Return of the 'Analog? In that case, the robots should have been built with vacuum tubes' argument.
Sunday night. The end of the weekend... and what a weekend it's been, people.
Saturday, Dad and I took Daphne to her 9:15 vet appointment (as per usual, they didn't see us until about 10:00, so we were subjected to forty-five minutes of HGTV... how many houses/yards can one network renovate?) Daphne has had a hard time walking with her back legs, so we were concerned she'd either hurt herself or was developing diabetes. While it was thankfully neither of those things, the vet did say that it might be the beginnings of arthritis since Daphne is seven years old! Yes, you heard that right: middle age. Dad and I couldn't quite figure out where the time had gone.
We then took one of our dogs to her 11:00 appointment (HGTV was still on). She's a small, anxious thing who abhors car rides, even when Dad sits in the back with her. Her yapping made a ten minute drive feel like a perilous multi-month journey to the highest heights of Mount Doom. While at the vet, Mom called to ask if I'd take her place for her standing salon appointment (and by salon, I mean, of course, Cuts by Us). The truth is, I've been meaning to tackle my split ends, so I said sure. (Ultimately, the stylist cut off an inch and a half. I'm still mourning the loss. On the plus side, Cuts by Us is right next to Michaels. I almost wish they'd ban me from that place.)
While I was out getting my hair stolen and agonizing over different brands of double-sided tape, Dad finally hung this hand-built garden gate:
The best part of Saturday was my afternoon with the Troll. (Didn't see that coming? Then you must be new here.) We had lunch at one of my favorite places, which, as I later learned, was one of his least favorite places. My first hint was when it took him twenty minutes to find something to order. But he didn't complain about it, and I promised that he could drag me somewhere that I hated (a steakhouse, probably) in the future.
We also swung by Wal-Mart and Advanced Auto Parts, where he bought... wait for it... truck lights. He has vowed that these are the last lights he'll buy. I think he's telling the truth because the truck is running out of space. I held the flashlight while he installed them ("I take you on all the nicest dates," he deadpanned), and then we watched Pacific Rim.
Oh, PR. You're as scientifically unsound and preposterous as I remember, and yet I still enjoy you. The Troll enjoyed the CG and fights, but winced at the dialogue and science. And fine, it's true: you can see the plot points developing from a mile away, and there are... let me count them... zero character twists. But it's still a movie about robots punching monsters in the face, and that? Is pretty awesome.
Today I baked oatmeal-cream-pie cookies with our own chicken eggs. We almost have a full carton of them!
This afternoon was especially nice, considering the Troll called unexpectedly and asked me to lunch. (He finished a paper early. My surprise was only trumped by his own.) We ate at the Cracker Barrel just down my street, and then spent half an hour looking at all the knick-knacks because we're ridiculous.
Saturday, Dad and I took Daphne to her 9:15 vet appointment (as per usual, they didn't see us until about 10:00, so we were subjected to forty-five minutes of HGTV... how many houses/yards can one network renovate?) Daphne has had a hard time walking with her back legs, so we were concerned she'd either hurt herself or was developing diabetes. While it was thankfully neither of those things, the vet did say that it might be the beginnings of arthritis since Daphne is seven years old! Yes, you heard that right: middle age. Dad and I couldn't quite figure out where the time had gone.
We then took one of our dogs to her 11:00 appointment (HGTV was still on). She's a small, anxious thing who abhors car rides, even when Dad sits in the back with her. Her yapping made a ten minute drive feel like a perilous multi-month journey to the highest heights of Mount Doom. While at the vet, Mom called to ask if I'd take her place for her standing salon appointment (and by salon, I mean, of course, Cuts by Us). The truth is, I've been meaning to tackle my split ends, so I said sure. (Ultimately, the stylist cut off an inch and a half. I'm still mourning the loss. On the plus side, Cuts by Us is right next to Michaels. I almost wish they'd ban me from that place.)
While I was out getting my hair stolen and agonizing over different brands of double-sided tape, Dad finally hung this hand-built garden gate:
The best part of Saturday was my afternoon with the Troll. (Didn't see that coming? Then you must be new here.) We had lunch at one of my favorite places, which, as I later learned, was one of his least favorite places. My first hint was when it took him twenty minutes to find something to order. But he didn't complain about it, and I promised that he could drag me somewhere that I hated (a steakhouse, probably) in the future.
We also swung by Wal-Mart and Advanced Auto Parts, where he bought... wait for it... truck lights. He has vowed that these are the last lights he'll buy. I think he's telling the truth because the truck is running out of space. I held the flashlight while he installed them ("I take you on all the nicest dates," he deadpanned), and then we watched Pacific Rim.
Oh, PR. You're as scientifically unsound and preposterous as I remember, and yet I still enjoy you. The Troll enjoyed the CG and fights, but winced at the dialogue and science. And fine, it's true: you can see the plot points developing from a mile away, and there are... let me count them... zero character twists. But it's still a movie about robots punching monsters in the face, and that? Is pretty awesome.
Today I baked oatmeal-cream-pie cookies with our own chicken eggs. We almost have a full carton of them!
This afternoon was especially nice, considering the Troll called unexpectedly and asked me to lunch. (He finished a paper early. My surprise was only trumped by his own.) We ate at the Cracker Barrel just down my street, and then spent half an hour looking at all the knick-knacks because we're ridiculous.