Month: December 2005

Meta, Pets, Photography

Monday Pet-blogging

Shelly

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The sun came out today, and it was blinding. Harriet played for awhile outdoors, hunting bunnies and giving the squirrels a piece of her mind. I finally got a photo of her with her eyes squeezed half shut, because of the bright sunlight. I love it when she does that.

I let Pandora come outside with us for a little while, too, so that she could explore the snow while I cleaned off the car. She’s pretty unflappable, but she didn’t know quite what to think of the snow. It took her about 30 seconds to decide that it was not her idea of a good time. I let her back inside, and she hasn’t asked to go out since. Usually, she sticks her head out the door whenever I let the dog in or out, but I think her curiosity has been satisfied, at least for the time being.

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A lot of the snow has been melted by the sun, but it was so cold today that there’s still a crust of it covering everything. I noticed that the snow on my car, which is dark, has melted completely, while the neighbor’s truck, which is white, is still coated in it. Yay for solar energy. It’ll probably be singing a different tune next summer, but for now, it’s nice.

I stayed home from work today, but didn’t get much done. I’d planned on working on a couple of art projects, but all I managed was some scanning and Photoshopping of old journal entries. I uploaded them to Flickr (Hemp-bound Journal and Dada Journal), and will eventually get them uploaded to the website.

Meta, Photography

It’s Flickrrrrr-ific!

Shelly

I had intended to do some serious sleeping in this morning, but, alas, it was not to be. I woke up a couple of hours ago–too early to want to stay awake, but too late to reasonably go back to bed–to a solid grey day. I should have known that the good weather couldn’t last. The sunset last night was gorgeous, though, so I guess that makes up for it. It was an blindingly intense orange, with a ginormous sun pillar. I’ve seen sun pillars before, but never one this large or well defined. Of course, I was A) in my car and B) without my camera, so I didn’t get any pictures of it. Damn! What makes me cranky is that I almost picked up my camera on my way out the door that morning, but I decided it was pointless to take it along, as I was just going to work. That’ll learn me!

So, no pretty sunset pictures today, but I do have a photo I took last spring, just as the foliage was starting to unfurl. I love the lacy, delicate look of the pale, new leaves, and the softness of the mist. It’s just the ticket on a disgusting winter day, I think.

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I did some cross-pollination last night. I uploaded a metric butt-load of images from my website to my Flickr account, and added/rearranged some of my sets. Dawn asked about my Flickr account, and it occurred to me that the audiences for Flickr, blogs, and websites are slightly different, so it might be a good idea to duplicate information. It’ll be an interesting sociological experiment to see how the numbers fall out.

I still have to upload watercolors (such as they are), paintings on canvas, the ABC book, and a few odds and ends, and do a little bit more fine-tuning of sets, but everything else is pretty much finished, I think. Hopefully, I’ll have time to finish it in the next day or two. I also found a couple of images that’d been uploaded to Flickr, that hadn’t made it to the website. I have no idea how that happened, but it’ll be soon rectified, as well.

It was sort of weird going back through some of the gluebook and composition book images. I did the typical “That sucks,” “That’s not bad,” and “I totally forgot about that one” routine. But, by the time I’d finished, I also found that my head was swirling with half-formed ideas. So maybe it was a good thing that I decided to do this at this point in time.

Crankypantsing, Music

6:58, Are You Sure Where My Spock Is?

Shelly

6:58, are you sure where my Spock is?
Ears
Ears
Ears…
— Not Quite Tori

I often get random lyrics swirling around in my head. I think that happens to most people. The lyric du jour is not actually a lyric, though. For some reason, my brain insists that Tori Amos’ Spark would be vastly improved by the above substitution in lyrics.

I wouldn’t be suffering from this malady, if I had been motivated to burn some new CDs for the car. Most of the current CDs in my car are ones I made to listen to while arting. They work fabulously well for that, but they don’t do a whole lot to enhance the driving experience. Which is why, I guess, my brain started making up random lyrics on its own.

