Note: This entry went in a totally different direction than where I thought I was headed! It got very long, and wandered around a lot. I got into something that’s really been eating at me for a long time, though, and I’d really appreciate some feedback.
I should have my microphone taken away. I recorded several more poems for some reason, but haven’t posted them anywhere because I really love hearing them with the music Sam adds. His editing expertise always makes me sound much better, too! Sam got me worried about copyright issues, which is why I haven’t posted them to Live Readings yet.
I miss readings. Live gatherings of people, closely or loosely connected, who come together to share passages of prose or poetry with each other. Not the sort where people get up at a podium, or an event arranged for a particular author, just friends and acquaintances sharing the joy of the word. If there are authors in the group who share passages of whatever they’re working on, so much the better! If not, well, there’s a wealth of material out there that just begs to be heard, that cannot be fully appreciated on the page. I owe my discovery of G.K. Chesterton to such a group, and a renewed interest in Mark Twain. Continue reading “Readings & Socializing”→
You know how sometimes people on your friend’s list post about stuff going on in their life, and all of a sudden you think “Wait a minute? Since when are they working THERE? Since when are they dating HIM/HER? since when???” And then you wonder how you could have missed all that seemingly pretty standard information, but somehow you feel too ashamed to ask for clarification because it seems like info you *should* already know? It happens to all of us sometimes.
If you want to play, just copy mine below, erase my answers, put yours in their place and then post it in your journal! Please elaborate on the questions that would benefit from elaboration! One-Word-Answers seldom help anyone out.
First Name: Cynthia or Cyn. Not Cindy. Age: 41 Location: Decatur, GA Occupation: Stay-at-home mom, student Partner(s): Sam Kids:Katie (17) is the only one at home. Sam’s kids, Rowan (19) and Genevieve (16) used to live with us. Pets:Kioshi, a two-year-old cat School: I’m currently attending online classes at DeVry University, studying for a bachelor’s degree in technology and management with a concentration in technical communications. Siblings: One sister and one brother, both younger than me, married, with kids. Parents: Alive and still married, they live one county away from us. Health: Can I skip this part? No? Darn. Okay, I’m disabled due to a combination of fibromyalgia (FMS), spondyloarthropathy, arthritis, chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS), myofascial pain syndrome (MPS), and migraines. I’m allergic to most of the natural world, too. List the 3 — 5 biggest things going on in your life:
I don’t subscribe to any at the moment, and I rarely buy them off the rack. I have hundreds of them in my stash, and I keep meaning to go through and just keep the designs I’m still planning to stitch, but I never get around to doing it! I stopped buying them because I realized that I haven’t ever stitched one single pattern in any of those hundreds of magazines. Continue reading “SBQ: Stitching Publications”→
The takeaway is: Don’t trust anyone. Grown-ups will lie to you and try to make you feel bad. The world sucks even worse than you thought it did. Guidance counselor Lori Tauber defended the exercise: “They were traumatized, but we wanted them to be traumatized. That’s how they get the message.”
These are professional educators, and they are comfortable with the following pedagogic theory: Trauma is good for kids. It’s an effective teaching tool. Why not teach American literature the same way? Harpoon a real whale and watch it die — “Moby-Dick” brought to life! They’ll remember that.
Maybe they’ll want to join Greenpeace too. Two lessons for the price of one dead whale! And then the “dead” whale could wake up and make a moving speech at assembly.
Are we that alienated from the adolescents in our midst? Do we think that their feelings don’t matter, that almost anything is justified in pursuit of making sure they get a Life Lesson? Are we that cruel? Apparently we are — a majority of the parents in Oceanside thought there was nothing wrong with this little experiment. Shake those kids up a little.
Gypsum, a rocky mineral is abundant in desert regions where fresh water is usually in very short supply but oil and gas fields are common. Writing in International Journal of Global Environmental Issues, Peter van der Gaag of the Holland Innovation Team, in Rotterdam, The Netherlands, has hit on the idea of using the untapped energy from oil and gas flare-off to release the water locked in gypsum.
Chemically speaking, gypsum is calcium sulfate dihydrate, and has the chemical formula CaSO4.2H2O. In other words, for every unit of calcium sulfate in the mineral there are two water molecules, which means gypsum is 20% water by weight.
van der Gaag suggests that a large-scale, or macro, engineering project could be used to tap off this water from the vast deposits of gypsum found in desert regions, amounting to billions of cubic meters and representing trillions of liters of clean, drinking water.
That is so cool! And not the kind of thing I expect to read in the Medical News Today newsletter. There’s always something interesting in it, though. This was also in it.
Body clocks determine whether people are early birds or late risers, “homebodies” or “party animals”. As Professor Hanspeter Herzel (Institute for Theoretical Biology, Humboldt University Berlin, Germany) now reported at the international conference “Computational & Experimental Molecular Biology” in Berlin, Germany, these biological watches not only regulate the sleep-wake cycle, but also blood pressure and blood temperature. “They are controlled by a master clock which consists of 20,000 neurons in the brain,” Professor Herzel illuminated, “where they operate together to adapt us to the changing demands of day and night.”
So much for those idiots who think that being a morning person is a character issue.
I must have slept wrong. My right arm isn’t working properly. It’s annoying.
But Sam fixed a great breakfast (yes, on Father’s Day). And we’ve got Firefly.
I’m tired. I spent entirely too much time over the last 48 hours futzing with the library part of this site.
The software I use to create that, Now Reading, automatically pulls images of book covers from Amazon whenever I add a book to the library. Amazon automatically sets affiliate links up that way, so they’ve already said they don’t mind (there are affiliate links to them on every page, so they are getting their traffic). I don’t usually hotlink to anything, but some companies actually prefer it.
For some reason, the images keep going away randomly. Some are for older books, but some are for fairly new releases, too. Amazon still has an image on their pages, but the graphics have moved on their servers.
I know they’ve tried to get their affiliates to use their dynamically-generated widgets, which would presumably update themselves when a file is moved. I don’t care. I want to link to specific items that I’ve read or want to read or want to talk about, not whatever their algorithms decide to link to.
Now I get to go through all 600+ books in the library, find images for their covers, save same to my server, and update the library records.
Well, sorta. Katie and I indulged in a Veronica Mars marathon tonight, watching most of two DVDs of episodes. It was a good thing to keep me occupied while doing a very, very boring technical chore. She was doing some mending, so it served the same kind of purpose for her. Sam’s been trying to get another chapter of Heart of the Hunter out.
The sweet man brought home pasta from Azio’s for dinner! Yummy. Their Fettuccine Alfredo is almost as good as his. It’s definitely an acceptable alternative, especially when it’s just too hot to do that much cooking at home.
Like primitives we buried the cat
with his bowl. Bare-handed
we scraped sand and gravel
back into the hole.
They fell with a hiss
and thud on his side,
on his long red fur, the white feathers
between his toes, and his
long, not to say aquiline, nose.
We stood and brushed each other off.
There are sorrows keener than these.
Silent the rest of the day, we worked,
ate, stared, and slept. It stormed
all night; now it clears, and a robin
burbles from a dripping bush
like the neighbor who means well
but always says the wrong thing.