Ever ask yourself that question as some coincidence crosses your path, and you just find something very difficult to believe is little more than such a coincidence?
I frequent the Internet Movie DataBase quite a lot. As someone who was involved with the entertainment industry, it has proved its worth to me time and time again, and I have been quite happy to have such a reference available.
I was over at IMDB this evening looking up on one of my favorite guys, William Gaunt, and accessing the new IMDB Pro, a premium area that I just recently joined. The new area includes the titles available on DVD that are for purchasing, and I was making notes of what I could buy. One of the titles was called "La Femme Musketeer" and I looked it up, and it mentioned the director was this stuntman turned director named Steve Boyum.
Flash ahead about 1/2 hour later, and I'm getting ready to watch the episode of Numb3rs which was on this past Friday. I am watching it as the credits go by, and usually the last credit before the credits go off is the Directed By credit, and my jaw drops lower than the floor when I see "Directed By Steve Boyum"! Okay, I've never seen this guy's name before, at least not consciously, and even if I had, what are the chances that I should see his name twice, on different projects just minutes in between?
Another time something like this happened, Steve and I were in the car, and I was telling him about this new book I'm reading, and how the bad guy is someone named Dr. John Dee. It's a fantasy trilogy about Nicholas Flamel and his antagonist, John Dee. Well, just minutes later, we go by a street named, I kid you not, John Dee Road! This had been the first time I ever mentioned the series to Steve, as I was reading the first book in the series at that time.
It could be read as a mere coincidence, or serendipity, but heck, I'd understand if it happened days, or ever hours apart, but not in those contexts, not in the way these kinds of things present themselves!
Anyhow, I'm flabbergasted, and have decided that something, somewhere exists that makes these kinds of events happen for some reason, though what that reason is, I can't even begin to understand.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I'm ready to commit felinicide!
To the uninitiated, which is just about everyone, since I think I made up that word, that means one of my cats is about ready to die a horrible death!! :D
Oliver and I have had a lot of disagreements about what is and isn't permissible in my household. It's one of those many trials that all people owned by cats must go through, simply because they can wait us out almost every time. Or perhaps it's just that after awhile, admitting that you had a staring contest, or other test of will against a cat, with them, and they won, is sort of like talking about fight club.
Oliver, for instance, wants to be let out. He has escaped a couple of times, but I was appeasing him for awhile by letting him go down the back steps, but that ended when my neighbor let him into his place for a few moments, and Oliver returned with the worst kind of uninvited guests--fleas. Since then, I've been battling those little bastards non-stop, with all three of the "youngsters" and myself having allergic reactions to them. As a result of the resolution of THAT argument, Oliver has been content (yeah, right) to "sniffing" outside air through one of the bedroom windows, where a small hole was created next to the air conditioner in the window. He takes deep breaths from this hole, I'm sure partially to elicit a big "Awwww" from me, feeling sorry for him that he can't go outdoors.
Well, that hole in the window has become the next Waterloo. It's already gotten quite cold around here, and I have had to cover the windows in the bedroom with plastic, to try to keep myself from being too cold, and to help to keep the oil heating bill to a level where I can still heat the house over the winter, and eat. Well. Oliver discovered that shredding plastic is something he does quite well. The area of the plastic over his "air hole" was almost immediate! And then he widened the hole. And then I got cold again, and fought back, taking a piece of heavier plastic in the form of a trash bag and covered the hole in the original plastic, and denying Oliver his precious cold air in the process.
Well, Oliver got back at me, and decided to try a different tact. He shredded the plastic on the OTHER window instead, and now I have to go and put more plastic over that hole, and I can't use the trash bags to cover that hole, because it's the only other source of light that comes into the bedroom. So I have to go with the sheer plastic again, and our battle will likely be continued over the next couple of days until he decides that I have more resources than he does to combat the situation and he gives up.
I know it's not entirely fair, but I'm the human here! Oliver will (hopefully) give up and we can all spend our fierce winter in relative comfort, or at least not wishing we were dead in the middle of a blizzard with temperatures at 20 below zero. Come spring, I might be able to accommodate his wildness by setting up the wire cage on the very small outdoor porch and letting him stay out there for part of the day. But that is still (than goodness!) about 5 months away, and I don't have to think about it until then.
But I'm telling you--any more shredded window plastic, and I might as well strangle him if I get any colder!
Oliver and I have had a lot of disagreements about what is and isn't permissible in my household. It's one of those many trials that all people owned by cats must go through, simply because they can wait us out almost every time. Or perhaps it's just that after awhile, admitting that you had a staring contest, or other test of will against a cat, with them, and they won, is sort of like talking about fight club.
