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Sometimes I forget that some people's coping mechanism is to avoid all news entirely. NobodysHome: I hope that you and yours are safe!
So of course she looked it up and now she's gone dead silent because I'm sure she's feeling overwhelmed with grief. But it's really hard to see a tragic disaster befall a friend's home city and not ask, "Are you OK?"
So, when your infant is 6 months old and crying for 2 hours every morning because your pediatrician told you to "just let him cry", that's a parental choice. I disagree with it, but I may be in the minority. When your toddler is 2 years old and walking and talking and still crying for 2 hours every morning, it really feels like something is wrong there. But you can't exactly walk up to your neighbors and say, "Hey, I'm really concerned that your toddler is crying all the time. You should get that checked out." *SIGH*
The Bay Area's microclimates are a neverending source of amusement. We've been getting warnings about a massive heat wave for about a week now, and I keep checking the weather and see nothing remotely akin to a heat wave locally...
EDIT: Oh, I know that we'll get ours come late September or early October, when we get a week's worth of 95-105°F weather in uninsulated houses never designed for that kind of heat with no AC, and we'll listen to the hand-wringing about how, "It's never been so hot around here before," when it happens every. Single. Year. But that's months away. It's July. It's cold. (57°F and foggy at the moment.) I'll be smug all the way up 'til when the heat wave actually hits me.
Is owning a smart cat a blessing or a curse? Blacky continues his entertainingly clueless ways, last night nearly falling into the toilet because his sense of depth perception is apparently nonexistent. And his attempts to steal the Fluffernutter's food continue in the vein of, "NobodysHome puts out food. Blacky runs up to it. NobodysHome carries him out of the room. Blacky wonders how his clever plan was foiled again." Fluffy, on the other hand... As I mentioned, she'd already learned that going straight for the food was a no-go, so she'd been waiting for me to leave the room before descending on it. I'd come back in, catch her in the act, and go out. So she's started hiding until after my first revisit. The only way I caught her this morning was because I like to do a kitten check in the morning and after a search of the house didn't reveal her I went back to the bedroom, and there she was, happily nomming the Fluffernutter's food. She'd hid through multiple revisits until I took long enough that she was confident I was gone for good. She is too clever by half, that one.
Am I so British it hurts as well?The fact that it was called 'breakfast stout' should have been a warning sign, since nobody but the most abandoned rakehell actually drinks stout for breakfast, and Heaven hides its face in shame and anguish from someone who voluntarily drinks beer that tastes of jam - jam! - at any time. Revolting, but I shall still finish it, since it cost me £4.90.You are SO British it hurts! Do you drink stout that tastes like jam and then insist on finishing your pint in spite of it?
As you know, we've been playing a lot of 5e, both tabletop and in Solasta. And it has a lot of shortcomings. But this morning's really hit home: After playing a druid up to 15th level, I realized something about the Wild Shape ability: If I could use it as a debuff against enemy casters, I would. So yes, one of the druid's defining class features was made so useless that it'd be better as a debuff. Oops. As an example, at 8th level you're allowed to transform into a CR 1 creature that ooh, ooh, can have a flying speed! But considering Fly is a 3rd-level spell, your wizard has been able to make people fly for multiple levels now, so what are you doing? In short, they kept it in for flavor and roleplay ("I'm going to sneak into the castle as a weasel!"), but it's no longer a combat ability.
The fact that it was called 'breakfast stout' should have been a warning sign, since nobody but the most abandoned rakehell actually drinks stout for breakfast, and Heaven hides its face in shame and anguish from someone who voluntarily drinks beer that tastes of jam - jam! - at any time. Revolting, but I shall still finish it, since it cost me £4.90. You are SO British it hurts!
Wait, is that how we got tea? Part of boiling water to make it safe? Pretty much.
...aaaand, regretting life decisions. Poor Lenore. It's a perfectly beautiful, lovely name, and most people who hear it are at least vaguely reminded of Poe. But given her sheer size and aggression in pursuing food or anyone foolish enough to assault Morrigan, we now hear daily cries of, "Here comes the Bismark!" Sorry, kitty!
And why is AI years away from taking our jobs? I attended the first day of xxx's training on xx-xxx-2025, so I am providing feedback on his course design and training delivery. I thoroughly enjoyed your training session and found your course design to be engaging and well-structured. Your delivery was clear and concise, making it easy for me to follow along and absorb the material. Keep up the excellent work! Notice anything? Like the fact that my tone was entirely neutral and fact-based, and AI turned it into glowing praise? I mean, WTF? And it's been doing that every time. I even tried "AI sucks" as a prompt and it turned it into a glowing review of AI. So, if you want everyone to win a prize...
You do wonder what it says about me that I requested feedback from the entire team about my performance over the last year, but only about half of them have dared ask for me to review them. I am the Simon Cowell of performance feedback.
"So how am I supposed to know who is behind in their work? Open all their emails? Please advise?" (1) Unlearn any and all stupidity someone whose brain resides in the 1970s taught you. (2) Determine the industry standard expected production from each employee based on their role.(3) Instead of monitoring their emails, or how many bathroom breaks they take, or whether they're watching YouTube or YouPorn at their desks, monitor their production as well-defined for every job in every industry. (4) If they're meeting their production quota and their work is of acceptable quality, leave them the f*** alone. EDIT: I swear, such requests enrage me because they show such a fundamental lack of comprehension as to why you hired an employee in the first place. You needed a job done. You hired someone to do that job. Either they are doing that job satisfactorily or they aren't. Anything else is none of your f***ing business unless they're breaking the law.
OMG. The moment our father thought we were old enough (I might have been 13-ish?) he taught us Bridge. Instant addiction. It's such a good game, and so underrated. And yes, Bridge etiquette is a constant thing of ridicule out our table ("If you'd done that at a real table a little old lady would've shot you,") but it's still a really fun game. Self-congratulatory true story: So, I'd been playing for several years when I was helping chaperone a ski trip and some of the other chaperones needed a fourth for Bridge. I admitted I'd never played outside of my family game but I'd be happy to try. I proceeded to get the most ludicrous set of hands ever, performed two slams, and was never invited to play with them again, because I was obviously a Bridge shark.
New lows in corporate incompetence We're in a massive (1000+ attendees) Zoom presentation, so only the presenters have sound. And one of THEM started watching a movie without muting themselves. You heard the swelling opening music and the industry jingle before they realized what they were doing and muted themselves. It's like, "Seriously? You're watching a movie while you're presenting?!?!?"
Impus Minor pointed out one of the unspoken benefits of living in a stupid-rich area: "One man's trash is another man's treasure" takes on a whole new level of stupid. Three or four weeks ago he found a fully-functional 42" nearly-new Samsung TV set that the owners discarded because the batteries in the remote had leaked and ruined the remote. "Honey, the remote won't work any more!" "Oh, I guess we'll need to buy a new TV, then." Around that time he declared that he needed a work table and co-opted one of our TV tables. Yesterday GothBard and I were walking and found a fully-intact drafting table on the curb for disposal. And not a crappy one: Powdered steel base, laminated top; probably a $300-$400 table. Thrown out because the plastic cupholders on the side were bent a bit. So Impus Minor is furnishing his entire room using other people's throwaways of top-tier items with trivial flaws. He is pleased.
It's why I don't use grocery delivery services. "Buy this brand or don't buy it" is an option you can select, but since they get paid based on the total bill they always try to choose a replacement instead.From what little I know, some shoppers(it may now be most or even all) get in trouble if they do not make a substitution. Which wouldn't surprise me one whit. The illusion of choice is a classic megacorporation tactic. Next to each items is a, "What should the shopper do if this item is out of stock?" checkbox, with, "Choose a substitute item" or "Do not purchase this item". But the shopper is instructed to ignore that checkbox and always purchase an item, thereby generating more money for the corporation, and they can chalk it up to "an honest mistake" and say, "They'll contact the shopper about the issue." Yep. It tracks.
Speaking of honey badgers... ...a couple of months ago, our neighbors had an arborist come by and the aborist recommended cutting the dead part of a tree overhanging our yard away. GothBard objected, because dead tree full of crows. The arborist relented. Our gardener, Force of Nature who wouldn't even stop for COVID (we taped the money to the back door because he just kept right on coming even when we told him we'd pay him not to), came to the same conclusion as the arborist. He examined it, thought about it, thought about our cats, and without so much as a by-your-leave came by today and took the tree out. When I asked him to tell us next time his response was simply, "It could have hurt your cats, so it had to go." When a man picks up a chainsaw to defend your cats, it's really hard to be peeved at him.
