I'm taking a class and this video was part of the class.
The video is about text. The professor who made this video used text to describe the way that text has changed because of advances in technology. He placed text in different location to illustrate the changes. All of this was done to make a point about how we are responsible for changing culture.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Mountain Dog
Her first family simply called her Runt. We named her Bella de la Runte when she came to live with us. My mom stuck a middle name in there – making her Bella MopIt de la Runte – when she realized how quickly Bella could clean up after eating children.
Today, we must find a place for another title, perhaps Bella MopIt de la Runte, Mountain Dog. Or maybe it should be Cliff Hanger. Or Gasp-Inducing-Gray-Hair-Causing-Heart-Attack-Bringing-Rim-Running Rocket.
You see, yesterday we took Bella on a hike in the rugged Mule Canyon area. Bella has been on a few hikes before, but she had never seen terrain quite like this. We hiked up a dry river bed to a mesa-like outcrop of rocks. My goal was to get on top of the small mesa to get a good look at the area around us. As we began to work up the rocks, which were essentially small cliffs in some places, Bella seemed to explode into a fearless energy ball, racing up rock faces that were far too steep for us lowly humans to even attempt. Once she reached the top, she would turn around and jump off (much to Christina’s horror), sometimes leaping off ledges three or four times her two-foot stature. She wasn’t doing it out of necessity; she was doing it because she wanted to.
When we reached the top of the mesa, which was situated atop cliffs 10 or more feet high most of the way around, a new sound filled the hills: “Bella! You are too close to the edge. Too Close! Bella! Come here, now! Bella! Too Close!” It was Christina, who was pulling her hair out as Bella raced across the top of the mesa, screeching to a halt only when she came within inches of the treacherous edge.
For what it’s worth, Bella actually scared me pretty bad once too. She raced along the edge of a ledge that quickly became too small for her to keep her balance. As her feet started to slide downward, she paused, looking like she wished she could turn around. It was too late, though, and she realized it. Instead, she leapt off the ledge that was taller than me. (I was at the bottom, but I am not nearly quick enough to answer Christina’s plea of “Catch her, honey!”) It was a heart-stopping moment as she seemed to float there, so high in the air, before she came crashing down. I would like to know what went through Bella’s mind. Maybe it was, “Hmm, this is further than I thought it was.” Or, “Oops, shouldn’t have done that.” Personally, I have to believe it was, “Look at the goofy looks on the faces of those silly humans. They obviously don’t know who they are dealing with.” She landed the leap on all four paws, with barely even a stutter (an Olympic gymnast would have been proud) and raced on her happy little way.
We hiked a similar area today, partly because we were bored this afternoon and partly because we had forgotten the camera. Bella’s antics hadn’t slowed a bit, and our trip got cut short because Christina couldn’t handle the stress any longer. Of course, today’s treacherous edge was more like 100 feet than yesterday’s 10, so I can see where she is coming from. However, the adventure didn’t end before we snapped some pictures of the little maniac racing up and down some steep rocks faces with her long pink tongue hanging out of her perpetually smiling mouth.
Today, we must find a place for another title, perhaps Bella MopIt de la Runte, Mountain Dog. Or maybe it should be Cliff Hanger. Or Gasp-Inducing-Gray-Hair-Causing-Heart-Attack-Bringing-Rim-Running Rocket.
You see, yesterday we took Bella on a hike in the rugged Mule Canyon area. Bella has been on a few hikes before, but she had never seen terrain quite like this. We hiked up a dry river bed to a mesa-like outcrop of rocks. My goal was to get on top of the small mesa to get a good look at the area around us. As we began to work up the rocks, which were essentially small cliffs in some places, Bella seemed to explode into a fearless energy ball, racing up rock faces that were far too steep for us lowly humans to even attempt. Once she reached the top, she would turn around and jump off (much to Christina’s horror), sometimes leaping off ledges three or four times her two-foot stature. She wasn’t doing it out of necessity; she was doing it because she wanted to.
When we reached the top of the mesa, which was situated atop cliffs 10 or more feet high most of the way around, a new sound filled the hills: “Bella! You are too close to the edge. Too Close! Bella! Come here, now! Bella! Too Close!” It was Christina, who was pulling her hair out as Bella raced across the top of the mesa, screeching to a halt only when she came within inches of the treacherous edge.
