Category: Domestic Life

Beautiful day

I got up at 6:30 yesterday and started work on the canonical list of allegrasongs; I checked the 130 strong list of songs, removed the inadvertent duplicates that had crept in because I keep changing the song titles, I found one missing set of lyrics, added a dozen which I actually know the lyrics to but had never (oops) written down, checked the list of songs again and marked all the ones I don’t have lyrics for; was HORRIFIED to learn that I no longer have the lyrics for “But can she type?” which is an extremely 70’s sitcom theme-styled song about looking for a job in Toronto in the early 80’s. The tune I still have, it’s a swooping cheerful rollicking thing.

As best I can remember:

The customer is always right

and so whenever possible

I try to be the customer

But lately I’ve been looking for a job

and it aint easy

Can’t say how much I wish it were!

But can she type, but can she type?

Watch the paper and the fingers fly

the fingers fly….

Pound the pavement knock on doors

it doesn’t matter metaphors

it doesn’t matter what you choose

They all want to pay you this

and you want to make that

Whatever happens you will lose.

and then in an annoying talking blues style…

they give me tests… on a keyboard dinosaur…. date of manufacture – 1964! Christ, this thing is almost as old as me….

and then I’m missing a verse. Candidly, I suck!  But I just copied what I typed into the data base, so, go me.

Then I remembered a huge chunk of a song that when Paul criticized me about it (he gave me a 10 minute lecture on how I should not write about such disgusting subjects, a view he no longer holds and has expressed contrition for) I put the song down.  What is my problem? (ed.  You think you have only one???)  I respond to criticism much as JRR Tolkien – I either ignore it in its entirety or abandon what I was working on, which in a nutshell is why I’ve never made a nickel from my work.  It’s hardly Paul’s fault if I don’t have an adult reaction to comments. Anyway, angry that I had lost the first verse, I wrote another one, which, I am convinced, is better, or at least has a slick internal rhyme.  Thank you Flying Spaghetti Monster in my brain.

Then, after I whined that I was on a creative roll and didn’t feel like cooking dinner, as I had promised to do, the kids and Paul showed up with Chinese food and we stuffed ourselves, and then Paul and I had the untrammelled delight of watching Katie fall asleep on the sofa WITH A BOOK IN HER HAND.  TV does it again.  Katie watched True Blood and loved it (June, 2009, there will be more!) and then I bought her the first book and she went nuts and has since acquired the rest of the series, some bought by her G’ma (that is mOm’s ‘thug’ name, so’s you know) (I am the Notorious M.O.M.) and some by Dax, who doesn’t need a thug name but has softened my prickly heart by buying my girl books.  I sent a cinnamon bun home with him yesterday for his roommate, just to show that I’m not a hater… and one for him, too.  They are the bestest cinnamon bunses ever, as I melted half a 70% Purdy’s bar into the goo, and I’m saving some for Jeff when he gets home from Victoria this evening because he will not want to miss them.  As promised Robof9 will be getting one today.

Then Paul and I went for a walk, the weather FINALLY having cleaned up and then he went to work and the kids hung around until after I went to bed.  Margot didn’t sleep with me last night, sad face.

Now, to fly out to the living room and clean up the ungodly mess of cables and musical instruments I left like a booby trap, a quick shower, and off to my shiny place of employment.  I had a great day yesterday, and I got really really close to getting something crossed off my list.  Excelsior!!

Domestic news

Jeff and I have had to come to the painful conclusion that we are not suited to be long term roommates.  I wouldn’t hand this year back for any money, as I’ve mostly had a really good time and seen a pile of wonderful movies and learned a great deal, but we’re kind of headed in two different directions and there’s no denying that I am noisy and ebullient and sociable and scattered by comparison with my brother.  No end date is set yet for our joint household and there’s all kinds of tactical and logistical stuff to deal with, but please be assured that this is a civil situation and we are continuing to look out for each other’s interests as we get closer to moving day.  As neither of us can support this place alone we’ll both be moving out.  It’s a great apartment with fabulous neighbours – anybody who’s interested in it should let me know….

