Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
He ain’t dead, but Dr Filk is going to be a very dinged up puppy for the next little while.
Quoting Lady Miss B – He was in an accident with an SUV – broken some ribs, his tibia, and his foot. He’s in surgery now for his foot. No head injury, sounds like. That’s all I know now.
Every morning she climbs up on me and ritually sneezes in my face. This is, according to the lad I got her from, pretty normal.
She is struggling less and less when I brush her; when she’s about as relaxed as I can expect, I’ll bathe her. Jeff has made me swear a mighty oath that I won’t do it unless he can film the entire thing. I’m thinking we should film it AND get stills. It’s gonna be an event. Now kitty is stalking the power cord for the MacBook. Now she’s chasing Gizmo off his food dish…. bad plan.
To be able to wake up at 2 am, with her just out of my sleepthrashing range on the bed, instantly purring when I reach out to touch her ludicrously soft fur, is the most beautiful thing in my life right now. I know I kinda ‘bought a friend’ but there was no guarantee she would even like me, and but she’s showing every sign of liking me a lot, rushing up to me when I come home from work. She likes Jeff fine, but I’m the one who cleans her and brushes her, so she knows who mom is.
She’s got the boys completely whipped, and it hasn’t even been two weeks.
When Katie was here for dinner two Sundays ago Margot jumped onto the blue exercise ball in the living room. Jeff reports that she has now jumped onto the ball and stood on it for a second and then jumped off. I wish I had somebody who could circus train her, she’s got native talent. The man who runs the cat circus (and while looking for him I found the Charles Mingus Cat Toilet Training Program, apparently written by the bassist himself) says that by watching a cat carefully you can tell if they have a certain bent and then you very slowly and patiently shape the behaviour until they are pushing strollers full of other cats, walking on high wires, walking on their front paws, and doing complicated dance routines with other cats, among the many other bizarre things he’s trained cats to do.
Hm. Well, I’ve been remiss in reporting the social news. Dr. Filk paid us a flying visit on Friday, and mightily glad was I to see him, and he found la belle Margot entertaining.
Paul and the kids were by for Sunday dinner and we watched Jurassic Park. Paul brought the best pork roast, and we had onions and carrots and taters and corn, so it was a real Sunday dinner.
No date with my new friend this past weekend, I’ve been feeling a bit off colour and my foot is still hurting like a b9st9rd so anything involving more than about ten blocks of walking finishes me off. Yes, I should see a doctor, but for what? To get told it’s sprained ligaments and I should get orthotics? I am so tired of going to the doctor and finding out I’m a jeezly hypochondriac. Given that I’m fifty I’m sure I’ll get bad news eventually but every health scare I’ve had except for my back – which is the same as always, thanks – has turned out to be figmentary. Actually, I took Robaxicet last night and I had an AWESOME night’s sleep.
Just fixed poached eggs and toast for brekkie, and I am now contemplating a second cup of coffee. Oh Margot, quit chewing on the cable….. If you get electrocuted, nobody will be able to tell.
The landpeers have rearranged the way they park their vehicles so I can use the walkway. Jeff and I are responding by ensuring they have the rent cheques in hand in about fifteen minutes. It’s actually kinda handy having the landpeers that close.
I handed out biscotti at work yesterday. Man, I love doing that.
I wish I could blog about work. But continued employment beckons encouragingly, so I will defer to my more sensible, grownup, beaten down by capitalizm self, and keep my icecream siphon closed.
Speaking of ice cream. I brought some home last night. Then I said to Jeff, “Screw this noise… Dessert, it’s what’s for supper.” Thus my atonement with a nourishing and sensible brekkie today.
It had never occurred to me to put those two words together in that order, but here they are in an article about semen allergy in women. I was going to write more on the subject, but I’ve been tasteless enough.
Yeah, well. I got off the bus this morning and experienced searing chest pain, pain radiating into my back, and my vision greyed out for about ten seconds.
