Hea has been unemployed for a little over two years, and she can’t see that ending anytime soon. Her burnout has been catastrophic — and so far, bottomless.
“I went on short-term disability at first, for my mental health, but after that ran out I used up all of my sick days. Then I applied for a longer medical leave, which shockingly, I got for a little while,” she explains. “I was luckier than most people, who don’t get any paid time off. But then they mysteriously eliminated my position. I’ve been floundering ever since.”
My plans for mudlarking on Saturday were thwarted when all my trains were cancelled. It took me three hours to get to Lincoln’s Inn Fields where I was going for a picnic so I didn't have time to mudlark as well.
On Sunday, I broke a bowl, dropped it on the floor and it smashed, and I held up a triangular sherd and wondered whether people would find the sherd from my bowl in the future, with a peri-peri flavour. I wondered if I should take it to the foreshore.
On the Sunday though, the trains were running again, so I headed to Blackfriars. The blue Croc was still there that I saw on Friday. I walked along a wooden plank that had washed up. It was a hot day but at that time I was the only one on the foreshore.
I picked up more small black tiles, but one had the corner damaged.
I heard music from a busker by the station.
I was no longer feeling how I used to when I started mudlarking, no feeling of Flow, no clearing of the mind. I wondered if I'd grown bored of it and should play more Ingress.
I seem to have trained my eyes to spot pottery sherds but I would like to find other things more as I have a lot of sherds now.
I found a cork and when I got it home I realised it said “Kylie Minogue” on it. I hadn't realised Kylie Minogue wine existed and you can buy it at Sainsbury's.
I found a red piece that could be a bit of brick or tile that looks like it says “Taylor” on it.
I found some glass that looked like it said “ord” on it. Ordinary?
I found a sherd that says “don” and presumably once said “London”.
-- I headed to Wapping after that, as the tide got lower.
While I had been to the Prospect of Whitby (the Pelican Stairs) before I hadn't been to the other bit of Wapping - accessed through the New Crane Stairs.
The steps there were missing at the bottom, replaced with boulders, so I used the green slimy wall for balance.
I thought I was alone there on the foreshore until I noticed the people fishing, with their lines cutting off part of the shore. I walked in the opposite direction and walked along the foreshore to Wapping Pier.
I saw Canada Geese and goslings lying on the foreshore.
I passed one set of stairs that had been removed - Wapping Dock Stairs. There were a few concrete steps to start with but the metal stairs that were once there were no longer.
King Henry's Stairs at Execution Dock, near to Wapping Pier were actually just a metal ladder.
I walked back to the New Crane Stairs.
I saw a duck with five ducklings following, moving fast across the foreshore.
I saw a man in the Thames, water up to his shorts, spear fishing.
I enjoyed Wapping as it was somewhere new - maybe that was the problem earlier, lack of novelty at Blackfriars. It also felt vast and quieter without all the tourists walking past.
I found a lot of pottery sherds in Wapping - I am collecting blue and white ones currently for a mosaic, but there was one that looked almost like a nose, one with a letter ‘E’ and various pieces with patterns I haven't seen before. There was also some glass that had degraded and looked so pretty.
So, today I had a physio appointment at the far from eligible hour of 1 pm, what is this even, do these people not have lunch hours? also it was at the uphill all the way clinic.
Anyway, I got there in very good time, and was able to ascertain the bus stop that would actually take me in the right sort of direction for getting home.
(It was actually quite a nice walk past people's flowering gardens or council floral bits.)
And it was a very good and useful session, with a senior person as well as my usual physio, and I think we may be getting to some habit-changing things that might improve matters.
So after I had come out I went and caught the bus, which is one that goes across rather than up and down (so much of London Transport being designed on the principle of getting people into Central London and back out again) and it is a nice bus that goes past Highgate Cemetery, even if it is the newer bit, and the hospital, and okay, ends up at a slightly non-intuitive place behind Archway, but I was able eventually to locate the relevant stop for an onward bus.
***
And in other news, I have whizzed off an application for the Fellowship I mentioned and have had several kind offers from FB friends to provide letters of recommendation.
***
(I did not know about Gladys Knight and the Pips version of The Boy from Crosstown!)
Dear Carolyn: Self-admitted crabby old broad here. My newish next-door neighbors are 24/7 noise. While the apartment is a studio, I can hear at least two adults and two children — one infant, one toddler.
