Brain Freeze

I am tired.  I know I owe replies and computer fixes and the like to some of you, but I'm just not up to it right now.

Meanwhile, go read the blog Rachel (of Signing Time) wrote about her family's recent vacation.

The point -- for me -- isn't so much "aww, what a wonderful mom!" (though Rachel is, and the post proves what she'll do for her girls) or even "good Lord, that can't possibly be little baby Lucy I remember from when I worked as an aide," (which is roughly the same reaction I had to an earlier post about Leah's birthday, since it made me realize that the kindergarten-aged kids I worked with when I was an aide are all in, or about to be in, middle school now), but "why call something a glass-bottomed boat if it's an unaccessible submarine" and "why can't the submarine be accessible?"

Back when the new Nemo subs opened at Disneyland, I wondered roughly the same thing -- why couldn't they have a cherry-picker type platform lift?

It also makes me remember the field trip we took to the little zoo thing they have at the community college whose name now escapes me.  They were advertised as fully accessible, but within fifteen minutes, I was carrying the front of one boy's manual wheelchair while his mom carried the back, and several of the strongest male aides we had were trying to get another boy's power chair out of loose gravel.

I do mean to talk about this more, but see above (or below) re: exhausted.

Yawn

Without getting into gross details, I have figured out why I've been so tired the last couple of weeks, and I feel like smacking my head and yelling "duh!" at myself.

For the last two or three months, I've had an unusual numbers of the insane, horrible, oh-my-God-I-want-to-die stomach aches** that accompanied my brush with mononucleosis as a kid.

** I hate doctors.  Hate them hate them hate them.  And yet, when I would get those stomach aches, the only thing that kept me from insisting someone take me to the hospital (if for no other reason than to be sedated) was the thought of sitting in a car (or, God forbid, laying down) because the pain got worse when I sat.

(Googling today has revealed that that's not as uncommon as I thought; apparently, it's quite likely my spleen was swollen.  Yikes.  It can also, apparently, affect liver function, which explains why the doctors at Amie's mom's office way back when first thought I had hepatitis.)

I got those four or five times a week in the months leading up to getting really, horribly sick with mono, and ever since then, I get one or two a year.

Anyhow, there is a gross, TMI way (visual only; it's not THAT gross) I used for years to gauge the likelihood of a Stomach Ache of Doom in my future, but I've been sloppy lately.

Well, today, when I pried myself out of bed (after a several-hour nap yesterday and going to bed relatively early), I employed my TMI way of determining the state of my recurrent virus.

Whoops.

Call it Chronic Fatigue, call it relapsing mono, or call it Epstein Barr: the quick answer is -- utter exhaustion.  No wonder I've had such trouble keeping up with stuff this week.

By the way...I am one of apparently only 6 percent of people that get recurrent symptoms from mono, and one of very few people who get the nifty Alice in Wonderland side effect as well.

Maybe someone else should do the driving for a while?

Belated Pictures

Because I am diabolical that way, Amie's comment that Patrick looks so grown up reminded me that I wasn't keeping the blog up when Patrick took Chaline to the prom.

So, to go along with the "so grown up" theme, here are a couple of pictures of the happy couple.

Well, What Do You Know?

Huh.

There actually was an Iolaus, according to Greek mythology, and he did help Hercules with his labors.

He was just Hercules's nephew, instead of his buddy.

Grrrrr

Okay, I know Disney is Disney, but for crying out loud, people -- why aren't there coloring pages that aren't the Disney Hercules?

Part of the kids' journals each day looks like this:

One week I did an ocean theme, one week a sports theme, one week a Fourth of July theme...and this week, I'm trying to do a mythology theme to go with the stories we've been reading.  I did okay yesterday finding a picture of Zeus, but...geesh.

(By the way, I'm slowing increasing the size of the box for the period, to fade the prompt that it comes last.  So far, everyone can identify it.  :-) )

Well...back to google.

Things I Learned When Watching 10,000 B.C.

1.  The Emmerich brothers have a thing for ancient Egypt.

2.  The Emmerich brothers have a thing for the year 10,000 B.C.  (Unless it's been way too long since I watched Stargate, I believe that's when Ra first showed up there.)

3.  The Emmerich brothers have a thing for the "it tastes like chicken" gag.

4.  The Emmerich brothers have a thing for revolts.

5.  The "wise blind man" motif is alive and well, unfortunately.  This time, complete with weird, creepy voice.

6.  There is no number 6.

7. At some point, the Emmerich brothers will probably do a movie about Atlantis, given that they referenced Stargate in one breath and Atlanteans in the next (loosely quoted, "Some say they from the sky.  Others say they flew across the ocean after their land sank to the bottom of the sea.").

8.  The Emmerich brothers think ancient Egyptians all wore long gold fake fingernails (what the heck?).

9.  If there was an Independence Day reference, I missed it.

10.  Stargate was awesome.  Independence Day was very, very good (except for the whole president's wife = Laura Roslin thing...).  This one was...meh.

Commercial Pointlessness

Okay, I realize the big digital TV transition is a big deal.

However -- what on Earth is the point of advertising on local cable?  If you have cable you don't have to worry about the digital TV thing in the first place...even the commercial says this.

Also?  The commercial that says the digital TV transition was mandated because -- note that conjuntion...because -- the picture is so much better.

Felgercarb.

The government wanted to auction off the over-the-air wireless spectrum for lots of money.

End of story.

How Patrick Eats Bread

The Rest of the Pictures

Go here to see the whole gallery from yesterday, which includes the pictures below.

A good rule of thumb is that if the file name is prefaced with IMG, it's from the point and shoot and therefore taken by Patrick (except the pictures of...well...Patrick).  If it's prefaced with CRW, it's one that I took.

Incidentally, one nice side effect of having to be in full manual mode to shoot in bulb mode is that, while waiting for the fire works, I finally figured out at a gut level the interaction between exposure length and ISO speed.  (I haven't quite managed to work the aperture part of the equation in, because I couldn't find an easy way to adjust that and experiment too, but, hey, it's progress.)

It's funny -- I always say that I learned to use a computer by playing and experimenting...I should have remembered that about the camera.  I just had to get in and mess around with stuff.

I had read all about photography, but that doesn't compare to real life experience -- it doesn't make you get that the whole goal is to have the ISO low enough to have no noise while also (if you're hand-holding your camera) keeping the exposure time low enough that you won't see evidence of camera shake.

Nifty.

M Day

That is, Mark VII Monorail Day.

A full four years after Monorail Orange was removed from the resort in order to reverse engineer it (which has never made sense to me; Disney Imagineering -- notably, with the still-living and therefore still-consultable Bob Gurr -- designed the things to begin with), seven months after Monorail Red arrived at Disneyland, and five months later than expected, Patrick got to ride Monorail Red (which is still in soft opening status).

