lattegirl does civilization

Room with a view

2012-01-31T15:58:00.005-05:00

Good things -- or, at least, slightly better things -- come to those who wait but also know when's the right time to ask. At this moment, we're waiting for the new lease to be drawn up so that we may move upstairs to the topmost floor.

Yes, it seems we've got our wish. An apartment facing the river is coming up for grabs and we examined it yesterday. The view of the water and the north shore of Montreal beyond it is everything we thought it would be.

In the summer, the water body itself is partially screened by the row of ragged trees beyond the parking lot; but the street lamps and house lights from the shoreline to Mount Royal, the cluster of downtown skyscrapers, and the illuminated Olympic Stadium are all there on view. A vista of the kind you see in TV shows or movies, where the character stands with one hand in his Armani pants pocket and one holding a snifter of cognac. In a decidedly more fabulous indoor decor...

For the apartment itself is almost a mirror image of ours, with a few variations. In terms of square footage, it's the same. The layout is not, and in one case it makes for a larger-looking kitchen and a larger bathroom, at the expense of some closet space elsewhere.

But the current tenant freely and blithely admits that he's neither washed nor painted the walls, cleaned any windows or even wiped away the crumbs that have lain in the kitchen cupboards since he moved in three years ago. His one concession to cleanliness, apparently, was to scrub away the food that a previous baby-aged occupant had flung on the kitchen walls. Even then, he said he thought we might see some remnants if we looked closely enough.

What this all means, of course, is that we're moving into another filthy place.

SIGH.

This time, however, we will take the landlord up on his offer (standard practice) to have the carpeting steam-cleaned. We did it ourselves with a rented machine where we are now, but I'm sure his professional guy will do a better job. We will need to paint. I also asked for primer to cover the dark orangey-brown shade on the lower half of the master bedroom walls. The same colour scheme in my present bedroom, except that the dark colour is on the top part of the walls AND the ceiling, and when I moved in here I was damned if I had the guts to tackle it.

I see a pretty large expenditure in Hertel in my near future.

In spite of the filth, we ticked off the pros and cons. Pros: the view, nobody over our heads, same price we're paying now. Cons: gross, ancient carpeting and the amount of time that will be needed to make the space even marginally more hygienic.

I'm starting to wonder if everyone else is just sloppy by nature and I've been overly picky all my life? Methinks not. The overall neglect of the building seems to inspire more neglect.

Will need a better camera to capture the view once we're there.

New Year's resolve... melted?

2012-01-05T16:51:00.000-05:00

I started a list of New Year's resolutions, to be published here or on the other blog, but partway through it struck me as sounding insufferably pretentious (e.g. "speak up against unfairness whenever I see it"). So I think I'll just continue quietly on my way and do the things I think I should do without public fanfare.

Two things I thought were unfair late last year, but I'll only write about one.

While cutting through the grounds of the high school nearby, I saw a kid being bullied. Apparently. I think. It might have been roughhousing or horseplay (funny old terms, those), but it sure looked like your typical bullying, especially since the larger kid was holding the smaller one upside down by his ankles. It was almost comical; cartoonish, even. But it didn't sound very funny, so I slowed down... wayyyyy down, as I approached them, my face deliberately blank (I think) and my eyes very much fixed on the bigger kid and his friends who were observing this picture of hilarity. They stopped and asked if I was a teacher. "Aha!" I thought. "Maybe," I replied. I could see just enough doubt in their faces that they figured it might be prudent to stop hassling the smaller boy. As I walked past them, they started horsing around again, so I turned and walked backward, away from them. All it meant was "I'm still watching you" and they sort of slunk out of sight, around a corner.

Bullying. So much in the news, isn't it? My son went through it for years. I would cheerfully have punched the lights out of the kids who did it. But he survived, and some don't, which just tears my heart out whenever I read about it in the news.

This time around, I'm sure I only had a temporary effect on the situation. But I thought it important to at least let those kids know that somebody had noticed, that somebody was watching. My gut told me this wasn't just fun and games...

Be careful what you wish for

2011-10-03T17:18:00.001-05:00

Back in Lachute, I spent a lot of time walking and jogging and having silent conversations with the universe.

I had asked for a quiet place, near a body of water.

I got a quiet street, but a noisy place near the river. I didn't ask to be "right by the river" so I got 'near' with some slums between it and me and sick, violent people upstairs and next door.

So I asked harder for peace and quiet. And I got it, but then it was too quiet. That was after the back injury and I'd spent the entire summer recuperating. Then followed winter, and that, too, was solitary. I would take naps sometimes in the afternoon and my dreams were, as always, fascinating.

But when I woke up it was always with the sinking feeling of, "Oh, no. I'm back in my dreary life again."

Very depressing.

Now -- I'm in the city, and again near water, as requested; still not close enough, though. I need to be more specific! Don't have the splendid view that some neighbours enjoy. When the leaves fall off the scrubby trees behind our property, however, I'll see all of downtown Montreal and the entire mountain across a stretch of water throughout the winter. But I want the summer view, too.

As for the quiet, well, we ain't got much of that, but I'm dealing with it. And when I wake up from a nap now, it's with the knowledge that a bus runs right by our front door and I can hop on anytime and go anywhere.

1000 Ways to Die

2011-06-10T10:18:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago my son and I were discussing the best and worst ways to die. Strictly theoretical. Of course we've never quite gotten our heads around the suicides of two of his childhood friends a year ago, so the topic comes up now and then, sometimes prompted by things in the news.

In fact, that was how this topic came up -- local news channels had been talking about the trial of the Piedmont doctor who'd killed his two children and then, laughably, "tried" to off himself by drinking Windex. We agreed that a doctor would have more knowledge and means at his disposal than this half-assed method.

Referring to the two friends who hung themselves, I asked Alex, "How does someone even know how to tie the right kind of knot for hanging?" And he said, "Mom, the Internet."

Of course. You can find just about anything on the net, can't you?

So this led to our discussion of best and worst ways to remove oneself from the daily grind of earthly existence.

I thought pills, but it would have to be lots of them. He said, "Think of the horrible sick buzz you'd get first. Maybe you'd puke, and choke." I thought: car running in garage. I don't remember how he disputed that one; I still think it sounds easy. We agreed that any form of asphyxiation (drowning, smoke) is bad. Jumping off anything from very high up is bad, in my books, but he said if you fall backwards without looking it's OK.

Yesterday, I hit on the perfect one whilst watching a terribly sad documentary on the Irish potato famine and the dreadful trip one boatload of refugees endured trying to get to North America. The ship was sinking and it was the middle of winter. The captain and his top men escaped to a lifeboat, leaving most passengers (including many children) to perish in the frigid waters or on ice floes.

And, finally, I heard the words which gave me the answer to our debate: the best way to die is of hypothermia. After the cold, your body feels warm and you get sleepy. Off you drift, off you go.

Meanwhile, the potato famine story opened my eyes for the first time to another debate: act of God or genocide? Both, as it turns out, or as historians are proving. Ireland continued to export food staples while its poorest were starving, the thinking being that the poor

ate only potatoes, and couldn't be convinced to change their diet to survive. And many landlords were more than glad to be rid of their peasant tenants so that their land might be converted for more lucrative uses. Shocking, really. I plan to read up more on it.

And then I changed my mind

2011-03-20T18:30:00.000-05:00

I was thinking about moving back to Montreal, or near Montreal, but after remembering how thrilled I was to move into my present abode, I decided to stay put.

Sure, as a friend says, I can find cheaper somewhere else. And yes, I was considering moving in with my son so we could ease our respective financial burdens.

But after consideration, I decided there is NO WAY I am ready to have neighbours overhead or under me. I spent too many years listening to other peoples' plumbing, snoring, doorbells, telephones, shouts and dogs to move again. Just the thought of packing and hauling stuff into and out of a truck fills me with fear and near-nausea.

Part of my thinking, too, was that this town is so dead I can barely stand it anymore. Everyone I know agrees... it's a BORING PLACE TO LIVE!

But since I can't change the town, I can change my attitude about it, and damn well find things to do.

So there.

2010-09-03T13:15:00.000-05:00

If I don't post something this whole thing will disappear! So here it is.

2009-12-23T10:14:00.000-05:00

Lifestyles of the rich and fat-uous

2009-09-03T08:39:00.005-05:00

From the tendon-obsessed Cryptkeeper (previous post) to K-Overfed (nickname courtesy of a commenter at The Superficial)... celebrities like to overdo things.

My eyes are burning.

There's guns, and then there's...

