Category: Crankypantsing

Crankypantsing, Meta

HTML HELL

Shelly

With the exception of Mr. and Mrs. B’s kick-ass Memorial Day on a Sunday party, I ended up spending the entirety of my mini-vacation working on the new website. Really. The Whole Thing. And, by “whole thing,” I mean 14 hours/day with very few breaks. I have two words to describe the experience: o ick. It’s tedious, nit-picky work. I’m pretty happy with the overall look and the layout, though. It’s visually crisp and simple.

I got to work early this ayem, so I spent some time cruising around, looking at other artists’ websites. What I saw made me glad that I listened to the Little Voice who told me to keep things minimal. She usually knows what she’s talking about. Most of the websites I looked at had a lot of visual junk going on, but most of it served no purpose but to clutter up the screen, eat bandwidth, and show off the author’s mAd c0d1nG Sk1LLz. Folks, just because you can doesn’t mean you should. And that goes double for anything–and I mean a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g–that blinks, bounces, rotates, or does any other sort of virtual calisthenics. Enough, already!

I also spent far too much time re-scanning and re-photographing images. That’s almost as tedious as coding, but the results are proving to be well worth the effort–especially for work with 3D elements that didn’t scan well. Having a serviceable digital camera has made life ever so much easier.

Another thing I’m discovering–and this comes as a surprise to me–is that I have a bit of a disconnect between visual and written expression. I don’t have any illusions about being the author of the next Great American Novel, but I’d like to think that I express myself fairly well with words. However, it’s becoming increasingly difficult for me to switch back and forth between expressing myself in words and in images. Why is this relevant? Well, I’ve been researching and writing copy to go with much of the artwork for the website. It shouldn’t be rocket science, but I’m finding that changing gears between thinking visually and expressing verbally is not as easy as it once was. So, it’s taking more time and effort than I had anticipated.

Anyway, I still have a metric butt load of work to do, but I’m hoping to get things running in the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, here’s the graphic I’ll be using on my main page. There are few things as beautiful as a contentedly sleeping cat.

Pandora
Pandora

Crankypantsing

Title o’ the Day

Shelly

Opinion on the proposal for a Council decision establishing a community action programme to promote active European citizenship (civic participation) and the communication from the Commission to the European Parliament and the Council on measures to be taken by member states to ensure participation of all citizens of the Union to the 2004 elections to the European Parliament in an enlarged Union.

Now doesn’t that sound like a barrel of laughs? Hello and welcome to my life. I know you’re all envious, aren’t you? In other news, the mosquito bites still itch like crazy, it’s still hot and humid, and the fountain machine at my favorite Big Foot is dispensing weak sodapepsicokepop. I’m trying to think of something positive about this day, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with anything–just more suckitude. Like, for instance, when I got to work this ayem, the custodians were busily (and noisily!) replacing all the fluorescent bulbs we’d asked them to remove. So, now I’m working under interrogation lights.

But, hey, it’s not all bad news. It’s once again safe to get your tits out. Praise be!

Crankypantsing, Meta

Monday Crankypantsing

Shelly

Apparently, my web host has been having techsicault diffnulties this afternoon. I’ve had trouble getting into various parts of my website (slooooooow and spotty outages), and haven’t been able to access my blog at all, not even the admin parts, all afternoon. It looks like it’s back up now, though. Hrmph.

While checking my error reports, I noticed that I had seriously fubarred the uploading of some of the thumbnail images for the blog, and, since I was wanting to break all the links between the blog and the old website anyway, I went ahead (before the crash) and redirected everything so that it points at the new gallery. I hope. If I’ve missed something, I’m sure it’ll show up in an error report, or just mention it in comments or email and I’ll fix it. As soon as I’m positive I’ve got all the files duplicated properly, and all the links redirected, and all the text info moved (haven’t even started on that, yet), I’ll nuke the old pages.

Happy damned Monday!

Crankypantsing, Meta

It’s Heeeeeeeeeere!

Shelly

I finally got the lion’s share of my website finished and updated. Whew! I think the worst of it was uploading everything. I couldn’t get my FTP program to talk nicely with my host’s system, so I ended up using their web-based FTP. Which only uploads five files at a time. Which was right some Jesus tedious. But it’s done, done, done.

