Pointless Blather Blog

Things I've been doing today instead of posting:

2012-02-02T11:55:00.000-07:00

1. Trying to figure out what to do with a group of jiffers.

2. Eating wasabi peas.

3. Cleaning out my sinuses (see above).

4. Watching Wheat's slanted commuting video. Literally slanted, not politically slanted. Although, since he's on a bike in winter some may find a political slant of some sort implied, I suppose.

5. Looking for something to tweet in regards to World Wetlands Day (which is, in my opinion, inherently much more important than some pointless groundhog something or other).

6. Buying muffin tops. Actually, that should be first on the list since I did it on the way to work. I'm too lazy to redo the list, though. And what are muffin tops? The best part of the muffin, of course.

7. Eating a mayonnaise and mustard sandwich with occasional pieces of chicken and lettuce. I think the store deli overdid it a bit on the dressing today. Serves me right for being too lazy to make my own lunch, though.

8. Getting ready for this afternoon's program. Or I will be, once I'm done typing this nonsense.

9. Answering texts. They were work-related, however. No, seriously. They actually were. Office procedures have changed a fair bit since I first started here, now that I think of it.

Doesn't sound like much of a morning, now that I've put it in writing. Ah well. Back to the (apparently) non-grind for me, then. Oh, and for you fans of Dirty Moe? My father tells me that it's no longer a part of my life, for which my bank balance is thankful. Or will be, when I get the chance to go in and pick up the cash...

Should Dirty Moe be getting a better requiem than that, do you think? Is anyone feeling nostalgic, all of a sudden? Then maybe I should remind you that IT'S A CAR. And a car that's been sitting in my father's driveway for far too long now. I was beginning to think that we wouldn't get rid of it until spring, but I'm happy to be wrong this time around.

So.

Um, yeah. Done typing now, it seems.

Pointless photo of the day:

2012-02-01T12:59:00.002-07:00

Yeah, I don't really have anything today. Well, I do have a headache because my neck's been kind of (more than kind of, but you don't want the gory details) screwed up the past couple of days. I don't need to blather about a headache, though. You've heard it often enough.

So... I guess that's it for today then, all right? All right with me, at any rate, and since I'm the one doing the typing...

New photo!

2012-01-29T11:42:00.000-07:00

Yes, as the fake excitement above indicates, I actually got around to taking a few new shots yesterday. Don't get too excited yourselves, though; the fact that most of them have the word dead somewhere in their file name should tell you that there's not a whole lot of excitement to be found in the yard at this time of year.

The cat's not dead, though.

And incidentally, was I the only one who didn't know that Black & Decker made cats?

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I don't have a whole lot today because I got yet another late start (must be something about this particular weekend) and have been spending my time with other things rather than thinking about blog posts. I'd never be able to do this for a living, thank goodness.

Why thank goodness?

Well, just imagine the pressure of having to think of things on a regular basis. Having to. It'd take any sort of fun out of it pretty darned quickly for me. I don't do well when my hobbies become necessities. I know I've said that before, but for those new to the program (and yes, I know that I've said that before, too. Many, many times. In case you haven't noticed, repeating stupid phrases tends to be my lazy attempt at having any kind of style here. Again, good thing I don't do this for a living), I work very hard to keep my hobbies as hobbies, because they seem to stop being fun as soon as they show any sign of being taken seriously. My piano hardly gets touched now because of too many years of teaching singing (that needs to change, though. I'm kind of missing playing piano now. I need to get back in the habit), my doodles will always stay doodles even if some people get sniffy at the term because I never want to take the chance of thinking about them as art, and my writing?

Is silly.

I can write better than this. I do write better than this. Heck, if you want to get all technical about it, I can say that I've written professionally. I've redesigned poorly-written text for a permanent exhibit at work because the "professional" they'd engaged buggered off and refused to do anything more about it when his work was deemed unsatisfactory. I edit our newsletter. I've won poetry competitions, believe it or not. I'm more than capable of stringing words together in ways that are readable, and can make people want to read them.

I'd sooner stay silly, I guess. I'd sooner put words that don't really matter on a blog that doesn't really matter in combination with pictures that don't really matter (and rarely have anything to do with the text). It's disposable. It's absurd, and I like absurd.

It's a hobby, and I want it to stay fun. I want it not to matter.

I suppose you would say that I lack passion, and you'd be right. I don't think I could ever claim to be truly passionate about anything. I like a lot of things, and there are a lot of things that have been able to keep me interested for a long time, but I've never discovered the one thing that made me say THAT'S what I want to do with my life.

Just as an aside, I accidentally ended up in the perfect career for someone like me. It's one of the few areas left where you have to be a jack-of-all-trades. Oh sure, there are naturalists out there who are absolute expert birders or trackers or survivalists or whatever, but for those of us in the day-to-day business of dealing with people in a more urban setting it's more important to have a little knowledge about a whole lot of things, and a lot of knowledge about where to find the information on what you don't know. That's me, right there.

Anyway. For not having anything to say I've managed to type out quite the diatribe here. I could tell you what's been going on in the back of my brain that brought this on, but at this point I think I'll save it for another time and then reexamine whether I even really want to talk about it.

And then I'll probably talk about play-doh or something instead.

Must keep the blog pointless, after all. Other wise it turns into a pumpkin. That's the rules.

Geez, is it that time already?

2012-01-28T12:07:00.001-07:00

Yes, yes, I'll try to get out and take some new photos this afternoon...

Sorry, I'm a bit testy. Got a late start to the day, which is sort of an unusual thing for me these days, and I don't think I've quite caught up yet. I couldn't believe it when I looked at the time just now and realised that I hadn't blogged yet. Now my thought process is somewhere between blog and lunch, and lunch seems to be getting the upper hand just now.

Read that as: this'll probably be short and useless. And I was going to say "kind of like the typist" here, but to be fair I'm not entirely useless.

I am sore today, though. Actually, I've been sore all week. Nothing serious, really; the usual always-achy ankle, the complainy knee, the wrist that occasionally acts up just to remind me that it's really stupid to lose your temper and act out like a three-year-old when you're supposed to be an adult setting up tables instead... I'm sure I've mentioned that act of stupidity on the blog before since most of my acts of stupidity have been re-acted many times here out of sheer lack of subject-matter, but here's the Coles Notes version for those of my two fans who may not have heard it: it was the morning of a fairly big event at work that I was coordinating, and I had to quickly get some things set up before my volunteers arrived so that they could get on with the bigger stuff. I arrived to find that a group meeting the night before -- a group of regulars who should have known better -- had left the rooms that I needed in absolute shambles, meaning that the little time I had was going to have to go to cleaning up instead of setting up. Of course I was pissed, but that didn't mean I had to go around cussing and slamming things as I worked, and I certainly didn't have to tip up that table that I needed to fold the legs on in such a violent manner, right? Yeah, my wrist would have appreciated my remembering that last part before I wrenched it so badly, I'm sure.

Ah well. Live and learn. And occasionally ache for years afterwards.

I sometimes think that I'm too young to have all these aches and pains, and then I remember that I'm not too young to have all these aches and pains, and then I'm sad.

Oh, not really. Or not much, anyway. And speaking of anyway, I think it genuinely is time for me to go upstairs and scout out something to eat. And then scout out something to take photos of. And then... um... fold the stuff in the dryer, I guess. And then maybe draw something for IF, if something actually comes to mind.

Yes, it's a massively full life I lead. Guess I should be grateful that it's not fuller.

I don't need any more aches.

What on earth is that thing in your hand?

2012-01-27T12:49:00.003-07:00

Still working out of the archives in regards to pointless photos,yes. I'll try to do something about that this weekend.

Oh, and if this seems slightly distracted at all, it's because I made the mistake of brushing my tongue this morning after having too hot (as in temperature, not spice) a supper last night, and now the silly thing is shedding its skin in a disturbingly reptilian fashion. TMI? Yeah, probably, but I'm the one who's dealing with tongue chunks rather than just hearing about them so I think you're probably in the better position.

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This morning when I got in to work I took a moment to download a new game onto my 3DS via the free wifi here, and it occurred to me that if I'd said "download a game onto my 3DS via the free wifi here" to myself what, ten? fifteen? years ago, I wouldn't have comprehended a bit of it. Game, maybe. I would have got that it had to do with a game of some sort.

When you step back and look at it, isn't that weird?

Our day-to-day world now wouldn't be at all comprehensible to our own past selves of a handful of years ago. That sort of blows me away, and I tend to think that it's one of the few times in history that it's happened. We forget, too. Because we're living in amongst the whole thing, we forget that less than ten years ago the idea that Japanese companies were putting cameras in cell phones seemed strange (and who would ever want a camera on their phone, anyway?). Our photocopier/printer at work is just barely old enough that it won't accept SD cards over 1G. Tragic, that. Hands up if you can remember when a 1G card seemed like it would last you forever, and it had better last forever because it was going to cost you an arm and a leg to get one. The first card I used in my camera? 64M, if I remember right. And I had to buy that one as a special purchase, because the one that came with it was only... oh, 16M or so.

And to think that a little while after I started working here I got brave enough to shell out the money for an electronic personal organiser (think: before Palm Pilots, even) with a staggering 64K of memory. I think I probably still have it somewhere. I should see if the museum wants it.

It all makes it sound like I'm ancient (and I'm sure that for some of my two fans, after reading this you're probably sure that I'm ancient), but I'm not. No, really. I'm not. It's just that things move so fast these days. So fast, in fact, that unless you keep staring straight ahead you lose your way in the newness. Look off to the side for a bit to enjoy a current technology, and before you know it you're three towns past your exit and the world is all using implanted wrist chips to pay for groceries, or something like that.

By the way, it totally won't surprise me if the implanted chip thing happens.

Ah well. None of this is implying judgment or anything. It just strikes me every once in a while that if I could stand outside of my own skin and be my eighteen-year-old self looking at my forty-two-year-old (yeah, I said it. Whatever. Forty's the new black, isn't it?) self now, I think I'd be fairly bewildered.

Hmm. By more than technology, no doubt, but let's leave some of the other stuff for another post. I'm still in the middle of a work day, after all. Let me just readjust the Sanctuary Hologram so that our visitors can get back to watching the animatronic birds...

Stupid annoying work things

2012-01-26T13:20:00.002-07:00

Grape leaves aren't stupid annoying work things, if you wondered. I just really need to take some new photos at some point.

So, stupid annoying work things, otherwise known as I Still Haven't Thought of a Topic, So Let's Just Go With What's In Front of Me. Before I get into this, I should make the point that I do like my job. A lot. I've been doing it for twenty years now, after all, and my love of inertia isn't so vast that I wouldn't have found something else to do if this job sucked.

There are always annoyances, though. Any job has them. They're stupid annoyances (in my mind, anyway) both because they could be so easily fixed and because it's probably stupid of me to get annoyed by them. It's a problem on both my and my coworkers' parts, is what I'm saying.

Enough preamble? Let's begin.

Annoying work thing #1: Photocopier stupidity. We have a couple of people who regularly leave the... hmm... what's it called? The top cover-thingy? Document feeder? That'll do; you know what I mean. The thing that covers the platen. It bugs me when people leave it up. Isn't that just an invitation for the platen to get all dusty (and since no one seems to think to clean it... ah yes, another stupid photocopier thing)? Besides, it takes less than a second to put the thing down after you've lifted it, right? And let me add to this section the practice -- normally female, unfortunately -- of opening a ream of paper and just putting a few sheets in the tray so that someone else can refill it later. The trays are designed to hold a full ream, people. And if you think you can't fan a full ream? Well, for pity's sake. I have incredibly small hands and I can manage it. Just put the blasted thing on the table and do it that way. Sheesh.

Annoying work thing #2: Leaving random things on my desk. I'm not a terribly territorial person, really. If I'm not around anyone's welcome to use this desk. Just... please. Take your stuff with you when you're done. And if it's something that you've left there on purpose because I need to have a look at it? Leave a note. Let me know that it concerns me, and it's amazing how quickly I get out of p.o'd mode.

Annoying work thing #3: Chair stacking. We have a theatre (just a room, really) with removable seats. In other words, we have a lot of chairs that frequently have to be moved when the room's being used for things other than theatre-ness. To do this we have chair dollies. Simple rule: chairs get stacked on dollies; ten chairs to a stack. You'd be amazed at how many people around here seem to have no concept of either the number ten or stacking on dollies rather than just the floor. It's enough to make you wonder, really. Wonder about a lot of things. Like why I seem to spend so much of my life moving stupidly-stacked chairs.

Annoying thing #4: The office supply black hole. How can we possibly go through so many correction pens? Or pens in general? Or scissors (yes, really. Scissors)? I'd almost wonder if we had a pack rat, if pack rats lived here. And for those of my two fans who think I'm being metaphorical here, I'm not. I mean a real pack rat. It's less fun to call them bushy-tailed wood rats.

Annoying thing #5: Rolling the planetarium tent. No point in describing this one, because you really have to be there. Google "mobile planetarium" if you want to get the idea, though.

Aaaaaaaaaanyway. Time for me to get back to being annoyed at work, I guess. The list, as you can see, is very, very much niggly, and I don't want you to get the idea that I storm around here constantly thinking that I work with idiots. Ok, well, occasionally I do, but then everyone has their days, right? Besides, it's usually about then that I'll end up doing something stupid, so it all equals out in the end.

Except with the phtoocopier. Will you lot stop it with the photocopier, already?

Sheesh.

Chapter 1505: Wherein Dee whinges on a bit

2012-01-25T16:15:00.000-07:00

Remember the part where I said I'd try for a proper post in the next couple of days? Today apparently isn't one of them. I'm in a bit of a mood. My wrist aches, my buggered-up knee is letting me know it's not happy, I have a planetarium show to do tonight (wonderful for both wrist and knee), there's a meeting in the room tomorrow morning so I won't be able to just leave everything and go when I'm done (which SUCKS, just so's you know)... none of this really leads to creative blogging.

Or even the type of blogging that usually happens here.

Sooo...

Is that an improvement on anyway? I'm of two minds about it, to be honest.

Anyway, I'll try to be somewhat more user-friendly tomorrow, I think. In the meantime, enjoy the extremely not-recent photo (it's of high bush-cranberry, for those who were honing their plant ID skills via this blog's incredibly pointless photography) and I'll see what I can manage later.

Later being much later, for any of my two fans who wondered.

Aaaahhh!!!

2012-01-24T12:07:00.000-07:00

I scared you.

Or maybe I didn't, I don't know. I think I might have shocked you a little at least, though, what with actually posting and all.

So...

How ya been?

I'm already hitting I've got nothing, yep. Not even a new pointless photo.

Ok, the fact is that as is usual after a while of not working (or, rather, not being at the office. I was working; just not here) I have at least ~~a bazillion~~ five things to get caught up on, so blogging's not exactly a priority today. I'll try for something a bit more substantial in the next day or two, but now? Well, maybe I'll post a couple of doodles over on the other blog so that you can see what I was up to while the weather had me locked away. Or at least I'll post one. I should probably stagger the other ones out a bit. After all, going from famine to feast can make a person physically ill, you know.

Or maybe that's just my doodles.

Kidding, yes. Even I don't think that my doodles are entirely vomit-worthy.

Aaanyway (has anyone out there missed the Anyway Chronicles? That's probably what I should have named this blog), I'll post up something or other to the other blog, and then I'll have lunch if that's ok with everyone.

If it's not? Well, I'll probably still have lunch.

Later, all. Hopefully not as later as this particular pointless post was...

And now, the end is near...

2012-01-14T13:19:00.000-07:00

But first... I just noticed from the stats that someone got to the blog by searching the phrase "stupid dairy queen mouth commercials". This makes me happy. Happy because it means that someone besides me finds them terribly annoying.

Anyway.

Um, no. On second thought, I'm not going to start the anyway thing again. Let's have a line of dashes instead.

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Now, about the post title. Don't worry, it's not the end of the blog. Not that you'd worry about that anyway (stop it with the anyway...), but on the off-chance that one of my two fans would worry if the blog disappeared, I'll state outright that it's not going to. Unless Blogger decides that it should, I suppose, but I doubt that things are going that way. No, the end I'm referring to is just the likely end of posts from me (Hellooo Ontario office? Come out of hiding at least once in the next while?) for about a week or so, judging by the forecast.

She's gonna be cold out there, folks. Tomorrow's supposed to be above -20C (barely), but the windchill will be -30C. After that? Below -20C across the board. I've laid in my food supply, I've taken home work to do, and I'm planning to batten down the hatches and not come out until I can do so without fear of, you know, dying.

This is a stupid country to live in when you're allergic to the cold.

And can I say that I'm annoyed with the continuing optimistic predictions from Environment Canada? As usual. See, this is the way things happen (every year, I might add): Every January we here in Alberta get a cold snap. Every year it lasts for at least a week because the stupid stubborn cold air isn't easy for another system to push out of the way. This happens every year, did I mention? And yet every year the Environment Canada weather forecast starts out by saying that things will only last for one or two days. Then they add another one or two days. Then another one or two days. Do they think that we can't take reality? Do they think that we can't remember reality?

THIS HAPPENS EVERY DAMNED YEAR.

Ah well. It's not like getting worked up about it will prevent next week from happening. At least I was smart enough this time to make sure I have plenty of take-home work to tackle without the distractions of the office. And if all else fails, I have plenty of apartment distractions to keep me occupied while I'm stuck inside.

Which, um, sometimes prevent me from getting to the work in the first place...

It's not going to happen this time, though. I will get work done. And then I'll get cleaning done. And then? I'll... probably watch silly British sketch comedy on DVD for a while, knowing me.

For anyone who has my phone number, I'll be available by text if you feel like taking pity on someone who will no doubt be slowly going stir-crazy.

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One thing this whole cold thing is going to affect is my usual blog run-down of my favourite drunken awards show, otherwise known as the Golden Globes. I can't say I watch the Golden Globes for the awards -- most of the time I haven't seen a thing that's nominated -- but I do like the looser feel of the looser people hopped up on champagne. Having said that, I seem to remember being disappointed last year. Maybe everyone was too busy being uptight about the fact that Ricky Gervais actually said things that weren't worshipful? Could be. I suppose it took the buzz off for a few of them. At any rate, I'll be watching the pointless awards show tomorrow as well as the hours of pointless red carpet coverage on E! beforehand, even if the blog world will miss the chance to hear my words of wisdom about the pointlessness (and pointless fashions, of course) afterwards.

Oh, and gentlemen?

My absence does NOT absolve you if you're not wearing a bow tie with your tux.

Just so you know.

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One last thing. If for some reason you're one of the twelve people in the internet world who hasn't seen this video yet, you really should. Even without the nifty guitar trick, they've got a very good vocal sound, I think. I hope some good comes out of all of this for the band in the end.

Weird things I'm allowed to do at work

2012-01-13T12:41:00.000-07:00

Actually, weird thing, singular. Although I may think of something else as I type. You never know.

Incidentally, I had crumpets for breakfast this morning. I find my day always goes better when it starts with crumpets, for some reason. I should do it more often, I guess. I saw a neat video on YouKnow with a crumpet recipe that seemed pretty handleable... maybe I should actually try to make my own sometime?

Handleable is too a word, by the way. Or at least it is today.

Anyway.

Oh, before I say anyway: yes, it's not a recent photo. I need to get out and take some new photos, really. Nothing wrong with having a flower today, though, I figure.

Anyway.

Again.

For all you OH&S officer-types amongst my two fans, a question: do you think it's a good idea for someone with a proven track record as an accident-prone leftie to be allowed to use the paper guillotine? I'm not sure that it is. And for those who are getting a weird mental picture when I say paper guillotine, think this, not this, and it'll make more sense. Anyway (again), for some reason the people here let me use the guillotine without a second thought. On a regular basis.

Silly people.

On the other hand, I've been using it for years and I do still have all of my fingers.

That's amazing, don't you think?

Anyway (AGAIN), as part of my let's-find-work-to-do-at-home-while-I'm-a-shut-in plan of these last couple of days, this morning I did some quick and dirty mounting of those frog and ground squirrel drawings (well, scans of the drawings) that I was working on which I'll clean up a bit at home. In the case of this place, quick and dirty mounting for program props involves gluing stuff to poster board, trimming it up on the guillotine, and then running it through the laminator.

