...

Oh.

Hi, blog.

Long time no visit. I'd like to say that I'm taking this opportunity to get back on the wagon, and make all kinds of grand pronouncements about devotion to daily writing and crap like that, but let's be honest with each other, shall we? I'm busy. Things will probably never be the same between us - I don't have a crazy lifestyle worth writing about; you don't care to hear about my boring every day lifestyle.

But you are my blog, goshfukkit and if I feel like boring your pants off, well then heck I will.

So there.

yeah so

Two months down the road and not much has changed. I'm a year older and a year dumber and same old.

Distressing news for those of you who have been following the life of the kiddo. After breaking up with his high school sweetheart he took up with a party girl and lost himself head over heels. Sadly, though, he fell back into his party ways and has been delving a bit too deeply.

Now she's dumped him and he's bereft and I'm hearing it all second hand, of course, because I'm thousands of miles away and I don't know what to do. I feel like crying and puking my guts out and tearing out my hair but of course none of those things are helpful.

Any words of advice or whatever would be appreciated.

Pdjjaaag

Fireworks and charred meat

Another semi-eventful US birthday celebration spent here in the bear republic. We didn't actually do too much - pulled our bbq out onto the sidewalk/lawn in front of our apartment and chilled with drinks and some neighbours - but it was a good time. We all talked about doing it more often. I have to admit it reminded me of being back home on the front balcony with the sister and the architect, except all that could be heard from three sides was the distant boom boom thrump of fireworks.

The fourth side was, of course, my fancy new MGMT Pandora station. Have I mentioned how much I love Pandora? And Jian Ghomeshi, despite some apparent internet backlash against him. Granted this backlash is half a decade old. Is he a douchebag? Or was all that controversy mitigated by Billybobgate? And he was in Moxy Fruvous? Who knew? Does this change how I feel?

Well not really, since the basis of my deep emotional thrust towards Toronto is based entirely on three words: "Well hi there". I don't actually need to listen to the rest of the program, as long as I have heard that. Sad but true.

Summertime CBC

Happy day after Canada Day! Though technically it's not a holiday, here, I am unemployed so was free to sleep off my hangover, eat PB & Banana sammiches in my chonies, and get crumbs in the bed before heading down to San Diego's only real option as a Canadian bar - an Irish pub owned by someone from Vancouver.

We drank Labatt's Blue and Moosehead (neither of which I'd ever drink in Canada, btw), I handed out dollar store Canada pencils, and had a jolly good time.

Things I've (re-)learned about myself whilst listening to the Ceeb this AM:

1) So they were playing a documentary about living on Fair Isle off the coast of Scotland and I was reminded of how I have a strong desire to live in the middle of nowhere in a small place. I mean, I'm a city girl but at the same time I've got just enough granola in my sushi to make me yearn for a simpler life. Of course I have a total black thumb and am seriously addicted to dinners out and easily accessible cheap red wine so I've no idea how that would work.

2) I have a crush on Jian Ghomeshi(sp) that is based entirely on how he says "well hi there" at the beginning of Q every day. Yes I'm a loser.

Tenuous grasp fingertips of mortality

I had a phone message this morning from a former neighbour. I guess one of the other fellows who lived there passed away yesterday, after spending 8 days in a coma. I don't know any details, just that his husband is trying to sort out all the details and deal with everything and that a fantastic human being isn't here anymore.

I have to admit that I feel a bit guilty. This man was a caring human being who did his best to make us feel welcome when we lived in that little complex and I feel like we didn't do enough to show our appreciation or friendship. You always think that you should call or visit, and then you get caught up in what you are doing and it slips your mind. No big deal, you think, I'll pop in the next time I'm in the area.

Actually I thought that exact thing on Thursday, when I was at the salon down the street. I should pop over and see if anyone is around... say hi... but I didn't. Of course, by that point it was too late, and Chris was already in a coma that he wasn't going to wake up from. I didn't know that, though, and maybe his husband would be there and need a hug or just a quiet ear.

It is almost a miracle that they managed to get married during the short time it was legal here in California, since he spent his last 8 days in ICU. His husband had to show the hospital their marriage certificate just to get into see him.

