Amyth, much ~ma for your brother.

More ~ma for SuziQ's sister, Amyth's brother and for ND.

Javachick just cracked me up on Twitter.

It's cool enough outside that I opened some of the windows to try to get the hot air out of the house. Both wrists are in bad shape but I'm trying to force myself to do some unpacking or at least rearrangement of the post-moving piles. Having so many boxes in my bedroom was really depressing me and I've got enough to be depressed enough right now without that.

My dad arrived home today from his time helping my mom with probate and such. He may return there in a week or two. I like having him around but it's kind of nerve-wracking too because he gets angry at such unpredictable things.

Getting the word out about my album has been very hard, esp because so much of the last year has been about selling the house and moving. I haven't been able to get mags to even review it much. I can't afford ad rates for most mags/newspapers but I found a good niche mag that caters to people interested in vintage 1900 - 1940 so I'm buying an ad in that. A designer friend is helping me get the ad together. So I'm looking forward to that.

I'm also toying around with getting some silkscreened patches made in time for Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. Not sure if I'll go all the way through with that as I have very limited savings left. But if I do, I think I'm going to sew me a shirt to sew the patch onto.

According to my mother, this means spaghetti with ketchup, which her father liked. The cottage cheese and sour cream on noodles sounds like the best I can think of for that, too -- it would usually be those wide egg noodles. Again, my grandfather liked it.

Oh dear, ketchup. I told her I'd make her anything she wants...

I do realizer her forgetting things is the reason I'm here, and I'll use it to take care of her (see re: Laundry Ninja), but I really don't want to exploit her memory issues...

Unless it gets me laid.

I am a bad friend. A musician friend was playing at a gallery/music/performance art thing. We were standing on concrete in 85 degree/80% humidity weather waiting for him to go on, but one band of moderate talent played roughly forever, then the gallery owner asked some people to tell stories about how they met, then a person read poetry, then another person started reading poetry, and I fled for the temptingly nearby exit.

You are a good friend. I'd have fled at "then the gallery owner asked some people to tell stories about how they met" and never looked back.

Ginger, insent (or there will be shortly)

I'd rather have no biscuit than heatstroke.

OK, so one of my old professors sends me a million e-mails a year of "jokes" and stuff. For whatever reason, I don't feel the need to confront him and ask him to stop. I have a filter that just pushes them into a folder, and every once in a while, I read through them some. Occasionally, one is funny. I laughed at this one:

A teacher is explaining biology to her 4th grade students. 'Human beings are the only animals that stutter,' she says.

A little girl raises her hand. 'I had a kitty-cat who stuttered.' The teacher, knowing how precious some of these stories could become, asked the girl to describe the incident.

'Well', she began, 'I was in the back yard with my kitty and the Rottweiler that lives next door got a running start and before we knew it, he jumped over the fence into our yard!' 'That must've been scary,' said the teacher. 'It sure was,' said the little girl. 'My kitty raised her back, went Sssss,Sssss, Sssss' and before she could say 'Shit!', the Rottweiler ate her! The teacher had to leave the room.

Shit! BWahahahaahah!