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ST:NG and a back injury. Also, since I can't move much, a finished baby sweater.







(except for the buttons, because I don't know if it's a boy or girl)




Long Live Data!


And does anyone have any clue why Blogger refuses to publish my scheduled posts? Anyone else having this problem?

5 Minute Rant

In addition to sitting on boards, guest speaking for charity and volunteering at charitable events, Mr. Spit and I donate regularly, through pre-authorized withdrawal from our account, to several charities. Which doesn't make me amazing, but it does indicate that I'm involved in my community.

So, when I'm in Safeway, and I indicate that I don't want to give my $1 for Muscular Dystrophy - which is a worthwhile cause - I'm really not sure why you need to look at me and conspicuously donate $2 to the cause, as I am picking up my groceries.

Because I will think you are a prat. A big prat.

And for what it's worth, I didn't give my $1, because that's the third time you hit me up for this campaign, and I've already given $2.

Anna

You would think that I would know better. I, of all people, would know better, that only 2 months later, it would still hurt.

I was, mostly, OK to be back in Anna's city on Sunday.

But, you would think, I would know better.

The hurt of losing a friend doesn't end in 2 months. Raw memory doesn't fade that quickly, and when we turn those memories over this soon, there are still sharp edges to catch fragile skin that has only started to heal over. Sudden memory stings.

It stung to drive past Peter's Drive In, and remember seeing her in March. It stung to think of her, grasping my hand and telling me that she was sorry I wasn't pregnant that month.

It stung to think of her telling me that she was pregnant. It will sting on New Year's day, when that babe was due.

Still miss her like crazy.

I was there and she wasn't.

And it stings.

Monday Miscellany

What?



You don't assemble your lawn furniture in the middle of your living room? Not even with beer? Really? Honest?
Hmmm.


Oh well, this guy goes!

(and sorry for publishing on Sunday night. Blogger has decided not to schedule publication and IE 8 has decided to stop displaying pictures. I'm going to have a beer too.)

I Don't Even Want to Write This

I was at a presentation for work, a few years ago. A member of the RCMP was presenting, and talking about the ways in which criminals could steal identity.

There are, for your information, a lot of different ways to steal identity. Your mail, information contained on a 3rd party computer, and yes, from the dead. Including dead children. Gone are the days when thieves troll graveyards, now they use the Internet.

Obituaries. Notices, news paper stories, and I would imagine, our blogs. I have seen a few photo's in the last few weeks of babies' tombstones. My heart breaks at having to say this. It, literally, leaves me feeling sick. But there are names and dates on those photo's.

It's probably not a good idea to put up those photo's, on an non-password protected post. It's a lot of information. That could be used for purposes that you aren't completely expecting.

In theory, most jurisdictions now have "deceased" stamped on birth certificates of the deceased. In theory. And in theory, most places will link their birth certificates and their death certificates. In theory.

In practice, it's very easy to use the information from a dead child to get a birth certificate, and then to get a SIN, and then away you go.

Is it common? No, probably not. Although a search of the Internet indicates that it does happen.

I'm sorry. It just seems wrong that I should even be writing about this.

$187 CAD

Canada Day Stash. Don't look at me like that. It was on sale. On Sale. At it's for already established projects. (well, mostly, except for the stuff that isn't. Why do you have to be like this anyway?)


Toby doesn't care about the stash either.

The Maple Leaf Forever


Happy Canada Day