Speaking of smells…
I’m a big fan of Western medicine. And, along with that, a big skeptic of herbal and other home remedies.
Or at least I was. I’ve changed my mind after a couple of non life-threatening but annoying conditions that yielded better to herbal remedies than drugs, or at least the drugs I was willing to take. (People who talk about their health issues are boring, but remind me to tell you my psoriasis story some time).
Two things I’ve learned about herbals. One, they’re highly individual — something that works for me may not touch you. Two, you have to take them in higher doses and/or for longer than it says on the label. I suppose herbal companies are right to be cautious, but most of the stuff they sell is benign (and it’s pretty easy to find out online what’s not).
Like, if you make an herbal tea for a therapeutic purpose, make multiple strong infusions and sip it throughout the evening. And never buy in capsules when you can buy bulk powders (the capsules take up more room than you think).
I’ve recently been taking boswellia for joint pain. But because I’m a cheapskate, I bought a bag sold for veterinary purposes (10 grams for ponies, 15 grams for horses, a little spoonful for weasels). I mean, nobody would poison a horse, right?
I’ve been taking it about a week and I’m not sure it’s helping my joints, but I’m pretty sure it’s upsetting my intestines.
The other name for boswellia is frankincense. My poop smells of frankincense.
That’s it. That’s the whole thing. I told you this story just so I could inform you that my poop smells like frankincense.
July 27, 2017 — 10:12 pm
Comments: 19
Mmmm…I smell!
One of the things I love about Britain are all the little businesses that seem like they could have sprung fully formed out of Harry Potter. Baldwin’s — “London’s oldest herbalist” — is one.
Eh, 1844 doesn’t seem that old for London, so it must be the oldest still in business. It’s gone from the Baldwin family to the Dagnell family (and from one to twelve stores to one again), but they seem to have a good handle on this internet thing and likely to survive for a while.
They sell vitamins and supplements, but also scents and soaps and food and components for making your own concoctions. I make my own custom skin cream from their stuff. Not cheap, but excellent stuff and lovely to deal with. The smartest thing they ever did was send me a free sample of this bath goo, which costs about a pound a pop but makes the whole house smell of lavender, marjoram and geranium.
And so, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to stink the place up.
July 26, 2017 — 9:37 pm
Comments: 9
A conversation with Rudyard Kipling’s chikkens
The whole flock right there. Nothing much to say for themselves, actually. I don’t know if they kept chickens in Kipling’s day, but the mill was already there — meaning grain — so probably.
I can identify a Buff Orpington and a Light Sussex. The rest are just…you know…chickens.
We did a field trip to Bateman’s (Kipling’s place) last Friday on the idea that when the weather is nice, we’ll pack sammiches and go. It’s how you have to approach an English Summer.
It has been thoroughly miserable ever since. Damp, overcast and nighttime temps in the fifties. We have the heat on tonight. IN JULY.
I sometimes wonder how much more traction they might have gotten in Britain if they stuck with their original idea and threatened us with global cooling instead.
July 24, 2017 — 9:32 pm
Comments: 13
Feh!
I rolled out of bed this morning, made a cup of joe, sat down and switched on my computer monitor and…watched the screen fade to white. Like, totally white.
I did the usual cable-rattling, multi-booting and Googling without much luck (looks like a common problem with laptops, though).
As demonstrated by this crappy photo I stole off the net, my graphics card’s main plug is the one in the middle, the DVI. It doesn’t have the top one, the old VGA, but it does have several variations on HDMI. My monitor has VGA and DVI. BUT! I have an HDMI to VGA adapter thingie (huh! Wonder how that happened). Trust me: this paragraph made sense.
So I’ve got my monitor plugged into the HDMI-to-VGA. It works. Everything looks wrong and shit, but it works. (Hence probably no shiny new monitor for weasel, boo!).
So! Is the HDMI cable screwed? Is the HDMI port on the card screwed, or the one on the monitor? Do I just need to take it all apart, give it a good shake and a clean, and put it together again? Who cares? I’ve brought a shit-ton of work home this weekend and I don’t have time to mess with it!
Hope yours goes better…see you after the weekend.
July 21, 2017 — 9:12 pm
Comments: 18
Dead boring
Uncle Al asked why we didn’t just broadcast WeaselTV as being infinitely more entertaining than anything on the box. I don’t because it’s not. It’s hours and hours of nothing followed by a couple of seconds of something dark skittering across the field of view, if you’re lucky enough to be looking at the screen when this happens.
Case in point: the arrow is pointing to a baby hedgie. See him? And it’s cheating, because I’ve put a dish of catfood out to lure him.
Most exciting thing that happens is a spider crawling across the lens like a Fifties horror flick. This happens so often that I suspect either they’re attracted to the camera’s lights, or bugs are and they’re attracted to the bugs.
The real fun is arranging the cameras, within the limitations of the wires (they’re not wifi). I tinker with them constantly. (Aside: they need a spirit level on the top. They’re deuced hard to get straight).
At the moment, I have Cam 2 way too close to the ground. I get to watch slugs make their way slowly across the back patio. This is a surprisingly disgusting sight.
