In domestic news…

waffles is served; composter is installed next to back deck; new shower/massager head 1/2way installed in upstairs bog; Honored Guests for barbecue (pork chomps, not them), hammock has been obtained and can be moved throughout the yard to chase the shade; Miss Margot is acting like her operation a week ago is not even a memory; Eddie has settled down; Gizmo is a cat among cats; and I feel finer than happy.  And Sunday, episode 4 of TrueBlood season II; so I even have something to look forward to besides finally finishing Grieg which has been open and staring at me for three days straight now.

Honored Guests are coming!! must clean house!!!  The house isn’t even too filthy, just disorganized (still) subsequent to the move.

Robohum & other diverse curiosities

Creepy or cool?

Palin resigns.

Follow this link and see a three minute video about a young married clown couple.  Who met in Afghanistan.

Teaching doctors about treating the elderly.

State election board picks anarchist symbol?

God does not evolve… or does she?

Clean energy from algae.

I can’t remember why I linked to this.

Oh, to drink in Utah, now the laws have changed!

Hot balls in Unpronounceable, Wales.

Educational sex video… for 5th graders.

My day so far

I slept on the couch last night.  Couldn’t understand why on earth I was so tired the night before, but the next morning when I could navigate my way to the can in the dark by the pink light being emitted by my forearms, I realized that tooling around half the day with Mike with the top down gave me some serious sun.

So what did I do?  Kopper and I ran away to Wreck Beach (or were conveyed there by shuttle buses, which magically arrived and departed without any waiting time) and I got more sun, but we had water.  I bought one beer and consumed it in one foaming draught, since when he said “Ice cool beer” he meant it and in that sun it would warm at the speed of thermal radiation.

We got crispified lightly and then went to the Japanese restaurant at Main and Broadway (I am in raptures about the food, it was amazing, and exactly what my mouth was ready for)  and then went to Commercial Drive and parted company in the concourse there…..  Sigh.  It was a fine old elephant flapping we had, and of course she’s in way better shape than me despite her heart scare a few years back, since she actually works out three times a week and eats properly.  Oh, I forgot to mention she cooked me breakfast, cause she was just starting to cook it when Jeff dropped me off this morning.

Just when you think

I am contemplating atheism, yet again, it being a topic of much importance to me.  Stay with me, because my chain of reasoning here is more slender than Ann Coulter.

Right now, I laugh at your holy books.

But in a hundred years, you will be able to laugh at mine.  It will be old fashioned, full of assumptions no longer in the slightest true, and neither realistic nor edifying.  Just like your book.  I am quoting myself to say that “The Bible’s truth to me is not the truth of its history and laws, but of its poetry and narrative.”  My book, whether putatively fact or tentatively fiction, will look the same to the most rabid Christian.  Laughable. Simply because a hundred years have gone by.

So why can’t I laugh at your 4000 to 1900 year old books?  Ain’t they out of date? Tired, even?

Just asking.

Played Brooke vs John for Mike in the car today, he liked it.  Got a compost bin (about frakking time, tahellja) and sigh a hammock for Jeff and I to laze about in.  So when I realized I could no more work today than fly to the moon (although I did put an hour in on Grieg before I gave it up to do something more interesting) I IM’d with Mike, found out he’d broken up with Heather (O.0) and then spent a good chunk of the day with him, first stopping off at Still Creek to acquire and then drop off a compost bin.  Then… tooling about to a surplus joint where I dropped 15 whole dollars and ended up with a recorder, a glasses case, a shower head and a campstove.  Yeepsh.  Then off to Canadian Tire where I watched a very quiet Asian chick get escorted civilly out in handcuffs, this after saying to Mike under my breath, “What the farce are three cop cars doing here?” and Mike said, just as quietly, “Shoplifter.”  Found the hammock after some casting about, and then Mike got his hot springs shoes and a foamy for the spring itself, so you can lie in it at your ease without scuffin da skin offen yo’sef.  Everytime I see pictures of it, I just don’t get a sense of what it’s really like.  I saw pictures of Hot Springs at Hesquiat for years before I ever went there.  Oh, and Mike tells me that BATHING SUITS  must be w0rn at all times.  I’ll make mine so worn I pop right out of it.  No I won’t.  I won’t go.  I am feeling a desperate need to stay home, and will give in to the urge.

I send loving energy to all the people I know whose love relationships are over or in terrible, terrible peril. Couple of candles too.

Saw Irina Palm. LOVED every minute of it.

