Spider of the day:

Yesterday after lunch I went out prowling the father figure's yard looking for pointless photo opportunities, as I generally do on a Saturday afternoon. This year's making it a little tricky since everything's so dry, but I got a few shots that will likely end up as blog fodder sometime in the next few days.

I also found some spiders, so today's officially turned into Let's Feature a Spider Day.

I won't say by popular demand, since I'm probably the only one who likes these pictures. Too bad. My house, my rules.

So.

Our featured spider of the day is the Goldenrod Spider (Misumena vatia), which is a member of the Crab Spider (Thomisidae) family. The Crab Spider family got its name largely because of the crab-like movements of these species.

Crab spiders are ambush hunters and depend on camouflage to hide from their prey rather than using a web to trap it in. The Goldenrod Spider, also known as the Flower Spider, is a bit unusual because it's capable of changing its colour from white to yellow to better camouflage in whatever flower it's hiding in. The colour change apparently takes a day or two. I've never seen it in action myself.

If you're interested in finding Goldenrod Spiders (and really. Who isn't?), one of the best ways is to look for flowers that have bees or wasps in them that aren't moving. "Aren't moving" is a pretty good hint that an insect has met its match and is currently being eaten by a hidden spider like the one in the top photo (click on the photo to make it bigger. You'll see the spider's legs).

The middle photo shows a Goldenrod Spider that I found on a different flower (gee, no kidding?). She was just done with her lunch and was pushing the carcass out of the rose. Because of that you don't get to see her characteristic hunting posture, which is to spread her two front pairs of legs wide, ready to grab any unsuspecting insect that flies towards her hiding place.

Speaking of hiding, I was hoping to get some more pictures of this particular spider but she was more than a bit camera-shy and it turned into a pretty bizarre game of hide and seek as she kept moving around the stem to get away from the lens. The last photo was, unfortunately, the best one that I got. I'm sure you all wanted to see the underside of a Goldenrod Spider, right?

Oh, and if anyone's wondering why I keep saying "she"... well, both of these spiders are female. The males are much smaller and have different colouring. To the point where they really look like different species.

Want to see more of my Goldenrod Spider photos? I just knew you did! I'll link to some of the other ones I've posted over the years, then: here (a sketch) and here and here and here and here and here and... oh yeah, if you click on my profile on the sidebar I believe my current avatar is also a Goldenrod Spider.

What can I say? I like Goldenrod Spiders.

Bet you couldn't have guessed.





And thus endeth the lesson. See you later.

Toys

As usual, today's topic (such as it is) has nothing to do with today's pointless photo. The more shocking thing would be if the photo did have anything to do with anything, since it generally doesn't...

Anyway. Toys. And excuse me if this makes almost no sense. I'm operating on very little sleep here (my father had to be somewhere early this morning, and apparently both of us were keeping half an eye open last night to make sure he wasn't late. Gotta love alarm-anticipation).

I recently treated myself to a new set of drawing pens, and with the fifty percent off coupon I received after my purchase (clearance sale, I guess. Honestly, I really don't know what that coupon was about) I then turned around and bought myself my first-ever real (as opposed to crappy-schoolkid-version) set of watercolour paints. I certainly didn't need either of those things. I have a couple of decent drawing pens -- including a dip pen for when I feel like cursing a lot -- and I don't actually paint so I definitely had no need of the watercolours.

So why get them?

Well, everyone likes new toys, right?

Yep, art supplies (and other things like books) absolutely count as my toys nowadays. It's not that surprising, is it? I mean, my "art" is nothing more than play at the best of times. I don't take it seriously even though sometimes I wish I could, because I think I do have at least a little bit of ability. But... it's all just doodles in the end, to the point where I have trouble referring to my sketches as anything but doodles.

Having said that, though, I have learned a few things about art supplies since my childhood penchant for stationery (yes, seriously. Come on, people. Can you honestly say there was anything better then every fall's brand new school supplies? Stationery's fantastic. And shut up, world) migrated to the more, um... shall we say adult?... variety of toys.

For one thing, I found out that there are times when quality really does matter. It's hard to forget the feeling of sketching with a nice 2B graphite pencil after a lifetime of doodling with a generic HB school pencil. It changes everything, really. The line, the feel, the effects you can get... it makes a person wish she could have her junior high art classes to do over again. Things might have made more sense if I could have known then that a pencil isn't just a pencil.

I'm not even going to mention the light bulb effect that even softer leads had on me a number of years back. I'll just say it was very enlightening. In a very nerdy sort of way.

