my hair is my glory and, is that santa claus?

So, without going into too much detail about it, I got a jacked up hair cut about 5 weeks ago. That was bad, but what was worse is that my hairdresser also straightened my hair WITHOUT ASKING ME.

ANNOYING!

Because I LIKE being called Medusa (with blond hair instead of snakes, because you know I don't like snakes). I ended up getting this amazing hair mask and my hair is slowly getting back to normal.

So last night I was having a drink with my friend Jessie. She has really long black hair and it's curly like mine. She was commiserating with me about my still a little jacked up hair. She's small but she gets loud after a few drinks. Anyway, a black woman in the bar (it's a bar where homeless people hang out some times, but I wanted to go there because it's right down my street) came up to me and said "Your hair is your glory! Grow your glory!"

I didn't know what to do so I said "Okay, um, I won't get it cut for a long time."

But the woman wouldn't stop going on about my hair. And then a guy walked in with this weird pointy beard. He was super short and looked like one of those guys that starts a cult and then kills all the members.

So we decided to go to another local bar (it's so local they check your ID to make sure you're from the hood before they serve you a drink). Jessie wondered, loudly, why people on crack like me so much (I'm often approached on the street by homeless crack heads - they don't ask me for money - they just want to talk to me). People started sneak looking at me. Then I told her a story and she started laughing so hard everyone in the bar turned around to look at her and this time she noticed a white haired guy sitting at the end of the bar.

She was like "Oh my god! Is that santa claus?"

At which point I decided it was time to walk her home. While we were waiting at a stop light I checked my crackberry and saw I had a text from my brother so I said "Oh, I got a text from Bob." And Jessie said "That's your brother's name? That's what I named my vibrator!"

She laughed about that the whole walk home.

I'm not so sure about this "socializing" stuff.

why researchers need to hire a stand up comedian

I just read an article on NPR about how researchers managed to send a message through 787 feet of stone using a beam of neutrinos.

A quote from another article said:

For the first time, scientists have used neutrinos — the exotic fundamental particles that routinely pass right through Earth — to send a message through the ground.

Guess what message they sent? Remembering that neutrinos are exotic and that this was a ground breaking experiment with potential to change, if nothing else, the way we communicate (at&t will have to kiss all those gov dollars for maintaining phone lines bye bye for starters). And that, if CERN figures out whether or not a neutrino did travel faster than the speed of light that we could send messages back in time. And that this wasn't an overnight experiment, surely it was years in the making and all the scientists had to be thinking about what message to send...

They sent one word: neutrino.

Um, what? Are you fucking KIDDING???????????

Why not "Rosebud was his sled", "first neutrino spam message", "my neutrino went through the center of the earth and all I got was this lousy t-shirt", "neutrinos are particles too", "I've been shot!", "neutrinos do it faster"...

And those are just stupid things that I thought up in one minute.

It's a happy day for science, and a sad day for creativity

Reminds me of my dream where I was allowed to look through a telescope to see the secrets of the universe...

the gift that keeps on giving me shit

I should have known not to get too excited about my new laptop.

I turned it on yesterday late afternoon so I could start migrating stuff off this old dying dog.

BUT -

My name is spelled wrong on my account so I wasn't able to connect to the network; also, it took me a while to figure out where the spelling error was (they replaced the "a" in my last name with a "u" - interesting).

They sent me the wrong passwords for both my Admin and user accounts. Luckily I was able to guess them both.

They sent the laptop loaded with nothing but windows 7 and some other crap. Seriously? Like, they couldn't take the FIVE FUCKING SECONDS to load MS Office so instead I wasted 5 hours downloading it off a server that's probably in fucking India.

The instructions for the set up were completely wrong. Like wrong at step 2. How fucking incompetent do you have to be that in a 4 page 20 step document EVERYTHING is wrong after step 1 (which was "log on"). I just started winging it (I know, for YOU set up of a laptop is not hard - but I am in an INSANE corporate environment and have to do shit like encrypt my hard drive, add passwords to disks, link up to a security site that checks my laptop once a week for sensitive information compliance and I had to also figure out what fucking server my mail is on - WHO KNOWS THAT??????).