2009-07-30T16:22:00.002-05:00

I've seen too many pictures of Madonna's scary arms to think this has been 'Shopped. I don't know how in the world this woman thought she was doing herself any favours by overusing the weights. Unless she has a distorted mirror in her home gym. "Arms... not... ropey... enough!" She looks like she's training to be one of those human sculptures in that controversial art show that's been touring the world the past few years.

Yikes!

The next place I live

2009-07-13T08:23:00.004-05:00

I would like the next place I live to be:

- On a quiet street, with lawns and mature trees.
- Not next to a fast-food restaurant.
- Not near a major artery.
- Nowhere near any industry that uses an outdoor paging system to call its staff.

Where I live now, we have a lovely expanse of lawn to one side - it's actually an entire lot unto itself, but somehow nobody built on it. It has stands of old trees, and the landlords planted rose bushes and flowering vines and an array of perennials along the sides of the plain, boxy buildings we live in.

But the noise from the main street out front and the municipal garage smack next door, the dumpsters and bins a stone's throw away, the "Jean-Guy line one Jean-Guy line one" from the car dealership... all of it is, shall we say, a constant encroachment on the senses.

It would be nice to live in a more secluded, peaceful spot.

There are plenty of such places in this town. I just need to wait until the time is right.

Cool

2009-04-14T11:18:00.001-05:00

(CNN) -- New photographs released by NASA have captured images of a vast stellar formation resembling a human hand reaching across space.

Link here.

I heart Hugh Laurie

2009-04-08T18:24:00.000-05:00

My future's so bright...

2009-04-03T10:21:00.003-05:00

...I gotta wear shades.

Ogden - The Inappropriate Yoga Guy

2009-04-01T10:26:00.000-05:00

Tag, I'm it

2009-03-10T15:41:00.004-05:00

From my sis-in-law...

1 - Diamonds or pearls?

I am not attracted to diamonds. I like pearls and own three strands - two white and one pink.

2 - What was the last movie you saw?

Videotron rental - Quarantine. A Hollywood remake of a European movie. Not bad. A slight twist on the old zombie theme.

3 - What do you eat for breakfast?

Whatever's at hand, usually in sandwich form.

4 - What is the second first name on your birth certificate?

Ann

5 - What are the foods you would never eat?

I would never eat brains again. I tried them twice but the texture is too slimy.

6 - Coffee or tea?

Coffee. Mocha latte, to be precise.

7 - If you were a colour, which one would it be?

Pink, all shades thereof except pale.

8 - Who was the last person you spoke on the phone to?

My friend Colette. She owns the farm where I work part-time. We do an exchange of goods and services.

9 - What is your favorite day of the week?

Saturday all the way! It's the one day I don't have to get up early. But I do anyway.

10 - If you could take off on a plane today, where would you go?

Anywhere where it's not winter.

Clutter vs simplicity

2009-02-28T10:10:00.006-05:00

I am always torn by a desire to acquire stuff and the urge to pare down and keep things spare and simple.

I have been waging this battle for years. And the "stuff" always wins. Every time I move I shed things and start again with basics.

With a few choice pieces I love and need occupying suitable space in this small apartment, I don't really have room for much more. There are, however, a couple of non-choice items that just might go into the garbage very soon. To make room for other things.

I've noticed that people are not always quite as possessive about their material things as one might think.

For instance, I fell madly in love with a friend's bookcases a few months ago. They are tall and elegant, made of dark wood with glass doors. Quite suitable for a law office or venerable accounting firm. At the time, my friend said Oh no! He'd never part with them. But as he has also been reorganizing his space and acquiring new stuff, he has since sold me two of them. I'm waiting for delivery.

At the farm where I work part-time, I espied a lovely antique headboard leaning against a wall. I asked the owner if she'd ever consider selling it. She said, Not really, but what do you think of bartering for it?

In another 14 hours (that is to say, after 14 more hours of "unpaid" work) that headboard will be mine.

I don't even have room for the bookcases. But I want them - actually, if I rationalize quickly, I need them... for books and CDs that are still packed in boxes. Which will free up closet space for, um, other stuff.

56 days

2009-01-26T21:07:00.006-05:00

Not the longest I've gone, but the best - liberated at last, it seems, from the obsession.

I think my last rock bottom, brief as it was, was an existential wake-up call. Sounds corny, but hell...

I truly wondered if I had any purpose here. If there was any meaning in my life. If I mattered in the greater scheme of things (small dose of self-pity, there). If there was any reason I should stick around. I cried buckets, and gnashed my teeth (figuratively) and counted the trazodones in my little bottle. There were enough to put me down. Just go to sleep. I tidied up the apartment first. Wanted to leave everything looking orderly.

I was tired of being me, tired of my thoughts and memories.

But I got dressed and trudged my way angrily through the routine for a couple of more days until one morning everything was OK again.

And since then it's been better than OK, it gets a little better every day.

And for that, I am grateful.

(And it's not even Thanksgiving.)

Stepping forward

2009-01-24T10:46:00.008-05:00

This week I followed through on some things I've been thinking about but not acting upon.

I made some calls and left messages. Two of the people are the kind who don't really have "conversations," per se, but the kind who are just waiting for their turn to talk. They interrupt with an "oh yes me too!" story and often forget to get back to where we were. I dislike that.

It takes patience to talk to these friends. So, having talked to their machines, I feel relieved of my duty - for now.

A third person I left a left a message for doesn't want to speak to anyone. She's "gone out" - in AA parlance - and I know where she's at. The entire human race can take a flying leap and please let nobody knock on my door. But when I had those times I was grateful (later - not during) that somebody had called to say "I'm thinking about you."

I was hoping someone else would call me back with a little job offer, but so far nothing has come of it. It would entail working on a farm. I would sooooooo love that!!!!

So I followed up on another idea, instead: stopped over at the nearest church yesterday to sign up as a volunteer. I need to fill weekend afternoons with productive tasks. The church lady (hahah... shades of the old SNL) said they always need volunteers. So we'll see what happens there. Who knows what they might ask of me.

Basically, I feel the need to be useful and do rewarding things. I also need to be busier and have obligations and responsibilities to keep me from lapsing into THE URGE TO NAP ALL THE TIME!

I seem to be well on my way to turning into the teetotalling spinster cat lady with a library card who does church work. OMG.

Resident evil

2008-11-29T17:45:00.005-05:00

I was using one of three baskets to hold odds and ends and books. I finally became a real cat person when I put their favourite blanket into one basket last week... and it's been a hidey-place for which all three kitties vie on a daily basis. When they aren't weighing me down with their combined 30 lbs in my bed at night, that is.

On the Internets

2008-11-28T17:10:00.003-05:00

There are a couple of sites I go to regularly for humour of the quasi-literary sort.

The first is aptly named: Passive-Aggressive Notes dot com. It's kind of like that "Post Secret" site that was so hot a couple years ago (and still might be, for all I know) but much funnier. People take pictures of p.a. notes other people have left. The comments are, predictably, mostly hilarious.

The second is one I've mentioned before is The "Blog" of Unnecessary Quotations. As you can see by the "quotation" marks, it's not "really" a blog. But it is a consistently amusing look at the terrible license taken by people, people with a certain authority or level of administrative power, who can't write.

Because I am THAT lazy

2008-11-10T10:16:00.005-05:00

30 Questions

Lifted from DJ

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
“Why does my new haircut always look like shit in the morning?”

2. How much cash do you have on you?
About $14

3. Favorite planet?
Is the Moon a planet or a star?

4. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Don't have a cell phone.

5. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
I told you, I don't have a cell phone!

6. Bright or Dark Room?
Bright for day, mellow for evening.

7. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Sleeping.

8. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
*sigh*

9. Who told you he/she loved you last?
Trish.

10. Your worst enemy?
Myself.

11. What is your current desktop picture?

Cootie.

12. What was the last thing you said to someone?
“See you tomorrow.”

13. The last song you listened to?
Loreena McKennitt - The Mummer's Song

14. What time of day were you born?
I don't know because nobody seems to remember.

15. What’s your favorite number?
I don't have one.

16. Are you jealous of anyone?
No.

17. Is anyone jealous of you?
I believe so.

18. Do you consider yourself kind?
Yes.

19. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
On my wrist.

20. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
German.

21. Are you touchy feely?
Not overmuch.

22. Name three things that you have on you at all times?
Pen, Tylenol, keys.

23. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
Groceries.

24. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
Last Friday (3 days ago).

25. Can you change the oil on a car?
No, but then again I don't have a car.

26. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
After his mother died, I never heard a thing.

27. How far back do you know about your ancestry?
I'd have to consult the family tree, but offhand I know it goes pretty far back.

28. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?
Halloween 2008 - large velvet hat with feathery border, black faux-velvet Renaissance dress, high-heeled black boots. Went to an AA meeting that way.

29. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
Lower back, as usual.

30. Have you been burned by love?
I think I did most of the burning.

Today I am H.A.L.T.

2008-10-18T12:34:00.008-05:00

Hungry, angry, lonely (not really), tired.

People can suck such energy from you, even with the simplest phrase in email, such as the one I got this morning in response to a bouncy message I sent late last evening:

"I had the impression you were going to call me last night. I am suffering but am I just being manipulative?"

Gee, sorry, I got busy with other stuff. Like talking to my son about issues that concern him and then having a fun chat with a lovely Internet contact. And yes, you do sound manipulative.

Why are some people so needy?

Why do they preach self-sufficiency and yet are unable to spend time alone?

Why do they expect the rest of us to attend to them when we have our own needs for solitude, contemplation, a good book?

Why can't they feel a measure of equilibrium in everyday life?

Why is this AA person with so many years of sobriety such a grabby needy man?

Do you know people who are unable to go to a movie alone, eat in a restaurant alone, walk alone because they somehow feel... too exposed, too vulnerable, too lonely-looking? I feel sorry for them. I've always been able to be at ease with myself. Years of practice. I've had friends pf both sexes who've jumped from one relationship to the next because they can't bear to be on their own, living with themselves, surrounded by 3 or 4 rooms or an entire house.

There are times when I don't like myself much, but I'm accustomed to me and my foibles and I can and will very easily take me and my relatively few demands on myself.

So, back to H.A.L.T. I was hungry when I started this post, but I've since had a bowl of my own chicken soup, which is laden with rice, beans, pasta and all manner of other good things. Angry, I guess I still am. Resentful is a better word, though. Lonely, not much. I had my usual busy, people-filled week and I do enjoy a day alone. It's a fabulously chilly, sunny fall afternoon and my windows are open and there is a fairly bad science fiction movie on the Scream channel and I don't feel particularly lonely. Tired, yeah, cuz I stayed up later than usual last night.

All in all, I suppose things are alright.

I just had to write this here rather than take it out on the person who instigated some of these ranty feelings.

AA doesn't change you, except...

2008-10-16T17:20:00.003-05:00

If I had a million dollars for each man who's hit on me since I've attempted sobriety...

I can't even finish that sentence!

OK, I calculate I'd have 2.5 million dollars. Hah.

Ever wonder about girls who actively look for sugar daddies? I can't really imagine doing that. I suppose you've got to have such low self-esteem, or be so young -- although both pretty much go hand in hand -- that you'd stoop so low as to blow someone just because they have a beautiful house and a hot car. Or so some male members have told me, much to my amazement (naive me). Girlz on the prowl!

Good thing that in spite of my almost three-decades of attempted self-oblivion, I never quite lost sight of me. Never let my feet really get off the ground. (Momentarily, yes. But never for long. And I suppose the lack of real crystal chandeliers, columnades, butlers, maids, chauffeurs, limos, and endless fresh flowers has nothing to do with this innate groundedness I feel. Bah.)

On a more mundate note, I am getting a hair trim tomorrow. One of the best things about not drinking is that everyone slices 10-15 years off my real age. And that's because I'm not pouring toxins down my throat hourly. I thought it was Estée Lauder, but it's a lot simpler than that.

I admit...

2008-09-25T18:24:00.002-05:00

I have no faith.

I tell myself it doesn't matter, because I'm not American and I won't be voting. But it does matter, because I don't want a newbie helping run the world's allegedly most powerful country.

Animals I would have

2008-09-08T07:26:00.010-05:00

The sucker-footed bat.

I love bats, no matter how weird or ugly they can be. Bats can eat up to one ton of insects in a single night. There are only two known species in the sucker-footed family, both in Madagascar.

This little dude looks like a Japanese anime character.

It's a Dumbo Octopus! And it appears to have a case of "Stimpy tongue"!!! (It is actually an ear-like fin.)

But my all-time favourite animal is the Sugar Glider!

I thought I was more interesting

2008-08-27T17:40:00.001-05:00

You Are Times New Roman

You are formal and conservative. You're concerned with how you appear to others.

For you, maintaining a good reputation is important. You want people to trust you.

Elegant and classy, you always maintain your composure. You are never crass.

You are professional, competent, and upstanding. And it shows!

What Font Are You?

2008-08-23T06:23:00.003-05:00

I was running a variety of money-consuming errands yesterday, and when I was almost done I sat on a bench on Main Street to take a break. Two men were standing near me, one had a rosary draped around his hand. The pretty amber beads caught my eye -- I am part magpie and do love sparkly things.

I stood up and asked him where one could acquire a rosary here in Cowtown. He said he buys his at the Oratory in Montreal, and then held out his hand and said, "Here. Keep this one."

Sweet.

I tried to take pictures of it, but I am lousy at close-ups of inanimate objects.

Rosary - from the Latin 'rosarium' meaning Rose Garden.

A Rosary is a system in which a set number of prayers are recited. A string of beads is usually used to keep count.The string of beads is what is known as a Chaplet ... but it is often referred to as a Rosary.

The practice was started by the Eastern Christian Monks in the Third Century. The Roman Catholic Rosary is associated with St. Dominic in the 13th century.

Perspective

2008-07-26T07:59:00.003-05:00

My son called me this morning... when the phone rings at 7:30 you just know it's him, he knows I'm up early.

I miss him on daily basis... think about him all the time. We hang up with "I love you, too" and I mean it with every fibre of my being.

Then, sometimes, I remember what a slug he was when he lived at home.

His messy bedroom... his rolled-up socks in the laundry basket... his grunts by way of conversation...

What was I thinking?

(He says he finds comfort in the sky... that's my boy...)

2008-07-22T08:31:00.001-05:00

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July 21, 2008

Remembering the Moment
Enjoying Life

Life, in all of its fullness, is happening right now. While our thoughts are sometimes elsewhere, beautiful opportunities and moments are being passed over and lost to the flow of time. And though we cannot possibly fully experience each leaf that falls to the ground, sometimes we get so attached to reaching our goals that we don't pay attention to the wonder all around us. When we do that, we live in a world that exists only in our heads, while we miss life itself. There is so much to be enjoyed and appreciated that we need to remember to pay attention to the present moment, because it is the only space in which we can experience being alive.

We learn from our past, but dwelling on it keeps us from being fully present to life in the moment. We create our lives with our thoughts, but focusing so firmly on our imagined future keeps us from co-creating with the universe, so we might never allow ourselves to live our dreams as they manifest. It's possible to be so happy and comfortable in our inner worlds that we lose touch with the business of life. We may enjoy spending large portions of time in meditation, or focused on our thoughts.

Life must be attended to, and if we are wise, we can enjoy it at the same time. We can awaken ourselves to the moment we are living right now by taking a deep breath and simply looking around. In doing so, we refocus our attention to our location in the real world. Then we can learn to appreciate the process of working toward our goals as much as their attainment. Balancing ourselves between the present moment and eternity, we can experience and enjoy the full range of reality available to us as spiritual beings living on earth.

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Good advice

2008-07-05T06:04:00.001-05:00

Lifted from Pink's place....

HOW TO STAY YOUNG:

1. Throw out nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height. Let the doctors worry about them. That is why you pay ‘them.’

2. Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.

3. Keep learning! Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever, even ham radio. Never let the brain idle. ‘An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.’ And the devil’s family name is Alzheimer’s.

4. Enjoy the simple things.

5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.

6. The tears happen. Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.

7. Surround yourself with what you love, whether it’s family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge.

8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

9. Don’t take guilt trips.. Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county; to a foreign country but NOT to where the guilt is.

10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

I hear a basketball

2008-06-04T18:11:00.002-05:00

I think of my son.

I am taken back to days when he walked up to the house pounding his basketball.

He'd always leave his big damned shoes in the doorway.

I walked past a front door today where there were lots of running shoes scattered.

For all cat owners

2008-05-09T18:59:00.001-05:00

Fed apples to this girl

2008-03-23T15:35:00.007-05:00

I fell into the ditch, too. Landed on my ass on a nasty dirty snowbank. And she just stared at me.

Bad left knee! Bad! Ouch. Twisted it all over again just when it was starting to get better.

At least the bison were happy campers. They loved the apples.

Only three of them left... used to be a dozen last summer! Next time you eat bison burgers, think of that face up there. Guilt trip!

A sibling made me laugh out loud

2008-03-23T10:33:00.000-05:00

"She gets attached to inanimate objects, which is why she still has
her first car, and why she married me."

My boy

2008-03-22T10:24:00.005-05:00

Look at that supposedly innocent face.

