* this post started on Tuesday, December 28th.

I’m 37,000 feet above ground right now in an Airbus 333. As per the interior specifications card, there are 51 rows of seating on this plane; 37 seats in first class, 228 in economy – where I sit in the 42nd row; the seating arrangement is 2-4-2 in econ. I am part of the four grouping, but at the aisle, and the person in front of me doesn’t seem to want to recline which I am thoroughly enjoying because my tray table is down. My seat isn’t reclined either. The sky is dark because it’s about 7:30 PM EST. I never thought this until now, but it’s odd writing “the sky” while I’m actually flying up in it. If I refer to the sky, it’s usually as something I look up at, not out at. You know? Anyway… I’m on my way back to Vancouver from spending Christmas in Ottawa. This jaunt was a big deal for me because the last time I saw my family and friends at Christmas was 2006. I spent Christmas with them for 30 years before I moved, so to lose that makes holidays in Vancouver a little bittersweet. Curse all airlines for making Christmas-season flights upwards of $900. This year though, I must have been a really good girl because Santas (uncle Mark, Mum, Dad, Nana) got me a flight home collectively.

Shanny, my same-sex soul mate:

Is my nana a beauty, or what?

Shan’s little Noah

Averyyy

Self-timed family photo:

Chelsy and Riley-girl

Katie and Dylan baybee

Nom nom nom

Heeee

Miss this spot:

Check out Oscar at the NAC:

Miss the Parkway a lot:

Shoppingtimes with Kokomo:

I call this a ‘Yuck.’ It’s a Yam Duck!

Chez my brother and wife:

An aunt sandwiched between a niece and a nephew:

Sister and brother with cousin in order by height:

Mama:

It’s my Harley-inspired dad:

So, about this flight I’m on: Right now I am in an ideal position considering I’m 42 rows away from the front exit which means that disembarking is going to take a while but, I’ve got leg and laptop room and my crossword puzzles. It’s almost the best of all possible economy situations (where first class would mean fully reclining and having a nice, soft blankie, and my own little pod to sleep in) … except for the woman at the opposite end of my quad row. Between us is a young couple. I’ve got the girlfriend beside me and I’m pretty sure she drugged herself because she was literally asleep before the plane even left the ground. She’s got her boyfriend’s jacket draped over her and he tucks it in on the sides for her every time she shifts. They’re really sweet. Now, as for this woman at the end, she might also have drugged herself but I’m wondering if maybe hers were amphetamines? She’s watching something funny because every few minutes or so her shrill cackle breaks the silence and she rushes her body forward a bit, then bounces back and her gold bracelets collide with each other.

The problem with it being every few minutes is that I have just enough time to come down from being startled out of my pants only to have it re-occur. Cackle. Lunge. Crash. Clink clink clink. It feels like torture actually. It’s worse that the plane is dark because darkness makes people quieter, darkness is usually associated with rest, sleeping, whispers, nighttime.

With each obnoxious assault on my peace, I look over at her. But, she is not giving me the satisfaction of returning my eye contact so I can’t suggest she quiet down with my glare and hope that she snaps out of it. I’m not getting that satisfaction! It’s so startling that the young woman beside me actually jolts a bit in her sleep each time; like a cat.

It just happened again, this time I looked at the woman beside me, who looked at her boyfriend, who looked at me, then back at his girlfriend, then we all turned to the laughing woman who never looked at us. We all had a silent, telepathic, group commiseration and I do feel a bit better. Yes, we are being very passive aggressive in our approach right now and we have her on our hyper-radars. The girl friend is totally awake and she’s tense; I can feel it coming off her. The problem is none of us want to be the one to tell the woman. How do you tell someone who’s in the throes of laughter to clam it?

So now my mind wanders … Does she know we’re looking over at her and couldn’t care less? Maybe she’s developed a waking unconsciousness toward anything that goes on around her. Maybe she’s the type of person when even if someone did point it out to her, she’d just cackle it off and put her headphones back on. She’s failing on many levels and is a bad, bad, terrible person.

But look at her … laughing away so carefree. It is likely that no one will say anything. Maybe we’ll turn the volume up on our own headsets now. Or we’ll all just daydream her away. She’ll get off the plane, reminisce over the hilarious show she just watched, and how nice the flight was. Then she’ll board a plane again in the future, do the same thing, no one will tell her, and she’ll have wonderful happy airplane memories. The End.

