Oh, this sounds nice enough

Ok, this is me (briefly -- gotta get back to work soon) harping on the same string yet again, but people. You really have to do better with your choices in background music. They're driving me nuts.

The most recent culprit? The Late Show. I'd been looking forward to what Dave had to say about Paul Newman, because I knew that he admired him and that they had a bit of a history. Well, it was nice. Hit all the right notes and sounded genuine. They also, as I expected, had a video montage of the various Newman appearances on the Late Show (if you hit the Late Show link today you'll find it right on the home page). All good, right?

No, dammit.

How on earth could they pick such a completely inappropriate song to use as a background? I mean, did anyone bother to actually read the (more than a little bit sexual) lyrics, or did they just say "that's a pretty song. Let's add it."

Geez. Am I really the only person out there who thinks about this kind of thing?

Anyway. I do need to cut this short, so I'll leave you with a link to the Newman's Own tribute. It's good.

And how's the music?

A lot less mind-boggling, at least.

I dunno

I'm tired. I'm more than a bit cranky. I'm sore from being on my feet too much in the last couple of days, and I still have one more program to do this afternoon.

Still figuring on blather, anyone?

Yeah, didn't think so.

No promises for the next couple of days either. I'm going to be kind of busy.

And, no doubt, tired.





And I think you can bet on cranky as well.

I'm not posting today.

No, really. I'm not.

This'll be quick

I'm at work, and I need to finish my lunch before it's time for my afternoon program.

Two things, then:

1. Yes, the lanyard was at home. Of course it was. With the nerdstick attached, even.

2. Everyone and his dog will be blogging about Paul Newman in the next little while, I suppose, and no wonder. The man was class. And those eyes... um, yeah, and he was a heck of an actor as well. I don't have time to search for a proper clip just now to prove it, so I'll let you do that for yourselves. In the meantime, though, enjoy the music at least.

I'm done now.

Pointless photo of the day:

I've left my nerdstick at home, so you're getting a photo from my work files. It's a hornworm. It'll turn into some kind of sphinx moth, but since we have over twenty species of sphinx moths in Alberta I really don't know which sphinx moth it happens to be.

Did you notice the part where I said I left my nerdstick at home? What I should have said is that I hope I left my nerdstick at home. I generally have it on a lanyard around my neck, and I keep the lanyard under my shirt so it doesn't annoy me. Went to reach for the nerdstick just now and... no lanyard. No lanyard at all.

I must have forgotten to put it on.

I'm pretty sure I just forgot to put it on.

You know I'm going to worry now, though. I have to. It's all part of being an OLF.

Ah well.

Thanks once again to the Toronto office for the past couple of days' blather. My own personal blather will be short today because A) I am, and B) I'm pretty sure I just forgot to put the lanyard on.

Yes, it makes sense in my brain.




Later, folks.

Oh, one thing before I go back to not checking for the lanyard: can anyone tell me why someone would type the phrase how much is 157 cm compared to a dog into a search engine? Yeah, I didn't think so. I get some weird hits sometimes...

Pretty darned humid, that's what

And yet for you, gentle readers, I schlepped down the road to take these photos because - well, because they're pretty. And it's Autumn already. Notice I didn't say "Fall". Fall has many negative connotations for me; some of those connotations even include weather and/or change of season as opposed to the kind that includes chiropractic care.


And so, have another. I'm feeling generous today.



These flowers are on the same five-foot-high shrub and if you look realllly carefully, you can see the top one off to the right of this one, thus proving M'Lord that they are indeed one and the same shrubbery.

Hey. Cool name for a blog maybe.

Oh and this flower has a cream-filled surprise!

Really, now. If you didn't get that obscure reference, you don't watch enough animation.

Er, was going to edit or add a comment but on second thought, Alberta will get the purpose of these photos ... you know, with your obsession with patterns and blah-di-blah. ;) Really I should just delete this stuff in small print then, shouldn't I. Yeh.

No water spout in sight

This, of course, is for the owner of this place. She likes this sort of thing, I understand. Now, mind, she also doesn't mind snakes but since it's not a snake I found dangling from the roof of the carport.....



Of course if I had found a snake dangling from the roof of the carport, the scream would have been heard wherever you are as you read this.

No, seriously. It would have.

Yesterday? Words. Today? Not so much.

Yeah, I've got nothing.

Well, I do have a few four-letter thoughts, but I think I'll keep them to myself. Or maybe just tell Wheat. And possibly the Toronto office...

Oh, and speaking of the Toronto office, the blog's hers tomorrow (and possibly the next day) if she's in the mood.







That's me done for now, then. Later, all.

And the Emmy goes to...

Not the Emmys, that's for sure.

Good freaking Whomever that was dull.

Take five lame hosts, add many, many equally lame non-comedy bits, and even Ricky Gervais can't stop the train wreck.

Not that he didn't come close, mind.

Seeing that I watch more for the outfits than the awards, I really could have stopped watching after the red carpet.

Speaking of which...

Marcia Cross was wearing a faded doily over a 1950s prom dress, Rita Wilson was wearing... well, what the hell was she wearing... Oprah Winfrey (who, and this may surprise those who seem to think she can do no wrong, annoys the snot out of me) dressed in the dark, Kristen Chenoweth has cleavage (who knew? Well, all of us do now), Julia Louis-Dreyfus' cleavage was crooked (too bad. Nice dress, otherwise. Someone should have told her to adjust), January Jones forgot to put on her dress and showed up in her lingerie, Jennifer Love Hewitt had her hair done via tornado, and Eva Longoria Parker just simply looked like crap.

That was my take, anyway.

As for the guys, all I can say -- and I've said this before -- is that long ties with tuxes do NOT count as evening dress. Bow ties, people. It's the only time they don't look dorky. And Wayne Brady? Next time, at least get a tie. You host a fricking game show. You are not smooth enough to get away with the open shirt thing.

There. I'm done. If I sound cranky, it's just because my brain decided that there are more fun things to do than sleep last night. Yeah, I know that's not unusual for me, but last night I really tried to do everything properly before I went to bed. And I was tired anyway. There should have been no excuses.

Stupid brain.

Stupid boring award shows that I always end up watching.






I should end this on a more positive note, I guess.

Let's see...

Um...

Ok, I've got one. Yay Mad Men. That was actually pretty cool.

I'm going to go feed the salamanders now.

Gah

Hi.

I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm at work on a Sunday, and in a little while I'm going to have to go do something that will, in all probability, be a complete and utter waste of time.

So have a photo of a totally out-of-season flower for NO REASON AT ALL.

Gah.






I swear, if some silly actress isn't wearing something absolutely hideous to the Emmys tonight I may just start having a bad mood.

So...

After nearly a week of either not posting or posting very little (my neck was out. Be thankful for all of the whinge you missed) you'd think that I might have something in my head worth blathering about.

Boy, would you be wrong.

I actually tried to think of a real topic. I did. The best I could come up with -- and you can blame this on too much television while I was stranded in the hurts to move position -- is that I'm really very tired of the Apple Mac commercials.

I am, you know.

When they first came out... cute. Somewhat clever, even. Now? I hate the premise, I hate the smugness, and I HATE the music.

Come to think of it, music choices kill a lot of things for me. Maybe my brain hasn't figured out that background music is supposed to be background music, I don't know, but I often find myself getting annoyed by music that I know I wasn't really supposed to be noticing.

Take some of the political commercials out there, for example. I've already said (like, every single time that we have an election) that I have no use for negative ads and don't pay much attention to them. Unfortunately, some of the positive ads that one particular party has chosen to run (in amongst the absolute avalanche of their negative ads. It's a wonder I noticed that there were any positive ads at all) feature background music that is annoyingly reminiscent of the music one of our local newscasts uses whenever they have a particularly "heartwarming" or "special" story. It's overly sentimental piano noodling, and I don't expect that the politician in the ad would be thrilled to know that, simply because of the music, his ads make me think that he might just be a person we should all feel good about because he overcame some crippling mental deficiency to get his high school diploma...

If Wheat reads this and knows which ads I'm referring to, he'll probably have a few things to say about the possibility of that particular politician actually having a crippling mental deficiency. That is precisely why I'm not naming the politician. My two fans should know by now that I thoroughly dislike political discussions.

Besides, we don't need to turn the blog into a pumpkin today.

Anyway, I'm about done with my lack of topic for now. Bad commercial music = bad commercial, for those who needed a summing up. And as for me... well, I might be back to blather tomorrow. The way things have gone this week, I don't want to say for sure. Besides, I may be nursing a few sore muscles after this morning's fall.

Oh, I didn't mention the fall?

Yeah, I guess I didn't.





Oh well.

Arrrrr...

That's all from me. And if it needs an explanation, you just haven't been paying attention.

Oh, and thanks to the Toronto office for filling in while I was doing some enforced staring at the ceiling.

Why, yes, there does seem to be a cat theme

Okay so Smudgie loves the garden - twice a year tops, so clearly on her own terms - but sometimes a girl just has to hide behind the air-conditioning unit in the corner apparently.

Ironically that's dogwood off to the right in the photo. I have mentioned that I rarely choose plants that are just green, haven't I?


Smudgie's birthday was July 1st and she was nine years old this time around. I think I'd choose to be 28 several times in a row if I had the chance; it was a very good year (cue Frank Sinatra)

Anyyyyyyway, as you can plainly see, this blog is truly living up to its original intent. I have nothing else to go on about or say but this is a seriously decent photo of the cat so there ya go.

LY,S

And again, that's all there is

We were driving for the heck of it the other day, through a very small Ontario town.

This is one of the hydrants to be found, all of which had different themes.

This one? Well, this one called for a u-turn to snap the photo.

Hmnmm, does one still "snap" photos with a digital camera?

Note to self: stop now or this could become a post with a purposeful discussion and turn everything all orange.

Pointless photo of the day:

That's all for today.

My head hurts.

Pointless headache of the day:

Well, really. Is there ever any point to having a headache?

It's not a bad one today, in case you were concerned, but it's bad enough that I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on work much. As a result, I've decided not to work.

There are perks to being part-time, you know. One of them is the ability to decide not to work if you have a headache.

Of course, deciding not to work also means that you've decided not to get paid for the time you've decided not to work.

Ah well. I'll work tomorrow.

And blather tomorrow, maybe. This'll be it for now, folks.

Busy...

Title says it all, really.

I found a new internet toy. Well, new to me. If I get a bit more done with it, it may show up on the blog today.

If not, it'll show up on the blog another day.




Either way... busy.

Pointless photo of the day:

And very few words to go with.

I've been a little busy this morning.

There might be something on Shrubbery later today, though. I had an idea for this week's Illustration Friday (as opposed to the last couple of weeks where... well, the lack of idea was pretty obvious) and, depending on what the afternoon brings, I may actually try to execute it a bit more thoroughly than I generally do in a fifteen minute lunchtime doodle.

Or, you know, not.

I guess we'll just have to see.

Me and alllll the voices, yes.

----------

Edited later to say:

I forgot to wish everyone a Happy International Chocolate Day. How unforgivable of me.

Um...

Sorry, I got busy doing work stuff, and now I've forgotten what it was I was going to blather about.

So.

Um.

Well, I suppose I could give a little bit of insight as to what my work stuff actually is. It can occasionally be a little bit different from most peoples' work stuff, I guess.

I'm a naturalist, you see. Naturalist/interpreter. It's the kind of job that always seems to have to come with an explanation. Sort of like when I first started my degree and was continually having to tell people that no, studying zoology does not mean that I want to work in a zoo.

Although some zoologists do. There's nothing wrong with that.

So anyway, Dee, what the hell is a naturalist/interpreter? Considering that half the time I feel like I don't really know what it is myself (and I've been doing this for FAR TOO LONG, have I mentioned?) I'm not sure I'm the best one to describe the job, but I'll do what I can.

First let's do the interpreter part. An interpreter is someone who helps people understand things. A language interpreter (which I'm definitely not) translates languages to help people understand each other; a natural history interpreter "translates" nature to help people understand it.

