Pointless weather-induced post

Yep, this is from the Toronto office again.

This is from the Toronto office during a storm.

Apparently tomorrow our fungus will be further snow- and ice-covered.

On the up side, that means the temperatures will be on the rise. It's been too damn cold to snow up 'til now you see.

The photo is for the Alberta office. Pattern, odd things photographed ... yep, right up her alley.

Must not make a point, must not make a point ....

If you look out the right side of our hovercraft you see the receptacle, at least in this room, for neck chains that are put on, taken off, changed about .... sounds kind've like the hokey pokey, I know.

The idea behind showing you this is to illustrate in what regard I hold some of my pieces (ohhh, now doesn't that sound all hoity-toity). Okay, I'll admit that the pendant you see on the left is my name in hieroglyphics and came all the way from Egypt so I'm partial to that one but as you can see even it gets perched rather than housed.

Why do I bring any of this up at all, you may wonder.

Well, not to make a point or anything - chiefly because this is an inappropriate time of year for pumpkins - I just wanted to mutter how glad I will be when international make-men-feel-obligated-to-buy-stuff day is over.

It's bad enough that Christmas advertising begins in October with ads designed to either have people feel obligated or lustful after diamonds and gold. Just as a side note, no, the wise men didn't carry those. You know, if there actually were any. Wise men, I mean.

What peeves me is the "and NOW reduced to $899 from a gazillion dollars". They do try to make it sound like a bargain, don't they. And how handy that prices drop specifically in December and February!

I'm guessing that it works for them or they wouldn't drone on year after year but having been in the line of fire in a real career at one point and having witnessed a buyer for a large retailer admit that jewellery is marked up a minimum of 300 per cent (yes that many zeroes) these ads make me a tad cranky. Oh and the company was facing a type of fraud charge under a business practices law.

So.

How about a handwritten note rather than a six dollar card, possibly mentioning sharing some sort of common experience; a trip to a cabin, tickets to an event you can make memories from.

I do believe all that glitters is not gold. Catchy phrase, that.

K, I'm done.

Today you get a pair

Tomorrow, a full house?

I have several shots of these two on my flash card, you know, in case you want to avoid the blog for a couple of days. Ah, but you know you couldn't even if you wanted to; you're just so hooked.

Leave me to my delusions. The voices and I are very content lately.

So .... it's minus a hundred out where the Alberta office is, I understand. I've been in touch to let her know it's five degrees and pouring rain as I type this. It's remarkable how unimpressed a person can be about a little detail like that.


I hear that our weather is taking a wee bit of a turn tomorrow though which will make it minus 25 by dinnertime.

Believing up until now that the Alberta office was a good witch who used her powers for the benefit of all, I'm now not so sure.

Enjoy the photo. It's like our weather is about to be ... for the birds.

A bird on the bell .....

First off, it makes one wonder if the neighbours might have been scratching their collective heads as to why I was taking a picture of their house as not everyone one would figure out right away there was a bird between me and them.

Today's entry is a Downy Woodpecker. Ah, yes, you may think - but how does she know it's not a Hairy Woodpecker.

What - you mean you didn't ask?! Well I'll tell you anyhow because what the heck, I'm here - you're here....

Size matters. Oh c'mon now - you didn't think this was birdy porn. I mean, it's all in the beak. The beak on these guys is not so ... er, woodpeckerish, being less protrusive (is so a word). Oh and you'll have to trust me on this point until tomorrow, yes, as clearly you can't see the beak at all at the moment.

And that is today's ornithology lesson.

Hey, guess what?!

We're expecting windchills of -40C tonight!

Yep.

And if you're wondering about the photo, let's just say that this kind of weather would have me contemplating sticking my head in the fish pond just like Max... IF THE FISH POND WASN'T SOLID ICE RIGHT NOW.

Bleah.

This kind of weather means you shouldn't be expecting to see me around the blog too much in the next while, because it's actually a bit dangerous for me to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time. Long story. Google cold induced urticaria if you don't know it.

And Wheat? I think we need to talk about how I'm going to manage to make it in for this week's programs. Seriously.

