Bags

Ok, ladies, I want to ask you something. And no, this isn't meant to be a Jerry Seinfeld imitation.

What's the deal with women and handbags?

I could have also said what's the deal with women and shoes, since the stereotypical portrayal of both generally has me feeling like I'm not actually a woman, somehow.

In this culture, anyway.

Shoes? I care if they fit, if they're comfortable, and if they won't bother my ankle. That's it. I'm completely not the market for those internet cheap shoe sites, because I wouldn't care if your cute shoes (boots, sandals, slippers, whatever) are only thirty dollars a pair. Do they fit, are they comfortable, do they bother my ankle? No? Then I don't buy.

Same thing goes with bags. I carry a bag/purse, yes. I never pay more than $30 if I can help it, and I change them out... when they die. That's right. I don't do seasonal or cute or designer (especially not designer); I do practical. Does it fit my stuff, and can I wear it sling-style? Ok, we're good.

Recently my black leather cross-shoulder mini backpack ($24.95, on sale) tore through its poorly-designed strap (ok, I may have had a little extra weight in it, what with packing to stay at Dad's for a while after the surgery) and I found myself purseless in a place where I couldn't even temporarily grab an old bag. Um, unless one or two of Mom's are still tucked in a corner somewhere. Anyway, I didn't think of that at the time, so I tried just jamming my keys, phone, and wallet in coat pockets whenever we went somewhere.

That's a pain in the butt, you know, when you're used to carrying a bag.

Anyway (again), we went to the local trade fair a few days ago, and one of the booths was selling bags like the one you see above. Yep, I bought a Guatemalan bag at a fair that was supposed to be featuring/supporting local businesses.

Oops.

Anyway (the third), it's a nice woven cotton bag that I'm going to have to round up a pencil case or two to help organise, but at least it's a bag. I generally try to get things that are no bigger than I need so it's going to be a challenge not to stuff this one accidentally, but I'll do my best. Fashion-wise? It has no fashion, unless you count neo-hippy. Price? Within my usual. Cute?

I suppose that's in the eye of the beholder. I like it, though, and that's all that matters in the end.





It could easily hold an extra pair of shoes, I guess.

If I was into that.

----------

More yard photos tomorrow, probably, but I thought I'd leave you with this prairie crocus or pasqueflower that was blooming today in amongst the overgrown grass. That's one of my favourite shades of purple in the world, by the way.

Quick pointless photo and tartan update

This is a bit of a mystery. What you're seeing are grouse feathers and body parts by my father's hedge. Ruffed Grouse, if anyone wants to google it. I thought I had a couple of shots Dad took a few years ago of a grouse hanging around his place (probably not the same grouse), but they must be on another flash drive.

Anyway, the mystery is what ate the grouse. They're not hugely common, in yards at least, and they're fairly big. It's possible that a very talented wandering house cat got it cornered in front of the hedge, of course, or that a neighbour's dog got lucky, but I wonder if maybe we don't have foxes hanging around. It's happened in the past, and the fact that I haven't noticed tracks doesn't mean much. These feathers were probably under the snow for a while.

Ah well. Food chains in action.

----------

I need to get back to work, bit I thought that one or two of you might be interested to know that Dad's Maple Leaf Tartan jacket will not, after all, be taken to pieces. I showed Wheat the photo yesterday and he was interested enough that I brought the jacket in with me today. Now I've been forbidden to destroy it because he wants it. To wear. For real.

Actually, if you saw it in person you'd know why. It's a nice, well-constructed jacket, and in the realm of tartans it's not at all gaudy. I have to admit that I wasn't all that keen to piece it out, so I've given it to him on the condition that he find me something tartan to wear by next Tartan Day.



This ought to be fun. In a good way.

In the meantime, today is Draw A Bird Day. Yes, really. We've been contributing on our work twitter feed, and it's kind of a blast to get other people involved. So draw a bird, post it somewhere, and give someone else a smile today. The hashtag is #DrawABirdDay if you want to look it up. Hey, you may even find mine...

