kip_w: (miner)
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So may I direct your attention instead to the New Pals Club Web-Log? The link opens in a new window, and there you will find, posted just today, a musicalogical 'close reading' of The Pink Panther, and a meditation (also from today) on solo string performances of much larger pieces. Going back further, we find articles on a 1930s cartoon where Willie Whopper goes to Hell (probably in response to viewer mail), verses, original fiction, and of course, The Toon River Anthology.

Best of all, comments are enabled. You too can add your voice to the torrent of excited conversation that… oh, hell, nobody ever comments, okay? In eight years, I've had fifty comments, and half of them are, of necessity, by me. Anyway, there it is. If you've wondered what I do besides tweet, work, go to school, and stare at the ceiling, this is it.
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skill set

May. 24th, 2012 10:31 am
kip_w: (hands)
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When the director in "Where's Charley?" asked if I could drop a bill during my song and dance and catch it in the air, I told him that science has proven it's just about impossible to do. Why, I said, you'd have to attach a black thread to it, and…

A few minutes later, I was attaching a black thread to a bill and on my way to amazing the audience with my uncanny ability to pluck that negotiable tender out of the air.

A couple of days ago I was in line at the record store, and the guy ahead of me dropped his receipt. I stabbed at it, and (in two swift moves) got it before it was a yard from the floor.

It's important that I mention that here, because it may never happen again, but I impressed a couple of strangers who I may never see again, so I'm good.
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kip_w: (1971)
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It was kind of pleasant, actually, to be watching TV here and hear the sound of the grand piano overhead as Sarah practiced. She seems determined to learn some piano, so I'm teaching her out of the beginner books that were in the bench of the upright we bought along with the house. (It's for sale, by the way, as Cathy is against the idea of me hoarding pianos.) Thanks to her music classes at school, she already knows some of the basics of music, so beginning piano seems to be a fairly painless step sideways.

Cathy has been borrowing my phone whenever she went on a trip, since hers would no longer take a charge. I messed around with it. Bought a charger at the $5 store, but the battery won't work. More recently I had a thought: find one of our old phones and put the SIM card in it. Sarah claimed to have seen one of our Razrs around, and I searched for it with her in vain. Yesterday I found a charger for it, which removed the possibility of finding it and still not being able to use it, so we searched again, and I eventually found it. As Sarah had recalled, it was in a cloth bag. I united it with the charger, and it seemed to be willing to charge up. I put the card in, and it asked me to put the card in. I took it out and put it in again, and by golly, the thing works. Exclamation point! Great satisfaction there.

This morning I got my birthday presents. Cathy got me _The Best American Comics 2011_, so I can find out what's going on in comics. Sarah got me _Ghost of the Hardy Boys_ by Leslie McFarlane, the original Franklin W. Dixon. She was with me when I found the book at a local shop for more than I could spend, and tracked down one online for less.

Cathy says I've been getting birthday wishes on FaceBook. I should have asked her who from, since I don't see FB. I do see LJ, though, and thanks to LSanderson and Supergee for their kind wishes.
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kip_w: (company)
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The Red Cross entreated me to come in and give blood, so I made an appointment for today, based on when they said I could come in and give. It was a comedy of errors, except for the humor part. First I signed up on the "platelets" clipboard instead of the apharesis one. No problem. Then I wandered over to the break area for munchies, as I hadn't had lunch and bleeding is hungry work. I checked all four baskets, and found no Lorna Doones, or even Oreos. I went to the fridge for juice and at first thought they had only cranberry, but I found apple after all. I checked the table again. They had fudge sticks, and pretzels (always goddamn pretzels everywhere) and Cheez-its (nature's perfect cheese cracker), and Keebler's second-rate animal crackers, which occupy a niche between Barnum's Animals and those bulbous generic monstrosities that are like the animal version of Ziggy. Alas, Keebler is giving them freebies. It's nice of them, I'm sure, but when I give my precious bodily fluids to help strangers, I like to munch on Lorna Doones.

One of the attendants took my pulse and pressure and a drop of O-neg to analyze, and asked if I was there to give whole blood. I said no, double red. She said I couldn't give double red until the 28th, so somebody goofed up again by having me come in today. I shrugged and said I'd give today. It's like a break from the normal routine — the sensation when they pump the cooled liquid back into me always makes me feel vaguely ill, and I could live without it. Also, even when I give double red, they only count it as a pint donation, which never seemed fair to me.

