Blood Moon

Did you get a chance to see last night's Lunar Eclipse? I was out to pick Cynthia up at the airport around 10:30, and it was just passing, and I can see why the Blood Moon has been an inspiration for superstition and fear.

There's a lot of material on the web if you're interested in lunar eclipses. NASA in particular has a lot of very clear, useful information. Earth & Sky has a graphic showing the position of everything in the night sky (for every night, in fact). Space.com has pictures from it, as well as a good hobbyist's overview. They point out that this is the first baseball World Series eclipse -- perhaps it was just that the stars (and moon) were right for the Boston Red Sox to finally break the Curse of the Bambino.

(The photo is from space.com and was taken by Mark Haccou, Vernon, BC Canada)

Edit: More wonderful eclipse photos at Flickr (via BoingBoing)

Getting Out the Vote

This year's US presidential election may have the biggest turnout in a very long time. Given how long it took for women to get the vote, I passionately believe in exercising that right. Naturally, I'd prefer my candidates and causes win, but the most important thing is for everyone who is eligible to vote.

It's equally important to be an informed voter. They all spin the truth in their ads -- as voters we have a responsibility to do a little research so that we understand the issues and the candidates, and vote for those that we believe in. Or at least those we can bear...

The Secretary of State's Publius Voter Information Center shows Michigan residents if they're registered to vote, where to vote and what will be on the ballot. I think this is fantastic, and that every state should have something like it!

Two Lumps

The Two Lumps are Russian Blue cats, and they are the Pinky and the Brain of the cartoon cat world. As one of the cat-owned (I don't delude myself that I'm in charge) I find it consistently funny and eagerly look forward to each new installment.

Making Light: Motivation and doubt

Teresa Nielsen-Hayden often perpetrates particularly penetrating essays, and this one -- Making Light: Motivation and doubt -- is a gem.

It discusses a style of thought that has been a trial to me all of my life. These people who make decisions, independent of fact and evidence, and cling to those decisions regardless of everything. They drive me nuts. Mind you, that's a short drive in a fast car for me.

Happy News!

I heard today from Jason Nichols that he got the job with Applebee's, and he'll be starting Nov 8th. He'll be managing a restaurant in Northville, which is a hop-skip-and-a-jump from here (an hour or so drive). I'm hoping he, Erika & the baby will choose to live somewhere between there and here, making the commute even shorter. As opposed to Columbus, where they live now.

Heck, if he chose Howell, there's a whole gamer ex-patriate community there, what with Adam and the Sampsons.

Regardless, it's a good move for him (more money, benefits, more reasonable hours) and I'm very happy to have them moving closer. Even if it does mean I have to pay for my own hotel room at Origins in the future.

snarkout: the stuff that dreams

I'm again cheating and drawing from another blog: snarkout: the stuff that dreams

This is a marvelous essay on the great noir films and their creators, and well worth reading. I've put The Maltese Falcon and The Big Sleep on my "gotta get this" list.

I spend a lot of my time watching and reading both horror and science fiction, and yet I love mysteries. Whenever I run a role playing scenario of my own making, at its core it's a mystery, often with horror undertones (or overt horror). I guess I'm just intrigued by the dark side of the human soul.

ginmar: The Summer Soldier

Taking a moment out of my ususal non-politics to post an eloquent piece from ginmar: The Summer Soldier, quoted below in its entirety, with permission. If you didn't feel you had a good reason to vote, this is it.

The Summer Soldier
I got my ballot the other day, and it was relief to find that it didn't have any blood stains on it. With all the hits we've been taking lately, that was all the cautious good news one could find.

I left the post office, and looked up at the palace on the hill: Saddam's palace, now a place where soldiers from several countries are bumbling around, trying to bring democracy to this place. Some of them have only recently acquired it themselves in their own countries. One of the most touching things I've ever seen was the Prime Minister of Bulgaria, tearing up as his country was inducted into NATO.

Democracy is one of those things that people look for when they see that palace on the hill. They want it to be big and shiny, with trumpets and armies and flags. Instead, I think of that man, trying not to weep in front of the world. I have no idea what his thoughts could be. I've never really thought about what it means to be a citizen of a democracy, because it's always been there for me.

It shouldn't be a big thing, this concept of freedom, and the idealist in me thinks that every war is a failure of humanity. That palace on the hill has gorgeous marble, crudely carved. And from that vantage point one could almost see Saddam's eyes, looking for enemies. Yet the people of Iraq still smile at us, offer us tea, smiles, handshakes, able even in this war of trying to find some common ground. These are people who hope for freedom, for self-determination.