Tartan Day

Well, it's Tartan Day here in Canada and a lot of other places (although I see that Australia and New Zealand have theirs in July). Tartan Day, you ask? Yes, really. April 6th was chosen because it marks the anniversary of the Declaration of Arbroath. I'll let you do your own reading on that. I'm not exactly up on my Scottish history.

Heck, I'm not even Scottish.

Oh, maybe if you go waaay back in my mother's ancestry you might find something, but I'm far more English than I'd ever be Scottish. I'm more Welsh than Scottish, and that's going back a ways right there. I'm even more Irish than I am Scottish, and that's going back even further. And as for Ukrainian? Well, my grandfather was Ukrainian (or Ukrainian-Canadian, that is), so when it comes down to ancestry I'm actually fairly Ukrainian even though I don't know a darned thing about it.

Um, anyway. The point is, I'm not Scottish.

For a number of years now my boss, who is of Scottish ancestry, has been giving us the gears for not celebrating Tartan Day. This is someone who has shown up to work in full kilt on April 6th, by the way. Many of us have tried to explain that if we own any tartan at all it's in pyjama bottoms, but he'll just say we should come to work in pyjama bottoms then.

Not me. Besides, I feel a bit weird about wearing tartan. Have I mentioned that I'm not Scottish?

Well, I hadn't remembered that Tartan Day was coming up, but the other day I was reading an article on the history of tartans (and, naturally, now I realise that the article wasn't posted at random) and that got me searching for itemss made with the Alberta Tartan. Oh, wait, Alberta Tartan. And, as an added bonus, the other provinces. You know, for those who are interested. I figured that I may not be Scottish -- did I mention? -- but I am an Albertan. And there are plenty of scarves and things out there that I could get for not much money, and then next Tartan Day I wouldn't have to put up with the annual where's your tartan-fest.

I mentioned all of this to Dad, and he sent me in a slightly different direction.

What you're seeing in the not-entirely-pointless photo above is an old jacket of his featuring the Maple Leaf Tartan, which is Canada's official tartan. I may not be Scottish -- have you heard? -- but I'm definitely Canadian. And since the jacket doesn't fit him anymore he's perfectly willing for me to take it to bits and make whatever tartanish things I'd like to have around for Tartan Day. And as an added bonus, the thing's virgin wool. That's quite the step up from the polyester-viscose stuff I was looking at. Tartan Day problem solved!

Except that TODAY is Tartan Day.



Kind of makes me laugh, really.

Ah well, Tartan Day problem for next year solved, and if I'm in the mood for a little sewing tonight (hand-sewing that is. I'm way too far away from junior high home ec to remember how to use a sewing machine) maybe I'll make myself a little hair bow or something just to give the day a day-late nod at work tomorrow.

----------

On a completely different note, I hope that everyone's remembering that April is Daffodil Month for the Canadian Cancer Society. Wear a pin. Buy a bunch of flowers if you see a charity seller in a local store. They're not expensive, the money's for a good cause, and I'm pretty sure that someone you love will appreciate the fact that you took the time.

Enough words for today, folks. I'm off to... oh hell, probably do my taxes. It seems to happen every Easter weekend.



Happy holidays?

Pointless it's been busy photo of the day:

It's been busy. Still is busy, in fact.

And also kind of sucky, since my neck's out and it's causing me an annoying amount of shoulder pain.

Anyway, no real time to blather so here's a picture of a bad cat. No, he's not supposed to be up there.

And Tom's not supposed to be in the clothes dryer, which apparently he's now attempted for both me and my dad. You're headed for some serious business there, stupid Turkey.

Incidentally, Bob's face markings and laid back demeanour has fooled a lot of people into thinking that he's a Sweet rather than a Turkey. Don't you believe it for a minute. He's as much a Turkey as his brother. He's just quiet about it, that's all.

And that's it for me. I'll try -- really I will -- to find some time to properly blather at some point. I mean, you haven't even heard my Oscars spiel, and now I'm not going to bother because the moment is gone. I will say, though, thank Whomever for the bow ties this year, boys. All this nonsense about long ties with evening dress was getting out of hand...

