Why Can't A Weasel Marry A Fish, Anyhow? The physical absence of a mechanical hand clicking over from one night's minutes to the next morning's in no way assuages the dreary feeling which sets in when your digital clock merrilly glows its four midnight digits like some tacky neon sign for a dive cafe populated by the dregs of society spilling their ennui onto the sidewalk and you just know you're not going to sleep for quite some time.
Resigned to wakefulness last night, I perused my bookshelves for some thirty minutes, reminding myself of all the curious tomes I've picked up but have yet to read. If nothing else, I could revel in my options. Among those awaiting my attentions tonight: Christopher Moore's Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story, a Pynchon-and-a-half of slow but enjoyable novels which have sat untouched for the better part of three years, the dry text of a programming theory book which would only serve to irritate if it didn't hasten the arrival of sleep, and somehow, I knew that it wouldn't this particular early morning. William Wharton's modern day fox fable begs to be reread one of these days, sharing a shelf with a collection of Ogden Nash verses. I just don't have the energy to crack open Vernor Vinge's collection of short stories, nor to settle in to a translation of any one of a quarter-dozen Stanislaw Lem tales.
So what to do!
My saviour came in the form of a children's book, ages 4-8, purchased quite some time ago mostly on the basis of its adorable cover art and since left unread. Tor Seidler's The Wainscott Weasel is by no means an intellectual hurdle to vault through; it is, however, a whimsical tale of dancing weasels, not entirely mindless in characters, distracting enough to kill the ninety minutes until sleep began to sound like a good idea, and put a small smile on my face before I followed through on the notion.

Yum Cooking is fun.
I don't do it nearly often enough.
Perhaps because I don't like to clean up afterwards.
But probably because I'm lazy.

The eyes have it I just replaced my deskspace sucking monitor with a cute little black rectangle of an LCD. I'm quite happy with it. No, it's not miraculous. But it works well enough.
Yay, the future.

Lists So, Merry wanted everyone to make a list of a hundred things not everyone would know about us. Here is my, uh, effort.

It turns out that a hundred is a lot.