Category: Food

Another glorious day at work

Jarmo’s on my team, Jarmo’s on my team, Jarmo’s on my team!!!!!!

I talked to Mike today, he’s doing better.

LTGW and Francis went swimming at lunch at the aquatic center at the university.  The thought of LTGW in swimming trunks kept a happy smile on my face most of the afternoon.

Robof9 wrote one of the most humane pieces of business communication I have ever seen, not to me, but gosh it was good.   I heart Robof9.

On the basis that I wouldn’t want to hear it read back to me in court – a sore point with me and Patricia these days, although not because we’re having problems with each other – I deleted this first line.  I may say Patricia’s a happy woman these days, and she’s taking her boyfriend (long, long, long, and wonderful and not bloggable story) – to Carmen.

Tanya booked her 3D ultrasound, which of course I didn’t have access to back in the Mesozoic, when I was progenizing.  Gosh, it was a long time ago, and it gets longer ago all the bloody time!  It is good to experience the wonders of birth anew vicariously through Tanya.  PS, her sister in law accused her of STALKING HER.  When Tanya was at home in bed.  Asleep.  This is not good for the baby in waiting, and if the first thing that baby does the first time it’s in the same room as the SIL is vomit and spray feces like Eta Carinae spews light, it’ll be better than the SIL deserves.  Oh, I’m so hoping Tanya’s eating when she reads this and sprays partly chewed Cheerios on her laptop as she’s lying in bed.  Hugs to Battery.

Daxus got the ring Katie got him out of pawn.  Seriously, I’m not crazy about the priorities, but it makes an incredible difference to Katie… huge in fact.  If she’s happy bla bla bla.  Jeff just scowled when I told him; he’s not the only one who feels like that.

We watched a documentary about the Hubble, thus the Eta Carinae reference earlier.

And I’m happy.  I’m really quite unreasonably, and unseasonably, happy.  I don’t understand how I can be so blah one day and so in a happy groove the next.  Earlier this week I felt like scrap, and I feel good now….This despite the fact that my company’s landlord and the university ARE TRYING TO KILL ME EVERY SINGLE MORNING by not putting salt and sand down.  There was a skin of ice on the stairs and the walkway this morning that nearly sent me on my ass and definitely wiped out some others.  What’s with these people?  Don’t they know that people who try to kill me don’t get biscotti?

Was it the ice cream?  Mayan Chocolate ice cream is very good.  That’s enough to keep you happy for a minute.

What a day!

Awake at 5:20 am, poked around the net for a while, then got up and cleaned some pots and next thing I knew I was late for the bus. All quite normal.  Late for work because both the 145 bus and the Skytrain were delayed, who knows why.  At least I didn’t kill myself by falling down that slope – I’ve posted pictures of it, just imagine it covered with a glossy slick of compressed slush.

At 9 the town hall meeting with our new squid overlords.  THEY CAN HAS SWAG!!!  They gave out jackets, and mine is very nice and will probably fit me better in a year.  But I like it. The meeting was full of my coworkers conspicuously signalling to me to get off my ass and ask the new squid overlords some pointy questions like I used to do, but I glued said same ass to my chair.  Besides, I was wearing my “Earth to the Dandy Warhols” t-shirt and I just didn’t look corporate enough.

At work today, Mike McG gamely attempted over three meetings (Patricia was also there) to a) jam Ohm’s law into my tiny pea brain; b) jam info about PV string sizing into my tiny pea brain and c) get my advice/input/loud and unfeigned praise on a totally HAWT Salesforce customization.  This will mean nothing to most of you but when I think of how much time and keystrokes that man plans to save the company I tremble in my granny panties, lemme tell you…

At lunch, Jeff the Queasy (an easily grossed out cowirker) said, “What the hell was with 206, somebody drew Ohm’s law all over the whiteboard?” and Patricia and I are thinking, “Hm, should we tell him?”

Anyway, I didn’t work much because I was in meetings or lunching for like 5 hours.  It was like being an executive, and Tanya took the worst call of the day, honestly, the customer was a jerk to her, and then of course was nice as pie to me.

