Lost mail

It appears I haven’t been receiving mail at two of my different addresses.  My apologies for not responding to any mail which I didn’t actually get to read.

Ran into cousin Laurel in the Granville Station the other day.  When she told me she’d emailed me I went, “Hunh?” because I certainly had no recollection of receiving anything from her, and it would be a red letter day if I did.  I’ve also sent mail out in the last week that never got to the recipient, so it’s good not to assume malfeasance in these cases….

I’m heading to Jericho tonight and Victoria on the weekend, and hopefully somewhere in there I get to see daughter Katie.  So I have a nice week in prospect.

Work continues to rapidly improve.  I wish I could say the same about my back.  Other parts of me are grumbling too, but the back is loudest; I’m doing my exercises, including (since I couldn’t sleep anyway) getting up and doing them at 4 in the morning.

I had one of my favourite coworkers say to me yesterday, “What the hell am I good at?” so I wrote him a paean of praise (disguised in the dreadful, eviscerated language of “the resume”) which outlined exactly what he does that is SO bloody amazing; I am looking forward to his comments, especially the last line, which was, Holy crap! after rereading that even I was impressed, and I’ve seen you plastered.

Ah, workmates.

Today is the all staff meeting.  I found out from the CEO that somehow my email outlining my questions for the townhall had disapparated, so I re-sent it (lot of that going around), only this time I took thought to include one of Scary Clown’s questions.  We shall see if anything comes of it.

Despite everything that’s going on (some of my rellies are having a hard time with one thing and another, and I’m up to four painkillers a day, again, after not being that bad for a year) I’m actually happy.  And I’m working on a tune, which I think is going to be an instrumental, and I’m using chords which I don’t know the names for.  I love the mandolin, but it’s still very much a foreign language.  Oh, and I sliced myself in the kitchen on the weekend, so I bled all over the fretboard as I was practicing for Jericho tonight.  It doesn’t really hurt, but it was a surprise to see the blood.  I immediately started riffing on “Ya gotta suffer if you want to sing the blues.”  But really, I haven’t, and I don’t.

An experiment

For the next week or so, there will be ‘autoposts’ in here – I post dated a number of history links.

I would like to take this opportunity to complain in the strongest possible terms about the Government of Ontario.  On June 6 they took my money for a birth certificate for Katie, which I need to get her a passport so I can take her to Hawaii.

Well guess what!  Two months have gone by and no birth certificate and no explanation, although I keep messaging them.

Keith was here last night too

Keith stayed over last night, mostly because I kidnapped his Patrick O’Brian book and then started snoring.  Evil I am.  I took him out to dinner and he had tandoori chicken for the first time (on Caesar salad…)

Last night I dreamed that Spike from Buffy was writing a book on how to be the perfect boyfriend.  Most of us spewed out our tea when we heard this, especially when he started lecturing us about it (he went on at length and I sure wish I could remember any of it). We were all dressed in period costume (like a really really bad bunch of Pirates/Aubrey-Maturin/Diamond Age/mid-Victorian cosplayers). We got on a boat and hunted crocodiles.  The inside of the boat was bigger than the outside.

Work is abruptly better because there’s a new hire starting next week.  I cheered up.  Also, my coworkers are awesome – I just thought I’d mention that.  I still wish I could say something about two other departments in my company besides, “If brains were a Botox injection you’d look like a Sharpei”.

Sundry and Various

Date from Friday night is not further interested.  Fortunately I am too busy to do more than go, “Hm, damned shame.”

This is a paragraph about how one woman can say to another “Maybe what I need is an 8 inch sub!” and we’re not talking sammitch.

It’s 7:15 and I’ve talked to two gf’s in Ontario already!  Hugs to Tammy, Hugs to Chipper.

Last night Patricia came with me to the Jericho.  She paid her eight dollars to get in but only watched me and two other performers, then went back out on the deck where she found a table with two good looking (merrit of course) middle aged men who didn’t want to finish their beer. Christ, they could have had no conversation at all and I would have liked them under those circumstances.  After we left (and I sang the song I wrote for LTGW at the top of my lungs in Jericho Park) she told me that I was far superior to the other performers and it was worth the 8 bucks to hear me sing Slimfast and Methadone.  OF COURSE this does not need to be true for me to be irrationally pleased. It was a very fun evening and I laughed my ass off.
Keith’s birthday books arrived on Monday and with his permission I devoured them.  It’s good to have maps of the action in the Patrick O’Brian books.
Colin’s visit was a very low key success. He took a lot of self portraits with my laptop, some of which were quite startlingly funny.  I wanted to post one with the title “How I lowered my IQ 45 points without even trying” but I don’t have his permission, and I’d flog somebody that posted a pic of me like that, so discretion prevails.
Mike M called from Wreck Beach yesterday…. if I hadn’t committed to go to Jericho, I would have gone to Wreck in a heartbeat, ’twas a glorious day.

