Author: Allegra

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

After the snow the thaw

So around six a.m. I commenced to making waffles, and around seven we moseyed on down to the Stuporstore. Our departure was delayed by an accumulation on the car of glutinous snow.  The snow adhered to a depth of two inches (5 cm) all over the roof surface and covered the bottom half of the front windscreen. Trying to sweep it off was like trying to move concrete. Pounding it with your fist was pointless – this was a job for tools.  I went back into the house and procured one sturdy kitchen spoon and two plastic spatulas to chip the dense and crispy ice off the windscreen.  Bash, Bash.  Very satisfying.  I took some of the rime off with a credit card.  The car had been warming up for a number of minutes while Jeff adjusted the level of the snow so he could actually get out of the parking space.  After enough shoveling for Jeff to have gotten quite warm, we were ready to go.  Jeff rolled down his window about halfway, and about two seconds after he started heaving the car out of that abbreviated snowbank, his side of the car filled with footlong chunks of dense and abrasive snow, which had all merrily slid off the now-warm roof – and then continued to slide in, although not in quite so much quantity. It was like being on a movie set; the sun shone through the ice while it was happening. I began to suspect Jeff of setting it up for my entertainment, but on the other hand I didn’t think it wise to laugh.  After a brief and agonizing pause (all streets are one way now, since they are only one lane, so you’re constantly butting heads with people trying to go the other way, and Jesus God!  Mary, St. Patrick and St. Jude! what IS IT with Vancouver drivers and their signally failing to signal habit?  Must I even call them drivers, before the bones of all the saints?) Jeff had hucked as much of the snow overboard as possible and again we were on our way.

Earlier that day, in a rare show of weakness, I admitted to my brother that I had been running away with his plastic containers and eating them.  He owned that this was indeed a possible explanation for their continuing disappearances.  I, blushing furiously, stated that I thought eating them would somehow be less shameful than losing them, which was, indeed, what I had been doing with them.  He had had his suspicions. The leftovers departed the house, and neither they nor their containers ever returned. The world’s oldest, and saddest, story, don’t you think?

Eddie sleeps on my bed a good portion of every day.

Somewhere in there we watched Keira Knightley in Domino.  It’s an interesting movie that bites off much more than it can chew, but gets by on lightly done comic book charm.  It is a movie, in my opinion, of forgivable faults. When did Christopher Walken get the “I must appear in every Hollywood movie in a substantial bit part?” contract?  Damn!

I know I am a traitor to my kindred, but I prefer Keira Knightley as Lizzie Bennett to any others I have seen. As Domino she’s all haircut and bravado, not her best role.

I have an appointment with some pork chops.  I intend to ingest broccoli, with a smidge of dressing.  I see a salad, embellished with those new grape tomatoes that taste so good.  But all these things will not be unless I arise and make them to happen, and I should chop almonds for biscotti.  That is if anybody wants some.

Three whole days off

I have a list of things to do which includes:

Usual Life Maintenance

Food shop… no veggies! bad girl!

Heading off to Renfrew Pool at least once this weekend.

Checking into the family history website to see my mom’s blog… I find it weewy fwustwating that her blog is password protected! Okay, I can take that off my list of things to do.  My mOm is a very busy woman and I very much appreciate her family history work.

More biscotti…

It would be nice if at some point I picked up the mandolin!  I have not been feeling like practicing at ALL.

And of course more messing about wit’ Garageband.

Happy New Year

So Keith, Paul and I were at Jarmo and Susana’s last night, and once again performed the stannomancy.  Katie and Jeff chose the better part – to stay home, and not to drink!

NOT A SINGLE PERSON had money for 2009.

Not one.  Out of fifteen people. You may recall Dr. Filk was told that he’d get money two thirds of the way into the year and found it laughable, and then went from John’s Jukes to Earl’s at a considerable increase in rate.  But it also said there was a baby in his future so you can’t b’lieve everything the tin tells you.

My year is smooth, and expanding, for 4/5ths of it, and then there’s a hell of a twist at the end.  I’ll post pics at some point… I actually have to pull everything off my camera and stick it someplace where those interested may view them… I still haven’t posted the Louvre, and I should, but that was, candidly, one hell of a trip and I get kind of shaky when I go anywhere near those memories.

Anyway, it was a lovely, congenial crowd, and there was even a lovely dog named Kona (lab setter cross, from the coat) who was being dogsat by some of the attendees.

Snowed more.  Lots more.

