A Tongue Lashing

[Thirteenth in a series]

I'd heard that there's an affliction that occurs in cats and dogs where they involuntarily leave their tongues sticking out.

This wasn't the case for BabyDoll.

She'd just, uh, forget that it was out.

Simply, she'd be grooming herself and her tongue would forget to retract.

But most of the time, I'm sure, she was just content to let it hang.

Out.

Sounds Of Silence

[Twelfth in a series]

Listen.

I can still hear her silent meow.

She'd open her mouth as if to utter a meow, but nothing would come out.

Either from a whistle on my part, or from an "I love you". Or any number of question/answer sessions between the two of us.

Listen.

She's still there.

The Full Tuck

[Eleventh in a series]

If there's one thing that BabyDoll knew how to do was sleep. She wasn't sedentary by any stretch; Molly and Sherman - and Bambi to a lesser extent - kept her spry. But when it came time to nap, she was all for it.

Oft times when I'd take a weekend nap in my bachelor days, I'd lay prone on the bed, hands behind my head, and up on the bed would jump BabyDoll. She was so quiet when she'd jump up; nary a movement of the bed springs. Graceful and calm. Once, when I'd just gotten new mattresses, an inch or two higher than the last set, she misjudged her landing and jumped into the mattress. With an "I meant to do that" expression on her face, thereafter, she was back to graceful.

Quietly, she'd walk casually up to and onto my chest. Still not a movement of the bed. And she'd lay on top of me, facing me, never looking away. But she wasn't quite ready to nap yet. Stare at me she would. Waiting for something I never quite knew what, but eventually, she'd fold one leg under her. And a pause of sometimes just a few seconds, sometimes minutes. She wasn't quite settled at those times. Maybe a noise is what she heard. Maybe I wasn't quite settled yet.

And finally, the other leg was folded under as well.

She was now set for the duration.

And she'd start purring. This cat knew purring. Sweetest sound God ever made. Rhythmic, the greatest way to take a nap.

I'd fall asleep, content, with BabyDoll in her full tuck, napping with me.

All the other cats I ever had, fosters and overnight guests alike, would try sleeping on my chest. But if they didn't full tuck, they weren't staying for long.

Next time you see a cat napping, look to see if they're in a full tuck - chances are, they've been there for a long, long time.

Coming Full Circle

[Tenth in a series]

It was just the two of us around 2000 when my final two foster kittens found their way into our lives. From the same litter, they were brother and sister, though again obviously from separate fathers, just like BabyDoll's kittens had been.

Sherman and Molly were semi-feral, which meant they needed time apart from BabyDoll most of the time in a cage. And needed some serious taming. For the most part, they tamed well, though Molly needed much more work. She was more of a loner; and BabyDoll didn't like her much if at all.

Sherman, however, was always trying to cuddle with BabyDoll, but she wanted nothing to do with it, at least at first. In a kitty bed with barely enough room for her, Sherman would try to fit in there as well. It was a tight fit.

BabyDoll was never a large cat. That was Sherman's job. She had to have been the runt of her litter. In fact, she was so little that at a vet visit, another customer at the vet's office remarked "What an adorable kitten!"

"She's eight" was my reply.

"Months?"

"Years."

And Molly and Sherman? In the photo above, they're both about three months old.

And they still have me.

A Ripe Old Age

[Ninth in a series]

That BabyDoll lived to the ripe old age of 19 shouldn't suggest she never saw a veterinarian. Oh, she had her share of vet visits, not counting those times when I went on "trips".

She had a recurring problem with her fanny - this is, after all, a pseudo-family audience I'm shooting for. Her, uh, glands back there were prone to getting compacted, and three times she was in for surgery to take care of that.

And at some point three or four years ago, she was having problems going number one - her vet (now the third one) prescribed prescription cat food for her and that was that. Of course, since BabyDoll, Molly, and Sherman all shared the same bungalow, they all ate the expensive stuff.

But the most heartbreaking of all was one morning some fifteen years ago or so that I awoke to a cat with completely-clouded-over eyes. Overnight this happened. Talk about getting freaked out.

Off to the vet we went. When he saw what the problem was, and realizing he had no experience in this particular arena - that, and not being able to tell if a cat is pregnant (yes, that vet) - he sent me off to our second vet. I had to leave her at the vet and go off to work, but could not keep my mind on the tasks at hand during the day.

Getting back to the vet later that afternoon, I was surprised to see BabyDoll's eyes again crystal clear. Just some drops a few times a day, and she was back to her old self. And unfortunately I have no recollection of the disease she had contracted, but in all those years since, the problem never re-occurred.

BabyDoll's eyes were always a source of wonder for me. They were always SO big and wide. I always wondered just how all that personality could fit in a head with such big eyes. So much so that one assistant vet once asked during an exam "Is she about to bite my head off? I've never seen such wide eyes on a cat!"

But most interesting was that BabyDoll rarely looked at the camera when I'd take her picture; she'd look at me all-the-time otherwise. The picture above was one of the rare occasions she was ready for her close-up.

More On BabyDoll

Just so you know, I haven't completed the BabyDoll story I started earlier this week. I've thankfully been busy at work, which has kept my mind off losing her.

Molly and Sherman are helping me cope; Sherman mostly, since he was the one who cuddled with her most.

As the weekend approaches, I'll have less time to think about work and more time to think about BabyDoll.

And if you're wondering, yes, I miss her terribly.

Which Flavor Would You Like?

Looking a bit like a dessert tray, this ring looks to be one of the more uncomfortable rings available on shopping sites. Are they Thin Mints or Jolly Rancher? Maybe M&M's?

At least they won't melt, what with all that ice.

BabyDoll Becomes A Poster Child

[Eighth in a series]

BabyDoll never really understood what I did for a living - I repair computers and printers. At least at the time I did. My job had me going all over the state; on one such service call, I met someone who has had an influence on me (and BabyDoll) for the last ten years.

I became involved with an animal rescue group. Now, how this particular person could tell I had a cat stumps me - OK that's not really true. People who have cats can always tell when someone else has cats. Invariably, it's that contrasting hair color all over your clothes.

It was on that fateful day that this person asked "Do you have a cat?" "Why, yes, I do." "Ever thought about getting it a friend?"

I admitted I had. After all, BabyDoll was alone during the day and would probably welcome the company. I had since moved into a new complex where pets were allowed, so having another wouldn't be too difficult.

It was 1998 - both BabyDoll and the new roommate were of a similar age.

BabyDoll never really warmed up to the intruder, though the interloper tried to make it work.

Over the years for the group, BabyDoll was the big sister to various cats and kittens alike. But never really allowing any of them to get close. Physically or otherwise. But the two of us remained close.

