Random Acts of Kindness Week

Apparently, there's a special week devoted to pouncing on people and doing something nice to them.  And since I don't blog about Valentine's Day, this seems a suitably sappy substitute.

I learned about this happy event from Steve Schimmrich, who thought he might be mugged but was handed a badly-needed dollar instead.  And it got me to thinking about other random acts of kindness, either performed by or performed on me.  I've been the beneficiary of more random kindness than I dare to believe I deserve.  You, my darlings, do me more kindness than I have a right to expect.

You started out strangers, but became my friends, all because you started out by doing something randomly kind: giving a nice comment, or offering advice, or including me among the geobloggers as if I was a really real geoblogger myself.  You've done me wonders, and I'll probably never be able to repay your kindnesses back.  It's a good thing there's such a thing as paying forward.

Complete strangers have swooped down in times of dire need and done things they'd probably laugh off as inconsequential if I tracked them down and thanked them.  I'm sure the waiter at Denny's all those years ago, who made me laugh at one of the darkest times in my existence by presenting a ketchup bottle as if it were expensive champagne, didn't think he was doing anything particularly meaningful.  Just goofing off.  He threw me a lifeline, got me one foot up on a climb out of a deep black hole, and all it took was something so silly.

There were the people in Chicago, a whole crowd of them, who gathered round me in a store when I frantically asked after the location of some particular venue, and ensured I knew exactly how to get there in time to see Neil Gaiman and Will Eisner for the first time in my life.  They changed my mind about big city downtowns.  They made my day.

A thousand other things, big and small, done to a stranger by a stranger, that have kept me from believing humanity is beyond hope.

George sent me a rock hammer.  Suzanne performed rescue operations.  Cujo invited me to the theatre.  Lockwood volunteered for field trip duty. And there have been 10,000 other things, great and small, that you've done, things that make me a big squidgy mass of gratefulness and love.
I'll probably never know most of the things I've done.  I don't tend to think of myself as a random kindness person.  But I suppose I've done a few - there've been group photos taken in special spots, which probably count.  There was one gentleman who was placing an order with me, who had the most mono of monotones, until I asked him what was wrong.  He told me I wouldn't want to hear his problems.  I told him to fire away, if it'd make him feel better, and by the time he finished I was very nearly in tears - he'd had The Worst Year Ever.  At the end, he sighed, said he did in fact feel a little better, and his voice gained a bit of animation as we finished getting his business forms ordered.  I'll never forget him.

The point of all this rambling is, stuff like this isn't hard, and it's not expensive.  A dollar here, a listening ear there, a moment of time to snap a group photo or give directions or elicit a smile.  Most of us do these things already.  But at least having a week devoted to it means we can actually think about the kindnesses we do.  And perhaps we'll find ways of doing even more.  More kindness = a better world.  It's worth aiming for, especially for us cynical bastards who find it too easy to accentuate the negative. 

I just want to tell the men something important, here: if you're swooping down on strange women to do them a kindness, try to avoid doing so if there's no one else around.  We've read about too many serial killers, you see.  You might offer to help with carrying grocery bags and find yourself maced out of paranoid self-defense.  And ladies: random acts of kindness should also be done in public wherever possible.  Remember how Ted Bundy lured his victims.  And all of us should probably be careful to ensure parents understand what we're up to if we're performing a RAK for a child.

Have I mentioned I'm a bit cynical?

Anyway, those caveats in mind, go forth and do good, just as you already do, whether you know it or not.

No, I KNOW I'm Odd

I don't think there are many call-center workers whose main rave about their new computer is the fact that it can pull up 5 pdfs at once without breaking a sweat.  There's probably only a small subset of laypeople who would get so excited about finding a treasure trove of papers on the South China Sea Summer Monsoon that they have to get up from their computers and do a victory dance.

Yeah, I'm that weird.

I get asked at least once a month if I'm in college, because I'm either hauling in a ton of tomes to take notes from or babbling about some aspect of science that just captured my imagination.  "Nope," I have to answer.  "Just research."  Whether for a blog post or a bit of the book I'm writing doesn't really matter.  Fact is, I do this shit for fun.  And I love it.  If I didn't, I could blog about bullshit and I'd just make shit up willy-nilly for the novel.  Other authors have done it before, with some measure of success.

