Hey, now there's a not-very-good photo for ya'

We do what we can, you know and yes I heard the sigh of relief that at least it's not another hummingbird.

I was happy when glancing out the window last night, watching the little guy wander down the road (up is the other way) and very pleased that the dogs were asleep on the floor under the livingroom window. It wouldn't be the first small animal they killed inadvertently - because they chase and the smaller one dies of heart failure. Sadly, no, I'm not kidding.

Anyway, not the best photo but it was around 8:45 p.m. so photoshop and I did our best to make this show up at all.

Of course this photograph also shows I am not bitter. Nooooo, not bitter at all. The others in the family unit have seen a herd of deer just a hundred yards behind our property; have seen deer in woods all around the property in fact; coyotes hunting and feeding. Yes, they've seen all manner of creatures. Did anyone have a camera? Why do you ask such a silly question. Would you be looking at a hare in the dark? Well come to think of it, I don't know if you're in the dark as you look at the hare.

Annnnnd the sillies loom so off to the humid outdoors we go then.

They're not all pretty, you know

Yes, another hummingbird. This is to show that, as the subject line suggests, they're not all gorgeous - hey, just like people and let's not get into the oh we're all lovely in our own way type of musing, okay? Okay.

In actual fact, I'm fairly certain he is gorgeous but unless they have determined there is a reason to be, ie trying to find a mate to drag back to their cave..erm, nest...then they don't bother cocking their little heads and being all showy. Gosh this almost turned into a post with a point and we certainly don't want that.

I don't have any current photos of pumpkins, after all.

ixnay on the ummingbirds for a bit, yes--I heard that!

I am more than the sum of hummingbird parts

The subject line is a suggestion for a good country song, I guess. Go on. I dare you to write the first verse.

Geez, I tried to be original but that's an Oriole sitting on a hummingbird, now that I look .... well, actually it was all along; not just because I took a look.

There were two Orioles present but this guy was waiting on his mate to get out of the birdbath. You can't see it but the towel is just off to the side.

Yes, we apparently could put up a sign: "Welcome to the Flock Inn". As opposed to ... oh, never mind.

Canadian topic: no weather in sight except the very hot, humid and cloudless variety. I guess keeping the birdbath topped up is a necessity, you know, except for the lake just five minutes up the road. Where I saw fish jumping on Thursday afternoon. Uh-oh, this is turning random which makes for a very good time to hunt for the proper label for below and stop typing now.

One should never continue typing with a case of the sillies and sudden randomness looming. Actually, those are generally the most entertaining of posts but I have to go somewhere to do something. Isn't the outer world just plain irritating sometimes.

Quick, pointless, work-related post

Except the photo, that is.  It's just pointless without the work-related.

Ok, for your edification.  Things not to do just before doing two programs in a row:

1.  Break in a new belt.  Why?  New belts tend to be somewhat stiff, a bit annoying, and fairly distracting.

2.  Cut your finger on a dead owl.  Do I need to give you the why on that one?

3.  Put a neon-orange bandage on the aforementioned finger.  The why there is pretty much the same as the why for number one.  I kept wondering why my finger was trying to flag me down.  And if you're wondering the why on the neon bandages anyway, well... SOMEBODY knows.  That's all I'm going to say about that.

Or about anything else in this post, really.  Back to work for me, so that I can leave at some point and have some lunch.  That's right; I haven't even had lunch and yet I'm still posting for you people.  I'm just that good.

And now I'm done posting.

I'm just that succinct.

And still more apple blossoms

That's it, though.  For the apple blossoms, I mean.  At least from me.

It's pretty much it for my voice as well, since it seems to have disappeared somewhat after my morning program (ought to make tomorrow's two-fer interesting).

I think it'll probably be it for this post, too, since I have work to catch up on.

Should I start hinting about hummingbirds or something now?

I have apple blossoms too...

Just saying.

And, erm, just proving that I do in fact still exist.

Barely.

Here would follow the whinge, but since we've already had a perfectly nice post today (SEE BELOW, durnit) I don't really feel the need to add my moany two cents' worth.

You're welcome.

Bye now.

Spring.... the time for far too many nature shots

Yes, it's the highly-anticipated Canadian topic again and as you can see from some of the curled leaves we need rain. The thing worth noting (to me, anyhow) is that although those are apple blossoms, they were - as so many of us are - ahead of their time. "So what", you may comment and you're perfectly welcome to comment exactly that.

This coming weekend is the weekend where folks who make a day of it sign up with tour companies to visit the dozens of orchards in our area to see apple blossoms. Boy, I hope they like gazing at plain green leaves and dozens and dozens of dry, baked fields with only a hint of green things struggling to grow for the farmers. There's a saying that "there are no atheists in foxholes" and I'm guessing likewise out here there is a lot of praying going on for rain.

This might be the time to mention the fact it's currently 33 C with nary a cloud in the sky in any direction and seriously? Look at the date.

The dogs' walk this afternoon will definitely lead us to the lake at the top of the road.....you know, if I can get the dogs to take a little walk that is.

And now we have the bird with less expensive taste

Yep, another humingbird. Hey, it's a novelty for me so it's probably something you'll be putting up with off and on.

Or we could ignore the bird and do something truly Canadian; we could talk about the weather. Oh let"s.

Spring lasted about ten minutes this year. I was still wearing layers at night, when walking the pups, only a little more than a week ago but today made a point of driving the car with the better air-conditioning because I was picking up a few groceries. Note the date. There was a severe heat warning in effect at the Centre of the Universe...you know, where I used to live....this afternoon. Note the date. I feel lousy for the dogs though as they were used to going in the house from their walks, each promptly finding a vent with the a/c blasting up to cool their bellies. The a/c in this house consists of opening all doors and windows for the cross-ventilation.
My apologies to the person reading this who has no cross-ventilation. I am NOT smirking. Honest. Maybe a little.

Ah, well, we'll all get used to it. What else is there to do, really.

And here I sat for another minute visualizing the dogs, trying to cool down, stuck to the window-screens like the toys you see stuck on car windows... um, yeh. I should go now.

And maybe tomorrow a flower. Hey, now there's something for you to live for.

If small things in life make you happy

...then you'll be just over the moon about the bird. How nice of this particular one to perch on the better (read: more expensive and least tacky) of the three feeders I have for them out there. Sadly, said feeder is hanging in a Weeping Mulberry which I think will be hacked down in the Fall as it's on its last limbs. It's shedding its bark the same way people shed skin after a bad sunburn and there's not a whole lot of foliage on the one portion. I'm guessing that's not a good sign.

So, yes as the OLF mentioned above, it is the May two-four weekend. Most of my plants have been in the ground for two weeks or more and the two Red Maple trees were planted the last week of April - er, I think. That was a process my mind doesn't want to revisit, apparently. The trees are amazing. I love them truly, madly, deeply. There is just something about the majesty of Red Maples. Oh I do go on, don't I. And that, Your Honour, is why She should never have given me the blog password.

Anyway, red cedar mulch went on top of the whole lot to protect and help foster along all of the cash I planted.... er, plants I lovingly arranged. And do you know what happens when you also remember to turn the hose on? It all perks up and looks downright healthy - that is, when you point the hose spouting water at the greenery. I'm just sayin'....

This is a new abode, you'll remember, if you've been following along and the terrain here is sandy; sandy as in dump the (insert name of the best vacuum on the market here) 's cannister over the side deck as it picks up more sand than anything, and the birds use the dog hair for their nests anyhow. Oh yes, the point. There was a point. I've never gardened in a sand base so this is going to be darn near as interesting as what the heck the OLF is going to be nurturing on her balcony.

And before this turns into a post about something positive, I shall take my leaf.

How does your garden grow?

Ok, since I seem to to be in the mood to talk plants these past couple of days, the current blather is going to feature my balcony.  Which, incidentally, badly needs sweeping.  If you happen to be around and want to do it, please feel free to drop by.

My balcony, as I've mentioned before, has  a southern exposure.  That plus the fact that it has side walls that close it in somewhat make it quite the accidental greenhouse.  It's not hard to grow things with very little effort there, and that's a good thing because I'm all about the no-effort garden.

