Category: Friends

Visit from Mike

/ the great Guilt Trip. more on that later.

He brought a bag of perfect mandarins and little oranges for new year.

We ordered from Fusioncore Japanese, the three of us, and watched some TV and hung out and talked. After Jeff went to bed Mike asked the my uke that he just restrung with very plangent strings and he played (in rapid succession) about ten tunes that I had no idea he knew on ukulele, all the way from Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out to Who’ll Stop the Rain. I mean, he only just BOUGHT a uke. He’s absolutely loving the instrument.

All in all a good day, even if I left a message for Paul and never followed up so I never got him out of the house. And slept more than I should. And didn’t pick up my inderal.

And after Mike handed the uke back I said, I have something unpleasant to say and I have to get it over with.

“I tried so hard to love the Blue Lava guitar you gave me. I tried playing it, playing with the cool electronics, compose on it. I couldn’t love it. I know usually when I get a new instrument the other instruments are mad and they are left alone while I have New Instrument Energy with My New Fave. But it never happened with this guitar. May I give it back to you?”

And he said thank you for telling me.

I knew where all the bits and bobbles were, and packed it up along with the Instant Pot insert and Bouillon he left her from New Years. I felt so relieved because Mike just didn’t take it the wrong way.

I am so fortunate in my friends.

everyone have a hellafine day. Wordle and Lumosity done, I’m in good shape today.

COVID data resource for Canadians.

14678 words

 

 

is this contentment

Just wanted to state that Jeff is a peerless housemate and my good fortune in this last decade plus of cohabitation CANNOT be overstated. He knows why I’m posting this now, but it need not be the business of the world.

The Echo is in at the krankenhaus, Paul is all wanting to drive again, and I’m going to tell him the same thing I did last time; Don’t. Unless your doctor okays it, no. The CT happened and we’ll know more when the film’s read. Keith picked us up after we dropped the car off. Keith is being such a dear one these days.

Then I got a return call from Tammy and we had a lovely phone call, chugging through the ever changing panoply of tasks and concerns. I am very happy she called.

Suzanne is here and the rugs are in to be washed.

I carried Kevin (the vacuum) downstairs. He is a very substantial minion and awkward. I wanted to be reminded.

I think it is possible that I am gestating a poem. Could be gas. Could be the samosa. Could be that Magpie (twitterfren’) was talking about how a poem ambushed them with a philosophical demand that (as they currently construe themselves) was antithetical to their wellbeing.

This means that my friend has identified something interesting to me, of which I was not previously aware, in my poetry.

If you read David Dowker’s poems, and you should if you enjoy being bewildered in a very high-toned way, only to be poleaxed by a phrase which welds itself to your sensorium, you will not come across a single one that would require the modern day ‘scourge of both literature and the flow of ideas in virtual spaces’ by which I mean (and for the one person reading this who’ll enjoy it) the TRIGGER WARNING.

A content or trigger warning is the signed, finger-signed, audible or readable advisory that potentially painful, objectionable, psychologically harmful due to pre-existing conditions, or just plain offensive to contemporary acceptance of decency wat dat content is imminently inbound.

I think the poet has to consider the audience. If you want your poetry widely accessible, that means actually taking accessibility into consideration. Oh, one possibly probably almost certainly says, such a small part of the market.

fiendish grin

I am not marketable. Oh my offense is rank, it smells to heaven – that I have RSD and CAN’T FUCKING BEAR TO BE EDITED or even gently remonstrated with regarding usage. Of course if it’s dead wrong I don’t have a problem, but anything with wiggle room and a slice of daylight a photon wide and … I be the spiny puffer fish stuck in the throat of my own self-improvement. So I’ll never be a commercial author. I won’t improve as a poet. My best songwriting days are behind me anyway and I’m fine with that. When I have a back catalogue like what I’m sitting on… ?  just staying on top of my own top 40 compositions in terms of performance readiness is all I fucking need to do. Everyone who likes my tunes already has the sheet music or a recording and nobody else matters. When Tom Lehrer, one of the greatest song writers of the 20th C, PUBLICLY POSTED HIS ENTIRE CATALOGUE, I thought I don’t even need to say anything, I’ve been vindicated with the kind of vindication that counts, one artist heart sending up a flare to another while putting the audience first. WHO ELSE could respect his audience that much? Who is unbossed enough to do it? Of course he’s not a perfect human but it’s the single most amazing piece of direct cultural action by a white guy I’ve seen in fucking years, it’s amazing!

