I brought cucumber chunks for my mid-morning snack. As I was peeling, coring, and chunking away, Harriet sat intently at my feet, twin slingers spouting from each side of her mouth. The damned dog was drooling for cucumbers.
Author: Shelly
Lightning
I was kind of bummed because I hadn’t gotten pictures of the lightning show last night. I tried taking a few, but I assumed they weren’t turning out, so I gave up. Now I’m really kicking myself. This one isn’t great, but I expect I could’ve gotten some decent shots if I’d stuck with it. Hrmph.
You can’t really tell it from this photo, but it does hint at the mammatus clouds that formed on the back side of the storm. Every time a sustained bolt of lightning lit up the interior of the cell, the mammatus formations would glow. It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.
There are some gorgeous (and creepy!) examples of mammatus formations here and here and here. The last page is especially impressive. I’d probably pee my pants if I saw something like that in the sky.
Why I’m Not a Joiner
A couple of years ago, I joined a Yahoo group for gluebooks. For those who don’t know what gluebooks are, they’re journals or artist books full of collage. The group started out as a low-key, fun bunch of people. Then, the moderator started getting cranky with lack of participation by lurkers.
I wasn’t a frequent participant, but I had been attempting to post at a frequency that was well within her guidelines. I say “attempting,” because she kept blocking my posts. On topic, perfectly civil and supportive posts, I might add. Hrmph. I sent her an e-mail, explaining that it was kinda hard for me to participate if half my messages were getting nuked. I never heard back from her.
About a month later, she went on another bender, this time stating that those who weren’t participating enough (like me) would be unsubscribed from the group. M’kaythen. I e-mailed her again, and again, was ignored.
Then, the kicker: she used one of my images for the group’s home page, but credited it to someone else. I e-mailed her to tell her that she’d mis-credited it. No biggie. It has happened on every art-related group I’ve ever belonged to. Normal, accepted practice is for the moderator to fix the problem and send a correction message to the group. Not this time, though. Nope. Instead of the usual week that images were left on that group’s home page, mine was yanked down that same day with no correction, no “oops” message to the group, and no explanation. What the fuck?!
At that point, I unsubscribed from the group. I’d heard enough about the moderator’s shitty behavior from others, that I decided it wasn’t worth it.
That’s all ancient history, but it explains why, when I recently ran across a gluebooks “lens” she’d created on Squidoo, I was gobsmacked to find that the Flickr snapshot was composed entirely of my artwork. HAW!
Free Whores
Via Feministing, a letter from Republican Rep. Cynthia Davis on how only sluts use contraceptive. Obviously, that’s all sorts of wrong for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that her underlying premise–that single women who have sex are whores–sucks. But, what made me choke on my PB&J was this gem:
When I was listening to the debate last week I wondered what kind of man would want to enjoy free sex and then expect her to provide for her own contraceptives? These are the kind of men who want free whores. Any man who would be so low life as that does not deserve to have any woman love him. Smart women will stay away from men who use them and abuse them.
What on earth does that mean? Seriously. Does she not realize that married women, too, are generally left with the responsibility of providing contraception? That’s an awfully broad brush she’s wielding. And, what exactly is a free whore, anyway?
And then there’s her baffling statement that state provided birth control for single women will increase the birth rate. WTF? Yes, I realize that it’s incredibly immoral to be poor. I also realize that poor folks should be punished for their transgressions. And I also, too, double-plus-as-well realize that single women who have sex should be pilloried in the town square. After all, they’re whores, right? Um, no, they’re not. They’re human beings who have every bit as much right to have access to physical intimacy and decent health care as do UberMoral Rich Folks.
The answer is not to take away access to abortion, and then to take away access to the means to keep from becoming pregnant. Good grief! No, if people like Cynthia Davis actually cared about women and children and all that “family values” stuff that they like to rabbit on and on and on about, then they’d be looking for solutions that
- Provide for the care of the people who are already here. That means none of that ridiculous “poor mothers don’t deserve welfare” crap. Of course they deserve welfare, and so do their kids. You can’t help people to become contributing members of society by taking away their access to adequate schooling, health care, nutrition, housing, etc.