How’s that again?

Last night when I got home from work there was the same picture I’d left on the screen from the morning – it’s from a series of pictures Cousin Gerald sent me.  It’s of the underside of a dock in the wintertime. Margot walked across the computer keyboard and – I’ve not the faintest notion how – suddenly there was a picture of a person holding up a sign saying “Most of the things you worry about never happen.”  Bizarre.  Then she stood on the brightness key until my screen disappeared, which is a much less entertaining and more cat like thing to do.  Took me ages to figure out what had happened. All of these miracles would not occur if I just closed the darned thing up.

I am reading my grampa’s stories.  I am now up to the point where his family could have taken the Titanic across the ocean but left a couple of days earlier that it did.  One of his near relatives was so famous as a bookseller and antiquarian in England that a letter from America with his name, occupation and country on it – and NO other details – was delivered to him. I find it entertaining that anybody who really wanted to find me could do it in two steps on the internet, but the Post Office would be scunnered if somebody sent me a letter with my name, occupation and country on it. Mind you there was delivery twice a day in England then, and a little more enterprise among the employees.

He mentions another person from his childhood who noticed that the Greenwich Mean Time was off by two seconds one day and reported it by telegram.  He was right, and they said so.

My grampa worked in the Cadbury chocolate factory when he was a boy.

Eddie is eating and going outside again, so he has recovered somewhat from the cold Jeff gave him.  Mistress Margot is showing signs of wanting to go out.  Sigh.

Kitty (and people)

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.

Eddie is expressing dismay

As soon as Eddie saw Miss Margot, he barfed.  I mean, barfed.  It’s emotional barfing in a cat.  As Miss Margot expresses Her Divine Will upon him, he barfs less and less.  He’s now in the meowing piteously stage, all about the interloper who is living in the food dish, occupying the kitchen, wandering at will through the rest of the house (although she has stayed out of two of the older cats’ strongholds), moving swiftly towards the “I will walk by the interloper with my tailing casually waving from side to side’ stage.  Miss Margot’s attitude is definitely, “We can all get along if you just loosen up a bit,” this will probably result in play.

Holy $hit she just climbed onto my mandolin, played a few notes and then wandered back to see me.  Did I mention she’s a tortie?  She does the crazy tortie stuff as well as having her visiting dignitary side.  She will have to be fixed, a prospect that causes me no sadness.  Her entrance into the world was by C-section. Oh, great, now she’s walking up and down on the keyboards. Is she trying to tell me something?   The first time I played something for her on the mandolin she flopped on the bed and attentively watched.  It was like having a cat who was somehow channeling Winston Churchill watching your performance.  Unlike other cats, she does not flee the room when I play.  The breeder mentioned that she loves music but I didn’t figure that could possibly be right.  I’ve never met a cat who showed anything but disinterest in music.

Earlier she was killing the kitchen rugs for the nth time when she made this total ninjaclowncat move and whacked the drawer on the oven with both back feet simultaneously and quite hard, making a beautiful hang drum ringing tone which she immediately popped up to investigate.  Popping up describes her method of appearing on furniture and righting herself when she wants to get mobile from any of her legion of contortionate positions. Twice now she’s climbed my knees, put her face over the top of the laptop and then leaned her two front paws over as well, presenting a LOLcat pic of some charm.

After more rug killing activities, she’s back up on the bed, investigating things.  Liveblogging a new kitten is so much fun.

