Pointless photo of the day:

Yeah, I don't really have anything again today.

Well, I have a head full of snot, but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that.

Or maybe you do, but then I'd seriously wonder how weird you are.  I know that I personally wouldn't want to hear about a head full of snot.

Even if it's mine.

Um, going now.  You know, before this gets silly...

Pointless photo of the day:

I imagine that'll be it today.  Didn't sleep worth a  damn but still had to be up earlyish to spend the morning at a school talking about owls.  That is, I was the one talking about owls.  Not the school.

Honestly, at the moment I'm so tired that everything's sort of in slow motion -- make that sloooooow mooootion -- and Blogger's new editor is kind of confusing me.

I'm not saying that the editor itself is confusing.  It probably isn't.  I just don't have the internal computing power to process it at the moment, that's all.  Sad, really.  Also sad that I've switched to the rich text editor from the html one that I usually use, and it's still confusing me.

It'll be interesting to see just how easy it all is tomorrow, when I actually have a functioning brain.

At least I assume that I'll have a functioning brain tomorrow.  Not sure how much more of this non-brain thing I can take, to be honest.



Later, all.

Chapter 1053: Wherein I Hate My Shoes

No pointless photo today. Blogger says the photothingy isn't working right, so I'm not even going to bother trying.

If you knew how much my head is hurting right now, you'd wonder why I'm bothering to blather at all...

Anyway, let's talk spring. There are many things I like about spring (especially the fact that it's not winter), but there are oh so many things I don't like. Like spring allergies, for example (which would be the reason for the headache). How fair is it to wait all flipping season for winter to be over only to be reminded that you're allergic to both snow moulds and poplar pollen? The first month or so of spring is hell for me, and that's just not right as far as I can tell.

I also find spring to be a pain.

Physically.

And I'm not looking forward to it.

It took me a stupidly long time to figure out why I'm always so sore at the beginning of spring, but in the end it all comes down to shoes. You see, I'm pretty wedded to my boots all winter. When you have the balance that I do (i.e. not really much balance at all) you don't need to be risking your neck (or at least your arse) by going out without winter boots on. I tend to wear winter mocs unless it's really cold, and since they're more or less just insulated running shoes with good grip, it's not a big deal to spend my day in them.

I can pretty much get through a whole winter without wearing shoes. Strange but true.

The problem comes when it's time to put the winter mocs away and wear shoes like a normal person, though. Shoes, no matter how good they are, are never going to have the support of a boot. Ever. So what happens is that my screwed-up ankle spends all winter getting pampered in a boot, and then screams bloody murder when I expect it to do its job in a shoe.

I'll be spending a good couple of weeks hating my shoes, just so that you know.

And hating spring.





Juuust because I can.

Art project

First off, excuse me if this starts sounding bitchy or whiny. It's not meant to. Didn't have the greatest night, so I'm sort of half on another planet just now.

----------

Today's pointless photo is, of course, not an art project. It is, however, water running under the ice in the back alley last weekend. I thought the air bubbles looked neat at the time. They don't look like anything now, since the ice is pretty much gone.

My art project (sorry, let's make that "art" project. It's never more than just doodling, as my two fans know full well) is waiting for me upstairs, and hopefully I won't forget to take it home with me. Dad bought me some daffodils when he was down at the Legion the other day -- they're selling them for the Canadian Cancer Society's annual Daffodil Days fundraiser -- and if all goes well (and I remember to take them home...) they should keep me busy for a little while. I hope they will. It'd be nice if I could get back to that.

You see, the time was that I would regularly buy myself a cheap bouquet of something or other (generally flowers, yes) at the grocery store and then do at least one doodle of them every night until they were completely beyond sketching. I'm talking dead-petals-all-over-the-table beyond sketching. I found it interesting to follow how things change as the flowers opened and then withered. Besides, it was good practice. I'd try to use different media as much as I could to keep myself from getting stuck in the graphite rut (which has since become the pen and ink rut. Funny. I never would have imagined I'd develop any sort of liking for pen work), and by the end of the flowers I'd have a whole series. Um, if silly doodles can be called a series. Anyway, I currently have some tulips up on the wall of the apartment that have needed replacing for years (it's a full-south exposure. Anything on the walls bleaches out horribly from the sun) so it's time I finally did another bouquet.

And why haven't I? Well, life intervened at one point and I pretty much stopped doodling altogether. Then I got into some different habits. Now? I'm back to the drawing board, so to speak, but I've just been too lazy to get the flowers.

Yeah, I know how pathetic that is.

And it's not like flowers are the only things available to doodle, after all.

So why didn't I just draw something else to put on my walls, especially since anything I put on my walls will inevitably be temporary?

Um...

I guess I like flowers.

To be honest, I did try something else this past winter. I have a collection of miniature bottles in my room here at my father's place, and I took some home with me for a while thinking that I could at least play with still life stuff a bit.

I did two doodles and then I got bored.

The bottles didn't change.

Oh, you could move them into different groupings and things like that, but the bottles stayed the same. They always will, unless you go after them with a hammer or something.

