Ten Things About My Day, Many With Parenthetical Notes:

1. My knee pain somehow started affecting my hip at some point this afternoon, and now I'm walking like Torgo. (Raise your hand if you got that. Come on, we're all friends here.)
2. I've decided that, say what you will about Lowest of the Low (which for most of you is probably nothing), the five songs on their album that are actually good (I'm talking about the lyrics here, because the music is pretty generic) are terrifically applicable to the mid-to-late-twenties period of life. Too bad it's out of print.
3. We have very little snack food in our house, and this afternoon I resorted to making a hard-boiled egg for a snack. It was pretty good. (Adam already heard this once today, for which I apologize.)
4. I understand that today was Brett's last day at work, and so he may be back on IM soon. I'm unreasonably excited by this prospect. (So is Adam--see the note for #3.)
5. I got eight articles to edit with emergency speed today, totaling eighty-seven pages, so I've been busy. (If I could post excerpts here without risking losing my job, I would, because some of this stuff is pretty funny.)
6. The snowstorm does not, thus far, seem to be as bad as they were forecasting, although it was very slippery this afternoon. (And Pukey Pregnant Neighbor was walking back and forth on the sidewalk, which was still slick even though I'd just salted it, which concerned me. Now that I can obviously see where the baby is, I worry about it much more.)
7. Did I tell you all I got a huge work assignment last week? It's pretty cool--like two months' worth of work. (And I get to work with a new person at the company I usually work with, in a different division, which is very good for future employment prospects.)
8. Robbie sent me this article from Slate today about the Overstock.com woman. (You know, the one who says it's all about the O, and is sort of unsettling in a vague way.) I recommend it if, like us, you find those ads strangely hypnotizing.
9. I just nearly posted that link to the Slate article into my corrections for #5 instead of into this window, which I think would have amused the fine people at Elsevier Publishing to no end.
10. I decided to take a photo out our window every day in March. I will inflict it upon you on March 31.

Parts of me that hurt:

1. Knees.
2. Calves.
3. Glutes.
4. Triceps.
4. Jaw. Yes, jaw. From the clenching.

And I forgot to tell you all the most awesome thing about yesterday, so awesome as to nearly validate the whole terror-filled day: when I sat down outside at the end of the day and took my ski boots off, my feet were actually smoking. It was the coolest thing I've ever seen. And is there anything better, physical-relief-wise, than taking off ski boots? Women probably used to feel the same way about their corsets, I'm guessing.

Huh. Well, today was a good day. Not a good day in the sense that I had fun, because maybe 90% of the time I didn't, but good in the sense that I looked deep down into the dark, wussy cavern of my soul and pulled out something that enabled me to get down from the top of a mountain, even though I was tired and my knees were ready to break clean away from the rest of my body and terror had alighted on my chest like a giant squint-eyed vulture or overwrought metaphor presented by someone who overdid the apres-ski just a wee mite.

I think actually I would have been far more miserable today if I didn't have a blog, because I spent a fair portion of the day thinking of how I would explain to you all the things I learned about fear today. First, and this is the more important one, I realized that although when you're a little kid you think that when you get older you'll get over your fears, you learn as you do get older that you are just as afraid of the same things, and in exactly the same manner, as you were when you were maybe five years old. As far as I can tell, that never ever goes away. However, what you do find is that you have an increasing reserve of sticktoitiveness that allows you to work through the terror. Many of you know that I have been deeply, horribly phobic of diving since I was four or five (actually, the phobia has spread to jumping, now even off the edge of a pool, and believe me, I will not think you are the slightest bit adorable if you make it your mission in life to get me over this), and there were times today, hurtling down a mountain and crashing into the ground and flailing about like Gregor Samsa, when I felt the exact same paralyzing fear, but I kept getting up and going again, because, you know, that's what you do, you don't sit there and cry, you finish up. Which is sort of cool. (Although in fairness, I should disclose that what you do if you're me is get to the bottom, like a little man, and then have a moderate-sized panic attack and waily fit in which you say to your husband, while sobbing, "I can sort of almost see how someone could do this but you'll never ever be able to convince me why someone would want to.")