Unfortunately, the camera wasn't ready when he turned around and blew a kiss to it as it entered Tomorrowland over Submarine Lagoon.

The rest of the night was taken up with keeping Patrick hydrated and sugared (something is still wacky with his electrolytes, which his doctor doesn't believe, but that's a post for another day) and taking pictures with my remote shutter release.  It is nifty, but I have already decided that I need to dig out one of my dad's tripods next time -- a fanny pack on a camera case on a trash can does not a tripod make.

Link to the gallery coming soon.

Repeat Rant, but I Can't Help Myself

(Pardon the CAPSLOCK OF RAGE.)

Ahem.

IT IS NOT "COULD OF."


COULD'VE IS A CONTRACTION OF COULD HAVE.  AS IN, "I COULD HAVE GONE TO THE STORE BEFORE WORK IF I HADN'T SLEPT TOO LATE."


IT IS NOT "COULD OF."


IT IS NOT "SHOULD OF."


IT IS NOT "WOULD OF."


HAVE HAVE HAVE HAVE HAVE HAVE HAVE.


IT IS COULD HAVE (OR COULD'VE), WOULD HAVE (OR WOULD'VE), AND SHOULD HAVE (OR SHOULD'VE).


*headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*

*relieved sigh*

Holy Block of Text, Batman!

Argh.

I'll try to fix it later.  One attempt to do so already didn't work.

C'mon, blogger....

Bulldozer Hannah

It is a cliche in Stargate SG-1 fanfiction (or, at least, I assume that it must be, given that the twenty or so stories I've read over the last ten years all seem to include it) for Sam to, at some point, exclaim, "Holy Hannah!"

Whether that ever happened in the show, or it's one of those things that started in fandom and became "fanon" (fan-invented canon...I know, I know) or whether I just missed the origin of it, I don't know.

Well, today warranted a Holy Hannah, but not the way you're thinking.

Bulldozer was...think Energizer Bunny on fast forward today.  He literally could not sit still -- this wasn't a willful I-don't-want-to-do-it thing, it was a literally, genuinely, I just can't do it kind of thing.

Unfortunately, hyper mornings like that often become...difficult...afternoons, and today was no exception -- but that comes later.

Anyway, Bulldozer often comes to school with...stuff...in his backpack.  For the last two days, it has been a pair of headphones.

Today, as Bulldozer was prancing, hopping, skipping, jumping, and in all other ways whirring through the classroom at the speed of helicopter wings, he stopped and grabbed his headphones and planted them on his head.

He started singing.  He pointed to a pair of 3-D glasses he had also brought (very useful for the kid with one eye, she says sarcastically) from the Hannah Montana movie.

(Translated:  "Hey!  Look!  I'm Hannah Montana!")

And then, he proceeded to dance about the room, singing, playing air guitar, and -- at random intervals -- deeply bowing.It was...cute and funny and reminds me all over again of why I adore Bulldozer (95% of the time).

But the kicker came about an hour later.

Bulldozer has finally settled down enough to finish his morning journal (with frequent popping up and down to get things that OH MY GOD I MUST HAVE RIGHT THIS INSTANT, LIKE FIVE PENCILS AND A PEN AND MY PENCIL CASE AND ANOTHER CHAIR AND JUST THAT ONE TISSUE).

Halfway between the desk where he was working (also a sign of impending doom -- when he starts wanting to be all by himself) with Aide Mrs. B (with Sleeping Beauty in Hawaii and Superhero at home, it was one adult per kid today...that'll never happen again), he froze.

His hand went dramatically to his head. Picture this but with more of a "d'oh!" expression:

"Uh oh!" he said.

When he's in that giddy mood, just about anything can happen.  "What?" I said.

He held out the cord for the headphones and pointed to the tip that would normally be inserted into a CD or mp3 player.  

"Uh oh!" he said again, and shook his head, then signed "Home, broken."

(Translated:  "Whoops!  My headphones aren't plugged into anything because my CD player is at home and broken.")

I opened my mouth to commiserate, when Bulldozer stuck the headphone cord into his pocket, touched his ears with a grin, and started singing again.

Why People Have SLRs

(Both pictures have been cropped to eliminate reflections from the surface they were sitting on, and have had some minor exposure/contrast corrections done in Aperture.)

2 year old 7 megapixel point and shoot, propped on a mailbox, 15 sec exposure using self-timer:

4 (?!?! holy cow -- it's been that long?!) year old 6 megapixel Digital Rebel, on a roll of packing tape on top of my car, 36 second exposure using my nifty new remote shutter release:

There's still some grain and color weirdness in this one, but not nearly as much as the point and shoot, and significantly less noise (I had to zoom in and use the loupe to see it on this one, as opposed to just use the loupe for the point and shoot).

Of course, now that I'm getting the hang of more of the manual features on my Rebel, I'm starting to feel like it's time to think about upgrading to the 40D, not that I have money for that at the moment (Sparky Junior, I'm looking at you).  The 5D hasn't been updated in forever, and the 1D is overkill for a hobbyist like me.

(Dang, though, this is an expensive hobby.)

Meanwhile, it's been quite the week.  I picked up a stomach bug on Monday, had to go to a meeting on our useless language arts program on Tuesday, wherein half my class fell 100% apart (turns out I gave the bug to Superhero, who was grumpy), and Bulldozer had the bug today.

But my funny story today.  The other week, I got my hug from Goodfella.  We have APE class with most of Teacher M's class, including Pudge.

The teacher is....

Yeah, anyway.

So every time we go to PE, Pudge finds Aide Mrs. B and latches himself to her (usually covering his ears in distress from the insane noise and activity level in there -- it's a sensory overload nightmare and I'd actually consider bowing out for the summer if Mr. Voice didn't receive the service).

Today, after banging sticks on the floor to the tune of "We Will Rock You," they got out yarn balls and had the kids (I kid you not) chuck 'em at each other.

Pudge was wandering, vocalizing a bit, and his teacher was following him.

Pudge wandered over to me, so I said, "Sit down, buddy," in my softest, most soothing voice.  He plopped down in front of me and leaned on my legs, and stayed there for ten minutes.

(Until they got out the ginormous beach ball and let the kids hit that at each other.  Yeah.)

In related news, if you ever want to see a textbook example of "overstimulated" and "sensory overload," come visit M after APE.

Seriously.

Now THAT Is How You Do It

I came home today from an aborted attempt at a final blood test from Bulldozer biting me in February (someone counted wrong and should have had me come in August), 

and find the usual random selections in my TiVo's suggestions folder.

Most often, those suggestions are cooking shows (because I have a season pass for Good Eats) and history channel specials (because I watch those all the time).

