Grr

Here’s the list of shows and what’s happening.

BAD NEWS – Battle Creek is likely not going to make it, which cheeses me off because it was extremely entertaining and full of loveable characters.

WORSE NEWS – POI MAY not make it.  It could go either way; they say it will probably be renewed.

No surprise Big Bang Theory has been renewed for 3 frikkin seasons, but at least the best married couple on tv is still alive in the form of Madam Secretary.  Good Wife made it for one more season… without Kalinda that’s just as well! Castle got one more season.  The Simpsons got two more seasons.

Bob’s Burgers and Brooklyn 99 are coming back, probably to brO’s relief.

Marvel’s Agent Carter and Agents of Shield made it; candidly I’m much happier about Carter than Shield, which has lovely characters slopping around in a poorly constructed universe.

If I ever start to watch Supernatural, it just got another season, what is that 11 or 12 now?

CSI should be cancelled – it is old and venerable and not being particularly creative. But it may limp across another season.

NCIS and NCIS Body Count will be renewed.  I keep threatening to stop watching Body Count but I really like the characters.  It’s painful.

 

Oh, look what London looks like if you’re coloured.

52 words and 1.0 hour.  CT scan at 8 tonight.

Thunder

Just as I was waking up, I heard distant thunder.  Our little run of glorious sunny days is temporarily over.

3.4 hours, no writing, practicing Ain’t No Rest For the Wicked. Still messing with the chords, it won’t be an exact copy.

Interesting article about the Brit Royals.

This woman needs years of therapy,  but I suspect all she’ll ever get is jail.

Joss Whedon has been driven off twitter by criticism of his latest movie.  Marvel Avengers Age of Ultron.  Jeez, kiddo, can’t you just get your assistant to block and mute the assholes? I mean I totally get why you want to leave twitter.  I haven’t got my fill of Garret Dillahunt’s funny pictures, Jewel Staite’s twitter cocktails full of a limewaterish sarcasm, William Gibson’s powerhouse retweets, Alice Dreger and her Level 70 Snarkmaster comments about the state of sex education and many, many other mines of gleeful snark, Imani Gandy for her razorwire wit and bite, Lydia Shark because who doesn’t want A REAL GREAT WHITE SHARK on her twitter feed, all of the municipalities close by because they provide real information I can use in my daily life, News 1130 so I can laugh at all of the horrific things that happen in traffic every day in this clowncar of an assemblage of cities, Louisette Lanteigne the Metis/Acadian environmental writer and activist (her retweets are awesome), Katie Sackhoff for her dog pix, Matt Bryant formerly of Headwater who doesn’t even put his fucking gigs on twitter so I missed his Railway Club show in March (grr) and various filkers who I prefer on facebook anyway.  So I’ll be on twitter a while yet, it’s just too entertaining….

A massively unpleasant hour and a half

I have a temporary crown and get the real one in a fortnight. He froze me up solider than Mr. Freeze in liquid nitrogen, and then I was gagging for about half the time because the freezing was going down the side of my throat and a bit into my tongue and I quit being able to swallow with comfort.  Then of course they put a succession of chemical goos in little plates and they tell you to bite down and you know because this ain’t your first tooth-wrangling partay that you actually have to do what they say or the ****sucker will never fit properly in your mouth and even then there will be mighty hammerings and pryings and sawings and filings getting everything just so. But for the five minutes and other minutes that the gooey trays are in your mouth, there’s this impression that you’re sampling ‘the verrrry best a toxic waste dump can offer in the way of chemically goo!’ And I bit myself when frozen, one of my least favourite feelings because you have no way of knowing how bad it is until the freezing wears off.

Now my mouth hurts and the afflicted/treated tooth hurts so FRICKING BAD I am going to get up and get painkillers, and I don’t usually.

And all of this complaining must be set against the balance: that I needed to have the work done, and my family helped me, and I’m really, despite all this colourful whinging, most seriously and abjectly grateful.  Thank you.

Oh, and I biked to (in the middle spent time sunning myself at Paul’s, and also, sweeping, as the floors at Planet Bachelor Rev 1.3 needed them, and there was an apple and some San Pellegrino in there too) and from, so please, plaudits for getting off my ass.  It too is God’s handiwork, and only needs the chance to shine.

