Nancy Drew Ivory Charm... nosing around
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
How to Store and Organize Your Kitties
In a box...
In a drawer...
In a rectangle...
By color and number...
At nap time...
In tubs... Cute
Thursday, March 18, 2010
High Speed Photography
Always a challenge, high speed photography has been taken a step further. It is usually done in a dark room but I found these cool photos. Can you find the fish?
Cool link!
Cool link!
High Speed Photography : Frozen in Time | Inspiration: ""
Monday, March 15, 2010
Livermore's Centennial Light Cam Pics
Livermore's Centennial Light Web Cam Pics: ""
This bulb in a Livermore, California firehouse has been burning since 1901 but rarely has been turned off. When the fire station was moved- the light bulb went with it, still connected and burning bright. Amazing!
Which apparently serves to prove that turning on and off electrical units consumes more energy than leaving them going.
Centennial Light - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia: ""
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
The Noguchi Filing System
moleskinerie: The Noguchi Filing System: ""
Reinventing the pile!
Of course, who wants to be pulling papers in and out of cheap envelopes? Why not just use closed file folders, right?
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Dibs
Every winter in Chicago tends to build an accumulation of snow. It can get several feet deep.
I grew up in a suburb south of Chicago. Side streets were always plowed. It was not something that even crossed my mind. I took it for granted.
Until I moved to the city.
King Mayor Richard Daley II, a rotund, intellectually challenged monarch who flunked the bar exam on more than one occasion and is overdue for his coronation, has never bothered to have Streets and Sanitation clear the side streets of snow. Not ever except once every few years. That is, except in elite and special neighborhoods like his own Bridgeport.
As the winter progresses, snow falls. Looks pretty. Then it gets grey and dirty. The ruts get deeper and deeper. Driving is downright dangerous. Then it ices over.
Then comes the fun part. As people dig their way out of a parking spot they somehow believe that they own it. They hoard it! They won't share. Yup, they own the street.
Never mind that everyone has to dig their way out.
So residents reserve their own parking space.
When they drive anywhere, they pull out of their "space" and put a useless or deemed no longer useful piece of trash to hold their "spot". They place tricycles, old ratty cardboard boxes, broken chairs, empty laundry bottles- you name it, they use it!
The threat is implied.
"If you mess with my 'space', I will slash your tires!"
Now most people will not slash your tires. At least, I hope not. But you really do not know who you are dealing with. So you conform.
The Mayor's thoughtful reaction "Everyone does it." Ah, duh!
I'd resist. I'd drive around for an hour looking for a spot as I was too stubborn to proclaim that snow I pulled out of as mine. It was the principle of the thing!
Ah, it usually does not this look nice but I liked the photo.
The most infuriating aspect being that there was actually plenty of parking. People worked different shifts. There was no need for this lunacy and frustration!
Sometimes I'd park at an enclosed hospital lot about two blocks from my house. That was brilliant and well worth the $3. I would not have to clean off some 8 inches of snow from my windshield. Some of the best money I ever spent.
Then their was Gunther. Gunther was the landlady's gopher. Mrs. Hildegarde Spleidermeyer (name somewhat modified to protect the witch; she must have been related to Reichsführer Himmler).
Gunther came by pounding on my door, one day all excited, babbling something about how I parked in the landlady's, Mrs. Spleidermeyer's, "spot".
I did not know what he was talking about!
I never parked in anyone's "spot". I did not dare. Where I had parked was full of snow, had no empty container and wait a minute...
"Wait a minute! Mrs. Spleidermeyer does not even drive! Why does she need a parking space?"
White-haired, heavily spectacled, sharp-nosed 76 year old Mrs. Spleidermeyer, built compact like a brick sh*thouse, relied on other people to chauffeur her around. Cheap, nosey and obnoxious, she always turned OFF the heat at 10 pm when she went to sleep. I do not know how many times I called the city on her. They came out to check only in the day when she had the heat cranked up so high, I'd have to open up the windows in sub-zero temperatures. Later I would have my coat and hat on.
Anyway, Gunther was furious.
"Mrs. Spleidermeyer needs the space in case she has company!"
