Yeah, yeah, I forgot to blog.

And you know of course that when I start with I forgot to blog that the next thing is going to be I've got nothing. Sooo...

I've got nothing.

Well, I've got a mental headache from figuratively bashing my head against the desk because of the arrogance and stupidity of some so-called scientists, but you probably don't want to know about that. If you do, just check the work blog.

And if you don't know where the work blog is and desperately want to, just go to the work website.

And if you don't know where that is, write me a note and I'll send you the address.

Snail mail.

Just because I'm in the mood to be difficult.

Later, all. Happy Canada Day in advance, since I won't likely be around the office tomorrow and still haven't figured out how to post telepathically.

Dependent

No, not the pointless photo. It's pointless. As usual.

This morning, after a pointless (frustratingly so) hour of shopping for program props and not finding at all what I needed, I stopped in for some crickets (which I definitely didn't need, but the salamanders did) on my way back to the office. As I walked into the store the person at the checkout warned me that their debit and credit machine was down, so they'd only be able to accept cash. Later I overheard that not only were they offline, but their phone system was down as well.

That's like suddenly finding your pet store on a desert island in this day and age, really.

I don't think we all realise just how dependent we've all become on electronic gizmos today. I mean, even if you were a complete luddite about technology in your own home, all you'd have to do is go out the door to find yourself in a total web of electronic dependency. Everything from your car to your banking is tied up in the digital world whether you like it or not, and the only way you'd be able to get away from it is to go completely survivalist off-the-grid and hope never to see another human being again.

And even then you'd probably have to go for supplies eventually.

I'm not saying this is a good or bad thing, by the way. It just is. And I think we tend to forget how comparatively recent it all is. We've all come to expect things to work in a way that thirty -- maybe even twenty -- years ago would have been unthinkable.

As an example, I can tell you for sure that if the store I'd walked in today with no phone and no interac was the grocery store I worked in as a teenager, there would have been no warnings of "cash only" necessary. Just about everything was in cash, because your only other option was a cheque. If a business tried to run that way now we'd think the owner absolutely insane, but only a couple of decades ago no one thought a thing about it. And forget about losing a phone line... Once we had all of the power go out, and our manager told us to keep putting orders through by tallying by hand. That's right. Not only did we not have scanners that day (or any day), but we didn't have tills. We checked things out as best we could by keeping a running count on paper. I'm sure it made inventory a holy hell to figure out afterwards, but no one would have considered telling the customers to go home just because we didn't have our fancy newfangled 'lectric cash registers to help us out.

And no, this didn't happen seventy years ago. And you kids get off of my lawn.

As I was getting ready for work the channel I had the television on was promoting a look at how the internet had changed learning. Forget about the internet -- electronics in general has changed everything. We depend on our electric aids. For better or for worse? Oh, I don't know. All I know is that my mother used to say every now and then that if you stopped to think about all the changes that our ninety-year-old next-door neighbour had seen in her life, it was like she was living in a completely different world now than the one she started in. Now? Sometimes I feel like that's already happened to my forty-year-old self.

It just makes a person wonder how much faster change can become before we find out that we can't depend on it, I guess. Or maybe it never will.

But I bet I could still tally up a grocery order if I had to. Even with the GST.

Look! It's another non-post!

Sorry, all. I really was going to try, but last night was one of those wonderful stare-at-the-clock events and I'm tired enough to be almost weepy.

That's always a fun thing at work.

I'd tell you about my weekend, but there's not much to tell. Spent it by myself, mostly just trying to give this cold a chance to go away already. It decided that it would like to hang around for a little while longer, apparently, but I'm happy to report that I'm feeling a lot less like minideath (hey, even I'll admit that it was never bad enough to feel like actual death) and if I could just get some sleep I might even be functional.

That'd be weird.

Kind of fits around here, though, I guess.

Later, all.

Pointless pre-progam post

Oh wait. That was yesterday.

Oh waitier. It's today too.



Different day, same garbage. Except with a bit more voice. And a lot more p.o'd about something here that... You know what? Whatever. It's not like my being p.o'd ever really changes anything anyway. Especially after the fact, and this is most definitely after the fact.

