Or something like that. As seen on a recent trip to Winnipeg, one modest art card offered at least four faces/characters. Can four faces appear by accident in one piece of graphic art, just as a function of the underlying design or style choices? Whether by chance or intention, here they are, top to bottom . . .
And his face is even green!
Don’t skip this step.
I’m scanning a recipe for sourdough challah — not that I make sourdough or challah but where’s there’s life there’s hope and the word foolproof in the title drew me in, I admit it — and I stop dead in my figurative tracks. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this instruction in a recipe or, indeed, in any set of instructions.
Cover the dough with a damp towel
and rest for 15 mins to relax the gluten.
Don’t skip this step.
We’re going to jump over the question of who is supposed to rest for 15 minutes – the dough or me – because it amounts to the same thing. If the dough is resting, the dough is resting. If I’m resting, the dough is, perforce, resting. Moving on.
Some are already done. Some are going full bore. Some are just starting.
We fall into the latter category.
Last year at about this time I was taking mental-health breaks from daily and day-long attendance at the Heart Institute. Two blocks west of the hospital I discovered a slightly scruffy but entirely magnificent magnolia tree in its full-bore stage. That stage never lasts long, but it’s wonderful while it does.
Your password has been successfully changed.
I wonder in passing what an unsuccessfully changed password would look like, but I keep reading.
If you did not make this change . . .
Guys. How could a change I did not make be described as “successful” in any way? I keep reading.
If you did not make this change
or believe your account has been accessed
by an unauthorized person,
please contact . . .
We have a green plastic patio chair in the scant half of our barely double garage that stores various non-vehicular stuff:
And she calls right at 8:00!
I’m kinda eavesdropping as one member of a small-group Zoom call quietly advises a potential member of said group about . . . what, exactly? That I start the calls on time? What in the world are the options?
Calling even a few minutes ahead of the appointed hour would be rude: Folks might not be ready to take the call. Oh, no! That’s my call! Ack! Followed by a mad dash from the microwave where a cup of tea is re-heating to the desk with the laptop.
Calling anytime after the appointed hour would also be rude: Folks who’d been ready on time would be kept waiting and wondering. Do I have the wrong time? The wrong day? Have they decided they don’t like me?
The conclusion is obvious, innit? Call at the appointed hour. Start the 8:00 call at, well, 8:00.
Ah, those pesky clouds of winter: flat layers of darkness. What are they still doing in the sky above me in late April?
Offering me a face, maybe.
A face easier to see in real life than in a photo, as is often the case. Something to do with the contrast, maybe? Anyway, here’s the key:
I’m Rh negative, too.
We are three women chit-chatting over coffee after our synagogue choir sang for a United Church worship service (part of an effort to forge community links). How the conversation moved from “Aren’t the acoustics great?” to “I’m Rh negative, too” will have to remain a mystery. I was there and I have no idea how it happened. I mean, I know how the last step happened: One of the others mentioned their Rh-negative status and the other two of us chimed in. But how did we get to that first comment? I forget.
Worldwide, only 7% of the population is Rh negative, but in Western populations the percentage is higher. About 15% is usually given as the norm, with some groups as high as 25%. So, although it seemed weird to us to be in conversation with two other antigen-type outliers, our group of 30 people might have been expected to have 4 to 7 RH-negatives based on the underlying population.
My niece moved to Berlin, too.
I don’t know.
Is there anything you can do?
It’s a smart-alecky scene from an iconic movie franchise, and worth the minute.
It’s not a perfect match, but this scene crossed my mind when a friend sent a link to a cogent gut-punch of an article on helping the “co-survivor of a cardiac arrest”, as the author describes herself. The article starts this way:
“Let me know if you need anything.”
A moment of brutal honesty: I grew to despise that phrase over the course of Will’s cancers and after his sudden cardiac arrest.
2026 May 22: Here's the backyard this week:
