Month: July 2008

The Soft Collision

That’s what this Cassini movie is called.

Last night Katie and I got together for more resume magic.  We thoroughly reviewed it and then printed out 40 copies.  At one point during the evening she curled up on the couch with me and I got kinda nostalgic about the other times we curled up on the sofa watching  Buffy, you know, back in the good old days when my (Ed: enough of that, now!) – well erm, uh.  Nostalgia, the curse of humanity (points if you know which Dunnett book I swiped that from).

Keith was over too, his job is going reasonably well.

We all ate pork chomps, expertly cooked by Jeff, and broccoli and corn and garlic bread.

It’s not like Jeff and I have been wishing that the people downstairs would magically disappear or anything, but I guess telling them in writing that the domestic violence and partying on weeknights until 3:30 am had actually penetrated our thick skulls was TOO MUCH for them, so they told the landlord we were crazy and made incredible amounts of noise and gave their notice yesterday.

I hope they get counselling.  I remember overhearing Amber say to her girlfriends when they were outside partying last Monday that she wished she could have a relationship where she could just call him and tell him where she was going – and she sounded amused and resigned, not bitter or resentful.  Erk.  I think he’s too smart to actually hit her but their fights were screaming repetitively I’m done with you and making so much noise with the furniture that it sounded like pianos being pushed off balconies.  Of course, the people who move in next could be worse, but I’m thinking that if the landlord has the sense to tell the incoming tenants that our schedule is 5:30 am to about 10:30 pm, 7 days a week, he’ll be able to cull the party animals from the herd.

Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s a landlord’s market in Vancouver right now.  Tony the landpeer can set the bar really high if he wants to, and he likely should try. Gentrification strikes again, and affordable housing is vanishing.

The saddest thing about them moving is Dezi and the dog.  Dezi’s the 4 year old.  A sweet thing, but whiny.  Meadow, OMG Meadow is a sweet sweet dog, and she came up yesterday and hung with me and Jeff as we had our Frostees on the back deck.  She curled up under Jeff’s chair and visibly winced when her master called her – repeatedly – and only went downstairs, throwing reproachful glances over her shoulder with every step when I softly encouraged her to go on home. What will happen to them, God alone at his eye-window knows.  (Points for the Dunnett reference… again).

pix

Eddie inspecting the baggage; one of the eagles at the launching point; launching the boat, note position of exhaust; Sugar.  Sugar fell asleep on me on Sunday immediately after the ceremony.  I must have smelled great – I was attacked by a bee when Cindy dropped me off.

We haz the cool

  • I will never be cool in THAT sense, but I can certainly praise the thrice blessed Jeff, who got an air conditioner yesterday.  It made living at Geekhaven Beta a damned sight more pleasant – it was fracking hot.  Eddie was all over it.
  • I will resist the blandishments of my naturist friends today and NOT go to Wreck Beach.  Jarmo & Co and Mike will be off there today but I simply have too much life maintenance to do, and then Jeff and I will go pic-a-nic someplace, maybe. Depends how appealing it is to stay where there’s a steady stream of cold air.
  • Lawrence H, one of my coworkers, saw a Dall’s porpoise out in the Strait on Saturday.  It was just part of how awesome it all was, the trip from Vancouver to Victoria.
  • Victoria, approached from the ocean on a hot day, has a mesmerizingly beautiful scent of hot, sweet pine.  NO not like Pine Sol.  A magical, resiny gorgeousness that lifts on the breeze and drowns one in anticipation.  As drfilk noted, “Well, that’s better than I thought it would smell.”
  • I sang much of the way there, as much nautical stuff as I could remember, which isn’t much, but thanks to my mother and father I know all of the lyrics to at least one version of “The Eddystone Light”.
  • I learned last night that somebody I never talk to at work (I don’t sit with him at lunch anymore) thinks I’m a great performer.  Now I am thinking “When the hell did I ever play in front of him? And PS, thanks.”
  • Oh, is the rent due?
  • My rear end still hurts from the trip there. A little.  Not like Sunday morning, when my parents were giggling at me every time I sat down and squawked.  My back isn’t great but I know walking will fix it.
  • I have to water my plants; they got a good soaking Saturday morning but they are droopy as hell, as container plants are in this kinda heat.
  • Robof9 took pics of his wife’s work.  She is a professional plant person.  Sheesh, I guess that makes her a horticulturist… anyway, 100000 plants that she grew all needed watering on Sunday and he took pics and I await them happily.
  • Next post, various pics.  Be prepared..
  • I have booked a Can Car to deal with the box situation.
  • I think I need a summer weight housecoat.
  • For those who might be nervous on his account, Paul survived the last round of layoffs at his work.
  • The folks downstairs, in an effort to avoid us, have taken to smoking cigarettes indoors. For me this is annoying, due to my disturbed relationship with tobacco; for Jeff it is nauseating and hopelessly rude.
  • I participated in a Pagan ceremony on Sunday.  I am still processing it. When asked to pray I directed my energy towards a good outcome for somebody I despise, in an effort to cultivate both mindfulness and compassion.  The notion of praying for myself when I’m so comfortably settled with life the universe and everything (occasional bitchiness and annoyance with incompetence aside) was not on.  Runnerwolf was very specific about saying, “If you’re praying for somebody else, always pray for the best outcome – something concrete might not be what’s required for the person you’re praying for.” The psychology of this seems wise; you have formed an intention without becoming attached to the result, which is better than petitioning the lord with a laundry list of ‘want-its’ and then getting miffed when they don’t come to pass.  Funny story: she used popcorn instead of dry corn for ceremony once, with entirely predictable results come time to put the bundle in the ceremonial fire.
  • I know what copal and frankincense and myrrh look like now.
  • Why would an atheist bother with all that?  Because of Tennyson (oops, nearly said Donne)
    I am a part of all that I have met;
    Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
    Gleams that untravell’d world,