You need anything dampened, or made soggy?

From BoingBoing: "Moist, and other words people dislike."


An excerpt from Ben Zimmer's essay at Visual Thesaurus proclaims:

"Many people feel quite strongly about moist — there's even a Facebook group called called "I HATE the word MOIST!" with more than 300 members."
I think I know a member (or if not, a soon-to-be one).

I personally don't have a problem with the word and do, in fact, taunt my friend with it from time to time. Because I'm a little bit evil like that. One of my favorite characters in Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is Moist, played by Simon Helberg. Too bad there's not a song about him.

I'm not sure how one goes about describing the perfect cupcake if they can't use the word "moist." Mushy? Soft and fluffy? (okay, maybe). Cloud-like?

I should stop now. I've probably just lost one of my three loyal readers who is, or was, a very good friend. I need to go water my vegetables anyway. Got keep that soil nice and moist! See? I can't quit and may get punched.

What word do you hate? I can't promise not to torture you with it.



Your Sunday afternoon dose of adorable!

Pepper and Pickle
The Insane Piggie Posse

The guinea pigs are doing quite well. They continue to grow and thrive. Pepper, in particular, has become quite demanding and wheeks* loudly when one of us enters the room. This means she wants something, either greens or fresh hay. Pickle does it too, but rarely at the bossy volume Pepper does. The thing is, they often get something, so she has us trained. I do ignore some to teach her it doesn't always pay off!

*Not my pig, but an example of the sound. Mine are freaked out by the camera and freeze in silence. I need to try to sneak some video!


See chameleon lying there in the sun...

I've waited almost a week to publish this so I don't get melodramatic when describing an event that could have possible had a tragic and life-changing ending. I want to preface the story by stating that I am extremely thankful for and relieved by the end result. That said, I started last Wednesday by feeling like my heart might stop.

I was off to a good start that morning. As anyone who knows me is aware, I tend to run late most of the time. I was in sync with the clock though and got out the door at the exact right time. Depending on how things are going, I go one of two ways to exit my neighborhood. I briefly thought of turning my car around to go out the easier way. Thinking it would be okay since I was leaving right at 7am, I just went straight. I headed up the street, past the four houses between mine and an intersection. I looked further down the street, gasped, and slammed on my brakes so hard my car skidded.

Across the intersection, I saw Rusty, one of my dogs (which any reader probably knows already), trotting along side a woman and the yellow Lab she was walking. He had the biggest smile on his face and was obviously having a grand old time. WHAT THE...??? I jumped out of the car, screaming, and running toward him. He looked, but didn't come to me, which was probably okay considering he'd be going over a cross street. I ran up to him like a raving lunatic shouting, "What the hell???" I'm sure the lady thought I was insane. My heart is palpitating a little as I recount this.

I scooped him up and plopped him onto the passenger side floor and drove back to the house. I was reprimanding him, as if that was helping at all. He was clearly having a blast and had also rolled in something as his entire body was wet. I got him into the house and immediately checked that Cosette and Little Guy were still there. I then had to figure out how in the world this frakkin' happened. None of my dogs has ever gotten out.

My first thought was that I hadn't latched and locked the one side gate after bringing in the garbage cans the night before. Nope. Latched and locked. I went into the back yard and briefly had an absurd thought that somehow Rusty had climbed up our huge carob tree, which has a branch near the top of our 6-foot wall. Um, yeah, right. I was really shaken and clearly not thinking straight. I made my way over to the other side of the house, where our cinder block wall does not travel the full distance to the gate in the front, so there is a gate in the back. Well, lo and behold, the wooden gate had split down the middle and half was on the ground, opening a passage from the normally confined back yard. The gate was fairly rickety, but had been latched and secure last we checked.

Since Rusty was safe and I was now running late to work, I closed the back door and awoke E and barked out the story. He later repositioned the gate and blocked it so it's impossible to fall again before we repair it.

My mind raced on the drive, imagining the horrific possibilities from Rusty being run down by one of the huge SUVs that tend to speed down our street to him being kidnapped. He loves people, is a size that can be picked up, and would easily adjust to a new family. Although we live on a relatively quiet street, aside from the occasional speeders, we are a block away from an extremely busy, highly trafficked thoroughfare.

In retrospect, I kind of think the woman may have been herding Rusty toward home. He has tags with our address and I've never seen this woman in the neighborhood. I pretty much recognize all of the dogs taking a stroll, especially in the early morning. I feel like an ass because I didn't even talk to her, partially due to my car still being parked and running in the middle of the street and well, also due to general freak out.

Rusty is a good boy and was so frazzled by my overreaction. E said he acted out of sorts all day. When I got home, I picked him up and he "hugged" me, making these little noises as if to say, "I'm sorry, don't be mad at me." If you've made it this far, I commend you. Personally, I hate long blog entries and would have stopped reading by now.


This Is Who She Is

I give you (well, you Battlestar Galactica fans anyway) a short, shaky video of Kate Vernon on her character Ellen Tigh. There is a very tiny *SPOILER* if you for some reason still haven't caught up to the end of the series yet. (Really? Come on already! Others won't be so nice). This was in response to a question posed to the cast about their best memories on the set.

Kate Vernon at the BSG Props and Costumes Auction
Pasadena, CA 05/07/09
(with Grace Park and Michael Trucco)


Wanted: 1 Nap

This past Friday, I posted a list over at L.A. Metblogs of free, or inexpensive, fun activities happening this weekend in Los Angeles. I knew other events were happening, some of which were mentioned in the comments, but I specifically noted things E and I were interested in doing. Also, I didn't include anything that cost over $5.

Surprisingly, between the two of us, we hit each gathering even if only for a short time. I enjoyed Classic Eats #5 with fellow Metblogs authors and readers, while E went to the Santa Fe Art Colony Open Studios and the tail-end of BarCamp. (Oh, and I picked up what dregs were left over on Free Comic Book Day on the way to Classic Eats).

Today, I headed downtown for Unique L.A. I pretty much hung out with JustJenn and didn't see much of the enormous, somewhat difficult to navigate show. For one thing, I hadn't seen Jenn in a while and wanted to catch up. Also, I didn't want to spend any money and I have some kind of very painful foot injury and couldn't really walk around. It was all good fun until I was unable to locate my car in the underground garage. It took me 20 minutes to find it. I wish I was joking. All the while, E was learning about Circuit Bending at Machine Project.

I then swung over to Echo Park, picked up E and we geeked out in Pasadena at the JPL Open House. After gawking at Mars Rover replicas, we both went to the art colony and hung out with friends who were displaying 3D goodness in front of one our buddy's space. Then I dropped E back at Machine for another lecture and came home to do laundry, etc.

All in all, a great weekend. The panic of Sunday night has set in though as I look at all of the things I didn't get done. I guess they'll be here tomorrow.


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