Month: October 2008

steamed lamb

….actually I ate kleftico and then the Luddite and I popped over to Hastings Steam and Sauna. This time, it being ever so much colder outside than the last time, I steamed for a GOOD long time, and now my back feels much better, thanks.  It’s kinda odd doing something like that with somebody you’re no longer romantically involved with, but as usual the Luddite cracked me up any number of times, and it was all very light hearted and fun, and he’d never been so it was pleasant to introduce him, and this time I remembered to get an extra towel because once my hair is wet there’s simply too much of me for one towel, and it’s only a buck extra.  None of the evening was planned; we didn’t even know where we were going to eat until I got in his pig of a 1980 Toyota diesel truck (I tease, I’m actually quite fond of that vehicle, although I don’t know how much longer the Luddite will be able to stretch not replacing the windscreen).  And it’s only 10:18, so I’m going to sleep and something tells me I will sleep well and long. Oh, and he had Ecuadorean chocolate with him.  Looxshury!

Forgot to mention…

I had an AMAZING session with Anne the mandolin teacher last night, and I think it is possible I may learn to read music before the end of my sorryass life.  She says she will take it as slow as it needs to be; after forcing me to do sight reading we relax with me playing rhythm mandolin while I learn new tunes – in different time signatures, even!

She also wants to move lessons to Friday nights, and I’m good to go with that; I always seem to end up doing my heavy drinking on Saturdays and weeknights.  Specially Tuesdays and Thursdays.  Dunno why that always happens.

The Barque of Concord hits a rock

I guess I tried to explain to Jeff prior to moving in that I make a lot of noise when I am singing and writing songs and that it can get quite annoying.  His response was that he could wear headphones. Well, last night I was working on a tune and he told me to be quiet because what I was doing was annoying him. It was plenty annoying, but I had warned him.  I dunno.  I hadn’t worked on a tune or come up with anything new in yonks, and only being exposed to the brutal indifference of previous roommates and other relatives prevented me from curling into a fetal ball at his disapproval.  When I was living with Paul and the kids I’d get that annoying at least a couple of times a week – I guess Jeff is unaware of the extent he’s been spared my usual behaviour.  I have been unusually quiet.

tick

tick

tick

I will be looking for rehearsal space, I guess, and once I calm down, other possibilities. It’s too bad that it’s now officially too effing cold to play outdoors.

Keith came by and picked up his phone.  What a turkey I am!  I didn’t even know it had a camera in it.  Mine’s kinda like a little rubber brick and all it has is Mah Jong and Tetris and Bejeweled and Sudoku to while away the time.

Anguish

Daxus just proposed to Katie on Facebook, and she accepted.

a very long paragraph deleted.

This is all my fault for not being a better parent.

Well, I guess love’s gonna conquer everything.

Excuse me, I have to go throw up now.

ScaryClown dines here

ScaryClown was here for dinner; he was fed buffalo sloppy joes, and he had seconds, lord love him. Also, I received from the mysterious and everedgy Mike (everybody’s favourite chinky chinaman) a call which said, “Guess where I am?” to which the answer could only be “Wreck Beach, you wretch”.

I send glories and posies, firelight and starlight and the light of the borealis, the light of the sea in the night as your oar goes through it, to Chipper, and she knows why.

I light a candle for Juliana and her efforts, and her album.

I light a candle for Carrie and her peregrinations.

For Tanya, and she knows why.

For Patricia, and she knows why.

For Peggy, in her trials with Tom and her usual daily challenges; I quail at the notion of carrying such a load myself, and can only love.

For my mother, and her traversing the dual canyons of the annual checkup and the dead and dying relatives; for my father in his travails without question or comment.

For my grandmother, may she pass into machine intelligence and live forever in the annals of my family, for gold, for good, forever.

For Mr Music and the sleeping giant he imagines into life.

For my cousins; Alex, Alyssa, Darcy, Shauna, Katherine, & John, and Gerald, of course, and his kin.

For my coworkers, Salmon Man, Cristian, Prashant, Jeff, Jenn, Hardeep, Joe, Gianna, Dale, Andy, Heather, Mike B, Mike M, Sandy, Robof9, Peter T, Al Karim, Francis, LTGW, Lindsay, Mel, Graham, Inne, Jeff, Bill.  Chris and Ky and Zari of course.

For the downstairs tenants, may they increase in health and strength.

For my Unca Dave, may he live forever in song, story, fable and myth.

For Lucile.

For Lois, Ruth and their close kin.

For Lady Miss B and her loved ones. For Dr. Filk, Swampy and Maggie.

For Suzanne.

For the ladies (and for the occasional lad) who lunch. All hail Dunnett.

For Spider Robinson and Academie Duello.

For Tammy.

For Rev Katie, and Pope Mary.

For David J. D. and the hard road he set me on,

For Alan.

For the hidden, the unreal, the unseen, for the lies which spin themselves into truth, the stories which harden into tradition, the festivals which anchor human life from one season to the next, a candle, and a warning.

For Keith, for Kate and their dad, Paul, candles, and blessings.

For the people I love and don’t speak of; for the people I hate and don’t speak of.

For my brother Jeff.

Give my head a shake, if I can’t do it for me….