There are a few finishing touches that need to be added and wrinkles that need to be ironed out, but it’s basically done and functional. I’ve got more composition book journal pages to add and I need to figure out why the text-only navigation links at the tops of all the pages aren’t displaying exactly alike. It’s not a big deal, but it’s one of those things that makes me go hmmm. I’ve tested everything in Firefox and IE, and will check them in Opera, too. I don’t have access to Netscape, though, so if any of y’all who use Netscape can test drive it, I’d appreciate it.

Edit: I figured out the problem with the text-only links–I missed uploading style sheets for them–and I’ve fixed it. A bigger issue is that I need to go in and make the full-size images open on top, instead of inside the lower frame. I meant to do that in the first place, but forgot. Blech. That means I’ll have to alter every single slide page, which should be, um, fun.

I’d guess that about half the content is new (or, new to the web). The old stuff has been rephotographed or scanned, so the images are much cleaner. There are a few pieces that need to be reshot, because there’s surface glare, but for the most part, all the images are in decent shape. I’m not normally a fan of frames, but this seemed a logical place to use them. On each gallery page, there are image thumbnails across the top of the page that link to frames that contain mid-sized images and, often, info about the piece. The mid-sized images (most are around 50K) link to big images (most range from 200-500K).

So, without further ado:

http://www.cat-sidh.net

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Letters to Esther Updates Forthcoming

Shelly

I have what may prove to be a really boring photo project planned for tomorrow. But! Because of the nature of the project, I should have time to finally (!) work on Letters to Esther. I’ve been neglecting it dreadfully and figured that if I voiced my plans out loud (um, in writing), I wouldn’t be able to back out of them.

In other, tangentially related news, I’m nearly finished with the art website. The package I bought had a ridiculous amount of space (five (5!!!) gigs), so I’ll have more than enough room to host Letters to Esther and its future, related art projects there, too. This has been an interesting project for me. The two halves of my brain just do not play well together, so the constant to-ing and fro-ing has been a challenge–a fun challenge, though.

Hmmm… What else…

  • The wind and storms have finally died down (thanks a lot, Arlene!), so we should have blue skies and warm-but-not-ungodly-hot temps for the next few days.
  • I kept forgetting to take my camera with me, so I missed my chance to take a picture of The Bust o’ Darth Vader perched atop the Burger King building. At one point, he was about 1/3 deflated, so he was half reclined, wielding–like a cop holding a billy club in one hand and thwacking it against the other–a similarly deflated light saber. In all, it was the worst Viagra ad, EVAR!1!! Alas, Mr. Vader was gone when I drove by this morning.
  • I had to stop at three–three!–Bigfoot/Circle K/BP/Macs (lord knows what they’ll be called next week) before I found one with a working pepsisodapopcoke fountain machine. And, no, I couldn’t just stop for a cold, caffeinated, carbonated beverage at any of the other 250 gas stations between my house and my workplace, because none of those other places has my favorite brand of crack–Go Ape Energy Drink. It’s red, it’s ubercaffeinated, it’s tart, it’s slightly bitter, and it’s fizzy. In short, it’s divine ambrosia.
  • Summer teevee sucks so badly that I’m counting the days until Big Brother starts. Yes, I know how sad and pathetic that is.
  • I’m sick to death of cataloging COR Opinions. Title o’ the Day: Opinion on the proposal for a directive of the European Parliament and of the Council concerning the quality of bathing water. Riveting stuff.
  • The last book for a round robin I’m participating in went AWOL. Hopefully it’ll turn up soon, but it should’ve been here three weeks ago. Mail out day was yesterday, so now its absence is cutting into the next person’s work time. There’s nothing I can do about it, though I can’t help but feel bad that someone’s book might have gotten terminally lost in the post. At this point, I’m just hoping the next one gets here before the its mail-out date.