I used to think I’d have to die first, to be a successful author, but everything about modern publishing culture is done thanks to climate change; the industry is too busy doing an HR Giger style cannibalizing fetishistic blowjob on itself and offering its youngest workers to Moloch to have it sussed yet. Publishing is yet one more of the many things that won’t survive climate change. Books that haven’t already been digitized will disappear, burned for heat, burned in fascist and religious purges or repurposed as tp or recycled as paper for other purposes. Everything that survives will either be expensive or pirated, sometimes both depending on local bullies’ attitudes toward the arts. So yeah, I’m going to keep my dignity and not wade out into that swamp. Am I making a virtue of necessity? It’s neither virtue nor necessity. I just don’t want to get any on me when it’s a swamp I can’t win.

Having given ‘the market’ all the fcking consideration that it currently deserves, and probably to all of your minds much more than it deserved even before I wilfully dragged it out of its niche in the columbarium of western thought (barf gag), I return to the issue of the consideration of the audience. I will in future be providing content warnings for my poems. On the page, the CW will state “CW is at the bottom of the poem.” People can then choose to skip ahead or read the poem. CW are often for sexual abuse, self-harm, violence, eating disorders but since I hardly ever write poetry about that, it won’t be necessary. But sometimes I mention things like death and going to the hospital, and yes it would be good to either make the title the content warning or give sensitive people a heads up. I wrote a poem about a dying man called Tom in Hospital. So easy to do. I could have called it something else. But anyone walking up to the poem who just had a relative or friend die will know: I rilly don’t need to read this right now. Or I must read this right now. But at least they know!

I identified an artistic problem with the help of a friend. I identified a number of ways to solve it. I will take the rest of my musings on the subject off line, partly because I need to pee but also because I rilly want another samosa and a smoothie to go with.

Never fails

The more useful my blog is to me and my family the less interesting it is to other people… down to five people looking at it per day, including someone I live with. I suppose if Buster could read he’d be in there looking for references to his cattly self too.

Wordle in five this morning. I am endeavouring not to cheat and haven’t for about a month now. Hard to believe I’ve been doing it for more than a year, seems like less time.

Keith is going to his G&G for part of the weekend and I’d go with him if I thought I’d be welcome. We are definitely on the mend relationship wise though so I’m gonna stay out of his show. He’s taking his pOp to an important medical appointment today. Last night I dreamed that Paul completely showed insight into his condition including that his vision isn’t great and when I joyfully said, “So you’re okay with not driving then?” he turned from where he was sitting on the floor at his place watching the same aviation themed movie Jeff and I watched last night (“Devotion” recommended for war movie and civil rights fans, directed by JD Dillard and score by Chanda Dancy (I did like the score)), put on the meanest facial expression possible (literally one I’ve never seen on him before because he is not a mean person) and said, “Of course not, I’ll be driving again soon.”

And then I woke up. Given that it was my own brain that dished out this ghastly bit of me attempting to work through my emotions on this (waves arms helplessly in general direction of undesirable events and outcomes) I guess I’m going to look over to my Ontie Mary and her life experience and pray for guidance. I try to do the right thing but I’m lazy and self-involved. He deserves the very best of care, the world knows he gave it to me many times when I needed it. Keith and I left it that I am ready to take Paul at 10:30 just in case for whatever reason Keith can’t and then we’ll swap out cars and I’ll take Paul. If I don’t hear from him by eleven I can assume I’m excused duty. So I’ll back Keith up but I’m going to operate on the assumption that I don’t have to today.

And I’m sitting here crying like a fool. Must get up and walk around today.

Echo goes to the Krankenhaus Thursday which is great because it’ll be out of the driveway for Suzanne. Suzanne FINALLY HAZ CATT His name is Lucky, he looks like Bounce, and he’s a rescue purr factory.

