The clock on my wall tells me that it's 8:09 AM, despite the fact that the computer thinks it's 8:08. Close enough, I suppose. I'm used to having fifteen-minute time-warps between rooms, so what's a minute or so among friends.

In any case, anything before 8:30 is, for me, what getting up at 4 or 5 AM would be for most other people. Because I'm spoiled. My workday doesn't normally start til 10. and I have this finely tuned morning routine where one of us (generally him) rolls out of bed between 8 15 and 8:30, and the other (generally me) gets to sleep until nine. The target time for leaving the house is 9:30, and once in a while we actually hit that target, but not usually.

Today, however, it's not even 8:30, and I'm at work. It's kind of eerie, being here so early. No one ever shows up before nine, and most folks wander in between 10 and 11. We are a company of night-owls, and most of the time this works.

There are reasons for my being here at this time – one of which was that I had to find a way to deliver the latest Laurell K. Hamilton book to . (I picked up a second copy when I purchased my own last night, after consulting him.) The book itself is A Caress of Twilight and I tend to be spoiler-prone so I'll stop there. I was pretty spacey this morning – my eyes still felt sleep-dry, and I was all bleary. So I think I was rude to him (it wasn't intentional), which sometimes happens when I talk to people before my daily dose of caffeine.

So, my plan is to zip through all my work foo, beginning at nine, and then get out of here early.

We'll see if that actually happens.

A recent survey found that…

The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the
British or Americans.

On the other hand, the French eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer
heart attacks than the British or Americans.

The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks
than the British or Americans.

The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and also suffer fewer
heart attacks than the British or
Americans.

Conclusion: Eat and drink what you like. It's speaking English that
kills you.

At Starbucks this morning, as we left the parking lot, we were stuck behind a ponytailed woman in a car that looked rather like it was leftover from the 70's. Large. White. American. She was drumming the steering wheel and singing along with whatever she was listening to, which would have been fine, if she'd only been driving with some semblance of normal speed. Thankfully, we weren't behind her for long. Her license plate was 2BIP003, although I wanted the first 0 to be an O. Because then it would have been a rather optimistic plate for Silicon Valley: 2B-IPO-03

***

Later in our drive, we passed Happy Old Guy, who takes his morning constitutional at about the same time that we get to his block every day. He's always walking briskly, fanny-pack at the ready, smile on his face. I think he'd be happier if he had a dog, though.

***

And finally, on this warm spring morning, when usually is the only person alive who would need to be wearing a coat, we passed another older guy, trudging down Parkmoor in a camouflage-colored parka, and silver ski pants. My comment, “Um, camouflage doesn't really make you blend on a suburban street corner” garnered a glare, and the response that a lime green t-shirt (um, actually, it's pistachio, but he's color blind, so for him that was amazingly accurate) doesn't really make you blend in a Subaru Forester. As if I'd try!

I don't generally do quizzes, but The Kingdomality Test has been one of my favorites for years.

Your distinct personality, The Benevolent Ruler might be found in most of the thriving kingdoms of the time. You are the idealistic social dreamer. Your overriding goal is to solve the people problems of your world. You are a social reformer who wants everyone to be happy in a world that you can visualize. You are exceptionally perceptive about the woes and needs of humankind. You often have the understanding and skill to readily conceive and implement the solutions to your perceptions. On the positive side, you are creatively persuasive, charismatic and ideologically concerned. On the negative side, you may be unrealistically sentimental, scattered and impulsive, as well as deviously manipulative. Interestingly, your preference is just as applicable in today's corporate kingdoms.

It should be noted that I always either get this result, or, less frequently, prime minister

. . .You're part of the problem. At least, that's what I've always believed.

So today I took a step I should not have taken – I posted a note to ISW's weyrlings admonishing them (some might say 'reaming' them) for not meeting the WLMstaff half way.

I'm not usually the reaming type. I'm the one who sits and observes and makes rare comments. While I can lead, if I have to, I'm not at my best in the spotlight, preferring to be behind the scenes. Well, usually. And it's not even that I'm shy, as it is that it takes me a while to warm up to people.

There are a few notable exceptions to this. My husband and are among them.

In any case, I posted what I did because I was angry. Because more than one of the WLMstaff had been venting to me about the current weyrlings. Are they evil? Well no. But as a class they have missed more collective lessons, and been more lax about responding to things than any collection of weyrlings I've ever seen. I've heard people at other weyrs talking about how they complain about each other, how classes never happen. I've seen a really good WLM want to quit. And the afore-mentioned who was actually looking forward to being active with the weyrlings is now even more bitter than he was when we met, if that's even possible.

I blame myself for wanting to help. I meant well. I thought lighting a fire under some asses would make them realize that their inactivity wasn't just affecting them.

I blame myself for 's increased bitterness and apathy.

I blame myself for not speaking up sooner when it might have actually helped, instead of seething about it.

I should have cleared it with my WL's, yes, but I thought that if it came from me, who has no real influence over weyrlings, it might be looked upon as less a reprimand than an observation.

Clearly I was wrong.

And so Ista may lose a bronzerider. And Ista needs bronzeriders – active bronzeriders – very badly. I am expendable. They are not.

So I sent a resignation. Do I really want to resign? Well, no, but I also don't want the weyr to remain at odds with each other. And if I can take a fall for this, what's one caverns person among many?

Can a muse be male? And further, can a muse be someone you've never actually met?

There's a member of Free Open Diary, which used to just be Open Diary until OD spawned OD+, their pay site, and then swapped things so the regular OD was the pay site, and FOD was the free one (confused yet?), who never fails to provoke me to think. He has this uncanny knack of writing exactly what I need to hear, exactly when I need to hear it.

He goes by El Coyote Loco, and I recommend his diary strongly. This is a man who has more wisdom, at the age of 32, than most of us will ever acquire.

And while the things I'm prompted to write about don't show up here in LJ, he is one of my muses.

As an anniversary present to ourselves, and I bought something totally frivolous: Playstation 2.

I'm told this is a very cool thing, but since he monopolized it all weekend, I really wouldn't know.

Note to self: Allowing a game-addict spouse to buy yet another game-related item is not conducive to romantic weekends.

-Finally I have my very own player's guide for 7th Sea. Now I can write notes in the margins, and dog-ear pages, and stuff. I suppose I should learn to use pencil for this – but I detest pencils, and, with the exception of ScanTron ™ forms, I haven't used a pencil since about ninth grade.

-Finally, we have new IP's A block of 16, 13 of which we get to allocate for our own uses. No more do my laptop and my other desktop need to share. And now when my mother visits we can offer her access that won't interfere with our own. Woo. I think this means our MUSHes will be back up as well. Or not. It's a mood thing.

-Finally, I don't have to wear stupid eye shields to bed, and I'm sleeping better without them. Also, I don't have to scrub tape residue off my face any more.

Saturdays so rock.

That was 's response to me pointing out in my basketcasey and sick mood, last night/early this morning (for us, we consider a day not over until we've slept) that yellow roses meant goodbye.

He brought me purple flowers, too, a mixed bouquet, because he knows I like purple. And he even put them in water for me, something that almost never happens.

We still have no plans, but now it's because I still feel blechy (although my hair no longer hurts). Maybe we'll see a movie and go out for Chinese food. I've been craving pot-stickers and Mongolian beef for days.

But a more personal part of our celebration took place just before sleep last night. I'll spare y'all the details.

I've been wanted to separate my LASIK experience from everything else since before I posted anything about it.

I've begun a 2nd livejournal, under the name with which to do that.