Category: Theme Thursday

What’s The Point?

It’s a cold rainy day in the Bay Area today and the ubiquitous “they” seem to think we’re going to have snow today, maybe even in the middle of San Francisco.

Snow? Here? Gah! The Bay Area will lose its ever loving mind.

But that’s not the point.

Today I’m angry, pissy, hostile and downright grumpy. My right wrist still hurts so much it wakes me up at night. I took my gimp to the doctor lady and she fitted me into a wrist brace. This @$%#ing thing limits my movement (doing its job, I suppose) and it is frustrating!

When I rip the thing off then my wrist hurts double. And I get angrier.

I don’t like being weak and showing my weakness. I’m the gazelle that the lions will go for first! The limping one!

But really, neither my gimpy wrist nor my offbeat psychosis are the point.

Apparently I’m a brute when I write. I love using felt tip pens but mush them to nothingness within a week or two. All of my Sharpies are not a bit sharp. I just threw out a whole handful.

I am anal about only using pencils that have a very sharp point, but they either break or go nubby within a few sentences. And mechanical pencils! Sheesh. Anything less than a sturdy .5 size and I’m snapping the lead off left and right!

My kingdom for a good sturdy point!

But the point isn’t really the point either.

I’ve been watching the complete Boston Legal series lately. The Good Man got the set for Christmas and we both adore the show.

I love when Alan Shore goes on a riff and a judge cuts him off with a “you’ve made your point, counselor.”

Once, in the middle of a somewhat terse discussion with The Good Man, when he was Alan Shore-ing me, I dropped that phrase on him. In a snotty tone.

Needless to say, that didn’t go well.

I’ve not used it since.

My “you’ve made your point” isn’t really the point, either.

“It’s rude to point” you hear, ad nauseum, when you are a kid. I mean, when you are pre-verbal isn’t pointing sort of the only way you can get your meaning across?

Besides, is there anything cuter than a little baby exploring the world and pointing one chubby hand at something fascinating and looking to you for your response?

I think not. So I think it should be amended to “it’s rude to point, unless you are under two and awfully adorable, then it’s all good.”

Rules: made to be flexed!

But talking about pointing isn’t really the point.

So, what exactly IS the point?

Today’s Theme Thursday is point, and while I’ve got a lot of quick thoughts, none of them are very coherent.

I guess my point is…this is an entire blog post that doesn’t really have a point.

Cheers to my pointlessness! For the vague shall inherit the Earth.






Photo found several places on the net but unable to find attribution. Will include attribution or remove at the request of the owner.


Who Needs a Brush? Not Me!

Back in the kindergarten days I always thought the best activities involved using my hands. Sitting and listening to a book being read was ok, but could get boring (reading it myself was far better). Working on worksheets? Bleaack. But clay, markers, crayons. Now we’re talking!

My absolute favorite activity happened when the gelatinous finger paints came out of the supply closet and we all strapped on smocks and got down to business.

I have learned over the course of my life that I have two of my five senses that are especially heightened. First is my sense of touch. I like to touch stuff. I like to feel surfaces. It’s all endlessly fascinating to me. So that luxurious gooey paint was just the ticket!

And the other sense is sight. Now, I don’t mean vision, my eyesight is terrible. I mean the way I respond to visual cues. I learn better visually. And colors! Oh how I love to see a raucous display of color.

So those pots of paint held endless fun for me. I’d dig a finger in there for a blob of red, then a finger full of blue and….holy crap! Purple!

I think all of this is why later on in life I took up crafting. I’m a total sucker for the water based acrylic paints that I use to make my stuff. I wonder sometimes if I’m a complete weirdo, because one of my absolute favorite parts of any project is the early prep work.

I *love* laying down that first layer of white base paint. I LOVE when I can just slap it on there and mush it into the corners and get paint up and down my arms and YES!

And when there is a sale on my brand of paint at the craft store? Step back people, I’m gonna drop some cash.

When I’m working on a craft project, I find I’ll fall in love with a certain color. I’ve had torrid affairs with Tomte Red, Pumpkin Orange, and Bright Blue. And then there’s Evergreen. This is but a few of my flings, I could go on at length.

I even love the blackest black paint and lament that I can’t get it to be darker. It’s all beautiful to me!

I’ve always admired Van Gogh paintings for the fact the man used a LOT of paint on the canvas. He’d mash it and squish it and make magic. I’m no Van Gogh, but I too love to use a lot of paint. I squeeze it on there with reckless abandon and find a place to use it all.

And then when I’m done, I take bristle brushes, sponge brushes, paint palettes, and fingers to the sink and scrub, scrub, scrub. I’m always a bit sad to see the last of the pigment wash away down the drain.

But when I set all the gear to dry, I smile to myself. All those clean brushes are there waiting for me, singing out, “c’mooon, let’s paint!”





This week’s Theme Thursday is paint.

Photo by Flavio Takemoto and used royalty free from stock.xchng.


Whadderyoo Looking At?

There is so much I have yet to learn about making good photographs. Each step along the way seems like I’ll never sort it out, but I keep at it. I snap photo after photo until I finally understand what makes a particular aspect work. It’s usually one photograph that turns out just right, and I say “hey, maybe I’m starting to get the hang of this.”

My current studies are about macro photography. I’ve owned a macro lens for a quite a while now, but have used it only rarely as I’ve never happy with the results. It’s the photographer’s fault, not the lens. It’s a fine lens, but a macro in the hands of an inexperienced photographer can yield some funky stuff (and not in a good way).

To me, a macro lens is amazing because you can get such detail, but that detail can come at the cost of clarity if you don’t have it focused just right.

Well, the practice continues, and since my pets must suffer their fate as the subject of my ongoing photography education, today I present to you another photo of my beloved male betta named Benito.