Ah well. I'm out of here. One more stop to make, and then it's full-on under the blankets mode for the rest of the day.

Stay warm, everyone.





Oh, one more thing. Do I need to slap the t.v. club around to wake them up? Check your guides, everyone. We're going from famine to feast in the next week and a half... and then back to famine again until... well, until whenever the strike is over.

Sigh.

This'll definitely be short

And I don't mean in the she says it'll be short and then she blathers on for twenty paragraphs way. I don't have a very long window of opportunity here at the keyboard before the headache sets in completely.

Yeah, I can predict my headaches at times like these.

In case any of my two fans have wondered, this is the first day in several that I've been out of the apartment. I stayed home one day because my cold (still with the cold, yes) wasn't making me feel like going anywhere, and then the next day I woke up mostly immobile because I'd slept crooked and put my neck out.

Badly.

As in, couldn't even turn my head in one direction without massive shooting pains that I'm really not going to bother describing because unless you were in my head you'd never believe it anyway.

Make your own English sentence out of the above words...

So the last couple of days featured me laid out on the bed, gooned on Robaxacet (and wishing sooo much for something stronger) and not moving unless it was absolutely necessary. Trapped in a world of whatever crap was on the television because putting a CD or DVD into the wondermachine would have involved bending down, even.

Incidentally, when I say whatever crap I really mean it. The entertainment shows seemed almost insulted that they had to interrupt their twenty-four hour Britney coverage to report on Heath Ledger. And speaking of which... LEAVE IT, idiots. His family already has enough to deal with, I'd say.

Anyway, that's all I've got. A cold, a somewhat-mobile neck, and an incipient snit because our weather's due to get reeeeeally shi not nice in the next few days.

Oh, and that's why you got a flower as pointless photo du jour. I don't want to look at winter voluntarily.

And with that, I'm out of here. Will I be back tomorrow? No freaking idea. Thanks to the Toronto office for filling in, though.

And today's silly photo

... is actually a puzzle to amuse you for, oh, what, 12 seconds or so.

Can you spot the three real birds?

This piece of .... art is in the backyard of a home backing on to the dog park.

It's something, isn't it?

And clearly, there's nothing on my mind.

So I'll go now.

Yep, toying with the camera ~ and a dog this time

Well some days I just have to amuse myself somehow. The photo is not cropped, no. It just is.

Maybe tomorrow you'll get her left eye. Er, tell me you won't look just to see if you do.

Even with the little bit of her that's visible here, you get a fairly accurate depiction of the animal. Labs are pretty laid-back you know. Well, okay, this Lab is pretty laid back.

Bailey's photos often have a bit of a blur in them. Different stock.

Yes, we learned a very valuable lesson with this set of pups as opposed to the first two we adopted. Background checks are definitely an asset and when you're told by the breeder that a pup comes from "working" stock, really do take that seriously and realize that a breeder's definition and your definition of "working" may be a tad different. It doesn't just mean they want to fetch the morning paper. Sometimes it means they want to run four hours a day or they get cranky.

Then there's the ones who pass the tilt test. Ah, yes, I have devised a most scientific test to determine if a pup should be taken home to live with me - not that this will ever come to pass again BUT if a pup just lays in your hands as you tilt her away from you, she's pretty darned docile and turns into a Duchess. Her sister squirmed and tried to right herself. I'll bet she turned into another Bailey.

The tilt test. You heard it here first.

And in my next life ....

.... I want to come back as a cat in my own house. Er, well come to think that through, it would be impossible as if I'm coming back that would mean I'm not actually here to come back to.

Yeh.

You'll notice the black blanket in the foreground; it's meant to be the Diva's comfy place to lie in the afternoon sun as it streams through the window in Smudgelette's quiet bedroom.

You'll notice where the animal is actually resting: in a fort between pillows, on the comforter that has many a duck and goose running around naked, she being covered with a flap of said comforter.

Who's spoiled?!

~
~
~
~

Is that what a hip person would call gettin' down?


Hmm, edited because I just had to note how pink her little feet still are after all these years. Now there's a cat who never had to work for her supper.

Bags

No, I don't have a picture of bags. The photos are supposed to be pointless, remember?

