I have been a really poor blogger as of late. So poor, in fact, that I wouldn’t even call myself a blogger. I am a sometimes, a fair-weather, a lazy, a sidetracked. I’ve accumulated too many drafts again. Some of them actually contain just one word; the start of what might have been a very profound and provocative thought but sadly was never seen through to the end; or, really much of the beginning for that matter.

I blame summer which sounds hardly excusable because who blames summer? I’ve been out! I’ve been at the beach! I’ve been on a boat. I’ve been on the road! I’ve been practicing the lost art of s.f.a. I’ve been eating at the Richmond Night Market. I watched Back to the Future outside on a big screen at David Lam Park with Keira and Jordypants!

Cool!

… I’ve been gallivanting in Seattle! I’ve been napping like a European.

(the rock biter has nothing to do with anything, I just have affection for him)

I find during the hot season my mind takes this kind of psychological vacation. I become very immersed in my physical life and what’s going on around me which in turn causes my brain to go into this kind of out of office mode. It’s like a continuous sensory stimulation that I get distracted by, or maybe too enveloped by. I get distracted by things like the way a pure blue sky looks first thing in the morning. Or the way the hot sun feels on my face. The smell of beach on my skin. The way the air feels around me and the way the sand crunches under my bare feet. How hot my apartment is and the way my curtains blow in the evening. The colours of summer clothes. It’s the food, oh the food: The juiciest peaches, the reddest strawberries, the sumptuous raspberries, the deepest blue blueberries that pop, the blissful watermelon. The BBQs. The grilled zucchini. The summer salads. The mojitos.

I don’t like the idea of this though. It’s criminal and very mean to trap the berries and insult them with gelatin of all things.

By the way, do you ever listen to the way you pronounce the word “continue?” Do you pronounce it like “kin-tin-u?” You shouldn’t.

So I saw Eat Pray Love on Monday. It resonated with me at a very deep level that I won’t get into because at this point it will probably need its own spiral-bound, four-section notebook once I’m through with explaining all the profound ways it affected me and how similarly this part of her (her meaning Liz, not Julia) life made sense with mine in many ways (run on).

I can say, though, that I’ve known I’m not finished with where I am right now which has always been exciting for me to know and this movie kicked my ass a little further toward that.  Kind of like the One Week effect. There is a world of inner and outer places I need to visit and explore.

As a side note, I’ve noticed that it’s in your 30s when the real divide occurs between the single life vs the committed/family life. I think it’s in your 30s when you can really be defined as a grown-up (in terms of chronology) so you get a taste of what the world looks like from a grown-up perspective. In hindsight, my 20s was still quite young, by definition. I didn’t have any real sense of time, I was just going about my life and I realise that now that I’m 33. I was all over the place about what I wanted, the expectations I had of my life, the sacrifices I almost made to make these expectations a reality. At the same time, my awareness of myself and the way I look at the world, especially in my mid- to late-20s, was the same as it is now… I just listen to, and honour myself, more.

Basically, I’m single. Life is short, the night is young. I pack tomorrow.

What else…

I’ve connected with some people from home who have made their way over to Vancouver as well. It’s curious because with the exception of a few of us (many of us go back to childhood) we were never friends as a group back then. We were aware of each other in passing and from living in a small town but some of us were in different grades, went to different high schools, or had different circles of friends. But here we all are and familiarity and our pasts have become the building blocks for a friendship that’s ready to be made. It’s great! We all went on a 3-hour boat cruise around the Burrard Inlet a few weeks ago that I invited Gee to as well. Initial conversation was spent catching up over things we remember from growing up. Who we knew… what we did… where we hung out… who we dated… how we ended up in Vancouver, etc. It’s like a reunion of strangers. We all ended up at my friend Matt’s place for the final night of the Celebration of Lights fireworks show which we watched from his rooftop patio while doing that party thing that people do.

For the animal lovers and those who understand my love for my cats: Marshall’s doing really well. He had one more follow-up appt where his creatinine level had dropped even more. His BUN level was slightly raised and because of that he’s got to stay on his subQ therapy for now. We did determine that he had acute renal failure where acute means toxicity vs chronic, which develops over time on its own. It was due to him biting the lily leaves in the garden. I didn’t realise Sylvia had any until the stalks started to bud and then bloom. Lily plants are so toxic to cats they only need to ingest a small amount from the leaves to poison their kidneys and such was the case with my Marscapone. It was very hard for me to realise this at first, because I felt guilty, but at the same time the outcome for acute renal failure is usually a bit more encouraging than chronic because if you nip the acute in the bud right away they can resume life as it were for years before the kidneys eventually start to degenerate. I’m hoping by the time that happens he’ll be a sweet, old man.

I went to Ladner a couple week-ends ago with my friend Nicholas who has a friend named Brent who lives in a silo on a farm. Brent is an artist and it’s how he makes his living. He is one of the most creatively interesting people I’ve ever met and what he’s done with his silo-turned-home is like nothing I have ever seen before. I swear I took photos of every inch of the inside, as you will see. The land itself is just as incredible. It’s sprawling and forested, AND it has its very own Cowboy Town which was built by the property owners and is often used in movies and TV shows. It’s like a fantasy. Of course, as with many farms, there are horses and on this farm the horses are affectionate, inquisitive, and like to nibble clothes. They were so beautiful.

Gee and I made it to Seattle this past weekend for a girls’ night out. We hit this bar called Trinity and although it’s a really cool bar on the inside, with several rooms each with different DJs, and lovely decor, the clientele is … well it’s … it’s just that they’re … they … they’re very … they really like the physical contact. I attribute it to some sort of rainforest mating dance. You don’t really get that here in Vancouver. There’s more of an appreciation for one’s space. Don’t get me wrong though, had many of these men been ones that I’d want to get jiggy with I would have been in pure hormonal heaven, but sadly, this was not the case.

By the end of the night I had lost all patience which is unique for me because I’m usually guilty of talking to just about anyone about anything but instead got to the point where I would have none of anyone. I still had fun though. Believe it? I’d go back, probably. I should mention that while standing behind the velvet rope at the very start of the night, I managed to get Gee and I past both the VIP and the regular line as well as bypassing the $15 cover charge, just by asking the nice man in a suit how much cover was. And, it’s not like I was dressed like a little school girl either – actually maybe that was exactly why. Such chivalry at the door.

