Big day yesterday.
Chickadee's cousin got married. HUGE deal. She married her on-again, off-again boyfriend.
Usually, that's not a great thing. This one dates back to junior high days for them.
I played kid chaser so chickadee could enjoy the ceremony. Thankfully, it all lasted a whole 15 minutes; maybe 20.
Then, all I have to say is:
Got it.
Two copies, actually. At 12:05 a.m. this morning after watching a wonderful display of fire arts by some firedancers at our local haunt.
If you've been living under a rock, use the google to look up 12:01 a.m. 7/21/2007 to find out.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Huh.
Well my tubes for the internets are stuffed full today.
Really.
The servers are having capacity problems assigning MAC (or is that IP) addresses and the sort as people log on.
I guess I'm going to take a nap.
Really.
The servers are having capacity problems assigning MAC (or is that IP) addresses and the sort as people log on.
I guess I'm going to take a nap.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Thank you.
Today, my wife's grandmother passed away.
She liked seafood. Especially salmon. In fact, when we had the chance to invite her over while we made salmon, she'd eat a second portion and always go home with another
She said she liked the way I cooked it.
I liked hearing her stories of growing up in Ruston ... meeting her husband at a USO dance (I think it was USO) ... working with my sophomore roommate at a snack counter called "Mr. Munchies". And the kind gruffness she used when speaking about her neighbors ... calling them "damn this or that" one moment and then saying how industrious they are the next.
She loved cats, too. She-ra ... Pumpkin ... and even our cat Sandy. There is also the collection of owl trinkets, which may or may not have been an accidental collection over time, but she did have many of 'em.
Her family is an example of forgiveness over time ... of grace and imperfection ... but that in itself is beautiful.
Thank you Grandma Jeri, you'll be missed by us and by Pumpkin ... say hello to She-ra and Mary for us, we still miss them, too.
She liked seafood. Especially salmon. In fact, when we had the chance to invite her over while we made salmon, she'd eat a second portion and always go home with another
She said she liked the way I cooked it.
I liked hearing her stories of growing up in Ruston ... meeting her husband at a USO dance (I think it was USO) ... working with my sophomore roommate at a snack counter called "Mr. Munchies". And the kind gruffness she used when speaking about her neighbors ... calling them "damn this or that" one moment and then saying how industrious they are the next.
She loved cats, too. She-ra ... Pumpkin ... and even our cat Sandy. There is also the collection of owl trinkets, which may or may not have been an accidental collection over time, but she did have many of 'em.
Her family is an example of forgiveness over time ... of grace and imperfection ... but that in itself is beautiful.
Thank you Grandma Jeri, you'll be missed by us and by Pumpkin ... say hello to She-ra and Mary for us, we still miss them, too.
It is done
Among one of the frustrating things in life is the misuse of the apostrophe.
Yep this little ant-trail guy right here:
'
He is misused, abused and embarrassed at just about every turn.
I, for one, am by no means an expert on usage, but I do know there are certain times that it should not be used.
Buy, why focus on the negative? Maybe each time I see a hand-written sign with the proper usage, or the lack of usage I should rejoice at the missing punctuation. I should be happy that the author took the time to word things differently.
CD's would simply say: Compact Disks, or, Certificates of Deposit.
"It is" would just be spelled out. No questions asked. Simply spelling out the word would save time.
I am not the only one out there with this pet peeve. There is actually a society in the UK committed to defending this voiceless and often abused punctuation mark.
Please help out.
I suggest:
If you do not know if something should be punctuated with an apostrophe or not, let the little guy rest.
Carry a red pen, or two, of various sizes to make the corrections as needed.
Thank you.
Update: I guess there is more people out there, thanks for this link, Elle!
Yep this little ant-trail guy right here:
'
He is misused, abused and embarrassed at just about every turn.
I, for one, am by no means an expert on usage, but I do know there are certain times that it should not be used.
Buy, why focus on the negative? Maybe each time I see a hand-written sign with the proper usage, or the lack of usage I should rejoice at the missing punctuation. I should be happy that the author took the time to word things differently.
CD's would simply say: Compact Disks, or, Certificates of Deposit.
"It is" would just be spelled out. No questions asked. Simply spelling out the word would save time.
I am not the only one out there with this pet peeve. There is actually a society in the UK committed to defending this voiceless and often abused punctuation mark.
Please help out.
I suggest:
If you do not know if something should be punctuated with an apostrophe or not, let the little guy rest.
Carry a red pen, or two, of various sizes to make the corrections as needed.
Thank you.