I guess there's a part of my brain that needs organic to be interested, or something. Something needs to grab my admittedly short attention span, and man-made stuff just doesn't seem to do it.

So anyway, if I remember to take the daffodils home (have you figured out yet that I'm really trying hard to remind myself?) I might actually have something new for the decor in a few days. I'll take a pointless picture if I do. Actually, I've already taken one, come to think of it. Check the other blog for my daffodil-themed Illustration Friday entry, if you're into that sort of thing.

If you're not, that's ok. They are just doodles after all. Soon to be bleached out on a wall, if all goes according to "art" project plan.




Or maybe I'll just have a nap instead. Sounds like a really, really good idea right about now...

I dunno... something about a cat on a leash?

It might be dangerous territory to enter into a blather about a cat on a leash, though. The pointless photo would be unpointless, and we all know that the blog will turn into a pumpkin if it ever comes to a point.

Ah well, we'll give it a try anyway since I can't think of anything else to type about.

For those new to the program, the cat on a leash in the last few photos is Max. He's technically one of my father's cats, but since I'm here nearly every weekend (and I live in a no-pets apartment) I think he could be counted as my cat too. I know from the way he barges into my room at godawful in the morning most days that he considers me his person, so I think it's only fair to reciprocate.

Max is... well, Max is needy. Max needs his people around him. He likes to be outside -- change that to he DEMANDS to be outside as soon as the weather gets above 0C -- but only if someone's there with him. Good thing, too, because he's not allowed out otherwise. More on that in a second. Anyway, Max is the type of cat you need to show people who think that cats are antisocial. Max would pester them out of that belief in a hurry. Max needs to help with whatever you're doing, Max needs to have his regular cuddle routine adhered to... Max is a pet. No two ways about it.

Max's co-cat, Penny (aka Lumpy), is very much more your stereotypical CAT cat, by the way. Oh, she likes attention and is very talkative, but where Max is a busybody Penny kind of just floats through life. You can even see the difference in the way they walk. Penny's very cat-delicate, and Max walks like a bulldog. There's no other way I can describe it, really.

Anyway, back to the on a leash part. Max is a very good example of why cats shouldn't be allowed to roam free. I mean, there are lots of reasons why cats shouldn't roam free (for their own health, for one thing, or to prevent them from messing up the neighbours' gardens), but I'm going to touch on the more work-related one for me. If Max were allowed to roam around the garden, our local bird population would be significantly lowered. He loves to hunt. Almost anything. He's a little too fond of bees for my liking, for example, but he especially loves to hunt birds. He's quick, too. Quick enough that he's managed to catch a couple over the years even when he's on the leash. It's instinct for him, and it has nothing to do with how well he's fed (does anyone out there still believe that old fallacy that a well-fed cat won't hunt? I can assure you from personal experience that it's complete and utter bullcrap). If something moves, Max will want to catch it. Plain and simple. It wouldn't surprise me to find that he'd be capable of killing a bird a day just for the sheer sport of it. Thank goodness that the leash -- and our supervision -- keeps it from happening. For the most part.

Now... oh, wait. The topic of conversation has just come to visit. Give me a moment.

Ok, back to the message. Imagine Max as a free-range cat. Imagine a bird a day, at the very least. Now multiply that by all of the cats that are running around out there unsupervised. That's a helluva lot of birds, don't you think? Birds killed by an introduced predator that doesn't belong in our ecosystem. If it was pythons in the Everglades people would be freaked out, but since cats are cute and fluffy it's harder to convince people that they're a problem.

Look, I like cats. A lot. I grew up with cats and dogs (and, erm, gerbils. And a couple of monkeys...). I hate seeing either of them roaming loose. It's really bad for the health and life span of the pets, but it's even worse for the system that they end up mucking around with. And it's totally, frustratingly irresponsible of the pet owner to let it happen.

There are still some people out there who think it's somehow cruel to confine a cat, and I'm sorry but it's not. A cat that's spent its whole life indoors can be perfectly happy. It's true that a rescued cat that hasn't might get frustrated to be inside, but there are ways to get around that. Build an enclosed cat run, for example. Cat stays safe; environment stays safe. Train your cat to a leash (and yes, it's possible for a cat to be perfectly happy on a leash), but only if you plan to supervise it.

And don't ever make the mistake of thinking that sweet little Fluffy Whatsername would never ever hurt anything. A predator is a predator is a predator, even if that predator happens to like to have her belly rubbed.

Pointless deer scat photo of the day:

Oh yeah, there's a cat in there too. And a shadow of a photographer.

That's it for today. I have a screaming headache and I'm grumpy besides, so it's really not a good time for me to add more meaningless syllables to cyberspace.

We'll try this again tomorrow, ok? Maybe with some actual blather, even.

Ok, yeah, I'm here...

I know, I know. I didn't say anything about disappearing this week. The fact was that yesterday was a pretty busy day (so's tomorrow, but I'll try to blog at my father's place if I don't get a chance at work). The other days? The less said, the better.