I can really tell I’m upset about no more NCIS – I found myself going to fanfic sites this morning.  And… backing away slowly.  Do I really – I mean really – want to read Gibbs-on-DiNozzo slashfic?  It is to heave.  Gibbs/Abby?  Tempting, but no.  On the other hand, Salmon Guy returned my S1 Deadwood box, so I could go back to Deadwood if I wanted to.

My nose has stopped running and now I’m coughing.  A dry, hacking cough.  The next week will be joyous; I remember thinking about a month ago that it had been bloody ages since I was really sick with something.  Note to back:  Please keep improving somewhat.  I’m experiencing less pain, although I nearly went ass over teakettle down the stairs at Production Way Station yesterday morning when my leg partly buckled, so I guess I need to work on some muscle strength.  Patricia recommends running in water. Anyway, I thought “all those kids will break my fall’ – the station is jammed at that time of day – but you KNOW it never works out like that in real life – the stuff you don’t break bruises to the bone, and my back already hurts, and I don’t do pain well.  I’ve learned my lesson; I have to go down the stairs with my hand floating a couple of inches above the handrail, just in case.  The one day I thought I could go down the stairs in the middle I learned that my earlier caution was entirely justified.  Then I think about my grandmother, and I figure it’s time for me to shaddap.

Tonight, Sloppy Joes, if I can remember to ask my bro to get nice, structurally sound buns for dinner, and spaghetti if not.  Can you believe it? Katie came through and the macaroni is all gone AND she ate dinner.  Honestly cooking to make leftovers around here is hazardous. We either get bored of it or it vanishes into Katie’s piehole before we even have a chance to get bored of it.

I light a candle for Tom, who’s back in hospital.

I light a candle for Jeff, for being understanding.

Today, in anticipation of funds, I got all high on consumerism

And bought a phone, because it was PISSING ME OFF, yes, I think in a week I will still feel that vehement, that I couldn’t get hold of my son when it was mutually convenient.  The next time Keith arrives I will present him with it – I already called him to tell him.  I also bought beer.  I thought of taking a cab home, and then my conscience stabbed me and I took the bus.

Then I got home and there was a check for $6K and a night out waiting for me.  And Katie, dreamingly expecting to get fed.  So out with the leftover pork and sauerkraut (life, she is so hard) and yet more tater tots and homemade cheese sauce with steamed cauliflower. and the leftover mushrooms.  Note how little in the way of dessert I’ve been mentioning.

Katie left (of course!) and Jeff and I watched the Ken Burns documentary on the Brooklyn Bridge.

It’s raining like mad out there, in fitful, cranky bursts, with long lulls, like a teething child that you’re just putting to sleep.

I hope that you are someplace snug and warm right now.

whoa, Noah

it’s quarter of 4 and my nose and eyes are streaming in a fashion that recalls words like Epic, Biblical, and Whoa, Noah.  I would really like to give a more graphic description, as it is quite amusing, but it’s also grosser than hell.

NCIS all gone.  We are caught up to ‘real life’.  We’ll either go back to Homicide or  Buffy, and Jeff’s not too enthused about Buffy.  I’m kinda inclined to go straight to season 4, but there are some good ones along the way in s2 and s3.

Katie was supposed to come home last night, but phoned and advised that she’d changed her plans.

Eddie barfed on my bed.  I was hoping to let him come and sleep in my room, but that doesn’t seem wise. Getting a new mattress cover and sheets recently seems prescient.  I really miss Zeek! and Kira and the way they fawned on me is prob’ly now explained by my feverish warmth.

I made us pork roast and sauerkraut with tater tots, fried mushrooms and corn.  Jeff approved.

Not much to say

spent most of yesterday being and feeling ill, didn’t go to the con.  I ended up at Paul’s, thinking I was on my way to go filking, but that didn’t happen.  I was brought tea and had cats sit on and near me, which was therapeutic. Now I just feel grisly and overslept.

Keith tried to call me but I don’t pick up if I don’t recognize the number.  Sure wish that boy would get a cell phone, I think coordination would be a lot easier.

I did manage to pick up Juliana McCorison’s album, and glad am I of that  because the last I saw on her LJ it wasn’t even going to make it to Vancouver in time. I missed her concert but given how grody I was in physical condition, I’m just as happy about that.

Note to self.  If looking at kitchen items that used to be ‘yours’ makes you cry, you ain’t over things yet.  One of these days I’ll be a grown up, but I suspect I’ll be long dead.

Tom’s heading home / filken

I heard a little more about the accident from Lady Miss Banjola (I caved on more VCon, my eyes feel gummy and I’m aching all over…. not a good sign although I intend to go back tomorrow).  Tom’s face is next to “One Lucky Bastard” in the 2008 Lifebook.  It definitely partook of the quality of a freak accident, because he’s alive and not going to scar that bad. Honestly, he missed death by nanoseconds.

We sang “Falling Free” and “Quaddie Ballet” and the parody of Wings which is all about the Cat in the Hat and “Acts of Creation” and “Rodney Oh Rodney” and “Rodney’s Favourite Things” and “John’s Song” and “Mal’s Song”, and “Vampire Blues” and “Ivan You Idiot” and Dr Filk’s rebuttal which is “Donkey Work” (to the tune of Dirty Work) and Juliana’s Dragonriders of Pern teaching song to the tune of an old English folk song.  And I bought Juliana’s new album, which looks lovely and I can hardly wait to play it, but in the morning, ’cause I’m falling down tired right now.