Things I've learned from the new camera so far:

1. How to take photos of nanking cherry blossoms in the middle of winter. Riiight. Of course this is still an old photo, people.

2. Subject is too dark is the camera's polite version of you forgot to take the lens cap off again, Dee. Sigh. It's been a long time since I've dealt with non-automatic lens caps, did I mention?

3. I've kind of forgotten how to hold a camera. I think it's going to take a little practice to get my hands out of point-and-shoot mentality, but I'm looking forward to it.

I'm also looking forward to having some actual subject matter. Geez, winter is boring for a person who likes spiders and flowers.

Speaking of winter, I just went out and plugged in the car. Now, for those of my two fans who are unfamiliar with Alberta (or Canada in general), plugging in the car does NOT mean that the car runs on electricity. One of my favourite -- and I suppose in a way unfortunate for the person involved -- plug-in-the-car stories goes back to when I was living in rez during my first year of university. I've probably told it before, but what the heck. Tis the season for repeats, after all. One of the guys on my floor was from California and had driven his car up to Edmonton for school. When the first cold snap was expected, he came up from the parking lot all excited and puzzled because he didn't realise that we already had so many electric cars in Canada. When we asked him what he meant, he told us he'd noticed that most of the cars in the lot were plugged in. That's when we broke it to him that it was going to get cold enough out there to freeze his engine block, and he'd better go have a block heater installed asap.

Having grown up with block heaters and the like, it's hard for me to imagine a the wonderful world where people don't even know that such a thing exists or is needed.

I probably didn't have to plug the car in today because it's only -17C at the moment (only -17C? Well, heavens. The past few days it's been in the mid -20s. -17C is balmy after that, isn't it? Hmm. Not so much, but let's pretend it is), but I figured I'd give it a warm since it's been sitting for a few days. Besides, I really hate the sound of an engine trying to start cold. Something about the mechanical strain makes me even more nervous about winter driving than I am anyway.

Oh, I should clarify that. I'm not so much nervous of the driving, per se. I don't find winter driving terribly pleasant, but I'm reasonably competent at it. No, what I'm nervous about is the possibility of mechanical failure or accident that might leave me stranded on the highway or something. Sure, the highways are fairly busy and it's not like I wouldn't be found if for some reason I couldn't just phone. Being stranded in the cold, though, can be dangerous. Doubly so for someone who's allergic to cold.

Of all the stupid things to be allergic to in Canada, cold has to be one of the absolute stupidest. And for anyone out there who doesn't know what I'm talking about, google it. I'm not in the mood to get into explanations yet again.



Aaanyway. The car's plugged in, and I'm planning to head home this afternoon. It may (for a change) not mean I'm disappearing from the blog, though, since I'm planning to go into work tomorrow. We'll just see how hectic work is, since I haven't been there for a while.

Later, all.

Art-like things and pointless photography

My two fans will know that today's title is one of my regular post labels. It's typically me, really. My doodles? I can't think of them as art, so they become art-like things. My photography? Well, I'm not being modest when I say that it's pointless. It's meant to be pointless. I've been doing it with a little autofocus camera that's (more than) a few years and 10, 000 photos old now, and while it's been a good little camera there's no doubt that it has limitations. That's been part of the fun, really. A lot of the photos you see here on the blog are the result of me trying to fool the camera into doing things that it doesn't think it can do. What can I say? I like playing with futility.

I also like taking pictures. I've liked it since I was a kid with a 110 camera. Um... for those of you out there who don't actually remember film cameras (sigh), here's what I mean. I took loads of pictures with that and a few other cameras. Dad even taught me the basics of f-stops and shutter speeds with his Pentax. I loved taking photos... until I was old enough to pay for my own developing.

Ouch.

Boys and girls, photography used to be expensive.

I still took pictures after that, but not quite as... extensively, shall we say. I still took pictures, and my parents bought me a nice Minolta SLR in high school for the trip to France that wasn't (our school trip supervisor used a flimsy excuse to back out at the last minute, so we never got to go. I've still never been to Europe. Thanks a lot, Teacher-who's-pointless-to-mention-since-she's-dead-now). The camera got used, though. I took it on tour with my university choir, and if you look through my photo albums you can even see the barest beginnings of my current (weird) photographic point of view. Only the barest, though. We're still talking film cameras here, and I couldn't really afford to waste money on experiments.

But then. Oh, then.

Digital, baby.

As many  pictures as you wanted, and you could see them without paying the local film lab.

Awesome.

First, I played around with the 1M jobby that my father bought once the units became less expensive (and faster. How many of you out there remember how slooow digital cameras were at first? The one we had at work -- for a nature centre -- couldn't have taken a picture of an animal unless it was stuffed). A few years later, I was given the Lumix I have now. 3M, Leica lens, tiny screen, no image stabilisation or anything fancy like that, but I've sure enjoyed it. My dad currently has a... 5M, I want to say... autofocus that I've used a few times, but the vast majority of the pictures I've taken in the past few years have been with the Lumix. As a bonus, by the way, images from a 3M camera don't take up too much of the limited memory space that Blogger offers for their in-house image hosting, so even after all these years of pointless blog photos I haven't had to switch to linking from my Flickr account (which so far hasn't even been used, so don't bother looking for it) or anything like that.

I wonder how that's going to change now?





I GOT A CAMERA FOR CHRISTMAS!

Of course, anyone with half a brain who read yesterday's post had probably guessed that already. Or anyone with less than half of a brain who's been reading this one.

Yours Pointlessly has officially entered the world of DSLRs, folks. I'm debating on whether to give you the specs of the thing (although it'll be pretty easy to find that out from the Exif data once I start posting photos from the camera), but let's just say that it's considered an "entry level" camera (which is plenty for the kind of puttering around that I do) that I see has some decent reviews. It came with the pretty standard 18-55mm zoom, and I expect that I'll be saving my pennies for a macro in the nearest possible future.

Yep. I'm actually going to have to start thinking about photography again instead of just point-and-shooting it. I'm reeeally rusty on SLRs at this point, but the advantage of today's cameras and their automatic features is that I'll be able to use the camera even while I'm still figuring it out.

I have to say, I'm looking forward to actually being able to focus a shot the way I want to. I haven't done that for a long time. And I must admit, there's something very satisfying about feeling a shutter snap when you take a picture, rather than just hearing a computer simulation.

So when will you be seeing my first efforts? There's a question. The camera didn't come with a cable (which, wtf company-that-I-haven't-named-yet? You can't be bothered to include a cable? It was bad enough when they started doing that with DVD players), and the card reader on this computer has never worked properly. It'll probably have to wait at least until I can get in to work, I guess. By then, though, I might even manage to have something worth looking at.

Or maybe I should make it completely pointless, just to show you that better equipment doesn't change the weirdness of the photographer.

Either way, I'm feeling -- as I said yesterday -- royally spoiled, but at least it's spoiled with something that will be put to good use. Or pointless use. But use all the same.



Poor blog. What are you in for?

Merry Laundry fa la la

It's December 25th, and I -- as you may have guessed from the post title -- am doing laundry.

Well... what do YOU do for Christmas?




Now, if this is sounding kind of depressing to you, it shouldn't. It's just that Christmas is pretty low-key here, that's all. We've done presents already, there's not too much to do for supper since we rotisserie the turkey (and as I say every time I mention this, rotisseried turkey is sooo much better than just about any other way you can do turkey), there's no small children to entertain, so why not do laundry in the meantime? It has to be done eventually, and it's not like I'm beating it against a rock or anything.

