Oops. I guess I should resolve to post more regularly when there’s not a World Cup on. Fortunately, that’s nearly over. My library books are down to a number that can be counted on fingers*, with none of them overdue. I’m even making headway on finally reading a bunch of loans from friends, which have been languishing disapprovingly on a shelf because I’ve been trying to keep up with the library loans. I have also managed to not kill any of the plants in the edible garden, which means I now need to find out just what one does with a metricassloadofzucchini.
I’ve also, in my abundant spare time, taken up genealogy. I may need to turn in a whole new round of interlibrary requests, because I have a feeling the answers to my questions about how representative various branches of my family are of the immigrant experience lie in academic libraries. (I always thought the trip from the old country was a one-way ticket. Not so much.) I’ve also learned that Ancestry.com is addictive- those hints suck you in!
We had a terrific thunderstorm last night 2:30ish. (I know because it woke me up- it was that loud.) At the end of the storm, we still had power, which was slightly surprising.
It’s suddenly proper summer, which means my commute home (on a bike) was utterly disgusting. Stopping at tje library made it worse, because after a few minutes in the air conditioning, going back out to get sweatier is that much worse.
Also, humans are stupid. We build heat sinks. All that lovely black road surface just absorbs heat. Lack of greenery around to intercept any of the incoming sunlight makes it that much worse. There’s got to be a better way. We should work on that.
Ok, the ‘read books and watch football’ experiment went about as well as you’d expect. Not much reading happened, as there was too much happening with FRA-HON. Reading is happening during halftime. Between tweeting and texting. Remind me what World Cups used to be like without social media?
Have decided to try watching the World Cup while reading some of those books. (Several are overdue and really need to go back to the library tomorrow. In addition to my library card being the only card I max out regularly, it’s also the only card I ever pay late fees on.)
So, France-Honduras while reading Exodus. (Will update this post later with links. And possibly thought on the match.)
It’s gorgeous outside. My garden looks great. There’s a World Cup on. Tonight is the last episode of Game of Thrones. I have no less than 25 books I should read right now. Which is all to say there is so much I could be doing right now that it’s one of those times I wish I could be four people at once so I wouldn’t have to worry about having to pick just one thing to do.
I need to figure out a system to space out my library books so they’re due in ones and twos instead of stacks of six and seven. Especially since I prioritize my reading. Reading 3 books tonight and 3 tomorrow is a tall order, even for me. (I haven’t even started 4 of the 6 yet.)
Better go find a quiet spot to get stuck into reading.
Sounds like the worst person in the world, right? Only until you read the actual article Jezebel is on its high horse about and find out it’s a countersuit to the one the parents of the dead teen filed. Oh, and then you Google and discover that the police report concluded visibility of the cyclists was the main factor in the accident and that the prosecutor advised against filing charges due to no reasonable prospect for conviction.
Sorry, cyclists, but if you decide to go biking at 1:30am on a rainy night wearing dark clothing and you get hit, that’s on you. Even if this woman was stone cold sober and driving cautiously with a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, she still could have hit them. Because they were being stupid. Yeah, I said it- these kids are at fault for their own misfortune, and the parents are frankly nuts to be suing.
How do I know this? Because I’m a cyclist who also drives on occasion. And I’ve almost hit teenagers biking at night who apparently think the reflectors on their pedals are enough. Believe me, they’re not. The closest call I ever had, I never even saw the kid until he was already in my headlights testing my brakes. He thought all black on a dark night was fashionable and darting out from the sidewalk without looking was daring. I thought he was damn lucky not to be on his way to the ER or the morgue.
Cyclists, it sucks, but it is on you to make sure you’re as safe as you can make yourself. When I’m on my bike at night, best believe I am all about making sure car drivers can see me. There are lights. Lots of lights. Lights on my bike, lights on my helmet, and I’ve toyed with the idea of wearable lights for me. If I had the cash, there’s an LED light strip designed for maximum visibility that I would love to have. (Note to self: find out if price on it has dropped.) There is reflective clothing- I will wear my reflective jacket at night no matter how hot it is, because I like not dying.
This is not me. But clearly this cyclist wants to live.
Because, dear cyclists, the sad reality is this- if there is an accident, you’re the one who will come off worst. You are not surrounded by multiple tons of plastic and metal designed to protect you in the event of a collision. You are the one who will experience the wonderful world of physics with nothing but the helmet you are hopefully wearing correctly protecting you. So try to do what you can to avoid it.
People in modern times have lives online as well as offline. Social media presence often outlasts us. I doubt a lot of surviving families give any thought in their grieving on how to handle the online life of the deceased. But sometimes it just gets creepy.
A cousin of mine recently passed away. Without giving too many details, let me say that he suffered from a degenerative disease, and we knew he was in the final stages. It was not sudden, or a surprise. He, like many of us, was on Facebook. He played Candy Crush. I know, because until he got too ill to play, we used to send each other lives. His account has not been shut down or removed from Candy Crush. Every once in a while, Candy Crush asks me if I’d like to give my cousin a life.
