corn smut

Yes, you read that title right. Read it slowly out loud:

Corn. Smut.

I thought perhaps I read it wrong when perusing Wikipedia's List of Taco Fillings. Nik and I were mutually bored at work when we started to discuss what's for dinner. For fun I checked Wikipedia's taco entry.

And I learned something. Something quite frightening. Lo and behold, corn smut!

Corn smut is a disease of maize caused by the pathogenic plant fungus Ustilago maydis. U. maydis causes smut disease on maize (Zea mays) and teosinte (Euchlena mexicana). Although it can infect any part of the plant it usually enters the ovaries and replaces the normal kernels of the cobs with large distorted tumors analogous to mushrooms. These tumors, or "galls", are made up of much-enlarged cells of the infected plant, fungal threads, and blue-black spores. The spores give the cob a burned, scorched appearance.
- from Wikipedia

Yummy. "Diseased corn."

But it gets better. Read some dude's experience in eating a can of corn smut (with excellent photos). It was once featured as Tom Volk's Fungus of the Month in March 1998.

Yurgh.

gym-eve

On the eve of my last personal training session (not so much by choice, but the complete lack of finances to support that kind of lifestyle), I am left to consider what kind of impact it has had on my life. There is the expected: weight loss, muscle gain, increased flexibility, increased ability to run up stairs, climb hills, chase after dogs, etc.

But some other expected gains never appeared. I still don't have good self-discipline. I still find waking up at 6am torturous. I sometimes find myself comparing my body to the women at the gym and wonder why I even bother - I will never have perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect breasts, or the perfect feminine face like them.

I am just Michelle. Often lazy, mostly goofy, and, as one lover once said: "You are so beautiful in this light." (It was pitch black.)

Anyway, this isn't a down-on-Michelle kind of post. I just had some thoughts and words rattling around inside my head, and had to share.

[Remind me to compare myself to summaries later on. It's a good theory, but it's way past my bedtime right now.]

my great-grandpa

George on the Knoxford Farm
Originally uploaded by JudithAnne.

George on his farm in Knoxford, NB

oh no

Today is October 18, 2006.

And I just saw my first Christmas commercial on TV.

!!!

enough

I need to get this out of my system. This has become a growing concern of mine over the past few days, and tonight I cannot sleep because of it. I need to get it all out to take care of my mental and physical health.

Several points:
1. The few people who read this blog are most likely aware of where I work.
2. The few people who live in Ottawa and read this blog are most likely aware of the recent controversy about where I work.
3. The few people who know me apparently don't understand my personal code of ethics.

The "recent controversy" has greatly upset me. It makes me want to stand up on a soap-box and SCREAM. It is the same dialogue repeated by people who like to point fingers at an easy target. Those people who blindly demand change at the HS never demand change from the true sources of the problems:

1. The puppy and kitten mills;
2. The people who blindly purchase animals from puppy and kitten mills;
3. The people who blindly purchase animals from pet stores and backyard breeders;
4. The people who irresponsibly add to the numbers of unwanted pets;
5. The people who purchase pets yet don't seek reputable advice on the proper care for those animals;
6. The people who do not seek basic veterinary services for their pets;
7. The Municipality which does not deem the Spay and Neuter Clinic a priority;
8. The people who to this day continue to dump unwanted animals in the country, in parks, on the streets, or leave them abadoned in boxes, in carriers, in empty apartments and garbage dumpsters.

No, it's the organization whose mandate is to attempt to help these unwanted animals who gets the blame. He who weilds the mop is not always responsible for the spilled mess. It angers me that the people behind the controversy have done nothing but point fingers. I have seen no evidence that they have helped any other unwanted homeless animal. This, more than anything else, is what I find extremely disheartening.

But worse still have been my friends. I deal with a lot of horror on a daily basis. True horror. I don't discuss any of it with my non-coworker friends and acquaintances, because really, who wants to listen to that kind of thing? I'd rather be a positive, listening friend than a pessimistic, complaining one.

Over the past few weeks several friends have commented negatively on my work. That they believe in the myths instead of my word; that they interrupt my experiences and dedication with their assumptions... It really stings. I am shocked that you would think so little of me.

Perhaps I need this emotional stress to discover that I need to speak out about these issues. Perhaps I haven't been loud or proactive enough. Maybe I should tell my friends more about the phone calls I receive, the animals I see, the people I talk to. I've been silent when relatives allow their cat outside near a busy street; I kept quiet when my personal trainer purchased a puppy from a petstore known for selling puppies from mills; I haven't said a word when the woman down the street who can't afford emergency veterinary care for her cat gets more pets; I have minded my own business when people at the dog park repeat old fallacies. Perhaps this needs to change.

