Kilns are bothersome and I needs a nap

Here is my first-o'-the week whiny post. I have to work until Saturday (wah) and I am already tired just thinking about it. These striped sleepers are doing what I would be doing right now, had I my deepest wish at this time. I will not get to snooze for long tomorrow either, because while I have secured the right to show up for work a couple of hours late in the morning, it's because I have to go to school and fire a kiln. Fire a kiln you say? Yes, I do. What does that entail, Sarah? Well, let me enlighten you. It has to be candled, which means turned on low to prime itself, tonight. My instructor for ceramics has kindly offered to do that for me. Then, starting at 9 a.m., it needs to be turned up to low, low, off (three temperature dials.) Then at 10, it gets low, low, low, and at 11, medium, low, low, then at 12, medium, medium, low, at 1, med.,med.,med., then 2 is high, med.,med., 3 is high, high, med., and finally four is high, high, high! THEN the actual firing of my sculpture begins. Naturally, I can't be there for the whole day, but I was only able to find a classmate to hook me up with temperature adjustment assistance between the hours of 12-4. So I have to turn it up every hour from 9-11, then go to work, then get off of work at 5:30, head over to the kiln room again, check to see if the piece is done, and if not, go back over when I get out of class at 9:45 p.m., and finally turn the kiln off. It is supposed to turn itself off, but it may not do so, hence my need for supervision. And of course, heaven forbid my piece blows up or melts or something. This is all for a class I wouldn't have taken if my registration hadn't been late, and while I'm getting an A, I don't even like clay that much. Did I mention that I have slacked and don't have a student ID, which I'll need to get to get into the building after classtimes are over for the day, which means I'll have to go get one made between low, low, low and medium, low, low. Oh, kitties, how I wish I was free to nap eighty percent of the day, like your soft and snoozy selves. Maybe I'll train my lil' fuzzy buddy to turn temperature dials so I can sleep in next time....

Pics + computer = lots o' fun

This is my obligatory Flickr post. I don't have much to say about it, because as you can see from my excellent visual aids, I already have facile abilities with the online photo sharing websites. I can tell you that I heartily enjoy the concept, and have a personal account with Photobucket, which is about the same. Alas, I have lost the wee cord that goes from my camera to the computer, so for the last little while I have been unable to upload. I got an email from Photobucket that said "your album misses you" and actually felt guilty. Just as I do when I don't post to this blog, or check my Facebook or Myspace and respond, or just my email (all 5 accounts). Cyberspace, how could you do me like this? I thought I had enough guilt from normal human relations (i.e. why haven't you called me? and how could you miss your cousin's wedding? etc. etc.) and now I have to feel bad when I don't upload photos to the interwebs! Also, not being able to do so poses problems, in that fabulous photos are mounting in number on my camera, and if I ever do find the cord, I will not be able to remember what they are about. On the other hand, the situation has probably kept me from posting self portraits that I thought were pretty good when I took them (Hey! If I put this one as my profile pic, my future husband just has to notice!) but turned out not so much the next morning. Anyhow, Flickr and the like are especially good in my mind because I never have the wherewithal to actually turn digital photos into print photos, but (if one has the usb cord) it is much easier to save them into a virtual album and forgo the whole paper thing. Of course, don't tell my mom that. REAL pictures are important for posterity and we should never forget that, you know.

Well, it didn't work. In the course of attempting to influence the universe via the internets, I forgot the cardinal rule. You don't say (or in this case, post) your wishes aloud. Stupid! I have had that drilled into my head at every birthday-candle-blowing-out since practically birth, and then I went and dropped the proverbial ball, thus ruining my chances. There is, of course, as they so kindly mentioned in the "we regret to inform you" email, another opportunity to get tickets when they go on sale to the *gasp* general public this weekend, but then I'll be at the mercy of a million different factors, not least of which are my slow-as-heck laptop at home and the hundreds of thousands of other fans that will be trying to access the Ticketmaster website at exactly the same moment. Not to mention the freakin' impossible to decipher "captcha" thing you have to type (You know what I'm talking about. It's wavy, distorted, upside down, tiny, faint, or in a foreign language. Or all of the above.) before you can place your order. I will try, of course, but my hopes have dwindled considerably. Of course, I have tickets for other shows, and I could try to orchestrate a trade, but these things are not concrete, and I wanted confirmation in my hot little hands, dammit. It is a sad day in Tigertown, that's for sure. Not only am I not able to alter the future via my blog, but I may not get to go to Red Rocks AGAIN. Dang.