Because BabyDoll was always around, and I needed to keep my photography skills honed, she became an unwilling subject for my photography endeavors. Once, when I needed a model for a claw-clipping article, BabyDoll was the obvious choice. She had always let me clip her claws, and would patiently stay perfectly still for minutes on end. One session lasted an hour - never
squirming.

The photo at right shows BabyDoll's paw. Not a blur in sight.

At left, I needed a photo for the subject of getting your cat a dental. Again, BabyDoll stepped in for a closeup.

Ten years after becoming part of an animal rescue group, I credit BabyDoll; a good many animals have her to thank for getting me involved.

She Wasn't The Cheapest Roommate

[Seventh in a series]

To call BabyDoll a "pet" wasn't fair to her. She was simply my roommate. But oh how expensive she was.

Remember, she was still contraband. And since I was living in an apartment, as usually happens, maintenance happens at the most inopportune times. Thankfully, this particular complex always gave advance warning. Those Banker's Boxes became a common appearance; I even started leaving them in my car so as to keep up appearances.

So whenever the maintenance crew needed to come by, off BabyDoll went for a night or two for vacations. I just always told the boarding place I was going on a trip.

One thing that wasn't expensive as far as BabyDoll was concerned is that she never played with toys. Sure, I bought them for her, but she was never interested in them. Throw a toy that any other cat would love batting around, she'd give me that look that said "Are you serious?"

So I was mightily surprised when, after wadding up a piece of printer paper, and just lobbing it into the middle of the room, that I suddenly heard it hit the floor again and again and again.

BabyDoll did know how to play!

Little pieces of wadded up paper were soon the norm, and BabyDoll had more than enough things to play with.

And one other thing she loved - Q-Tips. With no opposable thumbs, I never had to worry about her putting the swabs in her ears; rather, she would trap them between her paws and rub her face with them. I even caught her once cleaning the goobers from her eyes.

This wasn't a cat.

This was BabyDoll.

The World Traveller

[Sixth in a series]

Since BabyDoll was no longer a street cat, she never went anywhere. That is, until a friend invited me out to Oklahoma one Christmas. And I took BabyDoll with me. Back in those days - 1995 - taking your cat along on a plane trip was really no big deal; she got to ride in the cabin with me.

I bought her a top-of-the-line mesh carrier, so she could see out, but no one could see in. Other than the security people, no one ever knew there was a cat in their midst. And while waiting for our flight, with the carrier on my lap, I unzipped the top only far enough so she could stick her head out. Amazing what people choose to see if they see anything at all - the only person in a group of about fifty people was a little girl of about seven. "Look, Mommy! A Kitty!"

"Yes, dear".

"No, Mommy, look over there!"

Then everyone saw BabyDoll.

I did that, too, on the plane. And she was soooo good! Never made a sound, and what really amazed me, never had any accidents, though I wouldn't have been surprised.

That's just the kind of cat BabyDoll was. No surprises. She never once scratched me or bit me in eighteen years. She'd sleep on my chest, never making a sound. Other times she'd sleep right next to me, never nudging or squirming to get out of the way. She was always just there.

And now she's not.

Days Weeks and Tears

[Fifth in a series]

Not long after good homes were found for each kitten, BabyDoll had her surgery. No more of that, thank you very much.

I did learn something from the whole kitten ordeal. Never pass up an opportunity to take a nap. Ever. Even now, almost twenty years later, I still hold to that theory. And as anyone who has ever had little ones around, you learn to sleep when they do.

I just realized I typed Tears and not Years in the title to this post. Obviously I left it alone. Maybe it was a mental slip of sorts, but that's what I've been feeling the last couple days.

Life went along as it does once BabyDoll and I became fast friends. And damn she was smart. Hell, she liked me, didn't she?

One afternoon - don't know if it was a day, a week, or a year after the kittens - I was watching old reruns on TV. Andy Griffith was on. Yes, I know. And I started whistling the theme song.

Mwarw. Simple and to the point. Still don't know if that means "Stop it you're making me sick" or something else.

Whistled again. Mwarw. Again. Mwarw. That got to be a tradition between us.

And later, on days where she'd sit on the couch watching me at the computer, I'd say "I love you" over and over. And over. And over. If you were to hear it yourself, you'd be saying Mwarw.

And one night when I came in from work, instead of Mwarw (which at times meant "Clean the litter box"), she said "Rowr Roo". With a bit of a higher tone at the end of the "Roo".

Stopped me dead in my tracks.

I immediately knew what "Rowr Roo" meant. And said it back to her.

"Rowr Roo".

And the tears went by.

Tom And Tom

[Fourth in a series]

Having been raised as a city boy and not spending much time in the country, I wasn't particularly privy to animal husbandry, even less so than the vet who didn't realize that BabyDoll was full of kittens.

One evening in late winter, I knew that whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon. I'd just come in from the laundry room with a basket-load of clothes, when out the corner of my eye I saw BabyDoll at the end of the hall. Hunkering down and ready to pounce, she started her run. At the speed she was running, I had to act fast. Using the basket of clothes to add to my spinning force, I spun and kicked to door closed just in time. In the process, she ran headlong into the door, shook it off, and had that classic feline look of "I planned on doing that."

And in the ensuing almost-two-decades she never once tried to get out again.

BabyDoll was mostly tabby with a bit of calico mixed in for good measure. A Domestic Shorthair if ever there was one. That winter she had just three kittens; it was her first and only litter. And judging by their markings, it became apparent that BabyDoll had been in the company of not one but two Toms. In fact, I later saw a jet-black tom and a Siamese tom a few weeks later. She had two Siamese-tabby mixes and one tabby mix that can only be described as a black tabby. Beautiful kittens.

And a beautiful BabyDoll.

More Monday evening...

Did She Eat This Morning?

[Third in a series]

In the ensuing days after my new roommate moved in, I was careful to not let on that there was a cat in my apartment. After all, there was that no pets clause in my apartment lease.

After seeing her on the window sill one evening after getting home, I moved my bed away from the window so as to not allow her access. And for the foreseeable future, always kept the mini-blinds closed. The sill wasn't terribly wide, but as cats will do, she was quite agile enough to land gracefully on the sill from the floor.

The front door was another problem. Coming home during the day at one point, she wasn't in the front room, but after a short inspection tour later, found her sleeping peacefully on the bed. But always wary of her darting for the door.

It was a couple of weeks later that I figured I should make sure she was healthy enough to hang around; after all, she had been living on the "streets" and there was no telling what she might be "carrying". So an appointment was made at a local pet clinic in a strip mall far enough away from my apartment to make sure I didn't run into any neighbors.

The day came and came the inevitable question of just how you ferry something you're not supposed to have out and back in?