    • Biteyface
    from 2000-ish

  • It was finally cool enough last night for some spectacular biteyface action. I was enjoying the show too much to go get the camera, so I didn’t get any pictures. It was really, really good, though–lots and lots of zooming, vaulting, rolling, and dragging each other around by the face. Oh, and the faux snarling and growling. Mustn’t forget that. It sounded like a pack of rabid hyenas had landed in my yard. And, afterward, I had two flat dogs with lolling, slab-o-ham tongues who were more than happy to go to bed early.
  • Speaking of dogs, Harriet has discovered that, if she brings me a mouthful of looong grass, I’ll tear each blade into small pieces and hand feed it to her. She’s not spoiled or anything. My excuse for obliging her is that there is nothing, and I mean n-o-t-h-i-n-g, cuter than a Boxer dog smack-smack-smacking her lips while eating itty bitty pieces of grass.

I think that’s about everything. As you can see, I live a most exciting life!

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Score! And, Some Other Stuff

Shelly

I got back from the pop machine and found that some very kind soul had left a couple of issues of Real Simple sitting on the magazine table. Real Simple is a good source of gluebook images. The thick clay-coat paper is also great for recycling into handmade art journals.

And, I found out that I’m getting my old desk back tomorrow. I cannot articulate how happy this makes me. The new, supposedly “ergonomic” furniture we were given is pure crap. It’s shoddily made and uncomfortable to use, especially if you’re short, like me. The computer sits in the corner and the keyboard tray is like an a ginormous platter. The sheer hummensity of the tray means that the monitor is at least two arm lengths away, which is not good. The tray also extends out so far that it’s impossible to reach over it to use the desk behind it. That means that I have to do a bizarre hybrid of The Twist and The Cha-Cha in order to get my work done. No, no, no. But, tomorrow, I’ll have my beautiful old desk back. Wheee!

In other news, I was suddenly possessed last night by a lawn mowing demon. It’d been weeks–literally–since I’d cut my grass and it was reaching critical mass (um, length?). There were several sections that I had to cut by raising up the mower and lower it down. My only complaint about this mower is that the grass chute gets clogged too easily. Because of the length and the dampness of the grass, I had to clean out the chute every two steps. It ended up taking me over three hours to do the whole thing, but it’s done, done, done. For now. I’ll have to do it again before the weekend is over. Between the monsoons and fact that I had to cut it on the highest setting, it’ll be due for another cutting in a few days.

Finally, in gratuitous cuteness news, I present Miss Harriet Brown the Amazing Burrito Dog:

100_0357

Harriet, as you can see, is a Boxer dog. Boxers are dainty (ha!) little things who are sure to perish if they get cold or wet. Physicists take note: I have it on very good authority that it is possible for a dog to melt and freeze at the very same time. Anyway, Miss Brown is fond of her creature comforts, first among which is her binkey. When she’s feeling a wee chill (pretty much anything under 75F), she brings her blanket to me so that I can wrap her up like a burrito. At night, she insists on sleeping under the covers, as far away from The Eeevil Fan as possible. On sunny days, she likes to pass the time on the front deck, baking her little pea brain to a crisp.

Crankypantsing, Music

Quality Rock, Real Variety

Shelly

My silly toy car has, as is only fitting, a matching silly toy radio antenna, so my commuting entertainment options are limited. Depending on what’s on, I listen to a combination of public radio and the local “quality rock” station. You’ll note that, in their tag-line, they decline to say what quality their, um, rock is. For the most part, it’s not too bad, though their program director occasionally goes on mystifying Bob Seger benders. O gross. Mostly, though, they stick with a gaggle of interchangeable angsty boys and girls, with a fair sprinkling of older stuff. I appreciate getting to hear OMD, Led Zeppelin, and Tori Amos mixed up together. And, though I’m not the biggest John Mellencamp fan, it is Indiana and I do have a small soft spot for him.

Which leads me to today’s purpose for blathering… I grew up listening to Q95, back before Bob and Tom were syndicated. Back when they were marginally funny. Back when potty humor passed for entertaining. Back when the juvenile rebel in me said “Hell, yes!” whenever they played an uncensored version of a song containing profanity. Back when those little forbidden rule flauntings counted.

This morning, I was reminded of that feeling when our local quality rock station played uncensored versions of John Mellencamp’s Play Guitar and Steve Miller’s Jet Airliner. It’s amazing that a little forbidden profanity can have such a profound effect, but my inner adolescent said “Hell, yes!” Instant attitude adjustment! Considering it was a rainy, gross Monday morning, that was no mean feat. And, it nearly makes up for having to listen to Bob Seger every morning last week. Nearly.

