Kinky People Cry Out For Good Sex

The subject mnemonic for taxonomy in biology (kingdom, phylum, class, order, etc.) crossed my mind as I tried to figure out what the Russian text meant by тип (e.g., тип Mollusca) when listed in a column headed вид (species).

For some reason - fatigue, probably, as I was up until 2 am this morning - I figured тип was a subdivision of вид, but as far as I know, there ain't nothin' below a species (at least at the level I work at).

Of course, it would help if I actually knew anything substantial about biology (as taught in the classroom, natch), as the dictionary - and Google - coughed up the dope that Mollusca is the name of a phylum, at which point the structure of the table became crystal clear to me.

Live and learn.

Cheers...

LJ Idol 0: Introduction

Hi, my name is Alex, and I've got a compulsion to write.

Mostly, it's hidden behind what I do for a living, which is translating technical documents from Russian into English. From time to time, I also work as an interpreter, which doesn't leave me any time or energy to write, really. Any residual cravings are addressed by posting to my LiveJournal, which was created back when membership numbers were four digits long.

It's been quite a road getting here. I was educated in the New York City school system, graduating from SUNY at Stony Brook with degrees in engineering and Russian. (Why that combination? I needed humanities credit to get my engineering degree, and ... well ... I got carried away, okay?)

After graduation, I worked briefly at odd jobs, and as a stage and close-up magician, then as a freelance tour escort for just over two years in the USSR. After meeting and marrying my wife in Moscow, I finally settled down, landing a position as an editor for a New York publisher of English translations of Russian scientific journals.

Eventually, I got an opportunity to move to Florida, to resume - start, actually - an engineering career. Between the job and a growing family, there was little time to write. My compulsion became acute. Translating on the side helped scratch the itch, but it wasn't The Real Thing™. Eventually, I leveraged what I did at work into a series of articles for computer magazines, including BYTE and Dr. Dobb's Journal, and two books on programming.

The writing eventually landed me a job with Borland near Santa Cruz, California. Two years later, while on vacation after having been laid off from Borland, I established a new base of operations in Colorado to become a full-time freelance translator and writer.

I was located in one of the prettiest spots around, nestled in the San Juan mountains just down the road from natural hot springs and within eyeshot of the Continental Divide. I was living the good life, in the clean, crisp mountain air, and doing what I loved. Then I was offered a chance to move to Houston and work with the space program. As an incurable romantic, I viewed this as an opportunity to help humankind take its first baby steps to the stars, so how could I refuse?

The Houston years were good to me. I got to work with an incredible assortment of intelligent, competent people. Among other assignments, I helped train astronauts and cosmonauts for space flight. I learned a tremendous amount. After five years, though, I decided it was time to take my leave.

Since returning to Colorado... well, that would require quite a bit of space to describe, which I've been doing in increments (I'll let you guess where :^). The short version is this: The Road Still Rises Ahead.

Hey! I've got a small mountain of work left to complete this assignment I want to kick out the door Monday morning! Daylight is burning!

Good luck to everyone!

Cheers...

Tuckered...

If I've figured everything right, I've got just under 2,000 words left to edit in the job I want to get out the door Monday morning, plus overall despeckling, which hopefully won't take that long.

I managed to get most of the short item due this morning done last night before I went to bed, except that I wasn't working too fast. The document was written by a fellow who isn't too impressed with the corporate way of doing things in the new Russia; I guess over here, he'd be called a contrarian.

If I wasn't so tired, I'd go off on a rant about people whose sole talent seems to be to sacrifice the goal for baubles and a quick buck, and whose Clue™ deficiency is very nearly palpable, but I am tired, so I'll just say the author and I could probably have a couple of friendly beers and talk shop for a while.

---

Galina excitedly called me upstairs earlier in the afternoon. It seems a coyote had taken shelter in the shade of our neighbor's barn and was sitting, Sphinx-like, with tongue hanging very nearly down to the ground.

Meanwhile, one of several adolescent deer who frequent our neck of the woods goes scampering in front of the coyote, completely oblivious, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Galina about had a fit. I figured the coyote was either tired or letting his lunch settle down.

Hopefully, the coyotes will move on to more abundant hunting grounds once it gets colder. I wouldn't want to bet on an outcome should Shiloh run across a small pack of coyotes on the property.

---

Despite the overloaded plate, I managed to convince Galina earlier this evening to go out for a glass of beer at the Pagosa Brewing Company, which is our local microbrewery.

The place has been around for nearly two years, which is always a good recommendation for a joint like this, and I bought a half-gallon of their "Rodeo Rider Red" the other day, which I found pretty good. Tonight, as we sat down in their beer garden - a family place, by the way, that welcomes kids (and dogs) - I ordered "Pack-It-In Porter," billed as a coconut porter, and a "Poor Richard's Ale" for Galina.

We each tried a sip of the other's drink, and it turned out I liked the ale more than the porter, and she, the porter more than the ale, so we switched glasses. The salsa we ordered was probably about the best I've had in recent memory, and we enjoyed the snack and the drink (to the faint sound of some musicians over at the far end of the garden, by design). FWIW, this place is definitely a "keeper."

Time to relax a little. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.

Cheers...