The Curtain is Risen.

Let me share with you a secret. A shocking revelation that will no doubt reshape your perception of the universe. You will be changed. You shan't ever go back to the innocence you enjoyed until this very significant moment. Gird yourself. Scrunch up your face to dilute the white-hot flash from the mushroom cloud of the truth bomb.

Ready?

Attend: Your Sister is prone to fretting.

Don't stone the prophet. I burden you with reality to prepare you for the divulged dimension we shall now inhabit together.

The new semester includes her first attempt at teaching seniors. And she was unnerved. Actually she was doubly nerved. Her nerves had nerves. Then she realized she had taught most of these kids before, and they regarded her fondly. So, no, Mrs. Crabapple, you're not teaching Dangerous Minds. Chillax. She celebrated the easing of tensions with some TV and hot chocolate.

I continued to delineate my short comic. Literally. I'm thumbnailing my story to fit six pages, and I have to cut scenes I had great hopes for. The plot is shifting, but I know how it should start and end. The middle, where the protagonist must be convinced to act, is the trick.


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The view from above. Click to embiggen.

I'm Going to Blab.

Lost was really really good last night, and they are truly stepping up the action. When a character deflected repeated requests to explain what was going on, he was slapped and promptly spilled the beans. This is what the show needs to do right now. Explicate. Pay off. Reward the loyal viewers, and last night appears to be the right start to the last two seasons.

I made a dish that required crumbled Saltines, and it surprisingly didn't taste white-trashy at all.

Your Sister begins the news semester today, and she continues to fret about teaching seniors. I try to remind her that they need her passing grade to graduate. She has the Power of Grayskull. She alone can determine their fate. I'd make a chart of bribe hierarchies. ("I will not respond to any muffin devoid of chocolate. If said muffin chocolate is revealed to be laxatives, your body will be buried in the end zone. Also, I like argyle socks.")

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In the Cool News
Obama has been busy. He took his oath again last night (sans Bible, and man is that raising a stink). He's going to overturn the Bush ban on federal funds going to goreign agencies that provide abortion services today on this 36th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. He froze the salaries of his senior staff, began legislation to close Gitmo, and called Middle East leaders to work on that whole blood-feud thing. He's workin'.

As are the people who make a living kvetching to their audiences. The local radio preacher is practically declaring America is dead, and how is "Prayer Time" hour of comment is a legal use of religious resources I can't imagine. The usual national suspects are prophesying doom. But mostly they exude the sourest of sour grapes. All of them had a favorite GOP candidate, and all of them lost. Most of them didn't get beyond May as viable candidates. And there is no immediate sign of sure charismatic leadership. Palin is their best bet. Huckabee is developing a media platform with a book tour and a new FOX News show. But both reach to the moral conservatives, assuming that bloc of voters lay dormant in the November elections. They didn't. They voted. They lost. Why fish in that barrel again? It's desperation.

Hillary had two nay votes for her Senate confirmation yesterday. One was from S.C., and he only did so to appease the state party that still can't support a female candidate for any office beyond superintendent of education. Governor? Senator? Not in South Carolina. Certainly not as a Republican. There's too much cultural tradition to keep women subordinate. So how can that state hope to carry palin in 2012? How can any moral-conservative with a strict religious upbringing vote for a woman to lead the country when they won't let a woman lead their church? It won't happen. The GOP can only get her elected by pursuing economic conservatism. And only after they etach her what that means.

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This is a great shirt.

We're Inaugured

As soon as my stomach-ick vanished, Your Sister developed it. Hers was much milder, but the signs are clear: The abdomen was swollen and tender, and she had nausea. It was gone in a few days.

My back has again acted up -- further proof that I am old -- and I'm testing remedies. The heat wraps are nice, but the IcyHot lotion is an immediate boon. I think the cold mixed with my office chair to wrack my lower spine. It only flared up again a few days ago so I no longer suspect it's an onset of MS. I worry it's a weight issue, but I haven't put on that much winter weight. Still, to be safe, I'll went to the gym Monday and ran.

I was asked to be part of a Valentine's dinner theater production. It would be me and an actress performing a ten-page work. We would set up our own rehearsals, and I suppose be our own director. I'm gonna pass. The comic story is blossoming well, and I want to focus on that for now.

I stayed home and watched the ceremonies. I was snowed in from work. Your Sis had to report for duty despite the treacherous ice, and a student threatened to jump from the stadium bleachers. He was talked down by some administrators. My day was more mundane. I cleaned the house while watching the coverage of the swearing-in. I watched it again with Your Sis when she got home. It was roughly nine hours of inauguration coverage, and I was Obama-blind by the time I got to bed.

But I was glad to watch it, and I really did enjoy it when we all weren't terrified that Ted Kennedy died between entrees. Our First Couple are adorable, and their kids are adorable, and he delivered a speech that demands action and maturity. What's not to like?

Lost returns tonight with a two-hour season premiere.

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Maybe we shouldn't take that cruise.