That's two people I've met in SD who have passed away this summer. Is it the age? Now that I'm in my mid 30s my friends and acquaintances are going to start dropping like flies? Ick.

Just beat it.

Am I the only one who's already tired of hearing about Michael Jackson's untimely death? I can't possibly be. It's all over twitter, the facebook, the rest of the innerwebs, and even my beloved CBC. Sighs.

So I've decided on a name for my little business. For the sake of world's colliding privacy, I shan't post it here, but if you send me a little email I'll send you a link to the in progress website. It is not, by any means, anywhere near completion so be merciful, please.

So we were supposed to go to a little cocktail hour last night for the architect's work, but by the time he got home he was totally tired and not into it. There I was all little black dress & camel leather shoes, pretty hair & perfume, not a dinner preparation in sight and he wants to veg on the couch.Fortunately I've become a recent convert to a big salad with a poached or soft boiled egg on top, so we had that for dinner along with some bruschetta, and it all turned out awesome. Since I've been unemployed I've been making increasingly elaborate meals during the week - it's not like I've got much else to do, after all - and I kind of forgot how sometimes a light, simple meal can be super satisfying.

Not that I'm turning this into a food blog, or anything, just sayin'.

Stretch out your legs and dance with me

After an extremely low key yet somehow rather rewarding weekend I find myself unwilling to make the transition to my day to day weekly routine.

And when I say routine I mean walking to the library and/or grocery store, cleaning, and lounging on the patio vs lounging in my bed.

The idea of actually getting a job is something distant. It's not that I don't *want* to work - I do, and not making my own money is kind of awful - it's that I don't know how I would transition from being on my own slow southern time to being back in the workaday rush rush rush. Plus when would I cook? We'd be eating dinner every night at midnight if I were stuck in the commute home. These are the things I obsess about when I wake up at three am and can't get back to sleep, which has happened the last three nights in a row. Le sigh.

Discombobulated

So I got a facebook message last night from TNB (blast from the past), asking if I would write him a character reference letter.

Since it's not for a job, I assume that it is in reference to some kind of custody thing. I'm happy to do it of course, but I find it a bit ... weird isn't the right word. Interesting works, but in the old Chinese curse sense of the word. May you live in interesting times, indeed.

I need a name for my little business venture. I have some ideas for business cards (similar to the new blog header up top, there), stationery, advertising etc, but need a name before I can go much farther than that. Any suggestions would be welcome in the comments. My first instinct is to avoid the raspberry motif, but then it is something I am fond of, so who knows.

What a way to make a living

It occurs to me that it's time to consolidate the random things I've been doing and considering 'side projects' into one cohesive entity and call it a business. Really, if I were to market myself and the odds n sods of things I do (marketing, client database management, email blasts) I could probably bring in a small but regular income.

I have, of course, various self esteem issues that make me think this won't work but I'm not having any real luck with the job acquisition, I do want something that lets me make my own hours, and the economy sucks enough that where folks don't want to hire full time people they do look for temps. So why can't I be that person?

Sure it wouldn't get me out of the house, much, but if I keep my social life strong and schedule enough meetings so that I can wear fun shoes (I miss my fun shoes) I should be happy. Plus I could still do my crazy walks a couple of times a week. I do enjoy those.

It's not the best time to be starting a business, of course, but it's not the best time to be doing anything, really, and I don't need to start making a tonne of money right away so I have that security. It's either this or apply at Target or Albertsons and I'm not sure I'm ready to destroy my soul that completely.

Yet, anyway.

cupcake siren song

So the lovely lady who made our wedding cake had a birthday party last night, and celebrated by filling an entire dining room table with desserts to share with her friends. Oh and she made carnitas for tacos as well, and her mom brought homemade salsa (yes, they are Mexican). I did a lap of the dessert table, ate some tacos, then did two more laps of the dessert table. Washed the works down with several glasses of extremely tasty Malbec and rolled my way home.

And I wonder why I can't lose weight? Heh.

In my defense, I came home with a takeaway full of cupcakes & cake & other treats and have managed to resist them thus far this AM. Oh except for one chocolate covered strawberry, which sucked me in as I dug in the fridge for my leftover barley brunch. See I was *trying* to be good...

*sigh*

Didn't get the job. They went with a temp.
Fuck.

