There’s a little glacier next to my house. The exhaust from the pellet stove is just enough to melt the icicles above it, and they drip and freeze immediately. It’s about two feet thick, and I know I’ll be looking at it at Easter.
Big things have small beginnings. Drip.
My Interfriend Glynn says he’s going to retire: On Being a Writer: Downsizing the Workload
I’d be willing to retire, but I think you have to have a job first.
My Interfriend Casey Klahn is out of control: The Whole Picture
A person I like and respect asked me how I approach writing. I said I simply worked myself into whatever mood I wanted and wrote it down. Casey seems to be in a bold mood.
Look what the winter was like for John of the River: Snow and Rain Tomorrow, Clear the Roof
I live near Mount Washington, and I’m impressed.
My Interfriend Gagdad Bob understands the mystical nature of Kipling Ronald Dynamite: I Dream of Gagdad, Gagdad Dreams of Madonna
I like Madonna. She’s managed to stay completely out of my line of sight and hearing for her entire career, which I can only ascribe to good manners on her part.
Leonard Nimoy appears to have died. Mr. Spock never will, I imagine.
Star Trek, like Star Wars, was cheesy. People get very angry if you tell them that. Few people will admit that a thing they like a lot is trivial. Mr. Spock is one of their gods.
Things are getting a little weird with ski lift tickets: Ski Resorts Experiment With Dynamic Pricing
The only economist worth knowing about is Cournot, and you don’t.
Time for some holy cow: The Rockies