When I was a kid, snow meant sledding, snotty nose, wind-burn, and sometimes a few bruises. Later, it meant walks in the woods with my dogs, who (as dogs do) acted as though it was all some magical special effect I had put on for their amusement.
Usually, I hibernate during the holidays, and use them as an excuse to unplug, not talk to anyone, and pretend that I’m busy.
Last winter, I was planning a group fossil-hunting expedition for this fall. The coronavirus wrecked that plan, along with many others.
I’m going to be 60 in 2022, and I’m already falling apart a bit.
Looks like FTB is going wild! I see a ton of great shameless commerce going on, out there. So I’d like to tease a bit of what else is coming down my auction pipeline.
I don’t write much about trans issues, because of a combination of being ignorant, and not having any personal stake in the issue.
Stop the presses!
Sometime last friday I encountered someone who was expressing a virus that my body did not have immunity to.
The media is always at its best when it’s examining itself in the mirror for flaws.
I’m going to be at Dragonfly Forge for all of next week, along with Mike P.; we’re taking Michael Bell’s longsword-forging class on making katana blades. [df]