Photos of the day: At the Carwash

Yeah, that's right, I'm a tacky 70's hit.

But then again, at least I'm clean.

Well, my car is anyway...

Photo of the day: Nude at a Picnic

I'm through with representational painting.

Eavesdropping
Overheard at the grocery store:
Should we get soap or frozen waffles?

(I didn't know they were interchangeable.)
.....
Overheard at the gas station:
Man on cell phone: Yeah I know I said I was sick yesterday, but today I really am sick.

(He was wearing shorts and had the top down on his convertible.)

.....
Overheard at the shelter:
Woman 1: Did you know that Donna got engaged?
Woman 2: To Jack?
Woman 1: No, Tony.
Woman 2: Who's Tony?
Woman 1: Her fiance.

(Um...duh!)

Photo of the day: I've Waited 80 Years for this Martini

I ordered it back when I was a slip of a girl in a flapper dress, dancing the Charleston with Binky Foxerton. I wonder whatever happened to old Binky?

Photo of the day: The Scary Old Tree From Your Childhood

Whether it haunted your mind after reading a scary story or brushed against your bedroom window on windy nights. Maybe you had to walk past it on a snowy day. Or maybe you ran past it because if walked too slowly it might get you. We all have scary trees from our childhood. Here's mine.

Permission
Wonderful advertisement in favor of marriage equality.

Photo of the day: Impression: Smear

This is what a camera sees right before a kitten licks it. Tongue courtesy of Daphne.

The year so far in photo review

One of my goals for this year was to post a photograph a day on this blog. I am happy to say that I have been able to do this. I am unhappy with the quality of many of them. I have a lovely camera, which I have no idea how to use properly because I don' know where the manual is. I've tried the old-fashioned method of "fiddling" with things, but that hasn't seem to helped. I know that I can take a good photograph and I know I have a good eye. It's only the execution that I can't figure out. Lighting, exposure, and the "what does this button do" stuff that are so crucial to actually being successful.

I love photography. One of my childhood dreams was to be a photographer for National Geographic. I've always wanted to be better, and took a few classes in the course of my checkered college career, but it's always boiled down to not ever knowing how to get the most out of my cameras. I suppose I'll have to roll up my sleeves and just try everything and take notes, but it's frustrating. Even more frustrating, though, is posting photos that I'm not particularly proud of just because I need one for today.

Oh sure, over the past 6 months I've posted a few good ones. But most are deservedly forgotten. So now that we stumble into part 2 of 2009 I guess my new goal is to take better photographs. Bear with me while I try to get better.

Photo of the day: Drawers

Everything is labeled so nicely. You know exactly what size to put where. Now if only you knew what "they" were.

Photo of the day: Organization

There's something vaguely pleasing about this. Don't ask me what or why. I won't answer.

Eavesdropping
Overheard at the shelter...

Man 1: ...I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Man 2: Well you know what they say. Hindsight is 50/50.
Man 1 (laughing): It's 20/20.
Man 2: What's 20/20?
Man 1: Hindsight. You know, like vision. 20/20 vision.
Man 2: That's stupid. 20 and 20 is only 40. It's 50/50. If you have 50/50 eyesight then your eyes are 100% perfect.

Photo of the day: Curves

I know what you're thinking, but this rather sensual-looking sculpture is actually of four birds. Even if I had photographed the sculpture as a whole it would still look like a nude. Somebody has a dirty mind.

Save Our State Parks
If you live in California, I urge you to take action to help keep our state parks open. The Governator has a brilliant money-saving plan that includes closing nearly all of our state parks. The SF Chronicle story gives more info than I can fit here. But the proposed closings include all but 5 Bay Area parks. Big Sur would close. As would Mt. Tam and Angel Island. And every state beach. Every one.

The California State Parks Foundation has an online petition you can sign, as well as additional information about how you can get involved in the fight to keep our local treasures alive. For those of you on Facebook, please search for California State Parks and join their fan club for news updates and more details.

Photo of the day: Still Life With Thing

Random, but quirky enough to be interesting. At least to me.

Photo of the day: Lily

Yesterday I talked to someone who has a dog named Lily. Today I hung out with a beautiful mama cat and her two rambunctiuous kittens, Lily (the other being James....obviously named by a Harry Potter fan). I also heard a woman call her daughter, Lily. And so this photo. Because, apparently, I am surrounded by lillies.

