It seems that, regardless of how late you stayed up to read books and type ad nauseam in your little electronic journal, morning still arrives at exactly the time specified by those who study and work in celestial mechanics. I picture all those who study celestial mechanics (a type of mathematician that studies how planets and stars and comets go around and around and around and…) to be dressed in their own special coveralls, first names embroidered on patches above their hearts, and sprinkled with stardust. Or comet-dust or dark matter, if you have no overly-romantic bent.
Now there I go again… what did I mean to say? Good morning! I am off to enjoy my tea.
Morning tea, just brewing in the Bauhaus glass pot
It’s just the sort of morning that we all want to spend at home, enjoying. So I spend it inside, typing on a laptop. Green light filters down from all of the trees.
I have to stop looking through Zappo’s for walking shoes, and walk. Walking doesn’t exactly need special outfits. Many of my neighbors might be surprised at such a statement, though. They figure, if it’s worth doing, it’s worth buying a special suit of clothing for.
Lunch downtown with the Librarian, but not at the actual Library.
First of all, I must congratulate Other Patti for writing down my official 2000th comment yesterday! As a celebration, I don’t know what she will do, but I’m going out to get more sushi at lunchtime.
I slept late this morning, so Buck has gone out to find me some fruit (yes, I know I can change the time zone settings on my blog, but the thing is, as Ruben hinted at a bunch of posts ago, I forget to change the time zone back). Fruit is the one thing I crave that doesn’t (necessarily) have added sugar in it. What I find truly amazing is the sheer amount and variety of foodstuffs that have added sugar in them.
I am haphazardly still trying to follow the advice in my new favorite book, “Anticancer: A New Way of Life” (David Servan-Schreiber). Yes, I like it very much. However, it advises against sugar or honey (except as an occasional treat), and Buck and I are finding right now just how many things have hidden sugar in them. Organic evaporated cane juice seems harmless, but is still sugar. On the brighter side, I walked way over a mile yesterday — the book recommends a lot of exercise and activity. Hope I can keep that up today.
Again, I find myself in Miami Beach (or environs, rather — I am in a place north of MB called Sunny Isles). The tedium that you hear in the reading of that sentence has been building for several decades.
We always came down here for vacations, Easter vacation especially. I went to a catholic girls’ school, so we had Easter vacation instead of spring vacation; we were very non-PC. I remembered these vacations yesterday when our plane was near landing and I could see the palm trees on the ground. As a child, I never thought that the vacation really started until I could sight my first palm tree from the plane.
I started to hate Florida during high school when a vacation away from my friends with my parents was like a prison sentence. This sentiment held for a surprisingly long time: until my mother’s death four years ago.
Up until then, Mom would very forcefully “encourage” us to go only to the handful of places that she recognized/approved of. This included a golf club, a beach club (well, two of those until Dad died), and a couple of restaurants. When I voiced the desire to take the then-young Peter to Parrot Jungle, she looked badly astonished and talked as though I wanted to take him for a day jaunt in the wilds of Borneo.
So we put up with her whims, snuck out to Parrot Jungle or wherever when we could, and gritted our teeth until it was time to go home.
But then she died. And when we flew down here to help tie up the bits of her estate and sell her house, we found out an amazing thing: Miami Beach, and surrounding areas, is quite a wonderful place. Much to see, do, etc.
So it was with a smile yesterday that I found my first set of palm trees from the plane, and walked out into the steam-bath of Florida weather.
Pictures to come.
Peter came by late last night and picked up his puppy whom he dropped off here at 7:30 in the morning, of all the odd times. He’s usually not conscious at that time, and has carefully avoided all 8 and 9 o’clock classes.
So we had a wonderful puppy for the day, and I was sad to see her go just before bedtime. Maybe we’ll turn the house into a puppy day-care, for just one puppy.
Now playing on iTunes: Teardrop from the album “Mezzanine” by Massive Attack
I don’t know what made the producers of Cuil (no link on purpose) think they could be a “Google-killer,” but they neglected the part wherein their product actually has to work.
This morning, I tried searching on “esophageal cancer” to see what it would turn up. I got lists of “links” in certain categories; the categories were rather appropriate to the search. But, the links weren’t links. I had to go to a sub-page if I wanted the links to be clickable.
Here was the problem. Clicking on a link to a sub-page sent my browser into hijacked purgatory. I not only didn’t get the page of links, but got sent to those spurious sorts of pages that tell you that you have viruses, and would you like to buy their virus detection software?
I’ll not be going back to Cuil. Not unless I feel like being ad-spammed again.
Technorati Tags: Cuil, failure, search, google-killer
Today is Sunday. I must remember that! Why did it feel like Saturday this morning?
Pictures I took while walking around our neighborhood, with my friend Dee…
Beatrix wakes up. She has taken to snuggling me all night, so she gets firmly embedded in a blanket. But she is definitely not a morning type of dog. Neither am I (not a dog, at least, and not a morning person, definitely.)