Idyllic

I just spent a near perfect evening with my husband. If President Bush secures a victory this evening, it'll top it off.

We went to Cafe Napoli in Clayton to celebrate my 13 years since cancer (as of yesterday, November 1st). I had three lovely glasses of the house Merlot (and have felt like singing ever since) and half an entree of chicken parmagiana. I also had a berry tart for dessert (and a bunch of water and a tasty spinach salad). Mmmm.

Then we went book shopping at the Clayton library. There is little else that I enjoy more than book shopping. The St. Louis County libraries offer hardbacks for sale at the whopping price of 50 cents each. Our closest library offers them for 25 cents - what a bargain! I picked up two books and a DVD for $2. Kinda offset the rather expensive dinner.

If you're a St. Louis area reader, I highly recommend Cafe Napoli. It meets my #1 criteria, which is non-smoking, and it is one very nice high-end restaurant. We dropped quite a bit of change, and I'm happy to do it again in a few months when it's not a special occasion and I have to paperrocksscissors with Brian about who is drinking and who is driving.

Just thought I'd share my happy mood.

hln

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Where I've Been

Well, first it was Kansas City with Brian. Much eating, drinking, and book buying. A really good time and a weekend that we deserved - perhaps a reward for the full summer of bike training.

Then I took off Tuesday for the Ft. Lauderdale area on business. I was able to briefly visit some family members in North Palm beach, FL, which was hit by Jeanne. You'd see a row of palm trees, and one of them would be uprooted and lying by its side. Seemingly random. At least half of the traffic lights were out, some completely ripped from the poles. It was crazy. Thankfully, no property damage for my relatives.

Flying out of Ft. Lauderdale on Thursday was interesting. Remember the debate? Yes, it was in Coral Gables, but Senators Kerry and Edwards flew into Ft. Lauderdale. It would not surprise me if President Bush did as well. All traffic coming into Ft. Lauderdale and leaving it was delayed a half hour to 45 minutes, and that includes Jet Blue and Southwest Airlines. As we taxied out, I saw the Kerry/Edwards plane. Kinda neat - a symbol of democracy two planes over or something like that. A ways down and also in the "private" section of the airport, a much smaller plane was painted in such a way to root on President Bush.

Back on Friday, but we've been social fiends - two parties in two nights, and yesterday was couch time watching the Packers lose (and consoling my spouse).

Back and ready to blog. Got a bunch of food-related stuff queued up. Hope I can hit at least one of those when I get back from my evening activity.

Sorry for the nearly empty blog.

Oh, St. Louisans. Anyone looking for a cat? I have a friend who, unfortunately, has some converging life issues to the point where she cannot keep hers. The cat's name is Josie, and she's 9 years old. She's not been around other cats or really exposed to children from what I know. She's a bit shy, but I believe she let me scratch her once. Give me a hand finding her a home?

hln

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Instalanche!

For Brian, not me.

Though, if this were four years ago, I would've done Elizabeth Dole face for the camera and blog posting - hearkening back to when she had the Holy Man Morgan Fairchild renditioned face, if you know what I'm talking about. As it stands, Mrs. Dole looks a bit more her age these days and, well, not quite as parodyable. That would've been worth a pretty peck o' hits, though, and I stood ready.

hln

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Volatility

I'm not the most stable human right now. It's 7:28 on a Friday evening, and I'm WORKING. Why am I working? Well, at 3 p.m., I declared myself too frustrated to work and left for home. After a calming weightlifting session and a good dinner, I rededicated myself to the task at hand. Which is trying a somewhat difficult query in MySQL - difficult because I can't get the damned thing to work. I found the nice documentation on MySQL's site, and huffed and puffed and huffed and puffed (and threw stuffed animals...because that's my temperament) but just couldn't blow this house down.

And I'm madder now that I know why.

You see, the current production-level release of MySQL doesn't support subqueries - only the 4.1 beta release. Sorry, not taking beta into a client's production environment. See, this nice person told me so in very succinct words.

Unfortunately and obnoxiously, MySQL's online documentation is seemingly for the 4.1 product, even though it's still beta. Nowhere in red will you, the skimming reader who normally finds this part of the job a breeze, see the "you can't do this here text" or that the version documented is not the production version. It's. simply. not. there.

Pardon me while I deadrenalize over my wasted time I don't have. Even the cats are running away.

hln

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Please Forgive Me, For I Have Not Posted

Not much anyway. Just returned last night from Buffalo, NY, and I brought the niceties of the weather back with me, meaning I'm probably riding this weekend instead of posting.

United Airlines was so kind to leave my luggage in DC while my plane travelled to Buffalo. This after leaving quite late - put me on the ground at about 7:35, and after waiting for luggage and filing a report, I didn't get to the hotel until 8:20 p.m. Malls close at about 9, and Heather's in jeans and needs to be wearing business casual clothing in the morning. That was fun. Bought the first skirt and pair of shoes that fit. Hotel shuttle took me to the grocery store next, where I replenished the Luna Bar supply and finally bought dinner. Oh, and I replaced all of my make-up. Never travel to a meeting in jeans; I have learned my lesson.

Luggage arrived at about 9:30 p.m., while I was at the grocery store, so everything did turn out all right. And I ate a buffalo wing the next day. Yum.

So I pray you continue visiting. I'll post as work breaks this weekend. Gotta catch up.

hln

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Survey Says

Two nights ago, I answered the phone to find a computerized survey on the other end. It started asking me about my political beliefs, and it was pretty obvious the thing was slanted right because if you answered "yes" to the questions, they were all conservative beliefs.

I spewed forth a bunch of yesses. The last question was phrased strangely, though, probably because the sponsors of the survey were too cheap to program the survey to respond to anything but yes and no.

The last question asked, "Are you male?" I answered no, and I felt weird about it, as though that were somehow negative to the Republican party.

Just a thought.

hln

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6/14/1989 - the 15th Anniversary

I posted about this last year - 6/14/89 being my first day in the working world. It's been 15 years. Wow.

Next week I am lucky enough to start a two-week vacation. I'm off work from 6/19/04 (Saturday) until 7/6/04 (the Tuesday I return). This is the longest vacation I've had since 1993, and I am really, really excited about it. More posting then, I'm sure.

The remainder of this week is dedicated to final preparations for Tour de Cure, a charity event to raise money to fight diabetes, which is Saturday. I'm wimping out and doing the 50 miles - not in shape enough to do the hundred, I don't believe. Still, that'll be a challenge. But it should be cool that day - high of 77. If only we can hold off the rain. Last year it was in the 90s.

Still time to donate (mom, here's the link).

(And many, many lots of thanks to Teresa, Mike, Harvey, Charles, and Victor.

hln

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Stormy

The St. Louis area, specifically Creve Coeur (where I work), has been ravaged by storms. Yesterday at about 2:00 p.m., the sky turned a whitish gray and spat out its first hail - dimes. It progressed to quarters, and then it treated us with assorted random golf balls. My coworkers and I watched from the window as the ice balls pinged our cars. (But not our bodies, thankfully - OW).

Oh, but that wasn't all. Soon, the weather turned violent instead of pissy, shredding most of the parking lot trees' leaves (and depositing them on our hail-stricken cars). The power went out, too, of course.

As soon as it was safe, I left - about 2:40. Home - which is 4 miles away, missed the hail storm. My car, with its new coat of leaves, probably scared the neighbors.

At approximately 4:30, a transformer blew (quite loudly) at the house. No power all night. No power in the home is good for my health...the gym had power. I spent the evening at the gym.

So this explains the no Noggle blogging for last evening. The power returned just before midnight. We had not turned off some of our lights, so the power's return was quite abrupt and shocking (to sleeping Noggles). The laundry picked back up again, the bedroom light illuminated, and various household electronic sounds occurred.

Today looks like more of the same - at least in terms of water falling from the sky and drenching the ground. And we're very, VERY lucky. The ground isn't saturated like some of the Wisconsin land we drove by over the weekend. I've seen pictures on the news of flooded neighborhoods in different parts of the midwest. Granted, the parking lot at work here DOES look like a forest floor in spots. Who says parking lots can't be parks? They share so many similar letters.

Good week to have the bike in the shop for a tune-up, too.

hln

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Good News is Always Welcome

I just got off the phone with my ENT's (ear, nose, throat) nurse. I'm as healthy as can be, which was the best news possible and not what I was expecting.

A week and a half ago, I had my normal check-up on the parotid area. I mentioned some ear ringing and, more annoying, some "ocean ear" - what I describe it as anyway - a vibration of some sort that makes noise within my ear but doesn't actually hurt. This has been an off-and-on thing for a few months.

