Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Friday, October 03, 2014
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
A Reading that will Never go Viral
So here's me reading as Tammy Owen from House of Goats. I want to go into Muppet Show mode and continue that with "the continuing stooory of a quack who's gone to the dogs." (From Veterinary Hospital: here's an example.) Or in my case a suburban mom who's gone to the goats.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24pmoRe-H2U
I tried to embed this video, but apparently the software can't find me. Ugh. I'll try to add it later.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24pmoRe-H2U
I tried to embed this video, but apparently the software can't find me. Ugh. I'll try to add it later.
Monday, January 13, 2014
An Old Perspective on Phones
Apparently I've gotten to that stage in my life when "I remember when ..." becomes seriously amusing. It's easier to notice and happens sooner now in our lifetimes because we're living longer and technology changes the world so rapidly.
So this morning, I heard an angry buzzing noise, followed by The Good, The Bad and The Ugly theme. My DH was still in bed, so his phone was not actually on his body.
That's another sign of our generation–we don't take our phones to bed with us, no matter how sexy the voice on the phone sounds or how many toys there might be on there to distract us. Now I'm editing myself as far as what we prefer to distract us. Moving on!
Back in my day, the phone rang on the other side of the house. We had a fancy house. We had one upstairs, in the kitchen, and one downstairs, in the family room. Sometimes it took a while to get to the phone.
To answer my DH's phone, I had to slide my finger over the screen, and I did an old lady thing. I said, "Rory's phone, Kami speaking." During my youth, no one had a personal phone. You had to learn to answer the phone, and it was a grave responsibility, like being a butler. "Hi, this is the Zeman residence, Kami speaking!" Because, get this, we had no caller ID. Unless we had a pre-arranged phone call coming in (that we had to sit by the phone and wait for) we had no idea who might be on the phone. It might be someone from my dad's work. Some of us were a little psychic and knew why the phone was ringing (or we were lucky guessers.) But my DH's phone told me exactly who was calling, so while I was doing the finger slidey thing, I was already on my way to get to him.
That's another thing. Phone cords! They got twisted and tangled and the older and more worn-out they got, the more often they did that. Longer cords were great because sometimes you could do stuff (or hide in another room with the door closed) but that only made tangling more likely and far worse when it happened. Of course this generation has been deprived of one of life's great joys–dangling the phone at the end of the cord and watching it unwind. (It's faster to hold the phone and let the cord unwind, but much less fun.) Another lost joy–playing with the coils, which could be interlocked, partially uncoiled and recoiled again, etc.
So I'm on my way to my DH with this cordless marvel, and I hand it to him with, "it's G." During the pass somehow, something that would have never, ever happened with the phone I grew up with happened. The phone took a picture somehow. Click! Wrong part of the screen touched or something. I can't wait to see the results. It should be the best pic ever, or at least best pic of the week. For a moment my DH wasn't sure if G. was still on the line. He couldn't hear anything. But eventually he got into the right phone mode and it was all good.
I was raised in the modern era, don't get me wrong. In the unlikely event of a dropped call (almost never happened) we did have one modern convenience during my teen years, and it was actually easier to access than on my DH's phone. A redial button.
But it only worked if we made the call from our side. And it was only the latest number.
Still, it came in handy. The digital phones (the early ones of which had to transmit the rotary phone noises in order to communicate with the switchboard) were a huge advance and my sister and I love playing with them. I did miss playing with the rotary phone dial, though. There was something magical about putting my finger in that little hole and turning the dial around the center pin. (Quiet, all y'all with dirty minds out there!) Also, not only were international calls expensive, we had to talk to a human being to make them, who then talked to a human being in another country to make the switch. There was excitement, drama, and suspense when we made a long-distance call!
And you were never in danger of your phone taking a picture of you, sending you on a wild-goose chase if you're trying to find your way through an unfamiliar town, compromising your identity or pocket calling someone who then listens to your garbled conversation at a cafe for gawd-knows-how-long until they get bored of yelling to get your attention or laughing at you.
Though toddlers were still capable of randomly calling and talking to perfect strangers for quite a while before you caught them at it.
I'm enjoying the hell out of this sense of perspective. It's a never-ending source of hilarity. The fact that half the population doesn't get it doesn't diminish it's charm.
So this morning, I heard an angry buzzing noise, followed by The Good, The Bad and The Ugly theme. My DH was still in bed, so his phone was not actually on his body.
That's another sign of our generation–we don't take our phones to bed with us, no matter how sexy the voice on the phone sounds or how many toys there might be on there to distract us. Now I'm editing myself as far as what we prefer to distract us. Moving on!
Back in my day, the phone rang on the other side of the house. We had a fancy house. We had one upstairs, in the kitchen, and one downstairs, in the family room. Sometimes it took a while to get to the phone.
To answer my DH's phone, I had to slide my finger over the screen, and I did an old lady thing. I said, "Rory's phone, Kami speaking." During my youth, no one had a personal phone. You had to learn to answer the phone, and it was a grave responsibility, like being a butler. "Hi, this is the Zeman residence, Kami speaking!" Because, get this, we had no caller ID. Unless we had a pre-arranged phone call coming in (that we had to sit by the phone and wait for) we had no idea who might be on the phone. It might be someone from my dad's work. Some of us were a little psychic and knew why the phone was ringing (or we were lucky guessers.) But my DH's phone told me exactly who was calling, so while I was doing the finger slidey thing, I was already on my way to get to him.
That's another thing. Phone cords! They got twisted and tangled and the older and more worn-out they got, the more often they did that. Longer cords were great because sometimes you could do stuff (or hide in another room with the door closed) but that only made tangling more likely and far worse when it happened. Of course this generation has been deprived of one of life's great joys–dangling the phone at the end of the cord and watching it unwind. (It's faster to hold the phone and let the cord unwind, but much less fun.) Another lost joy–playing with the coils, which could be interlocked, partially uncoiled and recoiled again, etc.
So I'm on my way to my DH with this cordless marvel, and I hand it to him with, "it's G." During the pass somehow, something that would have never, ever happened with the phone I grew up with happened. The phone took a picture somehow. Click! Wrong part of the screen touched or something. I can't wait to see the results. It should be the best pic ever, or at least best pic of the week. For a moment my DH wasn't sure if G. was still on the line. He couldn't hear anything. But eventually he got into the right phone mode and it was all good.
I was raised in the modern era, don't get me wrong. In the unlikely event of a dropped call (almost never happened) we did have one modern convenience during my teen years, and it was actually easier to access than on my DH's phone. A redial button.
But it only worked if we made the call from our side. And it was only the latest number.
Still, it came in handy. The digital phones (the early ones of which had to transmit the rotary phone noises in order to communicate with the switchboard) were a huge advance and my sister and I love playing with them. I did miss playing with the rotary phone dial, though. There was something magical about putting my finger in that little hole and turning the dial around the center pin. (Quiet, all y'all with dirty minds out there!) Also, not only were international calls expensive, we had to talk to a human being to make them, who then talked to a human being in another country to make the switch. There was excitement, drama, and suspense when we made a long-distance call!
And you were never in danger of your phone taking a picture of you, sending you on a wild-goose chase if you're trying to find your way through an unfamiliar town, compromising your identity or pocket calling someone who then listens to your garbled conversation at a cafe for gawd-knows-how-long until they get bored of yelling to get your attention or laughing at you.
Though toddlers were still capable of randomly calling and talking to perfect strangers for quite a while before you caught them at it.