I already have my mini-garden in for the year, which puts me well ahead of the previous couple of years.  I'd been having a little bit of trouble with motivation, you see, so even though I can put stuff on the balcony at least a couple of weeks earlier than you'd put them in at ground level, the planter boxes were staying pretty bare until the last possible minute.  Why not this year?  Not sure, really.  Maybe I just got tired of being so late.

Even when I'm late, though, I still plant.  There's a couple of reasons for that, I suppose.  First of all, there's the family history of plants = good.  Both sides of my family are gardeners, and I guess I inherited some of that.  Come the last dregs of winter, I get almost jonesing to plant something.  I've been known in the past to even attempt to start plants early indoors.  In my VERY SMALL apartment, yes.  In the end it's not worth the hassle and I never (ok, rarely) do it anymore, but I can't deny the urge to plant something.  Anything.  It's a form of mental illness, maybe , but if so it's a harmless one.

The second reason for the balcony gardening need, as best I can figure, is that I have a balcony.  Yeah, I know that sounds pretty facile, but the first apartment I had when I was living in Edmonton didn't have a balcony.  One of my first thoughts when I moved into a place that did have a balcony was that it would be a good place to put plants.

And so I do.

The balcony garden varies from year to year.  Sometimes I'll get overambitious and scout out the garden centres for novelties or specific colour schemes or whatever weird plan sounds like a good one at that particular moment.  Those are the years when I end up spending way too much on bedding plants and find out that yet again I've bought juuust a few too many for the space I have.  Some years I go for a more utilitarian garden. A few different veggies that may actually survive the heat out there, a few flowers for colour, a few things for the birds (BUT NOT THE PIGEONS...).  This year?  Well, I've been having some neck issues so I decided just to seed instead of wrestling with bedding out.  Some different climbing things for the balcony railing, some dwarf sunflowers because I like sunflowers, and assorted flowers to fill in the blank spots.  And, of course, the volunteers.

Oh, the volunteers.

Last year I was more than a little slow in getting things cleaned up in the fall (but it did make the chickadees happy to have the dead plants to play with over the winter) and as a result some of last year's plants dropped seed.  Seed which has already sprouted.  Seed which will grow up to be...

Plants, I expect.

I can't really remember everything I planted last year, so this is going to be a guessing game.  I know that there's some morning glory, and... um... borage?  I'm pretty sure I had a couple of borage plants, and heaven knows that they're self-seeding.  Alllll over the place, if I remember right.  And what else?  No flipping idea.  This might be interesting.

At the moment I'm just letting everything grow until I can at least guess as to what I'm dealing with.  After all, some of it's bound to go well with the new stuff I've put in, and if it doesn't it can easily be pulled.  I don't mind a surprise garden so much.  It keeps things interesting.

And no doubt I'll keep you posted as to how interesting it gets.





Today's blather was brought to you by the Victoria Day long weekend which, although described as May Two-Four in many circles, was better known in my childhood as Help Mom Put The Garden In weekend.  I'm sure at least a couple of my two fans are up to their elbows in potting soil as well, since it wasn't just my family to be found frequenting the nurseries.

I probably won't be near a computer tomorrow, so I'll leave you all to putter away as best you see fit.  Have a good one.

Is that a green thumb...

...or are you just gangrenous?

Um, sorry for that mental image.  Should we try again?  Maybe is that a green thumb or have you come over all zombie?

Frankly, that doesn't seem much better.

----------

Before I start, I should warn you that the next few days may look like ALL APPLE BLOSSOMS ALL THE TIME!!!

I can't help it.  When the trees are in bloom you have to take advantage of it, right?  Even if you're doing it at stupid o'clock because you're up anyway and you may as well try out some shots in morning light...

Anyway.

I just thought you might like to know that I now have five amaryllises (amarylli?) in my apartment.  Five of them.  In my bachelor apartment.

That's too many amaryllises for a small apartment.

I didn't ever mean to have five amaryllises.  I've been given three over the years, and two of them split so I repotted them last week.  And now I have five.  Whomever help me if they decide to split again.

If any of my two fans are unsuccessful at amaryllising and are wondering how to keep three five amaryllises going for years (and not only going, but flowering.  Every year.  For years.  Yeeears), here's my secret:

Ignore them.

That's right; don't do anything that the special instructions tell you to do.

