Quickie post to update on the last week and a half, because Friday morning we're going to San Francisco, returning late Tuesday with probably no Internet access in-between.
Chad put up a corner of stockade fence last week, replacing the ugly chickenwire that had been keeping the dog in the yard in that area, and hopefully giving her less visual stimulation to bark at in the process. We were more than a little surprised to find, through a note on our door from the building inspector, that we were supposed to get a permit to put up the fence. I dropped off our application this morning and don't anticipate it will be a problem.
In other domestic-ish news, lbmango came over mid-week to test-drive my Prius and stayed a while to chat. And a number of the summer research students in the Physics came over for, of course, Spiedies and chocolate-chip cookies. Other than that, last week was work work work.
This week has been work work work too, but in-between was a rather busy weekend. Friday night I drove out to Massachusetts for a bridal shower Saturday afternoon. The shower was very nice, though the only people I particularly knew were the bride-to-be and her immediate family. The favors included a plant—okay, I'm told bamboo is basically unkillable, but I still think giving live things out as gifts is a bad idea, especially at a shower, because I'd take it as an obscure ill-omen on the marriage if I did manage to kill the thing. (I have a black thumb. I couldn't even take care of silk plants as a kid.)
Sunday we went to see John Mayer at SPAC (the Saratoga Performing Arts Center). We had lawn seats and arrived half-way through the second opening act, because I was trying to get some work done that afternoon. (That was Maroon Five, the "Harder to Breathe" group. The lead singer has deeply annoying stage patter.) It was actually very relaxing being so far in the back; we spread out the blanket, I laid down and tried to remember my constellations, the music was at a bearable volume for me, and we felt we could chat occasionally, not strain to see the stage, that kind of thing. (Okay, there were the stoned Fran Dreschers behind us, but they came and went.) It's not like one goes to see Mayer for the stage show, at least not if one is over 15. He is, by the way, a better guitarist than I'd expected; he did a Clapton cover and while he's not Clapton, he didn't suck either. He also did all the radio hits before the encore, so by the time we left (during the last song of the encore), getting out of the park was a breeze.
Dog tip of the week: if someone says hey, your dog is running around loose and could you please call it because our dog feels very threatened by other dogs, well, please at least try to appear that you care. Your dog might be the nicest thing in the world, but our dog doesn't know that and might growl, bare her teeth, or worse under the perceived harassment.
(A big dog running full-tilt at you, after you thought you'd gotten safely past, is quite the scary sight. Fortunately my "you will obey me" voice at full volume caused the dog to retreat, but that's just not the kind of adrenaline I need.)
- This comic is exactly how I feel about text-adventure games.
- deleting_my_lj is a good idea.
- Chad and I have both been playing with our iPods; he's
blogged his random thoughts, and separately I've been thinking
about really, really small musical genres, to wit:
- Lesbian country songs sung by a man.
- Football ballads.
- Songs addressed to a cat.
- Songs from the point of view of a cat.
I told Chad the first two of these and it only took him a moment to identify the bands I'd put in a playlist. Anyone else want to take a stab at it, or have their own suggestions?
Oh, and "you really must see X in the San Francisco area" comments are welcomed.