I'm so confused

There's wet stuff falling from the sky.  How does that work, again?  It's been a while.

Unfortunately, the wet stuff is due to turn to white stuff.  Possibly lots of white stuff.

Fortunately, this will deal with the poplar pollen, and the constant whinge about headaches, for a while.

So how am I supposed to be feeling about this, then?  Good that I might be able to breathe, or ticked that winter doesn't ever seem to know when to go away?  At the moment I'm leaning toward the good side, but I'm thinking that's only because it hasn't started snowing yet.

It certainly is raining, though.  Weird.

No, seriously.  We've had so little rain OR snow in the past few months that I'm really not sure how to process it right now.

And besides... I've got nothing.

How many of you had already guessed that part?  Yeah, I know.  The blog's been a little bare this week.  Sorry about that, but when I've got nothing I've got nothing.

And I should really stop typing and enjoy the rain, anyway.





Ok then.  Let's go with that plan.  If I don't show up here tomorrow, you can assume that I drowned after going outside and looking up with my mouth open in wonder and amazement...

Or, you know, you can assume that I just didn't feel like blogging.  The first option would be much more entertaining, though.

Later, all.

Something something whatever

Dad's deer haven't eaten his caged tulips yet.  As of the weekend, at any rate.  I don't know what they look like just now...

Anyway.  It's going to be another postless day, for the most part, but that's only because my day started with a breakfast meeting at 7:30 am no I'm not kidding, so at this point it's almost over.

Weird, that.  Makes me think I should try to do something with my afternoon, but we all know that it'll just turn out to be staring at some silly British sketch comedy or something like that.

Ah well.  I may as well have my lack of ambition now, because next week will be busy.

And no doubt I'll whinge about it.

Something to look forward to, I guess.  Catch you later, folks.

Pointless portrait of evil of the day:

These are poplar catkins.  Catkins are flowers.  Flowers make pollen.  Poplar flowers make poplar pollen, you know.

The only thing good about these particular catkins is that they are no longer making pollen.

This is all you're getting today, folks.  I have a pretty nasty headache at the moment.

Gee, I wonder why...

What the brain gets up to when no one's looking

Um, no.  The brain doesn't get up to violets.  As usual the photo is pointless, and since the Early Blue Violets are the most colourful things in my father's yard at the moment I thought I'd share some with you.  I took a lot of pointless photos yesterday, actually, but since it's early days yet most of them are of leaf buds on trees.  I hope everyone likes leaf buds on trees, because you might be seeing a fair amount of them in the near future.

So.  Topic.  I had a weird, weird night last night.  Lots of dreams -- or at least lots of remembered dreams, which isn't all that normal for me.  Nothing too disturbing, thank goodness, and nothing that I think needs much in the way of examining.  Although I might wonder why I was having Christmas dinner with one of my former supervisors, really.  In real life?  It'd never, never happen.  Or at least not in such a civilised manner.

Remembering dreams at all is still a strange thing for me.  I've mentioned this before, but for a very long time I didn't remember any dreams.  Not even when I became briefly interested in dream analysis (very briefly.  Almost non-existently briefly) and tried some of the techniques suggested to help you retain your dreams.  My stubborn brain just refused to have anything to do with it.

And why?  I'm not sure, obviously, but I've speculated in the past that maybe it was because I had an awful time with dreams for a period when I was a kid.  I'd have terrible, terrible dreams, and they'd be set off by just about anything.  In one memorable case a silly and completely not memorable Disney movie turned into a slasher flick in my eight-year-old mind.  Seriously.  Blood and gore and the whole works.  With a cat.  Hey, I've never claimed to be normal.  Anyway, my theory is that after a while of terrifying myself in my sleep my brain decided that if I insisted on playing that stupid game then it damned well wasn't going to let me remember any of it.

And that's exactly what happened.  As far as I was concerned, I didn't have any dreams.  I mean, I know I did, but for all I knew about them they may as well have not existed.  And this went on for yeeears.  Long enough that it really feels odd to wake up from a dream now and remember anything about it.

Which brings up the question of why I can remember the occasional dream these days, I guess.  I'd like to think that it means that my brain has started trusting me again, but that's too schizophrenic a thought even for Yours Neurotically.

Maybe I've just found easier ways to terrorise myself.

Or maybe I've stopped?

I dunno.  And I'm not likely to.  I suppose all I can say to wrap this up is pass the sweet potato casserole, please.  And do try to keep that bloody cat out of the way...

Cats, for no apparent reason

As you can imagine (at least you would be able to imagine if you knew that I spend most Saturday mornings doing laundry), I haven't had time yet to take any new pointless photos outside.  Have a random cat instead.

Ok, so it's not exactly a random cat.  It's Penny, often referred to around here as Lumpy, and I was annoying her with the camera as she was cleaning up after breakfast this morning.  Penny is the smuggest cat I've ever known, and I've known a few.  She looks at us smugly as she sits on our laps (or my lap, I should say.  For whatever reason she sits on me but beside my father), she preens smugly after she eats, she talks to us smugly after she's visited the litter box... yeah, she's the queen of the house and she knows it.  Even if she's not technically a queen in the cat-breeding sense.

She's also developed quite the personality over the years, which frankly surprises me.  When she was younger she sort of wandered around the house like this blank floaty thing, and every once in a while she'd meow in such a tiny voice that we called her Meep.  Oh, in case anyone wondered, the name Penny originally came from her copper-coloured eyes.  They're more like weathered copper now, though.  Maybe that's why I so rarely call her by her actual name...

Um, anyway.  Somewhere along the line she figured out that the humans pay more attention to her if she's REALLY LOUD,  and she became the talker of the house.  Now she's loud, bossy (but sweetly bossy, if that's possible), and smug.  Sounds like quite the advertisement for a pet, don't you think?

And just in the interests of fair screen time (although... now that I think about it he shows up on the blog at least three times as much as Lumpy.  Ah well), here's Max pretending that he's majestic.  He's not, as my two fans know, but he can look the part when he wants to.

They say that there are cat people and dog people in the world.  They say that, but if we're going to be honest there are also bird people, snake people, monkey people (haven't you always wanted a monkey?), and a whole bunch more other people out there.  If we're just going with the cat/dog thing, however, I'll admit -- freely -- that I'm a cat person.  Kind of silly since I'm allergic to them, but there it is.  It has to do with the need factor, in the end.  I like dogs, but dogs are needy, needy things.  A cat gets what it wants and then finds something else to occupy itself with (usually sleeping.  Man, I wish it was possible to catch sleep from a cat). A dog always wants to be doing something with you.  You're the pack leader.  You make the plans.  I realise that it's the kind of attention a true dog person craves, but honestly?  If I owned a dog all by myself (as opposed to in a family situation, where the need thing gets spread out more), that dog would have to agree to find a regular job somewhere.  We'll do something after you come home from work, sweetie.

Um, yeah.  There's more than one reason that I live alone.  I've said more than once that the only way I'd survive in a long-term relationship is if my better half was in the navy or worked on an off-shore oil rig or something like that.  Downtime keeps the brain from imploding, boys and girls.

Well.  This seems to have accidentally turned into a post.  Yay me.  Time for lunch now, which will be scrambled eggs with ham and cheese.  It's a rule, you see, that one must have scrambled eggs with ham and cheese the day after having ham for supper.





Shut up.  It is too a rule.

Catch you later.

Oh, for a blog topic

Yeah, I'm a little blank here.  Sorry, since I've been so generally absent lately.

Oh, and I promise that this is the last snow picture for a while.  At least until our inevitable May snowstorm.

Anyway, the thing with blogging today is that I've been busy enough working at work (gee, who'd'a thunk?) that my mind hasn't been on the general pointlessness at all.  Good for work; not so good for being entertaining.  Or pretending to be entertaining.  Or whatever the heck this is.

I suppose I could share with you -- since I've been doing little but whinge about it -- that last night's few spits of rain allowed me to get the apartment cooled down all the way to 23 C, which in turn allowed me to actually have a normal night's sleep.  Well, as close to normal as I seem to get.  It's amazing how much easier the world is to take when your brain is functioning, you know.  Now if I could somehow stop my eyes from watering and clear my sinuses, I'd be a very happy person.

And then the blog would turn into a pumpkin.  Or maybe I would.  I'm not sure how that works, exactly.

Back to work for me, at any rate.  I'll try to have some new pointless photography in the works this weekend, and maybe I'll even try to be a little easier to get along with as well.





And then the WORLD will turn into a pumpkin.

Note to the stupid women in the washroom:

Yeah, no new pictures yet.  I know, I know...

Anyway.  This goes out to the stupid people who use the women's washroom here at work.  That could be a large group of women, really, since women in general seem to completely lose their brains once inside a public washroom, but here goes.

Hey.  Stupid women.  You know, those of you who keep throwing bits of toilet paper behind the main door on your way out.  Yes, I know that you're not meant to be touching door handles and things like that after you've washed your hands.  Yes, I know that the experts tell you to use a piece of paper towel to shut off the taps if there's nothing else around.  Here's the thing, though.  You don't have to do that in this bathroom because the taps go off automatically (after giving you a complete shower, yes, but that's a different problem altogether).  And as for the door?  IT'S A FRIGGING HANDICAPPED-ACCESSIBLE DOOR.  You don't want to touch the handle?  Use your damned elbow to hit the auto button.  Don't be throwing random bits of paper in the corner.  Would you do that at home?  Really?

