My sky has been heavily overcast for days. This impairs my sense of the hours, and sometimes makes me feel dopey.

The cottonwoods are heavily shedding what look like very late snowflakes.

The first distinctive feature I’ve noticed in the local dialect is a habit, among some people in retail (and the like), of responding to every datum with “Perfect.”

Are you together? … Perfect.
Do you need more time to look at the menu? … Perfect.
Strawberry milkshake? Perfect.
Can I get your date of birth? … Perfect.

How wide is this tic’s range?

I couldn’t write here for a while because my webhost’s firewall blocked my IP. Did anyone notice?

I must have done something suspicious, perhaps my attempt to change a file’s permissions using FTP. (One of my mathematical pictures returns 403 for no obvious reason.)

Dissatisfied with my last couple of haircuts, I got the idea to shave it all off and take pictures over the following year before deciding what length I like best. The spring equinox seemed the most natural time to start such a project, so as to have short hair in summer and long in winter.

I denuded my scalp but chickened out as to my chin.

I promptly caught a cold which lasted 16 days.

Five weeks’ growth:

Answering the casting call for an Angry White Male!

My face has enough small asymmetries (my nose goes right and my chin goes left) that I shouldn’t have been surprised to find that my hairline recedes more on the left than on the right. Perhaps that’s because I parted it on the left for thirty years, so the hairs rooted there were longest, so those follicles were most stressed?