It could also have something to do with the fact that, though I went to bed early last night, I took Benadryl because my allergies were acting up. Usually, Benadryl makes me comatose, but last night, it made me wired-tired. I kept waking up, not knowing if I’d actually been asleep, or if I’d been awake and my mind had just been wandering. When I did finally fall asleep, I had weird dreams that kept waking me up. All in all, it was not a very restful experience, so I cannot recommend this product and/or service. Ugh.

Crankypantsing, Photography

Happy Friday!

Shelly

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Belt of Venus 15 December 2005

Yesterday morning was gross and disgusting, with the dreaded “wintry mix” of snow, rain, and sleety crap. The sky cleared up in the afternoon, though, and the rest of the day was absolutely gorgeous. I got another photo of the Belt of Venus at sunset. I think this one turned out a bit better than the last ones I took. The colors are a little more saturated and brighter, I think because the reflectivity of the remaining snow provided more light. The trees in the foreground aren’t just black blobs; they’ve got a bit of shading and definition.

I picked up a track pad, and have been playing around with it. I’m a little meh about it, but for the time being, it’s giving me a break from the mouse. It’s a little frustrating retraining my mousy hand-eye coordination to work with finger-tip motion instead of wrist motion, but adjusting to it hasn’t taken as long as I thought it would. It’s still too early for a thumbs-up or thumbs-down, though. If I decide I like it, I may see if I can get a keyboard-track pad combo for my work computer. A few folks have them, but I wanted to make sure it would be an improvement before asking for one.

I went into town to register my car[1] (finally!) and to get gas and run a few other errands. But! I got to the gas station and my damned bank card wouldn’t work. They’d sent me a replacement card, because a vendor I’d purchased something from had reported being hacked. I called the bank, and according to them the new card ought to work, but for some reason it’s not. So I guess I’m waiting for a new, new card to get here. In the meantime, I have to figure out how I’m going to get cash, which is more problematic than one might think. They’ve closed most of their branches, and the ones that are still open have some seriously wacky-assed–and totally non-work-compatible–hours. Hrmph.

So, anyway, I’ve been home most of the day, with the teevee on in the background. I haven’t been actively watching it, but there’s one ad that’s run repeatedly that’s about to get on my last nerve. It’s an animated commercial for Triaminic, a kids’ cold medicine. In it, a momma clam tries to get her child clam to take its medicine. The child refuses, and the mother whips out the “I’m going to tell your father!” threat. WTF? First, why on earth is the mother incapable of disciplining her kids on her own? Second, what an awful message to send to kids, telling them that their fathers are to be feared. It’s as if a mans main role in child-rearing is to crack the whip and keep his kids in line. That’s fucked up.

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[1] I love the folks at the local BMV[2]. I didn’t have the registration for my old car (I’d left it in the glove compartment), but they still let me recycle my old plate. The only problem was that the date sticker had peeled almost all the way off it. It was still hanging on, but there was no way I could put it on my car that way and expect it not to fall off. The woman said I’d have to go to the police to get a new sticker (and pay a $6 replacement fee). Hrmph. But, she took another look at it, and said she might be able to fix it well enough to keep the sticker on the plate. She took it into the back room, glued the hell out of it, and brought it back to me. Yay! It’s a little crinkled, but it’s intact and stuck tight to the plate.

[2] Yes, that’s right. I’ve never had a long wait, even when the place was packed. They’re quick and cheerful and so far have been quite helpful. I can totally recommend this product and/or service!1!!

Art, Crankypantsing, Meta

I’ll Take Potpourri for $200, Alex

Shelly

Here’s a look at marginalia.

I have had about a million discussions about the proper care and handling of books, both from the perspective of a caretaker and an owner. A common sentiment among bibliophiles is that modifying a book in any way is an act of vandalism. Book ownership as a trusteeship; we should preserve our books for future generations, so that they might experience those books as they were originally published. I don’t buy that argument, though. A book is a living thing. The very act of reading it transforms it. From oils in your hands, which over time develop into stains, to creases along the spine, a book that has been read bears scars that testify to its life’s travels. When further transformed, by the addition of annotations, a book becomes a unique and priceless historical document. Not that my marginalia have any pretensions to such importance, but I think they are a far cry from vandalism.