For those of you who are having a more hectic, full-on family Christmas, remember to try to take the time to enjoy the company of the people that you're with. No one's going to care if everything's perfect, and if they do they should probably be looking at adjusting their priorities.

For those of you not celebrating Christmas for whatever reason, have a good Tuesday.

Oh, and today's photo? Obviously not new. There will be new photos coming up, though. Yes, even though I don't like taking pictures of winter. There'll be new photos because someone in this room (and except for the fish, I'm the only one in the room) got royally and unexpectedly spoiled. More on that later. As for the other things under the tree, well, let's just say that I have a couple of very thoughful people in my life, and thank you. Speaking of that, though, I really should take just one quick new photo. Gimme a sec...

Yes, that is a picture of feet.

Somebody out there knows why.





Merry Christmas, everybody.

So yeah...

Haven't been around a computer much (or at all, the why of which we're not getting into at the moment), feeling a little droopy (which almost makes today's not-new photo have a point. Sorry, blog), spent too much time just now trying to catch up on some of the internet silliness I've missed, and a fish is staring at me.

Um, the fish is across the doorway from the computer here at my dad's place. Fish-staring is a bit of a creepy hazard.

Are you getting the feeling that this isn't really going to be a post? It isn't. I would like to know, though, why it is that I spend so much time watching tattoo shows on the television when I'm sick. I get why I spend so much time watching wedding shows (to laugh at and be puzzled by the people who are willing to go into so much debt for such silly things that no one will ever remember, if you wondered), but tattoos? I mean, I have nothing against tattoos and have thought for a long time about getting one or two myself, but why was it my personal theme on TV for the past few days? That's just weird.

Ah well.

I promise I'll try for a real post or two sometime in the next couple of days. Now, though, I should head upstairs and actually show my father that I don't just come here to use his electronics.

Oh, and for anyone who was curious, Max the cat is still around. Still eating, still interested, just getting slower and slower. Tenacious animal, that one.

Happy Christmas if I happen to not post tomorrow.

I probably will, though.

Have to make up for this past week somehow, right?

Look, a bird

Ok, so it's a ladybird rather than a bird bird. And yes, I grew up calling them ladybugs like 99% of the people on the left side of the Atlantic. The professional naturalist in me knows that they're beetles rather than bugs, though, so I've tended to shift my terminology over the years. Just like gophers have become ground squirrels, especially when I'm talking to the public. Er, except for the Pocket Gopher, which isn't a ground squirrel (and is, in fact, a gopher).

But that's not why you called.

There's a whackload (the official scientific term) of chickadees outside my office widow right now, cracking open sunflower seeds from a nearby feeder, chasing each other around, and generally being distracting. It's not unusual to see birds outside the window here; the nature centre is, after all, at the entrance to a wildlife sanctuary, and there's a cluster of bushes right here that gives them perfect roosts and shelter. Lately we've even had a flicker coming by regularly and sitting on the top of the window frame. We generally only get to see his bottom half, but we figure that he's probably cleaning dead insects and such from the building. If that's the case, more power to him. Or it. I haven't got a good enough look to know whether it's a he or a she.

All this is probably making me sound like I know what I'm talking about, but mostly I suck at birds (and I've really got to start watching how I use the phrase suck at. The person who asked for permission to use my ground squirrel -- not gopher -- drawing yesterday found it in a post on the other blog in which I boldly stated I suck at ground squirrels. It made for an interesting exchange of business e-mails afterwards, I can tell you. Note that you used the phrase professional naturalist a couple of paragraphs above this, Dee. Suck at doesn't really indicate professional anything. Well, one thing, maybe. But we all need to get our minds out of the gutter at this point). Oh, I know my basics after all of these years doing the job I do, but I always hesitate to answer bird questions. It's partly because I'm not as comfortable with birds as I am with mammals and plants (of the three, by the way, mammals are by far the cuddliest...), but largely because there are so many real birders out there. Birders can tend to be obsessive, and if I'm asked a bird question by somebody other than a child or someone who's just put up their first bird feeder, the chances are that the person asking the question already knows about five times more about the subject than I do.

Aaanyway. The reason I started this post, and the reason for the post title (which has become something of a shorthand amongst some of us for Sorry, but I just got distracted) is that work, health, and life have been a bit like a shrub full of chickadees for me lately. I seem to be chasing around branches, twittering (as opposed to tweeting, which I've also been doing. Only on the work account, though) and flighty, and not really getting much done for all the distraction. The blog's suffered, obviously. Will that continue? Oh, probably. I'm going to try to make it more than the once a week effort it's started to become, but no promises. Whatever happens, happens.

And there'll likely be more birds along the way. Especially with this office set-up. Back to work for me, now.

Quick photoless post

Kind of busy right now, but I just had to say that the internet is a weird place sometimes. A random (well, ok, not entirely random) doodle of a ground squirrel that I did a while ago has attracted the attention of someone who's putting together the program for an upcoming hibernation conference.

I've been asked for permission to put my doodle on the title page.

Yep.

My doodle. Doodle. Non-artist doodle.





The internet can be a weird, weird place all right...

There were words here yesterday

There were. I saw them. There was an actual, blathery post on the blog yesterday.

I don't think that there will be today.

It's been one of those mornings where I've just been fooling around catching up with some of the internet nonsense I didn't have time to keep track of during the week, and somehow or other all of the silliness made whatever thoughts I had about a post vanish.

I did have thoughts, you know. Or at least I thought that I had thoughts.

You'll notice, by the way, that we're back to old photos from last spring again. I just can't bring myself to go outside and take pictures of snow. It'll happen eventually, but for now I think I'll just stick to my stock of happy memories of warmer days past.

I suppose after my morning's internet travels I could make a quick yet again comment on the subject of black blogs. Black or dark backgrounds with light type, I mean. My two fans will have heard this from me before, but for those new to the program I'll just say that I really wish that people would stop doing black blogs. Sure, they may look good from a stylistic point of view, but for a large part of the population they can become almost unreadable. For me, with my myopia and astigmatism, the after-images I get after trying to concentrate on a black blog for any length of time are more than just distracting. They're almost headache-inducing. There's more than one black blog I follow because I really like the content, but I dread seeing long posts appear when I click on their updates. And there are plenty of wordy posts out there that I just haven't bothered to struggle through for very long because of blackblogitis.

It makes me a little sad, honestly, when I don't get to read your thoughts because I can't handle your design choices.



Ah well. None of this really matters to the people who have black blogs, so I don't know why I keep going on about it. I guess this is enough post for today. Happy Ada Lovelace's birthday, everyone.

The times they are a changing

The blast from the past you see in today's pointless (and rather awful. It was a quick one-off shot) photo are bottles from a trip to Hawaii my family took when I was in Grade 12 (so, sadly, over a quarter of a century ago now. And you kids get off of my lawn.). Times have changed in the sun since then, don't you think? Note the list of just about every kind of oil you can imagine on the Royal Hawaiian bottle -- and the thing's about half used, so my mother at least must have been slowly sizzling the whole time we were there. Also note the astonishing sun protection factor of 6 on the Bronztan. That would only be for the fair-skinned Irish amongst you in those days.

Those days being only 25 and some years ago, remember.

There's also a bottle of Royal Hawaiian after-sun lotion that I couldn't manage to hold at the same time for the picture. You had to soothe the lobster effect somehow, I guess.