Jeff and I have both been having insomnia and ‘sleeping at weird times’ issues but they seem to be resolving. We were BOTH up at 1:30 the other morning.

Really enjoyed Brisco County Jr but we’ve finished our watch of the first and only season. RIP Julius Carry you were epic as tracker/bounty hunter/bon vivant Lord Bowler and I think I loved your outfit almost as much as I loved you.

Coming up to the end of season 3 Expanse – still an amazing show!

14151 words. We’ll see what I’m up for today, but progress once again seems possible.

Lumosity brain exercises up next. I am never going to achieve the same scores for them as I did in 13/14 but I’m getting close for some of them.

Briefly thought about adding chat to this website. That would be funny.

New burner to replace the one I melted Jeff’s container on has been installed. Oy me. Hey, it only took two weeks.

There was a rat under the sink last night. We may have to call an exterminator, Buster doesn’t seem up for the job.

Confidential to Glenn dangit I ain’t even opened it yet.

sadly no mochi

I lookit evvywhere in the freezer aisles, no go. I imagine if it was in a more Chinese neighbourhood it would be different. Do I REALLY want to go to T n T? er no. I’ll keep my eyes peeled when I’m out though.

Jeff and I are still enjoying the leftovers from our SUMPTUOUS REPAST™. He really wishes he’d been in better shape for the main event, but leftovers rule!

Jeri Lynn broke a rib coughing. Story of our lives these days. Jeffrey her husband is being very helpful (it’s his default setting; he’s one of the dearest and kindest of men, not that anykind else would be worthy of her, lol.)

Very much looking forward to the new season of Miss Scarlett and the Duke. Yes, it’s Victorian copaganda, but we do so love the principals, and mOm enjoys making a recommendation for a show to us once in a way.

I stole Jeff’s Oodie after I gave mine to mOm and I’m practically living in it; if I’m wearing it I don’t need the heater on in my room at night.

Thinking with longing of my friends and family today; Dave in his east facing eyrie at Bathurst and Sheppard, the jasmine and the sandalwood. Peggy in her sprawling house filled with family and TOoo MucH sTUff. All the Dunnett folk across the country and elsewhere, madly sending greetings on the chat line. All the Statpower folks. I could have seen Jerome and didn’t. I’m not exactly phobic about public spaces but I ‘git anxious’ that’s for sure. Mike in his west facing eyrie along Kingsway. No sunbathing in December on his balcony, that’s for sure. Alexis ensconced in the family eyrie in the West End. Feeding hummingbirds; tracking our insaniam producendo weather. Jarmo and Susanna and Ninja the kitty, grieving still and always, since Ville (may his name be remembered) passed over the holidays. Tammy – it wasn’t enough, what I saw of her. Glenn – how I would enjoy just sitting and drinking coffee with you somewhere, to roll all this madness and sadness around and try to get a grip on it. Rob P, who told me YEARS ago to watch Farscape. Sue and Marylke and Katie S. and Ivy and Madelyn. Talks and shows and canoe trips and their deep listening. M&D and Ontie Mary. Missing Jim. I barely saw him these last five years, but I can’t think about his death without an inner wail that comes from my toes.

I should call Jan. There are a lot of shoulds. Too many.

This is my heart’s longing, that you all be well and facing 2023 with the love and equanimity we will all need. It’s gonna be rough folks and we need to be helpful and soft to counteract it all.

now that was a meal

I made the gravy (roast drippings sufficient) and the salad and the roasted potatoes; Mike made the shrimps with garlic, the three rib prime rib, the airfried brussel sprouts. Jeff and I and Mike ate ourselves into a state of pleasant repletion and I just ducked out of cleanup long enough to brag about it. Mike dry aged the roast for a week. Unbelievably tender and juicy.

superb meal, no notes. We’re lucky dogs and that was an incredible start to 2023, thank you o founder of the feast.

