Category: Food

no foolin’

It’s April Fools Day.  I am so tempted to go to work in my superhero cape, but that’s not gonna happen.

Church meeting last night; Rev Katie brought warm hot cross buns.  Like, she had just taken them from the oven at home. All this – and she cooks too.  Good meeting.  Margot came in at one point and played with Rev Katie’s shoelaces.

I have to say I am looking forward to the weekend.  I will collapse on Friday, go canoeing if the weather cooperates on Saturday, and then church and practicing instruments on Sunday.  And at some point, digging; the garden isn’t dug out yet. Tom says I’ll definitely need a mattock to get the worst of the tree roots out.

PS, one of the reasons I like Henry Rollins.

Miss Crankypants sits in her corner

I have lots and lots to complain about.  Like, lots.  But I’ve decided to save my best and purest bile for real live people instead of the intarboobs, and the saddest and teariest of complaints for other real live people, and the horrid consequences of brutal self-examination strictly to myself. Continue reading Miss Crankypants sits in her corner

Slow and fast, warm and cold

Right now life is a slurry of goodbyes and re-introductions; changes in temperature, ambiance, the furnace breaks, the filk convention looms, the tooth is snaggled, Granny’s dead, I’m finally back on the ERP at work, I am up again and spinning at a great rate of knots.  The distance between life and the blog is bigger than normal, and I have few venues (not none, fortunately) for venting about it.  Some things are burning brightly, some are swallowed by silence and distrust of the future.  The major thing is allowing myself to be happy by how genuinely pleased people are to see me.  I feel like I’m home, and I’m happy.

My back hurts.  Commuting subjects me to lots of interesting loading on my lower back. This is making me crabbier than normal.

One of my coworkers dreamed I was coming back to work.  I don’t know whether to believe it and I’m not really worried about it either way.  I’ve had one precognitive dream that I remembered, so although my sample size is small my willingness to believe is large.

Pocky.  It’s what’s for dinner. I bought Robbie B lunch.

Long hours of sleep, punchuated in the morning with traffic noise. Lest my mother be upset, that typo was deliberate….. now let me wander off my rails again and think about how we can set up an Aspie friendly place for the boys to do their mourning.  Because as sure as Darwin’s winnowing fan claims us all, I can think of four of my blood kin who need to go off and have their own corner to grieve in.  Of such are the ways of the accommodationist, the ever blooming woman of the boundary layer, who would be, of course, me.

Off to work in 45 minutes

And I have to say it’s a really good feeling.

Vilma fed us (me Mike Jeff and Keith) chicken and salad and baked apples and cake with fruit and whipped cream, and it was HER birthday.  This amuses me; anybody who knows me knows I’ve often done the cooking not only for my birthday but for mother’s day, as I don’t really take any of those days seriously anyway, much as I know other people do.

Then we watched a film that was so amazing I am going to have to obtain a copy and watch it repeatedly.  It’s called It Might Get Loud and if you’re a guitarist, or a fan of any of the bands Led Zeppelin, White Stripes or U2, or like slide guitar, it is a must see.  It’s pretty overwhelming, and when they break out ‘the Weight’ by the Band and play a three guitar/two singers version of it it’s like every campfire Mike ever played at got slapped up onto the screen.  Mindblowing.  The best parts are the thirty second bits where all three of them start ramping up on one of their hits (like Ramble On) and all three guitar sounds come crashing together.  Spinechilling.  I was gawking like a complete hick and exclaiming under my breath during the entire movie.

Vilma is 42.  Devoid of makeup and fresh from an encounter with a hot stove, there is no way in hell you could give her a day over 35.  She says she has good genes. Mike, you lucky barstard.

Tonight I will attempt once more to get bandified or at least singing groupified.  We shall see.

Holy ^%$! Batman

Debbie forwards this gem from the nation’s capital.  There’s more than enough **** to go around in this story.  Calling something a blowback makes it sound like a rough breeze, not feces at high pressure.

I had an amazing morning with Katie here, doing tech support and getting out of her way so she could work on her song. The tech support was trying to find cabling and making sure the inputs were set to record properly in Garageband.  Later in the day, my date, alas, was overcome by weariness from his exertions feasting a friend the previous night at a birthday bash, and cried off… this after texting me at 8:10 this morning that he was just going to sleep.   People nowadays have no idea how to pace themselves (this of course will cause Patricia to burst out laughing when she sees it, since she knows what an utter lightweight I am when it comes to weekend excesses.)  I sang “The Weekend’s Over” to myself, which cheered me immensely, and then worked my way through “Freedom”, “Wish it was Mine” (how I love that song, and the mad crush that prompted it), and about half a dozen other songs.  Seeing Katie with my guitar in her hands this morning nearly made me hyperventilate with excitement and glee.   I got her to visit this site for strummable guitar chords (which makes songwriting so much easier)  After she left (her dad walked her home), I sat down with the piles of sound equipment I got out for her this morning (the USB midi input cable for the Casio keyboard, the mucho expensivo mic which Katie found since I had no clue where the damned thing was, the second best set of headphones, the Kaossilator and associated cables, the laptop of course) and made gamenoise1, and that’s only a fraction of the extremely cool music I composed today. Getting more callouses on my fingers, seeing both my kids and writing tunes have put me in a very happy mood… and I didn’t cook dinner, I ordered pizza and then made Jeff pay for it.  Tra la la.  Oh, and I watched the boys kill zombies, because of course, Elferd Ito is in the house.  (L4D2, Left for dead 2, bad pun.)

