(no subject)

Jun. 27th, 2017 05:40 pm
jhetley: (Default)
[personal profile] jhetley
Again, a waste of time and it annoys the pig.

(no subject)

Jun. 27th, 2017 03:57 pm
jhetley: (Default)
[personal profile] jhetley
Wind pollination wastes precious resources. My eyes itch.
twistedchick: General Leia in The Force Awakens (Default)
[personal profile] twistedchick
My grandmother Nellie had a younger brother, Jack, who was friendly and cheerful and helpful and became a baker (and all-around general cook, but that was later). He taught my mother his recipe for piecrust, and it never failed either of us: behind cut -- my comments in ( ) )

Jack was the kind of character that I wish I'd met when I was older -- I think I met him once when I was 4, which wasn't that memorable. As I said, he was a baker, and he was engaged to this girl that everyone in the family liked (which might have been difficult, since Jack was the youngest of 9 and the family tended to be protective of their littlest brother, never mind that he was in his 20s.) And on the day of the wedding ... she didn't show up. Neither did his best man. They'd eloped.

It broke his heart. He couldn't stay in the Ottawa Valley any more; it was just too uncomfortable. So he took a job as a cook on a ranch in Alberta, took the train west, and came back at Christmas when he could. He taught my mom to knit, because he knew how to knit his own socks, and held her skeins of yarn for her while she wound them into balls, telling her stories of the ranch all the time. He taught her how to make piecrust, and a cake that wouldn't fall, and a lot more. Nellie would write to him and get frustrated when he didn't reply -- someone from the ranch would stop at the post office in town once a week or so -- so after two attempts that got no answer one year she put on the address, "If not claimed within two weeks, addressee is deceased; please return to sender." He wrote back really fast after that, and made a big joke of it.

When he came back during World War I, both his parents were dead (his mother a few years earlier but his father died in about 1917-1918) and were buried out in the little cemetery by the river church, without a headstone. He went around to visit all his brothers and sisters, asking for a little money to pay a stone cutter, and got nowhere. And yeah, he could understand that farmers and small merchants had a hard time during wartime, but there was family pride at stake too. So he dug into his own pocket, and one day a gravestone, a tall, elegant granite marker, appeared over their graves. Engraved on it was, "Sacred to the memory of Daniel and Catherine McNeely," and their dates and I think (it's been a while since I saw it) a pious verse of some sort. But in another line, underneath, "Erected by their son, John McNeely." (Never mind his three older brothers, and five sisters.) Nobody in the family took it badly, and some found it really funny, but under it all people were grateful that it had been done. And they all thought it was very much a Jack thing to do.

When he died in the late 1960s, after several years in a nursing home back in the Ottawa Valley, near family, he was buried near his parents, and the marker was altered to add his name and dates.

So, please, use Uncle Jack's Piecrust Recipe, and welcome, and pass it along. I don't want it to vanish into the place where good memories go when nobody remembers them any more.

Eobard Thawne too

Jun. 27th, 2017 06:05 pm
beccaelizabeth: my Watcher tattoo in blue, plus Be in red Buffy style font (Default)
[personal profile] beccaelizabeth
Just rewatched the season one ep with Mardon and the tsunami.
Thawne is such a dick.
Read more... )

Tuesday floral report

Jun. 27th, 2017 11:37 am
jhetley: (Default)
[personal profile] jhetley

More cornflowers sighted, first goatsbeard, mock orange smelling up the place. Rhododendrons done, seed heads on the curled dock turning brown. More roses.

No identifiable roadkill, just blood patches on the asphalt. Cleanup crew is fast.

Got out on the bike, not much wind, temperature about 70 F. Did not die.

15.27 miles, 1:13:16

Incrementalism

Jun. 27th, 2017 08:12 am
jhetley: (Default)
[personal profile] jhetley

Air temperature 58 F, calm, mostly cloudy for the newspaper walk. Bike ride sooner rather than later -- possible showers or thundershowers this afternoon.

