Month: August 2006

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

The Plague: a retrospective

Shelly

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I have watched way too much television over the past week. I’ve gone through three and a half boxes of Kleenex (with lotion!), one bottle of Mucinex, one bottle of cough medicine, and a whole lotta juice and water. I have learned that you should not cook when you have the flu, because whatever you make will taste vile. Not that I’ve actually wanted to eat anything, that is. I have also learned that it is possible to be asleep and awake at the same time, and it is not very restful at all. I have alsoalso learned that Boxers make damnfine hot water bottles.

I alsoalsoalso learned that Typhoid Mary told our boss that she just had allergies, but that the person in the cube next to her overheard her telling someone she was running a fever. I’m pretty sure she’s to blame for my week+ of misery, and I am right some Jesus pissed off at her for it. Thankfully, no one else at work seems to have caught it. I suspect I did because my allergies were at their worst and I was already feeling like crap.

What really pisses me off is that I had to use up all my sick and vacation time, and I was too damned sick to actually get anything done at home.

(Okay, who told Cheerios they were allowed to use Donovan’s Happiness Runs in their new commercial?!)

(Photo: Bath Time for Harriet 3 September 2006)

Uncategorized

Instant Review: Rough Science

Shelly

I don’t recall Rough Science running on our local PBS station. For shame! I got it through Netflix, and give it an enthusiastic Two Nerd Thumbs Up! I’m nearly finished with the third series, in which a group of scientists are dumped in New Zealand and challenged to find and smelt gold. Each half-hour episode covers a new aspect of the overall challenge. It is the perfect entertainment one of those days when you’re sick and stuck on the couch. It’s funny, geeky, and the challenges are difficult enough to hold your attention, but are still easy to follow if your brain is foggy.

Next up is Everything is Illuminated or some more Little House (I’m nearly finished with season six).

Crankypantsing, News & Politics

Instant Review: The Plague

Shelly

Students are back, and with them, all manner of disease and pestilence. I’ve managed to pick up something horrid, and it has taken up residence in my lungs. We are not amused. I suspect I caught it from someone at work, actually. On Friday, one of my coworkers was coughing and sneezing and generally sounding like she might expire at any moment. I assumed it was just allergies (tis the season!), but I have a feeling it was something more sinister. Normally, I wouldn’t be so cranky about it. It’s not her fault she’s sick. However, someone on our floor is going through cancer treatment, and we are under strict orders not to come to work sick, so that we don’t pass anything on to her. With her immune system compromised, it wouldn’t take much to make her very, very sick.

So, now my head feels like it’s about to implode and I’ve got some sort of crud in my lungs. I’m taking guaifenesin and drinking lots of water, like ya’ do, but sheesh! I want it gone NOW, please.

Speaking of the plague, I read that our president, in addition to presidentin’ and vacationatin’, has started reading books. Apparently, he was caught red-handed with a copy of Camus’ The Stranger. Now, I don’t know what someone who has systematically made fun of “educated folks” is doing reading books, but, if it’s true, I’m a little impressed. I mean, this is the guy who can’t even be bothered to read a newspaper!

Uncategorized

And then there were eight

Shelly

First Views of Pluto
Pluto and Charon
Credit: NASA on The Commons

The International Astronomical Union has demoted Pluto to “dwarf planet,” leaving the solar system with only eight “classical” planets. There are now three categories of objects in our solar system: Planets, Dwarf planets, and the not so very poetic Small Solar System Bodies. The last seems to be a catch-all for everything that is not the Sun and does not fit in either of the first two categories.

Art

Ugly Ducklings

Shelly

I don’t know if it’s true for everyone, but it seems like all of my paintings go through an ugly duckling phase. Some ducklings are uglier than others, and some paintings have multiple ducklings, but at some point in the process of every piece, I want to burn it, tear it into tiny pieces, or paint over it. I had a couple of those moments last night, while working on the new painting (I think it’s a painting, anyway). Hopefully, it’ll look better in the light of day.

I started this one in acrylic, which is something I don’t usually do. I’ve added a few layers of water-soluble crayon, and smooshed things around and generally done everything I could to get my hands filthy dirty. That’s one thing I do like about acrylics, is that I can get my hands into the paint. That’s not a good idea with oils, because some of the pigments contain lead, which is absorbed through the skin. The down-side of finger painting with acrylics is that the polymer creates a skin on your, um, skin, and as each layer of paint dries and is covered by more paint, it starts to tighten and peel and, I think, feel extremely yucky. I have to stop periodically and remove all the paint from my palms and fingers, because it grosses me out.

Spring Peeper (USGS photo)
Spring Peeper from USGS

I woke up this morning to find a Peeper frog on my kitchen window. They are just about the cutest things ever. Seriously. It was incredibly cool to be able to see his little white belly and his itty bitty suction cup feets. I tried to get pictures, but I don’t think they turned out. (There is a sound file available from the Indiana DNR. Imagine being surrounded by zillions of peeping Peepers, and you’ll have some idea of what early spring in the woods sounds like.)