Now, having explained my lack of internetting (or not, as the case may be), I have to say that... I really don't have anything today. I even have a total lack of hairdo since I was doing some maintenance on the planetarium a little while ago.

Hmmm... shall we talk planetarium? We haven't done that for a while. Well, I have -- I've actually been pretty busy talking planetarium lately -- but we haven't.

Just for any of my two fans that need a review, at work we have a mobile planetarium. It's a blow-up dome that takes up a good-sized room (or a corner of a gym) and has a projector so that I (or whoever else is currently doing planetarium duty) can show stars (or mythology, or, weirdly, a gigantic cell) to the people who have crawled inside along with me. Through, by the way, an entrance tunnel with door flaps that look a little bit too much like a giant silver butt.

I, erm, should say at this point that I've been working with Grade Six students a lot lately. But I have to say that I agree with them about the derriere resemblance.

Anyway.

Planetarium work, especially when I'm out at a school rather than at the Nature Centre, involves a lot of lifting. It also involves a lot of being on my knees (which currently hurt. See how long it took me to mention that? I'm the very picture of self-control today), a lot of dehydration, and occasionally a lot of swearing. When I'm setting up, I mean. I usually try to keep the cursing down to a minimum when I'm actually doing a program.

It's tiring stuff, in other words, and when you've done a few go-rounds in a row (it was three in an afternoon yesterday) you just find yourself done with talking for a while.

Or typing, which is why I have nothing for the blog.

I've typed rather a lot for having nothing today, though, don't you think? That must be a good enough excuse to stop.

Right...




now.

Tinkering itch

Today's photo was taken yesterday, and is just to prove that my father does indeed have tulips in his yard. The deers will, no doubt, eat them before they flower, but this is how they look now.

The rest of the week's pointless photos will probably feature a cat on a leash and various piles of deer poop. Consider yourself warned.

----------

I'm feeling the urge to tinker with the blog again. Or blogs, rather. It happens every once in a while. Actually, come to think of it, the blogs have looked this way for rather a long time in my tinkerage scale. Maybe it's time I played around with things a bit.

I've mentioned this before, but I really only started blogging in order to tinker. You see, I wanted to practice playing around with some basic html but I really didn't want to bother starting a website. This was back before auto layouts and wysiwyg editors in blog land, by the way. If you wanted something beyond bare bones, you had to do it yourself.

That was kind of fun, if frustrating. I didn't know what I was doing, so I sat there with one of those moron-style self help books ('scuse the term moron. I know it's not exactly PC, but I really don't want to advertise either of the book series that use stupidity-based terms) trying to figure out code. It was rewarding in a weird sort of way as well. It might have taken me an afternoon to successfully make a few tiny changes in the way things looked, but by the time I managed it I understood what was going on. Besides, I did it all by myself, mommy.

Now? Well, when Blogger switched to a more user-friendly template format I changed my hand-coded template to one of those. It was just easier. I still use the html editor when I post, but I think that's simply out of the need to know at least a little bit about what's going on behind the scenes. Control issues much? Maybe.

The ironic thing, of course, is that now that it's so easy to make changes to a blog template I've stopped tinkering. It'd take me five minutes to do what would have been a day's worth of try and try again, but I don't bother. As a result, my bogs don't have much personality anymore compared to some of the stuff you see out there. I mean, I like the minimalist style of this template (which is appropriately called Minima...), but would it hurt to throw a picture up behind the header or something like that? Change the colours just for a lark? Change the font now that everybody and his dog seems to be using Papyrus?

Maybe next weekend I'll have to plan a little tinkering time.

Not right now, though. I have other ways of wasting time today.





Hey, at least I'm honest about it.







The silly thing about all of this is that I initially started blogging only so that I could learn something about website design. Now? I seem to be blogging only to hear the sound of my own voice -- or typing, I guess -- and the work website that I recently started helping maintain doesn't require any knowledge of web design. You need basic knowledge of desktop publishing to use the editor, yes, but there's not a single style=" in sight. Figures, doesn't it?

Food for nostalgic thought

Hmmm. Was I really blaming my two fans yesterday for the fact that I can't seem to grocery shop like a normal person these days? Sorry about that.

Anyway, today's pointless photo has nothing to do with anything because I need to go out and take some more photos. One of these days I'll actually fit the photo to the post theme and you'll all die of shock, you know. Either that or the blog will turn into a pumpkin. It's been threatening to do that for years...

Ah well. Today's topic. Recently I'd been having a craving for the subs that a now-defunct local deli and bulk food place used to make when I was a teenager. The place was on my way to my after-school job, and if I was working a late shift I'd regularly stop in and pick one up for supper. I suppose that it was kind of weird considering that I worked at a grocery store that had not only food (fancy that. Food in a grocery store) but its own cafeteria. I can't remember now why I went for the subs instead, but I did. The subs themselves weren't anything special. As a matter of fact, my craving ended up taking me to the drastic step of trying to recreate them, and I was reasonably successful. I'd be ashamed to tell you what was in my version, especially in light of today's much more interesting sandwiches, but hey. The taste took me back, and that's what I wanted.