So here we are, then. No time to make a proper post, but still typing for some stupid reason. And yes, I'm in pretty much in the mood I sound like I am.

In other words, different day, same garbage. Or words to that effect which you're perfectly welcome to fill in for yourself. I'm going to stop typing now, if that's ok with everyone.

Oh, one thing though. I probably won't be around a computer tomorrow, so at least we'll all be spared three days in a row of me in a snit.  And I'll try my best not to be in one by the next time I post.




Almost made myself laugh there...

Pointless pre-program post

Yeah, I have a program in just a little while so this post won't amount to anything besides a hey, I'm still here. My voice, however, isn't.

This is somewhat of a problem, considering that I need my voice to do my job.

Also, I'm informed by my father that my uncle has decided to dump one of his aquariums, and as a result his pond now has a dozen more fish.

This has absolutely nothing with my program or my voice, by the way.  I'm just saying that it's too many fish.

Ah well, let the fish wars commence, I guess.

Going now.

Probably whispering later.

It's SO humid that ....

....you get a picture from January of this year, reminding me why I should be happy it's so very humid at the moment. Not sure if you can see the snow whipping past the widest tree in the centre of the pic.

Where you see the spousal unit and dogs walking is now a lush cornfield ... which of course makes them - oh you know it's coming - out, standing in their field.

Maybe coffee will help the mental process.

Oh and can you spot both dogs? This is your "where's waldo" for today.

Pointless photo of the day:

That's all you're getting, I'm afraid. Basically, I feel like crud and I'm going home now.

To continue feeling like crud, unfortunately.

Wha?

Sorry, but between the sneezing and the lack of sleep I think I might have misplaced my brain. Lack of sleep, you say (let's leave the sneezing for now)? Yeah. Last night was... interesting for a few reasons. I'm a little floaty right now.

So what shall we talk about, then? Well, first I'd like to point out that today's pointless photo is of Oriental Poppies, and for a change I was actually at my father's place at the right time to take a few pictures of them before they got ratty and windblown. Usually I'm either too early or too late. These particular poppies (or their forebears, anyway) came from my maternal grandmother's place, and I've always had a fondness for them. When she sold the house we made sure to take some seed heads (which, considering that she sold the place to my uncle probably wasn't quite the rescue mission it sounds like), and now grandma's poppies live in amongst the yarrow under a tree in the back yard. Yeah, that's yarrow you see there rather than weirdly mutated poppy leaves.

Ok, that's the photo. What else can I dredge up? Well, I suppose I could tell you what I gave my dad for Father's Day. Or would you rather guess?  Some of my two fans probably already know, but for those of you who'd rather guess I'll give you some scroll-down space before the reveal.

Ready?

I gave him...







Indigestion.

Or rather, the restaurant did.

Some of you thought I was going to say fish, didn't you? And for those new to the program, this post explains why it wouldn't be weird to think that I got fish for Father's Day. I generally do, but at the moment the pond's population is a little on the high side and the fish are getting big. Rule of thumb, learned by experience (because really, I know bugger all about fish) is that if you want to introduce smaller fish to a pond that already has bigger fish, you should introduce several rather than one. Several small fish will school together until they're big enough to join the bigger fish. One small fish will try to school with the bigger fish.

This tends to not go well for the small fish.

Anyway, no fish this year so I took my father out for supper yesterday instead. He wanted Chinese food, and the meal was good but apparently the garlic ribs didn't sit too well afterwards.

Sorry about that, Dad.

We'll end today with a car speeding recklessly down the hill in front of my father's house. Just look at that thing go!

All right, really? I was trying to get a picture of something at the bird feeder on zoom, but by the time I set the timer to try to avoid shutter jiggle the bird had already gone. And using the zoom on my little camera usually makes anything that moves look like it's moving waaay too fast, so that's the why of the streaky car.

And why am I posting it? Well, it made me laugh yesterday when I uploaded it from the camera. It doesn't seem terribly funny now, but you're getting it anyway.

Um, yeah.