Photo of the day: Kitten in the Mirror

While playing around with reflected shots today I caught Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) in the mirror.

Catching up....
British couple celebrates their 81st anniversary. Who says love never lasts?

.....
SF Gate's Pet Haiku Contest winners are in. There are some gems.

.....
More from the BBC. Animals fascinate me. This video of rooks figuring out what tool will earn them the food is fascinating, as is the story that follows.

.....
Goodbye cowboys, hello Simmie Knox. The Obamas changing the art in the White House.

......
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes, was a firm believer in spiritualism. It may seem surprising for a man of such education. I thought this article was interesting, though too short.

Photo of the day: Litter Mates

Not the best photo I've ever posted, but possibly the cutest. These are two of a litter of five, about two-three weeks old and tiny. Their little legs are wobbly, their little eyes are unfocused, and their little meows are irresistible. I think I'm in love.

Photo of the day: Who Says Vinyl is Dead?

It's certainly not at KZSU where vinyl lines both our walls and our playlists. Long live the turntable!

Photo of the day: The 4:05 to Albuquerque

OK, it's not. It's the 5:25 train that brings Husband home after a long day of dealing with crap.

Photo of the day: The Last of Not Grandma's Roses

There are probably 5 more rose bushes that I haven't photographed. But I am bored with them. As I suspect you are. (That is, if anybody is actually looking at my blog.) But I had to do the white ones because, hello, House of York and all that. (Wars of the Roses, baby.)

Eavesdropping
Overheard at the shelter
Woman 1: I 'm still not sure if I want a cat or a dog.
Woman 2: I still think you want shoes.

.....
Overheard at the grocery store
Mother: What kind of cereal do you want?
Child: Pop Tarts
Mother: You can't have Pop Tarts. How about Cheerios?
Child: How about Pop Tarts?

Photo of the day: Not More Grandma's Roses

These beautiful red roses grow between our house and the one next door. Thanks to their automated watering schedule, they get lots of water, as opposed to our other bushes that only get watered when we remember. I love the deep red of these flowers, as do the bees who seem to be particularly fond of this one.

Photo of the day: Grandma's Roses

OK, not grandma. Grandma's sister. My great Aunt Clemence used to live in the house where Husband and I live. I think she was responsible for all of the gorgeous rose bushes we have growing in our yard. This is, obviously, the pink one. It's well loved by Pigpen, one of the neighborhood cats who loves to snooze in its shade on sunny days.

No, it's not all right!!!
There are two rooms full of cats at the shelter. One with individual kennels. One with kennels and with three small, closet-sized rooms with glass doors. We call them "condos." These condos usually have 4 or 5 cats in them. The doors are kept closed, obviously, and there are signs plastered over them saying "do not open." Along with all the other signs that ask the customers to please not touch the cats.

So I walk into the room and some galacticly stupid woman and her spawn of Satan have not only opened the door to the condo, but child spawn is sitting in the condo petting one of the cats. The other 4 cats are now roaming free around the room. I walk in and look at her with a combination of "you've got to be fucking kidding me" and "there are cats everywhere." And stupid woman looks at me and says "this is all right, isn't it?"

Not it's not fucking all right. There are cats running free around the room. (Thank goodness the door to the room was shut otherwise there'd be cats running all over the shelter.) So I tell her as politely as I can that, no, it's not all right. And to please not touch the cats. So she gives me a dumb, glazed smile and apologizes vaguely....and leaves the room. And now I've got to corral a group of loose cats and get them back where they belong.

To make it worse, when I came into the room I was carrying a cat I had just finished TLCing. Said kitty freaked out at all the other cats wandering around and jumped down. Now I have two groups of cats cross-contaminating and two can't-tell-them-apart pure black cats, one going into one condo and the other to a different condo.

Seriously, how stupid could this woman be? No it's not fucking all right!!! How tiny and useless does your brain have to be to think there's anything OK about letting cats loose? I mean even if we didn't have bloody signs bloody everywhere, does it make any sense that we'd be all "sure, whatever" about giving our animals free roam of the entire building?

Photo of the day: What do You See?
Personally I see a bull and the face of the devil. Who knew heating up milk for warm fuzzies could be so photogenic?

Photo of the day: Choose Your Spot

Short or long? Your call. Whatever size you prefer, we've got a spot for you.