Panicking, I called work and got the First Aid attendant on the blower, and he came up with another coworker and met me halfway down the path. The pain quit pretty much as soon as I got the oxygen, but I feel really strange and I’ll be talking to the doctor today.
I got into an ambulance but assured the attendants I had perked up, went to work and promptly got sent home again by a very stern and uncompromising version of Patricia, who hand delivered me to Jeff, who came and got me. I’m glad she sent me home, ’cause I do feel off colour.
I’m still having waves of discomfort, but I’m thinking this is either radiating back pain, a pinched nerve, some new and entirely weird variant of a migraine, or just plain who the hell knows. I know it isn’t my heart – they ran a tape on me in the ambulance and it all looked fine.
The paramedic asked me if I’d been under stress lately. I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t think a LOT of stress. Like I said, who knows. It was embarrassing though, and next time I think I’ll wait until I can’t move to ring the baloney alarm….
I would very much like to publicly thank John V. for his professionalism and for the relief I felt when I knew he’d be dealing with it. And I’d like to thank Sandy C for calling the ambulance, and the folks who responded. I feel very cared for today. Although it seems there wasn’t anything wrong with me that being fondled by an ambulance attendant (joking, joking!) and supplemental oxygen couldn’t fix….
This is really gross, although thank goodness there are no pictures.
PS Jeff DOES eat his veggies, I’m just being a jerk. Why, he even requests veggies sometimes. Like bacon. And brussel sprouts.
Paul and Keith were supposed to come over here and haul me off to Renfrew Pool, but it’s snowing really hard AGAIN so they bailed. Jeff and I are thinking of going instead. A swim and a soak would be lovely.
Pot roast for dinner….. Amazing how I can be digesting brekkie and thinking about dinner already.
The agnostic guide to surviving the Bible belt (which I append because mOm could probably use it….)
Oh, the me-me goodness. This is a list of words applying to memes. I particularly like membot.
We’ve come to the portion of the year HEAVILY BIASED toward self-improvement. Everybody, get better.
Why music? Great article from the economonomist.
I was talking to a friend on the phone late last night. The vitamin D blasted me out of my winter doldrums (and killed my joint pain stone dead… who knew?) and I was sharing my good fortune with him. Then he axed if I’d written anything lately. I was so disappointed with myself for saying no that I wrote an instrumental called – as you see above. Jeff will, if I ask him nice, once more try to make me understand how to FTP something bigger than 2 megs…. I will post when I can.
This is a candle for the safety of a friend at church who is going through a very scary divorce. I mean, really scary, like I’m scared to read about her in the news scary.
This is a candle of thanksgiving that I have money to help my kids as they establish themselves, and the support of Paul and my folks in that endeavour.
This is a candle of hope for Unca Dave. My mOm is with him now, and I think she and Unca Barry and the rest of Unca Dave’s kin who are visiting him are really wonderful.
This is a candle for Kopper at the turning of the year. And one each for her unique and remarkable children.
This is a candle for Mike and his new apartment *yay*.
This is a candle for Keith, who for his recent demonstrations of manturity, leaves lights and appliances on as if he wasn’t a day over fourteen. Typo intentional, yo. Just in case you were wondering if hip hop is dead. Not, just on life support.
This is a candle for Tammy, who’s back from France.
This is a candle each for my trio of friends/family in Kanata. Brother James, a big shout out for the happiness you gave just by sending postcards to me at work and given Karen a smile from me. Leo & fambly, thanks for sharing the pictures of your travels – and that porcupine, which made me burst out laughing when I saw it. Deb, big warm seasonal inflected-with-cinnamon hugs for you, Jim and Jenn, and your companion animals….
This is a candle for me. I feel human again. Hurting, but able to think about something else besides me for a change. It’s pretty good right now.