; why is the rum always gone?  Between us all we killed a forty pounder, and I had two triples so I definitely helped.  I’m still hanging on the edge of a migraine so I’d better get off the computer now.

And, via an LJ buddy, Neil Gaiman’s blessing:

I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you dream dangerously and outrageously, that you make something that didn’t exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked. And most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now) that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.

questions

Okay, now that Jeff’s watched the last of the True Bloods for this season, I can ask the following questions of an uncaring universe.

What the hell is Sookie going to do when she meets Jessica (world’s most annoying teenaged vampire and made by Bill)?

What the hell is Bill going to do when Sookie finds out about Jessica (he already said sorry, but Sookie didn’t know what for…)?

Is that Lafayette’s corpse or unconscious body?  If his corpse, is it possible that he might be made and now be a vampire?  Who killed him if he’s dead?

If it isn’t Lafayette, is that Tara’s mum’s body and we’ve been faked out?  I doubt it because the writers pretty much play fair with the audience.

What kind of magickal creature is Maryann, where does she know Sam Merlotte from, why isn’t he warning Tara?  If she’s not a shifter, is she some kind of Celtic minor deity?  The pig is amazing, by the way.

Why the hell did Sam clean out his safe?  Where’s he going with the money, and why?  What other properties does he own in Bon Temps, and why? 

Anybody else find it kinda creepy that Sookie turned Bill over to face the daylight and Sam had to haul him inside (after getting his ribs kicked in!) so Bill didn’t fry?  We know that Sam’s a dog and therefore a loyal kinda guy, but this is taking self-sacrifice to interesting extremes.

WHO DID BILL FEED ON?

What the hell is Jason Stackhouse doing in a church? Nothing good can come of this.

What plot twists is Terry Bellefleur being saved for?  He becomes increasingly important over the last two episodes, and has the single best line. “I don’t listen to politics anymore, I get a seizure.”

Is Detective Bellefleur going to smarten up?

Is Tara being hypnotized by Maryann?  Is Eggs an aspect of Maryann?  He sure talks like her!

Is Maryann more than one person at the same time? 

Was the pie eating dude not one of the greatest bit characters in the show so far? 

Is Mr. Skarsgard not awesome? I like Pam too, she’s SO matter of fact.

Was Amy a skanky and sociopathic ho or just a self-indulgent hippie chick?  We’ll never know, but that final scene was incredibly shot.

Was the guy who plays Jason deliberately cast because he looks like a hot young version of George W. Bush?  The resemblence is pretty funny…

Anybody else notice the one point in the show when the guy who plays Bill completely lost his accent?

Back to work

I only have three days of work and then another 4 days off. I will probably have forgotten how to turn my PC on this morning it’s been so long since I looked at one.

The cats (or cat) peed and pooed on my clothing and bedding in Jeff’s absence, but all is forgiven; Gizmo grabbed my hand with both paws the other day to convey it to his head in the international cat sign language of PET ME YOU THUMBED FOOL!  (THUMBED being two syllables, natch).  Also Eddie did the same thing he did the last time he was talking to Jeff on the phone, which is to nuzzle the phone and start purring.

It was so slushy yesterday, it was like being trapped in a tasteefreeze machine that had run out of food colouring, except, well, iccky brown.

Sarah Palin, can you see Russia from your house?

Polar Bear, Polar Bear, Go Away.

Dreams & food & rellies

I have a cloth cap to keep the snow offa me
I have a cloth cap to keep the snow offa me

I stopped writing about my dreams in my blog because I read it was one of the worst and most self indulgent things you can write about.  So when I tell you that last night I dreamed that my laptop caught fire, filk went mainstream (songbooks in chain bookstores?) and I met a True Blood cast member getting a humanitarian award for bloodrelated research, be assured it was an amazing experience.

Snow has turned to drizzle.

Biscotti – quite good biscotti – has been made.  Today I’ll make and freeze turkey à la king.

The back deck appears intact.

My distaste for alcohol continues.

The carrot salad Paul sent me home with in the magic bag of leftovers is so good I got up and had it for a midnight snack.  This is while there was Brie in the fridge, mind you, just to give you some basis for comparison.

Speaking of leftovers I think I’ll nuke up the leftover sweet potato with Brie on top.  I’m so suggestible.

Holy cow

Tony the landpeer just came over and told me to stay the hell off the back porch – the posts and the roof are buckling under the weight of the wet snow and he’s afraid I’ll get caught out there.  Now I’m wondering if I should move the bikes off the back deck but there’s no place to put them.  Also, what about the barbecue?

Urk.