Now, that is the sort of thing I wish to hear; excellent.
That means that the quality of the paper must be pretty good.
Do enjoy using it.
And thank you for thinking of me.
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Now, that is the sort of thing I wish to hear; excellent.
That means that the quality of the paper must be pretty good.
Do enjoy using it.
And thank you for thinking of me.
Actually I recently found out that life becomes much longer once we slow down and take the time to do things properly, and slowly. It's certainly not always possible, but in this fast paced world, the slow passage of time is often an amazing feeling.
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Couple of week ago I dedicated my morning coffee to you, for the record
It was an especially good one from a local roastery, and I thought "I am sure that she would enjoy this!" Ah PRSI is bleeding into my real life!!!
Which is why I will still sit down to eat at a table, that has a table cloth, table mats and placings, with properly laid cutlery and crockery, even on the rare occasions I order a takeaway, rather than cooking for myself.
It is not just important - but imperative - to take the time to appreciate and savour things, to take the time to live life properly.
And sip my coffee slowly, from a proper ceramic or china cup of mug.
[QUOTE="yaxomoxay, post: 27633448, member: 413301"
Couple of week ago I dedicated my morning coffee to you, for the record
It was an especially good one from a local roastery, and I thought "I am sure that she would enjoy this!" Ah PRSI is bleeding into my real life!!![/QUOTE]Thank you.
What a kind thought.
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Yes! It's just simply beautiful, and mind clearing. Actually this is probably what surprises me the most, how much my mind becomes clear after I do things taking the time to do them properly. Even sitting down, maybe with a coffee, looking at nature for one or two hours, certainly without a phone and possibly not even a book, can be an incredible experience of natural sensory stimulation. Just how clear the sounds of nature (from a turtledove singing, to drops of water, to the light wind) become is astounding.
When abroad, I love having a coffee (or, occasionally a beer) in one of those pavement cafes, just relaxing, people watching, atmosphere sampling, chilling and enjoying the experience.
If someone has a good newspaper, or periodical, or magazine, this is where I will most enjoy - and take pleasure in - reading it.
I decided to buy the Virgin Islands. But wait, there’s more...if I act today I get the Falklands too. (Sorry UK.)
All the things I'd do differently for version two.
There was an awkward intermediate stage when I was done with the hacksaw and just had a really tiny Zippo.
There was an awkward intermediate stage when I was done with the hacksaw and just had a really tiny Zippo.
I think I’ve spotted a flaw!All the things I'd do differently for version two.
There was an awkward intermediate stage when I was done with the hacksaw and just had a really tiny Zippo.
All the things I'd do differently for version two.
There was an awkward intermediate stage when I was done with the hacksaw and just had a really tiny Zippo.
Awesome! Now roll a hakki sack up in a short sleeve gray t-shirt with Jive sunglasses and you’re all set to rent a Lime to cruise downtown.
In the city I was such a people-watcher sometimes that I drove myself to distraction... even ended up riding past my stop in the trains more than a few times... once late at night while watching a couple of women who had apparently finished a shift of office cleaning and who had exited my workplace same time as I did, hit the same train platform and so there we were heading uptown "together".
They were killing the boredom of their commute by chatting with each other --part of my distraction was trying to identify the kind of language they were speaking and whether it might be some sort of lingua franca for both or perhaps the native language of only one of them. I like how you can tell sometimes that what's being spoken is not someone else's first language, even if it's a language with roots in which you have no experience at all. Anyway it was not the Croatian that one of them (whom I knew slightly) sometimes spoke to another office cleaner in my workplace.
That it was a hopeless prospect I'd be able to figure out what particular or formal language they were using --since even linguistics experts end up arguing over features of assorted 'sprachbund' of the Balkans-- did not deter me from my eavesdropping. Meanwhile both of them were engaged in handmaking the most beautiful lace, well one of them was attaching a row of it to what looked to be an ornate pillow cover, perhaps a wedding gift.
