It’s only 9:30 and Jeff and I have already cooked and eaten breakfast and done a small shop; I also put on a batch of biscotti for Tom’s birthday party tomorrow. Continue reading Busy weekend planned
Category: Domestic Life
What a day!
Awake at 5:20 am, poked around the net for a while, then got up and cleaned some pots and next thing I knew I was late for the bus. All quite normal. Late for work because both the 145 bus and the Skytrain were delayed, who knows why. At least I didn’t kill myself by falling down that slope – I’ve posted pictures of it, just imagine it covered with a glossy slick of compressed slush.
At 9 the town hall meeting with our new squid overlords. THEY CAN HAS SWAG!!! They gave out jackets, and mine is very nice and will probably fit me better in a year. But I like it. The meeting was full of my coworkers conspicuously signalling to me to get off my ass and ask the new squid overlords some pointy questions like I used to do, but I glued said same ass to my chair. Besides, I was wearing my “Earth to the Dandy Warhols” t-shirt and I just didn’t look corporate enough.
At work today, Mike McG gamely attempted over three meetings (Patricia was also there) to a) jam Ohm’s law into my tiny pea brain; b) jam info about PV string sizing into my tiny pea brain and c) get my advice/input/loud and unfeigned praise on a totally HAWT Salesforce customization. This will mean nothing to most of you but when I think of how much time and keystrokes that man plans to save the company I tremble in my granny panties, lemme tell you…
At lunch, Jeff the Queasy (an easily grossed out cowirker) said, “What the hell was with 206, somebody drew Ohm’s law all over the whiteboard?” and Patricia and I are thinking, “Hm, should we tell him?”
Anyway, I didn’t work much because I was in meetings or lunching for like 5 hours. It was like being an executive, and Tanya took the worst call of the day, honestly, the customer was a jerk to her, and then of course was nice as pie to me.
OH MY STARS. I have to tell this story, even if it gets me fired. The marketing department, whom I have been convinced wants to either kill me or slap me into an insane asylum for at least a decade now, put my name on a document….. associated with a phone number which comes to my desk …. and a toll free number that, alas, was one digit out from being correct. Care to guess what my name was associated with? A front for a phone sex line. I can die happy now. All my Dilbert dreams/nightmares have come true. By all the gods I don’t believe in, this story is absolutely true and I can call witnesses. And besides, the marketing department has already fixed it.
Our new HR overlord is from Suth Cahlina, and she said You All twice during the town hall. Not Y’all, that’s trashy, but You All, that’s cute.
Much thanks to Sandy P for the hilarious email about the mighty huntin’ dogs she has, I laughed like a drain.
Then a call from Paul – I’d been expecting to take the bus to his place preparatory for a swim, but he decided to pick me up, and then when I got there it was me, Keith, Kate, Paul and Daxus, and Dan T. dropped by for some soup, and I arranged to spend most of Saturday with Katie, and she plucked my eyebrows (they were raggedy). Katie and Daxus were playing chess when I arrived – Daxus was shellacking Katie. I saw the board and went, Concede, you fool! but they played it out. After dinner Keith and Paul and I went to the pool and swam and soaked, and then Paul drove me home. I drove home, but it’s Paul’s car. You know what I mean.
It was so good to see everybody. Dan T. said, “I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamed that I ate somebody’s dog, and it tasted like a pear, but I didn’t really like it all that much so I had two bites and threw it away, and then the owners were saying, “Where’s Fluffy?” I cried laughing, he was so matter-of-fact about it. I light a candle for his dad, who died recently. I only met him the once, when I gave a homily at the Comox Valley Fellowship, but I was very impressed with him indeed. He will be missed.
Exercise and randomness for the new year.
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 awoke to the melodious sound…
of a raccoon the size of a Shetland Pony rummaging through a trashbag on the back deck. Jeff is now dealing with it.
After the snow the thaw
So around six a.m. I commenced to making waffles, and around seven we moseyed on down to the Stuporstore. Our departure was delayed by an accumulation on the car of glutinous snow. The snow adhered to a depth of two inches (5 cm) all over the roof surface and covered the bottom half of the front windscreen. Trying to sweep it off was like trying to move concrete. Pounding it with your fist was pointless – this was a job for tools. I went back into the house and procured one sturdy kitchen spoon and two plastic spatulas to chip the dense and crispy ice off the windscreen. Bash, Bash. Very satisfying. I took some of the rime off with a credit card. The car had been warming up for a number of minutes while Jeff adjusted the level of the snow so he could actually get out of the parking space. After enough shoveling for Jeff to have gotten quite warm, we were ready to go. Jeff rolled down his window about halfway, and about two seconds after he started heaving the car out of that abbreviated snowbank, his side of the car filled with footlong chunks of dense and abrasive snow, which had all merrily slid off the now-warm roof – and then continued to slide in, although not in quite so much quantity. It was like being on a movie set; the sun shone through the ice while it was happening. I began to suspect Jeff of setting it up for my entertainment, but on the other hand I didn’t think it wise to laugh. After a brief and agonizing pause (all streets are one way now, since they are only one lane, so you’re constantly butting heads with people trying to go the other way, and Jesus God! Mary, St. Patrick and St. Jude! what IS IT with Vancouver drivers and their signally failing to signal habit? Must I even call them drivers, before the bones of all the saints?) Jeff had hucked as much of the snow overboard as possible and again we were on our way.
