Archive | May, 2010

>Hoosier Hashcat?

31 May

>Natural prey of the over-20 tomcat: Roast Beef Hash. I had not fully realized this until breakfast today.

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>Memorial Day

31 May

>…Local Paper leads, of course, with auto race results; the TV network on my alarm clock was interviewing surviving WW II WASPs, a group that kinda got shoved under the carpet after the war (to the extent that you can do that to Jackie Cochran, anyway, which turned out to be rather a lot when a majority of the women fliers were after the “Mrs.” rating).

Not a whole lot about the fallen. It’s become trite to refer to all the lost warriors of all our wars as “heros.” Some even meet the cinematic criteria; most of ’em would have told you they were just doing their job, attention on the task at hand, “heroism” the farthest thing from their thoughts. They were there to do what needed to be done and fell in the doing — and, movies and novels aside, that’s heroism.

You and me, we’re not a network or a newspaper; we can take a little while to stop and remember; we can pause to acknowledge their effort and sacrifice.

If you do nothing else this Decoration Day, at least stop, step back from the grill and ponder the meaning of this day.

Update: stopped by my father’s gravesite this afternoon. He was a Naval Reservist. Three years and I still feel a pang. I still miss him. Should have brought a flag.

>Scoot Over, Flatt & Scruggs

30 May

>Yeah, it doesn’t look like a banjo but don’t be fooled:

I’d pay money to hear her sit in on Foggy Mountain Breakdown.
But you’ve got to admit, you didn’t expect this:

The banjo/lute thing is called a pipa. It’s kewl.

>I Work On A Starship: New Content!

30 May

>Back to the main narrative at last, with a revised and expanded Chapter 1. We join our intrepid young heroine as she departs Lupine for the rugged pioneer city of Aberstwyth Port, on the former Far Edge planet, Frothup:

[A]s soon as the squirt-booster is clear of the ship and the ‘Drive field, it drops just like a rock, heat-shield end first. The feeling is precisely one of being in a vehicle that is pushed off a cliff, which is pretty much what just happened.

Continued on the far side of the linked text!

>What Price To Hold The Puppy-Wuppy?

30 May

>If the Royal Family are the nation-state equivalent of a purse dog — ornamental creatures of no practical use, doted on by the owners who support them — then Fergie’s terrible indiscretion is to have sold off chances to hold a pampered Pomeranian (or some other dust-moppy doggie). Who cares?

>My Clothes Know The Way Home

29 May

>Does your skirt (or even utilikilt) know where Santa lives? It would if it was the NorthSkirt!

Wearable tech-art usually turns out to be a watch with buttons too small to press or a too-Mod light-emitting-diode-covered minidress that weighs 30 pounds with sharp connections in places you’d as soon not get zinged. Not so this time! Soft circuits and good material choices…well, go see!

I like.

>I Work Onna…

29 May

>…Planet With Too Many Telephones. Yesterday was my birthday (I was twelve again. And why not?). Family and friends all called to wish me a happy, which was sweet of them.

My employer had, in their own sweet way, decided to give me the gift of overtime: three days in a row of early-early, 0430 to 1300 shifts. Started yesterday.

So anyone who found me spacey or curt on the phone, sorry! I was later than you thought. 😉