As we took our seats, I looked out through 40-foot tall windows lit up beautifully by the setting sun.
Not.
Whoa.
You know those tall balloon figures that sway as if in the wind but it’s not really wind, it’s variable bursts of air from a compressor or something? The ones that look as if they’re about to fall over backward and then jerk upright? The ones used to attract attention to used-car lots and similar establishments? Sure you do, although my description might not convince you of that. This would be simpler if they had a name.
Not a fan of balconies: the higher, the worser. Sometimes, though, getting an uncomfortable distance off the ground provides a different perspective. Here’s just such a perspective from Winnipeg last weekend, just before sunset.
As seen on a recent trip to Winnipeg, one art card offered at least four faces/characters. Can four faces appear by accident in one piece of graphic art, just as a function of the underlying design or style choices? Whether by chance or intention, here they are, top to bottom . . .
And his face is even green!
Don’t skip this step.
I’m scanning a recipe for sourdough challah — not that I make sourdough or challah but where’s there’s life there’s hope and the word foolproof in the title drew me in, I admit it — and I stop dead in my figurative tracks. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this instruction in a recipe or, indeed, in any set of instructions.
Cover the dough with a damp towel
and rest for 15 mins to relax the gluten.
Don’t skip this step.
We’re going to jump over the question of who is supposed to rest for 15 minutes – the dough or me – because it amounts to the same thing. If the dough is resting, the dough is resting. If I’m resting, the dough is, perforce, resting. Moving on.
Some are already done. Some are going full bore. Some are just starting.
We fall into the latter category.
Last year at about this time I was taking mental-health breaks from daily and day-long attendance at the Heart Institute. Two blocks west of the hospital I discovered a slightly scruffy but entirely magnificent magnolia tree in its full-bore stage. That stage never lasts long, but it’s wonderful while it does.
Your password has been successfully changed.
I wonder in passing what an unsuccessfully changed password would look like, but I keep reading.
If you did not make this change . . .
Guys. How could a change I did not make be described as “successful” in any way? I keep reading.
If you did not make this change
or believe your account has been accessed
by an unauthorized person,
please contact . . .
We have a green plastic patio chair in the scant half of our barely double garage that stores various non-vehicular stuff:
And she calls right at 8:00!
I’m kinda eavesdropping as one member of a small-group Zoom call quietly advises a potential member of said group about . . . what, exactly? That I start the calls on time? What in the world are the options?
Calling even a few minutes ahead of the appointed hour would be rude: Folks might not be ready to take the call. Oh, no! That’s my call! Ack! Followed by a mad dash from the microwave where a cup of tea is re-heating to the desk with the laptop.
Calling anytime after the appointed hour would also be rude: Folks who’d been ready on time would be kept waiting and wondering. Do I have the wrong time? The wrong day? Have they decided they don’t like me?
The conclusion is obvious, innit? Call at the appointed hour. Start the 8:00 call at, well, 8:00.
2026 May 30: Here's the front/backyard this week:
