The dog's five point plan

What's a dog to when her person "forgets" to throw the ball to her for the one millionth time?

Here, the dog shares with you her five point plan.


One: Bring the ball over and drop it within your person's reach.


Two: stare at the ball to see if it moves.


Three: pick up the ball and throw a little closer to your person.


Four: put the ball on your person.


Five: try shifting positions.


Repeat step four.


Repeat step four.


Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat,repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat,repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat,repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat,repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat,repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.


Success!
.

For the sake of being a genius

Your IQ Is 140

Your Logical Intelligence is Genius Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Genius

I think the result of this IQ test might be wrong. Because I'm pretty sure my IQ is higher than 140.

Case in point, this exchange with Steve, my physical therapist:

Steve: "Are you walking for the sake of walking?"

Me: "Uh, what other sake would I be walking for?"

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test. [via]

Refreshments were served

Here are a couple of pictures from my mom's "meet the artist" event at the Hourglass Gallery in Melrose. I thought her work looked spectacular and it seemed like there were a fair number of people there. The paintings will be on display for at least another week and she always has a painting or two available for sale at the shop, along with cards and prints of her work. The gallery is located at 458 Main Street, Melrose (click here for directions).

The Friday list goes local

The Hourglass Gallery in Melrose is having a "meet the artists" reception on Saturday, August 27th, at noon as part of their "Arts Alive" series. And one of the artists you can meet at the event is my mom, Diane Sawler McLaughlin. That's her painting, over there on the left.

Two other local artists, Robin Beaty and Ed Rice, will also be showing their work. The gallery is located at 458 Main Street, Melrose (click here for directions). Refreshments will be served.

(Refreshments will be Served, by the way, is the working title of my memoir about my days as the Rockport reporter for the Gloucester Daily Times.)

***

I've always enjoyed reading Peter Chianca's column in the North Shore Sunday weekly newspaper. He has a great sense of humor and he's a damn good writer, too. So imagine how happy I was to discover that Chianca has a blog. The At Large Blog is as funny and as well-written as Chianca's columns. In fact, it may be even funnier and more well-writtener. [via Universal Hub]

***

Being Jennifer Garrett, always a fun read in spite of (or perhaps because of) the tagline "every day an adventure in mediocrity" plans to read and write about 100 blogs in 100 days. I just went to the post to check that link and--holy crap--it has 124 comments. And, although I didn't read all of those comments, I'm guessing that 123 of them are people asking her to read and write about their blogs. Which means that she's going to have to read a lot more than 100 blogs, because I'm also guessing that 97 of the 124 commenters' blogs are crap. And, so far at least, she isn't picking crap blogs. Then again, it's only day four.
.

Bird Watching

Here's another photo from yesterday morning's walk on the beach.

The dog likes to keep an eye on the birds so she can watch where they land and chase 'em if they need chasing. I'm pretty sure that's the sheltie in her.

She never even comes close to catching them, though.

I'm guessing that's the beagle in her.
.

Widening my horizons

In celebration of my one year blogiversary (sorry) I decided to redecorate Gienna Writes a little bit. Rearrange the furniture, get rid of some of the nicknacks that were just collecting dust, and prettify things a bit.

One thing you'll notice right away is that I moved the pay-per-click ads from the top of the page to the bottom and replaced them with a Flickr badge that randomly displays 8 of my photos. You can click any of the pictures for the larger, full-sized image or click on the link to see all of my pictures in a really cool slideshow.

The other thing I did--and I can't quite believe I never thought of this before--was to expand the post space and reduce the size of the sidebar, which allows me to display my pictures at a larger size. There's two benefits to this. First, when you post to your blog using Flickr, you have to choose from preset sizes, none of which are the standard 400 pixel width that most Blogger templates use for the posting space. And, as I've discussed here before at great boring lengths, when you post a picture at a different size than the original it often looks pixilated. The medium size for pictures posted on Flickr is 500 pixels. So now I'm posting pictures at 500 pixels and, hopefully, that will improve the quality a great deal. The second benefit is that now folks don't have to click on the picture to see the larger, clearer image. It's just right there on the page.

I also reposted these three pictures at the larger sizes, and I think the difference in quality is clear, but I am going to resist the compulsive temptation to redo every photo I've ever posted here.

And, just in case anyone from work sees this, I did it all at home, I swear.
.

And all is right with the world ... Sort of

This morning I took the dog for a walk on the beach. Technically, dogs aren't allowed back on the beach until October, but if you get there early enough there's nobody to complain. The beach was deserted when we arrived, the outgoing tide had washed the sand smooth behind it, the air was crisp and clear and the sun was shining as it rose against a beautiful blue backdrop dotted with fluffy white clouds. It was just one of those gorgeous late-summer-in-New-England kind of mornings, the kind that make you want to breathe life deeply, that make you happy to be alive. By the time we left, there were quite a few other dogs and their owners heading down to or away from the beach. Everyone I met seemed to catch my eye and smile at me, as if good mornings were contagious.

