no family brekkie this am

Katie called last night and I realized I didn’t have whatever on board to make it unless it was JUST going to be bacon and eggs, so we reset to Katie’s place next week.

I’ve had a very rough couple of days regarding feeling like everything I write and play is CRRRRRRRAP but this is a Known Bug, so que l’on continue as Lucien Bouchard remarked when they cut off his leg for flesh eating disease.

Fortunately going out on a sunny day and having a very amusing time at the Fish Place (there were many children – one of the babbies screamed so loud while the server was close to her that she literally forgot our drink orders and came back to ask us for them and Jeff and I were giggling and wincing at the same time) fixed me up so that I’m no longer feeling like a battalion of tatterdemalion scallions in a galleon.

I try and I try not to, but mocking Catholics on twitter is kinda part of my brand.

What is my brand?

 

lol

48616 words

Took Jeff to lunch – I was thinkin’ burritos but we had to pass Cockney Kings Fish and Chips to get there and reader, we turned left at fish. I had the halibut salad – six oz of fresh halibut grilled not one nanosecond longer than necessary over a bed of fresh greens, and Jeff had halibut and chips but reserved one piece and the cole slaw and some of the chips for a second meal, which was downright thrifty of him since I would have gone through those two pieces of fried fish like that darned Tasmanian Devil.

I’ve been editing – mostly – today, but added some clarification to the chapter ‘bathroom break’ so that’s pushed the word count up a bit.

Paul was in a glider crash last weekend. He’s got a yellow bruise on his left sphenoid bone but was otherwise not injured, and at no point lost consciousness or was concussed. The pilot was not injured at all, apparently. The aircraft’s a write-off, and it was a club plane, so insured, but club insurance will suffer. That’s as much as I wish to recount.

However, that news pales, as far as Paul was concerned in telling me, with Tina, one of Janice’s cats, needing to be euthanized in consequence of cancer last week. Paul was openly distraught and saying that he had no idea how attached he’d grown to her (he lives in Seattle half the week, so I’m not entirely sure how this could have come as a surprise – hominids get used to the people and things and critters they live with, after all) and that he could have been better behaved toward her. Now I’m the ex, and I be crabby in some respects, but honestly that seems like a prompt from the universe to get on the phone and talk to people you miss, and make plans to seem them as you haven’t for a while. Whether Paul will see it that way remains to be seen.

Me? I have been calling my friends since I heard about that.

I am mad at Jared Padalecki and it’s time he went to rehab. Punching employees of your own bar while hosed? Fucksticks.

Buster did not try to sneak out

SO MANY SKULLS lots and lots of skull masks

There were at LEAST 10 teenagers, mostly girls, who came out for candy, and I GAVE IT TO THEM. The people who bitch about teenagers begging for candy are fucking dolts, and I reject them. Who else is going to tell me that they love my hat?

Allegra wears the octopus her mama gave her

We have left over candy. Jeff is quietly urging me to keep hiding it.

Same thing we do everyday; seek coffee, try to write.

 

pumpkin carved candy purchased

Gelis and Nicholas scratch track.

I stuck the pumpkin out front this morning so people could smile at it on their way to work.

Buster is really really really tired of the cone of shame. He’s getting noisier in the morning and he just wants to cuddle all the time. We’ve taken it off so he could at least wash his front paws but THEN he wants to clean his sore eye, and NOPE. Back it goes. Saturday can’t come fast enough for our animal companion.

There’s a load of laundry in the dryer and coffee’s been made. The day hath commenced.

Must buy glowsticks for the rest of the decoration but unfortunately there’s a bus strike, or is there? Nope, starts tomorrow. All good for today.

 

fleeble fleeble fleeble

Shopping this morning. I completely spaced when the place opens so we stooged about in the car for 15 minutes. I don’t have anything planned but I imagine Jeff would have preferred to be elsewhere.

My multiyear experiment in reducing my racist, sexist and thoughtless atheist remarks is not concluded, but declared a qualified success subject to frequent continuing ed, as will be evidenced by these pages, or so I wish to believe. It appears now that the real challenge is – despite my own rapid descent into debility – getting rid of ableist thinking and speech. Part of it is that English is full as an egg with ableist turns of phrase. The more I’m looking, and allowing myself to feel it, the more oppressive it is. I would like to be out from under it.