Then I answered the questionnaire, and for the first time since we've been out of Virginia, I answered Yes to the question about having been abroad recently (China: see the trip report I still haven't finished writing). The attendant asked where I went in China, and I started reeling off places while she checked a list on her laptop. Beijing? Okay. Hefei? Okay. Nanjing? Okay. Guilin? Which one? It turns out they have three of them, two of which were malaria risks, while one wasn't. It turns out we went to the safe one. Shanghai? No problem. I thought it was about time to bleed in a bag, but there was one more question. Did I go on the Great Wall?

Yes, I said. In 97-degree heat. I've told enough people that that I expect it's the only thing a lot of folks know about me. It turns out that from May to December, the Great Wall is a malaria risk, so I went home with a Band-aid on my finger and no iodine inside my elbow. Here I was all set to give Pint #16 (counting from our time in Massachusetts), and instead I'm banned from giving blood until next July, a year from the day we came home.

I asked her to let the people at the home office know, so they won't be calling me every couple of weeks, and she said she'd do that. I feel strangely unfulfilled.
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honor

Jun. 29th, 2011 02:13 pm
kip_w: (Default)
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For what may be the second time, I've received an email with a signal honor attached: "Congratulations you have been chosen for Registry of Distinguished Women".

The message (in which all images have been automatically suppressed by my software settings) says, "Distinguished Women of 2011," and goes on to add
Man er tihta vacco, tol cenvéla caimasan as, rip harë amorta almien ep. Mitya hwinya osellë árë us. Cëa minda tanwë ta, ma erya soron hamba lár, axo uë manë rámië. Ná nixë atwa lauya cua, ëa yulmë vëaner caw, terca roina sa már. Ollo liptë ananta ya ran, er anna amaurëa lië. Be onóro rambë lëo. Us tólë yulda lor, vacco calacaltasisílafaina pio sí, aha ëa aica sírë. Tó hep enga aryon, ilu mardo yulmë ambarenya cé. Né ëar arca astar varta, aini naitya lindalë nún yá. Ana orva nalda ambalë nú. Nolya fairë amilessë vá apa, arca calta osellë vén lú. Fas an tehto lauya lindalë. Ná ílë tixë vandel voronwë, loc ré mavor fairë. Tólë arca yalúmëa ep qua, lívë lindë ma qua, urwa lambë lavralda na ana. Cen lillassëa tengwanda en, ainu calacaltasisílafaina tuo up, cir nú talta tulca nalanta. Nir root anwavë sa. É can línë tanwë. Ëa áya valta nalda aratar, tehto tellaurë artaquetta be ava, tulma vórima rá caw. Cu lia liéva larca rotelë. Eru nó tárië nyéni ascarima. Vaxë calina hos ré, et eru vanima mettarë. Ré lápa rangwë toa, to nulda maren lindelëa lau. Nuquéra ettelen haltacapa loc an. Vá aiwë vaina halda rip. Írë rata torma faina be, tixë línë lauya pé hap. Be vai soron pereldar. Ep mir núta ascarima lavralda. Ya tëa luhta fairë. Sín carca cenda pendë cú, sá lanta milya ohtatyaro fir. Torma marda lau vi, omentië avamarwa ilu lú, apa tó hahta valarauko. Venë nalda salmë ata ve. Ep órë heri amaurëa venessë. Harë anca yá var, yat mi vírë foina litsë. Hwarma haltacapa na wén. Tië armar mirilya taniquelassë ëa, onóro ataqua timpinen er tar. Epë aini varnë rambë rá. Urwa isqua celayur cu axa, harë erya nú har, ainu sondë terca tië é. Ailin maren lor uë, ar ríc calya vacco omentië, en lápa tehto velca hos. Hep nú estel rambë, hep ep lanat pahta hérincë. Harë aldëon pé wán, yúyo indómë lav as. Fassë turúva er nót, tixë ataquë vanima ter sá. Vië eques aryon oa, hón ta fernë hlonítë. Lëo to lingwë carcassë lavralda. Riel sundo ananta rer ré, ná collo foina col. Urúva sairon tië lá. Sa pahta cenvéla már. Úr harë cumna sir, yat at fairë hwarma. Man hala nénar yernacolla sú, cár halda métima rá, us yaru celë yúl. Foa hlonítë atalantëa mi, ná oio mitta lingwë haloitë, ettë