When I got home I realized my fly was down.

Seriously, is it me or do they not make zippers the way they used to?
.

Do I smell something?

What am I, hard of smelling? Of course I smell something.

Proving yet again that life really is a Seinfeld episode, I'm having a smelly car problem. The sad thing is that there could be any number of causes for the smell--I've never been the type to keep a neat, clean vehicle. But this smell is beyond beyond. So I threw out the old coffee cups and the other junk that had piled up on the floor and washed all the windows and wiped down the dashboard. I left a mesh bag filled with lava rocks (it's supposed to soak up smells) in the car overnight.

This morning, thinking that the odor molecules had at least 12 hours to de-smellify, I opened the door ... and the smell punched me right in the face. It was almost as though it had gained strength overnight. Pretty soon I'll be driving with my head stuck out the window like a dog.

Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure now that the source of the smell has something to do with the dog. Which means I'm going to have to clean the seats with carpet cleaner and a vacuum. If that doesn't work, I might have to sell the car. And if that doesn't work, I might have to park it in Lynn with the keys in the ignition.

What happened? My car stinks is what happened. And it’s destroying the lives of everyone in its path.
.

Take that, you nefarious ne'er-do-wells

Blogger has another new feature: Word verification for comments. It's a way to stop automated systems from leaving comment spam. I don't get a lot of comment spam here, but I do occasionally have to delete a comment that touts some financial stock that's about to explode. It happens often enough that I've decided to turn on word verification for Gienna Writes.

What this means is that if you leave a comment you will have to type in a series of computer-generated letters before your comment will be posted. It's not as complicated as it sounds, I promise. Click here for a brief explanation of how it works.

[via Blogger Buzz]

Ways to while away your Friday

I knew it: Gossip is good for you and Cookies aren't bad for you. Mmmmm, cookies. Oh, wait. Wrong kind of cookie. Never mind.

On Wednesday I ranted about the beverage industry a little bit. But I've got to hand it to 'em. Those cola companies are coming up with new products all the time. Mmmmm, Chunky Pepsi and Double-Diet No-Vanilla Neapolitan Okay-Some-Vanilla Cherry Coke.

And while we're being all New Yorker-y, here's what's possibly the best first line of a short story ever: In the spring of 1988, Vasya Brkic, waking from a dream in which she was a wolf, bit her husband's neck and killed him in the bed they shared. If you don't have time to read this, print it out, because as far as I can tell, the New Yorker only makes one story available online at a time. When the next one is published, this one goes away.

Click here to see a picture of my office mate. Just kidding!*

If your mother is a muggle and your father is a wizard ... For the first time in my life, I understand the basic concepts of mendelian genetics, thanks to this letter in the journal Nature.

Can you spot the difference between a fake smile and a real one? I think the better question is where the hell did they find these people? I got 14 out of 20 correct, by the way. [via I am Bored]
.

The psychopath next door

I always wondered how it is that people who know people who are serial killers don't figure it out. I mean, how can you be married to a guy who is murdering people and burying them in your basement and not notice that? Looking at the pictures, in retrospect, it seems so f-ing obvious that these people are not normal. You would think that there would be signs for those who cared to look. And yet they managed to blend into society, to seem perfectly normal, to get away with it. Or at least get away with it for way too long.

I think what really worries me is the possibility that I could know a serial killer and not know that they are a serial killer. It's bad enough that there are evil people in the world. But the idea that they have the ability to hide in plain site is what's truly terrifying. This piece from ABC news, Beware the Friendly Neighborhood Killer, discusses the phenomenon of the "normal" serial killer.

It didn't make me feel any better.
.

Mad Mad Mad Mad Mad Mad Marketing

I don't neccessarily have an opinion about soft drinks in school vending machines, OK? And if I did there wouldn't be much I could do about it. But lots of other people do. And can. People such as school principals and schools superintendents and school board members. People who have the power to ban soft drink vending machines from their schools altogether as a way to stop kids from getting even fatter than they already are, since fat kids are in danger of developing type 2 diabetes or even double diabetes. And, no, I'm not making double diabetes up.

Anyway, schools across the nation have already banned sugar laden drinks and snacks from being dispensed from school machines--I know because I wrote about it when I was an education reporter. Sometimes the school powers that be remove the machines completely. Sometimes they replace the soft drinks with milk. The soft drink companies don't like either choice very much. Nor does their lobbying arm, the American Beverage Association.

So what does the trade group do? It comes up with its own policy, which gives the appearance that the group is doing the right thing by promoting a healthy lifestyle but is really aimed at protecting one of its members' most valuable markets: maleable mini-consumers who have not yet developed lifelong brand loyalty, who are a captive audience, and who have lots of pocket change to burn.

Here's the policy:
* Elementary students get water and 100% juice.
* Middle schoolers get water, juice, sports drinks, no-calorie soft drinks, and low-calorie juice drinks. Full-calorie soft drinks and juice will only be dispensed from vending machines after school.
* In high school, almost anything goes, including full-calorie soft drinks and juice, though they won't make up more than 50% of the choices.

