The things you recall

On July 31st, 1987, I was camping with my family at Crimson Lake. I remember this because at a certain point of the afternoon a man came running through the campground, shouting that a tornado had hit Edmonton.

We thought he'd had too much to drink.

The next thing you know, though, we were all huddled around the tiny black and white television in the camper, trying to get any kind of reception with the rabbit ears and looking on in complete disbelief when we finally did. An F4 tornado in Edmonton. It didn't seem possible.

Obviously, from the way I described it just now, that tornado has become one of my remember where you were when moments. That, the Challenger disaster (I'd had that morning off and had the "pleasure" of seeing the whole thing on the live feed), Princess Diana's death (which I also watched the live news feed of. Insomnia, that time. And surely I don't need to link to Princess Diana?)... there are a couple of other things on that list, but I'd imagine you've got the gist.

What I want to know is why the remember whens in my life all seem to be negative.

Unfortunately, I was too young to remember the moon landings or the '72 Canada-Russia series. Actually... sporting events don't usually do it for me anyway, so even if I had been old enough to notice anything about those hockey games it probably would have only been a remember when in that I'd be remembering the weird behaviour of the sports fans around me.

Now, of course I can remember what I was doing when I found out about certain family events (both positive and negative), but what I'm talking about here is the kind of thing that when you hear mention of its anniversary on the news you automatically know where you were when it happened. Collective memory, I guess. Culture remembering.

And you have to admit that it's generally the disasters that stick in the brain.

So, on this anniversary of Black Friday (and I'm in full denial that it was twenty years ago) I'm asking for a little assistance. Remember for me. I want to see if I can recall at least something personal about some events that didn't involve death and destruction.

Good luck with that. I have a feeling that it's not the easiest challenge in the world. Either that, or I'm even more of a pessimist than I already knew I was. And that, my friends, is a slightly more than depressing thought.

Pointless artsy blather of the day:

This is one of my favourite filters because it forces you to see things differently. You've been looking at dragonflies all week (and yes, there are more yet to come. I might intersperse them with other things for the next while, though. I wouldn't want to cause anyone dragonfly burnout), but what have you really seen? Have you seen the lacy wings? The surprisingly hairy thorax? The monstrously huge eyes? The little hooks on the legs?

When I crop photos -- that is, when I'm feeling artsy about cropping photos -- I sometimes don't aim for the obvious featured-subject-in-the-centre approach. I'm looking at shape and at the way an object creates negative space. I look for lines. Curves. Diagonals that will draw the eye to different parts of the photo.

Things that make me happy... or sometimes things that annoy me. Depends on the mood, I guess.

You know, if you ever saw me typing these silly blathers when I'm here at my father's place and found out how often I'm interrupted by an Oh! I like this song interlude, you'd understand why my posts are so disjointed and at the same time probably wonder how they manage to make any sense at all. That last one was a full-on chair dance, I have to admit.

Anyway, pointless photography. The reason I waste so much of my time taking macros, cropping them in weird ways, and then filling up the internet with them is that it helps me see things in ways that I might not have otherwise. I like that. I hope it gives me a little more appreciation for the amazing things that surround us in this life.

What it does for you is entirely up to you. I'd imagine it's more on the scale of wtf than what a wonderful world, but that's fine with me. This is, after all, ultimately an exercise in pointlessness. Wouldn't want anyone to be deriving too much meaning from it.

And now I'm going to surrender to the edge-of-headache fog I'm currently in. It's been too hot to sleep properly, and judging from the level of loopiness it's starting to catch up with me more than a little. Besides, it's almost time to change laundry loads.

Gotta have priorities, you know.

Pointless dragonfly photo of the day:

Hey, guess what. I'm not allergic to wasp stings!

Wanna know how I found out?




sigh

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I don't have a lot to say today (HUGE surprise, I'm sure), but I did want to take a moment to let you know that there is, in fact, such a thing as a stupid question.

I should know. I'm asked enough of them.

I'd love to know who came up with that whole no such thing as a stupid question idea, because I'd very happily reward him with a boot to the groin. All that phrase does is give people the excuse to not think before they open their mouths. It's also permission for laziness, if you ask me. Why bother to put effort into finding out things on your own when you can just ask a stupid question instead and make someone else work for you?

I know. Bitter much, Dee?

The fact is, I have no problem with questions if someone's honestly attempted to figure things out already. If I can clarify something or help cut down on wasted time by answering your question, ask away. Just don't expect me to be thrilled if I'm obviously putting up with stupid for stupid's sake, that's all.




I'm so very much in the wrong job. Here I am being annoyed about stupid questions, and there hasn't actually even been one today. Yet. Yes, folks, anticipation of stupidity is making me cranky.

That, and the sore spots on my face and neck from that damned wasp.





Ah well. I'd best go take my cranky self and go feed the snakes.

Pointless

Yeah, this one had a little help from the photoeditor. I like it this way, though. It picks out the wings nicely.

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So, why is today's topic pointless? Mostly because I have no topic. You don't get much more pointless than that.

I'm working the late shift tonight, and (for whatever reason) it seems to make it less likely that I'll blog anything worth reading. I have no idea why, but it happens every time I attempt to blog later in the day than my usual time.

I'm not at all a creature of habit, you know.

Maybe I should blame the lack of substance you're finding here lately on the quarterly game of Let's Edit the Newsletter I've been playing in the past few days. Wrestling with the newsletter generally takes the wind right out of my writing sails.

Not to be confused with my writing sales, which are nonexistent as I've never actually tried to sell this dreck.

I could say something about it taking my soul, too, but that's melodramatic even for Yours Hammily.

Anyway, I'm back to the usual schedule tomorrow. That means I'll have to find yet another excuse for whatever does or doesn't end up on the blog, but don't worry. I'm up to the challenge.

How does it's too hot to blog strike you? Or it's the end of my work week? How about isn't it time for the Toronto office to come up with some pointlessness?

Oh, I'll work on it. See you tomorrow.

Pointless vague muttering of the day:

By the way, you're supposed to admire the wing shadow in today's pointless photo.

Or at the very least you could shrug indifferently.

Whatever.

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I'm in a bit of a fog today. Slept in (well, more woke-up-early-as-usual-but-fell-back-to-sleep-and-apparently-hadn't-set-the-alarm) and was late to work, which is an extremely rare occurrence. Also completely missed a sudden and (I'm told) very noisy thunderstorm last night. Slept through it.

Weird. I'm suspecting that I might have some sort of bug or something.





