I know that the news has had many reports of flooding in Missouri and the rest of the Midwest. Just wanted to say that the city of St. Louis is fine; most of the really bad flooding is either on the edges of the metropolitan area or in outlying rural areas that are generally downstream of us. The rivers are up near us, but they’re well within the capacities of levees, floodwalls, and designated wetlands. (This isn’t 1993.)

It has been super-rainy here, though that’s a good thing for the dogwoods and daffodils after last summer’s (very) minor drought.

All the attention to the river does remind me of T. S. Eliot, though, and his discussion of the river as a strong brown god. It’s an apt analogy, if you ask me.

Where to start…

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Had the chorus show. It turned out a hell of a lot better than I expected — apparently a lot of guys had been cramming lyrics ‘n’ tunes all day both Friday and Saturday — and the audience was very responsive. The snowstorm kept a lot of people home on Saturday night, though.

We won’t be able to sing with the full chorus for the next show, though we may be able to go with the smaller ensemble. The same interim director will be conducting, though, which should help stabilize a few things.

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Nigel had a flat on the way home from the chorus dress rehearsal! We managed to make it home (it was very late, the streets were slick with rain, and we were very close anyway) and got him in his usual spot that night. Then it snowed 8 inches or so, and things were unpleasant enough that we delayed changing the tire even further. When we finally got to it, we discovered that the tire had multiple large-ish breaches and would therefore need to be completely replaced. At this point, between shop closures and year-end financial obligations, Nigel is going to have to wait at least another week before he gets a new tire. It continues to make me sad.

In the meantime, I’ve been getting rides from Fred or taking the bus or train to work. I haven’t done that regularly since the pre-Nigel days, and I have to admit I sort of missed it a tiny little bit. If I catch the right bus, it takes roughly the same amount of time to get to work; it gives me a chance to unwind afterwards without having to deal with too many idiot drivers; and the University sprang for a Metro pass for me, so the bus/train doesn’t cost me anything. Finally, running for a bus is wonderful exercise — I get lots of cardio, and my motivation is built right in — and at this time of year a morning jog is invigorating.

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As of the day of the chorus’s opening night, though, Fred drives a slick 1997 BMW, in gorgeous condition, with purple leather seats. (It’s a very dark purple, such that it appears black except in direct sunlight.) This is not the first car we were eager to buy, but in retrospect it’s better that we got this one instead: it’s cheaper, it’s in better shape, and unlike the first one that was too insulated for my tastes this one lets the driver feel enough of the road to respond accordingly. As we discovered the night of that snowstorm, though, the new car (named “Klaus”) has rear-wheel drive, and though it does beautifully on virgin snow, when it hits ice it fishtails rather nastily until somebody sits in back.

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Said snowstorm was more wind and fury than actual precipitation. That said, we still got 8 inches. (Actual inches, not gay.com inches. cue that rimshot.) Most fell Saturday evening during the chorus show, so while the roads were so-so on the way to the theater, they were atrocious on the way home. (This is mostly because the city didn’t plow anything until Sunday morning.) The extra-sucky part about our trip home from the theater was that all of our available routes involved some combination of bridges and long uphill grades, which are rough going in any sort of wheeled vehicle. We insisted that Fred’s mother stay the night

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Had finals in both classes, and nailed ‘em both. I kinda sorta broke the curve in the programming class (101%, sorry). Didn’t do quite that well in physio, but I won’t complain about that. (Physio was one of those “lecture four hours straight” sorts of classes, which I actually enjoy in a perverse way. It’s the virtual labs that made me groan in disgust.)

