New Fabric

Isn't this nice? There is more. I bought $50 worth of fabric last weekend at a Montreal craft fair. I'm planning to make another quilt.

Feist sucked

I saw Feist last night. She wouldn't have sucked if she had been playing at the Manx or the Black Sheep Inn. But on the Main Stage of the Bluesfest, I didn't think she pulled it off, except for maybe the first 5 rows of people. She was doing her ambiant, artsy thing, which is pretty and everything, but doesn't work in that context. It annoyed me that she was a wanker last night. I wanted to see her rock, to be larger than life. I like Feist's schtick generally. Her voice is unique. The woman is capable of giving it when she wants to. But I'm over the whole 1, 2, 3, 4 shit.

Going Off Facebook

Zoom's delightful reruns made me take a look at what I was doing at this time last year. Tiana also does this on her blog (Congratulations, by the way, Tiana! Nice little fellow you got there).
Last year at this time I was just becoming a Facebook user and even had a mission statement worked out for myself. My year on Facebook has left me unsatisfied. Here are some reasons I'm going to go off Facebook:

1) I'm addicted to Scrabulous in a sick kind of way and could basically spend my whole life playing it if I let myself.
2) I've stopped caring about accumulating celebrity "friends". Friending up with these people has gotten me nothing!
3) Reconnecting with some people from my past has brought out some negative feelings in me: jealousy, regret, resentment. Instead of expressing these emotions, I have to write superficial things on their "walls" like, "Oh, I'm so happy for you, living in your beautiful space with your beautiful wife with your Canada Council grant and your gigantic studio and your insanely successful career"...
4) I've discovered that Facebook is a lazy man's pick-up joint. Facebook flirting is lame, lame. Lazy. Get off your ass, fellows! Go to a bar and flirt there!
5) Fun Walls are not fun. Fuck fun walls.
6) I don't want to look at people's family photo albums.
7) I end up in conversations with people on Facebook who would never normally send me an email or contact me. What's wrong with some boundaries? No, I don't want to catch up with my childhood classmate who has become born-again and hopes to save me via Facebook.
8) I have run out of witty things to say on my "status" line.
9) I don't ever want to be superpoked again.
10) Did I mention the Scrabulous addiction?

Here is a question for y'all: How do I gracefully remove myself from Facebook? Or, should I just rip myself off, like a bandaid?

Templates

I'm messing around with templates, and lost all my "favourites" in the process. I am hoping that by changing my template, I will be more inspired to write. Going for style over substance, in other words.

Aggie update and random thoughts

1) I'm still sick, but I won't blog about that because that's boring.

2) I am bracing for a big transition ahead: starting work next week, moving back to Ottawa, etc. You can bet I'll be calling an ESI emergency meeting to discuss--how to support Aggie while she goes through this rough transition.

3) I'm feeling ambivalent about blogging these days because I'm trying to reduce my screen time and do other things like a) cook
b) read c) get well d) sleep e) watch TV (it's a different screen, I know...) f) talk/communicate g) spend quality time with my person and cat unit h) make stuff out of fabric i) organize my life. I am aware that blogging itself doesn't take a lot of time. But, once I get on here, it's hard to get off. I'm definitely removing myself from Facebook. No point being on there now that I've reconnected with all my exes and discovered that they have become gay, breeders with SUVs, or really happy in some way that annoys me.

4) [Redacted] ... A rant about a friend getting married again, and me questioning that decision and the whole institution. I read what a wrote and I didn't like my tone. So .... redacted!

5) I'd better quit while I'm ahead.

Lost voice

I have laryngitis. I have decided to just "go with it" and stay silent. When folks talk to me, I don't respond except to smile weakly. I don't want to blame my family for my current condition, but ..... I was speaking before I spent the week with them.
In other news, I'm starting work again in a week. The transition will be rough, and no one will feel sorry for me. Another reason to stay silent.

Reasons I can't blog right now

1)I have been out in the sticks. I just came into civilization to shower.
2)I'm at a family reunion, relating to family, all of them, including in-laws and out-laws.
3)I'm sick despite gargling with salt water, taking Vitamin C, drinking oregano oil, ingesting garlic.
4)I'm too tired to blog.
5)There is no...

In the past 24 hours...

1) I have witnessed a sleepover with seven 11-year old girls. There was make-up, there were fancy clothes, there was screaming, there were brownies, there was opera singing, there was swimming, there was nail polish, there were romantic movies. The only casualty was a lost earring.

2) I made the acquaintance of a fellow who says he lives in a house with ghosts, one who he sees regularly (an old man in a black-hooded coat), and a group he hears (a bunch of kids who are around 5-6 years old).

3) I saw a mother spray Show Sheen (a spray for detangling a horse's mane) on her 11-year old daughter's curly hair.

4) I met a guy who played Jesus in his church's Easter pageant, and who showed me photos of himself nailed to a cross.

5) I made a quilt while drinking gin and tonic.

Things that annoy me...

My friends will attest to the fact that I am highly sensitive to inappropriate language. For example, I'm very particular about salutations in emails, so please don't address me with a "Hey Aggie"; that's "Dear Aggie", thank you very much. And, don't even get me started on "yep".

Here are two of my latest language annoyances.

1) "cats are OK- purrr"/"dogs are OK- wooof" - I'm reading this in rental listings, Craig's list, etc.. Why do they have to add the "purr" and "wooof" thing? And EVERYONE is writing this! I love cats and dogs, but it just annoys the crap out of me to constantly read this purr and woof shit.

2) "yummers" - This one is all over the food blog world and it makes me gag. I guess it means delicious. As if "yummy" wasn't bad enough! The Urban Dictionary has a nice first definition of yummers here.

Looking for Housing

I'm looking for a place to live. Not to buy. To rent. I will be a renter for the rest of my days. I don't really care (can we really own things anyway?), but I'd like to be able to find a decent place to rent. I haven't so far. Part of the problem is I haven't settled on a neighbourhood. Another problem is I don't want something shitty with an insane landlord. I also don't want to be dealing with nutty neighbours. I want a small patch of grass for my cat. I am looking for an interesting francophone or mixed (non-WASP) neighbourhood with a bit of a street life.

1) Little Italy/Chinatown. Haven't seen anything good yet.
2) Vanier. Can't quite get my head around the Montreal Road/Beechwood disconnect.
3) Hintonburg. Haven't seen anything interesting yet.
4) Hull. Has potential, but haven't found a place I really want yet. Not really in love with St.Joseph Blvd, although it has its hidden charms. Old Hull? The bureaucrat/crack addict disconnect is also hard for me to get my head around.
5) Aylmer. Too far. Price of gas.

The Fate of the Don Cherry Trenchcoat

The Don Cherry trenchcoat accompanied me to Portugal, but didn't make it back. I first showed it to my travel companion on the early part of the trip, and she agreed that it was "pretty bad", followed by --"how much did you pay for that?" So, the trench stayed in my bag as I travelled all over Portugal. Then, I ended up in the Algarve with my brother, sister-in-law and niece. I pulled the trenchcoat out. My sister-in-law tried it on, and said, "Why don't you just get rid of it?" Earlier that day, my brother noticed that a group of Portugese animal rights folks had a little used clothing place where they raise funds for the critters. So, the trenchcoat went to a good cause. It is contributing to saving the Portugese beasts!

Good purchases/Bad purchases

I am on a shopping diet since my trip.
Here are a list of some of the better purchases I made, along with the more questionable ones.

Good purchases

- a manicure in the Lisbon airport. Perfect!
- a new blue jacket. Love it!
- a 5-Euro shirt from Zara. Sweet!
- a pomegranate-extract-smelling Swiss body spray. Nice!
- Italian-made panties that depict a field of poppies. Lovely!
- a truckload of lavender sachets. Adorable!
- a quilted wall hanging with appliqued scene of Portugese women in black sitting in front of pink house talking with a clothesline of bra and panties above them. Beautiful!

