Pointless photo that has nothing to do with anything of the day:

The reason the photo has nothing to do with anything is that I haven't had time to get the camera out for a while so I'm just dipping into the Archive of Pointlessness.

Funny how you wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't said anything, isn't it? That's because it's all pointless all the time here in the wonderful world of pointless blather. The only difference is how recent the pointlessness tends to be.

And now for a pointless change of topic:

There's an awful lot of sex going on in my father's back yard lately. Bug sex, I mean. It must be the season or something, but when I went out to look around briefly last night it seemed like every second flower had some beetle or other getting it on. If they're still at it today when I'm out taking (pointless) photos I could easily turn this blog into the internet's new home of insect porn.

It'd make for some interesting search engine hits, if nothing else.

It would also give me something to talk about for a while. Sharp-eyed observers may have noticed the distinct lack of subject matter here lately. There are a few reasons for that, to be honest. I've been busy, I've been having trouble with my knee (still not great, thanks for asking), and I've also been in a slight snit about some things at work that I really don't want to discuss here. My two fans know by now that when I have something I don't want to discuss I either go off on lengthy inane rants about a totally different topic, or I clam up completely.

Guess which won this time?

It doesn't help that sleep hasn't been happening nearly as thoroughly as I'd like it to. Last night's problem? The neurotic dog. We had (yet) another thunderstorm last night, and after what seemed like an eternity of trying to keep her out of my bed, out from under my bed (this is a big dog, and she doesn't fit under my bed), and out from corners where she'd only cause property damage I finally booted her out of the room. Unfortunately for my father (and me. It's not like I went back to sleep after that annoyance) it only led her to try to bury herself first in the bathtub and then under a rug. I can't even describe the sound of a neurotic dog trying to bury herself in a bathtub, so I'm not going to try.

By the time she was "encouraged" to find a hiding place somewhere in the basement it wasn't like sleep was going to happen anytime soon, so I stayed up for a bit and enjoyed the storm. That was some pretty impressive lightning, boys and girls. Luckily there was nothing else involved except for about ten centimetres of rain this time. There've been twisters about lately, folks, and that's not something I particularly want to experience first-hand.

Considering how aimlessly convoluted this post has become it might be appropriate, but still.

I'm going now, ok?

*yawn*

I've been up since 4 am.

The problem with that (I mean, other than the obvious problem with that) is that I didn't go to bed until 1 am.

Yeah. Not doing so well with the whole "time off is supposed to be relaxing" concept.

All of this means that I really don't have enough functioning brain to even pretend to have a thought for the daily blather. Ah well. Enjoy the pointless photo, I guess.

Playing with the macro-Part oh-heaven-knows-what

Yes, this is all I have for today.

The humidity has taken the temperatures in Toronto to the 40-Plus mark for several days and frankly, I'm just zonked.

Shall I rant on again about mankind screwing up the environment and knowing this was coming?

I thought not. You're welcome. Enjoy the pretty picture.

Oh and the originating office should be careful about these things. I'm starting to cackle maniacally while learning to love playing with both depth of field and macro settings. Are we sure we want all these experiments out in public?

Some days you just don't want to read my mind

I have a few things I could say, but I've chosen to be adult enough not to.

Um... except in texts to the Toronto office. Sorry about that, Toronto office. It was either that or cut off a random finger.

Possibly one of mine; possibly someone else's.

So, here we (all of us, yes) sit with a buggered-up knee and no voice. Two very NOT desirable things when you're working at a nature centre. The knee... well, my two fans know all about that already. Old injury that gets unhappy from time to time. Yesterday? Very, very unhappy. You might have noticed.

The voice, though, is not an old injury. The voice disappeared somewhere over at the pond this morning. Pond study, reasonably high winds, and the remnants of a cold have all led to enforced whispering.

Not an easy thing for someone like me.

You see, I'm good at being loud. It's a combination of classical voice training growing up and a number of years of yelling at school children out on the path at work. I carry well. Very well. Too well, apparently, because on those days (like today) when I suddenly find myself unable to be heard I'm at a bit of a loss as to what I should do.

It's weird to not be able to get anyone's attention.

Maybe I should get a stick.






You know, that would kill two birds with one stone...

Erm, anyway. So here I sit. Quietly.

Part of the problem with being quiet is that it takes away one of my big defences. I've mentioned it a time or two, (maybe on the old blog? Well, you can go look it up there if you're curious, I suppose), but I'm a fairly shy person. Strange to be doing this particular job when you're shy, but then I think if you really looked at the people around you you'd find more shy people than you might realise at first.

Hmmm. I know I've said that before.

Carrying on, then.

Ha. Carry. I can't carry at the moment, did I tell you?

One of the ways I deal with being shy and still being involved with the public is through loudness. It's classic overcompensation. If I'm uncomfortable with where I am or what I'm doing, I get louder. And... more sarcastic. My sense of humour does tend to the snarkier side of life, I'll admit, and it gets more exaggerated when I'm trying to hide behind myself (and that, boys and girls, takes quite the series of contortions).

Being loud is kind of like a preemptive military strike, I suppose. Make yourself as noticeable as possible as quickly as you can, and maybe no one will see that you'd really rather crawl into a hole.

