whatever.

    I'm on a subcommittee (read: torture group) that is creating a policy manual for work. It is a big, important deal, but it is so far beyond organized that even if anyone wanted to accomplish the goal, it might not be possible. And most of the people on the subcommittee are too entrenched in politics to compromise. However, we've started breaking off tasks in smaller chunks and giving them to individuals, so at least those chunks are coherent. One of my chunks is the glossary (praise be), and another is a sort of WTF explanation of MARC fields. Hilarious in its own way because, like, am I a friggin expert? But at least I know I'm not, so I'm willing to ask! Anyway, there are probably 3 people reading this who will have a clue about what the rest of this paragraph means, so if you aren't, basically, an expert in this field, feel free to go on to the next paragraph. For the rest of you: I was writing my explanation of the leader. Homer Simpson's voice was going through my head, from the episode called

The Joy of Sect, where Springfield is overrun by a cult (the Movementarians) and everyone pretty much loses it, and in the end they're all wearing sack cloth and eating gruel and saying the mantra. By the time I was through trying to explain the leader to people who probably don't have a fuckin' clue, I was saying it, too, however ironically: "I love the leader!" I guess you might've had to be there.
    I got my passport! It arrived very early. Now, where are we going? And who's paying? (The background is my new funky corduroy pants with the seams up the middle of each leg.)
    So. My life has been subsumed by a 2.5" x 4" x .5" black blob called iPod, and I don't think I mind. Some far-too-generous friends got it for my birthday. I absolutely love it already, and I've barely scratched the surface of exploring what it can do. There are 600 songs, 934 photos, and 2 podcasts loaded so far. I'm using roughly .1% of the storage capacity. BWA ha ha ha ha....

    (It is pictured with a background of my obnoxious VS flannel PJs. If you can, note the picture on the iPod screen - that's Hunky Mason! hee hee)

    When we were at The Water Area, my good friend D convinced me to partake of the local "Native" tradition involving ankle bracelets. Apparently, it's like The Secret; if you have a wish and you tie the anklet on, and you do what you can to make clear to the universe that you have the wish (e.g. by displaying the properly-colored beads on the anklet), then around the time that the anklet weakens, frays, and falls off, your wish will be manifest.

    Well, I'm all for that. And I'm superstitious as they come. Therefore, when we stopped at the (ohGodIcanhardlybelievewewentin) Indian Trading Post on our way out of town, I picked up not one but three ankle bracelets of a particular color. I tied them on, each with a different knot. (Just call me Grrr L. Scout!) And...waited. And waited. (And waited.) (And waited....)

I'll keep you posted.