I probably would not be so pissed if I hadn't been up in the Boulder office where they load up the laptops and seen most of the staff there talking or playing solitaire. I think one guy was working on a laptop. No, better to have me waste my time doing this shit than someone who IS GETTING PAID TO BE IT SUPPORT.

Don't worry. I have a job interview on Friday.

the squeaky wheel gets the biggest laptop ever

My new laptop arrived. It's a lot bigger than my old one and weighs as much as I do.

It fucking better be faster and more stable.

Can't wait to lug that power supply around. I thought batteries were getting smaller.

We are a high tech company.

the wifesitter

My writing buddy Kevin just made a trailer for a tv show called The Wifesitter. Check it out. He plays the husband.

a strange underwear drawer of their own

Generally, it's hard to be friends with mathematicians. Sure they occasionally provide some useful information. But for the most part, they're smart asses. Like this mathematician I know that I was trying to get to help me think of a practical use for the Goldbach Conjecture should it ever be proved (I like to stress myself out by thinking about problems that can't be solved but that don't involve Pakistan):

I wrote:

I've been taking tests for an hour to see if I pick the golden rectangle out of a series of rectangles and I can't do it. Like, 90% of the population can do it. I'm so depressed.

I've been reading a book about chaos and numbers. Discovered a neat card trick, which is how to suspend a card completely off of a table using only four cards and no glue. And have been caught up in wondering about a practical use for the Goldbach Conjecture.

And, ha ha:

There are three types of people: those who count precisely and those who don't.

I'm bored. When are you getting home?

He wrote:

I'm home. I’m remembering that one time during the week I had an insight about chaos theory, but I’m too rushed right now to articulate it. Remind me later.

The original interest in Goldbach’s Conjecture was to use it as a gravel screen in the search for prime numbers I would assume. But that has probably gone by the boards these days, with modern machine searching algorithms.

I wrote (to be a smart ass):

It's this:

Every even integer greater than 2 can be expressed as the sum of two primes

So the multiplication of 2 primes can be used to encrypt data because it's so hard to figure out what the two original primes were, I was thinking about, if Goldbach's conjecture could be proven to be true is there a practical application.

He wrote:

I know/knew what Goldbach’s conjecture is, and was merely speculating on its usefulness myself. But think of your encryption proposal this way – it will only be useful if the GC remains unproven, just because any proof of the GC is liable to include a calculation engine that will determine the primes involved that sum to a particular value. In other words, you would only have a trustworthy, computable code if the GC were proven. But, if the GC were proven, then its proof could be applied in the deciphering of your encryption. Zero sum game.

Best place to hide stuff is still across the borders of adjacent second order mathematical languages – i.e. book codes and the like, that are generated anew for each message and user.

Though, your underwear drawer can work pretty good, too. No one ever stole my credit card numbers from there.

And since he said "your underwear drawer" (people are normally good at math or english, and, he's a mathematician) I wrote:

Why are you hiding your credit card numbers in my underwear drawer?

You're right. No one looks in there.

It should be noted I don't have an underwear drawer.

He wrote (because he can't admit he's made even an english mistake):

Think of your underwear drawer as my personal version of cloud computing, except that your underwear drawer won’t be subject to repetitive hacking attempts.

Okay. Denial of service attacks, maybe.

Anyway. Everyone should have one. You know... they could arrange a strange underwear drawer of their own.

 Um, what?????

Though, I did laugh about the cloud comment. Reminded me of the obnoxious consultant sitting in his own personal cloud.

it turns out, I'm not a dinosaur

I just took a quiz on fake science to find out what kind of dinosaur I am.

Be...normal?

more on mittens

I was just reading an article about Khodorkovsky, the Russian billionaire wrongly jailed by Putin. While he was awaiting trial he was forced to work in the prison colony's mitten factory.


Interesting tie in with my cringle crisp story since, for punishment, the croco-diamond and the kangawrong have to knit mittens as punishment for trying to steal the ton-o-tap full of cringle crisps. And to think someone told me that was a "ridiculous" punishment.

rooting my xoom

My brother Steve sends me links to stuff all the time, probably in the hopes that someday I won't be such a fucking idiot. But half the time I don't understand what he's sending me.

