Spring has brought allergens, and hence I have been taking Claritin. It may be a pure coincidence, but I've had more than the usual number of lengthy and elaborate dreams. This kind of sucks when you have lenthy and elaborate dreams about attending functional spec review meetings, which you've already been doing all day at work.

It's a bit more entertaining when you have dreams about you and your entire extended family defending an enormous Scottish castle from an alien invasion using only a bunch of movie props. You get bits like this:
ME: Okay, have we got any weapons?
ENTIRELY FICTIONAL WOMAN WHO IN THIS DREAM IS MY COUSIN: We've got this. (Tosses over an enormous, shiny, and very scary-looking space gun thing. I catch it.)
ME: What is it?
FICTIONAL COUSIN: It's a prop from The Dalek Invasion of Earth.*
ME: Right. (Nods towards unseen aliens outside.) Maybe they don't know that.

The best part? The aliens never actually appeared during this entire dream.

*It couldn't actually have been a prop from The Dalek Invasion of Earth. It was too shiny and modern-looking, and anyway, I've never seen that movie.

We attended Chauncey's memorial service today. We all got to tell our favorite Chauncey stories. Well, a large fraction of our favorite Chauncey stories. There are a lot of Chauncey stories.

Meanwhile, over on this LJ community, people are knitting Daleks. Knitting. Daleks. Holy cow, I gotta learn how to knit.

I discovered a rather bizarre and wonderful web comic called Wondermark recently. Nearly as inscrutable as Cat and Girl, nearly as geeky as xkcd, with a Victorian sensibility all its own.