Look at the horrible thing on his lower lip! I begged him not to get a snake, but he went ahead and did it, anyway.

*sigh*

I don't know why he always takes pictures of himself in the bathroom. You'd think he'd prefer some other kind of backdrop?

I love him, no matter what. My emo kid.

He rocks the canine world

2008-03-20T19:29:00.008-05:00

I've been watching The Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan, lately, on National Geographic Channel. His show has become an addiction of sorts for me from 5:00 - 6:00 PM (EST).

Friend B., who finishes work at 4:15, comes over to watch it with me, and we marvel at this man's technique. B. had a dog that was very insecure/dominant.

Millan has taught me ways (several years too late) on how to handle dogs: what he calls the mind-body-heart rule.

My #1 dog, Laika, was an apparently beautiful, well-behaved retriever/shepherd mix. She was rather dominant though, with other dogs.

So yeah, now that I see what I've just written, she could have used some of Millan's techniques. We used to avoid the municipal dog parks because Laika got upset when surrounded by strange dogs sniffing her butt.

My #2 dog, Stanzie, which I thought was a lab/schnauzer mix but turned out to be an exotic breed the name of which I can't remember, was a nervous, poop-spewing wreck. And I did all the wrong things with her. I know this now. Although I felt badly while recently watching the first eps of DW and thinking of Stanzie, I have come to realize that dogs are, in Cesar's words, "all about the now." And the dear lady who adopted both my girls has since rehabilitated Stanzie with several years of calm energy and love.

If I ever have another canine companion in my life, I will know what to do from the outset, thanks to Mr. Millan.

Shout out to Cesar, alpha male!

*above: Lily the majorly scary looking pit bull terrier, who lives with friends in the next town. Pit bulls are outlawed here in Cow Town, and I don't really mind that too much.

2008-03-18T10:56:00.003-05:00

Girly, aka Boom, aka Baby... being her usual adorable Tortie self.

Strong gag reflex

2008-03-15T10:53:00.003-05:00

You know how there's this incredible spate of ads on TV nowadays for oral hygiene products -- revolutionary whitening toothpastes and mouthwashes, etc etc etc.

One toothbrush talks about how it takes care not only of teeth, but also gums, cheeks, and tongue.

I don't know about you, but I cannot brush my tongue. I gag to the point of throwing up in the sink. Every.Single.Time.

I do the rest (and still gag, most times) and rely on List@rine to take care of my tongue. And contrary to a current advert for a mouthwash "without the burning alcohol sensation," I personally love the burning feeling. It makes me feel like the product is really working. I think I am hooked on the L stuff, anyway. I use it, like, 3-4 times a day.

Carry a big stick

2008-03-06T08:03:00.005-05:00

I talked on the phone with Rox yesterday.

I told her she sounds like a Stepford Wife -- she has this sweet little voice and you'd never guess the foul words that come out of that mouth. She calls one of her best friends a douchebag, for instance, and describes her latest read as "fucking stellar."

How can you NOT love a woman like that.

For her, I will type this word which I hate with a passion when I see it on a blog: LOL!

Rox really does rock!

One of the more intelligent quizzes I've taken

2008-03-04T15:26:00.003-05:00

Not sure I want to be associated with Leo DiCaprio -- or is that Matt Damon? --whatever. And who is that chick on the piano? Someone, anyone, Bueller?

I'm a Talent!

You're a risk-taker, and you follow your passions. You're determined to take on the world and succeed on your own terms. Whether in the arts, science, engineering, business, or politics, you fearlessly express your own vision of the world. You're not afraid of a fight, and you're not afraid to bet your future on your own abilities. If you find a job boring or stifling, you're already preparing your resume. You believe in doing what you love, and you're not willing to settle for an ordinary life.

Talent: 62%
Lifer: 36%
Mandarin: 44%

Take the Talent, Lifer, or Mandarin quiz.

Eating apples

2008-02-27T03:12:00.002-05:00

Warning!

2008-02-26T05:09:00.002-05:00

IMPORTANT SAFETY INFORMATION ABOUT MIRAPEX:

MIRAPEX tablets are indicated for the treatment of moderate-to-severe primary Restless Legs Syndrome (RLS).

MIRAPEX may cause you to fall asleep without any warning, even while doing normal daily activities, such as driving. When taking MIRAPEX, hallucinations may occur and sometimes you may feel dizzy, sweaty or nauseated upon standing up. The most common side effects in clinical trials for RLS were nausea, headache, and tiredness. You should talk with your doctor* if you experience these problems.

* or local police officer.

Snagged from Nineteen Sixty Eight...

2008-02-20T10:29:00.000-05:00

You're Mother Night!

by Kurt Vonnegut

Nobody knows what to believe about you, and you know least of all. You
spent most of your time convinced that the ends justify the means, but your means were,
well, downright mean! And the end is nigh. Meanwhile all you want is to travel back in
time, if not to change, then to just delight in the way it used to be. You are who you
pretend to be. Oh yes, you're the great pretender.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Senators kick Canadiens' arse

2008-02-09T23:39:00.000-05:00

They danced around the Canadiens tonight, it was a delight to see.

What a shame, though. I remember the last big win for the Canuks in 1992. We drove through the streets honking the car horn. The team is now a shadow of its former self.

2008-02-08T08:22:00.001-05:00

Ow my eyes hurt.

MANY MANY WISHES TO KATE, WHO IS my craziest friend ever.

I love her tiny squeaky voice to bits.

She will hate me for this, I know.

Like your mother before you

2008-02-06T06:42:00.000-05:00

Jack... cont'd

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfpK3H5e0S4

And the answer to The Old Boys

2008-02-06T05:34:00.000-05:00

You know what? They made nice.

The Old Boys

2008-02-04T21:45:00.001-05:00

Immediately after coming home from work at the retail outlet today (it was an OK day, dead in the morning as usual, picking up after 1 PM and then dead again as of 4 PM), I spotted Emphysema Man at the upstairs window. I went up to ask him to front me smokes.

Whilst in his apartment, his nemesis the property manager arrived at the door and, to my utter amazement, they proceeded to have a civil conversation, which I figured was mostly because I was between them and preventing eyebrow ripout.

But no, we adjourned to the upstairs lounge (an indoor "perk" enjoyed by those who don't have a real outdoor balcony -- ask me which one I'd prefer?) and the boys, the old coughing boys, sat down to an apparently decent convo. I sat with them for precisely 20 minutes then rose, saying, "I am starving. I must make myself dinner." (Which was true. I'd had a great lunch but was... faint with hunger, some days are like that. But also, there is only so much I can take of these old dudes. They are... not in my age or my class. There, I said it. They just aren't. We get along for weather and stuff, but that's about it.)

As I stood on the edge of the stairs, I looked at them sitting companionably and asked, "Hey, didn't you guys used to totally hate each other and not talk at all?"

One of them answered, "Check my voice mail, 0317, you'll understand."

So I did, when I got home.

A giggle

2008-02-03T11:00:00.000-05:00

Found chez Infinitepink.

About female suicide bombers

2008-02-01T19:25:00.000-05:00

In the wake of the latest two suicide bombings by women in Baghdad markets made me do a search for WHY women are doing this.

— Remote-controlled explosives strapped to two mentally retarded women detonated in a coordinated attack on Baghdad pet bazaars Friday, Iraqi officials said, killing at least 73 people in the deadliest day since the U.S. sent 30,000 extra troops to the capital last spring.

The Women Suicide Bombers

Andrea Dworkin

There are good reasons for women suicide bombers, and anyone who knows what's happening to women in the Middle East can't be surprised.

This is not the first time there have been women martyrs from Palestine. Between June 1967 and October 1985, there were 353 terrorist attacks inside Israel and each caused casualties. In the era of Oslo and the early days of the Palestinian Authority there were a near endless parade of suicide bombers who murdered Israeli civilians in acts of terror. There were, in the interstices of the terrorists, young women, often women who had been raped, sometimes by men in their own families. Rather than face an ignominious death, the young women wrapped themselves with explosives and committed a glorious suicide, one that would raise them up into the elite of martyrdom. Now one sees the same happening with exemplary young women, whose motives have to do with trying to scale the heights of a woman-hating society. How does one rise up in a land where women are lower than the animals? If one does what the men do, does one get a measure of the respect the community gives the men?

It is better, easier, and more logical to blame the Israelis for women's suffering than to blame the men who both sexually abuse and then kill them according to honor society rules. Says one woman: "It is as if we were in a big prison, and the only thing we really have to lose is that. Imagine what it is like to be me, a proud, well-educated woman who has traveled to many countries. Then see what it is like to be an insect, for that is what the [Israeli] soldiers call us-cockroaches, dogs, insects."