In lighter news, only those who have experienced it can appreciate true shopping dyslexia. If you cook or shop at all, you know that different brands have different colors, flavors, and textures, and you likely have a favorite. The kids were so bad about buying store-brand stuff (almost always nigh-inedible, especially the cheeses) that I started listing brand names and even sending them pictures to make sure they got the right stuff. But this one still stuns me.
In other words, it's not just not Fancy Feast, it's not just not canned food, it's not even cat food. I am at a loss. And I know that anyone out there who sends friends or family members to shop for them knows this pain. It's why I don't use grocery delivery services. "Buy this brand or don't buy it" is an option you can select, but since they get paid based on the total bill they always try to choose a replacement instead.
Terms differ, sometimes wildly, over the many, many years. I have received and delivered talking tos over the same many, many years. What was acceptable when you were 20 may not be acceptable today and vice versa, which is a shock to some. O.M.G. Don't get me started on the number of words we considered perfectly "fine" back in the day but that are now verboten. Some of them smack me in the face like a frozen halibut when I say something and the kids gasp and shudder, "You can't say that word!"
An older definition: Remember that I'm from the Rocky Horror Picture Show days, so "transsexual" back then translated almost perfectly to "bisexual" or "pansexual". I really appreciate that Impus Major opened my eyes to gender (societal roles and the sex you identify with) vs. biological sex (for over 95% of us, either XY male or XX female).
The curiosity for me, as I said, is someone who declares themselves trans but who, to an outside observer, does nothing beyond changing their pronoun. And I think that's a fundamentally deeper issue with me. There's a trans woman in the kids' weekly game who bursts into tears and curls up into a ball whenever she gets misgendered; it's a very strong, very deeply felt reaction for her. And yet people trying to explain her response to me ask me, "How would you feel if everyone started calling you 'she' and 'her'?" and my answer is, "I really wouldn't care." But that is obviously an aspect of me and my comfort with myself, and not everyone shares my honey badger attitude. So as I said (and Orthos repeated), I don't have to understand it, I have to respect it. And I do that. But the scientist in me is still curious as all heck.
Yeah,: I think my entire issue is the "gender" vs. "sex" issue. If you look at the U.S. "definition" of gender, I'm a woman. I cook, clean, take care of the kids, pay the bills, don't like sports, guns, or muscle cars, and would rather spend an evening cooking for and chatting with an exhausted group of women who'd all had s****y days at work than go to a bar, strip club, or just hang out with the guys. But I ignore any and all grief people try to give me over that 'cause I'm obstinate. So although I fulfill all the gender requirements of being a woman in U.S. society, I don't consider myself a woman. So transgenderism is hard for me, because if you don't like your gender role, ignore it.
We don't have a solid term for transsexism; "transsexual" was coopted and is utterly useless as a term. I consider a transsexual to be someone uncomfortable with the biological sex they were born with. And I think therein lies my bafflement (and Drejk put it well -- since I don't suffer it I may never understand it): If you don't like your gender, you do you. If you don't like your biological sex, it seems odd that you'd continue to pursue all the trappings of it (makeup, lipstick, dresses, etc.) But yeah, I appreciate Orthos and Drejk providing some context, and I think Drejk is right; my issue is a complete mental disconnect from that feeling -- you can't empathize with something you don't feel. You can respect it. You can accept someone else's choices about it. But you can't fundamentally understand it.
So, posting here because I'm hoping some FaWtL folk will be able to shed some light for this old cis White male.
Non-Transgender Transgenders?: So, being a parent in the Bay Area, we encounter more trans kids than most, from our neighbor to two members of the kids' gaming groups to another kid's boyfriend to the first transgender person I chaperoned.
Yet the boyfriend baffles me. He insists on being called "he". But that is the end-all and be-all of it. He is a biological female. He puts on makeup and lipstick every day, prefers flattering dresses, and carries a purse. No one who casually sees him on the street or hears him speaking would ever think of him as anything other than a biological female. And yes, he has a boyfriend. So it begs the question: What is the point of calling yourself "he" if you are going to continue to fully live your live as a biological female? I'm sure there is one; even around here I'm sure he gets no end up crap for choosing "he" as a pronoun. And he doesn't seem to be doing it just to make a point. Yet he's the second trans person I've met who switched pronouns and nothing more. And I'd love to know what I'm missing. EDIT: I asked Impus Major and he doesn't know, either. He made the point that we don't need to know, we can just respect their decision. But as a scientist, I want to know. Human gender and sexuality is a fascinating, barely-scratched realm of study.
