I and a bunch of other folks were at Ms. Lea’s last weekend, helping her pack up her life. She’s not finished, but we made a pretty impressive dent. It was hard work, but lots of breaks and giggle fests helped make the time go quickly and enjoyably. Who knew packing other people’s stuff could be so entertaining?
So, I thought I’d share more cats, in order to brighten an otherwise hideously dreary day.
Also,
I think anyone with half a brain stem and a functioning logic lobe knows that our Chimperor is a big, fat liar. However, it somehow manages to boggle my mind that he would actually come right out and admit it. At the recent presidential press conference, though, he did just that.
When asked why, only last week, he’d claimed that Rumsfeld would not be resigning, Bush answered:
Right. No, you and Hunt and Keil came in the Oval Office, and Hunt asked me the question one week before the campaign, and basically it was, are you going to do something about Rumsfeld and the Vice President? And my answer was, they’re going to stay on. And the reason why is I didn’t want to inject a major decision about this war in the final days of a campaign. And so the only way to answer that question and to get you on to another question was to give you that answer.
That’s right, folks. He just makes up shit when he wants people to get off his back or if he thinks it will negatively affect people’s opinions of his political party. Ironically, he later stated that he thought voters had elected Democrats because “People want their Congress — congressmen to be honest and ethical.” Gee, d’ya think? Also, he repeated an earlier assertion that “stay the course” does not, in fact, mean “stay the course.” Apparently, those three words mean something entirely different in Bush’s Bizarro World.
Just for what it’s worth, if you find that you are so sleep deprived that you can’t remember whether or not you really did just wash your hair, then you should probably just go back to bed. Trying to fight it will only end in tears. I think I washed it. I’d say I’m about, oh, 90% positive I did. But maybe I didn’t? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. I considered washing it again(?) to be on the safe side, but I was already late for work, so I decided to chance it.
Rumsfeld resigns. Finally.
Also, Britney ditches K-Fed. Good for her!
I think that about covers the important news of the day. As you were, Comrades!
There is a surprising amount of wildlife in my “backyard.” I know that most of the residents are normal city dwellers, but considering the high density of dogs and free roaming cats, I didn’t expect quite so many wild critters.
Mr. Groundhog seems to live underneath the sprawling bramble thicket on the western edge of the back field. He likes to come out in the late mornings and graze and sun himself. Miss Brown disapproves, of course. Mr. Groundhog couldn’t care less, it seems, because even though Harriet was whining and barking and boxing at the window, he carried on as if she didn’t exist. He’s a brazen little cuss.
I took this photo early this afternoon. Mr. Groundhog refused to oblige me with a head shot, so all you get to see is his lard ass, which is still pretty darned cute.
On the next move, do not lose the dog’s nail clippers. Also, her leash. Also, too, her rubber curry comb. I finally found the nail clippers this morning. I still haven’t found her leash, so I’ve been using Elliott’s old one. I have no idea where to even begin looking for her curry comb, though, and there’s really nothing that will substitute for it. Hrmf.
FYI, when it finally gets cold enough to well and truly frost, make sure the windshield wiper fluid in your car contains anti-freezy stuff. Otherwise, if you are lazy like me, and opt for washing away the frost layer instead of scraping it, you’ll end up with blue sno cone guts smeared all across your windshield. Which was totally not the effect I was going for.
Indiana has a rainy season. If you don’t live here, I bet you didn’t know that. Every fall, we seem to go through weeks-long spates of seemingly endless rain. It makes the baby Shelly cry, it does, all that unrelieved grey and cold and wet. Miss Brown does not like it, either. Nope, not one little bit.
Last week, it rained pretty much every day. Because Harriet will melt and freeze in the cold rain, she decided she’d rather not go outside to play. She spent one entire afternoon sitting on the couch, looking wistfully out the patio window at the constant drizzle. I was reminded of a bored and grumpy child, wishing the rain would end so she could go outside and play. After several loud, dramatic sighs from Harriet, I decided she needed to have her picture taken.
The subject of photography came up in another forum. I’m not any sort of photographer, but Harriet is an excellent subject, so it’s fairly easy to get decent pictures of her. Still, the majority of photos I take of her are not fit for public consumption. Sometimes, they’re just plain awful, and other times, the difference between a keeper and a junker is more subtle.
For example, I prefer the top photo over the second one. In the first photo, Harriet’s eyes are softer and more relaxed. Also, the photo was taken from a higher angle, so more of Harriet’s face is visible, giving her head more “weight” on the pillow.
This is an illustration of why flash sucks. Sure, Harriet’s butt is nice and shiny, but if you look carefully, you’ll see that the shadows between the different layers are stark and far too crisp. The result looks like a bunch of elements cut out of paper and stacked on top of each other. It’s a flat and ugly photo.
This one, too, was taken with flash, but the results are a little more pleasing than the above photo. Harriet still has Shiny Butt, but the shadows are less harsh.
So, in my world, only one of these images is a real keeper. Ain’t she the cutest thing EVAR?
If you are a fan of Firefox, version 2 is here. I downloaded it the day it came out and have been extremely happy with the updates. First and foremost, it has a new, elegant spell-checker for forms. This is important for blogging, because it allows you to spell-check as you go, instead of C&Ping text into a word processor or using a clunky interface like the one Blogger provides (ptoui!). Or, not spell-checking at all, which is what I normally do. My laziness knows no bounds, apparently.
Or, if you’re an Internet Explorer fan, the Maxthon add-on allows for all sorts of tweaks (including tabbed browsing!), in addition to making it more secure and private. I’ve been using it at work, and it’s pretty nice.
No new artwork, because my studio is still a gawdawful mess. I may actually have a chance to remedy that this weekend, but I wouldn’t recommend holding your breath or anything. I have, however, been hard at work, watching a ludicrous number of home improvement shows. HGTV and I are BFF, dontchaknow?
Anyway, something I’ve noticed, and that annoys the crap out of me, is the way folks paint. Now, we’re talking about interior house painting, not art painting, but the main principle is the same. Basically, what you see on most home improvement shows is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrongity, wrong-wrong. I had the fortune (or misfortune, depending on your perspective) of being taught how to paint by my ex-stepfather, who in turn learned to paint from his father. The family business was house painting and wall papering, so.
Not that I think this will actually be of help to anyone. I just thought I’d explain why home improvement shows–which I otherwise find irresistible–tend to make my hair hurt.
red paper boat 