The blue, blue water, the bone-white sky

I have been re-reading my ancestral (i.e., my mother's hardcover) copy of The Original Illustrated Sherlock Holmes (1978), which made it a very nice thing at the end of a semi-rough day when this episode mysteriously fell off the back of a hansom. I have loved Jeremy Brett and David Burke since childhood, but having recently been discussing various unsatisfactory versions of Irene Adler with skygiants and genarti, I was refreshingly impressed by the immediate intelligence—and faithfully portrayed opera!—of Gayle Hunnicutt. The predictable result is that now I want to rewatch both the Granada Sherlock Holmes (1984–94) and The Legend of Hell House (1973). Have a couple of links.

1. Courtesy of spatch: sunbathing mermaids, with duck.

2. Courtesy of moon_custafer: mildly Talmudic Batman meta.

3. Courtesy of handful_ofdust: "my mom's childhood town."

I have not attended High Holidays services in years, but I really don't appreciate dreaming that I was told by a synagogue that I couldn't enter because I'd once been sick. That is not how either science or Judaism works. It is, however, a fascinatingly obvious anxiety dream.

At least tomorrow I'll see the coast

Tonight in adventures in Zoom: it became much easier for me to hear greygirlbeast after Spooky took the small resin Cthulhu off their microphone.

(I remain not constituted by nature for videoconferencing, but humans are social animals and I miss my friends. Also I got to see the Tattooed Lydia for the first time since June 2018. Autolycus reciprocated by blocking the camera.)