I am admitedly very choked to the point of downright internal bitchiness which I am not proud of. The problem is I am a creature who functions best when my environment is set to levels Harmony and Tranquility. Shrill, spontaneous, loud noises actually rattle me both mentally and physically. It’s like I have shell shock only I don’t ever recall being surrounded by gunfire or any kind of cacophonies of the sort.

The thing is, this is just one of her isms. I mean, she can’t be purposefully scraping a rusty ice pick along the sensitive auditory canals of my ears. Her cackle just doesn’t work well with my own loud, spontaneous noise disorder.

Okay wait, it is also that if I do say something, she may respond less than agreeably to my suggestion then over-exaggerate her laughter because who the hell is this bitch telling me to laugh quieter? So, because I’m 37,000 feet in the air, trapped in a steel tube with no where else to go and I have no idea what kind of personality this woman has I’m going to have to ultimately let it be.

But man, do I ever wish her show would hurry up and end.

I’m going to go for a plane aisle walk. brb.

…

…

I just had a really interesting conversation with an 8″ tall man. Okay, maybe he was more like 6’4″ but when you’re 5’4″ it’s easy to misgauge. We met in the aisle toward the back where the flight attendants hang. It’s also where the bathroom is and what he was waiting for. I asked him what it’s like sitting in a plane being so long. Yes, I said long, yes I thought about it after it left my lips, but he handled it well and told me the key is the emergency exit row. Of course! Then he told me I was probably small enough to stretch out in the overhead compartments.

Phew, that walk really did me in. The Gravol and decongestant I took have kicked in now and I think I need to close my laptop and try to have a little snoozy-poo. I have no idea when I’ll go back to this post again because it will be around 9:30 PM PST by the time I get home which will feel like 12:30 AM EST so I certainly won’t be returning to this today in either PST or EST. So, I’m going to say good bye for now.

It’s the early evening of Saturday, January 15th. I went skiing with Mandy today. My skis were recently waxed and sharpened and were just incredible. The weather itself wasn’t very nice as dark clouds did loom over head and it eventually started to rain but the snow on the trails was so fluffy and fast. We found a couple treed runs that ran along the main drag, and had not been touched, so it felt like our own little side of the mountain.

Speaking of tree trails, I learned a new term today: Tree wells. Falling into a deep one means you have a mere 10% survival rate, on average.

© stevenspass.com

Basically, if you’re in an area where the trees are tall and the boughs rest upon the snow, then chances are there is a void of loose snow that surrounds the section of the tree trunk that is beneath the boughs. So, if you ski too close to the trees, or you lose control and hit one, you can fall into a tree well. Often it is the depth of the fall that will result in limbs being injured which contributes to the decrease in survival and  it can apparently be as quick as drowning to suffocate to death. There were two experiments conducted in the US and Canada where volunteers were placed in a tree well and 90% could not rescue themselves. This death is called Non-Avalanche Related Snow Immersion Death, or NARSID.

© dodgeridge.com

So ya, watch out for those whether snowmobiling, snowshoeing, skiing, walking, etc. Stay away from the boughs of the trees. Don’t let me catch you stuck in one or I’ll be really upset!

Okay, taking a T.O. right now, need to stretch my body before it seizes from skiing.

It’s Monday. I’m at work. My morning has been spent forcing emails upon someone who I’m fighting tooth and nail with over purchasing the skis he’s been saying he wants to purchase for the last three years. EBay link after EBay link, screaming deal after screaming deal, and nothing. I had to draw this release the frustration:

 

 

 

It’s Sunday and I just finished eating this steak-like dinner. It refer to it as steak-like because its original composition was a juicy, t-bone cut, however, after forgetting about it in the oven it came out like something closer to what a Birkenstock marinated in Lea & Perrins would taste like – Chewy but flavourful. Plus, it’s red meat and a good lady needs red meat at certain times.

This day has gone by quite lackadaisically. Had brunch at T.Mo’s place this mornternoon (thank-you T.Mo) and was sprightly with her on the backyard trampoline while we talked about various meandering thoughts out loud.

When finished, I head home with big plans for nothing to do in my head. It was the most fantastic thing. First thing I did upon arrival was sit in the middle of my sofa, feet on coffee table and just stare at my black television. I sat there for a while waiting to see if perhaps an idea would come to mind. Which it didn’t – not at that time. So I made my way into my bedroom; a place where I catch my deepest breaths. It’s quite a charming place. I stripped down and lay down; my sheets had this kind of cool, creamy feeling that put me to sleep almost instantly. An afternoon nap had commenced on account of not having anything to do.