OH MY STARS.  I have to tell this story, even if it gets me fired.  The marketing department, whom I have been convinced wants to either kill me or slap me into an insane asylum for at least a decade now, put my name on a document….. associated with a phone number which comes to my desk …. and a toll free number that, alas, was one digit out from being correct.  Care to guess what my name was associated with?  A front for a phone sex line. I can die happy now.  All my Dilbert dreams/nightmares have come true.  By all the gods I don’t believe in, this story is absolutely true and I can call witnesses.  And besides, the marketing department has already fixed it.

Our new HR overlord is from Suth Cahlina, and she said You All twice during the town hall.  Not Y’all, that’s trashy, but You All, that’s cute.

Much thanks to Sandy P for the hilarious email about the mighty huntin’ dogs she has, I laughed like a drain.

Then a call from Paul – I’d been expecting to take the bus to his place preparatory for a swim, but he decided to pick me up, and then when I got there it was me, Keith, Kate, Paul and Daxus, and Dan T. dropped by for some soup, and I arranged to spend most of Saturday with Katie, and she plucked my eyebrows (they were raggedy). Katie and Daxus were playing chess when I arrived – Daxus was shellacking Katie. I saw the board and went, Concede, you fool! but they played it out.  After dinner Keith and Paul and I went to the pool and swam and soaked, and then Paul drove me home.  I drove home, but it’s Paul’s car.  You know what I mean.

It was so good to see everybody.  Dan T. said, “I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamed that I ate somebody’s dog, and it tasted like a pear, but I didn’t really like it all that much so I had two bites and threw it away, and then the owners were saying, “Where’s Fluffy?”  I cried laughing, he was so matter-of-fact about it.  I light a candle for his dad, who died recently.  I only met him the once, when I gave a homily at the Comox Valley Fellowship, but I was very impressed with him indeed.  He will be missed.