Something about the 25th, maybe

 Well, so far it's been pretty much the usual Christmas around here. We have, of course, the opening of the cats, the wearing of the Christmas socks, and the washing up before putting the meal on...

Um, file that last pic under Bad Cat. And he wasn't any good at all at doing the dishes.

Enjoy the rest of your day, everyone. I'll aim for a more thorough blather tomorrow.

Girly

That's about the size of things out there, folks. Nights are getting cold, green is starting to disappear, and I'm getting cranky.

Oh no, wait. I'm always cranky.

----------

I was reading one of those what to put in your make-up bag things this morning. Why, I'm not sure. I've never been a particularly girly girl (my barbies were always in various states of plastic fracture because they did stunts rather than hanging around the pool). Not a tomboy in the slightest, mind you; I just don't understand the ultrafeminine attitude. It doesn't make sense to me. It's also not practical at all. Still, I read those Cosmoesque internet articles. Maybe to try to get it, or more likely to annoy myself. Today? Three things you ABSOLUTELY MUST HAVE in your kit if you couldn't have anything else.

Their verdict? A BB-style foundation (they gave a brand name for each thing on the list. I'm not going to bother repeating them), a red lipstick, and a mascara.

Seriously? Whatever, ladies.

Ok, a couple of caveats before I go on with my opinion. First, I've been known to go out without make-up. I know, right? Shock, horror, and how the hell could anyone stand to look at me? Second, I have a decidedly non-girly job. If I came to the nature centre in fashion plate make-up everyone would wonder what paint store I'd been hit by. Oh, and third since I'm apparently counting "a couple" in Monty Python style, if you're an aficionado of the smokey eye I promise you that I'll be looking at you wondering why you're imitating a raccoon.

Understood? Then let's begin.

First the BB creme (HATE the whole cute BB name trend, but whatever). Yeah, I'm ok with that. In fact, on work days I use a BB creme, although certainly not the high-end one the article recommends. Who wants to spend that much on a foundation when you could buy, say, food?

Next, the lipstick. A lip colour is important if you're a make-up person and you're carrying a small bag, I suppose, but bright red is decidedly not appropriate for every situation. Sometimes it just makes you look tarty. I'll give them the lipstick, but only if it's something a lot subtler.

And now, the mascara. No. Mascara is not a necessity. It's a pain in the arse is what it is. And yes, I've worn mascara. I used to wear it frequently as a teenager, and it was usually neon blue. Gotta love the eighties. Anyway, I gave up mascara when I went to university, and I've maybe used it twice since. Regretted it every time. When I used to wear contacts it just irritated my eyes, and once I switched to only glasses I constantly felt my artificially-hardened lashes brushing the lenses.

Yeah, I have fairly long lashes. And fairly dark ones, so I don't suppose I have a need of mascara in everyday life. Gee, do you suppose that might have biased me in some way?...

Mascara's still a pain, though. And so many mascara-using people wear it so badly. Too heavy, too clumpy, too stupid-looking. It's the girl's version  of clown college, as far as I'm concerned.

So what would I suggest instead? Oh yes, I have a suggestion. Eyeliner, but not black. Black is too harsh. The one I use most often is sort of purple-ish (the theory being, according to the experts, that it might bring out some of the green in my blue-green eyes), and here at Dad's I use a double-ended thing that has a brown liner on one end and a highlighter on the other end. That's when I wear make-up here, of course. I don't always, because it's the weekend and I'm not really going anywhere. If I do, it's just the liner and a bit of powder to knock the shine off.

Get a feeling that the cosmetics industry's advertising juggernaut never quite ran over me?

Anyway, lunch time for me now. And maybe a little less girly reading. Otherwise, the next post will turn out to be something like What is it with you people and stupid shoes?





I never have got the shoe thing either. Do you suppose that maybe I'm not a girl?

Various things... oh, and a pointless cat photo

Bet that's a surprise.

Immediately after I took this shot he started chewing the coat, of course.

I think I got fully initiated into the cat family yesterday. Dad was away for a bit, and the Turkey Brothers were entertaining themselves. Like most kittens, these two have two gears: GO!!! and full stop. Well, when Tom reached the wall and retreated to his bed (oh, you'll see the bed. Don't worry), Bob wasn't quite done and came over to me to futz around the recliner I was sitting in.

