powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

Get your own diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

Recent News...

Just for Pope Gregory...

Finding the nativity

An accelerated rate

To tell the secrets of my prison-house

House and a shelf

2002-10-30 - 8:29 a.m.

Pad Thai and Pod Buddy Puppet Theatre

It rained yesterday. It rained because I had a hair appointment. Can�t I have good hair for just ten minutes? Sigh. Kris Ann�s handiwork was gone in fifteen minutes of drizzly humidity.

I could end the drought just by getting styled more often.


Here�s thing to hate about Maryland. They don�t use reflective paint on the roads. Dark, drizzly nights, oncoming headlight, and the lines on the road are invisible because they are too *cheap* to spring for paint that reflects. Bastards. I miss Virginia.

Somewhere, there�s statistics on how many lives are lost because you can�t see what your doing in bad weather.


A fake commercial, heard last Sunday on NPR�s �A Prairie Home Companion�.

�[librarian voice] �Some patrons could be so nasty about overdue fees. And, trying to shush the kids these days with their hip-hop attitudes, is almost impossible. But now that I have my Smith and Wesson tucked under the counter, I feel ever so much better. [announcer voice] Yes, Smith and Wesson endorsed by librarians everywhere.�

... anyway, it went something like that and I rolled on the floor laughing and thinking of Honeypot.


And while we�re talking about things that make me chuckle, let me give it up for the best quote I�ve heard in weeks: Obvious evil is so trite - it's better to prolong the agony through courtesy.
I�m still chuckling.

Nope, it wasn�t Angel of Death. I�ll leave you to guess. Wonder if the Order of the Rose needs a motto?


Work is blissfully busy. God as my witness, I love design work. I�ve learned about electronics layout, propellant chemistry, modeling liquid fuel motion (my master�s topic), planning a ground network, proofing a propulsion system, lithium-nitrogen batteries, layered software design and why a snowcone is not an unreasonable shape for the bottom of a spacecraft.

We won�t talk about the down sides of work, because there always are.


Last Thursday was a glorious day.

It was Kevin�s birthday, which led to a wonderous orgy of Thai food before cheap (but good) cider. Never had Pad Thai before, but, oh, I like it. And curse AoD for introducing me to those sweet fried crispy noodles� A merry little group of eight toasted Kevin�s birthday.

Extra ebullience was added to the occasion because they also caught the sniper bastard.

I�ll admit, I was delaying errands after dark, sitting in my vehicle while fueling the car, and looking over my shoulder. Six of the shootings were close to my neighborhood. I am deeply relieved that no more lives will be lost.

Thank you to law enforcement who cracked the cases. Thanks to the press who advertised the tip line and other information that helped catch the snipers. I also think of Jason when these things happen and worry about his job taking him into bad places.

I am also thrilled that I won�t have my mother crying into my voicemail every other day. I love you. I just wanted to hear your voice. Damned disconcerting in the middle of your workday.


So says Kymber I�m done work early. Any suggestions for Friday afternoon?
Container store. Container store.
I chant.

Off we go, probably the only two people anal enough to revel in an afternoon spent buying boxes to put stuff in. Roland came along because he�s good-natured and we�re cute.

Cute organizer stuff. Stacking containers. Magazine holders. Nifty measuring things. A Kymber blue drawer cabinet. And a present for Cuan for the Pennsic kitchen.

After nobly bearing with, Roland persuaded us to head at Timpano�s for a ridiculously late lunch or early dinner. As usual, the food was delicious. As usual, the bar didn�t have the Scotch I tried to order. This is a running gag with me � whatever I pick from the Scotch list, they�ll be out of. I should just start sending the waiter with a prime and backup choice.

But seriously was bar in the DC area runs out of Oban? Oban? One of the six most common single malts in the world? United Distillers classic bottling? WTF?

The bookstore lured us across the parking lot to Barnes and Noble.

Here�s the hideously cool new thing we learned about their music department. They�ve put in a system where you pick up any CD, scan the bar code, and listen to samples. Any CD. Any one of them. Not just the �featured ten� that are on the recording stand. Kymber listened to the variations of Moulin Rouge.

I made her listen to part of the �Buffy the Musical: Once more with Feeling� Soundtrack. It�s an opera song about a parking ticket? Okay, we�ve established Kymber did not see that episode � but the look on her face was really fun for me.

I left with a huge stack of books and lost a good chunk of the subsequent weekend to Pullman�s �His Dark Materials� trilogy and the soft green blanket that will enter the story shortly.

We decided to go home, we meant to go home, but the ice cream store near Kymber�s car lured up in. Strolling along with our cones led us to Appalachian Spring, one of my favorite craft galleries.

Christmas gift possibilities were considered and discarded. Shiny items admired. In the back, I find a soft handwoven blanket, soft and warm, soft and beautiful, which matches the new kitchen curtains and throw pillows made. (Hey, Gen, it matches the pillows I made.) It is green. It is soft. Mine, mine, mine.

My new obsession (I�m so sorry Padraiga) left Kymber dangerously unrestrained. Now let�s recap. Kymber has now had caffeinated coffee because the waiter mixed up her order and then we let her get ice cream.

There was a bowl of finger puppets by the register. A big bowl. With many types of finger puppets. Like sheep. And little kings and queens. And pigs and giraffes and tigers, and other things suitable for association with our friends. I�m so not responsible.

We sit at the tables outside the store, while Kymber blindly draws out finger puppets and makes up stories. I pick up the phone and call Padraiga, hoping she�ll talk us back from the edge.

Padraiga probably though we were tipsy as I described the Pod Buddy Puppet Theatre display before handing the phone to Kymber. But she was patient, gracious and mostly amused, and no matter *what* Kymber said it�s not my fault.

I need one of those phones that sends pictures.

Wait, my life is pretty weird. Maybe I really *don�t* need pictorial evidence.


What else did I do this weekend? I learned that even the innocent rubber duckie song can be salicious in the right paws.

Scribble to Theo

previous - next

about me - read my profile! read other DiaryLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!