noideadog: (bike)
Five observations from my commute today:

1) The city is in a great mood. I cut some dude off at the lights (completely by accident) and instead of being angry, he waved all "go ahead!" and friendly. I was singing popular hits from the musical Grease (I don't know; you can't help what gets stuck in your brain) and I passed another dude belting out Amy Winehouse and it was just like that for the whole way. Everyone's being all four-day-week-ish and cheerful.

2) Manhattan mini storage posters are getting even cheekier. Seriously, I hope to never have anything to store, but if I do, their posters have done their job. Today's was "You'll have more wiggle room than Herman Cain's morals". I nearly crashed my bike. More posters here:

3) There are signs up warning of gridlock, but traffic is pretty light. Maybe that changes in the afternoon. Even when there are fewer cars, the big vehicles are still scary. I wish people didn't park in the bike lane (obviously), but I hate it most on Bowery because there are so many delivery trucks and other lumbering giants. You sure do feel invisible and squishy. In related news, I finally remembered to enroll at

4) Travel mugs are better than disposable mugs for not splashing coffee all over the things in your stupid bike basket. Mmm, stale milk smell. (I love my stupid bike basket, not least because it means I don't have to choose between coffee and cycling first thing in the morning).

5) Cycling in winter is much nicer than cycling in summer (assuming no ice or precipitation), but the bike room is almost empty. What's going on with that?
noideadog: (bike)
I rode my bike to work today. Bike! I was a bit nervous, but it was pretty good. The Brooklyn parts were actively lovely, as was the mile along the Hudson at the end, and the Brooklyn Bridge wasn't too busy so it was good too. The middle part, crossing Manhattan along Reade Street, was insane (and very stinky), but it was more "what do I do here?" insane, not the "I wonder if I'll die now" situations that I'd expected. Coming off the Brooklyn Bridge was the worst, but I think that's just because I didn't know what to do. It seems like it'd be fine if you were confident about what lane you should be in, where all the lights were, and where you were likely to be going once traffic started moving. It'll be better next time. I reminded myself "You are a car. You are not a pedestrian" six hundred times, and that helped me stay visible and suitably aggressive too.

It's slightly faster than the subway, though you do lose valuable reading time. You're less likely to catch a cold from a germ-riddled commuter. More likely to have some Mensan suddenly reverse into the bike lane in front of you. More likely to inhale enough car fumes to give you a headache. Less likely (probably, and this is the point of the bike) to spend Winter drowning in seasonal affective disorder. We shall see.

Overall it was a fairly good experience and I will do it again.

Mine is the only bike in the bike shed that has a basket. That means I'm cool, right?
noideadog: (meerkat)
Hailstones the size of sugar lumps are thrashing down outside. I have never seen anything like this in my life.
noideadog: (nyc)
Pleasant interaction reported at New York post office.

"She was delightful", said a confused Irish immigrant. "We had a nice conversation. Nobody was shouting at me. I didn't know what to do." Amid widespread speculation that the slight drop in temperature has improved the mood of the city, a controversial theory has been proposed: "It's these commemorative animal shelter postage stamps", the city's preeminent postal psychologist told us. "Nobody predicted that simply putting cute cats and dogs on postage stamps would have this kind of effect, but there you go. It's obvious, when you think about it. How did we not see that coming?"

When asked for comment, a USPS representative said "Puppies! <3 <3"
noideadog: (nyom)
We went out for Nice Dinner last night at Dirt Candy, a fancy veggie place on 9th and 1st. What's great about this place is that their food is unapologetically made out of vegetables: there's no textured vegetable protein or fake meat or I-can't-believe-it's-not-fish, just beautiful fresh vegetables cleverly prepared and combined. I love the name too. As their blurb says, "When you eat a vegetable you’re eating little more than dirt that’s been transformed by plenty of sunshine and rain into something that’s full of flavor: Dirt Candy.". Well, I'm not sure they have all of the science there, but they've got the food preparation sorted out.

