Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Pastel Colors

Love Cee Neuner’s Fun Foto Challenge!

This week’s challenge is PASTEL COLORS.

It turned out to be surprisingly hard to find photos with predominantly pastel colors!

These flesh-coloured gourd plants were at the San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers:

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The Magritte exhibit at SFMOMA on self’s birthday in July:

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A bit of nostalgia:

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Map of the Philippines, Son’s Room in Redwood City, California

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

 

The Harvard Law Record, 20 September 2018

Posted by Molly Coleman, Vail Kohnert-Yount, Jake Meiseles, and Sejal Singh:

Given that Kavanaugh’s class, “The Supreme Court Since 2005,” is still on the schedule for winter term of this academic year, we have a few questions for the Harvard Law School administration.

Will Harvard Law School take seriously the credible allegation of Kavanaugh’s sexual assault against a young woman before he is allowed to continue teaching young women? Or will Harvard allow him to teach students without further inquiry — and continue paying him our tuition money? In 2018, he earned $27,490 for nine days of teaching.

Has Harvard Law School considered how this opportunity to learn about the Supreme Court might not be equally available to women because many will self-select out of a class taught by a credibly accused sexual assailant?

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Re-reading Robert E. Greene’s The 48 Laws of Power

An emotional response to a situation is the single greatest barrier to power, a mistake that will cost you a lot more than any temporary satisfaction you might gain by expressing your feelings. — Robert Greene


Plus, from one of her old journals:

  • Today I had a massage . . . lol

Written, of course, in Bacolod. In Bacolod, self was always so mellow. She was never angry. A one-hour massage averaged 500 pesos, about $9. She had daily massage, over there. Heck, she could even have had two massages daily, if she felt like it. All the masahistas had strong, unerring hands. They seemed to know by instinct. Only once did self ever have a bad message in Bacolod: the woman just moved her hands skimmingly over the skin, didn’t really knead it. Ugh, self felt she’d spent a full hour just being tickled.

One night, during a massage, self kept hearing the distant, popping sounds of what she thought were gunshots. It made her so uneasy. The masahista said it was Firecrackers. Oh, it was New Year’s Eve? It had completely slipped self’s mind.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

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