Month: February 2016

No writing yesterday.  Feel like animatronic scrap. Hopefully going shopping this morning will help.

This is a GREAT COMIC. It is so layered about representation, gaming, finding new ways of being and how you feel when your new family member is… well just read it.

Laughed SO HARD.

Buster likes to hide behind the shower curtain and attack my backscratcher through it. This morning Miss Margot joined the partay, and Buster’s response was to jump up and shove Miss Margot off the edge of the bath. She slid to the floor, looking hard done by, and then he leaped over her head and fled the bathroom in as hilarious a display of athletics as I’ve ever seen.

Then Margot followed him and slapped the end of Buster’s tail for spite, (the only part of him still visible from inside the bathroom and a completely pointless effort, since she’s about as effective in that regard as a plushtoy) which made him run down the stairs at about 30 k. Margot is sitting at the top of the stairs quacking to herself in a very self-satisfied sort of way.

It was lovely to see Alex, he was in great shape. Katie is well but always clinging to the underside of exhaustion. Her SO is working and I am sure he’s happy to be working, I know I would be.

Biscotti will be distributed in Victoria to the Richly Deserving, and my mOm has already made a good start on it. pOp too I do suspect.

Hey that was HUMOUR YESTERDAY.  More than two gerunds in a sentence is a clue. Of course I’m angry about drivers in Vancouver, it’s impossible to live here in any capacity and not be.  But not head for the gunracks mad, that’s too difficult.

Katie and Alex are due here later this morning.  I’ll try to get her to send some pics while she’s here.

Vancouver drivers are really random. Something like forty thousand people turn up here every year and they’ve never driven in these conditions, you know, the special hell that is Vancouver conditions, which can change, with Vancouver bicyclists, who are all masochists, and Vancouver pedestrians, who are all on their cell phones and wearing clothing that indicates the citizenry is participating in some particularly aggressive act of mass mourning, or possibly a wish to be killed by a car and thus miss the rest of the Vancouver winter, or perhaps these newcomers to Vancouver don’t drive at all, or have never driven in any country where human life has more meaning than the ten bucks they need to give you a decent funeral including a reading from a dude in a dress. So in addition to the fucking assholes who know what they are doing and are only too happy to demonstrate it in their noisy, whining chariots of penis worship, we have a broad assortment of clueless wimps with baloney skins for tires.

Vancouver drivers are the kind of people who will weld their brakes stopping for a squirrel and then clip a granny at a crosswalk at seventy k without blinking.

Vancouver drivers have such pretty cars! Such expensive cars! none of which seem to have functioning turn signals.

Vancouver drivers treat the distracted driving laws passed in 2010 as “goidloins”. Everybody knows you should not text and drive, and virtually everybody I know with the exception of my son, my brother, my ex and me does it (we had a family member killed by distracted driving so we’re REAL crabby on the subject.)

I’ve asked cabbies to pull over to finish their conversation and had them argue with me! I’ve had cabbies try to find out where they are going on a cell phone GPS while driving dangerously and arguing with me about whether they should pull over or not.  The guy was so fierce he threw me out of the cab, and the licensing commission never returned my call, so they go on the list of Vancouver drivers I fucking hate. I didn’t have to pay for the ride though, so I guess I won that round. And I’ve lost track of how many cabbies drive away before my belt is on and ignore me when I tell them to pull over when I’m done.  Is it misogyny or stupidity? Why not both?

I hate people who don’t know what fucking lane they are supposed to be in. ON A BRIDGE.  How can you not know what fucking lane you’re supposed to be in when you’re crossing one of the lower mainland’s fine death traps, like the Patullo Bridge, which has such narrow lanes that I’m constantly getting other people’s side mirrors stuck in my teeth, and where some fucker in a truck from Alberta did actually try to kill me last year. Jeff toooo.

I hate the fucking fuckers who fucking completely fucked the fucking intersection at Willingdon and Deer Lake Parkway. Those ratfondlers should be dipped in boiling recycled cooking oil and have their interfered-with corpses left for the crows.

I hate with the force of a gamma ray burst all those festering hemorrhoidal pustules on Satan’s ass who designed the signage for the roads coming back from the Tsawwassen Ferry.

Day 491 of being a grandparent.  It certainly makes more kinds of fun possible.

Not really feeling much like moving. There are leftovers to be et.  I made a regular size batch of biscotti and am hoping I will be able to forward a few to Victoria.  I need to send at least six to Juliana and her krewe and Editrix should get at least two although I suspect she’ll want at least four for comparison and so she and her esposo can reasonably discuss them.

They did not rise properly but they are still quite airy and crunchy.  It’s always something…

Conflikt was lovely.  Cindy got out her books, pointed meaningfully at Lady of Komarr, and we sang in a circle which had GONE VERY VORKOSIGAN if you know what I mean.  I wanted to sing Ivan You Idiot but Cindy and I drew a blank on the tune and I didn’t feel like fleeing to the reg area to listen to it.

Roberta and Juliana fed Cindy and I a LOVERLY Thai dinner and attendant earflapping and I asked Cindy to crash in my room (I always get two doubles, just in case) since she wanted to stay another night but had already checked out and man those 32 db attenuation foam earplugs are amazing.  I couldn’t sleep because of JT’s Coffee Cordial (the cocoa cordial was simply phenomenal) but after a while I did and then I let Cindy’s phone alarm go for half an hour while I composed a tune to go along with it.  Then I wrote another song and still she did not awaken.  That lassie is a sound sleeper.  But I was watching her sleep with her cpap on and thinking my god what a good night of sleep she’s having.

Trip north with Jackie Mitchell blasting from the con cd (and Vixy and Tony’s fall about with amusement Santa Baby and Kathleen Sloan’s exCRUCiating filk of Do you want to build a snowman? – Do you want to build an Iron Man? which had me squeeing from word one and TJ’s version of Lullaby for a Weary World I kept having to skip because I’d get all weepy, like that never happens these days.)

HARMONIC MAYHEM performed TAPIOCA with six voices and it was freaking awesome. Tom and Peggy and Jeri Lynn and Jeff and Cindy and Callie were AMAZING as Harmonic Mayhem, and when you’re an international filk group practicing be hard.  Callie was part of the filk supergroup Echo’s Children as was Cat Faber who was sadly not at con but lots of people sang her tunes so she was kind of there anyway.

No writing progress, but a nice long walk yesterday with Paul and then the boys came over for The Adventure of English and Paul stayed for chinese food.

Now a great wave of desire for coffee comes over me.