Bad purchases

- the Don Cherry trenchcoat (I'll talk about its fate later).
- Portugese tiles bought at a Lisbon flea market. I bought too many, and extras were thrown in to make the deal sweeter. They are very very heavy. I don't know what to do with them. I bought them early on in the trip then nearly broke my back carrying the damn things. Some of them are chipped from all the travelling.
- pre-paid internet access in a seedy little Lisbon hotel. The hotel computer broke, and I was told by the front desk dude that it was "not his problem". I wondered if he had read about Megan's "not my problem" filing system and had taken it to ridiculous extremes...
- Hermes body cream purchased in Paris airport. I thought I was being very chic and French by buying this. But the stuff stinks. And I have the nice Swiss pomegranate body spray. So I don't need it. Bad.
- A red suede handbag. I don't need this. I was convinced by a sales person that this bag was "me" -- that I was sassy, red and exciting, and that this bag would complete me. It's nice, but do I need it? No.

Travel soundtracks

When I travel, I sometimes have surreal soundtrack moments: when I hear music that either compliments or doesn't compliment a place. Here are some memorable travel soundtrack moments I've had:

Kupang, West Timor, Indonesia: Hearing this Vanilla Ice tune while -- in full tropical heat-- riding a Bemo, an Indonesian taxi, which is basically a pimped up minivan stuffed with more people and chickens than you can imagine.

Seoul, Korea: In a woman's underwear/lingerie store. I heard this Ace of Bass classic (as interpreted by Britney) while examining a pair of padded-ass panties. Yes, they sell padded-ass underwear in some parts of the world...

Malmo, Sweden: At a small outdoor skating rink in a public square on a crisp January morning, watching children skate to Abba's Take a Chance. This one made a lot of sense.

Nashville, Tennessee: I took control of this travel soundtrack. In downtown Nashville traffic, I was driving a minivan containing two very badly behaved nephews. To calm my nerves, I shoved Bob Dylan's Nashville Skyline into the player. This one made a lot of sense to me, too.

Lisbon, Portugal: This is my latest soundtrack moment, and took place in a taxi, driving through a beautiful old neighbourhood with palm trees and tile-decorated homes with exquisite linens hanging out in the sun. My friendly, stocky, Portugese-only speaking driver was playing Bon Jovi's classic Shot Through the Heart. I have a great new appreciation for this tune:

"Shot through the heart,
And you're to blame
You give love a bad name
I play my part, and you play your game
You give love a bad name.
You give love a bad name."

update coming soon....

I am still on my European holiday. I will be updating the blog soon. I know you are dying to hear what happened to the Don Cherry trenchcoat...

Don Cherry Trenchcoat

I bought a godawful trenchcoat yesterday, having convinced myself that I need a trenchcoat to travel. I'm travelling tomorrow, by the way. The trenchcoat is....think Don Cherry. I bought it yesterday because 1) it was cheap, 2) the saleswoman gave me 20% off because of a missing button (an extra button was in the pocket) 3) I convinced myself that it was a 'happy', 'cheerful' trenchcoat (which should set off alarm bells...). I got it home, put it on, and decided it had to go back to the store. I located the receipt. The receipt said, "Final sale. Exchange only within 15 days of purchase". I went back to the store. The saleswoman said, "It's a final sale because I knocked off 20%. No exchange." I showed her the receipt, blah, blah, blah. She finally, grudgingly said, "OK". So, I looked around the store and found nothing I wanted or needed. In fact, I concluded that I disliked the whole store. Then, I tried on the godawful trenchcoat again, and realized it was the best thing in the store. So, I went back to the woman. Blah blah blah. Then, she said, "I'm going to have to take your receipt away because you can't have an exchange next time." I was too defeated and f-ed up about the cheap, shitty-looking trenchcoat I was walking away with to argue with her.
But, hello! Bad business practice, no? When people exchange things, they usually end up spending more. They also feel better about the store. I'm never going back there.
Meanwhile, I'm walking around looking like Don Cherry.

How to Sell Something to Aggie

1) Display things beautifully.
2) Have an uncrowded store.
3) Hire impeccably polite and adorable Asian men who don't do the hard sell, but gently flirt with customers.
4) Offer a "free" gift if a certain amount is spent.
5) Flog your wares as Canadian-made (even if they are only designed in Canada and made in China).

Wow, there are actually 5 things this time! I walked away from this store quite a bit poorer yesterday, convincing myself that a good purse is an "investment", and pleased with myself for "winning" a new beautiful canvas gym bag, valued at $50. Ahhh, global capitalism. It works on me like a charm.

Music for the Long Weekend

Here is some inspirational music for the long weekend. I heard this 60's band, the Honeycombs, on a CBC thing on Friday evening and I thought they kicked ass. Apparently, their producer, Joe Meek, stuck a microphone under his front steps and got them to stomp to get the banging effect. The female drummer is very cool. I would like to dress like her and be like her.

I still have a lot to learn

*I don't know how to remove bubble gum from a leather purse strap and clothing.

*I didn't know that it was still possible to lose a document on the computer. I assumed there were enough back-ups: the "do you want to save?" questions, the auto-saves, the temp files, etc... But, no. It is still possible to actually lose a half a day's work. Gone. Zap. Fuck. And, yes, I called the technical guy, and he said, "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you lost it!"

There are a whole lot of other things I don't know, too.

Mother's Day

My dear mother sent me this email yesterday explaining the origin of Mother's Day.

Do you remember the origin of Mother's Day? Our friend, REDACTED, was pastor in Grafton, West Virginia. A Methodist woman started it there in her church in the early 1900s. Evidently she was a real bitch and not nice at all to her mother. She felt guilty after her mother died, so she started mother's day. Evidently there is a shrine to mothers in Grafton. Love from your sainted Mother.

Bless her, I think she is letting me off the hook for not sending a card. I do plan to give her a ring later...
Did you people know that Mother's Day was started by a real bitch who was not nice to her mother?

Bursting at the seams

I have not been blogging, in case you noticed. But I'm doing ok, in case you care. In fact, I am chock full of creativity right now, and am bursting my seams with ideas:

1) 4 book ideas. The first three could be books or could be magazine pieces, and they are in the Do-It-Yourself genre. The fourth idea involves diagrams and is more of self-help kind of deal.

2) 1 massive art project. I need a photographer (Coyote?), a painter, or some other kind of art person, and a short story writer. My team has not yet been assembled, but I'm sure with the IDEA I have, we can get massive funding to pull this thing off.

I would love to tell you more, but aren't you supposed to keep ideas secret? Or, are you supposed to tell all the world, so that you are more likely to actually realize them?

Extreme Crafting

My apologies for the lack of posting. And, sorry for not updating the Bakelite story. Soon the sordid secrets of Della's blog will be revealed.
I am all relaxed and happy, just coming off an extreme crafting/retreat weekend during which I made my first quilt. Pictures will follow. I also made a naughty French maid apron and a cushion. Also did lots of clothing reconstruction. The naughty French maid apron was made from a curtain valance.

Strange Day

Something weird is in the air today. The weirdness started on the way to Ikea when I almost hit a pedestrian. I apologized in two official languages, then decided that it was a bad day for city driving so I retreated. Then, I got my bike out and rode it down St. Denis to do some errands. I kept thinking I heard my name. "Aggie!" I thought I heard a beautiful young woman in a wheelchair yell. Then, I thought I heard my name again from a PETA activist, "Aggie!". Then, I thought I heard "Aggie!" again, this time from a taxi driver as I was crossing the street. What does this mean?

The Buddhist Death Workshop

I invited a friend to attend the death workshop with me, but he said, "I'm not ready to deal with death right now, but thanks for the invitation." So I went by myself, and the room was PACKED with people of all ages. The session was led by a cheerful Buddhist nun with a buzz cut who laughed heartily while talking casually about death and assuring us that she was not trying to scare the hell out of us by using the d-word. So, here's a summary of the workshop.

1) We are all going to die (in case you didn't know that).
2) We don't know when we're going to die.
3) The thing to strive for is to die happy with as much dharma as you can muster, which means you have to start working on it right now. The goal is to go out gracefully, however it is you go. I'm not totally clear on the whole dharma thing...
4) Embracing change is apparently key. Death is just a really really noticeable example of change. But, we are all dying and changing everyday. The Buddhist nun said that we suffer when try to stop change or attach to things and people tenaciously, thinking we can stop change.

Things I've been doing instead of blogging

1) Looking for a place to live -- without success.
2) Writing -- serious writing as opposed to a trashy little story.
3) Watching hockey. Yes, I am a Habs fan. Sorry about that to all of you Sens people.
4) Crafting wildly. Making merch for Astronaut Love Triangle. More on this later....
5) There is no fifth thing.
6) Wondering how I'm going to have time to blog when I get really busy again.
7) Getting excited about the quilting workshop I'm going to do with famous quilter Jennifer Beckley.
8) Celebrating my birthday and embracing getting older.
9) Attending a Buddhist workshop on death. Very very interesting. More on this later.
10) Drinking all the alcohol people gave me for my birthday. Thanks everyone!

Bakelite: Part VIII

“Dan, what on earth did she post?” asked Carol. Dan paused. Carol could hear the rasp of her own breathing which made her self-conscious, even with someone as familiar as Dan. The more she waited for her ex-husband to talk, the more she felt her chest tightening again. “Della is not what she seems,” said Dan. Yes, well that’s obvious, Carol thought, still waiting. Dan started again, “Listen, Care. I need you to promise me something. Will you promise not to look at Della’s blog until I get there?” Carol was stunned. “Come on, Dan. Is it that bad? I’m not a Faberge egg. I can handle this. Why are you being so overprotective? It’s late…. You can’t come over here now.” Dan was silent again. “Care, please, trust on me this. I think we need to look at this thing together.”

Distractions lately

1) Spring cleaning.
2) My crush.
3) Sewing projects.
4) Spring energy. Isn't it great?
5) There is no fifth thing.

Two t-shirts I saw today...

On this day of biking, Polish bazaar-shopping, perogie-eating, expresso-drinking, and sunbathing, I spotted two interesting t-shirts with questionable messages:

1) T-shirt #1: "Sex without love is just exercise". That depends on how much you exert yourself. It might not be exercise at all. It might just be...sex. And, sex with love can be exercise or not, too, no?

2) T-shirt #2: "An awkward morning is better than a boring evening". Hmmmm. It depends on how awkward. Really really terribly awkward can be pretty bad, no? And sometimes a boring evening is just what the doctor ordered.

The Thinker

Why does she talk to me in that stupid way? "Who's your mommy?? Who's your mommy"! Good grief. I can't even look at her when she does this weird needy cat-woman thing. I'm going to kill that little bird out there. Then, I'm going roll in it. Then, I'm going to have a nap in the sun.

New Pillow

This is my latest crafty creation. I'm happy with it. It's kind of a mauve cord material with patchwork. The pink floral thing is a tablecloth that I decided to cut up. It was really too much pink to eat off of...

10 Food Tips I Learned from my Exes

I never learned how to cook from mother (which I guess is how a lot of people my age learn). My mother was good at many things, but she has never been a real force dans la cuisine. So, I have mostly learned about cooking from my exes. Thank you, exes! Here are some things I've learned:

1) When in doubt, start by chopping an onion and cooking it in olive oil. Always a good start. If you put the onion in the fridge, it won't make you cry when you chop it.

2) Cut things away from yourself. Use chopping blocks. Don't cut things in the air....

3) Add nuts to things: stirfrys, chili, salads, you name it.

4) You don't need to add more salt if you are using something like soy sauce; it's salty enough!

5) Don't be intimidated by large cuts of meats, or a big fish. They are the easiest things to cook.

6) Experiment with different grains. There is a whole world out there beyond potatoes and Minute rice.

7) Invest in a state-of-the-art vegetable peeler. It will make your life better.

8) Eat lots of fruits and vegetables; they are really good for you! Really focus on the fruits in the morning. You will feel better.

9) Make a lot of food, so that you will have leftovers. You can bring your leftovers to work and save money.

10) It's O.K. to eat in front of the T.V. if hockey playoffs are on.

Bakelite: Part VII

Della’s husband’s lack of life insurance also proved to be a bummer. According to Della, after three months of grieving she realized she needed to find some way to make a living. An Ottawa cousin who owned a grocery store in Little Italy offered her a job in the deli so she could be close to loving family and get her financial footing. This was what brought Della to Ottawa, and it was in this charming Italian grocery store that Carol and Della met.

Carol remembered the moment like it was yesterday. She was buying bocconcini for a special birthday dinner for Dan. Della towered over her from behind a glass deli counter, and the two of them giggled like high school girls when Della said, “mmmmm….yum….balls.” This led to a conversation in which Della told Carol the sad story about her husband’s passing, about being new in town, about not having any friends, about the unfriendliness of Ottawans. That day Carol gave Della her phone number and invited her for dinner.

Dan didn't appreciate having an unexpected guest over for his birthday. And he really didn't like it when Della requested to speak with Carol privately after dinner. Carol led her into the den where she kept her Bakelite collection. "What is it?" Carol asked. "Are you ok?" Della was suddenly in tears and sobbing. Carol put a hand on Della's shoulder, pushing her dark curly hair to the back. She didn't know this woman well enough to put her arms around her. "Can I help?" Carol asked. Della spoke between sobs, "It's my cousin....He doesn't want me anymore...He says I need to find something else...It's my fault...I fucked it up...I fucked him by mistake." Della said all of this with tears streaming down her dimpled cheeks. "You slept with your cousin? Your first cousin?" Carol asked, trying not to show shock or surprise on her face. "Yes, but it's not what you think...Now he thinks I'm some kind of homewrecker... and he's spooked...he's afraid I'm going to tell his wife...which I wouldn't....Oh Carol, you don't know how hard it is to lose a husband." Carol didn't know what to say that would be of comfort at this moment. In her uneasiness, she reached for a plastic butterscotch bangle from her rack of bracelets, and, pressed it into Della's hand: "I want you to have this, Della. You have been through a lot." Della put the bangle on her wrist and twirled it around in her fingers. "I love it!" she said, her eyes streaked with mascara. "It's so smooth...and plastic!"

"It's a genuine Bakelite", Carol said softly. "If you rub it with your thumb and sniff, it should smell like formaldehyde and burnt human hair. That's how you know it's real." Della followed Carol's instructions and nodded. "Burnt human hair!" she said, and the two women laughed together. Della's face became serious again, "You are a real sweetheart, Carol. Somehow I knew you would understand me.... But now I really need a kleenex because I'm full of snot." The women laughed together again. It was like they were old friends.

Food break

Here are a few food things I've discovered lately. The change in weather has made me hungry.

1) Turnips: throw a turnip into your boiled potatoes and then mash them all together with salt and butter and you will have something good. I recommend buying a smaller turnip. They are much easier to cut.

2) Brussels Sprouts: they used to make me gag as a child. An ex of mine showed me that you don't have to boil them; you can cut up the little babies and stir fry them. I add ginger (get a jar of the pre-chopped stuff) and a bit of honey and they are delicious. A future posting: cooking tips I learned from my exes....

3) Pickled Eggplant: a lunch with Woodsy at an Italian place got me onto these things. They are ADDICTIVE, an appetite stimulant, and can accompany any meal. Just thinking about pickled eggplant makes me salivate.

Bakelite: Part VI

Carol and Della started their blogs around the same time. Carol remembered the day, the moment, they decided to blog. They were sitting on the brown leather couch in her living room, drinking coffee after dinner and talking together energetically about their ideas. Carol had already been reading plenty of knitting blogs and figured she was ready to start one of her own. After all, she was designing her own baby blankets and sweaters now, and she loved the idea of sharing her patterns with others. "I can also tell my readership where to shop. I know where to find the cheapest and most gorgeous baby alpaca wool in all of Ontario!" said Carol, flushed with excitement. "And your Bakelite collection, don't forget about that, sweetie! You could sell those little suckers," added Della. Della viewed blogging as a way to get rich. "I want to be the next Dooce!” proclaimed Della. “Whatever it takes, Care-baby, I’m going to create a life that will be excellent to blog, so that people will want to read me every day… to see what happened.” Della was the dramatic friend. The fun friend. The outrageous friend. The friend Carol lived vicariously through at times. It seemed somehow that Della had always been in her life when, in fact, it hadn't been that long. Della had only moved to Ottawa from Calgary two years earlier. Her husband, her high school sweetheart, had died unexpectedly. “It was a bummer,” Della told Carol the first time they met.

Bakelite: Part V

(*If you haven't read the first parts of this story, start here).

