"Shiver and say the words of every lie you've heard."
Sunny today, and a more summery sky. The sky has been that very cloudless, autumnal blue the last couple of days, what I have often called "the wide carnivorous sky." Though, that sky doesn't seem to be bothering me as much these days. Probably it's knowing the mountains are helping to hold it up. Our high was 82˚F.
A lot of work this morning on Winifred, some good progress on the jacket. That pterygoid is coming along nicely.
Toady on Twitter and Facebook I posted, Someone in her twenties recently said to me, in awe, and maybe in slight contempt, "You were born before men walked on the moon!" As if such people ought not still exist. It happened a few months back, actually, on Facebook, and the Gen Z girl who said it is sort of an annoying twit, but it stuck with me, regardless. And after watching the documentary yesterday on the Voyager probes, it bubbled to the surface. Because, never mind that I clearly recall watching that first Apollo 11 moonwalk (thanks, Mom), I'd been measuring my life out by the benchmarks of Voyager. The program began in 1971, when I was a first grader in Jacksonville, Florida. It launched in August 1977, when I was thirteen, living in Leeds, Alabama, about to start high school and just getting involved at the Red Mountain Museum. In January 1979, the two probes reached Jupiter; I was fourteen, a freshmen in high school. In June 1981, the probes had reached Saturn, and by then I was seventeen, We'd moved to Trussville. That was the summer of my first real paleo' field work, a month in Greene County, Alabama. In November 1985, Uranus, and by then I was twenty-one years old, in college at UAB, but planning to transfer to Boulder (UC) the next summer. And...it goes on like that. Finally, in November 2018, the second probe crosses the heliopause and enters interstellar space. Most of my life measured by one NASA mission.
And I got to thinking about things that might freak out Gen Z kids (or not, really, this girl is a nitwit). Payphones. A world without the internet. A world without cellphones and personal computers. Card catalogs in libraries filled with nothing but printed books (and, sure, microfiche). And so on. And that's just tech stuff. But to me, that world is normalcy, and this, this is some other thing.
I'm rambling, I know.
Anyway...today I watched Neil Shubin's Your Inner Fish. I read the book sometime back, but I had not seen the miniseries. Oh, and I finished Steve Brusette's The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs: A New History of a Lost World and began Andrew Chaikin's A Man on the Moon: The Voyages of the Apollo Astronauts.
And I wrote a little, but only a little.
Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. Thanks.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
8: 12 a.m.
A lot of work this morning on Winifred, some good progress on the jacket. That pterygoid is coming along nicely.
Toady on Twitter and Facebook I posted, Someone in her twenties recently said to me, in awe, and maybe in slight contempt, "You were born before men walked on the moon!" As if such people ought not still exist. It happened a few months back, actually, on Facebook, and the Gen Z girl who said it is sort of an annoying twit, but it stuck with me, regardless. And after watching the documentary yesterday on the Voyager probes, it bubbled to the surface. Because, never mind that I clearly recall watching that first Apollo 11 moonwalk (thanks, Mom), I'd been measuring my life out by the benchmarks of Voyager. The program began in 1971, when I was a first grader in Jacksonville, Florida. It launched in August 1977, when I was thirteen, living in Leeds, Alabama, about to start high school and just getting involved at the Red Mountain Museum. In January 1979, the two probes reached Jupiter; I was fourteen, a freshmen in high school. In June 1981, the probes had reached Saturn, and by then I was seventeen, We'd moved to Trussville. That was the summer of my first real paleo' field work, a month in Greene County, Alabama. In November 1985, Uranus, and by then I was twenty-one years old, in college at UAB, but planning to transfer to Boulder (UC) the next summer. And...it goes on like that. Finally, in November 2018, the second probe crosses the heliopause and enters interstellar space. Most of my life measured by one NASA mission.
And I got to thinking about things that might freak out Gen Z kids (or not, really, this girl is a nitwit). Payphones. A world without the internet. A world without cellphones and personal computers. Card catalogs in libraries filled with nothing but printed books (and, sure, microfiche). And so on. And that's just tech stuff. But to me, that world is normalcy, and this, this is some other thing.
I'm rambling, I know.
Anyway...today I watched Neil Shubin's Your Inner Fish. I read the book sometime back, but I had not seen the miniseries. Oh, and I finished Steve Brusette's The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs: A New History of a Lost World and began Andrew Chaikin's A Man on the Moon: The Voyages of the Apollo Astronauts.
And I wrote a little, but only a little.
Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. Thanks.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
8: 12 a.m.