Electric Josh

Oh my goodness, they're using a song from Mothership Connection to sell cars. Everything is suddenly okay with the universe again.
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There astonishingly many jellyfish in the shipping channel today, most of them between probably 8 and 12 inches across, most with scary-looking, colorful organs in the center but otherwise clear. Several per cubic meter, at least, all along at least a quarter mile of the side of the pier; everywhere I could see. Had I had my camera you'd all be super impressed.
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So now that Lib has a real summer job she's too good to update her site. Hmmph.
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The Kendall Band is probably my favorite public art installation ever. I actually used to play with it several times a week, back when I worked in Kendall Square and rode the T. The article understates quite how completely the exceptionally loud trains almost violently overwhelm the calm, super-echoey gonging. Also, the article fails to mention how amazingly incompetent some folks are at getting the piece to make any noise at all: hammers hang between the gongs, and in order to get the hammers to make any contact a light touch is required on the handle. It must be rocked gently back and forth, like pushing a swing, so that the hammers eventually swing wide enough to strike the "bells". I often used to wonder if folks found it embarrassing to fail to make noise in front of so many smart people, what with MIT and all those fancy biotech and computer startups around. At any rate, I had no idea it was installed by Henri Matisse's grandson. Neat.
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The nine-month-old, we have accidentally discovered, loves peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, known the world over as fluffernutters. (When I was in college there was this one girl I knew who, at this one party, got really excited for me to show her what a fluffernutter was. I'm not sure quite what she was expecting, but I'm sure it's completely unprintable in this space. Upon finding out the mundane truth, she was terribly, awkwardly disappointed.) The boy also likes dill pickles. I don't know any good stories about dill pickles.

What a good boy.
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Last summer we taught the older kid what a contrail is, and she still (I think, sometimes) finds great delight in identifying them in the sky and pointing them out. If she could read, I'd point her here.
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Jumping into quarries is somewhat less safe than jumping from bridges into rivers, which central Vermont was much better geared for. Bridgejumping was always a great deal of fun, and it was so safe that, really, what could possibly have gone wrong?
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