Morning, all. This break thing is awesome.
The weather here continues to be...springy, by which I mean chilly and grey. Ah, well. I need to stay inside and work on stuff, anyway. I can go out a little later to the grocery store.
Finishing my coffee, I actually wrote 2 blog posts last night, and am gearing up for resume tweaking when my brain hits fully caffeinated capacity. I bought a lemon cupcake candle yesterday, so I think I'll listen to music and chair dance and work resumes until the smell reminds me I must go to grocery store, buy food.
Nice!
I hate real-dreams. Ugh. I usually love my dreams, but I have some bad ones journaled from years ago that are instantly and terrifyingly vivid when I re-read the entries.
ita needs a new brain, pass it on...
And a new front opens up in pastry purism. I am just returned from Trader Joe's where I discovered something called the pretzel croissant. I wonder if that's what kicked off the 30-Years-War?
Congrats, Calli!
I'm just now reading Krakauer's article on Greg Mortensen. I'm only a few pages in and already furious.
Yep. What he tried to do is not easy by any stretch of the imagination, but it's pretty depressing the lengths he's gone to to alienate and insult his partners, drive away his staff and board, and generally lie like hell.
Erin, I'm around if you have questions or need me to do anything.
Here's a wild story about a woman who created not just an online persona, but many of his friends and relatives, to get a woman to fall in love with "him" and etc. [link]
So it's a certain little boy's birthday today. He spent almost an hour last night crying, mourning that he'd never be 5 years old again. I mean, he was truly heartbroken. I promised him he could be 5 as long as he liked. So as I tucked him in, I asked him how old he'd be in the morning. "5?" I asked. "I think I want to be 6," he answered.
smonster, I am working on resume now.
I'll hit you up with any questions, send it to you for a look-see when I'm done.
So it's a certain little boy's birthday today. He spent almost an hour last night crying, mourning that he'd never be 5 years old again. I mean, he was truly heartbroken. I promised him he could be 5 as long as he liked. So as I tucked him in, I asked him how old he'd be in the morning. "5?" I asked. "I think I want to be 6," he answered.
Heh.
When I was about ten, I'd fantasize about staying ten the rest of my life. I'd imagine pressing on the sides of my skull to keep it from growing.
