Along with the few leeks.
But there are two shoots popping up behind where I planted the garlic sprouts.
Maybe the chives will come back.
Along with the few leeks.
But there are two shoots popping up behind where I planted the garlic sprouts.
Maybe the chives will come back.
I just watched the last episode of 'My Brilliant Career'. My instant conclusion:
Writers are selfish bastards.
Read Waverly by Sir Walter Scott. Its lesson:
A man can survive his foolish youth if he makes good connections and then inherits a large fortune.
Everyone was re-reading Ray Bradbury's "There will come soft rains" a few weeks ago in August. Couldn't resist tweeting about it:
Nice house, too bad about the war.
I tried to look at my blog by clicking on Chrome and then asking for unjam.blogspot.com. I tried it with and without the https:// part. It insisted on doing an AI search instead of just going to the URL. It lied to me, telling me that unjam.blogspot.com was inaccessible or didn't exist. I mean, Blogger and Chrome and Google are all owned by Google, right? Why penalize your own products?
I had to switch browsers. Duck Duck Go got me there with no problem.
Stepped outside this morning and the air smelled of roses. After I walked past a block I finally saw two scraggly white roses, but they could not have inundated the entire neighborhood all by themselves.
There were other flowers, mainly wildflowers around.
The most common one, ones that are growing in our front yard under the lilacs, are these clustered miniature daisies. Along the roadside there were also goldenrod plus miniature yellow-orange lilies.
I wish botany was still part of every child's education.
Since my childhood and likely since before that, we've been raising people who can't describe their environment.
When I was growing up, my parents' bookcase contained a book from a series called "ECSK" = "Every Child Should Know". I can't now remember if it was entitled "Flowers Every Child Should Know" or "Trees Every Child Should Know", but I think both were part of the series.
My bad not reading it.
---
(Instagram photo of the mini daisies)
With a mind badly warped from a lifetime filled with science fiction, I had some unclear but troubling images as to what an Experienced Virtual Assistant could mean.
We can rob from you wholesale?
Anyhow, I still find the letter amusing.
And, yeah, it was tempting to click "Summarize" but I did not.
Caution: This email originated from outside your organization. Do not click links or open attachments unless you recognize the sender. |
Hi,I hope you're doing well.I am a full-time Virtual Assistant with over 5 years of experience across multiple freelance platforms. I specialize in delivering reliable, high-quality support tailored to your business needs.I can assist you with:• Cold calling & appointment setting• Social media management & digital marketing• Data entry & online research• Accounting & bookkeeping• Lead generation & marketing support• Real estate tasksI am committed to providing accurate, timely, and professional results. Whenever you need a dependable Virtual Assistant, I’m here to help.May I share a proposal with my most affordable package for your requirements?Best regards,Avnish,Note: Just reply to me please {Yes, Sure, Ok, interested}
Greetings dear individual we have seen great potentials in you and we are here to promote you to the next level.
Do you wish to be famous, wealthy and powerful? Be part of this elite organization called the illuminati (NWO) filled with world leaders, business authorities, artists, and be given 1,200,000 million dollars as your first membership benefit and lots more. If interested kindly reply with “YES”
This is a Millennium recruitment fest for chosen crafted individuals to become part of the world's biggest conglomerate , To be received is a Privilege. A strengthening and greater value in life is what we offer. The new world order appreciates your total proclamation of this Great offer. show your proclamation By the word “YES”
#spam
Confirmation of Interest – Global Business Financing Program
Ludwigstorff Georg<georg.ludwigstorff@dorotheum.at>
Dear Recipient,
We are pleased to inform you that your company has been shortlisted for participation in our current Global Business Financing Program.
Following our preliminary review, your organization meets the eligibility criteria, and we are considering the allocation of grant funding ranging between $2,000,000 and $10,000,000, subject to final evaluation and completion of the required procedures.
To proceed, we kindly request that you confirm your interest in this opportunity by replying to this email. Upon receiving your confirmation, we will provide detailed information regarding the funding structure, documentation requirements, and next steps in the process.
We look forward to the possibility of working together and supporting the continued growth and success of your company. email: rolf.gerling@financier.com
Kind regards,
Rolf Gerling
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Don't know why, after all the truly horrible stuff that's been done, don't know why Jimmy Kimmel's suspension pushed me over the edge.
Maybe because he is somewhat Establishment, a presumably protected rich white man. If he's a victim, then the country is truly crumbling before the loony evil greedy bullies. (Colbert? That was a slap on the wrist, giving him a year; a lot can happen in a year.)
Check my privilege? Yeah I was counting on it.
I'm close to retirement, hoping to keep my head down, wanting to continue on my nice little patch of finally-something-is-mine New Hampshire home. My yard. My garden. I need to continue working. I worry that some strange medical expense will destroy it all, all my saving and scrimping and not doing stuff (trips, theatres, restaurants, home improvements) so I could save money so I could be safe, despite layoffs, not ruined by emergencies.
I need to work, mainly for health insurance.
What drugs should I request from my shrink so that I can continue to function despite the current political situation?
Prozac? More Prozac?
