Category: Food

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.

Sundry and various

I have returned to the land of my furball, who trotted to the door as soon as I came in at 11:15 am yesterday. I did laundry and lazed about.

Paul was providentially making a pork roast for the masses and me, Keith, Kate, Tom, Peggy, Jeff and Paul all sat down at a table yesterday and pigged right out.  It was a succulent roast, and in addition to being highly edible, prevented me from having to actually, you know, like, cook on my first day back, although I did do the meat for tacos tonight.

Prior to inviting us over he said on the phone, “You sound really tired; you should take a nap.”

I was laughing as I hung up the phone.  So I wrote a song.  It’s a vaguely Latin sounding thing which is supposed to have mariachi style brass. (Added later…. it’s E B7 which is according to the magical internet – is a simple latin chord progression. )

There are friends

We run to when

We’re looking for advice

And the quality may vary

But the concern is nice

There are friends who give us

A verbal kiss

Others deliver a slap

But I like my friend Paul’s advice

When he says TAKE A NAP

Take a nap, dear

You know that you will feel much better

Have a glass of water first

Maybe put on your favourite sweater

This go go go

This rush rush rush

It’s a capitalist trap

If you want your life back

Prove it:

Take a nap.

I know you can’t hear it, but the mariachi brass is very nice.

Yes, Catherine’s many forays into Mexican and Central American food during my stay left a big mark on my psyche; I’ll be shopping today for ingredaments for the feast this evening.  I detect a trip to Granville Island Market in my future.  I can hardly wait to try my tortilla press.  And there is nothing in the fridge.  No beer, no milk, little veg, no leftovers; I have my work cut out for me.

I’m trying not to drink alcoholic beverages on Wednedays and Sundays; Dave fed me beer on Wednesday so I skipped last night.

I suppose I should talk a little more about my vacation. More:

Continue reading Sundry and various

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.

Off to London.

Registration for the reunion stops at 7:30 pm, so all I have to do is get to London for 6:30 and I should be fine.  I didn’t get hold of Liz and will therefore be spending the night in a hotel, which, as long as it has wireless internet, is fine by me.  Funny to think of not having crash space after all these years… but I’m not bunking in with my elderly ex-mother-in-law; to invite myself at this point to crash with somebody who likes a little more warning than I had the skill to provide would be rude in the extreme.

It will be a long drive.  I imagine I’ll be doing a lot of singing in the car!

I had a lovely, lovely visit with Deb and Jim.  We ate at Lapointe Fish Restaurant; I had pecan pepper tuna and it was the ne plus ultra of om nom nom.

Comfortably ensconced in Kanata

Damn, I didn’t phone Sandra when I got in to tell her I was safe, what a jackass.  Oh well, she knows how easily entranced/distracted/daydreamy I am.  At some point I will have to thank Clem for the princely gift he made me upon my arrival.  I actually have thank you cards packed away someplace.  Anyways Chipper thanks for the tip about route 8, I’m sure you were right when you said it would shave at least half an hour off the elapsed time.

Jim and Deb made me a very wonderful welcome, and I got to meet Winnie the Wonderdog, who is just as charming and lovable as a pitbull can be (as advertised & she is one of the prettiest dogs ever and very expressive) and also Zoomer, who, at 11, is a sober and friendly individual.  Winnie just had her first birthday.  She got CAKE at the doggie park, the lucky little canine.

Dinner (of COURSE I have to talk about dinner) was yummy pasta shells with home made sauce with sliced chicken draped over it, plus mixed veg, plus PERFECTLY cooked garlic bread and strawberry rhubarb pie a la mode.  Jim presided over the concoction of this savory collation…

Then we sat about and chewed the fat until we realized we were all tuckered out (and Jim had to get up at hours ungodly) so after getting the key to the wireless and extracting a promise from Jim to bang on my door so I can join the folks for bird seed (what we call Red River Cereal) and coffee at six tomorrow morning, I am now doing up my daily report prior to unconsciousness.

Driving through the rolling hills of Eastern Ontario while the sun dances in and out from behind the clouds and the hills sing with colour and then the trees shake golden coins into the air and I chase the shadow along the road while all the trees lose the light and become… something different, less lively somehow… it made me feel very wonderful. I figured out how to use the cruise control, so my back is fine.  I was within five minutes of my predicted arrival time of 5:30 so I am very pleased with myself.

Deb and Jim have a house full of lovely pictures of family and many pictures of Jenn.  She is such a beautiful young women; one can always say that about the children of friends, but there really is something special about her.  There’s a picture of her with her dog Nolan, another pit bull rescue, that makes me smile every time I think of it, Nolan with her immense scary mouth gaping open and Jenn laughing.  I really like the house, the colours and the layout feels so relaxed and comfy… Deb says, “Just don’t look in the basement.”  Which makes me laugh, because that’s how I feel, too, what with all my boxes still strewn about and unpacked.