With me so far?

As an interpreter, I'm an educator. I spend a large part of my professional life working with school groups to add a nature component to their science curriculum. When I talk (or, more usually, whinge) about doing programs, that's what I'm generally referring to. Teachers bring their kids to the nature centre so that we can teach them in a different, more interactive way than they might get in the classroom.

That part of my job can be fun. Unfortunately, it's not all just about goofing around in front of children. The curriculum needs to be examined for places that we can fit ourselves in. Programs need to be researched, written, and marketed. Staff needs to be hired, trained, and evaluated. I'm not always involved in every single facet of the above, but I'm in on quite a bit of it.

Of course, school programming isn't the only kind of interpretation that happens here. There are public programs (for, oddly enough, the general public), youth group programs, and even just casual roving out on the trails or in the building. If I'm chatting with you and giving you information, I'm being a good little interpreter.

And what about the naturalist part?

Well, first I want to make it clear that a naturalist is NOT a naturist. There's a difference. You can look it up yourself. Just come back here when you're done.






Ok? Now that we've made it clear that I don't have to come to work naked (in fact it's not encouraged), all I really have to say about being a naturalist is that I spend a lot of my time feeling completely inadequate because it seems like no matter how much weird knowledge I have floating around in the empty space above my neck someone always finds a way to ask me a question that I don't have an effing clue about.

You people are really talented when it comes to that, you know?

Yeah, the naturalist side of my job usually consists of doing my best to answer questions. Questions from visitors, questions on the phone, occasionally questions on the work blog... I'm definitely not the only one answering questions here (in fact, Wheat gets the lion's share. And he can keep it), but I answer attempt to answer a fair number. And now I'm going to tell you a secret about answering nature questions.

Search engines.

Yep.

If you've phoned in to the nature centre and have asked me a question that I haven't been asked a thousand times before, I can guarantee that I've been typing away in the background as I've been talking to you. You probably could have found the answer yourself. The only difference between my googling skills and your googling skills is that I have a basic set of websites that I'm pretty sure I can trust (although the Government of Canada has been known to spread a few untruths here and there, I suppose) so I might find things juuust a little faster than someone who doesn't do this kind of thing as often as I have to.

I'm also very good at looking things up in books.






Have I disillusioned anyone about the whole all-knowing naturalist thing yet? I'm not terribly sorry if I have because the simple truth is that there's no way in hell that we can know everything about nature. Anyone who tells you -- or thinks that -- s/he does is SO INCREDIBLY FULL OF CRAP. Hey, I've been doing this for a long time now. I know a little bit about a lot of things, but I'm never going to be able to answer every question. The only thing that keeps me from drowning myself in a bucket (why waste water when all you really need is a bucketful?) on the days when I'm feeling mostly incompetent is that I did know a tiny fraction more than the people who phoned in, or they wouldn't have phoned in in the first place.

Erm... did that make sense?

Actually, I don't even care if it made sense.

And I'm tired of typing now, so this unintended novel is coming to a rapid close. Gah, I've been long-winded lately.


Ah well. It'll make up for those many many many many many many many times when I'm not.

Pointless photo of the day:

That'll be it for the day. I've got actual work-related things to do.

I do actual work-related things occasionally, you know.

Shocking.

Whinge alert

Nothing like truth in post titling, I figure.

So here it is. The start of the whinge, I mean.

The backs of my heels hurt because they're scraped raw. And my ankle? So not happy, as I found out when I took a little walk on one of the trails just now. And all because I had to dress like a girl yesterday.

I know, poor baby.

I had a meeting that I had to spruce up a little for, you see. Skirt, heels, hairdo... the whole girlie works. It's been a while since I've done that, to be honest. I used to gaudy it up fairly regularly when I was still performing, naturally, and when I was in university I used to wear skirts a large part of the time (although to be fair that was very definitely more in the casual, lab-safe, no-damned-dress-shoes sense of wearing skirts), but it became apparent when I stopped in at the office for a few minutes that people aren't used to seeing me that way anymore.

Want to get a reaction to clothing? Show up in a skirt and heels at a place where you're generally seen in a uniform shirt and jeans.

People were looking at me yesterday as though I'd just dropped in from Neptune.

Of course, it probably didn't help that I was all dressed up and... getting crickets ready to feed to the salamanders. Yeah, that might have had a little something to do with it.

I don't mind dressing up, really. It makes a nice change from the uberdresseddown way I tend to live my life since I started working here SOOO FRIGGING MANY YEARS AGO.








Oops. Sorry. That's a different whinge for a different post.

Where was I? Oh, right. I don't mind dressing up. Really I don't. My feet and ankle, on the other hand, are currently letting me know that they mind it.

A day (or even half-day) in heels when you're no longer a heels wearer is just so, so wrong. I understand that it's the standard thing to wear heels with skirts. Hell, I'll admit that even I like the way they look. But if Whomever had meant for us to walk around like that, Whomever would have given us Kevlar foot coverings and I wouldn't be walking around all bandaged up and throbbing right now.

Incidentally, the day after a day in heels is not a good time to find out that you have no large bandages left in your house. I am a miracle of gauze and tapework at the moment.

Anyway. Whinge over. I'm planning to limp over to the drug store on my way home (oh wait. Maybe I'll drive instead) to replenish the bandage supply, and at some point I'll possibly even make it to a clothing store to lay in a couple of new skirts since it became clear the other day that my current wardrobe is somewhat lacking (does one skirt count as a wardrobe all by itself? Maybe I don't even have a wardrobe).

Oh, but that would mean more heels.

Sigh.





Ah well, if it wasn't for whinges this blog wouldn't even really exist...

----------

Edited to add a word about today's pointless photo:

It has nothing to do with anything.

Thus: pointless.

Pointless photo of the day:

I imagine you could have predicted that I'd go two days full-on blather and then have nothing to say on the third, right?

Yep.

I could tell you about feeding the snakes, I suppose. I didn't feed them apples, in case you were surmising that from today's pointless photo. I did, however, feed Wheat apples. Or at least offered him apples. He did the feeding part himself.

My father has a couple of apple trees in his yard (as you do) and 'tis definitely the season. I have a lot of apples in my fridge right now. One of his trees has small, crab-sized apples that are nice and sweet but you have to eat a few to feel satisfied. The other one -- the one in the photo -- makes decent sized apples that aren't as sweet but are still good eating and would probably be great for cooking.

Not that I do that sort of thing, of course.

It's just a real treat to be able to pick actual apples in your own yard. This isn't exactly prime apple-growing country, and when I was a kid it seemed like all we had were crab apples. Nothing wrong with crab apples, you know. If you get a decent crab apple tree the fruit can be almost edible, even. There's not comparing it to a true apple, though, and the father figure's trees are finally mature enough that they're producing nicely.

Kudos to the agriculturalists who managed to come up with an Alberta-weather-safe apple.

Um... was I meant to be talking about apples?






No, it was snakes. Well, I don't really have much to say about the snakes. They ate their reheated mice as they usually do. Kind of stupidly, and without any utensils. There weren't any major disasters, however, and no one tried to eat anyone else.

A successful feeding, I guess.






I should end here with something about how do you like them apples (or mice), but I think that's too easy even for me.

Later, all.

Happy election to you...

Sigh.

Election, yes. Anyone surprised? It's not like we've heard enough about elections from our neighbours to the south or anything. Just had to get in on the act, I guess.

Now, before anyone thinks that this post is going to offer an opinion on the actual campaign, let me state outright that I hate politics. Hate. Almost as much as pick-up trucks. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not apathetic. I do try to educate myself about the issues, and I do vote. Unfortunately, to do both of those things means you have to, inevitably, listen to politicians tell you what to think. That's the part I have no use for.

The only saving grace about a Canadian-style election for me is that I'll only have to deal with the rhetoric, whining, and finger-pointing for just over a month. I don't know how you folks in the States manage to put up with election campaigns going on for years, because I know that it would drive me bats and make me far less likely to care about any of it. I'd very quickly get to the point where I'd be wishing for everyone to just SHUT UP and get back to running the country already.

