Manga, literally translated, means “whimsical pictures”. The word first came into common usage in the late 18th century. (from Wikipedia) Most people think of manga as comic books drawn in the Japanese style. The fact is, they pictures are usually whimsical, even when they depict something as gory as decapitation – a subject that could well be the theme of a manga illustration.

Of course, being somewhat compulsive and obsessive, once a thought strikes me, it consumes me. My life will not have any meaning until I have completed at least one picture.

And it’s a lot harder than it looks.

I don’t want to just “copy” a picture. I want to make one of my own. My first idea was to draw it on the computer. That didn’t turn out so well. The lines were too jerky, and it just didn’t feel like drawing. Then I decided to use pencil and paper. Too many eraser marks and smudges, probably because I don’t know what I’m doing, and because I haven’t done that type of thing for some time. I scanned a couple of pencil drawings and tried touching them up on the computer. That didn’t work as well as I hoped.

So, I sent my feeble attempts to my son (ain’t the internet wonderful?) to ask his opinion and advice.

He pointed out a few areas that might help me out. He suggested I should work work on the eyes and shape of the head, the facial expressions, nose, mouth, body, legs, arms and hands. The hair was a little out, and the clothes weren’t quite right, and I should really consider attaching feet to the legs. And, last but not least, the boobs on the girl were too small.

I realized from this critique, that I was actually pretty close to having it perfect.

So, after deleting all of the old files and shredding all of the paper, I managed to come up with this:

This attempt was drawn from scratch using the computer, and my trusty old Wacom drawing tablet. I’m not a big Photoshop user, so I used the Gimp as the drawing program.

And yes, I know theres no boobs, arms, legs, body, hands, feet or clothes. I’ll get to them eventually.

But today was grocery day, and I did want to know what was left in my account after my trip to Alberta. Going away always cost more than you think it should.

There was still some money left. Not as much as I hoped for, but it should cover the groceries.

I decided to get a rough estimate on how much I spent while I was away, and as I was going through the online statement, this caught my eye…

I have the utility bills (and I think my property taxes) on an automatic debit with the City of Moose Jaw. So it’s not unusual to see a line in the debit column for that.

But a penny?

I assume that someone has to enter the information into a computer in order for the City to get the money owed to them. It’s their job, I realize, but wouldn’t you feel a little embarrassed asking for $0.01. No matter how fast you work, or how little you make, it HAS to cost more than a penny to process that. And there’s probably at least one printed copy of the transaction at the City, and one eventually to me. The bank will no doubt have a printed copy, and someone will (I hope) verify that the penny was taken from my account with proper authority.

So, just how much did the penny cost?

I have a new job with SaskWater. I officially begin working (for real) on the 19th of November, but I have orientation, and training and other preliminary stuff before that. It’s casual employment – that means they call me when no one else will work, I think – so I’m sure I’ll be working a lot of stat holidays and such.

And that’s okay. I didn’t really want a job that took hours of work away from people that needed it (younger people – with families, to be more specific) In fact, I wasn’t even sure I wanted a job couple of months ago. But, renovations are expensive, and Christmas is coming, so a little extra money each month will come in handy.

As my brother so quickly pointed out to me when I told him I had applied for the job, and gave him a brief description of what I would be doing if I got it, it is kind of Homer Simpsonish. I mean, looking in from the outside, it would appear that it’s not really a job that requires a lot of skill and/or intelligence. It’s pretty much a control room with a bunch of computer screens, flashing lights, and a fridge. However, there is more to it than meets the eye, but I’ll just let you think whatever you want to think.

It was one of the 45 RPM records in the box that has been living in my basement for several years. I have two questions to test your oldie and goldie trivia knowledge. The song is from 1961, and was recorded more or less as a joke, from a segment of a British TV series

• Who recorded the song (as listed on the record label)
• Who was it really?

[audio:Frankfurter_Sandwiches.mp3]

Although I have no way of verifying it, make your best shot WITHOUT a google (or yahoo, or whatever) search.

WARNING: I found that if you listen to it more than once, it’s one of those stupid songs that get stuck in your head, that you just want to go away… daah da da da dah duh Frankfurter sandwiches, Frankfurter Sandwiches…

—————-
Now playing: Nilsson – At My Front Door
via FoxyTunes

There’s a pleasant temperature during the day, and I enjoy the “Crisp” feeling in the mornings and evenings – just put on a light jacket and all is good.

Autumn does bring on the most dreaded of insects though.

Walks.

Most people call them flies. They are flies in the summer time.

In the fall, flies transform into walks.

Walks are slow, short flight insects (I assume because of the cooler temperature) and become very annoying. Even more so than their summertime cousins (the flies – try to keep up) They will land on you (because they tire quickly) crawl a short distance, and move on. Most likely, to land on you again, and take another short walk across you face.

Unfortunately, Mother Nature has given walks the uncanny ability to avoid fly swatters. While they appear slow and easy targets, at the mere thought of swatting one, some sort of telepathic signal is received by the walk, and it takes another one of its ridiculously quick flights.

And again, it will land on you, or close to you, and take another stroll.

I have several walks in my house. I had the windows and doors open to clear out the dust from yesterday’s wall removal.

I hate walks.

I thought I’d post a short clip and make it a contest. The first to “Name That Tune” correctly gets to buy me a beer. All other contestants get to buy two beers.

[audio:name_that_tune_01.mp3]

Need hints?

