I just saw a girl walk by with green white and orange balloons. I was struck by a sudden strong desire for whiskey before noon (a traditional holiday observance at certain universities, not to name names), which subsided only when I realised it was already after 12. Not in Boston, though, so I retain the option for some point in the next 4 hours. (Which will probably make it easier to actually get whiskey, as I suspect liquor laws prevent sales before noon. I’m not sure whether this is more likely to affect drunks or just people trying to get their shopping done.)
Possibly my favourite sentence so far today (sadly not from my research):
I’m proud to say that I now make a full-time living as a professional yurt builder.
It’s possible I’m a little jealous. It sounds like a pretty great job. I always liked building portable structures. One summer I remember as a summer of playing Gypsy with our flexible flyer “gypsy wagon”woo and setting up encampments all over the woods and field. (Roma, Travellers and any other appropriate terminology flew right over my head at that age, and as to this day I’ve never actually seen anyone of a similar background, I had little to nothing to go on.)
These days I mostly just go camping. It doesn’t stop us from creating the best encampments ever. Our last encampment featured a sapling table, which we actually used to make and eat dinner and play games. The fairy lights strung on poles around the top provided the crowning touch, along with a fair amount of light.
The Old Frisian word is used for ‘marriage’ and ‘guardianship’. To/of a woman, of course. My little feminist soul hurts.
Got caught up in reading feminist blogs. So much is wrong. Now the rest of my soul hurts, too. I really need to remember: one article at a time. Maybe two. Not a whole year of archives at a time. Since I usually read about permaculture and other happy things, this is a thing I forget when I read about less cheerful topics. I feel like I really should have gotten more out of the two hours I just didn’t spend on research. I think I’ve cheated myself, somehow. Remember, kids: the internet is not just a toy.