But second, I think that fear is what got me today. This was only my fourth day skiing, and they've been pretty evenly distributed over the past twelve years, so I really have to relearn at least some very basic skills every time. Robbie is a good skiier but took up snowboarding at the same time I started skiing, so we're pretty much at the same level now, and we did some beginner-bowl stuff at the beginning to warm up, and Robbie was falling left and right on his snowboard and I was schussing around with no problem at all. I was feeling good and, more importantly, I was looking great. Once we got on an actual (albeit beginner) slope, though, and I was going faster and there was much more down to see, even though I was turning fine (pretty well, actually) and decently in control, the fear of going fast got to me, and I fell everywhere, just to stop from moving. I'm not sure what one can do to get over this. It's really not a skill thing, it's just a fear of hurtling, even when the hurtling is really not so hurtlesome and more just, you know, skiing, like people do. I was like this when I started driving, but I could use the brake, and so I was able to get over it bit by bit in a reasonable manner. Here I don't know.

And now I'm going to take a hot bath, go to sleep, and then get up and schedule my double knee transplant. Good night!

Didn't get much sleep last night. Need to get sleep tonight, because we're going skiing first thing tomorrow. I'll update tomorrow night, though, if the skiing doesn't take too much out of me.

Oh, and thanks for the Amazon credit card tips. I think I'll go for it, the next time I have $30 worth of stuff to buy.

Right now on the news we're watching a story about a police chase gone horribly awry, massive accident requiring the jaws of life due to the police chase, ruptured gas line due to the massive accident, and mandatory evacuation due to the ruptured gas line, all in the neighborhood I said on Monday we were thinking about living in if we stay in Pittsburgh. Can you imagine the staring-out-the-window opportunities if we live there? Well, not if we're evacuated, obviously, but up until then.

Anyhow, I went to the gym with Robbie after he got back from work, and I have to say that I was a little disappointed with how it went. I went running on the treadmill, and although I knew I hadn't been in two weeks, I'd seen such a huge leap in progress last time that I was sort of expecting another one this time. Instead, I actually ran for less time than I did last time, although on the plus side, I was going faster. What really annoyed me, though, was that I stopped running because I had a stitch in my side, not because my legs hurt, and that makes me feel like kind of a wuss. Which is silly when you think about it--there's really no reason I should feel better about my legs giving out than my cardiovascularity, but I do. Ergh. Well, at least I did go faster than last time, at least for a little bit, which is something, so I'll just have to try again. I've set as my informal goal an epic kicking-of-the-trash of Adam in Rhode Island this summer, perhaps ending with a triumphant run into the ocean. (You know, like at the end of The Awakening. No, wait, that's not right. More like Rocky, only with an ocean.) Anyhow, I doubt it's likely to happen, but envisioning the cheering crowds, who will then feed me lobster and Del's, really makes the half an hour fly by.

Should I get an Amazon credit card? I've had the same credit card since 1995, when my credit limit was, I believe, $200, and as I think you all know I tend to mate for life, but I'm getting nothing now in terms of incentives and Amazon is offering me shiny things. I've been jealous of Heather and her constant stream of gifts from L.L. Bean, and I want something too. Thoughts?

Today was an annoying combination of dull and interesting in a way I probably can't discuss here. Such are the perils of using one's own name.

The least dull thing that I'm free to discuss was that while Robbie was at Boston Market getting himself a roast chicken for dinner (and me a sandwich), I decided to try doing step aerobics using our kitchen stepladder, which went OK. I can't really recommend it as a system, because it's very narrow and so I couldn't bust out the choreography that made me and Heather the toast of UCSB group fitness. Not even the V-step. And despite the fact that it's been probably three years since I've been to a step class, the urge to V-step came flooding back. (And that thing, what was it? The reverse U-step, or something? Man, I was good at that. Maybe I should buy a step.) But I also didn't fall off and crack my head open, which is always something.