I awoke at precisely 4:20 and didn’t get high, but I did lay still for a while. I could hear Marshall & Otis stirring outside the door and someone outside was ringing clothes in from a squeaky line. I began to visualize my living room for some reason and eventually narrowed it down to an image of my dining-room table (which in actual fact is a computer table, that I use for neither dining, nor computing) and my collection of unfinished canvas ideas. One in particular came to light as clear as if I were right in front of my easel and it looked complete. I took this to mean I needed to paint this afternoon and wandered into my living room to do just that.

As a tangential side-note – I find a lot of my impediments to completing these paintings stem from a dislike of the actual set-up, then tear-down of my art space. I would love to be good and focused enough to complete a painting in say, four sessions; but it’s never the way with me. I have a HUGE fear of screwing up that I think I’ve actually convinced myself that if I stop the painting the moment I fall in love with it then I leave no opportunity to bungle it up. I leave it where I love it and omit the chance of hating it. Then, this business of complaining about the set-up and tear-down is really just complementary to the hardship I cause myself by fearing artistic failure. It’s so funny that I do this because I don’t fixate on such things in any other aspect of my life. I very much just do.

People see my paintings and say, “Forget about failing, just finish them.” My reply is usually non-verbal and I just stare at whichever one we’re discussing until the silence explains everything and we move on to something else. The truth is just that… I really don’t know how to answer why.

Today I began painting books into a bookshelf. I cleared my head and just painted them. I let go of the pressure of perfection I put on myself and just painted. I’m going to take a photo and post it now – so I have a bit of accountability to the painting. I appoint my readers to hold me accountable to just finishing this. Okay? We work together.

Before today this painting was sitting this very way, sans books, for approx eight months. Eight months! Today I’ve accomplished nine roughed-in books. Maybe tomorrow I’ll finish the first shelf with rough books. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

Painting brought me pretty well up to the moment I decided I wanted to eat my steak. Yes, if you do the math it took me about three hours to paint nine books. That’s three books an hour, twenty minutes a book. I suppose that’s okay for me as I only have my own progress to compare to. I may finish the rest of the shelf more efficiently now that I got the pages going the right way. The perspective was really off at first – thankfully oil paints are so forgiving. My steak cooked while I scrubbed my brushes, then I noticed a smell and realised I had been scrubbing for far too long and opened the oven only to be cloaked in over-cooked steak smoke. I nearly sprained a jaw eating much of my dinner but the fatty edging tasted so crispy and delectable. I completed the evening doing 60 sit-ups on my living room floor and here I am about to finish the sentence my post title started with.

… is how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya.

Think about it.

It’s a lyric from k.d. lang’s version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. The original misses out on some brilliance that k.d.’s touched this song with. I’ve posted the link on my Facebook but will share it, with another song right now.

Some triv pour vous: This version is from the 2005 Junos in Winnipeg. This particular performance garnered her a two-minute standing o. As well, Leonard Cohen and his partner Anjani Thomas once heard k.d. sing Hallelujah and collectively decided that Hallelujah could actually be put to rest as it had reached perfection. That’s quite the accolade but she deserves it. I think this song was written for her to sing. Hallelujah | k.d. lang

Secondly, please enjoy Jeff Buckley singing Lover, You Should’ve Come Over. Lovely, beautiful Jeff Buckley – another in the collection of musical souls lost much, much too soon – accidentally drowned one night swimming in Wolf River Harbour while singing the chorus to Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love.

Hear this song and think of a winter night. It has to be a cold, winter night – you’re not in the tropics – you light the fireplace but keep the room dark otherwise then get into the most comfortable position you can think of – it’s probably best if there is another body beside you – then close your eyes and be silent for a while.

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.

[ Andrea's MUST list now includes ... Paolo Nutini | Last Request ]

…stay on the phone with me, I’ll wait until you fall asleep.
But how will you know when I’m asleep? What if I’m faking?
When you start to breathe heavy, I know you’re sleeping.
What if I fake breathing heavy?
Just stop talking.
Okay.
Good night, he said.
Good night, she said.

…

…

…

Are you still awake? He said.
Yes.
I like you.
Me too.
I can tell you were smiling when you said that.
Maybe.
Good night, he said.
Good night, she said.

…

…

…

Are you still awake? She said.
Yes.
Hey.
Hi.
Okay good night, she said.
Good night, he said.

…

…

…

Are you still awake? He said.
A little bit.
Okay, what position are you in?
I’m curled up into a ball.
Are you facing the right, or the left?
Right.
Perfect.