58 things I learned from being a movie buff

  1. If you call in a robbery in progress, and the robbers have automatic weapons, and you hang around to watch, you will be LUCKY if you only get what’s coming to you. (44 minutes).
  2. If you are cool, your life has a banging soundtrack.  If you are not, the soundtrack of your life is your neighbour’s dog, Viagra come-ons and shills for feminine protection. (all of them)
  3. You can kill a guy with a carrot, more than once, although you’ll need a new carrot. (Shootemup)
  4. You can kill multiple guys while having sex without making the baby cry or breaking your girl’s concentration (Shootemup).
  5. Princesses are grumpy (all of them).  If she’s not grumpy she’s probably not a princess.
  6. People will do really whacked out things to get home (Wizard of Oz, Eric the Viking, ET).
  7. Horses don’t need food, guns reload themselves, nobody needs to take a dump at an awkward time and somebody’s always got a map.  (all of them)
  8. The obesity epidemic isn’t happening. (all of them)
  9. There are no atheists. Everybody’s always thanking god, seeing a priest or minister, or going to weddings, funerals and christenings. (all of them)
  10. I learned to feel sorry for people who aren’t getting money for the product placements in their kitchens. (pretty much all of them),
  11. The walls pull away so you can get a better shot. (all of them)
  12. Natalie Portman, in addition to being able to act, looks fabulous with her clothes off (Darjeeling Limited).
  13. George Lucas should goddamned well retire. (and I need to prove my point because???)
  14. The Wachowskis only had one good movie in them because they STOLE the idea for the first one.
  15. The Wilhelm scream was by Sheb Woolley, and once you know about it, you hear it all the time.
  16. Video games don’t make good movies; they are just an extreme case of product placement.
  17. There are movies that nobody has seen that everybody refers to.
  18. Remakes should all have a generic title “The beancounter, the asswipe screenplay, the washed up actor and the witless director”.
  19. Steadicam oners are da bomb.
  20. Script first, direction second, editing third, lighting fourth, actors fifth, catering sixth.
  21. Whoever’s editing action movies these days needs remedial help. (Notice how bad the fight scene editing was for Dark Knight?  It sucked hair off a mop).
  22. Vancouver City Hall is screwing up the local industry by being chuckleheads.
  23. Not a single movie has been made in the last thirty years that realistically depicted the use of firearms.
  24. Being a science fiction movie fan is a lot like Waiting for Godot.
  25. The ratings system is hopelessly fouled up, and the creeps responsible for it should be bastinadoed with licorice while listening to “It’s a Small World after All”.
  26. It chapped Spike Jones’ ass that the most money he ever made was on Inside Man.  Mind you, it’s the best American caper film in years.
  27. Acting doesn’t run in families.  Doing what your folks did for a living runs in families.
  28. Milton Berle had an enormous penis.  I actually know this because I was working in a hotel he was staying at and he kept answering the room service knock with no trousers on and a big stogie in his face.
  29. Computers are simple to break into and all operating systems are easy-peasy and graphical. (Where do I start?  The Net, the Matrix, Jurassic  Park, Untraceable, and on and bloody on….)
  30. Your phone only rings when that chunk of dialogue is complete. (All police procedurals)
  31. You always have your phone ready to hand.
  32. Bad guys have lousy teeth. (All of them).
  33. There’s a picture of Johnny Depp in an attic somewhere. (It’s not just his bone structure, folks).
  34. Not all actors are gay, but that’s the way to bet. (This is a joke…. based on repeated and increasingly truncated conversations with Jeff).
  35. Set decoration is an art form and I salute its practitioners. (I’m thinking of True Blood).
  36. Heroes drive convertibles (this is actually a family saying, but I thought I’d throw it in.)
  37. If there’s been a movie that realistically depicted aircraft in the last 100 years, I’d sure like to hear about it.
  38. Virtually every actor I admire has a serious, serious work ethic.  Screwoffs burn out or drop dead.
  39. I loathe continuity errors, and I’ve been catching them since I was ten.
  40. It’s just as hard to make a frothy comedy as a serious drama, but you don’t get praised for doing it well.
  41. The risk free life is not worth living.  I would rather have a good bunch of people give me two thirds of a good movie trying to do something unusual than the usual gang of idiots playing it safe.
  42. I wish Charles Laughton had directed more movies. (Night of the Hunter was his only one).
  43. If the people who made SF movies spent more money on the scripts I would be happier.
  44. I really don’t like horror films – even psychological ones like The Haunting – and I only watch zombie movies as a concession to my brother.  I realize my inability to stomach violence is a serious personal flaw, but there ya go.
  45. I am prepared to forgive a movie all kinds of lapses if it’s stylish.
  46. Graphic sex is not nearly as disturbing as graphic violence.
  47. Henry and June was HOT.
  48. Watching people smoke cigarettes is a drag, especially if they don’t smoke and they are faking it (Keira Knightley in Domino, William Petersen in Manhunter).
  49. When I want to watch a movie again, it’s almost always because of the nature and quality of the human relationships in it, not because it was visually stunning or had cool special effects.
  50. I really like long takes.
  51. I really like eating takes.
  52. Most of the time, the critics are wrong.  When they aren’t wrong, they’ve still missed something.
  53. Anybody can walk into your hospital room, get hold of a doctor, get hold of a nurse, and have plenty of room to stand around and chat.
  54. It’s easy to be in the same room as a corpse.
  55. Your closest relatives can die and it doesn’t completely f*ck you up for months afterwards – you just keep on working and doing whatever you were doing.
  56. Work is just an excuse to hang out with your friends (why not, works for me).
  57. Men like to kiss way more than they let on in real life.  Women- at least usually.
  58. Food happens instantly in restaurants.

After the snow the thaw

So around six a.m. I commenced to making waffles, and around seven we moseyed on down to the Stuporstore. Our departure was delayed by an accumulation on the car of glutinous snow.  The snow adhered to a depth of two inches (5 cm) all over the roof surface and covered the bottom half of the front windscreen. Trying to sweep it off was like trying to move concrete. Pounding it with your fist was pointless – this was a job for tools.  I went back into the house and procured one sturdy kitchen spoon and two plastic spatulas to chip the dense and crispy ice off the windscreen.  Bash, Bash.  Very satisfying.  I took some of the rime off with a credit card.  The car had been warming up for a number of minutes while Jeff adjusted the level of the snow so he could actually get out of the parking space.  After enough shoveling for Jeff to have gotten quite warm, we were ready to go.  Jeff rolled down his window about halfway, and about two seconds after he started heaving the car out of that abbreviated snowbank, his side of the car filled with footlong chunks of dense and abrasive snow, which had all merrily slid off the now-warm roof – and then continued to slide in, although not in quite so much quantity. It was like being on a movie set; the sun shone through the ice while it was happening. I began to suspect Jeff of setting it up for my entertainment, but on the other hand I didn’t think it wise to laugh.  After a brief and agonizing pause (all streets are one way now, since they are only one lane, so you’re constantly butting heads with people trying to go the other way, and Jesus God!  Mary, St. Patrick and St. Jude! what IS IT with Vancouver drivers and their signally failing to signal habit?  Must I even call them drivers, before the bones of all the saints?) Jeff had hucked as much of the snow overboard as possible and again we were on our way.