For example, on Wednesday he sent me an email titled: root your xoom. I didn't open it for a few days because I thought his email might have gotten hacked. Then curiosity got the best of me and I opened it. It said:

http://cornea.site40.net/

 

I had to re-root my xoom, this program is much easier than the way I did it the first time.

I was like, um, what? So I sent him an email back:

Not to be totally stupid, but what does rooting do?

I didn't mention I had no idea what a xoom was.

It turns out xoom is the new tablet I just bought. For those of you with tablets that are curious, here's what, according to Steve, rooting your xoom will do (besides invalidating your warranty):

http://www.tomsguide.com/us/Root-Your-Android-Phone,review-1688.html

I rooted my xoom so I can back it up and so I can make the external sdcard read/write. But at the end of the day I bought the device, it is mine, I should have control over it, not the other way around.

I need to write up an article on the must have droid apps for new users, but here is a short list for you (root or not):
- es file explorer (manage your files, connect to remote, I use every day)
- airdroid (manage your device and file with easy transfer from your computer, excellent app)
- mx player (plays most videos)
- dolphin hd (best web browser, add-ons capable)
- mobo player (plays most videos)
- hacker's keyboard with english (keyboard replacement, I alternate with smart keyboard but smart is $)
- Amazon app store (new free app every day)
- Skype (xooms are awesome skype devices)

 As if I would ever skype anyone. I hate the idea of my computer listening in on my conversations.

And now I'm going to go around asking people if they've rooted their xooms so I can feel intellectually superior.

 

shop rock

I was in safeway today buying garlic powder (I just learned how to make a kick ass Greek salad dressing - I will never buy pre-made dressing again - why does store bought salad dressing taste so bad?) and, as I was trying to figure out which aisle might have garlic powder, I noticed that van halen's hot for teacher was playing.

Way, way back in the day I remember that song being banned from my elementary school because van halen was considered at the time to be obscene. Ha. And now they're playing at the grocery store?

I'm also not a fan of listening to top 40 music when I'm in a hotel lobby. Every hotel I've stayed in the past year has had some kind of top forty music playing in the lobby.

I miss the good old days when they played classical music. Or even jazz. I'm not sad that they aren't playing muzak anymore. I just don't want to listen to van halen while I'm trying to decide which grapes to buy. I don't like talking over the fray when I'm trying to check into my hotel.

when not fighting dark forces I fight myself

My friend Arthur sent me this email:

Franki,

This made me think of you.  Remember the time when you went from blond to black and did not recognize yourself in the mirror …

 

 

All because one night in Las Cruces, NM, we were getting drunk at a bar called the double eagle. I was drinking top shelf margaritas. I think it was my going away party.

 

Anyway, I had just dyed my hair black and in the course of getting drunk forgot. At some point in the evening I had to walk across a dance floor to get to the ladies. One wall of the dance floor was a mirror. I saw the reflection of the hallway to the bathroom in the mirror and tried to walk down it. When I bumped into the mirror I looked up and thought I had bumped into this bitch with black hair.

 

I said "You go that way and I'll go this way."

 

Bitch bumped into me again. I said "Stop bumping into me" and tried to walk down the hallway. 

 

Finally I started screaming and threatening to hit her. The bouncer came over and pointed out I was walking into a mirror.

 

Tres embarrassing.

 

Same night, I got up on the table and gave a speech about something.

 

Next day at work I was massively hung over and Arthur tried to get me to eat a piece of key lime pie.

 

Ick.

 

I still love key lime pie but haven't had a margarita since.

 

 

there's a first time for everything

I have a nemesis at work...another consultant who is always fucking up stuff at client sites because he comes up with the stupidest, most complex solutions to problems. Then I have to go in and clean up the mess. But, because he has seniority over me (he's worked at the company for 20 years) we end up in scenarios where he gets a 6 month engagement and I only get 2 weeks to fix all the problems after his 6 month engagement fails.

Which is insane. But, that's the way my company works.

So he's currently trying to pawn off a total disaster client on me and is only giving me 48 hours to fix a huge problem. I told him no. So he back channeled my manager and said I was refusing work even though I have nothing on my schedule. My manager (surprisingly) forwarded me the email and asked what was up.

I explained to him my take on the "assignment" and said I didn't want to get involved.