Progress

So I had a job interview yesterday... it's basically an office manager position with a smattering of proofreading, marketing support, and administration. Basically a mixed bag of stuff that would be different every day and right up my alley.

I can imagine I'd be extremely exhausted for the first weekmonth, after being unemployed for a year and a half, but hell. I'd also be veritably loaded. The thought of being able to go shopping on payday and pick myself up a little something cute, the way I used to with Ms U every other Friday, makes me grin rather excessively.

I wore my fancy new interview suit - it had to impress, right? I felt a bit unsure of the whole experience when I came out but my secret inside source said they really liked me, so here's hoping they don't have many other people to compare me too. I was nervous.

What, me, nervous? Never!

I also seriously overspent in VanCity - I treated the kiddo to brunch & drinks, then bought him a bunch of groceries and some treats. Add this to the general expenses that come with a bit of a vacation and you come up with a broke sundae. At least if I'm working full time I won't feel so guilty about spending all of our money and putting us in a tight spot until payday. Sigh.

OK got to get moving - got my walk this AM and I need to not be still in my jammies when she shows up....

These boots were made for

Ug so my friend and I do this walk. It's almost 6miles long and involves a frickin serious hill. Because of the brother visiting, then being sick as a dog, we haven't gone in a month.

A month is a long time to talk off from walking 6miles of hills. Today, I kind of felt like I was going to yak most of the way home. Lord.

I've added a couple of links to the blogroll on the side. One is my little brother who's recently started to write again, much to my joy and delight.

The second is one that I found via someone else's link list and is quite heartbreaking and well written. It has the level of personal introspection and revelation that I think I *used* to manage but haven't lately. Check it out.

Tonight we go to see The Constantines! I'm very excited even though I seriously overspent in Vancity so have no cash left for drinks or tshirts or anything of that ilk. If I get some good photos I'll be sure to post.

Dude.

So I'm going to Vancouver tonight and I wish there was some way I could drop 10 el-bees off my gut/face/tits between now and then. Since I've moved here I've gained easily that much and I want it gone.

Sadly, though, I lack the drive to actually get out and run my ass around the town, so it's probably not going anywhere.

The problem with facebook and its ilk is that a)you get weird feelings when you see what your ex-boy/girlfriends are doing and b)you can see how hot and skinny you USED to be.

Let's address those issues, shall we?

a) The exboyfriends. I think that people get into trouble because the grass is always greener. You have some poor shlub/shlubbette who can see that Mr/Ms ex is looking good and happy and they forget that they're flatulent, boorish bedhogs. We have weird access into the lives of people who should be left behind. They aren't the ones who got away, they are the ones you left in your wake for a reason. BTW - I'm not addressing myself here, in case some of you are concerned. I mean, I do have odd twinges when I see one or two of the exes looking good, but I think that's pretty normal. I'm thinking of a friend who re-connected with someone recently and ended up rushing into the emotional side of stuff, without much provocation. Her girly brain took over, she read things into their communication, and she basically lived out a relationship in her brain, without him having a clue. Bummer.

b) Fuck I used to be hot and skinny. Now I'm fat & heiferlike. Dude, seriously. It really is depressing the heck out of me. So what do I do? Why, soothe myself with wine and chocolate, of course. Fuck. FUCK. I would like to get a gastric band, or take some diet pills or something. I can't get my ass up to exercise - I hate that shit I really do - and starving myself is even harder. I actually miss my allergies - at least when I was puking everything up I was skinny. Sigh.

Oh yeah I know it's been a month. Sorry. I have problem B with the blog, too - it's like I go back and remember how hot and witty I used to be and now I find myself lacking. I'm having fucked up self esteem issues with both my meat world and wide world personas. Nice, huh?

#canucks, #swineflu

Ooooo look at me mixing medias. You know - what with the twitter format of my post title. Yeah.

It's really no wonder that I have trouble keeping up with the bloggity. I mean, even with being unemployed I feel media saturated half the time - there's the twitter and the facebook and the gchat and the scratching. Oh ok maybe not the scratching, but my google reader sure as heck takes up a lot of my time.