So happy Paul has retired.  I certainly think he is happy too.

Diddy-wah GRR

Buster, you are a CRAZY MAKING CAT.

He came in, feet wet and filthy with more than the normal grime, and I decided to clean off his paws before he tracked the schmutz ev’y’where.  Without biting or scratching – a masterful demonstration of tension and torsion – he resisted so hard I pulled something and it feels like the last time I had costochondritis.  I grabbed the scruff of his neck and said, quietly, “You will do as you are told.”  He promptly lay on the floor and let me minister to him, and wipe his feet dry, with no further resistance.  Now I feel like I went nine rounds with a baby goat and all of its pointy little hooves, at 4 am, hallelujah.

On his account we bought toddler proofing for the cupboards…

Only half an hour last night.  Not sure what happened there.  I don’t remember taking the mask off.

400 words yesterday.

I have an interview Monday.

 

We shall overcome

  • Singing that in church on the 50th anniversary of Selma.  I cried, it was really hard not to.  The minister preached an excellent sermon, and owned from the pulpit our shame and Canada’s in the treatment of the First Nations specifically with reference to the residential schools.  The part Unitarians played in Selma was retold.  In the future, they will ask, were you there, and I will have to answer.
  • 1.8 hours on the cpap.  Feel very crusty this morning. I had strange dreams.
  • The Rogue Folk Club is under attack.  They want to redevelop Saint James complex (the United Church of Canada local diocese) and given where it’s located, half a block from one of the priciest stretches of real estate in one of Canada’s priciest cities, I hardly think bake sales and fundraising will help.  Honestly I’m glad John didn’t live to see it.
  • March 14 there’s a demo against C51.
  • March 11 THEOLOGY PUB.  Rob and I are going again but the steak I felt comfy enough to treat him to is not happening again so he’s coming here first for sour owl jowls and then we’ll have soft drinks at the pub. He encouraged me to download Sketchup and it doesn’t fucking work with my Mac OS version so I am really irritated.  I’ll see if I can put it on the other machine. My irritation is softened by our amusing convo yesterday morning.  Me: Hey Rob, missed you in church last week, are you coming? Him: (sleepily) I was planning a leisurely shower and hop on the bus. Me, looking at the clock downstairs at church: Uh, it’s quarter after 10, hon. Him: I set my clock backward instead of forward.  Me: Showing up in time for coffee is a fine Unitarian tradition. Him: Skipping shower…. inbound!
  • Workshops are how to grow a church, who knew.  This is an in joke.
  • My landpeers are not raising our rent – for the second year running.  It’s like a March Miracle.  This is officially the most reasonably priced detached rental in east Burnaby.
  • I got Reddit gold.  If you don’t know what that is, good, and if you do know, ask me for my reddit username so you can bask in the glory that is my helpful commentary to the angry and sad.
  • My pOp played an extremely hilarious practical joke on me and Jeff, and to preserve the dignity of the everyone involved, I am not talking about it on the internet.  I did however light a candle for it in church and it must have sounded funny to the congregation, because they laughed most heartily.
  • I sent off another thousand words to mOm yesterday and as usual she is agitating for more.  It felt so good to have something to send… that chunk is only half way done.
  • The sun and warmth has been glorious.
  • Jeff and I tag teamed to move the fridge, clean under, beside and behind it, remove the MAT of dust on the fan intake, and once I clean the interior the fridge will be cleaner than at any point since we moved in.  I’m thinking of tackling Jeff to help with the kitchen “cupboards must be examined for stale dated contents” clean.
  • I have to call the city of Burnaby today and ask them where the food scraps container we are supposed to get is.
  • The purple and green screeching iridescent ribbons have gone from my fabric stash to church.  I have spent much time thinking what I should do with them, but finding out that the RE kids are doing a Maypole this year means that I never have to look at them and be sad again.
  • I enjoyed my sewing machine so much the last time I’m going to haul it out again.
  • But probably not before I clear off the living room table, which will probably take a couple of hours.
  • Keith is going to come over in the next couple of days and help me get my bicycle in riding condition.
  • I have an appointment with the bone health doc for the end of April. The MOA who called with the appointment info was a truly delightful person and though the call was brief it left me feeling really good.

