You know the drill. They must be documented. Here’s the best one for the season:
I’m still happy we’re getting snow.
–Simon
Tales from Easement Acres
You know the drill. They must be documented. Here’s the best one for the season:
I’m still happy we’re getting snow.
–Simon
Humor is how we deal with the horrific.
We went to see the traveling Pompeii exhibit which made its way to the Cincinnati Union Terminal museum. I had seen many of the statues before in magazines and documentaries, but it was certainly more powerful to experience firsthand. Some of the victims had definitely died under varying degrees of agony. Baked and suffocated. Doesn’t sound pleasant. I didn’t find it appropriate to take photos.
But I did still take one of the dog.
And then I thought: this looks an awful lot like a whippet. And whippets are perpetually cold. My own whippet in fact recently cooked herself in front of the fireplace until patches of fur fell out. That’s some desperation.
So if there’s one shred of happiness from this tragic event, it’s that a whippet finally managed to get warm enough. It’s how Poppy would have chosen to go.
–Simon
I need to track more projects here and philosophize less! And as promised, here’s a project.
My tweeny daughter has aggression issues. And when I was her age I dealt with it by punching brick walls and cutting myself. Fortunately she asked for help in the form of a healthier outlet – a punching bag. I wish I had been able to talk to my own parents about mental problems.
So that’s what I got her. And I went official, UFC brand! Aww yeah. And no sissy 70# bag. No, this is the full 100! Which does limit hanging options, but I figured the I-beam in the basement that holds up the house should be strong enough.
And it also gave me a chance to use my bolt cutter – a tool I had purchased after a prior project involving chain segments. Previously, when I needed chain, I went to the hardware store and had an associate cut me off what I needed, which was an oddly awkward process to watch as they worked that pneumatic crank – equipment somewhat overkill for the rated chain I had selected. Now I can just have them cut one length, or better yet – buy a box pre-measured, and I cut to length on site. No lengthy store interactions, and no guesswork.
It’s also pretty manly to clamp through chain. Something about the raw power and strength of linked metal.
And so, some clamping and carabiners later, we had two sections of 250#-rated chain holding up a sand-filled stress-reliever.
It does shake the house a little bit, but I don’t think we’re in any danger of structural failure. A small price.
–Simon
I’m a little late this year, but I forgot I had this annual post. This is what I was up to in January last year, post-holiday.
And that’s it, since I already posted my holiday photos.
Now we’re back in suicide month, so I’ll have some legit projects to write about next. Standby.
–Simon
As I approach 40, I’m very much aware of my physical decline. But what I didn’t expect was the Internet’s warnings that my overall happiness will apparently be taking a dive soon too. Self-reported subjective measurements make for a lousy scientific statement, so it’s more one of those correlation-only type observations. As to the actual reasoning, that’s up for debate. Common theories include:
The full graph indicates happiness begins to decline at 18, bottoms out in the 40s, and steadily increases starting at 50. Something like this (this was drawn freehand, so disregard the scaling issues):
So I decided to compare this timeline with my own life, and see if this is an applicable expectation, using life events as reference:
If I try to graph the above, I end up with something like this:
And if I superimpose the two:
It would appear that I’m at the complete opposite level of happiness than where I should be.
Hopefully this means I’m early to the old age happiness party, rather than late to the middle age unhappiness one. Or maybe my life has been atypical in general. Who knows? But what I do know is that right now I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
–Simon