Today, one of them was an episode of Molto Mario, a show where Mario Batali is alone in a kitchen cooking for three guests.

Imagine my surprise when one of his guests turns out to be a woman with Down syndrome.  (Based on a couple of close-ups, I'd guess she was in her thirties.)

Now, that's cool enough.

It gets better.

Mario fields questions from his guests as he talks about what he was doing.  The woman with Down syndrome asked three questions (I honestly couldn't tell if they were scripted or not, but my guess, based on Mario's reaction to her second one -- see below -- was that they were not).

And Mario handled them beautifully.

The woman (if they said her name, I didn't catch it) spoke slowly and laboriously, but he didn't rush her or put words into her mouth.  He waited until she finished her first question (she asked how he got flavor into vinegar, which I think was asking why he put olive oil and vinegar in a pan together to cook) and then answered it cheerfully.

Without talking down to her.

He took her question as seriously as he would take a question from anybody else, and explained that the heat would cook the two together into a syrup that would taste very good.

She asked a second question when he started cooking a pasta, and got the same careful attention.  She asked, loosely quoted, "Pasta - you're supposed to cook pasta al dente always, right?"

He paused for a second -- I think trying to come up with something to say other than "yes" -- and then cheerfully went into an explanation of how exactly to determine how long to cook a pasta to cook it al dente (follow the instructions on the bag, but subtract 30 seconds from the lowest number (so if it says 8-9 minutes, cook it 7.5) because whatever sauce you add will cook it more).

Finally, at the end, she asked why he put extra olive oil on something that had finished cooking, and he explained, unhesitatingly, that it would the heat would make it taste "exceptional."

Kudos, Mario.

I'll always be a Good Eats girl 'cause of the science, but that was just awesome.  Kudos, kudos, kudos.  His interaction with her should be used as a training video for "how to interact respectfully with adults with cognitive disabilities."

Oh Dear

Hmm.

I went back and fixed a typo in the previous post, and when it updated, it turned into the massive block of text of doom.

It's much too late now, but I'll try to fix it and make it readable tomorrow.

Sorry 'bout that.  :-(

Randomness

So, I found the little CD folder I had used to take DVDs to Disney World last summer.

(Yeah, yeah.) 

Anyway, I had slipped in what I thought were season 3 DVDs of Lois and Clark; they were, in fact, season 4.  

Now, the first half of season 3 is my favorite run of episodes in the series, from the first episode ("Who's asking?  Clark...or Superman?") through the Christmas one.  Right after the Christmas one, the frog thing happened, and...yeah. But now I'm on kind of a Lois and Clark kick, which is a shame because the DVDs are very poorly labeled (hence me packing what I thought was season 3 and was, in fact, season 4). 

So, in order to distract myself, I went trolling through things that were hanging out on my TiVo waiting for my attention, and found one of my favorite early Stargate episodes ("The Fifth Race," where Jack absorbs knowledge of the Ancients and -- even better -- begins speaking randomly in Ancient.  At one point, he grumbles, "I've apparently lost the fallatus to speak properly!") along with a good Cam/Sam 'shippy one ("Line in the Sand") from later on. 

Then I notice that there's an X-Files on there that I haven't watched in a long time -- "Triangle," an episode that was set in the Bermuda Triangle on a ship in the 30s -- only to find that Sci-Fi had shifted its schedule ahead by five minutes, so the end was cut off.  Grr. 

(They do that a lot with late night Twilight Zone reruns too.) 

Sci-Fi has been promoting the heck out of Stargate: Atlantis's return next week, and...well, I don't much care.  I did like the episode "Trio" last year, wherein Sam, McKay, and the doctor were trapped in a big hole (I especially liked the doctor's casual reference to a bar game, and Sam and Rodney's blank "huh?" reaction), but that's about the only episode I've watched in full in years.

Meanwhile, adapting Greek myths for my kiddos this summer has been fascinating.  It turns out, for instance, that the Titans' parents were Mother Earth and Father Sky.  Not only that -- the Greeks had a flood myth, just like most other culture in the world.  In theirs, Zeus was so angry about Pandora opening the box, he sent a flood to destroy all of mankind, except for a couple of humans who floated around in a box. 

Ironically enough, a couple of weeks ago, I found a neat book on the bargain rack at Borders called Parallel Myths.  I have only skimmed some of it, but the gist of the book is to examine those exact similarities. It'll be interesting to see what the author says.  

I had a teacher in high school who led us in a discussion of Jung and the collective unconscious after reading Heart of Darkness (although it may have been The Metamorphosis -- but I don't think so...'cause that was the one she likened to the episode of TNG where they think they've left the holodeck but haven't).  

Anyway, she asked us to follow along the argument that all the similarities in all of these cultures come from humanity sharing some sort of unconscious bond, and we create these stories because we're all tapped into it. 

Funny...I only just now realized exactly how radical a thought that was for a teacher at a Catholic high school. Anyway, I find the subject fascinating on a variety of levels.  Are we all tapped into some shared memory, as Jung's theory would suggest?  Are we, as a historian on a special about Egypt once said, a species with amnesia?  Do we all have expulsion-from-paradise stories because, at some level, we remember becoming aware and, for lack of a better word, sentient, and leaving the carefree in-the-present world behind? 

Clearly something is going on, for cultures all around the world to have stories about fallen "angels" (for lack of a better word), stories about a great flood (perhaps remembering a period of high ocean levels, or a remembrance of a particularly terrible tsunami), but is it just expression of universal fears, or something more? 

Richard Matheson's What Dreams May Come posits that heaven is what you expect it to be -- that your own expectations and desires frame your existence.  So, if you expect heaven to be floating around in the clouds, that is what you'll experience.  If it's lounging around on an endless beach, that's what you'll experience. 

If that's true, you'll find me planted in a giant celestial library, watching playback of Earth's earliest history. I wanna know, one way or the other, about Atlantis.  I wanna know if it really was the Minoan civilization on Santorini, with outposts like Akrotiri that faded into obscurity, or if it really was an actual continent that sank. (Or, if -- again bringing up the idea of a species with amnesia -- if it's some much earlier memory of continental drift changing landscapes.) 

Speaking of Atlantis, however, one other fannish-type thing:  Cameron Mitchell is just too cool for words. 

Actually, two:  I saw posters for the X-Files movie today.  Despite my desperately trying not to have expectations of it going in -- one way or the other -- it's kinda neat to have that to look forward to. 

Okay, three:  the Star Wars special I watched yesterday was interesting but I think it didn't quite do Amidala or Leia justice.  I do agree with them that the movies are way more about Anakin's journey than the first...err...the 70s era trilogy would have had you believe.  Also, I like that they acknowledged Anakin as a tragic hero -- who caused his own doom (much like Oedipus) by trying to avoid his own doom.