Happy Father's Day to all of you out there who qualify. And even to those of you who don't. Of course, that would make it more just Happy Day, but that's ok with me.

Things that will guarantee that I don't care what you have to say

This will likely be a pot-kettle post since I know I do a lot of things on this blog that probably guarantee a lack of caring about what I have to say (like repeatedly posting that I'm too busy to post, for example), but I was recently reminded that there's a bunch of stuff out on the good ol' web 2.0 that annoys the crap out of me. Unfortunately for my two fans, I'm in the mood to share my annoyances at the moment.

Some of this has no doubt been mentioned here before -- and probably repeatedly -- but since it's nearly summer I'm sure you're all getting used to reruns by now. Unless you're the type of people who are willing to invest time in summer replacement series, of course, in which case I guess the not-Toronto office should probably take over this place for the next few months.

Um, anyway.

Things that will definitely, absolutely cause me to stop reading your blog/website/post comment/board post:

• The use of the phrase jump the shark. I (mostly) lurk on a couple of television fan boards, and the moment I see those words I skip to the next post. It's such a beaten-to-death cliche, and all it says to me is that the person posting either wants to piss off people who genuinely like a show (and, um, trolls? Flaming the freaks is a pretty lame way to amuse yourselves), or is too lazy to form a complete thought about a topic. I don't like such-and-such. But why don't you like such-and-such? Because it jumps the shark. Oh. How very enlightening. Next, please.
• Automatic music. If I go to your site and there's music playing that I have no option of getting rid of, I leave. That's all.
• Fancy cursors or cute graphics. See above. Unless you're a tween, just don't do cute if you want to be read.
• White text on black backgrounds. Actually, this one makes me sad because I know a lot of intelligent people do the white-on-black thing as a stylistic choice. Yes, it can look very good, but unfortunately for some of us it makes reading the site painful to near-impossible. More than once I've had to abandon reading a thoughtful post on a black blog because my eyes just couldn't handle it. I made a more ranty post about the whole thing a couple of years ago, so if you want more details you can find them here.
• Txt speak or overuse of emoticons. Hey, I text. Sometimes when I text I abbreviate things, although I don't like going full-on jargon. I can see why people do, though... when they're texting. If you're sitting at a real keyboard with an easily accessible shift key and have more than 160 characters available to you, then you should be typing in actual English. It doesn't necessarily have to be textbook proper English (Whomever knows I use my share of sentence fragments and things like that around here), but if it's all omg lol wtf then it just doesn't deserve to be read.
• Baiting. Too many people out there get readers because they say things just to upset other people. Frankly? I find the whole thing boring. Why get all up in arms about what some twit on a blog says? There are so many better things to do.

There's more, naturally, because one of my favourite things to do is be annoyed about something or other (or at least that's how it seems some days), but that's enough for now.

Especially since I need to change laundry loads.

Hey, did this really become an actual post rather than just a non-post excuse? Well, then. Things are looking up. Ish. For today. Tomorrow is another day, Scarlet, and lately I seem to be having trouble with two in a row...

And we have a quandary

Well, not much of one, considering that I've already decided what to do.

See, I should blog. But I have one last bit of work to do today. If I do the work and leave the blogging for later when I'm at my father's place, I can leave earlier.

But.

Generally when I leave the blogging for later it doesn't happen because I find myself not in the mood when the time comes.

But if I blog now, I'll have to stay later here at work.

Unless I make it a reeeally short post and pretend that I'm going to make up for it tomorrow.

Um, yeah. Later, all.

Touchy-feely

You know how you get to that state in certain illnesses where you think you're feeling better until you actually try moving? Yeah. My head and I aren't the best of friends at the moment, so I'll try to keep this short.

In regards to the post title: Some people have real bubbles. You know what I mean? Get too close to their personal space and they get very uncomfortable? I'm one of those. It's not to the extreme, but close talkers really squick me out. Oh, and if you were planning to give me a hug anytime soon, please just don't. I didn't grow up in a huggy family, and I never quite know what to do around huggy people. I'm sure all that physical contact is very important for some of you, but except in certain special circumstances it does nothing for me. Yep, I am not a touchy-feely person.

