Jan. 20th, 2003
The bare bones of the snow globe saga...
Jan. 20th, 2003 01:29 amI have an ex-fiance. We moved out of state and in with one of his friends. When calling his mother to reassure her that we'd arrived and were not eaten by angry reptiles or cacti, he saw a snow globe sitting on top of the microwave: bright plastic base, a rounded rectangular prism filled with water, flakes at the bottom, sunken pirate ship. So of course he picked it up and shook it.
Water and flakes splatted all over. New Roommate #1 began berating him for the malicious assault on his sea monkeys, and ran off to get the sea-monkey sucker to pick up the sea monkeys and put them back in their little aquarium.
My ex-fiance tried to get the goop off the phone, and succeeded in hanging up not only on his mother, but on the computer line, causing New Roommate #2 to emerge from his lair and begin berating my ex for the hijinks with the phone.
Naturally, my ex got a cheap snow globe and some sea monkeys for the following Christmas.
Water and flakes splatted all over. New Roommate #1 began berating him for the malicious assault on his sea monkeys, and ran off to get the sea-monkey sucker to pick up the sea monkeys and put them back in their little aquarium.
My ex-fiance tried to get the goop off the phone, and succeeded in hanging up not only on his mother, but on the computer line, causing New Roommate #2 to emerge from his lair and begin berating my ex for the hijinks with the phone.
Naturally, my ex got a cheap snow globe and some sea monkeys for the following Christmas.
Wear and tear
Jan. 20th, 2003 12:49 pmMy favorite old flannel nightgown, the Black Watch pattern plaid one, broke last night. There was a huge tear in one of the sleeves, and I shredded the bottom of the sleeve off.
Since it's so old and cozy, I'll keep wearing it, one sleeve long and one sleeve short, until the whole thing disintegrates.
It's sad, to lose old favorite bits of clothing, though.
Since it's so old and cozy, I'll keep wearing it, one sleeve long and one sleeve short, until the whole thing disintegrates.
It's sad, to lose old favorite bits of clothing, though.
Once upon a time, when we had our first batch of birdies, there were two who were the special pets: Calico and Aurora. They spent a lot of time in the house.
FatherSir had been teaching the hens a cute trick: jumping for green beans.
As with most animal tricks, you start out slowly. The hens needed very little introduction to the concept that these things were yummy, and they would eat them right up, either off the floor or out of your hand. The next step was holding the green bean at beak height. You would then raise the green bean, so the happy hen would have to stretch her neck a bit to get the thing.
After she got used to stretching up for a treat, you'd hold the green bean a little higher. She'd jump, of course.
FatherSir kept raising the level of the green bean until Calico was jumping for green beans at waist height: flying, really. It was an impressive trick, and it was fun to see a comfortable hen rocket herself into the air over a green bean. (Calico was always the more voracious one; Aurora would go after treats if it didn't muss her dignity too much.)
One evening, when everyone was at home and relaxing, and Calico and Aurora were inside, FatherSir decided it was snack time. He went to the kitchen, and put butter and honey on a scone. He started walking back to the couch, with the scone at arm's length.
My father does not have short arms. The scone dangled only a few inches above his knee. Calico spotted the slowly moving target: Oh! A treat for me? and rushed right over. She leaped, and snagged the unguarded scone from his fingers, and dragged her prize under the table.
Aurora, seeing the size of the scone, said "Pik-pik!" sharply to Calico, and rapped Calico on the head with her beak, then took the scone and began eating it, messily.
FatherSir figured that Calico had gotten the scone fair and square, and that since he'd been the one teaching her that trick, it was mostly his fault, and his fault for not putting the thing on a plate and carrying it out of harm's reach.
FatherSir had been teaching the hens a cute trick: jumping for green beans.
As with most animal tricks, you start out slowly. The hens needed very little introduction to the concept that these things were yummy, and they would eat them right up, either off the floor or out of your hand. The next step was holding the green bean at beak height. You would then raise the green bean, so the happy hen would have to stretch her neck a bit to get the thing.
After she got used to stretching up for a treat, you'd hold the green bean a little higher. She'd jump, of course.
