Month: July 2009

Ability

Is a state of mind.

On a whim I looked up the project co-ordinator for my Experience ’75 grant (we did research in a cemetary, which is going to look great on my bio when the zombie movie comes out) and found out he got written up in a parenting article.  I had SUCH a crush on that man, he was one of the sweetest, funniest (= evil) people I ever met.  He used to pretend to be retarded as well as crippled if we were pushing him along, while the four of us students killed ourselves laughing.  But I was 16.  And dumb as a fence post, candidly.

And think about it.  From the time his name crossed my mind until the time I located his address and phone number was 90 seconds.  Stalking has never been so easy.

Wreck yesterday

<snippets>

In the morning I loafed and lazed, squeezed in a grocery shop, and then reverted to dawdling and doodling; around 1 Mike came and fetched me in the convertible, and then we went down to New West to get Katie and Kashka.  (One half of the reality show girls).  Kashka is covered with ink from her ears to her ankles, including Betty Boop as a skeleton, which is freaky, because Betty Boop’s skull looks exactly how I would imagine Margot’s skull to look.

It was very pleasant on the beach.  There was a kicking breeze all day, and it was not from the usual angle, and pushed the incoming tide up the beach.

At first Mike tried to fly his approx 4 square meter kite but the breeze was so stiff he was getting dragged 10 and 15 meters down the beach, which I watched with the kind of chill consternation which is all you can muster when you’re feeling so mellow.  Then he tried smaller kites, which was much more successful, and provided us all with much in the way of aesthetics.

Liz, Kashka’s ex, joined us.  I’d met her when we were still living at the Augur Inn and really liked her; I still do.

As the tide came in (Mike always checks the tide tables and parked us WELL up the beach) the breeze shifted until it was straight onshore.  Surf’s up kids!  The girls were bobbing up and down in the waves several times – they’d come back out to warm up and then go back in.  I asked Katie if it was awkward to go the the beach with mom and she just laughed and said after ten years she was used to it.  And it’s been ten years since we started going as a family.

Odd, isn’t it?  I got in to waist height and let a couple of waves slam into me, because I wanted to say I had gone in and had some idea of the physical exhilaration of it all, but I’m 50, and the idea of trashing the bottoms of my feet and then having to climb all 407 stairs (counts vary!) had very little appeal, and at the end, the girls complained that their boobs had been thrown around so much they were all sore.  Mmmm… My kind of fun doesn’t have that kind of toll, but that’s just me being lazy again.  Also, Mike and Liz and Kashka and Katie all complained about how much salt water they swallowed.  Ick.

A man with t shirts and beaters went by; one showed a parody of a Starbucks logo with beers and WRECK BEACH instead of STARBUCKS, and the mermaid wearing sunglasses.  Kashka leaped up and said, “I want one!” so I obliged her.  I laughed, “All your mother’s many kindnesses to Katie are coming back for YOUR benefit, how annoyed Suzanne will be!”  But no probs, I’ll be seeing Suzanne later this week to catch up on the buzz.  Katie is living rent free at Kat and Kashka’s, so I am being politic.

I ate the best hotdog ever on the beach.  Those three jalapeños I added made for just the right amount of heat.

I wrote a song on Mike’s parlour Larrivée – no lyrics yet. Which reminds me I should pick up my guitar and make sure the tune is still there.   I believe so.

The GVRD but not the cops were on the beach.

All in all, it was a lovely, lovely day, and I got home around 7:45, very crisp around the edges. Tonight, off to see Patricia for the long promised Cavalcade of Cheese.

One thing and another

Yesterday… I mean apart from getting ZERO done on my life list, I had something resembling a perfect day.  I got to see my kids and Paul as we chatted about the job hunt for the kids (got some things straight). I got fed a yummy tortilla lunch which Paul and Keith and Katie assembled; later I did a kindness for someone which triggered him buying me sufficiency of beer for the nonce.  Happiness is a fridge full of Corona.

