Category: Penny Delights

The boy drew a large oval with eyes, nostrils, and a smile.

He proudly presented this egg to mom.

We asked him to sign the drawing.

To help, I wrote his name in big letters, all uppercase as an architect would.

My daughter stepped in and taught him proper capitalization.

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Whence things have their origin,
Thence also their destruction happens,
As is the order of things;
For they execute the sentence upon one another
– The condemnation for the crime –
In conformity with the ordinance of Time.

The sole surviving fragment from the philosophy of Anaximander.

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The smell of baking bread is the height of luxury domesticity.

But the past five years have turned it a warning of the looming exam.

Will it rise?
Will be pretty?
Is this loaf a “failure”?

The bread lines of war put me to shame.

This aroma should only be a source of joy.

Beware of the hedonic treadmill.

Let us accept our nourishment with constant gratitude.

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A big, red bug bit Gus.

Last night, the boy read a simple sentence from a Phonics Pathways, 9th ed.

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The girl took her GATE test.

She did very well. And got carsick on the way home.

Life balances itself out.

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While she was out, I read the boy a story. He pointed to a fence and said “这是姐姐的 (this is older sister’s) gate test”.

I laughed.

He beamed.

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Art does not lie down on the bed that is made for it; it runs away as soon as one says its name; it loves to be incognito. Its best moments are when it forgets what it is called.

Jean Dubuffet via Seth Godin

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Yesterday morning, I spent half an hour serching for a good divider on these posts. It needed to be noticable but subtle, for the blog and the newsletter email.

It was an inefficient use of time for a utterly trivial matter.

I’ll blame the my inner architect.

This was the least worst option I could find.

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The kids used our air mattress pump to inflate twelve balloons.

We threw them at each other over the half wall between our living and playrooms.

It was an evening of pastel latex globes straining to float over to the other side.

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Strong doesn’t mean weak. Strong is brave and ready to fight for the life of his citizens and citizens of the world. For human rights, for freedom, for the right to live decently, and to die when your time comes.

Volodymyr Zelensky, 16 March 2022

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I slept horribly. At first, I blamed it on the time change.

Then I realized it was the kombucha we just bought.

Of course, fermented tea has caffiene!

Working from home has drastically reduced my intake of stimulants and greatly improved my sensitivity to drugs.

This great Costco sale turned out to be a dud.

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The boy found a backpack. She added a leash.

She’s leading him around the dining room. He’s barking like a dog.

They’ve recreated the album cover in Spinal Tap.

I woke up stressed about all the stuff we had to do.

Started the morning with an arguement.

Rough.

A little at a time and suddenly there’s a feeling of impending accomplishment.

We still have plenty to do, but less than twelve hours ago.

My parents brought us vegetables from their garden.

I sat with my mom in the shade of the apple tree.

She stripped goji leaves off their twigs. The kids rode their scooters on the patio.

Is there a more powerful magick than a quiet afternoon with dappled light?

The evening went to the park.

Kids had fun.

We saw purple hills and orange skies.

And ate a tardy dinner.