Want to join in? Respond to our weekly writing prompts, open to everyone.
Want to join in? Respond to our weekly writing prompts, open to everyone.
from inkwave
Donald Trump may not be on the ballot in the fall’s biggest political races, but both sides are counting on him to help them win,” CNN reports.
“A year after winning back the White House, Republicans are racing to motivate voters who love the president and Democrats are rallying those who don’t, as the races for governor in New Jersey and Virginia play out as an early referendum on Trump’s second term.
from dimiro1's notes
I just learned that we can use dbg/2
(https://hexdocs.pm/elixir/1.19.0/debugging.html#dbg-2) to debug expressions in Elixir. It's quite useful when used with the pipe operator – unlike IO.inspect
, it automatically shows each step in the pipeline.
defmodule MathUtils do
defp perfect_square?(n) do
sqrt = :math.sqrt(n)
sqrt == Float.floor(sqrt)
end
def filter_perfect_squares(str) do
str
|> String.split(",")
|> Enum.map(&String.to_integer/1)
|> Enum.filter(&perfect_square?/1)
|> Enum.join(",")
|> dbg() # <- the dbg in the pipeline
end
end
This prints not only the last result, but also each step of the pipeline:
MathUtils.filter_perfect_squares("1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9")
Output:
[Library/Application Support/livebook/autosaved/2025_10_18/09_51_enj6/untitled_notebook.livemd#cell:6ordqtno3dx7c2zp:13: MathUtils.filter_perfect_squares/1]
str #=> "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9"
|> String.split(",") #=> ["1", "2", "3", "4", "5", "6", "7", "8", "9"]
|> Enum.map(&String.to_integer/1) #=> [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9]
|> Enum.filter(&perfect_square?/1) #=> [1, 4, 9]
|> Enum.join(",") #=> "1,4,9"
Result: "1,4,9"
Other debugging options:
– IO.inspect/2
– prints a value and returns it (good for pipelines, but shows only one value)
– IO.puts/1
– simple print for strings
– dbg/2
– shows each pipeline step automatically
from metatheses
Et vient le jour...
Vient le jour où éclot ce qui n'avait été qu'à peine un rêve. Alors, l'on se regarde dans le miroir un peu autrement, et peut-être ne s'agit-il que de cela : se voir autre, si peu, et oser y croire enfin.
Enfin oser croire que CELA est vraiment vrai. Et possible.
Il n'est peut-être pas si simple de se laisser s'émerveiller. Mais il est très certain, et très vrai, que ce qui éclot vient toujours à être et à devenir par le hasard heureux d'une rencontre — ce fragment de ce qui ne fut qu'un rêve éclot là, précisément là, où quelqu'un a cru en vous, par conviction, par intuition peut-être. Et parmi ceux-là, parmi ceux qui ont cru que cela devait être possible, il convient que certains se tiennent à l'ombre des jours et des années qui passent en grande gratitude.
from Bloc de notas
podría escribir más pero su pluma estaba llena de omisiones saltos que eran sueños ciervos manos bisontes imágenes sobrepuestas sin saber si quería expresarse en piedra papel o tijera.
from Bloc de notas
un momento en cualquier parte por ejemplo junto al mar tragados por una sensación de eternidad quizás el ahora o más bien cuando el tiempo queda atrás / borrado luego por lo inmediato
from Meditaciones
Somos mejor compañía cuando evitamos hacernos notar.
from An Open Letter
There’s no power outage, it’s just weirdly nostalgic. Love her.
from Café histoire
Selon certaines source et désormais il y aurait maintenant plus d'articles créés par l'IA que par les humains.
Dans son étude, FivePercent indique que c'est le cas depuis novembre 2024.
Cela donne matière à réflexion lorsqu'on repense à la période “bénie” des blogs. Depuis les réseaux sociaux centralisés ont bousculé et largement détruit l'écosystème des blogs. Ils ont aussi détruit la conversation et l'échange.