Note to the men of the rainforest. Personal space is the best compliment you can give a girl in a dark bar.

Also, I offer the following five tips:

- Do not surf the web for popular pick up lines any more
- Do not resort to pulling if your request to dance was rejected
- Do not touch
- Do take the hint
- Do not follow

To everyone I offer a warning of Copacabana Cafe in Pike Place Market, even if you’ve got that morning after, breakfast craving, don’t do it. Eggs only come scrambled. Bacon only comes microwaved over and over again. Remember the scene from Three Amigos when they’re sitting around the bonfire? “Batwings, Dusty?” That’s their bacon.

My Civic is dying. The mechanic today tells me he’s not sure how much time it has left. The clutch is nearing the end. I simply can’t quickly come up with the approx $800 it will cost to replace it so I will have to retire it when the time comes. This makes me a little sad. Did I mention I have a motorcycle? No, I don’t think I ever did. Well I do, so I’m mobile at least until the Fall. Winter, well, let’s hope white lightening makes it and if not, then I will go car-less like I’m obviously meant to.

Which reminds me, I hear you need a mechanic as one of your “must have” friends … does anyone know of a mechanic in Vancouver who’s looking for a new friend?

I think I will stop here because Nicole’s been patiently waiting for something … anything and I don’t have the heart to make her wait any longer.

First, it’s Master Blaster (Jammin’) – Stevie Wonder.
So jammin’…

Second, your supplemental photos:

Boat Cruise around Burrard Inlet:

Pretty city

The rooftop after party:

Brent’s Place:

From the back:

Front door:

Detail:

The inside:

Lights out, slow shutter.
Sexy.

Disco ball spins.

A three-hour border wait results in moments like…

Gum wrapper air plane.

Trinity:

Sundays | Summertime

This Sunday Jam’s right on schedule for once and perfect because it’s the Sundays singing Summertime.

O. o. Oooh. Mmmm. It is summertime. Like, full-swing summer times. I remember lamenting rain not too long go. What was that all about? I have so much to write about I’m not sure where to begin. In addition I am up past my bedtime but made the mistake of drinking a Coke about two hours ago and now it might as well be 10:AM. My mind’s telling me no, but my body.. my body’s telling me yes …

(that’s from Bump n’ Grind; I can’t make stuff like that up)

Shall I recap?

Gee and I boat trip to Sechelt for some RnR in June as seen here:

We were lying on the grass under the sun under blankets because the wind was brisk.

Gee disturbs my peace.

Then visits me under my blanket.

It’s like crabs in the bucket, but not really.

I found this to be one of the proudest wolf bust lamps I’ve ever seen.

Gee demonstrates “engrossed.”

If there was ever a Cutest Cemetery I’ve Ever Seen contest, this one would be my entry.

William’s in the photo holding their catch of the day, standing beside who he would have likely referred to as “a great catch.”

I’m kind of like, “Let me try engrossed now.”

My sweater won the Sweater of the Weekend award.

Once upon at time this was a floating Grocery Store, Pizza, Coffee Shop-type thing.

Grade 5 Chris came for Canada Day times. He lives in Arizona now but spent both Canada and Independence Day in Canada. I mean, obviously.

It was sometimes like we were in grade 5 again. But, that could have been my fault.

It’s hard to make a photo of this nature look genuine.

These guys were so easy-going.

Some pretty art along the sidewalk.

To Cathy, Chris is grade 3 Chris.

A really small W. Erskine Johnston Elementary School reunion.

I then went Jericho-ing with T.Mo and Keira.

© Keira

© Keira

© Keira

© Keira

So a week later, Hannes is in town from Mexico where he is studying Spanish while on an extended vacation from his home country of Switzerland.

Which now brings me to this past weekend. I had Kate’s puppy, Penny with me all weekend. The most precious Penny.

This morning I hauled Penny and all my purge-ables over to Cathy & Kyle’s in the hopes of making some cash at their multi-family yard sale. I sold nary a dollar, not even a quarter. But, I had fun and so did the dogs and the kids… and I was in the sun eating cookies, Cheezies, watermelon, and pink lemonade. Who needs money?

In Coquitlam dogs can actually float. It’s the neatest thing.

“The doggy licked my hand.”

Muffin loves how a half-off nightie makes her look like a flower.

Penny and Buddy demonstrate how to properly share a tennis ball.

My niece and my nephew whom I babysit.

Perfect Penny.

Claws on the inner arm feel so good.

So I’m kind of in the middle of these two dogs…

And after a hard morning of yard-sale’ing, Gee and I make for the beach. Kits this time.

While Gee read Barbara Wawa’s autobiography, I entertained myself with the latest GQ using a little treasure I found.

Baby crab-leg Imperial.

Baby crab-leg Pancho Villa.

Baby crab-leg Mono Brau.

Baby crab-leg Barrette.

Baby crab-leg Slip on Thumb Party Trick.

Please stop.

reading Craigslist Missed Connection ads.

yellow tulips.

animals. all of them.

crossword puzzles.

music. loud.

Prussian blue…


© Wikipedia

^ takes my breath away.

a crackling campfire. on a cool night.
and the smell of a hot tent.

still lakes.

ravens and crows.

the sound of crickets.

absolute silence.

hot pavement
seconds after the rain starts.

bob seger on a sunny day.

moments
exactly
like
this.

long drives without
destination.

the way suntan lotion skin smells
while lying on a beach
under a really hot sun.

words.

crooked teeth.

birch trees and oak trees.

planet earth.

piggybacks and arm wrestling.

the idea of Bora Bora.

© Tanehonu

the design of a chain-link fence.

Ooh, oopsie. My blog has taken a backseat to my living, breathing life. Actually it could have even been straggling behind my living, breathing life for a backseat would mean it’s still relatively close in thought but it really wasn’t.

At any rate, I’ve had a busy month or so and it’s funny because if I look back at one of my more recent posts, where I started doing that puzzle like a grandma, things were just plodding along then. Although I can tell you the exact moment life livened because it was when I finally finished that puzzle and realised I only had 499 of the 500 pieces. 99.8% of that damn puzzle was complete. It was such a crushing disappointment. I had been committing my evenings and early Saturday mornings to such a relaxing past time only to have it conclude on such a farcical and ass-chapping note. I swear I immediately got down on my stomach and slithered around every nook and cranny of my living room floor. It’s a good thing I live alone sometimes.