Carol decided to approach the incident by restoring normalcy to her home. She prepared a pot roast for dinner. She and Roy ate silently on the same brown leather couch on which the incident took place, facing the flat screen TV and flipping between the Kentucky Derby and the Weather Channel. The family cat, Ginger, collapsed between them and fell into deep slumber. Neither knew or really cared anything about horses or horse-racing, but the Derby was something they had always watched together as a family when Dan lived there, so it seemed right. After dinner, Roy’s skinny, pasty-faced little computer nerd friend, Sterling, arrived, and they retreated to Roy’s room to play games. Little boys playing games, Carol thought. This thought reassured her. Carol stayed on the couch with her cat and her knitting and began to feel like she could breathe again.

Later that evening, Carol prepared a bath with lavender and eucalyptus oils to soothe her body and clear her lungs before bed. The water was still running and she was standing naked in her bathroom when the phone rang. She quickly wrapped herself in a pink terrycloth robe, turned off the water and opened the door. The ringing had stopped and she could hear Roy voice: “I know. I know….Don’t worry. Everything’s cool here….O.K…..I didn’t do anything…… Well, yeah, I have.…but everyone does…..what does that have to do with?…But it didn’t…..Relax, would you, Dad!” Upon sighting his mother’s worried face peeking out the bathroom door, he spoke louder. “Ok, then. Thanks, Dad. Here’s Mom.” Roy handed the cordless to his mother and headed back to his room.

“Hey Dan. What’s going on?” Carol said, shivering and wishing she were in the bath. Dan sighed loudly into the phone. “Just enquiring a bit about his porn consumption. A lot of kids are, you know, little porn freaks now, looking at all kinds of weird internet shit that you and I never saw…I just wonder if he saw Della as some kind of, you know, porn-scenario-in-the-making.” Carol answered with surprise, “I thought you thought it was more of a move on Della’s part…Isn’t she the one who initiated the thing? Anyway, being all aggressive with him isn’t really helpful, is it? Why don’t you talk to him about it in a normal, man-to-man talk kind of way?” Dan sighed again and was silent, which was not like him. “What is up with you, Dan? Why do I get the feeling you have your knickers in a knot about something?” Carol was always good at getting her ex-husband to open up. “Care. I need to talk to you about something else…It’s Della’s blog… You haven’t seen it, have you?” his voice sounded shaky now. Carol could feel herself getting out of breath again, but answered slowly and carefully, “No. I hardly read the thing at the best of times…even though she’s linked to my blog, of course. Tonight I’ve been just trying not to think about Della at all, ok?” Dan hesitated for a second, then said, “Ok. Ok. Listen, Della says some things on her blog that might upset you. Which is why I’m calling.”

Commercial break...

The Bakelite story will continue. But first, a commercial break. Conch Shell is promoting the merits of bamboo stalks in your home.
Here is what she has to say:
"They are cheap. You can buy them for $2 a stalk at Loblaws."
"They'll live for about 2-3 years in water with little care and no soil. Toss in a few rocks for effect."
"They give you home a feng-shui look, suggesting the spiritual and philosophical leanings of the homeowners."
When I asked Conch Shell if bamboo stalks would be good home staging "fluff", she gave an unequivocal, "YES!"

Bakelite IV

At this point Carol was pretty much completely out of words and energy. She walked away from her son to her room for a little cry, which didn’t happen, so she picked up the phone to call Dan. Her ex was no moral compass, but she needed to talk to a semi-sane adult, to just get this thing out. Dan was with a client when she called, but said he could excuse himself for a couple of minutes. He listened to his ex-wife recount what she saw when she walked in the door: Della and Roy on the couch together in some kind of abnormal position. Della’s shirt half off. Roy’s hand in the shirt. Della wearing one of her Bakelites. “There’s really no limit to who Della will pull her tits out for,” said Dan, trying to reassure her. “She’s a freak and a fuck-up. A country bumpkin, really. She probably needed material for her trashy little blog which she imagines to be some kind of get-rich scheme. Forget about it, Care.” Carol whispered loudly into the phone, “But that’s our boy…He’s only 16. And a young 16-year old at that. Just a kid, a little gamer, a computer nerd, really.” Finally, Dan sighed and said, “Whoa whoa whao, Care…So what? Our kid got to see what a set of saggy old 50-year old tits looks like…Just let it go, hon.” Carol corrected him, “Della’s 45”, and then suddenly they were both laughing at they weren’t sure what. He had to go, he told her. She invited him for supper. “I got something going on,” he said, which was code for out with a woman. They said their goodbyes. He asked if she was ok. Yes, she was ok. Really? Yes. Really. He said he would have a talk to Roy next time. Good idea. She hung up, located her handbag, dug out her puffer and sucked on it deeply.

Bakelite III

“Sorry about that, Mom” said Roy, slowly trying to move in the direction of his bedroom. “We didn’t do anything really,” he added, looking away, embarrassed. His profile showed a chinless, chubby lad whose young skin appeared pulled down by gravity. “What was she doing here anyway?” Carol asked. “She was waiting here for you, actually…You were late, I guess. She said something about you helping her with her resume.” said Roy, squinting and still not looking directly at his mother. Right. Carol remembered. She was supposed to help this woman, her friend, get a job. Right.

Bakelite cont'd

Della wrenched the bangle off her wrist and placed it gently on the glass coffee table in front of her. “I didn’t steal it. I just wanted to try it on because it is adorable...and you have gobs of them...all lined up in there, your den, or whatever you call that room,” Della prattled on, pointing and gesturing a little more dramatically than usual as she made her way towards the foyer where she cinched her body into a short pink trenchcoat and stuffed her large feet into a pair of black, pointy boots. “That’s my Bakelite collection that I care about very much, thank you very much.” was Carol’s delayed retort. She felt ridiculous immediately after saying it. Finally, Della made her exit and Carol’s gaze turned to her son.

Bakelite

“Get your paws off my boy, Della.” If Carol had been a cowgirl, she would lassoed Della and wrangled her right down to the carpet. Della looked up surprised, no trace of embarassment, just the familiar face of offended innocence, dimples and all: “Lighten up, Care. I’m just showing him the ropes a bit here,” she said, buttoning her blouse. “Get out of my living room, you little predator. Cow!” Carol wanted to sound as strong as her words, but she needed her puffer. Della widened her eyes at Carol as if to communicate 'Not in front of the children'. Then, she turned to Roy beside her on the couch and layed a silver-ringed hand to his flabby pink cheek. “Sorry about that, sweetie,” Della said cheerfully. It was in this gesture that Carol saw the flash of a red plastic bangle on Della’s wrist. “And you stole one of my Bakelites while you were at it! Is there anything else that you would like to fuck with while you’re here?” Carol’s high nasal voice was no match for the intensity of her words, and she was conscious of this. She just felt an overwhelming exhaustion as she stood there in her living room, trying to understand this bizarre scene before her.

"Inventing a life for dialogue"

Just read an inspiring New Yorker article about how writer Richard Price uses dialogue. If you are a writer trying to write fiction, I highly recommend giving this a read. I've always had trouble figuring out how to do dialogue. My solution is just to write in the first person. Reading this helped me see other possibilities. When I sat down to write today, I felt less constrained by the dialogue problem. Here are a couple of little extracts of dialogue I wrote this afternoon:

“Lighten up, Care. I’m just showing him the ropes a bit here” she said, buttoning her blouse. “Get out of my house, you little predator. Cow!” Carol wanted to sound as strong as her words, but her voice cracked.

“There’s really no limit to who Della will pull her tits out for,” said Dan, reassuring her. “She’s a freak and a fuck-up. A country bumpkin, really. Look at where she comes from. Forget about it, Care.”

A Hypochondriac Meditating

I'm chilled a bit. Hope I'm not getting another cold. And my back hurts. Shit. Maybe I should have opted for the chair today. I really have to get back to see my acupunture guy. I'm completely blocked up. Or, yoga maybe. But, I haven't found a yoga class that I'm totally comfortable with here. I need Mark Laham. Breathe. Distractions out. Fresh air in. Distractions out in a cloud of black smoke. Gone. I'm feeling a little twitch in my cheek. Shit. I wonder if I'm having a little stroke or something. Or, it could be Bell's Palsy which I guess wouldn't be the end of the world. Or, could be a brain tumour, I guess. Or, just the beginnings of a brain tumour. My aunt had one, so it's not like we don't have brain tumours in the family. Distractions out. Breathe. Sit up straight. Or, it could just be a stroke. That would suck having your face all paralysed after a stroke. Stuck in an expression you can't control. Affecting your speech, even. I guess meditation would help me deal with this kind of thing. Distractions out. Fresh air in. My arms feel heavy, too, today. Maybe I have heart disease.

