The 28th
When I was a kid, my dad would often make Egg-In-The-Hole for breakfast on the weekends and, for some reason, the little circle of bread that gets cut out of the bread always seemed to taste better than a whole slice of bread. I’ve never been great at making eggs of any sort. A fried or poached egg is pretty simple but when it comes to cooking good scrambled eggs or omelettes I’m completely lost because I always mess them up or they never turn out as good as everyone else’s. The only exception was a fantastic omelette I made not long ago so perhaps I’m finally getting the knack for cooking eggs because today I cooked an Egg-In-The-Hole to perfection. As simple as Egg-In-The-Hole is I often screw it up somehow but not so this time: no burnt bread; no egg stuck to the pan; no leaking or hard yolk; no slimy, half-cooked whites; and the crusts had ample runny yolk for dipping. I was impressed and satisfied with my breakfast which is always a good way to start the day.
The 27th
I went to Carol’s book launch tonight for her novel Hide Your Life Away down at Shayli’s studio. She started with a poetry reading, accompanied by Pat on guitar who lent some atmospheric weirdness to the event, then read a couple of sections from her novel that I thought were hilarious. I can only imagine how nervous she must have been reading that type of material in front of relatives and friends. But she did a great job and I really hope she sells a lot of books. I got her to sign a copy for me and hopefully I’ll finish reading it before 2011.
There was free coffee too which led to me becoming over-caffeinated while I chatted and caught up with Jason and April who I hadn’t seen in awhile. Then I drove out to K’town for the after-party back at Troy and Carol’s. Only I could manage to get lost in a tiny town with like five streets.
The 26th
My new keyboard has been giving me grief. It has nothing to do with the lack of keys I’m so used to and miss dearly from full-size keyboards. The problem centers around the all-important caps lock key. I noticed pretty early on after getting the keyboard that this particular key wasn’t as responsive as other the keys; stubborn would be a good word to describe its uncooperative temperament. Then the little green light wouldn’t come on at times so I had no way of knowing whether or not the difficult key was just being a brat or if the caps lock was actually on but not lit up. It was time to take advantage of that warranty Apple provided with my new computer.
I got through to them without any problem and a very friendly Australian fellow handled the case for me, saying they would send out a replacement keyboard right away. When the time came to verify all of my information he asked for my email address which was, in this case, one of the many random accounts I have collected over the years and I realized the irony of it as I recited “kangaroosniffer@…”. The guy immediately started laughing his head off, which was great because my explanation that it wasn’t some derogatory term for Aussies wasn’t really needed. He said he didn’t very often get an email address from a customer that he’d remember for the rest of his life but in this case it couldn’t help but be stuck in his head. This led to me explaining that a friend wanted a new email address but didn’t know what to use so I suggested just sticking a couple of random words together like kangaroo and sniffer. I ended up liking that combination so well I set up the account for myself, not realizing that some day it would ultimately lead to making a stranger of Australian origin laugh.
The 25th
This afternoon was so nice that I decided to take full advantage of the fine weather and sit outside on the back step with a coffee and a magazine, watching a chickadee pick through the feed in the bird feeder. It really felt like it was June again and I’d be damned if I was going to waste this summer-y weather sitting in the house all day. This will no doubt be the last of such nice days for the rest of the year after all.
The nice day gave way to a nice night so I hit the streets to go for a walk, making a pit stop back at the house to get my camera and tripod. I’ve become a little obsessed with night photography on my little camera with the long exposures but I usually get some pretty terrible results unless I can find a spot to set the camera down to eliminate shake. The tripod gave me some more options than the two-inches-off-the-pavement-style shots I’m used to taking. And what better place to take photos than at the power station at the end of Milton Avenue?
While nothing spectacular really comes out of this camera, I was surprised by how much sharp detail I was getting compared to everything else I’ve been taking. And while I didn’t really care about passing motorists as I stood in the street with a tripod-mounted camera at 1 a.m., next time I think I’m going to take my little tripod to be a bit less conspicuous.
