Category: Church

Face blindness

I just took a face blindness test at Faceblind.org and got 71 out of 72 faces correct.  I always would have thought myself better at recognizing faces than average, but to avoid bias I put myself down as average.  I’m going to ask family members to take the test.

Saw Jessica yesterday at the store.  She gave me a big hug, which is always welcome.

Church was awesome.  I for one give very ‘Apollonian’ homilies and this one “What I learned from Photography” was NOT intellectual at all, very heart centered and beauty centered, and a nice change it was.

Talked to Tammy, and how good to hear her voice.

I can haz clean clothes. Also got rid of 2 bags of clothes and gave my guitar tie dye shirt to one of the youths at church.

The soup for the soup lunch went over very well.  I stayed for clean up as I didn’t notice anybody volunteering for that, and then I drove Carol home.  Made hazelnut biscotti and chicken in gravy.

 

 

A selection of Valentines

I’m at an appointment this morning so I won’t be going to work to hand out Valentines, but I will share this with you. I thought of doing it yesterday afternoon but it was cooking and laundry after I got home and I couldn’t get excited about printing them out.

Guess I’m just lazy.  Snurk.

Homily went well.  Double snurk.  I took half the biscotti in and that worked out well… Peggy took the leftovers.

Most mornings I awaken

to the sound of Jeff tapping on his keyboard.  Sometimes it’s a cat and that staccato defooding sound in some very long-to-be-discovered corner.  Sometimes it’s the smell of a skunk penetrating through the window; sometimes it’s my natural clock, which spits me back out into consciousness anywhere between 2 and 7 am.  Sometimes it’s a leg cramp, and that’s what I got this morning.  I woke to pain pain pain and had a hell of a time getting my foot flat to the ground to get the muscle stretched out and the muscle – the same one I blew out running for the bus the year after I hurt my back – is still grumbling and hot.  Ah, but pain is what tells you that you’re alive.

Daughter Katie came over last night.  I picked her up after work (Dax tried to scare me by materializing next to my car window, but Katie had the kindness to warn me, so I let him know that he WOULD have given me a heart attack if I hadn’t been warned.  He also told me the size of his paycheck, which was respectable for his age and educational level) and then fed her and Jeff home baked schnitzel and veg, and we talked and watched CSI and the Mentalist, which amusingly enough had identical plots, and then we walked up to 7-11 where I got her bus tickets and milk and eggs for myself, waited with her for her bus and then walked home.  Canada Way is so noisy for pedestrians it’s practically deafening; two streets in Jeff and I enjoy a very peaceful little enclave, no barking dogs or noisy neighbours, and yet we’re smack in the center of Edmonds, 10th, Kingsway and Canada Way, all busy arterial streets.  We do get train noise at night as it echoes in the Fraser Valley and comes up the hill; we get the eerie booming noises at night that are actually special effects explosions down in that movie set off of Marine down in the flats; and we get airplane noise a fair bit, although rarely at very low levels, and hardly ever helicopter noise, which scares the crap out of me.

Soon there will be a visit by the rest of Paul’s family to abide for a while in the bosom of the alternative justice system of BC.  I have decided that with all my quirks and drama I’m best off staying away.  My mother is hosting them and that will be the right end of the family to shelter and help them while this goes on; who can say what will happen but I earnestly hope for some closure and a feeling that it’s what John would have wanted rather than a trial and jail for the woman whose inattentive driving killed him.

I am very seriously thinking of either giving Ziva to a family member or selling her.  I have taken so much pleasure in owning her that it may seem a little odd, but if I’m going to be that close to the new location of the office and I can still borrow Jeff’s car occasionally to shop, I should be in good shape to have enjoyed her and then released her back into the wild.  Neither of the kids have evinced much interest because they don’t really have the cash flow.

Ocelots at the Seattle zoo.

I am waiting for Jeff to awaken so I can cook him breakfast.  Finn pancakes and coffee; I’m going to have mine with applewood smoked cheddar.

I have shippiles of work to do today; I have Valentines to create.  I am planning on sneaking into work on Sunday after church and putting them in people’s mail trays.  Every year it’s the same thing.  People are travelling, or they never check their mail trays, and the next thing you know you’re getting thanked for the Valentine on March 1st.

I brought home the flowers Jeff and the folks gave me and they are still gorgeous and sweetly scented.  I know cut flowers are frowned on by some people in my connection, but I will never frown.  Their colour and scent brightened my work area and made many other people happy but me for the balance of the week, and now they’ll be pretty in my kitchen until they’re done.

I send a hug into the ether for Lady Miss B and warm wishes to her hub and miniB, and a big old mushy group hug for Tom and Peggy, my folks and brother (nearly typed bother, and that was NOT my intent), Scott for digging up the name of the psychologist for me, my coworkers Mike Y and Hassan and Kev and Patricia, and I blow kisses at Veronica.  Sneetchy scowling at some other folks for workpain, but I won’t name them. More hugs for Rev. Katie who visited me in sickness and hell that’s what ministers are s’posed to do, and Sue, Carol, Kathleen and Gary for a really good board meeting.  I wish the contractors working on the new building the time, money and safety to do a good job.

I wish a lot of things.  It’s strange to think that this time last week I wished for nothing but cessation of wishing.

Life is good.  I’m going to go work on Dandelions Dreaming now, it’s the best thing I can think of for Peggy’s birthday.  Later today I’m going to talk to Jeff about capturing video from games so I can do something really kickass for Left4Dead/Rising in a Zombieland Redemption, which is the new and deliberately awkward title for my zombie choon, and it may get even longer, at which point I’ll shorten it again.  Such is the creative process; you put your best shit in, you take you best shit out, you put your best shit in, and you shake it all about.

W00t

Off to the Big 6 for brekky.  I’m leaving straight for work after that.

Didn’t mention I had my planning for this year meeting with my boss yesterday.  I told him about my challenges and he is supportive.  We slogged through some stuff that was quite hard, brainstormed a bit and then he made it clear to me why I respect him so much.  He knows what’s important, full stop.

I have long since finished the homily for Sunday but now I’m working on the framing words to take people into and out of the homily without freaking them out too badly.  I think I will manage nicely; we’ll see on the day.

Happy sigh for meals with friends

Man when the hell did I get old enough to have a friend for 45 years?  C’est bizarre, ça.

Anyway, Bonnie has a few grey hairs and perhaps her smile lines are a little more chiselled than I remember, but she is STILL BONNIE, the petite and energetic and outdoorsy and powerfully intelligent friend of my childhood who looks at least 15 years younger than her lying ass birth certificate, and she is a happy person to be around.

We watched pictures of John on the laptop and Bonnie brought a photo album which had pictures of her mom and John and various rellies in happier times.  I took some pics but I won’t post them without permission.

The Royal City Thai restaurant is assenkicken.  They must get by on the lunch trade, the joint was deserted the entire time we were there but the food was nothing short of spectacular.  It was $130 with tax and tip for five hungry adults, there was about one meal’s worth of leftovers, and there was alcohol too… gosh the soup was stellar.  Service stellar too.  Attentive without being pestery.  A find, I must say.

Keith and Kate both came AND I AM SO HAPPY about a) Paul suggesting it and b) how happy Bonnie was to see them and vice versa.  Katie got to see the only surviving picture of John on a skateboard.  I said to her afterwards that alone was worth the price of admission.  Who’da thunk it? Gave Katie and Keith rides home.  Jeff’s subpar and didn’t attend but there’s a whole host of gut wrenching bacteria writhing around the GVRD these days; I hope they don’t sink their little pseudopods into him too far.

Ziva is burning lots of oil.  I should check levels before setting out tomorrow, and I’m probably looking at engine work.  Jeebus, I ain’t paid for the last lot yet.  I have to stay alive, I have two dependents, one metal, one furry.

