Tend your garden.

Back to work today after 6 days off with pneumonia. I seem to be well on the mend, and hopefully I'm seeing the back of this illness. I started this job at the beginning of May and knew it would be at least a 6 month job interview (I'm a temp for a huge corporation, angling to be hired along with the other schlubs). The job is high-stress and high-turnover, and as of next Monday, I'll be into my 8th month of job interview status with no vacation, no sick leave and no benefits. Still, I'm grateful for the work, and I'm very happy to be here. This job got me out of Dallas and into the place I needed to be, so it did serve its purpose. I could do with a little less stress and uncertainty, though.

I mentioned last week that I've been reading Going Postal by Terry Pratchett. The funny thing was that by the end of the book, I found it was about something entirely other than it seemed at first blush. Like so many of my favorite stories, this one is a tale of redemption. Like Burgess' A Clockwork Orange (which is anti-redemption, imho), a Moist von Lipwig is given an 11th hour reprieve to mend his ways and work in service as Postmaster to Ankh-Morpork. Under very tight supervision, Lipwig runs on rails and gets a defunct post office cranked back to life. Over time, he has more and more freedom and sees opportunities for graft, but instead finds a sense of purpose and duty in his task, and opts to take the honest way and to do what is right and noble. In the end, Moist's tendency toward the licentious is sublimated to the sense of purpose he finds in a job well done.

If one's lot is to work for a living, at least one should feel they've made good use of that time. I know I'm doing good work and that I'm worthy of hire, but the stress level is excessive. I'll just keep doing what the old man advised at the end of Candide: I'll keep tending my garden. Seasons and jobs will come and go, but I know I've earned every penny they've paid me, and then some. That will have to be enough for now.

Even if you're not a fan of sci-fi/fantasy, I really think you're missing out if you don't check out Pratchett's writing. At least one person has told me they found some of his work on the preachy side, but I think he couches things in such lovely settings that it's a pleasure to read, and I find that on a great many points, I very much agree with him.

Have a great week. :)

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Bedtime for Chuy

But I want to sleep with you so badly! I'll just be small and warm and furry and tuck myself over here in the big middle of your pillowscape, mommy. You'll hardly know I'm here. Unless you let Praline sleep with us and we have to tussle at 5:00 in the morning. Otherwise, you'll hardly know we're here. Except when we push you to the edge of the bed so we can stretch our legs out right in the middle. You probably won't even know we're here.

So, can we? Huh? Canwecanwecanwecanwe?

SRSLY.

other driveways, other choices.

I've mentioned before that I'm living out here in the country, really. I'm at the western edge of a smallish town, and I enjoy the wacky country stripe of yard art which actually (in my opinion) was the true birth of recycling. One sees such things out here quite often. Imagine a row of upturned empty bleach bottles balanced on sticks, louvered vents cut into the sides and turned out, making said bleach bottles spin so gaily, so jauntily. And I've said before how much I love the inside-out tractor tire flower planters, especially when painted in easter-egg colors. Then there's those fun folk who collect disused appliances on the lawn. These always look particularly festive when and Esther Williams-esque array of chickens flap about the appliance maze, or mebbe a goat and a duck. *FUN*

I'm not one to spoil anyone's good time, but I'm having a spot of difficulty wrapping my brain around what possessed my neighbor last week. I knew something was up when they blocked off the horseshoe drive through their front yard. As I was leaving for work early Monday morning, that horseshoe drive appeared to be levitating-- they had painted it white. Now it seems to be glowing all the time, and sitting about 6 or 8 inches above the lawn.

Why? Were they perhaps signaling the mother ship?

Hmmm.

How he celebrates wanksgiving...

I'm sure Obama is as entitled as anyone to wax masturbatory over having his ugly mug on the cover of GQ, or Oprah! or whatever publication, and I'm sure The Royal Couple are thrifty enough to eschew the amount of staff required to keep the throne room stocked with fresh reading material, but...

What I want to know is what the frell is up with these melon-farming-ly ugly-arsed shoes? Wherever he is, it's cool enough to need a jacket, so (A) why's he wearing bloody sandals? and (B) if he must wear sandals, why wear some which from a distance look like the injection-molded plastic sandals favored by folks in LDNs* and famous in $1 and Under stores? Srsly?