Delicious things we had included deep fried grapes, portobello mousse, eggplant jam, tempura dippy egg, pear & fennel compote, creamed corn. All extraordinary. (I should note that charging $9 for a glass of grape juice is also extraordinary, but we'll let it go just this once.)

I'm on call this week (hence the unfermented grapes with dinner) and getting ready for a week of nighttime interruptions. Being on call is unpredictable. The pager might be silent for a week, or it might scream at 4am for four nights in a row. You can't tell. So far it's been reasonable, with the only action being a network blip that caused a couple of alerts to fire at 7am. It was easy to debug and it meant that I was already in the shower when my morning alarm went off, so I can't complain about that. Fingers crossed for a quiet week. I'm useless without enough sleep.
noideadog: (coffee)
Things about New York that I find heeelaaaaarious, #1 in a series:

Fashionable people wear wellington boots. Fashion wellies! You see women on the subway and in the office all perfect hair and designer everything and big shiny wellies. It makes me so, so happy.

Everything is busy and pretty good and much the same as it's been for a month, except a bit more rainy. Work, subway, poke at projects around the house, do Arabic homework, ignore email, try not to think about wedding planning, read under the blankets for half an hour after I should have been asleep, be woken up by the cat trying to open the door using violent percussion. The last one is entertaining when I'm awake, mental annoying when I'm asleep: I'm not sure whether she really believes that attacking the door will make it open, or if she knows that we'll eventually get angry enough to get up and let her out. Same thing I suppose. We're so well trained.

Arabic homework now takes up a couple of evenings a week, as well as any commutes where I get a seat. It's good fun, but time-consuming, and I still don't have a solid reason for learning the language. That doesn't mean that I want to stop, but after our teacher made some dark predictions yesterday about how nobody keeps studying it for fun after Arabic 4 (we're at Arabic 3), I feel like I should make some sort of decision about what the point is. It might need to be more concrete than "Well, I like learning stuff, and I like travelling, and I like linguistics, and I like cryptography and puzzles, and the Middle East is really interesting, so a widely-spoken language that uses a different script is as good a thing to learn as anything else. I mean, it's better than not learning it, right?". (This reason is pretty compelling so far)

In another year or something, I can take a sabbatical from work, and I'd love to go live in Beirut or Cairo for a couple of months and eat a lot of foul do an intensive study class and/or volunteer for [something arbitrary]. It's something to think about anyway.

I'm reading "Logicomix, an Epic Search for Truth" which is a comic about the logical foundations of mathematics and the life of Bertrand Russell. It's also telling the story of the team who are writing the comic, which is a technique that I like. Stories within stories make for a rich reading experience, and comics are really powerful at twisting threads together.

Speaking of entwined stories, I'm also reading Neal Stephenson's The System of the World and oh god I can't remember who any of the characters are I'm looking forward to some day being finished it, and starting again at Quicksilver, and reading the whole way through again and having a clue what's going on. It's... very good? ambitious? epic? intimidating? impressive? intricate? difficult? enjoyable? f**king enormous? Yes it is.
noideadog: (nyc)
Something nice we saw this morning was two dudes being all romantic and smoochy while pushing a baby stroller. Even in Chelsea, that's really rare. Maybe it's more common in more domestic parts of the city.

It's mental that that couple would have to travel out of state if they wanted to get married. It feels like gay rights have finally been put on the table all over the world at once, and marriage equality in NY definitely can't be far off now, but, dudes, this isn't some crappy backwater; this is New York! How can it have taken so long? It's going to be embarrassing when a future generation asks us wtf was going on with that, that's all I'm saying.
noideadog: (coffee)
Irishers, how bad was the Tubridy-Cowen interview? From the way the Sindo tells it, Tubridy couldn't have been more UNFAIR and MEAN. Gosh, I had no idea that the Taoiseach was so beloved these days. Was it really like they say?