FatherSir kept raising the level of the green bean until Calico was jumping for green beans at waist height: flying, really. It was an impressive trick, and it was fun to see a comfortable hen rocket herself into the air over a green bean. (Calico was always the more voracious one; Aurora would go after treats if it didn't muss her dignity too much.)
One evening, when everyone was at home and relaxing, and Calico and Aurora were inside, FatherSir decided it was snack time. He went to the kitchen, and put butter and honey on a scone. He started walking back to the couch, with the scone at arm's length.
My father does not have short arms. The scone dangled only a few inches above his knee. Calico spotted the slowly moving target: Oh! A treat for me? and rushed right over. She leaped, and snagged the unguarded scone from his fingers, and dragged her prize under the table.
Aurora, seeing the size of the scone, said "Pik-pik!" sharply to Calico, and rapped Calico on the head with her beak, then took the scone and began eating it, messily.
FatherSir figured that Calico had gotten the scone fair and square, and that since he'd been the one teaching her that trick, it was mostly his fault, and his fault for not putting the thing on a plate and carrying it out of harm's reach.
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marxdarx playing Baldur's Gate
Networking, networking
Jan. 20th, 2003 02:58 pmRealized that since Hawking and Old Reliable need not be close enough to each other to touch in order to talk, that I could move Old Reliable closer to Chronos, and thereby gain advantage for swapping out Chronos' long cable for the tender, pliable, handmade cable that was one of the bits of booty that come with take-it-apart-and-put-it-back-together class (the fact that the hands that made it were mine, from materials I paid for, is irrelevant to the fact that it's booty), so that Neo may use the long cable.
Now, we see what kinds of network protocols are juicy and delicious.
Now, we see what kinds of network protocols are juicy and delicious.
Standardized testing
Jan. 20th, 2003 04:07 pmWhen Narcissa and I were little fayoumi, they had the Iowa Test of Basic Skills, or ITBS tests, every year. Every year, of course, we would ace them, coming back in the highest percentiles. I remember being disappointed that there was nothing higher than 99.
When Narcissa was in the 4th grade or so, she did a speech for the speech contest on the ITBS tests, thinking up all the different things that ITBS could stand for, and using them liberally throughout her speech. "It's Totally Boring Stuff"; "I Taste Breaded Spinach".
We called it TCBY testing, to ourselves, actually. That was the only other thing that we were familiar with that was a severe local bunch of letters that didn't make much sense unless you knew what they stood for. One of us called it TCBY testing to ourselves, and thought it was silly, and then, I'm pretty sure that what happened was that FatherSir heard it and thought it was a good idea: go test the things that TCBY had! The extra inconvenience in school (plus the annoyance of not learning anything and taking the pointless tests) meant that Mama and FatherSir would try and be extra nice at home, and that was a good way to do it.
It never did occur to me that some kids found ITBS week hard. Why would they? I didn't. I was only an average student (the GT class didn't mean much to me other than I got to go to the GT room and play fun games and do other stuff, and would miss important stuff in class like fractions); surely I wasn't that much smarter than everyone else.
When Narcissa was in the 4th grade or so, she did a speech for the speech contest on the ITBS tests, thinking up all the different things that ITBS could stand for, and using them liberally throughout her speech. "It's Totally Boring Stuff"; "I Taste Breaded Spinach".
We called it TCBY testing, to ourselves, actually. That was the only other thing that we were familiar with that was a severe local bunch of letters that didn't make much sense unless you knew what they stood for. One of us called it TCBY testing to ourselves, and thought it was silly, and then, I'm pretty sure that what happened was that FatherSir heard it and thought it was a good idea: go test the things that TCBY had! The extra inconvenience in school (plus the annoyance of not learning anything and taking the pointless tests) meant that Mama and FatherSir would try and be extra nice at home, and that was a good way to do it.
It never did occur to me that some kids found ITBS week hard. Why would they? I didn't. I was only an average student (the GT class didn't mean much to me other than I got to go to the GT room and play fun games and do other stuff, and would miss important stuff in class like fractions); surely I wasn't that much smarter than everyone else.
Duuuude: permanent accounts for sale!
Jan. 20th, 2003 04:33 pmThey got a new admin for LJ, and things should be happy and cool and smooth and stuff. Celebration: permanent accounts on sale. $100 a pop, but (IMNSHO) worth it. I've got one already, go me, from the last sale...