Steam sale

Jun. 27th, 2017 11:41 pm
avron: (Default)
[personal profile] avron
I have managed to avoid spending a lot of money in the Steam Summer Sale, mainly by not having a lot of money in my steam wallet. That might be changing tomorrow after I go to the supermarket. Deciding what I want to acquire, and will actually play, is the current factor holding me up from spending the last of what's there right now. With all I've seen about it (and the small amount I was able to play of the sequel) Mass Effect is currently at the top of my to buy list. The number of LEGO games for $6 would be tempting as well, if I had a working controller at the moment.
Apparently posting about how cheap Portal was a couple of days ago was enough to get one of the Saga regulars to buy it. He's got about halfway through after a couple of play hours.
As I was warned a fair while ago, the Hexcells follow ups are not as good. I'll almost certainly finish the pair of them, but it's going to take a lot longer than the Hexcells game did.

Work picked up again after nothing for nearly three weeks, I've been getting simple enough jobs while there. Getting out of bed quickly hasn't been happening, I'm not sure whether it's more because I'm tired and want to sleep more or the cold making me want to just stay under the covers. Apparently the heat pump is getting fixed on Thursday though, it'll be good to find the house warm again. Still thinking that a dehumidifier would be worthwhile.

Oh, God will save her, fear you not

Jun. 27th, 2017 04:42 am
sovay: (I Claudius)
[personal profile] sovay
I enjoyed this review of a new biography of A.E. Housman, but I got to the last paragraph and disagreed so violently that I spent my shower fuming about it:

But that sweetness, verging on sentimentality, is also Housman's limitation: the lads and lasses slumbering under the grass, never growing old or sick or worrying about how to find a job. Sadness in Housman is a one-size-fits-all emotion, not one rooted in particulars. It puddles up automatically. And reading "A Shropshire Lad" you can find yourself becoming narcotized against feelings that are deeper and more complicated. That may be the real secret of the book's enduring popularity, the way it substitutes for a feeling of genuine loss the almost pleasant pain of nostalgia.

The reviewer claims earlier that "one reason 'A Shropshire Lad' has been so successful is that readers find there what they want to find," so perhaps I am merely following this well-worn tack, but I don't see how you can read Housman and miss the irony, the wryness, the sometimes bitterness and often ambiguity that never prevents the pleasure of a line that turns perfectly on itself. Some of his best poems seem to take themselves apart as they go. Some of them are hair-raising. Some of them are really funny. (It is impossible for me to take "When I was one-and-twenty" as a serious lament. In the same vein, it wasn't until tonight in the shower that I finally noticed that "Is my team ploughing" owes a cynical debt to "The Twa Corbies.") That is much more complicated than a haze of romantic angst and the vague sweet pain of lost content, especially seeing how much of Housman's language is vividly, specifically physical for all its doomed youth and fleeting time, not dreamy at all. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale. I am not sure why the reviewer knocks Housman's Shropshire for not being "particular," either. Of course it's not actual Shropshire, where the poet himself acknowledged he never even spent much time. It's Housman's Arcadia, et ego and all. I finished the review and found myself thinking of Catullus—again, I had to have my hair full of soap before I realized why. I don't understand why anyone looks for the undiluted Housman in A Shropshire Lad any more than the Lesbia poems should be assumed to contain the authentic Catullus. Pieces of both of them, sure. But my grandmother didn't need the identity of the addressee of "Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all's over" pinned down in order to copy out the poem and save it after a college relationship broke up badly. (I thought it was hers for years.) Who cares if its second person was Moses Jackson or fictional? It spoke to a real loss. I don't think there is anything anesthetizing in that. I doubt Housman would have wanted the particulars known, anyway. I have to figure out a way to stop fuming and start being asleep.

Bed after 4am.

Jun. 26th, 2017 10:41 pm
archangelbeth: An anthropomorphic feline face, with feathered wing ears, and glasses, in shades of gray. (Glaseah Me!)
[personal profile] archangelbeth
*sigh* And the kid -- with an annoying nose -- no earlier and with more wakeups.