You’re probably picturing this harried, possessed, maniac writhing all over like a rabid ferret …

As a side note, don’t ever do this to your ferret. It’s weird.

But, let me explain… in many ways this would be considered maniacal behaviour. However, my mood never escalates to the point of complementing what my body is physically doing. So although it may look strange to the average person, I am actually very calm and purposeful in my mind. I probably get it from my mother. She once came home from a date to her water and smoke damaged home and her front tree smoking and crackling. She drove up and said, “Well I’m really happy now that I had such a nice date.”

I did go as far as cutting open my vacuum cleaner bag. There was enough cat hair in there to create a third and fourth cat and enough dust to create a bunny for them to play with. I found my favourite pen, some bobby pins, but no blasted puzzle piece.

I left that 99.8% complete puzzle sitting on my coffee table two weeks after that because I couldn’t bring myself to break it up and put it back in the box just in case by some miracle it turned up.

Kenny arrived at the end of the second week on Sunday. I still attended to my scheduled domestic responsibilities but this time had a helper. “Good. Reminds me of when we lived together; I’m glad I came.” He said in a not very nostalgic tone.

Kenny helped by using his big muscles to lift up my furniture while keeping his eye on Britain’s Peep Show he was streaming from the Internet. Lo and behold there was that cursed puzzle piece wedged under the far leg of my sofa! Only Kenny knows me well enough to accept that those tears in my eyes were confirmation of the level of absurdity I am capable of reaching and luckily he’s okay with that. I completed the puzzle and we tore it down about 5 minutes later.

So Kenny stayed for a week and we adventured around and lounged around. It was nice having him around. He left on a Friday and I flew home to Ottawa that Wednesday for a little four day jaunt. I just got back this past Monday night and I’m adjusting to simplicity, serenity, and autonomy again. I didn’t go through my usual withdrawals and feelings of vacancy that I get when I normally return from home. I think the reason I can feel that way is because of how surrounded I am with family and friends every single day that when I return to my apartment-for-one, on the other end of the country, life can all of the sudden seem overly still and eerily quiet. This time it didn’t feel like that which was fantastic. It might have helped that Vancouver’s weather has been so beautiful to welcome me. There is always something so redeeming about sunshine and a skyline that’s embossed with a luscious mountain range.

This trip home was nice because I caught up with two friends I haven’t seen in at least 7 years. One was actually a bouncer I met when I was an over-zealous teenager abusing my body by going out three nights a week and staying out until five o’clock in the morning. I was 18, underage, he was a bouncer. Sounds like a country song. So after we became grown ups there was no reason to see each other three times a week anymore. He went on to become a cop, I went on to … find myself, and here we are, still in touch after 15 years.

The other was a girl friend from 1st year college in the Advertising program. Neither of us were ready at the time to handle such an intense and immense workload let alone know if this was really what we wanted out of our lives so we didn’t return to second year. We remained friends but eventually relationships get in the way of frequency. She went on to get married and have babies, I … got disengaged and moved across the country that same year. I’ve watched her daughters grow on Facebook so it was wonderful to see her family in person.

I spent a lot of my time at home feeling guilty for having to tell people I couldn’t connect. I tried so hard but the days were just so short. On mother’s day I left so early in the morning to say bye to Chelsy and her family, then Shannon and her family, then lunch with my dad, then to reunite with my old classmate, that I didn’t even see my own mother until 6:30 that evening. Oi.

I suppose I’ll end this now. I’ve been typing it over this last day or so I don’t even know how fragmented it’s going to seem when I actually publish it. Perhaps I will distract and overwhelm you with some photos over the last couple of weeks now.

Oh and Frigs! worth mentioning:

Frigging Home Depot!
Frigging Vancouver Canucks!
Frigging Gulf of Mexico Oil Spill!
Frigging Landslide in Quebec!
Frigging Graham James!

Here’s your Sunday Jammin’ Song on a Thursday.

A young woman who died much too soon. I would have given anything to be around when she was.  Janis Joplin | To Love Somebody. If you’re going to click the link it’s worth reading the two highest-rated comments as well. Nailed.

My birsday dinner with  Keira and T-Mo.

Kenny and I discover Lynn Canyon.

A very long Seawall stroll.

Only at English Bay have I ever seen sunsets like this…

Home now. Family first.

My poor dad.. taken about fifteen minutes after he walked into his kitchen only to find me sitting at the table when I should have been in Vancouver. I’m such a trickster. His brows are still furled.

And then there was one. This was so much more majestic when my mom had four of these.

Aves had no idea I’d be there to greet her after school.

Cute.

My same-sex soul mate.

Time to play with their Auntie Andrea

Good-bye tea

Shaun wears his new, spiffy hat he bought at tarts n’ crafts.

F-ing disgusting

Have you ever considered upgrading yours?

This button is to give your shoes some sun

Oscar – my dad’s.

…especially when Katie’s back in Vancouver! Oh how I miss my Katie B. She’s only a province away but she used to be only ten minutes away. She’s from home and home out here feels good. Comfortable.

Man this weekend was busy for this hermit. I moved TMo with Keira, got my atrocious split ends dealt with and my hair enriched thanks to Marlee, a birthday party that ended at 2:30 in the morning, coffee early this morning, and Katie’s baby shower Vancouver-styles.

And the weather was beautiful.

Oh wait, well… SaturDAY was not beautiful. It was rainy. But, Saturday evening was balmy because the finished rain made it so. The city smelled pretty. Clean almost. Moist too. Good for my soul.

So I spent the weekend with my circles of dear friends experiencing a sense of renewal. New apartment, new year ahead, new life on the way. And, I just kind of cycled through it all floating around and watching everyone experience their moments of magic.

Tomorrow’s back to work, back to the people who need me and back to the business life of Andrea.

I’ve got a week’s vacation coming up next Sunday. Oh my it’s my birthday too. I will feel this newness but at the same time I reflect and wonder how the hell it got here this quickly. How is it that I’m going to be thirty-three years old already? I test myself at times and my memory still goes vividly back to three years old. Okay good; I hope that never changes.

