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A series of mostly unrelated thingies

My buddy Carlota brought me wombat earrings from Australia. Glee!

I've decided it isn't Friday. Some rogue chronovore ate a few of my days. There's no other explanation. I understand that some people are grateful for it being Friday, and proving that I'm not completely unreasonable, I am willing to compromise and allow it to be Wednesday. Friday, however, is completely unacceptable.

The squirmy baby birds are still squirmy, but the darkness of the nest does not permit me to get photos at this time, (or even count them accurately) and I don't wanna use the flash and scare the bejeezus out've 'em. I'm waiting for a really bright day, and I'll use the tripod and see what I can do.

I finally got a good composition--I hope--for the lemonlopes. It turned out I was wrong all along--they weren't pronghorns, they were oryx. That must have been why I couldn't get 'em to settle. We'll see how it goes, though--composition, as those blasted Radishes of Paradise taught me, is not the only hurdle.

The night sounds here are out of control. Seriously, out of control. Thousands of bugs. Hundreds of frogs. Other things that I don't know what they are--bugs, birds, frogs, no clue--and so have concluded that they are obviously the rare North American Lesser Bunyip, which appear to have a breeding ground behind the house. Unbelievably loud. I spent an hour the other night convinced that the other resident of the duplex was having wild sex of some variety, only to realize that the thing sounding exactly like creaky bedsprings was some variety of native fauna. More than anything else, it's like one of those New Age relaxation tapes--"The Soothing Symphony of Nature's Nightsong" or something--turned up to deafening volume. My opinion on this varies between "That's kinda cool. Go, nature!" and "Jesus H. Christ, I need better soundproofing."

There are two physical paintings I want to do, and an uncountable number of digital pieces that I really, really should be working on. I am back to scuttling between studio and computer, alternating pixels and paint. And yet, I am confident I'll get it all done. Not due to good scheduling, not due to any great skill, but simply because I always get it all done. Predictability isn't nearly as good as ability, but sometimes it comes in handy.

And that's the state of the Ursula today.

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Have you painted Zen monk oranges yet, as part of the fruit series?

Cause, you know, they'd be navels of contemplation and all.

Chronovore. That is just the coolest word ever.

Hi, you don't know me, but I'm a huge fan of your artwork, and I've added you to my friends list. You won't notice me really, I'll be standing over there ---> in the corner. Mostly thank you for the great art and all the amusing comments that go with it!

Ah, over the corner with me, eh? We have excellent cheese on sticks you know...

Cheese on sticks! Dude!

Ever since I left Minnesota, damned if I can find deep fried cheesecurds, on or off the stick...

I don't know about Minnesota, but after having lived in Wisconsin I'm going through withdrawals here in Texas for lack of a bag of good cheese curds. Nobody even knows what a cheese curd IS, let alone have they experienced the joy that is squeaky bits of cheese.

I like my food to talk back to me when I chew it. Makes the meal more interactive. *winks*

And watching the cheese factory guys toss in POUNDS of salt in the big cheese curd bins is fascinating, even though I can FEEL my arteries clogging.

cheese...curds? I'm guessing that this is not the same thing as mozzerella sticks or something of the kind?

I'm suffering flashes of Little Miss Muffet, but I suspect that's not it either, huh?

Ah, you poor, poor curdless soul.

Cheese curds come in orange and white flavors. (Don't argue with me the logistics of colorful flavors, I am explaining to you the wonders of cheese).

They are generally sold in fist-sized baggies. Each curd is approximately the size of one of those small wonder bouncy balls, only they are all misshappen and akward. Because of....the magic of cheese curds, when you bite into a fresh curd, the cheese squeaks appealingly against your teeth.

'Fresh' mind you. Whatever magic causes the squeaking apparantly dies after the curds are more than a day or so old. Though you can refresh the squeakage through use of the microwave, that is an artificial solution and no self-respecting cheese-lover would dare attempt it.

Unless of course the only cheese curds you get are sent to you through the mail from your Wisconsinite family. At which point you close all the windows and draw the drapes to ensure privacy before daring to put the mighty cheese curd in the microwave.

I...see. This particular..erm, delicacy...does not seem to be prevalent here in New England.

Excuse me while I debate with myself whether this is a blessing or a curse...

It's a curse, the cheesecurds seemed to have missed you because here, further up the coast(n.s. Canada) we have cheese curds in plentiful supply. Cheese curds are incredibly delicious, especially when eaten alongside a green apple or a flavoured yogurt.
However the best way of ALL time to consume the cheese curds is in poutine. Oh, lawrdy lawrdy, it is devine and if your arteries don't scream from the curds alone imagine them on fries with gravy *drool*. Poutine is God.

Cheese curds and gravy over fries? Now THAT is a delicacy I shall have to try next time I am curded. (*thinks a moment* I'm not sure what the exact term for "being with curd" is, but I imagine "curded" will do as well as any other)

Hmm. I've got a sudden recollection of George Hamilton (as the most tanned Dracula ever) shouting, "Children of the night... SHUT UP!"

Wombat earrings, or wombat dung earrings? ;)

Wombat earrings. I am just not cool enough for wombat poo accessories.

Silly me! If I had realized you wanted wombat POO, I could have asked the zoo outside of Cairnes while I was there. I'm sure they had plenty to share:)

I could still call them if you really want. Granted, I do have pictures of wombats in the zoopens, maybe a picture of wombat poo will suffice? ;)


(PS - gotta love Australia petting zoos. The sign said "wombats bite - do not put hand in pen," yet an invitingly open pen for petting. God, I love countries that assume the individual is responsible for getting his own hand bitten off...)

When we dug out a pond in my father's backyard, the local amphibians decided they all had to check out the new watering hole.

There's nothing quite like the sounds of a frog orgy in the middle of the night.

The neighbours complained.

(After about two years the glamour of the new place wore off and it got a lot quieter.)

I just saw your "Donkey and the Goldfish" and thought "That is one really big blanket..." I have a blanket that is almost exactly like those rocks (yay for quilting stores) so I was a little confused until I read the comments...oops! Really great job on them.

I've decided it isn't Friday. Some rogue chronovore ate a few of my days. There's no other explanation. I understand that some people are grateful for it being Friday, and proving that I'm not completely unreasonable, I am willing to compromise and allow it to be Wednesday. Friday, however, is completely unacceptable.

Oh - good. So it wasn't just me, then. I was driving to work today going, "Today iiis... ...Friiday... ..no.. it doesn't feel like Friday. So what day is it? Wens? Hmm... crap, I'll bet it's Friday..."

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