In some bizarre twist, these prolly are $450 kidskin jobs from Givenchy.

How exotic! Did he get them in Rangoon? Hong Kong? Accra?
No. Barney's, New York.

*ugh*

On a brighter note, I confess I am enjoying a rather tasty vision of Michelle beating the tar out of him with one of these sandals.

On second thought, Barry- keep wearing them.

*lesser evolved nations

splinter 'splained. Or, health insurance for DUMMIES.

I haven't ranted lately, have I? Well, I heard about this story on the news and I'm hopping-mad. Hopping-mad, I tell you!

Cliff Notes Version:
Daughter goes to national park for girl scout gamboling, acquires 1" splinter in finger and mama and troop leader can't get the splinter out, so they take little lass to EMERGENCY ROOM. Mama is outraged that the bill is $800+. After the video bit, the addle-witted anchor babe tsk-tsks that this is why we need serious healthcare reform and we need it now.

The mother thought there would just be the $75 copay as set out by her insurance policy. I understand why someone might wrongly conclude this. However, there is the small matter of a deductible which had yet to be met. The article goes on to say that the hospital is now "going after" the mother for this outrageous (eye rolling here) bill.

Lady-- your kid is doomed and it's not because she gets 1" splinters. I and everyone I know ate 1" splinters for breakfast as kids. I have scars. Yeah, there may have been a couple things which should have been attended by a professional, but I walked a lot of that shit off and generally I'm pretty healthy. From the degree of drama with which your child described this incredibly painful splinter, it sounds like you lacked the mettle to pull the damn thing out when accompanied by the dissonant tones of your little lamb whimpering about the pain. Yes, splinters hurt, but a lot of things in life hurt and sometimes we simply have to deal with that fact. Unless this splinter was lodged in the bone, neosporin and a bandaid and a tetanus shot was most likely the extent of the medical care she required. Taking a kid to the ER for a splinter bespeaks a very misplaced sense of scale and gravity. Your child is doomed, Madam, because she was spawned by someone with the cognitive skills of a doorstop. You may be feeling vaguely insulted, but let me clear that up: I just said you are as dumb as a tater.

What is a copay? A copay is a flat fee for basic services. A $75 copay for a visit to the emergency room is pretty damned reasonable, if you ask me. Some policies have ER copays for ten times that amount. For your basic office visit to your doctor, you will often have a copay of $20 or $30, and for a straightforward visit, your insurance company pays the balance.

Why is an ER copay so high, in some cases? I'm SO glad you asked! Let's say your delightful bairns Jimmy and Suzy Q are playing in the toolshed. When Jimmy nails Suzy Q's left paw to her abdomen with an air hammer, we all love the comfort of knowing the good folks at the local ER have million$ in equipment and training sitting there just in case you might arrive with your little blood-spattered spoils *ahem* of poor parenting. LUCKY YOU-- they just happen to have a fully equipped ER with all them fancy lights and medicines and tools and stuff, et voila! Your little girl is the star of a lovely little ballet of scrubs and saline solution, replete with the satisfying *smack* of latex gloves. Bye the bye, you'll be wending your way back home with the clock counting down to your next little universe-shattering tragedy, but Suzy Q will be all patched up and no doubt adding to her grist mill for future therapy. In this case, your $75 would have been better-spent on a serious waltz down the pharmaceutical aisle at the local market and then you'd have enough left over to buy the whole troop some ice cream.

The reporter said removing the splinter is considered a surgery - how is that a surgery? Having skin tags or warts removed are considered surgeries. Having fluid drained from your knee is considered a surgery. Surgery is defined as the art, practice, or work of treating diseases, injuries, or deformities by manual or operative procedures. Yes, the removal of earwax is considered a surgery. Don't be so outraged, dear reporterette - you're supposed to be better-informed than this. Tsk. Tsk.