I couldn’t find the god forsaken USB microphone, so I bought another one.  If the original turns up I’ll give it to Paul.  I tried to buy a slide whistle but they didn’t have one. Twelve on order and no slide whistles, what’s this world coming to. I MUST HAVE A SLIDE WHISTLE. It’s impossible to be a living cartoon character without one.

I can hear Miss Margot’s stertorous breathing. I cleaned her eye gunk this morning and she accepted it with good grace (filled 10 saline soaked qtips with her eye gunk).  The second I tried to clean out her ears, World War Kitty was declared and I beat a hasty, but integumentarily intact retreat.

Anyway I have an appt. with Mr. Methocarbamol followed by a long sleep on the complaisant Millie the Mattress.  Tomorrow morning I’m going to fire up the computer, get the order of service done, and pray to the shade of Ada Babbage that the server reboot contemplated yesterday at work will make a proper workday possible.  Also, I have a one on one with my boss (who is really, really awesome, and I’d say that anyway, thanks) tomorrow.  I haven’t exactly told him anything, but I will, tactfully.  Hopefully before the half dozen or so coworkers who read my blog rat me out.  And no, ratting me out is neither polite nor accurate; I’m just shouldering my responsibilities again, and grace and temperance are threatening to bitch slap me if I don’t stand up straight under the load.

The Church of Filk

If we want a better Unitarian church, we should look into the future and see filk for what it is. 

If we want a church that is friendly to the chemically sensitive (please no stinky cologne or perfume on Sunday!) and allergy prone, we should look to filk.

If we want a church that openly welcomes transpeople and polypeople and disabled folks and people who aren’t neurotypical and gay people and people who shred the gender binary with incy mincy knives, we should look to filk.

If we want a church that invites the wee-est in the room to help in worship, we should look to filk.

If we want a church that gets that sometimes people just need to go eat, or lie down, or look after their animal bodies, so that rationality can return to the discussion, we should look to filk.

If we want a church that is radically egalitarian and is always looking to dissolve barriers under a barrage of good planning and lots of hugs, we should look to filk.

If we want a church where music is, first last and always, the vine that holds it all together, and where learning and love and respect are what the vine is growing in, we should look to filk.

Whadda weekend

Saturday was running around and working on music and then at four pm Paul and I went off to join Tom and Peggy and Cindy at the housefilk at the home of Michael and Susan, who PUT ON A FEAST OF HOBBIT PROPORTIONS and hospitality likewise, and greeted our every song with warm demonstrations of happiness that we would come into their (unbelievable, amazing, fabulous) home and play LIVE MUSIC with a BASS and MANDOLIN and duelling 12 strings.  Like that.  We sang and played for six hours and then talked politics and honestly, if I didn’t have to make soup the next day for church (which didn’t work, but fortunately the loaves and the fishes did their things) I wouldn’t have wanted to leave.  SO many beautiful books on the walls, books to the ceiling, books up the stairs. Ah, me.  Felt like home, anyway.

Then Sunday where we went to Kobatfalva in our minds, which is our partner church in Romania.  They are amused to know that we are rich and have no church, and they are poor (I mean subsistence farmer poor) and have a bell tower on THEIR church (which we helped pay for, mind you).  Then a 3 hour congregational meeting which I won’t talk about because I’m still processing. I also made biscotti and brought half to church and half to work.  Ministry, folks, it’s all about ministry, and ministry without food is no ministry at all.  Primates is primates.

Figured out how I’m going to frame the 13th February homily.  Bwa ha ha is all I will say.   

Then I cleaned up the kitchen so Jeff won’t go BLEAUGH when he gets home from Victoria today, and went to work.  Not a restful weekend, but a good one, and my back is KILLING me with those stupid chairs at church.  Grr.

