Marcus' posting of the intructions for posting images prompted me to post this one. It is a view of Cape Town at dusk, taken from Signal Hill, at 19h58 on Friday, 6 February 2004.

Which is the CKate with cats in cows asses
And which is the KCatherine who weaves, which wears glasses

I know at least one of them gardens, or two
And one of them's married to Snoball? or Hoo?

I know at least one takes photos, one cooks
At least one scribbles writings worth entry in books

But they are more clever than Mrs. McCaves
They've self assigned nicknames, our tracking this saves

We've iKat and seajay and twoshoes and Krynn
Though Krynn concedes Cathy could be on the in

And Catherine abdicates Catherine at all
While Kate stays du Nord should Cate come to call

And iKat , good heavens, katerina della cucina
she's names 'nuff for many our dear skaterina

SeaJay had a funny adventure on NYE, and posted it to the DW list. With her permission, I repost it here...

How do you know you're "getting older"?
This way:

2:00 AM - New Year's Eve/Day

"Ma'am, can I see your lisence and registration please?"

"Um, yeah. It's here. I think. Ah shit, spilled my coffee... I don't maybe I left it... no wait, I think it's under the seat ... shit....no.... um ... maybe I don't have it."

"Ma'am, have you been drinking?"

"Just a thousand cups of coffee so I could stay awake this late."

"Would you step out of the car, please?"

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Just step out of the car."

"Um, I'm in my pyjamas."

"Pardon me?"

"Pyjamas."

"Um..."

"See, I'm picking up my kid from the New Year's festivities and I had to get out of bed and, you know, take an extra geritol and put my teeth in and try and remember where I put the keys and keep the cat from running out the door and then the garage door got stuck and I was running late and I was, you know, getting kind of pissy, so I said, you know, fuck it, and left the pyjamas on. And now, AND NOW, I will have to sleep until next Sunday just to catch up and, believe me, if you make me get out of this car I will cry. Just because it's so unfair to get old, ya know?"

Now he's laughing. Not with me, I might add.

"Okay, okay. Is this your car?"

"Jesus H. Christ, man, who the hell would lend ME their car?"

Now he's wishing he had one of those hidden cameras.
By now the plates are run on his little computer and he asks me some questions about where I live and FOR THE LIFE OF ME I could not think of my street name. - Not as bizarre as it sounds - often autistics lose chunks of well known data if stressed.

"Um, cripes! Over there. Just over there. You know, past Polo Park. Okay, from my bathroom I can see Rae and Jerry's. OVER THERE! The one with the brand new roof - which is why I am in my pyjamas instead of an evening gown."

He's not sure now what to do.

"AH, I remember ... Strathcona Street." I said finally out the window to him while he was conferring with someone. And then I rattled off my DL number and the first 10 digits of my car serial number and my SIN and started in on my Health Number when he waved me away. AND I mean WAVED me away - with his whole body. You know -"Go! Get the hell out of here!"

You do not want to know about the next part where I get to the pick up point and have to go inside a crowded place to track down the kid who is not in the appointed place. The upside is that she was so embarrassed that she will never fail to meet when she says she will again.

Oi.