It's weird, the things in the food world you find yourself missing. Take mushroom burgers, for instance. There was a drive-through burger place (entirely drive-through. No seating at all. Strange set-up, now that I stop to think about it) in the town I grew up in that was a real going concern until the chain restaurants started moving in. Or maybe the owner retired. Or maybe it was a combination of the two; I can't remember at this point. Anyway, they served the same things you'd expect to find at pretty much any small town burger joint. My usual was their mushroom burger, and on occasion I'll still find myself wanting one. Here's the thing, though. I'm sure that if someone from the past showed up with one right this minute I'd be massively disappointed. Realistically, it was a plain burger patty with mushrooms and gravy on a pretty average bun. That's all it was. I know that.

But I still miss the silly things. Or, more likely, I miss the context.

Out of curiosity I took a break just now to google the name of the place. Apparently I'm not the only one on the net who misses it, mushroom burgers, and throwing fries at the always-present gulls.

I suppose we all have our childhood food-related things, though, don't we? At work we sometimes find ourselves talking about nostalgia candy, which can be interesting. Wheat and I definitely have 70s-based memories of Pop Rocks, Bottle Caps, Lik-M-Aid, and things like that. Which, incidentally, always takes me straight back to the bowling alley... ah, but stories of my childhood bowling prowess belong to another post, don't you think? Other members of staff, of course, have different associations depending on when they grew up. I have yet to meet anyone who can't give me some kind of answer when I ask them about the candy they miss from their childhood, however.

I guess in a way we're at least partly defined by the crap we ate?

Or whatever. I wasn't aiming for a conclusion here. The title says POINTLESS blather, after all.

All of this goes a long way to explaining why the candy basket on my desk has Chupa Chups (hey. According to that website they've been discontinued? I swear, I bought them not all that long ago. Maybe someone else is making them now?) and candy bracelets hanging around in it, I guess. Occasionally we like to be children in our office. It's especially enjoyable when we have a meeting and everyone's gesturing with their lollipops...






Ok, yeah, I'm five years old. There's nothing wrong with that. Now where are my wax lips?

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Edited after browsing that site a bit to add: Gold Mine Gum!. I'd totally forgotten about that stuff.

Pointless quick comment:

Yes, not even time to find a pointless photo. I have work that needs doing.

Anyway...

Just wanted to say that if I'm going to continue to have work days that are actually work days as opposed to work a-few-hours-in-the-middle-of-the days, SOMEBODY needs to remind me to buy something to make lunches with. There have been altogether too many sandwiches from the grocery store deli counter in my life for the past little while. They're decent sandwiches, mind, and a lot cheaper than eating fast food, but still. I'm perfectly capable of making a lunch even at Stupid in the Morning, you know.

If I have anything to make lunches with.

Why don't you people tell me these things when I'm shopping? Sheesh. Can't depend on my two fans for anything. At least anything lunch-making-related...

Ok, two reasons why I shouldn't be blathering today:

First one: the weather's crap today, and I was outside on the trails just long enough to have a very itchy, very miserable reaction to it. Stupid weather. Could have happened any other day this week and I wouldn't have been out on the trails at all. This, obviously, has put my mood straight into the toilet.

Second one: I got back in, made myself a cup of very good tea courtesy of the not-Toronto office, started clicking through some of my usual lunchtime reading list, and learned, somewhat belatedly, about Alex Chilton. Geez. Heart attack at fifty-nine? Geez, again. I hear the man was... difficult, would be putting it nicely, but the music was so good. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry. For a lot of people (myself included, for many years) he was one of those I know that song -- who's it by? types. Have a listen to the embedded videos in this post, though, and I'm sure you'll recognise things.

I know what my personal playlist will be for the rest of the afternoon.




I'm going to attempt to bring my inflammation down now. And enjoy the rest of my tea. I hope. It'd be a waste of the tea otherwise.

You're just trying to drive me NUTS, aren't you?

This'll be short. I was out of the office most of the morning, and now I really need to get to some post-lunch actual work.

Today's olf moment comes courtesy of a way too early start to the morning, which was caused by the need to set up the mobile planetarium at a school for an 8:30 am start. The problem? The school doors weren't open until 8 am, and by the time I got fully into set-up I probably had about twenty minutes total to get the thing up and running.

This... does NOT work for the OCD among you, people. I mean, yes. It is possible for me to set up in twenty minutes, as evidenced by the fact that I did it this morning. IT DOES NOT MAKE ME HAPPY. It's cutting it way too close if there are equipment issues (and we've had those in the past), and it gives absolutely no time to get into program mode.

Believe it or not, I do have to warm up my brain to do my job. Well, sometimes.

Anyway, it all made for a jittery start to the morning (and I won't even tell you how many times I checked the map to make sure I knew the way to the school) and right now I'm having a bit of a time getting focussed again.

And I'm eating pita chips. No real reason for the last one, except that I bought them as part of my grocery-store-deli-counter lunch.

And with that whiplash moment... back to work for Yours Obsessively.

Um... Honestly?