So as to distraction: I had meant to depart the train at 96th to stop in at a Chinese restaurant, but I'd overshot the mark by five stops and so landed at 137th, one of those no-transfer stops where I actually had to exit the system, cross the road, re-enter and pay another fare to wait 15 minutes for a southbound train at that hour. It was either that or spring for a cab which again at that hour was going to take awhile. But of course that never deterred me from some sort of repeat performance the next time someone's activities on a train became my focus of attention.
People-watching was my just my alternative entertainment when a book or magazine didn't seem to cut it for one of those late night commutes. It was a great way of making the trip into more than a series of bored glances out the window at the station names on the way uptown. Hah and yet I was always surprised when I would remember to have a look and discover to my annoyance that I'd missed my stop yet again.
In the city I was such a people-watcher sometimes that I drove myself to distraction... even ended up riding past my stop in the trains more than a few times... once late at night while watching a couple of women who had apparently finished a shift of office cleaning and who had exited my workplace same time as I did, hit the same train platform and so there we were heading uptown "together".
They were killing the boredom of their commute by chatting with each other --part of my distraction was trying to identify the kind of language they were speaking and whether it might be some sort of lingua franca for both or perhaps the native language of only one of them. I like how you can tell sometimes that what's being spoken is not someone else's first language, even if it's a language with roots in which you have no experience at all. Anyway it was not the Croatian that one of them (whom I knew slightly) sometimes spoke to another office cleaner in my workplace.
That it was a hopeless prospect I'd be able to figure out what particular or formal language they were using --since even linguistics experts end up arguing over features of assorted 'sprachbund' of the Balkans-- did not deter me from my eavesdropping. Meanwhile both of them were engaged in handmaking the most beautiful lace, well one of them was attaching a row of it to what looked to be an ornate pillow cover, perhaps a wedding gift.
So as to distraction: I had meant to depart the train at 96th to stop in at a Chinese restaurant, but I'd overshot the mark by five stops and so landed at 137th, one of those no-transfer stops where I actually had to exit the system, cross the road, re-enter and pay another fare to wait 15 minutes for a southbound train at that hour. It was either that or spring for a cab which again at that hour was going to take awhile. But of course that never deterred me from some sort of repeat performance the next time someone's activities on a train became my focus of attention.
People-watching was my just my alternative entertainment when a book or magazine didn't seem to cut it for one of those late night commutes. It was a great way of making the trip into more than a series of bored glances out the window at the station names on the way uptown. Hah and yet I was always surprised when I would remember to have a look and discover to my annoyance that I'd missed my stop yet again.
My mother adored people watching, especially when she was abroad and didn't always know the language. She would come home with hilarious tales of the things she had seen (and sometimes, overheard).
People watching is an art that is getting lost by the day. It’s simply phenomenal if done with some sensibility and common sense.
Sensibility, sensitivity, discretion and common sense.
But, agreed, done properly - and my mother was an absolute pro at people watching: She was small, and cheerful, and could assume a most wonderfully blank expression that she could deploy with great cunning and to great effect on occasion which meant everyone assumed that she was switched off - nobody would ever have seen her as a threat of any description.
I prefer watching the birds. They can be quite humorous at times. Like when the small blue tit came for a wash today.
The larger sparrows didn’t attack him, just kept standing very close to where he was washing. When he moved to a different part of the bird bath, one lady sparrow followed 3 or 4 times.
Doesn’t sound that funny, but it was to watch.
The larger sparrows didn’t attack him, just kept standing very close to where he was washing. When he moved to a different part of the bird bath, one lady sparrow followed 3 or 4 times.
Doesn’t sound that funny, but it was to watch.
Well, Mother thought people were fascinating, and could be hilarious, and loved working out how a group of people might relate to one another.
Oh they can be so comical... barn swallows dive-bombing the hapless feral cat that strolls past my open barn door in spring looking for any sign that a fledgling has fallen off the rafters... just wow. Who knew a cat could run so fast with its belly so close to the ground.
So I do love watching the birds that occupy "my turf" every year. This spring there was a wren who nested on a tool-shelf inside a walk-in coldframe that has a piece of one roof panel missing this season. What an opportunist! That coldframe, unused this year, has always had a climbing rosebush growing in its east end, the only place that variety could survive our winters... and so she found its thorny sprawl quite welcome as a deterrent against any other opportunistic nesting site seekers.