Yes, I know it's important to understand the different policies different parties intend to govern by. Yes, I know it's important to be given the chance to change direction if the country's direction needs changing (and does it? Hell, I'm not saying. My own personal politics are really none of your business). But here's the thing: elections aren't really about that. They're about politicians trying to make themselves the most popular kids in class. The sad fact is that in a modern, information-age election people are more likely to be swayed by whoever spins the best than by whose ideas might be best for the country.

Yeah, just try to figure out whose ideas might be best for the country when it's hard to even find the ideas in amongst the negative campaign ads and cults of personality.

Ok, maybe that last was a tiny bit extreme. Or maybe I was just thinking of those down south who seem to think that Obama is going to come forth and part the waters...

But hey. Let's talk about negative campaign ads for just a moment, on the off chance that anyone from the federal political machines stumbles upon today's blather. Would you like to know what negative campaigning does for me? It pretty much guarantees that I'm not going to listen to your message. Seriously. I want to know about your ideas. I want to know what you are going to do if I vote for you. I do NOT need to be told about how evil your opponent is. If I've been paying attention, I can figure how evil -- or not evil -- s/he is for myself. Having you telling me all about it just shows me that you haven't got anything to tell me about yourself.

Besides, it's all far too playground to be worth paying attention to.

Anyway.

This will likely be all you hear from me about the mercifully short election process here in the Great White North. If the Toronto office feels like talking about it she's welcome to, but I'm going back to being quiet and disgruntled now.

I'll let you know if I feel any more gruntled when the thing is over.

Honestly? I don't know.

Yep, it's my usual. Away from the computer for days, all by my lonesome (if you don't count the voices)... you'd think I would have had time to come up with some sort of blog post.

Time, I had. Inclination, not so much.

I didn't bother, in other words.

Thanks to the Toronto office for taking over, though. We all know that, just like the blog will turn into a pumpkin if it ever has a point, the world will turn into a pumpkin if there is no blog.

Or something like that.

Excuse me for a moment. I just need to put some clothes in the dryer.





Ok. Topic, which I don't have.

Well, how about a bit of personal info? A small bit, since you know how I feel about splashing myself all over the internet.

If I was going to put a bumper sticker on Dirty Moe (my car, for those new to the program. And yes, there is a reason for the name), which I wouldn't but let's just say I would for a moment, the bumper stick would read I hate your truck.

Pick-up truck, I mean. I have my moments of hating semis as well (like yesterday's drive here, for example. Would someone mind telling the truckers that when it's raining hard enough that people are pulling on to the shoulders to wait out the worst of the downpour it might not be the BEST IDEA to pass people at full speed, ignoring the fact that you're creating a helluva tsunami as you go?), but mostly I reserve my loathing for the unnecessary, chromed-up, fuel-wasting beasties that every second moron in this province thinks are essential to life.

I have a bit of an opinion about pick-ups, yes.

Don't get me wrong. I do realise that some people -- not as many as seem to believe that they do -- need pick-ups for work or things like that. I can almost live with that excuse. What I have a problem with is the many, many people who have big shiny trucks to have big shiny trucks. Call it the need to be the biggest thing on the road, call it a penis substitute, hell... call it a brain substitute if you like since so many pick-up drivers don't seem to use theirs while they're driving... but whatever you call it the whole thing is incredibly annoying to me.

And don't tell me that they need their big toys to haul things around. Ninety percent of the time the boxes of the trucks I see on city streets are empty.

Except for maybe an unrestrained dog.

Or a quad.

Oh god, don't get me started on the quads. The only thing worse than a big, shiny, completely unnecessary truck is a big, shiny, completely unnecessary truck carrying a vehicle that is only going to be used to thrash through some defenceless underbrush for no apparent reason. I swear, driving a truck that's hauling a quad is the quickest way to double your rating on the moronometer.

So why do trucks set me off? Oh, so many reasons. Seeing those vanity toys parked sideways in two parking spaces so that no one can touch the paint job is right up there. So's the environmental irresponsibility. How a person can justify a big bloody truck these days when much of the world is trying to figure out how we can get ourselves out of the ginormous hole we've been so mindlessly digging... gah.