People frequently don't believe me when I tell them I don't want to go out because I'm looking forward to delving into something dense, technical, and sometimes containing equations.  The only other folks who understand are usually in grad school or headed that way.

We got into a brief conversation about television at work recently.  One of my coworkers told me 30 Rock was a great show.  I had to admit I didn't know what 30 Rock is.  He proceeded to explain, and then told me I should watch all these other sitcoms.  "Haven't got the time," I said.  He told me I could make the time.  Sure, I could.  I could get even further behind on my science-blog reading than I already am (too much great stuff!).  I could set the novel aside at the height of the winter writing season.  I could put the papers down, shelve the books, and sit in front of the boob toob to catch up on pop culture.

Yeah, and I can quit smoking any time I want, too.  My cat could stop randomly trying to kill people.  And we could have a winter without rain in Seattle.  Yup.

We're all odd in our own special ways, but there are moments when I realize how out of step with the general herd I am.  It's not easy to notice sometimes.  You, my darlings, my dearest online friends, you're usually raving about the same things I do.  You start drooling the moment Callan Bentley posts his Friday Fold, you can't wait for Seafloor Sunday, you laugh your arses off at astrology.  Data delights you.  You wax enthusiastic over various and sundry science papers and you get your geek on.  Among you, I don't stand out so much.  No, it's more like jogging behind, trying to keep up with your science geek awesomeness.  And those of my readers who aren't scientists at least appreciate the beauty of it, enjoy reading up on how the world works, and can spend a few hours lost in more than the latest pop culture phenom.

That's why it's such a rude awakening when I get to work and these conversations are going on wherein I'm reminded that no, not everybody's a geek.  In fact, the vast majority of us aren't.

And I'm just not sure how to talk to people like that.  So I don't, usually.  I have a more nefarious scheme.  I'm going to write a novel that's salted through with science-y goodness, and the readers might not even notice it at first because they'll (hopefully) be so caught up in the characters.  I'm hoping to hook them.  I'm hoping to lure them.  And then when they burble something about how realistic this bit was or how did I possibly imagine this other bit, then I'll pounce.  A-HA!  SCIENCE!  Yes, Victoria, there is such a thing on Earth as a solution valley.  Yes, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our imaginations, but fortunately, science has discovered quite a lot of them.  That's what I hope to get across: the universe is a fascinating place without me having to make up a lot of shit. 

(And I just found another pdf that has me drooling while I looked for a good link for solution valleys.  ZOMG.)

The corollary is that finding this fascinating shit out is fun.  It is rewarding.  And it's a far better use of one's short time on Earth than obsessing over Survivor.  Although if that's your bliss, fine, follow it.  Not all of us can be geeks.

But, y'know, I'm odd, so I think I'll just go curl up with some improving book and get my geek on, thanks ever so much.

Overdose of Cute, Plus Snow!

Some of you like cute kitteh photos.  Well, this post is for you.

My cat, who is spawn of Satan at the best of times and something Satan would flee from at the worst, has been overplaying the cute card over the past few weeks.  I believe she's plotting something.  Or perhaps she's just saying thanks for giving her a big ol' sheet o' paper for Xmas:

Nah.  Plot.

More disgusting cute after the fold, plus a rare glimpse of Seattle snow.

Sunsets

It's been a week for sunsets.  Seems the only thing to do is to share the beauty.

Two Ton Green Blog: Two

Guilleabramson: Bariloche sunset (click for image) (h/t)

BadAstronomer: Boulder sunset

Two Ton Green Blog: Rutabaga Sunset

Enjoy!

In Which I Babble About My New Machine

After nearly six years, I've finally broken down and bought a new computer.

My previous machine was a refurb HP Pavilion that had a whopping 50gb of memory and a processor that can only be described as not up to snuff.  Oh, it was fast when I got it (replacing an HP tower from the mid-90s, mind you).  And it served me faithfully for many a long year.  But the time had come.

I meant to get a Sony Vaio.  But whilst shopping for new machines for both myself and my intrepid companion, this one at Staples caught my eye.  It's an HP Pavilion dv7-4171us.  It had all the proper specs and a companionable keyboard.  And it was on clearance.  I walked out of the store, looked at a couple of reviews online, and marched right back to the store.  It's a good thing Staples is within walking distance.