Now I have no choice but the hole, I guess.

Wheat came into the office a little while ago for something and I informed him (in a whisper) that my voice had left for the day. He whispered back. Isn't it funny how we all just naturally echo the way someone communicates with us? It's practically a reflex.

Anyway (and yes, I know that I already said anyway. And shut up, world. If I have to, you have to), I'm just thankful that I've officially finished (with what little voice I had left) my last school program of the season. It's been a busy year and a long one, and it's about time I had a few months off from that particular aspect of my working life.

Speaking (or typing. Can't talk. Did I mention?) of off, I will be for a couple of days. That means I won't be around a computer for at least tomorrow and maybe the next day. And that, in turn, puts the Toronto office back on blather call.

Poor Toronto office. First texts and now this. I'm so demanding when I'm in a snit.

...

Ok. The facts:

I'm in pain.

This doesn't make me happy.

I really need everyone to go away.

Failing that, I'll go away. In fact, that's probably easier.

I hate to sound like I'm in a snit (I'm not, really), but I sooo could have done without being on my feet all day today. By the end of my second program I was damn near in tears, and it makes it slightly hard to do my job when I'm spending that much energy just trying to keep from looking a blubbery mess in front of a group of children.

Incidentally, another thing that doesn't make me happy is the number of people who seem to think it's a good idea to book a program for the last few days of school. I can understand wanting to avoid being stuck in the classroom with a bunch of kids who are salivating for summer, but... go swimming. Play softball. Go to... I don't know, laser tag or something. Just don't use me as your babysitter, ok?

Maybe I'm in a teeny bit of a snit.

Anyway, I have a few things that I still need to get done before this work day is over and I can go stretch out on the bed for a while.

Maybe I'll just stay there.




That'd be good.

Erm... yeah.

Sorry. Got nothing.

Too late in the day to have anything anyway.

These things have a time and a place, you know. Once we've got past that window of opportunity known as lunch time... well, too bad.

Ok, seriously. I had nothing even at lunch time.

Is it all right with everyone if I just go?

Ok then.

.... and where did my week go anyhow

So never mind that I had to be prone to take this photo, with no waggling of the camera as I rested on elbows to take the shot. And never mind that passersby probably really do think of me as "oh, you know ... that crazy woman" in the park.

I'm used to it all.


"And do I even care what they think of me?", she called out.

Well, no, not so much. Isn't it a lovely thing to be this age, then.

Oh - and the only really important thing that's worth mentioning is that I got my hair trimmed yesterday. And isn't it a sad thing in a woman's world when a stylist does such a decent job that THAT matters enough to have it run through your mind the next day.



Maybe I should get a life. But I hear that's over-rated.

So I'm the blather-filler-inner then

I mean if you can believe an OLF, I'm supposed to be here doing this.

And yes folks, I bring to you the " If a tree falls in a forest...." query. Clearly you can see one did, albeit on the outside periphery of said treed area. I wonder if the other trees will miss it or if there were comments muttered about not much liking that one anyway ... oh wait. Only people are that petty.

Why, yes, I do prefer animals and pretty natural elements to most of the human race in the microcosm that is mine. And my microcosm is the one that counts obviously.

We had a wee bit of a storm the other night as you can see, with winds up to about 90 klicks ( those are metric "clicks" ) The black dog saw this as a challenge, to be climbed upon and investigated; the brown dog saw it as an inconvenience and an oddity that simply must be barked at, I'm presuming with the instinct that barking would make it go away.

Anyway, city workers being city workers, the tree is now chain-sawed and lying on the ground, off to the side of its main trunk. Any bets on how long it will take the city to actually move the thing? Nah, I wouldn't bet on it either.

Late post of the day:

Yes, I know I usually post on my lunch break. I had a short lunch break today because I had another program to get ready for.

This will also be short because I still have a memo to write.

Busy much?

Oh, and it was also imperative that I ate the last cupcake. Not that that has anything to do with anything, but it's another reason for the delay.

----------

Today marked the brief return of the Wandering Wheat. He stopped in for a while this morning to see if we all still loved him.... or maybe it was to get an idea of what he'll be up against next week when he's back on full time. Whatever.

I, of course, whined at him. I'm sort of in my petulant two-year-old stage just now, and I find I'm whinging about damned near everything. SOMEBODY needs a day or two off, I'm thinking.

Anyway, Wheat's back from what sounds like a very busy trip. I didn't get a chance to hear too much about it because I had (SURPRISE!) a program to get ready for, but I'm sure we'll get more than enough of a chance to talk things over later. It tends to happen when you share an office with someone. You know, the part where you do occasionally talk. If you have to.

Kidding, yes. Wheat and I talk more than occasionally. And, contrary to what might be popular opinion, I do want to hear what the whole thing was like. I may be a petulant two-year-old, but I'm not going to sit here and pout because the fellow who sits at the other desk now officially has the best stories.

I wouldn't pout anyway. There's not really a lot of jealousy involved, seeing that he just finished doing something that (as interesting as it probably was) I wouldn't do on a bet. Yeah, I admit it. I'm a little too insular.

But you love me anyway.

Right?





RIGHT?