Terribly exciting stuff, this post. Sorry about that.

ANYWAY, our laminator is a roller-style one where you have to leave about a quarter of an inch of film around all the edges to keep the laminate from splitting, so to keep things a little neater I usually tape the film back to make the edges look more flush. It's a bother, it's time-consuming, and it's probably the perfect no-brain thing to do at home while watching television and pouting about the weather.

Stupid bloody weather.

Say it with me now: Anyway. I've got through another round of trimming and laminating without so much as a paper cut (yay me), so here's hoping that the upcoming office accident (because you just know that there's going to be one) doesn't decide to be a serious one just to make up for things.

Um, yeah.

Geez, this was a stupid post. If this keeps up, even I won't miss me while I'm gone.

Oh, and the blog thinnens...

2012-01-12T15:13:00.001-07:00

That would be the opposite of thickens, right?

Yep, folks. It's looking like blog pickin's might be sparse in the next week or so. Winter's supposed to happen, you see.

Yes, I know that it's already winter. We've even had a cold day here and there to prove it. Overall, though, this has been one of the most tolerable Januarys I've seen in a while.

You just know it had to end, right?

You see, here in Alberta we're pretty much guaranteed at least one hell week in January. A week where the temperature doesn't budge above -20C. A week where winter knocks on the door and yells WINTER at the top of its frozen lungs to make sure that everybody notices it. A week where suddenly everyone remembers that they were planning to go to Vegas all along that week and does their collective best to get the hell out of Dodge.

That week is, apparently, next week, and I'm preparing to hole up.

A few of my two fans know (and for those new to the program, yes I meant to type that phrase exactly the way it sits) that it's pretty hard on me physically to be outside for any length of time (say, more than half a minute) when it's that cold, so when the forecast is looking that glum I have to plan almost as though I was planning for a hurricane. Sufficient food and toilet paper (hey, priorities)? Check. Work to do at home in case I can't make it into the office? Check. Scuzzy hibernation-style I-refuse-to-go-outside clothing? Definitely check. Good thing I live alone for that last one, really. Let's just say I dress for warmth and moping when the weather hits stupid cold.

Anyway, all this is by way of saying that if the forecast doesn't change you can expect to see a lot less of me for a few days come Monday. I'll be staying in and working at home until it's safe to come out again.

Oh, but I will be here tomorrow. And Saturday. And possibly Sunday. You know, in case you were worried about how long the stir-craziness will have to set in.

Nothing like giving you all a bit of notice, eh? You're welcome, I guess.

Lack of post AGAIN

2012-01-10T15:34:00.001-07:00

Out at a school most of the day.

Might not be in tomorrow.

This blog's just riveting lately, isn't it? Ah well. We all have our moments. Or lack of moments.

Later. Whenever later may be...

Stop playing with your toys, Dee

2012-01-09T13:25:00.000-07:00

In the continuing saga of Useless things On My Desk, today's feature is a wooden frog. Technically, it's a friction drum (you can look that up yourself if you need to. I'm not in a linky mood). It's attached to the stick by fishing line, and if you hold the stick just right while you twist it, the frog will make vaguely froggy noises.

You all need one of these on your desks, you know. Along with the clacker ball behind it, the monitor lizard (of course it's a monitor lizard. It's guarding my monitor), the mini bean bag chair, the manipulative...

Ok, well you probably all need the tape, at least.

Yeah, I have a few toys on my desk. Lots of people use them, so I don't feel badly about the whole thing. Everyone needs something to fidget with, and I'm amused by what people choose as their primary mode of fiddling. It's almost a psychology test, really. Will he pick the therapy putty (not shown in pointless photo) or the magnetic levitating pen (also not shown in pointless photo)?

The interesting thing is that some of these toys seem to have second lives that I don't know about. The little wooden elephant that Wheat brought back from Africa tends to shift around the desk at night. Spooky, right? Ok, so it's probably just the cleaners moving it when they dust, but still. Mobile elephants tend to keep a person guessing. And the lizard? One day -- and I kid you not -- I came in and the lizard was muddy. Muddy. Seriously.

And I doubt it had anything to do with any of the children of staff members borrowing it for a little run through the garden or anything like that.

Anyway. The main reason for yet another desk picture (besides the fact that I really didn't have anything to talk about. Again. Sorry for the drought) is that I found myself playing with the frog while talking to Wheat about something, and that's got to stop. I mean, is there anything more annoying than having someone make random frog noises when you're trying to talk to them? I don't think that there's too much more annoying. And since Wheat was too polite to say anything about it, I'll say it to myself. Or did, in the post title. Stop playing with your toys. There's a time and a place, and if you can't figure it out I swear I'll take them away from you.

So there.

Now if I could only figure out who shuffled my unshuffled deck of cards (also not shown in pointless photo)...

By the way, I know I've probably blogged a version of this before at some point. What can I say? The topic well is reeeally dry in my brain right now.

It must be non-blather weekend

2012-01-08T11:29:00.002-07:00

Yep. Nothing much today, either.

So here's a rock.

And snow.

Yep.

On the plus side, I don't yet have a Facebook account...

Chapter 1497: Wherein Dee has managed to completely forget what it was she was going to talk about

2012-01-07T12:17:00.002-07:00

I hate that, you know. I woke up with an actual topic in mind for a change, had it somewhat planned out, and somewhere along the line it's completely disappeared. You know, kind of like a snowman that's been ploughed into by a garbage truck, and now all that's to be seen is the leftover tire track.

Aha! She actually manages to tie in the pointless photo! Saves me from trying to explain why I was taking pictures of garbage truck tracks in the back alley, at least. That'd just be a weird thing to do, otherwise.

Um, anyway. I've tried my usual tricks to get my brain back to its original thought (read that as: I've done the laundry and played several rounds of a mah jongg solitaire variant. Oh, and don't bother looking for my high score; I don't have a Facebook account) but apparently it's not going to come back to me until sometime shortly after I go to bed tonight.

I've really got to start writing things down.

Ah well. I suppose in lieu of what was no doubt going to be a fascinating discussion about something that most people couldn't give a flying rat's bum about, I suppose I could tell those new to the program why I don't have a Facebook account...

I didn't want one. The end.

Ok, there's a little more to it than that. For one thing, it's not the way I tend to use the computer. Yes, I know that the world today is all about social networking and I do plenty of that at work, but in my own personal computing time I don't really care if I'm connecting with the people I went to kindergarten with. I kind of like maintaining that thin shell of pseudoanonymity (as in, I've no doubt that I'm easy to track down if you really want to track me down. I'm not exactly shrouded in a veil of secrecy) that just being deeol gives me.

Thing number two: I don't have a computer at home and I don't own a smartphone, so other than the times when I'm at work or here at my father's place my account would be massively, boringly inactive. And yes, I know that there are plenty of accounts out there like that. I've just never felt like I need to add to the boredom. Kind of makes a person wonder why I blog, I suppose, but at this point it's more out of habit than anything.

Thing number three: The first person who showed up in the brief time (we're talking less-than-a-half-an-hour brief, here) that I very tentatively had a Facebook account a few years ago was someone that I didn't really want to have show up. There was no friending or anything involved; it was just a name I didn't need to see. I don't need that kind of networking in my life.

Thing number four: I waste enough time as it is.

The problem is, though, work. Like I said above, I do some of the business social networking at work, and we've noticed over the years that it's becoming increasingly valuable. There's only so much I can do with Twitter and the work blog, however, and since I don't have a Facebook account I never have anything to do with the Facebook side of things. I probably should.

Dammit.

I'm thinking of starting a Facebook account, aren't I?

Which means that I probably will. Dammit.

Oh, and in case anyone out there wondered, I've enjoyed the same amount of hand-wringing over both blogging and tweeting in the past. Seems to be a pattern, doesn't it?

Aaanyway. It's lunch time, so I'm just going to post this ramble and be done with it. Actual topic? Maybe tomorrow, if I remember it. Facebook account? Hopefully not by tonight.

Anyone out there know anyone who's on Google+, maybe? Yeah, didn't think so.

Purple hat

2012-01-06T12:55:00.000-07:00

Today's fuzzy (I was too lazy to try again with the flash on) not-entirely-pointless photo was taken a few minutes ago. And yes, it's of a purple beret on my desk.

Along with a few of the other weird things on my desk, yes, but we're not here to talk about that today.

What we're here to talk about (such as it is), is the purple hat.

I wore the hat to work today. It's warm, and it was a little chilly this morning (BUT STILL NOTHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT. I sooo don't want to take any chances with jinxing our current weather).

I've been wearing this particular hat for years. That's not particularly unusual -- I have lots of hats I've worn for years. Besides, berets don't typically go too far out of style; especially not when they're warm woollen hats on a January morning.

What's maybe a little more unusual about this hat (besides the fact that I'm blathering about it) is that it was a gift.

A gift from my brother.

He was in grad school then, and he'd gone to Quebec with his supervising prof. I certainly wasn't expecting him to bring me back anything, and I definitely wouldn't have expected a purple beret.

I didn't think he'd've noticed, you see. He managed to kill two birds with one stone.

I had a couple of Marks & Spencer (from the short time that there were Marks & Spencers in Canada) berets I was wearing pretty regularly back in those days, you see. Not so much as a fashion statement, although they went pretty well with the time, but as a handy hat on the days when it was chilly enough to want something on my head but not necessarily warranting full-on toqueage. I still have them around somewhere, but I haven't worn them for a long time because they fit a little tighter than I'd probably want them to now. Erm, not that my head has swelled or anything. They were just meant to sit a bit higher than I'd generally bother with now that my hair's no longer permed to the hilt and teased over to the side.

Ah, the early nineties.

Sorry, where was I?

Oh yeah. So I had these berets in regular rotation anyway, and when my brother came back with a beret from Quebec (a French beret, even...) it was pretty cool. AND...

It was purple.

A purple hat.

No, that's a good thing.

I've always been a purple type, and while I've grown away from always wearing purple (some of us purple people do that, believe it or not) I'm still drawn to purple clothing. And what's a better purple accent than a purple hat, really?

Anyway. This isn't really going anywhere, if any of my two fans thought it was (after all, it's a well known fact that if the blog comes to a point it will turn into a pumpkin). I just thought when I put on the purple hat today that my brother might be surprised, shocked, or mortified -- not sure which -- to find out that it's still part of the regular routine when I'm not wearing doofy hats that I've knitted myself.

The world might be pretty thankful for the purple hat, come to think of it...

Someday there'll be a real post here, honest.

2012-01-05T13:18:00.002-07:00

One of the problems with blogging during work breaks is that occasionally I'm a good do-bee and work when I'm at work (ok, it's more often than occasionally. It's just that sometimes working at work means not taking the usual breaks). As you've no doubt noticed, the blog suffers a bit when that happens.

Like now.

I've been in frog-drawing mode again (check the other blog if so inclined), so I've basically had the music on and have sat here with brush in hand pretending that I'm an illustrator of some sort. Fun, I guess. If anyone wonders, though, I suck less at frogs than I do at ground squirrels. Probably a good thing. It's not always healthy to suck forgs.

Suck at frogs, I meant.

Anyway. I thought of taking a pointless desk photo to show you the state of disarray things are in when I'm doing poster work, but that would have involved getting the camera out &c &c and I'm just not planning on that long a break. So...

I could have told you about the Long-tailed Weasel that followed my group down the trail on our walk yesterday, but again, I should get back to the drawing thing while I'm still in some sort of mood for it. Suffice to say, then, that we have a weasel who's apparently getting very curious about the weird things that humans do in the Sanctuary, and that's kind of cool. Gave us some fresh tracks to look at, too, which was great since everything else has melted out with the warm temperatures.

Did I mention that I'd like to keep the warm temperatures for as long as possible, please? Yeah, I probably did.

Back to work, then. And this almost even turned into a post of sorts. Yay me...

Pointless weather post of the day:

2012-01-04T14:44:00.003-07:00

It's somewhat mad (in a good way) that I just did an hour and a half walk with a group WITH MY COAT OPEN. In January.

Please note, Whomever is controlling the weather: I'm not complaining. Seriously. More of this, please. At least it'll make the winter that much shorter, and that's always a good thing.

Still here

2012-01-04T10:51:00.001-07:00

I've just been a cross between away from the computer, busy, and sleepless.

Wait. That didn't sound right.

I was away from the computer on the weekend, I've been busy with programs and such since, and yesterday I hardly got any sleep so after my morning round of planetarium the last thing I felt like doing was blogging. I guess that about covers things, then.

So how was your holiday?

Mine? Quiet. Nothing much to report, actually. And since I really should get about drawing a tadpole before my afternoon program, maybe I should leave the blather for another day.

Yep. Drawing a tadpole. Told you I get paid for doing weird things. Later, then, everyone.

something somethng New Year's

2011-12-30T12:10:00.000-07:00

I think my father juuust may need a new flag...

----------

This will be my last blog post of the year, seeing as I'm not planning to be near a computer for the next few days and blogging by 3DS seems a little weird. I feel like I should have something to say to wrap up the year and bump on to the next one, but I really don't. I don't tend to get into the New Year's spirit much.

Gee, this is going to be an exciting post.

I guess I've just never gotten into the whole idea of seeing the year off with a bang somehow. It wasn't really done in my family when I was little, for starters. I may have watched the ball drop in New York on TV once or twice (recorded and played back later to suit the time zone, of course), but to be honest I'm not sure I even did that. They must be fantastic memories if I can't even recall them, don't you think? Tells me that there's not much to remember, at any rate.

Later on, my New Year's memories are mostly of sitting on someone else's couch trying to find something to watch on TV until they managed to make it home one way or another. Um, I mean that I did a lot of babysitting when I was a teenager, and New Year's Eve was always a big moneymaking day so I never thought about doing anything in the way of partying myself. So far, still so boring. Next life stage...

Well, I didn't do anything for New Year's Eve when I was in university either, because I'd always be home for the holidays. Couldn't go out with friends, Dee? Well, honestly? I don't know if I ever even thought about it.

Fast forward a little bit and you'll actually find me going out for New Year's Eve now and then. Shocking, I know. I've even gone to a midnight showing of Rocky Horror, believe it or not. Such a wild child. Still, it doesn't thrill me. It doesn't help that, depending on who I'm with and where I am, I'm often ready for the night to be done with long before the clock strikes twelve. I know that it makes me sound like more than a bit of a party pooper, but the fact is that between the noise, the drunks, and the unrealistic expectations (mine as well as the ones I always seem to feel around the room) I just find myself wishing for a bit of piece and quiet after a while.

Some of us live alone for a reason, yes.

Ah well. This year? I have a couple of possibilities that I haven't made up my mind about yet. A pretty huge part of me just wants to stay home and watch silly British sketch comedies on DVD, but apparently that's not the way things are supposed to be done. We'll see, I guess, but for the moment my vote's still for the cave.

At any rate, I'll be escaping the internet for at least a couple of days, so I'll say have a good time whatever your plans are, don't be the idiot who drinks and drives, and we'll see you in the new year.

Well, you'll see me.

Or at least my typing.

Or what's left after I type.

I can't see you, of course...

Um, Season's Greetings?

In progress

2011-12-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

Just getting a start on this one, and that's exactly why you're not getting a blather from me.

I'll post an update on the other blog if it ends up to be worth looking at.

Back to the wood frog now. He looks so naked at the moment...

I get paid to do weird things.

----------

Ok, edited later to say that the finished product (such as it is) is here. And can I also say that I have proof that I'm not an artist? No, really. The proof is that I find it very odd to be paid for sitting, listening to music, and doodling. If I was an artist, wouldn't I feel at least a little bit entitled to it?

Toys

2011-12-28T12:19:00.001-07:00

Today's pointless photo is not, of course, of a toy. It's a pitchfork in the snow, which is different from a turkey in the straw. You know, in case you wondered.

Anyway.

It's been Christmas and gone, if you hadn't noticed, and while I know some of you are still on holidays I'm back at work. Which is ok, really. I like my job, and it's not like I had much for plans anyway. It does make it a little difficult to play with my toys, though.

Yes, toys.

It's been Christmas and gone, remember. Of course I have toys. One of the toys (which is sitting here quietly updating itself on the desk as I type. Toys are different from when I was a kid) is definitely a recognisably toy toy, but the other is in my bag waiting to be used for work if I choose to do that particular work today.

If I decide to do some drawing for program props, I mean.

Yep, thanks to the usual suspects (should I be calling them my dealers at this point? They certainly support a habit), I've made my annual pilgrimage and got some new art toys. Actually, if I'm going to be honest, it's not so much about the toys this time as it often is, because I had to legitimately replace a few things I'd run out of. I always try to leave a little wiggle room to spoil myself with something that's more of a whim, though, so I do have a toy.

Toy in this particular instance should be defined as something (a new medium, something more expensive than I'd usually buy, fancier paper than I need... that sort of thing) that ordinarily I'd have a pretty good argument with myself before getting, and more times than not would talk myself out of. When I'm working with a gift card, though -- and it doesn't matter where the gift card is meant to be spent -- I have a rule that since it's a gift I'm allowed to get something out of the ordinary.

I've got some good things, that way, actually. You people who are nice enough to give me gift cards can have surprisingly (and accidentally) good taste, you know.

Anyway.

Oh, I said that already. Sorry.

Anyway (third time's the charm), I should really get back to work. Which, depending on mood and how I decide to manage the frogs (yes, frogs), may include these things. Or not, since I brought some other things in as well. As I said, depending on mood.

Look at me, sounding all artsy and everything...

ANYWAY, I HAVE TO GET BACK TO WORK.

That was me yelling at me, if you wondered. Time to put away the toys now. That includes the blog...

NOTHING. Really, this time.

2011-12-27T10:29:00.003-07:00

Yeah, I really have nothing today and I'm not going to blather on about cars for two days in a row. I would hope that I don't have enough material to blather on about cars for two days in a row, actually.

So... here's my father's deer playground, otherwise known as the back yard. One of the bushes towards the top is a Red-osier Dogwood, which is a particular browse favourite in the winter, so it usually gets plenty of visitors. Needless to say, it's stayed about waist-height for years because of that.

Anyway.

Yep, that really is it.

See you later, then.

NOTHING. Oh. Except cars, I guess.

2011-12-26T11:13:00.001-07:00

I dunno, blog. I just seem to be blatherless today, I guess. Maybe it's the turkey hangover, or maybe it's the internal organising of the what-to-get-with-the-gift-card plan, but I've been sitting here for a while now and nothing's really popped into mind.

Guess I'll give you a car update? Sure, why not. As you can see, Huff (sigh. I have another named car. When will it ever end?) is well on its way to becoming the true successor of Dirty Moe. Dirty Huff doesn't exactly have the same ring to it, really, but I suppose that the dirty part is just a fact of life at this time of year.

I really should try to pick up the car wash habit this time around, though.

Other than that, things seem to be working out well with the Vibe. I'm starting to see why it has such a strong internet following. It's pretty versatile, and as far as the styling goes... well, I've had a chance to compare it to the Toyota Matrix a bit more (for those new to the program, the Vibe was basically a Matrix in Pontiac clothing), and I have to say that when I end up beside a Matrix in traffic it makes me happy to know that my Vibe could eat that Matrix for breakfast.

Oh, just kidding, Matrix people. Matrixes (Matrices?) look just fine. But you have to admit that the Pontiac styling was a little less family-car-ish, and that's good for those of us aren't doing the family car thing.

Anyway. One other car thing, since cars have unexpectedly led to words showing up on this post. I just want to say that I'm tired of noticing cars. I've probably already said that I'm tired of noticing cars. I still am, but somehow the act of driving a different car has made me curious about other cars and frankly? I'm getting sick of driving around and having a part of my brain go oooo! I wonder what that one's like inside when normally I couldn't give a flying fig about cars as long as the car I'm in is getting me safely to where I want to go.

Ah well. I'm sure the excitement will die down eventually.

Please let it die down eventually.

----------

One other other car thing, since looking at the pointless photo reminded me. The block heater cord. Ubiquitous in most of Canada, since it can get cold enough that your car will never start if you don't heat the engine block first. When I was in university, though, I found out for the first time that you can't assume that everyone has a block heater. We had a fellow on my floor in rez who'd driven his car up from California. We all knew he was in trouble at the first cold snap, when he came all excited about the fact that we had so many electric cars in Alberta (I should say that this was in the 80s. Electric cars in Alberta? Not exactly). We couldn't figure out right away what he was talking about until he mentioned all the cords he'd noticed in the parking lot. Then we explained to him that it was going to get cold enough that even his car would be complaining about it.