A coworker recently got the HS logo tattoo'd on her forearm. At first I thought her crazy. But now I'm beginning to realize I should emulate her bold statement. This is where I work, and I am proud of it. The policies and procedures mesh with my personal code of ethics. I have extreme confidence in my coworkers. I respect them for their dedication and unwaivering commitment to promoting animal welfare in our community. I hope that I can inspire the same respect in my friends and family.

Phew. Ok, I think I can sleep now.

Perth Fall Art Show

Art















Flat Tire





Other

the wishlist begins

Here's the first item: a Book Bag! A bag, made from a book!

sick at home

Again with the illness. Waves of nausea. Becoming intimate with the toilet. This is my day.

So why not do a "stream of consciousness" blog entry to keep myself entertained? This, perhaps, will be the longest blog entry ever.

~*~

First up, my housing co-op neighbour, Mark Bourrie.

I didn't know much about Mark, except that he has children and has lots of rocks in his driveway. Until I heard him being interviewed by CBC's Ottawa Morning. I checked out his blog and discovered his battles on Wikipedia. I now know a lot more about the man who lives two doors down. The fact I can't post comments to his blog frustrates me - for I would like to tell him in response to this that I visit the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography by the Chateau Laurier quite frequently. I like photos.

~*~



It's autumn again, which makes me sad. I do enjoy autumn - the produce, the crisp air, the vivid colours! However, I have turned into my mother. I am constantly cold. As winter is cold, it means that I go about in a state of perpetual frostiness. My toes and fingers turn bluish-white; I waddle around wearing longjohns under sweaters and coats, two pairs of socks (minimum) on my feet; Nik screams at my frigid touch.

Perhaps this will be the year someone surprises me with a trip to Jamaica in February.

~*~

I never replied to Zoom!'s enquiry to the NAC production of "The Wrong Son." This is quite neglectful of me: I apologize.

The Wrong Son: A brand new jazz musical thriller in the film noir genre starring some of Canada's finest musical performers.

The music was fantastic. The set was simple yet surprising. I loved the truck, the trap doors in the stage floor, and the mirror ball. The lyrics were sometimes uninspired - they were sometimes sacrificed to make rhymes. ("Do not speak, my love. Touch my cheek, my love.") The story was sometimes very s l o w. Yet Tamara Bernier as Maggie.... oooh, she has a smooth and buttery voice that makes you think of warm spring breezes. We first hear Maggie as the mirror ball descends in front of a sheer red curtain, with the lights twinkling all over the audience. A magical moment during which you are introduced to a beautiful voice.

I enjoyed the play - but I'm not sure it was worth missing Coronation Street for. But you don't have to take my word for it!

~*~

And recalling overdue replies, my dear friend Steffi in Germany (who has a vacation today, to celebrate the reunification of Germany) sent me this link.

~*~


Busy Bee

~*~

Nik and I both love brachycephalic dogs. But we both hate brachycephalic cats. Moxie is brachycephalic.



We were looking at the Frenchies needing rescuing at the the French Bulldog Rescue Network's website this morning. Dewey is very cute!

~*~

Last week was Banned Books Week. Ironically, a Conroe, Texas father wants "Fahrenheit 451" banned.

Alton Verm's request to ban "Fahrenheit 451" came during the 25th annual Banned Books Week. He and Hines said the request to ban "Fahrenheit 451," a book about book burning, during Banned Books Weeks is a coincidence.

As a child, I loved Judy Blume. Here was an author who wrote honestly about being a kid, and the mysteries adults attempted to hide from us. On her website she writes about censorship. Once, as a child, I tried to borrow Then Again, Maybe I Won't from the Woodstock L. P. Fisher Public Library. The librarian asked me if my mother knew I was checking out this book - I gave an honest answer, saying no, she didn't. She whispered to my mother, and it was decided I couldn't read the book. No bother, as I spent a lot of time at libraries. The next visit I sat in a chair and read it in the library. And I wasn't immediately cast in hell for my sin, either.

~*~

Ok, so now I'm bored.

Ottawa Valley Cat Show

Yee haw! We went last year, and like the crazy forgetful fiends we are, we went again this year.



There were cats:









The judging:







The desperate women looking for a cat-loving man: