just when you think your Jack Russell Terrier is brainy, bronte goes and rushes at two small concrete ugly garden ornaments, dog and duck, obviously inanimate, not even to scale. She jumped onto the wobbly table to sniff them out. “Are you embarrassed? You should be.” boynton remarked.

Went to a supermarket for diversion last night. Of course it may be the biggest in the Southern Hemisphere. This is part of the dreaded Victoria Gardens complex with its apartments cinemas and Swedish furniture store. For most of last century the site was occupied by the massive Vickers Ruwolt factory. Travelling into the city from the east as you crossed the river and the cutting you drove through a vast industrial tunnel of manufacturing heritage, the neon signs of The Skipping Girl and Coppertone flashing away mutely on the opposite side. (Alas: no links, no photos to this old “landmark”) Then for years it was a bomb site, with the promises from developers inflating like the giant branded balloons that now point you to Coles or Kmart along the rooftop.
So last night Nora and boynton decided to run down the street and get some milk, (it being located almost midway between our two houses) and drove up into to the empty concrete colossus of carpark. There was an immediate feel of Jacques Tati’s Playtime, (one of boynton’s favourite films) with its prematurely opened restaurant sequence. All a bit Not Quite Ready, unsteady. The carpark was all scattered witches hats and orange netting, stairs with gaps, empty lift shafts. There was a pyramid of loose signs that said “shops” with an arrow, presumably to be installed, (or maybe it was an installation). Inside was much the same – did we miss the grand opening? Workers were busy adding the preliminary touches. Nora saw a caulking gun at work along the surfaces of the already functioning fish shop. There was a kind of brand new litter floating about the non-place of mall as we walked through to the supermarket (discover an amazing array of smallgoods), and bought a light globe and milk respectively. As we found our way back to the yellow carpark, boynton noted that the roof would be a good place to view the New Year’s fireworks over the city skyline, if it has not yet been marked off for some corporate fest, on top of the ghost of Melbourne manufacturing past.

boynton was delighted to learn that her recent Google Poem has been included in the (ongoing) anthology. Leevi Lehto's Google Poem engine is such a wonderful, metaphoric thing.

the way small country towns of 200 people could field a brass band, or stage a cricket match almost from scratch.
In the photographs of reclining gents you can substitute bats for trumpets, cornets for stumps
Nineteenth century lower case community.

cricket and poetry at cordite (via Invisible Shoebox - comments)

Smoke in the air from a controlled burn gone wrong. Boynton saw the fire last night as she travelled home from Castlemaine. It was the last day of the biennial Festival and she did a few exhibitions, unlike previous years when she was able to see more shows over the ten days. One of the highlights was seeing Julie Millowick's A Year in Our Lives - a narrative in photograms. (This can now be seen at Span in Melbourne). Boynton loves the way text and (personal) narrative are woven into the imagery.
Anil Dash recently linked to a new application for annotating photos - personal home image mapping?
A great Found Photo Collection here (via Speckled Paint)
(and this is why the found appeals.)
And an idle search for Castlemaine turned up this great site of photos of Australian Brass Bands. (Boynton could almost put together an "image map" herself of favourite Victorian places depicted by their old brass bands.)

Yesterday’s Blue Skies midi file was found on this excellent children’s site by the US National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences. Boynton immediately went to the”favourites” menu and found this old fave song. But as is often the way on the web, she “can't take her eyes off” the hyperlink, and it seems that one of the purposes of the web site is to embed health information in the content. This is a novel idea, and Boynton has attempted her own medical hyperlinking for the second verse:

Pardon the way that I stare,
There's nothing else to compare,
The sight of you leaves me weak;
There are no words left to speak.
But if you feel like I feel,
Please let me know that it's real.
You're just too good to be true,
Can't take my eyes off of you.

When Melbourne turns on a beautiful Saturday like this, it's no time for bloggin. This cloud bursting game (via b3ta) reflects the spirit of the blue skies bounty. So Boynton was out walking with a friend, soaking up the sunshine, before Doug - that's Derg - bounded down into the river and couldn't climb out. So Boynton managed eventually to haul him out and roll him back up the cliff, muddying clothes and mood temporarily. She would now gratuitously link to the song "My Brown Yarra" were such a link to be found.

a little bit of seabiscuit searching/dunking resulted in finding this Shirley Temple Concentration. Boynton confesses she found it difficult - perhaps it was her recent scrambled state of mind. Which is why she didn't even go near the Scramble or Solve Puzzle. The disintegration of the happy picture was just too resonant with something to handle, or even attempt to restore

Boynton has been gratified by the support shown in regard to the strange mirror/clone/class clown/blogger bug incident of April 1st. Thank you.
(She's thinking of adding a new damsel-in-distress line to the range, with the one word plaintive appeal to the blogosphere). Next step would appear to be to email Blogger - although that has a touch of the email-the-big-chief-in-the-sky-and-expect-a-reply about it. Another disturbing incident: a recent visitor from Greece came to boynton via the google search: tiger lillies download Over you...As if the blog is generating her fate!...Of course a French aol search for Cat woman also directs vistors here first... Mais oui, bien sur - we can run with that!