Real Life Crossover

Okay, so, it's Saturday night and nothing is on TV, so I end up watching a History Channel special called "Star Wars: The Legacy Revealed." (Note in regards to my prior post...the rule also works for episodes and series titles.  "The Trouble with Tribbles" is a popular episode of Star Trek, and "The Choice" is to Farscape what "The Body" is to Buffy.  However, I'm not quite sure where this special falls...it's two hours, but I wouldn't call it a movie....) Anyway, all sorts of important sci-fi people are providing commentary, including (so far) J. J. Abrams, Joss Whedon, Kevin Smith, and Peter Jackson. It's Peter Jackson that prompted the post. He has, apparently, lost quite a bit of weight since his Lord of the Rings days...and he now looks a whole lot like the guy who played Merry when he was on Lost (I think it's the beard). It kinda broke my brain a bit.

Grammar Lesson for Today

I was reading a message board thread about songs, and I hit upon a new grammar pet peeve.

You put song titles in "quotation marks."

You italicize the name of the album.

(Memory trick:  Short things get quotation marks.  Long things get italicized.)

So, this is correct:  My favorite version of the song "Hallelujah" is on k.d. lang's album Hymns of the 49th Parallel.

Bonus tip:  The same trick memory trick works for stories and books.  Short stories get quotation marks; books get italicized.

So, this is correct:  The only thing of Stephen King's I've ever finished is the story "The Langoliers" from the book Four Past Midnight.

Yikes

I love my iPhone.  I really do.  I am also planning on handing it down on or near the 11th when I buy my birthday present for myself (a 16 GB iPhone 3G).But...that's a week from now...and there's already a line?

Yikes.

ETA:  Speaking of lines...I imagine I will be taking Patrick to Disneyland on Sunday....

ETA2:  Hey!  It's Patrick's friend!  Awesome!  (Yes, he rides the monorail enough that pilots recognize him, and many stop to chat with him -- especially Bill, the one in the picture.)

The 32 D'ohs

Yes, there really is a sound file somewhere on the Internet composed of 32 "d'ohs" right in a row.

What makes me think of it is that I just managed to scrape straight up my left arm, nearly from elbow to wrist, on the spring that popped out of the side of my mattress some time ago.

(Yes, I should get a new mattress, but I mostly remember it's there, and as I have a California King sized bed (a hand-me-down), mattresses are expensive.)

Ow.

The long campaign of making Bulldozer not hate his communication device began today, when I made him Bingo caller (our spelling words this week are the basic colors, which he -- not so coincidentally -- adores talking about).  He began to hate his device when he began to hate speech -- also not so coincidentally, but that's another story.

He did, however, sit with Speech Aide C -- who may not be returning to our school next year due to budget issues -- and do actual speech with her for nearly 20 minutes, quite happily.

Ironically, she sends everybody else she works with into a tailspin meltdown.

Also, once upon a time at our school, there was a boy named MF, as opposed to MW.  MF, because he is extremely intelligent, was moved to a more challenging program.  Every time -- every time -- I have seen MF this summer, walking to or from the bus, some aide has been leading him BY THE HAND.

Grrr.

I had MF one summer for summer school -- I think he was in first grade at the time.  I didn't lead him by the hand then.  He knew where he was going.

Grrrr.

Of course, I also can't figure out why former student J (the one who was legally blind) is coming to school every day with someone who I assume to be her mom, using a white cane, only to have her mom take the cane home with her every day.

So, we have my brain struggling with: (1) Hooray!  She finally got a cane! and (2) Um...canes only help if you use them...in this, you know, unfamiliar, crowded environment.

Bwuah?

A Ha!

Okay, here's the thing.

I cannot -- absolutely cannot -- pick faces (or anything, really) out of a crowd.  I call it "Can't See the Trees for the Forest Syndrome."

I vividly remember one day when I was about twelve or so -- I was helping teach a class at the park near my house with this lady Vicki.  Vicki wanted something in the art supply cabinet.

I remember opening the cabinet and just seeing...stuff.  No rhyme, no reason -- I had seen all of it, knew what all of it was, but all my brain could see was...a great big mass of stuff.

"No, no, down!" she said.

I looked down.  Stuff, stuff, and stuff.

"To the left."

I looked left.

Stuff, and stuff.

"It's right in front of you."

Eventually, I found whatever it was...but what I had to do was look at each item in the area she indicated individually, until I found whatever it was.  I'm sure she was thinking that it would have been easier for her to get up and get whatever it was herself.

I have the same problems with faces in crowds.  Faces, faces, faces...if I don't have something concrete to hold onto (at my cousin's graduation, I knew she was near the beginning, and found her only because she was right behind two boys), I don't have much of a hope of finding things.

But I recognize people, and I recognize voices.

(Doesn't mean I put names with faces, mind, but that's irrelevant for this discussion.)

Keep in mind that I watch a lot of sci-fi.  Lots of times, people are buried under prostheses and makeup, and sometimes even contacts.  But I recognize them.

In fact, I recognized him:

as also being him:

In this case, it was, I kid you not, the fingers and the smile...even under all that make-up.

So when I mentioned a while ago that the guy who played Nicki's boyfriend on Heroes looked like the guy who played Gunn on Angel, it was with misgivings.

I know what he looks like, and it wasn't him...but I never quite got rid of the idea that he had something to do with Angel.

I was close.

He played Forrest, one of Riley's buddies, on several episodes of Buffy in the fourth season.

So...

equals...

I'm actually a little put out that I could recognize Rene Auberjonois under all that make-up, and not this guy, even though he played humans in both cases.

Still, it's nice to solve the mystery.

By the way -- I'm all caught up, but...did I miss the part that explains why Matt and Molly live with Mohinder?  Or, for that matter, how Matt convinced anyone that he should have custody of Molly?

Well, Darn

General Hammond has gone to the great Stargate in the sky.

RIP, Don S. Davis.

Fandom types will also remember him as Scully's late father in the X-Files episodes "Beyond the Sea" and "One Breath." 

A quick trip to imdb.com says he was also in episodes of Psych, Supernatural, West Wing, Andromeda, The (newest) Twilight Zone, two episodes of The Outer Limits (playing different characters), and an episode of Highlander, along with starting in co-starring in Twin Peaks, amongst many, many other things.

But, to me, he's General Hammond, and I always picture him with two expressions: either the why-on-Earth-did-I-take-this-job incredulity as his best team insisted an invisible Urgo was talking to them in their heads; and the look on his face when Jack started spouting technobabble in "The Fifth Race."

Mistaken Identity

I got a great big hug from Goodfella today (I think?  Is Goodfella Boy M?).

As in, he saw me, opened his arms up, and half-ran, half-waddled ('cause that's just him) right up to me.

