Day: February 1, 2006

Art

Making your savior behavior look evil*

Shelly

I started watching the SotU address, but just couldn’t stomach it. Like a good horror movie, I think it’s best to watch our fearless leader speechify in the company of others, so I’m going to do so Friday. I’ve already had enough bad and bizarre dreams lately. There’s no reason to deliberately ask for trouble.

About those postcards Dawn mentioned in comments. I need to pick up some ink at Wal-mark**. I hate shopping there, but sometimes it’s necessary. Hopefully, they’ll have what I need. One word of caution (well, two, actually). First, there is a huge difference between how images look in print and on screen. The luminosity won’t be the same in the printed versions, so I’ll have to do some test printing to see if it’s even worth pursuing. They may end up looking like total crap. Second, I suck at getting things mailed out, so I won’t guarantee to get anything in the mail in a timely fashion. I’m just sayin’…

So, Dawn (or anyone else–here or abroad, as I don’t mind mailing overseas–who would like a postcard depicting rural Indiana), if I can make decent prints, which images are you interested in? I also might also be persuaded to do some postcards of artwork (same caveats apply).

Oh, and Denise, if you’re out there… That silly voice you do? The little voice in my head has adopted it, which is equally entertaining and disconcerting. Yesterday, in a staff meeting, it kept talking to me, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Make it stoooooop!!!

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* My current stack of car CDs includes a large sampling of questionable ’80s music (as opposed to the unquestionable kind, of which I have yet to see any evidence indicating the existence). My apologies if this has given anyone big hair and skinny tie flash backs. Just be thankful I wasn’t a Wham! fan, or you might really be sorry.

** The local patois is truly a marvelous thing. I think, culturally and dialectically, southern Indiana is not entirely unlike Appalachia. That sounds like a stretch, until you consider how close we are geographically to northern Kentucky.

Crankypantsing, News & Politics

And, About that Alito Guy

Shelly

It occurs to me that one might not be all that very surprised that Alito was confirmed. While lots of folks are a-froth about it (and I am, too, because it just plain sucks for women and for those who give half a damn about our country and our constitution), I’m not at all surprised that Democrats capitulated on this one. The problem isn’t so much a partisan one, as a lack of partisanship. Yes, we can point our fingers (remember, it’s the middle one that counts!) at Democrats, complaining that they don’t have backbones. That’s likely true. What is also true is that they are capital P Politicians first and foremost, and in that sense, they live cheek-by-jowl with their Republican brothers and sisters–cut from the same cloth, as it were.

Crankypantsing

The End is Nigh

Shelly

I have a thing about using up the dregs of stuff. Shampoo, conditioner, tissues, mayonnaise, paper, tooth paste, soy sauce, gas (well, no one wants to use up the very end of their gas, but if my tank gets below half full, I get nervous), and ink are all objects of my particular “cannot use it up” obsession. Don’t ask me why, because I have no explanation for it. It’s not like not finishing it–whatever it may be on any given occasion–off is gaining me anything, because it might as well be completely gone for all the good it does me.

Right now, it’s ink, in particular, that is giving me fits. The black cartridge for my Epson printer is nearly kaput, thanks to Pandora, who keeps stepping on the on switch whenever she walks over the top of it. Which she does about eighty times each day. Every time she turns it on, it goes through a self-cleaning cycle, which wastes ink. One of these days I’ll get around to moving and/or covering it, to keep the cat from walking on it. In the meantime, I have to go buy a new black cartridge.

I’m also almost out of India ink, as well. I’ve been using my dip pen a lot lately, and have managed to burn through most of a 2oz bottle of brown. Lord only knows where my bottle of black is, but it’s of no use to me, as I cannot locate it. Hrmph. So, I ordered a bottle of black, two of brown, and a bottle of cleaner, which I’m also nearly out of.

In ancient art news, wouldn’t you just hate to be the person who trips, falls, and destroys three–three!–Qing vases? That must engender the sort of shame one never, ever, lives down. I mean never. My question is, why on earth were the vases in such a vulnerable position? Protecting its objects from harm is a museum’s first priority, so displaying them in such a way that someone can trip and take out three of them at once seems a bit careless to me.