Random Thursday: Variables, Miracles, and a Hidden Squid

Random is as random does.

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In Case You Were Wondering:

(Yeah, Vonnie—you got me)

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Sarah’s Spirit Couch

Judge me all you want, but let’s call a spud a spud.

‘Cause “spud” is fun to say.

Spud, spud, spud, spud, spud, spud, squid, spud, spud, spud, spud, spud . . .

See?

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Mathematical Brain Owies

Yes, this is cool.

No, I can’t even.

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How to Bring Out That Vein in Your Beloved’s Forehead

Look, you can see their heart beating,
right above their beautiful, bulging eyes,
just for you . . .

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Now, THIS is Math I Can Get Behind

So to speak.

This had Janie on the floor laughing.

I’m expecting a call from her leadership camp any minute now.

In other news, I’ve stopped assembling Thursday posts with my headphones on . . .

(Dang it, Kev—quit undermining my parental authority)

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Ice, Ice Baby:

Marty Ray-–who reminds me of my BIL in more than one way—is a true magician.

Behold, for he hath performed the miracle of the age:

Right?

(Thanks, Roy!)

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Wondering about the hidden squid?

It’s in here somewhere.

Go back and look—I’ll wait.

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Random Thursday: In a Random Mood

Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s been sent by friends or has otherwise stumbled upon this week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as sitting down and creating actual content.

Look what I found in a folder on my desktop when I was trying to find my original draft of chapter seventeen!

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How to make Sewing Fun Again

Just take the arc reactor out of the cryhole, blue line it, attach it to the bobbinator, and pop out the dilithium crystal so you don’t abuse the quaffle with the uppydowny or snap the snitch when you let ‘er rip with the flounce attachment.

Wow . . . that sounds way more suggestive than I’d intended.

Then again, it is supposed to be more fun, so . . .

(one of you sent me this—who?)

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Save the Death Bats!

Because pollinators are so very important to our ecosystem, the U.S. now has a National Pollinator Health Strategy.

I am 100% behind this, especially if we can get some government power (such as it is) behind saving bees and bats.

However . . .

. . . it occurs to me that while this fuzzy yellow guy is clearly a major contributor to the process of pollination,
not to mention absolutely adorable,
as many bats are,
he is also caked with pollen,
which makes him one of the deadliest creatures in the world,
to those of us with sinus problems.

The Ciiiiiiircle of Liiiiiiife . . .

(Cha Cha shared this on Facebook for serious reasons, which I subverted for a cheap laugh—unless you clicked the image to look at the National Pollinator Health Strategy, which would make me a marketing genius . . . and also feel less guilty)

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Sanford and Son were . . .  British?

That’s . . . weird.

I wonder if Elizabeth knew?

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Hey, Mike!

The man always had to have the last word, didn’t he?

If the rest of you want to know why I think Mr. Blanc’s gravestone is relevant, check this out.

And then do yourself a solid and go through the rest of Mike Allegra’s archives—
some of his stories have moved me to tears.

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Which Horseman of the Apocalypse are You?

Me?  I’m Procrastination.  Sorry I’m late . . .

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 I’d Tap That

But I’d fall down. A lot.

Random Thursday: Recycled, Repurposed, and Reused Randomness

Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s been sent by friends or has otherwise stumbled upon this week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as sitting down and creating actual content.

In belated honor of Earth Day, which probably shouldn’t be a random thing.

I’d apologize for all the puns, but y’all know I’d be lying.

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Delftly Done

The Architectural Library of the Delft University of Technology in the Netherlands
suffered a terrible fire a while ago.

The university rebuilt the library and replaced all the books.

This is what they did with the old ones:

How cool is that?

(Thanks, Watson . . . or Dee . . . Or caitlin?)

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Not Eggsactly Recycling . . .

or  repurposing, either, since eggs are supposed to make chickens.

But it is a revolutionary method for getting MORE chicken out of one’s eggs.

(Thanks, Patricia!)

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Encyclopedic Art

Brian Dettmer is an artist
whose art is books
and whose books are art.

This one is made of a set of the New Books of Knowledge.

Go look at his other stuff.

