I've been cranky, up and down, the past few days. I didn't see much point in sharing that with y'all. It would have been monotonous, and who needs that? Certainly none of you lovely people.

          The weekend was a bit wretched. I got floored by some kind of allergy/sinus thing Friday afternoon and most of Saturday. Sunday, I still felt like I had been run over by a train. Ugh. I didn't do a single productive thing over the holiday weekend, and I spent most of it wallowing in self-pity in front of the TV. I'm now hopelessly hooked on Ground Force and Changing Rooms following a marathon on BBC America...
          I tried to do some writing - any writing, but was totally apathetic. I churned out about six sentences on the Network 23 project, and aggressively ignored SteinCorp all weekend - to my detriment, I'm sure. Any journal entry would have been quite the ray of gloom, I'm sure.

          The car is running - yay - although Alex and I are both too scared to take it further than in town. Particularly with the speedometer cable making that funny noise - the mechanic assures us it's not a sign of the engine falling apart... However, there is some damn hose that is falling apart, and causing the car to drink power steering fluid like it was Gatorade. I tell ya, if it's not one thing, it's another. Alex and I have agreed that, once we get past this credit card thing - we'll know at mid-month how that is going to play out - we're going to save like misers towards getting a better car. Maybe not a new car, but certainly a better one. We're getting better at resisting the urge to buy shiny things, so maybe we will make it.
          Actually, I'm just a tiny bit proud of how we have coped so far. Sure, we're flat broke, but we've managed to bounce back from each crisis just in time to have enough cash for the next crisis. Admittedly, we've had help from my parents, Alex's dad and the IRS but, dammit, we've survived the worst of it! I hope. That credit card thing is still doing a Damocles turn over our heads, and I don't like it one little bit. We can only scrape up $1500, instead of the $3K that was tentatively offered. But I think even that will keep them off our backs for another month, and maybe by then, we can establish a payment plan...It'll probably bleed us dry until Christmas, but I would gladly face mac-and-cheese for a few months and be done, done, done with it all.

          It's not pride that has me balking at taking a loan from friends. It's laziness. Oh, I suppose there's some pride mingled in it, but the fact is I just hate the bother of remembering to repay a loan. Even with automatic payment from my bank account, it's still a bloody hassle to have to account for these things in the family budget. It's hassle enough I've got a landlord who can sometimes wait up to ten days before depositing my rent check. I don't need to be counting on my fingers and toes trying to figure out what else should be clearing/paid/accounted for. I'm much happier just paying for anything in a lump sum. Still, I suppose my laziness has saved me a small fortune in interest... God help me when Alex and I are finally go mortgage hunting. I will no doubt have to be heavily sedated just to sign the papers.

Sewing Musings
          I've been taking a break. I'm resting up for what will no doubt be a few nights of panicked activity as I desperately take one last go at the B5 uniforms...

Gaming Musings
          Let's see...Lost two players for SteinCorp, which takes care of the double-casting of roles. Now I've lost a third - and one who was a key character, to boot. This is a problem. Damn, damn, damn. Still, I'm glad I thought to send out a 'reminder' e-mail to the list. It seems some players had forgotten. I don't blame them, really. But this game will happen next week, damn it all!

          CAST chugs along with no more than the usual hiccups. One player isn't happy about the level of effort required to maintain contacts, but...to heck with him. The GM has made it clear that the current state of affairs - whereby a PC has to take at least some action during downtime to ensure that their contact is happy and cooperative - is exactly how he wants it to be. I'm just hoping that Gaiser doesn't cave in to greasing the squeaky wheel. Frank opinions have been exchanged on the game's online forum and he's not commented, yet, but that probably means he just hasn't been by in a couple of days. Gaiser is a good guy but, like many GMs, he wants to keep all of the players happy, all of the time, and that's impossible.
          Patricia has resigned herself to being bored for the meantime. Until she gets enough numbers on her character sheet to be able to get away with breaking the rules...well, she's going to have to keep to them... She's not liking it though, poor lass. Sociopathic sadists very much believe that rules are for other people...

***

          No word from the bank. I'm sure I'll know when they call - thirty seconds of laughter and then a click as the phone is hung up will no doubt be them. Nope, I'm not optimistic. *sigh*. But a friend has made mention of co-signing for the loan, which is an option Alex and I might consider. At this point, stubborn pride might have to submit to financial reality. Ducking a loan could cost us an extra thousand (or more) on the debt, so I guess I've just figured out how much it takes to silence one of the little voices in my head. Just goes to show: everyone has their price, and it's not as high as you might think...

          The weekend was very enjoyable, very relaxing. Alex and I agreed to ignore the Voice of Worry and we went to Faire with James and Dave on Saturday. We were a mixed-bag group: a peasant wench and three nobles - one English, one Spanish and one... well, Dave was just Dave. Alex described him as a noble of a 7th Sea race, the Einish . I figured I could just tell curious onlookers that I offered a group discount. There's a reason my peasant gear includes so much green, y'know...
          The Faire was far more crowded that it had been on opening weekend, and we had a jolly time tramping around, meeting some of James' buddies. James was a part of court last year, so there were quite of few of those buddies to be met. I even ran into a guy I knew at DVC and hadn't seen for something like eight years. Peter and I didn't have much time to catch up, but he's a constable, so I'm sure I can find him at my next visit. Alex and I even ran into some people who were a part of Evil At Bay at DunDraCon a few years back. Small world... The best run-in had to be with Shaunna, though, who I must drop a line to one of these days. I miss her and the Rich crew quite a bit and now that I don't game with them any more, I never see them, dammit!
          Incidentally, a friend of James' offered me a taste of home-made mandarin orange liqueur, which has solidified my resolve to start making the stuff at home - it was nummers! The brewer - I forget her name, but she was a well-mannered lady at a booth selling barrettes and chignons - had a few useful tips to share as well, and for that I'm grateful... I'll probably get started on this little project at the end of the month, if I can afford to buy supplies. It's a relatively cheap hobby, but I don't have any money to burn right now. Not even for booze!
          Final Faire note: I am now part of the mad fannish throng dedicated to Broon and MooNie - performers/drinking buddies at various Faires across the nation. Watching two half-intoxicated dudes eating fire on a windy day was quite a spectacle. They usually perform separately, you see, but they always team up for the end-of-day show, and by then, they've had a few drinks, and they get some weird ideas and, well, I think most of the audience is showing up time-after-time to be there when one of the performers finally sets the tree o'erhanging the shared-stage on fire... Never try to make a fire-eater laugh - the idea of making flames come out of his nose might sound hilarious, but he's not going to appreciate it... No, that didn't happen, but it got awful close.