Bob futzing around a chair is a lot more polite than Tom futzing around a chair, by the way. Bob doesn't tend to try to nibble on your face.

Anyway, he fiddled around for a while and then realised that he was tired too... and curled up in my lap. For two hours. It would have been even more, but eventually even I have to get out of a chair and do something so I moved him to the bed with his brother.

Being a Bob bed means that I fit in, right?

----------

On another topic, I need a haircut.

Yes, already.

See? This is what happens when I actually try to have a hairstyle. It's fine for a couple of weeks, but my hair grows so frustratingly fast that by the third week I'm looking at it and realising that I need to make the choice of haircut or growing it out again.

Growing it out again usually wins. Who wants to pay for a haircut every three weeks?

The problem is that I really kind of liked the cut this time. She razored the layers instead of scissoring them, so it has (had) a different, slightly shaggier feel. It framed my face pretty well, too. In fact, I liked it enough that except for one day I've been wearing it loose to work. I'm generally lucky to make it two days without tying it back in some way, so that's big.

By the way, if you don't believe me about my talent for speed hair let me just say this. When it was cut I was incapable of making a pony tail. Now? No problem. It's a short pony tail, yes, but I tried it out of curiosity the other day and everything stayed in the elastic. Really.

Sigh. I didn't want to be needing a haircut so soon, and even worse, I didn't want to be wanting a haircut.

Stupid haircut. Why did you have to be good?

----------

One last thing, because it wouldn't be me if I didn't end on an annoyance. Always. You know, the menstrual supply brand. Do they hire advertising firms that consider women to be puerile little children on purpose? For years we had to put up with the insultingly cute have a happy period. It's ok, little girl. We don't care if you're cranky and bloated, this magic pad will make everything sunshine and rainbows! And now, as anyone who (still) watches television will know, they've gone into the bladder leakage market. And their slogan? Because, hey! Pee happens.

Seriously? I have no words.

At least tell me that these stupid things were written by men. If it was a bunch of women who decided that the above were both good ideas, they need to be taken out of their boardroom and reminded that the average woman in the actual world understands when she's talked to as an adult.

And if I find myself in the need, I'll be going for Poise (lesser of two evils, really). Because, hey! Sometimes an insulting ad campaign hurts your bottom line.

And speaking of bottoms, I'm going to stop typing now before I get into those bloody Charmin bears who apparently wipe ABOVE their tails. Ugh. Enjoy the go?

I have no words.

Your annual Emmys blah

But first, today's sunflower companion. That's a harvestman. When I was a kid we called them daddy longlegs, but I've since found out that there's an actual spider called a daddy longlegs. To keep from getting the two confused I've tried to use the term harvestman for the non-spider one.

This is why scientific names are better (or at least less confusing) than common ones, but I doubt we'll all be speaking pseudolatin anytime soon.

----------

Ok, the Emmys. First, a confession. I sort of watched the Emmys. They were on, and I occasionally paid a little bit of attention, but I was also doing other things. With that caveat, then, here's my summary:

Blah.

They were blah. Seth Meyers? Nice but kind of blah. Production values? Ok, but sort of blah. Fashions? Honestly, mostly blah. There were one or two wtfs, as there always is, and maybe a couple of standouts (although it's always entertaining to go to the internet fashion lists the next day and see one person's wtf be the next person's ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!!! I don't think even differing opinion could have saved Lena Dunham, though), but mostly it was indifferent. Gentlemen, I will say that it was nice to see so many bow ties. I say this every awards show, but if you wear a straight tie with evening dress, it's not making a fashion statement. It's wearing a shiny suit with an inappropriate tie, is all.

I do have a couple of non-blah comments, of course. To the bulleted list, then.