They ran a hearing test and determine that in my right ear I have moderate hearing loss in the top two ranges. Then, the doctor ordered an MRI to make sure there wasn't a tumor in the general area causing the hearing loss and the ringing/ocean. The doctor was pretty sure it's caused by the radiation, but the question is, I guess, whether it was caused by a tumor caused by radiation.

My body just lovvvves to make tumors. I've actually had 4 (if you don't count cysts, and if you do, it's up to 7). Only one was malignant, but with that kind of track record, the likelihood of a tumor seemed pretty real to me.

But no tumor. That means I can be something other than a ball of stress figuring out details of how to deal (like how would I wear my hair if it had to be shaved for surgery? How long would I be out of work? Would my muscles atrophy? Is there enough money in savings? Is hospital food healthy enough for me, blah blah blah). I don't have to deal with anything today but work. Phew.

Only point of contention now is whether I need a hearing aid. Audiologist said "no" when I had the appointment. The doctor seems to think otherwise. So there's still a bit of drama to unfold, but it's no longer the sort that a tv show might want to film.

hln

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Design Flaw

I'm at the grocery store yesterday (Schnuck's - the one at which I refuse to buy meat now), and because I had only a couple of items, I decided to use self-checkout.

I have a six-pack of Black Cherry Propel and 3 cans of Hunt's Tomato Paste. I set my purse by the plastic bags (offered so that consumers can self bag their self-checked out goods). The "attendant" yaps at me that the purse is on the scale and is throwing off the computer. I yap back, "where does it go?"

She points to the left of the contraption. There's a metal shelf affixed there.

I don't know about you, ladies, but I'm happy to leave a can of corn or some tic tacs out of my line of sight for a few moments while I'm completing a transaction, but my purse is one big other story. No can do.

Not likely to use self-checkout at that store again.

(I think the only reasons we still go is that it's very close to home and offers cheap cat food and cheap cat litter.)

hln

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Back From Warmer, Non-Working Days

If you read Brian, you know that we spent Wednesday through Saturday (flying back Sunday) in and around West Palm Beach, FL. It's one of my favorite vacation spots - know my way around, even.

The time away was idyllic. I took a laptop but only used it for fun, really. Of course, world nastiness (the deaths of 9 in Fresno; the deaths of many more in Madrid) occurred in hyperbolic fashion while we were gone, so it's not like one can truly escape.

But we certainly tried. Ate a lot of good food that will ensure immediate future biker shorts wearing will be embarrassing. Drank a decent amount of watered-down beach cocktailage. Split a bottle of wine with Brian only to later discover that ordering same wine by the glass was considerably cheaper. Got sunburned only while driving in the convertable. Walked at/in/around the ocean's edge. Squealed appropriately at unexpected large waves. Removed large amounts of sand from my being.

But, today, back at work. I vowed during this vacation that the world will not end if I work less (on average). That I NEED to work less so that my only activities are more than less-than-necessary gym attendance, a blog entry every day or two, and much inactive drooling braindead and bodydead Netflix watching.

Oh, and one of the best parts. Florida restaurants are non-smoking. It seemed like all of the general Singer Island/North Palm Beach/Lake Park area was populated by non-smoking residents. The air was not chewy.

Not St. Louis, of course. Back to Earth.

hln

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Sinking in the Lack of Book Review Sand

So, if you read Brian, you know that he writes a review of every book he reads. Not a bad practice, I do say so myself. Matter of fact, I, too, tried to do the same, and now I find I'm about 12 books behind since the last review I wrote back in November, I believe.. Yes, I read quite a bit, too.

Why does this matter? It matters because Brian gets fun and interesting e-mail from AUTHORS. Yes, seriously, he does. Just yesterday he got a message from the author of this book he reviewed.

And it was nice, an, "oh thanks for reviewing me." He found it while Googling himself, and the text of the e-mail was so cute - almost as if he was embarrassed to be Googling himself. Dude, start a blog! Narcissism. Embrace it. WE ALL GOOGLE OURSELVES. Like, y'know, several times daily. Well, maybe that's only me. [clears throat]

So, up and coming in the next few weeks - reviews for these fine tomes.

• Shut Up and Sing - Laura Ingraham
  
• Wild Justice - Wilbur Smith
  
• the substance of style - Virginia Postrel
  
• The New Yorker Book of Cat Cartoons
  
• Ultimate Fitness - Gina Kolata
  
• Demolition Angel - Robert Crais
  
• The Sinner - Tess Gerritsen
  

Note, Mr. Craig, we chronic self-Googlers also exaggerate; clearly, 7 books is not 12. I am sparing my audience of things such as Professional VB.NET 2nd Edition...for now.

