Happy Summer Solstice!

Happy Birthday West Virginia!

You don’t look your age at all!

My cousin Math graduates from high school this week. Because the graduation is Tuesday afternoon, they held a graduation party Saturday for him, for those of us (most of us) who couldn’t make it down for graduation.

So… family pictures abound, including pictures of Math and his siblings, and pictures of my grandmother. Because everyone else had left by then, Michael is taking the group picture, so he isn’t in it. (I may need to invest in a tripod, for situations like this when there is nowhere to perch the camera and use the self-timer.)

Today’s OED Word of the Day:

selkie

[SEL-kee] a mythical sea creature that resembles a seal when it is in the water but is able to take on human form when on land. A Scottish term, it comes from selch, a word for a seal, and it can also be spelled silkie or selky.

The OED only sends out big and unusual words, so I was quite pleased to see a word I actually know!

Don’t forget! Sunday is World Sauntering Day!

I had a dream last night that I was visiting Tom (of Iron Monkey) in Portland. Upon entering his house I took off my shoes (as I usually do when entering someone’s house) and we sat and talked and had a nice time.

It was only when I went to leave that there was a problem. I could only find one shoe. And the more I looked around, the more shoes I found–under chairs, under the sofa, under beds–his house was full of women’s footwear. More specifically, black shoes.

So, Tom, what is it with all these shoes?

Ladies. Please.

We’re built to be curvacious and soft. It’s a good thing. Men like it. However, this means that when you wear tight running shorts, and roll the waistband down, you create rolls of fat.

This is not attractive.

I feel like I should carry a camera to take pictures of these people, to show them what they look like from behind.

And while I’m thinking about it…

ATTENTION WORLD!

A waistband, by its very etymology and definition, belongs around your WAIST. Not at your hips, and most definitely not falling off your ass like some white trash child who has to wear dirty Goodwill hand-me-downs from your obese older brother.

Thank you.

And Happy Birthday to Liz, who is 15 this year.

And Rules for Flying the Flag.

Cat vacuuming.

They forgot to draw the next to the last step: Going to the hospital for stitches.

Yesterday turned out to be personal grooming day. Dental check up and a hair cut. (But not at the same time.)

It was the dentist appointment that ended up causing problems. The dental hygenist who I had seen previously–and who I really liked–was gone. Hopefully she got another job or moved on to go to dental school or something good.

So I got a new technician, fresh out of school. Which didn’t bother me too much, since everyone has to start somewhere. What bothered me was the fact that the cleaning hurt. And my teeth and gums hurt for the rest of the day. (In fact, I think I have one or two bruises.)

The strange thing is that even thinking about calling the office to say something about the problem made me incredibly uncomfortable. I even briefly considered trying to find a new dentist rather than letting this hygenist near my mouth again. Which is stupid. I’m fine with the dentists at the office, but having to call to (essentially) complain about an employee seemed like an unreasonable thing to do. Even though my mouth hurt so much I didn’t care to eat anything but soup for lunch.

Because I didn’t want to be one of those whiny people that complain all the time. Because part of me felt that it must be my problem, not theirs. Why do I do this? Why does the thought of making a complaint when I am fully justified to do so make me so uncomfortable?

In the end I did call the office and requested that my next appointment be with a different hygenist. I explained that my mouth really hurt, and I really would prefer not to see that hygenist again. The receptionist was, of course, perfectly nice about the whole thing. And part of me knows that the only way the hygenist will get better is if people let her know she’s doing something wrong.

But another part of me still feels like I was being mean or cruel in making a complaint. Probably the part that remembers what it was like not to be able to find a job, and the fear I felt when I finally found a real job, that I’d do something stupid and get fired.

Joy! More flowers!

I thought that the red rose bush on the other side of the house would bloom first, but it was this one instead. The pink rose was supposed to be a climbing rose, but that seems not to be true.

I moved the miniature roses last fall, and was worried they’d not come back, but they’re doing well–better than where they were before.

Monkey prostitution
An economist, in conjunction with behaviorists, taught capuchin monkeys to use “money” to purchase food. And apparently, other things.
(via Iron Monkey)

Useful warning sign
Useful if you have a cat anyway.
(via erin)

Latest flower pr0n!

The coreopsis I planted last year, and forgot about. Only a single plant came up, and I’ve spent the past several weeks trying to figure out what it was I planted. The big, broadleafed plant behind the coreopsis is also going to be a surprise, assuming that it isn’t just squash that came up from the compost.

The Coral Bells are doing very well this year, with huge purple flowers. This evening the sun was just behind the plant as I was walking down the driveway, and I loved the way that the leaves glowed.

My new lemon thyme plant is flowering–I don’t remember last years plant flowering. I’m going to start a cutting from this one, and when it’s large enough, plant it and see if it survives the winter outside better than it did in my basement, because I really love this plant–the leaves, the smell, everything.

If it rains today, it’s my fault.

I just washed and waxed the car.