Just so you know

I don’t appreciate having ads for Kinder Morgan on my site, and am trying to figure out how to get rid of them.

Check it out!  Isn’t it great when men who will have access to date rape drugs make fun about date rape?

A friend is having trouble with a band council administration.  Colonialism has made a proper mess of First Nations life.  This story has alcohol, violence and threats of it, substandard housing, employment being contingent on who your cousins are, more alcohol, treatment centers that drive their their residents in to town to buy cigarettes (fuck you must be kidding), people walking into your house in the middle of the night and not leaving when asked, being fired for no cause when you’re doing your job properly, having to call the RCMP on your in laws, racism and more bullshit than could be shoveled in a month by ten strong men.

If I hadn’t heard from a dear friend today, who is doing fine, I’d be very much on edge.d

Back to my babies.  Literary, squidly babies, with large appetites.

Haunting

I find this haunting. Someone has tried to reconstruct Babylonian song.

Yesterday I saw Sue in Little Women the Musical.  Unfortunately the book was not as good as the actors and musicians.  Fortunately I was able to argue my points with the actors afterwards without being dishonest or unkind, and it widened into a broader discussion of the challenges and rewards of musical theatre.  Ten years ago I would have said, Oh it was great, it was great.  Now I have the brains to respect people enough to be honest and the social intelligence to be honest without being a cad.

It was in Granville Island.  I had half an hour to Christmas shop.  I got an Alexosaurus (stuffed T Rex) and a kazoo.  Strangely, that is what I wanted.  I have rarely had a briefer and more pleasant Christmas shop.  The weather was crisply glorious and I likely won’t get to Granville Island again until Tammy comes.

Jeff and I walked to IHOP and back for breakfast.  It was very pleasant.

I think Riddle Number II is a cloud.  What do you think?

Work on the trilogy continues. Kima is pregnant – with more than 100 zygotes  by three fathers of two different morphs. This presents any number of social, emotional, physiological and ‘race’ issues.

I had a pleasant recent conversation with Dave JD.  He has joined the ranks of the unemployed.  I tried to get Facetime to reduce the expense of talking to him and repeated and lengthy attempts to purchase it were fruitless.  I really loathe anything to do with Apple customer service.  When I want an Android app or book I press a button, and free or not, it appears on my phone in about five minutes.  (I’m still on the first chapter of the Piketty book -if anyone wants to mock me… go ahead).

I can’t really deal with heeled shoes any more so I took two pairs of Fluevogs into church yesterday (the bus DIDN’T COME at 10:03, or even five minutes earlier according to the guy I ran into so I was 25 minutes late for church, screw you translink).  Anyway the teenaged co-congregant who had admired my steampunky shoes got about 300 dollars worth of footgear in a little bag, and if I did nothing else yesterday I made her very happy.  Her socks MATCHED the second pair of shoes, in a most gratifying way.

How do you detect an extrasolar planet? With objects found in hardware stores and Nikon lenses and software and a little something something to remove blur.

Yesterday morning I awoke to a dream in which Hitler’s mustache was crawling up my door frame.  I woke up for real and spent a disoriented couple of seconds looking for it.  Very odd, and not a little disturbing.

Breakfast of writing champions! Peanut butter cookies warm from the oven and fair trade coffee with real cream.  Ha!

We think Autumn may be knocked up.  It’s always something.

The very edited version

So around 12:30 we went over to see Autumn.  I left Jeff to commune with her and cut Paul’s hair.

He approves; in a couple of days we’ll get custody so the young person living with her gets a proper goodbye.  This also gives us a chance to somewhat catproof the house, as we’ve been living with a cat that couldn’t jump onto a counter unless a JATO bottle was strapped to her ass, and I suspect from her build and the evidence of my own eyeballs that she is gonna be one impressive jumper, like top of the fridge with no apparent effort jumper.  We’ll keep her in for a couple of days and then, she’ll be an outdoor kitty again.

Then Jeff and I helped with their move (they were both there and heaving and what not, and I mostly did useful but not as move-y type things). Jeff worked like a navvy there for a couple of hours.