Les blogs reviennent à une pratique de happy fews. Cela ne m'empêchera pas de privilégier cette saine pratique !
Source de l'info : More Articles Are Now Created by AI Than Humans
from Manual del Fuego Doméstico
Segunda clase… y vaya cambio de ritmo. Pasamos del mundo de los fondos a la técnica pura del salteado y el corte. El protagonista fue el ribeye, una carne jugosa y llena de sabor, que nos permitió entender los tiempos de cocción y el control del calor. El acompañante —un puré de papas al vapor— nos enseñó que, a veces, un pequeño cambio de método transforma por completo el resultado. (Sí, las cocimos al vapor.)
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Salteado (sauté): cocción rápida en sartén caliente, usando una grasa estable (aceite de maní o de alto punto de humo). Sellado de carne: 2 minutos por lado, luego reposo y control del término (medio o tres cuartos como máximo).
Cortes clásicos de papa: practicamos distintos tipos para entrenar precisión y uniformidad. Entre ellos:
(No hicimos todos, pero la chef los mencionó, casi en voz baja, como si fueran parte de un código secreto del oficio.)
El ejercicio fue casi matemático: seis papas, seis cortes, regla en mano. Nada como ver la mesa llena de cubos idénticos para entender lo que significa un mise en place de verdad.
El gran hallazgo de la clase: el puré perfecto nace del vapor, no del agua. Cocer las papas al vapor —sin contacto directo con el líquido— mantiene su estructura y evita que absorban humedad. El resultado es una textura más seca, ideal para prensar o pasar por tamiz.
Cocción: Papas cortadas en trozos regulares, cocidas en vaporera durante 25–30 minutos, hasta que un cuchillo entre sin resistencia. (Usamos la vaporera Viking: práctica, precisa, se coloca sobre la olla y listo.)
Aromáticos: Mientras tanto, se saltean puerros o cebollines en corte bichy —una juliana extremadamente fina, casi translúcida— en un poco de mantequilla, solo hasta que se suavicen sin dorarse. Ese paso aporta un fondo aromático delicado, elevando el sabor del puré sin opacar la papa.
Mezcla: Las papas calientes se prensan o se pasan por tamiz. Luego se incorporan los puerros salteados, la mantequilla en cubos pequeños y la leche tibia (nunca fría), hasta lograr una textura sedosa y aireada. Se ajusta sal y pimienta blanca al gusto.
Resultado: Un puré ligero, brillante y con notas sutiles de cebolla dulce, perfecto para acompañar carnes salteadas o asadas. Suave, sin grumos, con ese toque de mantequilla que le da cuerpo y perfume.
💡 El secreto está en la temperatura: mantequilla y leche tibias, papas calientes, y nada de batidora —solo prensado o espátula de madera.
Técnica:
Cortes usados:
Ensamble: Todo se mezcla en un bowl: sal, pimienta y aceite de oliva. Una emulsión simple, vegetal y brillante. Un chimichurri modificado, más robusto gracias al pimiento asado.
Con las papas como guarnición y la carne en su punto —sellada, jugosa y reposada— montamos el plato final: ribeye salteado con puré de papas al vapor y chimichurri de pimientos.
Sencillo, técnico y delicioso.
Una clase que demostró que la excelencia no está en lo complejo, sino en hacer bien lo básico.
from Manual del Fuego Doméstico
📸 Academia Culinaria Hondureña – Clase de Fondo Claro.
En esta primera clase trabajamos dos pilares de la cocina clásica: el fondo blanco y la fritura de pollo.
Ambos parecen simples, pero exigen orden, temperatura y respeto por el detalle.
Aprender a cortar un pollo entero es una de las primeras lecciones de precisión. Más allá de separar piezas, se trata de entender la anatomía del ave y aprovechar cada parte sin desperdicio.
Así me enseñaron a hacerlo:
💡 Consejo: usar un cuchillo firme y delgado, y sentir con la hoja la unión de los huesos. No se trata de fuerza, sino de precisión.
