Stolen from Metafilter. I don’t have a MeFi account, so I can’t even favorite things over there, much less comment. So I figured I’d re-pose the question here.
The MeFi thread is great, but bring tissues. I loved this one most:
My uncle, Albert Crary, was an extraordinary man. Not only was he an explorer and scientist of both poles (The Crary Mountains in Antarctica were named by him and the A.P. Crary Science and Engineering Center at McMurdo Station was named fo him) but he gathered stories like no one I’ve ever met. At his public memorial in Washington DC at, I believe, the Cosmos Club, speaker after speaker got up and told about his staunchness, his incredible endurance, but most importantly, they all told a funny story about him: The time he fell off the ice shelf and what he said to the preacher after his rescue when the preacher came looking for a good sermon. The time he went shopping for supplies in South America when they were running a geophysical line across a South American swamp. The time my father put my brother up to calling him and acting like a dumb reporter asking the stupidest questions imaginable about the ice island T3.
Months later, we had a private memorial in his hometown of Canton, New York. One-by-one his nieces, nephews, in-laws and friends got up and told more stories. To all of us he’d been the source of fun, support and laughter when we were growing up – he never let any of us take ourselves too seriously, but he was always there when anyone needed help. When my turn came, I got up, told my story and then said this:
Everyone deserves an Uncle Albert, we were just fortunate enough to have had one.
posted by BillW at 5:23 PM on March 30
(Via the wonderful Ed Yong.)
Chiditarod is sort of like if you had Halloween in March for grown ups who love fast-moving parades and races and all the joy it takes you to not feel cold with the swirls of snow at your feet. It has become an art form of who can create the most elaborate or inventive float just as much as who can finish first with checkpoints all over local businesses in the Chicago neighborhood of Ukrainian Village. Sometimes, it feels like Chicago has lost so many great musicians, artists, writers to cities like NYC but whenever Chiditarod comes around, it reminds us Chicagoans why it’s great to be home. As the Chiditarod website points out, the date coincides with the Alaskan Iditarod dog sled race but I’ve always preferred shopping carts to sleds and costume lovers to dogs, anyway. And, as if you needed any more of a reason to support adults donning costumes and running through the wind and the cold, proceeds also greatly benefit The Greater Chicago Food Depository.
Favorite floats from this year’s race include “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” “The Beatles,” “DeadMau5,” “Ghostbusters,” “Mr. Potato Head,” “Super Mario Bros.,” “Lucky Charms,” “Unicorns,” “Draculas,” and “Happy Birthday!”
Full set of (large-sized) photographs from Chiditarod 2013 can be viewed on Flickr here.
To be clear, where I work should no longer be described as a “home”, but more a “Bunker of dark Elven magic.” Eleven years have allowed me to transform this garden apartment into the perfect symbiotic workspace, drawing from the best aspects of the Batcave (Burton-era), Tony Stark’s workshop, Cerebro, and the Batcave (Nolan-era).
Sign up early, if you want a spot; these pants fill up fast!
The Wayfinder Experience in Your Pants
Unlocking the Life Force in Your Pants
The Marks of Our Existence in Your Pants
Say “No” to Stress in Your Pants
Storming Heaven in Your Pants
Compose Yourself in Your Pants
Trees & Ecosystems in Your Pants
Frequencies of Healing in Your Pants
Enter Through the Image in Your Pants
Dreamgates in Your Pants
Leap of Perception in Your Pants
Timeless Loving in Your Pants
I don’t watch a lot of football, but it sure seemed as if a lot of players’ helmets were falling off during the Super Bowl. Isn’t there some kind of pro athletic head glue they should be using?
Beyonce did a pretty good job at half time, considering she had twins just three or four days ago. She did not wear a helmet, per se.
Sheila Ryan on January 18, 2013
We are the unsinkable Molly Brown of inefficient socially mediumistic webbed sites.
After I lost a lengthy Facebook post re: gun control, mental health services, blah blah woof woof, I retreated. Have a cuppa tea and regroup. As a friend advised, “A cup of tea fixes everything.”
The last of the collections is leather scraps. It smells the best. If you burrow into the bins, you don’t want to touch bottom—damp, mulch-like, maggoty. Stay close to the surface and you’ll be fine. Soak up the scent of soap, bay leaves, and fresh-cut softwood.
Someone rolled gray enamel over the windows. Who would paint a window? Nothing inside this warehouse has borne daylight in a decade or more. This isn’t completely correct; a million billion holes permeate the roof and walls. Matrices of light stand out against the dust that is suspended perpetually. That’s a lot of exposition, so let’s move on.
I’m still thankful for all you guys.