          Speaking (er, writing) of booze, I think I've developed an allergy to hops. No, really! A week ago last Friday, I had a really nasty allergy attack/sinus infection/something nasty to do with my head suddenly producing far too great a volume of nasty fluids ands generally aching. I had shrugged it off as an allergy attack and gone on with life. The following Friday, it happened again, albeit with less severity. Aching head, scratchy throat, sneezures. WTF? Thinks I, Am I allergic to Friday afternoons? Maybe it's something in the office that I react to after a few days' exposure? A recurrent sinus infection? I had no idea... Today, on the train going to work, my sinuses are aching and my throat is a bit scratchy - all of this after being totally trouble-free all through a dusty-day at Faire. Hmmm....
          Thinks: What did all three of these days have in common? Answer: I had beer the day before. I know, it's a long shot, but it's the only thing I can think of. The night before the first Friday incidence, I had hoisted a beer or two with dinner (as I recall). The following Thursday night was card-night at Beyer's place, and I had several beers then - one too many, to be honest. Last night, I had the obligatory post-game pale ale with the gang at Pickwick's. Hmmm... Given that it never hurts one to cut down on the booze, I think I'm going to cut beer out of my diet and see what happens. I really hope it's not alcohol, period, as it's gonna suck much to have to give that up. Yes, yes, I know I will have to quit tippling once I become preggers, but that's a good-enough reason to overcome any crankies that might result. Getting the sniffles hardly seems like an adequate reason for punting beer...

          To my intense surprise, I went to bed early Saturday and Sunday nights. I managed to rack up nearly eleven hours of sleep Saturday night - I was pooped when I got home from Faire - and nine hours last night. Of course, both evenings, my body woke up after six hours of sleep - my usual ration - and told me it was time to get up. As did the cat, go figure. I wouldn't want to make a habit of sleeping so much every night - I've got little enough time for projects as it is - but it was nice to have a lot of time to dream. My subconscious has been taking the opportunity to do a bit of serious cleaning up and I've found the results alternately disquieting and entertaining. I don't know what to make of that dream about being one of my characters in a recently-nuked Seattle... The answer is most likely: don't make anything of it... I would jot it down for my defunct-dream journal, but I just don't have the time for recording dreams any more - not in the detail I would like, at least. *sigh*

Sewing Musings
          I'm not gonna make it. I'll try, starting tonight, but I don't think I'm going to get an EA uniform together by Saturday. Shit. I really wanted to, to, but I got demoralized and quit for a while, and Faire distracted me and... well, you know how it is. I've got the fabric, and I'll see how quickly I can cut-and-fuse tonight...but I'm not too cheerful about the prospects. Finishing Casey's costume and Kasi's robe are more important...

Gaming Musings
          CAST was on Sunday, and I think it went well. Alex has ironed most of the bugs out of the logistics system, and only two people still had things missing on their sheets. I think Miranda was a bit surprised that we asked (er, demanded) that she hand over a character sheet for her NPC, but Alex and I are holding to the rule of If you don't have a character sheet - PC or NPC - all actions against you automatically succeed. We've discovered that that policy quickly produces character sheets out of thin air...

          Logistics aside, I think the game went well. Characters exchanged the rumors that Alex and I had written, which was an enheartening sign. Yesterday was the first time I can remember players actually consulting their rumor-sheet and comparing notes for corroboration. The energy level was up, too - helped, I think, by some new faces and some grievous fuckups by old and new characters. Mental note: kiddies, when you're playing a neonate being presented to the Prince, know The Traditions. Some plots are also starting to heat up, and I think the players are getting a bit more enthusiastic about what's going on.
          There was a lot of good roleplaying. Jennifer played her Ventrue true to form and didn't go to pieces when the inevitable chaos broke out. Aaron's Brujah, Bone, was very true to type - and relatively subtle - the player of Sid was a very good sport as his character fucked-up and got the shit knocked out of him again. Ryan, as usual, was a prevaricating tap-dancer and Shannon continues to try to get Marie into the right head-space for her inevitable departure from the chronicle. All in all, a better-than-average day for the roleplayers, I think.
          I feel bad that not everyone could win the "Player Nomination XP" at the end of the game - everyone casts two votes, the top three vote-winners get an XP... Alex always wins a Nom - usually for his 'Alex Moment' at the game, when Christian gets to lay the smack down on some player-character. It's great fun to watch, but it's getting a bit predictable - in terms of performance and award. I don't dare ask Alex to remove Christian for a game - like it or not, he's a driving force that keeps things ticking over in court - but maybe if he bowed out of Noms (and perhaps I should do the same, I think I've won three times out of the last five) perhaps some others will get some much-deserved recognition.

