Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Art Works

Mashups.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Over at Dilbert.com, you have the opportunity to come up with your own punchline to a Scott Adam's Dilbert cartoon.

Fun.

Some of the punchlines people have come up with are kind of lame, but the idea is cool.

Labels: links

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A little room.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

My friends recently moved to a new house which is cute and cozy and in no way huge (which is a good thing). As a house-warming gift, I thought I'd give them the gift of a little room (a wooden, hand-built box, painted inside, with an open front).

So, here it is.

A "little room."

It's been lived in. I had Bob try it out with some of his furniture. It looks like he settled right in. After I could see that it was structurally sound, I sent the empty room on its way, with a few usage instructions:

How to use your new storage room:

Hang it on a wall or set it on a shelf.
Put stuff in it, like mementos, or a small photo in a frame.
It's a storage room! Store stuff in it!

If only all home and room add-ons were so easy*.

* And not requiring plumb doors, trim, and wainscoting. ~~Crooked~~ Artsy is my specialty, which is why I restrict myself to paint-on remodeling.

Labels: art, friends

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Honorable men(tion).

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 7 comments link this post

::I'm always glad I can call her a friend; with writing like her most recent blog post, I am more than just glad, but grateful. I felt a weird kind of "yes, exactly!" and kinship and Jane Austen-y and maybe just a little less a loser.::

What about the honorable men? Girl Friday asks in her post (which you should read in full).

After reading it more than once, a particular paragraph stuck in my mind:

We mistake clever, sensitive men for honorable ones. We even fall into the trap of believing that nice, "red-blooded" American boys are honorable. Niceness should not be the standard. When we set the bar higher, we're derided.

I had never made that connection before, the one about mere niceness. Every woman is just out looking for a "nice guy", and every friend who's trying to play matchmaker is describing the potentials as a "nice guy."

Nice guy?

Women are derided and blamed and fed excuses for wanting, hoping for, and expecting more than niceness; wanting honorable, instead.*

Many times, over the years after something went sour in the peculiar non-event, not-many-know, reveal-little-to-anyone personal brand of concealment I specialize in, I would find myself saying to a close friend who asked for details (and probably said it with a lot of guilt and confusion to myself just as much): "...but he is a nice guy, despite all of this. He's a nice guy. Don't say anything bad about him. He's a nice guy. He means well. He's just too busy. But he's a nice guy."

That niceness is a trap. It leaves a woman feeling like she must really be awful for such a nice guy to still be considered, to still seem, nice, while she somehow feels like a truck ran over her heart.

All that nonsense about women preferring bad guys and nice guys finishing last? It's the wrong argument. Straw man. Red herring. Sour grapes. Whatever you want to call it.

Niceness should not be the standard.

I got to know a nice guy, last year. The year ended like the Hindenburg (read any post here from 2007 to get your fill). And this? He still is a very nice guy.

So. What.

*In many of the "relationship" posts on this blog, you'll find comments with far too many guys saying "yeah, but you women are this, this and this so what can you expect from us men?" Then it gets into the usual arguing back and forth of how women want too much or too little, or do this or that, or are somehow responsible (either passively or actively) for the behavior of men. Far from anything honorable. And it never occurred to me until now why that response rather repulsed me and seemed weasel-y, and why it annoyed me to have to wade in and debate and say, "oh, you're probably right, women should do this so men would do this." Many of these fellows seemed nice, so what could I say? They must be right. It never occurred to me to expect men to be honorable, and to be men. But it does now.

Labels: links, relationships

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Consti-bear.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Oh, the glorious hi-jinx at work.

After receiving several scathing verbal blows over my recent cat scat post, my hurt and wounded mind slipped into permanent junior-high-boy level. So, when Anna innocently asked my opinion on a design project geared toward a young girl, I moved in for the kill.

"Try some teddy bears. Going to the bathroom. Because that's all I can come up with, apparently."

This led to a few moments of hilarity.

First, Anna came up with a teddy bear design and asked me to come over and see if I thought it would be appropriate. I thought it was perfect, and wanted an item with the design on it for myself. (See the design here.)

Then, she began flipping through the teddy bear clip art, trying to find one that would work. As I looked over her shoulder, my de-evolving mind infecting hers, we both started giggling at otherwise innocent bear clip art.

Me: Ha ha. That one look like it's...

Anna: No, wait, look at this one!

