This is about the coolest thing I've seen in a long time. A wearable semi-robotic exoskeleton? That's freaking cool, y'all.
I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to live in a wheelchair. I can, though, imagine that people who are able to use this semi-robotic exoskeleton must be excited to do so. Sitting in a wheelchair is no picnic; it takes a serious toll on general overall health. Just the ability to stand upright has health benefits, but actually walking? Better.
I'll just bet that in 5 years this thing will be downsized, slimline, fully concealable beneath clothing, and implantable so that the rigorous donning of the suit is no longer needed.
Say Hi to the Borg, people. Resistance is futile.
Welp, the cat made it through the de-gondading procedure yesterday, and is now locked up nice and tight in the laundry room.
She doesn't much care for the being locked up bit.
Also? It's come to my attention that the laundry room holds much more than just mere laundry. Why, we keep the trash can in there, for instance. And the cereal, and blender, and dogfood catfood dogtreats cattreats potatoes rice.....
The problem with letting the cat out of the etcetera room is that the dog, who is curious by her very nature, wants to get all up in the cat's face, to perhaps engage in a little game of chase, to love all over the kitty (if she's in the mood for attention), and that's not what the cat needs right now. The cat needs to remain quiet, to be suave, dolce, pianissimo, to heal. Already, since picking her up at 6:45 last night, the cat has escaped the confines of the etcetera room and taken the dog on a bit of a run through the house.
Exactly what a freshly-spayed cat does not need.
Apparently though, the kitty is in no pain, or at the very least is not suffering unduly, because right at this moment she's clawing at the bottom of the laundry room door, growling with indignation. She's made a run for it once today, successfully zipping into the kitchen cabinets, where she goes to hid in the way back, behind the recycling, up high and in back.
It's going to be a very long two days of keeping her dolce, methinks.
Might rain here today.
That? Would be awesome.
In the Things You Probably Don't Need to Know About Tiff category:
I read "For Better or for Worse" every day. Elizabeth just got married y'all! It's exciting! But what's going to happen to Grandpa? he's in the hospital; had a heart attack the morning of the wedding, and though the docs say he's going to pull through, it's only a matter of time before he kicks it, what with having had an MI before and then there was the stroke....
It's enough to drive a girl crazy.
Don't tell me that you hate this strip, please. It's my little soap opera, it's well drawn, it's temporal, and it's occasionally funny, just like real life. It's engaging, if you stick with it, and Lynne Patterson moves things along many story lines so that you're not stuck with the same ol' same ol' all the time.
Also on the must-read comix list for me are
9 Chickweed Lane
Clear Blue Water
Occasionally I'll dip into other comical waters to see if they're to my liking, but pretty much I stick with this core.
Confession time: I used to read 'Cathy,' but it just got to the point where she and Irving were so obnoxiously stupid about consumerism that I had to quit her. Plus which? The same three topics, over and over and over again gets old after about 30 years. She's had my time, but now I have better things to do with it than wonder why Cathy doesn't have boobs and why she listens to those sales clerks' fashion tips.
To tie this one up, yesterday afternoon I stumbled on what might be the grossest internet site I've ever seen.
It appears to be a compendium of shocking photos of murders, autopsies, tortures, executions, and gory accidents. For a moment it was fascinating, and as someone who doesn't get squicked out easily it was almost entertaining, but somewhere along the line a shark got jumped and the fascinating turned into revolting.
I'd tell you which photo it was that turned my stomach, but just describing it makes me nauseated. Trust me, you do NOT want to know.
So, I guess I've found my limit for oddities. It sits squarely on the corner of 'surgery' and 'dysmorphia.' You can leave violence right the hell on out.
How about you? What are YOUR limits?
With that, it's Tiff out. Have yourselves a marvelous twosdey.