          As for me and my good time. Well, it seems I've become enthralled to a hat. Not just any hat, but a brown wool-felt cloche-styled hat. I bought this hat a couple of years ago because it was adorable and I like wearing hats. This hat then sat in the closet because I belatedly realized that I didn't have any outfits that accessorized well with light-brown felt. A few months ago, I bought a forest-green 'going to interviews' suit. It's a basic knee-length sheath dress and a matching jacket that is almost as long, with lots of little buttons up the front. Trust me, it was very stylish, um, last year. Lo and behold, the hat matches the suit quite nicely. It looks a little 'Madeline Becomes An English Teacher" but cute. Everyone needs a cute outfit, right?
          But this hat has an evil side. It's my fault, really. I decided to play with contrapuntal tension and I wore the above outfit to a CAST game a few weeks ago. I decided that it would be deeply creepy for this cutely-outfitted woman - Trish - to be chirpily talking about torture and vivisection. The idea worked like a charm - if player-reaction was an accurate gauge - and I the hat was immediately dubbed "The Hat of Evil". It wasn't just the suit, it had to be the suit and the hat for people to be creeped out... Oookay, whatever...
          So, I donned the outfit again, yesterday. The premise of the game required that the characters be a bit dressy, and I couldn't find anything to do with my Edwardian walking skirt. See, I'm trying to get away from black velvet and PVC for vampire characters, just for a change - so it was back to the "Schoolmarm Gone Mad" outfit, as I am told it is known. For various reasons, I wanted to play Patricia as a bit kittenish on Sunday. Sweetness and light and hardly a nasty glint in her eye at all. The group has had a lot of 'eager-beaver let's-cut-'em-up Trish' and I wanted a change. Y'know, just to keep the players on their toes.
          Fat chance. The hat had other ideas. Patricia manifested as sulky, irritable and, if I hadn't known better, I would have thought she was back on the smack again - all heavily lidded eyes and laconic behavior. Add into the mix that I had (finally) found my old straight razor and was casually fiddling with it the entire game and, well, the result was far from kittenish. I swear, it wasn't me, it was the hat! Y'know how Yamara had the Helm of Reverse Alignment? I think I've just found my equivalent.
          I'm a bit disappointed, though. It was fun to creep out the players. It always is, and they always seem much easier to frighten than I anticipate - was licking the razor during the court meeting that disturbing? (Um, it's a blunt razor, by the way...) Anyways. I would like to play Trish as a subtly scary character but it seems that my own urge to show off, plus the gamer-weakness for shticks (my own weakness for doing 'em, and everyone else's susceptibility to reacting to 'em) and - let's not forget - The Hat, seems to guarantee that I'll never be any less subtle than, oh, a chainsaw-wielding maniac. Drat.
          Oh, I'm still having fun with the character - I doubt I'll ever really tire of Trish - but I'm annoyed at myself for going for the 'easy scare' with the razor and the giveaway mannerisms, rather than reaching for something more creative, more discreet. Then again, these are gamers I'm talking about and it's not like I'm trying to go for an Academy Award with my performance or anything. And, to be horribly catty, a subtle performance would go flying right over their heads, so why bother?
          But I do have to get some long-term goals together for Patricia. Just reacting to the court and occasionally kicking people when they're down does not a long-term character make. I'm sure something will come up and acting in a sort of co-plotting capacity with Mike might help that along. Or hinder it completely. I'm not sure.

***

          So, I wake up at 6:30AM, as usual. I was having an interestingly surreal dream and wondering if I could get back to it once Alex shut off the alarm and I could go back to sleep. I had had a good night's rest, but I wanted to squeeze out just a few more minutes of it.
          Huh? Whazzat on the radio? A plane hit the World Trade Center? Two planes? Wow, I sure do mishear stuff right after I wake up...Wait, Alex heard that, too. Oh shit.

          Five minutes later, I've got CNN on the tube - my apologies to neighbors who saw me in my altogether in through my living room window - and watching what looked like the beginning of the end of the world... I tried to hang on to my Euro-cynic 'tude - oh, you Americans are still so unused to real terrorism. That lasted for, oh, a full seven seconds once the TV had been turned on.
          Alex was feeling twitchy - a by-product of that military career - and he asked me to stay home. I called my boss - who sounded kind of pissed to hear I was going to stay home because of something nasty happening in New York - and then the reports started coming in. The Pentagon. Philadelphia. A jet flying over the White House... Y'know, given the choice between a happy boss and a happy husband... well, it wasn't much of a choice. San Francisco might not have been such a choice target to a pack of murderers, but it had to be considered... Perhaps in light of what happened after I called my boss, he became a little more sympathetic to my staying out of town for the day. Heck, Alex was right on the verge of climbing into the car and just driving straight into the Central Valley for a few days...

          I was watching CNN when the towers collapsed. I just felt numb. This happens in Tom Clancy books, in action movies, not in the real world. It's just a visual miscue, right? That's just more smoke coming up from the north tower, isn't it? Oh god, it's gone. It's really gone... The usual 'not in America!' sentiments were there too - stupidly enough - along ' with the slightly hysterical notion that picture-postcards of the old New York skyline had just quadrupled in value.
          I just re-read that. The old New York skyline.  Ouch.
          For one moment, I wanted to burst into tears and shriek at the television. But that wouldn't have helped anyone, so I just pushed those feelings away and kept watching. I'm not big on cathartic moments of tragedy. Maybe it's my loss, but I'm not inclined to believe that.
          So, like most of the country, I just dumbly watched the TV for most of the morning. Watched increasingly insane reports like a car bomb outside the State Department, of a plane going down on Camp David. Thank fortune for CNN - which squashed most of the unsubstantiated reports as soon as they came in. The last thing that was needed was inaccuracies. I heard everything from a hijacked plane heading to Seattle, to a massive car bomb found inside the Lincoln Tunnel...  

          My friend Adam is in China and he had no real-time news, so I was madly relaying details from CNN to him via an Instant Message window - as were several of his friends, I know. He left me his phone number and asked that I call him if we declare war on anyone - because he sure as hell wasn't going to find that out from the Chinese media. Welcome to a police state, have a nice day...

          James pinged me at eleven, offering to pick me up for lunch and a trip to the blood bank. Lunch was a much-needed change of scene, but the blood bank was a madhouse. They could process eight people and hour. There were about 200 lining up outside. We toughed it out for four hours, but we had to go before we could donate. Dave needed to be taken home from the hospital - he's just been fitted with an insulin pump for his diabetes and the adjustment period is merry hell - and I knew Alex was going to be home soon. Besides, I can't really give blood - anyone who has been in England for more than six months between 1980 and 1996 is ineligible. I was sorely tempted to lie, but I'm glad I didn't have to - ultimately...
          The sentiments at the blood bank were about as could be expected. Confusion, anger and a desire to get someone. I noticed that my remarks that whichever bastards were responsible for this were no doubt holed up in a city full of innocent civilians to protect themselves from retaliation didn't go down terribly well. I was surprised that anyone else was surprised to hear this. The perps of these crimes are terrorists - by definition, they don't care about innocent lives...
          The boredom at the blood bank got rather oppressive - although James had the bright idea to buy a couple of decks of cards (one of which he gave to two very bored little girls) and we played everything from Go Fish to Gin Rummy. At one point, James tried to make a light hearted comment of "Well, there are worse ways to spend the afternoon" and my nasty irony gland kicked in and I said "Yeah, buried under a hundred stories of rubble comes to mind". I'm surprised lightening didn't strike me down for that one but, well, I guess a few inapt comments can be forgiven on a day like this.

