See the second installment of the, now famous, sock puppet adventures.

How long should it take to post something, I know, I know – get over it. Let's just say I have been busy not using my computer for more than two hours at a time cause I was having too much fun in that better country and then there is that one part where I just really don't wanna write anything because, well why should I? The excuse I should be using is something along the lines of being too busy to waste my time on the internet because I have been working so hard, but then I might be lying. It doesn't matter, no need to justify my lack of blogging interest as of late.

Just returned from a wonderful trip to England where I got very comfortable with the idea that sitting in pubs for at least 3 hours every day is really what I need in life to be a much happier person. I also decided that my future home must be made of a very old stones which shimmer in the sunlight and probably it should have the street address inscribed directly over the door, and maybe a giant ampersand with the swashiest swash of a tail flying all over the building's facade. And then I guess I should hang out on the veranda, under the ivy, near the English garden and throw stones at passers by, not because they've done anything, but because by then I will just be an old crotchety woman with an attitude who hangs out at the pub all day drinking thick, black pints of guinness. Um, yeh.

The conference was very enjoyable, especially those parts when I sat and laughed with people. I hate to say that the first couple of days I couldn't pay much attention in the lectures, but the jet-lag was pretty bad this time and all that laughing I did with people prevented many opportunities for rest. Good times, good times – oh yes and there are photos, give them a look.

Hello from England! I'm going to keep this short and sweet because I am tired as could be, there is much to do and I am actually considering leaving the library for the day, skipping out on tonight's reception so I can go back to my little hotel room in the West end and sleep for as long as I possibly can. I tried to sleep last night, even after over 24 hours without a wink and 3 pints of Guiness, I could not rest. I tossed and turned all night, watching two red blinking lights on my ceiling and listening to the sounds of early birds and unfamiliar creaking noises. I was tired of just laying there so I finally rose around 5:30am or so to get ready for the big day.

This morning as I left my room, walked down the street to grab a coffee as the sun was still rising, I felt as though it was part of my daily routine – it actually reminded me of my life in San Francisco. Up early with fresh coffee, reading the paper with the suits on our way downtown – it was very similar and somehow very comfortable. Oddly, I will be looking forward to the remaining morning commutes through the city.

More to come when I am good and ready, there is plenty of time to talk.

I'm being pressured to write something here, anything will do I guess. Here comes the ramble. I am having one of those blog-blocks, not sure what to write, can't seem to think of anything mildy interesting. I'd tell a joke, but they are all either really bad type jokes that only a sock puppet should be telling and all the others I know are far too crude. What I do know is that I have just finished off a mighty strong long espresso (double, thank you) and my mind is racing around trying to organize the next 48 hours of work that must get done, but won't, including trying to fit in dry cleaning visits and packing up my travel bag(s). I've become completely obsessed with the whole packing thing, not only do I have to make a list of what will be neatly folded and stuffed into corners, but I actually have been drawing pictures of these items, for some reason I am afraid I might forget it if I don't make sure the image is embedded in my brain. See the last trip, and scroll to 2.16. That's it, nothing else to say, I have successfully ignored the last 20 minutes of lecture. I want to go buy some pens and a glue stick.

Funniest thing I've read all day, maybe all week:

"ITC Garamond looks like a typeface with bell bottoms. All the proportions are wrong – when it bends down, you can see its butt cheeks."
– Erik Spiekermann

Quote taken from comment section on Design Observer, "I Hate ITC Garamond."

NOooo! One of my worst fears has become a reality! One of the last referrers to my site was a Google for… sigh … Copperplate Gothic! I go cry now.

I had an urge to paint a little alphabet (it is quite small, maybe 4 inches in width), I think I have mentioned wanting to do this before. I'm not much of a painter, I tend to rush every stroke in hopes of reaching the finished piece as soon as humanly possible. I don't have patience with painting, I suppose the same goes for any craft.

I made it while watching the first round of presidential debates last night, so every letter, or various parts of the letters remind me of things said by either Bush or Kerry. That slight little ear on the 'g' makes me think of Bush's statement regarding Kerry being an unfit commander in chief with an inconsistent stance on Iraq… sending mixed messages to our people. When looking at the gnarled little 'o' I hear … inconsistant stance on Iraq… sending mixed messages. Examining the counter space of the 'a' I think of inconsistent messages that are mixed and too inconsistent for a commander in chief.

If you haven't already got my hilarious attempt at a joke, I'm making references to probably the only thing Bush was trained to say during the debates. Every question led to a form of this statement on inconsistency, and regardless of the [republican] political analysts who say he showed the American people that he is a skilled orator and courageous leader of this country, I think he made himself look incredibly foolish with his ability to completely avoid questions (maybe this is considered a political skill?) and continually spout out banal statements that he must have practiced in front of a mirror for at least two minutes before the debates began. And the whimpering! "But, wait, lemme, I, uh, mommy!"