Wintry presents

It was my birthday a couple of days ago, and for the life of me, I can't think of anything profound to say about the last year or the coming year.  I'll leave resolutions to January, but I do think I'd like to be more physically active than the last year has been.  My svelte physique has gone walkabout and .. I need to catch up to it again.  'Nuff said.

I woke up to our first snowfall of the year and it had mostly disappeared later in the day.  I took some pictures of the backyard and the view from our living room to share with you.  I loved the interplay of sunlight and snow which is a staple of Alberta, but not BC so much.

Isn't this grand? I love the sky behind the trees

A few days ago, I showed you a picture of our Japanese Maple.
Still beautiful, but not quite the same fiery glow.

I have no idea why I like this picture so much, but it makes me smile and feel warm fuzzies inside.

If you look down there in the middle of this picture, you can see a hideaway for small
woodland creatures.  This is what I imagine the denizens of Laughing Brook saw when they
climbed out of their nests, dens, old logs or briar patch on a wintry morn and looked toward
their neighbors for signs of activity.

Ha .. I do get carried away sometimes. 

My husband got carried away and, for my birthday, indulged my spoken-aloud wish earlier this year for a camera with more features.  The one I have is really adequate for a lot of things, but it totally misses the mark on others.  I'm super excited about the camera, which should arrive in store any day now.  The only one they had on hand was the store demo model and no telling how much battery life is left.  The battery on the new camera is something I'm grinning about, since the one taking the pictures above will go through a set of batteries inside of a few hours.  I usually have a pair of AAs stashed about my person somewhere. *grin*  And no, I'm not talking about my boobs.

I have to give the sales rep credit.  He really tried to hit a home run when he saw he had an almost guaranteed sale lined up.  First, it was the Canon Rebel with not just one, but two extra lenses.  I have to admit, I got excited about it for a few minutes.  Then I took a breath and the world shifted back into focus.  (Ha ha .. at the camera store.  I amuse me.) 

Annnnyway, then he suggested I should get one of the new iPhones.  One extreme to the other .. the gent was grasping at the wind .. just couldn't figure out what I wanted, even though I was telling him.  So we nudged him over in the direction of stuff that looked affordable and not too complicated for what I need my camera to do.  He picked up a Canon, but I took one look at the baby below and I was hooked.  I am suuuuch a sucker for a pretty package.  In this case, however, I think I have exactly what I need for my 'next step.'  Looking forward to showing you how the view through the lens looks.

Steven Brust

I was thumbing through an index of author's blogs the other day when Steven Brust's name popped out at me.  I immediately clicked that link and bookmarked that baby because he's the author of the Vlad Taltos series, one of my favorites.  As a matter of fact, I pretty much love everything this guy has done, but Vlad holds a special place in my heart.  He and his jhereg Loiosh.

I'm a bit dragon infatuated, truth be told.  My martial arts background really helped develop that because of the dragon's relationship to disciplines, none of which I actually practiced for more than, oooh ... a month ...  and it was called Green Dragon, if I recall.  White tiger, green dragon?  Something like that.  Anyway, I have a rather nice collection of dragons in my possession, most of whom have homes in my bookshelves when I do actually have bookshelves.

A place of pride on those shelves is my collection of Steven Brust.  Imagine a world where the Chinese 12-year cycle rules your lives, your personalities, your friends, your livelihood and vocation.  Dogs and Tigers and Horses would get along famously, but we'd have little patience for Dragons and their haughty ways or the rest of their triumvirate of friends.  We'd do business with others, but shy away from the Roosters and  their tight-fisted dealings with money.  We might worry about Rats sneaking into our homes at night or operating gambling dens or we might seek them out to hire them for a bit of dirty work.