Earlier that day, in a rare show of weakness, I admitted to my brother that I had been running away with his plastic containers and eating them. He owned that this was indeed a possible explanation for their continuing disappearances. I, blushing furiously, stated that I thought eating them would somehow be less shameful than losing them, which was, indeed, what I had been doing with them. He had had his suspicions. The leftovers departed the house, and neither they nor their containers ever returned. The world’s oldest, and saddest, story, don’t you think?
Eddie sleeps on my bed a good portion of every day.
Somewhere in there we watched Keira Knightley in Domino. It’s an interesting movie that bites off much more than it can chew, but gets by on lightly done comic book charm. It is a movie, in my opinion, of forgivable faults. When did Christopher Walken get the “I must appear in every Hollywood movie in a substantial bit part?” contract? Damn!
I know I am a traitor to my kindred, but I prefer Keira Knightley as Lizzie Bennett to any others I have seen. As Domino she’s all haircut and bravado, not her best role.
I have an appointment with some pork chops. I intend to ingest broccoli, with a smidge of dressing. I see a salad, embellished with those new grape tomatoes that taste so good. But all these things will not be unless I arise and make them to happen, and I should chop almonds for biscotti. That is if anybody wants some.
Dreams & food & rellies
I stopped writing about my dreams in my blog because I read it was one of the worst and most self indulgent things you can write about. So when I tell you that last night I dreamed that my laptop caught fire, filk went mainstream (songbooks in chain bookstores?) and I met a True Blood cast member getting a humanitarian award for bloodrelated research, be assured it was an amazing experience.
Snow has turned to drizzle.
Biscotti – quite good biscotti – has been made. Today I’ll make and freeze turkey à la king.
The back deck appears intact.
My distaste for alcohol continues.
The carrot salad Paul sent me home with in the magic bag of leftovers is so good I got up and had it for a midnight snack. This is while there was Brie in the fridge, mind you, just to give you some basis for comparison.
Speaking of leftovers I think I’ll nuke up the leftover sweet potato with Brie on top. I’m so suggestible.
Too Long; Didn’t Read
One of the many useful internet acronyms is TL;DR. That’s when your truncated attention span decides to step out for a soda.
Forgiveness
As we all know, forgiveness is easy as pie, and nobody ever has a hard time with it.
Yeah, right. Continue reading Forgiveness
At Tammy’s
Working backwards, I am ‘staying above the fray’ as Tammy and the exterminator battle with termites (this part of Toronto has them, and what can you do, eh?), I ate her goat cheese and garden picked oregano omelette (and it was nommy) with fruit and nut bread; I slept great, and in fact about two hours longer than I normally do; we had a very pleasant evening (she bought me Tuborg, the saintly creature, as she never has beer in the house); we figured out where I’ll be spending at least part of my restaurant money in Paris; I arranged to see Dave JD at Jump today around supper time (but nobody else in Toronto, I’ll make a special trip back for that) while Tammy’s at choir practice; I had a pleasant trip by transit from the airport (this being possible because I got to sit the whole way even though it was rush hour when I arrived) and then Tammy picked me up at Pape Station; I had a very pleasant flight because at the last minute I changed my seat selection from 34 row to 44 row (767-200, but Paul probably already knew that) so I had nobody sitting next to me fore. aft, port and starboard and I was close to an aisle and washroom AND I’d never been on an aircraft with functioning video-on-demand in the cheap seats, so I was actually SURPRISED when they called ‘we are starting our descent’; I got my money back from the WORST breakfast sandwich evar and by way of apology the server brought me a free bottle of water; Jeff very kindly dropped me off at the airport; I got a reasonable night’s sleep the night before.
Anyway, I’ll only be going near a computer or screen in the most minimal way for this time off, as it’s obvious my internet addiction is hijacking what’s left of my life, so if you don’t mind I’m off to abuse Pentium and George, two of the nicest and most sucky middle aged cats I’ve ever met, both of whom think I’m kinda keen. George slept on my feet last night and emitted never a peep. Happy sigh! Also, and this if for Keith, Tammy of Surpassing Excellence has Alan Moore’s Lost Girls in hardcover… can such things be? Who needs the internet? PS it’s snowing…. that desultory November snow….
Kids were here
It was so lovely to have both of them here. We watched S2E1 of Deadwood (A Lie Agreed Upon) during which we giggled and cracked jokes and invented drinking games involving the swearing. I bought us all Swiss Chalet. Katie did her homework. For those of you out quietly worrying in TelevisionLand, Brandin (mentioned earlier) is a nice boy with not a great deal of education and a lot of crazy relatives, but he doesn’t smoke tobacco and he likes Katie fine. And happy birthday, Katie, here’s a toast to you continuing to plug along when you really don’t feel like it.
Dr. Filk is in da house
While Jeff and I were cleaning up Eddie barf at 4:30 this morning (happy barfday to me!) Jeff said, quietly, “There is a large hairy naked man sleeping in the livingroom!” This is by way of being a family meme and is in no way a complaint.
A long time ago I wrote a poem for my mOm in which she is alleged to have said things like “Loki, Wizardry won’t boot!” and “Who is sleeping in the livingroom?”
The downstairs neighbour just back from work and is trying to sneak around and get a snack and be quiet. We should just tell em not to worry about it… what with one thing and another we always seem to be awake by now.
Now, back to bed.
Master Jeff is in da house
Eddie and Gizmo celebrated his return by running up and down the hallway in an attempt to mimic the percussive qualities of army boots on wooden floors.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop with the ghetto slang. I know there are many things that are seriously wrong with me…that seems to be pretty minor, all things considered.
That goshdarned full moon, which was fan-dancing with the clouds when I was standing on the ‘train platform last night! I went to Brentwood Mall under its malign influence and bought matching earrings, bag, shoes and hairband (?!) and then bought, yeesh, makeup and got taught, in a very luxurious and unhurried way, how to apply it. I’d say something about lipstick on a pig at this point, but I suspect nautilus3 is rather sensitive on that subject, for two reasons; one, the pig is her totem animal and she’s not one for mocking them, and two, when she was a high powered executive with 600 full time equivalents reporting to her (didn’t know that, eh, thought she was just a nice old lady, did ya?) lipstick was the only makeup she wore. I wish I’d stayed and gotten my toes done but I’ll see if I can do that tonight.
mOm and pOp told OnSpec to send me a free copy of the their mag, and for bedtime reading (I hardly ever read a book these days, such is the pull of one phosphor dot screen or another) I read halfway through it. Apart from thinking that the writing style of all the contributors remarkably similar, I really enjoyed it, and I think I will subscribe. When you pick up a mag and DON’T think at any point, why’n’earth did they publish this, that’s a good sign. I even liked the poetry, which is either a sign of necrosis of the brain or quality, you pick.
Off to a party tonight (thus the matching shoes, bag, earrings, hairband), and I will look fabulous in my outfit. I even depilated, which is either a sign of the apocalypse or that I’ll be exposing more of my surface area than is normally the case, you pick. Daughter Katie’s supposed to turn up and fix my hair, but after a lot of fussing around last night (Jeff would have been harrumphing had he been here, I was in the facility so long) I think I can do it myself if she bails. At least she’s okay. I grouse, but I worry ’bout that kid. She’s moving back in with her pop and Keith and I for one am thrilled.
Tomorrow, I go shopping at Famous Foods in the AM and then ScaryClown comes over in the PM and we’ll have a documentary fest and I think I’ll cook up some yummy food. He has to leave early (after supper) because he’s due to get up at hours ungodly on Sunday to get to the airport to fly to Providence, where he intends at some point to climb in a taxi or round up a sympathetic coworker (it’s a biz trip) and get driven out to HP Lovecraft’s grave.
This, like everything else in my mind, dovetails neatly with other family news; the parental units have commissioned a metal sculpture of one of the Old Ones. It is disguised as a cephalopod, but those in the know will be aware that it is actually (dah dah duhhn!) something otherworldly.
I am planning on taking ScaryClown to Gadget House at some point and asking my parents to adopt him as a grandson, or possibly a nephew. The idea of going on a road trip with ScaryClown alternately makes me blanch, giggle and furrow my brow.
Then, Sunday, my 50th birthday. It simply wouldn’t BE my birthday if I wasn’t importing guests, so Dr Filk has, with my warm thanks, agreed to come across the pond – Lady Miss Banjola, who will likely also attend, is requiring his presence for further practice, rehearsal, and scoffing, teasing and saying, You’re Fired repeatedly. All perfectly standard. It should be a small and convivial crewe. (Also with any luck Darwin the Alert and Lexi the Not-So-Alert-as-Darwin will attend.) I’m gonna have an acoustic bass in my living room. Let joy be unrefined! Oh, yes, there will be filk.
I just opened a card from my folks, which reads “Thank you for the special gift of being our daughter. Happy half century!” Gosh, (scuffs toes) couldn’t have done it without yuz. PS thanks for the terabyte drive pOp. Jeff and I are considering what uses to put it to…..
My list for today
Biscotti – the making of. INCLUDING videoing the process and putting it on Youtube.
Putting away my laundry, blech.
Vacuuming my room.
Finding a cenotaph (yes, in this rain) and doing what I have never done in my adult life, which is honour the Canadian dead of various foreign wars. After considering my options (thank you, Miss 604!) I’ve decided that by far the easiest to transit to is the Victory Square Cenotaph, in the shadow of which I changed into my Scientology protesting clothes, making it dovetail neatly with other aspects of my misspent life. It’ll get me out of the house, anyway.
Messing around some more with the Garage Band software. I’m now working on something that sounds like an explosion in a calliope factory.
In other news, a lot of scrap metal is radioactive, and it ends up in recycled products. Get your Geigers running!
In other news, the Phoenix Mars lander is dead. RIP little guy, you were the best of your kind!
In other news, Jeff is off to Victoria for a few days and I will be back at work tomorrow. Excelsior!
more Garage Band
I am definitely in the TOO MUCH OF EVERYTHING AND ALL AT ONCE school of music making. When it’s just me and a stringed instrument I can keep it quite moronically simple, but give me a wee bit o’ software and I turn into a complexificating loon. I go back and forth between Not Ready Yet and Karaoke at the Hellmouth with no urge to trim it down, and this is not a good thing, as they are sounding increasingly bizarre.
Hopefully today I will be able to sweet talk Jeff into visiting some of the audio places around; i have my eye on a better mike and headset, and I also need a separate headset for the Casio keys because there’s no large hole to small hole plug in adapter adapter and otherwise I have to run it through Garage Band, which is occasionally inconvenient, like now, when Jeff has to twist like a pretzel around the keyboard to feed the cats. Many thanks to Katie and Paul for keeping all the bits together – it would be useless if folks hadn’t tirelessly kept it with its ac adapter. I am about ready to give Paul the ex-marital bed back, I’m so slammed for space in my room, and go back to a single so I can at least leave all my music set up all the time. It’s either that or leave it strewn from one end of the house to the other, which is suboptimal.
On a work related note, I’m not there today. I needed some time off to reacquaint myself with my creative side. Given the right stimulus, it appears that if you perforate me, music still comes out.
I want to see if I can record any of my birthday festivities; that should be fun!
Last night I dreamed Ridley Scott was directing Brangelina in an x-rated film. Jeff looked up and said, “I’ve had the exact same dream.” Snicker. All I got to see was Ridley telling Brad to stand ‘artistically’ in a doorway. While nude.
Last night, roast beast with carrots onions and taters. This morning, BLTs. We just finished them. Yum!
a big stew of links and updates!
I won something worth $720 and I gave it to a coworker after briefly toying with the notion of selling it.
I support the United Way, which is I why I won the above noted item.
I’ve been up very early every morning since the time change.
Patricia and I brainstormed a problem at work and the results were high five worthy.
I’m shopping today for my France trip.
Haagen Dasz Mayan Chocolate ice cream is REALLY good.
I have a very long list of things to do.
Flying Spaghetti Monster made a Pastafarian out of me.
There’s a new Youtube video in my account of the little waterfall next to work.
It’s so rainy that it’s actively dangerous to walk anywhere except pavement. Wet leaves, slick grass.
It’s so rainy that the ground is exploding. What the hell is it?
I had to take shots from different angles.
These guys at least are cute and not reminiscent of inimical alien brains.
Found art in the ladies can. This one’s for daughter Katie.
Barack Obama’s family is going to adopt ‘a mutt, like me’. bwa ha ha! We’re all mutts, Uncle Rocky.
I already sent this link to Paul. Folks like this should get taken out behind the hangar and shot.
Some people study psychopaths, and I guess that’s a good thing.
I have an offer of a weeklong stay in a bungalow in Belize, and I’m seriously considering it.
Eddie and Gizmo demonstrate vertical superiority.
Doug’s contribution to the art of pumpkin carving.
Sandy P at work took this awesome pic when she was in SF.
Death by black hole and other astrophysical meditations; I especially like the notion that Apophis could have been called Bambi. A physicist explains it all for you.
I am just finishing making waffles.
We watched Objects in Space again last night. Honestly, it’s in my top five hours of tv ever. (Along with Restless, Michael Moschen’s special, the moon landing, and the episode of Band of Brothers where they parachute into Normandy).
I am messing around a lot with Garage Band.
I found the sound of a door on freesound that was so good I put in on LOOP and listened for half an hour.
My digestion is much better since I started taking acidophilus.
Keith is supposed to turn up later today.
We are very SF positive in New Westminster.
That should hold ya for a while, I guess. I’ll be off shortly to commit myself some serious retail therapy.