I think he thought I was Cat, though.

I Am Officially Insane

Here is a peak into how my brain works.

For years, while standing in line for Pirates of the Caribbean, my brain would immediately latch on to whatever my particular 'ship of the moment was (Riker/Troi, Tom/B'Elanna, and others...) and concoct ridiculous reasons for them to be in line for Pirates.

Only Pirates, mind.

(No, I don't know why.  Really.  I have absolutely, honestly, 100% no idea why it would be Pirates and nothing else.)

And, no, not with me.  Just...in line for Pirates.  I think with Tom and B'Elanna it was often Tom introducing B'Elanna to Disney in an attempt at helping her connect with her inner child.  I dunno.

But now, the last three times I've been to Disneyland, my brain has helpfully provided the beginning of a scene of a full-fledged story, that actually makes sense, where it's actually reasonable for the characters to be at Disneyland.

It's getting harder to avoid writing it.

I am utterly insane.

Another Photography Discovery

My point and shoot vastly over-saturates green.  Yeesh.  I was messing around with a few photos in Aperture, which has a slider called "vibrancy" -- which, essentially, saturates everything but skin tones.

It makes the photos beautiful, but on every single one, I've had go to back and desaturate the greens just a little bit.

Also?  One of these days, I'll win the lottery and be able to afford a wide angle lens.  Yeesh, are those things expensive...most of them cost more than my Rebel + kit lens did together a few years ago.

Bigger Picture

Still not 100% happy with it, but I'll figure it out.  It's still overexposed just a tiny bit (the lights on some of the letters, for instance).

A Rant, Squee, and a Review

Okay, first things first.

The rant.

It's Autopia.

As in "auto" and "utopia."

It is not auto-topia.

It is au-to-pi-a.

Four syllables.

Anything else is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me.

Now, second.  The squee.

Nighttime photography is still very difficult for me.  For one thing, I'm too lazy to lug a tripod around.  For another, I've been more or less using my point and shoot because it has a self-timer (I've now figured out how to have my SLR delay a shot, so that my finger on the shutter release doesn't cause blurring).

But I was still limited, as far as I could determine, to what the camera decided was the best exposure.

Until last night, as I sat holding a table at Plaza Inn, exploring the menus (I was bored...), when I noticed that the menus are different for each mode.  (Duh.)

In the semi-manual mode, I noticed an on/off toggle for "long exposure."

I clicked it on.

Voila.

One second to fifteen second exposure.  Yee-haw.

(Larger version available later...I clicked the wrong setting when I exported from Aperture.)

So I spent the rest of the night wandering around Main Street, finding tree stakes, trash cans...anything that I could possibly brace my camera on.  I played around with exposure times up to 10 seconds (way, insanely overexposed...whoops).

My only complaint right now is that I can't find a way to mess with the aperture so that I could get one of those longer exposures without overexposing the lights and such.

Also?  My oh my does it eat up batteries.  Yikes.  I guess a few more of these need to go on my Amazon wish list.

Now, the review.

Toy Story Mania (a.k.a. Midway Mania) is very fun.

The video game aspect of it was very fun, especially since I'm fairly certain the "practice game" at the beginning actually determines your skill level (I'd read that the difficulty would be adaptive so that kids could feel successful at the ride).  My accuracy was lousy (40ish percent) but I think that was because I was deliberately aiming for the higher-point-value targets, instead of whacking the heck out of the cheap ones.

The inside of the ride is nifty.  My favorite was the big Candy Land board, but I think Patrick will enjoy that his Adventureland board game is featured too.

It's very much like the Buzz ride, except that instead of shooting as you go, it stops for five (?) mini-games, like throwing rings at the three-eyed green aliens ("The claw!  The claw is our master.  The claw chooses who will go and who will stay.") and trying to smash plates.

My only complaint is that as you whip around from one mini-game to another, you get tossed around a bit.

(Also, speaking as someone who has to worry about such things, the cars are much bigger than they seem.  When I saw the opening to get in, my heart stuttered a little, but it must be an optical illusion.  It was pretty comfortable.)

There was a group of adults with Down syndrome in line.  One of the guys, who was about sixty, is so what Patrick is going to look like in 40 years, right down to his Disneyland t-shirt, and rolled-eyed exasperation when the person with him gave him a hug.  Another looked like Superhero in fifty or sixty years.

Ow

Note from me to Motrin: WORK FASTER PLEASE.

Note from me to science:  Please invent the fake pregnancy thingie Huxley talked about in Brave New World, 'cause then I wouldn't have to take 3 Motrin every four hours for three days a month.

Thank you.

Vid Rec and Heroes

So, I made it through the first season of Heroes, and the premiere of the second.

A few thoughts.

*  Hiro is awesome personified.  He did what all us geeks wish we could do: wake up one day with super powers and have the strength of will to use them for good.

*  I used to say, "Every Frodo needs his Sam."  That is now interchangeable with, "Every Hiro needs his Ando."  Ando is also made of awesomeness, especially when he goes to confront Sylar alone.

To that end, check out the first vid on this page, "Sawatte Kawatte."  I downloaded the subbed version, but it would probably work just as well as an "instrumental" -- possibly even better.

*  I like that no one is one hundred percent good or bad.  I really, truly felt bad for Sylar when he was with his mom, even though he'd been slicing open people's heads (GROSS).  I vacillated with Mr. Bennett -- which, I think, is what I was supposed to do.  Mohinder was mostly so focused about helping people, but then almost killed Sylar.  No easy answers.  Nifty.

*  I find it interesting that Peter and Sylar both have the same gift.  I like the idea (was it the dead guy Peter saw at the end of the season? I forget.) that it's ultimately empathy that's his gift -- and through that, he absorbs others' powers.

*  The LA police officer...hmm....  I mean, what an awful power, if you can't shut it off -- can you imagine hearing a stray unkind thought about yourself?  Even if the person who thought it was just frustrated?  I don't quite get him working with Nuclear Dude -- it seemed like a plot device to get all of them in New York so Peter's dream would be mostly accurate.

* I find myself wondering if Hiro's dad had a gift.

*  I also found it interesting that Hiro can't be that much older than Claire -- when he was playing his Game Boy as Hiro's dad handed 1-year-old Claire to Mr. Bennett, he didn't look much older than 7 or 8.  That means current Hiro is in his early 20s.

*  Sylar.  I don't buy that Sylar's dead.  If Peter had absorbed Claire's healing powers enough to jump off that thing at Homecoming, and he had just been fighting with Sylar -- wouldn't Sylar have absorbed it too.

*  Mrs. Bennett and that dog drove me freaking insane.  And, yes, I know her brain looks more like Swiss cheese than a brain, thanks to Haitian Guy, but...seriously?

