December 2007

So I’m doing a Christmas cookie exchange with some friends.  Should be fun.  Right?  I WILL HAVE FUN.  MAKING COOKIES.

Highlights of the experience:

 – Clerk at Jewel tells me wax paper is the same thing as parchment paper.  Good thing I was skeptical.

– Start mixing, only to find I don’t have flour.  Thought I had flour.  Didn’t.

– The oven wouldn’t turn on.  The dial is broken.  I have to turn the screw thing with my hand, and guess at the temperature I’ve turned it to.

– I belatedly notice the recipe calls for “cooling racks”.  I don’t even know what these are.  I cool the cookies on plates.  (Lined up along the edge of the sink because there’s no counter space.)

– The first few cookies aren’t so much “cookies”, as bits of cooked dough hanging out around pools of melted chocolate.  The last batch of cookies aren’t so much “chocolate chip” as “chocolate uniformly diffused throughout because I left the batter on the stove while the first batch cooked, and the chips all melted.”

– After I turned off the oven?  It turned itself back on.  For real.  I turned the screw thing all the way to the left, I heard a sound like the oven turning off, and the glow went out.  Half an hour later I thought GOD it’s hot in the house.  I happened to look at the oven (because I’d left the oven door open) and the glow is on again. 

I had to leave for the cookie exchange, so I turned the screw thing all the way to the right, then all the way to the left again.  It turned off again.  I told B. I hoped he would get home soon, in case it turned on again.  Luckily it didn’t, but I don’t think I’ll quite trust it again.



I heard about this the other day, and I still can’t process it.  I am so angry.

But, following his admonition, I’m trying to focus on the positive.

If you’ve never read Pratchett, here is a complete (I think) list of his books.  Mort was the first one I read.  It’s a good one to start with, as it’s a standalone.

I had an awesome root canal today.

It was awesome because (1) it wasn’t an emergency root canal; (2) it was only one, not two; (3) it’s my second-to-last one; and (4) my endodontist rocks. 

I nearly fell asleep in the chair, I was so relaxed.  Partly it’s ’cause by now I trust my endodontist completely, and partly because I got that weird massive adrenaline rush at the beginning when he injected all the novocaine, and after it wore off I was super-sleepy. 

I don’t always get the adrenaline rush – I think it’s only when a lot of novocaine is used.  The left half of my face was so numb, I couldn’t feel my eye.

 Also, there was this paradoxical relaxing effect, because for some reason, he was going on and on about all these horrible, awful things that don’t pertain to me.  He was talking about some endometriosis drug that’s turning out to have a side effect where bone matter doesn’t heal post-surgery.  So it was bone sloughing zzzzz it just doesn’t heal properly zzzzzz necrosis zzzzzz so of course the lawyers are jumping all over this zzzzz oozing bone sore zzzzzz.

Afterwards, I felt weirdly elated, maybe because I don’t have oozing bone sores.  I stopped at a Cold Stone Creamery for an ice cream shake.  I couldn’t speak properly,  because my mouth muscles weren’t working yet, so I was trying not to say too much.  But the woman was so psyched about their new holiday flavors I felt I had to sample one, so I tried the eggnog ice cream. She watched my reaction excitedly.  Except I couldn’t quite manage the tiny little spoon with my crazy-frozen lips, and I was kind of fumbling around, and I had to turn away because I felt like Mr. Ed nom-nom-nom’ing a lump of sugar.  It was so embarassing. 

It was very good ice cream though.  I hope she believed me when I mumbled that, staring at the floor, hand over my mouth.

Well, I’m starting to feel my ear.  I hope it doesn’t hurt too much when the novocaine wears off.

I was perusing some lovely jewelry when I came across this:

The description says it’s a “pug/bulldog.”  A bulldog from Chiron Beta Prime, maybe. 

 Poor lassoed alien.  Untiiiieee meeeee!  Untiiiiieee meeeeee!

You know how a depressing song can lift your spirits because it’s true?  Like the blues? That’s how this song is. 

    Merry Christmas from Chiron Beta Prime

Found this page while looking for pictures of gerbils on Ferris wheels.

One eye-witness states:
“As a lad I lived in Weston-super-Mare. One day in the 1930s I went to the beach and saw a man trying to drive a huge wheel across the sands. It wasn’t very successful and wobbled about… I have always wondered what it was or whether I imagined it.” (BBC)
Not a very positive report.

I was reading some random forum, don’t remember how I found it, when I stumbled across this awesome phrase.

Epicurus’ Riddle does not factor in free will because God is willing and God is able but He gives you the ability to choose right from wrong, darkness from light but we don’t choose light most of the time. So He gave us a blueprint for how to know God-the Bible- and we don’t read it and we find ourselves asking these questions over and over not realizin we are like a gerbil on a ferris wheel and never getting anywhere.

We’re like a small creature on a gigantic structure that would be a symbol for fruitless endless endeavor, except that the wrong metaphor was used, and the structure is so freaking huge that we can’t actually begin the fruitless endless endeavor. So we perch on the edge of the ferris car, twitching our whiskers, wishing the person who came up with the misbegotten metaphor had gotten it right so we could at least run, even if it didn’t get us anywhere.