clickies!

Still no writing done. *kicks can* Fortunately all I have to do today before I leave at 3 for my movie is laundry (already started) and perhaps a small load of dishes.

Still. *dark angry muttering*

From the most excellent wordweaverlynn (at least I'm pretty sure it was her): Tidal icequakes in Antarctica.

From the also-most-excellent canyoncat: Missing Cape Cod lighthouse found in California.

fine feathers for fine birds (4/?)

Bird geekery continues. Short even for this 'verse, but I'll take anything at this point in the block.

Late that afternoon, when the sunbeams were lazy and long and the ravens had come down from the trees and were trying to rouse their boy from his pensive funk by presenting him with shiny objects, the door to the little house opened again.

Corbin looked up and tried to swallow the surge of hope that rose in his throat at the sound of squeakng hinges.

It was not Columba: Columba walked with grace and precision, her doves perched on her shoulders like quiet guardians. Whoever this was was loud and exuberant, chattery. Wild, noisy blurs of blue feathers trailed in her wake.

"Hi." she said cheerfully, sticking out a hand. "I'm Jaye, Col's sister. You need anything?"

"You're not going to tell me to quit?"

"Eh, you'll do what you want." One of her flock - a Steller juvenile with its blue adult feathers just growing in - landed on her shoulder and chattered something in her ear. She tipped her head and grinned at it, scratching the top of its head with a blue-tipped fingernail. "We're Corvidae, both of us - nobody tells us what to do, am I right?"

Corwin smiled a little. "Yeah, you are."

"Anyway, I'll try and haul Col's tail out here soon. She's just skittish - doves." Jaye rolled her eyes. "Any chance you can get that hawk-boy to come back sometime? He was pretty dreamy."

"Sure thing. I - I really do just want to talk to her, you know." He held out a shiny pebble, something one of the ravens had brought. "Thanks, Jaye."

"Yeah, I know. Anything for a fellow Corvidae." Jaye winked: the pebble disappeared in her palm, and she turned back toward the house in a flourish of layered skirts and feathered pigtails.

things that do not make sense, chapter several zillion in the past thirty one years

Was talking to a nanny provider (lovely woman, really very nice) and she said that she was glad she got a chance to talk to me instead of before when she'd been dealing with Chris because "you're a mom and I want to know what works for you."

... what? What does the fact that I provided an egg instead of a sperm for this kid have anything to do with this? Do not understand. Parent = parent, in my book. I am confused now.

She wasn't trying to be rude, but I think she was referring to something or trying to get something across that I didn't recieve. Maybe I dropped off the Mommies server and am no longer recieving updates? Maybe this is what happens in all those playgroups I try to avoid. They lock you up in borg regeneration cells and update your firmware. That would actually explain a lot.

moar clickies

My girlfriend is a geek and I think that's hot. <3 She sends me links about Cassini moonlets and a guy building a baby planet. Moonlets and planetlets. Mmmmm.

(My internet wife is an engineer and that is also hot. I love them both to bits.)

---

I read an article about this a few days ago and I want to go to Strasbourg to see the real thing now: the Strasbourg astronomical clock. It's all gears and mechanics and it's accurate up to the year 9999. Including Easter. The guy built an algorithm out of gears to calculate Easter. And it's accurate. I would love to be there at the start of a new year to see it all change ...

And a different kind of engineering: Home for Alzheimer's patients in Germany builds fake bus stop outside its doors. Their reasoning is fascinating. (seen in several places on my flist.)

A Kind of Cockle-Shell About You: The Commentary Track

Title: A Kind of Cockle-Shell About You: The Commentary Track
Author: phinnia
Rating: NC-17 for the original; my comments aren't that risque, but since they're inline with the text of the story it's still that I guess.
Disclaimer: I own myself, my thoughts are still free for the moment, but I am not David Shore.
Author's Note: for ficcommentary, horribly late because I got sidetracked by something, probably sick. If you haven't read the original it's probably better to read that first, so here's a handy link: A Kind of Cockle-Shell About You. And if you want to come back afterward and read me nattering about it, well, you can do that too.
( you give me an inch and i'll take a mile: natterings about the fic, film references, meatloaf sandwiches and Paula Deen inside. )

twits

( all back here. )