Winding Down

Tags

Internet radio, kitties, Reading, Weather

Shortly after I got up this afternoon (I read in bed a long time), I looked over at the bed:  The black kitty was sleeping at the foot of my side, the grey one was sleeping by my pillow where my dear Jett used to sleep, and the white one was atop the nightstand on “their” side.  My first thought was how they’d made a spectrum from black to white.  My  second thought was “my posse.”

Having come into some discretionary funds* recently, I got on line in search of a particular item of feminine apparel, finally hunted down three I liked and purchased same, as well as a DVD of “Jason and the Argonauts.” (rather odd combination, I must admit . . .)   A significant portion of those articles on hand were aging out of the workforce after a decade and a half of service.  I have some rather strong opinions on the subject of said items of clothing (harnesses are for horses), but I bow to social convention and wear them when I leave the house, so they don’t get a lot of wear. Also, they do provide someplace close to my ears in which to secrete my MP3 player about my person.

Speaking of which, my Sansa Fuze+ and Rhapsody were being snitty with each other to the point that I ended up having to reformat the Sansa Fuze+, which, of course, wiped off all my music, so I’m now in the process of putting everything back on it — 30GB’s worth.   A slow and laborious process.  I have to transfer a playlist and then wait for it to get there.  Most of my playlists are quite long.  I think the shortest is 26 songs, and 200+ songs for the longer ones.  My “Smooth Jazz Instrumental” is 245 songs.  Like I say, I’ve got 30 GB to play with.

I’m almost done with my reread of C. J. Cherryh’s Chanur series.  I’m on book 5, the last book.  Real page turners, the lot of them. My advice is read the series in order, and don’t start reading it until you have the time to gulp whole books down in one or two sittings, because they are very engrossing and very hard to put down.  I love the Knnn.

This week I’m taking part in one of those Arbitron surveys about my radio listening habits.  Boy, am I going to skew the statistics.  I do not fit the demographic at all.  I am, you might say, a statistical way-outlier.  I am going to make a point of indicating that the reason I do not listen to AM or FM is that there’s too much yacking and not enough music, and when they do play music, it’s not the kind of music I like.  That’s why I listen to internet radio. You pick the right ones and it’s nothing but music.  Just music.  Also, internet radio can be very genre specific, and you can zero in on “your” kind of music.  If you are not familiar with internet radio, you might like to check it out.  This site is a very comprehensive list of internet radio stations by genre.

Gotta go get my driver’s license renewed Monday, seeing as how it expires Tuesday. I’m dreading it.  I’ll have to drive all the way downtown and it’ll probably take hours of standing in lines waiting.  I’ll pack a book.  Or knitting.

Finally switched from heater to AC on Wednesday.  I was wearing a tee-shirt and unmentionables and was feeling decidedly warm.  Got up and checked the thermostat.  It was 81F/27C in the house  –  80F is where the AC thermostat is set (the heater is set at 68F/20C).  Once it gets colder than 68F inside during the day, I switch to the heater.  Once it gets hotter than 80F inside, I switch over to the AC. We had a high of 100F/37.7C today.  Once I’ve turned the AC on, I quit using the clothes dryer, start using fabric softener, and hang the clothes on the line, and every ceiling fan in the house is on except the one in the “liberry.”  I try to confine any oven or stove use to the evening.  Every time my AC unit comes on, my electric meter spins like a top.  Wouldn’t it be lovely if we had a cool, wet summer?  Or at least a wet summer.  Current humidity is 16%.  Sigh.

I’ve got a coupon for a free Rooty Tooty Fresh’N'Fruity meal at IHOP.  They’re open 24/7.  I may just head on down there in a while . . . after I’ve taken a piece of packing tape and gotten most of the cat hair off my teeshirt. 

*Money left over after I’ve bought all the things I have to buy, like electricity, a roof over my head for another month, groceries, cat supplies, etc.

I Am Herne The Hunter …

Tags

Brain Treats, Music, TV

…And you are a leaf driven by the wind …

Robin of Sherwood.  That was the series that launched Clannad in America.  A fairly period accurate mix of history, pagan religion, 20th century fiction and myth.  Witty, gritty, and mystical, purporting to take place right at the turn of the 13th century (1199-1200), it was a typically well done British production, broadcast on ITV in Britain, and on Showtime here in the US.  While everyone else was swooning over Michael Praed, who played Robin of Locksley, I was swooning over Sir Guy of Gisbourne, played by the late, multitalented Robert Addie — he was an expert horseman and former polo player, an accomplished swordsman, and a former competitive archer.  He had all the skills Praed should have had and didn’t.  He was also a tall, lanky, blue-eyed blond. (He had already played a teenaged Mordred to Dame Helen Mirren’s Morgana la Fey in John Boorman’s Excalibur so Sir Guy of Gisbourne was no real stretch.) When Praed wanted out of the series to become a Prince on the TV prime time soap Dynasty, Robin of Locksley was killed off at the end of the second series, and Herne the Hunter chose Robert of Huntingdon, played by Jason Connery, (son of Sean), to be Locksley’s successor. They had several very interesting story arcs going on with Connery’s character, but unfortunately, ITV got itself in financial difficulties and could no longer afford to produce the series and it was canceled at the end of the third season with all those story arcs left hanging.