Some people say, "My country, love it or leave it," and insist that that's patriotism.

It's not. These are the summer soldiers of our history, loving only what is easy to love, accepting only the acceptible, and hating complicated things. They love the big and the brash, and miss out on the small details. They see only the surface of the water, never the depths beneath, and in its surface they see only their own reflection.

They'll say they love their country, but they only love the good parts. Their love is like a bitter phrase of my father's: "Cold indeed is the love blown out by one gust of wind." But instead of becoming disenchanted with their country, they become disenchanted with those who see her clearly, and love her not in spite of it but---they love her anyway.

Democracy, like any virtue, can be promoted through small acts and gestures. Its central premise is that every person's voice should be heard, and that concept never really hit me till I stood in front of that post office with the dust of a hundred histories on my boots, and wrote my candidate's name on it. My handwriting was messy and blotchy---I think the heat does something to the ink. It was perfectly ordinary---one pays bills in this humble fashion every day. And yet there was that building high above me, the historic river flowing by, the ruins nearby. It was an ordinary act in extraordinary circumstances.

People ask how we can do the job we do here, undertake the risks we do. It's simple: it's moments like that, the visceral jolt that comes from realizing what exactly one is doing. How often do you get to say that you voted in Iraq? Certainly it's a novelty for the Iraqis. But it's more than that. We know that we're preserving that right for other people, too. As long as some people are free, they can offer hope to those who are not.


Democracy is one of those things that you think you can define---until the very moment you try. Freedom? Yeah, what's that? I'm wearing the same outfit as 140,000 other people here. But I took an oath to defend the Constitution, and to me that means its principles. Once you recognize that you're free, you also have to recognize that other people are not, and that until they are, you can't really be, either. Freedom carries with it that burden, that acknowledgement. It's not enough to be a beacon, a symbol, a hope. You have to be active. That's the cruelest irony of all about it. I suspect the sunshine patriots Paine spoke about got a distinct jolt when they realized that freedom doesn't mean disconnection from other people---in fact, it means the exact opposite. No one can be till everyone is free.

There's something about being a Reservist that makes this seem especially vivid. We throw our fates to chance, and some of us like the idea that we're beholding to this amorphous concept of freedom. We put aside our individuality, our homes, our jobs, and we take up someone else's lives and hopes. We feel part of a larger purpose, a larger cause than our own paltry concerns. And we like it.

People ask how we do the job we do, and there's another answer, too: because of you. We fight, and you hope. The act of taking up that banner links everyone together, even if you never take up a weapon. Freedom doesn't mean isolation; it means connection, and admittance to a club with a wide-open membership. We have a common desire, it's just the execution that's different.

People ask how they can support us.

It's very simple.

Vote.

I don't care who you vote for, I just care that you do. Our deaths, our injuries, our sacrifices, are all payment for that concept of giving people a voice. We've given you a gift. We've paid for it already. We are here, and we will be here till the job is done. Yet there are people who say that the process is stupid, flawed, unnecessary. They may be right. But we're here for a reaon, and every one hwo doesn't vote negates that reason just a bit.

People ask how they can support us.

Vote.

My ballot was not blood-stained, but that's because a truckload of them probably got blown up. I was using a generic ballot, not even the one I was sent. In order for us to vote, someone gave up their life. The Iraqis haven't seen a real election in thirty years. It's a brand new right for them, and some of them are willing to die for it.

Vote.

Take up the banner for all the people, living and dead, who fought for this. Take up your part in the fight.

Haunted Holiday Destinations

Talk of the Nation is, at this moment, interviewing the fellow behind this site: Ghosts - research, evidence, and discussion. Halloween is my favorite holiday, and if I weren't already busy, I think it would be nifty to go visit a haunted place.

But then, I'm nuts, as we all know. And have never, ever had anything I could describe as a supernatural experience. I think I must exude ghost-repellent. Perhaps I'm just too skeptical, but there always ends up being a rational explanation.

As a horror aficionado, I do wonder what I would do if actually confronted by something supernatural. Would I stand my ground and be curious, would I run, would I make a total fool of myself? I just don't know.

Wergle Flomp

The remarkable Making Light informs me today of Wergle Flomp, or the vicious things people will do to aspiring writers, just to make a buck.

I don't know which troubles me more -- the creeps who perpetrate this or the poor souls who fall for it. What scribbler hasn't dreamed of making it big? You want to believe that your priceless prose/poetry is good enough to win the hearts and minds of all, and it seems judgement goes out the window.

