Some time during college I think, I became a list maker. Not a "formal" list maker who keeps neat, organized, long-term lists sorted by topic and category. Nothing neatly structured like a palm-pilot full of hierarchical data. Not a grand list of life goals, not simply a mundane list of groceries, not just to-dos. My lists are always a mixture of every possible category, topic, or item—chores, book titles, financial plans, movie titles, people to telephone, thank-yous, upcoming events, exhibits not to miss, bike repairs, home repairs, all manner of other repairs, long-term plans, groceries, future big-ticket purchases, URLs, addresses, telephone numbers, computer system information, interesting curiosities to research later (like sunspots or ladybug houses or biodiesel), articles to read, restaurants, bills to pay—and are found in any number of forms, including but not limited to:
The phrase "look at lists" has been written on more than one of my lists. Also, "find other list."
Starting around every January, the word "taxes" appears on countless lists.
List items are not usually laid out neatly line by line, but are more often written in a variety of sizes and styles and colors and at varying angles. Some items are circled, some encased in boxes, some underlined. Finished items are usually crossed out completely.
I think lists allow for procrastination; tasks are often easier listed than done.
I have boxes of dead lists I haven't bothered to check over for completeness and thus have been unable to throw away. Yet when I do determine a list can be discarded it is a huge relief to rid myself of it.
I rarely see my friend George, who is a chef, make a list. Lists of his that I have found in my house are simply for produce or ingredients he must order for the next day's work. His lists are disposable almost as soon as they are written.
George always remembers things; I think he trusts his brain more than I do. Though he is writing a restaurant guidebook at the moment, I do not believe he is keeping many notes on the 100+ places he has visited. I always want him to write stuff down; it makes me itchy, even though he's never forgotten anything important that I know of.
Maybe I slipped one too many times and became afraid to trust my brain anymore; I can't remember anything because my brain is out of practice. Or maybe I can remember things but simply think I can't.
I suppose I could make a resolution to go for a fixed period without using any lists to try and retrain my brain to remember things better. Seems like an interesting idea; I'll make a note of it.
It has been raining all day. I was wetter this morning after my thirty-minute bike ride to work than I was yesterday after four hours of kayaking (thanks, Johnny Smersh). I don't think I stand much chance of waiting it out before I start my ride home either.
Update: Today's 5.02 inches of rain broke the all-time daily rainfall record of 3.41 inches set on November 20, 1959.
My brother and his wife are to have a baby. Handy schematic explanatory graphic courtesy of the father. Apparently it is either a boy or a girl.
Update: For the record, my money is on girl.
Positively surreal Porcelain Berry vine, for which you may recall I built a trellis in spring.
In case the River History web interface (still evolving) I mentioned earlier is confusing, here is a graphic to help you. Suggestions for improvement welcome.
A server full of GIS data (maps) from my work at the University of Washington is finally up. The River History Project is undertaking an investigation of historical changes to aquatic habitats and land cover throughout Puget Sound's rivers and estuaries, and recently expanded to include Puget Sound's historical nearshore.
You'll need a fast connection, as the maps are large image files. Maps are in .TIF file format (GeoTIFF, really), compressed as .ZIP files. If you do not have it already, you will need some sort of software to open the compressed files. The .TIF files can be readily viewed individually with any image-handling software, and this may be all you want to do. However, for layered viewing of multiple maps in their geographic coordinate systems you will need some sort of GIS software. ESRI's ArcExplorer is free. For the somewhat more intrepid there is also the open-source GRASS. With such GIS software, you can put a map from 1890, for example, over aerial photos from 1933, and make the top map layer transparent so as to see changes from one era to another.
More maps to be posted periodically.
OK, The Internet, listen up:
A comma splice means that you have "spliced" two independent clauses together with a comma, creating a sentence that is not a sentence. This is simply something you may not do. For example, were you to find yourself writing on the topic of, say, cocktails, you might opine:
What you want there in lieu of your second comma is probably a semicolon, which has full authority to join those two perfectly fine independent clauses into a single sentence. Alternately, you could add a conjunction ("...rich dessert, and it's impolite..."). You might even simply separate your independent clauses into two perfectly fine independent sentences. It's your choice, really. But a comma splice just will not do, ever.
That is all.