And I'll tell you something about this computer.  I hated it last night.  It's not the old familiar machine, it's not got my stuff on it, and keep in mind that I hadn't used a new operating system or much new software in absolute years.  I'd been running an ancient version of Windows Media Player, had to have an external soundcard because its own card had crapped out, we were still on Windows 95....  It was old.  But it was what I knew.  And now here's this young whippersnapper having the audacity to look all new and different.

Not to mention, Monotype Corsiva has vanished from the face of the earth.  Open Office hasn't got it.  The new trial version of Word hasn't got it.  The starter version of Word hasn't got it.  And I refuse to cough up hundreds of dollars for a software package I'll only use the word processor and occasional spreadsheet on.  So I spent an outrageous amount of time last night trying to figure out another way to get my favorite font, only to admit defeat in the end.

And the Windows Media Player graphic equalizer has odd ideas about how it should deal with my music.

And then I had to spend hours fixing the fonts in my writing journal, which is up to nearly 800 pages.  Can't just do a simple highlight-and-change-all because I use a variety of fonts to draw attention to various bits.  Note to Microsoft et al: stop getting rid of fucking fonts.

So I hauled me arse in to work after a measly three and a half hours of sleep still hating life, the universe, and everything.  I dragged the computer along.  I neglected my in-between-call reading in order to load shit from the external hard drive and start mucking about.  I figured out how various bits worked.  I got shit loaded and arranged.  I discovered new and interesting bits.  I got used to the way it works, and started enjoying some of the newfangled features.

I discovered the Beats Audio equalizer. Holy fucking shit.  I am sitting here right now listening to Lesiem through my Sennheiser headphones, and I can hear bass.  ZOMG WTF?!  This, my friends, is what happens when you get a powerful sound card.  Still needs some tweaking, but mother of god, this is amazing.

There's still kinks to work out.  Some genius of a designer decided that a laptop could have a bulgy battery, which means there's a weird ridge digging dimples into my knees.  I need a right-angle adapter for the headphones, because the only jacks are on the side, and the computer's already almost as wide as my chair - tack on the three-inch jack, and you've got issues.  I'm still trying to figure out how to sit comfortably with it - the fit's quite different from the old one.  The screen needs manipulating before the color's true.  But those are minor things.

And now that I've got the sound and word processing mostly sorted, I'm just a little bit in love.  I'll even learn to love that battery pack.  We're on battery right now.  We have been for hours, and it's got hours more left in it.  Damned thing certainly provides the juice.  Once I have one of those laptop desk thingies to keep it from dimpling my knees, we should get along fine.

And the screen's big enough that I can set it on the recliner's footrest and still read it.  I shall have to investigate the possibility of a wireless keyboard so I can really get comfy.

So, upshot: I'm finally on a modern machine.  My, how things have changed.  And let this serve as fair warning: I might gush about it occasionally.  But right at the moment, I'm gonna go put it to work writing a novel, baby, yeah!

The World Is Weird

Check out what I came across whilst pulling images off of Google for the valley I'm working on:

Blood Falls

So at first, I was like, "Is that some sort of dye experiment gone horribly awry?"  But no.  It turns out to be something quite different and altogether natural, no matter how unnatural it looks:

The Taylor Glacier is unique among the Dry Valley glaciers in that the presence of subglacial brine near its terminus results in geomorphic behavior more like that of a temperate or polythermal glacier. Ice-penetrating-radar data indicate water or slush below the glacier corresponding to an 80-m depression in the bedrock topology at ~4km up-glacier from the terminus. This depression is below sea level and forms what is believed to have been a third lobe of Lake Bonney. When the chemically reduced subglacial brine flows from below the glacier and is exposed to the atmosphere, it becomes oxidized and a red salt cone, known as Blood Falls, precipitates at the northern end of the glacier terminus.

Sometimes, I get the impression that no matter what weird, wacky shit I attempt to invent, the world's gonna clear it's throat at every turn and say, "Been there, done that."  At least I'm not ashamed to admit that the vast majority of "unique" stuff I'm writing about will have been filched from the real, live, complex and delightfully bizarre universe around us.