The 24th
I had to get outside to go for a walk tonight. I haven’t gone for a late night walk in a while and I used to go a few times a week, sometimes every night. Sure it’s great to be out on a sunny afternoon or clear evening but it’s generally so quiet at night I would much rather go when the moon is high in the sky and everyone is in bed instead of out walking their dogs. Even though it’s starting to get cool out after dark I really need to get out more and enjoy the nice nights before the snow and cold come.
Tonight was a good night for a walk and just as I was coming back home I heard a noise and stopped to see what the hell darted away from the bins through the bushes. After my eyes adjusted I could see this raccoon hanging from the neighbour’s tree, not moving a muscle, probably waiting for the weirdo with the camera to stop taking pictures of him so he could go back to rooting through coffee grinds, egg shells and other juicy compost bits.
The 23rd
After a few days with my new iMac, its wireless input devices are starting to make me long for the days of old when my keyboard and mouse were tethered to my Mac. I don’t miss USB at all and the mouse isn’t a problem, I’m getting quite used to the Mighty Mouse actually. It’s this itty bitty wireless keyboard. I ordered it without realizing it was different than the full-size USB keyboard. The feel is great, it looks great, it works great but I miss the number pad, the backspace button and other buttons like the page up and down. I used the number pad a lot, so much so that going through a day working at the computer without it feels like I’m missing a couple of fingers or something. I keep going to use it but all I reach for is empty space above my desk. I have phantom number pad syndrome.
Then there’s dealing with code on a daily basis, the constant jumping around, editing and deleting in Dreamweaver while not having a backspace button is frustrating and getting on my nerves. Why Apple didn’t make the wireless keyboard the same size as the USB version makes no sense to me. I’d like to know the reasons Apple’s design team had for lopping part of the keyboard off on the right side, and why they didn’t make full and short versions of both types of keyboards for people who want some options. Friggers. It’s making for some clumsy typing but I refuse to buy a separate keypad or to exchange this keyboard for a USB one even though using the number row for the calculator hurts my brain. I’m sure I’ll fall into a rhythm soon enough but until then I’m going to curse Apple’s designers for this one oversight every time I search around for the right operator keys that are spread all over the board to do measurement calculations.
Maybe I should just get better at doing math in my head.
The 19th
As a huge surprise and now giving me lots of geeky stuff to do this weekend, my iMac was delivered today and I immediately got down to business setting it up. Upon sliding the slender, anodized aluminum beauty from its box and placing it on the kitchen table, I sat back to stare at its large and lovely 24" display and gently caressed its smooth, metallic curves. Yes, a delicious bit of tech it is. Technolust must be a sin. We should get a room.
In a few steps I had the wireless mouse and keyboard detected, and was off to the races setting up the OS and messing about with Leopard. I was already very, very, very happy with my purchase. Then it was time to clean out the office and start with backing up and transferring data from the G4. Fun.
I can’t believe how much space I have on my desktop and how many fewer cords I have intertwining in a mess of madness behind my desk now that the iMac has found its new home in my little office. It’s so sparse I feel kind of lonely without the glut of monitors and a monolithic tower eating up 75% of my desk space. A brand new computer with a fresh OS waiting to be explored and customized; it’s like Xmas came early this year. Now I’m able to monkey around with my iPod touch until I get friction burns on my finger tips, and can mess about with all of the latest iLife apps I’ve been reading up on. Everything is so shiny, glossy and new. Ah, this is all so glorious.
The 17th
I’ve been waiting to get my hands on one of these since the iPhone was first introduced. I knew it wouldn’t be long until Apple released the iPhone’s less communicative but still just as handsome and talented little brother. And while this iPod touch isn’t the brand spanking new one with external volume buttons, speaker and built-in GPS (where do I go where I would ever need that anyway?), it’s pretty much the same in all other respects. The fact that I got a deal on it when I bought an iMac is even better. Compared the the old yet stalwart brick version of an iPod I was using up until today, this svelte little number certainly feels nicer and lighter in the hand and I can’t wait to get it hooked up to my new iMac when it shows up. I was surprised how quickly the iPod got here but now I will probably have to wait until next week for the iMac, which means I’ll spend the weekend wringing my hands, pacing back and forth, looking at this new, empty digital vessel just waiting to be filled with music, photos, videos and all sorts of useless apps and crap.
