More photos

Cousin John is a prolific artist. Oh, I mentioned that already, didn't I?

Here is further proof:

A creature very much feared and hated by my Teen ever since he got stung on the earlobe @ age 2.5.

Rather a nasty fierce-looking insect, innit?



all rights reserved John Gillett 2007

Time to catch up on blogging

It's so weird...working Sat-Sun-Mon-Tues! My entire mental calendar is out of whack!

I got home on Sunday after a 10-hour shift and was completely wiped out, burnt, sore feet... but I made dinner, ate it like a ravenous rat, and promptly fell asleep.

The second 5:30 a.m. wakeup (this morning) was not as bad as Sunday's rude and much-too-early awakening.

All photographs copyright John Gillett, all rights reserved 2007

The sun was coming up as I left the house at 6:35 a.m. today and the air was, shall we say, chilly. And I was wearing sandals and capri pants.

About a dozen steps from my front door I thought, "Oh shit, it's kinda cold." Then I looked at the pristine, clear, pale-blue morning sky and decided I would live through the 17-minute walk to work. So I walked up the road, glancing right and left at the enormously thick mist hovering over the fields to the right and the golf course to the left. It was very beautiful and I wished my camera were not fuxored. I usually carry it everywhere, but not in the past 6 weeks or so, since it stopped working for no obvious reason.

I need to get it fixed.

No, I need a better camera that can take a big honking lens like the kind my cousin John uses.

I have posted one picture of his on the other blog, but he regularly sends out several beautiful photos via email, and so I will post a couple, because he said I could and I promised attribution and copyright info. Don't any of ya'll dare copy these pictures, because a member of our venerable family WILL hunt you down and kill you. Make no mistake.

My cousin is a family man and I doubt he has much time to pursue criminals, but I don't mind doing it.

(Lattegirl does Bounty hunting?)

Suffice it to say, my cousin John takes absolutely incredible photos.

I seem to have deleted some of them accidentally from my inbox without having saved them.

Send me more, John!

Suddenly lonely

It's gotta be the music.

Buddha, the trucker dude, has been gone for about 10 days and I have been busy and not missing him or anything else in all that time.

All rights reserved by photographer.


Until just a few minutes ago, when I caught some country music on TV just before I turned it off for the night, and suddenly I missed him.

I had to think about this. Him, or someone?

No, him.

Fuck me. I must be getting soft in my old age.

He will be really surprised when I tell him this, because we'd already talked about breaking up. Like, the day after he went on his last road trip. I think he knew I was unhappy with him, because he brought it up. "Do you still want to see me when I get back?"

But I would rather be with him tonight and NOT be getting up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to handle hotel guests.

Never happy, am I?

It will pass.

And away they go

The geese are leaving town.

Let me know when they get to where you live.

Domestic and professional goddess

I'm coming off 3 days of training at the new job and it's Friday but it's not really the weekend for me...

Because I have to work icky, long shifts for the next four days at the new job and still fit in 3600 words of translation by Wednesday end of day!

By mid-afternoon today I was sleepy as hell and wishing I could nap. But I had a project to put out by 3 PM and I did it. Then I got a ride to and from Canuck Rubber (Canadian Tire, for those not in the know) with neighbour A. because I was lucky enough to catch her as she pulled out of her parking spot across the way from my front door.

I think my napping days are over.

Undeterred by fatigue, I am presently making pea soup and will shortly be chopping stuff for a vegetable-fried rice. The Teen is out for the evening, which is frankly a relief.

Other than that, I have a sink full of dishes, so I guess I'm not the goddess I make myself out to be in my title up there.

But the dishes are sitting there because I have no dish soap left and am quite flat broke.

Am waiting for Friend B. to call and bring money. (That in itself is a long story for another day.)

I don't think I mentioned that I made stovetop blueberry jam a couple of nights ago.

Still a Goddess.

Tired, though. Guess it will take me a couple/three weeks to get used to this beat, as they say in French Quebec (le beat).

I don't think I'll be able to stay awake long enough for an ep of the Sopranos tonight. The one I saw last night was when Tony had just become the capo, and youch! some of the subject matter is touchy. And violent. But saddest of all, to me, was Carmela and Tony at that point in their marriage (not that they didn't go through more of the same later). What a amoral pig Tony's character was/is.

