Peanut Brain stops by for a chat.
The squirrel is more interested in me and the possbility of cadging some peanuts than in the possible danger posed by the two mighty huntresses. However, even the birds don’t take Kaylee and Koshka very seriously.
The critters around here are out to get me today.
I just get out of bed and look out on the balcony. Peanut Brain has dug up every single flower pot; the morning glories are big enough to survive, but everything else is probably dead.
Then, I go into the computer room. My monitor was… missing.
Actually, someone (I suspect Koshka) had knocked it off the desk. The desk is a corner desk with a gap down the back where it fits up against the wall. The monitor is just top-heavy enough that a small animal can topple it over.
Fortunately, I keep all the boxes that my assorted peripherals came in and have stowed them under the desk in that gap on the floor. The monitor landed face first on a largish box and was undamaged. Getting the monitor back onto the desk was more exercise than I was prepared for at this hour of the day, however.
The day can only get better from here.
If you can, go adopt a pet. If you can’t, at least visit a shelter and make a donation.
Concerts merge live, Internet and virtual world - CNN.com
Well, I dunno — I’ve been attending live concerts in Second Life for months now — and CNN is finally latching on to the fact? The region where I rent, DarkStar, has it’s own house band, two venues for live music, a radio station venue, and a dance hall that plays streaming Grateful Dead and Phish concert recordings. We have several musicians in residence as well as artists in other media.
Second Life is a great venue for small-time musicians: They can be heard by an audience that spans the globe, in real time. Back in the day, garage bands never had it so good, even with the occasional technical hiccup.
Mother Jones Online makes me think and frequently makes me laugh. Their article, “Even Better Than The Real Thing,” does both.
Why do people get hooked on their virtual lives? Because of my medical issues, I’m more or less house-bound. However, I know I can do things in Second Life that I can’t in Real Life: I’m nesting, building and furnishing a virtual house on virtual land which I’m leasing, on a virtual island that is the ultimate aging hippy’s daydream. I can even make a buck doing art: I “sold” one of my 3d graphics images to a friend, and have been told I should post them in a gallery, and take in some real money. (I’m of two minds on that.)
My therapist tells me that this is a good thing; I’m connecting to other people and exploring outside the confines of my apartment.
I wonder, though, if or when I’ll cross the line…
Bryan posted this tail of woe Last week, and now I have one of my own.
Granted, I’m not a spotless housekeeper, and subscribe to the Pilot method of document control, but the Krowd has way too much fun in the computer room.
Kaylee’s Krowd bellies up to the bar for their morning libations. Apparently, there’s not enough room under the bed for them any more.
I certainly wish Momcat would find another spot for the kids; having the tots running in and out from under the bed has been particularly hazardous for all of us lately. I’ve had a wicked case of the flu this week, and have not had the luxury, sometimes, of being able to watch where I’m going in the middle of the night. There have been no injuries so far, but at least a couple of close calls.
I think Don Imus is a dolt.
On the other hand, I’ve always thought Don Imus was a dolt — way before this whole flap started — and I think the same about most talk radio hosts. Even Air America Radio makes me cringe, and you can’t get much more liberal than AAR. It wouldn’t make me the least bit unhappy to see them all go away; DJ’s are the principle reason that I don’t listen to the radio, either talk, news or music. Give a guy a microphone, and he begins to think that everyone is entitled to HIS opinion.
HOWever… I have a question.
I realize that there is a dearth of Black, Hispanic or Asian talk radio hosts with huge audiences out there, but what if, say, Al Sharpton started making unfunny jokes about white girls? (Ghods forbid!) Do you think he’d be fired from his show? Would there be an out-pouring of outrage and hate mail? Or, would he be given a pass because of his race?
(I have been told — in no uncertain terms, by a minority person — that minority people cannot be racist regardless of their opinions, and that white people deserve to be disrespected. Um, I dunno, me.)
So, if Al Sharpton is entitled to his opinion by the rules of Free Speech, shouldn’t Don Imus?
Just sayin’…
All righty, then! Time for some kitten pictures.
One of Kaylee’s teats must give chocolate milk or something, because a tussle broke out when all the kids decided to go after the same one. Mom sorted them out in rapid order; they’ll just have to take turns.
I feel as if I had given birth to those kittens, myself: My joints are crunchy by nature; I’m as stiff as a board now from getting down on my hands and knees, and crawling around on the floor most of the day.
Still no pictures. Apart from not wanting to freak Kaylee out any more than she already is, she has the babies stowed in a place where it’s impossible to get a camera. There will be photos when the kittens are more mobile.
Oh, yeah. She’s already moved the kits out of the birthing box. She has suddenly developed a bad case of separation anxiety and needs to be within touching distance of me at all times. I tried sleeping on the floor outside the closet for a while last night to reassure her, but those crunchy knees would not allow it, and I moved to my own bed. When it became apparent that I was not coming back to the hall at 2 o’clock in the morning, Kaylee moved the kittens into the bedroom, under the foot of my bed. I pushed some towels under there to keep the babies from crawling away where I couldn’t reach them, but otherwise I’ll just leave them alone.
Other than the separation anxiety (which will probably fade over time), Kaylee seems to be doing well, herself. She’s in extreme nuzzle mode, and has been eating heartily: Half a cup of kibble and a whole can of wet food has disappeared in the last day, and I don’t think the Professor has been eating it.
