PS

Since I'm updating much more frequently these days, I've changed the settings to display three days' worth of posts at a time. Please feel free to check the archives if you need more. :) And I've played with the colours a little to make things more readable. If you really hate it/like it/whatever, let me know. I'll try not to re-engineer anything for awhile, anyway. So with that, it's good night. (And I went a whole night without playing Bookworm!) Time to curl up with my doggie and get some sleep.

A little housekeeping...

I've added the Code Amber alert back to this page, so that brings everything back that I had before the latest template migration. Who knows, it might help someone out there. They also have alerts that can be delivered to e-mail or via screensaver. Thankfully Amber alerts don't happen all the time, so sometimes you'll just see the placeholder here.

One of the best thing about these alerts is that if you check out the past alerts most of the children were recovered, etc. I don't know if that's generally what happens or if issuing the alerts is making a big difference, but it's good to see the success stories. The only thing about such early public information seems to me that the crime victims are usually already in the headlines, and if they are later determined to be the victim of a sexual crime, the general tendency of the media to protect the victim's privacy goes out the window. Such is the case for the latest case of the girl in California who was forcibly taken from her home. On the one hand, the Amber alert and the knowledge that a neighbour's surveillance camera caught a good deal of the perp's movements probably led to her release and the arrest of a suspece. On the other hand, knowing the motive was a sexual assault brings up a whole lot of ethical issues that I for one don't quite know how to resolve. I'm glad the girl is now safe, though, and I guess that's what really matters. I don't understand the motive of anyone who would do this to a 9-year-old, nor do I understand why he didn't just abduct her but confronted the family, etc. But I'm sure the parents and kids of the area are glad the suspect is in custody. Scary world. It's times like these you have to remind yourself that the vast majority of people out there are good, or at least indifferent, right?

Hmpf. Not surprising, hmm?

Something to do whilst waiting for the new book to come out. T-11 days and counting!


You excel at Herbology. Looks like you naturally
have a green thumb...or wait that's probably
from the Venomous Tentacula, you better head
over to Madam Pomfrey.


Which Class at Hogwarts Would You Excel at?
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Ah

Well, I came on home and promptly went to bed. I had originally planned to sleep a couple of hours, but woke up a little after 11pm. Sound familiar? But boy, I needed that. My neck feels a little better, although I think the stiffness has moved down now. Hopefully by tomorrow it'll be better.

I turned on Jay Leno for all of about five seconds. He started his monologue with an incredibly-poor-taste-decidedly-unfunny comment that does not bear repeating but let's just say indicated that the champion horse Funny Cide was on his way to become pet food. Jay and his writers obviously have no appreciation for horses. That comment was just sick and wrong on so many levels I'm not going to waste any molre time on it. Fortunately the audience didn't respond to it well. I turned it off after that. I've always preferred Jay Leno to David Letterman (David Letterman just always seemed rather creepy and juvenile in one fell swoop). I think I'm giving up late-night TV in general until something a little more entertaining comes along. Like, I don't know, documentaries on slug reproduction?

Do I dare play Bookworm? No, I think I need to take a break. Since I didn't do laundry tonight, I should get up early tomorrow. (I am not going to go over this late to an unsupervised laundry in a basement). Although if all else fails I have two more dresses I can wear this week. :) I think I'll do some stuff online and then head back to bed in an hour or so.

Brain hurts. Make it stop. Shutting down.

I was wrong. It wasn't nearly 300,000 when I stopped. It was just over a million. Now it's very nearly two. I played the game for an additional two hours last night and just apparently got faster at making my words. Of course, I can't type worth anything because dog and god and gdo and ogd all mean the same thing in my head when I type. Yesterday I was typing to some more dictation and literally just had to take my glasses off so I couldn't _see_ what I was typing at the time--I had fewer errors that way. Thank goodness for that touch typing class in high school. In retrospect it's the one class I've used the most in my life. :)

I will not go home today and sit at the computer. My neck hurts and I generally feel like crap today, partly because I spent something like six hours at the computer all total yesterday (and ate a bunch of tortilla chips, which was probably more salt in one day than I get in several). I may nap. I may do yoga. I may take a nice, warm bath, but I will not get on the computer and play Bookworm at least until later in the evening. Really. Besides--I really, really need to do laundry. I'm dressed up today, which has gotten me several compliments, but really it's because I have nothing else to wear.

I'm not sure which is more sad--having your brain sucked in by a silly word game or explaining it to others. But at least I spent my weekend out, about, and visiting with other human beings, right? And I got to finally get a long-lost character back into the Cthulhu game and had a new character make a cameo, so that was great, right? So I'm not a total dork, right? Right?

*The giant dorkazoid hangs her head and goes back to work and listening to her Buffy CD*

Egad.

