- Katie got the job, she starts today at 9:30 am. It is ONE 20 minute bus ride from her house. Unless the traffic is bad, then it’s about half an hour. Commuting in the GVRD is hellish, so Katie well knows what a good deal this is, especially since her last interview was in North Van.
- My emotions as a consequence may be best summarized as vigilate et orate.
- Miss Margot is being very grumpy about having her hair done. I may have to haul her off to the “professial Persian hedge trimmers” and get her done, which I’d prefer not to as winter is coming. I tried trimming her myself but her fur is so very fine that it slides through the guide without ever coming near the shears.
- My attempt at soup making (chicken with rice) had one heart stopping moment during which I accidentally added rather more paprika than I expected. Once tasted, however, the soup declared itself happy, and even Keith had some.
- This house is not a dude ranch for misfits and unemployables. The rest of this paragraph I deleted out of deference to the feelings of him what this is in regard to.
- It has never gotten quite warm or dry enough for me to cut the grass one last time before winter starts in earnest. I will when I can.
- I have done some more unpacking, and found some bedding which I probably can’t use as it looks doublish as opposed to twinnish or queenish.. However, it’s pure cotton, so I’m thinking of giving it to Paul, if he can stand having something in screeching lilac stripes.
- I carved out a pumpkin in the shape of Lafayette’s face. I’m thinking of cutting up a white sheet I found to make wee ghosties.
- Jeff has posted the pinball instructions AND the high scores list. Let the high score smackdowns commence!
- Homicide Season Seven is OUT THERE. But when Munch starts spouting off (again, again) about how the government is storing information on law abiding citizens, he sounds quite prescient. The whole show happened before 9/11.
- There is biscotti dough in the fridge.
- I would like to thank from the bottom of my heart my mother, Unca Barry, Ontie Mary, and the other relatives who assisted with a newly published family project. Barry’s preface in particular choked me up… we can never know what really happened, but we can preserve and think about what we have left, and be grateful that our relatives left us something to go on.
- I am reading through the family letters of, and with respect to, Bootlegging Mary. Long time readers of this blog will hazily recollect that I went to a family reunion and heard about a relative who ran a corner gas station in Saskatchewan (I am at a loss to understand HOW this could be a more Canuckistani reference) and was, possibly, likely, a bootlegger. I wrote a song for her and begged for more detail. The wheels of family genealogy have ground slow and fine, and to my wonderment and edification, the letters have been translated and published. Words cannot express my gratitude. Now I’m reading what it was like between the two World Wars for my Mennonite kin back in olt contry, and I’m amazed and humbled at the crap they lived through – all the while trusting and praising God with an deep and consistent piety. (Even as they got into it hammer and tongs about a disputed legacy… may we all take suitable notice of this falling out, which had tragic consequences for some). In one letter there is a third hand account (as it’s a letter to a relative from another relative about a third relative’s doings). The recently married daughter walked through her mum and dad’s village with her husband, and every last person in the village was gone. They had fled across the frozen river from Siberia to China, with nothing but transportation, food and clothing. She had seen her father the night before, and while he looked downcast he hadn’t breathed a word of the flight to his daughter.
- She is alleged to have said, in describing what she did when she walked through her parents’ deserted house, “I took the cat in my arms and the guitar down from the wall.” I got chills when I read that. She went straight for the two things I would have dealt with first. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…..
Category: Family
Another day without beer
I haven’t had any beer in three days. I think this is the longest I’ve gone without drinking beer for at least three years. Somehow going to Ontario made me less susceptible to its bubbly siren song. I certainly have noticed now that I am drinking coffee as an occasional stimulant and much less beer that my digestion is better than it has been in years.
Last night I cooked roast beef and home made gravy, side of horseradish, potatoes and onions done around the roast, peas and carrots, broccoli and spinach and brussels sprouts, yorkshire pudding (one recipe yields 12 pudding-lets) and others had ice cream for dessert but I skipped that part. I had a wonderful time preparing it and eating it, and watching Paul, Jeff, Katie and Keith demolish it. Frankly I think Katie enjoyed it most. She’s trying to cut sugar out of her diet and her eyes lit up when she saw all the vegetables. As Catherine said, at this time of year the produce in Canada is quite astonishing.
