...And now it's my turn...

So, apparently my body has been waiting for me to get to my vacation before it let go and finally got sick. Because yesterday marked the start of my week-and-a-day off, and at four in the morning this morning... well, it was pretty grim. And then it was equally grim in a completely different way at about eight o'clock. And then I went back to sleep - sick and dehydrated, no less - until about eleven fifteen.

Remember last Thursday, when I was complaining about being inspired by a new story idea because it meant that everything else would promptly fall on my head? Well, there you go.

On a related note: I have weird, weird dreams when I'm really sick. The ones from this morning involved being trapped in an unstable, partly-collapsed, and partly-collapsing old mine complex. And in those brief moments when I sort-of woke up, I was so far gone that I wasn't sure where I was. I mean usually, I know which bed I'm in... and what direction I'm facing... and whether I'm lying face-up or face-down. This time? Not so much.

But I'm up, and I'm going to sit in a hot bath and read, and try to drink liquids (and hope that doesn't court any new disasters). Hopefully I'm now past the worst of this.

A Pony For Her Birthday, Iteration 1

Samantha Woodman held the phone to her ear and listened to it ring. It picked up on the fourth ring, and the familiar voice of her ex-husband's lab assistant said, "Savage Inventions, what can we make possible for you?"

Sam shook her head. It wasn't even dawn yet, and they were already at work. "Hi, Pete," she said. "Can you put Max on for me?"

"Oh, hi Mrs-- Miss Samantha. Sure, I'll get him. Hang on a sec."

There was a brief pause, and then her husband picked up the phone. "Samantha," he said by way of greeting. "May I assume that Stacy's present has arrived?"

Samantha paused, her suspicions confirmed. "Why don't I tell you about my morning, and you can tell me what happened?"

"Sam--" Maximilian Savage paused, then apparently reconsidered whatever protest he had been about to make. "Go ahead."

"To start with, there was this godawful shrieking right outside my window. That was what woke me up. By the time I fought my way out from under the covers, it was fading back down to nothing -- but by then I could hear Stacy, crying and screaming outside my window."

"Is she...?"

"She's fine, Max. Just upset. So I ran outside, and found her sitting on the ground beside a giant wooden crate. I tried to ask her what was wrong, and she just says that her pony flew away. Any of this sound familiar?"

"It does."

"Humor me and explain."

"Well..." Max's voice turned distant as he considered. "Stacy asked for a pony for her birthday. I arranged to have it delivered last night, as a surprise."

"...And she woke up very early, and went outside and found it." Samantha took a deep breath, and reminded herself to be patient. "I got that part. How did a pony manage to fly away from my parents' ranch?"

"Jet engines, of course." Max sounded impatient, as if he thought this should be perfectly obvious. He probably did. "The wings are cybernetic, but even so it takes more than wingspan to get something size of a pony off the ground."

"Wings," repeated Samantha. She shouldn't be surprised; she'd known what Maximilian was when she divorced him. "You gave our daughter a pony with jet engines and wings."

"Impressive, isn't it?" He sounded pleased. "Actually, getting the horn to shoot rainbows was more of a challenge."

"Rainbows?" Samantha echoed dubiously.

"Don't worry. The default setting is non-destructive."

Samantha decided to ignore that. "Our daughter just finished first grade. She isn't ready for a driver's license, let alone a pilot's license. And even if she were, I am not ready to have our daughter flying around on her own."

There was a long silence.

"...Very well," Max said stiffly. "I have an earlier iteration, non-flying, that I can send in its place. And I'll dispatch... something... to make certain that the original pony does not return on her own. Will that satisfy you?"

"Yes, Max. Thank you, Max." Samantha took a deep breath. "That will do very nicely."

Then she hung up the phone, knowing full well that the day's excitement wasn't over yet.

Proceed to Iteration 2...

Spiritual Awakening

I achieved enlightenment yesterday.

No, really.

I was helping someone with a computer problem, and the user asked something so completely stupid - how to press the Any Key, or something, I don't even remember - that my mind just snapped. Suddenly I lost all sense of self; for the first time, I truly and fully understood the futility of striving. My mind opened, and it was like a great rush of fire and water, everywhere. This tremendous, deep sense of peace settled over me, and I became aware that I was a part of all living things.

...Except ragweed.

Ragweed... is not my friend.

And apparently I can't be at one with a Universe that contains ragweed, because all of a sudden I was back in my body: trapped once again in the illusion of Self. And sneezing. A lot. My eyes were watering so badly that I could barely find the Benadryl.

The experience wasn't a total loss, though. I mean, now I know exactly what is holding us back: it's ragweed. Ragweed is the enemy of human advancement.

So join me, friends. Let the Great Crusade begin today. Together, we will wipe ragweed from the face of the Earth - Ahrimsa be damned - and open the way to a new age of peace and enlightenment for all humanity!

