Author: Shelly

Pets, Photography

Harriet Brown

Shelly

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One of Harriet’s favorite ways to pass the time is to sit and look out the front door. She’s incredibly nosy and loves to watch the neighbors come and go. There’s quite a bit of wildlife here, too, to keep her entertained: bunnies, lizards, birds, moths, and butterflies, etc.

This is an older photo I took with my Canon 35mm. I love the richness and depth I get from that camera–it’s far better than my digital. The digital camera is handy, but it just can’t take pictures like this one.

She’s been funny about using the yard lately. Without Elliott here to egg her on, she doesn’t seem very interested in exploring. She spent some time this morning, though, nosing around the perimeter and digging for moles. Then, she had a quick roll in a pile of grass clippings. She’s never been interested in rolling in gross stuff, but for some reason, she likes to roll in mown grass. I don’t mind, because it makes her smell like fresh hay. Plus, I love watching her wallow around with her feet in the air–it’s painfully cute.

When she was finished with her grass bath, she sunbathed for awhile on the porch, then stalked a blue tailed skink. The little lizard drives her to distraction. She wants to catch him in the worst way, but he’s too quick for her. After an hour or so of stalking, she finally got so frustrated that she had a melt down. It was hilarious to watch, because she suddenly got thoroughly disgusted and started howling, snorting, and stomping her feet. For all the world, it was like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

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News & Politics

Bush’s Response is Unacceptable

Shelly

First of all this, illustrating the spectacular disconnect between what witnesses and reporters are saying about Katrina’s aftermath and what federal officials are saying. It’s no wonder, as the director of FEMA is woefully unqualified to do his job. According to a commenter at Horsesass.org (sorry, no permalink), Brown couldn’t even manage the International Arabian Horse Association without running it into the ground and being sued. And this guy is in charge of orchestrating disaster relief for the nation?

Bush, for his part, has finally gotten around to noticing that a big chunk of the US gulf region has slid into the ocean, and he’s a little cranky about it. You can’t really blame him, though. After all, the last couple days of his vacation were interrupted. How rude! I bet you’ll never guess where he was, either. He was in California, speechifying to sailors about V-J Day. Yep. While people were dying in the US gulf region, the president was politicking about the war in the Persian Gulf–the same war that is responsible for funneling necessary funds away from levee building projects in New Orleans; the same war that is responsible for many of our National Guard troops being overseas.

Then, at a Mobile, Alabama press conference, Bush, in his characteristically inept way, made light of the situation (from Whitehouse.gov):

“We’ve got a lot of rebuilding to do. First, we’re going to save lives and stabilize the situation. And then we’re going to help these communities rebuild. The good news is — and it’s hard for some to see it now — that out of this chaos is going to come a fantastic Gulf Coast, like it was before. Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott’s house — he’s lost his entire house — there’s going to be a fantastic house. And I’m looking forward to sitting on the porch. (Laughter.)”

I’m just guessing, but I expect the dead and dying, and the folks who haven’t had food or fresh water in days, and the people who live paycheck-to-paycheck and are without money or shelter or the prospect of such anytime soon, aren’t particularly comforted by his words. In fact, if I were one of them, I think I’d probably feel like projectile vomiting on him.

Uncategorized

What to Do

Shelly

Hurricane Katrina has destroyed thousands of lives. Together, the liberal blogosphere is raising money for the Red Cross fund for food, water, shelter, and transportation out of the Hurricane Zone.

Please donate now.

If you don’t know how to decide where to donate money for Katrina relief, you can go to Give.org. The obvious option seems to be the American Red Cross (or call 1-800-HELP-NOW). Or, you can donate to the American Red Cross via the Liberal Blogosphere for Hurricane Relief drive (click on the ad).

Addendum: Also, Oxfam or Second Harvest. Be patient, as some of the above websites might load slowly due to increased traffic.

Some folks are recommending the donation of a day’s wages as a rule of thumb. If you can’t do that, then anything is better than nothing. If nothing else, dig the change out of your sofa or raid your penny jar (everyone has a penny jar, right?). Most towns have local branches of the American Red Cross that will take such donations in person, so you don’t even need to have a credit card or even a checking account.

I haven’t had a chance to see what’s being shown on network news, but from what I’ve heard on the radio and seen online, it’s bad. BAD. Rescue workers cannot get to the people who need help, because armed looters are shooting at them. People who were lucky enough to get to a relatively safe place to sit out the hurricane are now trapped. They’re without food or water in an area that is oppressively hot and humid. The living are confined with the dead and dying, surrounded by sewage- and chemical-laden water. The risk of disease and infection is huge. According to one report I read, even minor scratches and abrasions are likely to become septic in that environment.

