Fireworks

Katie K had a bag of fireworks, so I dropped by her place last night, and in the pile of dirt conveniently left behind her place by the construction of the ‘group of Seven themed condos next door which has displaced one of the largest crow rookeries in BC”, we set them off.  Then when I got up this morning there was a facebook question asking my first memory… which was fireworks.  About some things, anyway, I am consistent.

Watched the first episode of Heroes last night.  I am looking forward to seeing the rest of it.

Zombie dream

As I am being chased (with no partic’lar sense of urgency) up and down a corridor, which is always like a corridor in an apartment I used to live in, being crooked and with doors coming off at odd angles, I’m thinking, “and just the other night I commented to Katie K that I haven’t had a nightmare in years”.  Moments later I’m awake thinking, “My God, those were the SLOWest moving zombies I’ve ever seen!”

Happy Halloween!

I’m wearing a black widow outfit (self-assembled) to the office.  Let’s see if I can survive the boot madness.  I hate those boots, but they are the only vaguely fetish-y ones that I have.

Sundry and Various

To address any aspect of my personal life in my blog, consisting as it does at the moment of a bundle of indignities, gripes, aches, bitches, whines and bs, would be merely foolish, so I will try to herd my thoughts into lusher pastures.

My mother’s arm is much improved.  The burning is greatly reduced.

I have forwarded pictures of my mandolin to Tom MacMurray, local LOLcats dude, and expect to see pics of his Piggy Sue and Mawgey playing mandolin SOON.  (This is something to be anticipated with pleasure).

Deb sent me this.  Don’t watch unless you have the speakers blasting and ten free minutes!

There there, Canadian investors…. don’t worry about the subprime crisis in the States. 

Delightful Chick style pamphlet on what to do when the Elder Gods are coming! 

Deadwood Redux Redux

Mike, bless him, has prevented me from not seeing the sun this day by calling me and asking me to join him for dinner. Daughter Katie is so angry with me that our Mexico trip is now in jeopardy, such are the hazards of a misused word, and frankly, I’m not sure, in my present choleric and dismissive mood, that I care that much. To be frank even further, I’d be 2 thousand dollars up if she bails on me, as she has frequently done of late.

And the Deadwood series is done. Like Firefly. Delivered before its time, dead untimely, to be much mourned.

Deadwood Redux

Just watched the end of the second season.  Tim Olyphant, who was so joyous and physically pleasing in the first season, is now hewn from granite, with cedar spacers.  If it was possible for a man to walk stiffer without appearing robotic I’d be amazed.  Ian McShane continues to amuse and amaze.  Wish the musical scenes actually made a tiny effort to sync the music to the actions.  Noise coming from the soundtrack when the instrument is not actually be held in a playing position is the kind of thing that gets up Tonstant Watcher’s nose.  Onward to season three.