I just hope it's not a cockroach. Cockroaches are icky.

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I hear from my father that the copies of the third and fourth series of A Bit of Fry and Laurie that I'd ordered from Giant Internet Company Which Doesn't Need Me to Advertise It have arrived at his place. Yes, I have things like that shipped to his place rather than mine. I don't especially like my mailman, you see. If there was a way to fold a DVD, he'd find it.

Anyway, in a few days I'll be happily up to my eyeballs in sketch comedy silliness. That is, if I can manage not to sleep through it. I did mention the whole brain fog thing, right?

I've been a fan of sketch comedies ever since I can remember, and I'd guess that it's at least partly because the format suits the short attention span. Or suites, which is what I originally typed.

Seriously, boys and girls. My head is completely on its own planet right now.

Um...





Topic.

Yes, one more try at a topic before I completely abandon all hope of readability.

I'm a fan of sketch comedy, yes, but I like to think that I'm a little discerning in my tastes. I like things that have a good mix of cleverness, wordplay, and interesting visuals... with the occasional bit of what-the-hell thrown in just to keep a person on her toes.

And for anyone thinking that I've said all of this before: I know. It was on the old blog, though.

Probably when I got my copies of series one and two of A Bit of Fry and Laurie.







You know what? I think I'll continue with this thought when I can actually form a thought.

Going now.

Possibly to sleep under the desk.

Know ye this

I get a little annoyed with people who believe that we as individuals somehow know less today than our educated forebears did. The people who will tell you this are usually of the same crowd that is sure that the English language has somehow become degenerate.

My two fans know how I feel about that, and since it's something that I'll no doubt continue to rehash whenever I'm short a topic, I'll leave it be for now.

Education, though, we'll talk about.

I'm tired of hearing people complain that no one reads the classics anymore. I'm also tired of hearing that we're no longer able to hold educated conversations, and that the man (man, note. Back in the Good Old Days it wasn't expected that woman should even be included) of three hundred years ago was much more likely to be well-studied and knowledgeable about his world.

Oh, Gordon Lightfoot break. 'Scuse me while I delay the rant for a couple of minutes.






Aaand we're back. Where was I?

Right. I was about to type an obscenity. I'll give that a miss now, though. Sometimes taking a Gordon Lightfoot break is a good thing.

Really, it's almost always a good thing no matter what you were about to type.

This idea that we're somehow less educated today, however, is not a good thing. It ignores the basic principle that an education is worth nothing if it's not suiting you for the life you actually live.

Yes, the educated man of a couple of centuries ago would be more likely to know Latin. Yes, he'd be able to recite poetry. He'd probably be able to take his part in a glee or a madrigal, and he'd be very likely able to hold his end up in a discussion about the latest scientific monograph.

Would he be able to program a VCR?


And yeah, I should probably have said PVR rather than VCR nowadays, but since most PVRs are fairly idiot-proof to program... well, it doesn't help my case much.

My point is that the educated man of however many years ago was educated for the world of however many years ago. He would have been relatively wealthy, he would have been trying to fit into a society which expected discussion of literature or the like, and, frankly, the topics of conversation available to him would have seemed pretty limited to our information-heavy era.

It's easy to know everything when there's less of everything to know.

Don't get me wrong. I'd love for society to be more literate (or literary, maybe). I have an interest in the classics, and I wish more people read them. I'd love to be able to sit around and discuss poetry or music or whatever with a group of people and not be surprised to find out that someone else in that group has an enlightened opinion about it.

Do I think that everyone who doesn't is uneducated?

Of course not.

Not sharing my interests doesn't equal uneducated.

I would trade any number of highly educated gentlemen (in the old sense of the word) for a largely-educated society. To my mind it's much more important that we offer a general education to everyone, or at least to everyone who has a base-level ability to learn. It's fine to look back on the grand old time of the well-rounded intellectual, but while you're doing that don't forget that many of the people around him wouldn't have even had the chance to find out how to spell their own names.

So there's the choice. Take a relatively few people, educate them until the polysyllabic words are absolutely spilling out of their ears, and then stand back and admire them... or accept a slightly less stellar level of knowledge and open it up to everyone. I know what I'd vote for.

Sofas are so much more comfortable to sit on than pedestals, you know.

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I had to come back to add that I find it hilarious that the majority of voters on the blog seem to prefer their bananas excited.

That statement will make no sense at all once I take down the current poll, but at the moment the whole thing is giving me a laugh.

Pointless dragonfly photo of the day:

A boy, this time. Mature males of this species are red, and the females and immatures are yellow.

Since you're going to be seeing a lot of these dragonflies in the next while, I should be all nature-nerd and tell you that they're meadowhawks. Sympetrum sp., if you'd like to look it up. These ones are probably Cherry-faced Meadowhawks (Sympetrum internum), but since I'm definitely no expert I'll leave it at just meadowhawk to be on the safe side.

And that may be the last bit of sense on the blog today.

Something or other is up with my system, and (as you can imagine) it's making me sooo not happy. I haven't managed a lot of food today, and what lunch I just had is currently causing a sensation that can best be described as... well, let's say ominous.

I'm also wearing a racerback bra for the first time in ages, and I find it a bit distracting.






Yes, you needed to know that.

None of this leads to much in the way of a blog post, as you've probably noticed. You've probably also noticed that I'll use almost any possible excuse to talk myself out of a proper blog post.

Improper ones, now, aren't usually a problem.






Urgh. Really kind of regretting having lunch.

Well, it seems like this post has completely ground to a halt so I think I'll just leave it where it sits. Later, all.

What on earth are you doing?

Every once in a while the five-year-old in my brain gets confused by some of the things the adult (or should I say "adult") in my brain insists upon doing.

Today's photo (which isn't entirely pointless. Sorry if I've confused anyone) is an example of that fact in action.

The finger featured under the dragonfly would be mine. As you've probably guessed, I was holding the dragonfly so I could take a picture of it. I also have a photo from the other angle that my father took, but my two fans don't get to see that one because it actually has my face in it and we all already know that, at least in the world of the blog, I have no face.

That wasn't the first dragonfly I picked up yesterday. There were... oh, I'd say about five different tries at that particular pose.

That's a very weird thing, you know.

Or maybe you don't.

You see, although I have a thing for spiders that's obvious to anyone who's read the blog more than once, what those new to the program won't know is that I'm more than a little bit of an entomophobe. Insectophobe, if you prefer. I've had a fear of insects ever since I can remember.

A serious one.

