OCD

Obsessive cat disorder, I mean.

And before I go any further, you've probably noticed that today's pointless photo is not of a cat.

That's because I was too lazy to take one.

Anyway. OCD. I've decided that Max has it. It's occurred to me that if you were watching a human behave the way Max often does you'd wonder if maybe he needs medication of some sort.

For one thing, there's the whole water issue. There are a couple of water bowls for the cats in this house, but Max prefers to get his water from more challenging sources. The bathroom tap, for instance. If you run the tap in the upstairs bathroom you're almost guaranteed to have Max come in as soon as the door is opened so that he can lick the one or two remaining drips off of the spout (and that, boys and girls, is precisely why I don't drink water from that tap. If you come to visit I'd suggest pretty much the same course of action for you). But the water thing doesn't stop there. This time of year he's an obsessive window licker.

Yep, windows. Or the condensation off of the windows, to be more precise.

If you sit in the living room for more than, say, twenty minutes I can promise you that in that time the cat will have brushed aside the vertical blinds to lick the window at least once. Maybe more if he's recently had a snack and needs to wash it down with something. He alternates between the living room window and the one in my father's bedroom. I guess they have the best tasting glass in the house or something.

I could go on with some of the other weirdities Max commits, but I think I'll save them up for the next time I can't think of anything to blog about. If I start saying I have nothing in the next while just remind me that I was going to blather about the cat's occasional lack of eyebrows...





No, I'm not kidding.

Later, folks.

Something something Boxing Day...

Yep, no idea what to post about today.

Christmas Day? It was quiet, just the way I prefer it these days.

Christmas dinner? Was good. I won't bore you with more thoughts about turkey in the rotisserie rather than in the oven except to say that it's so much better in the rotisserie.

Today? Not sure yet. I'm not planning to head back into the city for the sales or anything and I don't know if I'll check any of them out here. I should probably do some doodling since I didn't bother with much last week. Or maybe I'll just sit here and continue to listen to my coat thumping along in the dryer.

It's my annual traditional Boxing Day coat wash, you know.

Ok, so that's not really a thing. It's just that washing my coat is about all that I accomplished this morning, that's all.

And not exactly blog fodder.

Sooo...

I think maybe it's time to stop typing.





Ok then.

A not snarky at all Christmas post

No, really. It's honestly a Christmas post that's not snarky at all. It'll probably be short, but definitely not snarky.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure that the tracks in today's pointless post had more to do with a Mule Deer than a Reindeer, but it was the best that I could do.

Obviously I have other things besides blogging going on just now, but I did at least want to wish everyone a Happy Holiday Of Your Preference and lots of good food and egg nog.

If you like egg nog.

If you don't like egg nog you should probably stay away from the egg nog. Just a thought.

And now for your viewing pleasure:

A classic Christmas song.

A... different kind of classic Christmas song.

My favourite version of A Christmas Carol.

My other favourite version of A Christmas Carol.

And... um... gimme a sec...

All right, let's end with a sketch that doesn't have a whole lot to do with Christmas but does have a Christmas tree in it.




Have a good one, everyone.

Something something Christmas Eve

I did warn you yesterday that I was out of pointless photos of snow for the moment. Here's an old picture of Snow in Summer to make up for it, though.

Now then. On to the post which, as you can probably tell by the title, I don't actually have a clue about just yet. My life, thankfully, has been a lot less interesting so far this morning than yesterday was. I'm sort of hoping it'll stay that way.

Not so good for the blather, though.

Well... I suppose since I put it in the post title I could talk a little bit about Christmas Eve. Probably just a little, but we'll give it a try.

My Christmas Eve when I was a kid was probably a little different than the average North American WASP's Christmas Eve generally is, because it involved presents. Every Christmas Eve we would head over to my paternal grandmother's house (usually making a detour along the way to drive up to the local mental hospital's grounds to see the decorated trees -- not as weird as it sounds, honestly -- while listening to the NORAD Santa report on the car radio. You can find it here now, but I'm old enough to have listened to it on the radio instead) to open gifts with grandma and my two uncles.

Right about now some of you might be wondering whether I have German ancestry or something like that. I'm not in the mood to do the research (you can, if you like), but it seems to me that I remember hearing something about the English royal family always opening their gifts on Christmas Eve because the tradition started with Queen Victoria (herself largely of German descent) and her German consort Albert. Well, I'm not German. As far as I know, anyway.

What I didn't know until comparatively recently is the why of our Christmas Eves. A couple of years ago my father and I were talking about... you know, I can't remember what at the moment, but he mentioned waiting every Christmas Eve for his father to get home after closing the bar so that they could open presents. My grandfather was the bartender/manager at the local Legion, you see, and because of that generally worked on Christmas Day. That's why his family had their Christmas the night before.

Um, I guess. I hope I'm remembering this story right. I know it was something like that, anyway.

Funny to think that my growing-up Christmas Eves were shaped by the job of someone who died long before I was even born, though.

Today? Well, nowadays presents happen on Christmas Day like most people's, and I don't even know if the hospital still decorates their trees. I guess it was a pretty short-lived family tradition in the end, but it's still kind of neat to think about.

Happy Christmas Eve, everyone.






Oh shoot. I was going to talk about my father's tissue-paper-filled gift bag, wasn't I? Ah well. Maybe tomorrow.

Hey, I should blog

And I suppose I should take some more snow pictures tomorrow. This is the last of the current batch.

Gee, pictures of snow. That reeeally sounds like fun...

Anyway. I should blather. I should. I'm not sure what to blather about, though, since the day turned out to be more eventful than I had expected. Unfortunately, not with events that I feel like elaborating on except to say to EVERYONE that driving while talking on the cell phone is a bad, bad thing. Don't do it. Ever.

Um... Now I have to elaborate at least a little, right? Well, let me just say that witnessing someone's accident through someone else's phone conversation can be pretty scary. Especially when the someone on the other end of the line suddenly doesn't answer. Everyone's ok, thank goodness. But please. Everyone. Driving should be driving. Period. Not EVER driving and whatever else you think you can manage at the same time.

I think that's all I feel like managing today, although the above was just one facet of my too-interesting day. I think I prefer boring, to be honest.

See you tomorrow.







When, if you're lucky, I'll tell you why my father's getting a gift bag full of tissue paper for Christmas.

I'm trying, I really am

To not be as snitty as I was yesterday, that is.

Honestly, I am.

It's just... winter, you know? Winter just brings out so many things that I hate.

Like cold. And snow. I simply can't understand anyone's wanting snow (other than for skiing on, I guess. But then, Gimpy the Wonder Klutz here can't really understand the need for skiing either). It's so... part of me wants to say snowy, but I suppose I should avoid being the Department of Redundancy Department today... let's go with inconvenient, then. Snow means digging out the car (and me having to dress like a polar explorer just to dig out the damned car). Snow means that the roads will probably be crap, and that the drivers who haven't figured out that the roads are crap will be scary.

Speaking of which, and in part 1342 of the continuing series I Hate Your Truck, why is it that the STDOTDs (that'd be Stupid Truck Driver of the Day, for those of you who don't follow my personal acronyms religiously. Or at all) who drive the biggest, baddest four-wheel drive wondermobiles can't seem to figure out that it should probably be them who move over into the deeper snow on narrow roads? I drive a freaking Saturn, for Whomever's sake. If I get stuck I'm liable to stay that way. And it's not like the STOTDs are going to offer help when it happens, right?