Enter Brust's playground, the world of Dragaera and the home of Vlad Taltos, of the House of  Jhereg.  Here's a bit of alonger description from one of the fansites; 


"There are two major species: Easterners and Dragaerans. Dragaerans are an elf-like species who live thousands of years. Easterners are a more real-world human population with a life-span of approximately 100 years and have more human-like characteristics ... like facial hair. Both species call themselves "humans;" however, Dragaerans consider Easterners something less than human.

There are 17 Houses in the Dragaeran Empire each named after a species of animal in Dragaera. Each House has its own uniform/color-scheme and its own distinct personality. The House of the Jhereg is the only one that admits Easterners. It is the House of criminal enterprises, much like the mafia.

In Dragaera, there exists witchcraft (primarily utilized by Easterners), sorcery (which relies on the presence of the Orb), and then the illegal and volatile Elder Sorcery. The main character in this series, Vlad Taltos, plays with them all."

Vlad lives on the shady side of the street and has a real Jhereg as a pet, his familiar, Loiosh, who is as reverent a sidekick as, say, my brother George would be, which is to say "not at all."  An assassin by trade, he trusts completely in his knife and blade, and a bit less so in the magical arts he employs. 

The series .. there are more than a few, probably more than "a lot," are all stand-alone adventures.  It matters not which order you read them in because Brust hasn't written them in chronological order.

Words, Words, Words, The Dreamcafé.
Steven Brust's blog

Now .. if this hasn't yet convinced you, I'm going to take you to visit the site of a free downloadable book .. a fanfiction, if you will.  I think I may have purred when I discovered this.  Because Steven  Brust has made a jump to hyperspace .. to a ship that many of my family and friends already know.

I think I’m so civilized cause I’m living my life saying hello and good-bye

But all around me people make me so mad I could be spitting in their eye

So I’m no better than the bad criminals who hit, cheat, and burglarize

‘Cos compared to all of those neat super-heroes I am a mean-guy.

I always say please and thank you and you’re welcome, ‘cos I am very polite

But overdraft fees and automatic phone help makes me ready to fight

I don’t wanted to listen to idiots blab

I don’t want drink until I’m in rehab

I just want go into my secret lab and make like a mean guy.

I’m a mean guy I’m a mean mean guy

Oh, I’m a mean guy.

I’m a Green Goblin guy I’m a Venom guy, oh I’m a mean guy.

Cos compared to Spidey so strong and so brave

Compared to Batman in his bat cave

Compared to a boy who knows how to behave

I am a mean guy.

In man’s evolution he has created boundaries between every nation

Which is nothing but asking for guys like to me to go for world domination

Cos I’m happier than I might seem

When I’m with my hand-picked team

Making an invisible destructor beam

Cause I am a mean guy.

I’m a mean guy I’m a mean mean guy

Oh, I’m a mean guy.

I’m a Marvel guy I’m a D.C., oh I’m a mean guy.

I watch the world through my periscope

Hatching schemes that will work I hope

Maybe next week I’ll kidnap the Pope.

I am a mean guy.

Come on and join me, by my mean guy pal.

We’ll share the world, you can have Lonsdale.

I’m a mean guy I’m a mean mean guy

Oh, I’m a mean guy.

I’m a Green Goblin guy I’m a Venom guy, oh I’m a mean guy.

I’ll be your Joker you’ll be Harley Quinn

I’ll make you rich and you’ll make me win

If our plans our foiled we’ll just try again

I am a mean guy.

I’m a mean guy I’m a mean mean guy

Oh, I’m a mean guy.

I’m a Doc Oc guy I’m a Burglar guy, oh I’m a mean guy.

I want to own everything I see.

I’m Ayn Rand’s child by Bill Nietzsche

Until the superheroes catch up with me.

I’ll be a mean guy.

He always smiled when Serenity first kissed atmo.

That was the moment that separated pilots; a sloppy entry cost fuel, a perfect entry saved fuel, and the difference could be the difference between a healthy profit and a disastrous loss. When you kissed atmo, it was all touch; suddenly the number of variables increased by an order of magnitude: the shape of the ship, the tilt of her nose, the attitude adjusters, speed, direction, the density and exact composition of the upper atmosphere—all of it.