Same sort of thing goes for paper. I do my fair share of scribbling on cheap paper, yes, but if I'm in the mood to really be arty I admit to being a texture snob. I can't describe it (especially with no working brain), but I know what paper textures I want for certain things, and if I don't have them I get very bored in a hurry.

Just ask my incredibly-neglected field sketchbook. Poor stupid thing and its boring, boring paper.

So if art things are the toys in my life, what would I expect Santa to bring me? Oh, I don't know. It's sort of weird to think that way, so I'm not sure why I brought it up. Maybe... oh, maybe some nice sketch pads? Or some handmade paper, since I haven't worked with that kind of thing much and it might be interesting? Oh, wait. I know. Something... different. A medium I haven't played around with yet. Something that I might have hesitated to buy for myself because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make much with it (as in: what the hell am I going to do with those new watercolours? I guess we'll see...). Something that I could have fun with when I don't have the pressure of remembering how much money I sank into the damned thing...

Man, there've been a lot of ellipses in this post. A perfect picture of a sleepy mind. It's almost like brain mapping, don't you think? You can almost see the hamster wheel turning...

Ah. Saved by the dryer. Time to fold clothes now, so there's my excuse to leave this particular pointless thought truncated. If I've got you all in the mood for pointless doodles, though, my Illustration Friday attempt for this week is up on the other blog. This time with added modelling clay, even.

More toys, yes.

We all need our toys...

And what the heck was that, exactly?

Not the pointless photo, obviously. I know what the heck the pointless photo is.

The what the heck part is more about my morning. Which was weird. Even weirder than usual, yes.

I woke up stupidly early (yay me. Of course I did. There was no need to be up stupidly early, so naturally my brain decided that it would like to be up stupidly early), and while I was trying to convince myself to get some more sleep I ended up having a couple of very strange, somewhat disturbing half-awake dreams. You know the type, I'd imagine. You're not really fully asleep (or at least you don't feel yourself going to sleep) and all of a sudden you find yourself in the middle of a different place or situation for a while. Then you realise you couldn't possibly be in that place because you're actually in bed trying to convince yourself to get some more sleep... Yeah. Definitely a good way to start your day completely off-kilter.

It doesn't help that those weird waking dreams generally tend to be anxiety-style dreams. Something's wrong, or I-need-to-get-out-of-here-quick, or...

Oh, let's face it. It's all classic anxiety, plain and simple. Showing up for work in your altogether. That kind of thing.

It's probably the reason that I don't often remember dreams.

When I was younger (a lot younger) I used to be very good at completely freaking myself out in (or with) my dreams. I think I must have had night terrors as well, because I can remember waking up scared with no real reason or memory why, but it's the true nightmares that stuck. I had a gift for taking almost any innocent situation -- even a funny one -- from real life and turning it into a horror show at night. I would have been... oh, I guess a pre-teen when this was at its worst, and the cure my brain found for it was, I suppose, a little extreme.

I stopped remembering dreams.

Completely.

For quite a long time.

To the point where it kind of surprises me to remember a dream even today. The way I figure it, my brain just decided that if I was going to be so silly as to be constantly trying to terrify myself, then I may as well keep all of that stuff to myself.

Or maybe I'm just a neurotic little twit. That could be, too.

Anyway, weird start to the day, and I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. A paper airplane, maybe? Then at least I could have some fun with my screwed-up self.




And on that screwed-up thought, back to work I go.

Screwed-upedly, most likely.

One damned thing after another

I'm currently sitting at my office chair with my foot up on an empty coffee can because my knee doesn't especially want to bend today.

Yep. Yet another body part that's apparently off-warranty.

The sad thing is, it's not my bad knee. It's the other one (yes, I only have the two knees). It was sore during yesterday's round of planetariumming, but when I got home I found out that it was not only sore but badly swollen. Thus the issue with not wanting to bend.

I have no idea what I did to it. I must have twisted it or something, but you'd think that I'd remember twisting it badly enough to make it unbendable.

Stupid body anyway. One damned thing after another.

Ah well. It's the end of school programming season, so with the exception of having to set the planetarium up once next week I should have time to get the various aches under control for a while.

Hey, did I ever tell you (all two of my fans) why it is that I have the buggered-up knee in the first place? The usual bad knee, I mean. Not today's unbendy one. Let's blog-search and see, then... Well, rats. Or choose your favourite expletive if you'd rather. Of course I've told the knee story. I've probably told all of my stories at least twenty times over the years I've blogged.

I don't have that many stories, you see.

