Whenever I have cause to make a lamb shepherds pie I watch neurosurgery videos on youtube for company, while I am peeling and chopping. In contrast to “how to clean your make up brushes” the neurosurgery videos average 2-3 mins, except the one on prefrontal tuberculoma dating from 1933, which is in the 9 min range. The mechanics in that film are fascinating.
I like to point out that 2 mins is insufficient to peel and chop a bunch of carrots into strips.
I’m just saying ….
Neurosurgeons could you think of the carrot chopping factor and keep the camera rolling a bit ….
Usually at this time of year I am in full steam storm watching mode. My East-Coast amigas can expect emails inquiring of wind speeds and warning to bolt the barn door closed.
This year tho’ I have broadened my disaster horizons and am also watching local wildfires.
Here are the current wildfires of note (http://webmaps.gov.bc.ca/imf5/imf.jsp?site=pub_fireinfo)
There are currently 0 fires in the coastal region caused by lightening and 0 fires in coastal region caused by man. There have been 75 fires this year in the coastal region. There have been 647 fires in the Province so far this year. The total area burnt so far is 22,978 Ha. There were 5 new fires discovered today alone in the Province.
When the Burns Bog caught fire in 2005 it smelt like rural Ireland everywhere in the city.
If you want to see something astonishing: compare the map image of fires started by lightning in 2008 with 2009. 2009 looks like a lava lamp.
A mosquito, thoughtfully, bit me near my eye and I tossed a bag of sea soil all over myself. Blurry-soil-between- the-toes good name for a racehorse.
Mary Beth Knechtel’s book The Goldfish That Exploded made my Sunday. I laughed v loudly. I will share some snips shortly.
Today I made a serious investment in a spirit level (?). It shows that everything in this apartment is crooked except one Tin Tin picture and a few pieces of art that my partner hung up.
I’ve just had a frustrating, nay terminating, experience with Robertson (?) screws. To the bloke who insisted they’d change my life, au contraire. My relationship with Milton, Ontario has been irreparably damaged.
Is it a co-incidence that when such proclaimers call you “dear” they concurrently give you the wrong sized screw for the bloody anchor.
Screw Robertson, I am a Philips woman again.
I’ve gotten some helpful perspectives on Cabbagetown from other writers. I haven’t asked permission to quote them, so I’ll leave their names out for now. One explained fans of the work were “in awe of his daring in describing sexual violence, the nobility of poverty, the depravity of men, and savagery of casual misfortune.” Another writer suggested to visit some other texts of that time and to look up the back catalogues of Press Gang. I am glad for these exchanges because it gives me other ingredients to consider when I am reading, so thank you to those writers.
To read out is something I find satisfying, more so than writing out. I suppose I prefer to have whole units from which as reader I can inter-relate or read in opposition. Personally I don’t want to write to or from other writers, I want to write into whatever I am writing, a pneumnatic “into” that might shift or throw it’s own debris up. It’s also perhaps challenging for the reader because it insists on a claustrophobia, but I enjoy challenge as a reader and have incredible faith in readers (over publishers who make decisions about what we read, hark the digital age and the end of such limits!)
Some mornings are very noisy, there will be mornings someday when I will miss this noise.
I’ve just sown 72 seeds inside the new home made Greenhouse this indicates either long summer optimism or a 12 month “darkness” gardening cycle.
I’m thrilled with the new Greenhouse, it was an entirely hair (hare?) brained scheme, that would not be fit for public viewing but it’s a neat private world of coaxing and comfort.
Documentary on the history of video games. Pong & friends.