It sounds like it’s been an exceptionally good Samhain for all my pagany friends. I’m very happy for all of you 🙂
My Halloween was spent, like every night lately, banging away on the keyboard at work. Which is not a request for pity – I never celebrated the holiday growing up, and Stacey had to remind me when it was. It looks like the kids made some good hauls, though; and my Strongsad jack-‘o-lantern looked quite nice glowing mopily at the end of the driveway.
I have a cat on my butt.
What does it mean when you feel fine during the day, but every night you’re wracked with dry coughs?
You don’t appreciate strong typing until it’s gone. Aging UNIX hackers and the their adoring fanboys who think C is some sort of paragon of elegance and simplicity should be slapped with a data book until nicely tenderized. Sure, it’s easy to conform to a standard when half of it consists of suggestions…
Drawn Together is funny as hell.
I got shadowandlight the Zombie Survival Guide for his birthday. He left it here after he finished it, and I’ve been flipping through it every now and then. What a bizarre book. Not because of it’s subject matter. On the face of it, it seems like a clever idea. A survival guide for the inevitable zombie uprising. Ha ha! How droll. But then you open it up, and start reading. And you realize it’s written exactly like the sort of army manual it vaguely resembles. Someone actually spent months writing a careful, detailed, pedantic, and almost completely humorless manual for defeating the undead, including an elaborate invented history of zombie attacks which makes no reference at all to the zombie canon. It reads like directions for fixing your car. Very strange.
Does anyone else work somewhere that has someone who is paid to wander around looking for safety violations? Please tell me I’m not alone in this.
I’m not going to the beach this coming weekend. This makes me sad.
Is it me, or is this one of the prettier autumns in memory? I hate that I’m inside so much of the time. The trees and the weather have been mind-bogglingly gorgeous.
We spent Sunday at my grandmother’s house. It was probably the last time I’ll ever get to see her there. She’s moving to Massachusetts to be close to my aunt. I’ve been visiting her at the house she and my grandfather built for as long as I can remember. It was the house the extended family always gathered at for Christmas and other holidays. I learned how to use a jigsaw in that house, under my grandfather’s patient tutelage. I wandered the trails in summer and careened down the hills in winter. I took lessons in math, science, music, and English from my grandmother at the kitchen table and at the old electric organ. I played Atari 2600 in the basement. I climbed the cherry and dogwood trees. I played croquet on the back lawn. I fed the fish and counted the frogs in the fish pond. I sat at the table while grandad told his stories, of which he had an unlimited supply. I played monopoly and Mille Borne and Uno and Formula 1 with my aunts and uncles and cousins.
Yesterday I sat on the balcony with my dad on a perfect fall evening, looking out over the woods that, if you walk far enough, borders on Liberty Lake, and knew that it was the last time.