I'm trying to find a second source to back this up, but according to CNN, the six Egyptian students that were missing this week have been arrested.

...? Arrested for what, exactly? Not turning up on time for classes? It's utter poppycock, and I feel bad for those kids. Talk about bad timing. But seriously, how do we justify arresting them? On what grounds--we assumed they might be up to no good, based on our histrionic, preconceived notions and some really bad timing? Grrr. Just...grrrr. A couple more coincidences and incidents like the ones over the past couple of days, and there's going to be a witch-hunt.
(Hey, FBI, if you are reading this, can you send a Scully look-alike to question me? I don't mind if she plays "bad cop.")

On a different subject, today is Friday, and payday, and even though it's not really a weekend for me, I decided to celebrate a little. So, after work, I swung by Von's and picked up a bouquet of flowers. (Lesson of the day: Von's flowers are really pricey. I got the cheapest bouquet, that had mainly mums in it. I am not a huge fan of mums or carnations--I find them generic, much like roses--but dammit, I wanted some flowers.) And they do jazz the place up a bit. So, tonight, I had my dinner with flowers and Bach cello playing in the background.

Recently, I discovered a museum out towards L.A. that looks to be really appealing--the Getty Museum. From what I can tell from the website, and a book I have consulted, there's quite a variety of works there--classical, medieval, and renaissance. And I just learned that later this fall, there's going to be an exhibition there with some of Caspar David Friedrich's works--I love his works, and have always wanted to see some of them. I might hold off on heading to the Getty until then. That will be a huge treat. And cheap, too!

I have been busy this week, and have not had the chance to read much. However, I finally finished the much-hyped Year of Magical Thinking. Mum had told me about it earlier in the year, and aroused my curiosity. It was an interesting memoir of grief. Perhaps, back in the spring time, I would have related to it more, and while I still agree with a lot of what the author says ("Life changes fast; life changes in an instant"), I tend to shy away from the pain. The author had lost her husband of 40 years one winter night; up until that point they had lived and worked and created together (they were both writers); they had not only a marriage, but a life partnership. And then, poof, the husband is gone, the wife is numb and slightly deranged by grief, and I don't think a lot of us like to contemplate the destruction or loss of that kind of partnership. As hard it must be to create a partnership, a happy unity of minds like that, it must be a hell of a lot harder to lose it.

Word of the day, from Dictionary.com's archives:

triskaidekaphobia: fear of the number 13.