This will (hopefully) be short, because I'm currently in the state where (as I told Wheat) I'm not sure whether it's more important to be sucking on the lozenge to calm down the sore throat, or... well, breathe. Hard to breathe while sucking on a lozenge when your nose is stuffed.

These are the dilemmas I deal with, folks.

Anyway, bags. A couple of weeks ago I actually got excited enough about a reusable grocery bag to text Wheat about it. I know, I know, it sounds pretty weird. Bear in mind, though, that I work at a nature centre. We're trying to encourage people to stop with the plastic bag dependency as much as possible, so when a person finds a well-designed reusable bag it's something to share with the coworkers.

Ok, maybe it's not worth getting excited about, but it's still important.

Does anyone out there in my vast reading public (all two of you) bother to use reusable bags when shopping? I don't normally get preachy about things, but it's something you should all be doing. There's no excuse for the amount of plastic bags we're going through in this country, you know.

I do most of my shopping at a store where they charge you for plastic bags, so I bring my own bags just as a matter of course. I also carry a reusable bag in the belt pack I use as a purse, so I always have something available for the smaller items I might be picking up in the non-grocery stores. It gets used, too.

I'm not saying that I never use plastic bags. I have my lazy moments. I also tend to use plastic grocery bags for my garbage, so there's always a few around the house (I think it'll be a tough sell to convince people to reuse their garbage bags. Encouraging biodegradable bags, though... yeah, I should do more about that). I do, however, use my reusable bags a lot. And it's not hard, people.

All it takes is to create a new habit. Get some reusable bags. Put them in the trunk of your car. REMEMBER TO TAKE THEM INTO THE STORE. That's all there is to it.

They have their advantages, those reusable bags. They'll usually hold more without the worry of tearing. They generally have more comfortable handles. And, in the case of my new bags that caused so much excitement, they're squared-off like paper bags so they don't fall over in the car on the way home.

Wonderful things, don't you think?

I was a grocery cashier back in the dark ages when plastic bags first came in (yes, I'm old. And yes, I did actually have to ask people paper or plastic). I remember how much people hated plastic bags when they first arrived. Do you suppose it would be hard to remember that old hatred and refuse to use them now?

I don't.

And if you want to see a photo of my new bags, just let me know. I can arrange it, if you want to share the excitement.

[/not-short post. Why is it that I blather longest when I don't plan to?]

What time is it, boys and girls?

No, you're wrong. It is not Howdy Doody time.

And if that's what you said... you're OLD.

Sorry, but there's just no polite way to say that. Or maybe I should say no polite way that I'm willing to bother with. And why is that?

Because it's MASSIVE WHINGE TIME.

Or at least slightly-pissed-off mutter time. I may not have the energy to go full-on whinge. We'll see.

You know, I seem to recall reading somewhere that the average adult gets four colds a year. If that's true then some of you aren't pulling your weight, because I could swear that I'm dealing with a cold every second month. I seem to be getting one now, in fact.

Bet you couldn't have guessed from the whole massive whinge bit.

Yeah, my multi-day headache is developing into a sore throat and congestion. Neat trick, that, don't you think? Yesterday's visit to the wonderful world of the mobile planetarium (complete with dry air and the need to speak above the sound of the inflation fan) didn't help much with the throat thing, but at least I have the comfort of knowing that I've likely passed my cold directly on to the audience that was sharing the enclosed space with me.

Actually, I'm kind of sorry about that if it happens. Yesterday's audience was a decent one.

The plan for the rest of the day, then, is to stop at a store to stock up on my favourite thing about having a cold (oh, come on. You know. It *guarantees* a good night's sleep... or utter oblivion to the fact that you have a cold), a random logic puzzle magazine, and... erm... probably something to eat that doesn't come out of a can or an ice cream container. Funny thing about not feeling all that great: it tends to make you completely unenthusiastic about grocery shopping. I paid a whopping $25 for what was supposed to be my week's worth on Saturday, and apparently the cheap bill was the result of not bothering to buy anything that could be considered edible.

Let's hope I do better with try #2.