Other than that, let's see... I finished one feature story due tomorrow and got close to finishing another one, and I did laundry, and that's pretty much it. And I played with my Sims. Two of them adopted a baby, who I was tired of after five minutes because of the incessant shrill crying. I'm trying not to think too much on that. Oh, and in other baby news, I think you'd all pretty much accepted it as true, but Pukey Neighbor is definitely pregnant. I saw her on the steps the other day and while she's not huge by any means, she's definitely showing. I didn't actually talk to her--she was fleeing into her apartment, I can only assume to protect her young, and so I only saw her from the neck down while I was starting up the stairs--so that's all I got, but I'll keep you all posted on any further details.

PS. Everyone should go read the latest Blogatron, because it's very, very good.

Ah, the weekend. A fine weekend it was. Saturday lunch we were going to go to a doner festival, but we decided to go out for sandwiches instead, and we got to check out a neighborhood that we might live in if we stay in Pittsburgh next year. In the afternoon I worked, and then we went to see Million Dollar Baby, wherein I learned that I am a shell of a person with an ice cube for a soul. It's a good movie, though, and I recommend it, even if I did remain stony-faced throughout. I'll offer the advice to any of you that haven't seen it, though, that the "twist" people keep talking about in reviews isn't so much a "twist" as a "plot," so don't do what I did and sit there thinking "She's his daughter! She's a man! She's bionic!", because she's not.

Then yesterday we went to the gym, where I had the privilege of working out across the aisle from the smelliest person I have ever encountered outside the subways of Paris, and I worked some more, and then my parents, who were on their way home from the symphony, took us out to dinner at a really, really good restaurant. I had lamb pasta, and it was the best thing I've ever eaten ever, even taking into account the excellent, dare I say amazing, roasted red potatoes that Robbie made for dinner on Saturday. Really, it was just an excellent weekend for eating all around.

I forgot that it was a three-day weekend for normal people until this morning, when I logged onto IM and found it to be a desolate wasteland, but as a result I was much more productive during the day today than normal. I worked on my feature stories that are due Wednesday, and I cleaned, and then tonight I made whole wheat rolls and worked some more. And now I think I'll work even more. I didn't go to bed until 2 last night, so I think it'll be another late night tonight.

And now, a brief but very fresh installment of Dreams I Have Had Lately.

Robbie was interviewing for a postdoc in LA, where Heather and Matt and Adam lived, and I tagged along. On the day of his interview everyone else went to work, so I decided to drive up to Goleta to see what was what these days. All along Cath Oaks and Calle Real there were these huge office-y apartment-y buildings, like in Arlington, which surprised me, and I saw some people I knew, like this guy Wes who used to work at my office, but I ignored them because I didn't really feel like chatting. I walked around for a while and then I was supposed to make a t-shirt for Adam for his birthday, so I went to the Mailboxes Etc. (sorry, "The UPS Store"), where they would do an iron-on transfer for me.

While I was waiting in line and thinking that later on I'd go get a Blenders, a family in a great big BMW came in and parked the car in line, inching it up as the line moved along. I was totally delighted by this, since it seemed like such a Californian thing to do, and I pulled out my phone to call everyone, but I couldn't get any reception. Meanwhile the manager came out to yell at them, and the guy driving the car started screaming that he was shipping four carpets and his wife certainly wasn't going to carry them and his son certainly wasn't going to carry them and he had every right to drive his car through the line. You can imagine how excited I was by this point. Also, I started thinking that before I went to Blenders, I'd go stalk the Mors a little bit, because I could park in a thirty-minute spot and pretend I was just getting a soda from the FSH laundry room.