The female suicide bombers are idealists who crave committing a pure act, one that will wipe away the stigma of being female. The Palestinian community is not sacrificing low women, women of no accomplishment, women with no future. Instead, the women suicide bombers are the society's best in terms of human resources, a perverted example of the best and the brightest. There are reasons for this.

The first has to do with sexual abuse. Israeli and Palestinian feminists have worked together in rape crisis centers to repair the torn hymens of Palestinian rape victims. This is a life-saving procedure, since sexual abuse is perceived as a form of the woman having prostituted. There is no empathy, no post-traumatic stress disorder, no redemption, no revenge against the rapist, no legal prosecution of him. Instead for the woman or girl there is secrecy or death. In becoming suicide bombers, women trade in the lowly status of the raped woman for the higher status of a martyr. The fact that women suicide bombers have not been recognized as such before this current onslaught of anti-Israeli aggression has to do with the invisibility of women in general and the necessary silence of injured women.

The second reason for women suicide bombers is to try to rise in the nationalist struggle so that when that struggle is over the status of women will be recognized as deserving of citizenship and equality. In Algeria women fought heroically. All the rules that bind women seemed to change. Women were in the company of men. Women were brave. Women were not hidden. After liberation the women were pushed back down. A similar dynamic took place with Israeli women, needed to fight and to settle the land early on, now distinctly second-class, especially under increasingly influential religious law.

The third reason is pride: the deep-seated belief that a young woman can be as brave, as sacrificing, as willing to submit to revolutionary imperatives as men. Girls and young women want to stand up to the Israelis, hard to do in a landscape of maniacal fighting men. The best and brightest are motivated to stand up for their families: their beaten fathers, their destroyed homes, their angry mothers, and the brothers who are civilly superior to them.

In this time of terror, there is no tie between Israeli and Palestinian women, no conviction on the part of Palestinian women that the Israeli women they are killing have anything in common with them. Even though policy is made in both communities by aggressive, angry men, there is no sisterhood to speak of, no sense that there but for the grace of God go I. Instead adult Palestinian men pick out those needing or desiring martyrdom, strap explosives around them and send them into Hell, not Heaven. The more women want to prove their worth, the more women suicide bombers there will be. The lower the Israelis push the "cockroaches," the angrier the accomplished Palestinian women will be, and sisterhood between them and the young bombers will also disappear. The older women will let the younger women do the dirty work. They will not stop them.

Both Israeli and Palestinian men push women into an anti-sisterhood camouflaged as nationalist liberation.

Andrea Dworkin is the author of "Scapegoat: The Jews, Israel, and Women's Liberation." Her most recent book is "Heartbreak: The Political Memoir of a Feminist Militant."

Add to this sad list of childless and "useless" women the mentally retarded females, who were told to go out and sell something and then were remote-controlled blown up.

All work contained in Feminista! (TM) online journal is owned by the respective contributing authors or artists, including all copyrights contained therein, and may not be copied, reprinted, or otherwise used in any form without the express written permission of the copyright holder. Please contact Feminista! or the author/artist for information.

Like in a hospital room

2008-01-31T21:58:00.000-05:00

Every evening, as he sits and watches his TV quite loudly, the semi-deaf guy next door makes this really weird noise like, every 10 seconds.

Sometimes he coughs, but mostly he does this "HUHHH-UH" halfway between a cough and a painful exhalation.

It has increased in frequency in just the past two weeks. Used to be I'd hear this sound every minute or two. Now I hear it all evening and after his TV is off and he falls asleep.

The sad thing is, he quit smoking for a couple of months and these noises stopped. But he claimed he gained 26 months and was so disgusted that he started smoking again. (To his credit, he also went on a diet and bought himself an exercise machine, and lost much of the weight.) He said he was only smoking 5 cigs a day and planned to cut back until he was down to zero. But from the sounds of it, he must be back up to a pack or more daily. You don't breathe like that on 5 smokes a day.

The walls being what they are here, we might as well be separated by a hospital curtain.

I'm thinking he must have advanced emphysema. I know the older dude upstairs has got it, but he just wheezes quietly. I don't hear him much except when he does his "morning cough" (smokers will know what that is) and I sometimes get to hear that at 4:30 a.m. when he arises.

Between those two and Miss Heavyfoot at 5:00 a.m. each day, it's no wonder I never get a decent night's sleep without resorting to a pill!

What a bunch we are!

Christmas in July and other tidbits

2008-01-24T18:46:00.000-05:00

At the rate I'm going, the Christmas presents I bought for family and friends will get delivered this summer. Maybe.

My son called me at 6:30 a.m. today. I didn't even hear the phone. Perhaps that's because I was awake from 2:00 - 3:30 this morning, wide awake, and doing translation. But wow, it's nice to get a message from my boy, who I miss daily. Almost every minute, in fact.

My sleep patterns are shot lately. So imagine my amazement when I saw an ad for a natural alternative medication for menopause on Facebook. (Yes, that is how Facebook works: when you sign up for a new application, they use your info and target ads to you.

So this med, it's called MenoControl24. You take a daytime pill and a nighttime pill. And it is supposed to control ALL THESE SYMPTOMS WHICH I HAPPEN TO HAVE:

- hot flashes
- fatigue
- nervousness
- night sweats
- migraines
- sleep disorders
- temporary depression

And the other symptom, I'm not even going to mention because it has no bearing at all, since I'm not currently married or in a relationship. Let's just say if I was a man, they'd call it penile dysfunction or something.

So I called my doctor and asked if I can safely take this homeopathic product. She said she doesn't see why not but I have to ask my pharmacist.

I had fun today at the store, in spite of all those customers who are going to Playa Del Something in Cuba. I am jealous.

Peace at last?

2008-01-23T11:08:00.000-05:00

Last evening, while I was shoveling not only my walkway but that of the immediate neighbours, Miss LaLa (who has many nicknames) from upstairs came out and brushed the snow off her car.

I seized the occasion to tell her that she is very noisy early each morning, waking me up when she walks around her apartment in her boots.

She denied wearing boots (bullshit) but I must say, she was as silent as a mouse this morning.

Now if I could just get Emphysema Man to stop horking at all hours...

Polar bear playing with huskie

2008-01-19T08:02:00.000-05:00

What would they think?

2008-01-18T22:41:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure most of my friends who come here have never had a heart attack.

My first year anniversary is coming up soon, and I am acutely aware of it.

In fact, I've been very aware of my every heartbeat since Feb 6, 2007.

I don't worry overmuch about it most times, I know it's just a matter of time before I have another one, but the thing is...

Sometimes before I leave my apartment I look around. And I think:

"If I died today, what would the clean-up crew say?"

So there are days when I tidy up really good.

I imagine people walking into the messy bedroom, the pile of laundry on the floor. The dishes in the kitchen. The grungy bathroom sink. The piles of papers here and there, with scribbled notes.

I imagine they'd say, "Oh, my. She was a slob. Who is this Langelier person on her voice mail?" (That one would be a wrong number, imagine if they called her back.)

I mentioned this "if I died tonight" scenario many weeks ago to my sympathetic co-worker, Mrs. Gom, (not her real name, but close), and she was aghast. I guess some people don't think in the same fatalistic terms.

So there are days when, before I leave the house for work or even before going to bed, I scrub my toilet and bathroom sink.

In fact, I am about to do that right now.

Because my last heart attack was in Feb 2006 and most heart attacks happen during the night, I feel anxious these days and nights.

Time flies

2008-01-13T07:51:00.000-05:00

I spent most of the past 3 days sleeping.

My capacity for sleep is amazing.

Other than that, I've been on the phone a lot. And I'm not much of a phone person.

Who has seen the wind?

2008-01-09T10:29:00.000-05:00

She is a'howling today... blown away all our fog and trying to tip over our mature pines.

The weather in Quebec is always weird and interesting.

Minus 22C one day, then 11C and rainy the next.

Today, it's still warm enough to keep all the windows open.

Hey, you know what? Rom changed her phone number AND her email address. Think I made her paranoid by publishing her ridiculous letter and full name?

Think I'll ever see my teddy bears? No, I don't suppose so.

Well, back to work.

Are you reading this, Annette?

2008-01-07T06:35:00.000-05:00

Block me in email, don't answer your phone, whatever.

Throw all my 18 boxes away if you want... all I want back is the big bag of Alex's teddy bears.

Actually, call Centraide, give them everything except the plush toys. They will usually send a truck to pick things up.

If you have a sentimental bone left in your body, you would leave me Alex's things. Also, one of those bears is the very first one I remember getting for Christmas as a child.