…

…

…

Are you still awake? She said.
I might be.
I do like you too.
Me too.
That doesn’t make any sense.
It doesn’t need to.
Okay, good night, she said.
Good night, he said.

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.

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 are just so damned 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

This is a little late, je sais.

Here’s Part Uno.

I was really looking forward to coming back to Ottawa from the wedding weekend because it meant hanging out with my old friends from home. I had two and a half days to do this and got to work right away. First stop was with two of my most favourite little people in this entire world. I’ve known both of them since they were no more than 15 minutes old and I cherish every moment I have to hug and kiss them and tickle their tummies.

Avery and Noah. Shannon and Ben’s kids. It’s hard being so far away because since I’ve been gone Noah has started walking, talking, laughing, and growing his baby teef. Avery has lost baby teeth and is growing her big-girl teeth. She’s reading in English AND in French. So it can feel like I blink and a year has gone by just like that. In some ways it’s fantastic seeing how big they are since I saw them last, but in other ways it is a bittersweet view into how much their lives have changed since the last time too. 

We picked up exactly where we left off, with some hugs and tickle fights. I used to flip Avery upside-down so she could “walk” on the ceiling but we tried it and either I’m getting old or she’s too big – actually it might be a bit of both. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be taller than me in two years; I’m such a ‘squeak. 

I met up with Kenny later on that night and was initially very mean by ignoring the doorbell when he arrived because I was trapped on one of the higher levels of Bouncing Balls and didn’t want to fault the game. It was awful. I was yelling at him (but in a nice way) from the bedroom window to wait. Poor Kenny.

So Kenny’s all: “Andrea I know you can hear the doorbell.”
And I’m all: “I know but hang on two seconds.”
And Kenny’s all:  ”What are you doing?”
And I’m all: “I don’t want to tell you.”

I was in this position, possessed:

Thankfully Kenny is used to this from me so when he saw that the reason for the delay was Bouncing Balls he mumbled something like “You’re fucking nuts,” as I got back into position with a new game. My response was something like “Ya … Oh no, can you scratch my shoulder? Quick!”

 If I may interject with word from the wise (that’s me):

Always surround yourself with people who you can be yourself with and nothing less. People who will never question you or make you feel like you have to explain your self (yes, two words). Most importantly, surround yourself with people who get your mania and love you anyway. Otherwise who are you living for then? 

How do I get away with it? I make no apologies. The less you apologise for yourself the more people trust you without having to try because they know that you know what you’re doing and they relax. The less you apologise, the less you resent people for making you feel like you have to apologise. The circle is sealed. Fait accompli.

One other thing: Be one step ahead of the game – know all your faults and have an answer for everything.  Always be prepared to have them pointed out to you especially if you tend to be a little more unconventional.

Kenny will tell you that when we hang out I turn into a hug whore. It’s the strangest thing but I guess where I’m coming from I clearly don’t get enough hugs. I mean yes, you love and appreciate the girl friend hug. The embrace where you say “Bye-eee” and it feels good because it’s your girl friend. Of course there’s the family hug – all very nice. But, for me anyway, no hug compares to that of a man hugging me so tight that I can feel my vertebrae align. That’s the kind I like and that’s the kind I request from Kenny. It’s the Crack My Back Hug as I like to call it. I’m sure in some ways Kenny feels a little used for his hugs but everyone knows even if it starts out as a pity, it always feels good five seconds in anyway. NB. There is a difference between being hugged by a man vs. being hugged by a strange man. Pick your targets carefully, always scrutinize.

In between hugging Kenny and playing Bouncing Balls I spent quite a bit of time hanging out with Margot - just the two of us. I found that since enduring the flight with me and seeing me there at the end of it, I think she felt more trusting of me than she ever had. Not only that but she had a whole house to herself at my mom’s. A basement to explore! Stairs to climb! Bay windows to sit in. I knew that once I flew back to Vancouver I’d never see her crooked little tail again and this made my heart feel this kind of slogged relief which really is an oxymoron but it’s the best way I can describe it. 

I met up with T. Mo and her friends in Ottawa which was pretty fun. T and I are both from there but met in Vancouver. That was kind of foreign to me in a way, but also comforting. Here we are rolling with the lefts and rights of Vancouver but we have this kind of home-cooked kinship that also extends subconsciously. Hanging with T in Otts felt like I was bringing my new life home to meet the parents. We also did something really unique and went to a sushi restaurant…

The next day I spent some time with Chelsy, Shaun, and another of my favourite little people, Riley-girl. It was especially nice because I had just seen Chelsy on my stomping grounds in July when she and Riley came to stay with me for a weekend.