I have just spent the last three hours playing a game by PopCap called Bookworm. I downloaded a trial from Yahoo!Games. Being my mother's daughter, I'm easily ensnared by addictive games. I had played a few times, did okay, maybe up to 50,000 if I was lucky. Then I played this particular session. This game has just gone on and on (and I'm not finished yet...I just got so mind-numbingly tired I had to save so that I can hope to get some sleep). My score was nearly 300,000--basically the most I've ever gotten on any game. The premiss is very simple--you have a square full of random letters you must link to make go away. More letters drop from the top. Special coloured tiles give you bonus points. Fiery tiles must be used before they reach the bottom or they'll 'burn up your library'. Bonuses are awarded if you can spell a specific requested word. Every level gives you a new title. I think I was 'Super Dictionarian' when last I looked. I've been playing games like this for about 30 minutes a day as a way to give my brain a decent workout--since I'm not actively taking classes, and my job does not generally require quick problem solving or other involved thought, it's a good way to exercise 'the little grey cells'. But who knew a simple little game would drag me in so much? So far I've used such words as 'souse', 'wen', and yes, even 'egad'.

Yesterday was beautiful and sunny during the day, and it was glorious. Even those of us cooped up at work managed to enjoy it a little. And it was jeans day, which we get once a month and I really just about live for. It's not like I wear hose and three-piece suits the rest of the time, but I just work better in jeans. A dance troupe made up of men from various First Nations came and demonstrated a variety of dances. I particularly enjoyed the Eagle and Buffalo Grass dances and one which involved five hoops and juggling up to all five at once making different animal shapes. I know it sounds corny, but the drumbeat called to me. They weren't just doing empty dances--they were doing the ritual that went with it, and you could feel the power. I don't know if it was the teensy-weensy Blackfoot/Cherokee in me repsonding or just an appreciation for wonderful dance, but it made me want to experience more. There was one dance where they got women from the audience to get up and dance with them (I hid admirably like any good chickenshit--I'm still a little dizzy from when I was sick and I'm barely co-ordinated at best). It was a sort of two-step/reel/spiral dance, all in one. I was struck by the similarity I've seen in some Pagan circles. Don't know if it was co-opted by neo-Pagans or if certain dances just have similarities, though.

Speaking of co-opting, one of my co-workers who is also very liberal started going into a tizzy when she saw the men walking down the hall in their feathers and beading. She apparently thought that they were a bunch of middle-aged white guys playing Indian--which I would usually admire because lord knows enough of their culture has been stolen by others who pretend the First Nations no longer exist. But she kind of jumped the gun in her not-quite-righteous indignation. I had to explain to her that it was a group pretty well-known in the hospital system, from one of the clubs from Oklahoma, and yes, they were real Indians. I was sort of surprised she couldn't tell. When I went to watch she was like, 'ooh, you were right'. Hello, yes. (Shakes head). I could understand if the guys looked like one of my former acquaintances who is always talking about the 'Good Red Road' and the 'Sacred Hoop' even though he's blonde, blue-eyed, and pretty much looks European (He is actually part Navajo and maybe Cherokee, I think, but most people would assume he was just playing at being Indian, and even we sometimes had to wonder. Of course, he also believes in intelligent viruses, spontaneous parallel evolution, and non-electric radios, so anything he did was taken with a grain of salt). Have I ever mentioned the sheer numbers of loons I've encountered, especially being a Pagan in Lexington? But back to the dance troupe. Most were pretty much as Indian-looking as I look British. Several, I suspect, were veterans. One guy had beaded on a shirt 'Butch'. It was great. It's like people don't think they have any lives and just sit on reservations posing for tourists. (Shakes heads again). Anyway, having doused water on the fiery temper of my co-worker, I really enjoyed their performance, and another woman and I went up to them later and thanked them for coming. I'm not sure anyone else did.

Oh, and here's something else I've come across this week. If you ever by chance encounter someone who thinks carnivorous plants, at least those that could be grown in the gardening zones of the US, would be too dangerous to plant in a garden because they might eat passerbys, please reassure him or her that he or she is perfectly safe so long as he or she is bigger than, say, a fly. What can I say, some people just don't grasp basic science--and watched way too many episodes of 'The Addams Family' as a child.

Last night I mostly played on the computer. Today I watched Animatrix. It waswonderful animation, and several of the segments helped explain some things behind The Matrix: Reloaded (how Zion got its intelligence concerning the imminent attack, how the annoying kid was saved from the Matrix, how the Matrix began...good stuff). A variety of styles were used, and there were some great martial arts moves. I have to remember them for the game. :)

This evening I went to a Lexington Legends game. There was free food (most of which I couldn't eat, being vegetarian), not free food (I had a funnel cake and warm cashews--hmmm...yummy), and fireworks. The team spent most of the game without a single score but then rallied towards the end to close behind the other team 9-7. We were in transit during the running of the Belmont (they had shown it on the big screen at the ballpark) but I was disappointed to hear Funny Cide did not make the Triple Crown. Sounds like it was a great run, though. So, this is probably the most you'll ever see me talk about sports in one post. Enjoy.