• Weird Al's thing was awful. And that's coming form someone who likes Weird Al a lot.
• In a three-hour-long awards show, please can we cut the improv? Ricky Gervais, no one cares about your no-win monologue. Jimmy Kimmel? We get it. Matthew McConaughey is a movie person. There may have been funny bits, but fer Whomever's sake get on with it.
• Academy? Watch some new frigging (well, not literally frigging. Unless you want to, I suppose) television, already. Three consecutive wins, five consecutive wins, eighth nomination... all of this indicates that voters just choose names that they recognise instead of trying to figure out who the new people are and seeing if they're any good. Sad, really.
• This will probably surprise people, but I thought that the Robin Williams tribute was... inappropriate. Yes, he was beloved. Yes, his death was a recent shock. But singling one person out in the In Memoriam is always uncomfortable. To me, at least. The business lost some really big names this year. They were also beloved, and I'm sure that their families would have appreciated more than a picture. Do it for one person, do it for all... or don't do it AT all, I figure.

Anyway, I need to get back to work now. And this was actually a post for a change. Congratulations, me.



Next time maybe wear a bow tie?

Swing and a miss...

But first... did you see the spider? You had to know there'd be a spider.

And second... this tumblr currently wins the internet.

Ok, now for topic. I went to Wally World yesterday. That's actually news, because I don't think I've been there for nearly a year. Long enough ago, at least, that I have no idea where things are anymore (this particular Wally World is one of those that got expanded into a Super Centre Center, so now it's a cheap stuff/grocery store hybrid. Is there really a demand for that?). Anyway, I needed a couple of things in the cheap stuff category, so off to the Super Centre (dammit, I refuse to spell 'murcan) I went. And how did I make out? Well, here's the rough tally:

1. Watch strap. Managed to buy the wrong size even though I held the stupid watch up to the measuring gauge TWICE, so the pins were slightly too short to stay in the holes. No matter; I just stole some pins from an old watch that I'm not using at the moment. I'd need to buy a new strap for that watch anyway if I decide to put a new battery in it, so no worries there. And the fact that the strap itself is a millimetre too narrow doesn't really matter. It'll do fine until I destroy it. Erm, watch on right wrist (I'm a lefty, remember) + mousing with right hand = frequent strap replacement. Or at least more frequent than most people.

2. Bra. I don't know yet. I always need to wear a bra a bit (and maybe give it a wash) before I'm sure whether I hate it or not. I'll probably end up hating it, though. That seems to be my average with bras. And yes, I do know my proper size, or at least I'm told that I do. I just don't have a good eye for styles, I guess.

3. Coat. Oh, this one's kind of funny. I was only sort of in the market for a new fall coat because my old one's still serviceable although heading slowly to ratty, but these looked decent and the price was right (righter than I thought, actually. It rang in for $10 cheaper than I was expecting). I've been reluctant to give up my old coat, really. It's a fleece with a wind/rain resistant layer that ended up to be much better than I was expecting at the time. Plus, it's purple. I like purple but I don't wear it often (or not as often as I used to). Having a purple coat's been handy for doing programs, though, especially with older kids who might be taller than me. I'd gotten into the habit of telling them to "follow the ugly purple coat" so that they'd remember to keep an eye on me on the trails. But now I have this new one. This new... ugly purple coat. Hey, you didn't think I'd give up the purple when I had the chance not to, right?

4. Sleep tank top. It's a sleep tank top. What more can I say about a sleep tank top other than the fact that it's NOT made in Bangladesh? Well, I could tell you that it's purple.

5. Tinted lip balm. Yep. Unless it turns you orange or gives you blisters, I think it's pretty safe.

6. The big tub of Halloween candy that's currently sitting on my desk. Hey, who else is going to keep this joint properly sugared up?



And that's it. Not too bad; only one impulse purchase, and now I shouldn't have to suffer Big Box Land until at least Christmas. I suppose that counts as a run and not a miss after all, then. But I'm not going to bother changing the post title at this point...

Random jewellery moment

But first...

I follow a few of what are known as curated Twitter accounts -- accounts that are run by a rotation of different people for a period of time, generally representing a country or region. For anyone interested, ours is @PeopleofCanada.  Obviously the content of the tweets vary from person to person, but by far the most interestingly quirky (and, I think it's fair to say, the original curated account) is @sweden. This week's in particular I've been finding particularly entertaining. Where else would you find someone who gives tutorials in cooking with your coffee maker? No, I'm not kidding. And please check out the link. It's awesome.