Doing Art

One more tip for surviving the eternal winter: do art. Do any kind of art that works for you. If you feel you lack "talent", call yourself a "concept artist". Form an alternative band. Sew. Knit. Write. Dance. Paint. Flirt.

Surviving....continued

Just a few notes on my last list, and some of the responses.

#1) Self-medication: yes, do this. Don't be stoic. HOWEVER, don't overdo the red wine thing. It's easy to do. It tastes so good. But, it can kind of destroy you the next day if you aren't careful. Then, you don't feel like doing the long walk, eating the chocolate bunny, and all that good stuff. Unfortunately, that's where I'm at today. I overdid #1.

#2) Anonymous suggested flirting, and I think that is super. And, Pandora, I don't think flirting has to be "mutual", although that is fun when it happens. But, flirting just is. And, as Conch Shell pointed out last night, you can always deny its existence if you need to. You can say, "I was just being my usual charming self"... But flirting is tricky in Ottawa and I think it requires a whole lot more study and analysis. My experience with flirting here has been mostly unsuccessful, leaving me feeling fairly asexual overall. Not that flirting has to have an "outcome"; but even a little mild fucking acknowledgement or a nod of appreciation would be nice.

#3) Anonymous also mentioned getting a pedicure, and I think that is a good idea. Or, you can do it yourself if you are able to bend over without getting head spins. Again, be careful with #1.

#4) I recommend doing some Yin Yoga. It's a kind of yoga where you lie on the floor for a really long time. Lots of hip openers, which are really good for the mojo, and treating late-winter asexuality.

#5) There is no 5th thing.

Surviving the last gasps of winter

Here are some tips for surviving the winter that just won't quit.

1) Medicate yourself with whatever you need. Don't try to be stoic. Take the edge off, folks.
2) Do some shopping. Buy some cheap rubber boots for the meltdown that is coming. Buy a tank top, crank the heat, and walk around in your place. Buy books and music. Play the music loud. This is no time for moderation.
3) Take advantage of the longer days. Take long walks after work and walk really fast. Feel the spring fever that is starting to hit. Wear all the usual layers so you won't get pissed off in the middle of the walk.
4) Cook really elaborate meals and drink and rant about hockey violence while cooking. Pretend you are Italian.
5) Do something spontaneous that you haven't dared to do: buy a new pet, move in with someone, leave someone, get a Brazilian wax, take up snowboarding.
6) Learn to knit baby booties in gender neutral colours. The Knitnut told me that you can make them in one sitting. There are a lot of babies born in the spring.
7) Buy a beret and pretend you are a Parisienne. Adopt the attitude.
8) Go to a hair salon, ask for something modern and see what you end up with.
9) Go out and buy a chocolate Easter bunny on sale and eat it right out on the street while you are doing #3.
10) There is no tenth thing.

Oh Bob!

Bob continues to be one of Ottawa's most delightful bloggers. I can't even find words to express how much I love his postings. His latest one, "Mitten Birds", is possibly the most adorable, sweetest thing I've ever read. I don't want to pressure the man, but I would love it if he blogged just a tiny bit more often.
I know this is technically "metablogging" and deserves to be over on the ESI blog, but there is a lot happening over there right now.

Youtube and Shower Caps

Happy Easter, by the way.

But let's move back to shower caps and their uses. I did a little internet research on the subject and found two Youtube videos on the subject.

The first Youtube video is a bit dull, and in a slow, tedious way shows how shower caps can be used to cover bowls. Woodsy already told us about that one.

The second video is hilarious, and you will get lots of interesting ideas about uses for the shower cap (baby nappy and fart catcher are my favourites, but I have a penchant for toilet humour). Warning: this video shows a middle-aged guy wearing either a red speedo or red speedo-like underwear, if you are sensitive to this kind of thing. I'm fine with it, but think he might be cuter in boxers.

David Scrimshaw might consider making a Youtube video on his uses for binder clips.

Shower Caps

Happy Good Friday all! I hope you all had a good day like I did.

I seem to be stuck on the consumer theme here. Forgive me. Just wanted to let you know about the GREAT BUYS I got in Chinatown the other day. I went to Global Homeware & Giftware (708C Somerset St. West at Arthur St.) and bought THREE top-quality shower caps. I picked up their business card while I was at it. They advertise themselves as selling "powerful kitchen rangehoods", but they have SO much more. If you haven't been there, you really must go. Above are photos of TWO high-quality shower caps I bought for almost nothing. I gave the third one to a friend who called it "the cadillac of shower caps". Shower caps are underrated and extremely useful for those times when you don't want to wash and dry your hair, but you want to rinse off your body. It's a time-saver. A lifehack. You can also use shower caps as covers for your bicycle seat on a rainy day. Or, alternatively, you can buy a very funky bicycle seat cover from Mintyfresh here.

More consumer behaviour

I've decided I was a lounge diva in a past life. I continue to buy impractical things that a) I can't really wear to work, and b) that I won't normally wear when I'm just hanging with friends. I am buying all kinds of fancy shit that is both flashy and on sale. Today's purchase was......a silver suit. I was just going to buy the skirt because it is cute, and I thought I could get away with wearing a silver skirt to work; in fact, I thought it might brighten things up a bit there. Then, the saleswoman pulled out two other matching pieces: a short jacket, and a kind of bustier thing. She successfully convinced that I needed the SET and that I could wear the pieces separately or together to work, to a wedding, to a baptism. Yes, she mentioned baptism. Even though I can't recall being invited to a baptism, I was sucked into the sales spiel. But, I have the silver suit here, and I love it!
I was happy with my last silver clothing purchase, too. I assumed that one was mid-life crisis-induced. I'm not sure what this one is all about... So, any weddings, baptisms or other fancy events out there that any of you would like to invite me to?

Commercial break

A break from the Havana photos here. Let's have a commercial break, shall we? This is what blogging is really all about, is it not? Today I had a conversation with a friend about the Spitzer whore incident in which I ended up shouting: "We are all whores and johns on some level, are we not? We live in a whorish culture in whorish times!" My friend told me she thought I needed to spend less time in Cuba.
OK. Here comes the product endorsement, folks. I, Aggie, am endorsing a Winter Face Cream produced by the Green Beaver Company. It's local, it's green, and it's cheap ($10.99), compared to what women can spend on face creams -- you know, the ones that promise 40+ women that they can look like an Emperor's Club "model" after twenty applications. I've used this face cream all winter, and I've noticed that I haven't aged a bit. There are no new wrinkles. I repeat, no new wrinkles. And, because it's local and green and all that, you can feel all virtuous when you buy this product. Less whorish. Available at your local health food store.

Fresh papaya and banana plate

There a few tiny pieces of guava on this plate, too, but I had eaten most of them before the photo.

Havana street at night

I won't bore you with....

my dream about Obama last night. He was smooth as silk, and whispered softly in my ear. I told him I had been thinking about Hillary, but that I was open....quite undecided, really. As a voter.
Turning now to the Cuban phone booth. I have a bit of a thing for phone booths since they are becoming relics. This one looks like something from outer space.

More Havana people-watching

More photos to come...but a brief interlude

I dreamt last night of Hillary Clinton. We were hanging out together. She was beautiful in her beige pant suit. In the dream, she convinced me to vote for her. She said, "That other guy doesn't know his ass from his elbow." In my dream, I was completely taken with Hillary -- her style, her mojo, her intellect. I was totally on the Hillary bandwagon. I was in love with Hillary.

People watching

I love people watching. It's fun to watch people at their freakiest (like the time in New York when I saw two women fighting because one had opened up an umbrella in the other woman's face. "Relax!" screamed one. "No, YOU relax!" screeched the other one.) But, what I really like is watching people resting.

Birds in a Cage

Clotheslines

I have a clothesline fetish.

Large American Car

"It's like riding on a cloud, my secret dream
my guilty pleasure, my flying machine
my ocean liner, my home on wheels
I can't tell you how good it feels" - from "Large American Car" by Jimmi Jetz of Astronaut Love Triangle.

