Chickens

This is what's going on at work at the moment. Day-old chicks that will eventually go to the historic site that we run out of this office. They're cute, noisy, and chickens.

I'm not a fan, really.

Oh, I get the whole urban chicken movement, and as long as you only have a couple I'm sure that it's fine. I grew up down the hill from a commercial chicken operation, though. We called it a hatchery, but I think it was a pullet farm. At any rate, my memories of chickens are the exciting smells of the neighbourhood when they opened the barn doors on hot days to air things out.



Yep. You can keep your cute little chicks, friends.

This other thing is just a bit of silliness from a pointless but fun app called Magic Fluids. I'll let you look it up for yourselves, if you're interested. The only reason that I kept this particular iteration is that it looked vaguely space-ish. If you squint right, maybe. Anyway, it's fun and harmless and that's kind of my thing at the moment.



Say it with me now: back to work for me.

Not a cat photo of the day:

 I just thought that we needed a a break. So here's an apple tree instead of a cat photo.





Oh, all right. One cat photo.

What is is with cats and cardboard, anyway? I mean, this one doesn't even qualify as a box.



The cardboard, that is. Although the cat also doesn't qualify as a box.



Last I checked, anyway.

Something

O spider I see in the vanity sink,
they say that you've been there two days.
I think you should probably find your way out
or someone will flush you away.

I 'spose if the sides are too steep for escape
You're likely in need of some help.
Yeah, I'll grab a cup and then scoot you up top,
but next time please do this yourself.

 NO, I HAVE NOT LOST MY MIND. It's just Bad Poetry Day. And apparently copyrighted for profit, according to that link. Kinda figures, doesn't it? And yes, I wrote a poem about a spider (which I really did save this morning, to no one's surprise who's ever read this blog. It was a European House Spider. How sad is it that I knew the scientific name without even looking it up? Anyway, I let it go so that it could keep eating things in the basement. Incidentally, I do understand if people are creeped out by this particular species. Long legs, very scurry-y... they're harmless, though. Um -- what was I saying before I started on this?) and accompanied it with picture of fish. It wouldn't have been pointless otherwise, would it?

Just for fun, I put a modified version of the first line of my bad poem through this poetry generator a few times and got this:

Spider in the bathroom sink
While I sit all alone singin the blues........
though i never knew what was in the flue.
Grey souls, Grey shoes I've even got grey blues.

Deep, man. Deep.

I actually have been a bit of a poetry writer over the years, but this is the first one I've written in I don't know how long. It's like most of my hobbies, really. I'll go totally gangbusters on something (poetry, knitting, needlework, I-bet-some-of-you-are-expecting-me-to-say-doodling-but-I've-never-really-given-that-up) for a while -- sometimes years -- and then completely drop it for sometimes years. I'm pretty cyclical, though. Hobbies never seem to totally go away, and the return is easily triggered. Say a person (ok, me) hasn't knitted for a while, and then notices that the homemade dish cloth is getting ratty. Well, you take out the cotton yarn and the needles and you whip up a quick dish cloth. Then you think about the fact that you haven't made a new toque for a while and get out the patterns. Then you find yourself frequenting the yarn aisle looking for something that would do for a fuzzy but not too fuzzy throw...

And then you get tired of knitting and remember that you probably still have some embossing paper hanging around here somewhere.

I'm a natural born dabbler, I guess. It's good for my job, though. I can do a little bit of a lot of things, and when you're trying to think of programming ideas that can be handy.

Anyway, lunch time now. If you're at all interested in my poems from back when I was regularly writing (some good, some ok, some definitely a good fit for Bad Poetry Day) there's a few at this link from the other blog. And just for fun, here's a last word from the poetry generator. First line's mine. The rest? The universe, I suppose:

Cows, cows
End this charade now, disguise not your battered soul.
I see her now!!!! 
The shock of never rips through my soul.

My toy makes new friends again

Today's pointless photo is not of my toy. It's part of an amaryllis.

And why only part?

I was bored, I guess.

