A Simple WordPress Tutorial
A nice tutorial on setting up a wordpress theme from scratch…
Bad Haikus…
Through my ongoing journey
the vortex evolves
its center becomes its whole
Once Upon a Bad Vaudeville Parody
Once upon a time there was an owl named Who. This caused quite a lot of confusion as Who constantly heard voices calling her in the night. As you can imagine this wasn’t conducive to getting anything done. Papers would pile up (as Who was very wise and learned) and household chores would remain undone. This led to skimping on daytime sleeping and the inevitable, subsequent daytime-catchup attempts that failed to produce much in the way of results.
One day Who addressed her problem with What, a friendly vole with a dirty mind (obviously as a result of his nocturnal digging habits and not anything his mother was responsible for!). What’s suggestion was to pay closer attention and perhaps try harder. If she did this, maybe she would be able to solve the mystery and remove the worry of just who was spying on Who (or is that whom?).
So that very evening Who sat in her nest, which by the way was on the ground, as she was a burrowing owl, and much resembled a rabbit hole, and alertly stared out into the night. Just around 2 hours after sunset, she heard a faint “who” come from the forest to her left. Who scrambled out of her nest and screeched “What!” and then listened… there was no response. A few minutes later she heard again “who…” and she yelled “WHAT!” and again there was nothing but silence. Now Who was nobody’s fool and she knew she couldn’t very well just sit there all night waiting. So she carefully and silently made her way towards the forest, listening very hard. Just as she approached the first of the trees she heard, a little bit stronger, “Who… Who…”
Determined to put an end to this once and for all, she sucked in a huge gulp of air and blasted out “WHAT!!!!!!”. Well, several things happened all at once. The first thing that happened was a very dirty vole exploded out of the earth right under where she was sitting. It was very hard to tell in the confusion who was more startled as What yelled “what? What? WHAT?” spitting out tail feathers and fearfully attempting to glance in every direction at once. At the same time Who was screeching and hooting “WHAT? What? what…” with diminishing volume as she attempted to catch her breath again. As if this wasn’t enough, a large grey owl fell from the branches above, obviously very disconcerted and blurting out “What? Who! Who? What!” It only got worse when this new owl landed unceremoniously on top of poor What just as he finally escaped from Who.
So there they all sat, out of breath and quite confused until What crawled out from under yet another owl bottom and began sputtering “Why…”
“What?” replied the strange owl.
“Who …” began What.
“What?” replied Who.
“I said why…” began What again.
“What?” replied the strange owl, who, if you haven’t guessed by this time (like What apparently hadn’t), was named Why.
“Now wait just a minute!” yelled When (a brown bat from a neighbouring wood), “You can’t do this sketch without clearing permissions with United Artists who are the current rights holder!” To which the current trio unanimously replied “PUBLIC DOMAIN!” because, as we all know, it has been over 50 years since the death of Abbot and Costello. At this, When was just a bit miffed, and quickly moved on to another storyline where she felt her talents would be more appreciated.
Meanwhile Who, What and Why had settled into a comfortable little isosceles triangle to contemplate the preceding events. “So why…” began Who.
She was immediately cut off by What, who couldn’t take an more of it. “It doesn’t matter!” he insisted. “Obviously Why had a good reason, who knows what it was…”
“I do not!” retorted Who, “Why would you say…”
“I would not!” exclaimed Why sharply, “I never would!”
“Wait, wait, wait,” tried What one more time. “Let’s just stop this nonsense now. When are we…”
“I’m not answering!” When yelled from the distance.
“O for gawd’s sake” sighed What.
Meanwhile Why and Who were eyeing each other up and starting to do that weird dance that owls do when their grammar gets challenged. In one last attempt to bring piece to the woods and fields, What said “Has anyone ever tried to sentence diagram Abbot and Costello?”
Well as we all can guess, this pretty much put an end to the discussion and the two owls began to parse. To this day, every night, a few hours after sunset, if you listen very hard, you can hear quiet murmurings across the land as Who and Why, watched fondly and tolerantly by What, whisper “hoo, what, why, I don’t know is on third…”, trying in vain to successful diagram what was truly the ultimate in nonsense.
Or was it?
On occasion of encountering a recalcitrant grump
If You Didn’t Know
After years of hummin’ and hawing Leslie and I have decided to invest in property. We signed the deal on a new condo in Edmonton. It’s still unclear what we’ll do, but now there are options. For example, Zak and Doug are still living here and might stay, or we might ship them off to live amongst the non-St Albertian, non-elite, non-high taxpaying crowd.
What we have are options (…and two mortgages!). So herein will lie the chronicles of trying to live beyond our means.