I think that I'm going to skip blathering today. Typing still isn't all that much fun (GEE I WONDER WHY??? Stupid woman. And yes, I'm the only one who's allowed to call me that) and I'm not really in the mood besides.

So, pointless photo it is, then.

Catch you later.

Burn, baby, burn...

Today's pointless photo is, of course, completely pointless. Today's post? Will likely make heavy use of the backspace key. And why is that, Dee?

Well, first I have to give you a little bit of information about stoves.

Did you know that your average electric stove's burner element doesn't cool down immediately just because you've turned the burner off? You did? Ok, but did you know that if you forget that the burner is still hot and then accidentally put your non-dominant hand on it while reaching for something with your dominant hand, you can discover how fast your reflexes are?

Mine apparently aren't fast enough.

It's ok, though. Of the two fingertips currently paying the price, only one ended up blistered. The other mostly just looks like I tried to iron my fingerprint. And the bandages are more for padding while I'm typing than anything else. Oh, and to remind myself that if I touch anything with those particular fingers in the next while, I might be checking my reflexes again.

This whole thing does give me an excuse to bring up one of my weirder phobias, though. I know I've mentioned it before, but for as long as I can remember I've been terrified of being burned.

Now, some of my two fans might be wondering just now how fear of being burned can be considered a weird phobia. Fear of injury, fear of pain; things like that actually make sense, survivally-speaking. True. The weird part isn't really the phobia, though. It's the fact that I've had the fear from practically day one and there was no reason to have it. I've never been seriously burned. In fact, my current blister marks the first time I've ever had more than a first-degree burn. So why would a small child who's never been burned be so scared that it might happen?

I have no answer for that.

I've said in the past, very much jokingly, that it's the one thing that might make me believe in reincarnation. Maybe some past life ended in a fire? Maybe I really am a witch?

Must... resist... urge... to... link... to... scene... from... Holy... Grail... yet... again...

Anyway. I'm being told by my right hand that I've typed enough for the moment. Talk, at you later, then.




I'll let you know if I decide to re-test my reflexes using the oven...

50 things that I like

Yeah, I generally spend a lot of time whinging on this blog.

Believe me, I notice.

It's hard not to notice, really.

It's just a fact of pointlessness, I guess.

Honestly, since I didn't give the blog a particular focus it's easy to just say what can I complain about today? and make that the default. In an effort to lighten the mood a bit today, though (in honour of Pi Day, I suppose? And yes, I do know that makes no sense whatsoever), I'm going to attempt to come up with fifty things that don't involve me and bitchery. It's going to be tough -- and completely off the top of my head -- but here goes:

Fifty Things That I Promise That I Can't Find Anything -- Or At Least Much -- To Be Annoyed About

1. Today's pointless photo. Yep, sometimes they're pretty pointless and this one's no exception, but there's something about this particular pointlessness that I like. For whatever reason.
2. Cheese.
3. Art supplies.
4. Craig Ferguson. In a purely he's-entertaining-as-hell fashion, of course.
5. Good chocolate. Ok, almost any chocolate.
   
6. The Muppet channel on YouTube.
7. Cats.
8. Spiders.
9. Pop rocks.
10. Jane Austen.
11. Squirrels.
12. Pizza.
13. Roper slip-ons.
14. British sketch comedy.
15. Sleep. Too bad it's such a scarce commodity.
16. Patterns. They speak to my inner OLF.
17. Singing.
18. Flowers. I was going to be more specific and list individual flowers, but that seemed like it would be cheating on my fifty.
19. Project Runway. Yeah, yeah, I know.
20. Cooking competition shows. See above for resigned comment.
21. Louis Armstrong.
22. Trivia.
23. Clementines. The tangerines, I mean.
24. The Blues.
25. Melons.
26. Fred Astaire.
27. The Discovery Channel.
28. DVD extras.
29. Sudoku.
30. Chickadees.
31. Baby Coots. They definitely qualify as so ugly they're cute.
32. Terra chips.
33. 60s rock. Well, classic rock in general. Stuff I can sing along with in the car.
34. Watching talented people in their element.
35. Kids. Yes, I do like kids. Doesn't mean I want any of my own, but it also doesn't mean I can't like other peoples' kids.
36. Mozart.
37. Chamber music.
38. Absurdity.
39. Learning.
40. Blue Jays.
41. Digital photography. There's something appealing about how disposable it is.
42. QI. Thank Whomever for the internet, because I'd never get to see it otherwise. Oh, and BBC? I'd really love to be able to see it in a non-pirated way hint hint hint.
43. Folk festivals. Haven't been in too many years, but they're sure a lot of fun.
44. Monet. Which I initially mistyped as Money. Which I suppose I like too...
45. Historic fashion.
46. Social history.
47. Ouzo.
48. Internet radio.
49. Having an art gallery at work. Even when the displays are iffy, it's still something to talk about.
    
50. Chicken.

Well, that'll be my fifty for this time. Fairly random, I think you'll agree. I know I've done this at least once before, so if you're really obsessive I suppose you could use the search bar at the top of the page to see how many repeats there are in the list. Unless, of course, it was on the other blog before I deleted the old posts. Then you're mostly out of luck.

