Blogroll surfing

I haven't been able to settle down to anything today. I've been a scatter-brain, starting tasks and dropping them, reading half a short story and abandoning it, burning my soup, sorting a few photos and giving up, idly checking random blogs. At least that was productive; I found some interesting posts on my blogrolls. Check these out:

• Adrian Thysse's new gallery: On the Head of a Pin.

My favourite, I think, is this one.

• Canada goose nesting site with a view. Rock, Paper, Lizard. 

• Robin Andrea looks at very pink rainbows. Sunset Rainbow.

• Redpoll, Osprey, and Mink, by PSYL in Peterborough.

• Blackmailing half-grown chicks. 10,000 Birds. I think I've seen something like this behaviour in crows.

• "... a sky full of poo ..." Christopher Taylor on Dung Beetles.

• And Julie Zickefoose feeds a bat. With video.

And here's one of my very tiny orange-limbed hermits:

"Punkin" in an algae-covered periwinkle shell, on a base of broken barnacles.

A tasty stew

I promised you stone soup. Blog-style stone soup.

Years back, my parents travelled the US and Canada in an UltraVan. Periodically, they met with other UltraVan owners at rallying points. (The rallies are still ongoing.) One of the traditions was that on the final evening, each Van owner contributed his/her/their canned goods to the UltraVan Stew. Soup, meat, veg, chili, beans, spices: it all went in one pot. Stone Soup, in other words. Mom said it was always good. (I might not be so positive, but at least it was nutritious.)

So, for today, I'll contribute my stone and a veg,

Rose weevil, last summer.

... and then stir in these goodies from the web:

First: the carnivals, posted, and to come.

The Other 95%: Circus of the Spineless #35: Regeneration, Renewal, Reinvigoration It's back! At long last, we have a host, Kevin Zelnio! And the first installment of the reborn CotS is a winner. Thanks, Kevin.

Festival of the Trees is up at Treeblog. A poetic post, with a bark rubbing, to boot. As well as all the great links.

I and the Bird will be up in a couple of days at Vickie Henderson Art. (You still have a few hours to get a post in to her; today's the final day for submissions.)

I have posts in those three, but not in the next ones. Maybe another time.

Ecstathy: Carnival Of the Elitist Bastards IX: Keepin' yer wits about ye Pirate edition. This one's just plain fun. As well as being dead serious.

Carnival of the Blue #21 « The Oyster’s Garter In verse. Or doggerel. (Sorry, Miriam.) Good ocean-related links. I liked the cuttlefish story and poem.

Great Backyard Bird Count — Great Backyard Bird Count And this is coming up in less than two weeks; February 13 -16. Are you in? I am.

Then there's Blogroll Amnesty Day; the idea is to link to 5 smaller blogs. I don't know about size, so here are 5 that I've found recently, and added to my GoogleReader:

Jehuite This one is in Spanish. The wild vegetation of Mexico. Beautiful photography, some "exotic" plants, some old familiar ones.

The ScienceBlogs Book Club : Bonk, by Mary Roach: Friday Weird Science has found its Patron Saint A two-fer. The Book Club blog, and the link to this book. I have read Stiff, by Mary Roach, and loved it, so this is on my list of must-buys. A warning, though; it is not to the taste of many people. If dead bodies make you squeamish, give it a pass.

The Book of Barely Imagined Beings. Science, with great photos, and interesting posts. Like "Earthworms save planet".

MMmmm…That’s Good Grub* « Drawing The Motmot An artists climbs to the top of the Amazon rainforest to paint, in this post.

Tyto Tony. "Life in a tropical Queensland wetlands". Beautiful bird photography.

And 6: (I can't count.) Wild Light. Photography using only natural light. Astoundingly gorgeous!

And even more goodies for the soup:

A natural history of Runswick Bay: Lugworms. For Wren.

Sunrise, sunset, daylight in a graph. I posted this a year ago, and it keeps turning up in my Sitemeter. I am surprised every time.