          I'm worried. The politicos and pundits are talking about justice - of course, there is a need for justice. But the unspoken double-meaning of that word, every time I hear it, is revenge. An attack like this can't help but activate our primal hindbrains and the urge to find whoever is responsible and hurt them, just like they have hurt us. Hurt them, hurt their friends, hurt everyone associated with them. Tell me otherwise, and I'll call you a deluded fool.
          And there's no way this need for revenge can be fulfilled without more innocent people being killed. Given the current administration (targeting the most execution-happy administrator of the past century is hardly a wise choice, Mr. Terrorist) and the precedent set by the Gulf War (oh c'mon, you knew we killed tens of thousands of civilians in that one, right?) and Kosovo (ditto) well... I don't like it. I like terrorism even less, but it's just one of those moments when I wish for...something - decent CIA intelligence, a magic death ray (whichever, both seem equally unlikely at this point) that would just target the guilty, reduce them to a fine red mist, and leave everyone else unharmed.
          Whoa, I guess we've just seen what makes Johanna go back on her 'no death penalty' point of view. Sigh. As said before...everyone has their price. At least it was high.
          I don't believe in a traditional god. I don't believe prayers are going to help anyone but those who are praying. Pure thoughts will get us nowhere. I can't give blood, but I can find a few bucks - even in my cash-strapped-state - to give to the Red Cross. Or I can go through my closet and finally give away those nice clothes that I know dam' well I won't fit into again - for whatever good that would do. Heck, I've even got some toys and stuffed animals that can be given away - although I'm ludicrously sentimental about most of them... A silly time for sentiment, I suppose. But what else have I got?

          If you haven't already given blood, call your local blood bank and make an appointment to do so. 1 800 GIVE LIFE.

***

          Perhaps I'm not as immune to cathartic wallowing as I had believed. I spent most of last night and this morning reading other journals, watching CNN interview witnesses, just kind of roaming the net for other people's reactions.
          There's a constant refrain that worries me: "We'll be at war before the week is out", "This is the start of World War Three" "Who are we going to carpet bomb for this?" See what I mean about the impulse for vengeance?
          More worrying than an angry urge for revenge is the incipient hysteria. If enough people say that the sky is falling, well... It becomes increasingly difficult to remain reasonable.

          Perhaps it's a stupid thing to say, but I have some faith in the Powers That Be - the nameless senior military and federal executives, more so than the rotating vote-grubbers who are far more easily swayed by public opinion. The United States is - for good or ill - the keeper of the moral high ground, particularly when it comes to making war. Just because we've got all those nukes doesn't mean we're going to use them. I don't understand why we needed them in the first place, but that'll be the subject of another journal entry, another day...
          I've read history, I've read about military philosophy, I've listened to the pundits, the analysts, the decision-makers. Short of a biological attack by a foreign entity (terrorist or otherwise), we're not about to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of nuclear war. Why? Because we're the good guys. Because if America stoops to the level of mass-destruction for revenge, then school is out for all of the nuclear powers. India would go after Pakistan for a border violation. Israel would go after...well, hell, pick one - no doubt the Palestinians are at the top of their list, this week... It's a string of dominos, and the first one in the row has stars and stripes painted on it.
          But Johanna! You cry, You can't be sure!. You're right, I can't. That's where the faith kicks in. Meanwhile, the hysteria aggravates me and makes me want to run around waving my arms and yelling "Just stay calm for a minute, willya?" But I know how totally unreasonable that request is.
          Damn, I'm just glad anti-Muslim lynch mobs haven't started roaming the streets. Yet.

          Going to sleep last night was tough. I was afraid of what I would hear on the radio this morning. Would it be life trying to return to normal, or would some fresh horror have been unleashed? I have since read online that I wasn't the only one with that worry - far from it.
          My own family was worried about intelligent terrorists with unpleasant backup plans involving germ warfare, or the west coast water supply and I can't say I blamed them. In fact, I ended up agreeing with that sentiment. At ten o'clock last night, Alex and I decided to drop by the grocery store and pick up a few things - ten gallons of water, a few days' worth of canned food, extra pet food, that sort of thing. Of course, that little action just made me realize how inadequately we're prepared for a disaster, but at least we've taken one step in the right direction.
          I actually managed to sleep reasonably well, with only one dream recalling the day's events. I'm glad about that. I have a horribly overactive imagination at times, and the sight of the collapsing towers of the World Trade Center was fine fodder for it, damn it all. See, I've got a bit of a thing about not wanting to be in tall buildings in an earthquake zone, as it is - don't ask me how I ended up in San Francisco. Watching people jump out of their windows shortly before the WTC structure crumpled does not keep my mind off those sort of thoughts. I anticipated a full screening of one of my patented is it live or is it Memorex nightmares during the evening, but I guess it was too much on my conscious mind for the unconscious to get into the act. I'm grateful for these small mercies. Tonight, however, I don't know if I'm going to be so lucky.
 
          If you haven't already given blood, call your local blood bank and make an appointment to do so. The Red Cross is going to need donors for weeks. Call 1 800 GIVE LIFE to find the donation center nearest you. Then go home and hug somebody.

***

          The anger is starting to seep in, now, although it's battling with the ongoing urge to burst into tears every ten minutes. The teary-inclination I can deal with - I just need to take a break from CNN, MSNBC et al. All the tragic stories just erode at one's psyche after a while. I think Liz put it best - the emotional batteries aren't just dead, they're melted down. Well...I'm not that worn-out yet, but I can see it happening, and the last thing this planet needs is a weepy, oversensitive Johanna. It's ugly, trust me.
          So, that leaves room for anger. This is not an improvement. A furious Johanna is also an unpleasant thing to deal with, particularly one who is trying to learn how to better handle her temper. The Temper Bear is jumping up and down and saying "This is not a time for self-restraint! C'mon, you can let me out of this cage just for a little while! It'll be okay, everyone else is doing it! Ow! What's with the rolled up newspaper?". It's been like that all morning. Blasted Temper Bear.