Then I discovered that instead of an iron-on transfer and a t-shirt, I had an iron-on transfer and a pair of Adam's dress pants, so I was trying to call someone to get further directions about the gift when Adam showed up at The UPS Store. I asked if he worked up in Goleta and he said he did. I pointed out that the two-hour commute must be sort of taxing for someone who didn't drive, but he said he could always find someone to do his driving for him, although the ride was long and you had to stay in the left lane for what seemed like forever. Then I said that if he wanted to come with me to get a Blenders I could give him a ride back to LA. I considered trying to take him along to stalk Mors with me, but I figured there was no way I could pull that off without explaining why we were there, and that seemed like a bad idea. Then I woke up.

Discussion questions:
1. Which would be weirder to see in the Cath Oaks/Calle Real area, huge office-y apartment-y buildings or a car parked in line at The UPS Store?
2. If you could have a Blenders right now, what flavor would it be? Include supplements.

Behold my mother's award, a lovely pony with foot-long eyelashes, brought to you with the aid of AppleWorks. Note how the tail gives the illusion of motion. I hope to see this on the refrigerator the next time I go to my parents' house.

Today my teeth were given a clean bill of health, although I was instructed to buy an electric flosser for my perma-retainer (yeah, that's right, I'm twenty-seven and I have a perma-retainer), which I just might do. It doesn't look like they're that expensive.

And I wrote five hundred more words. It pales in comparison to yesterday, but still, it's a solid day. I have two feature stories due next Wednesday, though, one of which, inexplicably, I signed on for today, so I think I might be kinda busy for the next couple days. We'll see.

Due to a technical difficulty, my mother's prize won't be posted until tomorrow. It's ready, though, oh yes it is.

Today was a total waste until about two-thirty, because I was waiting for UPS to deliver my Old Navy package. You'd think that I could multitask around that, considering that we have a doorbell and all, but it was their third attempt and it made me edgy. So I waited by the window for hours, kind of halfheartedly checking my email and staring a lot. Oh, and I cut my thumb open slicing a bagel. It wasn't too exciting of a day.

But then I started working on this new idea I had while I was in DC, and I wrote--wait for it--three thousand words. That's right. That's ten pages, and some of it won't stay, but some of it is not bad. I'm pretty happy about that. We'll see how it goes, obviously, but I have some more ideas to carry me through at least the next few days, and it was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, at any rate. It did come at the expense of getting any paying work done, but that's what the late evening hours are for, I suppose.

And tomorrow I go to the dentist, I think. I never got my reminder call, but they're not the best dentists scheduling-wise, so I think they just forgot. Perhaps I will also do some laundry.

We're back! Wow, was this a long weekend. I'm not sure I can do it justice in one entry, but I'll try.

Let's see. We got in Friday right on schedule, and since the plan was to go out for Korean barbecue in Alexandria, we went straight to Heather and Matt's (after a stop at TJ's to pick up shrimp wraps and two cases of Two-Buck Chuck, which in Virginia is, less euphoniously, Three Twenty-Nine Chuck) and hung out for a little bit before heading over to the restaurant to meet Adam, Brett, Amy, and, uh, lots of other people. After dinner, which was lovely, we went into DC to a bar near Adam's apartment, where he played a Sting song for me on the jukebox and I tried not to be offended.

Saturday we got up and went to dim sum with Rebecca from downstairs, her fiance Rick, and their friend Adam. The food was outstanding and we got to watch a lion, or perhaps a dragon, dance for Chinese New Year's. Rick even gave me money to feed the lion or possibly dragon with, which was extremely nice. Then we went to a Safeway, where I freaked out because we couldn't find the capers and then underwent a total shift in mood when I discovered I could put in our old phone number from California, which we haven't had since 2001 but used to use at Vons because it was linked to our Vons card, and still get the full Safeway discount. Then we went back to Adam's and made a cheese ball and some olive tapenade, and then headed over to a surprise party for his friend Sarah, where I had lots of fun, and then to a bar in Dupont, where I learned that if you want to meet people, you need to sit blocking the cigarette machine. You heard it here first, single folk.