Me: Ha. That one would be perfect if you added an alien bursting from its stomach.*

Anna: You're disgusting.

She flips to the next image, which is actually a cartoon-y bear with its teeth bared, as if it was merely growling, but in our current mindset, it looked constipated. We both burst out laughing.

I went back to my desk to resume working. It wasn't long before Anna jokingly suggested I draw her some teddy bear clip art since she couldn't find any good ones. This was a foolish request since it was obvious I wasn't going to come up with anything usable.

As you can see.

* Alien, Aliens, and Alien 3 were on the Fox Movie Channel recently and I recorded them on the Tivo (and will leave them on there for future enjoyment). I haven't seen them in years, and I've worked my way through the first two and am obsessed with aliens and facehuggers. I saw the alien creature used in Aliens. It's in the SciFi museum in Seattle. In person, it's a lot less terrifying. Looks like dried up foam and paper. In the film, however...well, see for yourself (warning: linked video is not at all child safe). Ripley is awesome. I love monster movies.

Labels: cartoons, friends, humor, work

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The inopportune cat.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 4 comments link this post

Violin practice ran late and long, and so I found myself riding with Alice home in the dark. I'd carpooled with Alice, the piano player for the violin group, and her daughter, who is also in the group. Since it was so late, she decided to drop her daughter off at home first so she could get a head start on getting to bed, and then go the seven miles further to drop me off. I sure appreciated the ride; carpooling is very necessary when gas is $3.68 a gallon.

As the car swung around the corner up their long driveway, headlights splaying out in front and piercing the dark trees that lined the road, I saw it.

An inopportune cat.

I'm sure, at any other time, it's just a nice tabby cat, a jolly farm pet. At this moment, however, it was inopportune. It looked peculiar in the position it had assumed, at least as far as the distance we were at would allow us to see.

The car drove further up the driveway, getting closer.

As the car slowly rolled by the cat, I commented. "It looks like that cat is going to the bathroom by the road."

"It does, indeed, look like it is," Alice said.

I snickered. I'm pretty grade-school, when it comes right down to it.

The cat was all squatted and hunched, right on the edge of the dirt driveway, its eyes huge, staring at us, no doubt greatly chagrined at the invasion of privacy. Unmoving. Caught in the throes of.... well, anyway.

"That must be very embarrassing," said Alice.

I actually think it probably was. Cats are animals that do seem to get embarrassed. The cat appeared unsettled, no doubt planning to have his evening constitutional in the safety of the dark only to be mortified by double spotlights and spectators to take it all in.

Maybe next time the cat will think twice before relieving itself right next to the driveway. If cats think.

Labels: cartoons, humor, my life, pets

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Avoid the Sunday downtime.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Helpful website owner tip #47*:

Avoid having your website host bottom-out and crash on a Sunday. Tech help is replaced by automated responses from either actual automated email, or the tech reply equivalent of an answering service.

"But Julie, I can't control when my site will crash. I can't control when my host will go wonky."

Well, then. Tough bounce. Welcome to my world.

Actual response to my support ticket that my site was down:

We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you. I have asked a member of our team who specializes in Web Site Management to review your account. You should be hearing from this specialist within 24-48 hours.

My reply:

I appreciate that it might take some time, but I sure hope you're kidding that you're going to have someone get in touch with me in one to two days... I can't run a website business like that.

Obviously, it's fixed now. But, for the record, avoid Sunday downtime.

*I don't know where the other 46 went.

Labels: technology

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The last bison.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

Back on May 2, I had a brief message on my Twitter update that said I was out to shoot bison, but with a camera. It was quite a day.

I made a much longer film for Michael and Colleen to keep as a kind of visual reminder of the bison herd they sold. The longer video detailed the day that started early in the cold morning and ended with a trip to New Rockford and back. However, here are a few of the exciting highlights in this shorter video.

Here you go. The herding of the last of the bison. Two bulls, named General Sherman and Ivan the Terrible.

Labels: friends, north dakota, video

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A well-oiled machine.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

The Sunday service was spectacular.

First, I lost a sheet of music so after the entire congregation had been readied and was waiting to sing, they instead got to watch me fumble around in my books and even look under the piano bench. Michael, who was leading worship, said that "we can just sing this one a Capella." Oh, the words I lack to describe the moment of horror when I realized that the song that was up on the overhead was nowhere to be seen.

Eyes! All eyes on me!

