Category: *heh*

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Cats: Every Single One Is a “WTF?” NOT Waiting to Happen

Cats as pets are. . . strange. Interestingly strange, but strange nonetheless.

Sure, they all seem to want to do some of the same things–play Mighty Hunter and bring their catches in, just to brag ya know? Let you find or make the most comfortable seat in the house. . . so they can steal it. Just lil normal things all of ’em seem to do. But each has its own eccentricity.

One of ours would ALWAYS seek out a way to lay across my shoulders, no matter where. Seriously. Bath tub, walking around, wherever. That was HER place to be. She spent almost a year at my parents’ place because *cough*someone*cough* couldn’t take the competition for space in our bed during our first year of marriage. Not pointing fingers. . . 😉

Another one–loved the crust from One Particular Pizza Place soooo much that she was easily trained to come to a whistle.

Another: sought out very tight, closed-in spaces and would on rare occasion simply go wild, seem to become a housebound feral cat. Strange, but when being civilized was a great warm lap-fur massager (LOUD purr).

Another: would invade the bathroom and jump on my shoulders during Throne Room Meditations, but ONLY then.

Current guy: Nice enough fella, but when he wants to play fetch, he’s really, REALLY insistent. And LOUD. Really likes sitting or sleeping on the back of my Wonder Woman’s fav chair (which is OK by her as long as he stays out of her hair *heh*) but will only lay BESIDE me (except when he’s getting in my face DEMANDING ATTENTION–NOW!).

Oh, all of ’em have/have had other quirks and eccentricities, but the one constant is that they’re all different and all. . . cats.

BTW, you know why some folks appreciate dogs but hate cats? Often it’s just because they are manipulative, coercive control freaks. Dogs don’t mind that when done without physical abuse, and even with such abuse they usually forgive and accommodate. Not so cats. Cats are more like normal people in their response to abuse and coercion, only more so. Coercing or manipulating a cat into doing something they do not want to do. . . well, there’s a reason for the expression “herding cats” as an expression describing futility.

Show me someone who likes dogs and hates cats and I’ll start looking for other evidence of sociopathy. Show me someone who hates dogs and likes cats and I’ll look for other signs that they are mentally and emotionally deficient. Show me someone who likes both (and who is liked by both) and I’ll look for further evidence that they might possibly be trusted with the keys to my house.

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Well, About Time!

I needed several days in a row of sub-90 degree weather to get some more painting done on the exterior of the house and. . . finally, weather cooperated and a good chunk is done (with much more to do, yet *sigh*). The thing is, i’s been 35 years since I managed a paint brush as high off the ground as this has to be, and I’m not as well-balanced, *cough* graceful *cough* and sure-footed as I was then.

I also don’t have my former youthful sense of invulnerability. *heh*

Plus. . . this time, I have a wall that I can only approach with a ladder from a sloping yard below. So, digging footings every time I move the ladder, wearing a safety harness and using a safety lanyard/rope attached to one of the safety anchors I left on the roof when I re-roofed last summer.

Cumbersome. Slow going. Especially since the paint I’m using has a STRONG warning to NOT THIN, so I MUST use a 3″ paint brush on the siding instead of spraying as I had wanted to do. Oh, well.

Must remember before next bout to take the ibuprofen BEFORE ascending the ladder. *heh* Hands’ll probably work a bit better.

Annnnnd, after this lil chore is finished, it’ll be back to downing and cutting up a few trees that have to go. Firewood, anyone? (It took me a couple of months last year to get someone who needed firewood to haul off a goodly-sized tree I had cut up into ~18″ chunks that still needed to be split. I’m sure if I’d split the wood for ’em it would’ve gone sooner. *heh*)

*sig* I seem to remember being much, much younger last year. . . 😉

Of course, since it’s going to rain for the next two or three days, I’ll have some time off from yard work and work on the outside of the house. Love it when a plan comes together. . .

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Dream Gig

Tour guide for America’s Third World County.

I took some time this a.m. and, persuading Son&Heir to come along, traveled some of the back roads of America’s Third World County. A few high points included going back over a road where I’d cleared out a fallen tree last Friday (was just noodling around, tree was blocking half the road, had me some fun moving it with Archimedes’ help ;-)–just checking to see if any local denizens had claimed the firewood), THE prettiest cemetery in the county and the edges of a nature conservation area.

Noodling around in the “piney woods” byways of America’s Third World County is just such a refreshing experience, methought a gig as a tour guide for the county would be an ideal gig. I mean, how many folks–even those who’ve LIVED here all their lives–know about that lil community cemetery out in the middle of nowhere, tucked into a hillside beside a rarely-graded dirt road? Wrought iron fencing with finials all around, always seemingly freshly mowed, well-kept, and with a neat lil gazebo tucked into one corner: just a lil gem.

