"In a democracy (‘rule by mob’), those who refuse to learn from history will be the majority and will dictate that everyone else suffer for their ignorance."
Oh, happy-happy-joy-joy. I get to set the live trap for my Wonder Woman’s cat. . . again.
*sigh*
*Update*
Live trap + water and her fav food worked perfectly. THIS time, she didn’t have to contend with an opossum for her food and she’s back, now. Walked around crying for attention for a while, and is finally cuddled up next to my Wonder Woman (‘cos she’s too fat for a lap *heh*).
Disclaimer: I am no genius, and nor am I someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of darned near everything, but. . . I am an Odd, and my education is even Odd-er.
That may not explain to my readers why, when I read something written by a typical 20-something or older “grup” writer, I often just shake my head and compare their vocabulary, spelling, grammar, and knowledge base to an eleven or twelve-year-old. . . me.
Yeh, when I read a writer who has groped blindly for a suitable word and instead grasped an execrably UNsuitable word to use, I compare that writer’s vocabulary to my sixth grade self, partly because, while recovering from a second surgery, I discovered a set of vocabulary quizzes in a two-volume dictionary set (each volume at least four inches thick in large, oversized formats). Yes, I went through the college-level vocabulary test, NOT because I was “smarter” than the average sixth grader, just because I had read more, even before becoming temporarily restricted physically, but VORACIOUSLY more so during that restricted period.
And that, combined with my fundamentally Odd way of looking at reality, probably defined as much of the next sixty years of my life, as much as simply being an Odd has in general. And so, people with a Stupid Level Vocabulary™ (and often even stupider level grasp of syntax, orthography, and basic arithmetic, physical mechanics, and life in general) probably tend to irk me more than is useful.
Glitter is often so horribly misused that, at times, it seems to have been spawned from hell, but any reasonable person would prefer a “whoop” of preschoolers tweaked on a sugar high and given unlimited bags of glitter at a funeral to a drag queen show in kindergarten.
That’s all I’m sayin’ about that.
Reason # 4,967 why I love cooking meals in my pressure air fryer: 1. Sauteed a seasoned roast. 2. Pressure cooked it. 3. Added veggies and slow-cooked it all for a MUCH shorter time than I’d ordinarily need to to have the meat just fall apart the way I wanted (this time — other times? *shrugs* depends on my whimsy).
Today’s “most fun chore” was repotting nearly all our houseplants (almost all brought inside last week from their summer vacation), including a pot full of “outdoor plants” (marigolds and onions – yeh, they like each other). They all enjoyed their summer vacation so much, that the 8 inch pots graduated to 12-inchers, and the lone 4-inch pot graduated to an 8-incher. They’ve been sitting near the French doors and under a couple of grow lights for the past week, and seem to already be happy with their larger “rooms.”
We’ll just see if we can keep from “brown-thumbing” ’em over winter. . . *heh*
. . .for the swelling in my fingers to go down enough that I can wear my wedding ring. Wearing a silver substitute that’s larger. . . on the little finger of that hand.
Combo: unstable knee + walking a 10-month-old German Shepherd puppy + avoiding traffic + unseen dip off side of road + avoiding falling ON the puppy = bad fall and hyper-extended fingers on left hand. Bruising and swelling in hand almost entirely gone, but fingers still swollen. Can almost make a fist n ow, though, so progress!
I’ll give it another month before I’m concerned enough to seek more help. Checkup a couple of weeks ago, doctor thought it was doing about as well as could be expected. Chores activity limited by lack of grip in that hand, but am still partially able to work task list.
Drug cartels may be filled with murderers, rapists, drug dealers, and “human traffickers,” but at least they aren’t FBI, IRS, or ATF agents, so there’s that.
I didn’t know I was an Odd at age 5, but I went through a phase where I walked around imagining myself touching things with an eleven foot pole that I would NOT touch with a ten foot pole. “Practiced my hammer throw” getting the neighbor’s obnoxious tomcat back over the fence to their back yard. Tried to lure monsters out from under the bed to play with at night. Just normal stuff for me.
Nowadays? On long drives, I have sometimes amused myself by mentally (is there any other way?) converting mph to kph (mph*1.6214 gets close enough). Sure, I could just read the kph off the “wee numbers” on the speedometer, but that’s no fun. “Funner” to check the “big numbers” and do the simple multiplication. I’m sure you do similar things.
I’ve enjoyed the Heinlein-esque space opera by John Hindmarsh via Kindle Unlimited, so in memory of John and the pleasure he has afforded me (as well as in very minor support of his wife, Cathy), I’ve begun buying those space operas instead of just giving a wee tip via Kindle Unlimited. It’s a small thing but within my reach.
The next one (started by John and finished by Craig Martelle, with permission) drops on September 20th: You Don’t Know Jack. It’s a little Heinlein mixed with C. S. Forester series. A nice antidote/anodyne to the poisonous pain of Suckitudinous Fiction.
Here in America’s Third World County™ the local “Squirrel-run POTS Company” went “all fiber” to our house a decade ago, and still offers dead-bunny-through-a-straw DSL. ‘Cos that’s just the way they roll, I guess. My Cat6 cabling inside – yes, on the POTS line, too – is better than their “fiber” line for data. *shrugs* I’m just glad they do not offer a “service” changing light bulbs.