Work bites the parasite riddled butt of a moribund goat and it’s going to stay like this all summer.  Fortunately there is a point at which things will twitch feebly back into their previous configuration or something like it, so I am trying to be philosophical.  In fact that about covers my life right about now “Trying to be philosophical”!

I had a blind date yesterday

He started losing me when he said that the word the came from theos (I called bull—-, looked it up in his convenient dictionary, proved that it was Anglo Saxon, showed it to him – at which point he shrugged and kept talking – on the same point, without realizing I had just destroyed his argument) but I didn’t say Cheque Please until he told me I was a poor lamb for believing humans ever walked on the moon.  He also purported to be enlightened and that he would show me everything; of course anything I said fed into his, uh, schema.  It was a tour de force, and since he was essentially harmless – it was obvious from his body language that he couldn’t hurt a fly – I let him run on until the second time he started repeating myself.  Finding myself lonely for intelligent conversation I went home and called some friends.

And for my next trick, I will include the word ’empirical’ in any future personal ads.

And now I can’t get “The Eagle has Landed” out of my head.  Murphy bless the big and little filkers.

What news?

I learned last night that the closing date has been moved in two weeks; it’s now July 15th.

Sandra sent me pics of a fine looking woman sitting in her living room in Syria with two tame hyenas.  Brr. Those things are loony dangerous!  It would be like taming bears, no sane person would do it.  Anyway, I’d repost it but for some reason I could not copy the pic to post.

I am definitely NOT coming to Victoria this weekend, as I suspect I will be heaving crap out of the two sheds this weekend once I hear when is convenient so to do with Paul.

Sigh.  V. happy about Katie still, and why the hell not.

My telus webmail is down.  Normally I wouldn’t mention such a trifle, but I ran a personal ad.  And that’s where all the replies are going, and the Telus minion was both rude and uninformative as to when the webmail will be up again.   Gr.

Rereading Master and Commander as I don’t have any fresh Aubrey/Maturin books.

Today, the photo for my passport, and possibly some of the other paperwork dealt with.

Hey pOp

I read the first 21 pages of St Eve’s charge to the jury in the Black mail and wire fraud trial. What I read was really interesting, although being bird witted I ran out of steam and decided even if I hadn’t read the whole thing it was worth posting the link.

Scroll down until you hit the “Read the instructions to the jury” link.

Katie’s principal read out loud at the graduation that “Katie hopes that her grandparents are proud of her.” I’d say bursting with pride about covers it. Purpose sure is an amazing school.

I don’t have pics because Katie danced off with her camera and Paul drove her home. It was an exceedingly pleasant and low key event. All the speeches were terse, whether off the cuff or scripted, the mike got handed round the room, and of course, the piece de resistance was the two musical teachers singing a Grad Parody of Man of Constant Sorrow, as sung in O Brother Where Art Thou.

Meshugas after I got home – the front door exit lever was broken. You could open it from the outside with the pass card but not from the inside with the lever. This freaked the hell out of Katie, Paul and Suzanne; Paul’s comment was that it was a fire hazard and needed to be corrected immediately. I had already stuck the after hours emergency number in my cell phone… so I left a message and by the time the folks left the door had been fixed. I may have had nothing to do with it but it certainly argues that the building is being properly maintained.
Oh, also pOp you should be hearing from Katie shortly, something about the Spike Jones and the City Slickers tape being trashed and how much she would really appreciate another one. I found some on the internet and Katie got all gooey eyed about it.

Gosh, you should have seen her, a vision in Gothic Black. Dax looked sharp too. I would have killed to have worn the shoes Suzanne did; extra high topped black and white sneakers with gel insoles. yowza. The venue was STUNNING, the mood electrically happy but mellow, the food rocked and did I mention the speeches were short? All in all a truly successful evening. Then we came back here and some of us drank beer (that would be me and Paul) and some of us drank Baja Rosa (that would be Katie, who was showing signs of snogging the entire thing, and Suzanne and Dax). And we listened to Man of Constant Sorrow from the soundtrack, and Bob Dylan, and Mika, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs ang Peggy Lee and Spike Jones and we watched the Triumph motorcycle ad. I mean, gather round the fire, folks.