Poor guy. Such a shock. And an unexpected expense to him later, of course.

Gotta love this country sometimes.

And to all...

2011-12-25T18:13:00.001-07:00

Oh, you just know that you're not going to get much of a post out of me today, right? I'm fed, I'm logy, I have toys to play with... 'nuff said, since most of my two fans are in the same position right about now.

I suppose I just thought that Penny (who, as usual, assumes that she's the Greatest Gift of All) and I should say Merry Christmas to anyone out there who's actually bothering to read this tonight. Same goes for tomorrow, too, in fact. Merry Christmas, and try not to get trampled at the Boxing Day sales.

I don't think I'll be bothering with any Boxing Day sales, personally, but if I did for some reason change my mind, I'm set.

Yes, there's a reason why my nattily-attired feet are in this post (or at least their pointless portrait is). Somebody knows why.

The rest of you?

Oh, you can just be jealous.

Good night, all.

Scribbling in books

2011-12-24T12:27:00.001-07:00

This is a scribble. In a book.

Actually, it's more of a doodle, I'd say. It's on the back inside cover of a book.

More specifics? It's a doodle on the inside back cover of a small red moleskine that lives in my purse. You can see the edge of the back pocket if you look closely. I made this particular scribble (and the one on the front inside cover, which I'm not going to share with you) when I got this particular book, in order to wreck it right away. It was sort of an effort to keep myself from getting all perfectionist over it, which I otherwise probably would have done.

Should I be explaining what any of this has to do with anything?

It's the back cover of one of my sketchbooks.

The doodle is a branching pattern, which is the sort of thing that tends to come back again and again in my olf brain. I've probably mentioned that before, if anyone wants to take a dive into the archives. I'm a patternish person, really.

There's one very unusual thing about this book, you know. Or you don't know until I tell you, so I guess I should just do that already.

The weird thing?

It's almost full.

In fact, I have three moleskines on the go right now which are each almost full, and that is weirdness in itself.

Hmmm. Spellcheck is telling me that there's something I should elaborate on before I continue this extremely exciting blather, so just a sec.

There. Moleskine. And fingertips, which one should always include when scanning the cover of a moleskine. They're much less blurry in real life, though, the fingertips. You're also seeing the ribbon bookmark and the elastic closure, which come standard on moleskines.

Hang on, again. Rather than me explaining all of this: moleskines. To be honest, I resisted these things for a long time. A sketchbook is a sketchbook is a sketchbook, right? And when a company advertises its "legendary" notebooks you have to know that it's all hype, naturally. However, I hated the boring paper in my field sketchbook so much that I finally got to that what the hell, let's try a moleskine point. And? Now I have three. Four, if you count my agenda book as well. But for the purposes of this conversation, three moleskines.

That are almost full, to take me back to my original point. Me, filling sketchbooks? Definitely out of character.

I tend to be the poster child for Short Attention Span, you see. I'm notorious for starting books, deciding that there's either something wrong with them (ahem, boring field notebook) or with what I've done in them (thus the intentional cover-defacing of our present subject at hand. Or in front of hand, in that silly scan), and then just leaving them in a corner somewhere. The fact that I seem to be developing even a little bit of a habit of using a sketchbook is head-scratching to me.

I'm not exactly filling them at record pace, I should probably say.

The current example's been on the go for about a year, which considering that it's a small one (my other two are a larger sketchbook and a large-version watercolour book) means yooooouuu draaaaaw slooooowly, Dee.

Well, I don't, so much. I just fill slowly, that's all.

And like I said before, the fact that Ms. Look! A bird! is managing to fill sketchbooks at all is something to wonder at. Nice to know that I can stick to a few things in life, anyway.

Let's hope that I don't decide the same thing about painting walnut shells, though. I'm hoping that there's only so much of that sort of thing a person can maintain an interest in...

[/especially pointless blather]

'Twas the Friday before Christmas...

2011-12-23T13:18:00.000-07:00

... and all through the nature centre...

Well, most of the staff is already on holidays, so other than a really screwed up morning which I'm not going to elaborate on (it's all kind of boring unless you're directly involved) it's kind of quiet here.

So.

Today's pointless photo? Taken two or three weeks ago, but appropriate today because it's currently 3C out there. That's PLUS three. Kind of weird for this time of year, but if anyone in charge of the weather happens to be reading this I'd just like to say that I DON'T MIND. I mean, I really don't mind, ok?

I also really don't have much to blog about. I had leftover Chinese food just now... but I can't believe that anyone wants to hear about lunch. Or leftovers. There's lots of leftovers from the Christmas lunch yesterday, though, so if you happen to be in the neighbourhood help yourself.

I could tell you what I did last night, but what I did last night was paint some walnut shells with cheap tempera paint. And why did I do that? To see what it looked like. I painted one in white gouache, too, to see what it looked like matte. If I like the way they look when I get back to my place I'll maybe paint designs on them. And why? I dunno. They were there.

And what are my holiday plans, then? I don't really have any. I'll go in to Dad's for the weekend, and then I'll be working after that.

I'm the most boring person in the universe, aren't I?

Ah well. I guess I'll leave you with the annual nod to the NORAD tracking system, which, frankly, just makes me feel old. Why, when I was your age, you kids, we tracked Santa on the RADIO, not on some highfalutin' computer-thingamabob or smartphone.

Should I say here that we usually listened to the Santa tracking in the car while on the way to the local mental hospital to look at the decorated trees on the grounds, or would you find that a little bit too weird?

I should have stopped typing while I was still the most boring person in the universe, really. Happy end of the work week, everyone.

Oh yeah, the blogging thing

2011-12-22T13:37:00.003-07:00

Sorry, I was busy with something. And before that I was busy with something else. And before that, I had Chinese food. And yesterday I was out at a school. And the day before that I was on my arse in a parking lot.

TMI? Yeah, probably. The point is, I'm a little distracted just at the moment, so I'm afraid you'll just have to make do with these squirrel tracks in lieu of an actual post.

It could be worse. I could be telling you about parking lot arse...

Guess I'm that old

2011-12-18T12:20:00.000-07:00

But first, and by request: One doofy Christmas hat.

What? You thought you were going to get to see my doofy face, too?

-----------

I've been doing my usual internet fiddling around here this morning, and again as usual it's led to me not bothering to think of a blather topic. Old familiar tune, right? Then I read about Vaclav Havel's death.

Oh, and if you're young enough to not know much about him, the CBC's write-up (Associated Press, really, but I found it on the CBC) is a pretty good summary.

I remember watching the events in Czechoslovakia unfolding. I remember being amazed that this man and his associates were able to accomplish such incredible things peacefully (and I still can't believe that he was never given the Nobel. If they give it to him posthumously I'd consider it almost a crime, especially considering some of the other people who've since been given the so-called Peace Prize). I remember the power of his words.

And then I remember that when all of this was going on, a large portion of my two fans weren't even born yet.

Selfishly, that caused almost as big a lump in my throat. I say selfishly, because I'm about to leave reflections on Vaclav Havel and his legacy to those far better qualified and start blathering about meeeeeee.

When I was in high school, one of our major units in Social Studies was an examination of the Soviet Union. Hands up if you remember the Soviet Union? Well, I didn't study it as history when I was in school. Perestroika was just getting rolling as I entered university. Words like glasnost were bandied around with mix of disbelief and confusion (seriously. We weren't exactly brought up to trust what the Russians were up to, even here in Canada). We watched people climb on top of the Berlin Wall and it was like we'd entered an entirely different world than we'd been trained for, somehow. It was as exhilarating as watching our troops go to Iraq (for what's sometimes now called the FIRST Iraq war, which it certainly wasn't) was scary.

And so many of you weren't even alive when all of this was going on.

Guess I'm that old.

That's boggling to me, because I don't feel old. I'm not old. The world just moves that fast these days, that's all.

When I was growing up, we had a next-door neighbour who was born close to the turn of the century (LAST century. Sigh.). My mother would sometimes say things like, "imagine all the the changes she's been through. The world's a completely different place now than it was when she was born." True enough, yes, but politically and technologically I think I've seen more changes in the last twenty years than she could have imagined in eighty. I won't bother to enumerate them -- you all know what I'm talking about -- but seriously. If I was able to take one of today's twenty-year-olds back to my childhood, that person would be in disbelief at how "primitive" things were.

Forty-some years ago.

Man, that's just sad.

You kids get off of my lawn, now.

----------

Now, question time. And hi, Ces. Thanks for all your comments! I look forward to seeing your work every week for IF. Let's see what I can answer...

Shortness, right? I'm 5'2". Not tiny, really, but not tall enough to be easily mistaken for a boy. And, of course, there's that whole matter of the having-breasts thing.
Yep, I never put a Follower gadget on this blog even though I did on the other one. No particular reason why, I suppose. Maybe just that I already had enough toys on the sidebar, or maybe that my ego couldn't handle waiting to see if anyone actually followed me. Probably more likely the latter, since this place is (as advertised) pretty pointless.
And yes, I do have a slight problem with Micron addiction, although I've managed to limit myself to a set of sepias and a set of blacks. Only because I have a set of Prismacolor Premiers in my purse, though.

I guess that's enough typing for now, especially since my stomach's telling me that it's lunch time already dammit. Should I mention that this whole time I've been listening to songs from Hugh Laurie's album that I probably should have asked for for Christmas since I don't seem to have gotten around to buying it yet? Want my verdict, such as it is? Good music, good band, great introduction to New Orleans blues for those who are curious... but Former Singing Teacher hopes that he learned to loosen up on his vocals a bit when he was touring with this stuff. He tends to be juuust a little tight, and that can lead to problems later. I'm sure he's figured it out by now, though. I'll be curious to hear the difference on the promised second album.

Yeah, I used to do that

2011-12-17T11:40:00.000-07:00

Today's pointless photo is not, in fact, pointless. Weird mood, I guess.

A friend of mine decided a while ago to start taking piano lessons again. She already plays, but she wanted to sharpen her skills a bit. We were talking the other day as we were stuffing envelopes (remember paper cut day a couple of posts ago?), and she mentioned that she was thinking of maybe doing a Broadway piece next. I have a bunch of that stuff around from when I used to teach singing, so I told her I'd have a look and see if any of the arrangements suited piano without vocalist.

I've barely started going through music yet, but inevitably it's reminded me a lot of past performances. Performances of some of my students, yes, but mostly my own. I've moved away from it at the moment, but I used to perform quite a bit; both as a child and an adult. I was in choirs and competitions when I was a kid, and later went back to competing as an adult. Don't get me wrong -- this wasn't the big time. Small town stuff, not the Met. Still, when you become known as a singer in a small town, you tend to get asked to do a fair number of events. So, in the spirit of we haven't had a link-filled post for a while and courtesy of what I could find on YouKnow here's a few of the things I've warbled for pay. And, of course, not-pay, which is far more frequent. None of these clips are of me, naturally, but if any of my two fans actually want to get a handle on what I might sound like (and if so, why?), I'll tell you that I'm a lyric mezzo. Oh, and while I'm definitely no Ella Fitzgerald, I'm also not one of those people who sounds like an opera singer when she sings jazz. It's not too hard for me to drop the training (so to speak) if I want to. Ok, here goes:

Oiseaux, si tous les ans. Not too much to say about this one, except that Mozart's art songs are more singable than people usually expect them to be. This is a nice little concert piece.

Willow 'tit-Willow. One of the choirs I belonged to as a kid occasionally put on Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. These were somewhat abridged versions for kids, but most of the music was still there. Sadly, the shortage of boys in choirs being what it often is, I ended up playing a male character every single time. The one time I was supposed to have a female role (Ruth, in Pirates of Penzance) we had to cancel that year's performance. Figures. Anyway, in the Mikado I was playing KoKo the Lord High Executioner, and sang the song you see here. We ended up performing this as part of a youth drama festival at one point, and after we were done I hurried backstage to change and take off my make-up so I could watch the next group. As I sat down the woman next to me turned and stared rather rudely. I thought maybe I'd missed some of the make-up or something, when I heard her turn to her companion and say, "my god. It was a girl." Yay for my acting skills, I guess, but kind of depressing for a teenager's low self-esteem. I should add at this point that I'm pretty short and by no stretch of anyone's imagination look much like a boy...

The Saga of Jenny. Man, this is a fun song to perform. I'm linking to Gertrude Lawrence here because she originated the part on Broadway, but I sing it a little lower so I don't sound too shrieky.

Ständchen. A nice bit of Schubert, and obviously pretty well known so I don't need to add my two cents about it. It's what's pictured in today's not-pointless photo, by the way. And if you happen to click on the photo and notice some weird handwriting, that's my scribble and my IPA transcription, yep. I don't have even the slightest bit of German, so I tend to need the help. And yes, smarty pants here did take a linguistics course in university and can really read that odd-looking script. Or could. I probably could stand a review at this point.

I'm Beginning to See the Light. A couple of years after I finished my degree I got a call from my old singing teacher, who needed some help with (read: was looking for someone to take over, but I didn't know that at the time) her choir. She also got me back into solo work, and somehow or other managed to talk me into a return to the local music festival I'd grown up competing in. The festival had recently decided to adopt the Provincial music syllabus to make it easier for local winners to go on to Provincials if they wanted to, and that meant that there were way more competition categories than there used to be. I took advantage of it and sang jazz instead of classical. Complete with a partial verse of scat, I might add, which was something when you consider that no one had ever sung jazz at that festival before. From my vantage point on stage that night, it was kind of funny. There were my mother and one of my former accompanists looking like they were really enjoying it, the adjudicator and secretary looking as happy as their positions allowed them, and the rest of the audience... looking confused. What? This isn't Brahms. This isn't a hymn. What on earth is this music doing here?

I won, by the way. First time I'd ever won a solo competition. Thanks, Duke.

And finally, by way of celebrating the season:

Rise Up, Shepherd, and Follow. Sort of an odd thing to link to the King's Singers here since the arrangement I use is much more loose and jazzy, but whatever. It gives you the tune if nothing else.

Anyway. There you have it. And if you're looking for a singer for your next Christmas party, call my non-existent agent... who would tell you that I'm still doing my best to lay off the singing at the moment until my throat can recover from the world's longest cold (seriously. It's been nearly a month now, and that's how it's been for everyone else around here as well. At least I know it's not just me, I guess).

Next week maybe we'll talk carols, if I can mange that without becoming too much of a nerd. Honestly, I'm weird about carols.

Of course, it's not like I'm not weird about other things too.

Doofy hat

2011-12-16T12:39:00.000-07:00

Today's pointless photo isn't of a doofy hat. You know, just in case anyone was confused.

I sometimes forget, when I'm out and about around this time of year, that if people smile at me it's probably not out of a spirit of 'tis the season or anything like that. No, they're probably just confused at the doofy hat on my head. That I generally forget that I'm wearing, it should go without saying.

See, here's the thing. I knit a little. Or I should say, I knit but I don't have the attention span to knit anything that takes more than a few days. I've made one afghan, true, but the only reason that happened is that it was done up in one-foot squares of different pattern stitches, then sewn up into sort of a quilt thing when all the squares were done. I'd never have lasted if I'd had to do the whole thing in a single pattern. So what do you knit when you don't have the patience to knit anything bigger than, say, a couple of skeins' worth?

Doofy hats.

Winter hats. Toques, as we'd call them here in Canada.

I've made myself more than a few toques over the year. Some of them qualify as almost normal.

Some of them are doofy.

My Christmas ones are, by the very fact that they're Christmas ones, extremely doofy. Any time you knit something out of the sparkly red, green, and white Christmas yarn with the intention of wearing it, you are guaranteed to look like a doofus.

I guess I don't care. I like my doofy Christmas toques.

The one I have with me today isn't extremely doofy, it's true. In fact, if I wear the one I made from the same pattern but in non-Christmas yarn, no one gives it much thought. Wear the same thing in sparkly red, green, and white, though, and you get a lot of nice hat.

Some people might even genuinely mean that, I think.

Where the Christmas doofiness really shines, though, is in my stocking cap. It's a true, long-enough-that-the-pom-pom-hits-me-in-the-butt stocking cap, boys and girls. In sparkly red, green, and white. It's a sight, that's for sure. And I love it.

Truth be known, I thought stocking caps were kind of stupid even as I started knitting my first one (that's right, folks; I have not one but two ridiculous stocking caps). I think I only knit it because the pattern was there and I needed practice knitting in the round. The first time I wore it was a revelation, however. I found out that stocking caps... exist for a reason. Seriously. When you're cold you can wrap them around like a scarf. If you're feeling goofy (as opposed to doofy) you can tie decorative knots in them. Stocking caps? Fantastic. So I knit another one with the Christmas yarn. Christmas stocking caps?

Kinda doofy.

But I don't care.

I haven't worn my stocking cap this year because it hasn't been cold enough, but if we do get a cold day or two before New Years you better believe I'll be proudly drawing even more smiles (and stares, with the stocking cap. It's a given). Maybe I'll even take a photo.

Do you think that the world can take me in all of my true doofitude?

I guess we'll just have to see.

Hazard

2011-12-15T13:00:00.000-07:00

I need to do my OH&S hazard assessment for work.

I've been putting it off.

I probably should have done it last week, but I wasn't in any particular hurry.

It's due tomorrow, so I need to get it done.

In fact, I'll probably do it after I'm done blathering here, even though I'm not looking forward to it.

And why the delay, Dee?

Oh... it's just because I'm too often the hazard part of the assessment.

Yeah.

I'm a wee bit stereotypical lefty accident-prone, I'm afraid. It's not usually anything serious (although I did once give myself a minor concussion by running into a tree. Long story, but the tree and I both lived), but if I had to make a list of all the stupid little work accidents I've had over the years, our OH&S officer would probably decide that I'm not safe to be let out of the house. Not without a foam rubber suit, at least.

For example?

I just finished helping to stuff envelopes for a mail out. Gave myself a paper cut on my thumb. Put on a bandage just to be doubly sure that I didn't bleed on anything. Grabbed the next envelope. Gave myself a paper cut. ON THE SAME THUMB.

My one-time forum nickname was Gimpy the Wonder Klutz for a reason, boys and girls.

I once turned our planetarium projector into a biohazard when I was making a repair. Didn't noticed I'd pinched myself badly enough to open the skin... until after I'd had the pinched finger pretty much all over the (literally) bloody thing. Had to wipe it all down with alcohol after. That was a fun incident report.

Needless to say, it's not fun to do a hazard assessment when the biggest hazard seems to be you doing pretty much anything.

Ah well. I'm a left-hander in a right-handed world, and I have the scars to prove it.

And now I suppose I should go think of all the possible ways around here that I could make more, right?

Or left, whichever works.

Excuse me while I try to NOT make myself bleed, now.

Pointless photo of the day:

2011-12-14T13:04:00.001-07:00

That's it. Other stuff to do now...

I got rhythm...

2011-12-11T10:20:00.001-07:00

... I got music. I got...

nothing for a blog post...

Yep. I can already tell that I'm just not in the mood today. No reason for it; I've just got that feeling that there's no point in forcing anything because it'll end up totally lame.

Hey, at least I'm honest.

Enjoy the weird picture, then. See you tomorrow.

Or whenever.

Pointless photo of the day:

2011-12-10T10:24:00.001-07:00

Fresh laundry. Now with extra cat.

----------

I suppose it's not a terrible surprise that I ended up with a degree in zoology, considering that I grew up with animals. We always had pets. Furry pets. Cats, dogs, gerbils (way too many gerbils. Nasty cannibalistic things, gerbils, when there gets to be a few too many of them), guinea pigs, monkeys...

Yeah, we had monkeys when I was very little. I remember a bit about them, like the bamboo cage in the kitchen, and having one on a leash in the back yard. I also remember an old film reel my dad took of one of them that would wait on top of a dining room chair for the chihuahua to pass underneath so that he could leap onto the dog, grab his collar, and ride him around the house. That particular monkey's name was Charlie Brown. The dog? Snoopy, of course.