And because it was Groundhog's Day yesterday, and I missed it, here's Hugh's story: Momma Vole.

And a last bit of greenery (and reddery):

The weevil again, delicately tiptoeing through a thornfield.

.

Finally! A round Tuit!

Is there an award for procrastinators? * I've earned it.

I still haven't passed on the awards I received two weeks ago. They're sitting here on my desk, all 15 pretty badges, on top of my "Urgent" pile, while I dither and dawdle. Sorry about that.

A while ago, when Blogger re-structured my page without warning me, I removed most of my widgets, trying to identify the problem. I put some back, but left the blogrolls for later, because I wanted to change the format, and add new favourites. (More height on that "Urgent" pile.) I sorted that out today, and restored the Nature blog list to its place.

This may help with the awards list.

Ok; here goes. The Superior Scribbler's Award that Huckleberry favoured me with, I pass on to -- Oh, choosing is so difficult! --

1. Jessica, at Moss Plants and More; I've been enjoying her recent series on the life cycle of mosses.
2. Aydin, at Snail's Tales; recent post - When Fruit Flies Go Bad they become winos...
3. Hugh, at Rock Paper Lizard and The Interpreter. (I thought someone had tagged him already, but I just checked the blog and didn't see it.)
4. Robin Andrea and Roger, at The New Dharma Bums. They haven't been posting too much lately, but those few posts are always insightful, worth waiting for.
5. Bev, at Journey to the Center. A recent post reads, in part,

   The path I once followed ends at a cliff’s edge. My world is now filled with metaphors of birth, life, love, loss, and death. A derelict house becomes a reminder of how fleeting are our lives and our creations. Smashed out windows, gaping doors, or a fallen roof are signs of irreparable destruction and termination. Of course, most photographers are aware of the existence and use of metaphor in objects and landscapes. It is our stock in trade. But there is a difference between making use of, and living within, a world filled with metaphors.

And here are the rules, again:

1. Pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
2. Link to the author & the name of the blog from whom you have received The Award.
   
3. Display The Award on your blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
   
4. Visit This Post and add your name to the Mr. Linky List.
   
5. Post these rules on your blog.
   

Next, the Butterfly Award, sent by Dawn.

The rules, along with Dawn's wonderful escape clause, again:

These are the rules I am following and the rules that I pass on to you all.
Though I know a few of you personally and know that you probably wont pass it on..that is ok...It is like a chain letter, you wont die, blah blah blah if you don't do it..

1. Put the logo on your blog, you can right-click and copy it from above.
   
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you.
   
3. Nominate other blogs for this award (about 10).
   
4. Add links to those blogs.
5. Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs.
6. Give a reason why you consider their blogs cool.

I'm going to be lazy; I've already revisited every blog on my blogroll twice today. So, if your blog is on that list, and I haven't already tagged you with the Scribbler award, consider yourself the recipient of The Butterfly. Every single one there deserves it, in my books. You're "the coolest blog(s) I ever kn(e)w."

*It seems like there is, except that the badge hasn't been finished yet.
.

Half a post is better than none.

I like memes. I know some bloggers grumble about them; some even refuse to pass them on. But I think that the exercises add a more personal aspect to the blogging world, in that they round out our on-line personas with those little details that we so take for granted in our "real-world" acquaintances.

And often, it turns out that we have more in common than we thought. I love those moments when someone says, "I do that, too!" or, "I was there!" Hey, if we didn't live half-way around the world from each other, we'd be meeting for coffee at Tim Horton's, showing off the latest vacation pics, and grumbling about the traffic and the rain. The business of the day usually comes later; on the blogs, it comes first. Memes help to remedy that situation.

I especially like memes that come with awards. Someone likes what I do! Wow! That puts a smile on my face for the week.

Last week, I received two smile-makers. First, Huckleberry, at Huckleberry Days, gave me the Superior Scribbler Award.

Thanks, Huckleberry! What a nice thing to say!

And then, Dawn sent the Butterfly Award.

Thanks, Dawn. (And yes, the wording sounds strange to me, too.)

