it’s apparently the second biggest pumping station in North America
and if it fails
surrounded as it is with 150 volunteers packing sandbags as fast as they can
Sumas Lake will reappear after 97 years
50% of the eggs and dairy for BC will be gone, possibly never to return
and collectively we will have lost one of the most critical pieces of farmland in BC history
you need a million calories a year and 5000 litres of water
anyway the mayor and chief of police in Abby have reported that the pumping station is holding but it was a near thing
Interesting article about a new social idea in China.
on the subject of white guys who don’t know when the fuck to shut up, imagine being Jordan Peterson getting this review for his latest JUST OUTTA REHAB special.
This is from Dr. Ward Q Normal’s account on twitter @WardQNormal
The shit that’s going on in the US now WAS PLANNED and has been so SINCE REAGAN.
LOOK what appeared in american news media on the same day
Let’s just say, you mouldering pile of cloth-hearted lickspittles known as ‘economists’, that a lot more epidemiologists predicted an economy-crashing pandemic than you did. Fuck all y’all.
and from my fave ER nurse, this gem, half of which I don’t even get:
The foregoing image is a bingo card of ER drugs and their uses/personalities.
Andexxa is when you actually need the patient’s blood to clot
TDaP is actually a vaccine – tetanus
Rocuronium is a muscle relaxant of choice for intubation
Acetylcysteine for Acetominophen overdose and also loosens mucous
Succinylcholine Also for intubation
The housing bubble has burst; the Canadian economy was stalled before coronavirus.
Without a rent strike I don’t know what ordinary Canadians are going to do.
I stayed in bed because my emotional self regulation was bad.
Mike called. He had a horrific day. He had to lay people off. He had nine ounces of scotch in him and didn’t even sound drunk. He’s going to bring me potting soil tomorrow.
Where will the economy go? Will we all be slaves, in the future?
Kenny Gu and the housing blues. I knew the Vancouver market was fucked up, but holy shit.
Dinner with Mike last night. It was such a spectacular early fall evening we ate on the patio at the Quay. I had the prawn pad thai and Mike had the glass noodles with chicken from Longtail Kitchen, and the meal was so good my eyes couldn’t focus for a while afterward. I drank a Tiger beer. I should get it for Jeff. It has ABSOLUTELY NO TASTE.
Now I’m hongring for coffee and thinking about Starbucks. I don’t normally want to have anything from Starbucks, but the alt-right wants to boycott them, and I do fancy their chocolate croissants.
Buster brought in 4 RATS yesterday, laying them all out in a row downstairs. He’s killing them all so Jeff doesn’t have to deal with rats which have died in locales where they are like to rot or little bits’o rat everywhere, just secure tail and trash.
THE HEATER IS NOT BROKE. It merely has an absurdly sensitive orientation sensor and Buster probably knocked it off its flatness while jumping down from my desk. Everything a-ok there.
Took a walk down to get cream yesterday morning. It was a crisp crisp morning so I wore the mitts my mOm knitted for Katie that I somehow ended up with and the cute animÃ© hat Keith got me a couple of years back.
Later I went to the interview. It’s always interesting seeing myself and all my imperfections as a potential employee reflected through someone else. The poor little gal who interviewed me. I hope my pity for her didn’t show. She’s probably just barely making a living at what she’s doing, but she was wearing a thousand dollars’ worth of clothing and a freaking expensive watch and had the coldest, limpest handshake I’ve shared in probably years. I thought that when she shook my hand it was probably the first time her hand had felt warm since the last interview. Stupidly big office, in one of the industrial/office complexes on Still Creek. The entire courtyard had so much bird shit in it I felt ill walking through it and you all know me as being somebody who can deal with disgusting with fewer collywobbles than most socialized women. Drove away thinking what an incredible waste of time it was, but I’m still going to send her my references.
Then got beer and various foodicles, why not, it was on my way home.
Then we caught up on the Librarians and Robot Chicken, etc.
I have no idea what will happen to my writing energy if I get a job. We’ll see. I know I can work and write, but it needs a ‘specially calm kind of job to allow me to think about stuff and write.
Jeff is awesome. He has been helping me with technology (backups), when he’s not trying to pull info out of third parties and disposing of rats.
Word count over 7000 as of today.
Tomorrow the bday party for Katie. I already got her her present, and I’m not talking about it in a public forum, but most of my friends already know and so my expression of precarious and secretive amusement is thus explained.
Deleted this craigslist ad to prevent entombment by lawyers
It was an ad for a difficult job paying 12.50 an hour, for a company importing Christmas ornaments from PRC.
