Kiddo last night: “please let me sleep in on Saturday!” Kiddo this morning: wakes up earlier than she does on a school day.

Over the past week, I’ve been called “Stephen” in two separate professional contexts by two people who ought to know my name. Starting to wonder if there’s something they know that I don’t.

If ClassDojo can send me “hey, check the new content in ClassDojo” emails, it could also send me that content in the email itself, so that I never have to open the app. Too bad it’s too dedicated to walled gardening.

Kiddo has EXTREMELY low standards for a pronouncement of “Best Daddy Ever,” but I’m grateful for it nonetheless.

Outlook’s semi-new “reactions” are killing me; if it’s not accessible from another email client, it shouldn’t be a feature. Email is one of the few shared web protocols we’ve got, so let’s not ruin it through platformization.

Kiddo is excited to be signed up for soccer, so we’ve spent time kicking her new ball around the past two nights. I’m surprised by how much is coming back to me, given that I haven’t played in ~15 years and that I’ve never been good.

Il y a un terrain de golf non loin de chez moi qui s’appellle Connemara. Je suis incapable de le voir sans penser à Michel Sardou.

Scrabble’s fundamental flaw is that it tries to make language more discrete and managed than it ever has been or ever will be.

Kiddo is complicating our errand to buy her soccer stuff by insisting on hugging all the mannequins in the sports store.

Venmo’s insistence that transactions be accompanied by notes makes me wonder what they’re doing with that data. For several months now, I’ve insisted on replacing any helpful indication with random characters.

If I were a better person, I’d be as rattled by any shooting as I am by the one on my alma mater’s campus. If we were a better country, that wouldn’t feel like such an overwhelming idea.

Now seems like a particular good time to bring up my perennial pet peeve that people treat the terms “UFOs” and “aliens” as synonyms when the whole point of the former is to reserve judgment about the latter.

I hurt myself on a pizza cutter last night—but not even on the blade? Somehow that last detail is absurd enough that I’m more upset about that than the injury itself.

I know Kirby Heyborne as the star of several Mormon B movies, so I was taken aback when he turned out to be the narrator for the audiobook of Cory Doctorow’s “Little Brother.” Weirdest Venn diagram overlap of my interests I’ve seen in a while.

One of my academic pet peeves is when people use the word rigor as a validating synonym for something else, like “quantitative” or “giving out lots of Cs.” Rigor is important, but narrow definitions aren’t useful.

If Elijah can make infinite flour and oil happen, demanding that the widow feed him first really comes off as a jerk move.

There’s a great John Finnemore sketch that involves a ridiculous number of nested stories, and I’m thinking of it as I approach the end of Frankenstein (a novel in the form of letters sent by a man recounting conversations with Frankenstein, who quotes other letters, etc.).

Pleased to see that page proofs I’m reviewing have preserved the emojis in quoted tweets. It’s frustrating for this social media researcher how many journal publication platforms do not support them.

I’m sure this is overthinking things, but I have a LOT of linguistic questions about Frankenstein.

The last time I read Frankenstein, I got a kick out of noticing all the Swiss connections. This time, I’m amusing myself by thinking of the title character as a hubristic tech bro.

Petite preuve que la technologie n’existe pas hors culture : Quand un site web américain n’acceptera pas un numéro de téléphone comme « valide » si les chiffres sont séparés par des points, comme j’ai pris l’habitude de faire. Faut des tirets, comme un vrai Étatsunisien.

First Gloomhaven session of 2023 yesterday. Tough scenario, and we might have lost either way, but my Leeroy Jenkinsing with a squishy Spellweaver certainly didn’t help.

Il faut une version de la chanson « Sacré Charlemagne » qui se plaint des responsabilités de la vie adulte.

Another Saturday, another bout with guilt and anxiety sparked by my general ignorance of home maintenance.

One of our newest family traditions is kiddo watching a Homestar Runner video during her bedtime snack while I do some dishes and see how many of the lines I still remember verbatim.