Well as you probably know wrens are terrible scolds, and I laughed all spring every time I walked out on my deck --which is near enough to the coldframe for her to notice-- and she would come charging out of there flinging all manner of imprecations about what would happen if I got any closer or god forbid opened that coldframe door.
She even tracks what's going on above that missing piece of roof panel, I noticed one evening as I went to close a crank-out window in the stairwell landing. She saw that happening and flew up at the thing as if to attack it, if it should think to descend upon her abode. She was sitting on eggs then though, and was completely silent as she flew up to see what that closing window was all about. I had to wait for her babies to fledge out before I could get that roof panel fixed...
Tweaked a deep muscle somewhere in my side or back. No pain, just feels strange.
On the topic of people watching, I do it, too. I think it's fairly normal for older generations but I know younger people do it now, too. Being aware of your surroundings is always a good thing.
When sent overseas or even here at home back in the day, we were told to be alert all the time. I believe military and law enforcement globally follows the same protocol. I'd argue everyone should be scanning everything all the time.
On the topic of people watching, I do it, too. I think it's fairly normal for older generations but I know younger people do it now, too. Being aware of your surroundings is always a good thing.
When sent overseas or even here at home back in the day, we were told to be alert all the time. I believe military and law enforcement globally follows the same protocol. I'd argue everyone should be scanning everything all the time.
I hope you recover quickly! I have done that once in awhile usually when wrestling stuff around in the garden, like 4-foot square chicken wire cages I put over young transplants early in the season. Usually I'd forget I'd asked more of my body than I should have so was mystified later when it complained...
Well people had no smartphones while I worked in the city, so on the trains it was either read a book or paper, read a paper over someone else's shoulder (a practice so common that no one remarked on it), or else just unobtrusively watch people and pass the time imagining (or sometimes just truly wondering!) what they were all about, where going, what they were up to.
One could see some pretty amazing stuff being transported on the trains in the off hours. I lived out in Brooklyn for awhile at a former school roommate's parents' place before we both found jobs and and a walk-up apartment in Manhattan. As the train moved through central Brooklyn or after crossing the river and getting into the Lower East Side, we often saw people moving stuff like big kitchen sinks, coffins, display-window mannequins (not usually dressed), once a grocery-shopping cart full of what looked like three or four 19th century taffeta ballgowns.
It was half a zoo sometimes but almost always entertaining. I can see why writers love hanging out in big cities, there are a dozen stories there for every block you walk while heading to the bus or home from the train. And for anyone professionally interested in foreign languages, NYC's trains have always been a great place to hang out and find a new dialect or follow one to its neighborhood, and the Brooklyn-Manhattan run offered plenty of options, although apparently Queens is still the best place to find speakers of most of the 800 or so languages spoken in the metro area.
Your quoting is messed up. I looked at that map and spotted a few languages I know don't extend past New York and to an extent, maybe Massachusetts because the amount of speakers are so slim.
It's so small that you could probably get rid of their entire global population in less than a year if you were some nutty dictator.
It's so small that you could probably get rid of their entire global population in less than a year if you were some nutty dictator.
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So long as even a handful of speakers anywhere in the world still know a language, the Endangered Language Alliance will try to help it remain a viable language. They are a really interesting outfit. Still their current count is not what my linked piece had suggested. ELA says currently the count is 631 different languages at 970 metro area sites.
Here'd a video with some of the stuff they are focusing on.
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Recurring story.
“This month I am not buying any book!”
$50 in books later... “well, maybe next month.”
“This month I am not buying any book!”
$50 in books later... “well, maybe next month.”
That could almost be boilerplate to stand in place of assorted justifications of my own unauthorized expansions of the books budget:
"Well this is sort of related to my grocery budget. It's about sustainable agriculture, and reducing carbon footprints and stuff, eating less meat... saving money!"
What, as justification for having bought yet another book off budget?
Heck, I don't usually even bother trying to justify it. I just roll eyes and say yeah I did it (yet again) but I did it before the electric bill came... preferably while queuing up B.B.King and U2 singing "When Love Comes To Town"