The Teen and I were discussing a different angle to the series ending. Was it possible that the blackout meant that Carmela, Tony, Meadow and AJ really did get wiped out in that restaurant?

Just wondering.

Friday night thoughts... before the penultimate Big Day at the job... working 8 hours with the Big Boss by my side, watching and analyzing.

Not nervous. Not. I can do this.

I'll let you know tomorrow how it goes... here or at the main blog.

UPDATE: Off to bed, just wanted to say I actually managed to do all my dishes. Goddess! Totally!

Hotel stories!

Notice I didn't say "motel stories."

How ironic is it that I live in an apartment complex that looks like a motel, and I work at a hotel that also looks like a motel.

It's really just one small step up from motel status. Except for the suites, which are almost decent. The Presidential Suite looks sharp at first glance, but you can see the flaws without even looking too closely. The whirlpool tub was poorly repainted by the previous owner, and the new owners (who've had the place for over a year) have done nothing to fix it. It's the kind of thing that you'd look at and go, "Ew. I'm not sitting in that." Or the yellow stains on a wall near the front door. Or the slightly frayed carpet. Or the sagging couch cushions.

Sure, it's only $160 a night. It would go for 3 times that up in Tremblant. If all the shoddy details were fixed.

I wonder if I get half price on room rentals. The Presidential Suite would be a mean place for a party.

I do get half price on tanning services. Not that I'd ever close myself into a tanning bed -- not after seeing Final Destination 3.

So, here's a story that's even wilder than someone walking out with the safe.

Such a fine establishment I now work in!

Back in February, a guy rented a room. Then the police showed up and told the surprised front desk clerk that the guy was stashing a bunch of firearms. And possibly a bomb.

They evacuated the hotel and sent everyone far away. Like, across the street. And sent in bomb-sniffing dogs and everything. By the time the dust settled, it was 7 hours later.

Also? Today, when the manager was showing me the tanning room and how things operate, she noticed that the radio/CD player was... gone.

I said, "A guest with a sports bag?" and she shrugged and said, "Yup."

Classy place! Classy people!

More Dooce

Leta had been playing with a new girl in her class, someone who hadn’t yet learned the rules. This new girl was playing a bit rough, and at one point she shoved Leta in the chest and sent her tumbling a few feet backward. (...) a part of me was like, well, maybe this experience will be good practice for that one day years from now when she decides to open up comments on her blog for the first time.

(...) "everything is fine,” (the teacher) said. “In fact, she kept going back to play with this girl over and over again, even though this girl continued to be pretty awful to her.”

“Ah well, that’s good,” I said. “I guess this means she’ll make a great alcoholic?”

Flush or bury?

Ya know, I was wondering idly a few days ago about toilet paper and tissue paper. I blow my nose a lot. I have low-grade, constant allergies to... (heh)... cats (3), dust (endless), and other things.

My last b/f accused me of being addicted to nose-blowing.

We were in his truck at the time, in traffic, and I remember turning to gape at him in astonishment.

"You think I'm addicted?"

I made him back down on that claim... make no mistake.

Oh yeah, I love dust. I love sneezing, dude. I love spending $50 a month on paper products with which to evacuate excess mucus.

So much fun.

So, with Kleenex in mind, I asked one of my more environmentally aware neighbours if it is better to flush snot rags down the toilet or put them into garbage for burial.

He told me burial is better because the bacteria created by the warmth generated in landfill breaks down paper (and, more recently, the thinner recycled grocery store bags) more quickly, rather than the process in water, which is slower.

So there you go.

Bury those tissues.

THIS is the man for me

UFC champion Randy "The Natural" Couture is my mostest ideal man ever.

He's an amazing athlete and has the winningest smile I've ever seen, rivalling even George Clooney.

My Teen and I spent the entire day today watching a UFC marathon.

I don't know why I like this stuff. I hate boxing, I despise wrestling (it's rigged, didja hear?).

But the UFC combines boxing, wrestling, and the martial arts, which somehow makes it so incredibly cool. My son has taught me a lot but watching the pros train and fight has also been extremely interesting.

It is to sigh. Some like Keanu, some like Dep, and I love Randy Couture.