"Bankers Boxes" became my makeshift pet carriers, but not before putting a towel in the bottom.

The vet I took her to was an older gent who ran the little clinic by himself - no staff, and, as it turned out, not much experience in animal husbandry. After the necessary inoculations for her species, and during the poking and prodding phase of the examination, he asked if she had eaten that morning. A guess that she had in fact eaten that day I said yes.

"She seems to be really full."

Of what, would become apparent in 57-69 days.

Never went back to that vet.

The Stray

[Second in a series]

I was never really supposed to have had a cat. It just worked out that way.

I was living in an apartment complex in Midvale that didn't allow pets. Of any sort as I recall. But there were always stray cats around. BabyDoll was one of them.

I'd seen this youngish cat around my building since the summer of 1989; it was always friendly enough to not run when I'd walk by. Sitting on the curb around the parked cars, even meowing a hello whenever I was near.

I'd see her mostly in the daytime. I wasn't working standby back then; when I got home in the evening, I was there to stay until morning. I didn't go out much after dark so I never knew she was there. I guessed in the times that I saw her that she was being "kept"; maybe being let out in the mornings and again let in, in the evenings.

That summer was hot. Really hot. And so as to get out of the oppressive heat, she'd lay on the landing a flight below my apartment. One such day I left a bowl of water for her and the bowl would be dry by morning. I bought some cat food at one point and left it out for her, but that didn't last long; the bowl was removed one day and that was that. But I still offered water from time to time.

Through late summer and into early fall, there were times she would follow me. Right into my apartment at one point. She was a great conversationalist, always listening to everything I said. And interjecting a well-placed mrawr when appropriate. And when she'd had her fill of my commentary, she'd go to the door and wait to be left out.

Late fall became winter and as oppressive as summer was, winter was just as bad. Temperatures were going down. Way down. By early January temps were approaching the twenties, and on one fateful night, it was in the low teens.

At the time, the complex was in a quiet strip of Midvale on the east side of the valley. Really quiet, the building was far enough off 13th East that there was virtually no road noise. So when something went bump in the night, you actually heard it. So when a screeching sound started from downstairs and reaching a crescendo, it seemed that much more amplified. The word caterwauling was made for this sound.

It was fairly obvious what the ruckus was about, but just to be sure, I opened my door.

At warp speed, and a blur later, she rocketed up three flights of stairs and into my life for the last eighteen years.

BabyDoll

[First in a series]

The photo above is one of the earliest digital photos I have of my cat BabyDoll. It was taken in April 1998. She was about eight or nine years old.

BabyDoll died sometime Friday. She was 19.

Can't write any more just now.

No Sailor's Delight In This

Yesterday morning, while readying the truck before going to work, this was the view over the neighbor's house. Had to hurry off to work, but couldn't pass up the shot.

Just minutes after the shot, the moment was gone.

Storm's a-brewin'...

Apologies To Taylor

To be honest, after I realized a mistake I made this morning, I was just a bit gleeful. In a sort of devilish way. Quite fitting for Halloween.

After awakening him from his peaceful slumber (how you can sleep peacefully in that trash-heap is beyond me), and traipsing downstairs, he yelled up to our bedroom, said "Is it Friday? I don't have school today!!!"

Traipsing again now upstairs and a door slam later, I remembered that in fact, he DID have today off.

Which begs the inevitable question: WHAT is the deal with kids nowadays getting so many days off? I don't remember getting so many days off last century. Sure, we had BOTH Lincoln's and Washington's birthdays off, and two weeks at Christmas, and a full week for Spring break. Now it's all that (though it's just "President's DAY" now), but now there's an extra two for UEA weekend, not to mention what the hell ever today's reason is, and other reasons ad nauseum.

The schedule is in a PDF, available here.

Reflections

I have no idea what the reflection in this ring is. A lamp? A pole? A plumber?

This is vaguely reminiscent of a photo that was making the rounds several years ago on the internet. Supposedly real, it was a photo of someone trying to sell a teapot on eBay. A shiny teapot. Mirror-finish. And it captured the reflection of the person taking a photo of said teapot.

If you don't believe me, do a GIS for "ebay teapot".

Be happy the ring's reflection only looks like a lamp.

I'm Such The Jewelry Shopper

Got these for Marilee this morning. These are NOT to be confused with my ring critiques; these are actually nice.

QVC, item number J39059.

Morning Cartoons

"Lilo and Stitch - The Series" is on TV right now. On our TV. Taylor is watching. It's on Disney.

Prior to that, "We" were watching SpongeBob. I suppose it could be worse, he could be watching scantily-clad dancers gyrating on MTV or VH1. But I digress...

At a point in my childhood, a conversation revolved around what we watched on morning television. Black and white television. Yes, there was television when I was young. And we ate rocks.

One such brilliantly-stimulating conversationalist had just asked me what I watched; Sheriff John was the reply. A group of girls said in unison "Oh, we don't watch that any more, we watch Hobo Kelly. OK, so I started watching Hobo Kelly. Just to be part of the group.

Here we are many centuries decades later, and Taylor is watching stuff intended (and rated) for kids 6-plus; the rating is Y7. While Sheriff John and Hobo Kelly didn't have ratings back then, I'd guess the ratings would have been similar. And, back then, I was around seven or eight.

Taylor is 15.

As I said above, it could be worse.

NTTAWWT

I have a bluetooth headset for my work Blackberry. It's not like any bluetooth headset you've seen. At least in Utah, anyway, since I bought it in California.

It doesn't have a "boom" - it doesn't have any kind of projection out from my ear. Specifically, my left ear. I wear it on the left so I can still use a conventional telephone handset if I'm at an office or at home; it would "get in the way" otherwise.

I'd tried other bluetooth headsets in the past. Until I got this one, I'd tried four different models - they were either way too uncomfortable or had a boom that set right on my cheek thus covering the microphone part. This one is out of the way such that there are no obstructions and is quite comfy.

But there's a problem with it, but it's not from an acoustic or electronic standpoint. It's a cosmetic problem.

A year or so ago, I had my hair sort of long, and my hair was covering up the earpiece part of the headset. From the side, it still looked like a headset, but from the front...

Back then when my hair was longer, I was on a service call downtown and was riding an elevator with a couple of HVAC technicians. One off to the left and the other to the right. The one on the right was looking at me. Intently, perhaps a bit too intently for a business environment. Becoming a bit uncomfortable with the attention, I turned away. Creepy stuff.

It wasn't until later that it dawned on me what his attention was being drawn toward.