Today I have many ugly tedious chores to perform, a list of which would likely be more detail than any sane reader could bear. I hope to squeeze writing down one song in there… I am also hoping to listen to the two albums Dave gave me all the way through. And more Homicide… we’re close to the end now. The show ran 7 seasons and it’s been my constant companion for months now.
He should be glad he didn’t find it in France.
And now for something completely different.
Ten reasons I love Val Kilmer.
1. He once punched out Tom Cruise. (On the set of Top Gun).
2. Madmartigan in Willow.
3. Jim Morrison in the Doors.
4. Ray Levoi in Thunderheart.
5. Doc Holliday in Tombstone.
6. Heart heart heart Chris Knight in Real Genius.
7. He named his kids something reasonable. Jack and Mercedes are sane names, in my view.
8. He THOUGHT about running for Governor of New Mexico and decided against it.
9. He helps with wildlife rehabilitation.
10. He’s slept with Joanne Whalley, the lucky dog.
It’s alive
So after I left Deb and Jim’s place (such a nice house, but of course like most homeowners they see it as a succession of chores) I drove to London.
It took me from 9 am until 7:15 to drive 506 kilometers. It should have taken six hours, tops. It took from 12:30 to 5:30 to drive from where the 115 meets the 401 to Guelph. Words cannot describe my irritation; the combination of it being the Friday before the long weekend, the weather and the continuous construction along that stretch of road fixed it so that in the words of Dorothy Dunnett, I explored tedium to its petrified core.
I got to Oakridge in time to register, then went to the Greek Canadian Club and arranged to stay at a motel on Fanshawe Park Road called the Lighthouse. At this gathering, there were 400 people… at least … and I didn’t recognize a single soul. Not one. Nobody, uhn-uh, personne. I bought a zipper hoodie with the reunion logo on it for $20, not unreasonable.
But for reconnecting, not so much. Went back to the motel and decided to patronize ‘The Black Pearl’ a watering hole attached thereto, run by a married couple and their hot and hotter daughters. The place is the size of two big living rooms back to back, and the place is closing in two weeks because the owners of the motel did not renew the lease.
It was the last Karaoke Night at the Black Pearl the next night. I filed this away, in case the dinner dance out at the Western Fair building was a write off.
It was. I came, I ate (I’d paid for the fucking meal, after all) I greeted Barb, the one person there I recognized, and my god wasn’t she just the picture of a nicely done up middle aged lady, including having maintained her girlish figure. I drank one disgusting vodka plus sugar water which made me feel like hurling, and immediately drove back to the Black Pearl, where I grabbed a seat at the bar and watched the set up and singing. There was a guy who channeled Frank Sinatra. There was a guy with a voice… well, I told him to his face that if Tom Waits gargled a bucket of gravel before a gig, he’d sound like that. Since he didn’t know who Tom Waits was this meant nothing to him, but the guy standing beside me spit out his drink.
I drank four beers, sang two songs, went to bed. Or tried to. About ten songs have tried to land on me in the last little while (car trips); I wrote out lyrics for one and the rough sketch of the melody for the other, and then worked on the homily a little.
Drove by the old place on Oakridge Drive. The two maple trees are still in the front yard; everything else is different.
Drove by Sue’s old place. It didn’t look any different except the trim is a different colour.
Drove by University Hospital. It has nice new signs that look expensive and are very high off the ground.
Drove by where the Golden Pheasant Motel was, the first place I stayed when my family moved to London. It isn’t there any more. There’s a lot of nice new houses.
Drove down Dundas Street and said hello to ‘the strip’.
Drove past Tak Sun.
Drove past where the Three Little Pigs used to be. It’s still a family restaurant.
Drove past Jeff’s old place on Oxford.
Drove past where I used to live when I was working at the hospital. I moved out of my parents’ place the day of the Jonestown massacre. A fair piece back.
I passed Windermere but I didn’t go up that road. I would have gotten very nostalgic and weepy. I learned to play guitar in the married students quarters when I lived with my parents and they were going to Western.