          I've been reading people's journals and feeling reassured... No-one wants to go to war with an enemy we can't quite name. No-one seems to keen on 'no-mercy' accountability either. Imagine if turned out if, say, an Egyptian bunch of Islamic whackos were behind this one? Will the United States be quite so keen to bomb Egypt into rubble? It's easy to hate an outfit like the Taliban but - and I'll admit this is unlikely - but what if it turns out that they are telling the truth? The Temper Bear says: "I hope they aren't." but he's saying it very quietly - I've got the entire Sunday edition of The Times rolled up right here...
          Anyways, so my fellow journal-keepers - humane being that they are - don't seem to keen on the idea of bombing anyone into rubble. And I breathe a little sigh of relief. "Alright, people seem to be keeping their Temper Bears under control, too. Phew. There's hope for us, yet." Then I hear how everyone else - you know, the majority - seems to be reacting. Shannon tells me that a small horde of flag-waving bikers have been cruising outside the local mosque/Islamic community center, looking for trouble. A lapsed-Muslim friend of mine (long story, and I'm not going to name him, anyways) tells me he had to listen to his coworkers talk about the desirability of rounding up all local Muslims and using them for chemical weapons practice. My friend is Caucasian, you see, so his co-worker probably had no idea that his remarks would meet with less than sterling approval. Today's paper carried a picture of an Antioch woman's garage door bearing the sign "Find 'em. Nuke 'em. Make them pay!".
          Oh shit. My fellow man is going to let me down, isn't he?
          The nationalistic fervor is warming up, and that always worries me. There is nothing wrong with nationalism or patriotism, as long as it is accompanied by intelligence and a hint of rationale. It's when nationalism is pushed to an unthinking, emotionalist extreme that the potential for disaster looms... I'm sure those Americans who rounded up fellow citizens and placed them in internment camps were very patriotic. So were the National Socialists for that matter, but I shan't get too far into that particular metaphor. They're extreme examples, yes, but it can't be denied that mankind has set many precedents for doing awful things in the name of nationalism.
          Display your flag today. Tie red, white and blue ribbons to your car. Make whatever gesture the e-mails of the moment seem to be urging. That's fine and dandy by me. I just hope that everyone is thinking while they do it - thinking of something other than revenge.

          I managed to work myself into a dither, last night. I had called Jennifer to bum a large wad of cash from her (for which Alex and I are profoundly grateful) and, inevitably, we got to talking about what form terrorism will take next. Make it impossible to seize a plane, and they'll just do something else. Visions of anthrax and other assorted nasties  in the water supply danced in my head. I blithely told Jennifer that such an attack wasn't viable - the risk of the perps killing themselves during 'pre-production' (so to speak) was far too high. Also, biological/chemical attack is one of those things that will have the President reaching for that steel briefcase handcuffed to somebody's wrist... Even mad-mullah maniacs would realize the risk/benefit ratio wasn't good enough. I trotted all this out, sounding as reasonably confident as anyone in my shoes would (ie, not very). Then I got off the phone and started really worrying.
          I hear New Zealand is an awfully nice place to live. I think I would be much happier raising kids in New Zealand. Or maybe Scotland... Alex likes Scotland...

          Yesterday, a friend of mine asked me a question that I thought was singularly inappropriate. Do you feel like an American, yet? I know I've gone off about occasionally feeling disassociated from this country, so I can understand, sort of, why he was asking me that. I'm not sure how he took my answer, though - the entire exchange being via Instant Messenger. I told him that I believed that any answer that I gave to that question would be considered wrong, so I wasn't going to answer it. I mean, really... I say 'yes', I'll hear "Oh my god, it took five thousand dead to get you off the fence?" If I say 'no', I'll get "Oh my god, what does it take to get you off the fence?" - damned if I do... Besides, that's a hell of a personal question to be asking a person at the best of times, never mind in the shadow of the past three days.
          But Alex and I talked about my citizenship application and agreed that, once we're back on slightly firmer financial footing, it's time to get that back on track. Anti-immigrant feeling in this country is going to get worse before it gets better.

          If you haven't already given blood, call your local blood bank and make an appointment to do so. They're going to need donors for weeks. 1 800 GIVE LIFE.

***

          This was sent to a friend of mine - name removed - by a friend of hers in Argentina - it refers in passing to that editorial "America, the Good Neighbor" that is making the rounds, again:
          ...this is not a different point of view. It is a point of view that begs the question: WHY do people not appreciate American help? Is there anything in the WAY they offer their help that makes them odious to others in spite of the helping hand they are stretching?
Other nations go to the US because they have no choice, not because they want to. At the same time, a lot of the money that ma and pa send their dodger son in Canada (who, by the way, is dodging because most of the time he doesn't feel like dying for something he has no decision over and most of the time doesn't have anything to do with his country) they can make in the US because of the prosperity there, a leg of which stands on the profit they make in other countries. The US does not have the exclusive on leeching; most European countries that can afford to do it too. However, the US is the most BLATANT. That's all. It is all about feeling: there has to be a reason every country on earth has problems with Americans to a greater or lesser extent.
          We saw the people dancing on the streets of the Ghaza Strip, and I thought "What a shame", but in some part of my brain I knew that, although you would not see people dancing in the streets of Buenos Aires, deep inside there would be Argentines who would at least think "They had it coming." That is the real task: getting rid of the Yanqui go home feeling that pervades all over the globe. That is what I would like to see on TV, instead of talks about retaliation...

          Okay, so, essentially the author is - I think - saying 'deal with the negativity, and you end the problem'. I think. I don't think I'm really keen on how the sentiment was expressed but, hell, I've been in this country long enough to be swayed by the cultural programming herein, so I can just cope with it, no problem.

          Then Mr. Temper Bear got all Bruce Banner on me and wrote this reply.
          **rant mode on**
          Alas, the sentiments voiced by your friend-of-a-friend in Argentina, well... ask an impoverished/less-wealthy-than-the-US country how their collective opinion of the US can be improved and the answer is going to boil down to "give us money. Put us on the same economic footing as you." - it's all economic envy. The fallout of capitalism, really.
          "We need to remove the root of the Yanqui go home sentiment". Somehow, I'm not optimistic that governments, looking for a scapegoat to convince their people that their fucked-up plight (whatever it might be) is NOT the fault of those in power - somehow I don't think a scapegoating regime is going to exactly knock itself out to improve American-whatever relations...
          So, we're supposed to bribe the rest of the world into treating our country decently? Counting on human decency isn't good enough for us? *sigh*
          That "they had it coming" sentiment that some quiet voices are airing pisses me off mightily. It's blaming the victim, and that's just bullshit. Victims of rape don't "deserve" what happens to them - neither did those airline passengers, neither did those poor sods who had to decide between jumping out of a window 1000ft up, or burning to death.
          Victim-blame is done by people who want to free themselves from any sense of responsibility. Who don't like the victim. Who just want to keep their heads in the sand and pretend that such a thing won't happen to them because, of course, *they* don't deserve it.
          This is nasty and cynical and coming from a lapsed socialist but, heck, that's how I am.
          **end rant**

          Shit, I ain't proud of myself for that. At least Mr. Temper Bear calmed down.

