What else needs to be said?
(Except that I'm avoiding posting personal stuff lately. I will admit to this crime, but I won't remedy it.)
Thursday
Bullie!
What else needs to be said?
(Except that I'm avoiding posting personal stuff lately. I will admit to this crime, but I won't remedy it.)
Wednesday
beware the b's
From today's Globe and Mail:
British police are hunting a swarm of 30,000 honey bees that are on the loose in Gloucestershire, England. A spokesman for the West Mercia Police told journalists the swarm will probably "make a buzzing sound." An expert with the Worcestershire Beekeepers Association advised the public not to chuck rocks at the swarm or to otherwise annoy the insects.
British police are hunting a swarm of 30,000 honey bees that are on the loose in Gloucestershire, England. A spokesman for the West Mercia Police told journalists the swarm will probably "make a buzzing sound." An expert with the Worcestershire Beekeepers Association advised the public not to chuck rocks at the swarm or to otherwise annoy the insects.
smells like east spirit
Rainy days always remind me of the east coast. I can almost hear the waves break on the shore, with gulls screaming overhead.
Monday
Enkidu, Super Cat
Ok, please don't think me mean. It was all my cat's idea.
Honest. After opening up the bottom kitchen drawer (again) and pulling out all the contents (again), Enkidu got into the cupboard of grocery bags. He sometimes like to nap in a nest of grocery bags. He sometimes likes to play with them.
And sometimes he likes to wear the bags. He'll strut around, happily showing off the latest in cat fashions. "Ooh, look at me," he meowls in that loud Siamese way. "I'm so SEXAY!"
Other tmes, he zips around the townhouse, the plastic bag like a plastic kite, swooshing and crinkly behind him. At those times I think he pretends he's "Enkidu, Super Cat," with amazing cat-flying powers.
Oh, that crazy cat.
Honest. After opening up the bottom kitchen drawer (again) and pulling out all the contents (again), Enkidu got into the cupboard of grocery bags. He sometimes like to nap in a nest of grocery bags. He sometimes likes to play with them.
And sometimes he likes to wear the bags. He'll strut around, happily showing off the latest in cat fashions. "Ooh, look at me," he meowls in that loud Siamese way. "I'm so SEXAY!"
Other tmes, he zips around the townhouse, the plastic bag like a plastic kite, swooshing and crinkly behind him. At those times I think he pretends he's "Enkidu, Super Cat," with amazing cat-flying powers.
Oh, that crazy cat.
dog park
Why live in the suburbs when you can live in downtown with your very own park a mere 1.5 blocks away? Trees, grassy knolls, and winding paths bordered by boulders. The dogs enjoy the romp; we (occasionally) enjoy our neighbours. 9pm is a good time to go, as the park is empty. Just us and the dogs.
Sunday
Wakefield
We spent 13 hours with our good friends, Sean and Tracey yesterday. We went out to Sean's family's farm in Wakefield for a day of eating, lazing, catching up, and playing board games. The plan was to walk about in the country side, but the rain kept us inside.
We played Boggle (ooh, I got "swords"), and later we played "Pit". We watched "The Fly". We showed Sean where to download the "Dr. Who" episode shown in Britain (CBC is two weeks behind). We debated politics, philosophy, and the reasons why a person should always buy organic bananas.
There were at least 8 dogs. Moxie threw up three times, but at least this time she kept it on the tiled floors. Tobique, the poor dear, is not used to this kind of doggie bedlam, so he had to do the most adjusting and adapting. He clung to me, not used to the larger farm dogs who thought nothing of snapping and pushing and sniffing butt.
And then came The Horse.
The rain cleared for a bit, so Shani went for a horse ride. She and Amy saddled up a horse and off she went. The dogs were outside for a pee break. This is when Tobique met The Horse.