Ate at the Balkan House.  Loved every minute of that, too.  I hadn’t had a good schnitzel since Toronto.  What put me in mind was reading about Czehoski’s in the Toronto Star, and that made me think of Toronto, and its many culinary delights.  The Maharani on Queensway, which by a miracle is still there; Bumpkins is long gone of course, but many o many were the times we ate ourselves silly and happy there, and Tony was SUCH a doll… the Szechuan place on Spadina, whose name escapes, where the owner lost his licence and dispensed beer in teapots while he sweated out a six month suspension.  And he used to parade up and down between the tables with two crossed bandoliers full of fake projectiles. Colourful, I believe the word is. HUGE aquarium in the front of the restaurant, like really, almost floor to ceiling, big. The soft ice cream place way the hell and gone in Mississauga, out along the Lakeshore, so far out we had to pass in the shadow of the Four Sisters to get there (the stacks for the coal fired generators).  The Golden Griddle, the breakfast buffet place at the Etobicoke Toronto border the kids used to tease us to go to.

Mmmm.  Breakfast.  I haven’t done an all out breakfast in ages.  And without eggs or milk in the house, that age will age yet more.

Off to see Kopper tomorrow.  I know exactly what has derailed me, and I think a good dose of girlfriend will fix it.

News today (multispecies edition)

Even the sea lions want to get into the action.

Miss Margot goes back in the collar because she won’t stop licking the incision.  Grr, I hate putting her in it because it makes her nuts – or I should say, nuttier. Jeff and I played soccer with her last night.

Eddie came into my room and did NOT pee on anything.  He just wanted to hide in my closet.

India has decriminalized homosexuality.  Now, if they’d just criminalize Monsanto, the world would REALLY be a better place.

The world famous squirrel catapult.

awwwwwwwsome

Dominion Day Roundup

Stop gay marriage or straight women will have no husbands!!!! Eeek.

Folks, even if that is all true, how can the accompanying drop in the birthrate be bad for the planet? I love how bigotry gets dressed in ‘utilitarian’ arguments.  That said, any time I detect bigotry in others, I allow myself a quiet moment to reflect on my own.  Sigh.  It is hard to be a grownup.  PS, Mr. Berman (as reprinted by Mr. Klinghoffer), sex toy technology has come a long way since the Roman Empire.  Your concern for my satisfaction and prospect of landing a sperm donor is touching, but completely unnecessary.  After all, the POINT of marriage (the cart, after all, needing to come behind the horse) is BABIES.  And those I can get – did get – without recourse to marriage at ALL.

Oh look, Dan Savage linked to the above noted link and Klinghoffer says that Dan Savage can’t be a good father because he uses bad language!

One of these days I’ll have to find that bit of writing “How to Teach Your Children to Swear.”  What we didn’t teach the kids, back when, was that swearing is a class issue.  The very most self-controlled and self-willed people do not curse, because it shows either lack of breeding or lack of self-control. And self-control, narrowly defined, is a necessary precursor to maintaining control over others.  That’s what it’s all there for.  Swearing as far as I’m concerned is part of the palette of human communication; blunt, uncompromising, emotional, limbic, genuine.  Disgusting, disturbing, vile, creepy and disrespectful, too.  Swearing is a signpost toward the things we find most frightening and, let’s face it, human. As blasphemy, it is anti-hierarchical and owns of no master; as language charged with sexuality and excretions, it voices what we strive to keep silent in daily life; as racial and ethnic slur it speaks to how easily we fall back into our emotional enclaves to lash out at a world of strange/different/smelly&rude.

Best things about Canada.  Apart from Hockey, mea culpa, I’m in.

Look at that… Miss Margot has decided to like raspberry jam.  This is a cat from MARS.

I can now see large swathes of my bedroom floor, but more cleaning and laundry delights await me.  Later I hope to go to the Burnaby Village Museum – it’s free today, and in homage to John, who never paid for a damned thing he could get for free, and to celebrate being Canadian, I thought a step back into the days of my foremothers might not go amiss.

Cinnamon buns are medicinal.

Having said that, I’d better get a batch of bread dough on…. Jeff is highly suggestible about any hinted-at treats.  And I have to sign off so he can update wordpress.  Have a great Canada Day, everyone!

I have finally listened to John and Brooke’s album.  It’s really, really good.  It’s also, coincidentally, among the top sellers on CDbaby right now!  Katie and I listened in the CanCar yesterday.

Spent the day with Katie

Helped Katie with her job hunting.