He started threatening me. I told him that Mrs. Spleidermeyer did not own the street and I was going to call the Police as "dibs" is downright illegal.
He left. My tires were fine. Wimp.
~~
My dream was to rent a dump truck, outfit some guy with a machine gun to ride on the back and drive up and down the street collecting the tricycles, broken chairs, bust cardboard boxes, baby dolls.
~~~
One early, bitterly frigid Saturday night/morn I came back home and looked for a parking spot. I drove around for about 35 minutes. I was furious but I noticed no one was around. Ah huh! Now's my chance! A dream brought to fruition.
So I drove around and around the block (which was three blocks long or so) and got in and out of my car and started throwing the containers, the tricycles, the broken chairs right back into the snow! I laughed with glee! One of the best times I have ever had. The simple pleasures of life in cosmopolitan Chicago.
No, I parked in the lot that morning. I should have rented a video camera for reactions the next day! I never got caught! ;o) HA!
I grew up in a suburb south of Chicago. Side streets were always plowed. It was not something that even crossed my mind. I took it for granted.
Until I moved to the city.
King Mayor Richard Daley II, a rotund, intellectually challenged monarch who flunked the bar exam on more than one occasion and is overdue for his coronation, has never bothered to have Streets and Sanitation clear the side streets of snow. Not ever except once every few years. That is, except in elite and special neighborhoods like his own Bridgeport.
As the winter progresses, snow falls. Looks pretty. Then it gets grey and dirty. The ruts get deeper and deeper. Driving is downright dangerous. Then it ices over.
Then comes the fun part. As people dig their way out of a parking spot they somehow believe that they own it. They hoard it! They won't share. Yup, they own the street.
Never mind that everyone has to dig their way out.
So residents reserve their own parking space.
When they drive anywhere, they pull out of their "space" and put a useless or deemed no longer useful piece of trash to hold their "spot". They place tricycles, old ratty cardboard boxes, broken chairs, empty laundry bottles- you name it, they use it!
The threat is implied.
"If you mess with my 'space', I will slash your tires!"
Now most people will not slash your tires. At least, I hope not. But you really do not know who you are dealing with. So you conform.
The Mayor's thoughtful reaction "Everyone does it." Ah, duh!
I'd resist. I'd drive around for an hour looking for a spot as I was too stubborn to proclaim that snow I pulled out of as mine. It was the principle of the thing!
Ah, it usually does not this look nice but I liked the photo.
The most infuriating aspect being that there was actually plenty of parking. People worked different shifts. There was no need for this lunacy and frustration!
Sometimes I'd park at an enclosed hospital lot about two blocks from my house. That was brilliant and well worth the $3. I would not have to clean off some 8 inches of snow from my windshield. Some of the best money I ever spent.
Then their was Gunther. Gunther was the landlady's gopher. Mrs. Hildegarde Spleidermeyer (name somewhat modified to protect the witch; she must have been related to Reichsführer Himmler).
Gunther came by pounding on my door, one day all excited, babbling something about how I parked in the landlady's, Mrs. Spleidermeyer's, "spot".
I did not know what he was talking about!
I never parked in anyone's "spot". I did not dare. Where I had parked was full of snow, had no empty container and wait a minute...
"Wait a minute! Mrs. Spleidermeyer does not even drive! Why does she need a parking space?"
White-haired, heavily spectacled, sharp-nosed 76 year old Mrs. Spleidermeyer, built compact like a brick sh*thouse, relied on other people to chauffeur her around. Cheap, nosey and obnoxious, she always turned OFF the heat at 10 pm when she went to sleep. I do not know how many times I called the city on her. They came out to check only in the day when she had the heat cranked up so high, I'd have to open up the windows in sub-zero temperatures. Later I would have my coat and hat on.
Anyway, Gunther was furious.
"Mrs. Spleidermeyer needs the space in case she has company!"
He started threatening me. I told him that Mrs. Spleidermeyer did not own the street and I was going to call the Police as "dibs" is downright illegal.
He left. My tires were fine. Wimp.
~~
My dream was to rent a dump truck, outfit some guy with a machine gun to ride on the back and drive up and down the street collecting the tricycles, broken chairs, bust cardboard boxes, baby dolls.