All of his hair stood on end, and he barked in his most excited, eloquent houndish way: "Woo woo woo woo wooo!" He promptly forgot all of his recent obedience training, and all attempts to call him back to the house failed. He followed Shani and The Horse down the lane. "Woo! WOO WOO! Woo woo woo woooo!" Shani, politely but in a seethingly angry teenage way, rode The Horse back to the house. She knocked on the window with her whip. "Can you get your dog inside? I can't have him following me down the road." Tobique stood behind The Horse, still barking, hairs still bristling. "WOO! WOO!"
I had to slip on some muddy rubber boots and chase him around The Horse until I could grab his collar. "Gotchya!" I remembered to say. At least I haven't forgotten the obedience training.
We had homemade pizza for supper. Ellen used a complex mathematical calculation to make sure everyone had two slices of exactly the kind of pizza he or she wanted. (I had: onions, peppers and extra sauce with garlic sauce.) We stood about, chatting in the warm kitchen heated by the old wood stove, while the pizza became pizza. We were all friends in that happy room, enjoying a rainy day together.
We played Boggle (ooh, I got "swords"), and later we played "Pit". We watched "The Fly". We showed Sean where to download the "Dr. Who" episode shown in Britain (CBC is two weeks behind). We debated politics, philosophy, and the reasons why a person should always buy organic bananas.
There were at least 8 dogs. Moxie threw up three times, but at least this time she kept it on the tiled floors. Tobique, the poor dear, is not used to this kind of doggie bedlam, so he had to do the most adjusting and adapting. He clung to me, not used to the larger farm dogs who thought nothing of snapping and pushing and sniffing butt.
And then came The Horse.
The rain cleared for a bit, so Shani went for a horse ride. She and Amy saddled up a horse and off she went. The dogs were outside for a pee break. This is when Tobique met The Horse.
All of his hair stood on end, and he barked in his most excited, eloquent houndish way: "Woo woo woo woo wooo!" He promptly forgot all of his recent obedience training, and all attempts to call him back to the house failed. He followed Shani and The Horse down the lane. "Woo! WOO WOO! Woo woo woo woooo!" Shani, politely but in a seethingly angry teenage way, rode The Horse back to the house. She knocked on the window with her whip. "Can you get your dog inside? I can't have him following me down the road." Tobique stood behind The Horse, still barking, hairs still bristling. "WOO! WOO!"
I had to slip on some muddy rubber boots and chase him around The Horse until I could grab his collar. "Gotchya!" I remembered to say. At least I haven't forgotten the obedience training.
We had homemade pizza for supper. Ellen used a complex mathematical calculation to make sure everyone had two slices of exactly the kind of pizza he or she wanted. (I had: onions, peppers and extra sauce with garlic sauce.) We stood about, chatting in the warm kitchen heated by the old wood stove, while the pizza became pizza. We were all friends in that happy room, enjoying a rainy day together.
walking to brunch in the rain
We decided to try out the Scone Witch for brunch this morning (instead of going to Cora's for our usual strawberry waffles). We walked in the rain, past the grafitti and through the mud puddles, up the hill to the outskirts of downtown. Only to discover that the place was packed with "cool people", so we had to get our scones to go.
Yummy.
Sometimes I think it's worth living in a 4-season location when spring hits. There is an indescribable happiness in shedding clothes, putting away the hats and mitts and scarves, and in trading in the winter boots for sneakers and sandals. The windows can be left open, and the sunshine is invitingly warm, and the wind carries the smells of gardens beginning to grow. This is the time of year when I can forgive the bitter whiteness of winter and not feel chilled to the bone.
Moxie T. Dawg loves the spring. She's allowed on the balcony again, where she lays in a little corner of sunshine and dreams of running through fields of clover, chasing rabbits and squirrels.
Friday
why hurry little river, why hurry to the sea?
This is my paternal grandfather standing in his garden in the fall of 2004.
