I’ve been hot to try a Chemex since at least 2016; I remember talking about it with one of my colleagues at Camden County ESC back then. We were thinking about splitting the cost of one. I’ve been brewing using an Aeropress at the office for over a year, and have been very happy with it. But I’ve always pined for the bespoke design of a Chemex, and I really love pour over. Made a couple of cups for us this morning and all’s well.
Yesterday was my last day at Vineland Public Schools; on Monday, I move (back) to Monroe Township Public Schools, where I started my career, such as it is, in public education. I am sad to leave the district of my hometown, but excited about my new position. The work is the work, but the people at VPS are like family.
Did not expect this in a weekday morning pre-work piece:
Beat my last PR by about 30 meters. Must be all the tacos from yesterday.
I lured a very talented teacher to Vineland in order to replace a vacancy a couple of years ago. When she was attending new teacher orientation, she texted me for a lunch recommendation. I asked her if she liked tacos, and she replied, “Tacos are life.”
I pointed her to La Tejana, which was a hole in the wall on Landis Avenue, but has since moved to a nicer location just across the street.
The tacos are better than ever. I’m definitely gonna miss some people when I leave.
I make this salmon all the time. I initially put it in the sous vide tank at 118 or 119, but after reading Kenji’s article on the matter, I reduced the temp to 115. It doesn’t make much of a difference, but it’s still plenty good. We often purchase the salmon when it’s on sale and I cut it up into portions and freeze the fish is a vacuum saver bag until the day we’re eating it. I just drop the bagged frozen fillets into the tank for an hour and sear on the Blackstone after an hour. I make a quick teriyaki sauce to dress things up.
On Monday, I start a new job. I’ve been working in Vineland for more than half of the last decade; this is my eighth school year in the district. I worked there through the COVID pandemic, trying to figure out how to help teachers deal with virtual instruction.
This week is full of things to do, but it feels different. And not in a bad way. But not in a good way, either.
Every big job switch for me was preceded by my exiting weeks feeling hopeful, excited, and yes, some trepidation. The weeks passed by quickly, as they always do, feeling immediate and momentous in the moments surrounding my resignation, and then a patient wait for the 60-day countdown before my last day.
And there’s always that “what the fuck have I done?” when I get to the new job, and find myself in unfamiliar territory, the world seeming indifferent to my problems.
There’s always the worry that I’ll hit the ceiling of the Peter Principal, too. That is, that you got yourself promoted to the “level of respective incompetence.” There’s the advice a high school principal once gave me, too: “The higher you climb, the more of your ass they can see.” I love that one.
There are always some high-calorie events that accompany departures, too: at my last gig, I was treated to a Mexican lunch and a hibachi dinner. With a nice bottle of scotch, to boot. This week we had administrative professionals day lunch, and I got into some tacos and flan. Tomorrow I’m having tacos(!) for lunch at one of the best spots in Vineland. And there’s a retirement dinner Thursday night. All things to look forward to, and I’m glad I sucked a little more weight off this week to make room.
Things will happen soon. Next week, I’ll be in it. For now, I inhabit the strange interstitial world of a resignee.
From Julio’s on Main
I don’t know why but it feels natural.
I’ve been wracking my brain (and the internet) looking for apps from which to post to WordPress. On the Mac, there’s the excellent MarsEdit (although I have never really liked writing in it; it’s great for posting, especially images, to WordPress). Another cool option was using the TextMate blogging bundle, although it was always something I’d set up but never use.
But on Windows? There’s Open Live Writer, which works for posting but is a terrible writing envrionment. There’s Word, too, but sometimes the blog feature just stops working. Even iAWriter, which normally has a post to WordPress feature on macOS, iOS, and Android, doesn’t support the feature. I’ve been writing in Typora and pasting into the WordPress editor. It’s fine but…
Then I learned this evening that there’s an Obisidian community plugin that will post from Obsidian to WordPress. Game changed! I have Obisidian set up on my Windows devices so that I can access my old Devonthink database contents, which I’ve reorganized in my Documents folder on OneDrive using the PARA system. I can still write in Typora, too, since I keep all my Uncorrected drafts in one folder.
Back in January of 2023, when I was beginning my rowing and moderation routine (which would result, far exceeding my modest first goal, in my losing 83 pounds as of today), I started researching supplements.
I often wonder if it’s all a waste, but I feel pretty good! It’s not always practical to isolate variables with with a sample size of one.
This highlight from JD Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye I made on my Kindle popped up in Readwise today:
It immediately recalled Kurt Vonnegut’s “ting-a-ling!” from his alter ego, failed science fiction writer Kilgore Trout. Trout would respond “ting a ling!” to people who asked things like “how are you?” when they don’t really care what the answer is.
JH Writer, writing (ahem) about Kurt Vonnegut’s “Ting a ling!” from Timequake:
Vonnegut discusses the various meanings that various contexts produce in a phrase frequently used by one of his characters, Kilgore Trout, an out-of-print science fiction writer and Vonnegut’s admitted alter ego. The phrase is one Trout “would have said … to anyone who offered him an empty greeting, such as ‘How’s it goin’?’ or ‘Nice day’….” That phrase is: “Ting-a-ling!”
I always think of this part of Timequake when I see someone in the hall and we exchange a “howyadoin.” So pretty much every day.
This is a nice riff on the classic breakfast.
Rhonda, Aaron, and I were coming home from Rocco’s Town House last night after a nice dinner in our Subaru WRX, and a fellow WRX owner passed us northbound on Route 54. He waved at me and I did so in return. WRX owners are one of those examples of drivers who acknowledge each other when they see each other on the road. They are similarly likely to park next to another WRX in a parking lot.
Jeep owners are famous for this kind of behavior as well. The subculture in that community goes so far as to gift each other with little rubber ducks.
This is endearing behavior in an otherwise indifferent world. It is, too, a great example of a Granfalloon, a concept introduced in Kurt Vonnegut’s novel Cat’s Cradle:
In the madcap-but-wise universe of that founder, Bokonon, a granfalloon is an association of people who think that association means something. It is actually meaningless. A native of Indiana, Vonnegut offers “Hoosier” as an example: No Indianan has any control over the circumstances of his or her birth, yet Hoosiers they are, just as my meaningless membership is in a class of people who just happened to be born about the same time and found themselves confined within the same walls for four years of secondary education.
You can pick your Granfalloon; you might be part of one or many. Sports teams from your home town might be one of them. Eagles fans who say “I bleed green” are identifying with a Granfalloon. They are meaningless associations to which we ascribe meaning and belongingness.
Contrast the Grandfalloon to the karass identified in the same book. People in your karass are those you keep finding yourself associated with for what is not a clear reason. In the novel, they share some genuine or meaningful connection without actually knowing why. A granfalloon, in comparison, is a false karass.
You can enjoy a Granfalloon. But it’s worth knowing what one is and especially realizing that it’s a pleasant diversion, but not cosmically meaningful.