I'm enjoying the hell out of this sense of perspective. It's a never-ending source of hilarity. The fact that half the population doesn't get it doesn't diminish it's charm.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Bonny blue een
The girl is putting together a paper and a diorama for her poetry class. She and I had a lot of fun making a rice-stuffed doll. She did the rest entirely herself (although as a surprise, I'm going to make a shield for her fallen knight tonight.) We may have reached new lows, or highs, depending, of family weirdness as we both really like the doll. Even though it has no legs. And looks wounded. And is creepy.
She has ravens, a nest, and everything. We used corn silk for the hair, and painted two buttons with blue nail polish (doesn't everyone have blue nail polish just laying around the house?) for the eyes.
Her subject:
Twa Corbies! (Anonymous, from bartleby.com)
| AS I was walking all alane | |
| I heard twa corbies making a mane: | |
| The tane unto the tither did say, | |
| 'Whar sall we gang and dine the day?' | |
| '—In behint yon auld fail dyke | 5 |
| I wot there lies a new-slain knight; | |
| And naebody kens that he lies there | |
| But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. | |
| 'His hound is to the hunting gane, | |
| His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, | 10 |
| His lady 's ta'en anither mate, | |
| So we may mak our dinner sweet. | |
| 'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, | |
| And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en: | |
| Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair | 15 |
| We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. | |
| 'Mony a one for him maks mane, | |
| But nane sall ken whar he is gane: | |
| O'er his white banes, when they are bare, | |
| The wind sall blaw for evermair.' |
Whether the doll is weirdly, creepy-cute, or just plain wrong, that was about the best quality time the girl and I have had to spend together in quite awhile.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
The Voices, They Are Stupid
I've been working out again. As always, I've rediscovered that it's absolutely true that you end up with more energy, not less, when you work out on a regular basis.
And the voices in my head--man, they know just what to say. What's with that? Everything from a whining "I don't wanna!" to "I really don't have time to work out" to "It's my day off, I don't want to spend my day off at the gym," and everything in-between. A stupid one yesterday: "It's almost lunchtime, so I'll be hungry by the time I get there, and if I go work out now then I'll have a really late lunch if I have one at all, and if I eat before I'll be too full to work out." Really? As if I'm afraid of being hungry for an hour or two. Anyone who's seen me knows that I'm in no danger of starvation any time soon.
The voices in my head have no logic. That's probably a good thing, otherwise I might cave in to them (more often).
The voices in my head are not who I am, nor are the voices in anyone's head who any of us really are. They are, generally speaking (at least in my case) a vocal minority expressing my fears that goad me into laziness, and are mainly concerned with maintaining my comfort level. That includes my success or lack thereof. To these voices, success is scary. It's not just fear of failure, which these voices also have. What if I succeed? Then (OMG) people might see me, might notice, and that puts me in danger. What kind of danger, the voices can't really specify other than a vague unease and the notion that people will mock me if they, for example, read my books. Regardless of what might or might not happen, it's change and we're safe right now without the change. We're safe and nothing bad is happening and if there's change then there's all this bad stuff that might happen.
What bad stuff, they can't always delineate. Even if they did, it probably wouldn't make much sense. (See previous mention of the lunch logic.)
The main leverage that the voices have is that I've been embarrassed and I've failed and I've struggled, and just thinking about some of those moments makes my gut knot up tight. So their vague threats do have teeth. Take, for example, my garden. I've spent a lot of money and time and effort on my veggie garden. Last year, I had almost nothing to show for it. The deer ate my tomato plants and most of the broccoli. They even ate the zucchini plants. The thought of all that loss makes me feel horrible. I wasted money, and I ended up looking stupid. The time spent I don't mind so much--I love gardening, and it keeps me in shape. Still ... And I have this project where I'm going to fence the whole darned thing in to keep the deer out. In fact, I'm going to work on it today. So why am I here, typing (and playing Bejeweled) when I should dash out there right now and get to work?
Because of the voices. And when I press them past the "I don't wanna, it's my day off and it's cold and dreary outside" (although the sun is peeking out right now, yay!!) the best that they can come up with is "what if you don't have enough materials to finish and we can't afford to buy new and if you buy stuff we'll be short and lose the house or worse, what if you finish and the deer still get in and then we'll have lost the house and we'll be starving for nothing or worst of all, what if the deer stay out and the garden still fails? Then you'll be a gardening total failure because you can't even blame the deer and we'll have no food and no house and we'll all die and it's all your fault and your husband and kids won't blame you because they're so nice but you'll see their large, tear-filled eyes and know you are to blame for their total destruction."
This is, seriously, the best the voices can do.
Why do I listen to them? Why do any of us listen to the voices in our heads?
Right now I can't think of a damned reason why. I'm going to go out and work on my garden. Type atch'y'all next time!
And the voices in my head--man, they know just what to say. What's with that? Everything from a whining "I don't wanna!" to "I really don't have time to work out" to "It's my day off, I don't want to spend my day off at the gym," and everything in-between. A stupid one yesterday: "It's almost lunchtime, so I'll be hungry by the time I get there, and if I go work out now then I'll have a really late lunch if I have one at all, and if I eat before I'll be too full to work out." Really? As if I'm afraid of being hungry for an hour or two. Anyone who's seen me knows that I'm in no danger of starvation any time soon.
The voices in my head have no logic. That's probably a good thing, otherwise I might cave in to them (more often).
The voices in my head are not who I am, nor are the voices in anyone's head who any of us really are. They are, generally speaking (at least in my case) a vocal minority expressing my fears that goad me into laziness, and are mainly concerned with maintaining my comfort level. That includes my success or lack thereof. To these voices, success is scary. It's not just fear of failure, which these voices also have. What if I succeed? Then (OMG) people might see me, might notice, and that puts me in danger. What kind of danger, the voices can't really specify other than a vague unease and the notion that people will mock me if they, for example, read my books. Regardless of what might or might not happen, it's change and we're safe right now without the change. We're safe and nothing bad is happening and if there's change then there's all this bad stuff that might happen.
What bad stuff, they can't always delineate. Even if they did, it probably wouldn't make much sense. (See previous mention of the lunch logic.)
The main leverage that the voices have is that I've been embarrassed and I've failed and I've struggled, and just thinking about some of those moments makes my gut knot up tight. So their vague threats do have teeth. Take, for example, my garden. I've spent a lot of money and time and effort on my veggie garden. Last year, I had almost nothing to show for it. The deer ate my tomato plants and most of the broccoli. They even ate the zucchini plants. The thought of all that loss makes me feel horrible. I wasted money, and I ended up looking stupid. The time spent I don't mind so much--I love gardening, and it keeps me in shape. Still ... And I have this project where I'm going to fence the whole darned thing in to keep the deer out. In fact, I'm going to work on it today. So why am I here, typing (and playing Bejeweled) when I should dash out there right now and get to work?
Because of the voices. And when I press them past the "I don't wanna, it's my day off and it's cold and dreary outside" (although the sun is peeking out right now, yay!!) the best that they can come up with is "what if you don't have enough materials to finish and we can't afford to buy new and if you buy stuff we'll be short and lose the house or worse, what if you finish and the deer still get in and then we'll have lost the house and we'll be starving for nothing or worst of all, what if the deer stay out and the garden still fails? Then you'll be a gardening total failure because you can't even blame the deer and we'll have no food and no house and we'll all die and it's all your fault and your husband and kids won't blame you because they're so nice but you'll see their large, tear-filled eyes and know you are to blame for their total destruction."