But you know what?

Kids are.

My job is weird.

Yesterday, in the middle of my program, I felt a hand that wasn't mine go into the pocket of my hoodie (yes, I'm still wearing the uniform hoodie that I don't particularly like. Yay me for playing along). The hand, thankfully, belonged to one of the students and not one of the parent helpers. That would have been... awkward. I'm not sure what the hand was doing in my pocket -- it wasn't especially cold out or anything -- but it headed in there very matter-of-factly, stayed for a bit, and then went away.

I, of course, pretended it hadn't been there in the first place. I was in the middle of a program, for pity's sake.

Later on as I was trying to explain something to the group, I noticed that a little girl in front of me had decided to play with the cord on my hoodie's hood.

I ignored that too.

But kids are weird, and my job is weird, and I'd better get back to my weird job. Later, folks.

Pointless photo of the day:

Yeah, I said I would be around this week.  Turns out I was wrong.

And why?

Oh, you so don't want to know.  Or you don't want the visual, anyway.

Let's just say it was my turn for the office crud, apparently.  We're far too good at sharing around here, you know.

Anyway, I'm still not exactly functional (this afternoon's program ought to suuuck), but I'm more or less upright.  For now.

Yay spring and catching every damned disease that comes my way.

Later, all.

Oh, you just know that this will be chock full o' whinge

You probably guessed it after last week's disappearance, but I've been busy.  And I'm tired.  I took a couple of days to be away from people after the busyness, but I'm still tired.

And I have a headache.

And my nerdstick has decided not to talk to my computer today (second time in a few weeks.  Think it's trying to tell me something?  I mean, besides maybe I should look into getting a new nerdstick), so unless it changes its mind before I stop typing you're not even going to get a pointless photo to fill the space with.

Have I mentioned that I'm tired?  I'm sooo tired.  Like, isn't-this-month-over-yet tired.  Last week kind of did it for me, I have to admit.

I was out at a school with the mobile planetarium, in case anyone wondered.  Did programs for an entire school in the space of two and a half days.  Spent two and a half days trying to get comfortable on a gym floor.  That part, in case you wondered, never actually works.  Anyway, the kids were good, the programs seemed to go well, but I. Am. Tired.

I think I mentioned.

Anyway, one more try at some visual pointlessness and then I'm out of here.  This week's posting should be a bit more regular again (as regular as things ever get here, at least), but at this point I'm thinking that making no promises is probably the best option.  Because I just know you hang on my every word...



Ok, no pointless photography today, then.  Catch you later, everyone.

Pointless photo of the day:

And as you've probably guessed, this is all you're getting.

Busy, yes.

Oh, and don't be stabbing the not-Toronto office in the shins unreasonably.  Technical difficulties there, she tells me.

See you... I dunno.  Friday, maybe.  No promises though.

Well, you know what I'm going to say

If I'm posting this late, it's because it's been a busy day.

And it has.

It's going to be a busy week, too, and for large parts of it I'm not going to be in the office.  Which means no computer.  Which means no blather... at least until I figure out how to do it subliminally or something.

So...

Hmm.

Maybe we'll all just have to collectively stab Ontario in the shins (you're off the hook for today, Wheat) and see if we can make the not-Toronto office squeal.

Or at least post a photo or something.

That's it for now, folks.  Type at you later.

Every nose has its thorn

Today's iris bud does not have a nose.  Or a thorn.  It does look a bit heil hitlerish though, don't you think?  Or maybe it's just preparing to do some synchronised swimming or something, I don't know.

Now, about the title.  I've spent a bit too long today buggering around with my iGoogle page and adding a few new gadgets, and as a result I haven't really bothered to come up with any blatherage.  So... I thought I'd tell you briefly about my father and the nose songs.

Don't worry.  I promise that the above sentence will make sense at some point.

When I was a kid, my father had a habit of changing the words to songs when he sang them to us.  Not all of the words, mind; just a few key ones.  Nose was the usual substitute.  Most of the songs my father sang had nose in there somewhere.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe he liked confusing the heck out of his kids.  Or maybe he liked laughing at me when I'd try so hard to correct him.  Yep, I was OLF right from the very beginning, now that I look back on things.

