Category: Al K. Hall

Is nothing sacred????

Click here for a dreadful, nay, almost sacreligious book cover.

Ha ha, fooled you, it’s just another way for me to sneak a moose into my blog.

Last night Janet, Tammy’s mum, and Janet’s charming spouse Rob who is alas on strike at the moment and gets to picket at City Hall – ick – for $50 a week strike pay – double ick – fed me a beautiful, wholesome dinner. In their perfect back garden. I brought along a bottle of California organic chardonnay.

Yesterday was a day crammed with incident. I could have spent the afternoon with Tammy, but Katie requested assistance with financial stuff. When I got to New West I was less than charmed to find out she’d already locked her payout from the house into a GIC (I bought a GIC too, while I was there), but it turned out she needed to order cheques. So we did that, and then she turned into a wobbly 8 year old girl in front of my eyes, and, practically in tears, asked me if I could walk her over to her old work and help her collect her last cheque. THAT’S how terrified she was of her old boss, that she was almost nineteen and needed a wingman. So OF COURSE I went in with her, but there was no problem; her cheque was ready, she thanked her two former coworkers and her screechy and abusive (like Katie needs more abusive people in her life, deary me) boss wasn’t there, so all her premonitory butterflies were for naught.

Then we went to Lougheed Mall and checked addresses for previous jobs and got her application to Village de Valeur filled out and I went to Tammy’s mum’s place on the transit, and I composed a song, which, when I woke up this morning and lined it out again turns out be somebody else’s song, drat, so I will have to either chuck the whole thing or sit on the lyrics until something else comes to me.

The house is on Manitoba Street, one of the Manitoba Cottages, it has a plaque and everything. To say that it has been lovingly restored would be an understatement = Janet does not do things by halves. Every single detail about the house, now that it’s for sale (Rob and Janet hope to move to Tsawassen for the sun) is so gorgeous and perfect that my little apartment looks like a barren desert occupied by a paper junkie by comparison. Oh, and I met the wife of a local celebrity while I was there (arts and entertainment variety). This completed the “You Don’t Move in These Circles” feeling. Aside to Lexi – this is a feeling I don’t get when I hang around with you, but this might have something to do with your steadfast refusal to take yourself too seriously, except at exam time.

My contribution to the dinner consisted of moving stuff up and downstairs to the garden (Tammy was taking the stairs mighty slow and I wasn’t much faster as the stairs had been polished to the point of hazard) setting the table and peeling peaches (I detests me some peach fuzz) and trying not to throttle Janet when she was teasing Tammy, who needed very desperately NOT to be teased, given that she had an eye infection.  MY mom would be fussing over me in a nice way; Janet’s response to being told that Tammy was setting her alarm for 45 minutes before the departure time (Tammy flew out to Toronto this morning, sigh) was “What on earth do you need all that time for?” and then she launched into how little time it would take HER.  At which point my angel tripped my demon and piped up, “Well I’m not sure that’s a fair comparison, given the jet lag and the eye infection.”  If my demon had spiked my angel I would have  – well, enough about that.  I would have degenerated into name calling pretty fast, and I was a guest.  Tammy is normally more than capable of looking after herself, but I think she was grateful I said something.

To Janet’s credit, she had a blue glass eyecup (an astonishing thing!) which matched all of her decor, but allowed Tammy to use eyebright tea, which I had been bugging her about since I heard about the infection.  Paul – if you’re reading this – ’nuff said!  We picked the eyebright up at Finlandia, which I had been wanting to go to since I moved to town (they have a new store and it’s gorgeous).  It’s the Nordstrom’s of herbal pharmacies, especially if you’re used to the little holes in wall for Chinese herbal medicine stores. The eyebright provided immediate relief and the swelling went down visibly over the course of the evening.

Then Rob gave me a lift to the Main Station, and so home, except I stopped off to buy cut flowers to perk up my lonely bachelorette pad.

Katie K has returned to Vancouver and we had a rather one sided earflapping last night because she really needed to download about her week and a bit of visiting sick and elderly relatives, cleaning out houses of same, having her accommodation arrangements kicked out from under her with virtually no notice, etc. etc.  My week has been a picnic on Wreck Beach by comparison.

One last bit of family gossip – I dunno how long Maggie and daughter Katie were talking last night after Maggie gave her a ride home (she ended up at Paul’s for dinner, thank goodness, so she had a family day) but I told Katie to call me back if it was before midnight and she didn’t, and that was at 10 after 10…. so I suspect that YET another female family member (Tammy being extended family) was giving her an earful / moral support about her current situation.  Man, I’m so glad there’s other people willing to do the heavy lifting!