If somebody had told me when I was thirty that I’d ever pay for a Persian, I would have laughed no end.

busy morning

Off to the clinic for an early appointment, (Jeff gave me a lift) and then I went completely berserk.  Wandered into a cooking supply place, got a bunch of kitchen gadgets I actually needed, and a bunch I don’t but had to have.  Bought a new handbag (basically a black shopping bag with zippers, just barely big enough to hold my laptop).  Bought two stems of white freesia.  Walked from Cambie and Broadway to Kingsway and Broadway.  On the way poked my head into the Luddite’s place of work and got off the perfect line… the Luddite’s boss said, “For me?” when he saw the flowers and I just grinned and said, “No, for him!”  which amused the Luddite no end. He’s much the same as always, except more so.  Of course he wouldn’t take the flowers from me so I got to be a smart ass to his boss AND keep the flowers.  Then I wandered into a mattress store and after telling the guy to wake me in an hour after finding the perfect mattress, purchased two single mattresses with covers, to be delivered next Saturday. That’s so Keith has a proper bed when he sleeps over.  Also, as much as I like the Fjord Queen bed it’s too damned big for my little bedroom, so I’m going to go back to sleeping on the floor.  I have a week to reorganize things so when the mattresses show up I have places to put them.  With that done I walked to the next bus stop and went home, many hundreds of dollars poorer.   But I can julienne things, and I have proper garlic technology, and I found out where to buy a cast iron grill for the oven, and I got two cute little egg poachers and promptly used them to make our lunch (Jeff declared himself contented), and I can now properly clean tea and coffeepots, and I got to listen to the chef in the back (there are cooking classes at the back of the store) shriek and giggle in a most entertaining way. I also got to listen to an openly gay man tell the gal at the counter that the store was worse than crack, and I was in no position to debate the point….

Now:

I assault the bathroom and remove scum and squick;

I do some on line banking to backstop my purchases;

I run some laundry;

I do some mending;

I fix my little green hat so it sits on my head properly;

I review the list of things to do that I made while waiting for the very sweet woman who saw me at a clinic (never get two perimenopausal women in the same room discussing the joys thereof, it’s wonderful for us but murder on the appointment schedule).

It has to be spring.  I got my mo back.

nothing to say

so I’ll just blather.

Checked the Vancouver open mic scene.  There’s nothing I want to do until the 18th of March… I put it on the calendar.

Jeff’s up doing garbage, it being that time of week again.

Watched The Bank Job last night. I quite liked Jason Statham as a venal everyman forced to think fast.

I am going to try to get to work early this morning, the weather was supremely uncooperative yeesterday.  I left 20 minutes early and got there 2o minutes late.  I hope the person who made the decision to put the office at the top of that bloody hill gets a sound caning at some point.

We’re in the Phony War part of the depression.  Nobody but the homeless believes it’s happening.  You can still get sushi and big screen tvs.  China’s governors are proclaiming 8 percent growth this year.  I cannot believe, after closing 65000 factories, that anybody in China or out of it could spout such nonsense.  Global and domestic demand has plummeted.  There are millions of unemployed who left the cities to go back home so as to at least be able to mooch food off their families.  They sit around smoking and gambling and getting into trouble, and this is going to help domestic tranquillity how?

Katie has a plan to move out of her dad’s place and in with two girlfriends.  I know for a certainty this is not going to end well, and I can’t do or say a damned thing about it.  She can’t really move until she has a job, and I have tried to help her with that, including a snotty voicemail to change her equally snotty voicemail message.  If I was an employer and I heard that message I’d slam the phone down and say ‘next’!

Darwin is the cutest baby I didn’t give birth to, but I’m sure he’ll lose that crown when Tanya’s tamaiti is born.

I left Grampa’s stories in Paul’s car, and now he and Keith are reading them.  Bwa ha ha!  My evil plan is working.  That would be the plan where I do things by accident and things turn out well anyway.

I can’t think of anything else and I should shower and caffeinate and swap laundry and depart.

Why I blog

Take that, people who say it’s nothin’ but narcissism.

Also, I have a terrible memory and a blog helps me remember when things happened.

Also, Katie has used my blog to help her remember when distressing and horrific things, as reported by me, happened.

Yesterday Paul and I drove up-island to visit his cousin Ruth in Nanaimo.  She’s living on an acre of land and she got it for a steal of a price, and she and her fisherman spouse are living very happily.  She has to walk fifteen minutes to get her mail, and another ten to get her eggs, but she’s a five minute drive from a yoga studio and she has her own well, so there.