The short version of the knee story, for those who aren't in the mood to look for the longer one? I fell off a bus.

Yep.

It takes true talent to be that inept, you know.

And apparently I have that sort of talent in spades.





Or at least in my knee.

And furthermore...

Ow.

Pointless photo of the day:

Yes, I'm not bothering to think of a title yet again.

And yes, this probably isn't going to be much of a post. Yet again.

Sorry, but it's a tired-and-headachy kind of day. Just don't really feel like being charming. Or snotty. Or whatever it is I usually am around here.

It's a neat looking spider in today's photo, though. Don't you think? Been through the wars, obviously, but still neat looking.

Let's leave it at that, then. I'd promise better for tomorrow, but I really don't want to get either of my two fans' hopes up...

Pointless photo of the day:

A bit more time to blather today, but not really any inclination. I'm tired, and probably a little whiny. Best maybe to not bother sharing that with the world.

Today's pointless photo, then, features my boot. Oh, and a Wolf Spider. The boots used to belong to my mother. The spider didn't.

No boots for me today, though. I'm planetariumming for the next two days, and that means slip-ons because I have to be in stocking feet a lot of the time. You, um, needed to know that. I guess.

See? Just not hitting the blather flow here. Kinda figured that would happen. I should stop typing, then.




Oh, one thing. Is it weird that I'm seriously contemplating decorating a wall of the office with staff-produced finger painting? Like this and this, I mean. There's one up on the wall already, and there'd be more if I had any blue tack close at hand...

Yeah, it's probably weird.

Pointless photo of the day:

That's about it. Sorry. It's been busy.

Oh, one thing. In honour of the end of Kodachrome, we just have to have a little Paul Simon. Take it away, Paul.

Pointless photos

Well, I just finished entering a photo contest that my father had pointed out to me. I won't say which one, but I'll let you know if (HA!) I win something.

I only entered because they had an online entry form and it took a whole minute of my time, to be honest. If I'd had to put any more effort into things it wouldn't have happened. I'm not normally a photo-contest-entering type, because a) my photos are weird, and b) I consider most of them disposable.

I mean, let's face it. I'm not taking irreplaceable photos of precious family moments. I'm stalking around the yard trying to fool an autofocus camera into taking macros of creepy crawlies, for the most part. I'm looking for blog fodder, and after things get posted I usually delete them from my nerdstick.

Usually. I do keep a file of decent shots as well as one for possible use at work, but I'd say that easily 90% of the photos I take exist only on the blog's photo album now.

As you might be able to tell from my tone, this doesn't bother me.

So why spend so much time taking pictures? Well, it's partly for the hunt for neat things to take photos of. Things that you might not notice otherwise, and things that I think have beauty even if they aren't considered traditionally beautiful. Take the spider obsession, for example. Spiders are functionally beautiful. They're built exactly as they need to be for the lives they lead, and you can tell a lot about a spider's life by looking at its general shape.

I'm serious here. Comparative anatomy was one of my favourite subjects when I was taking my degree, and it still fascinates me to see how the differences and similarities in various animals' anatomical adaptations reflect the animals' lifestyles.

Um, sorry. I'll put the nerd zoologist voice away for a bit.

Another thing I look for when I'm taking pointless photos is pattern. I like pattern. A lot. I like texture and symmetry too, which explains the strange shots you occasionally see here of bark close-ups, odd diagonals, and let's say the middle of a daisy that I admit I've tweaked a bit to punch up the radial symmetry. It's cool though, isn't it? Like endless spirals of florets heading towards a common centre...

Ok, yeah, I'll put the OLF voice away too now. You have to admit, however, that a love of pattern shouldn't be too surprising coming from someone who admits to being ever so slightly OCD. Pattern is good. Predictable. And surprisingly exciting when it suddenly turns out to not be predictable.

Really.

And shut up, world.

All of this, by the way, should explain the sometimes very weird cropping you'll see in some of the photos. I'll take a photo for one reason, but then when I sit down at the computer to edit it (which, incidentally, doesn't usually include major edits. For the most part it's cropping and maybe a bit of colour balancing. I'm surprisingly close to wysiwyg in my shots, considering what a person can do with digital photography) decide I like something else over to the side and cut everything but that out.

Yes, it's weird. But so am I, so we fit together pretty well.

Anyway. The prizes in the aforementioned contest are cameras, so maybe if I do (HA!) win something I'll be able to take my own personal, pointless weirdness to a whole new level.

And then watch out...





By the way, none of this explains how I got so many mystery followers, none of whom I know, on the web albums. Maybe there's a lot more weirdness out there than I imagined? Scary thought, that.