----------

So, I had breakfast at McDonald's this morning. Not, I should say, part of my normal routine. You know, in case anyone wondered. I had breakfast at McDonald's because I had to get my car out of the apartment parking lot before 8 am since they're actually going to clear it (not part of THEIR normal routine. We hardly get the lot cleared all winter). A bit late for me, by the way, since I already managed to turn my ankle in the parking lot on Monday, but better than nothing. Anyway, in order to avoid the threatened tag-and-tow I figured that I may just as well make my semi-annual McMuffin run.

It really is only semi-annual. Three times a year at the most. I just get a craving for a bacon and egg McMuffin for some reason, and when I've had one I don't need one again for months. Pretty safe craving, overall.

Breakfast at McDonald's always makes me laugh a little because I tend to forget that the place is such a hangout in the mornings. A whole lot of seniors -- mostly men, for whatever reason -- sitting with their coffees and their newspapers. It's like a club. Legion Light.

Seniors aren't the only people there, of course. There are also, apparently, people with toys.

For those new to the program I should explain that when I refer to my toy I'm meaning my 3DS. I get a kick out of carrying my 3DS around, because when a 3DS locates another 3DS it makes a new friend.

No, seriously.

It's got its own little social media thing going on. When your 3DS finds another 3DS you acquire the Mii from that system and you get to play games with it. It's all a bit silly (especially for someone my age, yes), but it's a fun little nerd locator. You get home, you take the thing out of your bag, you see the green light, and you've found another nerd.

And the nerd finds this nerd in return, naturally.

Nintendo upped the nerd ante not long ago by making it so that if you go to a so-called Nintendo Zone with your nerdfinder you make friends with the last person who was there even if there's no one with a 3DS around at the moment. McDonald's are Nintendo Zones. I knew I'd capture a nerd.

Well, I got five of them. Must have been a busy nerd breakfast.

Anyway, it looks like I'll be playing some nerd games when I get home. And they better have that parking lot cleared when I get there, by the way. After all, 8 am at a McDonald's finding nerds is not my preferred way to start the morning...

----------

Tea of the day:  Chai Guarana. Needed a buzz after the way my day started.

I can't remember if I had a post topic.

I think I might have, and then work things came up, and then Wheat decided we needed to hear Springtime for Hitler, and then more work things came up, and then I needed to eat some Rockets. And then we went for a walk.

It's a funny thing, working at a nature centre, but we're actually encouraged to go for walks. Sometimes it's to meet the public, sometimes it's to check general maintenance, but most times it's just to get outside.

Unfortunately, in this computer-driven world, sometimes it's hard even here to get away from the desk. We all should, though, even if you don't happen to have a sanctuary out your back door. It's important to look at something that isn't a screen to give your brain a chance to reset.

My brain's reset enough now that I honestly can't think what this blog post was meant to be. So in lieu of sense or even blather, have a random duck bum.

It's so fresh off the camera that it doesn't have a photo title or anything.

I should have called it Random Duck Bum, really. Would have made sense.

Quick nose-thumbing to coffee drinkers

One of the benefits of drinking tea is that when you suddenly realise that you never finished your morning cuppa (or, with the size of today's mugs, twocuppa) and that even an insulated travel mug can't keep it warm for that many hours, IT'S STILL DRINKABLE. And enjoyable, even.

Do that with yer silly coffee, will ya?

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.

Random bird

It's a Waxwing, being waxwingish. As they do.

I'm kind of busy with work here at work (again, yes. this is getting serious), so the bird is going to have to do you for today. I took this shot here at work yesterday when I was out taking pictures for the work blog. They're up on the work blog now, if you're interested.

What? You don't know where the work blog is? Well, there's a link on the work website.

Don't know where the work website is? I guess you'll have to look for it then.

Where?


Geez, do I have to do everything for you people? E-mail me if you're actually interested.

Don't know my e-mail?





Sigh. It's on the other blog if you're desperate.

Don't know where the other blog is?

Ok, I draw the line there. Check the freaking sidebar already.



Gotta go now.

