Category: Friends

How to respond….

One friend answered my enquiry as to how he’s doing with, “Glad I can’t find the key to the trigger lock on my 45”.

 

Christ and Odin.  I don’t think he’s talking about homicide. 

 

Another friend is watching the explosive decompression of her brother’s marriage.  This story has everything except Yul Brynner, and I can’t repeat a word of it because a) it’s none of my business and b) there are minor children involved.  Let’s just say that in the past I’ve said that wifey is, at best, suffering from narcissistic personality disorder and at worst is capable of the kind of life altering nuttery that drags everyone who gets close to her through a mire of lies and attention getting bs.

As for me, I am going to try to keep being content, although I am definitely having my struggles at the mo….

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 …

Sneaky sneaky

I continue to be extremely sneaky – my most recent foray into sneakiness was telling my mandolin teacher “Lady Miss Banjola is a GEEENIUS!  Heer, I be showink you…” and then I played Tune Away…..

Anne immediately said, “Forward me the link, there’s somebody I gotta play that for.”  Ha ha!  Then I played her the Tapioca song via Youtube.  My extremely low key plans for world domination through music continue unabated.  And I met her husband – I only found out last week that he sits in the car and waits for her during her teaching gigs, and I was torn between being appalled and thinking, “aw, sweet!” so I went out and said hi.  Then I had a brief lesson and Anne and I shot the breeze for a while (it’s okay, hubby has a book and he’s used to much longer waits, apparently).

I met Kevin, a friend of Jeff’s, last night, and watched the two of them play 2009 EA Hockey (which is amazing, by the way) and found out that housing prices in Kelowna are just as stupid as they are in Vancouver, at least for the time being. Beer and Switzerland Chicken was consumed.  Robot Chicken was watched. Jon Lajoie was watched.  The hi-res version of Presto! was watched (and, to my unsurprise, I saw things I hadn’t noticed before, including that the rabbit’s name is Alec Kazam). Kevin belongs to a band called Grooveyard but since he’s likely moving back to the island with his wife and progeny, I doubt that band will live much longer.

And I don’t know whether it’s true or not, but Robof9 led me to believe that he was going to try to find me a nice middle aged man.  It used to be Single, Straight and Solvent, but these days I’m goin’ for best two in three.  What can I say, Robof9 is a man who laughs in the face of the difficult, and by sheer force of brains contrives to elude the grip of the impossible.

Next up:

Coffee

Wringing hands

One of the things I really don’t like about being far away from my friends, especially when they are in trouble, or troubled, or just plain flat out overwhelmed by events, is that I cannot hug them, make them tea, or tell them to their faces how wonderful they are….

For Tammy, I light a candle and hope that an intelligent, articulate man notices your strength, intelligence and love of life.  Sooner would be better.  And for once, please, Goddess bright, a guy who doesn’t shrivel into a little worm when you apply your brains and emotions to challenges!  Extra crispy wishes for knees to stay good through the France trip, although I’ll push you through the Louvre in a wheelchair if I have to.

For Carrie, I light a candle and hope that this parting turns into a new opportunity.  Damn, I had had such hopes for him….

For Deb, I light a candle and hope that my ‘advice’ is received as intended, and I sincerely hope that you get some surcease for the unrelenting amount of strain you’ve been under.  Hug Jim for me, hug Jenn for me, and pat Spence on the back; the menfolks have been awesome on this one.

Show off, show off, show off.

Best….. smackdown…..ever.

Now I show off my brother, Kelsey and Sean.

Next, Keith, me and Katie, and Keith and I are wearing the hats we JUST BOUGHT at Edie’s Hats.  I bought a hat from a hat company that’s been in business in England for 250 years; I nearly bought a hat handmade in Montreal but frankly the hat was too girly for me, because although I am girly about some things, my appearance isn’t one of them….

Can you guess where we are???? of course, we’re in the Granville Island Brewery, drinking Winter Ale and being very cheerful and convivial; the sun was blasting down like midsummer and I had a NEW HAT.

News from Elly

NEWS FLASH!!  Doug and I are moving to Toronto as of the new year.  Lotus Land is over for us.  Back to the Big Peach and all of its imperfections, dowdiness, creativity, energy, wealth, intensity, colour, possibilities, people, politics, pollution, noise, music, poetry, intelligence, stupidity, arrogance, humility, joy and really big garbage pails ….and of course, the big draw, my family.

 

Sad face.  But I’m happy for anybody who’s moving closer to children and grandchildren.

France planning

I called Tammy this morning and got updated on the trip planning, also the various stuff that’s going on with her (I light a candle for her health, which is good, but she has knee surgery in prospect and lives in a three story house).  Today I have to scrape the iron oxide offa my French and compose a letter to the hotel in Paris (shown is the view in front of the hotel, which is on Saint Lazare) asking if we can ditch our bags there because Air Canada in its infinite wisdom has rescheduled our flight.