For what it’s worth, Bella actually scared me pretty bad once too. She raced along the edge of a ledge that quickly became too small for her to keep her balance. As her feet started to slide downward, she paused, looking like she wished she could turn around. It was too late, though, and she realized it. Instead, she leapt off the ledge that was taller than me. (I was at the bottom, but I am not nearly quick enough to answer Christina’s plea of “Catch her, honey!”) It was a heart-stopping moment as she seemed to float there, so high in the air, before she came crashing down. I would like to know what went through Bella’s mind. Maybe it was, “Hmm, this is further than I thought it was.” Or, “Oops, shouldn’t have done that.” Personally, I have to believe it was, “Look at the goofy looks on the faces of those silly humans. They obviously don’t know who they are dealing with.” She landed the leap on all four paws, with barely even a stutter (an Olympic gymnast would have been proud) and raced on her happy little way.
We hiked a similar area today, partly because we were bored this afternoon and partly because we had forgotten the camera. Bella’s antics hadn’t slowed a bit, and our trip got cut short because Christina couldn’t handle the stress any longer. Of course, today’s treacherous edge was more like 100 feet than yesterday’s 10, so I can see where she is coming from. However, the adventure didn’t end before we snapped some pictures of the little maniac racing up and down some steep rocks faces with her long pink tongue hanging out of her perpetually smiling mouth.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Mighty, Mighty Hunters
It started with a yard sale. Seriously.
Sometime in early June, Christina and I stopped by a yard sale in our neighborhood. We went for a dresser, and left with a bow and a dozen arrows. It was a used PSE F2. A couple years old, and very definitely used, but we couldn’t pass. Christina had been asking for a bow for a while, so how could I say no?
Of course, the bow was for me. It was way too big for her – and there is no way she could pull that monster back. It fit me so well.
Christina came out better, anyway. As usual. She got a brand new bow: A left-handed Parker Buckshot that only weighed about 2 ½ pounds. Then came the arrows, the sight pins, the release aids and what must have been $10 million worth of stuff to pack in a backpack. Oh, yeah. And two archery deer tags.
What were we thinking? I’m guess I’m still not sure either. I had never bow hunted, and Christina had never hunted for anything – except a lost sock, maybe.
After a month of chasing deer around, all the stuff we bought is still in the pack, and in mint condition. Everything except one broadhead. It’s in a tree. Deep.
Seriously, though, we had a great time, even though we didn’t kill anything. Christina is actually a fairly effective hunter, as long as she was back in the truck before it was dark. (That’s when the bears come out. It’s true. She swears.) Christina and her little Buckshot fired off arrows at two different bucks, and both times she just barely missed. Deer dodge well. Don’t believe me? Ever shot one with a bow? Me neither. I also saw two arrows sail past their intended target. But I didn’t miss that tree. (Yep. The one with the broadhead in it.) Of course, trees can’t dodge.
Our hunt started slow, and we trudged through some frustrating evenings when nothing went right. But we kept going. And going. The action did pick up toward the end of the season, when I got looks at several pretty good bucks, but those durn things didn’t care to stick around and chat, and the season closed with Christina and my father watching a juggernaut buck and his quorum walk peacefully into the trees about 100 yards behind where I was sitting.
If you want all the details, I’d be happy to fill you in. Just give me a call. Seriously. I can talk deer all night.
Sometime in early June, Christina and I stopped by a yard sale in our neighborhood. We went for a dresser, and left with a bow and a dozen arrows. It was a used PSE F2. A couple years old, and very definitely used, but we couldn’t pass. Christina had been asking for a bow for a while, so how could I say no?
Of course, the bow was for me. It was way too big for her – and there is no way she could pull that monster back. It fit me so well.
Christina came out better, anyway. As usual. She got a brand new bow: A left-handed Parker Buckshot that only weighed about 2 ½ pounds. Then came the arrows, the sight pins, the release aids and what must have been $10 million worth of stuff to pack in a backpack. Oh, yeah. And two archery deer tags.
What were we thinking? I’m guess I’m still not sure either. I had never bow hunted, and Christina had never hunted for anything – except a lost sock, maybe.
After a month of chasing deer around, all the stuff we bought is still in the pack, and in mint condition. Everything except one broadhead. It’s in a tree. Deep.