ADDing

It's come to my notice, and not for the first time, that I have a bit of an ADD problem.

Now, I don't mean true Attention Deficit Disorder, or ADHD, or anything like that. I mean a facet of my personality that was probably there all along but has been exacerbated by my job and my hobbies.

I'm talking about Naturalist ADD, which I completely made up just now so please don't bother looking it up. It's the ability to become completely distracted by naturish things that most normal people really wouldn't even notice, let alone stop to be fascinated by.

Let's use the subject of today's pointless photo as an example. My two fans already know that I have a thing for spiders (weird in itself, yes), but this one isn't even a spider. It's an empty exoskeleton left behind after a spider moulted. I found it on my father's shed last week.

And proceeded to take (or try to take) hand-held macros of it with my little autofocus camera.

Macros, plural. Of an old spider skin.

Yeah... I know.

This sort of brainal weirdness is what I deal with everyday, and it seems to be getting weirder as I get older. Yesterday I took a walk with a couple of coworkers to check out reported damage to a picnic shelter we use for some of our programming, and I swear it was like taking a five-year-old on a hike. It's just so hard for me to stay focussed on the task at hand when there's so many flowers (finally) blooming, or the Tiger Swallowtails are lazily drifting through the trees, or the beavers have been out lumbering, or the Yellow Warblers are chasing each other around at breakneck speed, or (heaven forbid) there are Wolf Spiders out on the path...

Now, I've seen plenty of Wolf Spiders in my professional life. A Wolf Spider is not a novelty. I've even drawn my share of Wolf Spiders. But if I'm walking along and see something out of the corner of my eye that may just be a Wolf Spider, I have to stop whatever I'm doing and watch the spider for a while.

I'm so much fun to walk with.

Of course, yesterday was doubly (or triply) ADDish because I was walking with two other naturalists who have their own things they get distracted by... it probably would have appeared to a bystander as an attempt to herd squirrels or something. Well, maybe not quite that bad. Still, though. A serious hiker (as opposed to a casual stroller) would have found us intensely frustrating.

Too bad. You miss too much good stuff if you're in a hurry to get where you're going, I figure.

It's one reason why I'll probably never own an iPod (unless there's a really REALLY good sale). I don't have much use for plugging myself in when I'm on the trail, because if I do I might miss something. Yes, I'd be able to ignore the annoying stuff out there a lot easier, and I'd likely set a much better walking pace if I had music-to-pace-by, but I'd get a helluva lot less out of the walk itself.

Ok, so I'd probably get more exercise. But still. Exercise versus neat things to be distracted by? Come on. What kind of choice is that?

Not much of one, would be the answer I'm looking for there. I know not everyone would agree with me, but honestly? That comes out as a great big whatever for me in the end.

Guess I'll just continue to be an ADD-on wherever I go, then.






There are worse things.

Really.

Pointless photo of the day:

Well, I'm getting around better than I was yesterday, but I still have a headache, it's kind of muggy in here, and I'm not really in the mood to blather. Thus, photo and not much else.

There's some guest artwork on the other blog if you're desperate for something else, though.

We've had sort of an interesting... sorry, "interesting" day in the office, you see, and... well... I don't really know what to say about the guest artwork. I work in an odd place, I guess.

Later, all.

Quick post of the day:

Yeah, I'm still here. Put my neck out a couple of days ago, and I'm still not moving very well. Also, not particularly happy about that fact.

I'll try to be cheerier and more post-worthy tomorrow, ok?

Extra post of the day:

Just had to say this while it was on my mind... and it came to mind while I was browsing through some of the Illustration Friday entries for this week (um, see the other blog for the whole Illustration Friday thing. I'm not in the mood to be expansively artsy here just now).

I really really wish that people who put music on their blogs (and especially music with no obvious off button) could see how fast it makes people like me go away. Don't get me wrong. I like music, and I like that some people take the time to choose music that they feel is appropriate to their art, but I hate having music forced on me. Ask me to hit the play button myself and I might, but put your music on autoplay and I'm outta there before I even get a chance to look at your art submission.

Sad, that, but true. And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who feels that way.






That's all. You can go away now.

If you want to, that is.

Pointless photo of the day:

Anemones and some other stuff. From my father's garden. It'll be a while before my own planters have anything to show for themselves because I was lazy (and cheap) this year and just seeded them rather than putting in bedding plants.

Seeded with what, you ask?

If you didn't ask, don't you think that's a little rude? You could at least feign a tiny bit of interest... Let's try it again, shall we?