I think that really shows the difference between a "friend" and a "loyalist": I was looking up an old friend because we're desperate for a cat-sitter for our Vegas trip and his son is responsible enough I'd trust him to do it. On my Google search for his phone number... oh, my! Turns out he was ousted from his long-time government job in a major corruption scandal. I knew the guy for years, and it's hard for me to believe he got caught up in something like that. A loyalist would say, "It's obviously a set-up job! Someone planted the evidence! My friend can't possibly be guilty." It's a terrible attitude to have, because it enables people in doing terrible things. I still consider myself his friend, but I read the mountain of evidence and investigation, and I have no reason to doubt that he really did it and really ****ed up. I'm baffled, but I'm not so blindly loyal that I say, "He can't possibly have done that!" Which is always why I despise the phrase, "A friend is a person who has your back no matter what." No. A friend is someone who will believe the evidence when it turns out that you did something horrible, but who will still be there for you in spite of it.
I swear, Morrigan (Stripey) has an attitude of, "If it is alive and I can see it, then it's prey." She weighs all of 4 pounds. And yet...
There are many times a cat's territorial nature ("I am terrified to be anywhere outside of my own territory") can be frustrating. Last night was one of those instances. As has become the bizarre standard around here, the biggest 4th of July shows around the Bay Area were last night. And they must have been something, because the resonating explosions were enough to rattle the house. Our cats' reaction? "Oh, the house must be purring. Time to nap." They absolutely. Did. Not. Care. Neighbor's dog with anxiety issues? Not a good scene. And if we could have preemptively put the kittens over there, they would have been sleeping on her (because all kittens know that big dogs are the bestest pillows), she would have started, and they would have been, "Go back to sleep! You're warm! The house is purring!", and it might have helped...
Aging, euthanasia, and other depressing topics: To summarize a lifetime of expectation-setting, when my mother turned 60 she asked each of us, "If I were mentally incapacitated, would you pull the plug on me?" I was the only one who unhesitatingly said, "Yes," because she'd been emphasizing how important it was to her for our entire lifetimes, so I got medical power of attorney.
Fast forward 30 years. She had a stroke. It was not life-threatening, but it seriously impacted her mental acuity. On that test that Trump was so proud to get 30/30 on, she got 16/30. She has serious short-term memory issues and isn't really "there" any more. She is in exactly the situation she never wanted to be in: Mentally feeble and a burden on her family. This is what she prepared us for her entire life, begging us to make sure that if she ever got to this point we would mercifully kill her. But nope. That's illegal. Because life is somehow sacred, even if the person desperately never wanted that life. She has signed legal documents, powers of medical attorney, discussions with all of her doctors. But the only person who can decide to end her life, even in a euthanasia-legal state, is her. And she's too mentally feeble to make that decision any more. I understand the legal protections: Too many evil people would try to exploit their relatives and get early inheritances by killing their elders off. But if you can provide a lifetime of writings by the person in question that say, "I never wanted this life," you should be allowed to let that person peacefully move on.
...aaaaand, Stripey squirreled under the fence to visit labradoodle. 80-pound dog did no harm to 3.5-pound kitten. Kitten has lost her outside privileges 'cause excited dogs that big can be lethal dangers. But the labradoodle is half labrador, and there is no gentler breed.
Another sign of how different the new generation is: Yesterday our gardener was supposed to come so I put his payment ($100 cash) on the door, as usual. And forgot about it. And he didn't come. The kids' entire gaming group came over -- around 10-12 people all aged 20-25. They were here for about 9 hours. And after they left, the cash was still there. I am sorry to say that this was not how things were when I was young; I can't imagine any of my friends having a large gathering with cash on the door without that cash vanishing. Of course, when I was that age it wasn't the best of times.
OK, that's pretty fricking adorable. Wish I could claim any credit for it whatsoever. Old Neighbors have a labradoodle rescue. Apparently she has serious anxiety issues, especially around other animals. Unbeknownst to any of us, Fluffy (Lenore) has been going up to the fence, touching noses with her, and calming her down. And the other kittens have followed suit. And now the kittens are the only animals the labradoodle fundamentally trusts. Neighbor: "I wish the trainer we're bringing in was as good with her as your kittens." (The labradoodle also stopped barking at us, but started barking at one of the kids' friends who visited. Apparently, we're "with the kittens".)
