Now I'm reanimating this thing like it's 2002. We will be posting status updates as though it were Facebook or Twitter or something, but it will be entirely read-only; the data will live on my machines. The old haikubot will reappear at some point, but there's a lot of rotten old bits that need sprucing up before they're suitable for publishing again. Likewise, the old daghlian.net voice is likely to be absent. My decade of marginal literacy has eroded my ability to make sensible text, so there will be less of it.
Too many side projects and distractions (and vacations) nowadays, anyway. It's all fine.
We're en route to Munich for a week and a half of doing stuff, and I sincerely hope that it manages to be even half as much fun as seems likely.** As I typed this there was a medical emergency on the plane; it seems resolved for the moment. We will ensure that the trip is at least memorable: lots of space on the computer for pictures, and lots of charging machinery for the batteries upon which all this junk now seems to rely.
There is even the offer of duty free stuff. Would be better to sleep, though.
Christmas shopping is once again trying to drain the joy out of the holiday for me. When we were kids this was the most excellent of all possible holidays because all you had to do was to sit around and get excited, and maybe even get to have your grandparents visit for a few days. Now it's all logistics.
However: I love waking up in my own house on Christmas morning with nothing left to do** A-and this year there is snow up at the ski areas already. More to anticipate. but hang around in my pajamas and watch the kids get excited while K and I drink coffee. The pain of planning is more than repaid.
It has been snowing and I have not booked any ski trips for the winter yet. I desperately want to go out to Utah or Colorado for a little bit, but I'm just not entirely sure how that's going to happen. I realize that in the grand scheme of things this is not a big deal.
We had most of the grandparents in town over the course of the weekend, and got not even one really good picture of everyone. Some pictures were tolerable; all visitors were wonderful, and the kids just about popped.
But the show they were all in town to see was pretty great. I had never actually seen any version of the Nutcracker at all, but the Urban Nutcracker really had a great deal to recommend it. High on the list was the older kid's presence in a couple of scenes, especially the one where she taps for five or ten minutes. Also nice was that the dancing was a mix of ballet with tap and jazz and hip hop and a bit of swing, a bit of other stuff...and the music similarly spanned a bunch of styles, though the jazz renditions were by far the best. The lead hip hop and tap dancers were superb, and lent the thing an air of fun that two hours of ballet wouldn't have had. The young dancers, particularly the kid and her fellow tappers, were so visibly having a good time that I would have enjoyed the show even had it not been carried off excellently, which it was.
(There were about a dozen kids and a bunch of adults waiting with us to greet the kid at the stage door after the show, and she just about broke the happyometer.)
On Sunday night we went to dinner at the Fairmount Grill, which our neighbors opened up this spring. The new waiter they hired needs to pick it up a bit, but the food was even better than I had remembered. The older kid went from skeptical of my poutine to eating a good fraction of it, and the younger kid got the best (and creamiest) macaroni and cheese we've had in a long time. Mom and K and I were also pleased.
K has the older kid at a rehearsal that starts (!) at nine o'clock at night. The best part is that they were originally supposed to arrive at six, and so with three hours to kill she left the kid and her friend at the rehearsal and left to cool her heels at a nearby bar, and reports to be eating lobster bisque and pulling back a cocktail. The kid is going to be a wreck tomorrow and, indeed, through the weekend: she has rehearsals all week and then a Friday night performance, two Saturday, and one Sunday afternoon. When I got her up this morning after school had already started she sat up and looked at the clock, which read 8:30, and said, "Oh, it's so early!"
At least they'll know their parts cold, but I'm not sure how much booze and lobster bisque K can handle night after night.
Christmas is approaching fast enough that it threatens to arrive before I get all my gift acquisition/creation taken care of. The public spaces and commercial radio stations have already been taken over by Christmas music, which is how you know that the holidays will arrive within the next six or seven weeks. That commerce so early usually causes me to already be tired of Christmas by the time it arrives. It's a shame, because as a kid I always thoroughly enjoyed Christmas for about a week every year; and now by the time that week rolls around I'm already completely burned out, sick of the songs and ready to put some distance between us and the irritatingly short days around the solstice. I do find, however, that there isn't anything that will make me grow tired of waking up on Christmas morning itself with the kids all excited to see if Santa came, and to have a cup of coffee in my pajamas in my own house, and even the Christmas music K and the kids put on manages to survive one or two rotations before I override it with something I haven't heard hundreds of times in December. I do so while mumbling aloud about how Barb did this same thing** Note that the Frank Sinatra Christmas album was and is excellent, especially by the standards of the genre, but I had memorized every note of it by junior high; and this was probably the twentieth time listening to it that year. It was time for a change. one Christmas Eve when I was in high school, abruptly saying, "I can't stand it!" and replacing Frank Sinatra with The Who or something.
Knowing all this, the boy has been cheering me up for the holidays by requesting that we listen to The White Stripes whenever his sister and mother are out of earshot. It is obviously impossible to tell him no.
What I want for Christmas this year is for it to snow a lot up north so we can ski a lot this year. See what you can do about making that happen, please.
Administrative note: I have been wasting an unreasonably large fraction of my free time digging into every new programming framework that comes along, and now that they have all finally begun to look the same it's time to stop. Among other things, that means reanimating what was once Electric Josh, which went to sleep with the outgoing Bush administration. The old one is around on this site if you really, really want to dig it up; you're reading the new one, which I'm writing in raw HTML because that way everything is easy.