Ditto

About the no time comment from yesterday, I mean.

Slightly more time today, but not much.

No time tomorrow because I'll be away from the desk all day.

No time on the weekend because I won't be near a computer.

Gee. Sounds like the pressure's on the Toronto office, doesn't it?

*evil grin*

----------

In other news, I like mustard.

Just thought I'd mention it, especially seeing that I haven't exactly had time to think of an actual topic. And when you haven't had time to think of a topic, why not pick the most pointless thing that's currently floating around your brain?

I do like mustard, though. Regular "prepared" mustard, dry mustard, deli-style mustard, honey mustard... it's all good. Dijon doesn't do a whole lot for me, but it'll work. Mustard in general is great. Even on a salad. The right kind of salad, but that should go without saying. Maybe a spinach salad. Yeah, that'd do. And don't knock it till you've tried it, people. Is it any worse than calling Miracle Whip a salad dressing?

This, by the way, is all I've got. I need to get ready for the next program now, so I'm leaving you with nothing but happy mustard thoughts.

May your squeeze-bottle never crust.





See you in a few days.

I HAVE NO TIME TO BLOG

Photo:

Drama

It's been a busy day. I'm late to the blog.

Good thing nobody sets a watch by this thing, I guess.

----------

Now, topic. The pointless photo doesn't have much to do with it, unless ladybird porn can be considered drama. Maybe it is in the beetle world. You never know.

Last night I was watching (for the umpteenth time) A Soldier's Story. I don't usually watch movies in the middle of the week, but when I saw it listed I just had to tune in. No choice -- it's a film I almost always end up watching whenever it's on. Kind of like The Great Escape.

Oh, wait. Let me restate that. A Soldier's Story is NOT like The Great Escape. They're just both movies I get sucked into viewing.

In the case of A Soldier's Story, I end up watching because A Soldier's Play, the basis for the movie, is one of my favourites. It's sort of odd to say that, seeing that I've never had the pleasure of watching a production, but it's a favourite all the same.

Yeah, I'm one of those horrifically nerdy type who enjoys reading plays. I even liked reading plays in school, which just lets you know that I'm not hooked up right.

And shut up, world. I know that you already know that I'm not hooked up right.

I like plays. I like to read plays, I like to watch plays, and in my day I liked to be in plays. It's been a while now and I think it would be a trick to get my nerve back, but I think if I managed that I wouldn't mind being in plays even now.

The problem is that there aren't many plays put on by our local amateur dramatic groups that I'd be particularly interested in being involved with. I mean, I like musicals and light comedies as much as the next person (probably more than some of the next people, admittedly), but doesn't a person need a bit more variety than that? There's only so much dinner theatre the brain can handle.

There's also the part where I'm not the most talented actress in the world... but work with me here.

You may have to work with me here to finish this post. I really should be getting back to work.

The short version of what I was going to try to get around to saying is that I find plays fascinating when they give my mind something to play with. A good play to me is the type of thing that keeps reappearing in my head because it's shown me a viewpoint that I hadn't considered before. A good play changes the view.

Or it can, if you want it to.

I wish I had time to frame my thoughts more properly on this. Communication isn't my strong suit at this time of the day.

Ah well. Maybe I'll just leave it for now and add it to the list of Things I'll Probably Forget To Come Back To. It's a long list.

A really long list.





Can I go home yet?

Pointless photo of the day:

Sorry, not in a blathery mood today. You'll have to make do with the picture:

Photo

I'm too lazy to type pointless photo today, so just plain photo it is.

Go on, read it again. I can wait until everyone's done scratching their heads over the logic of that last statement.

Now I'll go on to say that I'm not posting today. Not at length, anyway.



I will say, though, as a completely tangential thought that will appear to come out of nowhere, that if you've ever questioned how dangerous downed powerlines really are... a) you're not terribly smart, and b) you haven't seen the incredible scorch marks on my father's poplars and lilacs.

I probably should have taken photos.

They wouldn't have been pointless photos.

I guess it's a good thing I didn't bother, then. I don't know what to do with non-pointless photos.

And he walks with me and he talks with me ...

.... no, no, no, not the hymn, silly people; the snail the camera failed to capture. Well, okay, so one cannot blame an inanimate object for one's own failings. Well I could .... okay, and have ....

As you gathered, I meant to plunk the snail's shell with all those pretty striations off to the side to make the photo slightly imperfect which is a new hobby - but plain and simple, I goofed. Goofed at making it imperfect yes.

What you get instead: Columbine. These are supposed to be found in woodlands, meadows, that sort of thing and apparently also in my backyard. In abundance.


As to today: well it's misting as opposed to out-and-out raining. I prefer a good solid rain as it matches my personality; my comfort level of feeling all cozy and cocooned on the couch, under a throw whilst reading the morning paper and having that first dose of jet fuel by intravenous. Of course, I also have been known to settle on said couch just to mock the rest of the world who must go out in all sorts of weather.


