There's a hole... there's a hole...

But it's not in the bottom of the sea.

Is it cruel to attempt to give people earworms? Yeah, sorry (but not really).

Today's hole kind of fascinates me. It's in a vacant lot across the street from my father's place, in the excavation left after the house there was torn down. The hole appeared sometime last year, or at least that's when I first noticed it.

Obviously something made the hole, but I really don't know what since I don't want to get close enough to disturb whatever's living there. Foxes, most likely. I suppose I should be a good naturalist the next time I'm home and look for tracks... but in some ways it's more fun to not know whose home it is. When I was a kid I expect that I would have decided it was home to the neighbourhood troll or something.

Not that I believed in trolls. Just that I had a pretty active imagination and was fairly neurotic.

Still am, come to it.

But I'm pretty sure that there are no trolls living across the street even at that.

----------

In other news, I have no topic. I have a brain problem, but not really a topic. The problem is this:

I went to bed stupidly early last night because I was stupidly tired (I might have mentioned). Before I went to bed I informed my brain that I had no early programs today so that means SLEEP IN. Sleep in, brain, get it? The brain's response? YAY! It's four in the morning! LET'S GET UP!!!

Is it wrong to want to beat your own brain into submission?

So anyway, here I am. Much less sleep than I was planning to get, vaguely headachy because of that (oh, and the fact that my brain neglected to remind me to take an antihistamine before I left for work. Thanks, brain), and wearing my weekend pony tail because apparently my hair is attached to my brain and would NOT behave not matter what I attempted with it this morning.

Happy, yes.

And with that...

I guess that's all I have that's pseudopostworthy today. It was a good try, even if it was less than successful in the end. It meant well. It'll make me sad to have to take it out back and shoot it.

Pointless photo and what else do you people want from me?

Sorry. I've been busy.

I think I'm getting too old to be busy, to be honest.

And too old to live on granola bars. This is the second day in a row where all I've had time to get for lunch is a granola bar.

I'm hungry.

And tired.

This is sounding somewhat familiar...

Anyway. Tomorrow I should, Whomever willing, have time to sit down and actually write a post. I probably won't have much to say, but I should have the time to say it in.

As for the days after, though, expect no posts at all. I'm working at our sister site on the weekend, so computer time will likely be nothing.

Not that it's much right now, but there you go.

I need to go do other stuff now. See you tomorrow.

Pointless photo of the day:

That's all for now. It's been a long day and I'm tired.

And hungry.

And tired.

I need to go now.

Stupid photoeditor games

This will be info-light today. My head hurts.

So. Photos.

When I post photos on the blog, they're pretty much always edited in some fashion. Sometimes just cropped, but occasionally I'll do a bit of colour correction or something like that as well.

Sometimes, just to amuse myself, I go photoeditor stupid.

You know what I mean, I hope. Moving the sliders over to extreme positions, using a bunch of pointless filters or effects... that sort of thing. I don't usually save the results, but every once in a while I decide I like the modded-up version of a photo better than the original and it'll end up here on the blog.

Case in point? Today's featured saskatoon flowers. Up top you'll see the original shot (well, the cropped original), which isn't great. It's a bit fuzzy, for one thing. That's what led me to the editor.

I figured that maybe using the edge sharpener might help things look a little less out of focus, and I suppose it does a not-too-bad job considering that I'm using pretty basic, free editing software. I wouldn't win any prizes with the second version of this shot, but it does look a little clearer. I fiddled with the colour a bit as well, obviously, but it's still very much recognisable. Or at least I think it is.

Then... well, then things got silly.

I won't even tell you how many versions of this (completely pointless) photo I made.

Pointless versions of a pointless photo that's not even very good to start off with.

I really need a life.

Anyway, out of the weirder versions of the photo this one, for whatever reason, is the one I decided to keep.

I have no idea why, but now you're a part of the pointlessness too.

I'm going to go finish my headache now, ok?

Otherwise occupied

Well, ok, so teasing the ladybirds was actually how I was otherwise occupied yesterday. The cotoneaster hedge was full of evil Seven-spotted Ladybird Beetles, so expect a few more pictures of them to show up here on the blog in the next few days.

Yes, I finally have some new photos. Things are starting to look like spring AT LAST so I took a few shots yesterday. And picked up a few beetles here and there.

Do I have to remind you that being able to pick up ladybirds is a big thing for me? I was seriously, SERIOUSLY freaked out by insects when I was a kid. And now I spend way too much of my time taking pointless photos of them.

Who'd'a thunk?

Anyway, I'm not posting the post I was planning to post today because I'm currently otherwise occupied (ok, ok, not currently otherwise occupied. I'm currently occupied typing this post. Before that I was doing what I'm going to tell you about, and after I post this I'm going back to doing that. Just so we're clear and all) with my weekly perusal of Illustration Friday entries. It was a good prompt this week -- Cracked -- and people have come up with a lot of interesting takes on it. Mine's up as of this morning, if anyone's interested, but even if you aren't I'd encourage you to take a browse through some of the links on the site. I really find it fascinating to see where different artists' minds take them when offered one simple word.

My stuff? Not terribly artistic, but it's all right for a professed doodler. It gives me a chance to play, if nothing else.

We all need to play with our toys sometimes, even if Max gives me rather more help than I need when I'm trying to doodle here at my father's place.

Anyway. That's it for the post. Now, back to what I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted.



Erm, by myself.
That's kind of weird, don't you think?

We have found a witch!

May we burn her?

Ok, obviously today's pointless photo isn't of a witch. It's of a damselfly pretending that it's not there. They do that sometimes.

The reason for the witch reference (besides giving me an excuse to watch some classic Python... and, incidentally, now that the Pythons have their own channel at the Home of All Things in Plagiarised Video I feel much better about linking to Python sketches. Not that it would have stopped me anyway, but you know what I mean. Or at least I know what I mean, and that's what's important around here) is that I was thinking about witches as I was putting my hair up in its usual lazy weekend ponytail this morning. Not witches in the modern Neopagan sense, or witches in the traditionally-thought-of-as-evil sense. More in the stereotypical scraggly-haired wart-on-nose Halloween fashion.

You see, my mother was of the opinion that as women get older -- and especially as they get greyer -- they shouldn't wear their hair long because they tend to look like witches. Mom used to colour and perm her hair, but her daughter...

Well, these days I can look in the mirror every morning and cheerfully say Hello, Witch!

My hair, at the moment, is definitely long and definitely grey. Hmmm. Actually, not as grey as all that, really. It's mostly just grey around the fringe. The back has only a few intermittent grey hairs, and if I wear my hair down it looks like I just have some designer streaks (in grey. Weird designer, I guess) down the front. Compared to my mother at my age, I'm hardly grey at all.

If I wear my hair down. Which hardly ever happens, since it drives me buggy that way.

If I pull my hair back, you get to see my grey in all its grey glory. All its grey, grey glory.

A witch! She turned me into a newt!




I got better...

I have to be honest and say that the grey doesn't really bother me. If it did, it's easy enough to do something about it, after all. I've dyed my hair every once in a while in the past, actually, but that was more out of boredom than anything else. The fact that I'd generally do it with a semi-permanent 30-day washout dye should indicate that I certainly wasn't serious about trying to banish the DEADLY WITCHY GREYS!!!

It's grey. Whatever. And it would probably drive my mother nuts, but the thought of that sort of makes me smile.

Erm... not that I ever aimed to drive my mother nuts. I just think that it might have been fun to tease her about her witchy daughter.

As for the long part of the long, witchy, grey hair... I fully admit that it's a combination of cheapness and laziness. My hair grows stupidly quickly. Ridiculously quickly. If I tried to maintain some sort of style I'd be at the hair salon at least every three weeks to keep things in check. Who can afford that, for one thing, and who wants to hang around a salon that much?

Some people do, I suppose...
And I'm not judging anyone who does...
Really, I'm not...
I'm just not... the type.

Not that there's anything wrong with those of you who are. Seriously. We all find our ways to pamper ourselves; mine just happens to have nothing to do with beauty parlours.

Anyway. Some of my two fans will probably cringe when I say that I gave up on having a hairstyle years ago. Now, I generally get it cut once a year (twice if I'm feeling particularly ratty), enjoy having an actual style for a few weeks, and then just clip it back as it starts getting longer again.

I'm so not keeping the styling profession in business. Sorry, folks.




Well, I suppose that's about it from this particular witch. Look! Two blatherific posts in a row! This place might actually come to a point some day.

And then it would turn into a pumpkin...

Add a broom and a black cat and we'd really be set for October 31st.

Why it's never good to post this late in the day:

Well, I've had a busy day at work (which is why I didn't post earlier), I'm tired, I only came down briefly to post before I go have a shower and get ready for bed... and I ended up spending way too long on a round of game that shall remain nameless that went on for more levels than it had any right to considering how tired I am...

Yeah. Judgment at this time of day -- and this time of week -- not always the greatest.

So. Here we are. With a photo of wishful thinking (the irises definitely aren't out yet this year, which isn't a surprise considering our completely shitty chilly spring) and no idea what to post despite the fact that I actually have the time to do it at the moment.

Yeah.

Well, I guess I could tell you a few of the things I've learned after working at a nature centre for the last five million years:

• When you're the only naturalist in the building (say, during lunch hour) and not much of a birder, the only questions people will ask will be about birds.
• If you're ready way too early for a group, the group is guaranteed not to be on time.
• I like snakes a lot more than I like salamanders (honestly? That one surprised me a bit), but both of them are ok except at feeding time when they suddenly become SUPREMELY STUPID.
• Parent helpers are often harder to teach than the students that they came to help.
• You can get paid to draw pictures of spiders. Really. If you want to see some of them you'll have to check the other blog, though. Click the Doodles slide show on the sidebar to go to the web album. If you're so inclined, that is. Doesn't bother me either way if you are or aren't.
• A fair portion of my job would go away if people realised that they could probably find the answers themselves with a decent search engine and a little common sense.
• Many people lack common sense.
• You can take a science degree to avoid using the family teaching gene, but you're probably going to end up teaching in some form or other anyway.
• Insects aren't actually icky (honestly? That one surprised me a bit as well. I was petrified of insects when I was a kid).
• You can get paid for standing on a viewing deck and watching muskrats swim around. Well, as long as you remember to tell the other people on the viewing deck a few interesting facts about muskrats.
• There are people in the world who truly believe that we only let the animals out at certain times of the day for visiting hours. Seriously.
• Doing a Grade Five pond study with a buggered-up knee does not fix the aforementioned buggered-up knee.
• Having a naturalist on the other end of the phone listening to the lengthy story of the unusual squirrel who came to your bird feeder can be almost as comforting to you when you feel lonely as having a cat to keep you company would be. Actually, I'm just guessing on that one.
• Kids mature a lot faster today than they did fifteen years ago. And I'm not talking in wisdom here, folks. The hormones floating around your average middle school? Frightening.
• Interpreters are some of the weirdest, most multi-talented, most eclectic, and most amazing jack-of-all-trades that you could ever work with.
• Sometimes my job makes a difference in a small way, and that's pretty cool.
• People are, for the most part, well-meaning but a little odd.

I could go on, but my brain is starting to tell me that I shouldn't. Besides, I'm sure that at least some of my two fans are surprised that I was able to go on for as long as I did just now. Yes, I know that things haven't been exactly verbose here lately. I'll try to do better this weekend.

Or maybe I'll just draw some more spiders.

Either works.

I have no freaking idea

Photo? Not recent. But then you probably guessed that.

----------

So, yeah. I do realise that the blog's been pretty content-light the past while. The thing is, I've been busy at work AND I've been feeling mostly like crap. Take those things together and you either get effed-up, oddly entertaining blog entries or no blog entries at all.

Obviously things have been heading in the latter direction this time around.

I have time to type today, though.

Nothing to type about, but I do have the time to do it.

Yeah.




You know, sometimes if I just sit and type for a while a topic will suggest itself out of the blue.

Yeah.




Not happening today, I guess.

I should stop typing then rather than wasting even more internet space than usual.







Yeah.

Pointless pointlessness of the day:

Sorry, folks. Really, really not in the mood today.

Let's try for tomorrow then, ok?




Works for me.

Sooo tiiired

Early rhubarb looks like brains to me. This may be a function of being tired, but I don't think it is.

I'm really tired.

Again.

Or still, maybe.

You see, one of the problems with having the somewhat-flexible work schedule I have is that on the rare days when I absolutely have to be here at a given time, my brain spends most of the night reminding me that I have to be here at a given time. This time around my brain alarm started going off at about 3:30 am. For a 10:00 am shift.

Bugger.

I was doing all right this morning, but I've definitely hit crash now. There are things that I should get done today but it's a safe bet I'll be spending most of the next few hours staring into dead space and trying not to let my head fall onto the desk.

So much fun being me sometimes, you know?

Anyway. That's all from me for the moment.





You're welcome.

Pointless thing

This post, I mean. Not the violets. They actually have a point.

Anyway. Violets may have a point, but I don't. Not if we're talking blather-type point, at least.

I do have a stuffed-up head that's making me fairly unhappy, but there doesn't seem to be much point to that either. None that I can see, at least.

Anyway. Again. I need to get to work, so this'll be quick.

I'm going to be hit and miss as far as posting goes in the next couple of days. I'm working on Sunday, so I'm going to do my best with the rest of the long weekend to be far away from the office. And since far away from the office means far away from the computer... well, no posts. Obviously.

I haven't learned how to just think them in yet.

So... since I've got nothing but a mucous-filled brain, why don't we just end with some random music? This ought to work, I think.



Have a good weekend, everyone.

Feelin' Alsomething

Today's photo? Is pointless.

They usually are, you know.

It is, however, of a spider. On a windowsill. Spiders = good, you know.

----------

I was going to answer a Plinky prompt today rather than bothering to think of my own blather, but the current prompt is asking for three songs that need to be played at full volume... and I don't do that. Ever. If all you're hearing (or, rather, feeling) is the subwoofer thumping away, then you're not. actually. listening. to. a. song.

Seriously.

And people who put monstrous stereos in their stupid chromed-up half-tons and then cruise around neighbourhoods making everyone's windows shake are just plain ignorant pri nuisances.

Having said that, though... there are one or two songs that I've been known to listen to while lying on the floor with my head between the speakers.

You know, for full effect.

That was, of course, before I got a home theatre system. There's no need for that particular posture anymore, really. Back in my days of cheap bookshelf stereos, however (which were never actually on a bookshelf), head between the crappy speakers it was.

I live alone, I should mention. No one around to tell me it was weird, so therefore it doesn't count as being weird.

Anyway.

I've mentioned before (and probably linked to this same video, but do you notice my not caring?) that this is a definite head-between-the-speakers song. Maybe the definitive. And why? Not so much Joe Cocker. Not so much the song, even. It's... the piano. Artie Butler. Fantastic left hand (nothing wrong with the right one too, of course...). That piano rhythm sells the whole thing, as far as I'm concerned.

And if it was blasted at full volume? I... dunno. I think you'd be losing an awful lot of the finesse.

And having my ears hurt destroys ALL of the enjoyment.








I get the feeling that my next line should be including something about you darn kids getting off my lawn... but really? I've never been much for loud anything. I like my hearing. I like being able to use it. I don't see any need for my ears to bleed. Is that so wrong?

Whatever. I've run out of stuff now. I think I'll go back and listen to that song.




Do you suppose anyone would notice if I put my head down on the desk in between the tinny computer speakers?

Pointless photo of another day:

The sleep thing? Not happening.

Or not much, anyway.

I feel less than human just now.




Ah well. The flower's pretty, at least.

Pointless photo of the day. Again.

Honestly? I'm just not in the mood to be blathery.

I'm not in the mood to be much of anything today, actually.

Guess I'll just go home and pout, then. That'll fix us all.




Ok, REALLY honestly? I just need a good night's sleep is all. I'm not nearly as petulant as I sound. Still don't feel like blathering, though.

Pointless photo of the day:

That's all you're getting today. I'm tired.

See you tomorrow.

Or whenever.

Anyone have a pen handy?

The Plinky prompt of the moment is asking the eternal question: writing on paper or writing by keyboard?

Ok, so maybe it's not really an eternal question. It is a question, though. Let's have a go at answering it.

For me, I'd have to say that whether I write or type depends entirely on the application. If I'm writing stuff for work or if something needs to be done quickly it generally happens on the computer, but if I'm actually composing something I need to scribble. It's definitely an aid to the thought process to slow things down and really look at them as opposed to just letting words fly off of my fingertips. Despite what the somewhat unclear photo might seem to indicate, though, I do tend to use cursive writing rather than printing. This was just a fair copy from one of my poetry notebooks, that's all. Once I've finished mangling a poem I print it in a composition book. Print because it's easier to read, and pencil because, archivally speaking, it's less likely to fade into oblivion.

Unless someone rubs the page, of course.

And if you're desperate to read the WHOLE poem featured in the photo, I have two things to say: #1) Why, and #2) I think I posted it on the other blog at some point. You know, if you're really desperate for bad poetry.

Or just desperate in general, I guess.

In case anyone's interested (and I'm sure you are), when it comes to editing rather than just writing I can do most of the job via computer, but I absolutely need to see the final layout on paper. I'm not sure why, but I'm just not entirely comfortable with calling a project finished until I have the real, physical thing in my hands.

It occurred to me after I typed (typed... I don't plan these posts enough to bother handwriting them) the above that the whole needing the physical thing in my hands thing (is that enough things for everyone? I could add a few more if you feel lacking in things) is probably stemming from the same part of my brain that prefers the hands-on feel of sketching to the distancing effect of painting. Um... wait a sec. I talked about that here. No point in my typing it all over again, really.

Even less point in writing it out.

Done now. Happy Mothers' Day to all you mothers out there.






Hmm. That sounded a bit ruder than I'd intended it to...

The cat

Ok, to be honest? Really not feeling great. I'm on the third day of the aforementioned headache, I'm tired even though (for a change) I got a decent night's sleep, and I can't quite figure out if it's the allergies gone completely haywire or if I've managed to catch the latest virus yet again.

Bugger, I think would be the appropriate term.

On this blog, anyway.

So let's talk about the cat. Max, to be precise (and yes, he really does drag that old dog leash around the yard with him when he's tethered outside. Drags it very well, in fact). There are two cats here, but Max is the one more likely to be causing trouble. Penny's not perfect, however, no matter what the Toronto office might think. She just tends to be more discreet when she's being a problem.

Anyway. Max. Max has decided that I'm not allowed to have the bedroom door closed when I'm here at my father's place.

To be fair, he decided that quite a while ago. It's just that I got a recent reminder of the fact. Very recent. This morning recent, actually.

You see, I went to bed pretty early last night because I was feeling more or less lousy. I figured that I may as well close the door, because that way my dad didn't have to worry about any noise he was making. I did say I went to bed pretty early, right? Anyway, I sort of forgot that closing my door would mean a serious disruption in Max the Cat's daily schedule.

Max doesn't generally sleep with me, if that's what you were thinking. At least not for most of the night. He has, though, decided that it's necessary to show up on my bed early (sometimes EARLY) in the morning for a cuddle and to have his belly rubbed. Nothing wrong with that, I guess, and I suppose that it's nice to be wanted. Even if it is just for servicing the cat.

However.

The door was closed this morning.

Closed tightly.

What's a needy cat to do about something like that?

The last time I closed my door at night I made the mistake of just nudging it closed without fully latching it. I was woken up at godawful in the morning by the BANG! of a door being opened by the full weight of a cat being thrown at it. Seriously. He must have taken a run at the damned thing. This time, though, the door was closed. Fully closed. Sooo...

At about quarter to godawful this morning I was woken up by the sound of a very impatient cat reaching under the door and scratching the other side of it.

Seriously.

He used to do that when he was a kitten, but I'd rather hoped he'd forgotten.

No such luck.

And if you think you can ignore the sound of a very very VERY persistent cat telling you to open the door and let him in already, well... you can't.

You just can't.

It's not possible.

Anyway, I opened the door for His Highness, he sprang in with a what the hell took you so long?, and he got his belly rubbed.

Not a very interesting story, yes, but I think we can all agree that it was pretty pointless.




And that's it for my brain today, unless I manage to do something for Illustration Friday.

Which would be posted on the other blog anyway so I really don't know why I'm mentioning it here.

Kind of silly, come down to it.






Ah well.

Pointless photo of the day:

That's... probably it. I really, honestly have nothing.

Well...

I do have a headache.

Don't really want to type about a headache, though.

I guess that'll be it, then.

I'll try harder tomorrow. I promise.










Note that trying harder doesn't guarantee results, though. Just saying.
Done typing now.

Walk this way

Missed yesterday because I was busy. Will probably miss tomorrow because I'll be busy. Thursday? Hmm. Maybe I should just say that posting will be hit or miss this week and leave it at that.

Today's pointless photo is of... um... I don't know, actually. I did know at some point, but I can't remember now. Anyway, on to today's Plinky answer:

The shoes that are currently one my feet would probably have some people saying BORING!!! but I can't say that I care. They're sensible, supportive, moc-style walking shoes, and it's the kind of thing that's absolutely necessary when someone who has ankle problems knows that she's going to be on her feet for a good part of the day. So... I guess my shoes say that I value function over style.

That's true, actually.

I occasionally watch a certain makeover show, and it always makes me laugh to see them put almost everyone in pointy-toed heels. Are there really so many women in the world who can wear pointy-toes heels in their daily lives? Even those who haven't got buggered up joints? I guess I live on a completely different planet, then. Of course, working as I do at a nature centre, you'd have to imagine that it would look pretty silly if I showed up to do do a pond study in a fashionable pump (or a "cute" boot, or a gladiator wedge...).

Yes, I can easily admit that the "right" shoe completes an outfit. However, I'd sooner be able to walk and have a less-than-perfect outfit than have to sit down every couple of minutes but be looking FABULOUS!

Practicality rules, folks. that's the way it has to be when walking is a challenge.

Even if it does lead to boring sometimes.

In other news, I was sad to hear about Dom Deluise's death. Let's end with a couple for him, ok?

Here's one.
Here's one more.

Bye, Dom.

Ah. Purple.

I get so desperate for colour this time of year. Winter's over (although that's never really guaranteed in this country), things are thinking of growing, but everything's still so dull.

Dull dull dull.

The trees are dull, the grass is dull, and I find myself prowling my father's yard in search of anything -- anything -- that's not brown, grey, or dead-looking.

There's only so many photos you can take of brown, grey, and dead-looking.

So... the featured pointless photos of the day are of two things that weren't brown, grey, or dead-looking as of yesterday afternoon.

The top one is Pasqueflower or Prairie Crocus (Pulsatilla vulgaris if you want to look it up. I'm just not in the mood for the helpful linky thing today). It's a native species here, although you can buy it in the garden centres occasionally. It's not a crocus, even though most people call it that. It comes up early like the European Crocus, however, and it's purple.

A really pretty purple, actually. You're not getting the full idea here because it's only the first (sorry, that should be FIRST!!!) open flower in the yard. When the whole clump is in flower it's fairly showy.

The second purple thing of the day is your standard European Crocus (Crocus sp., oddly enough). The special thing about this one is that it's one of the few that the deer haven't eaten yet. It's currently living under a grate (I suspect that the grate may be the reason for its uneaten condition...), but I uncovered it to take the photo.

And... that would be your obvious statement of the day, I guess.

Anyway. I know that I'll have plenty of other colourful things to take photos of soon enough, but that doesn't make me any less grateful for the early purple things that take the edge off of the spring grow-already-dammit doldrums.

And for those of you who have had full-blown spring for a while now... I hate you.




So there.

Whatever

You know, I had a post started. Kind of gimmicky, slightly informative, mostly pointless...

It's gone now.

It's the weekend.

And honestly? I have an idea for yesterday's Illustration Friday prompt (which is kind of a weird one this week. Hierarchy? Really?) that I need a reference photo for, so I'd rather be sorting through the treasure trove of pointless photography on my nerdstick than formatting a silly, although possibly vaguely amusing, post.

Maybe another time.

Or not.

You might have noticed that things go that way here.

More vague than amusing, usually, but after all you do get what you pay for.

Anyway, enjoy today's ladybird, which is actually from a year or two ago. I should maybe go out and see if I can find some new ones this afternoon. The weather's supposed to be decent for a change, so there should be all sorts of creepy crawlies out looking for something to do.

Yes, I do realise that my taste in photographic subject matter is a little weird. A quick search will show you, though, that I'm by far not the only weirdo out there ambushing innocent invertebrates just to decorate a blog with.

Um... I did say anyway already, right?

Then I should probably stop typing.





Yep.

Pointless photo of the day:

Yeah. I don't really have anything today.

And I've been busy with work things.

Fancy that. Work things at work.

Anyway, today's pointless photo is of Jimsonweed. I should have done the flower before I showed you the seed pod, but there you go. Never said I was good at this whole chronology thing.

And... I'm done. Talk at you later, I guess.