Um, anyway. Idiots in trucks bug me even when the roads are fine, so I should probably leave that topic for another day.

And besides, I did actually get more than a couple of hours of sleep last night and I'm honestly in a better state than I was yesterday and the day before, so I really should try to be more pleasant. 'Tis the season, after all.

Stupid snow, wrecking my mood.

I just now typed another whingy snow paragraph, but I've deleted it. Somehow I think I've more than made my point today.

Now if it would only stop snowing long enough for me to feel like doing my Christmas shopping.






Um... yeah. Sad but true statement there. I did mention that some of you will have to be planning to celebrate Ukrainian Christmas this year, right? By then I may actually have bought you something...

Yes, there's been a shortage of posts.

Wanna make something of it?

I'm working on a severe lack of sleep here, so I'm quite willing to slap you silly.

Just so you know.

Ok, the mood's obviously great. Add that to the yet more snow we're getting (and yes, I know it's nothing compared to what the east got. Any snow is bad for my general anti-snowness, though) and the lack of sleep (and did I mention the lack of sleep?) and I just don't quite know how I can fake a happy post.

So maybe I won't bother.

I will try to write a few actual wordy-type posts over Christmas to make up for this snittery, I promise. Emphasis on the try part, however. We'll see what happens.

And another snow photo

And another I need to get back to work so this is all you're getting post.

They're exciting, aren't they?

Later, all.

Pointless snow photo of the day:

Because snow is the ultimate pointlessness, as far as I'm concerned.

That's it for today. I've got to go take a walk.

In the snow.

But at least it's melting, so I think I'll survive.

The traditional Christmas Tree post

What? Everyone has their Christmas traditions, right? One of mine happens to be decorating the tree and then taking a streaky, flashless picture of it. I do it every year, so it must be a tradition.

All right, all, right. See below for a non-streaky flashless picture.

But bonus points on the top photo if you can tell where the incandescent lights end and the LED string starts. I get a kick out of that effect, but then I'm easily amused.

Anyway.

Big day for me today, I guess, since I actually went outside about a half hour ago and didn't feel like my nose was about to snap off. Yes, boys and girls, it is not -30C outside. It's not even -20C.

I may fall down in a faint.

I may also have no excuse to not be on the highway today as well. Ok, let's revisit that sentence. I have no excuse to skip another day of work, so I'll be heading home in a little while.

This means, amongst other things, that you can look for the next few blog posts to go back to the "I'm busy, here's a photo" variety. No doubt I will be busy. Good thing it's the slow time of year for what I usually do, or I'd be unimaginably busy.

And what is it that I do, exactly?

Let me know if you find out, ok?

Anyway, I should go get my stuff packed and think about heading out before things get too warm and too slippery.

Who've thought I'd be saying that a few days ago, eh?

Catch you later.

So what'll we have today?

Well, let's start with a picture of snow, since that's what's out there. Oh, and the rain gauge isn't really of too much use at the moment. Don't you think?

What else? Quick neck complaint, I guess. Hey, neck? Get yourself straightened out, already. I'm getting sick of the headaches.

And quick weather complaint, because you know I just have to: I hate winter. Still, yes. Apparently things are supposed to start warming up tomorrow (I refuse to believe that until it actually happens, though. Call it my version of knocking wood) which may even lead me to go back to my own place... erm, yeah. I'm not a big fan of travelling -- especially alone -- when the weather makes it dangerous for me to be outside for any length of time, so my father's had a roommate these past couple of days. Um, anyway. I still hate winter, is what I'm saying.

And next? Hmmm. I don't really have much today, I have to admit. I could touch quickly on my dislike for Anne Geddes' photography, but it would be really quickly because the only reason it's come up at all is that I have my iGoogle theme set to random and it must have been Anne Geddes turn to have the spotlight today. Frankly, I don't see the appeal of babies dressed up as vegetables or flowers or whatever, but obviously a lot of people do so I'll just leave it to them and wait for tomorrow's random theme to take over. It's no biggie either way.

Anything else?

Not really.

And besides, my face kind of hurts from all the sneezing. Sneezing, you say? Yeah. No idea why, but there's sure been a lot of it this morning. Maybe it's the cats or something, I don't know.

And that's really no way to end a post, is it? Well, let's check the video vault and see what I can come up with...

Ok, Playing For Change came up somewhere else this morning, so that's a good enough excuse to link to one of my favourite pieces of theirs. I've probably linked to it before, but you know what? I don't care. It's good. Enjoy it.






Aaand... I was going to end there, but after that I need a bit more Keb' Mo'. Gotta love it.

Snit roundup

Ok, to sum up what I could be whinging about at this very moment so we don't have to do this the long-winded way: my neck still hurts, I need to sleep more, I hate winter (although it doesn't seem to be bothering the deer much, as evidenced by the tracks in the yard), and I'd like to thank CTV for making me not give a flying rat's bum about the Vancouver Olympics.

Oh, wait. Let's elaborate on that last one for a bit.

I'm not saying I would have been full of Olympic fever anyway, to start with. The winter Olympics don't thrill me for the most part because I'm not really into any winter sports. Well, all right, I'll watch hockey. And things like luge and skeleton because I think those people are completely nuts. And, ok, maybe I'll watch a bit of speed skating as well. But that's about it for me and sports that involve cold. So you can imagine that those few things in themselves weren't exactly going to make me wait with fish breath (erm... baited, that would be) for the start of a whole big winter sports to-do.

Now let's add in the CTV factor.

CTV, I know that you paid big money for the rights to broadcast the games. I also understand that you need to let people know that you're Canada's home for the Winter Olympics (or whatever). However, that doesn't mean that it was a great move to beat it into our heads for the last two years that THIS IS WHERE WE'LL FIND THE OLYMPICS. All those exhortations to believe -- over and over and over again -- don't make someone like me want to cheer on our athletes. It makes someone like me (and I can't be the only one) want to tell you where to stuff it.

And now that the games are nearly here things haven't gotten much better. Over-coverage of the world's longest and most pointless torch relay? Lovely for those involved, I suppose, but not exactly getting me all worked up. And I won't even tell you where to stick those bloody red mittens. I know, I know, it's for a good cause. But it's completely annoying to see the commercials. And see the commercials. And see the commercials.

And veering away from CTV-brand overexposure for a moment: whose bright idea do you suppose it was to have mascots for a Canada-hosted Olympics that look so... I dunno... anime? Makes about as much sense as choosing the well-known Vancouver inukshuk as your games symbol. I mean, I like inukshuks. Really I do. But they have absolutely nothing to do with Vancouver.

I dunno. I'd like to be excited about all of this. I would. But at this point my brain is so sick of hearing about it that I've already hit just get it over with. And I don't even live in Vancouver. I can ignore the whole thing if I choose to. How big do you suppose the dent in my forehead would be by now if I was in the thick of the annoyance and inconvenience?




Erm, yeah. Good on the patriotism, I guess, Dee. Um... go team?

I refuse to use that stupid "official" cheer. What is it, something like Eh! O! Canada Go!, right? Good lord. If they wanted it to sound fake stereotypical Canadian they should have just used Go, eh. That would have done it.







And just in the interest of full disclosure because there are a few of you out there who know my preferences and may call me on them after this needless rant, I'll say YES. Yes, ok. I may just have increased my snititude ever so slightly seeing as the Winter Olympics give me no opportunity to watch the Men's Eight win more medals...

And you wonder about my mood?

For someone who loathes the cold as much as I do, this does not count as a winter wonderland. Just saying.