One of my favorite high school teachers said that, if you hadn’t written in a book, you hadn’t truly read it. I don’t know that that’s strictly true, but being given the permission to write in text books dramatically changed the learning process for me. From that point on, I underlined, bracketed, highlighted, dog-eared, and took notes in the margins, all with great glee and abandon. Books became living things I interacted with, instead of passive things that simply existed to be read. Thank you, Mrs. Taylor, for that, and for a whole lot of other stuff. You were one of the bestest teachers EVAR.

I mention this, because it relates to my next altered book project. I still don’t have anything concrete enough to share, but it shall be forthcoming. Soon!

A Festivus for the Restivus? I used to dislike Seinfeld, but then I moved to the Land of No Cable, and discovered that when there’s nothing else on television, Seinfeld isn’t so bad. In fact, it’s occasionally damned good. There’s rarely a day that goes by that something Seinfeldian doesn’t crop up. Right now, as it’s the Solstice Season (Bill O’Reilley can kiss my fat ass), I feel like work is nothing but a revolving staff party. I hate staff parties. I don’t go to them, it makes me cranky to get the inevitable food sign-up memos, and I especially hate the twelfty gabillion e-mails counting down the commencement of the inevitable party. The worst, though, is when higher-ups go around corralling and shaming anti-social folks like me into attending. That especially pisses me off.

So, a co-worker called this morning (I’ve mentioned that I’m the only one who seems able to answer the phone?), asking me to go downstairs to meet her at the loading dock with a book truck, so that she could deliver goodies for this afternoon incarnation of The Party. I was not amused. Not amused in the least. It’s enough to make the Baby Jeebus cry. And, if that doesn’t do it, maybe this will? I mean, who wouldn’t want a menorah made out of tampons?

If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly brimful of the Holiday Spirit, whatever the hell that is. Not even the Viggo Mortensen Advent calendar has been able to ungrinchify me.

And now for a quick game of Statstacularity. I have to wonder if the folks who get to my blog or websites via a search engine bother to read the accompanying descriptive text. Because, somehow, I don’t think they do. Otherwise, the person searching for “ejaculating penis photos” probably wouldn’t have bothered visiting. I’m just sayin’… Also, “n.u.d.e. celebrity photos.” And, what’s up with acronymization? Is it supposed to be some sort of super s33kr1t code? I’m still getting lots of hits for puggles and “winter sky,” though singly, not in combination. There’s a thought, though. Imagine a Pug x Beagle, ears outstretched, soaring majestically through the brooding winter sky.

And since I’m in the mood to pick nits (whenever am I not?), the Maya people speak Mayan. There is no -n on the end of the word when it refers to the people themselves, or when it refers to their artifacts. It’s one thing for regular folks to get it wrong, but there is just no excuse for news editors not knowing the difference. That said, this mural is pretty damned cool. What’s special about it is that it dates from ~100BCE, which is 200 years before the classic period. These may be the earliest Maya wall paintings to be discovered.

Mural paintings in San Bartolo

This portion of the mural depicts a king making a blood sacrifice by piercing his penis. The practice was common among Maya rulers, who bore responsibility for the well being of their subjects. The genitals or tongue would be pierced using either an obsidian blade or a stingray spine. Pieces of bark paper were soaked in the blood, or, in some cases, ropes made of bark paper were pulled through holes pierced through the skin. The blood-soaked paper would then be burned in an offering to the gods.

To the ancient Maya, blood sacrifice was necessary for the survival of the gods, who in turn provided the Maya with everything they needed. The gods could not exist without the Maya, and the Maya could not exist without their gods.

I’m all blogged out, but since I invoked Viggo up there somewhere, I’ll leave you on this note:

I’m not anti-Bush; I’m anti-Bush behavior. In other words, I’m against cheating, greed, cruelty, racism, imperialism, religious fundamentalism, treason, and the seemingly limitless capacity for hypocrisy shown by Bush and his administration.
— Viggo Mortensen

Art, Photography

Winter Ramblings

Shelly

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After last week’s episode of Adventures in Driving, I ended up staying home all weekend for an extended snow holiday. I wish I could say I got lots of important stuff accomplished, but mostly, I slept, played with the dog, slept, read books, slept, played with the dog, and slept some more. Also, I slept. And played with the dog. Apparently, I had a lot of sleeping to catch up on, which was good, because I ended up staying up way past my bedtime last night. I had to watch the finale of Survivor, dontchaknow?