Apartment update: The seller is ready to close, and we're ready to close and the bank says that they're ready to close[1] and maybe we'll own an enormous debtapartment really soon. As per guidelines, I'm doing three hours of wrist and forearm exercises every day to prepare for an epic day of contact signing. Maybe it will be this week; maybe not. Either way, we've been thinking a lot about how to turn our new place into a machine for living in, and late this evening it became obvious that interior design literature would help. Was it unreasonable to expect Chelsea, the gayest part of the city (male division), to be a font of interior design advice? Well, perhaps it was, and anyway I was disappointed: I had to go all the way to 5th Ave to find an open magazine shop. The apartment-as-lifestyle section was a bit overwhelming, but I bought a few of the least aggressive titles (I'd tell you which ones I bought, but the cat's asleep on them now), and they were also out of Irish Timeses so I got the Sunday Independent. I wouldn't have done that at home, but it's different here; I was so impressed at them having an Irish Sunday paper on a Sunday that I couldn't not buy it. (I mean, I could have not bought the Sunday World, but you see what I mean).

Sunday update: We went to Blue Hill and had the tasting menu. They didn't have a veggie tasting menu, but they invented one: Joel mostly got slabs of pig (pork face, pork belly, pork I don't know what else) and I got baby tomatoes and peppers and weird mushrooms and quinoa from the single place that grows it around here. We had two courses of fresh berries for dessert. Very highly recommended.

[1] Sometimes mismatched pronouns sound nicest and I am defensively mentioning this here so you can know that I thought about this for far longer than was appropriate.
noideadog: (nyc)
The internet says it's not that hot and not that humid, but it doesn't have to go out there, does it? Some of us don't have nice air-conditioned machine rooms, internet! Don't be so quick to judge!

It's been a good day. I was in Soho trying to not buy more jeans and black tank tops when Joel texted and said that we should have an adventure. An adventure means going to a part of the city that we don't know, and seeing what there is to eat there. If you ask me, it's the pinnacle of human recreational achievement. I abandoned the clothing diversity mission, and met Joel in Grand Central Station, where we took the 7 train to Flushing.

Flushing would be worth visiting just for its ridiculous name, but, even apart from that, it's worth a look. It's mostly Chinese and Korean [1], so we looked at interesting mushrooms and fishes, and ate good dumplings, and then regretted being full and not being able to eat allegedly better dumplings. I liked the idea of waiting there until we got hungry again, but the sun defeated me pretty quickly. It was so warm and there were so many people and so many street stalls and so much going on that every step was a complex negotiation. My brain ran out of stamina and I needed to sit quietly on the train back and not think about anything difficult. Flushing was interesting, though. I would go again.

Something I was wondering today: when restaurants are called, like, "New Good Joy Restaurant" or "Happy Luck Palace", or whatever, does this tend to be a literal translation from a name which would be unremarkable in China? And if we translated English language restaurant names to Chinese, would they sound amusing and unlikely to people there?

[1] except Wikipedia says that no, actually it's one of the most diverse places anywhere and only 43% of the residents are Asian and it's just the area around the train station that's a Chinatown. More exploration required.
noideadog: (nyc)
Things I love about living in New York

  • High quality food. Bad restaurants don't last long in New York, and whatever cuisine you want, there's usually one inside a couple of blocks. No matter what you're looking for, it's available here, and it's cheap, and it probably delivers. Pretty much all restaurants will deliver, and it will still cost less than buying groceries. If we ever leave New York, this is what I'll miss most.

  • Human diversity. I could sit and watch people go by all day. And listen to people too. You can hear all the languages there are just by walking around. If you wanted genetic diversity to seed a new planet, taking any subway car would probably do fine.