No todos los aceites son iguales. El punto de humo —la temperatura a la que el aceite comienza a quemarse— es clave para decidir cuál usar.
Ideal para frituras. No aporta sabor y soporta hasta 270 °C. Es mi favorito, aunque cuesta casi el doble que los demás. Tres razones por las que vale la pena:
Punto de humo alto: resiste altas temperaturas sin quemarse ni producir sabores amargos. Mantiene la temperatura estable y pareja.
Sabor neutro: no altera el gusto del alimento. Ideal para frituras donde se busca pureza de sabor (pollo, tempura, empanizados, papas).
Estabilidad térmica: permite largas sesiones de fritura sin degradarse. Por eso se usa tanto en cocinas profesionales.
Alcanzan unos 220 °C, buenos para frituras suaves o controladas.
Cuando hablamos de “frituras suaves”, nos referimos a aquellas en las que no se busca un dorado intenso, sino una cocción pareja y menos agresiva.
Ejemplos:
Excelente en sabor, pero con punto de humo bajo (190 °C). No sirve para frituras largas, pero es perfecto para saltear.
Saltear (del francés sauter, “saltar”) es cocinar alimentos en poca grasa, a fuego medio o medio-alto, moviendo constantemente la sartén.
El objetivo es cocer rápido, con un ligero dorado, sin empaparse de aceite ni formar una costra crocante.
Temperatura: entre 160 °C y 190 °C, justo el rango donde el aceite de oliva brilla. Cantidad de grasa: solo una película fina de aceite.
Qué se saltea:
Saltear
Freír
El mirepoix es una mezcla de verduras que forma la base aromática de la mayoría de fondos y salsas.
Su proporción clásica es:
Se corta en cubos medianos (ni muy finos ni muy grandes) y se cuece lentamente junto con los huesos blanqueados de pollo.
A esto se añaden dos elementos clave:
(Aunque en la academia los echamos sin bolsa y sin atarlos, funciona igual porque colamos el fondo después).
Todo se cocina a fuego bajo y sin hervir con fuerza, espumando con frecuencia. El resultado es un líquido claro, limpio y aromático: el fondo blanco.
Para el fondo blanco:
Para el pollo frito:
Para la salsa de hongos:
Fondo blanco: cocinar los huesos blanqueados con el mirepoix, bouquet garni y sachet d’épices. Espumar frecuentemente y mantener el fuego suave.
Pollo frito: sazonar, pasar por harina y orégano, y freír hasta dorar. Escurrir bien.
Salsa de hongos: saltear los champiñones, agregar el roux y ligar con el fondo blanco hasta espesar.
Comprendí que la cocina clásica enseña respeto por el proceso.
Desde el corte de un pollo hasta la claridad de un fondo, todo se trata de método, atención y paciencia.
“El fuego lento no solo cocina el caldo: también templa la paciencia.”
Etiquetas: #academia #fondos #fritura #manualfuegodomestico
— Roberto Deleón Manual del Fuego Doméstico
from Prov
So it begins...
I have been pretty much avoiding the “encouragement” of writing for years now. We have finally reached the point of “now and not later.”
Firstly, I would like to pay respects to my late mother. A woman of wisdom, education, love, and family. The world feels emptier some days without you in it physically.
After meditating I realized the purpose of these writings are to share knowledge and motivate in a way that speaks to their spirit and spirituality. To talk about how one can come from the no self love, to loving myself and finally reaching my dreams, only to have those dreams deferred before I could even realize them. It's about being broken and finding my way again but in a deeper spiritual sense It's about learning love, empathy, compassion, and more patience than I could ever conceive. It's about connecting with my ancestors and spiritual guides assigned to me. Mosty importantly, it is about engaging with my purpose so that I may fulfill my mission in this lifetime and finally have peace to move on from it.
May the whoever finds this blog be meant to find it. May you be inspired and spoken to. May it guide you towards you spiritual mission on this planet. Thanks for stopping by.
