happy granny

So, *grandson* for a couple of hours. First out of the gate I ask him to empty out the dishwasher, which he does by removing items one at a time and handing them to me. I don’t have to bend & he keeps up a running commentary which I won’t attempt to summarize.

Then he abuses Edith, my Aria mandolin. He makes some very interesting noises and keeps it up for quite a while without destroying the instrument. Then he wants Chelyabinsk videos, Pompeii, world’s greatest volcano disasters. Then I show him Stella the wonder dog learning to talk.

Which he loves. Then he very seriously tells me about his accident. I gently listen while he tells me that he dropped a pick into Edith. I help him get it out. Then I ask him if I can cut his fingernails because mah gob! ‘skustin’! I get nine out of ten and then teach him to use an emery board. Then he wants a pinball game and he only just turned five but he got 3 tube shots in two successive games on Xenon

and honestly all I want to do is call my fOlks and tell them because they will be thrilled. Xenon is a Meaningful Game for a lot of reasons and watching him dance in his chair along with the game music and telling him it was written by a woman makes me happy.

The Lambs of Little Bleating Lane, 1.1

The sky, when it shrugs off its habitual shawl of fog and low cloud, is blue. It flickers sometimes. A low, static cloud of dense dark grey settles over the town every few days, but I don’t like to divide the passage of time into days.

People say: I’m going to sleep now, and then they lie down and wink out of existence. That’s how I imagine it. I haven’t slept yet. I haven’t caught anyone disappearing, and yet they do.

I believe it’s been a long time, yet there are signs that not much time has passed, and since I don’t sleep it’s hard to tell. I’ve been awake long enough to know that I’m the only one who stays awake all the time. I watch the others sleep to make sure that they don’t disappear when they’re asleep. I try to read but I can’t keep the words steady in my mind long enough to take any nourishment from them. Mostly I stand at the window. Someone is playing in the yard. I see her clearly but only for a moment, and she’s horrified at how I look and her face shows it and I run away to the bathroom to brush my hair and run right through a woman. The sunlight that the child was playing in is gone. The woman is gone. I’m alone but when I move to the master bedroom I can see breath rising from the bed.

I didn’t know I could see that. I’m so fascinated that I watch, watch, watch, each little puff and I’m filled with grateful wonder that my eyes can bring me this. I bring my hand up to cover my eyes, to check if this is real or my mind is filling in some blanks, and then I wish I hadn’t. The scene has changed and I’m sitting on the ground in the open; the house has burned down and I was too busy looking at something else to notice. It bothers me that I missed the fire but on the other hand maybe people died and I’ll have company.

It doesn’t seem that way. I get the sky all the time but that doesn’t last. Workers walk through me and I let them pour concrete through me, thinking perhaps I’ll finally stop having to look at anything but my imagination.

That must have been a mood

apparently as a writing exercise WHICH I HAVE NO MEMORY OF I decided to invent a bunch of curses based on the word ‘taint’


Kick him in the taint with a Mexican boot! (trival boots – the supah pointy ones)

Kick his taint into his gargle zone! <—— bad villain, bad bad villain

Strain his taint through his teeth with a good swift kick!

Torque his taint to 1500 ft lbs!


Torque his taint to 1500 Newton-metres. <——- SI is full o yuks is it not?

May centipedes roam freely on his taint! <—— I like this one

I shall freeze-dry his taint and use it for tea <——– to be said by someone with a very calm air

Cut his taint in two and make curtains for his asshole! <—- what is WRONG with me?

May frost dancers carve his taint with their toe-rakes! <—– it’s coming back to me now, I have a vague recollection of going to the internet to find out what those prong things on the front of ice skates are called

Throw his taint to the feral cats / raccoons / coyotes / crows / ravens / eagles / vultures.

one of those days


50153 HOTM

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on the way home yesterday as mentioned I left a box of biscotti on Peggy’s stoop. One of their tenants picked it up and put it on their kitchen table and so Peggy and Tom came back from their errands and thought why is there a box with Jeff Rivett’s name on it? and they called me. I played along for a brief while pretending I HAD NO IDEA where THAT BOX CAME FROM. Tom said they were the best ever, but he lies. The best biscotti I ever made were the hazelnut apricot biscotti I made while at the café but we do the best we can whether we have a pizza oven or not. He ate those, so he should know better.

Have a baby capybara (above shown is a beardy)

I like hummingbirds.

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Also, check out this new used dinosaur Ferrisaurus Sustutensis from BC. I’m going to get it as a tattoo, but in brighter colours (I kid, I kid)


The article is here.