Friday Night at the Meetinghouse

During last night's evening at the meetinghouse we read through back issues of Friends Bulletin, as it was called then, looking for notices about our meeting's deaths and marriages, in order to improve some of our records. It was great ful to listen to oral histories and to laugh about changes in the concerns of Friends. Oh so earnest then, 1969, but oh so comic now! Except for the plea from Smokers in the Society of Friends for Toleration. Doctor DV was with us and was utterly indignant, and then when i read the part where the smokers pointed fingers at caffeine, sugar, and overeating, and suggested friends ought to get the Surgeon General to investigate those possible causes of mortality, she sputtered that later ones had.

The transition from The Collapse of Civilization to The Beginnings of a New Civilization to The Dawn of a New Society was fascinating, with calls to support people entering into communal living and other Alternative Lifestyles. Some of the queries on sex from Young Adult friends pretty much were along the lines of, "Do you mind your own business when it comes to sex between consenting adults?" but with a more admonishing tone. By the early 70s something had happened during a yearly meeting about homosexuality, but others needed to go then. It was after the usual departure time: we were captivated.

No games. DE brought beadwork, and i put my crochet aside to join the reading.

ETA: Oh, the most interesting part was about the Orange Grove Meeting and the sanctuary that the meeting turned into for several men who attempted to resign from the Navy. Both DV and GM (current clerk) had relationships with the meeting at the time, although DV's was just after and GM was at college. Between their memories and the notations in the Bulletin as the saga unfolded, i found myself entertained by the thought of what mood the Stickler for Quaker Detail Friends must have been in. Indeed, some of the Bulletin comments had almost a "It's not our fault" tone, as Friends noted that they had tried to explain to the Shore Patrol that meetinghouses were NOT sanctuaries, that Friends don't have sacred spaces, etc, but the Shore Patrol let the men stay.

More mid way down https://theland.wikispaces.com/David+Chapple

Puttering to Satisfaction

I am trying to listen to music more. For the past few weeks i've been playing music on my laptop when at home, allowing Last.FM to track what i played. The past few days i've felt that Last.fm would have "learned" enough about my listening to be interesting. The verdict? Last.fm is a *tease*! I've tried listening on my phone a few times and something happens that allows every fourth song to play, but it's often displayed it was about to play something and failed. I don't know if it's been the 3G network bandwidth or if Last.fm has had problems.

(Sudden realization that i can answer this question.) Ah, it's them: "As many of you will be aware, Last.fm has been experiencing an extended period of downtime in all user-facing services."

--==∞==--

I slept in this morning. Christine got up before i stirred, and i asked if she'd put the kettle on. "No, i've no idea what time it is." "7 am," i replied, and we snuggled a bit until i heard a very strange crashing sound. "I guess that's the sign it's time to feed the cats," i said.

After making the morning pot of tea, i used the Mac OS Automator application to create a folder that automatically sends any file dropped in the folder to Evernote. I managed to twist the script to my will: rather satisfying, even if unimpressive. Once upon a time i would have done it at the command line with a scripting language that would be more flexible, leading a little voice to nag me about the lack of polish. I acknowledge this was the right tool for the job (and my workflow), however, even if it's a little rough in a few spots.

I continue to be impressed with Evernote. It apparently upgraded for the Mac and Android only shortly before i tried it out again. I like Yojimbo, as well, another organizer tool. They're slightly different, and i find myself still tuning my use. They both are helping me flow a little more, letting me tag web pages, papers, emails, and other digital files as "@followup" if actually following up will interrupt my flow, like receiving a link to a talk from a colleague in work email.

I made it to the Sunnyvale Farmer's Market, firing off a photo of veggies in the sunlight to my mother in Beijing. They are off to Singapore on Wednesday: one temperature extreme to another, 18°F to 84°F. I managed to be reasonable in my purchases, instead of shopping like it's the last chance before a famine. (Note: we just received our case of Wild Pacific Seafood's troll line caught tuna. In case of earthquake, we will dine on the most fabulous tuna.) At home, i rinsed and cleaned the greens, particularly the beet greens. The rinse water went into the sequoia's pot: despite the rain, its foliage shades its pot, keeping it unwatered. I snipped up stems as a mulch around some other plants. I tried to be conscious of the pleasure of the moment, instead of letting the litany of to-do-next run ahead of me.

Back in the kitchen, i made the fruit compote of all the old sad fruit that was lingering around in the fridge. After thirty minutes on the "roast" setting (350° convection heat plus low power microwave), the fruit was still in distinct bits, the kiwi still green, oranges still orange. Sometime in the next twenty minutes the juices all burbled up and over, and the fruit stewed. With all the orange peel, citron, antique date bits, and pomegranate pips, i wanted stewed fruit.

The afternoon has been a bit drifting, watching a Dresden File and an Extreme Engineering and eating a great deal of the fruit compote. I'm cold, too, even though the thermometers indicate i've no excuse.

Still, this has been a day where i feel empowered to follow through. It's a good feeling.