My Ugly Cup for the office and the sad tale of how it became an Ugly Pen Holder

I'm a heavy coffee drinker and have become deeply attached to my various cups at home and in the office. I'm not sure it matters much what they look like originally -- some have been downright weird, others stunning. But usage soon gives them the beauty of familiarity.

Trouble is, whenever I've had a cup in the office that I'm particularly fond of, I either break it or it disappears. I finally realized on a trip to Florida some time back that what I really needed was an Ugly Cup. This gaudy mess, with my name printed in large (ugly) capital letters on the back and covered with alligators, beaches, palms and space shuttles seemed just the thing. For years it served its purpose -- the name successfully warded off poltergeists, and if that wasn't enough, there was the sheer ugliness as an added deterrent. And, hey -- if it broke, I could just throw away the pieces. I never lost it and drank my coffee out of it every day for eight years (I enjoyed the large capacity, too).

But I'm only human. One day I dropped it, putting into play the other function of an Ugly Cup -- in the event of inadvertent destruction, I could just sweep up the pieces and gladly be rid of this embarrassment. But with the tenacious survival instincts of a true Ugly Cup it refused to die. The handle snapped off neatly and the cup was otherwise unharmed. It would be wantonly callous to toss out such a hardy survivor.

That's why I now have an Ugly Pen Holder on my desk. (As for my new cup, it isn't ugly --just blah. A black cup with a little logo on it from the kitchen cabinet. Attachments to things are just too difficult.)

Driving into the light and into the sky

The bad news is that I drive east when I go to work -- which can be blinding on a sunny morning when the sun is low on the horizon (ditto in reverse on the way home). The good news is that on a partly cloudy day, the view can be magical and entrancing. This is Highway 12, east of Madison.

Standing by the frozen shore of Lake Wingra realizing my true winter nature

Standing by an icy Lake Wingra on the way to work, I realize that winter brings out my feline side. I just want to curl up by the heater and snooze. Summers, I'm more doglike.

My Nikon D90 lets me adjust most settings and operate the camera with my gloves on

The controls are intelligently laid and ergonomically satisfying. Better yet, you can pretty much make all the adjustments you want with gloves on -- a vital feature in this climate. On New Year's Day today, it was in the mid-twenties (F) but felt much colder on account of the windchill. I've always been willing to sacrifice my fingers for a good photograph, but my fingers thank the D90 for no longer having to make the choice. For example, I was able to turn on the Live View with one touch of a gloved finger. (I don't actually use Live View very much, as the focus sucks -- but I thought it would look good in the photo.)

Why do I think the glove thing matters? Because of sub-zero-windchill pictures like this.