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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04

2001-05-08 ... 12:06 p.m.

Let's hear it for free Internet access from my hotel in Washington, DC, where I am for a science editor's conference. Rug, are you here? Wouldn't that be wild?

The guest services booklet claims it's free, but there's a sign next to me in this kiosk (god I love the word "kiosk") that claims it's $0.35 a minute. But no one's asked me for a credit card or room number or anything like that. So there!

The good news on the wrist front is that I no longer have to wear that stupid brace and light and air and all sorts of other interesting sensations can reach my hand. However, I have a lovely large scar across the back of my wrist. I have a Frankenwrist. It looks like a clumsy attempt at reattachment. In fact, that shall be my story when people ask me what happened. I shall say, "Well, I tried to cut off my hand. You know, because it was evil?" and take it from there. That would be better than people thinking that I'm some kind of super-retarded suicide, who not only cut across instead of up and down but also used the wrong side of my hand.

So anyway. I should go to the airport now. Maybe I'll update tomorrow with more news of the science editor's conference, not that it's all that exciting. I went to Washington, DC, I attended panels on bacterial nomenclature (I told you it was exciting), I had dinner and drinks with H, who is one of my very favorite people in the world, and I read the following Hasidic tale, which I feel like typing now:

There was once a man who was very stupid. When he got up in the morning, it was so hard for him to find his clothes that at night he almost hesitated to go to bed for thinking of the trouble he would have on waking. One evening he took paper and pencil and with great effort, as he undressed, noted down exactly where he put everything he had on. The next morning, well-pleased with himself, he took the slip of paper in his hand and read "cap"----there it was, he set it on his head; "pants"---there they lay, he got into them; and so it went until he was fully dressed. But now he was overcome with anxiety, and he said to himself: "This is all very well, I have found my clothes and I am dressed, but where am I myself? Where in the world am I?"

I'm in the nation's capital. But not for long.

---mimi smartypants


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