Sunday Heather and Matt and I went to church, and then we picked up Brett and Robbie, stuffed Amy into the trunk of the car, and headed out to brunch in the far reaches of DC, where we waited an hour for a table, gave several other tables who we thought were much closer to finishing their meals than they actually were extremely dirty looks, and then ate two plates of outstanding doughnuts and also enormous, delicious breakfasts. Then we hung out at Adam's for a while, digesting, and then we went to Robbie's aunt and uncle's house for dinner, where Robbie's mom had just arrived, and that was also extremely good.

Monday Robbie went to his interview and Adam went to work, and since Adam thought it might be tricky to get me in to see democracy in action, I ended up having the day to myself instead. I had lunch with Amy, Brett, Robbie's aunt Susie, and Robbie's mom, and I impressed myself and my terminally poor sense of direction by not getting lost walking there or back (never mind that I just had to stay on one major street for the entire way--at least I headed in the right direction). I'd thought about going to see some museums in the afternoon, but to my great surprise I actually felt like getting some writing done, so I figured I should take advantage of that, since I'd almost always prefer to hang out at museums on a given afternoon. Plus this gave me a chance not only to explore Adam's record collection, but to--and this is from a dead start, everyone--figure out how to start a record on his record player and actually make sound come out of the speakers, which I honestly thought I had as much chance of doing successfully as, say, installing a new engine in a car. I think it's possible that sometime during Sunday night my personality was switched with that of a completely different, and undeniably more skilled, person.

Then I took the metro out to have dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant in Alexandria with Heather and Matt (and Robbie, but he came later, since he was still at his interview and wasn't sure that he could have dinner until after I'd left). I felt so, so slick, with my successful metro riding, at rush hour no less, and I was dressed all in black, down to the black gloves Heather had given me as a belated Christmas gift on Friday night (well, except for some mud that my pants had picked up in Washington Circle on my way to lunch, which was brown), and I was moving efficiently and feeling incredibly hip, and then, after we'd crossed into Virginia and I was staring out the window in an ecstasy of bored urbane self-congratulation, Heather called my cell phone, where her ring is the Inspector Gadget theme. I couldn't help but feel that I'd lost a little bit of street cred there, especially since it was in the corner of my coat pocket and so it got all the way out of the first part that goes "Do-de-do-de-do, Inspector Gadget, do-de-do-de-do, do do" and into the sort of bridge section before I finally answered.

Anyhow. Dinner was very good, and then Robbie and I went back into DC and hung out at Robbie's mom's hotel's bar with her and Adam and, for a little while, Brett, and then Robbie and I went back to Adam's and watched "24" and then went to sleep. And today we came home. And that's that. Oh, and I would like to announce an informal contest. This afternoon, possibly because the weather was so nice, I was moved to buy three Beach Boys songs from iTunes. A yet-to-be-determined prize will be awarded to anyone who guesses correctly what they were.

I went running on the treadmill again today (I went for the first time last week after the whole fitness challenge discussion) and my goodness, it was easier the second time. I'd heard about this phenomenon, but I thought it was mythical, like the yeti. I have to admit, though, that I actually enjoyed myself, and it wasn't too painful, and I fully expect to be running marathons soon.

And tomorrow we're going to DC for Robbie's interview and my general causing of mayhem. It's kind of ridiculous, especially considering the dull torpor in which we conduct our lives here, how busy we'll be when we're there. This time we don't even have time to go to all-you-can-eat sushi buffet, so you know I'm serious. Apparently on Monday, though, while Robbie's having his interview, I'm going to get to go see democracy in action and at the same time embarrass Adam at work, which is just the sort of multitasking at which I excel. And then we will pass that evening, which you will note is Valentine's Day, with a random assortment (a Whitman's Sampler, if you will) of my in-laws, as is traditional in our culture.