I’m horrified at the physical state of things, but I’m even more disturbed at the lack of help the survivors are receiving. I don’t think people really understand that we live mostly on an honor system. We expect people to behave in a certain way, and generally they do. It doesn’t take much external pressure to upset that balance, though, and when that happens, we do not have (and cannot hope to have) the physical resources to ensure that people are kept safe from each other. So much for Homeland Security, eh?

Photography

Cloudbursting

Shelly

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I did a little storm watching last weekend. Late Saturday afternoon, a small but impressive front moved through, complete with a cloudburst. We got about 4.5 inches of rain within 30 minutes. If you go to the link, the first few images are of the western sky, as the front moved in. Then, there are a couple of photos of water in a tub I’d left on my front porch, followed by some pictures taken toward the east, after the front had past. The last five images are of the fog descending at sunset. The entire western sky was on fire, but it had faded considerably in the time it took me to grab my camera and go outside. It was still lovely, though, and a little creepy to watch the fog devour the electrical pylon across from me.

For comparison, we had nearly 24 hours of solid rain when Katrina passed over us. In that amount of time, my trusty little tub only accumulated 5 inches of rain.

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Altered Books, Art, Drawings, Pets

Pencil Study

Shelly

Harriet's Paw

I haven’t been motivated to do very much today, so I decided to watch a DVD and sketch. Harriet joined me on the couch, and was obliging enough to let me draw her paw (front left).

Dogs are sometimes a little funny about being closely scrutinized. Usually, after a few minutes of being stared at, Harriet gives me a disgusted look and hies herself to her crate in the bedroom. This time, she was quite cooperative. However, I’m a slow worker (this drawing took about 15 minutes), and this was the last of five studies, so she was getting a little rebellious toward the end.

I find Boxers nice to draw because they’re so sleek and lean. The tendons and muscle definition are obvious because there is no coat to hide them. They also have prominent veins in their legs. I think they look a bit like race horses, in that respect.

Art, Crankypantsing, Journals, Ladybusiness

A Public Service Announcement

Shelly

Here’s some friendly advice. When you apply for a job, read the ad carefully. If the ad specifies that the applicant must be detail oriented, read it twice. Because if you don’t, you might miss such subtleties as “for application, e-mail xxxx@yyyyy.zzz.” What that means is, do not call me to ask how to apply. Do not drop by to ask for an application. Basically, do not make my life any more complicated than it already is. An applicant who calls me twice, then drops by, is not going to be very high on my list of People I Just Have to Hire. An applicant who calls me twice, then drops by and proceeds to preemptively flood me with the answer to every conceivable interview question, after being told “Thank you, I’ll be contacting people this afternoon to set up interviews,” is not going to be anywhere on my list of People I Just Have to Hire. I don’t care how qualified you are for the job, you aren’t getting it because you cannot listen and are incapable of following directions. Those are Very Important job skills and their lack makes you ineligible to work for me.

On the other hand (lest you think I’m the world’s meanest jerkface), I don’t care if you’re late for work–or how often you’re late–as long as you make up the time. I’m not going to ask you for a doctor’s note every time you call in sick. You’re welcome to arrange your schedule to suit yourself, and to rearrange it whenever the fancy strikes you. I don’t care how you dress. I don’t care if you listen to music while working, or what sort of music you listen to. As long as you do your work well, I really don’t care what else you do or don’t do. Just don’t make my life difficult.

My journal entry from whence yesterday’s blathering originated:

Hemp Bound Journal: Speak Up
Speak Up
8 3/4 x 11 3/8 inches

I’d like to invite comments on the following scenario. Suppose Person A calls Person B a slur (choose your own, but in this case, the word cunt has repeatedly been lobbed about). Person B responds that Person A is a misogynist. Person C claims that Person A’s and Person B’s actions are equivalent–in other words, they both called each other names, so they’re even. What, if any, difference is there between Person A’s and Person B’s actions?

Addendum: Furthermore, does calling Person A a misogynist make Person B a cunt, even if she wasn’t before? And, does the sex (or race, if you substitute a racial slur) of Persons A, B, or C make a difference?

Thank you, audience, for playing along at home.

Crankypantsing, Pets

Three Things

Shelly

First, I noticed yesterday that Roz Stendahl has some new journals posted to her website. I spent some time yesterday looking through them, and recommend that y’all do so, too. They’re truly wonderful.

