We were up before dawn doing all the mad rushing around that we always do before we leave for a trip. We'd hired a car instead of choosing to garage the Forester while we were gone, and while it's not cheap, it's nice being able to nap through the drive to SFO in relative comfort.

Fuzzy kept talking to me, he said, to distract me from the driver's reckless driving. I was trying to sleep, and was completely oblivious, so the talking wasn't appreciated.

The airport was painless. Yes, they made announcements (in English only, how arrogant is that?) that we were on Homeland Security Threat Level Orange, but really, with the exception of the announcements there was no noticable difference in the way anything happened.

We boarded early, and took off early. Yay for Alaska Airlines. The plane was mostly full, but we were in the back, so had three seats for the two of us. A nice bonus. What I love most about flying Alaska to Cabo is that the flight is just long enough to keep you busy from takeoff to landing: first drinks, then lunch (pasta salad and corn chips and scary Carlos V bars, from the Mexican Nestle plant. This chocolate is so bad, I won't even taste it.), then everyone does their immigration cards and customs forms together. “Don't worry about the boxes for your name. There aren't enough boxes. Just write your whole name, just like it is on your passport. You know how the drivers in Mexico never stay in their lanes? Well, we don't stay in the lines,” was the flight attendant's instruction. On the surface it seems racist, but if you've ever driven in Mexico, you know it's /true/.

Then you land. We were early, which annoyed people, so we sat until our projected arrival time until they brought stairs to the plane. Immigration was as painless as ever – sometimes I think they don't even look at your forms, they just like to stamp stuff – and we got lucky at customs and got GREEN lights this time. (If you've never been to Mexico, customs searches entering the country are random – there's a traffic light at the gate, and you press a button. If you get a green light, you pass, if you get a red light, they search your stuff. The last time we were there I had a washing-machine box full of chocolate and tea and pillows and quilts for my parents, and I got the red light, but it was Christmas, so they asked me what was in the box, and believed me when I told them, “Pillows.”)

The taxi driver at the other end of the customs gate tried hard to get us to ride with him, but my parents, and Abigail Maria Sanchez (their neurotic blonde chihuahua) were already there, waiting. We loaded the car, and within minutes were on Highway One driving West from San Jose del Cabo through Cabo San Lucas, and then North on the Pacific road to Rancho Nuevo.

The drive, by the way, is amazing. You're driving on a road that winds over mountains, through gardens of cardon cactus, century plants, and agave, knowing absolutely that this is the living desert, but off to the west is the ocean, right at the edge of the cactus groves, and off to the east, as yet unseen, is the Gulf of California (formerly known as the Sea of Cortez).

* * *

Rancho Nuevo is a development on the Pacific (ocean) side of Baja Sur, and my parents had originally owned a lot there, and planned to build. My mother realized very quickly, however, that she does not have the necessary personality for someone building a house without a place to live, which is how they ended up in El Comitan, but that's another story.

Their friends, Melanie and Gunther, live right on the beach in Rancho Nuevo, in a three story house where all the power is solar. (Because of this, they have a propane-powered refrigerator, well, actually, three of them, because they're tiny), and they greeted us with Pacifico Claro beer (con limon) and guacamole, and then we ate grilled hot dogs and pasta salad with shrimp under their palapa while the sun set over the water. I've exchanged email with Melanie over the years that my parents have lived in Baja, and it was wonderful finally meeting this woman. Gunther and I got along from the start, teasing each other like mad, and it was a wonderful way to begin a vacation.

The drive home over the mountain road through Todos Santos was fine until full dark, and then Chris and I, to spare my mother's sanity, took to 'helping' my stepfather. “No, Ira, there are six cars in the oncoming lane, don't pass.” “Oh, Ira, if it says TOPE: 500m that means there really is a tope coming up.” “Hey, stop for cows!” (For the uninitiated, topes are speed bumps, but they're really tall and triangular. In some places, in an attempt to make it clearer for English speakers they're also labelled “Bumpo”).

We finally made it home, though, and had tea and a snack and went to bed in the casita, after a brief tour. I hadn't seen my parents house /finished/ and it was – is – lovely. But I still think the bed in the casita is too hard. :) (More to come)

Lifted from

The following are based on my birth name.

Melissa:
You want to be productive and feel useful, and enjoy helping solve problems. You like to be busy and not waste time. You can be quite inventive and quite curious. You have a diplomatic flair to your nature. Equality and fairness are important to you. You are relatively demonstrative in your affections. You enjoy being stroked verbally and physically. You try to be prudent. You have good business acumen. You have a need to earn money to prove your success to society and must learn the true value of material gains and status. You have much enthusiasm with a driving attitude toward achievement in life.

Annette:
You have much enthusiasm with a driving attitude toward achievement in life. You can handle details well. You have a methodical mind. You must learn to give 'wise' service and not be a martyr. You need to learn to be expressive. You are a person who cannot tolerate being misunderstood. Your privacy is important to you. You have a rich inner life. You need to learn faith in place of fear. You need to learn to be expressive. You are a person who cannot tolerate being misunderstood.

