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.

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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?

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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...