So I'm still unemployed. Well, I mean I've been doing freelance graphic design stuff, yeah, but that's it. It's not really enough to pay the bills, that's for sure. I do wish I could find enough editting/graphic design work to fund myself because I really dig making my own schedule, but I don't think that's practical.

I've got my name in with a recruiter and they've got a contract for me, but the company requires the world's most frustrating background check *ever*. Well I guess it wouldn't be frustrating if I weren't stuck between Canada & the US but getting info between the two countries is not easy. Oh and they keep sending me new forms to fill out. Stupid.

It makes me totally nervous, though - like what if my crappy credit causes me to get rejected for a job? How weaksauce / ironic would that be? I mean, duh I've got crappy credit - I've been unemployed for a year and a half. Hire me and let's get to work on that, hm?

Anyhoo.... As a complete aside, every time I hear the news refer to Janet Napolitano (US Secretary of Homeland Security) I think they are talking about Johnette Napolitano, former vocalist for Concrete Blonde. It's messing with my head, yo.

stupid uterus

OK so am I the only person who spends two days each month longing for menopause? *SERIOUSLY*.

I've been a bad blogger again. I find it really hard to get into the groove of writing every day... It's funny but somewhere in my head I began to doubt myself. I went from chronicling every pimple and orgasm to thinking "aw no one wants to hear about that garbage". How am I so much less narcissistic than I used to be? Is it because I'm fat and happy, instead of thin and miserable?

Oh speaking of not being thin anymore, I am beginning to realize that the fat probably also has something to do with the fact that I don't yak up 4/7 meals anymore. I mean, I still throw up far more than the average Joe, but the involuntary bulimia really is no more. Yay for being able to eat eggs again! Boo for needing a new bikini because the knockers refuse to be contained!

exorcise me

So it's Good Friday which is a much bigger deal in Canada than it is in the US. I have no idea why - Puritan heritage? Stubborn refusal to embrace the three (or four) day weekend?

Either way.

Someone on the CBC is talking about exorcisms and the modern Catholic Church. I guess in Italy there are 300-400 alone. In 2005, 500K people came to see an exorcism. I wonder if these people really need exorcisms, or if they just need a hug? I dunno. I'm not sure I believe in the fact that people can be possessed by evil spirits. I mean, I *do* believe that it can happy, but 500K in one year?

I'd like to exorcise myself from the ghosts of my past. It's funny how sometimes they start rattling around in my head like ebenezer's spirits, brandishing their chains and moaning about wrongs inflicted and received. Last night was one of those nights - an inbox full of memories, not all of them good.

(The CBC has switched from exorcism to organic farming. Are they trying to say something about something being full of shit? No comment from this peanut)

Parklife

So I'm sitting in a cafe in my *old* hood waiting to go to work at the salon. I had previously scheduled a hot n heavy breadbaking lesson but got called in around 10pm last night. Sadly, my finances are not as of yet such that I can decline $70 in favour of wine and baking.

*sigh*

At any rate, I'm here in the cafe. The guy behind the counter is cute in a slight, might be gay, is definitely married way, so I have at least a bit of eye candy whilst I wait.

I could probably wander over there now, but would have to make conversation with the nail tech who, though nice, isn't really the most interesting person on the planet.

Downside to being a receptionist in a hair/nail salon: listening to the stylists tell the same story to each of their clients with very little variation in tone or verbage. Plus side is, of course, that they're all super cool folks and I get to chat with people all day. The cats, though lovely, are nocturnal and tend to nap all day. Not the best company.

This work thing should, though, really start later in the day while still ending early enough for me to enjoy my glass of wine in the late afternoon sun. The architect and I had our first patio/wine/book evening of the spring the other night and it was extremely pleasant. Now we just need a table big enough for dominoes or cards and another one or two people comfortable enough to pop by and enjoy it with us.

Smells like California

So way back in the day I used to have a little jasmine plant in my bedroom, sitting on the ledge by my bed. Now I live in a place where I have a huge hedge worth blooming about 6 feet from my back door. The smell's almost overwhelming, but in a good way.

It seems like everything is so much more alive here: the smells the sounds the light the people the sky. Everything is so much more vivid. I didn't think a smell could be vivid, but I guess it can.