It was a similar encounter when I was wearing a t-shirt Jenn had gotten me last Christmas. From Thinkgeek, it was an internet-savvy shirt with a graphic that depicts someone's ass having fallen off - the acronym depicted was LMAO. Funny stuff, but really only to someone who's internet-savvy. The attention I was getting at a supermarket was from a decidedly lithpy man. At that moment, I was not laughing my ass off, and haven't worn the shirt since.

Last night, on my last service call of the day, a cashier at 7-11 was giving me that same elevator look from a year or so ago. And yes, I need to get my hair cut.

Because from the front, my oh-so-cool bluetooth headset looks like an earring.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

[Yes, Marilee loves this story]

It's NEXT Weekend, Folks

Taking Taylor to school this morning, the roads were strangely devoid of 7am traffic. A holiday I wasn't made aware of? A school holiday?

Then it dawned on me: traditionally, the news media is always aware of and 'remindful' of Daylight Savings Time. Not this year - yet. But this year, as was last, the date that happens has changed.

Traditionally, it was always the last Sunday in October. This year and last - and all future years - Daylight Savings Time ends on the first Sunday in November. And Standard Time begins.

Methinks some kids are going to be late for school.

And the big kids are going to be late for work.

Please Drive To Highlighted Route

Marilee and I confused the hell out of Jill yesterday. At first it was funny, but after a while, her condescending "Recalculating" refrain got downright obnoxious.

Marilee and I went on our yearly pilgrimage to the Anniversary Inn in Logan. We go up there every year to celebrate our wedding anniversary; this year, due to work considerations and lack of time and/or money, we didn't make it up there until a full five months after the fact.

As a bit of a treat, I took her for a drive on Legacy Parkway. I'd driven Legacy even though we'd said we wanted to experience it together - there was a slow-down on I-15 a week or so ago and I had to take the new route. It worked out, though - going on new routes had become a tradition in my family and I wanted to continue that tradition with Marilee.

My Dad probably started the tradition long before I came along - back then in the mid-60's as each new section of highway was completed in Southern California, we'd go take a drive just to see where it would lead us. As an example, it was a real treat to finally be able to drive the Pomona Freeway (Highway 60). the 605 was a real treat as well. I'm sure there are others, but those are the ones that stick in my memory.

I'd always thought it was the adventurous spirit that got us to go on those new routes, but as I realized yesterday by driving Legacy, he was driving those routes for a different reason - not so much to see where they went, but if he could use those routes to his advantage.

My Dad sold power tools for Skil Corporation back in those days, and drove nearly as much as I do now. Guess it's in my blood. And finding a quicker way to get from Point A to Point C without touching Point B was something you always tried to do.

Sure, I've got Jill and have veered off the beaten path only to have her steer me back to where I'm supposed to go. And even though Jill doesn't know about Legacy (yet), I'll likely use that new road to my advantage.

Thanks, Dad.

M-F-E-O

There's a scene in Sleepless in Seattle that partly sums up the relationship Marilee and I have. The little-girl friend of Jonah has just ghost-written a letter from Jonah's Dad to Annie in Baltimore. And Annie's friend asks what a certain acronym stands for. You know the scene.

So I was just this morning telling Marilee about the new feature I've added to my blog, that of critiquing rings on shopping channels' web sites. Yesterday's CityScape entry was the one I showed her, and she nailed the same description I'd come up with.

Yep - I'd say Marilee and I are Made For Each Other.

Cityscape

When I first saw this ring, it looked like something out of Star Trek a la Voyager. You know, that initial shot where they're showing the overhead view of a city with humanoid beings milling about.

But to wear a cityscape of some far-off city on some far-off planet in the Delta Quadrant?

Don't think so.

Handy Quote

Heard of a great quote this morning while listening to NPR.

Harry S. Truman, when asked about the economy:

"All my economists say, 'on the one hand... and on the other hand...'" Truman once cried. "Someone give me a one-handed economist!"

[Quote from Anecdotage]

Meme (n)

There's a term bandied about on the internet that at first glance is easy to define. The term is "meme". Just the sound of it conjures up something that is prevalent, that is easy to identify. The definition, on the other hand, is tricky to lock down. [and for you wordies, I'm defining meme here as it applies to the internet, not as it exists in the real world.]

Simply put, this definition is key: "a viral encapsulated idea, with built-in feedback loop." What that means is that I might put something on my blog that's an ongoing theme and you provide the feedback via comments. Another definition confirms this: "an idea, project, statement or even a question that is posted by one blog and responded to by other blogs".

The best definition is this long-winded diatribe from the American Civil Rights Union: "Leftist pseudo-intellectualese or linguistic affectation, generally used in the pejorative, employed to designate a commonly held position, thought or expression as worthy of or susceptible to attack or denigration by superior leftist 'critical thought' which the employer possesses in abundance."

Oh yeah.

Moving forward¹, I'll be including some of the more prevalent internet memes here in my blog, although I've already covered the meme "fail" on a number of occasions.

Check back tomorrow for the first of an ongoing series of meme attacks.


¹ I SO hate the term "moving forward". WHEN did "In the future" become less-desirable, and "moving forward" become the norm? HAD to have been the current political climate. If only Obama or McCain could throw in a "henceforth", I'd be impressed.

Now There's A Good Expenditure

Wonder if she has to give the clothes back on November 5th?

RNC spends thousands on dresses

Someone Hurled On This Ring

I give other guys a bad name.

I admit it - I look at QVC's and HSN's web sites even when Marilee isn't expecting it. Not necessarily to find something nice to buy for her, but to find really bad stuff. Ugly stuff.

I figure that if I can identify bad stuff, that it will make finding good stuff that much easier.

I verified that ability tonight by identifying the following ring:

Hope whoever did this feels better.

Soon.

He Scares Me Sometimes

Last week, I needed to go to Delta on a service call. It was first thing in the morning, and though I don't mind the driving, I knew that I'd be out of commission for other calls for the better part of the day.

And a three-hour team meeting. What to do, what to do...

Of course I went on the service call.

But that's not the creepy part of this post.

Beforehand, upon finding out that I had to go to Delta, I commented on the fact to Marilee and Taylor. And while Marilee does get concerned from time to time on the number of miles I drive and has commented on this many times before, it was Taylor that made my head snap:

"Are you required to attend this meeting?"

Whiplash.

Where the FAN that came from, I have no idea. Obviously that kind of comment has to come from conscious thought - that's not the kind of blabber I expect. So it is obvious he's listening in his English class - just not showing he knows the stuff.

If this behavior goes on too much longer, I'm gonna need a neck brace.

Is it Sarah Fey?

Or Tina Palin? You be the judge.

Mirror, Mirror

Yes, this is what I look like in the morning. Maybe I should have warned you.

But this post isn't so much what I look like, but that the picture is being taken in a mirror. It's a mirror that has been with Marilee for five years or more. Even BB (before Bob). But I don't "use" it - the one in the bathroom is the one I use. Or not, if I really don't want to see myself like this.

