Just wanted to wish you all a very happy New Year.

Enjoy the evening and I'll see ya soon.

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I don't generally do public service announcements.

I might ask you to consider donating money to a charitable cause, but I understand if you choose not to do so. I try to be a live and let live type of gal.

Today, however, is not one of those days when I'm going to live and let live. I will fully expect you to do what I say, or you will suffer my wrath. Which, along with the consequences of your actions, will make for one hell of a one-two punch.

Tonight is New Year's Eve. The night when there is actually something to celebrate at midnight. This is also night when people who don't normally frequent parties and bars go out and binge like a frat boy performing a keg stand.

They hire babysitters or corrall family members to look after their wee ones. They made dinner reservations months ago. They look forward to parties they've been invited to, wondering what sort of liquor they should take as a host present. They get worked up over the prospect of a night out, sans children, sans responsibility, sans any sort of sense they usually let run their lives. This is the night they let loose.

In other words, tonight, as the husband so aptly phrases it, is Amateur's Night.

And it is the night when he, as a former professional drunk driver with the resume to prove it, absolutely refuses to go out.

Ever since I started this blog I have danced around the edges of the husband's woes. A wee bit of disclosure here, a wee bit there. But never have I unloaded the whole story. No more. To get you to do what I want, full disclosure is necessary.

I will aim for brevity. I don't think it's possible, though. more...

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The Great German poet, Goethe, who also lived through a crisis of freedom, said to his generation: "What you have inherited from your fathers, earn over again for yourselves or it will not be yours." We inherited freedom. We seem unaware that freedom has to be remade and re-earned in each generation of man.

---Adlai Stevenson

We support you.

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Jerry Orbach has died of prostate cancer at age 69.

I enjoyed his work on Law and Order. Lennie Briscoe was quite a character and Orbach made the most of him. Given Orbach's dramatic chops, it was quite a surprise to find out, years after the fact, that he provided the voice for a candlestick named Lumiere in Beauty and the Beast, and, more importantly, that he'd been a big star on Broadway for years.

Mr. Orbach, it appears from my desk in Minneapolis, where we don't get Broadway shows all that often (and when we do, well, Sebastian Bach is in them), was truly an entertainer, in the broadest sense of the word. We don't get too many of those nowadays, hence it's very sad that he's passed on.

My sincere condolences to his family and friends.

{For more: Fausta}

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Bizarre.

{...}Richard Gross, a geophysicist with NASA (news - web sites)'s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in California, theorized that a shift of mass toward the Earth's center during the quake on Sunday caused the planet to spin 3 microseconds, or one millionth of a second, faster and to tilt about an inch (2.5 cm) on its axis.

When one huge tectonic plate beneath the Indian Ocean was forced below the edge of another "it had the effect of making the Earth more compact and spinning faster," Gross said.

Gross said changes predicted by his model probably are too minuscule to be detected by a global positioning satellite network that routinely measures changes in Earth's spin, but said the data may reveal a slight wobble.

The Earth's poles travel a circular path that normally varies by about 33 feet, so an added wobble of an inch (2.5 cm) is unlikely to cause long-term effects, he said.

Wow.

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1 Many years ago, I worked on the ground based software for the space shuttle program. The trajectory calculations involved taking into consideration precession and nutation. Precession means that the north pole moves in a little circle, and nutation means that while it's moving in a bigger circle, it's also moving in a smaller circle. Most people think of the north pole as relatively fixed, but the reality is more complex.

Posted by: Douglas at December 30, 2004 02:46 AM (/XmMl)

2 Wow. Smart people are reading my blog I would have thought the north pole was static, too, but since it is just a big hunk of ice, I suppose it would be susceptible to movement. Interesting stuff. Thanks for chiming in.

Posted by: Kathy at December 30, 2004 01:25 PM (E0v6D)

3 Ok, the husband just explained what you meant to me. Meaning my previous statement about the pole being a big chunk of ice is completely wrong. But it's still interesting.