  • The dedicated pursuit of the ridiculous. Not just the easter bonnet parade and the zombie parade and the other things that block off 5th Avenue for a day, but the privately organised madness. Here's a sample from an events list I'm on:
    "Michael Jackson Cut-Off Shorts Extravaganza-Bonanza",
    "What Cheer? Brigade Chaotic marching band.
    "Hollow Man Levitate ... incorporates somnambulism, the angel of death, a video projection, and eating hamburgers underwater.
    "Monduna: A Robot Masquerade It's a graphic novel where the story is you. Robot costume strongly suggested."
    "The Pirate's Life: This Saturday, we are taking over a three level ferry boat docked on a secret canal in the bowels of Brooklyn for an all-night adventure of performance, pillaging, stiff drinks and dancing girls."
    "Pretty in Pink 80s Prom"
    "Pucks Multimedia Mischief: stolen brushes, hammered dulcimers, video cameras, passionate voices, sparkling clothes, tables that dream, interactive art installations, confetti cannons"
    "Flashwalk: A five-borough, two-footed trek from Brooklyn to Staten Island."
    "Natural Born Grillers"
    "It’s About the Numbers, Baby! a one-of-a-kind tutorial in how to win at games of chance."
    "Science for Art Majors: Cellular Biology, etc., Why do we breath? Why don't we fall apart? How is shit made? and so on. Things to maybe bring: blanket/chair, umbrella, notepad."
    "Aerial Open Work Out. Come play in 29 feet of vertical fun. Use our silks, lyras, and trapezes, or rig your own."
    "Williamsburg Spelling Bee, compete for bar tab at a real adult spelling bee, every other MONDAY,"
    "NYC Bike Polo. No experience needed. We'll show you how to play."

    Etc, etc, etc. This is just a small subset of the events on the list for this week.

  • Being the center of the universe. (Ok, mostly I mean being in the center of the universe, but an inflated sense of one's own importance is an important factor in surviving in this city.) As for the city, this is where everything happens. If you're looking for an organisation or a seller or a concert, chances are it's in New York. You don't need to go to other places; anything that doesn't already live here will come by on tour.

  • The organisation. Everything just works. There's a street fair somewhere different every week, and the city doesn't shut down in traffic chaos. The public transport runs 24h. The post office at 34th and 8th is open 24h. Lots of things are recycled, and there's a website that explains what is and why other things aren't. It's all mostly sane.

    Things I hate about living in New York

  • High fructose corn syrup in everything. It's illegal, I think, to make things that don't have corn in them, and you get a tax break if you can make the corn cause obesity. I've heard. Unless you go to some hippy place, you're getting corn in everything you buy.

  • Self flushing toilets. They don't just flush when you stand up; they flush if you've been sitting for more than 30 seconds. You don't want to sit down on the edge to tie your shoelace is what I'm saying. It makes me so! angry!

  • Tipping. Ok, I get that you tip for taxis, beer, hairdressers (individually for the person who cuts your hair and the person who washes it), moving companies, masseuses, doormen, maintenance people, and anyone who provides a service, even if the only thing you're paying for is the service they're providing, and you'll never see them again. But what constitutes a service? Do you tip a civil engineer? Do you tip a courier? Do you tip at the dry cleaners? Who the hell knows? And how do you give someone two dollars without feeling like a swaggering baron giving alms to the little people? Oh my god I hate it so much.

  • Tourists, everywhere, all the time. Yes, yes, that's a most attractive bridge. and those buildings sure are tall. WALK FASTER, ASSHOLES.

  • Dublin is so far away. Why can't we have Dublin where Jersey is?
noideadog: (Default)
I'm having a spectacularly nice day. Nothing much is happening that's even worth telling about, but that absolutely won't stop me from telling it. Here's my day:

I woke up with a hankering to read The Anatomy of LISP. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but this is something that always puts me in a good mood, and I started the day by being impressed and happy with some clever recursion. After that was that cat's morning harness training, which went really well -- she's not quite stepping into the harness, but she's standing patiently while I assemble it; the leash is going to be another story, I suspect -- and then we went for brunch. Paradise Cafe makes great veggie breakfast burritos with tofu and artichokes and things. After that I walked around Manhattan a whole lot, and ended up in the upper east side, so I bought the Irish Times at a shop there that's good for international newspapers. I got takeaway apple and cinnamon tea at Alice's Teacup then sat in the breezy sunshine drinking tea and doing the crossword and eating a low-calorie chocolate muffin, which sounds like it should be rubbish but was actually delicious enough to warrant an advertisement. Buy these!