Bought a dresser.  Previous landpeers paid back the deposit (to Jeff, not to me, but I don’t care, candidly).  I would like to publicly thank Jeff for dealing with this entire mess with his usual deft combination of skill, smarts and calm.

Then re watched True Blood (yeah… s’addiction, s’what?)

Rearranged my room somewhat and can see more floor.  Yay, me.

It just gets better and better

Depending on a number of things I have no control over, I probably won’t be going to Hot Springs Cove this weekend, and may end up in Castlegar instead.  More news as events warrant.

Dentist again today.

Then, helping Katie find work.  It’s good to be able to help her, and she’s feeling rather blah these days.

It was very emotional looking at John’s books.  Keith got the martial arts books, and I got the anarchism books, and Ruth will be looking after figuring out where the rest of them go.  The temptation to cherry pick nearly killed me but Paul fortunately restrained me.

True Blood ep 3 season 2 was AWESOME.  Eric totally kicked ass and Vampire Bill pulled out some angry angsty goodness.  The magical midget doctor from the books was PERFECT.  I mean, absolutely freaking perfect.  And it will be a recurring role, so I am really happy.  It just goes on and on being better and better and I’m really happy about that.

Paul asked “Do you miss work?” and I realized I had not actually thought about work in two or three days.  So either I’m knee deep in a nasty form of denial, or I am really not missing it.   Or I’m just keeping busy and finding other things, like Margot and my freaking teeth and my Unca Dave and the fact I prob’ly won’t knock a damned thing off my bucket list today.

Parm me maam has you seen my bukkit?

Pondfilk

Pondfilk / John’s memorial was great.  A neighbourhood stranger wandered in with his daughter and picked up the guitar and started singing Wish You Were Here and THAT was the point I had to flee.  I like two people singing that.  One of them is me, and the other is Mike, and this guy’s version was raucous and came close to being guitar abuse.

I wandered around the pond, talking to Katie on my cell phone, and cherishing the tech that allows me to do that, and all the men and women who maintain the network… because I could BE there for her while she was crying and unhappy about her life.  I told her to quit worrying so hard about finding a job.  To tell her to stop feeling bad about Dax – who has another girlfriend named Kayla now – is pointless, so I didn’t try that.  And I talked to her for 45 minutes.

My Unca Dave is going back for more radiation therapy in Kelowna next month.  He had a health blowout that sounded, and was, very scary, and I got the description from his own mouth yesterday in a phone conversation.  I chaffed him – people who are quite sick get sick of being treated with a pall of frightened solicitude, so I decided to be bracing, rather than go all, There There on him. 

Paul turned up at Pondside about 7 and we sang and played and talked until about 11, when I hauled him out of  there pleading exhaustion (no, it was some guy playing Wish You Were Here with no delicacy or spirit of overwhelmed longing).  Thank you mOm for putting up with both of us.

Breakfast (porridge and decaf coffee with skim milk and no sugar) has been consumed, and now Paul and I will turn to the great Stack of John’s Books and try to make some sense of them.

Carrie and her spouse John attended, it was lovely to meet John.  They are headed back up to Telegraph Creek soon.  She seems to think I’ll be going up there, but alas, unless I fly most of the way, or somebody gives me a ride in an extremely comfortable vehicle, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell.  The wine was awesome!

Douglas sang Bigfoot.  I updated John’s memorial site… the man who wrote, and taught John, “Hit them in the Bottom Line” Alan O’Dean, was there so I got the skinny on that song and by the blessings of reason, did we make a loud singing noise on the choruses.  Or Chori, as Douglas would say.  Also found out that the Mother Nature song was written by the Berrymans.

It will be sad to see them go.  With John dead, Juliana has little reason to stay in Victoria; she’ll be heading off to Columbus OH sometime later this year.  They have purchased a house there.  They’ll need somebody to stay in the house but she’s hoping to arrange that through church. 

I missed Tom and Peggy by minutes.  Sigh. Her bass on Tapioca is always something to look forward to.

The Devon Rexes, especially Sugar, previously shown on this blog, were in fine form, as was John’s erstwhile cat, Vincent.

