busy cooking

It was quite a weekend for cooking.  I made rum drops (cheap version of rum ball, and not super successful because I didn’t use powdered sugar), pork roast with the trimmings, massively unsuccessful pie crust, and apple filling for the pie crust.  I also made macaroni and cheese, and that was an unqualifiied success, and I also added sauce to the chick peas I cooked, so they are now officially yummy.

It is with some annoyance that I have made the determination that the skin goop I bought for forty dollars a tube always makes my skin break out, and the stuff I got for free from London Drugs, which has enough perfume in it to fell an ox, doesn’t.

Paul and Keith came over for dinner and we watched a really cool show about the four winged ancestor of birds.

How shall I rescue the pie crust?  I am at a loss.

Next one will be a hole in the wall

The sunset, annoyingly enough, didn’t cooperate, but the rest of yesterday evening was loads of fun.  I finally have a date for meeting Sammy (my date’s dog); that will be next Sunday afternoon.  I am going to secrete a couple of milkbones about my person and then I should do fine.

Horizons Restaurant is just as excellent as it ever was, and I will be thinking about the Arctic Char for a while – it was superlative.  By mutual consent, our next meal will be someplace much less classy.

I always did want to know how to wash my hair in space

And now I know.

A map of the grow ops in Toronto. The reason I’m posting this is because if you did the same map of Vancouver, you wouldn’t be able to read the street names.

I post this link as possibly being useful to my mother in generating pictures in collage format, you know, family history pictures.

I know we all have favourite charities, but this looks kinda useful.

David Byrne last night

Set list included

I Zimbra

Strange Overtones

One Fine Day

Help Me Somebody

Life During Wartime

Crosseyed and Painless

Take me to the River

Heaven

Born Under Punches

AND IT WAS GREAT.  Taking transit to the Queen Elizabeth Theater was easy and quick.

Now all I gotta do is stay out of the kitchen so I don’t eat or drink anything and thus don’t mess up my test results today.  Then I get the 5 suckered octopot that is a holter monitor off and get my bloodwork finished.  And then I’m going to come home and maybe do some domestic stuff (we are watching the microwave slowly die and may need to replace it) and then maybe Keith comes over with his friend A. the anime fan who is from Germany, and maybe they won’t come over because she’ll be all tuckered out from meeting her own rellies here in town.  They have met IRL and stayed in touch on line. Then I get ready for my date tonight, I’m taking him to Horizon and hopefully I won’t be late like I was last time and we’ll be able to watch the sunset from up on that hill, which on a fine day is really pretty.  In the middle there I will likely do some cooking – I’m thinking rum balls – and watching a movie – but on the other hand I’m thinking I want to get out of the movie phase and go back to reading books, so I’m also thinking a trip to the library, except I can’t find my stupid library card.

And I want my hat.  I misplaced my hat and I am going to see if I can get it back.

I love a sunny day

The sun has been out in Vancouver for days, the big dump of snow I gloomily forecast for the middle of February has failed to appear (Yay!!! I was wrong!), I got another date for Saturday night (this time I’m taking him to Horizons, my dime), I’m going to get a holter monitor this morning (and prob’ly half a dozen tubes of blood, blech), I’ll see David Byrne tonight with Jeff (Kopper indicated interest, note to self, talk to her before buying tix), Jeff and I watched the last half of Them (the CLASSIC giant insect fear film) and the new CSI and we ate curried chickpeas and brown rice for dinner.  I made pudding out of the leftover rice (I should probably get it off the back deck before the burglars get into it).

It’s now clear and cold in the city; there’s a skin of frost on the surfaces which will vanish with the sun.

I must filk it.

These are the times that try men’s souls. In the course of our galaxy’s history, the people of the Milky Way have rallied bravely whenever the rights of homo sap have been threatened. Today, a new crisis has arisen. The Milky Way Transit Authority, better known as the M.T.A., is attempting to levy a burdensome tax on the population in the form of a far increase. Citizens, hear me out! This could happen to you!

(Eight bar guitar, banjo introduction)

Well, let me tell you of the story of a man named Charley
on a tragic and fateful day.

He put ten g-notes in his pocket, kissed his wife and family,
went to ride on the M.T.A.

Chorus:
Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and
his fate is still unknown.
(What a pity! Poor ole Charlie. Shame and scandal.
He may ride forever. Just like Paul Revere.)
He may ride forever in those graffiti spattered rockets.
He’s the man who never returned.

Charlie handed in his gnotes at the Galactic Center Station
and he changed for Sag A Rocket.
When he got there the conductor told him, “Five more gnotes.”
Charlie couldn’t find any in his pocket.
(Chorus)
Now, all night long Charlie rides through the station,
crying, “What will become of me?!!
How can I afford to see my sister in Nu Aquilae
or my cousin in P Cygni?”
(Chorus)
Charlie’s wife goes down to the Galactic Center Station
every day at quarter past two,
And down the disk accretion she hands Charlie a sandwich
as the rocket comes rumblin’ through.
(Chorus)
Now, you galactic citizens, don’t you think it’s a scandal
how the people have to pay and pay?
Fight the fare increase! Vote for Creede Lambard!
Get poor Charlie off the M. T. A.
(Chorus)
He’s the man who never returned.
He’s the man who never returned.
Ain’t you Charlie?

Me singing “Health Wolves” at Conflikt II plus other necessary pictures.

Don’t I look pleased with myself.  Thanks Lady Miss Banjola.

Health Wolves was written as an insta-filk at the Saturday Brunch.  I missed the Saturday brunch last year and this year I got to sit next to Frank Hayes.  I would describe him as acerbically charming  o.0 and exhausted.

Dr. Filk at the Two-fer.

Peggy, armed and dangerous.

Frank “U Scum” Hayes, sufferer of “Frank Hayes Disease” and also the writer of “Never Set the Cat on Fire”.

Yes, that is a homemade theremin, and I heard it, and it rocked, but the sign says, “Will not play for $1/minute.”

All pics credit Lady Miss B.

Lots of links

Biggest space disaster. Dr. Filk told me about this some years ago.

Gahan Wilson explains it all for you. The SF movie plot generator.

Oh look, a rat playing banjo…. and standup bass.

Once upon a time I made up a character named Pockets.  She was an alien and she carried everything she needed.  Now, there’s Eric le Fou.

Fellow Performers!  How to craft a good set list.

D’oh, a deer.

You will notice my mother’s blog is now on the blogroll.

Gerald dear, when are you going to start blogging????

I have Scottish blood, so I’m allowed to laugh

HRNK!

I fed Katie and Dax last night, at Brentwood because Dax is not 100% with the welcome mat here and Katie didn’t bother telling me until I was committed that Dax was with her, then came home and saw Jeff hauling in a ten kilo bag of flour, which is a good thing, because there was no flour in the house, and we all know what that means.  No waffles. I’m not saying that me continuing to live with Jeff is contingent upon me making waffles at least once a week, but I’d like to not take any chances.

The Luddite resurfaced in my inbox long enough to forward about ten links to educational videos from Vivid Entertainment.   I only watched half of one; I am not sure I want to advertise myself as being someone who needs remedial sex ed.

I highly recommend 101 Reykjavik.