Unlike Hollywood, Britain has a pool of talented, well-trained, well-rounded actors on whom to draw, and Robin of Sherwood had it’s share (series regulars Ray Winstone and Nicholas Grace, as well as the likes of Anthony Valentine, John Rhys-Davies, Rula Lenska, Oliver Tobias, Cyril Cusak, and Matt Frewer as guest stars).  The series had a strong ensemble cast of “merry men” to prop up pretty boy Praed, and a red haired, freckled, Saxon tomboy of a Marian to keep everybody on their toes.  There was nothing heroic or trumped up about Robin’s followers.  The characters were not written that way, nor were they played that way, but as everyday, ordinary people thrust by circumstances into extraordinary situations.  It’s a note that note rings true throughout the series.  Of course, opposing them at every turn was the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham, played by Nickolas Grace and his henchman, Sir Guy of Gisbourne.  The two characters were cast, written and played as opposite ends of a spectrum; Grace, short, dark and devious, is towered over by Addie’s  6’2″ of blond, barely-controled bully.

The sets and costumes are unusually authentic for television on either side of the pond in the late 1980s, and lets face it, Britain has a very unfair advantage over America when it comes to Medieval locations.  They don’t have to fake a Norman castle by building sets.  They can just go rent the real one up the road, which is another reason to watch.  If you like the Colin Morgan/Bradley James Merlin TV series on BBC America, you’ll like Robin of Sherwood.  They both have an engaging blend of myth, legend, magic, fantasy, and good looking blonds in chain mail.  (There’s a lot of Robin of Sherwood floating about on YouTube, including whole episodes, if you want to check it out and see if you think it’s worth springing for the DVD sets.)

I have to say, though, after watching the pilot episode, Robin and the Sorcerer, what kept me glued to the closing credits was the need to find out who did that wonderful music in the soundtrack.  My musical tastes were already off the beaten path (not that they were ever really on it); at the time, I had been wandering through the Narada catalog, but Clannad became  my gateway into to the amazing realm of Gaelic traditional music, and I’ve been in love with it ever since, not just with Clannad, but with the rich musical tradition they came out of.  The ethereal voice of their lead singer, (and Enya‘s big sister), Maire Brennan‘s has been showcased, but here it is again from Legend, the Robin of Sherwood soundtrack album:

One good song deserves another.

And good things come in threes.  My all time favorite Clannad song:

Sláinte!

Nap, Interrupted

Tags

kitties

The grey one was minding her own business, dozing peacefully on the footrest of the recliner, all curled up and snuggly between my knees, until the black one crept beneath the chair and poked up at her through the gap between the foot rest and the chair seat. (Have I mention what a little thug he is?)  A brief but rather intense skirmish ensued, and the grey one klunked her head against the underside of the desk at least twice during the swat fight.  Once he was satisfied that he’d made a complete nuisance of himself, the black one ambled off and is now snoozing at the end of the filing cabinet where, if I get up from my desk, I will have to step over him.  I step over cats a lot.  When I’m not cleaning up after one end of them or the other, that is.

Things were not quiet for long, however. An irate rrrAWWrrrowling from up the hall, and a drum roll of cat paws on carpet indicate the black one has ambushed the white one (again) and is chasing him through the house.  The white one will end up on top of one of the extra dining room chairs set against the wall (where his flank will be protected), and will have to fend the black one off by swatting at him furiously.  This will last just long enough to leave the white one seething and lashing his tail in annoyance for the next ten minutes.  If this were a cartoon, the black one would now be strolling leisurely back up the hall, trailing a thought balloon that read, “Heh-heh-heh.”

Gleanings

Tags

Brain Treats, Great Ideas

This Is Water

This is wow.

Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Robert Frost

Music + Cats = Win

Tags

Brain Treats, kitties, Music

I saw when I posted that last, that this one is my 275th post.  One of those silly milestones that people make a big deal about for no real reason.  So, here’s this, a video of a cat playing piano and a composer wrote a concerto around it.

Nora, the soloist, looks a lot like my grey one might if she was less svelt and more zaftig. Get the skinny on Nora here.

And just in case you haven’t gotten your minimum daily requirement of kitten cuteness yet . . . .

Oh, and some ducks get blown away.

These Are The Days of Miracles and Wonder*

Tags

Brain Treats, favorite things, Music

Oh, serendoogles.  Yes, they are delightful, and wonderful, and day-making, but what never ceases to amaze and move me are the truly marvelous, oh wow! treasures I keep running across while rummaging about in this marvelous attic cum flea market cum hall closet cum bargain basement we call the internet.  But this one left me literally in tears, because it was so beautiful, because it was so amazing, because it is such a  miraculous and incredibly human thing, and because — think about it! — never in the entire million-year history of humans has such a thing been possible until now.  These are indeed the days of miracles and wonder.