Earlier that day, in a rare show of weakness, I admitted to my brother that I had been running away with his plastic containers and eating them.  He owned that this was indeed a possible explanation for their continuing disappearances.  I, blushing furiously, stated that I thought eating them would somehow be less shameful than losing them, which was, indeed, what I had been doing with them.  He had had his suspicions. The leftovers departed the house, and neither they nor their containers ever returned. The world’s oldest, and saddest, story, don’t you think?

Eddie sleeps on my bed a good portion of every day.

Somewhere in there we watched Keira Knightley in Domino.  It’s an interesting movie that bites off much more than it can chew, but gets by on lightly done comic book charm.  It is a movie, in my opinion, of forgivable faults. When did Christopher Walken get the “I must appear in every Hollywood movie in a substantial bit part?” contract?  Damn!

I know I am a traitor to my kindred, but I prefer Keira Knightley as Lizzie Bennett to any others I have seen. As Domino she’s all haircut and bravado, not her best role.

I have an appointment with some pork chops.  I intend to ingest broccoli, with a smidge of dressing.  I see a salad, embellished with those new grape tomatoes that taste so good.  But all these things will not be unless I arise and make them to happen, and I should chop almonds for biscotti.  That is if anybody wants some.

Dreams & food & rellies

I have a cloth cap to keep the snow offa me
I have a cloth cap to keep the snow offa me

I stopped writing about my dreams in my blog because I read it was one of the worst and most self indulgent things you can write about.  So when I tell you that last night I dreamed that my laptop caught fire, filk went mainstream (songbooks in chain bookstores?) and I met a True Blood cast member getting a humanitarian award for bloodrelated research, be assured it was an amazing experience.

Snow has turned to drizzle.

Biscotti – quite good biscotti – has been made.  Today I’ll make and freeze turkey à la king.

The back deck appears intact.

My distaste for alcohol continues.

The carrot salad Paul sent me home with in the magic bag of leftovers is so good I got up and had it for a midnight snack.  This is while there was Brie in the fridge, mind you, just to give you some basis for comparison.

Speaking of leftovers I think I’ll nuke up the leftover sweet potato with Brie on top.  I’m so suggestible.

Too Long; Didn’t Read

One of the many useful internet acronyms is TL;DR.  That’s when your truncated attention span decides to step out for a soda.

Continue reading Too Long; Didn’t Read

Best …. line …. evar

So.  There is this filksong called The Mad Scientist’s Love Song which is performed by Lady Miss B and Dr. Filk.  In a startling development, they reversed roles and Dr. Filk got to be the charming assistant.

When I commented that I had never actually seen Dr. Filk in a dress before, this was the response from LMB (emphasis added by moi):

Subject: Re: Dr Filk’s ballgown

My favourite part was how he accessorized with big chunky biker boots.

Okay, no, my favourite part was him saying “Why, what would a day be like
 without a little public humiliation? I’ll probably never find out.”

I AM SO STEALING THAT LINE. 

I’m recovering today from walking all the way from King to Bloor last night.  Met Dave JD at Jump, walked about downtown for a while, ended up at C’est What, and I want to tell you ALL that I will die fulfilled and happy, because I HAVE HAD A BEER FLOAT.  Yes, the C’est What has Hazelnut Chocolate Bitter floats, with whipped cream and ice cream and a maraschino cherry.  Each mouthful had at least four flavours; the final top note of the hops in the Bitter danced on my palate for about 15 minutes before I regretfully had to wake up a bit with coffee and water.  PS, the meal at Jump was solid but there’s no ******* way it was worth $100 even with the alcohol.  Then we walked all the way up Yonge, deking into the Eaton Centre so I could see what it looked like tarted up for Xmas (worth seeing), and then coming back out of the PATH to view the ******* mess they made of the intersection of Dundas and Yonge. 