Anyway, the long weekend was a much-needed mini mental health holiday. I did finally get around to clearing the rest of the snow off the deck and car yesterday, before it could refreeze into a sheet of ice. Since I still haven’t bought a window scraper, I figured I’d better plan ahead. That was about the most constructive thing I did. Alas, it was only marginally helpful.

When I pulled in on Thursday–after unsticking myself after I slid off the road–I’d been waffling about leaving the car in 4WD. Should I or shouldn’t I? I finally decided on “should,” and was damned glad of it this morning. We’d gotten just enough sleet yesterday, then snow overnight, to make the lane close to impossible to navigate. It was that yucky almost-freezing slush that, when compacted (by, like, feet or car tires), turns to ice. So, of course, I ended up sliding sideways into the neighbors’ yard again. Did I mention that they’ve got a pond that is disturbingly close to the road? It’s not so scary when going up the lane, but coming down it, if you slide off in the right place–and, of course, I did–you feel like you’re aimed right at it. Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. I was able to get myself out and get onto the public road without too much trouble, but even so, that’s not what I wanted to be doing at 5am.

I love cold and snow–truly I do–but (obviously!) I hate to drive in it. I also can’t stand the dreary Indiana winters. The sun finally came out today, which helped, but we’ll soon return to the endless monotony of grey, grey, grey. And more snow on Wednesday, too, likely mixed with sleet and freezing rain and all the vile crap that takes all the fun out of snowdays. Humph.

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So, about Survivor… I wasn’t really keen on any of the final contestants after Gary was voted out. It was more a matter of who I didn’t want to win (isn’t that usually the case?) As far as I was concerned, as long as Judd didn’t win, I would’ve been happy. Stephanie not winning was a bonus, though. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t like her. She was whiny and negative this time around. Or, maybe, she was always that way and I didn’t notice it previously? Either way, I wasn’t impressed with her.

Judd, though, was another matter. Talk about rude, obnoxious, petulant, mean, selfish, arrogant, and ignorant. I really can’t think of anything nice to say about him. He was a complete ass, to the point that I often had to turn the channel because I couldn’t stand the embarrassment factor. I had to laugh, though, when he had a melt-down because Stephanie had the audacity to not share information with him. Specifically, she didn’t tell him that she and the others had decided to vote him out. Can you blame her, after the shit fits he threw when others dared to cross him? Who in their right mind would want to invite one of his diatribes? Why on earth it came as a surprise to him that others–even those in his alliance–would perhaps not share all their cards with him, is a mystery to me. It happens in real life, and a competition such as Survivor is bound to intensify the behavior. No matter how well you know someone, trust them, and believe they have your best interests in mind, you simply cannot share everything with them. Aside from the fact that humans need a psychological buffer, it’s just not possible to share every waking thought with another person. Nor, if you’re trying to ultimately get an advantage over others, is it desirable.

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Speaking of things that make me go hmmm, there was a recent discussion in the Collage Museum group (I believe the archives are public) about art vs. craft. This is one of those topics that pops up regularly, and never fails to ruffle feathers and knot knickers. Why, I’ll never figure out if I live to be a gazillion. In this go-round–which produced some meaty food for thought–someone took offense at another person’s definitions of the two terms. Several others chimed in to define and explain their points of view. Then, for some mind boggling reason, someone else started tsk-tsking, and demanded that the subject be dropped, because it offended her. Yet another person also requested the subject be discontinued, because he is “very busy” and cannot be bothered to read voluminous posts covering such piddling matters. M’kaythen. Are these last two people adults, or what? If they’re busy, or offended, then stop reading. Don’t expect others to do your censoring for you. Would you walk into a party, decide you didn’t like the music, and proceed to demand that the hosts and/or guests cater to your wishes to have it changed? You could, I suppose, but I wouldn’t recommend it, as it’s in spectacularly bad taste.