*  I warmed up, a bit, to the Nikki/Jessica story-line.  I think it got old, and I'd like to know if it was multiple personalities, or really Jessica's spirit, but...I did stop fast forwarding through them.

* Mohinder could say the alphabet for me, and I'd be enthralled.

* As if I weren't having enough trouble with the upcoming Star Trek movie....  The guy who plays Sylar had better be, like, the second coming of the Acting muse, if he wants me to look at him and see Spock, and not Sylar.  Geesh.

* I am endlessly fascinated (it's that language thing) by the fact that Hiro pronounces his last name differently when he's speaking in Japanese than when he's speaking in English.  I don't know why -- I just find it fascinating.  When he speaks in Japanese, the accent is on the "ka" -- NaKAmura -- and when he speaks in English, it's on the "mu" -- NakaMUra.  Coolness.

* I want to talk to ATM machines.  Seriously.

* I'm not quite sure whether Nathan -- or, actually, most of the Petrelli clan -- are in the "good guy," "bad guy," or "motivated self-interest" camp.  Which, I guess speaks to the above that no one is wholly good or evil.

*  Obviously, the symbol that keeps cropping up -- Jessica's tattoo, on Hiro's sword, and so forth -- means something.

* I felt absolutely awful for Hiro when he couldn't save the waitress.  :-(

*  I still don't quite get how saving the cheerleader = saving the world.

*  Will Claire age and die?

*  And, finally, having seen just a bit of the second season:  I rather thought for a moment that the Japanese hero guy would be Hiro's dad (revealing his power was immortality).  Now, I wonder if Hiro either talked the British guy into doing the heroic stuff, or did them himself.

Now, go watch the video.  And smile at Hiro's awesomeness.

Timing

So, the biological clock conspired to make me extra tired during the first week of summer school.  Oh well.

Two of the applications I sent in the last week of school vanished into thin air; one of these was for Sleeping Beauty, whose parents were all freaked in the first place about sending in the application late.  :-(

So far, my summer school class consists of (are ya ready for this?) Bulldozer, PH (who is on my roll but has not shown up yet), Hair Girl, Superhero, Mr. Voice, Sleeping Beauty (as of today), and, for one hour a day, 3rd Grade Girl B, who needs a nickname (I wanted Whining Girl but she actually hasn't yet....).

We're doing...okay.  The office had no idea who my staff was supposed to be -- but, then, they seem to know very little about anything having to do with summer school this year.  Anyhow, as it stands right now (unless Elastigirl's parents decide to send her), it's me, Aide L (the sub who came to our school the last three weeks or so, who I would keep in a heartbeat if I thought I could convince someone to combine two positions into one 6.25 hour position), Aide Mrs. B, and, for an hour a day, Aide D.

Bulldozer had a couple of meltdowns so far -- over the usual...like being told he couldn't put his Capri Sun on his Cheerios when it wasn't snack time.  As gross as it sounds, I'd have let him at any other time.

Superhero's been really, really, REALLY close to channeling his Red Kryptonite, but hasn't yet.

Hair Girl...hyped is the...restrained way of phrasing it.

And Mr. Voice got pushed into total meltdown mode this morning by Speech Aide C.

Anyway, the combined result of not knowing who on Earth was actually going to be in my class, combined with being kicked out at 4:00 on Friday, means I've been playing catch-up all week, when what I really want to do is GO TO SLEEP.

Oh well.

For amusement purposes, io9.com has a trip down memory lane.... (My side! Your side! My side! Your si -- whoops.  Wrong show.  Shut up, quote brain.)

Heroes Update

My continued apologies to Heroes fans; I'm up to the eighth or ninth episode of season 1, and I am definitely intrigued.  It strikes me as the type of show, though, that could easily veer off-course, delaying the big reveal of the mystery season by season because it's being renewed.

(Rather, I understand, like what's happened to Lost.)

The Simone story is...meh...and I sometimes skip past the Jessica/Niki bits -- I'm just not taken by that story yet.

I like Hiro a lot -- his enthusiasm is definitely endearing (and all the Star Trek references don't hurt :-)), and his excitedly showing Niki's kid the comic book that's about him was just awesome, and Mohinder's accent is...well, melt-worthy -- yay for the intro and epilogue he does on all the episodes.  I sense nothing but bad happening with the whole Claire and her father thing.

By the way -- it seems a huge stretch that Hiro's friend (Ando?) watched Niki on-line, so I imagine that'll have some meaning later, but we'll see...it's just that years of watching Babylon 5 and other arc-driven shows have given me something of a sixth sense for things that are too convenient.

Also?  Niki's (ex-?) husband reminds me of Gunn on Angel...a lot.

It's HOT!

Earth to Crazy Person

So, I've  been reading a really interesting discussion on Peter David's blog about the marriages that began taking place yesterday.

(Most of the pictures here are pretty cool, including a couple more of that couple in their 80s.)

Anyhow, it reminded me of...how to say this nicely....

Okay, I'll go for pure objectivity.

There was coverage on the channel 11 news yesterday of the marriages.  The coverage was largely positive, but they did talk to a protester who was -- well, eloquent she was not.

(Not that I would be if a TV reporter came up to me and started talking to me on-camera, but whatever.)

Anyway, when asked why she was protesting, she said, more or less (slightly paraphrasing from memory, here),  "It's just -- the state of families today -- they're falling apart.  There are so many kids coming from single parent homes!"

At which point, my Earth logic kicked in, and demanded, "Wait.  You're protesting couples formalizing their relationships and becoming legal families because there are too many broken families out there? Bwuah?"

You know, I won't agree with you, but I'd be far more likely to take your argument seriously if you weren't honestly trying to convince me that making 2-parent homes is somehow related to a rise in single-parent homes.

Or, you know, if you employed Earth logic.

Yum

Backwoods Inn + stuffed baked potato + Bea's Bakery + dobosh torte + not dropping the box a second time = happy SpooWriter.

Yummy.

Warning: Political Post

I've debated how to discuss this, and came to a few conclusions.

I could discuss the fact that I believe banning same-sex marriage is in direct opposition to Equal Protection under the law, as it prevents a couple from obtaining a marriage license based on the gender of one of the two people applying for such.

But I won't.

I could discuss the fact that marriage, as the state sees it, is a civil contract, and that the state allowing same-sex marriage does not prevent Homophobic Church #4 from refusing to allow same-sex couples to participate in the religious ceremony of marriage if they so choose.

But I won't.

I could discuss the fact there are, no doubt, churches that continue to refuse to marry people of different races, and that that is their right if they choose to do so.  I don't agree with it, but the civil contract aspect of marriage that entitles people to rights, protections, and responsibilities within the federal and state government is entirely separate to the religious ceremony of marriage.

But I won't.