Did I mention my bundle buggy spectacularly exploded as I was exiting the 135 bus at Hastings and Willingdon today? I got down on my hands and knees and grabbed all the washers and the spring, which had sproinged, as springs do, and then spent an unhappy five minutes crawling about on the sidewalk jamming it back together and wishing I had some lockwire. (Subsequent analysis by Paul caused him to exclaim that I should have asked for the fat stuff, not the skinny lockwire, and subsequent subsequent analysis caused him to say it really needed a cotter pin anyways.) We only had three feet of the skinny stuff, which isn’t enough for otherwise stabilizing it. I will have to get by without it for a while, I sure don’t want to go through that again although I did keep my head at the time and actually did a quick count on the other side to make sure I had all the washers. Do I sound absurdly proud of myself? Good.
I got a picture of Daxus wearing my fake snake coat. He’s standing under an exit sign. V. cute.

It’s 2:51 in the morning

I went to bed super early – like when I got home last night – and of course now I’m hopelessly awake. I spent an hour with Patrick O’Brian and the Mauritius Command – how odd to be reading a book in part about Reunion, where cousin Lexi did part of her growing up – and I think the reason I had to crash so hard was because the chemicals from the oven cleaner really messed me up.

I know I said, one last widdy, but after I did the touch up paint and the oven I realized that there’s floors to wash downstairs – or I should say damp mop – and the whole place needs yet another vacuuming and when I inspected the fridges I realized that they should definitely get wiped up. It’s not like they are filthy, but they are just not quite clean enough. I will go Tuesday night, Katie’s supposed to be coming over for the last whack at her course completion before she grads. Oh blissful month of June, that has a graduation in it.

I will try to get off my duff and take and crop a picture of the quilt. I’m so used to doing everything in Paint in Microsoftland that I’m at a loss to even figure out which program I need to be in to crop a picture… although my wordpress toolbar works again thanks to RobofNine so I will have no difficulties posting it once I’ve quit putzing with it.

I light a candle for Riverbend, the ‘Iraqi girl blogger’. I light a candle for those who did experience flooding and a candle of thanksgiving that we managed to get through the worst of it thanks to the weather, so no BIG floods this year.  Although the Provincial emergency dude says usually you get through what you think is the worst of it and it comes back and kicks you again.  Sixty percent of the snowpack is there.  I light a candle for all the folks on boil water advisories.
I asked Paul what he’s doing for Father’s Day and he said he was going to Casey’s birthday party (and he is actually working that day too). I was trying to orchestrate getting both of the kids in one place for him but I should stop being a busybody and just let him do it.

I have one more week of hell and then I go on vacation (and the only reason I’m having Hell at Work is because I’m covering somebody’s planned medical leave). Vacation will include Making Sure the House is Just So and Getting my Apartment so it doesn’t Look Like a Bear Pit and applying for a passport and visiting my Mother and hopefully my bro, and applying to the Car Coop and hopefully having something resembling a relaxing time and maybe even playing around with Garage Band a bit more.

I think my back is getting better. I know it sounds weird, I should be able to tell, but it’s such an incremental thing. It definitely appreciates walking, and me sitting properly. Sleeping is fine (although I only have two useful positions for sleeping and in one of them I snore like (to use a massively indelicate phrase) a chainsaw in a bucket of snot.

I owe Chipper a phone call…. the TOURIST SEASON has begun in Madawaska. The most extraordinary thing happened this year though, according to her. A combination of heat and wet destroyed the blackfly crop. What a shame, hunh? I remember we went up there one time and the fly bites made me sick as hell. And poor Katie….. she gets bit by everything.

Speaking of getting bit, Katie’s bedbug situation, by dint of her heroic efforts, plus the exterminators, has been fixed.

Good news and bad news and the Augur Inn report

The good news is I’m down six pounds since the beginning of May. The bad news is I still don’t have a proper editing toolbar in WordPress. However, Rob of Nine, being the kind of guy he is, has offered to come assist me next Friday. I decided it was an excuse for a party, so I’m throwing a tech support party next Friday after work. Tomorrow I go see Lindsay’s band at the Rowing Club, and I may end up sleeping on Patricia’s floor; personally I’m more inclined to go crash at home, seeing as how it’s one bus ride from her place! There’s even a night bus.

This evening I communed for three hours straight with the downstairs cleaning in Dr. Filk’s old place. I’m ALMOST done the kitchen. Still have to do one last wipe down of the counters, but everything else is clean.  Also I vacuumed in his old bedroom – again – as there was debris on the carpets from where Paul put in new plugs. That room looks amazing now – Paul also put back the wooden louvred doors – all in all it looks a most attractive room. One more wipe down of the windows and it should be good to show. Also damp mopped and put floor polish on the downstairs bathroom and got the last boxes and a cat carrier out of the dungeon storage room. It’s getting there. The real estate agent will be in early next week.

I light a candle for my boss. I like him personally and professionally, and to be wholly professional… I shall say no more.

