Almost lying on my back. I went to a party the Saturday before Christmas. The party was in Evergreen, and the hosts had a steep, ice-covered driveway. I got partway up it and my front wheels started slipping. I put on the emergency brake, downshifted into first, then let out the clutch while I put on the gas and released the emergency brake.
I slid backwards and into the ditch.
When we got to the door, I asked Joe if he knew a good towing company, because I’d put my car into the ditch. He thought I was joking with him, because when they moved in, their U-Haul had ended up in the same ditch. Luckily, we got a very competent tow-truck driver who pulled the car out safely and expeditiously. We commented on his competence, and he replied that they’d had about 70 calls for just this sort of thing in the prior four days.
We had a good time at the party, though. I’m glad we went, even if I’m embarrassed about what happened getting there.
I happen to meet the Programmer’s Dress Code. I do occasionally wear suspenders, though, and the only pair I saw there was in part 2. It wasn’t even worn by a programmer.
A few days ago, Slashdot noted that Brandon Sanderson has been chosen to finish the late Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. I have most, if not all of them, but I’ll freely admit that I haven’t read all of them, and I kind of lost interest around book 5 or 6. The best comment in the thread is this one:
Hansel and Gretel, outlined in the style of Robert Jordan:
Book 1: Hansel and Gretel live happily with their mother and father. Their mother falls ill and dies. The family mourns her loss. The father starts courting another woman in the village, to the dismay of Hansel and Gretel. At the end of the book, she wins over the hearts and minds of the two children and marries her father. They live happily ever after.
Book 2: Oh, wait, they don’t live happily after all. The stepmother turns out to be hateful and cruel. Ultimately, Hansel and Gretel resolve to run away from home. Gretel expresses fears about the wicked witch who is rumored to live in the Forest, but Hansel insists nothing could be worse than living at home with their stepmother. After much bickering, they depart.
Book 3: Hansel and Gretel cross the boundary between Village and Forest. Gretel reprises her misgivings about the dangers of the forest. Hansel reiterates his arguments in favor of running away. After much bickering, they agree to continue, using bread crumbs to mark their trail. They get lost. Gretel blames Hansel. Hansel stubbornly refuses to admit his mistake.
Book 4: Hansel and Gretel wander through the woods, lost and disoriented. Gretel continues to complain about the foolishness of running away from home. Hansel continues to insist it’s the right thing to do. Gretel continues to berate him about the bread crumbs fiasco. Hansel persists in his mule-headed self-righteousness. They meet a Wise Owl, who warns them about the Wicked Witch of the Forest.
Book 5: Hansel and Gretel wander through the woods, lost and disoriented. Gretel continues to complain about the foolishness of running away from home. Hansel continues to insist it’s the right thing to do. Gretel continues to berate him about the bread crumbs fiasco. Hansel persists in his mule-headed self-righteousness. They meet a Cunning Fox, who encourages them to visit the Wise Woman of the Forest.
Book 6: Hansel and Gretel wander through the woods, lost and disoriented. Gretel continues to complain about the foolishness of running away from home. Hansel continues to insist it’s the right thing to do. Gretel continues to berate him about the bread crumbs fiasco. Hansel persists in his mule-headed self-righteousness. They meet a Cryptic Raven, who warns them about the Wicked Witch of the Forest.
Book 7: Hansel and Gretel wander through the woods, lost and disoriented. Gretel continues to complain about the foolishness of running away from home. Hansel continues to insist it’s the right thing to do. Gretel continues to berate him about the bread crumbs fiasco. Hansel persists in his mule-headed self-righteousness. They meet a Devious Serpent, who encourages them to visit the Wise Woman of the Forest. … and that’s about the point where the Faithful Reader finally realizes that this hack has stretched a simple fairy tale into seven giant novels in which nothing actually happens.
Friday evening, I pulled my tuxedo out of the closet, and Marion and I went to a black-tie optional Christmas dance. It was held that early because there are enough others that will happen in the next couple weeks that the organizers didn’t want to have to compete with any of the others.
It was an enjoyable time. They didn’t play any sambas or quicksteps, but they did almost everything else, including a couple of Argentine tangos. Lots of waltzes and rhumbas. Anyway, towards the end of the evening, a couple came over, and the man said he wanted to let me know how much they had enjoyed watching Marion and me dance … it was almost enough to make him ignore how much I looked like Dennis Miller.
I haven’t figured out if it was meant to be a compliment, yet.
Actually, it’s not the first time I’ve been told I looked like someone else. Not even the first time I’ve been compared to someone famous.
Back in 1974, I was in a group that got to hang out in Naples one afternoon with the wife of the American consul. One of the places she took us was a sculptor’s workshop. I soon found myself positioned at one end of his workshop, while she and the sculptor stood a couple dozen feet away and chattered together in Italian. Every time I tried to ask what was going on, he would reposition my head and she would tell me to be quiet. Eventually, I found out that he had positioned me under a bust he had done of JFK, and he was pointing out similarities to her.
Then, in the early 1980s, I had a boss who was convinced that I looked like Dan Ayckroyd. A few years ago, the blogger formerly and sometimes still known as Zombyboy saw my driver’s license photo (from my last license, not my current one) at a Blogger Bash and said I “totally looked like Saddam Hussein!”
Maybe, one of these days, someone will tell me that I look like myself.