A simple Google search (poetry writing scam) brings up a nice (if chastening) set of links.

Worst of all, I think that someone I know has recently fallen for this, and I dread telling her. I'm not sure I'm up to raining on her parade.

Parenthetically, Making Light should be on every writer's regular reading list. Honest. Click the link, go see what I mean.

Knee News

I saw my orthopedist (the saintly Dr. Morrison) today, and got a cortisone shot in my left knee this time. He took x-rays of my knees (I dread getting that bill), and confirmed that my right knee is pretty much shot. He still intends to postpone replacement surgery for that knee for as long as possible (hopefully into my sixties). If the cortisone shot doesn't help the left, he thinks it might be a problem with my back. I have a back deformity (5th lumbar sacralization) so it surely could be that. I'm just not sure who to see for it.

Right now, though, my left knee is feeling a little better... so I'll hope for now.

Veronica Mars

Despite the disdain of a good friend, I've been watching Veronica Mars, a new show on UPN. Veronica is a high school girl/detective who used to be popular, but has fallen on hard times. It takes surprising turns, and I'm finding it quite Buffy-like. I'm not saying I'm hooked, but I'm at least mildly interested.

Limping Along

My knees (especially my formerly good left leg) have been getting worse at an accelerating rate, to the point where I'm carrying my crutches in the car in case I need them. The pain has been waking me up at night -- all in all, not a happy situation. On top of that, they recalled my arthritis medication, so I'm taking Aleve and extra strength Tylenol. I see Dr. Morrison next Tuesday, so I've just been whimpering, gritting my teeth (sometimes literally) and limping along.

Yesterday Jason (the son I never had), Erika (his lovely wife) and Aierialana (okay, probably misspelled) their charming baby came to visit. They brought me birthday presents (including baby pictures, and a couple of framed shots, one of which (of the three of them) now graces my desk at work). They took me out for Chinese food at Hong Kong, our favorite, and ice cream... and gloryoski -- my leg feels better today!

I don't know if it was a missing ingredient hidden in Chinese food (there was a LOT of garlic) or the ice cream (Melting Moments cinnamon ice cream, 1 scoop, no cone), but this morning I woke up to the alarm instead of pain for the first time in a couple of weeks. Even with the ice cream indulgence, BG was only 128 this am.

I suppose it could be the weather changing, as well, but regardless I'm glad to be hurting a little less. And it was utterly wonderful to see them again!

Wow, What a Ride!

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "WOW! What a Ride!" -- Author Unknown

It was indeed the party of a lifetime. While a few people I would have dearly loved to see couldn't make it, a whole bunch of wonderful people did. There was plenty of food, which was both tasty and healthful, enough to drink (including alcohol), cake, speeches and a general good time. It was... fabulous. I'm thrilled and humbled that so many wonderful folks cared enough to come and spend the evening (and well into the night for some) with me. And presents! Lots of wonderful presents! I've got enough DVDs to keep me busy watching them for at least a month, as well as gift cards for what I like to think of as "instant books" and even "instant clothes".

We talked, we played games (board and card games) and just generally had wonderful party fun. Various attempts to hook up to play Firefly were unsuccessful, but you can't have everything.

I trashed my jeans Saturday am, and had to scamper out for new ones. Which are, I'm happy to say, an entire size smaller. The South Beach induced appetite reduction is still in force, and I am hoping I'll keep losing weight. Certainly my BG continues to be golden -- fasting of 103, pre-meal of 95, post of 112. If only my knees (and my left leg) didn't hurt so much, things on the physical front would be rockin' too.

I'm tired but happy. I feel loved. What could be better?

Trust Part II

I don't know that I've ever heard a trust officer grovel before... okay, maybe not actual groveling, but darned close. Money is being transferred to my account today, so that I can pay for the party and my slightly overdue mortgage payment, and they'll get the rest in motion. Moreover, he's promised to help me make a financial plan so I can rehabilitate my credit, as well as reinvesting the majority of the money.

That's as valuable as the money. I have an actual phobia about dealing with financial matters. My throat closes up, my heart pounds, my stomach knots up -- all of the symptoms of a world class anxiety attack. And this is every time I have to pay bills, do my taxes, or anything else financial. Hardly any wonder that I suck at it. I suspect aversion training via my abusive, alcoholic, but fiscally brilliant mother.

Immediate crisis averted. Onward and upward.