My manager called me this morning and said he wanted more details from me. I gave them to him and he said he's going to have a meeting with my upper management to call the asshole consultant on his bullshit. And then he said to me "This question is probably going to make you think I'm even stupider than you already think I am" (the question was about what one of the software tools that he sells is supposed to do). I was like whoa. Is it that obvious? Then I felt bad, even though he has, in the past, been pretty much a jerk to me.

Maybe someone told him I'm looking for a new job. But it was nice of him to call and to back me up. I resolve to try to be nicer to him.

ever wonder what a stuffed animal would look like inside out?

Wonder no more. This is a great article on NPR about creative thinking.

coincidence, chaos, and all that math jazz

I've been reading this great math book called Coincidence, Chaos, and all that Math Jazz. I just read a chapter about the golden rectangle.

But it's making me feel bad. I keep looking at examples of rectangles and can never pick the golden rectangle. I always pick the fucked up rectangle. I'm so annoyed. Like, 99% of the population can pick out the golden rectangle.

What's wrong with me?

the resolution of the class

Finally, Wednesday afternoon, I got an email from the help desk that the issue with the license and the elab availability had been resolved. I spent two hours updating license files for the 15 elab instances.

So what do you think happened on Thursday?

15 minutes before the class was supposed to start I get a phone call from the class coordinator saying the customer canceled Thursday's class because not enough people were available. FIFTEEN FUCKING MINUTES before class.

What do you think happened on Friday?

I got a call at 6 am asking why I hadn't logged on to the class yet. Turns out the training coordinator gave the people who moderate the class a different start time than the people who were taking the class (class was scheduled with the students to start at 8 am MST, moderator was told 8 am EST). Luckily I was awake.

And then the customer brought 15 new students (i.e. not in the original class) in 4 hours before the class was supposed to end. He asked me to train these 15 new students on what is essentially 24 hours of class material. Compress 24 hours into 4 hours? Nightmare.

I did my best.

And luckily have a job interview this week to work somewhere else.

Ech.

the stupidest company in the world

So, tomorrow and Friday I'm supposed to be teaching an online class. It's a makeup for an online class I taught a month ago. We have to have a make up class because the last time the lab environment wasn't available the first day (the idiot who set up the class didn't order it) and when we finally got into the lab half way through the second day (so, 16 hours into a class that is 80% lab) the license for the software the students use was expired. Meaning, of 14 hours of lab work the students ended up getting 2 hours.

Well, the idiot (same person) who set up the make up class only ordered the lab for the second day. I've been trying since last Wednesday, when I caught the error, to ensure that the lab will be available tomorrow. The "help" desk has closed the ticket twice without resolving it and the idiot I spoke to change the lab date from 2 march to 3 march (I had requested 1 & 2 march - perhaps the enterprising little fuck nut thought I meant 1 + 2 and got 3).

I still don't know if the lab is going to work tomorrow.

Oh, and the license file for the lab is STILL expired. I just received an email that the due date for the ticket I opened 24 February (which wasn't created until 27 February) has a due date of 9 March. And the notes say specifically that the class is being run 1 March.

I need a new job.

hooray! it's done! (sort of)

I just finished my book!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yea!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

EXTREME WRITING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now I just have to edit it by Wednesday so I can send it in to the contest. Special thanks to Kevin C. from my writer's group who has done some editing for me!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've made a bunch of revisions, will try to post some sections later.

For now, here's the section (not edited yet) where the giant man, kangawrong, and croco-diamond go to deliver the mittens to the whitey biteys:

And so they embarked out onto the wharf. First the croco-diamond, in charge of the mission, went out thump thump skrrrr, swinging his tail from side to side to clear any possible splinters as to protect the kangawrong. Next the kangawrong hop hip hop hop bump. And finally the giant man, carrying all of the parts for the siege craft thum shudder thum shudder.

boom! (from when he set the parts of the siege craft down on the wharf).

The giant man helped the kangawrong set up the kangapult while the croco-diamond read off his instructions, occasionally checking by the position of the sun to be sure things were happening on time. He paced back and forth in front of the kangapult frantically consulting his papers as the giant man and the kangawrong wrapped twine, placed parts, and adjusted angles, until finally -

“If I could have your attention PLEASE!” Commanded the croco-diamond. “Is the spoon situated?”