I'm sure you're heartbroken...

Aaand we're back

I'm not sure with what, though. To be honest, I'm kind of grumpy and could have used a bit more sleep. That's the sort of thing that sends blog posts horribly, horribly wrong, so I'm not sure if I should bother to blather. Ah well, maybe I'll just type for a while and see what happens.

Today's pointless photo, by the way, should be looked at as a companion to this one from a couple of weeks ago. It's not especially interesting, but at least it proves that things are thawing.

Well, most things are thawing.

The greater part of my father's yard? Not so much.

I'll see if I'm in the mood to take pictures of it later, but in case I'm not I'll juts tell you that my father's yard has this weird way of holding on to winter for as long as possible. Everywhere else in Alberta could be completely snowless, but my father's place (and, to be fair, his neighbour's) will still be a metre deep in the stuff. It's a testament to how good an insulator snow really is, I guess. Provide a yard with a little bit of shade and you too can have snowball fights well into May.

Erm... hopefully not that long, but you see where I'm going. Just picture this strange little snow island in the middle of spring, and that's my father's yard.

Of course, the whole thing comes crashing down, snowloverly-speaking, the minute someone disturbs the integrity of the pack. Eventually the father figure will get impatient to get on with the gardening, and he'll start moving the snow around. Move the snow around, disturb the air pockets, and all of a sudden this miracle of ice at 14C becomes ACTUAL WATER.

I'd like to tell a bit of a fib here and say that the magic of it all used to mystify my as a kid, but the fact is that my father was a math/science teacher. Things like that never stayed a mystery for long. All it took was a question, and I got an explanation.

It might have been more poetic to stare in wonderment and amazement, I suppose, but I kind of like knowing how things really work better.

Probably why I'm in the business I'm in, come to it.







Hey, this pretty much turned into a post after all. Yay me. Proof once again that I am the QUEEN!!! of pointless blather.

See you tomorrow. Or whenever.

Pointless photo of the day:

Yes, just a picture again today. Those are actual, growing leaves on the ninebark, though, so I guess that's exciting. Or would be if I didn't know that they're just going to freeze right off. It's not spring yet, no matter what this bush thinks.

And yes, I was playing stupid photoeditor games with the picture. It's a lousy shot. It needed something.

Anyway, expect me to be sporadic in my posting for the next couple of days. I'll be off-site quite a bit, and I'm not sure if I'll have the time to blather.

Pointless photo of the day:

Sorry, got distracted by something and now I don't have time to blather the post I was intending to.

Today's photo, though, is new. And, although it's a pretty pathetic picture, it has a great deal of sentimental value to me. You see, I took this yesterday.

IT'S THE FIRST SPIDER OF 2010!!!

Hey, some people look for the first flowers as a sign of spring. For me, the first sign of any living, moving invertebrate gives me hope that spring might be somewhere in our future.

Grasping at straws? Probably. But it works for me.

See you tomorrow.

Sorry, what?

Oh yeah. This is the part where I'm supposed to blather.

Guess I'm having a not in the mood day. So far, at least. I even went on to Plinky to see if any of their recent prompts would get something going (something I haven't done in ages) and nothing there jogged anything worth typing about.

Sooo... I guess I'll either come back later today -- when I might even have some new pictures -- or try again tomorrow.

Too bad, really. I'd had a pretty good streak going, hadn't I?






Later, then.

Twits

Today's photo is old. I might have used it before. I... don't really care, to be honest. I'm really needing some spring to show itself so that I can get enthused -- or at least un-ennuied -- about taking some new shots. Pointless shots? Pretty much guaranteed, yes, but at least they'd be new.

----------

I'm sort of torn at the moment. I hate it when I find myself thinking about doing something that I've stated outright in the past is stupid and still think is kind of stupid. But, er, maybe not as stupid as I thought it was initially.

By way of illustration, let's go back to about 2002 or so. Picture me, an active internet forum member, chatting to a friend from one of the forums on messenger (back when I used to both chat and use messenger. Boy, that seems like a long time ago now). The subject of blogging came up, and I let it be known that I thought blogging on the whole was kind of a waste of time. I mean, what the heck is the point of a blog, really? You sit there typing to yourself and basically have no interaction with anyone who might possibly be reading your narcissistic meanderings.

We're talking 2002 here, remember. Many blogging platforms were pretty basic, and you had to manually add things like comment forms, counters, and the like from other providers. And sometimes that wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do, so a lot of people never bothered to try.

Back then, the internet to me was all about the idea of community. I went to the internet to discuss things (sometimes incredibly stupid things, true, but they were still discussions), not to be lectured to. To me, the difference between forums and blogs was like the difference between going for coffee with friends and being harangued by some mad homeless person while waiting for a bus. I just couldn't see why someone would prefer the second option over the first.

Then... a few things happened. I started to notice how circular the discussions in forums can get, I wanted to learn a bit of basic html, and I got bored one day.

