Oh yes, and before I forget... Congratulations are in order for my new mistress.


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Hah! Make of that whatever you like. :P

My Life in 2030 -- Version 3.0:

Sebastian jumped off his bike and whipped out his phone, flipping it open and entering his code. The garage door began to open up, and Sebastian wheeled his bike forward into the garage. The garage was empty, as he expected when he got home. Parking his bike on the side of the garage, he pushed another button on his phone and the door closed again.

No one was home, just the way he had planned -- he had left the library three hours before he had said he would. Of course, he'd finished reading all he needed to in the hour he'd been at the library, but he had felt no need to tell his mother that he didn't need the extra time at the library. It had been like that for the three years they'd operated under this arrangement.

Hungry, Sebastian went to the fridge and pulled out the sandwich that he had prepared before he left in the morning. He was in a hurry, but he was also careful; he was certain to eat the sandwich over the sink, and made certain that he was done chewing and free from crumbs. Sated and satisfied that he was clean, he headed into the basement.

The basement of their house was like most basements -- the rec room at the bottom of the stairs had a home theater system and an older couch. The door to the right led to the other half of the basement which was unfinished and mostly filled with laundry , off season athletic equipment and the various detritus of family life. Sebastian wasn't interested in most of the junk though -- he had a very specific purpose.

He had discovered it a month before, while looking through cardboard boxes of old books. When he opened one of the boxes, rather than spines, he saw a mass of plastic, aluminum and what seemed like tangled extension cord. He didn't give it a second though, and just went on to the next box at the time. Two days later however, he happened on some old vids on the net, and got an idea. Back in the basement the next afternoon, he found out that he was right in his surmise.

It was a...

Ah, google IS good for something after all...

I was able to find this author's site without remember his name, or the name of any of his books.

Gonna have to read his work on the Napoleonic period again, since I've been thinking about Napoleonic rules recently...

My life in 2030 -- Version 2.0:

...Dora shivered and drew her arms across her chest, hugging herself briefly, before picking one of the logs back up and placing it gingerly on the fire. Next, she checked the distilling apparatus, making sure that a steady drip of clear water was flowing into the collecting tupperware. This was obviously an important batch for it to be dispensed directly into the plastic dish.

Thinking of how dear the dish briefly filled Dora's mind with cloudy images of her childhood... when such dishes were toys to be strewn around the kitchen. She shivered again, and took a step away from the tupperware, and closer to the fire. At least the winter weather meant that she could be here in the lab with her father instead of out in the fields. Bad weather was the only time they made any progress at all.

Father was at the far end of the room conversing with Mister Goss over the sand table. Looking over she could hear they were speaking but couldn't make out the specifics. She saw her father use a pointer and make several sharp marks at the table. Mister Goss looked considerate for a moment, and then spoke, prompting her father to thrust the pointer into the table and throw up his hands. A wry smirk crossed Dora's face.

Just then, the entrance door flew open and all four and a half feet of Lowe burst in. "Dad, dad! A message, a message! They want you at the watchtower! You too mister Goss!" It couldn't be said that her brother had taken to his new duties as one of the town message boys with anything other than a consuming zeal....

This story is one reason to stop the droning hysteria... of course, for those pushing Luddite Utopianism it might be a reason to keep on keeping on.

Chez Perez, the funniest place to eat in a long time.

My life in 2030 -- Version 1.0:

...The drive after we got on I-40 was a silent one. Thomas was understandably silent and presumably pensive, staring out the window. Lucie and Nora were uncharacteristically silent as well, and neither even had a book in hand, making the silence all the more surprising. I believe they were both sneaking sidelong glances at Thomas as we drove. Even young Everett remained still, although he was engrossed in his eebee.

For my part, I stayed out of the express lanes... feeling the steering wheel in hand was a small comfort at least. I was of course most concerned about Miche. I glanced over, and then offered my right hand. She took it and squeezed hard.

The traffic swelled noticeably as we hit the first of the four Clinton exits. Pod semis packed the express lanes, and traffic in the transit lanes was slowing down below the speed limit. I was thankful that my wife had gotten us up early enough that a bit of traffic was not a problem. Check in for the flight wasn't scheduled to begin for another three hours.

We finally hit the Burns Flat exit, and I made a left onto highway 44 heading for the spaceport. I had been here once before, but over a decade ago, and business had certainly been good since then. All the buildings looked new, and trees were in abundance. Traffic was of course even worse than it had been on the interstate, but after merging we were making good enough time.

The civil engineering marvel of a modern spaceport spread out around us, and I followed the signs to reach "departures". "Dad, I'm reporting in," I heard from the backseat, In the hudview I saw Thomas had his multi out and was airing something in.

Swiping in 10 NUSD worth, the parking attendant waved me in, and we ended up with a spot in Lot C26. "Last stop, everybody out," I said, no doubt failing to sound particularly jocular. I popped the rear door and told Pom-Pom to get the luggage. Thomas would have to repack it all after he went through check in and briefing, but at least all he needed was in a pair of bags....

While driving around a few days ago, life once again imitated an Onion article...
I had the radio tuned to WORT, and after hearing a nice little electronic remix of the Muppet Show classic, they put on a song by Raffi, that in its reggae styling made me think of this article.

After a week of 14 hour workdays and a bad cold, I was able to head to the opera with the gf this weekend. We saw a performance of The Pearl Fishers by Bizet at the Overture. This time I was able to wrangle orchestra level seats, and we had a nice view of the performance.

Unfortunately, I have to agree with the contemporary critics... the libretto was really lame. Thankfully, the music was enjoyable, and despite not having any themes that I immediately recognized (unlike perhaps the Barber of Seville or Carmen would) I enjoyed the whole performance. The set and lighting work was very well done, with incredible depth imparted to the stage through the use of Hindu statuary.

Perhaps most interesting about the performance was the demographics of the audience... or at least the orchestra section. Last fall when we went to the opera, we were sitting in the theater equivalent of "steerage", and there were a fair number of younger folk there. On the orchestra level though -- we were practically the only attendees not part of the AARP crowd.

Now we just have to make sure to go to opera in the park this summer... and perhaps Ravinia as well.