Logic Rules
by Scott Hardie on June 16, 2007
(link) Thanks, John.
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
Heart Burn
The recurring pericarditis that I mentioned elsewhere is now believed by my primary-care doctor to be heartburn or possibly an ulcer. The latter explanation is possible I suppose, but I'm skeptical about the former since it feels less like an acidic burning than like a sharp localized lower-chest pain such as a knife wound or bullet wound. Either way, it still keeps occurring every few weeks, it still hurts like a son of a bitch and keeps me awake all night, and I'm way beyond sick of it happening. Go »Pigeon Panic
Since Adrianne doesn't permit replies to her posts, I'll link it here: Poisoned pigeons fall from sky in Texarkana. The chain of events is too bizarre not to reiterate: A pigeon flew into a bank and defecated on a customer, so the bank put poisoned grain on the roof hoping to drive away the pigeons. Instead, dozens of birds flopped dead on the ground downtown – right during the city's annual festival. Go »Willow
Kelly recently spent a socially-distanced evening with some friends who were fostering a two-month-old kitten, and fell in love with her. Who couldn't love a face like this? So, we put in the paperwork to adopt her, and two weeks ago, Willow came home with us for good. Go »When Anxieties Attack
It feels weird to write about a fairly minor health incident in my life after someone else on this site just went through a major crisis. But people have been asking since Kelly's cryptic Facebook comment on Tuesday morning and I guess I should explain. I had been working every night last week on a project for work and getting a couple of hours of sleep each night, which turned into an all-weekend thing, and the avalanche of tasks didn't stop when the site launched early Monday morning. Go »Blood Lines
A few weeks ago, I dropped a glass bottle of salad dressing on the kitchen floor, making the house smell like vinaigrette for a day. Today, I stepped on the last errant bit of glass hiding in a crack of tile by the corner. Better my foot than the cat's paw, I guess; I don't lick between my toes. Go »
