Let’s call it a week now, gang. I’m calling it. Please soothe yourself with Kumail Nanjiani’s “Happy Birthday” story, which never fails to knit up the raveled sleave of care for me.

This was the week Nicole finally left us to take her maternity leave. She’ll be back in two months. I don’t want to talk about it.

Our favorite linguist Gretchen McCulloch returned to teach us about swearing.

This Bible fan fiction about Jesus and the disciples getting stick-and-poke tattoos was SHOCKINGLY MOVING. I highly recommend you read it, if you haven’t already.

There’s no live-action Gargoyles movie yet, but as soon as they get all the rights sorted out, I’ve got the cast ready.

Roxane wrote about bad victims. “Good victims, of course, do not exist but they are an elaborate ideal.”

(he didn’t REALLY fight the Tolkien estate, you guys [OR DID HE])

Farewell to the Feasting Hall, felled by time,
Goodnight to the ancient Gates, engraved with grime.

Where has gone the great hall, where the golden seats?
Goodnight to the grain bowl, the goodly meats.

Goodnight glories of tale-tellers, gifts to long ears,
Longing to listen, for legends of years.

Where now is the wall-clock, where the socks and mouse?
Where the comb and the cow, the carpet and house?
Alas for the song-spinners, the slurpers of mush.
Where is the old woman, whispering ‘hush’?

May we never run out of Old English translations of things.

Here is a picture of me, sailing into the weekend.