Runabout birthdays.

Monday we rose even later, as if that were possible. Omaha had an appointment in the morning, so she was already out the door when I started making breakfast. We finally gave the girls the television they'd been promised; ugh, Yamaarashi-chan's taste won out and we let them watch some Pokemon series. I made pancakes, but different, with a cup of blue-corn polenta stirred in. The girls really enjoyed those, which in turn pleased me.

I cleaned up the kitchen, swapping around the clean and dirty dishes in the washer, then conspired to keep the kids busy with a new package of toys we had picked up from an obscure closet during the eviction. There's something nifty about knowing that my girls are playing with toys that once belonged to a young woman I admire, a newly-mined Marine.

We went out to recover Omaha and wandered over to Southcenter, where we bought a tree stake for this one decorative tree that was falling over, then I dropped all three of them off at a Goodwill (hey, a sale!) while I wandered over to Toys'r'Us to pick up Yamaarashi-chan's gifts for which she had asked for her birthday over the months. I keep a list.

When we got home, it was a sunny day (the weatherman lied again), so the girls were booted outside while I wrapped the gifts and Omaha baked a batch of chocolate cupcakes. Mmmm.

The girls were brought inside and we sang Happy Birthday to Yamaarashi-chan, without sending a nickle to ASCAP. We ate cupcakes and opened gifts: a school backpack for next year, a copy of Stratego, and the Harry Potter™ Uno deck. Yeah, there's a parental theme in there: games you need other people to play. Yamaarashi-chan is still too much of a loner. (Damn, the camera screwed up again; I thought I got a good picture of Yamaarashi-chan enjoying a cupcake, but it's not there. I should know to check the review window by now.)

Then it was time to take Yamaarashi-chan back to her mother's house.

When I got home Omaha was already digging up the garden again, driving the stake into the ground with a sledgehammer she borrowed from the neighbor (and why does he own one?). We cleared out a ton of dead brush that's still piling up, but most of the eastern facing is getting done, finally.

Review: Ghost in the Shell Standalone Complex, Season 1

Wow. Just f'ing wow.

Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex is probably one of the few TV shows based on a movie that is, in many ways, better than the movie. The show is a half-hour format, 26 episodes in the first seaon, divided between "Standalone" episodes which can be watched independently, and "Complex" episodes that follow what has come to be known as "The Laughing Man" story arc.

The standalone episodes are pretty damned good, but it's the complex episodes with their story arc that's so amazing. The actual motives are ordinary-- government corruption involving a withheld vaccine-- but the uncovering of the plot, and the extent to which the powerful go to remain powerful, provides incredibly powerful emotional value against which the "white knights" of Section 9 Public Peace play out their roles. The relationship between Motoko Kusanagi and Batou is given real power, the characters who were barely ciphers in the film like Tsuga and Ishikurwa are actually given personalities and motives. Aramaki has an old girlfriend; Matoko has roommates.

But the series doesn't go deep into that; those are mere glimpses. What we do get is an unequivocal action cop show with some of the best damned art anime has yet to put on the screen, a storyline that's allowed to grow and expose much more than we could have gotten in a two-hour movie, and characters complicated enough to be unpredictable. When Tsuga, who has the least cyberware of anyone on the team gets injured, Maktoko's reaction is stunning but not out of character.

The soundtrack, by Kanno Yoko, is likewise perfect in too many ways. One of the best I've heard yet.

Here's hoping the US Release on Cartoon Network next fall doesn't butcher the voices. The Japanese voice actors for Batou, Aramaki, and Matoko were incredible.