Then, there's the in progress stack.

• Seizure - Robin Cook
  
• Split Second - David Baldacci
  
• cyberselfish - Paulina Borsook
  
• Ashes to Ashes - Richard Kluger
  

Then, we have the in-progress books. And, soon, of course, The 50 Best (and Worst) Business Deals

Oh, Linda Barnes, Google yourself. I love your work and was very excited to see that the next Carlotta Carlyle book is out next month (in a couple of weeks! SQUEAL). Very excited indeed. I plan to be in Boston in the next few months; let's do lunch.

I think before I can get Robert B. Parker's attention, Brian and I need to put in a few more mega sessions at the gym so that we can prove to the grand master Parker that we use our copy of Sports Illustrated Training With Weights ever so religiously (well, it is an input...) I'm flipping through the book - yep, very familiar. But in case the venerated Parker is a Google hound, give us a ring, we'll pick up lunch at the Ritz.

I think that's enough obnoxiousness for a morning. No, I must give you one more thing. I have a Book Mark Award (yes, it's spelled that way). It has a grape scratch-and-sniff sticker on it that says "Very Good." It also says "You've Read 25 books." The 25 is written in with red pen.

I'd suspect this book mark (sic) is 20 plus years old. It's signed "Heather I" on the back in cursive. I tend to keep things.

hln

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The Louis Armstrong Jazz Award

Back when I was in high school, the band director had some plaques in his office. One was the Louis Armstrong Jazz Award plaque which showed a dark bronze something - not sure what you call it - a likeness maybe? It was of his head and shoulders, and it had been hanging in the office for quite some time. Evidently, several years before I arrived at the school, the award ceased to be awarded (for lack of a better term). No jazz band - no need for a jazz award.

Louis' likeness on the plaque was a bit loose, too. So, as my own personal amusement, every time I would go in that office and be left to my own devices for a few moments, I'd turn him upside down. He was easy enough to right again, so no harm done. And it was kind of a dead plaque.

But, right before my senior year, my band director retired. That brought in a new band director, one with an affinity for jazz. And, seeing as I was primarily a trumpet player, I signed up. I was okay - just okay. My range on trumpet's not really suited for jazz. But I'll spoil it for you - I got the Louis Armstrong Jazz Award for 1989 - 1990. No, really, I did. Here's how.

We did this rendition of When I Fall In Love - you probably know it as a song from the Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack. It had a flute solo in it, and, well, that was my secondary instrument, the one I actually played when I entered high school (but that's another long story that someday maybe I'll tell). So, sure, I'll play your flute solo, band director...and play trumpet on the rest of the songs.

If you're muscially inclined in the woodwind/brass arena, you'll know this is more difficult than it originally sounds, difficult to make both instruments (especially flute after playing trumpet) sound as they should. The embouchure (or mouth formation) for the two instruments is quite different - so much so that when I played piccolo for the high school's production of The Wiz the year before, I gave my trumpet up for a week before the performances. It was probably that act (the flute/trumpet switch for the solo) and the difficulty thereof that landed me the award.

Now someday I have to go back to see if my name's engraved. And the direction ole Louis faces, of course.

G'night.

hln

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Open and Closed

And so this evening, I'm on the phone with the Venerable Mother, and we're talking about jury duty. Which she has tomorrow. Here in St. Louis, it's done pretty efficiently. I actually served in September of 2002 on a two-day trial.

So we're discussing the particulars of our different Missouri counties, and somehow I mentioned the voir dire process and what they asked me. One of the questions was "Do you believe that a person can be in chronic pain?"

The answer is yes. And I believe that my answer of "yes" is the only thing that kept me on the jury panel. And the reason for the yes is that my father had some pretty bad back problems stemming from multiple things including a back surgery around 1981. He was diganosed with arachnoiditis, retired early, and had to complete a daily regimen of exercises just to slow the increase in symptoms. But this is actually a digression. My mother asked me about me and TMJ, which is a byproduct of the parotid surgery (only on the right side). "Naaaa," I said. I've really only had about one month or so where it was anywhere near chronic. Strangely, that was in 1994 - a couple of years after the surgery, so I'm not sure it makes any sense.

The point of all this, you ask? Well, I said to the Venerable Mother, "It really only hurts to the point of being excruciating when I'm at the dentist and have to keep my mouth open for an hour or more."