Had tea and a lovely visit with Phyllis. She is grimly determined to keep as much of her mobility as she can, but it hurts. She is still as keenly intelligent and interested in the world as it goes by as ever she was; nobody just meeting her would give her 85. She looks 20 years younger than that to me. Her cat Smokey is ADORABLE and allowed me to fondle him rather a lot more than most cats will on first acquaintance. I miss MY little furball rather a lot.
Stopped at the Husky on the 401 for steak and eggs and now I’m safely ensconced at Catherine and Colin’s.
My, something sounds like a blowtorch. I must go investigate.
Prime rib = yummy
The meal last night was yummy, and myself and Sandra and one of her guests, a fabulously entertaining individual named Clay, had a pleasant chin wag. I recognized him not by his face, which I hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing previously, but by the bottle of Grand Marnier I had been advised he would be clutching. We made one toast with the orange elixir, and I only had another couple of beers, so it was a much less libatious evening for me than last night especially when I knew I was both driving and working the next day.
Sandra is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Last night she took immense joy in sharing a piece of art with me. There are a couple of reasons this is important.
It’s a great piece of art. Within minutes I could relax because I knew I would be listening to it again.
Sandra had an interpretation of the work of art that not a single other person has been able to distinguish. At least according to the internet… I looked.
Her interpretation was amazing. Accurate. Spooky as all get-out.
The work of art had direct relevance to me and everybody in my family.
More when I’ve processed some more.
It appears that the weather will be perfect for transplanting trees (which Sandra needs to do to help delineate a new campsite) and once breakfast is complete we will go deal with it.
The light right now looks very strange, I’m going to walk around with the camera for a bit.
Sandra has a life size walking doll here, a refugee from her childhood which she found in a box in her mom’s attic. I will have pictures at some point.
Grr
Things keep happening in my personal life that are amusing and appalling and entertaining, and I have to keep my mouth shut. I feel like a kid on the wrong side of a bathroom door, dancing up and down and clutching my cameltoe, but no, no talky about any of those things that are on my mind, whatever the infelt urgency. I think that there aren’t many kinds of human speech; bragging, stroking, complaining, and sharing information. I want to brag 80% and share information 20% and those proportions make for long odds against my hypothetical communiqué being of interest to even my mother, who has had little use for tiresome blowhards as long as I can remember. With this sad and frustrated concession to common sense, good manners and self-interest, all things I show little respect for under most circumstances, I must turn my attention to other things and not splash my business about in an irresponsible or tasteless fashion.
Okay, that’s enough whining, nobody frikkin’ cares. On the plus side, Katie was here and we blasted through a whole bunch of recorded television. Last ep True Blood, season openers for NCIS, House and Castle. Yup, sat through 5 hours of tv today, but at least I got the f=cking DVR on without calling Jeff at work for the nth-t-nth time. Also, got one more song written down, being Cash Flow… a sweet little tune. In the last couple of days I got Calliope and Wish it was Mine done too, or did I report on that already (grumbling fuddy duddy noises.)
The weather has been g for glorious.
Productive day
Jeff and I emptied out the last storage locker (saving $1200 a year) and did a bit of a shop. The Commercial Drive Can Car truck rattled and squeaked like what it is, the highest mileage car in the fleet, and when I got to our place the s.o.b. wouldn’t start again; sounds like the starter motor is going. The third time I fired up I got lucky and while it was running I called the office and gave them my sad tale. Then I scooted back to drop it off and then Jeff got me and we went to Main St, where both of us realized that we’d forgotten John’s Jukes is closed on Mondays so no rubber bumpers for us. As a consolation prize I went to Kam’s and got egg tarts and red bean pastries (best I have ever eaten). Managed to get within eyeshot of Pulp Fiction without buying anything.
So now of course, after finding a home for all our furniture, books, etc we have to squeeze down again. I’m considering buying shelving to put in the guest room, it being the last place I can think of in the house that has anything resembling room.