Kids having fun

It's fun seeing kids really having fun. These boys are swimming in a little pool beside the Malecon. Look at the expression of the boy stretched out in the water on his back. Pure bliss!
The scene below is a couple of girls I saw playing. At first I thought they were rough-housing, then the interaction transformed into a hug.

amor en el parque

I discovered a sweet little community park in Vedado with beautiful mosaic benches. This one used old typewriter keys as tiles. While I was admiring the bench, I looked over and saw the love scene below.

Truckload of Condoms

I'm back...

I'm back from a delightful vacation in Havana. I will show a few pictures of my vacation, starting with this one. This is the toilet in the lobby of one of the places I stayed. Fun, eh? I did use one of these toilets, but didn't do the in tandem thing.
I'm currently going through a bit of re-entry shock here, but I think I'll be ok. I had hoped that winter would be over when I got back, but this doesn't seem to be the case.

Off the blog for a little while...

I will be off the blog for a little while. I am heading to a communist southern place where I plan to drink rhum, listen to music, and look at people and old cars. I won't likely be blogging from there. I will keep a notebook of blogworthy moments, however. See you in 10 days or so.

One big lavalamp

I haven't been to Toronto in a while, and didn't realize that the CN Tower is now a giant lavalamp. Very cool. Not so cool when you point it out to your friend, who turns around to look at it too quickly and falls out of her chair. I won't write anymore about this because she doesn't want to talk about it.
I have to admit, it's way more impressive than the NCC Sound and Light Show on Parliament Hill. We need a large phallic symbol in our Ottawa skyline with lights shooting through it.

Toronto Update

I'm having a lovely time in Toronto, although, like Zoom, I always feel like I just fell off the turnip truck here.

Here are my highlights of trip so far:
Eating really good gnocchi. Looking at shoes in the shoe museum. Getting drunk and eating about a million wings. Watching the lunar eclipse from a Bloor Street bar. Talking to a fellow who confessed that CBC's Steve Puddicombe hated him. Me, convincing him that probably Steve Puddicombe actually loved him, but was unable to express it. Him, believing I may be right. Miraculously not waking up with a hangover. Eating a huge bento box of Korean food. Meeting a guy who puts balloons on his miniature poodle's feet to keep them dry instead of buying those overpriced dog shoes sold in pet stores. What a fabulous idea!

Purchased today

1) one airline ticket to a warmer climate
2) one train ticket to Toronto
3) kitty litter (for the special boy)
4) high-end, special needs cat food (he's a special, special boy)
5) a 5-pack of functional panties (ok, ok, just one thong in the five)
6) a pair of cotton flannel lounge pants (because it's important to be comfortable when lounging)
7) Chinese medicine for diarrhea and for constipation (so that I'll be prepared for anything on the trip)
8) several pairs of earplugs (nothing that could puncture an eardrum and kill me)
9) an adorable little pencil case (so I can be one of those people who keeps their pens and pencils together)
10) a pork tenderloin (for supper)

People who collect things

I've become obsessed with people who collect things. I find the whole collecting thing so freaky, and yet so human. This weekend I met a woman who collects Bakelite bangles. Apparently, Bakelite is no ordinary plastic. If you are a real Bakelite collector, you must rub the plastic vigorously until it warms up, then give it a sniff. It should smell like burnt human hair and formaldehyde. How delightful! Anyway, that means you have the genuine thing, the real McCoy. These bracelets can be worth a fortune.

Update on Beer Foam Guy

So, the guy who got dumped for flicking beer foam in his girlfriend's face was over last evening. He's a charming man, a loyal friend, a hard worker -- all those good qualities we like. But, unfortunately, in his distressed state, he drank all our beer, stayed far too long, went to pee about twenty-five times, and then hissed at my cat. That was it for me. I almost launched into a, "This is the kind of stupid drunken shit that you do that will continue to get your sorry ass dumped, asshole" rant. But, I didn't. I just said, "I'm going to bed." And he took this as a hint to leave. After he left, my dischevelled friend acknowledged, "Maybe there was a lot more going on below the surface of the beer foam." I agreed. No one fucking hisses at my cat.

Sending love out into the blogosphere

I am not going to say Happy Valentine's Day. I know the day is a nice opportunity to give, receive, and consume chocolate. But the day makes so many people feel like shit: people who are lonely, people who have loved and lost, people who happen to just be in a crappy relationship. One of my friends just reported going out and buying a pair of $200 boots to ease the pain of V-day. That's ok, I guess, but it depresses me. We have fucked up ideas and expectations about love and romance that I think are perpetuated by this ridiculous day. We need some other 'models' besides the tired, sappy Valentine's Day one. Megan's"romancing the world at the Manx" idea is groundbreaking, and one that I hope will become a tradition. I wish I were there. Instead, I'm in Montreal being the Valentine's Day grinch.
Tonight I've invited over a friend whose girlfriend dumped him on Fish or Cut Bait Day because he splashed a tiny bit of beer foam in her face. He said she was teasing him, that he meant the foam flicking as a joke, that he apologized several times. She found the beer foam incident a bit much, and took the opportunity to make her exit. I'm sure there was a lot more beyond the foam flicking. But I digress.
In the spirit of romancing the world, I would like to take this opportunity to send love out to the blogsphere. Good pure bloggy love that demands nothing in return.

Boozing on a Budget

Another one of my brilliant and thrifty friends has come up with this economical weekly drinking schema for two, which
she gave to me in an email as follows:

"Here's my weekly boozing on a budget formula for two:

1 x 1.5 L bottle Citra Montepulciano D'Abruzzo (approx $13) - Italy section at LCBO
4 x 650 ml bottle Anchor Brewing Co "Liberty" ale ($3.50 each?) - Import beer at LCBO

Each bottle of beer gives you two nice glasses. It's a very full-bodied beer. Delish. And that big bottle of wine lasts forever (or, two evenings, depending on how the week is going). It's a tasty, medium-bodied, fruity wine that goes nice with food."

Please note: this plan is for light to moderate drinkers, not hardcore drinkers. But I like the simplicity of it. Do others have a weekly boozing schema that is worth sharing?

Looking for Kidney Warmers...

My shopping consultant who just showed me how to "do Winners" also introduced me to kidney warmers. A kidney warmer is a finely knitted tube that covers your kidneys and keeps your core body warm. My shopping consultant's mother got her kidney warmer in Germany. I'm wondering if anyone knows where I can get one in Ottawa. I know, I know, all you knitters are going to say "Just make one yourself!" But I want one that actually fits under my clothes.

I did find two models online. The first one is a high-end Made in Germany model that costs a fortune but offers the following health benefits: "expands and strengthens your aura", "protects from EMR (electromagnetic and wireless radiation)", "strengthens your subtle energy bodies", "activates your self-healing forces", and "supports general well-being and concentration". I need all of these things.

Then, I found a cheaper American version of the kidney warmer here. As you can see, the health benefits aren't nearly as sexy: "post-operative"..."reassuring"? Blech.

How to Shop at Winners

I have a friend who is a shopping genius, which I am definitely not. I can go out and blow lots of money, and end up with nothing I like, or with things that are unwearable. Yesterday, I shadowed her in Winners, and took notes of her strategy. She started off saying, "OK. When my time is limited like this, I just go directly to the Handbag and Shoe sections, because that is where you will find the best deals in this store." As she fingered through the handbags, she said, "Once I found a Dolce & Gabbana bag for $80 here, if you can believe it." That statement didn't mean a lot to me, but I got the idea. I started looking at the black bags, and she said, "It's harder to find a good black bag here, I'll tell you that. You are more likely to find a high quality brown or tan one." Then, she pulled out a nice light, soft, camel coloured leather bag with dark straps. "Here we go. This is you. This is a really really good deal." We noticed a tiny tiny pen mark on it and she suggested we try to get it marked down even more. Then, we went to the shoes. It took her a few minutes there before she said, "Nothing worth looking at here today. It's been seriously picked over." Then, she suggested going to the Underwear and Sleepwear section since we had some extra time. She said, "Sometimes you can find Calvin Klein panties here for 4 or 5 dollars, and they really are better quality." We looked, but no luck on this. Then, she ranted a bit about fleece, and how it was a terrible fabric that doesn't breathe.
We had a couple of minutes left, so we went to the sweaters. We saw things we liked, but the sizing was all wrong. She said, "Don't ever buy anything that is the wrong size even if you love it. It will just frustrate you." We went to the cash where we managed to knock a few dollars off the leather bag. Then, she suggested I go to La Vie en Rose and pick up a pair of $10 flannel pajamas. She confessed to buying 4 pairs. She said, "When they are giving them away like that, I tend to just buy them up. Everyone needs flannel pajamas."