I got to visit with Tre.  Logos, but that’s one cute babby.  Battery and Tanya and Jeff and I laughed and chatted and had a very pleasant time while I got the grisly details of the birth, none of which are for public consumption.  The result, a calm but busy 6 week old who developmentally is a month ahead (REALLY strong), is what counts.

Margot couldn’t stand the lack of focus on her, and came into the livingroom to (very ladylike) hork up some grass, because the babby was being changed at the same time…

The weather, after a little overcast, was perfect all day.

Then, hung out for a while not doing much of anything and Mike came by and took me and Keith and Jeff to the Richmond Night Market, where I bought nothing but REALLY GOOD kettle corn, and where I watched my beautiful son metamorphose into a steely eyed killer (there was a mini-midway, and he shot enough pins to get me a little purple bear (not exactly worth the five bucks he paid to play…. but I digress as usual and besides, Miss Margot is eviscerating it as I type, so its purpose has been revealed)) and after we drove away Mike took us to his cefu’s traditional chinese martial arts club (Mike corrected me, Jack is NOT his cefu, Galen is.  Men can be so STERN when you get things wrong) in an industrial park in Richmond (and boy, has he done a pile of work on that place to help Jack get ready) and then I got to watch the north shore skyline etched against a sunset sky while the wind whipped through my hair.  Ah, convertibles. And I cried a little bit, because I am so happy, and so grateful to be living here, surrounded by such loving friends and family. Side note, John Caspell trained with Jack.  Everything is deeply intertwingled.

When we got home, TrueBlood.  Not enough Eric; no Pam, not enough Jessica.  But considering what the first four episodes of the season were like, I am willing to cut some slack.

Can you tell I had a perfect day?

And today, instead of working, I’m going with daughter Katie and Mike to the beach.  My happiness is like a golden thread.

I would like to give special, extra, crunchy golden props to Jeff, who has been leaving the real for real audio of the Apollo 11 mission running for the last couple of days during waking hours.  It’s been an ongoing reminder of why I’m an atheist.

Until we saw the Earth rise over the moon, I don’t think the fundamental unity of human life, and its fragility, had ever been so starkly drawn.  And it wasn’t the Pope or Mohammad, peace be upon him, what got us there.

Busy day planned

First, over to Planet Bachelor for a council of war about the kids’ employment.  At 1, Tanya and Battery and Tre are coming over (I haven’t seen a babby that small in a long time, and I’m much looking forward to it).

And to round the day off… Night Market!  with Mike!  And almost for sure Keith, and maybe Jeff if he’s feeling up to the mob scene.

And between now and the time I leave for Planet Bachelor, I must list not left or right but make a list and get on with it, because although I did ALL my laundry yesterday – and line dried it – and hung it up – and mowed the lawn – I still have papers and crap spread all over the house and it doesn’t look very welcoming at the moment.  Jeff is maintaining a discreet silence – he knows that eventually I will tame the mess.

Jeff set up the air conditioner yesterday, it was really necessary.  Today looks solid overcast so it should be much cooler.

Inspecting Margot

I just realized the pads of her front feet are black and the pads of her back feet are pink.  It’s tortoiseshell madness!

Yesterday evening, leftovers and Journey to the Center of the Earth (3-D) with Brendan Fraser.  Cute film, but not exactly a feast for the brain.  Keith is here.

I finally got my tutorial in how to run the lawnmower, so I can scratch that off my list.

The bed, she is together

I remembered the ballad of Frank.  Frank was the plasterer at Amedeo Garden Court some 30 years ago, and he taught me a lesson without ever saying a word.

He worked so deliberately that he looked like he was surfing on molasses.  He never stopped.  He never, ever stopped, until a stopping point came.  He started ready to do the job and he kept at it, taking his mandated breaks, from 8 until 4.

So the ballad of Frank is, when you have a job of work in front of you, gather your materials, mentally prepare yourself, and don’t stop until it’s done.  Which I did.  I counted the pieces, counted the hardware, read the instructions, cast them aside except to consult them as to which kind of hardware I should use next, and took just under four hours to assemble it, stopping only to remove most of the crap out of my room for construction space, and to stay hydrated.  Please remember, I was assembling it alone and you know that awkward little bit at the beginning when you’re trying to get the fracking dowels to line up…. I let go of the footboard and it stood on its own.  So did the other end.  That really helped.

