xmas cards

Almost 20 stamped, addressed and ready to go.  I concentrated on people at church who don’t come often and people I wanted to thank for their presence in my lives, including people I normally only interact with on facebook or elsewhere on the Internet.

also, mOm when you see this can I have mailing addys for Greg and Tracy, ontie Mary and Uncas Barry and Gary, as well as Phyllis?  I can’t find my mailing list from years past…..

Despite everything – unemployment, the weather, and other things one shouldn’t publicly relate – I’m in a really good mood.  I got a ‘wretched chore’ off my list yesterday and everything balanced to the penny, so I’m a happy happy girl.  Also, I went to London Drugs yesterday looking for Blue Heron Coffee and couldn’t find it.  Now normally I’d lose my shit and panic, but old age is causing me to do things like (literally, in this case) step back and look more carefully.  THEY CHANGED THE EFFING PACKAGING.  grr.  So then I looked, and there they were, for 8.99 A PACKAGE.  Normal price 14.99, normal discount and London Drugs 11.99.  I bought 5.  Glad I went! And if anybody from church is reading this, this is why I don’t buy coffee at church.  Plus I hate Spitfire Longbottom with a passion, it tastes like mud a Komodo dragon got busy in.

Also I dropped off more receipts at the accountants and I may actually get my taxes up to date, and I found the perfect gift for Jeff, which I have no intention of buying – it’s coasters made of Antarctic maps.  Jeff’s on a really serious “READ ALL THE BOOKS ABOUT ANTARCTICA” kick; he’s relating all the best anecdotes.

I still have to go to Surrey, but maybe I’ll combine it with another errand. A leathery or musical errand.  Or maybe I’ll just grimly go straight to my errand and come back.  Thinking about my mortality doesn’t please me, and thinking that my final resting place is going to be a funerary park in Surrey about blows my tiny mind.  Paul was so sweet – when I told him I was getting the cremation ‘package’ I bought back in 95 transferred to the Lower Mainland he asked if he needed to pay for it (there’s room for two in that niche, haw haw), and I said, “Considering we had a joint checking account in those days, uh, no…. you already did.”  And besides the separation agreement says we no longer owe each other anything, although I keep thinking I want to break into his apartment and steal the damned rug we bought on Pender Island.  I LERV DAT TING.

Margot is still playing “Go Home Fly You’re Drunk” in the kitchen.  I don’t know where all these sleepy, weaving, falling down flies are coming from, but even so they’re more than a match for Miss Margot.

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Allegra

Born 1958. Not dead yet.

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