Seeded with what? Well, I'm glad you asked. My usual sunflowers for the chickadees, and a couple of different kinds of mixed flower seeds. Yep, I was the ultimate in lazy and didn't even bother to pick out specific types of flowers. In a weird little olf way I'm kind of glad I did it, though. Now that stuff is sprouting up I find myself wondering what it is that I'm growing this year. It's sort of like Christmas, really. I only have the vaguest idea of what might be in those little packages. Things might look like hell come August, but at the moment it's one big guessing game.

I'm ok with that.

The only thing I'm really missing is the scarlet runner beans for the hummingbirds. Last year they were very poor -- lots of vine but hardly any flowers -- and I figured that I may as well give them a rest for a bit. It might have been just last year's weather, but I've never had runner beans of any sort do so badly on my greenhouse of a balcony.

South-facing with protective side-walls. If it was glassed in it would probably hit 50C easily.

Anyway.

I've been using anyway rather a lot these past few days, haven't I? Oh well.

Anyway, I think I'll cut this short today so that I can do a couple more computerish things and then hit the road before the day gets stupidly hot. How exactly are we supposed to cope when we go from having frost warnings a few days ago to having nearly 30C highs this weekend? Gotta love Alberta weather.

Later, folks.

Bookish

Yes, as usual the pointless photo has nothing to do with the topic. Why would you want to look at a generic picture of a book when you can look at an oddly cropped tulip instead?

Maybe don't answer that.

This will probably be short because I'm currently in the process of assigning dates read to the books on my Shelfari shelf because I want to reorganise the way things are displayed on the widget on the sidebar (I'm also, bit by bit, starting to add a few reviews here and there. You can see them if you mouse over the books on the shelf. Oh, and if you haven't noticed, there are tons of books on the shelf. I haven't got around to adding all of the books in my apartment yet, but you'll find most of them listed there. On the sidebar. Go check it out. Erm... well, maybe after you've finished reading this). It would have been loads easier to add the dates at the same time I'd added the books, but that feature didn't exist at the time I joined Shelfari.

So now I'm stuck trying to remember when I might have read over two hundred books.

Fun.

Have you ever tried to remember when you read a certain book? Or two hundred different books? It ain't easy. Yeah, some of them are from recent memory and I have the dates written in them (a bit of an OLF thing, I admit... and it's one thing to have the dates written in them, but it doesn't help when I don't have the books right in front of me), but others have been travelling around with me for years. Some of them are from university or later college (I went back to school for a while a couple of years after university. Big mistake. Completely the wrong program for me. Got a couple of decent books out of the deal, though). Some of them joined the travelling deeol library even earlier than that. Some of them I can remember buying new, but there's a whole whack that came from used book stores so even the edition dates wouldn't give me a clue as to when I might have browsed through them.

And then there are the dictionaries.

I have a lot of dictionaries.

I've been assigning dates read to them because I want them to appear in the order they were bought, but I promise I haven't actually sat down and read the dictionaries.

Well, not most of them anyway.

I have read a couple.

Anyway, I'm going to be at this for a while... and what do you want to make a bet that when I'm done and I edit the shelf widget I'm not happy with it and end up going back to the previous listing even after all that work?

It would be just about my speed, really.





Maybe I should just try to have a few less books?








Oh yeah. Like that's going to happen.

Seeing stars

Weird. I just tried to get in to start a new post from the main Blogger page, but couldn't. Went back to the blog and signed in from there, and it was fine.

Weird, did I mention?

Anyway. Here I am. Tired. I've spent most of the week out at a school with the mobile planetarium -- sorry, mobile planetarium, for those who aren't familiar with the thing -- and spending that much time sprawled out in odd positions on a gym floor (um, in order to point at and talk about different constellations. I don't as a rule choose to sprawl out in odd positions on a gym floor just for fun) when you have a buggered-up ankle and a very unhappy knee tends to hurt.

And make you tired.

I should say at this point that today's photo has nothing to do with the planetarium. By choice.

Now where was I? Oh yeah, sore and tired.

I find it odd that I spend so much time talking about astronomy these days, especially considering the fact that until I was in my late twenties I knew next to nothing about constellations or any of that. I'd always assumed that I was too nearsighted and astigmatic to be able to pick out anything in the night sky, so I never bothered to try. In those days we didn't have our own planetarium at work but we used to rent one for a few weeks every couple of years. I didn't know my stars but I did know my mythology, so if I had to do a star show I'd spend a grand total of about fifteen minutes on the normal sky projection (Can everyone see the Big Dipper? Ok then. Let's move on) and then put on the mythology projection and spend the rest of my time telling the stories behind the constellations.

