Passive Voice Was Used

I'm pretty sure that if I move to Iowa City, I'll have to quit my day job because the 80s bluegrass coverband I start with Lorin will take up too much of my time.

I share this with you because I want you to know what I've been thinking about. Instead of contemplating the many witty things that I might use this forum for expressing, I've been pondering the bluegrass instrumentation of Sunglasses at Night.

This is the kind of thing that can distract you. For instance, I was distracted while pondering just this weekend while I was leafblowing. The air intake became blocked. Which caused the engine to overheat in a slightly smokey, totally brokey kind of way. And I had to get out my rake.

If you think that an 80s bluegrass cover band is the kind of thing that will only amuse me for so long, you obviously don't know me very well.

Here's another thing:
I can't tell you how upset it used to make me that I had to walk out of that door, east to the walkway, then down the walkway, the go back west. That is, until I started walking out the door, straight off the ledge, through the grass and then turning right onto the sidewalk. It was just such a waste!

Next week: I'm still lazy.

There are things I am in not in control of.

This weekend, I spent some quality time on Friday evening weeding my books and cleaning the upstairs of my house. It was soothing. I've got three boxes of books to get rid of, leaving me with five boxes of books and three boxes of binders in the closet. The entire upstairs, save the desk and the two chairs, fits into the closet. Which seems small at first.

I've got some other stuff to do upstairs. (I have things to do everywhere).
First, to secure the doors to the attic. Which the cats figured out how to open. (While I'm a supporter of my cats' ingenuity, I'm not a fan of them hanging out in the insulation. Unless they're killing things.)
Second, I've got to paint.
Third, I've got to build some bookshelves.
Maybe later, I've got to figure out if I want to put some climate control up there, what kind, and then do that.

I've set a timeline for that whole deal. But I'm not telling you.

If you're wondering why I've been so silent here, it's because I stopped caring a while back. So, maybe I'll try to work on that, too.

All Pointy

My dad is passing the torch. Not the literal torch, but rather the giving me all of his stuff because he lives in a small house without a garage torch. Each time he comes to visit me he brings me new delights. It gives new life to his stuff and gives me all what I need. I mean, why buy a new book about tablesaw techniques when you can have the one my dad bought in the seventies. The amount that his old stuff makes me happy only underscores the fact that I am just like my dad was at this age, only without the two children. and also many, many other differences. but basically the same.

So, among the things that my father gave me was a small grinding mill for the sharpening of no longer pointy things. And an entire book about sharpening things. Have I talked about this before? Well, it's very exciting.

Some people know this about me. Some of those people also work with me. Which led to the following interaction at work.

Colleague: Can you help me with something?
Me: Sure!
Colleague: Would you be able to sharpen a machete?
Me: YES!
Colleague: *pulls out machete and puts it on my desk*

I'm still not sure which part of that was the most awesome. I did learn one thing, don't piss off a biologist, never know what they've got up their sleeve.

Because the machete (MACHETE!!!!) was given to me at work, and I walk to work, I got to walk home carrying the machete. This is what I learned while carrying a machete home: holding a machete feeeels gooood. You just want to... swing it. yeah.

Dull machete:

That's a long knife.

I was so stoked about this project that I just went and did it as soon as I got home. Sharpen sharpen sharpen. I was seated almost level with the mill, which is a wet mill, and it'll leave a mark:

that's all the not pointy tiny metal parts. What's left is pointy, and also shiny!

Truth be told, it could be pointier. But I don't want to be creepy about it. and it gets the job done.

one not very hard swing will get you:


Holy crap, it felt so good. I had to run over to a nearby jungle and cut myself a path, which was pretty fun, but the machete could have been sharper.

I love being a resource.

slackers, squares, and piercing wit.

What? I had a week-long birthday celebration.

My plan is to suck it up and call some people, and to both make curtains and build a workshop.

And to re-invigorate my wit.

shut up.

I do want to draw your attention to my mother's comment about my bike seat, which is perhaps the greatest ever:

The design on the bicycle seat is a damselfly, not a butterfly. They are different. The damselfly is asexual. Even though the seat is pink.

I think it stands on it's own merits.