Off for coffee…

Sweet Bachelor days.

Ah, yesss…

So, last night my boss, may he be praised and venerated, gave me a lift to Scott Road Station, which was the only thing which allowed me to arrive in Victoria at a decent time.  Then I immediately cracked open beer and watched 28 Days. I had heard a great deal about this movie from one of my beloved coworkers, a guy who only gets animated when he’s talking about what happened to him before he turned 18 and movies.  Anyway, I really liked the movie, except the parts where I had to put my head into my own armpit, and Cillian Murphy is one neotenous looking dude.  If you want a scary, unstoppable image stuck into your skullfat… picture him and Bjork having babies.  Zar.

There are so many brilliant moments in 28 Days that it’s hard to line them all out. I know I won’t buy it, but I will definitely watch it again.  Script, cinematography, casting, MUSIC, editing, all great. Plot holes like a screen door in a submarine (just like Patricia told me when it was first released), but o well.  You don’t want zombie movies to be too realistic, that’s part of their charm.  They are fairy tales for adults where, even though things turn out badly, you’re still alive at the end.

And so to bed, where I holed up with Sarah Dunant’s In The Company of the Courtesan that’s bopping around the best-seller lists lately. As a Dunnetteer, I have to read this stuff.  Well, it’s set in Venice in 1527 – 1528, during and after the sack of Rome by the combined German/Spanish forces. 

The Romans, like the feckless duckwits that they were at the time, all riddled with corruption and internal factions and lacking army, intelligent leadership and anything like planning, shot the leader of the incoming army dead in the first moments of the battle. You know how leaderless armies who haven’t been paid in weeks react when they have an undefended, unimaginably wealthy city in prospect, and when half the incoming army is motivated by intense hatred of the tenants’ religion – Papism….  Yeah, it was not pretty, and a lot of folks got put to the sword.  First thing that happens to Our Heroine – an intelligent and energetic young woman – is having her hair cut off with violence by the army’s Calvinist campfollowers.  Way to spend a Sunday.  The story is recounted by her dwarven servant and in the voice of the omniscient author, alternating.  (I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t get to say dwarven servant in public very often).

Woke up and lay in bed and read some more until 9:30ish, when I stirred my stumps and by our unspoken agreement cooked a somewhat low key repast.  The coffee was amazing.  I had three cups.

Then we went through the PILE, and there’s always a bloody pile around here, of Films in Prospect.  I picked Ghost Dog out because it was a Jarmusch film – I find him consistently interesting and watchable – and settled in with the movie from the first frame.  Forest Whitaker was mesmerizing.  Once again, script, music, casting, all uniformly excellent, and I closely followed the excerpts from the Way of the Samurai, which I now wish to read.  This is a buy and hold, in my opinion.

Then to phone my mother and tell her, “I’m having TOO MUCH FUN.  See you whenever.”  You can do this when you are 48.    Then a shower, and a walk perhaps, and then a renewed attack on the dreaded pile of celluloid. 

There are explosions coming from the living room.  What is that man blowing up now?  (later)  No harm done, he’s just flying an ME 2somethingerother in the leaden skies over a European city.  And blowing pixels up.

Weekend continues

Mike appeared looking like he could use a break from plumbing issues.  How many weeks has it been since the drainage went verklemt in the old place?

I need to do laundry, like instantly.  Fortunately Mike, who decided to crash on the sofa last night after slaughtering the last beer, is up so I can start.  He and Paul got on the phone and I must say the part of the phone call I overheard was most entertaining as it had to do with making beer.  Otherwise my conversation with Paul went quite well, and we continue to mosey through the last ten percent of the separation agreement with high levels of communication and trust.  Although not a lot of speed – I’ve been overly engaged in my social life and not sticking to my best interests.

Note to self- make sure people are parked downstairs in the secured lot on weekends.
I sent flowers to Catherine’s mum, who is about five weeks post op, and I send her a special hug.  I will share why this is the case off line with my earflapping posse.  Tact came late to Allegra, but it’s still a welcome thing.  The flower people called me to tell me that the flowers would be not exactly as shown and a day late, but I told them I authorized them to do what was necessary and they are supposed to show up today.
I gotta get daughter Katie’s (and my) passport apps in. And now I gotta run, period, because I’ve got two hours to get some food and get into New West for my haircut….

Hurry weekend

My weekend started with me sitting ON MY BALCONY – literally the first time since I moved in that I sat on the balcony with somebody – and drinking panty remover, which is the nicest thing you can call Mike’s Hard Cranberry lemonade (note to self, bleaaaagh) with a friend.  Fortunately there’s a big jug of fruit juice.  And soon, the salad with hard cooked eggs.
The rest of the weekend hasn’t happened yet.

Katie’s birth certificate FINALLY ARRIVED.  Note how I’ve kept my cakehole shut, because this situation has had me in seizures since the last time I complained of it here.

Other matters remain undecided and likewise sidewise.  I should make phone calls.  Apparently I’m helping with a documentary next week.  More details as they become available.

Also, Sin City.  It’s been an age since I went, and it should be peerlessly entertaining.

Also, I’m thinking of maybe finally buying a television.

I think I’ll finish rewatching Meet the Feebles. I got … uh … distracted, the last time I tried to watch it.

Better….

One of the effects of Pride Day was a kink (very funny…) in my right shoulder from helping carry the banner.  However, Mike has been here and after he doused me in grapeseed oil and worked on me for about half an hour, I felt much better and got up this morning with everything from my foot feeling less numb (unexpected bonus!) to much less pain elsewhere.  He also brought my guitar back from Baumfest, which was almost two weeks ago.

We started the evening at Simba’s on Edmonds because Dosza Hut was closed for kitchen renos…. a drag as both of us had a major dosa jones…. but the meal at Simba’s, including Kenyan Tusker Beer, was a sensory delight in a very peaceful and humane setting…  Best of all was being served by an Asian woman in a dashiki. Welcome to Vancouver, please check your tired old expectations at the door.

Someplace in Chinatown Mike scored a traditional chinese jacket with frog closings and traditional style pants – in fatigued jeans material.  The overall effect is so “Serenity” that it has to be seen to be appreciated.  Especially with that ‘red flag to a bull’ do-rag.  And the long hair. Oh, and he’s clean shaven now, for those who care.  He took a week off his unfulfilling in the extreme McJob and is relaxed.
Now that my resemblance to a human being has been improved so much, I think I’ll go to work and do something remunerative for my efforts.

I bought a camera (and two gigs of SD and other camera accoutrements and a cutting board and a proper paring knife) last night before Mike called.  I had been on the verge of going home, feeling very lonely because the previously made plans to go into New West didn’t fly, and then…. a friend with a convertible shows up.

More on Pride

Met up with Al Sather, the minister’s husband, on Robson, more or less by accident, after Patricia said farewell (she went to the beach to do yoga, healthy chica that she is). We sat in the wrong spot for a while and then joined with the rest of the U*U’s. Peggy and I and some other woman – me and my distinctly dopey inability to get names at appropriate junctures – carried the Beacon banner. Then the Parade was so late getting going that Al had to jam to go pick up Katie Sather from the airport, as she was returning from being with her father at the close of his life. I light a candle for Katie and her family.

There was a large, active and CELEBRATORY bunch of U*U youth there, who kept up the energy level in the mindblowing heat. Fortunately the breeze kept up for most of the parade. Katie K, who went through at float 28 (we were back at 128) was done by one, but I didn’t get to sit down and relieve me feet (among other portions of my anatomy) until 2:52. Continue reading More on Pride

Personal remarks is rude

Okay, yesterday was a day crowded with life and incident.  Woke up around six and reheated naan and chanar bhatur (sp?) for brekky, with mint tea.  Jeff dozed while I went downstairs and did a very scant and not very repetitive 20 minute workout…. okay, of all the movies, in all the world, on all of IMDB, which movie is on TV when I come downstairs?  A Monty Python movie, and I walk in in the last minute of the Parrot Sketch, which segues into the Lumberjack Song.

Good morning, Burnaby!!! 

While I’m in the weight room, this Asian dude in his early twenties, dressed a la Jackie Chan (ie, no shirt) and holding a clear plastic container that you could tote two or three dead babies in (just to give you some idea of the volume) comes in, fires money into the drink machine, removes a soda at speed, and departs like vapour under a door.

At this point, the day signs are all REALLY pointing to a truly spectacular day.  It was not until 24 hours after this moment that I discovered that I had not, indeed, packed underthings.  Time is no more linear than memory is.