Keith came over yesterday and we had another Homicide fest. I LOVE that show, there has been one lame episode in five seasons so far and even the lamest episode has something to recommend it. Also, it’s funny seeing Michelle Forbes (who plays the massively loathesome Marianne in True Blood) before she got her teeth redone and playing an intelligent and likeable (albeit buggo) character. She has one of the best voices in TV.
I also worked away on “Wish it was Mine” which is one of my fave songs of mine, just because it’s so passionate about the ways in which men and women are always misunderstanding each other, and yet is so very short. Brevity is one of the things I like best in my own work; even if you hate it, it will be over soon.
Katie is coming over or I’m going down to New West at some point today.
Summer and fall mix it up
The weather has been going back and forth, back and forth between summer and fall. It was pretty hot yesterday. I mowed the lawn. I wish it was the last time for this season, but I imagine I’ll have to do it sometime again in October.
Paul called from Ontario to wish himself a happy birthday (that was pretty funny, actually) and to get the update on Dave. He also mentioned he’d be going to visit Chipper on the way back from his canoe trip with Tish and Terry and Margo (Tish’s cousin). That should be fun for all concerned.
Jeff’s taking the day off. He bet me $20 (and remember, I don’t normally gamble) that he’d a) get Xenon running b) get the Xbox diagnosed (it failed yesterday when Keith fired it up, causing much unhappiness, and it’s an E74 failure mode, whatever that is, which is apparently so common it automatically extends your warranty) and c) get the new media box running the way he wants it to by bedtime tonight (or possibly tomorrow morning). Knowing what I know about the ‘total depravity of inanimate things’ (Katharine Walker) I took that bet. … actually, it turns out that Xenon is being a fussy gussy, so I am not going to collect; I thought it was too much when Jeff suggested his busy day.
Watch and pray
…which is the Wake family motto. Very appropriate now that Unca Dave is so sick. The family visit was by his earnest wish, but he got dehydrated and he’s now in hospital in Castlegar, and hopefully he will be stabilized enough soon to go home with Alyssa and Derek and the girls. I still can’t believe her oldest is 13. I am filled with a heartfelt and humble thankfulness that Alyssa is there for Dave; may we all be present with our loved ones with competence and a loving heart.
I made cookies this morning. The double batch of cookies I made yesterday VANISHED shortly after Keith and Jeff got home, so I made more. Refrigerator cookies are good for that.
It’s Paul’s birthday today. Keith is going to call him and wish him a happy birthday, as well as giving him the news about Dave.
This too shall pass away.
Joke of the day
A mathematician walks into a bar and asks for ten times the number of drinks anyone else normally has.
“Wow!” says the barkeep, “That’s an order of magnitude.” (Stolen from the front page of reddit).
Okay, so yesterday was a little intense. I got up thinking “I am a lazy sea cow,” and immediately went to the computer and, start to finish, got “Brew Your Own” done. Chords, lyrics, da works. Then I went to the kitchen and cleaned it, including the bottom of the stove where gross stuff had leaked out of the last couple of pies, and putting away everything that had gone ahoo, and taking out the recycling, and cleaning the sinks, and the stove top and the counters. Then I shined two pairs of shoes, dusted the treadmill, ran a load of laundry, hung pegs in the hallway, hung my guitar hangers, and then Katie came over and got completely caught up with True Blood and showed me her new tattoo (Katie has ONE SIZE IN TATTOOS. LARGE), so Kiss it and a big pair of lips are now tattooed on her butt. I am very glad Katie is living where she is as she is obviously much mentally healthier than she used to be, but she’s turning into a damned big canvas. Next tat will be a Tenniel illustration, either the caterpillar or the cat, behind her ears. Anyway, while Katie was here I wrote two new songs and wrote down the lyrics… I’ll be practicing the songs enough today to be able to transcribe them into Songwriter. At this rate I’ll never catch up, but I’m smiling this morning… and I got enough sleep, too.
