The sky started to get a really odd color, and there was a storm supposedly headed our way. But instead of the big downpour of rain I was expecting, I looked outside to see this enormous rainbow filling the sky.
Standing in line at Walgreen’s to pick up medication, I noticed something odd. There was a balloon near the register, but right above it… there was a small bit of paper, taped across the overhead light.
We’re both nearing the two weeks after our second shot, but we’ve been sequestered for so long… going out to eat anywhere still feels distant. I think it will take us a considerable amount of time before we feel comfortable doing something like that again.
There’s work to be done this year, and also things to be done that will take a few years to realize. But it’s been very interesting to hear her talk about the changes, and to watch her go about planning this whole new space.
Liz has been working to clean up the main hall windows. Tonight, I got to see an interesting side by side between two of them.
I’ve been able to get to 20 more than once (my high score is 6x). For Liz though, she’s gotten to 8. Something I’ve not come closed to.
The closest I’ve come to “Paris underground” is visiting the chalk caves at Taittinger. Which isn’t quite the same thing.
One of these days, it would be lovely to get back to Paris. And perhaps finally explore the official catacombs. Sans bike, of course.
I really do enjoy seeing experiments on the web. With the advent of social media, these types of projects are nice reminders that there can still be wonder online. That we can still explore and marvel at possibilities and combinations that don’t have anything to do with commerce. They feel like reminders not of the page or the site being viewed, but of the creators and the viewers. The people behind all those many screens.
My back got worse and worse, to the point where when I stood up… I’d need to do so slowly, and walk down to the second floor with my body curled like a comma. My back muscles were tender to the touch. I’m amazed that just a small bout of working bent over, resulted in all of this.
I took the day off work as a “recovery” day, after hearing a lot of reports that this second shot is what does people in. I expected flu-like symptoms, and to be more or less out of commission. I heard some people experience symptoms 10-12 hours after the shot, others 24+ hours.
On the way to my car, I couldn’t help but snap a photo of the line that began to form. This was closer to noon, and still wasn’t too bad all told. I expect the line gets longer, the later it gets in the day, but I doubt it ever gets as bad as when it first opened.
Today, Liz and I were both outside working: me in the backyard, her in the front. She was clearing a lot of the front yard and parkway, while I was working on digging out the dandelions, and mowing the yard.
I’ve been thinking about writing lately. I used to write a lot, but that’s largely fallen to the wayside. Code has become more of a daily thing, and writing all the less. I’ve traded stanzas for functions. To a larger part though, it’s not really the absence of writing for me. It’s more about the absence of creation. Of making…
It’s pretentious at times. But I still have a fond memory of it. I don’t know whether this qualifies as an art film or not, but it’s definitely not your typical film.
The thing that I remember most fondly is that there were a few moments – a few select segments/scenes… that caught me off guard, and made me rethink how I listened to the world. One of those moments from the film was called “Truck Stop”:
My brain just naturally goes down the implementation route. And I’m honestly not sure what part of this whole process is the problem. Should I stop trying to visualize/see all the branching paths that exist? Should I focus on a single route, and ignore the variations? Or should I simply acknowledge all the variations, and just care a lot less about them all?