Is anyone else out there freaked out?

Since I read the story about the guy who died from using a Q-tip, I have been freaked out. I admit, I'm going through a bit of crazy phase right now. This morning I wrenched the Q-tip box away from my dischevelled friend, screaming "You shouldn't put anything smaller than a saucer in your ear!" Then, when he turned away, I threw the entire box of 400 Q-tips in the garbage. They are fucking dangerous! I know, I know, you could still use them to dust a keyboard. Or, you could use it apply make-up. But, those little innocent-looking sticks with cotton spun tips are killers just waiting to unleash themselves.
What freaks me out more, is that some creative writerswere already onto this years ago.

Richard Desjardins

I am in love with Quebec singer-songwriter,Richard Desjardins. If you want beautiful music to get you through your February blues, go out and buy his 1998 unplugged CD, Boom Boom.
Yesterday at a musical event, I sidled up to the bar, and realized I was literally rubbing elbows with Richard Desjardins. We smiled at each other, and I forgot that I was there to order a drink. Then, today, while walking down the street, I looked across, and there was Richard Desjardins with his little black suede jacket and his smoke. I'm convinced that it is destiny: we were meant to be together. He is a teeny bit older than I am. On another blog, I was defending Julia Child's decision to put her much older husband in a nursing home while she continued on with her work. Message to Richard Desjardins: when we get married, I promise I won't ship you off to the nursing home.

Silver lining

I've had a rain cloud over my head for about a week now, and am trying to do all the usual stuff to make myself feel better: meditate, exercise, walk, eat well, make crafts, read inspirational stuff, get acupunture, etc.. I may need to add "get drugs", "see a shrink", "go to a nunnery for a couple of days", and "get a plane ticket out of winter" to this list, but we'll see.
Anyway, I did have a few rain cloud lifting chuckles when I read a couple of items from CBC health news today. One story was about sperm in Saskatoon. The headline was Don't Spurn the Sperm. Nice one! If anyone is looking for sperm, there is plenty out there just going to waste.
The other story that made me laugh was this one about how it is all those healthy people out there who just won't die that are the real drains on the system. So stop blaming the smokers, or the obese people, or the obese smokers!

Latest crafts

Blogging wierdness

I have not blogged in the past couple of days. One reason is because I became obsessed with what was happening over at the Mysterious East. If you have a couple of hours, and want to read the blow-by-blow of the St. Thomas University labour dispute, it's a fascinating read. Or, maybe you'd rather watch the Superbowl...
But, the main reason I haven't blogged is because my blogging topics were just a bit too wierd, disturbing or personal. For example, here are some of the topics that I have not blogged about:

- my cat's suffering from feline obsessive-compulsive disorder (I'm considering medicating him)
- my menstrual cycle and how it has made me insane (I know there are bloggers out there writing about peeing their own pants, which is cool and everything, but I'm just not ready to get that intimate with y'all)
- my bizarre dream about having a sexual adventure with a barbie-Ken sized male (it's not what you think)
- my bizarre dream about hounding a fellow who wouldn't say "hello" to me, and discovering he was deaf (I thought he was just being one of those unfriendly Ottawa types)
- more ADD/meditation moments (there have been lots of these on my quest for enlightenment).

Instead of blogging about these things, I'm going to put up some photos soon of my latest craft projects. Good old crafting, eh? I'm planning to craft my way through the Stupidbowl today.

"In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind we've gone too far"

This is my song of the day: Video Killed the Radio Star (1979) by the British group, the Buggles. I was crabby. Then, I heard this song, and have transformed from crabby to happy. If you want to be happy, you can watch and listen here. Brilliant. And, lots of costume inspiration here for Astronaut Love Triangle.

Intruder scare

This morning, I woke up at 6 a.m. from another one of my twisted dreams, and was convinced there was an intruder in the place. I can be very country bumpkin-ish about leaving doors unlocked or open, so I assumed someone had just walked in off the street. My first response was to turn on the bedside light because I had heard somewhere that that can scare someone off. I then put on my pants. I didn't like the idea of fighting off an intruder without proper ass-covering. I then ran for the phone and was poised to dial 911. I slithered around, back to the wall, turning on lights, until I was convinced that there was no one there. Meanwhile my cat remained in deep slumber. Finally, I managed to go back to sleep for a couple of more hours, and woke up in my pants, drooling on the phone.

Passport

I finally have a passport in my hands. This is a major achievement, as I lost the passport application not once, but twice. I don't believe I blogged about the second time losing it because it was simply too painful to talk about. But, I managed to find it for the second time, immediately went to the passport office, and now all is well in the world. Now, I need to decide where to go. I am thinking mid-February, somewhere warm, where people speak Spanish and dance.
I'm keeping the passport in a very very safe place, and will sew a special little bright crafty thing to protect and make it easy for me to locate.

What's happening with the crafting, you ask?

In case you were wondering what is happening with the crafting, I did have a little hiatus, but am now back into it. I just made a little clutch that looks like this one that I am calling my "feminine supplies clutch". Photos will be coming soon.
Other craft news: I have a fabulous new rotary cutter that I got for Christmas which has changed my life.
I need help from you crafties on what to do with my retro tablecloth. I have decided I will never ever use that thing on a table. Ideas? How can I re-purpose the happy-bappy-housewife-on-valium tablecloth? Zoom suggested I "burn" the cloth at one point, and, of course, that is still a viable option.

Growing up WASP

Remember a while back when I was blogging about my friend who said she needed to see a counsellor, and I responded by saying "You were made for counselling"? Then, I had regrets about saying this to her because I wasn't sure would take it as a compliment? Anyway, she did take it as a compliment, fortunately, and she's loving the counselling experience. She said, "Sometimes I think my counsellor is a bit full of shit. But, that's probably because I'm not being totally honest myself." You see how good she is? It's made me want to go back and see my own counsellor, so that we can get together and talk about our sessions while drinking. Tonight we talked about the trauma of growing up in WASP families, WASP repression, and WASP complexity. How we are both messes because of it all.

Apocalyptic Dream

Here is my dream of this morning:

My house was slated to be razed, so I took the liberty of writing and painting all over the walls. I started to salvage some of the furniture, then realized that would be futile because ---- the apocalypse was coming!!!! The scene outside was chaos: big drunken parties with barfing people, and--for some reason--waterslides everywhere. People wanted to slide down waterslides as civilization as we know it was coming to a close. I took refuge in a grotty basement apartment with a young stoner who looked like a younger, chunkier George Stroumboulopoulos. He made a few advances, which--for some reason--I rejected, even though the apocalypse was coming!! We did get nicely stoned together, however, and then ended up in a caravan, migrating to a place that offered -- we weren't sure what. The apocalypse was still coming. We arrived at the place, and were assigned rusty old lockers. That's when I woke up.

Monkey Mind

As many of you, I am MEDITATING these days, or attempting to, at the local Buddhist centre. Nothing like meditation to make you realize how nuts you are. Here is an example of my mind in meditation today:

Boy, it's easier for me to sit in lotus position. I can thank the fucking hot room yoga hell for that. At least something good has come out that: I can sit on the floor properly. Feeling good. Feeling really good. I have got this meditation shit right down now. Enlightenment, here I come! Oh shit. My eye is itchy. Should I scratch it? No. Stillness. Stillness. Maybe it will go away. It's not. Damn! Maybe I have pink eye. Oh no, the other one is itchy now. Shit, I probably have pink eye in both fucking eyes. Where the hell did I get that? Oh, I think it's ok. Just opening my eyes a wee bit fixed it. Good. Ok. We're back. We're meditating. Too bad about Heath Ledger. He was hot. OK. back to the meditating. I hear kids screaming. They sound like a flock of gulls. I hear a truck backing up. It sounds like the beginning of Fur Elise. Da da daa da da daa daaaaaa. Back to the meditating. Maybe a mantra will help me focus again. What's my mantra? Oh shit, I forgot. I think there is an OM in there somewhere. Someone is wearing perfume. That shit should be banned everywhere. Back to the meditation. OM. I hope Zoom wins the contest. OM.

