2009 — 14 November: Saturday
I've just proved (yet again) that an early night does not lead to a good night's sleep, let alone to waking up at a reasonable time in the morning after dreamless sleep, looking as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as Christa did back in September 1975 on holiday in Penzance:
<Sigh>
Time to make a start on the next crockpot. The sun was shining mere seconds ago, but seems to have vanished. It's 08:41 and "Sounds of the 60s" is a more reliable source of cheer.
Somewhat later (10:13) the crockpot is set to "stun" and a (probably) final large bowl has been filled with fresh grapes. The storm (if that's what it was) overnight has removed almost every leaf left on the vine, exposing the last few bunches, which at least one blackbird had also discovered. I don't remember ever having any decent grapes left so late in the year, Christa. Your green thumb evidently works on. I could wish Brian Matthew hadn't chosen to play "God only knows" by the Beach Boys as just about his final track, and for a couple who have just celebrated their 40th anniversary. Not that I begrudge them, at all...
I don't count calories, but it seems I can have an extra cheeseburger per day. I think not! (Source.)
Some things don't add up... dept.
I don't know why "maths" is singular across the pond, and I don't have a clue what "K-12" means. But the rest of the article is crystal clear and worth a read. Source and snippet:
Math educators proclaimed a brand-new objective — conveniently indefinable and immeasurable — called "deep conceptual understanding."... Baseless pedagogical theories mean that the educators' long-term captive audience — K-12 teachers, most drawn from the middle academic tier of our high school population and the bottom third of our undergraduate population — will know even less about authentic mathematics than they do now. Alas, so will their students.
Come back CP Snow.
Still beautiful, isn't it, even if we don't know what it "means"?
Sticks and stones...
Who counts these things?!
Ever since George Carlin laid out the "Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television" in 1972, television writers and broadcasters have been digging more deeply into the thesaurus, seizing on new ways to titillate, if not offend...
As I munch my (late) breakfast and look at the pouring rain I shall keep this for a while...
... as I think it's my fastest yet. Of such minor triumphs does a poor pensioner's Life consist, heh?!
It's 13:16 and I feel a sudden urge for a Dysonic blitz up here in Dusty Central. I shall be off the air for a while (completely uninfluenced by these horrible pictures).
Goodness me! This cleaning lark is horribly addictive. I'm not back online yet — just taking a swift cuppa break (and even then, said cuppa has just had to be nuked since I made it over an hour ago and forgot all about it). So this update comes via the iMac downstairs, and the uncomfortable squatting-on-the-floor editorial position. It's 16:23 and all's far from well upstairs so far. Though a lot less dusty. I don't even have my audio system working again, yet... No email, of course. But I can confirm the carpet is (basically) blue.
It's later than you blink...
At least I remembered to unplug Monsieur le Crockpot before my latest culinary minimalist piece (a sort of lamby stew with loads of other stuff) went supercritical. One of the XP systems is now back online (and seems to be running more quietly since I gave it a good sucking). The audio bits'n'bobs are a different matter, but they need slightly more careful planning and layout. Nothing in this study is quite as simple as I might like. Still, it's 18:26 and — having gorged somewhat at lunchtime (the downside of trying to buy economical food quantities for just one mouth and then managing to consume them before they develop lives of their own) — I should be able to make do with a simple evening meal before I resume trying to find places to put all the things I displaced to accommodate rather large speakers up here, either side of the "computing" desk.
Later still
To my surprise, I've managed to eliminate the switchbox from my audio system in the study. Excellent simplification. But the chaos elsewhere remains to be tamed. I listened to the Rimbaud Season in Hell, but only with partial concentration, so I guess I didn't do it justice. Sounded pretty weird, but I liked Robert Wyatt's voice. Now (22:52) it's raining yet again. Chances are not looking good for our next walk.
Scanner and printer are also now back online. And, in the process, I've discovered at least one of my USB ports at the back of the Gateway PC is low-speed. One lives and learns.