Mathemagic

For some of my math geek buddies, here are some jokes.

Speaking of math geeks, I had a nice long call from LTGW last night.  He came perilously close to moving to California but decided to stay here and work on a business – a math related business, if you can believe it.  Then he described what he was doing and it sounds exhausting, creative and fun.  Then we traded bragging and complaining about our love lives and that’s probably enough specifics on that subject.

The parmesan herb bread turned out really really yummy, but the top of the loaf still hit the glass peephole at the top of the breadmaker, and I’m wondering just how little sugar I need to put in that recipe before it stops doing that.  It’s very irritating because that model of breadmaker does not have a removable lid, so cleaning it is a righteous pain.

Carrie and Tom are in town… I hope to see them tonight.

I played with Margot for about an hour last night.  That cat makes me laugh.  And she LOVES music.  She was attacking my laptop when I was playing something on it yesterday.

I get to interview one of the elders for church.  We’re having an “I’m not dead yet” program, where we talk to elders about their lives BEFORE they die, so we can appreciate them more fully and with less saying of things like, “Gosh, I wish I’d talked to him when he was still alive.”  I drew Denis, so I am very happy; Denis has one of the most beautiful and original speaking voices ever, and his passionate love affair with life and literature make him a good fit for me and that kind of work.

Jeff is back today.  Haunted House is now closer to being functional at Gadget House.  Yup, that’s Jeff, leaving a trail of order and repair behind him.

Dinner and schlepping

Went into New West for tp and a grooming item, which for reasons unknown was not at the London Thugs where I expected it to be.

I was calling it London Thugs before Mike started working there.  Now when I say it I really mean it.

Deposited the cheque from my grandmother (note on orthography, I have not yet made my mind over whether I am going to drop the que and just call them checks.  The only reason I hesitate is that, while I think the American orthography looks better, I want to maintain my Canadian heritage).  But Jiminy Christmas, don’t you find it odd that I’m getting birthday checks from my Gran when I’m 51 bleeding years old?  I vow to spend it all on beer and chocolate. What a useless, parasitic enemy of the people I am.

I’ve been ruminating over ‘you’re as young as you feel”.  I’m siding with it being true, if you’re just talking about your emotions.  I don’t know; do older people have more subtle emotions because they’ve lived longer and seen more, and understand more of the implications of things?  Or is that utter bs?  I saw too many times, over the course of my life, the youngest child in the room being the wisest, not least because she was so uncannily observant.  She was Katie Sharpeyes until she was 16.  Insert brief grouse.  Sure wish she’d call me back, or at least text me that she’s having far too much fun to call.

Damn, I can’t get that row of tequila shots we did out of my head.  Yes, Jeff sprang for a round of shots last night, and ah, with the festive.  That effin’ princess, Kashka (with what indulgent love I say it) had to have a lemon wedge, as she just can’t tolerate lime.  Katie’s crush observed that when somebody else is paying, as a matter of form you take the shot as is.  Indeed.

Still in New West, but fast forward to this evening.  There is a butcher shop around the corner from Sixth and Sixth.  I bought a really good steak there once, and I dashed in.  I beheld the liver and my whole body shivered with delight.  Yes, that’s just about the most disgusting sentence I could come up with on short notice, hope you liked it, hackneyed internal rhyme and all.

I thank Paul for the transpo into and out of New West… in rush hour, very much appreciated.  I get anxious when I run out of toilet paper. I make jokes about it, but I get anxious too.

I cooked the liver, dredged in flour, salt and pepper, in butter which onions had been frying in for a while.  I just barely cooked it, and it was so good.  Margot got some too, I shouldn’t have, but she was finding my plate more than usually interesting.

Now I feel like sleeping.  Life is so good.

Various kinds of news

Jeff took me out for wiener schnitzel at Balkan House yesterday.  It is a truly superior meal.  For the price you cannot beat it.

I have reduced my beer consumption a great deal… but that will get fixed tonight.  Today Katie is 21 and I’m taking her to Drink in New West with a bunch of her friends.  I don’t think I’ll stay too late, drinking with your children’s friends is like saying you don’t have friends of your own.  At least it’s one bus ride home, for both of us.

My brain turned to mush when This Guy called and said school stuff will prevent him from seeing me this weekend, but then my brain started functioning again as I went into planning mode.  Hopefully I’ll see him some time early next week. Cue the evil grin.