Enjoy the pretty flowers. You could have gotten a photo of the pups in their new plastic baby pool instead you know. Yep, Mr. Turtle® bit the dust; or rather, Duchess dug at the plug on the side of Mr. Turtle.


I'm not even going to take this opportunity to whine about having to walk two dogs through the muck that is still springtime in the woods and park. Nope, not me. No whining here.

*sigh*

The way I see it

Myopically.

Oh, and astigmatically.

The end.

----------

Yeah, I'm kidding. About the end part, not the other stuff.

I talked a bit (ok, more than a bit) on the old blog about my beliefs in regards to vision. More specifically, I rambled on about how, in my opinion, our physical vision shapes our... well, let's say metaphysical vision.

Don't worry. This isn't going to be one of those posts that ends up getting labelled pseudophilosophy. Erm, that is, it'll probably be labelled that now just because I brought the word up (and yes, spellcheck, I know it's not a real word. I only use it because it's faster than typing half-assed philosophy, which is what most of my philosophy qualifies as), but I'm not in the mood to type a lengthy rant about nothing in particular at the moment. We'll save that for another day.

The short form is that the way I see the world is, in large part, because of the way I see the world. If you're not following, don't panic (not that I thought you would. It's just that I missed Towel Day so I had to fit in a belated reference somehow). The whole vision thing is something that gets tossed around in my head quite a lot, so it'll show up here more often than you'd really want it to anyway.

And speaking of anyway, this was all just a roundabout way of saying that I think today's pointless photo is pretty cool for a whole bunch of reasons. I'm not going to tell you what reasons. You'll have to choose your own.

Yours will be different. They have to be. There's no possible way that you see what I see.

And, of course, I don't see what you do.

I like that.






I'm off to take some pointless macros now. I may possibly even break out the tripod so that they look a little more like abstracts and a little less like random insanity.

Shocking thought, isn't it?

Have a good Saturday.

A TULIP

A tulip in protest, I guess. The snow's mostly gone now, though, just like I said it would be.

I don't have a lot to say at the moment. My neck (yeah, I called that one yesterday too) is to the point of the day where gravity's taking its toll. For anyone who's never had neck problems, it's very possible to start out a morning feeling nothing more than a bit twinge-y but then find yourself getting sorer and sorer throughout the day as things compress and the muscles overreact.

Ah yes. One more thing to add to the pain list.

Speaking of the pain list, if any of my comments make the local paper (interview comments, I should say. Not blog comments. I don't think the local paper covers my blog. Well, it might if you unfolded the whole thing and spread it out...) I just want everyone to be proud of me for not once using the word SEPTIC. And no, I'm not going to explain that. Those who know, know.

Anyway. I'm keeping this short and heading for the acetaminophen. I'd sooner be heading for something a bit stronger, but apparently they expect me to be functional at work.




Who knew?

I could say lots of things here

I think I'll just restrict myself to saying that trees aren't happy to be snowed on when they have all of their leaves.

Snow, yes.

Thick, heavy, perfect-for-snowmen snow.

At the end of May.

These photos were taken... oh, about fifteen minutes ago. They're hot off the camera (hot? Ha.) and completely unedited. I was going to take a little walk into the Sanctuary to show you the paths with the trees all bent over like some sort of bizarre archway, but it's raining now and I didn't want to get the camera wet.

Now, normally you'd expect me to get all in a snit about weather like this. After all, I'm not a huge fan of snow (bet you hadn't noticed). The fact is, though, that this snow will be gone tomorrow. It might be gone today, now that the rain has started.

It's just too bad that it had to do so much damage while it was here, that's all. It's not just the trees, either. A lot of our native fruit-bearing bushes were in full flower, and this little mess will probably tank the berry crop this year. Not so good for berry-pickers, but even worse for the wildlife that depends on the fruit.

Ah well. Things will work out one way or another. Nature's interesting that way.

Notice how I haven't made mention of the people who are without electricity or the amount of personal property that's likely to have been hit hard by the snow? Yes, I have my priorities.

----------

I don't have much else on the brain at the moment, except for a minor whinge and a word of advice. Advice first:

If you try out a new therapy ball for your wrist pain, don't assume it's not doing much of anything until you're sure you can move the next day.

Yeah.

SOMEbody overdid it a bit with a gyroscopic thingy that's supposed to improve wrist strength. Now SOMEbody is sore all the way up to her neck. Silly SOMEbody.

Let's hope that SOMEbody doesn't manage to put her neck out by sleeping crooked on those sore muscles tonight. Wrecking a neck because of a wrist, eh?

That'd be funny.





In a painful sort of way.

Before the weather report from the Alberta office

Isn't this pretty? When you look closer at the right side of the plant, you will indeed see the outline of the cactus part of this Spring Cactus for which I'm certain the OLF would have an official scientific name.

And this plant came from that overwhelmingly annoying yet financially successful conglomerate currently taking over the world. Who'd a thought.

Come to think of it, I wonder if its flowers go back into tiny budlettes (is so a word) at night because it's embarrassed about its origins.

