Slouchy came up with a fascinating meme over at her place. She says "I stole this meme from the lovely Schmutzie. It's an interesting little personality test, I think. Type just one letter (a, then b, then c, etc.) into your computer's internet address field. What is then suggested to you is the site (starting with that letter) that you've viewed most often."
I didn't read the instructions carefully enough, and typed the alphabet into my Google search box. Equally interesting results. I use Mozilla Firefox, so when I retried using Slouchy's parameters, I came up with the site that has the letter 'a' in it most often. But the Google search window showed me some very strange sites; I finally figured out that my daughter, son-in-law and the grandson of friends had all been using the search engine. Anyway, here are the search box results, also an interesting personality test.
A = audrey hepburn movie lists
B = brian hughes toronto star
C = canadian bronze figure skating medal
D = disaster in haiti
E = effect of hst in ontario
F = farenheit to celcius
G = golden lads and girls all must
H = how to get hst rebates ontario
I = ice grips for shoes uk
J = jewish calendar
K = kate mcgarrigle
L = little black dresses
M = moguls olympics
N = natural disaster in haiti
O = oregon coastal highway
P = pirate bay
Q = quotes
R = rumer godden books
S = saaq
T = tom brokaw canada
U = urban dictionary
V = voles in ontario
W = washington state tourism info
X = xs cargo
Y = youtube
Z = zero punctuation
Come up with your own explanations of who went where and why.
Showing posts with label meme. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meme. Show all posts
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
Friday, 30 October 2009
Another Book Meme
This one is all over the place - and I love it.
1) You are facing an epic journey. You may choose one companion, one tool and one vehicle from any book or film to accompany you. Or just one of the three. It's up to you. What do you choose?
As companion I'd take Paksanarrion from Elizabeth Moon's The Deed of Paksanarrion. As tool, Bilbo's sword, Sting. The vehicle, Ozma's magic carpet. And I'm off to fairy lands forlorn.
2) You can escape to the insides of any book. Where do you go, and why?
I go to the Lord of the Rings. It is beautifully written, its detail and scope for the imagination is immense and it pulls you into yourself, away from your troubles or boring tasks.
3) You can bring one literary character into your current life. Whom do you choose, and why?
Nicholas vander Poele from Dorothy Dunnett's series about thirteenth century Europe. No matter what viccisitudes he undergoes Niccolò is always tremendous fun and a good companion.
4) Jane Austen's Persuasion is my go-to book. It's like a snow globe, a tiny world in which everything glows.
5) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most enviable?
Nancy, in Arthur Ransome's series about the Swallows and the Amazons. Your own sailing dinghy? A beautiful lake? Nirvana.
6) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most frightening?
I don't remember ever being frightened by a book or film character. But I was made into a puddle of terror by a radio program called 'The Creaking Door', a program that featured half hour horror stories. I still recall one in which the protagonist was turned into a madman by a diet of fish; I faintly dislike eating fish to this day.
7) Every time I re-read L. M. Montogomery's edited Diaries I see something in them that I haven’t seen before. These books are a record of a transition period in the position of women in the first half of the twentieth century and are, in addition, a riveting story.
8) It is imperative that Diana Gabaldon's the Outlander be made into a movie. Sex! Sword Fights! Scotland!
9)is a book that should never be made (or should have never been made) into a film.
Can't do this one. Too many choices!
10) After all these years, Nevil Shute's On The Beach still manages to give me the queebs.
11) After all these years, Bronte's Jane Eyre still manages to give me a thrill. 'Reader, I married him.' Priceless.
12) If I could corner the author Rosemary Kierstein, here’s what I’d say to her in one minute or less about her books:
Finish the series before I explode!
13) The coolest non-fiction book I’ve ever read is Darwin's The Voyage of the Beagle. Every time I flip through it, it makes me want to go and retrace his journey.
1) You are facing an epic journey. You may choose one companion, one tool and one vehicle from any book or film to accompany you. Or just one of the three. It's up to you. What do you choose?
As companion I'd take Paksanarrion from Elizabeth Moon's The Deed of Paksanarrion. As tool, Bilbo's sword, Sting. The vehicle, Ozma's magic carpet. And I'm off to fairy lands forlorn.
2) You can escape to the insides of any book. Where do you go, and why?
