Possession With Intent In San Ramon
I am delighted, at this stage of both our lives, to have introduced Greg Stafford to a new drug experience. Specifically, eating Stilton cheese.

Every year at DunDraCon, xomec and I go across to Whole Foods and lunch alfresco on the fruits of their prepared foods section, finishing up this exercise in yuppie Bohemia by splitting a wedge of Stilton. This year, Greg Stafford joined us, and took a tiny morsel of Stilton just to be sociable -- he didn't like blue cheese, or his doctor had given him some farcical warning about cholesterol, or whatever.

Greg eats the morsel... "Oh. You don't often encounter something you taste quite that far up into your nose."

Greg tries another, somewhat larger morsel... "I think I can feel it behind my eyes, now. I'm going to try for my ears, next."

One delicate slab later... "It worked! It's going up my Eustachian tubes! It'll be in the roots of my hair, next! No more... this has to end here!"

We encouraged him to go ahead and have another -- what if it unlocked his pineal gland? -- but he demurred. So xomec and I finished the rest of it ourselves, like the heroes we are. American heroes. Red-blooded. You know.

In other news, DunDraCon was fun, the weather a balmy gorgeousness, and though the sashimi was merely excellent, the spider roll (of all things) at Fuki-Sushi has spoiled me comprehensively for all lesser spider rolls.