I just know the following information will keep you on the edge of your collective seats: I have been informed that there is a tree up the road which is presently being devoured by caterpillars; that is
the leaf-munching kind not the earth-moving kind.

Of course photos need to be taken of this. Oh, they do so.

Enjoy the plant. Especially she who has tales to tell ... if her computer works later on.

Another tulip

Anyone tired of tulips yet? I hope not. I have more.

What I don't have is any idea of what to type here today. Yesterday was a write-off because I couldn't make my brain work, but I don't have that excuse just now (read that as: I took a pill last night. Early. Was asleep by about 9:30 pm. Still managed to wake up at 3 am, but at least I was artificially groggy enough to convince myself to go back to sleep until 6 am...). Having no excuse still doesn't give me a topic, though.

Hmmm.

All right, how about this. Several people in the last few days have asked me how I like having the office to myself. My usual answer is that it's ok.

What I don't say is that it's ok when I don't have the office to myself, too.






I guess I'm easy to get along with? Or good at accepting the status quo, maybe. Either way, being alone in the office is fine, but so is sharing the office. It's still a bit hard for me to think of this as my office anyway, since it was sort of an accident that I ended up here in the first place. I was fine using a desk in the workshop, but a number of circumstances combined (yeees, I'm being cagily diplomatic here) years ago to make it convenient for me to set up shop in what is, for the most part, Wheat's office.

Maybe we should be asking him what he thinks of sharing an office. Oh, right. He's not here. Then he doesn't get a vote, does he?

My desk is kind of a weird mix of mine and not mine at the best of times, so I suppose it's fitting that I'm in an office that's mine and not mine. My desk holds my own personal reference materials and files, yes, but it also has a whack of other stuff that's just here so it has a place to be. Stationery supplies, information for the programmers, dead animals...

That particular aspect is a bit odd, I know, but I do work at a nature centre, after all. There's a fair amount of a bit odd around here. It's only natural that some of it should overflow onto my desk.

My desk has a lot of toys, too.

No one to blame for that part but myself.

Anyway. I've completely lost the thread here, so that's as good a reason as any to stop typing. With luck we'll be able to talk about the joys of good tailoring tomorrow.

Don't worry. At least part of my two fans know what I'm on about there. The rest of you will know tomorrow, if I'm still in the mood.








Erm, go away now.

A tulip

Or tupil, which is what I originally typed.

I'm really really tired right now. Keeping up with the long tradition of the Suckage of the Long Weekend, my brain decided that it wanted to see if three in the morning is much different from three in the afternoon.

Yay brain.

I'm seriously thinking of taking some lieu time and skipping out a little early today. At the moment I'm not doing much more than taking up space anyway.

Come to think of it, that's exactly what I'm doing on the blog as well.

Yay me.

Posting now.

Okay, this time I have the headache ....

... and far too many captions running around in this head with too little space to type. Well what I mean of course is typing them here on the page, not in my head ... but you knew that.

You did know that's what I meant.

Of course you knew that.


So OLF likes tulips, hence a tulip she shall get. Sadly this one is a bit of an exhibitionist and has come out with her pistil up.

Oh, man, do I have a headache and oh, man is it time to stop typing. So I will.

Right now.

Erm.... right now .....


Now ......


When you click on this photo, I dare you not to share in the illusion of a spider on its back, little leggies appearing to be flailing. And heck failing that, you can just enjoy what appears to be a flower with a mirror image of itself.

Okay, now I stop.

La la la

The music's playing, the laundry's folded, my hair's in its usual silly weekend pony tail (although this time it's a LONG weekend pony tail. That means even less care taken than usual, in case you wondered), and I seem to have been very wordy in the past few days so this time I'm not even going to bother thinking about what I'm typing.

Yep, this should be brief. It likely won't be, but really it should be.

I will, however, tell you a little bit about today's pointless flower. Oh, before I go into full-on blather mode, I should say that the theme of the week will probably be flowers just because there are a few out at the moment so that's what I took pictures of.

Today's pointless flower is known as Golden Bean or Buffalo Bean (Thermopsis rhombifolia, for anyone who wants to look it up). It's one of the earlier wildflowers around here, and is usually found in pastureland or in dry areas along the highways. It's probably poisonous, but then most members of its family are so that's not terribly surprising.

This is one of those plants that has a very strong childhood association for me. I'm not going into detail about it because I'm not in the mood (did I mention music, pony tail, et cetera, et cetera?), but I've picked many, many bouquets of Buffalo Bean to proudly present to various grandmothers or mothers (ok, just the one mother) over the years. Buffalo Beans don't make terribly good bouquets, but since when is a child bothered by practicalities like that?

Buffalo beans are a big part of my seasonal continuity. They're something I keep an eye out for, like the return of the tree swallows in the spring or the ripening of the saskatoons in summer. It's a thing that's hard to explain to a city dweller, I suppose, but even in the modern day I think there's still a part of a townie's brain that measures the seasons by something other than an arbitrary calendar.

At least I hope there is. That's the way I grew up, anyway.