Well, just for that I'm not going to post tomorrow. And maybe even the next day. So there. Nyah.






Ok, the fact is that I'm busy at an event for those two days and won't likely be near a computer. Talk to the Toronto office if you find yourself blather-deficient, I guess.

See you in a couple.

No time to post of the day:

I have no idea what this post is going to be about

I can tell you, however, that my hair is driving me nuts.

That's not terribly unusual. My hair generally drives me nuts.

Today the hair is driving me nuts because it's too clean. Clean is usually a good thing for my hair since fine hair doesn't do dirty very well, but today... gah.

The problem is that I should never shower in the morning.

For reasons that I refuse to go into on the blog because they may have you believing for a moment or two that I actually have a life, I didn't manage to have my usual evening shower last night. It was getting late, so I just washed my face and hit the bed instead of taking care of the day's grime.

I really hate going to bed dirty, though. I know that it's only because it's something I'm not used to, but going to bed without showering first just feels so, so, SO wrong. When you wake up the next morning with greasy hair and Eau du Pond Study, do you really have a chance of feeling halfway decent about the day that you're just getting started with? I don't think it's possible.

So anyway, I got out of bed a little earlier than normal and hopped into the shower in the morning instead. Oh, and before I go any further with this, I'd just like to say that knowing I had to be out of bed early enough to shower was not conducive to a good night's rest. You know how it is with Christmas morning when you're a kid? That feeling of is it time to get up yet that makes you wake up every half hour starting at about three in the morning? Yeah, well, translate that to I need to be up early enough to shower and you'll know for a fact that my brain spent most of the night playing Stupid Clock Tricks.

Bleah.

What this has all led to (besides crankiness) is hair that hasn't had its... erm... beauty sleep(?) and is thus misbehaving like you can't imagine. I'm sure it's wonderful to the touch and would be great if I were being petted like a cat (I'm not sure being petted at work is the best idea, however), but it's also a floaty mess that makes me look a bit too much like I'm auditioning for Wicked Witch of the West.

I bet you didn't know that witches have overly clean hair.

Sorry. Had to answer the phone. You know, it's hard to tell someone what the name of a tool on display is when you can't actually see the display. Just saying.

I've completely missed whatever train of thought it was that I was pretending to be on now. Maybe I (and my hair) will use the excuse to call it a day, then. Or at least a post.

Hitting publish... now.

Pointless photo of the day:

Hey, remember that old song about my being too busy to post?

Well, we're singing it again. I've got a program in about a half hour and I've made the choice to finish my lunch rather than come up with something interesting/pithy/pointless for the blog.

Dereliction of duty, yes.

I can't say it bothers me much.

Happy Dead Mouse Buying Day

Doesn't have the same ring to it as Happy Fish Buying Day, somehow. And no, the pointless photo is not of a dead mouse. There are plenty of dead mice in the freezer now and I could have taken their photos but chose not to.

You're welcome for that.

If anyone's curious as to the reason for the dead mice... they're for the snakes. Mice for the snakes, crickets for the salamander, and Quiznos for me.

I, er, stopped at Quiznos first. Didn't want the dead mice and (live) crickets to be slow roasted by the time I got back to the car, you see.

I can honestly say I never pictured myself going to a pet store and casually buying dead mice and crickets. I was a bit of a jumpy child (for "bit jumpy" read "I was massively neurotic"), and while we had plenty of pets we never had anything that couldn't get its nutrition out of a bag of processed food. Well, unless you count the monkeys.

And no, I'm not kidding about the monkeys.

I'm not sure what happened to turn me from someone who couldn't bear to have a butterfly land on her to someone who doesn't mind dangling a warmed-up mouse in front of a hungry snake (well, ok, so I minded dangling the mouse today, but only because it's the first time I've fed this particular snake and I wasn't sure how it would react). Four years of dissection labs in university probably didn't hurt, but that only gets a person used to dead things and the smell of Formalin. Maybe it's the part where I spend a fair amount of my professional life trying to convince children that creepy crawlies aren't gross or evil or something to be frightened of.

Say it enough and you start to convince yourself?

Maybe I just grew out of it. Or grew too lazy. It takes a lot of energy to be that afraid of everything around you, you know.

Anyway, the snakes are fed, the salamander is fed, the toad is fed, the crickets are fed (some of them to the salamander...), and so am I.

Back to work for all of us, I guess.

Happy Fish Buying Day

But first...

You know that old Albert Hammond song It Never Rains in Southern California? Well, I'd just like to say that I am, apparently, NOT in Southern California.

I did know that anyway, but the current weather is going a long way to confirm it.

I didn't edit today's pointless photo at all, by the way. I kind of liked the way it came off the camera.




Erm... digitally? Oh, you know what I was trying to say.

----------

Some of you may be wondering why I titled this post Happy Fish Buying Day. Others may know why I titled the post Happy Fish Buying Day but are wondering why the pointless photo is of a wet poppy rather than something more appropriate like, say, a fish.

Well, you have a point.

I probably should have looked for a fish photo.

Shoot.




Ah well, too late now. Or at least too lazy to start again.

Fish Buying Day, for those new to the program, is the day that I buy my father a new fish. It comes around once a year, and it generally seems to coincide quite nicely with Father's Day.

Translate the above nonsense as: Every year I buy a fish for Father's Day. A live fish, not a dead one. A fish for the father figure's pond. The whole thing started as a bit of a joke a few years ago when I sneaked a small black koi into the pond and waited for him to find it (and yes, I did tell him about it later that same day. He wouldn't have noticed a fish that colour until he cleaned the pond out in the fall) and it's since become a bit of a tradition. Some years it's a multifish purchase, but this time he didn't lose any in his overwintering tank so rather than risk overpopulation I bought a grand total of one fish.

A sarasa comet, for anyone who knows more about fish than I do.

And really, the average eight-year-old knows more about fish than I do.

I'm not so much into fish.

That makes Fish Buying Day an all-around weirdness, really.




Appropriate for my family, somehow.

Anyway, the fish has been bought (yesterday. So I guess this is technically Post-Fish Buying Day. Fish Boxing Day? Wonder where they get the tiny little gloves, in that case. And how would they fit gloves on their fins?) and is, at the moment, enjoying(?) its first ever rainstorm, the card has been given, and... life goes on as usual.

We're not big on show here.

That's not to say that I don't appreciate my father. I do, very much. I also get along very well with him, which is a wonder considering that I'm a lot like him. It's never seemed to be an issue, though.

Yes, I do realise that I'm lucky.

Anyway, I hope all the dads out there are having a good Fish Buying Day. If, by some chance, somebody bought you a power tool or something instead of a fish, I'm sure it can be exchanged. You might want to let them know for next year, though.

Later, all.

Pointless... well, I haven't quite decided yet

If you listen carefully you can probably hear me coughing. I'm feeling better today (better than dead still counts as better) but I'm sounding much more annoying.

I'm also not really in the mood to blather, as you've likely already guessed.

So...

Oh, I should say that I've changed my mind about sharing that very strange dream I mentioned yesterday with the electronic world. It was odd, it was VERY MUCH Nyquil-induced, and while it wasn't disturbing to be in the middle of the thing I don't think it'll read like anything so much as a massive nightmare.

It wasn't.

It was entertaining as hell, but see above re: drugged-up brain. At the time, anyway. I don't qualify for that distinction at the moment.

And I still don't have a topic.

Ah well, maybe I'll try later. Or tomorrow.






That counts as later, doesn't it?

Not a lot of time to post of the day:

I have a program in about a half hour that I need to go set up for. Time flies, you see.

Flies.

Get it?

Oh, shut up.

----------

I seriously don't have time to post properly (or even improperly, as I usually do) just now, which is kind of a shame because I actually had something I wanted to tell you about.

No, really. I did. It was this fairly bizarre (and, admittedly, medication-assisted. I have a cold, did I mention?) dream I had last night. Maybe if you remind me I'll sit down and type the thing out tonight, because it really was a doozy. Just... well, the only difficulty is that it might tell you more about the inner (non)workings of my brain when I'm under the weather than anyone should ever want to know, but it may even be worth it for the entertainment value alone.

We'll see if I'm in the mood later, then.

For now, gotta fly.




Didn't I already tell you to shut up? I'm not well, after all.

Pointless photo of the day:

It's Cranesbill, or Sticky Purple Geranium.

That's what it is, all right.

Is it too early in the post to admit that I have nothing again today? Probably, but I'm going to do it anyway. We can add watch to the list of things I don't have (look back at yesterday's post. There was a list. Really), since I managed to break mine during this morning's program. Well, not break, exactly. The watch still works. The strap? Not so much.

I guess I'll be reaching into my pocket a lot for this afternoon's program.

I'll also be wet, apparently. It just started to rain. Ah well, I already look miserable (did I mention that I have a FRIGGING cold?) so being wet will just complete the ensemble.

Sigh.

I'd say I want to go home, but I've already been kicked out of work once this week. Two more and I'll likely get suspended. Or at least detention.





Go away now.

Pointless Goldenrod Spider sketch from a few years ago of the day:

Yeah, I've got nothing. Literally nothing. No voice after an afternoon shouting at kids (we call it a pond study but it certainly seems to involve a lot more yelling than studying). No photos because I left my nerdstick at home. No energy because (and I think I may have mentioned this) I have a FRIGGING cold.

Yesterday I got kicked out of work.

Yeah, really. I came back from my afternoon program and was told to go home. Not only that, but I was told to take this morning off as well.

I did.

I still have a cold.

I imagine I'll still have a cold tomorrow, too.

Ah well. Enjoy the spider. Tomorrow we'll probably be back to the usual pointlessness.

Excepting, of course, that I'll still have a cold.

Pointless photo of the day:

And that'll do it for now. I'm not feeling terribly well, so I think I'll save us all a pointless whinge by not actually talking (well, typing) about anything today.

The photo is of a beetle on a white cinquefoil flower, if anyone was wondering. I have no idea what kind of beetle, and I don't really intend to find out.

Er... so there, I guess.

Properly equipped

Before I type anything else, a disclaimer:

I have a cold.

I spent a good part of the weekend trying to convince myself that I was not getting a cold. Apparently, though, the Power of Positive Thinking does not extend to whether or not one gets a cold.

Who knew?

-----------

The item you see relaxing beside the pool (ok, sitting on the edge of the fish pond) would be my father's compact tripod. It's not a mini-tripod although it looks it -- the thing really does unfold to a full-sized photographic tripod with more bells and whistles (well, more like levers and screws. Not too many bells and/or whistles on a tripod) than even my full-sized extremely NOT compact tripod at the apartment has.

It's a neat little gizmo, that tripod. Just about everything on a tripod that you could imagine being adjustable is adjustable. It's old enough, too, that it was made much more solidly than your average mini-tripod of today's Made In China mercantile society.

Sorry for that last weird sentence. I have a cold, remember?

I don't normally use a tripod anymore. I used to, back when I was still using a film camera. Film camera to a cheapy like me automatically meant that I kept the experimentation to a minimum because I didn't want to have to pay to develop mistakes, so any time I was doing something where steadiness was an issue I'd have the tripod out.

My tripod has a few miles on it.

Or did have. It hasn't been used for yeeears now.

Ever since I entered the digital world of disposable photography I've been much more willing to take dozens of shaky hand-held shots without worrying about the proper equipment. Don't like a photo? Heck, that's why god created the delete button.

Most of the pointlessness that reaches the blog (including every macro) is hand-held. It's not at all obvious, I know. Usually the shakiness and less-than-optimal focus doesn't bother me enough to do anything about it, to be honest. After all, I consider anything I post here to be more or less ephemeral. If the whole thing disappeared tomorrow it wouldn't concern me a whole lot. I'm not really trying to make a statement with my own personal brand of pointless photography, if anyone wondered. It's all just stuff I thought was neat. Not much effort put into any of it.

Except for this weekend, for some reason. This weekend I actually took out my father's tripod and SET UP SOME SHOTS. I know, I was shocked too.

The nice thing about that tripod being so compact is that you can use it as a tripod or as a monopod braced against your body. It gives a person a fair amount of flexibility.

So what was the result of properly planning my photos instead of taking the usual quick snaps?

Well...

I'm not going to tell you.

Some of the photos will no doubt appear here in the next week, but I'm going to intentionally intersperse them with some taken in the usual way. I'd be willing to bet that no one will really notice.

But it was fun for me. I'll have to get back to doing that more often.

----------

As a final note, I'd like to say that today is an anniversary. One year ago today, Snodgrass texted to remind me that it was Hugh Laurie's birthday. It seems to me I teased her for a week afterwards, didn't I?

Sad that I get such amusement out of such minor things, I suppose. Happy birthday anyway although it's pretty much wrong that I'm wishing happy birthday to a public figure who doesn't know me from Adam when all I did for my brother's on the 2nd was to ask my father to say happy birthday from me when he phoned him. Ah well, happy birthday to you too then, bro.

Fashion statement

Not everyone can pull off capris with blue ragg socks and black suede Ropers (that'd be the shoes), you know.

And shut up, world. It's the weekend, and that translates as no one should give a flying rat's bottom what I'm wearing. I certainly don't.

It's not like I'm a fashion plate at the best of times. I'm perfectly capable of dressing well if I have to, but for the most part there's not much point to it. I wear a uniform at work, and when I'm not at work you're very likely to find me in my pyjamas.

Assuming I'm home, of course. I don't usually do my grocery shopping in my pyjamas.

Note that I'm not saying that appearances don't have importance. We can't help but make judgements based on how a person looks. It's how we're wired. And I certainly wouldn't go to a job interview wearing what I had on when I took the pointless photo.

I just think that sometimes people fuss about things that don't need to be fussed over. I don't need to have the latest... well, anything, when it comes right down to it. This was going to become a lengthier rant, but I'm sort of in a weekend mood and I've just now decided that I can't be bothered putting in the energy it would take to be indignant about such a trivial topic. Let's take the short route, then, and say that as long as my hair is combed, my teeth are brushed, and my clothes are clean, I don't really care whether I'm wearing a $200 dress (yes, I do own one) or $20 jeans.

It's all very much a great big whatever in my world.

Besides, I like those socks...





Go enjoy your Sunday, already.

Preferences

The pointless photo is Dirty Moe in one of his more reflective moods.

Do you get it? Do you? Oh, never mind.

----------

Having a bit of disposable income for a change, I've ordered a couple of things from an online company that really, really doesn't need me to name it.

This particular company (and many others, I know) now gives you a list of suggestions when you sign in. Suggestions based on your previous orders, I mean. You know the type of thing: "others who have ordered *blank* have also ordered *whatsis*"... or, "since you already own *thingumee* you may enjoy *blahdiblah* by the same author." Very helpful, those preference lists.

Or at least weirdly entertaining.

I tend to be a little bit eclectic in my tastes, and I think it's mucking with Giant Internet Company's algorithm a tad. The poor thing just can't figure me out. It can't decide whether I prefer books or DVDs, for one thing. Not a big deal there (I order both, obviously), but I don't exactly stick to the same subjects in each medium.

When I order books I'm most likely to be ordering nonfiction (it's been too long since I've bothered to get lost in a good story, to be honest), but that's about all you can count on. It might be history, language, nature (usually for work in that case), art, philosophy, or (even more likely) a complete and total whim. It might even be poetry, although there hasn't been enough of that lately either.

Automated suggestion pages don't like that kind of schizophrenia. After my last book order -- which, if I remember right, consisted of a book on language history, a poetry survey, and something about popular philosophy -- the poor thing thought I'd like to own several books about American politics.

Um, no.

Nice try, though.

My most recent splurge was the entire BlackAdder on DVD (I was going into snark withdrawal, for whatever reason. And for the pedantic fans, I should say that the main title on the box is BlackAdder, but the character's name is written as Blackadder. And yes, I did know that already). Needless to say, this purchase has completely and total confused my preference list. The last time I checked, it was trying to intersperse every silly British comedy ever made with books like Eats, Shoots & Leaves and the complete letters of Fanny Burney. And pretty much everything that Hugh Laurie's had anything to do with, of course.

Yeah, that part made me laugh too.

Maybe it says a little too much about the way I'm wired, but I get a real kick out of things like that. To the point, even, that I occasionally find myself missing the old Google banners that were standard on Blogger blogs like this one. For those who don't remember, they would use key words in the blog entries to pick "related" ads.

The old blog once went a week with ads for Mein Kampf after I'd described something as Hitlerian. It was hilariously inappropriate, and I do sort of miss the added incongruity. Not enough to put on an advertising banner by choice (and MAKE MONEY ON MY BLOG!!!), but enough to have an odd sort of nostalgia for it.

Is it too early in the game to be having blog nostalgia? Probably.

Anyway, I should go get some lunch and then spin those new discs to make sure they don't need to be shipped back. Later, all.






Hmmm. Maybe I should look into that Fanny Burney book...

Pointless thought of the day:

Why is it that some days around here it seems like I'm the only person who recognises that a pencil has to be sharpened in order to, you know, work?

And... that's all you get today, folks. From me, anyway. I've been busy. And since you had a bonus photo yesterday I refuse to feel even the slightest bit of guilt about the nothingness of today.

So there.

Bonus pointless photo of the day:

It's my office friend. Well, one of them. I later found out there were two hanging out with me.

Sorry the shot's not clearer. Jumping spiders are notorious for not posing long enough for the autofocus to figure out what it's actually looking at.

The yellow thing beside the spider is a push-pin. These things aren't exactly huge, as you can see.

That's it for your daily spider, folks. You can leave now. Or stay, I suppose, but I'm not going to be around.

I'm officially weird

Yeah, I realise you already knew that. And shut up, world.

The weirdness today is about an impromptu pet I've been sharing the desk with this morning. I was typing away when I saw something out of the corner of my eye (and who decided that eyes have corners? Eyes don't have corners; they're ball-shaped. Unless you're an owl or something like that. Then they're shaped like an Apollo space capsule). When I looked closer I noticed something dangling just above the desk, about a half-metre away from my head.

Yep, I've been sharing my space with a spider today. A Zebra Jumping Spider, to be exact. Salticus scenicus.

And where does the weird come in?

Well, I would suspect that most people, when confronted with a half-seen black blob dangling a half-metre from their heads, would at least have a slight wince, jump, or what-the-hell? reaction until they figured out what the aforementioned half-seen black blob was.

Me?

I swear, honestly swear, that my first thought was "hey! Is that a spider? Cool! I wonder what kind?"

I think I have spiders permanently indented in the brain. There's got to be a little spider brand burned in there somewhere. Nothing else explains instant thoughts of cool spiders when confronted with a half-seen black blob.

Anyway, this particular little boy (boy, yes. And I'm not planning to give lessons in spider-sexing today. Maybe another day, if there's demand for a spider-sexing class) has since been checking out the desk in a way that only Salticids can. The jumping spiders see very well (you'd have to, if you're depending on leaping to catch food), and Zebra Jumpers in particular always look like they're curious about pretty much everything they see.

They also have this peculiar, jerky way of moving about. They're very entertaining to watch... and to play with. They follow movement, you see, so I... erm...

Yeah. I've been playing with a spider on the desk. Or I was, before I started typing about it.





I did warn you about the weird.

Ah well. What can you do but accept it? After all, this blog really does strive to live up to its footer.

Before I go, I should say that the pointless non-photo is a scan of a sketch I did of a Zebra Jumper for a display I put together a few years ago. It's schematic more than realistic, but it gives the idea. It gives the idea if you remember that the actual spider's usually less than a half-centimetre wide (including legs), that is. The whole thing's much less freaky if you know that.

No, really. It is much less freaky...







Oh, whatever. I need to go have lunch now.

The spider'll have to find its own.

Too tired to post

And apparently the photo thingy's too tired to accept pointlessness. I'll try again in a minute.

Is it redundant to say I'm tired? I am, after all, the Department of Redundancy Department around here. Just ask anyone. Everything I do has built-in redundancy because I don't want program files to be lost amongst the many hands that have to handle them. I think that's a good thing, but sometimes I think it's just magnifying my own innate personality dysfunction.

OLF, remember.

Anyway. Today we're going to talk about hiding under a rock. Or on a rock, I suppose, since that's what the spider in the belated pointless photo is doing.

I'd like to hide under a rock, I think.

I'm in the uncomfortable position of being noticed today. I hate being noticed. It's weird, I know, considering the job I'm in, but I would be perfectly happy merrily trundling through my work life ANONYMOUSLY. I mean, yes... I try to do my job decently and I'll even go so far as to admit that there are parts of it that I do well, but I really hate getting any above-and-beyond recognition for what I do.

And what was the notice that's bothering my wee brain today?

Well, I'm being requested. Specifically requested. By more than one teacher.

I hate that.

I hate that because we try to organise things here so that programs can be done by most interpreters interchangeably. In an ideal world, that's how things should be working. We hire good people, we give them specific program objectives, and we let them do their stuff.

Now, obviously different people have different strengths and different levels of comfort with any given subject matter. We're human. That's how it goes. I would like us as a group, however, to be seen as uniformly competent whenever possible. It shouldn't matter what interpreter a class gets -- they should know that they're going to have a good experience.

This is the part where I should type some rah-rah something about us being a team. Just imagine that I did that already, ok? I'm not in the mood.

At any rate, when I'm singled out for some reason (no matter if it's in a nice way)...

urgh...

It doesn't feel right.

It should be a nice little ego boost, I suppose, but it just makes me completely uncomfortable. First, uncomfortable that anyone here is being thought of as better than the next person, but there's more to it than that. There's the added expectation. There's the possibility of being a disappointment.

And there's the bit where I'd like to be hiding under a rock.

One of the reasons I enjoyed performing (back in the ooooold days) is that I could satisfy my inner ham without actually having to be noticed for me. Sounds weird, but I think it's more common than you might realise. If you're on stage you can give credit for any extraordinary results to the writers, directors, composers... heck, to the lighting director for making you look good. It's not just the responsibility of one person.

It never is.

I guess what it comes down to is that I'm not particularly special and any suggestion that I might be doesn't feel right. Even something as simple as being requested by a teacher.

More than one teacher.

gah






Doesn't anyone out there have a rock I can borrow?
And how the hell did someone like me get here, exactly?







Some days I just really don't have a clue.

Eyes and root beer

And some Pin Cherry blossoms (search that one yourself. Too lazy to link today) because I didn't have pointless photos of eyes or root beer handy.

----------

The root beer portion of this post will be brief. Probably the other portion of this post will be brief as well, but I only have the one thing to say about root beer at the moment so I know I can keep this brief. I have a root beer question, actually.

Why is it that root beer always tastes better out of a chilled mug?

I'll admit that the question comes up because of a quick lunch the other day at a certain fast food restaurant that I'm sure everyone's figured out without my stating the name. I'll admit that, yes, but before anyone goes on to say that it's something to do with the way that particular chain carbonates their drinks or something along that line, I'd like you to try it at home.

Go on.

Buy some bottled root beer.

Drink some.

Then try it out of a chilled mug. That's right, put any old mug in the fridge, let it cool, then have some root beer out of it.

THE ROOT BEER WILL TASTE BETTER.





That actually annoys me a little, you know.

----------

You know what else annoys me? My eyes.

I've mentioned it before (well, on the old blog), but I have a bit of a thing for nice eyes. That and nice suits, but we're not going to talk about tailoring today. Anyway, I'm definitely an eye person.

That's why it's annoying that my own eyes are so... nondescript. I mean, my eyes can't even decide what colour they are. Sort of a bluish-green, I guess. Swampwater green. Or blue.

They're listed as green on my driver's licence, but that's just because that's how they looked in the registry's lighting. Seriously. When it came time to get my first licence, we couldn't decide what colour my eyes were so we polled everyone in the office. The consensus was green, so I'm officially green.

On another day it could have been blue, though.

Stupid eyes.

Lately I've been pretending my eyes are green. In other words, the last time I bought eye shadow I bought colours that emphasise green. It was just the mood I was in at the time, really. Next time maybe I'll be emphasising blue eyes. May as well, if my eyes don't know what colour they are to begin with.

The problem is that the colours that bring out green (greenness? The state of being green? Ah, but it's not that easy being green) also tend to bring out any bit of redness that's there as well.

It's true. Check your color wheel. Red and green are complementary.

Do I need to mutter something about sleeplessness and red eyes here?

Can't win for trying, it seems.





Ah well, whatever. I need to go have lunch now so that I can go out and annoy some people this afternoon.

Maybe I'll do it just by staring.

A person with annoying eyes should get some use out of them, after all.

Pointless something. Damned if I even know.

Ok, so I do know that the photo is of Saskatoon flowers.

That's about the sum total of everything, though. Lack of sleep, overly hot apartment, and ever so slightly frustrating day all add up to... well, see the title.

And I have no lunch.

Hey, did everyone MISS ME?????





Yeah, me neither. I'll attempt the blog thing more properly tomorrow.

And that was the way it was

Surely you didn't think you could get away all this time with nary a photo of at least one dog, did you?


This photo was taken yesterday in the back garden and as you can see close-up, she is helping Mother Nature along. Just look at that forehead.


If I were to take the very same photo right now, all you would see is raindrops slithering down the lens for as promised, it is ... *sigh* ... ironing weather.


I think I'll "suit up" and go play with the pups in the park instead. I'm sure I can drag this out some more.

Self-explanatory nonsense

Today was - well, a bit odd. Yeh, yeh, what makes this different than any other day you ask. We can hear you deep sigh as your eyes roll back in your head, you know.

My only intentional task for the day was to get the ironing done. Simple isn't it.

I meant to do one thing.

However .... woke up around 6:30-ish and wandered to the yard with the pups. We played a little and I left them to tug on the rope while I went to play fetch myself. I was, of course, in search of coffee not braided cotton.

Yep, there was the laundry basket on the kitchen table. Yes, sir. Right there, smiling.


So coffee in hand - well, in the huge mug actually - back to the yard I went. Realizing I'd forgotten my 'phone, I had to go back in the house to retrieve it. Found the 'phone. Which made me think to go toss the air-dried jeans into the dryer (why did you even ask how that made me think of the jeans at this point? You did, didn't you) to soften them on the cold fluff cycle, which in turn makes them easier to iron.

The ironing was beginning to whine, I swear.

In the basement, I opened the chest freezer to search for something to thaw for dinner. Then I used the stick-vac to tidy up the laundry-room lint, which led to topping up the container of dog food up on the landing beside the side door. The forty-pound bags are kept on one of the tables in my laundry-room, well out of pup reach you see and emptied into the air-tight container as necessary.

Ah, yes, back down to retrieve the 'phone and the souvlaki. Turkey if anyone is really into the details.

Of course, the pups being out of the house meant it was a little easier to tidy up a bit so I did a little light dusting, fluffed the pillows on the couch. Then back to the kitchen to hunt for the wire rack to put on the plate which goes under the souvlaki so the air can circulate to thaw it evenly. Yes, yes, gentle readers I do have a certain way to do things.

On my way toward the side door, now with telephone in pocket, I ponder missed opportunities if I don't take the camera with me. It is my passion after all... and I'm almost sure I left it on the desk in the den - hey! There it is right beside the computer! It'll only take a minute to check email and see if there's any more hits on my photo gallery "out there".

The ironing by this time was starting to stomp its feet.

The pups run to greet me as I enter their world once more and there is a healthy bit of scratching behind the ears, "go get the toy!!!" and such. I reach for my coffee mug. The contents are cold.

Back into the house for fresh coffee and the camera is certainly not safe anywhere remotely near the pups who can now leap to great heights and/or stretch to the same height as every flat surface in the yard.

As I walked toward the coffee pot the ironing was mocking me.

I left the kitchen, aforementioned huge mug in hand, camera over shoulder AND with two doggie breakfasts in their pretty metal dishes.
None of this was a problem as it is perfectly easy to manoeuvre one's way over the obstacle course if the camera is securely steadied on the left upper arm whilst using the left elbow to push the handle on the side-door as one juggles the dogs' room service in the right hand.

All of which reminds me of the origin of today's photo.
Not to even remotely suggest this post has a point.

I read what I considered a clever thing on the internet many years ago, which went something like: "Just for today - LOOK A BIRD!!!!!!! - let me concentrate on one thing at a time."


Oh and the ironing might get done tomorrow. It's supposed to rain.

American Goldfinch by the way. You can tell by the tiny flag pin on his lapel.

A pointless purple thing

It took about four years to get these bulbs to actually look healthy when they've come up in the Spring, this being only one of a couple of dozen waving their navel-orange-sized heads out there.
You'd think I'd be able to remember what they are, then, since I've fostered them along this long.

Thing is, my brain can hold only so much information and apparently I'm out of RAM.

In other news, it's incredibly warm and believe it or not, we need rain. There are saplings over in the woods that look like they're gasping... which I suppose makes me responsible for any Act of God which pops up in the next while now that I've raised the issue.

Oh well. Enjoy the ... purple thing.

Burr ~ and it's summer too

Sue me for the play on words but it's not even nine a.m. The jet fuel is kicking in, though, which can only work to the benefit of the dogs. What a walk they're going to have, if it's not already 40 (Canadian) degrees out there with the humidity.

Don't tell ME the climate hasn't dramatically changed in the past few years.
Gore stole my thunder, you know.

Anyway, the pups are actually more clever than they sometimes look, even remembering the breed. Yesterday was such an ugly day for smog and heat that after ten minutes had gone by in their afternoon wander, Duchess sat down. Now when Duchess sits down, Duchess sits down.

This type of sitting down generally involves a huge sigh, an harumph and I swear an eyeroll is involved in the process.

Bailey looked at me over her shoulder and jerked her head toward home (oh, she did so) as if to tell me to get with the programme. Apparently the girls don't "do" heat.

I see by the big chart on the wall which is really small icons at the bottom of my taskbar that there is a 15-degree difference between here and where the OLF resides.

Maybe she should be enjoying the walk so I can finish my coffee. Seems fair to me. I mean, she rarely gets outside.

Oh, wait. There is that work place she's mentioned on occasion. Um, never mind then.


And Happy June and whotheheckstolethefirstfivemonthsofmyyear!? <--that's as quick as it's gone yes