I've said this before

So, yeah, déjà vu literally. Still, it's my excuse for the day, so here goes:

The problem with having not really blogged for a week (over a week at this point, I guess) is that when I do get a chance to blog I tend to go one of two ways. I either have so many ideas that I don't know where to start, or I haven't bothered to think of any ideas because I haven't needed them.

Guess which way today's going? You shouldn't have to, because if I'd had any sort of idea at all you'd already be reading it.

Sigh. I really feel the need to put something semi-substantial here, though. After all, my stats tell me that my two fans have been checking in, waiting. Why, I don't know. Pointless is in the title for a reason (as I've said repeatedly. Seems to be the theme of the post), and it seems to me that the internet is crammed full of other places to be pointless. Still, loyalty -- even to pointlessness -- should be rewarded. Sooo...

hmmm...

Well, there was a porcupine in the front yard here at Dad's last night. It scrounged around a bit to see what was edible, then squeezed through the hedge and ambled off across the road to see if there were better pickings at the neighbour's place. Across the road wasn't the best move because the hill's pretty busy and I might have got to witness the last act of Death of a Porcupine, but this time he was lucky and just waddled off into the sunset. Or would have, if it hadn't already been dark.

Today's pointless photo isn't of a porcupine.

I don't have a picture of the porcupine. It was dark, I was looking through a picture window, and there wouldn't have been any point in trying a long exposure.

However.

I also don't have a picture of the mulie buck who sauntered through the next-door neighbour's yard the other week when I was here. Here, outside with the new camera, taking photos. Of, erm, watering cans. And snow. And when the deer came through, I watched him.

While holding the camera.

Sigh, again. Especially since I had the camera set on autofocus at the time and wouldn't have had to do anything but point it.

See, there's a reason why I take pictures of flowers and spiders and, erm, watering cans. They give me time to think. Process. Maybe even frame a composition, although even that's not necessary in these days of digital editing. They're more my speed.

Let's face it -- I'm a slow photographer, and one who hasn't yet learned to remember that the new camera has a three-at-once setting. Come on, Dee. Point, shoot, shoot again. One of the six resulting shots might actually be something.

Or not. And it wouldn't matter anyway since it's digital and you're not wasting film. Try anyway, silly woman.

Incidentally, I'm the only one allowed to call myself silly woman. Just so you know.



Ah well. I'll figure it out eventually. And even if I don't, give it a few weeks (yeah, I'm all about the optimism today) and there'll be flowers and spiders and watering cans...

Oh, right. There's already watering cans. I suppose I should go out and take some pictures, then.

Maybe the buck will do me a favour and come back.



And stand still long enough that I can pretend it's a watering can.

Sorry, no socks today

I mean, I'm wearing socks, obviously (or maybe not obviously. But since it's winter in Alberta, you should probably assume that I'm wearing socks), but I'm not going to borrow the work camera again to take a pointless photo of them. You'd like them, though. They're red and white stripey, like the Cat in the Hat's socks.

Oh, no, not his socks. Does he even wear socks? I meant his hat.

Anyway, no socks today, so instead it's back to Weird Things in my Apartment.

echo echo echo...

These, obviously, are SD cards. Familiar to everyone, and not especially weird. The one on the left came with my old camera (yes, boys and girls, they used to supply memory cards with cameras. Tiny, tiny memory cards). The one on the right is one I bought at Wally World as an upgrade when they had a good sale (sorry, roll back). A whole 64 meg, and I think I paid about $30 for it.

No, not in the stone age. And you kids get off of my lawn.

So what's weird in this installment of weird things?

I've kept these cards.



The one on  the left wouldn't even hold one picture from a modern camera on the largest setting, but I've held on to it. I'm not a hoarder by any standard, but I've kept these cards.





If that isn't weird, I'd like to know what exactly qualifies as weird in your universe. Me 'n my socks have to go get ready for this afternoon's planetariuming now.

No post of the weekend:

No time to post.

No actual topic even if I did have time to post.

No computer tomorrow.

No recent pointless photos.

No point to this, so...

No pumpkin-time for the blog yet.



No real way to end this...

Alan the pumpkin

I currently have a green pumpkin sitting on the table in my apartment. Its name is Alan (I must have been very, very tired when I texted that to Wheat).

Alan's the one on the far left in this photo, which is dangerously not pointless. Or at least not too pointless. I've always said that this blog would turn into a pumpkin if that ever happened...

I have no idea what I'm going to do with Alan.

I have Alan because I did some pumpkin flower pollinating while I was housesitting at Dad's place in the summer, and I'm pretty sure that Alan was the result of one of those manipulations. Oh, for more on that, check this old post from the other blog. I'm not in the mood to repeat the story. Ignore the horrible doodle, though... or more to the point, the horrible scan. Anyway, Alan probably owes its life to me, so to speak, so when Dad cut the pumpkins because of a frost risk last weekend, I took Alan home with me.

I have no idea what I'm going to do with Alan. Did I mention?

I also have no idea how long a green pumpkin can last in a fairly warm apartment before it starts to turn into a stinky mess. What do you suppose my chances are that this thing'll orange up and last all the way to Halloween? I'm not averse to making a jack o'lantern, but I suspect that I may be parting ways with Alan long before that happens. It's over a month, after all. I have it sitting on a towel in my fruit basket so that I can (well, at least I hope I can) avoid the rotten bottom problem of sitting on a hard flat surface (the pumpkin, that is. Not me), but still. A month. Does anyone out there really think that Alan can go a whole month?

Ah well, we'll see. And in the meantime, I've got Alan for company, I suppose. I know it doesn't look especially big in the photo, but put it on a smallish table in a small apartment, and it becomes sort of unavoidable.

I haven't started talking to it.



Yet.

I have no idea what I'm going to do with Alan...

Chapter 1637: Wherein Dee needlessly talks about pickles

While posting a photo of mountain ash berries. As you do.

So. Pickles. And why pickles? Because I so much don't want to talk about what's been going on in my life (or, more properly, someone else's life as I said yesterday) that I've decided to blather about one of the most inconsequential and pointless topics I could think of.

Thus, pickles. I like pickles. I had a pickle for breakfast today. Well, not just a pickle, of course. I was having cheese and crackers and decided to add a pickle just for the heck of it.

I like pickles, but I'm the first to admit that I'm a little fussy about them. My regular resort as far as pickles go at the moment is kosher-style (actual kosher would be fine too, naturally, but they aren't all that easy to find around here) baby dill cucumber pickles. The baby part is a must. I don't care for mushy pickles, and in a processed pickle (as opposed to a fresh pickle, I mean) it's almost impossible to get non-mushy in anything bigger than a baby dill. I like my pickles dilly and sour and garlicky, and I want to see actual pieces of that garlic in the brine.

Notice that I'm not telling you a favourite company name, here. I'm not about to start advertising pickles, and anyway I've had decent pickles that fulfill the above requirements from several different companies.

What I don't like? Bread and butter pickles. Gherkins, except for a couple of recipes I have where that specific taste is necessary. Hey, I don't even particularly like hamburger relish. Not a sweet pickle person at all, me.

And non-cucumber pickles? I'm of two minds about them, and I'll tell you why. I grew up on my grandmother's pickles. She pickled cucumbers, as you'd expect, but she also pickled things like carrots and onions. I was used to the cucumber pickles. Had them all the time. I was a bit of a fussy eater, though, so I nener really tried any of the other pickles. My mother never would have given me the onions in the first place, because I was (admittedly) weird about onions. It was the texture, you see. I was fine with fried onions. I could handle finely diced onions in sauces and things. Big chunks of cooked onion just really felt wrong. If we ordered onion rings, I would pull out the onion part and just eat the batter. I liked the taste, but not the feel. Raw onions? Forget it. If a burger came with raw onions, I wouldn't eat it until every last vestige was removed from my sight.

I'm, um, better about that now. And anyway, back to the pickles.

I'm sure my mom just didn't think it was worth the fight to have me eat pickled onions, so I never have. Never in my life. I have, however, had a pickled carrot. ONE pickled carrot, well over thirty years ago. It was so much not what I expected (hey, I couldn't even tell you whether it was good) that I never tried one after that. Carrots just weren't supposed to be like that. It freaked me out.

Don't even get me started on pickled cauliflower. The carrot did it for me as a kid.

Now? I honestly don't know what I'd think of those non-cucumber pickles. Even if I wanted to try some I don't really have the avenue anymore. They're not exactly common on store shelves. Ok, well, pickled onions are, but I'm not sure I'd go out of my way for them. Seems silly to buy a jar of onion pickles without having the slightest clue whether you'd even eat them. As for other pickled vegetables, I know I could go down to the farmers' markets and probably have my choice if I was curious, but I so rarely make it to the markets even for the stuff that I know I like that the idea of making a special pickle trip is fairly ridiculous.

As is this post.

I think I'll go have lunch now. Maybe a grilled cheese and leftover pork roast sandwich.





With a pickle, of course.

What's in my ears today

Yes, this is a pointless photo of the side of my head. Taken with my 3DS, since I feel a bit odd using the work camera for silliness like this. And don't you love how artfully I'm backlit?

And why is this here?

Weird mood.

Tends to happen when I get some sleep.

And yes, there will be no bricks thrown at my head today. Thank you to those who were willing to perform that service, though.

I suppose that the weirdest thing about this particular silliness is that there is absolutely nothing noteworthy about the jewellery you see. Blue-something-or-other stones (they were a gift, and I can't remember what they are. I'm mostly wearing them because they go not too badly with my grandma's blue topaz pendant and ring. Which, for some reason, you don't see in this picture of my ear...) in a silver setting so in need of polishing that it looks antiqued, amethyst studs that don't go with anything else I'm wearing but for some reason were in the same jewellery box cubby that the blue things were, and a silver wire cuff that I got back in university.

Yep, my ears lead an exciting life.

So does my blog, apparently.

----------

I have a new favourite thing. I haven't tried it yet, but the video instructions alone have made it my new favourite thing. I'm not sure if I should share it with you (oh, I probably will),  but the reason I'm mentioning it here is that it's a simple, fairly nerdy thing but everyone around here that I've shown the video to thinks it's a pretty neat thing too.

I love days when my nerdity is vindicated.

----------

Ok, one more thing in this mixed bag of a post. Hey, I missed a few days. I'm allowed to have some bottled-up thoughts.

The music's on in the office today. Wheat's on holidays, and it's not unusual for me to have the internet radio on when I've got the place to myself. Not that Wheat would object to the music, really; it's just that this way I don't have to make sure that my choices suit both of us. Today it's a combo of blues, adult alternative, and sixties pop, which has sort of been my go-to for the last few weeks. It gives me a fair amount to sing along with.

Yes, sing along. I sing along with the radio, and not subtly. I chair dance, as well. Also not subtly, although I think it's probably a little bit impossible to chair dance subtly.

I like to sing. I sing to myself like other people mumble. Erm, also not subtly on that one, as I've been told. Not obnoxiously, but maybe a touch louder than a lot of people would. I mean, we're not talking concert volume here -- just enough that people can easily tell what song is currently in my head when I walk down the hallway.

I think that more people should do that, actually. Don't you think that the world would be a better place if we all carried around a slight public hint of our life soundtrack with us?

Well...

Maybe it would depend on the soundtrack, I guess. And it might get a little old after a while.




It'd be amusing as heck for a little bit, though.

----------

That's going to be it, especially since the largest part of my lunch hour has been taken up by this nonsense. I'll stop typing now, then.

Bye.





Oh, you really thought that I was going to forget? Nah. Here it is: my new favourite thing.

Just don't put your eye out, ok?

Leftover hobbies

I used to teach singing. Oh, wait. I got paid for that. Maybe it doesn't count as a hobby, then. I did, however, also have a children's choir that I didn't get paid for, so the hobby thing still applies somewhat.

I did those things.

Past tense.

I'm not likely to do them ever again, as far as I can tell.

It's not that I didn't enjoy them. Well, the teaching bit got a little old, but that was partly because I was doing it on weekends after a full work week (as full as a part-time job gets, anyway) when I just wanted to not be working.

That, and the vocalises. Spending your Saturday mornings listening to vocalises and other exercises and marking theory papers is about as fun as it sounds.

