inbetween

I remember when condoms were a new and mysterious thing to me. Granted, that was fifteen years ago (and now I feel old, just for thinking about that). Ah well, times change, I grew up.

I've spent the last two days trying to order four thousand condoms. It just isn't as easy as it seems. canadiancondom.com. Maybe they'll be helpful.

• Condoms: They're here!
• Vancouver Pride: Lots more fun than I thought it would be.
• University: I could be done by April, but it means that I'd need to
• Gay Activism: quit.
• Family: I don't know what I'm going to do. Living here is getting more and more difficult. So is moving out.
• Website: Sorta took a vacation from the blogging, but I've been thinking about
• MovableType Plugins: I've got one that is ready (page counter) and one that's nearly ready (author profile).

Bored with the mundane daily routine, and looking for something more exciting, I've taken up making wine at home. Sure, it's a slow process, but the excitement is already brewing.

So to speak...

I've got a book, and an equipment kit, and lots of patience. I think I've done just about every conceivable thing wrong with this first batch of plum wine (fruit from the trees in my back yard of course). Ah well... the wee little yeasty beasties are gurgling and burbling and bubbling away next to the deep freeze.

"Grow my little minions, grow!"

It seems to be pretty easy: obtain fruit, squish, add very sugary water, add yeast, wait. "Rack" the wine into a "carboy" (wine makers seem very pretentious about what they call their activities & equipment), rack again, and then again, and once more. Bottle and wait again.

Lots of waiting, not really doing anything. Seems like a good pastime for someone who's grown bored of the day to day routine.

Maybe I should've gotten a job instead.

RE: A New Adventure

On a careful second reading of the book (do people actually read these things twice? I've never read a book twice) I've come to realize that yes, I have done every single step wrong in some way or another.

I'm hoping that all the mistakes cancel each other out.

That'll work, right? Right?

I'm getting a little concerned about this whole process. I don't want to have to wait six to eight months to find out if I've really cocked things up or just made a big debacle of the entire episode.

And lo, sayeth I, that the nineth and final year of University shall soon comenceth:

• History of Mathematics, a fourth year math course: one midterm, one paper
• Numerical Linear Algebra: Fun! (but I'm a big nerd)
• Listening to Music: Right. Easy, just add water.
• Chorus: Hmm... I wonder if I remember how to sing.
• Intermediate Calculus: I'll be a "scraping-by" kinda class.
• Introduction to Western Architecture: Pretty Pictures
• Combinatorics: Hard
• Algorithms: Hard, but with a bad prof
• Complex Variables: Also hard.

I think I might just be able to pull this off. Exciting, eh?

Turns out that wine isn't nearly as forgiving as everybody said it would be.

"Oh look, you screwed up each and every step! Ha Ha, I'm going to turn into vinegar over night."

At least the drain will be very clean now, and I can start again. Oh yes. I WILL START OVER AND MAKE THE BEST WINE EVER!!!!!!1

Well... The plum vinegar turned the drain a lovely shade of pink. The next day, a wine making "kit" was bought, drained, poked, prodded, and turned into something that will one day be wine.

I want to call this one Bob, but Ben doesn't seem to like that idea.

I had planned on a nice, fun suprise for the authors tonight. That just didn't happen though, due to some rather odd computer problems. Athena will be seeing the specialists tomorrow. I hope I keep my cool and don't throw anything. In the mean time, there's always bird and moon - rosemary mosco - the complete story

It's been a dull, nappy kinda day. I don't have a surprise for y'all yet, so here's a fun link instead.
The Filthy Critic

And for those who love thoughtlessness:
I like rain, ducks like rain, ergo, I am a duck!

Well... This surprise is turning out to be a little more difficult than I thought it would be. I'm not really sure how much longer it's going to take.

Basically, I've got two solutions to a fundamental problem with the surprise, but they both create other problems that I can't solve just yet. I'll need to do some more reading, coding, and other fun stuff. Yes, Virginia, I do find this stuff fun. Go figure.

In the mean time, here's a BEDTIME-STORY CLASSIC: Alice's Adventures under Ground, which is described on the site as:

Bedtime-Story Classic: Alice In Wonderland - What you'll find below is a complete graphic image collection of an antique book. The title is Alice's Adventures Under Ground. It was the Rev. Charles Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll's) precursor to Alice In Wonderland. Each of the images is clickable to better view original pictures or expand to page-readable size.

