Photo Break

MIA? FLA!

~ lobablanca

Yes, dear denizens, it’s time once again to play “Where In the World Is Was Loba San Diego?”

(Thank you to those two Carmen San Diego fans who still laugh whenever I pull that one out of my hat.)

Snow wears you down, denizens. Wears you down and wears you out. If I have to haul another shovel-full of sludge, I might snap. So I packed up a ditty bag and rolled out for “The Happiest Place on Earth.”

North Platte, Nebraska.

I keed! I keed! I’m not even allowed in the state of Nebraska ever since that horrible corn husking accident back in ’87.

…

Where was I? Oh, yeah…Orlando! No, not Bloom. Florida. Home of Disney World, which ironically I completely circumnavigated the entire time I was there. Any place that allows the congregation of that much “little people” energy is as scary to me as a crib notes-free palm is to Sarah Palin.

POKE THE BEAR!!!

I was a work stowaway, sneaking in under the watchful eye of others who had to work while Loba was there to play. It wasn’t quite as warm as I had hoped it would be, but anything above the freezing mark is going to be a marked improvement. Plus…I saw grass! And sunshine!! And I now randomly emphasize my words to sound more like William Shatner!!!

There’s something so comforting about Florida. It’s home to so many childhood vacation memories. All I have to do is get a whiff of that sulfur-scented water and I’m right back at 10 years old, brushing my teeth at the latest Days Inn we’ve stopped at for the night (because at Days Inn, Kids Eat Free!), getting ready for bed but too wired to sleep because I know in the morning, we’re going to ___________________ (insert any random Florida attraction name in blank)!!

For this trip, I went back to one of those attractions that my dad took us to that I don’t think I truly appreciated at the time: the Ringling Museum. Yes, the Ringling of Ringling Brothers circus fame. John Ringling, to be precise, and his lovely wife Mable. It’s a strange destination, I know, but my family has a special relationship with the circus (anyone cracks a bearded lady joke here and your ass is grass). Plus, in addition to circus museums, there’s a huge art museum, beautiful gardens, and the Ringlings’ house, C

Stir-Crazy Still Life

~ lobablanca
Bananas aspire to have a little Captain ON them.
It's pronounced WhitTARD. Stupid Yank.
They just don't taste right without Snap, Crackle, AND Pop.
I told you not to look out there...
Now with 10 percent more liquified Flying Purple People Eater!
Things got ugly when they realized there was only enough ice cream for one more sundae...
Click and lust after my nerd shelf, denizens! LUST, I say!!
Beautiful from a distance...

The Unbearable Whiteness of Being

~ lobablanca

I feel like I’m stuck in a Forrest Gumpian storm right now.

We been through every kind of [snow] there is. Little bitty stingin’ [snow]… and big ol’ fat [snow]. [Snow] that flew in sideways. And sometimes [snow] even seemed to come straight up from underneath.

The entire state is under a blizzard warning. Wind gusts up to 50 mph. Not expected to stop until 7 tonight. Oh, and by the way, if you click on the photo to the right, look for the little black mark in the snow. That’s a park bench.

Needless to say, my office is closed again, as is the federal government. As is really most everything in the area.

I’m sorry to keep blathering on about the snow. I can’t seem to think about anything else. All this blinding whiteness has permeated my brain cells. All I see are glittery, flittery flakes. All I can hear is the cold, silent sizzle of snow piling on top of more snow.

I totally regressed this morning when I finally hauled my chilled bones out of bed. I made myself a bowl of Cream of Wheat. That was what my dad would always make me during the winter: Cream of Wheat, buttered toast, and hot chocolate poured into my special mug from Silver Springs in Florida. Home of the famous glass bottom boats. Also where six Tarzan movies were filmed, along with The Creature From the Black Lagoon and the television show Sea Hunt. Actually, quite a bit has been filmed at Silver Springs. Check it out.

I miss our annual family vacations to Florida. True, sometimes we went to major attractions like Disney or Sea World. But my dad had a proclivity for finding the places far off the beaten path. Places like Silver Springs or Cypress Gardens. Gatorland. Marine Land. My dad still has a collection of hats from almost every single place we ever visited.