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The departmental holiday party was the night of the programming final, so I didn’t get to stick around. The food looked amazing, though I couldn’t eat much of it (time was short, also the tooth was starting to flare up), and it was refreshing to see everybody there with their spouses and partners et al. and kids. The music was a little interesting, though; one of the postdocs from the dept chair’s lab (who bears a striking resemblance to Justin Timberlake, no fooling) and another postdoc who had once been in our department sang and played guitar. Apparently they switched to karaoke later on, once the booze kicked in, but I’m not sure how I feel about that. Great moment, though, was attempting to explain the Violent Femmes’ “Blister in the Sun” — WHICH THEY ACTUALLY PLAYED AT THE DEPARTMENT HOLIDAY PARTY, this obviously still blows my mind — to those unfamiliar with that song.

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You know about last Wednesday. Swollen cheek, broken tooth, new gay dentist, etc. Been on those meds ever since, and though the antibiotic occasionally gives me a headache (especially in the presence of fly food) I haven’t had any further problems. I can chew again, which is a relief even if I do have to go easy on the left side of my mouth.

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Thanks to the dental condition, we postponed holiday observations until at least after the New Year. Don’t ask me what I got, because I really don’t know yet. We spent both the Solstice weekend and Christmas Day at home, putzing around and watching “Labyrinth“, “Elf“, episodes from season 2.0 of “Battlestar Galactica“, and snippets of “A Christmas Story“. (No vacation time for me yet, so I had to work on Christmas Eve. I did cut out a bit early, though, because nobody was there.)

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Food and geekery posts to follow.

Yup, we’re getting rain from the tropical depression formerly known as Hurricane Dennis.

This will not be a big thing for my coastal readers. However, I should remind you that I am in St. Louis — currently six hundred miles (a thousand kilometers) from the shore.

because it isn’t supposed to rain like this in the Midwest! We expect hail and tornadoes and just general wrath-of-God stuff with our rain, not this steady downpour for three days crap. What’s going on here? Where’s the ark?

While I’m thinking about it - Midwesterners, it’s just water. You aren’t going to melt if it hits you. (At least I hope you won’t. That’d suck, considering you’re made of the stuff.) Just wear a hat or carry an umbrella or something; people will understand, because it rained on them too.

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Friday after work I picked up some beer and a pizza and chilled at home. It was a rough week, and both beer and pizza were a welcome spot of relief. (Although sometimes I think Red Stripe goes down a bit too easy…)

Saturday R* and I hit the Japanese Festival at the nearby Missouri Botanical Garden. I knew that parking there would be a bitch, but I only live a couple blocks away, so I suggested we walk over. It was overcast, but warm, so I wore shorts and sandals; R* wore jeans and shoes and was a bit uncomfortable temperature-wise during the 6-block walk over. (R* would be sure to note at this point that they were long blocks.)

After the initial sticker shock at the gate ($10 to get in!), the Festival was enjoyable. It was actually a pleasant day - would have been stifling hot had the sun been out - so the walk around the Garden was a treat for all the senses. R* had his camera and took a bajillion pictures, as usual - although he was so busy with that that he missed out on watching the silly otaku dressed as Inu Yasha and Kagome making fools of themselves all throughout the place. (They weren’t embarrassed for themselves, but there was no need - everybody else was embarrassed for them. “Was that supposed to be Inu Yasha?” “Yeah, I think so.” “Oh, Lord, what a loser.”)

R* took me through the Climatron and we compared notes on tropical flora. His knowledge is a bit more than mine - duh, he grew up surrounded by these plants - but I think I held my own. (We did have a laugh when we came to the little candy machines - they were next to the signs for the cacao and the cashew trees, and dispensed - you guessed it - chocolate and cashews!) R* did manage to attract a bit of puzzled attention, though, when he started eating the flowers off one particular bush. (they taste like very subtle wood sorrel.)

After a while we stopped for food - I needed caffeine and sugar, and he needed something more substantial. I got some green tea ice cream and a fruit slush, while he got meat on a stick and a very delicious mushroom and noodle dish called Buddha’s Delight. (Please note - that site has the descriptions for Buddha’s Delight and Jungle Curry switched.) We ate, otaku-watched, checked out a bonsai exhibit, and wandered a bit more before heading out.