Now, here's the problem with memes; they come with rules. They have to be passed on. And that's not easy.

For the Scribbler award, I must:

1. Pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
2. Link to the author & the name of the blog from whom I have received The Award. - Done
   
3. Display The Award on my blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award. - Done
   
4. Visit This Post and add my name to the Mr. Linky List. - Done
   
5. Post these rules on my blog. -Done
   

So I only have #1 left to do.

And for the Butterfly Award; I am pasting the rules, along with Dawn's wonderful escape clause:

These are the rules I am following and the rules that I pass on to you all.
Though I know a few of you personally and know that you probably wont pass it on..that is ok...It is like a chain letter, you wont die, blah blah blah if you don't do it..

1. Put the logo on your blog, you can right-click and copy it from above. - Done
   
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you. - Done
   
3. Nominate other blogs for this award (about 10). (About 10! Eep!)
   
4. Add links to those blogs.
5. Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs.
6. Give a reason why you consider their blogs cool.

That makes 15 new award-winning blogs; 5 Scribblers and 10 "Cool" bloggers. Links, explanation, and message to the bloggers.

The difficulty is not in finding the blogs; it is in pruning the list down to 15 bloggers, none of whom I have passed on any memes to recently.

I think I need more time. Like a couple of days, or three.


Day's end. I'm off to bed. 'night, all!
.

Canadian Content

Hi, there!

So Bloglines appears to be down today. There is no message to that effect; it just hasn't updated any of the blogs on my list. It remembers which ones I read, and who I am, and all that; just gives me no updates.

But I must have my fix!

I called up my list and went on down, clicking on each one to bring up the old posts, then on their "home" page for the new ones. Slower going than usual; I abbreviated the process, going only for the "must-reads".

One of the first was Cicero Sings. Where I found she'd awarded me the . Thanks, Cis! You made my day!

"Cis" remarked that she had passed on the award before to Canadian bloggers, and was continuing along the same lines. Which got me noticing how many of my "must-reads" are Canadian.

And now I must pass on this award; it's burning my fingers. So here are my day-makers, Canadians all:

First; a few I've linked to before, sometimes often:

Hugh, at Rock, Paper, Lizard. He's just across the river from me, and we end up comparing notes frequently. (Hey, Hugh, we saw a couple of pairs of red-winged blackbirds today, too!)

Jean at A Mountain Too High.

Botany Photo of the Day, from UBC Botanical Garden. Beautiful, if not exactly daily.

Prairie Preacher. Such enthusiasm! (Even in despair, he's 110% about it.) I liked his joke today.

And a few I check out often, but haven't linked to before:

Ontario Wanderer. Photos and commentary.

The Interpreter. Fiction; the square peg in a round world. Funny and heart-warming. When you go there, look at the URL. It defines the personality of the interpreter.

Existential Existence. One photo a day. Mostly wordless. But some people just don't need words.

A bit more wordy: Sandwalk. Biochemistry, Tim Horton's, life in general. Right now, he's in Paris, misbehaving.

And one final blog; Primordial Blog. Home of "The Sexiest Animal on the Planet" series. He says the post you must read is the one on Porcupines. Warning; this blog may not be to the taste of some.

I don't understand this ...

... I ran my blog URL through a site that tests its readability. This was the result:

(Check your own blog or site, here.* (Link removed, may have spam content.))

I expected a much lower level; I write as I speak, and my school-age grandkids understand me. (As much as kids understand any adult, that is.)

1. Is something wonky about this test? (Now, that's a good post-grad word, isn't it?)
2. Most writing for the general public is supposed to be around upper elementary - Junior High level. I checked one of the longer stories on my website (Dressing for Don Pedro) and it was rated at Junior High, as expected. A story I wrote for the kids (Chaucer and the Peanut Butter Sandwich) earned the "Elementary School" badge. As it was intended to. What gives with the blog, then?
3. I tested a couple of blogs similar to mine. One got Junior High. But Dharma Bums was rated "Genius". Why? (Not to say that it isn't a great, intelligent blog; it is.)
   