Klindienst:
You have good recuperative abilities and strong mental determination. You are very private and dislike others prying into your affairs. You must learn the lessons of self-worth; learn to love yourself before you can love others. You need to learn to give and receive love for love's sake. You have a need to be assured of affection. You must learn to give 'wise' service and not be a martyr. You have a discriminating nature coupled with perseverance and family pride. You need to learn to give and receive love for love's sake. You have a need to be assured of affection. You need to learn to be expressive. You are a person who cannot tolerate being misunderstood. You must learn to give 'wise' service and not be a martyr. You have a need to earn money to prove your success to society and must learn the true value of material gains and status. You need to learn faith in place of fear.

But since I succumbed to wanting a name that would fit on forms, and be easier to spell, here's the result for my married name, as well (first and middle don't change).

Bartell:
You have a tendency to resist change. Don't miss opportunities for growth. You have a love of creature comforts, but must learn to handle money. You have a need to be up front. You enjoy a challenge. You can take thought-directed actions. You need to learn faith in place of fear. You need to learn to be expressive. You are a person who cannot tolerate being misunderstood. You must learn the lessons of self-worth; learn to love yourself before you can love others. You must learn the lessons of self-worth; learn to love yourself before you can love others.

And if you want to do your own name, you can go here

This has nothing to do with the film.

This has everything to do with not being able to sleep. Alright, yes, its's after 6:30 in the morning, but I'm spoiled, I don't start work til ten, I never get up this early.

I woke at 6:17, for no real reason, as I've been doing almost every morning for the last month, no matter how late I go to bed. It's a completely random time, and yet, every morning, that's what the clock says.

Cleo pushed me into semi-wakefulness at 5:47, also, because she saw or smelled or heard, or dreamed she saw, smelled, or heard, a cat within a mile of the house. More and more, we think she thinks she's a Staffy (Staffordshire Bull Terrier), at least in part, despite her being only 22 pounds, because she ACTS just like one. And she makes the funniest noises when she's on Patrol, grumbling and warbling to herself as she moves from window to window and then does circuits around the yard. At least, they're cute at more reasonable hours.

So it's early, and I could start the day – take a shower, make coffee, be productive. OR, I could crawl back into bed until nine.

I feel all groggy and disoriented.
Guess which option wins :)

Happy Birthday

I haven't been posting much. I've been reading what everyone else is writing, but not posting much, and I feel like a bad houseguest who uses the sheets and doesn't even bother to strip the bed before she leaves.

Thursday, I bought two (only two) books: Cerulean Sins and The Nanny Diaries. By bedtime Thursday night, I was only 1/3 away from finishing the first.

Friday, I bought a new keyboard – a natural one, which used to be my usual, and then it wasn't. I'm still in the stage of getting used to it, where it feels like I'm typing on a basketball. I also bought one of those cute little USB drive / keychain thingies. Well, mine's actually a necklace, not a keychain. But you know what I mean. Just as I was enamoured with the thought of storing data on a stick of gum, I am also intrigued by having 128 MB of storage in something that looks like a cigarette lighter.

Saturday: Finished Cerulean Sins, puttered around the house, went with Fuzzy to Pixel USA to get a new fan for his old system,bought flowers, had a massage. I still ache from the accupressure on my shoulders and arm, and my fingers are still fuzzy, but I don't feel as tight. Which is good. She said if I'm diligent about stretching and resting from keyboard use, and keeping up with the massage, I should be able to feel my fingers by the end of summer. Also good.

Sunday: I finished The Nanny Diaries and mostly puttered. I've been fatigued to the point of it not being funny lately, and I can't figure out why. So I'm trying to boost electrolytes, and drink more water, but anyone who knows me also knows that too much water makes me sick.

Monday: Birthday at the office for CL. Brought cake. We were all in grumpy bitchy crabby moods, and we all bailed around 4:00. Today, I plan to leave as soon as my files are done. I don't have a lot.

I've been scarce on the net because my hand hurts and I'm tired, and I don't want to inflict my mood on other people unless I have no other choice.

(Filched from )

In the Snowy Wastes of Pern lies Telgar Weyr, the third location on the Northern Continent selected to become a home to the dragonriders. Yet due to its barren, rocky terrain (well-loved by the Mine and Smithcrafts), it was the last weyr to actually be settled. Despite its speckled past, Telgar is now a thriving community, and defends a sizeable portion of the Northern Continent including Smithcraft Hall, Woodcraft Hall, and Bitra Hold.

Telgar lies blanketed with winter snow, and storms rage just beyond — for all that this provides respite from Threadfall. Yet Nimiriel's gold Daelyth shows signs of being ready to rise, and may well take to the skies any day, now. Soon, then, there will be eggs hardening upon Telgar's sands, and Searchriders bringing worthy Candidates back to the Weyr.

We attempt to make Telgar an open and inviting venue for fun, interesting, and involved roleplay, with an emphasis on cooperation and where everyone from the Senior Weyrwoman to the lowliest drudge is made to feel important and welcomed. Anyone can participate in or help organize and run stories of all stripes, and we value constructive criticism to help make Telgar a better place. We're particularly enthusiastic about Search, as it represents an opportunity for us to bring new riders into the fold; you can take a look here to get an idea of the kind of effort we put into making each hatching, indeed each dragon, special. Females can impress to any color dragon save bronze, and males to any color dragon save gold. Leadership positions are awarded according to merit rather than politics, and with the exception of Weyrwoman and Weyrleader, are open to any rider.
PernMUSH is set during the 10th Pass, with no rediscovery of technology and no AIVAS system, and is the sister MUSH to SouCon MUSH. Please check us out at: pern.mccr.org 4201, and feel free to contact Tarien, K'ran, Zaidra, Kichevio, or any Telgar Weyr resident for information regarding Search, or see our search pages. Look forward to seeing you there!

When I was a kid, I had a home chemistry kit. I don't remember doing anything with it other than making a mess, but…well…I had it.

Now, instead of a cute kit, I have a pool. During the summer, a pool is a recreational device. The rest of the time, it's the grown up version of a home chemistry kit.

Today, we spent $95 on: Calcium Hardener, Alkalinity Booster, Dry Acid, Algaecide, and a very cool brush with a 10 foot pole. This is in addition to the tub of chlorine we already have, and the bags of SHOCK! which are stored across the room from the chlorine, even though Shock! is chlorine, because they're different kinds of chlorine.

Used properly, this array of white powdery stuff will kill the algae in my pool so I can vaccum it away, change the bacteria count, hardness, ph balance and surface tension of the pool water, to keep it crystal clear and swimmable, and give me stuff to put in the cute little blue shed in my yard.

Alternatively, I could poison people, or build a bomb (that part's easy. If you mix Shock! and regular chlorine, the explosion is way cool).

I bought all this, and was even given a really nice chem lesson from the folks at The Poolyard (they're cheaper, and more knowledgable than Leslie Pools, by the way).

And over the next three days, I'll be reclaiming my pool.

On my wishlist for summer:
-A toy sailboat, preferably a racing schooner, to stay in the pool when there are no ppl
-An oval or rectangular patio table, with chairs
-Pool toys.

Oh, right.
We also went to OSH, which is my favorite non book/clothes/stationery store in life. I bought a scuffle hoe to replace the scuffle hoe Fuzzy threw away when we moved. Scuffle hoes are my friends.

Sometimes, when I want to be snarky and don't care if I'm considered insane, I tell people that Fuzzy and I met on another planet. Most people just look at me, smile, nod, and back away slowly, when I say that.

I've made it a point not to talk about MUSH very much in this journal. Because while MUSHing is one of my hobbies, it's hardly all that I do, or all that I am. But I did meet Fuzzy on ShardsMUSH in 1994, and so, in a sense, we did meet on another planet.

The first time we ever met face to face was in November, 1994, and to this day, I consider him the only good thing that has ever happened to me in November. It's usually such a bleak month for me – everyone in my family dies in November, and my 11th Month Curse has spread to Fuzzy's family as well — his grandmother died in November, the last winter we were in South Dakota. (1997, I guess). But then he walked through my gate on a sunny November afternoon, and proposed to me later that night, and November hasn't been so bad, since then.

Today is our eighth anniversary. And while it hasn't always been easy – we fight, we retreat inside ourselves, we bitch about each other to our respective friends – it's mostly been pretty good. We've survived two cross-country moves, several job changes, one abortion, one miscarriage, and a dog with epilepsy. We've gone through several cars, too many houses, and enough computers to fill a data center without help.

He doesn't always get a long with my liberal, radical, secular humanist, ex-patriot parents. I don't always get along with his conservative, Christian, mid-Western family. But we've found common ground, and we've managed to mostly retain our individuality, within the constrains of marriage.

There are times, of course, being the type-A person that I am, that I wish we had separate apartments, because there's never enough me-space.

There are times when I remember being seven or eight and swearing I would NEVER get married EVER, because marriage is OLD FASHIONED and WEIRD.

There are times when I wish I could go away for a few months and live in a cabin on a beach and just write, and not see /anyone/ except the person whose sole job would be delivering espresso every morning.

But also there are nights like tonight, when there was a glass swan-vase with a rosebud in it waiting on the seat when he met me at work, and a card, and another card, and more roses waiting on my computer desk.

And there are the nights when I'm feeling bitchy and horrible and cruel and he just gives me chocolate and says, “You're PMSing, you'll feel better in the morning.”

Or the nights when I wake up screaming, from nightmares leftover from childhood, and he just holds me till I fall asleep.

Or the times he calls me from the grocery store eight times to make sure he picks EXACTLY the right brand of toothpaste/shampoo/tuna fish/whatever.

And mostly, there's eight years (so far) of love and laughter and learning to understand each other.

Fuzzy, I love you.

Tag line from a client's company's website:
“Take control of your cloning scene.”
Yes, I know, they really do gene therapy and stuff like that, but I still think the line is funny.

I also find it amusing that the folks in the office across from us are using a computer (Dell) as a doorstop. Literally.