Funny pic

Lovely caption…

Katie slept over at Dax’s last night.  They are looking for an apartment together. These next two sentences deleted on the insistence of counsel, who is currently shaking her perkily coiffed head and pointing to a sign indicating how long things you don’t want to be reminded of last on the internet.  Yeah, darlin’, I see it.  Oh well.  Katie can’t live here forever, and much though the prospect fails to entrance me, it’s her life, not mine.

Yesterday was not a complete writeoff; I got a couple of things I needed to do done, I went to church (how early do I have to get there to precede Dave T?  The man’s driving 15 times the distance I do and he still beats me!), did set up, watched everybody take my set up apart and make it better (weird and uncomfortable and full of fail on my part, but in my defense my instructions were unclear), took it all down except the basement, ’cause Sue did it for me so I could drive Carol home, (and may I just interject that when you’re asked to do a service on less than 12 hours’ notice – Rev Katie was ill – and you do it that well, you can expect me to be impressed, thank you Sue and an early happy birthday because I will likely forget) – next two sentences deleted involving pee and ice cream; I burned up a piece of paper with all the things I want to get rid of out of my life on it (personal failings) for the Fire Communion, realized that as much as I love the lyrics of Tennyson’s Ring Out Wild Bells, the choon as limned in the hymnal blows a dozer, and you know what? I ain’t writing a new one. We have the best of accompanists in David, but a song leader would be optimal.  I also cooked curried chicken, got in a walk in the blazing sunshine, and took the banner home to be Amazed. Ralph told me I might like a new book he’d heard about called Godless Religion or maybe it’s called Religion without God.  After all, the experience of awe and wonder belongs to all hoomins.

So, did that sentence about the banner irk you?  Amaze is powdered enzyme tucked in with a lot of surfactants.  I don’t actually know the ingredients but that’s my guess.  The old outdoor church banner (which we just started hanging out front again since we have the perfect railing to tie it to and it magically reappeared from wherever it had been in storage) is covered in an unlovely combination of urban grime, Vancouver exterior mold, & soap scum from the last attempt to clean it; suffice it to say that it’s so filthy that the scuff marks are impossible to tell from the dirt.  I hope to clean the banner today, and I so hope it comes out cleaner, and that I can winkle the dirt out of the creases.

(later…. I’ve been consulting experts, and recommendations have been made, incl. GooGone).

I went to Candace’s and collected my music stuff so I can take it to Conflikt.

Spent some quality time with Katie.

Visited with Keith and Paul for a while.

I am extremely sad and upset about something that I can’t talk about here, but I won’t dodge that I’m upset.  I’m autism spectrum and I don’t actually get a lot of the social BS and I shouldn’t bother teasing people, especially when I already know the person I’m teasing is (this observation deleted) and in chronic physical pain.  I would have preferred an opportunity to fix it, but such is life.  It is a loss.  Another one.  I could write a long self justifying rant, but that is precisely what… oh, never mind.  So many other people have that covered these days….

Today, we sing.  Keith has decided to join me and Paul; we’ll be heading over to Tom and Peggy’s this afternoon.  That’s going to happen, period.  Not enough singing in my life and I have to debut two new songs.  I am so happy Paul’s job dragged him out to Vancouver.  I couldn’t invent Tom and Peggy and they are so spectacularly wonderful, I can’t imagine life without them now.

Since my chances of actually getting it all done are minimal, I propose NOT mentioning my list today.  But there are three items on it…. I will report back success.  If any.  Singing doesn’t count; that’s going to happen today without fail.

Paste that smile on lucky bastard

Maybe I’m the luckiest person on earth, but I don’t feel that way now.

Katie took me to the reptile house at the King Eddy pet store Saturday and I FELL IN LOVE.  I mean head over heels, you are mine forever, with a Senegal chameleon.  One critter made straight for me and attempted to mate through the glass with my big ol’ hat.  The ferrets made me ill though, their scent has always been too much for me.  Mr. Man at the store said that Senegal chameleons are for experienced reptile fanciers; I should stick with a twenty dollar anole for starters.  Four hundred bones will get me into a chameleon; whatever sex it was it was an extremely personable reptile.