653 words on ‘The New Guy’.

another fine morning today

I did absolutely nothing yesterday except

one load of laundry

production of two meals, both of which involved standing and cooking, which miraculously I am now able to do after weeks of having trouble standing for any period of time

calm avoidance of invitation to Jerome’s (Mike called around 4 and I told him to drop by after if he went). I just thought my lack of social contact would turn into me autistic gabbling for hours while being worried about COVID and RSV and I couldn’t hack it

creating that L.M. Sacasas quote from yesterday using the absolute stinkpot software ‘paintbrush’ although it IS simple enough for my grandchild to use, so…

training, cuddling and brushing Buster repeatedly over the course of the day, including holding paws with him when his feets were cold (he genuinely likes holding paws with people, it’s adorable)

realizing that the balm from the bee place did actually heal the crack in my heel (I’d started bleeding, most distasteful) and now I need to reapply to the dry bits (face hands elbows etc.). It spreads well and smells lovely. Looking forward to getting more, stuff’s miraculous.

Realizing that it’s time to do Paul’s feet again. I’ll call him today and try once again to find out what he wants me to do about the car.

Checking if I have enough money to pay Suzanne, I do. However her car has been totalled thanks to this fucking weather we had last week so we may need to go get her.

continuing to produce coughs/mucus – substantially noisier than yesterday though I feel no worse, and in fact my mood continues to trend good although I had quite a crying jag yesterday evening thinking about how I’m likely to survive Buster and HOO BOY but I def. feel better today.

a complete review of Part II including copy edits and clarity edits

bringing the mail in… hey, there was mail!

Talking to Dave on the phone, and how lovely to hear his voice. He awaits word of a launch for his book. It continues to emit its own vibrations in this ever renewed universe.

posting in multiples to facebook, tumblr, twitter and dispensing goo on reddit

cheating to get the Wordle of the day after four guesses(Suzanne never cheats but she has a better starter word and doesn’t just guess, she has a system)

doing my Lumosity training, my scores have risen dramatically thank goodness

rewatching Here There Be Dragons (Expanse S2E11) which has SO MANY OF MY FAVOURITE LINES AND SCENES from that show

falling on the treats that Jeff brought back after his dental appointment with the savoir faire of a starving seagull           I M SNAKKY

taking a call from Tammy at the airport. It was an absolutely lovely conversation, she was SO sweet to me, and helpful too. That convo was everything about why I love her so much even if we slide past each other once in a while in terms of understanding – we talked about the book she gave me (about Henrietta Lacks) and the rest of the visiting she did, about what she’s going home to (she never takes ten days off so she’s expecting… a lot of emails, overflowing cat litter since the housesitter won’t have done it etc.) and she told me about the last hour of Banshees of Inisherin after I told her that brO and I bailed on it and you know what??? I’m not sorry we did; as much as I ADORE the two principal actors it was just too fucked up for me. Colin Farrell can do shit with his eyebrows that funambulists drool over.

Calling Rex Murphy a ‘harrumphosaurus’ on various social media platforms. I mean I could call it a day just with that one comment, I M JEENYOUS

Emailing my mOm a picture of a parrot perched on a bird identification book and looking with interest at a picture of a conspecific.

This morning I’ve done my Lumosity, cheated once again on Wordle (I should just stop doing it, it’s morally hazardous), mentally congratulated the Ukrainian forces for fending off every single fucking rocket the Russkys sent toward Kyiv yesterday, made coffee and consumed it, made peppermint tea for Jeff, shuffled stuff in the kitchen and started thinking about eggs and toast (again) for brekky. It’s easy and the cast iron pan’s perfectly seasoned now; how I love hearing the snap of eggs in butter on a nice hot stovetop.

I’m thinking of ordering more no-drip undies today. I don’t have much planned, but do I really have to? Do I?

 

 

 

Brief visit

It was lovely to see Tammy, however briefly. I met up with her in the appointed place and time. The shifter in the Echo seemed to be acting up, so no surprise when the check engine light came on and stayed on the instant I started to drive home. My response was to drive home along Kingsway and never exceed 45 kph (ducked out around Metrotown on the way back, twas a monkey howl of a nightmare around there) which angered the never ending supply of black Mercedes SUVs that seemed bent on sliding up my tailpipe the entire way. Sorry fellas, lassies.