I wish I could present more photos, but I only brought my camera along for Katie’s shower. So here they are…

But first here’s your Sunday Jammin’ Music song actually on a Sunday for the first time in a long time!

Click it for the beautiful song, the lyrics, and the beautiful video.

The Warped 45s – Radio Sky

Tried to get us with the tummy.

I thought this was a lovely and intricate tree.

This is Smokey, I found him to be very handsome.

Sorry for the delay, I’ve been dealing with the Olympics. Yes, the Olympics. They’re over now. Two days over and this city I call home is shrinking back down. Calming down. Coming down. I have no excuse to be out until the wee hours of the morning anymore and frankly I’m glad. I can go back to being the hermit I am deep down inside.

I’ve been challenged by the Universe again recently which came at a time when my energy levels were still very much thriving in the spirit of the city. There really wasn’t much energy to deal with one of the heaviest things I’ve ever had to deal with to this date. Someone I know left this earth very recently in a quick surrender to a life shrouded by inner turmoil, torment, and a deep sadness. It has been very upsetting to me in a way that is surprising me. It’s probably because I am such an emotional, deep, and sensitive person that I’m looking deeper into the reality than just accepting it for what it is. I think also what feels really strange for me is that when I look back at people who I’ve shared my life with, in love or in friendship, my memory of them comes along with the awareness that they are still around, I may even be seeing them tomorrow. It’s something you kind of take advantage of in that way. Remembering time spent with someone who is now gone under those circumstances feels like an incomplete thought process. It’s a different kind of memory.

You know when you’re driving? Or you’re reading, cleaning… whatever… and you have music playing in the background but you’re focused on the moment and you might snap out of it and realise you can’t even place what the last three songs were? That’s kind of what this feels like right now. I’m existing very much in the moment, going about my life… work, friends, responsibilities… but there’s this continuation of thought that’s running in the distance.

No matter who it was, I find myself most upset by knowing that someone’s life was so unbearable they had to rid themselves of it. Death is so permanent. So then imagine for a moment what that heaviness must be like. Imagine just not being able to pull yourself out. We all deal with our feelings in different ways. Some of us can ignore them, maybe dismiss or diminish them, cover them up with other emotions. Some of us just so consumed by them. Some of us are only limited to three or four basic emotions, where others have multi-dimensional ones that vary and fluctuate according to the situation. Some people feel their pain. Some people pretend it’s not there. Some people have no pain.

We really are such complex and fragile beings aren’t we?

 

In the midst of all this I had Franklin with me while his human parents were in Maui. While they were being evacuated from their hotel for tsunami safety, I’m coming home to new surprises of destruction including the box of baby food I had. Pablum and dog saliva seems to result in a glue-like residue that can really only be scraped off laminate flooring with hot water and a putty knife (sorry Sylvia, aw jeez). The pièce de résistance happened last night when Franklin tried to party with a skunk. Unfortunately, skunks don’t run away like squirrels and cats do, unfortunately still, when an animal presents a dog with their ass they will go nose deep. Luckily skunks will demonstrate a variety of self defense warning moves before actually bringing out the big guns, unlucky for Franklin he didn’t give a shit. 

I learned a new thing last night. Actual skunk spray doesn’t smell like the skunk spray aroma we often smell when we can’t see the skunk. Actual skunk spray, to me, smells like a mixture of burning rubber, sulphur and rotting flesh floating in a soup of gasoline, sour milk, and vom. Needless to say I was quite upset at this predicament for several reasons: a) It was 11:00 at night. Groomers are sleeping. Grocery stores are closed b) My soap products consist of things that smell fruity and pretty. My soap products don’t include ingredients powerful enough to deodorize a skunky dog c) Poor Franklin basically made it home face down, ass up. He literally pushed his face along the pavement alternating sides the entire way home. In as much as I’m fairly certain I wanted to punt him into tomorrow this was very difficult for me to watch. 

He eventually handed over control to yours truly and for the next hour or so he sat in my bathtub while I stayed by his soaking side rubbing various experimental, soapy scents all over his face and chest. I wiped the poor guy’s swollen eyes with a warm face cloth over and over again. He just looked so forlorn and pensive; like he kept living it over and over again in his mind.

In hindsight though we had a lot of fun together, like we always do. We took a two hour road trip up to Manning to spend the day at Randy’s getaway. We cuddled, played fetch, wrestled… (Oh, this is with Franklin by the way, not Randy). Franklin was a good distraction in a week where I really needed it.

Oh ya, Sherene and I finally made it out this past Sunday. She’s been here for a year working for Bell on the Olympic contract and we finally got in some good, honest play time. Too bad she’s leaving tomorrow. This makes me incredibly sad. We’ve been friends for 20 years and Sherene is like home to me so this is going to be a tough transition to not have her around anymore. 

Okay so, I guess that’s about it for the majors. I’m hoping life slows down a bit now. I’m ready to spend some quality time in the arms of my sofa and some good movies for the next little while.

An apropos tune for Sunday Jammin’ on Tuesday:

The Kinks – Better Things

Everything’s going to be okay. 

Check out that happy little guy in the back

Weeeee!

Eastgate Diner

That’s Dave in the back.

“Can we please trade benches soon? It’s cold being in the shade all the time.”

Party Time Begins

We did some posing that we thought was fit for a Sears catalogue

Granville’s still bumping at 1:00AM

Pwetty girl

Oh mmmm

Now’s the time for cool down. You know, you’re going to look at these photos and think we’re both plastered. I can’t speak for Sherene (ahem) but I wanted to make mention of this… The damn cover at that bar was $32! The coat check was $5! $37 dollars spent before I even set foot in the bar.

So this is me drunk on club soda and lime. Yes, the least they could do is give me free club soda. Gotta love Vancouver… and the Olympics in Vancouver.

Now you’re all: Okay wait, she’s not behaving this way because she’s drunk? She’s really weird.

Snuggles

Oops, careful

It’s been a busy week that felt long which is always the worst. The highlight of the week though was having someone’s blood dripping from their mouth onto my counter. Shortly thereafter I sent a love letter to Plexiglass inventor, Otto Röhm.