Talked to Dowker yesterday; I’d been going crazy (yeah, yeah, I know) trying to figure out what the name of a song on a mix tape he made for me in 1990 was.  After a lot of backing and forthing it was the written as a Joy Division song BUT released as a New Order song called “In a Lonely Place” which has the best opening drum roll OF ALL TIME.  Anyway, now I can listen to it any time I want, and oh oh oh those cymbal crashes.  Also big time heaping good.

Also found Big Hard Sun by Indio and am learning the song.

Watched Meryl Streep in Dark Matter.  Bloody sad movie.

I’m getting a migraine.  I’m fine until I look at a screen, and then half my visual field gets sucked up into a rainbow and static hole.

Church was okay.  Not a big fan of intergenerationals, but I had to do set up and count, so there I was.  No church on Boxing Day so I suppose I could go to the folks that day.  The kids are making noises about going earlier than that.

There’s loads of yummy leftovers in the fridge.

Keith and Paul and I sang and played last night.  Keith is getting quite feisty on the bass.

While I was in Pleasanton….

staying in John Madden’s boutique hotel, the Rose, which is GORGEOUS (and John M was actually there in the lobby bar the night we arrived, oddly enough but of course I had no reason to speak to him or harass him so I just smirked)… I had a dream.

About five in the morning the night before I came home, I dreamed that Katie K was taking me to meet a friend.  We climbed the stairs to say hi and the woman took one look at me and started screaming “What is she doing here?  I don’t want to meet her, get her out of here!”  I obligingly booked it down the stairs and out into the street and across the street to a little park, where I sat down on a bench.  I felt warmth next to me and turned my head.

John was sitting there, dressed in black, and hatless (which would not be normal at this time of year… felt like Vancouver on an overcast day).  His hair had grown out a little and he had a much better pair of glasses, but it was John all right – nobody looks, smells and sounds like him.  He commiserated with me briefly on my contretemps, and then, and a couple of times he laughed, that breathless chuckle, and then with that same brainwoosh that had accompanied the sensation of him joining me on the bench, I realized I was dreaming.  I don’t lucid dream, at all, and it’s actually been many months since I had a memorable dream.  As soon as I realized I was dreaming, I knew John was dead, and I was FINALLY getting my visitation dream, which I have longed for.

“What took you so long?” I asked.

He smiled.  And we all know that shit eating grin.  And just like the Cheshire Cat, he faded, and left the grin hanging in the air for a few seconds, and then I woke up.

I’ve been a little teary for the last few days, because honestly I had given up.  Somehow my brain gave me permission to let him visit, and I am so, so glad.  Cried my eyes out at the Remembrance Day service yesterday at church, because I’d been going to say his name and Tom did it for me.

Bloodwurmz! (Relatives of Tatzelwurm).

Oooogh, quoth she.

In real news for me, which I am confidently aware will be of no conceivable use to even my mother…..

Church meeting kinda interesting.  I talked too much, as per Save Us usual.  Rev Katie gave us YET another book to read.  She must think we’re Unitarians er something.

Yay!  Jeff, beautiful Jeff, was up and willing to watch another episode of The Wire.  Yip, yip, aroo.  Oh, Jimmy, how we love your drunken ways.  One of the best drunks ever; Dominic West’s face becomes so rubbery and simian that you pull your face away from the tv, convinced you’ll be smelling the ferocious eyescalding breath on him if you get any closer.

I love how they don’t translate stuff in other languages.  You can either keep up or not.