We'll end with a bonus photo, since I'll be away from the computer tomorrow. It's a very pretty (if somewhat the worse for wear after the last rainstorm) violet AND A SPIDER!

Yay spiders.

And shut up, world. There's nothing wrong with taking pleasure in watching a flower decorate itself with a spider. Just think of it as a brooch or something.

Yes, I know I'm a freak. It makes me happy. Makes the blog slightly more interesting too, if you ask me.

That's it for now, then. See you... the day after tomorrow, I guess. Happy Victoria Day.

Lost in translation

The pointless photo is completely pointless today. Not even a shred of hidden meaning. I do like drawing tulips, though, because of their nice strong lines. Gives a person lots of scope to play with shape and shading.

When a person actually has time to do that, which lately... not so much.

----------

This is going to sound kind of silly since I just said I haven't even had time to doodle, but I'm going to say it anyway. Besides, there's time and then there's time.

When I've had an hour or two to spare these last few weekends, I've found myself watching QI on... well, you know. The home of all things in plagiarised video. Not my first choice, really, but until they manage to come up with a Region 1 DVD package it'll have to do.

I'm expecting the Region 1 DVDs at about the same time as the pigs start flying, unfortunately.

It's a shame, really, because it's a fantastic show. Not very well known on this side of the pond (which would figure, since it's never been shown here as far as I know), but it should be. It's informative, it's ridiculous, and it's incredibly entertaining.

And it would never have worked in North America.

Imagine someone going to an American network and suggesting a game show that consisted largely of a few obscure facts that the resident celebrities would be expected to talk into completely unexpected (and occasionally very odd) directions. That's it. A few questions, a lot of talking, and some personalities.

Boring, right? Where are the flashy effects and the million dollar prizes? Where are the suckers contestants that the audience at home can empathise with or at least make fun of? This thing is supposed to exist solely on talking heads? It'll never fly.

Yep. That's what comes of underestimating your audience. Or, maybe, your audience underestimating what they should be getting from you.

I'm not going to make the clichéd claim that British audiences are more intelligent than North American ones, because I honestly don't think that it's true. I also don't believe that the American entertainment scene doesn't have the interesting personalities necessary to carry a show like QI, although I do think it's true that England as a whole is quicker to embrace eccentric characters than we'll ever be.

So why is it that I'm constantly disappointed in British show ideas that jump the ocean and are recostumed as All-American?

It could be because I'm Canadian, I suppose.

It could also be that I'm an admitted Anglophile.

I think it's more because I find the changes that are made to be fairly puzzling, however.

It's like the American networks are so afraid that their target audiences won't get it that any subtleties end up pounded into submission in favour of predictability.

Sometimes it's not even just the subtleties that get mangled in translation. Does anyone out there remember Amanda's? It would surprise me if you did. Amanda's was an attempt at an American version of Fawlty Towers in which Basil Fawlty was more or less removed. Gotta love that logic. Americans might find the main character too nasty or too hard to take, so we'd better make him (her, in the case of Amanda's) more audience-friendly. In other words, in order for Fawlty Towers (which, by the way, has many absolutely rabid fans in North America, although I can't say I'm one of them) to work in the United States, they thought they needed to completely get rid of the whole point of the show.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

It also makes me wonder if show ideas that travel the opposite direction get so badly screwed over.

Now, of course not everything that's borrowed by Americans from British television translates so awfully. I hear that many of the "reality" shows make it over with very few changes, although I don't go in for that particular genre so I couldn't actually say. I have to admit as well that I've never seen the American version of The Office, which I understand is very good. So obviously not every show is doomed the moment it's noticed by an American network.

So here it is. For any of my two fans who are actually familiar with QI (and yes, I'd probably faint from the shock of finding out that you are), do you think that, with a competent production staff and sympathetic network, it would even have a chance at American success? Or would we be stuck with another Drew Carey beating the Whose Line Is It Anyway? franchise into the ground (erm, not a fan. Sorry to anyone who was)?

Ah well. Either way it's not likely to happen. I guess I'll just have to content myself with enjoying the hell out of the pirated videos while they're still around. Oh, and encouraging you to go check them out as well.

But you didn't hear that from me.

Urgh

I didn't pack a lunch today. I usually do, but I just couldn't make myself manage it this morning. It happens occasionally -- that moment of ugh when you open the fridge and look at the lunch things. Couldn't face the routine one more day, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid? What? Why should I be scared?

Well, maybe because not packing a lunch meant the alternative was the completely unheartfriendly lump of grease that's currently making its home in my digestive system. Urgh, indeed.

I'm not sure how people do that every day, to be honest.

----------

In other news, I hate my phone. Well, not my phone per se. I dropped my land line a while ago, and the nice thing about living only by cell is that you can turn a cell off whenever you feel like it.

Yes, I know you can unplug a land line if you're that desperate to not be in touch. Hitting the off button on a cell phone is way more convenient.

No, the phone I hate is the one whose message light (which probably came on while I was away buying fried nausea) is currently reminding me that people for some reason feel like they need to talk to me.