Let them flower, and then cram them onto the lowest shelf of your plant stand when they're done mostly so that they're out of the way.  Try to remember to water them now and then.  In the spring, throw them out on the balcony so that they're even more out of the way.  Oh, for that part it helps to have a full-south-facing balcony so that the sorry things can absolutely bake over the summer.  Drown them occasionally.  In about late August, notice that despite everything they're starting to send up flower stalks.  Bring them back inside, watch them flower, and then put them back onto the lowest shelf of your plant stand so that they're out of the way.  When they split, think about repotting them for a couple of years but keep forgetting to do anything about it.  When you finally do, notice that the bulbs have filled the pots to nearly bursting, wrestle them apart, and throw them in some new soil (whatever you have on hand).  Then jam them back onto the plant stand until it's warm enough to shove them outside.

Repeat.

Seriously.  That's how I take care of my amaryllises.

My other indoor plants get a slightly higher level of care, but only slightly.  I think they must like it, because they don't seem to have any trouble trying to take over the apartment.  It's not quite as bad as when I used to have a collection of ivys that seemed to spread everywhere (and the only reason that stopped was that a new addition I'd been given turned out to have spider mites.  Ah well, it gave me the excuse to get rid of the whole jungle), but I definitely have no trouble growing plants.  Part of it is certainly due to the aforementioned southern exposure (which the plants like even though it makes life hell for the human occupant for large parts of the year), but since several of my plants have moved with me more than once over the past couple of decades I have to assume that their continued existence has something to do with the way I treat them.  Maybe plants prefer benign neglect?  It wouldn't be the first time I'd heard that.

Or maybe it's just the family green thumb, if there is such a thing.

All I know is that I've had plants from the time I first moved out on my own.  Even when I was living in university rez I had a plant in my dorm room (it was a jade plant.  I taped a pair of paper sunglasses onto his pot so he'd look cooler...).  When I moved into my first apartment I was given a Christmas cactus (which I still have) and bought a lipstick plant (which I still have.  And I'm tired of linking now, so you'll have to look it up for yourself if you don't know what I mean).  And now?  Well, at the moment there's the cactus, the lipstick plant, a spider plant, an aloe that's getting way out of control, an African violet, FIVE amaryllises (did I mention?), an Aerogarden that's nearing the end of its cycle and needs to be restarted (suggestions on what I should do with it next, anyone?), and whatever decides to grow in my balcony pots.





Which... maybe I'll tell you about tomorrow.  This post kind of got away from me.  Ah well.  Maybe it makes up slightly for the lack of readable blather lately?  Or not.  Either way, it's pretty decent of my brain to let this many comprehensible (or at least semicomprehensible) words out when it's still not feeling all that great.  It's looking to be another blah day, boys and girls.  Here's hoping I manage to find the energy to at least draw some asparagus.

No, I'm not kidding.  And I'll explain when and if I actually  DO draw the asparagus.  Until then, I guess we're done for today.  Class dismissed.

The state.

State of notwellitude:  massive headache, tired and achy, but not quite feeling the immanent threat of upchuck that was most of yesterday.  Details?  No.  You're welcome.

State of June - August newsletter for work: about 30% complete.  Submissions, people.  Hard to have a newsletter if no one writes anything for it.

State of weather:  rainy and windy.  Not looking so good for this afternoon's program.  Ought to go really well with the headache.

State of pointless photo stash:  on the low side.  Today's featured pointlessness probably made that obvious, though.  I'll try to take more on the weekend.

State of happiness with the television season finales I've watched this week: middling.  One I've reconciled with a bit on rewatch, but the one I watched last night was so much a waste of an hour that I'm not sure I'll bother watching next season.  Which shows?  Doesn't really matter.  I spend more of my time watching Discovery and the Food Network than TV dramas anyway.

State of the month:  almost over.  How the heck did that even happen?

State of the work day:  on hold until I stop typing this nonsense.  Hint hint hint.  Later, folks.

Pointless photo of the day:

That's all for today.  I'm really not feeling well -- I mean really not feeling well -- and I think I'd better go home.

Here's hoping that this is a one-day thing.

Oh, I don't know

I'm afraid (well, not afraid, no.  Sorry would be more appropriate, I suppose) that I'm having a headachy day today, and it's sending me straight into my whiny five-year-old persona.