As a person under 5', 24" is a considerable portion of my leg - we're well into the thigh -, which makes leveraging that step very difficult. I don't know what their height situation is, but that's my excuse. Fair try, but they're all taller than I am. And my 50+-year-old housekeeper is shorter than I am at maybe 5'2" and she has no trouble with it, either, even carrying a vacuum cleaner.
And the eternal joy of co-workers not understanding that resources cost money and you can't just go around handing them to people outside of the department. We fought tooth-and-nails for multiple years to get two dev instances for our division. Two instances shared by around 50 people, and it's all we have, and it's in our budget. And yet again, someone in our division this morning. "Hey, this person wants to record a demo and they can't access our instances. Can you please grant them access?" No. No, I won't. Ever. Go away.
Looks almost identical to this except mine doesn't have the spikes sticking up. I mean, WTF? If the thing had spikes like that I wouldn't blame anyone for having trouble. But no, it's that pen without the stuff sticking up; the top is 100% flat.
Being well over 50, I feel justified in this tirade. The kids' friends range in age from 20 to 25. None of them are disabled. None of them are obese. Some of them even participate in competitive sports. And yet over half of them cannot manage to step over our 24" kitten barrier. (OK, they sell it as a small dog enclosure, but I'm sure it was intended for kittens.) Admittedly, I keep myself in shape. But I've never had an issue. GothBard had a shoelace catch *once*. Impus Major moves past it as if it doesn't exist. Impus Minor finds it annoying, but has no trouble. How can so many 20-25-year-olds be so incapable of getting past a simple 24" barrier that they constantly knock is over, get tangled up in it, or otherwise can't manage a remarkably simple physical agility test?
"Fun" decision time -- it's Farmer's Market day, and someone parked blocking our driveway, forcing GothBard to park a block away and haul the groceries here on foot. So, if it weren't for the quasi-legal nature of our driveway, I'd have already called the police and had them towed. As it is, I hesitate to draw added attention to the fact that since we can't legally park in our driveway, we park across it all the time. Yes, the cops did say, "We're only going to tow a car if the homeowner calls," but these days it's kind of stupid to enter into a war of escalation with someone rude enough to block your driveway. EDIT: Well, they left before my neighbors could get back to me as to whether it was a friend of theirs, so decision unnecessary.
I've heard some people mention baby shirts as an alternative. Yes, they sell absolutely marvelous onesies for female cats, and yes, we did indeed get the Sabaton special edition for Fluffy/Lenore and it worked wonderfully. But for male cats, the incision is, erm, right where they use the bathroom, so there's no such suit. We gave up. We're just letting him run wild, giving him opiates twice a day and figuring his Constitution score is so ludicrously through the roof that in the end it's just not going to matter.
One of the things that really strikes me about Global Megacorporation's approach to training is how low it sets expectations: NobodyHome's first training job circa 2000: "Your job is 50% platform time, 25% writing curriculum, and 25% consulting. Part of that consulting is that if a customer asks you a question and you can't answer it, you need to track down the answer and solve their problem." I spent many hours in the deep recesses of the buildings of defense contractors or aerospace companies trying to resolve their exact, specific issues with our software. And if I had to bring in engineers to help, I had full authority to do so. NobodysHome's first curriculum development job, circa 2004: "Your job is 10% training. If a customer asks you a question and you can't answer it, and you have the time and inclination, you're encouraged to find the answer. But don't let it affect your other work." Global Megacorporation's approach: "If the student can't name the specific slide or practice page on which they have the problem, you shouldn't answer it. Tell them to go to support." And yet the training is still consistently rated 4.6-4.8/5. If I had a question outside the curriculum and the instructor said, "Sorry, not my problem," they sure as h*** wouldn't get a 4 or a 5 out of me.
Oh, good. Dumb co-worker just asked me to perform a peer evaluation for them. "Try being smarter" is unlikely to be appreciated.
I think it says a *lot* about fashion that the horrific collars we put on pets to keep them from licking their wounds are called "Elizabethan collars" after the fashion of the day: Pet Elizabethan (e-) collar.Human Elizabethan collar.
I swear. He was reunited with the girls. And in his pride and happiness he brought forth his mightiest trophy: His collar. After we spent $30 on a new one...
