15sep2025

Ah linkies. Happy Monday everyone, it only took me two weeks to summon up the gumption to actually post this. Sheesh.

• How to stop a dog attack in three seconds or less seems to be the real deal, and as I have unfond memories of packs of dogs roaming my old neighborhood, a frequent enough issue I sometimes carried dog treats when I was out jogging, this grabbed my attention. (Also, I know many people are afraid of dogs, and it seems to me the best way to be unafraid of them is to know how to cope with one that attacks you.) This approach—grabbing the dog's collar and pulling back and up against the hinge of its jaw—strikes me as more effective (& way less dangerous) than ramming your fist down its throat, which is the (evidently wrong) urban legend/suburban myth.
• I had no idea people bought hermit crabs as pets. It's not a good idea unless you're willing to put serious aquarium-keeping-chops into the mix.
• My fave author, Lois McMaster Bujold, recommends Prof. Stephen Ressler’s new Great Course Understanding the Marvels of Medieval Technology with a “Aha. I have finished my first run-through, but definitely not the last...Best. Great Course. Ever.” —Quite the recce, there:)

Wishing you a delightful tail-end of summer.

1sep2025

Today is Labor Day (in the USA, at least...)

Labor, is this country, used to mean working 10 or 12 (or more hours) a day, in dangerous conditions that imperiled limbs, eroded health or even ended life; we owe those protestors a great deal for the 8 hour day, the 40 hour work week; I note the wikipedia page doesn't seem to go much into the costs paid by the protestors.

This page was inspired by a post by a Slate author bemoaning the loss of heaven, er, wishing she could unlearn the secet to Finland's happiness. Why? Because the state of happiness is so much more frictionless there. Here's the money quote heart of the article:

My life is pretty good, as lives go. I’ve been able to stay in the same rental apartment for three years, long by London standards. I have a job I like, a partner, friends, family, relatively good health. But I am also often tense and harried by a thousand little frictions that exist at home that just … don’t, in Finland. It can feel like life in the U.K., and as I understand it in the U.S. too, is overarched by the sense that, far from existing to support you, the state is out to punish you for any tiny infraction. Want to have a child? Pay most of your salary for their care. Need medical attention? Good luck. Can’t afford a home? Live on the street.

But I read this article several days ago; this page was inspired now by my own, personal frustration...

Among other things, one of the joys of living in Finland is everyone's proximity to forests, which provide a connection to contentment that's hard to describe, but nearly universal for anyone who camps regularly (& even for a lot of people who don't.) I was miserable and depressed when a proposed weeklong trip had to be cancelled, even though I was relieved as well, and so much more upbeat when we finally got to do a different camping getaway—complete with beaches, stars, sunrises and sunsets and—bonus!—trying new stuff, building on old skills, making friends, or at least acquaintance, even the unexpected langniappe of geeking out over art with other people.

Awesome. Even better, I get to do it again in a couple of weeks, if I can just get my aches and pains on board. So I made an appointment, went to PT, (eventually) downloaded the app for my home exercises, clicked on the video to review them....aaaaaaaaand fscking youtube refused to show it to me because I hadn't signed in, even though I have their stupid app on my phone, even though I was logged into the program with the exercises.

If ever there was a first world problem, this is it. I can circumvent this frustration, not to mention already having the resources to get care in the first place, since the US medical system strictly limits even physical therapy (never mind the other kinds) which is not something a lot of people can say. But it's a barrier to care, and a stupid one.

It is, in a word, yet one more niggling irritation of late stage capitalism.

Late stage capitalism is evil, I have concluded, because it seems inevitably to lead to fascism. This was driven home by Lindsey Ellis, who along with HBomberguy I consider to be the best youtube video essayist in the (English speaking, at least) world, returned to that loathed platform with an introductory plea for Miss Amy (Mr Roger's current incarnation, evidently), help for the children of Gaza in particular, and resistance to fascism in general.

She's not the first to note that a few people will be horror shows, a few can do no other than resist in any way possible, and the rest of us bystanders put our heads down, hoping not to be scythed by the creeping horror.

I've known for years that I'm part of that cowardly 75%.

But courage, like so many other things is a skill. It can be learned, and therefore practised. Toward the end of Ellis’ heartfelt video she notes those bystanders eventually have to make a stand: join the resisters, or...the perpetrators.