Oh, and it was -28C outside yesterday when I stepped outside (BRIEFLY!!!) to take this picture. And a few others. Yeah, we'll have a few days on the blog without leftover sunflower photos now.

Incidentally, it's also -28C out there right now. Our high today is supposed to be -25C. Um... yay?

Anyway. I'm not sure what I have to blather about today, since I just finished spending my brain on drawing a turtle. It's the first time I've drawn a turtle, actually. It went ok, I guess. For a turtle doodle done at the computer using someone else's photo that I wish could have been a little clearer. And for not really knowing how to draw a turtle.

But there you go, then.

Or something.

In other news, as usual this time of year Lumpy Penny has decided that she is a gift to the household and therefore deserves to occupy the Christmas tree skirt. Our tree isn't decorated yet (maybe I'll aim for that this afternoon), but that doesn't stop the cat from figuring that it's hers.

She's doing better than I am with the whole Christmas thing, I suppose. A combination of the weather, putting my neck out, and my general inability to get my act together has meant that I've done exactly no Christmas shopping. I know what at least one person is getting (late. At this point I'm aiming for Ukrainian Christmas, which I figure is valid since my grandfather was Ukrainian. Well, Ukrainian Canadian), but I have no idea for my father. I warned him that he might be getting a gift card -- yeah, I'm one of those people who sees absolutely nothing wrong with buying gift certificates rather than useless and completely inappropriate gifts -- and he seemed pretty all right with that.

Maybe that's what'll happen, then.

I don't know.

And anyway, nothing at all is likely to happen until it warms up about twenty degrees.





Sigh.

I really don't like winter, did I mention?

How's the snit going, Dee?

Oh, pretty well. I'm getting lots of practice, at any rate.

You'll notice that I ran out of pointless photos of frosty things. I could go out and take pointless photos of snowy things today, I guess, except that we currently have a severe windchill warning...

I hate winter.

But then you already know that.

And how's everything else? Well, the neck's a little better. I'll have a heckuva headache tonight from gravity compressing things again, but at the moment I can turn my head decently. That's better than having things worse. Oh, and I've had the Motown on this morning, so at least there's been a certain amount of singing along. Always a good thing for my general well-being, even if I've had to take it easy on the chairdancing this time around.

See? I'm trying to be in a better mood. I'm not quite there, but I'm working on it.

This helped, too.

I need to change laundry loads now. But I was out of stuff anyway, so it's convenient timing.



Later, then.

Ok, so...

Well, I managed a whole one day in a row before something else happened to add to the general suckage of my week.

I put my neck out yesterday.

Yay me.

Today? Still off-kilter, but I managed to move enough to make it down the highway to my father's place.

Slowly.

The roads are pretty much crap at the moment. But if I'd waited a day for the neck to sort itself out (which may or may not happen anyway) the roads would still be crap and I'd have the added pleasure of minus godawful temperatures to go along.

None of this is making me particularly happy. Does it show?

I'll... try to be a bit more positive tomorrow. Or something.

Yeah, yeah, I know

Blog much lately, Dee?

Not my fault.

Honestly.

You see, we had a bit of a storm a few days ago (and today's pointless photo was taken a couple of weekends ago. If I took it now it would have that polar-bear-in-a-snowstorm quality everybody's looking for in a pointless photo). Storms happen. And, unfortunately, when storms happen around here things usually get VERY cold for a while afterward.

Afterward can, on occasion, be a couple of weeks. Not this time, I hope, but it's been known to happen.

Anyway, when it gets cold it's extremely difficult for me to go anywhere because it's extremely painful for me to be outside long enough to clear off/warm up the car. And why is that? Oh, we've talked about it before. Let's just say that it's really stupid to be allergic to the cold when you live in, say, CANADA. At any rate, storm + cold = I stay housebound for a while.

I'm out today, but just barely.

The weather's a bit warmer (as in, now it's only TEN degrees below normal daytime high), but I got a nasty surprise when I went down to the car. It seems that the apartment manager, who in the way too many years I've been living there has gained a reputation for not clearing the snow in the parking lot all winter long and then letting us put up with wading in the meltwater all spring, has had a change of heart. Now, apparently, we get the parking lot cleared right away. WHILE THE CARS ARE STILL IN IT.

Did I mention the storm? There was a bit of snow.

Most of it, apparently, was needed to box in my car.

Should I say here that, since I live in a flipping apartment, I don't actually own a snow shovel?






Yeah. Picture the scene yourselves. I really don't want to type it all out.

Aaanyway. I should get back to work, since I haven't been here for a couple of days.





And will I be back to be pointless tomorrow?









I guess.










Maybe.

Really quick pointless photo of the day:

Yeah, I know I haven't been around all week.

I've got work to do now, though.

Later, then.

And if you can't say somthing nice...

You know what? I had something I was going to post. But it was fairly snotty, I had a bad sleep last night, and I try really hard not to post things that I'm going to regret later.

That's true, you know. This place might seem like it has almost no content some days and veers sharply towards verbal diarrhoea on others, but in the end I do think about my posts at least a little bit. I decided two things at the start of my blogging career: that I would never fully delete posts (edit? Yeah, but mostly for grammar), and that I would never post something that warranted being deleted.

One thing I could never understand about the blogging world in general is why so many people use their blogs as personal diaries only to end up horrified if others discover what's been written there. I mean, come on, people. It's the freaking INTERNET. If you hang your undies out on the line for everyone to see, sooner or later someone out there is going to notice what brand you wear and how ratty they are. If you don't want people to read what you write, keep it in a journal under your bed. Don't start a blog.

Same goes for Facebook or whatever else out there. If you don't want someone to know about something, keep it to yourself already. It's as easy as that.

Um, yeah. I mentioned the lack of sleep thing, right?

Anyway, in the end I have deleted posts, but not from an active blog. I deleted a whole bunch of stuff from my old blog (which used to be my main blog) when I decided that I wanted to use it for my doodles (such as they are). And incidentally, if you do ever check the old blog (the link's on the sidebar. I'll leave you to figure out which one it is if you don't already know. Or, failing that, just click on my profile at the top of the page), I have different rules over there. As in no rules. If I decide I don't like something that I've posted there, out it goes.

Kind of my equivalent of tossing out the crumpled paper if I have writer's block, I guess.

I'm... going now.

Considering the current mood, that's definitely for the best.

Bonus pointless photo of the day:

So, I was sitting here at the computer painting (sorry. Considering my skill level that should be "painting". And yes, watercolour painting at the computer is kind of stupid. I needed a reference picture, though), and it occurred to me that you might like to see my bruise.

Nice, isn't it?

I have no idea how I got it. I obviously burst a blood vessel (the obvious part was because of the accompanying lump), but I don't remember slamming into anything hard enough to do that. Or slamming into anything, for that matter.

Get a feeling that sometimes my life is the Lefty Extreme Games? So do I, really.




And... five points to anyone who can tell me what in this picture would have informed Sherlock Holmes that I'd eaten an orange before I came down to paint.

[/silliness]

Games people play

Well, I'm a little late posting this (so I'll try to keep it short) because I got stuck playing a new flash game on the computer that I was only going to try out for a couple of minutes.

I won't tell you how many couple of minutes it turned out to be in the end. It's kind of embarrassing.

Anyway, in honour of kind of embarrassing today's post is now officially going to be about gaming instead of what it was going to be about. Which I can't remember at this point, so it's just as well.

