Dreams, Dishwashers

Last night, I dreamed that Omaha and I went shopping for dress shirts only to discover that this year's style was petroleum-based shirts, and we're not talking polyester. The shirts were thin things made of an "indestructible" but rubbery-feeling material, colored in bright, elemental red and yellow and covered in patterns of raised, textured stuff that was highlighted with white paint. It looked as if someone had tried to make children's bath mats and haz-mat material into couture.

This morning, when I awoke, I went through my entire morning routine. Normally, I miss something-- don't wash my hair, or don't shave, or forget to put conditioner in my hair. Something like that. Nothing unhygenic, just a little sloven. Today, I got everything. I even freakin' remembered to moisturize, and I used the new stuff, with an SPF15 value. Yeah, like I need that in Seattle. (Actually, it seems that I will need that in Seattle today... it's sunny today. WTF?)

Okay, I think last night's Queer Eye got to me more than I care to admit.

The dishwasher works again. It was down for 36 hours while the repair people replaced the motor. For once, it died before the warranty ran out, and by only a few weeks, but it was enough. Omaha likes to run the dishwasher at three in the morning: power rates are cheaper and the dishes are ready by breakfast, and there are nice features on the dishwasher to let that happen. But our once whisper-quiet dishwasher had become a banshee screaming at 60dB, and I could not sleep at all while it was going.

Kouryou-chan seems to be recovering her hunger. For a while, her belly bothered her every time she ate. We tried to figure out what it was, limiting her milk intake, her sugar intake, her fat intake, even wheat-- nothing seemed to make a difference. Whatever it was, it seems to have faded-- she ate all of her dinner last night and then demanded dessert, and she was claiming to be still hungry even as her bedtime approached! She has some catching up to do, I guess.

Omaha, in contrast, seems a little grumpier and greyer than usual. She's quite sure she's coming down with a cold, though; I hope she gets over it soon. We've been so busy with everything that all I want this weekend was a little downtime with my wife and family, and I'd love to be able to care for her and pamper her... if only she'd let me, dammit.

Band Thing Meme!

A very silly meme. Describe yourself using only titles from your favorite band. Of course, I chose Rush.

Are you female or male

"Working Man"

How do some people feel about you

"La Villa Strangiato"

How do you feel about yourself

"Grand Designs"

Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend

"Never Turn Your Back On A Monster"

Describe your current/future girlfriend/boyfriend

"Time Stands Still"

Describe where you want to be

"Closer To The Heart"

Describe what you want to be

"New World Man"

Describe how you live

"Heresy"

Describe how you love

"Show Don't Tell"

Share a few words of wisdom

"Roll The Bones"

Some people read too little science fiction. Or too much.

Omaha called me at work, crying, trying to hold her guts together as food poisoning, probably from a nasty chicken salad sandwich she bought at lunch, rumbled about inside her on caterpillar treads. I headed home on the bus, but by great coincidence ran into shaterri in downtown and he gave me a ride home. I'm so grateful he did, because Omaha sounds awful right now. She can't keep anything down-- I'm worried about getting her epilepsy medicine into her-- she's buried in multiple layers of blankets and extra-warm socks, and I'm waiting for the community nurse to call us back. I'm cooking dinner for Kouryou-chan and I while we wait for the call.

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Mothers Against Genetic Engineering (MAdGE, what's wrong with "MAGE?") has created a huge stir in New Zeland with their new billboard, which has finally gone up. The poster, which features a naked woman with four breasts (definitely not work safe), asks the question "Why not just genetically engineer women for milk?" I'm sure they thought they were making a point about genetically engineered cows, but it doesn't resonate.

The SF pervert within looks at that picture and thinks someone's been reading few little too 70's underground comics. I also have to wonder what the designer of the ad campaign has been thinking; my first reaction upon seeing that is "Hey, a babe with four breasts! Cool!" and then I want to write my own fiction about it. If we ever come up with the capacity to genegineer ourselves and women appear on the streets with quadraboob action, it won't be for milk.

Unless she's being paid to make, y'know, that kind of movie.

Speaking of which (charlesks, oh Charles!), check out Callgirl of Cthulhu! (again, probably not very worksafe).

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Well, the nurse called back. I'm now plying Omaha with pedialyte as her major concern now is dehydration. She seems to be holding down the few sips I gave her, but the mere smell of cooking dinner drove her back into the bathroom before that. I hope she's okay. The nurse thinks it might be a double-whammy; she got food poisoning this afternoon and might have caught the flu more or less at the same time.

We'll see tomorrow.