Category: Health

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 …

gathering up links and distributing them to the needy

Uke! wakka wakka wakka

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.

Sundry and various

Banjos ‘n’ brain surgery (thanks Lady Miss B for tipping me off to this).

Just in time for Hallowe’en… do you find fake snot too expensive?  Make your own!

How to be a member of the new urban poor. (warning, parts of this are emotionally quite roiling.)

It’s an opinion piece about the economy, but I learned some things too.

Mailing dates for Christmas presents.

I’m off to Victoria tomorrow morning, and hope to see Dr. Filk and the Pondside folks whilst there, and a WHOLE bunch of movies, musicals mostly, to assist me with my ‘homework’ from Mr. Music.  He gave me a list of musicals and told me to examine ‘Form and Format’.  I wonder if he wants an expository essay.

Warm Human Experience

My mOm and I have a little ‘thing’ that we say when a standardized interaction – a bus ride, a visit to a government office, some brushing up against of another human being who is somehow a functionary – turns into a genuine experience plein de twists and turns and full honour given to the humanity of all parties.  Such was my toothicus dirtius cleaning today.  Because I am EVIL, and I mean EVIL, I occasionally take much pleasure in messing with people’s heads. So the gal who polished my teeth, who unless I miss my guess has antecedents who hail from Vietnam way, was horrified (I mean TEARS IN HER EYES) to hear that I “only brush my teeth three times a week, and floss when I remember to.”  (This isn’t true, as will shortly be revealed…. like now, because if I really DIDN’T brush my teeth I’d be a seething mass of cavities.  I mean, when was the last time on this blog that you can recollect I went to the dentist?  I’ve been tested for AIDS and got Hep shots more recently than I’ve been to the dentist, and viz all that, I don’t know whether I’m bragging, complaining or merely reporting the facts.  Anyway… no cavities – except the ones I was originally issued with, suitably edited, augmented and enlarged by nature, thanks.)

So Toothy Dude – my very first male hygienist, wOOt – shakes my hand and within 30 seconds I’ve told him about the whole “slam the beggar woman against the wall” thing from Assassin’s Creed, and he’s told me about the Weezer concert, and the Cure concert he went to earlier, and he’s mentioned psilocybin.  How do they find me?  Am I like a magnet for teh weird, wacky, wonderful?  Go me.  Anyway, it was the best cleaning evah.  Also, this dental palace has THE MOST EXTENSIVE AND EXPENSIVE HALLOWEEN DECORATIONS I HAVE EVER SEEN IN A PROFESSIONAL OFFICE.  They have elaborate skeletons occupying chairs in the waiting room and my dental station was decorated like a Warner Bros version of a crypt.

Then I went to London Thugs, where they were out of the USB turntable, no duh, and bought curative objects, crackers, and chocolate, and then to Kin’s Farm Market, where I bought a roster of root vegetables, and then I bought an apple peach pie for dessert and a couple of loaves of bread, which I have already toasted for stuffing, and some other snacky type things, and then I bought beer and came home to find a nice plump fresh turkey in our fridge courtesy of Keith and Jeff.

Then, a Buffy blowout. Life, she is so hard.

Give my head a shake, if I can’t do it for me….

I can really tell I’m upset about no more NCIS – I found myself going to fanfic sites this morning.  And… backing away slowly.  Do I really – I mean really – want to read Gibbs-on-DiNozzo slashfic?  It is to heave.  Gibbs/Abby?  Tempting, but no.  On the other hand, Salmon Guy returned my S1 Deadwood box, so I could go back to Deadwood if I wanted to.

My nose has stopped running and now I’m coughing.  A dry, hacking cough.  The next week will be joyous; I remember thinking about a month ago that it had been bloody ages since I was really sick with something.  Note to back:  Please keep improving somewhat.  I’m experiencing less pain, although I nearly went ass over teakettle down the stairs at Production Way Station yesterday morning when my leg partly buckled, so I guess I need to work on some muscle strength.  Patricia recommends running in water. Anyway, I thought “all those kids will break my fall’ – the station is jammed at that time of day – but you KNOW it never works out like that in real life – the stuff you don’t break bruises to the bone, and my back already hurts, and I don’t do pain well.  I’ve learned my lesson; I have to go down the stairs with my hand floating a couple of inches above the handrail, just in case.  The one day I thought I could go down the stairs in the middle I learned that my earlier caution was entirely justified.  Then I think about my grandmother, and I figure it’s time for me to shaddap.