Notes from the Mad Science Lab: Electric Octogator

The response to last year's offering of Home Defense Systems was truly gratifying. Sales were solid, and only a handful of buyers contacted us with complaints about our products. However, one additional request did come up with surprising frequency: apparently we overlooked the vital importance of water-based defenses.

You would not believe the number of responses we received on this topic. Let me read from my favorite: "Dear sirs: carnivorous shrubberies are all well and good, but how is a privacy-oriented individual supposed to keep intruders out of the waters around his uncharted island in the South Pacific? Provide me a product that can manage that, and I will guarantee you an immediate sale."

Very well, Grand High General Moore. Your wishes are heard and understood - and now, at last, they are answered. I present to you the Electric Octogator: a devastatingly efficient anti-intrusion measure which requires no maintenance and very little supervision. Though they rest on land, octogators are tremendously fast in the water, and they are instinctively drawn to movement and noise. Once awakened, they are ravenously hungry, strong enough to lift a grown man into the air with their tentacles, and capable of delivering a bio-electric shock twice as strong as any taser currently available on the market. Their jaws can chew through a fiberglass hull in minutes, and they are unbelievably tenacious.

As a failsafe, each electric octogator comes equipped with a small implant which can alternately slow its metabolism (effectively putting it back to sleep), stimulate the beast's pain center, or (as a last resort) release a lethal dose of neurotoxin directly into its brain. These features can be activated using a small radio transmitter; for a small additional fee, we can also install a cellular connection which links to a dedicated iPhone app.

So you see, we here at the Mad Science Consortium are always attentive to the needs of our customers. We welcome your feedback, and look forward to supplying all your security needs. Don't forget, we're also having a clearance on exploding sunflowers through the end of October. Place your order today!

Cheerier Parenting Stuff

Here's a pic of the two boys in a tree. Yes, the two-year-old climbed up there all by himself. This is from, I don't know, a couple of weeks back.

I just thought it would be a nice break from talking about illness, exhaustion, and the unbearable grossness of being.

Fun New Game: Musical Diseases!

So, as of this afternoon, Secondborn is officially sick with whatever Firstborn had late last week - which has been both unpleasant and extremely messy. Which means that the tummy problems that Secondborn had earlier (a week before Firstborn came down with this) were something else entirely. Either that, or they're now passing their diseases back and forth.

The Beautiful Wife insists that we're actually all sick with more than one thing, which certainly seems possible. I seem to have the lightest case of it it/them, but that probably just means that the other shoe hasn't dropped on me yet.



One of the problems with being sick is that it makes it ever so much easier to get infected with new things. And once that cycle gets started, it's really hard to break. On the plus side, if we we can just manage to get everyone healthy, we'll probably be okay for a while.

So, my project for this evening is to cleanse our house. With bleach. Or fire. Or bleach that's been set on fire. Actually, that sounds pretty good. Burning bleach: because some days, over-the-counter disinfectants just don't cut it. Why the hell doesn't Target carry that?

Anyway... lots of cleaning. A lot of baths. Lots of laundry. Nowhere near as much sleep as I'd like.

...And, a small boy who just started whining again, because even though he's completely exhausted and more or less asleep, he's also very thirsty.

* * *
Well, that went just about exactly the way I expected. Remember, friends:

"Greater love hath no man than this, that he let himself be covered in the foulness expelled by his offspring." (John 15:13, Revised Parenting Edition)

Yuck.

Harduk The Slayer and the Forest of Doom

An hour later, Harduk crouched in the brush beside a massive tree. A stone's throw away, a wild boar drank at the edge of a narrow stream. Here was water, and proper food; not like the tribbil-fruit he had found earlier. Though considered a delicacy in the nighted city of Ordur, tribbil-fruit was neither large nor filling, and Harduk's belly cried out for something more solid. Could he but catch it, the boar would do nicely.

Drawing his great blade, Harduk considered the tree beside him. Then, with a single blow, he hewed through the trunk. No narrow sapling, this; it was one of the elders of this jungle, grown tall and strong with the passage of centuries. It was no match for the keen edge of Harduk’s blade, however, for Harduk carried Frostblight, the Sword of Chiefs, which was said to hold the battle-rage and bloodlust of all Distractia.

The great tree shivered with the blow, and the boar started. Then the tree creaked and began to fall, and the boar froze in panic at the growing roar of collapsing greenery. Harduk nodded in satisfaction as the ancient trunk dropped squarely onto his prey. The thunder of its impact shook the forest, silencing bird and beast alike for as far as the ear could hear.

The boar, he thought, was now as flat as the wrapping-breads in the marketplaces of the distant city of Schaterdore, where his people sometimes went to trade, when they weren't trying to attack, burn, and loot the place. He needed only to remove the tree and prepare a fire, and he would have his meal.