Mourning Cloak

I did not take this picture, since the camera batteries DIED AGAIN while on my walk through the woods. The only other picture I had today was a mediocre crocus shot, and I thought I'd spare you another insipid fruit photo, so I borrowed the mourning cloak from Wikipedia.

Playful

Hard to get a good action shot.

Fur is coming back in (mostly - belly still bare).

Citrus

Minneola - not just a town in Kansas.

Da Spring is Sprung

Da grass is riz
I wonder where dem boidies is?

Viola

Did not plant vegetable seeds this weekend, because the bag of gardening soil I picked up at English Gardens was a cubic foot of compacted mud.

Standoff

Gander: None shall pass!

Humans: Excuse us? We have a Nissan. Goose vs. Nissan. Think about it. Perhaps you'd like to reconsider.

Gander: I deny you and your rattletrap import!

Humans: We also have an excellent recipe for roast goose with port gravy.

Goose: Honey? Honey! They have opposable thumbs! They probably really can make port gravy.

Gander: The roasting pan that can hold me hasn't been made yet!

Humans: (inching car around) We'll see about that.

Goose: Honey? Honey! Get off the road!

Gander: Very well. But you haven't seen the last of me, humans! This isn't over! I honk to the sky!

Not My Vendetta!

Until recently, my e-mail inbox has been amazingly free of spam. Then one fateful day I accidentally opened one, and the spamgates burst. The spam is easily corralled in the junk folder, and so I find it less of annoyance than a source of some mirth and inspiration.

For instance, I really want to send away for the miser sample. I want to compose a song called "No! No, Baudelaire!" maybe a loud, jazzy swing number mashed up with a rap of morbid lyrics from Les Fleurs du Mal. I want to know the nutritional information for Bacchus Ensure and to design the packaging. And I'm terribly sorry Marie Mccord had to find out this way that her s.o. is tired of dating her.

TGIF

Product Review: Burt's Bees Lip Shimmer

"Luminescent and sheer color in The World's Best Lip Balm!" purchased at CVS for $3.99.

Color: Labeled as "Merlot" and depicted as a deep purply red. I was disappointed as soon as I snapped off the cap, because no wine I've ever seen is this color. Watermelon-Cherry Kool-Aid, yes. Wine, no.

Application: Very soft and sloppy. Immediately smudged over lip.

Feel: It burns! It burns! Burt, tell the bees to lay off the peppermint oil - it burns!

Grade: F for misrepresentation of color. If anyone orders any Watermelon-Cherry Kool-Aid, I'm leaving. I am not drinking any fucking Kool-Aid.

Possibly the Hottest Vegetarian Chili Ever Made

Good thing I had plenty of cheap beer on hand.

Happy Spring

Will probably put the arugula and the radishes in this weekend.

Lady Cardinal

Ohio Sky

State Route 162 in Huron County, Ohio, near absolutely nothing.

Yesterday's Photo

A cloud of starlings billows across Ohio State Route 83 near Belden, in Lorain County.

Damn Daylight Savings Time

Some of us take a little longer to adjust to the time change.

Ides of March Link Farm

Patron Saints of Graphic Design: I especially like St. Exacto's bleeding, amputated finger.
City Birder: A pintail roosts in Brooklyn. Be sure to scoll down for Ivory Gull (!).
Possibly one of the most-linked items this week: A recent eyetrack study shows "there was a distinct difference in focus between men and women" who were asked to look at an image of a baseball player. I would have thrown the results off, since I always check out the package.

Waiting for Her Suitor

A male cardinal has discovered the feeder and he's been dropping by for a twilight snack for a few evenings now. Today it's raining and overcast, everything's flat and gray, and when I heard the cardinal chirping outside the window, I decided a bright red bird would probably make the best picture the day was going to offer.

Except I forgot to turn the flash off, and all I got was a huge lens flare off the window. The cardinal was not frightened away by the flash, as birds often are. A female perched in the nearby maple had initially escaped my notice, but not his. I turned the flash off and watched as he selected a sunflower seed and flew up to her branch. I zoomed in as he offered his gift; she leaned in; their beaks touched; a red light started blinking; CHANGE THE BATTERIES.

Damn damn damn damn damn. Why are these rechargeables only worth three or four shots?

Why Did the Goose Cross the Road?

Because the light was green.

The Desert Blooms After the Rains

This African violet came to my household last February, a gift from one of the writers' group members. I told her at the time that she was consigning the poor thing to almost certain death. Over the years the cat and I have managed to kill several cacti, baskets of peace lillies, a dieffenbachia, five unlucky bamboo stalks, and even a hoya that was marketed to me as "indestructible." Plants under my tender care and ministration do much better if they fend for themselves outside.

