Thirds
Blog Yeah, kitt finished writing this at 14:49 on 16 June 2019"How do you split a rectangle into thirds?"
"Well, you could cut from the center of the rectangle to the middle of one of the long sides, then from the center out at an angle that isn't really 120˚ from the previous cut..."
"What would that angle be?"
"Um... You could cut it in half and redefine equal."
"..."
"Or, cut it into quarters, we each take a piece, and wrestle for the last one."
"Let's go with that."
About that Hamstring
Blog Yeah, kitt finished writing this at 16:40 on 15 June 2019One of the items on my 2019 Goals Bingo card is "Play in an Ultimate tournament." I haven't played ultimate in a year. When I did play (on a broken toe), I managed to jam my right big toe so badly that I believe I tore a ligament, maybe two. Before that, I hadn't played in four or so years, and now I can't run more than 100m before I have problems with my hamstring.
My hamstring.
The f'ing hamstring I pulled twelve fucking years ago, STILL f'ing giving me problems.
Of course, my thoughts now when I pull something, break something, tear something, injure yet another something involve trying to determine if this is a temporary injury, or, "Welp, that one's going to be with me for the rest of my life." Falling down the stairs and pulling a shoulder ligament? Yeah, that one's with me until I die. The little toe break from last year? Who the fuck breaks a little toe? Yeah, this girl.
Anyway, I want play in an ultimate tournament this year, even if it is some pickup team at some small didn't-make-regionals tournament, I don't care. I want to play.
And that hamstring is stopping me.
Except I am no longer convinced the problem is my hamstring. I was telling myself the story about how my hamstring weakened and in the weakening lost the supporting muscle that kept everything in line and the injury quelled.
But what if I'm wrong?
What if the problems I have, the intense pain ALL THE TIME in my hamstring, the inability to sit still (well, have always had that one), the sudden weakness in the hamstring when I'm running, the inability to sprint, what if it isn't my hamstring, but something else?
Say, something along the lines of the commonly know (dun dun DUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNN) ... sciatica?
Fits the symptoms. Could be I'm "normal" (for some definition of "normal"). Could be....
And so, today I begin my journey back to the ultimate field, fuck this fucking injury. I looked up the stretches, managed all six, noticed that, uh, hey, I have lost a lot of flexibility, better not rush that process. I added these stretches to my daily routine, just after the 108 soon to be 126 daily pushups. And I figured out, I can read or put on my current earworm on repeat, and be productive while on the road back to breaking myself in old and interesting ways.
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
Book Notes Yeah, kitt finished writing this at 20:52 on 14 June 2019
To my recollection, I have not read an Agatha Christie mystery before this one. Given she was a prolific writer, knowing which of her books to read, which are better than the rest, is a worthwhile endeavor. Fortunately, others have read all of Christie's books, and I can use their wisdom to curate my reading list.
This book tops many of Christie's must-read books lists. It is the highest rated Poirot books, and the highest rated Christie mystery book, so, rather than skipping to the end, I started at the top.
And read this one.
I had the advantage of not having read this book before and not having seen the movie. I loved the ending. Well, not the ending ending, but the big reveal. Wow, just wow. I suspect if I had read the other Poirot books, I would have recognized him when he was introduced. I didn't, so even that small reveal was fun for me.
Basic plot: small(-ish) town doctor receives a call in the middle of the night that a friend / patient / big name in town is dead, and rushes to find, yes, indeed, he is not only dead, but also obviously murdered. He then works with the local police and, when invited, Poirot to discover who the murderer. It could be any number of persons in the dead man's household, based on given testimonies, and wow, everyone has something to hide. Society and shame has a way of doing that to us.
The glimpses into a past society was fun, too.
While normally I'd say, "I strongly recommend one read an Agatha Christie mystery," regardless of which one, I agree with all those who have read many if not all of her books, this one is great. Strongly recommended.
“Do not disquiet yourself. It is not with me a habit. But you can figure to yourself, monsieur, that a man may work towards a certain object, may labour and toil to attain a certain kind of leisure and occupation, and then find that, after all, he yearns for the old busy days, and the old occupations that he thought himself so glad to leave?”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “I fancy that that is a common enough occurrence. I myself am perhaps an instance. A year ago I came into a legacy—enough to enable me to realize a dream. I have always wanted to travel, to see the world. Well, that was a year ago, as I said, and—I am still here.”
My little neighbour nodded. “The chains of habit. We work to attain an object, and the object gained, we find that what we miss is the daily toil."
Page: 17
“And anyway,” continued Miss Flora, “all this making a fuss about things because someone wore or used them seems to me all nonsense. They’re not wearing or using them now. That pen that George Eliot wrote The Mill on the Floss with—that sort of thing—well, it’s only just a pen after all. If you’re really keen on George Eliot, why not get The Mill on the Floss in a cheap edition and read it.”
Page: 27
Youth is very buoyant. Even the brutal murder of his friend and employer could not dim Geoffrey Raymond’s spirits for long.
Perhaps that is as it should be. I do not know. I have lost the quality of resilience long since myself.
Page: 59
She knows the value of being direct on certain occasions. Any hints would certainly have been wasted on Caroline.
“You see,” she explained, following directness with tact,
Page: 62
“Everyone has something to hide,” I quoted, smiling.
“Exactly.”
“You still believe that?”
“More than ever, my friend."
Page: 85
“Curiosity is not my besetting sin,” I remarked coldly. “I can exist comfortably without knowing exactly what my neighbours are doing and thinking.”
Page: 142
I should not like Caroline to know. She is fond of me, and then, too, she is proud…My death will be a grief to her, but grief passes….
Page: 241
A Birthday Tale in Four Parts
Blog kitt decided around 19:23 on 14 June 2019 to publish this:One.
My birthday is coming up. This particular birthday is a difficult one, by far the most difficult I've had so far, for various reasons. I tell myself that it is only a day, like the day before, there is nothing special about the day in the cosmic sense...
And still, I struggle.
Two.
We have a rule in my family, and by "my family" I mean "all the incarnations of my family," that you don't buy anything for yourself in the month before your birthday, nor do you buy anything for yourself after Halloween. You can express desire for items, but the purchase is left to your loved ones to gift to you on the oh-so-auspicious holiday.
Three.
My favorite pen is the Papermate Write Bros. medium point (1mm) stick pen with blue ink. I have been using this pen for a quarter century now. It has been slowly disappearing from shelves, with Amazon being the only location I can find them these days.
I buy them in bulk. I use them up. I lament my diminishing supply.
Four.
"Your birthday present is in two parts."
I looked over at Jonathan with a smile on my face. His birthday present this year was also in two parts. They were also one of my more spectacular Homer gifts.
"Do you want them now, or actually on your birthday?"
Anticipation is part of the delight of gifts, birthday and Christmas. You don't known what the gift is, it could be anything. The hope, the excitement, the thoughts that this could be the gift, the moment, that COULD CHANGE MY LIFE.
"Um.... right now?"
The first part of the gift was A BOX OF THE PERFECT PENS.
I squee'd with delight. Pen desert postponed for another year or so, or until I lose all of these pens, too.
But the second part?
My squee with the second part dwarfed my first squee!
A Baron Fig Squire Rollerball pen!
Jonathan may have found the replacement for my perfect pen.
The pen is nicely weighted and has a similar feel as the iPhone SE, which is to say, a strokable surface that keeps my hands busy enough that I don't pick or pull or pop or twist other things that really shouldn't be picked or pulled or popped or twisted.
Imagine that, a pen and fidget device in one!
Way SQUEE-worthy!
Thank you, Jonathan!
The pen is mightier than the sword.