I go to the Lord of the Rings. It is beautifully written, its detail and scope for the imagination is immense and it pulls you into yourself, away from your troubles or boring tasks.
3) You can bring one literary character into your current life. Whom do you choose, and why?
Nicholas vander Poele from Dorothy Dunnett's series about thirteenth century Europe. No matter what viccisitudes he undergoes Niccolò is always tremendous fun and a good companion.
4) Jane Austen's Persuasion is my go-to book. It's like a snow globe, a tiny world in which everything glows.
5) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most enviable?
Nancy, in Arthur Ransome's series about the Swallows and the Amazons. Your own sailing dinghy? A beautiful lake? Nirvana.
6) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most frightening?
I don't remember ever being frightened by a book or film character. But I was made into a puddle of terror by a radio program called 'The Creaking Door', a program that featured half hour horror stories. I still recall one in which the protagonist was turned into a madman by a diet of fish; I faintly dislike eating fish to this day.
7) Every time I re-read L. M. Montogomery's edited Diaries I see something in them that I haven’t seen before. These books are a record of a transition period in the position of women in the first half of the twentieth century and are, in addition, a riveting story.
8) It is imperative that Diana Gabaldon's the Outlander be made into a movie. Sex! Sword Fights! Scotland!
9)is a book that should never be made (or should have never been made) into a film.
Can't do this one. Too many choices!
10) After all these years, Nevil Shute's On The Beach still manages to give me the queebs.
11) After all these years, Bronte's Jane Eyre still manages to give me a thrill. 'Reader, I married him.' Priceless.
12) If I could corner the author Rosemary Kierstein, here’s what I’d say to her in one minute or less about her books:
Finish the series before I explode!
13) The coolest non-fiction book I’ve ever read is Darwin's The Voyage of the Beagle. Every time I flip through it, it makes me want to go and retrace his journey.
Friday, 23 October 2009
Dancing in my Pants
Alejna at Collecting Tokens has tagged me for the Music in my Pants meme. Gulp. Here is how you play:
If you want to join in, the game is played thusly: set your iPod to shuffle, and make a note of the songs that come up. Append the phrase “in my pants.” As many songs as you choose.
The meme is causing me difficulties because, while I do have an IPod (and me a senior citizen, too) what I use it for is to practice line dancing. Accordingly, the play list is somewhat specialized, although I do have some other music on there with which to warm up and cool down. When I started sorting out the titles I wanted to use, I realized that this could be rather misunderstood. However, here they are.
Tonight I'll be lonely too, in my pants.
Take me home country roads, in my pants.
Ho Ro Mo Nighean Down Bhóidheach, in my pants.
Rant and Roar, in my pants.
This is it, in my pants.
Better than knowing where you are, in my pants.
Rise Again, in my pants.
Um, I think I had better leave it like that.
On the other hand, we do dance to a song called 'Make love to me'. Without the pants, please.
Thursday, 20 August 2009
True Days
Chani has a very moving post up - about saying the truth and being the 'real you'. Also links to another blog that inspired her. She is suggesting that people who want to do some soul searching with support might wish to put 'True Day' in the title of a post about their authentic feelings about something.
I have a neat little sketch that might make a 'button'. It is this. It is by William Thakeray, called 'Vanity' and I believe it is public domaine.
I have a neat little sketch that might make a 'button'. It is this. It is by William Thakeray, called 'Vanity' and I believe it is public domaine.
Saturday, 6 June 2009
Jessica at Daysgoby gave me this award:
she's certainly a model recipient for it herself."This award is given to the writers of blogs that “are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”
I am blushing all over, and am now busy contemplating the eight super people to whom I will pass it on. As to the order, that is how they came up in my Google Reader. And they are in my reader because I love what they write and because they are transparent and funny and kind, dedicated readers as well as writers, just plain good folk. Please go and see for yourself.
First off, to Wherever Ewe Go, There Ewe Are, a transplanted American mom living in Scotland and the best darn blogger at writing dialogue for photos that you could imagine. Right now she and her family are waiting, with bated breath, for the arrival of a daughter.
Tere at A Mom, A Blog and the Life In-between, who has just looked at herself in the mirror and found that she looks good in a bathing suit. Marvellous! Tere can be both self-analytical and funny as hell, sometimes both at the same time. And am I ever jealous of the bathing suit thing.
