This year
My student loans were forgiven
**She was 95, and we are all very happy for her
This year
My nephew was folding his laundry and trying to pair up socks. There is a bag full of mate-less socks that he was checking, and I asked how it got so full. He suggested the culpability lies with a sock gnome.
It does not, my friends. Over 36 hours, I had the opportunity to track one of his socks, and I believe it will clear up any mystery about how so many socks go missing in their house.
The sock in question had slid from his laundry pile to under the couch. I saw it and gave it to him and told him to take care of it. Which apparently means, "Throw it in the upstairs hallway," because that's what he did.
It stayed there for a while, definitely NOT put away or taken care of, and then somehow ended up in the bathroom behind the toilet.
From there, it made it downstairs to the entryway by the front door. Then up to his bedroom, on the floor just inside the door. Then back into the hallway, then kicked down a couple of stairs, then kicked all the way down stairs into the entryway again.
Somehow it ended up back in his bedroom, where it was again left on the floor, un-put-away and un-taken-care-of. Until this morning, when finally he deigned to throw it in...the dirty laundry hamper.
And this, kiddo, is the real reason so many of your socks go missing. Stop blaming the gnomes.
mustard flavor Skittles
drinkable mayonnaise
Ranch flavored ice cream
bacon scented cologne
chicken-flavored ice cream
ketchup flavored ice cream
hot dog flavored ice cream (which I have tried so can speak with authority)
basically, many flavors of ice cream do not need to exist
Seriously, people. What are we doing?
A couple of months ago I cascaded to a new laptop at work. I have a habit of using my downloads folder as a dumping ground for a lot of stuff, and it was kind of nice to have a fresh start (and very revealing about how few things I needed from my old downloads folder, although they are backed up somewhere).
And a couple of weeks ago, my browser was wonky and lost all the tabs I had open (that I had open for some reason). And, well, no way to recover them. And, again, I have managed just fine.
I'm not going to lie. Although they are momentarily annoying, I enjoy these little resets. It's nice to have a clean slate to start from.
I don't know why, but it seems like this year, we are all ready for Christmas earlier. I don't mean that stores have been selling stuff sooner, or even that the black Friday sales started 2 weeks ago. Yes, that has all been earlier. But I think we are just ready for it earlier, apart from any of the commercial aspects.
At work, my co-worker started decorating (and I 1000% supported it) at the end of October. I took a dive into some Christmas music about mid-October. Last night I went to a Christmas concert (bell ringing), which may just be due to too many events, not enough nights. I was ready to put up my tree two weeks ago, even though I didn't get it up until tonight. And downtown where I live has started lighting up the lights, which usually doesn't happen until after Thanksgiving.
A couple of people have suggested it is due to the election, but I don't think that's it. At least, that's not it for me. I think we're just tired, and we are just ready for joy. There is something about Christmas that is light and calm and joy.* And I think we are just ready for it.
And so, yes, already, Merry Christmas. May it be a long and fulfilling season.
*Which is a bit paradoxical because in my part of the world, it actually gets dark around 5:00 pm, so not a lot of light going on.
Why do so many hobbies result in stuff? Like, knitting, you end up with sweaters or socks or cute stuffed animals or hats and stuff. Crocheting, you end up with blankets and scarves and washcloths and stuff. Painting, you end up with paintings--more stuff, and there's only so many walls in the world. Baking--you make stuff. And then eat it. Unless you know someone who will take it off your hands. So many hobbies generate stuff!
There are things like writing, which can be all digital, but it's still a lot of files that you have to deal with. And, I dabble in photography, which means a LOT of photos on my computer and then I have to keep moving them across hard drives and computers, or I have to print them. And then what do you do--albums? Scrapbooks? More stuff.
There are hobbies like running and other athletic things, but I was not blessed with great ability or joy in most sports. (I do like volleyball, but it is a little hard to do solo or just anywhere). I could take up walking. I don't mind a good walk. And I do have some new winter boots to break in, if it ever decides to snow. And reading! Which, there are libraries, so you don't actually have to buy books, which is delightful. And it's a hobby, right, so it doesn't have to produce a thing. It can just be fulfilling.
I do wish there were a few more options, but how many hobbies does one really need.
In archives, it is common to come across photos that don't have any description. So, a lot of unidentified people.* And sometimes unidentified places, and other unidentified things as well. And, when describing archival materials, it is best practice to include what you don't know, not just what you do know, so saying "unidentified" is an easy way to let people know that you absolutely don't know who those cows are.