Ahem.  Anyway, working backwards from this moment, I watched Coronation Street, drank coffee, took a shower, woke up, dreamed all night about somebody (Patricia knows who, and is laughing at me), crashed at Patricia’s, came back to Patricia’s from Leanne’s place, watched fireworks, ate Greek, shot the breeze, hung out at Lexi’s (and got just enough into a Colette bio to get my mouth all ready for more – who could resist something called Secrets of the Flesh by Judith Thurman).

Prior to that I spent a glorious afternoon with Katie K and got sunburnt.  Prior to that I went to an NDP fundraiser at which Jack Layton spoke.  It was the 12th annual NDP Pride Brunch.

Now, whatever your private opinion of Jack Layton, here is one simple truth that will not go away.  He was one of the first Canadian politicians of any stripe who stood with gay people.  Like, marched in Pride Day, voted in favour of it at City Council meetings in Toronto, took the time as a young politician to hear what it was like to be a gay man in Canada in the sixties and seventies and on hearing the story thought, “This sucks, and I’m going to DO something about it.”  When he gets up and starts reminiscing about ‘my first Pride’ he’s got 25 or so years of Pride to be proud about. 

Moved by the mindless obedience which characterizes so much of my behaviour, I bid on something – a night in a hotel, and won.  Zoing…. Now my brain leaps forward, into the fireworks, which, apart from Michael jeezly Bolton music (Patricia’s disgust was subtle but effective) were truly, deeply wonderful.

To return to something like conventional chronology, after our brief repast and some messing around on the intertnests, Jeff drove me to the hotel where the NDP function was, which, strangely enough, was four blocks from Lexi’s place.  Among other speeches there was a list of four recent queer rights issues raised in countries overseas – Bolivia, Poland, South Africa and India.  I was particularly impressed by the references to trans issues because there are definitely ongoing legal and humanitarian issues about transgender and transsexual rights, globally.

But holy cats, imagine marching in the first Polish Pride Day!  Ten t’ousand marchers and seven bleeding thousand cops, militia and regular army to stop you from getting your faces stomped in!?  I’m marching in Pride this morning and the only gun that will get pulled on me is a super soaker.  One of the organizers of the first Polish Pride will be a grand marshal of this year’s Pride Parade.  I’m sure it will make a nice change from what he went through in Poland.

As you may ascertain from the foregoing, it was a busy day.  I only drank three beers all day, I stayed close to a bathroom, I didn’t lose my blanky, and all was well.

Food & drink

Me, Mike McG and Patricia wandered around the west end, but mostly ate and drank and sat on the beach.  Vancouver, this time of year, by the water… sunset….. it was all very wonderful.  I was much quieter than usual but I’m not thinking this was a bad thing.  I have a lot on my mind.

Sundry and Various

Date from Friday night is not further interested.  Fortunately I am too busy to do more than go, “Hm, damned shame.”

This is a paragraph about how one woman can say to another “Maybe what I need is an 8 inch sub!” and we’re not talking sammitch.

It’s 7:15 and I’ve talked to two gf’s in Ontario already!  Hugs to Tammy, Hugs to Chipper.

Last night Patricia came with me to the Jericho.  She paid her eight dollars to get in but only watched me and two other performers, then went back out on the deck where she found a table with two good looking (merrit of course) middle aged men who didn’t want to finish their beer. Christ, they could have had no conversation at all and I would have liked them under those circumstances.  After we left (and I sang the song I wrote for LTGW at the top of my lungs in Jericho Park) she told me that I was far superior to the other performers and it was worth the 8 bucks to hear me sing Slimfast and Methadone.  OF COURSE this does not need to be true for me to be irrationally pleased. It was a very fun evening and I laughed my ass off.
Keith’s birthday books arrived on Monday and with his permission I devoured them.  It’s good to have maps of the action in the Patrick O’Brian books.
Colin’s visit was a very low key success. He took a lot of self portraits with my laptop, some of which were quite startlingly funny.  I wanted to post one with the title “How I lowered my IQ 45 points without even trying” but I don’t have his permission, and I’d flog somebody that posted a pic of me like that, so discretion prevails.
Mike M called from Wreck Beach yesterday…. if I hadn’t committed to go to Jericho, I would have gone to Wreck in a heartbeat, ’twas a glorious day.

Work bites the parasite riddled butt of a moribund goat and it’s going to stay like this all summer.  Fortunately there is a point at which things will twitch feebly back into their previous configuration or something like it, so I am trying to be philosophical.  In fact that about covers my life right about now “Trying to be philosophical”!