R* wasn’t quite ready for Greek food just yet so I foisted some Buster Keaton on him - specifically, his magnum opus, The General. In retrospect I should have started him off with The Playhouse, which would have been a better introduction to Keaton’s comic style and to silent film in general. (Memorable moment: “James, there’s no sound!” “Um, there isn’t supposed to be any. That’s why they call it a silent film.”)

After a bit of The General we hit the Greek Festival. R* was still mostly full from his meat and mushrooms and noodles, so he just had some tiropita and pastries; I was hungry, so I had salad and kebabs and spanakopita and a little piece of heaven. Afterwards we walked over to Ch� Yoon for bubble tea and boy-watching.

Sunday I didn’t do much. It was rainy, and I didn’t feel like going out or doing anything. Aside from playing Sonic Adventure in Japanese (makes it more challenging when you have no idea what you’re supposed to do; also, I love the way Tails says “Sonic-de!”), I ate dinner with my two younger brothers. The younger brother had plans for the night, so I wound up housing the youngest; first, though, I took him for bubble tea (but not at my usual spot - we hit St. Louis Bubble Tea, which is less Central West End-y and more Loop-y), and made him watch some Buster Keaton. (Yeah. I’m just a boba-and-Buster evangelist.)

Monday, more rain. blah. Youngest brother had to get some books for one of his classes (great timing, Dan) so I took him by a few bookstores after a quick stop at work. Finished off the evening unloading furniture from my parents’ trip to Oklahoma.

It seems my grandmother had never bothered to clean out my grandfather’s desk - not even before they were going to move it. I’m told that, when my uncle and father tipped the desk onto its side to get it through the door, one of the drawers opened, spilling glitter and Valium all over the floor. Now every time I think about it I picture my grandfather, in all his lanky greyness, as a cigarette boy at Studio 54… and double over laughing. (sorry, can’t find a better link.) Hi-larious.

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St. Louisans should read this piece from Memphis Magazine about ‘hidden treasures’ in town. I especially like the onion analogy - there are just so many layers to this place, and some are more fragrant than others.

Spent the weekend at Strassenfest eating knackwurst and drinking beer while hanging around outside and watching people and their dogs. The weather was abnormally mild, so it was a great time. (Normally it’s pushing 100 degrees Fahrenheit [about 40 Celsius] and around 90% humidity, and the guys in lederhosen start to smell iffy. And there are always a lot of guys in lederhosen at the Strassenfest. And very, very, very, very, very few are hot enough to still be sexy while sweating in embroidered leather.)

Although I started thinking about Nietzsche while sitting by the Soldier’s Memorial, and decided that I’m only an übermensch when I’m naked. (It makes more sense when you’re drunk. Trust me.) That’s when I decided it was time to leave.

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My work computer decided to die on me, so I’m in the process of rebuilding it. (Actually, it was more of a “My computer isn’t working; can you buy me a new one, or do I just have to rebuild?” rhetorical question to my boss.) Combine that with the fact that we’re moving back to the newly spiffed cubefarm, and you can see how I’m being veeeeeeeeeeery unproductive at work. (You’ll note the lack of complaint in my tone.)

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Rented a compilation of Indian pop songs on DVD from Netflix. The best one is Tum Bin Jiya, and I’m not just saying that because the boy in the video is hot. The other one that’s really worth watching is a standard-issue English boy-band called Code Red performing with THE queen of Bollywood, Asha Bhosle - I about died laughing when they started showing her their dance moves.

(Hey, look, Tim, a reference to the UK!)

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Questions to ponder, and readings to, um, read.

Does a post-adolescent fascination with childish things indicate an innate emotional immaturity? Or is the author just full of hot air?

Is Canada the Land of Enlightenment, or is it all just a front?

And why hasn’t the Missouri Plan for non-partisan judicial selection been adapted for federal use yet? Doesn’t a democratic society rely upon an impartial judiciary?