I experienced gastro euphoria for lunch on Thursday which could have very well redeemed my week because good food tends to fix everything. There are bright sides to working in the Downtown East Side and that’s being so close to Gastown. For my visiting readers from cities aplenty please forget not to experience Gastown if you’re in the neighbourhood. Then find The Black Frog and call me, damn it.

I overhauled my living room last weekend (which is really two weekends ago now, this has taken me that long to write). This will be my fifth arrangement since October 2007. I’m not sure how normal that is but normal doesn’t usually apply to me anyway so I’m not going to worry. 

I did acquire a new piece of furniture as well and that is a big, IKEA Billy shelving unit with glass doors that Gg handed down to yours truly. Ghetto me could never afford such a thing brand new so hookups are nice. Now that I think about it, this may have all started when I sold my IKEA Benno shelves on Craigslist. For approx 5 nights 140 DVDs and probably an equal amount of CDs were actually taking up space on my living room floor. If you know me then you know how devastating this disorganization was to me. At the same time, those who know me will also know that it makes perfect sense that I sell the shelves on a whim without any sort of plan regarding where the DVDs and CDs will go when the shelves are actually sold. I lament the disorganization I bring upon myself. Go figure.

So to recover from this not-very-well-thought-out situation that was my living room, I reorganized, shuffled, and rearranged my furniture just to prove something to myself. As a side note, I never feel wholeheartedly lonely because I seem to be perpetually in a state of autonomous interaction with my conflicting personality idiosyncrasies. In this case it was the impractical visionary vs the disciplinary and the end result, fittingly, was a living room I love and one that so far Cathy and Gg are not so fond of. It only makes perfect sense.

What do you make of it:

Here’s why I like it:

1. Previously my computer was against the wall behind where it is now. I faced … the wall. Again, for those who know me, they know I can’t face walls – especially in restaurants – and while also sitting at my computer desk. It’s not claustrophobia, it’s neurosis. 

2. I like feeling cozy and workstations are sometimes hard to make cozy. But tell me you wouldn’t curl up into a ball right on top of my desk now and fall asleep there.

3) I spend most of my reading, scheming, escaping, daydreaming, and playing crossword puzzles on that there sofa. There’s something very tranquil about lying down on it and having those wide open windows in front of me. Previously they were behind me and what kind of purpose does that serve? None other than to make me wonder what’s going on in the world. Pointless; I need to know everything at all times.

4) Other than three glasses of red wine, Gravol, or Coronation Street, there is not much else that turns my mind off other than flames from a fire with a flavouring of José Feliciano from the vinyl.

Oh come on, you appreciate the effect and secretly wish you were sitting in my living room too.

5) The wall that now stands to support my books, DVDs, and CDs is the only wall long enough to keep them together as a family. 

And with that I will not justify my logic any longer. You will either enjoy it, dislike it, or not really give a shit either way so there really isn’t much more to discuss. 

I’ve now been composing this post for two weeks and four days. My new year’s resolution really should have been to finish my blog posts in a reasonable time frame…

Last weekend Mandy bunny and I made a fairly spontaneous plan to go to Whistler. The last time I was there they had the peak express lift closed because it was miserable and torrential. But this time, although it wasn’t a clear day, the snow conditions were probably the best I’ve skied in my 22 years of skiing. It was abundant and frigging fast and this is perfection to me.

In the words of whistlerblackcomb.com: “Whistler’s Peak Express offers some of the planet’s most rugged high alpine.” Now tell me that doesn’t send a shiver down your spine in all the right ways. We reached the peak and were submerged in heavy clouds. It was blustery and dark making the ground impossible to decipher from the atmosphere. I’d be lying if I said we weren’t scared shitless and that’s simply because when you’re on a sharp decline and you can’t see even ten feet ahead of you, you’re pulling guts from areas other than the pit of your stomach. In fact we were stealing guts from each other. We swore the whole way down to the first ridge and upon survival we masochistically wanted to do it all over again just for the thrill of it.

Isn’t Mandy the cutest thing?

On one of our lift rides we started talking about what the hills in Ottawa were like. Myself, I learned to ski at Edelweiss in Gatineau. We thought of all our favourite hills and how sadly they pale in comparison to what we are so lucky to have here. Just to put it into perspective, I did some quick calculations and came up with this very roughly scaled example of how Edelweiss might compare to Whistler. Technically speaking, Whistler has a top elevation of 2,182 metres compared to Edelweiss’s 350 metres. 

I mean, check out this vista:

Whistler © Andrea C.

Oh, am I bragging? Sorryyy.

What else is new…

Oh yes, here’s the car that’s going to replace my Ford Fo’ once my lease is up. Thirteen more days to go, by the way, and my last car payment comes out. Then I will be car-payment free. Free! Fr.EE! F|r|e|E! f:r/EE!

Cute isn’t it? Rando found me this little gem and I couldn’t be happier. I introduce you to my 1991 Civic Si.

Okay I will leave you with some Sunday Jammin’ Music on… yes, Thursday. This one’s solid for jammin’. Thievery Corporation – Un Simple Histoire

Please also enjoy with me this incredibly sexy photo of Johnny Depp.

Once again I have become completely consumed by nothing at all and have been periodically beginning a post only to run out of steam and leave it hanging amongst the continuously growing list of draft posts I’ve accumulated over these last two weeks.

It is not for lack of trying. You should see some of the things I’ve started out with. They had all the makings of some kind of revelation (something that happens to me at least once a week) and there I go, fingertips to keys, I type. Type. TYPE. Clickety, tickety type … Here we go… yes, yes, yes! … It’s working, the thoughts are coming … ooh these are good. But then my mind begins to wander, my fingers slow down and ADD (Andrea’s Design Deficit) takes hold.

I get hungry, or decide I want to exfoliate my face, do a mask, soak my hair in avocado oil, paint, paint my nails, brush the cats, clip their nails, tickle their tummies, dust, listen to records, do my dishes, clean my cupboards, play Nintendo, take a nap, scrub the walls of the litter box (that’s when I’m feeling particularly energetic), tidy up my MSN contact lists, purge some Facebook friends, think, daydream, fantasize, read, learn, think again, over-think, map out my life, pick my next travel destinations, self-actualise, -reflect, -analyse, -deprecate, love myself, hate myself, resign myself to my self, take a shower, make a list. (Reprise) Then, before I know it, it’s 10:PM and my half-finished blog post is still lingering on my monitor leaving me feeling unfulfilled, disappointed, and mad at myself that I did it again. I may attempt one or two sentences for good measure, hate where they’re going, and as a last ditch effort I’ll try to channel the exuberance I experienced earlier. However, it usually concludes with me opening up Bouncing Balls in Facebook, and then I go to bed.