Art, Crankypantsing, Photography

Bad Advertising, FedEx Sucks, and Arting Update

Shelly

Baby

You know that Progressive insurance commercial, that asks “If we’re this helpful while you’re shopping for insurance, imagine how helpful we’ll be when you need us.” That makes absolutely no sense, so I call bullshit. Any company is going to do whatever they can to make themselves look good to prospective customers. After they’ve hooked you, they don’t have much incentive to go out of their way to be helpful.

And while I’m being cranky, FedEx has climbed to the top of my corporate shit list. I ordered something on August 1. It was supposedly shipped on August 2. After a few days, I checked the tracking info, and found that the package had been placed on the truck, then apparently it warped into an alternate dimension. I figured it would show up eventually, and forgot about it. A couple of days ago, I received a postcard from FedEx–dated August 8!–stating that they needed additional delivery directions. Now, first, it took them a week to figure out they couldn’t find my place? I don’t think so. Second, why on earth did it take two weeks for the stupid postcard to get to me? That part of the problem may be the fault of the USPS. Delivery around these parts has gotten a bit random lately. However, FedEx should have provided better tracking info, and they should have informed me sooner that there was an issue. (And, no, they didn’t try to call, even though they had my phone number. If they had, it would’ve shown up on my caller ID. Hrmf!)

So, I called FedEx, as the postcard directed, and was told that the package has been returned to the vendor. I am not amused.

Now for an arting update: I’m working on a large-ish painting/assemblage something-or-other, using a wood panel as a support. I haven’t worked much on wood, so this should be entertaining. Whether that’s entertaining in the fun sense, or in the train-wreck sense, remains to be seen. If I don’t mention it again, you’ll know it did not end well.

In Art porn news, the new Dick Blick uber-catalog came today. Two copies of it, in fact, though one of them was, for some inexplicable reason, placed in my neighbor’s mailbox. I’d really like to know what the new mailwoman is smoking and/or drinking. I’ve taken to checking all three mailboxes, because my mail is regularly strewn between them. Serenity now!

(Photo: Baby circa 1920, another “yard sale box-o-junk” find)

Crankypantsing

Instant Review: Plague of Locusts

Shelly

Well, not locusts, exactly, but it is rather plague-like. The students have returned, and the Powers That Be have decided to extend move-in from one day to an entire week. Oh joy! When it was limited to one day, traffic was ungodly awful, but because it was only one day, it was easy to rearrange my schedule so that I was not near campus. Now, that’s not possible. On top of that, no one seems to have even a basic understanding of how stop signs work, and all along Jordan, 10th, and Fee, pedestrians just wander into the street whenever they feel like it. Dumbasses!

Oh, and to make things more exciting, some of the roads that were recently repaved have not yet been painted. It’s all sorts of fun to watch out-of-towners trying to navigate the unmarked streets, since they don’t know where the turn lanes are supposed to be, or even if there are turn lanes. Hello Dude in the White Suburban! Could you please scoot over a few inches, so that I don’t have to wait through three lights for you to get a chance to turn left? I’m sure the other 87 cars behind me–all of which also want to go straight–would appreciate it, too.

Pets, Photography

Pandora

Shelly

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Pandora will be 18 this spring. That’s apparently the equivalent of 78 human years. She’s starting to show her age, too. She can’t jump as well as she used to. She doesn’t understand why, though, so she keeps trying to launch herself onto the kitchen counter. I’ve placed “steps” at strategic points around the house, to make it easier for her to reach her favorite spots. She doesn’t always use them, though. I wince every time I hear her fall, but I can’t make her stop trying to climb. She’s always been a climber. When she was younger, she would’ve swung from the chandelier if I’d had one. I’ve found her on top of the fridge, above the false ceiling, on top of floor lamps, bookcases, and cupboards. I’ve even seen her walk the shower curtain rod, like it was a tightrope. I think she might’ve climbed Everest if she’d known it existed.

She’s also getting clumsy. Wherever she goes, she knocks things over. Not a night goes by that I don’t wake up to the sound of something or other crashing to the floor, a victim of Pandora’s late night wanderings. It’s exasperating, but what do you do? Pick up the mess and try not to think about it, I guess. The bigger problem is that her clumsiness makes it more difficult for her to get out from underfoot. She also cannot react as quickly as she used to. I’m worried that I’m going to step on her one of these days, because she’s constantly underfoot. I’ve taken to picking her up and placing her in a safe place, to keep her out of harm’s way.

She also sleeps a lot more now. Not that it’s easy to notice when a cat is sleeping more, but she does, and more heavily, too. She’s got a new favorite sun spot, and spends most of the day basking there. She often rolls over on her side, with one or more paws up in the air. Of course, it’s impossible to resist taking a picture when that happens.

And, yes, her fur is just as soft and silky as it looks.