Step One: Decide
Seems with Zak’s imminent adulthood, St Albert is starting to wear. A good place to raise a kid but it really tends to isolate you if you have my kind of mentality. But where to go… “north side” votes her… “Mill Creek” dreams I… Or maybe a highrise, or maybe an acreage, or maybe Highlands, or how about Strathcona…
Step Two: Commit
Well if you know Leslie and I you know this one took about 3 seconds… spend $400,000 on something we don’t need without doing the appropriate research and comparison shopping…? OK.
Step Three: The Mortgage
What can I say… more the fools they…
Step Four: And now we wait…
Why I write
Y I Right,
Right.
I can’t sing
My speechifying has no ring
My wit lacks any zing.
Painting leaves them sad
My colours suck a tad
Brush strokes… well they’re bad.
While I might love to dance,
Even an elephant likes to prance
So in nimbleness, I haven’t got a chance.
Even computers aren’t my mode
You really should see my code
Not much unless you want your processors on overload
So I write
Badly I admit
And I don’t care, not a whit
Cause I deliberately make it shit.
And it you are reading this
Then I would be completely and totally remiss
In pointing out…
On occasion of realizing I’ve lost my forum
Shit people say…
Funny…
http://twitter.com/shitmydadsays
“Love this Mrs. Dash. The bitch can make spices… Jesus, Joni (my mom) it’s a joke. I was making a joke! Mrs. Dash isn’t even real dammit!”
Europe 2009: The Aftermath
So its been a week and a bit and I’m still in North America…
1. I caught a cold immediately after arriving home. Blech!. Its almost better now, but now Carmen has the sniffles and Zak and Leslie are also sniffing and blowing.
2. I took 1700 pics plus another 160 with the phone. Carmen added a couple of hundred in the mix as well. I currently have it carved down to 1651 but I’m still working on it. Boring night watching slides anyone? (Zak has another 1200 I have to sort through…)
3. I’m still tired. It’s likely half trip, half cold. Good news is I’m not waking up spontaneously at 6 am anymore. Blech!
4. Luggage is unpacked, laundry is done but we still haven’t sorted through souvenirs and mementos. Still, it gives the living room a “lived in” look…
5. Work. Nuff said.
6. I’ve been thinking about 2010 already. Too soon? Europe is likely out but I’d love to go sailing again. I wonder if Carmen knows how to reef a sail?
7. No, we haven’t touched the wine yet, but it sure looks tempting…
Day Twenty Three: Enjoycarmen.com
Carmen says: I can’t think in the morning. I don’t have to write until Monday. Zak’s zipper is down. Ow… Mean!
This and much more will be found on our new project when we get home: www.enjoycarmen.com It will the home of all things Moosh. Mostly unauthorized things so Carmen can feel teased and maligned without having to travel to France in the company of hooligans.
This morning starts with breakfast and packing. We are 9 bottles over our limit. Hopefully the weight won’t be a problem.
10 minutes and we catch the bus to CDG and the homeward journey begins. Sigh.
Waiting at CDG with perky blonde girl. I hate perky blonde girl. And I don’t care about anything to do with perky blonde girl and yet I still know everything about her. We are currently arguing about the legality (under french law) of stuffing used socks in her mouth. The bus ride was quick today and the line ups short. I wonder if that is just luck or a function of traveling on Saturday…
We will be boarding soon and I suspect the plane will be rather empty. I have noticed on this trip that there are too many people in the world. I guess it’s a good thing that Carmen’s misanthropic streak matches mine. Still I can’t help imaging travelling with other people more happy… happy people are annoying in their desire to share the joy. As of this moment, Carmen is now apparently “going to hell on a lightening bolt”
Alas no, the 777 is full and the seating arrangements are of course screwed, separating a young mother from her kids. Much to C’s chagrin, half of the perky couple is behind us albeit the less chatty half. But of course she’s found new chat partners… So we get to hear it all again…
One of the things I failed to mention yesterday was the glory and grandeur of Versaille so overwhelmed Carmen that she asked me to rip her clothes off. Being the gentleman that I am I could hardly refuse.
So after I had ripped the ribbon for holding her sweater onto the hanger off she thanked me. She’s so polite.
Montreal. 3 movies later and we’re here. Now we see what happens with the booze. I also noted that my magret is on the restricted list.
Duty is 66%. We had the nicest custom agent ever.
I just lost my original version of this post and now I have to remember all my witty remarks. Anyway, it’s a good thing the agent was nice. She let Zak have his allocation even though he’s still days away from 18 and then charged us for the cheapest wines in the bunch; considering one was worth .95€, that’s pretty cheap. All in alm the total for the wine was $15 and the duty with taxes came to $13. A hefty percentage if that was applied to my armagnac or one of the 20€ wines.
