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I got confirmation about the internet problems. With a judicious use of
I woke up groggy, and things did not really improve much over the morning. My brain was out of tune, what with the lack of internet, and I may not have eaten a proper breakfast. Moving hurt. Thinking about moving hurt. The closer we got to time to leave and go do things, the more I was aware that all was not right in the department of my brain. I could barely focus, and needed to do things very strictly one thing at a time, very strictly monofocus. I was also somewhat cranky from lack of sleep. That is really a bad combination. ( Despite all this and more, we made it to dinner. ) It seems that "It's Complicated" has attained an enviable status, as the linguistic semi-equivalent of "Um ... friends!" of the new generation of internet children. (It differs in that "um-friends" are often acknowledged relationships that one can explain without recourse to a whiteboard and a whole playbook full of characters, but just that this status should not really be conveyed to the present audience (or can be shared with the *present* present audience, but not your mom. (Not mine. Yours.) "It's Complicated" implies that while you might be happy to explain the scenario to present company, it would require a Long Story (or two), and perhaps the sort of diagrams that have to include yarn in various color-codes to model the full dynamics of the whole situation.)
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sithjawa. My trusty GPS delivered us to the correct hotel housing Consonance '09 (not without commentary at the GPS), and I spied willskyfall and sithjawa in the parking lot. Introductions were made all around, involving usernames.
We had not actually decided on a specific venue for supper, but JD had done some Googling and had found that there were many possibilities in the area. He put forth the idea of "drive until we find something that looks good";sithjawa and willskyfall suggested that the closest four-star-reviewed thing they'd heard of in the area was right across the way.
My dietary requirements were merely that they have something available without any shrimp, bananas, and walnuts. This seemed entirely like it could happen. (I am thinking that the banana problem may have upgraded itself to an allergy, if one sip of smoothie containing bananas will make every part of my mouth that touches it start to sting even after it is hastily spat out.) So we were off!willskyfall had shotgun on account of leg length, and sithjawa was in the back with the giggling boys. (In the parking lot headed in, they declared that no, actually, it was not possible for them to let go of each other at this point in time.)
Hot Pot City was great fun. We did not have the spicy hot pot. I can take certain amounts of spice; Steph is not a spice person.
Upon learning that it was our first time, the fellow who seated us demonstrated what we were to do. There was a burner in the center of the table, which had an arrangement of a foil-covered platter and a pot in the center of it. He poured water in the pot and spread butter on the foiled tray. At his direction, we headed to the buffet to choose our ingredients, then put vegetables in the pot and spread meats on the tray.
We were a little unnerved at first, that all the vegetables were going in together, but that passed quickly in the debate about whether this was too many cooks for the soup, and then the resulting discussion of how many cooks are too many, anyway, and the concept of a successful multi-cook gestalt. There were mushrooms, assorted greens, bean sprouts, more mushrooms, a tomato, some zucchini, and goodness knows what else. The meats were delicious. I had picked a skewer with chicken gizzards, andsithjawa and the Boy had some (after I explained to Steph what part of the chicken it was). There were ribs. There was some sausage. There were potstickers. There was crab in the soup, and there was IRC-related giggling on the Support side of the table. It's very good to be Out with fellow internet people. Things got alarmingly meta when "Live Your Life" came on as background music, as that samples O-Zone. Oh, internet. (Also, your mom.) Steph needs to write a filk of "500 Miles" involving a sex change rather further away than one would like to be driving. There was more general silliness than can be easily remembered.
( Read more... )
ipconfig /all, I noted the wireless appliance's IP address, popped that into my browser, and met the appliance's status/login page. The status helpfully gives the air quality and SSID of the connected network; it was one bar, connected to PacificaNet4. Moving the appliance around did not help much. Ugh. 1 bar. That about fit my mood, too. I woke up groggy, and things did not really improve much over the morning. My brain was out of tune, what with the lack of internet, and I may not have eaten a proper breakfast. Moving hurt. Thinking about moving hurt. The closer we got to time to leave and go do things, the more I was aware that all was not right in the department of my brain. I could barely focus, and needed to do things very strictly one thing at a time, very strictly monofocus. I was also somewhat cranky from lack of sleep. That is really a bad combination. ( Despite all this and more, we made it to dinner. ) It seems that "It's Complicated" has attained an enviable status, as the linguistic semi-equivalent of "Um ... friends!" of the new generation of internet children. (It differs in that "um-friends" are often acknowledged relationships that one can explain without recourse to a whiteboard and a whole playbook full of characters, but just that this status should not really be conveyed to the present audience (or can be shared with the *present* present audience, but not your mom. (Not mine. Yours.) "It's Complicated" implies that while you might be happy to explain the scenario to present company, it would require a Long Story (or two), and perhaps the sort of diagrams that have to include yarn in various color-codes to model the full dynamics of the whole situation.)
sithjawa. My trusty GPS delivered us to the correct hotel housing Consonance '09 (not without commentary at the GPS), and I spied willskyfall and sithjawa in the parking lot. Introductions were made all around, involving usernames. We had not actually decided on a specific venue for supper, but JD had done some Googling and had found that there were many possibilities in the area. He put forth the idea of "drive until we find something that looks good";
sithjawa and willskyfall suggested that the closest four-star-reviewed thing they'd heard of in the area was right across the way. My dietary requirements were merely that they have something available without any shrimp, bananas, and walnuts. This seemed entirely like it could happen. (I am thinking that the banana problem may have upgraded itself to an allergy, if one sip of smoothie containing bananas will make every part of my mouth that touches it start to sting even after it is hastily spat out.) So we were off!
willskyfall had shotgun on account of leg length, and sithjawa was in the back with the giggling boys. (In the parking lot headed in, they declared that no, actually, it was not possible for them to let go of each other at this point in time.) Hot Pot City was great fun. We did not have the spicy hot pot. I can take certain amounts of spice; Steph is not a spice person.
Upon learning that it was our first time, the fellow who seated us demonstrated what we were to do. There was a burner in the center of the table, which had an arrangement of a foil-covered platter and a pot in the center of it. He poured water in the pot and spread butter on the foiled tray. At his direction, we headed to the buffet to choose our ingredients, then put vegetables in the pot and spread meats on the tray.
We were a little unnerved at first, that all the vegetables were going in together, but that passed quickly in the debate about whether this was too many cooks for the soup, and then the resulting discussion of how many cooks are too many, anyway, and the concept of a successful multi-cook gestalt. There were mushrooms, assorted greens, bean sprouts, more mushrooms, a tomato, some zucchini, and goodness knows what else. The meats were delicious. I had picked a skewer with chicken gizzards, and
sithjawa and the Boy had some (after I explained to Steph what part of the chicken it was). There were ribs. There was some sausage. There were potstickers. There was crab in the soup, and there was IRC-related giggling on the Support side of the table. It's very good to be Out with fellow internet people. Things got alarmingly meta when "Live Your Life" came on as background music, as that samples O-Zone. Oh, internet. (Also, your mom.) Steph needs to write a filk of "500 Miles" involving a sex change rather further away than one would like to be driving. There was more general silliness than can be easily remembered. ( Read more... )