Update: I guess there is more people out there, thanks for this link, Elle!
Friday, July 13, 2007
Friday's thing
Irony.
In Alanis Morrisettes' Ironic (damn, you can find ANYTHING on Wikipedia!) it's not so much irony but just plain things that suck.
You know, rain. Wedding day. Traffic jams. Already late.
Most of those situations just plain suck.
This morning, while running a few errands, I realized that I am experiencing alanirony.
About 4 years ago, I was diagnosed with IBS (yes, everything is on Wikipedia). I will spare you the details, read the link if you want information. My assessment is IBS-A. Of course, when experiencing an epidsode I, too, become irritable (to my dismay).
One of the therapies for this diagnosis and, at times, deliberating problem (I've been bed ridden before while suffering an attack) is to simply consume more fiber.
You know, go eat a sweater ... graze on some grass ... drink Metamucil. Of course, option three is something that I've only seen my grandparents do for the last 30 years.
I'm not wholly into pills and whatnot, and I enjoy food, so I'd much rather up the fiber content of what I eat. I'm especially interested in breakfast cereals that contain as much fiber, as say, colon blow (transcript here).
Enter Costco.
I pay the annual membership to just see 10 gallon pails of mayonnaise lined up in neat rows.
You betcha they'd have some thing close to what I'm looking for.
Sure enough, on the shelf, a breakfast treat with 51 percent of daily fiber.
Let me repeat that ... Fifty-one percent of daily fiber.
I get movin'. Buy a box, go home, and have a bowl the next morning. (ahem ... of said cereal).
Misery is all I can say. This is the worst thing for my system.
It is true alanirony. "Have more fiber" the doctor says. "51 percent of US RDA of fiber" the box says.
Nooooooo the lower GI tract says.
It's been three bowls, and a week of pure misery, irritability ... and all that I can do is wait for things to pass.
I'd rather have the 10, 000 spoons and need a knife, thank you. At least I can use the spoon handle to butter my bread.
Now, go try to get the song out of your head.
You're welcome.
In Alanis Morrisettes' Ironic (damn, you can find ANYTHING on Wikipedia!) it's not so much irony but just plain things that suck.
You know, rain. Wedding day. Traffic jams. Already late.
Most of those situations just plain suck.
This morning, while running a few errands, I realized that I am experiencing alanirony.
About 4 years ago, I was diagnosed with IBS (yes, everything is on Wikipedia). I will spare you the details, read the link if you want information. My assessment is IBS-A. Of course, when experiencing an epidsode I, too, become irritable (to my dismay).
One of the therapies for this diagnosis and, at times, deliberating problem (I've been bed ridden before while suffering an attack) is to simply consume more fiber.
You know, go eat a sweater ... graze on some grass ... drink Metamucil. Of course, option three is something that I've only seen my grandparents do for the last 30 years.
I'm not wholly into pills and whatnot, and I enjoy food, so I'd much rather up the fiber content of what I eat. I'm especially interested in breakfast cereals that contain as much fiber, as say, colon blow (transcript here).
Enter Costco.
I pay the annual membership to just see 10 gallon pails of mayonnaise lined up in neat rows.
You betcha they'd have some thing close to what I'm looking for.
Sure enough, on the shelf, a breakfast treat with 51 percent of daily fiber.
Let me repeat that ... Fifty-one percent of daily fiber.
I get movin'. Buy a box, go home, and have a bowl the next morning. (ahem ... of said cereal).
Misery is all I can say. This is the worst thing for my system.
It is true alanirony. "Have more fiber" the doctor says. "51 percent of US RDA of fiber" the box says.
Nooooooo the lower GI tract says.
It's been three bowls, and a week of pure misery, irritability ... and all that I can do is wait for things to pass.
I'd rather have the 10, 000 spoons and need a knife, thank you. At least I can use the spoon handle to butter my bread.
Now, go try to get the song out of your head.
You're welcome.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Aphids, ladybugs and refuse ... oh my!
Elle sez in the comments here:
Yes. I dislike aphids. They are good for feeding to ladybugs. (Don't let the name confuse you, as I learned watching "A Bug's Life", some are crabby men who chomp on cigars.)
Three weeks ago, chickadee decided to trim a bit of our plum tree (a good move, as I'm trying thin some of the overabundance of plums on branches so the sunshiney-good energy and sugars go into the remaining fruits), and put the limbs into the brown bin.
I believe we then went on vacation, and came back.
The bin was placed in the back along our new alley (more in the future).
