Author: Allegra

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

Just a little choked with the landlord

I really don’t feel like paying any more rent.  The landlord just moved everything off the back deck and started ripping down the back porch – two weeks of banging and inconvenience, and the cats will be fucking crazy by the time it’s all over.  I’ve come to rue not going in to work today.  Paul and his sisters don’t need any of my help so I’m just sitting around crying.  Yes, Lois and Ruth are in town, I have no idea when I’ll see them, and I shouldn’t bother them right now as they have mountains of crap to deal with.

Anyway, he said he’d cover the gas bill.  Mmmm.  I think they’ll be covering more than that before this is all over.  Now I’m off to inspect the first house I lived in when I moved to Vancouver, as it is for rent soon.  A whole house, for what we’re paying now.

So long.

A long way down

I know I am moving and walking and talking, but there is a deep feeling in me that I’ve forgotten something.  And then I’ll remember that John is dead.  I make breakfast, and then run back to my computer to post another link I just remembered to add to his memorial site.

Juliana, his housemate for the last two years, sent me a very sweet message.  I send you a hug, dear one.  There will be a memorial service in Victoria as well; the folk musicians he played with there very much wish to celebrate his life, and I hope it’s a day I can go.  There will likely be a memorial in Ontario too…. a lot of people knew him and loved him.

The only way I can properly memorialize him is by singing and playing more.  And god almighty, I never felt less like doing it.  Every time I look at my musical instruments, I flinch.  No comfort there yet.

something cute

bunny plus pig

Homily went well.  I will post eventually. (it’s in homilies now) Tom and Peggy, bless them, invited me and Brooke and Paul and Keith over for lunch yesterday and we tried to lever ourselves out of our grief, which at times swamps us, with some planning.  Paul and Keith came back here long enough for dinner and to distract ourselves with some tv and finally I collapsed into sleep.  Now it is two in the morning and I know that if I don’t put down this computer right away I’m going to end up getting no more fracking sleep.

Miss Margot had one tiny matted bit in her fur and gummy eyes – which Keith took care of – but was otherwise unaffected by my absence.

We all have massive lists of things to do.

Despite it all

Life goes on.  I have put the finishing touches on the homily and I will now be getting up and getting started on my day.

On the way home I said to Paul that I was not happy about spending the night away from him and Keith, so I’m at Planet Bachelor right now.  Keith is struggling.  There is so much that can’t be put into words, and he’s trying to make sense of it, something senseless and stupid.  It’s so unfair.

Jim P is counselling us not to rush the memorial service.  The dead stay dead, and the living need time to gather their resources to do a proper job of the memorial.

In Victoria

mOm and pOp have a full house so Keith, Paul and I are in a bed and breakfast about five minutes’ drive from their house.  Sometime in the next half an hour I’m going to get up and abandon the joys of free wireless internet and get dressed and go downstairs to breakfast, which starts around 7:30.  Then we’ll go visit Granny, and then the parents, and then Dr Filk.

Lady Miss Banjola, who is unabashedly anxious to speak to her long time musical partner and see for herself how he’s doing, joined us for the trip across the Strait (and dinner) last night.  Dr. Filk’s accident aside she appears to be doing famously, and I look forward to her album release later this summer (details about the album and its acquisition will be posted at that time).

The B&B is a suburban house.  I don’t know where this bed came from, but it’s the best bed for sleeping, both in terms of the pillows and the mattress, that I can recollect in many moons.  My bed at home feels like a rock pile by comparison.

I think I’m getting an abscessed tooth.  Grr.

I miss la Margot and Eddie and Gizmo.

I will report on Dr. Filk after I’ve seen him, but Pondside denizens report that the orthopod states that the foot operation went absolutely as well as could be hoped for the range of the injuries and the condition of the patient.  Don’t know if it’s true, but that sure sounds hopeful.  The drunk who t-boned him on his Burgmann has assumed 100% of the responsibility.

Looking forward to the homily tomorrow….

showjumping bunnies and bad nooz

With some irritation and dread, I must announce that Jeff and I will be finding new headquarters for Geek House in 60 days, that being the notice we were given by the landpeers.  It’s been a great run, but now we must move….  We are trying to figure out what the hell we’re going to do next, but there’s no point looking hard for a place when nothing will be visible for another month, and although Jeff and I are still tracking a house purchase as a possible future outcome, house prices in Vancouver are still outrageously high for what you get.

And by contrast, bunnies.

My feline superior

Miss Margot and I are now in sync about keeping her washed and brushed; she’s agreed to stop pooping on herself, and I’ve agreed to use a much more pleasant and comfy brush.  As a result domestic harmony is much improved.  Now, if she would just stop using Jeff’s computer desk as a jungle gym when he’s trying to work, and then crying piteously outside his door when he casts her into the outer darkness (basically, anywhere where there are no people) life’d be pretty much rocking.