Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
But now I really want to try Marshmallow Fluff.
Eddie made me howl with laughter about an hour ago. He draped his tail over the wireless keyboard in the living room and got the keyboard beep going off through the speakers in the big tv. Jeff is sitting up and his expression says, “What dat noise?” and then he gently removes the tail. Eddie continues to sit there regally. Oh I wish I were a cat.
It’s spring, and I am about to get maudlin, so goodnight.
I find it entertaining that the depression is being fostered “to destroy demand for oil until the rich people can figure out what to do.”
Right…..
Quoted from this morning…
For Likudniks to call Jimmy Carter a “bigot” is sort of like the Ku Klux Klan denouncing Nelson Mandela for racial insensitivity.
Way ta go, Juan.
Oh yea, church. The topic was Beyond Welcoming. In 2003-2004 Beacon went through the ‘Welcoming Congregation’ process. More info here. It’s a process where the entire congregation goes through examining homophobia and transphobia and all the hurtful, societal messages about the worth and dignity of LGBTIfolk. I was involved in that process as a facilitator (not to the extent Peggy was, but some) and I figured given the topic I’d better go. I really enjoyed the service, but didn’t hang around for the AGM afterwards.
It was raining in my inbox, too. Chipper sent this link, with the comment ‘looks like an animated floor mop’. The Luddite is threatening flour, with strawberries. (He has both in excess of requirements currently).
Jeff and I walked for about half an hour in the rain yesterday (wandered over to Jerome’s for the french fry cutter). We walked through a curtain of falling cherry blossoms, so I whistled “Sakura” while he scowled gently. I don’t think he’s ever going to get used to me bursting into song in public, and I guess he doesn’t have to. I should just stop, or find people who don’t immediately wish that I had the Nelson Riddle Orchestra hidden under a flowerpot as accompaniment.
Somebody asked permission to record the Tapioca Song. I said sure, and gave them the link to the music sheet on my site. Just to round things out, Paul says he made tapioca in the microwave a few days back. I accused him of being a barbarian. He says the trick is gentle heat. Hmph.
Edgar Kitty ran up and down the hallway like an insane thing early this morning. When he decided to slow down, he barfed. Repeatedly. In a tone I’ve never heard a cat use in barfing. Essentially, he has a basso profundo barf; imagine, if you will, that Ivan Rebroff is horking up a furball in a series of staccato coughs, and that is what Eddie sounds like. Jeff and I got up to deal with the menace to bathroom navigation that is kitty puke, and I’m still up eating brekky and watching the sun come up through a veil of cloud and rain. The kitties like it when I sit here as I don’t have to move to open the back door.
Watched Across the Universe and more Deadwood, after we got back from our nice drenching walk. Mind you, the dampness was mitigated when Jerome tucked some of Sergey and Megan’s salmon and veggies into my hand on the way out – they had it in excess of requirements and it was DAMNED good.