Brain bubble

I've been sneezing all morning. No idea why. It's probably allergic something-or-other and is completely unimportant, except that I've sneezed so much that I feel like perhaps I've blown a bubble into my brain that's absorbed any kind of blogging thought that I might have had before the sneezing started.

In other words, I've got nothing.

Is it too early after a two-week hiatus to be saying that?

Well, I'll tell you what. Why don't I talk briefly about today's pointless photo for a change, and if that leads me to a topic I'll keep typing. If not, I'll stop typing.

Sounds good to me.

Ok. This is the Raven River, just outside of Caroline, AB (home town of Kurt Browning, although that's not exactly why I was there). If I had taken the picture the day before, you would have seen a lovely FALL scene. Then... the next day it wasn't fall. And the snit started. As pretty as it may look, my two fans know that photos like these don't make me especially happy.

Especially when I'm the one taking them.

Um... I still have nothing.

Time for an anyway, then.

Anyway, this next week will probably feature at least a couple of pictures from Caroline, although you won't be able to tell that from the shots. Makes sense, right?

Erm... please tell me that my two fans know enough to NOT expect sense from this blog by now?



All right. That's it from me for today. Don't be too concerned if blogging is a bit spotty this week. I have no idea what the state of the office is going to be at any particular time because of the painting. I  may or may not have a work space. Guess we'll see.

But I liked them the way they were...

I know, I know. I really need to take some new photos. Today, maybe. We'll see if I can get inspired about snow.

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This'll be short because I really should get something to eat. My fault for getting caught up in something else.

The something, if anyone was wondering, was frustration.

I can never figure out why companies take perfectly good products and either discontinue them or bugger around with them to the point where they're not good products anymore. I mean, I know that products need to be updated to keep the fickle consumer interested, but when something's good to begin with and develops a following, can't a corporation just roll with that for a while?

Apparently not, as was evidenced by my very fruitless search for winter boots this morning.

I have a pair of boots that I love, but unfortunately I've loved them for a couple or three years now and I know that this season is going to be their last. They're great boots, even for someone as hard to please as I am. Combine the ankle problem with wide feet and the fact that I'm a woman (why is it that so many companies seem to assume that women want cute boots as opposed to good boots?), and it isn't easy to find something that I can live in all winter. Or at least most of the winter.

I did, though. About... oh, maybe ten years ago.

I won't tell you the company or the style or anything like that, because in the end it doesn't matter. Suffice to say that since then I've been buying the same basic model (different styles as the styles changed every year, yes, but the same basic model) of really good boot. Last year, though, I didn't get around to looking for my replacement pair because the boots were still holding up well.

This year?

THEY'VE BEEN DISCONTINUED.

Gah.

My good boots have been discontinued, and the model that's replaced them has been getting poor reviews on several websites that I checked out this morning.

Gah, again. Stupid company. What did you do to my boots?

Ah well. I'm not in danger of being bootless in the immediate future, and in the meantime I'll keep looking for possible replacements from other companies. And if any of my two fans know of someone who makes decently warm lower-cut boots that are easy to get on and off and have good grips for the balanced-challenged among us... well, for Whomever's sake point me in the right direction, ok?





This whole thing just makes me sad. Or hungry. Yeah, lunch would probably be a good idea. Later, all.

Bonus chapter 1237: Wherein Dee likes fireworks

Ok, honestly? I'm mostly just posting this now because I'll forget by tomorrow. I'm getting older, you know. Brain isn't what it used to be.

If it ever was...

Anyway.

I'm in at my father's place for the first time in a couple of weeks, and it turns out that today is the town's official start to the shopping season. Jealousy about the American's Black Friday chaos (augh. That word again. It's been that kind of a day, I guess), do you think? Maybe. Most towns around here have a day to encourage local shopping, though, and have had for years. My home town always used to call it Midnight Madness, but this year they're stopping at 11 pm. Just as well. I remember having to work Midnight Madness when I was a grocery cashier in high school, and that last hour was absolute boring torture.

Anyway. Again.

The past couple of years, the town business association has tried to drum up the excitement a bit by starting off the evening with a fireworks display.

I like fireworks. It says so in the title.

I do, actually, but there's something extra neat about the Midnight(ish) Madness display. They set it up in a field that's just down the hill from my father's place, so a person really gets a front row seat for the whole thing. A front row seat to the point where you can see the techs with their red flashlights moving from set-up to set-up (and yes, I'm aware that I'm likely not using proper terminology. I like fireworks; doesn't mean I necessarily know much about them).

A front row seat like that is really cool. Far enough away that you're not in immediate danger (although last year there was no snow and they did set the field slightly on fire. Fire trucks are good things, boys and girls), but close enough that you feel every explosion.

Did I mention cool? Maybe hot would be the better word.

I wasn't going to bother watching this time and managed to miss the first few booms, but it didn't take long before I was standing at the end of the driveway like the rest of the neighbours and admiring the colourful destruction. They put on a decent show, too. No fancy music or choreography, but a nice selection of shells and a fairly long go of it.

And I had fun and it wasn't stupidly cold out, so all in all a good time was had by all. Or at least by me.





And the whole thing gives me an excuse to post this link, so all good. Click on the black box on that page for your own show, if fake fireworks are your thing. Personally I'd go for the real ones every time, but at least this way we can all play with the pretty colours.

Done typing now. Don't expect two posts tomorrow, even if I do have a lot of days to make up for.

Chapter 1236: Wherein Dee hates chaos

Look at the pretty flowers. Needless to say, it's not a recent photo...

Ok. This will be, of necessity, short. I'm in the middle of packing up my desk, and I thought I'd take a short brain break.

I'll pause while my two fans digest that last sentence.









Yep, that's right. Packing up my desk. I've finally quit this job.

Or maybe I've been fired.

Or maybe they're painting the building, and the office needs to be cleared.



Probably the last one.

Ok, yeah, really the last one.

The entire building is being repainted, and they've decided to start with the behind-the-scenes stuff. Part of which, as you've now gathered, includes the office I share with Wheat. All of my artwork (well, not my artwork. I had the staff decorate one of my walls with fingerpaintings. Seriously. It was fun) has been taken down, I have no calendar, I have no assorted crap under the desk, I have lots of assorted crap on TOP of the desk... and I hate it.

I just don't really do well with disorder, you know?

I know, I know. Huge surprise coming from a known olf.

Ah well. The good news is that it's giving me a chance to get rid of some accumulated garbage. The bad news is that next week I'll have to put all the non-garbage back. More chaos.

Kind of makes me wish that I was still stuck in my apartment (incidentally, Alberta weather is living up to its usual weirdness. Three days ago I wouldn't have been able to go outside without a full-on skidoo suit. Today I wondered why I wore a coat), except that being stuck in my apartment would have meant that someone else would have packed my stuff.

And that would have been far more anxiety-inducing than having to pack it myself.

Speaking of which, I should get back to the mess.





Yay?

Hey there, blog

So. Yeah. I have a blog, did you know?

Ok, explanation. A couple of sick days = no computer.

Four days at a conference = no blogging.

Weather went completely in the toilet = Dee couldn't go outside = no computer.

And now? I have an incredible amount of work stuff to catch up on, so this is all the post you're getting. At least my two fans know that the place hasn't been completely forgotten, though...



Yep. Type at you later.

No post of the day:

Ok. The internet was down at work all morning. I have lots of actual work things to catch up on now that it's back. Not even going to bother with a photo because this post isn't worth it.

Oh, and I probably won't be in tomorrow, so if you miss me you'll just have to read the archives until Friday. All right? All right.

What? You mean I have to WORK at work?

That's not-so-subtle code for I've been busy and I don't really have time to post today, so all you're really going to get is a pointless photo (which, incidentally, is one of the few remaining fall photos on my nerdstick. We're soon going to be back to flowers, since I didn't bother to take any new shots last weekend).

It's been one of those days where a lot's been getting done, but none of it has anything to do with what I'd planned to be doing today. Ah well. Looks like the newsletter's going to be delayed as usual.

That's such a normal occurrence that I shouldn't even bother to type it, though. And speaking of typing, time for me to get back to the typing I get paid to do.

Later, then.

And it was going so well...

So.

My head hurts.