And though he could see it was, as it was right in front of him, he insisted the kangawrong give a little HOP! that it was situation.

“And the flip flop fastened?”

HOP!

“The twine…er…twound?”

HOP!

“The mitten positioned?”

HOP!

“Then by my order, as a croco-diamond, leader of this mission, and member of the royal order of this croco-ttalion…”

He had made that up, actually, but thought it sounded official.

“…on this day, at this particular time…”

He checked the position of the sun then referred to his piece of paper to make sure they were right on time.

“…for the mission on which we’ve embarked, for the good people of the oceans, here after referred to by their formal name, of which the name is and shall be the whitey biteys, of the genus charcharodon whitemous…”

He noticed that perhaps the giant man and kangawrong were becoming a bit bored, so he decided to skip the part of his speech about the dorsality and chillianisimmi of the whitey biteys and get on with the mission.

“I hereby command, ye there forward kangawrong, the preparing for, and, ye, the commencement of…”

And with that the kangawrong hopped high up onto the flip flop (a bit early but the croco-diamond excused the poor thing for being nervous and resolved to finish his speech later, at dinner, there were at least 10 more pages left). The flip flop side of the zippy shoe skate, correction, the kangapult, hit the wharf, which shuddered with a wooden creak brrrm. The spoon shot into the air and the mitten in its bowl arced gracefully up, up in the air, flying! In flight!

And then landed rather anticlimactically on the croco-diamond’s snout.

The kangawrong’s ears fell flat. Its eyes went PLOCK PLOCK.

“One moment, I’m checking the plan…” The croco-diamond shuffled through his papers, muttering, “But, but I’m GOOD at physics.”

And suddenly an ocean wind blew across the croco-diamond’s nose, carrying the mitten off the wharf! And into the water!

“Quick! Quick!” shouted the croco-diamond. “We must…”

Just then a triangular fin broke the surface. And a rotund head with two black eyes popped up, bearing a mouth full of boy that’s a lot of teeth, and looked at all who stood on the wharf. The creature slipped a fin into the mitten and disappeared again beneath the water.

“As I was, ahem, saying, we must have included some extra steps in the plan which, in the interest of efficiency, I now think we can eliminate.”

He gestured with his front foot at the kangawrong.

 “Carry on with the plan.”

my family weighs in on my book

Tonight I was talking to my mom about a new sub-plot idea I had (which produced good results - my mom suggested that the croco-diamond develop a new product with the Italiani because it really bothered her that I didn't write anything about him getting paid for the squished termaters). I said "I think this could be like shrek" (full disclosure - I've watched about 10 minutes of shrek, which was the most I could stand before being insanely bored, but I've heard it's popular and it seems to be about a bunch of made up shit, like my book). And my mom said "this is better than shrek". Hee.

Then, in procrastination mode, trying to finish my next chapter, I sent an email to my brother Bob:

I've just put the kangawrong, who injured his feet robbing the ton-o-tap, in an adjustable zippy shoe skate with a paddle to propel it.

Am I going insane?

He responded:

probably.  but it was scientifically interesting to me to watch the Hindenburg burn.  Some of us are kinda weird.

I would have put the kangawrong in a position where it stepped in the glue and something large and heavy stuck to its feet.  Something that would have been funny in the context of the plot, like spare tires or palates of produce or something ridiculous.  Then, the croc might have to use the crutches for something like dragging the kanga inadvertently to a soap box race, where tires from the truck (stuck somehow to the kanga) made the contraption work and they won the derby.

Bizarre, yeah.  Engineering, no.  But I still think it would be funny.

Perhaps I should write my next book with my brother. For the record, I will not be gluing tires to the kangawrong.

madly writing!!!! chapter 6

I don't know if it will be possible but I'm really going to try to finish my book so I can enter it in the children's book contest in 8 days. No pressure!!!!

But I'm working away.

Chapter 6:  The Croco-diamond Behaves Badly

After finishing breakfast that morning, the giant man suggested that all go out to the barn to get the cringle crisps ready to be loaded into the ton-o-tap.

“But that’s quite impossible,” said the croco-diamond. “I’ve just had my nails done.”

