The Chronicles of the Angry Geologist

Drilling a hole- for science!

The Angry Geologist is Home for the Holidays
Girl Genius Rings
Oh there's no place like home for the holidays

I had exhausted all my alternatives. None of the leads I was pursuing were working out, and the cat was still firmly ensconced in my bathroom. What's more, the little bastard had clawed his way into my heart, and I was starting to get attached.

Starting? Make that "allowing him to fall asleep on my chest while I rationalized ways to keep him." He had to go. Fortunately, some room had just opened up at one of the local no-kills, and I was taking him to his foster home tonight.

Well, actually, I was taking him to his foster owner. I was meeting her at Petsmart.

Look, the organization has a good reputation. There is no doubt in my mind that had I taken him to Petsmart tonight, he would have lived out a happy, healthy life in a good home somewhere. But... this cat showed up on my doorstep. I took him in, got him vet care, fed him, housed him... and, well, loved him for the past month. And I wasn't even going to get to see where he was going. What if the other cats bullied him? What if he got outside? He's not equipped to survive out there, that's why he came to me in the first place! These thoughts were all weighing on my mind as I walked to the car with his crate and all of the toys and scratching pads I'd bought him when he first came in. Even the dog, who I think might have gotten a little attached to Howie himself, was howling in protest, as though I was doing something insanely wrong.

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The Angry Geologist and Howie Lovecraft
Girl Genius Rings
The way it all happened, it sounds like something I made up.

It was the Thursday night before Halloween. I was at home, hanging out. My previous plans of going downtown and handing out candy to trick-or-treaters with my boyfriend had fallen through, as it was misting cold rain and the police had cancelled it for safety. We were supposed to get eight inches of snow the following night, so it was going to happen Monday.

I was walking Roland when I heard this plaintive mewing, a little kitten. I couldn't identify where the sound was coming from, so I just kept going. We were inside and planning on staying put for the night, but I just kept hearing it. Finally, I decided to look out my front door. About six inches off the ground, little yellow eyes looked up at me, and then ran for the bushes.

I felt bad for it, so I got together an empty beer box with a towel for it to shelter in overnight. As I was setting it out, it decided it could trust me enough, and walked up to me. I finally got a good look- it was entirely black.

As I was standing there, my conscience was wrestling with my good sense. I am terribly allergic to cats, as has been proven to me time and time again, most recently visiting with my boyfriend's cousin, where I had such an awful reaction to their two cats that I had to end the visit early, apologizing through the coughing and wheezing fits. I had exactly nothing I needed to care for him, either- no food, no litter, no bed other than the dog's.

But... it was a black cat. On Halloween. It might just be an urban legend, all the horrible things that happen to black cats then... but I know, more than most, that there are horrible people out there for which Halloween would be a convenient excuse. If that wasn't a death sentence for him, surely the oncoming snowstorm would be.

After a bit more farting around and a conversation and material aid from my upstairs neighbor, Howie Lovecraft was warmly and happily ensconced in my dog's old airline crate. A few days later, he went to the vets, where he was dewormed, de-flea-ed and de-ticked, and tested negative for FIV/FeLV/HW. I set him up with a friend of mine to foster, set up a neuter/vaccination appointment, and set about finding him a home.

I didn't realize how bad a year for cats it has been. All the rescues and shelters are full. No one seems to want a cat, not even a cute black kitten. And what's worse, my fostering friend lost her job and couldn't keep her apartment, or my cat, past this Saturday.

So... Howie is back in my apartment. I set him up in my bathroom with a safe environment, got everything I need to care for a cat, and have been popping zyrtec every twelve hours like clockwork. This isn't a long-term solution. It isn't even a great short-term solution. But he is the most sociable, friendliest cat I have ever met, bar none. He will walk up to greet anyone, and never stops purring. He let me rub his belly! How many cats will let you do that? There's no way I can kick him to the curb.

This cat deserves a chance. There is a fee, and references and a home visit are required. If you know anyone who is looking for a cat, please share this link:


Dear Coach
Me on a Mountain
This entry contains identifying information, but is being made public because this is important. Those who find me, may find me. You might not agree with what I have to say, but this is how I feel, and I will deal with the consequences. Please use caution- trigger language ahead: child rape.

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I want to write about Japan,
but there's nothing more to say.

Please donate, if you can.
And if you can't, please pray.

(the crummy poetry was unintentional, but I'm going to leave it like that anyway)

Beer and Respect
Girl Genius Rings
During my long absence from LJ, I started a new, odd little obsession- homebrewing.

It started out, as so many things do, as just a neat little project with a friend of mine- we got a kettle, a bucket, and a kit, and drank two cases of good beer (not all in one sitting). We liked it, so he got a wort chiller, I got my own set, and we started brewing away. He and his wife moved to Boston a few months ago, but in their absence, I've kept it up. So has he- we exchanged beer for Christmas. I gave him a Pumpkin Porter from my own recipe, and he gave me an I Can Keep This Down holiday ale (in case you're wondering, it got the name from the time we invented a Top Gear drinking game using our previous batch of holiday ale. "That's not gone well" took on a whole new meaning the next day).

There's also a guy in my office that brews- pretty seriously, in fact. He's starting his own brewpub, and is now jumping through all the legal argy-bargy that goes with that. I've told him I brewed, and asked him for advice on a few things, but I really don't think he took me seriously until the end of the day today, when I brought in a bottle of the aforementioned Pumpkin Porter for an impromptu tasting.