Psychedelic Kitteh wants to go to COLORADO

Here is my attempt to influence fate by sending a fervent wish out into the world via the internets. Today, tomorrow, and the next day are the window in which the Ticket Gods will decide if my lottery request for Phish tickets will be awarded. I have requested two tickets for each night at the famed Red Rocks Ampitheatre outside Denver, Colorado. I have wanted to see them play there for the last 14 years. The band was actually forbidden to play there due to the excessive amount of fan insanity back in their heyday. I guess the powers that be decided that the new, reunited version of the band is no longer a threat. (This might have something to do with the fact that their core fan base is now in their thirties instead of early twenties...) I will have to sell a kidney to afford the shows and the plane ticket and accomodations, but I would gladly do so. This venue is legendary. You see the band play amidst red rock mesas towering over your head as the music is amplified by the near-perfect acoustics. Or so I hear. Please, oh mighty random lottery, grant me my wish! I want to pay your service charges and online fees! How can you turn me down!

This will work, of course. I can influence the universe with my blog, didn't you know?

You remind me of the babe, and I mean that in the nicest way.

Haha! Don't get it in your head. You don't want it there! It's the most infectious ditty ever attributed to David Bowie! And now I've done it. I'll be mentally avoiding that business all day. If you don't know the tune to which I refer, go on out and get yourself a copy of Labyrinth, feat. Jennifer Connolly in her nascence and Bowie himself, as well as a fantastic array of puppetry. There are no tigers in the film, but if there was, it would be a puppet tiger and have a sarcastic attitude and a duplicitous nature. There is, however, a fox riding a dog, so that will have to do. Although I couldn't find a full body shot of him doing so, rest assured he does indeed have a sheepdog steed. (Sorry.) If this movie was a blankie, I would have worn it to tattered shreds by now many times over. Doesn't hurt that our protagonist shares my name, or that Jim Henson is responsible for the puppets, or that Brian Froud designed the look, or that Bowie is AWESOME. What does hurt is that tune. Damn, I don't know what kind of magic spell to use. Maybe some puppy dog tails. I'm too busy trying to learn how to juggle crystal balls across my knuckles to figure it out.

Asthma is for the cool kids now, and Golden Girls remembered.

Hey! Did you ever want to read a blog by a genius poet? A bona-fide librarian? A thought-provoking and hilarious cartoonist? A rodent sympathizer? A founding member of the Hipster movement? (maybe not the last...she'll be killing me for that one, haha.) Of course you do, now that I've piqued your interest! Well, dear readers, you're one click away from the right place. My most excellent and revered friend has a great site, the Asthma Chronicles, to which you'll find a link on your left. My heartfelt thanks to anyone who goes there, as she has kindly offered to make me famous with a link from her blog to mine, so I'm returning the favor. I am also providing you with a lovingly rendered line drawing of a tiger, so you can begin to understand the flavor of the comics you're in store for (with far more humor than I could ever hope to provide) when you head on over there.

When I was a kid, the Dionne Warwick song that became the theme song for The Golden Girls struck a chord with me. It seemed like the ultimate (little kids are cheesy, give me a break) testament to friendship, and I used to sing it to all my stuffed pals with earnest feelings of love. Well, I'd like to think my taste in music (and testaments) has improved, but the thought still counts, and I'd like to say Thank You For Being A Friend to the asthmatic one. She may not be a psychic friend, but she doesn't cost $3.99 a minute to talk to, either.

Podcasting, plus destructive cats.

Today I learned about the wonders of Podcasting. While the term has a sort of old school alien movie flavor, (Oh no! Monster Zero has podcast me into oblivion! Captain Kirk, my podcaster is malfunctioning! Quick! Podcast us into hyperspace! ) I really think the idea is cool. I am a visual person, so I like access to video about anything, but the whole idea that you could get whatever stuff you like sent to you via a feed is very exciting. There are obvious applications for any profession, but the library can benefit from recording programs and podcasting them, as well as book reviews, maybe computer tutorials, info about community events, etc. etc. No segue comes to mind between podcasting and bad cats, so I won't even try. In the illustration I've provided you today, you'll note a Tiger eating a Windshield Wiper Blade. My cat, who is looking all sweet and innocent up there in his portrait, is equally damaging to all things scratchable in the home. Were I to unleash him on the out of doors, he might even chew on a wiper blade. I wouldn't put it past him. He is probably a third of the way through the wood frame on the door out to the deck; in addition to having ripped the finish off of anything wood with legs in the home. He also has an irritating predilection for destroying cardboard boxes by ripping them into as tiny bits as possible and spreading them evenly throughout the house. How I adore him. Especially when he throws the litter as far from the box as felinely possible. That's skill! (Don't even get me started on his vocal stylings. Or his incessant peeping, to be more specific.) He's a cute fuzzy buddy, but one of these days I'm going to podcast his little butt.

What would we do, baby, without us? Or Captain Stubing?