Played in a fast, silly game!
http://fadeaccompli.dreamwidth.org/130804.html
I was Galli-EMU-mus. It was fun.

Havva Quote
Di clambers up the food dispenser! Clamber, clamber... how is she getting inside this? More importantly, how is she getting down? Di whips her head around wildly and screeches, hoping that this will help somehow.
--http://fadeaccompli.dreamwidth.org/130804.html



INwatch+Bookwatch )

Dragons under fold )

Unexpected encounters, part 3

Jun. 26th, 2017 09:55 pm
twistedchick: General Leia in The Force Awakens (Default)
[personal profile] twistedchick
It was the first day at St. Bonaventure University, to which I was transferring after two years above the Adirondacks at Potsdam State. One of the girls down the hall, who had been there for a couple of years, was showing me around the campus and filling me in on which professors to take for which classes, and which to avoid because they weren't as good, and which to avoid because they hit on the students -- all good things to know.

After we'd wandered around most of the buildings, she took me to the nature trails, on the wilder part of the campus by the river. The trails had been there for a century or more, weaving through the woods and the nearby swamp; the longer trail we ended up on ran from the village to the west, past the campus, and into a park halfway to the city of Olean, on the east. It was well-worn dirt, not bad for walking, and she was talking and gesturing as we walked and I listened.

Then I looked up.

There were trees on both sides of the trail, so we were walking under the arch of their branches. And on one of those low branches -- say, 15' from the ground -- there was a bald eagle, and it was staring at me. It shifted around on the branch to face me full on.

I tried to get her attention; I couldn't manage to interrupt her, and we kept walking forward toward that branch.

The eagle lifted off, watching me the whole time, and swooped low, its claws nearly touching my head, and swung off into the woods.

The girl with me never saw a thing.

I learned later that the eagle was one that had been found injured in a farmer's field, had been taken to a branch of the Audubon Society, where they had a vet who patched up wounded birds, and rehabilitated. When she was released, she built a nest on the edge of the swamp, near the river. That wasn't a bad choice for a fish-eating bird -- that river had four-foot carp, not to mention catfish and other fish.

I used to see the eagle again, when I was walking through the trails, taking a break from class. There was a small clearing in the woods, with a stone bench that caught the sun, and it was a good place to study or catch up on reading -- I've never been able to study with other people around me. After a while, the animals would come out to see what this odd thing was that smelled like a human but didn't move like one. I would see deer fairly often, and parts of wild turkeys (you never saw a whole one -- they always kept part of a tree between you and them), and once or twice a fox. But they left when I moved, and none of them gave me the intense close encounter that I had with that eagle.

a different day

Jun. 26th, 2017 05:33 pm
alatefeline: Painting of a cat asleep on a book. (Default)
[personal profile] alatefeline
Today we went hiking. (Me, sib, mom, dad - our fourfold knot in the family web.)

Aunt needed some space. Her mom is over there taking care of cousin. We'll see them tomorrow.

We hiked up to the top of the ridge, added stones to a cairn, and said a few words.

My aunt on my mom's side and one of her grown sons, my oldest cousin, met us for dinner at the lodge, and we talked.

The woods here are so lovely--
tielan: (AVG - Natasha)
[personal profile] tielan
[personal profile] rydra_wong has a post that talks about fucking up when calling political reps. It's also about the current state of the attempt to pass TrumpCare.

Home Alone

Jun. 26th, 2017 07:18 pm
lurkingcat: (Default)
[personal profile] lurkingcat
Or not because at least Kheldar and I had each other while [personal profile] battlehamster went off to a larp this weekend. Kheldar did a fine job of protecting the house although I could have done without waking up at 2am one morning thinking that I was suffocating only discover that Kheldar was on my chest purring his report at me. He was so very, very pleased about having a human to report to at that time in the morning.