Later when we were coming back through security, Boingy Bunny cast an odd shadow and Carmen’s carryon (the second of her two bags) was subject to a thorough search. Out came 3 weeks of dirty laundry in a heap for all and sundry to gawk at. The bras got hastily shovedbunder the rain coat by the agent which only served to draw all eyes to the unfolding (pun intended) drama… snicker.
One last flight and a drive home and we’ll be done. I’ll likely post this tonight when we hit home.
Ok it turns out this flight also lands in Ottawa. There is no indication on any paperwork that this is so but… AND the movie set is different so I’ll never find out what happens in Transformers!
After much trial I got to watch XMen: Origins. The stopover on Ottawa was too long and for a while we thought weight lose our semi private seats to some boisterous soldiers. Now I’m just hungry.
10:18. YEG Woot and man is it ever cold…
Home, cats and sleep
Day Twenty Two: Pretty People in the Metro
Breakfast, primping and the metro to Versaille. Actually it’s the metro to the RER station and the RER to Versaille but those are just details.
On my first wander through HUB Mall at the U of A, at the age of 24, I was astounded by the number of pretty girls. It’s all a matter of points of reference and coming from Brooks I had fewer points than many. As I ride through Paris at almost twice the age, I am again struck by the same thoughts. It’s not that the people have chnaged, but my perspective sure has and the slight shifts in attitude and dress just draw your attention to it. Suffice it to say that the metro is a good place for people watching.
We are tired today (our last day) and I expect that Versaille will not get the attention it deserves. However my attitude towards the Rococco opulence has never been entirely positive and I suspect after weeks of the grandeur of gothic, that the over ornate elegance of Louis ego might just seem like trying too hard.
***
10 hours later… I’ve changed my mind a bit. First off the main structure was built by Louis IV. Way too early to be rococco for one, way too much history to be all ego for two. I’ll likely write about it later as it’s late and we have to pack.
I paid 9.60€ for 50cl of beer, by far my most expensive beer ever and we had pizza and wine for dinner. Postcards, packing and a quick game of crib round out the night.
Until tomorrow.
Day Twenty One: Surrounded by WooHoo Owls
Breakfast began by meeting Carmen and her naming all the birds she could be. I admit to becoming worried when she decided she could be her own prey. And the die was cast when her owl was more WooHoo than Who…
Our taxi ride involved the requisite too many bags with a women driver who drove stick, cuddled her dog, booked rides on her radio and negotiated French traffic: impressive…
Our wait for the train was relatively stressfree and soon we were aboard. The train was relatively empty so Carmen did not have to face 4 hours of backward travel. Carmen and I played footsie for a cour of hours, mostly due to her ‘hot’ ass and my cold feet… long story.
After a while I finally finished my book and mosied down to the bar car. I picked up some limonade and Schweppes for the lazy girls. Back in my seat I finally caught up the blog and decided to grace L and C with my charming wit.
Now I’m bored.
So Paris Montparnasse. Our third Parisian train station. Taxi to our hotel and discover that Carmen is finally sick of us. Or of Paris. Or of wine… No… Couldn’t be the wine. Anyway, she decides to bail on our plan to invade Les Invalides. We arrange to meet and strike out for our friend, the metro.
I picked the wrong stop and we got turned around until a helpful native pointed out the way. Les Invalide is a 17 century hospital for soldiers built by Louis IV. It houses a beautiful church for the soldiers and the architects build a spectacular gilt-domed chapel for the king on the other side of the altar so he could attend the services without offending propriety. In the 19 th century the chapel was converted to Napoleon’s tomb after his body was brought back from Corsica. We afe back in the real crowds now and it is much more of a chore to care about what we are seeing. Still and all it’s certainly helping me define grandious.
There is also a a series of army museums there. Since we had limited time we opted for modern and traced the French military from their defeat in the Franco Prussian war through to WWII. Unfortunately they kicked us out before D Day so I don’t know how it ends. : )
As when I was taught my military history class by an ex British marine, I am struck by how much of our sense of what happened is coloured by our American influences. This museum didn’t tell a different story so much as emphasize aspects that aregenerally ignored on our side of the pond. For that matter, it also dispense with much of our British influences as well. I would love to go back if I had time.
We scurried back to our hotel and met up with C for pizza and pasta. The place we picked was run by a strange strange fellow who definitely hadn’t heard of the sexual revolution and who’s idea of service was to make bizarre references and whisk things on and off the table. Needless to say we didn’t stay for desert.
Back at the hotel it was blog posting time and a couple of hands of crib. Tomorrow: Versaille!