So anyhow, tomorrow morning I'm going to make little heart-shaped cakes in preparation for the trip. I notice that as I slide into a certain amiable matronliness of spirit with age, which I suppose I should try to fight against but which I find I actually enjoy, the minor holidays take on greater importance, and so I've decided that it's absolutely necessary that I bring an assortment of Valentine's treats and gifts with me. Not Robbie's gift, though--I gave him his truffles (chocolate, not pig, and here I apologize to those of you who've already heard me make that joke) last night. He accepted them with the sort of stricken look that results when on the one hand, you sure do like truffles, but on the other, you were under the impression that there would be no gift exchange. We'll see how this pans out.

And, in closing, everyone in the new Kay Jewelers commercial needs to be severely beaten. First, just because they do, and second, because "how do you tell her she just might be the one"? Isn't that what you convey by reluctantly introducing her to your family at parents' weekend, but then getting drunk and hooking up with her best friend? Call me a traditionalist, but I think giving someone jewelry should make a statement less couched in the hypothetical.

Man, was anyone else completely riveted by the end of the Sports Illustrated Next Top Swimsuit Model Search? Actually, they kicked off the girl I liked last week, so I'd kind of lost interest, but even so, the finale was gripping. You could totally tell from the editing, frantically spinning the previously good girl as catty and vice versa, that America's voting hadn't gone the way they thought it would.

Anyhow. Today I worked and did laundry and puttered around. That's pretty much it. Oh, and I worked out with the stretchy bands. I'm becoming a huge fan of the stretchy bands. And I started taping "State of Play," which many of you will remember as the show Adam that recommended for us and we enjoyed greatly, so that we can lend it to Heather and Matt.

And in closing, I'd like to offer mad props to AJ, who beat my father on the SAT. As I understand the system, this means my father has to give him a car. Maybe I should go shopping for one of those giant bows soon.

The seven-layer dip has been finished. This was a monumental undertaking, but we got it done, and in only three days. I will be calling you all to help carry me out of the house on a guerney shortly.

Hmmm. Really, I have nothing to say about my day. I worked and cleaned and worked out, and I felt very efficient. Oh, I also started to inventory everything in our apartment, in preparation for our move. You know, the one six months from now, that we don't know where it's to. I suppose we all handle stress in our different ways, and the way I'm handling our, euhh, let's see, sixth move in seven years is to begin planning even earlier and more compulsively than I did last time, which the archive will show (Wow, have I really had a blog for that long? Or, possibly, am I really starting that early this time?) was pretty early and pretty compulsive. A few more of these moves and I'll be ready to manage the Normandy landing single-handedly.

And now it's time for another installment of Dreams I Have Had Lately.

1. Dr. J and Big T were having a second wedding ceremony in Germany. Dr. J asked me to be a bridesmaid and I was very flattered, but ultimately decided that I'd rather remain as keeper of the wedding spreadsheet.
2. I was about to tell Adam what the secret to women was. Then I woke up before I could. I can't remember what I was going to tell him.

And speaking of Adam, I neglected to mention yesterday that he was the one who told us to watch "State of Play." I figured you all would guess this, considering that the tiny scraps of current popular culture that we manage to gather together have always been graciously tossed to us by him, but he wanted me to point it out nonetheless.

First of all, everyone with On Demand should go watch "State of Play" on BBC America. I don't normally go for the drama/suspense-type shows--I used to like "24" okay but I'm sort of over it now--but this is very suspenseful and really good. It's not out on DVD in America yet, or I would buy it for all of you.

And now, on to the traditional weekend recap. We were weirdly social this weekend, but even I have to admit that it turned out all right. On Friday night I was seized with the sudden overwhelming desire to a) go out and b) go out to a bar, which we never ever do unless we're with other people. There's a bar at the end of our block, though, that we'd never been to before, so the two of us headed down there and had dinner (the food was actually quite good, which was a bit of a surprise) and hung out. It would have been more fun with more people there, but even so we had a good time. Then Saturday night we went out for Vietnamese food with our friends Isaac and Anna whose house we keep going to. I think I've never been to a restaurant with less ambiance, but the food was extremely good, and we had a very nice time. And then Sunday we went out to monthly dim sum with Rebecca from downstairs and her fiance, which was also fun, and then Robbie and I made seven-layer dip and watched the Superbowl. We cut the recipe in half, but we still have plenty, which is too bad because seven-layer dip, even though it keeps fine, isn't the sort of thing that makes for three or four good meals.

