Invasion

After living in a basement apartment in SE Idaho for three years, I'm accustomed to the habits and evil of hobos (the spider, not the homeless person).

I've been attacked in the shower, whilst covered in soap and unable to defend myself. While lying in bed from a suicidal hobo on a mission. While in a seated, compromising position (it's hard to scrabble away screaming when your pants are around your ankles). They've come out of drawers, shampoo bottles, boxes of toiletries, and from underneath my sink. They're evil.

I thought I was safe by moving to Reno, out of hobo territory yet still far enough north to avoid the more terrifying desert bugs.

I was wrong.

Horribly, horribly wrong.


Two weeks ago, I walked into my room and saw a gigantic fuzzy blob lurking near the window. Radiating malevolence. I ran to get my glasses to see what the hell it was. It remained fuzzy. I should have known all that was about to befall at this point, but alas, I am only human. I called Dan into the room to get his opinion. He started shrieking. I started shrieking.

It was not my proudest moment.

You see, I am conditioned to fight eight legged things. I see a giant fuzzy blob, I see eight legs, I leap into action with the hobo killing book. I'm good at it. The hobos and I had an understanding. This had . . . rather more than eight legs. Plethora is a good word to describe the horror.

Dan ran for the first weapon he could find, which happened to be a hiking boot. This was a poor choice. You see, when you're confronted with the very face of Satan on Earth, you want a wide flat surface with plenty of crushing power. Not a surface layered with crevices that the vital portions of the centipede can hide in. Dan dealt the fiend a mighty blow that would have destroyed the most stalwart of hobos. I was yelling encouragement along the lines of "Oh, oh GOD, WHY IS THAT IN MY HOUSE."

The centipede got stuck in the crevice.

Then the hell monster was forced out of the crevice on the upswing. (damn you physics, you betray me yet again)

Enter five minutes of shrieking and running around until we spotted it on the windowsill. Dan slammed the window down, and we thought we were safe.

It took a stiff drink for me to have the courage to open the window and take this picture.

Until the centipede's family came back for revenge.

The kitchen, two nights later: Centipede runs from under the dishwasher, up Dan's leg, then back under the oven. Mocking our helplessness in the face of its unholy terror. The day after that: Dan is perched on the floor playing video games. He starts flailing and jumps up - to have a centipede fall from his shorts.


I am losing my mind. Two weeks of leaping up every time I feel the slightest brush on a leg or arm to do a full body patdown. Two weeks of poking potential hiding places with my sword before picking them up. Two weeks of giving every structure in a room the stare when I walk in. You know the one - left over from our days spent slightly lower on the food chain. The one where you seek out any possible threat while poised to run.

My plan of keeping all doors and windows closed seems to have been working. I haven't seen one for a few days now. But I know they're there.

Waiting.

Watching.

Plotting.

July Books

Or, what I read when I'm not forced to pour over guidelines and studies.

In an absolutely shameless theft of idea and execution from the lovely Sarah, I'm going to do a quick review of the books I read during July. The amount of free time I have right now is shocking, really.

Salt, by Maurice Gee. Dystopian YA. Hari's father is press-ganged into working in Deep Salt, a mine harvesting mysterious materials that no one returns from. He sets off to rescue him. The writing in this was . . . odd, but the world building was interesting. First in a trilogy.



A Murderous Procession, by Ariana Franklin. Historical Mystery. Adelia returns as the forensic specialist in Henry II's England, this time sent as a physician on a political mission back to her home country. I'm usually not a fan of mysteries, but this series is entertaining and the setting well chosen. There's a satisfying lack of anachronisms and while the attitudes of certain characters seem suspiciously progressive, overall it's believable.

Death and the Librarian and Other Stories, by Esther Friesner. Short Story Collection. I was not a fan of this one. 'A Birthday' and 'A Pig's Tale' were interesting, but did not make up for the rest of it. The writing was awkward and filled with characters with heavy accents. A frustrating read.

Uglies, by Scott Westerfield. Dystopian YA. Tally is waiting until the day she can have plastic surgery to become a Pretty, like everyone else in society, but ends up tangled with a group of people living outside the city and control of the government. This was an interesting premise, but the main character was frustrating. First in a trilogy.

Pretties, by Scott Westerfield. Dystopian YA. Having given herself over to the officials at the end of the first book, Tally is now a Pretty. She's forgotten most of the events of the first book and is content to live a life of endless entertainment - until she's reminded of the reason she returned. The slang in this book was *obnoxious*. The society continues to be an interesting idea, but the main character is not much more likeable here than in the first one. Second in a trilogy.

Wizards at War, by Diane Duane. Fantasy YA. Older wizards are losing their powers and memories, and it's up to the younger generation to find out why and confront the Lone Power yet again. This is 8th in a series, one I've liked for a long time. The magic is systematic and scientific, a refreshing change from most books dealing with the subject. The writing is engaging and the world building, as usual, is well done.


My brilliant plan is to emulate Sarah's fabulous blog and do one of these posts every month. A fabulous aunt of mine decided to start a book club on facebook, so hopefully I'll get some good reads from that.

Now I should probably go study. Bleh.

An Ill-Fated Accordion

This was going to be a video of me playing Spanish Ladies on my lovely accordion Benvolio. (Yes. It's Italian, he was Italian . . . close enough)

I've spent a few weeks practicing and figuring out good basal chords from the melody, and it was actually sounding decent. Until I tried recording the video.

You see, accordions work by forcing air over metal or wooden reeds when the bellows are moved. Pushing the buttons changes which reeds are open to create the chords. Loose reeds = open all of the time = horrible noises.

Benvolio has a loose reed. Benvolio chose to reveal this to me while I was recording.

This means that my accordion does not sound like this. (start at 0:50)

Not that I can play like this, but you get the idea

My accordion sounds like the noises you'd expect from an injured cat determined to kill as many as possible while raging against the dying of the light. That may be closer to my actual skill level than the lovely music above - but it makes for difficult practicing. At this point, the soonest I can get him fixed is mid-September. If I can get him on the plane back to Idaho.

Now I'll never get to be Lawrence Welk.

(In other news, I am destroying this infectious disease rotation and don't have to take the final. Muahahaha.)