Oliver, for instance, wants to be let out. He has escaped a couple of times, but I was appeasing him for awhile by letting him go down the back steps, but that ended when my neighbor let him into his place for a few moments, and Oliver returned with the worst kind of uninvited guests--fleas. Since then, I've been battling those little bastards non-stop, with all three of the "youngsters" and myself having allergic reactions to them. As a result of the resolution of THAT argument, Oliver has been content (yeah, right) to "sniffing" outside air through one of the bedroom windows, where a small hole was created next to the air conditioner in the window. He takes deep breaths from this hole, I'm sure partially to elicit a big "Awwww" from me, feeling sorry for him that he can't go outdoors.
Well, that hole in the window has become the next Waterloo. It's already gotten quite cold around here, and I have had to cover the windows in the bedroom with plastic, to try to keep myself from being too cold, and to help to keep the oil heating bill to a level where I can still heat the house over the winter, and eat. Well. Oliver discovered that shredding plastic is something he does quite well. The area of the plastic over his "air hole" was almost immediate! And then he widened the hole. And then I got cold again, and fought back, taking a piece of heavier plastic in the form of a trash bag and covered the hole in the original plastic, and denying Oliver his precious cold air in the process.
Well, Oliver got back at me, and decided to try a different tact. He shredded the plastic on the OTHER window instead, and now I have to go and put more plastic over that hole, and I can't use the trash bags to cover that hole, because it's the only other source of light that comes into the bedroom. So I have to go with the sheer plastic again, and our battle will likely be continued over the next couple of days until he decides that I have more resources than he does to combat the situation and he gives up.
I know it's not entirely fair, but I'm the human here! Oliver will (hopefully) give up and we can all spend our fierce winter in relative comfort, or at least not wishing we were dead in the middle of a blizzard with temperatures at 20 below zero. Come spring, I might be able to accommodate his wildness by setting up the wire cage on the very small outdoor porch and letting him stay out there for part of the day. But that is still (than goodness!) about 5 months away, and I don't have to think about it until then.
But I'm telling you--any more shredded window plastic, and I might as well strangle him if I get any colder!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Kitties once more
Or how to spend a portion of a long drive preoccupied with a cat.
I went with my friend Steve on Monday on a two hour plus drive into New Hampshire. We also had to traverse a part of Vermont in order to get to the location in New Hampshire, on the west side of the state. The major route north is route 91, which is a nice drive, especially at this time of the year.
We made it to our destination easily enough (Dartmouth College) and he made the drop-off, and we started to head back home.
As the passenger, I got to look around more. We'd seen a lot of roadkill on the way up to NH, and it wasn't any different on the way home--foxes, possums, squirrels--it's always an unpleasant reminder that cars and wild animals don't mix very well. So imagine my surprise at one point, when, glancing into the ditch that runs parallel to the highway, I saw a cat. This cat wasn't really a full grown cat--as someone who has long been owned by the feline species I answer with some authority--it looked more like a 6-9 month old, with its slenderness and long, gangly legs. I think it was probably a male, only because it was white with orange, tabby spots. I yelled to Steve that this kitten-cat was there and alive, but we were too far from the location to stop. I called the 911 operator, and told them about it, and they said they would keep an eye out for it. But then Steve did an amazing thing. He got off at the next exit, and went back on the highway north, to see if we could rescue the kitten.
Alas, kitty was gone. We finally figured out that there was some hint of civilization behind the wooded area next to the highway, and kitty wasn't so lost and abandoned after all. At least he wasn't spread all over the highway, as so many other animals were that day.
We finally got home late, but at least I didn't worry about the kitty anymore--I can only hope that he got home without any mishaps.
I went with my friend Steve on Monday on a two hour plus drive into New Hampshire. We also had to traverse a part of Vermont in order to get to the location in New Hampshire, on the west side of the state. The major route north is route 91, which is a nice drive, especially at this time of the year.
We made it to our destination easily enough (Dartmouth College) and he made the drop-off, and we started to head back home.
As the passenger, I got to look around more. We'd seen a lot of roadkill on the way up to NH, and it wasn't any different on the way home--foxes, possums, squirrels--it's always an unpleasant reminder that cars and wild animals don't mix very well. So imagine my surprise at one point, when, glancing into the ditch that runs parallel to the highway, I saw a cat. This cat wasn't really a full grown cat--as someone who has long been owned by the feline species I answer with some authority--it looked more like a 6-9 month old, with its slenderness and long, gangly legs. I think it was probably a male, only because it was white with orange, tabby spots. I yelled to Steve that this kitten-cat was there and alive, but we were too far from the location to stop. I called the 911 operator, and told them about it, and they said they would keep an eye out for it. But then Steve did an amazing thing. He got off at the next exit, and went back on the highway north, to see if we could rescue the kitten.
Alas, kitty was gone. We finally figured out that there was some hint of civilization behind the wooded area next to the highway, and kitty wasn't so lost and abandoned after all. At least he wasn't spread all over the highway, as so many other animals were that day.
We finally got home late, but at least I didn't worry about the kitty anymore--I can only hope that he got home without any mishaps.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Just in case anyone was wondering....