This is, seriously, the best the voices can do.
Why do I listen to them? Why do any of us listen to the voices in our heads?
Right now I can't think of a damned reason why. I'm going to go out and work on my garden. Type atch'y'all next time!
Sunday, March 03, 2013
Another lovely day in the making
The sun is uncertain and there's a cold wind, but I still managed to get a few minutes of reading in the sun beside the pool. I even took my sweater off and pulled my pant legs up to my knees. Soon, the thoughtful and generous Susan will be picking me up at the hotel. We may go to a light lunch someplace in Orlando. It's a drive (we took it the day before yesterday in a rented car) so it's very nice of her on many levels to come on over and see me.
People are wearing parkas, but it's not that cold for a northerner. Still, I'm going to bundle up if I decide to go hot tubbing later on. The official high temp predicted for today is 55, more than twenty below the average for this time of year. Not exactly brr, but it's a lot less fun to hot tub and then be nothing but layers on layers of goosepimples by the time I make it to the door leaving the pool area.
I'm not disappointed by the weather (much--it would have been sooooo fun to spend time at the water park right across the street.) It's been fun and relaxing and the flowers, wow, the flowers. So many varieties in bloom right now, and it's winter. I wonder how it looks in spring and summer. And the orange juice, and the margaritas .... Ripe citrus, really ripe, hand-squeezed, is amazing.
I love the bright orange of ripening oranges on the trees when we drive past the orange groves. I saw a nursery selling potted citrus trees--they were heavy with fruit and I so wanted to take one home, but it's impractical on a gizillion different levels. My orange trees really suffer, especially over the winter.
I truly love the Pacific Northwest. Having said that, there are a lot of really fascinating, wonderful and beautiful places in the world and I'm glad I get to visit them. Given a chance, I'd love to see Orlando again. Maybe next time, the sun will be out a bit more.
People are wearing parkas, but it's not that cold for a northerner. Still, I'm going to bundle up if I decide to go hot tubbing later on. The official high temp predicted for today is 55, more than twenty below the average for this time of year. Not exactly brr, but it's a lot less fun to hot tub and then be nothing but layers on layers of goosepimples by the time I make it to the door leaving the pool area.
I'm not disappointed by the weather (much--it would have been sooooo fun to spend time at the water park right across the street.) It's been fun and relaxing and the flowers, wow, the flowers. So many varieties in bloom right now, and it's winter. I wonder how it looks in spring and summer. And the orange juice, and the margaritas .... Ripe citrus, really ripe, hand-squeezed, is amazing.
I love the bright orange of ripening oranges on the trees when we drive past the orange groves. I saw a nursery selling potted citrus trees--they were heavy with fruit and I so wanted to take one home, but it's impractical on a gizillion different levels. My orange trees really suffer, especially over the winter.
I truly love the Pacific Northwest. Having said that, there are a lot of really fascinating, wonderful and beautiful places in the world and I'm glad I get to visit them. Given a chance, I'd love to see Orlando again. Maybe next time, the sun will be out a bit more.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
We're Entering the 21st Century!
You're never going to believe this ....
We're going to get set up with high speed internet at the house.
They better buy winter jackets down below, is all I'm saying.
No, the wonderful optical cable they laid right past our front door is not live. And although we are digital call capable (whatever that means) they can't (won't?) pipe internet through there. In the end, we went with an affordable thingy through our phone company. At least, it's as or more affordable than satellite we've looked into in the past. And yes, satellite is not nearly as awesome or fast as optical cable, but it's going to be a lot faster than anything we have at home at the moment.
I'm sure I'll still hop on down to the library to use the Wifi there. I love the library, and the connection will be faster than it is at home. The big difference will be that I'll be able to post blog entries from home (yay! -- we still haven't figured out what the problem is with the sign-in from home, boo) which means I'll be posting more often. And when I finish a project at home, I won't have to wait until the library is open, or cave and go to my favorite Wifi-enabled pub and eat eat eat for four hours while I get my stuff done.
Once we're live I'll get a wifi router and ... I can hardly contain my excitement ... I won't have to relocate when I'm ready to publish a book or send out an email with a big attachment (or make the attachment so tiny it's useless.) This will modestly increase my productivity, and lower gas and eating-out expenditures. Hard to say whether we'll come out ahead yet, but we'll see.
We're going to get set up with high speed internet at the house.
They better buy winter jackets down below, is all I'm saying.
No, the wonderful optical cable they laid right past our front door is not live. And although we are digital call capable (whatever that means) they can't (won't?) pipe internet through there. In the end, we went with an affordable thingy through our phone company. At least, it's as or more affordable than satellite we've looked into in the past. And yes, satellite is not nearly as awesome or fast as optical cable, but it's going to be a lot faster than anything we have at home at the moment.
I'm sure I'll still hop on down to the library to use the Wifi there. I love the library, and the connection will be faster than it is at home. The big difference will be that I'll be able to post blog entries from home (yay! -- we still haven't figured out what the problem is with the sign-in from home, boo) which means I'll be posting more often. And when I finish a project at home, I won't have to wait until the library is open, or cave and go to my favorite Wifi-enabled pub and eat eat eat for four hours while I get my stuff done.
Once we're live I'll get a wifi router and ... I can hardly contain my excitement ... I won't have to relocate when I'm ready to publish a book or send out an email with a big attachment (or make the attachment so tiny it's useless.) This will modestly increase my productivity, and lower gas and eating-out expenditures. Hard to say whether we'll come out ahead yet, but we'll see.
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Adventure in a Box
Yesterday we got something in the mail. Everyone should get something like this at least once in their lives. Not necessarily what we got, but something along these lines in this fashion. Because getting a big wooden crate from overseas is really awesome.
Cue the Indiana Jones theme music (and ignore the existence of the last movie while you do it, please.)
It arrived while I was at work. I didn't get a phone call from my daughter, (though my DH did--what's with that?!) so I was totally surprised.
Being surprised is super-fun, so actually I didn't mind not getting the call. And I was working, supposedly. I just have to publicly hassle my family once in a while.
Anyway, I got my camera and started snapping pictures. The girl had a hammer ready. I think she was a little excited too. :-)
The thing was built like Fort Knox. Now that I've read 1776 by McCullough, the name Knox has a whole new depth to it. It's a rockin' name, and a great book. Highly recommended. I regret not getting the illustrated edition. BTW, I have a weird association with McCullough the author and Support Your Local Sheriff, where the bad guy Joe Danby asks what the hero's name is and he replies with Jason McCullough in the middle of a cute, funny section of dialogue. Also also highly, highly recommended movie. But I digress.
Getting the box opened was no easy feat. I had to use my very modest carpentry skills to do it.
Now you can cue the creepy Indiana Jones music where they're about to open the Ark of the Covenant.
And inside the box ... was another box!
I had a flashback to a scene in The Emperor's New Groove. Also highly recommended. I don't think as many people saw The Emperor's New Groove as some of the other Disney movies, which is a shame. It's one of the better ones. I've rewatched it many times, of my own free will, with no small children to prompt me to do so.
Inside the box was an egg-like object, something wrapped in bubble wrap that was then wrapped in brown mail packaging tape so thoroughly that you couldn't actually see the bubble wrap.
We got a knife and began extracting the contents with surgical care. My surgical nurse provided tension as I cut and peeled the bubble wrap apart.
