I have a cold, and had many dreams last night, all brightly colored and edged and none of them very pleasant. The last one was along the lines of your typical unprepared-for-examination dream. The first question was, "How large is the leak in the [map or chart or exam paper something]?" Rich (coworker) got down on his hands and knees with his test paper on the ground, and started measuring its dimensions with a tape measure. I, in my one instance of smarts in this dream, noticed that the question was multiple choice, with choices "heavy" and "not heavy." So I filled in the circle next to "not heavy." After that, the exam all went downhill. Rich soon left, having given up after measuring the dimensions of the test paper. He went outside and talked with the professor, who eventually turned into Mrs. Jones, my 9th grade English teacher. I continued with the test, but I might as well have given up, too. I thought the next question asked what was the 7th dam on the river (Little Goose Dam or Rock Island Dam, depending on the river), but instead it asked what was the operating procedure for spill [water over the dam] on the 7th day of the study. I had no idea that when I was reviewing the report/paper/study, I was supposed to be memorizing it. Then I had to compute derivatives of things, but not normal derivatives. No, these were wacky derivatives that somehow used the chain rule but not in any obvious way. I had not studied. I was going to fail. Everyone had already finished except for one guy in the corner with his iPod going and his feet on the desk; he may have been asleep. I explained to Mrs. Jones that I had just simply failed. She reminded me of the Chain Rule, but it didn't help.
Before that dream, I dreamt that Little Cousin Helena was holding Littler Cousin Chloe. Very cute, but strange, since they are from different branches of the family and live on different coasts. Eric K. was graduating from some university in Alaska and wanted us to attend his graduation. There was something about a river and rafting or kayaking or riding it on a log. I was supposed to be continuing my post-doc along the Pacific Rim, which meant that I next had to get a job in Hawaii. There was something about dolls and people outside the windows in my old room in Illinois. Oh yeah, and a taxi ride to Vaishali's. I caught a taxi in Charleston somewhere near Paggliai's (huh? the pizza place), and wanted to go to V's house, which was in Heritage Woods, but was really across 130 from the high school, kind of behind Mom's old office and in Eastgate. Two other people got in the taxi, too, and they wanted to go much farther than I did, so the taxi driver took me first. I gave him the address (62nd and N Street), and he took off in some strange direction, looking for the address amidst lots of condos and townhouses that had no backs. I gave him directions and he finally got me to Vaishali's, whose neighborhood resembled the lower part of Ashby and also what Aunt MaryAnn and Uncle Vernon's neighborhood usually looks like in my dreams. The road was twisty and windy, and the taxi driver announced that the house in front was owned by some people whose name was obviously Jewish, so I knew that Vaishali and Elliot's house was next door. Huh? They had a long straight driveway up a hill, and because they never shoveled it, it was full of snow. So the taxi driver left me off at the bottom of the driveway, and wouldn't tell me how much I owed him and also wouldn't give me change for the $10 I gave him. I woke up as a wrestled the ten away from him, and Vaishali came down to greet me. I still don't know how much I owed him, but I was certain that he didn't deserve a tip.
These are thrilling, I know. Very strong colors. Weird. It's raining out and my headache turned out to a caffeine headache. I guess that's good. My coffee table came yesterday, just in time for me to spend all day on the couch while I reviewed the long report. Useful.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Sunday, June 3, 2007
very long ramblings
It is a nice sunny Sunday morning out there right now, and the Weather Channel is predicting isolated thunderstorms for this afternoon, which seems fantastical, somehow, in this part of the world. We have perhaps two thunderstorms a year. But they do occur. A few years ago, a young woman was struck by lightening while she was sitting inside, near a window, sewing during a storm. The needle acted like a lightening rod. She came through it fine, I think, but a bit shaken. Electrified.
Today is the final concert of the season for my choir. We are performing this show just once, instead of the usual twice, because we are performing at Benaroya Hall (where the Seattle Symphony resides) and it is incredibly expensive. We have not sold enough tickets. It used to be that the leaders of the choir talked about ticket sales in helpful ways at many of the rehearsals, giving creative selling ideas and making it seem romantic to sell tickets. Nowadays, the membership president just says, "sell tickets." She does talk about its importance, but she is not inspiring. And the people who used to stand up and inspire sales no longer do so. And Fred is slow at producing the email annoucement of the concert that many of us depend on for sending to our friends and coworkers. And so we sell fewer tickets. Perhaps choir leadership thinks that we should have it all under control by now, but the evidence points to the contrary. For one thing, there are new members that have not experienced the ticket-selling focus of the past. For another, and perhaps more important, people tend to think that everything is dandy unless someone tells them that it is not. If the leadership does not talk with us constructively about ticket sales, then we will assume that ticket sales are no longer important and so will relax our efforts. Thanks to Jen for pointing that out.
