TO AN AMATEUR SKYWATCHER (in the original sense of that first word), the beginning of the month is quite special; it’s when the new issue of Astronomy arrives. Among that magazine’s many excellent features and fixtures is “Ask Astro,” where experts answer readers’ questions. Here is something from the May 2023 “Ask Astro” that — well, just look:
THE MISSIONARY AT THE DOOR was polite but insistent as she tried to hand me a tract.
I bowed my head and pointed to my yarmulke. “No thank you,” I said.
Her eyes widened and her mouth made a little “o” of consternation as she backed away. “Thank you for being so courteous,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” I said, and closed the door.
Usually, my “yarmie” acts as a lighthouse for interesting conversations. It’s good, and a little sad, that it can also act as a conversation stopper.
– Definition: adj.; chiefly British chaotic, disorganized, or mismanaged.
– Used in a sentence: Our political and cultural landscapes have become shambolic as all get-out.
– Why: Because we need a more polite (and adjectival) descriptor than… those in current usage.
“DO YOU WANT ANSWERS? Or better, more interesting questions?”
ALBACORE GETS ALL THE PRESS when it comes to canned tuna, but skipjack is the preference ’round here due to its richer flavor. (Think of it as a “white meat / dark meat” thing.) And the preference for preparing an economical and delicious sandwich of same is as follows:
Drain two cans of pole-caught, no-salt-added skipjack ($2.29 a can at our local Whole Foods). Flake into desired container. Add a few squirts of Tabasco and some fresh-ground black pepper to taste, enough dill relish to provide a nice crunch, and a modest squeeze of anchovy paste. Moisten with sufficient ranch dressing to hold everything together and mix thoroughly.
To serve: Toast some good bread as dark as you like it. Spread one piece thickly with skipjack mixture, top with a leaf or two of romaine lettuce, and top that with the other toast-slice. Cut diagonally and place both halves at an angle on a suitable plate, fill the intervening space with kettle-cooked potato chips, and have at!
THERE IS A REASON THAT the expression “take care with your wishes” is such a widespread cliché.
It was a fine spring day, mixing an unbroken vault of blue, the alluring scent of sun-warmed fragrantia, and magah-birds crooning sprightly refrains from the branches of occasional latticewood trees. Prosatio Silban tugged at the plaited yak-hair reins, brought his dray-beast and galleywagon to a gentle halt, and whistled in wonder.
They had emerged from the trees into a broad lawn encircling a tall white dome set atop a gentle rise. The dome seemed to be missing a vertical section, but from his perspective, the cook-errant couldn’t see what lay within the darkened cavity.
WE’VE ALL HEARD OF LOST arts. But what about lost artists?
Prosatio Silban rolled out of his sleeping-berth and onto his ornate braided rug, studying the bedside mirror with worry etched on his face and defeat slumping his shoulders.
I can’t do this anymore, he thought at his downcast image.
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