I'm not kidding when I tell you that I once had a butterfly land on me and as a result my parents couldn't convince me to go outside for several days.

Anyway, through a smidgen of willpower and a lot of necessity (I do, after all, work as a naturalist), I've managed to get so that I can deal with insects. Not just looking at them, even. I've been known to grab a handful of crickets to throw in with the salamander... although that's a pretty new thing. When we started feeding with crickets I had to get someone else to handle them at first. That was kind of inconvenient, so eventually I just sucked it up and made myself do it.

That's where the five-year-old in my brain comes in.

My adult self knows that a handful of crickets isn't going to give me cooties, or that digging in the mealworm tank won't result in the loss of a finger. My five-year-old self watches me do those very things and wonders what the HELL is going on. Instinct tells me that I'm doing something very, very wrong and that it would probably be best to run away very quickly, arms flailing.

You have to do the running away part with arms flailing. Otherwise you don't look nearly enough like a scaredy cat.

I suppose what I'm saying is that it's a wonder I didn't burst my brain yesterday. My inner pointless photographer insisted on close-ups, while my kindergartener was in the back going ew ew ew she's touching a bug...

And she didn't die.

Amazing.

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Today's photo serves more than one purpose, which is totally destroying the pointlessness of the blog. Ah well. The other reason for the NON-pointless photo was to warn you that this next little while you'll be putting up with a lot of dragonfly photos. We're sort of being swarmed by dragonflies at the moment, because the high water levels have led to a pretty huge mosquito population. That in turn means more food for their predators, and THAT in turn means that dragonflies become easy targets for pointless photography.

And stupid photoeditor games.

Don't say you haven't been warned.

Pointless photo of the day:

Otherwise known as Let's eff up the contrast on purpose because it looks neat.

That's going to be it for today. I'm on my second day of a heat-headache (and today we're apparently expecting 32C!!! Yay us...), I could have used a couple more hours of sleep, and I don't really have much on the brain anyway.

Well, there's always air pressure. That's actually quite a lot on the brain, when you think of it.

Getting around to it

There's an 11x14 sketch pad and assorted art sundries sitting on my desk right now in a bright red reusable grocery bag.

Erm... the colour of the bag has nothing to do with anything. Don't know why I even typed that, actually.

It's the same bag of sketching stuff that I brought to work last weekend when I was intending to restart work on a display project that got stalled at the end of the last summer season. The finished pieces have been sitting on the desk since then, reminding me that six pen-and-ink drawings of berry bushes do not a display make.

Absolutely no sketching happened last weekend.

I've a sneaking suspicion that I'll get just as much done this weekend.

It makes no sense, really. I like sketching. I'm not great at it, but the end results are usually at least recognisable. Why, then, does it seem like I need such a kick in the arse to get started with doodling when I haven't done it in a while?

Inertia's a powerful thing, I guess.

By the way, this isn't going to be one of those lengthy pseudophilosophical rants about the nature of life and how they paved paradise to put up a parking lot etc etc etc. I don't have any good reason for not sketching, and since I happen to know that I'm lazy I figure we can all assume that laziness has something to do with the lack of art coming off of my pencils lately.

I need to get me some of those self-directed pencils.

Hmm. Maybe the colour of the bag is relevant. If I can't be guilted into drawing by the sight of a bright red grocery bag full of art supplies sitting within easy eyeshot, then I really need a swift boot to the keister already.

Or whatever. Today's my Friday, remember. I'm just blathering on about nothing.

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Before I go, I feel the need to tell you that I loathe pick-up trucks. Sort of a sad thing considering that I live in Pick-up Central, but I absolutely detest the things. Yes, I know they're useful, but I think it's safe to say that three quarters of the people who drive them around here are doing it just because they like to be the biggest, nosiest thing on the road.

I work at a nature centre that is also the entrance for a nature sanctuary, you might recall. On the weekends especially I tend to be the first one in to work, but often there are already cars in the parking lot because we have a fair number of early morning sanctuary walkers. This morning there were three huge pick-ups, and as I walked to the door from my car another monstrous diesel unit pulled in.

Do these people honestly not notice that nature-loving gas-guzzler-driver isn't a terribly good fit?

Maybe later we'll talk about how stupid people should have to get special licence plates before they're allowed to buy trucks. Or any vehicles, for that matter. For now, though, I think I've got it out of my system. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.

Well, dammit

I had things to say and now I don't have time for it.

I'm even in a decent mood, all things considered. Went to bed at 9:30 last night, and the next thing I knew it was 5:30 this morning. You know what this means?

I SLEPT!!!

Amazing.

The sad thing is, it sort of indicates that in order to sleep for a full night I have to have an early EARLY start to the day and then collapse at the end of it.

I'm not entirely sure it's worth all that.




Anyway, gotta run since apparently weird things are happening up front. Weird things, here. Who'd'a thunk?

EYES!!!

This is one of the photos of the jumping spider I mentioned the other day. Not sure what kind she is, but that's mostly because I haven't bothered to try to figure it out.

If it seems like the spider was looking at the camera, that's because she was. Jumping spiders are neat that way. They see well enough that they do actually watch you as you go about your business.

The fabric, if anyone's trying to get a sense of scale, was coarse chair upholstery. This spider was about two centimetres long (including legs). At first I thought she was a big piece of lint on the chair, but then she moved.

My reaction? Cool. A spider.

And shut up, world. I've already said that I know I'm weird.

I'm also incredibly tired, and I'm planning to leave in a matter of minutes. The work day started at 6 am this morning, and since I haven't had a lunch break that means my day is almost over.

Bye then.





And goodbyyyyye spider...

Something

I'm not entirely sure what. It was a busy morning, and I haven't really had time to think of anything.

What do you think of today's pointless photo, by the way? Not too shabby for a hand-held macro on an autofocus camera, if I do say so myself.

I like my little camera. It's fun.

I got a few shots of a fairly large jumping spider on a chair in the theatre this morning, but I haven't had time to pull them off the camera to see if they're any good. I'd like them to be, both because it was the largest jumping spider I've ever seen (although, remember that I'm in Canada and the jumping spiders don't really get all that big here) and because I haven't got a decent picture of a jumping spider yet. They're my favourite spider group, but since they're so usually active and curious it's hard to get them to pose.

Especially for a hand-held macro on an autofocus camera.

Let's see... what else?

Well, a little more sleep happened last night than has been happening as a rule, but the apartment's still ridiculously hot and I'm getting kind of tired of it. Unfortunately, being tired of it doesn't change anything.