I'm very pleasant when that happens, I can assure you.

It also makes it kind of hard to blather without letting the five-year-old out for a scream or several, but I'll try to keep the noise down.

Any suggestions on what I should be blathering about, then?  Looking at the pointless photo I'm thinking that maybe the lack-of-topic should be dead cats, but despite appearances the cat was not, in fact, dead when I took the picture.  He was just in full-on cat ecstasy, rolling around in the grass (or lack-of-grass?) like a lunatic.  The shadow you see towards the top of the frame was caused by my father.  I think the cat was just showing off for him.






Um.  I don't really have anything more to say about that.  Kind of brought things to a full stop there, didn't I?

So...









Yeah.  I guess that just about says it all.  See you tomorrow, then.

Busy, busy

Also hot, vaguely annoyed, and pretty tired.  And I have a program in a little while.

Gee, did you miss me?

The story of the moment is that it's HOT out there, and when it's hot out there it's extra hot in my apartment.  That fact in itself leads to all of the above.

Well, everything except the program, I guess.

Anyway, I've got to run.  Ok, not literally run.  That'd be stupid, considering that my ankle's still swollen from the weekend.  Let's just say that I've got to stop typing.  That's more accurate.

Enjoy the pasqueflower or prairie crocus or purple thing or whatever you feel like calling it today.  Call it Fred if you like.  I'm pretty sure it wouldn't mind.

Later, folks.

All feast or famine, isn't it

I know, I know ... I go weeks with nary a peep and then you have to read (or not) what passes for my thoughts a couple of days running. I don't know why, either, if that helps.

The photo for today was a "what the heck?' moment. As you can see it's a hanging basket which is clearly recovering from a sudden night of frost which, yes, the Weather Network assured us was past - uh, but I digress. IN the basket is a dove in mourning. I guess that's why she felt like plunking her little feathery butt in the basket - to cheer herself.

I probably don't need to mention how freaked I was to not see the bird but hear the basket cooing? No, I bet you'd have figured that out. I mean even baskets in my world don't generally coo. Generally.

Thank goodness the walls can't talk, is the addendum to any thought that may appear above.

And in my land of no rhyme nor reason -

....you get a dog. Not just any dog, of course. Oh man, is she not just any dog. As illustrated, this one sleeps with her head elevated, thank you very much and has done since we brought her home on her 56th day of life. The only thing I can half-figure out is that the rest of her is so ... um... hefty that she needs the circulation to her brain?


Okay, the reality is she's one of US for pete's sake and is just quirky. Yep, that'd be it.


For the record though, she was a 12-pounder on the aforementioned day which made her over twice the weight of the other puppy.

I have taken several photos at the not-in-Toronto place that I now call home; many birds, pics from the surrounding orchards, animals and such - and, so, you get the dog. Makes perfect sense to me.

Yes I am that scary to everyone who tries to follow the bouncing neurons that are my brain.

Oh and look at that; because I did nothing to this photo except "shrink to fit", you also get the toe of my slipper. It's too bad you can't see the whole giraffe that's stitched on it and its mate. It's odd the things that I now find amusing or catch my eye or please me now that I live where I live. I think I'm more me here than anyplace else I've ever lived, including where I grew up which is a place I never once felt I belonged but man, is that a story for a blog not not about nothing.

Quick wave...

Busy day for me today, and I don't think I'll be near a computer tomorrow.  Things probably back to normal (whatever that is) by Monday.

Stab the not-Toronto office in the shins if you need reading material, I guess.

Well, bugger

My morning meeting went long.  I'm really, really needing to get something to eat soon.  And now, for some reason, my nerdstick refuses to read so I can't even upload you people a pointless photo.  I'll try one more time, but if it doesn't work this may just officially become the most pointless post ever.  Here goes...

Oh, for Whomever's sake.  I give up.

We'll try this again tomorrow, ok?




Trust me.  It's better this way.

Note to tea drinkers:

And no, today's pointless photo is not of a tea drinker.  Or tea, for that matter.

Anyway.

To all you tea drinkers out there, a news flash:  White tea is not delicate, or gentle, or any one of those things the advertisers would tell you.  It just.  doesn't.  taste.  like.  ANYTHING.

