I Was Crying About This, But Everything Is OK Now

Hey! Doesn't the title of this post sound like a title of a Saddle Creek record? Like: Lifted, Or the Story Is in the Soil. Keep Your Ear to the Ground.

Anyway, in Canada as in other parts of the world like Wyoming, there are porcupines.

Porcupines have quills attached to their tails. When they get anxious or fearful, they use their quilled tails to fend off their would-be attackers. The result is the quills dislodge from the porcupines body and lodge in whatever gets sprayed by the porcupine's tail. It's a common misconception that porcupines shoot their quills.

I came across this picture of the aftermath (taken in a vet's office) of one very relentless pitbull's "interaction" with a plucky porcupine. I found it more fascinating than repulsive, but it is pretty amazingly horrifying, so click with warning. Some of you will cry like I did. Others will be less affected. The dog is absolutely fine. Apparently, the process for extracting quills isn't too hard. Mostly they don't get too deep in the skin. This dog had some stitches and has fully recovered. Here's the picture.


And now, something to cleanse your mind of that image: Ahhh....

Who Am I?

I Could Get Mad, But...

Looks like they've been at it since 2002.


NEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

I Have a Friend

Who likes to say, "Call my bitches" in place of "call me." Isn't that hilarious and daring? Innovative and a welcome addition to this evergrowing thing we call the English language? Try it.

CALL MY BITCHES
CALL MY BITCHES
CALL MY BITCHES
CALL MY BITCHES




i knew you'd love it.

Enjoyment Vehicles

Coleus

Coleus is what I'm going to plant in the garden. Especially now that I know what it is. It was so mysterious, showing up in potted urns and stuff. I might be ambitious and put it all over, though its probably best to stick it in a pot on the front steps. Isn't it so pretty? I just love the stuff.



Seattle's Town Hall

Something like a giant Congregationalist church, complete with many pewlike benches all fanning out from the center, Town Hall is a lovely place to hear someone smart read from their new book, or talk about poverty and injustice. While I haven't read the new Ehrehnrich book, I'm sure it will be much more engaging once it releases in paperback. The most interesting part of her talk was when she encouraged one woman in the audience to organize the other unemployed people in attendance to band together and try to make headway collectively in this very corrupt unfair situation of being simply unable to find a job. (Another nice thing about Town Hall is that it's situated in a very quaint half-block of 8th Avenue that reminds me, no, is the spitting image of several streets colonial tree-canopied streets in NW D.C. It also reminded me that I'm still such a tourist here. It's only been eight months and for a small city, there's a lot here.)

Guess What?! The Leaves Are Turning
No explanation necessary. What I can say is that it's dramatic. They're all hearing the call and making the switch to sweet, sweet, death. Leaves, may I introduce you to The Ground? Ha ha ha ha. No really. The ground is where you're going to live now. Yes, you'll be pretty and colorful, but dead, just so you know. Bring on the pomegranates.

Maybe You Have a Sense of Humor

And perhaps it's nearing that fun holiday in October where you are expected to cast away all aspersions. You might also know a dog. Then, I give you this, and, well, you probably expected it all along...

Question

Is it metrosexual or meterosexual?

Need to know. Doing a study.

Why?

Why fart (it wasn't me) in the office? Why subject people to breathing, dying in a windowless fart cloud of poopy stink?

In a Variation of Who Moved My Cheese...

I give you: Who Stole My Cheese. While I'll eagerly admit that it is hard to resist the Laughing Cow, even though this is subrate cheese, there's no good excuse for stealing cheese. Even if that cheese is defenseless and cute, sitting in the shared fridge, teetering on the edge of the community shelf waiting to be unwrapped.

Yesterday, I was feeling fancy and made a subrate cheese plate for my snack here at work. It was grapes, it was a bosc pear, and it was a little Laughing Cow.

I take all admonishments back. I probably would have stolen the cheese if I didn't already own it. In fact, who among us hasn't taken a few droplets of salad dressing, a little hot sauce here and there, maybe some unguarded mustard. Is it wrong or is it societal?

He's Smart to Plan Ahead

I'll give him that much.

Never Took the Time to Get Into

Greek mythology. Did you? I know it's just full of scandal and revenge and fire and mountains, all things I ordinarily like, and yet.... I would like to know the stories beyond what I remember from Harry Hamlin's Clash of the Titans. Great Thanksgiving tradition. That owl looks like a clock! Wait. It is a clock! Remember?

What do you know of say, Perseus? Vestibuleus, OK, I have to google some more names now, yes, Odysseus, Lamentius, Crysanthemuminus?

This Really Strikes a Chord

You all know I have that not-so-secret mistrust/fear of babies, right? I knew I wasn't alone, but I never thought of the peril of being covered in a pile of babies, struggling for breath, gasping for light...

Unguent knows.

(Little known fact about Unguent: He was my former boss! And, loyalist fan of IowaSnake!)

As it Turns Out

It's much harder to change your number than you may have guessed. Thanks, Cingular!

Owning a salad spinner is a true delight. Mine even has a brake.

Sunflowers are really overrated and largely a nuisance, unless they live in fields of thousands

Patience is still a virtue

There is a certain thing called Chicken Husbandry that I'm interested in

Sweet 100s are the only tomato I like raw

It's been a really long time since I clicked the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button on Google

Music Post Music Post Music Post Music Post!

The Doldrums

I Am the Cosmos

The Swimmer

NPR Alert: Opensource

So, there's a pretty great new show on NPR (up here at least) called Radio Opensource. It's hosted by Christopher Lydon, who's a pretty interesting host, though sometimes he reminds me of the fusty grandfather I never knew. Until now I pictured him as a fatter Wilfred Brimley. The other day there was a interesting little program on Wikipedia, the focus the fact that people believe Wiki is authorless, but indeed does have authors, agendas. But, I was only half-listening/half-folding clothes, so you'll have to trackback to the transcripts yourself, if you really want it know. Christopher Lydon always ellicits phone responses by saying, "Get in on the conversation." Like what the endive said to the butter lettuce, deep in conversation with the croutons, mind if i chive in?

Last night the panel on Opensource had what seemed to be a fun time cornering Grover Norquist with his kooky/cruel series of bad observations (one being that it was largely Louisiana's fault that so much of the city was destroyed by faulty levees--and the human suffering that ensued--since Mississippi didn't fare as badly). Lydon kept him on the line as long as he could though Norquist had awful cell phone reception. Then we all endured a little hissy fit by Grover.
I'd pictured him as a baldy combover, thin, needing sleep, holding an entire luggage set under his tired eyes. But instead, he's very middlin', very Boston Chicken, very Mutual of Omaha. Radio Opensource

You will like it. You like blogs. It's a blog too.

If not, try this: This is just plain silly!

That's Called the Ken Burns Effect

If you were wondering.