It reminds me a bit of being in Spain: stepping off the plane and being accosted by sweet-scented humidity, so different from anything that I'd ever experienced. I feel that all the time now. California smells good. Quite the change for a girl who grew up surrounded by clouds of polluted air, redolent with sulphur.

Anyone ever make slippers from their cat?

I'm seriously tempted at the moment. The stupid cats decided that this weekend would be a great time to break out their new scheduling - that is, the hours between 2-5AM are devoted to tearing around the apartment like thundering battlecats. 5-6 is for sitting at the back door whining to be let outside (even though they are indoor cats and have limited outdoor time, always on a leash). Oh and somewhere between 12-2 one of the two of them drops a stink in the catbox that is seriously bad enough to wake me up and melt the paint off the walls.

God.

Fucking Mondays. How can I hate Mondays so much even though I'm unemployed? Is it just years of indoctrination? Popular culture has clockwork oranged me into hating Mondays with an supersaturation of Office Space / Bangles / Boomtown Rats references?

Best quote ever (just heard on the CBC during an interview with the Ting Tings): 'fertile ground for whimsy'. Whimsy is word that is not used nearly enough. They kind of remind me of Elastica, a bit, though that might be my 90s scenesterism talking.

Speaking of hipsters, how can you define a social class as hip when they've looked exactly the same since about 1979? And why am I devoting so much though to this issue? It's not as though it's an original thought or anything. I'm sure that people all over the world are currently smoking gauloise cigarettes, drinking black coffee and debating that very fact. (though the actual year - 1979 - at which the 'hipster' look coalesced and froze could be a point of heated debate)

Have I mentioned that I'm on day two of uterine cramps? Like how is it that I'm almost and yet still get pimples and cramps. What kind of fucked up existence is this? All I can say is that I'm fucking proof positive that we are not living in the matrix because some mother fucking female alien would have programmed that shit out.

annum

So it has, believe it or not, been a year since the architect and I got hitched.

I'm pretty pleased with that situation.

I mean, they say the first year is the hardest. I dunno if I believe that, but I do know that we made it through ok and that I'm just as certain I'd marry him today as I did 364 days ago. (technically our anniversary is tomorrow but we got married on the Saturday and this time last year I was getting my nails did so.....)

When I look back through this blog I read about how I was so convinced I'd never be getting married - always be on my own (probably still in my parents' basement), always be sad. Just goes to show, I suppose, that there is someone out there for everyone.

Here's to many more
xo

Friday Night Lights

I'm 3/quarters of the way through a bottle of red; the cats are passed out in their favourite spots beside me; the fireplace is pumping; the husband is asleep in the bedroom with a migraine.

I'm trying to write a story about a fish in a bowl. It was commissioned by TNB for reasons beyond my comprehension. I've got a picture in my head of green light reflected on water, ripples above, sounds muffled by glass. It's harder to translate into a narrative, though.

Harder still to understand what he's asking for, but if he asks for a story I'll take him at face value. To look deeper into the motivations of men is to fly to close to the sun and risk the melt and the fall.

Kind of Blue

It's the 50th anniversary of the recording of Miles Davis' Kind of Blue today, so I'm playing it this afternoon, I think, while I'm doing my photoshop futzing about.

I know about this anniversary because I've finally got my CBC RadioONE working through my innerweb. I've really missed CBC. I may have mentioned it before this, but NPR just isn't the same. I was really worried about the programming changes a couple of years ago and will never forgive them for taking Northern Lights off the air (that program soothed me to sleep over the course of so many bad nights I can't even count them), but the Q is seriously entertaining. Today they interviewed Andy Samberg's comedy troupe and talked about the Canada Reads program. Oh and played a killer listener call response to yesterday's feature on the movie Rip, which is a discussion of dj music, copyright law, sampling and creativity.

Ooo I have a job interview tomorrow. It's for a position that I'm not particularly qualified for, and for which I am pretty sure that they're going to hire a grad student who is currently doing the job, but it's an interview nonetheless. I'm extremely nervous, am too fat for my work clothes, and wish I could have a cocktail before heading in to soothe my brain.

angst on the planks

So it was a pretty bad weekend for the depression, and I'm trying to think of how to prevent it from becoming a pretty bad week. A job offer would surely help, but I'd settle from a massive influx of cash from a long lost uncle or forgotten lottery ticket. I think that a shopping spree and perhaps a quick adventure would do wonders towards cheering me up.

