Rooming with Ernie? Probably a mistake.

So, you';ve just found yourself living on Sesame Street and you need a roommate. Who will you wind up with? Well, for whatever reason my first instinct when asked that question was... Ernie.

Bert & Ernie
The whole rubber ducky thing appeals to me a bit, but in reality living with Ernie probably wouldn't go well since I have to reluctantly admit that I'm more of a Bert (erm, without the pigeon fetish. I hate pigeons). Of course, the two of them have managed not too badly for a lot of years, so... Nah. Wouldn't work. Ernie'd be missing his head out of my sheer aggravation and annoyance in no time if we were roommates, and then I'd be stuck living with somebody's hand instead.

Now, if I were living on the Muppet Show rather than Sesame Street, it's Rowlf the Dog all the way. I might have said Beaker initially, but in the end he's just not much of a communicator and that would be frustrating. You have to talk to each other eventually when you have a roommate, right? No, seriously. I'm asking. I've never actually had a roommate...

Mirror, mirror (writing) on the wall...

Hidden talents. I have a few, I suppose. The vast majority are completely and totally useless, but there's one vaguely interesting one that might be worth a few words. I guess. But will you be able to read them?

Back in the days of passing notes in school, my friends and I somehow decided that it would be more fun (or maybe more challenging for teachers to decipher? I'm not sure which) to start writing things in mirror image. Or printing things, to be more accurate. None of my friends could seem to master cursive mirror writing, but I didn't find it too difficult. I used to be pretty good at it, too, but I'm a little out of practice now. Still, it doesn't take too much of a retry to get my mirror writing almost up to the same speed as my non-mirror writing.

But is it readable? Surprisingly, yes. Equally surprising, if you hold it up to a mirror to read it looks an awful lot like my usual left-handed scrawl.

As far as the whys of this... um... talent, I choose to blame the wiring of the left-handed brain. I have very little trouble reading things upside-down, backwards, or in mirror image, so it stands to reason that with enough effort I can write that way too. I've jokingly called it left-handed dyslexia in the past, but I think there's a tiny bit of truth to that label.

So... does this count as a hidden talent, or just a useless one?

Anyone have a pen handy?

The Plinky prompt of the moment is asking the eternal question: writing on paper or writing by keyboard?

Ok, so maybe it's not really an eternal question. It is a question, though. Let's have a go at answering it.

For me, I'd have to say that whether I write or type depends entirely on the application. If I'm writing stuff for work or if something needs to be done quickly it generally happens on the computer, but if I'm actually composing something I need to scribble. It's definitely an aid to the thought process to slow things down and really look at them as opposed to just letting words fly off of my fingertips. Despite what the somewhat unclear photo might seem to indicate, though, I do tend to use cursive writing rather than printing. This was just a fair copy from one of my poetry notebooks, that's all. Once I've finished mangling a poem I print it in a composition book. Print because it's easier to read, and pencil because, archivally speaking, it's less likely to fade into oblivion.

Unless someone rubs the page, of course.

And if you're desperate to read the WHOLE poem featured in the photo, I have two things to say: #1) Why, and #2) I think I posted it on the other blog at some point. You know, if you're really desperate for bad poetry.

Or just desperate in general, I guess.

In case anyone's interested (and I'm sure you are), when it comes to editing rather than just writing I can do most of the job via computer, but I absolutely need to see the final layout on paper. I'm not sure why, but I'm just not entirely comfortable with calling a project finished until I have the real, physical thing in my hands.

It occurred to me after I typed (typed... I don't plan these posts enough to bother handwriting them) the above that the whole needing the physical thing in my hands thing (is that enough things for everyone? I could add a few more if you feel lacking in things) is probably stemming from the same part of my brain that prefers the hands-on feel of sketching to the distancing effect of painting. Um... wait a sec. I talked about that here. No point in my typing it all over again, really.

Even less point in writing it out.

Done now. Happy Mothers' Day to all you mothers out there.






Hmm. That sounded a bit ruder than I'd intended it to...