Long ago, when I was still equivalent to married and John was living with us, he told a story about a Chinese dissident who after many travails escaped from China and came to live in Golden Mountain (Canada). He went to a dollar store and found the Christmas ornaments he’d been forced to make back in jail in China. Even if your Christmas chachkas are not made by dissident forced labour, there’s still a good chance that somebody not making a lot of money made them. And now, to complete the circle of capitalism, the above noted ad. They want a UNIVERSITY DEGREE, ability to translate back and forth between English and Cantonese/Mandarin, and the ability to work miserable hours for 12.50 of each of those delightful hours. And the hell of it is, this being Vancouver, they will probably get her. And you wonder why I have trouble finding a job.
I’ve had another great week at work; we’re doing a bunch of training for a new computer system and after Epicor’s Avante it’ll seem like roasting marshmallows and drinking beer.
And I got paid.
Gotta like that!
I descuzzed the kitchen surfaces (except the sink, Jeff got to it before I did) and now am contemplating the agony of getting on the floor and cleaning out the fridge, which smells like Something Dead, since bending knees and back does not suit me. I have had to learn how to step down off the bus all over again; if I lead with my right foot I nearly collapse on the ground from the pain, so I have to remember it’s left foot first.
Jeff and I are very much enjoying Downton Abbey and recommend it.
Coming up – last episodes of Warehouse 13, the season ender for Justified, more Archer and hopefully more Rick & Morty. And Game of Thrones starts up again tomorrow night.
I need to transfer some music onto my phone to relieve the tedium of the bus ride, and also maybe some TED talks or books on tape. Apparently the Dunnett novels are all available but of course I haven’t found a free one.
I opened up the novel again and worked away at it for a bit last night. I’ve booked the Easter weekend to do nothing but write, but that’s two weekends away. Maybe I’ll even finish it; there’s a novella length single scene I have to write for close to the beginning of the book, and it’s going to be hopelessly and most soppily romantic, so I’ll have to really be in the mood.
Haven’t heard from Katie lately, but apparently she’s not throwing up constantly any more, so yay. She lost a lot of weight, poor lamb, and that is never good. It’s as well that we’re made of tough stuff.
I answered the door today to a couple of Xtian types wearing my screaming blue “I am on the side of the scientists’ t-shirt, which I acquired from a geekgrrl at Conflikt VI. Happy days! Declined their dead tree, have enough of my own thanks.
It has been more or less unremarked that the first climate change refugees left their Pacific Island this week. Very sad.
The global banana crop is about to fail due to a pathogen which has now been found on every continent. Also, sad.
Oh my screaming g’s the Detroit Philly game. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Six inches of snow on the camera crew and half the football disappears when you put it down. When the player rooted double handsful of snow out of his face mask I howled.
Furnace is broken, internet is spotty. Working right now, but who knows later. It’s been like this for days now.
We’re at the end of Season 4 for Burn Notice and Jeff has declared a short moratorium. That’s okay, because I’m currently thrilling to the amazing dress sense of the lovely Phryne Fisher of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. It’s very much in the Foyle’s War category of murder mysteries, except Australian and Phryne is a SLUTTTT! A cheerful, unapologetic and unambiguous one (but sex scenes are strictly decorous and mostly off screen). She drives a Hispano Suiza! She has a gold plated pistol, which never seems to have any ammo! She is awesome. So until I get Michael Westen back, probably about a week from now, I’ll have to watch Farscape and Miss Fisher instead.
Person to see the shop yesterday didn’t show. Somebody else called, I’m showing it Tuesday.
David Simon (of the Wire) talkin”bout capitalizm.
I am thinking of going to the shooting range the next time Keith and Rob go.
I know I spend a lot of time whining, but I am really happy to be alive, and I’m writing and practicing every day, and there’s food in the fridge, and my friends love me, and my cat is cheerfully indifferent to me unless I’m crinkling packaging.
Eddie is feeling a bit better – his appetite has returned – but he’s now hiding in Jeff’s bathroom cupboard a good chunk of the time.
I have half completed my first of two new homilies (March 9 and May 11, or perhaps the other way around) and intend to have a completed draft of the first by the end of the week. mOm I should have a bit off to you shortly.
The Alberta government has tabled legislation that will prevent public sector union employees from even TALKING about striking. What unutterable bullshit! My prairie populist ancestors are whirling in their graves like a rotisserie set on stun.
Yay, Natalie Reed is blogging again. She is a queer trans blogger living in Vancouver and she can write like a m*****-******* riot.