Today I went out to watch Dottie for the morning and then run some errands, and it went fine. Dottie was in a much better mood than the last time, which many of you will remember as the time she spat on me, and she seemed to remember who I was a good three-quarters of the time at least, so I'll deem it a success. I had to get up early, though, so when I got back this afternoon I fell asleep on the sofa rather than getting the work done that I'd planned to do, and had a weird dream in which I decided that I hoped we moved to Princeton next year because I could go do my work at the student center during the day. This isn't a desire that has ever seized me while awake, but in the dream this seemed like the most delightful way of passing the time imaginable. If we do end up there, I'll have to give it a shot.

Robbie and I were just reminiscing about the time we were going to do an intervention on Chris S. so he'd stop talking on the phone to Amelia and start watching ER with us, and we were trying to get Craig to come to the intervention but he was walking around the second floor of his apartment in his boxer shorts instead, and one of us yelled "Craig, put on some pants!" up the stairs, and he yelled back, really angry, "I do not listen to Muzak!" Which was the funniest thing we'd ever heard, because it wasn't anything like what we'd said, and anyhow, he kind of did. So we got to wondering when we'd ever have fun like we did in Santa Barbara again. So far the contenders are:

1) If we move to DC (you can guess who came up with that one).
2) If we find a cool old-age home.
3) Never, ever.

In other news, Adam and I may be having a fitness-off. As one might expect, we're having some trouble agreeing on terms--he wants to be measured on things like weight loss and brute strength, whereas I'd obviously rather be judged on flexibility and balletic grace. Oh, and cute fitness wear. I'd clean up there. I have an adorable workout shirt and matching monogrammed towel, after all, and he has a shirt that says "Drangle," so it wouldn't even be close. Seriously, though, does anyone know where to find some sort of good fitness assessment, hopefully online? One that doesn't involve the shuttle run?

And finally, I've been meaning to tell you all that the other day I generated enough static electricity that when I picked up my computer's power cord to plug it into the computer, the end lit up. I think we need a humidifier. I read the recent The Loft entry about dry air-related ailments, and I had the same ones, which can't be good. It's (comparatively) warmer this week, though, so maybe it can wait until next year.

No comments, no comments for so long. Maybe there are some bloggers who like to natter on and on for paragraphs with no response whatsoever, but that's not like me. I'm not narcissistic like that. Instead, as anyone who IMs with me on a regular basis (coughAdamcough) knows, I'm narcissistic like I like to natter on and on for paragraphs and then receive a monosyllabic reply, in response to which I natter on and on for more paragraphs. I thrive on very little feedback, is what I'm saying here, but I need a little, and you may ask youself why it should matter to you whether I thrive or not, to which I would reply that of course it shouldn't, except you keep coming back, I see you oh yes I do, and in only one case am I fairly certain that you just keep coming back because you are my sworn lifetime nemesis and are hanging around waiting to see if I screw something up. In that case, you get a pass, but the rest of you are presumably either interested in my life or incredibly bored, and because I am both interested in your lives and frequently incredibly bored myself, I beg of you, throw me a bone.

(It occurs to me that some of you might be neither my sworn lifetime nemesis nor interested in my life nor incredibly bored, but keep coming back to avoid the awkward conversation that ensues when you ask me how I'm doing and I say "Well, I don't know if you read this in my blog, but...". I will point out to you that Heather, of whom I am obviously quite fond, has, I think, given up reading my blog entirely, and that's perfectly swell. Not everyone is into the blog thing. But if you're reading, then be a pal and drop me a line. Not every single day. I mean, unless you want to. But just, you know, every now and again.)