Whoo.
Am happy for them.
Whoo.
Am happy for them.
For some reason, that's one of my networking songs. I sing to myself as I work on computers. I've got Neo plugged in and firing up; hopefully, this should be instructive for all of us.
I am thinking that as long as I am using TCP/IP, that Neo should be able to be getting on the net juuuust fine.
We shall see.
I am thinking that as long as I am using TCP/IP, that Neo should be able to be getting on the net juuuust fine.
We shall see.
Bogglenesses
Jan. 20th, 2003 06:27 pmThere's a guy who was in my baby sister Narcissa's class growing up. At one point or two back in... 1998? 1999? ...I made out with him every now and then. I call him Evil Mick, and he's the best lover I've never slept with.
Not only is he married as of this past September, but he and his wife are trying to have a baby.
Shawn's married with a little daughter. Evil Mick's married, and they're trying to have a baby. These people are younger than I am.
Not only is he married as of this past September, but he and his wife are trying to have a baby.
Shawn's married with a little daughter. Evil Mick's married, and they're trying to have a baby. These people are younger than I am.
Dancing shoes
Jan. 20th, 2003 08:37 pm![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
calligrafiti is dancing. I learned how to dance in Drama class, back in 1995/6, when I could get away with wearing The Pink Skirt and that godsawful black & gold sweater to class. Shawn was my dance partner, and if only he'd held me a little more firmly, we could have been excellent on that stage together...
Dancing really is a team sport. If you can't fake chemistry together, there's something lacking.
The best dance I ever had actually wasn't a dance. Darkside and I were in the courtyard at school, sparring (again). For some reason, our up-close fights turn into wrestling and rounds of Mercy. We ended up in a classic dance position, with my hand on his shoulder delivering a nerve pinch, other hand twined around his tightly, stepping, pivoting, and sliding together across the tiles in perfect time with each other.
At the end of the dance I told him that I should like to dance with him for real at some point, since he did it so well. He looked at me blankly and denied all accusations of being able to dance. He'd never, evidently, been taught, or tried... I'd like to see what he could do when taught. I'd like to see what *I* could do, when taught...
Stuff. And stuff.
Note to selves: In the future, when gaining new friends with interesting home situations, have them quickly introduced to the household in general, and the usual procedures gone through, so that if things explode in bad ways, there will be a plan in action.
Evidently things are holding for now...
Note to selves: In the future, when gaining new friends with interesting home situations, have them quickly introduced to the household in general, and the usual procedures gone through, so that if things explode in bad ways, there will be a plan in action.
Evidently things are holding for now...
There was a piece that we did in Drama. It was from a play. I can never remember which plays things are from, except for The White Rose... but I digress.
There was this young woman, almost still a girl, and she was in New York. I think she was. She had gotten a bad case of agoraphobia, and was taping a letter to her dad.
One of the older girls, one of the better ones, got that snippet, and played that girl. I think it was one of the Jessicas. And it was an intense scene, and Mrs. Merritt did that exercise where you get in character, and sit in two chairs, and talk.
The character was suicidal. Jessica discovered that in her interpretation, and wound up crying. "Would you do it?" the instructor asked, and the girl bowed her head, and whispered, "Yes", and then broke down sobbing.
Mrs. Merritt hugged her, and we Circled, and Mrs. Merritt told us that if we couldn't come completely out of character and recover from any given emotional state in five minutes, then we were far too far in character and had to tone it down.
There was this young woman, almost still a girl, and she was in New York. I think she was. She had gotten a bad case of agoraphobia, and was taping a letter to her dad.
One of the older girls, one of the better ones, got that snippet, and played that girl. I think it was one of the Jessicas. And it was an intense scene, and Mrs. Merritt did that exercise where you get in character, and sit in two chairs, and talk.
The character was suicidal. Jessica discovered that in her interpretation, and wound up crying. "Would you do it?" the instructor asked, and the girl bowed her head, and whispered, "Yes", and then broke down sobbing.
Mrs. Merritt hugged her, and we Circled, and Mrs. Merritt told us that if we couldn't come completely out of character and recover from any given emotional state in five minutes, then we were far too far in character and had to tone it down.