I think that anyone who likes Lewis Carrol or old books will love this one.

Re: inbetween: Batch #2 -- Here We Go

The must (it ain't wine yet) is bubbling away. Lots of bubbles. Gobs of bubbles. Seems to be very busy. I'm all a-twitter with anticipation, but can't really do anything with it till next week. What's a wine making boy to do while the wine does it's own thing?

Suggestions?

The ABCs of Making Wine - How is it done?

Every once in a while, you stumble across something fun and interesting on the internet. Today, out of boredom, I was reading craigslist.org. It is a classifieds kind of site. my ex-husbands life for a few good plants really caught my attention.

Re: wildcat: Your denial is our fuel!

You should name the log before you eat it. It should be something interesting and witty. Being neither interesting, nor witty, I'm going to suggest Log.

Then you should go "logging" -- take Log around town and eat it in different places, in different poses, with different people. And of course, you must photograph Log.

Then give the photos back to the fun (and funny!) people at DQ and ask them for a replacement log, because all these bastardly people ate your new friend, Log.

I just don't know how you'd manage to pronounce log and Log. One has a capital letter. How do you pronounce a capital letter?

It seems that, with the warmer temperatures of the summer, yeast does it yeastie-beastie thing a little faster. Batch #2 (a fabu Pinot Noir alá Chateau Homo) is ahead of schedule by a three or four days.

The specific gravity (which some books tell me is a measure of sugar content) started off correctly at 1.090. On Thursday, it was down to 1.020 which means that the yeastie-beasties were doing there job rather well, four days early. Today (day seven) it measured at about 1.000, meaning that all the sugar was gone. It isn't supposed to be there for a few more weeks!

I racked it into the carbouy and didn't make a mess. I think there must be some sugar left, cause there's still a lot of bubbles. It looks like soda pop.

I think perhaps this batch should be called "Pinot Noir Race Car."

Two days ago, I found myself wandering by the mall where I saw my father for the last time. We sat in the food court at the mall, and talked.

We sat there, looking at each other and talking, for the second time in more or less ten years. People can change in ten years, I think we both did.

He lost his job just after he left. I found out after he died that he was allowed to keep his job because his boss had a soft spot for people with families. He had no savings, and couldn't pay his bills. He ended up sleeping in a van down by the mall.

Social services stepped in, and got him wellfare. He found a one room apartment. I drove by it yesterday, by accident. I never realized he lived in such a dump. At least it was a step up from living in a car.

Two and a half years ago, he was diagnosed with cancer. Social services stepped up to the plate, and gave him a pension. He was pulling in enough money to travel the country. His nieces and nephews all got to see him, and got presents. They laughed together.

The cancer got worse. The doctors told him he had a few months to live. His sister arranged the meeting at the mall. After an hour or so, I told him I had to leave. I didn't want to stay any longer. I said good-bye, didn't shake his hand or hug him. I just left.

And that was the end of it.

It's been a strange weekend, thinking about all this stuff. Ben's got some friends over. We've been out doing stuff. When we drove by the nasty-apartments where he lived, I thought to myself, "Yucky. How could he live there." And it has sort of stuck in my mind. On Friday, I wandered by the table that where we sat. I got distracted, and almost didn't notice K and D. I didn't mention anything to them. What would I have said?

Me: That's where I saw my father for the last time.
K: Oh. You should call him.
Me: I can't. He's dead.
D: I'm sorry.
Me: I'm not. I never liked him.

That just wouldn't do. We'd get into a very deep discussion, which I'd prefer to avoid having in a shopping mall food court with people I don't know that well.

• clean car & van (optional)
• sell van & car, buy car (optional too)
• buy 2x25 foot ethernet cables to
• do networking at ben's house then
• go to a party after
• get munchies for said party.
• Do laundry.
• Buy fruit for the next batch of wine, after
• racking the race-car batch, after cleaning.
• go swimming at least once (seems a small challenge to fit this one in)
• clean up the yard, put things away
• contact the lawyer.

And I must read about the Hamster-Powered Night Light