Kittens
The kitten nursery opened today. I had forgotten how tiny they are. The average weight is about 10 ounces. Only two litters at the moment, 5 kittens and 3 kittens. It was great to be back in there, sticking syringes of stinky food into the tiny mouths of reluctant, squirming little critters. Ah yes, the scent of kitten food. It had escaped my mind until that first whiff and then the sense memory came back. Of course the fact that it got onto my shirt and into my hair helped cement the "oh yes, I remember this smell" recollection.

I know these guys aren't going to be around long. As soon as they're old enough to be adopted, they're going to be snapped up. I'm thrilled. And, of course, a bit sad that all the amazing adult cats in need of a home may be overshadowed by the overwhelming cuteness of the kittens.

I just wish I could give them all homes. The cats, not the kittens.

Photo of the day: California in the Sunshine

Such a stereotypical image for the Golden State. Palm trees set against a sky of Renaissance blue. But hey, why fight the classics? I can't get the shot of a classic convertible driving down the Pacific Coast Highway. I have, however, done the Golden Gate Bridge, although from a slightly more unusual angle than usual. But sometimes you just need to go with the myth and give the impression that we have palm trees on every street, blocking our multi-million dollar mansions from view.

CD Pick of the Week: Warsaw Village Band, Infinity
Polish folk music played by mind-bendingly good musicians and infused with modern sensibilities and world influences. Wicked good throughout. Excellent strings and percussion plus vocals by what sounds like a group of sirens from hell (in a good way). Often dark and mysterious, always surprising and compelling. One of the best world discs of the year so far.

Photo of the day: Le Chat, Part Deux

OK, it's cheating to use a photo of the same cat two days in a row. But she's so beautiful I had to. Besides, it was too frickin' hot today to take any new photos and I'm fresh out of ideas. Sorry if I'm in danger of becoming a crazy cat lady. I warn you, though, it's gonna get worse. The kitten nursery opens on Monday and I'm on duty two shifts a week. If you're not careful, I'll have you owning a cat or a kitten by the end of the summer.

Photo of the day: Scene Stealer

Isn't she gorgeous? I worked with her today at the shelter and was just amazed at how beautiful she is. Those eyes. That silky coat. That flirtatious manner. She's a total heart stealer (and a stealer of pipe cleaners as well) and as playful and loving as they come. Someone snap her up, she's a superstar.

Photo of the day: Cat on a Warm Tile Roof

I captured this little guy back in November, on election day, actually. Our polling place is a senior resident center and this appears to be one of the security guards. He was sitting up on the roof of a garden area, staring down anyone who wandered by. Maybe an undercover poll worker? Wanting to make sure everyone who came in had their voter's guide already filled out? He obviously had me pegged as being all set because he didn't ask for my ID, instead he focused his attention on a little brown bird who appeared to have come to the wrong voting place.

Photo of the day: Cobwebs and Old Wood

I tried to capture (on camera, not by hand) the spider that made this but he (or she) was shy and ran to the other side of this fence. How about that? I'm like a spider stalker.

Eavesdropping
Overheard at the shelter
Man to obviously dim woman: That black cat looks like a jaguar.
Obviously dim woman: Oh I think he's cute. You really think he looks like a car?

...
Overheard at the shelter 2
Woman on cell phone: He was just too Zen. And he likes Monopoly.

Not sure what those two things have in common. Can you be a capitalist Zen?

Photo of the day: When in Doubt, Play the Xylophone

Because, really, nothing cannot be overcome by brightly colored musical instruments meant for small children or stressed adults.

Photo of the day: Burning the Midnight Fire

The wind makes me want a fire. The insomnia makes me want sleep. I have one, but not the other. But all is not lost. I have hot cocoa, a good movie, a good book, and the knowledge that in a few hours sleep would be but a memory anyway as Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You If You Don't Agree tm) starts her middle of the night rambles.

Photo of the day: Choose Your Poison

Or choose your own adventure. Your call.

I Am (Kinda) A Mom
Today is Mother's Day. And I send love to all my friends who are moms.

I am not the mother of a child. But I am one of those crazy pet people who considers her cat as her child. (OK, not really.) But for the next few months, I am going to be, kinda, a mom.

This marks the second year the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA will run their kitten nursery and I am once again signing up. Since I am blessedly unemployed, I'll be doing two afternoons a week at the nursery, plus two afternoons a week with my regular cat duty.