Margot came in and was an entire pain in the ass, chasing screws around, patting them through the holes, and then when I dropped a piece of hardware on the other side of the footboard I said, “Be a love and pass that over here,” which she obligingly did, and how I long to have taped that.

It is an Ikea style single/single bunk bed two shades darker than the floors.  One of the pieces of assembly hardware is so cool I fell in love with it.  And I had to assemble the drawers from 6 pieces plus much screwing, hell now, there were like twelve screws in those bloody drawers.  They ain’t comin’ apart again, by gar.

And I had to screw down the slats (I didn’t put in all the screws supplied, mostly because squirmy eight year olds will not be sleeping in it).  As I affirm to an uncaring universe, if a small child moved in with me I would definitely screw those slats down as much mischief is avoided if the bed is more solid.  And there was the ladder to assemble with count’em TWENTY dowels, plus screws, plus mounting bolts, and the extra screw for the baby rails on the top bunk on three sides, and the getting the two beds lined up on their little metal posts (that was actually the hardest and most awkward part).

So…. tired.   Must sleep now.

Oh, and I finished Imagination and Don’t Put Too Much Sugar In the Bottles.  The short ones go fast.

Sundry and various

My bed showed up!  The trucker specializes in Victoria / Vancouver so maybe he can assist us in getting stuff back from Victoria, namely, pinballs.

Now I have to assemble the sumbitch.  But tonight, I sleep OFF THE FLOOR, which is a wondrous thing.

Peggy came by and traded organic raspberries for salmon paté.

Now for a poetry break.  I wrote this in 1989:

Abundance

Cantaloupes block the doors open
there is an orange in the mirror

cherries lurk in the crisper
bananas curl up in a basket

pears loll on the dining room table
I found four peach pits in the sink
leftover raspberries and cream on the counter

chocolate fondue burbles in the bathroom

the pineapple is waist deep in apricots

I caught her eating blueberries in bed
courageous woman, all her sheets are white
& summer is a stain of every colour

Yesterday I was lazy

I took the kids to Harry Potter VI and to Red Robin afterwards for eats, and Paul met us there, and apart from working on two songs and breaking down some boxes I didn’t do a damned thing.  Today I am going to wait for my new bed to be delivered and then I am going to see Peggy as she comes to collect her share of the smoked salmon paté.  Whatever I do I’d better buckle down and actually do some WORK.

Satisfying day.

I have really and officially put Weekend’s Over to bed; now I’m trying to make Evening News sound like the way I sing it.  I was very pleased to see how much work I’d already done on that tune; now all I have to do is fix bars 56 through 70, which have both tune and timing issues, add the lyrics, and I can move that one over to the DONE pile.  I Must Admit it Troubles Me is SEVERELY pissing me off, I cannot figure out what time signature it’s in.  I am suspecting it’s in eight.  Two did not seem to work.  Neither four.  Not being able to read music, and having a severe mental block about learning, is a drip drag, mah friends.  Worked more on the atheist liturgy.

Paul came by yesterday with the Eskimo hunters (two pieces of felt art my mOm made 17 billion years ago which I got framed about 10 years ago and stayed at Planet Bachelor until I had walls for them) and also the sewing machine and sewing kit, and took away boxes for packing (he and Keith are moving in a couple of weeks to the apartment downstairs from them) and also a bunch of book donations for Value Village. Thank you Paul!

I went to my bedroom, inspected my underwear drawer for sacrificial offerings, and then went downstairs and measured Jeff’s coffee table.  Then I came back upstairs and cracked open the sewing kit, which can haz LOTS of Velcro.  I love sewing with Velcro.  I took out 5 feet of black nylon strap webbing (for a packsack project I never even started) sewed four inches of Velcro on either end, and then cut up a pair of navy tights and sewed seven pockets and made a remote caddy for Jeff.  It holds ALL the remotes for the downstairs system – all 6 of them – plus I made an extra pocket for the end so he could either put the wireless xbox controller in there or something else.  I phoned him, all excited, because once I’d done the measurements and visualized it, it took less than 20 minutes to do it, and I didn’t have to spend any money on the project because everything was already in the sewing kit.  Except why IS it that every time I borrow the sewing machine I have to wind a bobbin?  I’m not complaining, I kinda like doing that too.  Jeff laughed and told me to sew Holy Moly’s eyes back on if I was feeling so inspired.  So I did that too.