          From An Ongoing Erratic Diary - I expect terrorists to be heavily-propagandized, thoroughly-indoctrinated, religious fundamentalists willing to kill and die for whatever rhetoric they've been pumped up with. In my view, they're pretty damn close to insane already, and I can be angry at their acts, and angry at the people who train them, but I think in my mind, I've classified them as lost causes. They've been conditioned to the point where they're just not so close to human anymore -- they have to be, to be able to fly a plane into a building full of people. They can kill innocents without a single moral qualm, because someone has taught them that they're justified in it.
          I expected better of us.

          Indeed!

          I'm sure I'll get back to the usual twittering about gaming and sewing early next week. Incidentally, SteinCorp Station will be happening on Saturday. The players who had an opinion to share said that they would rather see the game happen than reschedule - although one player has had to drop out because his father is believed killed by Tuesday's events (no confirmation, no details, I'm just hoping the guy is in a hospital somewhere and that Chuck is going to get some good news soon) and I feel just a tiny bit scummy for going ahead with the game... but... well, life's gotta go on, and we've got to start somewhere. It may as well be with a bit of escapism as anything.

***

          I'm wiped out. Totally beat. I got home last night and realized it was my last chance to get a costume together for Alex for the SteinCorp game and was just too tired to think about rolling out fabric, cutting, interfacing and sewing - let alone at high speed. Alex looked a little pouty, but more about that later...
          I'm out of things to say about the 11th right now. Everyone else has said it and most of them more eloquently than I ever could. At this point, it's like some awful game of Six Degrees Of Separation. I forget where I read it, but someone said "If you don't think you've been affected by all this, just wait. You will be.". I'm lucky and happy that no-one in my immediate circle has been hurt or killed. But one step further out and I see it. Chuck is praying to hear good news of his father. Marcelo is hoping his NY friends have just forgotten to call. Jennifer suffered a bad scare, as a friend of hers was scheduled to be in west wing of the Pentagon on Tuesday morning. And on it goes...
          I'm working next door to a construction site. Yesterday, a gas generator kicked on too noisily and I flinched. It was too noisy and too close - there was that panicked moment of "Is that a plane? They aren't supposed to be flying out of SFO yet, are they? What is it?". Afterwards, I laughed at myself, but I was angry, too - angry that I've had to become that jumpy. On almost all of the journals I read, the authors talk about seeing or hearing jets overhead and wondering about them... My Temper Bear is quite pissed about that, but I've recently renewed my grip on that rolled-up newspaper.
          Alex and I couldn't bear the idea of eating frozen food last night - and our kitchen is, once again, totally filthy. So we stopped by Digger's for dinner. The diner was completely decked out in U.S. flags and our favorite waitress - who looks more like Queen Amidala every day - had tucked a flag into the bun of her hair. I've seen similar several times this morning, too. It made me smile - a slightly goofy, but very well-meant gesture.

          3:01PM - Good news! Chuck's dad called. He's okay! It turns out he decided to blow off work and go upstate to his cabin for a couple of days. No radio, no TV. After a day of wondering where all the other campers were, he came back into town and got the shock of his life... But he's alright. A little bit of good news! Oodles of thanks are owed to Chuck for his consideration in passing it on to me. I was only one of many he shared his worry with, and I'm glad he got back to me when the hoped-for good news came in.

          Okay, I'm back to trivialities, now.
          Alex and I are going ahead with SteinCorp Station tomorrow. I'm a little leery and still feeling a bit fragile, but I think people are going to want to get out of their houses, do something utterly harmless and mindless for a few hours - and given that all major sporting events are cancelled, LARPing is as good as anything.
          I'm in a total panic about costuming. I figured I could just barely finish Kasi's and Casey's costumes tonight, as well as finish the alterations to Logan's doublet - which have been languishing for six months. That meant punting Alex's EarthForce uniform. He tried to be a good little soldier when I told him the news but I could tell he wasn't too happy about it, and I don't blame him. We're both costuming wonks, and having a good costume - or any costume, for that matter - means a lot to my hunny.
          Last night, I had a minor brainwave about how I might be able to put everything together tonight - the actual cutting and sewing and then do the interfacing tommorow at the hotel. See, I'm using this real cheap fabric - but it's the perfect shade of blue - so every single piece of the garment has to be interfaced with this heat-fusible stuff I've got. That is the real time-sink in this project. Multiply that times two (one for him, one for me) and I'm facing a real all-nighter. But, if I wrote off having a uniform for myself, and did the interfacing after the garment was assembled (probably at the hotel), maybe I could do it in time.
          Then I had another minor brainwave. My pal Missy sews - quite a bit, actually, when she has the chance. My pal Missy is also looking for a bit of ready cash, from time to time - gotta love being a student. I've got a spare machine - courtesy of my mother-in-law. So, I'm going to give Missy a call once she gets home from class and offer her $5/hour if she comes to my place tonight and helps me out. Yes, my money is tight, but this level of help that I'm asking for goes a bit beyond the boundaries of buddy-ness if you ask me... I'll offer the dosh and if she refuses, then, well and good, but the offer must be made.
          Whilst the EF jackets are quite fiddly - although I managed to salvage some of the most fiddly bits from the first test-run jacket I made for myself, which will save time if I have the chance to work on my own outfit - the trousers are quick and easy to make. They're just time consuming to cut, interface and sew, but they don't require much skill. I could easily put Missy to work on that, and on finishing the sleeves for Kasi's garment, which still have to be appliquéd and replaced onto a robe. Hmm, if Mike comes over to keep us company - rather than being left at home alone while his g/f sews - maybe I can bully him into helping with Casey's garment which, honestly, just needs some bits of leather glued onto the bottom...
          Sure, it's a trivial project, but life has got to start again, somewhere, and I've got an obligation to keep.
 

***

          Stopped by the newly-opened Half-Price Books place last night. Oh, I'm in trouble. I've got a bookstore that is ludicrously cheap, open until 11PM every day and is directly on the way home from work...
          I picked up four books for $11, including P.J. O'Rourke's Eat The Rich. If I'm going to be misinformed about economics, I may as well be misinformed by someone who is going to amuse me while they're at it. Whilst I've grown a little tired of PJ's ongoing attempt to become the next Art Buchwald (or something) he's still enjoyable to read most of the time.
          I also picked up - oh bliss! - a book detailing the history of the British Secret Service from the year Dot to 1980. A shame it couldn't be a bit more current, but what could I expect for $3? Besides, it'll have plenty of details about the immediate post-WWII period, and that's what I'm interested in. No, I'm not going to plan a LARP around this, I swear! Otherwise, I picked up The Looking Glass War by John LeCarre (keeping up with the espionage theme, I guess) and some Dick Francis novel that I haven't read, yet (so much for the theme). That should keep me entertained for the next week or so...