Geez.





That's... um... been coming on for a while.  Sorry.

In other news, sleeping went a bit better last night (I think I got a whole four hours.  Amazing), but I had a nature walk out in the pollen this morning, so now I'm back in fun-with-allergies land.  As I've said before, it's just not fair that a person waits all winter for winter to be over, only to have spring make her miserable.

Ah well.  We may possibly be getting a bit of rain in the next day or two, so that'll help.  Please let it help.  I'm tired of having nothing else to say besides my brain hurts...

Going now.  This was almost a post, wasn't it?

Pointless apologies of the day:

No photo because I'm tired, sorry.

No post because I'm tired, sorry.

This is really past the point of being ridiculous.  I've had sooo little sleep in the past while that I'm amazed I'm still functioning.  If I am, that is.  Hot apartment, lots of wind that makes it hard to keep the window open at all without the allergies going into overdrive, the fun of being a walking OTC pharmacy...  You're looking at one unhappy camper.

Sigh.

Going home now, since I came in early for a meeting.  I'll try to be somewhat entertaining tomorrow.

Cry-y-y-ying

So, hi.

Miss me?

Yeah, me neither.

Sorry, I'm tired and in a bit of a mood.  It's tough when you have a choice between putting up with a hot apartment (we're hovering around 26C in there at the moment) and not being able to breathe if you open a window.  Either way, you're not sleeping much.  Like I need help with that at the best of times.

And how are the allergies going, then, Dee?  Well, see post title.  Anyone who walked in on me right now without thinking of the pollen count would wonder what tragic news I'd gotten recently.  It's definitely weepy-eye time, boys and girls.

Oh, and I don't have any new pictures, so this week's going to be pretty spare.  Today's really rather horrible shot is just proof that somewhere in the vicinity of my father's house (in the front yard, actually) there's a feeder that the blue jays became very fond of.

----------

Thanks to the not-Toronto office for covering for a few days (see?  I knew she'd come around if I pestered her enough).  What have I been up to in the meantime?  Not much.  Spending time in the apartment, taking some time off from people.  It has to happen every once in a while or my brain explodes, you see.  And with that time I did... um... I'm not sure, really.  I haven't even been doodling.  Didn't feel like it, for whatever reason you choose to make up for me.  This week's Illustration Friday word didn't thrill me, maybe.  I may still get around to it, but it won't break my heart if I don't.

Yep, I did mention that I'm in a mood.

Let's see... what else has been going on?

Um...

Well, I was at the zoo on Friday.  For a workshop.  Didn't do too much touring around, really, because you might have gathered that it's not terribly comfortable for me to be outside just now, but I did see some giraffes.  And some hippos.  And meerkats.  And peacocks.  And sparrows...

Why, yes.  The workshop was in Africa.  I guess I should have taken some photos there, but all I had with me was my phone camera and from the quality of the shots I get on that thing you would have been able to tell that I was either looking at giraffes or kangaroos.  Not exactly worth it.

And with that terribly exciting thought, time for me to get back to crying at my monitor.  I'll probably show up on the blog at least once or twice this week, if anyone wondered.  And just when the not-Toronto office was hitting her stride, too...

You haven't seen them in ages, so look ... dogs

It is a pointless blather blog you know so a person has to be careful in the typing process - not to find a subject, I mean.

Now that I look at the picture, I sure hope it's not as ickily sharp when you clicky-click to study their beautiful faces. Notice I said "when you" do; they're mine. I'm lazy and I get to see them all the damn time. Even in the breeze. Oh pay attention ... read the prior post. Anyway, I'm not about to clicky-click. Nope, of all the things I am now not going to do, clicky-click is definitely first.

I'll bet dee is so very glad I'm around to be doodling in her space on-line. And this isn't even her official doodling blog. That's how talented *I* am.

Not to beat a dead horse or anything but those dogs up there? They're on the side of workshop sheltered from the breeze. Yep, even the dogs.

As if you needed further proof that I got nothin'

Two days in a row, yet. Well I guess we could just sit here, staring at each other. It loses something like this, though, doesn't it. For example, you can't tell if I'm sticking my tongue out at you or if I'm making odd faces to make you laugh .... and stop that. This is my normal face.


I could let you in on a little well-used phrase around the new homestead. Please do keep in mind that on occasion I've been fairly good at understatement.


The Friday before we moved into the house, we visited the folks we purchased from. Actually they were kindly giving us a few sets of keys rather than have all those lawyers and real estate people mess up moving day which was to be the following Monday. Nothing worse than doing things "properly", after all.


