Everloving wife and I used to call the corner grocery, Duc Loi (r i p), "the dl”, now a few years into having moved and Casa Guadalupe being our default, I’ve finally managed to stop saying “the dl” by saying “the gl.”

Recology sanitation engineers have an off-the-books, for-charity, annual, competitions (regional and national), and one of the events is a timed wheel-can storage race (faster is better) judged by how interlocked the lids can be.

when any one lid can’t be opened on account of the engineer’s clever interleaving of a neighboring can’s lid’s lip, they call it “captured lid locking” (the technical term) and, they are scored on how many lids they can lock.

as in all sport, doping is a problem.

Wtb a home assistant automation that will play theater bell chimes over every (sonos) speaker in the house five minutes before dinner is ready, again one minute before plating, and again as the ushers (me) close and lock the (imaginary) doors to the the dining room as I sit to dine with whoever has joined me for dinner.

Entering my Townes Van Zandt era even though lyrics normally pass over my smooth brain like the colored smoke over an efficient wing in wind tunnel tests reminds me of getting into Elvis Costello years ago and telling a hipper friend of mine “wow, did you know his first few albums are like, incredible?” and getting in response a very deadpan “yes, that is generally the consensus.”

late-mid-century texas and bakersfield sounds are my jam lately, catching me by surprise.

[incredulously] Who did this!?