august 7, 2002.

"tonight I'm in the hands of fate..."

I've been purging today. Not the bad purging, the good purging: I'm going through books and clothes to lighten our moving load next week. A diabetes group is picking up the clothes tomorrow and the books will be registered and released over the next few days. When I called Dirk to ask if he wanted his Heinleins back (I keep picking them up at his house and taking them home with me, although I'm not all that fond of Heinlein), I hit a snag. He wants to read half the books I was going to release, so now I'm committed to bring them back. Feck.

Just in case you're interested, the purged items include Pilgrim by Timothy Findley (unpleasant characters abound!), Zen and the Art etc. (I owe some karma on this one, as I picked it up in a classroom last year and brought it home), Fool on the Hill (I love this book!!), Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates (I'm trying to purge the guilt I've felt about enjoying this book ever since Stacy pointed out the creepy Lolita worship theme), and everyone's favourite style guide, Strunk & White's Elements of Style (I've never read it; I certainly don't need two copies). Purged clothes include several shirts that are too small for me, one of our 2002 StanFest volunteer shirts (we each have two now), and a dress that I never wear anymore. I very nearly got rid of Scherezade's maroon shirt, but I quickly realized that I love it and can't give it away. Besides, she may want it back someday.

My webpage successor came over today. She is very, very inexperienced with webpages, so much so that I admire her courage in even stepping forward. I quickly realized that she's not ready for my information about Dreamweaver and Adobe Photoshop; instead I just showed her how to work the blog and suggested that she get comfortable with the interfaces at her own speed. I get the feeling that there are people with more design experience in the congregation who don't want the responsibility of the site - maybe we can encourage them to take on short projects of limited duration, like an Easter picture page.

I'm really hoping that it all doesn't turn to shit when I leave. Every once in awhile I forget just how much work went into the site and how much I expect others to take up in my place.

Tonight I spoke to St. Stephen for the first time since the party at the House Where Nobody Lives.

st.: Those girls are mostly bitches.

me: Yeah, but I am too.

st.: You're an entertaining bitch, though.

me: Well, I may be a bitch, but I'm more romantically successful than you.

st.: You're married! Stop rubbing it in.

me: Yeah. You're jealous because I got the Boy.

st.: You'll never love him like I do.

me: I think I have a biological advantage in that department.

pause

me: I can't believe you called me a bitch.

st.: You asked for it!

me: That's it! You're carrying the heaviest piece of furniture! I don't care if you're coming after work to help us move - we're going to save the desk for you.