Tonight, Sloppy Joes, if I can remember to ask my bro to get nice, structurally sound buns for dinner, and spaghetti if not.  Can you believe it? Katie came through and the macaroni is all gone AND she ate dinner.  Honestly cooking to make leftovers around here is hazardous. We either get bored of it or it vanishes into Katie’s piehole before we even have a chance to get bored of it.

I light a candle for Tom, who’s back in hospital.

I light a candle for Jeff, for being understanding.

Ow ow ow part 435

Get your war on has something to say about making rape victims pay for their own rape kits.  Jeff sent me this.

Speaking as somebody who accompanied a woman for a post rape exam, I say right the **** on.  I personally have never been raped.  That’s luck and smarts, but mostly luck.  (Note – the rape victim commented afterwards that the rape exam was in some ways harsher than the rape.  I was horrified.  Her response was, “I was drunk when I was assaulted, and I was sober for the exam.”)

I think I have to take a walk now….

Off to the back doctor this afternoon

My life has basically become a very unpleasant place, and my sleep is getting worse and worse, so off I go.

Cousin Gerald is now a grampa times two. Hurrah! More deets as I get them.

Youtube Bingo last night was great… Jeff and I learned about Jon Lajoie. If you already know about him, great; if you don’t, well, let’s just say his ability to keep a straight face while singing lines that make you spew your beer in all directions (one of us, I won’t say who, actually did have a beercident) makes him an instant classic. Not safe for grandparents, sorry. Or anybody with pretensions to taste and decorum. Not.

Knew it

I am currently typing sideways so I can see the screen due to a migraine, but I’m going to go jump in the tub with some Epsom salts and just take it easy this morning.  I had a feeling that my aura of impending doom was just my brain chemistry and not anything external.

Today I will do laundry and work some more on Buy me a Beer and Happy Feet, which I am grimly determined to learn how to play, despite the fact it has forty bazillion chords and the version I have was kitted out for banjo, not mandolin (hint, hint). I can has F9? Cm? A flat minor 7th?  urgh.  Screen is filling up with a multicoloured flashing rainbow dragon.  Time to go run that bath and think happy, happy thoughts, like maybe Katie or Keith will come over today.

Migraine, Psychic

I’m kinda aiming sideways at the screen, since I can’t see all of it. Before I sign off for the day, though, I thought I’d mention something that happened on Sunday. As I walked down Duranleau, I saw the sign for the psychic, and had an overpowering urge to go in. This DESPITE having seen the Bullsh*t episode about psychics (it’s a show by magician debunker atheist darlings Penn & Teller). I paused on the landing for five minutes, while the urge to go up got stronger and stronger. So, hoping like hell nobody from work would see me, I gingerly climb the stairs, where a pleasant looking woman tells me “Sorry, we’re closed.”

Guess she didn’t see that coming. I was giggling to myself as I went down the stairs.

Blah

Everybody I know is either sick, sickening with something, or just plain sickening.  And I don’t feel so well myself.

Got hold of Peggy last night and she’s in for the Hilario Duran trio.  w00t.  Also I’m feeding her and Tom on Friday the 13th.  Scary stuff.

I think I need to clean the barbecue/Stanley Cup

It was rather flame-y yesterday.

Right now, I have two things to look forward to; Dandy Warhols at the Vogue (yes yes yes please and thank you Doug!) and Hilario Duran and Roberto the amazing bassist less than a week after that.   (Yes Please and thank you Katie K!).

I have now gone to bed early 3 days running and I have either kicked the cold that is trying to land on me, I’m fighting off the brain deadening effects of the pollen count, or I’ve got sleeping sickness.

I watched the last game of the Stanley Cup last night.  My interest in hockey is lightly sketched at best, but I have to say that the Pittsburgh team skated as if they, one and all, had pianos tied to their butts, whereas Detroit looked like Mercury had kissed every one of them.  Jeff and I both screamed simultaneously with that last Pittsburgh shot on goal as the clock dived for zero – it came SO CLOSE to going in that we just shook our heads at the replay.  It was a good game, and sportsmanlike.  I found the commentary next to useless.