----------

Before I go, I should say that today's pointless photo does, in fact, feature a pickaxe head. Were you thinking, "that looks an awful lot like a pickaxe head"? If you were, full points to you.

Why is there a pickaxe head in the snow beside the patio light?

No idea.

That'd be another one of those ask my father questions.

There's rather a lot of those in the yard. Maybe I should make them a regular feature. Anyone up for a round of Pointless ask my father of the day?




Well, I'll think about it.

Well...

I'm at a bit of a loss here. Haven't been feeling all that great (bet you hadn't noticed), and the weather has me firmly in non-blather mode.

Those of you who live in warmer climates and think you miss winter obviously don't know the joy of trying to decide whether it would be better to hit the road now while it's snowing and icy, or whether it would be better to wait until the snow has possibly (maybe) stopped and it's become colder than a witch's youknow out there. Oh, and did I mention that the wind may or may not pick up this afternoon?

Yeah, winter? Really good times.

My head hurts.

Actually, it really does hurt.

You know... all it would take is a properly placed brick and this line of whinge would end in a hurry...





Kidding.

Mostly.

Anyway, since I've obviously got nothing let's briefly discuss today's featured flower. It's a Fredflower, since the cactus's name is Fred.

I tend to be logical that way.

Fred, for those of you who missed the Fred posts on the old blog before I deleted them, is a Schlumbergera that I've had for over twenty years. Fred used to be huge, but a few years ago it started dying off in large chunks. I wrote a post about the imminent demise of Fred, but then Fred decided at the last minute that it wasn't quite ready to have an obituary and sent out one last, wimpy little shoot to get my hopes up.

Fred, currently, is a very healthy-looking (if somewhat smaller than before) multi-branched Christmas cactus. Fred's only problem is that Fred is growing on only one side of a fairly big pot. It's a lopsided Fred these days, yes. Bit by bit it's trying to fill out, but right now it's looking more like it's had a bad haircut than anything else.

Ah well. Fits in with the rest of my life in that respect.

That's all the blather I've got. Tomorrow's blather will probably be nonexistent because (assuming the weather lets me get back into town at some point) I'll be busy with work stuff.

And probably cranky about it, but hey. All the more reason to not bother posting, right?

Pointless ... but then that's why you come here

This is to toss out the thought that spring will (insert flute and piccolo music representing hope here) arrive in no time.

Well I guess if it came in no time, it would be here and it most decidedly is not. The temperature dropped a tad overnight, to wit: hoods -yes two- and gloves & a third layer of warmth just to walk the animals in the middle of the afternoon.

The photo, by the way, is from last years Spring garden. If you've paid attention at all, you'll realize just how much rust, purple and truly odd colours I favour in my gardens. Most Astilbe in these parts is green. Yes, I have just that much talent to have found this particular plant.

And with that, I shall go unload my dishwasher for I have just that type of busy and productive life also.


Yep, still got nothin' - but then, seriously, would you want to read this if there were any actual points to be made?

Pointless... oh, whatever

I've had the headache from hell all freaking day. There's nothing I'd like better right now than to be under a blanket pretending to be dead (dead people don't have headaches, right?), but unfortunately a scout leader decided that the middle of January would be the perfect time to take the Beavers (scouts, not brown furry rodents) on an evening walk so I'm here at work.

In a little while I'll be walking with five-year-olds. In the dark. With a splitting headache.

I AM NOT HAPPY.

It's also snowing. For my thoughts on snow or even just winter in general, see pretty much every second post on this blog.

Now that I'm here at the office I'm of course starting to feel hungry. Haven't managed to make myself eat a proper meal all day, but now -- when I'm across the city from my refrigerator -- my stomach starts complaining?

Shut up. Just shut up and wait.

And on that note... I should probably get a few props out for the kids. Don't worry -- I fully intend to keep reminding myself that it's not their fault they're here in the middle of January in the dark.


[/happy fun blog post]

Me, too

.... which is to say it's all she could do to hoist herself on to the couch and I swear to ethereal beings that she tucked this paw this way and that, that way to get this comfortable. I watched it happen.

During the past two days I have done my best to emulate her due to a lack of interest in the outside world.


