Pointless quick comment:

Yes, not even time to find a pointless photo. I have work that needs doing.

Anyway...

Just wanted to say that if I'm going to continue to have work days that are actually work days as opposed to work a-few-hours-in-the-middle-of-the days, SOMEBODY needs to remind me to buy something to make lunches with. There have been altogether too many sandwiches from the grocery store deli counter in my life for the past little while. They're decent sandwiches, mind, and a lot cheaper than eating fast food, but still. I'm perfectly capable of making a lunch even at Stupid in the Morning, you know.

If I have anything to make lunches with.

Why don't you people tell me these things when I'm shopping? Sheesh. Can't depend on my two fans for anything. At least anything lunch-making-related...

Ok, two reasons why I shouldn't be blathering today:

First one: the weather's crap today, and I was outside on the trails just long enough to have a very itchy, very miserable reaction to it. Stupid weather. Could have happened any other day this week and I wouldn't have been out on the trails at all. This, obviously, has put my mood straight into the toilet.

Second one: I got back in, made myself a cup of very good tea courtesy of the not-Toronto office, started clicking through some of my usual lunchtime reading list, and learned, somewhat belatedly, about Alex Chilton. Geez. Heart attack at fifty-nine? Geez, again. I hear the man was... difficult, would be putting it nicely, but the music was so good. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry. For a lot of people (myself included, for many years) he was one of those I know that song -- who's it by? types. Have a listen to the embedded videos in this post, though, and I'm sure you'll recognise things.

I know what my personal playlist will be for the rest of the afternoon.




I'm going to attempt to bring my inflammation down now. And enjoy the rest of my tea. I hope. It'd be a waste of the tea otherwise.

You're just trying to drive me NUTS, aren't you?

This'll be short. I was out of the office most of the morning, and now I really need to get to some post-lunch actual work.

Today's olf moment comes courtesy of a way too early start to the morning, which was caused by the need to set up the mobile planetarium at a school for an 8:30 am start. The problem? The school doors weren't open until 8 am, and by the time I got fully into set-up I probably had about twenty minutes total to get the thing up and running.

This... does NOT work for the OCD among you, people. I mean, yes. It is possible for me to set up in twenty minutes, as evidenced by the fact that I did it this morning. IT DOES NOT MAKE ME HAPPY. It's cutting it way too close if there are equipment issues (and we've had those in the past), and it gives absolutely no time to get into program mode.

Believe it or not, I do have to warm up my brain to do my job. Well, sometimes.

Anyway, it all made for a jittery start to the morning (and I won't even tell you how many times I checked the map to make sure I knew the way to the school) and right now I'm having a bit of a time getting focussed again.

And I'm eating pita chips. No real reason for the last one, except that I bought them as part of my grocery-store-deli-counter lunch.

And with that whiplash moment... back to work for Yours Obsessively.

Um... Honestly?

I think that I'm going to skip blathering today. Typing still isn't all that much fun (GEE I WONDER WHY??? Stupid woman. And yes, I'm the only one who's allowed to call me that) and I'm not really in the mood besides.

So, pointless photo it is, then.

Catch you later.

Burn, baby, burn...

Today's pointless photo is, of course, completely pointless. Today's post? Will likely make heavy use of the backspace key. And why is that, Dee?

Well, first I have to give you a little bit of information about stoves.

Did you know that your average electric stove's burner element doesn't cool down immediately just because you've turned the burner off? You did? Ok, but did you know that if you forget that the burner is still hot and then accidentally put your non-dominant hand on it while reaching for something with your dominant hand, you can discover how fast your reflexes are?

Mine apparently aren't fast enough.

It's ok, though. Of the two fingertips currently paying the price, only one ended up blistered. The other mostly just looks like I tried to iron my fingerprint. And the bandages are more for padding while I'm typing than anything else. Oh, and to remind myself that if I touch anything with those particular fingers in the next while, I might be checking my reflexes again.

This whole thing does give me an excuse to bring up one of my weirder phobias, though. I know I've mentioned it before, but for as long as I can remember I've been terrified of being burned.

Now, some of my two fans might be wondering just now how fear of being burned can be considered a weird phobia. Fear of injury, fear of pain; things like that actually make sense, survivally-speaking. True. The weird part isn't really the phobia, though. It's the fact that I've had the fear from practically day one and there was no reason to have it. I've never been seriously burned. In fact, my current blister marks the first time I've ever had more than a first-degree burn. So why would a small child who's never been burned be so scared that it might happen?

I have no answer for that.

I've said in the past, very much jokingly, that it's the one thing that might make me believe in reincarnation. Maybe some past life ended in a fire? Maybe I really am a witch?

Must... resist... urge... to... link... to... scene... from... Holy... Grail... yet... again...

Anyway. I'm being told by my right hand that I've typed enough for the moment. Talk, at you later, then.




I'll let you know if I decide to re-test my reflexes using the oven...

50 things that I like

Yeah, I generally spend a lot of time whinging on this blog.

Believe me, I notice.

It's hard not to notice, really.

It's just a fact of pointlessness, I guess.

Honestly, since I didn't give the blog a particular focus it's easy to just say what can I complain about today? and make that the default. In an effort to lighten the mood a bit today, though (in honour of Pi Day, I suppose? And yes, I do know that makes no sense whatsoever), I'm going to attempt to come up with fifty things that don't involve me and bitchery. It's going to be tough -- and completely off the top of my head -- but here goes:

Fifty Things That I Promise That I Can't Find Anything -- Or At Least Much -- To Be Annoyed About

1. Today's pointless photo. Yep, sometimes they're pretty pointless and this one's no exception, but there's something about this particular pointlessness that I like. For whatever reason.
2. Cheese.
3. Art supplies.
4. Craig Ferguson. In a purely he's-entertaining-as-hell fashion, of course.
5. Good chocolate. Ok, almost any chocolate.
   
6. The Muppet channel on YouTube.
7. Cats.
8. Spiders.
9. Pop rocks.
10. Jane Austen.
11. Squirrels.
12. Pizza.
13. Roper slip-ons.
14. British sketch comedy.
15. Sleep. Too bad it's such a scarce commodity.
16. Patterns. They speak to my inner OLF.
17. Singing.
18. Flowers. I was going to be more specific and list individual flowers, but that seemed like it would be cheating on my fifty.
19. Project Runway. Yeah, yeah, I know.
20. Cooking competition shows. See above for resigned comment.
21. Louis Armstrong.
22. Trivia.
23. Clementines. The tangerines, I mean.
24. The Blues.
25. Melons.
26. Fred Astaire.
27. The Discovery Channel.
28. DVD extras.
29. Sudoku.
30. Chickadees.
31. Baby Coots. They definitely qualify as so ugly they're cute.
32. Terra chips.
33. 60s rock. Well, classic rock in general. Stuff I can sing along with in the car.
34. Watching talented people in their element.
35. Kids. Yes, I do like kids. Doesn't mean I want any of my own, but it also doesn't mean I can't like other peoples' kids.
36. Mozart.
37. Chamber music.
38. Absurdity.
39. Learning.
40. Blue Jays.
41. Digital photography. There's something appealing about how disposable it is.
42. QI. Thank Whomever for the internet, because I'd never get to see it otherwise. Oh, and BBC? I'd really love to be able to see it in a non-pirated way hint hint hint.
43. Folk festivals. Haven't been in too many years, but they're sure a lot of fun.
44. Monet. Which I initially mistyped as Money. Which I suppose I like too...
45. Historic fashion.
46. Social history.
47. Ouzo.
48. Internet radio.
49. Having an art gallery at work. Even when the displays are iffy, it's still something to talk about.
    
50. Chicken.

Well, that'll be my fifty for this time. Fairly random, I think you'll agree. I know I've done this at least once before, so if you're really obsessive I suppose you could use the search bar at the top of the page to see how many repeats there are in the list. Unless, of course, it was on the other blog before I deleted the old posts. Then you're mostly out of luck.

I'm sure you're heartbroken...

Aaand we're back

I'm not sure with what, though. To be honest, I'm kind of grumpy and could have used a bit more sleep. That's the sort of thing that sends blog posts horribly, horribly wrong, so I'm not sure if I should bother to blather. Ah well, maybe I'll just type for a while and see what happens.

Today's pointless photo, by the way, should be looked at as a companion to this one from a couple of weeks ago. It's not especially interesting, but at least it proves that things are thawing.

Well, most things are thawing.

The greater part of my father's yard? Not so much.

I'll see if I'm in the mood to take pictures of it later, but in case I'm not I'll juts tell you that my father's yard has this weird way of holding on to winter for as long as possible. Everywhere else in Alberta could be completely snowless, but my father's place (and, to be fair, his neighbour's) will still be a metre deep in the stuff. It's a testament to how good an insulator snow really is, I guess. Provide a yard with a little bit of shade and you too can have snowball fights well into May.

Erm... hopefully not that long, but you see where I'm going. Just picture this strange little snow island in the middle of spring, and that's my father's yard.

Of course, the whole thing comes crashing down, snowloverly-speaking, the minute someone disturbs the integrity of the pack. Eventually the father figure will get impatient to get on with the gardening, and he'll start moving the snow around. Move the snow around, disturb the air pockets, and all of a sudden this miracle of ice at 14C becomes ACTUAL WATER.

I'd like to tell a bit of a fib here and say that the magic of it all used to mystify my as a kid, but the fact is that my father was a math/science teacher. Things like that never stayed a mystery for long. All it took was a question, and I got an explanation.

It might have been more poetic to stare in wonderment and amazement, I suppose, but I kind of like knowing how things really work better.

Probably why I'm in the business I'm in, come to it.







Hey, this pretty much turned into a post after all. Yay me. Proof once again that I am the QUEEN!!! of pointless blather.

See you tomorrow. Or whenever.