Posted by: Kathy at December 30, 2004 01:29 PM (E0v6D)

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...the Clones should win the Independence Bowl this fine, fine evening.

Woohoo!

And you wanna know what makes our win even more satisfying?

The college team I grew up rooting for, but whose school I wouldn't even think of attending, The Nebraska Cornhuskers didn't even get invited to a bowl game this year. What's even funnier is that when they played in the Independence Bowl two years ago they lost. Before the game, everyone in the state was ashamed that their beloved Huskers were playing at such a lame bowl in the first place. Then to lose that game... weeeel.

This year, the UNL AD fired Frank Solich because (and I paraphrase bady) Nebraska Football wasn't mediocre. Solich, in his opinion, was mediocre, hence worth firing. Solich had much to overcome when Osborne left and was, in my humble opinion, remodeling the football program into one that would serve the school well in the years to come. More speed. More passing. That sort of thing. This is no longer the Big 8, but rather the Big XII---with different schools who had different ways of playing the game. The Blackshirts can only do so much: you must have an actual offense that doesn't revolve solely around that dolt Eric Crouch. An I-formation offense is outdated these days. Solich knew this, recruited differently and arranged the program around his ideas--and was shitcanned for his trouble. It was taking too much time. They needed to win!

Ever since they won back-to-back National Championships, Nebraska fans have morphed from humble fans who simply wanted their team to win to the greediest and most demanding fans in college football. Excepting the southern schools, of course.

Like I wrote in the "about me" thingy over on the side, I have a love/hate thing going with Husker football. I was a fan for many years for the simple fact there is nothing else worth rooting for in Nebraska other than the Huskers. That's just who you root for and you get used to it over the span of your young life. Besides it was fun being a Husker fan. You got to bitch about Osborne never passing on a first down. You got to whine and moan about Oklahoma and compare Barry Switzer to the anti-Christ. And it was very satisfying when they actually made it to the Orange Bowl to compete for the National Championship after so many years of being shut out by the AP Poll. Of course it sucked when pass interference wasn't called on Miami (FL) on a two-point conversion that would have allowed us to win, but hey...that's just a part of the game, eh?

While I adored the Huskers while I was growing up, and will still root for them today (providing they're not playing the Clones), it was nonetheless a tough transition when I started school at Iowa State. I went from rooting for the best team in the Big Eight to rooting for the worst. It was very confusing. "Losing? What's losing?" "Whaddya mean the field goal kicker blew it? He only had twenty yards to overcome? And the wind was at his back!" "How is it possible to fumble on the snap? Twice in two frickin' plays?" This says nothing of how I was treated---being a Nebraskan in Iowa. Some of it I brought on myself: I earned serious glares of contempt and wore a very red face when I was in the student stands at Ames and, not thinking, let the words, "Go Huskers!" slip out of my mouth during the Iowa State-Nebraska game. But most of it was undeserved. After all, if Iowa State wanted a winning football program, it was apparent to everyone and their red-headed-stepbrother that what was needed was a new coach. Walden had to be fired. He sucked. There was no getting around it. It wasn't my fault that the Athletic Department couldn't get their shit together in this respect and the Huskers kept beating them as a result.

But I survived, and when, in 1993, Iowa State finally beat the Huskers for the first time in God-only-knows how long, I cheered right along with my fellow Clones' fans. (I still regret not partaking in the festivities. Sigh. Where was I that weekend, you ask? In Omaha, of course.) And then the miracle happened: Walden was fired, and Iowa State finally started competing. Now it's, indeed, a ball game between the two schools. I will always root for the Clones, because it's my alma mater. Yet, like I wrote, I have a love/hate thing going with Nebraska football. I love Nebraska's program, the tradition, the willingness to shoot for the stars. Yet I hate how damn greedy everyone has become in Nebraska since they tasted success.