4. Test your own blog. And/or test a couple of your favourites. Let me know what you find.

Strange things happen when you try to test something by a standardized measure. At least, when the blog was deemed "PG", the site told me why: usage of "bad" words. (Like "dead".) This new site doesn't give reasons; it leaves me guessing.

Any ideas?

And now, metablogging...

... or, blogging about blogging.

My question was, "How has blogging changed your life?" And I promised to answer today.

Well, I am, and that is one way that blogging has changed things for me. I came home this afternoon, tired out, to find a rush job waiting for me. Deadline, tomorrow noon. And I will get it done. But first, I have a promise to keep, so here I am.

Writing on my own, no matter what the final goal, I am far too prone to procrastination. (I still am, but I waste only hours, not days and weeks.) But I am aware that dilatoriness is death to a blog; it goes against its whole purpose. After all, it is a "log", which usually denotes a marker of time and space travelled or work done, updated regularly.

So I blog almost every day.

I have been for some time in a state of "writers' block", with a story that I really want to finish, really must finish, frozen half-way through. I seems now that the act of sitting down every day and writing, even if it be captions for a few photos, is reviving my confidence; I'm beginning to feel that I can soon thaw it out and go on.

All to the good. And better still, I am meeting online all these wonderful people, people who share our interests and our values. Laurie and I have been living in a kind of wasteland, a counter-culture composed of two quiet seniors who would rather go birding than rent a video, bring home a new mushroom (to us) than a new outfit, who rip up pieces of lawn to plant "weeds" and feed birds even if it does attract squirrels. And who are seriously concerned about climate change and the insanity of our "leaders". (Can they be really said to lead if, in reality, they are dragging us, protesting, to where we don't want to go?)

And here, online, reachable, almost touchable, are those who "know Joseph"*. We are not alone, after all! There is hope, there is strength! Maybe ... just maybe ... there is still a future for our kids and grandkids.

That is a major change for me. A good one.

One other, minor thing: I have noticed that my writing style has changed in the past year. I write more the way I speak now; more fluidly, less grammatically, less formally. I don't plan ahead. I just write. I think I like that.

So, thank you, all you out there, those whose blogs I read, and those who also read mine and sometimes comment. Thank you: you have given us hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*"know Joseph" From the "Anne" books. A kindred spirit.

And now, back to the grindstone. :)

Computer history (mine, anyhow)

Been doin' a bit of cogitating, today. And I have a question for you all.

But first, a bit of history. About computers and me.

(Note: if computer talk makes your eyes go out of focus, scroll down to the bottom for the question.)

It was back in the early 1980s that my Mom got me involved with the machines. I had vowed never to have anything to do with these "useless" glorified typewriters, but I went to visit my folks for a week, and here was Mom with this brand-new Kay-Pro II (photo from here). And a noisy, rackety OkiData 9-pin dot matrix printer on a specially-built cabinet beside it, with the continuous-form paper fed through a slot in back. Remember that paper? How tricky it was to feed in just right? How it went crooked as soon as you turned your back? And how you had to rip off the sides afterwards?

Anyhow, Mom had the beast up and running (using Perfect Writer) and had joined a computer club; the only woman, and the only member out of her 20s. She was 67. She was busily transferring all her articles and files to the big floppy disks.

And she wanted help. She gave me a list of commands and set me to work.

I guess pride had a part in what came next. I had to learn that program better than Mom had. Of course. And later, when my son was taking programming in school, I had to learn BASIC, too. Next thing I knew, I had my own second-hand computer, running DOS. I eventually got a modem (1200 baud) and went on-line. S-l-oooooooo-w-l-y!