According to twitter world famous Canadian writers message each other all the time about incredibly trivial stuff (for example the slug post from yesterday started as a tweet from Margaret Atwood), Nathan Fillion is having a bromance with Seamus Dever (co-star on Castle), and Dita Von Teese just ordered a “thanksgiving in a box” from the American Store in Paris.  These little peeps into other people’s lives are kinda cool, actually.  It’s interesting to see which celebrities ‘get’ twitter and which don’t.

I follow Stephen Harper; all his tweets ever do is say exactly what he is doing at a certain time.  It’s like a GPS for the PM.  Never any opinions expressed… just where he is.  I know what John would say about that if he was still alive….

A number of celebrities (referred to by Perez Hilton as celebutards) are already in train to be sued by people they have (while high as f*****g kites if the internal textual evidence is to be believed) slandered.  Other celebrities somehow think that misspelling every second word and sounding like an ignorant, lazy, disloyal chenozzle is, too use the parlance of happier times, cool.  As a single example, Courtney Love.

Other celebs, like Weird Al Yankovic, tweet stuff like this, as of twelve minutes ago…


Didn’t see anybody famous sitting in First Class. If this plane crashes, I am TOTALLY getting the headline!

Which you have to admit is kinda hilarious, spelled correctly, and provides insight into how he thinks.

John Cleese’s tweets are alternately content laden “I am here with so and so” and funny.  Bruce Sterling is always going off about exotic locales in Europa – but this morning he linked to a Pop Mechanics article about Robert Heinlein’s house.  William Gibson passes along Amazon reviews from his wife (who must be one of the funniest women who ever lived, if her taste is anything to go by).  So yes, I’m enjoying twitter.

Anyway, I’m off to a church meeting.  Everybody, as you were.

And now the trivia

Yesterday’s birthday feast was amazing and wonderful.  Brian C., Tom U., Mike and V., Jarmo and Susana, and Jeff, all took me out.  I had much beer and several shooters, and so much ‘appetizers’ that when my burger came I ended up staring at it until it was cold.  I love my friends with a happiness that bends time and warps space.

Mike gave me a Ralph Steadman / Gonzo skin for my laptop; Jarmo a home made wooden clock that you have to be a genius to tell time with, and Susana gave me Tove Jansson’s Moominvalley in November; a very Finnish gift.  All in all a satisfactory and entirely unexpected haul.

There was a bunch of other stuff I wanted to talk about but I think my domestic chores are calling.  A dog defecated on the back deck (why?  and why SO MUCH?) and somebody, probably Eddie, barfed up all over the dining room table.  Nothing like pets to keep you in touch with what is real.  And it’s better than brooding.

Oh, and Jeff took me out for breakfast…. and I had a lazy day.  Now, to work.

Singing and playing

Off to Tom and Peggy’s yestreen for Roast Beast and Many, Many Vegetables, and then singing.  We started with the Tapioca Song, and blessedly, got better from there.  We even sang Barrett’s Privateers, also Frobisher Bay, Columbus Stockade Blues, I sang “Junk Drawer” a capella, and of course I’ll Fly Away.  Peggy has TWO standup basses right now while Patrick is in Europe touring. Don’t you find that a beautiful kind of excess?

Bjork and Moomins.  Great combo; crazy spooky wildly creative elf-inflected northerners.

I’m 51 today.  Mike and a bunch of the gang from the old Statpower days are taking me out for drinkypoos at the Mountain Shadow.  I am so looking forward to seeing the folks.  Jeff greeted me on my 16th birthday by playing 16 Candles from the American Graffitti soundtrack first thing in the morning…. I have a distinct recollection of being blasted out of bed by it, but then again my distinct recollections turn to sand the second I try to build something on them.  I also recollected it was snowing that morning.

Unbelievable wind and rain right now.  It’s November in Vancouver, all right.

I really wish I’d started taking Vitamin D earlier.  It’s virtually impossible for me to feel depressed or anxious when I’m taking it on a regular basis.

Chipper, your gift of that stripey orange shirt is being appreciated by new people every week.

Tammy is in Venice and elsewhere in Europa.  She sounds like she’s having a wonderful time.

Busy day

Today I am going to go and see a music teacher who lives close by to see if I can take lessons; then I’m going up to my old workplace for lunch; then I’m going to Surrey for a while, and then I should be home for supper.  This is the most I’ve been on transit since the fireworks last summer.

Last night Tom and Peggy and Paul and Keith came over for broiled pork chop, cauliflower and home made cheese sauce, salad, cole slaw, corn and garlic bread.  Dessert was fresh fruit and pecan torte. It was all nommers.  Then we sang and played for a while.

I light a candle for everybody killed and injured at Fort Hood yesterday.   I am sure there will be an uptick in attacks on furrin brown people as a consequence.  I light a candle for the man who thought he could made a contribution to world peace by slaughtering his fellow soldiers.  It’s just so grisly, and so wrong.