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i need a little space
11/08/2008 = 04:05 AM

I love my sweet babboo, Andy, to pieces.

Aside from the fact that he is the hottest hottie comedian-who-happens-to-juggle, who also spins plates, eats fire, smokes fine cigars, drinks fine rum, and collects obscure recordings of Louie Louie*, he and his amazingly patient wife gave That Man of Mine and me an option to get us out of the morass that was the Connecticut economy, and a place to stay whilst establishing ourselves into the Nevada economy.

We have now done that, and it has taken a fraction of the time we spent searching for jobs in Connecticut to find jobs in Nevada. Even with their own unemployment rate at an all-time high, jobs are to be had here, if you're willing to put in the effort.

So That Man of Mine and I are ready to take our belongings out from under Andy's feet and put them into our own space.

I should say, those belongings we still have.

Because, aside from all of our belongings that are still in storage, some (like my Crock-Pot, my George Foreman grill, and my dishes, pans, and utensils) were given away to neighbors because we didn't have room in the car and we "could always replace them later" (this was said by That Man of Mine, who clearly assumed that we would have money to do so at the same time that we would have the need to do so, which is not actually the case, since we're going to have to put down some kind of security deposit, which is going to wipe us out again), and others (like my only white bra that fit, and my three huge bath sheets that were the most absorbent, warm, cozy towels I have ever owned) were forgotten by That Man of Mine because he had already sent me up to the car to "watch our stuff" while he was packing the rest of the house, and he forgot to empty the dryer.

The point is, when I say we're starting from scratch, we are. Literally.

I have neither the desire, the will, or the lack of pride left in me to make another "beg blog." I'm just starting to build up my self-esteem again and I don't feel like regressing.

We will get by without what we can't pick up at Goodwill or Deseret, until we can afford to get other things from Tarjzay and le Mart du Wal. However, if anyone in the greater Las Vegas area is reading this and has, for instance, a spare Corningware casserole big enough for me to make a lasagna in, and feels like taking pity on me, I will accept your pity and your casserole, and I will invite you over to eat the first lasagna I prepare in it.

And that's quite enough of that.

I will feel much better when I can give Andy and his wife (who has been forced to put up with That Man of Mine for far longer than any woman who hasn't signed on for life) their space back, and to have my own space again.

Space.

That brings me to all the interesting, historical changes that have taken place over the past week.

We have a new president-elect** and we should all, at this point, no matter whether or not he was your first choice, be saying, "Put me in, coach. I'm ready to play today. Look at me. I can be centerfield."

He may be in charge and all, but we're the team, and if we win, we'll all be heroes.

And that brings me back to space.

I have heard it said, about fifty bazillion times by about fifty bazillion people, many of whom know whereof they speak, that we have no business going into space without fixing what's wrong with our planet first.

I am hereby stating that, in my opinion, we can fix some of what's wrong with our planet BY going into space, and I am hoping our new president-elect, once he is in office, will pay attention to this and make sure steps are taken to put it into effect, because it — hold on to your socks, kids, I'm about to knock them off — makes sense.

Without going all astrophysics or geology on your weekendy brains, I'm going to talk about helium-3.

Don't bother to click that link unless you feel like learning more than what I'm going to be spelling out in people-talk (as opposed to science talk) here. It's Saturday, for pizza's sake.

Anyway, helium-3 is not the same kind of helium you inhale when you empty a balloon into your mouth, so you can sing Rhinestone Cowboy and make people laugh. It's a different isotope (which is just pocket-protectorese for "type").

There's not a whole lot of helium-3 on Earth. Which is a shame, because you can do nuclear fusion with helium-3. This is important, because unlike other nuclear reactions, helium-3 fusion is less dangerous, produces little to no nuclear waste, and a little goes a long way.

Why is this important?

Power, team. A whole lot of relatively inexpensive power that doesn't drain our remaining planetary resources.

Because there's so little helium-3 on Earth, it's kind of costly even to experiment with it, let alone put it to work.

However, there's an almost limitless supply of it on our moon. Specifically, embedded in the regolith, which is pocket-protectorese for "surface crust."

What we spend, to send a shuttle to the moon, scoop up some regolith, and bring it back home to extract the helium-3, will be made back in relatively little time by what we save in creating enough inexpensive electricity to power, pretty much, the entire planet. For a long, long, long-assed time.

And if you don't care about the planetary effect (in terms of pollution and carbon-printing and wasting fossil fuels), just think about what effect that will have a) on our dependence on foreign oil, which is certainly affecting your pockets, b) on our electric bills, which are ridiculously, stupidly high, and c) on our morale as a nation. Our dollar is so bad the Canadians are apologizing to us.

Don't you want to feel like we're the best place in the world to live, again? I know I do.

Mr. President-elect, do not squander the opportunity you've been given. You have a lot to accomplish in the next four years, and you can't assume you're going to be handed the next four after that if you don't get it all done now. Make sure we get back to the moon to pick up some helium-3. I can't speak for everyone, but I promise I'll do whatever I have to do to help. Okay?

This may not be the race for all the marbles, but it's the space race for the one big blue marble that counts most.

(Jack Schmitt***, if you're out there, I still have a crush on you, all these years later.)

* Which, for some reason, I always type the first time as "Louie Louis" and then have to edit.

** And, for the first time in eight years, we knew who that person was right away, rather than having to wait several weeks for recounts because someone was expecting a fix to go in his favor — twice — and was shocked to see that it hadn't.

*** Harrison "Jack" Schmitt was the lunar module pilot for Apollo 17. He was the first combination pilot/scientist to make a space trip, and he set the standard ... we don't even send a mission to space anymore without stocking the shuttle with eggheads. Schmitt was Sulu and Scotty, but mostly, he was Spock, and there's something pretty awesome about that.

Tags: space program; helium-3

drinking: ice water
listening to: nothing
today's agenda: must. have. eyebrows. done. looking like abe vigoda, who is still alive, even though michael crichton isn't