And she said, "Well, it hurts when I have to keep my mouth closed for an hour or more." For, you see, folks, my mother is QUITE the talker.

Much laughter ensued, and I said, "Can I quote you on that?" And she said, "sure."

And there you have it. Immortalized.

hln

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"That's Not Really Saddam Hussein" and Other Travel Stories

Warning - another of Heather's disjointed travel stories. Kinda like this one.

So I'm flying out of Lambert this morning, and an old lady (who's wearing salmon-colored slacks and has six great-grandchildren she's never met but is about to) says to me while gesturing to CNN broadcasting from above:

"They say they got him, that Saddam Hussein. But I don't think they did." "Hmm" I say - very noncomittal, and much more interested in my imminent breakfast. "He has so many that look like him, you know," she continues.

And I think - wow, what a fun conspiracy that would be. Double #247, come on down! You're the next contestant in the DNA is Gonna Be Right!

Naaa.

So I fly into New Hampshire to rent a car and drive into Massachusetts (did I spell that right?). And in the airport, I notice a Dunkin' Donuts. "Got to make the donuts." Yeah, that. St. Louis has driven them outta town with Donut King taking over the previous locations. Also, of course, there's Krispy Kreme, and some of the groceries make their own. I shouldn't discount the local donutteries (like University City Donuts). But Dunkin' Donuts - maker of the best apple fritter ever. I noted it.

I drove 40 some odd miles to get to my destination, and, I kid you not, I must've seen EIGHT to TEN freakin' roadside free-standing Dunkin' Donuts shops. It's amazing. I saw more Dunkin' Donuts than I saw Subways. Than McDonald's. How do they survive?

Walgreen's is kinda like that in Missouri. My mother has this theory that the stores are just pods sent from outer space. Phoom! A new Walgreen's. "Hey, wait, Bob, was that drugstore there last week?" Me, I have a sound effect for it. If you've ever played Civilization III, the sound effect is the noise that's made when you turn your settler into a city. If you haven't played, get thee to Best Buy, spend $10, and get the game. At least then you'll have a point of reference for this silly post.

I'm sitting in the business center of my hotel, not having connectivity in my room. Because of this, posting will be sporadic or nonexistent for the next few days.

And if you don't hear from me by Friday, assume one of those Dunkin' Donuts stores ate me to feed its profits. Or something.

hln

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Candy-Coated, Baby

Brian and I both work full time. We sometimes talk about the not-too-distant future when perhaps this will not be necessary. I'm not sure who started it, but the euphemism for the non-worker is the one who "sits" (or lies) "on the couch and eats bon-bons all day."

Of course, in recent years, that's been amended (if the person of reference is me) to "sit on the couch and eat bon-bons for 10% of the day and spend the rest of the day working 'em off." Yeah.

At any rate, last evening, we had the bon-bon discussion for some reason. And I said, "what is a bon-bon?"

And Brian intimated that he thinks it's a little individual ice cream treat. Later, of course, after I'd looked up the definition, he CLAIMED that this was not the ONLY kind of bon-bon, but rather it was HIS mental bon-bon. Or something.

To me, a bon-bon is a chocolate-covered cherry candy or something like that. And, realistically, I could probably down six or so without feeling sick, but, OY, that seventh one might just do me in.

In a non-related discussion that I referred to today while conversing with Hans, I had a joke with a friend that overeating different foods led to said non-burned calories appearing en masse as attached to one body part. Like, y'know, fudge goes to your nose. He said that the Nutri-Grain billboards have helped him avoid Cinnabons and their Siren calls at airports. Not bad, eh? (And in a non-related note direct to Hans, gotta love this good software design.) Someone call in [suspenseful music] The Tester.

Wow, I'm all over the place tonight. Blogging overdose. So, back on topic. Now YOU know what a bon-bon is. And you know what it signifies in the Noggle household. And how to keep it off your middle finger? Good-good.

hln

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The Grinning Masturbator

Yes, this week I'm starting early, hoping to post a script on the wall of the Champagne Room.

It was a cool October day in 1994. Yes, really, it was, but I was still wearing a really, really short dress (which I still have and wear). I was casually dating a young man - this being my senior year of college - and I had taken him out for his, heh, 19th birthday earlier that day. I was also wearing rather high heels (because said young man was 6'5"...like 'em tall).

I normally had class that lasted up until almost 4:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I'm certain this was a Tuesday or a Thursday. But, no, not this day. For some reason my late class was cancelled, so I was walking across the street (which was done using an underpass) and into the "nicest" parking lot on campus. It cost $65 a year to park there, and I had splurged, seeing as this was my last semester of college, fall of '94.