Mother's Day marks the unofficial start of kitten season. From now until early to mid-september, we will be overrun with adorable, but tiny and helpless abandoned kittens. They need constant feeding, care, medical attention and love. Hell, they even need to be taught how to poop. I am happy to help out and, in fact, feel incredibly lucky to be able to do so. But it's hard seeing so many tiny little furballs in need of care and homes. It's also hard to know that many people will scoop up these kittens, while ignoring the adult, or even "vintage" cats, equally in need of love and a lap.

I know from my work last year at the kitten nursery that I'm looking at a few months of hard work, getting kitten food all over me, getting peed on, and hauling around bags of trash and laundry. And I can't wait. But I urge you if you have any extra cash sitting around to consider making a donation to the animal shelter of your choice as every one will be facing the same work as we will be. You might also consider volunteering your time or even signing up to foster a litter of kittens. You'll love the work, feel good about what you're doing, and you'll feel (kinda) like a mom.

Photo of the day: Things Are Looking Up

I like looking up around buildings to see what's up there. Fire escapes. Gargoyles. Interesting windows. In this case, just an odd angle that caught my eye. The great thing about looking up, though, is that if you do it long enough people will join you just to figure out what you're looking at. Try it.

Goodness
Husband and I had dinner tonight with friends. And it reminded me how there are few things in life as nice as dinner with friends. Since my family and I get along like a bunch of kittens in a pillowcase, my friends are the ones I consider family. Tonight involved delicious food, fun conversation, two adorable cats, one adorable dog, and a great deal of laughter. It did not involve taxes, bills, stress, deadlines, politics, or anything negative. Instead there was yummy pork, a crisp salad full of fresh veggies, killer brownies, and beer. Plus some music and a lot of plain old can't-get-enough-of-it conversation.

Thanks to Elke, our charming and gracious hostess. And to Finny and Bubba for the laughs. (And to Jada, Willow, and Tara for the licks and the cuddling.)

Tomorrow I'll be cooking dinner for the Mom. It should be suitably stressful.

Photo of the day: Purple-y Red-y Flower-y Thingys

I have no clue what this is. And, in fact, I think it's kinda creepy. (I have already confessed my creepy-outness of little flowers.) But I like the photo anyway.

Photo of the day: Meter Reading

The meters in San Mateo make fine photographic subjects. Mind you, the cops in San Mateo sure give you dirty looks when you photograph them. I swear if there's a rash of these things being broken into, you'll see my face on a wanted poster.

Something Sounds Different
Because Husband is having Week From Hell at work, I'm going to be covering his show tomorrow morning on KZSU. 6-9 am. That's the bad part. Yes, I am usually awake at 4:30, but it usually involves jammies, feeding the cat, and hoping to fall back to sleep for at least another hour. I'm not usually getting dressed, pretending to be coherent, and heading out to be on the radio. But I digress...

Tomorrow's show I'm calling The Rent Party and it's a departure from my regular show, At the Cafe Bohemian. When I do my show I play almost exclusively world music. I might throw in a jazz track here or there, but it's 99.9% pure world. Pretty much united by my inability to pronounce any of the artists or tracks correctly.

But when I take Husband's slot I get to branch out into artists whose names are in English. And I gotta tell you, it's kinda cool. Oh, not the English part, though that doesn't hurt. No, I like the not playing what I'm used to. Even though KZSU doesn't tie you to one style of music and you can play whatever the fuck you want, when you have a show in a particular genre you tend to stay close to home. But every so often you get to play in the mudpies. The Blues Marathon, for example, gives me a chance to kick some serious Delta ass. And tomorrow it's anybody's guess what I'll get up to. I've done The Rent Party before and it frequently involves jazz and blues, some classic Motown, some world, and pretty much anything that fits my mood. It's only very slightly mostly insane. I always make my shows up as a I go along with no previous planning and, in this case, I play artists with whom I might not be very familiar. So there's always a bit of "how long will it take before I seriously screw up" going on. But that's the fun part. Yes, I'm just dull enough that my idea of risk taking isn't bungee jumping, it's following gypsy jazz with Japanese pop.

Photo of the day: I'm Starving Here

If you have pets, you know this look. It tells your shameful secret to the world. This poor, starving animal hasn't been fed in days.