I’m SO inclined to say screw it to the timeshare in Rouen (actually outside of Rouen) and stick with Paris, which has ZERO tourists in November – it’s all business travellers and locals doing Christmas shopping.  However, the call of Juno Beach, which has a Canadian interpretive center there now, and Calvados and Camembert out Normandy way is too much.

More France planning:  Review all the Dunnett references to Paris and Rouen and places between.

More France planning:  No car in Paris – it would be insane – and Tammy has agreed to book a car in Rouen rather than drive from Paris.  It will be a lot more restful to take a train and getting out of the city will be much easier.

More France planning:  I haven’t a thing to wear!  I definitely need an anorak and some mary jane style shoes.  If I didn’t know every women in France was a size 8, I’d plan on buying clothes there; as it is I’d have about as much luck getting clothes that fit in Richmond.

More France planning… internet access?  I wonder what it’s like at the time share.  I will enquire….

steamed lamb

….actually I ate kleftico and then the Luddite and I popped over to Hastings Steam and Sauna. This time, it being ever so much colder outside than the last time, I steamed for a GOOD long time, and now my back feels much better, thanks.  It’s kinda odd doing something like that with somebody you’re no longer romantically involved with, but as usual the Luddite cracked me up any number of times, and it was all very light hearted and fun, and he’d never been so it was pleasant to introduce him, and this time I remembered to get an extra towel because once my hair is wet there’s simply too much of me for one towel, and it’s only a buck extra.  None of the evening was planned; we didn’t even know where we were going to eat until I got in his pig of a 1980 Toyota diesel truck (I tease, I’m actually quite fond of that vehicle, although I don’t know how much longer the Luddite will be able to stretch not replacing the windscreen).  And it’s only 10:18, so I’m going to sleep and something tells me I will sleep well and long. Oh, and he had Ecuadorean chocolate with him.  Looxshury!

ScaryClown dines here

ScaryClown was here for dinner; he was fed buffalo sloppy joes, and he had seconds, lord love him. Also, I received from the mysterious and everedgy Mike (everybody’s favourite chinky chinaman) a call which said, “Guess where I am?” to which the answer could only be “Wreck Beach, you wretch”.

I send glories and posies, firelight and starlight and the light of the borealis, the light of the sea in the night as your oar goes through it, to Chipper, and she knows why.

I light a candle for Juliana and her efforts, and her album.

I light a candle for Carrie and her peregrinations.

For Tanya, and she knows why.

For Patricia, and she knows why.

For Peggy, in her trials with Tom and her usual daily challenges; I quail at the notion of carrying such a load myself, and can only love.

For my mother, and her traversing the dual canyons of the annual checkup and the dead and dying relatives; for my father in his travails without question or comment.

For my grandmother, may she pass into machine intelligence and live forever in the annals of my family, for gold, for good, forever.

For Mr Music and the sleeping giant he imagines into life.

For my cousins; Alex, Alyssa, Darcy, Shauna, Katherine, & John, and Gerald, of course, and his kin.

For my coworkers, Salmon Man, Cristian, Prashant, Jeff, Jenn, Hardeep, Joe, Gianna, Dale, Andy, Heather, Mike B, Mike M, Sandy, Robof9, Peter T, Al Karim, Francis, LTGW, Lindsay, Mel, Graham, Inne, Jeff, Bill.  Chris and Ky and Zari of course.

For the downstairs tenants, may they increase in health and strength.

For my Unca Dave, may he live forever in song, story, fable and myth.

For Lucile.

For Lois, Ruth and their close kin.

For Lady Miss B and her loved ones. For Dr. Filk, Swampy and Maggie.

For Suzanne.

For the ladies (and for the occasional lad) who lunch. All hail Dunnett.

For Spider Robinson and Academie Duello.

For Tammy.

For Rev Katie, and Pope Mary.

For David J. D. and the hard road he set me on,

For Alan.

For the hidden, the unreal, the unseen, for the lies which spin themselves into truth, the stories which harden into tradition, the festivals which anchor human life from one season to the next, a candle, and a warning.

For Keith, for Kate and their dad, Paul, candles, and blessings.

For the people I love and don’t speak of; for the people I hate and don’t speak of.

For my brother Jeff.

recovery mode

Watching Sarah Palin struggle to assemble an English sentence while Joe Biden marshalled his talking points and droned through them was just about the most painful thing I ever subjected my eyes to.  Nor have my ears quit sulking.  Honestly I’m going to take a fresh look at Adam Sandler, I may have misjudged his talent.  The low point was “Her reward is in heaven” which just about had me barfing up my guts.  Biden wasn’t nearly as embarrassing but the idea of him being president after an assassination is just wretched.  The comments about marriage had Patricia muttering “Coward” to Biden.  I writhed in uncontrollable embarrassment and dismay (I do that, causing Patricia to ask me repeatedly if I was okay) but got through it in time to realize that two measly beers and the BEST DAMNED SMOKED GRUYÈRE evah were enough to put me in a sort of tryptophan coma and I slept for a couple of hours until I realized, on groggily awakening, that I wasn’t at home (strange cats closely inspecting my feet helped).  Then P called me a cab and I went home and – amazing! – changed into my jammies and then fell into bed like a downed Douglas fir.