I could discuss the fact that there are not, in fact, a limited number of marriage certificates, and that allowing same-sex couples to apply for, and receive, them does not mean that there will be fewer for heterosexual couples.

But I won't.

I could discuss, in an effort to persuade any reluctant readers, the fact that allowing people to go to city hall and get a marriage license in no way compels you to perceive them as religiously married, nor does it require you to approve of their marriage any more than you are required to approve of any other marriage, whether that's because those getting married are too young, are drug addicts, or in some other way don't meet your requirements for a good marriage.  It is a matter between them and the state.

But I won't.

I could, and someday may, be able to eloquently (I hope) defend, in a calm and rational manner, why I think that the California ruling allowing same-sex marriage is such a wonderful -- long, long overdue -- thing.

But I won't.

I could point out that, while you can go to City Hall and be married in the eyes of the state whether or not you have wedding in church, the opposite is most definitely not true.  The government is not regulating what your church decides is or is not applicable.  It is looking at the City Hall part of the process.

But I won't.

What I will say is simply this:  congratulations.

(P.S.  This picture makes me smile.  So does this one.)

Book Review: The Andromeda Strain

So, I think I said before that I picked up The Andromeda Strain after watching the eponymous miniseries -- or, trying to -- to see how similar it was.

First things first:  The plot of the book is much less...I don't want to say complex...it's much more focused in the book than in the miniseries.  For instance, there is no intrepid reporter hiking through the deserts promising God he'll never, ever again get high.

(Seriously.)

So, let's start with a brief plot synopsis -- of the plot in the book.  Keep in mind, it was written in 1969, with 1960s technology in mind.  Also keep in mind that, being published in 1969, it was written in the era of manned space flights but before Apollo 11.

The idea here is that there are likely organisms living in the upper atmosphere that humans would have limited or no immunity for -- rather like what happens when long-separated populations meet again.  Simple things can be very, very deadly.

To study this, NASA sends up satellites that "scoop" material from the upper atmosphere (thus, Project Scoop) and bring it back to Earth to examine.

One of the Project Scoop satellites comes down outside Piedmont, an isolated town in Nevada.  Within hours, everyone in the town except one old man and one infant, is dead.  Most died instantly, the blood in their body congealed into flaky, dusty stuff.  Some went insane and killed themselves in weird ways.

So, a bunch of scientists who had previously signed up for Project Wildfire are called into action.  They work in an underground lab that sounds an awful lot like Stargate SG-1's Cheyenne Mountain.

Their goal is to discover the source of the contagion and to eliminate it.

After much back and forth and drawn-out explanations of things we all take for granted today (seriously, he explains electron microscopes), they come to the stunning conclusion that it has mutated and is harmless.

Seriously.

Okay, stuff happens in between (turns out the folks that survived it survived because their blood chemistry was messed up -- the old guy had acidosis from an untreated ulcer and the baby's blood was too basic because (I absolutely kid you not) he cried too much and had too much CO2 in his blood), but basically, the conclusion is that it's not made of protein, it is in regular hexagons (so it's probably a crystal) and that it mutates.

So, let's get into comparing the book with the movie.

Things the book did better:

* The plot is almost largely contained in Piedmont and within the Wildfire installation -- we're not having to follow government agencies, army units, and some reporter guy detoxing in the desert

* The science is more believable -- there is no time traveling, there are no wormholes, there are no buckyballs...it sticks with the one premise that this is something weird and something alive that may or may not have come from outer space

Things the movie did better:

* ...Individually, all the scientific things they talked about in the movie (wormholes, time travel, buckyballs) are things I find intellectually fascinating (though presented all at once, it...strained credulity)

* The end.  Well, rather, the solving of the Andromeda puzzle.  The keeping of Andromeda on the International Space Station?  Not so much.  (I mean, really....)

Things the movie did worse:

* Um...most of it

* No, seriously, most of it.  The plot was a mangled, overwrought, overcomplicated mess.

Criticisms of the book:

* I had to read the ending three times to actually believe that after the whole frelling thing, everything was okay because Andromeda itself had mutated and wasn't dangerous anymore

   **  I mean, Andromeda is more or less the "bad guy" here -- and it just dissipates harmlessly on the wind

* I don't buy that the very smart scientists made the errors that Crichton made them make -- like not dissecting the lab rats that died from Andromeda.  These guys are supposed to be the best in their field, and they are supposed to be trained to deal with a threat that could come, literally, from space.

   **  It's not so much the errors -- is the number and frequency of them, and the fact that they are all the critical errors that make the whole thing last longer (not that it matters, 'cause Andromeda reforms itself and stops killing people...sigh).  It's too convenient.

Overall, it's a serviceable story, I suppose.  And, I realize that part of the point of the story is that we can't predict organisms that live in the upper layers of the atmosphere, or in outer space, etc. etc. etc.  But from a dramatic point of view, there's no climax.

The seals around Andromeda break down, and this guy is hyperventilating in order to try and stay alive, and, oh-my-gosh, everything's okay, 'cause Andromeda doesn't kill people anymore -- and we know that because it's already over Los Angeles and no one is dying or going crazy.

What the heck?

I mean, that's...that's the equivalent of Voldemort fading away in a puff of smoke just before the Battle of Hogwarts, never to bother anyone again.  You gear up for this showdown -- you think, "Oh, yay, they've got it!  They've figured it out! All they have to do is mess with the blood's pH...make everyone take antacids, and it's all good!" -- and then Crichton says, "Oh, ha ha, never mind -- I made the problem fix itself."

Until the last fifteen pages or so, I actually really liked the book, in a mindless, Angels and Demons kinda way.  It was a puzzle that I didn't take as literal fact, but I enjoyed following along as we tried to solve the puzzle, if that makes sense.

Final grade: C

(It would have been a B if not for the ending.  Grr.)

Stop and Think

Look, I realize that lots of grammatical errors, especially on the Internet, are simply a result of typing too fast.  You get going, and before you know it, an apostrophe sneaks its way into the word, and all of a sudden the dog was chasing "it's" tail.

I get it.  I do.

It's really easy to type an extra "o" and have someone loose their pants (I hope they tightened them).

But what I don't get is when the error itself makes no sense.

How can something be a "worse-case scenario?"  I mean, stop and think about it.  That implies there is something that could, indeed, be even worse.

Yes, this was prompted by something I read.

(But this makes my eyes itch almost as badly as "I could care less," which, of course, means that you actually do care some since you are capable of caring less than you do now.)

Hmph.

An Owl!

I'm not even sure how I started checking out videos from my childhood on YouTube, but I do know this:

I still, to this day, a living, breathing grown-up, crack up when Ernie yells, "An owl!" and Bert bolts upright with a scream.

My Eyes!

I...

I just...

I...

There are no words.