What is the point of having this insurance anyway, if I still have to pay that big ole' whopping deductible and copays and coinsurance? This is another question I'm so pleased you ask. You and I and everyone we know will most likely not have a catastrophic illness, condition or accident this year. However, the odds are that at some point over our lifetimes, such a tragedy will befall each of us or someone in our immediate family unit. An insurance group is a group of individuals who unite in the marketplace to combine their collective financial power to make sure that funds are available to each member of the group at their respective hours of need. Your copay is a basic fee up front for the providers. The out of pocket maximum is yet another way in which you contribute to your own care. When you use the in network providers your group contracts with, the providers have already agreed to accept lower rates for services and treatments, and this is a loss-leader for the provider, as they enjoy a tax write-off for funds not collected. Where you really benefit with your insurance is when you have the big problems. May you not be blessed to maximize such benefits, but it's very nice to know it's there if you need it.

As for the hospital "going after" the mother, most providers don't "go after"someone until they have ignored months of bills and requests for payments. At every stage of my life when I've had a medical bill which exceeded my means, I've asked to make payments, and providers have always been gracious about this. I made regular payments, as arranged, and was good on my word. This is one more great thing about Texas-- in Texas, even if you can only pay $5 a month on a medical bill, as long as you are making regular payments, you can not be turned over to a collection agency.

There's a lot of great information on the web about making the most of the incredible healthcare system we have access to in the United States. The best way to maximize our healthcare, though, is to not abuse the system over trivial (non-emergency) events, and to not point out such a silly event as evidence of healthcare billing run amok.

By walking through that emergency room door and demanding care, you are insisting on being treated by collective millions of dollars' worth of equipment and expertise, so don't whine if you have to pay a tiny drop in that bucket. It's a bit feckless to expect you should have no financial responsibility for showing up over a triviality.

Better yet, get a pair of tweezers and some alcohol, sweetie.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Rule of Good Form

I'm reading Going Postal by Terry Pratchett right now, and have been for a while. I don't get a lot of time for reading, and that's odd, considering I don't even watch television-- I'm just too busy, so I may read a few pages every night as I'm drifting off.

In brief, a condemned man is snatched from the maw of death at the gallows (La Femme Nikita-style) and given a second lease on life as the postmaster of a woefully inept postal system in Ankh-Morpork which has ground to a halt and is something of a joke. O'ertaken by a fit of industrial zeal, the new postmaster revamps and revitalizes the postal system. At least, that's how it is so far...

The funny thing is that so much of it is reminding me of my early days working for the US Postal Service. I really thought the letters were precious cargo, there being something sacrosanct with being entrusted their handling. It wouldn't be long before I felt that I was the only one under that roof with that sense of responsibility. Anyway, it seems naive and rather silly now, but I admit this book brings that back as a sort of bittersweet twinge. I'm wondering how this will end, but I do hope it does so happily, things being the way they ought and all. Being a Discworld book, there will no doubt be some strangeness, but hopefully a harmonic sort of strangeness, just the same.

Anyway, one thing I love about having moved out to a small, older town is that we have a proper post office here, one which is nearly 100 years old and is a grand structure on a relatively small scale. The floors and woodwork are immaculately kept, and all the solid brass fittings positively gleam. You can tell that a lot of pride and care went into the design of the structure, and that it has been impeccably attended by all the folks charged with its maintenance along the way. That's something you can't fake with a new, thrown-up-overnight structure that passes for our public buildings these days. The people who built this post office all those years ago took the purpose of the building very seriously. I wish we collectively took more things seriously these days. Instead, it seems like shopping mall/strip mall design is more an influence in the composition and form of public buildings. Such a pity. We've definitely lost something there. At least for me, in my beloved little Elsewhere, I can go into the Post Office and appreciate what it took to build and maintain that place. Well, not lost, entirely.
*************************************
For the first time since I began my job in May, I called in sick Tuesday, and will again today. Good thing, too. I went to a walk-in urgent care place, saw a physician's assistant, and they took some xrays. They told me I had a little inflammation in my lungs, but that I'd be fine with mostly over the counter stuff. About an hour later, they called me and said a radiologist looked at my films and that I have a mild case of pneumonia. Bugger. I'm on a zpac now, and hopefully that will knock this out. All in all, I have a lot to be thankful for, and for one, I'm thankful I found out about this before it reached the mandatory hospitalization stage. It's inconvenient and definitely putting a damper on my Christmas spending, but I'm just happy to be here. I'm happy just to be.
I hope everyone will have a happy Thanksgiving. :) I intend to.

