Category: Uncategorized

Happy Easter everybody

rawr!

In no particular order:

Jeff is off in the wilds of Victoria; there’s a housefilk in two weeks at Tom and Peggy’s; Keith stayed over Friday night and left late yesterday and how good it was to have him; I’ve got the living room set up like a recording studio; Miss Margot is getting better at staying clean when she visits the loo; the pollen count is so high, despite the rain, that I feel like my brain is swollen; I’m cooking dinner tonight for the folks, which means at some point I have to haul off in this digusting rain and go to the Costco for a hunk of beast; I have a new homily to deliver May 3rd, subject, gardens (I imagine I will be ably assisted in this endeavour by mOm); and for the first time in a couple of months I have cream for coffee at home, thanks to Keith, and I find I’m really enjoying it.

On the to do list today, mando and guitar practice. Writing down lyrics.  Finishing at least one song.

Miss Margot is eviscerating the kitchen rugs again.  Poor things, they will be shreads by the time she is done with them.  Her appetite is such that both Gizmo and Eddie have lost weight in the competition to stay nourished. Her belly is quite big.  I know Persians have a tendency to get stout being bred to sit around and look pretty like expensive odalisques, so I am considering how to keep the fat off her without starving the boys and I must admit it is a puzzle.  It’s not like I can take her for a walk, she’s not that kind of animal….

Keith has noticed that she doesn’t seem to see quite like other cats.  Her coordination and depth perception are good, but there seem to be chunks in her visual field that don’t work.   As a result she swivels her head like an owl, which she already rather resembles, and it’s either offputting or quite charming.

I was supposed to go to the camp this weekend but the weather is far too crappy and the commute would four hours out of this precious weekend.

Barbecue!

Pork chomps on the barbecue.  MMMM.

Mike phoned me from Wreck Beach yesterday to say dreamily, and with pretty obvious background noise, where he was.  After I quit maligning the quality of his parents nuptial bond, I had to admit he was one lucky chump.

After NCIS (Abby-centric episode yay) Keith, brooking no nonsense, hauled me out to the pool and held my head under until I did a couple of laps.  My foot feets much better this morning.

Jeff is sore all over

Part of it is scratches from Miss Margot (he’s threatening to post pictures). The other part is the horrific amount of heaving and tugging he’s had to do to help me get my head out of my ass.

No, he’s not moving out, or at least not until the next time I start rolling steel balls around in my hands again, quoting the Unabomber and twitching uncontrollably.  I’m not moving out either.  Besides, it’s NCIS night tonight, and we’re having barbecue with Keith, and I’m making cinnamon buns.  Blame in on menopause, blame it on the fact that every tree in Vancouver is having sex – and I’m not, sorry to point that out – or mebbe blame it on work.  Heavy sigh.

All I can think about is coffee….

So I will go nuke myself some.

I’ve noticed, following up on some of the stories of gangland shootings, that two of the most recent shootings were within blocks of where I live.  The sad fact is that gang activities are pretty much happening throughout the lower mainland.  There are times I worry about being shot by accident and then I have to remind myself that statistically I’m more likely to break my ankle in a drunken fall or get mangled in a car accident.  It’s odd how the threat of random violence somehow seems more likely than the usual things people get injured by.

This paragraph of whining about my physical ailments deleted.

I’m feeling pretty bleak, but at the same time I’m making some progress at work on some of the issues that were really bugging me.

I want to make cinnamon buns again, but there’s no more cinnamon.

Miss Margot is trying to kill Jeff’s houseplants.   Then she gave a sanguinary demonstration of how little she enjoys having her claws clipped.

Watched most of the NCAA championship last night.  The Tarheels sure are a good team.

I am really looking forward to three days off.  And now that I have hot coffee, I feel better.

Off to the camp

I inspected the trailer that’s for sale at the camp in White Rock and found that it’s on a cul-de-sac and has a FABULOUS deck and a really nice feel to it.  As for the inside, who the hell knows.  Apparently it leaked but it has a new tin roof and it looks like it was built to withstand a thermonuclear attack.  Spent the night at my new friend’s because we’d all had some beers and it’s a freaking long way back to King George Skytrain station from there.  The water has been turned on and my new friend cooked me breakfast – a really nice omelette – and I had what felt like a gallon of really good coffee.  Then we listened to Little Charlie & the Nightcats’ Deluxe Edition, and my, my, my what a tasty, musically dense and lyrically excellent album that is!

I am not going to retype the paragraph I just lost so let’s just say I had a good time and I’m happy to be home with Miss Margot.

Grampa’s stories

My grandfather’s stories are still holding my rapt attention.  I’m just finished the story of the irrigation system and how it was all washed away in a dreadful flood 8 years after he married my grandma.  His description of the first time he saw her is enough to keep any Harlequin Romance fan (I grew out of them, but I did love them once) happy.  And the horses!  There are so many descriptions of horses, and trick riding, and ranch riding, and working teams (four teams to move a house during the dirty Thirties) and on and on it goes.  His choice of words sometimes is uncannily apt, and his optimism, unshakeable faith in God and love for the land and his family is amazing to read about.  Happy sigh.

Work suckage was interrupted briefly yesterday by a much enjoyed buffet at the Himalayan Peak. Patricia and I had a very nice time.

Boring, interesting, boring, interesting, boring, interesting.

Spam is appearing in the comments again.

How are you holding up from conficker?

I had a good night’s sleep.

My new friend says there’s a trailer for sale in the campground… I will investigate later. Continue reading Boring, interesting, boring, interesting, boring, interesting.

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.

If I had a buck for every time it happened

I’m on a date with my new friend … I took him to Horizons.  We’re walking around in the garden behind the restaurant and my cell phone rings. It’s Katie.  “What’s the name of that song by that German woman that was on that album?”

“What, “Wir Leben Immer Noch”? I say.

“Yeah, how do you spell that?”

I spell it for her.  Buddy is looking at me like I am wacky.

Anyway, here it is. If it’s possible to play it at top volume…. do so!

The point being, I am expected to know everything.  And I wish I didn’t enjoy that so much, it’s not like I’m God or anything.