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breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

"Congratulations!" said James.

I was laying on the couch reading and idily poking the sore bits of my mouth (had a number of fillings done today, and the dentist believes in a Lot Of Novocaine, so I was numb for hours, and now bits of my jaw ache, a sensation I oughta be used to by now.)

"The what now?"

"Congratulations on being one of the best webcomics of 2004."

"Huh? Says who?"

"Webcomics Examiner. You're on their Best of 2004 list."

Baffled--I hadn't gotten an e-mail--I poked at the computer for a bit, chased the appropriate link in Metafilter, and hey! Whadaya know! I am!

Well, I feel all warm and fuzzy.

http://webcomicsreview.com/examiner/issue041213/top2004.html

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

“Congratulations!” said James.

I was laying on the couch reading and idily poking the sore bits of my mouth (had a number of fillings done today, and the dentist believes in a Lot Of Novocaine, so I was numb for hours, and now bits of my jaw ache, a sensation I oughta be used to by now.)

“The what now?”

“Congratulations on being one of the best webcomics of 2004.”

“Huh? Says who?”

“Webcomics Examiner. You’re on their Best of 2004 list.”

Baffled–I hadn’t gotten an e-mail–I poked at the computer for a bit, chased the appropriate link in Metafilter, and hey! Whadaya know! I am!

Well, I feel all warm and fuzzy.

http://webcomicsreview.com/examiner/issue041213/top2004.html

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Well, I'll be jiggered.

For months, nothing really exciting on the bird front--the slate-sided juncoes returning was the only recent highlight, and it's just been the same usual visitors, and I've been sufficiently busy that I hadn't commented too much. And just now, I look out the window, and there's a bloody huge woodpecker on the suet with a yellow herringbone back, teeny red band on the back of his (or her?) neck, and long black beak.

It is, in short, a Northern Flicker of the yellow-shafted eastern variety. They're not a uncommon bird, but I've never had one at my feeder before.

Cool.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Well, I’ll be jiggered.

For months, nothing really exciting on the bird front–the slate-sided juncoes returning was the only recent highlight, and it’s just been the same usual visitors, and I’ve been sufficiently busy that I hadn’t commented too much. And just now, I look out the window, and there’s a bloody huge woodpecker on the suet with a yellow herringbone back, teeny red band on the back of his (or her?) neck, and long black beak.

It is, in short, a Northern Flicker of the yellow-shafted eastern variety. They’re not a uncommon bird, but I’ve never had one at my feeder before.

Cool.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

I have been laying down the inital passes to make concrete for another Gearworld painting--this time an ambitious 24 x 36, the size of the Twigjack or the Cardinals--and my hands have acquired the living-dead look that can best be achieved by layered Paynes Gray in successive washes, scrubbing about half of it off with soapy water, and then deciding it doesn't friggin' matter, I'm gonna do it all again ANYWAY, and repeating the process with raw umber. My nails and cuticles and all the little lines in my knuckles are sharply delineated, the line-drawing anatomy-study-in-ballpoint-pen kind of look.

I have Earl Grey tea with sourwood honey, and a slice of cheesecake sitting innocently in the fridge, awaiting me.

The cat is asleep on James's chair, a foot away, curled into a neat donut, like an ermine hemerrhoid pillow (and presumably of similiar odor, although I'm not going to snort cat fur just to check the accuracy of my bad similes.)

The vast majority of my Christmas shopping is done. The art gifts aren't, but my friends are a largely agnostic and irreligious bunch, and probably won't much care as long as they show up before July.

It's cold out and warm in here.

And y'know, life is pretty good.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

I have been laying down the inital passes to make concrete for another Gearworld painting–this time an ambitious 24 x 36, the size of the Twigjack or the Cardinals–and my hands have acquired the living-dead look that can best be achieved by layered Paynes Gray in successive washes, scrubbing about half of it off with soapy water, and then deciding it doesn’t friggin’ matter, I’m gonna do it all again ANYWAY, and repeating the process with raw umber. My nails and cuticles and all the little lines in my knuckles are sharply delineated, the line-drawing anatomy-study-in-ballpoint-pen kind of look.

I have Earl Grey tea with sourwood honey, and a slice of cheesecake sitting innocently in the fridge, awaiting me.

The cat is asleep on James’s chair, a foot away, curled into a neat donut, like an ermine hemerrhoid pillow (and presumably of similiar odor, although I’m not going to snort cat fur just to check the accuracy of my bad similes.)

The vast majority of my Christmas shopping is done. The art gifts aren’t, but my friends are a largely agnostic and irreligious bunch, and probably won’t much care as long as they show up before July.

It’s cold out and warm in here.

And y’know, life is pretty good.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.