It's a shame, really, because up until now it had been a decent day. I got to work earlier than I usually do for a staff meeting, I made an ass of myself in said staff meeting (that's the role I generally play, so still a decent day), I've been surprisingly productive for the rest of the morning...

And now my head hurts.

Figures, really. I should have been expecting it. After all, first we're dealing with the fact that I do still have a cold (knock wood, but it hasn't been a bad one this time around. Who knew I could have a cold that didn't make me feel like death?), and then we need to add to that the FRIGGING TIME CHANGE.

Oh, sorry. My caps slipped.

No surprise for someone with my sleep patterns, I know, but all the twice-yearly time changes do for me is give my brain an excuse to get even goofier with its nighttime habits. And you know what happens with this fall back nonsense, of course. My brain, which generally has me up by five am every damned day, doesn't realise that five am is now four am.

And yes, even though I was up until well past midnight according to the clock (watching something stupid on tv, but that's another problem for another blather), my brain decided to be wide awake at four.

No wonder my head hurts.

And with that, you'll excuse me if I delve into the purse to see what I can find to at least take the edge off so I can get a bit more work done before I completely crash.



I hope everyone else enjoyed that mythical extra hour. And if you did, I'm allowed to hate you.

Singing along

My two fans have probably noticed that my Sunday posts can be emptier than they really should be. Sunday should be the Day Of Blather, if you think about it. I don't really have much to do besides fold the laundry that's been air-drying overnight, and that should give me plenty of time to think of an actual topic AND flesh it out a bit. Sundays should be the day when you get to see what I'm really capable of. They aren't, though.

And why?

Internet radio.

Sundays tend to be the day when I turn the music on and sing along. Sing along while I'm doing some casual surfing, sing along if I'm playing a game. And yes, sing along while I'm trying to blog.

I'm singing along as I type this, actually. The Kinks. All day, and all of the night...

As you can imagine, singing along while trying to think of something to blather about doesn't usually add up to any real kind of post content.

Can't say that I care, really. When it comes down to it, I'd rather sing than blog anyway. Singing makes me happy. Blogging? Often leaves me dissatisfied, because I know I could be better at it if I'd put some real concentration into it.

But I can't do that when I'm singing along.

And I'd sooner sing along.

And there you have it.

Sundays, in case you wondered, are usually Sixties days. The stuff I grew up with, thanks to my father's tastes. The vast majority of it came out before I was born (I'm old, but I'm not that old), but since it was around the house it's all very familiar. And since I know most of the words, it's good for a singalong.

And occasionally a chair dance, but that's another topic altogether.

And on the subject of topic, since you now have my excuse for not having one today I think I'll stop typing now and go have a look at some of the Illustration Friday entries that have been posted so far.





To the accompaniment of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, apparently.

Have a good Sunday, everyone.

Can't take her anywhere

This time next week (well, maybe not this exact time, but you get my meaning) I'll be preparing to go away to a conference for four days.

As you can imagine if you've been following the gist of me (or at least blogworld me, which is, admittedly, semi-me. I'm not sure the internet would be interested in the whole package), this doesn't make me especially happy.

What you might not know, though, is the biggest reason it doesn't make me happy.

You might be thinking that it's because I'm very attached to my routines and I don't like to see them disrupted. Well... I am, yes, but I'm not that set in my ways that I can't take a few days to do something different.

You might think that it's because I'll be around people for four days and the loner in me will go absolutely bizonkers (it's like bonkers but with extra iz... or maybe it's just the Snoop Dogg version. I don't know). No, not really. It's not like we don't get down time. I was worried about that last year, but it worked out all right.

No, it's not the good ol' OLF brain that makes me dread things like this. It's the physical side of things.

I'll explain, yes. Somewhat.

Generally I'm in decent health (despite how much I complain about my health here, you have to admit that it's all little whinges), but there are a couple of things going on that make being in unfamiliar territory a bit difficult for me these days. One is the whole sleep issue, and the other I think I'll sidestep just now to avoid hitting tmi territory.