The entire downtown core is a mess of sodium vapour orange, metallic blue and piercing white LED lights festooned from every lamppost and filling every square; total Xmas yield = + 350 ugly points.  We continued up the street.  The Swiss Chalet I ate at multiple times a week when I was working at the Delta Chelsea is still there.  Many other landmarks are gone but plenty remain.  David’s is still on the corner of Yonge and Bloor with its array of expensive shoes; the Pilot is still there just off Yonge in Yorkville.  As is standard I did most of the talking; sometimes I wonder if Dave ever is thinking “When will she STFU?”  He deked into a CD joint and insisted on picking up a couple of Weakerthans CD’s so you may all be assured that Dave’s role in my life as somebody who forces me to refine my taste while I broaden my horizons continues.

We ended up at Flow for the last drink of the evening and after another fifteen minutes of aimlessly wandering around Yorkville while I critiqued the dresses in the window (Jesus, if I was a man I wouldn’t go near a woman dressed like that, I’d be afraid of getting caught on something, etc.) we decided that fun as it had been Dave had to go to work in the morning, so about 10:15 we packed it in; I came home by cab.

Vancouverites, listen up!  The cab driver ASKED ME IF HE COULD TAKE THE CALL when his cell phone rang.  I don’t know how often you take cabs (I gotsk no car, so I do a lot) but I nearly choked on my tongue when he said that.  I thanked him profusely and tipped him according to his deserts.  Speaking of which, prob’ly the funniest part of the evening was how animated Dave got when lecturing me (humourously, not pompously) about the importance of tipping.  The how, the why, the way it’s an inexpensive and effective way of spreading joy, the importance of not looking like a cheap bastard (I paraphrase).

I think I’m coming back in February.  There’s a play I want to see, and I like going to Toronto for Valentine’s day and hanging with friends – I had an AMAZING time the last time.  It’ll be a little awkward seeing as how I’ll just be back from Belize – current planning – who knows – but frankly now that I’ve figured out that I need to quit travelling on cheap airlines I think I’ll have a lot better time.

PS we leave for France soon.  Happy sigh!

At Tammy’s

Working backwards, I am ‘staying above the fray’ as Tammy and the exterminator battle with termites (this part of Toronto has them, and what can you do, eh?), I ate her goat cheese and garden picked oregano omelette (and it was nommy) with fruit and nut bread; I slept great, and in fact about two hours longer than I normally do; we had a very pleasant evening (she bought me Tuborg, the saintly creature, as she never has beer in the house); we figured out where I’ll be spending at least part of my restaurant money in Paris; I arranged to see Dave JD at Jump today around supper time (but nobody else in Toronto, I’ll make a special trip back for that) while Tammy’s at choir practice; I had a pleasant trip by transit from the airport (this being possible because I got to sit the whole way even though it was rush hour when I arrived) and then Tammy picked me up at Pape Station; I had a very pleasant flight because at the last minute I changed my seat selection from 34 row to 44 row (767-200, but Paul probably already knew that) so I had nobody sitting next to me fore. aft, port and starboard and I was close to an aisle and washroom AND I’d never been on an aircraft with functioning video-on-demand in the cheap seats, so I was actually SURPRISED when they called ‘we are starting our descent’; I got my money back from the WORST breakfast sandwich evar and by way of apology the server brought me a free bottle of water; Jeff very kindly dropped me off at the airport; I got a reasonable night’s sleep the night before.

Anyway, I’ll only be going near a computer or screen in the most minimal way for this time off, as it’s obvious my internet addiction is hijacking what’s left of my life, so if you don’t mind I’m off to abuse Pentium and George, two of the nicest and most sucky middle aged cats I’ve ever met, both of whom think I’m kinda keen.  George slept on my feet last night and emitted never a peep.  Happy sigh!  Also, and this if for Keith, Tammy of Surpassing Excellence has Alan Moore’s Lost Girls in hardcover… can such things be?  Who needs the internet?  PS it’s snowing…. that desultory November snow….

