There are many ideas for posts flitting in and out of OmegaMom's brain these days. Unfortunately, my brain is almost completely shutdown right now; I think it's still recuperating from The Project. At work, at home, at the keyboard--a thought gets going and it gets bogged down. What The Brain needs is a vacation. Anyway, some of those flitting thoughts: I saw a white butterfly with black markings floating around the office parking lot the other day. I was going to rhapsodize about how lovely it is, but this little blurb I found makes me want to squish it instead. According to the blurb, it can, during big outbreaks, completely defoliate pines! Ack!

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Another "much to my dismay" item: "A WOMAN nicknamed 'Dr Evil' who arranged the adoption of 150 Vietnamese babies to Ireland has admitted the paperwork was forged by corrupt officials. In a series of secretly recorded meetings, My Linh Soland told an Irish Independent reporter how the children's histories were invented. And she told how officials at the highest level were paid to procure paperwork or to turn a blind eye about whether the adoptions were legal or ethical." Sigh. The full story requires registration. This is just after Vietnam recently reopened to adoptions. The scandal in question is related specifically to adoptions to Ireland, and the Vietnamese adoption authorities claim that all the adoptions arranged were legal and above-board. Ahem. Right. Sounds pretty pervasive to me. So anyway, I have to fire this article off to OmegaDad and say, "Now what??"

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I recently purchased some nice leather pseudo-Teva sandals to wear in the boy's section at Kohl's. They are oh-so-comfy. They also SQUEAK. Loudly. Now, squeaky shoes are one of those things that are cute (in moderation) when squeaky by intent and worn by toddlers. But at work, in certain smaller hallways, my pseudo-Tevas are embarassingly loud. It's sort of the modern-day equivalent of the leper's bell; I feel as if I should be calling out, "Unclean! Unclean!" as I march through the halls. Does anyone know of a remedy for squeaks in shoes?

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A regional legend hereabouts has it that, if the monsoon rains arrive early (prior to July 4), the monsoon season itself will be short. After two weeks of lovely rainy days, starting in late June, this week the days have been relentlessly sunny, with the puffs trying vainly to grow into cumulus-type clouds. OmegaDad says that he has access to 30 years' worth of weather data, including monsoon-onset-dates, and he's thinking of doing some number crunching to see if the legend is true or not.

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Speaking of OmegaDad, one of these days I'm going to pen a rant aimed at his employers. The gist: OmegaDad is a damned good, hard, creative worker, who gets things done. His employers recognize this, and so they're determined to keep him where he is, rather than allowing him to move sideways and up. I'd like to go bash them on their pointy heads.

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I am yearning after next week. I hope to take the week off. If I do, I will spend the week doing nothing. Maybe The Brain will take pity on me if I do, and start revving up again.