The 16th
I had appointments again in Halifax yesterday, basic follow-up stuff and a chance for me to ask more questions I forgot about during my last visit. Serge needed a lift back to the city so we headed out early in the morning and he got to witness my horrible direction sense first hand. After dropping him off I headed over to the new offices the department had re-located to and was actually early for a change…something very unusual to be sure.
Some docs came in to meet me and go over the results of my last MRI, one of them took a gander inside my ear after I asked him about the bump inside the canal. He broke out the fancy ear cam and snaked it down the canal of my good ear to show me the difference between the two ears. He explained that the bump wasn’t swelling or something that would go away but they, in fact, shortened my ear canal. So its not any kind of blockage whatsoever but the actual end of my ear canal sitting a short distance from the opening. Strange but at least I know it’s not something that’s wrong with my ear itself and my question about it let me see my inner ear on the TV.
When the medical team was finished with me one of them asked if I had time (which I had plenty of) to participate in a study for this device called BAHA. I don’t remember what it stands for but I was brought into the audiology room where the lovely, friendly, and very pregnant technician explained to me how the thing worked before putting a headset-type-of-thing on me where this little device rested against the back of my skull on my deaf side. Essentially the device has a microphone that transmits the audio signal through the skull as vibrations and a person’s ear will detect the vibrations as sound, similar to how putting a tuning fork against your skull lets you hear the tone.
Once she made sure my good ear was sound-proofed and I couldn’t hear a bloody thing, she flicked on the device I could suddenly hear her talking as if through a tiny radio speaker. It was weird not only because it was like she had plugged a microphone into my head but it was like I was hearing sound through my right ear again. It was relaying the signal to my good ear but it’s all about perception and apparently people with the devices can eventually train themselves to detect which side the audio is coming from even though it’s going to the same ear. Makes perfect sense to me seeing as the difference in quality between the two audible signals is quite a bit different.
I don’t think that little bit of technology is something I would want though. The headset arrangement is one thing, it’s another to have them embed a connecter in your head that the little box attaches too. If I had a thick, lustrous head of hair I might consider it but when you’re as bald as I am I’d only end up looking like a Borg noob in the first stage of assimilation.
With an afternoon of fascinating ear-related medical revelations behind me, I headed over to Shawn and Bryanna’s to see what the plan was for the evening. I had bought a ticket Neil couldn’t use for the Bloc Party show at The Marquee that night but some food prior to the show was in order. The three of us went to Talay Thai where I had an amazing plate of pad thai and literally the best spring rolls I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. Yet another new favourite restaurant to re-visit next time I go back to Halifax.
Later on we walked from their place up to The Marquee where a short line up had already begun to form and the security was checking everyone’s ID, turning away anyone without a valid one trying to get into the show. A couple of guys ahead of us started putting up a stink because one dude didn’t have his on him and they were told to hit the road. Their ruined night and wasted tickets made them even louder and then the insults started flying, to which security responded to by having four guys chase them down to the corner and rough them up a bit. It was quite a loud, awkwardly entertaining pre-show before we were admitted into the club.
This was the first time I had ever set foot inside The Marquee and it was to see a band I had hardly ever listened to and knew nothing about. I was more familiar with the opener, Apostle of Hustle, who I had seen play before and was looking forward to seeing again. They got up on stage and were almost immediately plagued with electrical problems. When they weren’t losing power to certain mics or amps they were losing power altogether, prompting Andrew Whiteman to entertain the crowd while everyone scrambled to fix the problem. The set they were able to play was great but ultimately they had to pack it in soon after, leaving everyone to wonder what the hell was in store for Bloc Party when they end up taking the stage.