Poor dog had such a monkey on his back.

You'll notice above that I said furry pets. We never had anything that wasn't furry as a pet here. No birds at all (I'm not sure, but I think that might have been because my grandmother always had birds. Maybe it turned my father off a little). No reptiles either, although having reptiles as pets wasn't very common around here when I was a kid so it probably would have seemed pretty weird anyway.

I didn't find out that I liked snakes until I started working at the nature centre, actually. I remember being asked in the interview if I had experience with snakes, and having only just finished university the previous spring I had to be honest and say only dead ones.

Good ol' zoology degrees. You get to know a lot of dead everything.

Um, yeah. Live snakes turned out to be pretty cool, though. More personality than I would have thought they had. I'm not sure if I'd want the bother (and dead-mouse-defrosting) of having one as a pet, though.

I don't technically have any pets at all at the moment, although I do think of the cats as mine as well as Dad's (and, more importantly as all cat owners know, the cats obviously think of me as theirs). I live in a pet-free apartment building (supposedly pet-free. There seems to be an awful lot of "pretend" dogs about for pet-free) and my apartment's pretty small, so it would be a bit difficult to have a pet even if I wanted to.

Do I want to? Well like I said before, I grew up with animals. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have something around if I could.

So what would it be, then?

I dunno.

Probably not a dog. Don't get me wrong -- I like dogs. What I don't like is needy, and dogs have that in spades. Sure, it might be rewarding to come home after work and have some dog wagging at the door waiting for me, but there comes a point with dogs where I always feel like saying CAN'T YOU FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO DO???. Maybe it's just that our last dog was neurotic, I don't know, but if you look back through the archives at any time I house-sat for Dad while she was still around, you'll find me just about going bats by the end of the week. All that constant what are we going to do now and what are we going to do now and what are we going to do now...

Yep. There's more than one reason that I don't have kids.

I don't think I'd have a salamander or a frog as a pet either, even though they're about fifty billion times less needy than dogs. Why not, then? Simple. Crickets. I hate crickets, and I deal with them enough at work. They stink. And as careful as you are with them, there's always going to be one or two that manage to escape. And then? Singing. Gah. Look, I know that there are plenty of people out there who really like the sound of crickets singing, and if crickets are singing outside that's just ducky. When they're insistently singing from a random corner of a room and you can't find them? Not exactly soothing.

Let's face it -- anyone who knows me knows that I would end up with cats. Nothing wrong with that; I'm good with cats. I like to think that I get cats, and cats generally get the fact that it's ok to have attention for a little while and then go do something else. I know that dog people don't care much for the independent streak in cats, but that's all right for me. I like my alone time, as any one of the people I dated seriously back in the day can tell you (oh, but that's really another story for another time. Really really for another time). Cats are like boyfriends who work on the oil patch. Just when you're getting sick of them they go away for a while.

Ok, I'm laughing at myself for that last one. Sounds like I need to rent a pet rather than own one, doesn't it?

The big problem with cats (besides litter boxes, I suppose) is that I'm allergic to them. Might be an issue, yes? Oh, not so much. Like I said, I grew up with cats. I also tend to acclimatise to cats that I'm around regularly. Allergies wouldn't stop me from getting a cat.

If I were going to get a cat.

Which I'm not, in the foreseeable future.

Guess I'll have to keep borrowing Dad's cats, then. Oh, and for anyone concerned about my allergies after seeing the shot of Penny on the laundry, don't worry.

It was Dad's laundry.

Home work

2011-12-09T12:35:00.001-07:00

If any of my two fans missed me yesterday, I was working at home. Well, even if any of my two fans didn't miss me I was still working at home, so there you go. I stayed home to try to give myself a boot to the youknow in regards to a project that's been waiting to be finished since last spring. Not terribly time-sensitive, I guess you could say, but it still needed to be done.

Today's pointless photo shows what working at home looks like, or at least what it looked like yesterday. Yep, I was sprawled out on my cheap, needs-to-be-replaced comforter (the white stains? Gesso. Let's just say that art happens on the bed a bit too frequently) pretending that I can draw ground squirrels. I might put the scans on the other blog after I'm done here since I've been a little lazy about posting there this past while, but if I do and you decide to go check them out just keep in mind that things were supposed to be on the kid-friendly, slightly cartoonish but still recognisable side.

And also remember that I suck at ground squirrels. Plants are much more fun.

Anyway. For the art supply nerds amongst you, you're seeing Koh-i-noor Hardtmuth woodless graphite pencils, which it's completely ridiculous for someone of my level to use but I love the feel of; Pigma Microns (in sepia), still very much my pen of choice even though I've tried plenty of others by now; and... yeah, good old-fashioned Laurentiens. I've thought about getting some better quality pencil crayons, yes, but the fact is that I do so little with crayons that it doesn't seem right to spend the money, somehow. Not that similar logic stopped me from buying the woodless graphite pencils, you'll notice. Maybe I should rethink it the next time I'm in the mood for a new toy? We'll see.

Oh, and if anyone was wondering about the rest of the pencil crayons that should have been in the empty box you see in the picture, they were on the floor. Some of them are getting a little short to be able to find in the easel set-up, so I usually just dump them out when I use them. Can you tell that I live alone, folks?

You should be able to tell that I was working instead of just doodling because you can see my phone in the middle of the mess. I needed to stay in touch while I was working. Working, yes. Not texting the Ontario office about the fact that I suck at ground squirrels.

Ok, well, maybe a little of that.

Ah well. There you have it. I don't always do the art thing on the bed, by the way. It was just easier to have my resources close at hand this time around. And it was closer to the television. And I didn't have to bother with cleaning the mess off of my table...

Hey. All these things are important considerations when you're spending the day sucking at ground squirrels, you know.

Things I didn't plan to be doing today

2011-12-07T13:01:00.001-07:00

Or, more accurately, thing I didn't plan to be doing today. And that thing is?

Cleaning out my fridge.

Yep.

Didn't feel like getting groceries yesterday, so I just picked up something for supper. Well, I must have had a moment of prescience or something, because when I got home my fridge was cool rather than cold, and the freezer? Dripping.

Sigh.

Good thing I was fairly bare-cupboard, I guess, but it was still rather depressing to have to throw out a grocery bag's worth of limp, thawed stuff this morning.

The good news? I'm a renter, so it's the landlord's problem to fix this.

The bad news? This is the same landlord that took three months -- THREE MONTHS -- to bring in an electrician to replace the broken light switch in my bathroom. I don't hold out a lot of hope, which is why I haven't quite got around to calling the office yet. I'll do it after I type this, of course, but in the meantime?

Well, does anyone out there have any suggestions or living in the nineteenth century?

Did I sigh already?

Yeah, I did.

Ah well, this deserves another one.

Sigh.

Lack of Christmas Carols

2011-12-06T13:14:00.001-07:00

But first... OCD much, Dee?

These peels aren't posed. I peeled them that way and put them down without thinking. It was only after I looked at the pile (and these were the teeny tiny mandarins, if you're wondering why there's four peels. I love mandarins, but four regular-sized ones at once is a lot even for me) that I realised that the world deserved a photo of just how habit-bound I am even when it comes to oranges. I always peel them the same way, I get a little miffed if the peel doesn't come off in one go, and obviously I'm a trifle... decorative when I stack the peels.

Sad, really.

Anyway.

My two fans will be shocked to hear that there are no Christmas carols at my house so far this year. No CDs out, no books out, and as far as possible no carols in my head, either.

If you're new to the program, you'll have no idea how shocking this really is. You see, I love Christmas carols. I collect Christmas carols. I have scads of unusual or hard-to-find carols, both to play and to listen to, and I generally have to force myself to wait until December first before I start singing Christmas carols. I figure it's only fair, the December thing. If I didn't have it in place, I'd be driving everyone around me nuts with off-season Christmas carols. I'm usually scalp-deep in carols by now, if you hadn't quite picked up on that.

Not this year.

I'm doing everything I can to avoid it.

And why?

I STILL HAVE NO VOICE.

That's right, still. Well, there's a squeaky little pathetic excuse for a voice that I can almost use to communicate with, yes, but for the most part there's not a voice. And definitely no voice to sing with.

I can't even begin express to you how frustrating that is.

At this point it's fatigue from all the coughing that's been happening these past couple of weeks and I know that all I need to do is rest things to make sure that I don't cause myself permanent damage, but really? No voice at the one time of year when it's permissible to sing along with the vapid tunes in the department stores? No voice when I could be blasting away through my New Oxford Book of Carols at some hoary old thing or other than 99% of North America has never even heard of (I, um, have a bit of a thing for early carols)? No voice when it's Christmas carol season?

Is not fair.

Not fair at all.

And it's equally not fair that I have to work so hard at keeping the tunes out of my head, since I have such a habit of singing along to my internal voices.

It's pretty hard to make it a truly silent night in my brain, boys and girls.

Silent night.

Stille nacht

heilige nacht
Alles schlaft; einsam wacht...

Bugger. This ain't gonna be easy...

Quick pointless photo:

2011-12-02T12:31:00.001-07:00

Mostly just by way of letting my two fans know that I'm still around. This blasted cold (which, hello? Still no voice. That's nearly two weeks with no proper voice) migrated to my sinuses and caused me a couple of days of not being able to leave the bed much. Needless to say, I missed a bit of work.

Also needless to say, I need to get back to work now.

I'll try for something more tomorrow, assuming that I can make it into work two days in a row.

Something I only just learned

2011-11-29T12:57:00.001-07:00

Did you know that NeoCitran is a Canadian thing? I didn't, until just now.

I was about to mention how much I'd like to toss back a NeoCitran at the moment and just fade off into an antihistamine-induced fog for a bit (and likely will, as soon as I get home from work. The cold's coming along just swimmingly, thanks), when it occurred to me that I said something about NeoCitran on a forum years ago and was met with an almost-universal reacton of NeoWhat?

Except from the Canadians, of course, but now I know why. It's a Canadian thing. Apparently you folks in the States go into TheraFlu comas instead, and in Europe... hmmm. Gimme a sec. Does Lemsip sound right? It's what Wikipedia's telling me, anyway.

It's kind of a funny thing to me, in a way. We start to assume that the world's becoming a homogenised thing via the internet and, well, interconnectedness in general, but we still live in very different places. I'm not about to go into a whole retail comparison here (don't have the head for it, anyway. See above re: NeoCitran. My sinuses are killing me right now), but I will tell you that if I say Smarties I can guarantee you that the Americans amongst my two fans will be picturing a very different thing than the Canadians or Brits will.

And hands up all who even know what I mean by Ribena (no points awarded to UK participants. Too easy). Hey, it's a staple at my place. Way better than those powdered water-additives, as long as you don't mix it kid-syrupy-sweet.

And for those of you who do know what Ribena is... shush. I'm allowed to like Ribena. At least it has vitamin C.

Anyway. This has nothing to do with anything, and just shows where my head is. I'm going home in a while to curl up in a blanket and watch whatever stupid television programs I recorded yesterday. Sounds perfectly mindless, and I mean that in a good way.

I wonder if Ribena goes with NeoCitran?

Pointless photo of the day:

2011-11-27T11:36:00.001-07:00

Well, I suppose not entirely pointless since I felt like a flower.

Seeing a flower, that is; not being one.

I'll be back later if I can think of an actual blather. If not? Well, at least you've got something to look at.

Augh

2011-11-26T16:54:00.001-07:00

Not to be disgusting, but you know you've coughed too much when you start tasting blood.

And before any of my two fans start to panic and think that I'll either be guest-starring in an Italian opera or on an episode of House, not much blood. Little flecks. Just enough to tell me that the past few days have been pretty violent on my poor throat, that's all.

Like I didn't know that already, what with the screwed-up voice and all, but whatever.

Yeah, this current round of admittedly-minor-but-very-annoying illness has definitely hit old by now. That, plus the headache (and gee? Do you suppose that might have something to do with being kept up at night by -- I dunno -- coughing, maybe?), hasn't exactly made me enthusiastic about blathering today.

Ah well. Could be worse, as I just found while searching the Mayo Clinic site for bloody sputum. Only out of curiosity, you understand. I know full well that I just have a cruddy throat and nothing more than that. It's easy to see, though, how the internet feeds hypochondriacs. Geez. If you have any susceptibility at all to being convinced that you're dying from something minor, the internet can go a looong way towards helping you run with that thought. Doctors must really hate our current culture of electronic diagnoses.

Anyway. Sadly, this is all I have at the moment to blather about. I'll try for something a bit more substantial (and a lot less gross) tomorrow, assuming that I have at least a slightly better night's sleep than I have the past couple.

Later, all.

Pop

2011-11-25T12:30:00.001-07:00

I've spent a rather odd amount of my workday this past couple of weeks throwing strings of Christmas lights.

Not putting them up; throwing them.

It's all part of our city's annual light exchange, you see. As an effort to get people to stop using old-fashioned incandescent Christmas lights and switch to the much more energy-efficient LED version, the City in conjunction with a local retailer and, well, us, has sponsored a program where people can exchange two sets of old lights for a set of new ones. As an added bonus, we pass the old lights off to a recycler to reclaim the copper wiring &c that would otherwise go to the landfill.

Pretty neat idea, really.

Of course, what it means for those of us at the nature centre is hauling cart load after cart load of tangled-up light strings to the giant bin outside the loading dock, and throwing them in. Not dumping, no. If all a person did was dump, pretty soon you'd have a huge pile right at the near side of the bin, and a big open space towards the back. So, we throw. Aim for the far end of the bin as much as possible (which, for me? Let's just say that any softball team I've ever played for can tell you that I'm not exactly a natural ~~tosser~~ thrower. No comment on the tosser bit, ok? I don't want to know if I'm a natural one of those). Aim for the far end, and hope for the pop.

You see, the unexpectedly fun thing about throwing strings of lights is that it's a little like having a miniature firework show, only without the brightness. Bulbs make a fantastic sound when they pop, and then you get a spray of little shards of glass all over the place (except, hopefully, where you happen to be standing. I'm sure the whole thing is a bit of an OH&S nightmare, come to think).

It's also very silly amusement to get to break things on purpose.

Now that the bin's almost overflowing, though, there's an added dimension. A challenge. The bulbs have to contact other bulbs squarely, or they won't pop at all because there's too much of a cushion of other light strings. We've hit the point where the occasional pop is almost cause for celebration.

And?

Well, not for the first time I find myself thinking, "I get paid to do this?"

My job is weird.

But you should see all the lights.

In fact, go to the work blog if you want to see the latest pictures of the full bin. Don't know where the work blog is? E-mail me. Don't have my e-mail? Well, then we have a problem, I guess. You see, I do try to make an effort to keep my personal internet self a little separate from my work internet self, and I just can't go passing these things along in the blather...

But still. Popping lights on purpose? Just way too much fun.

I guess I should go check to see if we have another load of "fun" now then, shouldn't I? Yeah, I should.

I get paid to do this. Seriously.

Weird

2011-11-24T12:47:00.001-07:00

This day, I mean. I've been fairly busy, but I can't really tell you what I've been busy about. I mean, I suppose if I sat down and listed things moment by moment it would all add up to I've been busy, but as it is it just seems weird.

As is my voice, at the moment. You know, for anyone who was wondering about that situation. Better -- definitely much less rodential -- but at the point where it's a bit scratchy and definitely not trustworthy. I did yell between offices just now, though (we have intercoms but don't tend to use them, I guess), so things are looking up.

Now then, topic. Shall we talk hoodie? I've haven't talked hoodie for a while because I haven't worn it for ages, but we can talk hoodie today.

As you might have guessed, I'm currently wearing a hoodie. It's a work hoodie since it has the work logo. We wear uniform shirts here at the nature centre, and one of our approved shirts is (well, obviously at this point) a logo-ed green (maybe the green part wasn't obvious) hoodie.

I have a love-hate relationship with the hoodie. I hate the hoodie, and I love... um. It's... warm? Yeah, ok, that'll do. I mostly just hate the hoodie, however, and I think I wore it today partly out of a sense of guilt because I've noticed that everyone else has been wearing hoodies with the cooler weather and some of those hoodies are looking a bit faded with use. Mine? I have one that I haven't even worn yet, to be honest.

That's how much I love the hoodies.

I guess I'm just not a hoodie person.

Ok, let's qualify that. I wouldn't mind the hoodie if it was a zippered hoodie. As it is, it's a big bulky sweatshirt-y thing with a far-too-bulky hood hanging off of the back that makes my hair look even stringier than it generally does. Zippered hoodies tend to be lighter, in my experience, and they don't have that whole wedded-to feeling. Wedded-to, Dee? What I mean is that once I put this thing on for the day it's staying on unless I'm absolutely and completely overheated. With thin hair like mine, if I try to pull the silly hoodie off I become a total science experiment.

Oh, and as I was looking for the above clip, I found this one. Bonus static!

Aaanyway. Kind of got distracted by work stuff for a moment. And then non-work stuff for another moment. I've totally lost my train of non-thought.

That part? Doesn't fit today's post title. It's most certainly not weird for me to get distracted.

I may as well end with a pointless question, then. When exactly did hoodies become hoodies? When I was growing up they were kangaroo jackets (you know, because of the pouch pocket). I know in Saskatchewan they are (or were, at least) bunny hugs. Hoodie? Descriptive, yes, but very boring. I also wonder when thongs became flip flops, but nowadays I'd imagine that a person would feel weird wearing thongs on their feet...

Yeah, weird again. Time to stop typing. Happy birthday, Wheat.

And where does Wheat fit on the scale of weird?...

Just changed the title

2011-11-23T12:09:00.001-07:00

I was about to go off on a rant about the reasons stupid people shouldn't be allowed to have kids, but I've changed my mind. Guess I'm just not up to working myself into a tizzy about stupidity today.

I will say, though, that if you're not willing to lead by example when it comes to road and parking lot safety, then you shouldn't be surprised when your child ends up being hit by a car because he had no concept of the fact that not all cars automatically stop. This was one incredibly stupid, entitle-minded woman ambling through the middle of our parking lot with her toddler son only sort of following her this morning, folks.

Anyway.

And now that I've said anyway, I don't really know what comes next. Yep, that's right. A week off and I didn't even bother to think of anything to blather about.

So, then...

um...

Sorry, work thing. Where was I?

Oh yeah. At um. Doesn't bode well for this edition of Randomly Typing Will Lead to an Idea, so maybe I'll just stop here. See you later.

So...

2011-11-22T12:33:00.001-07:00

To recap the past... geez, is it really a week:? Ok, the past week then:

- I had a birthday surprise. You're not getting any details.
- We had winter. I didn't get outside for a few days, got p.o'd about the whole thing, and watched way too much Silent Library. And no, I'm not proud of that last bit.
- I lost my voice. This sucks.

You know, I think that even if you're a fairly quiet person you'll have a tendency to want to talk to people when you finally get out after a few days of being housebound. When you finally get out after a few days of being housebound and attempting to hack up a lung, you end up getting TOTALLY FREAKING FRUSTRATED that your throat doesn't want to work. My life is allllll about the Strepsils at the moment. Good thing that I'm not programming, I guess. I'd have to do it at a whisper.

Which, I suppose, would at least amuse the kids.

One of the things that bugs me the most about having a screwed-up throat -- and I say this pretty much every time it happens, so bear with the reruns -- is that it reminds me just how often I sing. I mean, I sing all the time. I sing instead of mumbling. I try not to sing in the office, especially if Wheat's in (seems only polite to make it less like he shares the office with a malfunctioning radio), but even with that I apparently sing when I'm doing manual tasks like sharpening pencils or photocopying. I say apparently because i don't really realise it... until I open my mouth and all that comes out is a squeak.

Like, for example, today.

Ah well. Throat lozenges today (partly to remind myself to shut up as much as possible), tonight hopefully a little less coughing, and tomorrow?

Well, I'm not going to push it.

And I'll try my best just to hum...

dammit.

42

2011-11-15T13:48:00.001-07:00

Some of my two fans will think that they know all about today's post title.

Ok, then.

----------

I have to be honest -- I don't really have the head for a post right now. I'm in the midst of one of the most frustrating parts of my job, and it doesn't put me in the mood for much of anything. It's called... THE NEWSLETTER. Yeah, that should have come with a DUN DUN DUUUUUUN...