Anyyyyyyway, it was about 120 degrees in the shade that day, it being the 27th of August, and Mrs' comment as we stepped out on to the pool deck was: "that's one of the great things I'll miss .... you'll find there's always a breeze". To be clear, her understatement of "breeze" equals mine of saying I get a bit "cranky" if I'm around the human race with any regularity.
I have a feeling I should have used "constancy" there so she who owns the place won't burst her aorta trying to not make a joke there.


Breeze. Different things to different people, I've come to learn. Breeze here means we could erect wind turbines and keep everyone down the road happy for the year with nary a hydro bill in sight. Breeze here means a newspaper doesn't get set down on the table outside, while you go to the kitchen to refill your morning hit of caffeine. I'm not sure I'd leave a small child untethered out there. Maybe a small child ON the newspaper with a bungee cord involved somehow....


Well you get the drift. And so do we, for - say it with me - there is always a breeze.

So, how does this go again?

"So if you want to...", she said.

"But I have absolutely nothing new in my life, nothing to talk about", I replied. "I LIVE IN THE COUNTRY NOW!!"

"Errrrr, you've noticed the NAME of the blog over the past few years, right?", she admonished.

So here we are then - at least you and me. She, being the owner of this space, is off somewhere doing something or the other ... so she said.

I fear she has plunked me down here, metaphorically speaking, just to prove to you that my brain is empty. Oh, look! A bird! It was a grey and misty/foggy day .... no, seriously. It was. But he's a pretty bird ..... squawwwwwk! A pretty bird!

Um, yeh. I did mention not much is happening on a daily basis now that I live in the COUNTRY?! Nope, not much at all. No traffic. No smog. No noise. No stress from dealing with idiots on the roads, in the shops, walking the pups. It is precisely the way my life was meant to be lived all along, I suspect.

I even know already that after the pups are over the rainbow bridge, there will be cats in my life again and I will finally fulfill my destiny of being known as "oh you know who I mean - that odd woman up the road with the house full of cats" .... as opposed to the phrase "cat house" being used in a sentence referring to moi. That would be just wrong. Or, you know, certainly by then it would just be wrong.

And yes, I DID try to see if I could make the labels for this post longer than the post itself. Thank you for noticing!

Gah

For the record?  Yes, I am tired of catching every damned bug that comes along.

I've spent the last couple of days with my insides getting to know my outside, more or less (and you're welcome for the visual).  Feeling a lot better today, although the whole allergy thing isn't making my life exactly a joy.  We've had some pretty serious wind gusts here in the past while, and it's stirred up pretty much everything that wasn't already stirred up.

Yay.

Unfortunately, I don't really have anything to blog about today because... well, you can imagine.  I won't be blogging tomorrow because I'll be at a workshop (I'll see if I can't get the not-Toronto office to stay away from the OTC meds and... erm, maybe she should be blogging that story?), and the weekend's looking a bit iffy because I'm probably not going to be in at my father's place.

Geez, the blog's interesting at the moment.

Ah well.  Back to work for me because I have a lot to catch up on.  See you when I see you.

Unposting

Just a heads-up that the blog's really going to be hurting for photos this week (I mean even more than usual).  It was far too windy these past couple of days to bother taking the camera out, so unless I do something about it during the week (which almost never happens) we'll be dealing with nerdstick leftovers.

Which... you probably wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't said anything about it.  Such is the quality of photography on this blog.  Good thing it's all pointless.

As for me, I'm kind of postless just at the moment.  A mood problem, for the most part.  There are a couple of things I could be talking about -- and may, in the next few days -- but I juuust don't want to.  So, I figured that I may as well blather about some of the other things I juuust don't seem to want to blather about here on the blog.

Made sense in my brain.

First, politics.  My two fans may have noticed that there's almost no mention of anything political on this blog.  There's a good reason for that.  I hate politics.  I find it boring.  Oh, I pay attention to the issues (I'd be a pretty irresponsible voter if I didn't, and I definitely vote), but as soon as the partisan yammering starts I tune out.  I'd sooner have elected officials doing something rather than yelling about all the things that their opponents aren't doing, really.  I thoroughly dislike election attack ads for the same reason.  Don't tell me how awful your competitor is; tell me what you'll do.  That's all I want to hear.  The rest I can make my own mind up about.