Then Keith and I picked up Katie’s shower gifts and had a very pleasant time there.  Nita and Mike were there, and it was lovely to see Nita. The GLD was in fine form, being passed from hand to sweaty hand without showing much signs of being bothered by it.  Ah, Alex.  His facial features are more defined and his eyes really look at you now.  He’s mothering strong.  I didn’t take pictures because it wasn’t really that kind of gathering; we were making real memories, not digital ones.  Really good to see the folks.

Then Keith drove me home.

and a thinky thought or two plus a review.

 

I never really expected to get this old. Even as a teenager I expected something like the singularity to happen; not that I would necessarily conquer death but that the essential part of my brain that apprehends and manipulates the world to make art would still remain.

A body is entirely necessary for this, I have learned. Nothing else is as efficient. I am stuck with it, as well or as poorly as it functions inside the haphazard collection of coincidences that any human body is. I am thinking along those lines because of a documentary I just watched.

Jeff and I’ve just watched the second episode of Your Inner Fish, which is so superior to most contemporary documentaries that it’s hard to pick the most excellent bits out for comparison.

Let us start with the script. Lively, engaging, colloquial without any sacrifice of accuracy, it moves along at a goodly clip and only recapitulates at key points. From there we proceed through the outstanding use of three dimensional modeling to render the evolution of various features common to everything that’s come along since fish. The soundtrack is pedestrian without being annoying, which is all I truly ask of a documentary. The closeups of the various fossils are mindblowing. There were critters I had no idea existed; some have been found with so much detail that you’d be forgiven for thinking they were recently deposited. Some of them are tiny, no more than the size of a paper clip, and yet that tiny critter — with a brain half again as large as anything else then alive of that size — or something very like it, was the ancestor of every human being you have ever loved or hated.

Your Inner Fish showed science as tedious and glorious, backbreaking and cerebral, fun and scary, but mostly it showed science as the kind of thing a passionate and intelligent human being can throw every aspect of the self into; as you peer into the research of each scientist you see what it is about what they are doing that makes it good work, and get a sense for how the research is connected.

You travel from New Jersey to the Arctic, and from Nova Scotia to South Africa, which is where the best bones from the transitional periods between fish and amphibians, and amphibians and reptiles can be found, so it’s a bit of a travelogue as well.

I am really looking forward to seeing the conclusion.

blergh

I have now invested large chunks of many days in a row in Paul and Keith’s move, and I’m finding it rather a trial.  For me a move is something other people get to show up at for one day.  That means you pack everything, etc.

Too much on my plate today – Church, then moving, then cat acquisition, then Katie’s baby shower.  It’s the story of my life, nothing for months and then everything piles up in one day. I have met the cat (her name is Autumn) and she is stunningly gorgeous, exceedingly athletic, and very clever.  Margot’s gonna wonder what hit her if Autumn meets with Jeff’s approval.  She needs to leave where she is because she is one cat surplus to the landpeer’s okay and she really is an outdoor cat, which she can be here, as Miss Margot is an outdoor cat.  She shouldn’t be – you know it and I know it – but she is.

2020 says Autumn was male.

I was hoping to get out for a nice dinner tonight but I will probably curl up in a fetal ball and collapse instead.

My hot water bottle perished and voided itself on me this morning.  I managed not to get any water on my computer or me, by a special mercy of providence.

The nerve of that guy! Jeff won’t take me to breakfast unless I change out of my pjs.  Thank you Jeff for yummy noms.

 

I’ve got a timer set for how long Ima suffer those fools.

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Singing

I know it’s  very weird to be rehearsing with a band that I’m not part of, but given that Mayhem has constraints (how can Mayhem HAVE constraints) that I can’t get into, because, strangely, reasons involving stupidity on the part of others in foreign climes, I kind of have to.  I suppose that wasn’t really a useful or discursive thing to say.  But I was singing last night and Peggy fed me and Shad an awesome dinner.  I loves me some Peggy.

I am writing, I am editing, and it all goes glacially slowly.  About three hundred words a day and maybe a page of edits.

I am seeing if I can go more than a couple of weeks without drinking.  I no longer seem able to process beer and it makes me really really sad.  It shouldn’t because, hey, water comes out of a tap and that was Adam’s ale, and Vancouver has the best municipal water system in the world, and the tap water is yummy, but I all sad face. Like I want to make a painting of a stubby or something.  Also, there is no chocolate cake in the house.  There should at least be cookies.  And I can always make more cake.  There is a drained lake of beer in my heart that only cake or possibly cookies can fill.