I thank everyone for their hospitality so far and feel so contented.  When I think how I agonized about getting her and how incredibly anxious I was about the travelling, I am inclined to poke a great deal of fun at myself.  Sooner or later I have to quit worrying about things.  Worrying never helps.  Planning does!

Very cold and windy today… got blown all over the show by great gusts of wind.  The Rent-a-wreck Impala dances around like a Westphalia when it gusts.

Food…. drink…. friends…..colour…..

The colours in Madawaska and environs are so stunning, and so exactly NOT what you get in the fall in Vancouver, that I feel like I’m high just from looking at trees.

After we got going yesterday, Catherine and I went to a very nice El Salvadoran restaurant (ate there last time).  This time I said, “I’ll have what she’s having’ and thus ate my first tamale (om nom nom) and I also had a burrito and pupusa.  It was really really awesome.

Then we walked along Bloor to Long and McQuade, where I acquired two thunder drums, one of which I donated to Sandra upon my arrival.  Then, off to Rentawreck, conveniently at the end of Catherine’s street, and into the car to get to Madawaska.

Today has been a day full of colour, incident, work and fun.  The most wonderful stuff that happened today I can’t talk about because I don’t have the permission of the folks involved, but trust me, YOU would have been laughing your ass off in that “I really shouldn’t be laughing” way.

Last night, however, was given over to food. I purchased chèvre with cinnamon cranberries, Raincoast crisps, 73% cacao chocolate, chocolate covered marzipan, Rooibos chai shortbread cookies, and about a pound of almonds, which, along with some very nice potato vodka and the final beer in the fridge, made for a lovely, chatty evening. Sandra introduced me to pickled hot peppers (Indian style) which, tossed in generously over the beef and cabbage curry, made for a wonderful and very fashionably late dinner.

Clem was here and we hung out briefly but he had to get back home to get enough sleep to deal with a root canal today.

Today, after planning her day like a military operation, it all got shot to hell and we didn’t actually follow the plan due to those damned extenuating circumstances and we ended up driving to Barry’s Bay and Combermere, the first for beer, wine, banking and comestibles, the second to get used windows and frames transferred from Vivian’s house to Larry’s house. Larry is Sandra’s special friend, and I got to meet him when we picked him up from his workplace for a late lunch at the Ash Grove Inn, which looks out over Kaminiskeg Lake (and the colourful trees scattered thereabouts).  Our companion was another local, a gentleman named Gary who is developmentally delayed.  Larry is (in addition to his other gainful employment) his worker.  Watching Larry deal with Gary was absolutely wonderful, and also very funny.  Gary would rather have fun and socialize with Larry  than stay home and watch tv  so Larry has tremendous leverage with respect to consequences for behaviour.  All I know is I make more noise in restaurants than Gary …. and make more mess eating…. so I am a chastened individual today.

We stopped for a smoke break by the lake after lunch and way off in the distance, I saw a man staggering down the road.  First thing I thought “Drunk off his keister.” Larry informed me that the gent had a progressive neuromuscular disease, which really put my current very small concerns into even more stark perspective, and although he did not try to engage any of us, he hung out with us and smoked a cigarette while we watched the scenery and took pictures, which I hope at some point to be able to share.  I didn’t take my camera, and now I hear it’s going to rain and blow like a bastard tomorrow, so I may lose my chance to take pics of the colour.

Larry is as good looking as a movie star, ps.  He had a full bushy beard and masses of hair until recently, and when he shaved it off Sandra went eep! when she saw him, which must have been amusing.

Anyway, we went to Vivian’s.  Vivian had all these windows left over from a reno, and some were to migrate to Larry’s place (conveniently located next door so we walked those frames over but put the glass in Sandra’s Jeep) and some here to finish up a cabin renovation.

The Lodge has had MUCH work of an improving kind done around here.  The little slough that bred mosquitoes is long gone; the number of campsites has been increased, there are various new buildings for storage and tools and boats, etc., but the heart of the place is still the same, and I am grateful beyond words to be here.

I don’t think I mentioned the breakfast Catherine made me the other day.  Four kinds of fruit, full fat yoghurt and toasted brazil nuts chopped on top.  Best breakfast I have had in many moons….

Tonight prime rib and veg.  O frabjous day! Tomorrow planting trees in the AM unless it’s really bucketing.  Then off to see Deb in Ottawa, woo hoo!

Hangin’ out

Catherine and Colin and I have been having a lovely time, eating, drinking, talking, and pounding on drums.  Catherine has a plethora of percussion, all of which is effective and cool.

Last night was an interesting meal.  We had tortillas with shredded chicken (om nom nom) and barbecued plum pie.  The barbecue part was quite inadvertent, and Colin appeared, eyes stark, just as the fire got put out, but all the potentially affected food cooked up very well and had an interesting and not unpleasant flavour (I had it for brekky this morning, and I repeat, om nom nom).

