(no subject)

The oddest things come out of our mouths sometimes.

I don't mean unintended revelations--that's a topic for another day, or another century, in private and later at night.

I was in the cheese shop, waiting to buy my sandwich (brie, watercress, sun-dried tomatoes on an onion baguette) and chocolate. As the cashier rang it up, I looked over some little rectangular things in a basket, tried to read the label, gave up, and said, without thinking, "I'm sorry, my Greek is very bad, what are these?"

Saying "My Greek is very bad" implies that I speak a bit of the language. What I can do, actually, is read the Greek alphabet, and recognize an occasional word that hasn't changed in 25 centuries: "Parthenon" on another package was my first clue that what I was looking at was extra-virgin olive oil. But "my Greek is very bad" is a statement on par with "Passenger service from Earth to Mars is irregular." It implies greater knowledge than exists--and, at worst, could leave me dealing with someone who thinks even a minimal knowledge of Greek will help them get on the next Mars flight.

(no subject)

The oddest things come out of our mouths sometimes.

I don't mean unintended revelations--that's a topic for another day, or another century, in private and later at night.

I was in the cheese shop, waiting to buy my sandwich (brie, watercress, sun-dried tomatoes on an onion baguette) and chocolate. As the cashier rang it up, I looked over some little rectangular things in a basket, tried to read the label, gave up, and said, without thinking, "I'm sorry, my Greek is very bad, what are these?"

Saying "My Greek is very bad" implies that I speak a bit of the language. What I can do, actually, is read the Greek alphabet, and recognize an occasional word that hasn't changed in 25 centuries: "Parthenon" on another package was my first clue that what I was looking at was extra-virgin olive oil. But "my Greek is very bad" is a statement on par with "Passenger service from Earth to Mars is irregular." It implies greater knowledge than exists--and, at worst, could leave me dealing with someone who thinks even a minimal knowledge of Greek will help them get on the next Mars flight.

(no subject)

One of those moods.

A cow-orker forwarded email suggesting we protest
I'm-not-sure-what with a voluntary "blackout" for
three hours on the summer solstice. So I wrote back, asking if she plans to unplug her refrigerator. She hadn't even thought about it. I'll bet few of the folks who are forwarding this, who are going to turn the lights and computers off for three hours, plan to unplug all their electric clocks, either.

Blackouts don't let you keep the most important appliance on. Turning the lights out is easy, especially on the longest day of the year. So is turning your home PC off for three hours. It's clocks and refrigerators and elevators and traffic lights that cause trouble when they go off unexpectedly, not stereos or televisions.

There's more going on, but this is the rant I feel comfortable putting here now. If you care, and dare, ask me privately. And if I can, I might tell you. No promises. Maybe, by the time you ask, I won't want to eat worms, and won't remember why I wrote this.

Maybe.

(no subject)

One of those moods.

A cow-orker forwarded email suggesting we protest
I'm-not-sure-what with a voluntary "blackout" for
three hours on the summer solstice. So I wrote back, asking if she plans to unplug her refrigerator. She hadn't even thought about it. I'll bet few of the folks who are forwarding this, who are going to turn the lights and computers off for three hours, plan to unplug all their electric clocks, either.

Blackouts don't let you keep the most important appliance on. Turning the lights out is easy, especially on the longest day of the year. So is turning your home PC off for three hours. It's clocks and refrigerators and elevators and traffic lights that cause trouble when they go off unexpectedly, not stereos or televisions.

There's more going on, but this is the rant I feel comfortable putting here now. If you care, and dare, ask me privately. And if I can, I might tell you. No promises. Maybe, by the time you ask, I won't want to eat worms, and won't remember why I wrote this.

Maybe.