Crankypantsing, Pets

But Wait, There’s More…!

Shelly

Apparently, I’m not finished frothing about the little stuff at the bottom of my Giant Bucket of Craptacular Things

So, last Saturday, as I’m merrily working my way through a waist-high pile of Things To Do, my scanner decided to have a nervous breakdown. It started with a loud grinding noise which became progressively more grindy and more loud. Then, my computer crashed. Guess who did not have “shopping for scanners” on her Things To Do list? Oooh, Teacher, pick me!

So, I got dressed (working in one’s PJs is one thing, but going shopping in them is quite another[1]) and headed out for some hunting and gathering. Not that I held out much hope that I would actually find a scanner in Spencer (pop. 2000). But, you know what? I did. O frabjous day! Of course, it was a scanner-copier-printer-FAX-toaster-microwave-coffee maker-all-in-one thingy, which isn’t exactly what I was looking for, but it scanned, by golly, so I bought it. And a USB 2.0 adapter, because I couldn’t remember if I had one at home. And a nifty crackle paint kit that was on clearance for $2.50. And some Xacto blades. And deodorant (mmm, cucumber and melon). I forgot the flashlight batteries, though.[2]

I went home and installed Mr. Scanner and, for the first time ever I was able to convince Windows to play nicely with the cute little USB device. I went back to work and, though the new scanner has some software issues I don’t like, it seems to work okay. Whew!

Then, on Sunday, we got a sudden storm. One minute the sky was blue with harmless looking, puffy white clouds and the next it was black. That’s the down-side to living in a valley–you can’t see storms coming in until they’re rightontopofyou. I managed to get my computer shut down before the power went off, which was a relief. Sitting through the hail and winds was not such a relief, though. Storms scare the pants off me, so my hands were shaking and I felt like throwing up. Yuck. The storm passed almost as quickly as it came, though, so it didn’t last long.

And, because life isn’t exciting enough, Harriet cornered some sort of wildlife last night. Because it happened in the far corner of the yard, where it’s pitch black, I couldn’t see what it was.[2] From the way it bounced against the fence, it sounded fairly big, though–maybe 20-30 pounds? And it hissed and growled. Maybe it was a raccoon? ‘Possums don’t usually growl, as far as I know. Whatever it was, it beat the hell out of Harriet. She ended up with hamburger face. None of the cuts or bites were deep, though, thankfully. By the time I finally got her away from it (“kill! kill! kill!” she said) and inside, she was completely freaked out and panting so hard I thought she’d swallow her tongue (um, no, not really, but still, she was pretty tweaked). I washed her face with hydrogen peroxide, checked out her mouth, and looked her over really well.[3] Everything seemed okay and she calmed down quickly. She slept on the bed with me and I woke up several times to check on her. She was fine and looked good this morning–no sign of pain and her appetite was normal. When I got up, I took her out on a leash, not knowing whether or not The Thing was still there. We checked out The Scene and there was no sign of It. Hopefully, It will never, ever come back.

Oh, and Elliott, bless his little heart, decided to sit this one out. He hung back and let Harriet do all the work. That’s probably a good thing, because she was suffering demonic possession. If he’d gotten in the middle of the fray, she might’ve eaten his face. Or tried to. Those itty bitty Boxer teefies of hers are comical.

_______________________________
[1] Unless, of course, you’re one of the high school girls I saw while scanner shopping. They were wearing matching PJ bottoms, matching tank tops, and–I am not making this up–matching hair.

[2] A flashlight would’ve been handy to have during the encounter with The Thing. But did I remember to pick up batteries? Nooooo. Guess who will be stopping to get some tonight?

[3] For such a tweaky girl, she’s a peach about being handled when she’s sick or hurt. Those cuts must’ve stung like hell, but she didn’t flinch when I cleaned them.

Crankypantsing

Supermarket Assault

Shelly

On my way home from work one day last week, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things. Aside from “veggies” and eggs, I didn’t have a list, so I did more aimless wandering than usual. Do I need anything from the Indian food section? Hmmm. Green chile poppadoms would be nice. How about the juice aisle? Do I need any V-8? No? Oh, that’s right, I still have some left from the food co-op. Oh, yes, here we are. Eggs…

You can see how it went.