Oh, man

2008-01-06T18:35:00.000-05:00

Since last week I have been trying to help a friend with a gambling addiction.

I have taken his cash and his bank cards. I have held his money hostage in my front pocket.

This is very trying. I don't need this... oh, god. It is so wearing...

But tonight he made a phone call, the usual "first step" which I've found myself making over and over as the years go by. So I'm not calling the kettle black, ya know? It's just tiring to think about another person in this way, to be a "mom" all over again.

Wish me luck.

I bloody well need it, to take care of myself AND a friend.

Ten things you would say if you could

2008-01-04T20:42:00.000-05:00

I did this meme a few years ago, but there are new people in my life and old people I've dumped, so maybe it's worth reviewing. I will try to make it at least half positive.

List up to ten things you would love to say to someone or to several people but don’t dare or likely won’t for various reasons. Do not state who these people are and do not confirm or deny any comment speculation.

1. Not everything you say is amusing, even though you chuckle at your every utterance.
2. You need to make some life-changing resolutions, not just New Years' resolutions.
3. Stop complaining about the fucking weather.
4. You are some pretty good people.
5. We've had our ups and downs, but you are my lifeline.
6. You should post more often, because you are amazing.
7. Stop with the road rage, already.
8. You think money solves everything, but it hasn't solved your issues.
9. Stop lolling at yourself on your blog. If it's funny, we'll laugh on our own.
10. You are a relatively kind soul, even though you gossip too much.

2007-12-31T21:04:00.000-05:00

Stolen from Infinitepink...

Aw, darn, the animation doesn't work. So much for animated gift theft.

OK, here's another one, sent to me by a friend in Florida...

And then I notice that not only does it not animate, but the bottle says 2005.

Oh, well. Must have been a good year.

Happy New Year, kids!

Oh, and there's always this... (thanks, Uno)
http://www.icq.com/img/friendship/static/card_16961_rs.swf

Orange kitty

2007-12-23T07:12:00.000-05:00

An orange kitty has been meowing outside my door for the past 12 hours, on and off.

I put out a bowl of food for him.

Kill me now? What is this, a Christmas present?

Does he know I feed strays? Where did he come from? Is he my neighbour's orange cat? Why is he locked out? Where did they go? Isn't it good that it's only 1 degree C outside?

Oy.

Kleenex guaranteed

2007-12-16T21:19:00.001-05:00

More disclosure

2007-12-16T20:02:00.000-05:00

ROM would like me to disclose (remind?!) you that I'm an alcoholic and that every deed I've done has been tainted by meanness and that every word I write is to be taken with a grain of salt. Indeed, I must admit I've lived a life without a single redeeming virtue, without a single good turn, without a single act of kindness. But most certainly with a flask in my hip pocket every day, oh, yes. Drunk every step of the way.

She got her money and now she's holding my stuff hostage.

The question begs to be asked: who is the meaner of the two?

Business baron to prison bitch

2007-12-10T22:36:00.001-05:00

Our local news stations are all agog about the sentence of Lord Conrad Black, former media magnate, just sentenced to 6 years for fraud with Hollinger Inc.

I can't help but wonder why Martha Stewart got such a light sentence for her insider trading (five months, and wasn't it served at home or something?).

The higher they stand, the harder they fall? Black and Stewart were among the wealthiest people on the planet.

Both of them bilked people, but it seems the sentences are weird, but what do I know.

Another view here.

La teigne and my eyebrows

2007-12-09T01:27:00.001-05:00

"They" say I look like Edith Piaf.

Not sure about the eyebrows...

Or the hair

Or the cheekbones

Or the jawline

Or the neck

Or the airbrushing...

But otherwise, yeah! I see the resemblance!

Thanks for the vote of weird confidence, Vic!

On another note... I am afraid my cats have ringworm. (That is La Teigne in French)

I've checked for fleas... they've all been scratching a lot... but no fleas. I know how to find those little fuckers, believe me. Aint' no fleas there, but ringworm is a fungi, and oh ow eww ick YUCK I've been through it before and I DON'T WANT IT AGAIN!

Halp! Vet. $$$$$

Mindy wins!

2007-12-06T22:12:00.000-05:00

Mindy wins a to-be-determined prize for the Don Johnson lookalike question.

I must think of something completely unique to send her. *note to self: shop tomorrow.*

This is not an easy feat, because Mindy is co-owner of Regalo Boutique. I can't tell you how much I love that place; some of the best decorative items I've ever owned, I bought from them. So finding her something different is going to be a task.

(Plus, they have a great Fall-Winter sale on NOW. Go! Go, I say!)

New Facebook picture

2007-12-05T13:03:00.000-05:00

Any of youse who don't have Facebook yet, well, you don't know what kind of fun you're missing.

I think my new short bangs make me look impish... but only from that angle, of course.

That is all.

Who is? contest

2007-12-03T20:45:00.000-05:00

I think Jeni had an idea when she suggested I stage a contest...

After I post this, I'll see if enough people comment to warrant a real-life prize. First person to come close wins.

Who is this man, and who does he resemble, to you?*

*meaning, your best interpretation. You see how open this contest is?

More separated at birth guys

2007-12-02T02:13:00.001-05:00

A couple posts back I said David Usher looks quite like Keanu Reeves.

Who is this dude, and who else does he resemble, to you?

Mindy says Scott Baio. She's close... if you keep in mind my proviso of "to you".

Did my Xmas tree

2007-12-02T00:46:00.000-05:00

I cannot seem to take proper photos of anything that involves lights, so I can't show you my humble Christmas tree in its real prettiness.

She stands just about 4 feet tall, I'm guessing, and is pretty cute and quite laden with ornaments. The exercise of mounting and decorating it just seems... a little useless considering a) it's not a real tree b) it won't have any presents underneath.

What a waste of time and effort it feels to be, on some level. The exercise cheers me yet makes me melancholy; how weird is that?

Not to mention that the lower half lights stopped working and I had to add a whole nuther set, but still the top half has more twinkling white lights.

Flaming Brit Eddie Izzard

2007-11-29T22:11:00.000-05:00

Stolen from DJ, who stole it from YouTube.

Excuse me, I need to wash my hands

2007-11-29T21:36:00.001-05:00

1,168,440

And now, an Usher moment

2007-11-28T19:09:00.001-05:00

Not that pretender Usher rap guy... the real Usher.

David Usher.

Doesn't he look like Keanu's brother?

Well, "BFF" and I think so.

We would just eat him up, we would.

2007-11-28T03:09:00.000-05:00

Methinks it's not so weird to wake up crying about a dream in which I go to school to tell the nuns that one of their cherished 8-year-old students has died in a war.

Of course, I was the student.

My dreams have been really unpleasant the past couple of nights.

We're cooking with gas

2007-11-21T10:21:00.000-05:00

Subsequent to this post, I am indeed cooking for my friend B., if only to make his co-workers jealous.

Apparently, he and his friends were pretty much living off canteen food. One of his buddies, let's call him Corey cuz that's his name, eats two reheated pizza slices and 2 hot dogs for breakfast. EVERY DAY. Yuck.

So... when Friend B. heats up a lunch of, say, roasted chicken leg and vegetable-fried rice, his friends tend to sniff around him, enviously.

Monday B. had pasta with my Famous Spag Sauce(tm). Today, chicken. Tomorrow, pork tenderloin with a double-stuffed potato and an apple/raspberry garnish.

Like I said... if I'm cooking for myself I won't eat. If I have to cook for someone else, I manage.

Though my new jeans are size 7.

Heh.

I benchpress 18 litres

2007-11-16T23:00:00.000-05:00

Of water, that is.

I get a very large thing of water (the big blue plastic containers seen most often in office settings) as needed via the milkman, but up until recently I had the Teen to help me hoist it and funnel pure spring water into 2L bottles, which we'd then keep in the fridge and then refunnel into smaller bottles for various excursions.

Yesterday was my first time tilting the vast blue jug (for want of a better word) on my own. I tried to manage 18 litres in one hand and a 2L bottle with funnel atop in the other. Didn't take more than a few seconds to realize this defied the laws of physics and my own capabilities.

I found a compromise, though. Large 18L jug sorta of leaning on the kitchen counter into a tall water glass; then pour contents of glass into plastic bottles via funnel.

It takes some grunting and a wee bit of spillage, but it works, and it means I don't have to drink tap water.

Post-sales service

2007-11-12T22:43:00.001-05:00

You'd think that "regular" people like Heather (dooce) and Jon would be more human? Nope.

Here's the thank-you note I got for ordering their calendar. Note the freaking TYPO.

Thanks for puchasing a Blurbodoocery product! We hope you enjoy it.