Now Catherine is having a shower, and I will be having one when she gets out, and then we’re going to a Burmese Thai Guyanese fusion restaurant.  Then I pick up a rental car and start driving; I hope to make Madawaska by this evening.  My back, after new shoes and two nights on an exceptionally comfy futon, is singing hosannas.

Nepalese food, a change in venue, a beautiful sunset

I got off the plane and went straight to Jan and Soon’s.  Jan blinked at me and said, “Weren’t you supposed to phone me?”

uh.

I had forgotten how beautiful the underlit sunsets are in this town.

Anyway, life in her household was sufficient for a cuppa, but not really for crash space, as she had hella work to do (I still hung out and we flapped our ears for a couple of hours and she had lots of news, good bad and odd).

So I called Catherine, and we had a very pleasant evening catching up (oooo, gossip about exes, I loves me some of that!) and eating at the Mt. Everest which has berloody awesome food and I had my first Kingfisher in ages.  Then we came back here and shot some more s*(t and then I crashed.  The wireless here works very nicely.  At some point I’m going to ask Catherine for another drum solo.  She has a really intense Chinese cymbal that sounds like part of the soundtrack for The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires.

While ScaryClown was sending me a link to This I was showing Colin a picture of him stretched out on HP Lovecraft’s cenotaph.

Ain’t the internet grand?

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.

I have world class heartburn

People over 50 who eat hot wings after 8 pm deserve world class heartburn.  I ask for no sympathy and it’s a good thing I expect none.

It is with flaming heart, therefore, that I announce the following horrific news.  I decided to clean off the memo portion of my cell phone as I recollected just now that I had sung a number of tunes into it.  Well, a number turns out to be seven, all but one without lyrics and me with no clue what key they are in or what to call any of them.  Thank you o great muse for your immense bounty, but I JUST SAID on my blog that I had 39 percent of them written down, so I’m down to 36 percent instantaneously.  Now, this is a fine, a stupendous problem to have, and I’d be six kinds of fool to even hint at wishing for a shutoff valve, but I refuse to do anything but acknowledge the fact that I have yet more work, as sleep beckons.

I got to meet Mike’s new inamorata Vilma.  (While Keith played Rock Band non stop).  She can sit on her hair.  I know personal remarks is rude, but her hair is stupendous, and comes entirely unregulated or mishandled by professionals in cascading rippling waves of honey blonde that terminate just above the backs of her knees.  The full effect is enhanced by her petiteness, and of course if she wasn’t a lovely, smart and good-natured woman the personal remarks would be even ruder.  Mike has horseshoes clanking around in his sitz platz.

Oh, and me and Mike and Keith played darts.  Mike won with a dazzling “come through in the choke” maneuvre.

56 out of 144 songs are now written out

That’s 39 percent.  I may actually get this project DONE by the end of my year off!

Of course it would help if I quit writing songs, but not a chance of that.  When I sit down to noodle these days I cut to the chase pretty fast.  Then, boom, another song to write down.  What can I say, it is so much fun to be me these days I can scarcely credit it.

I am going to head off to the Royal City Farmer’s Market this afternoon.  Time I did some bike shopping, and I have a hankering for some organic piggy hacks.

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.

Dancing

Went dancing with Katie K, aka Kopper.  It was mostly an older crowd so it was all classic sixties R&B with occasional pokes into the 90s.  We ate before the dance at Vera’s, there being no room at the inn at the Raincity Grill.  I had a simply lovely time and only drank two beers.  Laughed my ass off, repeatedly, danced ass off, rinse, repeat, drink more water.

Took a cab from Edmonds to Planet Bachelor to feed Kira; both of the denizens are out of town at the moment.  She was powerful glad to see me.  Said cab, driven by an immaculately mannered young man whose immigration to Canada seemed obvious, but whose ethnicity was not, then conveyed me to my domicile, where Miss Margot waited on the back deck.  She scarcely mewed when she saw me; she’d had no difficulty staying out of trouble in the interim.

Now sleepy-byes.  I hope Eddie and Gizmo, both of whom are out catting, have the courtesy to give me at least 4 hours of shuteye before Eddie starts making Doleful Moan on the back deck.

Church tomorrow.

ScaryClown wuz here

Jeff and I introduced him to Harlan Ellison (he had never heard of him before) via the documentary Dreams with Sharp Teeth, and ScaryClown howled with laughter in all the right places, along with saying, repeatedly, “This guy is a f*cking lunatic” which of course is a true statement.

We had pork chomps and one lonely chicken breast, stir fried veg (mushrooms, bean sprouts, onyums, red pepper and carrips), little cookies I picked up from a deli, and a lavish amount of beer.  We had an awesome time, and we didn’t even break out the Star Trek game!

Bareld just phoned to ask me to do the homily (The Meaning of Home) on October 25th.  The morning after the congregational dinner, so I’ll be saggy and baggy in the eye department, but oh well.