Hence....say it with me now ... got nothin' to blog about.

BUT she's a cool pup. And she sometimes lets me win the staring contests from couch-to-couch as we while away the day.

Pointless photo of the day:

Hey! Look! It's me!

I'm the one hiding behind the camera, if you didn't quite get it.

And yes, I am nothing more than a reflection in a car window. I bet you always suspected...

Oh, and just to forestall the comment that may be coming from the Toronto office, at least in her head: I do know that I didn't use my left hand to take the picture, yes. Cameras are part of the evil right-handed world conspiracy, unfortunately.

----------

This has nothing to do with anything (the blog is called pointless for a reason), but I was thinking this morning that I had a slightly unusual mental picture of what a family consisted of when I was a kid. In my mind, a proper family was two parents, one female child, and one male child.

That's what a family was supposed to be.

The idea comes from life, surprisingly enough. In my mother's family, every single brother or sister had a family that consisted of two parents, one female child, and one male child. Well... one of my uncles stretched that by having THREE (gasp!) children, but even then his first two were a boy and a girl.

It's sort of weird, I suppose. Five grown children in that family, and each one managed to have a boy and a girl. Or a girl and a boy. Is that some sort of statistical anomaly?

My father has two brothers. Somehow that never challenged my assumption about families... probably because both of his brothers are bachelors. No families to mess with my brain.

Did I mention that none of this has anything to do with anything? I'm on a real, honest-to-whomever blather at the moment, and I fully intend to not give it any sort of conclusion.

And besides, it's snowing. If I hang around here too long I may actually have to sweep off the car before I leave, and that would never do.

So...

Yeah. If you feel like you need more, you could always go back and look at today's pointless photo again. Personally, I rather like it.

Going now.

Way to go, morons

Hey, boys and girls, want to know the definition of no class? It's when a morning show (*coughCanadaAMcough*) sends one of their "sympathetic" anchors to go and annoy the residents of a town that's just lost a large portion of their high school basketball team to a van accident.

Way to go, morons.

Here's something that apparently is news to you, Morning Show. Anyone who's ever lost someone has a decent idea of what these people are going through. Anyone who hasn't lost someone can probably imagine what it feels like. WE DO NOT NEED to see street corner interviews with grieving classmates, teachers, or (worst of all) family members to understand what's going on there.

And yes, I turned the channel.

----------

I'm dealing with a self-created (or worsened, at least) earache at the moment so I'm probably coming off as a teeny bit cranky. Yes, it's largely my fault -- I tried to fix something that was healing nicely on its own -- but knowing it's my fault doesn't change the fact that I'm throbbing.

And cranky.

And have to sit through a meeting this afternoon.

I'm bad at meetings at the best of times. I may have mentioned the whole attention span issue? I'm good at focussing when I actually have something to do, but there are enough periods in the average meeting when I don't have something to do that the whole thing becomes an exercise in doodling or staring out the window if I'm not careful.

This, by the way, is something that doughnuts just cannot cure.

Ah well. I'm sure I'll survive (on tylenol and fantasies, no doubt). I'm not sure, however, how I feel about thinking about work-related topics so early in the year. Isn't this the season that I spend hibernating in my pyjamas? How dare these people expect me to act like a human rather than a black bear?

Sheesh.

You'd think they'd know by now, but nooo...

Pointless photo and I'm busy of the day:

It's bread. In a bush.

I don't know... ask my father.

Pointless recent photo of the day:

As of yesterday, in fact.

Yes, I did actually get out and take a few new photos.

It wasn't easy, though. Winter's so... boring. So boring that it's hard to overcome my indifference for long enough to take pictures of it.

Today's boring winter photo is of an excavated hole in an old snag that toppled over this fall. It was probably used by a woodpecker. Possibly a squirrel after that. Now it won't be used by anything except bugs, I expect. Not too many things want to nest in a hole that's now less than a foot from the ground.

Can you tell yet that I have nothing?

I was going to drone on about the textures in the tree bark and the contrast with the snow blahdiblahdiblah but I'm honestly lacking the energy to try to make an art object out of what is yet another picture of an inanimate object covered with snow.