I head over to pretty little Gatineau, QC to their most beautiful home (seriously, it’s the product of two incredibly creative, loving, and free-spirited minds; one DJs as a hobby, the other sells hand made jewellery) for a really nummy lunch and some catch up time with my dear, old friends.

After I bid them a farewell and a see you soon I head over to my Dad’s to meet his new Harley. He said “Sit on it and let me take a photo.” It was one of those family photo ops. Daughter sitting on Dad’s new Harley. Like standing next to the Christmas tree or posing beside Michael Jackson at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum; it feels awkward, but you smile anyway. It was fun, especially when I had it idling and revving the engine. Well hello there, I thought to myself as that beast rumbled under me. 

I try Motorcycle Mama on for size.

I said goodbye to my Dad and my new sister, Harley for good-bye in an until next time kind of way and head to my next destination that evening. Some goodies and tea with some of my high school girlfriends, their husbs, and their babes. The single girl makes the rounds…

I held Margot tight to me when I got home and I’d be lying if I said my heart wasn’t aching. For your blogger… well, she has quite an attachment to animals. Especially those who struggle. In turn, those animals become quite attached to yours truly and I dozed off to the sound of the slowing rhythm of her purrs. 

Kenny called me twenty minutes in with an invite for a late night drive and some peppermint tea. I’m going to stay in my pajamas, I said. He picked me up and took me on one last drive around a rainy Ottawa in slumber before I left the next morning to fly back to my Vancouver life. 

It’s fun having two lives, you know. One ahead of you and one behind. It’s like I’m a secret agent man.

But man, I feel like a woman.

… 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:

 

It’s been a while since I wrote last and that’s mostly due to the fact that a new Technology Usage mandate has been circulated through work and thus I am very limited in how far I connect to the outside world, while inside my office. And, being the good girl I am, I obey. So then, when I get home from work on one of those spectacular, after-work days, I forget I even own a computer and the cycle of work starts the next morning. 

I would have written on the weekend but I was camping in the Okanagan for what has now become one of the best camping trips I’ve ever been on. Number one reason being the landscape, number two being the amazing weather. After that, everything just fell into place. 

Summer’s rolling in nicely so far. I’ve been adventuring around, taking it all in as I approach my 2nd year in Vancouver already; which still baffles me, by the way. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been here for eight months. Then I look back at the shitty time I had in the employment department when I first got here; my first apartment that a Garbage Pail Kid must have lived in before me; one grandfather’s death, another’s 100th birthday; the death of two of my pets back home; my friends’ babies are hitting their 2nd birthdays now; etc. Then there are the changes I’ve gone through on my own as a person. How I’ve grown, and how differently I look at the world. I thought around my late twenties I had really matured and evolved as compared to my early to mid twenties and now here I am, 32 years old, and experiencing even more instances that will add to this. Emotional things, physical things, friendships, relationships, growth in my career, and the list can go on. I suppose it has a lot to do with where I find myself now. I wonder often that if I were in a relationship if these changes would have slowed, or at least occurred on different levels. But, being single in your thirties seems to allow for more variations in severity. Had I been in a relationship maybe I would feel more protected when things go wrong, or at least less alone. Which is not to say that I have issues being alone because I’m extremely happy where I am right now. I’d be a terrible girlfriend in the sense that my sense of independence would become a real crutch. By the time I figure out if I even want to be in a relationship, the guy’d be long gone. I think half of that has to do with the fact that I refuse to settle. Even though in my future I still see the potential for someone to grow old with and start a family with, it’s just that I would die inside if I was with someone I am just settling for. Poor other person too, who would want their partner to just settle for them?

So ya, that’s it I guess. Just a little thought dump on Canada Day coming to you from Vancouver, British Columbia.

I’ll leave you with some camping photos from my most amazing weekend as well as a Sunday Jammin’ song mid-week. It’s my little tribute to Michael Jackson. Poor guy. In my opinion here was just a little boy caught up in a grown man’s body who had amazing charisma and talent. A lot of him makes sense to me. As bizarre as it was sometimes, I think I got it.

In my lifetime so far he is the first musical icon I remember listening to as far back as I can remember. I bought my first Michael album - Off The Wall - at a used record store, then my parents had Thriller and I eventually bought Bad on cassette. I learned the moonwalk – sort of. I learned all the words to Man in the Mirror and Human Nature because they moved me. I remember that. I was 10-years old. This makes Michael Jackson the first artist who I remember from being a child to now, to have died. That means something to me. 

Human Nature