~~~
One early, bitterly frigid Saturday night/morn I came back home and looked for a parking spot. I drove around for about 35 minutes. I was furious but I noticed no one was around. Ah huh! Now's my chance! A dream brought to fruition.
So I drove around and around the block (which was three blocks long or so) and got in and out of my car and started throwing the containers, the tricycles, the broken chairs right back into the snow! I laughed with glee! One of the best times I have ever had. The simple pleasures of life in cosmopolitan Chicago.
No, I parked in the lot that morning. I should have rented a video camera for reactions the next day! I never got caught! ;o) HA!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Call Me Bubbles
I confess that I flunked Gym twice!
My mother ranted "How can any one flunk Gym?"
That one baffled me too!
It was because of the uniform.
I went to an all girls' school (so pity me)!
We had Gym twice a week for two long years. We had to wear this hideous alligator green uniforms with bloomers (yes, you heard me right). With bloomers underneath!!
We thankfully only had Gym twice a week.
Well twice a week Mrs. Riordan and Miss Sparks (freshman and sophomore years) inspected our uglee- a** uniforms.
They had to be ironed. I ironed mine but it still looked like I slept in it. I could not figure out what the big fuss was about. I still can't. Have you ever had the dubious pleasure of ironing bloomers???
The uglee uniforms had to have our name sewn on the top with white thread.
My friends started calling me "Bubbles" because they could not read my lovely embroidered name.
(My sister got the domestic gene- not I. I confess I never once wanted it! She got double.)
I must have received a failure notice. My Mom used to make me get up at 5 am to iron my Gym uniform. I begged her to do it for me but she wouldn't.
Well, I flunked Gym. Twice.
Then I was supposed to make it up. Now how can you make up Gym in summer school? Rent the Gym out so I can volley volleyballs to myself, write basketball rules, do jumping jacks and stand at attention while be inspected?
Dr. Campbell, bless his heart, wrote an excuse so I could graduate. I had a "chronic illness".
I got stuck taking Gym in college, much to my chagrin. I took Swimming and got a "A" although I had a messed up knee and spent most of the semester watching other students swim although I was dying to get in the water. I finally recovered. The teacher was nice.
I took a tennis course with the same instructor. The high point was going to hit a ball back and the racket went flying across the room! He passed me. That "B" was a gift.
Next I took an Advanced Aquatics class. I am a terrific swimmer, right?
You guessed it! The witch flunked me!
We were supposed to do laps before class. Well, I had a REAL class before that and could not. So I did them after class. Not good enough.
This woman ignored me the entire semester and then she had the gall to flunk me. I was going to go to the Dean about her but I never did- I should have!
I managed to flunk Gym three times! They get hung up on details! Intellectually challenged perchance?
Then I flunked Spanish which I thought was a real hoot! I just took the next hardest course so I never had to make it up.
Dr. Sullivan. His Spanish was not all that hot. But that is another story.
My mother ranted "How can any one flunk Gym?"
That one baffled me too!
It was because of the uniform.
I went to an all girls' school (so pity me)!
We had Gym twice a week for two long years. We had to wear this hideous alligator green uniforms with bloomers (yes, you heard me right). With bloomers underneath!!
We thankfully only had Gym twice a week.
Well twice a week Mrs. Riordan and Miss Sparks (freshman and sophomore years) inspected our uglee- a** uniforms.
They had to be ironed. I ironed mine but it still looked like I slept in it. I could not figure out what the big fuss was about. I still can't. Have you ever had the dubious pleasure of ironing bloomers???
The uglee uniforms had to have our name sewn on the top with white thread.
My friends started calling me "Bubbles" because they could not read my lovely embroidered name.
(My sister got the domestic gene- not I. I confess I never once wanted it! She got double.)
I must have received a failure notice. My Mom used to make me get up at 5 am to iron my Gym uniform. I begged her to do it for me but she wouldn't.
Well, I flunked Gym. Twice.
Then I was supposed to make it up. Now how can you make up Gym in summer school? Rent the Gym out so I can volley volleyballs to myself, write basketball rules, do jumping jacks and stand at attention while be inspected?
Dr. Campbell, bless his heart, wrote an excuse so I could graduate. I had a "chronic illness".