David Byrne and Brian Eno

Ha ha, hipsters!  Die of the jellusy!  On the 20th of February Jeff and I are going to take in the above noted at the QE Theatre!  I mean, if the world doesn’t end first.

Hm, must book tix for B-52s now, before civilization collapses any further and you can’t buy tickets for 80’s bands any more.  At any rate that should be a great show.

Keith was supposed to show up last night and he didn’t show and he didn’t phone.  I have a really solid notion that he went to the Purpose High School Reunion, possibly even with his sister (can such things BE?) in which case he might have been, like, socializing with classmates.  He’s been pushing himself hard on that front lately, to my joy and astonishment.  So, one hopes for a full report but one does not hope too hard.

Coffee…. I love coffee.  I’m having some organic fair trade medium blend right now and thinking about how coffee will shift in our culture yet again.  It being so addictive I don’t imagine it will go away.

I got home around 6:30 last night after sweet talking LTGW into giving me a ride (I had glass dishes from the departmental potluck (spaghetti and sauce) and did not want to lug them home on the bus, and it was POURING rain).  We stopped off for tea and coffee at the Starbucks at Hastings and Kensington and discussed a bewildering variety of things with many violent changes of subject, which anybody who knows me will consider quite standard….  Any conversation that has somebody envying my corpus callosum can’t be all bad.

Master Jeff is in da house

Eddie and Gizmo celebrated his return by running up and down the hallway in an attempt to mimic the percussive qualities of army boots on wooden floors.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop with the ghetto slang.  I know there are many things that are seriously wrong with me…that seems to be pretty minor, all things considered.

That goshdarned full moon, which was fan-dancing with the clouds when I was standing on the ‘train platform last night!  I went to Brentwood Mall under its malign influence and bought matching earrings, bag, shoes and hairband (?!) and then bought, yeesh, makeup and got taught, in a very luxurious and unhurried way, how to apply it.  I’d say something about lipstick on a pig at this point, but I suspect nautilus3 is rather sensitive on that subject, for two reasons; one, the pig is her totem animal and she’s not one for mocking them, and two, when she was a high powered executive with 600 full time equivalents reporting to her (didn’t know that, eh, thought she was just a nice old lady, did ya?) lipstick was the only makeup she wore.  I wish I’d stayed and gotten my toes done but I’ll see if I can do that tonight.

mOm and pOp told OnSpec to send me a free copy of the their mag, and for bedtime reading (I hardly ever read a book these days, such is the pull of one phosphor dot screen or another) I read halfway through it.  Apart from thinking that the writing style of all the contributors remarkably similar, I really enjoyed it, and I think I will subscribe.  When you pick up a mag and DON’T think at any point, why’n’earth did they publish this, that’s a good sign.  I even liked the poetry, which is either a sign of necrosis of the brain or quality, you pick.

Off to a party tonight (thus the matching shoes, bag, earrings, hairband), and I will look fabulous in my outfit.  I even depilated, which is either a sign of the apocalypse or that I’ll be exposing more of my surface area than is normally the case, you pick.  Daughter Katie’s supposed to turn up and fix my hair, but after a lot of fussing around last night (Jeff would have been harrumphing had he been here, I was in the facility so long) I think I can do it myself if she bails. At least she’s okay.  I grouse, but I worry ’bout that kid. She’s moving back in with her pop and Keith and I for one am thrilled.

Tomorrow, I go shopping at Famous Foods in the AM and then ScaryClown comes over in the PM and we’ll have a documentary fest and I think I’ll cook up some yummy food.  He has to leave early (after supper) because he’s due to get up at hours ungodly on Sunday to get to the airport to fly to Providence, where he intends at some point to climb in a taxi or round up a sympathetic coworker (it’s a biz trip) and get driven out to HP Lovecraft’s grave.

This, like everything else in my mind, dovetails neatly with other family news; the parental units have commissioned a metal sculpture of one of the Old Ones.  It is disguised as a cephalopod, but those in the know will be aware that it is actually (dah dah duhhn!) something otherworldly.