In other worlds I think that everyone should develop a system of hand signals for communication in busy places. Like, beyond the panicked "get me out of this conversation / place in general" esp that couples have. To me, having a set of unique gestures brings a certain panache to every day coversation, don't you agree? If you could find someone to document you using them in black and white photos, perhaps while wearing cool vintage clothing, all the better.

die in your dreams, falling on your knife

Last night I did the thing I do where I wake up and have to pee so do and then get a drink and then can't fall back to sleep. I lay awake for god knows how long, trapped in a reverie of bad memory.

It never ceases to amaze me how the razor sharp edge of bad experience is always so close to the surface of your consciousness when you lie awake in the night.

In any case, when I did fall back to sleep I couldn't shake the dis-ease and so my dreams were turbulent. I awoke feeling shredded, lost, alone, on the verge of ... something I can't seem to articulate.

The architect has to work for a while today and I don't really want to be here by myself. He procrastinated his departure (as usual) even though I kept asking him to get it over with so that he could come back and we could do something.

Anything to shake me out of this headspace, or else I'm afraid I'll be in bed all day, all week, all year.

Flashback

So check this:

TNB turned up on facebook yesterday. He added The Sister as a friend and she promptly msg'd me asking wtf happened and when he had a kid.

My heart about went through the floor b/c when I went and looked at the photos the child looks exactly like him and, for a moment, I think I know how guys feel when their females (or worse, recently ex females) miss their period.

I mean, it's clearly not MINE but my lizard brain refused to recognize that for about 40seconds.

This morning I got up and he'd added me as a friend and I looked at the picture again and it still made me feel a bit sick to my stomach.

Ick. Kids.

It's interesting

So when I was back up in Vancouver I decided to do a little experimenting with my life. I'm not sure if it's because being away from the architect automatically spurs me to indulge in actions that are spurious, at best, or if being on 'holiday' (though with the amount of running around I do while up there I never come home feeling like I've been relaxing) 'causes me to step outside of my comfort zone or what.

Anyway, as previously documented in these pages, I ate an egg. And praise be to Filthy for being the one friend who, when asked "Want to try an experiment?" responded with a hearty "yes", not a request for more details and then a 3hr long lecture on taking care of myself.

The other thing I did while I was there was to take myself off my meds.

I've been taking antidepressants for 3(?) years, now, and had just kind of thought they were going to be part of my life forever. Then, when I was doing my physical for immigration, the doctor (who was asian trained, so probably more conducive to thinking outside the constrains of Western Medicine (though that could be a raging stereotype)) asked why no one had ever suggested I come off them.

It started me thinking. Why *hadn't* anyone? Maybe it was time? I waited until I was out from under the watchful eye of the husband-person to do it and began tapering myself off - I mean, I'm really bad about remembering to take them, so I was pretty much at an every-other-day dose, so I moved it to three days, then four, then just stopped.

Instead, I'm taking a B-Complex and 5-HTP. And you know, I feel fine. More importantly, I *feel*. I didn't realize just how completely even keeled I've been - I've been missing the flashes of emotion I used to get: very happy or very sad. And I'm kind of enjoying having them back. I don't know if they are normal and, of course, I did this without consulting a doctor, but you know, for as long as things seem to be going ok then I'm going to stick with it.

It's a sad state of affairs

When I find myself driven to write not because I have something to say, but because every time I open my blog I am startled by my own breastesses.

So upon receipt of the green card (which would be better, of course, if it were available in pink), the architect and I met up with a couple of friends for happy hour celebrating. I actually do have a favourite spot for HH and, though it's not the cheapest spot in town, it's owned by a friend and the food is fan fricken tastic. Plus it's stylish and fun and the vibe is so welcoming. I love that.

Anyhoo, I drank too much and passed out cold before 9.30. Yay me! Saturday was the architect's birthday celebration - basically a repeat of friday except I didn't get drunk and pass out, I just fell asleep on the couch after we'd been out for drinks with a bunch of folks. We really have met a fun group of people down here. I do wish, though, I had some tight female friends. I miss hanging with the girls and going shopping. (vannasty, filthy, I'm sending "come hither" looks in your direction).

