Social networking

You know what I'm talking about when I discreetly allude to a widely used social networking site. Some have called it "Crack Book" for the reason it can be very addictive. Going there can be like stepping into a black hole. Black holes are notoriously difficult to back away from, and when you emerge from them, you never know what time it is.


Black holes also have their own rules of etiquette which can seem like veritable minefields to the uninitiated. For instance: what to do about the person who wants to be your friend, but you can't quite remember how you know them (you suspect they are really just trying to pad their numbers); is there an acceptable way to dump someone off your list of friends (it has become awkward reading their updates since you haven't actually been in the same hemisphere as each other for twenty years and you now feel you know more about them than you should, considering you wouldn't recognize them on the street)...just to name two mildly pickley scenarios.


I have more than one 'friend' of whom I know more about through social networking than I do from actual life. For instance, there's the guy from Wales who loves rugby more than football, and has developed a fondness for online poker. His friend Davey likes curry and Dido, but we weren't supposed to know that, only Wales guy posted it on the wall. Oops. Wales guy is no longer on my list. There's the guy I've known forever, but the Crack Book version of him is not someone I ever knew. I'd normally delete him, but sentiment, nostalgia... maybe even guilt? are keeping me from clicking on that 'x'. I figure the side he's shown me all along is also him, and that's the friend I'm holding on to.

This topic came to mind last night while I was chatting with yet another friend online. We share an interest in music and movies, and we both had similar vagabond upbringings, but that's pretty much the extent of our connection. The conversation was engrossing - I enjoy talking over someone's taste in music, and discovering what they thought about the latest something or other movie (catch that quote?) but at the same time, it was a little surreal to suddenly be in the middle of a conversation with someone a province away.

I remind myself that not every contact I have in real life is full of deep significance either, but I don't cut those people out of my life, so perhaps I ought to cut my Crack Book 'friends' some slack too. Perhaps the forced superficiality of some of those relationships keeps me from taking myself too seriously? That can't be a bad thing, and maybe that's the great benefit of social networking: it's not connection so much as correction.

Felicity and the cats (intro)

Felicity was afraid of cats. And yet here she was, once again, in a room dominated by three bossy Siamese and one cranky old tabby tom. The cats belonged to Aunt Ruthie, but Aunt Ruthie was off on one of her adventures: trekking the Outback or mapping the ocean floor or similar. Ruth got to have fun in the sun, while Felicity got finicky felines, allergies, and dreams about suffocation and glowing eyes in the dark.

Every two years or so, Felicity would be recruited to watch over the abhorrent shedders for a month. They weren’t particularly needy or tedious in their daily regimen: water and food daily really. Mrs. Culpepper came twice a week to clean, and she took care of the kitty facilities along with the usual housekeeping chores of dust elimination and pillow fluffing. Pillow duty wouldn’t normally be an arduous task, but Ruth Alexander was not a normal sort of woman, nor did she keep a normal sort of house.

For a woman with such free-spirited and adrenaline-based inclinations in holidays, Aunt Ruthie lived in a surprisingly traditional, almost fussy home. This living room, for instance, bore the evidence of an explosion of chintz and florals in bold patterns on the overstuffed sofa and wallpaper. The windows were veiled in lace sheers and swathed in paisley poufs, admitting a controlled amount of sunlight while deflecting the curious eyes of passers-by. At night, Ruthie would pull across the matching chintz drapes, completing the illusion of being submerged in a surrealist’s interpretation of an English garden while on hallucinogenic drugs. Lace doilies were in evidence on some surfaces, a dog in china painted blue and white sat proudly and domineeringly on the mantel; a treasured Doulton Old Country Roses tea service could be seen in the breakfront – but never on the table for Ruth used a more prosaic set of ironstone mugs for her morning tea.

Mad chintz and scary cats aside, Felicity always enjoyed the time she spent at Ruthie’s, whether alone or with her beloved Aunt. The two were a comfortable pair – opinions about cats notwithstanding – believing in the need for sparkle in a woman’s life, whether in jewellery, ocean views, or fully-lived moments and no regrets. While the elder Alexander chose to physically explore her place in the universe, the younger had always chosen a more cerebral approach to discovery, preferring to read the accounts of other people coming into contact with exotic bugs and strange dietary customs from the comfort of her own home. When Ruth returned from exotic places afar to her chintz and her cats, she had tea with the ladies of the local historical society and cross stitched samplers for church bazaars, while Felicity would partake in an afternoon of geo caching, rock climbing, or off-road cycling.