First, I should say that I'm not a gamer and never have been a gamer (although I do now own the piece of equipment featured in today's not-entirely-pointless photo, courtesy of my latest birthday). I'm kind of inept at gaming, if I'm going to be honest. Oh, I do all right at logic-type things (let's hear it for sudoku, boys and girls) or puzzles, and if no one's watching I've been known to enjoy failing miserably at things that involve a bit of strategy. I don't have a very strategic brain, I'll admit, but if it's just me'n the computer I'll give it a go.

The problems start when the game requires reflexes.

I'm just sooo bad at trying to hit the right buttons in the right order, so to speak.

It doesn't help that I get rattled a bit too easily. Too many things going on at once gets me wanting to throw up my hands in defeat before I've even really tried.

I've got a feeling that that sort of reaction juuust isn't going to be good for the DSi.

Which, apparently, needs a wipedown at the moment. Ok, ignore the dust in the photo, everyone.

And now that I've said that I just know that you're going to have to look for it. Yeah, I'm evil.

So if I'm so bad at gaming why do I end up playing the games in the first place? Well, as long as it's just me, myself, and I playing it doesn't matter if I suck. I can enjoy sucking as long as no one watches me suck.

The irony of all of this is that when I was younger I used to consider video games a really good spectator sport. I, the person who can't really bear the thought of someone watching her play a game, used to love to watch other people play. Still do, in fact, although I don't get much opportunity to do it nowadays. Watching a talented gamer play is far more entertaining to me than, say, watching tennis. And with today's graphics it's almost like watching sports and a movie all at once. What could be better?

Ok, yeah. You don't need to tell me that I'm weird. I'm pretty much aware of the fact.

Um, anyway. I should probably go get some lunch now, so I'll just end this by saying that if anyone out there wants to recommend some games to someone who's a novice with a handheld but is quite willing to secretly suck, leave me a comment.





Oh, and since I've probably given one or two people an earworm via today's post title, you may as well just get it over with.

Sigh

See today's photo? Today's photo is not of snow. If it had been taken today it would have been of snow, though. This is because it's (wait for it...) been snowing.

I hate snow.

I hate snow both for the fact that it's snow and for the fact that it symbolises winter. Which I also hate. And since we're on the subject of what I hate, let me also add the fact that it's hovering around freezing right now which makes a snowy day extra extra special. All around me I'm hearing it's an ice rink out there.

I really don't need to be hearing that. I'm not a big fan of winter driving, but at least I know my limits. There are way too many other people out there, though, who seem to be surprised every single year to find out that snow can, in fact, make roads slippery.

Now I'm completely unsure of what to do. I'd normally be heading in to my father's, but I don't know if I trust the roads. On the other hand, the road reports say that the highways aren't in terribly bad shape overall. So here's the deal. Do I risk driving all the way south back to my place on the slippery city roads and stay in town for another day, or do I risk driving a little way north on the slippery city roads until I can get to what may be less slippery highways?

Did I mention how much I hate snow?

Yep.

Maybe I should just sleep here for the night.





You know, the irony is that they're predicting a high of 8C for Sunday...






Augh.

Let's all just go back and look at the pretty flower, ok?

Stupid people in trucks

Today's pointless photo is not of stupid people in trucks. You know, in case you wondered.

I am, however, really sick of stupid people in trucks.

Now, don't get me wrong -- I'm not against trucks per se. Well, not completely. Trucks can be useful things under the right circumstances. Around here, though, it seems that most of the trucks on the road exist only so stupid people can have something to drive.

And yes, I do know that not only stupid people drive trucks. The stupid people who do, however, are so overwhelming stupid as to skew the curve more than a bit.

Not that I have an opinion or anything.

I'll save my thoughts about aggressive idling, road hogging, and highway tailgating for another time. Today's post is in honour of the absolute IDIOT whose pick-up is currently parked in my apartment building's lot. Now, I don't know if this person is visiting someone in the building or if someone in that particular unit recently acquired a second vehicle, but Stupid Truck Driver Of The Day has decided that it's absolutely necessary to have his (I'm completely assuming that this has to be a he) truck parked at a particular stall in the lot. Which already has a car in it. Yep, STDOTD has DOUBLE-PARKED his truck behind another car in the parking lot, leaving a very interesting little lane for the rest of us to try to navigate through.

And the part that has me really wanting to key the STDOTD's precious vehicle (don't worry. I'd never actually do it. Just think about it a lot) is that we have half a dozen empty visitor stalls in the lot that ANYONE is welcome to use.

Idiot.

This better not be a permanent feature of our parking lot, let me tell you. If it is I'll... well, probably just stew a little, to be honest.

But maybe somebody ELSE would consider keying his truck...





Idiot.

Pointless photo of the day:

Look! It's not a mountain!

It's a...

Birthday present.

Not my birthday present, though. It's my father's.

It's the largest frigging Lava Lamp I've ever seen, is what it is. Apparently they make them even bigger, but this one's plenty big.

If you look carefully at the photo you can see reflections of my father's television and a lamp. I don't quite know why I'm bringing this to your attention, but... Yeah, I've got nothing.




Was it horribly obvious?

I figured.

Pointless photo of the day:

One last look at the mountains.

That's it for today, folks. Busy with some other things just now.

A little bit of history

Today's photo features a former guard tower from Camp 130, a WWII German Prisoner of War camp on the site of the present Barrier Lake Field Station.

Prisoner of War camp in Alberta, Dee?

Yep.

We had, according to this list, several. And if you want more information I'll point you here so I don't have to bother with a bunch of quotes.

World War history isn't exactly my strong suit. I'll leave it to those with more of an interest/background in that sort of thing. Really, I was just looking for a reason to post the picture...

I'm going to look at some of the Illustration Friday entries now. Have a good war read, if you decided to follow one of those links. If not, have a good whatever else.

Communal living

I really should be cropping these photos before I post them, but what the heck. It doesn't hurt to get things fresh from the camera now and then.

What you're looking at here are bits and pieces of the Barrier Lake Field Station, which hosted the conference that I was at. I mentioned the conference, right? Yeah, I thought so.

I had half a thought to talk more about the conference itself, but I've decided against it since it really wouldn't be of much interest to the general public (or my two fans, probably). We came, we saw, we conferenced (is too a word. For today, anyway), and I for one left with a general sense of... well, exhaustion.

Exhaustion partly because I didn't sleep worth a damn most of the time I was there (big surprise, I know), but also partly because of the whole constantly being around people thing. I can't help it. I'm used to a fair amount of alone time, and being surrounded by people for most of the day every day gets a little hard on my loner brain. It's tricky to keep myself switched on for that long.

What you're seeing in this photo is the Main Lodge, which houses the dining hall and the women's dorm. Yep, separate dorms for men and women because boys are icky.

Or something. I don't know.

Dorm living is an interesting experience when you haven't done it for over twenty years (twenty years? Really? Geez, I'm old). The dorm we were in wasn't bad as far as dorms go. Reasonably quiet, and thick enough walls that you couldn't hear every time your neighbour turned over in bed. I think you'll agree that that's a good thing. We also were a small enough group that we didn't have to share rooms, and that was definitely a good thing. Two words, folks: BUNK BEDS. Can you imagine your friendly neighbourhood OLF not only dealing with sharing a room but dealing with bunk beds as well? Just as well that we didn't have to go there.

The dorm wasn't bad, as I said, but there are some inevitable downsides to the whole dorm experience. Generally they have to do with the bathroom. It's not really ever a good thing when a bunch of women find themselves sharing a two-stall, two-shower bathroom. I tend to shower fairly early in the evening to avoid the rush so that was ok (although we were warned that there wasn't a lot of hot water so we were encouraged to take Marine showers. As in, water on to dampen, off to lather, on to rinse. *SHIVER*), but even the simple fact of having to get back into all of one's clothes directly after having a shower is never, ever going to be comfortable to me. Nothing like trying to get yourself back into the ol' underwire suspension device while only towel-dry. I'm not a nudist by any means, but I can tell you that by the time I got home I was more than ready for the freedom of going about my business in whatever degree of undress I felt like.

Um, in my apartment, of course. I did get dressed to go outside.

Anyway, I managed to survive four and a half days of enforced socialisation almost completely intact. Yay me. On the off-chance (waaay off-chance) that any of the Field Station staff stumble upon the blog I'd just like to say thanks for taking such good care of us and that I miss having someone make me breakfast. And lunch. And supper. And two fresh-baked snacks a day...




Ok, so the communal living thing isn't all bad.

There WILL be a post. Honest.

Tonight, maybe. Or tomorrow failing that. I have a bit to catch up on, internettally-speaking.

As a preview, however, please enjoy a photo that isn't of last summer's flowers or a miscellaneous spider. This, boys and girls, in all the glory of morning light, is Mount Baldy, and it's where I spent most of this past week.

Well, not actually on Mount Baldy. Near it, though. Details (and more shots of vaguely mountainous-looking things) to come.

----------

Oh, before I forget... as of this morning I've been aunted again! Congrats to my brother and sister-in-law, and big brother Colin. I hope everything there is well, and I hope I actually get to meet the boy before he's married.

Now you see it...

You know how that ends, I'm sure. I shouldn't have to type it.

I'll be doing a bit of a disappearing act for the next few days. Just as well, really, since I still feel like hell and am obviously not in the mood to blather. Anyway, I'll be heading to a conference on Sunday and won't be back until Thursday. Not sure if I'll be in to post tomorrow, so I thought I may as well do my vanishing trick now. See you in a while.

Feel free to poke the Not-Toronto office with a stick if you need some reading material.

Sorry, but I don't really feel like whinging

And since I don't actually have anything but whinge and snot in my brain at the moment, I'm guessing that this post isn't going anywhere.

So enjoy the photo.

Bye now.

Ugh.

So, you've probably guessed that I did end up getting sick. Am sick. I'd really like to go home, to be honest, but I was needed to cover a shift today so here I am.

My head doesn't work at all, but here I am.




I give it about an hour before my head hits the desk.

Talk at you... sometime or other. No promises.

So what are you going to whinge about today, Dee?

I dunno. My lack of new photos? I really need to get the camera out next week. There's only so long that these leftovers will last, even on this blog.

I could complain about my head, I suppose, but so far things haven't gotten any worse than they were yesterday so I don't want to jinx that. I've obviously picked up something, but maybe if I'm really REALLY lucky it'll turn out not to be the office crud. We've had some very sick people around the workplace, and I definitely don't want to be one of them.

I could talk about my new toy courtesy of my father, but then I wouldn't be whinging and I haven't actually had much of a chance to use it yet anyway. Guess we'll save that one, then. And when it does come up let's hope I'm not complaining about it. It's not the type of thing that should lead to complaints, even from me.

So... um...

A little help here?





Well, I suppose I could whinge slightly about my sketchbooks. Or how I use them, rather. I have a couple of moleskine sketchbooks that I really like (one for sketching and one for watercolour, I should say. And anyone who's looked at my other blog knows what a joke it is that I have a watercolour book). That's a big thing for me, because I get so bored with the paper in most sketchbooks or field sketchbooks that I find myself not using them at all. The moleskines, though, I like. The moleskines I use. There's a but, though. As in, but why can't I make myself use them better, then?

Notice that I didn't say use them properly. I don't think there's a way to use sketchbooks properly since different things work for different people. What I'd like for me, though, is to stop being so freaking nitpicky. In my mind I'd like my notebooks to be places for experimentation. Places to play in. To try new things, new techniques, new subjects. Places where the end result shouldn't matter as long as I've learned something from them.

But I don't do that.

Not as much as I'd like to, anyway.

See, I get too caught up in the permanence of a book. If I doodle something in a book it's going to stay there for as long as the book exists. There's that air of setting in concrete that makes me nervous to stretch things too much. An effed-up doodle is always going to be there staring me in the face unless I tear the page out and I really don't want to do that. So what do I do if I'm in the mood to do all those things I'd like to do with the sketchbook but I'm not sure how it'll turn out? Oh, I usually end up using a cheap sketchpad instead. Tear-out sheets and all. And then what happens?

Ok, here's the really stupid part.

Fairly often things turn out well enough that I find myself wishing I'd used the moleskine instead because it'd be nice to have a more permanent copy.

HOW STUPID IS THAT?

Pretty stupid.

I think I may have a solution, though. The solution's pretty stupid as well, but it just might work for an olf like me. I think that maybe, just maybe, I'll buy myself another moleskine sketchbook. One of the smaller ones, maybe. Or maybe even one of the ruled notebooks rather than a dedicated sketchbook.

And how would that solve anything, Dee?

Well, if I got another sketchbook and devoted it entirely to experimentation, that would mean I could keep my current "good" sketchbook for more finished doodles and actually experiment in the other one. Right?

Yeah, yeah, I know. But it sort of makes sense in my head. Sort of.




Anyway, there's your whinge for the day. I'm off to check out the Illustration Friday entries (so far), since I finally posted mine this morning (I don't let myself look at any until I've done one myself. More olf, yes). Or maybe buy a moleskine. We'll see what the day brings.

geh

Pointless photo? Pointless, as usual.

Head? Hurts. Sinus-headache-hurt.

Bugger.

Yes, someone here is decidedly not a happy camper this morning. I think I'll spare you all the fun of a prolonged whinge, though, and just say that my thoughts are murky enough that they don't even qualify as blather.

That's sad, don't you think?

I may be back later in the day to answer the Plinky prompt (which would be the first time in ages), but we'll see how it goes.

Bugger, did I mention?

Uh oh

Remember how I told you that most of the staff here has some form of the crud?

Yeah.

Guess who woke up with a stuffy nose and a scratchy throat this morning.

Shouldn't be too hard to guess, all things considered.

Yep, at the moment I'm feeling a bit... let's say delicate. I'm hoping that it's just a coincidence (a really really highly unlikely coincidence) and that I'm not actually coming down with something. I've had enough something already this year, frankly.

If only I'd been a Calgary Flame. I hear you get taken care of if you're a Calgary Flame...




Thus endeth today's whinge, by the way. I need to get back to work. Later, all.

Something about... work, I guess

Taking a quick break from editing the newsletter, which pretty much always drives me nuts in some way or other. Not sure I even want to elaborate on that, since it'll likely come up in the next few days out of sheer frustration no matter what I do, so...

Oh, I dunno. Wheat's playing Python's greatest hits in the background, and part of me would rather sing along than blog. Poor blog. You've been so neglected lately, and are likely going to be even more so in the near future since I'll be away the weekend after next.

Maybe it's time to poke the Not-Toronto office with a stick or something again.

I so have nothing. Can you tell?

I do have a bit more sleep under my belt (is that where you keep it?) than I have in the past while, but even then I'm getting really sick of waking up at COMPLETELY STUPID IN THE MORNING. Of course, at this point I don't know what I'd do if I ever actually slept like a normal person. Having real, unfoggy thoughts might be a little bit scary after all this time.

