The physics of drifting snow
Despite having a lot of available time, I’ve made a decision. I’m not going to learn “latte art”. The realization that I prefer my coffee black has a lot to do with it, and also the metaphor about painting a cloud. The crema is ephemeral. However, I would like to up my “knock box” skills.
For those who don’t get a fourth season, you may not know the pleasure of watching snow drift on the roads. In three directions, simultaneously. There’s got to be some mad physics at work here. Now, having to drive around to watch the show is a downside, but as long as the black ice isn’t hidden underneath, I’m safe. Relatively.
Watched another episode about coastal Ireland: the place cries out “Photograph me!”. Today, we revisited some sort of seaweed bathing place, where the idle (rich?) go to get all slimy and wet and absorb iodine. Easier on the blood pressure than developing a dependence on table salt. I could probably go find some fucus serratus locally, or some laminaria. Even if people started referring to me as the seaweed guy. I wonder if cleaning the bath after the fact is much work?
The local supermarket had other pieces of corned beef, today. How does that work? I go for years, find one roast along the way, store it until the freezer warden demands I cook it or pitch it and then I see lots more on the display counter. Should I stock up, just in case? So many decisions with a minimum of guidance.