People want to know how much I’m seeing Alexander.  I’m seeing him as much as his mother and I agree seems to be right, and while it could be more, my own dear Grandma didn’t see me until I was walking, and it really helps to keep a sense of perspective about these matters.  If somebody wants my advice they can scarcely get the request out before I’m a-schpraying them, firehose-wise, with a side of and-another-things.  I have concerns of my own, thank the dear one.  Being an introvert Grandma is an interesting experience.

dreary day

I have slid into a very unfunky funk. I need to listen to loud rude music for a while. Or make some. Sandra asked me to write her a song, and that rocked me back on my heels as I am not feeling the writing part at all.

I’m having a physical problem right now which is NOT a topic for public conversation and I’m actually in quite a bit of discomfort. I should be better in a couple of days but right now I am in the sorry zone.

Or maybe I should fill in character sheets.

Back really hurts

I’m trying to do housework, but since bending hurts to the point I’m crying and any other position ‘just hurts’ I’m having a rough go.

Laundry is on. I remember seeing a one act play in Toronto once called Laundry and Bourbon. As I recollect it was extremely funny. Bob Desrosiers was one of the actors in the accompanying one act play, Lone Star, which was also very funny.

The Anne Elk Theory of Everything:

All great things start as small things and end as small things.

Wrote a couple of hundred words yesterday. Edited a couple of sections, which you should never do before you’re done, but I ran some tests on the manuscript, and it’s coming back completely infested with semi-colons AND sentences which start with and, which is a breathless and gormless way to commence a sentence. Rather than a very stern editing, I gaily removed semi-colons for half the day. Should you be required to bury me under a single symbol, make it a semi-colon; it’s the thumbprint of a talkative son of a bitch.

Nothing much to report

Katie came over yesterday; we went for a short walk and I gave her the last half of the banana bread, not that it would have survived until Jeff got here anyway. I read this article to her. We had a good talk about it.

I tried writing this morning but I’m too distracted and ‘off’. I’m also really feeling my back,

I found out there’s a company that will pick up take out and bring it to you, so maybe the next time Jeff and I have a craving for Switzerland Chicken we can get it that way. They’re also licenced to bring beer. Hey, I will be leaving the house today, don’t worry! I’m thinking of walking down to New Westminster and then taking the bus back to spare myself that hill.

Dara, a filk/fb acquaintance, has rewritten some of Yahoo’s code to make the email groups work properly again. This while making an album and renovating her kitchen. Gumption, SHE HAZ IT.

Tony Stewart ran over (accidentally or not) and killed a 20 year old man named Kevin Ward Jr at a racetrack last night. He’s apparently going to race again today, which I think is the height of cluelessness. This show must go on the sponsors are waiting shit has gotta stop. Unless you’re Weird Al Yankovic continuing to tour after his parents died, that was awesome.

I watched the news, and regular tv, last night. When did all commercials become so sexualized? Why is local news so boring? Then I watched something called 16×9 and just wanted to punch out walls for a while. The story was great but I was so mad it ruined my evening, I just ended up going to bed super early. Syngenta is evil!

safely home

There was a certain amount of ugliness at both ends of the trip – I came home day before yesterday – but I’m going to take the high road and not whine about it since it all came right in the end… always a hazard of complaining live, you may look like an ass in real time rather than recollecting the horror with a suitable amount of alcohol to hand, speaking of which, there is none in the house.

It’s a rainy and overcast and not particularly warm day in Vancouver.  The alternator is starting to go on the MR2 so Jeff will be babying it until he has a chance to get it fixed.  He’ll be off to visit the folks sometime soonish, within the next week, and I’ll be doing the walk on thing to visit them shortly thereafter.

Today, a Costco run.  I’ve already applied for all of the interesting looking jobs; now to map out some kind of more useful job hunting plan than I have at the moment, as it is entirely too passive.

I was thinking after we came back from brekkie (steak and eggs… should you care) that I don’t feel like working on George today, so it will be Tarot for Atheists.