...but NobodysHome, why do you call him dumb? Got food. Walked into the back yard. Showed the girls the bowl. They watched me put it down and head back inside. They trotted straight over to the bowl and started chowing down. Got food. Walked into WhimseyShire. Showed the Furminator the bowl. He watched me put it down and head up the stairs. He chased after me, begging for the food he'd just seen. He got confused when my hands were empty. I had to physically pick him up and put him down next to the bowl for it to register to him.
...and, for the first time in 40+ years of cat ownership, a cat has managed not only to remove his e-collar, but to hide it so well an entire family searching the house couldn't find it. This tom is a monster. A little black deity of chaos and destruction. And purring.
Blacky barged out of WhimseyShire at 4:00 am, collar-free, and ran amok. At 5:30 am GothBard got up and administered the opiate. It didn't slow him down at all. It's now 7:50, he's exhausted both other kittens, and he's still rampaging around the house. GothBard has dubbed him, "The Furminator".
I had an epiphany this morning: Although I was an alcoholic between 40 and 50, before then I drank very little and did no mind-altering drugs at all. And I just realized: It was fundamentally important to me to always be in control of myself because my friends were sadistic pranksters. I give the origin of the phrase "buttweiner" as an example. So if you want to avoid drugs and addiction, make sure you have friends who will ruthlessly exploit your helplessness.
So, how bada$$ is Mephisto Zoolander Meatball the Magnificent?
6:00 am: 75 mg gabapentin. This time he was obviously completely unaffected. When he got to the vet at 8:00 am, as they described it, 'He wouldn't stop yelling at us 'til we took him out of his cage and held him, at which point he just started purring." 10:30 am: Surgery. The anaethestic actually worked, much to everyone's surprise, but... 12:00 noon: He was already awake and demanding food. They fed him a little and he had no trouble at all. 2:00 pm: After two solid hours of him bouncing off the walls and attacking everything in sight, then getting moved to the studio and doing vertical laps around the cat tree and desk ("he'll sleep after the surgery" my eye), we dosed him with 0.03 mg of Buprenorphine. 3:30 pm; He settled down into his basket to watch the world. Which is his [i]absolutely normal behavior at that hour[/b]. In short, they haven't given us a drug yet that even slows him down. Terror kitty.
Customers. "Is there a limit to the number of agenda items you can add to a single meeting?" I guess "common sense" wouldn't be a good answer, because they're clearly lacking.
Blacky is built different. I was concerned that the vet recommended 1.5x the dosage of gabapentin that Fluffy had gotten. Shouldn't have been. He shook it off as if it was saline. Now he's back from surgery and I honestly don't know how they knocked him out. He's up, he's hyper, and we're sitting here begging the vet, "Please! We know he just came out of surgery, but there must be some safe sedative to give him!" Boy plays hard. EDIT: I emailed the vet for help and she said it was OK to hit him up with the opiate that knocked Fluffy cold for 12 hours at a time. We'll see whether it even slows him down.
Advice to anyone providing training: Don't consistently insult your audience's intelligence trying to reassure them. I've been watching this training for 8 minutes.
"Providing or getting feedback can be really daunting, so I know you'll be really worried about it." "The navigation here changed from just 'Feedback' to 'feedback center', and I know that can be confusing, but..." I have absolutely no desire to listen to these people any more.
Yeah, once they learned that it was cheaper to sell you devices with no controls *and* they could make money by making you install a data-slurping app to control said devices, we were all boned. See, in the settings menu, the app asks for permission to use Bluetooth (Makes sense), the camera (Uh, what?), and location services (Why? Also, I keep this off all the time.) So I try turning all those on. And it works. Case in point. And every time I see one of these, I'm grateful to Global Megacorporation for their very pragmatic, "If we catch you collecting data you don't absolutely need for business purposes specifically for our company and not some other company, you're fired," approach. Yes, I understand that because we're a multinational corporation, it's much cheaper to write our software once to adhere to the strictest privacy standards in the world than to re-format it for every country based on their privacy laws, but it could be done with a swappable "privacy module" and we don't. So I appreciate it.
I swear, I love kittens so much, because Evil. They're now climbing all the shelving, knocking off and breaking all the little knick-knacks that clutter every square inch of horizontal space in the house. Throwing out SOOOO much decorative stuff makes me happy. And probably Evil.
I love this one:Humility. It can be VERY hard for some people to admit they were taken, others saying they almost fell for it too soothes the ego. That word... I don't recognize it...
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