Last evening I pointed the macro lens his way when it was his turn to cool his fins in a holding cup. Freshly treated water in his tank was warming up to a comfy level while he waited.

Snapping him in the holding cup helps because he doesn’t have as much room to move and spin and twirl and turn his body into a perfect u-shaped form, thus creating ever more blurry photos of half a fin or an out of focus gill.

He’s very responsive when I speak to him and comes right up and looks at me. Sure, he wants me to feed him, but I like to think it’s because he knows I’m his human and here to take care of him.

I like looking into his little eyes, and wanted very much to capture a photo where you could see the clear domes over his little fishy eyeballs.

I think I succeeded. He was very patient while I fiddled with the focus and turned the knobs on my camera and cursed and snapped away.

For this photo, I used a very shallow depth of field and I like how his head is very clear and the rest of his body blurs to soft focus.

Benito is not really a fan of having a camera aimed at him, so I only took about eight photos, but I’m pretty pleased with the results.

I’m learning!



click image for larger size




This week’s Theme Thursday assignment is turn.

Photo by Karen Fayeth and subject to the Creative Commons license, as posted in the right hand column.

Gravity is a Cruel, Cruel Mistress

As I was growing up, my mom, bless her soul, had some pretty strong aspirations for her daughters. Mainly, she wanted both my sister and me to be strong, healthy and graceful girls.

This is an admirable wish.

So to that end, both my sissy and I attended dance classes regularly, learning ballet, tap and jazz (yes, I learned how to make perfect jazz hands).

Blessed from an early age with sturdy thighs and broad German hips, I was what might be called “stocky.” This whole dancing thing was a bit tougher for me than it was for the lithe little girls who also attended the dance classes.

That said, I danced and it was not so bad. I was a damn fine tap dancer in my day, actually. I could shuffle-off-to-buffalo like nobody’s business! (Google it, that’s actually a tap dancing term)

At some point, I don’t know how it came about, but it was agreed that I would start taking gymnastics classes at the local YMCA.

Well, this was quite a step up in the game. Gymnastics! Whoa!

Ok, let’s go back to the sturdy thighs and broad German hips thing…my center of gravity is rather low. This is a good thing for lifting things and staying on the planet.

However, that “staying on the planet” aspect is quite the hindrance to the goal of gymnastics activities which often involve leaving the ground.

In hindsight, I did ok on balance beam. I was actually not that bad on the uneven bars.

But the floor routines were another story entirely.

Cartwheels? Yes!

Backbends. Sure. I’m all over them.

Flips? Er. Not so much.

I’d come thundering down the mat, do the hop, attempt to flip forward and wind up lying on the mat in a tangled mess of limbs and lycra spandex.

Next I’d try to do that big hop and tuck to make a back flip work, and would end up in a similar state.

A back flip on the balance beam? Oh please, I never even tried.

It was kind of hard on the ol’ self esteem back then that all these other girls could flip through the air with the greatest of ease while I stayed firmly grounded.

Over the years I’ve become a bit more circumspect. Gravity is one of those laws that, unless you are an astronaut, you just can’t break. These days I tend to allow all due deference to that bitchy Mistress Gravity. She’s always going to win.






Today’s theme for Theme Thursday is flip.

Photo by Charlie Balch and used royalty free from stock.xchng.


Haaaowww, Might As Well Jump!

Oh hell, I did NOT just reference Van Halen for today’s Theme Thursday topic of jump, did I?

Oh wait. Yes I did.

Ahem. Let’s move on. Quickly.

The topic of jumping has been on my mind lately. The Good Man and I have been discussing this in hushed and worried tones.

You might remember this post from back in May where I described the miracle of my betta fish named Benito. Bubba almost died on us, but he was miraculously saved by The Good Man.

After that rough spot, our little Benito thrived but was fairly timid. The Good Man did some reading up and found that a male betta will become more aggressive as he becomes comfortable with his surroundings.

Well, we’ve had Benito for nine months now and Mr Fish has become VERY comfy in his own little fish house.

So comfy that he’s become a very naughty fish.

When we feed him, he loves to make sport of it. He’ll leap at the food nuggets like he’s got Jaws-like delusions of grandeur.

He’ll hide back behind his heater, and when I drop a pellet and then point to it with my finger, he’ll come charging out ignoring the food pellet and leap to bite my finger.

I swear I hear a tiny “rowrrrr” every time he nips my finger.

Feeding him has become a chore because he’s too busy trying to bite me or do a flying leap onto the food pellet that he misses the damn thing and has to chase it around the bowl.

The Good Man thinks this is funny and encourages him, making his own “rowrr” sounds. Must be a guy thing….

Anyhow, the other day, The Good Man was on feeding duty and he had the packet of pellets in his hand. TGM turned to say something to me, and when he turned back, Benito had jumped clean out of the water and landed on the table.

He’d seen the pellet pack and his buddy TGM and it was ON!

We scooped Benito up and put him back in his bowl and he’s no worse for the wear, and no less ready to leap for his food pellets.

We have to keep his water level a bit low and keep the lid down so we can contain his exuberance. I knew that bettas were notorious jumpers, but come oooon.

An aside for you fish folks who might question: yes, we tested to be sure he wasn’t leaping because his water was ammoniated. Nope, he was just being naughty.

This morning I decided to try to take a photo of my little fish. Having the camera near the bowl stresses him out, so I try not to do it very often or for a very long at a time. Plus, he’s a fast little bugger and hard to photograph.

But here is my little bubba fish (terrible angle, makes him look huge!). Don’t be fooled by the cute eyes…he’s ready to jump. He’d already flared at the camera and leapt at my fingers by this point.

Boys can be so rude! Our other little fish Margaret is such a sweet little girl and easy to feed.

Not so with this troublemaker: