Month: September 2009

I have world class heartburn

People over 50 who eat hot wings after 8 pm deserve world class heartburn.  I ask for no sympathy and it’s a good thing I expect none.

It is with flaming heart, therefore, that I announce the following horrific news.  I decided to clean off the memo portion of my cell phone as I recollected just now that I had sung a number of tunes into it.  Well, a number turns out to be seven, all but one without lyrics and me with no clue what key they are in or what to call any of them.  Thank you o great muse for your immense bounty, but I JUST SAID on my blog that I had 39 percent of them written down, so I’m down to 36 percent instantaneously.  Now, this is a fine, a stupendous problem to have, and I’d be six kinds of fool to even hint at wishing for a shutoff valve, but I refuse to do anything but acknowledge the fact that I have yet more work, as sleep beckons.

I got to meet Mike’s new inamorata Vilma.  (While Keith played Rock Band non stop).  She can sit on her hair.  I know personal remarks is rude, but her hair is stupendous, and comes entirely unregulated or mishandled by professionals in cascading rippling waves of honey blonde that terminate just above the backs of her knees.  The full effect is enhanced by her petiteness, and of course if she wasn’t a lovely, smart and good-natured woman the personal remarks would be even ruder.  Mike has horseshoes clanking around in his sitz platz.

Oh, and me and Mike and Keith played darts.  Mike won with a dazzling “come through in the choke” maneuvre.

56 out of 144 songs are now written out

That’s 39 percent.  I may actually get this project DONE by the end of my year off!

Of course it would help if I quit writing songs, but not a chance of that.  When I sit down to noodle these days I cut to the chase pretty fast.  Then, boom, another song to write down.  What can I say, it is so much fun to be me these days I can scarcely credit it.

I am going to head off to the Royal City Farmer’s Market this afternoon.  Time I did some bike shopping, and I have a hankering for some organic piggy hacks.

More tunes…

Walls of my heart is written down (forgive the title, I was oozing a neurasthenic and self-absorbed romanticism at the time I wrote it).

Aiee!  I am back in the swing of things with church, what with the potential move and the satellite service, so I invited myself to the growth committee meeting.    Actually, I hosted it last night.  Keith made himself known to everybody (feeling safe to come out if Peggy and I are in the room) and I (scandalously, for a Unitarian) didn’t feed snacks afterwards because one of our number is fasting for a genuine health reason and I figured we could all get by on clear fluids rather than force her to watch us eat.  That is the first time I ever had a committee or small group ministry meeting at my house without food – and my Mennonite foremothers are rotating like cylinder records in their graves at the very thought.

In the old days, visitors would be fed ‘faspa’ which is the Mennonite equivalent of tiffin, and consists of something lighter than a meal and heavier than a snack, if you know what I mean.  It’s so much part of the culture that it’s a major faux pas not to provide it.  Even though I had a sound reason, I still felt guilty.  Ah, it’s so good to be back in church!

Why the hell does an atheist do church?

Continue reading More tunes…

Summer and fall mix it up

The weather has been going back and forth, back and forth between summer and fall.  It was pretty hot yesterday.  I mowed the lawn.  I wish it was the last time for this season, but I imagine I’ll have to do it sometime again in October.

Paul called from Ontario to wish himself a happy birthday (that was pretty funny, actually) and to get the update on Dave.  He also mentioned he’d be going to visit Chipper on the way back from his canoe trip with Tish and Terry and Margo (Tish’s cousin).  That should be fun for all concerned.

Jeff’s taking the day off.  He bet me $20 (and remember, I don’t normally gamble) that he’d a) get Xenon running b) get the Xbox diagnosed (it failed yesterday when Keith fired it up, causing much unhappiness, and it’s an E74 failure mode, whatever that is, which is apparently so common it automatically extends your warranty) and c) get the new media box running the way he wants it to by bedtime tonight (or possibly tomorrow morning).  Knowing what I know about the ‘total depravity of inanimate things’ (Katharine Walker) I took that bet. … actually, it turns out that Xenon is being a fussy gussy, so I am not going to collect; I thought it was too much when Jeff suggested his busy day.

Watch and pray

…which is the Wake family motto.  Very appropriate now that Unca Dave is so sick.  The family visit was by his earnest wish, but he got dehydrated and he’s now in hospital in Castlegar, and hopefully he will be stabilized enough soon to go home with Alyssa and Derek and the girls.  I still can’t believe her oldest is 13.  I am filled with a heartfelt and humble thankfulness that Alyssa is there for Dave; may we all be present with our loved ones with competence and a loving heart.

I made cookies this morning. The double batch of cookies I made yesterday VANISHED shortly after Keith and Jeff got home, so I made more.  Refrigerator cookies are good for that.

It’s Paul’s birthday today.  Keith is going to call him and wish him a happy birthday, as well as giving him the news about Dave.

This too shall pass away.

Dancing

Went dancing with Katie K, aka Kopper.  It was mostly an older crowd so it was all classic sixties R&B with occasional pokes into the 90s.  We ate before the dance at Vera’s, there being no room at the inn at the Raincity Grill.  I had a simply lovely time and only drank two beers.  Laughed my ass off, repeatedly, danced ass off, rinse, repeat, drink more water.

Took a cab from Edmonds to Planet Bachelor to feed Kira; both of the denizens are out of town at the moment.  She was powerful glad to see me.  Said cab, driven by an immaculately mannered young man whose immigration to Canada seemed obvious, but whose ethnicity was not, then conveyed me to my domicile, where Miss Margot waited on the back deck.  She scarcely mewed when she saw me; she’d had no difficulty staying out of trouble in the interim.

Now sleepy-byes.  I hope Eddie and Gizmo, both of whom are out catting, have the courtesy to give me at least 4 hours of shuteye before Eddie starts making Doleful Moan on the back deck.

Church tomorrow.