This plucky thing put out flowers for the first time after I noticed the "potting medium" the plant was in had in fact become a "potting brick" and I left it under a running tap for fifteen minutes.

Ann Arbor Snooze

Dear Ann Arbor News:

This is a picture of my front step. Something is missing. Do you know what it is? Yes, that’s right, the Sunday morning newspaper is missing. For the third time in eight weeks.

Without your newspaper, how will I reread all the AP wire stories I read online last night? How will I know where Madonna had lunch in 1977, or whether students still put tatty old couches on their porches? How will I even know ZOMG!!! THERE R STUDENTZ HEAR!!!!1111 if I don’t read your columnists? Will I survive art fair without a two-page Art Fair Survival spread?

I acknowledge that when I called two weeks ago about my missing paper, I received a Monday and Tuesday paper that week, even though I don’t subscribe to the daily. That was sweet of you to try to make up with me. But here I am paperless again.

Look, I subscribe to a Sunday morning newspaper because I like the experience of perching my glasses on my nose and rustling the pages around while I sip a mug of milky breakfast tea. Note that says breakfast. Not lunch. You have to understand that your newspaper is not my source for news. Rather, it’s part of my personal experience, my weekly glasses-perching, tea-sipping ritual. Whether I’m rustling the pages of the Ann Arbor News or the Detroit Free Press doesn’t make all that much difference to me.

Catch my drift?

"Do you like my Gucci bag?"

"That's beautiful, beautiful."

Bulletin

Playin' with curves in Photoshop

Despite the atrophy of my writing abilities, as evidenced by last night's vague post, I have once again been selected for publication in the Huron River Review. I have been asked to submit a short bio of two or three sentences. Law School P. suggests starting off with "Fell off the train, bounced twice, and landed in Ann Arbor."

Three Wishes for International Women's Day

I wish "women's issues" would become human issues. I'm tired of women being blamed for rape. I'm tired of women being blamed when contraception fails. I'm really, really angry about the sexual abuse of children. I'd like to see men and boys better educated on their responsiblities (and their rights).

I wish there were more positive role models for girls in the media. I'm tired of identifying with male characters, or with no characters at all, because female characters are flat, stereotyped, or non-existent. I am horrified at the pornification of nearly everything just to make a few bucks.

I wish my liberal, progressive brethern would examine their participation in and support of sexism. I've thought this long before last week's Ann Coulter bashing. The other night my boyfriend declared himself a feminist. Yet, when I was upset about being harassed on the street, his response was, "Well, you are a good looking woman," and excused the harassers. I'm tired of "boys will boys" excuses and "why can't you take a joke?" and "oh, I would never say that about you, honey." The fact that K. honestly, unironically applied the term "feminist" to himself is a glimmer of hope in what for me looks like a bleak landscape. I'd like more men to declare themselves feminists, and then actually walk the walk and talk the talk.

These are only three wishes. I have a lot more. They get complicated, though, and I haven't had time to hash them all out. It's taken me an hour just to get this. Some dinner would probably help...

Feline Secrets Revealed

Found out what the cat does when I'm gone all day: she does back to bed.

Nippy Bud

Yo, what the hell people? A week ago, it's 40º, I come up outta da ground, and blam! today it's, like, 17º or sumthin. Seriously, people. What the hell? Hey - put that leaf back on me, wouldja? Thanks. Catch ya in a bit.

For the New Arrival

I did not post this when I finished the sweater in December because it was a surprise for the expectant parents.

Knit with Sockotta self-striping yarn, color #5613, on size 1 and 2 straight needles. Matching buttons were a fortunate find at Hancock Fabrics.

Cloudy March Sky

Good Hair Day

I held out hope that I would get a picture of the newly-risen, partially-eclipsed moon, but alas, the cloud cover, trees, and street lights have obscured that phenomenon.

So here's me instead. I originally 'shopped out my eye bags, but then I put 'em back in, 'cuz, ya know, they're there.

When I Grow Up, I Want to be a Bounty Hunter

I had no idea that one needed a degree, from an online institution or anywhere else, to become a bounty hunter. Then again, I didn't exactly look it up in Peterson's when I was choosing a college either.

I like how the accountant and CPA are interchangeable. I like the binary Lego counselor. I imagine them going around and around like a double star for about three years until one burns out. And what the hell is the graphic designer wearing? An old skool t-shirt? That should be a bathrobe.

In Like a Lion

Freezing rain on holly.