I think I should always be taking vitamin D, the change in my mood since I started taking it has been amazing.
long post
I bagged on the puddle yesterday, but in good news, I have lost ten pounds since I quit working and the trend continues. Who the hell knew that eating less and exercising more would work? I am looking forward to v..e..r..y slowly losing the rest of it. Keith is dragging me out to exercise today. Paul and Keith and Katie went jogging on Saturday, can you credit it? I thought it was happening at one, so I was shopping on Main St. I bought…. a pick guard. Two instrument wall hangers. A gig bag to replace the trashed one which Eddie whizzed on. It was trashed before Eddie whizzed on it; I hated the damned thing and the zippers were junk. I came this close to getting a guitar stand, but no. Margot continues to enjoy her cat toy, to the extent that she came and slept with it while it was charging on my bed last night. Although her appearance in my room was probably triggered by Eddie permacrabbing at her in the hallway last night. Yes, I permanently mounted a power bar a railing on my bunk bed. There are four items plugged into it currently, three of them chargers for various gadgetty things. Nascar yesterday. I am starting to like it, because when I watch it I go into this really creative zone. Whatever works. I solved a story problem while watching the race yesterday and went upstairs to write it down. At one point a car spun out, exploding grass divots into the air at 150 miles an hour, and then ‘wearing’ said grass divots as it went into Pit Road. Keith and I looked at each other, and Keith said, “Camouflage; you’re doing it wrong!” which cracked me up. It even went back onto the track with grass stuck in the bumper, reminding me irresistibly of a muscleman with spinach in his teeth. I can’t leave a message for Katie because Daxus filled her mailbox. Katie just shrugs. Since the phone’s in my name, I’m going to block it his number for her; she’s looking for work right now and it’s essential that she have access to her voicemail. Thursday Brian C. and Chari are coming over for dinner and la musica. Mike will be free that evening and bring that sweet electric twelve string he recently rescued from his parent’s basement. It makes everything sound like a Byrds song. Today…. all the things I haven’t been doing, like getting my taxes mailed off and booking a truck to empty the storage locker, and maybe, just maybe, knocking off another song.
lily from Cousin Gerald
I love it when men send me flowers 😉
I finished Beloved Coworker – I am Very Happy with the way it turned out.
Keith is here and we’re going to go to the puddle later.
Jeff finished my taxes (I only gave him the last of the missing paperwork this past week) and according to the numbers they owe me money. This also means, that Katie can get HER taxes in and thus get about 800 dollars back. w00t, as they say.
Okay, back to the homily. I will kick ass, in a respectful way, if the universe hangs that way.
Cell phone cameras at play
That’s Katie’s torso, and Opal, the ball python she shares a room with.
Stay on good terms with engineers
Or they will f*cking KILL YOU. Or themselves, in this case.
I realized, reviewing my social calendar for the last few weeks, that it’s been pretty heavy on my rellies, and not heavy enough on cool boys who like to talk tech. For this reason I called ScaryClown and invited him over for dinner. Jeff was pleased.
He’ll be here late, as he’s got to go to BCIT first, but that is only one bus ride from here. Now I contemplate what to cook, hoping for inspiration…. nah, I want chicken! That was easy.
Went to Shiloh 6th Avenue Church this morning to look at the space for the satellite service. It’s a rather austere and functional room, but it’s still nicer looking and with a higher ceiling than Place Maillardville. Peggy signed the contract for four months (one Sunday per month) of function space today. Shiloh’s the church Suzanne goes to, so it’s all part of my insanely small world. It was nice biking down there, but I was annoyed to discover that Neil Douglas’ shop doesn’t even open until noon these days. I also checked out the menu at Olé Olé which made me instantly hungry. I was thinking of biking all the way down to the new location of Renaissance Books but decided that was too much hill on the way back. I also thought of going to the Royal City Farmer’s Market. But I won’t – I don’t like leaving the house when the dishwasher and laundry are running.
Margot is still in love with her toy. Anything to get some exercise into that kitty. I was telling Peggy last night that I’m looking forward to her first interaction with snow. I bet she loves it.
Unca Dave’s “I’m not dead yet” partay will be the last weekend in September.
Carrie’s coming through town the third week in September on her way to see kids in Ontario.
Further news as events warrant!