And there are all sorts of lil gems all throughout the county–bluffs and caves (few of them well-explored–some apparently never explored!), pastures, woods, creeks and rivers, bridges, low-water crossings, high ridged two-tracks, winding hollows, forested cathedrals, gorgeous homes-hovels-dilapidated and abandoned structures: such variety and more. People groups? Amish, Somali, Hmong, Vietnamese, Latino, South Pacific Islanders, Blacks, Caucasians and more. And even within those groups, it seems that geography molds differences. Real Ozark hillbillies? We got ’em. Salt-of-the-earth farmers and ranchers? We got ’em. End-of-the-word survivalist compounds? We got ’em, too. Party gals and guys? Too many. And on and on and on. And unless the property’s posted with warnings, most of the folks are approachable and pretty darned friendly–and their dogs are too. 🙂

And you can be pretty safe betting they’re also well-armed. And that’s a good thing, IMO, because well-armed folks in America’s Third World County are almost always at the very least polite and helpful. They may want to know why one is approaching their door, but that’s OK, because if one is polite in return, interested in and appreciative of the area, they’ll almost always be a fount of neat information.

Tour Guide, America’s Third World County. It’d be fun.

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Give That Writer a Dope Slap

. . . and an enrollment in a remedial English class.

Yeh, yeh, I know it’s six of one and all that, but, in my experience, writers who write the rather awkward, “had woken me up” instead of “had awakened me” also tend to write such abortions as “backseat” (adj) to refer to a “back [SPACE] seat” –a seat (n.) in the back of something–or “backyard” (again, adj.) to refer to a yard (n.) in the back or “back [SPACE] yard”. These aren’t horrendous bobbles, but they are annoying in that they indicate a sloppiness of craft.

The worse annoyance is that by degrading the language–using adjectives in forms readily recognized as adjectives as nouns, replacing an adjective [SPACE] noun they contribute to the destruction of useful distinctions in words. What? Would a writer of “backseat” (used to refer to a back seat) write driverseat or passengerseat? Maybe so. . . *shudder* “Backyard” used as a noun writers: will you also be consistent enough to use “frontyard” and “sideyard” as nouns? Hmm? Yeh, when one puts it in those colors, such usages look as stupid as they are.

Oh, other abortions often flow like Exlax-induced sharts from the hands of such writers, things like first-person narratives recounting past events in a breathless present tense to, I imagine, induce a sense of urgency in thoughtless readers in much the same way newsreaders attempt to convey a freshness and urgency to their banal lies with the same device. *sigh* Of course, given the temporal deficiencies of readers (or watchers) of such drivel, the device may well work, for values of “work” that include giving an idiot a spoon to use in scooping out more of their own prefrontal cortex.

And indeed, it seems to work pretty much that way. But it does get worse. Really. I recently read about 1/4 of the way through a book wherein the author used just about every dumb device, awkward phrase, and misused word he could cram into the thing in his attempt to. . . write a typical “Dan Brown” pseudo-thriller.

Oh, *gagamaggot*

(That said, the writer was failing to be quite as bad as Dan Brown when I bailed, even with his violent assaults on the English language. But that says more about how execrably bad Dan Brown’s writing is than anything else. . . )

But seriously, “had woken him up” for “had awakened him”? How hard is it to write (and think) just a wee tad less awkwardly?

(OK, OK, apparently pretty darned hard if my own writing’s any example, but take note: I’ve not asked you to PAY to read my scribbles, have I? Hmm?)

Yeh, yeh, I know that BECAUSE of illiterate uses by dumbass writers “backyard,” “backseat” and other such words used as nouns is becoming more acceptable to those who just DGARA about useful distinctions in words, the ability of the written word to inculcate rational thought or any number of other positive values. I despise such rotten, destructive persons and their destructive effects on society anyway. So there. *heh*

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Let’s Think That Through, Shall We?

Went to Lowe’s to buy another $40 gallon of paint and maybe a new paint sprayer (long story on the old one ;-)). Bought neither one. Did buy a new paint brush, though.

Got home. Rechecked the paint. Glad I held off, because I almost bought another can of trim instead of the color I needed for the walls. Back tomorrow (well, today now that it’s the wee hours) for the right color (and taking the paint can, not just the label from what I thought was the right paint can pasted in my notebook. Yep. I referenced the wrong paint label to the sales clerk. Oops. *heh*).

Still not getting the paint sprayer, because the can label says “Nope. Don’t do it. You’ll be sorrrrrrry!” Or words to that effect. *heh*

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I Like a Lil Change-up Now and Then

For a latte-like foam on coffee without the crappy taste of milk in coffee, I just use a whisk in (real, heavy) cream-laced coffee. Foamy, great texture and tastes like COFFEE, not milk with coffee flavoring. The only real difference is, as I said, texture. Makes a nice treat. Oh, heck, add a dash of cinnamon if you’re a certified Olde Pharte. Tastes OK, doesn’t overwhelm the coffee (if you add juuuust a dash) and is supposed to have a beneficial effect on memory. With the proven memory boost coffee gives, it’s probably not needed, but whio knows? Maybe it will help.

What was that? No, I have no idea what I just wrote. I’m shy a cuppa joe or two. . .

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Passing thought. . .

I hold teachers–real teachers–in the highest respect. “Educators” (those who are in the “edumacation game” for the ego strokes or the tenure cushion, etc.) notsomuch. I wish I knew more teachers and fewer games players and tenure trackers marking time to retirement.

And, though sadly it would do harm to the 2% who are worth anything at all, I’d be happy to see all pubschool administrators relegated to chain gangs making little rocks out of big ones. At least they could do no harm to society there.

Thatisall.