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Month: April 2019

Sometimes the week brings oddities

When I went to less-frequent blogging I warned that you’ll never know what you’re going to get; it’s whatever the week brings. The following falls well into the “whatever” category. —– I was dead. It didn’t much matter, even to me, how, when, or why I died. I was simply done with that phase of my life and ready to move on. But move … how? Where? The afterlife I’d landed in was from no religion known to mankind. There were no harp-slinging angels. On the other hand, there were also no politicians being dangled by pitchfork-wielding demons over vats…


Friday Freedom Question: The last word(s)

Three weeks ago, (if you answered the Friday Freedom Question) you wrote the first lines of your autobiography. Now, if you’re willing, write the last words of your story. Very Brief Rulz: These can be the last words/lines/paragraphs of your autobiography or of a biography someone else writes about you after you’re gone. Writing “[He/she/they] lived happily ever after” would be cheating. As before, I’ll join in when I’ve thought about the question some more. I think this one’s going to be harder than the first line.


On the other hand, sometimes I almost regret my scrounging “triumphs”

I wrote moments ago about two glorious vintage sewing machines I got within the last few years for almost nothing. Like most of my scrounged or bargained purchases, they bring me only happiness. But occasionally … You may remember this door. I scrounged it out of a landfill four years ago this week. Well, finally I’m at the point of having a place to install it. But I think I’ve learned to hate it. Several summers ago, I spent hours — OMG HOURS! — outside stripping and scraping and sanding. When I stopped, it was still … shall we say,…


The joy of old machines

I’ve been reconditioning two old sewing machines this week. Not that “reconditioning” requires any skill. These are 1950s vintage — the apogee, the ne plus ultra of sewing machine tech and quality. These were machines designed to last until the heat death of the universe. “Reconditioning” has mostly meant degreasing, blowing out cobwebs, oiling, and educating myself. Each machine already ran as well as the day it was made. I discovered that each needed only one small part to make it fully operational. Given the ubiquity of these old machines, both parts were available for a few dollars on eBay,…


A lite little links post for a sunny Saturday

A historical guide to FOIA. Oil platform workers rescue a dog in a mindbendingly unbelievable place and take wonderful care of it. (H/T MtK) This dog rescue, on the other hand, evokes Stephen King. (Also H/T MtK) And since we’ve already added a creepy factor to our “lite” links, consider this: Dentistry is much less scientific than we’ve learned to think. Well, we now know the cause of Catholic priests diddling little boys and girls. The “swinging 60s” are to blame, pronounces ex-pope Benedict. And that’s not even the most bizarre of his pronouncements. Some background on unicorns — both…


A small announcement

I’m pleased (and rather surprised) to announce that Kit Perez and I have just signed a contract for an audiobook edition of Basics of Resistance. Tantor Media (Wikipedia entry, Tantor website) approached us and made us a nice, clean offer we had no desire to refuse. The bad news is that this will be a download edition only, no CD or DVD. The good news is that Tantor is big time in the audiobook field. In addition to reaching our usual market of individual buyers, Tantor goes deep into the library market. And if the download version is a success,…


A ramble from Notre Dame to the neighborhood of Montaigne

When NPR reported Notre Dame was on fire, unreality descended. I wouldn’t have been more shocked had they said the Statue of Liberty, Mount Rushmore, and the Golden Gate bridge all simultaneously crumbled to ruin. I felt like one of those people in the French crowds, gazing at the blaze in disbelief and mourning. But why? I’ve never been to France and have no connection with the country. I’ve never viewed the Cathedral of Notre Dame except in pictures (and movies and songs and literature). In fact, when we studied medieval cathedrals in Art History class, I concluded they were…


Transitions and Insane Clown Politics

The other day The Wandering Monk commented that even though he’s performed some of the biggest changes as Ye Olde Wreck transformed to Mo Saorise Hermitage, the house now seems “natural” to him. As if it’s the way it was meant to be. It’s true it’s getting harder to remember the utter horrorshow it was — the odor, the rot, the caved-in roof, the spiders and dead mice, the infamous not-a-garage, the corner of the bedroom that made us both back off from our labors with the simultaneous realization that the structure could fall on us. It’s now looking more…


You can’t stop the signal (and other brief end-of-week items)

The Wandering Monk completed his part of current projects early this afternoon, leaving a houseful of dust, construction rubble, and scattered tools. Also leaving me (happily) with lots more work to do. I’m looking forward to doing having done all that lovely finishing. I’m sore and beat now and still have had no time for Deep Reflections (though the Monk and I did have fun demolishing AOC and the latest authoritarian fantasy from her ally Beto O’Rourke). So for now, I leave you with other people’s thoughts, some of them more worthwhile than mine might be at the moment. —–…


The construction bug bites again

I feel as if I haven’t been holding up my end of the blogitude. After last Friday’s small (but challenging, don’t you think?) freedom question, I meant to post meatier content within a day or two. But the spring construction bug bit me. I’ve been even farther offline than usual the last five days, taping, mudding, and painting. Then The Wandering Monk became unexpectedly available for indoor projects (thank you rain, rain, rain). And we’ve been working on this: Those French doors (bought on some great sale, of course; never do it any other way) have been leaning against my…