Eh... so far, so boring. Surely I have another something hiding in my brain? I could tell you that the freaks have had a very entertaining morning, what with the Emmy nominations coming out and all. Of course, hiatus freaks are generally entertaining anyway. They pretty much illustrate the phrase grasping at straws, since every spoiler (no matter how unlikely) is dissected to skeletal remains, every casting rumour is cheered &/or mourned, and every photograph... well, god help us all if there are photographs, really. Visual reminders that the actors still exist and are, at this very moment, working on new episodes that will start airing in X weeks, Y days, and Z hours? That's enough for a total freak meltdown.

Is it evil of me to find it all so bloody amusing?

Well, we all need hobbies. Theirs is to freak, and mine is to watch them.

Anyway, I obviously haven't come up with much in the way of topic so I think I'll just quit here before things get silly. Tomorrow's a stupidly early start to the work day, so depending on how much of a mood that leaves me in I may or may not post.

See you whenever, then.

Wha?

Sleep update:

Combine a very hot apartment with a two-hour thunderstorm/downpour and you get ALMOST NO SLEEP. I'm headed down the Road to Useless in a big hurry, folks, and I'm actually thinking of going home for the rest of the day.

I have the overtime. I'm allowed.

Anyway. Remember that thing I said a few days ago about wolf spiders carrying their egg sacs? Well, today's pointless photo is of a thin-legged wolf spider I saw out in the sanctuary this morning. Get a load of that egg sac. Imagine hauling that thing around with you everywhere you go.

Kind of neat.

And that's all I've got for today. I hope you enjoyed it, because I likely won't even be able to recall it in an hour or two.

So sorry... did you want some?

They're all gone now, I'm afraid.

I just thought I'd let my two fans know that one of my favourite things in the world is fresh garden peas.

No reason.

You should have seen the non-reaction from my father when I took this photo, though. I think he's given me up for completely weird.

Ah well. Had to happen eventually.

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That, boys and girls, was the sum total of sense you can expect in this blog post. Sad, isn't it? We (me 'n alllll the voices) are blaming lack of sleep today, but not for the usual reasons. The father figure had to take someone to emergency last night (don't worry -- I still have all my fingers. My uncle, on the other hand, has a newly-prescribed course of antibiotics), and as a result sleep didn't really happen until one in the morning. It's hard to stop listening for the car to pull in, as I'm sure you know.

This all wouldn't have been a big deal except for the fact that the dog has declared herself the family alarm clock lately. So much for using the days off to attempt actual rest.

I have a feeling that she was trying to get my father back for leaving, the spiteful thing. I took care of the evening routine last night since I didn't know how long they'd be at the hospital, and it sent Dogbreath into an immediate snit. She's such a daddy's girl, that dog. I've talked before about the monumental pouts she'll put on when I'm housesitting here, and last night she went straight into petulant mode the moment my father left without her.

Makes me feel sooo valued.

Anyway, I'm too tired to even attempt to put together a thought because of all of this and I'm not actually in the mood to bother. See you tomorrow, when the theme of the day will probably be I've got nothing.

What can I say? I do predictable well.

Facing up

What? It's the only face I had handy on the nerdstick.

Well, that's what I get for trying to make sense out of pointless photos, I suppose.

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For a variety of weird reasons, Facebook's come up a lot in my life lately. The reasons qualify as weird mostly because I'm not on Facebook. Yet. I imagine it's only a matter of time, though, since a person can't avoid the invitations forever.

That's right, folks. I actually have people who want to be my friend.

Shocking, I know.

It's also a bit confusing, because I've made no secret about the fact that I like the feeling of anonymity I get on the internet. The whole Facebook thing, you have to agree, is pretty much the extreme opposite of internet anonymity.

Not that I really believe I'm anonymous on the internet, of course. I'm not stupid. I've left enough hints 'round and about that if you really wanted to track me down it wouldn't be very hard. However, there's a pretty big difference between aimlessly blathering on a blog under a thinly-veiled assumed name and coming right out and saying "Hey, cyberworld! This is me! I'm HERE! Talk to me!!!!!".

The thought's a little scary to someone who spends most of her life wishing there was a way that she could live full-time in a metaphoric hole and still manage to find the coin to buy groceries.

Besides, what if I joined up and nobody liked me?







Ok, kidding about that last bit. As I mentioned, I do have a couple of friend-invitations already. It's almost too bad, in a way. I'd take somewhat of a perverse pleasure out of being the only person on Facebook with absolutely no friends at all.

And shut up, world. I know I'm strange.

So, what to do? If I set myself up a Facebook account and actually start (*gasp!*) networking, does that mean that I am, by choice, associating with other people? If that's the case, then I think my head might explode from the unfamiliar sensation.

That's messy, you know. Little bits of loner-brain all over the 'net...

There's another problem I predict, as well. You see, if I were to start in with Facebook I realise that there's absolutely no point in doing it as deeol. No one (well, except possibly Wheat) in my work environment thinks of me as deeol. My family, old friends, people I went to school with... none of them know what a deeol is. I would have to 'fess up to being myself.

Kind of frightening, that.

But... it would mean that the blog could stay as it is. See, if I was going online as me rather than internet-me, then internet-me would still have this place to play in pseudoanonymity.

That wouldn't be so bad, I guess.

Ah well. Time will decide it in the end. One of these days I won't be able to resist clicking on that tempting ol' invitation list, and I'll find myself immersed in yet another unnecessary timewaster.





Yeah. Welcome to my life.

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One last thing, before I look for some lunch. This blog is pretty cool.

Now go find something else to do. I'm hungry.

Pointless lost thought of the day:

I hate it when I have something in mind for the blog but by the time I actually get to the blog I've forgotten what it was.

I also hate being bitten by a mosquito while in the bathroom. There's something unfairly defenceless about the whole thing.

I do like this photo, though.

You know, sometimes sitting down and starting to type will remind me of what my topic was supposed to be, but I can already tell that it's not going to work today. Am I allowed to blame that whole Sunday-as-Friday thing again, or was that only good for last week?

Going now.

Pointless cranky of the day:

It was 30C in my apartment when I left to go to work. That's after keeping the french doors open all night. It's supposed to be 33C outside today, so obviously the apartment won't be getting any cooler.

This all makes me cranky.

It makes me even crankier that I'm leading a walk this evening. Early evening, so it'll still be stupidly hot. The people who've signed up for the walk will be cranky because they're stupidly hot, and I'll be cranky because I'm already cranky that it's stupidly hot.

Gah.

You might take it that I don't care for heat.

