Instead of sending Abby to day care school all summer, we have elected instead to send her to the school's summer camp.

The program is pretty nice. We drop her off at school in the morning as usual. A bus picks takes the campers from her school to the camp for the day, and brings them back to the school in the afternoon. We pick her up just like we would on a school day.

Campers need to be at school before the bus leaves, obviously. Our first day for this was on Monday. We were under the impression from the paperwork that the bus would depart at 8:15, which is well within our usual schedule.

The trick is that the bus driver or the school or someone decided that 8:15 wasn't early enough to get the kids all the way to the camp (which is admittedly pretty far), and so the departure time was changed to 8:05.

So when we arrived at the school on Monday, I existed the car thinking we had plenty of time. When the bus started to pull out and one of the teachers started screaming to us from the school door, "Get on the bus! Get on the bus!" I was left running to the road to flag down the driver.

Abby didn't seem to know what to make of the whole thing. I hurried her along, and didn't even have a chance to say anything to her before her new camp adventure began.

What irks me about this experience is that when we pulled into the parking lot, several of the parents of the other kids going to camp were standing on the school's little roofed stoop. They all seemed to know, why didn't we?

More unnerving was that it was every parent at the school that I had grown to dislike. It was as if someone reached into my brain, pulled out the names of the parents I've come to dislike at Abby's school, and lined them up on the sidewalk outside the school's front door.

And only lends to my perception that those people care nothing for me or my kid, to the extent that they can't even make polite conversation about the departure time for the bus.

Apparently, I had made an impression with the running and screaming, since a sign appeard on the school's front door on Tuesday morning: Bus to camp departs at 8:05, not 8:15.

You know, you don't need to send me a telegram. You could have just told me.

Abby seemed to like camp well enough on Monday. Tuesday was a slightly different story, when one of the other kids pushed her into the deep end of the pool, and she had to be pulled out by a lifeguard. While Berta and I were most concerned about her safety, Abby seemed really depressed by her demotion from "frog" to "tadpole" in their swimming exercises as a result of the incident.

I was under the impression that "tadpole" implied "can't yet hold breath under water", which Abby can surely do. And while I would afford her the additional protection of the shallower end of the pool when she's still not a strong swimmer, I wouldn't throw her in with the waders who are still afraid to put their faces in the water. It's been a real and obvious blow to her self esteem.

Would that I could follow and protect her everywhere.

You might want to call your Congressman regarding the upcoming (Thursday) bill and voice your opinions on broadcast flags and network neutrality.

One Saturday, I was hosting our weekly game of D&D at our house. We were lounging in the living room after the game session when the doorbell rang.

Under the porch lamp I found my dad, who said he had stopped by to tell me one thing or another - the details were unimportant - and that was all. I thanked him and closed the door, returning to my friends.

"Who was that?" they asked, curious. None of them had ever met my dad before.

I told them who was at the door, and they sat momentarily quiet, pondering. "Where is he from?" they asked.

I took a swig of my soda and replied, unthinking, "Denver."

I did not understand the silence that fell upon the room. "What?" I asked.

"That's cold, dude. Your dad came all the way from Denver, you could have at least invited him inside."

Ah, the confusion abated. "No- Denver, Pennsylvania. Near Reading." This was only a 45 minute drive, and it was likely that my dad had other business in the area since he had not called before stopping with his news.

We continued with our talk of the evening regarding orcs and attacks of opportunity.

This is a first, because usually I ineffectually nominate myself for these things in an attempt to bolster my own self-worth. I wasn't paying attention when I was nominated as a Philly Future featured blog.

Philly Future is what I consider the epicenter for my Philly readings. Disclosure: I'm not actually a resident of Philadelphia. I live in the suburbs (Downingtown) where I can shake my head and sigh as the city news flies by in Philly Future posts. Of course, the state and national issues are of interest to me (especially things like net neutrality), and the entertainment announcements are helpful in deciding what to do on the weekends.

If you're stopping by for the first time as a result of the vote, let me give you a brief rundown of essential details of the blog. I've been blogging since November of 1999. I typically blog about whatever comes to mind, as such Asymptomatic is typically not a good candidate for awards because I'm never focused enough. However, as Albert points out in his nomination of my site, I think the commentary is what makes the site worth notice.