Both the Talmud and the Koran talk about saving a life as ‘saving the world entire.’

I think all of us can point to little ways in which we've made people's lives, tiny minuscule things that, added up, might, in some way, added years (or months or days or even greater meaning to some of those years or months or days) to others’ lives. I've alluded to a girl whom I gave five or ten minutes’ advice on how to get the most menial of entry level jobs; last summer, I might have ...actually saved someone's life. Maybe.

The water was barely 5’ deep, not even enough to completely cover his head. He was just practising his underwater breath. (But he had a heart condition.) All I did was stretch out a paddle for him to hold onto, and gently paddle back to shore. (So easy, and it had the added benefit of keeping me safe, too.)

I mean, maybe he wouldn't’ve drowned ; maybe those other swimmers would've noticed (though as far as I could tell, they didn't, and why would they, busy with their games with each other?) But. He did seem to be exhibiting the symptoms—he couldn't get enough air in his lungs to talk or cry out...I was deeply thankful that, at a kayaking conference a little while before, a teacher had described some drowning folks he'd helped rescue from a sinking rowboat—while sailing, actually. (My parents were sailors, and so was I, as a child. I still have a soft spot for sailboats;)

I didn't have to do anything drastic, like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation; I just stayed with him for awhile, then found his wife, who was swimming at the other end of the beach, and told her I thought her spouse had nearly drowned. I wasn't quite shaking with reaction, but I felt I'd done something all out of proportion to the gentle easy movements that were my contribution to this process.

On average, I can't say that I've done much for the world. Mostly, I'm just trying to get through my day, succeeding here, failing there, hoping I'll do better tomorrow.

I've tried to show a semblance of kindness, or at least be polite to those who come within my orbit, mostly because that's how I want to be treated myself, and I feel better if I do. I do my best to treat those closest to me—the wizard, the f2’s—with respect, even love, especially after reading that so many treat strangers with respect, but not their own families and I agreed, yes, that was gross. But that day, I felt I'd earned my existence.

Most of the time, my efforts are far more mundane. Frex, I post to this website in the hopes that someone, somewhere, finds some little bit of it useful, perhaps even inspirational.

Resisting fascism is scary, at least the bits that involve violence, which, once a fascist regime is in place, seem to be inevitable. I'm so timid... At the end of Ellis’ video, Mr Rogers says ‘there are so many ways you can be helpful...ways that don't hurt you or anybody else.’ That's doable, surely? My mother—the last of my household's parents (which, gulp, now makes me the senior, wise generation)—said she became convinced that, if nothing else, you could try to at least make the lives of people around you better and not worse. I can do that.

It's not much. It's not enough. But many days, it's all I have. This drawing is not that good. It's not exciting, it's certainly not groundbreaking. Many times, the frictions of our society means hours, days, even weeks go by in which no art gets made. The idea of dying by resisting fascists frightens me deeply, but courage can be practised, and making art...is one way for me to practise.

I can't offer much. Like the expert the author of the Finland happiness article consulted, like Lindsay Ellis, I believe much of our ills are structural, fomented by those at the very top. But I know we need to fight despair, to keep going.

So. One foot in front of another.

14aug2025

Hello all, another little watercolour sketch from a trip earlier this year, and to go with the feline subject matter, a link to a fascinating new mutation in cat coat genetics, a variant in which the fur is white tipped; not surprisingly, it's recessive, and particularly dramatic in black tuxedo cats, resulting in the term ‘salmiak’ —a type of salt covered black liquorice in Finland, where the mutation was discovered in feral cat populations about twenty years ago.

I knew of smoke, shaded, and chinchilla variations —black (or other colour) tipped white hairs, but this is the opposite.^[1] Pretty cool!

6aug2025

Trying to be upbeat here (and since f2tE just helped my organize the textile studio (what I called the sewing room for years, but now it's beadstringing too, and that makes me very happy;) I thought I'd talk about a fancy new mousetrap I got, and why its failure to catch any mice made me so pleased.

The teal deer on this one is, if your parents’ snaptraps are no longer doing it for you, either the commercial rinnetrap ‘flip and slide’ 5 gallon lid mousetrap, or its homemade equivalent is the way to go.

