September 2002

If I tell you that, right now, I’m sitting at Suzan’s computer, nestled into a comfortably cluttered computer room in a small house outside of Atlanta, Georgia, you know where I am. If I tell you that I’m in my pajamas, with my hair disheveled and eyes still heavily shadowed with dark circles, you know how I look. If I tell you that my throat is painfully raw, and that most of my muscles are aching, you know how I feel.

I woke up this morning with a feeling of…quiet panic. I opened my eyes when Tenzing jumped onto the bed, hinting in his oh-so-subtle way that “breakfast would be nice soon, Mom,” and thought, “agh! I have to get up, get started, do…”

What?

My brain, still numbed and sluggish from sleep, ran through the possibilities that, given recent events, were likely to be true.

The phone was ringing. It wasn’t.
Code work—I only have a few days before… Oh. Wait. I’ve already moved Quarto live. That rush is over.

The first set of photos from the madness that is working tech staff at dragon*con…

Ever notice how much we crave understanding from others? It is one of the guiding forces behind our interactions with other people. Failing the ability to allow another to truly see through our eyes, we resort to words. When we talk, we take the best option available to us: we fence with words to (gently or forcefully) turn our conversation partner so that they see the world from a perspective as closely matching our own as possible.

Words aren’t magic, though they sometimes might feel like it. For those of us unable to communicate through art or music, they’re our best hope of closing the gap betweeen others and ourselves.Sometimes they just can’t suffice.

That seems to be my theme for the year: words that just don’t manage to say it all, despite my best attempts to make it so.

Tsk. Can’t be having this, folks. Those silly referer logs; they tell me when you’re linking to my site. Next thing you know I’ll be thinking that the referers mean that someone’s actually reading this site, and if I thought that, then I’d feel infinitely more guilty about not posting many updates.

Oh, wait. I already feel guilty.So, yes. I’ll tell you a story, see, and you’ll all (all three of you!) feel better, having gotten your fix for the day.

Painful experiences supposedly get better with the passage of time. Everyone’s heard the adage that the pain of labor is forgotten shortly after the arrival of the child, and supposedly this sort of adage applies to lots more things than just labor.

I’ve got one word for you guys: liars. Tonight, while ostensibly digging for knitting and crochet patterns, I found a folder that I hadn’t opened in quite some time. The first sheet of paper contained a grid of some kind, and when I looked closer, I started laughing.

[original on flickr]

I’ve decided that the best way to handle such a deeply bizarre situation as this one is to treat it like the ludicrous thing it is; something so dumbfounding and jaw-dropping that, well, all you can do is just laugh, because there isn’t a rule in the rule book for this sort of special circumstance.

Everyone over the age of twelve likes to fancy themselves the keenest, most astute judge of human nature to walk this earth, myself included. Luckily enough, most of the time, the fact that you’re deluding yourself only sends you out on a couple of bad dates or leads you to bet on the wrong sports team in the Super Bowl.

Again, more from Jody. As always, short on exact quantities; modify, adjust, and generally tweak as needed.

Scallops Harmonic

Large sea scallops
Small bottle of sambuca
whole milk buffalo mozzarella cheese (this stuff is CRACK)
shallots
clarified butter
cracked black pepper
sea salt

Mince the shallots, and turn on your broiler. Season scallops to taste.