I got used to my father's nose songs, of course.  So used to them that when he sang a song that actually had the word nose in it I was sure he was making it up. Absolutely positive that he HAD to be making it up.  He wasn't.

Now, the weird thing about all of this (like the nose thing wasn't weird enough) is that somewhere along the line I picked up my father's habit of changing the words in songs.  Me.  The person who silently rolls her eyes (well, I suppose most people roll their eyes silently, now that I come to think of it) when people screw up the songs she likes.  My personal excuse is that I do it on purpose to amuse myself, although in the end I think it's more reflex than anything.  Considering my upbringing, I suppose I come by it honestly.

In case you wondered, I'm not a nose person myself.  My word of choice is a little more focussed.  If a song has the word money in it somewhere, you'd better believe that in my head it becomes monkey almost immediately.  In fact, I think that a few monkeys improve most songs.  Go on, try it for yourself and see if you don't agree.

Or maybe you won't.  That's ok.  I did say that the whole thing was weird.






Anyway, that's it from me.  If any of my two fans became fond of the little modelling clay men and their adventures from a few months ago, they've reappeared on the other blog as of this morning because I woke up too early.  And if anyone out there has no clue what I'm talking about, don't worry.  That's about par for the blather.

----------

Edited to add:  this.  No reason, except that it's fantastic.

Doodlidoodlido

The photo's a few weeks old, I'm afraid.  I need to take some new ones today, but the weather report's saying that I'd better do it soon if I don't want to be fighting the wind and the rain.  This blather might be short.

Today's post title sounds a bit like a brain-damaged rooster, don't you think?  It wasn't what I was aiming for, but once I'd typed it out I just had to keep it.  It's too weird not to.

What the weirdness came from (other than my generally weird brain) is that I just finished doing something that I don't normally do on a Saturday morning.  No, not laundry.  I do that nearly every Saturday morning.  What I was up to this particular Saturday morning was doodling.  Um, and laundry.  They're not mutually exclusive, now that we don't have to beat things against rocks to get them clean.

Anyway.

I normally wait until later in the day to get my weekend art fix, but since it's Drawing Day today I thought I should make sure I got something done before I got distracted by other things.  Besides, I'm hoping to get TWO doodles out of the way this Saturday (gasp!  Shock!), since I have an idea for Illustration Friday that doesn't involve the daylily I sketched for Drawing Day.

Oh, such a productive person, me.  If I manage to get the second thing finished, that is.

You've probably guessed by now that I'm not exactly driven to draw.  I like drawing, yes, and I get a lot of pleasure from drawing once I actually get down to it, but I can't say I've ever felt drawing to be a need.  There's a reason why (well, more than one reason, really) I call myself a doodler rather than an artist.  It's a casual hobby.  I don't take it too seriously.  I know I could be a lot better at it if I did, but I guess that doesn't concern me too much.

Besides, I tend to be the type of person who doesn't want her hobbies to become serious.  Those people who work night and day to build a specialised business from what started as a hobby but that's ok because they're "doing what they love"?  I'm not one of those at all.  At all.  Work is work and hobbies are hobbies, and if a hobby becomes work it's time to stop.  And I can honestly say that I know that about myself, not just that I think that about myself.

You see, I used to teach singing.

I've sung for most of my life.  Grew up taking singing lessons and performing.  Sort of fell into leading a childrens' choir and giving private lessons as an adult.  And I don't do a bit of it anymore.  Not a single bit.  I haven't even touched my piano in a year, and I love playing piano.

As long as no one's listening, that is.  I'm a pretty horrible pianist.

The problem was that the whole thing stopped being fun.  Trying to coordinate choir stuff from out of town (the choir was in my home town where my father still lives, but I'm only here on weekends).  Listening to scales and vocalises over and over and over again.  Correcting theory papers, ferWhomeverssake.  It became a job, not a hobby, and that sucked.