Okay, that's enough for now. Have fun storming the castle. I'm going to bed. ;)

Here's some irony for you:

Eric Rudolph, the man accused of bombing the Atlanta Olympics, abortion clinics, and a lesbian nightclub and celebrated by white supremecists, is being defended by a Jewish lawyer. He's certainly entitled to a good defence, of course. What really bothers me in the Rudolph case is that there are people out there painting him as some sort of folk hero. Okay, there's a long history of this sort of thing--look at Jesse James and his gang, for example, or practically any folk song about brigands. They were outlaws and arguably bad men but many people aspired to be like them--I think because there's a deep-set tendency for many of us to want to 'thumb our noses' at authority. But there is nothing admirable about terrorism. It's a cowardly act to plant a bomb and kill innocents just because you have some warped agenda. And if guility, Eric Rudolph is a terrorist, plain and simple, albeit a domestic one akin to Timothy McVeigh. I suspect that the same people with those 'run Eric run' bumper stickers have the 'these colours don't run', lots of American flags, and memorials to the victims of 9/11 on their vehicles, too. Do these people actually think?

Can you tell I'm making up for all that time asleep while sick?

You're Hobbes. First of all, the makers of this
quiz would like to congratulate you. You have
our seal of approval. You are kind,
intelligent, loving, and good-humoredly
practical. You're proud of who you are. At the
same time, you're tolerant of those who lack
your clearsightedness. You're always playful,
but never annoying. For these traits, you are
well-loved, and with good cause.


Which famous feline are you?
brought to you by Quizilla



...and...





You are... Shrek - "Well I have to save my ass!"
You walk tough and talk tough, but inside you're just a gooey ball of mush. Your friends are
important to you (whether you admit it or not) and you'd do just about anything for them (but you wouldn't like it). Trust is important to you, and so is respet. Looks don't matter to you; it's the gooey ball of mush inside that really counts.


What movie quote are YOU?
brought to you by Quizilla

Okey, dokey, love you, bye-BYE!

Things that make you go hmmm....

Usually other people come up to me with bizarre questions. Recently I had one of my own. I was watching a woman walking in sandals. She was very dark-skinned but her feet were very light. I wondered why this was and made some enquiries. One answer I got was that people are naturally lighter wherever there is no hair--you see it in apes, too. Well, yes, but I wasn't satisfied, so I asked Jeeves. Apparently thick skin has neither melanin nor hair follicules. Want to know more about skin? Try http://www.technion.ac.il/~mdcourse/274203/lect12.html. Nifty. Now I won't be staring at other people's feet quite so hard.

Now if I can just stop checking out African hair. At the risk of sounding like a racist pervert, yes, I have an odd fascination that I can remember having even back in childhood; I was jealous of the girls with their twists and the bands with lots of multicoloured shapes. When my friend Tracy was around I'd pester her for all sorts of secret (well secret from most Caucasians) tricks to making Black hair do various things. Having baby fine hair that won't even stay in a barrette, I've always thought that cornrows, weaves--or for that matter just having hair that would stay put and not 'fly-away'--would be really great. I can comb or brush my hair and five minutes later it looks like I've been riding a roller coaster, even without the wind. But, I had no idea how much trouble goes into to those hairdoes. Maybe I should just learn to appreciate my rather plain hair that I can comb and go without any goop, special conditioners, etc. When I'm on the bus and see a really neat hairstyle, I really want to ask how they did it, but I'm not sure if that's a cultural faux pas. Sigh. Oh well, not that I could duplicate it at all. There is one style that no kid should be made to endure, and you pretty much only find it on little African-American girls. It's the two-balls on top-of-the-head-oh-gee-I-must-be-Minnie-Mouse look. I'm sure someone thinks it's cute, but I think it borders on abuse. The equivalent with Caucasian kids is the one little wisp of hair in a barrette that sticks straight up. Don't do this to your children; you'll only humiliate them by showing them pictures of these to their boyfriends later in life.

Digging Down Under stuff

Lavender honey is quite nummy and makes a wonderful part of a libation. I'm going to have to seek out more. Zabet did that shop you bought the honey from in New Zealand have a web address by any chance? Also, the face masque works well, but I have to admit, maybe it's the OCD but all I could think of was, 'is this stuff from that place Z and P went to with the amoeba that melts your brain, and if so, could I possibly catch it in the bathtub if I put my head in the water'. Hehehe. Silly, right? So...um...was that amoeba thing in Rotorua? And if so, do you think they, like, sterilise the clay? Meanwhile, I have played with the amazing water-sucking rock the amazement of several. Well, I guess only one person was properly impressed. I must figure out what type of stone it is...Oh, gee, what I really need to do is get a life, don't I??? Maybe I should have gone over to Zabet's tonight, but I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't give them my cold, and that doesn't seem very nice to do to people who feed you, let you do laundry for free, and play Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit, or Senat with you, does it?