Sit and Watch the Sunset

It's Monday.  Moreover, it's the Monday after a holiday.  I know all you all need a little something beautiful right now, so go over and watch the sunset at Suzanne's:

That's just the first of many gorgeous images.  Go on.  Go enjoy.  You've earned a beauty break.

Los Links

Bored on a holiday weekend, are ye?  Had your fill of turkey, football, annoying relatives, Black Friday, all that rot?  Well, that's good, because I've got lots o' interesting links I've been meaning to do something about but never managed to get round to blogging.

Pour yourselves a glass of something tasty and hopefully strong, and nibble away at some delights, my darlings.

The "Lost Women": science popularizers and communicators of the 19th century:  We sometimes forget that, even in the days when women were pretty much third-class citizens, a few of them broke out of the barefoot and pregnant mold and managed to make some impressive, not to mention important, contributions to science.  Here's a start on remembering them.  And, in case that wasn't enough for ye, here's my paean to a few of the Unsung Women of Science.

For those who might've missed it the first, second, and ten billionth time this got handed round the geoblogosphere, Ole Nielsen has an excellent explanation of How Drumlins Form.

And while we're on about glaciers, might as well go From end to end: Traversing the Terminal Lines of Long Island.  

Hannah Waters has the definitive post on Developing a scientific worldview: why it’s hard and what we can do.

Remember when we were all supposed to have flying cars?  How about this instead: Trees Infused With Glowing Nanoparticles Could Replace Streetlights.  Pretty damned awesome.

Here's an excellent read for anyone who loves reading, writing, or understanding how the brain works: This Is Your Brain on Metaphors. 

And, finally, Orac's got a thought provoking (and snarky) post up: So Al Gore didn't invent global warming? Who knew?

That should keep you busy enough.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch every single Harry Potter movie filmed to date because that's the sort of idiotic thing a writer does when they're blocked...

Scenes from the Frozen Life

There's been this fly on the porch since the storm started.  He appears to be frozen in place, but he's been veeerrryyy slowly crawling up the side of the post.  He's moved about three or four inches in two days.

Just cuz, I decided to take pictures and foist them upon you:

And a side view, just cuz:

I've been tempted to bring him inside, but I'm afraid a quick thaw will kill him.

Tonight, I managed to capture the raccoon.  Not well, due to lighting conditions (i.e., none), but I got 'im:

Still no idea what he's finding out there, but he's been back at least twice so far, so it must be good.

No turkeys to offer, alas.  But I'm sure by the end of tomorrow, you'll have seen quite enough of those anyway.

Happy night-before-Thanksgiving, everybody!

Frozen Hydrology on My Geology

Three words: butt-ass freezing cold.

Seattle's not equipped for this Arctic air shit.  Inch or so of snow and ice, and the entire city shuts down.  Having already been in one car accident this year, I decided to forgo a second.  The car stayed home, and I hoofed it to work.  At least the sun was shining, although it was too fucking cold for the birds to sing.  A coworker mercifully dropped me at home tonight, where I promptly immersed myself in a tub of hot water until all the bits thawed.

Yesterday, the cat and I lounged around inside and watched it snow.  Well, I watched it snow - she watched the crows playing in it and developed aspirations of becoming an apex predator:

More Seattle snow scenes after the fold, including what the weather's done to my balcony-crops.

Sending You Elsewhere

You know how I thought I'd have Written in Stone read in two nights?  Make that three.  Books with actual, real-life science content take longer to read than novels.  Whodathunkit?

So I'm sending you away.  Lockwood, for instance, has a magnificent post up on coffee, trees and rocks, which includes a glorious photo of a gingko clothed in fall color.  And he shows you how to get your nerd on in plywood.  And then you really must make it by Silver Fox's place, where gorgeous photos illustrate the difficulties of mapping in the wintertime (and yes, dear non-desert readers, our high deserts get quite a lot of snow, believe it or - well, you'll have no choice but believe it after you've seen Silver's shots).

