Month: July 2016

May I toast one of the smartest, kindest, most honest and funniest men I know – Jeff.

He’s good looking, too, but I get to say that, I’m his sister.

Pleasant weekend.  I ate at Cora’s again with Mike and this time it was absolutely amazing.  Jeff got the leftovers.  Whoever buys fruit for them knows that the hell they are doing.

We’re going to stretch the birthday out by getting yommy fud today and going to Jason Bourne next week.

Not much to report; Keith and Paul were here yesterday to (among other things) drink beer and watch documentaries. Paul and I walked to the beer store, and this time I didn’t stiff him with any of the haulage duties. I wasn’t wearing shoes with orthotics, so different things are smarting today.

We are re-watching Burn Notice. I’m doing it with a view to establishing whether the Michael Westen character is possibly either a) asexual – for which I’ve found some evidence in behaviour and text or b) so traumatized by previous events with Fiona that he requires extraordinary circumstances to feel sexual with her at all, for which there is plenty of evidence and which is how the characters frame the situation, including Michael but excluding Fiona, who appears to be gapping that Michael has good reason to be wary.  But what if he’s using it as cover for being asexual? The way he goes la la la la la I can’t hear you when other grown men talk about their sex lives? That childlike smile, at ninety degrees to the heavy lidded smirk of a guy who’s getting hip-twitchy, the softening of his posture and the very slight backing away when Fiona’s getting frisky… Jeff says it’s self-control.  Of course, but in the service of which emotion? When he’s really trying to act like a guy fighting his feelings he gives her a little shove and looks down and away. The body language is quite stylized. The semiotics are eeentresting.

Page 71 in edits.  I am also rewriting at the paragraph level, but not too often thank heaven maybe once every ten pages or so, for clarity and connectedness.

There is karaoke a few kilometres from here tonight.  I’ll see how I feel.  Consciousness is a variable quantity these days, and it makes an appearance and vanishes at odd hours.

Well, I knew sooner or later it would feel like the orthotics are making things worse, and today’s the day.  The inner left knee is VERY HURTY AND HOT right now.

Paul and I found the parking lot for Byrne Creek Ravine Park and wandered about for a while, and then went for Pho at Pho Hong on Kingsway, which is our  go to for pho.  Then we came back here and consumed media.  He’s just now called to ask me to go walkies again, and now that I have these new orthotics… yeah.

Anyway, Alex was here yesterday, and he was in fine form.

but right now ALEX IS COMING.  That is all. Katie of course is coming too and she’s going to watch wedding videos with me.

I WANT THIS SOFA.

An epic bout of puking and pooping aka racism, sexism, HOOOOOO MOOOOO PHOOOOOOBIA, plagiarism, accusing the enemy of making a pact with Satan, and RILLY BAD DO’S has broken out at the RNC.  And Norovirus. Some shit you can’t make up.

I missed him on the Island so I’m really really happy at the prospect of being able to see him tonight.

Mike and I went to Kamamarui Burnaby last night for ramen.  The Chashu ramen is out of this world, an incredibly silky pork broth with noodles and incredibly thin pork slices, broiled on one side and then slid into the broth.  They provided two tiny appetizers at no charge, one of which (Mike remarked) is a total rip off of the Chinese dish known as “grandmother’s tofu” so I guess it’s no surprise that I ate it with glee. There were also glutinous rice with seaweed balls, and I know that sounds disgusterpating but it was esculent.

This morning it’s a little rainy, not too much.  TO THE EDITING ROOM, JEEVES.

 

 

That arm will never be the same, but I’m more or less recovered.

 

 

I am taking it as a sign that Jeff’s window crank assembly for the MR2 has appeared.  Isn’t it time we ALL got a new handle on life?

The drive to the ferry, ferry ride (and nommy brekky), bonus hilarious interaction with other ferry rider, drive back home (except the Alex Fraser which was a fussed-her-cluck turning a five minute section of roadway into almost 45 minutes of drudge), car drop off and return were all perfectly acceptable, and now I’m making lists.

I know it doesn’t mean a damned thing to most of you, but my mother made me tea this morning.  I am so happy she’s more mobile and in less pain (mostly…) that I’ve got tears in my eyes just thinking about it.  And Exchange was playing on  the sound system in the Pacific Buffet.  Some people might call it easy listening but it’s an important part of my life, it’s family music.

Things I learned this weekend.

