The chocolate chip banana pistachio bread is all gone

ScaryClown was here last night to ingest food, beer and ZULU in that order.  We had fun.  I have seen that movie at least twenty times, and every time it blows me away.  Keith was here too.

Today I am being different versions of myself.  Off to a meeting in PoCo this afternoon.  Perhaps I will go to some kind of social media Tweetup tonight but then again, maybe not.  I’m finishing up a couple of songs, you know how it is when you’re hacking away at the ends of things and they take slightly more time than anticipated; at the same time starting things seems to go much faster.  nautilus3 is scowling.  Then she smiles.

I’m getting the playing callouses back on my fingers.

A friend just emailed me a job listing that sounds perfect for me.  I heart my friends.

Jeff cleaned the furnace filter.  Unless I can come up with a better word than disgusting, it will have to do.  The furnace filter appears to have been manufactured sometime prior to the dawn of time.

nautilus3 will like this. It’s the Gordon Mackay catalogue from early in the last century.  The colours and textures and design are wonderful.  Colin forwarded the link via facebook.

small world

I follow Salim Jiwa on twitter and regularly go to his site vancouverite.com – he’s a professional independent internet reporter, which makes him kinda cool in my view.  He doesn’t represent me personally in the information collection business, but ANYBODY who is trying to make a go of independent reporting, especially if that person makes their political biases known, is okay by me.  I know people who don’t have much use for him because of his reporting (“self-serving, incomplete and useless” were among the characterizing words :)) of the Air India bombing (for which I got call up papers as a potential juror, as did Patricia, and this is long before I met her), but you can expect anybody in the court system to pretty much loathe anybody with “Press” tucked into their hatband.  As I have now spent a good portion of my life for the last 5 years trying to come up with ‘news’ (only had one scoop, but o well) on a daily basis, I have some sympathy for how bleeping hard it is, and thus am somewhat more prepared to cut slack.

Anyway, I saw somebody mentioned on his site the other day, and as soon as I saw the name I thought, “I grew up with that kid in Ottawa, except he’s a dirty great grown man now with a really really fine ‘stache.”  So I messaged Salim and yup, he lived across from me when I lived on Dunham in Cardinal Heights. He even remembers me.  I remember him, he was one of the sweetest kids I ever knew.  It’s no surprise he grew up to be an RCMP officer; we grew up living next door to the Chief of Police.  The reason I know he remembers me is because I messaged Salim, and he contacted Dan, and then he emailed me.  Thanks Salim!

So yeah, small world.

In other news, The Reader is a harrowing movie, (either because of the subject matter or because it has some of the longest pauses ever outside of a film adaptation of Pinter) but you get to see David Kross naked (and he’s cute) and you get to see lots and lots of Kate Winslet naked.  Yeah. I remember saying, “She breastfed her kids!” (She has two).

2009 roundup, my good wishes for this year 2010, and I’m outta here for a week

January I went to Conflikt II, one of the last times I saw John.  I bought him a meal, and that makes me happy; there’s video of him from the con, and that makes me happy, too.  I started dating a nice man, but he some months later abruptly stopped calling me when I said something as a joke to one of his friends.  It was too bad; his trailer site down by the border is one of the best kept secrets in the lower mainland, and I did like his friends and they enjoyed my music.  Once I tried to kiss him and his dog got in the way.  I would give anything to have pictures of his mastiff cross Sammy getting a big smack in the jowls from me.  Given that we didn’t so much as kiss for the rest of our dating career, he wasn’t the right guy for me, but I also know he had had a horrific divorce and might have been dating because his friends were bugging him to.  I think kindly of him.

February I sent Valentine’s cards to my coworkers.  If I am going to do it again this year, I should probably start writing the poems now.  I saw David Byrne while wearing a holter monitor, and if that isn’t one of the most baby boom quotes ever, well, I am in the wrong demographic bulge. I got a holter monitor because I had chest pain, triggering an ambulance call, which pain was, apparently, stress related.  I also got the last of my hepatitis shots and distributed biscotti at 4 in the morning at Conflikt II.

March I visited with Wendybird,  I also got Miss Margot, two days after seeing her picture for the first time.  I did it; I fell in love with another creature because I saw her picture.  I really feel like she was destined to come and live with me, and now, when she sits nose to nose with Eddy on Jeff’s bed and bats Gizmo’s tail while he does the cat equivalent of rolling his eyes, she’s just one of the family.  I can hear her snoring right now.  I also bugged my dad enough that he coughed up a single family story.  Bwa ha ha!  Paul and I got a great visit in with cousin Ruth and Katie read the Sookie Stackhouse books after being exposed to True Blood.  Paul had what he found out later was going to be his last alone time with his brother John; they sang and played together, which they hadn’t done in ages.