He is called Gunky. I'm not clear on the story why. It's not for any gross reasons (I know what most people think of when they hear the word "gunky") but it's a term of endearment. He's always been my Gunky and always will be. My earliest memory is of him trying to cheer me up by making the bubbles in a level dance. I had been bad while visiting my grandparents, so for punishment I was sent to his bedroom, to be excluded from the family gathering. I lay sobbing on his bed, completely miserable about the banishment. His silliness did cheer me up -- he made me laugh. I must have been about four. I remember the sunlight through the south-facing window; I remember the ivy wall-paper and wool blanket on the bed.
I've been thinking about him a lot this week, as I haven't sent him a letter or postcard in a long time. (Read: GUILT.) He's now 93. His world is shrinking. It's important for him to feel needed and remembered. So I usually make sure I send him something at least once a month.
I haven't sent him anything in almost 5 months. I'm a horrible granddaughter.
I'll send a pretty little card tonight.
Love & hugs,
from your granddaughter in Ottawa,
Pogie
He is called Gunky. I'm not clear on the story why. It's not for any gross reasons (I know what most people think of when they hear the word "gunky") but it's a term of endearment. He's always been my Gunky and always will be. My earliest memory is of him trying to cheer me up by making the bubbles in a level dance. I had been bad while visiting my grandparents, so for punishment I was sent to his bedroom, to be excluded from the family gathering. I lay sobbing on his bed, completely miserable about the banishment. His silliness did cheer me up -- he made me laugh. I must have been about four. I remember the sunlight through the south-facing window; I remember the ivy wall-paper and wool blanket on the bed.
I've been thinking about him a lot this week, as I haven't sent him a letter or postcard in a long time. (Read: GUILT.) He's now 93. His world is shrinking. It's important for him to feel needed and remembered. So I usually make sure I send him something at least once a month.
I haven't sent him anything in almost 5 months. I'm a horrible granddaughter.
I'll send a pretty little card tonight.
Love & hugs,
from your granddaughter in Ottawa,
Pogie
the universe is an organized cosmos, corresponding to a work of art
I went to a sex party.
Well, a sex toy party, where the main goal is to get all the women so drunk they'll spend hundreds of dollars on cheap sex toys. It was hosted by a coworker, and the speaker/seller was Sue McGarvie.
Everyone was giggly-nervous at the start, but by the end we were all giggly-drunk (and some were giggly-high). I was offered a ride home from the suburbia hell I bussed into. However, my ride's girlfriend apparently lost track of time, so we didn't leave until almost 1am. The drunk part of my mind was having a great time, but that annoying bit of my mind that always stays sober and cynical was completely exhausted. "Let's go home already," said the downer-sober side. "This party's over!"
"Wee-hah!" screamed the drunk side. "You haven't been out having such laughs in such a LONG TIME!! Besides, you ate bacon tonight, so it's a night for breaking the rules!"
Which was true. I was having a good ol' drunk time, and I accidentally ate bacon. It's not fair of the hosts to cover yummy morsels of mushrooms with bacon.
But eventually I left (and yes, my wallet was lighter).
There were a lot of happy women at work the following Monday.
Well, a sex toy party, where the main goal is to get all the women so drunk they'll spend hundreds of dollars on cheap sex toys. It was hosted by a coworker, and the speaker/seller was Sue McGarvie.
Everyone was giggly-nervous at the start, but by the end we were all giggly-drunk (and some were giggly-high). I was offered a ride home from the suburbia hell I bussed into. However, my ride's girlfriend apparently lost track of time, so we didn't leave until almost 1am. The drunk part of my mind was having a great time, but that annoying bit of my mind that always stays sober and cynical was completely exhausted. "Let's go home already," said the downer-sober side. "This party's over!"
"Wee-hah!" screamed the drunk side. "You haven't been out having such laughs in such a LONG TIME!! Besides, you ate bacon tonight, so it's a night for breaking the rules!"
Which was true. I was having a good ol' drunk time, and I accidentally ate bacon. It's not fair of the hosts to cover yummy morsels of mushrooms with bacon.
But eventually I left (and yes, my wallet was lighter).
