It's around about this time of year that I start thinking Adam and Eve REALLY screwed up.
--Cashier checking out my tweezers at Walgreens
B.O.M.B.
(Back On My Bullshit)
Highly suspicious! Thank you, Google Maps, for facilitating my espionage campaign on yet another ~possible vestry.~
shelomit reblogged
The last time this video was doing the rounds, I had to go to Orleans in the middle of the winter. This year, I've got to go to Edgartown. What gives?
Since the endocrinologist's office was out of English-language brochures, I was informed that typical complications of my condition include ¡pérdida de esperanza!
Probably did some accidental avodah zarah at the Telugu festival today, BUT my eggplant was well-received at the potluck so all continues fair in love and war (and events that your friend invited you to in the understanding that said friend would act as translator/cultural attache but then that friend had to fly to San Diego on short notice so they left you to go ALL BY YOURSELF).
Drat--I should have sold the Vaughns on my tourist T-shirt concept "I Fell through the Floor at Piney Grove Singing" when I had the chance!
Feeling extremely uninspired re: going to New York singing this weekend, but have already gone grocery shopping. Guess who just committed to eating an entire cauliflower lasagna by herself?
#*ridiculous endocrinological woes permitting#ye lovely social band#I was in problem-solving mode of:#oh I can drive to the Darien station where parking's cheap#and then get on the same MNR train with the New Haven people#but then realized that I Extremely Did Not Want to Do any of that.#much less while carrying a lasagna.#out of the stacks#masquerading as a responsible adult
(informational image for I-95 drivers)
shelomit reblogged
Whenever I'm put into a new academic environment* I have an immediate stress response of guarding my modes of expression, not yet certain how closely we're tacitly agreeing to hew to the written conventions of our various disciplines. It's a process that actively freaks me out when (in particular) I'm surrounded by people who invest more than theory than I do. That accounts for. . . most people in most academic environments, I think.
Anyway, I should just settle down. It took less than three full days of seminar for one of us to contribute to a discussion on sensorial dimensions of the doctrine of corporeal resurrection (glossing everybody's favorite Puritan gravestone inscription**) by way of walking around in a exaggerated "oh lawd he comin" style. Keep in mind that most of us had elected to abandon our shoes in the plushy cemetery moss by this point, resulting in dramatic bare-foot-flapping. Conference-brain is already endemic to the populace.
*I picture myself as a chick lifted up by the disembodied hand of Funding from one chicken-wire-covered stock tank to be deposited in another that's full of foreign and untrustworthy chickens.
**My longstanding favorite, at least. "Friends and physicians could not save / This mortal body from a grave; / Nor could that grave confine it here / When Christ shall call me to appear." It's the subjunctive of it all that gets me, besides, you know, the exegetically undeniable "oh lawd he comin" of it.
@wordsaredelicious said: It sounds like you have been having a GRAND time in at least one cemetery, and I am delighted on your behalf!
(◠‿◠✿) If it helps, this was a proper burial-ground-on-the-common situation, so our tomfoolery was also a source of entertainment to passing downtown business-y types.
@bringmemyrocks said: My side gig is with chickens so I appreciate the imagery
Whenever I'm put into a new academic environment* I have an immediate stress response of guarding my modes of expression, not yet certain how closely we're tacitly agreeing to hew to the written conventions of our various disciplines. It's a process that actively freaks me out when (in particular) I'm surrounded by people who invest more than theory than I do. That accounts for. . . most people in most academic environments, I think.
Anyway, I should just settle down. It took less than three full days of seminar for one of us to contribute to a discussion on sensorial dimensions of the doctrine of corporeal resurrection (glossing everybody's favorite Puritan gravestone inscription**) by way of walking around in a exaggerated "oh lawd he comin" style. Keep in mind that most of us had elected to abandon our shoes in the plushy cemetery moss by this point, resulting in dramatic bare-foot-flapping. Conference-brain is already endemic to the populace.
*I picture myself as a chick lifted up by the disembodied hand of Funding from one chicken-wire-covered stock tank to be deposited in another that's full of foreign and untrustworthy chickens.
**My longstanding favorite, at least. "Friends and physicians could not save / This mortal body from a grave; / Nor could that grave confine it here / When Christ shall call me to appear." It's the subjunctive of it all that gets me, besides, you know, the exegetically undeniable "oh lawd he comin" of it.
Ishmael: and some churches get very snippy if you climb them to look at their whale-shaped weather vanes
*I roll up to the Second Baptist Church of Sanbornton, New Hampshire, with a ladder strapped precariously to the roof of my Honda Accord*
Guys. Guys. Back when I was on the ground in Beverly (at its uniquely unfriendly municipal historical society, that is--not the welcoming Indian restaurant to which I have many times returned) I drove forlornly around town looking for this precise building. I had seen a brilliant late-1870s photograph of it, at which point it was serving its original purpose on Cabot Street as the vestry of the First Baptist Church. On Cabot Street I found it not, presumed it to be yet another victim of time and/or fire, and trekked my way back out of Beverly.
Today I was snooping on a different Beverly church, Dane Street Congregational, which confoundingly enough changed names to "Anchor Bay" sometime between now and when I was last checking up on it in 2017ish. Cue me dialing it up on Google Street View and discovering that exact elusive Baptist vestry (/school, armory, G.A.R. assembly hall, etc.) directly next door, having at some historical juncture migrated three blocks north and one east from Cabot to Dane!
Naturally I want to get my grimy little hands and my hundred-foot tape measure on this building. What were the odds, I wondered, that I could talk my way in? So I zoomed back out, and. . .
. . .do you think the building inspector will let me inspect his building?
shelomit reblogged
Also there were mystery (curcubit-looking???) seedlings at the Brazilian grocery for $1 so I, uh. Own them now.
@amethystineprose said: I see giant zucchini in your future.
Now that one of them has put on his big-boy leaves I'm more inclined to think nightshade, actually:
. . .of course, that could just be my residual childhood fear of zucchini talking.
I know I publicly shamed our local groundhog for refusing to eat the leftover radishes I generously offered her last fall, but recently I've been boasting on her to my boss. She may have selective tastes, but she eats what we give to her and stays (mostly) in the pit at the end of the yard. My boss's neighborhood's groundhog, on the other hand, seems only to savor the most forbidden of fruits. This afternoon the vermit was finally apprehended and talk of groundhog gravy has been circulating in the project Slack channel.
Nothing was biting at the lake today (except for the first mosquitoes of the season :P), but these flowers made up for it a little.