A town I wrote about as a residence for a character in a fanfic is on fire. Yup, Thousand Oaks, a suburb of LA 40 miles from downtown, is on fire. It is home to over a hundred thousand people.

Hollywood North may swell with the outflow. So many productions will be moving it will be kinda rude. Of course, then Netflix, staggering under MORE THAN 10 BILLION DOLLARS IN DEBT (I mean, think about it folks, some witless mofo in a 6 thousand dollar suit okayed a company that depends on electricity and someone else’s internet to even be possible to carry 10 billion with a b dollars of debt on what’s essentially a climate change bubble) will expire in the arms of Disney and after their efficient bean counters and diligent lawyers scythe through their to-film list there will be a little bit of shaking going on. So maybe Vancouver will benefit, but only for a bit. And filming got screwed up here a couple of summers back, the summer the sky was broken. Actually, it’s like 16 billion.

I mean. I’m pissed off, because I like Netflix, and I want Cheezies, and I can never eat them.again. Fortunately Jeff threw chocolate croissants in the cart so I’m okay for that.

No progress on HOTM. Much mental progress on other things, though – I’m working my way through to a conclusion to the latest chapter.

In the future, if our grandchildren read our blogs or anything, they’ll say DID THEY EVER FUCKING SHUT UP ABOUT FOOD

Sísele (pronounced SEESS e le) is the Halq’eméylem word for grandmother. The word for great grandparent is a compendium of consonants no English speaker could approach without months of practice. Heavy sigh. At least I can say I live in Burnaby – land between Stolo and Slaywat.

ordinary morning

48515 words

 

some fool is winding his rice rocket up to 8500 and whipping up and down the side streets, it’s ridiculous at this hour

Dishwasher’s running; morning has come.

Rich people in the Vallejo fire aren’t telling their gardeners and housekeepers that they’ve evacuated. As a consequence poor people without transit are going to work and finding out they can’t get out.

 

FUCK RICH PEOPLE

Another gorgeous day

Jeff very kindly took me to brekky. Feeling better today although scarcely ‘motivated.’ I’ve made an appt for the doc to get my meds renewed. They seem to be working – my body seems to have adapted and my bp is down quite a bit.

The Vallejo Fire is now under the Carquinez Bridge, which is going to need a thorough inspection because fire under concrete bridges as old as I am is bad bad news.

Buster gets the cone off and the stitches out in a little under a week.

lovely walk with Alex and Katie

We went for a walk in Oakalla today; it was perfect fall weather, the crunch of leaves, and Alex being endlessly entertaining and then on cue, quite crabby. He’s stressed out from the start of school and being constantly told to be quiet because the downstairs neighbours think he’s too noisy.

Somebody’s letting of BearScares and I’m happy Buster’s inside. We took off the cone of shame long enough to clean his feet and then put it back on.

48419 word count

pretty much recovered

my flu shot’s been making my arm too sore to sleep on, (even last night) so I’m awake too early.

But the sun was GLORIOUS yesterday so we got our asses off the couch and walked to 7/11 for milk and treats. pOp’s another year older so we called him to tell him how old he is and his response was a variation on ‘I got out of bed this morning, thank you’ but it gave Jeff a chance to catch them up.

I’m really enjoying S2 Kominsky method. After Romancing the Stone, catching up to Kathleen Turner, fine and fat and utterly unconcerned about it, acting as Kominsky’s (Michael Douglas) ex-wife (their exchange of blistering but dryly delivered insults was ai yi)  was one of the best things about the last episode. Also cuddles.

Buster is not happy about not going outside; he stands at the door and stares and stares and stares.

pain cry?

things are not lovely, but it’s all about attitude

I had an idea recently that made me need to think some more. I’ve been looking for happiness. What I need to have is hope. I think it will have to do as a substitute. I do have hope. I have lots of things to look forward to, in the near future as well as the far future.