HaloScan and Sitemeter both being down (and lost) and slowing us up impossibly, a bit of non-linkage canine tale is possibly our best bet today anyway.
Yesterday, on the impulse, over at Nora’s, boynton decided to walk down to the small sleepy shopping strip and do the hair deed there in the semi-cool salon that sits on the corner. So having the procedure formerly known as “trim” and now spoken of as a “clean it up” and with no one in the salon or indeed the streets outside, boynton endowed hairdresser as confessor. But instead of recent tribulations, we talked dog. Such salon small talk is boynton’s ideal. He told of how his red heeler has only now, after x many years, accepted his wife without undue jealousy. Boytnon replied that luckily she had never had this problem with her gentleman callers (or perhaps this is unluckily) There were however, certain men he was “funny” with. “They always know” he said. Possible new method, Doug as heart divining-dog or “canary”… He also told me a wonderful thing. Not long ago while walking dogs, boynton had seen two stray dogs, but heading towards main roads she had to yell at them to stay (she acted aggressive). They appealed desperately, pathetically but there was nothing to do...Turns out the hairdresser found them, put them in the pound, found a bottle of wine on his doorstep the next day from the overjoyed owner who lived a fair way (and high way) away. That’s the sort of man you want to “clean up” your hair.
After this took Doug to vet for his annual booster. Approaching 14 everything now is assessed as practical or not in terms of mortality. Is it worth getting his booster, his new registration etc. The vet gave him a “clean bill of health” (let clean = $84)
I’d be expecting at least another year out of him. Boynton laughs casually and puts on this pragmatic detached hat as the only possible one to wear in the circumstances.
This was followed by a late emergency run to another vet last night. Delicacy etc prevents her from going into details here, suffice to say a tablet was put into his eye to induce vomiting. It seems to have half worked, and we’re standing by. (possibly literally over the next few days!) Of course on top of the refuse pile was his freshly administered expensive worm tablet from earlier vet visit… The vet was English and called him “Derg” and recommended “courgettes" for another disgusting habit of his.
“Oh Derg, Derg” she said as she stroked him “You’re a silly lump” “Yes he is” boynton replied, “A stupid stupid lump”… (which is why of course she lervs him)

(American) Races on the radio (via The Writing Life - with links and personal context)
Fascinating to hear the cultural differences in race-calling., although perhaps this has as much to do with the vintage as the nationality.
Boynton tried to find a local equivalent, and while this site seems to have audio files, it may be for connections faster than boynton’s. (The one to hear is Bill Collins’ call of the 1986 Cox Plate.)
Of course, you say Seabiscuit we say Phar Lap.
The greatest-horse-ever race stakes discussed here and here
Shirely Temple in The story of Seabiscuit 1949. (" Pretty average film, but Temple is good...(and) has a mysteriously inconsistent brogue)

Help! What do you do when someone pinches your blog? And your blogroll? And your comments? Not an april one joke we fear.

Top April fool's Day hoaxes (via J Walk)

The wonderful Kodak girl site - photos, ads, posters ephemera. (via Quiddity 29/3)
Boynton particularly loves the extensive snapshot collection, leading through to the “annotated snapshots” group…In a few cases, someone has jotted down a tantalizing tidbit on the back, piquing our imagination Not wishing to jump the frame here and link directly, this is an example of one such caption: I think this one looks just like you

Boynton has often seen the British film The Way We Live screening in the wee ABC hours, and was delighted to find this illustrated summary amongst many wonders on Steve Johnson’s cyber-heritage site. (via Speckled Paint). One of the stills is boynton’s own favourite, that she once planned to employ on a web site ( her own futuristic plan). It is from the film’s triumphal march of the banner-carrying Plymouth youth. Less Monotony Please. Good motto for a blog.

obs on snobs. Gummo Trotsky's first Snob of the Week, and a review of Snobbery the American Version at A Sunny Place For Shady People.