Let me describe the Gruyère.  It was cave aged and smoked.  Little crystals of intense cheesiness blended into a smooth authoritative but restrained crumbly heavenly aroma and mouth feel.   The whisky cheddar was good; the incredible Port Salut almost liquefied.  And those crackers!  God, those are the best cheese crackers, I have to get some and then figure out where I store them so I don’t eat every single one as soon as the box comes home.  The cavalcade of cheese â„¢ abides in the West End – all is right with the world.  There is no political problem that cheese can’t solve, I tell you.

Tonight, The Con.

Dreadful news

Tom was burned badly in an industrial accident yesterday.  He’s in VGH and I will learn more about his condition soon.  Unca Dave knows ALL ABOUT electrical burns, and his description led me to believe they are painful and nasty.  (Watching himself get the dressings changed from high above the bath, blown right out on morphine, asking himself, “Who is that poor bastard and why is he screaming!?”)  I will call Peggy soon and get an update, but Tom’s alive and sedated in the hospital and for this we should all be very, very thankful.

In passing

Unca Dave is expected here this afternoon.

Scarlett Johannson got married – in Canada no less – & Paul Newman died.

I light a candle for Cindy, who said, “You amuse me,” on the phone last night in a tone of voice completely free of sarcasm, when I explained something to her about the way my mind works. (I was also being the world’s largest wuss, but she was okay with that too.)  We discussed how she and a bunch of other fans got into Bridge Studios the day Atlantis died and she has pics of herself standing in the gate.  Happy swoon.  I’ve been in Bridge Studios, back in ’05. Given what’s happened since, some of the comments I made in October 05 are pretty funny.   (Like, the comment about how Katie loves to fix hair???)

I also get to think about what I’m going to say at the panel on Friday night.  Yes, I’m going to a con, Vcon to be precise, and I’m going to be on a media filk panel.  Should I tell them that my secret to writing media filk is to go to the internet, download every scripted reference to the character and then find likely rhymes?  Seems kinda mechanical, but that’s how I wrote Clem, full title Just Call me Clem.  (Clem being a demon from Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

For breakfast – BLTs.  I don’t know why, except we had all the ingredaments in the house at one time.  For dinner – roast beast with veg.  Why?  It’s Sunday, and a family elder is coming by.  There’s chicken soup on the stove and I’m thinking of making refrigerator cookies.

Watched Starter for 10.  It’s a very good hearted movie, and if you love 80’s Britpop/late new wave you’ll drool on the soundtrack.  The movie is well shot, well-scripted and laugh out loud funny in spots.  Also, Dominic Cooper is bloody gorgeous.. and he’s in Keira Knightley’s new movie the Duchess, which makes me want to see it more.

My watch working again is making me happy.  Being registered to vote makes me happy (I had completely dropped off the rolls, which is perplexing).  And now, I’m going to practice my mandolin, do some paperwork, pay some bills, laundrify, and get another song written down…. and see if we can get to the end of season five of NCIS.  Yes, we’ve been watching rather a lot of it, and I’m really liking Michael Weatherly’s take on DiNozzo more and more.  He kinda grows on you.

It’s a beautiful day…. Mike was going to take me to the Wreck, as it’s supposed to be beachy today, but Unca Dave is coming. I am in a really good mood.  I assume it’s the weather, nothing else has changed.

More candles

I light a candle for Carrie, who has left her fiancé of three years and is heading back to Ontario.

I light another candle for Unca Dave, who is coming to see me and Jeff on the weekend.

I light a candle for Mike, who hauled me off to Hastings Steam and Sauna last night and pummelled my right shoulder for a while, and so I feel physically a lot better this morning.  Emotionally (to quote Dunnett) I’m a stunned bird in the reeds.  Maybe a fresh cup of coffee will cheer me up.

I gotta tell ya, Hastings Steam and Sauna is a really nice sauna.  Designed and built by a FInn in the mists of time, each of the suites has a sauna room, a shower room and a front room with a couple of extremely utilitarian bed shelf thingees.  The music that is piped in is wonderful (last night it sounded like Exchange, Eno and Norah Jones) and has been every other time I’ve been there, and the only drawback was that we were in suite 2 when the street cleaner went by on Hastings and both Mike and I went bug-eyed trying to figure out what the hellacious noise was – the whole room was shaking and the tile made for really loud echoes.  The plus side was that the horrid fluorescent light in the front room of the suite had burned out so the room was lit by candles. Instant spa experience, just add paraffin.

There’s a hallway on the back of the suites which allows access to the employees.  You get 90 minutes in the suite but only an hour in the ‘wet’ rooms so the employees can clean after each use.

I light a candle for Hastings Steam and Sauna.  Highly recommended!