One of the last trips we took together, we all went to Bok Tower Gardens, with their beautiful singing carillon tower and the tamest, plumpest squirrels I’ve ever seen. They’d skitter down the trees and amble over, waving their tail plumes in greeting as they came. Of course, if you didn’t have a peanut or two for them, you risked having one climb up your leg. Best to have some nuts for them.

I wonder what those squirrels would think of all this snow.

When I was 6 years old, my parents dropped me off at school. It had snowed the night before, enough to cause school to open 2 hours late. So at around 10:30, I climbed out of my dad’s Dodge Dart, the infamous “Yellow Submarine,” and headed into the trailer where my first-grade class took place. Only when I opened the door, the lights were off and the trailer was completely empty and cold.

I still remember that panic of thinking that I was about to be left all alone at my school. I remember jumping off the little porch to the trailer and running after my parents as they drove away, crying out for them to stop.

I also remember the patch of ice that I hit, and how said patch projectile-rocketed me about five feet forward and to the right of my dad’s car. Thank goodness it didn’t shoot me completely straight. I might still be sporting a Dodge symbol scar on my forehead.

My parents thankfully heard me, as did the teacher in the trailer two down from my class’s trailer. Seems that he was supposed to be watching for students and telling them to come to his classroom. Seems he sucked at his assignment. Such is life.

To this day, however, I have an innate fear of ice. Pardon the pun, but I freeze on ice. Feeling the terrain slip beneath my feet puts me right back at 6 years old, shooting across the parking lot in a panic as my parents drive away. It totally sucks.

Kind of like unending snow. Ha! Didn’t think I could bring this one back around, did you?

Yeah, I’m just going bat-shit crazy at this point. But I’ve just found a CSI marathon on SpikeTV. Looks like they’re playing good episodes from early in the series. The Grissom Years. Ooh, and this episode stars Kate Vernon, she soon known as Ellen Tigh to BSG fans. So I must jet. I’ll probably be back though. It’s not like I’m going anywhere else today…

There’s Something Flaky About Those Photos

~ lobablanca

Okay, break time from the shoveling. Although not really shoveling. Just sad, pathetic attempts to shove around a bunch of lumps of slushy snow without slipping and skidding onto my ass as I walk across the big sheet of ice that now passes as our parking lot. I have a strong suspicion that Sammy isn’t moving anywhere any time soon.

This was Sammy yesterday as the snow was still falling. Like his windshield wiper horns and his snowhawk? He’s now at least dusted off for the most part, but the snow drifts all around him come up to his windows. I’ve kind of cleared a path along his starboard side, but my muscles revolted at the thought of tackling the port side. Just like everything revolted when I fell into this snowdrift yesterday:

Yeah, I’m not a short person, so when you see me standing in snow higher than my thighs, you know things are going to be a bit shit. Kind of like Queen Elizabeth is a bit royal or curling is a bit Canadian.

Again, though, it is pretty to watch. From inside. With coffee and Rice Krispy treats and a feckin’ awesome telephoto lens. Here, then, are some highlights of the past two days. Then it’s off to have some lunch and back outside. The Bobcats have arrived to help dig us out, so maybe it won’t be too terribly bad. I just have to keep telling myself that.

Hailing Frequencies Closed

~ lobablanca

My parents informed me last night that my magical, mystical doodle cat, the enigmatic Mr. Data, passed from this existence last Thursday. My dad said that he woke up that morning and went into the kitchen to make coffee. Data was on the counter where he had fallen asleep the previous evening. He looked up at my dad, meowed once, and was no more.

Always the gentleman, he waited until he could properly say goodbye and thank you before departing.

Part of me wasn’t surprised when my parents told me. Part of me somehow expected to hear this news when I called. I don’t know how to explain it, but somehow I already knew. Part of me regrets that I wasn’t there to say goodbye. Part of me doesn’t ever want to have to say goodbye to another pet ever again. It’s way too hard and, quite frankly, my soul is a bit weary of saying goodbye to those I love.

Still, he had a magnificent run at this life. He would have been 18 years old this June, which means that he was part of my life for more than half of my existence. I’d post photos of him in his kittenhood, he with his perfectly triangular head and skinny kitty body, but those will need to be scanned. Yes, he predated digital cameras. Came before my first cell phone, too. He even slightly predated my very first computer, which came into the house a few months after his arrival.