Bored enough to go to a small blogging site (this was before Blogger became part of the Google amoeba), design a simple layout, and make my first blog post. It's here, in all its non-glory. The template is different now and I deleted all of the other posts on that blog when I decided to start using it for pointless artiness and move the pointless blather to its own place, but I kept that first post just because it was the first.

Speaking of first, at first I just used that blog (which at the time was only posts and a few links. I had no way to allow comments or pictures or much of anything, really) to store some astronomy stories that I used at work. Which I moved over here when I deleted the old stuff, by the way. Just search astronomy at the top of the page if you're interested. I didn't know why I had a blog, I had no idea what to do with it, and I figured I'd give up on the blog thing in a month or two.

That was 2003. Now? I keep two blogs more-or-less going, I blog for work, I follow a bunch of blogs, and the few forums that I even bother to keep up with anymore probably don't even know I exist because I've taken up lurking nearly full-time.

What changed? I dunno. Blogging platforms on the whole got more user-friendly and that caused a wider variety of people to start blogging, maybe. And as commenting became more widespread blogs became more than just shouting in the dark (although I personally still rarely comment). And forums started to seem so deja vu that I really couldn't be bothered to try to come up with new ideas to keep up my end of the conversation, as it were.

I'm not sure that I've really changed my mind about blogs overall, though. Most of them, especially mine, are still largely wastes of time. I suppose maybe I've decided that a bit of time-wasting can be harmlessly entertaining in the end, is all.

And what brought this history of Dee's blogging career on?

Twitter.

I don't especially like Twitter. I tweet for work (if you're desperate for the work blog address or the work Twitter homepage, e-mail me. I try to keep them separate from my personal waste-of-timeage) which at least has a purpose, but the thought of having a personal Twitter account seems pretty darned pointless. Even more pointless than this blog, since the very nature of Twitter makes things smaller and more immediate.

So why am I even thinking of Twitter? Well, I have to admit that there are a few feeds I'd like to be following. A couple of celebrities, some science-based stuff, and a friend or two, mostly. Plus, the whole new phone thing is taking my non-computerness out of the equation, since I'm looking at changing my phone plan slightly to fit the phone I'm sort of thinking of getting. Now, I do realise that I could just start a Twitter account to follow people and not bother tweeting at all myself, but if you've got the account you're probably going to find yourself using it, right?

Oh, bugger. I really don't want to become a twit.

Like I didn't want to become a blogger.





Somebody hit me with a brick now, before things get any worse.

Me, right now

No, I'm not dead grape leaves. I told you I was lacking in photos at the moment, remember? I just don't really have anything today.

Well, I do have a program that I'm going to have to get prepared for soon, so I'll try to keep this short. Appropriate, since it's about me.

Consider this a verbal snapshot, since I know you're incredibly curious about what I look like here at work. Or you're not. At this point I'm not really concerned either way.

So, me. Right now. Shoulder-length mouse-brown hair with designer grey highlights (yeah, whatever) that is currently up in a pony tail because a) I was too lazy to do anything else with it, and b) I'm doing a planetarium show tonight so there's no point in doing anything with it. Pink hair elastic. No reason.

Shirt? Work uniform. Usually it'd be a dark green t-shirt, but today I opted for my collared shirt because it's more breathable and the planetarium can sometimes be a bit warm when you get a bunch of bodies in there. Unfortunately, my collared shirt is a kind of tannish-clay that makes my skin look... wrong. Just wrong. There's no other word for it. It's just so not a good colour for me. In fact, the first time I had it on at work one of the girls looked at me and said WHAT are you wearing? like I'd suddenly come over all leper-y.

My nerdstick is on a lanyard underneath my shirt, as it generally is when I'm at work. It's out of the way there.

Trousers? Faded black denim. Black belt, mostly because I need someplace to clip my cell phone. My bundle of too-many work keys is on a 'biner that's attached to my belt loop because otherwise it'd probably commit pocket suicide.

Shoes? Red leather winter mocs that I'm going to miss SO MUCH when they finally give up the ghost.

Jewellery? None today. Couldn't be bothered. I am wearing the solar-powered watch that my father gave me a few years ago, though.

What else? Well, I'll do you the favour of not describing my underwear. I will tell you, though, that I'm wearing my Christmas penguin socks. Yes, I know it's not Christmas. Sometimes a girl just has to wear penguin socks, that's all.

I guess I forgot my glasses when I was at the head end, didn't I. Well, just assume that I'm wearing my glasses. I usually do, unless seeing is optional.

Well, that's about it. Not terribly impressive, but I can't say that it worries me. Oh, and if anyone was worried about me -- or at least my balance in an icy parking lot -- a couple of posts ago, I can tell you that while the parking lot is still icy in places it appears that my personal parking lake has finally drained, so when I go home tonight I'll attempt to park in my own space instead of borrowing one of the visitor spots. I know you were dying to know that.

And now... well, back to work for me. Wish me luck with the cub scouts.




I hope they like my Christmas penguins.