I got stuck taking Gym in college, much to my chagrin. I took Swimming and got a "A" although I had a messed up knee and spent most of the semester watching other students swim although I was dying to get in the water. I finally recovered. The teacher was nice.
I took a tennis course with the same instructor. The high point was going to hit a ball back and the racket went flying across the room! He passed me. That "B" was a gift.
Next I took an Advanced Aquatics class. I am a terrific swimmer, right?
You guessed it! The witch flunked me!
We were supposed to do laps before class. Well, I had a REAL class before that and could not. So I did them after class. Not good enough.
This woman ignored me the entire semester and then she had the gall to flunk me. I was going to go to the Dean about her but I never did- I should have!
I managed to flunk Gym three times! They get hung up on details! Intellectually challenged perchance?
Then I flunked Spanish which I thought was a real hoot! I just took the next hardest course so I never had to make it up.
Dr. Sullivan. His Spanish was not all that hot. But that is another story.
My Jean Jacket
I had this too cool jean jacket from high school. I "sewed" all sorts of patches on it- Leo, a security company with my name, Mickey Mouse, Mighty Mouse, Truckin'.
My jacket saw me party through the BEST of times!
I was thin through much of high school.
My dream was to fit into my high school jean jacket once again.
Well, one day I woke up and experienced a Kafkaesque Metamorphosis. The answer to all my prayers. The solution to all my woes! I discovered I was skinny!
So the thought finally dawned on me to try on my old jean jacket.
I tried it on and it actually fit! I was stunned. Oh was I!
The jacket fit all right but my arms hung out. My arms had grown! Way too long that there was no way I could wear the jacket. (The thought occurred to me later that maybe I could have cut the sleeves but if it was doable I probably would have.) Did I tell you that I loved that jacket?
Now I have heard that your nose grows when you get old but your arms! (Besides I am not all that old!) Makes no sense!
I tossed my jean jacket and I'd like to apologize to her for a moment of weakness. Forgive me already! Please...
My jacket saw me party through the BEST of times!
I was thin through much of high school.
My dream was to fit into my high school jean jacket once again.
Well, one day I woke up and experienced a Kafkaesque Metamorphosis. The answer to all my prayers. The solution to all my woes! I discovered I was skinny!
So the thought finally dawned on me to try on my old jean jacket.
I tried it on and it actually fit! I was stunned. Oh was I!
The jacket fit all right but my arms hung out. My arms had grown! Way too long that there was no way I could wear the jacket. (The thought occurred to me later that maybe I could have cut the sleeves but if it was doable I probably would have.) Did I tell you that I loved that jacket?
Now I have heard that your nose grows when you get old but your arms! (Besides I am not all that old!) Makes no sense!
I tossed my jean jacket and I'd like to apologize to her for a moment of weakness. Forgive me already! Please...
Posting 1, 2, 3
Ok, so I downloaded and I plan on purchasing MarsEdit for the Mac which is blog software. So I am committing to blogging. (Two gerunds?)
Why am I drawing a blank? Gee, Papa Hemingway and I have something in common.
I just love this photo. The kitty looks like he wants to jump up but he's too short!
"How to Organize Kitties"
I am on an organization kick.
Don't get me wrong. I love my stuff. I have some of the coolest stuff. But I want to be in charge for once.
Remind me to tell you about Little Oscar Kitty.
And fear not, this blog will not just be about kitties. I love most critters.
But Oscar is one memorable kitty.
I am just going through my "stuff" looking for cool photos. I have lots of cool kitty photos apparently.
This is my boy! He gives the best massages and has the softest, most luxurious fur. His favorite hobby is chowing down.
The apples don't fall far from the trees!
If you have some really tough looking boots you cannot bear to part with- voila! Here is my excuse. I have a pair of boots that look almost just like those. To be "altered"... ;o)
Why am I drawing a blank? Gee, Papa Hemingway and I have something in common.
I just love this photo. The kitty looks like he wants to jump up but he's too short!
"How to Organize Kitties"
I am on an organization kick.
Don't get me wrong. I love my stuff. I have some of the coolest stuff. But I want to be in charge for once.
