June 8th, 2005


Pork Wings (Yes, Really. Only in Texas)

Dude, pigs will fly before I'll eat pork wings.

Sorry. Saw this as a food item on the cafeteria menu and just had to say it.

Writing: I'm continuing to work on the violin story. *sigh* I wanted this to be a story about Seth, but I have a feeling it's going to turn into a story about his mother--which is not really the story I want to write. I want to write about how Seth deals with his mother's drug problem, but the story feels like it wants to be about how the mother overcomes her drug problem. Gah. As if she's going to overcome the drug addiction she's had for years in my little story. Uh-huh.

Then there are the logic questions to deal with. Both of Seth's parents come from relatively wealthy families, yet Seth is living with a foster family, because Mom's parents pretty much kicked her out, and Seth's father's parents essentially told his father, "If you marry that girl you're insane, and you know we're not exaggerating." Even Paul had to admit that they were right. So why doesn't either set of grandparents or at least Paul have custody of Seth? They do care.

I need for him to live with a foster family because, if he lives with a family that is well-off, getting him a replacement violin--should he give up the one his mother gave him--would be no financial hardship. With a foster family, giving up his instrument would be a considerable financial hardship and thus gives Seth all the more reason to not give up the violin without a fight.

I suppose I could postulate that all four of Seth's grandparents are dead, and the reason Paul hasn't married Mom is because of her drug problem--even love has its limits, I should think. I don't think it's reasonable to expect a man--however much in love he is and however responsible he feels toward his son--to be obligated to marry a woman who is a dedicated drug addict, one who has spent time in prison and who has been in and out of drug rehab numerous times.

Fortunately, everything is still in flux at this point. Maybe the mother's drug problem isn't as severe as I've painted it. I'll have to keep working this out. I need to figure out what the real story is, not just the story I think I intend to tell.

New Bach Composition Found

The story is here. It's a two-page aria written in 1713. Wow!

Computer Stuff: I consulted with Mark about our problem copying graphics, and he thinks it might be Netscape weirdness, an error in the download feature. We're going to order Netscape 8.0 and see if installing that fixes the problem. Apparently, upgrading to 7.1 from 7.0 fixed it, last time.

The Guide Dog Says:
(Conversation between me and a co-worker)

Co-Worker to her guide dog: "Hurry, hurry! Don't stop at the desk, girl; I'm late!"
Me, speaking for her dog: "What is this 'late?' I don't understand the concept. I say, before me: Early. After me: Late."
Co-Worker: "We'll discuss this tomorrow!"

Coke: Regular Lime Coke is gooood.
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