Anyway, in a life’s nutshell, since my last successful post, I received my transfer request to start working in one of the downtown east side offices. For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with the DTES, I encourage you to visit the above link. This area of Vancouver is aka “Canada’s poorest postal code.” It’s the truth, bang on. And, it fascinates me in the most sincere, genuine, empathetic, compassionate, and heartfelt way I could ever express.

This area struggles in so many ways and does seem like there is no relief. In many ways there really isn’t. The struggle is consuming. So I’m here now experiencing at least a duplication of destitution from what I experienced at my old office. Some people, when I tell them I actually requested this transfer, will say I don’t know how you do it. My parents will say, Oh, just be careful, Andrea. I mean, in many ways they’re valid concerns. This place isn’t for everyone. But, for me, it’s full of damage, and for those who know me well, they know I love people’s damage.

I wonder about why it appeals to me so much and I believe a lot of it has to do with the fact that in the DTES, as an example, you will come across real people. Their afflictions are there for the world to see. Denying them to save face it is no longer a concern. They can be inappropriate, yes. Addicted, mentally ill, lost souls, and are in perpetual survival mode – survival is all they live for. It can be vulgar down there, yes. But it’s still real, there is no facade. Real as a state of being is very comfortable for me to be around. It’s the philosophy I live my life by, only with equanimity. There’s also something about helping someone find a roof over their head, give them some food, give them some hope, some warmth, just an ounce of understanding, respect, and comfort. The DTES is so rich with community resources too, I mean there is support for every possible social circumstance you can find yourself in. Starvation, addiction, fear, violence. You name it.

The DTES community resources are almost as saturated with support as the area is saturated with devastation so there is a good balance. Remember the industrious Doozers who lived under Fraggle Rock? They were constantly working but never really seemed to focus on what the heck they were constructing and why they were even doing it. They just did it because it seemed to need to be done. That’s almost what the DTES is like.

Pull up a chair, Andrea goes into the deep end…

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I identify my own damage on a regular basis. I don’t hide from it. I might wish some of it away, or may resent experiencing some things, but, at the same time, I’ve found that there’s nothing more cleansing than understanding what your damage is and meeting it at face value rather than convincing yourself it’s not a part of who you truly are. In doing this, I find it gives me better perspective into someone else’s life. When you know what hurts you, and you acknowledge it, you have a good idea of what’s going to hurt someone else. Then you make many friends that last a lifetime. You become the person who just “gets it” and I don’t care who you are, we all want that in the people we meet along the way.

Yea..

So things are going well at the new office overall. I was caught last week picking up the sticky insect traps around the office to see what goodies were inside. This may or may not have included going under some unoccupied desks. See, bed bugs are an issue in the DTES and I’ve never actually seen one so the sole purpose of my investigation was to find one stuck in there that I could see for real. Don’t you pick up sticky bug traps in your office to see what’s inside? What? That’s not normal behaviour for a thirty-two year old?

What else did I get up to…?

Oh yes, I finally finished painting my living room. It took me three weeks to complete and even still I’m not entirely finished painting the frame around my front door but on the whole the walls, trim, all six window casements and baseboards are finished. 1/3 of the door frame is complete. Perhaps I’ll finish the rest tonight.

Doubt it though.

On Friday night I vowed to my body and soul that we would do nothing together. The hour struck 9:00 and I turned off all the lights, put on my Beatles’ Love Songs album set, put on the fireplace and mentally escaped while staring at the ceiling from my sofa. If you’ve never done such a thing, I highly recommend it.

At any rate Let it be came on with a little crackle and as one of my favourite Beatles songs played I started to really concentrate on what that song meant to me and actually came up with a new tattoo idea. Of the three, but technically four, that I have, this would really be the only one that would actually be something I truly believe in. I have one, but technically two, on my left foot that translate into “Happiness” and “Truth” from Chinese (to the best of my knowledge) and I got those when I turned seventeen because my first real boyfriend made out with some other girl on a beach one night. That was how I dealt with the heartache. – Might as well tattoo my passive-aggressiveness on my own foot.

Now, when people ask, I just tell them it means Merry Christmas.

My mom will find out I’m getting a new tattoo from reading my blog. Hi muzzy. Reminds me of the really bizarre time I was actually coming back from my technically first tattoo on my foot and my mom was surprisingly driving right behind the OC Transpo bus. She spotted me, my face pressed against the back window of the bus and mouthed the words Did you get it? With the kind of look on her face that screamed I fucking hope not! I gave her a thumbs up with a really innocent look on my face that said Please don’t hurt me. All was well.

Okay so… blogging … new office … painting … tattoos. There’s got to be something else…

I might just very well be lapsing into that state again so I best get this published before it gets thrown into the pile of drafts that I will never get back to and eventually delete in a moment of housekeeping my blog.

Nicole, that one was for you okay? It’s my wedding gift to you.

 

Haven’t jammed in a while? Me either… let’s jam.

Neil Young – Unknown Legend.

I think this is such a beautiful song. I want someone to play it for me some day.

Someone… anyone?

 

The Wednesday night before my Thursday flight I awoke at precisely 2:07 AM to the sound of a car alarm. At roughly 2:07:51 AM the lady in my digital answering machine spoke up and said to the darkness: “Please record your message.” I heard a click and my alarm clock went black. Another click seconds later and the numbers appear again only this time they flash 12:00. 12:00. 12:00. 

I witnessed a two-second power outage. Why is this so significant? Well… if the car alarm had not woken me up, I would have never experienced the power outage, I would have never experienced my alarm clock resetting, and most likely would not have woken up on time. So from about 2:09 AM on I tossed and turned trying to reassure myself that this was not a warning to not board my flight. That it wasn’t the Universe’s way of telling me to not fly. It wasn’t the Universe’s way of trying to make sure I sleep through my wake up time.