Most of which I couldn't have recognised if you paid me to.

Which, come to think of it, I was being paid to.

Ah well.

What changed is that my father built a telescope. A six-inch Newtonian reflector, which he painted teal. I don't remember why. I didn't even know what a Newtonian reflector was at the time, but all of a sudden the father figure had a teal one. He figured that since I'd been doing planetarium shows for years at work that I should be able to help him find some of the things he was interested in looking at with his telescope, but I... couldn't. And I was embarrassed. And for the first time, star maps in hand, I tried to figure out the sky.

And it wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be.

And -- much to my amazement -- my pathetic eyes were able to see the same shapes in the sky that were drawn on the star maps.

I know. It shouldn't have surprised me that the actual constellations would resemble the constellations on the maps, but to be honest it did.

I can be a bit simple at times, you know.

Well, once I realised that I was capable of learning the sky I actually (for a change) applied myself to doing it, and nowadays I'm not too bad. I'm no expert by a long shot, but I'm a helluva lot better than your average city dweller who hardly ever gets to see the stars.

Once of my favourite stories (Wait. It sounds wrong to say favourite about something that was really quite horrible. Hmmm. Substitute in something I found fascinating, then) about the earthquake in Southern California a few years back is that 911 operators were getting calls from people who were genuinely worried that there was something really wrong with the sky. The power had been knocked out, you see, and it was the first time some of those Los Angelinos had ever seen so many stars.

Aaanyway. I'm tired, I've been down in the basement long enough, and it'll be supper soon. If you're desperate for something to read and want a taste of the kind of storytelling I do in the planetarium, hit the European mythology label on the sidebar and you'll find some of my retold myths.

Oh, wait.

I took the label list off of the sidebar because it was getting too cluttered.

Hmmm.

Maybe if you try searching European mythology at the top of the page? That should work. Either that or I'll put the label list back on the sidebar at some point during the weekend.

Or not.

Whatever.

I'm tired, did I mention?

Sigh. Cats.

As I type this I'm still at my father's place. I normally wouldn't be on a Monday, but my weekend shifted for a couple of reasons. One is that I worked on Saturday, and the other is that my father's away for a few days so I told him I'd hang around until Monday to see that the cats got fed &c.

Apparently I'm not doing the &c right, because the cats are miffed at me.

Anyone who's had cats (or pets in general, really) knows that they get used to their regular routine, and at the moment the cats are doing their best to let me know that I've buggered up that routine. It's not so much that I'm here instead of the father figure (I catsit enough that they're used to it), but that I'm juuust not doing things the way they want me to. Yesterday, for example, I committed the cardinal sin of not taking them out in the evening.

I should say here that the cats aren't allowed out unless they're on leashes. I wish everyone would do that. I like cats, but I have a real problem with cat owners who just let their pets roam. You know what happens to free-range cats, folks? They have shorter lives, they destroy gardens, they kill songbirds, and you never know what little presents in the form of parasites that they might be bringing home to you. Fun, huh.

Anyway. When the warm weather comes the cats get fairly insistent about going outside. Max in particular. Max wouldn't make a great full-time outdoor cat (he's far too easily spooked) but within the confines of the leash-circle he's the King of the Yard. I did take Max out for a little while yesterday afternoon, but apparently my father's been taking them out in the evening as well lately. Or at least that's what I'm inferring from the fact that both cats parked themselves in the back entry and howled anytime it looked like I was going anywhere near the door. Too bad, cats. I decided I was in the mood to play with my pastels (which I haven't done for a long, long time... and boy, did it show) rather than sit in the cold so that the cats could have the pleasure of sniffing all the pee spots left by the neighbourhood wanderers.

Strike one for me.

Strike two came because I closed the door to my father's bedroom before I went to bed myself. The cats are used to sleeping in there, but I'd been warned that there'd been somewhat of an epidemic of Bad Cat happening so I thought I'd avoid the sound of things being knocked off of the dresser at godawful in the morning by preventing the cats from being there at all.

Result? Pissed-off cats.

I didn't even have anyone show up in my room, which is the usual default when my father's not around. Oh, wait. I lie. At some point in the morning Penny came in, stared at me, and curled up on the carpet in my room. I wasn't good enough to share a bed with, you see.

