Bullet points for a Monday Evening.

I haven’t done one of these in a while, but I can kind of hear the psychic promptings of Chris Hubbs, so here goes.

  • Laura isn’t feeling well at the moment (she was up with Audrey for a good five hours in the middle of the night), so I’m taking care of Audrey and the dogs. Audrey is eating banana bread and drinking from her bottle, while the dogs are chasing each other around the house and trying to steal Audrey’s banana bread.
  • My favourite kind of yoghurt has to be Balkan style. Swiss is too thin, Greek is too thick, Balkan is just right. I also wish there were some way to gauge the amount of live bacteria in a yoghurt sample, short of putting it under a microscope.
  • I’m currently waiting for a steak to come up to room temperature. I know, two steaks in two days. This is what comes of shopping at Costco.
  • Our coffee pot seems bound and determined to burn the coffee no matter what we do. I’m not sure if the problem is in the water heater or in the element, but either way, the coffee is coming out tasting like Starbucks.
  • I present for your consideration this fine home-made meme:

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  • ISO implementation is going apace. Document control is something I’ve wanted for a long time but never had the time or clout to actually make happen. We’re also gaining an org chart, work descriptions, and proper tooling specifications. If you’re surprised that we haven’t had any of those things until now… well, so am I.
  • The novel is at 22,000 words. That’s the third novel I’ve gotten that far on, by the way. And, predictably, I’m at the part of the story where I start not to care about finishing it. I’ve decided on a novel (heh) way of getting around this: I’m folding the apathy into the novel itself. I feel apathy? My character feels apathy. I feel like I’m in the middle of a long slog that might never end and even when it does it might lead nowhere at all? Well, that’s a useful feeling. I’ll fold these thing into the book and we’ll see how it shakes out. Also, because I know some people are asking, no, the book and the stories within are not autobiographical. Some of the feelings are based on reality, but nothing more.
  • I have now lived in Mississauga for 10 years. Before that I lived in Bolton, Brampton, Orangeville, Vaughn, Rexdale, and Toronto proper. I have lived in a lot of places but also I haven’t lived in a lot of placed.
  • I learned a trick from Charles Dickens: Take whatever you want to say, break it up into two opposite but equal sentiments, raise them both to their superlatives, and present both as co-equal facts. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Everything happened, but nothing happened. Take it to the next level by then denying your own premise. I was moving ever forward, ever backward, or perhaps I was not moving at all. Throw in a little doubt. Suddenly it means everything, though it means nothing. Or perhaps this thing we call meaning itself is flawed.
  • I keep thinking about how small is beautiful. I don’t mean just in size, but in organizational complexity. Units of decision making need to be small. Layers of management need to be small. The small survives even when the large fall. This is true for book stores, for families, for churches, for governments, for works of art, and even for airplanes.