Sleep is definitely going to be a problem for this chronic insomniac, I can tell you that now. As my two fans know, I don't sleep well at the best of times. Trying to sleep in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar situation? Absolutely the farthest thing from the best of times. At last year's conference lack of sleep had me bursting into tears during one session (to be fair, and as I've mentioned before, it's not that hard to make me burst into tears anyway. Add no sleep to that and you could probably make me cry by looking at me cross-eyed), and faceplanting into a book I was reading at another. Good times, good times. So not looking forward to a repeat.

The other problem... hmm. Maybe I'll go all medical on the blog another time, but for now I'll just say that there may be a food issue to deal with.

So what to do besides stew about the whole adventure? I'm not sure. I suppose I could try bringing out the heavy chemical artillery to make sure I get at least a little rest, but that leads to being logy and useless the next day. Not too much I can do about the other thing besides bringing my own food, and I'm not sure I want to go to that inconvenience yet just to avoid another inconvenience.

Ah well. Nothing I can do about the whole thing at the moment besides fuss needlessly about it. And get some lunch.





Yeah, lunch. Type at you later, then.

No.

No pointless photo for today, because for reasons known only to itself sometimes my work computer likes to pretend that my nerdstick doesn't exist.

No post, probably, because I was sort of thinking that I'd get something jogged into my head when I saw the photos on my nerdstick.

No doubt you're tired of these excuses, but hey. You get what you get around here, right?



If I'm in the mood for this later when I'm at my father's place maybe I'll give this a try again.









Or, you know, not.

Compressorless

Being the hapless OLF that I am, I must report that I'm currently having a bit of tire anxiety. Not a huge amount, no, but it's still there.

You see, I'm compressorless at the moment.

The air compressor that I've carried around in the trunk for years (two different trunks, in fact) has decided not to behave anymore, so I've ditched it. Um, at my father's place. He thought he might be able to use it for parts.

Anyway.

It's funny how being without something that you usually take for granted suddenly makes you nervous that you're going to need it. I mean, seriously. If your tires are in good repair, how often do you really need a compressor? The last time I tried to use mine was in the summer (my tire was pierced beyond simple pumping up that time, though), and I can't really remember the last time I used it before then. Years, probably. All it did was ride around with me as a bit of emergency tire insurance. I may not have to use one again for years.

I hope I won't. I don't have one now.

It makes me a little tense, that.





Now, right about now many of my two fans are bashing their heads against the desk (they tend to do that anyway, but they're probably going at it somewhat more violently at the moment) in lieu of physically shaking me and yelling JUST GO BUY ANOTHER DAMNED COMPRESSOR, SILLY WOMAN.

Except they'd better not be saying the silly woman part. I'm the only one who's allowed to call me silly woman.

And anyway, I can't go buy another one just now. Someone may be buying one for me, and I don't need two.

You see, when I found out my compressor wasn't working properly at my father's place (I was wanting to top up a slightly low tire, in case you were wondering. I'm not quite neurotic enough to do random compressor tests just for the heck of it), I hinted (OK, TOLD. It wasn't actually a hint) that I'd be ok with him buying me a compressor for my birthday.

Yeah, I'm not shy about asking for useful things for my birthday. After all, it's how I've got my last two winter coats, and that's worked out all right.

So. Yeah. I suspect I'll be getting a compressor for my birthday, but it's not my birthday for a while. And in the meantime I'm compressorless.

And nervous.

And OLF. But there's absolutely no news in that statement.

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In other non-news, do you know how weird it feels to wear a ring when you haven't been wearing a ring for a while? I don't know what possessed me to put a ring on today that I haven't worn for months, but there you go. I'm wearing a ring, and it feels weird.

And yes, you needed to know that.

Back to work for Yours Oddly now, ok?

Well, crud

Literally. I've got the crud.

Not to give too many details, but the last couple of days have been hell on my digestive system. Today? Things seem to be settling down into more of an everyday cold (gee. Haven't had one of those for at least a few weeks now), but I'm still feeling a bit delicate.

And pissed off, naturally.

It wouldn't be me having a cold if I wasn't pissed off about it.

Not that being pissed off is terribly productive, mind. I know that. Doesn't stop me, but I do know it.

Anyway, I need to get back to actual work, so I'm going to have to keep this short today. Short and cruddy and pissed off.



Guess it's a good thing that this particular form of entertainment is free, eh?