I edit the Centre's quarterly newsletter. Yep, I do. We're in the business of communicating, you know. Communicating in many ways except, apparently, by writing. Between pulling teeth to get actual submissions within a week or two of the deadline and then trying to wrangle any sort of recognisable English out of what I receive (ok, to be fair? Not all of them. We do have one or two people who can write without my magical -- ha! -- editorial makeovers), the newsletter equals one big headache for Yours Proofreaderly.

I'm done working on the newsletter for today, though. The newsletter is a thing to be taken in small doses lest you pass out from bashing your head against the desk once too often.

Too dramatic, do you think? Well, it's pretty darned close to that.

Anyway. Today's pointless photo is of snow sliding down the window of Dirty Moe, who's still living at my father's place because I haven't sold it yet. Today's post title? Mind your own business. And now I think I'll just head off in a huff, if you don't mind.

Hmm. That sounds like a potential car name if there ever was one. Huff. I kind of like it...

Pointless photo of the day:

2011-11-14T13:41:00.001-07:00

That'll have to be it for today, I'm afraid. I was out at a school this morning, and I have at least a bazillion things that need doing this week. In other words, don't expect too much blather in the next little while.

I was wordy enough on the weekend for three blatherers, wasn't I?

Things

2011-11-13T11:07:00.001-07:00

But first...

I have a ratty pink blanket that I put over the sofa bed in my old room here at my father's place when it's folded up but not actually being used as a sofa. It looks like heck, yes, but it does have the advantage of keeping the cat hair off of the sofa if the cats decide to use it.

The pink blanket works.

Or, you know...

Not.

Way to go, Max.

----------

And now, things.

Material things, I mean.

No doubt it's a sign of getting older, but I'm starting to find that I don't really care about most things. I don't have to have many things. My cell phone's pretty much five years old now because I don't care if I have the latest one. My wardrobe? Well, my wardrobe probably suffers from the fact that I wear a uniform shirt at work. If I didn't I might have to have more wardrobe-y things, true, but I still probably wouldn't have the absolute latest wardrobe things. My television isn't HD, but it works well. My apartment is a one-room with a horrid 70s carpet, but it fits my books and my art stuff and my instruments and has a balcony for my planters, so it'll do. I could go on, but it would be in much the same vein. My life definitely isn't about the latest and greatest things.

Anyone with thing ambition is probably cringing right now, or at least wondering how a person can live that way. Don't I want things? Well, sure. There's lots of things that I see on television that I know would be nice to have, but I don't need them. I don't intend to go into debt for them. I can do without them. I'm not amaterialistic by any means; I just have my own priorities. As my boss said once when we were laughing about the fact that the person who does much of the looking-after of the work blog and twitter account and maintains two blogs of her own doesn't even have a computer at home, " you just haven't bought into it, have you?"

I guess. Either that, or I like the way my life is without adding more things.

When I first moved away from home I used to make mental lists of the things I would save in case of a fire. The list used to be pretty darned long, I'll admit, and probably would have resulted in multiple trips and my eventual death from smoke inhalation. Now? My personal ID, I suppose. Enough clothes to make sure I wasn't freezing to death as I stood outside watching my things going up in flames. Maybe, just maybe, and only if I had time to think about it, a small stuffed bunny...

Ah, there we go. Here's where we hit what things matter. The aforementioned bunny? Just a silly Easter gift my mother gave me just before she died. It was an impulse buy at the grocery store and there's nothing special about it. I wouldn't mourn it if it did disappear, but if I thought about it I might save it. And maybe my grandmother's topaz rings... but again, it honestly wouldn't kill me if I couldn't manage it.

The things that matter to me are the things that have associations, but if the things go away it doesn't mean that the memories do, right?

The other day I was drawing an old conch shell that came down through my other grandmother's family... oh, here. Rather than my typing the whole thing out again, let me just link to the post on the other blog and you can see for yourself if you're so inclined. Anyway, I've told my father that I specifically want the conch shells (juuust in case he ever planned to get rid of them for some reason). They're in my room at the moment, actually, since I'm considering taking them home to do a few more drawings of them. The old conch is a piece of family history. Continuity. A reminder of my childhood. Would I be upset if it disappeared? For a little while, yes.

And then I'd move on.

It's a thing.

Now, admittedly, there have been happenings in my life that have given me the current thingless attitude, most of which I don't want to mention because they're personal (and in one case fairly painful). I'll also concede that it's easier for a single person who plans on remaining single to not care whether she has anything to pass on to her nonexistent children. I just wish, though, that a few more people could find a way to be less thing-y (ok, that sounded funny even to me). Too many people argue over things. Too many relationships have been wrecked by things. Too many of us are in financial hell because of things. And you know what? In the end, they're just things.

And if things are all you have? Well, I guess you learn to be happy in your things.

I'd rather be happy in me.

Kind of a personal thing.

And now... a word from our sponsors

2011-11-12T11:32:00.001-07:00

Today's pointless photo? It snowed last night. I needed some spring.

Ok, topic. We're going to talk (briefly, I hope) about commercials today. In numbered bullet form, even, because that's what I'm in the mood for.

1. I'm not going to ask is it just me? because I've already been asking around and people tend to agree with me, so I'm just going to say it outright: Stop being so freaking aggressive with your Christmas commercials, advertisers. We get it. In your world Christmas shopping season starts the second after Halloween (if not before), but somehow this year's crop of festive holiday buy-me bulltweedle seems like it's Completely. Bashing. Me. Over. The. Head. I'm finding myself starting to wince a bit at the sound of (albeit, highly commercialised) Christmas carols... and I love Christmas carols. I have a huge collection of Christmas carols. I usually have to force myself to wait until December to start singing Christmas carols (you know -- in order to keep from driving everyone around me completely bonkers). If someone like me is already getting the make-it-stop reflex, I think that's a sign that you should, collectively, rethink your advertising strategy. And speaking of rethinking strategy...

2. Why are Dairy Queen commercials either completely stupid or completely annoying? For years we had to put up with the creepy disembodied mouth, and now we've got a campaign whose designers looked at the success of the intriguingly-weird Old Spice ads (which, incidentally, have now taken a turn for the completely stupid...) and decided that riding the intriguingly-weird train would be a fantastic idea. Well, it might be... if the commercials were intriguingly weird. They're not. They're annoying. And slightly creepy. Maybe they wanted to keep a bit of the creepy strain just in case people missed the mouth? I dunno.

3. Sticking with fast food, I'm kind of wishing that the current A & W ad didn't feature the catchy bad singing. Don't get me wrong -- I've actually enjoyed the ongoing campaign (I'm talking about the ones featuring Allen Lulu as the manager and Ryan Beil as... well, Ryan), which is saying a lot because I have a short attention span for a lot of ongoing campaigns -- but with this latest one I find my brain singing That's enough, that's enough, that's enough in pseudo-mariachi a little too often. Well sold, fellas.

4. All this food stuff is reminding me that I should go have lunch, so let me just mention one more long-term campaign that has somehow managed to not have me beating my head against the wall in NOT THAT GUY AGAIN angst. Thom Sharp. Fountain Tire. Let's face it, that actor is really, really good at what he does. He'd have to be to not be driving me nuts after all of this time.

I suppose in a way that's the main thing I ask from commercials. Just please don't drive me nuts, ok? Is that too much?

Oh all right: that, and don't make me hate Christmas carols.

Please.

Eleventh hour of the eleventh day

2011-11-11T12:29:00.001-07:00

So, on this hot-off-the-camera apparently pointless photo, you'll see the random gaggle of stuff that hangs around the base of my monitor here at work. Paper shredder, tape dispenser, tissue box (an indispensable part of life for Yours Nasally), craft made by one of the staff for our usual Saturday craft activity, assorted weird toys (I get a kick out of seeing what people choose to fidget with when they're standing in the office), post-it notes, poppy...

Yeah, you've probably already guessed -- if you're from a Commonwealth country, that is -- that the poppy doesn't usually sit on my desk. I'd only just taken it off of my coat, you see, since eleven o'clock has passed.

I'm kind of torn about Remembrance Day, to be honest. On the one hand, I like to see people wearing poppies. Even if a person's doing it only because it's "the thing", there's always a chance that it might make someone stop and think for a moment. I think that the commemoration of those who served is important. I think that Lest We Forget needs to be more than just a motto.

On the other hand, I'm working today instead of commemorating. I haven't been to a service in years. Oh sure, I'll generally have the national service on the television if I happen to be home on Remembrance Day morning, but I can't really say that I observe my own personal two minutes of silence. I worry that commemoration turns too easily into glorification, and war is a stupid, wasteful thing (for both the servicemen and the civilians involved) that should never be glorified.

And on the other hand...

Yep. I have three hands today. Told you I was a bit torn.

The third hand? The fact that I wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for war. My Canadian grandfather met my English grandmother when he was serving in World War II. My father was born in England. I never knew my grandfather since he died when my father was a teenager, but his war service is the reason I'm here.

I've just noticed how many times I've used variations of the word service in this post. Memorial services, services to a country... isn't it a shame that we as a species haven't figured out a way for men (and women these days) to serve their country without leading to the memorial kind of service?

Anyway. I should get back to work. How to end my annual Remembrance ramble (as in, I'm sure if you searched the archives you'd find much the same blather every 11/11)? I don't know. Maybe I'll just say that I make sure to wear a poppy every year (and pay for it too, by the way), and I suppose you can draw your own conclusions from there.

----------

One quick comment about the 11-11-11 thing that the interwebs seem to think is so exciting: Yeah, I guess. It's a little less exciting when you think about how arbitrary our current system of numbering days, months, and years is, but... yeah, I guess.

Really?

2011-11-10T13:18:00.001-07:00

I so love it when I've not been around the blog for a while, then finally get a chance to sit down and post, and... nothing.

No, really. I love having a totally blank blog. It makes blogging so incredibly worthwhile.

Or, you know, not.

Anyway. I have nothing, my last couple of days have given me nothing (but complaints, and I'm just not in the mood to whinge), and HAVE A POINTLESS PHOTO BECAUSE THAT'S ALL YOU'RE GETTING OUT OF ME.

I'll try a little harder tomorrow, I guess.

Quick post because I've been having issues

2011-11-04T13:36:00.001-06:00

I meant computer issues, although we all know that I have plenty of other ones besides. Maybe not quite as many as the squirrel who keeps storing spruce cones in the bird bath...

Anyway. I need to get back to work, which sucks because I actually had a post. Short version, then:

- first snowfall
- I hate winter
- my new car is taller than my old car
-I'm short.
- I've never had a car that decides how best to winter-drive before
- I hate winter
- cold rash sucks

I'll try to remember to elaborate if it seems worthwhile the next time I have time. For now, though, back to work. Weekend off from the computer for me, so I'll see you Monday or Tuesday.

Weird things that are happening in my life

2011-11-03T13:35:00.001-06:00

1. I'm getting most of my news -- especially breaking news -- from our work Twitter feeds. Twitter. Seriously? Seriously. At least I can say that the news is coming from actual news feeds...

2. I'm old enough now that my reaction when hearing that a former colleague is celebrating the birth of her first grandchild wasn't "oh how great for her" or anything like that. No, it was WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING, BEING OLD ENOUGH TO HAVE GRANDCHILDREN?

3. I slept for six and a half hours last night. That never happens. Well, except for last night, apparently.

4. I got excited by the fact that my new car has automatic headlights. I, um, never get excited about cars at all, and now I'm excited that I don't have to flick a switch? Someone needs to have her priorities examined.

The new car, by the way, still doesn't have a name. Maybe it'll grow into one? My dad suggested one based on the name of the dealership since that's how Dirty Moe got its name. Sounds a bit forced, though.

5. I'm actually pondering my new car's name.

6. I chose wasabi peas (mmm. Wasabi peas) over actual lunch simply because I was too lazy to go get actual lunch.

Oh, wait. That one's not so much weird as it is normal lately. And I suppose that's weird in itself right there. And on that weirdly moebius-strip moment (look it up if you don't know. Then make a few. They're kind of fun), I think I should probably get back to work already.

That part? Not really weird. I often should get back to work...

Pointless photo of the day:

2011-11-02T14:47:00.001-06:00

That's all. Just letting you know that I'm still around, really.

Niche

2011-10-30T11:11:00.000-06:00

Today's pointless photo isn't exactly pointless (oh no... pumpkin time...) and it isn't exactly new. I took this one a few years ago, and it's one of the coolest spider pictures I've ever been lucky enough to take. It's also the one I'm currently using as my Blogger profile photo, if it looks familiar.

What we've got here is a Goldenrod Spider defending her egg sac. She laid her eggs on that chokecherry leaf and then wrapped it up protectively with silk, giving it that triangular shape. She would have guarded the sac until she died, giving the spiderlings as good a chance as possible to survive early predation.

Lots of them would have been eaten anyway, but that's the way nature works.

Spiders have been on my mind a bit (well, a bit more than usual. My two fans already know that I have a thing for spiders) because of my doodle for this week's Illustration Friday word. The word was scary, and if you're so inclined you can find my take on the other blog. You'll probably notice, though, that spider = scary wasn't something that I really had my heart in.

Listen, I know that spiders are scary for a lot of people. I get that. I find them beautiful, but if you've already made up your mind that they're scary then my finding beauty in them isn't going to do a thing for you except convince you even further that I'm weird. Whatever. It doesn't matter.

What does matter, though, is the people who seem to equate scary with needing to be destroyed. There are plenty of them out there, sadly. Spiders and bugs scare me -- squish them! Snakes scare me -- call the exterminator! That's the kind of thinking that makes me more than a little depressed, to be honest.

You see, all of those scary things have their niches. Their usefulnesses. Their places where they belong in the system. Without them we run into a whole boatload of trouble.

Example? Well, imagine a world without spiders. You'd better start liking insects a whole bunch, because there's going to be a massive amount more of them. So let's just get rid of the insects? Ok, then. Do you like bluebirds? Or chickadees? Or woodpeckers? All insect-eaters, and you've in effect got rid of them too.

It sounds trite to say, I know, but everything's connected. Everything has a job, as I sometimes put it to my students at the nature centre. If one thing doesn't do its job, it makes it hard for the next thing to do its job, and so on and so on and so on. The tricky part for us is that even though we're also part of the system we like to believe that we're not. That wouldn't matter so much, except that we've given ourselves an awful lot of power over systems that maybe we'd be better off leaving to themselves. We decide that one job -- say, eating bugs -- isn't really all that important, so we remove (either inadvertently or on purpose. Both happen) the "pest" that's eating bugs. Then, when we're overrun with bugs, we bring in a new predator to try to create a new balance. And when that new balance turns out to mean that the new predator doesn't have any predators of its own and happily creates its own overrun?

Incidentally, I'm not really of the school that thinks that Seven-spot Ladybirds are evil. It's just that we don't know the full extent of what their introduction has done to the North American ladybird population.

For something much more sinister that was caused by human intervention, however, may I present the Cane Toad?

I don't want to go on a full-scale interpreter rant here, so I'm going to cut this short. Or, erm, at least a lot shorter than it could easily have been. Let me just end by saying that if you're scared of something, fine. Be scared of it. Whomever knows that there are plenty of things out there that I'm scared of. Just don't assume that scary means lacking value or importance, and that scary things should all go away. Sometimes it's even scarier to find out what we're left with after the scary things are gone...

Pants

2011-10-29T11:12:00.000-06:00

Excuse me for getting a rather juvenile giggle out of the fact that my North American readers will be getting a fairly different idea from today's post title than my UK readers are.

Yeah. I'm a five-year-old.

Oh, and new photos (believe it or not) will actually be showing up soon. Assuming that anything on the camera is worth editing, of course.

Anyway. Pants. Yes, I really do want to talk pants. It'll be starting with the trouser variety, but we'll see where it goes from there.

I've been a bit lacking in clothing lately. I won't go into the bra situation (you're welcome), but my last pair of jeans gave up the ghost a few weeks ago and since I've been too lazy to shop I've been largely existing on a couple of pairs of twills. I of course knew that couldn't go on indefinitely (no one can live on light colours alone) and had been planning to get something else... but then I got a car instead.

I might have mentioned the car.

Now, I'm not saying that car payments are going to preclude me from dressing myself. It's just that the part about knowing that I have the car payments makes me a little less excited to be spending money on other things. Not that I ever get excited about spending money on clothes (or shoes. I so don't get that whole every woman loves shoes thing. I need shoes that I'm capable of walking in -- not always the easiest thing with my ankle -- and that work ok for the things that I do in my job. That's it. Oh, and something I can wear all winter without falling flat on my arse in the snow, naturally), but I'm incredibly less excited right now.

Cut to me thinking yet again about cleaning out my closet.

I've been in the same crappy one-room apartment for yeeears now, and while I'm definitely not a hoarder I'll admit to losing track of exactly what I have in it now and then. I think that's human nature, isn't it? You stay in one place for a while, and your stuff tends to build up a bit. Anyway, recently I gained a couple of new appliances (long story, but no doubt I'll tell it at some point), and it's led to the chain reaction where can I put this? effect. I could put this here if I moved this here, but then I'd have to move this here, and where am I going to put this? Ah, the fun of a small living space.

While looking for the next here, it occurred to me that a lot of this could be solved if I'd finally get around to cleaning out some old clothes. I do it every once in a while... all right, honesty time. I do it every few years whether it kills me or not, so by now the layer of clothes that I don't or can't wear anymore is getting a little thick. Ok. Clothes, then. Start with the main closet even though it's the linen shelves (read: everything shelves. Small apartment, remember?) that really need doing. Dig to the back where it's hard to reach because of the weird angle created by the tacky folding door. That's where all the unusable stuff seems to migrate to. Find... eight pairs of pants on two organiser-style hangers that you sort of forgot you had. Sigh at the waste because even though you kind of need them now, it's more than likely none of them fit anymore. Whomever knows how long they've been there, right? Look at the size tags before bagging them for the Sally Ann. Find... hey. That might fit. Unexpectedly spend a few minutes trying on various forgotten trousers. Realise that three pairs actually fit pretty well, and another couple would do in a pinch.

Consider yourself a complete and utter moron for burying completely serviceable clothing.

Oh, and for the fashionistas among my two fans (are there any? If so, why are you following me?) who are now cringing at the idea of my wearing pants that are years out of date? Denims, mostly. Dark denims, and a couple of pairs of black dress pants. I guess not being trendy has the benefit of buying "classics" instead, since you could easily find the exact same styles out there right now.

Now if I could only have the same luck with bras...

----------

Now, back to the whole pants thing. Being from Canada I have no problem with using pants and trousers interchangeably. However, having gained some of my vocabulary from my English grandmother (she was my babysitter when my mother went back to work before my brother was born. I'm sure that I learned a fair amount of my English from her even though I was much too young to realise it at the time. Babies are language sponges, after all), I'm fully aware that I wouldn't find myself wearing denim pants in England. Fairly uncomfortable, that. For any of my two fans who aren't with me yet, pants aren't... exactly outerwear... ok, think underpants if you're still not with me.

When I had my children's choir years ago I occasionally had to send home notes to the parents reminding them of what the kids had to wear for concert attire, and being aware that several of the families had come from the UK I always made a point of stating black trousers instead of black pants to avoid any confusion (or, to be honest, inadvertent amusement). Things were fine until the day I had one of the other parents pull me aside and ask what kind of special pants her son was supposed to wear. Seems my use of trousers instead of pants had her thinking that I was looking for some sort of uppity tuxedo wear or something.

Which, to confuse matters even more, would have been fancy dress to the UK parents.

Sometimes I really feel like an English-to-English translating dictionary, you know?

That totally pisses me off

2011-10-28T12:33:00.000-06:00

I did warn you about the current lack of new pointless photos, you'll remember. Don't worry, though -- last night I took a couple of shots of my jewellery... totally not kidding...

Anyway. I did warn you about the photos, but I suppose I should have put a warning on today's title as well? Sort of sorry to those of my two fans who were dismayed at seeing a slightly colourful word up there. Sort of sorry because I do generally make an effort to tone down my language so that's what some of you are used to. Not completely sorry, though, because those of you who actually know me realise that the language in the title is pretty tame for me.

I'm not shy about my wordage, is what I'm saying. Oh, I try to use language that's appropriate to a situation, of course, but if I don't have to police myself I don't.

