Merry non-Christmas!

In the spirit of un-birthdays, merry non-Christmas to you!

Today's a pretty unexceptional day, so it's a great time to contemplate the infinite possibilities happening in parallel universes not our own.

Cartoon by Tom Gauld

This post's theme word is pernoctate (v intr), "to stay up all night", or "to pass the night somewhere." I passed the time with phantasms of present, past, and parallel realities, pernoctating while pondering possible payoffs.

Cookies

Cookies, cookies, and more cookies! Texas receives a special shout-out for being the most fun cookie cutter to use. The pi/2 fork rotation is also pretty fun. 

The fuzzy focus is a side effect of lens smudging, not postprocessing filters. (I'm traditional that way.)

Rolling crumbly cookies by hand is my least favorite, as it involves a lot of labor per cookie.


This post's theme word is girn (verb intr.), "to snarl, grimace, or complain" or (noun), "a grimace or snarl." The plethora of dessert options brought nary a smile to the family gathering.

Family quips

Gather sufficient clever and verbose people together, and the resulting tumult of verbiage will dazzle and astound. And, I hope, amuse. Here is a selection of quotes from a recent family gathering --- keep in mind, these were only in conversations I witnessed*, and these were only the things I remembered long enough to jot down. I've interspersed other notes, not quotes, of things that happened.

"I made it sweet for you! ... sweet with chili beans."

"Why is your foot so far away from your body?"
"... I don't know."

"Look, you have all these ingredients, you have to use them all..."

"They made that noise, you know, like when someone chews with their mouth open the week before you get your period and you just want to smack them like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

A rederivation, on the fly and from first principles, of cold-smithing techniques for certain metals.

"I'm telling you, Mom, I'm not going to adopt a child this fiscal year."

"No, no, it's a theoretical machine that I carry around in my brain."

Regarding sourdough starter:
"You feed the baby, but first you discard half the baby and make sure the other half hasn't died."
"I think nurturing a baby and yeast are a little different."

There was a point in the evening when all the some adults took out their smartphones and installed Snapchat, and then started trying to have snapchat interactions. Hilariously. (I think the youths did not appreciate the situational comedy.)

Pedantry about "=":
"Ernie's mastery of breads and baking! ... it's unequalled in the Western hemisphere. But you don't know how many decimal places we're using to measure."

"That just looks like something you took out of a dumpster."
"Initially, yes, but..."

"It was so nice to see you --- I was so impressed that at one time I fell asleep." (Said without sarcasm.)

Just before the (brief) break for this USian holiday, the students on my course message board asked, "What is a Fontes Thanksgiving like"? These same industrious and forum-using students also posted a poll whose results revealed that several of the students read this blog. This post goes out to you, then, my students: you are almost done with me (this semester), but for now you remain in my pedagogical clutches and I remain tethered to your minds, trying to squeeze in more knowledge in the scant remaining weeks.

*I'm a possible confounding factor here, I acknowledge that.


This post's theme word is fissiparous (adj), "tending to break into parts" or "reproducing by biological fission." The Fissiparous Fonteses are feared far and near.

Santa's path

For the convenience and delight of local children, Santa's appearances on the Champs Elysées are prescheduled and at a fixed location.

He gets a boost up to the sleigh (by ladder/elevator scaffollding), and then traverses the sky, pulled by reindeer (and rigging). For maybe 20 meters. Then he disembarks and descends, and probably meets his adoring fanbase. I didn't stick around for the crowds at the appointed time and place.

I did think about what kind of toy-workshop capers could be executed in the designated absence of the boss.


This post's theme word is agrement, "formal approval, especially one given by a country to the proposed diplomat from another country," or "grace notes: notes applied as an embellishment on a piece of music." Mr. S. Claus received his agrement and entry visa to France in early December.

Seasonal juxtaposition

In my clime-of-origin, November is already blustery and cold. Snow is possible. So no matter how many times I experience it, the transition to "winter holiday" decorations feels premature and rushed in this tropical locale. Just look:

Yes, that is a snowflake-shaped electric lamp, suspended above a tree still green and flush with leaves. Very silly.


This post's theme word is amaranthine, "unfading, everlasting," or "of a deep purple-red color," or of course "of or relating to the amaranth." That is no amaranthine tree; it is merely an overzealous neighborhood decorating committee.

Tree interrupts skyline

The Paris skyline is dramatic and distinctive. A certain density of unique monuments, and an enforced homogeny throughout the rest of the city, means that Paris has a certain "look". Fantastic lighting only enhances this.

The one-way streets fronted by white stone buildings contribute to this look, and of course for the Christmas season each neighborhood hangs lights and decorations. (I think this is to give some visual variety for the winter season, in lieu of snow which almost never happens.)

But then... the skyline is occasionally broken by what I can only describe as a visual non sequitur.

This post's theme word is vegete, "lively, active, vigorous." The vegete holiday decorations may have gone too far.

Merry piranhamoose

Merry Christmas, says the piranahmoose! Joy, absurdism, holiday lights, a delightful hat, and rows of sharp teeth that can rend flesh from bone in seconds! --- all in a holiday spirit.


This post's theme word is weasand, "esophagus." There's a weasel stuck in the weasand of that piranhamoose.

Merry Christmas (Eve)!

I hope your holiday season is free of unspeakable horrors... but just in case it isn't, here's my favorite holiday poem, as written/narrated/produced by Norm Sherman of the fantastic Drabblecast.


This post's theme word is batrachian, "relating to frogs." Bloated, batrachian, and covered in red! A close second was lambent, "glowing."