I have just gotten past an hour of searching google sites for hints on this game. It is a simple (!) three-swap puzzle game, with levels (of course), absolutely beautiful screen shots and a long backstory about this archaeologist who is digging up jewels. The story is kinda lame, but the game is cunning and addictive.

Somehow you just keep swapping. Hours pass. I have been cruising forums to find hints to speed this up and so far there seem to be none. The only trick I have is how to go into the log files on your hard drive and erase all previous play.

My brother told me that games have a built-in element to keep track of your play style, so they will always be just a bit harder than you want. This was so depressing that I even asked N. to verify it. Yup. I am beat unless I do the erase. Hmm, that's not fair.

Games like this are mind drugs, I know. Yeah, yeah, I am doing an electronic denial of reality. So what, folks? Addictive types have to have something to keep busy. There is no recovery from the repeat syndrome, and at least I am not drunk or spending money or dating dorks. I am safe here at my keyboard. Unfortunately, the real world is spinning without me...but then it has always left addicts behind.

Maybe I should find a new addiction, something neat like helping others or praying for world peace. Maybe I could go rescue frozen whales and get dripping wet in the icy far northern seas. Then I would get hooked on cold and sinus medicine.

N. came home for T'giving. It was a mixed delight since he reminds me of the past, yet I also feel great pride. I have to concentrate -- I am not him and his (amazing)level of development is solely his own. He carries of buzz of intelligence, a hum from the outside world. He was excited about a new program he's written and his class at Harvard, plus now he is going for a Phd., not just the master's. It's hard to remember that MIT genius folk have a need for a family. I get so caught up in his brain tricks that a hug and kiss seem small potatoes; but I guess those affectionate hugs are why he came home.

Sadly, I see missed stuff with him: a calm home, money, regular middle-class values. I was too distracted by my kids' needs to be the mom that I now wish I could have been. Better I should have gone on welfare and never let them out of my sight...instead I worked too hard and traded one compulsion after another, always busy busy busy. Maybe someday I can look at what IS instead of what WAS. And he IS amazing.

C. and I went to see Bon Jovi last night. What a waste of time. We agreed it was painful for us but maybe the fans were thrilled. The tickets would have cost $150 each for us, and we tried to be nice about it, but come on ... screaming at an ancient dwarf with a mullet?

We made it through three songs and went to Fidelia's, where I had a delicious buffalo burger. If you have to eat meat now and then, I recommend buffalo. It is less likely to have mad-cow and has lower fat than beef, and it is lip-smackin' good.

That mad-cow thing is scarey yet does not seem to stop folk from cramming beef down their throats. Not only is it bad for your heart, etc., but the disease factor...you cannot ask a cow to become a carnivore and expect all to be well in the animal world. What's next, lions drinking Kool-aid? They mix poultry into poultry feed now, too. And dead cats into cat-food. So a grain diet is all that's left for me. Even my beloved nuts come from the rain forest. I wish I could raise all my own food, but my yard was contaminated by an oil spill 15 years ago and I still think I have oil in my water. HAH. Maybe I could strain it off and heat the house with it.

Illness update: The last big one was in July, the horrifying diverticulosis. I seem to be about to be really sick with a solid cold. I now have a catalog of ills: rotator cuff on the left, bad knee on the right, wretched ingrown toenails on each big toe (that would be two total), an earache, a sore throat, and the continual concern with my digestive drama. It all adds up to a long tub soak.

Getting ready to bathe is a whole stupid process. You gotta dog the thermostat, seal off any suspected drafts, select an after-bath ensemble, and then find a book, glasses, smoking implements, and set up a telephone. Then I call Chaunce inside so he won't bug me while I am bathing. Which lets in the cold air and delays it another hour while the house heats up. Tragedy, all is sadness, everywhere I look.

I drank up two cups of coffee and became crazed with energy. I marked, cut, overcast and pinned three pairs of pants. Then I vacuumed the entire downstairs, even getting the small vac out to do the corners. For fun, I puttered. This means I poked around, looking in the odd places I have stored things for things I forgot about. Amazing how much neat stuff I have--and how little of it I need. I also cleaned up my email. Hundreds of messages that just say "OK" or "Ditto".

And for today's electrical complication, one of the two plugs in the sewing room only seems to have one outlet that works. The entire upstairs is on one fuse so I have always suffered a dimming of lights if I use more than one thing. (One tries to iron in daylight.) I love my house but it keeps getting more and more insistent on its own personality. (One hopes it does not decide to self-destruct while one is at home.)

Where exactly do they keep Myrtle Beach? Isn't it on the left of the our Atlantic coast, toward Utah and underneath Washington DC? More like on the coast, maybe, being a beach and all.

Phil & Chris and I had a meeting tonight to plan our drive. Phil & I have a little problem with directions and time. We all made charts. Chris had to do the time & math. We now think it will 30 road hours and three overnight stays if we meander rather than rush. We are going to avoid NYC (which is said to be south of here) by going through Pennsylvania. Then we will just drive to the right and downward (more south stuff) a long time and land at the resort. They will let me drive their new smallish SUV. I just hope there are no big cities on the way. Chris is very good at directions and Phil might get a map. The whole planning process made my skull ache. You should have seen the charts...

I told them I would just ask Kathy where Myrtle Beach is at, and they seemed to think we could probably find it. Getting a map is key at this point, but Phil and I will lose it so Chris can be in charge of that. Phil and I each have a cataract starting in our left eye and he's getting glaucoma. It may be our last little meander without guide dogs! How will the dog get the tolls in the baskets?

No special reason to share my thoughts with the world. Sometimes there is a real need to sound off or revel with delight, both extremes. Sometimes just nothin' goin' on and you kinda wanna stir up some communication. And you can always walk away. Quote from Atlas Shrugged, "We never had to take any of it seriously, did we?"