I hate that.

Especially because they seem to need to talk to me about things that I don't have answers for.

I'm spending way too much time on the phone these days. You see, I'm gabbing for two at the moment. There's the non-answerable questions that come through on my own desk phone, and then there's the non-answerable questions that come through on the other guy's phone.

The one across the room from me, yes.

You just had to know that he wouldn't remember to forward it or anything. That'd be far too easy for me.





And it's alllll about me, remember.

So why haven't I forwarded it myself? Well... I'd just be forwarding it to myself. And that would make me cry.



At least when it's his phone ringing I can still have that one self-deluding second of pretending I can ignore it.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I'd say shut up, world here, but it doesn't seem to work when I yell it at the phone so maybe I just won't even bother.

That's probably the most polite thing I yell at the phone, actually.




I really hate that phone.

Gah. Here we go again. Catch you all later.









And not by phone.

Later that same day...

I'm taking a whinge break.

Whinge, yes.

You've been warned.

----------

It's not fun walking with a limp, in case you've wondered. It throws your gait off, and anything that does that is going to cause more problems. And more problems.

And more pain.

Pain. Ah, pain. I haven't whined about pain for a little while now. I have pain every day, you know. I haven't been able to walk without pain since I was in junior high school. I've said before (probably on the old blog) that I'm largely able to deal with it, but it's still there. Every damned day. Some days are better than others, but there's no such thing as a day without pain.

Having pain every day gets old in a hurry. It's like constantly hearing your neighbour's stereo through a thin apartment wall (that gets old in a hurry too. Just ask the voice of experience). Sure, the music itself might not be too irritating, but the fact that you can't do anything about it besides banging on the wall is enormously frustrating.

Unfortunately for me, I'm not likely to wake up one morning and find that my pain has found itself another apartment.

I'm stuck with this, and on my worst days (note that I say on my worst days. I'm not like that all the time, thank god) I start to feel like life is nothing but pain. And despite what some movies will tell you, life is most decidedly not pain. Or at least it shouldn't be.

And no, I'm not selling something.

I'm just in pain, that's all.

As usual.

----------

On a lighter note, I was group-groped by Grade One students today. They were a very... physical class, and I'm a very short person. The combination makes boob-height just a leetle too convenient for some of the grabbier kids.

Don't worry, though. I most decidedly didn't enjoy it.





My job is weird. Have you ever noticed that?

Pointless photo of the day:

I've been busy.

Bet you hadn't guessed.

I'm still busy.

I have no topic today.

Bet you hadn't guessed.

Bye.

I've Got Nothing too ... also ... as well

But as long as we're just tossing up photos we like, here's another.

Yeh, yeh. I know.

Your heart just bleeds.


~insert your eye-rolling gesture here~

A whole big lot of I've Got Nothing

The title says it all, really.

Photo:

Pointless thought of the day:

What would you do if you found out that your life had a definite expiration date?

I should explain, shouldn't I? I'd hate to have my two fans thinking that I know my own expiration date.

I had to buy some crickets for the animals (real animals, not coworkers) here at work today. Packaged crickets from the pet store have a best before date on them. That's got to be a real sucks to be you situation right there, don't you think?

Apparently the crickets I bought are now happy enough in the cricket jar that they're favouring us with a few musical numbers. They'd better be careful about that, though. It doesn't take too much cricket opera before their best before date gets bumped up a little bit...

----------

Today's pointless ladybird photo is funny to me because of its accidental guest star. I swear -- I really mean it, too -- that I did not notice the spider to the right when I took the shot.

Bonus spider.

Cool.

The return of...

Should this pointless photo have come with a warning?

Yes, with spring comes the return of insect pornography. Two-spot ladybird beetles, in this case. I guess I should have given them a bit more privacy, but they didn't seem to mind at all.

Notice how the male is smaller than the female? Little ladybirds stay little, you know. They don't magically turn into big ladybirds. Even if they wish really, really hard.

There will probably be a few ladybirds on the blog this week since that's what was out there when I was taking pictures yesterday. It's still early season for a lot of the other creepy crawlies, so ladybirds it is.

It's still a lot better than taking pictures of snow, though.

Notice how these are two-spot ladybirds (which are all right) instead of seven-spot ladybirds (which are evil)? I'd be ashamed to tell you how hard I had to look to find them.

----------

I'm feeling a bit tarted up at the moment, which is kind of a weird thing on the weekend. You see, normally I don't bother with much more than eyeliner on my days off (if I even bother to bother with that), but since I have to go into work for a few hours later today I thought I'd better put on the face. It feels odd to be wearing lipstick in my father's basement.

The scary thing is, for all the effort of actually putting on makeup I'd be willing to bet that NOBODY WILL EVEN NOTICE.

So why bother?

Well, I don't know. Something about societal pressure, I suppose. Just like I'd never dare to wear shorts in my current sasquatch-like state (I suppose I should get to ripping out the forest sometime this week, since the weather's been behaving), I'd feel kind of weird being seen in front of a group at work without a bit of makeup. Less than professional, somehow. That in itself is weird considering that I don't exactly plaster things on with a trowel in the first place.

Like I said, you probably wouldn't even notice the difference. And yet I do it anyway.

Weird.

----------

I'll end on a quick note to someone who knows what this is about. The rest of you can look away if you like:

No, you don't stop missing them. You just accept it a little more as time passes. It does get better, honestly.






That's weird, too.

So, here's the conundrum

As I said yesterday, I've been busy. Busy equals not much time to blog.

However, it's now the weekend. Even though I'm only getting part of one this time around, I still have to admit I'm not especially busy. I'm doing laundry, as usual, but since I don't have to beat it on a rock it doesn't make me busy.

However (yeah, it's going to be a however kind of post), it's... now the weekend. A gorgeous Saturday. I'm not sure I even want to bother to blog.

And before I go any further with what may or may not turn out to be a blog post, let me address the pointless photo (not THAT kind of address, no. And shut up, world) and state for the record that I have no idea whether my father really thinks a person can grow gold. Where do you suppose he managed to find gold seeds, anyway?

Ok, so it's really Yukon Gold potatoes. Still, it was funny. Oh, come on -- you have to admit that it was at least a tiny bit amusing.

Now, topic.






I don't have one.

All right, all right, let's do this then. The other day I was reading a paper in the Canadian Field-Naturalist about tardigrades (yes, I know I'm a nerd). Tardigrades are pretty bizarre and fascinating creatures, but the paper I was reading had more to do with the harvesting and identification of tardigrades than their biology.

I could make this long and rambling, but... weekend, remember? The gist is that there are lots of tardigrades out there. Lots and lots. There are tardigrades that we don't even know about yet. There's a pretty good chance that you've walked over entire populations of tardigrades and never knew it.

They're out there, and out there whether we realise it or not. There are worlds of living beings out there that we are completely oblivious to.

Well, almost oblivious to.

Obviously, if we were completely oblivious to tardigrades I wouldn't be talking about them right now.

It kind of makes a person (ok, THIS person) wonder what else might be out there that we haven't bothered to notice yet. We're such an arrogant species, Homo sapiens. We think of ourselves as the collective cock of the walk, but we conveniently forget that on the micro (and, more than likely, macro) scale we're barely even noticed.

I think that's cool. You should too.

Or, since I've gone that route without actually meaning to, let's go all in and do the Shakespeare thing. Hamlet Act 1 Scene V, anyone?

I can wait.





All right. Free pass today, then, since I don't expect all of my two fans to be nerdy to my level. Here's where I was headed:

HORATIO
O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

HAMLET
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

And a good thing, too. Can you imagine how boring the world would be if there weren't?




I'm off to enjoy Saturday now.

[/disjointed nonsense]

And just when you thought it was all for naught

Here I am, actually sitting at my desk. Not only sitting at my desk, but sitting here for long enough to make it worthwhile to turn the music on. For the first time all week. Shall we say I've been busy, boys and girls? Yes, I think we shall.

That's not the reason for the post title, though. Nope, the it of the title wouldn't be the lack of blog content lately. The it would be the hours I spend on pointless photography.

The irony, of course, is that the one time I actually intended to say something of interest about pointless photography the photo thingy is refusing to behave for me. So there you go. A photography post without any photography.

So, is anybody curious as to what I haven't quite managed to get to yet?






Is anybody noticing that the blather has returned in an exceedingly blathery way?

Well, I've been busy.




Did I already mention that?

Sorry, what were we discussing, again?

Oh, right. Pointless photos. Well, here's your pointless photography update. Through a very roundabout process one of my pointless photos came to the attention of someone who likes bugs. Er, beetles. Ok, lots of different creepy crawlies. And it's not, I suppose, so unusual that one of my photos might come to the attention of a bugman, seeing that I spend so much time chasing insects and spiders around with the camera for no apparent reason.

Anyway, to make some sort of sense out of this story (and keep it from becoming a pointless novel), let me just say that as a result of said bugman's interest I now officially have my first ever published photo credit. In an actual book and everything.

This would be akin to my finding out that I'd just won a Pulitzer for my (highly entertaining...) Friday memos to the weekend staff.

Hmmm. Add writing the Friday memo to my list of things that still need to get done this afternoon. Ah well. At least I can cross feed the snakes off. And in case you wondered, the pinkies were apparently extra delicious today.

Back to photos. The photo in question is nothing more than the usual snapshot, so don't expect that I'm going to get all uppity about my (lack of) talent, go out and buy some expensive equipment, and give up on all this supposed pointlessness. Pointlessness is way too much fun.

Besides, even a pointless photographer has to get lucky once in a while.

This would all be so much more impressive if my name hadn't been spelled wrong on the credits page. Yeah, that'd be a genuine chuckle you should imagine you're hearing right about now.

Anyway, just thought I'd share the news. The news is all I'm getting out of this whole thing, by the way. I didn't ask for anything else, really, so spreading the news'll have to be a reward in itself.

Let me try a photo again, just to say I did...

Oh, here we go. And I've made it extra pointless to celebrate the occasion. Call it my first on-camera spring spider.

Call it that because that's what it was.

A spider.

A very small spider.

That I wasted time trying to convince an autofocus camera to take a picture of.

Ah, pointlessness. How I love thee.

Pointless squirrel photo and no time for anything else of the day:

Pointless quick random something whatever

Sinus headache, can't breathe, half a sunburn from yesterday (yes, half a sunburn. Believe me, it's possible if you try really really hard), and another program in fifteen minutes.

June third is looking more attractive already.

And shut up, those of you who know what that means.

There are wine gums on my desk, though. Wine gums that I didn't buy, which makes them even wine gummier.

The bus is apparently here. Early. Guess I'm done posting then.






sigh

Oddities out there in the world ... Part One

You didn't realize this is a blog where things are cross-referenced, did you. You see back in April I mused that there must be oddities out there that needed documenting .... or documentating as my fingers first spelled that.

While we can debate the definition of "needed", for the time being I still have the password to get in here and, well, there's today's photo.

At a risk of sounding not politically correct my view of this upside-down sign is that some folks have enough of a challenge in life without having to figure out if they should park the way the sign suggests. Of course this being Toronto, there are many who act as though this is the way to drive as well.


This is all causing me to take a look around at my surroundings when I leave the cocoon that is home, you know. In order to find these things "out there", one needs to go "out there". It's all very scary at times.

Anyone who knows me knows I enjoy and embrace my phobia of the real world. It gets in the way of experiencing certain things but I figure I can take up sky-diving, extreme sports or meeting new people at any point. And yes, those are all equally appealing to me.

Well okay, in reality, only one of those makes me quake.

Really quick pointless photo:

This was from Fish Moving Day. I like it because you can see fish, you can see the overhead power line, and you can see me. Well, the top of my head. And my camera.

Anyway, busy. Gotta go.

And I can't get Adam Sandler's red hooded sweatshirt song out of my head after a bit of channel flipping on the weekend. Thanks for that, television.

Might not be around tomorrow. Try to miss me.





Yes, I meant to say try to miss me.

Pointless squirrel photo of the day:

There will probably be a few of these in the next while. One of our local squirrels was tempted enough by the bird seed yesterday that it let me get within about a metre and a half for some portraiture.

It was kind of funny, actually. Red squirrels aren't like the grey squirrels that people in the east might be familiar with. They're not at all social. In fact, one of my university professors once admitted that he wasn't entirely sure how red squirrels ever get close enough to each other to manage to reproduce. They're extremely territorial and can have pretty vicious fights with each other when there's any kind of dispute about who belongs where.

Erm, and before I go any further: in regards to the mating problem, all I can say is that hormones are wonderful things. If you're into mating, that is.

Anyway, this particular squirrel was torn between wanting the free food and wanting to put a helluva lot more distance between it and the idiot with the camera. Food won, obviously, since this shot wasn't taken with a zoom. Any time I moved a little too quickly it was up on the trellis swearing at me, but it would only take a few seconds before it was back at the feeder chowing down.

I know a lot of people have a problem with letting squirrels rob their feeders, but I find it very entertaining. Besides, red squirrels are little wee things. They're not likely to eat you out of house and home. As long as there are food sources elsewhere they'll only hang around a bird feeder for a few minutes at a time and then find something else to eat. And the birds always come back after the squirrel's gone, folks. Like I said above, it's not like the grey squirrels who will move in and take over the neighbourhood to the exclusion of everything else that would have wanted to be there. There's no such thing as a colony of red squirrels.

They'd kill each other.





Honestly, I probably like red squirrels for their general obnoxiousness more than anything. They're cranky.

Remind you of anyone?

Anyway, that'll do it for me today. Nothing earth-shattering on the brain, and I have other things to do. I did manage to get a few interesting (read: odd) pointless photos yesterday, so maybe the blog won't be quite as boring as it's been in the past little while.

Maybe.

Big maybe.




Going now.

Pointless photo of the day, quick version:

Things to do blahdiblahdiblah.

Back later, maybe, if there's anything out there today worth taking pictures of. Kind of at the bottom of the nerdstick barrel at the moment.

In the meantime, since my father's declared that it's Fish Moving Day (I think he's a bit early, but they're his fish and his problem), here's a few pre-move fish for you to enjoy.

Or whatever.

Go have a Saturday.

Wet

The day, that is. Not me.

I was wet yesterday, though.

That's what happens when you go out in the rain.

The pointless photo, by the way, is definitely not recent. It's a bit early in the year for daylilies. The picture's only here because it was one of two on my nerdstick that had a title starting with the word wet.

Anyway, it's wet out there.

Tends to be wet when it's raining.






It's really wet out there, did I mention? Wet to the point where parts of the Sanctuary are flooding. That's not a problem, if anyone was wondering. It's a problem if our skylights at the nature centre start leaking, but so far so good on that count.