She made us a fabulously warm welcome, and soon we were deep in talk about cob houses and straw bale houses and the Cuban 5 and the amazing local arts and politics scene, and after Paul re-strung her guitar I said I’m getting my mandolin, and she hauled out her Indian drums (sounds like tablas but they weren’t) and we had a fabulous 90 minutes of jamming.  I kept nervously checking the Malahat webcam.  Long about 4 we decided to head back.

And it snowed.  Paul and I were bemoaning our lack of cameras, because the snow slid down the road signs and just hung there, and some of the visual effects were quite funny.  The snow was worse in Victoria than up the Malahat, go figure.

Paul went off to hang with Dr Filk for the evening (more music, somewhere, and a meal in there too) and I grabbed some Mayan Chocolate Haagen Dazs and a small round of Brie (my god, they fell on it like animals…. well behaved, queuing animals) and Darwin had a noisy bath and went to bed and we ate pizza and I started reading The Caryatids by Bruce Sterling and at 7:30 I collapsed.  See what a day without coffee can do to me?  Also I did all the driving, since Paul has come to the realization that he can tolerate my tailgating and random lane changes way better than vice versa.  A couple of hours in the car also allowed us the opportunity for an airing of the grievances (or was more usually the case, the bragging of the amazingness) re the kids. Sometimes it’s good to have a chance to bash away at this stuff so we can present a united front when the next issue comes up….

Woke up at 4, edited the sound files I recorded yesterday of Darwin’s charming vocalizations, finished the Caryatids (three stars but I still want to know where the food of the future will be coming from), showered, and now I’m looking forward to a meal at my Granny’s place of residence and a nice ride home on the ferry, probably late in the afternoon.  And I can haz new quilt, which is actually a quilt that my mum made when I was tiny, so I am extremely happy about my ‘haul’.  Oh, also my grampa’s memory book (two thick tomes) has been delivered to me in duplicate for Jeff.

So far an AWESOME weekend, and watching Katie motor her way – reading, my god, she’s reading! – through the Sookie Stackhouse books is making me very very happy.

Singing makes me happy and so does Major Kusanagi

So Keith and Paul picked me up from work last night (Keith was driving) and we went back to their place and at pork chomps and salad and oyster mushrooms.  Then Paul and I sang and played for ages.  Honestly, we should put together a set list and then we wouldn’t have those long headscratching moments when we think “What will we sing next?”

Around nine I went home and found Jeff watching Ghost in the Shell Innocence.  Man, in HD on a big screen that movie is drenchingly beautiful.

Relief at last

I lost my bank card about three weeks ago but only called the bank to replace it a week ago, and it turned up yesterday.  Without a bank card I couldn’t pay bills on line which was bad, or spend much money, which was good.  I think I will start leaving it at home unless I have a planned cash expenditure that day.  I run a tab at the cafeteria at work and only pay it off twice a month.

I light a candle for Zari at work; her mum died back in Iran and she couldn’t go to the funeral, and she’s been feeling really blue ever since.  Then she said something that made me really sad; she said that even with everything that is so bad about back home, she’d be retired by now if she lived in Iran.  I will be working until I am sixty-five, so I know how she feels…

After sober consideration, Jeff responded to the twit next door who told him in a note on his windshield to quit parking in his space.  There is no assigned parking on this street.  To think I cut a hole in the snowbank so the neighbour could have access to his car, during the last snowstorm!  To think he has SIX PLACES TO PARK, two in his garage, two in his paved over yard, and two in front of his house!  Anyway, Jeff’s letter was a masterpiece; too bad it won’t help do anything except vent Jeff’s spleen.

I forgot to mention that when I left Mike’s place on Monday night a skunk greeted me.  I walked out into the road and said what I always say when I get too close to a critter; “Evening, brother skunk,” as I have heard that if you project civility animals are less likely to attack you.  Skunks sure have an odd gait.

