out of the blue

Today's weather was unpredictable. The sunny afternoon was interspersed with furious hailstorms and pelting rain. After one such outburst died down, I started walking into town with the vague hope of getting to a bookstore before the next one began. I made it, but as I walked into the bookstore I could see another front of dark clouds moving inexorably across the city.

I was at the bookstore to purchase Odd and the Frost Giants. Neil Gaiman wrote this book for World Book Day, an event designed to magically transform stuffy little television-watching U.K. children into voracious-and-enlightened readers. It only cost me a pound, which made me feel something of a thief. After all, I'm already voracious and somewhat enlightened, and I'm no longer a child in any sense but the deepest.

Clutching the book beneath my jacket, I made my way towards The Tea House. I failed to reach it before the leading edge of the storm dumped hail in waves on the streets around me. It was exhilarating and harmless — I was wearing my rain jacket, which holds down a second job as a hail barrier.

Although I failed to dodge the hail, I did manage to avoid the heavy rain that followed it. While the rain darkened the polished Elm Street cobblestones and washed the colors from the buildings, I was inside enjoying a pot of free-trade Assam tea and breaking into Odd and the Frost Giants.

It's a simple book but a good one, filled with matter-of-fact magic and fabulous adventure. Odd is a cheerful and unlucky boy possessing no small amount of charm. He travels with his companions (a fox, an eagle and a bear) to Asgard, hall of the Norse Gods, in order to win the city back from the Frost Giants. Luckily, he's a special boy.

I finished the book and my tea and happily made my way homeward. Gaiman stories and quick-change weather make for incredible sky vistas. They took my breath away.

So I've been looking at old chat logs. Found this conversation between me and… myself. It's a bit odd.

Session Start (AIM - insanityisall:enthupaul): Sun Jan 04 23:24:00 2004
enthupaul: Hey.
*** Auto-response sent to enthupaul: Calculus excercises the brain and I'm working up a mental sweat.
insanityisall: Hello.
insanityisall: I see you've gotten a different text color.
enthupaul: Well, yes.
insanityisall: It's still blue, but not nearly as nice a color.
enthupaul: Ah.
enthupaul: I was somewhat disturbed by having everything in common with you.
enthupaul: It's as if it were meant to be.
enthupaul: But that's impossible.
enthupaul: Coincidences just bring back bad memories that I'd rather foget.
enthupaul: Sorry, forget.
insanityisall: I can understand that.
insanityisall: If I'd gone through a similar situation, I might have turned out very similar.
insanityisall: But I must be going to bed now.
insanityisall: Because I'm bloody tired.
enthupaul: Okay.
enthupaul: Well, talk to you later.
enthupaul: I only came online to see if you were there…
enthupaul: I'm afraid I wasn't very interesting when I talked to you last.
insanityisall: That is partially my fault.
enthupaul: I don't blame you.
insanityisall: Well, nor do I blame you.
insanityisall: So, we're even.
enthupaul: Hehe.
enthupaul: Goodnight.
insanityisall: See you.
Session Close (enthupaul): Sun Jan 04 23:27:34 2004

New best article title: "For Frog-Licking Scientist, the Tongue Says It All".

"[But] I don't recommend this," the biologist cautioned, "because if you lick the wrong frog it can be very bad."

…

By 1990 Valerie was entering her hand-raised frogs into local jumping races. When a photo of her blowing on her favorite frog—to encourage jumping—landed in the Baltimore Sun, it was both exciting and worrisome: She had skipped school for the contest. Luckily, the school principal "thought it was downright hilarious," she said.

…

Today Valerie, six feet tall (about two meters tall) with long copper hair, "is still kissing frogs in search of the one that will turn into her prince," [Valerie's mother] said.

Courtesy of National Geographic Magazine.