Yes. Cows. In my institution's catalog, we have not one, not two, but 11 photographs with one or more unidentified cows.
As I said, it is best practice to include what you don't know. But somehow, this feels like, well, overkill. Did anyone expect that we would know the cows' identities? It would be more shocking if we did know their names. I'm not saying that the cows didn't at one point have names, but I'm not sure the names are historically relevant. If one of the cows was, say, a mutant cow superhero, then yes, I would hope to know the name. And probably would. So, it just feels unnecessary to state that they are unidentified. It's best practice coming up against practicality, and a small thing that doesn't really matter in this instance.
That being said, I do actually love that we have 11 unidentified cows in our catalog, described as such. I get a real kick out of it. I think this is a new challenge for AI tools. Can they do facial recognition on cows? I mean, what if the 11 photos really are all of the same two or three cows? Is there a way to track cows, like a cow census or something?
I'm considering hanging the photos up around the building, just to see if anyone knows who these cows are. I mean, it would be hilarious.*** And would really confuse people. And make me laugh.
In the meantime, though, I'm going to brainstorm some other goofy things to search for in the catalog. Maybe more unidentified stuff, or who knows, something totally new. Archives are great for that sort of thing.
*Be kind to history. Label your photos.
**In our catalog we also have an "unidentified aerial photograph" taken on an unknown date. Look, most things have value in the right context. If anyone can think of the context in which an unidentified aerial photograph with no date has a lot of value, I'd love to hear from you. I'm not saying there isn't value. I just haven't figured out the scenario yet.
***At the very least, I am going to hang them up in my boss's office the next time he goes on vacation. Long story, but it's kind of a tradition, and he is the one who discovered that there are in fact 11 of them.
A month or so ago, I was looking for something to read that would just hit the spot. I wasn't in the mood for non-fiction, or deep fiction, so I picked up a nice little bit of youth fiction, "The Year of Miss Agnes by Kirkpatrick Hill. I really wasn't sure what to expect but it was exactly what my self needed.
It's a really simple read, an Alaskan girl's account of getting a new teacher at their small school and basically, just a narrative about what she learned at school, how her teacher taught, things going on in her community, what life is like, her family, etc. The kind of thing you'd write in a journal, minus the angst and the "My little brother is always taking my stuff" type of thing. There isn't really a big plot, like a mystery to solve, or a major problem to overcome, or anything like that, it's just a narrative about a year in a girl's life. And it was just beautiful. With just a little tiny heartache for a moment in time that no longer exists, both historically and in the sense of a point in one's life where you are innocently young but also growing up.
I think I sometimes get caught up in the need for a lot of action or plot or problems with resolution--with books, with movies, with TV. It's easy to forget that you don't need a lot of drama or anything to really enjoy something.
Drama can be overrated.
I think shower time runs differently than other time. The shower has its own particular temporal reality. I say this because it never seems like I've been in the shower very long, but when I get out, my clock says otherwise.
To be honest, I think there are lots of these little independent temporal realities. Some are pretty standard, always found in the same place (maybe it's not just my shower, maybe it's my whole bathroom!), or the same time of day (mornings. I think my body is just in its own temporal reality in the morning). And others just pop up randomly. Some meetings seem to last for years. Others go way too quickly. The same is true for days, weeks, months, and years.
And then I think there are loops and whorls within the independent temporal realities, which explains how, after returning from my last trip, it felt simultaneously just a day since I got home and also 10 years.
I really think someone should explore this phenomenon. For too long we have just chalked it up to our perception of time, but have we even considered something else might be going on here? It seems to me we need some definite answers.
And also a way to manipulate them, because I'd love to find a way to have my sleep time seem longer than it is.
I think I may have mentioned the layer of dust that constantly shrouds my vehicle. Well, there's been a new twist: paw prints on the front and rear windshields.
I went out to my car the other day and noticed some prints in the dust on the back window:
In reverse order of being taken:
The thing about Iguaçu (or Iguazu, or Iguassu) Falls is, pictures don't do it justice. You really have to be there to appreciate the size, and the sound, smell, and feel of the water. Even just to see what it looks like actually moving--I don't think photographs or video can ever do it justice. And, they definitely don't let you experience butterflies landing on you and hitching a ride, or the feel of a coati brushing against your leg (they are very soft).