The kids are up at all hours — either screaming in delight and running around or wailing in misery. The adults yell all the time. Movies, TV and music all play at incredible volume, and now a dog was added to the mix. It howls and cries whenever they leave it alone.
I don’t want to be That Person, but I’m tired of asking them, at 1 a.m., to turn down the TV, music, etc. Do I report them to the condo board? They are tenants. I’m hesitant, as I worry this studio may be the only space they can afford, but also frustrated by the noise.
Dear Care and Feeding, My husband and I have a 7-year-old daughter, “Jade,” who my mother-in-law, “Pam,” is in the habit of buying clothes for without consulting us. These are always girly-girl things—mostly dresses, lots of pink—and Jade is absolutely not a girly-girl. She refuses to wear them, and we end up donating them.
The trouble is that Pam takes offense that she never sees Jade wearing “what I worked so hard to pick out” and has even gone so far as to guilt her: “Don’t you like what Nanna gave you?” I have tried explaining to my MIL that while we appreciate her generosity, Jade simply isn’t into those types of things, but she refuses to accept it and thinks that our daughter will come to like them “once she matures.” My husband says we should just carry on as we have and let her waste her money if she wants. Pam has four boys, so he thinks that’s where this is coming from (Jade is her only granddaughter so far). Is that the right approach?
Single signon is a pretty vital part of modern enterprise security. You have users who need access to a bewildering array of services, and you want to be able to avoid the fallout of one of those services being compromised and your users having to change their passwords everywhere (because they're clearly going to be using the same password everywhere), or you want to be able to enforce some reasonable MFA policy without needing to configure it in 300 different places, or you want to be able to disable all user access in one place when someone leaves the company, or, well, all of the above. There's any number of providers for this, ranging from it being integrated with a more general app service platform (eg, Microsoft or Google) or a third party vendor (Okta, Ping, any number of bizarre companies). And, in general, they'll offer a straightforward mechanism to either issue OIDC tokens or manage SAML login flows, requiring users present whatever set of authentication mechanisms you've configured.
This is largely optimised for web authentication, which doesn't seem like a huge deal - if I'm logging into Workday then being bounced to another site for auth seems entirely reasonable. The problem is when you're trying to gate access to a non-web app, at which point consistency in login flow is usually achieved by spawning a browser and somehow managing submitting the result back to the remote server. And this makes some degree of sense - browsers are where webauthn token support tends to live, and it also ensures the user always has the same experience.
But it works poorly for CLI-based setups. There's basically two options - you can use the device code authorisation flow, where you perform authentication on what is nominally a separate machine to the one requesting it (but in this case is actually the same) and as a result end up with a straightforward mechanism to have your users socially engineered into giving Johnny Badman a valid auth token despite webauthn nominally being unphisable (as described years ago), or you reduce that risk somewhat by spawning a local server and POSTing the token back to it - which works locally but doesn't work well if you're dealing with trying to auth on a remote device. The user experience for both scenarios sucks, and it reduces a bunch of the worthwhile security properties that modern MFA supposedly gives us.
There's a third approach, which is in some ways the obviously good approach and in other ways is obviously a screaming nightmare. All the browser is doing is sending a bunch of requests to a remote service and handling the response locally. Why don't we just do the same? Okta, for instance, has an API for auth. We just need to submit the username and password to that and see what answer comes back. This is great until you enable any kind of MFA, at which point the additional authz step is something that's only supported via the browser. And basically everyone else is the same.
Of course, when we say "That's only supported via the browser", the browser is still just running some code of some form and we can figure out what it's doing and do the same. Which is how you end up scraping constants out of Javascript embedded in the API response in order to submit that data back in the appropriate way. This is all possible but it's incredibly annoying and fragile - the contract with the identity provider is that a browser is pointed at a URL, not that any of the internal implementation remains consistent.
I've done this. I've implemented code to scrape an identity provider's auth responses to extract the webauthn challenges and feed those to a local security token without using a browser. I've also written support for forwarding those challenges over the SSH agent protocol to make this work with remote systems that aren't running a GUI. This week I'm working on doing the same again, because every identity provider does all of this differently.
There's no fundamental reason all of this needs to be custom. It could be a straightforward "POST username and password, receive list of UUIDs describing MFA mechanisms, define how those MFA mechanisms work". That even gives space for custom auth factors (I'm looking at you, Okta Fastpass). But instead I'm left scraping JSON blobs out of Javascript and hoping nobody renames a field, even though I only care about extremely standard MFA mechanisms that shouldn't differ across different identity providers.