Blah.

My tits

Are now legal citizens of the USA. Can I getta a-men?!

So... new images

I'm possibly the luckiest girl in the world, in that I got pretty flowers and bee glasses and dinner at a french bistro and an afternoon adult-themed interlude in the shower. Of course I'm not *that* lucky because the sweet innie car is acting up, so we couldn't go watch hockey in anaheim today.

sigh.

Holy crap when I changed my shirt today, I took my bra off and there was a black cat hair stuck to my nipple and I had a minor heart attack. I saw my sexlife flash before my eyes and imagined weekly waxing sessions at the hair salon. Quelle mortification. Luckily, though, one of the cats was just wearing my bra when we were out last night. Does anyone else's pets romp through their undergarments when they aren't paying attention?

Yeah, didn't think so.

happy vd(ay)

So what with being at home all day I've had some time to get a little crafty. I like playing around with photoshop (I'm self-taught so not that remarkably skilled, as of yet), and I like words, so I muss about and combine them now and again. Take this little image, for example. I came up with it, borrowed a few lines from my main man bill shakespeare, and had them printed onto a transparency (you know, for overhead projectors). Then I folded the transparency over a piece of silvery vellum, stuck a square of pomegranate cardstock to the center of the vellum, wrote some smushy love crap on the cardstock and hey presto, a valentine for the architect.

Look at me go.

Vistors, busy, visitors

So a year ago today, the architect asked me to marry him. It's kind of shocking how fast the days have gone by, really. Two years ago we lived in our killer house in vancity and I had the flu. Three years ago I was trying to remember that it's best to stay sober before attempting to decorate cakes, in preparation for the sister's bday dinner. I was also still blogging <1 a day and publishing photos of my tah-tahs, but 3 years ago I was skinny so www/e.

I'd made some good inroads last week as far as healthy diet and exercise were concerned. Of course we promptly flew to Orlando and dove into a veritable orgy of business meals and cocktails, and now my folks are here so my routines are off. I really *REALLY* want to lose some weight in the next couple of months, though, so I've got to put my nose to the treadmill, as it were.

good morning

Apparently the architect's coffee is taking effect. Just heard from behind the bathroom door: "Oh my. I do say. That's quite delightful."

Heh.

cadbury mini eggs

Were back in the store in Canada. I haven't seen any here, yet, but considering the fact that american chocolate sucks just so much more than Canadian, I'm not on a huge quest.

I also ate a real egg when I was in Canada, and then had another one yesterday. Yay eggs for breakfast again! I've genuinely really truly missed eating eggs.

I apologize for the fractured and uninspiring nature of this blog post. Yesterday I was thinking I should really start daily writing because I usually have random thoughts etc. Today I can't recall one of those thoughts to save my life. I did just bust out my hand held massager, though. Good times.

Oh and I get to cross Florida off the list of states I've never visited as of next Thursday! Yay travelling!!!

I'm back

in Vancouver for a flying trip through the city. I currently have a belly full of way too much sushi purchased for me by the kiddo. This is mostly a good thing, except for the vague need to expel said sushi through the most convenient orifice.

I'm still vaguely butthurt by folks who never visit me, so I'm not going out of my way to spend a huge amount of time with them. I've told people my plans and given them the opportunity to tag along if that is their wont but my focus is on hanging with the kiddo and the fam.

It's incredible how fast a week goes, though. Here it is Thursday and I'll be home with the architect on Sunday gearing up for our February trip to Florida. I feel pretty relaxed because I haven't made myself rush about to see everyone, but am dead broke because I forget how expensive shit is in Canada. Oh well....

Remember

back when Joaquin Phoenix was hot?

Not so much anymore:

Announcement

I have burned the CRAP out of the top of my mouth on cheese pizza once again.

Cheese pizza and curry chips (not together. gross.) are my personal diet kryptonite. Well, those plus wine. And beer. That's it though - usually I'm pretty good with the food intake. If I could just get rid of those four things from my diet I'd be svelte and hot once more.