Ate the first ripe blackberry this afternoon.
Still a few raspberries left.
Probably no more wild strawberries on the front lawn.
(On Tuesday, I gave up on them and mowed the wildly overgrown front lawn.)
The choke cherries are starting to turn red, but the birds usually get all of them.
Choke cherries aren't really worth human effort anyway.
It is ironic how the things Trump destroys are the things that made us great: science, arts, health, foreign aid, generosity, an adherance to ideals.
A Great Nation is a beacon for foreign students and scientists and intellectuals. They compete to find a place in a great and prospering nation. Citizens and foreigners learn from each other in a country open to diverse ideas and debate, in a country that promotes advancement.
That beacon defines greatness, and has done so for millenia. The centers of greatness have shifted over the years, but we can recognize where they have been thoughout history.
I mourn our greatness. I'm angry at how it is being destroyed: by simple stupidity, not from natural disasters or war or invading barbarians.
Home-grown barbarians are destroying us--barbarians abetted by ignorance, greed, and the selfish fear of politicians who could oppose them.
I want America to be great again. I want us to Make America Great. But we can't use that slogan any more for what it ought to mean.
"The graveyards are full of people who thought they were irreplaceable."1 2
The sad truth is that many of them were.
That's not the point of the original sentiment.
The point is--
If people are remembered for their worst mistake, President Biden will be remembered for his failure to stick to one term.
During the New Hampshire primary, we were inundated with ads and emails urgently telling us that a write-in vote for Joe Biden was the only way to prevent Donald J Trump from regaining power and ruining our democracy. It didn't make logical sense at the time. In hindsight, the opposite may have been true.
Me? I've been saying since November: "Don't blame me. I voted for Dean Phillips."
...with chopped leek, chives, and garlic sprouts--greens from our garden.
In the fancy French omelette pan. (ok, it's a crepe pan, but still fancy and French.)
The eggs were best-by March, and now it is May. They were fine.
I'd been practicing omelette making before we all got scared from the high price of eggs and stopped eating them as cavalierly as we had done before.
But that was no reason to stop completely. I mean, we ate fish last night that was certainly more expensive.
Listening to the audiobook version of Gregory McGuire's Wicked apparently did some serious harm to my psyche. I get an inward cringe when exposed to any references to it, though I'm told the play and the movie were much more enjoyable.
My childhood was an Oz-infused world. There was the annual network broadcast of the movie and thus pilgrimage to my cousin's house to watch it on her color TV. But most important were the books: the classics by L.Frank Baum with illustrations by John R. Neil, and then the later ones by Ruth Plumly Thompson--and then a few also written by John R. Neil. (I loved John R. Neil, as only a little girl can love the man who draws her ideal fairy princesses.)
To be able to read the Oz books was my main motivation for learning to read.
Our eldest sister Melinda (rhymes with Glinda) was the keeper of these sacred tomes. We would approach her with a request to borrow one of them only when we were certain she was in a good mood. What if she was in a bad mood, and said no? Then we'd have to wait even longer before we could ask again. (For the record, this feared scenario never happened. She never did refuse to lend us a sacred Oz book, once we'd worked up the courage to ask her.)
Most of the Oz books were inherited from our cousins. There were a few books missing from the collection. Prior to a Hanukkah trip to the discount bookstore where books were sorted by publisher, we'd check and carefully memorize the publisher: Reilly and Lee. Reilly and Lee. "Reilly and Lee," we'd say, entering the car, then again while entering the bookstore.
I appreciated that McGuire had read all the books. That showed in his details, like Smith & Tinker being the manufacturer of mechanical men in both the original books and in McGuire Oz. These details added to the creepiness--as if the true evil had always lurked in Oz--as if any adult could have seen it, the way we all learn horrible truths about the real world as we grow up. To grow up in the real world is to replace one-by-one the simple ideal explanations that the grownups start us off with. Likewise, McGuire Oz is an unmasked evil that we hadn't noticed before only because we were children.
But my Oz, our Oz, was a child's paradise.There was no evil truth to learn about the world, no need to grow up. No one ever died there. You stayed the age you liked best.
When Dorothy ate a ham sandwich from a lunchbox she'd picked from a lunchbox tree, we asked our Orthodox Jewish father if we could eat a ham sandwich if it grew on a tree and he said yes. We could even eat ham sandwiches in Oz. Freedom and fantasy. Oz was the Best Place, a Refuge. Escape.
Oz never left me, no matter how old I grew. After all, you're the age you liked best in Oz--and why would anybody choose to grow up?
I listened to the Wicked audiobook during my pre-Covid, pre-remote-work, hours-long stressful car commuting to and from my out-of-state job. So ok, maybe I was already vulnerable? And ram, stomp, onto my childhood paradise went the well-written riveting narrative--I couldn't escape McGuire Oz, not until its sad sad ending.
No.
Some time I'm sure I will see the movie. The bits of stills from it I've seen are pretty. But I haven't the courage yet.
Add:
Spices:
I told my younger daughter "There's soup!"
She knew enough not to ask "What kind?"
She took a small bowlful.
I asked her opinion: Thumbs up.
Yay.