Someone, please, write a spec for this. Please don't make it be me.
On July 4, 2026, the United States of America will celebrate its 250th birthday. To prepare for the big celebration, museums across the country are inviting the public to answer the question: “What’s your wish for America’s future?”
In a project designed by 26-year-old artist Katie Costa and developed by Made By Us, a nonprofit that promotes civic engagement among Gen-Z, thousands are responding.
As an alternative to single-use plastic wrapping, Ogilvy Colombia and Nestlé Central America have created “Self-Packing Cheese.”
The new biodegradable film is designed to decompose within 300 days of disposal — in stark contrast to the estimated 1,000 years it takes for standard plastic to break down.
And it’s entirely made from cheese waste and whey.
Now that's brilliant! Admittedly, we tend to buy block cheese or shredded cheese rather than slices, but lots of people prefer slices.
The weather has been sweltering here and is predicted to remain so for the rest of the week. The weekend currently predicts rain, though. Seen at the birdfeeders this week: a mixed flock of sparrows and house finches, several mourning doves, a male cardinal, a catbird, a skunk, a fox squirrel, and at least 1 probably 2 bats. Zucchini has flower buds. Currently blooming: dandelions, pansies, violas, marigolds, petunias, red salvia, wild strawberries, verbena, lantana, sweet alyssum, zinnias, snapdragons, blue lobelia, perennial pinks, impatiens, oxalis, moss rose, yarrow, red coreopsis, anise hyssop, firecracker plant, tomatoes, tomatillos, Asiatic lilies, cucumber, astilbe, daylilies, snowball bush, yellow squash, zucchini, morning glory. The first 'Chocolate Sprinkles' tomato ripened. Blackberries and tomatoes have fruit showing color. Wild strawberries, mulberries, and black raspberries are ripe.
As I write this, I’ve just come back from a nice little bike ride around my neighbourhood. I got sweaty, went fast, climbed a few little hills, descended a few little hills, waited my turn at traffic lights and 4-way stops (you’re welcome), and nearly got hit by two different drivers who were each doing something illegal.
Ah, exercise in North America. So glamorous, so safe, so encouraged.
Anyway, cycling is the second sport I have picked up since I accidentally discovered that I enjoy INTENSITY and GOING FAST. It is the second sport I have picked up since I accidentally discovered that I don’t care if I’m the only fat person at the group ride, I’M HERE TO RIDE. It is the second sport I have picked up since I accidentally discovered that exercise, when you remove all the crusty old baggage about it being a Moral Obligation and a Means to Weight Loss (it usually isn’t, and focusing on that ruins the fun), is something I not only need in some abstract sense, but something I crave in a very visceral, very obvious way.
It makes me feel better physically, it both excites me and calms me down, it cheers me up, it puts a bright spot of play into my day, and it emotionally regulates me in a way that not even therapy could. It’s also just pure joy, pure pleasure, pure fun. I think that gets lost when we live in a culture that alienates us from movement and from our own bodies.
As a kid, I never thought of myself as “athletic” because I did not participate in any formal sports, but looking back, there were signs. I loved tumbling in the yard, playing on the playground, throwing a ball around, bouncing on a trampoline, riding a bike or skateboard, and all kinds of games. I did not enjoy things I found boring: lap swimming, ballet, baseball, football, running a mile or whatever we were assigned to do in gym class, but I still found ways to run around and exhaust myself by having fun, at least until my mid-teens.
Climbing around rocks at the old swimming hole.
By then, so many pressures around body image had developed that made me too self-conscious to use my body for any physical activity, especially in public, and I became not only hopelessly neurotic about my weight and appearance, but also dolefully depressed. No wonder.
As a young adult, I only engaged in exercise for the purpose of trying to lose weight, and frankly, it sucked. There were moments of joy, which surprised me, and moments of discovering some hidden strength or natural ability, which also surprised me, but all of these were overshadowed by The Agenda to burn calories and lose weight. Which meant that, even for activities that I enjoyed, like karate or riding a bike, I applied myself to them with a rigidity and drivenness that precluded all flexibility, all self-compassion, and all joy. And when the diet fell apart, as it inevitably would, so did my relationship with exercise.
