mastodon 4.7.3Maintaining foss digital painting app Krita, a woman and according to my wife, a stillroom maid. I paint, sculpt and like languages. Also RPG: https://valdyas.org/galsin/.
Note: I very selectively follow back because my timeline is already overfull. I am also bit cautious about who I let follow me, sorry for that.
I mostly post irrelevant little real life status updates, because this is where I go to be myself. I'm a fiery antifa, but also too sick to actually act.
Does this rekindle any memories, anyone?
As a child, After dinner, after me clearing the table, I was supposed to carefully pluck the table cloth together and go out the front door, almost close the door and shake the table cloth so all crumbs and things would fall loose, and then fold the table cloth (carefully, all corners aligned), take it inside and close the front door.
This was late seventies, early eighties, Netherlands. I remember not being the only one in the street doing this.
The absolute cisfemme emotion of sipping a glass of wine on a cafe terrace, seeing amazingly thin, cute girls with bare midriffs walking past and going "yeah, no, I'm never going to be seventeen again. Pity. Clothes these days are much more fun."
And then the moment one realized that at seventeen I might have been cute, but nobody would have taken me for a girl. Also, no bare navels, but short-sleeved white dress shirts were, back then, the standard for yours truly.
@karolherbst@chaos.social framework also approached me about sponsoring #krita. Right when I was in hospital recovering from SRS, waiting to finally assemble the framework laptop I had ordered months earlier.
I admit I was thinking of asking them for, like, 10 and lots of zeroes, and, honestly, if I could've got a couple million, I would have put myself on the back seat, and accepted it.
But the money they are actually doling out is not just peanuts It's alms.
Inked sketch on paper #2 of the Hahnemuehle test block. This 650 (!!!) gram agave paper... I have been making notes while sketching and inking this experiment.
@Zeezee@mastodon.nl it's a pity there don't seem to be any passing street acts this year, but thanks for digging up this post from last year.
What still happens. though, is when I look out of our window at the passing public, there are people who look up, wave, and when I wave back, wave back again.
And that's pretty fun when I've been too sick to leave the house for days!
So many lovely people visit Deventer for Deventer op Stelten!
Eek. Wanted to take this powerbank with me to the hospital tomorrow, since I've got a five hour wait between appointments...
Okay, this was a horrible week. To be expected, since the week before I visited my dad, cooked twice, had a reading session and day of real work. And I started a sketch on my third sheet of Hahnemuehle watercolor paper.
So this week I was bed-ridden in a room with curtains shut, skipped a number of meals, slept badly couldn't do anything but re-read manhwa I already knew by heart.
Meh.
@imbl@social.treehouse.systems i feel called out...
The third sheet of Hahnemuehle paper was NOT a success...
Tyson Tan on the #krita 5.3/6.0 splash screen: https://tysontan.com/gallery/gallery-mascots/kiki-splash-2026/
On an obscure scanlation site I found some new chapters that I cannot order in paper yet for my fave manga, The Moon On A Rainy Night.
Note: the spoiler warning is serious.
Summary:
Kanon: "I reallized... Wait now, this is better!"
Kanon kisses Saki.
Kanon says, "Love you!"
Saki is all, "That cannot be, because I love you already, so how can you love me."
Kanon, jumps in Saki's arms, with a total disregard for proper useless lesbianism: "So it's mutual!!!"
Um, @Trouw@mastodon.nl ... Een hor is echt niet meer nodig als je 's nachts de ramen openzet. Tenminste hier in Deventer zijn er gewoon geen insecten meer van belang. Die ene muggebeet in de week overleef ik wel.
https://www.trouw.nl/duurzaamheid-economie/met-deze-tips-kun-je-het-in-huis-een-beetje-koeler-houden~bac40dd8/
RE: @DeGroene@social.groene.nl
Ah. Dit is waarom ik een abonnement heb.
Huh. This is pretty new to me. I mostly like every cuisine. But Korean was a no when I was taken out to a fancy authenntic Korean restaurant when working for Nokia, one that totally satistfied our Korean team member's homesickness.
I thought it was fatty, salty, sugary, soury, spicy -- and in the end bland.
I didn't fold, so I got recipes and stuff and ingredients... And learned and I still didn't like it. I got a proper manual and still thought it NG.
The manual was very posh, though...
Sometimes, when these posts appear in my timeline, they make me pause.
So Moses went to Norway when he was 20, the year the personal union between Norway and Sweden was dissolved. In this photo, he doesn't _look_ like a nice man, but who knows? Men who look nice often aren't, and the other way around.
I'd like to read his biography.
He was born before my grandparents.
Okay. We hebben een abonnement op @Trouw@mastodon.nl genomen om te vieren dat Ephimenco z'n racistische gal niet meer kan spuwen.
Maar ik had nooit verwacht dat de papieren krant om 4:38 in de bus zou vallen.
Now I've got a CO2 meter for the living room (though that broke after four weeks...) and the bedroom, and see that the level varies between 440 and 450... I'm wondering what the average level in the Netherlands was ca 1982, when I started coding...
Over kranten.
Er zijn 3 kranten in Nederland, afgezien van regionale bladen die bijna allemaal AD zijn: Trouw, NRC en Volkskrant.
Toen ik een kind was lazen mijn ouders geen krant, namelijk de Telegraaf.
Als tiener had ik NRC.
Toen ik trouwde, Trouw, die kwam met @irina@wandering.shop mee. Breedveld! Maar later, Ephimenco. Dus exit Trouw. Daarna Volkskrant en toen NRC, maar Vasterman.
Toen tijdje niets.
Maar nu hebben we weer Trouw. Ook op papier zelfs, maar ik kan de lettertjes niet meer lezen!
Um, question for fellow old-fogeys. I remember wearing splints on my legs when I was three or so (Dutch: spalkjes), Hard and grey on the outside, sheep's wool on the inside. They were stiff enough that I had to go up or down on the stairs on my butt.
My dad says he doesn't remember that, but _I_ remember even the texture of the straps tying them to me.
I have a vague association of having been told it was about growing pains, but at three, that cannot have been?
So, what were these for?