Anyway. This wasn't supposed to be a language post.

What was it supposed to be? Mostly just a comment on what the theme of my week seems to have been, that's all. My brain is currently wired to be annoyed, I guess. Annoyed at my neighbour's music, annoyed at the people around here who wait for everyone else to clean up, annoyed at a booking mistake, annoyed that the printer isn't currently working and I have two things that absolutely need to be printed out for the weekend shifts, annoyed at the idiot on staff who shoved a porcupine study skin on a random shelf with no form of protection around it...

Seriously? What person with a brain just throws a porcupine on a shelf without even a bag to cover it?

The whole thing just drives me nuts.

The Ontario office would say that it's more of a short putt, but whatever.

Whoa. Wasabi peas. I love them, but that last one went an awfully long way towards clearing my sinuses.

Um, yeah. Back to being pissed off. Or whatever phraseology you prefer, I suppose. I do understand that it's probably a function of my brain trying to get itself back together after such a span of being largely off-line, but it sure seems as though the world made a concerted effort to turn me green this week (erm... Hulk reference, not environment). Kind of makes a person both wonder about and dread what's going to happen next.

And how much it'll tick me off, of course.

Ah well. Back to work for me. Cross your fingers that the printer has decided that it's sufficiently added to my po'd index already and will be working before I have to leave. Here's hoping, anyway.

I... got nothing

2011-10-27T13:02:00.001-06:00

And that's even after trying to give the whole "topic" thing a bit of effort for a change.

Just not into it today, I guess.

It doesn't help that I feel so draggy. I know I've been whining about this for a while now (tooooooo looooong) but I'd just like Whomever's in charge to know that I get the point and I'm done with feeling yucky if that's ok. Don't get me wrong -- I'm definitely feeling better. I've just got that tail-end why isn't this over yet? thing going on that doesn't make me especially good company.

Even for myself. I'm usually pretty good at liking my own company, but I'm sick of myself at the moment. Sad, that.

It doesn't help any that I have a mystery pain (well, more of a dull ache than a pain) that's nearly on the verge of turning me all hypochondriacal even though it's 99.9% guaranteed to be nothing. It's just one damned thing after another, as my grandmother would have said.

No, really. She said that a lot. My grandmother was a bit... different, I suppose.

Anyway. This is plenty of wordage for not having anything to say, so it's time to stop typing before this becomes a post. Leaving...

now.

Something or other. I really have no idea.

2011-10-26T12:35:00.001-06:00

I suppose that I need to get out and take some new pictures, don't I? But... but... things are so dull and pre-winter here now. And boring. I swear, I'm going to end up taking photos of my junk jewellery yet.

So. Um. blog post.

I'm not sure that I remember how to do that.

Well, let's see. State of health? Somewhat better today. Digestion's settling down (tmi? Oh, believe me. You haven't heard anything), but I'm still stuffy, headachey, and tired. Ah well. At least I'm upright. Upright, but in a weird enough mood to have brought myself to giggly tears while watching a "beautiful" video about people who are putting up swings in public areas just so that people can enjoy them. The project? Nothing wrong with it. People like swings. What had me laughing was the idea that the people who were putting them up are far, far too nice. I'd've put up at least one in front of a building or something because you just know that there's someone out there who'd try it out without realising the consequences. Thump. Ow. Thump. Ow...

Wheat, by the way, now officially thinks that I'm completely insane.

Where was I? Oh yeah, trying to type myself into a topic. Typing could be a topic, since it's a bit of a difficulty at the moment. We're switching out computers here at work, you see. Sort of an internal upgrade. I'm now using Wheat's old one because it was a few years newer than mine, my old one is replacing one that's even older than mine; that sort of thing. It may sound wonky for anyone who's used to getting brand new stuff every couple of years, but for us it saves money and cuts down on the e-waste (important for a nature centre, really) to cycle things while they're still usable. Anyway, for me this means I get more speed and more capacity than I had, but it also means a new keyboard since my old one had the wrong connector. And that? Not a huge problem since this one will be fine, but it does serve to show me yet again that if you give this girl a new -- or different -- keyboard her fingers suddenly decide that they don't know how to type in English.

Which is odd, since English is their first and really only language.

Helllllooooo back button, is what I'm saying.

And with that, can we call it a post? It's five times more post than you've had in recent days, after all.

Yeah, I think that consensus is that this is, in fact, a post.

Later.

So I was going to post

2011-10-25T14:46:00.003-06:00

... and then I realised that I wasn't even in the mood to find a pointless photo. Sorry, folks. I'm dealing with phase two of the crud, apparently, and there hasn't been much food in my system for the past couple of days.

I'd promise tomorrow, but I think at this point I'd just rather wait and see.

Ain't we got fun?

I have a headache

2011-10-21T12:42:00.001-06:00

Yeah, I know that's probably not news to anyone who's followed me for more than a day since I often have headaches (thanks, Mom, for giving me your screwed-up neck), but this is one of those sudden I-have-no-idea-why-I-have-a-headache headaches. It's kind of frustrating.

Maybe I need to go eat something.

I guess I should have brought lunch...

Ah well. I'll be out of here soon enough. Oh, and I'm taking the weekend off from the internet, so try not to miss me excessively.

Anyway.

Topic.

I don't actually have one. Is that a problem?

Oh, I suppose we could talk problem. Minor problem, but one of those of course I should have predicted it type of things. I had to scrape the car windows this morning since we had rain yesterday and then freezing temperatures overnight. This is the first time I've scraped the new car, remember (remember my new car? I have one...). The new car seems to have a pretty decent heater on it, I now know, which is good for two reasons. Reason A is that I don't do well with cold, as my two fans can tell you. Reason B? Well, there's where we hit problem. It's a good thing that the car has a decent heater because APPARENTLY I'M TOO SHORT TO SCRAPE THE WINDOWS.

Yeah, bugger. And I should have seen it coming. The new car sits juuust that much higher than the old car so I can't reach the middle of the windshield with my current scraper. Don't get me wrong -- I can reach most of it, and definitely enough to give clear vision. I can't quite reach the final little strip, though, and that bugs me. I get annoyed by people who don't clean off their cars properly in the winter, you know. I mean those people who scrape tiny little patches and then pretend that they can see well enough out of them to be ok until the car warms up enough to take care of the rest. They're usually the same people who don't bother to clean off any of the snow from the tops of their vehicles, because naturally it will all fly off once they start driving.

Yeah. Fly off in chunks that hit the windshield of the car behind them, most likely.

The reason I get so annoyed by the lazy scrapers is that I don't do well with the cold (for those new to the program, I mean don't do well physically. Look up cold-induced urticaria, if you're curious. And let me tell you, it's an absolute joy to live with through an Alberta winter), but I can still generally manage to clean off my own bloody car to the point where it's not a hazard for everyone else around me. And if I can do that, then I'm afraid that in my book no one else has an excuse to be scraper-lazy.

And frankly, I don't want to be seen as scraper-lazy myself, even if it's because I can't reach the middle of the windshield.

Solution? Well, I'll look for a longer scraper.

That was easy.

And easily time to get back to work so that I'm not here too long today. As I said above, no internet for me this weekend. Have a good one -- see you Monday, most likely.

No, I still don't have anything

2011-10-20T11:13:00.001-06:00

Feeling a bit better, though, she says quietly so as not to jinx anything. I've still got a headful of crud, but at least I'm not feeling like I should be going directly back to bed (do not pass go. Do not collect $200).

Ok. I just got distracted by googling Monopoly, which should tell you a lot about the state of my brain today.

So... um... grapes?

Seriously, I have nothing. How about my trying for coherency tomorrow instead, then?

Works for me.

Brain no work

2011-10-19T11:36:00.001-06:00

This is officially a lack-of-post. Sleep hasn't been going all that well the past couple of days, and I seem to be suffering the return of the cold from hell. Not sure if I'll have a voice left after this afternoon's program.

Needless to say, none of this puts me much in blather mood. So...enjoy the vine, I guess.

Pointless photo of the day:

2011-10-18T15:14:00.001-06:00

That's all you're getting today, I'm afraid. Busy.

Busy tomorrow too, so my two fans may be enjoying this cat for a while...

Asparagus tree

2011-10-17T10:25:00.002-06:00

I'd be willing to bet that this is one of the only asparagus tree posts on the entire internet. And it will be about the asparagus tree.

It probably won't be very interesting, but it'll be about the asparagus tree.

Today's pointless photo is of my father's asparagus tree.Not the greatest picture, true, but I wanted to make sure that I had a shot of it before it completely goes limp with the frost.

In case anyone's wondering, that's a pretty average sized sunflower next to the asparagus tree. That should give you a sense of scale, at least.

So what's an asparagus tree? Oh, it's just happy asparagus, that's all.

You see, my dad doesn't care for asparagus too much. The asparagus was planted when my mother was still alive, and it's just basically been there since. When Mom was around it wasn't producing more than enough for just a taste or too, but in recent years? It's kind of got ridiculous. Just like the rhubarb.

Hang on. Let me see if I can find the rhubarb. I didn't take a picture of it this year, but I know I posted one of last year's rhubarb tree... Ok, here it is. And it looked much the same this year until Dad hacked it down.

So what's with the killer rhubarb and the asparagus tree? Well, we've had a couple of unusually wet years in a row, and that plus the age of the plants has given them the opportunity of establishing really, really good root systems, apparently. As a result they're both very vigorous growers now, and since they don't get used as fast as they grow you end up with inadvertent trees.

Um... the end?

I told you that this wouldn't be very interesting, didn't I? Looks like I was right, then. Ah well. I'll try for interesting tomorrow.

I won't succeed, but I'll try...

So I got this car... oh, right.

2011-10-16T12:31:00.000-06:00

I used that title already, didn't I?

Oh well. Here it is (the car, I mean), anyway. Not a great photo, but I'm too lazy to move the thing into better light just for a blog shot.

Colour? Carbon grey, officially. Model? Pontiac Vibe (otherwise known on the internet car forums, apparently, as why the hell did GM stop making this car?). Name?

It doesn't have one. It's a car.

I should elaborate a bit on the name thing, really. I named my first car very facetiously, because I'm pretty much not a car person and also not the type who would anthropomorphise a car. A car is a car is a car, and as long as it's working and reliable (and, erm, not completely homely. Ok, I can be as shallow as the next person) that's as far as my thoughts go about it. When someone asked me what I called my first car it got a name on the spur of the moment. I told him it was Maurice because it was a Cavalier. Cavalier...Chevalier... same word, different languages. A play on words rather than a name, I guess.

Now, I'll admit that my second car had an actual name, but it was entirely accidental. Again, I was asked what I was going to call it. Again, I thought it was a car and didn't need a name. I said that it was Moe, simply because that was part of the dealer's name. Moe the car.

Moe the car became Dirty Moe over the years. I can be a little bit neglectful of car washing on occasion.

The new car? Does have a wheel (four, even. Five, if you count the spare) (and the wheel might look vaguely familiar. See? There was a method to the silliness last week) but it doesn't have a name.

Yet.

Judging by my track record, it'll have one eventually.

I've had a few suggestions. Wheat says Neo or Keeanu, since it's a Matrix in disguise. I...don't think I could drive a Keeanu. The Ontario office says Molly, to which I said that I don't drive girl cars.

Actually, I hardly ever use feminine names for inanimate objects. I wonder why? Even my plants have male names.

And yes, I'm just as serious about naming plants as I am about naming cars.

So what do I think it should be called? I dunno. It'll come if it's going to, I guess. I toyed with calling it Lionel just to see who knew their jazz, but I suppose that's a little pretentious. For now, it's the car. Or the debt.

Good debt, though, if there is such a thing. It was time for a new car. Dirty Moe served his time, but after ten years I think all I'm going to miss about Dirty Moe is (ironically) its name.

Incidentally, would anyone out there in blogland be interested in buying a used Dirty Moe? I happen to know where you could find one...

You know what sucks?

2011-10-15T11:51:00.001-06:00

When you're having a massive chocolate craving and all the bookstore at work has is "candy bars"

Candy bars are called candy bars instead of chocolate bars for a reason, folks. There's hardly any actual chocolate in them. Now? I have a sugar rush, but I still want chocolate.

Yeah, that worked well.

Anyway. This is just a quick post (a quick, complainy post) to get me back in the post groove in case I don't get around to making a real post tonight. Today's photo? Same cats as yesterday, obviously, but this time I let the flash do its work.

I kind of like the one in the dark better, to be honest.

But I'm weird that way.

So I got this car...

2011-10-14T15:23:00.002-06:00

The photo, of course, is not of the car. It's of the cats. The reddish light is the camera's infrared sensor, because I got bored and covered up the flash to see what effect it would give.

Anyway. I got this car.

I've had it for a couple of days, actually, but it's been a busy week (busy, did I mention?) and the blog sort of fell by the wayside.

Um, that was a statement that I really didn't have to make, seeing as all you'd have to do is look back at the recent lack of posts to figure out that I haven't been posting.

Anyway. I got this car.

I will now answer what apparently are the two most important questions about the car, based on what my friends have asked me: it's dark grey, and it doesn't have a name yet.

Seriously, people. My first new car in ten years and people want to know if it has a name? I'm beginning to think that my priorities are wrong or something. I thought that people might like to know what model it is, or what size engine it has, or how it drives, but no. Colour and name.

Ah well.

I will, no doubt, be telling you more about the car as I get to know it better, but for now I should get back to work. Just thought I'd take a moment to let my two fans know that all the silly car references in the past few posts were, in fact, leading to something.

A question, in fact.

The question would go something like: who the hell decides to test-drive and buy a car in the same week that she's had to stay home from work because she's been too sick to function? The answer would be me, it seems.

Let's hope that I don't regret this car...

Still here...

2011-10-14T12:24:00.001-06:00

It's just been a busy week.

I'll try to post an actual post post after my program's done this afternoon if I have time (and any sort of mood). If not? Well, tomorrow. Or the next day. Or sometime.

No, really.

Lack of posts of the next few days

2011-10-11T16:18:00.002-06:00

Busy day today. Busy (and... big? I dunno) day tomorrow. This all equals no blog content for the next couple of days, as I imagine you figured out. See you when I can.

Incidentally, should a person be happy to be going into debt? I suppose it depends on the reason for the debt in the end, doesn't it.

Later.

Thud

2011-10-10T11:11:00.002-06:00

That would be the sound of me hitting the blather wall.

I've tried to think of a blog post. Really I have. There hasn't even been the distraction of work (since this is a holiday) or internet radio (since I haven't had it on). I guess that after yesterday's lengthy ramble -- and later weirdness -- I'm just out, temporarily.

Besides, I can't deny the fact that I'm not over this latest bout of crud yet. I'm definitely feeling better and I might even have enough voice for tomorrow's two programs, but the energy level certainly isn't where I'd like it to be and the head's still full enough that I've been ending the last few days with headaches.

So... um...

Amaryllis?

This is the other one that's been flowering. Each of them is currently sending up second flower stocks, so even if the third one that might flower decides it's not worth it I'll have colour for a little while yet. That's kind of nice.

Yep.

You know, I really think that this is all I have today. Time to stop typing, then.

Yep.

Pretty much pointless post

2011-10-09T18:59:00.003-06:00

It's a wheel, of course.

Well, I thought with all of this car talk you might like to see a wheel.

Or maybe I had too much turkey. That could be.

The pie wasn't at all bad, by the way...

Chapter 1438: Wherein, amongst other things, Dee's father buys her a pie

2011-10-09T11:17:00.000-06:00

We'll get to the pie in a moment. First, there's a couple of other things to take care of.

Other thing #1: Today's pointless photo features a Bad Cat. A slightly unusual Bad Cat. This particular Bad Cat isn't the most physically adept cat in the world, and while we know that she's capable of jumping up on things, it's generally after spending a good minute or so trying to gauge the jump. The other (Bad) Cat is always up on something or other, and has been known to sit on top of the fish tank now and then. BUT NOT ON THE FILTER. Sure, this particular filter isn't operating at the moment since Dad usually uses it as his backup in case the main pump stops, but still. If any Bad Cat could knock the whole system to pieces by accidentally slipping, it'd be this one. Bad Cat. Bad.

Other thing #2: Today's song, although I suppose I'd better give you a nudity warning. That bugs me, to be honest. I'm definitely on the side of those who think it's ridiculous that our society condones showing all kinds of graphic violence but completely freaks out at the sight of a nipple. I mean, everyone has nipples, right? What's the big deal? Having said that, this particular video has more than nipples, so if that sends you into hysterics don't bother to click the link.

If you do, though, I'll just say that the main reason for today's choice is that I find it really funny that a few years ago a car company chose it for their commercials. They must have heard "you've got a great car" and "I like you" and thought it would be perfect or something. Did they not notice that the very next line after the great car bit asks what's wrong with it today? The commercial always made me laugh, because it's so very common for ad companies to choose something that sounds "right" without bothering to find out the context of the song. If you're musically inclined at all it can be fun to play Let's Find the Inappropriate Song Choice, especially during the holidays.

Well, it's fun for me, anyway.

Speaking of holidays, it's time to talk pie.

Yes, finally.

It's Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada, and Dad and I will be having our turkey supper today. Since it's just the two of us we don't go to a big fuss, but we still manage to have a pretty decent meal. The turkey is small enough to fit in the rotisserie so we don't have the bother of oven-roasting (and besides, rotisserie turkey is only about fifty billion times better than oven-roasted. It stays moist, it's more evenly cooked, and, frankly, the taste tops any oven bird you'd care to show me), most of our fixings will be of the convenience variety; yeah, I know it's not gourmet, but as long as it tastes good that really doesn't matter to me.

One thing that seems to happen every year, however, occurs towards the end of the eating. I'll be enjoying my most-likely-too-big plateful, and it'll suddenly come to mind that it would have been nice to have a pumpkin pie for dessert. I'm a fan of pumpkin pie, you see. Actually I'm a fan of pie in general, so I guess it's kind of stupid that I've never made one. Stupid on the surface, anyway. In reality, it has a fair bit to do with the way I was brought up. The females in my mother's family had this weird sort of detente, you see. I've mentioned it before, but for those new to the program my mother's family was pretty competitive, and whether it was accidental or on purpose it seemed like the way to keep the peace on the feminine side was to not step on anyone else's talent. My grandmother canned, so my mother didn't. My grandmother knitted, so my mother crocheted. My grandmother made pies, so my mother made cookies.

As a result, I don't know how to make pie crust. Come to it, I'm sort of surprised that Mom ever taught me the whole cookie thing.

Anyway.

I've never made a pie. I could probably figure it out, but I've never tried. I don't usually regret it, but this time of year -- when it's too late, as I said above -- I find myself wishing that I'd made a pumpkin pie. Even if it meant the cop-out of a bought crust, I could still attempt the filling part, right? There's lots of recipes around. Heck... if I checked my mother's recipe box I might even find my grandmother's version. Every year, though, I don't think about it soon enough. And every year I find myself saying to my father that it would have been nice to have a pie.

Kind of pointless, really. Except.

Except that occasionally it gets results. When I came in to Dad's from work yesterday afternoon I opened the fridge to see what I could find for a quick lunch before we went out (more on that another day) and I saw A PIE. Seems that when Dad went down to get a few things for today's dinner he noticed the pies in the bakery and remembered that his idiot daughter bemoans her pieless state every single Thanksgiving, and so he bought me one.

He bought me a pie!

I know it doesn't seem like much, but hey! Pie! And who knows, it might even be a decent pie.

It occurs to me that this very wordy post has had a very anticlimactic ending... Let me see if I can find something to at least wrap it up a little bit. Ok, there you go. Slightly adult. No nudity.

You people and your nudity thing...

Even quicker post because now I'm really tired

2011-10-08T18:32:00.002-06:00

There's either going to be a lot less... or a lot more blather about cars on this blog in the near future. Just saying.

Quick post because I'm tired

2011-10-08T11:09:00.001-06:00

Another car thing, but this will be short: Have you ever noticed that when something (minor) goes wrong with a car, every other tiny (minor) thing that doesn't seem right -- that may have been happening for years but you didn't really pay attention to -- sets you completely on edge?

Maybe it's just me, then.

I wish I didn't have to have a car.

