I've always had a good sense of color... able to pick out what makes up a color, able to see where they're off, able to see colors others say should not be there. I ran across this test again, where you have to drop and drag colors in order of their hue. I took the test, with a bright window behind my screen and I still. kicked. ass. Scores ranged from 0 being the best to 1520 being the worst. For women in my age range, I scored a 12. I knew it wasn't perfect, but my eyes were fried and I submitted. Not to mention I have horrible vision and am old.
I'll take a 12!!
I made EL stop reading her physics book (she's reading it for fun, don't ask...) and take the test. I was thinking I stood a chance at beating her... the old gray mare might still be what it used to be. And her score?? 11! Grrrrrr. I'm going to block out the window and take it again...
Shout out question for Herr Doktor Vision... and forgive its simplicity, but... is it merely cones that allow us to perceive color, or does a life's worth of color experience help as well?
This song had to be added after I realized why it was playing in my head after taking the test...
A couple of evenings ago, I was out putting the car back on the driveway when I was caught by a very potent fragrance. I scanned my memory... thinking of what would be in bloom now and what would smell like this, but could not come up with anything. Later on I Googled and saw "Linden tree"!!!
Linden tree??? What?? We've had a young Linden on our parkway for about 8 years. I had never noticed a scent. We have many in our area, it's what most people put in when the beloved Ashes and Elms fall to disease or insect infiltration. I do not recall smelling this fragrance before, or if I had, I did not attribute it to the tree.
The next morning I went out and sure enough, the tree was full of blossoms. They're not overly obvious. I had seen the blossoms before, hidden under drooping leaves. I just didn't realize they were fragrance bombs! I picked some off. Oh yeah... that was it. That was the scent that was wafting through my sultry evening.
I know there are plenty of trees with scented blossoms... but I had not realized the Linden was one of them. Live and learn.
... I've met in the flesh. Last weekend's meeting was no exception. I had the fortune of seeing this person's show on Saturday, and as if that weren't enough, I had the added bonus of accompanying her out for drinks and conversation. Conversation with her was nothing new, but conversation in person was. It was a bit surreal. Oh the places we go...
Other surreal things?? Teaching women of a certain age on Wednesdays, only to find out that my Thursday class mainly consists of 13 yr-old boys. I'm not sure which group will be the one to push me over the edge. My humor is probably more consistent with the 13 yr-old boys, but as the authority figure, I'm not supposed to say any of it.
Other things that might or might not be surreal?? Life is busy right now and most of my blogging time/energy is going into my sketchbook. I have renewed patience for creative endeavors these days, but it seems to have taken a toll on my patience for mankind. I have little of that, so it's probably best I'm blogging less. Asses are caloric and I don't need to be chewing them.
One of our daily rituals is Mr. Handsome accompanying me to the train to pick up Grizzled after work. Mr. Handsome knows this is his deal. Squirmy Little Dog usually doesn't go. It's one of the things I do for Mr. Handsome to make up for unleashing Squirmy Little Dog upon his world. Grizzled doesn't need a ride either, but it's one of the things I do for him to make up for what the workday has unleashed on him.
If I stand up or start walking around at any point within 30 minutes of when I normally leave to go retrieve Grizzled, Mr. Handsome is RIGHT. THERE. READY!! And Squirmy is usually biting his ankles.
After getting into the car, the window must be down, no matter the weather. It's part of the deal. I get that. Mr. Handsome must go air-surfing. Mr. Handsome must greet his adoring crowd. I have never seen more friendly people in this place than I do when Mr. Handsome is sticking his handsome puss out the window. People smile, people wave... the other evening, a man even stopped and tipped his hat. Oh to be the recipient of such adoration. It probably even makes up for the bugs in the eyes.
I've been waylaid over the past 36 hours by sinus pain of the gods. I haven't had it like this in a while, but blame record level pollen and a weather roller coaster that soars into the 90's only to plunge into the low 40's... high pressure, low pressure, high pressure, low pressure. My head gave up and so did I. I took lot of sinus medicine, something I don't really like to do, and crawled to my bed... trying to read, trying to sleep, trying to watch some TV. I've had some interesting conversations with myself. A few one-sided ones with the dogs, who were more than happy to share bed space in the middle of the day! I don't know if they get sinus headaches. If they do, they're better at managing the really bad ones than I am. I can't wag my tail and a smile hurts. I also wonder if a dog can be in a bad mood. Sure, they can be angry, they can be scared, but they don't hold grudges, they don't spew crap, they just are what they are... usually fuzzy bundles of goodness... happy for whatever is in front of them whether it's a ball, a favorite human, a fallen piece of food, a scent on the grass, or a whole scenery of scent blowing in the window. I had the window cracked for a bit, thinking fresh air might help my head, and I loved watching the dogs catch a whiff of what was going on out there. You could see them actually catagorizing it all. It was like they were watching a movie with their noses... I wanted to see a printout of every little molecule they were deciphering and what it meant to them. OK, I was actually jealous of their ability to inhale large quantities of air without pain...
After 40-some years of living with dogs, I am still amazed at their ability to just be. This is who I am (I know... what I am... but to me, they're a who) take me or leave me. I will not change my hair, I will not change my size, I will not bark like a different breed, I will not even think about how I stack up against a different breed. I will just be, and I will revel in it. You can enter me into competitions that tell me if I'm superior or not, but that's for you. It doesn't mean a thing to me. I will just be happy here... going along for the ride that is life. Scratch my rump and I'll be even happier.
People have said it in many different ways, but I'll say it again... it'd be a happier world if we took a few more lessons from dogs. I should take a lesson and be happy where I am... and I kind of am... I'm getting to spend bonus time in my island of a bed, but I mean where I live... not the people I live with. I love and like them, but the damn place where I live. The place that seems to have a pole stuck up it's ass and demands that you do the same if you want to fit in.
I wonder how many people are naturally happy with a pole stuck up their ass. Really. I mean it. How many people chose that? I know I have met some people who were definitely born with an inserted pole and they seem happy that way. More power to them... but the rest of us?? At some point we buy into the fact that we're supposed to have one, and if we don't actually have one, by gawd, you'd better act like it. Don't act as if you can move freely about your world, reveling in your choices... no... follow some strict "pole up your ass" code. It will make everyone happier... or does it?
I feel like I am surrounded by a sea of discontent... people think they're kind of happy, but they're not. They're just trying to do what they think is expected of them and then find out that usually bites them in the ass as well. Do what your parents say, do what your school says, do what your peers expect, do what the village code demands, do what your boss demands... remember, if it's wet and it's not yours... don't touch it... I'm tired of it. What's going to happen if we didn't volunteer to stick that pole up our asses?? I'm guessing not much, but I think everyone would be happier. Everyone would be happier if they weren't spending so much time wondering if they've got the right car in the driveway or if they're asked to the right parties, or worrying that they've got the damn clover out of their yard... and they probably wouldn't worry about spending a sick day or two in bed... hanging out with the dogs... the dogs who have no poles up their asses and are so at ease with themselves that they'll crap on your lawn, even if someone is watching.
No... I don't want to crap on the lawn... but maybe I'd like to metaphorically crap on the lawn a little bit more than I do. Things seemed screwed up these days, on any number of levels... I think we'd be a little better of if we removed the poles from our asses and let the country go to the dogs.