- They’d trust women to make their own choices about whether or not they want to become pregnant. Period. That means access to birth control and to abortions. Because, if you can’t trust a woman to make those sorts of decisions, you certainly can’t trust her to raise a child./li>
The entire letter can be found here. But, I warn ya’, it ain’t pretty. Aside from the hemorrhaging from her logic centers, the woman obviously did not learn grammar from Sister Dominica.
Auntie Em! Auntie Em!
We had the mother of all storms last night. Quite possibly the Auntie and Uncle, too. There was a severe thunderstorm warning and a tornado watch for our area, so I was expecting something gross to creep in, but I was unprepared for how bad it would be. At about 6:30, I went outside with the dog. I stood on the porch while she motored around the yard, and watched the puffy white clouds to the south. They were big and billowy and not at all harmful looking. Besides, they were moving away from me.
Then, I turned around to go back inside. (Cue the Eeevil Emperor’s theme song from Star Wars.) The shelf cloud (which looked not entirely unlike this) of the oncoming storm had crept up from the north and was silently advancing. Sweet fancy Jeebus! The wind had been howling, but it suddenly got very quiet. I ran inside, put on my shoes, and drove next door. Far better to be sucked up in a tornado if you have company, right?
So, I cut out UPC codes from bags of dog and cat food for my neighbor while we watched teevee. By the time Jeopardy was over, the worst of the storm had passed. It was super slow moving, though. I’ve never seen a storm creep along that slowly. Or move in such an odd direction. It came in from due north, and exited to due east. Very weird!
Anyway, we didn’t get a tornado. We did get front row seats to one of the most spectacular light shows EVAR, though. There were some ground strikes, but most of it was cloud-to-cloud. The latter were gorgeous. Portions of the clouds would glow red, yellow, blue, or green. There were also quite a few pulsing zaps of lightning that would dart around the cloud, like little tadpoles in water.
Some of the larger, more prolonged lightning strikes illuminated the mammatus clouds on the back side of the storm. I wish it had been light out, because I would’ve liked to’ve photographed them.
The show lasted over three hours. When I went to bed at 11pm, I could still see a thin band of clouds on the eastern horizon, lit up with pops and crackles of lightning.
Progress Report: Letters to Esther
More progress! I spent the last couple hours installing WordPress on the Esther sub-domain. Actually, it took about two minutes to install. The rest of the time was spent in my other favorite pastime–not!–template tweaking. It’s done, though. I’ll post there whenever I upload new files or add substantially to existing ones. That way, those following along won’t have to try to keep track of what’s new and what’s not.
Good lord, could it get any more windy? Seriously. And we’re under a tornado watch until 10pm. I really am not amused. I really, really don’t like Indiana weather. The winters aren’t cold enough and the summers–which apparently begin in March–are too hot and muggy. O ick. It’s 85F inside right now, which is way too warm, but I’d feel like a total wimp if I turned on the AC, onna counta it’s March! Hrmph.
But the good news is that the Almond Dishmate Fairy visited in the wee hours, placing a bottle of dish detergent–the good stuff from the co-op that doesn’t leave a gross residue on dishes–on the driver’s seat of my car[1]. Thank you, Ms. Lea! I think part of the reason I kept forgetting to pick up dish soap was that I didn’t want to use any of the gross “ultra” varieties. They all stink to high heavens and no matter how thoroughly you rinse, there is still a residue that just won’t come off. It’s especially bad on plastics, because they absorb the chemical-y odor and taste.
_______________________________________
[1] Since graduating to a grown-up car, I no longer leave my keys sitting on the dashboard. I do, however, still leave the car unlocked when at home. I’m far enough off the road that no one is likely to bother it, and if they did, there’s not really anything useful in it. And, leaving it unlocked makes it much easier for folks to drop off things without having to stop if they don’t want to. Even the UPS guy seems to like this arrangement. He always leaves packages in my car if it’s home.