And if anyone out there dares to say that at least it's a dry heat, you're looking at a smack upside the head. I promise you.

Hey, there's a spider. Just a sec.







Thin-legged wolf spider. Pardosa sp. They're pretty common around here. Cool anyway. They're not web builders, and they carry their egg sacs on their spinnerets rather than depositing them. I should have a drawing of that somewhere or other on this computer.

Erm...

Where was I?

Oh, complaining about the heat. Which, of course, changes nothing.

Let's end with that sketch instead, then. Pardosa with egg sac, from a photo I took of one on my father's pond liner. Done in Wolff's carbon pencils, which have to be one of the most sensuous inventions ever when it comes to art supplies. I mean it. Those things are like Callebaut, baby.

They probably don't taste nearly as good, though.

Oh, one more thing before I end this particular blather. I thought you should know that today's pointless photo (the photo, not the sketch) wasn't exactly pointless for a change. Did everybody get it?

If not, you can always click on the picture and look at the title. You know, if you're into the whole spell-it-out-for-me thing at all.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

So, happy Friday the thirteenth. Is everyone completely panicked yet?

You might have gathered from the question that I don't exactly suffer from fear of the thirteenth (or thirteens in general, for that matter). I have more important things to be irrationally afraid of. Things like making telephone calls, for example. Or being burned by curling irons. Or touching fish.

Yes, touching fish.

And shut up, world. Phobias, by definition, are allowed to make no sense. If you were afraid of things that made sense to be afraid of, you wouldn't have irrational fears. Would you?

I might not be worried about Friday the thirteenth, but I will say I find it somewhat amusing that it's come so quickly on the heels of what some considered to be the LUCKIEST DAY IN THE UNIVERSE!!!!!

That'd be 07/07/07, for those who weren't paying attention.

I'm afraid (but not irrationally) that I don't really go in for believing in luckies and unluckies. I don't have lucky numbers (I have favourite numbers, but that's a little different). I don't carry around lucky keepsakes. Keepsakes, yes, but because they're keepsakes. I don't fool myself into thinking that they have any luck about them.

Ok, so I do have this gold-dipped scorpion (uh huh, I know) that I used to take along to my exams in university. I didn't do it for luck, though. I did it for company.

I don't mean to sound uppity to those of you who might actually buy into the whole concept of luck, but I would be curious to know why you believe in it. Is it something that you have concrete proof of? Is it wishful thinking? Or is it, maybe, a tiny bit of OCD manifesting itself?

Obviously I don't know. Then again, I'm the type of person who would plan to get married on a Friday the thirteenth just to annoy people/freak people out. Married under a ladder. With, naturally, a black cat as a ring-bearer...

Sounds like fun, actually. Anyone want to give it a go?

Well, you can think about it. I need to get back to work. Maybe if I'm lucky it'll involve stepping on cracks or breaking mirrors or something.

Hey, if you're going to tempt fate you may as well do it big, right?

Ginormous

You'll have to excuse... well, possibly this entire post. I'm breaking in a new ankle brace today, and it's making me cranky.

How's that for a disclaimer?

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The pointless photo, as usual, has nothing to do with the title. Or anything, really. Sorry, I just got back from (not) answering another weird nature question, and I think I may be even crankier now. Let's try again, but this time we'll stick to the reason for the title.

You've probably heard that ginormous is one of the words that's been added to the latest edition of the Merriam-Webster dictionary, along with sudoku, Bollywood, and a bunch of others. Google it yourself if for some reason you haven't already heard this very exciting "news" story. I'd be surprised if you hadn't, though. It's the kind of thing that gets picked up by almost every media source when they're looking for a quick and upbeat way to end the newscast.

I don't have a problem with that kind of in other news moment. I know it sounds like I do, but... cranky, remember?

I do, however, have a problem with the yearly guess-what-silly-thing-we're-doing-now press release from whatever dictionary company is feeling the loneliest. Or, more properly, I have a problem with the people who get sucked in by what's really nothing more than an advertising ploy.

Every time a list like this is released, anyone with the intelligence of a bucket of noodles can predict that SOMEONE in the media will get all indignant and start complaining about the end of the English language as we know it. That annoys me. It annoys me because these self-appointed arbiters of language appear to have no knowledge of how language actually works, and it annoys me because it implies that dictionaries are somehow supposed to be judge and jury as to what's acceptable or (urgh) proper in a language.

That may have been true in Dr. Johnson's day, but (in the world of English, at least) we left that all behind us the first time someone printed a definition of the word fuck, folks.

Now, I'm not saying that the average desk-reference dictionary doesn't exhibit clear signs of censorship, or at least of omission. It has to, unless you want your entire office taken up by dictionary. Things have to be left out, and the first things to go are either expletives (although I think more of them make it in nowadays for the sheer titillation factor. Who here hasn't looked up the naughty words right away when buying a new dictionary?) or ephemera. Words that likely won't be around long, I mean. Neologisms, casual slang, that sort of thing. When you haven't got room for a lot of words, you stick to the ones that people may actually want to look up two or three years down the road.

It makes sense.

That's why these look-at-me lists of new dictionary words are so pointless. They may make a few people more interested in the dictionary itself, they might possibly intrigue a word-nerd like Yours Blatheringly as a reflection of the current state of popular language... but for the most part they're just there to irritate people who think that English has already purchased the handbasket and is planning a very warm holiday.

I'm sorry, but people like that tend to piss me off.

Language is organic. It's used by living beings, and it acts like a living being. It adapts. It changes. It sends out pseudopods into new areas, and lets old usages atrophy. It isn't better or worse or whatever than in our great-grandparents' day; it just is. And as long as it's functional, it continues to be. When it stops functioning, it ceases to have a purpose and dies.

Language doesn't belong in a museum case.

I should get back to work, but let me just end by saying that yes, I have been known to use the word ginormous. I'm usually being silly when I do it, but there you are. Do I think it will remain in the dictionary? I'd guess not, but in the end it just depends on whether it proves to be useful. Either way, it's certainly not worth having a fit over. Ironic that I just did then, don't you think? Ah well, that's what you get when you cranky-post.

Geez

I was certainly long-winded about nothing yesterday, wasn't I?

That takes extra EXTRA special talent, you know.

The sad thing is, on that particular topic I can go on for hours. Hours and hours, without even meaning to. Gee, do you think that some of us need more important things to fill our brains with?

