London Days

Which is to say: quite foggy. Couldn't even see the farm next door, let alone across the fields.

My daughter was quite the grump today. She'd gotten to bed late, hence got up late, so she felt hurried through breakfast -- an attitude that she was more than willing to share with us at the breakfast table. She doesn't have happy things to look forward to, either -- she's got a dental appointment (just a cleaning, but still...), and today's the day she is supposed to bring home her running grade sheet. That's a self-maintained summary of how she's doing in her tests and projects. Its part of my plan to focus tightly on her performance. She's already begun to cut herself some slack; I want to be a hardnose about this, and keep reminding her that if she fails to achieve first honors, she won't have extracurricular activities in her first semester of high school. I really don't care how this screws up her social life. She, on the other hand, is hoping I will forget about the grade sheet. I'm guessing a one out of three chance that she doesn't bring it home, at which point she loses the right to watch television for a couple of days. I can't wait.

We bought some new sheets, with a particularly high thread count, and were astounded to note, after their initial washing, that they were rough -- like sleeping on soft burlap. What in the world could this be? (Or as Dorothy Parker used to put it: What fresh hell is this?)

I received a note from a woman whose web site I like to look at (its about being successful in small business). She's apparently having something of a rough time -- child sick, she's sick, financial flow isn't what it could be -- and I had said that if she needed to dump on someone, instead of her husband (whom, after all, she has to live with), she could complain to me. I also said that this was unusual for me; I don't normally warm up to people easily, and I don't. She replied that in her estimation, most of the people who communicate on the web are showing their true selves. Although the common assumption is that they put on a mask (by the way, have I mentioned that I'm about six feet two inches, toned and buff? No?), she thinks that they take the opportunity to release themselves from the common social bonds. I think its both, though I admit that I hadn't thought about the flip side till she mentioned it. Certainly, that helps to explain flame wars.

Why isn't the Blogger spell check working?

I'm going to be somewhat apprehensive for the next week, off and on, as a week from this Thursday I have the dental surgery to actually insert the implants into my upper jaw. I'm not particularly nervous about the surgery itself; I'm nervous about pain afterwards (I never used to think about that, but after the bone graft, where I actually took pain meds for three days, or two more than normal, I think about it now), and whether it'll work (statistically, one of the implants will fail to bond (the phrase is 'osseointegration'). Even if two fail, the structure will be okay (unless they're right next to each other, I think). Still, I'm thinking good thoughts about all of them working. I want this to be over, just as I want the physical therapy to be over.

I've also exchanged a couple of emails with a fellow who maintains a small site called WhyILikeObama.Com. I recommend it. Although I am not an Obama supporter (though I am, somewhat more, than I used to be), I think he does a nice job of presenting what he thinks, and why. It isn't a Clinton-bashing site.