I was super happy to be back at work yesterday. While I was gone things apparently fell to rack and ruin in the neckrub department. LTGW said, “We were lost without you so I went out and bought an Allegra” which turns out to be a weird back massager thingy. Two bucks at the dollar store! Who knew I was so easily replaced? Fortunately that little piece of wood doesn’t enter transactions in our sluggish, crabby and unsupportable ERP, which, so rumour has, will be replaced by SAP in a couple of years so I guess I needn’t worry about being replaced. Chris liked his atheist greeting card. Patricia liked her pommeau – a Calvados/pear cider blend – and I suspect she’ll like it even better when she tries it. Robof9 forgave me for not bringing him anything, and I only gave postcards to my other two teammates but AT LEAST it was someplace I’d actually been.
I continue to have issues with jet lag at odd times of the day, but I should be back in the rhythm of things more or less by Wednesday.
Katie was by and organized her stuff. Then we all watched the last half of an HBO movie Iron Jawed Angels, which was about the fight for the vote for women in the US. There was an incredible roster of talent and the script was pretty good, although tiresomely anachronistic in a couple of spots. Hillary Swank was great.
It’s POURING.
I got a wonderful night’s sleep last night. On Tammy’s recommendation I am taking glucosamine and it really does reduce inflammation in my back and hips. While in Paris we were talking about her recent diagnosis of osteo arthritis and when I showed off the special noises both of my knees make these days she said I ought to get to a doctor. Two days of glucosamine and the noise is much reduced, at least in my left knee. I suspect that stumping down a hill in uncomfortable or non-orthotic shoes every morning is stressing the joints. I wish I still lived close to Tom and Peggy – I’d probably be more inclined to swim.
Time for a quick hosing down and then out into this rain, which I now laugh at because I have a Goretex jacket from MEC. Hey, at least I’m not likely to leave the damned thing on the bus, like my last umberella.
Christmas joke:
Ozzy Osbourne said, “Christmas is a time for remembering. So that’s me ****ed!”
From an interesting NPR article, here’s Brian Eno on singing as a path to happiness:
Singing aloud leaves you with a sense of levity and contentedness. And then there are what I would call “civilizational benefits.” When you sing with a group of people, you learn how to subsume yourself into a group consciousness because a capella singing is all about the immersion of the self into the community. That’s one of the great feelings — to stop being me for a little while and to become us. That way lies empathy, the great social virtue.
Safe injection sites ARE HUMANE and SAVE TAXPAYER MONEY. Anybody who thinks that Jesus wants drug users to die of AIDS, suffering, and at great public expense, should go back and read the New Testament, because you’re missing something….
Dr Filk (who is occasionally blogging on LJ now, woo hoo!) forwards this link – he says it’s the best column he’s ever read.
I wrote a post and it vanished. That always makes me mad. I went back through my pages hit on and found this: Please Vote!
I have a coworker who is addicted to lip balm. He jokes about it.
I am at a super low ebb. Everything takes a million years; I feel like I can scarcely move. Fortunately, I have to get up and go to work, otherwise I’d just lie here and moan quietly. Knowing this state of mind is entirely temporary is useful; I once believed that if I felt bad I’d feel bad forever, and now I know I’ll feel lousy for a while and then it will go away. Also, I can think of at least three things, off the top of my head, that would make me feel better. Obama winning, lunch at the Himalaya and seeing some critters.
I just managed four weeks without a single cigarette, not so much as a drag. That’s the longest I’ve gone in probably 10 years. Unca Dave getting sick was the wakeup call I needed.
Since it takes a month to make a new habit, I’m now contemplating the next peak to conquer. Hopefully I won’t need oxygen and a Sherpa.
Oh wait, banjo music!
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 …
Print me up a new liver boys, this one’s no good to me now.
One of the best I quit letters in the history of the English language. (link removed for security reasons)
And now, a surf boarding rat. Or, at least, a rat who is earnestly engaged in the business of NOT drowning.
How do I know chipper’s got a boyfriend ? she’s not sending me links no more!!! Me happy! It can’t all be doom and gloom. Oh, crap, I have about two minutes to shower and power outta here.