In spite of having over 2000 posts logged, there are 5600+ comments here. Of course all of the frequently commented posts are the controversial ones, and I warn you that without knowing me better (at least by reading posts more regularly) you might find them odd or even off-putting. But I'm sneaky because I often write posts to promote that reaction.

You can find a sampling of "best of" posts on my five-year anniversary post.

If you're wondering where the posts are, try clicking the tags you'll find at the top-right and to the right of this post to see some more navigable links. I like to keep things tidy here.

Also, You should really check out the other two nominees for featured blog, Amen, the Gospel According to Wook and Starting a Landslide in my Ego, who are putting on a good show. Possibly better than me, really, depending on the kind of thing you like to read.

But after that, you need to vote for me.

Philly Future requires a login to vote. You can register very easily using the appropriate link under the photo at the top of their site. After you've registered, return to the voting page to vote!

I picked up this book, Kushiel's Scion, to have something to read while the TV was unhooked, and I finished it on Friday night.

Kushiel's Scion follows the adolescence of Prince Imriel nó Montrève de la Courcel (accenting omitted because I don't want to start a trend), who is the adopted son of Phèdre nó Delaunay, Kushiel's Chosen.

Maybe I should back up a bit.

This book is the fourth written by Jaqueline Carey in this specific world of historical fantasy. The first three books in the Kushiel's Legacy series - Kushiel's Dart, Kushiel's Chosen, and Kushiel's Avatar - were all about Phèdre, Imriel's adopted mother. Imriel actually appears in the third book as a child that Phèdre rescues from this terrible place called Daršanga, where everyone is excessively tortured for the pleasure of its ruler, the Mahrkagir. In this new book, Imriel is Kushiel's Scion (perhaps?), and the story is told in his voice rather than Phèdre's.

There is a good bit I like about the stories. For whatever reason, I've grown an attraction to Carey's storytelling, even if it is a little flowery for my tastes. I'll simply attribute that to the nature of the people who are the main characters in her stories.

If this book has a flaw, it's that it recounts the tales of the first three books far too often. I think that the other books in the series could stand on their own if they had to. By comparison, you cannot read Kushiel's Scion and appreciate it as well, because it seems as though Imriel is always recounting one of Phèdre's stories to someone. That's fine, but it doesn't do a lot for his story, which unfolds over the course of the book. I found myself constantly waiting for him to remove himself from the protection of the Montreve household and venture out on his own.

But overlooking that, the book offers a lot. The world that Carey sets here is quite beautiful. Very much it exists in fantasy, but it is very real and alive in her mind, and you can tell. You can even imagine that the places that people allude to in the book have rich histories, even if they are only mentioned in passing. Evidence of this exists in the multitude of Wikipedia entries for the Kushiel books.

My favorite parts of the book are when Imriel finally does get out on his own, and starts to become involved in affairs in Tiberium. I enjoyed his sessions with Claudia, and they left myself yearning for my own lessons in covertcy (also known as "spycraft"). And no, to you who have read the book, I do not mean that in the dirty way that you're thinking. Well, ok, fine, that wouldn't be so bad either.

As always, the central myth of Elua and his precept, Love as thou wilt, is personally very alluring. Being able to make decisions, as the characters in the book did, using mostly this ideal would make for quite the perfect rationale. I think it's details such as these that really help with understanding the motivations of the people in the novel, and give the whole story coherency and credibility.

The basics of the plot show Imriel growing into manhood on Phèdre's family estate. While travelling to court to entertain the queen's desires, some notice arrives that Imriel's mother (a traitor throughout the first three books - and there I've just ruined them for you) has escaped her self-imposed imprisonment/sanctuary and can't be found. Some aspersions are cast on Imriel at court which he finds difficult to reconcile in his adolescent mind, and he wonders about his inner desires, which conflict with the terrible deeds done to him in Daršanga.

There is a complex web of marriages and alliances that sends Imriel to Tiberium where he takes up study with his friend Eammon, and meets some new allies. There is some trouble during his new friend's weeding that causes Imriel to really come into his own.

Throughout the story Imriel is unsure of his desires, whether it's for the queen's daughter, Sidonie, or for the Tiberium Senator's wife, Claudia. He searches for answers to some questions left unanswered by Phèdre in the first three books, and comes away with some success.

Thankfully, the end is left open for another book. Hopefully there will continue to be more in this series.

I really enjoyed reading Kushiel's Scion, and recommend the series if you're into fantasy.