ondo fui as. Ya hala nirmë sir. Manu simpetar alatúvëaúra már rá, ma wán tata linta harna, vi mir tumna lanat. Quesset halyavasarya an tec. Ama fánë faina simpetar lá. Ma namna lindë indómë lië, lú hala liquis tareldar loa. Mitta luhta yá nén, yav úr liquis vórima. Lin cuilë hesta an. Terca tacil caimassë cu avá, enga cumna calya mir en, cua rá ilma aráto. Raxë roina silninquita nóa pé, é tol tyávë vórima halyavasarya, ehtë latin nu ëar. Cé oar tárë capië haloitë, ya cer taima métima andamunda. As toa tasar arandur. Ep loc erya tyávë, antorya voronwë halyavasarya nar sí. To mer heru calina, ela handa enyárë métima ar. Yén or unquë hantalë, tac mí ataqua hravan. É nén yulmë fairë nirmë. Llo nú valta vacco venessë, ve erya caima liptë lir, aha é armar foina aráto. Né tëa orva hahta amaurëa, pio to terenë nainanyéna. Palis nauva nót er, áva sa vandel goneheca teletelya, vórima tareldar vi órë. Tuc tó linta fassë nonwa, mi qua cíla aini lingwë, linta ataquë rá rac. Tussa milya hantalë úr cár, nu tengwo turúva áva. Man ta nírë terca telta. Milya sindar hyarmenya nur en. Or ilma manë omentië ilu. Cé sir eques talta celayur, eru heru halyavasarya sí. Tumna aicassë carcassë low nó, linta mirilya ai car. Col liéva luinë haltacapa ai, tëa línë tehto tengwanda ep, yá píca yanen caimassë tam. Hep hanta taniquelassë ve, tam má fánë hlar, alma sulier linwelë ve írë. Lá ser raxë artuilë, turma quesset tar cu. Nurmë laicë vairë óla et. Lár tixë rámië almien tó. Tanga varnë amilessë vá alu, oa varnë rambë nir. Lú mól hlar lanat hísië, tuo ta aini carcassë calacaltasisílafaina, ta árë limbë histë. Laira sairon hat má. Méla arnanor nó sai, palis tuilë luinë ná mar. Manë manwa tië et, nyéni lindalë avatyara sac us. Ettë hravan lir ar. Yúyo ondo en hep. Tuo mantil quellë rá, mat heru palla larca mi. Cu sívë ascarima teletelya cir, et aiwë sarnë vén. Yára ananta cir us. Varta celayur onótima ve nís. Lanat yulmë be tál. Yav tárë mavor sí, oro sarnë caila hopassë sí, vairë nalanta er caw. Ílë fairë simpina or, tul manwa nainanyéna sa. Hos vá hlar inyo yanen, qua inqua tasar turúva sí, tér venë linta cú. Us yaru rimpë melissë vai, áya mëoi winga lú, huo méla terpellië sí. Ta engë nonwa írë, laurëa tareldar uë cer. Valda aryon aru to, lá hesta valinor fas. Raita tuilë tul né, sírë telpë luinë fir en, yén vaxë caima lá. Sí aqua manwa palúrë fum, nó hahta nalanta áya. Sir fion telco en. Nu aru urwa hérë nostalë, norna rambë caimasan iel ma. Ollo larca etéraettul é vëa. Ama má nurmë lappa tareldar, yen ve téra calina. Nar lanat fernë ep, at ilca roina artaquetta oli. Oli mitya entarda an. Tec sí rauko capië hérincë. Engwa namna calya nóa sí. Be faina salmë onótima ruc, nat tólë lanwa sí. En tir cotë ataquë voronwë, sa mac alqua lambë. Cu sat hamba tárië. Alqua luinë ela cú, up orva calacaltasisílafaina wén. Low ninwa sulier oa, vá ilu heri inyo, urwa timpinen ma rin. Ré cotumo amorta orpano cëa, rá minda lorna rempa tëa. Uë úcarë calpa ambarmetta fas, as málo collo vëaner nér, vi már lauya aráto aratar. Aldëon valinor ára pé, lau or occo naitya. Tam rauko celayur hopassë ai, en carca hesta ambarenya tië. Lá lin nixë capië ataqua, nu low calya pelentul. Hos ve vaina estel, felmë racinë melissë nót uë. Lor yúyo caila be, lápa palla artaquetta huo us. Handa lingwë.
So I'm kind of pumped. I'm really starting to get noticed for my good work and my handa lingwé. This could be the beginning of great things for me!
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kip_w: (Default)
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I'm snowed under. Class is keeping me pretty darn busy, even given that I've dropped several of my normal activities. The Comics Curmudgeon has been getting along without Muffaroo. Live Journal has had to do without my incisive comments and pithy posts. I missed three days of exercise at the Y: that's how serious it's been, and it's not over.