Incidentally, my office mate Wheat will be @PeopleofCanada in a coming week. This ought to be  interesting. He doesn't have any opinions at all.

Now, the weird thing in the pointless photo. It's my hand.

No, that's not the weird part. And shut up if you thought it was.

That thing on my pinkie, all appearances to the contrary, is not a fingernail ring. It's a visitor from the 90s, and I happen to be wearing it right now.

Not on my finger; on my ear. For those too young to remember (I'm working with people this summer who were born in the 90s, fer pity's sake. You kids get off of my lawn), that's an ear cuff. It doesn't go through a piercing. It just sort of clips on to your ear. Hang on, I'll find a picture of one that's not on a pinkie finger. There you go.  Think of the one I'm holding in my picture more like the one on the right than on the left.

Ear cuffs were big when I was in high school. I had (and still have. Never threw them out, cheap junk as they were) several of them with gaudy dangly bits, including a rhinstonish one that had an earring on the end of a chain so that you could hook your cuff up with your earlobe. It's a beaut, that. I should take a picture of it sometime just for fun.

I did the ear cuffs in a big way in high school, but when I went to University at the end of the 80s I became too busy and sciency (junk jewellery and dissection labs? Not generally a good fit) to bother with much but my gold studs joined by a chain. Um, two piercings in each lobe, remember. Two studs joined by a chain is a pretty fast way to fill all of your holes without fussing. In fact, I'm wearing the same earrings today for the same exact reason.

Sometime in the early 90s I was browsing a handmade jewellery store in HUB Mall when I came across the cuff you see above. It's simple: a silver (real silver. I was a grown-up by then, after all -- I was too -- and was starting to value real over junk flash) ball surrounded by a silver wire. Simple. Understated. Easy. I bought my first ear cuff in years.

Wore it, too. For quite a long time. Then it got put away, like things do.

When I did that silly bit of cleaning out my jewellery box and taking pointless photos of the contents a while ago (just hit the it's the box label below if you really want to see that stupidity), all of the ear cuffs came out too. Most of them are godawful. The one above, though? Seemed like it might be worth a polish.

So I did.

And started wearing it again. And still do. Sometimes even instead of earrings. It's easier.

When I first started wearing it again one of our staffers noticed it with interest and asked where I got the ear cuff.

I told her the truth.



The 90s.

----------

Just an aside, since I seem to be in the mood to talk type jewellery. I put my wrist brace on this morning (the wrist is doing pretty well now, but I'm still wearing my lighter brace to keep from reinjuring it) and decided that I was tired of wearing wrist braces. But I need to wear the wrist brace. What to do, then?

I'm, um, currently wearing a wrist brace with a bracelet on it. Yeah, I know. And you're NOT getting a pointless photo of that smooth move, no matter how nicely you ask.

Chapter 1767: Wherein Dee is confused by clothing

Today's pointless photo? Not clothing.

----------

Just recently at work we've (well, they've. I've had a tangential say, but that's about it) decided to order a few new articles of uniform for core staff. By core staff, I mean the people who are around all year wearing the uniform shirts, as opposed to the seasonal staff who have less time to get bored &/or annoyed by putting on the same shirts every day. It's not the first time we've had other choices for core staff. I already have a hoodie which I almost never wear (I used to have two hoodies that I almost never wear, but I gave one back so that someone else could have a go at not wearing it), and a collared shirt made of some ungodly super-wicking super-unflattering synthetic material. That I almost never wear.

I'm not sounding like the best market for alternatives here, am I?

The new order has, I think, more hoodies for those who actually do wear them, more super-unflattering synthetic golf shirts (but in a darker colour this time so of course that makes it all better. Who knows? Maybe it might), and... vests.

I don't get vests.

Why are vests?