(OK, I like them all, for different reasons.)

Cats and crotchety old men

I was sitting outside petting the stray cat yesterday when the neighbour and wife (apartment directly across the way) pulled up.

Old man: Is he crapping? (pointing to my cat sitting in his front yard)
Me: No, he's just sitting in the sun.

Ensued a long (too long for me, anyway) but fairly civilized discussion about cats in other peoples' yards, my habits and responsibility as a cat owner, the number of cats in the vicinity at night or in the winter, and much more. I held my sarcastic tongue well in check -- mainly because I was too tired to get myself worked up.

I grumbled to myself for about 15 minutes afterward, then deliberately put it out of my mind as too petty to waste energy on.

This morning, I let Mikey outside. Mikey's the wanderer, the hunter, the "free spirit" as my Teen calls him.

When he came back in a couple of hours later, he went...

... straight to the litter box.

Oh, how I praised him!

See, Old Man thinks Mikey might be "crapping" in his garden and elsewhere. At the very least, some cat is knocking over his small lawn ornaments.

So when Old Man drove up, I made a point of stepping outside to tell him my cat had come in and done his business in the box. He just grunted at first. Then he mentioned the complaints from the guy who set up a horseshoes game on the side lawn. Said game has, as usual, two sandpits on either end.

That was easy. Mr. Horseshoes has already told me he keeps catching neighbour Sophie's cat crapping there. Because Sophie goes to work at 7:40 a.m. and leaves her cat outside until 3:30 p.m. every day. Cat's gotta go somewhere, right?

Anyway, long story shortened just a tad, I think I have appeased Old Man with regard to my animal.

Friend B. asked me why I felt the need to answer or explain at all.

I just do. Why not defend myself? To not do so would simply encourage more sniping and gossiping behind my back.

This is tiring shit, though.

Avon calling!

In my ongoing yet rather inconsistent pursuit of more money, I applied for a job online on Sunday night.

I have this feeling that the person I sent my CV to doesn't really want me for the job, but she's not the one doing the actual hiring.

She offered her hotmail address so I could e- her my resume because I can't find my stupid printer cable. (Stupid cable!) Otherwise, I would have printed out the CV and given it to the appropriate person, in person.

And although I sent my neighbour my credentials, I have been trying to reach the people who are really responsible for hiring.

But their phone is hooked up to a fax and I keep getting the fax bloop bleep wheep.

Arsehats.

But even before this attempt at gainful employment, I signed up with Avon a couple weeks ago.

I know it sounds cheesy! Totally! But I figured WTH, why not give it a try? I know lots of women in this hick town. And believe me, they can use some help. They mght not watch What Not To Wear, but they can get some hints from moi about lipstick and such, yes?

So you see, I'm trying my very best to go forward.

(More money, please. Please, Universe!)

Want lyrics?

I guess I shoulda known
By the way u parked your car sideways
That it wouldnt last

See you're the kinda person
That believes in makin out once
Love em and leave em fast

I guess I must be dumb
cuz u had a pocket full of horses
Trojan and some of them used

But it was Saturday night
I guess that makes it all right
And u say what have I got 2 lose?
And honey I say

Little red corvette


(...)

Go here to get all the lyrics to songs you crave!

Buddha comes back

Trucker dude returns Sunday after a fortnight on the road.

If there's one good thing I can compliment Hell Canada for, it's their $24.95/month flat rate for long-distance calls in Canada/USA, 24/7.

Silly me, I was afraid to make any calls throughout August because I owed them so much money (although close to $200 is overbilled error). Then I realized I am paying that twenty five bucks each month, regardless... so I started calling people. Not quite at random, but I'll get there. Just to make sure I get a bang for my buck.

So I talked to Buddha like, 4 times last night, on Hell's dime.

He went to Laredo and back, and promises me a visit w/ meal tomorrow night.

Apparently there was some kerfuffle in Laredo, involving drug lords.

Tony Soprano, move over.

Maybe it's a good thing I did not accompany him to Texas this time.

Doesn't mean I won't go next time.

Truck stops, weigh-ins, diners, bad coffee. What's not to like about the prospect?

Not to mention getting the hell away from my grumpy teenager.