Seriously, though, we had a great time, even though we didn’t kill anything. Christina is actually a fairly effective hunter, as long as she was back in the truck before it was dark. (That’s when the bears come out. It’s true. She swears.) Christina and her little Buckshot fired off arrows at two different bucks, and both times she just barely missed. Deer dodge well. Don’t believe me? Ever shot one with a bow? Me neither. I also saw two arrows sail past their intended target. But I didn’t miss that tree. (Yep. The one with the broadhead in it.) Of course, trees can’t dodge.
Our hunt started slow, and we trudged through some frustrating evenings when nothing went right. But we kept going. And going. The action did pick up toward the end of the season, when I got looks at several pretty good bucks, but those durn things didn’t care to stick around and chat, and the season closed with Christina and my father watching a juggernaut buck and his quorum walk peacefully into the trees about 100 yards behind where I was sitting.
If you want all the details, I’d be happy to fill you in. Just give me a call. Seriously. I can talk deer all night.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Husband #2
The Reason You Need a Husband, #2
Michael doesn’t really want me to write about this, so I’ll keep it short. So about two weeks ago we started to have a little trouble with our toilet. Luckily the contents never went over-board, but they came darn close. Anyways, I couldn’t imagine what could cause such mayhem. Then I noticed something was missing from the side of the toilet bowl: the bowl freshener. My first thought is Bella. Bella is probably running around the house with it in her mouth. Find Bella, find toilet bowl freshener.
Nope. Innocent. She was sleeping so peacefully on the couch, it couldn’t be her. My next thought Michael, I bet Michael threw it away. I asked him when he got home for lunch if he had seen the dumb thing. To my horror his reply was no. At that moment I realized where the bowl freshener had gone.
That’s OK. How hard could it really be?I’ll just get a pair of rubber gloves stick my hand down there and pull it out, because it couldn’t go that far right? WRONG!! Michael came home from work eager to go hunting, until I told him about the little problem. I told him my theory; he was doubtful but left for the hardware store. He came back with a plunger and rubber gloves. It wasn’t just in hands reach. He tried everything.
I was very good at telling him what he needed to do. “We need something longer and with a hook at the end.” I told him. Michael gave me this look like "Really? Why didn’t I think of that?" Then he left for the hardware store again. And he came back with something longer. He bought one of those toilet snake things. He tried that for awhile, but still nothing was working. At this point I thought this isn’t working, I think we might have to call a plumber.
Do they have plumbers in Blanding?
With one last hope, Michael asked for a hanger. He cut the top part off and wound it into the end of the snake. After three attempts, magic. The enemy surrendered. Up came the flimsy wire that used to hold the toilet freshener. That will be the last time I buy one of those things from the dollar store..
I gave Michael a hug and a kiss. He told me he never wants to do plumbing ever again. Am just glad we didn’t have to call plumber. Our $0.50 toilet bowl freshener turned into a $28 one.
Thanks again dear for being the best and cheapest plumber!!
Michael doesn’t really want me to write about this, so I’ll keep it short. So about two weeks ago we started to have a little trouble with our toilet. Luckily the contents never went over-board, but they came darn close. Anyways, I couldn’t imagine what could cause such mayhem. Then I noticed something was missing from the side of the toilet bowl: the bowl freshener. My first thought is Bella. Bella is probably running around the house with it in her mouth. Find Bella, find toilet bowl freshener.
Nope. Innocent. She was sleeping so peacefully on the couch, it couldn’t be her. My next thought Michael, I bet Michael threw it away. I asked him when he got home for lunch if he had seen the dumb thing. To my horror his reply was no. At that moment I realized where the bowl freshener had gone.
That’s OK. How hard could it really be?I’ll just get a pair of rubber gloves stick my hand down there and pull it out, because it couldn’t go that far right? WRONG!! Michael came home from work eager to go hunting, until I told him about the little problem. I told him my theory; he was doubtful but left for the hardware store. He came back with a plunger and rubber gloves. It wasn’t just in hands reach. He tried everything.
I was very good at telling him what he needed to do. “We need something longer and with a hook at the end.” I told him. Michael gave me this look like "Really? Why didn’t I think of that?" Then he left for the hardware store again. And he came back with something longer. He bought one of those toilet snake things. He tried that for awhile, but still nothing was working. At this point I thought this isn’t working, I think we might have to call a plumber.