Now?  Well, I still sing.  That'll never stop; it's too hardwired.  I sing for myself, though.  Will I go back to performing?  Maybe someday.  I do kind of miss it.  Will I go back to teaching?  I can't see it.  It's been a good six years since I stopped, and I mean the good in that phrase.  Will I touch the piano?  Yes, of course.  Poor thing can't go neglected forever, and the father figure did have it tuned a few months ago...





Ah.  Well, so much for a short post.  I'd better see if I can get at least a few photos before the day turns to crap.  Have a good Drawing Day, everyone.  Even if you don't draw and don't want to take part in the "official" business, why not take a moment for a little doodle?  It's fun when there's no pressure.  And if you're desperate to see my daylily (and if so, why?), you can check it out here.  Or not.  It's just a hobby, after all.

Busy, have I mentioned?

I have approximately a half-hour before I have to set up for my next program, and in that time I'm intending to post on two blogs.

Think maybe I have my priorities a little skewed?

Also, a bag of potato chips does not equal lunch.  You know, for any of you out there who hadn't realised that fact yet.

Busy is better than picking your nose, I suppose (unless you have a particularly interesting nose) but a happy medium wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Oh, and speaking of mediums (or media), let's see if this will work:



Drawing Day is tomorrow, boys and girls.  Draw something -- anything -- and post it on a blog, Facebook, DeviantART, or pretty much wherever else you post things.  Doesn't have to be fancy; the whole point is just to get busy and draw.

And that's my cue to head to the other blog now for a spot of weirdness.  Yeah, like you never get weirdness from me.  This'll be a different kind of weirdness than you usually see from me, though.  Later, all.

Ok, here's the thing:

I have mentioned, I think, that it's busy season at work?  Well, I've been busy.  I've also been doing pond studies today, and I'm cold, wet (from the rain, silly.  Not the pond), and a bit cranky.

Do you really want me to blather, given that?

Didn't think so.

I'll attempt to be more blathery (or at least pointless) on the weekend, ok?

Unless I'm busy.

Which is a definite possibility.





Sigh.

Family moment of the day:

It's my younger brother's birthday today.  And he's OLD!

Which makes me...

Um...




Ok, so that taunt didn't work out as well as I'd planned.  Ah well.  Happy birthday anyway.

And this might be it for the blather today.  Busy day for me.  I'll try to drop by later for a pointless photo, but don't count on it.

Vague whinging from the West

So, would you like a break from hummingbirds and orioles to listen to me complain?  Great.  I thought you might.

I know I spend a fair amount of time here whining about not feeling well.  Hey, it's just what I do.  I don't really plan out these posts (noooo... really?), and oftentimes when I sit down to blather something out it's just coming off the top of my head.

And frequently, what's off the top of my head is whinge.

As far as the whole health thing goes, what may not be coming out very clearly in blogland is that damned near everything I complain about is minor.  Sure, I have a few ongoing issues like the effed-up ankle, but all in all?  I moan to moan.  Or to fill space.  Or whatever.

Having said that, though, I thought I'd let you in on why the moaning gets loud and repetitive this time of year.  Let's examine the usual timeline, ok?  First off, late winter.  That'd be snow mould season, and I don't breathe for a bit.  Then, early spring.  Poplar pollen, and I don't breathe for a bit.  Then things start getting busy at work, and I start seeing a lot of school children.  Inevitably, one of them manages to give me a cold or something and I don't breathe for a bit.  And since I'm still in busy season, I don't get a chance to just rest and get over the not-breathing, and things drag out.

Every frigging spring.

Any wonder I get a little cranky?

Unfortunately for the whinge factor, my current cold/flu/whatever took an unexpected turn just as things seemed to be improving, and I now have an ear infection.  And... I'm pretty much as miserable as an ear infection can make a person.  A person with very little in the way of serious things to complain about, true, but miserable all the same.  I'd gladly pull a van Gogh if I thought it would do any good.  Or if I had a special someone (or, erm, prostitute) who needed to be sent an ear, I guess.

Anyway.  To summarise, I'm achy, I'm crabby, I'm tired of being sick, and for the most part I'M FINE.




And I suppose occasionally I need to be reminded of that.


[/almost point]

Narrowly avoided the pumpkin this time, I think.