So there you have it. Me, unfocussed, and about to get back to work or something approximating it.

You know? I'm not sure I even want to read this back...




So I won't.

Sigh

As I said to Wheat a bit earlier, the last thing a person with effed-up sleeping habits needs is to have the clocks change.

I am so sleep-deprived right now that it isn't even funny. Well, it's never terribly funny to be sleep-deprived, honestly, but this is getting a little ridiculous. Monday I was semi-functional, Monday night I would have been better off spending the night watching infomercials for all the sleep I got, and last night? Last night I decided to change strategies and try going to bed later to make sure I was properly tired. Like I wasn't already. Anyway, I went to be around midnight, got to sleep sometime after one, and... WOKE UP AT FOUR. FOUR IN THE FREAKING AM.

*insert random epithet here*

I feel useless, and I'm kind of tired of feeling useless.




Actually, I'm just plain tired.

Later, folks.

----------

Edited to add this, because some birthdays just have to be celebrated. Forty? Sheesh.

You know how I never seem to post on Mondays?

Or at least, I didn't seem to post on Mondays in October?

What do you say we stick with that in November?

Yep. Translate the above as: I've got nothing. See you tomorrow.

If I have anything then...

We're all gonna die

So let's look at a pretty flower for a while.

Ah.

Feel better?

Well, Alberta's managed to bungle the whole H1N1 vaccination thing so badly that they've just announced they're closing the clinics (for the moment... and as far as I know the clinics only ever opened in the major cities anyway) because of overwhelming demand, and when they do open again it'll only be for those in the high-risk groups.

Way to go, Alberta. This after spending weeks telling us that we should all get flu shots and that everyone will be able to get flu shots and that it was REALLY REALLY important to get flu shots. Then they were surprised somehow to see thousands of people lining up for hours to get flu shots?

Yep. Well effed up, government.

But they promise that we will all get flu shots, you know. Just not right now.

Oh well. It's not like I'd even decided whether to get a flu shot anyway. And no, it's not because I'm terribly worried about the safety or the efficacy (although I think it's important to question both the safety and the efficacy, frankly. There's nothing wrong with wanting more information. Forget that step and eventually we'll all be drinking the Kool-Aid). It's... hmmm... come down to it, I don't know. I guess it's nothing more than the mere fact that I hadn't decided whether or not to do it, that's all.

There was a time in my life when the mere presence of a needle would have decided it for me, though. I was a huge needle-phobe. And yes, I do know that no one especially likes needles, but I was terrified. Terrified to the point that to this day if you examine my back end (not that I'm in any way suggesting that you should do that. Maybe just take my word for it) you'll probably be able to find the scar left behind when the nurses at the hospital tried to give me a shot of something or other before I had my tonsils out as a child. Seems to me it was two nurses and my mother holding me down, and even then I'm damned lucky I didn't manage to break the needle off in my rump because of the struggle.

I'm a lot easier to deal with now, I promise.

Still, there's always that little kid in the back of your mind going AAAAAAH!!! AAAAAAH!!! AAAAAAH!!! at the thought of a needle, isn't there?

Moot point anyway now, though, since who knows when I might have even the slightest chance of getting a flu shot even if I really wanted one?





Well done, stupid Alberta.

Cats

Cats are weird.

And if you think that you may vaguely remember this photo, that's possible. I might have used it before. I was too lazy to get out the camera just now (when I decided to blather about the cats) to take a new one, so I'm recycling.

That's Max on the left and Penny on the right. Or, Smack on the left and Lumpy on the right. They answer to either. Or at least I call them either. They don't seem to mind.

Because they're cats, some of you are saying. Don't let that fool you. Cats know their names; sometimes they just don't care that you're calling them, that's all.

Technically these are my father's cats because I can't have pets in my apartment, but since I'm here pretty much every weekend I'm considered part of the service crew as well. If Lumpy demands a shoulder ride around the house or Smack wants his belly rubbed at too freaking early in the morning, I'm the one on call.

It's funny how cats decide that different people are good for different things. Penny knows that I'm the one to go to for shoulder rides, and if she wants to sit with someone she'll sit beside my father but on me. She's only a part-time lap cat, I guess. And as far as Max goes, my father's the nighttime person and I'm the morning person. Max has his set rounds. He also knows that I can be suckered into filling his treat ball in the morning if it's empty, while the father figure generally can't be.

Hmmm. Let's sidetrack for a moment from the cats' general weirdness and talk about the treat ball (which, before anyone says anything about the use of too many treats, I should tell you that we fill with regular cat food. It's just a different cat food from what's in their dishes, so the cats think it's treats. Works for all of us). I said it was his treat ball because it originally was, but I suppose it's their ball now. You see, when we got the ball years ago Max figured it out pretty quickly. Bat the ball with your paw; food comes out. Penny, on the other hand... well, Penny's a bit... shall we say floaty? That'll work. Penny knew that there was food in the ball, she'd watch Max get it out, she'd snap up any of the leftovers on the floor... but she never really got the concept of the ball itself. "Come on, Penny. Hit the ball. Food will come out. You can do it." Her answer? Usually a blank stare and a meep. Well, later a maow. It took a while for her full voice to develop.

Anyway.

One day (years later. Literally years) Penny nudged the ball a tiny bit with her nose. She may have been trying to lick it or something, I don't know. Whatever she was aiming for, the ball moved and food came out.

It was Penny's eureka moment.

Now poor Max has to share his secret food stash. He still uses his paw and Penny still uses her nose, but they're both equally capable of getting food out of a plastic ball. A useful skill to have, don't you think?

I suppose I should take a pointless photo of Max and his ball, because he really does have finesse with the thing. And then you'd be able to see (getting back to weirdness) that he currently has no eyebrows.

I have no idea why. Something must have irritated his eyes and he overgroomed, maybe. All I know is that when I came here last weekend the cat had no hair above his eyes. None on the lids, either. It's starting to grow back now, but he looks pretty freaky.

Appropriate for the day, I suppose.

Happy Halloween, everyone. Stay away from weird cats.




Which, I suppose, would be all of them...

Out, damned song

What? It's Shakespeare.

Well, almost Shakespeare.

Oh, if you honestly don't know just google Macbeth Act V Scene I. And the only reason she wasn't damning a song is that she was too worried about murder to care about earworms.

And before I go any further, the photo is COMPLETELY pointless. Don't wear yourself out looking for hidden meanings.

I need to keep this short(ish) today because my wrist brace is completely buggering up my typing and I don't need to give the backspace key THAT much exercise. And why a wrist brace, Dee? Old injury that hurts sometimes, that's all. Compression helps, but it also means my wrist/hand balance is totally off at the moment. And, apparently, the heel of my hand keeps hitting that Windows button on the keyboard (does anyone ever really use that thing?) without my feeling it. I've found myself in places today that I never even knew existed, computerily speaking.

Anyway.

I'm a bad one for earworms because I have a combination of a pretty good musical memory and an irritatingly olf mind. Once my brain latches on to a tune it's really, really, really hard to get that tune to take a break. There are a couple of tricks that work a bit (Monty Python's Traffic Lights song being one of them, unfortunately. I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe because the musical brain can't tolerate it for too long?), but for the most part I tend to hang on to a song until something even more insistent (or is that persistent?) comes along.