Mal never noticed, of course; none of them noticed. They'd only notice if he did it badly; then he would, no doubt, get all sorts of looks and remarks. And it would cut into his profits as it would the rest of the crew's.

But none of that was why he made his entries as close to perfect as humanly possible: he did it because it was what he loved doing. The challenges to a pilot in the black were rare, and usually involved some form of terror. But the first touch of atmo on a new planet, setting up the slide, the deceleration, balancing skin heat with fuel cost, inert-damp with gravity—feeling part of the boat in a way even Kaylee, bless her heart, could never know—those were the moments of living. That was the best.

He was aware of the first hint of rudder to port, and nose up, and then the thrust control was under his right hand; and after that for a while he could no longer follow the details, because he was no longer using controls—it wasn't cause and effect, it was just one long effect as distinctions blurred. Pilot to control, control to boat, boat to atmo, atmo to gravity, gravity to pilot: they were all the same thing as Serenity sang the song only Wash could hear. After an interminable twenty seconds that was over so quickly it may never have existed, the decisions were made, the hard part past, and everything was, alas, easy again. It was morning on this part of Hera.

From the co-pilot's chair, Mal said, "How's the entry?"

"It's an entry. They're all the same."

My Own Kind of Freedom
A Firefly Novel by Steven Brust

Yes, yes, click the picture for the link

And because I know we're all in a sort of blissed out Kumbaya state right now ... let's all hold hands and sing the theme together ... c'mon, it's okay, we'll geek out together.

Take my love, take my land,

                  Take me where I cannot stand,

I don't care, I'm still free,

                  You can't take the sky from me.

Take me out to the black.  

          Tell em I ain't comin' back. 

       Burn the land and boil the sea.  

              You can't take the sky from me.

Have no place I can be            

Since I found Serenity.  

But you can't take the sky from me.

Things I Discovered Yesterday

I've been stumbling about the interwebs the last few days, looking at graphic novels, novelists and other what-not that captures my fancy. You might argue that I've not gone much done as a result, but I'd counter with .. I got a lot of stumbling done.  Here, in no particular order is some of that stuff.

Neil Gaiman, whose work I'm only now coming to appreciate, is a long time dectractor of Todd McFarlane, whom I happen to like from a "home town boy makes good" angle.  Now, this is ooooooold news to those of you who know who those two are.  Apparently, it stems from a time when they collaborated on something.  In the case of these two, the argument or lawsuit is not important, but the participants are on my radar for separate reasons.

Click this masthead to take you to Neil Gaiman's site

Neil Gaiman's Coraline was up for best animated picture last year.  His graphic novels of Sandman helped redefine and coalesce interest in the flagging genre.  He's a real believer in the future of online and audio books.

Click jersey for link

Todd McFarlane was born and came of age in Calgary, although he did spend some years Stateside.  You may have seen his work and not realized it was his ... Superman, Spiderman and his flagship title, The Spawn, created after he broke away from Marvel Comics and formed Image Comics.

You might also recognize this jersey, from the decade that Todd spent as partial owner of the Edmonton Oilers.

To move on to another graphic novelist, which is what I did, Frank Miller is the author of "300," a film you'll remember for the line 'THIS IS SPARTA!!" if nothing else.


If you're having a bad day and you're a somewhat well known figure, maybe you should just shut up ... instead of getting online and unclenching your balled fists long enough to stab your anger through your fingers into the keys and thus, onto the screen.  At least, I'm attributing this vitriolic rant by Frank Miller to be the result of  a bad day; a bad day which has gone viral, at least within literary circles.  Please don't think I'm against Mr. Millar having an opinion, but the name calling is poor judgement and not even creatively done.  I'm not sure which is the bigger crime, being angry and online (which is akin to drunk dialing in my opinion) or being angry, an author of some repute, online and communicating badly.