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Anyone who hunts around on youtube for very long about catching mice is gonna stumble across the ‘Mousetrap Monday’ guy, not to mention a lot of variations on homemade versions of mousetraps. After I had a mouse nearly run over my foot in the dining room on its way to that buffet of delights otherwise known as the kitchen, not to mention finding mouse turds on my counters —Ugh! I set out standard snap traps.

(I applaud all you folks willing to wild-trap your mice and drive them a mile away, it's my understanding that if you're dropping off a creature far enough away that it can't make its way back to you, that's roughly the equivalent of dropping me off in China, (or at least Europe) with no resources or knowledge whatsoever. If you've ever watched squirrels or birds drive their neighbors (let alone strangers) from their territories, then it's pretty clear to me that yes, the newcomer is just gonna get eaten by the next owl or possum to swing by. Snap traps, I figure, are less horrid than being stalked and crunched by a fox, and I know by observation their little corpses provide a delightful tidbit for all the critturs that visit my compost pile, because they're always gone by the following morning.

Problem was, at least one juvenile had been left behind, too light (or too clever) to trip the snap traps; so I made a spinning platform trap by threading an old mandrel through a piece of cardboard cut slightly smaller than the 5 gallon bucket opening on which it was rested. Typically you drill holes to thread the ‘axle’ of the platform, but I didn't want to weaken the rim of the bucket, so I just taped the mandrel in place. Balancing the cardboard platform was simply a matter of threading it thru various corrugations, testing it by resting it on the bucket rim; after several iterations, it balanced. (then I had to rebalance after baiting it.) You need to put in detents to get the thing to reset, and I recommend this fella's video if you'd like to make this trap.

The spinning platform caught one juvenile mouse, and the snaptraps, still set up, another. I wasn't seeing any fresh scat, but we didn't want to clean, put everything away, just to have it to do over again for missing a mouse or two—I'd actually given up on both traps by the time they caught these last two mice: usually I catch them the same day or day after (the parents) but it took three–five days for these others to get caught.

The homemade trap works well! But if you watch the commercial version in action it has some advantages, a) the mice can't explore the platform from the rim of the bucket, which is what they often like to do first; and b) the little cave over the platform also emboldens the mice. So, since we were in Menard's anyway, and they had the original Rinnetrap (not the Chinese knockoffs that don't work as well—you might as well make your own) for $20, I got it.

All told, it probably has a dollar's worth of plastic and cardboard packaging; but it's a well-designed dollar's worth of product and packaging, and besides $20 is nothing compared to the labor to clean all those drawers, and knowing the mice would get caught. After a week or more with no mice caught, I cleaned it up and reboxed it—the packaging will let you hang it on a hook in your garage if desired. (That said, the bright yellow colour and mouse head decoration are kinda ugly—I would've preferred a discreet all black or charcoal grey design—but let's face it, this is an American made product, and USians, for the most part, are deeply suspicious of elegantly designed products, especially inexpensive ones. They don't want to pay for handsome, even if it doesn't cost extra. Le sigh.)

So! As I did both, I can firmly say that, depending on your patience and cheapness, you can build the homemade version or buy this one. As the advertising says, it's pet safe (I could not have set snap traps if I were catsitting Cinder, but on the other hand, Cinder himself probably would've taken care of the problem; he loves hunting), catches multiple mice (unlike the toilet roll versions), is super easy to set up, and depending on whether you put water or sunflower seeds in the bottom of the bucket (you provide that yourself, by the way) you can either feed the local wildlife or set the mice free.

While I'm willing to do no more than grumble to anyone who will listen about rodents destroying my garden, once they cross the threshold into living areas, they're dead. But I'm thinking about setting this trap up in the garage this fall, & releasing the deer mice. (The invasives will continue to feed the raccoons I hear squalling in the middle of the night...)

Anyway, there you have it. Like the snow shovel I'm recommending the rinnetrap (or its homemade equivalent) because it works, and works well. Which, um, can't exactly be said about this overworked watercolour, but at least it's art.

1aug2025

We have a colour tinged racism (or at least, racism-adjacent) rant incoming, so if you wanna skip that, the teal dear deer is that the Technology Connections guy has a fun little video as to why you can't have brown lights. Oh, and today's page rounds out my series on daylilies with eyes.