Anyhoo, so my friend treated me to lunch today because she has a crush on the pizza boy from the shop near my house. We had a couple of heady moments this afternoon when we thought he was the pizza owner, not just re-heater, but alas he spends most of his free time playing video games, getting tattooed, and waiting for Comic-Con. I've been kind of flirty/chatty with him since we moved over this way so we have a bit of a repartee, and today he gave us a sweet deal on our lunch and two free extra slices. He's pretty fricking hot, it's true, and my friend and I had a chuckle pondering the elaborate scheme he would undertake to woo me away from the architect ('cause you know, that could happen). The best we came up with involved a unicorn, a pink vespa, a sexy grotto constructed from pizza boxes, and a parade. Ah good times.

I may slip into a cheese covered pizza coma, though, so please send help if you don't hear from me any time soon.

Random thoughts RE: foodie culture

So I'll admit to a certain amount of interest in things "foodie" that has mostly to do with how much I like to cook, a bit to do with my obsession pop culture, and a solid chunk to do with my love for Bourdain. Like I have the links at the side which I follow, I watch a couple of shows (not the reality ones, though I've got a small fondness for GRamsay's british version of Kitchen Nightmares), I subscribe to some magazines, and I keep up with the trends.

I've found, though, the to-do over who will be the next white house chef a little puzzling. Certain folks (i.e. the head of the CIA (culinary institute, not intelligence agency)) have said that it should be a rotating position of America's star chefs, much like Kennedy used to rotate artists and performers through. This seems like a bit of a conceit to me, in that the position is, more than anything, that of a household chef - chiefly responsible for running a kitchen for a family. It's not something that seems suited to the ego which probably goes along with a chef who has also been thrust into the spotlight by the food network or the NYT. I mean, I love chefs - I've dated two, over the years, and not-dated any number more - but they *do* have an ego. It's part of the job, I think, and necessary. Could Batali tone down his 'tude and make grilled cheese with Kraft singles for the kids? I dunno.

Oh and let's not pretend like Kraft singles don't make the best grilled cheese, ok?

I other news, I finally watched the Bourdain christmas special in which he cooks dinner for QOTSA. Josh Homme and Bourdain on the same screen? Ugly christmas sweaters aside, pretty fucking hot. I barely needed the subliminal Cialis advertising that kept flashing on the screen for the last two sections.

Pondering

I'm glad that scrabulous is back in its new incarnation. Funny name aside, it kicks serious posterior over that EA official abomination with the corporate-sanctioned name.

I went to a bar to watch my first playoff football game today. All told, it's not nearly as interesting as hockey. I mean, it could be just that I don't get what's going on, but I've got to say that I don't get the interest. The bar sure gets loud, though - reminds me of Stanley Cup nights. Le sigh.

So I'm going home for a week next Sunday. Indulging in a little social network stalking, I've noticed that people are planning vacations to warm places etc. I always find myself a little put out when this comes up, since the same people are always making excuses for expenses and circumstances when we invite them to come visit us. I guess we aren't as exciting as tropical destinations but heck it sure makes me less than eager to go out of my way when I'm rationing out my seven night stay, know what I mean?

Is that petty? Probably, but hell when I've got seven days and 15 people to see, I'm happy to have delimiters for my schedules.

Home for a Rest

So check this: last night I dreamed that I was Anthony Bourdain's sous chef at Les Halles. You know, the restaurant where he's not even chef anymore. It was one of those dreams where I would partially wake up and then fall back into without missing a beat. Usually I only do that with crappy scary dreams, but last night it was like living a dream come true. Oh except for the part where it was just a friendly professional relationship not the hot dirty sexing relationship.

I guess I have become boring when my favourite dreams are now of me cooking, not me f-ing the brains out of my second line boytoys. Le sigh.

I imagine this all has to do with the fact that tonight is the season premier of No Reservations and that I've been waiting with bated breath. Or it could just be because I really like cooking. Who can tell?

In other food related news, I've eaten beef twice this holiday season and it didn't kill me. In fact, it didn't even make me feel too terribly. I like that, because, I have to admit, lately I've been all about the meat (dirty!). I've always felt so aggrieved when going to a restaurant and only being able to eat three things on the menu: salad, turkey burger, or salmon. Adding bacon earlier this year may not have been the best thing for my health, but g-darnit it's good for my tastebuds. If I can throw a steak on there now and again I may be in heaven.

OMG bacon wrapped steak!