I spent the next decade or so only engaging in incidental movement, essentially giving myself permission to not do any intentional exercise. (I once mentioned that on here, and a few commenters were SO MAD about that.) I was lucky to live in a city with decent public transit, and I don’t drive, which meant that I got a fair bit of walking in, which kept me strong and mobile even when I had no desire to do it. This was uncomfortable at times, but because it had nothing to do with trying to lose weight, it was psychologically neutral. I didn’t exactly enjoy it, but I didn’t always hate it either. The most I could muster was a mild resentment.
About seven years in, I started not just taking transit and walking partway to work, but walking all the way to work, a mile each way. For the first time, I noticed that I enjoyed the physical sensations of getting my heart revved up, feeling a bit warm and even sweaty, and the exhilaration of breathing hard. I was only able to start enjoying these sensations once I’d practiced, repeatedly, taking away the reflexive judgment I’d learned to attach to them, like believing that breathing hard meant I was “unfit” and something was wrong with me, or that showing any kind of exertion in public must be a mortifying event because I was fat and everyone would notice. Some people did notice, and did comment that I was sweating, and I was able to calmly explain that I’d been walking briskly. On purpose. For exercise. This was very effective at both silencing them and making them look a bit silly, which I admit, I enjoyed.
Instead of feeling bad, I reminded myself (over and over) that of course your heart rate goes up when you exercise, and that’s what it’s supposed to do, and of course you feel warmer as you move faster, and of course you sweat to cool yourself down, and of course you breathe harder to get oxygen into your bloodstream and to your cells, because that’s what exercise is supposed to do. No matter how much or little exertion it takes to get these sensations, getting to them is basically the point. You can also choose to go slow and not push it, and just enjoy fresh air and stretching your legs, of course, but on days when you want to push a little harder or faster to challenge yourself, your body showing signs of exertion is exactly what should happen. Feeling challenged is literally the only way to increase your fitness. It does not mean something is “wrong” with you.
A few years after that, I started working from home and no longer had to walk much at all. I went through a phase of grief and sat down a lot, and I lost some mobility (and also gained some weight.) The urge to panic was strong, but I held fast to my values, and asked myself what I was truly worried about. Was it really the weight gain, or something else?
In thinking it over, it was mostly fear about the loss of strength and mobility, since I knew my life would get harder. I thought about it some more, and realized the best way for me* to improve my mobility was to…use it. To practice walking. To practice walking in sand, or up hills, or even up my arch-nemesis, stairs. Maybe I’d lose the weight I’d gained and maybe I wouldn’t, but either way, I would be more mobile and less afraid. So I bought some comfy walking clothes, and for the first time since childhood, I attempted to go for walks purely for recreation. I had to remind myself over and over not to monitor my heart rate, not to shoot for any “fat burning zone,” and not to count the minutes or create elaborate fitness routines in my head, but to focus instead on my internal sensations, on doing whatever felt good that day, on the trees, the sky, the dogs, the fresh air and the scenery around me. I did that enough that I started to get faster and feel better, even before my weight did anything. Eventually, over the next five years, it gradually settled back into my old (fat) baseline, without me forcing it to do anything at all.
*this is not true for everyone; see: CFS/ME, certain chronic pain or autoimmune conditions that you can’t exercise your way out of, and which require medical treatment first
I continued walking, for fun, for mental health (because at some point, my therapist pointed out how great it feels to walk when angry, to get all those stompy feelings out, which was an amazing revelation to me), and to enjoy the scenery, and even to enjoy the warm, sweaty exertion of it. I had a solid walking habit between 2011-2018, and I took a walk around lunchtime basically every day.
I always offered myself the chance to go, without forcing myself to go, usually by putting on my shoes and coat and stepping outside for some reason, to take out the recycling or just to check the weather. Then I got to decide whether I felt like going for a walk that day or not. I had full permission to turn around and come back inside if I wasn’t feeling it, but usually I was feeling it.
I started to anticipate my lunch break like a wiggly dog looks forward to the park. Each day, I had permission to walk briefly, for maybe five minutes around the block, to walk slow or fast, or not at all, or to walk farther, for a bigger neighbourhood loop that took 45-60 minutes, if I wanted to. Sometimes I did. Sometimes I walked for five minutes. Each time, I felt good afterward. If I took a rest day and went back inside, I felt good about that, too. I practiced making the right choice for that day. I was flexible.
