Lumbar Support Boy doesn't know it, but he was lucky to make it to Phoenix. It took two and a half hours of him attempting to pummel his feet into my lower back before I rose over the back of my seat to growl at him, but I think his mother got the point rather quickly.Take your child's feet from out of my back or I will make a scene. Oh, and have a lovely trip, wherever you're going, eh? Don't make me ritually sacrifice your kid at cruising altitude or you'll find out just how deadly knitting needles are when they're wielded with malice aforethought.

I took the purple-handled scissors and snipped off the 'HSV' tag left on the bag from Jeff's last flight. In the world of baggage, his trumps mine; back, many years ago when my parents gave me a set of inexpensive luggage as a gift, I'm not sure they ever envisioned me flying, much less taking these bags with me.But the bags survived four years of college, more road trips than I can count, and moved with me to Alabama. I learned just how frustrating it was to cart unwheeled baggage through Atlanta's Hartsfield airport.

After a bit of a hiatus, one of our semi-completed household projects has been brought to full completion. Last weekend, I asked Jeff to cut the remaining pieces of wood so that we could finish up our new CD rack, since our current plethora of CDs outgrew our old storage facility at least six months ago.Once he'd attached a back and a stabilizing base, all it needed was a coat of paint and we were good to go. I applied the paint yesterday afternoon and brought in the finished rack after dark. I set it up in the reading room and thought, "Oh dear.

Somewhere between the second episode of The Muppet Show and my fourth orange-flavored drink, courtesy of Brian, I began to realize that this Thanksgiving holiday thing might have some merit, after all. Given another couple of episodes and another fizzy drink or two, I might even start singing the praises of this holiday.

Scratch that. Thanksgiving == good. A pity Thomas and Danielle fled before the evening got really amusing.

Three hours and fifteen minutes into Thanksgiving, I'm playing a nearly-inaudible set of songs over Winamp, cursing my nocturnal habits, and wondering just when the heck I'm ever going to grow up enough to have holidays at my own house.

Southern families have rules. Nobody bothers writing them down, because why waste paper writing down the obvious? These things are all on the same level of obviousness:

Gareth: Heh. You will use the holiday skin and like it.

Amy: Can I quote you on that when I post the entry about all this?

For those of you who used your best StrongBad "Holy crap!" voice when you showed up here, relax. 'cat.net hasn't been taken over by aliens yet. There will be no alien takeover until December; until then we're free to make merry and taunt the cats.