Swimming and brussels sprouts

Last night Keith and Paul took me down to the Puddle and I got exercise (so much I was shaking when I got out of the pool).  However the shakes vanished when we pooled (ha) resources to make dinner over at Planet Bachelor, which consisted of rice, butter chicken and brussels sprouts.  I include the link to the wikipedia article because I think it’s charming to think that some of my all-time favourite fictional characters dined on them, even though brussels sprouts weren’t formally mentioned in any documentation until the late 1500s.  Nor was I aware that they are goitrogenic.  Nor was I aware there even IS a word like goitrogenic.  Man, the schtuff you learn on wikipedia.

Then home, where I found I missed Jeff so much (he’s in Victoria) that I had to call him for tech support on the entertainment system.

He told me, after a long, long pause, that it was the very same thing I’d called him about the last time, and could be fixed exactly the same way.

I include this anecdote for my mother… everyone else is going to think ?+!, and candidly, so do I.

Eddie barfed all over the carpet next to the workbench.

Today I will mount an assault on the cat litter pans, work on a new – and undeliverable – homily, run a vacuum over things, finish a laundry, make some bread preparatory to Jeff’s arrival, and wash the kitchen floor and the cat accoutrements.  This is four times as much work as I will actually do, but let’s see how things look at sunset.  I’m feeling kinda perky, and that’s just plain wacky for 5 in the morning.

I’m going to have butter chicken for breakfast.  Why not?  Maybe I’ll drape a piece of bacon overtop.

Dinner and schlepping

Went into New West for tp and a grooming item, which for reasons unknown was not at the London Thugs where I expected it to be.

I was calling it London Thugs before Mike started working there.  Now when I say it I really mean it.

Deposited the cheque from my grandmother (note on orthography, I have not yet made my mind over whether I am going to drop the que and just call them checks.  The only reason I hesitate is that, while I think the American orthography looks better, I want to maintain my Canadian heritage).  But Jiminy Christmas, don’t you find it odd that I’m getting birthday checks from my Gran when I’m 51 bleeding years old?  I vow to spend it all on beer and chocolate. What a useless, parasitic enemy of the people I am.

I’ve been ruminating over ‘you’re as young as you feel”.  I’m siding with it being true, if you’re just talking about your emotions.  I don’t know; do older people have more subtle emotions because they’ve lived longer and seen more, and understand more of the implications of things?  Or is that utter bs?  I saw too many times, over the course of my life, the youngest child in the room being the wisest, not least because she was so uncannily observant.  She was Katie Sharpeyes until she was 16.  Insert brief grouse.  Sure wish she’d call me back, or at least text me that she’s having far too much fun to call.

Damn, I can’t get that row of tequila shots we did out of my head.  Yes, Jeff sprang for a round of shots last night, and ah, with the festive.  That effin’ princess, Kashka (with what indulgent love I say it) had to have a lemon wedge, as she just can’t tolerate lime.  Katie’s crush observed that when somebody else is paying, as a matter of form you take the shot as is.  Indeed.

Still in New West, but fast forward to this evening.  There is a butcher shop around the corner from Sixth and Sixth.  I bought a really good steak there once, and I dashed in.  I beheld the liver and my whole body shivered with delight.  Yes, that’s just about the most disgusting sentence I could come up with on short notice, hope you liked it, hackneyed internal rhyme and all.

I thank Paul for the transpo into and out of New West… in rush hour, very much appreciated.  I get anxious when I run out of toilet paper. I make jokes about it, but I get anxious too.

I cooked the liver, dredged in flour, salt and pepper, in butter which onions had been frying in for a while.  I just barely cooked it, and it was so good.  Margot got some too, I shouldn’t have, but she was finding my plate more than usually interesting.

Now I feel like sleeping.  Life is so good.

Angry and perturbed turns into meh, and then huh, and then te he.

I spent a good chunk of yesterday angry and perturbed, but as is typical for me, once I figured out what to do about it, I quit being angry and perturbed.  Continue reading Angry and perturbed turns into meh, and then huh, and then te he.

Various kinds of news

Jeff took me out for wiener schnitzel at Balkan House yesterday.  It is a truly superior meal.  For the price you cannot beat it.

I have reduced my beer consumption a great deal… but that will get fixed tonight.  Today Katie is 21 and I’m taking her to Drink in New West with a bunch of her friends.  I don’t think I’ll stay too late, drinking with your children’s friends is like saying you don’t have friends of your own.  At least it’s one bus ride home, for both of us.

My brain turned to mush when This Guy called and said school stuff will prevent him from seeing me this weekend, but then my brain started functioning again as I went into planning mode.  Hopefully I’ll see him some time early next week. Cue the evil grin.

According to twitter world famous Canadian writers message each other all the time about incredibly trivial stuff (for example the slug post from yesterday started as a tweet from Margaret Atwood), Nathan Fillion is having a bromance with Seamus Dever (co-star on Castle), and Dita Von Teese just ordered a “thanksgiving in a box” from the American Store in Paris.  These little peeps into other people’s lives are kinda cool, actually.  It’s interesting to see which celebrities ‘get’ twitter and which don’t.

I follow Stephen Harper; all his tweets ever do is say exactly what he is doing at a certain time.  It’s like a GPS for the PM.  Never any opinions expressed… just where he is.  I know what John would say about that if he was still alive….

A number of celebrities (referred to by Perez Hilton as celebutards) are already in train to be sued by people they have (while high as f*****g kites if the internal textual evidence is to be believed) slandered.  Other celebrities somehow think that misspelling every second word and sounding like an ignorant, lazy, disloyal chenozzle is, too use the parlance of happier times, cool.  As a single example, Courtney Love.

Other celebs, like Weird Al Yankovic, tweet stuff like this, as of twelve minutes ago…


Didn’t see anybody famous sitting in First Class. If this plane crashes, I am TOTALLY getting the headline!

Which you have to admit is kinda hilarious, spelled correctly, and provides insight into how he thinks.

John Cleese’s tweets are alternately content laden “I am here with so and so” and funny.  Bruce Sterling is always going off about exotic locales in Europa – but this morning he linked to a Pop Mechanics article about Robert Heinlein’s house.  William Gibson passes along Amazon reviews from his wife (who must be one of the funniest women who ever lived, if her taste is anything to go by).  So yes, I’m enjoying twitter.

Anyway, I’m off to a church meeting.  Everybody, as you were.

Very cute photosets of kids and animals.

I must admit some of these pics raised a smile.

A year at Kew from a fabulous nature photographer (thanks Chipper).

Yet more kitty pics.

Stay tuned for the new Enceladus fly-by pics on Saturday … that’s when the raw pics will be in.  Can’t wait!  30 metre resolution of the jets on Enceladus!!!