Imponderables

Just noticed: why on earth is Trader Joe's English Breakfast tea packaged in a tartan box? Clan Cholmondeley rides again, I guess.

Meanwhile, I'm back from having half my teeth cleaned. Ow. Possibly the most invasive and brutal teeth-cleaning of my young life. But thorough. Geez, she was thorough. And then on Monday I finally shed my last two wisdom teeth. Farewell, wisdom.

In the cat-blogging department, Spike is getting brave enough that I see her daily. I settle atop the "throne" in the garage, and she scrambles down off the top shelf to strop my calf and be petted. Plushest cat evar. Skittish, though. Eternally funny-looking, too. Spike resembles a Size Large orange tabby breaking through the seams of a Size Medium brindle tortie suit. She has four white socks with the beginnings of an orange tabby's legs just above, and a pie-slice wedge of orange tabby nose and cheek in the middle of her face, with a dark smoke question mark spiral above that, in the middle of her forehead. The rest of her is a dense, mostly-black-with-bits-of-dark-orange tortoiseshell pattern. Like I say, funny-looking.

Lefty now makes regular expeditions up to the kitchen for attention, tuna leavings, and to sit in the sunny kitchen window. Occasionally, Tinka bullies her to make sure everyone still knows who is boss cat. Tinka is surprisingly sly about this. If I'm watching, she does most of her dominating by staring Lefty down, all the while pretending to be bored. Lefty's revenge is to take forrays into the rest of the house when Tinka isn't around.

Here at work I am flirting with Death by Cow-orker, as I tune in to my all-alterna-celtadelic-Holiday station on Pandora. Sooner or later, Jan will kill me for it, I'm certain. But really, who can resist having three dozen different New Age versions of Carol of the Bells on tap? Not me.

The Definition of Cognitive Dissonance

As implied, infra, I am mad for The Carol of the Bells. Bonkers. Instrumental, a capella, whatever. Can't get enough.

Conversely, I basically think that Walmart is pretty much the epitome of corporate evil.

As the TV savvy may guess, the seasonal Walmart ads -- the ones with endless phalanxes of happy Walmart associates smiling perkily as they turn on their Register Available lights to the tune of The Carol of the Bells -- drive me bugfuck. Co-opt city. Next they'll be using cute cartoon animals to sell carcinogens. Oh, er.

LiveJournalism: News at the Speed of Gossip

It seems there was an attempted bank robbery a few blocks from my office. Local traditional media still don't seem to have the news. I only know because a guy who works next door to the bank posted a digital photo to the seattle community. The speed with which information travels on that board is wicked scary. From subsequent chatter I know about the police response, what it was like on the buses in the area, and that bus service is now moving again. People posting from the bus, mind you.

seattle is also where I learned that we were expecting snow by the weekend. In a surreal way, this feels like what online community was meant to do.