Workt round house

Painted Dr. Filk’s kitchen, did the upstairs trim touchup, upstairs linen closet as it was the ONLY thing upstairs that makes you jump when you look at it, (partial, more tonight), vacuumed out the dungeon storage room, got the headboard into the garage, helped Katie find stuff, took three boxes home (groan, where am I going to PUT this crud??? – actually it’s already unpacked) and worked with Paul on the separation agreement a little.  Katie showed up, heard my voice, burst into tears and flung herself into my arms; Paul took her back to his new place to help her look for cds. Keith did part of the lawn but he’s still really sore from his Parkour workout last week and didn’t even go to karate last night. Hauled two HUGE bags of garbage from my apartment this morning. Saw some orange (Like, dayglo orange) bees on the way to work and then noticed that there were half a dozen sunning themselves and getting ready to work for the day. I light candles for expectant mothers, my girlfriend Tammy, and for my mom in hopes she will be able to prevent a bunch of family papers from vanishing now that an elderly relative has gone to a home. I love Patrick O’Brian novels, they repay re-reading quite as much as Dunnett novels do. Internet today, with luck.

More movies, more paint, more O’Brian

Yesterday, I was cleaning the back deck and stairs (almost three hours of backbreaking work), policing up the upstairs fireplace (it is shiny now!), priming cupboards in the upstairs kitchen, and policing up the fridge and stove (the new used stove has some really weird plastic bits on it that are nasty to clean) and now I just finished scraping paint where I could off the back deck and finishing/detailing the upstairs bathroom, all but the floor and toilet. I must have cleaned the shower doors 5 times before all the smears came off. Now to the dungeon to finish cleaning out the storage cupboard so I can do the downstairs ‘dungeon’ rug, or maybe I’ll detail the last item in Keith’s room (louver doors) and then go eat something. I sure wish Paul hadn’t cut the hose on the central vac (it was awkwardly but usefully long), there’s parts of the house that are not reachable as a result; I may have to bring my new vacuum cleaner down here, which I emphatically don’t want to do without a car.

Last night I watched District 13. I heartily and without reservation recommend it if you want to watch a pure, adrenaline soaked, heart’s in the right place action flick (watch it in French with the subtitles. This may be one movie where the subtitles are better than the original….). The reviews I read of it led me to believe that the script was crap and the acting worse, but that the action sequences were worth the price of admission.

BS! It’s a good movie. It ain’t a film, but it’s a movie, and movies, by Gar, are supposed to MOVE. I liked all the actors and the violence was cartoony and the script was snappy and the basic premise was nasty and believable, at least to an old conspiracy theorist like me. I have every intention of sitting down and watching it again when I get home.

I was talking to Keith (who else would I watch a parkour movie with??) and he said that he has no intention of moving in with me. I was relieved by this. I want him to come see me when he feels like it, but I think he’d be better off with his dad. I also straightened a couple of other things out which I had been somewhat concerned about, and while the truth may hurt, I feel much better. I will say one thing, which I am finding amusing. As I badmouth Paul less and less – because 25 years of bottled (and alas, not so bottled) rage, frustration and disappointment are now turning to “Thank Goodness that phase of my life is drawing to a close”, I learn from Keith that Paul is badmouthing me more and more. Anyway, considering the sh*tpile of nasty things I’ve said about Paul it’s only fair that some of my chickens come back to their guano-coated abode. In the end, I hope I can always boil it down to, “Nice guy; can’t live with him though.”

But life is beautiful these days; I have another 17 Aubrey/Maturin books to read, as Keith has borrowed HMS Surprise for me. I read the durned thing, which candidly explains my grogginess today! Back at home, I keep hearing the SFU pipe band off in the distance (where it belongs, as Keith drily remarks). And with any goddamned luck, my internet will be running again tomorrow. Here’s hopin’.

I’m smiling a lot these days.

Augur Inn redux redux

Paint, clean, scrape, remove silicone seal (2.5 hours worth on that alone.).  Other people in the family are breaking up too, I light a candle for them (you know who you are, and I needn’t comment).  I worked from 9:30 until 4:30 with an hour break.
I was hoping to see a movie with Keith tonight but it turned into a mob scene.  I’m going to go home and have a home cooked meal and a hot bath.
My internet at home died.  Telus pointed at Microsoft, Microsoft pointed at HP, and everybody had a great attitude and answered promptly and the fucking thing still doesn’t work.  I will try to get it running from home, and if I don’t, I’m going to take it as a sign from the gods and just take it back to the place of purchase for refund or exchange.  Mike says London Drugs will actually fix it.  We’ll see.
Vista bites.  This line deleted on advice of counsel.  As for the rest of you, make a system backup disk the second you unpack anything with Vista on it, I guarantee you’ll need it.