Anyway. The point of this was that I did do those things, but I don't now.

The problem is that the leftovers don't just go away once you're done.

My room -- and former studio -- at my father's place is filled with music. There's a filing cabinet full of choral music (as well as all the binders that I'd put the currently-used music in) and a shelf full of teaching stuff. And that's not even mentioning the pile of books on the piano.

Um, yeah. My bedroom at my father's place is full of music AND a piano. And it's not like it's a big room, either.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what to do with all of it. With the exception of the piano, although I suppose I think of that, too. I'm not saying that I'd get rid of it all, especially since I still use a lot of the books for my own personal singing, but the old Conservatory books aren't doing me much good anymore (and wow, is their website ugly), and the choral music is being wasted just sitting there.

I feel a bit guilty about it just sitting there, to be honest.

And while I feel guilty, the cat is thinking "why are you taking photos of music on your unmade bed, doofus? And why is there a duck behind me?" I'm not entirely sure on both counts, really. I do at least know that the photo on the shelf is the U of A Mixed Chorus, circa late 80's, of which I was a member.

I'm standing behind the duck.

Um, anyway. About the music. I'm thinking very seriously about donating the choral music to the church that lent me practice space when I still had the choir. I don't think they have a junior choir at the moment, but they might in the future. A lot of the music -- especially the holiday pieces -- would do for the adult choir, anyway. At any rate, the music's more likely to get used if it's out in the community, so it sort of makes sense.

I think.

Maybe I should phone them first. You know, rather than dumping a few boxes of music and running.

As for the rest... oh, I don't know. I suppose I'll find something when the time comes that I need to find something. It's just too bad that leftovers don't automatically poof away when the hobby's no longer a hobby, is all.

And as for the cat? I'm assuming that he'll keep being judgemental. It seems to be his forte.





And as for the duck?...

Pointless photo of the day:

You knew I had to, right? Again.

And anyway, it was two ladybirds for the price of one.

This is all you're getting for a post, by the way. I don't have the head for a blather, and I have a program coming up in about a half an hour as well.

I don't have the head for the program either, but there's not much choice in the matter there.

I really should post something besides yet another ladybird, though, shouldn't I?

Maybe.

Oh, what the heck:

Nanking Cherry. And a bear planter in the background.

There might have been a ladybird in the planter.

I didn't check.

Going now.

Ladybird!

You know I had to at this point, right?

I'm not sure what you're going to get for a post, but I've brought it on myself. First I decided to start mucking about with the blog template a bit (and I hope you people aren't sick of the pansies yet, because I'm getting a little fond of them). Then I forgot that Dad's (older) computer has started nearly locking up during scans since his last antivirus update.

Needless to say, this happened right in the middle of my mucking about with the template. I'd finished doing what I wanted to do with the other blog, but I'd only just started on this one. After an enforced break I had to start all over again here because I hadn't saved any changes.

Did I mention that I also still had yesterday's photos to edit? And that I still want to get back to my place in plenty of time to do something with my balcony planters? It is May Long, after all (a.k.a. May Two Four a.k.a. Victoria Day Weekend, the traditional date around here for getting stuff into the garden)...

Yep, the blog's short shrifted again.

Anyway. Oh, and just to be fair, a non-ladybird photo:

You're looking at a piece of my childhood here, folks. This is Buffalo Bean (or Golden Bean, to some people), and it's one of the earlier wildflowers around here. My mother received a lot of Buffalo Bean and Early Blue Violet bouquets when I was a kid.

They, erm, neither of them make very good bouquets.

Still, it's the thought, right?

I took this at an abandoned place across the street from my father's house. We used to call it the Old Barn House, because (oddly enough) it was a converted barn. The house has long since been torn down and no one's bought the property. It can be a surprisingly good place to look for wildflowers now, and there's a fox den in the side of the old foundation hole.

Across the street from my Dad's place, yes.

In town.

What? You don't have that at your childhood home.





Too bad, is all I can say.

Going to get some lunch now. Will I keep the current look for the blogs? For a little while, at least. Every place needs renovation now and then.

