Toxic slick: coming to a beach near you...er.. us.

Last Wednesday a container ship ran into the Bay Bridge, dumping 58,000 gallons of bunker fuel oil into the bay. As for the cause, it's being attributed to "human error," which is believable and there was some serious fog that morning, but honestly--it's not like those pylons are tiny and they're equipped with radar. It's scary to think of what the marine life is going to be like around here in the coming years. In the meantime, officials seem to have everything under control.

George continues to pluck away at the Rabbit without much luck. The fuel lines have been replaced with stronger, clear tubing so it won't degrade as quickly from the biodiesel and we can see if the fuel pump is actually getting fuel, which it is. This afternoon his focus is on the fuel pump and whether something is amiss with it; he bought the pump used, but (supposedly) resealed from a fellow on ... ebay? craigslist? and has since emailed him to see if he can shed any light on the subject. Or find out if he got ripped off. Whichever. We're hoping it'll magically get fixed by Tuesday night when we have to head to the airport to pick up Jesse!

Yesterday we spent our rainy afternoon listening to Agatha Christie podcasts. Last week I painted the underside of our loft (which is the ceiling for the dining area) and it ended up a greenish yellow that Geo describes as glow-in-the-dark paint that doesn't glow in the dark. That's pretty accurate. This week I'll paint our new window shelf and then take a few pictures so you can watch the evolution of our weird apartment.