Anyway, apart from a little residual sadness from talking to Katie, who really is having a rough go of it if her facebook posts are anything to go by, I am in a really happy, centered place.  So I guess I can be more or less guaranteed that something interesting and challenging is about to happen… cause you know, it never lasts.

progress report

1. Practiced “The Weight” by the Band. Practiced “That Godforsaken Hellhole I Call Home”. Practiced “The Exchange I Make”, “All the Con Men I have Known”, “Words Fail” (also known to my fans as the Telecom Song) and numbers of others. Found the lyrics for “Daybreak” and added to CESOAS. Entered most of “Grieg” on Songwriter, finished “Didn’t he Die?” (which was my memorial jig for Grandad – and just figuring out which TIME signature to put it in nearly killed me but aftet that it was okay), put finishing touches on John’s Song (AKA the Filker’s Farewell) including chords and performance instructions. Found YET another tune I had forgotten and wrote it down in the Canonical Excel Spreadsheet of Allegra’s Songs.  Hacked around in Garageband and may have a new instrumental.

2. Exercise. Not so much. Have much reduced beer intake and stopped drinking coffee.

3. Found, remembered the password for (phew!) most of my erotica, re-read it, and now have the strong urge to edit ALL of it. I can’t find the really really good one I wrote in Montreal, damnit. I need to revise it all; just tweaking.

4. Talked to Jeff about K-side.  I need to update the definitions and then he has plans to make it web based. w00t.

5.  Margot’s okay.  Everytime Eddie sees her with her cone on (which I have to leave on or she licks the incision point non stop) he hisses in dismay.  Scratch that, he just hisses every time he sees her, whether the cone is on or not.

6.  Waffles.

7. Laundry.

8.  I am struggling with the incompatible notions of somehow making an atheist liturgy legitimate or playing it strictly for laughs.  Of COURSE I want to make it hilarious “And on the Sunday closest to April Fools, the Reader shall wear a clown nose; and on the Sunday closest to December 25, the Reader shall wear a furry red hat with white trim…”  You get the idea. But that doesn’t fix the problem.  Keeping it all under fifteen minutes including the responsive reading will be pretty funny. And this is all part of the “Atheism is a religion” thing my Christian and other faith based friends, relatives and neighbours say.

9. Jehovah’s Witnesses.  She got past good morning how are you, and my response was, “Very well thank you but I don’t require any religious instruction today.”  Can’t you recruit on the internet like pedophiles and neoNazis and people who think contrails are a government plot? Derh.

10. Well, I’m never going to make the 9 am ferry at this rate, so I think I’ll dress and jump on the bus.  Sunday schedules suck.

I can haz dishwashr

Yes, indeed.  Jeff and I got in the car at 1 minute after 4, and in rush hour traffic we a) made it to our destination, a cash only appliance place just north of the Justice Institute on McBride b) parked c) examined three dishwashers d) made our choice e) split up while he made delivery arrangements and I deked south to the Shell station to get cash f) regrouped to pay for it g) burst out laughing simultaneously when the guy, who had already taken the delivery money but had no urge to deliver it, said, “What kind car you got?”so I said, “A sports car”  so he insisted on looking at the vehicle with a view to its suitability to have the dishwasher loaded onto it, triggering even more gales of laughter (you should have seen this guy’s face, it’s like buddy, where the bejabbers do you put a dishwasher in an MR2?) and h) drove home in 38 minutes.

Yes, I am concerned about Margot.  But I can still be enchanted by the world and crack jokes, c’est mon métier.

I only THOUGHT Miss Margot’s preop screen came back okay

Doc Mehdi says her platelet count is so low that if he operated now she’d bleed out.  Good thing I went for the pre-op screening.  One of two things is going on.  Either the results were f*cked up, AND they didn’t call me to tell us before Jeff took her in, or she’s genuinely sick (which, given her behaviour is virtually impossible to believe) and, I say again, how come nobody called? I quoted LM Montgomery when remonstrating with the doc this morning, “Sad mismanagement somewhere!”  So I have to pay for yet more tests but they are keeping her overnight for free.  Apparently no work is getting done in the office as all the assistants are ignoring the phone for a chance to play with her; she’s already giving orders and being carried about from place to place.  Nobody who has met Miss Margot will fail to see that it’s just as well somebody as heartless and callous as me got her, or she’d be ruling the world by now.  Honestly.  She’s not a cat, she’s a benevolent dictatrix in feline form.

Anyway, I am so heartless that if it turns out she’s a goner, I’m going to keep her skull.  It is an entirely remarkable shape, and I would mount it at the top of a staff as an extremely scary object.  I mentioned this to Jeff earlier and he was grossed out. Hope you are too.  Mind you, if she’s okay and they just screwed up her bloodwork, I’m going to find another vet, after the operation.  She has to be spayed, she’d die if she ever was bred to anything but a very tiny male purebred.  And in the meantime, if she doesn’t have cancer or untreatable thrombocytopenia, I guess I’m on the rack for a LOT of expensive vet bills.  Cazart.