23 June, 2011

things that are beautiful (drunk? moi? whatever makes you think so?)

these are things that are beautiful:


  • sitting on the balcony listening over and over and over to this and crying because of one small death in a book which brings my whole fear of death into sharp relief, no, not my death, who cares about that? i mean the death of those near and dear and even those a little further away, because it is the whole multitudinous multifaceted knotty colourful interrelated glorious mess of all the people that makes this place ok, that makes me want to continue to breathe, including those of you in the blogosphere whom i've never met, and those of you whom i met and loved and no longer see and miss, and those of you whom i only started to get to know and now will have a chance to get to know better, and those who knocked me out with your wit and wisdom, and those who ate and drank with me and listened to my endless tales, and those of you whom i like, and those of you have annoyed me lately but whom i still consider friends, and those of you whom i've neglected, and those who do not read this, and those who do, and everyone really, (not including the assholes in trucks who made me want to do murder today), and those who made my day by thanking me for making them bleed and talking them through it, and those who smiled at the crosswalk and well, hell, everyone (except for those truck driving assholes - you are the mosquitoes in my ecosystem, most likely necessary but, fuck, so annoying!). so there's that.
  • spinning and spinning on my beautiful new honey-coloured floor to that same song, knowing that my inner ear will not be pleased but spinning like a five year old just because this song makes me want to run through grass, do cartwheels and spin, spin, spin until i fall down, and how often does a song like that come along? not often enough, i tell you!
  • knowing, as i cry, that i am crying for the death of a good, talented, warm, sweet man at whose funeral i was on monday
  • being more broke than we've been in a good long while and somehow knowing it'll be ok
  • eating a whole half of a watermelon for supper
  • getting seemingly smashed on 1.5 glasses of red wine (what gives? long week at work? 2 whole days' worth? really?)
  • watching the storm clouds roll in (few things beat a prairie storm)
  • looking forward to a trip to vancouver soon to see old friends, and new friends and the sea
  • looking in the mirror and seeing my face, make-up running, nose grotesquely swollen, rapidly greying hair frizzy as hell and knowing that it is my face and it shall continue to be my face until i cease to be me, and that it's ok, all ok, the rapidly expanding mid-section, and frizzy hair, and strangely caprine days, and seeing the shy peeking out of maternal grandmother and others who have come before and thinking that come what may, this is who i am and it's been good and, i hope, shall continue to be good
  • thinking that perhaps this life was all i was ever capable of living, that this isn't some failure of potential, some stupendous failure of mine to be the best that i can be, but, simply, the best that i can be. how freeing, how lovely, how nice to think that this, here, is what i am and what i ought to be. 
  • thinking that perhaps i ought to have a breathalyzer hooked up to this here thing, but hey, i don't and it's all good!

18 June, 2011

pescadolicious

crusty juggler and i were busy in the kitchen preparing fish tacos and pico de gallo for dinner. she was chopping a large fragrant pile of cilantro.

crusty juggler: god, this smells so good i want to just stick your face in it!
moi: ?
crusty juggler:... um, i mean i want to stick my face in it.
moi: that makes more sense, yes.

10 June, 2011

and now, for something completely different

i have been absent not merely because of sad adult drudgery. oh no! also, there was a lovely visit from crusty juggler, who left the stunning natural beauty of vancouver in order to come visit me, have the car window explode upon her head en route from the airport, help me iron things, hem things, teach me to make salad rolls and also vacuum my floor. for fun, we sat on the balcony and drank vast quantities of campari and tonic, because we're ladies and these are ladies' drinks. we walked and talked and had a fabulous time - an easy guest is a thing of beauty and take my word for it, you can invite crusty juggler to your house any time!

whilst relaxing on the chesterfield with our lap-sized computational machines one evening:

crusty juggler: it says here that these shelves are 16" long. do you have one of those measuring things about the house?
moi: yeah, i can never visualise measurements either. mr. monkey! can you please show crusty juggler what 16" looks like?
mr. monkey (blushing furiously): ...
crusty juggler: well, you are a lucky girl!

there followed a bawdy exchange the likes of which i would not put down upon these here pages, since, as previously mentioned, i'm a lady and shit.

computer says no

so, as i was saying before i was rudely interrupted by moving out, moving in, getting a place ready for sale and all the myriad attendant details, adulthood sucks.

today we went, for what i really really hope is the very last time, to see our banker, max. max, if you feel inclined to visualise our little fiscal adventure, is like a small hairy italian ferret on some kind of twitch-inducing meds. the man is absolutely brilliant at making me feel placid, zen and radiating the kind of calm typically seen on stoned hippies and my cousin's wife. it's all relative, you say, and i say, put me next to a twitching ferret and i will be relaxed the rest of my days. of course the twitching ferret might get old rather quickly, but that's another tale for another day.

so, back to the bank - max always makes an appointment during the majority of which we end up sitting staring at him, while he shuffles vast piles of papers, filling in forms in triplicate and, alternately, banging on his keyboard. in the end, in what takes all of 5 minutes, he makes us put down several signatures on various pieces of paper. the whole thing usually lasts well over an hour. why he cannot have the mass of documents filled out prior to our actual arrival boggles my mind, but perhaps it is The Way Of The Ferret and one cannot question that.

today, while max was pounding away on the computer keyboard, a loud beep sounded. then another one, and some time later, another one still. it was obvious that the computer was not happy with whatever input it had just received. unfortunately i was instantly reminded of this, and so i turned to mr. monkey and said, computer says no. we then had to work really hard not to collapse in paroxysms of giggles. as it is, we find it endlessly amusing watching max do his paper-waving, keyboard-pounding magic while we sit and stare but adding little britain to the equation was just too much. thanks a lot, crusty juggler!

earlier in the appointment i had to soundlessly convince the man i love that the breath issuing forth from his mouth was particularly vile and that he should indeed take the gum i was offering him surreptitiously under the table. not an easy thing to do using only one's eyebrows. luckily for all, i succeeded.