I boarded the next morning anyway, said a little prayer to whoever/whatever was controlling the Universal events of that day, checked the wing beneath me for cracks or loose screws, and entered the atmosphere with a roar and Margot at my feet. The Green Mile, some cute Canadian short films, and several crossword puzzles later I was in Ottawa at the baggage claim sending Kenny some exhausted “Where are you?” text message which really meant that I was kind of bummed that I didn’t see a familiar face waiting to greet me. I’m such a sucky suck. He was there though, just outside, and frankly didn’t notice me until I was 10 feet away from him and then he smiled and mentioned something about me being a bag lady, then hoisted my goods into his trunk.

Day One, Thursday, I had dinner at The Works with Kenny not too long after landing and getting Margs all settled at my mom’s. Not even three hours after this I found myself in bed, barely coherent by 8:30 PM EST, which in actuality was 5:30 PM for me. Justified? Ya, probably. Although it could also have been the concoction of anti-histamines, decongestants, and Gravol I ingested in the first leg of my trip as well.

Friday morning was visit with my dad, pick up my Czech citizenship, take photo for my Czech passport, drive to Belleville day. I skipped over to my dad’s really early in the morning (okay, it was 9:00 AM) where the two of us enjoyed a quick little breakfast, some coffee, catching up, and five or six rough copies of what he was going to write in my brother and his wife-to-be’s wedding card. 

I was less than pleased with my passport photo. My first inclination that this was going to be a photographic disaster was that the “passport photo room” is a stark white closet with two bright, white, fluro lights running vertically along each side of your face mounted to each corner at the front to my left and my right. A lighting nightmare. This set-up ensures that there is no dimension to anyone’s face because it literally blanches out curves and contours. So my face might as well have been this oval, flat, glowing thing with two eyes plugged into it. Thankfully my photographer enabled my perfectionist, anal-retentive, self-deprecating, never-happy-with-anything-personality (which only comes out as a package 17% of the time, for the record) by snapping four photos of myself which, okay, okay, looked exactly the same every single time. My face was captured almost exactly like this. In fact, I’m quite proud of myself for how accurately this turned out:

Thankfully, I was distracted from my disgust and sheer embarrassment of my passport photo by the nifty fingerprint device that was next on the list of things to do in the passport process. The Czech passports are so hi-tech.

As a side note, sometimes I feel lucky that I deal with strangers who are tolerant of just how questionable I can be sometimes. Although, I will also admit that my discretion does play a part. Not everyone is privy to such sides of me. There is a screening process within the first minute of our interaction. 

Where was I?

Yes. Just before leaving I asked the Czech consulate, who by this time must have just wanted me the hell out of there, if I could take with me a poster commemorating the Czech Republic’s regional integration into the European Union which he graciously gave me; which I might add, is still sitting in the kitchen at my mom’s to this date. At least I hope it is. Muzzy? In the end I think I made up for it by putting the háček ( ˇ ) over the wrong letter when printing my last name in Czech. I think he got a good čuckle out of it at my expense, so it was the least I could do.

That afternoon my Auntie Carol and I made the trek to Prince Edward County, the hub of wedding events that weekend. One big bag of chips each, a coffee, a bottle of water, and two hundred (not mine) cigarettes later we had arrived at this most pristine and glorious five bedroom, five bath cottage my family had rented for the weekend that overlooks Lake Ontario called Wellington Place.

I have to tell you, it felt so good to be around my family again. And, so many of them under one roof. That’s one thing I can miss about being so far away from home; the accessibility of my family. I imagine it was especially fun for my dad who was a) the only male for the first 24 hours and b) surrounded by his ex-wife’s/mother of his children’s family. Everything was synchronised perfectly, though. See, there’s history there and it was nice to see everyone catching up on old times. It was comfortable. My parents were comfortable. Everyone still gets a kick out of my dad’s hilarity which was unique to observe. He’s as welcome now as he probably would have been when my parents were still together. So that was nice.

Saturday was wedding day. We all eased into the morning having coffee on the patio over the water. Eventually my mom, auntie Diane, and I went for a successfully under-skilled canoe ride before the rest of the cottage dwellers arrived. It had been ages since I was out in a canoe slicing into the stillness of Lake Ontario. And, like the good Brownies we all once were, we even sang Land of the Silver Birch to keep our strokes in sync. 

My best-friend, soul mate in our next life, and date for the wedding, Shannon arrived with my cousin, Andrea (yep, Andrea), Andrea’s boyfriend, and family friend Mary. And, at that moment it felt like a day for a wedding. 

The wedding was under an apple tree. The day was perfect. The sky was blue. The venue shared the same property as the apple tree which was great. After the ceremony there was a table set up with a rickety sign hanging off the railing behind that said “Scotch n’ Cigars.”  This is where the fun really kicked up a notch.

We filed into the hall shortly after all the photos to eat one of the best wedding dinners I’ve ever had. The entire meal was made up of local and organic food and was scrumptious and familiar in that kind of family dinner way. Two of the dishes were actually family recipes on Heidi’s side that the chefs cooked up.

I should rewind a little bit. Just before the dinner, as with most weddings, the parents, wedding party, and bride and groom are introduced. First duo out were Heidi’s parents. The music blasted and out they came shaking their booties. I sat at my seat, clapping and cheering, and I realised at that moment that there was a very good possibility my parents were instructed to come out doing the same thing. I thought to myself Noooo, they would never and out they shimmied. I was stunned. My mom had this kind of dance/clap/side-step thing going on, while my dad did the off-beat hip shuffle and threw up his arms on every opposite beat. It was the most fantastic thing I think I’ve ever seen in my life and I remember at that moment I reached some form of euphoria as my heart heaved with the kind of unobstructed elation toward everything around me and my existence at that moment in time. 

Shannon and I were feeling it drunk by the time the dance floor opened up. People were high, happy, and energized from either alcohol, the vibe, or most likely both. My auntie Cecilia, into her 80s, nodded off at the table sitting up with a very peaceful smile on her face. Her eyebrows were even arched, frozen at the moment she probably tried to open her eyelids and fell asleep milliseconds thereafter. She is notorious for that and it makes me want to pinch her cheeks.

Like this in a way:

I spent most of the dinner observing the room and watching my brother kiss his new bride on the temple or back of her hand every so often. I did this primarily because I was due up for a speech/toast and had decided that morning that I was just going to wing it. So I found myself getting lost in my little brother, who was now someone’s husband and thinking back to how much fun we had as kids. I had the feeling of missing it in a way but this thought process gave me some good material and my toast came out easily except for the part when I referred to my brother’s wife by his ex-girlfriend’s name.