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Second, Rory is back from the vet. Two nights of hospitalization, catheterization, meds, etc. cost US$322. Two techs brought him out in his carrier, soaked in urine, with a kennel lead wrapped around him. Apparently they couldn’t get it off him, which is understandable. He’s semi-feral and freaked out by strangers. Still, they’re professionals and I don’t think it’s too much to ask for them to be able to handle one cat, no matter how badly he’s behaving. More disturbing is that I was unable to actually talk to the vet. I was given my cat and his meds and sent home. That’s the final straw. As soon as he’s through with this course of antibiotics, I’m taking him on well visits to try on a couple of other vets. There have got to be better diagnosticians out there or, at least, a vet who will actually communicate with owners.

Third, I really (really!) hate it when people tell me how to think, feel, or behave. Aside from inciting an initial “you’re not the boss of me” reaction (and, seriously, they aren’t and it’s damned silly for them to delude themselves into thinking they are), it’s spectacularly rude. It’s no way to treat a child, adult, or barnyard animal. It’s controlling, condescending, placating, dehumanizing, and just plain offensive. The subtext is that you’re overreacting and that your response has no merit. In essence, you do not matter. You are nothing. You have no right to have feelings. You are denied a voice.

Inherently, I believe it is also an act of violence. Your voice is the only thing in this world that is entirely your own. When someone takes that away from you, you cease to exist. People fight wars over this sort of thing, so why is it so difficult for some folks to understand that it matters?

Art

And Now For Something Completely Different…

Shelly

Nick Cave
Nick Cave, edition 4/10, 1987

Have I mentioned that I think Nick Cave is some sort of deity? Well, I do. And, apparently, I did.

In an effort to procrastinate and waste time, I spent Sunday evening going though the contents of a box of junk I’ve been carting around for years. I found a bunch of old sketchbooks, journals, and class notes from high school (that was a riot in itself). I also found evidence of my one and only foray into the world of linocuts.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my heart belonged to Mr. Cave even in those days. The print is undated, but I must have done it in 1986/7. Go ahead and laugh, I am! I was such a little Goth Girl, only back then, we called it Death Rock. Cuz, you know, rocks are, um, dead. Or something.

Anyway…

I know I took a quarter of “printmaking” in high school, but for the life of me, I can’t remember doing anything except this pitiful little linocut. We were supposed to do woodcut, linocut, and serigraphy. I still have the extremely cool (and worn full of holes) shirt that Jayne silkscreened for that class, but I didn’t get much accomplished that quarter. By golly, though, I’ve got Nick, and that’s what counts, right?

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

They Come in Threes

Shelly

Rory

Some old wife once said that bad things happen in threes. I certainly hope she’s correct, because I’m about fed up. First, Elliott, then, the MoonPie of Delight, now Rory. Thankfully, Rory’s situation isn’t immediately life-threatening.

Yesterday morning, he seemed to be suffering from another blockage. Over the past few years, he’s had recurring problems with struvite crystals, so I watch him carefully. This time, he came to me and squatted next to my foot. “See, I’m trying to pee!” Bless his little heart. So off to the vet he went. They’re keeping him for catheterization and observation for two nights, which is okay, but I’m a little perturbed at their lack of communication skills.

I called them yesterday afternoon. The vet had already gone for the day, and the office person couldn’t find any information for me. Keeping and consulting patient charts should be pretty standard, right? Then, this morning, I ran into the same problem. All I could get out of the technician was that Rory had been catheterized. She didn’t know when I could pick him up, but took my number and said she’d catch the doctor after his next patient and call me back. Two hours later–tired of waiting–I called back again, and she still didn’t have info for me. This time, at least, she went to find the doctor. They want to keep him another night.

Okaythen.

Why on earth couldn’t that information have been in his chart, so that when I called yesterday, I could be told what was going on?

I think it’s time to find a new (um, better) vet. First, I’m not comfortable with their diagnostic skills. They’re semi-emergency vets (strictly walk-in with good evening hours), which is nice, but their prices are ungodly and, at this point, I’m not inclined to trust them with unknown quantities. As soon as Rory is feeling better, I’m going to try to get him into another vet for a well visit. Or, maybe I’ll use Harriet as my guinea pig. I really hate to do that to her, though, because she’s so damned tweaky about strangers. She actually likes her current vets, which is why I’ve stuck with them, despite the fact that I always feel like I’ve only got about 1/4 of their attention when I’m dealing with them.

Oh, and to make things even more exciting, Rory absolutely and completely refuses to eat Hills C/D (crystal diet). He’s not otherwise a picky eater, but he won’t touch even canned C/D. If there’s so much as a molecule of it mixed into another food, he won’t touch it. As far as he’s concerned, it’s poison. At one point, he lost half of his body weight and started to go into organ failure because he wouldn’t eat it. So, it’s not like he’s just being bratty and waiting him out is an option. I finally had to water down the canned and force feed it to him, which is reasonable in the short term but is notnotnot a long-term solution.