Gaming Musings
          It's Monday and I think my feet have just about stopped aching. Next time, I don't wear dress flats whilst running a LARP.
          The game went well. I shall offer a pithy list of things learned, momentarily. Bribing Missy to come over and help sew was a godsend. While she replaced the sleeves on the Minbar garment, put new popstuds on Logan's doublet and helped cut fabric, I was madly working on Alex's EA uniform... I got it together in time by dint of staying up 'til 2AM and getting out of bed five hours later and finishing it before and after breakfast. I wasn't happy with it and I learned the hard way why it's easier to fuse interfacing before the garment is assembled, but at least he had something to wear and I'm happy about that, dammit. Meanwhile, my own uniform is still on pieces on the floor of the sewing room - which looks like a small tornado touched down within its walls. I was a bit grumpy about having naught to wear - even grumpier when I couldn't find my black BDUs - but I convinced myself to be philosophic about it and got on with the game-prep...
          The players had a good time, although they all want more character background next time around - which surprised me. I'm used to players who can't seem to keep a paragraph of motivation in their head for four hours, not guys who want lots more of the stuff. Although I was rather startled to overhear the Minbar ambassador telling her Centauri counterpart that they would back the Centaur if they were to declare war on Earth over a certain matter which didn't involve the Minbar at all...  The roleplaying was very good, all around, and the plots played out pretty much as Alex and I predicted.

          Of course, there are pictures of the event.

          Obligatory pithy list of things learned from running SteinCorp Station

• The perfect camouflage for a sci-fi event is a Sweet Adelines convention. We didn't stand out at all...
• Wear comfy shoes
• There is always extra space to sneak into at the Marriot, even if only for a couple of hours.
• Radios for the GMs are not a 'luxury item' particularly when they are both wearing uncomfortable shoes
• The quiet PCs are the ones you can't trust not to stab an NPC in the back (the paperwork for Meera to transfer to the warrior caste is in the mail...)
• If you forget to print one thing, it's not the end of the world. It may be annoying, but unless its the character-sheets that have been left behind, you'll muddle through somehow
• If you want game-on to start at six, do not tell your players that, as they will show up at 5:50 with an armload of liquid latex, facepaint, spirit gum and other cosmetic things they have never used before, and honestly believe that they will be ready to go at 6PM. Instead, tell your players that game on is an hour before what you really expect it to be. Better they think that you're running late than your schedule getting screwed up...
• The plot always moves faster than you expect it to - this lot ripped through a six hour plot in three and a half hours.

          As I say, it's taken about 36 hours for my feet (and back, and head) to recover from this one, but I had a good time with it. I think, next time around, that neither I nor Alex should play any characters, unless they are 'sacrifical lambs' (as I was playing) who go down early in the plot - then it's much easier to run around and keep an eye on things. And we're definitely getting radios. Fortunately, it's going to be a few months, so we have time to save our pennies...
          Now we've got to start work on the next event... Alex is keen on Fear Stalks Whitechapel, although I think it might be biting off more than we can chew. Whilst I'm keen on Valley of the Kings, I'm aware that that game would be even more difficult - and expensive! - in terms of logistics. Plot-wise, I really think Thirteen Days Of Terror would be the least taxing to write and administer. It's the one idea currently on our plate that doesn't require an exotic locale - or creation of an exotic locale in the backyard - and can, in fact, be run in a very small, dingy-blah space if need be. It'll also be the easiest event for costuming purposes. Early 60's chic we can ask the playership to find, without sounding unreasonable.
          I think SteinCorp proved that our less-scripted games work out much better than the heavily-directed games that we have tried in the past. Temple of Terror was reasonably free-form, and the players loved it, whereas Evil At Bay derailed rather seriously halfway through because certain characters deviated from the rather narrow course that had been assigned to them. The players still had a great time, mind you, but behind-the-scenes, there was a lot of scrambling (and cussing!) going on. Thirteen Days of Terror, I think is very evocative of Temple of Terror (beyond the similarity of the name, of course) in that it's close to a locked-room setting, with the residents of a small town dealing with an unknown menace. Hmmm, maybe it's a little too derivative of itself? Aw, fuckit, it'll still be fun...And that is the point.

***

          I tell ya, feeding kittens - and getting formula off the kitten, the rug, my sweater - is vastly preferable to watching yet another round of speculation and vapid human-interest on CNN. Kids might drive me up the wall but, right now, having a ten-day-old ball of fluff to look after makes me feel a helluva lot better.

Gaming Musings
          Um, not a lot. Gotta do downtime for CAST tonight, although I'm once again thinking of quitting once the Tundress plot is done. I think I need a long break from vampire larping - not just the stalled vacation I took at the beginning of the summer. I would much rather be dedicating my gaming-gray-cells towards Chuckling Cthulhu events, anyways....

***

          Oh, I added some new journals to Whither I Ramble.

Gaming Musings
          Ugh, none. I'm so not in the mood to deal with CAST this week, but I've gotta do something. Apparently Josiah is retiring the vastly annoying TJ - although I must admit that I thought TJ had good RP/character development potential, despite his irritating side. Joe's getting ready to introduce a Malkavian into the game, and I'm fully expected to ride herd on him. I just hope it isn't that damn 'Samurai Jack' ripoff his proposed last time. Gaiser said I pretty much have to accept the character into the court and into the clan, no matter what, but I would much rather deal with a somewhat less stoopid concept than this one: he believes he's a cybernetic samurai sent from the future to save us from Gehenna. *Sigh*... Maybe I'll get lucky.

***

Gaming Musings
          Port Townsend tomorrow. That will be fun. Providing we aren't all cowering from another round of terrorism... Pessimistic? Me? Nah...

***

Gaming Musings
          Port Townsend was good fun. Logan seemed to tolerate interruptions by Max quite well. Even more so when Colette stopped by with Anghared - 85lbs of Rottweiller puppy! Anyways... we mostly wrapped up the plot of the past three games, although there are some dangling bits to be taken care of in one more session. Logan's a good GM, I just wish I could get more into the game right now. More on that in a moment.