Mary Murtz at The Eleventh. She is an eleventh child, a wonderful humourous, dedicated writer who is always fun to read. Even when she is having a bad, bad day, she lives it with elan and charity.
Bon at Crib Chronicles. If Bon is upset or frightened or worn out or happy or elated, you know it and what she writes conveys her emotions so, so well. She is also both smart and funny and some of the topics she discusses will really make you think.
Karen at A Day in the Life. How can you not love a person whose header includes 'pull up a chair and stay for a while' and whose descriptions of life with the kids can make you spray wine all over your computer screen.
Anvil Cloud at Raindrops. The most dementedly devoted grandpa still standing, and a wonderfully descriptive sharer of his life and preoccupations. And he calls his wife 'Cuppa'. Got to love that.
Yikes, I've only got two more.
Kaye at The Road Goes Ever, Ever On. She's just a sweetie and is finding her blogging voice beautifully. She's also an artist and a genius with her hands. And she loves LOTR -- as do I. Bonded. Just like that.
Painted Maypole. This hugely generous lady hosts the Monday Missions, scouts for causes that need contributions, runs a home and deals with the May Queen and is an actor on top of all that. Unbelievable. And wonderful. And thoughtful - she can make you think about drama and laugh while you are doing it.
I only have another 48 people that I need to tell you about. I have to obey the rules, you say? Oh, okay. But I would be delighted to share my Reader list -- I love the whole bunch of them a whole lot. And if you want the button, I would be delighted to share.
Friday, 27 July 2007
We're a Lot Alike
There's a meme going around that asks for a list of ten ways that you and your child are alike. It's a fun read. I'm going to twist it a bit, though.
Yesterday JG and I took our younger daughter out for her first ride in our new fishing boat, a 19 footer with a fairly powerful four stroke engine, huge for a family that started out with a canoe, progressed to a skiff with two oars and thence to a 12' aluminum boat with a 12 hp motor. We've moved to the bigger boat so that we can handle the Rideau Canal system, most often the series of the three Rideau lakes which are big enough that a strong breeze puts up quite a chop, enough to have made us very nervous in the smaller craft.
Anyway, yesterday was sunny and hot and the YD had a day off so we launched ourselves off into lower Rideau with the plan of putting up to Westport for lunch, having a swim and getting YD back to the dock in time for her to make the city for a late dinner party. The YD and I were dressed in bathing suits, slathering each other in sunscreen, and her father was in long pants, sleeved shirt and one patch of zinc cream on his nose. It was gorgeous on the water -- one of the hazy summer days that memory insists entire summers were made of, long ago. But there was a good stiff breeze up and enough chop that we couldn't spot any loons.
The YD has only been upstream on the Rideau Lakes once, so she was bowled over by the opulence of the cottages and homes that line the shore pretty well everywhere except the Provincial Park at Murphy's Point. Some of the buildings are manicured mansions, with rock gardens, pots of flowers on the docks and two or three expensive power boats and Seadoos moored at massively hardened shoreline walls. Others are almost hidden in trees and look more like old fashioned summer places; the YD did a running evaluation of the ones she liked. Even the islands have cottages and those are the ones I covet. First point of difference with the YD who believes that the motor noises of passing boats would drive her demented. But there are a lot we would both love to have. Except for the fishermen, we had the lake pretty well to ourselves and could dawdle along looking everything over.
It always puzzles me that there are not more sail boats -- we see a fair number of them moored but on a perfect sailing day we only saw two out taking advantage of it. There were some power boats pulling inflatable rafts with squealing kiddies in them, however. This seems to be the latest fad and to have replaced the water skiers almost entirely. No jet boats, thanks be. When the YD and I both said that we could not see the fun in the wretched things, JG answered that it's a guy thing. Power! Speed! Noise! As for us, we ride in the motor boat because JG loves it and the best thing about this new one is that it has the quietest motor I have ever known.
When we got to the lock at the Narrows, we lucked into perfect timing as the downstream gate was just opening. The YD hopped out and volunteered to help the lockmaster wind the gate shut, then trotted up to help lift the sluices at the upper end. After that she read all the information boards and chatted to the lock staff, returning just in time to cast off and exit the lock. I am a talk-to-people person, but the YD is even more open. I used to call her 'little friend to all the world' as a small child. She meets everyone with the cheerful assumption that they will respond in kind to a friendly approach and they almost always do. Her blue eyes sparkle, she has an infectious smile and obviously really wants to know the answer to all the questions she eagerly asks. She also speaks her mind -- life has worn me into a more tactful approach, but I often will find myself agreeing with her. We exited to grins and waves and expressions of thanks.