This Rube Goldberg concoction of microwaves, microprocessors, flint knives and bearskins we call the internet, for all it’s technological complexities, is only another tool in a long line of human tools. (This ability to make and use tools is arguably what made us humans.)  Whether a tool is used for criminal, harmful, hateful purposes, or to create wonder, joy and delight depends entirely on the intent of its user.  We never know when such a user will step up to the virtual plate and knock one out of the ballpark like this:

Eric Whitacre’s oeuvre of choral music is spine-tingling, mind blowing, and delight-provoking.  If you are one of the fortunate among us whose ears are hardwired into their hearts with nerve-strings that music touches like a harp, go find his music.  It’s out there — one of a multitude of secret gardens, albeit well-known secrets, like this one, that are tucked away all over the place, just waiting to be discovered. You can visit them any time you like, stay there as long as you want, and come back any time.  And TED talks?  They are humans at their best, brightest and most human sharing their humanity with the world and you can be a kid in their candy store and get free candy anytime you want to.

Here is Eric Whitacre’s aha! moment, the Kyrie from Mozart’s Requiem and a trio of virtual blooms from Eric Whitacre’s secret garden.

God, I love the internet.

* The Boy in The Bubble, © 1986 Paul Simon, hear the song here.

Just So You Know

Tags

Brain Treats, Tech Support

This is as sad as it is funny.

God, I love the interwebs. . .

I’ve Just Washed My Hands and I Can’t Do a Thing With Them …

Tags

computers, Reading, Work

The author Elizabeth Bear keeps a Live Journal blog wherein she chronicles the ins, outs, minutiae, incidentals, (oh, look, a squirrel), and vicissitudes of a writer’s life in the trenches, so to speak.  She charts her progress, reports on such statistical anomalies as “words Word doesn’t know” and makes note of what she refers to as “tyops.” (If you think about it, it will come to you…).  In the process, and with a supporting cast consisting of a housemate, a giant ridiculous dog and a dashing young fellow in Wisconsin, she has nothing up her sleeves, keeps all the balls in the air, and writes a rouser of a tale.  We cluster in awe in the comments section.

(The white one is singing in his sleep, which is a rather odd and unexpected noise to be coming out of a cat. One of those, “What the heck is that?” sounds it takes a moment to nail down.)

And after that 36-bar introduction, here’s the 8 bars of nitty gritty.   I’m working, pounding away on the second installment (13 minutes) of three guys brainstorming, trying to fix a film script, which is kind of fascinating actually (after having done a bit of free-hand engineering to jury rig a keyboard tray by laying a piece of 3/4-inch plywood across the arms of my chair).  (After 18 hours of intermittent episodes of sustained typing, my left wrist still hurts, but not so much as before, and in a different place.  Sigh.) The thing about transcribing, which is not unlike juggling, is proofreading as you type.  And the tyop of the night (drum roll, please) is: “Our character is learing and growing.”  Which would make him either a a limerick writer or a lascivious but well-nourished poor speller, . . .or maybe someone flying in a certain brand of jet. . .  Can you tell I’ve been at this since 9:30 yesterday morning?  Uhm-hm (affirmative).

Pockets

Tags

Self Image

On her Live Journal blog post for today, Rolanni (AKA Sharon Lee, co-perpetrator of the Liaden books) had a link to another LJ blog post that raised some very interesting questions about pockets, specifically the dearth thereof, in women’s clothes and autonomy, which you can read here, with a followup post here.

I find this discussion very interesting in terms of our culture and what this female sartorial pocketlessness says about it. (Yes, Virginia, there is a patriarchy.)  You might argue that women’s clothes don’t need pockets because they carry purses, but one could also argue that they have to carry purses because their clothes are made without pockets. (And we could cloud the issue by mentioning the so-called “man-purse” AKA “messenger bag,” and speculate as to whether both sexes of the backpack generation — with girls carrying them in lieu of a purse — will carry this habit into adulthood and beyond.)

Relevant to the discussion of clothing and autonomy, see also panniers, bustles, corsets, crinolines, foot binding, burqas, et al.

Fall Back And Punt

Tags

computers, kitties, Weather

Ill conceived idea, reusing the keyboard tray from my old desk.  Can’t make it fit.  The chair’s too tall, the desk is too narrow.  Alternate solution:  A board I can rest on the arms of my chair, letting out more cord for the keyboard from the neat bundle I’ve made of the slack, and setting the keyboard down on it.  I’ve got scraps of 3/4-inch plywood left from building the cat box modification thingie.  I may have to saw a piece down.  Still need to put the little lock thingie on the bottom of my laptop table.

A cold front has come through, It’s 42F/6C outside, not much warmer inside.  I’ve got a cotton long-sleeved long dress on, barefoot.  I’ve been sitting here reading my blogs and comics and stuff, the grey kitty is curled up between my knees, so nice and warm.  I’m hungry, my feet are freezing, but if I get up, I’ll disturb the kitty.  Such is love.