I am planning on taking ScaryClown to Gadget House at some point and asking my parents to adopt him as a grandson, or possibly a nephew.  The idea of going on a road trip with ScaryClown alternately makes me blanch, giggle and furrow my brow.

Then, Sunday, my 50th birthday. It simply wouldn’t BE my birthday if I wasn’t importing guests, so Dr Filk has, with my warm thanks, agreed to come across the pond – Lady Miss Banjola, who will likely also attend, is requiring his presence for further practice, rehearsal, and scoffing, teasing and saying, You’re Fired repeatedly. All perfectly standard.  It should be a small and convivial crewe.  (Also with any luck Darwin the Alert and Lexi the Not-So-Alert-as-Darwin will attend.)  I’m gonna have an acoustic bass in my living room.  Let joy be unrefined!  Oh, yes, there will be filk.

I just opened a card from my folks, which reads “Thank you for the special gift of being our daughter.  Happy half century!”  Gosh, (scuffs toes) couldn’t have done it without yuz. PS thanks for the terabyte drive pOp.  Jeff and I are considering what uses to put it to…..

Biscotti has occurred

I don’t think I have quite enough data points to do a video yet, but I have a script and some of the pictures necessary to made a how to make biscotti video.  This is a hard bloody kitchen to film in.  Maybe I should be making biscotti someplace else, and evil thoughts come to the surface. I’m sure there are LOTS of people who would just HATE IT if I came to their house and made biscotti and left them there.  Yup; maybe I have a career as a biscotti fairy, setting up in people’s houses as they are expecting the open house to sell it.  I should contact stagers and ask if they have an opening.

The economic news continues to be confusing and dreary.

It was so nice to see Keith yesterday.  We watched Pitter Patter, the fourth episode of the Singing Detective.  I know it’s a really hard series to watch, and that the incessant racism and misogyny is a trial, but the stuff Dennis Potter does to narrative is a marvel for a writer to watch.  Anyway, Keith left to go see Katie, who for reasons of her own decided to go see her dad rather than me.  I ‘spect that has something to do with me asking her to, like, sort through her stuff while she’s here.  I’ll give her until mid-December and then I will simply haul all of her crap out of here and take it to the storage locker.  In the meantime I’m going to bag it all; her clothes smell like smoke even when they are clean and she hasn’t been living here in ages.

It’s very nice to have yummy food in the fridge to take to work for lunch (orangey coconut brown rice with mushrooms and bacon, leftover roast beef and chicken and bok choy stir fry).

Less than two weeks before I go to France.  Kinda puts the next little while in perspective.  I have a list…..

Doug and Elly

Yesterday was quite the day for meals (which I did not have to cook). For Brunch, Jeff and ScaryClown and I sucked back an Islands inflected breakfast at the Reef on Main street and then took a tour of the shops; for dinner Doug cooked a magnificent roast lamb with greek salad, greek style potatoes (oh…my… god they were good) and hummus, pita and tzatziki.  I even drank red wine and didn’t get a migraine.  Keith and Jeff accompanied me on that trek to the golden kitchen of Doug.  As always, the soundtrack at their place is amazing.  I never go over there but that I think I want to live there!

When asked, why return to Toronto, Elly had a few comments.  It is home.  Her mother’s dying of emphysema (not that Elly means to get close to her or effect a reconciliation after all the crap…).  It’s closer to grandchildren; it’s closer to children; it’s closer to New York, where she is establishing a new chapter in her mental health career (her show went over really well).  Vancouver and her time in BC got her healthy, healthy enough that she tossed her journals.  (Why do I need them?  It’s just endless boohooing.  There’s no value in it.  Gave me a twinge about the blog, believe you me.) Doug’s career is portable, as is hers. And the maraschino on top is getting out before the Olympics.  Grr.

Doug showed off his new insulin monitoring device; he says if he can reduce the number of injections from four to five a day to one every three days he’ll gladly participate in the research.

When Jeff and I moved in here I whined about how I didn’t have any cast iron frying pans.  Well, I do now; Doug and Elly are dejunking and I acquired two.  Shout out for Jeff who enquired if they were dejunking.  Keith may get the computer desk but he has to run it by Paul first.

I don’t have a picture of Doug’s new beard styling, but it rocks.  I do have pics of his pumpkin, and will post later …