Readers of this blog and others that use Haloscan may have noticed the wipe out yesterday. The white screen of Mute. Boynton's head sort of matched so it didn't worry her excessively. A blogging sabbath was enforced. The word from Haloscan is High Traffic because of a couple war and politics-related weblogs that use our commenting system that have skyrocketed in traffic because of the war. This is slightly less unsettling than the previous explanation of last month: we started getting massive packet loss suddenly. (If we don't buy it, guess it's because we don't buy it)
For those of us who have yet to assimilate that techno speak into ordinary jargon, a sudden massive packet loss sounds intriguing. (If it has taken minutes for this page to load, boynton suggests you visit the following links prudently) Technically, packet loss may be indeed be this, but boynton still expects to read about a maritime disaster. And as for Ping - this is only reading of Ping that is imprinted on boynton's brain. And finally this graph is supposed to illustrate human perception of packet loss, but this response seems much more realistic.

neither a wit nor a flat Boynton went looking for her source of that archaic slang mentioned casually in a recent post, where to be a “flat” means the opposite of “wit”. She finally tracked it down in one of her most precious books, Physiognomical Chart by J.D. Simms, 1872. This is in the style of the great pseudo texts of the era, like this wonderful digital version. Comparisons to animal faces are commonly used to substantiate the theory that physicality reflects character. In Boynton’s book there is a scale of 1 to 10 of the disposition, and each has been scored by the reader, with further tables at the back, marked by the author, on October 11th 1882. Much like a web quiz, we get a profile of this Melbourne resident, who seems to have safely aimed for the middle on each “faculty”. Boynton’s father bought this book for her when she was a child, because of the pictures. (As a child, she drew compulsively) but now she loves it just as much for the words, the fabulous words that Word doesn’t recognise . For instance :
aquasorbitiveness – appreciation and love of water drinking…bathing etc
sonidiffusitiveness- the capacity of producing or making a sound or musical tone with the mouth
solicitusreputatutiveness – an innate wish for the favourable opinions of others
pyshiodelectatiousness – the disposition and inclination for sensual delights
factimemoriativeness- the factulty of retaining previously attained knowledge
characteriospicity – the power of penetrating and understanding the character of others
philomonotopicalness- the affection for one place, or, habit of becoming attached to one situation or locality
etc etc. The flat/wit reference comes under the category of salitiveness – "the power of seizing on thoughts and occurrences, and presenting them in a laughable manner" because if your score 6 on the scale you're informed:
" you can discern the difference between witticism and Atticism, and can enjoy the quick-witted whom you meet; yet you are neither a wit nor a flat."
If in 1882 you’d marked number 2 : You cannot make a pun, and of course, are very slow to comprehend one from another and even at number 5 you’d still be warned: "you had better avoid any attempt to pun, or play upon words, as your failures will excite more laughter than your hits.
For each extreme there is advice on how to be middling. Even though she doesn’t resemble the drawing of salitiveness large (Mark Twain) or even Merriness large (Sam Slick)Boynton will hereafter heed: "To restrain the talent and Appreciation of Mirth:- Cease from that perpetual giggling and laughing at every trifle, especially as it lowers you in the estimation of more grave characters; read metaphysical works and especially those of earnest reasoners, and enter fully into their spirit; choose sober, staid and dignified companions"
Better scout about the blogosphere to find more of the grave, the staid and the sober metaphysical company.

Boynton was half thinking of a haircut when she read this Elegy from Ovid: To his mistress, who, contrary to his counsel, dyed her hair with noxious compositions, and has nearly become bald. From The Love Books of Ovid (via Plep)
This man is pleased his wife chose the flip, so he didn't flip out, in the classic Caroline No hair-cut response.
The very long haired seven Sutherland sisters adopted this solution

Friday ususally sees boynton off to the op-shop thrifting, but today she has been arrested by a common cold. More than ordinary heartbreak, general sorrow or average despair, a common cold blocks the humour reflex. Nothing seems funny today. But were she to hop down to the op-shop, she'd keep an eye out for some thrift store art like those displayed at this seminal collection. (via Speckled Paint)
The site's collector/curator has "the "packrat" gene... that causes one to search for, acquire, collect, and accumulate the meaningless objects cast off by society" but space consraints forced him to specialise "I mean, really; how many kitschy 50's dish sets, "Incredibly Strange" albums, Pee Wee Herman dolls, old bowling trophies, or pulp-fiction paperbacks does one person need?" (Boynton has lost count of the number of old bowling, tennis and netball trophies she has "let go" - almost collected over the years) This is another site to return to in in April, when the download limits go. In the meantime she'll just sneak a look here and there.
(Boynton's cold head is so unsharp, blunt or "flat" as they used to describe those way down the nineteenth century wit-less scale, that it took her about 20 edits just to get this post looking reasonably normal. Light blogging ahead)

The muse has returned. As Boynton was cycling up to CERES to meet some long lost friends, along the Merri creek, the new play was running through her head. (Is there some link between cycling and writing?) Ideas brewing.
At the café there was an apple on a plate, like a novel table decoration Very CERES observed x. (or Very Serious, as boynton heard it. Both work)
The last time boynton visited ceres was in the dead of winter, the coldest day of the year. So cold, that boynton and friend, after shivering over tea, had to hot foot it back to our bikes, to work up some warmth. Let’s get the hell out of here! he said.
Today was all autumnal splendour, or Autumn Joy, the flower we admired in the nursery.Riding back, climbing up to Clifton Hill, seeing the hazy city, it was all autumn joy, the beginning of a new cycle.