Catch you later.

New photo!

It's Mountain Ash (aka Rowan to some of you). Oh, and there might be a ladybird in there somewhere as well maybe.

Sorry, I couldn't resist. Even if it is sort of a useless shot. I promise that there's some not-ladybird photos coming up soon.

Did you notice the guest appearance by the photographer's shadow, by the way?

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I was intending to make this an actual, readable (well, as readable as they get, anyway) blather today, but I'm not sure how it's going to go since the neck's not all that happy. For those new to the program, my mother was kind enough to genetically gift me with her chronically bad neck, and every once in a while mine goes through periods of trying to make sure that I'm immobile. I'm not immobile at the moment, but for the last two days I've had the grinding and the occasional twinge that remind me that one wrong move could mean not turning my head for a while. At this stage it's just inconvenient (although I'll have a heck of a headache by the end of the day from not being lined up right), but it's sooo much fun to know that all I have to do is sleep wrong tonight and tomorrow will consist of me and my bed getting to know each other very well.

There's your warning, I suppose.

Ok, since I've already brought the topic up, let me add one more thing to it. As I'm sure any of you who have an ongoing health issue know, the world is full of suggesters. The people who wonder if you've tried *fill in the blank*, I mean. Some of them are very innocent suggesters who think that maybe you've just never heard of *fill in the blank*, some of them are "expert" suggesters who just know that everything would be fine if you'd only try *fill in the blank*, some of them have family who were instantly cured by *fill in the blank*... you get where I'm going, I hope. I try to be patient. I really do. It's generally well-meaning. It's just... well, I've been dealing with this for years. There are things that I've tried, there are things that I refuse to try (someday I'll probably blow a gasket and go off on a rant about the religion of one particular pseudoscience the next time it's suggested that I try it, but for now I'll just leave you to guess what it might be), there are things that just plain don't work, and I've probably heard about all of them by now. And besides, it's a very rare day that I'll let anyone fiddle with my neck when I know how easy it is to screw it up.

So, um, thanks for your help, but all the same...

Incidentally, and it's funny that this came to mind the other day because I haven't seen him for years, but outside of an actual doctor's office there's really only ever been one person I've let anywhere near my neck. He was a work colleague. The whole thing was entirely innocent -- really -- but boy, that man gave good neck massages. Really, really good hands.

Yes, it was too entirely innocent.

And no, it's not the kind of thing that usually happens at my workplace.

And shut up.

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Ok, and with that little... moment?... let me end with a complete detour. It's no secret to my two fans that I've been a Hugh Laurie fan for a very long time. It also shouldn't be surprising that he's been doing a bit of press lately, what with House ending and him about to go on an extended tour for his blues album (which I still haven't bought. Bad fan. Bad. Especially because the music's pretty decent). Put those two things together and you shouldn't be shocked that I was watching Jay Leno the other night when Hugh Laurie was on. Actually, I watched the night before as well, for Joel McHale (I guess I have a thing for tall funny people? Yeah, probably). Which brings me to this question, and I'm asking it honestly of you Leno fans out there:

Why?

Why does Leno have fans?

For two nights in a row I sat through the monologue, waiting in vain for it to be funny. And the interviews? The man simply doesn't listen. Conversations are supposed to be two-way, last time I checked, and I watched two smart, witty guests have half of their good lines missed because Leno was too busy being... I dunno, Leno? And it's not exactly the first time I've seen that happen on his show. I realise that being entertained is partly a matter of personal taste, but if I was going to watch the Tonight Show on a regular basis I'd have to invest in a supply of nerf balls because I'd seriously need something to throw at the television to release the frustration.

I guess it's a good thing that there are other late night shows, then. And never mind the fact that I usually watch them in the morning. That's another topic for another time, and I see that I've already got plenty of words down here.

And besides, I feel much the same way about Oprah (for different reasons) as I do about Leno, and the viewing world in general has already told me I'm wrong on both counts. In the end, what do I know?



I know it's time to stop tying; I suppose I will, then.

New photo!

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?

----------

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.

Aaaahhh!!!

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...