Author: Allegra

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

Sundry & Various

Obama vs Clinton…. detailed legislative lists. I was more interested in the emotional content, but that’s just me.
Best sellers in Canada this week. John Grisham continues his stranglehold on the reading public.

I think this stuffed bear thing has gone TOO FAR Not safe for prudes

I’m doing my best to work this pic into a story, but I’m drawing a blank so far. All ages pic.

Funny story about what dogs will do to get attention… and food. Language.

Took me a second to figure out what was going on here. Then I burst out laughing. All ages pic.

The Old Testament in Lego. Not safe for prudes.

Ho lee crap. All ages.

Father’s Day is coming! language.

Probably fake, but still very funny. Passport application letter. Language.

It’s raining. A crow just flew past my window. I have to buy printer ink today. I’d like to call Keith but it’s too early still. And my thoughts are just bouncing around gently.

I think I’ll make a big list of things to do this weekend… I have no commitments, and that feels good.

A small but appreciative audience.

I read my story-so-far to the Luddite, who is now encouraging me to finish it, and making suggestions, including less talk and more action.  ‘Twas ever thus!  About some things men are quite consistent.

Dragged my surly self into the office an hour early to learn about setting up queues for the VOIP lines.  My head  buzzed like a thwacked beehive and I was insufficiently slept and caffeinated to actually take on anything resembling information.  Fortunately the day got better although I felt like I could have used toothpicks to keep my eyes open.

“Scarred for life”

The Luddite sent me this…. in the comments somebody remarked that they will be scarred for life for having seen it.  Personally I’m not, but a music video of Tiny Tim performing a cover of “Do ya think I’m sexy?” is one of the more powerfully strange things I’ve seen in some time.  Al Jolson’s effect on American culture ain’t dead yet, let’s just say that.

Sick still

Oh, my, Lord, I am SO tired of coughing.  Woke up at 3 and worked another thousand words on my new softcore epic.  I made the mistake of thinking about what would happen if all of my current fave people ended up in the same room.  Zow!!!! No, Johnny Depp isn’t in there.  I’m thinking real life, as we laughingly refer to it. 

Willie P Bennett is dead, at home, in Peterborough

I must thank Chipper for bearing me these sad tidings.

Two mornings after Keith was born, Willie P phoned me and asked if he could come see the child, having received word from Paul that his firstborn had arrived.

He showed up reeking of cigarettes and alcohol.  My mother, radiating primate female on guard, watched him closely.   But it was merely a man lying on our bed and absorbing the experience of being with a tiny newborn child, which he did for the best part of an hour.

I had another anecdote, but I’ll leave it for the memorial service.
One time, Willie P told us a story about how he got an allergic reaction so badly – while on tour – that the hives started going down his throat.  With great difficulty he got himself to a hospital in either Edmonton or Calgary and as he sat in the exam room waiting for a doctor, the curtain kept getting pulled back and there’d be another med student standing there goggle-eyed.  He or she would say, “They’re RIGHT, you ARE the worst case of hives they’ve ever seen!” and then the curtain would close again.

He wrote a lot – a LOT – of songs, good ones.  “Willie’s Diamond Joe” is one of my favourite tunes, and “Why’d I Go Zydeco” is on my playlist.  He wrote “Music in your eyes” for a member of Paul’s family.  He used to show up at dinner time at Paul’s mum’s place all the time.
In later years he played mandolin.  Everything is connected.  Rest in peace, Willie the P.

Long trip home

I got on the ferry at 5:30 due to a volume delay (I’d been aiming for 4), and cleared my door at home at precisely 9 pm.  I then drew a bath and contemplated my weekend past including all the movies, teed up a date with the Luddite for next week, and talked to another friend on the phone for a bit.  Then we went gah! it’s 11 pm and we both gotta work tomorrow, and so to bed.  It’s Presidents Day so the phone should be slow.  I have a pretty bad cough; there’s been a doozy going round the office.

My aunt Mary picked me up a copy of Eric Frank Russell’s WASP, a book so full of richness that I re-read it at least every couple of years, and have done so since I was about 11.  Wonderful book.  When I write, I try really hard to write like Eric Frank Russell.