Hah. There was a guy in Roman fighting getup last night also, but it was the leather flappy skirt thing. There were also several boys wearing orange Zorro type masks and gstrings with a flashing mini pumpkin in front covering their junk. But we were at a gay bar, so this was not surprising.

say I left a turkey and bacon sandwich in a car for six-seven hours at about 40 degrees F last night. Refrigerated after I got home. Can I eat it? It smells okay and I've nuked it for a couple minutes.

I wouldn't worry about that.

Sounds fine to me, Zen. 40 degrees Fahrenheit is an appropriate food storage temperature, if I remember my warning labels correctly.

Too late! Sandwich is gone. I do love a turkey and bacon sandwich.

I am enjoying my morning with no plans. Catching up on some tv.

Last night I didn't sleep great because of my cold but had a weird nightmare that I was in some foreign airport with Lisah and Bob and I didn't have the itinerary and lost them while I was looking for my jacket (?) and then wasn't sure where they would be and which gate I needed to go to and was afraid I'd miss the flight and why didn't I have this information...so, Lisah, please don't lose me in an airport, mmkay?

Timelies all!

My electric toothbrush gave up the ghost so I went to Target to get a new one. Also some knee socks, as a few pairs of mine recently developed holes and had to be discarded. Otherwise, quiet day here.

Lisah, please don't lose me in an airport, mmkay?

If I can do 2+ weeks in the UK with my dad and not lose him I think I can keep track of one Meara! (Technically, he did get lost once but my friends were in charge of him that evening. And he eventually found his way to where we were staying.)

I am farting around at home while Hec takes Matilda to her soccer playoffs (farting around will eventually include vacuuming and working on the room that is now just a cluttered room but will eventually become mostly-hers-but-also-still-Emmett's-when-he's-back-on-break, but is right now just farting), and I just got the greatest bitter insult ever!

I've been counter-trolling a troll on the comments of an Atlantic article about new NIH funding for studies into possible causes of and treatment options for ME/CFS -- lots of people with chronic fatigue and other neurodegenerative disorders have been very excited about the news and were trying to share thoughts and experiences and findings from recent studies, and this troll disrupted every single conversation with rants about how it's all psychiatric disorders and everyone just needs to exercise more and anyone who thinks any of these diseases are actual diseases is both brainwashed and participating in a witch hunt.

So I started fucking with him (presuming it's a him), just to keep him occupied so everyone else could actually converse. And after many, many go-rounds of mutual sneering and mustache-twirling, he inquired haughtily how anything I was saying differed in any way from a witch hunt. I said, "Well, there's the notable lack of me dragging people into court on unfalsifiable charges and seeing them sentenced to burn, hang or be pressed to death beneath hundreds of pounds of boulders," and his cutting retort was, "So. You sure seem to know a lot about witch hunts."

I'm charmed and baffled. Clearly he's annoyed, and clearly he wants to get a rise out of me, but... how is that supposed to hurt? What kind of response was he expecting?

How dare you -- how DARE you accuse me of possessing historical knowledge and being factually accurate! Good day. I SAID GOOD DAY, SIR!

I made cardamom-molasses cookies for yesterday's office potluck

They look good. Were they good? And how are they "smoky"?

How dare you -- how DARE you accuse me of possessing historical knowledge and being factually accurate!

Clearly your knowledge of actual witch hunts qualifies you to conduct metaphorical ones.

Clearly your knowledge of actual witch hunts qualifies you to conduct metaphorical ones.

Primarily, he informs me, by ridicule. My pointing and laughing at his tantrum is exactly like a historical witch hunt, which I would have known if I had actually paid attention in history class. The interrogations and imprisonments and trials and occasional executions and cat-burnings were merely incidental to the witch hunters' primary weapons of pointing and laughing.