Alex will be at church with Katie, or so it was arranged and I piously hope will come to pass. I do coffee today so it’s even money whether or not I get to be upstairs for the homily portion. Sue is taking me in early and I’ll do an inventory and see if there’s enough of whatnot for coffee etc., then cross the street and pick it up. Happy daze. Should be a good homily though. Marilyn asked me to do another homily for January 4 – one of the worst attended days of the year – so I’m going to do what I can to boost the numbers. If you’re reading this, why not come to church that day!!??
THE GREAT YULETIDE COOKIEPALOOZA happens next Friday. It will turn into a filk. A messy messy housefilk, with crumbs and greasy thumbprints on the music. Yes, indeed. Thanks to Tom and Peggy for hosting. We will also have the AMERICAN CONTINGENT, being the uber crafty Jeri-Lynn and the suavely geeky Jeff. Who are just so awesome. Cindy and possibly others will attend also.
It’s raining. After yesterday’s glorious sun (which I got to walk around in, thanks to Paul not understanding that the Brighton Costco parking lot at 11 am is the worst fucking place in the known universe and how long precisely has he been living in Burnaby grumble grumble, but no harm done). I drove through the parking lot and then drove back to Planet Bachelor and walked home from there, accompanied by Keith who just felt like continuing the conversation, which was pleasant, and made the walk back go in an eyeblink. I needed the exercise. I really wanted to pick some stuff up at Costco because there’s some bread there I can’t find anywhere else plus cheap butter and you know, baking, but perhaps I can borrer the car. Apart from the walk and the abortive Costco trip I basically stayed in bed crying all day, but I’m feeling much better now. Tammy is coming in December! Conflikt 8 (I can scarcely credit it…) is coming! And I still haven’t registered or figured out how I am getting there. If I’m staying extra long I may need to like, bus it. Bleaaugh.
I love my mOm and pOp. mOm provided the correct stream of unfiltered bubbliness (occasionally going off mike to inform pOp of my responses) to assist with my bad case of the Marthambles – why, she’s better than a dose of Dr. Tufts finest elixir.
Still no cat. I suspect what has happened is that the daughter has flung herself on the ground and pleaded her mom not to let Autumn go and the mom has been too embarrassed to tell Jeff she’s changed her mind, but perhaps Jeff is right and it’s just taking longer than expected. Sometimes I think this culture is so indulgent to its children because these are the last good days and everybody’s trying to make them seem extra special.
I removed an incredible amount of hair surplus to requirements from Margot yesterday. She was not amused.
Day five of Vitamin D, Vitamin C, B6, probiotics and MSM. I am definitely feeling less achey, except for my hands, which is making me not want to play my Otto.
Jeff’s playing computer games on line with somebody, I assume Andrew – I can hear him talking to somebody on the headset. “I think we just combined to kill one of our own tanks!” is the latest.
With sadness, I have cancelled the piano lessons. He wasn’t listening to my course corrections and I’m not paying a man $35 bucks an hour to ignore me when I can have it for free any time I want on the internet.
My most recent painting is an unmitigated disaster. I am going to paint over it. I got the colours right but the design has much suckage – I think I’ll paint over it as a zombie heart.
Now to make a chocolate cake for church and figure out what I am going to wear. And I have to remember to take a tape measure, for I mean to measure some crania, I do, I do, for future hatmaking endeavours. Hats and spats. Cravats with cats. Fingerless gloves and pleather utility belts. I have to figure out how to make a living, and since there seems to be an inexhaustible interest in the steampunk aesthetic, I shall pursue that hobby for a while.