Of course I catch shit to this very day for having jumped ship. So does my sister, another Iowa State graduate. Our family gives us crap: our brothers in particular, which is ironic as only one of the four attended UNL and the most rabid fan in the lot graduated from Creighton. My Dad stays silent on the issue, but I know where his loyalties lie and it's not in Ames. Mom cheers on the Clones most of the time, only because she's Mom and no one dares to criticize her on her football picks other than my father. And we all know he's biased, so...

So, knowing all of this, can you honestly blame me for being very happy the Clones won this night? And that, for this season, completely put the Huskers in the shade? Nope. Revenge is sweet. It may have been a hard fought victory tonight, and the entire season for that matter. As I see it, Nebraska's greediness has been their downfall. As one who's been rooting for a struggling team for fifteen years and who has noted that said team did the work to get better, instead of simply expecting the best to be served to them on a silver platter, well, it's pretty darn sweet that the Clones topped off their season with a bowl win.

/chortles of glee.

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Susan Sontag, dead at age 71.

I'm not going to say anything nasty about this woman because I believe it's wrong to speak ill of the dead---particularly when they've just died, but...

...is it too much to hope that Chomsky's on his last legs, too?

I'm an awful, awful person. I know this already.

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Forbes seems to be a bit worried about RSS Feeds. (registration required)

{...}By Internet standards RSS is ancient, invented circa 1997, but it is just now catching on, in part because of the millions of blogs constantly generating new content and in part because of new RSS search services like Feedster.com that sort through the missives like an e-mail reader. Technorati.com is now monitoring more than 5 million RSS-enabled blogs. Yahoo's free MyYahoo service, revamped in September, offers a built-in RSS reader. Microsoft is tinkering with its own. Google is pushing a similar syndication technology called Atom. Forrester Research analyst Charlene Li guesses that 2 million people are reading RSS deliveries regularly. (Forbes.com broadcasts 43 different feeds.)

You need a Web service or reader software to grab an RSS feed. Point one to a Web site and you're done. Much hype has swirled around RSS' presumed ability to allow blogs to subvert big media. That's a romantic presumption. The likelier disruption will come in areas such as classifieds, search and e-commerce. RSS lets big companies increase their reach-Amazon.com now streams catalog updates to its Web resellers-while letting little guys into the game. LiveDeal, a new Ebay competitor, touts its use of RSS as its differentiating factor. Users don't have to keep coming back to its site to check for new items.

RSS-based searchers Technorati, Topix, Feedster and DayPop look for instantly updated material, thus providing a different slice of the Web than Google does, one based on freshness rather than relevancy. Down the road, online advertising might mutate into something wrapped around RSS streams-if fewer people surf news sites or use traditional search services. Feedster has already started incorporating sponsored links with its RSS headlines.{...}

Well, geez, Forbes. Maybe if I didn't have to register to read your content and then get nailed with three popups, I wouldn't be thinking about switching over to RSS. This, of course, doesn't mention my travails in having to find the small "skip ad" button on the full page ad you forced on me before I could register, or the annoying ad on the page which, without my consent, started playing some very loud chatter hocking Sybase's wares. But I'm not really bothered by the ads. I can deal with them. What does bother me is that I'm still using Internet Explorer (despite the husband's desperate pleas for me to switch to Mozilla), and as such, there are holes in my browser. Through these holes your advertisements tried to insert spyware onto my machine. Fortunately, I have Spybot running on my machine and it blocked the insertion of two data mining cookies. Malware bothers me greatly. And it is through sites like yours---ones with an overwhelming amount of advertising---that most people's machines become overloaded with data mining cookies, that not only invade their privacy in the name of market research, but also cause machines to crash and burn.

I opened myself up to all of this abuse because I wanted to link to one lousy article that I found interesting and that I'd originally read in the dead-tree edition of your magazine.