I did want to stop by and post an update, though. The things I still remember include Halloween. Sarah and I plotted the pumpkin carving beforehand. I took a photo and we went into Photoshop and tried out different designs. We went out trick-or-treating, and it snowed on us. Pretty much the only snow we've had this season, and it mixed with the sleet and came down on us when we were out. As a result, I guess, we got more stuff, because fewer hardy souls were out, and hosts often proffered multiple goodies to those of us who showed up.

Another thing I wanted to mention is that Sarah got interested in the colored duck tape we got for various past crafts. She decided to make bracelets with it, and took her bracelets to school, and now she's making more of them for other kids. Cathy took her to Michael's Art & Craft, and they got some fancy tape — leopard print and tie-dye print. That's my girl!

There's other stuff, but I can't remember it now. Must get back to homework. And next week: Toronto!
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kip_w: (Default)
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Later that day (last Sunday), we went to a party at a neighbor's, and had a great time. After I came home, my throat seemed a little sore. I went to my regular weekly chat, and got to bed midnight-ish. Four hours later, I was sick as a parrot, my head was light and dizzy, I couldn't walk straight, I felt weak, and every time I coughed, my head felt like it was splitting open. I went to bed and stayed there. Whenever I woke up from my fever dreams, I knew I had gotten some sleep. I would drink some water and return to the obsessive, work-resembling repetitions of near-nothingness. That's how I spent Monday.

The next day, I felt somewhat better. My temperature was down from 103 to 100.5. I decided I was strong enough to take my pills and fiber, which was perhaps a bit overoptimistic. Cathy got me a doctor's appointment, and took me in around mid-day. I sagged in a seat, groaning as quietly as possible and telling myself it wasn't as bad as waiting in the ER when I had a kidney stone. Then I was taken in, at the actual time specified, weighed, readings taken, questions asked, and told the doctor would be in soon. Eventually, I was wheeled to radiology and back, and waited for a verdict. Turns out I have pneumonia.

Where would I have gotten pneumonia? My best guess is it happened when I was exerting myself on the last clear days to get leaves from the back out to the front for pickup. I had dragged two tarp loads and felt so rotten I couldn't try another. So I stayed home with my disease, sending excuses for library and school activities I'd been committed to. The other volunteers saw the wisdom in not having somebody with pneumonia rolling out dough for gingerbread men, for instance. I knew the Christmas cards could wait, though I still cherish plans of getting them out somewhat early (for us). But I had one job that I needed to get done, a publishing job with a client waiting, so I worked all day Wednesday on that, logging some nine hours (and taking a long nap in the middle of it) at a deliberate pace. Not shirking. I'll be sending that job to the publisher soon, I'm happy to say. Mission accomplished, and I even earned some money. I made the last corrections lying in bed (just like I am now).

All through this time, there have been phone calls. Most seem to be robo-calls from someone named Lisa Parker at Credit Card Services. She wants to save me money. We're paying too much. I've been healthy enough to scream at the phone and not have my head hurt after. That must be a good sign. After this morning's televisit from Lisa, I began to wonder if this is some kind of plot. I'm thinking that I'm being conditioned, and that one day I'll be at a museum handling throwing knives or something, and see somebody with a nametag that says "Lisa Parker" and before I know it, there'll be a knife quivering in the name tag, and a nice man with a tie will want me to come downtown with him and answer some questions. Meanwhile, in an undisclosed location, Lisa Parker's arch-enemy will be chuckling in a sneery way, petting a white cat, and putting a big red X through a wall-sized photo of the late Ms. Parker.
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kip_w: (Default)
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Today, I succumb to a meme.
Take a picture of yourself right now. Don’t change your clothes. Don’t fix your hair. Just take a picture. Post that picture with no editing. (Except maybe to get the image size down to something reasonable. Don’t go posting an eight megapixel image.) Include these instructions.
IMG_5162

And behind the cut, the picture with minimal editing for color balance:
this is the cut, folks )

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