November 16th, 2005


8+ hours of sleep is a beautiful thing.

[Though apparently I'm not gonna repeat it tonight.  Oops.  P.S. I am in the market for a good "tired" icon.  A good lightning one would be lovely as well.]

Today there were luncheon leftovers including vegetarian sandwiches!  (I took one and made Alyssa take one for dinner.)

And B's RA's parents went to Switzerland and brought her back cookies, so I had 2 yummy chocolatey Swiss cookies.

On my way back to Harvard Square I saw Patty S. -- one of the people from h.s. I regret not getting to know better.  I had to go get my train, but we caught up briefly and I got her e-mail address.

So warm coming home tonight.  Hard to believe it was only 64F.

Swung by the library on the way home.  Terry was at Smith -- last weekend I think -- with Colleen.  He agreed that it's a pretty campus.  (Speaking of: Google fight, courtesy of polymexina.)

Chatting with my mom tonight, I said, "I hope London and Kuwait e-mail back tomorrow" and my mom looked very confused.  "This will sound stupid," she said, after a minute, "but I forgot you had a job."  She thought I was talking LJ people or something.

She was making cookie press cookies, and one of them got kinda warped and looked like it was giving you the finger.  "That'll be your cookie," she said, and I insisted that she take a photograph.  This reminded me of the penis cake I never got around to linking to.  Also: someone recently suggested that fandom needs choose-your-own porn (like the choose-your-own adventure books).

My advisor (former I suppose, but I expect to use the title in perpetuity) is darling.  Also, damn, his partner's mother died last week.  I had no idea.  Meep.

Romeo and Juliet told entirely in emoticons (linked by various flisters).

I need to reread the Time Quartet, and I've also been meaning to read the Austin Family books.  Of course, I needed an in-order title list for the latter.  Amazon is so thoughtful.

Look: female character gen ficathon.  I haven't done a ficathon since the Ethan ficathon in April (unless femslash_minis backup counts -- and I don't count it, 'cause it was more like adopting a plotbunny) and I have been definitively not signing up for any of the Secret Santa things but yeah, I totally signed up.

Read an interesting article in the WSJ today.  ("Uncertain Miracle: A Biotech Drug Extends a Life, But at What Price?" - front page, left column, if you're interested -- though WSJ allows online access only to subscribers)  This woman has a rare disease and wonders every day if that day is worth the thousands of dollars that day's medications cost -- which hooked me, 'cause it's a refreshing change from the entitled sense that of course you deserve everything modern medicine can offer.  The section that struck me most is as follows.
     WritersCare, another health-insurance group they had joined, sent a letter saying it was going under because of high costs.  Ms. Lees was convinced she had driven the health fund out of business.
     "Do I have any right to consume such a large percentage of the health-care dollars in this country?" she asked her husband.  Many people would say I'm being greedy--and they would be right."
     "It's not your fault the drug costs so much," Mr. Lees told her.
(The related article -- "Why Genzyme Can Charge So Much for Cerezyme" -- explains: "There is no competition, patients are desperate and most insurers pay. // Genzyme says it keeps the price high to help it pay for the hunt for other drugs and also to fund programs that allow it to give away a small part of its production [to countries that can't afford to pay the high price].")  It raises interesting issues about the obligations of insurance companies, drug companies, etc., but I was even more interested in the issue of "How much money is it worth to keep you functional each day?"

O come, O come, Emmanuel
and ransom captive Israel