Walk this way

Missed yesterday because I was busy. Will probably miss tomorrow because I'll be busy. Thursday? Hmm. Maybe I should just say that posting will be hit or miss this week and leave it at that.

Today's pointless photo is of... um... I don't know, actually. I did know at some point, but I can't remember now. Anyway, on to today's Plinky answer:

The shoes that are currently one my feet would probably have some people saying BORING!!! but I can't say that I care. They're sensible, supportive, moc-style walking shoes, and it's the kind of thing that's absolutely necessary when someone who has ankle problems knows that she's going to be on her feet for a good part of the day. So... I guess my shoes say that I value function over style.

That's true, actually.

I occasionally watch a certain makeover show, and it always makes me laugh to see them put almost everyone in pointy-toed heels. Are there really so many women in the world who can wear pointy-toes heels in their daily lives? Even those who haven't got buggered up joints? I guess I live on a completely different planet, then. Of course, working as I do at a nature centre, you'd have to imagine that it would look pretty silly if I showed up to do do a pond study in a fashionable pump (or a "cute" boot, or a gladiator wedge...).

Yes, I can easily admit that the "right" shoe completes an outfit. However, I'd sooner be able to walk and have a less-than-perfect outfit than have to sit down every couple of minutes but be looking FABULOUS!

Practicality rules, folks. that's the way it has to be when walking is a challenge.

Even if it does lead to boring sometimes.

In other news, I was sad to hear about Dom Deluise's death. Let's end with a couple for him, ok?

Here's one.
Here's one more.

Bye, Dom.

When the rescue ship comes, I'll tell 'em: Take my companion, please...

So, the scenario is: I'm stuck on an island. Food and stress aren't a problem... but there's someone there with me.

Me. And one other person. Stuck on an island.

If there wasn't a rescue ship, I'd have no choice but to get rid of the companion myself, I think.

Get the feeling that I'm a bit of a loner? You'd be right. The fact is that I really don't mind people. I don't mind them, that is, as long as I have the opportunity to go home and be by myself at the end of the day. I need that quiet time. No other voices to hear but the ones in my head. If I had to be around someone day after day after day it wouldn't matter to me if that hypothetical island was an absolute paradise; I'd be miserable just from the constant company.

Now, if we're talking about an island that's big enough for two separate (VERY separate) shanties and a lifestyle that included, say, meeting the other person for lunch every day and then going back to my own existence unpestered... well, I might be ok with that.

Maybe.

I'm a naturalist and I'm ok

My job? Is weird. I admit it. I work as a naturalist/interpreter at a nature centre, but when I tell people that they immediately assume that I either spend all my time looking at birds through binoculars or that I speak several languages.

Sorry, folks. I'm not THAT kind of interpreter.

And I'm not a birder either.

I suppose that I'm more or less a teacher. I teach people (mostly school kids, but not always) about nature, general science, and sometimes history. And since I'm not in a traditional classroom, the teaching can be a bit more flexible.

And, occasionally, a bit weirder.

But that's a good thing.

At least I'm pretty sure it is...

It slices and... erm... slices...

So, this is my first go at posting to the blog from Plinky. The way this works is that you're given a daily prompt to write about. I've written what you see below on the other site and had it cross-posted here.

Not sure how long I'll keep up with this, but I thought it might be worth a try. Anyway, here's what came up at the thought of infomercials:

IMG_1526 by inspector_81

The closest I can come to saying that I've bought something from an infomercial is admitting that I do own a Ginsu knife. In my own defence, though, it was my mother who bought it... and not by calling the ol' 1-800 number. We were at an exposition, and I think she got drawn in by the spiel, demo, and promise of "if you buy now we'll include all of these amazing items as a bonus." Part of the bonus was an extra knife, and that one went to me. I've had it for years, and I still use it. When I don't want to muck up one of my good knives, I mean.

My father owns one of Ron Popeil's rotisserie ovens. It's not too bad, really. Not that I'd run out and buy one for myself, but it does up a decent chicken.