Heather & Jon Armstrong
http://www.dooce.com
http://www.blurbomat.com

I love puchasing things. Dooce just lost cred with me on two fronts (not that I am big potatoes or a large carp in a small cow field or backyard koi pond, respectively. ) Just saying: they lost it on the two areas that matter the most to me or, indeed, to any loyal customer/reader : proper supervision of your writing staff and decent customer appreciation. No less a man than Lileks made me walk away from his Bleat as a fanatic reader and purchaser of his books for the very reason that his drive for spending so much time on his blog(s) and late-night TiVo didn't quite jive with feeding his daughter microwave mac & cheese.

I am not holier than thou but I abhor crap customer relations (and btw, Lileks didn't appear to give a shit beyond his Amazon credits.)

It's raining!

2007-11-12T19:50:00.000-05:00

It's damp and disgusting out there and it's raining when it should, by all rights, be snowing.

Sheesh.

Plus... I am watching a defective TV movie! (Not for much longer, mind you.) It's the strangest thing... you can hear all the sounds from the various tracks EXCEPT the voices of the actors. Birds are cheeping, background noises of all kinds are there, but all you can see is the actors mouthing their words.

I thought at first it was a stylistic pretension... but now I realize it's just a fatal flaw. Ah, well! Cue the next DVD!

(Later: even better. The next movie on the SUPR channel (remind me not to order that one from ExpressVu) has DELAYED dubbing. Bad, just truly bad... although the movie is pretty crap, too... I'll Always Know What you Did Last Summer... a sequel spawned by a truly horrific first film. Oh! No! I just remembered. I think an actress, was it Sarah M. Geller, who screamed so much in the first movie, I actually cheered when she got the hook? Yeah, I think so. Sick? Not so much. Healthy dose of reality more like.)

Better, thanks

2007-11-10T15:42:00.000-05:00

Snide voice mails will not make me want to pick up the phone.

Have rented a couple of Grindhouse productions and those, on the other hand, make me want to blog. So far, Planet Terror with Bruce Willis and Freddy Rodriguez (of Six Feet Under fame) is, well, you know... gritty and gory and as cheesy as the box art. But with real talent on the roster.

I could be the only person I know who can salivate for BBQ ribs while watching a cannibal movie.

Just sayin.' A tad jaded.

I went into work Friday evening and the lights in the store were painful for the (thankfully-subsiding) migraine of the previous day. I've discovered that no-name extra strength acitominaphen (hope I spelled that correctly?) is more effective than Tylenol. Two days without coffee surely helped the headache go away, too... although I've known people who said caffeine withdrawal actually gives them a headache.

So I gambled, and brought a Starbucks iced frap with me. It was delicious.

And the evening at the store went by pretty well after only one crying spell! Just one!

I think I'm over the first phase of empty-nest shock now.

In fact, I saw the Teen today and he's in a good place. More on that eventually, prolly on the other blog which, apparently, more people read.

I got me a piece of Dooce

2007-11-08T15:06:00.001-05:00

In an attempt to make myself feel a bit better, I went online and ordered one of Dooce's Chuck calendars. (All rights reserved, dooce.com)

Who says retail therapy doesn't work. Hah! I bought some beautiful original art cards from deej and the Dooce daily-dog torture calendar, and pretty soon I'll be able to pay off the rest of my Xmas order from Regalo Boutique (owners: Mindy & Chris).

It's just if I actually had all these goods in my hot little hands right now, I would feel a whole lot more human.

Le sigh. Yes, I will get over this phase soon. Just as soon as I land on the Moon or get a bit part in CSI: Miami with David Caruso arching his red eyebrows in skeptical fashion at me. Or something. Something unusual. That would be nice, right about now.

PS: Also? Dooce tried to make smoothies with a chunk of frozen fruit! Hah! Done that! Dinnent burn out my blender, though!

She came this close to commanding an Entreprise

2007-11-07T15:02:00.000-05:00

I had no idea how really interesting Genevieve Bujold's life has been. Her Catholic school education, her temper on the set, and this: In 1994, she signed on to play the lead character, Captain Nicole Janeway, in the American television series Star Trek: Voyager. However she dropped out after filming just a few scenes of the series' first episode, stating that a TV series work schedule was too demanding.

Go here to read more about her.

She has a co-starring part in a movie that's on the tube at the moment, Delivrez-moi, which is one of those hard-hitting made-in-Quebec films. One of those really depressing movies.

I've always thougth she was a cool chickie. And I always pointed out Bujold to my Teen as an example of an actor who can really act. This woman has more talent in her little finger than 10 (insert name here: who? um... Andie McDowell, Julia Roberts, and a few blondes I won't even mention.)

She was in Dead Ringers with Jeremy Irons, among other roles.

So, the boy moved out.

2007-11-03T12:01:00.000-05:00

And so starts a new phase in my life, and his.

I'm not feeling overly bereft... yet... but the apartment seems awfully quiet without the sounds of the ever-present Fight Channel!

I think my biggest challenge will be making real meals for myself. At least when he was under my wing, it forced me to come up with a varied menu at all times and always make sure he got his veggies. Cooking for myself? Maybe not so scrupulous. I will try, however.

My grocery shopping habits will be different, of course. No more granola bars (bleck, for the most part) or cookies or Yop yogurt drinks to buy.

From now on, my mess is my mess and I clean up only after myself. No more stray hairs and fingernail clippings in the bathroom sink. Less laundry to do (although I have a load of his sitting here waiting... since he took the bus into town, he brought only what he could carry). Many fewer megs of HD space taken up with rap music.

His best buddy here in cowtown was upset that he moved. In fact, he reacted in downright hostile fashion. I had to explain to the Teen that Dark was unhappy because he felt he was losing a friend. But I know they'll keep in touch, at least for awhile.

As for us, we'll be in touch by phone and, of course, MSN.

And for Cootie's part... well, I can tell she's wondering what's up. She's been following me around today. She was always very partial to him.

So life goes on. Just a little differently, is all.

PS, later: I forgot to mention.... no more Pr0N on my puter! A few days ago I found a bunch of really sick files the boy had downloaded. I promptly deleted them and gave him a talking-to. This was not rotten.com stuff here or even Britney or Kim K videos... but rather, unmentionables that I figure most teens are curious about. Still, I'll give the kid kudos for cleaning up all the rest of the stuff he had on this machine... photos of online contacts, music, MSN chats which I wouldn't have read anyway. I have this thing about Pr0N ever since I found cache files of kiddie photos on my ex-b/f's computer. Sick bastard denied it all, but I will forever wonder about him.

Closed

2007-10-31T13:05:00.001-05:00

One of several tiny country churches in the region; they are much the same in style and size, and many are closed permanently. Since my childhood, when we explored an ancient, rambling "haunted" house in the city where I was born, I've had the urge to break into abandoned buildings and look around.

I'm sure there's nothing much to see in the churches. Most of these 100-year+ houses of worship didn't even have stained glass windows.

What your browser says about you...

2007-10-30T14:29:00.000-05:00

Borrowed from Cara's place...

Retail clerk = bartender

2007-10-26T09:37:00.000-05:00

On a particular day last week, we had three ladies come in, browse through the racks, and talk about their recent cold/flu/infection/pneumonia/operation/hospital stay.

I am told this happens frequently.

I've also heard about ongoing battles with diets and weight loss, a generalized hatred of turtleneck sweaters, grief for a defunct parent, frustration in the confines of an old-age residence and complaints about middle-age bulges.

Afraid to fly, can't drive

2007-10-24T08:26:00.001-05:00

One of the ladies I work with has never had a vacation beyond the borders of our province. Never even taken a road trip to, say, Vermont or Maine or NYC.

I hope to be able to say that sometime before I die I will make it overseas (carrot sticks and Nicorette gum willing). I think it's sad that someone's fear of airplanes and inability to drive has kept her from experiencing a different place.

Mind you, this is the same person who's been working for minimum wage for 7 years. I suspect "change" isn't a big word in her vocabulary.

My butt hurts

2007-10-21T08:41:00.000-05:00

Must be something about working on one's feet.

Here's another guy I love to bits, next to Brooce and Prince.

Let the thing play. Guy's a guitar genius.

Brooooce!*

2007-10-12T10:19:00.000-05:00

He was younger then, and so was I.

I remember seeing Springsteen in concert, a long long time ago. Four hours of insane showmanship.

He's got a new album out, Magic.

Through the magic of the internet, I have a couple tunes from his new disk. It's an album worth owning. Just as soon as I have the $21 required to buy it at the local store, I will support Broooce!

*(I recall wondering why the crowd seemed to be booing him. Then I was told they were chanting his name.)