[personal profile] k8bush and [personal profile] teebee were kind enough to invite me round on Saturday night and I sat on their sofa, drank Pimms and lemonade, and talked about all sorts of things but mostly Pokémon. While I'm aware that the new gym changes haven't pleased everyone they're working pretty well for me so far. It seems to have broken the stranglehold that one small group of people had on gyms over a very wide area around here and I'm seeing much lower level players able to take a gym now, whereas previously I think it had become so daunting that most people had given up trying.

[personal profile] teebee called me at around 7pm yesterday evening to point out that there was a raid starting on a nearby gym and it was a small enough target that it didn't need too many players. So I ran around the house shutting windows and locking up while Kheldar stared at me in bewilderment and then bounced off up the road as if I was at least thirty years younger than I actually am and leaned over the fence at the water tower and took part in my first raid. I have a Bayleef now. Only another 105 candies and I'll be able to evolve it ;)
malkingrey: ((default))
[personal profile] malkingrey
If you were raised in (or have ever lived for an extended time in) the South, this is hilarious:

"Tennessee Williams with Air Conditioning"

(I read an article somewhere once that attributed the rise of the modern South to the invention of air conditioning, which made it possible for people in that region to actually work from 9 to 5 in the summertime without turning into puddles of economically unproductive sweat. The writer of the article, as I recall, seemed to vaguely resent this.)

The Elves of Orbis Leonis

Jun. 26th, 2017 10:14 am
the_gneech: (Default)
[personal profile] the_gneech
Writing this as part of my World Map Project for the Storm King's Thunder campaign. Chunks of it will go into the gazetteer handout for the players, but I'm also posting it here for my elfy players (lookin' at you, Plotline and [personal profile] laurie_robey).

Elves are always a joy, and always a problem. Every campaign, and every edition, has treated them differently, to the point where it’s become a giant blurry mess. So for Orbis Leonis, my “grand unified D&D setting,” here is the definitive word on elves.

Earliest Days


In prehistoric times, the elves were a single people. They have a variety of creation legends, but they are largely biased and contradictory. What is known is that there was once a wide-ranging high elven civilization throughout the region now known as the Marches, ruled from the great spiraled tower Elfspire. Before the foundation of Elfspire, even the elvish histories are lost, other than that the elves fled from some calamity across a seemingly-endless plain– a plain that would have to be where the Gulf of Irul Kinthé is now– only to stop in despair upon sighting the eastern reaches of the great desert of Xadar. The Elfspire was created, the story goes, when the Maimed King, Iearendir, prayed to Corellian Larethian, who appeared before them and commanded a unicorn to touch its horn to the ground. From that spot sprung a well of miraculous healing powers, and around it grew the Elfspire in “an echo” of the unicorn’s horn. This happened, according to the elves, “hundreds of centuries ago.”

For an indeterminate (but presumably very long) time, the elves ruled the region. How the elvish realm interacted with other ancient kingdoms is open for speculation. However, roughly 30,000 years ago, according to what elven records still exist, there was a bitter internal conflict among the elven gods, which was in turn echoed by enclaves of elves in the mortal realm. This conflict led to a massive event the elves call the Sundering, that splintered the elves into the eladrin, high elves, wood elves, and drow that the world knows today. (Some scholars point to this as also being the origin of the orcs. Orcs deny this. Often via manslaughter.) This event also ended the elvish dominance of the region and seems to have led the decline of the entire elvish race.

Note that this story seems to conflict with the giants’ tradition that there were no civilizations of note on the surface other than Ostoria during its heyday. Either the elvish record is incorrect, or the giants’ idea of what is a “civilization of note” is disputable. Which of those may be true is left as an exercise for the reader.

High and Wood Elves


Of the elven kindreds, high elves and wood elves are closest to each other, with their differences being purely cultural. A high elf raised by wood elves, is a wood elf, and vice versa. They are called "high" elves because they prefer to live on the surface, or even better, in trees or tall spires, but also because they did not follow Lolth into the Underdark. Although the stereotypical high/wood elf is of fair complexion, with very fine, straight hair, there is more variation than people generally think. In the Sea Kingdoms and realms further south particularly, elvish complexion ranges to a copper or deep brown color.