I’m quite happy to report that, though my experience with Yahoo groups is that the list owner will almost always shut down a discussion if anyone starts whinypantsing, the owner of the Collage Museum group did not do so. Good for him.

Vaguest Teaser Evar, AHOY!1!! Speaking of art, I’ve got a new altered book idea. I haven’t started on it, and the concept hasn’t coalesced enough to describe, but I don’t think it’ll be long before I’m ready to begin. I’ll post more when it starts to take shape.

[The above photographs depict the Belt of Venus, taken 5 December 2005. The Belt of Venus is the strip of pinkish color sandwiched between the blue sky (above) and the darker blue shadow of the earth (below). It appears after sunset and before sunrise, along the horizon opposite the sun. The top two photos show the dark shadow more clearly, just above the horizon. In the bottom picture, it’s a faint band nestled just above the dip at the center of the ridge line. It’s nice to have periodic reminders of why I put up with crappy Indiana weather. The gorgeous landscape is a major one.]

Photography

Instant Review: Baking a Cake

Shelly

It’s cold and snowy, so baking a cake seemed like the obvious thing to do. One of my favorites is cockeyed cake–the cake you make when you don’t have any cake-making ingredients in the house. No butter? No eggs? No baking powder? No milk? No problem! Bake a cockeyed cake. Which I did. Except, as I was pulling it out of the oven, I dropped the pan and the cake landed on the oven rack, upside down. What a pain in the arse. I had bits of cake everywhere. Not to be deterred, though, I whipped up another one. I will have cake, damnit!

Cockeyed Cake
1 1/2 cup flour
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup cocoa
1/4 cup cooking oil
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup water
1 tsp baking soda
1 tbls vinegar
dash of salt

Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl. Mix together the wet ingredients (I measure the water in a 2 cup Pyrex measuring cup, then add the rest of the wet ingredients to it and mix them together). Add the wet ingredients to the dry and mix thoroughly. Pour into a greased cake pan and bake at 350F for 20-30 minutes (I really don’t know how long it takes. I test for doneness by pressing the center of the cake gently with a finger, or inserting a fork into it. If the fork comes out clean, it’s done.)

It’s nice and moist, so it’s good unfrosted. Occasionally, we’d make caramelly butterscotch sauce to pour over it. That, too, is easy peasy.

Caramelly Butterscotch Sauce
1 can sweetened condensed milk (you can substitute milk, cream, or evaporated milk, for a less sweet sauce)
1 stick butter (not margarine!)
1 cup brown sugar
dash of vanilla

Chuck it all in a sauce pan and let everything melt together. Bring to boil and cook to soft ball stage. It will brown slightly, which is fine. It’s a thin line between browned and burnt, though, so be careful not to overcook it. Let it cool slightly, then pour it over the warm cake and enjoy.

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Cockeyed Cake with Caramel-Butterscotch Icing

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Instant Review: Snow!

Shelly

I don’t know how much snow we finally ended up with, but it’s a goodly amount. And, it’s purty. As of last night’s news, it was six inches. We had high winds overnight, so there’s likely a lot of drifting on some of the back roads. I decided to stay home today, because I didn’t even want to think about repeating yesterday’s driving experience. It was truly, truly horrible.

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A normally 35 minute drive took me over 2.5 hours. The roads had not been plowed or sanded or anything. I saw several plows travelling in the opposite lane, with blades up, but the west-bound lane hadn’t been touched. WTF? Every place where the snow was churned up made me fish-tail, so intersections were, um, interesting. It was really a horrible, horrible experience, but somehow I managed to get home without wrecking.

