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.