Today? Well, even my daily make-up foundation has SPF 15. Changing times, indeed.

Oh, and don't even ask why we still have old suntan oil bottles around the house. I honestly couldn't tell you.

----------

I've been debating on whether to mention the other sign of changing times here since I usually like to keep things light, but I suppose that I may as well. The sad fact is that my father's place will soon become a petless household again.

I don't count the fish. Sorry ichthyophiles, but in the end you and I both know that fish are more decor than pets.

This house was always filled with pets when I was growing up, but after my brother and I left home my parents didn't replace pets as they reached the end of their lives. There was a time when this really was a petless place, and it was kind of a weird feeling. It must have eventually felt weird to my folks, too, because back in 1997 (I know the date from old vet records, in case anyone's thinking right now that I have a much more incredible memory than I really do) the house became pet happy again. First it was a dog. That'd be Rikki. Shortly after came Penny the cat, and a couple of weeks after that Max arrived to keep her company. That was 1997, though, and pet lifespans (well, all lifespans, of course), are finite.

The dog went first. Not surprising, since dogs generally don't get too much past a decade. A few months back it was Penny. Now, I'm pretty sure we won't have Max for too many more weeks, if that.

Now, keep in mind that this is a nearly 16 year old cat. I know that there are cats out there that've lived longer, but overall 16 years is a decent age. It's sad to see the end of a pet era, though, and Max? Well, Max is a pretty neat cat. He certainly has more personality that just about any other cat we've had, and we've had a few over the years.

What'll happen (petwise) when he's gone? I really don't know. My dad's talked occasionally about getting another dog, and it wouldn't surprise me too much if he did. Maybe he'll decide to take a pet break for a while to make up his mind, though. Tough call for someone like him who's had animals pretty much all his life except for the short period I mentioned above. No doubt I'll keep you posted either way, since it'll end up being blather worthy and Whomever knows that I'm usually short on blather.

Gee, this was a happy post. I need to end with something lighter, I think. Something pet related? Sure. Let's see... A parrot driving its own car? Why not. There might be a few of you out there who haven't seen that yet.

Incidentally, it's a good thing that this guy's pet wasn't an octopus. Wheat and I have a theory about the oncoming octopus world domination. They're going to take over, folks. Remind me to tell you why sometime. It'll freak you out, I promise.

Ok, here's a question:

How's a person who has two personal blogs and also manages the work blog supposed to keep all three current when she doesn't even have a computer at home?

Read that as: I got busy with a post for the work blog, so this one's getting shorted today. And as for the third? Oh, I just haven't been doodling much worth posting this week. I've been in pattern mood, and while that may make my hand and my brain happy, it's basically wtf as a blog post, really.

Today's pointless photo, then? Currant flowers from last spring. Currant flowers are bizarre, fascinating-looking things. You should look them up. You know, if you're lacking reading material because I can't be bothered to put together two proper posts in one day.

Catch you later. Later might not be for a day or two depending on what I can fit in between programs, but there will be a later at some point.

Bye now.

Damn you, expensive tea!

In honour of the fact that I had to dig my car out from what the news is saying was 11 cm of snow this morning -- and not a warm morning either -- today's pointless photo features apple blossoms.

I miss apple blossoms.

And I hate that my brain automatically decides on an Andrews Sisters earworm every time that I type apple blossoms...

----------

Ok, before I really get into this you should know that I'm not a coffee drinker. Never have been, never will be. I've never been to Starbucks, and I've never debated over the vast selection of K Cups that seem to be everywhere these days (incidentally, and not to be preachy, but people do realise that all those little plastic cups aren't biodegradable, right? My office mate was on a bit of a rant about them this morning). I've missed the fad, but I have a lot more money in my bank account because of it.

I am, however, a tea drinker.

Not in a several pots a day kind of way, but if I know I'm going to be at my desk all morning I'll have my insulated mug's worth of tea made. I guess that would equal about two standard cups of tea, but it's all I'll have for the day. Not that more would be a problem or anything. I'm just trying to give you an idea of the consumption here.

Now, I'll admit to being a semi tea snob. Semi in that I'll happily use bags if that's what's available and I'm not about to sit in a coffee bar ordering the fanciest, fussiest serving of perfect chai that anyone's ever heard of. Given my druthers, though, I'll use loose tea and not-quite-boiling water whenever possible.

Um, the boiling thing? Most teas, especially the cheaper teas in tea bags, don't do well with water that's too hot. It can make them more bitter.

The world of loose teas can be a dangerous thing, you know. Bigger range of flavours, actual identifiable tea leaves instead of the near dust in bags, and varieties that are hard to find in grocery stores. Like Darjeeling.

There's my downfall. I'm not a huge fan of Orange Pekoe or Earl Grey, but as an everyday tea I really like Darjeeling. There was a time when you could find Darjeeling in some of the grocery stores and I'd happily buy that (yes, even in bags), but it's a rarity nowadays. That means that a trip to the specialty store to satisfy my Darjeeling craving, and that, as I said before, is dangerous. For one thing, you never buy just the Darjeeling when you make the trip. It's Darjeeling and... well, maybe I should try a bit of this. Oh, and what have they made up to sample today? It's pretty good.. I'll just get a little of that, too.

And the Darjeeling?

There's a choice of Darjeelings. Darjeelings, plural. Yay Darjeelings. I should just get the standard stuff, but I wonder what makes this one so expensive? Do I want to smell it? Sure, why not?

Hmm.

Ok, I'll try that one this time. But just this time. Next time, it's back to the Darjeeling that costs half as much.



Yep. That's how I ended up with the stupidly expensive Darjeeling a while ago. I'm not even going to tell you what kind of Darjeeling, because if I do and you look it up and find out just how expensive it is you'll be saying you paid THAT MUCH for tea???

I did.

It's good.

It's better than good.

And I'm almost out.





Sigh.

Ah well. What with Christmas coming and all, I may -- just may -- be able to convince myself that I should use up some of my other tea before hearing the siren song of the stupidly expensive Darjeeling.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

Even if it's really good.



Dammit. It's not going to work, is it?

Sigh.

Chapter 1671: Wherein Dee is... random?

We're under a snowfall warning, which means of course that today's pointless photo is of a clematis with a fly on it.

They're called pointless for a reason, is what I'm saying.

Plus, I don't want to take snow pictures. I'm holding out for as long as I can on that one.

----------

The problem with blogging after not blogging for a week is that I have plenty of thoughts, but most of them aren't fleshed out enough for a full post. Plus, I'm at work at the moment so I really shouldn't be taking the time for an actual blather. So what to do? Maybe mention the fact that life would be a lot less rich without mustard (mmm... mustard...) but I don't really get the whole thing for Dijon mustard (mmm... mustard with wine...?). I'm not saying that I don't mind stronger mustards than your standard North American yellow, but give me a good deli-style or even English-style mustard over the Grey Poupon any day. Maybe it's just because I don't have a limo, I dunno.

You see now why this kind of thing can't really turn into a whole blog post by itself?

Ok, another thing on my mind because it's come up over and over again on television lately. It bugs me enough that I've mentioned it before, but it's SO much a headdesk for me that I have to get it out somewhere. Caution: lady's privates ahead. I promise it's PG, though.

Ladies. Read and learn. It embarrasses me to no end that you don't know your own  anatomy. It's becoming more and more apparent that a vast number of you don't know what your vagina is, or where it can be found. Look, even if you go out in the world's shortest skirt and no underwear, and even if you dance the dirtiest dance that's ever been danced, no one is going to see your vagina. No one. Because -- and it's so depressing that I even have to say this to grown women who should know better -- your vagina is INSIDE your body. Inside. As in, not visible from the outside. The only person in an average woman's life who will ever see her vagina is her gynecologist.

I learned that when I was in elementary school. If you didn't, go here and read about what a vulva is. Family-safe link, I promise. Maybe you could teach your daughters? I mean, really. I don't hear any men out there mistaking their scrotums for their penises. It's basic anatomy, folks.



Um, anyway. Vaginas and mustard is a weird combination to end on, but I need to get back to work. I'll try to get back to regular-ish posting soon, but I can't guarantee what the week will bring.

Except, apparently, more snow.

Pointless photo because oh crud of the day:

Oh crud? Yep, censored. Those who know me can fill in the appropriate crudity.

As opposed to crudités, which are something different...

Anyway. Today's canape lack of post is kind of a repeat of yesterday. Had something to say, but busy with work. And if I don't want to stay here all day I'd better get back to it.

I will actually blog at some point, you know.

Um, but not tomorrow since I won't be near a computer.

Gotta go now.







Oh, today's pointless photo. Random. It's been sitting on my nerdstick for a while. Ever since Molecule Building Day, in fact. For those dying to know (clockwise from bottom left): Acetonitrile, Neopentane, Cyclopropane, and 1,1 Bromochloroethane. And no, I don't remember any of that stuff anymore. I had to look it up. It's been (sigh) a quarter of a century now since I studied it, so I think that I'm allowed.

Definitely gotta go now.

One of those days...

I hate it when I actually have an idea for a post (Whomever knows, it happens so rarely) and then have to face the fact that I don't have time for it because I should be working at work.

What a concept.

I've had one of those mornings where things have been getting done, but unfortunately none of the things that have been getting done are the ones I was planning to get done.

Ah well. One less actual post here probably won't even be noticed, considering how little I've been posting lately. We'll try for more blather tomorrow, but since I'm supposed to be working at work then too I don't know how successful I'll be.

Erm... make whatever sense you can out of that last bit. Oh, and enjoy the continuing series of not-recent photos. At least they keep the usual pointless theme going.



Later.

It's too cold for Wheat to be in shorts

It's cold, I'm grumpy, and my office mate is in shorts. Didn't change into shorts here at work, no. He showed up in shorts. And apparently shovelled his walk in shorts before he left his house.

Sometimes I wonder about that man. And then I remember that I'm too grumpy about being cold to spend too much time wondering about Wheat's shorts, and after that I post a photo of spring flowers because at least they aren't snow.

That, and because I haven't taken too many photos lately.

There's a slightly sad reason for that, and it's not all because of the cold (or Wheat's shorts). No, the real slightly sad reason is that I think I might be saying goodbye to my trusty camera soon.

Sigh.

It's started having electronic brain farts, you see. Or I suppose you could translate that more politely as it's having reboot problems. I turn it on, the lens tube extends, the lens tube closes back up, and the camera says to try turning it off and on again. Lately that doesn't really work, so I have to take the batteries out for a while until it resets itself.

As I've said probably too many times here before, Lather, rinse, repeat.

I actually really am going to be slightly sad to see the camera go. Sure, it's getting on a bit and newer cameras have fancier features (aaand this might be a good excuse to save my pennies for a DSLR...), but there's been some things about the camera that I've definitely liked. It's shaped well to hold one-handed, for example, and since I'm very fiercely left-handed and cameras are always built right-handed (they are, you know), having a good grip is important to someone who's using her non-dominant hand to operate the thing. One of the other things I've liked, and this will probably surprise the bigger-is-better crowd, is that it's only a 3 meg camera. Let's face it, I'm never going to make a poster from any of my shots. They're almost entirely for use on a very silly blog, and I appreciate that I'm not needlessly using up my storage space with them.

And yes, I do realise that most cameras can allow you to save things in a smaller format than 10 or 14 meg (does anyone out there really need 14 meg pictures? Really?). It's just been nice that I haven't had to fiddle with that stuff, that's all.

Ah well. All electronics die eventually, and I'm sure that whatever I end up with will have its good points. And a bigger screen. And need a bigger memory card, which at least is a cheap thing to get compared to when I bought one for the current camera. It's just a little too bad to see it go, that's all.



It does, however, give me a very reasonable excuse for the lack of SNOW pictures on the blog.

Maybe I shouldn't get a new camera until next spring?

Neglectoblog

I've been very lazy about blogging lately, but then my two fans (if I have any two fans left at this point) have no doubt noticed that already. I could have blogged -- I was around -- but I just couldn't be bothered. Add that to the lack of recent photos (the decidedly winterish tone of the great outdoors isn't exactly inspiring) and the fact that at the moment my neck is out juuust enough to make my shoulder sore and the shoulder's owner cranky, and it's not looking great for a lucid blather today, either.

So... um. What's been up with me, lately?

Not too much. I had a birthday which I didn't celebrate, my father had a birthday (no idea on the celebration or lack of same there), and this weekend we finally got around to giving each other our presents. I got a slow cooker and he got an RC helicopter. Well, two helicopters, actually, because I hadn't realised that someone else gave him one too. Ah well, maybe he can have battles with himself.

I did actually want the slow cooker, by the way. I make a decent pulled pork, but the cheap vacuum cleaner salesman free gift crock pot I'd been using is a little on the small side for most recipes. I'd been having overflow issues. Now, though, I officially have a grown-up digital "multipot" (whatever with the mulitpot rebranding, by the way. It's still a slow cooker). I'm not sure why a slow cooker needs to be digital, but I suppose that it'll save me looking at the clock every few hours.

We all know how taxing that can be, having to tell time and everything.

And with that, I'm going to call it a post. Yes, seriously. I just feel like I'm already done typing, so I'm going with that feeling. Besides, it's probably time to go up stairs and watch dad divebomb the cat. With the helicopter, I mean. Last time I checked he wasn't into divebombing the cat without a helicopter...

Oh, relax. He doesn't really aim for the cat. The cat just gets curious enough to be in the way sometimes, that's all. Cats are silly like that. Or at least Max is.

Real

Still no new photos, since I've been holed up in my apartment for the last few days. To use the internet meme form (sigh), Stupid Weather is Stupid.

Have a frogsicle instead, then. That'd be a picture of a frozen Wood Frog. I did it for work. And why would I be drawing dead frogs for work? Well, that's the cool thing. Frozen Wood Frogs aren't, as a rule, dead. They freeze for the winter, and are one of only about five frog species that can do that.

And now you know. Shall we move on?

----------

While I was housebound I spent what might seem to be an inordinate amount of time trying on my jewellery, such as it is. Now, before anyone out there gets a mental picture of a crazy old bat playing dress up and pretending to go to the ball, I'll defend my sanity by saying that I was just trying to figure out what amongst my weird stash was actually worth wearing. You know, putting X pendant on Y chain and wearing it around the apartment for a while to see if it would drive me nuts if I wore it that way during a work day. Lather, rinse, repeat.

One thing I've noticed, and am noticing increasingly as I get older, is how much I prefer real over fake. And it doesn't even have to be expensive real, for those who are now humming Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend to themselves. Nothing I own qualifies as expensive, and it would probably freak me out if it did. No, what I'm meaning is that I'm happy wearing a cheap something (the silver ring I wear every day on my pinkie was five dollars, for pity's sake) as long as I know that it's genuine.

