From Tuesday's Hafla

Photograph by Michael Trace

I think this look works for me, and I may focus future costuming energies on emulating Ruth St. Denis...

A String of Disasters Increasing in Scale?

On April 15, 1865, Abraham Lincoln was assassinated.

On April 15, 1912, the Titanic sank, taking with it 1500 people.

On April 15, every year, all of us Americans have to make sure our tax returns have been filed.

On April 15, 1976, I was born.


The world is doomed, I tell you! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED!

Best hot chocolate ever

Whole milk (preferably non-homogenized), heated

Chocolate flakes (or chips), unsweetened or semi-sweet

Cardamom, ground

Robot Armies, coming out of the notebook, and exploding heads

This looks like it could be potentially fun.

Harper Collins has a new genre fiction branch called Angry Robot Books. They're slated to officially open in the UK this summer, and then in the US in the fall.

Interestingly enough, I was reminded on the AR webiste that HC also has this other site called Authonomy, where budding authors can post things for peer review. (The peers, in this case, being fellow budding authors.) I am pretty sure that I originally heard the mention of this page from one of my friends' blogs, but to be honest, I can't remember whose it was, but this second appearance of it into my field of attention made me decide to actually go and check it out.

I think I might set up an account. I have, after all, been trying to work up the courage to take my writing out of the dozens of composition notebooks lying around my apartment and put them somewhere where other people can actually see them and give me feedback.



But none of that will happen if this weather system doesn't finally push through and my head explodes. Gah!!!!

Auntie Em?

There's been a low-pressure system stalking us for the past several days.

It gets close... and then backs off.

Or, it skirts us entirely.


Meanwhile, it's windy as all get-out (and my roof sounds like it's about to take off), my head feels as if it is about to explode, and my bad knee is making walking rather unpleasant.

Bus FAIL (Part XXXVII)

I was out at the bus stop, this morning, with plenty of time before either the regular 6 or the 6 Limited (which starts its route at my stop) were to come by.

There must have been something going on at the Business School, as there was a slightly larger crowd of suited students than usual for non-summer months (when the bus only runs once an hour).

When the Limited pulled up (empty), people filed on and filled it to capacity. The driver refused any more passengers, leaving about a dozen of us standing out in the 10-degree weather.

We twelve stood there, watching the bus pull away. A couple of the left-behind business students looked as if they were standing on the deck of the Titanic, watching the last lifeboat leave.

We waited for the regular 6, which ought to have arrived within two minutes.

We waited... and waited... and waited.

After about ten minutes, I finally called Bloomington Transit and asked where the bus was. I was told that one of the busses was "having problems" and would be around as soon as they could send one.

So, we waited until the next Limited came by, on its regular schedule.

All in all, I stood out there for half an hour, and by the time I got into my office, I was shaking so violently it took two tries to unlock the door.

Laundry

A necessary evil, yes, but I do fancy fresh underpants, every morning, so it must be done.

Tapioca

I love tapioca.

I love it in pudding, I love it in bubble tea. I love the small pearls, I love the large pearls.

My mother always had an aversion to it. She claimed it was because my grandmother would force her to eat it, even though it looked and felt like fish eyes.

That story prompted me, one time when my father was cleaning some walleye, to ask him for the eyeball. He obliged, and I proudly ran to show my mom.


I'm making some tapioca pudding, right now. I'm using the instant (small pearl) style, because I had a craving and I just couldn't wait to soak the large pearls.

Not quite an experiment, yet

I'm always pretty bad about taking down my Christmas tree, but since it's fake and it doesn't take up any space that I would otherwise need, anyway, I just can't be bothered.

Well, here we are, halfway through February, and it's still there, cheerfully glowing from its perch on the side table I use to display houseplants.

I haven't made a conscious decision to see how long I can keep it up - as I know that I will, in fact, get sick of looking at it, eventually - but I just can't help but look at it as a comforting constant in my bleary little life. I know that, no matter how crappy my day is, no matter how cranky I may feel, I can come home and plug in my tree, and it will beam softly illuminated cheer into the room.

Also, there are only three ornaments with actual Christmas themes. The rest are generic "winter" decorations or Star Trek and Star Wars ships and figures.

I think it's got at least another week and a half in it.

It's not cool unless it comes with superpowers

I am starting to develop a silver forelock.

Support me in Race for the Cure!

I'm going it solo, this year, having failed at rounding up an actual team for the past couple of years.

However, I've decided to get rather ambitious with my fundraising efforts, and have once again pledged that if I make my goal ($1000), I will do the whole 5K in full kendo armor.

Please visit my race page! (:

This was taken during the 2006 Race

UPS FAIL

Avon sent my order via UPS, instead of using the regular delivery service.

I found a sticky note on my door telling me it was in the office. I went to the office to retrieve it, and the girl who brought it out had a weird expression, and said, "It came like this..."

One corner was totally covered in rubber, indicating that it had apparently been... run over? Used as traction to get the truck out of a slippery parking spot?

There was also a hole:



Needless to say, some of the product was missing...

Blue Boxes

From the content of this blog, recently, one would think that all I have done is obsess over a scarf dreamed up in the fog of illness.

The good news is, I haven't.

I have made some progress, though:



It turns out, all I needed to do was to incorporate knitting/purling through the back loops to get the recessed boxes.