Cipher (TWMACSYIYDA tm) has a quite impressive internal clock. She knows when dinnertime is and, starting about an hour beforehand, she pours it on. The quiet meowing. The big green eyes. The pathetic look that she must practice in the mirror when we aren't looking.

I mean look at her. Don't you just feel her sending you brainwaves? Feed me. I'm weak. I need tuna. I must have tuna.

In the face of, well, this face, I always cave. Just after I took this photo I gave her dinner. Yes, it was tuna.

Eavesdropping

Overheard at the shelter
Woman to man: What kind of cat is that?
Man: Cats don't have kinds, they're just cats.
Woman: What about Persians and Siamese?
Man: They're just nationalities, not kinds.

.....
Overheard at the grocery store
Woman to man: How about chicken?
Man: I think they're vegetarians.
Woman: OK, how about chicken with rice?

.....
Overheard at the shelter 2
One man to another (looking at cats): I still think we should get mom a big-screen TV.

Photo of the day: The Fall of the Roman Bookshelf

Once a proud ornament upon our shelves. Now two proud ornaments upon our shelves. The capital fell off the column but looks just fine as a ruin amid the dust of books past.

Letting Go
My favorite cat (next to mine, of course) has been adopted. Little Ismael was the most endearing little guy. A black and white charmer who completely stole my heart. I spent almost 30 minutes with him last week and didn't want to put him back. He was just such a little love.

Well, I checked the adoption page and he's found his forever home. I am so happy. And so sad.

The one hard part about being a shelter volunteer is letting go. I realize the whole point of my being there is to care for these animals until they find a family. And I am, in fact, thrilled every time one of my charges get adopted. But it's so hard to see them go on a selfish, personal level.

One of the first things I do when I arrive for my shift is to check the board to see who has been adopted since my last visit. I usually do a happy dance. I love knowing that the little gray has found a home. Or that bonded pair that had been there for months now have non-stop lap access. But every so often there's one animal that is more special to me whose adoption makes me a little sad. Ismael (Izzy, as I called him) was the cat I would have adopted if Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) was willing to share. I would have been so happy to have given him a home. And I am happy to know some incredibly lucky person now has that little guy curled up on their bed. But I cannot help but feel sad that I won't get to snuggle with him again.

I know when I go in tomorrow there will be new cats. And I know that I'll have a new favorite kitty. But I've learned that there are some cats that are more memorable, or that I love more than others. And little Izzy was one of those cats.

I'm going to miss him. And I'm so jealous of whoever it scratching his tummy now.

Photo of the day: The Fan

This cheapo fan has been around the world with me. I bought it for about a dollar at a Cost Plus over 10 years ago. It went to Africa with me where it saw some use. It then came with me to Paris for a huge heat wave one September. I recall wandering through the galleries at the Louvre with this fan to stir the air of ages. It's been to New Orleans where we strolled down Bourbon Street one hot night while I laughed at the "Wash a Woman of Your Choice" sign and sipped something pink and lethal. It's been to St. Louis, Boston, DC, Las Vegas and Death Valley. And it lives, out of cat's reach, on my bookshelf. Reminding me of visits past.

Photo of the day: Totem

Unfortunately this beautiful totem on the Stanford campus is surrounded by fences and scaffolding while it undergoes some repairs. Perhaps getting ready for next weekend when the Stanford PowWow takes place. If you've never been to a PowWow, you must go. It's fabulous. Dance contests. Drum circles. Arts and crafts. And, yum, frybread. Frybread tacos! It's a wonderful multi-tribal gathering at the eucalpytus grove at Galvaz and El Camino. Check it out.

Curse of the Cat Carrier
We had to take Cipher (the World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) to the vet this week. Nothing serious and she's fine now, but the event involved the scariest thing in Cipher's world the cat carrier.


She knows that if this menacing object makes an appearance, she's going in a car to a place where some man will stick a thermometer up her butt.

Really, you can't blame her for hating it.

We're trying to leave it out so she'll get used to it. And a few minutes ago I had occasion to move it. Cipher was in the room, all calm and cute. She saw me touch the scary thing....and ran and hid under the bed.

The poor thing is terrified of this monstrosity. I even went a bought one much bigger than we need so that she has plenty of room in there. But just the sight of us near it sends her running for cover.