Speaking as someone who is extra-sensitive to the cold, I just don't understand vests. The first parts of my body to react on cold days are my extremities, so let's choose a piece of clothing that doesn't actually cover any of them? Huh? I mean, I get the whole fashion vest thing (and back when vests were last fashionable I did wear them now and then), but as a piece of protective outdoor clothing -- which these vests are meant to be -- I find them incredibly pointless.

I don't get vests.

I politely turned down the opportunity for a vest. That I would almost never wear.

Honestly, I figured that act might have been appreciated more than it was. After all, I work for a non-profit. Shouldn't it be a good thing when an employee of a non-profit turns down a piece of clothing that she wouldn't wear and that would cost her employer money that could be spent on, say, a few more t-shirts for the seasonal staff?

Apparently not.

Apparently it caused enough consternation that I wouldn't be getting a vest that I was offered the chance to get a similar jacket instead, as long as I paid into it since the jackets are more expensive than the vests (which, by the way, fair enough. A person should pay into a special request).

I turned down the jacket, too. I really don't care whether I have a vest or a jacket or a pom-pommed beanie, for that matter.

I'd probably almost never wear it anyway.





Should be end of story, but the reason I'm telling you this is that I have sort of an uneasy feeling that my (to me, very logical) sartorial choices at  work aren't going to sit as well as they should with my boss when he gets back from vacation. I'll keep you posted.

Maybe I'll include a pointless photo of my (sigh) vest.

Quick pointless sock photo of the day:

Well, of course it's a pointless sock photo. My socks don't have points, so a picture of them won't have points either. Right?

Anyway, the socks. They're Christmas socks, and they're about to be featured in their first ever planetarium program.

Confused yet? Ok, here goes:

I generally do planetarium programs in stocking feet. It's not good for the fabric in the entrance tunnel to have a bunch of dirty shoes all over it, and besides, it's much more comfortable for me and my screwed-up ankle to not be bothered with bootage when I'm sitting on the floor pointing at stars and constellations. So, socks.

I try to make at least a small effort to wear non-churchy (that is, not very holey) socks when I do planetarium since the lights aren't off the whole time. Didn't quite succeed yesterday, but with the amount of sleep I got it was sort of amazing that I remembered to put on socks at all. Today's a little less sleepy, though, so I remembered to put on something in better repair before I left.

Christmas socks.

Fuzzy Christmas socks.

Fuzzy Christmas socks with polka dots that I have a feeling the ECS class I'm doing the show for today might appreciate. Little kids tend to notice things like that.

Especially when it's fuzzy polka-dotted socks on an adult...

Honestly, I kind of get a kick out of colourful socks. There's a makeover show on the not-so-much-learning-anymore channel that would have you believe that anything other than bland socks is an abomination, but what's wrong with having a little footwear fun? As I was saying to Wheat just now, especially in a business context goofy socks might be the only way that a man in a suit can show some individuality.

And around here in this much more casual office atmosphere, fuzzy socks almost demand to be seen during planetarium programs.

My planetarium programs, anyway.



I just wrote an entire blog post about socks, you'll notice. Did I mention the fact that I have a cold? I don't think that my stuffy brain could handle a heavier topic. Not even penny heavy. The pennies will just have to wait again.

Poor pennies. Nobody loves you anymore.

Back to work for me, now. Time to earn more pennies if I'm going to have more socks.

Stocking caps. Yes, really.

What? The blog says pointless right in the title, and there can't be too many things more pointless than a discussion of stocking caps.

Today's pointless photo was taken on a whim this morning, and wasn't posed at all. That's my stocking cap on top of my coat in a corner of my old bedroom here at my father's place (which also used to be my studio when I was still teaching singing, in case you wondered why I have a piano in my bedroom). And, erm, yes... I do have a habit of just throwing my coat onto the floor of the room when I'm here. Not sure why, since I do have a place to hang it. Just laziness, I guess.

Anyway, there's my stocking cap. One of my stocking caps. I have a Christmas one, too, in the same pattern but with sparkly Christmas yarn. I guess we're past the season for that one, though. The fact that the stocking cap was thrown on top of my coat should probably tell you that I arrived here wearing said stocking cap. In public. Probably looking like a complete doofus.

I don't care. I like my stocking cap.