How dumb I did feel, sitting in front of the piano, wondering where the music I had pulled out not an hour earlier had gone to. After the opening song, while everyone walked around and greeted each other (and there were quite a few there, it being Mother's Day), I had to endure -- ENDURE!!! -- multitudes of jokes on how the piano wasn't plugged in and various references to the embarrassment.

Aiee.

I won't mention the surprise hymn Pastor Tony selected to sing right after our regularsinging, which caused me some serious stress as I was already feeling behind the musical eight ball.

Where should I start for the intro? How does this song go? Figure it out now! 6/8! I thought, bumbling around on the keyboard.

Then, since it was Mother's Day, the dreaded Portable Microphone Paralysis set in. Pastor made everyone say something about their mothers, speaking into the portable microphone that was passed around. My mom was sitting in the back row of the church. The mic eventually came to me despite all the praying I was doing to keep that from happening, and after announcing to the congregation that I didn't like speaking in front of people I rambled on into a bunch of other dumb stuff about growing up and slamming doors and the patience of my mother and her godly example and blah blah blah. Other people said things like "I love my mom! She's the best mom ever!" whereas I said "uh" about 20 times and little else.

I am a car wreck when a microphone is placed in front of me.

At the end, I noted that I wasn't going to get all mushy or dole out hugs, since I just don't do that.

At the end of the service (which also suffered one of those embarrassing cell phone interruptions, which only happen to people who aren't sure how to shut their phone off), Pastor gave some final instructions. "If you have a mother here today, go give her a hug..."

I had already stood and was walking to the front of the church to sit at the piano for the closing music.

"...even if you are supposed to be playing the piano." Everyone started to laugh.

This was not a day for the introverted.

Without missing a step, I switched directions and walked to the back of the church and gave mom a hug while everyone watched and chuckled.

After church was all done, I stood by dad at the door, watching people leave. "I run that piano department like a well-oiled machine," I joked.

"It runs better than the machinery I've been working on," he grumped, the sound of a happy farmer at the start of a new season.

We made* mom carry the tray from the pickup window back to our booth at the Dairy Queen afterwards. Mother's Day is a special day.

* No, we didn't make her. She just went and did it right away.

Labels: church life, family, music, my life

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Better on paper.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

I found myself saying in an email, yet again, that I am "better on paper.*" I say it a lot, usually as an excuse as to why I'm hesitant to meet people who only know me by my writing.

That's such a disappointment, I would think.

I'll say things in writing that I won't say in person.

But then I stumbled upon 2 Corinthians 10:1 and finally saw something in it. It's repeated again, in 10:11.
This is from a chunk of scripture where Paul is addressing those questioning his authority, and in amongst a lot of other good things, he talks about how, in person, he may seem meek while in his writing, he is bold. I'd suggest having a go at the entire chapter (or book) rather than let me butcher it, but those two verses really caught my eye.

I'm better on paper. I express what I'm truthfully thinking when it goes through the filter of the pen.
I'll say what I'm really thinking in writing, where, if you asked me something in person (how are you? anything new? what are you doing these days? anything to say?), I'll probably give you the following answers:

I'm good, thanks.
Oh, not much.
Same old same old.
Nuthin'.

The me on paper is not in conflict with the one-to-three-word answer me. I used to think it was, but I don't see it as that anymore.

I'll say a lot on paper, and put my name on it. But, in person, I probably won't even meet your eyes.

*Paper = screen = the written word; pen = keyboard

Note: This post was pre-written and published as scheduled. Read more about this here.

Labels: blogging, personal, religion, writing

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Talking allowance.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

Going with my mother through the supermarket today was exasperating. Every aisle brought a new person to talk to.

"Say, didn't I know you 12 years ago when I was on the Social Service board?"
"Well, hi! I haven't seen you for a while!"
"My goodness, how are you doing!"

I finally had to say she had used up her talking allowance.

My mother knows all but seven people in the state of North Dakota.

I'm pretty sure about that.

I'm a "get in get out" kind of shopper. That didn't happen today, however. She did not pay any heed to my talking guideline, for she is a good and social woman.

I should be like that. But, I'm not. If I go to get tomatoes, that's all I do. No talky.

Labels: family

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BLOGROLL

Mashups.

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A little room.

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Honorable men(tion).

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Consti-bear.

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The inopportune cat.

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Avoid the Sunday downtime.

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The last bison.

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A well-oiled machine.

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Better on paper.

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Talking allowance.

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