RSS skips right past all of this and gets to the good stuff. And you're worried about how it might affect e-commerce? Well, might I suggest if you dialed down your advertising to a state less resembling a forcefully inserted anal probe, perhaps you wouldn't have to be worried about how RSS feeds could screw with the current e-commerce model?

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Michele has an exhaustive list of ways you can help.

While I'm sure these are all reputable organizations, who want to help, I prefer to link to the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies. They know what they are doing because, sadly, they've done it before and it's very likely that your money will go to helping those most in need and will get there quickly.

The infrastructure is in place---use it.

C'mon people. I realize Christmas was hard on everyone's budget, but we're talking about one of the worst natural disasters to strike in our lifetimes. The bodies are washing up on the beach faster than they can count them. That this earthquake affected some of the poorest people on the planet makes the situation worse than it already is.

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Robert's on the verge of despair with my view of Ring for Jeeves.

The hallmark of the Bertie and Jeeves stories is the fact that they're told as first person narratives - as related by Bertie. (Ring for Jeeves and one short story are the sole exceptions.) The joy of the writing is the way in which Plum unfolds the plots in Bertie's particular jargon, which is a collection of half-remembered quotes from school, advertising jingles, news headlines, catch-phrases and slang, and also the way in which he manages to maintain Bertie's half-witted but sympathetic point of view. Jeeves, bless him, is a prop, not a character, whose chief function, aside from serving as the deus ex machina of the plot, is to provide a linguistic foil to Bertie's blather.

The other thing to bear in mind is that Wodehouse's work is light comedy fluff. Exquisitely crafted fluff, but fluff nonetheless, a kind of musical without the music. Searching too deeply for meaning or motive, or trying to judge any of the characters in real world terms, is the equivalent of poking holes in a souffle to find out what's inside. Poof!

(The business about the language, by the way, is why I dislike the Jeeves and Wooster tee-vee series so much. It is impossible to translate a written first person narrative to the screen, especially one in which the way the story is told is often funnier than the actual story itself.)

Have no fear, Robbo. I'm not giving up. I've requested that, in addition to the other novels, that The Code of the Woosters and Right Ho, Jeeves be delivered as well. I think a first-person narrative would serve to put Jeeves in the proper light and I look forward to hearing from Bertie. Hopefully I won't find these storylines to be as boring and predictable as Ring for Jeeves. Anyone who can craft prose as cleverly as Wodehouse surely cannot be lacking in the plot department all the blasted time.

At least, that would be my hope.

Nonetheless, I was curious to see if anyone else had blasphemed Wodehouse like myself. I'm always looking for like-minded people. Yet, while I came up short on the blasphemy (What? Am I the only one to think this way? Good Grief! My one original thought and it disses a much-beloved author? I'm going straight to hell!) what should I come across when I Googled? An article, written by the estimable Hugh Laurie, who played Bertie in the TV series (and who also plays this guy! He's everywhere! Aieeee!) and who, it appears, actually agrees with Robbo about the TV series:

{...}A man came to us - to me and to my comedy partner, Stephen Fry - with a proposition. He asked me if I would like to play Bertram W. Wooster in 23 hours of televised drama, opposite the internationally tall Fry in the role of Jeeves.

"Fiddle," one of us said. I forget which.

"Sticks," said the other. "Wodehouse on television? It's lunacy. A disaster in kit form. Get a grip, man."

The man, a television producer, pressed home his argument with skill and determination.

"All right," he said, shrugging on his coat. "I'll ask someone else."

"Whoa, hold up," said one of us, shooting a startled look at the other.

"Steady," said the other, returning the S. L. with top-spin.

There was a pause.

"You'll never get a cab in this weather," we said, in unison.

And so it was that, a few months later, I found myself slipping into a double-breasted suit in a Prince of Wales check while my colleague made himself at home inside an enormous bowler hat, and the two of us embarked on our separate disciplines. Him for the noiseless opening of decanters, me for the twirling of the whangee.