Up until a few days ago, I'd forgotten that the damn thing was even there. That is, until Marilee...

In the photo, I'm sitting on the bed. Marilee is between the mirror and me, in her Big Green Chair. Earlier in the week, at the exact moment I was made aware of the mirror that had been there for as long as I've known Marilee, she did something that...

Sorry, internet, I cannot divulge the exact thing she did. I try to make this blog as family-friendly as I can without making every post a three- or four-letter diatribe. Suffice to say it's what she said rather than what she did:

"Mirror, Mirror on the Wall"

...I snapped my head up so fast I nearly got whiplash. In the dim light of early morning, I couldn't really see what my head was pointing towards, but I'm sure I was turning several shades of purple and red.

At that moment, who was the most - embarrassed of them all?

In A Rut

For the last couple of weeks, I've tried to capture a certain "feature" of our back yard but the lighting was never quite right; this morning, it was:

ALL of the dogs - Bambi, Princess, and Lexie follow this same path every time they go out for business meetings. I'd never noticed the path in the past, likely since the grass was never lush enough since the sprinklers were installed.

There's another path back there, straight, but nowhere near the depth and definition that this path has.

There must be some sort of magnetic feature back there that makes them follow the path - and it is nowhere near any path that the sprinklers were laid out in.

Dunno - maybe it's their path to success.

Or cookies.

Three Letter Words

Apparently, the ubiquitous four-letter-words we have in the US are nothing compared to the three-letter-words in Sweden:

While authorities in Sweden have been known to put their foot down when it comes to what parents name their children, the three-letter combinations on Swedish licence plates can also be censored.

[From The Local, October 3, 2008]

And they're not just "dirty" words, though their word for 'poop' (BAJ) is banned from the plates. Some of the combinations are translations: I suppose BAJ is BAJ in English as well as German, for example.

Interestingly enough, some are "sound alikes" to English. For example, FUC is banned, but strangely FUK is not.

And though the article states that the Swedish word FAN is banned because it's a swear word, it does not divulge what it means. It's the opposite of himmel if you're inclined to look it up.

For now, I'll stick with the four-letter words. I won't need to use a Swedish to English dictionary.

TIme Flies

[I'm actually writing the answer to today's quiz Friday night. Long service call tonight to be completed (I hope) Saturday, and I may not have the time to write]

The question was how to make the words:

time flies you cannot their flight is too erratic

...into something that makes sense. Admittedly, it would only make sense if you were into flies and their flight characteristics.

Why else would I mention something that had to do with "Time Flies"? Jenn had an entry on her blog about how time flies. The chronological time - and how, as you get older, time seems to go by much faster. A given day may take forever to pass, but overall, time seems to fly by. Oh, don't I know that.

So the phrase (and answer to the quiz) is:

Time flies? You cannot! Their flight is too erratic.

Flies don't fly in a straight line. Simple.

Tempus Fugit

Here's an oldie but a goodie.

Take the following words, in the listed order, add necessary punctuation to make sense of it. Simple you say? Just try it:

time flies you cannot their flight is too erratic

Answer tomorrow.

BUSH - BS = ?

Oftentimes, when the mind wanders a bit - usually while driving - I'll just up and laugh out loud.

Once today it was the weird guy riding a motorcycle at 36th West and 47th South with a helmet adorned with bull horns and a hide of some sort - you can't make this stuff up.

Or the peculiarly-tattooed individual up by Lagoon. Shirtless. In this weather.

But the best was just thinking about the lame duck in the White House. I was trying to come up with a new idea for MY bs here on my blog, and the duck wars came to mind. Yeah, that's lame. Lame duck. Aha!

SO here's my grandiose idea - maybe I'll put it on a shirt:

If you remove the BS from BUSH, what do you get?

UH

You read it here first.

About That Four Letter Word

There wasn't much sense in taking a picture of the snow that fell day-before-yesterday - it melted quite fast. The after effects, however, are still with us. FROST. Window scraping really sucks in the morning, and there are now three vehicles needing treatment.

At least it's not ice. Yet.

The Evening Meal

It occurred to me tonight that there's one thing that really makes a house a home - it's coming home to the great aroma that says food is cooking. And good food at that.

I've been blessed with the ability to make meals called "packet cooking". Not a new concept, mind you - you put chicken or beef in a foil "packet", fold over the edges tight and pop them in the oven. Simple, and not messy. Thankful for the un-messy part.

It was several years ago that Reynolds came out with the packet cooking advertising campaign. I started making them when still a bachelor, and I'd like to think that it was one of those qualities Marilee thought was worth hanging on to - "Wow, and he can cook, too?"

Anyway, it was my "turn" to cook, and we had "Pizzeria Chicken". Simple enough: garlic-impregnated chicken breasts with spaghetti sauce, mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, and a few choice veggies including chopped green and red bell peppers and onions. I even did the chopping.

It looked like we'd have plenty left over for, surprisingly enough, leftovers, but didn't turn out that way. Chris came over to get some mail that had been delivered here, and when asked if he'd had dinner yet, well, so much for the leftovers. But all was good - in fact, damn it was good.

Every one enjoyed it so much that it made me cry.

Wait - that was the onions talking...

Bless You!

I can't believe I've never heard of this before, and there have been over 23 million views of it.

Sneezing Baby Panda

Totally freakin' cute.

Four Letter Word

Forecast for tonight, slight chance.

Saturday, a combination of TWO four-letter words. One not so bad and can be said in mixed company. The other, not so much.

Saturday night, an eighty percent chance of the most vile, despicable word ever created by man. SO vile, coming in piles, you even have to shovel it.

No, not that word. The other four-letter word starting with an 'S'.

SNOW.

Stop The Flashy Thing

To get a picture like this, you have to take a LOT of pictures. This particular day it was close to twenty.

Bambi must be thinking "Stop the flashy thing!"

Or, "How easy would it be to lunge forward and bite his face off?"

In My Face

Not a tight crop - this is just where Bambi's face happened to be in the frame.

Took this one last week on the patio.

[Taken with Olympus C5050Z, f8, 1/500sec, ISO 200. Your mileage may vary.]

Sign Of The Times

So it appears that the NRC (Nuclear Regulatory Commission) has put off EnergySolutions' intent to bring in Italian nuclear waste all the way to Utah.

How did they think they would get away with such a plan?

Apparently, they have a permit (click for bigger):

The sign is southbound on State Highway 196 off I-80 at Exit 77. Middle of nowhere on the way to Dugway.

Take your Geiger Counter.

On The Grapevine?

I'm always fascinated by the stuff in my backyard. Most of the stuff its there by happenstance - there's a strawberry bush near the neighbor's fence that likely grew through the cracks. Are they pickable? Not really - they're tiny things, but obviously strawberries.

There's a full-on maple tree back there as well, and a smaller version of it off in a corner. That small one, however, is there by choice. Several years ago, Marilee picked some mature seeds off the ground and planted three in the front yard and the one in the back. The three in the front yard are beyond yearling status and are well on their way to being landmarks. "The house on the corner with three maples". I've a friend whose house is identified by "the big pine tree in the front yard". You can't miss it.

But on the only "side" of the house is this, well, vine. Growing over from another neighbor's yard. Strong grower this vine is. Tried to pull it down one year and the next, and decided to just let it grow last year and this. It grows on the chain-link gate to the backyard and provides a great visual block.

In years past, it was just a vine. But this year there's a change. Sure, it still vines, but now there's fruit. Real fruit. They're round, they're purplish, and generally have no sheen - they're not shiny.

Yes, they look like grapes.

The Man From Earth

Lately Marilee has (finally) overcome her awkwardness in running her TiVo, so much so that the "Now Playing" menu is overflowing with things she has found to record from basic cable.

I, on the other hand, have been doing searches for things to watch in the area on the TiVo where one can download items to watch over our broadband cable connection. Yes, I know it's a roundabout way to get shows to watch, but it's a lot cheaper in the long run - cable to internet to Amazon to internet to TiVo. We watch enough TV for entertainment as it is; we don't need 300-plus channels to find things to watch by spending more of our salaries on digital cable. .

So once in a while I find something out of the ordinary that takes my breath away, something that's so far off the beaten path that I (or we) would never even know exists if not for the TiVo. Case in point:

I just got done watching a movie that matches that description - The Man From Earth. A movie that made me think - and that doesn't happen very often, at least not in the last few years. I can't even remember a movie that really, really made me think - maybe not since the DaVinci Code. And therein lies a parallel that blows my mind.

I could go into detail but I won't. Just get the movie and watch. Suffice to say that the screenplay was written by someone who wrote for Star Trek: TOS (the original series). And he wrote an episode that partly had to do with DaVinci.

However you see the movie, it'll blow your mind, too.

PediaSleep

The last couple days have found Marilee and myself looking not for musical MP3's for her iPod but for nature sounds. Babbling brooks, crashing ocean waves, that sort of thing.

She'd heard of some that Target had, but either because of price or slight mixtures of music, they weren't quite what she wanted. The iTunes store didn't much help, either - that was due more to price anyhow.

So this morning, after a spelling error while Googling, I found something called PediaSleep. MP3's of "Soothing sounds proven to calm even the fussiest of babies".

After playing just one sample of PediaSleep for Marilee, she was hooked. They had the MP3's in several different lengths; 75 minutes seemed enough, but Marilee said she wanted something that would preferably last all day. And as luck would have it, PediaSleep comes in 12-hour versions. We opted for the mega-pack of seven different MP3's for $24.95,

So admittedly, these aren't real sounds - it's all mixtures of white noise. But if the noise-cancelling effect works for Marilee, it works for me.

Besides, it's noise-cancelling she's interested in.

Watsyursoshul Redux

It had to happen. And local, for that matter.

As I recently said in my blog, some things should never be taken for granted. Like your SSN:

From today's Salt Lake Tribune:

State worker pleads guilty to ID theft
by Pamela Manson

A former Department of Workforce Services employee admitted Friday she used the personal information of the agency's clients to open instant lines of credit or obtain credit cards. Laura Bustamante also said she gave information on at least 33 people to two other people, who also obtained fraudulent credit cards. Bustamante, 34, of Midvale, made the admissions while pleading guilty to one count each of unlawful access to a protected computer and aggravated identity theft. She faces up to five years in prison on the unlawful access charge and a mandatory two-year term for identity theft that must be consecutive to the first sentence. Her sentencing by U.S. District Judge Tena Campbell is scheduled for Dec. 15. Prosecutors say Bustamante, aneligibility specialist, picked her victims based on whether she could get access to their home mailboxes. She then filled out credit card applications in their names and either stole the cards from the mailboxes or had the cards sent to the home of her boyfriend's mother. Bustamante said her scheme was carried out from September 2007 to January 2008. The two people who also fraudulently used the personal information of agency clients - Michelle Chapman, 29, and Joshua Smith, 32, both of Murray - have pleaded guilty in the case and are awaiting sentencing.

In The Loop

Marilee and I took a drive this afternoon into the mountains - specifically, the Alpine Loop.

It's been, oh, about twenty-some-odd years since I've taken that drive, and had forgotten how beautiful it is up there. And while the fall color wasn't as vibrant as last year, it was worth the drive nonetheless.

Last year, as you'll recall, we had an especially wet August and September, so the fall colors were about two to three weeks later than normal. The colors just exploded.

This year not so much, but gorgeous just the same.

As it turned out, though, I didn't have much opportunity to take many photos; the great shots weren't near turnouts. The three in this post were, however.

Maybe we'll have one more weekend to take some more pictures, but I'm not holding my breath - snow is forecast for this weekend.

Katy Did It

Out on the patio this morning:

Thankfully, none of the dogs saw Katy.

[Taken with Olympus C5050Z, f8.0, 1/125sec, ISO 200 (full manual). Your mileage may vary.]

Just Answer The Damn Question

I really try not to get into political debates. After all, I didn't much pay attention in Civics in high school. Or even since.

I've been fartin' around reading this and that these last couple days, and found yet another reason to watch the Vice-Presidential debate tomorrow (Thursday) night.

Seems there's another Palin-Couric interview I haven't seen yet:



Good stuff about which newspapers and magazines she reads at about 3:45.

All I can say is, Thursday night's gonna be a blast.

Whether Or Not

A few months back, Marilee bought herself an iPod. I, for one, never would have bought myself an iPod. I have multiple devices that play MP3 files. My GPS being one of them. Otherwise, I'm happy finding MP3's surreptitiously on the web via, uh, blind luck. Let's not go there.

So this morning, Marilee was all fired up about getting some songs downloaded to her iPod. It didn't occur to me that she had an ulterior motive to do so until just now when she walked out the door on the way to work...

There's been some flak going on in her office about folks who talk more about non-work stuff than what they're supposed to be talking about. Or not. So rather than have to listen to everything else, Marilee will have music to listen to - or not.

The underlying reason for this behavior? Think about all the times when you've wanted to talk to someone and they have earphones on - are they really listening to you or are they listening to music?

Or not?

Yes, I've Changed The Layout

It was getting a bit cramped on that other layout; this layout goes all the way across the page.