Tim Readman at Jericho Folk

I got to the door too late to get into the open stage (sigh…) but the open stage folk and the headliner were awesome.  Tim closed the show with Blackleg Miner which is an old favourite of Dr. Filk’s.  He also sang his own songs mixed very well and in a very smooth, entertaining fashion, with old favourites, a capella, etc.  He also has that English accent that makes a girl melt.
It was a beautiful evening.  As is my custom when I go to Jericho, I ordered a Raven on tap, thinking about the other times I’ve consumed it, and walked to the edge of the patio and watched the sun go down.  Damn, but this is beautiful country.

Paul has very kindly provided pics of the grad but I’ll be posting them later… stay tuned.

I-I-I-I phone

Godawmighty, the techsphere’s buzzing like a rhythmically whacked wasp’s nest about the Iphone.  Boingboing.net went so gaga they might as well be writing advertising copy for Apple, and someguy over there said ‘THIS IS THE UI WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR’.  They are aware, of course, how breathless and ecstatic they sound so they posted under the title “Jesus is Risen”.  o RLY.  Indeed, as RobofNine would say.
Just so, as mOm would say.

I just found the remote that came with my computer. Who knew, back in 1992, that computers could have remotes?
Saw Keith, read TWO (okay, most of two) Aubrey/Maturin books yesterday AND went to Shrek III.  Yes, Shrek III isn’t ‘as good’ as the first two.  But it’s still way funnier than just about everything else out there.  Would have been nicer if it had taken me less than an hour to get home, but oh well. That’s life with no car.  While he was here I unlimbered my credit card and bought (or so I believe, but I never got a frikking confirmation email) two books about … gee… can you guess???? Aubrey Maturin!!!!  One of them is a book by book atlas and the other is detailed illustrations of all those heaps of frikkin nautical terms.  I’ll probably break into them before I give them to Keith, but he’s jiggy with that.  Anyway, with any luck they’ll get here before his birthday, and if they don’t nae borra.  He’ll be 21.  Can you believe I pushed him out of my body 21 years ago??? it’s bizarre.  He’s so adult and calm and inspiring, and so easily pleased.

Day 1 of no beer.  At Katie’s grad I said I didn’t think I could live a month without beer.  Then I realized that this was the single saddest, and possibly stupidest, thing I had ever heard myself say.  After taking thought, I figured if I can pass most of the month of July without beer, I’ll be in good shape.  Dunno how I’m going to get through Tuesday though – I always drink a beer before I perform (One beer Only), as I find it prevents worry.  More than one beer, though, impedes performance.  Didn’t Shakespeare do a bit on that? It’s also bizarre to think that in my personal take on Ol’ Abe Maslow’s Cone of Consciousness, Beer outranks Sex. What am I, Homer Simpson??? Sad mismanagement in that, dear friends.
Off to the weight room now, I have an appointment with one of the infernal machines.

Hey pOp

I read the first 21 pages of St Eve’s charge to the jury in the Black mail and wire fraud trial. What I read was really interesting, although being bird witted I ran out of steam and decided even if I hadn’t read the whole thing it was worth posting the link.

Scroll down until you hit the “Read the instructions to the jury” link.

Katie’s principal read out loud at the graduation that “Katie hopes that her grandparents are proud of her.” I’d say bursting with pride about covers it. Purpose sure is an amazing school.

I don’t have pics because Katie danced off with her camera and Paul drove her home. It was an exceedingly pleasant and low key event. All the speeches were terse, whether off the cuff or scripted, the mike got handed round the room, and of course, the piece de resistance was the two musical teachers singing a Grad Parody of Man of Constant Sorrow, as sung in O Brother Where Art Thou.

Meshugas after I got home – the front door exit lever was broken. You could open it from the outside with the pass card but not from the inside with the lever. This freaked the hell out of Katie, Paul and Suzanne; Paul’s comment was that it was a fire hazard and needed to be corrected immediately. I had already stuck the after hours emergency number in my cell phone… so I left a message and by the time the folks left the door had been fixed. I may have had nothing to do with it but it certainly argues that the building is being properly maintained.
Oh, also pOp you should be hearing from Katie shortly, something about the Spike Jones and the City Slickers tape being trashed and how much she would really appreciate another one. I found some on the internet and Katie got all gooey eyed about it.