Give me a piece of cheap jasper over the finest simulated diamond any day. Sure, the diamonelle (or diamonette or cubic zirconia or whatever) is more sparkly, but the jasper has a... I dunno, a trueness to it somehow. I'm not a crystal and aura type person (no offense to any of you who are), but I definitely feel happier wearing an actual rock than I do wearing something that's pretending to be one.

And yes, I spent waaay too long sniggering at the shopping channel's diamonelle marathon the other day. No matter how much you talk it up, ladies, it's still going to be tacky fake jewellery that I'd be a bit embarrassed to be seen in.

  Maybe I'm just not a glittery kind of girl, but I find the so-called semiprecious stones more interesting to wear anyway. They've got more character.

The "real" aspect extends to metals as well, but maybe not in the way that you might expect. I prefer silver over gold mostly because it looks better on my skin tone. Lucky for me, then, that it's also cheaper, right? Naturally, I'll wear gold as well. I don't have a lot, but what I have gets used. After that, though, is where things admittedly get a little odd. I honestly don't mind wearing other metals... as long as they're not pretending to be anything else. A few years ago my uncle gave me a stainless steel bracelet because it was a bit of a fashion then. Cool. Stainless steel that's not pretending to be anything other than stainless steel? We're good. Just be honest, metal. That's all I'm asking. Be honest, be yourself, and don't be incredibly ugly.

AND DON'T BE GOLDTONE.

Gah. Goldtone. Or gold plated silver. Just be silver, silver. No need to wear a gaudy gold coat that's just going to make you look like fake gold instead of real silver.

Geez, I've been typing for a long time. A long, very interrupted time. I really need to cut this off and get back to work things.

Like frozen frogs.



Frozen frogs never wear goldtone, you know. Just goes to show that nature is smarter than us in a lot of ways...

It's too early

I have no recent photos.

There are a couple of reasons for this, but the main reason is that when I look out the window right now I see white (well, ok, and some puffed-up birds in the bushes looking kind of peeved). White depresses me.

It's too early.

It's too early for me to be scanning the road reports (Um, Dad? Probably not coming down the highway this weekend). It's too early for me to be adding in scrape-the-windows time to my work commute (which, granted, is only about six minutes in good conditions. But still). And most importantly,

IT'S TOO EARLY FOR THE WEEKEND LOW TEMPERATURES TO BE BELOW -20C.

 Yes, I said -20C.

First full week of November.

That, my friends, just sucks.

Oh, and for any of my two fans of the American persuasion: Celsius - Fahrenheit conversions. Sorry, but I'm just too lazy to do it for you today.

Which brings me to: it's also too early for me to be thinking about hibernation. I can't go outside in those kinds of temperatures at the best of times (that is, when my stupid allergic to cold body has had weeks, if not months, to acclimatise), and this certainly isn't the best of times as far as all of that is concerned. Frankly, it'll be tough enough for me to get in to work at -12C tomorrow.

Keep that in mind if I don't seem to be here tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next day...





Sigh. Look, I know that in the scheme of things (hellooo Hurricane Sandy survivors and what you're dealing with) this is a fairly low number on the Scale of Suckage. I'm not so self-absorbed as to thing that there aren't far worse things. But all these it's too earlys add up to the possibility of a very long winter, and the prospect isn't the best thing for my mental health.

Which, by the way, had been pretty good earlier in the week. Do you suppose that pissed off the planet in some way? I'll fix you, honey. Let it snow let it snow let it snow...

Ah well. What can you do but whinge and dig out? Blogging may be pretty sparse in the next few days, but then you're getting used to that by now.

Back to work for me...

Loud

Sorry, no pointless photo today. It's getting late, I'm leaving soon, and the roads are probably crap (although not nearly as bad as elsewhere -- thank you Delay of Storm), so I'm not in the mood to play nerdstick games. Especially since I have nothing recent.

Anyway. Topic.

I'm loud.

Not all the time, obviously, but when I need to I can easily be loud. I can overpower an entire class when I'm out in the field. I do one program where I send the kids out into other areas of the building to look for things, and when I call them back I can be heard all the way to the offices. In my line of work, it's handy to be loud.

I sometimes forget that not everyone is loud.

Or can be loud, I guess.

We were having a conversation in the hallway this morning and at one point I said something silly that got loud (it would make sense if you'd heard the topic). My boss turned to me and said that only a trained voice could do that without hurting.

Really?

I mean, it wasn't really even that loud. Comparatively speaking, that is.

So is it actually hard to be loud? Does it hurt to be loud? I mean physically hurt. I've never felt that, to be honest.

I've always told people that it's because of years of singing training and that may be true, but maybe it's just how I'm built. It just sort of boggles me that it's somehow a special thing, that's all, since I can't imagine not being able to be loud.

I wonder how that's shaped me, you know? Just like being nearsighted has shaped me and being left-handed has shaped me and being short has shaped me. Being loud had to have made some difference, don't you think?




Gee, I'm making myself sound attractive, aren't I? Nearsighted, left-handed, short, and LOUD.

Won't you be my neighbour?



Gottat shut down now. That damned snow is really coming down.

Stupid winter.

Buggery

No, not that. I got your attention though, didn't I? And I'll be curious to see what kind of attention that it'll bring from random search engines.

I get an unreasonable kick from that sort of thing, I'll admit. I do check to see what weird search terms have brought people to my blogs. It's one of the few things I miss from the old Blogger banner ads these blogs all used to have, too. It used to amuse the heck out of me to see what random terms the Google ad engine would choose for its "targeted" ads. Don't even ask me how I ended up with an ad for Mein Kampf showing up for a week...

Incidentally, I hope you've noticed that I don't miss the targeted ads enough to sign up for Adsense or anything like that. Although it might fit, considering that ads on this blog would be well and truly pointless.

Um, anyway. That's not why you came.

The reason for the misleading title is that we're dealing with a few bugs at work today. Not of the variety featured in today's pointless photo (which is, after all, a beetle rather than a bug), but of the technological type.

We just got a new phone system.

Fuuun, right?

Figuring out the new system should be ok, once we have all the programming down. Should be ok, I hope. We have a lot of volunteers that run the front desk, though, and since they're each here just once a week that equals a full week's worth of trying to train people on a new system. And there are, of course, a few programming glitches as well. I called my father and asked him to call me back just to see if the Call Display worked properly. Well... after watching the line number light up, then the front desk line light up, then a momentary green light on my line (with no ring) that changed to red before I could pick it up and sent him straight to the voice mail box that I hadn't had a chance to set up yet, I can officially tell you that my voice mail light works.

The rest of the system apparently needs a bit of tweaking.

Ah well, if you occasionally try to get me at work and I seem to be non-existent, bear with us. We'll get it figured out.



Stay tuned to find out how they screw up our wifi...

Yeah, that weird thing

... is on the wall of the gallery here at work.

It's our annual staff show.

I did a painting.

Or I guess three paintings.

I might not have hung them this spread out, but it works so I don't mind.

My mind minds that it's on the wall at all, but you've been hearing about that already. If you want to hear more for some reason, check the other blog. It's linked on the sidebar. I talked (or typed, I guess) too much over there already and I need to get back to work, so check there for more angst.

I'm such a neurotic freak.

Well, that was odd

I just did something that I don't think I've ever done before in my life.

I ordered a couple of new sketchbooks.

