Why is it that when I suggest that maybe we don’t want potential sleeper cells coming into the country disguised as refugees, I’m branded a racist? Seems to me France and Belgium just made that mistake, and paid dearly for it.
And where is the outstretched welcoming hand from the wealthy Arab countries? Oh right, they have a tradition to maintain – Gaza.
Slept well, woke up a little early, got to work a little early, ran a test case, but am being blocked from finishing because of the musical chairs nature of the lab machines which have the licensed analyzer software which is needed to run the tests. I need to be able to run them for an hour, but too many other people need to use the same program for me to do that.
Lunchtime I went to the TechCU to deposit a pair of checks from my Key;point account, but the machine couldn’t read them. Had to wait for a banker.
Not hungry, so I drove to a park and enjoyed the clear skies and read from the Kindle.
Looked into Puerto Vallarta in January. Not sure I really want to go.
Looked into Phoenix/Grand Canyon for Jesus Day, but figured stuff would be closed.
I *am* booked for NYE in Reno, though.
Looked up plumbers, found two possibles. Small job – get the water pressure up in the master bathroom sink. The tub & shower have a strong feed, but the sink is a trickle. Annoying. Maybe I’ll phone one tomorrow.
Home, disappointed that Tivo didn’t record PTI. Watched South Park and Dr. Who instead. Way too much monologue shouting. But the last line killed.
Speaking of lines, I’m addicted for the time being to pieces of a song from Sunset Blvd:
With one look I can break your heart
With one look I play every part
With one smile I'm the girl next door
Or the love that you've hungered for
When I speak it's with my soul
I can play any role
Yes, with one look I put words to shame
Just one look sets the screen aflame
I don’t like the mix and match form of the song, or the bridge music. But I love the message – silent film stars had to be real actors. To Norma Desmond, words are a crutch.
Finally got the munchies, steamed up a trip of pork buns, and sliced a little black forest cake for dessert.
Pulled the German chocolate cake out of the fridge, cut it into wedges, took one wedge out and put it in the fridge, the rest went into the trunk of the car to be a birthday gift from me to my cow-orkers.
Baby sister emailed that no, I had not sent her the story, so a pdf of Mary Robinette Kowal’s The Lady Astronaut of Mars is in the ether to her. She’s a retired Navy engineer, I think it will speak to her.
Plans for tomorrow:
- Home, veg