Safe congregation policy

As part of our safe congregation policy, everybody in a voluntary or paid position with my church has to be inspected for felonious behaviour by the RCMP.  I had been putting it off (and why not, yecch) but this morning I assembled the letter which allows me to be inspected at no charge, my i.d. and my amour-propre and hied myself off to the Deer Lake RCMP Detachment.

It took 10 minutes.  I was the only person there.  Honestly, I thought it was going to be quite a production, but it was trivial.

Next, I hied myself off to Village de Valeurs, where I purchased a dress, a blouse, and something to replace my bathroom which does not actually have enough fabric to be a modest garment, given my current girth.  I am sure Jeff will be relieve to see less of me as I stagger out of my room in the morning in my zombie like quest for caffeine.

I’m back home and waiting for my new purchases to get out of the washer.

It’s pouring rain; the garden is very happy.

Cool runnings

Yesterday I made a run for Wal-Mart (first time in 8 years) to get coolant for Lady Miss T at work.  She said she’d overheated on that bloody great Gaglardi hill so I said, “let us go to your car and check your coolant!” and like, there wasn’t any.  Her brother, who is, like, the anti-Jeff, had told her he’d checked the coolant and he dinnnnt.  Lie or mistake, it was pretty typical.   I looked at her and said, “You are not moving this car.  Let us go talk to beautiful Bossie and see if I can’t get a hall pass.”  You may infer from the fact that it took me 40 minutes from door to door that my observation of the speed limit during this excursion was notional and inconsistent.  SFU to Lougheed Mall and back, including a purchase….yeah.

Day before yesterday, I had a brief and hormonally truncated visit to Paul and Keith’s (Paul said something innocuous and I burst into tears and ran away, aren’t I special, but at least Paul and Keith had the decency to shrug it off) and while I, tears still drying on my face and clutching my mandolin, was escaping to my car, Paul’s brand new neighbour said something that stopped me in my tracks.  She said, “I like your purple car”, and her male companion (actually her daughter’s agent) said, “Yeah, that’s a 94 Ford Probe GT and I think that’s the version with the special paint. I’ve owned four Probes, they are my favourite car.”  AN HOUR LATER I pried myself away.  Much restored, I went on my way home.

Grr

I checked out the video I took of Headwater, and while it is quite nice, all you can freakin’ hear is me HUMMING along with  them.  Note to self.  When recording gods, don’t make like a boob.  GRRRRR

I light a candle for those experiencing difficulties with their love lives

I send you all a big hug and hope the new normal isn’t too lonely.

Jeff and Paul and the kids and I had schnitzel dinner and True Blood last night.  Happy sigh.  I love hanging out with Katie.  Keith is turning into a grumpy old man prematurely, but Katie is still all kinds of bushytailed bounce.

Pride was awesome, as always

I never know how much to say about it.  I took transit downtown, and couldn’t find the marshalling area for the BCCLA because, ha ha, I was given the wrong information twice by a volunteer.  I went and stood by the starting line, with all the dykes on bykes, and watched a partially racially motivated fist fight almost start.  Yup, at Pride.  Stupidest thing I ever saw.

The parade was an hour late getting going, which was cruel – my feet hurt even before it began.  Then my group went by and I squeezed through the onlookers like a little pumpkin seed and danced and boogied and fist pumped and queen waved my way down the street.  Recognized two sets of people, BOTH coworkers (current and former).  It’s amazing how you feel after half a million people smile at you.

Came home and Keith is sitting downstairs with this girl he met through work, who’s an artist and quite pretty.  We watched Ponyo and then I went upstairs and crashed.

Monday I didn’t do anything except loaf and laze.  Oh, and I did July expenses – I was embarrassed that it took me to the middle of July to do May and June expenses so I actually did it in a timely way this month.

My family can never be too big.

That’s what Gramma Zooss always used to say.  Here’s a couple of Brazilian men who really live it.

The Vikings had a saying.  Better a good foster son than a bad son.

It’s really difficult to describe just how amazing Jeff’s birthday bash was, but it had the following going for it:

1.  The weather which was nothing short of spectacular.

2. The awning – what a lifesaver that turned out to be.

3. HEADWATER.  A simply stunning performance by three extremely talented and loveable young men.  I mean it, to have the pleasure of these guys as working guests was great.  We bought their albums, we laughed our asses off at their between song patter, we listened in rapt silence to their originals and their covers, we loved every minute of it.

4. Wonderful friends and fabulous conversation.

5.  Rob and Kathy showed up with their two kids (6 and 3) and I had to yell at them like an ogress to get them off my neighbours’ lawn, but they forgave me.  Little girl and I danced and drew pictures and played with the thunder tube.

6. Walking into the games room and finding Jeff pogoing to the Dandy Warhols with a small child. My personal high point of the festivities.

7. Jeff excusing me from kitchen duty so I just got a bunch of pre prepped food, which worked out fine.

8. A cooler full of brewskis.

9.  Did I mention Headwater?

10.  Just about everybody who confirmed attendance came, and all the important people – the kids and Paul, Mike and Rozo, Tom and Peggy, Kevin and Rebecca, and Rob and his family, came, and they enjoyed themselves muchly as well.

I crashed out early – I started drinking at noon and between that and the sun I made it to about seven pm before I faded.  Now I have to go have a substantial breakfast and get myself to the staging area for the Pride Parade, as I’m marching with the BCCLA today.  Thank the water cycle it’s overcast, I don’t think I could stand to get fried again.

Sundry and various part 243

Editorial on the Harper Gov and the long form census.

Ceegars are back.

Yet more evidence of the appalling lack of compatibility between men and women.

Turkey doesn’t help you sleep.  Fat keeps you awake.

I suppose if I told anybody I wish I had darker skin, they wouldn’t believe me.

I can’t improve on the headline, or the sentiment.  Squirrel, it’s what’s for dinner.

Paul Giamatti as Mr K?

I think Sherrod is doing the right thing.

The voices behind the games.

The Mind Meld.

I am a terrible parent

When one of my children says, “I was tripping ballz the other day,” – I am sorry, I CANNOT keep a straight face. I crack up.   The internet meme “tripping ballz” is not that old, but I have to say it’s one of my current faves.  (dates to about 2003 but came to favour recently).

Speaking of the mildly hallucinatory, Guillermo del Toro and James Cameron are going to make At the Mountains of Madness in Three Effing Dee.  So there.