Well, there are, but...I think I lost them.

Sorry, Heroes Fans

I have this unfortunate history, when I begin watching a show after its premiere.  (That is, I catch it in reruns, begin a season or two in, etc.)

The show rapidly gets cancelled.

I've had the first two episodes of Heroes in my iTunes library for years, and I finally got around to watching them.

Oops.

Heroes fans, I'm terribly sorry.

(Also: It would be a Universal show that is no longer carried on iTunes.)

On a related note, I am utterly convinced Hiro's name is Hiro solely so that his buddy could utter the line "Super Hiro!"

Heh.

Um...What the Heck, Brain?

Okay, let's get the nerdy part out of the way: I am adding lyrics with Miyu to a video (that I totally didn't -- even though I own it -- rip from a DVD) of Nights From the Alhambra.

And, yet, what my brain is stuck on is that Loreena McKennitt looks an awful lot like Amanda Plummer.

Observe:

Amanda Plummer in the Outer Limits episode "A Stitch in Time"

Loreena McKennitt in Nights From the Alhambra. 

I Heart Adama, Redux

"About time."

I'll just be in a puddle over here....

ETA:  The ring.... (Sigh)

So Close

(The IEP was 95% fine; it turned out as I wrote it that I did, in fact, have all her goals planned...just subconsciously, like normal.  I'd even taken the appropriate data.  I love how my brain works.  The 5% not fine was that the parents were excited to meet the middle school teacher -- who emailed me to let me know that she has been put on bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy.  Whoops.)

Anyway.

Picture this.

You're a mostly-shy, mostly-retiring girl who doesn't really enjoy the spotlight of lots of people.  However, you are pretty excited to have a family gathering of both sides of the family to celebrate your sixteenth birthday.  You, by a large margin, don't want to be the sole focus of attention...but it's a fairly small gathering of very familiar people, and you're mostly okay with it.

Except...

...that five days ago, these two people, that you've never heard of, were killed in Brentwood.

And the suspected killer -- who you had also never heard of -- is driving his white Bronco down a local freeway at 35 miles per hour, pursued by every CHP officer in Southern California.

And everyone -- everyone -- is glued to the TV.

You find yourself thinking things like: I know I didn't want to be the center of attention, exactly, but this is ridiculous.  It'd be nice if people actually noticed I existed.

It's not that I'm bitter, per se, it's just --

Okay, I'm a little bitter.

And then I hear that California was going to start issuing same-sex marriage licenses on June 17, and I thought -- finally, something good for people to associate with the day (which, of course, cheerfully ignores that not everyone shares that opinion, but that's a rant for another day).

But then I hear that San Francisco county officials asked if they could begin after the end of business hours the previous day, and so now county clerks across the state have permission to grant same-sex marriage licenses beginning at 5:00 p.m. June 16th.

Dang.

So close....

Slow but Steady

Hmph.  While not the pulling-every-tooth experience of last year, I am struggling a bit with this one.

Of course, it could be that my eyes hurt with fatigue (yup, it's approaching that time, and, yup, I'm getting messed up now that Sleeping Beauty started her cycle too).

Or it could be that the middle school teacher wanted to talk about goals but never got back to me, and I'm hurting my brain trying to figure out what she would have wanted.

ETA:  Three hours.  That's a whole lot better than last year, which ended up being about 7, if you can trust the time stamps on the old blog posts.

History Repeats Itself

Or, rather, I hope it doesn't.

Exactly a year ago, I was writing Sleeping Beauty's IEP.  Of course, we got out of school later last year, so it wasn't so close to the end of the year.  It was not easy -- because I came into it knowing more or less what goals I wanted for her.

This year, I have no idea, so based on my IEP-writing history, it should be relatively easy.  Right?

Also?  And unrelated except that I'm watching an Extinct Attractions video, I miss Horizons.  And its music.

ETA:  June 10th is a depressing day.  Except for the last one...but that's a rant for another day.

The Green Drop Drink

Congo.

It's the only Michael Crichton book I have ever read, even though I enjoyed (the first) Jurassic Park very much -- I think because of all the science in it.

(Though my nitpicky soul cried out at this exchange:

Mr. Hammond:  It's just a delay; that's all it is.  All major theme parks have delays.  When they opened Disneyland in 1956, nothing worked.

Dr. Malcolm:  But, John, if the Pirates of the Caribbean breaks down, the pirates don't eat the tourists.

Ahem.  Disneyland opened in 1955.  And Pirates didn't exist until 1967.)

Anyway, I had seen the movie (for some reason, I allowed a friend to drag me to a variety of gory movies at the time...Congo was pretty gross, but Outbreak was the worst).

Shakespeare, it was not.

And what I remember most was Amy the gorilla, who was terrified of flying, and who had been fitted with a glove that voiced her signing, repeatedly asked for a "green drop drink" (a martini).

Now, at the time, I had very little understanding of how ASL differs from Signed English, how much facial expression and hand position affect ASL, nor even really an understanding of how very different word order can be in ASL, and I thought that it was a pretty neat idea.

(I still do, but the software would have to be seriously upgraded.)

In any event, that was about the last of it.

Then, of course, A&E produced its heavily marketed (at least on the Discovery and History channels that I primarily watch) Andromeda Strain miniseries.  So, like a good sci-fi fan, I TiVoed it.

Now, in the interim, it had been pretty roundly panned by critics and bloggers alike.

Also -- it took me three days to watch.

And I think the writers may have had too many green drop drinks.

Okay, it was earnestly acted by people that seemed good at their craft.  I was particularly amused to see Ted Atherton play yet another FBI-government-agent type, plus former SG-1 annoying guy Maybourne as...well, another annoying guy.  Eric McCormack was good, but I didn't really get what his character was about.

And then, there was the plethora of sci-fi cliches, all plugged into one movie: bucky balls, time travel, wormholes, aliens, killer viruses, mutations, surviving the virus because of something random, X-Files-like conspiracies...I'm sure I'm missing some here.

So, tonight, I went to pick up a copy of the book to see if all of that was actually in there.  (Did they even know about bucky balls when Crichton wrote the novel?)

ETA:  Googling says, "No, not by a long shot."  Huh.

Anyhow, Borders was out.  Weird.  I'll try to remember to update after I read the book...and find out what else was...err...enhanced.

Anyway, I did, because I'm a nerd like that, buy two other books.  I can't remember the last time I've entered a book store and left without a book....

D'oh!

I was working on the sixth graders' graduation presents (a photo book of their 1, 2, or 3 years -- Angel, Sleeping Beauty, and Superhero, respectively -- with us), and I realized that I don't have any pictures of New Boy B!  Whoops!

Guess I'm taking my camera tomorrow.

The Great Convention in the Sky

Good grief.  Another one.