To put it mildly, he liked it. He said it was one of the few spiced beers he'd drink, and asked me if I'd used a kit. Surprisingly, with that one, I didn't. It was the first recipe I'd made up, which is why I'd splurged and called in a favor one of my artist friends had owed me to design a logo for it. He seemed suitably impressed, and gave me some tips to avoid the uneven carbonation I had experienced with that batch.

Then he invited me to the local homebrew club with the unfortunate name of ReHaB (Regional Harrisburg Brewers), and said he'd shoot me an email next time he was ready to brew. I offered to send him the contact info for my artist friend and bring in a bottle of the IPA I currently have in the fermenter (I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it- racking it restarted the fermentation, and it's still going. This is going to knock people on their butts, if there was that much sugar for the yeast to convert to alcohol!).

I left the tasting session that day with a little bit of a beer buzz (I think I screwed up the ABV calculation again) and feeling like I had earned a bit more respect from someone who's hard to impress. Seriously- it took me forever to convince him that I could do GIS as well as he could if he'd just explain his file structure. I think he's just so used to people saying they were experts, but turn out to be talking out of their asses when you got down to it, or homebrewing using a Mr. Beer. But I think my hard work payed off a bit, and I'm not just some noob. I can brew some good beer!

*looks about*

*hangs up a "Watch This Space" sign.*

Just a Few Things
Girl Genius Rings
There is a God. Who else would have the power to f#*$ with me like this?

1) Still haven't found a new job, but that's okay because I've got as much work as I can handle. I'm better off than many in this economy- guess I'm just going to have to grin and bear it.

1a) Even if my current client doesn't appear to have any concept of reality. ProTip: if it takes someone a full week of concerted work to do the first plan, it's going to take longer than eight hours to do the second.

1b) And we're still losing people at the office. Granted, they're leaving voluntarily, but they're still leaving. All the empty cubes are starting to make me nervous

3) Still visiting the nursing home. There's some people in there... I've got to wonder what their lives were like before. There are some interesting stories, and I hope I've got time to tell them.

4) Went out for Halloween as a preppy vampire. Found a bar I liked. Found out today said bar had it's last night open on Saturday, and is now closed permanently. I think that's par for the course...

5) Found a guy that I liked who had a great sense of humor and an actual job that goes somewhere. Guy appears to like me. Guy is also a grand total of 15 years older than me. This, it seems, is also par for the course.

6) NaNoWriMo BRB

Watch This Space
Girl Genius Rings
Yeah... it's been an embarrassingly long time since I've written.

So what's new?

-I'm trying to find a new job.
-I'm taking Roland to visit the Jewish Home every Monday.
-I've finally found a RP group
--which I may be losing due to job changes.
-I finally took a train trip
--to Philly
---where I went to Wizard World Philly
----where Edward James Olmos told me to go back for my PhD
-----which I'm seriously considering.
-I've lost enough weight so that I am no longer in danger of metabolic syndrome (whew!)
-I'm knitting socks.

I'm also considering upgrading this blog and potentially moving to another platform. Or at least updating on a more regular basis, which I'm sure you will all like.

The Angry Geologist Runs For It
Girl Genius Rings
I ran my first-ever 5K today. My lungs are shouting at my brain for not telling them how long a "K" was.

It wasn't any big deal, of course- it was just a fun run, to raise money for a local domestic violence shelter. Seems a good a cause as any to get off my butt.

It... probably wasn't the best day for it. It was nice and sunny, yes, but it was hot and humid. And I'm certain I didn't drink enough water before the race started. I thought I'd be OK.

Thing is, they were kind of new at doing a run... and it showed. Things were pretty cool until I got about halfway through and suddenly, there were no more signs. I stopped, tried to ask directions, and then farted around until I found approximately where I thought I was supposed to go. Then I finally saw the other sign, and it pointed directly back the way I had just come. Now, by this point, I was pretty much the only one running this part of the course because the rest of the pack had completely passed me by.

I finally figured out the right direction to go and limped along down by the river as what I am certain is exercise induced asthma started to kick in. This made me wheeze and it kind of felt like someone was strangling me. It would have been slightly less bad if it hadn't been for the goose that either thought I was insulting his mother or hitting on him.

That got me to run again.

But you know what, I finished- dead last, but I finished. That's better than not, and miles ahead of never started.

Single Female Mockingbird, Non-smoking, No Chicks
Jager Shot Op
Young male mockingbird stud seeking single female mockingbird with an appreciation for car alarms and backup horns. Come help feather my nest in a spacious, well-wooded apartment complex where the residents feed the birds! Must be willing to relocate, no chicks, serious inquiries only, please.

For the past four nights, a bachelor mockingbird has taken up residence in the tree outside my bedroom window. He has been singing his heart out nonstop every night all night.

This was funny maybe the first time.

I can no longer sleep with the windows open- hell, I can no longer sleep! I had to jam cotton balls in my ears and tell my dog to wake me if the smoke alarm went off, and this was after the shot of whiskey to knock me out. By the way- from newly acquired personal experience, involuntary sleep deprivation is torture, and anyone who says otherwise is banned from my journal effective immediately.

At about 2:30 AM this morning, I looked up in desperation why he was up at such an ungodly hour, and I learned something new. Did you know male mockingbirds sing at night when they're seeking a mate? I didn't either! Mockingbirds are migratory, and are protected species- even if it were legal to harass him, I couldn't bring myself to do it. So, I'm putting out the above personal ad on his behalf. If a female doesn't show up soon, I'm going to look forward to this until the middle of June.


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