Right now? Well, I'd be happy to get rid of the Souling Song any time soon. Seems an odd choice, I know... to anyone who doesn't watch Letterman. You see, Sting performed his version of the song the other night (which was probably completely boggling to his North American audience -- most of whom would have never heard of soul cakes -- even though the song itself is very appropriate for this time of year), and while it was very pleasant and well put together it does NOT NEED TO STILL BE IN MY HEAD.

Just saying.

Geez, there have been a lot of parentheses in this post.





I need to sing about traffic lights for a while now, ok?

Ok.

Now the funny thing is...

... that when I haven't really had the chance to blog for a while I sort of forget that I have a blog.

This ought to be good, then. What to talk about?

Well, I suppose I could mention that since I haven't taken too many depressing autumn photos (or even non-depressing autumn photos) you're going to have to put up with some of the stuff that's been sitting on my nerdstick for a while. I thought today's web might be at least a little Halloween appropriate, though. Or at least that's going to be my excuse.

Hmmm. Kind of slow so far, don't you think? What else, then?

I could, I guess, tell you that the crud has attacked the office to the point where the first words I heard when I came in this morning were "don't touch anything! We just disinfected your desk". That sounds promising, yes? Yep, a good part of the staff is off being generally infectious. And when I protested that I'd already had the crud (for a whole fricking month, if you remember), Wheat gave his opinion that this particular crud is a different crud.

Great. Just great. It doesn't help that I spent yesterday morning doing programs at a school, aka The Home of All Things Viral. Well, maybe not videos. But you see where I'm going here. Send a person who seems to catch every damned thing going around to a school -- where EVERYTHING goes around -- and it's not too hard to predict the results.

Sigh.

I felt like I should be bathing in hand sanitizer by the time I got back.

Speaking of which (hand sanitizer, not bathing in hand sanitizer), it's definitely proliferating around here. Part of that's a general OH&S flu season precaution, but part of it is, I'm sure, the general media fascination with OMG WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE IF WE COUGH/SNEEZE/TOUCH ANYONE/TOUCH OUR MOUTHS/TOUCH ANYTHING stories. Not that I'm against precautions. I think you'll find that I mentioned just above that I seem to have caught pretty much everything going around this year, and I'd be very happy to have that stop. It's just... there comes a point, doesn't there? There comes a point where you just have to trust that your immune system will do it's best to keep you going.

And also, more worryingly, there comes a point where fatigue sets in and people stop listening to warnings and then stop taking precautions altogether.

There's only so many times a person can cry wolf, you know.

And do I think we're hearing too much wolf right now? Oh, I don't know. I'd make a joke about it just being coyotes or foxes, but coyotes definitely don't work in that particular punchline at the moment.

And how freaky was that? Poor girl.

Anyway, back to work now.




And, hopefully, back to more regular posting.

Be vewy vewy quiet...

Yep. The blog IS being vewy quiet. And will probably continue to be for another day or so. Try not to miss me too much.

Ah, headache

The pointless photo is of the trees outside my apartment at night.

Oh yeah, and the moon's in there somewhere too.

----------

There are many things that my mother left me, some good and some bad.

In the bad file would be her neck.

Well, not literally her neck, of course. That'd be weird. She did, however, leave me the genetic capability of carrying on the family bad neck, and I can't say that I'm especially grateful for it.

I had a bit of an off-night overall, and unfortunately that off-night must have led to sleeping in a bad position. The result, as was obvious as soon as I tried to get up, is that I'm not turning terribly well to one side at the moment.

Yay, stupid neck.

It's annoying not being able to move your head properly, of course, but that's not the worst part about the neck thing. The problem is that over the course of the day gravity starts to get a hand in and compresses things in the wrong position, and that leads to headaches.

Like I need more headaches in my life.

Anyway, I guess this all decides what I'll be doing for the rest of the day. The drive back home will be uncomfortable but manageable, and then I'll just sprawl out on the bed and try not to move in the wrong fashion. Oh, and hope that when I go to sleep tonight things decide to shift in a good direction rather than a worse direction.

It's always a bit of a crap shoot when the neck's not happy.

There must be something out there in silly video land to make me a little more happy, right? Let's see what I can come up with...

Ok, how about this? You have to follow it with this, though, or it won't make as much sense.

Going now.

WHAT POST???

And how pointless is this photo?

Yeah, I know. It's been a pretty inconsistent week for the blather. I've got a feeling that this post will continue the trend.

It's not that I don't have thoughts, you know. I do. They're just on the weird side today, that's all.

For example?

Well, how about "American" cheese? I honestly felt like I could write an entire post about processed cheese and how boggling it is to me that a country which is capable of making some decent cheeses chooses to name FAKE cheese after itself. Not that I'm a total snob about processed cheese -- it definitely has its place in my life -- but if the best you can do is name pseudocheese after your country I do have some questions.

Like... why do Americans insist on calling back bacon Canadian bacon when we Canadians don't?

Yep, this line of thought could have easily become a whole post. Could have, except that I've already posted it.

See? Even my pointless thoughts go around in circles.

So what does that leave me? Not a helluva lot, to be honest. And my usual pointless game site was down this morning so I ended up playing Plants vs Zombies instead (no, I'm not going to link to it. You're all just as handy with the google thing as I am, I'd imagine) and... I think I may have game brain now.

And I need to think of something to doodle that fits the word fast, apparently. Seeing as there's nothing fast about me and my doodles, this may be more of a challenge than someone with game brain can handle.

Ah well.

I need to go put stuff in the dryer now. Catch you later.

[/lame nonsense]

But I don't like it...

This is the time of year where normally I'd be posting photos of autumn colour (you know, leaves. And other stuff that perhaps isn't leaves. No, most likely leaves) in a futile attempt to prove that looking forward to winter isn't depressing me. HOWEVER. This year's early freeze caught most of the plants by surprise, and as a result most of the leaves that are still on the trees are nothing but brown.

I refuse to post a bunch of photos of brown leaves.

She says, after posting a photo of brown leaves. That's different, though. They were from last year, if I remember right.

No, really. That does too make it different.

----------

Yesterday found me manning a booth for the Centre a couple of hours. Normally I don't mind that too much, but there were two problems I had to deal with this time around. The first was that I'd had very little sleep (explains yesterday's non-post, don't you think?) which made it hard to look terribly enthusiastic about the place I was supposed to be representing. Although I did try. The second? Was the clowns.

I hate clowns.

Ok, I don't actually hate clowns, but I really don't like them much. And when I'm tired I tend to get a bit whiny about the things that I don't like. I'm reasonably sure that these particular clowns sensed that in me, because they pretty much left me alone. I hear from my coworkers who also did shifts at the booth that they were pestered by the clowns, but the clowns hardly even tried with me.

Smart move, clowns. I don't like clowns.

There are other things I don't like, of course.

Things like the banging and thumping that the apartment's heating system makes when they turn the radiators back on for the season. That's great.

I also don't like Twitter much. I think it's kind of annoying and trivial. Not that I'm not annoying and trivial too, but at least I know that the vast majority of my annoying and trivial isn't at all interesting to the public at large so I keep it to myself. I figure that my two fans get plenty of annoying and trivial right here on the blog.

Let's see... what else?

Well, I don't like green peppers. Or politics. Or pigeons. And if you're thinking that one of these things is not like the other things, then you're right. The green peppers really didn't belong with the pigeons or politics.

This is all kind of negative today, don't you think? I should probably do something about that. On the old blog I once posted a list of... I guess it was about fifty or so things that I liked. No theme to them or anything; it was just things that I liked. Don't bother looking for it, by the way. I deleted it when I changed the old blog into Doodle Central.

