But I forgot what it was. So, more icebox cake:
My dad is popping up for an impromptu visit this weekend. HOORAY!!! I cannot begin to explain in words how much I love my father. Anyone who has seen the two of us together will attest to the fact that I am essentially a clone of him, albeit with a significant chromosomal difference. Yes, yes, I understand the DNA similarities make me a sort of clone anyway… oh, forget it. Just know that, during an iChat discussion he and I had today regarding historically accurate use of typefaces, he took a moment to correct my use of “infer” when what I really meant was “imply.” Yeah, I think that sums it up rather neatly. As Mandy once put it, “Does the apple even fall from the tree?”
Anyone (Alison) worrying how this will effect my attendance at Gears, Grease and Guitars this weekend… it shouldn’t. I may be late, though.
This article about elevators is actually fascinating, but if you can’t bear to read all eight pages, then you owe it to yourself to at least watch the horrifying/compelling video. Which will only make you want to go back and read the article, so really, you may as well start there in the first place. My favorite excerpt:
… elevator manufacturers have sought to trick the passengers into thinking they’re driving the conveyance. In most elevators, at least in any built or installed since the early nineties, the door-close button doesn’t work. It is there mainly to make you think it works. (It does work if, say, a fireman needs to take control. But you need a key, and a fire, to do that.) Once you know this, it can be illuminating to watch people compulsively press the door-close button. That the door eventually closes reinforces their belief in the button’s power. It’s a little like prayer.
Until tomorrow, my children.