JG was tasked to find us a swimming spot after lunch: deep and in a rocky bay was the YD's stipulation. He tried to locate a lee shore, but his pick ended up in pretty choppy water and the depth finder showed 180', too deep for our anchor rope. So I rolled off and the YD dived off and JG circled while we swam. It was wonderful to be in the water but it was a bit of a problem to swim in it. This was my first swim off this boat as I was not sure I could manage the step and platform re-entry and wanted a helper for my first try. We ended up chasing the boat a bit to get back to it, and I was pretty glad to get my hands on the platform. Getting up was a bit dicey, with my sadly unbendable arthritic knee, but I managed and the YD did a second dive (managing to soak her father in the process) and a second climb back in to assess the difficulty and coach me a bit more. Then we sat and dripped happily for a bit until JG decided that it was time for the YD to drive.
This was hilarious. There were a good number of big boats out by this time so there were a lot of wakes and, with the wind, there were cross waves and it was not the easiest steering job. Whenever we hit a higher than usual line of wash, the YD would wail as she tried to maneuver us through, the wail rising in pitch as we thumped down too hard. Each boat that appeared in front of us elicited a harried series of 'What do I do now's from the YD as she tried to judge her course to pass them. The shrieks and queries were accompanied by an increasingly big grin as her mastery of the task increased. I sat back and loved every minute of this, as the wails and worries expressed exactly how I feel when I have to drive, except that I would be thinking them and not saying them out loud quite as much.
'Dad, he's headed right AT us! What do I do now?'
'Just alter a little to the right, and he should do the same,' says Dad very calmly. 'He's still a long way away.'
'Eep', says daughter, knuckles white on the wheel.
Well worth the price of admission.
We got her back to the dock at exactly the time stipulated, but she waited to see JG drive the boat up onto the trailer, which he did in style with her watching, of course.
I think she had fun, but I know I did.
Yesterday JG and I took our younger daughter out for her first ride in our new fishing boat, a 19 footer with a fairly powerful four stroke engine, huge for a family that started out with a canoe, progressed to a skiff with two oars and thence to a 12' aluminum boat with a 12 hp motor. We've moved to the bigger boat so that we can handle the Rideau Canal system, most often the series of the three Rideau lakes which are big enough that a strong breeze puts up quite a chop, enough to have made us very nervous in the smaller craft.
Anyway, yesterday was sunny and hot and the YD had a day off so we launched ourselves off into lower Rideau with the plan of putting up to Westport for lunch, having a swim and getting YD back to the dock in time for her to make the city for a late dinner party. The YD and I were dressed in bathing suits, slathering each other in sunscreen, and her father was in long pants, sleeved shirt and one patch of zinc cream on his nose. It was gorgeous on the water -- one of the hazy summer days that memory insists entire summers were made of, long ago. But there was a good stiff breeze up and enough chop that we couldn't spot any loons.
The YD has only been upstream on the Rideau Lakes once, so she was bowled over by the opulence of the cottages and homes that line the shore pretty well everywhere except the Provincial Park at Murphy's Point. Some of the buildings are manicured mansions, with rock gardens, pots of flowers on the docks and two or three expensive power boats and Seadoos moored at massively hardened shoreline walls. Others are almost hidden in trees and look more like old fashioned summer places; the YD did a running evaluation of the ones she liked. Even the islands have cottages and those are the ones I covet. First point of difference with the YD who believes that the motor noises of passing boats would drive her demented. But there are a lot we would both love to have. Except for the fishermen, we had the lake pretty well to ourselves and could dawdle along looking everything over.
It always puzzles me that there are not more sail boats -- we see a fair number of them moored but on a perfect sailing day we only saw two out taking advantage of it. There were some power boats pulling inflatable rafts with squealing kiddies in them, however. This seems to be the latest fad and to have replaced the water skiers almost entirely. No jet boats, thanks be. When the YD and I both said that we could not see the fun in the wretched things, JG answered that it's a guy thing. Power! Speed! Noise! As for us, we ride in the motor boat because JG loves it and the best thing about this new one is that it has the quietest motor I have ever known.