I posted about the Christmas one a couple of years ago here, and since then the blog gets regular hits from stocking cap searches. I suppose that means that I'm not the only one who likes stocking caps. Unfortunately (at least for the googlers that arrived at that other post), most of the searches were looking for a stocking cap pattern, not just a stocking cap mention.. I thought a little bit about copying out the pattern and posting it here to make up for the lack of pattern in the previous post, but even in this internet age of massive plagiarism I just don't feel right about reposting a copyrighted pattern. For the experienced knitters out there, then, I'll just say that this particular pattern features about 3 cm of rib knit (say about an inch and a quarter). Knit in some elastic if you don't want the weight of the finished product to pull it right off of your head. When you start the body of the toque (toque = Canadian for knit winter hat, for any of my two fans who don't recognise the term), increase for a few rows before you start decreasing. It makes the cap fit a head better than if you decrease right away. Length to aim for? Well, this one comes out to about a metre (around a yard) all told. Finally, you'll be able to knit most of the thing on circular needles, but you need double-ended needles to finish.

I suck at knitting with double-ended needles, which is why the ends of my caps are a bit wonky. I doubt you'd have noticed if I hadn't mentioned it, but now that I have everyone can see, right?

And why bother knitting a stocking cap at all, other than the pleasure of looking like a complete doofus? Well, it's a handy way to use up leftover skeins of yarn if you do it all stripey like I did. Also, it saves the bulk of a scarf on a cold day. The reason for the length (and the reason that I wouldn't bother going less than a metre) is that you can wrap it around your neck in place of a scarf. Yesterday it was -25C when I left for work (seems to me that I might have said a little something about that), and this thing kept my head and face warm even while scraping the windshield.

It didn't do much for my poor fingers, but then even a stocking cap can't do everything.

I've complained that I've had a little trouble so far thinking of subjects to take photos of with the new camera; maybe I should be gathering my doofy hat collection together and doing portraits with them? Not of me, of course, but of the hats. Maybe occasionally the top of my head, but that's as far as I'm willing to go. I do have enough doofy hats to keep that kind of a series going for a bit, come to think of it. That's what tends to happen when a person with a short attention span decides to knit. The thought of an afghan or a sweater is kind of terrifying, so you end up with dishcloths, scarves, or doofy hats.





Good thing I like doofy hats.

Well, here's yer snow...

Sigh. That's what fifteen-to-twenty (never did hear the final tally for this area) cm looks like. And below you'll see the tracks I left when I came out to take the photo.

Doesn't exactly put me in the best frame of mind.

Well, that, and that fact that my head still isn't working right, which is why I stayed an extra night at my father's place rather than drive back yesterday. No choice today, though, although I'm very seriously wondering how I'm going to deal with tomorrow's early morning, cold, and double planetarium when I'm not sure if either my voice or my brain will be working.

And did I mention cold? Yeah. -26C this morning, apparently. It's supposed to warm up (in fact, I'm planning to wait until it warms up at least a half-dozen degrees more before I leave. Hear me, temperature?), but tomorrow morning's supposed to be below -20C again. Hmmm. Non-working head, non-working voice, early morning, and likely hives from the cold? Sounds like tomorrow's going to be freaking AMAZING.

I may not bother to blog. You probably won't want to be bothered with my mood if I do.

Anyway, that's all I've got for today. Time to go find some lunch, and then convince myself at some point this afternoon to hit the road.

Oh, one other thing. Oscars? Boring. Clothes? Needed colour. Guys? For the most part ok (I love you and your smoking jacket, Christopher Plummer!), but a few of you still need the bow tie lesson. But at least I've already found two different websites diametrically opposed to each other in their picks for best and worst dressed, which is all I really look for after an awards ceremony to make me happy. I get sort of an unreasonable thrill when one so-called expert picks a best that is absolutely another's worst. Shows how absurd the whole thing really is, and I like that sort of absurdity.

And now, the end is near...

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.

----------

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.

----------

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.

----------

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.

Purple hat

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...

Doofy hat

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.

Weird

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?...

Pants

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 evening dress to the UK parents.





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

J'Adorn

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...