Monday things

I ran into what may be the first honest office manager I've dealt with in years, calling an electrician this morning. "I'm sorry," she said, "we make a policy of not returning phone calls. They should all be back around 5:30; you can try again then, if you like." A policy of not returning phone calls??? timprov points out that the other electricians we've dealt with seem to have a similar policy, just not one they're willing to state to prospective customers. Still and all, it was a little startling: a policy of not returning phone calls. It makes one wonder why they'd bothered to have her answer the phone at all. (On the other hand, maybe she was expecting a call from her mother.)

If you're looking for cuteness, there are new pictures of my niece. Including some in a hat. I swear, putting a hat on your baby increases the risk that I will grab it and run away by, like, 400%. It's good to know the odds on these things. (Even though I have never actually grabbed a baby and run away. Well. Not very far away.) I should still post the old pictures of my niece. It's just a bit far down my priority list, I'm afraid -- behind getting a painter to come out and do the house early this fall, behind scheduling a preliminary appointment to look at the right side wisdom teeth the idiot dentist last year didn't remove, behind going to the pharmacy for timprov's meds, behind finishing "Flight of the Paleontologist." Which I am afraid is never going to be the best story I've ever written, not even temporarily until I finish my next story. But today it will be done, and sometimes that's what matters: getting it out of my head so I can do something better, or at least something different.

I feel like making ominous noises about the something different, actually.

World Fantasy Poll

[Poll #795030]

Please note that, as always, this is not a democracy. I am curious, not using this poll as a definitive life-decision-maker.

Basket! Of! Cheeeeeese!

Pazzaluna made me a basket of good Parmesan cheese in which they served my risotto. So, to recap: wine. Garlic. Saffron. Rice. Asparagus. Wee tomatoes. Chicken. And basket! of! cheeeeeese!

This made me just irrationally happy. I mean, when you get as far as "rice," my brain immediately wants to go "paprika tomatoes broth!" and start making Spanish rice. And my Spanish rice (edited to add: acquired from timprov) is so good that apparently my mom has spent not-insignificant amounts of time making my grandma jealous that Mom is in closer proximity to the potential for having my Spanish rice. It really is just that good. But then basket of, oh, that's generally promising. mkille, onehipmama, remember the basket of Malaysian food I got, the noodle thing? Like that. But with cheese.

I think I'm extremely lucky that I'm the kind of person who can be made irrationally happy by baskets of cheese. Because lots of people are stuck with the kind of brain chemistry that gets them miserable for very little reason, but give me a swingy little skirt and a good book to read and a basket of cheese, and I am more or less set.

Also it turns out that seven years of marriage is long enough to not get carded when buying wine any more. Maybe. We'll see if it's consistent from here.