I really hate winter.

And in case you're wondering, this is coming out on a day when the weather's pretty decent and I'm not, overall, in a terrible mood. I just find it really difficult to show enthusiasm for a dead season, that's all.

Hey, I'm a biologist by training. I like things that look alive. Give it a couple of months and I'll be boring you with pictures of every tiny green thing I can find in the yard. A month or two after that and we'll be looking at dozens of shots of the centres of flowers because they have neat patterns and I'm big on patterns.

Winter?

Winter has dead leaves and snow.

Bah.




Anyway, it's becoming painfully obvious that my usual trick of typing until something resembling a topic comes out isn't working at all today, so I think I'll leave off before the blog gets even whinier. Tomorrow's post (if any) might be short because I have something else on the go. Of course, judging by today's post that might not be such a bad thing....

Pointless photo of the day:

I've really got to shoot some new photos. This one? Pretty obviously not taken today.

Ah well.

That's all you're getting, folks, unless I feel like blathering tonight.




And I certainly wouldn't bet on that happening.

The centre of it all

Hey, I'm late.

I also still have a bit of a headache, and since my father didn't have any root beer in the cold room (the cold room is, in fact, just what it sounds like. Think of it as a root cellar without the cellar part) I'm stuck drinking citrus fizz. Now, citrus fizz is fine and all that, but when you have a headache and your heart was sort of set on root beer, it's all a little disappointing.

Anyway.

I'm going to try to keep it short today (have you ever noticed that I rarely do when I say that?), but I do have something to say about centre.

No, not Toronto. That'd be the centre of the universe, not just centre. I mean the word centre.

I've discovered that I have a fairly odd visceral reaction to the word centre. Not because of its meaning or because I'm not exactly centred myself, but because of the spelling.

Centre, you see, is one of those weird Canadian things. You'll notice (especially if you're American) that I've been spelling the word centre rather than center. Here in Canada that tends to be a personal choice. Centre and center exist side by side, occasionally eyeing each other to figure out if they're actually the same word.

They are. Metre and meter aren't the same word, but as far as I know centre and center don't differ at all except for that switched-up r and e. Those of us who favour British spellings (notice the favour there? Yeah, I'm all about adding extra u's whenever possible) tend towards centre, while those who don't will use center instead.

Why, then, did I find myself cringing (as I always do) as I drove into town and passed the Moose Lodge's Family Center on the highway? There's nothing wrong with it being a center. There are plenty of other centers in the area.

They all bug me.

It's even hard for me to type center. Erm... admittedly, that's nothing but old habit though. When I think of typing centre, the letters always want to come out in the same order that I generally use them in.

As opposed to when I type the, which at least a third of the time seems to come out as teh. Why is that?





Um, sorry. Back to topic.

Centre is somewhat of a polarising thing around here. I work at a nature centre (not center), and our related historic site has an interpretive centre (not center). A few years ago we had a staff member there who constantly spelled it center on her posters and other advertising, and we constantly had to correct her. She thought centre looked weird. We told her the name of the place included the word centre, not the word center.

Which, in fact, is true. In that case it really was part of the name of the building. It'd be like taking my own personal name -- which has tons of variant spellings (yes. That's right. You wouldn't believe how many different ways you can spell Dee...) -- and deciding to spell it another way rather than the way it's properly spelled just because you happen to like the other spelling better.

So why do I get annoyed by the Family Center and its relatives? I'm not sure, really. I can accept the whole that's its NAME argument in theory, but in practice I'm always going to be thinking why the h-e-double-hockey-sticks did they choose THAT spelling???

It's like it's... un-Canadian.

Which in itself is funny because it's not even Canadian to begin with.

And can anyone tell me why we've kept so many British spellings and yet we call tyres tires?

This country confuses me sometimes.






And so much for keeping this short. Can I predict 'em, or can I predict 'em?

Persistent

I have a headache.

I know. You're saying to yourself, "Dee has a headache? But Dee never has a headache. I wonder why Dee has a headache?"

Well, it's usually one of about three options. Maybe four, on a bad week. Pick option two today, and you'd have it.