Then I went to the United Nations, which was pretty great actually. I kind of love the UN in the same way that I kind of love the postal service: it has its flaws and it sure has its detractors, but the fact that it exists is a wonderful thing. Such civilisation we have! The World Press Photo '09 exhibition is on there right now, all moving and funny and shocking and clever and sad like a good photography exhibition should be. I bought some books, and looked at the crafts from everywhere (delicate ceramic teapots from England; skillfully turned wooden pots from Armenia; appalling green hats from Ireland. *dies of shame*) then hung out in a park I'd never seen before, which had adults and kids playing hockey together, and (even better!) no filthy squirrels. I started heading home, but got waylaid by a street fair on Park Avenue, where I bought grilled corn on the cob (and applied too much chili powder, yikes), and saw two guys carrying lacrosse sticks, something I've only ever seen in comic books. They're smaller than I imagined.

On the way home I passed a great vegetable shop, so I bought some potatoes and an onion, because we have turnips and carrots in our fridge (it's a long story), and I reckoned that owning some potatoes and an onion would make it them more likely to leave the fridge while still solid. And I bought gruyere too, on general principles. I couldn't find the potatoes for a while, which was frustrating because if you have an irish accent there is no way in hell you can ask where the potatoes are, but it worked out ok. And then I came home.

Now I'm waiting for a vegetable and cheese pie to bake (and I pretty much never cook, so you can imagine the immense childish pride here). And then Joel and I are going to see the Hurt Locker, which I suspect will not end the day on a happy high, but that's ok. It's kind of lovely and strange how small unremarkable things can add up to a perfect day.
noideadog: (coffee)
Tonight: Manhattan Cubed. Watching Manhattan in Manhattan while drinking Manhattans. I've been excited about this since I invented it last week.

Edit: Brilliant. Brilliant. Brilliant.
noideadog: (nyc)
Since I'm thinking about Irish-abroad cliches, here's a quick list

Irish in New York things I don't do:
- call the locals "Yanks".
- know who won the All-Ireland.
- own a Wolfe Tones CD.
- complain about American beer. (Dudes, the microbreweries here are ASTOUNDING.)
- have people smuggle me bacon and sausages from home.
- drink six pints and get bollocksed with my Irish friends every night at the weekend.
- sing along loudly any time someone plays Fields of Athenry.

Irish in New York things I do:
- crave chips all the time. Jesus Christ.
- correct people when they call Irish "Gaelic".
- be picky about buying Irish butter. (The French are good at butter too. Everyone else needs to stop trying.)
- say "jaysus" and "shite" and "deadly" and "ah now".
- say "No, you are mistaken" when someone claims to have been drinking good Guinness in America.
- have people smuggle me Taytos from home.
- hate people telling me how adorable my accent is and how I'm so, so funny.
- lie about not singing Fields of Athenry.

Irish in New York things I used to do but life's too short:
- find it irritating when people get all "You're irish? Oh my god! I'm irish too!" when they've never left the continental US. You'd have to spend your life irritated. Now I'm nice and show an interest instead. I'm so heroic.
noideadog: (Default)
Really interesting comments, both online and offline, on my locked-up-brain post. I love that some people are like "Yes of course" and other people don't understand what I mean at all. I will think some more on what this all means and report back. You're on tenterhooks, I can tell. (I'll reply soon too. Thanks for the comments!)