Second, religion.  As little as you ever hear about politics from me, you'll hear less about religion.  Different reason this time, though.  The way I see it, my beliefs are none of your business, and if you knew them the only thing it would do is colour the way you read my posts.  I mean, face it.  The minute I start advertising that I'm an *insert belief here*, anything I say appears to have an agenda even if it shouldn't.  I don't need that sort of baggage, especially for blather that's supposed to be largely pointless.  There's a reason that I use Whomever in place of something specific when I feel the need to invoke... well, whatever.  You're meant to fill in that blank with whatever works in your personal world.  What I'm filling it in with doesn't matter in the slightest.  After all, if I thought you needed to know much about me to read the blog I would have put my own picture in my profile and given you a detailed biography.  Oh, and I would have been posting under my actual full name as well, right?

Now, the third thing is in a completely different category, and it's a bit baffling to me.  I don't seem to post about nature and the environment much.  I should.  I'm a naturalist, for Whomever's sake (heh.  Whomever.  It's kind of become reflex by now).  I like nature.  I'm interested in nature.  I know lots of cool (and non-preachy, even) things about nature that would be handy to fill blog space with on days when I haven't got things to complain about.  And yet I rarely do that.

I'm honestly not sure why.

It could be because I also blog for work, and maybe in my brain the nature-y stuff should be kept for that.  It could be because the blog will turn into a pumpkin if it ever comes to a point.  It could just be that I don't think of it.  We all know that I tend to be more than a little scattered with my blog thoughts, after all...

Ah well.  Maybe I'll try to change that.  Or not.  At the moment, though, the increasing frequency of the use of the backspace key is telling me that I should probably stop typing for now.





Guess I will, then.

It's always best to listen to your fingers when they're the ones in charge, and that's how it works for the blather.

Redecorating

No, not with my father's garden cart.  I just thought you might like to see that old lawnmower chassis can be useful for something other than the landfill, that's all.  Oh, and the photo's a couple of weeks old now.  We're pretty much lacking in snow at the moment.  Note the at the moment part, though.  It's possible that after the coming week we'll be looking somewhat white again.

Anyway.

My two fans will, no doubt, notice the change in appearance around here.  I figured it was probably time, since I haven't fiddled for a while.  It might change again tomorrow if I decide I don't like it.  After all, it's pretty much the push of a button to change a template nowadays.

I'm of two minds about that, to be honest.

Back in the dark ages when I started my first blog, there were just a couple of very basic templates.  Any changes a person wanted to make had to be entirely coded by hand.  And heaven help you if you wanted to move any of the page elements around... although, come to think of it... there weren't really that many elements to move, actually.  These days it's easy to grab neat little widgets from everywhere, but just a few years ago your average blog was nothing more than a page with some words on it.

Things are prettier now, I have to admit.  Probably more interesting, too.  But at the same time, I miss some of the challenges.  After all, the reason I first started a blog was to practice (well, let's face it.  Learn.  Complete with "for morons"-style reference book) html without having the bother of maintaining a static website.  I couldn't have cared less about the blogging part of blogging.  In fact, my first blog posts alternated between stories I was saving for work (look in the first couple of months of the 2007 archive on the sidebar, if you're interested.  I transferred some of them over here when I started this place) and complaints that blogging was stupid and I shouldn't have a blog.

Blogging's probably still stupid in the long run, but I've gotten used to the almost-daily blather.  And the html coding?  I don't do very much of it anymore because I don't have to.  I tend to hand-code my font formatting a bit just out of reflex (and not wanting to take my hand away from the keyboard long enough to move my cursor to the italics button, I suppose), but with the advent of sophisticated templates the only things I bother changing are colours and fonts.

Yep, redecorating's easy, but in some ways it's less fun.  Don't get me wrong:  I'm all for user-friendly, but back when I'd spend entire afternoons trying to figure out what variables I'd buggered up THIS time I at least felt like I'd accomplished something when I finally got it right.  Now, if I find that something's not working because it's not meshing with my out-of-date template, I'll just choose a new template rather than trying to fix the problem.

Sad, really.

I almost had some skills there for a while.

Sort of useless skills in today's world of idiot-proof editors, but skills nonetheless.






Ah well.  If you absolutely dislike today's template feel free to leave a comment.  Or even if you like it, feel free to leave a comment.  Or feel free to stand in a corner being miffed, if that's more your thing.  I'll be over here trying to figure out where to put the throw pillows...

Pointless confusion of the day:

This'll be quick because I have work that needs doing, but I just thought I'd share that I'm having a moment of confusion about what I get up to at night.

When I'm actually sleeping, I mean.

Like, why did I wake with sore arm muscles this morning?  I haven't been doing anything in the past few days that should have led to sore arm muscles, but this morning I felt like I'd done a full night of bench pressing when I got out of bed.

Oh, and I should add that I've never (at least to the best of my knowledge) been a sleepwalker at all.  I know of one documented case of sleep talking, but that was only after I'd had the trauma of sharing a small boat with several dying, flopping-around fish.  And, um, disrupting my entire family in the tent trailer the night afterwards, apparently.  Sorry about that everyone, mumblemumble years after the fact.