Do they have plumbers in Blanding?
With one last hope, Michael asked for a hanger. He cut the top part off and wound it into the end of the snake. After three attempts, magic. The enemy surrendered. Up came the flimsy wire that used to hold the toilet freshener. That will be the last time I buy one of those things from the dollar store..
I gave Michael a hug and a kiss. He told me he never wants to do plumbing ever again. Am just glad we didn’t have to call plumber. Our $0.50 toilet bowl freshener turned into a $28 one.
Thanks again dear for being the best and cheapest plumber!!
Friday, August 29, 2008
The reason you need a husband
To make a long story short -- OK so the story really isn't that long: For a long time we have been looking for a dresser for our new apartment. Really, we've needed one since we got married. Mostly, we have been looking at yard sales (due to the extreme lack of furniture stores in Blanding). Of course, visiting yard sales led us into a heap of different adventures (including the deer hunt which will be posted soon). Anyway, we had a hard time finding a dresser, but we finally managed to find one, even though we thought it was overpriced. But we needed it, so we dished out the money.
This dumb dresser has been sitting on our porch for the last few weeks, because I won't let Michael bring it into to the house until I inspect it and get every bug that might be hiding in some small crack. Then I got this great idea to paint the dresser. And, if I'm going to paint it, I’ll have to sand it first. So I spent a few more weeks deciding which sander to buy.
And this is why you need men: I’ve been sanding my dresser for the last few days. The top of the dresser is the hardest part to sand. I'm not sure why. Eventually, I got sick of sanding the top and I moved to the drawers. After I was done with a drawer I would pull it out and set it aside. I was down to the second drawer. That's when I found it. A spider. OK. I really can handle spiders. But this wasn't just any spider. It was a Black Widow. I was done sanding.
I asked Michael to kill the widower when he got home for work. We got busy working on other things and forgot about the spider until the next day, when I remembered the dresser. But I could not bring myself to keep sanding. I spent most of the day thinking how I could kill it. I devised all sorts of inventions, but none fit the bill just right.
After giving up on ever conquering the evil thing myself, I asked Michael if he would just kill it today when he got home for lunch. I asked him how he was going to do it. He told me would just use MY House Broom -- the one I use inside the house -- to brush it out of the dresser and then he would smash the spider. Yuck! Spider guts on my broom! Besides, if it was that easy I would have done it myself by now. But before I could stop him it was done.
This dumb dresser has been sitting on our porch for the last few weeks, because I won't let Michael bring it into to the house until I inspect it and get every bug that might be hiding in some small crack. Then I got this great idea to paint the dresser. And, if I'm going to paint it, I’ll have to sand it first. So I spent a few more weeks deciding which sander to buy.
And this is why you need men: I’ve been sanding my dresser for the last few days. The top of the dresser is the hardest part to sand. I'm not sure why. Eventually, I got sick of sanding the top and I moved to the drawers. After I was done with a drawer I would pull it out and set it aside. I was down to the second drawer. That's when I found it. A spider. OK. I really can handle spiders. But this wasn't just any spider. It was a Black Widow. I was done sanding.
I asked Michael to kill the widower when he got home for work. We got busy working on other things and forgot about the spider until the next day, when I remembered the dresser. But I could not bring myself to keep sanding. I spent most of the day thinking how I could kill it. I devised all sorts of inventions, but none fit the bill just right.
After giving up on ever conquering the evil thing myself, I asked Michael if he would just kill it today when he got home for lunch. I asked him how he was going to do it. He told me would just use MY House Broom -- the one I use inside the house -- to brush it out of the dresser and then he would smash the spider. Yuck! Spider guts on my broom! Besides, if it was that easy I would have done it myself by now. But before I could stop him it was done.
This isn't the greatest picture but I wasn't getting any closer.
Side-note: This is the second first Black-widow we have killed in the last 2 months.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Memory Lane
Memory Lane.... the tag that gets everyone involved. I got this from a few friends and I thought I would play the game. Here's how you play:
1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot -- anything you remember.
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory of you. The responses can actually be pretty funny! If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.
1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot -- anything you remember.
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory of you. The responses can actually be pretty funny! If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.
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