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After the words for black and white (or light and dark) the next colour term in a language will be red; so I suppose it's not terribly surprising that we have a specific term for a tint of this colour, (i.e. white added) —pink. I read somewhere that of course until orange gets named, all sorts of warm hues get cached under this umbrella, which is why people with orange hair, and birds with orange breasts are historically referred to as ‘red’: once upon a time, they truly were. In a similar way, (green leafy) vegetables in Japan are called 青物—ao mono, or ‘blue stuff’ because until the word 緑 midori came along, 青/ao served for both blue and green.

But I never really considered the origins of two other common colour words in English after light/dark and the six primary & secondary colours (i.e. black, white, and in the pigment based system, red/yellow/blue and orange/green/purple respectively, which as a painter is the system I learned): grey and brown.

Grey is obvious: it's a mix of black and white. Pink I've mentioned. But what is brown?

Because when I do paint I do so with primarily with watercolours (& because I was taught that way) I typically don't use black to adjust hue (1) but rather a given hue's complement. So if I want brown, I could add green to red. However, oxides for browns are inexpensive, so I just buy them, as most painters do. But on those occasions when I did have to mix it, I used red and green (which in and of itself is a mix of yellow and blue). But with additive colour (red/green/blue—the sort of thing you see in an image editing program on your monitor) brown is orange with “black” added. At least according to the Technology Connections guy.

Actually, as it happens, sliding into black (which in additive colour is technically subtracting light) in the red zone also yields brown: and since red is the first named hue in language, it's not altogether surprising that we have specific terms for its tint, pink, and its shade (black added): brown.

No other colour (in English) has specific, simple monosyllabic terms for its tints or shades—the most common that come to mind are all named after things: mint, turquoise, lilac.(2) (I mean there are flowers called pinks, but unless you're a gardener, or even if you are, pink is the colour first, and Dianthus second.)

Where my mind went with this is that I've known (ever since I did a colour experiment where I was only allowed to add white or black to pure hues) that white people are actually orange. Well, now I've learned that brown people are orange too. We're all orange—which if I'd thought about it a hot minute, I would've immediately realized, because the thing that makes brown skin, black fur (or brown fur) is eumelanin, which is black (or dark brown) pigment, and, co-incidentally, a derivative of pheomelanin, which is...orange.

So there, racists who think white people are the be-all and end-all and best, which objectively we're not cuz we sunburn too easily...oh, never mind.

Anyway. Now you know why brown and pink (and orange) all mix so nicely:) And why the complementary(3) turquoise adds such a satisfying pop of colour to reddish orange-brown combos.

Anyway. Have a daylily with a super high tint of orange.

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(1)what in common parlance is called colour, which actually is made of hue, its particular chroma, value, its lightness or darkness, and intensity, which its purity.

(2)Also in the category of colours named after fruit, we have peach, which I'd argue only really became popular as a term specifically for a tint of orange (at least in mainstream American English—I have no idea about other countries’ versions) after Crayola rebranded it from ‘flesh’. And of course actual mammalian flesh, is, um, red. Thus my argument that white people really don't like to be called orange. They'd rather be called a synonym for meat—ugh!

(3)Complementary, in this context, means the hue across the colour wheel. Green is red's complement (& vice versa), blue is orange's—therefore green-blue is reddish-orange's.

31jul2025

If the five gallon bucket in my driveway is to be believed, we've received 6 inches of rain in the last 12 hours; certainly the basement has water backing up the drains and oozing through the less dense concrete, which says to me the ground is pretty waterlogged. Soft soil means pulling weeds is so much easier:) —Normally by the beginning of July, let alone its end, I'd be deep into watering, trying to keep everything alive through the dry months, so I'm deeply grateful I get to do the much preferred weeding—after all, weeds make free compost, but water costs money. All that rain also means that besides tons of ferns and lots of blooms, the frogs have made a reappearance after a three year hiatus.

Currently I mostly have phlox, black eyed susans (two cultivars, but mostly the now deprecated goldsturm: I just put up with the angular leaf spot this cultivar typically develops later in the season), lots and lots of Queen Anne's lace, which I know is an invasive, but it surely has been attracting swallowtails, with the tail end of the daylily season and some Joe Pye weed; in back, astilbes. IOW, pretty but not especially showy, and since I've only got the one page on Storm Shelter, I thought I'd make another of this rather dramatic flower.

Enjoy.