The funny/good/sad part was that I managed to stay on the road, but when I got home, I slid off our lane and got stuck tight in the neighbor’s yard. Haw! Much hilarity ensued. I was wearing stupid shoes and short socks, for maximum snow-up-the-legs effect. I was also dressed thoroughly inappropriately, in a t-shirt and a hoodie, with no gloves, scarf, or hat. No shovel, either. Or cat litter. So, I had to walk home to get properly dressed and get a shovel and cat litter (and to let Harriet out, which was ridiculously funny. Harriet: “Eeew! WTF is that?!). But, I got unstuck all by myself, which I’m sure, if the neighbors were watching out their windows, afforded them much high-quality entertainment. It also gave me a chance to work off all the scared-to-the-point-of-vomiting nervous energy I’d worked up driving home, so it was probably all-in-all not a bad thing.

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And then I got to hang out with Harriet and play in the snow, which was all kinds of fun. She was much put out at first, but she quickly got her snow legs and did all sorts of snow-plowing, boinging, snow-snorting, and bird chasing. It’s a whole new world when you cover it with white stuff.

I have to say that I’m pretty happy with how the Tracker handled in the snow. Yeah, I was slipping and sliding all over the place, but not as badly as many other folks. And, after I dug myself out of the neighbor’s yard, I was able to actually get up the driveway. That would *not* have been possible in the MoonPie of Delight. *love*

One thing I do not love, though, is students. As I was trying to leave campus yesterday, they were in all sorts of inadvisable, dangerous places, doing all sorts of inadvisable, dangerous things. Cars were obviously sliding everywhere, but there were students walking out right in front of them. What the hell were they thinking?! The pièce de résistance, though, was a group of students standing in the middle of the road, throwing snowballs at cars. That kind of fuck-headed asshattery ought to be criminal.

Crankypantsing, Ladybusiness, Meta, News & Politics

Non Sequiturs-a-Go-Go!

Shelly
  • Why do pedestrians insist on J-walking at the slowest possible rate of speed? If you’re going to barge out into the street, in the path of on-coming traffic, the least you could do is pick up the pace a bit. That’s all I’m asking.
  • I did some minor clean-up and rearranging on the website. I had somehow missed fixing the navigation links on one page, as well as specifying a background color. I also rounded up the bad poetry I’d posted here, and placed it in the Writing section, along with a new piece, Three Things.
  • Shake-n-Bake tofu is damnfinegood. No, really! I hate the texture of tofu, so I’m normally not a fan. However, if you use extra firm tofu, slice it really thinly, coat it with Shake-n-Bake, then bake it until it’s crispy and slightly jerky-like, it’s delicious. Of course, it also isn’t exactly good for you when prepared that way, but whatever. It’s still better for you than potato chips, yes?
  • State-by-state GOP Scandal Scorecard. Indiana is fairly well represented, with “Our Man Mitch” leading the pack.
  • Walgreens has placed four of its Missouri pharmacists on leave for refusing to fill prescriptions for Plan B. (It is illegal in Missouri for pharmacies that carry birth control pills to refuse sale of Plan B.) That’s all well and good, but the drugstore chain has offered to relocate the employees to states where it’s legal to refuse to dispense certain drugs on moral grounds. So, it’s not like Walgreens is taking a stand. They’re just adhering to state law, and will likely foist their employees off on the less fortunate residents of another state.
  • A heaping dose of Christmas kitsch from Going Jesus, in the form of Angels We Have Heard Are High.
  • I’m suddenly getting a metric butt-load of hits from searches for “winter sky.” It’s interesting how things like that happen in waves.
Uncategorized

Lost and Found

Shelly

I love kids’ books–especially old ones–and pick up lots of them at yard sales and thrift stores. Sometimes, there are interesting bits of ephemera tucked into the books. This was the case with a copy of Jane Abbott’s The Barberry Gate that I got from the public library’s book sale. The book itself wasn’t anything terribly special–a romantic young adult mystery from the 1920s, in a library binding–but inside it I found a 4H name tag from 1940. What was written on the back was interesting. I assume, this being 1940 and it being 4H camp, that La Vaughn is a girl, and the reference is simply to she and Anita being cabin- or bunk-mates.

4H Name Badge front
Recto: “Hello! I am Anita Strasburger. Who are you?”

4H Name Badge back
Verso: “1940 club camp at Battle Ground South Bend cottage La Vaughn & I sleep to gether”