Jeff says one of the regular customers showed up where he works with a moose (dead, dressed and cut in half) in his truck. The customer had had one more day on his license to bag one and he found one ten minutes after he parked his truck, which sort of sounds like the Walmart version of hunting. We have had much moosiness around here lately.
No, not my pOp. This is the dude what be playing it in the Thor movie.
I have paid my Toronto parking ticket.
But the really fun part was using it as an excuse to take minced moose and biscotti to the minister.
Or, how to teach privileged people to win arguments against marginalized people.
Prompted by this, which was forwarded by ScaryClown.
At the age of 21 I moved to Toronto to marry hubby #1, and since I was moving into a forties-vintage three-story walkup, I also moved in with cockroaches for the first time.
- Katie got the job, she starts today at 9:30 am. It is ONE 20 minute bus ride from her house. Unless the traffic is bad, then it’s about half an hour. Commuting in the GVRD is hellish, so Katie well knows what a good deal this is, especially since her last interview was in North Van.
- My emotions as a consequence may be best summarized as vigilate et orate.
- Miss Margot is being very grumpy about having her hair done. I may have to haul her off to the “professial Persian hedge trimmers” and get her done, which I’d prefer not to as winter is coming. I tried trimming her myself but her fur is so very fine that it slides through the guide without ever coming near the shears.
- My attempt at soup making (chicken with rice) had one heart stopping moment during which I accidentally added rather more paprika than I expected. Once tasted, however, the soup declared itself happy, and even Keith had some.
- This house is not a dude ranch for misfits and unemployables. The rest of this paragraph I deleted out of deference to the feelings of him what this is in regard to.
- It has never gotten quite warm or dry enough for me to cut the grass one last time before winter starts in earnest. I will when I can.
- I have done some more unpacking, and found some bedding which I probably can’t use as it looks doublish as opposed to twinnish or queenish.. However, it’s pure cotton, so I’m thinking of giving it to Paul, if he can stand having something in screeching lilac stripes.
- I carved out a pumpkin in the shape of Lafayette’s face. I’m thinking of cutting up a white sheet I found to make wee ghosties.
- Jeff has posted the pinball instructions AND the high scores list. Let the high score smackdowns commence!
- Homicide Season Seven is OUT THERE. But when Munch starts spouting off (again, again) about how the government is storing information on law abiding citizens, he sounds quite prescient. The whole show happened before 9/11.
- There is biscotti dough in the fridge.
- I would like to thank from the bottom of my heart my mother, Unca Barry, Ontie Mary, and the other relatives who assisted with a newly published family project. Barry’s preface in particular choked me up… we can never know what really happened, but we can preserve and think about what we have left, and be grateful that our relatives left us something to go on.
- I am reading through the family letters of, and with respect to, Bootlegging Mary. Long time readers of this blog will hazily recollect that I went to a family reunion and heard about a relative who ran a corner gas station in Saskatchewan (I am at a loss to understand HOW this could be a more Canuckistani reference) and was, possibly, likely, a bootlegger. I wrote a song for her and begged for more detail. The wheels of family genealogy have ground slow and fine, and to my wonderment and edification, the letters have been translated and published. Words cannot express my gratitude. Now I’m reading what it was like between the two World Wars for my Mennonite kin back in olt contry, and I’m amazed and humbled at the crap they lived through – all the while trusting and praising God with an deep and consistent piety. (Even as they got into it hammer and tongs about a disputed legacy… may we all take suitable notice of this falling out, which had tragic consequences for some). In one letter there is a third hand account (as it’s a letter to a relative from another relative about a third relative’s doings). The recently married daughter walked through her mum and dad’s village with her husband, and every last person in the village was gone. They had fled across the frozen river from Siberia to China, with nothing but transportation, food and clothing. She had seen her father the night before, and while he looked downcast he hadn’t breathed a word of the flight to his daughter.
- She is alleged to have said, in describing what she did when she walked through her parents’ deserted house, “I took the cat in my arms and the guitar down from the wall.” I got chills when I read that. She went straight for the two things I would have dealt with first. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…..
I have been looking for on line composition software that didn’t bite a mop, and I think I found it. Here’s a link to the people who made the software.
I’ll report back on how good it is after I try it.
Nothing that’s happened since has made me change my mind.
Natalie Portman, rape and vegetarianism. My head’s still spinning.