Tammy asked me are you sure you’re not depressed? and I …. of course I’m depressed, I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is being so physically weak that I can’t walk a kilometre, being winded after climbing stairs, and experiencing crushing fatigue from standing for five minutes. That’s not depression. That sounds like long COVID to me. How I would get a diagnosis I have no idea. I’ll talk to Katie, she had a friend diagnosed, and of course make an appointment with my doc.

Today I’m thinking about moral hazard. There was a post on reddit about someone who works with the homeless in a large Canadian city, and they’re so burned out, underpaid, and subjected to having clients die, over and over again, that the person reports severe mental health issues and nothing available from work to assist.

I cried into Buster’s fur this morning. He knows I sometimes give fairly tight hugs just to feel something alive, and he tucks his claws away so he doesn’t hurt my lap. I miss Jim and can’t think of Jan and Nita and Carly (and Glenn, hi Glenn) without being hurt again by their loss, ever so much more than mine. I was standing in the kitchen and I thought “Captain Blackberry is gone” and waaaah I’m missing Tom. I think of John every time I walk through what used to be his bedroom (It’s the pinball room and Jeff’s workbench now). I should call Peggy. I don’t have the strength. These days I have to marshal myself just to do the absolute bare minimum of anything, and the slightest setback turns me into a wreck. I’m managing, but I want to skip this part. Jeff of course has been the soul of kindness.

Music and writing are impossible. I think about them, but can’t settle to work. I’m scared to call people in case I start making my mood – frangible, changeable, subject to betterment, but not necessarily – a friend’s problem.

I was supposed to go with Paul for a walk today. I may take a cab over there so we can do that… now that his car’s not supposed to be driven. Jeff and I are going to have to figure out what to do if someone didn’t show up in the middle of the night to tow it, as Paul mentioned might happen. I told Katie about it.

Holiday greetings

In no order:

Merry Xmas to the dude on reddit who asked an uncaring universe if he was a nutbar for not taking the Coquihalla this weekend to make it for a family Christmas. I assured him he was not crazy; nothing’s impossible for the person who doesn’t have to do it. When an atmospheric river meets an arctic outflow, wild shit falls from the skies.

To my brother Jeff I wish the very best the ‘holiday’ allows him – which is hilarious given that he’s a phone call away from having to work at any moment – and a wish that at some point over the next couple of days we settle in for some ‘real’ Christmas telly: Die Hard, a Call the Midwife Christmas special, maybe a Lord of the Rings or Hobbit binge. Maybe even watch the King’s Broadcast, if only to mock him roundly. I disdain that boorish manchild.

Love and social distancing to the fOlks; we’re not seeing you this Christmas. Remember when the kids were little? and we were somehow obliged to drive hither thither and yon in The.Worst.Fucking.Weather that Southern Ontario could shove in our faces at the end of its tobacco-stained arm? Those days have passed. We can all thank The Grand Joculator for that blessing. Of course I’d rather be there. But the great thing about being a member of this family is that we don’t chivvy each other into social occasions by nagging and guilting the shit out of each other or trivializing each other’s safety; I find this of more comfort than whatever I can derive in a ferry lineup after four cancellations.

To my Ontie Mary and all of her kin of the Niebuhr line, even the ones that are still convinced Jesus in a UFO is comin’ for the righteous, I extend greetings and best wishes for a quiet, joyous and safe Christmas. Cousinly greets to Shauna, John and Katherine.

To the spirit of Jim P, and his surviving family; I hope you have the best Christmas you can. I love you guys and wish I had something other than my own grief to offer as a gift.

To my friend Peggy, whom I haven’t even called in a month because I’m such a bum, Warmest and Brightest wishes of the season. I don’t think I’ll get those biscotti to you before Christmas. I haven’t been busy; I just keep forgetting to buy almonds, and when I looked at the prices at Rave-on yesterday I damned near died of fright.

To the crows and wee birdies; yes I got peanuts and sunflowers; I will put out feed during the worst of the weather event.