Need something to vent at?  Something to really get your dander up?  Cujo's got two: an outrageously funny spanking of AFA's Bryan "If You Didn't Kill A Bunch of People, It's Not Worth a Medal of Honor" Fischer, and a post dissecting the idiocy of the Air Force vis a vis the Military Religious Freedom Foundation.  Still not done?  In case you missed it at PZ's place, read Johann Hari's takedown of kosher and halal slaughter.  This, dear Mr. Jeff "Atheists Are Scaring Religious People Away From Skepticism!" Wagg, is exactly why religious claims cannot be shielded from skeptical scrutiny.  To take religious claims on faith just cuz their religious ain't just bad skepticism, it's aiding and abetting torture.  Oh, and the next time somebody tries to tell me how meek and mild religion is, I'm going to duct tape them to a chair and force them to read Jerry Coyne's post on visiting the Palace of the Inquisition (warning: do not read before/during/after any meal).

There.  That should keep you busy whilst I read.  Worthy posts, all, and just what one needs on a cold winter's night.

Well, those, and the video Lockwood put up on Twitter:



Oh, that takes me back to my Flagstaff days!  My roomie and I used to sit out on our porch on snowy evenings and watch the cars slide down the hill, occasionally placing small bets on just how spectacularly a particular - ah, how shall I say this kindly, um - risk-assessment deficient driver would bite it. 

How I miss those days!  Aside from the snow and ice, o' course.

Insert Clever Post Title Here

Sorry.  My darling Aunty Flow finally showed up.  Wetware nonfunctional.  But I couldn't let Halloween end without posting Brian Switek's awesome cat-o-lantern:

Love it!  Of course, it's got stiff competition from Silver Fox's Jack-o-Breccia.  If you haven't seen Jack yet, you really must go say hi.  Bonus: considering what he's made of, the neighborhood hooligans might hurt themselves should they try to smash him.  My kind o' jack!

For those who've been waiting patiently all month, Accretionary Wedge #28's up at Matt's place.  It's all tricked out, too - nice Halloween touch, there.

Hopefully, in the next day or so, I can show you what I did with my Halloween before Aunty got nasty.  I'm pretty sure I've got permission to post the photos, but everyone was rushed and so I don't want to put anything definitive up until I'm sure I didn't shoot something that shouldn't have been shot.  We were testing the camera in low-light stage conditions, y'see.  Some of them came out brilliantly.  It'll make you want to go see the musical, only you can't, because it was the last show.  But there's more where that comes from, and I might even have sneak peeks, and those of you who don't live in Seattle will end up wishing you did.

Best thing about today: giving my intrepid companion his All Hallow's Read.  He's always doing superbly thoughtful things for me, rescuing me from computer ruin, chauffeuring me around whilst I car shop - it was nice to finally take him by surprise with a little something.  (Why Buildings Fall Down, in case you were wondering - All Hallow's Read's about giving a scary book, and, well, that's grownup scary and interesting.)  Five minutes in a bookstore, people.  That's all it takes to make someone happy - as long as you go in having a good idea what they might like.  Next Halloween, give your own intrepid companions the gift of a scary book they don't expect.

Next best thing about today: watching Jesus hand out communion wafers while saying, "Body of me."  Awesome!

And you, my darlings - what did you do to celebrate the best holiday of the year?

Some Things of Especial Note

Whilst you're waiting for me to get my arse in gear on the whole Discovery Park geo thing, here's some lively links to keep you busy.

Callan Bentley's moving!  He'll be joining the new American Geophysical Union's new blog consortium by the end of the month, so watch his space for directions to the new digs.  Congratulations, Callan!

(Ye gods - will we all be assimilated into networks?!)

Our own George W. has a fascinating post up on the powers of 10.  My mind, it is blown!

Marcelo Gleiser explains why science matters.  If you missed it the first few times it made the rounds, don't dare miss it now.

Carl Zimmer explores where e-Book publishing might take us.  Those who believe writing and reading are dead, take heart!

And (dum-DUM-dum!) Readers Beware!  Which says everything that needs to be said to arrogant asscrunches who think bloggers are unwashed, untrustworthy little pissants sullying the fine reputation of journalism.

Memories

Over at Glacial Till, Ryan has a post up sparkling with excitement - his first trip up Mt. Hood, y'see.  Read it if you haven't.  His enthusiasm's contagious, and we can all use some of that.

Sparked some memories, that, and a few realizations.  This threw me a bit:

Nor was I prepared for the decreased amount of oxygen available at 6000 ft above sea level. However, I survived the altitude sickness with nothing worse than a slight head ache. Not bad for my first time at that altitude outside of an airplane.

