Pyrotex

We got a memo around the office this week that a new monitoring program has been installed at NASA, and that "big brother" will be taking a more active interest in our internet sojourns. The new rules forbid not just visiting sites with questionable or offensive content, but ANY site that is not directly work related.

So, my posts will (mostly) come from home now.

Only the trouble is, I don't know what to post anymore. None of the science threads seem to interest...

Pyrotex

Second verse, same as the first.

Here we are, evacuated to Huntsville, TX, again. This time we are at my mother-in-law's apartment, fleeing the wrath of Ike. There is a difference, however. Ike makes Gustav look like a summer zephyr with insecurity problems. Ike has teeth, fills damn near the entire Gulf of Mexico, and appears to be headed directly at the Kroger parking lot just across hiway 518 from us.

Gustav was good practice, and this time the whole packing...

Pyrotex

I’ll have you know that I’m not really “old” in any ordinary sense of the word. I think young, I act young (when I have the spare energy), and still retain all the curiosity and wonder as I ever did as a kid. And I was a pretty smart kid.
Why, I remember as clear as yesterday that my Mom took me to visit some family in Philadelphia. I was only seven or thereabouts, and was totally bored with all the adult conversation going on in the house, so I sneaked out the back and wandered down main...

Pyrotex

Gustav is one sorry pain in the butt. As I write, he's tearing Havana, Cuba apart. The weather stiffs give Houston maybe one chance in 20 of catching the western edge of this Hurricane, but at 150 MPH, the "edge" is bad enough.

So we have to evacuate. God, how I hate this. If I were single, I would have put the cat in a pet hostel this morning, packed the car with a six-pack of Cokes and a box of Nutribars, and Monday, I would drive to a motel over on the west side of...

Pyrotex

Buffy wanted me to do a blogen* on cooking. Okay, Buffy, this one is for you.

It's very nearly impossible to do an adequate job of cooking something -- and I mean by this, all the effort required to chop, slice, mix, thaw, beat, combine, measure, cut, pour, stir, manage the temperature, serve, etc -- AND think about sex at the same time.

And it's a good thing, too. This twist of reality (that is, the impossibility of cooking and simultaneously thinking about sex)...

Pyrotex