Via David Thompson: the coolest wind-powered sculptures you'll see all day... maybe all month:
If they were semi-intelligent robots, they would no doubt try to take over the world.
Fortunately, with turning radii of continental proportions, they are relatively easy to avoid.
Unless you walk like I do.
Starting tomorrow, I undergo a series of tests collectively known as a cisternogram.
It starts with a lumbar puncture, during which something slightly radioactive and extremely expensive will be introduced into my spinal fluid.
I'll then be scanned for the next few days — through Wednesday — so they can track the ebb and flow of my spinal fluid and thus, we hope, find the source of the buildup of said fluid in my brain.
I'm told that a lumbar puncture can be uncomfortable. Well, I figure it can't be any worse, in the long run, than not being able to walk... which I now can't do without crutches.
Nehring, on The Simpsons:
Think of it this way, it takes less people to crew ships into space than to write jokes about Homer poking himself in the eye with a hammer.
Heh.
I've just read that Mike Hendrix of Cold Fury lost his wife in a motorcycle accident last Friday.
Condolences are not enough.
Just how, will someone tell me, did the past week go by so quickly?
"Time flies when you're having fun," they say. Apparently the same holds true when all you do is work and sleep.
"Here she comes, to save the day...."*
Mom is coming for a visit again; she'll be here tomorrow.
As my condition continues to gradually decline while I'm getting myself ready for the surgery that will fix me, I can't help but think how fortunate I am that I have a supportive family. It would completely suck to be all on my own for all of this.
Mycah has of late become much more favorably disposed towards her kitty bed. She spends quite a bit of time there — including most of the day today.
Head down, in if-she-can't-see-trouble-it-won't-find-her mode. Thus, she has successfully avoided bad luck on this Friday the 13th.
Friday Ark. Get to it. Now.
Carnival of the Cats. Sunday, at Laurence Simon's 100 Word Stories. (Yes, I am the trivia master to whom he refers.)
There is something profoundly wrong about having one's first cup of coffee of the morning at 2:30 in the afternoon.
But it would be even more wrong to do without.
The scalding-hot water I accidentally spilled earlier today really hurts.
Or I bet it would, if I could actually feel my legs today.
We'll see about tomorrow.
Steve H. of Hog On Ice may be many things — including one of the funniest guys I read — but I can guarantee that he's not an SOB.
Thanks, Steve.
It was a July day, many years ago, when something new was brought into the world, never before seen.
I mean, of course, Mycah — born twelve years ago today.
She doesn't know one day from another, of course... but she's nevertheless getting some tuna today, a good brushing, and plenty of skritches.
Oh, yeah... and there was something about independence today, too....
Mycah's tuna update: Yum!
The Friday Ark is upon us. Go visit, or Mycah will go to your house and eat all your tuna.
Coming this weekend: the 172nd edition of the Carnival of the Cats — which, rumor has it, will be at Mind of Mog.
Ten years ago today, my Dad passed away.
It no longer seems like it was yesterday, but I remember it like it was.
I have the tape recording of his memorial service, which I've copied to mp3 format. I'll be listening to it again tonight.
Imperial Department of Hegemony By Force