Still mid-80s. I was writing material for work, and had started a book, using "Electric Desk" on a DOS platform. I bought a printer that used real paper, and ink instead of a ribbon. I joined a few BBSs (Bulletin Board Systems) and made a few friends, mostly young men. There were very few women on at that time; I only remember 3 others. In 1994, one of the sysops came over and set up Netscape for me on my new laptop (Windows 3.1, and a sticker reading "Intel Inside")

Anyone around from that time? Remember how you told the thing to dial, and it went do-di-di-do-di-do-di, then rang, then a long, agonized, noisy squawk/buzz while it went through the hand-shaking procedures? I had to put an upside-down egg carton silencer over the speaker, to avoid waking up the people upstairs.

A long time, and many upgrades ago. Years of dial-up, of Windows trouble-shooting, of blue screens. I built a website and had "fun" tweaking html. And then, Y2K: remember that scare? All that happened to me was that my daughter's Word for Windows went wonky and it took me an hour of January 1st to fix it for her.

And now, here I am, blogging, since last spring.

And that brings me to my question.

In what way, if any, has blogging changed your life? Or has it, at all?

I will answer that, for myself, tomorrow.

December 30th. Embers.

We're coming up to the end of 2006. Various memes are working their way around the blogosphere; listing the first lines of the first post of each month, tallying up the numbers, comparing "top tens", making predictions.

Me, I'm a newbie. Not to the web; I've been here forever and a couple of days. To the blogs. I started May 1st of last year, on Delphi. A bit of Mayday madness that has become a meme all by itself: a post a day. Or thereabouts.

So: waving goodbye to 2006 in my own way, I will post bits and pieces of those early blog posts, bits that tell who I am, where I'm going and why.

May 5, 2006: About Names

Why "Weeta"?
I answer to a whole slew of names. The one my parents gave me; Susannah; the one they called me, and my brother still uses (nobody else, please); Susie. To casual acquaintances, often Sue.
...
And to my grandkids, I have been, according to the age and favourite language of the kids, Grandma, Jaba, Jabasoo (his spelling, not mine. And Canada Post actually delivered a letter sent to that name, and with a wrong street address. Pretty good, eh?) and recently, Weeta. Which is a 3-year-old's pronunciation of "abuelita".
I like it.

Same Day: Immortal Words

The internet is clogged with trillions of words. Stashed in hard drives all over the planet, pixels appearing on screens on laps, on desks, on beds even, then disappearing a moment later, vibrating energies coating this old planet like slime on a pond; here today, gone tomorrow.
Even more ephemeral than paper, barely more permanent than the brief hellos we interchange with the neighbour in his driveway. ...
So: words into the void. But so what? I will still say hello to the neighbour; I may as well still keep on pouring words onto the screen.

May 10th, Mexican Mother's Day: Unappreciated Beauties A photo of dandelions. And, I think, the unifying principle in most of this blog; to wit:

We mow them down. Roundup them. Tear them out by the roots. Swear at them.
And what do they do to us? Smile at the sunshine. Brighten dingy days. Give little children something to blow away.
My granddaughter, 3, carefully searched out the dandelions that had already lost their little parachuting seeds, and harvested a fistful to take home to Mommy. Arranging them in a glass for her, I realized that they are beautiful, too, with their silky round stems, a neat little creamy cap on the top and a lacy fringe; how long is it since I had really looked at them?

It's a sad time of year, especially this year, maybe because this year has been difficult and fraught with loss, maybe because the future looks dark. There are health issues as we grow older, financial worries, the closing of doors. The weather no longer is a trusted cycle, "seedtime and harvest"; whether to expect ice and wind or baking drought is not something the almanac can tell us any more. And the world seems populated by insane ideologues hell-bent on suicide and willing to take any number of people with them, some by the dozens, others by the millions.

And the sun comes out only long enough for us to get our coats on.

But the world still manages to produce its beauty. Sunrise, sunset. Unassuming beetles, moss-covered logs, fruit flies with brilliant red eyes. Blue lakes mirroring a bluer sky. Eleventy-one tints of green in the bush. The ceaseless whispering of waves against the pier.

I can't do anything about the weather, my age, the news or the sanity of my neighbours, far and near. I can't do much about the beauty around me, except treasure it, cultivate it. Celebrate it.

Call it my act of defiance against the closing dark.