I love my car. I love my car.  Ziva is not a vehicle, she is an obsession.  Too soon, by rust and accident and use and expense she will be torn from my bosom…. now wait a second.  That’s too weird an image…. I plant my ass in the middle of her all the time, to refer to her as being torn from my bosom would mean that she would a) have to get a lot smaller b) lose A LOT of mass c) travel through my body, like ew, while in that state and ….. wait a minute.  All I have to do to make that image real is get out of the car, glue (something that won’t damage the finish) my shirt to the car, and have somebody else drive away from me.  Then she’d be torn from my bosom, and that would actually kind of make sense, although for the most striking visualization of this idea a cartoon or comic would probably work best.  And that way I don’t have to damage the car, always a plus.  For the image to work perfectly I’d be left naked with a patch of hair torn off, but a drawing of me, so I can avoid the hassle of you know, like, going through it.   You know, like that Despair chica from the Sandman books.  That’s how terrible I’m going to feel when she goes.  But I can still encompass, with a glowing, merciful joy, what it’s like to sit in her and feel the engine purr into life.  To feel the IMMENSE CASCADES of heat that come out of those vents when it’s cold.  I’m sure I mentioned earlier how much I like my car.

Keith is looking for work.  Katie is working too much.

I blow kisses at Sue Sparlin, Karen Greenland, Carol Becken, and Rev Katie of course.

Parlous times they may be, but I am not alone.  I feel a great connectedness, which is only increased when shared.

quhat a day

Quhat being Scots dialect for What.

The night before I didn’t contact the volunteers.  I was SO anxious and phobic that I literally could not pick up the phone.  (Most of the time I’m not affected by anxiety to that extent but making phone calls is really hard for me, and I’m trying to work out why.)  I realized that I was a wreck and went to bed.  I got up at 4:30 am, picked out and edited the poem I read for the children’s story, printed it, edited the homily a couple of times more for clarity and accuracy and printed it, went through the undifferentiated piles of emails that are the complete mess that is cooperative ministry right now and found to my surprise that I did in fact know who all the volunteers were (amusingly, Paul was supposed to do set up this weekend but he left town… Luc covered him) and they were all sober and reliable people who of course all showed up.  So my list of cooperative ministry (the volunteers who bop about the church and make things happen on Sunday morning, from the extremely amazing Sally (aesthetics) to the extremely amazing Laura (coffee) was actually accurate!

I even put in all the announcements that Rev Katie emailed me, AND put in a different graphic for the front cover AND got the order of service printed all by about 7:30.  Then I packed everything up, had a shower, and realizing I had a WHOLE HOUR before I had to get to church, so I did the sensible thing and made Jeff waffles for brekky.

Saw Margot crawl into the garden plot and flatten herself to the ground to become ‘invisible’ waiting for the juncos to come back through the quinoa.  Sorry kiddo… you ARE NOT invisible.

Went to church under overcast skies – I was the first person there so there’s that great feeling of unlocking all the doors and turning on all the lights

It’s time to play the music

It’s time to light the lights

It’s time to meet the Muppets on the Muppet Show tonight.

That kind of feeling, and then getting out the mats for the kids to sit on and helping set up the table for the altar and hauling out the podium and consulting with various folks, and watching as Sandy hauled out the enormous cart Tom made for the sound system. (Brief aside – we have hard of hearing folks in the congregation so we have a bunch of wireless headsets for amplification and all that stuff is in the cart, along with the board and the cabling etc etc.)  Then the greeter’s table is set up, and then parents come in to set up the kids (the older kids were off at a Catholic mass).  And just greeting people…. and then Tom and Peggy and Marnie show up, and music starts happening (12 string, stand up bass and piano).  Getting asked, once again, why it is I don’t consider ministry…. what am I supposed to say?  God told me not to?  I do not have a vocation, peeps!  When you get the call it’s unmistakable.  The only time I get a call that’s unmistakable it always ends badly, with me yelling “You freaking telemarketers, how did you get this number?!”  I’ll tell you why I’m not a minister…. because I read the behavioural standards that I would be expected to adhere to, like not sleeping with parishioners and ceasing to be nude in public on occasion and being somewhat less vivid and colloquial and vehement in my speech.  And don’t get me started on the drugs and alcohol stuff, it’s just unconscionable.  I’m also, not to put too fine a point on it, making the same amount of money as our current minister, who is 13 years out of school.  Ayuh.

