Abomination?

On the morrow. I've used that thrice today, for the record. My permanent record. Which I will someday catalog. Whoah! Hold on a sec. I have gone beyond a mere digression here and lapsed into a short-circuited synaptic train-of-thought derailment. I'm not sorry either, Dear Reader. I will begin anew. On the morrow (4x). Payday. Payday party. Cheesecake. Are you with me still? You may not be for long. Don't despair. You are not alone. I am. I altered a no-bake berry cheesecake recipe. And then I transgressed. Way beyond the pale of any acceptable culinary conduct. Like way beyond. A Frankensteinish fusion of the pretentious and the mocked. I call it "Organische Erdbeerekäsekuchen mit Twinkies." That's pronounced "Tvinkies" for those playing at home, and it translates as Organic Strawberry Cheesecake with Twinkies. You may now pronounce the "W." Hoo boy! Check out that umlaut!

Mum's the word

A sunny nearly-summer afternoon. Scratch that. A sunny nearly-summer afternoon!!! What to do? I know! I'll catalog a shelf of books. Not just any shelf, but the final shelf. In my living room anyway. But when I logged into LibraryThing there was a comment from another user. How impossibly cool! Like way chilly. Way, way!

"Hello. Would you please add the author 'Groiler Incorporated' to your Book of Popular Science? Doing so will allow it to be combined with the rest of the set. Please leave me a comment once you have done so. Thanks!"

I will admit it's a bit weird for me to catalog my books online. It's a bit weird to catalog my Pez dispensers in FileMaker. But, I do not perform database maintenance on other people's private libraries, even if they are available for public viewing. Do not misundertand me Dearest of Dear Readers. I really did appreciate the comment. Really truly I did. I responded to the commenter:

"Thank you for your suggestion. Initially, after reading your comment, I added Grolier Inc. as an author. This morning I consulted AACR2 cataloging rules and determined that as publisher of the set Book of Popular Science, Grolier would not be given a corporate author entry, primary or added. I really do appreciate your comment, and, for the record, it is 'Grolier,' not 'Groiler." It's what I do for a living. Thank you."

And I meant it.

Finally, for the time being, the moment even, D.R., I have added a link to My Library. Having completed most of my cataloging, I decided it was time. It's the link that says "My Library." You knew that though. Tool around if you'd like. I won't tell.

Cuckoo for...what?

Post interrupted. Before it began. I have no proof. You may choose to believe me. Or not. As with most things, it is of no consequence. I have been neglecting nostalgic waxing about cereal. And the golden sunny Saturday mornings of my childhood. I bought two boxes of cereal at the dollar store. A buck apiece. Knock-off brands of what I believe, what I hope will be, Cocoa Puffs. Oh to be cuckoo for these, as I am of those! Kroger and Food Lion. Both brands named Cocoa Crunchies. One is "sweetened corn cereal made with real cocoa." The other "frosted corn cereal made with real cocoa." Both promise to be a good source of calcium. I assume from the milk one pours over them. Serving suggestions enlarged to show detail. They have no idea. Without having opened either, I think I prefer the Food Lion brand at this point of the study. The box features a monkey. Ape? Whatever. A primate.

But...... Before I could fully form in my mind what would have been, could have been, should have been, is, a tiresome attempt at a cutesy cereal post, there was a frantic knock at the door. Really. Frantic. At least a dozen knocks before I could make it the ten feet to the door. One should never open the door simply because the knocks are frantic. The same should hold true for door bells as well. I wouldn't know for sure about door bells. Just a guess. Peeking through the peep hole, I saw Brian. I knew what that meant. Gutting, fileting, slicing, dredging in sugar and salt, and then cleaning up the inevitable mess. And then incorporating it into the intended post. There is no 'after' picture Dear Reader. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Context

I was pondering metadata today. Like a lot of days. Better not to ask, Dear Reader. A little alliterative leap later and I was toggling between metadata and matter. Dark matter. Dark metadata. An image of something from either The X Files or the Twilight Zone (you choose) appeared in my mind's eye. A dark oily shadow of dark metadata. The notion washed over me. It wasn't cold like outer space, but warm. Warm like what Paco must have felt as he bled out through his severed femoral artery in The Capital of the World. Warm like peeing in a swimming pool. (Kids!) And it tingled too. Just ask James Earl Jones. I'm referring to his role in Field of Dreams, not his work as the voice of that denizen of the Dark Side, Darth Vader. And now we are back where we began. Circuitous. That word, circuitous, warrants a brief digression. You'll love this. I was watching the Giants-Phillies game the other day. An outfielder took a rather circuitous route to make a play on a fly ball. The announcer noted this, but pronounced the word "sirkweeshus." It took me a moment of utterly dumbfounded pondering to figure that one out. He'd better get a new word-a-day calendar.

QWERTY?

Over the few weeks past I grew from being tired of my old computer, to being frustrated with and by it, to needing to step away from it lest someone, or something be injured. Friday was pivotal in my Jedi Geek training. I decided to buy a new computer. I felt a lightness only those who have experienced unexplainable shutdowns and screen freeze-ups suddenly feel when that dread has been lifted. I logged on to the old guy and did a little research about new computers, trying not to let on to what I was up to. I think it knew what was going on, and accepted its fate. I contacted my Sith Lord to make sure that I would be able to transfer all my documents, photos, bookmarks, etc...from the old to the new. (I love thumb drives. I love 'em, I love 'em, I love 'em!) I called my ISP and discovered that the hook-up should be "plug and play." (Search "plug and play" in this blog. I dare you.) I could just re-install FileMaker. It seemed so straightforward that on Saturday night I couldn't get to sleep straight away because I was worried that it really couldn't be THAT easy. Sunday, I went to the store which my research had shown to offer the model I was to buy, at the best price. We went inside and waited a few minutes before someone offered to help us. I said what I was looking for, asked a few questions, the answers to which I had already learned from reading the box, and said I'd take it. That was it. Really. I spent about as much time looking through PEZ dispensers at the candy store earlier that day. There was a bit of an adrenalin rush. And Dear Reader, guess what? It was as easy as I had thought it really couldn't have been as earlier reported in these lines. I did have to call the ISP folks for a wee bit of help. That call ended with me thanking the person on the other end of the line, and wishing them a "great evening." Then I burned my first CD. It was, it is, 170 photos from the Special Olympics softball and bocce tournament, held here in Eugene on Saturday. That's the day between the decision to buy, and the actual purchase. Sweet! Like way chilly! (Search that phrase in this blog as well. I double dog dare you!) Friday was interesting for another reason as well. I stumbled across an objet d'art high on a shelf at work. It was hiding under a little tarp-like cover that was covered in substantial dust. Really substantial dust. It was an old Royal typewriter. I cleaned it up a bit and found a place for it in the cubicle. A perfect fit. In every sense.