Bull kelp gets that big in a single year.  It akshully grows faster than bamboo.

If you don’t reset your mirrors in your rental car, you’re gonna be sorry.  I nearly killed some poor dude on a bike at the Nanaimo ferry, and my hand to God I’m never getting in a car without fixing the mirrors again. The finger he gave me was richly deserved.

The first time you get in a car you’re going to be the principal driver of, find out how to put gas in it.  There are a bewildering number of ways to engineer a fuelling system, and it’s always on, like, page one hundred of the f*****g manual.

My agent at Avis was once riding at night on a motorcycle, struck by a car with a drunken driver, and flew like a Tom and Jerry cartoon (his words, not mine) into a trash can, which of course fell over so he rolled out. He didn’t even see the guy who hit him, who compounded his stupidity in driving drunk by not bothering to even put running lights on.

People apologize for things that are trivial and sit out the tough ones. How I learned that I’m gonna stay quiet about.

I really love the Comox Valley and I want to go live there.

 

When you’re driving down the Island Highway and you think I have no fluids on board and I’m starving and I’m probably not safe to drive, you figure if the name of the restaurant is the Red Rooster and there is Wor Wonton on the menu it will be crappy.

 

NOPE.  In 20 years I haven’t had better.  It was exquisite; the wontons were plump and porky, the missing barbecue pork and shrimp was IN THE BOTTOM and the broth was dressed with sesame oil.  It was so good I can’t even wrap me head around it.  But I know the perfect place to stop for food on the highway now.

At the parents’, they’re fine, leaving tomorrow on the first ferry.

 

I had a really good time, it was a beautiful ceremony, a fantastic meal, a gorgeous setting, and the world is more beautiful and less tangled in festering toxic violence and villainy as a consequence.

I’m headed back to Deep Bay tomorrow morning.  Jesus, this morning, since it’s almost 2 am.  I got to ride in a limo and dance and drink.  The rental is still at the facility, which is fine, it’s perfectly safe there. When I’ve done enough work to not feel guilty about slipping away, I’m going to drive down to Victoria, but I can’t see me making it much before 2 at this point.

Such lovely people. And Octavia the Octopus came out to play.

 

Me and some Gemmell rellies will drive down in the HONKING BIG BLACK SUV I was forced to rent at the last minute to HERE. and if you look fast enough you’ll see where it says closed July 16 for a private function.

Nita and Mike have put together a wedding that should be epic. I am heartsick that Paul and Keith can’t go. I won’t say what Keith said on the subject but I was wrung.  I really didn’t expect to go, as faithful readers of the blog know well, and I’m so honoured and happy and grateful to go.  And there was an octopus. Octavia.  She inspected me because my dress is almost Pacific Octopus colour but when she realized I was not a rival she folded it back up again.

Everything in the world sucks so bad, that the excuse to be unreservedly happy for a day doesn’t seem like much.

I light a heartcandle for Turkey.

And Nice.

And Medina.

And Dallas.

Yes, it’s weird… I’ll be picking up the car today. I really never expected to go but when the BRIDE TO BE calls you on your cell, hopping from one foot to the other about you coming (because Paul, Keith and Janice can’t go), it’s like being touched by pixie dust or something.  My presence is requested at a family festival.  So weird.  Last time I went it was for a funeral, now it’s for a wedding.  Shouldn’t there be an infant dedication in my future?

Stay in C. after the wedding, drive down to Victoria the next day, come back Monday.

It’s not like I was doing anything except swithering.

Jeff and I are off to do a small shop.

ain’t hilarious.  They turned up at Planet Bachelor, which is grisly, mostly because the landlords are being dipstacks, but now the boiz r  not going to Nita and Mike’s wedding and they say I can go, but I  haven’t planned for it (I need a lot of mental preparation) and I’m not happy about being given the choice. Which just shows I’m a little teetery on the totter these days.

Made a very nice spaghetti with chicken the other night, plus some more ice tea, plus trimmed Buster’s claws.

He has excellent claw control 99% of the time but jumped up on me this morning and popped his claws languidly into my thigh. I leaped up with him under my arm, conveyed him to the bog, trimmed him and then he ambled out into the kitchen for his treat.  I’ve never met a cat who was so crazy and so chill at the same time.  Love me some Buster.

God I want The Expanse to come back SO BAD. Mr. Robot is back, but I’m going walking with Paul in Oakalla, so I’m thinking it will be after that.