Ah well. Brain's pretty much empty today as it is, so don't expect a repeat. As usual I'm not sleeping especially well, and the sad thing is that with the hot weather we're expecting in the next while I don't expect to be sleeping much more. No air conditioning in the apartment, you see. I could rent the place out as a turkish bath at times like these.

Considering the amount of sleep I've had I did all right at the work thing this morning, but I foresee an afternoon of I can't make my brain function. I told Wheat that I may just need to take a nap under the desk, if it comes to that.

He said he'd be ok with it.

Anyway. I guess this all leads to yet another day of I've got nothing, so I might as well end here. I'll leave you with a slightly disturbing thought, though. Disturbing to me, anyhow. I've been thinking about a few things lately, and it occurred to me that I may have finally figured out what it is that I want to do with my life. Better late than never, right? Well, not necessarily. Not when it would mean a pretty massive change that's completely incompatible with my being the Queen of Inertia. That, and the fact that I'm an obsessive little freak....

Sigh.

At least it's nice to know that I have a (slight) dream, even if I'll never do anything about it. Now I can be aimless with a purpose.

Ooo... pretty...

Do you think that there's such a thing as intrinsic beauty? Is there a beauty out there somewhere that all humanity would be able to agree is beautiful?

I'm not sure.

When you look at art history, you find out in a hurry that standards of beauty change not only from culture to culture but from time period to time period. All it takes is an image search for rubenesque, for example, to discover that what once was considered beautiful in a woman's form is today considered grotesque by most... well, I was going to say people, but maybe the truth there is more by most advertisers and fashion designers.

Incidentally, I more or less misused the word grotesque there. Poor thing's becoming synonymous with gross in everyday conversation, which is a shame. It's a perfectly good word on its own, you know. It originally just referred to art inspired by the art found in excavated Roman rooms that became known as the Grottoes... oh, but you can google it for yourself if you're interested in that sort of thing. I'm too lazy today.

I think about aesthetics probably more than I should, but the whole area fascinates me. In particular, I've been trying to figure out how my own personal ideas of what's beautiful have developed over the years. My tastes are, I think, a little unusual by some peoples' standards, so the figuring out part is occasionally very entertaining.

For me, anyway. You're probably already bored out of your skull with this line of blather.

Too bad. My house, my rules.

My idea of what's beautiful relies pretty heavily on shape, pattern, and functionality. That last generally takes a bit of explaining, but the short version is that I find beauty in well-put-together forms that suit their jobs perfectly. Big fan of the elegant solution, yes. And comparative anatomy.

Yeah, don't all shout FREAK! at once. I know it's a little weird. It does, however, explain the number of pointless invertebrate photos you see here. There are few better examples of form following function. Insects and spiders are truly amazing machines, as you find when you take the time to really watch them work.

The pattern and shape thing is a little harder to figure out. I mean, everyone has certain shapes and patterns that they find pleasing, but the why of it isn't the easiest thing to come by.

I think a large part of it may be familiarity. Our brains are hardwired to recognise patterns. It's how we work; how we navigate. A recognisable pattern, then, may create a feeling of well-being because it helps the brain confirm to itself that... oh hell, let's go with the cliché and say that all's well with the world. That shape computes. It must be good, then. Carry on.

The more obsessive brains out there (e.g. mine) might depend upon pattern recognition to keep from going into an insecure panic. In that case, pattern becomes something more than familiar. It's comfort. It's something to hold on to in order to stop the world from becoming overwhelming.

It becomes beautiful out of necessity.

Or not. I'm really just taking out of my pseudophilosophic arse this morning, in case you hadn't noticed.

Still, I think it's worthwhile to take a little time and think about what's beautiful to you (and why). I've been talking about looks here, but there's so much more to beauty than just looks. And, like it or not, we as a species attach a lot of importance to beauty. Examine what's beautiful to you and you just may learn a thing or two about your values that you didn't realise before.

We'll (me and alllll of the voices, yep) end on a slightly less highfalutin' note, I think. Yesterday the weather was kind of crummy, and I didn't get a chance to take the usual weekly quota of pointless yard photos. Expect photo dregs for this next little while.

I also didn't take the cat out on his leash, and he certainly let me know it every time I passed the door. You'll have to imagine this (the annual Max shot take through the back door's screen) with a soundtrack of indignant howling at the stupid human who doesn't seem to be able to figure out that the CAT WANTS OUT no matter how many ways he tries to translate it for her.

Humans. Who'd have 'em?

Pointless whatever of the day:

I don't really have anything today. The music's playing, the laundry's spinning, and I'm eating cheezies.

None of that should affect blogging, I know, but I still don't really have anything.

I was thinking of going on for a bit about the stupidity of holding massive concerts to raise awareness about global warming and then thinking it's ok that the concerts themselves caused damage... because of course they've bought carbon credits to offset whatever problems they may have caused (or at least added to). I was thinking of going on about it, yes, but I don't have the energy to bother.

Somewhat ironic, I suppose.

I do wonder, though, how much paper was wasted by having people sign environmental pledges that won't exactly be checked up on...

Ah well.

In other news, it's been raining (again), so Wheat should probably go and change the trail conditions note I put up on Saturday. The trail was finally passable for the first time in nearly two months, but I'd be willing to bet that it's not as of yesterday night.

Remember back a few years ago when I was complaining of drought? Yeah, well, not so much now.

I think I'm done for the moment. Back to the cheezies, then.

When Sunday is Friday

Before I begin: yes, the pointless photo is not in its original state. Stupid photoeditor games, remember?

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So here I am, at work on a Sunday. This is, in fact, the last day of my work week (thus the post title), so I'm allowed to think of it as Friday even if it isn't.

In some ways it doesn't feel like a Friday, though. For one thing, on a real Friday there are usually far more staff members in the building. I'm often the first one in (unless I'm working the late shift like I did this week), but not too long after I get here the rest of the crew starts to trickle in.

On a Sunday I'm the first one in by about an hour and a half, since my work day's a bit longer than that of my weekend coworker (no, I'm not going to explain that). Note how I said coworker and not coworkers? Yep, the office end of the building is a big, empty space on weekends. Occasionally, that means I get more work done because there's less going on back here to distract me.

Today?

Whaddya want. Today's Friday.

Besides, I'm programming today. Makes me a little less ambitious about the paperwork side of my life.

It just occurred to me that none of you is likely to give a rip about any of this.

Ah well.

I suppose some people might be bothered by the thought of being alone in a fairly isolated building for hours at a time, but I kind of like it. I don't usually get spooked by weird noises (and really, the weirdest noise in this office is generally that made by the snake shifting around in its case behind me. Once you get used to that, no worries), and I've been around this place long enough to have a sense of security about it.