In other news, this weekend is Pride, and there's a street fair and a parade and masses of other things. The Company has a bunch of people in the parade, and I was thinking of going along and waving my flag if they'll have me. I'm not certain that it's ok to be in the parade if you're marrying a dude and you're not a dude, but I reckon that's it's similar to people from everywhere celebrating Irishness in the Patrick's Day Parade. Wouldn't you think? Is anyone else going?

In other other news, the cat is sprawled out on the Times Comprehensive Atlas of the World giving her underbelly a thorough scrubbing. A cat and an atlas makes a good still life, I think, but I'm not sure exactly why. It's just a good combination.

Six Feet Under now. I have only seven episodes left, in the world, ever.
noideadog: (nyc)
*sweat some more*
*stop sweating*
*realise I'm crabby and almost passed out*

Repeat. For the next three months.
noideadog: (nyc)
Joel and I went to Milk and Honey last night, where I said "Because I have already had two delicious rye-based cocktails, as well as a pint of Old Speckled Hen, I will sit out this last round and just have water, which I have also been remembering to drink all along." Except that of course that's a lie. Sigh. I wish that's what had happened. Stupid delicious rye-based cocktails are my nemesis. They're so delicious.

The other thing we did yesterday was go out to Brooklyn for the next round in our exciting game of discovering which neighbourhoods we'd like to live in. The answer is still Fort Greene, but Fort Greene is rather small, so there just aren't that many places coming up in searches. Yesterday we stayed as close to Manhattan as you can be in Brooklyn and saw the rather posh Brooklyn Heights and the improbably named post-industrial wasteland that is DUMBO.

Neighbourhoods (or "nabes" as people say, and I'm never sure if they're being ironic) are interesting to me, because they have such strongly different characters. DUMBO is old factories and warehouses converted into arty lofts, lots of decent quality graffiti, a weird sort of well-kept desolate feel: vacant lots and barbed wire and not much light, but expensive cars and no litter. And then you walk for a minute and a half and you're in Brooklyn Heights, all lofty brownstones and calm (and wealthy) suburbia. I find it so weird and lovely that areas that live side by side can keep their personalities like this without blending together like Plasticine colours.

Brooklyn Heights is gorgeous, and it aces the rye test (We're back to rye again. I swear I have other things in my life.) which has been the only objective measurements we found for evaluating neighbourhoods: does the nearby alcohol shop sell rye whiskey. Most places don't, and nowhere has passed as well as the Heights did, with two whole shelves of ryes, including some bottles we'd never heard of. That's very promising. The area's quite sedate though and maybe boring. Joel asked "do you feel like you need to lower your voice around here?" and that was exactly it; it was not a high-spirited sort of place. We'll have to go out there again at a busier time of day and take another look.
noideadog: (Default)
I had three "yes"es on my immigration form, for "was on a farm", "touched livestock" and "am carrying food". I've never had any yeses before, so I was all psyched up for some quarantining or hosing down with bleach or something, but they just looked at my shoes and said it was ok. "But, I milked a cow! I petted a pig![1]" "Have a nice day" "Okey."

We're back in New York. I'm really too tired to make proper posts or even sentences, but the summary is that [ profile] rbpixies's and [ profile] shootbambi's wedding was super-lovely, except that our poor [ profile] inannajones was viciously attacked by the chicken pox and couldn't have any of the fun. It was horrible timing and entirely unfair of the universe. Hope you're feeling better, Nina!

Sleeping time now. I have a headache and an earache and a slight temperature, so am almost certainly going to die of swine flu tonight. If I do, someone should please move me out of here before the cat eats my face, thanks. Oh, and I should also thank the people who cat-sitted while we were away: normally she meets us at the door all "YOU BETRAYERS!", and today she's more like "Hey, how was your trip?". Thank you for maintaining her sanity, you chaps.