“You could wear your gloves.” The giant man was surprised at the croco-diamond’s response. Usually he wanted nothing more than to be around cringle crisps.

“No, no I’m afraid that won’t work because…they’ve gone…missing.”

And the giant man saw that they were missing, as well as his new bandana, a pair of his shoes, a pot of cactar jam, the kitchen towel, and a spatula. “What would a cloud possibly want with a spatula?” he muttered to himself.

Then he noticed, that while he had been looking around, that the kangawrong and croco-diamond had gone missing too.

“I hope the clouds haven’t gotten you two!” He called out. But there was no response.

An hour later the ton-o-tap driver was leaving the giant man’s farm when he saw a curious sight. It appeared to be…a walking bandana? With very large shoes that didn’t fit?? On crutches??? And the, well, he guessed it was the head though it was covered up with the bandana, seemed to be wearing…

…a fedora????

As he slowed to get a better look, the walking bandana flagged him down with a crutch. The driver stopped and opened the door to the ton-o-tap. Just then a…sticky kitchen towel? Wielding a giant spatula?? in its gloved hands commanded “Unlock the ton-o-tap! Or I shall spat you with my spatula!”

Speechless, and, certainly confused, the driver walked to the back of the ton-o-tap. The kitchen towel waved the spatula threateningly behind him, or perhaps it was adjusting itself. The bandana clomped behind, tripping over its shoes and making a quiet HIP HIP noise as it walked.

The driver unlocked the ton-o-tap and in a sudden move the kitchen towel threw itself over the driver’s head. Due to the stickiness of the towel the driver could not get it unstuck from his head. Though, it did smell pleasantly of cactar jam, which the driver often put on his morning toast.

A ruckus seemed to be going on inside the truck. He could hear frantic munching and chaotic crunching. The driver yelled out “Help me! Help me! I’ve been attacked by a towel and now I’m all sticky!”

Well of course the giant man came. And was surprised to find his missing shoes and spatula. And puzzled to find the driver with a towel on his head. And curious as to why the tip of his bandana was hanging out of the back of the ton-o-tap. And intrigued to know what, exactly, was going on in there.

Gently swinging open the doors, he discovered…

What he had been worried to discover.

The croco-diamond was laying on baskets in a cringle crisp coma. His eyes were half shut, his mouth full of uneaten crisps, and his entire body was covered in crumbs. The fur of the kangawrong had dusty purple patches from the crushed cringle crisps, and it had nervously hopped with its extraordinarily large feet all over the back of the ton-o-tap, crushing baskets and crisps until all that now remained were teeny tiny pieces.

The giant man knew he should say something.

So he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh dear.”

chapter 5 of the cringle crisp book

Just finished chapter 5. A guy in my writer's group recommended I enter a children's book contest sponsored by NAESP. Which means I have to finish this book by 28 February because the submission deadline is 1 March. Yikes!

Chapter 5:  The Giant Man Makes an Announcement Which Displeases the Croco-diamond

With the three working together the production of the giant man’s farm increased tremendously. All were very happy to work and all enjoyed the evenings when they ate dinner together. The croco-diamond would often tell stories of his jewels, the kangawrong would show a new hopping step just invented, and the giant man would lecture on cultivation when the other two performers had exhausted their shows.

But, strange things still continued to happen. As an example, one morning the croco-diamond woke up to find someOne or someThing had devised a jewel cleaner from a discarded toothbrush of the giant man. The bristles had been cut perfectly to get into the crevices between the jewels and the handle was just such a length as to make sure not a single spot on the croco-diamond’s sparkling spine was missed.

Also, the cringle crisps continued to go missing. With the discovery of each empty basket the croco-diamond would stare up at sky.

“They are becoming more devious,” he would say to the giant man. “Today there was not one cloud to be seen. Yet…” He pointed to the five empty baskets of cringle crisps. “It’s quite easy for them to be sneaky because it’s so hard to catch a cloud.”

And while those were the normal strange things, one more thing was observed by the giant man. Though the kangawrong was given plates and plates of cringle crisps, it still seemed a bit underweight. And though the croco-diamond worked almost every day in the field, he was, and this is not said unkindly, getting a bit fat.