Eladrin


Eladrin ("noble elves" in their own language) are the most powerful of the high elves, with the strongest attunement to the realm of Faerie, to the point where they are infused with its magic. They are closer to elemental spirits to mortal beings, being tied to the passage of the seasons and the movement of the sun, stars, and planets. Although physically similar to their more terrestrial kin, Eladrin are readily discernible because their eyes are solid orbs of color with no visible pupils, and their bodies often radiate a visible aura. Tales say they can speak any language, and step between the mortal world and Faerie/Feywild at will, and while this may certainly be true of individual eladrin, it may not be true of all of them.

Drow


Drow, the "dark elves," followed their goddess into the Underdark. Before the Sundering, the elf goddess Araushnee was a patron of the stars, destiny, and craftsmanship, whose emblem of the spider represented her weaving of the fates. Her favored followers, although still high elves, would undergo a ritual transformation that altered their skin to an intensely dark blue and their hair to a shining white or silver as a mark of their devotion. During the great conflict that caused the Sundering, Araushnee forsook the light of the stars and fled the realms of light (or was banished, or simply left, depending on who you ask), taking her followers with her into the Underdark. From that small pool of common ancestors came the modern drow.

(Note: Araushnee's daughter Eilistraee, a high-spirited goddess of moonlight and dancing, shares her mother's appearance, and what few drow who have forsaken the worship of Lolth for its wickedness and cruelty, have generally turned to her as their new patron. A small cabal of drow worshippers of Eilistraee can be found in Myth Talminden, and it is something of a "promised land" for discontent drow of the Underdark who would flee their dark mistress.)

Orcs and Elves


How do the orcs fit in? The truth is that mortals don't know and the gods aren't telling, but there are clear signs of some sort of connection. First, is their shared mythology: the story of the battle between the orc god Gruumsh and the elf god Corellan Larethian, allowing some variance for which side you are rooting for, is remarkably similar in both cultures, and always highlights the famous cutting out of Gruumsh's eye. It is also worth noting that elves and orcs are both interfertile with humans and each other, unlike any of the other demi-human races. (It is rare in the extreme that an orc and an elf would have a child, but such a child would essentially be either a half-elf or a half-orc depending upon which parent they favored.)

Elvish Homelands


There are two major elf holdings in Orbis Leonis. First, and oldest, is the Elfspire, in the southeastern portion of Thessalaine near the Gulf of Irul Kinthé. This consists of a massive, spiral conical tower formed out of a unique mineral reminiscent of mother of pearl, a dizzying fifty stories in height and crowned with an ever-burning beacon. The mountainside below the spire is also populated by houses and fortifications in the high elven style.

The second largest is the western seaside realm of Myth Talminden ("Silver Lighthouse" in Elvish), a fair and green country on the westernmost point of the mainland. The city of Myth Talminden proper consists of several large stone towers inlaid with silver from Argent, in a curving spiral style that echoes the Elfspire, but on a much smaller scale (the tallest reaching only seven stories). The towers are connected by a dizzying network of narrow, gracefully-arcing catwalks that not only provide walking access from one spire to the next, but also reinforce the overall structure like a lattice.

There are many smaller settlements across the land, usually referred to as "havens." These include the wood elf settlement of Starsong Hill in Elsir Vale, Mother Oak of the Westdeep, or Dimhaven and Mistvale in Thessalaine. Of course, the drow have their own cities in the Underdark, but the names and locations of these are not generally known to surface dwellers.

-The Gneech

Uninteresting

Jun. 26th, 2017 08:10 am
jhetley: (Default)
[personal profile] jhetley

Air temperature 58 F, mostly cloudy, wind SSW about 5 mph for the newspaper walk.

A lot of things cost more than they're worth.

May 2017

S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
14151617 181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 27th, 2017 10:41 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios