May 15th, 2005


Week of May 8-14 (belated)

One acceptance, three rejections. Yay, end of drought! You all heard that bit already. Still.

We had a fine weekend in Omaha. I did more driving than usual and thus less reading than usual, and I got no work done whatsoever this weekend. These things have been known to happen from time to time.

As Jen The World's Best Lab Partner was wont to say, I'm beat-down, dog-tired, and half-dead. (Jen actually said "tahrd" and "daid," but never mind.) And hungry for contact with my normal world, so I'm answering some e-mails before I finish reading Bury the Chains: Prophets, Slaves, and Rebels in the First Human Rights Crusade. Not the most refreshing book, this, but definitely worth one's time, if one has an interest in either slavery and its abolition, or the British Empire of that period, or possibly the Caribbean. I keep thinking that a Patrick O'Brian book is what I need to follow this, and it's extremely lucky that dd_b has lent me the next in the series so I can just start it as soon as I like. Hmm. Perhaps this is not so much luck as consideration, but I believe I can live with that.

When I think that this is the week before we go to GR and next week is the week before markgritter's birthday party, I feel even more tired. So perhaps I'll think of something else instead.

Open letters to obnoxious drivers on I80 and I35

Dear Sirs:

I am rather small, rather femmey, and decidedly female. I drive a little white Saturn. For some of the drive when you were behaving most obnoxiously, I was singing along with Liz Phair tunes in my soft folky alto.

I submit to you, therefore, that I have entirely conceded any contest of manliness, and that you may consider yourselves the victors and go home in the warm fuzzy glow of your manliness without revving the engines of your pickup trucks at me, exceeding the speed limit by 20 mph or more, or attempting to simulate humping my bumper with your bumper. I will believe in your prowess without demonstrations. You win, I lose, okay? Now go home and give yourself and the pickup both cold showers if that's what it takes.


Dear Madame:

I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was imperative for you to go over 80 mph with your small children bouncing around the backseat. I thought that 75 would do for less than half a mile while I passed the gentleman in the Winnebago. Please accept my apologies for detaining you for those 20 extremely crucial seconds, and I hope your throat is not sore from all the yelling.


Dear Fish-Bumper Christians:

You know that bumper sticker that says, "Jesus loves you, but the rest of us think you're a jerk"? Yah. That.

If you're going to advertise Christ on your chrome, for His sake please stop cutting me off at 75 mph with 2 inches to spare. As much as you want me to know that you love Him, please schedule face-to-face meetings with Him on your own time and let me do the same.


Dear pigs:

I know it's not your fault, and you would probably prefer not to be taken to slaughter if you could express a preference. Still: you stink. You make me ill. In both cases literally. Get off the road.


Dear Omahan:

"Freedom through military victory" has to be one of the scariest bumper stickers I have ever seen in my life. You know the song? Really, all I am saying is give peace a chance. Not indefinitely, necessarily. Just...y' maybe a first option? "Freedom through political and economic measures and only military victory if necessary," maybe? "Freedom through working out sensible alternatives together whenever possible"? I realize that I am a long-haired hippie weirdo-freak* for mentioning this, but dead people are not notoriously free, so maybe something else for a starter might be nice.


*Singin' Writin' Weirdo-Freak, actually.