Thankful Thursday
The muse is still with me -- 565 words on the PBJ project this morning. Call me a Beach Boy (or girl), because I'm having fun, fun, fun!
There are always new skills to learn. This afternoon I was introduced to Clearspace, which is a community workspace program with some elements that are like Facebook and some that are like Livejournal and some that are like Googledocs. I took the workshop because I was tired of blowing by emails during last semester, because I didn't know what I was supposed to do to get to the Clearspace document they pointed me toward. Now I am enlightened. I'm not sure how extensively I'll use it, but I do know it will have its uses.
Tomatoes from my CSA, as well as some English peas that survived last weekend's hailstorm only a little the worse for wear. The shells look like they've been hit with buckshot, which I suppose they were, but the tender, sweet seeds inside are as good as ever.
I may be a Beach Boy (or girl), but I am not J. Alfred P., because I will now dare to eat a peach. The ones I found yesterday are not local, because only southern Vermont can grow any variety of peaches, but they're Amish and--most importantly-- they're delicious.
There are always new skills to learn. This afternoon I was introduced to Clearspace, which is a community workspace program with some elements that are like Facebook and some that are like Livejournal and some that are like Googledocs. I took the workshop because I was tired of blowing by emails during last semester, because I didn't know what I was supposed to do to get to the Clearspace document they pointed me toward. Now I am enlightened. I'm not sure how extensively I'll use it, but I do know it will have its uses.
Tomatoes from my CSA, as well as some English peas that survived last weekend's hailstorm only a little the worse for wear. The shells look like they've been hit with buckshot, which I suppose they were, but the tender, sweet seeds inside are as good as ever.
I may be a Beach Boy (or girl), but I am not J. Alfred P., because I will now dare to eat a peach. The ones I found yesterday are not local, because only southern Vermont can grow any variety of peaches, but they're Amish and--most importantly-- they're delicious.