I am currently sitting in my office wearing my winter coat.

That's a cold office.

Signed, Woman Who Has Been on Tamoxifen and Thought She Might Never Need a Coat Again

That's great about Mac.

Also very cute:

Fox Sends Text Message from Stolen Phone

Yay, Mac!

Yay, Mac!!!

It must be pantsless work day. I actually had to say these words to a student in the middle of class today:

"Are you seriously taking your pants off?"

Short answer: yes. Longer answer: He did indeed have shorts on under his pants, but I couldn't see them from where I was.

I am so oppressed by my be-pants-ified workplace.

YAY Mac!

Consueala, my Grandmother was adamant she did not want to go into assisted living EVER. And my Aunt Jo and Mom (and eventually her other sibs) worked hard to keep her at home. But eventually Aunt Jo started to have health problems from the stress and it became too much so they got her in an assisted living place. Grandma would call Aunt Jo dozens of times a day saying she was in a weird hospital and it was time for to leave and whatnot.

But it turned out to be the best thing for everyone. Aunt Jo got her life and health back, my Grandma flourished in a way no one thought would happen.

Prior to this Mom was all "I never want to be in a nursing home!" and after going through this experience she now wants a nice assisted living place where we can visit.

re: the Nevermore cast. This bit of the article made me snort out loud:

On a different note, this solves the mystery of that Neil Gaiman tweet from a few weeks back (“On the good side I was just sent a cast list with James McAvoy, Ben. Cumberbatch, Christopher Lee, Anthony Head and Bernard Cribbins on it.“) that had people wondering what project he could possibly be referring to. Which he didn’t tell us until now. Because he’s Neil Gaiman, and there’s something of the troll about him.

Time to dig out my Nevermore dvds.

Aw, Mac! msbelle, that's awesome. Good for both of you!

Both my parents had a horror of "the workhouse," which is what retirement homes and long-term care were called when they were children. They were indeed places of horror, where old people whose families couldn't afford to keep them were sent to languish with appalling levels of care until they died. We kept my dad at home for eight years. It was misery, and none of us were happy, though suffused with the self-approval of martyrdom. Had I known, he would have been in a clean, supervised environment, given his meds on a reliable schedule, fed a diet appropriate for his needs, and in a place where the stimulation of many other people would have kept him engaged and content. I still regret it.

Mom resisted for far too long, and finally, on advice of her doctor, she never came home from a bout in the hospital. She went to a convalescent center, and from there to a lovely care residence. She complained once about the staff being bossy to her. But she blossomed there. Everybody loved her. She'd always been such a flirt, and they responded to that, and she just relaxed into their care. It was such a change for her to smile when she saw me, rather than get out her list of things wrong with her life that I was to blame for, and my responsibility to fix.

May you have a similar outcome, 'Suela.

LOL linguist

Featuring Noam Chompsky.

Yay mac!

Cute foxes, cold offices, I am drinking oolong tea and trying to get myself to grade. oops.