Do you make crafts? Do you like to look at crafts? Would you like to get (or give) advice about crafts? All crafts are welcome. Share photos, stories about projects in progress, and connect with other crafty folks.
You are welcome to make your own posts, and this community will also do a monthly call for people to share what they are working on, or what they've seen which may be inspiring them. Images of projects old or new, completed or in progress are welcome, as are questions, tutorials and advice.
Dear Eric: My sister-in-law made quilts for two of her nieces. They unwrapped them to oohs, aahs and applause on Christmas Eve at my house. My daughter did not receive a gift. I sent a polite email to sister-in-law explaining that my daughter was disappointed. I received a snail mail reply that included a gift certificate and a note. Sister-in-law wrote that I was a bully and stated that she would never set foot in my house again. She hasn’t for several years. What should I do?
— Stitchy Situation
Situation: Your sister-in-law’s reaction was a bit extreme, all things considered (or at least all things detailed in your letter). This suggests to me that maybe there’s something else under it for her, whether it’s other issues she has with your relationship or a sensitivity around the particular gift. Or maybe her feelings were hurt by your email, even though it was polite.
The best way to sort it all out is by asking. It’s been years and she hasn’t come back, so I’m curious what your relationship is like outside of visits. Has this escalated to grudge territory? Does she speak to you at all? If she doesn’t, you may have to make a bigger gesture in order to reset things. Telling her, “I don’t like what happened between us” and “I’m sorry for my part” could help lay a foundation for reconciliation.
Try, if you can, not to let the conversation get too caught up in what happened years ago, though. The gift card, the email, et cetera. All the details can become places where you both get stuck relitigating and rehashing. Instead, focus on the objective of the conversation — you want to re-establish contact. It will also help to have a concrete goal, as well as an emotional one. Perhaps something like extending an invitation for her to come for lunch.
If she’s not receptive to a phone call or face-to-face conversation, an email or letter will work, but a spoken conversation is vastly more effective.
On the possible academic library etc access thing, somebody has kindly pointed me at the Institute of Historical Research Non-Stipendiary Fellowships, which look fairly much the thing -
- except that the window for application closes on Friday, and besides getting an application together I need a letter of support testifying to my 'interest in research, good faith and behaviour' (at least, unlike the Bodleian, there is no cavil about naked flames).
So there's that.
In other, is this good or bad, had an email from person on committee of Society with which I have had associations in the past and published in their organ (hurhhurh) saying a) they have come across a piece I published in that organ and might I like to give a paper at their upcoming conference?
Well, I could possibly throw something together -
And b) the archives of this Society and a precursor organisation in which I am particularly interested have been deaccessioned by the Academic Institution where they were held (which has, I remark, form in this matter), and returned them to the Society.
I have, in what I hope was a reasonable tone, exhorted them to put them in another repository pronto, I recommend X, where they will be with archives of related org, also the vast and important collection previously unhomed by the Institution in question.
I feel as if I haven't been inflicting enough questionable moments from history on y'all recently so... to the art mobile!
One of my favourite aspects of art is that even if one broadly shares many cultural influences with an artist it remains possible to be completely mystified by wth they were thinking when they painted THAT... ?! Anyway, meet Dosso (nickname for Giovanni di Niccolò de Luteri) whose patrons, male and female, liked him to paint cryptic allegories, i.e. even if you know the stories that inspired them you won't necessarily be able to decipher the message... if there is a message and the artist wasn't just messing with viewers... or drunk... or whatevz. All links to wikimedia, obv.
An allegory of Fortune, 1530-ish, in which a naked woman with only one sandal blows a giant bubble and a gravity defying gold cloth out of her... self, apparently, while staring at a handful of scratch-cards being waved by a man with slightly more dignified drapery.
An allegory of Music, 1522-ish, in which a partially naked woman (two sandals tho) stares at another naked woman's breasts, while a guy with the worst mankini in recorded history is distracted from retuning stringed instruments WITH A HAMMER by an angry arsonist toddler.
1535-ish, Hercules playing with a desk toy while a woman with her naked breasts in a fruit bowl stares at a goat... or possibly the head of the woman next to her who is sporting a marginally more fancy hat. IDK. Post your own explanation in comments plz. P.S. Beware of the baby magpie cos its got a knife... and some... I want to guess cheese? Cute dog tho.
Seven seems like enough bogglement for one day, or one bogglement for every day of the next week and then if you're good I might share a few portraits from my collection of unlikely nuns.
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