Prov
from inkwave
White House budget director Russell Vought said that the Trump administration will freeze another $11 billion worth of infrastructure projects in Democratic-leaning cities due to the ongoing government shutdown.
from inkwave
President Trump said he had commuted the sentence of former Rep. George Santos, who is serving more than seven years in federal prison after pleading guilty to fraud and identity theft charges, the AP reports.
Trump said Santos would be released “immediately.
from Roscoe's Story
In Summary: * A successful Friday is wrapping up. Assembled paperwork this morning that I'll need to prove my point to the IRS when I call them next week, and remained calm. Some days that type of situation would stress me terribly, but not today. Peace of mind is so nice.
Prayers, etc.: * My daily prayers.
Health Metrics: * bw= 219.25 lbs. * bp= 126/76 (64)
Exercise: * kegel pelvic floor exercise, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups
Diet: * 06:15 – toast & butter, 1 banana * 08:35 – ½ peanut butter sandwich * 10:30 – 4 boiled eggs * 12:30 – Beef chop suey lunch plate, fried rice, chicken strips * 17:15 – 1 fresh apple
Activities, Chores, etc.: * 05:00 – listen to local news talk radio * 05:30 – bank accounts activity monitored * 06:20 – pray, read, follow news reports from various sources, and nap * 12:30 to 14:00 – watch old game shows and eat lunch at home with Sylvia * 14:40 – stock newly arrived grocery order * 15:15 – pray, read, follow news reports from various sources, listen to relaxing music * 19:00 – tuned into Minnesota Golden Gophers Radio Network ahead of their college football game tonight vs the Nebraska Cornhuskers
Chess: * 09:55 – moved in all pending CC games
from Roscoe's Quick Notes
Tonight I'm tuned into the Minnesota Golden Gophers Radio Network and following their college football game vs the Nebraska Cornhuskers.
Go Gophers!
and the adventure continues.
from wystswolf
Upon which I spin out emotionally and try to claw my way back.
I don’t know what happened tonight, but something something’d.
Wysteia asked me a question and it sliced a big ol gaping wound that gushed for 8 hours.
I’m desperate for escape, to be seen, to be heard, to be listened too. She knows that being seen is as critical to me as air.
When asked innocently asked about my SO’s promise to take on work to carry us away from Dust Meridian... I had to confront the reality of my situation– NO ONE is going to save me.
I'm out of work. Not completely, but in a meaningful way. The kind of way that a man needs to feel like he's doing his duty as a provider. I'm fine with my wife carrying the load while things turn around. It doesn't disable me psychologically for her to carry it.
But she stopped working 5 years ago and can't muster the momentum to pick it back up. I have to find a solution, but I can't do that here in Dust Meridian and I recently discovered that she has no real desire to leave.
I've been waiting to leave since I arrived here.
Mine is a life lived in service of others, always putting self behind the greater need. But, now I find that which always came to fulfill me while I cared for others... it is no longer there. I reach for it in the dark, and all I find is empty space.
That speaks to this concept of me not feeling seen. Invisibility is a cut throat.
And I don't know where to go for rescue.
Can't you see? I'm slipping away. I can only stay if you've the will to keep me here.
I need them. I need you. Witness me. Let me know I matter. I'm sorry I need constant attention. Like that plant that is ready to die the first time it misses a watering.
I am waiting. Just waiting to see you, can you see me?
This is not just a line, it is a prayer. The potter made me and I cannot question his methods. But as some vessels are for an honorable purpose and some for a dishonorable, I guess I'd just like to know what I am for.
I am waiting. Confident. Patient for so long. Now, I'm questioning everything. Playing the hand I was dealt but realizing in this deck, some of the cards change randomly, and many are missing.
Yet, I play on. I wait.
A lifetime of waiting at the train station, certain my promised line is going to come. But every whistle I hear is at a stop far, far away. All my family is here, bags packed, minimal kit, eager and anxious to board. New passengers coming every day, and me moving closer to the front as those who arrived before me can not longer endure the wait.