I confess that the "Occupy X" movement is a bit beyond my scope, not being a person who drives or walks by them daily or even someone who watches a ton of news.  But I get that they are trying to make change in a bumbling, pacifistic sort of way.  I recall that people of Mr. Miller's generation did the same thing with their college and university sit-ins .. and places other than campuses. There was draft-card burning in the States that went hand in hand as I recall ... it was a the beginning of the tide that eventually changed a nation.  And it started with people merely sitting.  Whether or not Occupy X is the beginning of a groundswell or fizzles out as an idea that never really went anywhere, only time will tell.

Now, author David Brin .. and you should recognize that illustrious name as writer of The Uplift  War, has taken exception to Mr. Miller's blog commentary.  So he responds.  And zomg ... he demonstrates the epitome of outrage so eloquently that you become interested in the subject if only for the education you receive.

 So there you have it.  Yesterday, I learned about wars of the internet kind .. and the Grecian kind.

I was standing upstairs, peering into cupboard and fridge, taking inventory counts and making lists in preparation for a pre-weekend trip to the grocery store.  I refuse to shop on the weekend anymore.  I remember that hell and how grouchy it made me ... so impatient with the blue-haired ladies who want to block an aisle with their carts while they catch up on the latest in their respective families.  I'm pretty sure all those working people out there appreciate me not being another clog in the aisle as they hurry about the insane amount of ordinary everyday stuff they need to cram into two whole days off.

I chanced to look distractedly out the window and thought to myself, "now that looks like an Alberta sky."  And since that was something that had never before crossed my mind .. that skies in different areas could have completely different temperaments and familial characteristics ... I walked over to the window to actively note the differences.

What I saw was a massive bulbous black sky, bright white clouds like ghosts fleeing in fright before the inky contortions behind them, their mouths extended in screams of horror, robes shredded by the winds as they ran.  The winds picked up and hurled bright sunshine and my neighbor's oak leaves across my balcony in vortexes of frightened Autumn.  My own forest pansy bent before the wind and gave up its crown of glory in seconds.  On the lower deck, the large pot of bamboo paid obeisance to Mother Nature.

And then ... then it did something I've never seen in six years of living here.  It hailed. Oh, not golf ball sized car bodywork hail, just pellets slashing down, bouncing from the patio.  It was exciting.

Now, half an hour later, the power flickers occasionally, but doesn't look like it will fail.  The skies are returning to their normal grey upon grey upon grey.  Or is that gray on gray on gray?  Never quite sure of that word.

Anyway, here are my pics.   Enjoy ... while I hit the grocery store.

Focus is a bit shaky here.  I was shivering.  LOL .. I really have become a British Columbian.

Taken through my office window .. you can see the screen pattern.

Forest Pansy .. this morning

Forest Pansy now.

Through it all, the Japanese maple stood and glowed!

The power of words

Yesterday, I was witness to an exchange of words in another online forum that brought back to me how much power there are in our simple little building blocks for communication.  In listening to the forum participants chat live later, it was readily apparent the respect they had for each other, which wasn't really coming through in the typed messages I read.

When I take care to write, which I try to do here most times, I tend to think of words in terms of impact in their sentences.  I choose the words that I would normally use in the course of conversation and then go back over stuff and re-read, editing words here and there.  I often choose words in terms of juxtaposition or force within the sentence and paragraph, to give the reader a visual to help them stay with me in wherever I'm driving, or to evoke an emotion.

The thing is, when I read the stuff I write, I read it with the intended inflection, the gentle tease, the twinkle in my eye.  Because of the exchange I witnessed yesterday, it occurred to me that this doesn't always come through in straight text form.

In light of that, I want to apologize to my Aunt Sandy for something I said about her fledgling computer skills. I know she's not hopeless, she's merely at the beginning process of discovering "how things go" and that you can poke that button and the world won't fall apart.  She makes me smile a lot as she discovers how to do things.  I see her progress when she forwards a mail or sends me a video link and I silently cheer for her.