Remind me to tell you about Little Oscar Kitty.
And fear not, this blog will not just be about kitties. I love most critters.
But Oscar is one memorable kitty.
I am just going through my "stuff" looking for cool photos. I have lots of cool kitty photos apparently.
This is my boy! He gives the best massages and has the softest, most luxurious fur. His favorite hobby is chowing down.
The apples don't fall far from the trees!
If you have some really tough looking boots you cannot bear to part with- voila! Here is my excuse. I have a pair of boots that look almost just like those. To be "altered"... ;o)
Saturday, February 27, 2010
The Two Al's
Al Gore's Desk! I cracked up when I saw this!
Einstein's Blackboard
Young Albert
What else do Albert Einstein and Al Gore have in common?
They both won Nobels!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Hoarders
The most amazing show from A & E caught my attention.
"Hoarders" is one of the funniest shows I have ever seen. I particularly find it humorous as I have some of the tendencies that these people exhibit. I can also understand where many of them are coming from.
In the first episodes I watched, there were two different hoarders.
One was a man with two adopted children. In all honesty, I did not think his house looked that bad!
One child has special needs and is just about ready to hit the pre-teen age years. Big time behavior problem in the works!
A social worker on the program was smugly alleging that the child's behavior had to do with his messy house! Yeah, right! He was also implying that he could handle the child. My professional instincts says he could not!
Apparently they threatened to take the kids away from the father!
Now that stunned me. I can almost guarantee that child would never be placed, let alone in such an apparently loving home.
And is not a messy home better than an uncaring environment?
Does this man need help? You bet! Does he need to be threatened or be the subject of finger pointing- no way! He ought to be applauded for accepting a special needs child!
~~~
Then there was a young mother living with her teenage daughter. They had lived with the grandmother who had died not unrecently.
The finger wagging started. It winds up the teen is a bit of a hoarder herself. So then, it was not only the mother's mess!
Both mother and daughter are very sentimental about stuff that belonged to the grandmother.
Been there! Done that!
~~
As I continued to watch it seemed that the homes they showed got worse although there are a series of homes that "Hoarders" is attempting to improve.
Some of these places were really disgusting. I'd imagine "How much is too much?" is defined by distinguishing primarily clutter from utter filth.
"Hoarders" is one of the funniest shows I have ever seen. I particularly find it humorous as I have some of the tendencies that these people exhibit. I can also understand where many of them are coming from.
In the first episodes I watched, there were two different hoarders.
One was a man with two adopted children. In all honesty, I did not think his house looked that bad!
One child has special needs and is just about ready to hit the pre-teen age years. Big time behavior problem in the works!
A social worker on the program was smugly alleging that the child's behavior had to do with his messy house! Yeah, right! He was also implying that he could handle the child. My professional instincts says he could not!
Apparently they threatened to take the kids away from the father!
Now that stunned me. I can almost guarantee that child would never be placed, let alone in such an apparently loving home.
And is not a messy home better than an uncaring environment?
Does this man need help? You bet! Does he need to be threatened or be the subject of finger pointing- no way! He ought to be applauded for accepting a special needs child!
~~~
Then there was a young mother living with her teenage daughter. They had lived with the grandmother who had died not unrecently.
The finger wagging started. It winds up the teen is a bit of a hoarder herself. So then, it was not only the mother's mess!
Both mother and daughter are very sentimental about stuff that belonged to the grandmother.
Been there! Done that!
~~
As I continued to watch it seemed that the homes they showed got worse although there are a series of homes that "Hoarders" is attempting to improve.
Some of these places were really disgusting. I'd imagine "How much is too much?" is defined by distinguishing primarily clutter from utter filth.
Decisions, decisions!
I have been all over the place trying to determine what I am going to write about.
So I finally decided just to do one of the things I do best- write!!
So without further ado, despite that utterly paralyzing writer's block (which really is the fear of not doing something perfectly which logically makes no sense), I am going to do what comes naturally to me- just to let it rip!
So I finally decided just to do one of the things I do best- write!!
So without further ado, despite that utterly paralyzing writer's block (which really is the fear of not doing something perfectly which logically makes no sense), I am going to do what comes naturally to me- just to let it rip!
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