This was what was inside.
I gasped.
.... it's so beautiful ....
But our faces didn't melt off. We were safe. You can go back to the adventure theme now, if you like.
We put it up on a shelf in the entryway. Then I started to have waking nightmares about cats hopping up there, as they often do, and knocking it down. I could actually hear the crash of it hitting the floor in my mind in the middle of the night, followed by the skidding and scrabbling of kitty feet on laminate flooring so that I couldn't even identify the perpetrator that I would have to hunt down and kill.
Not literally kill. Or even hit, or curse at, actually. Mostly I would just hug a pillow and rock and sob and tear my hair and throw ashes on my head. Part of that is very Greek, appropriate in this case.
So we moved some books out of our built-in bookshelves and there it sits in a greek wine amphora-sized cubby. The cats may still knock it down, but they would really, really have to work at it this time. It's also nicely at eye level.
It's a replica, of course. If it was the real thing, I would have to put it in a box. Preferably a glass box, but back in the wooden box in the meantime, and of course I would never get around to getting the glass box, and no one would ever see it. Which would be a shame. But it's a replica, so it's all okay.
I won't have anything nearly so nifty to post about in a while, so enjoy the moment. I'll get back to our regular boring stuff tomorrow.
Cue the Indiana Jones theme music (and ignore the existence of the last movie while you do it, please.)
It arrived while I was at work. I didn't get a phone call from my daughter, (though my DH did--what's with that?!) so I was totally surprised.
Being surprised is super-fun, so actually I didn't mind not getting the call. And I was working, supposedly. I just have to publicly hassle my family once in a while.
Anyway, I got my camera and started snapping pictures. The girl had a hammer ready. I think she was a little excited too. :-)
The thing was built like Fort Knox. Now that I've read 1776 by McCullough, the name Knox has a whole new depth to it. It's a rockin' name, and a great book. Highly recommended. I regret not getting the illustrated edition. BTW, I have a weird association with McCullough the author and Support Your Local Sheriff, where the bad guy Joe Danby asks what the hero's name is and he replies with Jason McCullough in the middle of a cute, funny section of dialogue. Also also highly, highly recommended movie. But I digress.
Getting the box opened was no easy feat. I had to use my very modest carpentry skills to do it.
Now you can cue the creepy Indiana Jones music where they're about to open the Ark of the Covenant.
And inside the box ... was another box!I had a flashback to a scene in The Emperor's New Groove. Also highly recommended. I don't think as many people saw The Emperor's New Groove as some of the other Disney movies, which is a shame. It's one of the better ones. I've rewatched it many times, of my own free will, with no small children to prompt me to do so.
Inside the box was an egg-like object, something wrapped in bubble wrap that was then wrapped in brown mail packaging tape so thoroughly that you couldn't actually see the bubble wrap.
We got a knife and began extracting the contents with surgical care. My surgical nurse provided tension as I cut and peeled the bubble wrap apart.
This was what was inside.
I gasped..... it's so beautiful ....
But our faces didn't melt off. We were safe. You can go back to the adventure theme now, if you like.
We put it up on a shelf in the entryway. Then I started to have waking nightmares about cats hopping up there, as they often do, and knocking it down. I could actually hear the crash of it hitting the floor in my mind in the middle of the night, followed by the skidding and scrabbling of kitty feet on laminate flooring so that I couldn't even identify the perpetrator that I would have to hunt down and kill.
Not literally kill. Or even hit, or curse at, actually. Mostly I would just hug a pillow and rock and sob and tear my hair and throw ashes on my head. Part of that is very Greek, appropriate in this case.
So we moved some books out of our built-in bookshelves and there it sits in a greek wine amphora-sized cubby. The cats may still knock it down, but they would really, really have to work at it this time. It's also nicely at eye level.
It's a replica, of course. If it was the real thing, I would have to put it in a box. Preferably a glass box, but back in the wooden box in the meantime, and of course I would never get around to getting the glass box, and no one would ever see it. Which would be a shame. But it's a replica, so it's all okay.
I won't have anything nearly so nifty to post about in a while, so enjoy the moment. I'll get back to our regular boring stuff tomorrow.
Monday, August 06, 2012
Learning and Remembering
I'm still having issues with blogger. I'm trying to fix them. It's a frustrating process. Hopefully, I'm more or less back, at least for now.
It's nice to be able to post from home again.
Still no Carey. Our neighbors are trying to live trap a cat that's been hanging around their barn near their tractor. I'm trying not to get my hopes up. They think it's a long-haired gray kitty, but long-haired and gray mean different things to different people. I consider the Poop mostly white, but many would consider her gray, especially people who think in terms of horse colors. Just Google gray horse and you'll see what I mean, or check out the wikipedia article. Our neighbors have a gray horse, so ....
In the meantime we'll keep visiting the shelter.
The kids and I went to the fair yesterday. Long, busy, hot day, but we had fun. I did book research while I was there, because I can't seem to help myself. During the pirate parrot show, I make notes about how the parrots behave and look and sound. In the horse arena, I watch the open halter competition and notice how every horse and rider have different personalities, and how some work together better than others. I peruse the stables and stand near a horse (with its owner's permission) to reacquaint myself with that sense of living mass when you're near a large animal.
It's been a long time since I've gone riding, or played with a parrot, etc. Our brains think we remember things accurately, but what we actually remember are broad brushstrokes painted over a main single experience supported by other less important experiences. It's very diluted until you put yourself into a situation where your mind transports you back far more accurately and combines that experience with current information. I'm happy I had the chance to do that. And the Knights of the Realm show was a blast. They changed the story, thank goodness, from the one last year where the unchivalrous knight won. The boy took a piece of a shattered lance home with him. He found the way they cut the lances to make them safe (although they had no eye protection--ack!) fascinating. It's very convincing and spectacular at a distance. I wonder how many lances (and volunteers!) they went through before they got the cuts just right. Yikes. I was also extremely impressed by the rings competition. I think most people watching it had no idea how difficult it would be to ride at a perky gallop toward a line of rings and put a lance through it. The 'large' rings were maybe five inches across, the small probably less than four inches in diameter. They've had enough practice to make it look easy, though they missed often, and I'm sure it wasn't on purpose.
I'm hoping to make it to the neighboring county's fair. It's smaller, and I'll see more of our neighbors there. At the moment I'm done in, mostly from the heat but also because of my work schedule. It's back to split days off, at least for a little bit. With my one day off spent at the fair, the week ahead looks long and weary. At least we have air conditioning at work. When I'm cool most of the day, it makes it easier to sleep at night, even when it's so hot and muggy that the kitties are still molten piles of fur at midnight with no sign of relief before morning.
Stay cool and check out your local fair. You might be surprised, especially if you haven't been in a while, just how much fun they are. And if you're a writer, don't forget to take notes.
It's nice to be able to post from home again.
Still no Carey. Our neighbors are trying to live trap a cat that's been hanging around their barn near their tractor. I'm trying not to get my hopes up. They think it's a long-haired gray kitty, but long-haired and gray mean different things to different people. I consider the Poop mostly white, but many would consider her gray, especially people who think in terms of horse colors. Just Google gray horse and you'll see what I mean, or check out the wikipedia article. Our neighbors have a gray horse, so ....
In the meantime we'll keep visiting the shelter.