Whilst taking a break from perusing the financial pages, my old pal Alex P. decided to enjoy the company of a tiger. C'mon, Alex. You know you wanna take a nap with that kitteh. Incidentally, has anyone else been enjoying all that the net has to offer in the way of old tv shows? You can go to the network websites (like Nbc.com) and look at syndicated programs that they own the rights to, and also sites like Hulu and Tv.com have tons to watch. I have been reliving my youth (minus my jerky older sister telling me to change the channel) via these. I have watched about all the Love Boat there is out there (that is a freaking awesome show. Spelling knew what he was doing) and most of the Family Ties, except for what may be my favorite episode; the one where Tina Yothers decides to forsake Skippy in favor of the "cool girls" by wearing silky oversize blouses and horrible costume jewelry and talking like a mentally deficient person. Can't seem to track that one down. I recently watched a few Fantasy Islands (weirder than I even remembered!) and Facts of Life (exactly as I remembered. I watched that one a LOT) and One Day at a Time (Schneider!) and NO I don't have too much time on my hands. I'm really very busy. Busy being entertained by Captain Stubing and his wacky crew, that is.

I Can Lick 30 Tigers Today! Or not. Eew.

This lesser-known Seuss offering is a little gem I came across today in my work. (Yes, working! Not blogging!) It gives me an opportunity to point out the disparity between the good Doctor's word usage and the current meaning thereof. In the twenty-first century, licking a tiger would involve fur and your mouth, which is both a yucky and exceedingly dangerous endeavor. In the olden days (or perhaps 1969, as the copyright date would attest) "to lick" actually meant "to beat up" and, while it would be equally dangerous, might prove less nasty in the oral hygeine department. In the story, the Cat in the Hat is contemplating whupping 30 tigers, and then comes up with various reasons to knock one or two at a time off the total, ending with just one, who then gets out of a lickin' in favor of lunch. So, it's an illustration of the old "I felt great this morning, but now I could use a sandwich and a nap" scenario. Which is a common enough occurrence in my world. Here's to licking tigers, and lunchtime, and scaredy cats with accessories.

Lardball all a-twitter

This cat is an example of what my brain feels like when I have been looking at twitter; i.e., overstuffed. I recently joined Facebook at the behest of my sister, and am already overwhelmed by the minutiae that can be reported on a second-by-second basis through that website alone. So, twitter, in all its glory, is overkill. I need not know what people are up to at every moment, and frankly, I don't want to know. Yes, I was impressed when I read that lawmakers were twittering about the event during the president's speech to congress a few weeks ago, and I understand the implications of getting news and other forms of info sent to me, but what becomes increasingly clear the more I explore the wild and wooly web is that I feel like it's TOO MUCH INFORMATION. I guess the way to look at these tools is that they give you the power to select exactly what you want to know, instead of just being bombarded by random stuff on webpages. Still. I am going to have to pass on the tweeting. And you kids get off my damn lawn, too!

Dancing, dancing, and more dancing.

Here are some silly dancing tigers to commemorate the weekend I just spent dancing my butt off. I got to go see Phish's reunion shows in Hampton, Va, after an almost 5 year "break up" (yeah right.) I saw their final shows in Vermont, for a total of 107, so these were my 108th, 109th, and 110th. They played really well, better than they had at the "goodbye" shows and for some time before that, and I'd venture to say that their set choices hearkened back to what I consider a "golden age" for Phish tour; somewhere between '96 and around '00. It was GRRREAT! Wonderful to see the Family again, and nice to know my 30-plus self can still bust a move for three nights running. I laughed, I cried, I spent a riDONKulous amount of money, I saw people from all over the country, and I slipped and fell on a beer-soaked floor 3 different times. A weekend well spent! Now, I'm back to work at my nifty job, and my continuing intrepid exploration of all that Web 2.0 has to offer. Whee!

Rss feeds are not tasty.

Here is an actual feline pimp for your pleasure.

This post is satisfying my blog alter ego; the one that must comment on web 2.0 training, not tigers and their habits or associations. I learned about how to set up a reader and link RSS feeds to it today. This is an awesome feature of web 2.0 for some, I'm sure. I am still hooked on the anticipation of checking to see if a celebrity has worn a terrible outfit or my sister is cooking over one hundred cupcakes for her childrens' school party. I guess I don't consider my time valuable enough, yet, to give up surfing the web for all the things I'm interested in. But, I can understand the value of the feature, certainly for people who have busier lives than mine, or are interested in a vast variety of sites on the web. And I definitely think it is a wonderful application for libraries. I can just see moms getting their storytime schedules fed to them instantly, and what if people could get pre-overdue notices this way? Endless possibilities, really.

Tigers, piglets, and family life.

This here is a tiger with several piglet babies. Dressed as tiger babies, naturally. Because were they not in poorly constructed tigerlet suits, they would be snacks, and not her precious brood. This is a lesson for us all. Babies dressed as alternate mammals are still in need of milk. Even if it is from a big ferocious carnivore. And babies who are getting that milk from said carnivore should not look like dinner.

They should look like little pimps, instead.