I can't express to you how weird that is.

All my adult life I've started sketchbooks, got a page or two in, and that was that. And here I am reordering, all of a sudden? Weird.

I should explain a bit, I guess. When I say all my adult life, I'm only talking about two or three sketchbooks. I've never been very good at sketchbooks. Oh, I start out with the best of intentions -- you know, trying to keep things loose, not caring if things are exactly what I'd hoped, reminding myself that I'm doing this for practice and not for show -- but it never seems to take long before my OLF self gets dissatisfied and starts to get all perfectionist. That's never a good thing with sketchbooks, because if you start wanting to make the sketchbook perfect and it isn't you soon find yourself not wanting to open the sketchbook at all.

There's also the problem of paper. I've mentioned this before, but I'm a very tactile person when it comes to playing with art stuff, and for me one of the worst sins a sketchbook can commit is having boring paper. Case in point? My field sketchbook, which is currently being cannibalised bit by bit for other projects. I was full of enthusiasm when I started because I'd never really done much field sketching, and to be fair I did end up doing a little. The paper in the book, though, was sooo boooring that I found myself doodling on anything BUT the sketchbook when I went outside on the trails.

So, yeah. Between perfectionism and boredom, sketchbooks have never gone all that well for me. So can anybody explain to me, then, why I only have one page left in my watercolour sketchbook and three in my pocket sketchbook? What, exactly, changed?

I suppose pocket sketchbook might be a clue. It's small. It's always in my purse, along with a set of Prismacolor pigment pens. It's no pressure to fill a page while I'm sitting around waiting for something. Plus (and this may be a big insight into my warped brain, I don't know), the first thing I did when I got it was doodle all over the inside covers to make sure that it wasn't pristine. There, weirdo. Just try to make this perfect. It's already not perfect, and you can't change that. Pressure's off.

Yeah, yeah, I know. But you do what you have to, I guess.

The watercolour book is a little harder to fathom, because I'm most emphatically not a painter. I don't have the foggiest clue what I'm doing when it comes to painting. Getting a watercolour book to begin with was a leap of... I was going to say faith, but stupidity might be a better word. How have I managed to finish a book? Plodding along, mostly. And it became a place to experiment. That's what it was supposed to be, really, but this is the first time that something like this has worked out that way for me. Not everything in the book is great (in fact, most of the book is pretty awful), but even I have to admit that there are a couple or three things that I'd save if I decided to take the book apart.

Ah, now there's a question. Will the finished books stay intact, or will I rip them to pieces? Honestly, I don't know. I've never finished one sketchbook before, let alone two. The pocket book will likely stay together (whether I keep it or chuck it is the question there) because I've drawn across the fold each time so it's pretty much impossible to remove those doodles. The watercolour book, though. Actually, there's at least one thing in there that I might consider framing.

Yes, framing a watercolour. Done by me. Told you this was odd.

Anyway. I've made my online order since it's cheaper to get what's apparently become my book of choice that way (and might I just say here, rather theatrically, DAAAMN YOU MOLESKINE! I so desperately wanted to not like the first moleskine I bought because they're comparatively expensive and I didn't want to get sucked in by the hype, but... sigh. Paper, did I mention? And it's amazing how important a simple piece of elastic can be), and in a little while I will actually be starting new sketchbooks because my old ones are finished.



I don't know who I am anymore.

Pointless photo - I forgot to blog version - of the day:

I really need to take some new photos. It's going to be a hard sell, though: my two fans know how much I love winter, and everything out there already looks like winter thanks to this week's snowfall. Ah well, it could be much, much, worse. To all those who are currently bracing themselves for Frankenstorm, I can't even imagine what you must be going through.

Got a late start to my day, for some reason. Oh, I was awake at the usual time (for those new to the program, that would be stupid o'clock in the morning), but after I got up and went to the bathroom I went back to bed and more or less just sat there until eight. That's weird for me, to just stay in bed doing nothing but thinking. I did service the cat at one point, of course (you can't stay in bed that long without having to service the cat), but other than that there was no reason to suddenly look at the clock and realise that on a normal Saturday I'd already have the laundry started by that time.

Ah well. No harm to it. And what was I thinking about? Lots of things (that's a lot of time to just be in the bed thinking), but nothing really worth blogging about.

So what's the topic of the day, then? Damned if I know. I suppose we could talk phones for a few minutes before my stomach decides that lunch has been delayed too long already.

I've been doing a bit of phone shopping this morning, believe it or not. I say believe it or not because most of you know by now that I'm still wandering around with the same five (or probably closer to six by now) year old cell phone while the smartphone world passes me by. There are a few reasons for this; number one being that I'm currently not on contract with my provider, and I want to make sure that I know what I want before I sign on with anyone else (or even the same provider, for that matter). Number two would be that my cell phone is my only phone, and my trusty old Motorola has been extremely dependable. I'm a little leery of giving that up for the world of flashy-but-how-often-will-I-break-it touchscreens. Still, I have to admit that with the way the world is working these days I miss having a phone that does more than phone, text, and take really crappy low-quality pictures.

At the same time, I'm a bit worried about the phone part of the phone. My current phone is a phone first. From what I've heard of the sound quality of calls from some of my smartphone-using friends, a lot of smartphones aren't. That would be a problem for someone without a land line, you know.

Well, we'll see. Maybe I'll do a bit of handset browsing at Compare Cellular later (handy site, that, by the way) to check the reviews. It'll help a bit. In the meantime, lunch really is beckoning. This counts as a post, right? I'm trying my best to ease back into the blather...

Oops

Had the work camera out for something else. Totally forgot to take a picture of Alan the pumpkin. Everything's put away again now. Sorry, Alan. Lost your chance to shine again.

I'm probably not going to be terribly blatherful today (what? Already? Oh, keep reading. There's an excuse). The fact is, I'm not feeling all that wonderful, and it's my fault. Or work's fault. Maybe we can split the difference?

I was outside on the trails for a bit this morning with the camera looking for blogworthy things to take photos of (which subset, apparently, doesn't include pumpkins on desks). We've been a little lax on blogging for work these days because twitter is so much faster, and I thought I'd better do something about that. The problem is, with the windchill it was about -10C or so out there while I was walking.

And all the true Canadians out there are now saying So what.

And all the people with cold-induced urticaria out there are now saying Geez. Are you ok?

See, the problem with being allergic to the cold is that early season is tough. Your body's had no chance at all to acclimatise, and any reaction you have is going be sooner and more severe than it might be later on in the winter. So, yeah. By the time I got back I could tell I'd reacted, and by the time I got back into the office I was puffy. Um, I should say at this point that for me, anyway, the full rash doesn't come out until I start warming up. It wasn't horrible today, but it was enough that I currently have the lousy feeling I generally get when I'm coming off a reaction.

Yay bodily stupidity.

And yay stupid people who decide to go out for a walk when they know they really shouldn't.

Even if it was for work.





Yay work.
Yay cold.
Yay stop typing...

Ah, the perils of having time to blog

Yes, I know that I promised a picture of Alan the Pumpkin (who's now, apparently, Alan the Door Prize. Long story), but to be honest I'm not in the mood to get the camera out. Or, more to the point, to edit a photo of a pumpkin sitting on my desk. Maybe tomorrow.

----------

So. I've been either not blogging or saying that I don't have time to blog for well over a week now. I have time today.

So what do I blather about, then?

That amount of non-blather time can lead to an embarrassment of riches... or at least of things that I haven't told you about. The problem is, nothing's really leaping out and saying Me! Me! I want to be the subject of your first real blog post in aaages!

Figures, doesn't it?

All right, why don't I just start typing about random things from yesterday and see where it goes.

Yesterday = snow, first of all. Our first serious, sticking snowfall of the season (too fricking early, too). And that, as usual, means that half of the people in this city forget where they left their brains as soon as they hit the roads.

Man, people are stupid when it comes to winter driving; especially when you consider how much winter we generally get here. Case in point? A truck drove through the window of a local music store. He had no choice, though, because he'd been driving in the left lane when an idiot in the centre lane decided to turn left IN FRONT OF HIM. Dumb move in the best of conditions, but the streets were slick and there wasn't much else the truck driver could do but hit the store. He hit the idiot driver, too, but not as badly as he might have otherwise.

I think that they need to add IQ tests to driver's tests.

I had two personal examples of winter driving stupidity to contend with myself, and if you figured that number with the population of drivers in the city the amount of potential idiocracry is truly astounding. Hey, teacher at the school next to us. When the roads are slippery you don't barrel out of your parking lot, suddenly remember that other people use the road, slam on your brakes, and slide halfway into the street and nearly into the car (that'd be my car) that is coming. Hey, idiot pick-up driver (and we all know my feelings about idiots in trucks already). When I am finally trying to make a left turn as the light turns amber (after waiting several lights in the turn lane because the roads are too iffy for people to be able to sneak a turn into the usual space in traffic) and you're more than half a block away from the intersection, YOU STOP. You don't just merrily drive through and wave at me as you assume that I might -- might -- be able to stop my car so that I don't hit you. I wasn't doing you a favour by stopping mid-turn. I was trying not to be killed.

Gah.

They're both just lucky that I have decent tires and a car that knows what to do in winter. Um, well, the driver does too, of course, but let me tell you that I'm very much in danger of falling in love with traction control. This is the first car I've had it in, and I wouldn't have believed that it makes that much of a difference. Thanks, Huff.



Hmm. Me being po'd at winter drivers just turned into a post. Who'd'a thunk?

I guess that means that I should go back to work now, though. Oh, quick art update first. I finished my canvasses last night. They're... different. Now I just have to work up the courage to bring them in for the staff art show. That's going to take a bit of doing. They're different, did I mention? I'm not always that comfortable with different.

I bet my two fans hadn't noticed.

Pointless photo of the day:

Definitely not taken today, because if it was it would be of snow, not of a ladybird.

Sigh.

Ah well. Need to go set up for a program now. For any of my two fans who were wondering about the fate of Alan the Pumpkin (and I'm sure you were), it's currently sitting on my desk. Maybe he'll feature in tomorrow's pointless photo.

We'll see.





Bye now.

Pointless photo of the day:

Just to let you know that I'm still here.

Busy today and tomorrow -- maybe an actual post after that.

Pointless photo of the day:

Yes, yes, the blog has been somewhat lacking in content this past while.

I realise it.

I guess I just don't have any bees in my bonnet at the moment. Or I'm getting lazy. Or... something.

I suppose it could be partly the time of year, if I wanted to blame things on seasonality. The days are getting shorter, the view is getting blander, and the blog is getting boring.

Or maybe just the blogger.

I'm sounding much more down than I really am, I promise.





I sooo have nothing today, but I bet you'd already noticed that. Ah well, at least you got a pointless photo of one of my favourite things in the world. Yes, I like grape leaves even when they're dead. They twist into such interesting shapes, you see.

Um, and with that... I'll try harder to be blathery tomorrow? Well, we'll see.

Ah, the lack of blatherage

I'd say I'm sorry for the recent silence, but as I said not that long ago, I'm really not anymore. Better an empty blog than a lengthy whinge about the weather or my lack of sleep or my screwed up digestion or... well, anything that you've already heard too much of, to be honest.

Not even the fact that my three primary canvasses still have nothing on them but primary colours. Man, when I get blocked I get blocked. I mean, I even know what I want to do to finish those canvasses and it shouldn't be too hard, but they're still just sitting there. Ah well, maybe tonight I'll get out my lamp and do something about it.

Have I ever told you about my lamp, she says knowing full well that this is now going to become her post topic even though there's almost nothing to say about a lamp? I have a drawing lamp. Not a swing arm type lamp that I'd attach to my non-existent drafting table or anything exciting like that, but a stand lamp that I use for drawing. My apartment has crappy circa-1970 lighting (as do most crappy circa-1970 apartments, really), and it didn't take too long after I moved in to realise that if I wanted to do anything arty in the six months of the year when the sun goes down at stupid early in the day, I'd need a lamp.

So I went to Wally World and bought myself a floor lamp. I think it cost me twenty bucks, if that. It's one of those three-headed dealies (like this, but think mondo cheap) that I don't think you'd ever want to use for general room lighting, because unless you put the weakest bulbs in the world in it the glare would be absolutely unsettling. Not mood lighting, for sure. In fact, even with my apartment's virtual darkness I never even have the lamp plugged in unless I'm using it for drawing.

So why would I even want a harsh lamp, then? Especially for art? Well, it does have the advantage of having adjustable heads that I can angle to make interesting shadows, so it's actually kind of handy for still lifes. Or plants, which is what I'd use it more for. Time was, to get myself through the winter blahs I'd buy myself a cheap bouquet or flowering plant, set it on my table, and then just draw it every night as it changed and withered (well, not so much the live plants. I'd try to keep them going for a while, naturally). It always made for an interesting exercise in shape and shadow, the contortions flowers would go through before they gave up and dropped petal entirely.

It was good practice. I should start doing it again this winter.

Incidentally, a few years ago when my bathroom light switch broke and the managers took three months (no, I'm not kidding) to get someone in to fix it, the only way I could light the bathroom was by plugging the drawing lamp into an extension cord and parking it in the doorway (the cord wouldn't reach any further). Fun times, paying rent for service like that.

Does this win for Most Useless Post Ever yet? It's got to be getting close.



Aaanyway, I should be getting back to work. As a measure of how much social media has changed my job, work today for me partly involves tweeting about stuff coming in for a swap meet. No, I'm not kidding. Check the work feed, for which I've never given you a link...

Pointless photo of the day:

And that's all you're getting, since my head really isn't into it today.

Oh, and by the way? It is way too early in the season to be having such crappy weather. If I'd taken today's featured photo this morning, the grapes would have all been wearing toques...

Chapter 1652: Wherein... Deer!

Yes, the pointless photo isn't of a deer. I do know the difference between a deer and a ladybird beetle. I just didn't have the camera out when the deer were in the yard this morning.

It was mule deer again as usual. A couple of them, from what I could see. It's the first chance I've had to see deer in the yard this season. They've probably been here before, of course, but from a combination of me not coming home to visit my father for a couple (hmmm... three, actually) of weekends and the fact that noticing the deer involves accidentally looking out of one of the bedroom windows at exactly the right time, this became the first sighting of the fall for me. We don't see the deer much in the summer time because they have plenty of other sources of food, but come the fall and winter they start hanging out in the neighbourhood a fair bit.

I'll probably be seeing a lot of deer between now and the spring.

I admit it -- I still geek out over the deer. I see them at least a few times over the course of the winter, and I still get excited. I work at a nature centre where deer and moose are by no means uncommon, but I'll still run to the window if I see one go past the office.

I'm not the only one.