April John was struck off his motorcycle by a woman in Victoria.  I made a canonical list of my songs (topping out at 130 – the total is now 152 so I’ve either written 22 songs in the last 8 months or I remembered some I’d earlier forgotten or some combination thereof) .  I had a hissy fit and tried to bail on living with Jeff; with some effort (more on his end than mine) it didn’t happen and all I can say, sitting in my living room in my quiet little house in Burnaby, is thanks Jeff.  I also thought about renting a trailer site in White Rock.  Glad I didn’t do that either.

May Jeff and I got an eviction notice, and John died 15 minutes before we got to the hospital,  in a one two punch over two days that drove me insane for about two months.  I looked okay, I sounded okay, and I was definitely, hopelessly and pretty much every minute I was conscious – not okay.  Carrie stayed with us a while. There were horrible bad words exchanged with Paul’s relatives about the memorial service, and I’d like to publicly state that not talking about that on my blog was very hard to do.  I gave notice at work.  I couldn’t concentrate anyway.  At the end of May we found where we are living now thanks to Paul’s timely information.  I thank Mike most reverently for the material and moral support he provided to me after John’s death;  Jeff’s love and support was just about the only thing that kept me going some days.

June I left my job after a lovely going away party; Miss Margot was neutered; we moved in here, and the cats were very, very happy to have a nice big back deck and a yard and alleyway to explore.  Went to John’s Memorial Pondfilk and it was lovely.

July the pinball games came to live in the basement.  I wrote a lot of songs down.  Jerome and Shannon had a little boy.  My little cousin Alyssa turned one. I attended Patricia’s Cavalcade of Cheese.  Went to Wreck Beach with Katie and her friends and Mike, and it was just about the most enjoyable day ever.  I decompressed a great deal.

August me and Jeff and Mike went to the Pretenders and it was the best outdoor concert I’ve ever been to.  Read the most recent translations of Rumi and the Epic of Gilgamesh and was moved to tears by both.  Paul and I visited Unca Dave at the Cancer Lodge.  That would be the second last time I saw him alive, and the last time for Paul.

September I went to the Jericho beach folk club a couple of times and was treated to awesome concerts there.  We emptied the last of the storage lockers and thereby saved ourselves some bucks.  I met Vilma, Mike’s new GF, and found out I had a bunch more songs tucked away someplace, so my lifetime total of songs crept up another notch.  Katie and Keith and I went to Victoria to say goodbye to Unca Dave. I bought a Kaossilator after jamming with Brian C and Mike on a fabulous evening (which Katie also attended, and during which I heard Jeff and Keith, watching something funny downstairs, laugh so hard they made the house shake.)  I started getting more involved with church.

October I had THE BEST HOLIDAY EVER in Ontario.  I got totally energized by what happened to me; seeing Deb, Jan, Chipper, Catherine and Tammy made me so happy I nearly exploded with it, and seriously, when I am having a rough day, I think about that holiday and FEEL BETTER.  Boingboing.net ran an item on lampreys and I used it as an opportunity to drive traffic to Jim Palmer’s Lampreyland site (see sidebar).  I moved minced moose to the minister.  (Honestly, you thought I’d get through a whole year of recap without once mentioning moose?  Whose blog is this?).  I did one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life, and I can’t talk about it publicly.

November I turned 51 the day my Unca Dave died.  Keith said, Now I’ve lost two cool uncles in a single year.  I had one amazing date with a guy who never called me back.  I had another amazing date with a guy who never called me back.  I spend a lot of time wondering what the hell is wrong with me.  I applied for my old job.

December I avoided Christmas but not family get togethers, and started dating a really cool guy with a very chill dog.  We have in the short time we’ve been dating met our exes and some of our kids. I auditioned for a band and didn’t get it.  I emailed a woman who’s putting together women only rehearsal space and that appears to be happening in January, but we’ll see.   I learned how to clean Margot’s eye gunk properly and trimmed her whiskers, which were pushing into her eyes when she was trying to eat, a most unhappy and unsanitary state of affairs.  And I greeted the new year with snores, as evidenced by me mout’ bein’ as dry as a sand trap when I woke up this morning.

In summary; 2009 was a transitional year.  I quit looking for a boyfriend (this one will either work out or I will quit looking); I got a lot of work done but not nearly enough to satisfy me; I reconnected with church and formally rejoined; I found out what I’m like when somebody close to me dies and I really didn’t enjoy the learning;  I learned a great deal of family history and each fragment of it falls into place in such a way that the fabric of life is made richer and stronger; I realized that my gifts are greater than my challenges.

I send a big hug out to all my relations, friends and readers; I hope 2010 is a year full of enticing prospects and the riches of family, work, contentment, honour and playful creativity.  And biscotti.

Now it is with some trepidation that I announce I’ll be intermedia fasting for the rest of the week.  So, no blogging, no tweeting, no facebooking, no livejournal, no compulsively checking email.  I’ll see you back here on the 8th.

Jesus is coming. Or not.

