Ryker equals Taz

Yesterday I helped out at my daughter’s place while my co-grandma-in-law Suzanne had an appointment, so I got to ‘care’ for Ryker. (By which I mean chase around the busiest toddler in 10000 years of human history.) He is 1.6 years old and can open doors already – that’s how tall he is.

Suzanne hung around for a while to transition the care over and I sat in the living room, touched my chest and said, “I’m GG”. (He knows who I am but he’s a human being and I was trying to be polite.)

A minute later he walked over to me, touched my chest, and softly said “GG”. Suzanne saw. I didn’t cry but it was a near thing. He used that name another time but I didn’t hear.

He is so close to talking in full sentences that it’s wonderful, and he puts two words together all the time – but he still uses baby sign for more – I was feeding him a cut up peach. Munch shudder munch shudder stuff munch shudder. It was hilarious.

When he was hungry, he climbed a bar stool -honest to god I was in the same room but not fast enough – and LAUNCHED HIMSELF into his ‘food appreciation chair – without toppling it, mostly because I finally found the JATO bottle and ‘hit it’ – arriving at the chair in time to ensure he didn’t fall off the FRONT of the chair.

In other grandson news, Alex and I were both wearing astronaut t-shirts and Suzanne got a pic (not available yet) and I got to watch Alex lovingly and appropriately interact with his brother (including carrying him out onto the deck so he could continue his passionate and one-sided love affair with the recycling truck) and okay, now I’m crying in earnest.

Ryker can also watch ‘Bluey’ (a recommended kids show, if you want to make your great grandchildren happy hint hint have some of it downloaded so they can watch it.) For twenty minutes at a time. He absolutely loves it and dances to the theme song. WHILE he’s jumping all over his mommabear’s bed. He fell off twice and walked it off. Fearless and self-soothing. TERRIFYING in other words.

AND I got to watch Alex playing a game, Carrion on Steam. It’s a pixellated horror side scroller and ‘not appropriate for my age’ as Alex sagely observed, playing the monster and casually eviscerating the security guards at the research facility. pOp, it would make you happy. I took my eye off Ryker for TWO FREAKING SECONDS (I was talking to Keith, who had just returned from Seattle and a visit to Hank and Janice and Laura with Paul) and he’s IN his brother’s room IN the computer chair (Keith says he has a thing for computer chairs) and PUTTING THE FUCKING HEADPHONES ON. He is the ultimate monkey. His new nickname is Taz, for the WB Tasmanian devil.

Jeff bought me a delicious chicken salad from White Spot yesterday. Honestly it’s one of the best I’ve ever eaten and packed with noms. And the air conditioning works, so again, thank you Jeff for picking out one of the most durable wheeled air-conditioning units ever sold. It was so hot the crows perched with their mouths open.

Jeff and Buster went for a walk this morning, I should find out how that went.

huzzah times four

The cone is off.

Buster immediately did two things; scream at the door (Jeff’s not letting him out yet) and insist on training. That was pleasant.

I had home made ramen for breakfast – I made it lunchtime yesterday. Soup has such a mollifying quality to it. Ingredients: 2 litres of low salt chicken broth, two teaspoons of veggie soup stock, one teaspoon of hoisin sauce, one teaspoon of sesame oil, fresh parsley, sautéed garlic and onions, organic ramen noodles. (SO GOOD).

I’ve done my brain exercises. I still have a brain, it’s doing okay, I even got two top five scores for the first time in what feels like months. So whatever weirdness was happening seems to have lifted a bit.

Off this afternoon to mind Ryker for three whole hours. Alex has been abjured by his mommabear to assist me because I’m ‘worried I might do something wrong because I don’t have enough practice looking after him.’

 

well wow

ParticularSummer6019 on reddit ran ‘the opposite of the star spangled banner’ through chat AI and this is what happened. It’s doggerel, BUT WHAT DOGGEREL

Oh, the shadows we cast in twilight gloom
At the land that divides us, our hearts find no room
The stripes of discord, the fields of disdain
We March to the dissonance, a fractured refrain.

With no gleaming stars, just darkness above,
No unity we find, no binding love.
Where freedom falters, and justice bends,
In this shattered land, our hope descends.