So it may look a bit "off" for the next day or so - bear with me while I work out the kinks and tweaks.

[Tuesday Update: That should about do it for changing the layout - any comments?]

[It's now Wednesday Morning, and Marilee does not like the new layout. "Too plain" "Loads faster" "Too plain" "Loads faster"...

"Tastes great" "Less filling"]

Winter's Next

Visually, Autumn has begun.

Physically, Fall has not.

The Future Of The Republican Party?

I have a friend who is a Naturalized Citizen of the United States of America. After living here for some time, he decided to become a US citizen if only to vote against George Bush (the first one).

I just saw this today and hope he votes Obama:


Watch CBS Videos Online

Timing Is Everything

Tonight, in a move similar to the Heidi Game of 1968, ABC television was under the impression that everyone who would be watching Dancing With The Stars would just quietly wait until after President's cop-out bail-out speech to watch what they really wanted to see afterwards.

Yeah, riiiight.

Well, it didn't work out that way. You see, Marilee used the TiVo to record DWTS so as to watch something else. And not surprisingly, it was a different episode of DWTS that she/we were watching. TiVo's great in that regard. Unfortunately, we didn't realize the second episode was pre-empted by the President's speech until long after the completion of the episode.

In a ten-second blurb, ABC mentioned just before the speech that in the Pacific time zone DWTS would be shown in its entirety at 8pm Pacific Time, whereas those of us in the Mountain states would see the show directly afterwards. Since the TiVo was only going to record an hour's worth of time, that meant the last fifteen minutes of DWTS would be cut off. And it was.

I bet there are more than a few folks out there in the vast wasteland who are in the same boat as we are.

I just hope they replay it in the next day or so.

Blame the economy on this one.

How To Torment A Telemarketer With One Word

Bracher Emden Is On Acid

Marilee and I were (emphasis on were) watching HSN tonight and, while I try to stay out of fashionable or not discussions, the $300 travesty that was on-creen made me blurt out "NO".

Her reaction was right on key - she agreed.

After seeing what was being passed off as fashion, I just had to go out to HSN's website and see what else this guy had created.

OH - MY - GOD

Guys, do yourself a favor and ask your significant other what she likes. And pray she doesn't want any of this stuff.

But Whose Legacy Will It Be? [Part Three]

So it has been said recently that the reason the raccoons are being allowed to come to such a horrible demise is that raccoons are "...nonnative animals that feed on migratory birds by the lake", said Phil Douglass, northern Utah conservation-outreach manager for the Division of Wildlife Resources. "An entire nesting colony of white-faced ibises fell prey west of Layton two years ago", he said. "In fact, state trappers try to thin raccoons in the area. The omnivores routinely kill more than they can eat." [adapted from the Trib's web site, September 16]

So a raccoon is a non-native creature according to Wildlife Resources. We as humans build crap smack in the middle of migratory routes for other animals and give those animals the right of way. Yet raccoons are considered as not being native to Utah and are dealt with accordingly.

Funny thing, that. Until 1847, weren't we non-native as well?

For raccoons, this isn't the place?

Some Things I'd Rather Not Know

I'm helping Marilee write a report for sch... sorry, work today. It is, after all, homework, but for work.

Since she works in the insurance industry, and further, in the medical coding part of that field, on occasion she needs to do work having to do with procedures that would make the average person squeamish. Myself included. She'll even occasionally watch medical shows on the TiVo, and I'd rather not watch those, either.

So how do I, someone who's more well-versed in things technological, help someone with a project that's quite a bit more organic?

I'm the middle-man, that's how. If anything, I know how to search for stuff. I may not know what I'm searching for, but it's up to Marilee to say "How the hell did you find that so fast?!?"

That, and I know how to put words together that would otherwise turn into a run-on sentence of gargantuan proportions. How, for example, to put two medical procedures with god-awful sounding names together so as to not refer the typist to the Department of Redundancy Department? For example:

"The difference between [Procedure A] and [Procedure B] relies on whether the [medical term] matter stays in the [medical term] or not. In the former, it stays in the [medical term], and in the latter, it is expelled."

Sort of a Mad Libs exercise, but in much grosser terms.

Hope she gets an A.

Grand, Just Grand

OK, so I'm an idiot. Both front tires on the Grand Am ended up being low, not just the right-front, but alas, there was no slow leak in either, either.

The big question is, though, how exactly does it take an hour-and-a-half to check for a slow leak? The answer to that, of course, is that they need the extra time to find something else that you absolutely have to have fixed.

I should have left with just paying thirteen dollars to let them fill the front tires. But no, I let them talk me into shelling out another $660 for new struts all around. The good news is that the thing rides just as well as it did before I went in.

Honestly, though, the ride was a bit better, of course, because there was much less weight in my wallet.

[Just kidding. I read the above to Marilee and she did not laugh.]

Rodeo Circus

For the last several weeks, either because I was working late hours, or on call in general, or sick, a certain vehicle in our possession has gone unused due to a slow leak in its right-front tire, and I/we haven't made it over to Les Schwab. Yet.

That would be Marilee's Grand Am. Let me repeat that: Marilee's Grand Am.

In the interim, the only mode of transportation that's been used for general travel is my Isuzu Rodeo. Let me repeat that: Bob's Isuzu Rodeo.

Otherwise, I drive the work-provided Chevy Silverado with the "unknown" logo.

So Marilee has been driving the Rodeo to work while the Grand Am's been sitting idle. Again, Marilee's been driving Bob's Rodeo.

Last week, while taking Taylor to school, I noticed something that made me begin to wonder if the Rodeo would ever be the same again. The following picture says volumes:

Sure, that's my bluetooth headset on the right, there's even a memory DIMM on the console.

But what are those things wrapped around the gear shift?

Uh-oh...

But Whose Legacy Will It Be? [Part Two]

More on the Legacy raccoons - don't think for a minute that UDOT couldn't have done anything about the earthbound wildlife. Wildlife underpasses have worked in other areas. Take a look at what North Carolina did along their State Highway 64.

That article says they worked the overpasses into the construction of the highway. Now don't you dare tell me that UDOT couldn't have done that too.

But just watch. They'll say it was an oversight, that yes, they should have designed it in, and they'll have to rip up what they've already done, thus spending more of our highway dollars, ad nauseum.

Just wait.

But Whose Legacy Will It Be? [Part One]

I've been hemming and hawing about whether or not to do this entry for the last few months. But after hearing what's happening along the new Legacy Parkway, I felt I had to make a comment.

Sure, so far the thing looks like it is doing what the State of Utah said it would do - relieve the congestion on I-15. Though I don't drive I-15 up through Davis and Weber counties all that often, it's typically when I have only a few short hours to be on a service call up that way. But from what I've heard from Dave "at work", it's wonderful.