Turns out there weren’t any problems at all for Bloc Party and they came out and played an amazing show that was undoubtedly one of the most energetic shows I had ever been to. It helped that the band seemed to be super into it too and genuinely happy to be playing for the crowd. What really struck me was how unbelievably good the sound was even with my ear plug in, and the light show was pretty neat too even if the lights did tend to be blinding at certain angles. The place was packed and looked to be full of fans, the band not only came out for an encore but they played several encores and the energy in the place was crazy. Taking a cue from some people who were crowd surfing earlier and risking getting thrown out, the singer jumped into the audience, made his way up to the platform where the video screen was off to the side of the club, and crowd surfed at the very end. Of course, being at the back of the place by this point I somehow missed all of that excitement.
Having gone into the show without any expectations and hardly knowing any of their music, Bloc Party really blew me away, and I think everyone else at The Marquee for that matter. The ticket was well worth the money and I sort of felt bad that Neil wasn’t able to actually use it to go see the show for himself.
Back out in the street after the show, the cool night air was pretty chilly after all the sweating in the club. The three of us walked back but I left Shawn and Bryanna so that I could go into the Alehouse to check out The Metric System, maybe meet up with Serge or some other familiar faces, and hopefully bring up the whole backyard fireworks incident to some of the band members. I’ve been wanting to see these guys play forever but, as my luck would dictate, only caught the last thirty seconds of a set before they took a break. Then not only did I not see anyone I knew milling around during the break but it seemed to be taking forever and got the impression that perhaps since the place was dead that they might have called it quits for the night.
Oh, well. I made my way back to the house but not before stopping into Venus Pizza to pick up a delicious and sloppy chicken shawarma for a bed time snack. And, really, what better bed time snack is there other than a greasy, garlicky shawarma that you taste for days after eating it?
Today, before heading back to the island, Jordan dropped by the house to join me and Shawn for a little stroll down along the boardwalk on a gloriously beautiful, warm, sunny day. The objective for this seaside outing wasn’t about exercise and male bonding, it was about entering a sacred place known as Sugah. Yes, Sugah. The place where they hand-paddle various fudges into scoops of ice cream right before your eyes. I had chocolate fudge mixed in with mint ice cream but made the mistake of getting it in a cup instead of a waffle cone. For some reason I thought it would be a waffle bowl instead of a plastic cup but the ice cream/fudge combination was so good on its own that it didn’t really make a lick of difference (pun intended). And nothing says “part of this nutritious breakfast” better than fudge and ice cream, now is there?
On the way back home I believe I stopped into Springhill for a fill-up and came across a cool looking, worn-down garage. There was just something about the peeling white, orange and blue paint, the disrepair and the neglect that I needed to get a few snapshots of. Why do old, weathered and crumbling things have such appeal to some people? I’ll have to find some papers about the psychology of this to read up on. Because I do that so often.
The 13th
Nathan had a gig down at Green Shore in this gigantic tent for the Summerside Roots & Folk Festival tonight. When I had gone down to the waterfront I wasn’t sure where the hell I was supposed to go because it looked as though everything was fenced off so that people had to enter by some temporary construction down by the water. I told the security guard at the gate that Nathan had put me on the guest list but he seemed confused and had to go ask someone. One of the organizers just waved me in and said it was ok. Within a few minutes of walking around, and seeing people eating hot dogs and drinking beer, I realized I was in the wrong spot. The entrance to the tent was entirely separate from this thing which was for some kiteboarding foolishness. As usual, I ended up going to the entirely wrong place, confusing people and myself, and then leaving while people stare at me like I’m some intruder. Nice to know my name was approved for some imaginary guest list for an entirely different event, though.
I did get into the tent and met up with Greg, even though the people at the door there didn’t seem to even know there was a guest list. But there wasn’t any hassle getting in and getting a seat so that’s all I cared about. There wasn’t much of a crowd, probably because of the big show at the other end of the Island with Alanis or something. I’m guessing that put a dent in their numbers.