You know how I said that Jesus is late for his appointment???  Personally I think he’s a no show.  The Kingdom of God and the Immanence of Christ are right here, right now.  You may call it something else, but you can’t wait for Jesus; he’s already here.  That’s why I always thought the Rapture was bad theology; it’s just an excuse to sit on your ass (among many, I have my own excuses and I don’t need yours) while the poor suffer.

Now we know why Jesus is late!

When he finally makes it past the abortionist’s curette, the Christians will claim this is his second visit, and the Jews will get all stabby because they will say this is the first time he came to the party.  The Muslims won’t take any proof that either group offers, even as Messiah chews through Jerusalem like Taz on crystal meth (remember he promised us a sword… when he bails on the Temple and starts pulling prostitutes out of their cribs and healing their AIDS, and then publicly blasting the rabbis for their lack of care of the poor, what a glad day that will be!!!)  And Isa PBUH (Jesus, Yeshuah) is a Messiah for Muslims, he’s just not the son of God, just to make it even more confusing.  Crazy times.

The essentials of messianic thought in Judaism. Ganked from Wikipedia, sorry.

Belief in the eventual coming of the moshiach…is part of the minimum requirements of Jewish belief. In the Shemoneh Esrei prayer, recited three times daily, we pray for all of the elements of the coming of the moshiach: ingathering of the exiles;

*ed note… Bonnie, Alan, are you guys going to live in Israel soon? If you can hold off, I’d like that.

restoration of the religious courts of justice;

*ed note. Bleaugh.  Because, you know, justice for women and children sucks SO BAD.

an end of wickedness, sin and heresy;

*ed note; right about then I started breathing again, because at this rate the Messiah can only return in the middle of a wasteland, the rest of us having croaked.

reward to the righteous;

*dunno what that means, but it sounds good

rebuilding of Jerusalem;

*urban renewal as a religious prescription?  Kewl.

restoration of the line of King David;

*Read King Jesus on that topic, yes indeedy.

and restoration of Temple service.

*once again, urban renewal mashup with religion.  And it sounds like a Tweet from translink.ca. Interesting. But with all of these restrictions, I don’t need to worry about a Jewish Messiah any time soon. After all, in the days of the Apostles, they said it would be any minute, but that just reminds me of a joke, “God is it true that to you a thousand years are like a minute and a million dollars is like a penny?”  “Yes, my child.” “Can I have a penny?”  “Just a minute.”

Ah, religion!  My fave.

Plotting and planning

Coffee’s up, I’ll go grab it in a minute…. here’s my New Year wishes….

Revellers, depart with care
From chill 2009
2010’s embrace may be
Nowhere near as fine
Approach with caution, friends close by
and plans all carefully laid.
Some depart this year with glee
And some with great cost paid.
Unemployment, lack and dearth
Attend some of us nightly
Easy, then, to love the earth
and live upon it lightly.
And to your fellow creatures be
as kindly as you may
And blessed be in all you seek
Next year in work and play.

Jeff gets a half day off, which is pleasant.  We’ll probably find something appropriate to watch.

I made turkey soup with barley, and butter turkey (store bought sauce) yesterday.  It was yummy.  So, no boring roast turkey in the fridge, yes; it has all been transformed back in the food…  I can hear Catherine chiding me with amusement, as I put bread stuffing in the bird and that does not improve the stock.  Next year for sure I will do the stuffing on the side.  There’s less waste and better stock, so I will do as she advises.

I will make my New Year Resolutions again; I feel like Pinky and the Brain.  “Same thing we do every night…”

Brain empty, repost

Keith sent me the following email, so I am reposting it.  The apple don’t fall far from the tree, as a rule.

A Regular Canadian Family.

… Aren’t they cute? Not even remotely.

Check this out: Montreal mafia Don’s son killed

This is so awesome I have to write some of my take on the yarn.
The dead guy is the son of a man named Vito Corleo-excuse me Rizzuto. Vito is doing a stretch in the USA for racketeering, and quote “being present at” unquote the murder of three made men in 1981. Vito is due to be handed back over to Canadian authorities in 2012.
This guy’s Wikipedia page is unbelievable. Apparently the Montreal Mafia is huge. As will be the likely response to the slaying of Nick Rizzuto. These guys have a larger geographical territory than any of the legendary/mythical Five Families, and apparently while nominally under the Bonnanno banner, the Rizzuto rival any Families in money and influence.

The cherry on the cake for me is the fact that Vito may in time be extradited to Italy in connection to- what do I hear? Murder? Nope. Extortion? Nuh-uh. Bribery of public officials? Not even close. Alleged money laundering in the finances of a public works project to build a fucking bridge. From Sicily to mainland Italy.

All we need now is a witch doctor to resurrect Mario Puzo, so he can make a movie out of this man’s story. Or maybe the crew that made Bon Cop Bad Cop could do it.