November 26, 1997

I slept for about 12 hours Monday night, got interrupted after the first four by John coming home injured from his soccer game, so I got ice on his sprain, made dinner, ate dinner, and went back to sleep. By morning I felt a lot better. Enough to get to work and have a good time debugging things.

Been boringly busy with just work, work, work. Not really all that much interesting to tell, other than having fun talking things over with Genevieve about Faber and his origins and getting a good dose of Neil Gaimen's _Neverwhere_ last night. Carl Rigney had lent me the tapes of the TV program so John and I were watching that last night. So I had dreams of Seattle Below, where Reality was controlled through code, and we were having to debug reality.

Admittedly, I was debugging some real-time timing problems between our applications, as we have an asychronous communication system between various apps, so it's getting hairy in a lovely kinda way.

So my dreams included vending machines that carried an ice cream that was so utterly loaded with a certain kind of calorie that it was guarenteed to lose you weight because it was so loaded, it would kick any body into high gear just in fright from trying to deal with it and was effective enough at it that the simple mechanism of a human body trying to deal with that much input would actually lose the eater some weight. Unless you were so skinny that your body already worked at that level, then it might actually gain you a little weight.

It was a very interesting bunch of people in my dream as well, take any Microsoft Convention, add an SF Con's clothing and the images left over from _Neverwhere_ and it was quite the crew. Especially when the alarms sounded and there was a problem with a particular pointer list array and how the crews slipped in a dummy array entry for an entry that had gotten mangled, so that more skilled crews could suss out the problem, fix the entry and slide it back in before the process execution got to it. We watched the gradual progress of the pointer and sighed as we got the fixed entry back in, in time.

The night before it was a cooking convention. That was fun. Just wandering about and learning new techniques and listening to speakers and running around and cooking in a convention center that must have been in some California as it was all plate glass windows and steel, open areas for all the seminars. Most of the goers were in silk white suits, and one was the very dapper Michael Baker, a friend of John's and mine after working with him in a few places.

Odd dreams.

John and I are going to take the whole weekend off, so I might get a chance at 'normal' dreams before the month is done. Maybe.

We're throwing a huge kitchen-warming party on Saturday, so that should be fun, and we're likely going to go shopping tonight. I feel okay enough to think, but I'm still not breathing too well, so the better part of valore indicates that I should probably just stay off the playing field for another few days.

I'll likely write from home at least once during the weekend.

Spoke too soon, had Patrick wander into my office to petition me for help... so I'll likely play and John is even going to think about playing Keeper, even with his sprain. No running involved, but a lot of throwing ones body about... well, we'll see, and we'll have a grocery list for after the game that'll likely be staggering.

© 1997 by Liralen Li

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