A false sense of security, maybe, but I can live with that. Besides, being alone in the building means by definition that there's no one around to annoy me.

Erm... not that the people I work with annoy me. I just tend to prefer my own company, that's all.

We're going to have to talk about the whole loner thing sometime, aren't we? I mean, on this blog. It was discussed ad nauseum on the old one, but if a new blog isn't an excuse to rehash old topics I don't know what is.

Anyway, since I'm at work I really should be, you know, working. Break's over, I suppose.

Happy Friday.

Pointless I forgot to blog of the day:

I forgot to blog.

That must be worth a mayfly on a screen, right? Good thing I just happened to have one on my nerdstick, then.

Well, a picture of one anyway.

Having a real mayfly on the nerdstick would probably be messy when it came to jamming it into the USB port.






You've probably already guessed that I have nothing today, right? Nothing except a fairly strange photo of a mayfly on a screen.

There should be a song in that somewhere, but I'm just not quite getting it at the moment. Later, then.

Pointless spider photo of the day:

Another crab spider, yes. The posture's pretty typical, and it's because she saw movement when I aimed the camera on her. Crab spiders are ambush hunters rather than web builders. They'll sit on a leaf or on a flower (or on a rock, if you're judging by this one) with their first couple of pairs of legs outstretched, and when an insect flies close enough it gets grabbed.

Thus endeth the spider moment of the day.

Thus endeth pretty much everything else, too. I've been pretty wordy the past little while (and still managed to say exactly nothing. That, my friends, takes true talent) so I've decided that I'm excused from lengthy blather today.

You're welcome.

Pointless late post of the day:

I've said before that once I get past a certain point of the day I just don't feel like attempting to blather. The funny thing is that since I'm working the late shift today and it's just after meal time I should feel like it's my regular time to post. After all, what's the difference between posting just after eating lunch and posting just after eating supper?

A lot, apparently.

My excuse at the moment is a sore knee (yes, it affects my blathering ability. And shut up, world) and the fact that me 'n the sore knee went around the 4 km trail today so we're both tired.

Oh, and it's above 30C out there.

Tired, sore, and sweaty.

AND... I have a headache.

Have I whinged enough yet? Thought so.

On to the pointless photo of the day, then, which features a crab spider of some sort (in scientific terms: Thomisidae, sp. unknown) on a shrubby cinquefoil flower, which my new Plants of Alberta tells me is Dasiphora floribunda. This is a bit confusing to me, because when I was in school and larnin' about them thar plants it was known as Potentilla fruticosa. And for the plant nerds out there: yes, that does mean I'm old.

Shut up.

I'm not afraid to come out there and thwack you young 'uns, you know.

Sorry. It seems that my inner hillbilly granny is coming out to play today. Who knew I even had an inner hillbilly granny?

Remember back in elementary school when they introduced us to scientific binomial nomenclature (Hello, binomial nomenclature. Nomenclature? That sounds so formal. May I call you Nome for short?) and told us how important it was? That because of Nome (heh. I like that) scientists all over the world could refer to plants and animals using the same names, and it wouldn't matter what languages they spoke (the scientists, not the plants and animals)? That the name of a given species always stays the same no matter where in the literature it's mentioned?

Sooo not true when it comes to plant taxonomy.

I know it has to do partly with genetic studies causing rethinking in classification, and partly with international agreement on which synonyms to dump, and partly with which direction the wind was blowing last Friday the Thirteenth (ok, maybe not the last one), but when you're an OLF with a cataloguing fetish it's a little frustrating that the pseudolatin names you've grown to know and love (not really kidding there) change with every new book you buy.

Ah well.

Tired, sore, and headachy, remember? What better excuse to complain about botanical classification?




Yeah, yeah, whatever.

*sigh*

I'd like to say that I have a lot of exciting things to say about my days off. I'd like to, but what I have instead of anecdotes is less than three hours of sleep. No real reason for that either, which always makes it incredibly frustrating. Right now my head hurts and I can feel myself headed rapidly to the part of the day where I become increasingly non-functional.

The problem is that I'm supposed to be functional. I have things that need doing.

Sigh.

In other news (and to add to the general urgh of the moment), lunch is definitely not sitting well. Too tired and spinach salad apparently don't mix. I don't think there's much of anything that would have sat well today, though.

So.

Um.

We could talk about the pointless photo, I suppose. I like the pointless photo, but for reasons you might not have guessed. The spider's good (it's an Elongate Long-Jawed Orb Weaver, for the other nerds out there) and the web is pretty cool even though you can't see much of it in this shot. What I like most of all, however, are the lines.

Anyone who actually pays attention to what I post here (and if so, why?) has probably noticed that I like pattern and odd details, but what might not be as obvious at first glance is that I almost always crop my shots to emphasize diagonals. For whatever reason, my obsessive little brain is very pleased by diagonals in photos. Diagonals in art, too. I could go into annoying analysis of the why, but really I'm too tired to make a helluva lot of sense as it is. Analysing my lack of sense would just make it that much more nonsensical.

If you take another look at my cropped shots, you might also notice that I'm often concentrating on the negative space rather than what would seem to be the subject. That part's not surprising if you know me in real life. I'm the type of person who generally does the harmony parts instead of the tune when singing along with the radio.

I just find it more interesting, I suppose.

Anyway, that's it for today. I'm considering climbing under the desk and taking a two hour nap. If anyone's looking for me, tell them to come back tomorrow.

Ok? Ok.

That's going to leave a mark

The pointless photo is, as usual, pointless. Plus, I was playing stupid photoeditor games yesterday. You might be seeing some slightly weird stuff here in the next little while.

And that'd be different how?

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Speaking of yesterday, if anyone's curious as to how I celebrated Canada Day I'm quite prepared to enlighten you. I took pictures of spiders and flowers, I met Osama and Idi (my uncle's kittens. He thinks they're terrorists), and at around eleven I walked down the hill in my pyjamas (what? I put on a sweater) to get a better view of the fireworks. About five thousand mosquito bites later, I walked back up the hill and went to bed.

Living the life of Riley, I am.

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As I type this I'm occasionally catching glimpses of the latest arm injury. Yep, at the moment my left forearm is sporting a 1 1/2" smudge where it contacted a hot saucepan a week or so ago. It takes a special talent to burn your forearm on a hot pot, you know. Hands or fingers are understandable, but a forearm? I'm not even going to explain how that happens.

I definitely have the stereotypical lefty's proclivity for interesting injuries.