The flag of division, we unfurl high,
A symbol of discord, where truth and trust die.
No land of the free, no home of the brave,
Only chains of discord, a nation enslaved.

Happy 4th July

so sad for Buster

The cone doesn’t actually come off until tomorrow morning. After the cone shenanigans when he was neutered, Jeff with my cooperation is being a stickler for following the vet’s instructions. Sutures are out at least so he’ll be less itchy. He healed like a total champ.

Here’s an interesting article about Indigenous accomplishments in Australia, dating all the way back to the dreamtime.

I’m helping look after Ryker tomorrow.

I won’t talk about it in public, but I did something very stupid yesterday and made myself barf again. Jeff knows about it.

Booked a mammogram for August. Still have not been able to get hold of the doctor’s office but hopefully they’re open today.

so happy for Buster

Today’s the day! CONE COMES OFF, STITCHES OUT. … also today I phone the doc’s office and ask why the fuck she didn’t email me my requisition which she said she would do on the phone during our last appointment.

Three months of rent cheques off to the landpeer this am.

Feeling pretty good, except my nose is running. The grass pollen is insanely high.

Still plugging away at TB (65K words and NO SIGN OF WRAPPING UP) and Handyman Special (12902 words DITTO)

a little context

Across the planet, police unions are more openly detaching from the justice systems they are embedded in. Case in point.

four continuous days of rioting in France after the police kill a young protester. A library (god damn it) is on the casualty list, as it was burned down.

Here’s the translation of a joint communiqué by UNSA and Alliance Police Nationale, the two main police unions in France. Translation provided by Arnaud Bertrand (@RnaudBertrand on twitter).

“Now that’s enough… Facing these savage hordes, asking for calm is no longer enough, it must be imposed! Restoring the republican order and putting the apprehended beyond the capacity to harm should be the only political signals to give. In the face of such exactions, the police family must stand together. Our colleagues, like the majority of citizens, can no longer bear the tyranny of these violent minorities. The time is not for union action, but for combat against these “pests”. Surrendering, capitulating, and pleasing them by laying down arms are not the solutions in light of the gravity of the situation. All means must be put in place to restore the rule of law as quickly as possible. Once restored, we already know that we will relive this mess that we have been enduring for decades. For these reasons, Alliance Police Nationale and UNSA Police will take their responsibilities and warn the government from now on that at the end, we will be in action and without concrete measures for the legal protection of the Police, an appropriate penal response, significant means provided, the police will judge the extent of the consideration given. Today the police are in combat because we are at war. Tomorrow we will be in resistance and the government will have to become aware of it.”

The original document, in case of dispute.

Isn’t that nice? Not only do they want to kill protesters with impunity, they want the government to sanction it. I note the use of the word ‘savage’ which is global code for either Indigenous or brown. Christ wept. You may note some other locutions as being a veritable symphony of dog whistles for the racist & xenophobic hard right.

This is not the last time we’re going to see police unions pull shit like this.

For the last time: the police are public servants. If they don’t act or talk like it FIRE THEM

 

Day of mourning

Given a choice between shooting and murdering Vlad Putin and Clarence Thomas, I think I’d shoot Thomas; more of my friends would be positively affected.

Thomas is a rich hypocrite. In 1983 he talked about the positive effects of affirmative action on his life; this week he spearheaded ending it, to appease his corporate masters. If Biden doesn’t pack the court, there will never be another ‘democratically elected’ president.

I suppose it won’t be enough to kickstart a revolution, but I understand what is happening, and we have to stop this shit from taking further root in Canada.

It’s “canada day”. I ain’t celebratin’.

Clipped Paul’s heinous toes yesterday and to my horror found that he had a fully infected pus oozing injury on one toe, so I dealt with that too, and briefly hung with the folks at their place. Paul’s not moving this weekend so I called Mike and told him to stand down.

TRIED to get hold of the docs office, they closed it without telling anyone at lunch yesterday. Faaaaack.

I remembered (riiiippp) why I wear clothes to bed. I sweat, stuff sticks together, I roll over and get a bruise from where two sets of skin rip apart. Aiyoille. Now I have a matching set on the undersides of both upper arms. SAD. 7316 words total on the new fic, 500 words scattered over the last three days on TB.