Do you see it? Do you see the mad genius behind this policy?

What they've done is made their products forbidden full-calorie fruit, as it were. They've added more mystique and allure to a can of Coke or Pepsi than 100 athletes, comedians, supermodels, singers, or Spice Girls could. Because only the cool older kids are allowed to drink them. And middle-schoolers only get a little taste, after school. Just enough to get hooked. By the time these kids hit high school they'll be jonesing for the juice and cola.

And do you think it is magnanimous of the soft drink companies to agree not to market to the very youngest consumers? Think again: both juice (such as Minute Maid) and water (such as Dannon and Dasini) are made by soft drink companies. Milk, on the other hand, is not made by soft drink companies. Notice that the soft drink industry's policy never mentions the m-word.

Besides, it's not like the average elementary school-age student gets a huge allowance.

My favorite line from this Reuters story about the policy: "The American Beverage Association said it asked companies and school districts to make changes as soon as possible."

Well, duh. Of course they did. The alternative was this.
.

What do you make of this?

Well, it could be a hat. Or it could be a brooch. Or it could be a pterodactyl.
.

e-Abstract 2

(Click for a larger, clearer image)

Can you tell what it is yet?
.

eAbstract

Yesterday I took photographs of some of the items I plan to auction off on eBay. It took a long time because I kept taking photographs that, while interesting, aren't good examples of what your pictures should look like if you want to strike it rich on eBay.
.

Budget 911

In May I traded my unpredictable life as a freelancer for a full-time job with benefits and a regular paycheck. I'm making pretty decent money, it's coming in every two weeks like clockwork, and I no longer have to pay hundreds of dollars a month for my self-employed health insurance. I'm even making a little extra freelance money on the side.

But I'm still broke. And I'm not just broke. I am BROKE. Today I'm picking out some things to sell on eBay (including this cute little tin litho car). But I'm so broke that I'm worried about whether I can cover the auction listing fees. I'm so broke that I'm planning to raid my change jar and return some bottles to the store get the deposit back. Pathetic, huh?

Every month I think I'm going to get ahead financially and every month I slip a little further behind. At first I wasn't really sure why this was happening. I thought for sure I was making a mistake in balancing my checkbook. Or that someone had stolen my debit card. Or that my direct deposit wasn't getting recorded. But I think I've figured out what's happening.

I'm spending too much money.

For one thing, I'm paying my taxes as I go along now (something I was never good at doing when I was self-employed). I guess that's preferable to getting to April 15 and realizing I owe the government thousands of dollars that I don't actually have. For another, I used up all my savings and built up some credit card debt in the months before I got this job. I knew it was going to take me a while to pay off my debt and start saving again. But I'm used to paying off my credit card balance each month and the finance charges are killing me. But the real problem isn't neccessarily poor cash flow or interest charges. It's that I'm still spending money as if I have money. Which I don't.

I need to stop doing that.
.

People who are not like you and me

This week I went to see the surgeon who performed my microdiscectomythingamahoozie last month. Would you like to guess how long I waited to see him?

Three hours.

The good news is that I'm all caught up on all of the back issues of Field & Stream that I didn't have a chance to read before.
.

For your Friday afternoon viewing pleasure

OK, here's the thing. I don't understand this. But I still like it. [via Drawn.]

Dude, who stole my face? What is Kipp from Less Than Perfect doing on this site?

Ouch. Current TV is as '90s as an asymmetrical bob. [via Media Bistro]

I have TiVo, so even though I'm interested in advertising I hardly ever watch the ads themselves anymore. But now that I've found this I'll never be out of the loop again (free registration required).

I'm newly addicted to HappyScrappy, who is a friend of a friend. His table scraps posts are hilarious ... but I swear I'm not trying to steal his ideas.

Loyal reader (but infrequent commenter) RCAS suggested this link as an alternative, perhaps, to the now woefully defunct Fifty Words project.

And, finally, if you don't like this entry please don't consider it a failure. Think of it as a deferred success instead (thanks to my friend Susanna for that one).
.

Day Lily 2

This photo was taken on the same day as this photo. I just forgot to post it.
.

Blog depression need not ruin lives

This PSA on "blog depression" totally describes my current ambivalent feelings toward my own blog, which is coming up on its first anniversary and starting to get to be a bit of a drag. I've been thinking it was time to either change formats, close up shop, or just decide I no longer care if I don't update it every day (or even every third day). Never mind that the faux pamphlet, though funny enough on the surface of it, is actually a dig by Nonist's author at anyone who is lame enough to post about his or her blog life crisis. Or, rather, crises, since "a blog's lifespan is indeterminate, and so a blog life crisis must present itself more frequently as not to miss [its] mark." Anyway, I think that's it. It might be something else.

Ah, who the hell cares, anyway?

[via Blogger Buzz and Zephoria. Also check out this thoughtful post and interesting comments section discussion on The Tattered Coat.]
.