We noticed this thing with Daisy, though. When she starts eating, she grabs a big mouthful and just goes to town. She won’t try to pick out a modest piece – she’ll grab as much as she can manage, and then wrestle the whole thing in the air as she slowly chews it down.
I didn’t see any kids around, and given some of the water damage I spotted… my best guess is that this has been sitting for some time. Possibly left here the day before, on someone’s way home.
Watching Adam and Norm create this machine from scratch was a delight. There is something great about watching nerds in their nerd zone, totally nerding it up. It’s amazing.
I spotted this the other day: two metal tracks, right in the middle of the floor. This is from the 56th street station, and I’ve passed it daily for many years now – and never really noticed it.
For two years, filmmaker Jennifer Crandall has crisscrossed this deep Southern state, inviting people to look into a camera and share a part of themselves through the words of Walt Whitman. The 19th century poet’s “Song of Myself” is a quintessential reflection of our American identities.
It’s really hard to show the stark difference in the shop here, compared to what it was like full of tools and things. If you look at this blog post, you might get a sense of what it used to look like.
With that change, right on that word – the whole song takes on more of a somber tone. While the slower pace and Espe’s voice helps remove some of the sugar from the song, it’s that note, that shift on the phrase “come my way” that really made me look at this as an incredibly sad song.
Everything else mostly fell into place after that, though it was a bit slow going. The first set of measurements took a while, as Liz and I talked through the logic of what needed to be recorded, and how those lines translated over to the plywood.
I’m not sure why but on opening this up and taking out the lightbulb, my first action was to put it up to my nose and to smell it. I have no idea what made me do this, but it was almost instinctive/reflexive.
This light bulb is different: smell it. I’m so weird.
I happened across this short clip of Astro Teller, talking about failure. Teller, whose name wasn’t cool enough and so needed an even cooler job title, is currently “Captain of Moonshots” at X (which is a very cool company).
Spent a lot of today looking over open source projects that contain React components already styled to work with Google’s Material Design. I’m not a huge fan of the flat look, but I hesitate to always reach for Bootstrap and figured on trying something a little new.
The board, cut to fit along the studs, with a 30 degree taper at the base, as well as notches for the electrical outlet and floor joists.
On my walk to the Metra each morning, I see in the distance a large crane. It’s visible once I get along 55th, but it becomes even more so when I’m on the Metra platform.
When checking in on Liz tonight, I found her surrounded by yarn. More than that, she had her head down writing things down in her notebook and constantly going back over to her phone.