I know I've talked about it before on the old blog, but when you've been nattering on about nothing for as long as I have it's only natural that you start to recycle your pointlessness. I guess it's just one of those days, folks. Don't stop me if you've heard this one...

I have a lot of minor scars. Some of them are from silly little mishaps, some are from more serious accidents, and a couple are admittedly from moments of complete stupidity. One of them -- on the same forearm as the recent burn, in fact -- is from a public toilet, of all places.

To repeat myself a little, it takes a special talent to create a scar in a public toilet. Especially while performing a skit. In a public toilet. No, I'm not kidding.

Have I mentioned that my job is weird?

I used to be a bit ashamed of my catalogue of scars. I mean, I'm not disfigured or anything, but the visible reminders of moments of inattention or clumsiness were embarrassing to me and I'd do my best to keep them out of view. No need for anyone else to know that I was an idiot, after all.

As I've gotten older, though, I've found myself increasingly embracing my own absurdity. May as well accept the fact that I occasionally hurt myself doing stupid things, because it's not like it's going to stop anytime soon. Besides, they make for great stories. After things like that have healed, you may as well use them to get a laugh. Makes a helluva lot more sense than obsessing over them as incidents of brain failure.

I suppose it's all part of accepting who you are, in the end. Me, I'm a reasonably intelligent person who does stupid things now and then.

In other words I'm more or less human, and I've got the scars to prove it.






Wanna see?

Oh, and if anyone's unnecessarily concerned about my burned forearm, don't be. It's sort of ironic that the injury that inspired the post's title is minor enough that I don't think it's going to leave a mark, isn't it? Yeah. Sometimes you just have to blog whatever pointless thought is banging around your brain.

I won't be around a computer tomorrow, so we'll just have to see if the Toronto office has anything more exciting going on than a minor burn.




That's quite the challenge I just issued, really. More exciting than a minor burn? Good luck with that, then.

Yes, I'm kidding. See you in a couple of days.

Stupid people

And, erm, beetle porn.

Sorry, but I couldn't help myself. Especially because this particular flower included a voyeur... yeah, I know. But at least mine's a harmless hobby.

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You'll have to excuse me while I get on my high horse for a while. It doesn't happen too often, you must admit, so I think you can put up with it for a minute or two.

Today my Google alert for spiders (and shut up, world. It's not so weird to have a Google alert for spiders when you work as a naturalist. No, really. It isn't. And did I say shut up, world already? Well, then.) picked up a story out of the States about a Brown Recluse scare in a part of the country where those particular spiders aren't common (and, in fact, can't survive the winters). I'm not going to link to the actual story because things like this are ephemeral on the web and I really hate going back into my archives and finding broken links. It's not all that important anyway.

You see, it's not the news story that ticked me off. I can understand why people might be worried about spiders that might (but probably don't) cause necrosis when they bite. What made me want to beat the monitor with my forehead was the fact that the story featured a young girl handing out Brown Recluse "information" to people and wishing for a spider-free world because spiders are gross and scary.

Ok, so it wasn't actually even that part that had me considering violence to my father's computer equipment. It was the fact that this girl was being encouraged in her wish to eliminate every spider by her mother.

Yep, that'd be the stupid person I was thinking of. This woman, because of her own fear, was proud that her daughter is scared enough of something to want to get rid of it completely.

Now, anyone who's read this blog more than once knows that I have a fondness for spiders. Believe it or not, though, the offence against all things arachnid wasn't really what was upsetting. It was hearing that in this day and age there are still people out there who would want to destroy a part of an ecosystem because they consider it -- I don't know -- evil?

Hate to break it to you, darling, but that's not the way the world works.

For me, the key part to the word ecosystem is system. Many parts working together, each with its own importance. By the way (and before I go off on a tangent that I don't need to), there's a lot of good information on that answers.com link I just added. If you don't know what an ecosystem is, please read it. It'll save me having to type unnecessary explanations, and if it stops even one person from using the word incorrectly it's worth it.

Bit of a pet peeve, yes. Makes sense, considering the business that I'm in.

It also makes sense considering that my educational background is in mammalian ecology. I spend four years studying interconnectedness in nature, and it still amazes me. No wonder, then, that when I hear someone dismissing a vital part of the system just because they think it's icky I have to wonder if they're blind or just completely moronic. It doesn't take a lot of thinking to realise that everything out there depends on something else. Usually many somethings.

I fully admit that there are things in the natural word that I don't like. Maggots squick me out. I find mosquitoes annoying. I can't touch fish (seriously. It's a little weird, considering how many things I can touch without a second thought, but there you go). I'd be thrilled if the sapsuckers would stop attacking the mountain ash in the back yard. I'm tired of the pigeons who try to nest on my balcony. Do I want to banish any of them from the planet? No, of course not.

Except maybe the pigeons.






Kidding, yes. I just wish they'd find another building to bother.

The point is, get rid of any of those things and you'd find out that you've buggered up the rest of the system. I guarantee it. You might not find out right away how you've messed things up, but you will have. Eliminate the mosquitoes and you eliminate the dragonflies and dozens of other animals that depend on them for food. Destroy the sapsuckers and there wouldn't be hummingbirds this far north (that's one of my favourite examples of interdependence, actually, because people are always pleasantly surprised to hear about it. Things flower relatively late in the spring here, and without sapsucker holes to feed from the hummingbirds probably wouldn't manage). I'm sure there's even a use for pigeons if you look hard enough.

Get rid of spiders and we'd probably all be ass-deep in the insects they normally eat. Well, more or less. You see what I'm getting at, anyway.

Wanting to destroy something because we're scared of it or don't understand it is ignorant, arrogant, and potentially dangerous to the ecosystems that we inhabit (we're not above nature, despite what some religions may teach you. We're a part of the whole thing, as we find out in a panic when we screw something up). Teaching your child to want to destroy something because it somehow validates your own fear is ABSOLUTELY UNFORGIVABLE.

Yes, that needed capitals.

I'm done now. I'll come back later to try to add some actual English grammar to this particular rant, so ignore any mistakes you might notice until then.

Oh, one more thing just because I can. I took this pointless photo yesterday, and in a way it's an odd little postscript to the beetle porn. Not all beetles get a chance to star in happy-beetle photos, as you can see. The spider is, I think, a hammock spider, but I could be wrong. Mammalogist, remember? I studied furry things.

Definitely going now. Beck's on the internet radio, and I've got some serious chair dancing to do.

Happy Canada Day, everyone.