robots, pies, assorted

I am thinking about having a small party. Just as an excuse to have some pie, perhaps play some Settlers of Catan. The first person I will invite is nomic, because he said he will be my new best friend if only I give him some pie. It will be some weekend in March.

Bed Bath & Beyond has a pineapple pillow. I really want it. It's adorably bizarre, and I love pillows.

Roomba maintenance is important. Today I cleaned out the insides of the Roomba, cutting free the hair wrapped around the brushes and blowing out dust. I have also learned that one can clean filters with compressed air, greatly increasing their lifespan and saving money. Now I'm trying to figure out how to hang up the rug outside so I can beat it with a stick. I have the feeling it is full of dust and it is too large to just shake.

So far today I have not been attacked by any spiders.

( cut for Top Chef finale spoilers )

The weather is already hot. Yuck. I would like to buy some rain, please. Though I have successfully rid the side of the house of weeds. Now to work on the area around the gate. I am contemplating ripping up those funny looking asparagus fern plants. I'm not fond of them, or the big spiky thing right by the windows. It's also getting close to time when we should plant a tree in the yard. I want to do some reading and research first.

more moments in consumer hell

This review just made me depressed. It's for a book by that couple who had eight kids and now do reality TV:

I am 25 years old and have never finished reading a book until i read jon & kates book. It is very touching, understanding and real. It is not like a tv show or movie! It's real life.

Seriously? Ugh.

Now this, this was by far the weirdest thing I've seen in ages. It was supposed to be a review for an $800 fishing reel. (Are you kidding me? My grandfather would roll over in his grave if I bought an $800 reel.) Instead, it is a bizarre little fishing story that has me imagining Gandalf fishing:

He threw more casts, neat, long, monstrous hauls that shot out near ninety-feet. With his peaked European-style hat, and my Helios in hand, he looked like a wizard. Between the vivid blues of his pipe smoke, the variegated camouflage of the scattered Madrone, Doug Fir and Cedar, the greens of the waters, the slates and granites of that pebbled beach and a background of coppered sky, you might of thought Easy was fishing a different, untouched era. But look closer, in those seconds, double hauling, line slipping through guides like a phantom channeled, this final cast now, dredged up out of this rod, a well-flogged stick of resins, graphites and mojo-stained cork, a veteran of a thousand trips, look how timeless he makes it.

Now he’s laying my rod parallel to the water, tip pointing like ballplayer calling a homer, the looped bolt of line straightening in slow, unwavering motions and settling in that precise vicinity, settling like parachute silk on a long bubble of air.

When you see all that, it’s almost a letdown to watch this fat Coho corrupt the stillness, explode on the surface, grab fly and vanish. Not for him though, Easy set the hook with gentle certitude, made his way down thigh-high water towards me, my rod-held off-angle to the side, my reel whirring with piscine strengths. Every third pace or so a new blast of pipe smoke emerged, synchronous with the reel, spinning now like a governor. Here’s a man you say, powered by steams and fumes and only harnessed with such a fine rod. I’d say perhaps, wishing, again, that I could fish like Easy. But know this my friend, although I love that rod, it was Easy that conducted that day, it was Easy that made it magic.