[1] We went to Causey Farm so that V could learn some valuable wifely skills, like baking bread and feeding hens and cutting turf:
noideadog: (buttercup)
Rough night, of the sort where you start to suspect a malevolent supernatural being is prodding you awake every time you reach the edge of sleep. Zzz.. whuh? Whassa? [repeat]. I saw the sun come up, and then I guess I slept at last until the cat politely reminded me (with head butting and much encouragement from Joel) that she needed breakfast. Going to walk around the block a bit before going to work to see if I can jump start my brain, which currently is sputtering and cutting out.

Yesterday we went exploring neighbourhoods in Brooklyn, this time Carroll Gardens and Cobble Hill. TMBG have a song about Brooklyn which says "Let's celebrate Brooklyn now. Even the Gowanus Canal", so I wanted to look at that too. It's not bad, if you squint a bit and direct your gaze into the middle distance and pretend the scrap metal barge is a people barge, and pretend the oil streaks are patterns of pretty light. and don't inhale. Apparently the fact that the water is moving at all represents intense effort by conservation groups. People who do that kind of work are really brilliant.
noideadog: (Default)

Comic con
Originally uploaded by xymb.
I'd read than NY Comic Con had 60000 attendees last year, but I didn't really believe it until I stood at the top of the stairs and watched the ocean of people. This picture doesn't do justice to how incredibly many people were in the convention center. There were really, really very many people. Although the prediction of "it will be hell" (from two unconnected people!) didn't hold up, I can see how someone might lose their mind with the irritation of trying to navigate around tens of thousands of excited costumed fan boys and girls.

Comic Con's not just about comics, but about fantasy, gaming, animation, action figures, scifi, collectables and nerdery and pop culture of many kinds. And lots of costumes. I saw:

- very many Marvel and DC heroes and villains
- legions of Jedi
- an eight foot tall semi-animatronic Hulk
- Lara Croft and Indy together
- around five hundred anime and manga characters I didn't recognise
- a couple of Rorshachs
- a Hiro Nakamura
- a -perfect- Link from Zelda
- more gold bikini Princess Leias than you'd think you'd ever find in one place.

People were so into it. It was tremendously sweet and great to watch.

I also went to an interview with the cast of Dead Like Me, met Bryan Lee O' Malley (he signed my book), watched the Vampire Cowboys doing choreographed fighting and wondered about people whose hobby is improvisational Star Trek episodes. I'm going back tomorrow for the Scott Pilgrim panel, and the one on how to sneak diversity into long- established comics without breaking continuity. I expect the preview of Dollhouse, Joss Whedon's new thing, will be mobbed, but it's probably worth a try. Good event, in summary. I'd go again next year.
noideadog: (lucy)
Lucy's on a fish oil supplement to help her dry skin. She was going mad with scratching, poor girl, scrubbing her back against rough surfaces and throwing herself in the air in a way that would have been pretty funny if she wasn't so sad. As ever, the vet's bill made me need to sit down -- Lucy's medical expenses for the last year are three times my own -- but it's a relief that it's not fleas, ticks, scabies, ear mites, bacterial infections, food allergies or anything else that's horrible or hard to get rid of. She's healthy, and dry skin is fixable with fish oil supplements. And she's sitting on my keyboard so it's hard to type. Stupid cat.

It is cold and dry out there right now. Yes, it's not as cold as the place where you are that's colder, and yes you're very strong, but it's cold all the same. It's so cold that you scream a bit when you step outside. It's so dry that spit is absorbed into the air before it reaches the ground. (This bit might be a lie, and it still beats Dublin winters, for the record). I'm not surprised that Lucy has dry skin. Mine is crumbling off too, and the lemon tree shed half its leaves before we moved it near the shower steam. Of our household, only Joel (born in a desert) and Roomba (stoic and forbearing) are unaffected. It is odd that this city of swampy humidity has this side to it. Seasons are interesting, don't you think?

I'm still learning java, I bought more chocolate, and I'll probably go to burning man, in case you were frantically wondering. And it's a long weekend. Hurray for this Workers Paradise!


noideadog: (Default)

February 2014

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