July 20, 2017 — 10:22 pm
Comments: 13
Full moon
Cheshire East Council is making some old dude get rid of his mooning gnome. It’s on public land and it’s a menace to traffic.
I know. Lame. I got home late tonight and spent my disposable time cleaning out the fridge. Trust me when I tell you I spend as little time as possible doing anything resembling housework, but I accidentally trip over a chore now and again.
Escuse me while I take a long hot bath in an Epsom salt and lavender soak and try to regain my composure.
Uncle B cleaned out the freezer and found a frozen Gordon’s gin daquiri thingie. That should help.
July 19, 2017 — 10:22 pm
Comments: 12
SQUEEEEEE!
Baby hedgehog. BABY HEDGEHOG!
For once, not from my kitchen. I saw it bumbling past in the drive and realized it was a little ‘un. And so, of course, I had to run out there and pick it up and scare it out of a year’s growth.
I tried to pick it up without gloves at first — holy cow, those spines are really sharp! It’s a little hard to tell scale here, but this one is about half the size of the adult we’ve been seeing — assuming it’s just the one adult.
Wikipedia tells me pregnancies peak between May and July and gestation is 31 to 35 days. So about right.
Ohmygod LOOK AT THAT LITTLE NOSE!
July 18, 2017 — 10:11 pm
Comments: 15
Not my cat
In honor of Charlotte’s return, we went to an open house at a cat sanctuary on Sunday. Okay, yes…we would have done anyway. But it seemed particularly appropriate just at present.
Not quite as posh as the Celia Hammond one, but I’m not sure the cats could tell the difference.
Amazing how many black and black-and-white cats were pining for adoption. It’s true in the States, it’s true here. People are weird.
We had an awesome time, bought lots of good things cheap and had a long drive across an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. (No, really, that’s a thing — it was an officially designated AONB).
This guy bites. The guy in the picture. I knew that, but I didn’t tell anybody. I just sat on a bench nearby and watched the fun.
One of those cats who strings you along happily for a while and then goes full psycho for a nanosecond. He didn’t seem to hurt anybody, so I could spectate with a clear conscience.
Who could have guessed a cat that looks like Hitler would be evil?
July 17, 2017 — 8:58 pm
Comments: 13
The monster that eats cats
This story has a happy ending, I’ll let you know right now. I wouldn’t tell it to you otherwise.
A few weeks ago, our neighbor came flying over to tell us she’d spotted Charlotte, our dear old kitty, in the bottom of her garden in a very bad way.
Dear god, was she ever. So much blood and fur. Her head was so messed up and bloody I thought she’d lost part of it. I was pretty sure I saw an ear in the grass. She was alive, though — panting hard and shocky.
It was a Sunday (of course). I scooped her up in a towel and Uncle B called around until we found a vet on duty.
She’s fifteen. Learning that visibly changed the vet’s attitude but, do him credit, he gave her a thorough exam (including the usual few expensive tests) and hooked her up to an IV overnight. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, no apparent brain damage (still has both ears, thank goodness). But she wouldn’t stand or respond, except to scream when moved. She tore a bloody strip off a careless veterinary assistant.
The only injuries he could find were two deep, horrible holes with long gouges in the top of her skull, like something with big canines clamped her whole head in its mouth and tried to pull her down into the ditch we found her by. I believe now that our neighbor startled whatever it was – which was more than lucky. No-one goes down that end of the garden much.
She began to purr the moment she knew she was home, but that’s all I could get out of her. For almost a week, she wouldn’t move or eat or focus. I forced water on her with a pipette several times a day (she could swallow okay) but otherwise let her be. I was sure she was starving herself on purpose, the way animals will when they’ve had enough.
But after four or five days, she would lick food off my fingers if I offered it. A couple of days later, she used the litterbox (I was never so thrilled to see a cat turd in my life). A few days after that, she staggered out of the back room and refused to return to her sick bed. She’s unsteady and a little loopy, but she’s positively back and absolutely her old self.
The pic is old. I took some new ones this afternoon, but you have to get close to see the scars, and why would you want to? She looks just the same otherwise. A little skinnier.
We’re so very grateful to have our old girl back. And with that happy thought, we wish you all the best of weekends!
July 14, 2017 — 9:34 pm
Comments: 32
Oooo…stovetop still!
I’ve always wanted one of these little beaten copper stovetop stills. Impractical, but fun. My dad had one that he’d use to turn a bottle of cheap wine into a thimblefull of cheap brandy for the edification of guests.
They are, of course, grievously illegal in the States. They’re mildly illegal here, but still too risky for a nimmigrant who suffers residency at the pleasure of HM’s government.
This one was at a food fair went to over the weekend (of a Food Fayre, or a Fud Faire, or whatever). It was not operational, but it was at the booth of an artisanal ginmaker, so all was not lost.
It was artisanal everything there. Artisanal cookies, artisanal sausages, artisanal goat cheese and artisanal couch cushions (seriously — somebody had a handmade couch cushion in Scottish linen with the design of a hedgehog that was to die for. £75).
And that’s the thing — lovely stuff, but a good three to five times more expensive than it should be. Which is why these little artisanal shops flicker in and out of business regularly. Fun Saturday, though.
July 13, 2017 — 9:56 pm
Comments: 32