Right now.

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Musical Vegetarianism

Jane saw this and told me she wants to learn how to make spinach whistles.

It’s the first time she’s volunteered to get “that weird green stuff” that close to her digestive system.

 I’ve shown this before, so it’s a recycled video about repurposing.

Because I’m just that lazy good.

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Bitten by the Chapell Bug(s)

Julie Alice Chappell makes beautiful insects out of recycled electronics.

This one was made from bits of old gaming console.

Ms. Chapell has an Etsy shop,
DewLeaf,
which I visited in hopes of finding the above
(or one of his siblings)
for Janie,
who was bitten by the Nintendo bug years ago.

Unfortunately, at the posting of this,
it looks like she’s sold out of all her stock.

I’m disappointed, but not surprised—
look at the stunning detail!

(Thanks, liligriff!)

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Prelude for Boomwhackers

Part Bach, part Bojutsu, part rainbow.

All good.

 

(My husband found this—you’re right, it’s randomly perfect.)

Don’t wait up

Way back in April, my friend Dee—who comments here sometimes and with whom I’ve bonded over librarianship, Leverage, husbands, muffins, and music—dropped me an e-mail:

Just FYI, I just found out the Piano Guys are going to be at the Civic Center in Des Moines in October.

Des Moines is within reasonable driving distance from our place—or reasonable for a chance to see this group live and meet Dee face-to-face, anyway—so I immediately replied that we totally needed to go.

And we are.

The tickets arrived in May and I’ve kept them safe ever since—so safe, I thought I’d lost them once or twice.*

But I’m looking at those two lovely pasteboard rectangles right now and soon my husband and I are going to hop in the car and escort them west, where we will trade them in for a night of good company and excellent music, and finally return home to grab a couple hours sleep until it’s time to wake the girls for school.

My husband arranged to have Sunny’s godmother pick them up after school and take them home, where they WILL be doing their homework and minding their grandmother, JANE—and you aren’t supposed to be on the computer, log off right now and finish your math or you’re toast—and tucking themselves in ON TIME, SUNNY—and I hope you’ve done your spelling module?

They’re both a bit befuddled that their parents are escaping running away going on an adventure in the middle(ish) of a school week—and frankly, so am I—but they’re stoked about being allowed to sleep  in my MIL’s guest room as a special treat, so it should work out all right.

Regardless, it won’t be my problem until tomorrow morning.

See you then.

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*Though not as safe as I kept the check I wrote to Dee the day after but didn’t actually mail until June.  Letters can be so unreasonable about mailing themselves, even when you go out of your way to find stamps to put on them.

Random Thursday: Random Name Dropping

 Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s been sent by friends or has otherwise stumbled upon this week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as sitting down and creating actual content.

When I was two or three, my family vacationed at the Trapp Family Lodge, where—according to other people’s memories—Maria Von Trapp held me on her lap and sang to me in German.

I’ll wait while you younger people look her up. . . . See?

I shall now bask in your envy for all that non-memory is worth.

Dang—that was quick.

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The Price of Fame

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Sir Patrick Stewart Moos — Can you?

Click the Teeter-Tottering Cows
to hear the finest assortment of
class-based cow accents ever recorded,
as expressed by a man who,
like Morgan Freeman,
can render the most ridiculous things
not only logical
but unbearably cool.

Warning: The management does not accept responsibility for ruined keyboards or stinging sinuses and suggests you put your drink several feet aside before listening.

(Thanks, indy. Damn recording never did embed . . . )

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My next book will be titled The Best Novel Ever Written.

It’s worth a shot.

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Speaking of Morgan Freeman . . .

I don’t know what he’d say,
but he’d say it exactly like Charlie Hopkins.

(thanks, Vonnie—I’ve been humming this all week)

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Define “World”

And then find this lady a bathroom and a GPS.

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Pretty Darn Close

Rob Cantor brought together a large group of talented people
to sing a song he wrote with Andrew Horowitz,
and then did a fake impression of them doing real impressions.

It’s Perfect:

A video about making this video is here.

(Thanks, liligrif!  I can’t believe they cut Chewbacca’s line, either)