Very productive day – ran various errands, got my meds, picked up a glasses cord, wrote, only practiced a bit though which is standard when the graphomania sets in. Jeff says I’m talking a lot…. yup, do feel a little sped up. It’s a lovely sensation after having the energy of a sloth and the mental capacity of a kitten.

BUSTER IS SO DONE WITH THE CONE. It comes off early next week.

 

no way

There was absolutely no way I would permit another sleepless night, expecially since Jeff and I are supposed to breakfast with Keith and Alex this morning. I whacked myself with ten milligrams and slept like a cat until 5 am. YAY, MULTIPLE EVENTS OF YAY!  Jeff, however, is not in the most tip top shape so it’s still an open guess whether he’ll be able to join us. (I’ll let him not provide the details.) Keith’s going to call us when he’s levered Alex into the car.

Yesterday, 3500 words on Handyman Special, day before 2500 words, 250 so far today. Absolutely none of the last ten or so destiel stories I posted had explicit sex in them and this one is basically a sea bed of hand-wavy plot hosting a tsunami of schmoopy porn, and honestly I have ZERO clue where the hell any of this comes from. But at least I am not repeating, in describing the hella hot consensual sex, any of the most commonly used expressions OR anything I’ve previously written, and by god that’s an accomplishment even if none of you horrified old coots will give me my due as an ahem mistress of the genre.

from Fanlore:

Schmoop is used to describe fanfic with a very sweet romance between two characters. Some fans see schmoop as a further escalation of fluff.

Fluff is often used in fandom to characterize any pleasant, feel-good work. It is sometimes described as the opposite of angst.

None of this is preventing me from chipping away at Totally Boned.

overslept and underslept

awake until well after two

woke up at six thirty

thought

I can get up in a minute. Next I know it’s 9:30, Keith’s phoning. Took my pills, took my bp (121 over 91 not great but not hypertensive criziz IYKWIM). I’m shoving down breakfast so the pills have some company and boiling water for tea.

WHY WUZ I AWAKE

well I had graphomania yesterday, 3000 words on a new fanfic I SWEAR TO GOD IT JUST HAPPENED and it’s tentatively called Handyman Special and then I DRANK ICED TEA AT 9:30 AT NIGHT farewell sleep you were a good’un

Off to IHOP tomorrow with Keith and Alex.

more ice cream

Yes I know I shouldn’t. I am in that magical land past caring.

Everybody have the best day they can.

Joke from reddit:

two crabs are eating a billionaire at the bottom of the sea

one asks the other, ‘does this taste a little rich to you?’

Currently rewatching PoI again. We’re about six episodes into the first season. I heart Finch.

Medium is still very enjoyable and I am amazed at how many changes they can ring on the general plot structure… truly grand writing, and some of the best minor characters in any show, ever. I heart Manny and I wouldn’t kick Scanlon out of bed for eating fibreglass.

No paperwork is required of a 16 year old in Ontario who wishes to leave home. All you need is ID proving you’re 16 and up. It’s more complicated in BC but a judge can emancipate even younger if you have a compelling case and a sympathetic judge.

why me why vancouver (from 2014)

Why me? Why Vancouver?

For almost ten years, my husband’s request to be transferred to Vancouver by his employer sat in some HR equivalent of development hell. Nothing happened, and given the desirability of the posting and Paul’s place in the line, nothing was expected to. Then, three weeks after our family followed his employment from Montréal to Toronto, he got word to report for work in Vancouver in 72 hours’ time.

And he smiled. He’d applied for three weeks of vacation at exactly the same time, and couldn’t be forced to start work until it was finished. Thus began our family’s transition.
We put everything we owned in a truck trailer – including the vintage motorcycle and sidecar that Paul later sold so we could buy a house – and sent it on its way. We grabbed the kids and the cat and flew to Victoria and dropped the kids off with the grandparents, and then we spent two weeks lining up a car, a place to live and schooling and drivers licences.

We laboured in that little golden slot of weather that we get sometimes in late October, when the days are deliciously crisp and cool, the air smells wonderful, and the sun on the mountains makes you think you’re living in a fantasy novel.

We wondered why there was a bird we could only hear at intersections. We said Gag-lard-ee and Anna-kiss and locals choked on polite laughter. We found a house (after consulting an earthquake map for the safest locales) and got the kids settled, and began a love affair with Vancouver that continues to this day.
I can’t speak for the rest of my family, since time has kept us in the same city but no longer under one roof, but the shape and texture and beauty of the city has come to mean home as no other place ever has. Memories bubble up.