Good day

Today is a good day. The sky is heavy and overcast, there has been thunder, we've had Mancunian rain, and the nephews are wound tighter than springs...but it's been a good day. Take a look at these faces:

Those would be the brave and victorious boys in red, The Best Team Ever, Manchester United, lifting the Premier League Trophy for the third year in a row (the second time they've won three years in a row) and for a record 11th time (since the top flight has been called the EPL).

This is a great picture as it shows my three favourite players. Holding the trophy is Ryan Giggs. He is the leaven of this team, showing the young whippersnappers how to conduct themselves on and off the pitch as gentlemen. On our left is Nemanja Vidic: fearless and totally dedicated Serbian international who doesn't seem to think he's doing his job unless he's got cuts and bruises or a concussion or two. On the right is Rio Ferdinand, a composed, steady presence on the team, and sometime captain. Ferdinand alongside Vidic in defence is almost impenetrable. Giggs makes a good pairing with Cristiano Ronaldo, and my hope is that Ronaldo will model himself on the older man; he can't go wrong if he chooses that path.

There is still one game left in the season, but the way the math worked out, United only needed one tie from their last two games in order to take the trophy. And such they did today at Old Trafford against Arsenal. I guess the EPL was prepared for that outcome, as the presentation took place today immediately following the game. That means everyone can relax and enjoy the very last game of the 2008-09 season before crying in their beer that it's all over for another year.

Today's game wasn't exactly brilliant. It was fast-paced -- neither side was going to concede points to the other. The atmosphere was fantastic with over 75,000 people in the stands. I understand why people sometimes say this is a boring game: if today you hadn't been emotionally invested in either team or the outcome, it wouldn't have been all that interesting as the scoreboard remained the same from beginning to end. It was an exciting game nonetheless because neither team was willing to give up, give in, or give over. It may not have been glorious or particularly beautiful football, but it was the game that engraved the name of Manchester United on the Premiership trophy.

United will defend their Champions League title against Barcelona in Rome on May 27. I have this cough developing...I think it's going to be something very serious in just over a week's time which may cause me having to stay home from work...what with swine flu and all. If I happen to be home that day, I just might check in on the game once or twice. For moral support, you understand.

Movie magic

Remember the days of VHS? It was a bore to have to rewind the tape, and if you wanted a bit somewhere in the middle...forget it. DVDs have been a wonderful advancement in so many ways - chapter selections being one of them. I also enjoy the 'making of' featurettes, and sometimes the movie with commentary can be very insightful. If you have any interest in learning how movie magic happens, a good commentary is the place to begin.

Watching a movie with the commentary can present as many questions as it answers, however. For instance, I recently watched Catch and release that way, with the Director and DP's commentary. More than once throughout they pointed out scenes where a double was used in place of Jennifer Garner. Not unusual, you're thinking to yourself; what is Tess going on about now? You are right, dear reader. We know that doubles are often used, for body parts (Julia Roberts in Pretty woman) or for dangerous or difficult sequences (Bruce Willis in Live free or die hard). Natural and understandable. Studios pay their star talent a great deal of money. I know many stars are forbidden to ride motorcycles or go hang gliding etc. when under contract for a movie. The bank accounts of many people rely on them being in one piece and able to complete their role.

What struck me as being a little bit absurd though, is that three of those instances of a double being used for Jennifer were walking scenes. Walking! When she walked away from the camera, they tended to use a double. Did test audiences object to the way her behind moved? Could she not handle the danger of walking down an ordinary paved street? Keep in mind that Garner is trained in martial arts as well as dance, and rose to fame as Agent Sydney Bristow on Alias - known for its action sequences. Apparently a competent kickboxer cannot safely collapse into bed from a standing position either, cause they used a double for that scene, too.

Interesting.

Darned furballs

Those pesky chipmunks have been digging again. This time the planter (the one with the mini tree, and the daisies all around) has the Chunnel dug almost all the way through from one side of the tree to the other. Yet another bucket full of soil gone into setting it to rights.

I know people are going to be upset with me, cause it's just God's cute little creature -- Chip and Dale afterall -- doing what it's supposed to be doing. I have no problem with the stupid thing getting on with it's genetically necessary work, however, there is a big wide world out there, it certainly need not dig up my poor plants and make a mess of the front porch each and every day! So there!