Then it all started and it went very well.  I made the aside about being asked about which version of the Bible I was using for the verse and answering “Sheesh, Mom, what difference does it make to an atheist?” which got a huge laugh.  I have a lot of people to email the homily to.

I remember gazing at the congregation during the meditation and seeing Erin shifting her little one around trying to get her to latch, and passing my eye over all the mothers in the congregation and they (and a few of the men, truth be told) were all grinning.  They knew the feeling… after the service I went up to Erin with a mock look of distaste on my face and said, “Baby did NOT get memo about staying quiet during meditation!!!” and all the women clustered ’round her cracked up and chided me, and that’s when I told Erin how many people were smiling with their eyes closed as they heard the baby – I think she was pleased.

Delivering the homily and feeling comfortable enough to wander around the stage instead of staying glued to the podium like I have always done previously, remembering to look up often enough to connect with folks. It was easily the most attentive group evar….

Having all the handouts disappear. Anne in particular liked Carl Sagan’s baloney detection kit; somebody else, can’t remember who, saying that the little List of Cognitive Biases would make for an amazing conversation starter at Thanksgiving dinner.

Bringing strawberry twizzlers for snacks, and helping myself.

Talking, talking, to lots of people afterwards. Giving Carol a lift home in that magical fall sunshine that feels like summer filtered though dreams.

Blowing through the door like a hurricane and frying up the pork and onions for the stuffing, firing up the oven, stuffing the turkey, draping it with four pieces of thick cut bacon, jamming it in the oven, and ignoring it for about four hours. Katie calling to ask me if I’d forgotten anything and then showing up with cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie and whipped cream.  (She called ahead and offered!  I am not a failure as a parent! subtext).  I then hauled the bird out once and basted it and put it back in while Katie and I made veg.  Falling asleep on the upstairs sofa and awakening to see that Mike and Rozo had arrived, which triggered another round of Holy Crap, Must Feed People.

Final dinner arrangement;

Me Jeff Katie Mike Rozo:

Turkey with pork, onion, apple, brown bread, sage and garlic stuffing; hubbard squash drizzled with maple syrup, black pepper, garlic and allspice, boiled carrots, mashed potatoes, dripping gravy, green salad and dun tot (egg tarts from Anna’s Bakery OMG provided by Mike & Rozo) for dessert.

I came upstairs and both of the cats were on the dining room table.  Margot was inspecting the last of the gravy…. Eddie looked hideously guilty and was licking his chops rather inelegantly (his tongue was out an inch) but Katie couldn’t find anything missing.  Eddie’s expression made me howl with laughter.

I then bopped over to Planet Bachelor with Katie in tow (didn’t feel like going over there by myself) fed Kira who was most happy to see us, and then came back, watched some tube with the folks, and then announced around nine-thirty that I’d had a most excellent but also most lengthy day and I was going to have to say my goodnights.  Katie slept over and now I’m going to get up and make her a breakfast that will be awesome.

And that was my very long, very happy making, most excellently wonderful Turkey Day.

Today I plan to drink beer and wash clothes.  There IS nothing else on my to do list that I will do today.  Well, actually, if I want to keep things copacetic with Jeff I should clean the kitchen and run the dishwasher.  It’s pretty thick in there.

Oh, I lie.  After breakfast I have to run to the bank and get some money.  I think I may be buying a guitar today.

Heron Woman does it again. I do nothing for days and then explode into non stop action.  It is my way.

homily’s done; turkey is acquired, now to call the volunteers for church tomorrow

I am very pleased with the homily.  I read it to mOm and she chided me for not quoting from the King James Version for the text.

I will be SO looking forward to Monday, when I can have a proper collapse and which will probably turn into a The Wire-fest.  Gosh, I do so love that show.  The characters are all so BIG.