Holy Moly is a part of our childhood.  mOm made this pointy nosed mole cushiony thing with a multicoloured body and big brown and yellow eyes.  He must be 45 years old if he’s a day.  Anyway, Jeff ended up with him and he lives in the AV room, along with baby Cthulhu (from Lexi), Pirate Ducky (from Archie McPhee in Seattle), and Nautiloid (from mOm).  Various other stuffed animals mOm made are peering down from assorted vantage points in the house, including a blue baby heffalump and a knitted baby tiger.

The Ladybones and Katie’s two salon heads are arranged above the hutch in the living room.  If you don’t like severed heads… don’t look up! There’s a little shrine to John in the living room; the embroidered dragon has his earrings sitting in front of it.

The locksmith showed up and we are going to get new strikeplates for the doors, get a new door handle for the back door and of course this is not being paid for by the landlord, but while the deadbolts are okay the doors are trash from having been repeatedly kicked in (oh joy) so they need the reinforcement.  Then we’ll get the alarm system activated, but we figured there was no point activating the alarm when the doors were such a disaster.

What else happened yesterday…. Mike asked what I was doing that evening, and I said, “Feeding you!” and so I fed him and then called Keith to get over.  While I was prepping for and cleaning up after dinner Mike played guitar.  So nice – and he’s learning new tunes!  and then we re-watched Trueblood 3 and 4, neither of which Mike had seen.  Episode three is SO much fun.

I am thinking of doing something I haven’t done for years…. go to a movie by myself.  Harry Potter’s at the Dolphin at 1 pm.  If I get enough work done this morning I will go.

Cthulhu is coming

Earthquakes, giant squid. Where will it all END?

Blasted through the entire first and only season of Lucy the Daughter of the Devil. The IMDB link is not particularly useful, so I’m not posting it.  ScaryClown has been trying to get me and Jeff to watch it for, like, a year, and now I have to say it’s so funny and so disgusting… and I really like the style of animation.

I made cinnamon buns yesterday.  Keith really enjoyed the sensation of walking into the house.  He promptly ate a few.  Jeff said they were the best ever, but he ALWAYS says that, it’s a joke really.  That said, they were damned good.  I was supposed to mow the lawn but ducked out of it.  I will do it today.

The locksmith comes today, and that’s good, because the locks in this house are shite, what with the doors having been kicked in a couple of times.

Jeff wandered around the house testing all the outlets. Almost every outlet in the house was wired in backwards; some were sideways, even, and a couple were upside down.  My role was to yell whether it was on or off (the lights in the tester) while Jeff turned breakers on and off to prevent untimely electrocution (although timely electrocution, in my view, is more the province of lightning than AC provided by BC Hydro.  I mean, after all, people have been cured of a wide variety of ailments subsequent to a lightning strike.  But I digress, as usual.)

The most recent True Blood was fabulous (Alan  Ball wrote this one) and much funnier than normal.  Vampire Bill gets a couple of good lines.

I found a letter that somebody hates me wrote to me three years ago and I THREW IT OUT.  After defacing it, of course.  I have actually been throwing my writing out, too, which is good, because a lot of it is baggage, crap and nonsense.  The good stuff I do keep.

Found the lyrics to Bob Dylan’s New Year’s Day and wrote it down; found the SF story I wrote (with Michael Bishop’s markups all over it, o joy) & now I have to a) enter it because of course I don’t seem to have the original soft copy and b) get it whipped into good enough shape that I can start sending it out.

Atheist liturgy is coming along nicely.  Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote some very nice stuff about atheism and I scarfed some for a reading.  Didn’t know AE Housman was an atheist either; there’s some good stuff in there.