Spend your money on something else.

Anyway.

Oh, sorry.  I already said that.

It's been an interesting few days of being stuck on the bed staring at the ceiling in my world.  I believe I may have said something about my neck being out?  Yeah.  It got worse.  Today, though, I'm upright.  I have a helluva headache and I'm walking a bit like someone attached a broomstick to my spine, but I'm mobile.

Yay me.

I also need to get back to work since I'm behind on a couple of things, so this is all you're getting today.  I hope you enjoyed it just as much as I enjoyed bringing it to you...

Later, folks.

Chapter 1085: Wherein I probably complain about something

I'm not going to complain about today's pointless photo, though.  It's still early enough in the season that spider picture are rare, and I was surprised that the autofocus could even find this little girl (girl, yes.  It's female) hanging out on last year's roses.  She was pretty, too.  Kind of reddish, which isn't all that common for spiders around here.

Anyway.  I've got nothing today, which is a shame because I really tried to think of something.  I'm choosing to blame the continuing neck issue, although it probably doesn't factor in except for the part where I'd really rather not be upright just at the moment.  The drive back to my place is going to be interesting, I can tell you.  I've got enough movement that it won't be unsafe (believe me, I'm not stupid enough to drive when I can't turn my head in one direction), but the headache that will result from a combination of concentration and gravity is going to be a doozy.

Sucks to be me, sometimes.

It also sucks to be getting older, I suppose.  I mean, I've been living with a certain amount of pain ever since I wrecked my ankle in grade nine (and it's scary to think how long ago that was, now), but I'm really starting to hit the age where I just plain feel creaky a lot of the time.  If the ankle doesn't hurt (well, it always hurts a bit.  If it doesn't hurt more, let's say) then the knee is throbbing.  If the knee isn't throbbing, then the neck's out.  If the neck's not out, then the wrist is probably acting up....

Nobody really warns you that your forties (YES, I ACTUALLY JUST ADMITTED THAT I'M IN MY FORTIES.  Whatever.) are where you start paying for all your past stupidity, you know?  All those ridiculous little accidents that in the past earned me the internet nickname of Gimpy the Wonder Klutz are sending their ghosts back to remind me that yes, I am a stereotypical lefty and yes, my body's off warranty.

I can't tell you how thrilled that makes me.

And of course I realise that everyone goes through this kind of thing as they age.  I'm not unique by a long shot (ok, maybe the way I buggered up my knee was unique.  Stupid, but undeniably unique).  Which brings me to one of the great confusions in my world:  Why is it that so many people are working so hard to live for so long?  I don't get that.  Sure, I'd like to have a normal average lifespan, but I really, really don't want to live so long that everything wears out.  I don't understand where the pleasure would be in that.  Maybe I'll feel differently as I get older and the panic starts to set in (is that what happens?  Is is pure panic that makes people want to live to a hundred and fifty?), but as it stands now I'd vote for quality of life over quantity.

Gee, this is getting deep all of a sudden.  And it's almost becoming a post with a point.  Pumpkin time, unless I find something completely ridiculous to end it with.  Let's see...

Oh, I know.  British sketch comedy to the rescue, as usual.  I'd say sorry for the video quality, but then I wasn't exactly the one who uploaded it...





I'm done typing now, my neck tells me.  Catch you folks later.

What a mess

Sorry in advance if this comes out a bit crabby.  I'm not, really, but my neck's out (for those new to the program, it's a recurring thing.  One of the least pleasant things my mother left me was her bad neck) and I'm really not looking forward to the headache I'm going to have later in the day.  I'm also not looking forward to moving in general, but I don't have too much choice in that matter if I want to get anything done with my weekend.

Oh, and today's pointless photo?  Is it just me, or do young rhubarb leaves look juuust a little too much like green brains?