Mr. Bean Takes An Oyster

Last week I picked up Mr. Bean Takes A Holiday for $9.99. The seafood spectacle is one of the funniest scenes on film, in my humble opinion.

Here's a tiny taste.



The rest of the oyster scene is side-splitting. Funny thing to me is that I love raw oysters, and even I can understand why they are such a repellent prospect to some folks. Mr. Bean shows why. I think that bit about the oyster moving around the shell in its death throes is a myth, though. Have never seen it, myself.

Babysitting How-To

Saturday I babysat the sprogs for dear friends while they went to the new queerwolf/fagpyre movie. They were very sweet, quite well-behaved and generally tended themselves. No limbs were lopped off and I'm calling that a win/win. The trick of good babysitting is knowing how much to allow them to self-manage. Of course, these kids are smart and not monstrous at all, so left to their own devices is not generally a bad thing in their case. I think I did rather well, don' t you?

Still sicky but I expect to make it in to work today. Feeling much better. My joints are aching like mad, but were much worse Saturday night. Have had a little fever here and there, but that's not been bad. No sneezing, but I do have some congestion in my lungs.

Someone has made me promise to go to the doctor if I'm not better soon, so hopefully that won't be necessary.

Sick Puppy... Saturday Night Fever edition

Meaning me.

Teh puppehs are happy as clams at high tide and fine as frog hair. This weekend we'll probably put a moratorium on the no pups on mama's good sheets rule, as I'm in need of little fur hot water bottles.

I think this is the flu. It stresses me out, and since the near-fatal bout with pneumonia a couple years ago, I'm frightened of any sniffle or illness-- I know what a slippery slope it such things can be. I had some amazing health insurance then and I don't now. This time, though, I know I won't have [content deleted on second thought] and I'm calling that a net win, whatever the outcome.

Will write again when I feel better. *ugh*

************************

er, just a quick little rant, mebbe.

Speaking of things purported to be unreasonably warm wot weren't: as the whole climategate thing unravels, I'm waiting to hear how Al Gore was knowingly, intrinsically tied to the deception, and all the while profiting from same.

Thank goodness he invented the internet, eh?

There. Feeling better already.

Dear Santa...

I've been terribly, terribly good all year.

Please bring me one Alien Abduction Lamp. I know I was trying to break with my neo-trashical tradition and have a more grown-up environment, but I just cain't quit kitsch. Me love this lamp long time.

KTHXBYE!

Lawdog Unplugged. er. Unleashed.

...and speaking of command performances...

Recently I was driving down the road with LawDog riding shotgun and listening to rock and roll radio.

The great thing about good times is that even songs you once thought were right crap sound good to you. Fortunately, most of the tracks on that station were good ones, songs I'd merrily howl along to in front of just about anyone. As the opening strains of Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap filled the air, I said "will you sing?" He shook his head and said "no tulips."

Such a tease. He then proceeded to sing about cyanide, TNT, high voltage and things too fierce to mention, sans tulips, tophat and pink gorilla suit. The audience was thrilled, I tell you. Thrilled.

Have you heard that saying about being careful what you wish for? Well, the shy singer finally brought round to singing is apparently hard to shut up.

Tole's kiddo was in a school concert recently, and out in the audience LawDog couldn't help singing along to the recurring ditties sung to the tune of On Top Of Old Smoky. I actually had to pinch him to get him to put a cork in it, and even then, he snuck in references to meatballs and cheese.

Sly dog.
Perhaps a duet?

Imogen Heap: adorable creature.

At the end of the Dallas show on Tuesday night, Imogen conducts the audience in a drone as she starts Hide And Seek. Thanks for the video, BlowFuzzy von Sassy. The video is not incredibly clear, but you can get an idea of what's going on in just under a minute.

One of the great things about her shows is that they are so full of life, so spontaneous. First song out of the box was "First Train Home" where she laid down her background track in loops of her voice and other instruments and she goofed and sang the bridge to the second chorus on the first verse. I saw her shake her head right after and when she completed her chorus with her looped audio, she said "I'm going to sing that verse until I get it right" and she started all over. Everyone laughed, and it was even better the second time. If you're running things and they are not overly-programmed, you can do that at the last minute. No Milli Vanilli here.