So the great P. G. was making his presence felt in my life once more. And I soon learnt that I still had much to learn. How to smoke plain cigarettes, how to drive a 1927 Aston Martin, how to mix a Martini with five parts water and one part water (for filming purposes only), how to attach a pair of spats in less than a day and a half, and so on.

But the thing that really worried us, that had us saying "crikey" for weeks on end, was this business of The Words. Let me give you an example. Bertie is leaving in a huff: " 'Tinkerty tonk,' I said, and I meant it to sting." I ask you: how is one to do justice of even the roughest sort to a line like that? How can any human actor, with his clumsily attached ears, and his irritating voice, and his completely misguided hair, hope to deliver a line as pure as that? It cannot be done. You begin with a diamond on the page, and you end up with a blob of Pritt, The Non-Sticky Sticky Stuff, on the screen.

Wodehouse on the page can be taken in the reader's own time; on the screen, the beautiful sentence often seems to whip by, like an attractive member of the opposite sex glimpsed from the back of a cab. You, as the viewer, try desperately to fix the image in your mind - but it is too late, because suddenly you're into a commercial break and someone is telling you how your home may be at risk if you eat the wrong breakast cereal.

Naturally, one hopes there were compensations in watching Wodehouse on the screen - pleasant scenery, amusing clothes, a particular actor's eyebrows - but it can never replicate the experience of reading him. If I may go slightly culinary for a moment: a dish of foie gras nestling on a bed of truffles, with a side-order of lobster and caviar may provide you with a wonderful sensation; but no matter how wonderful, you simply don't want to be spoon-fed the stuff by a perfect stranger. You need to hold the spoon, and decide for yourself when to wolf and when to nibble. {...}

While I'm a ways off from watching the TV series (Whenever something like this hits the small or silver screen, I like to have read the source material beforehand. This way I can slam it with an unholy glee if I find it lacking. Good fun all around!), I find it interesting that the man who played Bertie is enough of a Wodehouse fan that he doesn't think he did a good enough job, and, in his view, that no one ever could.

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The husband really is a geek.

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Margi wants to know what everyone got for Christmas.

Okedokey.

From the husband:

• movie theater gift certificates


• pastry brushes and a pair of whopper tongs for bbq-ing


• a very nice watch

From Mom and Dad:

• a very nice plaid wool blanket that I believe Mom made. Now if we only had football games to go to...


• DVD's of The Godfather and The Princess Bride! YAY Mom!Thanks for resisting the urge to buy me a poncho! I hear it was near thing. Thank you! I love them. And I will get much more use out of them than I would a poncho.

From Mr. H.:

• a Houdini wine opener so I can get to my Chardonnay that much quicker

From the In-Laws:

• A big Oral B Electric toothbrush set
  
• The Griffin and Sabine boxed set. Yipppee! Picture books for grownups!

From the Brother-in-Law (my side):

• a gorgeous antique broach, set with a big pink stone in the middle, and small pink and white stones around the outside. Lovely.

From the husband's sister's family:

• The SNL edition of Trivial Pursuit


• homemade ornaments from the kiddies

From Santa (or Jolly old St. Nick if you prefer) into my stocking, which I hung by the fire with care:

• A Caribou Card for my Sunday morning gab fests with Mr. H.


• An envelope of Ginger Milk bath salts! (See, kids, Santa really does read your blog!)


• Cinnamon Hoof Mints


• A big fat Vanity Fair with Ahhhhnuld and Maria on the cover

From my Godbaby:

• a neato Christmas ornament he made himself, replete with school picture

From my sister, Christi, and her husband:

• The 80's Trivia Game
. Oh yeah. This one sucks bigtime! We'll never play it. /sarcasm.

Reportedly, a very nice bottle of Chardonnay is winging its way here from Northern California as I write this, as well.

Everyone's generosity, as usual, is overwhelming and I am indeed a lucky, lucky girl.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:35 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Previous entries can be found here and here.