There were a lot of happy women at work the following Monday.
Wednesday
green bug
Moxie said she wanted her picture on my blog, else she'd tell the world that I haven't had a haircut in almost a year.
So here she is -- Moxie T. Dawg.
Moxie says it's bedtime
I have decided that:
1. I am not working with people over 65 ever again.
2. I am going to shoot myself in the head when I turn 65 so I don't become a nuisance to the general population.
I tested our new "automated phone system" script with a group of seniors. Each test comprises of playing telephone. The senior pretends to phone into the shelter, and I read off the automated phone script. We have them "call" in for various reasons, to test the structure and usability of the information trees, and identify any possible problems. These tests ideally take less than 10 minutes per volunteer.
Until you test it out on senior women.
All of the testing on seniors went thusly:
1. After showing up about three hours early, the senior first complains about:
a. the weather
b. the traffic
c. the temperature of the building
d. the noise coming from the dogs
e. her arthritis.
2. Each senior wants a tour of the shelter.
3. Each senior is a member of the Women's Auxiliary, so shes want to see the X-ray machine the WA purchased for the shelter.
4. Each senior becomes upset when I inform her we can't walk through the clinic area when there is an operation in progress.
5. Each senior then complains that volunteering is a rewardless sacrifice on her part, and some days she doesn't even know why she bothers to support the society.
6. I finally convince her to sit down and participate in the test.
7. The test is constantly interrupted while the senior gives me a lecture on why having an automated phone system is a bad idea. "Why don't you just hire someone to answer the phones?" I try to explain that we now have TWO people to answer the phones, but suddenly the senior goes deaf.
8. After the test, the senior launches into a long spiel describing an incident involving an animal, the humane society, Matlock, and god.
9. I curse my manager for torturing me with these people.
10. I finally convince the senior that as a paid staff member, my duties don't include listening to senile old animal-hoarders who are desperately lonely and talkative.
Tomorrow I am going to write a proposal, stating that "working, assisting, helping, or having any other interaction with a person over the age of 65 is no longer a required job duty of the Communications Coordinator."
Tuesday
Go West (life is peaceful there)
The moon and Saturn draw close together over the constellation Orion.
Wednesday
Jalapeno Peppers & Paneer Cheese Bites
How do I describe my recent mood? A part of me feels trapped in the the rest of me, like a room held hostage by a house. I haven't simply fallen into the rut of mundane life. I know, as I've lived that way for a long time. The rut is not unpleasant; rather boring, predictable. This is something else. I can feel it: a silent something slithering this way. I've felt it before, this tightness in the chest, this glancing behind to see who's there. I am its prey, but I can't see it or smell it. I can only sense it.
Maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. There was a quote in the G&M the other day that resonated with me. I can't remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of: "Happiness can only be found in the unexpected." Maybe everything in my life is too expected. Maybe I'm *OLD* and life is now too predictable. Maybe I have another 30 to 50 years (or even more) of this same routine. It is possible to explain away the tight chest as mere anxiety. Perhaps I'm afraid of the ticking clock....
I also think I'm losing my mind. Not in, "I'm going crazy", but as if my mind has lost some of its richness and quality. I am amazed at my vocabulary from 12 years ago - it just can't be a lack of practice and exposure. The neurons in my brain are getting tired, weary, and have given up hope. I blame mercury poisonning. It's easier to blame the rest of the world than to point the finger at myself.
I am nothing but trite tonight.
(A picture of a wild hyacinth, whose latin name is "Triteleia grandiflora Lindl". I did an images.google.ca search for "trite", and this was the picture I like the best. The wild hyacinth is native to North America, and its bulb is edible.)
Maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. There was a quote in the G&M the other day that resonated with me. I can't remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of: "Happiness can only be found in the unexpected." Maybe everything in my life is too expected. Maybe I'm *OLD* and life is now too predictable. Maybe I have another 30 to 50 years (or even more) of this same routine. It is possible to explain away the tight chest as mere anxiety. Perhaps I'm afraid of the ticking clock....