To my friend Dave, shifting on his laurels as a soundly published poet, I offer hopes for a spark of cognition which becomes a flame of output. Yeah, right.  You and I have always been at opposite ends of the word spigot….

To my pharmacist YOU ARE THE FUCKING BOMB. Happy holidays! To any pharmacists reading this, thou as well.

To my doctor; thank you for the latest scrip; after many months my blood pressure is now pretty much normal whenever I record it.

To Sue: may the year ahead be filled with family, love, and the work you have chosen with such distinction and success.

To all my former coworkers at the House of X – even if I didn’t like you very much when I was working with you, how I miss you now! It’s a reminder of how familiarity, and time, shifts all things in our feelings. Thinking of you all at midwinter, with particular effect for Mike (of course, special mention), Jerome (seeing him on the 28th weather willing), Stephanie, Sarah, Glenda, Mohammad, Arzina, Jim, Brian, Tom, Ryan, Carlos, Darryl, Ngoc, Patricia and many others whose faces are clear and whose names I cannot now recall.

To my landlady Kim F, who is currently training her replacement and I cannot tell you how sad this makes me since she is literally one of the people I’ve known longest in this town, I’ll probably never see her again after she quits— You were a really good landlady. Sure glad I didn’t have to call you about a plumber. I hope you have a lovely holiday and your daughter brings you nice presents.

To Tammy, whom I’m supposed to visit with on the 26th. O darlin’, I hope your trip to Vancouver (she’s flying in from Hawaii on Saturday) goes smoothly, but I really don’t think it will. Even so, I wish you the best of this season and my earnest hopes for a lovely day of tooling around the lower mainland seeing sights for Boxing Day. That’s what I wish for us. (We were thinking of getting together with the fam but holy cats with the amount of respiratory crud going through that house I can’t see that being a good idea a-tall.)

For Paul, hopes for a better sounding chest; for Keith, well he already got several denominations of my best wishes for a great Christmas (and promptly spent it on groceries, foreign editions please copy); for Katie, grace and peace for 20 minutes in the middle of her bustling household. In the spirit of Christmas I publicly acknowledge that Daxus is back with Katie and we’re all trying to hold grace for someone making an effort. Katie’s happier. I don’t know what else to say. We’re allowed to change our minds.

To Alex and Ryker; a grandmother’s blessing on you. You’re not getting anything else from me, by order of mammabear.

Ah Suzanne! I have enveloped you as a family member and it’s a wonderful thing. I hope you have the peaceful, joyous and family filled Christmas of your fondest wishes. (Note. Suzanne is Dax’s mother. Suzanne knows how to do blended families and I am doing my best to learn from her.) I hope you have all the gluten free treets yer belleh can hold!  Hope three days a week of Rykercare doesn’t prove too much for you.

Fond greetings to Bonnie.

To Leo and Linda and their lively agglomeration of kids and grandkids: merry and joyous best wishes of the season to you all!

To Catherine C, Bob W, Colin H, Jan & Soon and their kinfolk, my Seattle filkfen, Cindy, Jaz, Elias and Kaitlyn (sp), Lois and Bob, kids and grandkids, Ruth and John & their kids, Juliana & household, Al P., Lorna @ IHOP, all the Doordashers who’ve brought food over the last couple of years (and the nameless kind souls who cooked it), to the people processing images from the JWST, Michael Balter & the rest of the gang on twitter, I wish health, strength, and fortune at Christmas and for the year to come.

 

 

 

 

 

sad news

Jerome and Shannon are getting divorced. Their wedding (I wrote an extensive review September 7 2008) was nigh perfect and I entertained such high hopes. It sounds reasonably amicable. We traded other bad news. (Cancer, dementia, more dementia, issues around caregiving). I’ll see them both, plus their kids, on the 28th.

Damn.

Just, damn.

sad loss

I haven’t received official word, but it appears we’ve lost a family member.

Paul got to his appointment yesterday. It was dark when we got back and I realized it was the first time I had driven in the dark for years. Unpleasant; I managed to get lost in my own old neighbourhood for about two seconds (I turned right one turn too early, had to make a left turn onto 16th during rush hour. LOL no.)