I'm sorry for my poor word choice in my last post, Sandy.  I guess I let the flavour of the words get the better of me, which is a common enough failing for me.  And one I'm undoubtedly doomed to repeat more often than I should.  Not that I won't or don't already strive to be aware, just that I occasionally slip.  And not for malicious reasons.

A friend and I were chatting today and he asked what I was doing, so I told him about this post.  He thought for a moment, then came back with ... "Hmm ... brownies are always good way to say I'm sorry."

Still friends?

Hearts!

One of my friends acquired a watch last week that was encrusted in rhinestone hearts and was going a bit over the top about it.  She had been wanting this item for a while and recently came into a bit of cash, so she made the purchase.

Now, hearts are not a shape that I associate with myself.  I don't wear anything with a heart on it and unless I was looking for a Halloween costume, I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to shop for something that had cutesy hearts.  That's my problem with them .. cutesy.  It's like seeing an achorwoman wearing a fluffy sweater for official portraits .. simply contradicts the message of 'serious journalism' that they are trying to portray.  Lest you think that a bit sexist, I'd very likely make the same comment of an achorman in a fuzzy sweater.  And then add a couple of more comments just for good measure.  At any rate, it just doesn't fit my personality.  The hearts, not the extra commentary, because that's totally me.

My friend's enthusiasm for hearts got me wondering that if I were to be gifted with such an item, would I wear it?  So I did a bit of internet searching and came up with sixteen versions of a heart pendant I would wear and not feel too weird about doing so.

Would you look at that?  Three of these are pink!  I have to admit that these are striking pieces.  All in silver of course, since I don't wear gold.

And now, a word to my husband who will eventually wander to our site and then wonder if I'm trying to give him a birthday hint.   Nope, this was simply an exercise in 'what if.'  I'm not looking at adding to my jewellery collection just now.

My theme for November is an homage to my Aunt Sandy who gives me lots of little feedback and encouragement on my posts via email.  I don't think she's even seen the site since she is pretty much taking baby steps when it comes to computer jargon and abilities.  I automatically send my posts to both my aunts on my mother's side, trusting that they will pass along to my uncles anything they find interesting.  And since their emails contain the pictures I post,  they have all they need anyway.

When I was a youngster, I had the good fortune of being a part of my aunt and uncle's wedding party.  I still remember those white mary janes that were part of the outfit and the smell of shoe polish the day before the wedding.  I'm sure they weren't my first pair of new shoes, but they are the first I remember.  It was a BIG DEAL for my mom, I recall, and therefore, it became special for me.  My mother was  practically beside herself fussing over me and my aunt and anyone else who stood too close that weekend.

My mother was probably happiest when she had a reason to fuss, and she was deliriously happy for my aunt.  She was close to her sister, so when the newlyweds starting house decoration, mom was only too happy to keep tabs on colors.  It's a funny sort of thing to be remembered for, but my mother was one of those who file away people's favorite colors in the back of her head, at the ready in the event that a craft might be needed to fill up a space.

At any rate, my aunt painted her new bathroom a color that, at my tender age, I'd never heard before .. mauve.  My mother was over the moon about the color and I recall at one point in her life, one of her bathrooms also became a shade of purple.  I'm pretty sure my aunt received one of those bar soaps with sequins set into netting around it to make it look like a purple fish.  My mom did those kinds of things.  I think she kept a stash of pipe cleaners for every occasion.

But I've totally digressed, which I guess is my privilege as owner of this blog.

I'm trying to teach myself a bit about working with vector shapes, so I wrestled some of them down in somewhat of a grade school fashion and they are part of the bling of my November efforts.  Hope you enjoy and .. please ... if you find yourself experiencing something akin to a sugar rush when looking at my site, remember that sometimes, girls get to just be girls - complete with hearts and bling.

The less frilly sort of site will be back next month.  Maybe.  It will be December, after all.