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elfsDeath and Destruction!
After a couple of months where for one reason or another neither of us had a head-to-head first person shooter installed on our desktops, I finally got Quake 4 back up and running last night. There was one final goof-- my headphone jack was still down at Tina's campaign office. I found a pair of old headphones with a very long cable but missing a foam cover (for some reason, those items have entered my vocabulary as a 'pid'; does anyone have any idea where that came from?), so I ripped one off another pair of headphones with a much shorter cable and got them to work.
We tried a space-based arena first, but kept falling off the edge, doing so badly that we were both in the negatives when we decided to go with a more traditional closed space. That was more fun. The first battles, though, gave Omaha the warm-up she needed and she blew my ass away all over the battlefield. She's just nasty with that rail gun.
The girls find a new way to torture daddy.
The girls were pretty good last night. Kouryou-chan had dance class and did pretty well. Yamaraashi-chan is, unfortunately, developing into a "sit in front of the computer IMing friends all day" girl, and she's a bit young for that, so I'm being more strict about how much screen time she gets per day.
My colorblindedness also makes me susceptible to severe headaches when exposed to certain wavelengths of light, mostly high monochrome blues. It's one of the reasons I'm nearly allergic to neon. Yamaraashi-chan, when not on the computer, was running around the house with her sister, playing with a blue toy sonic screwdriver a'la Doctor Who, and it has bright blue monochrome LED flashlight at one end that's exactly the wrong wavelength. We've warned her not to swing it around the house.
Omaha made a pretty damn good dinner of chicken and veggies with cous-cous on the side. Naturally, Kouryou-chan didn't eat it. What does she live off? Air?
My veteranarian is twonky
I'm getting a little suspect of my veterinarian's in-house pharmacy. Every three weeks I get the same prescription: two liters of lactated ringers, one line, twenty-four needles. There's almost always something wrong with the order. This time I modified the order slightly: no needles. The twenty-four is for twenty needles plus the possibility of two bad sticks or accidental contaminations per liter, so over time I've built up a reserve.
You know what I got this time? Two bottles (good; still sealed with the prescription sticker on the outside, better), two lines (wtf?), and a box of 50 needles (wtf wtf?).
Sometimes they unseal the bottles and put the prescription sticker over the volumetric labeling. Sometimes they put an extension line in with the main line. Sometimes they prep the line, sometimes they don't (I don't really care either way; I can do that myself). They've filled this order for Dinah every three weeks for a year now, you'd think they'd have some consistency.
Poor Dinah. She's found a food brand she really loves, and now she gives me this look at night when I give her her meds: "Do I really have to eat these?" She's doing okay, but her arthritis is getting much worse; she's avoiding climbing up on her favorite chairs the way she used to.
After a couple of months where for one reason or another neither of us had a head-to-head first person shooter installed on our desktops, I finally got Quake 4 back up and running last night. There was one final goof-- my headphone jack was still down at Tina's campaign office. I found a pair of old headphones with a very long cable but missing a foam cover (for some reason, those items have entered my vocabulary as a 'pid'; does anyone have any idea where that came from?), so I ripped one off another pair of headphones with a much shorter cable and got them to work.
We tried a space-based arena first, but kept falling off the edge, doing so badly that we were both in the negatives when we decided to go with a more traditional closed space. That was more fun. The first battles, though, gave Omaha the warm-up she needed and she blew my ass away all over the battlefield. She's just nasty with that rail gun.
The girls find a new way to torture daddy.
The girls were pretty good last night. Kouryou-chan had dance class and did pretty well. Yamaraashi-chan is, unfortunately, developing into a "sit in front of the computer IMing friends all day" girl, and she's a bit young for that, so I'm being more strict about how much screen time she gets per day.
My colorblindedness also makes me susceptible to severe headaches when exposed to certain wavelengths of light, mostly high monochrome blues. It's one of the reasons I'm nearly allergic to neon. Yamaraashi-chan, when not on the computer, was running around the house with her sister, playing with a blue toy sonic screwdriver a'la Doctor Who, and it has bright blue monochrome LED flashlight at one end that's exactly the wrong wavelength. We've warned her not to swing it around the house.
Omaha made a pretty damn good dinner of chicken and veggies with cous-cous on the side. Naturally, Kouryou-chan didn't eat it. What does she live off? Air?
My veteranarian is twonky
I'm getting a little suspect of my veterinarian's in-house pharmacy. Every three weeks I get the same prescription: two liters of lactated ringers, one line, twenty-four needles. There's almost always something wrong with the order. This time I modified the order slightly: no needles. The twenty-four is for twenty needles plus the possibility of two bad sticks or accidental contaminations per liter, so over time I've built up a reserve.
You know what I got this time? Two bottles (good; still sealed with the prescription sticker on the outside, better), two lines (wtf?), and a box of 50 needles (wtf wtf?).
Sometimes they unseal the bottles and put the prescription sticker over the volumetric labeling. Sometimes they put an extension line in with the main line. Sometimes they prep the line, sometimes they don't (I don't really care either way; I can do that myself). They've filled this order for Dinah every three weeks for a year now, you'd think they'd have some consistency.
Poor Dinah. She's found a food brand she really loves, and now she gives me this look at night when I give her her meds: "Do I really have to eat these?" She's doing okay, but her arthritis is getting much worse; she's avoiding climbing up on her favorite chairs the way she used to.