However, I have discovered the names of the growing things we bought yesterday: Gloria mix (Celosia); Chocolate chip carpet bugle (Ajuga reptans 'Valfredda'); Red dragon's blood stonecrop (Sedum spurium red form); Biokovo dwarf cranesbill (Geranium X cantabrigiense 'Biokovo')

There is good news: the bush/shrub (shrush) is getting wee little flower buds on it, and I'm sure that where we pruned yesterday already has new growth on it. This is very exciting!

I am gardener, hear me roar

However it happened, I am now enthusiastic about growing things. We went to a garden centre this afternoon, and I cannot begin to convey how happy I was. It wasn't a giddy, excited sort of feeling, but one of content well-being. We browsed in the best window-shopping fashion, admiring and praising how pretty everything was.

Four little plants came home with us, perched very precariously in the bottom of the stroller as we walked back, talking about where to plant them. (Please note the significance of that phrase: plant them. This was meant to be a container gardening experiment to determine how capable and committed we were going to be to the endeavor. Now we're putting things in the ground, discussing shade levels and watering requirements. Uh oh.)

Enthusiastic I might now be, ignorant I still remain. I should have gone back out before I wrote this to note the names of what we got, but I didn't and am now in my jammies so it's too late. I'll do the best I can. One of them is a Red Dragon's Blood something or other, bought for the boys. They think the name is pretty cool. The leaves have the look of a succulent about them. I can't wait for it to fill out and flower. I picked out a Chocolate Chip something. Who could resist that? It's a low, spreading plant which will get pretty little blue flowers on it. The ones I really love are the Glory. Eight little flowers came as a set, red, orange, yellow, and a creamy white. The colours are very saturated, and the flowers are fuzzy-looking. Very pretty! I hope they take ok and will grow well. We also bought another creeper...a something or other I don't remember.

It's amazing: today a shrub (or is it a bush? I'm not sure I know the difference) was pruned, and it looks great. A flower bed was dug around the base of a tree, and a lovely pink rock was placed just so, to offset the Glories. The unknown creeper is in that bed as well.

I'm sure none of that is of particular interest to anyone out there, but this is very exciting to me. I never in a million years would have thought I'd enjoy spending time in a garden centre, and actually want to attempt growing things. Huh. Here's the beef: squirrels are cheeky buggers, and pesty creatures! They are digging holes in the containers we have outside and are hiding their peanuts among our plants! Some mad woman in the neighbourhood walks the paths with a pouch of nuts and tosses them around to feed the bushy-tailed nuisances. How annoying! Drop all the peanuts you want in your own yard, lady! Some people are trying to garden around here!

Neighbourly

Crazy Car Lady. Her name might be Roberta or Sonia. I call her Crazy Car Lady. CCL...Cecilia? Nah...Crazy Car Lady she is. She lives across the street and one house over. Not being directly facing her means we can spy on her more overtly. Ahem...what I mean to say is: when we happen to look out the window in her general direction, it does not appear to be intentional.

She showed up in the neighbourhood a little while ago. It was when the snow was clearing so that ground showed and people took to the out of doors that we began to notice her. And her car. It is not a remarkable car. A nice Bugatti or Lamborghini would explain her behaviour somewhat, but her little Japanese sedan makes her actions blog-worthy.

The first couple of times we thought she was scoping out the street as a potential homeowner. Throughout the course of the day we'd notice her car parked on the road in various places. Sometimes with her in it. Just sitting in it. Sometimes we'd spot her walking around the car. Then get back in it. Then we'd loose track of her. The car would frequently move. Then we realized she belonged to that house because we'd see her drive her car up and down her short suburban driveway then enter the house. She comes out of her house, looks at her car, then goes back inside. Sometimes she sits in the car or moves it from the driveway to the street.

Today, the other car belonging to that house was parked in the drive. We saw Mr. Crazy Car Lady come out of the house, and move his car onto the street. He went back inside. About 20 minutes later, she came home, drove right to the top of the driveway - practically bumping the garage. She sat for a minute or two, then moved the car back about 1/3 the length of the drive. As she sat there, he came out of the house, locked the front door, got in his vehicle and reversed it to the opposite side of their driveway and sat. She got out of her car, walked around it, unlocked her front door and went in. He drove away.

I have no idea what is going on but it is vastly amusing. Many neighbours are uninteresting and predictable. Our neighbours are anything but.