Just kidds! I’m so funny.

My brother gave a really adorable speech which I know he was really nervous about. He is so intelligent and expressive but he can also be very quiet and humble. He really amazed me when he admitted he lost the first two pages of his speech too. Seeing the two of them up at the podium together, expressing their love for each other and their friends and family was surreal and very happy. They both said some really lovely things and it felt incredible seeing them each have such an appreciation for each other as people. Which I feel is important. You can get caught up sometimes in the grandeur of marriage but as long as you can “get” the other person, even the aspects of them that are ingrained and will chap your ass until the day you leave this earth, if you can handle that too, then I believe you’re fine. They seem to understand that about each other which is nice to behold.

After the speeches, every age group hit the dance floor hard as is usually the way early on. Eventually though most people were winding down at the back of the room talking quietly, filing out, or standing outside to cool off. Shannon and I were the stalwarts among a few other second-winders. Shannon even turned down the first trip back to the cottage with those whose regular bedtime had long passed. “No ffffugging wayyyyy Lorraine, we’re going to party all niiiight!” She exclaimed to my mom (at least I think those were the words her tongue was trying to get around). It was funny 35 minutes later when she closed her eyes while sitting up and breathed into my shoulder something along the lines of “I’m just going to go lie down outside okay?” Fifteen minutes after that my dad came back to the reception to pick us up, just like after a Grade 8 dance. 

We got our second wind after we got out of our big-girl clothes and transformed into fleece pajama bottoms and hooded sweatshirts and crawled into the king-sized bed laughing and talking until Shannon fell asleep mid-sentence. I haven’t had a sleepover in years. Especially with my little Shannon.

And with that the wedding had come to an end. The next day we’d be heading home. Shannon back to her kiddies and Ben, and me back to my mom’s to spend the next three days catching up with all my old friends.

So, I’ll end this post and will continue the rest of my trip in the next couple of days. Here are the photos for the people I know will be anxiously waiting for Andrea’s Crazy Ones. I mean, you have a professional photographer when you need to look normal. But for the times when you’re not normal, that’s what I’m for.

Wellington Place:

This is Riki, my brother and Heidi’s puppy.

But if you crop the photo like this, doesn’t he look like a bearded, scruffy man?

At the dinner rehearsal:

Moi et Auntie Diane.

Wedding Day:

(Auntie Cecilia on left, my nana on right)

Like, is my brother handsome or what?

After the ceremony:

Shannon and I may or may not have stolen a cupcake before it was cake time. But that was only after a little boy did first.

In my opinion, everyone needs an Auntie Carol…

Dancing Queen:

It got a little raucous from this point on:

“I love youuuuu.”

Sleepy time. But first…

Shannon would look at this photo and say: “Oh my God, hammerrrred.”

“Lemme try your glasses on!” “Okay yeaaaa Andreaaa!”

The End.

Of Part I.

… Just take it from me. Me who has a blistery burn on her rib cage. Me who slept through that? 

I had a nice weekend, how was yours? Mine was up in the air pretty well throughout but everything fell nicely into place and surprisingly nana doesn’t feel overwhelmed or tired come Sunday night. I must admit though that I think subconsciously (or it could be conscious) I can handle busy weekends and late Sunday nights when the following Monday happens to be my flex day. 

So Margot is still with me. Her owner was in Kamloops this weekend with his horse and was delayed a day. He should be coming by tomorrow. In the meantime I’m trying to keep her entertained so she doesn’t think about jumping out my bedroom window in the middle of the night only to jump back in with another little mouse for her to play with. 

I will miss her though, a lot.

So what did I do … ?

Oh ya, Friday I worked, came home, rescued field mouse #2, then met up with Gee to catch a late night GI Joe. I walked out of there thinking Awesome, another action movie directed at men only where the women serve no purpose except to wear tight, rubbery jumpsuits and have their cliche cleavage hanging out the entire time. I also decided I miss movies like Aliens, La Femme Nikita, and GI Jane. I mean, I don’t mind the mamms, it’s just can they not be attached to a woman with some grace and class? To me, that is so sexy I could even …

But I won’t.

Maybe.

No.

Saturday I SkyTrained down to Sherene’s place where we hung out and covered the widest range of topics I’ve ever had in one sitting. I’m talking everything from private parts to split ends. In between we discussed sex, men, STDs, cheating, personality disorders, getting high, elementary school, and our jobs. We also took a stroll over to Pacific Centre and visited Sephora and H&M. 

Saturday night Gee and I met up to hit the country bars. I’m no country girl but I really must admit that there is nothing like spending time in a bar where no one gives a shit about anything except having fun and not giving a shit. There is no pretentiousness, no attitude, no sugar babies, or their parents. I find it incredibly refreshing actually. You don’t have to like country music either because you don’t even notice that you don’t like it. 

Today I met up with T.Mo for brunch at Cafe Crepe then walked around Gastown so she could find a gift for someone. The streets through Gastown were closed too for the annual motorcycle Show n’ Shine event which was pretty radical.

Yep, radical.

Later tonight I found myself at Cathy and Kyle’s with Gee to keep Kyle company while Cathy was away. We forced him to take photos with us in the middle of gorging on Sour Cream & Onion chips and sour jellies while watching The Soloist.

Have you seen?

It’s alright.

Now I’m home wrapping up this post while the Sunday Jammin’ Music song is playing in the background and my toes are tappin’. This one’s a goodie if I do say so myself. I call this sophisticated soul music and it’s got that perfect, jammin’ rhythm.

Coming to you straight out of 1986 – Gregory Abbott’s debut album with this title song going platinum. It doesn’t hurt that he was most babelicious and was featured as one of the ten sexiest male recording artists in Playgirl.

To Do:
Find Playgirl with Gregory Abbott 

Robert Christgau, writer for New York’s Village Voice had put it best:

 

Now number one pop, “Shake You Down” is a deceptively slight slow burn, a come-on so unassuming that you don’t notice you’re being seduced until after you’ve slipped into something more comfortable.

Meow

Shake You Down

Quelques photos du week-end: