Author: Allegra

Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

a few comments

From treehugger to treemugger in 15 years.  I was never allergic to cottonwoods until this year.  Now my eyes are a punched out advertisement for Gummy Residue, my brain feels too large for my skull and my nose feels all wrong.

Does any Michael’s, anywhere, ever have enough fucking checkout staff?  I never want to darken the door of that establishment ever again.

I saw agricultural workers wearing coolie hats today.

I finally saw a police speed trap that was set up in an appropriate place as far as public safety goes.  That’s like 1 for 10.

Thank God the Canucks won, this town would be a nightmare otherwise.  I still think they’re going to lose it in seven, but that’s because the officiating has sucked dog’s balls.

Ziva is a one eyed jack today.  Paul noticed. I’m going to try to fix it myself.

It’s summer!   The Headwater memorial awning is up.

I bought embroidery floss today for something to do when I’m watching TV.

A plaintive plea

Please, imaginary friends, get OUT OF MY HEAD.  My most recent fanfic style scene has a water demon (Pegaiai, Peg for short)  climbing out of a toilet to get close to the boy she fancies.  Hot chicks climbing out of toilets is the opposite of sextyime.  Especially when you’ve just finished using the toilet for one of its intended purposes.

Griff makes a great recovery though.  He offers her a spare toothbrush and a shower.    Griff, so’s you know, is a great big horndog.

Temperature sensitive

One of the many things I’ve noticed about work is that when the temperature is just right for most of the guys, most of the women are freezing.  When it’s too cold for the MEN, then it’s a frickin meat locker.  Somehow the HVAC is buggered up – to the point where the temperature as measured at a central wall is 3 degrees C different from a point less than 6 meters away.

There is a family of Canada Geese in the pond.  I spotted six turtles swimming around yesterday.  They came out to sun themselves in the late afternoon.

I went home around the regular time and cooked supper and watched another dreadful hockey game.  Mike joined us for dinner and Keith visited briefly.

I am STILL feeling really icky, but I think I may have some idea what to do about it.

The first thing I have to do is sell Ziva.  It means I’ll be visiting my folks less and be a lot less able to assist various family members with things they want to do, but I just can’t justify the harm to the planet, the expense, the reduction in the amount of exercise I get.  My commute to work by bus is about half an hour now, with quite a bit of walking, which I need to do more of anyway.  I just miss her already.  But she’s an expensive habit and I need the money.

In Victoria mit kinder

The weather, thank goodness, is absolutely glorious; we had a lovely tour down the highway with the eponymous Sheryl Crow album blasting, and then the sumbitch quit…. I really like that album and it’s annoying to think I’ll have to replace it.

The kids and the folks are having a lovely discussion in the sun room so I thought I’d slip away and catch up on my blog.

Yup, still the same laundry list of shiz I can’t talk about.

So I’ll talk about something else.

With my own eyes I’ve seen a little naked girl, slowly walking along a path, holding a frog on the palm of each hand.  “Look, mummy, they like me!”

With my own eyes I’ve seen a great blue heron fly over the car I was driving, and I watched it poop, and cover my windscreen with runny pale blue shit.

With my own eyes I have seen the classic UFO lenticular cloud.  mOm can confirm; she was in the car with me.  I saw it looking west from the Hamilton escarpment.

With my own eyes I’ve seen what it looks like to do the approach into Montréal, through thin scattered, at night, in an Airbus.  (Wild, lemme tell you.)

With my own eyes and ears, I have seen a man play arpeggios on a flute to a common loon, which answered him.

With my own eyes, I have seen Keith’s name written into the ice up at Red Deer Lodge.  (repeated freeze thaw cycles at the base of reeds cause the ‘writing’ effect’).

With my own eyes, I have seen a cat fall into a full bathtub and not get wet.

I’ve seen a lot of wonderful things in my time.

5th anniversary

Anybody care to guess what today is the 5th anniversary of?  Herewith hint.

To the tune of The Flintstones

Back pain!  You’ve got back pain!
Your nerves jumped you like a bunch of thugs!
Back pain!  You’ve got back pain!
And your only question’s, Where’s the Drugs?

Maybe… you have blown your L4 disc!
Maybe….yoga would have halved the risk!

Back pain! You’ve got back pain!
You’re in fashion now, you’re all the rage!
Back pain! You’ve got back pain!
Welcome to your middle age!

The list of things I don’t talk about

I am crushing on Kristen Holden-Ried so hard right now I might as well be 11.  It is the combination of his lovely rumbly voice and the way he smiles at Bo that does it for me.  Axtually the other day I was thinking of my first media crush, and it was ‘the cute one’ from Alias Smith and Jones.  Since nobody reading this will remember that singularly unmemorable show (I’d probably find it unwatchable now) all I can do is say, “Hey, I am no more mature now than I was then!”  Mind you nothing I say will drown out Jeff’s comments on Ksenia Solo, who is so cute it’s quite unreal. But I’m not going to talk about it because it’s boring, and transitory.  It was Cillian Murphy last month.  Lost Girl is NOT a good show.  But it is a consistently entertaining show, and that’s what I want.

I don’t talk about my sex life, because my mother reads this.  Everybody, pause and be THANKFUL.

I don’t talk about work, even though right now I am bursting to.  (In brief – reorg.) There are two appropriate people to talk to about work.  Your boss, and a friend who lives in another town.

I don’t talk about my health stuff; if I did I’d never say anything else.  I’d also get advice, which, if you talk about your health, you are implying a solicitation for.  Uh, no.

I talk way too much about church anyway.  So, for a while, a respite.  I mean, who cares that I delivered a homily last week and that it went over very well?  Me and five other people.  The new homily is up for anyone who’d like to read it.

ack

Still no wirelessforme at home.  Wireless works, but my laptop is saying, :hunh? waaa?:  Cable hookup downstairs works fine of course.

Watched Sita Sings the Blues with Paul, Keith and Kate last night and they all loved it.  Why the hell not, the animation is amazing, the soundtrack is boss, and the message particularly timely for daughter Katie, who after all has been in an abusive relationship for about a decade now.. … well it feels like a decade.  The kids agreed to come with me on Sunday, woot!  They are demanding as their fee a breakfast on the ferry, no problem.

There’s nothing like wonky wireless at home

To make you want to come to work.

I observed NO TRAFFIC but every truck in the lower mainland was attempting to bind its bumper to my tailpipe, like, ew, and then I observed DUCKLINGS on the duck pond, and then I observed that I have no network access, so the work I came in early to do, I can’t.  Sigh. So I’ll have to find something else to do.  There’s plenty of work, it’s just when you make up your mind to do something and you can’t, it’s a pain.

The Midnight Moving Company has taken over my brain again.  Watching Lost Girl has made me realize I’m still really fond of that idea, and I love all the characters (“Vampire Gypsy Musicians!” “Cute and v Accommodating Goth Chicks!” “Clinically Crazy ‘Born not Bitten’ Vampire Anorexic on a Thelemic Quest to Avenge His Sire/Mother!” “Mighty Human Warrior who is Allergic to Sunlight!” “Bemused Movie Crews, Nagging Night Nurses, Philosophical Ambulance Attendants, Suspicious Cops, Transsexual Street Hookers, Butt Stupid Drunken Hipsters!”