Upon my request, the Hennepin County Library system delivered Ring for Jeeves to our local branch and I retrieved it before they shut down for the holiday. While I'm still reading this, and enjoying it tremendously, I wanted something a little frothier to read over the holiday. Of which I do rather a lot as we have no wee ones, who, like a full-powered, freshly bagged Hoover, can be something of a time sucker around this time of year. Or so I'm told.

I finished it last night and it was indeed frothy. Yet...

Well, if you're interested, take the Plum Plunge and read on after the jump. more...

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Just in case you happened to have missed all the action in the midst of fending off requests for more brandy-laced eggnog from relatives who refuse to leave, a massive earthquake, scoring a whopping 8.9 on the Richter scale, centered off the coast of Sumatra struck in the early morning hours on Sunday. This underwater earthquake triggered more than a few tsunamis, or tidal waves, which have completely swamped parts of Sri Lanka, India, Indonesia, and the Maldives---just to name a few of the places in South East Asia that were affected.

The International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies has put out an appeal for aid. They're looking for upwards of $6M US to help with the immediate needs of these poor people.

Keep the Spirit of Christmas flowing. Go here and donate what you can, if you can. The estimates of the number of dead range from ten thousand to eleven thousand, three hundred. No one knows for sure and they're not likely to know until they can deal with the bare necessities of taking care of the living.

The butcher's bill is always the last to be presented in situations like these. Help out if you are able, so things can get back to a state that resembles normal and the people there will be able to bury their dead.

UPDATEThey're now saying over fourteen thousand dead. Let's face it, kids: that number is only going to keep rising. If you are able, help. They could really use it.

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Since there seems to be a meme going on, I thought I would participate in my usual way---meaning I'm the last one on the boat, and no one will really care about my presence so it was probably a big waste of time for me to try and catch it. Whatever.

In case you were wondering who the random boy was, know that is no boy. That is me. Circa age six or seven, so yes, that means mid-70's fashion hell. Fortunately, I've gotten past cringing everytime I see this picture and am finally able to take it for what it is: a kid sitting on a dodgy Mall Santa's lap. Boy haircut aside, I realize I was actually pretty cute. This was pre-nearsightedness, so no spectacles. That wouldn't last much longer, but it is nice to know there was a time when all I needed to see was my own set of eyes, because I sure as heck don't remember it. Note that I was behaving myself, too: my hands are folded, like a little lady---not that you could tell with the haircut---so I was apparently trying to get in good with the Big Man. But, Ai-yi-yi, are my teeth horrible or what? What a mess! Thank you, my parentals, for dumping what was probably thousands of dollars on my choppers and hundreds of hours spent in the car driving me to the orthodontist, the oral surgeon and the dentist. My teeth are now straight and I really do appreciate all that trouble you went to so I didn't have to live with that set of teeth for the rest of my life.

What's the point with all of this? Hell if I know. It's Christmas, Theo! It's a season of miracles! So be of good cheer and call me when you get to the seventh lock!

Erm.

Sorry to channel Hans. I can't quite help myself around this time of year. Anyway...

Posting will be incredibly light over the next couple of days. You might get something. You might not. Check in just in case I decide to post a huge treatise, but I'm probably going to be drugged by egg nog, so don't count on it.

I have stuff to do around here and I best be getting on with it. Have a fantastic holiday. Eat well. Converse much. Hug and kiss often. And yes, that directive does include the cousin who cleans all the good booze out of your liquor cabinet. Drink just enough to make yourself pliable to the delights of the season, but no more than your usual maximum or those reindeer thumps on the roof will wake you out of deep sleep and into a horrible hangover. For Christmas Eve specifically, to quote myself from last Christmas, here's my recommendation:

Make the time tonight, between glasses of wine and obnoxious relatives, to go outside. Enjoy the peace and quiet, albeit temporary. Enjoy the cold for a few minutes. Breathe deeply and, for a brief moment, enjoy the icicles forming in your lungs. Shiver copiously. And then look up at the night sky, and if Rudolph's honker isn't too distracting, gaze at the stars.

Then, think of a young couple who on this night, roughly two thousand years ago, gave everything over to their faith and a God who demanded difficult things of them to fulfill His will. Know that they submitted without hesitation. Think of the gift they gave us this night and know that they gazed at the same stars you're looking at.

And know that the world is a wondrous place.

Have a very Merry Christmas, my beloved Cake Eater Readers.

Update: Rob, we need to talk about trackback, darlin'. That way, when you post adorable pictures of yourself and your wife on your blog, I'll know about it toute suite!

Wow. Has Movable Type spoiled me, or what?

Posted by: Kathy at 11:38 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 Merry Christmas right back at you, Kathy! Have a wonderful and spirit-filled holiday. And have lots of fun next year, ok?

Posted by: Pious Agnostic at December 24, 2004 01:39 PM (8Dq9C)

2 I can't see the photo...... Forbidden You don't have permission to access /images/KSanta.jpg on this server. Additionally, a 404 Not Found error was encountered while trying to use an ErrorDocument to handle the request. Apache/1.3.33 Server at www.cakeeaterchronicles.mu.nu Port 80

Posted by: Richard at December 24, 2004 03:26 PM (BlvMr)

3 Richard, I asked the husband about this and here's what he said: It is possible that there is some kind of server error that we are not aware of. It's also possible that there is a short-term bandwidth restriction that has been run into. It's also possible that the ISP or host you are requesting to view the site through is on a blacklist that mu.nu maintains. My only suggestion since you're the only one we know so far of having this problem is to try again later and refresh your browser. Sorry...and don't worry, you're really not missing all that much Merry Christmas! P.S. The husband also says if you're using IE you should really visit www.mozilla.org and explore the alternatives

Posted by: Kathy at December 24, 2004 03:39 PM (E0v6D)

4 Also, it's possible that a firewall may be blocking access. I think. Seems like I've seen this problem before. But damn. This eggnog's good. Anyway. I think that picture is ADORABLE. Look at you, with the pretty grin and your hands all folded in your lap. What a sweet face! And I see the family resemblance from previously viewing the Cutest Redhead Ever™. Merry Christmas, my friend. To you and yours. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at December 24, 2004 05:03 PM (rKX9f)

5 Wild. I don't think James and I look anything alike His brother, however, has the same set of teeth that I did. I pray for poor Christi. James will love the fact that he's trademarked now. Heheheh. Merry Christmas!

Posted by: Kathy at December 25, 2004 11:30 AM (E0v6D)

6 I have a few pictures of me and Santa. But I'm so old that I'm dressed all cute in a little dress, hat and handmuff and the pictures are in black and white. Hope you had a Merry Christmas! We are all stirring and starting to REALLY pack now for our trip as we leave in the morning. I'm so glad we're going west rather than east. My kids don't fly back to the east until the 8th and the 15th so hopefully the planes will be back on track by then. More later when we return! Kitty

Posted by: K. Mason at December 26, 2004 09:21 AM (THsAz)

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In years previous, Minnesota Public Radio has presented The Nine Lessons and Carols---live---from King's College Chapel at Cambridge, on Christmas Eve morning. They're doing it again this year and I thought I'd give a heads-up in case anyone's interested.

If you've never heard this service before, it's a wonderful service full o' a variety of music. It's churchy---because it's a Christmas service. Duh---but if you truly love listening to choir music around the holidays, like me, this is the best you can get.

If you want to follow along, the program for this years service can be found here and you can pick up MPR's broadcast here. It begins at 9 a.m. (CST) tomorrow morning.

Happy listening.

*Sincere apologies and prostrations laid at the feet of Robert for swiping his title.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:11 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Nice.