It’s 3 am and I’m up so I’m making coffee.

Gosh I’m sad right now.

pOp is on the mend, word comes.

 

Quick visits

I went to the pharmacy finally, start the diuretic this am. I shall pee with even more vigour than I do now, oh doodie.

I visited with Ruth and Lois at Caspell Junction. Both the kids were there. Ruth made a roasted yam and pomegranate seed green salad and I made myself tea and brought the chicken wings I prepared the other day (oven baked from scratch, thank GOD I bought kitchen shears, they make wing prep go MUCH faster). They got reheated along with leftover schnitzel from Balkan house in the air fryer so it was quite a lovely meal of fresh and toasty items.

Lovely (and brief, only two hours) visit, simply topped me up. Ryker is getting molars so he keeps being super busy and then grizzling; chasing after the indoor drone and grizzling, tripping over shit and grizzling. At the same time he was sweet and I got one mini cuddle with him.  Even people he live with swear he’s grown in the last week. He will be his father’s son and simply IMMENSE.

Dax was there and loaned me a DVD; he then left for home to do laundry. How long he and Caspell Junction will be two separate households is anybody’s guess but civility reigned for the occasion so I’m going to keep comments and speculations off line.

Ruth looks great and Lois has grown her hair out long so we’re all silver sisters together. They sat down with Paul previously and worked through many of the issues that have been keeping us up at night with the family and all, and them stepping up like this was matched by how amazingly compliant Paul was with them. Honestly I’d like to see anyone stand before their combined energy and blow them off. Good luck chuckles as John might say.

Keith got his ‘Christmas present’ – money. He intends to buy something entirely frivolous and computer related, which is fine by me. Katie already got her money.

Katie looked happier than I’ve seen her in ages.

THEN in a beautiful example of how nothing happens to me for weeks and then boom, Mike turned up with a new Larrivée spruce top ukelele (for himself I hasten to add) which cost an insane amount of money, but I laughed playing it, it is SO LOUD and the intonation is nothing short of spectacular. I played my ‘Fantasia on the Elementary Theme by Sean Callery’ and ‘the Vancouver song’ and ‘The Friend who bought me this ukelele’ and whatever else I’ve worked up on that instrument and he wants tablature for a couple of those so that will keep me busy; I’ve never used Finale to generate tabs so excellent chance to practice my skills.

We ordered White Spot for delivery (Mike paid, bless him), drank dealcoholized beers, watched some Rick and Morty and rewatched the first ep of Wednesday so Mike could get its measure. Then about 7 he went home. Work continues to be foul and hauling two shifts, one for here and one for training in the Philippines. He’s exhausted and has a permanent sleep deficit and insomnia and he’s just going to collapse if this keeps up but that’s capitalizm for ya.

And of course with that much social contact I was both exhausted and buzzing.

12261 words

wonderful housefilk

Paul was in excellent form and let the singing for a couple of tunes including the Co-pilot song (followed by Cindy’s filk of it for Stargate Atlantis), Save a Fighter Pilot’s Ass, and It takes a lot to laugh it takes a train to cry. He borrowed Jeffrey’s guitar.

Then he did something I had to pull Peggy aside and explain about. Optimism is not the long term plan. Nobody was ‘impacted’ but it was concerning.

Jeffrey and Jeri Lynn were in fine form and have since arrived back home to their cats and their comfy bed, safe. Everyone enjoyed lunch – I ordered from Big Star and Jeffrey and Jeri Lynn are now converts – she got the number 1 which allows you to experience Thanksgiving in a sandwich.

Keith made and Katie containerized beef stew. Unbelievably good although his use of thyme is liberal and to my taste buds lingering at the doorway of excessive. Jeff if you want any better get at it.

Just have to hit save on this; the wind is unbelievable right now and the power could die at any minute. My laptop’s charged, Jeff’s loaner non-phone likewise, I’ve had coffee and stew, let the day drop down on me.

I wrote 41 whole words yesterday. I could say something rude at this point but I’ll do the NYT wordle and my Lumosity training instead in case the power dies.