Flotsam

Watched a hunt­ing pere­grine fal­con from my of­fice win­dow and an­oth­er rap­tor, much larg­er, stopped in for an in­spec­tion. Didn’t look much like a bald ea­gle, but could have been a ju­ve­nile; they don’t have the mark­ings yet. I don’t know of any oth­er siz­able birds of prey in this area.

Lost my foun­tain pen. For re­al this time. About 8 years ago, a moth­er­ly Christmas gift. It had some se­ri­ous sen­ti­men­tal val­ue. I could buy the same mod­el & col­or from Staples, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Great MetaFilter post on Wendell Berry. I’d read Feminism, the Body, and the Machine be­fore, but he’s got a siz­able body of work and some se­ri­ous wis­dom on com­mu­ni­ty, en­vi­ron­men­tal, ed­u­ca­tion­al and just about any oth­er sort of at­ti­tude ad­just­ment you might think the world needs. He’s a po­et too.

I’m sched­uled to be in­ter­viewed by a Boston University jour­nal­ism grad­u­ate stu­dent this Saturday about Tremonter and my ap­par­ent sta­tus as a cit­i­zen jour­nal­ist. Tremonter woke up from its reg­u­lar win­ter nap this week. Nice to see.

I re­newed my STOP SMILING sub­scrip­tion us­ing the BOGO Superfan of­fer they cur­rent­ly have go­ing. Sent my cous­in Heather the oth­er half. Heard from them to­day, they up­grad­ed my cur­rent ‘script to su­per­fan sta­tus just be­cause they rule.

I want my yard, though it be­came too cold again for much work out there. I think all of the grass in my front is ka­put, rue and lamen­ta­tion.

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