Purraghlas is one of the Scottish gaelic words for "cat." See? You learned something new. :)
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Garibaldi
Garibaldi was my tough bub. He was huge--at about 20 lbs, he probably had enough Maine Coon in him to make him look like a purebred. But poor darling Garibaldi was dumb. As dumb as one could possibly be.
He was always trying to play at being the alpha cat, but Dax (in the early days) and Jean-Luc (more recently) made sure he never got there. He was mercilessly whupped at every attempt that he made.
I would often yell at him, because I thought he was faking being dumb. But alas, in retrospect, I realise no one could be that stupid on purpose.
He was always trying to play at being the alpha cat, but Dax (in the early days) and Jean-Luc (more recently) made sure he never got there. He was mercilessly whupped at every attempt that he made.
I would often yell at him, because I thought he was faking being dumb. But alas, in retrospect, I realise no one could be that stupid on purpose.
Sadly, even big bubbas get sick. Garibaldi ended up with diabetes, and I couldn't afford to get him to the vet. I have insulin of my own for my diabetes, and I thought to treat him on my own. Unfortunately, I was completely ignorant of doses and on the various kinds of insulin, and I gave him a dose which was way too much, and it lead to him having seizures and hypoglycemia.
The day before he died, I spent the whole day trying to bring his levels up, but in the end, the seizures and hypoglycemia claimed him, and he died on the pillow next to me about 4:00 in the morning.
RIP, my gentle giant.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Sleepy
People should read medicine labels. It's sort of important to know if a medication is going to put you to sleep during the daytime when you can't afford to be fatigued. I've been ready to call it quits at least a dozen times today, wanting to find a quiet spot and fall asleep.
I guess I'll have to find another allergy medication which doesn't make me so sleepy. It's one of those situations where you have a choice between scratching your face off from the irritation and itch or falling asleep at the drop of a hat. Interesting choice. I'll have to think about it.
TTFN
I guess I'll have to find another allergy medication which doesn't make me so sleepy. It's one of those situations where you have a choice between scratching your face off from the irritation and itch or falling asleep at the drop of a hat. Interesting choice. I'll have to think about it.
TTFN
Jessica MacGyver
Meet Jessica. Jessie is gone now, at the age of 15, from diabetes and kidney disease.
Even when she was a kitten, I knew Jessie would break my heart. And she did. And there have been so many others I've seen passing away, with me helpless to do anything. It's one of the curses of being longer lived than our animal companions.
The old ladies, Sandi, Alyn and Piccolo were the first, really. Then there was Alex, and Jennifer, and Harry O, and Starsky and other small kittens. And since Alan, Sandi and Piccolo's deaths, there has been Dax, Kira, Amanda, Jessie, and Garibaldi.
There are now only three. Delenn, Jean-Luc and Oliver remain, with Jean-Luc being the senior, and losing weight. At 14, that's a pitfall that age carries, and I know now that I can't afford a kidney transplant for him. but I will try like hell to do what I can afford to do.
Gotta go--talk later.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Back to square one!
I'm terrible at keeping up journals or anything like that, so I won't expect myself to post every single day. I tried that fairly recently elsewhere, and couldn't get through more than a week of it, so that's why I'm not going to be a real stickler for routine or making the effort to get through a post every day. I'll write when I have the desire to do so, and I'm not going to tie myself down to one particular area of discussion--this is how the last one died, trying to write about the same subject all the time. I have many areas of interest, and this blog will reflect that: television and films, writing, politics, animals, health, science, evolution, religious extremism, fears, graphics programs and producing images, and a whole lot more.
If you are here reading this, I thank you--it's nice to have a real person reading, and I hope there are a lot more of you to come. I don't want to offend anyone too badly with some of my opinions, but I have strong opinions on some topics and I will probably be discussing those things at some time.
Anyhow, this is #1. Written while being stared at by a 5 year old, long-haired, wide-eyed kitty named Oliver. Oliver likes to bother me when I'm typing--I'm sure he knows the computer is a rival for my attention, so he tends to bug me when I need writing time the most. Ollie is one of the three kits I currently have, and I will likely at some time get maudlin over those who are gone, so I'm forewarning you that I might make you cry at some point over lost companions and angel whiskers.
TTFN
If you are here reading this, I thank you--it's nice to have a real person reading, and I hope there are a lot more of you to come. I don't want to offend anyone too badly with some of my opinions, but I have strong opinions on some topics and I will probably be discussing those things at some time.
Anyhow, this is #1. Written while being stared at by a 5 year old, long-haired, wide-eyed kitty named Oliver. Oliver likes to bother me when I'm typing--I'm sure he knows the computer is a rival for my attention, so he tends to bug me when I need writing time the most. Ollie is one of the three kits I currently have, and I will likely at some time get maudlin over those who are gone, so I'm forewarning you that I might make you cry at some point over lost companions and angel whiskers.
TTFN
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