Obviously, he didn’t’ predate my Trek obsession. Poor little guy, stuck with a nerd name all his life. It was his own fault, though. His eyes were the most beautiful…most Data shade of gold imaginable when he was a kitten. There really was no other name for him. The gold metamorphosed and faded as he aged, but they remained beautiful. Just like him.

He was a rescue kitty, found crawling out of a gutter by my aunt. Filthy and flea-infested, he was hardly recognizable as feline. So she took him home, bathed him and gave him food. He thanked her by voraciously consuming said food and then pooping in her plant box. That was pretty much when I fell in love with him. How could I not?

Eighteen years is a long time to remember, too many years and far too many joyful memories to fully encapsulate in the space of this post. But to say simply that he was a wonderful, beautiful specimen of felinicity seems somehow insignificant.

He was Data. Hinja-Doodle. Prettiest Kitty in the World.

He outlived both of my dogs. More significantly, he survived Jodie’s puppydom. He also survived a poor decision on his part to consume part of a fake Christmas tree. Plastic pine needles are not good for digestion. He traded in one of his nine lives to learn this truth.

In his twilight years, he became a country king, moving with my parents to the Tarheel State. He was technically my kitty, but, as I wrote previously in my Angry BloggerTM days, he and my father shared a special bond, perhaps borne from their solitary maleness in an estrogen-heavy house. Who was I to tear that bond asunder?

I don’t really know what else to say. My doodle cat is gone.

Au revoir, Mr. Data. Je t’aime.

Picture Worth A Thousand Geek Squees

~ lobablanca

While looking for something else in my photo archives, I came across this. I’d give you a setup, but I really think this speaks quite well on its own.

And then this morning, my alarm went off while I was in the middle of a dream in which I was interviewing Nana Visitor for a talk show that I was auditioning to take over, I think from Conan O’Brien.

I’ve really gotta lay off the Trek.

Please Don’t Call Them Resolutions

~ lobablanca

Back at work for the first time of the new decade. W00t is in order, I suppose. It’s always so very difficult to get back into the work mindset after the holidays. It seems particularly difficult this year, what with the snow breaks and all. I knew, when we got 2 feet of snow before winter even started, that we were in for it but good this year. Snow flurries are expected tonight, and oh but it’s hella cold. Still in the upper 20s with an expected high of 32. These would be lovely temperatures if I was in England. Being in the States, however, I’m none too keen on them. I’d like to regain feeling in my toes at some point today.

It could be worse, I know. I heard on the news this morning that somewhere at the very tippy-toppy of Minnesota hit -33 degrees. I tried to process that information, but I think I pulled a muscle.

So, what’s the point of this post? I suppose to give a preview of things I’ve been thinking about doing here at the lair. I’m not calling them resolutions. I think those are silly. These are just things that I’d like to tackle this year. I like schedules and deadlines, and the beginning of the year seems like a nice place to start, no?

As I already mentioned, I’m not going to be doing the 50 Book Challenge again this year. I’m still going to be reading constantly, but at whatever pace I find most comfortable at the time. My main goal this year is to read only, or mostly, books that I own but have never read. I went through my shelves this weekend and collected about 40 books that fit this description. There are still others on the shelves like this, but the ones I chose are the oldest of the bunch. Some I don’t even remember buying.

Sigh.

Anyway, I went through last year’s list and discovered that of the 51 books I read, I own 30 of them. Of those 30, I’ve tagged 4 to be donated to the local thrift store: Resistance, One on One, The Road, and Before Dishonor. That might not sound like a lot to some, but for this book geek, that’s a huge milestone. If I can do the same thing this year, I’ll feel extremely accomplished.

I’m also going to do something similar with my DVD collection. I’ve got a disgusting number of DVDs. If I count all my special editions and television series, I think I’m well over 500 at the moment. I love movies almost as much as I love books. But I must admit that there are several DVDs in my collection right now that scream WTF. I haven’t watched them since I bought them…or I haven’t watched them at all. It’s time for a little culling of the DVD herd, so to speak. Time to target all those impulse buys from the used CD store or the various bargain bin buys I failed to resist. It will be a thorough review, not just of the movie itself but also of all the special features included on the DVD. It’s only fair to give the movie as fair a chance as possible to stay, right?

