I just hate that.  I really do.

For years Don and I have watched "JAG."  Well, he watches it . . .
I'm usually in the room at the computer, but still  - it's bred
familiarity.

Tonight's the final episode of the series.  Harm gets made a
commander in the Navy and is posted to London.  Mac is already a
colonel, and she's posted to San Diego.  At the last moment, as
they finish packing up their respective apartments, Harm proposes and
is accepted.

Hmmmm.  London?  San Diego?  Someone's gonna have to resign their commission.  But who?

It ends with Bud flipping a JAG coin.  Mac called tails, meaning she'd be able to keep her career.

The show stops with the coin in the air.  No resolution.

That is so frustrating! 

New is the order of the day, t'would seem.   Elaine is back
in Texas, searching for a new house, and now Kirstin just called to
invite Don and me out to Keller on Sunday afternoon to check out the
new house they signed a contract for this afternoon. 

Closing date's May 27th, so they need to sell their current house
ASAP.  The new realtor's a crackerjack, though, and it's being
shown most days;  hopefully they'll find a buyer soon!

It sounds wicked nice:  Two story, four bedroom, living room, den,
game room, in a subdivision with a park and a swimming pool. 

Here's the floorplan:

I'm so pleased for them!  And Dmitry's already anticipating going down the corkscrew slide at the pool. 

Ha.  Welcome to the club, Indiana. 

Misery loves company, y'know. 

Indiana passes daylight-saving time bill

Feeling unappreciated?  Unloved?

Then go here and insert your name when prompted. 

It is utterly astonishing what one sees as one makes the daily trek on
the freeways to take Dmitry to school.  This morning there was one
of those sudden, inexplicable everyone-grind-to-a-full-stop-for-no-discernible-reason snafus on the freeway, and I noticed that in the van ahead of me was a woman busily applying mascara. 

In stop and go traffic, so she has to suddenly put on her brakes.  A mascara wand up around her eyes. 

That doesn't seem real intelligent to me.

My poppets are home!  I just returned from collecting Elaine, Hal,
and the girls at the airport and taking them to Mom's, where their cars
had been delivered.  In a short while they'll pile into those cars
and head to - ick - Dallas.  Just for a while, though . . .
they're looking to find a house in Fort Worth, sensible people that
they are. 

My adorable nieces, as they wait the bags to come off the carousel.   They're TEXANS! 

Boy, that's irritating.

Every month throughout the school year I've checked the school web site
to print out the next month's lunch menu and order form.  Temple
doesn't cook itself - lunches are provided by a catering firm, and must
be preordered the month prior.  Annoying, but that's the way they
do it.

Frequently it's toward the end of the month before it gets put up, and
last month it was put up the day it was due . . . very aggravating,
indeed.

However, not as aggravating as this month.  I just called the
office to ask about it, to be told, yes, they're trying to get the bugs
out and be more consistent about getting it online, but it was due in
on the 20th.  Sorry.  It should have been passed out in
homeroom and sent home with Dmitry.

Well, most likely it was, only I have been printing it off the net and
turning it in without his input, so why should he suddenly think maybe
Mom needs the form?  I'd like to blame him (teenage boys are so
doggone blameable, aren't they?), but just can't.  All year it'd
been done without his input, except for choosing which days to take,
and recently he's been buying every day.

Having it on the web site each month then suddenly omitting it, however, was a crummy thing to do.

Good heavens, they're trying it again.  "There is nothing new under the sun" indeed. 

'Superjumbo' A380 lands safely

"Some passenger planes will have cocktail bars, double beds and massage
parlors, while Airbus has suggested that selected jets may even have
jacuzzis and mini-casinos."

Okay, in the interest of fairness I must acknowledge the jacuzzis and massage parlors would be a new touch.

But doubledecker jumbojets with cocktail bars and beds?

Already been done.  Back in the 60's and/or early 70's. 

Didn't fly.  Oh, in the physical
sense they did, but they never really took off.  Wait . . . I mean
there weren't many of them and they didn't pay.  OTOH, this time
around the fuel consumption of these jets has been vastly improved
("said to be as efficient as an average family car"), but then the
price of the fuel has really taken flight, so it might be a wash. 

Alex has his orders at last! 

He and Beth should be heading for Tennessee in a couple of weeks.

He's almost there.  His goal has been to sit down with "his" band
and be able to relax, so to speak, and this is now in sight.  Hot
dang!

I'll never understand it, not if I live to be a thousand years old . .
. someone taking a photograph of a person in acute distress. 

There are a pair of toddlers missing in Georgia, and one of the
internet news sites has on its front page a picture of their father
sitting on what are presumably his front steps, weeping over a photo of
his missing children. 

It's a heartbreaking situation, likely to end in tragedy.  How
does it help, shooting a picture of a man coming to grips with this
nightmare that's engulfed him?

Show photos of the missing children, sure.  That might do some good.  But of their distraught father?

It's using him and his grief to nab readers' attention, and it's disgraceful.