Gosh, you should have seen her, a vision in Gothic Black. Dax looked sharp too. I would have killed to have worn the shoes Suzanne did; extra high topped black and white sneakers with gel insoles. yowza. The venue was STUNNING, the mood electrically happy but mellow, the food rocked and did I mention the speeches were short? All in all a truly successful evening. Then we came back here and some of us drank beer (that would be me and Paul) and some of us drank Baja Rosa (that would be Katie, who was showing signs of snogging the entire thing, and Suzanne and Dax). And we listened to Man of Constant Sorrow from the soundtrack, and Bob Dylan, and Mika, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs ang Peggy Lee and Spike Jones and we watched the Triumph motorcycle ad. I mean, gather round the fire, folks.

Did I mention my bundle buggy spectacularly exploded as I was exiting the 135 bus at Hastings and Willingdon today? I got down on my hands and knees and grabbed all the washers and the spring, which had sproinged, as springs do, and then spent an unhappy five minutes crawling about on the sidewalk jamming it back together and wishing I had some lockwire. (Subsequent analysis by Paul caused him to exclaim that I should have asked for the fat stuff, not the skinny lockwire, and subsequent subsequent analysis caused him to say it really needed a cotter pin anyways.) We only had three feet of the skinny stuff, which isn’t enough for otherwise stabilizing it. I will have to get by without it for a while, I sure don’t want to go through that again although I did keep my head at the time and actually did a quick count on the other side to make sure I had all the washers. Do I sound absurdly proud of myself? Good.
I got a picture of Daxus wearing my fake snake coat. He’s standing under an exit sign. V. cute.

Much alcohol

Poor Burnt and PhD had SOOOO much alcohol left over from their wedding that they threw a party to get rid of it.  I made myself one appletini, but mostly I stuck to the Rum Punch, which was superb.  I stopped drinking early in the evening, but I didn’t leave early enough – I got to Production Way half an hour after the last bus.

I’m thinking, erm, doesn’t look good, but I’ve memorized the Bonny’s Taxi number and honest to Murgatroyd, the taxi came around the corner just as I came up from Lougheed to stand where I could be easily seen. I called for a taxi at 1 on the nose and was in the door at 1:13; I was somewhat perturbed to see that the taxi driver had ditched another call to pick me up.  I suspect my tipping habits have stood me in good stead with the drivers.  I’ve only failed to tip once in ten years, and he deserved a tip alright, the tip of my boot.
Sigh.  Wish I’d taken my makeup off before I crashed; fortunately the massage oil worked great at sluicing it off this morning.  I did wear the flight suit and Scary Clown immediately asked if I was jumping out of an airplane tonight as soon as I showed up.  Wise ass.  All was forgiven later as we (me, one of LTGW’s nephews and Shorn) drifted over to Scary’s apartment to admire his artwork and for him to check if his site was down (I told him it had been earlier, but it wasn’t, it was just really freaking slow).  I was waiting for the reaction shots of the guys who hadn’t been there before and was not disappointed….Shorn looked around and said, “How many computers do you HAVE?” plaintively.

I had one of those party experiences where virtually wherever I was standing or sitting, I was in someone’s way.  Finally I tried to sit as far away from everybody as I could and just kibitzed…  it was fun in a low key way.  Myself and a coworker traded sad stories about having teenagers, and it was all very pleasant.
Today I think I’m finally caught up on laundry, so I’m going to lie back down with Lucky Jack Aubrey, who’s just been sprung from a French pokey by his best friend’s squeeze (also his cousin in law), and take up the 7th book, Ionian Mission.  At least Stephen and Diana are finally married now.  I mean, he’s chased her across the ends of the earth at this point.

Later, off to see my Livejournal pal….It’s bucketing rain, think I’ll break down and take my brolly.

Katie here

Today I have some running around to do.  Keith is joining me and Katie some time this morning and then I’m going to Burnt’s farewell luncheon.  The alcoholic version of said farewell is Saturday, when Burnt and PhD are getting rid of all the alcohol purchased for their nuptials.  Ha!  First time I’ve been invited to a DO NOT BYOB in ages.  Actually since Anna and Paul’s party.

Then other running around.  I’m 48 and have never had a passport, a state of affairs I need to correct soon.  And I should go sign up for the car co-op, as having access to a vehicle would be nice and there’s one parked at the door.  And I need a printer.  It’s only money…..

The inspection on the house was yesterday.  Paul told me that his interaction with the incoming owners (we hope) was ever so civil (he had to beetle over there to provide garage keys so he actually got to speak with them).  We both remain sanguine that the deal will go.

Katie finished another project and called herself pleased about the pamphlet she wrote which I formatted.  Keith is coming over to write up a leaflet about housesitting – he’s wanting another job and is asking the universe if it’s too much to ask to sit down for the next one.