We're surrounded by mountains that soar into the 14,000 ft range round here, so it's easy to forget we actually live closer to sea level.  Where I live in the Seattle metro area, for instance, doesn't get much above 300 ft.  But I'm surrounded by hills, so it feels higher.

I grew up at high altitude.  The lowest elevation I saw in my young years was 4,000 ft, and I didn't live below 1200 until I moved from Arizona.  I still have trouble remembering I don't need to follow the high altitude directions when cooking.  My mind will always be somewhere up there.

And when I think of high altitude, one memory comes to mind.

Cleaning and Creativity

Cleaning day is a very dangerous day.

After taking Silmë for a walk (okay, drive), during which I picked up business cards from my favorite dealer and got reassured I'd made an excellent car-buying choice, I decided it's time to excavate the house.  And yes, I do mean excavate.  Part of this enterprise involved vacuuming.  My vacuum cleaner didn't survive the experience.  I've known for a while the ol' motor wasn't what it used to be, and today, it told me to fuck off while it died.  Well, at least it did that after I'd finished the carpets.  It's been a good and loyal vacuum for a good many years, and it was just its time.

Then I had to iron my curtains, because when I washed them, they got all wonky.  One looked much longer than the other.  This wasn't right.

So I've been off the intertoobz for a good proportion of the day, and right now all I want to do is put my bed back together and stay in it for a few days.  But there's an interesting post I felt it necessary to highlight: "How to Trick Yourself Creative."  It seems people actually study this stuff, and here are some conclusions:

However, in terms of the science, here's what I can offer:

• Longer periods of preparation beget longer periods of incubation;
• When solving linguistic problems (making sense of a given set of information) engaging in tasks with a low cognitive demand is most effective in generating insight during incubation;
  High congitive demand tasks during incubation are not facilitative;
• When solving creative problems, it seems engaging in a wide information search (during incubation) is most effective; and
• When a problem has a limited set of solutions, information search may not be facilitative; Incubation most benefits 'divergent thinking'*, followed by linguistic tasks, followed by visual tasks (like mental rotations)

So I do not want to hear a single fucking snarky comment the next time I am blocked and doing things like building Japanese villages out of toothpicks instead of writing.  That falls under the "tasks with a low cognitive demand" category, m'kay?  And if anybody gives me shit over those endless rambles through Google and reference books, I shall hit them over the head with a rolled-up copy of the above post.  Fair warning.

I'm turning the floor over to you, my darlings.  What do you do when your creativity needs a good boost?

I Miss My Spider

A few weeks ago, a spider came to live on my porch.  It built large and beautiful webs, taking advantage of the porch rail and rafters.  When it rained, the web collected raindrops and became something enchanting:

When it stopped raining, the silvery web against the dark green trees shone as if hundreds of diamonds had flown into it and gotten stuck:

(Arachnophobes: do not go below the fold.)

Food for Thought, Food for Disgust

First, the food for thought - a long but interesting post regarding the utility (or not) of religion in society.  Geez, that sounded stodgy.  Let's try "Celebrity Death Match between Philip Kitcher and Daniel Dennett!!1!11!"

There.  Now, doesn't that sound intriguing?

And here's the food for disgust:

In a Rage Reduction therapy session, a child is restrained by a therapist – usually a licensed psychologist or social worker – plus one or more assistants. The therapist “activates” a child by yelling, belittling, threatening, relentlessly tickling, bouncing the child’s head, covering his mouth, and painfully knuckling the child’s rib cage and sternum. Such sessions typically go on for two or more hours, until the child is exhausted from struggling and becomes, as one psychologist observed, “a whimpering little puddle.” Children, even teenagers, are then swaddled and given a baby bottle by their adopted mother for “bonding time.”

Can you believe this stupid fucking shit is still done to children?  If you want to get your own rage on, read that whole post.

And a special bonus: if you want to twist any noses today, why not ask a Teabagger why they hate puppies?

In Which I Name My Car

Yeah, so, I'd planned to return to the regular weekday political blogging, maybe put a little something up on science, get back into the flow.  But it took me over an hour to get to work today.  Had to drive the car around looking for an emergency kit for it, right?  And then there was the obligatory drive down Forbes Creek.