When we got to the lock at the Narrows, we lucked into perfect timing as the downstream gate was just opening. The YD hopped out and volunteered to help the lockmaster wind the gate shut, then trotted up to help lift the sluices at the upper end. After that she read all the information boards and chatted to the lock staff, returning just in time to cast off and exit the lock. I am a talk-to-people person, but the YD is even more open. I used to call her 'little friend to all the world' as a small child. She meets everyone with the cheerful assumption that they will respond in kind to a friendly approach and they almost always do. Her blue eyes sparkle, she has an infectious smile and obviously really wants to know the answer to all the questions she eagerly asks. She also speaks her mind -- life has worn me into a more tactful approach, but I often will find myself agreeing with her. We exited to grins and waves and expressions of thanks.
JG was tasked to find us a swimming spot after lunch: deep and in a rocky bay was the YD's stipulation. He tried to locate a lee shore, but his pick ended up in pretty choppy water and the depth finder showed 180', too deep for our anchor rope. So I rolled off and the YD dived off and JG circled while we swam. It was wonderful to be in the water but it was a bit of a problem to swim in it. This was my first swim off this boat as I was not sure I could manage the step and platform re-entry and wanted a helper for my first try. We ended up chasing the boat a bit to get back to it, and I was pretty glad to get my hands on the platform. Getting up was a bit dicey, with my sadly unbendable arthritic knee, but I managed and the YD did a second dive (managing to soak her father in the process) and a second climb back in to assess the difficulty and coach me a bit more. Then we sat and dripped happily for a bit until JG decided that it was time for the YD to drive.
This was hilarious. There were a good number of big boats out by this time so there were a lot of wakes and, with the wind, there were cross waves and it was not the easiest steering job. Whenever we hit a higher than usual line of wash, the YD would wail as she tried to maneuver us through, the wail rising in pitch as we thumped down too hard. Each boat that appeared in front of us elicited a harried series of 'What do I do now's from the YD as she tried to judge her course to pass them. The shrieks and queries were accompanied by an increasingly big grin as her mastery of the task increased. I sat back and loved every minute of this, as the wails and worries expressed exactly how I feel when I have to drive, except that I would be thinking them and not saying them out loud quite as much.
'Dad, he's headed right AT us! What do I do now?'
'Just alter a little to the right, and he should do the same,' says Dad very calmly. 'He's still a long way away.'
'Eep', says daughter, knuckles white on the wheel.
Well worth the price of admission.
We got her back to the dock at exactly the time stipulated, but she waited to see JG drive the boat up onto the trailer, which he did in style with her watching, of course.
I think she had fun, but I know I did.
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Eight Things Meme
Momnos (Mom - Not Otherwise Specified) just did the eight things meme and left it open for anyone who hadn't done it. I must be one of the few.
So, first the housekeeping. The rules of this meme are:1. Let others know who tagged you.2. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.3. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.4. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.
1.) I'm walking around on ground glass crumbs today. I have a nice home office out of which I run a part time graphics business and on the wall, until today, hung a beautiful picture my daughter gave me that was mounted expensively behind no glare glass. A big picture. This morning it fell off the wall. I crab walked around and picked up the big pieces, causing my back to tie itself into a knot in the process, vacuumed, revacuumed and came back to my computer. After all this, the first time I stepped onto the tiles in the hall, my moccasins made scraping noises. I will have to revacuum again and then wet mop as this is where the four year old Little Stuff hangs out when she stays with us. I am not happy.
2.) I do a lot of graphics stuff as a volunteer and today I should be doing posters and a press release for a raffle. Since the husband is away, I spent the morning blogging instead. Minus glass shard time, see above. My husband does not know I have a blog, although he knows I am doing something for more time than he wants me to spend at the computer. If I told him, he would be very caustic about it and I am not ready to put up with this, just yet. I'm not sure whether this is a 'discretion is the better part of valour' decision or just plain cowardice. JG being caustic is not a one off item.