The Banality of Blogging

Today I woke up groggy, but after 2 cups of coffee, I was ok. I had to do a bit driving today. The roads were slippery, but not too bad. They don't plow the roads in Montreal as well as they do in good old Ottawa. My cat has been wired today. He got into the garbage last night. Today he destroyed a roll of toilet paper. Bad kitty! I did a fair bit of reading today, but the writing is not progressing. I need to reflect on this. Now I'm going to attempt another Bikram Hot Room Hell Yoga class. It's still snowing. I will walk there. Yawn.
Click on Rick Mercer's The Last Guy to Get His Own Blog . You will laugh.

Getting Through the Saddest Day of the Year

It's not easy to get through the saddest day of the year. Here are some Aggie recommendations.

1) Try to think like Buddha. Understand that sadness will pass, like a dark cloud. And if you've ever flown through a cloud, you know that clouds are just a whole lot of wet air.
2) Shop. If ever there was a day for retail therapy, this is it. I bought an alpaca sweater today that I love. And, an alpaca neck warmer. And, an alpaca hat. It's all soft and warm and beautiful. I know, the stock markets are crashing all around us. All the more reason to....shop!
3) Drink a bit, but not too much. It's a good evening for wine with dinner.
4) Take a bath with your finest bath products.
5) Read something inspirational. Julia Child's My Life in France will change your life. Read it.
6) Walk. I walked a lot today, and that was good.
7) Hula hoop.
8) Go online and check flights to warm places.
9) Play some salsa, or listen to Robert Plante meets Allison Krauss in Raising Sands(excellent CD, in my humble opinion).
10) Find a muse. Mine is currently Bob and his delightful rants.

Happy Saddest Day of the Year

I would like to wish you all a Happy Saddest Day of the Year. I recommend making the best of it. Whine. Get under the covers with trashy reading material. Eat chocolate. Wallow in it. It's going to get better. We are heading towards Fish or Cut Bait Day.

More High-End Personals

A few more snippets from the the high-end Personals (New York Review of Books, Jan.17, 2008). This time I've selected what these high-end folks are looking for:

"a nice man"
"a classy lady"
"a Manhattanite, artist preferred"
"a co-adventurer"
"a physically fit, sexually active, psychologically stable, politically informed, not religious or 'spiritual' for short..."
"an accomplished man"
"a financially solvent man"
"a progressive, TLC, single guy for life celebrations"
"a genuine mensch"
"a thoughtful woman refusing to be defined by her current disappointment"

I like this one, too: "Can you I sustain that magical flow of cultivated thought and creative sensuality?" A tall order, that one!

Newsflash: the inventer of the Hula Hoop just died!

The Research Advisor just sent me this, and said, "I hope 2008 isn't the year Aggie puts curses on people".

5BX, Bikram, Hula Hooping and Pole Dancing

Today I decided that to launch my new fitness plan, I should go to a Bikram Yoga class. It stunk-- literally. It's a stinky class because they turn up the heat and make it like a sauna, and people sweat a lot. The instructor was a 6'5" woman with shockingly large breasts. She was a scarey drill sargeant. This is not really yoga, is it? It's more like hell. I prefer the yoga classes where you lie on the floor in child's pose and the teacher is smiling and making you feel good about yourself. I got a special deal for an introductory first-week to Bikram, so I guess I'll go back for a little more hell. Ahhhh!!!!
Onto hula hooping. I'm a really good hula hooper, so I figured I should integrate this into my fitness regime, along with my 5BX program, as recommended by the Chair and others. Did you know that one minute of hula hooping burns the same number of calories as running an 8-minute mile, or doing a high-impact aerobics class? I found that on the internet, so it must be so!!
I've found a pole dancing course nearby, so stay tuned. Hard to believe I was thinking of going to a nunnery a few days ago.

The Nunnery didn't work out....

Ok, I didn't make it to the nunnery, folks. Not this week, anyway. The place is booked solid. Apparently, I was not the only person who thought this would be a good idea.
So, instead of chastity, solitude and silence, I'ved opted for shagging, lively social interaction, hot room yoga, and lots of reading.
This week I'm reading Jane Austen's Emma, Julia Child's My Life in France (thank you Jo Stockton!) and a little tiny book by Harry G. Frankfurt called On Bullshit.

Get thee to a nunnery

I've decided to go into isolation for a few days. I'm going to a nunnery. I'm leaving on Saturday. I will not be blogging from the nunnery. I will write about my nunnery experience when I get out.

High-end Personals

I love the Personals in the New York Review of Books. Here are some of the fabulous women featured in the 'Holiday Issue':

Smart and beautiful, yet unequivocally cute

Known for laser-like intellect balanced by warm heart and disarming ability to laugh at herself

Pilates toned, approachable, blonde widow

Aesthetically tuned, stylish, yet uncomplicated

Loves literature, Italy anywhere, Montana, Kenyan safari, warm ambiance of meals with friends, Ansel Adams, theater

Love the regular stuff -- golf, skiing, opera, books, music, and theater.

Left and right-brained, technologically up-to-date. Dog person. Ocean person.

Think grown-up Reese Witherspoon

Refined, yet uncomplicated -- can eat peanut butter straight from the jar, yet totally comfortable at White House dinner

Enjoys opera-going, cooking haute, and river-rafting

Award-winning career, yet completely unpretentious and down-to-earth

I Need A Retreat

Thanks to all of you who recommended books. My second request to you is to recommend a retreat. I am desperately in need of one. I am open to a yoga retreat, a writer's retreat, a meditation retreat, a spa retreat, or any combination of these. I need the retreat to be in a place that doesn't require a passport, since I still don't have one. I do not want anything that involves interpretative dancing, raw foods, mindful eating, colonic cleanses, or sitting around a circle with strangers and disclosing. Ideas?

Elizabeth *ay

Confession: I just realized that I thought Elizabeth May, head of the Green Party, was also Elizabeth Hay, the writer. I thought Elizabeth May must be some kind of goddess -- to lead the Green Party, and to churn out award-winning novels.
The following conversation alerted me to my error:

Person: Do you like Elizabeth Hay?
Me: I don't know her novels. But, I want to read her latest....I'm just amazed this woman has time to do what she does.
Person: Huh? What else does she do?
Me: Come on! Are you joking? Imagine the hours she puts in as leader of the Green Party.
Person: (Laughter.......Guffaws)... Oh Aggie dear, you are having another one of your dyslexic moments.

Holding a cat shower

This one is for Zoom, who has just adopted the gorgeous DUNCAN Donut.

-Invite friends
-Tell them to bring gifts for the cat
-Serve blackened catfish with El Gato Negro wine
-Make a cattail or pussy willow centrepiece for the table.
-Make a cake in the shape of cat's head. Use orange food colouring so that the cake will look like Duncan.
-Play party games like Pin the Tail on the Cat.

Other ideas?

What I Learned Today

I learned today that it is not a good idea to get your eyebrows done in a strange city from a stranger just because you have nothing better to do. You may end up looking like a cartoon character. I am looking tres Powerpuff Girl right now.

I need a book

I need a book. What I'm looking for is.... something to break the chill and boredom of January, something that will change me, something that will help me, something that is readable, something that will inspire me.
I was going to make this a contest-- like you get "dinner with Aggie at the Usual Spot" if you recommend the winning book. But, I don't want to have dinner with you. I just want to read the book.

Easing in

My sister-in-law made this cheesecake, which kicks ass. I suspect many of you are trying to get back on track with the healthy eating and exercise. So am I. But, I've decided I'm easing into the new year with this cheesecake.

I love Bob

I know you all know this already. And, I know that I should be writing about bigger things like resolutions, world politics, global warming. But, I simply want to begin this year by saying how much I love Bob. I loved the charming honesty of his latest rant about Ottawa freecycling. I adore his posts about his cats. They just melt my heart.
There are so many other wonderful blogs out there that deserve recognition. But, there is something about Bob.