I can't say I mind the rain. There's the whole gee-I-can-breathe-now factor, of course, but I like rain on the whole anyway. And for those of you thinking "rain on the whole WHAT?"... well, hush. I like the sound of rain. I like the way it looks. I like being out in the rain, just as long as I'm not getting too cold.

Cold creates its own set of problems, you'll remember.

I know there are people out there rolling their eyes about now, wondering how someone could like rain that much. I'll admit, it probably has a lot to do with the fact that I live in a place that doesn't usually get prolonged rainy spells. Here, when it rains you know that it'll be done reasonably soon. I'm not saying I live in the Great Canadian Desert, but it's more likely to be dry here than wet at any given time.

Of course, I've kind of been a fan of wet even when I've visited places where wet isn't a novelty.

I remember being in Hawaii and marvelling at the way that it rained every day but the rain never seemed to put a halt to anything. And the rain was warm. Warm rain. Now there's something a kid from Alberta doesn't get a chance to feel very often. I even caught myself looking forward to the daily mid-afternoon rain shower. I'm not sure what my family thought about that part, but hey. It made me happy.

Even just the rhythm of rain does something for me. I've talked before (searchable on the old blog, if anyone's desperately curious) about sitting in one of the wings of the family tent trailer as a child and falling asleep to the sound of rain hitting the canvas. I'm back there instantly anytime I hear rain on fabric.

Yeah, I approve of rain.

Well, I suppose that the rain and I had better get back to work. Ok, maybe just me. The rain will do whatever it does without me telling it to.




It's wet out there.

I think I'd better go for a walk in the rain this afternoon just to see if it's wet enough...

Blah

Me, yes. Not the crocus.

I've been up since 4:30 am, which I suppose is fair enough when a person goes to bed at 9 pm the night before. I was more or less done for the day, so I decided to end the day. Slept, too.

Woke up at 4:30.

I feel like it should be time to go home already.

The day is also blah, if anyone was wondering. Foggy this morning; thinking about raining now. Tonight they're apparently predicting a hurricane, which ought to be interesting considering that we're not exactly on the coast here.

Kidding about the hurricane, yes. But it is supposed to be rainy. And windy.

I can live with rain. This time of year, rain means that I get a bit of breathing room. Literally. It takes the trees a little while to get back on the pollen train after a good downpour.

Is it sounding like my life revolves around tree pollen? It does, in early spring. Or late spring, seeing how this spring has been a little fuddled.




Yeah, you can put whatever word you want in there for fuddled. You know what I was thinking when I typed it. Or you should.

Ok, the brain and the backspace key (which just helpfully got rid of a couple of paragraphs of whinge for me) are both saying that this post is turning into even more of a big pile of nothing than it started out to be. Good enough, then. Best go with that feeling before I develop a second (whiny) wind.

Hitting publish... now.

Cranky

Head hurts. Knee hurts. Back hurts, because knee is making it impossible to sit properly in this chair.

However.

Wheat actually brought wine gums, and if the stars are properly aligned Pika will be bringing some as well. She's pretty far behind in her wine gummage, you know.

It's also been raining, which means there's a slight possibility that I might be able to breathe when I go to bed tonight.

However.

My hair is loose today because it was still wet when I left for work. IT'S DRIVING ME BATS.

The end.




Oh, photo:

What I really wanted to write yesterday:

My knee hurts and it's making me cranky. Also, I'm allergic to poplar pollen.

And about today's pointless photo: I don't know either. Think of it as an abstract, I guess.

I'm honestly not sure what was up with yesterday. I don't know if you've noticed, but I occasionally tend to run unexpectedly off at the mouth. Er, fingers. Whatever. Either way, I certainly wasn't intending to do much more than post that tulip bud photo when I logged on.

Ah well.

I've been doing some work-related writing lately -- as much as you can call program scripting writing -- and that generally seems to produce two results with regards to the blog. Either I come on and post nothing but pictures and minimal comments for a week because I'm burned out, or I come on and blaaaaaaaaaaather.

Yesterday? The latter.

I've said on the old blog that one of the big reasons that I post darn near daily whether I have anything of consequence (or lack of same) to say is that I'm not really a natural writer. That is, I have the ability to write but I almost completely lack the drive to do it. I'm never going to pen the next big novel, because I can't be bothered to... bother.

So it seems kind of weird that I write at all, right?

The fact is that sometimes I have to. Sometimes I even want to. But since it's not an overwhelming urge for me to write, it's easy to let myself get out of practice. Communication (of any kind) only becomes easy if you keep the communication joints well lubed, as far as I can tell, and if I don't write regularly I find that it becomes really hard to write at all. Things get a little rusty.

Thus the blather.

Well, that's one of the reasons, anyway. There are others.





Anyway, today is one of the burned-out days. I've got nothing but a sore knee and a sinus headache. As opposed to all the answers, which is what I apparently had yesterday.

I think I'm going to have to talk to that particular voice about that at some point...