So, I cruised through the dairy aisle, past the bulk-frozen-foods section, and into the normal-sized frozen foods section, where I was immediately transfixed by the vast array of potatoey goodness. Mind you, I don’t normally succumb to it’s siren call, but on this day, I was sorely tempted.

And then it happened. A little old lady assaulted me in the frozen foods section of Marsh. First, she sneaked up behind me, until she was this >< close. She grabbed me by the arm and proceeded to explain to me that all those nummy potato products are unhealthy. Well, duh! Then she told me that she stays skinny by indulging only in ice cream. Next, she looked at all the stuff in my cart (various fresh veggies, eggs, poppadoms, plain yogurt, and a couple of jars of marinara sauce). I didn't ask her for a critique of my diet, but that didn't stop her. I found out that Knorr makes a package mix that is way better than any marinara sauce in a bottle. That may be. I'm doubtful, but I'm not about to argue with random bossy people. I also found out that people in Italy don't eat much beef. M'kay. I suspect the Italian terrain isn't well suited to cattle ranching, but I'm not sure why I ought to care one way or the other. Also, Edy's ice cream has gum fillers but Breyers is pretty good. (I think Breyers has an offensive after taste and I'm pretty enamored of Edy's coffee with chocolate cappuccino chip, but I'm not the expert whose daddy owned a drug store with a soda fountain, so what do I know?)

Really, I now know more about this woman's life than I know about most of my friends' lives. She's a photographer who works for the county court system. She makes US$40K/year. She's lived in Bloomington her whole life, but travels to Italy frequently. The last time she was there, she nagged the bed and breakfast owner into selling her the dishes right off the dining table. She knows the secret to the perfect vinegar and oil salad dressing (ugh).

And then, the pièce de résistance, she started ranting about fat, smoking, and poor people. Heaven help me. Did I look like someone who gave a rat's ass what this woman thought about the health and habits of poor people? I Don't Think So. Apparently, back in 1492, she happened to be driving past a soup kitchen and was offended when she saw that some of the folks in line were (gasp!) smoking. Unsurprisingly, she had the brass ovaries to get out of her car, go inside, and complain to one of the workers about it. Who, rightly, told her that charity isn't charity if there are strings attached. I guess that must've pissed her right off, if, years later, she still feels the need to air her grievance to random strangers in the frozen foods department.

At this point, nearly 30 minutes had passed and I was close to homicidal. Yes, I know I could've just walked off or told her I had to go, but I have a hard time being that mean to someone else, even when it's a stranger[1]. Thankfully, some poor guy wanted to get into the ice cream freezer behind us. She started talking to him and forgot about me, so I beat a hasty retreat. As I was waiting in line, I could hear her, across the aisle, assaulting someone else. It sounded like she was picking through their grocery cart, too.

________________________________
[1] When I worked at the local newspaper, part of my job involved taking customer service calls. We'd get quite a few of them in the early morning from elderly folks who were obviously lonely and had no one else to talk to. I'm not good at small talk with strangers, so it was very uncomfortable to me to find a way to do what my job required without hurting the caller's feelings or make them feel even lonelier. That job sucked for me on so many levels that I can't even begin to describe the vastness and deepness of its ginormous, hummense suckitude.

Crankypantsing

A Wee Break

Shelly

I love my little mower. It’s a wimpy corded electric with only an 18″ blade, so it takes for-freaking-ever to mow my, um, “lawn,” but it’s quiet and, best of all, it doesn’t stink. I can actually smell the grass when I mow instead of yucky gas fumes. I can also smell the wild garlic and mint, which is quite nice. Tossed salad, anyone?

I’m about 2/3 finished with the dog yard. While I was mowing, it occurred to me that They ought to develop a type of grass that doesn’t need mowing. Instead of creating Frank-N-Veggies that I’d rather not eat, why can’t They do something useful? I could get excited about grass that never needed mowing. Fish genes in my tomatoes, not so much.

Oh, and that perfect mowing weather I was hoping to enjoy went bye-bye. The clouds blew out and the wind died down, so now it’s hot and sunny and not breezy enough to do anyone any good. Damn!