Australian anti-piracy operatives are seeking a freeze on funds donated to the International Red Cross by a Vanuatu-based trust fund run by Sharman Networks - maker of Kazaa P2P software.

The recording industry is asking the Red Cross to voluntarily freeze the cash pending the outcome of an Australian court case brought against Sharman by several record companies. The suit alleges that Sharman "has directly and indirectly infringed on the recording companies' copyrights, violated Australian fair trade laws and conspired to harm the music industry", according to a Wired report.

Michael Speck of AustraliaÂ’s Music Industry Piracy Investigations said: "We're preparing our approach to the International Red Cross. I believe this whole thing will come as a complete surprise to them, and weÂ’re only approaching them to stop them disposing of any funds."

Speck expressed his hope that the Red Cross would co-operate, adding: "It would be incredibly disappointing if we had to sue them."{...}

"It would be incredibly disappointing if we had to sue them."

Holy Delusion, Batman!

What's amazing is that these people seemingly have no idea how bad something like this could make them look. As if we already didn't know they were greedy to begin with, this just makes them look like monsters. Asking the International Red Cross---while biased beyond belief against America and yet another Geneva-based bureaucracy steeped in corruption---does manage to do some good worldwide.

The Australian recording industry is literally taking food out of the mouths of babes to feed their bottom lines.

{Hat tip: Tech Dirt}

Posted by: Kathy at 09:44 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Yeah, but it's still a blended scotch, not a single malt.

Hence it's automatically inferior.

If you're going to blow some coin on whisky, well, might I recommend this? Or this? Or this?

Blended whiskies are the spirit equivalent of Wolfgang Puck's cooking: sometimes the fusion works, but most of the time it doesn't and ends up being a short-lived curiosity. Single malts are much better in that you get the flavor of the blended whiskies without the fuss of blending, and if you want another bottle, well, you'll be able to find it because only rarely do purveyors of fine Scottish single malts go belly up or discontinue products.

And if you do wind up buying a bottle of the Macallan 18-year-old, spring for another, stash it away and open it up twenty to thirty years later. It will be the best whisky experience you've ever had. Trust me on this one. It mellows gorgeously in the bottle. I am not a cheap scotch date because this was how I first came to appreciate whisky.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:49 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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Here is a summary of last night:

Sat on the sofa, knee elevated by means of big, plushy pillow with a bluish bag of manufactured gel which holds the cold well acting as the pickle in my knee sandwich.

I watched some TV, too. After struggling to stay awake during this stupid Nova special on string theory that the husband wanted to watch, we flipped over to FOX and caught the latest firing on that Richard Branson show whose title is too stupid for me to repeat here. I then perked up for House, because I like it. (Start watching this show, damnit. I don't want it cancelled! Do it for me, kids. Please?) Then I flipped around for a while (hours actually) and then read this.

And all this while I popped Advil.

And guess what? It's better!

The swelling has gone down, and while it's still achy and I'm limping, I believe I will, indeed, avoid another bout of physical therapy. Providing I don't go and do something incredibly stupid, like walking on ice. Keep your fingers crossed.

Thanks for all the well wishes and happy thoughts. I appreciate them.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:53 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Ok, so here's what the Worldwide Fund For Nature says you shouldn't buy me for Christmas.

So, no ivory. No caviar. No Crocodile. No tiger rugs. No turtle shell products. No shatoosh (don't really need another shawl anyway. I like my pashmina just fine, thanks.) No coral. No cactus. And no energy inefficient electronics.

I'm ok with all of that. Honestly. No hassles here. I'm all about protecting the environment when it doesn't put me out too much.

But that doesn't mean you're off the hook yet, kids. Because these weren't on the list. Crocodile bad. Alligator Good.

I will be expecting a few pairs to be under the tree come Christmas Day. I particularly like the sandals, the halter slingbacks and the slides.

And all of them in black. Size 8 1/2 AA.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:49 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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