Dale and Serge, who came over from Halifax last night, were backing Nathan, and Meaghan Smith joined them on stage for a song. I was hoping to see her play but I missed her entire set unfortunately, and then decided to skip The Cottars as it wasn’t really my thing. The five of us did, actually, and hung out in a band trailer out back. The festival went all out and got the entertainers their own trailers which seemed excessive for a festival of that size. It was kind of fun to just be hanging out in a trailer, even though it just felt like I was staying at Twin Shores on someone’s camping lot.
The fellas tried to cash in a handful of free beer tickets but when the bar in the kiteboarding building turned them down because they had closed up they decided to head down to The Heritage instead. I decided to not put myself through awkwardness and boredom for the night’s final hours so I just stayed home instead. SNL trumps The Heritage any day.
The 12th
After waffling over what to buy as a replacement for my trusty but now venerable G4 500 dual-processor for quite some time, I finally settled on a new 3.06GHz 24" iMac and an iPod touch to go with it. I really, really wanted a shiny new Mac Pro but I couldn’t justify the cost, and since I couldn’t afford a lovely Cinema Display to accompany it I also couldn’t justify keeping two giant, energy-sucking CRT monitors hooked up to it. A big, flat-screen iMac with a tiny footprint would fit the bill nicely and free up a lot of desk space. Hopefully it will lower the electricity bill too.
Reviews of the new iMacs say that they are finally at a point where they have enough power and features to be considered a good machine for designers who feel a Mac Pro is beyond their budget (e.g. me). So once I decide to drop the cash for CS4 and some more RAM, this iMac will really seem like a sensible purchase by showing up my sluggish G4’s performance.
A new iPod will be nice to have too seeing as I‘ve been drooling over the iPhone and touch designs for a while now. I was hesitant to click that Buy Now button on Apple’s site but it will be worth it once a slender new iMac and iPod are sitting on my desk, and I get to pour over the new Leopard features and applications.
Why do I enjoy setting up new Macs so much? Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such a geek but who wouldn’t be excited to own a fancy new computer and one of them portable music/video/photo/application devices with the screen you poke at with your fingers?
The 11th
My big toe is swollen and sore, and can only be on its way to having a full-blown ingrown toenail. I looked up the symptoms and made the rather regrettable mistake of looking up images of ingrown toenails. The blood, pus, infected tissue, nail avulsions and other abscessed sights made my stomach turn. Needless to say, my little foray into the gory galleries full of horribly swollen toes in all of their harsh, discoloured, medical-photo glory was a very short one.
When I was a kid I remember my dad always having an ingrown toenail that he treated with some kind of solution in a little, orange bottle and stuffed cotton underneath the nail. First of all, I had no idea why the hell he had to do that and, secondly, the concept that something could be crammed between the nail and the skin has always freaked me out. Reminds me of the torture involving sharpened slivers of wood that get jammed under a captive’s fingernails. Just thinking of that just makes me squirm.
My friend Andy used to have an ingrown toenail when we were in junior high. I don’t think he looked after it to the same extent my dad did because the end of his sock was frequently soaked through with blood and pus. Someone stepped on his toe once in the hallway at school and I could only imagine the pain that must have shot through him at that moment, probably giving his sneaker a good amount of squish for the rest of the day. But the gross-out factor wasn’t nearly as shocking as it was when I was a little kid. In fact, the insensitive, teenage style of humour was rampant then (some might argue it still is to some extent) and I remember presenting Andy with an extremely exaggerated, gore-tastic rendering of his bare, ingrown toenail. It oozed pus and shot a frenzy of blood everywhere in the cold, blue style distinct to ball point pen “art” on loose leaf. I may have used markers for added effect, I‘m not quite sure. There was also some sort of sarcastic caption along the lines of “I really do think it’s getting better, guys.”
He eventually had the nail or at least a portion of it removed, and I believe I got to see my first glimpse of a smooth, fleshy, nail-less big toe. It’s unnatural. Sort of an amputee stump look about it. Between his gory toe turned nubby digit and the spinal tap he had a few years afterwards, I was introduced to a couple of very specific medical procedures that make me more than squeamish. I just hope I don’t have to end up with a toe like his because if it hurts this bad now I can only guess at how bad it might hurt and throb once it turns into a gruesome shoe-soaker.
The 10th
I went in for an eye exam today to have the optometrist look into what’s been making my eye drive me crazy and to see if I need new glasses. Last time I went in I had so much gunk in my eye to keep it lubricated that not only couldn’t she tell if there was a scratch on my eye but she couldn’t do a proper eye exam either. This time I didn’t put anything in my eye to avoid another botched appointment but because my eye was feeling better anyway I didn’t really need stuff in it. It all worked out in a way and she told me there didn’t appear to be any scratch on my eye but it did show signs of severe dryness which explains the irritation. I guess I’m going to be relying on a bottle of drops for my eye for the rest of my life now, who knows. Bloody things are expensive too. At least I don’t need new glasses yet.
The 8th
It being such a nice afternoon I decided to grab a magazine and a cup of coffee, and go out on the back step to enjoy the weather even if only for fifteen minutes or so. No sooner had I sat down than I noticed this big, disgusting creepy-crawler lurking a few inches away from me. I snapped a couple of photos but getting that close to it so I could switch to macro mode was unnerving. I hate spiders; especially big, black, puffy ones with neon yellow and white markings. Blame Arachnophobia. Blame me for being a pansy.
That weird thing probably came off some South American banana crate and was just waiting for its chance to pounce on me so it could bite me with mandibles dripping with some kind of neurotoxic or necrotizing poison. Next thing you know I’d be off to the hospital looking for an antidote and a skin graft, or just plain dead. My plan to enjoy the sunshine was ruined, I had to go back inside.
The 7th
I started the process of transferring all of the old TV dubs I have of The Mighty Hercules on VHS to DVD. Everything about the show is endlessly classic but there are sound effects in that cartoon that I find to be some of the most memorable ever. In my opinion, they sit right up there with the ptwip of Spider-Man’s web shooters, the quee-quo-quih-quih-queh of The Transformers, and the pew-pew-pew-pew of a G.I. Joe/Cobra laser fight.
The pure ding of Herc’s magic ring. The spacey chaos generated by sceptres, wands or any number of magical devices. The hollow, guttural hiss of various monsters and beasts. I would pay a handsome fee to get my hands on a disc full of those sound effects, isolated from music and dialogue, for any use I can think of. I’d pay an equally hefty sum to get my nostalgic mitts on a disc of all the incidental music and recurring themes from the show.
While the sound effects, music and voices used in The Mighty Hercules will forever be burned into my brain, my absolute favourite character from the cartoon has one of THE best villain laughs ever devised. Daedalus the Wizard cannot be topped, as far as I’m concerned, and like many of the other characters such as Hercules and Newton who had two different voices at points in the series, Daedalus had two distinct and equally amazing villainous laughs. The first was his insane, raspy cackle. The second was his heartier, more nasal cackle. Either way you cut it, both cackles couldn’t be more appropriate for the masked, bearded and mustachioed wizard in the draping, purple cloak. The painting of him still adorns the wall of my old basement bedroom.
The 6th
TV was an ever-present influence during my formative years. Early weekday mornings were spent watching cartoons like Astro Boy, the Rankin Bass classics like Pinocchio or The Wizard of Oz, The Pink Panther, or even Teddy Ruxpin before school with my brother and sister. Noon-hour staples like He-Man and Inspector Gadget were watched intently as I absently stuffed my face with a peanut butter sandwich during the summer breaks. I was glued to the tube from daybreak to sometime in the early afternoon with the plethora of Saturday morning cartoon offerings like G.I. Joe, Transformers, Thundercats, Voltron, The Smurfs…the list goes on forever.
When I was in after school care at a day care at least a portion of the afternoon was spent with all of the kids crammed into a room with the curtains drawn, the TV illuminating the room from atop a dresser. All of our young eyes stared up unblinking at the screen while a number of cartoons were put on to appease and preoccupy us. Well, that is unless we were fighting over which group got to watch their shows that day. The boys wanted to watch Gobots, the girls wanted to watch Jem but we all had to sit through either show no matter whose turn it was. I’m not sure who picked The Monchichis, might have been a gender-neutral day.
In any case, if memory serves, these afternoon shows were always on ASN, and this channel has been using the same bumper between shows for I don’t know how long now. The classic-of-classics bumper (which may or may not go back to the mid-’80s) showed the ASN logo over a moving background of tiled, faded ASN logos to a bad synthy song. What made it so very, very special and memorable was the bassy drum machine tom fill and a split second of crunchy guitar at the end. I had been making fun of that terribly outdated bumper for years, my hatred for it growing into an ironic soft spot as I waited for that buh-duh-dum, buh-duh-dum fill. The graphics and music were so awful that it was really getting to the point of nonsense that this channel would still have such a dated station ID.
Well, that’s all changed now as ASN caught the branding bug and is now known simply as A. They also produced a whole new design and style for their logo and motion graphics to support their single-letter moniker. I have to admit that the fat letter A has begun to grow on me a bit, mostly due to its simplicity, though it has a suspicious similarity to the Fox Television searchlight motif. But I’ll take it when compared to that italicized, white-stroked, deeply drop-shadowed little number they used to have.
The new A logo is worlds better than its predecessor, and so too are the motion graphics they use for bumpers and station IDs, but something doesn’t sit quite right with me. While I think the animation they developed for the logo is slick and a feast for the eyes with its extruded layers and shafts rotating and zipping toward the viewer, the type choice used in the bumpers seems odd to me. I’m not exactly sure what typeface is being used, maybe its just the colour palette and that specific face combined, but to me it seems much more suited to a channel like Sci-Fi or Space.
To be honest, it makes me feel weird to watch it. I can’t explain my initial gut reaction to the elements and colours they used. Somehow it felt dated even though its undoubtedly modern. Maybe I’m biased by all of those years of the sad logo/bumper combo which stand in such stark contrast to the new identity. Maybe part of me is longing for the heavy, berry-like palette of blues, purples and magentas they once used. Perhaps all of this white space and sparse, crisp graphics offer such vacancy for the eyes that I can’t help but feel a vacancy within myself. It is forcing a reaction from me that is one of rejection for such unfamiliar and open design despite its obviously superior design and logical appeal.
Or perhaps I’m simply left unfulfilled by the lack of a sweet roto-tom fill.
The 4th
My late night snacks are usually apple slices and cheese or a bowl of cereal but I satisfied last night’s snack fix with a pan full of fried mini chickpea cakes. The recipe only called for them to be baked but the big batch I had made earlier demanded crispy sides. Baking them first makes for less gooey cakes which are perfect for setting aside for later frying, which (as we all know) makes everything better.
The 3rd
My sister invited me out to her and Jason’s for dinner so I jumped in the truck with Dad and the two mutts to head out there for a free, home-cooked meal. As we sat eating some kind of tasty chicken in gravy-type sauce over a big plate of egg noodles, Calvin started acting like a weirdo and jumped up on top of the fridge in the blink of an eye just to sit there staring at us eat from on high. Maybe he was curious to see what the humans were having for dinner and knew jumping on the table while we were eating was bad manners.
Calvin’s doing stupid stuff like that all the time, even climbing up the cement basement walls to a tiny window he can barely fit into to look outside…just because he can. Or maybe it’s because cats don’t have hobbies, like reading, amateur photography or knitting, so they act out instead to while away the time and to show off their jumpin’ muscles.
The 2nd
Hurray! My eye is driving me crazy again. There’s nothing quite like staring at a computer screen all day trying to do work while one eye feels like it’s got a sliver of glass right across the middle of it.