But mostly the giant man was not consumed with strange things. Instead he thought of his new plan which, when the time was right, on the evening of a day that had been particularly productive regarding the making of cringle crisps, he revealed to the kangawrong and the croco-diamond.

“I have some very exciting news!” he said as all relaxed in the courtyard. The croco-diamond stirred in his hammock and the kangawrong stopped polishing the croco-diamond’s nails. They looked at the giant man expectantly.

“Tomorrow you shall sit for a portrait,” said the giant man to the croco-diamond, who happily began to floss his teeth. “We are getting boxes for the cringle crisps.”

“Why that’s splendid!” said the croco-diamond. Finished flossing, he stretched himself out in the hammock to see how flat he could make his belly. “Success is about marketing. With pictures of me.”

“And then a ton-oh-tap-tap will come here, to the farm.”

“A ton-oh-tap-tap?”

“Yes! You see all these cringle crisps?” The giant man pointed to the baskets in the courtyard, there must have been at least 40, and then the baskets in the barn, which must have been hundreds. “They will be taken by a ton-oh-tap-tap to a distributor.”

At this news the kangawrong stopped squishing buggallies and did a celebratory hop hop where its feet slapped mid-air, making a clap. The croco-diamond, however, frowned.

“And sold in stores!” The giant man was so happy he threw his hands in the air, hitting his umbrell-ears and causing them to go askew.

“But, what do you mean…stores?” The croco-diamond asked angrily.

“Well, stores. Like the stores you shopped in. Fancy stores. With…with comestibles.”

“But, but stores are expensive.” The croco-diamond raised himself up in the hammock. “Do you propose to take cringle crisps away from the common people? I do not think we should give our supply of cringle crisps, the dietary staple of the common people, to stores.”

“But I…I thought you would be happy. Your…your picture next to other fine comestibles…” The giant man was puzzled, and the croco-diamond’s reaction to his wonderful announcement made him sad.

As for the croco-diamond, he was confused. He wanted his picture on cringle crisp boxes next to all the other fine comestibles, such as Pear-a-mon Raincoat Cookies, Heritage Nutter Sticks, and Creamy Candy Moos. But he also heard a quiet voice inside his head chanting keepy cringle crispies! Keepy cringle crispies!

“I just wonder are we being too hasty. Really, is it necessary to give away all the cringle crisps? Should we not save some for the common people? The people at the market? Whose entire life, perhaps, will be upended and, most probably, destroyed without an affordable cringle crisp?”

The giant man suddenly felt unsure of his plan. “Well, we can make more for the market. And I can’t cancel the ton-oh-tap-tap for tomorrow. It’s already paid for. We…we’ll come up with a solution.”

The croco-diamond did not seem to be listening to the giant man at all. Instead he picked up his jewel cleaner and began to polish his spine for the next day’s portrait. Though he didn’t seem to be paying attention to the polishing. And was repeating something under his breath that sounded, to the giant man, like keepy cringle crispies. Keepy cringle crispies.

Unsure what to do about the croco-diamond’s mood, the giant man asked the kangawrong to help him move the baskets in the courtyard to the barn. He locked the barn door, something rarely, to be honest never, done, just in case there were clouds nearby, waiting to steal the cringle crisps after all had gone to sleep.

But not all slept. That night, in his hammock, the croco-diamond muttered many things which made no sense to the kangawrong, who curled uneasily under the frequently shifting hammock. It did hear something like “plan, a plan, must…make…plan” and a bit later “perhaps, perhaps with crutches, oh, but where will I ever find crutches” before it fell asleep.

The next morning, on waking, the croco-diamond was surprised to find, next to his hammock, a pair of crutches fashioned out of oakal boughs cut the year before by the giant man. They were carefully wrapped with twine and by all appearances looked like official crutches.

The croco-diamond quietly hid them in the bramble shrubs at the edge of the courtyard, careful not to wake the kangawrong. Then he looked up into the sky.

“Clouds?”

The clouds, if they were listening, didn’t answer.

“It’s the only possible explanation. Yes. It must be the clouds.” A solitary tear developed in the croco-diamond’s eye. “I thank you.”

Then he stood at the edge of the courtyard, sketching something in the dirt that, to a keen observer, appeared to be a plan.