( continues...)
And behind that? Cows, grass, sugarcane. An hour or so ago, a truck drove in empty and left packed with sugarcane.
Next to our building is something else new: a temple. It's very nice, really, with a small fountain, the requisite bell, and idols for the major deities.
Down the road is more village. On a swing is Sukhoofoi, the resident crazy lady. Her characteristic behavior is rubbing her hands together gleefully and laughing with satisfaction.
This is a village where everyone knows everyone else. Where you can walk into anyone's house, the door is always open. Where you can, in fact, run through people's houses during a game of hide-and-seek so you can hide in their barn. Where you can run a tab at the local convenience store. It wakes before the sun rises. Maids cook and clean and do laundry. Stray dogs roam the road. Mosquitoes and flies buzz around the air, spreading malaria. Somewhere between squalor and luxury is where I am right now.
At night, I can see the stars.
I could probably make some pretty creepy confections. Sugar is my art, and I did once make a cake shaped like a rat, with red eyes and blood on its teeth. Getting them across the country would be a challenge, though.
I am now in love with the Boo Berry Cake.
Me too. And the Pixie Truffles.
YAY for baby -t!!!
I don't remember my SAT scores, except they would have been higher if 1) I had paid more attention in school and 2) hadn't gone in and taken the test cold. And I had 200 + or so point difference between math and verbal that the guidance counselor commented on making me feel like a freak -- but I see most of the Buffistas were freaks like me. I think I scored 400 on the math.
Dang, P-C, that's some gorgeous stuff.
I am now in love with the Boo Berry Cake.
Me too. And the Pixie Truffles.
I want the Pixie Truffles and the Spooky Strawberry Cake. And the Vamp Cakes!
Faboulous smart/classy people help please?
I'm editing a letter a co-worker is writing to an official in Canada (where he is evidently trying to emigrate) and I don't know how he should phrase the greeting. The person to whom he is writing is named Robin . No indication if this person is male or female (so Dear Madame or Dear Sir would be inappropriate). But he is writing directly to this person (so To Whom it Concerns or Dear Sir or Madame would be inappropriate). And he should be fairly formal in his address (that is, Dear Robin would be inappropriate).
I don't know what to tell him to use! And I'm feeling a lot of pressure because he's appealing a decision they made about him not being an acceptable émigré because he has not demonstrate a sufficient command of English.
That's right! Congrats, -t!!
Congratulations, -t! There will be plenty of Buffista babies to take over the world now!
Various forms of warmth~ma to Deena, Plei, and Jen.
I *think* I ended up with a 1490 on my SATs, with verbal being higher than math. When I took the PSATs I did well enough to be named a National Merit Finalist. It was enough for a hell of a scholarship from my alma mater. Don't even ask what I scored on the LSATs. I just know it was good enough to get me into law school.