Name that drug dot com

2007-10-12T08:50:00.000-05:00

I failed at #3... how will you do?

http://www.namethatdrug.com/

(found at the blog of handsome devil Markiss; been calling him <---- that for years now, not that he's noticed...)

About blogging friendships

2007-10-11T13:33:00.000-05:00

Stolen from a commenter on another site:

Oh the comfort,
the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person,
having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,
but pouring them all right out, just as they are
chaff and grain together
certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping,
and with the breath of kindness
blow the rest away.

Rehab, the non-famous kind

2007-10-11T03:04:00.001-05:00

I don't feel sorry for celebrities who have substance abuse problems (unless they are named Owen Wilson).

I don't feel that they are suffering much when they pay thousands of dollars for a place overlooking the ocean and get access to massages, manicures, pedicures, canoeing, hiking, roller-blading as this little poptart (photo, above) had until she tested positive for cocaine and left her expensive haven.

Louise had a snippet on her blog about this: Watching the Snapple Lady cry on Celebrity Fit Club, and trying to figure out how come if they’re in drug rehab, certain celebrities (not the ones on my beloved Fit Club, that’s for sure) are still able to get massages and manicures/pedicures.

Rehab might be nice if you have the money to pay for a 5-star place with French cuisine, lounge with fireplace, canopies over cushy beds. I remember writing about such a place for PayPerPost sometime earlier this year.

Real rehab is dingy. No-frills. Quite institutional, really.

It's about not going outside at all, except in the fenced strip of backyard facing a grungy alleyway in the most vibrant centre of a cosmopolitan city. Or at the front door (this was the second rehab) where you really could walk away if you chose to.

Watching the even lesser grunge of humanity walk down the alley or parking lot and stare at you like an animal in a zoo, 'cuz you have that bracelet on your wrist that brands you as an "inmate."

It's about wire mesh on windows and windows that don't open more than a foot wide, lest you slip out. Like you couldn't walk out any time you wanted.

It's about no lock on your bedroom or bathroom door.

It's about pre-fab food made by some organization that couldn't muster even the quality to land the contract with Air Canada's food services. When even first-class airline food is borderline in the edibility department, rehab is more along the lines of hospital food. Predictable, bland, without a smidgen of humanity or imagination.

It's about feeling so low and so removed from the rest of the world that you are grateful even for the food, the free tea, the ability to smoke cigarettes, to swear, cry or shout.

I never shouted, mind you.

It's about being treated like a child with a disability. Being talked to slowly and clearly, as though you were deaf, dumb, or demented. Or just old and infirm.

It's about looking at the downtown skyline at night and wishing you were normal enough to share the real world with everyone else who somehow, magically, doesn't have your crippling disease. Listening to morning traffic and snatches of conversation as people walk past the building. Feeling invisible to the world, shut away.

It's about walking out a week or a month later and feeling dizzy from the sudden wide-openness. Feeling like you might just fall down because of those muscles you didn't use in any meaningful way except for a 12-metre hallway from bedroom to office to kitchen to smoking lounge. Feeling the scariness of complete freedom after willingly checking yourself into prison. Knowing you'll most likely fail again. Wishing you could just turn around and go back in for another week, where you know at least somebody's watching out for you. But you have to pay your rent, so you walk out, free.

The Lindsays of this world have no idea how good they really have it.

Midweek odds & ends

2007-10-10T08:24:00.000-05:00

Dunno about the "expert" part...

Morning conversation:
Him: I don't know what to eat this morning.
Me: Make hot cereal. It's a cold day.
Him: Meh. I don't feel like making it.
Me: Well, don't look at me.
(later)
Him: What should I eat?
Me: How 'bout ham & eggs?
Him: Only if you make it.
Me: Sorry, not today.
(later)
Him: I'll just have yogurt.
Me: You'll be nauseous with hunger and cranky by lunchtime.
Him: Yeah, whatever.
Me (relenting): At least take a couple of granola bars to school.
Him: Good idea.

Little things make me happy. Like a new tube of Colgate Total (who says advertising doesn't get ya?) and a honking big bottle of Listerine (which, at approx. $8, is actually a luxury item in this house.) Oh, and a new blow dryer.

Is it just me, or does Jake look like Son of Frankenstein in this picture? Or possibly the offspring of Frankenstein and Mel Gibson?

Here's a product for women that I can't imagine was invented by a woman. Then again, there were tampons I tried once that were apparently designed by a female obgyn, and I hated them.

Would YOU use the Diva Cup?

Unintentionally funny, a testimonial from an alleged user:
"Truly the best invention since sliced bread (...)!!!!

First off, I am not a gusher; it’s just not an aspect of my personality, BUT...Oh My God! I L-O-V-E my new Diva cup!!"

Not a gusher? Considering the product she was writing about, she should have reread her email before hitting Send.

And thanks were given

2007-10-08T21:55:00.000-05:00

I made a Thanksgiving dinner that involved slightly more than my usual hasty sprinkling of herbes de Provence on fowl or my amazing one-hour chili™ or something equally quick and mindless.

I was cooking for the Teen and a guest, and not only was it a painless meal to prepare and cook, it was also well-received and conversation was fun.

It makes me feel the urge to have guests more often, even though our tiny kitchen table only seats 4... (not to mention just 4 chairs.)

I received the gift of a beautiful, thick, deep-blue carpet today, a rather large one that will fit pretty perfectly on the living room floor. It was donated, via a friend, by a wealthy lady who has too much stuff. She would have thrown it in the garbage. Because that's how the rich are.

The carpet, which is in pristine condition, is most welcome, because when we moved into this apartment in April the floating floor was cold. Made me wonder what winter would be like. Now winter's right around the corner and the timing of this plushy floor covering is good.

My landlady gave me the warm fuzzies, too, yesterday, while I was on my last day at Hotel Hell. She dropped by and left two large sample bottles of Tres Semme hair "Hair Thrive Color Block" product given to her by a friend. Funny how people can be so nice when you least expect it.

I actually enjoyed my first day of unemployment from the hotel job. I had several leisurely chores to do, time to chat with some neighbours, do my groceries, make and enjoy dinner, and even look over old pictures of my kid when he was young -- pictures of himself and friends he'd not seen in ages.

All in all, it was a Thanksgiving with much for which to be grateful.

P.S. The pumpkin pie, with filling from a can but with an added whole egg and evaporated milk, was scrumptious. With vanilla ice cream. Or at least, so I was told; I had only one bite of pie filling, strictly for quality-control purposes.

Thanksgiving

2007-10-05T08:38:00.001-05:00

Canadian Thanksgiving is next Monday and I have the dubious pleasure of working. I need to inquire with the labour standards commission if I am supposed to be paid time-and-a-half, but I doubt that will be the case since I've only been on the job 2 full weeks and am, technically, still on "probation."

I was a little dismayed at the prospect of having to work, but then I remembered various siblings who've worked Christmases and other holidays... and while they didn't love it, they didn't complain much. You gotta do what you gotta do, and they managed, so I'm sucking it up.

Fortunately, the Teen and I can still do Thanksgiving dinner together, and I'll ask him if maybe he has a friend or two who'd like to join us. I work until 3 PM that day, which leaves me time to cook (although not a whole turkey!) and enjoy a meal. Although, basically, I could feed the Teen pumpkin pie with whipped cream and nothing else, and he would be thrilled.

RESTED!

2007-10-04T08:41:00.000-05:00

Amazing! This is the first day in 2.5 weeks that I have felt completely rested upon awakening.

However, I have a full day of translation ahead of me, so who knows how I'll feel by the time I am supposed to go out for dinner with a friend. I already know I'd rather stay home and veg out.

Cause for severe embarrassment

2007-10-03T13:10:00.000-05:00

Ya'll know I've been working two jobs for a couple of week now, and am pretty much always tired and short on leisure time. That includes housework, which has suffered to some extent, although I do try to keep up appearances.

Yesterday (and, I admit, for at least two days prior to that) I'd noticed the toilet bowl was getting, shall we say, grungy.

To my amazement last night, when I went in to clean it, I found it had already been done! I thought to myself, "Gol-ly! The Teen actually cleaned the toilet without being asked!" This would have been a first in his lifetime.

Today, he and his buddy "Dark" (we are not permitted to call him by his real name, but must use the infinitely cooler nickname) came home for lunch and I happened to mention to Alex that I was happy that he'd taken the initiative in the bathroom. But Alex looked at me oddly and said, "I didn't do it." Then Dark raised his hand.

I really don't know what else I can say on this matter.

More photos

2007-09-28T09:54:00.000-05:00

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

2007-09-24T22:05:00.001-05:00

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!