Mike brings dinner and “something for the kids”
Mike brought marinaded chicken, with a side of rice, and I made salad and bought tiramisu cups from Langley Farm Market, and we watched the latest episode of True Blood and T2. (After Keith and Mike had a Star Trek match). My new fave movie scene is Linda Hamilton’s escape from the fool farm.
Mike said, “I brought something for the kids” which proved to be one of those motorized balls that wibbles and wobbles and scoots all over the floor. The boys ignored it. Margot LOVED IT, but doesn’t actually play with it, she just chases it around. Will provide video once it’s available.
Mike recently had the astonishing experience of having an ex a) apologize for any harm caused and b) repay the money owing. The universe did not fall off its axle, but I damn near did when I heard about it. Wonders cannot cease while we live.
Today, return library books, add receipts to our monthly who-owes-what-to-whom reconciliation (grr, I lost my second biggest receipt this month), tweak various recordings for posting and adding to running-total list of songs, clean house from top to bottomus, prep for dinner with Tom and Peggy, try to get hold of Cindy to see if she can come tonight as well, laundry, and mow grass. I will try to squeeze one song in there if I can, next up is “Beloved Coworker (I guess I never felt this way). Which I wrote in Montreal. I wrote “She” and “Evening News” in Montreal; my dwelling there was an interesting failed experiment in many ways, but at least I got some good songs out of it. Living in Montreal and Toronto have definitely brought me to a finer appreciation of Vancouver; with all its flaws it’s a very good place to live.
The weather has been overcast, occasionally rainy, and cool. Feels like fall already, but we had a deliciously hot summer and I had lots of beach days so no whining here.
Off to do the first load of laundry now…. Should think about what to bring up from the freezer while I’m down there. It’s cool enough I could cook indoors, and I’m thinking meatloaf? with spuds and veggies?
Partay
My dinner partay started off, amusingly, with me calling Mike around 5 and reminding him that we were set for dinner tonight.
After a very long pause (during which I began to worry about him), he sheepishly admitted that he was hanging out with his new squeeze. I assured him that it was okay and got off the phone shaking my head and laughing.
Suzanne, Paul, Jeff, Keith and I ate, talked, ate some more, watched Bubba-Hotep (Suzanne hadn’t seen it) and played lots of pinball. Supper consisted of (why, do you ask, do you always put the food in? because my mother eats extremely boring food so this is kinda food schadenfreude) pork chomps and chicken breasts and corn on the barbecue, plus I bought Portuguese buns and made three-cheese buns on the cue. Recipe follows. Suzanne brought puréed squash with cinnamon, squash gems (bacon and squash rolled in corn flakes) AND home made carrot cake with scratch made cream cheese icing. I made a macédoine of vegetables (zucchini, broccoli, lima beans, green beens, carrots and onions, all fresh except the lima beans).
Cheese melts. I took the left over feta, which I had soaked in water rather than brine so it was much less salty, medium cheedar and parmesan, and mixed that all up, then added pepper, basil, parsley and garlic powder, then stuffed the buns, then wrapped each individually and tossed them on the cue. Keith turned up when there were two left and then devoured them with an eagerness that was truly remarkable. I know I made the damned things to be eaten; I wasn’t expecting to watch them disappear like soap bubbles.
Speaking of truly remarkable: KEITH DIDN’T GO HOME. He appeared at my bedroom door, remarked that he had just put down the game controller for Arkham Asylum, and that he’d like breakfast. I told him to help himself to the leftover waffles. (I make waffles pretty much every Saturday morning with the waffle iron Jeff inherited from Granny.) So he didn’t sleep over, but he didn’t go home.
Anyway, Paul brought the corn, which was yummy, and two pies which we didn’t even touch because the carrot cake was SO amazing (superlative, actually, maybe best ever) so I feel like I hardly had to cook at all. We had much enjoyment of each other – everybody very mellow and low key and comfy. Suzanne drinks very sparingly, but I thought I would tempt her by picking up some Baja Rosa yesterday, and she had one small glass on the rocks, on the back deck while perusing Jeff’s copy of the Joy of Cooking for yet more squash recipes (her friends keep giving them to her).
From all this is should be obvious that I had a good time. I think everybody else did too.