I'm not entirely sure what it is (I know that for me at least the whole Bambi thing doesn't enter play. That's not how I see nature), but there's something about the fact that such large mammals are still around in urban environments that's somehow thrilling. Maybe it's a sign that we haven't  (yet) screwed things up so much that they're gone. Maybe it's a feeling that we're not as disconnected from the natural world as we generally think we are.

Maybe it's just that seeing a deer is neat. I dunno.

I was reading (well, skimming) an article the other day that said that large predators like coyotes were on the rise in urban areas. The article's headline, at least, made it sound like some invasion that we should be wary of. Why? In many ways, the presence of large predators indicates the health of a system. Large predators need prey. Prey need food. Without food for the prey and prey for the predators, large predators disappear. And if it so happens that an urban area can support large predators, that's... it's cool, dammit.

And if it so happens that large predators are living on stray cats and dogs and that bothers you, then do something about making sure that there are less stray cats and dogs.

Anyone want to start singing The Circle of Life with me right about now? Um, on second thought, no. And I'm so not linking to that. Find it yourself if you want that song in your head all day.



Aaanyway. There were deer in the garden this morning. I was glad. I was glad even though they eat plants that I'd rather see survive the winter. I'm good that way, though. Plants vs deer? Ok, I'll allow the loss of a few plants if it means I can tell Dad that there are deer in the back as I'm getting dressed in the morning.

Wouldn't you?

----------

I've realised that I have a new pet peeve. I realised it as I sat here eating leftover turkey with crackers for breakfast this morning. The pet peeve isn't turkey, however, despite what you might be thinking now. I definitely approve of turkey. What I don't approve of is Canadian Thanksgiving.

Sorry, let me change the emphasis there: Canadian Thanksgiving.

Why do we Canadians say Canadian Thanksgiving? It's Thanksgiving. Here in Canada. Do we really need to spell it out? Oh sure, we're just differentiating it from American Thanksgiving, which is later (and, as usual, louder), but unless you're explaining that to a group of Americans do you really have to say Canadian Thanksgiving?

Interesting fact, by the way (according to the internet, anyway, so take it with the usual grain of salt. Or bucket of salt, as needed): First American Thanksgiving? 1621, by the Pilgrims. First Canadian Thanksgiving? 1578, by Martin Frobisher. Yes, Frobisher as in Bay.

For non-Canadians, I'll leave you to look that one up. For Canadians, too, considering how good we generally are at celebrating or even remembering our own history.

I suppose I've just read a few too many Canada-based blogs saying Happy Canadian Thanksgiving this morning, but it started to get annoying. It's so stereotypically Canadian apologetic, after all. Hi everyone, we're having Thanksgiving. I know it doesn't seem like the right time to be having Thanksgiving, but I guess that's how we do it up here in Canada. It's Canadian Thanksgiving. Sorry that it's not the same as yours...

Ah well. For those of you in the States who still have a ways to go before your pumpkin pie, I will tell you that there's one distinct advantage to having an earlier Thanksgiving: avoiding holiday overload. I don't know how you folks do it, to be honest. To go from a big family holiday straight into the hassle of shopping for another big family holiday? My head would explode.





Good lord. I've just looked at how long this post is. Maybe I was trying to make up for the lack of post tomorrow, since I won't be near a computer? Let's just go with that. I'll see you in a couple of days.

In the meantime, Happy Thanksgiving.

That's right, just Thanksgiving.



Dammit.

Again.

Pointless frustration of the day:

Some stupid woman needs to remember to wear a smock while painting. Pulled one of my shirts out of the washer this morning and surprise! Speckles of red, blue, and yellow. I mean, sure, it was just a tank that I'd been using as a pyjama top, but still. Primaries on Lime Green Tank Top will NOT be entered in the staff art show.

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Not-so-big points to anyone who guessed that today's pointless photo isn't a recent one. Good luck finding anything flowering in the yard at the moment. We had a couple of hard frosts this past week, and as a result I'm going to have trouble finding even colourful leaves to take photos of this afternoon. Yep, we've already entered the wonderfully dull days of autumn around here, boys and girls. Not that our leaf-colour season is terribly brilliant in this area (our forests are mostly aspen and balsam poplar, so the colours of fall that I grew up with were yellow, yellow, and hey isn't that more yellow?), but it looks like even that will be done with pretty abruptly.

It makes it hard for me to be terribly enthusiastic about autumn yard photography, to be honest. I'd better get at least a little in, though, because as my two fans know I'm even less enthusiastic about winter shots. And that leads to very weird and unbelievably pointless indoor shots, as you'll (sigh) soon enough notice.

On the actually fall-colourful side, good news about Alan the Pumpkin. No sign of bottom softness so far, and it's starting to orange up. Right now it's in that awkward teenage stage where the orange bits on the green look suspiciously like pumpkin acne, but it's getting there.

I suppose I should take a picture of Alan. That'd give me something different from the pointless leftover spring photos currently residing on my nerdstick, at any rate. I should also make sure that I take the shot just as it is now: a mostly green pumpkin sitting on an ugly pink scrap towel in one of those metal fruit basket things you get chocolates and mini jams in at Christmas. Alan's a true decorator's dream, you know.

Oh, and for anyone who just reread the post I linked to above, I still haven't talked to the pumpkin.

Yet.





Just changed laundry loads and completely lost what little train of thought that I had, so I guess I'll call it a post right here. A post about laundry and colours and a pumpkin.

You're an absolute blogging wizard, Dee.

Pointless question of the day:

If I paint one canvas red, another blue, and a third yellow, can I call it art?

It could be Primarily Effective, maybe. Or Primarily Subjective.

Or, considering this blog, Primarily Pointless...



Yeah, in case you'd forgotten (or in case you follow the other blog and have wondered why it's sooo active lately), the upcoming staff art show here has, as usual, got me completely blocked. Knowing that my stuff might be on display is hard enough. Knowing that anything I get accomplished in the next month is VERY LIKELY to be on display? Totally keeps me from doing anything.

I've had things on display here before (here being the art gallery at work, of course). More than once. I haven't got used to it.

Or comfortable with it, obviously.

This year's show starts at the end of this month, so I still have time. I even have a couple of ideas. What I don't have, though, is the will to really start anything. I'm a doodler, ferpityssake. I don't ever take my things seriously. Putting them on display, though, necessarily indicates that you're serious enough about things to want people to see them.

That freaks me out.

Every single time this comes up, it freaks me out.




Yeah, I'm such an artist. That's why I found myself painting canvasses at nine o'clock last night. One red, one blue, and one yellow.

I wasn't kidding about that question.

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I'd say I was sorry for unexpectedly disappearing this past week, but really I'm not. I've been blogging for a long time. Even though I deleted years' worth of posts when I switched the other blog to artsy things, it doesn't change the fact that I've been blogging for a long time. I sometimes -- well, often -- feel like I've been talking about the same three topics for most of my internet life, even if the posts are long gone. I occasionally feel like you need a break from it, and I know that I do. It used to be that I'd force myself to blog anyway at times like that, but I've reached the point of screw it, to be honest (and anyone who knows me in person is welcome to uncensor screw it in the appropriate way). If I feel like disappearing, then I disappear.

Um, so there. That was a bit more emphatic than I was intending, but you get the point. It's not a pumpkin-worthy point, but it's there nonetheless. And that means?

Just time for me to get back to work, really. Type at you later.

Maybe in red. Or blue. Or yellow...