----------

If you'll indulge me somewhat (and you will, since it's my blog.  My house, my rules), we're going to talk art today.  Or, in my case, "art".  I'm not an artist, I'll never claim to be an artist, but I do like to doodle.  I also occasionally like to pollute the internet with my doodles (see other blog on the sidebar if you're into that kind of time-wasting).  It's odd to me, putting any of my stuff out there.  For years no one really knew that I drew at all.  I kept it to myself.  Even at work they didn't know... and the reason I mention work is that it was work that inadvertently made me slightly -- slightly -- more comfortable with making my doodles public.  You see, I wanted to do a display to go with a program on edible plants that I was putting together, and working as I do for a non-profit society I wouldn't have been able to afford republishing rights to any of the copyrighted material out there.  Add that to the fact that I'm not especially comfortable with pirating things for display use, and what was left?  Well, if I wanted illustrations for my text I'd have to turn illustrator.  The funny thing is that if I'd been doing it now instead of back in the dark ages, I simply would have taken some digital photos of plants and printed things out on the colour photocopier.  As it was then, though, I did some quick black and white sketches and very literally cut-and-pasted them onto my posters.

Yeah.  I meant literally there.  This really was back in the dark ages.

Anyway, I suppose that could be looked at as my debut in illustration.  Sorry... "illustration".  They're still just doodles as far as I'm concerned.  I've gone on to do more of the display thing over the years (including a colour version of the edible plants once we had the desktop publishing and scanning capabilities in-house), and gradually I've been finding myself doing more drawing just for my own pleasure as well.

This is where things get messed up, by the way.

When I'm doodling at work, obviously the thing I'm doodling has to look like the thing I'm doodling.  It's for identification purposes, after all.  The thing I'm doodling also has to be easily reproducible, and with very little jiggering around.  I don't have time for that kind of stuff, believe me.  Now, those requirements have led me, accidentally or not, to have a style (insofar as I even have one) that's fairly unfussy, reasonably clean, and realistic enough that it's not hard to guess what I'm aiming for.  Clear, I suppose is what I'm trying to say.  And that's fine for work.

I'm noticing that it's increasingly not fine for play, though.

I'd like to play more, and I haven't been.

My sketchbooks are clean.  Too clean.  Kind of boring.  Not bad to look at, but not terribly creative.  If it's meant to be play it really should have more play in it, I figure.  The problem is, I've been so in the habit of being clean that the thought of messing up a book with a little bit of play is hard to handle.  I won't say it's full-on anxiety attack or anything like that; it's more like this book's been going pretty well so far, and I don't want to make it NOT go well by mucking about.

But I think I need to.

The solution?  Baby steps.  I think I mentioned a few months back that I'd bought a small, pocket-sized moleskine sketchbook?  I designated it my mess book.  My play space.  I doodled (messily.  Yay me) all over the insides of the covers to start it off messy, in hopes that my olf self could get over the new-book-must-stay-perfect part.  I've been taking it with me to places where I know I might have time to waste, and I've been doodling (roughly.  Yay me).  I've even "wasted" pages just practicing shapes with a brush pen, which I'd never do in one of my "good" books.

And now (biiig breath)... I think I'm ready for the next phase.

I'm going mixed media.

That's right, I'm going to have a sketchbook that has more than just pen and ink drawings in it.  I'm going to wrinkle pages.  I'm going to use resist.  I'm going to collage. I'm going to buy some gesso, ferpityssake.

I'm going to make a mess, and I'm going to enjoy it.

Will it change anything?  Will I be able to use the word "art" on the blog without putting quotes around it?  Will I stop insisting that I'm just a doodler?






Probably not.  But if it does do anything for me, that'll be cool.  If it doesn't, that'll be cool.  It's not like any of this is being graded in the end.

Um, thus endeth the blather for the day.  Honestly?  I didn't quite intend for it to get this far anyway.  Ah well.  Type at you later.  If my neck's no worse...

Less busy, but...

... worn out by the week (and other things) and completely uninspired.

Let's just stick with the pointless photo again today, then.

Ok?

Ok.

Pointless photo and that's all I have time for of the day:

Yeah, sorry.  Tomorrow should be less busy.

Bloody weather

And for anyone new to the program who hasn't seen me link to the above about five million times already, here you go.

So.  Yesterday we had somewhat of a blizzard.  Yes, we did.  And as I sat in my apartment watching the snow moving horizontally past my window, I thought "well, there it is then."

Yep, that's about it.  Alberta weather.  What can you do?

Ordinarily I'd whinge, I suppose, but I guess I just don't have it in me today.