They turn and leave, or they simply fade to dust; who they were now only memory. We sweep away the remains and say 'REMEMBER'. And we do. We honor our fallen comrades, and promise to stand fast in the Way.
But night is getting along, and I understand now why some cannot wait. The call of nature, whatever form that is, overwhelms them. I do not think them wicked as once I did, nor even wrong. Just that this station is a hard ask on broken minds.
I see some groups, they are circled tight and loving one another. Look at her spoon warm soup in to the mouth of a tired old face. And him, holding up the broken countenance of another. And I notice that the huddle I've joined doesn't reflect that the way I expect. The way I have experienced.
There is some network here in my small chosen family. But not enough. I feel too cold. is it me? Have I not drawn my coat tightly enough against the cold, icy rain? Or chosen a poor hat to shield against the wind?
I have so many questions. I've written them in prayer, and telegraphed them to the conductor, but the only replies are; 'I love you', 'Be Patient', 'This too shall pass'.
I am thankful for those replies. The 66 letters he sent me.
And maybe that is the answer. That i need to re-read his letters. I've scoured them. There is therein not defined when the train will come, just promise after promise after promise that it will.
The houses in town, though. They look warm and inviting in the cold dark. If I leave for them... my train will come. i know it.
The train will come.
It will go with out.
I will be abandoned.
Is that not the fear of my life? To be forgotten? Overlooked? Put away? Where does that come from? The psychologist says:
When a child grows up in danger — physical, sexual, or emotional — the body learns hypervigilance.
It means: “I must always be alert or I will be hurt or left.” That state becomes the default wiring of the nervous system. Even decades later, the adult self may interpret any distance, delay, or silence as threat or rejection, even when none is meant. It’s not weakness; it’s conditioning.
In neuroscience terms: The amygdala (alarm system) stays overactive. The prefrontal cortex (reasoning, calm) is slower to engage under stress. You feel abandonment as danger — not metaphorically, but biologically.
Psychologists call this anxious attachment or sometimes disorganized attachment (if love and harm were intertwined early on—HOLY CRAP were they intertwined).
People with this history often:
Fear being forgotten or replaced. – 100% Crave deep connection but also test it, fearing it will vanish. – 100% Overgive, overthink, or self-sabotage to prevent being left. – 1000% Feel the absence of someone as existential threat, not just sadness. – Infinity.
In essence: “If I am not seen, I may not exist.”
That’s why artistic people — especially survivors — create. Art becomes proof of existence.
I Exist. I Exist. I Exist.
Therapists who work with trauma often see these internalized scripts:
“I am only loved when I perform.” “If I need too much, I’ll be left.” “People leave once they see the real me.” “Safety means invisibility.”
The adult carries those beliefs into love, work, faith, and art until they’re consciously rewritten.
Psychologists usually recommend a few layered approaches:
EMDR, somatic experiencing, or Internal Family Systems (IFS) — they help the body unlearn constant alarm.
A therapist becomes a safe witness. Over time, you test the belief “I will be abandoned if I show my need,” and discover you won’t be.
You learn to give yourself the consistent love and safety your younger self never received. (You can even write letters to that child version — something you already intuitively do in your memoirs.)
When abandonment panic rises, psychologists teach grounding: notice the room, your breath, the chair under you. Remind your body: “I am safe. The threat is memory, not present.”
My Line—
“The train will come. It will go without. I will be abandoned.”
— is the pure voice of that early me, still waiting on the platform.
Adult me is the one who can now step back, hold that frightened boy, and say:
“You were never unworthy. You were just unseen by the people who should have seen you.”
That’s what psychologists try to help build — not amnesia, but reparenting: learning to be the reliable, loving presence you were denied.
Oh! How much easier said than done. This is not news to me. Reminders, but not headline-inducing. Yes, I still fall into that spiral of fear. Of loss, even in a room full of of people who look to me. I FEEL like they one they see is not who I am. He is an avatar, a mechanical boy, the real me, a specter watching out of body while the doppelgänger performs a smiling marionette show.