That's about it, really. Still not feeling wonderful, but slightly more functional. Apparently I'm just in that place where I can't ramble on uncomprehendingly but can manage to blather comprehensively. Or something. At this point, I guess I just don't feel like forcing it.

Later, then.

I'm so not going to describe my last few days

2011-10-07T13:20:00.000-06:00

I've been sick. Miss-work sick, unfortunately. Anything else I say will only bore the snot out of you (but not out of me, worst luck) and reach into the realm of hyperbole since I reeeally want to be all whiny on you folks but am doing my best to hold it all in.

Ignore the grammar (or lack of same) in that last sentence, please.

On the bright side? My amaryllises are flowering. Two out of the five at the moment, which, as much as I like them, is plenty for a one room apartment.

They're funny things, amaryllises. Most people around here buy them as largely disposable Christmas flowers. Oh, you can keep them beyond that, of course. And you can follow all the directions the gardening books will give you for keeping them over to the letter, and you'll likely get growth the next year.

Growth of leaves.

Flowers? In my experience, not so much.

When I was given my first amaryllis (I've never actually bought one, come to think of it. They've all been gifts) I was a good do-bee and tried everything they tell you to do to get flowers in the next year. I lifted the bulb, stored it carefully; all of those fussy things that you're supposed to coddle the plant with. The result? Nothing. The year after that? Nothing. The only reason I didn't just throw it out was that it seemed a shame, since it was still leafing out. That was the year, though, that I got lazy about dealing with the bulb and just threw the entire pot out onto the balcony for the summer.

I brought it in when it put up a flower stalk.

I mean, sure it was in September rather than the optimal decorating time of Christmas, but it was a flower.

I still have that bulb. It flowers every year. I've even split it once. Apparently these things are into benign neglect.

Actually... most of my plants that do well are into benign neglect even if the books say that they shouldn't be. Maybe plants just don't appreciate being fussed over? It's possible.

I've since been given two other amaryllises and have five pots in all because of division. They all just live with the weather and the heat on the balcony in summer and then get brought in when things get colder or if they start flowering, whichever comes first. Right now two are flowering, two probably won't because they're the two I split up this year, and one can't seem to make up its mind. Not a bad track record for plants that just sit in a corner all summer, don't you think?

Well, I think.

And the fact that I've just written an entire blog post about amaryllises?

Shows how little my brain has had to do (or has been willing to do, really) this week.

You didn't miss much.

Bye now.

In cars

2011-10-02T11:14:00.001-06:00

Today's pointless photo is not of cars, just so you know. It's of sunflower heads that have been scavenged by the chickadees. Since I chose the title I did, though, let's all take a moment for a technopop break...

Ok then. On to business. And I hope that I can keep this reasonably short because I was extremely wordy on both blogs yesterday. These things cost money, you know.

Well, all right, so they don't. I'll try to keep it short anyway.

I test-drove a car yesterday. It was a convenient thing to do, really, because one of the car companies (sorry boys, no free advertising) has a deal where, if your local dealership applies, they have a day where test-driving a car benefits a charity. In this case it was one of the schools in the town where I grew up, so Dad and I went down to the event and test-drove a car.

It was a convenient thing to do, did I mention? That's because I'm currently looking for a car.

Sigh.

Dirty Moe's not dead; don't worry about that. He's just getting on a bit and has had a couple of weird little things start happening. That's the kind of thing that leads to bigger weird things as a car gets older, so I decided that maybe it was time to ditch Dirty Moe before winter hits and the weird things start causing me worries. There's a problem with all of this, though.

I hate cars.

Well, maybe it's not quite hate. It's more that I only drive because I have to, I'm more or less indifferent when it comes to cars as long as they're working, and now I have to try to figure out what kind of car I should buy. This is going to suck.

It also sucks because I've been used to driving the same car for the last ten years or so, and I'm used to driving without a passenger. The idea of test-driving strange cars with an audience (an audience of one is still an audience, after all) makes me decidedly uneasy. So much so that yesterday I made Dad drive. Oh, I got brave enough to switch with him once we got on the road (even though the salesman was in the back seat. Um, yay me? I guess), but I sooo completely didn't want to drive that car when we first got down there.

Doesn't bode well for car shopping in general, does it?

Ah well. I did, after all, manage to get my olf self to do some driving in the end, and I didn't die either of nerves or embarrassment. That's breaking the ice, right? Geez, I hope so.

Anyway. I have a idea of things that I want, so that'll help. Nothing too big, preferably four-door just because it's easier to get out in small spaces, decent mileage, decent in snow (kind of a given in this country), reliable, not yellow... Um, that's about it, I guess. I'm easy to please, aren't I? I certainly hope so. The budget may not be quite so easy to please, but I guess I'll deal with that as I have to.

Cars. Bah. Who'd have 'em, anyway?

Chapter 1433: Wherein Dee tries to figure out what to post while waiting for a wash to dry

2011-10-01T11:07:00.002-06:00

I'm so not cut out for painting.It doesn't help that I have the brush skills of a five-year-old, of course, but even worse than that is the waiting. Waiting for things to dry. And waiting.

And then maybe some waiting.

It doesn't help that I'm playing around with something a little different than my usual today. Read that as: I have no bloody idea what I'm doing. It'll probably end up looking exactly like that, too. Ah well. No one says I have to post it if that's the case, right?

It'll be the case either way, sadly.

So. While we wait... I suppose we could enjoy the daylily? No daylilies at the moment, unfortunately. We're well past flowers here at this point. I took some new, depressingly fall, photos last night but I haven't had a chance to take them off the camera yet. I'm not expecting much, because it was just dusky enough that the camera thought everything needed a flash. Best I'm hoping for is slightly weird, to be honest, but I guess we'll see.

Now, about a post topic. Anyone have one?

Oh, wait. Maybe I actually do. How about charity mail?

I don't get a lot of gimme letters in the mail overall, mostly because I don't have a lot of money to donate. I pay pretty close attention to the ones I do get, though, and I often wonder what some of these non-profits are thinking that we'd like done with our donations. Personally, if I donate to something I'd like to see as much money as possible go to the actual something I've donated to. I know that there are always going to be administration costs and things like that involved, but I have a great deal of respect for outfits that do all they can to make sure that the percentages of money going straight to the cause are high. You're much more likely to get my attention, ironically, if it's obvious that you've done the respectable minimum you had to do to get my attention.

And on the other hand?

On the other hand is the example of unsolicited mail that I got the other day. Note that I say unsolicited. This is a charity that I've never donated to, have never had contact with before, and had only peripherally ever heard of. Should I be impressed that they (and I won't say who the they is. Sadly, there are enough non-profits doing stupid things like this that it could apply to at least a dozen), without my asking for it, sent me a complete Christmas package of a dozen Christmas cards, two note pads, a pen, a gift bag, package labels, and envelope stickers? The postage bill alone must have been something to see, really. What a burst of generosity from this unnamed charity.

My response?

Sorry, you lose.

The heartfelt form letter/donation form accompanying your elaborate notice-me gift just made me wonder exactly what my money would be going to. I'd love to give you something to help *insert cause here*, but I absolutely refuse to give anything to the cause of sending how many other people a set of Christmas stuff that they weren't expecting and probably won't even want.

What an annoying waste.

And do these ploys even work? Are enough people guilted into paying -- let's face it, it's paying rather than donating -- for unwanted packages like that to make it worthwhile for the charity? There must be, or we wouldn't be getting these "gifts". That's sad, don't you think? It just encourages more waste, and means less money going to things that really need it.

And charities wonder why people get gun-shy about handing over their money? Frankly, I think people should be.

As for me, I'll continue to give my meager amounts to a couple of local outfits doing local good, and probably throw a few dollars in the Sally Ann kettle at the mall at Christmas. At least I know they won't be sending me Christmas cards.

And as for the charity Christmas cards I already have, here's the kicker: I don't send Christmas cards. Haven't for years.

Sorry, charity. Double lose.

I imagine my wash is dry by now. Time for the next layer. I feel like being a petulant child and saying that painting is stupid, but guess I'll save that for next time that I'm frustrated with my lack-of-skill. I'm sure you'll all be looking forward to it, right?

Yeah, right, Dee.

Assorted random thoughts

2011-09-30T12:25:00.000-06:00

And random roses. Obviously not a recent photo, but 'tis the season to start getting used to that. I don't mind fall, but I sure do mind how it always seems to lead to winter.

Anyway. Random thoughts. First, Random music. Or maybe not quite so random since Wheat knows why, but it's likely pretty random to my two fans.

Random news story. Sorry to any future two fans if the link becomes defunct. It's about Paris's new Bluecar program -- basically, electric cars available to be borrowed for short trips. You pick them up from self-service battery points and drop them off at other points. I'll be curious to see if it works. I know the bike system has, but cars? Seems another animal, somehow. And I just can't imagine it working at all here in Western Canada. We're too much of a car culture, unfortunately.

Random feelings about Blogger's new Dynamic Views option. I... dunno. I tried it out when it was still in Blogger Draft, and there's a reason that I never stuck with it. Sure, it's neat to be able to play with the way the blog looks, and it's nifty that my two fans could choose a different look if they wanted to. But... somehow it just doesn't feel bloggy enough to me, you know? It loses some of the personality... some of the weirdness I choose to put on the sidebar. And as far as the other blog goes, I just don't know if the whole idea works at all for the way I like to present things. I might play with it a bit on the weekend, if anyone pops by and wonders why things look weird, but I can't imagine sticking with it.

Random... oh, screw it. I may just as well post what's really on my mind so that I can get back to work. Today marks the twentieth anniversary of my first day here at the Nature Centre. I'm saying (well, typing) this very quietly because I don't really want anyone here to remember. The fact is, I haven't quite figured out how I feel about having worked here for twenty years. Or any place for twenty years, come to it. I mean, yes this is a good place to work (even my proclivity for inertia wouldn't last through twenty years in a horrible job) and I don't really have anything to say against it, but still. I'm forty-one. Twenty years is a pretty huge part of my life, and twenty years in the same job? Even if it's a good one? Is a looong time. And a looong time is something that I'm not exactly sure that I want to celebrate.

Not saying that I wouldn't casually remind this lot next week if I somehow change my mind about just letting the milestone pass, of course, but this is how I feel at the moment.

And with that random thought...

Later, folks.

Ok, so I forgot to blog

2011-09-29T14:22:00.002-06:00

Seriously, I did. I got involved in some work stuff, and my head is full of snot (yep, tiredness and feeling blah have resolved themselves into my yearly fall cold... just in time for school programming to start in earnest next week), and then there was the dog in underpants...

Um, yeah. Let's just go back to I forgot to blog and not into my workplace is weird. At least, let's not do it today.

So what does that leave me? Not too much, I suppose. I'll give it a think for a moment.

*insert elevator music here*

Ok, here's a question. What age is too young for boys (or girls. This'll fit for girls too) to be using hair products? I had a boy in my morning program with a fauxhawk, and it kind of got me to wondering if it was really appropriate. I mean, it definitely looked kind of cute on him and no doubt he was emulating an older brother or maybe even his father, but the kid was five years old. Does a five-year-old really need to be gelling up?

I don't know.

It was harmless, I have to admit. Compared to what goes on with those beauty pageant moms who put false eyelashes and hairpieces on their three-year-olds, it was so far down on my personal scale of what the hell are you doing to your kid? that I'm not sure why I'm even mentioning it. It was a fun little hairdo on a five-year-old, that's all.

I guess... I guess it was maybe a little bit of wishing that kids in general wouldn't start to get concerned about how they look so early in life? Yeah, that could be. I can't help but think that children nowadays don't have enough time to be children, and thinking of a kindergarten kid already starting to worry about whether he looks ok (which, again, I don't think this particular kid was. It's just the example I have at hand) is a bit depressing to me.

Um, says the girl who had her ears pierced -- at her own request -- for the first time in Grade One...

Oh, and ladies? If you're considering getting your daughter's ears pierced before she's old enough to tell you that she wants pierced ears, just don't. Seeing pierced ears on a baby bothers me so very much. Even more than those ugly flowered hairbands that some people insist upon foisting on their kids. At least the hairbands can come off at nap time. Earrings? Not so much.

Ok. That ended up to be a post after all. Back to work for me, then. That and sneezing. Expect me to be sounding like I'm the only one who's ever had a cold in the next few days. I'm awfully good at that side of being sick.

As my two fans are very well aware.

Should I just call it Post Title?

2011-09-28T11:59:00.002-06:00

I'm tempted to sometimes, you know. I really am.

This is going to be a non-post, by the way. I'm really tired, my digestive system is decidedly not happy (partly a function of being so tired), and frankly? This would be nothing but a big pile o' whinge anyway so there's not much point.

See you whenever, then.

Working at work part two

2011-09-24T13:43:00.000-06:00

Yeah, busy busy. Actually getting things accomplished, and doing a fair amount of singing and chair dancing to the internet radio besides since I'm the only one in the office. Erm, not that Wheat would object to the music being on since we often have music on in here. It's just that I try to keep the singing along to a minimum in that case. Seems only fair.

About the title, by the way: I don't want it to sound like I don't generally work at work. I do. It's just that I've been kind of extra involved in a project the past couple of days, so taking time to blather feels kind of silly.

Ah well.

Incidentally, if you ever find yourself in casual conversation saying something about "quick and dirty mounting" you should probably make it clear that you're talking about pictures.

And speaking of mounting I can smell that the laminator must be getting close to the right temperature so I should probably end here. We have to do laminating by smell these days since the Ready light on the machine burned out a few years ago. You get used to it pretty quickly, though. Ah, the smell of melting plastic.

Anyway. I really should go get started because I have a fair amount to do. Catch you in a couple of days, all.

Working at work

2011-09-23T12:56:00.001-06:00

That's what I've been doing, all right. It was a surprisingly productive morning, all things considered.

And all of this means what, then?

No blather for the blog, since my head's been full of work blather instead. And I could blog the work blather, I suppose, but I just don't think that my two fans are all that into reading my thoughts on the Alberta Education Science Curriculum Grade Three Science Topic E: Animal Life Cycles Specific Learner Expectations.

Oh, and we probably have a cougar in the Sanctuary but Fish and Wildlife hasn't confirmed it yet.

That's all I have for today's edition of Working at Work, folks. Tune in tomorrow when I will probably be very frustrated about drawing Ground Squirrels.

Maybe I could make it a ferocious Ground Squirrel? Then I'd be able to give it double duty and use it for this week's Illustration Friday...

Um, ok. Maybe not.

Later, then.

Incidentally, I initially went into science partly so that I could avoid the family occupation of teacher. Apparently it's genetic, though, because I spend almost as much time wandering around the curriculum as I would have if I'd just surrendered and taken the Education degree instead. Ah well. Guess you can't fiddle with fate.

It tends to work better if you use a violin instead.

Sh...

2011-09-22T12:52:00.002-06:00

No, today's title wasn't brought on by this week's blog silence, which was itself brought on by lack of sleep. You know what's fun? Take a woman who's a notorious insomniac and then screw with her hormones to make it even more impossible for her to sleep. Sometimes you suck, nature.

Aaanyway.

Today's post title comes to you courtesy of my speech impediment. My slight speech impediment, I should say, since I'm not planning to type a lengthy whinge about my crippling inability to talk. I talk for a living, for Whomever's sake. If I tried to tell you now that I couldn't, you'd be forgiven for thinking that I was absolutely full of it.

I do have a speech impediment, though. A slight one. My two fans may remember me mentioning it before, but I'm pretty sure that it's been a while. For those new to the program, then: S-H and I sometimes don't get along well.

When I was a kid, fish was fiss and dish was diss. Those terminal S-H words were a problem. At the start of a word things were fine, but apparently my brain had trouble getting itself around the fact that S-H was allowed to work at the end of a word, too. I don't remember having speech therapy (which isn't to say that I didn't. I don't remember most of my physiotherapy either, except for those stupid painful exercises that I had to do before bed. Oh, I remember those...), but I do remember being reminded that wiss was supposed to have a sh sound on the end.

Like most kids with a minor impediment, I mostly grew out of it. Nowadays I'll have a little trouble with S-H if I'm really tired, but generally you wouldn't know it was a problem if you talked to me on an average day.

Except.

You had to know that there was an except, right? I probably wouldn't be typing this if there wasn't an except. So here it is.

Except that all of you parents naming your kids Josh are driving me ever so slightly batty. Josh is hard, boys and girls. Especially if you have any S's in the first part of your last name. I really kind of hate saying Josh, and to be honest Joss Stone sort of bugs me too just because I always feel like I'm saying her name wrong even though I'm not.

I guess what I'm saying, then, is if you're thinking of naming your boy (or girl, I suppose, if you're into that sort of thing) Josh, then please... oh, what the hell. Do it anyway. It's not like most of the Joshes in the world are ever going to hear me struggle with their name, right?

Sigh.

I'll just be over here in the corner for a bit, ok? Probably practicing S-H...

Happifying the cat

2011-09-17T12:17:00.000-06:00

Today's pointless photo is not of the cat. Just so you know.

I'm going to try to keep this on the short side, since I've managed to waste the morning and I need to get a few things done. Like lunch. I need to get lunch done for sure.

----------

As my two fans know, Max is the world's neediest cat. One of the world's neediest cat's favourite things to do is be pampered in bed. By me, at least. He tends to just sleep when he's with Dad (or at least that's what Dad says), but when he comes to visit me he's usually expecting a round of having his belly rubbed. Which is fine if I'm already awake, of course, but when he decides he's in the mood at three in the morning I'm not especially pleased. But I mostly put up with it, because it's the routine.

Or at least it was the routine. It hasn't been for a couple of months now.

You see, I did something almost unforgivable to the cat this summer. I took to sleeping in another room when at Dad's place. And that's not all. I was doing it in a SLEEPING BAG.

I know, how dare I?

The thing is, my apartment can be unbearably hot in the summer (and sometimes in the winter as well, but that's another post altogether). This summer I figured that I may as well take advantage of my father's cool basement to get at least a couple of decent nights' sleep each week. Makes sense, right? Well, what totally screwed up the cat was that I was too lazy to actually make the bed in the downstairs room, so I just hauled out my old sleeping bag and used that instead. It was nice, really. Kind of cocoony.

But.

But the cat hated it. He didn't have his usual access, you understand. It was harder to wake me up. And if I happened to be awake already, he still didn't have any bedclothes to flop around on while getting into belly-rubbing position. He tried once or twice, early on, but by the end of the summer he'd pretty much given up on me. He'd come and visit when I first went to bed, but once he'd realise it was the sleeping bag yet again, he'd just go away.

Last night was different though. Things have cooled off enough that I made up my own bed upstairs and slept in that. I was curious about how Max would react to the change of venue, naturally.

He was ecstatic.

He was on the bed before I was in it. He purred twice as loud as he usually does -- and this is a loud-purring cat to begin with. He was properly fondled. I was sure I'd be pestered all night.

Much to my surprise, he didn't. He had his attention when I went to bed, and then when Dad went to bed he went off with him. And -- and this was the fantastic part -- he didn't come back at three in the morning. Or four. I think it was sometime after five, and he went away when I ignored him. When he came back the second time I was properly awake, so we had our happy cat time then.

I do believe the cat missed me, boys and girls.

I suppose I missed him too.

A bit.

This didn't end up to be short, did it? Ah well, maybe next time.

My weird workplace

2011-09-16T12:23:00.002-06:00

I just interrupted a meeting. Slightly.

There wasn't any choice, because the thing I needed was in the room. And I couldn't wait, because I needed that particular thing right away so that I could show it to a group.

The meeting group pretty much ignored me when I came in to pick the thing up, but I have to admit that I caused a slight disturbance when I brought it back. I guess in retrospect it might have been a good idea to put it back in the bucket I'd used to transport it with rather than carrying it back barehanded.

They just weren't quite expecting to see the salamander, you see.

I suppose I should have thought of that, but I didn't. It's just not terribly odd around here to find someone walking around with a salamander.

This place is admittedly a bit weird, as far as workplaces go. Random salamander transport aside, things seem to happen here that you just don't expect to happen in an office setting. And it is an office setting, believe me. I'm sitting in a fairly standard office right now (if you ignore the fact that everything that usually sits on the floor is currently on the desks because the floor is still wet from Wednesday's carpet cleaning. Guess they believed in giving things a gooooood soaking). Desk, computer, phone, books, bunny suicide calendar, plastic glow-in-the-dark skeleton, foam disc shooters...

