Not much going on. Tank and her dog spent last weekend out at rustic
Guemes Island, while I minded the monkey. I expected she would have a good time, but I was surprised to hear not a single complaint of RA pain, despite having hiked and gone sea kayaked every day. She claims it's the clean air, but expect that's only one reasons, perhaps not even a major one. I felt guilty -- still do -- that she had to return to the city life she dreads more with each passing day. Workin' on remedying that...
The new member on my team at work is moving to Bainbridge in a month, in his case mainly because Seattle School District were being such utter fuckwits about enrollment for his kid in the fall. Very interested in gleaning insights into island life from someone who actually commutes into my office and self-describes his family as "not island people". Meanwhile, I'm slated to check out the city of Snohomish tomorrow, though I'm not optimistic based on what I saw in nearby Monroe. There's also a nice little farm outside of North Bend, but it backs up to both I-90 and the south fork of the Snoqualmie River, either of which may offer a clue as to why its price has been slashed 40% since it was last purchased four years ago.
"I just re-read 1602, for proofreading purposes, this afternoon, in a small boat, drifting across a lake on a sunny day, and I found, to my relief, it as very much the kind of comic I had wanted to write: something for summer, to be read under a porch or in a treehouse; or up on a roof; or in a small field, a long time ago, beside the bulrush patch."
--Neil Gaiman, afterword to 1602
While Tank was gone, I stayed up way too late every night reading
Marvel 1602. It was an okay read, but the art style, though well-suited to the swashbuckling time period, is not one for which I feel any great enthusiasm. Aside from being a typical Elseworlds story, the only points of note were: 1) Gaiman provided the writing after a five-year absence from comics; 2) a one-panel caricature of Bush and Rumsfeld discussing torture; and 3) at one point the fourth wall is broken and then promptly and inexplicably forgotten. Enh. I had more fun with
M.O.D.O.K.'s 11, a super-villain team-up that is only vaguely evocative of
Ocean's 11, with the main thread being a motley crew executing a heist and a subplot involving the group leader's former romantic interest. Hilarious though! And the art was much more to my liking, complemented by beautiful painted covers on the individual issues.
Having survived a weekend of single-parenting with aplomb, upon Tank's return I quickly fell into a torpor that has persisted for the entire week, squelching any intentions to go out and enjoy the glorious sunshine. Bother! Not really sure what's wrong, except that I may have come down with a bug, likely the same one that has kept Mini sniffling and/or coughing since last week. I really need it to go away in time for this weekend, dammit.
Not that I have any major plans, other than to participate in the
massive zombie event in Fremont on Friday. My original plan had been for the whole family to join in, which would have been a hoot, but it's going to run way too long and late for either of the girls to handle. I had been lamenting to people this week that the event wasn't scheduled for the evening of the Fourth, because that would be frickin' cool to have the blanched masses illuminated by fire raining down from the sky. But then, as teenage delinquents were out tonight setting off firecrackers near my house, it occurred to me that zombies wielding explosive devices is actually a Very Bad Idea. Or comedy gold. Really, it could go either way.
Any other would-be walking-dead out there got yer ears on? Hell, is anyone still alive? No? Carry on as you were then.
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