In other news, I am faced with a situation, which for a variety of reasons I need to couch in the hypothetical. Let's say you knew a person, we'll call him Dull Person (DP), whom you knew only by association with another person, whom we'll refer to as Crazy Person (CP), such that in all the time you spent with DP, CP was there, and DP seemed awfully, well, dull, but then, CP did tend to have a distortional effect on the behavior of other people in the room with him or her. Let's also say that one of your major life goals to date has been flying under the radar of CP, and that you have accomplished this successfully for some time now. Now, let's say that you come into possession of some information about DP, whom you have not seen approximately since you successfully began flying under the radar of CP, that makes DP far less dull or possibly even interesting, and at the same time you are presented with a method of contacting DP. It is your strong belief that DP must, by now, understand that CP is crazy, but you have no means of proving this independently. When you think forward to the rest of your life you think that it might be nice to have some sort of correspondence with DP, especially if DP is not actually dull, and you strongly doubt that DP would narc you out to CP out of malice, but there is a small chance that DP does not yet understand the serious security breach that CP represents to you, so that if you emailed DP, DP might turn right around and forward your email to CP and then you'd have to change your name and leave the country. While you are not opposed to having CP know that you have continued to exist in the general sense, any sort of personal detail, especially pertaining to location, is completely off-limits. I have two questions:

1) Did anyone follow that?
2) Is it worth it?

Just a note to say that Robbie and I are playing the most fun game ever now, called "Watching The Chertoff Hearings On C-Span 3 And Looking For 1) Adam And 2) People Adam Has Introduced Us To In Bars." The score is contested at 1-0 right now, since Robbie thinks he sees someone from the second category and I don't, but still, it's a rollicking good time.

Today went as predicted. That's really all I have to say about it. For a while there was an unexplained beeping sound, but that ended up being the dial tone from my cell phone, which was in my coat pocket. It was kind of diverting to look for the unexplained beeping, but even so, there's not a whole lot I can say about it.

Oh, Robbie brought home sushi for dinner, made by his officemate's wife (she of the recent baby). I will admit to some skepticism about the potential quality of any sushi made by a non-Japanese person (except for that one guy who worked at the sushi place in Goleta, who was Caucasian as the day as long but did some outstanding things with fish. I often think of him when I consider the idea of people who love their work, since he was really unreasonably happy for a sushi chef, although that might have had something to do with the sake customers would buy for him). In the event, though, it was pretty tasty. I suppose most of Turkey is in Asia, after all, and maybe that helped. Apparently in Islam it's forbidden to eat any raw meat and shellfish is also out, so it was regular cooked fish, which generally speaking is a serious strike against the taste of any sushi, but this was quite good.

And now I would like to present a new occasional series that I just came up with because I needed something for my last paragraph, called "Dreams I Have Had Lately, And Not Necessarily Interesting Ones At That." The dreams I can recall of late are as follows:

1. My parents and my mother's relations began to litigate over some leftover braunschweiger, which I was putting into Tupperware at the time.
2. Riding in a car with the Hillside Strangler.
3. Robbie and I were moving to Keuka Lake, where I went on vacation as a kid, because he had accepted a postdoc in bioinformatics here, which, before you snark too much, I will point out is my mother's alma mater. We were renting one of the lakeside vacation apartments that my parents and I used to stay in and I was afraid it wasn't insulated well enough for the winter. Heather and Matt and Dr. J and Big T came to visit, and I was extremely excited at the prospect of taking Dr. J to the Mennonite bulk foods store. I said to her, "They have all this jello in exotic flavors. They have black raspberry jello. I know you don't eat jello, but still, it's really something." (As an aside, this dream is clearly stupid. In real life I would have been much more excited to take Heather to the Mennonite bulk foods store, since she's the one obsessed with the Amish.)