Every night at 5:45, about three to four thousand crows gather around the Keg on Willingdon.  The sky is sometimes black with them.  I am going to try to get pictures tonight.

I hope everybody has a simply splendid day, and a nice weekend.

Sleep and food and Saturday links

Casting the witch in the Wizard of Oz.
 I heart Margaret Hamilton.

This is just freaky, but I’m only posting it because of the Firefly reference.

I was really suspicious of the do not call registry right from the beginning, mostly because after the gun registry debacle I didn’t think the Canadian government could organize something conspicuous in a camouflage store.  Now we learn, surprise! bafflement! that the government is SELLING the list at a nominal price to whoever will pay for it. Alas, Ottawa.

In about 2 hours I’ll be jumping on the transit for my coffee date.  Instead of swithering, I’m sorting laundry, acting as cat doorwoman, paying bills, cooking AWESOME split pea with ham soup, making breakfast for me and Jeff and answering emails.  I had a wonderful night of sleep – slept maybe 1 1/2 hours longer than normal.  I actually feel good.

Perhaps it has something to do with the departmental meeting with the new Ops great grandboss at work.  Like Holy Paradigms Batman.  I was buzzing like a thwacked beehive and dancing up and down like a little kid when I got home last night (met up with Keith at Brentwood station and the little bugger did a ninja on me, sneaking up behind me in the bus line up) because I was so happy with the meeting.

There are four priorities in the new configuration of the company.  Safety, Quality, Customer Service and Financial Results.  So I recited them to the dude to indicate that I’d stayed conscious during one of the town halls, and then I asked him to give me the matching 4 mantras of corporate culture.  In a very TED lecture kinda way, he said, “Respect, Metrics, Voice of the Customer and We’re Only in One Business, and that’s the Only Business that We’re In” (not phrased like that and over a much longer period of time) and gave examples to support it.  The previous group he’d been with had just sat and stared at him.  Patricia and I peppered him with questions until he told us (respectfully) to let the men get a word in edgewise (and just think about the state of the world that this would be the case… I love the 21st century).  Then I insulted his wife’s taste in sweaters (yes, I know, and I am going to be punished, I’m sure) and we went home.  It was supposed to be a half hour meeting and it took nearly two hours and the time FLEW BY.  My hopes and fears for the future remain the same, but my hopes definitely have my fears in a hammerlock.

I’ve been conversing with Deb about her daughter Jenn and her Pitbull rescue organization.  Here’s the link. Unfortunately it’s not possible to get a tax receipt for Canadian donors but I urge my American readers to make a donation if it meets their criteria for a worthy charity.

And tomorrow, time for a baptism.  Me happy.

Feetsball & biscotti

Normally I don’t watch, and I don’t care.  But the Eagles Cardinals game yesterday was awesome, and I think I’m in love with Larry Fitzgerald.  His play in the first half was enough to make watching football seem like a rational activity.  Then the Steelers won, but holy crap, it wasn’t nearly as fun a game and the injuries were pretty much continuous.

On another subject…Gosh, I miss all the fun. I have to wonder if ScaryClown had something to do with it.  And all the people who read this blog who’ve quit drinking are probably happy to be reminded of how stupid it all was.

With all the paper and crap put away, the acoustics in my room have changed.  It is very odd.

I am sad to report that my second zombie heart was a miserable failure.  It went into the oven okay, but sagged terribly and now looks…. Well, I’ll finish it anyway and post a pic, but  next time I’ll make the base bigger.  Let’s just say it’s a differently abled zombie heart.  We went to Michael’s and got more sculpey and paint and clayworking tools.  Jeff declared himself allergic to the Muzak, and I told him I was tempted to tell him he wasn’t the target audience (it was screechy girl stuff).  I also wanted to quote Katie K about the “all Jann Arden all the time” station here in Vancouver.  As in, she doesn’t like it.

Biscotti got cooked.

I also made spaghetti and meat balls – Keith even ate some. It was good to see him.

Otherwise I didn’t do much yesterday but I feel refreshed and rested… back to work!

Sundry and Various

Last night when I was coming home I realized I wanted retail therapy, so I got Robaxicet, a teach yourself to read music book (which actually taught me something I had not understood before in the first five minutes, so that was useful), a miniature Gumby and Pokey set for Jeff, Ecuadorian chocolate, Cutthroat beer & a proper set of headphones for work including volume control.  Now of course I realize that I’m an idiot and I just should have gone straight home, so I would have avoided a broken down bus and…

ick….

wait for it….

auditions for Canada’s Next Top Model in Brentwood Mall – when the batteries in my camera had just quit.  Oh, and my cell phone batteries quit in tandem, so I couldn’t fire off an irritated text message to Jeff. I wanted to take a picture of the swarm of identical, malnourished, streak haired, pointy faced hopefuls, but instead I got an eyeful of leering men and resigned looking parents.  Rechargeable NiMh batteries do not cut it for this application.

I am just about finished my laundry, finally, and will be moving on to other interesting events today, like trying to sweet talk Jeff into accompanying me on a shopping expedition.  Yes, I know, but I want two things you can’t get nearby or easily, being my favourite kind of soap (French, honeysuckle scented) and more Sculpey so Katie can finish her chess set. And more paint.  I think I need blue, clear coat, and maybe a bronze or silver metallic.  And a fatter brush so I can really slop it on.  ScaryClown says he paints everything he does flat black and then paints overtop of that.  I will defer to the master on that one. He has severely restricted his alcohol intake, but frankly, he doesn’t look happier. And he’s bringing his lunches these days. So has the Dalai Jarmo, but that’s traditional for Finnfolk in early January, and he looks very happy these days and he’s going to be sitting close but not too close to me in the new regime.  PS note to self I need one of those who the **** is behind me mirrors for work.

Katie, bless her, did not actually look for work yesterday, rrr.  But Keith fitted his first set of contact lenses (perfectly, so he says) the day before yesterday so it appears that continuing to support his efforts to get edumacated is wise.

Jim and Jan are here this weekend and I can’t wait to see them.  They are so wonderful.  I wish I could just buy a city block and move everybody I love here. Except that many of them, like a kitty cat struggling to escape, would not be happy about living in Vancouver.  It’s a nice place to visit, etc.  And when I get a house I want laundry on the same level as my bedroom.  I got that when I was living in the Cornerstone building and gosh darn, I want that again, although that might have something to do with how steep the basement stairs are.  I nearly fell down them this week and it was scary as hell, because Jeff had his headphones on and I might have had a very poor time of it.

Biscotti.  Again.  I will be shipping it off to people by mail.

Valentine cards.  Since I am sending work valentines to Barcelona, California, Indiana and Washington, I have to start early this year.  There are 150 people on the list!!! I have created a monster, yet again.

I know somebody personally who is going to the inauguration, and I will be able to hear about it later this month.  Me happy.

v. nice weekend

Dinner for Tom’s birthday last night was glorious; it was so good to see everybody and share a meal.  I must really try to be more hospitable myself – it’s good to feed people.

I wrote the letter to the Israeli embassador and forwarded it to a couple of people for comments and edits, and will post once it’s back from them.  Me not happy about Gaza.

I watched, in its entirety (I couldn’t sleep, woke up at 2, so it’s good I went to bed so early!) a documentary about demographic winter. It was paid for by a bunch of fundies, but I have learned that one should study one’s enemies.  I am still processing what I learned and may share my thoughts later.

Ha, I didn’t do laundry.  Tonight I must do laundry or it’s going to be harsh strong bad at work…

I did my first working from home this weekend.

I did a lot of cooking.

I saw Keith and Kate, and watched feetsball with Jeff a bit.

And, of course, Sculpey.  I feel rested and refreshed and ready for work.