This is the last year for this particular membership president (as membership president - she will still be singing with us), and I am glad (sounds nastier than I mean, I think). She has worked hard at a thankless and unpaid job, and has made some good changes. But she is not an inspiring or warm person. The previous president (call her AP) is a very intelligent, warm, kind-hearted, poetical, inspiring person. She helpfully talked about working on music at home and selling tickets and proper concert behavior, and she always had a poem to read to us before concerts, which helped us focus on the beauty that we were about to create for our audiences. AP was president for a long time, and got tired of it. Now she is happily just a regular singer, retired from her paying job, and doing quilting for people for money. Not a bad life. The current president (call her K) is also an intelligent woman, and she shows moments of warm-heartedness. Her mind is lively and she has done some good and necessary things for the choir, and she is also tired of serving as president. But she is not, by nature, a friendly person, I think. She is a clique-ish person. And she is not poetical, though she does try to give us inspiration at focus circle before concerts. But she reminds us of proper concert behavior by saying, in an annoyed manner, the same words over and over again. "All page turns are too loud," she says as one quoting an aphorism. Yes, they are, but when you say it like that, people automatically stop caring. AP would talk about ways of turning pages quietly and the importance of doing so. K just blurts out in a stentorious voice, "All page turns are too loud." Not helpful. I guess I shouldn't complain too much about K's unfortunate comparison with AP unless I am willing to step up as the next membership president, which I am not. K has done some things much better than AP, things that make the choir run more smoothly behind the scenes. But I miss AP's warmness, and her understanding that she was working with people, not computers. AP was a teacher and mother (still is a mother). K is a computer programmer. Maybe the differences are not so surprising.
I woke up this morning from a very uncomfortable dream about today's concert. I was still at home on the island when I was supposed to be at the concert hall. I couldn't find my makeup, music, car keys, or other important items, and my body was rebelling in annoying ways as usual in dreams. I had about 5 minutes to get to the ferry if I wanted to get to the concert hall before the concert began. Mom, Dad, and Jenny were all here, being kind of helpful in ineffectual ways. I was crying and all upset because I was completely blowing it. And I had cramps, which didn't help. I finally woke up, and still had cramps, and I got up and found my makeup, and I am going to get every ready to go after I finish this. Talk about a stress dream. It was hot in my room. Too darn hot.
Today is the final concert of the season for my choir. We are performing this show just once, instead of the usual twice, because we are performing at Benaroya Hall (where the Seattle Symphony resides) and it is incredibly expensive. We have not sold enough tickets. It used to be that the leaders of the choir talked about ticket sales in helpful ways at many of the rehearsals, giving creative selling ideas and making it seem romantic to sell tickets. Nowadays, the membership president just says, "sell tickets." She does talk about its importance, but she is not inspiring. And the people who used to stand up and inspire sales no longer do so. And Fred is slow at producing the email annoucement of the concert that many of us depend on for sending to our friends and coworkers. And so we sell fewer tickets. Perhaps choir leadership thinks that we should have it all under control by now, but the evidence points to the contrary. For one thing, there are new members that have not experienced the ticket-selling focus of the past. For another, and perhaps more important, people tend to think that everything is dandy unless someone tells them that it is not. If the leadership does not talk with us constructively about ticket sales, then we will assume that ticket sales are no longer important and so will relax our efforts. Thanks to Jen for pointing that out.