Choices, choices

I'm running out of newish photos. I guess I should do something about that. And I'm not sure if my father's fake birds are enjoying those real peanuts...

So. Not sure how this is going to go, blatherwise, because I'm really tired. Early programs mean I've been at work since gawdawful, and that's after my apartment building decided to get back at me for badmouthing it by attempting to blow up its own boiler room at about 1:30 in the morning. Or at least that's what it sounded like. Picture all your radiator and hot water pipes suddenly sounding like they're being operated by a runaway steam locomotive, and then just imagine me sitting there thinking of the Mythbusters, exploding hot water tanks, and the fact that the mechanical room is on the first floor directly below my apartment (well, that's not entirely accurate. My downstairs neighbour's apartment is directly below mine. But the mechanical room is directly below her apartment...).

Yeah. It was great.

Anyway, eventually the noises stopped (via a process that sounded awfully like someone taking a sledgehammer to the whole works) and I did manage to get back to sleep sometime before 3 am. Which, yay me. Too often I would have been done for the night after that kind of experience.

Ah well.

What was this post about, again?

Oh yeah. Choices. As in, my cell phone contract is apparently nearing renewal, because I've been sent a brochure of possible phones that they're more than happy to give me for a very low price. Out of the goodness of their hearts, yes... and a three-year contract. Funny how I'm suddenly being given all this choice, when last time I wasn't even offered a freaking phone for renewing. Could there be COMPETITION in the wind, boys and girls?

Um, non-Canadian readers won't see that I was trying to be clever with that last sentence. Canadian readers probably will, but I doubt that they'll care much.

Yep, this time I'm getting choice, and I'm not entirely sure what I'll do with it. Phones have changed a lot in the threeish years I've had my current one, and I'm not sure how fancy I want to get about things. I have a very good, very reliable phone right now. It's clear, it takes... well, middling pictures, and it gives me all the joys of predictive text for messaging. Or should I say that it gives my friends all the joys of predictive text. Especially when I'm typing in a hurry. As a phone, though, it's never given me a bit of trouble. That's important when it's my only phone. I haven't had a land line for years.

However.

I could be doing a lot more with my phone contract, and I know it. And I could be doing a lot more with my phone.

Do I want to?

I... dunno yet.

I've gotten as far as looking up some reviews of the phones that they're offering just to make sure that they aren't complete crap, and that's about it. As to anything else, I supposedly have until the end of the month. I say supposedly, because last renewal I was phoned by customer service long before I could be bothered to do anything about the renewal notice. I guess we'll see.

And if anyone out there has a new phone that they absolutely hate, please do leave me a comment so that I can be sure to completely steer clear of it. Thanks a bunch.

Trying to drown my car

Yes, the photo has nothing to do with the post title. Remember, I gave this blog its name for a reason.

Now then. About my car, which the managers of my apartment building are having their annual go at drowning. The company that manages the building I live in doesn't believe in parking lot clearing. They made one massive exception this past season because we'd had a flipping blizzard, but that was the only time we got any snow removal. All. Winter. Long.

Do you know what happens when you don't clear a parking lot all winter? Well, eventually the snow foundation that's built up starts to melt. When the snow starts melting, you get two separate and unpleasant things that you have to cope with for far too long. The first is that the daily thaw/refreeze turns everything into a solid ice block. I don't know about you, but those of us that live life on the balanced-challenged side really don't need the fun of a daily ice dance to and from the car. When things get bad I'll wear my cleats out to the car (and then immediately take them off because apparently my apartment's parking lot is the ONLY PLACE IN THIS CITY that only got cleared once all winter, and the sound of ice cleats on non-icy asphalt is decidedly fingernails-on-a-chalkboard), but other than that it truly is taking your life (or at least your ankles/knees/bottom) into your hands just get to your damned car.

Which is probably drowning.

That would be the second unpleasant thing.

You see, when you don't clear a parking lot you tend to get a nice, car-sized divot in the snow at each person's parking spot. Built-up snow along the sides from sweeping it off your car, and a depression in the middle from where the parked car has blocked the snow from hitting the ground. And what happens to those divots when the snow starts to melt? The sides become dams, and your car finds itself living in a lake.

Yesterday I had to wade through water that was up over my boots just to get into the car. Now, to be fair, I was wearing my winter mocs and they're only a little higher than normal shoes, but when you consider that much water and the ice layer underneath... yeah, I'm just happy that I didn't end up under the car.

Swimming.

What makes it worse is that my next-door neighbour doesn't have a car (and my newish neighbour on the other side apparently lacks one as well) so it will take a looong time for the lake in my spot to burst through the extra-wide dyke on the downhill side so it can drain into... well, one of the other parking spot lakes, I guess.

Yesterday night when I got home from work I decided not to fight with the lake and parked in one of the visitor spots. That's all well and good when there's a visitor spot open, but it wouldn't surprise me if I end up wading again when I head home this afternoon.

And this happens every single year, boys and girls.

Gotta love well-managed properties.




Maybe sometime I'll tell you why my bathroom light didn't work for nearly three months...

I really do need to move at some point, don't I?