Author: Allegra

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

Off I go to work.

As usual, I’m running late.  Fed the boys pierogies, veg and salad – and I am not going to do that again anytime soon, because between the sour cream and frying the pierogies in bacon fat I had heartburn last night like a widdy firestorm in my tummy.  Urp.  Luddite brought chocolate, as usual….  Yum.  Oh, and also another bike chain for the deck.  He had a dreffle shiner from where a bike wheel jumped off a rack and hit him in the face.  With any other guy I know, I would have said a jocular “What’d the other guy look like?” but I knew it was an accident with the Luddite.  I cannot imagine him resorting to fisticuffs unless it was that or death.  He could have been up at four to greet the dawn with the Morris Men – a fine pagan tradition – but for some reason decided not to.

Over at Patricia’s

Patricia fed me and Jeff last night.  We had a really good time and at the end of the evening I said there was no fracking way I was transiting home.  It’s only a 20 dollar cab ride back from her place, which I file under ‘good to know’.  The Luddite is by this evening.

My god, we were talking about Vegemite last night! Now it’s in the news.

Patricia mocked me for my tarot reading ways – justifiably so.  Now I can’t tell if the long journey over water her last cards foretold is about an exotic vacation or just a nod to how we always go into the third floor can to gossip. Oh, if only I could interpret it!  Oh, and looky here!  More animated floor mop action!

One Leg West

Please note I have added my buddy Dave’s new (and fracking FANTASTIC) professional photography website to my blogroll.  If you’re into karate CHECK THE SPORTS PHOTOS.  They are awesome.  For those of you who have been in my bathroom, Dave’s the guy who gave me “Our Dumb World” which will provide hours of amusement to those requiring entertainment while in the room of easement. 

Barbecue & sundry

The new barbecue got baptized in animal fat last night; Jeff seared three very creditable porkchops and I hacked away at the rest of dinner.  I received a phone call which got me thinking further along the lines of spring, and included an adjuration for me to be ‘more fun’; I have prepared a response for that but unleashing it would involve buying mental bleach for everyone who ever reads this blog.  Jeff and I finished Deadwood season 2.  That’s the one where Al is actually smiling a genuine smile for the last frame.

I hope everybody is thinking about having a great day.   I know I am.  I am not thinking about my taxes; I have filed that under U for Unpleasant, at least for the time being.  It’s not as if the feds aren’t pulling money out of my pocket with every fracking breath I take.

I lost my bank card – again.  Good thing I have another bank account at another bank.

I walked to and from the bus loop at work with ScaryClown yesterday.  Virtually every conversation of his starts with the expression “I was watching a documentary yesterday” and yesterday was no exception.  He had his umbrella with him, so he demonstrated how the little pink cheeked, pigtailed girls of the Cultural Revolution in China were trained to yell “Shia!” and mime disembowelling roundeyes.  All the way down from the bus loop.  I love him dearly, but sometimes…..

I should plan the next falldown.  I need to get everything breakable up off the floor.  I need to unpack, and a hundred thousand other things.  But right now, I need another cup of coffee, and I’m going to go to work.  The 27 bus is working properly again; the stop at Rupert and 22nd is functioning, which makes transiting easier in the morning.  My clothes are all clean and put away; my bed is made.  Perhaps I’m running a temperature.

Migraine aura yesterday.  I have learned that when they come in midday, if I sit tight and don’t look at a computer screen for about half an hour, or go outside and get a breath of air, I don’t get a full bore headache.  Thinking happy thoughts assists.

I never did this to my mother

But now I really want to try Marshmallow Fluff.

Eddie made me howl with laughter about an hour ago.  He draped his tail over the wireless keyboard in the living room and got the keyboard beep going off through the speakers in the big tv.  Jeff is sitting up and his expression says, “What dat noise?” and then he gently removes the tail.  Eddie continues to sit there regally.  Oh I wish I were a cat.

It’s spring, and I am about to get maudlin, so goodnight.

Church

Oh yea, church.  The topic was Beyond Welcoming.  In 2003-2004 Beacon went through the ‘Welcoming Congregation’ process.  More info here.  It’s a process where the entire congregation goes through examining homophobia and transphobia and all the hurtful, societal messages about the worth and dignity of LGBTIfolk.  I was involved in that process as a facilitator (not to the extent Peggy was, but some) and I figured given the topic I’d better go.  I really enjoyed the service, but didn’t hang around for the AGM afterwards.

Monday rain

It was raining in my inbox, too. Chipper sent this link, with the comment ‘looks like an animated floor mop’. The Luddite is threatening flour, with strawberries. (He has both in excess of requirements currently).
Jeff and I walked for about half an hour in the rain yesterday (wandered over to Jerome’s for the french fry cutter). We walked through a curtain of falling cherry blossoms, so I whistled “Sakura” while he scowled gently. I don’t think he’s ever going to get used to me bursting into song in public, and I guess he doesn’t have to. I should just stop, or find people who don’t immediately wish that I had the Nelson Riddle Orchestra hidden under a flowerpot as accompaniment.
Somebody asked permission to record the Tapioca Song. I said sure, and gave them the link to the music sheet on my site. Just to round things out, Paul says he made tapioca in the microwave a few days back. I accused him of being a barbarian. He says the trick is gentle heat. Hmph.

Edgar Kitty ran up and down the hallway like an insane thing early this morning. When he decided to slow down, he barfed. Repeatedly. In a tone I’ve never heard a cat use in barfing. Essentially, he has a basso profundo barf; imagine, if you will, that Ivan Rebroff is horking up a furball in a series of staccato coughs, and that is what Eddie sounds like. Jeff and I got up to deal with the menace to bathroom navigation that is kitty puke, and I’m still up eating brekky and watching the sun come up through a veil of cloud and rain. The kitties like it when I sit here as I don’t have to move to open the back door.
Watched Across the Universe and more Deadwood, after we got back from our nice drenching walk.  Mind you, the dampness was mitigated when Jerome tucked some of Sergey and Megan’s salmon and veggies into my hand on the way out – they had it in excess of requirements and it was DAMNED good.