This is the last year for this particular membership president (as membership president - she will still be singing with us), and I am glad (sounds nastier than I mean, I think). She has worked hard at a thankless and unpaid job, and has made some good changes. But she is not an inspiring or warm person. The previous president (call her AP) is a very intelligent, warm, kind-hearted, poetical, inspiring person. She helpfully talked about working on music at home and selling tickets and proper concert behavior, and she always had a poem to read to us before concerts, which helped us focus on the beauty that we were about to create for our audiences. AP was president for a long time, and got tired of it. Now she is happily just a regular singer, retired from her paying job, and doing quilting for people for money. Not a bad life. The current president (call her K) is also an intelligent woman, and she shows moments of warm-heartedness. Her mind is lively and she has done some good and necessary things for the choir, and she is also tired of serving as president. But she is not, by nature, a friendly person, I think. She is a clique-ish person. And she is not poetical, though she does try to give us inspiration at focus circle before concerts. But she reminds us of proper concert behavior by saying, in an annoyed manner, the same words over and over again. "All page turns are too loud," she says as one quoting an aphorism. Yes, they are, but when you say it like that, people automatically stop caring. AP would talk about ways of turning pages quietly and the importance of doing so. K just blurts out in a stentorious voice, "All page turns are too loud." Not helpful. I guess I shouldn't complain too much about K's unfortunate comparison with AP unless I am willing to step up as the next membership president, which I am not. K has done some things much better than AP, things that make the choir run more smoothly behind the scenes. But I miss AP's warmness, and her understanding that she was working with people, not computers. AP was a teacher and mother (still is a mother). K is a computer programmer. Maybe the differences are not so surprising.
I woke up this morning from a very uncomfortable dream about today's concert. I was still at home on the island when I was supposed to be at the concert hall. I couldn't find my makeup, music, car keys, or other important items, and my body was rebelling in annoying ways as usual in dreams. I had about 5 minutes to get to the ferry if I wanted to get to the concert hall before the concert began. Mom, Dad, and Jenny were all here, being kind of helpful in ineffectual ways. I was crying and all upset because I was completely blowing it. And I had cramps, which didn't help. I finally woke up, and still had cramps, and I got up and found my makeup, and I am going to get every ready to go after I finish this. Talk about a stress dream. It was hot in my room. Too darn hot.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Camp was fun; lots of connections; run-on sentences
Camp was lots of fun. It would have been darn near perfect if my wonderful sister Jenny had been there, too. I missed her. Cousin-in-law (hereafter referred to simply as "Cousin") Tyras asked after her. So did others. I could see in Little Cousin Helena's eyes that she, too, wanted to know when she would meet her other cousin. I said to her, sometime!
We saw: a big black bear (Monday night, from the porch, great view), 1 newt, lots of turkeys (young and old), 11 deer (some more, some less), 1 Moccasin Flower (found gleefully by Cousin Carrie), a very busy bluebird couple, towhees, pheobes, lots of tent caterpillars (sadly), lots of Russian Olive (very pretty and sweet-smelling, so probably an invasive, right?), some turtles, little white flowers, little purple flowers, little yellow flowers, bats, lots of whip-poor-wills (heard them, actually), carpenter bees, hummingbirds, piliated woodpecker (but it didn't look like the one in the book), poison ivy, ferns, an enormous number of jack-in-the-pulpits, some wasps, some smallish bees, and many more things that I forget. It smelled good, and it felt good, and we ate good. Boy, did we ever eat good. Paula brought fancy cheese from Rick's cheese shop in Chicago (herbed gouda - YUM, piave, madrigal, stravecchio, stilton, and maybe more), we had lots of wine (spread out over the week, spread out over the week!), bruschetta with the new olive oil, bacon, eggs, pancakes in the mornings (sometimes) (and these people know how to eat pancakes right -with peanut butter and syrup. Whitney puts peanut butter and sugar on hers, which I think is a good idea.), ham, bean soup, corn, watermelon, grilled pork tenderloin, pot roast, chicken turkey goulash with gnocchi, and other things that I forget. It was cool in the mornings and got pretty hot in the afternoons later in the week, and then on Saturday, we had (oh glory be!) a thunderstorm. Maybe it was Friday. It was short and sweet and cooled things down nicely, and most of us sat on the porch and watched it. We got ice cream (almost everybody got Keany Beany Chocolate; only Carrie branched out [as usual] - she got Teaberry, which she said tasted like the pink candies that Grandma used to have, and which most people apparently didn't like, but she did), and took a lot of walks, and played Uno and Pass the Pigs and Gin Rummy and I did cross-stitch and Mom pieced a quilt border and Paula knitted. It was good. The final night, I woke up thinking I heard a bat in the bedroom, which kept me up the rest of the night (as an alternative to the snoring keeping me up), so I wasn't terribly sorry to leave. Still pretty sorry, though.
Now I am home and trying to get back into the swing of things. My choir has a concert on Sunday. If you're in Seattle, you should come! None of you is (are? is), but whatever.
Here is what I wrote to Becky earlier today. She said I could put it here:
"Here's a cool thing, something I intend to blog about, but in case I don't: I am reading three things in my off-time. One is the New Yorker about the Great Wall of China. Very interesting. It's many walls, and nobody really studies it or knows how long it is. all about Mongol hoards. The second is "Another Mexico" by Graham Greene. He didn't like Mexico, and while he is a darn good writer, he is also depressed, depressing, and comes across as really self-righteous. But still, the point is, it's about Mexico. And to tie these two pieces together, I am reading National Geographic about the wall being built between the US and Mexico. It's a lot like the Wall in China. How's that for a nice little triangle that just happened without my planning it at all? Kind of neat. I might even remember something about all these things because of it."
We saw: a big black bear (Monday night, from the porch, great view), 1 newt, lots of turkeys (young and old), 11 deer (some more, some less), 1 Moccasin Flower (found gleefully by Cousin Carrie), a very busy bluebird couple, towhees, pheobes, lots of tent caterpillars (sadly), lots of Russian Olive (very pretty and sweet-smelling, so probably an invasive, right?), some turtles, little white flowers, little purple flowers, little yellow flowers, bats, lots of whip-poor-wills (heard them, actually), carpenter bees, hummingbirds, piliated woodpecker (but it didn't look like the one in the book), poison ivy, ferns, an enormous number of jack-in-the-pulpits, some wasps, some smallish bees, and many more things that I forget. It smelled good, and it felt good, and we ate good. Boy, did we ever eat good. Paula brought fancy cheese from Rick's cheese shop in Chicago (herbed gouda - YUM, piave, madrigal, stravecchio, stilton, and maybe more), we had lots of wine (spread out over the week, spread out over the week!), bruschetta with the new olive oil, bacon, eggs, pancakes in the mornings (sometimes) (and these people know how to eat pancakes right -with peanut butter and syrup. Whitney puts peanut butter and sugar on hers, which I think is a good idea.), ham, bean soup, corn, watermelon, grilled pork tenderloin, pot roast, chicken turkey goulash with gnocchi, and other things that I forget. It was cool in the mornings and got pretty hot in the afternoons later in the week, and then on Saturday, we had (oh glory be!) a thunderstorm. Maybe it was Friday. It was short and sweet and cooled things down nicely, and most of us sat on the porch and watched it. We got ice cream (almost everybody got Keany Beany Chocolate; only Carrie branched out [as usual] - she got Teaberry, which she said tasted like the pink candies that Grandma used to have, and which most people apparently didn't like, but she did), and took a lot of walks, and played Uno and Pass the Pigs and Gin Rummy and I did cross-stitch and Mom pieced a quilt border and Paula knitted. It was good. The final night, I woke up thinking I heard a bat in the bedroom, which kept me up the rest of the night (as an alternative to the snoring keeping me up), so I wasn't terribly sorry to leave. Still pretty sorry, though.
Now I am home and trying to get back into the swing of things. My choir has a concert on Sunday. If you're in Seattle, you should come! None of you is (are? is), but whatever.
Here is what I wrote to Becky earlier today. She said I could put it here:
"Here's a cool thing, something I intend to blog about, but in case I don't: I am reading three things in my off-time. One is the New Yorker about the Great Wall of China. Very interesting. It's many walls, and nobody really studies it or knows how long it is. all about Mongol hoards. The second is "Another Mexico" by Graham Greene. He didn't like Mexico, and while he is a darn good writer, he is also depressed, depressing, and comes across as really self-righteous. But still, the point is, it's about Mexico. And to tie these two pieces together, I am reading National Geographic about the wall being built between the US and Mexico. It's a lot like the Wall in China. How's that for a nice little triangle that just happened without my planning it at all? Kind of neat. I might even remember something about all these things because of it."
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Auction Over, Camp is Next, Work is Pervasive
The auction went pretty well, all things considered. We made more money than ever before, and hopefully did not also spend more money than ever before. We didn't actually lose any items at the auction, which was great. We just didn't know that some things went together when we gave people their stuff at the end of the night. But that happened only twice, which is still better than usual. It was frantic, it was chaotic, I got home at 1:30, but it was okay. It's over and that's great.