The kids and I went to the fair yesterday. Long, busy, hot day, but we had fun. I did book research while I was there, because I can't seem to help myself. During the pirate parrot show, I make notes about how the parrots behave and look and sound. In the horse arena, I watch the open halter competition and notice how every horse and rider have different personalities, and how some work together better than others. I peruse the stables and stand near a horse (with its owner's permission) to reacquaint myself with that sense of living mass when you're near a large animal.
It's been a long time since I've gone riding, or played with a parrot, etc. Our brains think we remember things accurately, but what we actually remember are broad brushstrokes painted over a main single experience supported by other less important experiences. It's very diluted until you put yourself into a situation where your mind transports you back far more accurately and combines that experience with current information. I'm happy I had the chance to do that. And the Knights of the Realm show was a blast. They changed the story, thank goodness, from the one last year where the unchivalrous knight won. The boy took a piece of a shattered lance home with him. He found the way they cut the lances to make them safe (although they had no eye protection--ack!) fascinating. It's very convincing and spectacular at a distance. I wonder how many lances (and volunteers!) they went through before they got the cuts just right. Yikes. I was also extremely impressed by the rings competition. I think most people watching it had no idea how difficult it would be to ride at a perky gallop toward a line of rings and put a lance through it. The 'large' rings were maybe five inches across, the small probably less than four inches in diameter. They've had enough practice to make it look easy, though they missed often, and I'm sure it wasn't on purpose.
I'm hoping to make it to the neighboring county's fair. It's smaller, and I'll see more of our neighbors there. At the moment I'm done in, mostly from the heat but also because of my work schedule. It's back to split days off, at least for a little bit. With my one day off spent at the fair, the week ahead looks long and weary. At least we have air conditioning at work. When I'm cool most of the day, it makes it easier to sleep at night, even when it's so hot and muggy that the kitties are still molten piles of fur at midnight with no sign of relief before morning.
Stay cool and check out your local fair. You might be surprised, especially if you haven't been in a while, just how much fun they are. And if you're a writer, don't forget to take notes.
Friday, August 03, 2012
Sometimes, Fun Things are a Chore
Another animal day.
First off, woke up and looked for Carey on the deck, like I do every morning. No Carey. It's really hard to keep my hopes up when I hear the coyotes cry all night.
Then, deer, not once but twice. They savaged my super-expensive ($2.45 for only 25 seeds!) broccoli, but I didn't see that. What I did see was a doe with her spotted fawn helping themselves to our apples. Which was fine, and actually really cute. We have more apples than we know what to do with this year. There's really only so much applesauce, apple pie, apple tart, apple juice, baked, fresh, and caramel and/or candied apples a person can eat, you know. They did a nice job of picking the fallen ones first, before moving on to the ones hanging from the tree branches. How nice. Every time a car or truck went by, the doe would look annoyed and the fawn bounced around or dashed like mad for cover. They left, and then returned for more after about an hour.
Last but not least, the suicidal baby robin. I tried to save it. Really I did. The girl and I chased it around until I caught it and put it up in our big trees. It should have been able to hop and half-ass fly from branch to branch all the way back up to the nest.
But, of course, when I went back out to change the sprinkler, there it was. The Poop was stalking it. She ran for it at the same time I did. She dropped it because I yelled at her at the same time that one of the parent robins dive-bombed her. The Poop jetted for the edge of the tree's dripline while I dutifully put the stupid, spotted thing with not enough flight feathers or tail to fly back into the tree. All the cats were then banished to the house.
If it's still alive when we get home, and on the ground again, we might have a guest for a week or two while it finishes fledging out.
Wildlife. Ugh. Didn't I used to marvel at it when I was a child? Actually, I still do, and it's neat that we get to experience this up close most of the time. Sometimes, though, it makes me a little crazy.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Review: Tardis Room and DiPrima Dolci
Ate at a couple of spiffy places recently: The Fish and Chip Shop on N. Killingsworth in Portland, Oregon, known as the Tardis Room, and an italian deli just down the road. Awesome for lunch, a pleasant walk, and dessert. Parking is on the street and limited near the Fish and Chips, so be forewarned if you want to meet with a group. The decor in the Tardis Room was lots of fun, and I loved the fresh, hot fish and chips there. Bear in mind that the chips (fries) and the batter on the fish has next to no salt--you're expected to be a grownup and salt your own. I also used lots of vinegar on mine, and the lemons that came with the fish were nice and fresh. I had the cod, and it was very, very good, fresh fish.
At DiPrima Dolci we sat out on a back patio in the sunshine amid a very nice, romantic garden all overgrown and bountiful. I bet it looks even better later in the year. If you love gardening and would like to combine it with fresh cannoli and not-too-sweet but rich and tasty cheesecake, this is the place for you. I'd also like to thank them profusely for having high quality tea and not pouring boiling hot water over it so that it ended up overcooked. It was perfect--rare in this day of Stash or Taos tea with hot water meant for espresso searing it so that it tastes muddy and sour. I recommend going on a day when it would be nice to sit outside, and prepare to relax completely.
Oh, and I have to say that I appreciated the portions at both places. At DiPrima Dolci I ordered a small cannoli and RL ordered the marbled cheesecake. I didn't feel guilty snarfing as much as I did--the whole cannoli and half (or more) of the cheesecake. Much as I adore Rose's giant cake slices, I always mean to take half of them home and end up eating them all in one sitting, which does nothing good for my manly waistline. At the Tardis Room, the two pieces of cod and the sides were plenty for a heavy lunch, at least for me. There's a large (probably three pieces) available for folks with bigger appetites than I want to have. Yes, I would have gladly eaten a third piece of fish, but I'm glad I didn't.
If you're local, plan to check it out and worried about the neighborhood, don't be. It might be a different story on a hot night, but everyone seemed friendly and nice, and there weren't any people trying to intimidate or conduct questionable business there on a Sunday afternoon. It's not the prettiest place I've been in Portland, to be sure, but I loved the houses and gardens, and it looks like the locals are dedicated to keeping their area safe, beautiful, and welcoming to visitors.
I hope to visit both places again soon.
At DiPrima Dolci we sat out on a back patio in the sunshine amid a very nice, romantic garden all overgrown and bountiful. I bet it looks even better later in the year. If you love gardening and would like to combine it with fresh cannoli and not-too-sweet but rich and tasty cheesecake, this is the place for you. I'd also like to thank them profusely for having high quality tea and not pouring boiling hot water over it so that it ended up overcooked. It was perfect--rare in this day of Stash or Taos tea with hot water meant for espresso searing it so that it tastes muddy and sour. I recommend going on a day when it would be nice to sit outside, and prepare to relax completely.
Oh, and I have to say that I appreciated the portions at both places. At DiPrima Dolci I ordered a small cannoli and RL ordered the marbled cheesecake. I didn't feel guilty snarfing as much as I did--the whole cannoli and half (or more) of the cheesecake. Much as I adore Rose's giant cake slices, I always mean to take half of them home and end up eating them all in one sitting, which does nothing good for my manly waistline. At the Tardis Room, the two pieces of cod and the sides were plenty for a heavy lunch, at least for me. There's a large (probably three pieces) available for folks with bigger appetites than I want to have. Yes, I would have gladly eaten a third piece of fish, but I'm glad I didn't.
If you're local, plan to check it out and worried about the neighborhood, don't be. It might be a different story on a hot night, but everyone seemed friendly and nice, and there weren't any people trying to intimidate or conduct questionable business there on a Sunday afternoon. It's not the prettiest place I've been in Portland, to be sure, but I loved the houses and gardens, and it looks like the locals are dedicated to keeping their area safe, beautiful, and welcoming to visitors.
I hope to visit both places again soon.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Customers that make me cringe
Had a return today from a gentleman who didn't like the flip flops he'd bought.
"These have two problems," he told me very seriously. I put on my best grave attention face. "First of all, I want you to see this." He took a flip flop and pushed it across my counter as if it were a Hot Wheels special edition car. It went about six inches. I had a really, really hard time not laughing, especially since he looked even more serious. "Did you see that?" he exclaimed. "I wore those on a vinyl floor and almost had a very serious fall. You should pull these all off the shelves immediately."
I imagined demonstrating the Hot Wheels flip flop to my boss and almost laughed out loud again. I think my serious face cracked a bit around the edges. "I don't think they'll let us do that."
"Then you'll just be part of the pay out for the lawsuit against the manufacturer when someone is seriously injured in these."
I thought about people suing because they wore high heels in sand and broke their ankle. Mmm, not so much.
"The second thing is that they have this cloth on the bottom that's peeling off," he said.
"Yeah, that's really bad." I finished processing the return, thinking about kids skating gleefully around hardwood floors in these things, and why more people don't sue manufacturers for making those hard plastic bottomed slippers that are far, far worse than the Hot Wheels flip flop. But I left it alone. "Sorry those didn't work out for you."
He gave me that 'you'll be hearing from my lawyer' look and stalked off.
I also had a lady dash in. "I just bought this," she said breathlessly, setting hair color on the counter. "I just want to trade it for a lighter color. It's way too dark. I didn't notice until I got outside."
The color was 'Clove,' a very dark, reddish, almost black brown. "Sorry, I have to run this as a return unless we're trading it for the identical color."
"Can I go grab the one I want?"
"I need your information--"
She left her ID on the table. I filled out the stuff while she was away. When she came back, she had a very, very dark brown, but without the reddish tones. "This is the one I want," she gasped. "How much longer will this take? We're buying a pickup truck and I have to meet someone."
And you're buying hair color ...? Now? Oh, never mind, it's not worth it. "Just take this to the cashier and you're all set."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Enjoy your almost indistinguishably dark brown hair color. It'll cover your light brown hair ... a lot.
I expect to see her back tomorrow.
"These have two problems," he told me very seriously. I put on my best grave attention face. "First of all, I want you to see this." He took a flip flop and pushed it across my counter as if it were a Hot Wheels special edition car. It went about six inches. I had a really, really hard time not laughing, especially since he looked even more serious. "Did you see that?" he exclaimed. "I wore those on a vinyl floor and almost had a very serious fall. You should pull these all off the shelves immediately."
I imagined demonstrating the Hot Wheels flip flop to my boss and almost laughed out loud again. I think my serious face cracked a bit around the edges. "I don't think they'll let us do that."
"Then you'll just be part of the pay out for the lawsuit against the manufacturer when someone is seriously injured in these."
I thought about people suing because they wore high heels in sand and broke their ankle. Mmm, not so much.
"The second thing is that they have this cloth on the bottom that's peeling off," he said.
"Yeah, that's really bad." I finished processing the return, thinking about kids skating gleefully around hardwood floors in these things, and why more people don't sue manufacturers for making those hard plastic bottomed slippers that are far, far worse than the Hot Wheels flip flop. But I left it alone. "Sorry those didn't work out for you."
He gave me that 'you'll be hearing from my lawyer' look and stalked off.
I also had a lady dash in. "I just bought this," she said breathlessly, setting hair color on the counter. "I just want to trade it for a lighter color. It's way too dark. I didn't notice until I got outside."
The color was 'Clove,' a very dark, reddish, almost black brown. "Sorry, I have to run this as a return unless we're trading it for the identical color."
"Can I go grab the one I want?"
"I need your information--"
She left her ID on the table. I filled out the stuff while she was away. When she came back, she had a very, very dark brown, but without the reddish tones. "This is the one I want," she gasped. "How much longer will this take? We're buying a pickup truck and I have to meet someone."
And you're buying hair color ...? Now? Oh, never mind, it's not worth it. "Just take this to the cashier and you're all set."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Enjoy your almost indistinguishably dark brown hair color. It'll cover your light brown hair ... a lot.
I expect to see her back tomorrow.
Monday, May 07, 2012
A Married Couple at Work
Soon now, our house sitters will move in (note to self, have to clean the kitchen!) and we'll be off for the much-anticipated work weekend.
My DH and I work really well together. At least, it works really well for me. We succeed at the dueling keyboards model of going out to dinner, which we don't call going out to dinner unless that's the actual focus. Most of the time it's going out to Wifi at a place that has food because our chosen work time conflicts with mealtime. We also succeed at the dueling keyboards model of hanging out around the house, and often bounce ideas off of each other when we take breaks for food, to stretch, or to deal with animal stuff.
We had a great time working at home together, during that all-too-short time period when we were able to do that. I think we both worried that we'd see too much of each other and get sick of each other, but that didn't happen. Maybe spending hours and hours not talking to each other with only mouse clicks and keyboard keys getting tapped in rapid succession helps shield us from over exposure. But I don't think I'd ever get tired of hanging around my DH. He's the kind of sunshine that won't give me a sunburn.
So we're both working hard to get to the point where we can both work full time at home, and so that I can travel with him on some of his trips overseas. Not all of them. Someone needs to hold down the fort, and we do have dogs. I don't think the cats and chickens would miss us very much. They love anyone who feeds them. But Chase, and our red-eared hounds Brian and Finn, tend not to eat when we're away. I'm not exaggerating. I have family members and former house-sitters who can attest to this. As a result, I'm nervous about being away for more than a few days.
But I would like to visit with some of the people and see some of the places he's connected with. Really wonderful people, living in legendary or beautiful or exotic or all-of-the-above places. It's funny how life works out. The introvert travels and meets tons of people while the extrovert stays home.
It's funny, too, that both my DH and I have been athletes most of our lives, but we both work at a physically demanding job that requires hours and hours of sitting employing small muscles instead of the great big muscle groups. I like it. And I look forward to focusing on that work. You can bet, though, that we'll be walking on beaches and maybe even running or sparring with bokken. We'll make the time, somehow. It's going to be a jam-packed working vacation and play is integral to our working life together. Without the physical stuff, my mental stuff languishes. And my DH is a genius physical sort of guy. He inspires me to belly dance, and keep in shape, and keep some sort of semblance of physical prowess good enough to defend myself if I need to.
He doesn't just inspire my physical self. (Rrrow!) He inspires me in all aspects of life, so I guess what I'm really anticipating during our time together is a kind of holistic inspiration. That sounded way fuzzier than I meant--but it's true in a very real sense. That inspiration will go into the skull machine, and out the words and art and maybe even music will come.
We may not talk to each other, but the communication is there. We're going to get a lot of stuff done as a result, way more than we'd get done individually. I tell my kids and it always proves to be true, at least in our family. Two people working together can get way more than twice the work done than two people working independently. Weird, but it works for us.
Hopefully, by this weekend, you'll see a lot of new stuff up on the Wyrd Goat website as a result of our working retreat. I'll keep you posted.
My DH and I work really well together. At least, it works really well for me. We succeed at the dueling keyboards model of going out to dinner, which we don't call going out to dinner unless that's the actual focus. Most of the time it's going out to Wifi at a place that has food because our chosen work time conflicts with mealtime. We also succeed at the dueling keyboards model of hanging out around the house, and often bounce ideas off of each other when we take breaks for food, to stretch, or to deal with animal stuff.
We had a great time working at home together, during that all-too-short time period when we were able to do that. I think we both worried that we'd see too much of each other and get sick of each other, but that didn't happen. Maybe spending hours and hours not talking to each other with only mouse clicks and keyboard keys getting tapped in rapid succession helps shield us from over exposure. But I don't think I'd ever get tired of hanging around my DH. He's the kind of sunshine that won't give me a sunburn.
So we're both working hard to get to the point where we can both work full time at home, and so that I can travel with him on some of his trips overseas. Not all of them. Someone needs to hold down the fort, and we do have dogs. I don't think the cats and chickens would miss us very much. They love anyone who feeds them. But Chase, and our red-eared hounds Brian and Finn, tend not to eat when we're away. I'm not exaggerating. I have family members and former house-sitters who can attest to this. As a result, I'm nervous about being away for more than a few days.
But I would like to visit with some of the people and see some of the places he's connected with. Really wonderful people, living in legendary or beautiful or exotic or all-of-the-above places. It's funny how life works out. The introvert travels and meets tons of people while the extrovert stays home.
It's funny, too, that both my DH and I have been athletes most of our lives, but we both work at a physically demanding job that requires hours and hours of sitting employing small muscles instead of the great big muscle groups. I like it. And I look forward to focusing on that work. You can bet, though, that we'll be walking on beaches and maybe even running or sparring with bokken. We'll make the time, somehow. It's going to be a jam-packed working vacation and play is integral to our working life together. Without the physical stuff, my mental stuff languishes. And my DH is a genius physical sort of guy. He inspires me to belly dance, and keep in shape, and keep some sort of semblance of physical prowess good enough to defend myself if I need to.
He doesn't just inspire my physical self. (Rrrow!) He inspires me in all aspects of life, so I guess what I'm really anticipating during our time together is a kind of holistic inspiration. That sounded way fuzzier than I meant--but it's true in a very real sense. That inspiration will go into the skull machine, and out the words and art and maybe even music will come.
We may not talk to each other, but the communication is there. We're going to get a lot of stuff done as a result, way more than we'd get done individually. I tell my kids and it always proves to be true, at least in our family. Two people working together can get way more than twice the work done than two people working independently. Weird, but it works for us.
Hopefully, by this weekend, you'll see a lot of new stuff up on the Wyrd Goat website as a result of our working retreat. I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Sore
I had a big weekend, thanks in part to the boy and the girl. Much gardening was accomplished by all, and man am I sore. No one got sunburned, though.
Beans are in, broccoli is in, beets are in, radishes and turnips are in, we have borage planted at the ends of rows to attract bees, and we harvested some rhubarb in the process of cutting off flower heads. I heard from someone that they have rhubarb that never flowers. Must be nice. Mine seem to always want to, but I foil their sexy plans as much as possible.
Also, big excitement (I know, I'm such a plant nerd) in the asparagus patch. I've finally had my first good-sized spear come up. Will I cut it? Heck no! I probably could, but these darned asparag--uh, asparagi? Asparaguses? Asparagus plants have been struggling for years, and I want them to get so big and strong that they become pests.
Looks like it'll be a good year for peaches, cherries, apples, pears, Asian pears, and marionberries (yum!)
I'm really looking forward to seeing what the garden will do this year.
Still to plant: The darned tomatoes, eggplant and peppers I've been potting up, zucchini, cucumbers, sunflowers, plus some ornamentals and herbs I've started from seed. It should be a big and fun garden this year, assuming our weather cooperates. My soil is at about 60F. Really, really good. It's just a bit too cool for squashes and cukes, cooler than I like for tomatoes, and way too cold for peppers. I'll try the eggplant about the same time as the tomatoes. The peppers will have to wait.
So, I'm curious. Am I pretty much the only person who goes out to the garden with a meat thermometer?
Beans are in, broccoli is in, beets are in, radishes and turnips are in, we have borage planted at the ends of rows to attract bees, and we harvested some rhubarb in the process of cutting off flower heads. I heard from someone that they have rhubarb that never flowers. Must be nice. Mine seem to always want to, but I foil their sexy plans as much as possible.
Also, big excitement (I know, I'm such a plant nerd) in the asparagus patch. I've finally had my first good-sized spear come up. Will I cut it? Heck no! I probably could, but these darned asparag--uh, asparagi? Asparaguses? Asparagus plants have been struggling for years, and I want them to get so big and strong that they become pests.
Looks like it'll be a good year for peaches, cherries, apples, pears, Asian pears, and marionberries (yum!)
I'm really looking forward to seeing what the garden will do this year.
Still to plant: The darned tomatoes, eggplant and peppers I've been potting up, zucchini, cucumbers, sunflowers, plus some ornamentals and herbs I've started from seed. It should be a big and fun garden this year, assuming our weather cooperates. My soil is at about 60F. Really, really good. It's just a bit too cool for squashes and cukes, cooler than I like for tomatoes, and way too cold for peppers. I'll try the eggplant about the same time as the tomatoes. The peppers will have to wait.
So, I'm curious. Am I pretty much the only person who goes out to the garden with a meat thermometer?
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Silly Farm Stuff
Cute mental picture of the day, if you like chickens.
Beatrice, the buff orpington, and Sophie, the silver lace wyandotte, excited about strawberries.
I had about five strawberries leftover whose skins were starting to get dark and they were becoming unappetizing. Not to the chickens, though! They spear them and then run around with the strawberries stuck to their beaks before shaking them off.
Beatrice wasn't as thrilled as Sophie, for whatever reason. She kept checking out different strawberries, as if hoping that the promise of all that red wonderfulness would pan out to something bigger. She kept reacting to eating a bite with an expression I swear said, "Really? That's it?"
I've been getting only one egg a day. Comparing eggs, it looks like the biddies are alternating. They both seem healthy. I think it's the on-again, off-again weather. After a couple of days in the 70s and 80s, we're back to the 60s and rain.
My tomatoes were terribly disappointed. Their leaves looked very disapproving when I checked on them this morning. Maybe even judgmental, as if the rain were my fault. If they could have pointed at me, I'm sure they would have.
Beatrice, the buff orpington, and Sophie, the silver lace wyandotte, excited about strawberries.
I had about five strawberries leftover whose skins were starting to get dark and they were becoming unappetizing. Not to the chickens, though! They spear them and then run around with the strawberries stuck to their beaks before shaking them off.
Beatrice wasn't as thrilled as Sophie, for whatever reason. She kept checking out different strawberries, as if hoping that the promise of all that red wonderfulness would pan out to something bigger. She kept reacting to eating a bite with an expression I swear said, "Really? That's it?"
I've been getting only one egg a day. Comparing eggs, it looks like the biddies are alternating. They both seem healthy. I think it's the on-again, off-again weather. After a couple of days in the 70s and 80s, we're back to the 60s and rain.
My tomatoes were terribly disappointed. Their leaves looked very disapproving when I checked on them this morning. Maybe even judgmental, as if the rain were my fault. If they could have pointed at me, I'm sure they would have.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Every Possible Combination
I haven't done a mean post about customers lately. See? I can be good! Except I had one the other day that I just can't resist being mean about.