          The CAST game was the usual fun. It was very low-key - lots of meetings to talk about how to fight the Sabbat in San Francisco. It was that or run a five-hour combat with the PCs in San Francisco, and that would have been pointless on a variety of levels. Most notably, the Camarilla do not fight the Sabbat toe-to-toe in the streets... I hope the other players understood that...
          Patricia did her usual things - playing with the razor and generally being unpleasant. For want of anything better to do, she's stirring up the shit against the Seneschal and starting to wonder how many of the courtiers could be convinced to support her for Prince once the Seneschal finally snaps and whacks the current ruler of the court... Not that I think Trish would be a good Prince, but it's a goal to work on and it keeps me amused during the dull bits of the game.
          As usual, I'm starting to think I need a long break from Vampire: The Masquerade, and maybe from gaming entirely - with the exception of Chuckling Cthulhu plottage. The CAST game is a bit of a chore, with the logistics and all, and I'm still having a hard time getting into Port Townsend and even Alex's D&D game. It's all just leaving me a bit cold. Every game I attend is the same routine: I think about not attending, Alex cajoles me into it, and I have a sorta-good time - sometimes pretty darn good, sometimes totally blah and I-wish-I-had-brought-a-book...
          But, I'm only in 3 games right now, one of which is only every six weeks or so, and another one of them may as well be on that schedule. So it's not like I'm totally overwhelming myself with gaming. If I stepped back from the CAST logistics, that would probably ease up the ongoing cranky-feeling I seem to be associating with gaming of late, but as long as I'm a part of that troupe, I think I'm going to be involved in logistics. There's no-one else in that chronicle who is competent to take care of what has to be done - well, no-one who is local. Shannon's about to move out and Jennifer is waaaay down in Fremont - besides, while I know Jenn's got the smarts to handle it, she's got enough going on in her life as it is. She's not looking for a game to run - unless it's her nascent B5 LARP. Ah, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...
          Still, I feel like there is much more that I would rather be doing than gaming. Although that might just be the kitten overwhelming my consciousness. Still, I've got a stack of patterns knee-high that I want to get a start on - I got inspired by my Gothic Lolita book the other day for a coat I want to make - and I've been neglecting my self-imposed Network 23 project for the past two weeks, too. Sigh, maybe this is just a PMS thing for me now. Once a month, contemplate quitting a hobby I've enjoyed for ten years... It beats being psychotic, I guess...

***

          Alex and I may have to ditch going to Faire this weekend, entirely, as our yard is a mess and the landlord isn't too happy about it. The proper, responsible thing to do would be to stay home and work on the yard and the rest of the house - Alex exorcised the demons out of the kitchen on Tuesday, maybe it's time for me to do the same with the sewing and guest rooms. So, of course, we're trying to convince ourselves otherwise. Well, if we don't make it this weekend, we are definitely going for the final two weekends... Now we've just gotta find a ride up there. Alex is still leery about the car, and I don't blame him. I'm in no rush to pay for another $170 towing.
          The PMS fairy is eating my brain, as usual. Along with the monthly fit of 'quit gaming', I'm getting waspish around Alex and I'm not sleeping too well. Then again, not sleeping well has become the norm, rather than the exception, for the past few weeks. No doubt it's my crappy diet and lack of exercise. I keep talking about picking up my weights, but I never do. It's hard to get the energy to exercise after sleeping on the train all the way home, and don't even talk to me about sweating-before-work...
          I sometimes feel like I'm being nibbled to death by guppies, and I have there's an ongoing whisper in the back of my head saying 'simplify, simplify'. It wouldn't be too tough, just time consuming. I want to really clean the house - steam the carpets, clean the closets, toss out all the clothes I've outgrown or that have been ruined by the cat, clean out the assorted piles of crap that are on the bookshelves and fill them with books - organize my bill payments so that they aren't so frenetic, decide once and for all if I want to keep gaming, and if so, which games, and maybe sign up for a few adult-ed courses and get me some skills that will get me out of this administrative chicken outfit.
          There, that wouldn't be so tough, right? Uh-huh. I've got a few problems to deal with along the way. My inherent laziness being the biggest, of course, and a cleaning style that is totally incompatible with my husband coming a close second.
          It's odd, but I never thought mode-of-housecleaning would be the cause of so much irritation on my part. Me, I'm a 'big picture' kind of person when it comes to tidying: throw away everything I possibly can, then get the remaining stuff off the floor, get the rest of the junk jammed away or at least neatly piled up to one side, clean the surfaces with whatever dam' cleanser we have - you'll be amazed what you can use Windex for when it's all you've got. Then I'll go through the displaced junk in detail, do a secondary trash-and-burn weeding through it, and put it away. Mine is a 'multiple pass' way of cleaning a room. Go through once, it's a bit tidier. Go through twice, it's a lot tidier. The third and final pass, everything is clean and put away.
          Meanwhile Alex is utterly meticulous when he cleans. He'll painstakingly sort, trash and place every bit of stuff he comes across, as he comes across it. One-pass through the room and it's spotless. But that one-pass is a loooong time in coming. So, whenever we're cleaning house together, I'm halfway through the second pass on the kitchen, for example, and thinking "Yeah, I've made some perceptible progress here", I'll pop into the living room and see...what looks to be exactly the same room as an hour ago, except for that one tidy corner over there. Even though I know this is how Alex likes to tidy, the top of my head threatens to pop off because it looks like he's gotten distracted by an unearthed pile of magazines and hasn't corralled a dust bunny in half an hour. Sometimes, that is the case, but usually it isn't. So I get all huffy and get back to scrubbing, muttering darkly to myself about husbands with the attention span of a two-week-old kitten.
          Another hour later, I will emerge. The living room is spotless, and Alex is still reading the same magazines I caught him looking at an hour ago. Embarrassment ensues. But I just can't get my head around how he does it - and usually so calmly. I tend to shriek and cuss whilst cleaning...
          Now, if I could just break him of that pack-rat habit of keeping every magazine, catalogue and bit of paper he has ever accumulated, we would be getting somewhere. I know better than to get in the way of his comic book collection - especially since I'm a contributor to that, myself - but when I'm coming across six-year-old copies of Premier magazine in the guest room, it gets a bit wearying. Still, at least I think we managed to get rid of the last of his ex-wife's stuff during the last move. After all, five years is plenty of time to have hung on to a godawful tacky lamp (with a dolphin motif, no less) on the slight chance that the ex is gonna track us down and ask for it back...

          Aw, what the hell...

Gaming Musings
          Um. Er. Yeah...

August '01        Index        October '01