Which is sad, sort of, because I can imagine that you've already guessed what's coming next.  It has the words got and nothing in it, if you need a hint.  And it's going to be that kind of a week, because I'm sort of busy with start-of-season stuff.

Consider that fair warning.

Going now.

Pointless photo of the non-typing day:

Bit of a busy day, since it's start day for the seasonal staff.  I'm sort of playing hooky at the moment, to be honest.

I'm also having a non-typing day because my wrist decided it would like to be wearing the brace.  Yes, the wrist gets to decide that.  I, personally, don't like wrist braces and wouldn't ever wear one given the choice, but what can you do when your wrist is whining?

Not type, I guess.

Later, then.

Oh, Max

Today's pointless photo is not of Max the cat, in case anyone was looking for him.  There are plenty of photos of him about; just scroll down the sidebar to the Look At Something links, and you should be able to find him.

You know, if you're so inclined.

Anyway, I have a pet confession to make.  I've been rather cruel to Max the past few weekends I've been here at my father's place.  I've done something that I knew very well would upset him, and I've done it on purpose.  Repeatedly.

I've shut my bedroom door at night.

Now, my two fans will recall that Max is a very gregarious cat.  Gregarious to the point of needy, actually.  Max likes his people, Max likes to be with his people, and Max has a great deal of difficulty understanding why sometimes his people don't want to be with him.

Sorry, Max, but sleep has finally taken priority over servicing the cat.  At godawful in the morning, at any rate.

For those new to the program, Max has his regular habits when it comes to bedtime.  He goes to bed with my father, but early in the morning (AWFULLY early in the morning) he generally decides it's time to have his belly rubbed.  That's my job.  For whatever reason, he never asks the father figure to do it.  He'll burst into my room -- literally body-checking the door if it happens to be closed and not latched -- and stare me straight in the face until I have the decency to wake up enough to pet the cat.  There's a whole routine after the massage when his people finally get their butts out of bed, of course, but the early morning fondling is what we're dealing with here.

A few weeks ago I closed my door when I went to bed because my father was watching a movie and I tend to be a light sleeper at the best of times.  About ten minutes later I heard the sound of paws reaching under the door, trying to remind me that the door wasn't supposed to be closed, but I was tired enough that I ignored it for a change.

And I slept.  For a change.

And when godawful in the morning came around I wasn't woken up by a needy cat.  For a change.

And I decided I liked it.

Poor Max.

To be honest, I wouldn't feel badly about the whole thing except for his reaction when I do open the door.  This morning I woke up around six o'clock (which, yay me.  Six o'clock for me is like sleeping in until ten for most people) and figured I may as well get up and unlatch the door.  Well, the silly cat was in the room before I even had a chance to get back into the bed, and he was so excited that he didn't know what to do with himself.  Flopping down, getting up, pacing the bed, flopping down again... and all the while purring so loudly that I was a little afraid he might choke on it.

And this routine's been repeated every time I've closed my door at night.

Ah, Max.  What can I do, buddy?  It'd be different if I could get myself back to sleep after you wake me up, but now that I know what it's like to not have to deal with a cat's belly at Stupid O'Clock, it's going to be hard to go back to the old habits.



Oh, and I'll just say before I wrap this up that those of you who have never been owned by a cat are probably shaking your heads at this nonsense.  I don't care.  Max is... Max, and if he was any less Maxish he wouldn't be nearly so entertaining.

Have a good Sunday, all.

I dunno. Some random photo.

Gee, the post title sounds like I'm having a bit of a bad attitude day, doesn't it?  I'm not, really.  I'm just sort of tired.  And I'm at work, so it's just as well that I don't have anything in particular to blather about today.  The whole point of being at work on a Saturday is to work, after all.

So... um...

I really, honestly don't have anything.  As my two fans know, sometimes when that happens I just start typing until something or other comes up.  I don't seem to have that going on today, though, so maybe I'll just leave you with the lovely picture of Mountain Ash leaves.

Actually, I do kind of like today's pointless picture.

Hey, you take enough random pictures and eventually something will land in the like pile, right?  It's like the whole million monkeys with typewriters coming up with Shakespeare thing, I guess.

Going now.  I'll try to be interesting tomorrow.



And then the blog will turn into a  pumpkin.