3.) I love science fiction and fantasy. JG thinks it is a waste of time and tells me so. Often. Also sods law is often in operation because I do read worthy tomes but the one he asks me about usually has a dragon in it somewhere. I can get through a book a day and haunt my local libraries, buy books on-line and hang out in used bookstores, looking for the good stuff. Next to sci fi I love historical fiction. And next to that, juicy and salacious biography as long as Kitty Kelly didn't write it. And I hate, hate (hate!) to throw out books.
4.) I talk too much. If you were to meet me in person, within a very short time I would be chatting away, making jokes and telling you things about myself and my family. If you share an elevator with me, I will strike up a conversation if you so much as look at me and grunt. But what I talk about is all silly, surface stuff. You would have to know me a long time before you found out what I really think about much of anything serious. Point one about the glass is a pretty good example of the persiflage with which I inundate all and sundry. Strangely enough, if they can break in long enough, people tend to tell me secret things about themselves and talk about things that trouble them.
5.) Country music, yes. Also folk music. And some classical music -- Handel, for instance. I despised the Beatles whose early career took place while I was a young mother, didn't think much of Elvis (yeah, I'm that old!) and don't have any tolerance for singers whose words I can't interpret. The folk music thing was really big while JG and I were undergraduates and I learned the words to a great many obscure songs: the Eddystone Light, for instance. Tom Lehrer. I have the kind of trick memory that retains verse, lyrics and aphorisms. Don't ask me about the car keys, my passport or my daughters' phone numbers. And I can't sing. This is really sad as the rest of my family can, and they suffer while I murder Christmas carols, but they need me to get past the second verse of anything. It's nice to be needed.
6.) I'm on my third wedding ring. Same husband, but three rings. The first one got too small, so I stored it in my jewellery case with my mother's. They both got stolen. I have seldom felt more violated. JG bought me a bigger ring, with carving on it, for our 25th anniversary. I had to have that one cut off when I sprained my finger and so I got the jeweller to put a hinge and click clasp on it. Last year I was digging out shoots and weeding and somewhere in the yard it unclicked and I lost it. I am now wearing JG's, since he doesn't, but I had to have it enlarged to get it on. Arthritis.
7.) The only sport I'm any good at is swimming. I love to swim. I love the feel of the water gliding along my body, the buoyancy, the layers of different temperature. I love swimming in the ocean best, lakes in summer next and pools least. Chlorine, yuck. I love scuba diving where you seem to fly over an alien world, free from gravity and sound, living in an extra dimension. I love watching surf roll onto a rocky shore, smelling the scent of salt water and feeling the pound of the waves as they break. I love body-surfing when the water takes you and hurls you forward in a burst of foam and cold. I love water. Sometimes I wish I had gills.
8.) I'm a procrastinator. Big time. I started doing the weekly laundry at 7:30 this morning and right now there is a huge basket waiting to go out onto the line and if I don't get it out there soon it won't dry. The reason it all has to go out together is hummingbirds. They love to sit on the clothesline, and where they sits, they poops. So the clothes have to be out for as short a time as possible. But they need to go out. Right. Now.
They're out. I'm posting and I'm out of here. Oh, if there is anyone left who hasn't done this thing, Tag!, you're it.
So, first the housekeeping. The rules of this meme are:1. Let others know who tagged you.2. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.3. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.4. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.
1.) I'm walking around on ground glass crumbs today. I have a nice home office out of which I run a part time graphics business and on the wall, until today, hung a beautiful picture my daughter gave me that was mounted expensively behind no glare glass. A big picture. This morning it fell off the wall. I crab walked around and picked up the big pieces, causing my back to tie itself into a knot in the process, vacuumed, revacuumed and came back to my computer. After all this, the first time I stepped onto the tiles in the hall, my moccasins made scraping noises. I will have to revacuum again and then wet mop as this is where the four year old Little Stuff hangs out when she stays with us. I am not happy.
2.) I do a lot of graphics stuff as a volunteer and today I should be doing posters and a press release for a raffle. Since the husband is away, I spent the morning blogging instead. Minus glass shard time, see above. My husband does not know I have a blog, although he knows I am doing something for more time than he wants me to spend at the computer. If I told him, he would be very caustic about it and I am not ready to put up with this, just yet. I'm not sure whether this is a 'discretion is the better part of valour' decision or just plain cowardice. JG being caustic is not a one off item.
