Shh...don't mention the war!
Update from Crazed Weasel Land:
1) I now have a DNA strand tattoo, around my left upper arm. It hurt less than I thought it would. It is now a bit itchy - a week and one day old.
2) I am also now on ravelry - screen name is NeuroLiz; say hi, if you've a mind to. I discovered there are a bunch of - gasp! - neuro people on there, and oh my was that ever exciting. Yay! Beside myself with glee. I can now grump about WTF is the deal with Gingrich delivering the keynote address at SfN in November.
3) Yarn Harpy is now a married woman! Yay! Congratulations, to a wonderful lady!
(Allrighty, there's a necessary aside here: amongst the wedding guests was a very hot Marine in dress blues. This provided entertainment for many, many hours, in those moments when something of greater importance was not taking place. Many thanks to Witchypoo, for starting it.)
4) Classes are going well. My draft paper on the meaning of human existence got an A. Now to revise it and hopefully remain as dazzlingly articulate as I was the first time around. I'm finding it difficult to write pieces as short as my professors ask for - not impossible, just frustrating. Weasel tends not to be concise, you may have noticed. Oh, yes: also I am procrastinating writing up my lab exercise. I so rock at procrastinating.
5) The hard drive on my laptop has entered terminal phase of little machine Alzheimers - no I still haven't replaced it, shhh - and has forgotten that it has anything stored on it at all. Also it makes weird noises.
6) Rhinebeck is coming! Oh, boy! Are you going? Hm? I'm driving out with kids and dog in tow to my sister's, which is close to the festivities. A fun time shall be had by all.
There, I think that covers the major points. Two short bits of musing, now:
What is it with men in their twenties?? Pluses: often very cute, often single. Minuses: often struggling to figure out the whole "dealing with women" thing, still getting used to being legal adults.
There's a breathtaking post on Daily Kos about the war here. Go on; Hunter is one of the best voices out there. Back now? Good. (Yes, I want to marry him, too. I hear he's taken. Boo hoo.)
The hot Marine mentioned a few moments ago is one of those guys who's an idealized version of the U.S. military: tall, handsome, honorable, superbly trained, sharp as a razor's edge. He's survived thus far, and that's a very good thing. I'm pretty sure there was combat-related hardware decorating his jacket. I've never met a hot Marine before, but this one was delighted to dance with me (even though he says he's a terrible dancer). And I found myself thinking, wow, that is one finely honed body. And this fucking war is not worth that fine young man's body. And there are 160,000+ identical other reasons over there right now. Entire brigades of these have to push themselves to the limits of their endurance and strength - and those limits are way, way beyond anything I can come close to - just to keep from getting their asses shot off. What for?