When a vet visit is necessary we take the carrier into the music office, then bring her in and close the door so she can't run and hide. We do this after I made the mistake of trying to put her into the carrier while in the living room and she ran like her tail was on fire into the bedroom, under the bed, and refused to come out for nearly an hour. I had to cancel the appointment. Now we make sure we do the process in a room where there's no place to hide. And I, with my Catholic upbringing and love of animals, feel like Cruella Deville for putting her through all this trauma.

Photo of the day: An English Cathedral

Discovered in a book on the subject. Just playing around with photographing pictures in books. Playing with lighting and generally being lazy. But I liked this one for some reason.

The Adventure of the Chicken Rescue
I had totally forgotten about this particular bit of lunacy...

Back in the mists of time my friends the Steves and I were wandering around Chinatown where we saw this ancient guy with a live chicken. The bird was obviously going to be dinner and Steve decided to rescue it. I think we paid $10 buck for the poor thing.

OK, now what?

Step 1: Go to a friend's house and borrow the cage that belonged to their own version of the dead parrot sketch.
Step 2: Figure out someplace where people might have chickens.
Step 3: Be really stupid and forget about someplace close, like Santa Cruz or Woodside. Decide to drive up to frickin' Placerville. Because, of course, that's the closest place to SF where you might find chickens.
Step 4: Put the by now entirely confused chicken in the cage, put the cage in the back of the car, and hit the road.
Step 5: Be grateful the motion of the car puts the chicken into a coma by about Richmond so she shuts up.
Step 6: Drive to Placerville.
Step 7: Troll slowly around looking for someplace with chickens. When you find one, park down the road from it.
Step 8: Creep up to the house like you're going to make off with their car. Try to keep the chicken quiet. Realize you're city kids who actually don't like live chickens that much.
Step 9: Throw the poor bird over the fence and run like hell.
Step 10: Celebrate with milkshakes and drive all the way back to SF.

Photo of the day: Capital

I'm going to make a comment that has nothing to do with this photo.

I am madly in love with my husband.

I shall now stop being mushy and return you to your regularly scheduled web-surfing.

Meet Bob and Mary. And Mary and Bob
I don't know about you, but I always refer to couples by the order in which I met them. For example, I was friends with Mary for ages before she met and married Bob. And they will always be "Mary and Bob" when I talk about them. "Let's have dinner with Mary and Bob." I'll say, in spite of the fact that Mary and Bob don't live in the US and we can't really have dinner with them that often.

Then there's John and Jane. John and I became friends at work and, once he married Jane, they became "John and Jane." And they will always be "John and Jane" in that order.

And this holds true for all the couples we know. Whoever I met first always comes first in the couple canon.

There has only been one exception to this rule, and for this I can't use aliases. I was friends with Tom in college and then he started going out with Jerry. Actually it was Gerry, but still....Tom and Gerry? I don't think so. Since I refused to call them after cartoon characters, they became Gerry and Tom (and, later G&T after their favorite pre-dinner drink). But that was the only time I ever broke the rule.

Is this just me or do you do this too? I think it makes perfect sense, but then again....I'm odd.

Photo of the day: More from the Hallowed Halls

Meanwhile, back at Stanford. Everything looked peaceful. Little did they know that overly-hyped flu lurked around every column.

The Woe of Shopping
As confessed before, I hate to shop. But my lack of nether garments rendered such an expedition necessary and thus I sallied forth, bravely. Well, not so bravely. With gritted teeth, is more like it.

I'm sure the majority of American women would have enjoyed themselves. Strolled around, did some browsing, perhaps tried on a few things just for fun. Made a few impulse buys. Spent time wandering through the summertime dresses with their bright flowers and small straps.

Me? I stalked in, clubbed a few pairs of jeans over the head and brought down the kill.

Well, that's what I wanted to do. But, unfortunately, I had to engage in my least-favorite activity of shopping trying things on. Ugh. I hate that repeated having to take your shoes off and guessing of sizes. Why in the name of holy dancing Jesus can't women's sizes be consistent? Men have it so easy. The walk into the men's department, go to the slacks, look for the 34 x 36 rack and pick them up. Shirts? Same deal, he's a 15/34. Doesn't even have to try the damned things on.