3.) I love science fiction and fantasy. JG thinks it is a waste of time and tells me so. Often. Also sods law is often in operation because I do read worthy tomes but the one he asks me about usually has a dragon in it somewhere. I can get through a book a day and haunt my local libraries, buy books on-line and hang out in used bookstores, looking for the good stuff. Next to sci fi I love historical fiction. And next to that, juicy and salacious biography as long as Kitty Kelly didn't write it. And I hate, hate (hate!) to throw out books.
4.) I talk too much. If you were to meet me in person, within a very short time I would be chatting away, making jokes and telling you things about myself and my family. If you share an elevator with me, I will strike up a conversation if you so much as look at me and grunt. But what I talk about is all silly, surface stuff. You would have to know me a long time before you found out what I really think about much of anything serious. Point one about the glass is a pretty good example of the persiflage with which I inundate all and sundry. Strangely enough, if they can break in long enough, people tend to tell me secret things about themselves and talk about things that trouble them.
5.) Country music, yes. Also folk music. And some classical music -- Handel, for instance. I despised the Beatles whose early career took place while I was a young mother, didn't think much of Elvis (yeah, I'm that old!) and don't have any tolerance for singers whose words I can't interpret. The folk music thing was really big while JG and I were undergraduates and I learned the words to a great many obscure songs: the Eddystone Light, for instance. Tom Lehrer. I have the kind of trick memory that retains verse, lyrics and aphorisms. Don't ask me about the car keys, my passport or my daughters' phone numbers. And I can't sing. This is really sad as the rest of my family can, and they suffer while I murder Christmas carols, but they need me to get past the second verse of anything. It's nice to be needed.
6.) I'm on my third wedding ring. Same husband, but three rings. The first one got too small, so I stored it in my jewellery case with my mother's. They both got stolen. I have seldom felt more violated. JG bought me a bigger ring, with carving on it, for our 25th anniversary. I had to have that one cut off when I sprained my finger and so I got the jeweller to put a hinge and click clasp on it. Last year I was digging out shoots and weeding and somewhere in the yard it unclicked and I lost it. I am now wearing JG's, since he doesn't, but I had to have it enlarged to get it on. Arthritis.
7.) The only sport I'm any good at is swimming. I love to swim. I love the feel of the water gliding along my body, the buoyancy, the layers of different temperature. I love swimming in the ocean best, lakes in summer next and pools least. Chlorine, yuck. I love scuba diving where you seem to fly over an alien world, free from gravity and sound, living in an extra dimension. I love watching surf roll onto a rocky shore, smelling the scent of salt water and feeling the pound of the waves as they break. I love body-surfing when the water takes you and hurls you forward in a burst of foam and cold. I love water. Sometimes I wish I had gills.
8.) I'm a procrastinator. Big time. I started doing the weekly laundry at 7:30 this morning and right now there is a huge basket waiting to go out onto the line and if I don't get it out there soon it won't dry. The reason it all has to go out together is hummingbirds. They love to sit on the clothesline, and where they sits, they poops. So the clothes have to be out for as short a time as possible. But they need to go out. Right. Now.
They're out. I'm posting and I'm out of here. Oh, if there is anyone left who hasn't done this thing, Tag!, you're it.
Friday, 18 May 2007
Cogito (deinde scribo), ergo sum
Slouching Mom has tagged me to participate in a meme, the instructions for which are to write several statements beginning with "I am".She begins her compilation by saying '…this, by the way, is not unlike one of the most widely used personality tests known as the "sentence completion" task. I’d recommend not drawing conclusions about personality on the basis of the sentence completion task, because as an assessment tool it is neither valid nor reliable. And with that I’d like to conclude today’s lecture on personality testing.'
Thinking up 'I am' sentences is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. It may not be a good test of personality but it is testing. Ah, well. Here goes:
I am thinking. I am writing. I am thinking some more.
I am a procrastinator.
I am sitting in my office, surrounded by piles of paper, on the floor, on the desk, on the worktable, each pile representing a job that I need to get done.
I am not doing these jobs.
I am thinking up sentences starting with 'I am', wasting valuable working time. Um, that's not true.
I am wasting valuable time I could spend reading blogs.
I am convinced that I am blowing this.
I am.
Cogito {deinde scribo}, ergo sum.
I think {then I write}, therefore I am.
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The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day
I really wish that we wore poppies year round, or had regular days when we were grown up and open-handed and, yes, open hearted in support...