The thing is, if they're already pouty now they ought to be in a great state when the father figure gets back on Wednesday. I have to be back at work tomorrow, unfortunately, so while my uncle is going to look after the feeding &c (again with the &c? I guess you'll just have to imagine what the rest of the &c actually is) until Wednesday, for the most part the cats will be alllll alooone until then.

These cats are definitely not used to alllll alooone. Used to being massively spoiled, yes, but not to alllll alooone.

I figure that when my father gets home one of two things will happen. Either they'll completely ignore him to let him know that he's been a Bad Dad, or they'll stick so close to him out of insecurity that he won't be able to do anything -- anything at all -- for the next few days without at least one cat constantly asking him what he thinks he's up to.

Ought to be fun either way.

Glad I won't be here.

----------

My posting is likely going to be scant-to-non-existent for the rest of the week, since I'll be doing a lot of work off-site and that means no computer access. I'd ask the Toronto office to take over, but she's not so good at taking that hint lately. Perhaps someone needs to stab her in the shins? It'd be a break from stabbing Wheat in the shins, if nothing else...

Stupid algorithm games

In my sillier moments I sometimes like to head to commercial websites that I've previously ordered from that offer lists of recommendations, just because I get a kick out of what pops up from the weird things I tend to buy.

For example, Amazon has yet to figure out what the heck I like. It tries really hard, though. Really, really hard.

Hard enough that it's funny. To me, anyway.

See, I have interests in some fairly odd (and not necessarily complementary) areas, and it completely messes with Amazon's Hey! You're gonna LOVE this! algorithm. Order something on Ancient Rome? Well, hey. That must mean you want everything in our catalogue that mentions Rome. Or ancient. But what if you've also ordered silly British television shows on DVD, natural history stuff for work, a couple of classic novels, a couple of not-so-classic novels, an art book, several philosophy books, a poetry survey, a history of language, the last few seasons of a television drama, and a Moleskine sketchbook in the past little while (or past few years. I'm not THAT heavy a book buyer)? Then that must mean you want...

Um...

Gimme a sec here...





*sound of Hey! You're gonna LOVE this! algorithm's brain breaking*

The result is a desperate selection of what-the-h-e-double-hockey-sticks that is endlessly entertaining.

To me. But then maybe I'm easily entertained.

Click not interested on a few items, refresh the list, and up pops even MORE confusion. But I thought you said you liked... everyone else who ordered that liked... but... huh? Oh... I don't know. Maybe you'd like the full, unabridged boxed set of all twenty seasons of Gunsmoke?

Not interested.

*sound of Hey! You're gonna LOVE this! algorithm crying*

Things become even more fun when the thing starts thinking -- sorry, "thinking" -- that it knows what I want based on one recent purchase. A while ago I bought a cheap copy of Slaughterhouse-Five because I like Vonnegut but had somehow never gotten around to reading that one. Well. After that, the recommendations list went absolutely wild. You like Vonnegut? Then you're definitely going to want everything by him. And by Kesey and Heller and Burroughs and Thompson and Kerouac and...

Not interested.

*sound of Hey! You're gonna LOVE this! algorithm screaming in frustration*

To be fair, I do try to teach the thing (for the benefit of other shoppers, you understand). One day, come hell or high water, I'm going to get it to understand that the fact that Ive ordered a couple of Moleskine products does not mean that I want Every. Single. Product. In. The. Moleskine. Line-up...

One day. So far no luck. Those pesky Moleskines seem to keep popping up no matter what I do, though. Maybe it's the Hey! You're gonna LOVE this! algorithm's last bastion of hope or something.

Now, all of this was just using the behemoth that is Amazon by way of example. Other sites' recommendation lists tend not to offer quite that level of amusement, but that may just be because I haven't ordered enough to eff up the Hey! You're gonna LOVE this! algorithm in other places. Or maybe it's just that a smaller inventory means that you're less likely to get weird suggestions.

That could be.





Do you think that it's a problem that I've even given this sort of thing any thought? It might be.

Maybe I should look at finding another hobby...

Mirror, mirror (writing) on the wall...

Hidden talents. I have a few, I suppose. The vast majority are completely and totally useless, but there's one vaguely interesting one that might be worth a few words. I guess. But will you be able to read them?

Back in the days of passing notes in school, my friends and I somehow decided that it would be more fun (or maybe more challenging for teachers to decipher? I'm not sure which) to start writing things in mirror image. Or printing things, to be more accurate. None of my friends could seem to master cursive mirror writing, but I didn't find it too difficult. I used to be pretty good at it, too, but I'm a little out of practice now. Still, it doesn't take too much of a retry to get my mirror writing almost up to the same speed as my non-mirror writing.

