When I was a boy, people would say, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Of course, I hadn't decided -- still haven't. But, often, I'd ultimately say, "Happy." "Oh, no, no..." they'd start, condescendingly, "you didn't understand the question." "And I don't think you understand life."
One sheet of very inexpensive, workshop-grade plywood is now a prototype of a 23" x 47" coffee table. Pay no attention to that couch. It's hideous, yes. It's very temporary. So, now it's clear why I had a bit of India ink. I'd heard last summer that it seemed to be gaining popularity in use… Continue reading Prototype The 𝓷th
After an absolutely abysmal effort at an assessment of an older skill, it occurs to me that either I was over-interpreting the questions or that it's definitely time to clear out the proverbial skills fridge and delete the much older skills from it. Nah, I'm not going to delete bash from the Skills list. In… Continue reading Time to Clean Out the Skills Fridge?
On the eleventh hourOf the eleventh dayOf the eleventh monthThe guns fell silent Take two minutes silence to observe and contemplate the sacrifices that we'd made then, now, and in the future.
There, solved. Both the fixture and the bulb. Good for another 65 years of life. To whomever inherits the result, you're welcome.