So why can't women be the same? Is it some freakish feminine psycho thing where women don't want to acknowledge in actual inches the size of their waist? I tried on jeans by three different makers and discovered I'm a size 8. And a size 10. And, fuck me, a size 12! What the hell is that? According to one maker I'm two sizes smaller than with another manufacturer? That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Then there's the whole S, M, L deal with shirts. Again, I'm all three sizes. It is impossible for a woman to walk into a store and buy something, anything, without trying it on because she'll have no clue if she's a fucking petite extra small or should be in the Busty Betty Department.

Photo of the day: Bike Rack

The only time I don't fear the bicycles at Stanford is when they're in the bike rack. Otherwise they have a tendency to pop out from between parked cars and terrify drivers. It's like playing Frogger.

Photos of the day: Stanford

With apologies to the Lurker, Mama D, and all my other Cal-loving readers I present to you shots of the Stanford campus. I'll try to keep them to a minimum to protect your delicate sensibilities.

But it is a very photogenic campus. You'll be seeing more in the coming days. You are warned in case you'd like to avert your eyes.

Branded
What causes us to choose one brand over another? Or is it just me? When I go grocery shopping I have brands that I always get. We buy Coke, rather than Pepsi and Tide rather than Gain. I pick up the same brand of toothpaste whenever we run out. But I don't necessarily get the same kind of shampoo or soap. How come? I will try new products to wash my hair, but not my clothes. I tend to buy the same brand of dish soap, but not necessarily the same scent. I'll switch around on paper towels but stay loyal to tissue (I'm a Kleenex girl).

I know some people have huge brand loyalties to products. Cars, especially. I'm loyal to Honda (though I'd love to be able to afford something really ass-kicking) but will always prefer a Honda to, say, a Ford. And yet I know people who have happily owned four or five different makes of cars.

It's weird how that happens. Even if a similar and, I'm sure, just-as-good product is cheaper I'll still go for the preferred brand in most cases. And I'm not sure why. Especially now, when I'm trying to watch our budget. I'm sure the generic store-brand laundry detergent is fine, yet I'll shell out the extra buck for the name brand I've always used. There might even be something I'd like better, yet I don't experiment. And I rarely switch. I might pick up a different brand if they're out of what I usually buy, but the next time I go back to the old favorite.

So am I dull or loyal? Am I a typical consumer or am I weird. And I find it interesting that advertising has pretty much no effect on me. I don't see an ad on TV and think "I need to try that soup."

The one type of ad I do pay attention to, for the humor value, is bathroom cleaners. Why is it that the people who seem most excited by having a sparkling bathroom start off with bathrooms that look like the local Shell Station? Seriously. They always have the most disgusting bathtubs.

Photo of the day: Drawers

My mother has a beautiful antique sewing machine. Unfortunately it's kept in the closed off part of the house so no one ever sees it. But while wandering sleepless through the night I spent there I took some photos. This is of the cabinet. Two small drawers on either side on the machine itself. It's a gorgeous ensemble that deserves to be seen by more people.

When is a Sale Not a Sale
Yesterday Husband bought some shirts on sale from a major department store, which shall remain nameless. (Although it rhymes with "Macy's.") When we got home we discovered we'd gotten the wrong neck size. So I took them back today to exchange them for the correct size.

I got the right size and went to the counter to exchange them. And once the old ones were rung (wrung?) in and the new ones were rung up I was told that I owed them $125. Um....excuse me?

The clerk had given me credit on the old shirts and then entered the new ones as a new transaction. But they weren't on sale today so she wanted me to pay full price on them. I explained to her that this is not how a return works. A return is when you buy something and if you bring it back and get the same item, even if no longer on sale, you get the same price. And she informed me that I was wrong.

We had a polite discussion that got me nowhere except confirmed her impression that I was a crazy woman who was somehow trying to rob the store that rhymes with "Macy's". This should-have-been simple transaction now required the intervention of a supervisor who came over and couldn't seem to get through to the clerk either. But eventually took her through the whole process step-by-step, by the end of which the clerk still didn't seem to understand what was going on. By this time I'd spent close to 20 minutes trying to do an even exchange. Babies were born and rocks were formed while I waited. But I did walk out with the right shirts and not having to pay them the additional $125.

In other shopping news if you're in the market for a dining chair I suggest you check the prices on the same chair at Amazon and Dining Rooms Direct. It pays to shop around.

Photo of the day: Meanwhile, Back in the Victorian Brothel

There's just something about the light that makes me think of midnight in Lulu's House of Pleasure.

Photo of the day: Iris

This one is self-explanatory.