But is it readable? Surprisingly, yes. Equally surprising, if you hold it up to a mirror to read it looks an awful lot like my usual left-handed scrawl.

As far as the whys of this... um... talent, I choose to blame the wiring of the left-handed brain. I have very little trouble reading things upside-down, backwards, or in mirror image, so it stands to reason that with enough effort I can write that way too. I've jokingly called it left-handed dyslexia in the past, but I think there's a tiny bit of truth to that label.

So... does this count as a hidden talent, or just a useless one?

Lack of post of the day:

Sorry, but it's been a long, busy day and since I've had a grand total of a granola bar and two cookies to eat since breakfast I really should go home and try to find something proper for supper before I collapse into a puddle of some description or other.

Oh, and in case anyone was missing the usual whinge, here's one for you: SOMEONE's ankle is aching like crazy at the moment because SOMEONE forgot to put on her brace even though SOMEONE knew that she'd be on her feet all freaking day. SOMEONE is an idiot, I bet you're thinking.

I'm thinking it too.

Later, folks.

It's random video link day

I like random video link days. Means I don't have to think of anything to blog about.

Today's randomness started with me having to show Wheat last night's Craig Ferguson opening. And just for fun, let's revisit this one. Craig Ferguson. Completely out of his mind and endlessly entertaining.

Anyway. That leads me to the sad fact that Koko Taylor has passed away. And... do you suppose a song with the title Wang Dang Doodle would get any sort of airplay nowadays?

Koko Taylor takes me to Big Mama Thornton. Why? Because it can, that's why.

And what's up next? Muddy Waters, of course.

Unfortunately, not a lot can follow Muddy Waters. This is close, but I think that we're going to have to shift gears a bit here.

Hmmm.

I'm thinking, I'm thinking...

Um, Muppets?

Well, that was a little more than shifting gears. Whiplash, maybe. Let's try this one, instead.

Hmmm. I may be backing myself into a corner here.

Big finish, then? Or at least finish, if not big? Let's see...

Here! This one! Nothing to do with anything, but I don't care!




Later, then!

You know what's not fun?

No, not ladybird porn. I'm assuming that ladybird porn is fun... for the ladybirds.

What's not fun is staff photos.

Staff photos when you haven't been told that it's staff photo day so you're wearing your Environment Week shirt (oddly enough, because it's Environment Week and we always wear Environment Week shirts during Environment Week) instead of your uniform shirt.

Staff photos when you're wearing the wrong shirt and you're not feeling well to begin with.

Staff photos in the wrong shirt when you're not feeling well and have just spent the morning outside at the pond doing a program.

Staff photos in the wrong shirt when you're not feeling well, have the windblown programming look, and are made to stand in the front row like in EVERY FREAKING PHOTO IN YOUR LIFE BECAUSE YOU HAVE THE MISFORTUNE TO BE 5'2".

Happy? No. Wasn't really into being immortalised with the headachy dead-behind-the-eyes scatterbrained-windblown-witch look this year. In the wrong shirt.

Bugger.

Or whatever.

Amazing how typing this is sending me beyond caring.

Anyway, another year's photos over... or so I wish. Apparently the plan this year is to also take a series of photos with us doing stuff. What stuff? I don't know, but I'd assume work stuff. Which in my case either consists of yelling at small (or sometimes not so small) children or sitting at my desk typing.

Ought to be terribly exciting pictures, don't you think?

Kind of makes a person want to go back and look at the ladybird porn, you know.

And I think I will.

Pointless photo of the... week? I dunno.

I have no idea what's going to happen for posts this week. I'm under the weather (yes, again. And yes, I'm tired of catching every freaking bug that comes along) and I just don't have the brain for this at the moment.

Today, then, I'd just like to acknowledge the fact that my brother is mumblemumble years old today, which makes me mumblemumblepluseighteenmonths old.

Which leads me to two questions.

Question #1: What in Whomever's name possesses someone to decide to have another baby while they're dealing with a nine-month-old? I mean, wanting to have kids is a foreign thing to me at the best of times since I know that I definitely don't, but getting pregnant again when your first kid has only been around for nine months? I so completely don't get.

Question #2: What does one call a brother when he's mumblemumble years old? He's not my baby brother because mumblemumble years old does not equal baby, he's not my little brother since he's about a foot taller than I am... I'd call him my younger brother, but since he's my ONLY brother he's not exactly the younger of a pair...

Younger sibling?

I guess.

Ah well, whatever he is, he's still having a birthday. Have a good one, then.

Me 'n my head are going home now.