To this day I don't do dead/dying fish well.  That's saying something for someone who has a zoology degree and hasn't been much bothered by plenty of much more disgusting things than dead fish.

Um, anyway.  Where was I?

Oh yeah.  Doing some heavy lifting at night, apparently.

Listen, I know I'm getting older.  I definitely know that things ache that never ached before.  But random sore muscles after a day of doing pretty much exactly what I did the day before?  That's just weird.




Yeah, yeah, I know.  Weirdness from me doesn't exactly qualify as a shocking thing.  And shut up, world.

I'm going back to work now, ok?

In my cups

No, not that way.  I'm at work, for Whomever's sake.

No, what I'm talking about is... oh, wait.  I should say first that today's pointless photo is not of a cup.  Or of someone in his or her cups.  Just so you know.

What I'm talking about is the fact that I'm test-driving a new insulated mug at work today.  This is a big deal.  No, seriously.  I had the same insulated mug at work for yeeears, so to have something different is a major change to the routine.

I'm not certain that I'm happy with it.

You see, my old insulated mug wasn't your run-of-the-mill stop-at-Tim's-on-the-way cup.  Nope.  For one thing, a coffeeless person like me wouldn't be stopping at Tim's anyway unless it was for a doughnut (or maybe a sandwich.  The sandwiches aren't too bad).  For another, I don't tend to travel with my hot beverage of choice anyway.  So, while it's nice to have an insulated mug to keep things warm for a bit while it's sitting on the desk unattended (say, if I'm in a program or something), I had no need of a leakproof bombproof whateverproof cup here in the office.

I had what apparently is called a desk mug.  It didn't look like the one I just linked to because it was older (and I can't remember if it was even a Thermos product), but the point is that it had a wide base and a non-leakproof lid.  Not designed to be hauled around in a car, but perfect to sit in front of my monitor.  And since it was the only one in the building, I always knew which cup was mine.

Until the handle broke off when I was washing it a week or so ago.

Sigh.

The cup was getting on and it certainly didn't owe me anything service-wise, but my cup.  I mean, seriously.  What was I supposed to do?

Yeah, yeah, I know.  Get another cup.  The problem is, though, that I went to buy another desk mug and I couldn't find one.  At the one store I went to.  So I bought a travel mug instead because I wasn't in the mood to go to a different store.  My fault, I guess (ok, I know), but now that I've got the cup I really should use it.

Today's test trial day.  It's going...

Well...

It's going.

It holds the same amount as my old desk mug, true.  Probably keeps things warm for about the same amount of time.  The chain on my tea infuser was long enough even though this this is twice as tall as my old cup, so that was a good thing.

And the part where I've had to go rinse off my hoodie (ah yes, the return of the hoodie) slightly to make sure it isn't rooibos-stained?  I suppose I can't blame that on the cup.  It was more a case of forgetting how to drink out of these damned travel mugs without causing myself mouth injury than anything else.  Still, I miss my mug.

This one isn't my mug.

Yet.

Will it be?  Oh, I imagine, especially since I'm too cheap to go lay out the money for a proper desk mug just at the moment, and I'm still not in the mood to go looking for one anyway.

Guess I'm stuck looking at this silly, skinny thing then.  Which, by the way, could use a refill at this point.

As good an excuse to end this particular whinge as any, don't you think?

Later, then.

Well, this is certainly turning into a week of non-posts

Sorry about that.  It wasn't planned.  It's just that between the lack of sleep (better last night, though.  Thanks for asking), the head full of poplar pollen, and the fact that I really, really should be getting to work... it sort of seems irresponsible to be thinking of something to blather about.

It's not like I had anything in mind, anyway.

It's kind of like taking pictures this time of year.  Frustrating, I mean.  Winter stuff has finally disappeared, but spring stuff's just barely getting started.  And what's left?  Brown, dead things.  There are only so many pictures of brown, dead things a person can take before her two fans start asking what the hell is up with all the brown, dead things? 

Unfortunately for me, the poplar trees are starting not to be brown, dead things.  They're actually more like white-ish greyish things with little fuzzy things dangling from them.  Little fuzzy things that evilly pump loads of pollen into the air, making MY HEAD HURT.

Early spring is so freaking annoying, you know?

Ah well.

Shall I test out one of the new toys and see if I can show you something that isn't currently making my head hurt and, last I checked, hadn't yet been eaten by deer?  Ok, let's see how this goes...


Hmm...

So far it doesn't.

One more try, without the toy part then?

Well, there you have it.  Actual, uneaten tulips.

Not sure it was worth the trying, to be honest.

Back to work for me, now.

