The word of the day: Infundibulum.  Makes me think of a doddering old man who rambles on about things.  It turns out it’s what attaches your hypothalamus to your pituitary gland in your brain.  But really now: infundibulum?  Who named it that (Sure, the Latin root means a funnel, but still)

This weekend is the start of fleet week here in the San Francisco.  It’s also Thanksgiving weekend back in Canada.  I will be making pumpkin pie and watching bits of the air show.

Today, the Blue Angels (like our Snow Birds) are doing circle loops of the city to say hello.

They’ll be practicing tomorrow, then Saturday is the big show.  I’m hoping to catch bits of it from home like I’m doing today.  I keep trying to snap a picture of them flying by, but so far I haven’t been fast enough.

Some of you may know, I’ve been trying to get myself an ITIN.  It’s like a social security number, except it means I can’t work, but still have to pay taxes.  I want one because it means I can open a savings account.  But when I went to the IRS today (after finally getting my paperwork together), they say that I *still* can’t get one until I file my taxes.  Ridiculous.  I don’t even know if I will be able to file taxes because I CAN’T OPEN A SAVINGS ACCOUNT WITHOUT THE STUPID NUMBER!  It’s a ridiculous catch 22 that pisses me off to no end.

Dear America,

Why won’t you let me earn some interest on my money so that I can pay you taxes?

I didn’t think this would be so hard.



Les sighs.