Her shows are delightful, and her stage banter is adorable. She prattles at the equipment, willing it to behave, and I always feel she's about to turn back to the stage with a big tarnished silver tray of mismatched dainty tea china and offer us all a cup. Quite fetching, she.

If you care to watch, here's another video someone else took Tuesday night of Headlock:

Plumb Tuckered Out.

Imogen Heap's show in Dallas was fantastic. Drove the 3 hours in to home tonight.

Will prattle excitedly RE: Miss Heap on the morrow. For now, I'm for bed then work in a scant few hours.



Though I doubt there are tickets left, Imogen is playing La Zona Rosa in Austin tonight. It's not the best venue, but it is spacious, and the show would be a delight in any venue.

Dueling moonbats.

Move over, Earth First. You've got some heavy competition in the looney stakes from the sensitive souls at Friends of the Moon. Apparently they had a bit under the moon over a NASA vehicle crashing into our most famous satellite, recently.

Considering how's we never see what's on the dark side of the moon, and seeing as how we're running out of storage bins for our crap, I think we're missing out on a real landfill opportunity up there.

***********************
In more fun news, tonight I'll mosey on over to see Imogen Heap at the Granada Theater in Dallas. YAYS!!!

I know. What was I thinking? I'm not a kid anymore. Drive 3 hours each way and no booze when I get there. Insanity.

S'gonna be fun, though, hanging out with sis and niece. Can't wait, actually.

Some day, none of these puppies will be mine...

but aren't they superb?

I do love little oddball backstroke boy. Whatever works, I suppose!

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: BIG YAWNZ...

COZ I R SLEEPY!

I will not take a puppy! I will not take a puppy! I will not take a puppy!

This weekend is so chock-full of schnitzel cuteness...

...that we have to have a Saturday, Puppy Saturday this week.

The baby wieners are getting a little more active, a little more feisty.

How sweet is this?

I will not take a puppy. I will not take a puppy. I will not take a puppy.

Barn-Dishing with the Farm Family

...and brandishing as well. *pow!* *pow!*

I'm not insinuating myself into the glory that was Blogorado-- this really happened.

I had a gun blogger party at my apartment in Dallas on January 31, and a lot of fabulous folks came. Peter asked me if I would mind having FarmGirl along to the party. Of course, I joined in the invitation and FarmGirl was a delightful addition to the party. By the end, FG was saying "do you think anyone would come if I had a blogger party?"

Absolutely.

I have to say FarmFamily really pulled out all the stops for us. Blogorado was a fantastic gathering and folks came from all over the country, so there was no question of the willingness of folks to show up to that relatively remote locale.

This whole post is by way of saying an enormous thank you to FarmGirl for planning this event, and to the whole FarmFamily for making it such a warm, memorable occasion.

FarmDad and aepilotJim and Old NFO set up the firing range. FarmDad is this incredibly resourceful fellow who has no end of talent. He made some toe-curlingly delectable salsa (I'll be going to Colorado for more one day soon) and he apparently can replace radiators and I've seen him operating heavy equipment. He is probably too self-effacing to say so, but I'd count him among the precious handful of true Renaissance men I've known in my life. Good man, he.

FarmMom is absolutely golden. There is a lovely golden light about her and I can think of many fine things to say, but among those is my highest praise of just about any person: she makes gravy that'd make you want to slap yer grandma. Actually, I wouldn't slap my grandma because my grandma made gravy just like that. I'm just saying that I believe gravy such as FarmMom's could bring about peace in our time. Her gravy is a work of art. I'm saying FarmMom needs to do a gravy blog. I'm completely objective about this: I know from good gravy. That was good gravy.

Wait. I'm slobbering. Back on track.

Anyway, FarmFamily is comprised of the kindest and best of folks, and I'm honored to have enjoyed their hospitality, and I hope to again, soon, and to return the compliment. I'm deeply grateful to be counted among your distinguished guests, and I thank you for your hospitality.


Cheers, m'dears!

Opportunity missed...

If we'd known, Ambulance Driver could have made some very nice redneck art with his buck butt Sunday night.

Deer Butt Alien Head art is just good clean fun for the whole family. You can get helpful how-tos over here at The Discriminating Explorer.