But back to what's happened since the thing opened over the weekend. Seems Legacy's route takes it across "protected" wildlife refuges, and the tree-huggers were all up in arms over that. As well they should be. Legacy goes through prime waterfowl land. The Great Salt Lake is, after all, a great resting place for avian creatures to take a much needed rest from wherever it is they're flying from/to.

But apparently, no one - the environmentalists maybe - didn't think about the earth-bound creatures in and around the route. Particularly the raccoons in the area.

The local news said this morning that one commuter saw eight dead raccoons on the side of the road on his way in to the city - roadkill in other words - and another twelve on his way home.

Familiar Yet Not

OK, I admit it. I haven't really been paying (much) attention to the presidential races. Beyond the obvious - what was McCain thinking, for example. But think about this:

[Partial bs follows]

When the RNC happened, McCain had just presented Sarah Plain and Tall. At that moment, there were five people who had been bandied about by the media in the last several months, regarding our next president - Clinton, Obama, Biden, McCain, and now Palin. Five. Five? That rings a bell...

The Keating Five. Look it up.

Our Economy Isn't Screwed Up

Zimbabwe's is, tho.

Found this image on someone else's rant blog:


I guess in other words, be happy here in the States.

I'm not WoWed by this

Chris referred to him as a "little punk". I thought of a better word, but I'll be nice in case someone out there has sensitive ears.

Seems the LP has been altering his World of Warcraft account password unbeknownst to Marilee or I (yes, unbeknownst is a word). And also, apparently, the parental controls password as well. Thankfully, the account itself is held by Chris, and LP can't change that.

Methinks someone's hard drive is going to crash. Soon...

Two All-Nighters

Yes, again, a work-related theme.

Emergency installs at two separate stores. First in Layton, the second in Logan. And one of them likely made me sick. Really sick.

I could go on about how a sub-contractor can "get away with" not showing up for an install, thus making it an emergency, thus putting the burden on the guy who is on call - namely me - but I won't. But what I can go on about is how some people don't have a clue about what such emergencies can do to the human body. And not just sleep deprivation.

For the first install, it was very last minute. I knew it could happen that the install could be dropped in my lap, but they waited until after the install should have commenced to tell me.

The second one gave me more warning, but I again didn't get the go ahead until about four hours beforehand. That, and it was going to be a three hour round trip. No time to get much sleep if at all.

So on the second call, I got an hour of sleep. Got up to Logan at 9:15pm. Worked through the night. Got home at 6am. If there's one thing I can remember from the evening's activities, I recall getting rather cold on the way home. Heater up to full. Then it happened. This wave of cold - really cold - washed over me. Didn't do my addition until the next day...

These kinds of installs allow for you to work through the night and take the next day off. Didn't feel too bad, though I just slept most of the day. I usually can't sleep during the day, but for some strange reason Friday I could. And woke up to a splitting headache, sniffles, and a scratchy throat. Didn't put two-and-two together until I mentioned it to Marilee. She said I probably picked up a bug sometime in the last couple days, and my tired state allowed whatever it is to attack.

Went to bed last night with a 101-degree temperature. And NyQuil. This morning I'm down to 99.5 or so. Short bug, but it has done its damage. Hacking, snotty, aches, runs the gamut.

And a busy week ahead, what with a new contract starting. Oh joy.

Stop Being Such A (Soda) Jerk

After I wrote the brilliantly stimulating prose regarding bathroom tokens of a few days ago, I just had to send my cousin the link. In a reply email, I had to laugh. And heard my Dad laughing in reply.

In fact, there have been times when I've been around my cousins and aunt when they'll say I even laugh like my Dad.

Same - Exact - Intonation.

So in her reply, she told me about the version she'd heard from her dad, but instead of paying a nickel, it was a bit more graphic. And I won't share that, uh, BM word here.

And a comment about my Old Man Talk.

She said "Yeah, and no one says fountain drinks anymore!"

Pretty much cemented the fact that I am my father's son.

Didn't see that coming.

Highly Magnified Fail

Got a letter in the mail yesterday from the school district. Seems some improvement is needed at Taylorsville High. The letter. from the school principal, says the athletic fields are in need of major improvements. To the tune of a hundred grand. That's $100,000 for those of you who "do numbers."

Back in the day, that'd be a whole new stadium. And though I have not perused said field or grounds, I can think of a few other areas that the money could be better spent.

Taylor - our Taylor, not the school - told me this morning that Monday's Biology Class was boring.

"How so?"

"We were using microscopes to look an an 'e'. Could have been an upside-down '6'. Not sure."

My mind's eye started wondering what sort of single-celled creature would be of that shape.

"We also looked at cotton."
"And a magazine."

"A biology magazine?"

"No, just some dumb magazine. And nothing was moving."

This was getting interesting, but not of the scientific nature.

"Was the 'e' shaped cell dead?"

"No, it was just an 'e'."

So from this I surmise that this Biology class is more suited for those who are going into the printer repair field so as to check for background scatter from a laser printer.

Seems to me that athletics is the least of Taylorsville High's problems.

Try R New Sandwich

OK, I'm not going to make this a plug for

...but there are times when I just shudder to think what has become of the English language lately.

The title of this entry is a paraphrased sample of a sign I saw today. There's only one company that has ever gotten away with using an R for another word.

And it ain't

It's getting a bit late, and I want to get to bed by a decent R.

Blind Sighted

On the way home from a service call in Magna late this afternoon, I was rather unlucky to get behind a brand-new 2008 Chevy Impala police car. I actually wish I had been in front of the car - it would have been far less painful.

Now I don't know who specified this particular car for the West Valley Police Department, but they should have their collective heads examined.You can't really tell from the above photo, but that strip between the backup lights is shiny chrome-like plastic. Driving east along 3500 South with the setting sun reflecting off that strip, honestly, it's like a bolt of light that pierces right through you, a la Raiders of the Lost Ark.

While I won't say you really need to experience this for yourself - I'd rather not hear anything from a law firm, thank you very much - but just maybe someone from WVC's motor pool or similar will see this.

THIS is bs

Not the brilliantly stimulating sort.

Ford's Fiesta ECOnetic. At sixty-five miles per gallon, I want one of these.

I cannot have one of these. It runs on diesel.

What's wrong with these people?

Bob 'n' Bambi

This morning, Bambi was in a major funk since no-one was paying attention to her. Pouting, in other words.

Marilee was preparing for the CAWS party, I was off doing errands for her, and Bambi was here on the back of the couch. Got back, grabbed the camera and got the following.

Priceless Olympus magic.

Taken with Olympus C5050Z, f4.0, 1/30 sec. w/flash. Your mileage may vary.