He called to tell me he had a really nice day, there is a literature thing going on in Oxford and he'd just come back from some sort of thing with Derek Landy and got to hear him talk about Skullduggery Pleasant.

I'm reminded of the moment in a Bill Cosby routine where he describes his wife's face splitting open and shooting lasers from her eyes.

OMG Sparky. Out-of-town parents of toddlers should not be allowed to report that kind of thing.

Skirts require tights. Way more complicated. Went with pants.

Driving was not a good idea, but no harm, no foul.

Have extra food.

And, man, talking about co-workers commenting on your food, or checkout staff making conversation, why is random supermarket woman talking to me about bread that's not even for sale at that store, and how we should live a little. Beeyotch, I'm leaving here with two sorts of bread, and I haven't yet finished the one at home. If that's living, I do it a lot.

long skirts require tights? long flowy skirts.

This is from the LA Times, so you know not peer reviewed or anything. But one estimate of the cost to end world hunger permanently is 300 billion in total investment, spread over ten years so as to make the investments at a sustainable rate that could be absorbed by the economies where the poorest of people live. Probably could be done faster at a higher cost.

While 300 times the size of the investment foaf suggested, that is still surprisingly small compared to the size of the total world economy. [link]

Guess who had fresh local asparagus for dinner tonight? YUM. The skinny kind because the fatter stuff won't be good until later. And I still have another bunch.

House is clean. Also tackled the disaster that was my coffee table: threw everything into a box. Relocated a couple of nice basket/dish things to the table. Took item out of box. Found a home for it (mostly not ON the table.)

We'll see how well I can maintain this.

long skirts require tights? long flowy skirts

I'm cold, man. In this weather, always tights under my skirts.

Man, I forgot ice cream.

I *really* want ice cream. Pisser.

That article I wrote for a local advertiser supported weekly that I linked March 7. main: [link] sidebar: [link] Well, in today's mail was a check from them for the story. What a concept, you do work for someone, and they pay for it in good old fashioned money you can spend on anything you want. They just shot way above Grist as a place to submit articles to for me. Grist pays in prestige and verbal abuse in the comments.

We call this game "Bubba vs the cube"

(aka, there's a reason I decided to call him Bubba.)

I think I am in love with Bubba.