It’s an old song – came out in 1975. It probably puts some people at a disadvantage because it’s older than they are.

It never made the top twenty.

No one remembers it

Good luck

Since I’m gradually moving all of my stuff from the old house to the new one, I grabbed some 45′s that were in a box in the basement to give it a try. I didn’t look at the titles – just picked up the box and went with whatever I had.

Of course, this was the box of old records I had when I was a kid. Real little – maybe six or seven.

But I am not easily dissuaded, and I ventured forth with my collection of Disneyland, Cricket, and Peter Pan records. You never know. I might want to hear the Ballad of Wyatt Earp or the Astro Boy March someday.

So if you want to hear some of the great tunes I grew up with, listen to the songs below:

[audio:frankie_star_-_big_rock_candy_mountain_b1.mp3]
Big Rock Candy Mountains

[audio:cricketone_players_and_orchestra_-_the_little_engine_that_could.mp3]
The Little Engine That Could

They are MP3′s, and in low quality, so you won’t be able to hear all of the snap crackles and pops as clearly as I can.

Enjoy the music.

Of course, with the recent heat wave (37 on Friday) we have had here in Moose Jaw, and the high UV index (it was at 9 – whatever that means) I was pushing it. Add to that, the fact that I seldom wear shorts, so there was white legs that never see the sun exposed for long days, a sunburn was inevitable.

If you have been following my posts, I have been spending long days working on the yard at my “other” house. I want to get the back yard fixed up, because it was such a plain yard. I have been working over there from early in the morning – about 7:00 AM – till late in the evening – 9:00 PM or later. Anyway, it was just too damn hot to wear my usual jeans and t-shirt, and I opted for the shorts and muscle shirt thing.

Because I am working with shovels and picks and lawn mowers and some power tools, I thought it was wise to have some sort of safety shoes. I decided on my steel toed, steel shanked running shoes. I wore socks the first day, but I did push them down as far as possible so that I wouldn’t get that goofy tan line at the ankle.

Apparently, I didn’t push them down far enough, because after one day, my legs turned a lovely shade of red (slight burn) but i had a definite white cutoff just at the ankle bone. Permanent white socks.

The next day, I decided to abandon the socks. I reasoned that since I got white socks in just one day, I should be able to average it out the next day and all would be well.

As it turns out, working that long in the sun is not a wise idea. My legs burned so bad that the skin is starting to peel. But the white socks burned worse than the rest of my legs. Now I have permanent bright red socks.

The sad thing is, I realize now that I am a sick, demented man. I have slightly red legs, bright red socks, and white feet where the shoes were. I thinking the next move is barefoot – to get rid of the line where the shoes were. Any suggestions?

Well, last weekend, the truck moved out of his back yard to the front street. At some point in time, I discovered that the truck belonged to a friend of my neighbour. The story is, that he bought the truck, but didn’t want his wife to know, because she had explicitly forbid him to buy a new truck. So the truck was hidden away under the tarp for two months – I’m sure his wife was completely fooled by this little trick.

My neighbour was complaining to me that he was getting tired of lying to the wife about what the old gentleman had done with about $25,000 that used to be in their bank account, and was only going to store it for another month or two. “Four months is about as long as I can let him use my yard, and lie to his wife.”

Now, none of this is really any of my business, but I have found it to be more than slightly amusing.

But now, the truck has been parked in front of my house for a week. Right in the middle of “my space.” Legally, I have no claim over that area, but it annoys me.

I approached the subject sort of cautiously, and remarked that the truck was finally out of storage, because it had been parked in front of my house for a week. I should know better, because subtle is not a concept my neighbour generally understands.

“Yeah,” he says, “the old guy wanted to take it for a drive and make sure the battery was charged up and keep the engine lubricated so it wouldn’t seize up. His wife still doesn’t know he bought the truck, so we decided to park it in front of your house in case she drives by. She’s starting to get suspicious, I think.”

“Uh huh… you guys don’t think she’ll know that it’s his truck parked in front of my house?” I asked, with a slight emphasis on the “parked in front of my house.”

“Well, if it was in front of my house, she would probably know for sure. Besides, sometimes I like to park in front of my house and not in the driveway if I plan on going out in just a little while.”

“I do too,” I said. “I was going to park out front today but there’s not enough room behind the truck, and I would block your driveway. If I park in front, it puts me too close to the hydrant and stop sign, and I might get a ticket or have a vehicle towed away.”

Of course, he came up with a solution to my dilemma. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back in town and see if he can pull the truck ahead a couple of feet. How much room do you need?”

Count to ten (or a hundred) Maybe a more direct approach is needed…

I had never used it, but it was supposed to let me take a photo from as far as 25 feet away. So, when someone said they wanted a family photo while we were in Edmonton, I thought it was the chance to try it out.

After I figured out how to make it work (you have to change some of the set-up on the camera to enable it) I set the camera on a tripod and lined everybody up and pointed the marvelous gadget at the camera and pushed the clicker button.

Nothing happened.

So I waved it around (cause that’s what you do with a remote control when it doesn’t work) and tilted it up and pointed it down and aimed to the right and then the left and pushed harder on the button and pushed again and still nothing happened. I moved a little closer and pushed the button and still nothing. About 5 feet from the camera I got a beeping sound, and a red light started flashing, but by the time I got back to where I should be, it was too late.

In the end, one of Ashley’s friends acted as the remote control. Not quite so high tech, but it worked better.