Bored or Crazy? How to Tell the Difference

The road to Hell is lined with good utensils.
Photo taken by me on my iNonPhone.

My Wednesday post is late. Neither of my public is miffed — just terribly, terribly disappointed.

It’s been a long ten — no, make that eleven, she’s stuck on standby in Toronto — days without my sweetie. But I assure you, my readers, both of you, I’m ferpectly pine. The weather has been — oh, GAWD, PLEASE don’t talk about the weather! And NO, I do NOT WANT ICE in my ginger ale! I NEVER wanna see ICE AGAIN, EVERRRRRRR!

Well. You see how it is. I feel I have numerous qualifications for discerning the difference between bored and crazy, this week having been a refresher course.

1A. Bored: There’s a break in the w**th*r, so you browse the Dollar Store and return home with half a dozen items.

1B. Crazy: No matter what the w**th*r, you return home with half a dozen items from the Dollar Store for ten consecutive days.

2A. Bored: Although alone, you use up all the wilting veggies in a stew big enough for eight people, and eat it over the course of a week.

2B. Crazy: Your stew for eight makes your stomach bloat, but you eat it all week anyway.

3A. Bored: You spend three days revamping the kitchen pegboards with a fresh coat of paint and more hooks.

3B. Crazy: You replace all of the kitchen utensils onto the pegboard in alphabetical order.

that’s alll ofr now. My Gillian deprivation ahs made it almost impossibble to ytpe.

My Partner’s Passion

My spouse has often wondered aloud whether she should be spending so much time on her photography. I think I’ve permanently damaged my eyes from two decades of rolling them. Photography is her bliss, of course she should follow it!

This week, she’ll be following her passion all the way to Japan. Woot! I get to stay home and be lazy. Double woot!

Now in case either of my readers are wondering about their own sweeties, here is my list of 10 reasons to suspect that one’s partner is passionate about photography.

1. You and your spouse together take the dogs for their afternoon walk. You always remember their scoop bags; she always remembers her camera.

2. The first thing she purchased for her trip to Japan was a weatherproof case holding 12 64gb memory cards.

3. On the third day, she arose from her desk chair, having chosen from among 200 possibilities the perfect camera-gear bag.

4. Her most frequently-used verb is “focus”.

5. She laughs in the face of snowstorms: they make excellent background for minimalist nature shots.

6. When typing online, she writes ISO more frequently than LOL.

7. She notices that one of your blog posts has no accompanying photo, so she helpfully emails you a few.

8. Her favourite colour is black-and-white.

9. She doesn’t notice a large gift, wrapped in pink and red tissue paper, sitting on her studio table (see #8 above).

10. Your pets are Bokeh the dog, F-Stop the cat, and Ansel and Adams the lovebirds.

Well all right, #10 exaggerates. But if you recognize five or more of these symptoms, you may well be living with a photographer.

#11. She crosses a busy highway to avoid overhead wires.
Taken by me on my iNonPhone.


Rock Bottom

Okay, boys and girls, let’s start with a quiz! Please decide whether each of the following statements is True or False:

1. “Ophiolite Suite” is the opening theme of “Hamlet: A Rock Musical.”

2. The best way to verify an occurrence of orogeny is to ask, “Did the Earth move?”

3. Laurentia and Gondwana are two competing beach volleyball teams at this year’s Acadian Games.

SCORING

Give yourself 1 point for each statement you guessed was false (maximum 3 points). Give yourself another 4 points if you saw the phaneritic grains of a pattern of truth in each of the otherwise false claims. Give yourself 16 points for each statement you can correct with scientific information. BONUS POINTS: Give yourself 5 points if your answers of “False” were based solely on your knowledge of me and my sense of humour.

HIGHEST POSSIBLE SCORE: 60.

Anybody get over 2? Yesterday I would’ve gotten the 5 bonus points. That’s not saying much.

Gillian and I have decided that this year we’ll be bundling the fur-pods into the car and visiting Newfoundland, aka “the Rock,” which as a count-noun, I’ve been learning, is a bit of a misnomer. Turns out that the island of Newfoundland is not one rock, but three: a strip off what is now North America, a daisy-shaped chunk from what is now Africa, and a big slab of ancient sea bottom between them to referee. “A great big sea hove.” It certainly did!

I wanted to learn more about Newfoundland’s geography and geology before we travel, and now I’m knee-deep in plate tectonics. The whole terrestrial world is a set of paper rafts on a warm pond, their edges sometimes catching one on another and forming the Himalayas, or floating away from each other and forming Hawaii. It’s awesome, inspiring, beautiful, like my view of the sun this morning, looking as though it were shining through a sheet of lake ice.

PS If you didn’t earn the bonus points, it’s time we went out for coffee.

Just before 09:00.
Taken by me with my iNonPhone.

Old Age: the View From the Lobby

Probably I should have lied when the Michaels Craft Store employee asked if I was old enough for a seniors’ discount; I’m sure that’s what started it.

This summer, I had a health scare, exaggerated by Mr Google’s ominous silence on the subject and further complicated by two other health problems that cropped up at the same time, one of which impinged on improving the major one.

Since most of my friends are between 10 and 33 years my senior, I received plenty of help from those I confided in. It’s called a Holter monitor, said one. Orthotics might help, said another. We can give you a lift to the show if you’re afraid to drive, said a third. I’m blessed.

Turns out I’m fine. Still and all, having had three reasons to see my GP in one year, I do feel that I’ve now checked into Hotel Senior Citizen, or at least had a good look around the lobby.

Are you somewhere in the lobby too? Disqualified from the Youth Hostel, but still a long way from the Penthouse Suite? I’ve come up with the following criteria to determine if we might be age mates.

1. You now spend nearly as much money on breakfast at Tim Horton’s as you once used to pay for your monthly phone bill.

2. You’ve wondered, “Where’s my wallet?” or “Where’d I put my glasses?” between two and five times in the past month.

3. You overhear the words “a hot date,” and automatically finish the phrase with “square,” thinking of your favourite source of dietary fibre.

4. The science-oriented kids in your high school got calculators for Christmas.

5. You realize that your best physical feature is now your underarm hair: neither wrinkled, nor grey, nor saggy, nor overweight, it’s just as soft and silky and auburn as it ever was.

If you answered “yes” to at least three of these criteria, we may have an era in common. Meet me at the hotel pool! We’ll both look fine if we remove our glasses.