Pointless photo and I'm too tired to bother with anything else of the day:

Yeah, you're welcome.  It wasn't a great night, and I'm cranky.

Oh, and my camera hates shiny yellow flowers, just so that you know.

Going now.

Ow. Brain cramp.

I really haven't the foggiest idea what this post might end up being.  But hey -- at least there's a flower in the yard.  More than one, even.  Thought I'd better take a few pictures before they get eaten.  The flowers, that is.  Not the pictures.

Anyway, about the post.  Further to yesterday's nonsense, I was sort of hoping to have an actual topic in mind for the blog today, and hoping not to lose it somewhere in the course of the morning.

So what's the problem?  Well, apparently I'm a little scattered today.  There are a few too many thoughts floating around in my nebulous cranial space, and they've got themselves a bit scrambled.

Example?  Boxes.  I like little boxes.  Not cardboard boxes, no; decorative ones.  I have a few pointless little boxes -- pointless because they're not really much good for anything -- and I find myself attracted to all sorts of others.  I try really hard not to buy little boxes (because of the not much good for anything factor, yes) but I still think little boxes are great.  But here's the thing.  Why on earth did I start thinking about little boxes for a blog topic?  And I'm not talking about this sort of little box here.  Really, I'm not.  It wasn't the context in my head at all.

So why, then?  Well, it might have something to do with collecting.  That's the best I can figure.  I used to be quite the collector.  Of what?  Lots of things.  It runs in the family.  My mother was a collector of brass, bells, ceramic butterflies; all kinds of dust catchers.  Me?  I was (note the was there.  It's important) into pin-on buttons (badges, if you prefer), stuffed animals, weird musical instruments, books...  The list goes on.  I've stopped now, though.  Got tired of all the stuff.  Didn't need more stuff. I realised that a few years ago when I found myself giving books away.  That would have been sacrilege back in the day, but at the time it was almost a relief to know that I'd have a bit less stuff in my life.

And I stop myself from buying little boxes even though little boxes can be pretty cool-looking sometimes.

But...

What in Whomever's name brought on the thought of blogging little boxes in the first place?

I think...

maybe...

sketchbooks.

I know, I know.  It doesn't make much sense.  But I mentioned carrying around a little (there's the little thing again) sketchbook and trying to remember to use it.  Isn't collecting things in a sketchbook just a less-cluttered way to satisfy the collecting impulse?

Sigh.  It might not have anything to do with anything, but the whole brain-fog thing got worse when I tried to think of a blatherific theme that wasn't little boxes.  Like... leg cramps.  I woke up with a doozy this morning, which doesn't happen often.  It certainly happened today, though, and was enough to totally freak out the cat who'd just decided that it was time for my services.  But who blogs about leg cramps?  I mean, really.  Leg cramps?  You can do better, Dee.  All right, then... lets think... I did my taxes last night.  We could talk taxes.  Everyone has something to say about taxes.  All those numbers in little boxes...

And that's when I got the brain cramp.  It didn't freak out the cat (mostly because I wasn't shouting ow ow ow ow ow as a result, I think), but it did make me give up on the hope that maybe the blog might make sense today.

There's always tomorrow, I suppose.

Except for the part where I won't be near a computer tomorrow so the likelihood of my blathering at all seems fairly slim.

Yep.

I think we need to end with a completely unrelated song now, ok?  Let's see what we can do...

Hey, I know it's not exactly an Easter song (most of them are far too sappy for me), but at least it has a duck in it.

Sort of.

Have a good one, all.

Man, do I hate losing posts

But first, a word about today's pointless photo:

I know that some of my two fans get a little squicked out when the insect and spider shots start appearing on the blog again each spring, but try to look at them as shapes rather than insects.  Think of what they add to the composition, such as it is. Maybe think of how neat it is that you can have a damned good guess at what these animals are up to in life just by looking at the forms of their body parts (comparative anatomy nerd = me.  Seriously.  I've loved it since university).  Or... just say why the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is she posting another picture of a bug? and then move on.

Either way works for me.

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Ok, time for today's topic.  Or it would be, if I could remember what today's topic was going to be.  I had something in mind, but unfortunately it got lost as I was doing my usual Saturday morning peruse of all things useless on the internet.  And, of course, my usual Saturday morning laundry.

I've got to learn to take notes or something, I suppose.  The very moment that something pops into mind for the daily blather, it should be written down.  I used to do that in my last poetry frenzy, and it worked pretty well... hmmm.  I should explain that for those new to the program, right?  The thing is that I like to write bad poetry.  Sometimes.  It's a very cyclical thing, really.  I'll spend weeks or sometimes months writing poem after poem after poem, and then I'm done.  Yep, just like that.  No point in trying to force it; it's just done.  It generally comes back -- occasionally years later -- but when I'm done I'm done.  Not in a where did my muse go sort of way, no.  More like my brain's moving on to something else for a while.  It's all good, since I'm not exactly trying to make my fortune with bad poetry.