Needless to say, it's not making me feel very wordy. And here I am, not even having a strike to blame for the lack of blatherage.

Ah, Golden Globes. My favourite drunken awards ceremony. Whatever shall I do without you?

Find something else to watch, I imagine.

Yeah, I'm easy.

----------

Let's talk about the pointless photo for just a moment, shall we? I do realise that it becomes less than pointless if I actually discuss it, but I think we can all put up with that for a second or two. I took the photo some time ago, you see, but I took it for a reason.

Persistence.

The leaves are from a weed (never, never plant creeping bellfower, boys and girls. Not that we did, but someone we got a plant from ages ago made the unfortunate mistake) that keeps trying to grow up through the side of my father's fish pond. That's why you see the rocks and the black pond liner in the picture.

I've pulled up those leaves so many times that it's almost sisyphean. The neverending task, I mean. It's not like they're really causing a problem or anything -- it's just that there aren't meant to be leaves sticking out of the side of a fish pond.

I pull the leaves; the leaves come back.

It's like a game we play, I suppose.

I could make some kind of comment here about just how incredibly tenacious life can be, or how things become so much stronger if they have to struggle... but my head hurts. You finish that thought for me, ok?

Ok then.

----------

One last thing:

I asked the Toronto office why it was that the garage (ha! Now you know! I wasn't hiding yesterday. I was just taking the car to the doctor. Don't worry, though... it was just a check up donation of funds oil change) decided to do the complimentary wash even though it was minus ten degrees Celsius outside. She suggested that it was to freeze up my locks.

The verdict?

Near as dammit, but I foiled their plans by actually managing to get into the vehicle this morning. You'll have to try harder next time, Service Department O' Evil.

And yay me.





I'm going now, all right?

All right.

Truly pointless

... and you want to know why? This photo was taken on January 1st 2008 and photographically it's a decent enough shot.

Today is the 8th, however and the temperature hit 15 degrees C this afternoon.

Oh, the pointless part: I'm going to leave this photo here because it's far more attractive than the swamp the park has turned into.

/pointless post

But you can hang around and look at the pretty boughs if you like.

Takes a bough. And leaves. Well, technically, there ARE no leaves in January ...

Er, yeh. Going now. Got nothin' ....

Pointless dragonfly of the day:

We haven't had one for a while.

That, and I haven't taken many pictures lately. Winter doesn't exactly create enthusiasm in Yours Blatheringly.

And on that note...




No, I'm serious. I've got a whole whack o' nothing, and I'm not in the mood to try to force anything out. If the Toronto office has anything more to say she's welcome to it. I'm outta here.

Pointless photo of the day:

Well, as usual on a Sunday I've gone and fiddled the whole morning away.

I got a pretty good score, though.

Now I'm more interested in finding something to eat than blathering, so you're going to have to make do with the photo.

There are a few things posted on the old blog if you're desperate for reading material. If you're not, just pretend that I ended with the comment about the photo.

One bottle pop

Go on, sing. You all know it.

Or for those of you who honestly don't... knock yourself out.

Oh, and do I need to say that the pointless photo is completely pointless? No? Hey, you're catching on.

It amuses me/drives me nuts to see just how heated people on the internet (and, sadly, in real life as well) can get about what to call soft drinks. If you want to start a pages-long argument, go to almost any chat room or bulletin board and "innocently" ask if it should be pop or soda. People honestly get passionate about it. I've seen it happen more than once.

Pop. Soda. What's the difference? It's going to rot your stomach no matter what you call the stuff.

Nowadays, of course, the debate gets a regional or even international flavour because of the internet. While the majority of North Americans yell at each other over pop and soda, pity the poor Brit who chimes in with fizzy drink or the Southerner who suggests coke...

Incidentally, I get a bit ticked off by people who razz those who call soft drinks cokes. Does anyone get jumped on for calling a tissue a kleenex or a vacuum flask a thermos? Didn't think so.

The whole thing even had its own survey. And you just know that things are important when they have their own surveys, don't you?

