Unlaxed

Mike, may he be praised and adored, has brought over a massage table.  Katie took pictures of my face ‘anging through the ‘ole.  She is still here, wonderfully enough, and we’re noshing on leftover pizza and fried rice I just made and there are two pieces of dynamite sushi left.

Sorry, must go – my country needs me.

Does anybody have any idea why an Argus was flying around Vancouver?

Kopper and I saw it on Saturday.  Freaked the hell out of me… watching a long remaindered aircraft, which your father hunted Russian subs in, flying around Vancouver is right up there on the weirdity scale.  UPDATE

Oh, it was an Aurora.  Okay, nothing to see here.

Snow and fog

There’s another FOUR INCHES on the ground up here.  You can barely see across the street. Tanya from work just called me on my cell to tell me it’s slippery as hell so I gotta burn ass out of here to work – she says nobody is even answering on switchboard, which sucks at 7:30 am.

Tetris made of people

Quite literally, what it says.

It’s snowing again. 

Daughter Katie’s coming over this afternoon and We Will, We Will Deadwood.  Hopefully the transit system is up to the task of getting her here.

I found a hilarious critique of Libertarianism on line.

Last night I dreamed I was back in the High Park area of Toronto.  I guess I’m sick of looking at stucco houses.  I miss many things about Toronto; I miss seeing the CN Tower and I miss a lot of the friends I have there (Tammy, Catherine, Dave, Jan and others).  I miss Kensington Market the way it was, I miss the colour of Lake Ontario on a windy fall day, I miss being able to ice skate outside in the wintertime.

Sometimes I wish I could live in three places at once, because there are things I miss about Montreal too.  I miss the Dorval circle and the absolutely craziness of the town when the festivals like the Jazz festival and Just For Laughs were on; I miss how people dress with more style and drive with more verve (and frankly, consistently better than the unwashed hordes of incompetents who adorn the roads in Vancouver); I miss being able to hear Inuktitut spoken in the street; I miss skating in La Centre de la Nature in Laval, the best outdoor skating venue in Canada; I miss the wild variety of the weather, even.

One thing and another

Still… migraining.  It comes and goes.  Hopefully by the time I toddle off with Kopper (shoot, nearly typed ‘Kipper’) to see Hecuba it will be entirely lifted.

Funny picture. 

I actually practiced last night.  Given how terrible I was (I could not finish A SINGLE song without fluffing words or chords or both) I think I will be pencilling in a lot more practice between now and Conflikt.

I will sit right down, waiting for the gift of sound and vision

Yesterday I saw a Youtube video shot by Rob Sawyer of Neil Gaiman in a blue tech gown holding a panda.  This would not be in any way particular odd, except somebody put The Tubes’ Don’t Touch Me There as the soundtrack, which is screechingly hilarious.  And it reminds me of my first husband, who still doesn’t have internet access, ack, gargle.

Yesterday I ran across this incredible piece of inane bs.  I am posting the link only so I can imagine Debbie screeching, “Who does this guy think he is???? Maternal love only lasts 33 months???” The funny part is that some of it is fairly good, but the writing style makes me think that this dude’s not playing with a full emotional deck. Anyway, maternal love lasts as long as the oxytocin hit you get when you see your kid or hear their voice on the phone or get a letter or email from them lasts.  And that, as we mothers know, is a long time.  And if they crawl into bed with you for a nap or because they’ve had a nightmare, even if they’re 14, it makes for a feeling of emotional sweetness that is hard to beat.  This dude doesn’t get the oxytocin thing.  Too bad for him!!!  Oh, and I know that men can love longer than 42 months.  I’ve seen it.

Yesterday morning I was so angry that I wanted to kick every man I know down a flight of stairs, with the exception of Paul, Keith, John, Jeff, my dad and Jarmo – and maybe the guy who cleans my apartment building who’s an exceptionally nice man. Okay, maybe Parm at Renaissance Coffee.  Shoot… I forgot Glenn and Mike; Tom, Tom U., ack, Brian C, Jim E.  Okay, I was mad at one particular man and things were kind of spilling over…  Then a man walked up to me and said, “Do you need a hug?”  and I went “Aw!” Just think, that huggy guy doesn’t understand how much carnage he averted.  Either that or he broke the glass labelled “What to do in case Allegra’s pulling her crap again.”

Yesterday I phoned my dad and said, “They changed the laws.  It’s time.”  Actually, I told my mother that, she’s more tactful than I am.   pOp was working until his 70th birthday as a crossing guard (note, employment not exactly as shown), and he really misses it.

Yesterday I got Himalayan Peaks takeout and it was completely yummy.

Yesterday evening I got on the phone with the guy I’m so mad at, and we squared things away.  I should just quit getting mad.  It never lasts; it never accomplishes anything.

Soon I’m going to see some live theatre, which reminds me I should get off my keester and see if Kopper got tickets or whether I ought to or not.  And soon, singing on Monday nights.  Happy sigh.

I am still flashing on Ville dancing to Safety Dance on Dance Dance Revolution. He repeated it about 15 times so I’m having a hell of a time shaking it, and the little flash of Morris Dancers in the background keeps coming up as well.

I am looking at my stannomancy and thinking…. There’s a waterbird. And a leg. And a wedding (which I already knew about because Shannon and Jerome are getting married).