I should probably do another one of those lists.

But not right now.






I like this, though.

And I like that this became an actual post when I wasn't really intending it to...

Nothing

Yeah, I've got nothing. As was probably made evident by the fact that I haven't bothered to post for a couple of days.

So... photo, I guess. Sunflower becomes bird feeder. And, um, bird toilet as well.

Yep.

I'm going to stop typing now, ok?

Wild wild life

Sorry (well, not really) for the post title. My two fans should know by now that just about everything in life is a song cue for me.

Um, anyway. Now that we've had our Talking Heads break, let's talk about the photos. That's right, today we're going to TALK about the photos even if it means that the blog turns into a pumpkin.

They're a bit fuzzy because they're zoomed shots, but you should still be able to tell that the top one shows a squirrel coming out of my father's squirrel feeder, and the second one is the same squirrel just before he started swearing at me.

The demonic eyes are just because of the camera flash... although I have to admit that I likes me some demonic red squirrels.

I bought the feeder for my father last year. The idea is that the squirrel goes into the hole, then into the jar for the peanuts. Red squirrels are generally pretty good at robbing bird feeders, so a purpose-built feeder really shouldn't be a problem for the squirrels to figure out.

Well, my father put up the feeder last November. And it sat. And sat. And sat. And finally this squirrel figured it out.

About two months ago.

Yep.

No one ever claimed that squirrels were especially smart.

I had another wildlife encounter in my father's yard this morning, but no pictures this time because it was raining a bit so I didn't take the camera with me. About... oh, I guess nine o'clock or so I looked out the bedroom window as I was folding my bed up and noticed a mule deer coming into the garden for breakfast. The menu today, if you're interested (or even if you're not) was sunflower seeds from the old seed heads, then leftover apples from one of the trees, then a combo of Mountain Ash (that'd be Rowan for those of you across the pond) berries and leaves, then a quick check of the bird feeder to see if anything interesting was spilled, and then... well, she moved to a part of the yard that I couldn't get a good look at through the window so I went outside to see what she was up to. Yes, that's right. I went to talk to the deer.

It's not that weird. Mulies don't spook too easily, and since it was a single doe it wasn't likely that she'd do anything but stare at me. Which is exactly what she did.

She'd been chewing on the dead sweet pea vines, which kind of surprised me. There's still enough green leaves in the yard that survived the freeze that I didn't think dried-up sweet peas would have much appeal.

At any rate, she let me get close enough that I could see she was in pretty good condition before she ambled off (yes, ambled. I told you that mulies don't spook easily), and then I went back inside to dry off.






Erm... the end, I guess. This story didn't really have a moral or anything.

Feel free to add one in the comments if you're so inclined.





Edited to add that maybe I shouldn't have linked to the Talking Heads video. Things have since become a Talking Heads fest around here. Ah well. Could be worse. Much, much worse. In the mean time, I'm an ordinary guy BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE...

Bang

As usual, the pointless photo is pointless. There's no hidden meaning. Don't even bother trying to figure it out.

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I'm a pretty noise-intolerant person. Sudden noises, I mean (although general noise mostly annoys me too). It's one of the reasons that I don't sleep well (just one of the reasons, though. There are others. Sadly. Otherwise I could cure the whole thing with a good set of ear plugs), it's probably one of the reasons that I've never wanted children, and it's definitely one of the reasons that I enjoy my own company.

I can usually guess when I'm about to make a sudden noise. Other people? Not so much.

I have the nerves of a cat when it comes to sudden noises, and have had for my entire life as far as I know. I can remember being totally freaked out by noises, to the point of wanting to run from the room if I knew a loud noise might possibly happen.

Which is why I could never understand the joys of KerPlunk.

You remember KerPlunk (or Kerplunk or Ker-Plunk or, even worse, Ker-Plunk!... as though it's something to be happy about)? That evil game where you have to keep pulling sticks out and watching the marbles shift until you just KNOW that there's going to be the horrible sound of marbles falling any minute but you don't know for sure when? Yeah, that's fun.

In a something-just-exploded-in-the-microwave kind of way.

I've played plenty of games of KerPlunk in my day. It was what you did when you were a kid back then. Everybody seemed to want to play KerPlunk so I'd generally end up playing KerPlunk too, but honestly? I think I enjoyed putting the sticks into the cylinder more than anything. It was almost fun to try to weave the things through to make a proper, challenging thicket... but then, inevitably, someone would want to actually play with the damned thing. And there I'd be, faced with the anticipation of a sound that I just knew was going to hurt my brain, but not knowing exactly when I'd end up jumping to the ceiling.

KerPlunk was torture, but there was a worse thing in the game department. That's the main reason for this post, by the way. I spent a good part of my morning trying to remember the name of the thing (kind of like you'd try to remember the name of the kid who'd always get off the teeter-totter juuust when you were at the very top), and I finally did.

It was Bang Box.

Bang Box. The game where you'd blow up a balloon, put it under a cardboard cover, and then take turns hammering plastic nails into the thing until there was no more room for the balloon to wiggle and it would suddenly POP!

DOES THAT SOUND LIKE FUN???

God, I hated Bang Box.

I think it may have scarred me for life, actually.






I'm going back to my quiet little corner of the internet to try not to think of the scary noises anymore. If you're wanting something more to look at, though, Sam's Toybox has some pretty cool vintage games. IF you can get past the colour scheme...

Something about bloody birthdays, I guess

Today's pointless photo is of apple blossoms. Hey, remember apple blossoms? How the h-e-double-hockey-sticks did it get so close to November so quickly?

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So. This afternoon on my way to my father's place I decided it was time to stop putting off the task of paying the Alberta government sixty-five dollars for the pleasure of a really bad photograph.

Yep. Time to renew the driver's licence again, which should tell you A) that I have a birthday coming up reasonably soon, and B) that it's one of those birthdays that ends in a multiple of five.

I'm so freaking thrilled that I can't even express it.

Now, normally I really couldn't give a rat's bum about my birthday. It was always more my mother's thing than mine to make a fuss over birthdays, and really? Rightly so. Birthdays should mean more to mothers than to their children. After all, mothers are the ones who do all the work (and believe me, I was -- in fun -- reminded every birthday about how much work it was. Something about being two weeks overdue, being induced on my father's birthday, but then being too stubborn to share a birthday with him, if I recall the list correctly). Mothers should be allowed to celebrate, if that's what they want. As for the children... well, I don't feel like I had much to do with the whole being born thing so why should I act like it was some sort of accomplishment on my part?

Everybody's born, right?

I suppose this all sounds a bit sour grape-ish, but it's not meant to. I honestly just don't have the need to make my birthday a big deal, that's all.

The birthday's conspiring against me this year, though.

You see, it could be considered a big one. Biggish. It doesn't really feel big, but it's a significant enough number that it draws attention. Makes people feel like you should celebrate it somehow. There's been murmurings to that effect, anyway.

Now here's the kicker.

The one year that She Who Doesn't Bother With Birthdays might actually be talked into celebrating at least a little... she's about to become She Who's At A Conference On Her Birthday.

Seriously. I'm going to be at a conference for work.

Bloody birthdays, anyway.

In a normal year this wouldn't have even bothered me, but just because this one's a supposed milestone I suddenly feel cheated. I'm rapidly hitting full-on five-year-old in the strength of my poutitude, let me tell you.

And I'm sooo not five anymore.

And my driver's licence photo was REALLY REALLY BAD...






Bloody birthdays. Who'd have 'em?