Ok, so it's a casual office setting.

I once took a series of office photos for the blog. I'm thinking that it might be just about time to do that again. It's been a while, and a few things have changed. Besides, I have a few new two fans (erm... that completely didn't work, did it?) who haven't seen the workplace yet, and who knows? They might actually be interested.

I'll wait until the floor dries, though.

Where was I going with this, again? Oh, right. Nowhere much. I can say, though, that I kind of forget how weird things are around here until something like a salamander sighting reminds me. I've said before that I can't quite figure out why I don't talk about work more in the blather, but I think the key is (or at least might be) that I've been here long enough that what seems strange to the casual observer is just part of a normal work day to me. So maybe I need someone to cue me every once in a while? You know, with a simple question or something like that. So, Dee, what exactly were you doing wandering around with the salamander? or Hey, Dee, why shouldn't I swallow the seeds from rose hips? or Dee, exactly how many dead things are sitting on your desk today?

There are answers to all of those questions, folks.

Mostly weird ones, but I'm beginning to think that it's just the way things go around here.

J'Adorn

2011-09-15T11:55:00.000-06:00

Does anyone actually get tired of the pointless photos having nothing to do with the daily blather on this blog. I do, sometimes. I was thinking that maybe I should work a bit harder at theme-ing my pictures this winter when there aren't flowers to takes shots of. And then I remembered that doing that would make the photos non-pointless. And then I worried that the blog would turn into a pumpkin. And then my brain started hurting, so I decided to stop thinking about it altogether. And so I started thinking about my jewellery.

That's right, jewellery.

I'm not a terribly jewellery-heavy person, really. I have a bit, of course; most women accumulate at least a little costume jewellery over their lifetimes (and yes, I know that some men do, too. I have opinions about men and their jewellery, though. Maybe I'll save that for another post) and I'm no different. I also have an uncle who seems to like buying his niece jewellery now and then, so because of him I've ended up with a few more pieces than I might have otherwise.

I rarely wear them.

It's not that I don't like them. I do. He has decent taste. It's just... well, let's face it. I work at a nature centre. My usual daily costume is a uniform t-shirt (and, erm, trousers, naturally. I'd have hoped you'd assume that, however). I spend a fair amount of time outside. It would look odd if I showed up here all gauded up, don't you think?

That's not to say that I'm completely unadorned. I usually wear earrings. Heart-shaped gold earrings joined together with a chain so that I don't have to look for two pairs for my double-piercings first thing in the morning. I've had them since I was a teenager. They're the ultimate in lazy. I also occasionally wear a ring or two. Today it's the cheap silver pinkie ring I bought at my hometown's trade show a few months ago. I'm pretty sure I blogged about it at the time, if you're interested in my cheap silver pinkie ring.

Yep. That's the state of the jewellery today. Not even a chain, since I generally wear my nerdstick on a lanyard and a chain would just tangle the works up.

I'm getting jewellery boring, really.

I've been thinking (for a while, really. I'm sure if you go back to last winter's posts you'll find that I was thinking of it then) that I should go through my jewellery box sometime. Reorganise, polish... maybe get reinterested in some of the things that I haven't worn for a while. It might be nice to not be boring for a change, don't you think? And there's always the bonus of laughing at the hideous 80s stuff that I know is still lurking in there. Might be worth a blog photo essay, even.

Ah, we'll see.

In the meantime?

Well, maybe I'll work my way up to putting my nerdstick on my keyring instead and putting on a chain or a necklace someday. I know it's a stretch, but I could probably handle it if I reeeally tried...

Sotto voce

2011-09-14T14:35:00.000-06:00

I'm being vewy vewy quiet just now. No, not hunting wabbits; just very scratchy after a morning spend yelling over the wind to try to make myself heard during this morning's pond study. I'm not especially wanting to lose my voice this early in the programming season, so quiet it is at the moment.

Headachy it is too at the moment, but that, unfortunately, is just a continuation of the past couple of days. My neck's been giving me some grief again, which is a little depressing since it'd been not too bad for the past few months.

Anyway.

I'm sure you'd all like to hear about my new cable box, right?

I have a new cable box.

I had to have a new cable box.

The company I'm with has decided to go entirely digital, so cable box it was.

Now, to be fair, they did offer the cable boxes and installations for free. I, however, had to go the not-free route because I'm a pretty heavy pvr user and my old unit (I think I was probably one of the first people in this city to have a pvr, so I do mean old unit) wouldn't have worked properly with the blasted cable box. So what does one do but bite the bullet, pay the *special discounted price* for the brand-new two-tuner pvr, and grumble under her breath about the stupid cable company anyway?

I actually do that last part quite a lot, but that's kind of beside the point.

The spiffy new cable box was installed yesterday. It... works. Well, what else is a person going to say about a cable box? It works, it does what it's supposed to, it'll show up in my credit card bill in a week or so. End of story, right?

Well, until quarter after twelve last night that's what I thought.

Something woke me up at quarter after twelve. I'm not sure what. All I really knew at the time was that the room seemed way too bright for quarter after twelve.

That's when I noticed that the television was on. The box was recording a late-night program, and there was the tv blaring away and me wondering what on earth for. Did Mr Installation Man couple the two units? Is the stupid thing going to turn on my television every time it turns itself on? Well, bloody hell, then.

I manually turned off the tv, then got to thinking that all I'd really done was put the two things out of sync. So what happens when the box turns itself off? Television on? Am I going to be annoyed by this game Every. Single. Night?

It wasn't until I woke up the next day that I realised that...

wait for it...

There was nothing wrong with the system. Nothing wrong with the box; nothing wrong with the tv. Something wrong with the operator, who'd turned off the box when she went to bed but hadn't remembered to turn off the television because it now goes straight to black when the cable box is off. The television was on the whole time, so of course it started making noise when the box turned itself on to record.

And yes, I'm an idiot.

An idiot who now has digital cable on a ten-year-old television, so I guess that's... something?

It's something, all right.

This is going to be a non-post

2011-09-11T10:53:00.000-06:00

And almost was, accidentally. It's going to be a dangerous thing for me that the publish button in Blogger's new editor is right next to the post title box. Right where the enter button is in some applications...

Anyway. I apologise for what probably won't be a worth-reading post, because frankly the day is getting to me more than I wanted it to. And since I don't want to talk about where I was when or even really talk about it at all, it's kind of left in me in the position of what else do I talk about, then?

I'm not sure.

It seems a little juvenile to talk about the owie on my finger (slicing a frozen bun while holding it in your hand = stupid. End of story) or the fact that the occasionally-spastic muscle in my left eyelid has been dancing about for days now and is really getting annoying. I mean, who cares, right? Of course, if it wasn't for stuff like that this blog wouldn't exist in the first place. It's called pointless for a reason, after all.

'Scuse me. Need to change the song on the internet radio. Karen Carpenter had an undeniably good voice, but man was the music saccharine.

Ok, where was I? Oh, right. Not much of anywhere.

Well, I could bring up the good news story of the day, for those of my two fans who aren't in Canada. Have you ever heard of someone abducting a young boy, keeping him for a few days, and then returning him? Seriously. It happened. At this point I'm not even going to worry about whether there's something fishy behind the whole thing. I'm just glad to hear that at least one of the world's crappy stories isn't quite as crappy as it could have been.

I so need to get in a better mood. Bet you couldn't see that, though.

Ah well. I'll work on it for tomorrow. And for those looking for actual content in the blather, stay tuned until Wednesday, when I'll be able to tell you alllll about the wonders of enforced digital cable.

I'm sure you can tell how thrilled I am about that one.

This is the part where I'm supposed to have thought of something for the blog, right?

2011-09-10T11:08:00.001-06:00

To be honest, I've been too busy fooling around on the internet to have bothered. I'm kind of feeling the weekend brain thing happening here today. Probably means that this afternoon's doodling session won't go so well either, but I guess we'll see.

So... what to do in lieu of an actual topic? We could have a rather odd cat photo instead, I guess.

Yep. It's pretty odd.

If you too would like to have a rather odd cat photo, all you need is a camera in your hand, a cat on your shoulder, and a somewhat dirty mirror with a pattern on it. Yeah, those black lines came with the mirror.

If you want the addition of the white line going through everything, you're going to have to use mirror tiles instead of a single mirror. That way the join between them can catch the flash and make the cat look like it's on a space odyssey.

And that's all there is to it. Simple, really.

And if your cat for some reason doesn't want to look like it's on a space odyssey, just give it a pillow.

Because every cat needs a pillow.

'Night, Max.

'Night, nonsense.

This may not be good

2011-09-09T12:25:00.000-06:00

Don't worry -- this won't be another round of whinge. I'm feeling better today than I have for the past couple. Although... if I did want to complain I think I'd have a good deal to say about my cable company's customer service. Nothing out of the ordinary... which is unfortunate, when you think of it. Oh, and a piece of advice? Always remember not to call a call centre with a cell phone, even if you don't have a land line anymore. Find some other way to do it at all costs. That's at least twenty minutes of my air time that I'll never see again.

And why do they have to have such annoying music?

Um, anyway.

So, this morning I looked at the shoes I've been wearing for the past year and a half or so (winter not included, which I guess means that I've been wearing them for about five to eight months) and realised that it was time to introduce them to the dumpster on my way to work. Beyond salvageable, these were, but I got my money out of them so I'm not holding a grudge. Giving up on the shoes meant I needed something work-suitable to wear today, though, so I had a quick look through the old stock to see what I had lying around (now, bear in mind that I have a perfectly good new pair still sitting in their box waiting for shoe-dumpster day. No point in getting them out yet if there's something else usable, I figure. Better to save them for next season if at all possible).

I suppose I should explain here that because of my wonked-up ankle I have to be pretty careful with what shoes I wear on a daily basis. When I find a shoe model that doesn't cause me complete grief, I tend to stick with it. The shoes in the box are the same model -- but different colour -- as the shoes that are now bidding their fond farewell.

Have I already said anyway?

I found the previous iteration of the same shoes still sitting on my shoe rack, so I took them out to have a look. Pretty decent shape, really. Obviously worn a bit, but I couldn't quite figure out why I'd put them away in the first place. I put them on, grabbed my stuff, headed down to the parking lot, threw out my old shoes... and by the time I got to the car I remembered why the shoes I'd been wearing had been banished in the first place.

I go through periods where my ankle is really being a pain (literally) and I have to wear one of my braces every day. I hate ankle braces with a passion, but sometimes you just can't deny that you need the extra support. But ankle braces just aren't very good for shoes, unfortunately. Depending on the type of brace and the type of shoe, the brace can change the shape of the shoe enough that it doesn't feel right to wear the shoe without the brace. And that, my friends, must have been what happened to this particular pair of shoes, judging from the way my left foot has been sliding around today.

Sigh.

They're not lace-ups, so I can't adjust them.

I'm stuck with them for at least the weekend now, since I'm planning to go straight to my father's place from work.

Bracing against a shoe for a weekend might irritate my ankle to the point where I need to wear a brace for a while...

Bugger.

Ah well. At least if I have to wear a brace I now know that I have the shoes for it. I don't think I'll throw them out, but when I get home I'm going to put a big THESE ARE YOUR BRACE SHOES sticker on them before I put them away again.

And in the meantime?

Oh, I'll likely be complaining about the whole thing. It's one of my true talents, after all.

Pointless I don't feel like it of the day:

2011-09-08T12:57:00.002-06:00

Today's Bachelor's Button has NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING. Just so you know.

I'm trying hard not to sound terribly whingy, folks, but I'm in a bit of a bad head space today. Well, no. Not a bad head space. A bad head. I told you yesterday about the two-day headache? Currently a three-day headache with a slight intermission yesterday afternoon.

For a migraine.

Seriously. I stopped at the corner grocery on my way home and suddenly noticed my eyesight going funny. Classic migraine aura for me.

I haven't had one of those godawful things in years, and let me tell you now that I didn't miss them.

Anyway, I managed to get myself home before it hit full-on. Write off pretty much the rest of last night, as you can imagine.

Today? Migraine hangover with a background of the same headache I've been dealing with for too damned long now.

This is getting old.

Aaanyway. This obviously isn't going to become a post, so I think I'll quick before it gets completely pathetic. Maybe next time I'll tell you about my balcony magpie if you remind me to.

And if my head actually works.

My head hurts

2011-09-07T13:53:00.000-06:00

Gee. Bet you haven't heard that from me in a while.

Oh, and it's not the cosmos' fault (the flower, I mean. It might be the Cosmos' -- in the larger sense -- fault, for all I know, but I'm certainly not blaming the flower). It's supposed to be that colour, by the way. It's not just bleached out.

I'm on day two of this particular headache, which usually means that my neck is involved. I'm mobile at the moment, but all it would take is a crooked sleep and I'll be hooped.

Yay? Not really. Thanks for giving me the family bad neck, mom. I enjoy it very much.

So having established that I have a headache, let me now tell you how my morning started. I woke up (way too early, as usual). I groggily watched my recorded late-night stuff. I attempted to get ready for work. I decided that I should lie down for a little longer to give myself a fighting chance of taking the edge off of the headache before I left for the office.

Around eight o'clock I heard a noise.

A big noise.

A motor noise.

A noise too loud and too close to be coming from the loading dock of the hotel that my apartment building is next to.

Now, let me set the scene a bit before I get up to check the noise. The apartment's balcony door (which also happens to be its only window) is wide open because we're having a late season heat wave and my south-facing apartment is veeery warm. I'm also in a ratty tank top and -- erm -- not so ratty underwear. Same reason. I get up to see what all the noise is about and find...

Two men in a construction lift right outside my third-floor window.

Great.

Then the swearing started. Not from me, although it might have been appropriate. No, it was from the workmen who had just realised they'd set up the lift for the wrong balcony. They were supposed to be one apartment over and one floor up, as I found out from the massive pounding that started a few minutes later.

Pounding.

Great.

Anyway, longish story slightly shorter, my headache and I decided that we may just as well go into work at the usual time after all.

And tomorrow?

Well, I guess I'll wait and see if I'm moving at all before I promise a more interesting post.

This one's over now, though.

Stupid morning. Stupid head.

Ok, I've got nothing

2011-09-03T13:14:00.000-06:00

Well actually... I've got troubles (whoa whoa), I've got worries (whoa whoa)...

Sorry. It just came to mind when I started typing.

The fact is, though, that I am worried about something, and -- as my two fans know -- that usually means I either pump up the blather ten-fold to keep from thinking about it or I tend to clam up completely. I seem to be heading for the second option today, I guess.

I should make it clear that I'm not worried about something earth-shattering (although it might end up costing me a bit of money). Don't be worried about me worrying; I'm just built that way. Call it an artifact of being an olf, if you like. I still worry about things from grade school, for pity's sake. This will be ok no matter how it turns out (and if it turns out that something has to be done, I promise it will make its way into the blather), but until it turns out my brain won't be able to let go of it.

I hate being a worrier.

It serves no purpose.

And what's frustrating is that I know full well that it serves no purpose, but as much as I'd like to stop it I just simply can't. I've never been able to. I can't go with the flow.

Sometimes I feel like I can't even find the flow.

Ah well.

If I'm going to be honest, I'm slightly less worried about what I'm currently worried about than I was a couple of days ago because I'm fully aware that I have a safety net, but still. Things. Why do they happen, eh?

And with all the things that happen whether I worry about them or not, and all the things that don't seem to happen even when I do worry about them, why on earth do I continually seem to find more things to worry about?

And why am I such an obsessive little freak, anyway?

Um... that was for any of you who are new to the program and might not realise what an olf actually is. Blame the Ontario office for that one, by the way. She christened me olf yeeears ago. Personally, I'm not sure if having a label made it better or worse.

Ah well, as someone once said a few paragraphs up. If a person's going to worry, she may as well have some classic music to worry by. Shall we end this nonsense with something like that, then? Let's see... Ok, this'll do nicely.

See you in a day or two, folks. Long weekend here, and I'm taking a bit of time to myself.

To worry, no doubt.

Quick pointless photo of the day:

2011-09-02T13:40:00.000-06:00

Another one from the balcony. Kind of weird, I know, but I liked it anyway.

That'll do it for me today. It was a work-y morning, I haven't had time to think about anything for the blog, I have more stuff to get done yet (and since I'm part-time, not as much day to get it done in as I'd like), and I just get the feeling that this isn't a random-typing-will-lead-me-to-a-topic sort of afternoon.

I'll try to have something for you tomorrow.

Stationery envy

2011-09-01T11:45:00.002-06:00

The photo? Just assorted weirdness that's been going on in the balcony planters.

I'm going to try to keep this short today because sleep hasn't been going at all well. And that, as anyone who's visited this place knows, leads to an awful lot of backspacing and not very much sense.

So. Having said that, let me just add that I am so completely in full-on stationery envy mode at the moment. All the back to school ads definitely have me wanting to lay in school supplies, which is awkward and not at all necessary since I'm not going back to school.

I loved buying new school supplies, though. Couldn't have cared much about school clothes, but stationery? New, undestroyed school supplies? Were absolute heaven.

Yeah, I was a weird kid.

Since I'm also a weird adult, this is the time of year that I have to work especially hard at keeping myself away from art stores. You see, logically I know that I don't need school supplies, but over the years my brain has transferred the need for school supplies to the want for new art things. What things? Doesn't matter. Something new and undestroyed, of course, and something probably too expensive. I used to give into it almost every fall, but in the past few back-to-schools I've actually managed to keep the MUST BUY ART SUPPLIES voice in my head down to a dull pleading.

Wish me luck this year. And happy back to school, all you lucky new-stationery-toting students...

Pointless balcony planter photo of the day:

2011-08-29T11:47:00.001-06:00

It's a very overedited cosmos, because I decided I liked it that way when I was playing with it. Something about what happened with the leaves, I guess.

I can be weird like that, if you haven't already noticed.

And if you haven't already guessed, I don't really have any blather today. It's partly because I'm still waiting to get a full night's sleep (a little better last night, but sheesh. Enough is enough, ok?), partly because I've been doing work things at work (oddly enough), and partly because I just didn't think of anything to post.

Hey, I do get points for honesty, right?

I suppose I could explain the working at work thing. Normally, since this is August, I wouldn't even be at work today. Over the summer months I switch to having Mondays and Tuesdays for my weekend so I can be here on Saturdays and Sundays for programming. However, you might notice that the end of this week isn't August anymore. That means I need to get back to being here on the weekdays so that I can be around for school programming as it comes up.

So... um... there you have it. I never said that it was going to be an exciting explanation, so I hope no one was expecting one.

Believe it or not, that's all I've got at the moment. Heck, I haven't even got a doodle for this week's Illustration Friday done yet, so I suppose my two fans should be happy that any words appeared here at all.

If you're into that sort of thing, that is. If you'd rather just go back to staring at the overedited picture, well... have at 'er, I guess. As for me, I'm going to stop typing this riiight... now.

Chapter 1413: Wherein Dee makes two very obvious observations

2011-08-28T12:31:00.000-06:00

1. I am really getting tired of not sleeping.

2. HALLELUJAH IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE SONG FOR A FUNERAL. I don't care if Jack Layton chose the thing himself. When a song has been called, by one of its interpreters, a "hallelujah to the orgasm," it Should. Not. Be. Played. At. A Funeral. Ever.

And besides, Steven Page did a pretty channel-changingly-poor job of it. Or at least I think so. But then, I'm not exactly a fan.

Um, yeah. That's all I've got today. I need to get some work done before my plant walk.

Well, then

2011-08-24T13:07:00.001-06:00

I seem to have left my nerdstick at home, so no pointless photo today.

I hope I left my nerdstick at home, because otherwise the world now has my nerdstick.

I'm pretty sure I left my nerdstick at home, because you'd think it would be hard for a person to miss an entire lanyard being ripped off of her neck, and since the nerdstick lives on the lanyard...

Now I'm going to worry about my nerdstick for a while, ok?

Ok.

No worries, by the way. Even if I've lost the thing, there wasn't much of importance on it. Just bugs me that I don't remember not putting it on, that's all. Stupid automatic morning habits that aren't so automatic anyway.