For those of my two fans who are desperate for bad poetry, two words: Other Blog.  Don't say I didn't warn you about the bad part, though.

Anyway, the last time I had a poetry thing going on I took to carrying a very small notebook around with me so that I could jot ideas or snippets of lines as they flolloped into my head.  As I said, it worked pretty well.  I got out of the habit when my brain hit I'm done, but maybe I should start it again just for the blog.  It might make the blog more interesting.

I'm not sure if the blog will turn into a pumpkin if it becomes more interesting, though.  Maybe I should just aim for more weird?  That'd be safe.  I think.

Lately rather than carry around a notebook I've been packing a small Moleskine sketchbook and a pack of Pitt pens (yes, the Christmas gift card lives on) and trying to get into the habit of doodling/journalling when I have time to waste.  It's going... sporadically, I have to say, but I'm still game to get into the habit.

For any of my two fans who are of the art supply geek variety, two things.  First, I love my Moleskines, yes.  I know I could find sketchbooks that are just as good for less money and without the hype, but I like the Moleskine paper and the sturdiness of the binding so I'm not all that keen to try other things at the moment.  Second, after trying out the Pitt pens for a while now I have to say that for the way I doodle I still prefer the feel of my Pigma Microns.  The Pitt pens come a close second, though.

I'm not sure I want to waste sketchbook pages on random blog thoughts, but maybe it'll just have to happen to cut down on lost posts.  We'll see, I guess.

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One other thing, since this post seems to have accidentally become about art and words.  I've finally got around to a couple of quick updates on my Shelfari page, if anyone's interested in what books I've had my nose in recently.  You can see the bookshelf on the sidebar. Most recent books are at the top.  Hover over a book to see if I've bothered to write a review, or click the Shelfari icon to see my entire shelf.  Which, by the way, does not list all the books in my apartment, sadly.  Sadly because it's a pretty big list for being an incomplete one.  I still have a few shelves to enter, but I got distracted a while ago and forgot to complete it.  I should do that sometime.  The world may as well have the complete insanity.

Later that same day

Oh, you just know that this isn't going to go well, right?  It rarely does when I attempt to post after about 6 pm (maybe that's when I turn into a pumpkin?  I know that's what'll happen to the blog if it ever comes to a point).  At the moment you can add onto the evening posting problem the fact that I'm tired from not sleeping well (um... I guess that's what I'm usually tired from, isn't it?  That was kind of a water-is-wet moment) and a bit logy from the surprise turkey supper we had tonight.  It was a surprise to me, I should say, and not to my father.  Good thing, since he was the one cooking it.  The surprise was just that I didn't realise we were doing the turkey thing today rather than tomorrow or Sunday.  It was good, though.

I should say here that I did help (a bit) with supper.  I made the stuffing (from a box) and the dessert (from a box).  And I stirred the gravy.  From a package, yes.

Hey, it was still good.  And we've learned over the years that for just the two of us it's really not worth the fuss of making everything from scratch.  Heck, even the turkey's not actually a fuss.

Seriously.  That's the beauty of rotisserie turkey.

I know I've talked about turkey in the rotisserie before, but after having it that way I'd really have a problem going back to the traditional roast-style holiday bird.  The rotisserie keeps things from drying out, for one thing, and it means that you don't have to keep pampering the food.  It's also quicker, and anything that keeps a simple meal from being a full-day assault is okay by me.

Yep, I loves me some rotisserie.

And judging from the amount of bird left over, I'll be loving it for a number of days to come...

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Further to my extremely overly tired post about finding the new blog editor confusing, I just thought I'd let you know that it's my opinion that they still have a few bugs to work out.  I'm planning to use that as an excuse for any lack of sense in my posts for the next little while, just so that you know (or maybe I should blame it for any actual sense).  Still, it does have a couple of neat new toys.  Maybe I'll be doing a bit of playing around in the next few days.

Assuming that more sleep happens than has been, of course.  If it doesn't, just expect to see more whining.

Yeah, I know that it's hard to imagine more whining here.  Trust me, though.  It's possible.

Ok, so...

I was going to post. Really I was. I'm getting an error through Blogger, though, so at the moment I'm just trying to post from my iGoogle page (if this even works) to say that I WAS GOING TO POST.

Kind of a pointless use of a post, really. Appropriate for this blog, but still.

Ah well. I'll try an actual post with an actual pointless photo later tonight, I guess.

Attempting to publish... now.