The spot gets tons of sun throughout the day, so it became a wonderful incubator. It was crawling with cute little lady bug larvae. I mean PACKED.
Our fairy gardenmother exclaimed, "that's where they went!"
I mentioned that we have a new alley. Well, when it went in earlier this spring, I contacted the city to see if they could pick up our yard waste with recycling in the alley. The last I left them, they were going to do some research, and see if it would be feasible.
So, we get back, bin crawling with larvae that will incubate for the next week or two, and then, we'd lift the lid. I thoughts were the ladybugs would be like sharks in a chum frenzy.
Come Monday afternoon, I get a funny feeling that something is wrong. I shlepped across the yard to the alley. The brown bin was a bit askew.
Sure enough, all those dreams of an aphid massacare by the ladybug minions are gone.
I am happy that my request went through with the city, though.
Yeah, but I'll have to weed the hell out of mine, water it constantly and wonder why. the. heck. the aphids. keep attacking. my plants! Oh wait... what were you saying.Funny you'd talk about aphids and their destructive sticky goo that falls on my cars, ruins my deck, and generally ruins wine, beer and other open beverages with their sacrificial aphidic virgins jumping to their death.
Yes. I dislike aphids. They are good for feeding to ladybugs. (Don't let the name confuse you, as I learned watching "A Bug's Life", some are crabby men who chomp on cigars.)
Three weeks ago, chickadee decided to trim a bit of our plum tree (a good move, as I'm trying thin some of the overabundance of plums on branches so the sunshiney-good energy and sugars go into the remaining fruits), and put the limbs into the brown bin.
I believe we then went on vacation, and came back.
The bin was placed in the back along our new alley (more in the future).
The spot gets tons of sun throughout the day, so it became a wonderful incubator. It was crawling with cute little lady bug larvae. I mean PACKED.
Our fairy gardenmother exclaimed, "that's where they went!"
I mentioned that we have a new alley. Well, when it went in earlier this spring, I contacted the city to see if they could pick up our yard waste with recycling in the alley. The last I left them, they were going to do some research, and see if it would be feasible.
So, we get back, bin crawling with larvae that will incubate for the next week or two, and then, we'd lift the lid. I thoughts were the ladybugs would be like sharks in a chum frenzy.
Come Monday afternoon, I get a funny feeling that something is wrong. I shlepped across the yard to the alley. The brown bin was a bit askew.
Sure enough, all those dreams of an aphid massacare by the ladybug minions are gone.
I am happy that my request went through with the city, though.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
What a difference ... I hope ... 12 years makes
Okay, aside from the fact that it's been 12 years since the first "big birthday screw up", which actually, after 6 years, turned out to be actually okay ... we're trying something a bit different this year.
By "we" I mean "me with the consent of the birthday woman".
Having noticed that there is a rather HUGE pile up of scheduling issues this week, one of which I am obligated to be at tomorrow evening, I figured it would be best to open the festivities of birthday to a more ecumenical approach. Get her some quality time with her girlfriends.
Not a small task.
Not at all a small task.
On my side, I need to get the house ready, which entails sorting and recycling tons of paper stuff ... finding nooks an crannies to hide, err, store things that would work better "elsewhere", and even find inspiration to get some things into the paper storage room ... err, office downstairs.
I have to say, much less organized than 12 years ago ... but, I'm much happier, too.
(Sappy alert)
Some silly study came out a couple of weeks ago that said love peaks after 3 years. Blech. That's if you're looking at life like a race. Jeeze, pace yourself! Slow down around your loved one ... I can say that there are lows, but she's the best thing that's going on right now!
Happy Birthday, chickadee! Have fun with your friends!
By "we" I mean "me with the consent of the birthday woman".
Having noticed that there is a rather HUGE pile up of scheduling issues this week, one of which I am obligated to be at tomorrow evening, I figured it would be best to open the festivities of birthday to a more ecumenical approach. Get her some quality time with her girlfriends.
Not a small task.
Not at all a small task.
On my side, I need to get the house ready, which entails sorting and recycling tons of paper stuff ... finding nooks an crannies to hide, err, store things that would work better "elsewhere", and even find inspiration to get some things into the paper storage room ... err, office downstairs.
I have to say, much less organized than 12 years ago ... but, I'm much happier, too.
(Sappy alert)
Some silly study came out a couple of weeks ago that said love peaks after 3 years. Blech. That's if you're looking at life like a race. Jeeze, pace yourself! Slow down around your loved one ... I can say that there are lows, but she's the best thing that's going on right now!
Happy Birthday, chickadee! Have fun with your friends!
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