Of twelve. It’s hard not to notice how Christmas peeks out from under the covers earlier and earlier every year. One of my more recent seasonal traditions is noting how soon the first signs appear. The commercial opportunities of Halloween run interference in the fall; this year I found Christmas spoor on November 1st.
How Thanksgiving managed to escape heavy commercialization escapes me. Maybe people are spent out due to those two spendiest of holidays bracketing either side. Attics now store as many boxes of Halloween decorations as they do Christmas ones!
I guess the long foreplay is a good thing considering the instant exit once the deed is done.
May you — and all those you love — have a Merry, Happy, Joyous, Delightful, Wonderful, Warm, Delicious, Safe, Fun (yet Solemn), Sugar-Cinnamon Hot Cookie-Scented [insert appropriate holiday here].
My favorite part of the season just occurred! Over an hour ago the Earth swung past the winter-most spot in its orbit. That was at 17:11 UTC, 12:11 PM on the east coast of the USA, 9:11 AM on the west coast, and the rest of you will just have to do the math.
We’re headed back towards summer! (Ironically, today is also the first official day of winter.) It’ll take a few days before we can notice the growing daylight — it’s somewhat similar to how you pause for a moment when you turn and reverse direction. If the snow ever melts off my skylight, I’ll be able to start watching the patch of sunlight start working its way down again.
Is it just me or are the first four paragraphs of Dickens‘ A Christmas Carol both brilliant and hysterically funny? There seems a significant mood change beginning in the fifth graph, but the first four always crack me up. Combined with his preface, he opens with a joke (a few, really) and has me at hello.
In just a bit over 300 words, Dickens does riffs on the deadness of doornails, the ancestral wisdom in simile, and the ghost of Hamlet’s father that are practically stand-up comedy (mentioning a ghost foreshadows his own tale). We learn that Marley is (definitely!) dead and that he and Scrooge were partners. We learn a bit about their character, particularly Scrooge’s.
One could write an article about those four paragraphs (but I didn’t)!
The last time Shark Week passed I found myself musing over the things people find fascinating enough to turn into week-long events or — in at least one case — the actual unnamed theme of an entire cable channel. Let me be clear that I do not intend at all to diminish most such interests. Glass houses! I devote a good chunk of the six months of summer to baseball, so I can’t fling stones (or baseballs).
It’s not the sharks, actually. There’s nothing wrong with sharks. In fact, they’re really tasty, especially grilled. They’re sort of like grilled swordfish, which is also delicious. It’s just that Shark Week got me thinking about fads and fascinations.
Brain Bubble posts are supposed to be short side thoughts, but the one just posted is another example of my inability to be brief. What can I say; I love words and the ideas we can express with them. To me, there are very few topics that don’t deserve a detailed discussion (you should see how much I cut out before I post)!
This post began as a comment — a reply to Lila on her recent post, Affluence, Toxic Parenting Buy Lenience for Horrific Teen DUI. It ran long, which you all know isn’t unusual and never stops me, but it concerned a topic that is near and dear to my heart. I’ve always planned to write about driving and drivers, but there are so many other topics I just hadn’t gotten to it, yet.
Here’s what I hope is a short(-ish) intro to my views on driving…
Many offices feature “casual Friday” in acknowledgement that today our attention begins to shift towards the weekend. (When I started with TC in 1980, ties were required. When I retired this year, “business casual” was the norm. I wore jeans and polo shirts the last half-dozen years or so.)
In the same way, today the focus here shifts from the tough and chewy Sideband material to something softer and easier to digest. I have what amounts to a bit of a rant, but a mild-mannered one of minor import. It’s just one of those little things that’s annoyed me in a small way for a long time. (But it turns out that it’s one of those things that actually have good reason!)
I have mentioned before that I like to observe a Sabbath of some kind, a day of rest and difference. Years of religious indoctrination cause me to see Sunday as that day. More than forty years of work life reenforced that view (although I often worked Sundays in my very first job). Ultimately the actual day isn’t important; it’s the idea of taking a weekly break from normal that I think is crucial to mental well-being.
There is also for me, not a religious component, but a moral one nevertheless. I observe certain restrictions on my Sabbath (I don’t watch anything violent, for example), and I try to connect with my gentler side. (I’m actually a gentle soul at heart. The world has had the effect of giving me a crusty, pointy exterior.)
So today, no Python, no POV-Ray, no math (no rants).
Dateline: Monday. The little-known eclectic blogger, Wyrd Smythe, had no idea that his blogging provider, a mysterious global enterprise known as “WordPress” (a possible anagram for “Sword Reps”), had granted him extreme power over the weather. At this time, we cannot report whether this was a deliberate seasonal gift, or if the power somehow escaped the control of its owners. Neither can we report on how many this may affect.
What we do know is this: On Monday, when the unsuspecting blogger clicked the “Let It Snow” checkbox on his settings page, sure enough, a gentle snow fall began on his posts. That was the desired and expected effect. What happened next, however, was a surprise.
It also began to snow outside for the first time this season!
So I was conversing with a fellow I know, and the right side of my brain asked the left side, “So just how much square footage per person is there these days?” We both agreed that seemed like an interesting question (given all the people running around these days), so we looked around for a body to help us research the answer.
We just happened to find one handy, so off we all went to the virtual library and math lab. Unfortunately our math consultant was a Communications Arts major and made a small error thinking square kilometers to square miles was the same as kilometers to miles. Fortunately everyone involved obsessively double-checks their work, so we caught the error in time.
Pity, though. The original answer would have been fun to write about.
Of twelve. It’s hard not to notice how Christmas peeks out from under the covers earlier and earlier every year. One of my more recent seasonal traditions is noting how soon the first signs appear. The commercial opportunities of Halloween run interference in the fall; this year I found Christmas spoor on November 1st.
My favorite part of the season just occurred! Over an hour ago the Earth swung past the winter-most spot in its orbit. That was at 17:11 
Is it just me or are the first four paragraphs of 
The last time Shark Week passed I found myself musing over the things people find fascinating enough to turn into week-long events or — in at least one case — the actual unnamed theme of an entire cable channel. Let me be clear that I do not intend at all to diminish most such interests. Glass houses! I devote a good chunk of the six months of summer to baseball, so I can’t fling stones (or baseballs).
Many offices feature “casual Friday” in acknowledgement that today our attention begins to shift towards the weekend. (When I started with TC in 1980, ties were required. When I retired this year, “business casual” was the norm. I wore jeans and polo shirts the last half-dozen years or so.)
I have 
Dateline: Monday. The little-known eclectic blogger, Wyrd Smythe, had no idea that his blogging provider, a mysterious global enterprise known as “WordPress” (a possible anagram for “Sword Reps”), had granted him extreme power over the weather. At this time, we cannot report whether this was a deliberate seasonal gift, or if the power somehow escaped the control of its owners. Neither can we report on how many this may affect.
Logos con carne 