Google-y Fun
Gleaned from my various stats…
Animal related queries:
- how i could write a rough draft about a cat (There are days I’m glad I’m not back in high school. Can you imagine what sort of writer’s block someone must have if they’re reduced to Googling for this?)
- how to tell kittens apart (Apart from what? Dogs? Meatloaf? Hiking boots?)
- Who is the voice of the gecko in the Geico commercials? (Beats me, and I have no idea why Google sent you to me.)
- purple tongue cat dehydration (I sincerely hope they rushed the poor cat to the emergency vet, and that they were Googling as a post-visit, fact-gathering expedition, because those symptoms are seriously bad news.)
- purple tongue pit bull (If it’s all purple, it’s not a Pit Bull. Any breed can have black or purple spots on the tongue/mouth, but only a few have solid black/purple tongues. And if it’s purple from dehydration, GET THAT DOG TO THE VET NOW.)
- how do cats prints (I’m not even sure how to parse that.)
- perineal urethrostomy pu surgery and cost (I get this basic query at least once a week. The surgery itself was around US$400, if I recall correctly. I mention it only because it seems to be something people go Googling for. But surely, asking one’s vet would be the most expedient and accurate way to find out what it’s going to cost you?)
- mayan stingray piercing penis (Stingrays have ethnicity? Who knew? And, what, exactly, is a stingray piercing penis? Actually, I don’t think I want to know.)
Non-animal queries:
- edward kienholz the cost (If you have to ask… Though, he’s on the wrong side of grass these days, so I don’t know why anyone would want to purchase him.)
- things with three (Just any old things?)
- why do shamans wear masks (42)
- shape line color texture value of olmec head (Is that value in the monetary sense, or in the design sense? If the former, priceless; if the latter, they’re sculptures, so it doesn’t really apply.)
- opposition to civil works administration cwa
- aztec art monte alban skeletal head
- which new deal agency hired artists to paint murals in public buildings
- vision after the sermon iconography gauguin (Unfortunately, the paper in question was about Manao Tupapau, not Vision After the Sermon.)
Okaythen.
Rural Road Warriors
Why, oh why, do I attract reckless drivers like a Chow attracts cockleburrs? I had two young guys in a Camaro attached to my rear bumper, until they decided–not to merely pass me. Oh no, that would’ve been too civilized–but to instead, wait until I stopped at an intersection to make a left-hand turn. Before I could negotiate said turn, however, they zipped around my left side, so that they could turn in front of me. Sweet fancy Jesus! It’s not like I was poking along, either. I was going 45mph in a 35mph zone, which is plenty fast, I think. They needed to be going even faster, I guess, because they zoomed off at an insane rate of speed.
Then, as I was going through Miller’s Flats (a stretch of straight two-lane highway, speed limit 55mph), I had an Explorer in front of me and a string of cars behind me, headed by a truck with dualies. We were going 65mph, which is plenty fast for that area, as it’s really windy and the road has some weird dippy bits it that want to toss you off into the ditch. Anyway, 65mph was not fast enough for Mr. Dualies, so he passed me. Only, he misjudged the on-coming traffic, and I had to slow down so that he could get around me in time. Then, he did the exact same thing to the Explorer in front of him. So, he made two cars slam on their brakes, put people’s lives at risk, and ultimately slowed down a long line of traffic, just because he had to be in front. And here’s the kicker–he didn’t go any faster than the Explorer had been going! He just wanted to be at the head of the line, I guess. Fuckwit.
I think people should be able to explore their own death wishes, an’ all, but I wish they would disinvite me from the festivities.
Look Away!