After work, it took me two hours to get back home, going by way of Monroe and Gold Bar, whilst Sean and I listened to Epica and yakked about The Ghosts of Cars Past, zombie apocalypses, and other such subjects.

And I could've caught up on some political reading between calls at work, but I spent most of my time today browsing steering wheel covers on Amazon and hitting up teh Google for Elvish sites.

You see, I'd decided last night, as I lay abed, that this car needed a name that reflected my Lord of the Rings obsession.  I'd been thinking of her as Silver - not simply because of the color, but because of a line in a Kamelot song: "Shine on silver / From the sky into the night / Gaia shivers / And I need your leading light."  So, what the hell?  Why not the Elvish word for "silver"?

Because it's celeb, that's why.   So what if it's pronounced "kay-leb" - it still looks like something out of a star stalker magazine.  Poor Professor Tolkien.  He couldn't have foreseen that indignity to his beautiful language.

Wordlist after wordlist finally led me to the right name: Silmë (seel-may).  Oh, you may laugh.  Go right ahead.  But here's why: it means "starlight," and is also the poetic word for "silver" in the Quenya (ancient Elvish) tongue.  It satisfies my desire for a name meaning "silver" in one of Tolkien's languages.  So there we are.  Silmë. 

That's her name. 

Now if only they made LOTR steering wheel covers...

She's My Girl

And I love her:

(Click for clearer image.  Don't ask me why Blogger's suddenly decided to display sub-par crap in the post proper.)

Credits:

Toyota of Kirkland ensured I got the car I wanted at the price I wanted.  Barry Glenn, my outstanding State Farm agent, made sure financing was available and, as always, did a brilliant job setting me up with the right policy.  Chris saw to it that I had the right info.  And, vitally, my intrepid companion chauffeured me around and waited in dealerships without complaint. Thanks, guys!

Apologies to my favorite dealer.  I wanted to buy a car from him.  He didn't have this car.  But if any of you are in the market for an extremely sweet Nissan Sentra SE-R Spec V, or indeed a Hyundai of any description, call Hyundai of Seattle and ask for Peter.  You'll not only get an excellent car, you'll get some of the best customer service in the industry at a price that will leave you very pleased indeed.

Regular blogging will resume tomorrow night.  But don't be surprised if there's the occasional gush over how amazed I am that I own a car this sweet.  ;-)

Car Shopping Day is a Very Dangerous Day II

Always take your test drive on a long and winding road, preferably with hills, so you can truly get a feel for the car.  This is something I learned today, and it has led to the new car being knocked from the short list.  Its performance was okay, but failed to knock my socks off.  Besides, it didn't have any air conditioning.  When a car's going to end up traveling to Arizona, this is a serious drawback.

If I'd had the money for a higher-end model, circumstances would probably be otherwise.  That manufacturer is making some sweet machines.


I shan't be getting a brand new Nissan, as the dealership is asking prices that made me laugh.  They also played the "let me talk to the sales manager" gambit, which doesn't go over well with me.

So it's down to a celebrity death match between the Nissan Sentra SE-R Spec V being sold by my favorite dealer, and the Honda Civic LX-S being sold by the other guys.  I wish the Civic was at my favorite dealer's lot.  Sigh.  But I suppose my choice will depend on how I feel in the morning.  My intrepid companion came along for the day's car shopping adventures, and likes the Sentra quite a lot.  Lumbar support, you see.

Yes, in a Sentra.  This is one that had upgrades.  Many.  Upgrades.  One of which would be getting torn out of the trunk at my earliest convenience if I buy that car - what the fuck do I need a subwoofer for?  We'd be keeping the moon roof and the superb

Either way, my decision shall be made tomorrow.  And you lot won't have to suffer me babbling about this experience any longer.

Chris shall probably groan when he learns I'm buying one of the used cars on his "don't buy used if you can help it" list, but financial circumstances mean I either go used, go without, or go with a car I'm not thrilled by.  Considering how long I intend to keep this vehicle, I need to be thrilled.  Possibly even ecstatic.

We'll just see how thrilled the guys with the Civic are when I tell them how much I want to pay for it.  Hee.