Next is Camp. I'm leaving Saturday afternoon, taking a taxi to a hotel near the airport, and then catching a flight out bright and early Sunday morning ... to Cincinnati. And then to State College. And then I expect to have to wait for my parents to show up, because they are picking up a friend who is flying in to BWI. If I had known that they were willing to pick people up at BWI, I would have flown in to BWI and saved myself $300. That would have been nice. I'll be lucky if I get home without shelling out another $300 because my plane is late, I miss my connection, and the airline is stupid. We'll see how that goes.
All my lyrical and impressive thoughts are gone. Here there are only boring, straightforward statements of fact: There is a lot to do before I leave. I have so much work that I can't believe it. And here I am, not doing work. And I didn't do work yesterday evening either. Or the previous evening, though that was rehearsal and that is a kind of work. The kind you pay to participate in. Yeah. On the other hand, much of my work is in the proposal stage right now, and it is conceivable that none of it will be funded. That would not be good, although I would still have enough work to keep me busy all year. The really big new project, the one that John calculated would take 6 man-months (or person-months, thank you very much, I am working on this, too) at the very very very least, has a very high chance of being funded. But they didn't know how big a project the statistical side of it would be when they said that. Now we know - it's kind of dissertation-level big. John pointed out the other day that I will be doing the equivalent of 2 or 3 master's theses this year. Then I pointed out that this project is more on the scale of a dissertation. He said, "Yes!" enthusiastically. I said, "At the same time." He said, "Well, yes, that is a problem." Nice of him to notice. Better than being bored, I guess.
But friends of mine have even more to do, which is scary.
Next is Camp. I'm leaving Saturday afternoon, taking a taxi to a hotel near the airport, and then catching a flight out bright and early Sunday morning ... to Cincinnati. And then to State College. And then I expect to have to wait for my parents to show up, because they are picking up a friend who is flying in to BWI. If I had known that they were willing to pick people up at BWI, I would have flown in to BWI and saved myself $300. That would have been nice. I'll be lucky if I get home without shelling out another $300 because my plane is late, I miss my connection, and the airline is stupid. We'll see how that goes.
All my lyrical and impressive thoughts are gone. Here there are only boring, straightforward statements of fact: There is a lot to do before I leave. I have so much work that I can't believe it. And here I am, not doing work. And I didn't do work yesterday evening either. Or the previous evening, though that was rehearsal and that is a kind of work. The kind you pay to participate in. Yeah. On the other hand, much of my work is in the proposal stage right now, and it is conceivable that none of it will be funded. That would not be good, although I would still have enough work to keep me busy all year. The really big new project, the one that John calculated would take 6 man-months (or person-months, thank you very much, I am working on this, too) at the very very very least, has a very high chance of being funded. But they didn't know how big a project the statistical side of it would be when they said that. Now we know - it's kind of dissertation-level big. John pointed out the other day that I will be doing the equivalent of 2 or 3 master's theses this year. Then I pointed out that this project is more on the scale of a dissertation. He said, "Yes!" enthusiastically. I said, "At the same time." He said, "Well, yes, that is a problem." Nice of him to notice. Better than being bored, I guess.
But friends of mine have even more to do, which is scary.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Auction Day
Today is the day (Day) of my choir's big huge fundraisingbenefitauction (seems like a one-word type of thing). We have a big catalog and lots of guests registered, so we hope to make lots of money. I am in charge of item pick-up, which is the process of collecting all the purchased items and putting them all in neatly organized piles so that when people want to leave, we can easily get them their purchases and they can leave happily. It is the last part of the auction experienced by the guests, and so if it goes well, they may think well of us, and if it goes poorly, they will hate us forever. It is usually very chaotic. No stress. Last year it went pretty well because we had so many people working on it. This year we have lots of people working on it, too. But last year I was not in charge, and this year I am because the woman who is usually in charge (the lovely Judy) is in Peru. So I'm a little nervous. I got up early so I could get there bright and early, and then got an email this morning saying I don't have to get there before noon - hallelujah! So I am wiling away my extra hour on the internet.
I just joined Classmates.com. I joined under the name I use now (i.e., Rebecca) rather than the name I used then (Becky), and now I can't figure out how to change it. I assume that is why so many people have double entries. Either they forgot that they had already joined, or they couldn't figure out how to edit their profile. The people I am really interested in from high school either have not joined or have not done a profile. Most people are married with 1-3 children and are conservative in their political views. Thank God some are single, childless, and liberal. And no longer living in Illinois, those left-leaning anti-family people.