The turbaned Sikhs teasing the waitress to bring them chopsticks in the Chinese restaurant, “What are we, uncivilized?” The silent explosion of flowering shrubs each spring, the lilacs, the rhodos and the cherries. The way people leave their Diwali lights up until Christmas. The Babel of accents and voices on the transit; the kindnesses I have experienced on the two occasions I’ve had car trouble and strangers appeared out of nowhere with cell phones. The ‘four o’clock stripe’ at sunset in the winter, just about the only time you can reliably see the sun. The hundreds of kilometres of lovely places to walk and ride; the hills that nearly gut you in the summer and cause articulated buses to splay out like drunks in the winter.

Watching my son do Winter Karate Training on Jericho Beach, marching in his gi into the water; paddling among the herons on the Pitt River, and then nearly dying of the effort required to get back to the dock when the tide was making. Sunsets and sunrises of transfixing beauty. Dealing with raccoons, skunks, coyotes, deer and bears, and once, the authorities had to tranquilize a cougar, mere blocks from the house. Running into herons in every part of the city. Once I startled one as I came around a corner on my bicycle and nearly fell off as a six food wingspan abruptly flung wide in front of me. The stairs at Wreck Beach and the 60’s vibe that greets you at the bottom. Sadness at the ancient trees wrecked by a storm in Stanley Park; joy to see the statue of Lord Stanley the first time and read the beautiful words inscribed on it. Asking Headwater to come play on the back deck for my brother’s birthday, and what an amazing concert that was.

There are things I’ve learned to dislike about Vancouver, but complaints are cheap. I’ve learned to love my splendid city, to want to know more about her and the people who were here before the settlers came. It was a happy accident that brought me here, and I’ll be staying here as long as I can. Vancouver has given me a church community I cherish, co-workers whom I now consider my closest friends, and music and love and really phenomenal craft beer in abundance.

It seems strange to have been born on one coast only to find my heart’s home on the other, but Vancouver is a place that has taught me to respect the playful grip coincidence has on any human life.

the evidence is in

God still loves me and Jeff but Peggy’s doing the heavy lifting.

oh yeah the tourtiere and the strawberry rhubarb pie were excellent

Here’s me all ready to breathe fire on Dave D asking him on the phone if he is going to get out to vote for the mayor of Toronto yesterday and with his classic restraint he advises me that he already voted in the advance polls.  I misunderstood, he’d been out and voted earlier that day. LOL

this one’s for the fam

 

Peggy is threatening tourtiere

OH GOD will I survive?  She’s from northern Quebec, of course she knows how to make a tourtiere of note.

She is also threatening the last of the strawberry rhubarb pie. Jeff, reading this, is wiping off drool. I await delivery with high hopes.

Jeff and I were witnesses to some of Paul’s paperwork. I thank Lois and Ruth for stickhandling this, it never would have happened without them.

The ukulele reappeared. It was exactly where I left it, in the music room. If I had lost it I would be sad, but when Mike called I told him and he just laughed and laughed when I explained I lost something in my house and he said…. that’s my every day for months.

So…. heard from Mike. He nearly died yesterday, he went kayaking in Pitt Lake. The inflatable kayak burst and a rain storm came up and HE JUST BARELY MADE IT BACK TO SHORE, his arms were still shaking occasionally when he called me. He watched a satellite video just to ensure that he hadn’t been dreaming about how fast the storm blew up and nope, it happened like he said. Anyway, he sounded quite chipper, the way you always do when you avoid death by drowning by inches.

Buster’s leg wound from the surgery is healing nicely but he’s a long way from having the cone off. He completely freaked out when Lois and Paul came over yesterday for the document signing, it was rough for him. It’s possible he was confused over the car sound and couldn’t figure out who was coming and going with the Echo coming and going but me not being in it. Lois will return the car today and fly home, and she will be missed.

The battery on the laptop now discharges to 50 percent when left fully charged but unplugged overnight. I wish you could easily replace the batteries in these fuckers. I’ve pinged a repair shop for help; should be about 150 to 200 dollars.