I plan on continuing Flashback Friday on a weekly basis. I know I missed last Friday and my Christmas post, while dealing with a favorite movie from my childhood, wasn’t tagged as a flashback…so I missed two in a row. I promise to fix that this week. I also plan on reviving my Poster Picks and Gaming Glory series. I don’t have a schedule for either, but I do have a few entries for each that I hope to tackle very soon.

The only other things you should expect here at the lair is a continuation of my geekery (life without Star Trek is not really life, IMHO), more PhotoShop phun, more silliness, more surliness, and more things that make absolutely no sense. I hope you’ll continue to visit. I do enjoy watching you all come and go through my tracking software.

Real world “things to come”? I suppose there are a few. More fun writing, of course. I’ve already started working on outlines for two short story ideas. Not sure if I’ll use either, but it’s nice to be thinking about them, to be thinking about writing again.

Also, I need to get back into my workout routine, which was completely derailed since Thanksgiving. I haven’t worked out for a solid week in a ridiculously long time, and I feel rather like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man because of this. It also didn’t help that the holidays bring with them all variety of culinary sins. So less sugar, more fruit. Even less rum and more water. EEK.

And more walking during the day. I’m already walking more anyway thanks to a parking garage shift, but I also think I’m going to start walking up the 11 flights of stairs to my office again. Not every day like I used to. Maybe every other day. Or at the very least, once a week. Definitely on any day that I’m not wearing my Janeway heels.

Yes, I own these shoes. I know, they look ridiculous and nothing like the comfortable Docs I prefer. But…well, I like how Amazonian I feel when I wear them. I easily graze the 6-foot mark when I wear these puppies. Yes, it’s silly. I’m already taller than most women in my office. But I like giving some of the guys a run for their money as well 😉

[Trek Tangent: As ridiculous as these shoes are, at least they aren’t as completely out-of-place in my working world as they were in Major Kira’s and Captain Janeway’s worlds. I never understood the logic behind putting Nana Visitor or Kate Mulgrew in the heels they wore with their uniforms. Even more ridiculous? Jeri Ryan’s heels. I’m surprised she never broke something when bouncing through the corridors or planetside. No wonder she’s in her fuzzy slippies here!]

YaY for TrekCore and their rare photos section!

Okay, I’ve prattled on enough for now. Time to get back to work. I’ve got miles to go before I sleep leave. Hope you all are off to a wonderful start to your 2010!

It’s Not an Illness If It’s This Organized

~ lobablanca

Yes, this is one of the several containers that my parents have in storage for me. Yes, every single bit of its contents could be tossed tomorrow with no serious repercussions…

…if having part of my soul recycled into dollar store toilet paper falls under the category, “no serious repercussions.”

Honestly, though, WTH am I ever going to do with calendars and TV Guides dating all the way back to 1995? Am I simply biding my time until I cross over into the age range in which it will not only become acceptable but expected for me to start decoupaging EVERYTHING in the house? I’ll just wile away my days, glugging sipping Captain Morgan and Dr. Pepper as I trim out Beverly Crushers and Dana Scullys for that extra special “Titian-Tressed Angels of Asclepius” medicine cabinet decoupage.

Okay, I need to stop, because that actually sounds fun…

Talk About Performance Anxiety

~ lobablanca

Oh but I do love those Kiwis.

This was a billboard erected (heehee) by an Anglican church in Auckland, New Zealand, for their Christmas service. According to this Guardian article, Archdeacon Glynn Cardy claimed that the billboard’s intent was to challenge the fundamentalist interpretation of Christ’s birth:

What we’re trying to do is to get people to think more about what Christmas is all about. Is it about a spiritual male God sending down sperm so a child would be born, or is it about the power of love in our midst as seen in Jesus?

I bet this guy presides over a really fun group of parishioners. And if he doesn’t, he should.

I’m trying to envision how this billboard would go over in the States…say, in Bunnykill, Alabama. I’m not imagining anything nearly as amusing or provocative, and that’s a shame. I’d actually be very interested in hearing the sermon that goes along with this billboard. Of course, I also used to get yelled at by our high school Bible teacher all the time because I had to keep questioning him.

Silly girl…don’t you know questioning is for sinners?