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Kindly tell me precisely how I’m s’posed to keep a straight face around you.

It’s St. Bean’s Day.  That accounts for much about Loki.

This morning I’d like to talk a bit about home; what it means to us and how it relates to our spiritual lives.

This morning I welcome all of you, whether new or long-standing friends of Beacon, to our church home.   We who are friends and members of Beacon have certainly had our share of anxiety about where our church home, which means so much to us, was going to be.  It puts me in mind of Luke 9:58; from the New International Version:  Jesus replied, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

Continue reading New homily on Home

Two global brand names come together to fight racism.

Somebody’s covered Eminem’s Without Me in Klingon.

It’s good but he’s not yelling enough.

Instead I made a big pile of naan, and we fished food out of the fridge, and I also made poached pears with chocolate sauce.  Now that was yummy.

The chores, undone from yesterday, now gape at me like a yawning grave.

Here’s the link.

I just cleared the door from the concert… I have only one word.  Go.  If you ever have a chance to see them, go.  Their musicianship; their cameraderie; their joy in performing; their choice of material; their glorious singing voices…..  When Lianna first opened her mouth to sing she was standing in the audience not five metres from me and I thought an angel had dropped out of heaven to sing.

Kopper, mil beijos for thinking of me, it was frikkin great.

I made waffles and strawberries for breakfast.

I have a very long list of things to do and zero desire to do any of it.

Kopper and I are off to a show in North Van tonight.  She has a clothing swap at her place today as well, which is very good of her and her housemate… it’s a community building thing.  I need to get rid of some clothes myself now that I’ve brought more into the house, but once again that would involve working.

At some point Jeff and I will step out into this dreadful rain and get some carpet and some computer stuff.  Possibly also some food.

Take a Nap (the last choon).  I put percussion in (basic 2-3 rumba rhythm).

Margot is in her teenaged years now.  She’s being very naughty and a hog for the wrong kind of attention. I’ve been playing with her as much as I can.

Go, Onion, Go.

I had another fabulous day of lovely eats, hanging around Queen St with Catherine and looking at cool shops, picking up another luggage bag, hanging out with Tammy and eating sweetbreads at the Auld Spot on the Danforth, and so to bed.

I am trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my last day in town.

The vines and the tree growth are so lush in Catherine and Colin’s back yard that they don’t have to hang curtains in the bed room.  It’s lovely waking up with the filtered green light.

I miss my guitar.  I miss my bro.  I miss my kitty.

Jeff reports Margot is independently going through the cat door which installed after I flew out here.  He also apologizes in advance for any lapses which may have taken place in her grooming; I’m sure it will be fine.  I hope she still recognizes me.

What a stupendous dinner Catherine cooked us.  In no particular order, fresh free range turkey larded with herbed sweet butter and lemon zest; roast carrots and parsnips; home made gravy; home made cranberry chutney; smashed potatoes; mixed fungus lightly sauteed in butter; spinach; bread rolls; two different kinds of dessert, one being bread pudding (walnut and raisin bread) and the other scratch made pumpkin pie which is really squash pie and you should have smelled the kitchen when Catherine was grinding the spices, both dishes with a side of whipped cream, did I mention gravy?, three beers (over the course of the evening), and an amazing squash and saffron rice casserole, except the squash was the container, and it looked like it had dropped in from Mars for the evening.  No stuffing; Catherine said that it was a food safety issue, but I still think I’ll stuff my next turkey because I do make good stuffing if I do say so myself.

In a pleasant state of repletion, I now seek shelter in my comfy bed.

Jeff dropped me off before 7 for an 8 am flight.  The full moon lurked low and red on the horizon.  I remember thinking on the way out the door that if I croak during my voyage some poor bastard, probably Katie, will have to muck out my room.  I’m thinking of buying another piece of luggage to bring home a whole bunch of lovely yummy malt bread, which you can’t get in Vancouver.  Also the shoes I intend to buy, because it’s obvious that not a single pair of my shoes is fitting me properly or good for my legs and back.

Yes, I took my computer.  Can’t help it.

My Unitarian hymn “Not Afraid to Believe” is in 12/8 time. It took me the better part of five years to figure that out. Now I can write it down (actually I just took a break from writing it down to blog about it, as I am doing the Snoopy dance).

Me exceptionally happy rightus nowus.

I made spag for the folks last night, and my food karma came back; Mike had me and Jeff over for a taco dinner.

Kubrick, interviewed by Playboy.

Young earth creationists…. they can’t handle the truth….