She came in and let me know she was from out of state, which apparently in her language is code for don't hassle me with my return. (Now now, don't have too much fun guessing what her home state is. Be nice!) Whatevs, it's not like returns bother me unless they're clearly user-damaged and/or a form of free rental. Anyway, she puts a headlamp, like the kind you'd wear in a cave, and a very sticky hummingbird feeder--the easy fill kind--on the counter. "This doesn't work and this leaks," she told me. "I just want another headlamp, but the hummingbird feeder is my mom's and she decided she just wants her money back."
"What's wrong with the headlamp?" I ask, truly and purely innocent.
"It doesn't work."
"Maybe the batteries are dead. Here, let me test them." I start to open it up.
"Actually, I think they put in the wrong ones. Both of them are positive, and it needs one positive and one negative battery."
Luckily she didn't notice my eyes popping out of my head. I put them back in discretely. "Maybe we can try flipping one of them over," I suggest very, very gently, trying not to fall over and roll around on the ground laughing. And I feel bad for wanting to laugh, because seriously, lots and lots and lots of perfectly fine and smart people do just fine without knowing the first thing about batteries and how they work. But ... still. I would have laughed if I wasn't trying to figure out a way to help her without embarrassing her.
"Oh no," she said. "I tried that. I tried every possible combination and it still doesn't work."
"Okay," I said. "I'll tell you what. I'll test the batteries to see if one or both of them are dead, and you can go get another headlamp. Okay?"
"Okay. I'll want to test it first to see if it works."
"I don't blame you. We can do that."
So she leaves and true to my word, I test the batteries. And they are whack the top green, fully charged. I put one of them + side up, and the other I flip over. They're the flat kind with the rough bellies, so the stamp showing what pole is what is only stamped on one side. I close her up, click, and voila! There is light.
It's like magic. Seriously.
I knew then that the hummingbird feeder was perfectly and utterly fine. I bet that when they put it together after they filled it, one of three things happened. They put the gasket and the washer/bar thingie (see? I don't know what it's called but I'm not stupid!) in the wrong order, they misthreaded it when they put it together, or they either forgot to set the bar to 'feed' or put it together in such a way that the feed/fill bar were in the wrong place and couldn't be adjusted.
Was I going to say crap to her? Heck no! That would be truly stupid.
"Hey," I said when she came back. "I fixed it!"
"How'd you do that?" she asked, amazed.
"I flipped one of the batteries over. Do you want to see?"
"No, thanks."
"Did you want the new one instead?"
"No," she said, hopefully pleased that I was giving her power of choice and treating her like the good customer she was, "if it works I want it." She took the headlamp and clicked it on and off several times to satisfy herself.
We did the return on the hummingbird feeder, and she went on her merry way. And that's when I realized that she had said something kinda dumb.
She'd tried every possible combination, she'd said.
Sorry, dear. You should know better.
But again, to her credit, I have this terrible fear of electronic things blowing up if I put them together wrong. She may have been afraid of shorting it out or something if she put one of the batteries in upside-down. I don't blame her.
Still.
Hee.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Cover Art--I love my tablet!
I love my Bamboo Create. It has hugely improved my ability to manipulate GIMP. And yes, btw, I didn't have to do anything special for the tablet to talk to GIMP. Essentially, the tablet and little pen thingy (I'm so technically advanced!) work just like my mouse and my pad on my laptop and all that. In fact, I can switch between them quickly and smoothly, using whichever gets me where I'm going the quickest and/or the best.
I'm never sure how effective my covers are, but this was definitely the most technically difficult project I've done. The Masks cover (which I plan to redo pretty soon) involved a lot of repetitive, detailed activity, especially with the filigree on the dark half of the mask. This cover had many, many more layers and employed some skills and tools that I simply didn't have when I did the Masks cover.
Anyway, here it is. This, btw, will be an awesome, awesome anthology. It's not available yet. I'm sure it'll be all over Facebook and stuff when it goes live.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Free the Bird!
I have an excuse for not posting in a long time. No, really. And it's not that I've been working non-stop at my day job, although sometimes it feels just like that. I haven't even been sucked into garden-world, though I did rototill a bit during the good weather, opening up some more ground for the planting that will be coming soon (I hope!)
My Bamboo tablet came in, and I'm learning how to play with it. In the name of learning how to work with the stylus, I played a few rounds of Free the Bird. Man, is it addictive. And cute! OMG it's so cute. And in a couple of minutes I'm going to be searching around online to see if there are additional levels available, because apparently ten is not enough for me.
I'm so bad.
Anyway, I haven't tried the tablet with GIMP yet, but I'll be doing that very soon. Really. Just as soon as I find out about Free the Bird.
Because sometimes, ten levels of cute simply isn't enough.
Update: Wah. No additional levels seem to be available. Heart broken. Tears falling. Back to work, I guess. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggggghhhhhhh
Friday, October 28, 2011
The End!
I've hit the end of Masks. Now to go back and add a couple of minor details, update some maps, finish the cover, and I'm done!
done done dunny done done I'm done! I'm done I'm done I'm done. Done done done.
Okay, now done looks like it's spelled wrong. But I don't care because I'm done!
I may have to put together a writer's clock. I'm thinking about something like this:
5 Why oh why?
10 I'm crazy
15 OMG, Fun!
20 What are dishes?
25 Out of underwear
30 Screeeeeech
35 Lost ... need ... map ...
40 Researching ...
45 Flying in the dark
55 OMG, Done!
12 Zzzzzz
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Twins and Other Surprises
We had a few surprises over the last week. First came the cute little twin tomatoes. So adorable, and tasty too! They weren't just attached by the green. The skins were connected too.
Then we had a double yolker egg. These actually happen pretty often. Grandma House (my mom) got a double yolker in the last batch of eggs we sent her. Young hens tend to make mistakes like that while their bodies learn how to make eggs. When Chihiro laid her first egg, she forgot to put the yolk and the shell on it. The result looked like a weird white waterballoon. The membrane was really tough, strong enough to bounce on pavement without breaking. The second egg was better. Still no shell, but it had a yolk.
And now she appears to be sharing a nest with our best egg-hider, Sophie!
We were looking for the hens. We lost our rooster to a predator (probably a raccoon but it might be the return of the super-bold coyote) and we were worried when the hens didn't come running up for their mealtime. I don't usually go all the way to the NE corner of the pasture because I can see pretty clearly if there's a chicken there, but this time I went to see if the predator had dug a hole under the fence.
And that's when I found thirty eggs all cuddled up together in a chicken-sized nest.
The girl, when she put them all in a basket, found that some of the ones on the bottom were actually partially buried and had to be dug out.
Sometimes living on a small farm can be painful, sad, frustrating, and even scary.
But some days, a lot of days actually, it's a lot of fun. I'd even go so far as to say hilarious.
I love living on a farm.
Now, the girl and I have a lot of eggs to float-test.
(If you're not sure about how good an egg is, just submerge it in water. If it lays flat, it's fresh. If the nose tips up a bit, it's good to hard boil. Super fresh eggs don't hard boil well because the whites stick to the shell. If the nose points straight up, it's iffy. I might still hard boil it, but I'd probably give it to the dogs all chopped up rather than feed it to a human being. And if it floats--run away! If it bobs on the surface of the water, don't even run. Just carefully--very, very, very carefully--pick the egg up and dispose of it somewhere where the evil smell when it inevitably breaks won't foul up the whole neighborhood. Yech!)
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