I haven't been reading very much lately.

Okay, not quite true. I haven't been reading very many technical books lately. I've been reading a lot of magazines, mostly to catch up with my two foot stack of unread magazines. Now that I'm mostly caught up with them (I have two non-programming, non-bead magazines to read to be caught up, which in my book is "mostly caught up").

The problem I have is, however, that I'm currently unable to read a technical book without wanting to take notes. "Oh," I think when I read these books, "I want to remember this, must write it down." Then I go off to find a pencil or computer, and invariably either decide the effort is too great, or become distracted with some other task, and don't return to the technical book I was reading. Taking notes helps me remember what I'm learning. It allows me to play with the knowledge, turn it over, pound on it, take it apart and see how it works. It's how I learn.

Recognizing the great, grand folly of not keeping up with technical fads and the language of the year or the acronym of the hour, I've decided that I will read at least two technical books a month, striving for four if possible. Recognizing also that this has to fit into the hour a day of exercise, personal blog a day, professional blog a day, letter to my children every two weeks, the magazine a day, the two dog walks a day, two home-cooked meals a day, and one good cuddle a day from the hubby schedule, too, I'll need to be agressive with my tasks.

No, I don't over schedule my life. Why do you ask?

The first book up is Bulletproof Web Designs by Dan Cederholm. Mike raved about it so much I bought my own copy. He wanted to buy a copy for our design partners (who we contract out for website designs), too. If he likes it this much, I should read it.

So, I did. And wrote up my notes.

In Indiana, visiting Dad before 37 Signals workshop on Friday: menstruation 1, migraine 1.

Is there ever a good time to get sick?

Two V, two tylenol, two advil and one mystery pill and I'm nearly functional.

Sigh.

Political blogging at the city level is not that exciting. The meetings are, to be sure, as exciting as watching paint dry.

No, scratch that. Paint is more exciting.

I arrived at the West Conference Room in the Council Chambers a few minutes early, and realized that, despite dressing business nice, the backpack on my shoulders took ten years off my age and no one here would probably notice me. Which is how I like it.

The session is a "study session" on the "General Plan of Industrial and Industrial to Residential Land Use." The "study" part of that session means someone stands in the front and gives a presentation.

I walked in, and, after confirming I was in the correct location, asked where is appropriate to sit. Unanimously, from the top council member to the city manager's assistant at the laptop, the answer was, "Not at the table." "The table is reserved for council members only." Granted, one council member explained if there were seats remaining after all the council members sat down, then I could sit at the table. The other two council members glared at him for the offer.

Early overheard conversation:

"I don't read the newspaper."

"Coward."

The meeting wasn't terribly exciting, but it was long: 7 until 9:30, and that was after the 5:30 to 7 "study meeting." One lady in the back row with Kris and me fell asleep, and started snoring. One guy was completely crazy and refused to stop talking, even to the point of yelling from the back of the auditorium. One school district representative spoke, and pretty much spun all his talk to make the school district look like the good guy, and everyone else look like the bad guy. We caught him in a couple of lies, in as much as we had direct dealings with him. I guess everyone lies, or exaggerates for effect. I just wasn't expecting it to be on public record.

I'm glad we went. Two of the city officials impressed us. The other ones seemed like completely disgusting, slimy politicians, holding the job for the personal power and recognition instead of for the public good. One council member tried to introduce legislation without any public input, while another council member stopped the proposal because of the lack of discussion or public input, even though he agreed with it. Kudos to him.

Not sure how much we'll go back to these council meetings, but I think I may go more often, working on my laptop during the topics I don't care about, and listening when I do care.

After making the door sign for work, I had a couple pieces of heavy duty, self-adhesive lamination left over. They were small pieces, maybe two or three inches in length tops.

As they were just sitting on my desk, I would regularly pick one or two of them up to play with them. I didn't remove the backs of them though, that would lose the stickiness.

Well, last night (this morning?) around 2:30 AM (you know, when I'm at my most alert and functioning self), I took the backing off one and started playing with it. As Kris came up behind me, glorious in his Axis and Allies win over the Germans, he asked what I had.

I turned, squishing my thumb on the sticky side of the laminate, and handed the laminate to him. "Here," I said, "your very own wife thumbprint to save forever."

"How's it look?" he asked, taking the square from me.

"Not so good." I replied. "It's all kinda fuzzy. Here," I continued, as I reached for the square, "how about a lip print?"

I pushed my lower lip onto the edge of the laminate and, as the sticky side touched skin, thought, "Uh oh."

What I was thinking up until that moment, what sort of brilliance was I demonstrating, I have no idea. Visions of A Christmas Story's kid with his tongue stuck to the winter flag pole danced in my head. Did I really think this heavy duty adhesive would release like wrapping tape? Was I destined to wait until my lip skin sloughed off before I could be plastic square free? Did I become an idiot when the clocks struck 2:00 AM? If so I needed to get to sleep now.

Without the adhesive square stuck to the bottom of my face.

"What are you doing?" Kris asked.

"Uh... trying to get this off?"

Apparently visions of tongues on frozen flag poles flashed through Kris's head, too, because he dissolved into guffaws of laughter.

Six layers of lip flesh gone and I was adhesive free, with vows to leave my lips to Kris' kisses.