85% is too dark for me. Once you pass 70%, my bitter-receptors start objecting.

90% causes me to muahahahahaahahahah.

There is a Stephen Crane poem that puts me in mind of how I feel about really, really dark chocolate:

..."It is bitter -- bitter," he answered;

"But I like it

Because it is bitter,

And because it is my heart."

Thank you, all! I had a nice birthday. Went to a travelogue of Hawaii with my dad. I've decided to start my own bucket list after seeing pictures of a sunrise from the top of Mt. Haleakela. Wow. That is definitely something I would love to see for myself.

Because it is bitter, And because it is my heart."

Joyce Carol Oates used this as a book title, btw.

I was trying to think of that, David, as soon as I saw it! You saved me from using valuable google-fu.

Sail, happy, happy birthday to you!!

My mom regifted me with a lotion sampler from B&BW, and I am strategically placing them around the house, along with various lip balms.

I will NOT be chapped and hangnail this winter, I SWEAR. One pair on bed table, on on living room table, one in car, and one on computer table. Plus the Big Ass Guns in the bathroom -- Neutrogena Scentless Body Oil to be mixed with salt, and Johnson's Lavender Baby Oil Gel for non scrubby days.

My face looks great for my age, but I am noticing my hands and legs are starting to look a little....hrm, pre-grandma? if I am not careful.

My ass, of course, will be silken upon my death bed. I may have a sunny-side up open casket. "FEEL MY ASS! TOUCH EEEEEET!" Then burn it, and drink copiously.

These are my official funeral instructions, btw.

My ass, of course, will be silken upon my death bed.

But of course!

I may have a sunny-side up open casket. "FEEL MY ASS! TOUCH EEEEEET!"

With pleasure!

Then burn it, and drink copiously.

Salut!

Ugh. Stressful day. But I handled it better than I have been lately -- when I got an email from someone pretty much telling me that I'd screwed up (and yes, I already knew that, thank you), I only got really anxious for a minute or two, then sent an email back apologizing and telling when I'd get the stuff fixed, and then sat down and fixed it. (Well, not all of it. But enough of it for today, and I can finish tomorrow.)

And then there was something else I screwed up, too, which is more about myself than about other people, so it wasn't something I could apologize to anyone for, but I did start trying to fix it.

And now I'm making spaghetti. Because two screw-ups in one day in an already really stressful month calls for comfort food, even if it is at one in the morning when I should be asleep so that I can get up to teach at 8 tomorrow.

Here's an oddity. Kentucky and Tennessee have been as much bellwether states as Ohio; the last time they went against the winning candidate was when they voted for Nixon in 1960. (I think they're planning to break new ground at this election.) The last President to win only one of these three states was Taft.

Sigh. Once again, screwed up sleep schedule, and wide awake at 2 in the morning.

For some reason that I can't quite explain, I'm reading Vachel Lindsay tonight. Just seemed like the right poet for my mood. And google tells me that a recording exists of him reading The Congo, but it doesn't seem to be online anywhere.

Steph and sj and Deena and whoever needs ~ma or feel better! wishes, there it is. There's too much information to my brain in Buffistas at the moment, and I'm kindda behind in Natter, so I'm not even peeking there.

I'm sick. Sick, sick, sick. And it would have been fine, if I could only pull it to Yom Kippur and the weekend following that. But I have to work. Like, not have to have to, but since it's holiday over the next week as well, I'm not gonna work a lot this month as is, and I know I'm expected to, and it will mess with my days off, which I planned already. So I just need to go through the next 36 hours without too much sickness. Unfortunately, it also means I can't be visiting today one of my dying relatives - I don't want to infect him with anything, so I hope he'll make it through the holidays.

Made myself pancake for breakfast. Now need to work, and pray for enough strength to work a hell lot today and also go out to bring some groceries. I really need the 36 hours delay on this, so I'm taking what I can.

And, to end this with as much possible shininess: Happy birthday, Sail!

Sending gentle soothe-the-fellow-mathematician~ma waves out for you, Hil. May you sleep restfully but not too long when you get there.

And just because it needs saying now and again: We love you an awful lot, you know.