I gotta see what ferry I have to take. I hope this auction thing goes well. Tomorrow I sleep.
I just joined Classmates.com. I joined under the name I use now (i.e., Rebecca) rather than the name I used then (Becky), and now I can't figure out how to change it. I assume that is why so many people have double entries. Either they forgot that they had already joined, or they couldn't figure out how to edit their profile. The people I am really interested in from high school either have not joined or have not done a profile. Most people are married with 1-3 children and are conservative in their political views. Thank God some are single, childless, and liberal. And no longer living in Illinois, those left-leaning anti-family people.
I gotta see what ferry I have to take. I hope this auction thing goes well. Tomorrow I sleep.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Congratulations, Becky!
Congratulations to Becky P. for passing the big huge nasty oral exam with flying colors, at the top rank, and no doubt in record time, too! Yay!!!
Thursday, May 3, 2007
too much
Have you ever had those times when you ignore things like daily mail and cooking and cleaning and all those little entropy-fighting things that don't take that much time but are kind of a pain? And then when you do finally get to them, they take for-bleedin'-EVER? Because you haven't been keeping up? Of course you have. I know my readers. I know we all do this. Anyone who doesn't do this is some evil demon in almost-human form. This time, on top of all the mail and cooking and cleaning and all, I have birthday cards that I bought after the pertinent birthday and that I have yet to send. So I must send them, because then I will feel better. And maybe the recipient will, too, because they will know that I have not dumped them as friends and first cousins once removed. That reminds me that I have not responded to my own birthday card from a college friend who I really, really owe a letter. At least an email. It's so hard to email when you haven't emailed for so long. Either you write a tome that takes an hour and a half to write and 20 minutes to read, possibly boring the friend to a sock-free state, or else you write two sentences that basically say I'm still alive and how are you? Then the sock is on the other foot, or the email guilt is in the other inbox. And the friend writes back immediately with a nicely detailed (but not too detailed) description of her life and plans and all, and it is the right length and she even includes a photo, and then it's all back on you. aargh.
A good friend of mine has a big horrible nasty ORAL exam tomorrow - GOOD LUCK, FRIEND!!!! You'll do GREAT!!! And I will send and am already sending good thoughts and prayers your way, so that you will think clearly and calmly and creatively (and I know you will), and that when it is all over, you will wait until you get home before you break into hysterics. But if you don't wait, that's okay, too. Always remember that DONE IS GOOD! :-)
And "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" was actually pretty good. The writing wasn't top notch, but it got better, and who am I to criticize? A loud and annoying yet somehow admirable (as in, one should admire her but she drives most of us crazy) woman at choir was complaining about the butt of someone on "Dance with the Stars" (or whatever) the other day, and I thought that she really was not one to criticize anyone's butt. Hers is quite large. Not larger than mine, mind you, but not the seat of a butt critic. So perhaps I shouldn't criticize the writing in DSOFYYS ... but I do anyway. The story was pretty good. Had everything in it but the kitchen sink, actually. The message was good. Then I read Terry Pratchett, and while it ("Eric") was not one of his best, it was still better than most stuff out there, and it made me laugh. I don't know what I'll do when I have read all the Terry Pratchetts. I might go insane.
A good friend of mine has a big horrible nasty ORAL exam tomorrow - GOOD LUCK, FRIEND!!!! You'll do GREAT!!! And I will send and am already sending good thoughts and prayers your way, so that you will think clearly and calmly and creatively (and I know you will), and that when it is all over, you will wait until you get home before you break into hysterics. But if you don't wait, that's okay, too. Always remember that DONE IS GOOD! :-)
And "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" was actually pretty good. The writing wasn't top notch, but it got better, and who am I to criticize? A loud and annoying yet somehow admirable (as in, one should admire her but she drives most of us crazy) woman at choir was complaining about the butt of someone on "Dance with the Stars" (or whatever) the other day, and I thought that she really was not one to criticize anyone's butt. Hers is quite large. Not larger than mine, mind you, but not the seat of a butt critic. So perhaps I shouldn't criticize the writing in DSOFYYS ... but I do anyway. The story was pretty good. Had everything in it but the kitchen sink, actually. The message was good. Then I read Terry Pratchett, and while it ("Eric") was not one of his best, it was still better than most stuff out there, and it made me laugh. I don't know what I'll do when I have read all the Terry Pratchetts. I might go insane.
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