House-painting should resume today; I say "should" because house-painters, even my own nephew, are a famously independent breed and will reject a day that amateurs like you and I might not. In the case of my nephew, the results of his efforts are, thus far, of such greater quality than anything I might have managed that I am entirely disinclined to second-guess his schedule. I've got all Summer; if Roseholme Cottage looks a bit piebald or calico while the work is being done, the neighbors will just have to adjust.
In conversation with Tam the other day, it came up that, as far as she know, she's never read a single Eric Frank Russell story! I didn't think one could be both a science-fiction reader and libertarianly inclined and not have read Russell, which probably says more about the narrowness of my own horizons than anything else. I suggested the short story, "...And Then There Were None." We'll see if she has time.
Left my bold pen at the North Campus yesterday and in this heat I'm not going to go chasing after it; my fancy (though affordable) Noodler's Ebonite Pen will be pinch-hitting in its place. Though it has a plain stainless-steel nib, it's one of the smoothest pens I have used, with a "feel" more like the best of my older pens. Gee, who would'a thunk suppose the proper tip shape and degree of polishing is at least as important as the material the nib is made of or plated with? ($24 American, Mr. Montblanc -- however, Noodler's doesn't offer a signature fragrance [except maybe a dabba Waterproof Black behind each ear?] or designer eyeglasses either. They just do ink and pens). (Nope, still not bein' paid t'shill. It's just a good pen).
He Worked On A Starship
2 months ago