I also think I'm losing my mind. Not in, "I'm going crazy", but as if my mind has lost some of its richness and quality. I am amazed at my vocabulary from 12 years ago - it just can't be a lack of practice and exposure. The neurons in my brain are getting tired, weary, and have given up hope. I blame mercury poisonning. It's easier to blame the rest of the world than to point the finger at myself.
I am nothing but trite tonight.
(A picture of a wild hyacinth, whose latin name is "Triteleia grandiflora Lindl". I did an images.google.ca search for "trite", and this was the picture I like the best. The wild hyacinth is native to North America, and its bulb is edible.)
Monday
Tobique
I don't have very many pictures of Tobique (second child syndrome, I'm afraid), so today, while waiting for the pain relief pills to kick in, I did a "photo shoot". He really liked the attention. He's a very sweet dog, despite the stereotypical houndishness.
Friday
sorry for the lack of posting
Not that I have millions of viewers or anything....
I fell in love the other night. After watching "The Amazing Race," I tried to look up the orphanage that was shown while the contestants were in South Africa. I stumbled on some online "international" adoption agency that has photos and write ups of the kids waiting for new families. (Very much like the online list of animals we have available for adoption at the Ottawa Humane Society.)
And I found two kids that would be perfect for me.
Here's what's written on the website about them:
Sex: Siblings
BirthDate: 11 years
Region: Eastern Europe
These children lost their parents and they do not have any other relatives. The boy is very kind and loveable. He is dreaming about some day owning his own dog. He has a very caring and loving relationship with his sister. The girl is an excellent student. She likes watercolor and animals. She is always bringing kittens from outside to feed them. Both are dreaming about being part of a family with a mother and a father.
I have two cats! I have two dogs! Nik is an artist -- he has watercolours!
There's something about these two kids that eats at me. I think it's mostly because the girl reminds me of my younger sister, Sarah, when she was a kid. What's even more depressing is that I can't do anything to help these kids: Nik doesn't want kids; I'm not convinced that I want kids badly enough; I don't have enough money to adopt internationally; I don't have enough fortitude to do the paperwork and home study and interviews; and in Ontario, a couple can't adopt more than one kid per 18 month period. (Yes, I've done some research about it.)
But man, taking maternity leave would be nice.
I hope these two children disappear off the website soon, because they've found a wonderful, loving, generous and supportive forever home that they very much deserve. Good luck, kids.
I fell in love the other night. After watching "The Amazing Race," I tried to look up the orphanage that was shown while the contestants were in South Africa. I stumbled on some online "international" adoption agency that has photos and write ups of the kids waiting for new families. (Very much like the online list of animals we have available for adoption at the Ottawa Humane Society.)
And I found two kids that would be perfect for me.
Here's what's written on the website about them:
Sex: Siblings
BirthDate: 11 years
Region: Eastern Europe
These children lost their parents and they do not have any other relatives. The boy is very kind and loveable. He is dreaming about some day owning his own dog. He has a very caring and loving relationship with his sister. The girl is an excellent student. She likes watercolor and animals. She is always bringing kittens from outside to feed them. Both are dreaming about being part of a family with a mother and a father.
I have two cats! I have two dogs! Nik is an artist -- he has watercolours!
There's something about these two kids that eats at me. I think it's mostly because the girl reminds me of my younger sister, Sarah, when she was a kid. What's even more depressing is that I can't do anything to help these kids: Nik doesn't want kids; I'm not convinced that I want kids badly enough; I don't have enough money to adopt internationally; I don't have enough fortitude to do the paperwork and home study and interviews; and in Ontario, a couple can't adopt more than one kid per 18 month period. (Yes, I've done some research about it.)
But man, taking maternity leave would be nice.
I hope these two children disappear off the website soon, because they've found a wonderful, loving, generous and supportive forever home that they very much deserve. Good luck, kids.
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