Surely y’all’ve seen this. It seems to be everywhere, but just in case you’ve managed to miss it, I’ll share. I wouldn’t want you to be left out, dontchaknow. Really. It’s for your own good. You’ll be a better person for having gazed upon its WTF-ness, in the sense that what doesn’t kill you is bound to make you stronger. Or is that stranger? Anyway…
Britney Spears, 2006, by Daniel Edwards
Britney Spears is now the poster child for the anti-abortion movement. Yea, verily, it is true. What cracks me up–well, one of the things that cracks me up–is that Her Britness had a planned C-section. Apparently because she didn’t think she could deal with the pain of childbirth. I read it in Us Magazine, so it must be true. In any event, I’m pretty sure that no woman has ever, in the history humankind, looked like that while giving birth. That is some seriously fucked up, pornographic view of The Miracle of Life, lemme tell ya’.
Old Boy
I was stuck at home today, onna counta my car needed some TLC. The engine was making an odd ticking noise this morning. Boys and Girls, lemme just tell you that it’s probably a good idea to get your oil changed more frequently than every 10,000 miles. I’m just sayin’…
Anyway, because I was waiting on the mechanic to call me back, I couldn’t even play on-line. I had a pile o’ Netflix, though, so I entertained myself by watching fil-ums.
Instant Review: Old Boy
Wow!
First, the default setting was for dubbed audio, so make sure you change it to Korean with the appropriate subtitles. Second, there is a good bit of gratuitous violence, but it was the slow, prolonged gross bits that squicked me out. If watching people having their teeth pulled with a claw hammer makes you feel a little ill, I recommend looking away. (Oh, hey, I think I have to pet the dog rightthisveryminute.) Thankfully, those scenes are set up in such a way that it is easy to anticipate and avoid them.
The basic story line involves kidnapping, imprisonment, Revenge-with-a-capital-R, and all manner of things that would be right at home in something wrought by Aeschylus or Euripides. But the story was not merely lifted from a Greek drama. It’s full of inventive twists and turns and back-trackings, so that, while you may identify the lynch-pin before it comes into view, you aren’t disappointed by having figured it out. There are still plenty of WTF moments to keep your internal “I knew that” voice quiet.
Rating: * * * * *
Instant Review: House
Dear lord, where to begin? I have no idea what the hell I was thinking when I put this movie in my Netflix queueueueueue. I’m sure I thought it’d be good for a laugh, but it was all around pretty horrific, and not in a good way. The cast included (and no, I am not making this up):
- The Greatest American Hero / Paul Drake from 1980s vintage Perry Mason
- Bull from Night Court
- Bubba from In the Heat of the Night
- Norm from Cheers
Are you scared, yet? Cuz, you really should be.
I won’t bother to describe the horribleness of the plot, the special effects, the acting, or the writing. Let’s just say that it’s quite possibly one of the worst movies I’ve watched in my entire life, m’kay? I ought to be embarrassed to admit that I saw it, but in my defense, I’ll just state that I was working on the computer while the movie was playing, so it’s not like I actually sat down and watched it. About the only good thing I can say about it is that it was mercifully short and it came from Netflix, so it was almost like free.
Rating: * * * * * (It gets one star just for the sheer absurdity of THAT CAST.)
In other news, I finally managed to make a poached egg without burning myself. Oh joy.
I also filled in a huge amount of genealogical data for Esther. I’ve got most of her ahnentafel finished through the 6th generation, with surprisingly few gaps. I found that she was descended from a niece of John Morton. I don’t think that’s particularly surprising, though, as anyone who can trace their family back that far is likely to be descended from Somebody. I haven’t really started on the 7th generation, and I don’t know if I will, as that will require identifying eleventy-six people, which seems like a humense amount of work.
I will say that the LDS databases are truly wondrous, though. Just be careful, as a lot of the info is not even a little bit accurate. If you have access to a library with a gov docs department, and you are interested in genealogy, you might consider volunteering to transcribe census data. The ultimate goal is to get that data on-line so that it can be accessible. As it stands now, the on-line availability of census data is spotty at best, which means that anyone doing serious research (as opposed to my strictly non-serious research) will likely have to travel in order to view those records. Travel = Bad! Sitting on butt in front of computer = Good!
And, my apologies for boring everyone with the Esther-talk, but that’s where my OCD Bliss is taking me these days.