Driving away from the range at Blogorado, a large buck played havoc with Ambulance Driver's radiator. Since the state wouldn't let him keep the very front end, he might at least have come home with a very inviting door bell holster rendered from the opposite pole.

I rilly want one of these!

My favorite deer carcass crafting tip from the website: Make sure to tie-off the hiney hole.

Charmed!

Speaking of proper disposition of a carcass - I have a brilliant photo of a Sawz-all in action, but it's mebbe too grisly for public display. I wonder if Sarah Brady has a problem with Sawz-alls? A mighty handy tool, imho. Ya gotta love hanging out with well -equipped people.

*****************************

Speaking of charms, this little beaut which belongs to Old NFO was utterly slobber-worthy, don't you agree? Love those grips.

*le sigh*

The big winners for me this weekend were the Colt's Python. I shot one belonging to Old NFO (he has the coolest stuff!) and learned I was right to be so smitten with those things. A Python will remain at the very top of my list of must-haves. Then there was FarmMom's Taurus Judge. I shot the .45 and the .410 shotgun shells from it. FarmMom assures me there's no more satisfying or immediate way of dispatching slithering things. Blasting away at a waterbottle, I was in paroxysms of giddiness seeing a pizza-sized bounce of rocks, soil and pebbles - pretty spectacular.

There's more still to tell, not the least of which will be a post soon in which I'll wax euphoric over FarmMom's cooking (blog, FarmMom, blog!) and of FarmGirl and FarmDad and the whole FarmFamily's gracious hospitality and pure-dee party magic. Will try to do that tomorrow.

Silly Dinosaur!

Leaving town late Friday meant we stopped overnight in Amarillo, which was fine with me. I love Amarillo. We managed to get a few snaps of Stanley Marsh 3's kooky signs around town- always a treat. We'll have to go see the Ramses Legs on highway 27 next time.

Give it up, Dino.

LawDog will give you indigestion. Then he'll cut and shoot his way out of your belly. Srsly. [yes, I know this stripe of dino was herbivorous. Don't spoil my fun.]

On the way up to Blogorado from Amarillo, we stopped at the Cimarron Heritage Museum in Boise City, Oklahoma, having been drawn by this lovely actual-size critter.. We were in a bit of a hurry, but we've made a mental note to stop back through - they've got lots of great stuff to look at there- lots of ephemera from the pioneer days.

Fun stuff.

More to come.

Nut Up or Shut Up

I've got a week's worth of posts in me on the trip up to Blogorado as well as the event itself.

I'm back home in Elsewhere, however, and I am too tired to post much today, so this will have to do.

As you may know, Ambulance Driver hit a large buck on the way from the range Sunday night as we were heading over to FarmFamily's house for dinner. The night before, FarmMom had fried up some appetizers for everyone, and I took one and ate it. Chewy. Springy, even. Hmm. Interesting texture and flavour. Turns out you don't have to go all the way into the Rocky Mountains to sample one of their variety of oyster. They weren't bad, just a little odd. Maybe with a creamy garlic sauce?

Anyhoo, when that lovely buck was lying on the road, I thought his, uh, prognosticles looked soft, furry, so I decided to see for myself.

"Stop abusing that poor dead animal!" someone exhorted in mock outrage.

"I'm not abusing it, I'm respecting it. You must respect the buck nuts" I said in mock reverence. Having eaten another animal's ball the night before, there seemed a toothsome symmetry to fondling this other pair. Book-endish, even. Anyhoo - Christina took a picture.

Anyway, that's prolly the most dull thing you could hear about Blogorado, but tonight, it's all I can give.

Happy Birthday and Thank you to the Marines

And a personal thanks to Steve for his service. I'm proud of you.

Blogorado totally PWNS Broad Ripple action.

If, driving between venues in Broad Ripple blogmeets you should happen to run over a local, you will have a mangled bicycle in your grille and a lot of paperwork with the local authorities and bad feeling with the local hippies.

After hitting a local resident between venues at Blogorado, we have backstrap.

I'm just sayin'...

[addendum - This was not intended as a slight to Broad Ripple, which is a gathering I would dearly love to attend my ownself, but merely to portray the goes-to-11 degree of ossumness that was Blogorado. I have to say that Blogorado totally PWNS the two gunblogger gatherings, I hosted, as well. Farmfamily is uniquely positioned and resourceful to put together an event which few could hope to parallel in any degree. They really hit it out of the park. More on that, soon.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Pupcake!

Poor, exploited pup.

So innocent and pure.

His mama misses him.

We've already done the beefcake version. This here's Pupcake.

Bela Lugosi's Dead - Ukelele Style

Gus and Fin are at it again.

If, like me, your teenaged self oozed unctuously around town, too cool for the room, styling to Bauhaus' doom-crooning hit, then you'll love this version.

White on white

translucent black capes

back from the rack...
red velvet lines
the black box...

Oh, the drama!


Clever boys.

Off to a late start...

Life intervened and I'm launching late out of Elsewhere. What bums me is that I'll be driving through my beloved Panhandle after dark. I love the rugged countryside out there. Stirring.

I talked to Farmgirl last night and to Christina tonight, and it sounds as though things at Blogorado are already, well, colorful.

*ahem*

Sounds like a hoot. I can't wait to get there for some shooty goodness. I'm bringing my .22 Browning rifle and also some super collibri for lots of Calamity Phlegm style shooty goodness.

Mm mm good, indeed.
Gotta go paint my nails. Laters.

What kind of bloggery is this?

In which Our Heroine engages in the dropping of the names and other, show-offy sorts of behaviours...

After work today, I'm off to Blogorado where, yeah, I'll be hanging out with FarmGirl and her guests who'll include Atomic Nerds, Breda, Matt G & JPG, Ambulance Driver, Snarky, Christina, AEPilotJim, OldNFO, SnarkyBytes, at least one mystery surprise guest, someone with a .50 cal in tow, and Buck and Roy and the whole Hee Haw gang. And LawDog. Did I mention LawDog? I love mentioning LawDog. Sorely missed will be Peter, who's still on the mend, alas, and Hols who would've added that Southern Belle quality to the occasion which I so love. *le sigh*

FarmFamily killed the fatted calf. Om nom nom.
We're gonna shoot stuff and eat lots of dead cow. Good times!

Facèré Jewelry Art Gallery

Since Zozza closed in Dallas, Facèré is my favorite jewelry store in the US. I've been there one time when visiting friends in Seattle.

I'm loving the gold and blackened steel jewelry by this artist, Peg Fetter--particularly the simple steel rings with the gold wrap.
Find more photos like this on crafthaus


I'm thrilled by the trophy giraffe brooch here, for some reason. This may mean I'm unwell in some way. Cute!

I'm thinking I may need to reward myself sometime in the future... note to self.

Great stuff...

Pupdate: fresh from the wiener factory.

Daisy has resigned herself to the fact that she's going to need help with all those little bairns, and so after the first couple days' standoffishness, she started bringing the pups one by one to Sis for inspection, apparently.

I's hard to believe this little roundy-snouted beast will one day have a long-and-pointy countenance, but such is the nature of puppydom, eh? What pretty little things they be. :)

Here's to puppy breath and all that baby softness! Here's to still being in the stage in which Mama dog cleans up after them.

Hey dad- this'll make you laugh!

Have a Brock Samson kind of day.

Zombie season is here...

I don't know about you, but I never liked the straightforward horror films so much, but the bad-pun fests that were Army of Darkness and its ilk made me squeal with delight.

In that tradition, we now have Zombieland, which is one of the best howlfests I've seen in ages. This weekend I squandered that extra hour giggling maniacally at this movie. What makes it even better is that the Woody Harrelson (I've never liked him until this film) is a made-over former neighbor of mine, one my niece and I called Chomp-Chomp Cowboy.

Funny stuff. See this film. For one thing, it'll make you think: in a post-apocalyptic world, Twinkie extinction is a real problem, and I expect Moon Pies would not be far behind, alas. Turns out there is something to be said for being taken out in the first wave. I don't care what they say I won't stay in a world without Moon Pies.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Baby Wieners!

My sister's mini Dachsie, Daisy, had six baby wieners Friday morning.

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

I will not take a puppy.

I will not take a puppy.

I will not take a puppy.

Probably not.

Most likely not.

DEFINITELY not.

I don't need a puppy.

I won't be taking one.

I'm told I don't need one.

I probably won't.