Don't get me wrong. I find the different usages interesting; just not earth-shattering. Language fascinates me, and a big part of what fascinates me is how a single language grows, adapts, and evolves as it spreads. It's cool. It's entertaining. The part I don't get is why it all seems to MATTER SO MUCH to some people.

It's almost a religion, picking apart others' usages. "You say pop? Well, you're obviously not a believer (otherwise known as one of us)." It's almost as big a sin as calling grilling barbecuing.

Which, actually, we all do in this neck of the woods.

And we drink pop, for the most part.

And all that really does in the end is give you a hint as to where I'm from. It doesn't brand me as right, or ignorant, or anything but an Albertan (which in some circles brands me in a different way, but that's a topic for another time).

Regionalisms are fun if you look at them only as examples of how language is used in different areas. If you use them as a reason to tease -- or worse, a reason to get ticked off -- then... well, I'd suggest that maybe you need to grow up a little.

In the meantime, I think maybe I'll go get some milk.

Not a huge fan of the fizz, myself.



And if you're wondering if this is what I was planning to talk about yesterday, you can keep wondering. It's not like I'm going to tell you at this point in the post. Surprised? I wouldn't be.

Pointless quick pic of the day:

Ok, so I suppose technically the icicle does, in fact, have somewhat of a point. I don't care.

I'm in a bit of a pickle right now because I actually have something to say but no time to say it. Here's the deal, then: I'll try to remember what it was I had to say and come back later tonight. In the meantime, enjoy the photo.

What's really going to happen, of course, is that I'll forget what I was going to say entirely and then I'll just be back here tomorrow ranting about the fact that I've forgotten what I was going to say.

Ah well. In the meantime, enjoy the photo.




Oh, shut up. I know I said it already.

I have a headache, part II

The part II is something to do with the fact that I have to go feed snakes and salamanders, so this'll be even shorter than it was yesterday.

I am too, probably. Don't we all get shorter with age?

I have chinook head in a bad way, folks. For those not in the know, the weirdness that is the chinook wind (and the pressure system that goes with it) causes some of us out here in Sunny Alberta to believe that our heads are trying to explode.

Or at least it sure feels like that's what's trying to happen.

To top it off, chinook head has apparently taken away my ability to dress myself. It took me FAR too many tries to get my coat on before I left today (who the hell invented double zippers anyway? Does anybody ever actually NEED to undo her zipper from the bottom? I mean, seriously?), and when I went to put my feet into my slip-on boots I realised that something didn't feel right. Looked down to find that I'd put on one boot and one shoe. From different pairs, yes. Pairs that aren't even next to each other in the closet.

I have no idea how that works.

Anyway, off to the critters.





Oh, one more thing. Nice to see the Worldwide Pants late night shows back (and with their writers), but Dave? The strike beard? You looked startlingly like an off-season Santa. The scary kind that smells like stale cigarettes and coffee and scowls at kids when they stare. I'll be looking forward to the grand shaving.

I have a headache

And no, Smudgers, it's not the same headache I had yesterday.

That was a different headache.

Today's headache is, as best I can tell, courtesy of yesterday's windstorm (or maybe the new weather system that's moved in behind it). Changing pressure never seems to sit well these days.

Yes, I'm getting old and creaky. Next thing you know I'll be predicting storms with my joints.

I'm tempted now to use a line from the new office calendar (since it would mean I didn't have to think) and just say Whatever, you moron.

Take that as you want to, I guess.

And I should remind everyone who's wondering why I have a calendar that says Whatever, you moron that it is, in fact, the Toronto office who provides the yearly calendar.

Or at least tells me what to buy.

I always do what I'm told, you know.

The funny thing about calendars (considering that I am, in fact, a bit of a calendar freak) is that I completely forgot to buy myself a calendar for the apartment. I have very bare spots where the calendars should be as of yesterday, so I'm off to remedy that situation.

I think I'd go squirrelly without at least one wall calendar.

There are some who think I'm squirrelly anyway, but to them I say Whatever, you moron.





Hmm. Handy phrase, that.

Anyway, I'm off.



And shut up, Wheat. It's not too early in the year to contemplate stabbing you in the shins, really.

~~*Happy 2008*~~ to all who enter here.