It's selfish. I guess that's what it comes down to.





Ah well.

If today's gas prices haven't done much to change good ol' redneck selfishness, whining about it on a blog sure won't.

And hey. This almost turned into a post after all.

Yay me.

Pointless photo

Perhaps pointless but not actually point-less if you look at the leaves closely. In fact, quite point-ed. Many point-ed. Very ... oh you get the idea.

Wednesday was an interesting day which led to yesterday being an exciting day. Today was a spiffy day, indeed, also. And yes that's English - at least I meant it to be, in there somewhere.

I notice my posts have been lacking in any sort of personality or oomph and that is because things in my little comfort zone are shifting slightly with the appropriate amount of anxiety attached to it. I'll keep telling myself that it's from times like this that we stretch and grow ... and then slap myself upside the head as there's far too much over-thinking in the likes of that woman on t.v. and that doctor she encourages to be all down home and in your face. I can't be the only one on the planet who reads him as being marketed as "totally honest" and in your face but see his eyes shift for approval when he speaks.

Gee, when did I hit the on-ramp to Rant? I totally missed the highway sign.

Annnnnyway, it's the first time in a long time I've hit a pocket of oh m'lord, be careful what you wish for and I must say it's ... exhilarating. Sure, let's use that word for it. Terror-inducing is a bit strong.

Does any of this make sense to you? Probably not but here we are anyway, me typing, you reading.

I bet you miss Dee now, don't you. Her ramblings are much more orderly even for ramblings.

And now that you feel you've just been led through a very bad foreign-language essay on the mating habits of gnats, I'll stop typing.

Please note: I am not on anything for allergies, pain or any other ailment. My brain has just been sent out for steam-cleaning and this post is being prepared completely on reflex.

The credit is not mine

Smudgelette was camping this year and happened to snap away at the right time, wouldn't you say?





















As you can see, she captured the approach, the hit and the "I'll be back".

Cool pictures, I think.


And aren't you lucky: they're self-explanatory so I needn't blather on.

Also cool.

You can stuff those

... and in my imagination that title line just produced a great spit take in Alberta. And if it didn't, don't dash my vision.

These are really quite unusual to find as late in the season as they were. Oh, but I think I may have mentioned the cloudy and darkish days with rain and humidity. I could check back in the archives but I'm almost sure I mentioned those weathery-type things. Just to confirm (or recap - ha! I kill me!), though: have I mentioned the humidity?

Of course, the fungi were turned over on their backs; no, no - not so they couldn't get away, silly, but to show the OLF the - say it with me - patterns on their bellies.

Oh they do so have bellies. And there was a spit take.

And this is the end of the post.

As perspective is everything in most things (relax, I'm not going to get philosophical at this hour of the night), I had to come back to mention that the top one is/was the size of a softball so Uncle Ben would be very busy indeed.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd I got nothin'

This is really the only thing that was thriving in my backyard this year. I wonder if everything else took cover BECAUSE OF ALL THE RAIN AND HUMIDITY ... sorry. I got a bit tired of all the water falling from the sky, you see.

Just so you know - you know, in case you're in the area - it will be a lovely, sunny day today. Because I'll be in a car for several hours and the a/c is not functioning at all well.


Of course.

"Why?", you ask

Because if it doesn't get a lot less humid pretty darn soon, I'll be looking for sharp objects to fall against.


The far less dramatic thing to do, of course, is post a photo reminding me of how January looked. That is no illusion, that the snow was that deep next to the car.


You know the worst thing about this summer? Well how could you know what I consider to be the worst thing. Oh, hey - I could tell you my opinion. That would work.

The worst thing is that the humidity has been so high and constant that the mosquitoes - gee that looks funny spelled like that but I'm lazy tonight - have just kept on a-buzzin' and there is no respite from them. Die, little suckers! Die!

Um, yeh, not fond of them, I am... er, not.

Right. Going now. Enjoy the cool breeze from your monitor.