points to the heathen chinese

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as you check out these images, i want you to consider for a moment how many overeducated and overpaid western designers would happily give the fees from their next ten commissions to be able to achieve even a tenth of the harmonious marriage of form and function accomplished by a bunch of illiterate yunnan peasants who still plow their ancient terraced fields with oxen.

thank you, grubby humanity, for still occasionally managing to snatch my jaded breath away.

pavlov's cat

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lest i forget, change is hard on everyone in the household.

we had our routine down, maggie and i.  for the longest time i'd roll outta bed at 11:15 or so, fill her bowls with food and water, shower, throw on some clothes and, as the last thing before leaving for work--and to her eternal displeasure--put her and her bowls outside.

as i set the bowls down, i'd reach over to give her a goodbye pat and she'd recoil, hissing--a knife through my heart, but only briefly, because i knew that by the time i got home that night, all would be (mostly) forgiven.

same routine like clockwork, every day for years.

flash-forward to now:  new job starts at 5, but i still roll outta bed by 11:15 most days.  and like always, first thing i do is fill maggie's bowls with food and water.

a few days into our new routine, i realize she's not eating--when i put her bowls outside at 4:45 prior to leaving for work, they're still mostly full, and i don't understand this.

until, a week or so later, i get it.

the next day, i roll outta bed at 11:15 or so, fill her bowls, pick 'em up and head for the door--damn cat precedes me, hissing happily all the way.  an hour or so after angrily dining al fresco, she's back in for a purr and a rub.

it's true--pets really are as fucked-up as their owners.