July 2003

I will have more coherent thoughts on this subject later, but I wanted to share this photo with the world sooner, rather than later. This is a real billboard. It is currently in place near the junction of I-565 and Memorial Parkway. Kat and Sean spotted it first, and told us about it last night. I'd planned to wait a few days to photograph it, but when Jeff and I went for lunch today, we saw a camera crew from a local TV station taking footage of the sign. I wouldn't be surprised if the billboard doesn't stay up too long after the news stations start talking about it, so I decided to come home, grab my camera, and take a few shots of it while it was still up. I have the original photos. If you feel the need to make this billboard your computer wallpaper, drop me a line and I'll make it available to you.

Be vewwy vewwy qwiet. I’m hunting endorphins.

Hour eight of headache. Die, headache, die. Lovely evening consisting mostly of staring at computer, trying very hard to move nothing more than my fingers and my eyes. A still head is a head that hurts less.The battle was lost in hour five, when thirty minutes after taking the first aspirin + acetaminophen + caffeine combo, I was whispering to friends, “When can I take another? I think the first one skipped town before doing anything useful…”

Total spams received in absence: 163.

Two hours into the drive home. Silence. After so few hours in the car, have we managed to say everything there is to say?

Three dragon*con staff meetings down, none to go. Last night, everyone marveled that dragon*con was already upon us, a sentiment made even more absurd by the frequent follow-up: "It's been so long since I've seen you!"

The battle lines at 'con are always so simple at the third and penultimate meeting. Us against them. 'They' are the attendees, other staffers, and guests - anyone who doesn't know who we are, what we do, or manages to keep us from doing what needs doing at that particular moment.

Pesto Orzo with Pine Nuts

1 package Orzo (1 lb usually)

2 packages Knorr Pesto Sauce mix (green package, they finally have it at Target, YES!)

1 package pine nuts (approx. size on this, Misty?)

2-3 broiled chicken breasts, cut up (optional)

Much freshly ground black pepper

A white cheese (Romano, mozzarella, etc.) of your choice to taste

On the final ten minutes of the drive, I explained to the mp3 player that its ‘random’ choice highly amused me. Sure, of the hundred-plus songs it had at its disposal, its only option was to play ‘Time Stand Still’ as I crossed into terra familiara.

Perhaps, as said to Colter, I did get up on the bitchy side of the bed this morning. Blame it a misbehaving Gallery install - no. I’m not playing that game. I blame the inane conversation provided to me by the person who can’t even find the time for a two-second check of the profile of the person he’s pestering.

Friends? No, I think not, sir; in my world, friends have something in common aside from the ability to spell the word “hello.” I realize my standards are just impossibly high, but I like my men to have a touch of the conversationalist; merely substituting ‘u’ for ‘you’ just isn’t enough to catch my eye.

So, mr_xotic_danzr, that makes you our loser of the day.

"So few people come here and really make themselves at home. You went out there and slept like a baby."

I'll say.

Don't hate me because I'm here. I've been here for most of the afternoon. Most of it asleep.

What was a petulant moment of "I'm paying for the comfort, so I'm going to get my money's worth" became "Ooooooh. Hammock."I came out here, right around noon, to the little hammock tucked in the corner of the screened-in porch. I'd never gotten in a hammock before. After one aborted try, I managed to wiggle into a workable position, and then began to understand the appeal.

My book lies on the bed, vanquished. It was finished only with the literary assistance of two very large, purring cats who could find nowhere else in the house to sleep but next to me. (A house full of cat-friendly napping places, and Tenzing couldn’t find anywhere to sleep except draped over my right arm.)

I am now on the wrong side of one-thirty in the morning, waiting for a cup of rosehip tea to finish steeping, and pondering yet again the question that’s been foremost in my mind: stay, or go?