My car was near the back of the lot, which faced Elm Street, so this perhaps can be filed under Nightmare on, but it's just too damned funny.

I approached the car, and I was on the same row as it but walking west. Heels slow a woman down, so when I heard a car behind me, I figured I was in its way and stepped to the right.

The car did not pass.

I have this uncanny sense sometimes. Do you? Do you just KNOW when something's not quite right? Or when someone is watching you a bit too intently for your comfort?

I turned my head to the left, and driving slowly alongside me was a bearded man (dark hair, dark beard). His automobile was a current (at that time) tan coupe, a Camry or something. He was smiling...oh was he smiling. And he was in motion, even if his car was really, well, not.

And y'know what? He wasn't wearing any pants. And that wasn't the stick shift and a moving "OK" sign. Yeah - he's grinning pretty madly - as if it's normal for a dark-bearded man to be lying (driving) in wait to stun me with his original rendition of air penis. I mean, WHAT THE HELL!

Well, what's a girl to do? Original reaction was just shock, I said "Oh Shit!" There was no one around to hear me, but I didn't feel like I was in any immediate danger, so I did a logical thing (besides laughing hysterically) - I walked toward other people instead of tipping this guy off as to which car was mine.

And I didn't look back.

I went to work - American National Property and Casual Insurance. ANPAC. I mentioned to the girls and ladies there what had just happened, and they all said, "report the guy!" That hadn't even come across my mind, but, yeah, I could've been a 16 year-old or something, or easily shocked. That could really have bothered me instead of eliciting the "Oh Shit!" response.

So, I'm living with my parents that semester. I come home, and they've got some company - can't remember who. I tell my story, crack my mother up, and she agrees I should report the guy. So I do on the next day, and campus' police system has had other complaints for a man fitting a similar description.

Some time passes, probably a year. I've actually moved to Columbia, MO at this point and am enrolled in grad school and working as a legal secretary. My mother calls me at work. Campus police gave her a ring trying to find me to see if I can come on down and look at some mug shots, attempt to identify the guy. I tell her, "sure." She said the officer explained who he was and why he was calling, and she said, "oh, you mean the grinning masturbator?" At which point he tried to keep his composure but let slip a few chuckles.

So, call me they did - at work. And the officer said, "do you think you could identify him? And I said, "clothed or unclothed?"

Turns out, the pictures that they offered me a few weeks later when I went home for a weekend were not the guy. But, hey, great story, no?

And I really don't like dark beards. I think all dark-beareded men must own some stashed away, uh, stained? 1994 tan coupe or 10. Sorry Harvey, but now you have the whole story why Heather doesn't like bearded dudes.

hln

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Just Another Thursday Night

I met my first "other blogger" this evening, none other than the eloquent Virginia Postrel. Actually, it was more like Brian and Heather Noggle fawning over Virigina Postrel, who was speaking at the Junior League here in the St. Louis area with her newest book, The Substance of Style, as the featured topic. I'll be reviewing the book over the weekend, likely, and I'll include a review of the presentation as well. I have about 60 pages remaining to finish reading.

Well, the whole thing went more like, y'know, the hobbyist musician who tells Billy Joel, "Hi, I play piano, too." I mentioned that I had a weblog, and Viriginia says, "oh, what's it called?"

"Angelweave."

"Oh, I've seen that."

*beam*

But back to this picture thing. This isn't an especially representative picture of either of us. My hair doesn't usually look like it's been featured in a nuclear war, and Virginia carries a lot more presence in her photographs, which I'm certain usually feature stronger backgrounds than the still-life waiter, but you take what you can. (A couple of rules here - any mention of my shoulders had better include the word "awe" in them in regard to their 41 1/2 inch breadth, and there will be no caption contests. Ms. Postrel, I'm certain, agrees).



hln

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Wayward Parotid Gland, Part 5

And this is it - the end.

Part One is located here.
Part Two is located here.
Part Three is located here.
Part Four is located here

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Posted by: hln at 12:03 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
Post contains 1371 words, total size 8 kb.

Wayward Parotid Gland, Part 4

I've turned off comments for this post. If you do have something to say or a similar experience, my e-mail is angelweaving@hotmail.com.

Part One is located here.
Part Two is located here.
Part Three is located here.

more...

Posted by: hln at 08:29 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 1258 words, total size 7 kb.