1. Although I was worried about Morty swallowing an entire bullwinkle, he seems to be fine, and has in fact just swallowed a SECOND bullwinkle despite me sticking my fingers in his mouth to fish it out. You can do the math and determine that yes, I did just touch a slimy bull penis.
2. We have finished packing the kitchen and main floor and are moving on to the rest of the house. We are donating more crap than I ever thought possible. Since we won't have internet hooked up right away when we move (7-10 business days! Egads!), it may be a while until I can post again. Speaking of internet....
3. Fucking Primus. I have been on hold with them for an hour already, and I am starting to feel stabby. Who knew that giving a company my money could be so hard? They keep insisting I give them my account number even though I'm just trying to sign up for services. I don't have an account number yet! It would be great if you could give me one! Holy crap, guys.*
4. I am going to miss my house something fierce. There are froggies in the backyard and peony bushes everywhere. There are big green spaces and familiar streets. But at my new place, I can throw a rock and hit at least one restaurant, so I'm a happy girl. I'm gonna eat myself stupid.
5. There is no fifth thing.**
*Although I did giggle when I asked for information about their products and they said "Yes, we will be happy to educate you." And then we got to chatting about my travels in Mumbai because of course, their call centre is based there. God I miss the food.
**That's a lie. Rasputin's is closing and Dean is retiring. I am very sad about the whole thing.
Thanks to Megan's generosity, my BH and I (and Andi, and the in-laws) moved our boxes into the apartment a few days early. Suddenly I feel like we've actually gotten something done. Like we're getting somewhere with all this craziness. Like maybe now we can mop the floors.
Tonight, I have to pack up my closet. Then I have to wash the curtains. Maybe I can organize our bedside tables. It's too early to unplug the stereo, I think. I'll need loud music to clean to. The CDs are a disaster, and I still don't know how I'm going to deal with them. I have hundreds and hundreds, most of which are alphabetized, some of which are in piles. How to pack them? I don't know.
I have also lost Megan's gift in the mess, which is predictable and lame.
Morty doesn't understand what's going on. We gave him a bullwinkle to keep him happy, and holy shit, was he ever happy. He chewed it to mush, and apparently just swallowed it whole. I hope it doesn't make him sick. Do you think my crazy puppy can pass a whole bullwinkle? I'm going to find out very soon, I think. Yikes.
Speaking of passing.... Morty finished his puppy kindergarten class yesterday. He even passed the weenie challenge (and proceeded to whip out his own weenie, but whatever dude, that's nothing new). My grandmother, my sister and my parents came to his final class. I don't even want to know what's going to happen when my BH and I have kids, considering that his mother has already been ordering puppy bling for Morty on the internets. Nobody but the Communist Aunt has told us to have babies so far, but the way our families baby Morty is pretty telling. They want some spawn. Now.
We went to Oz Kafe last night for my sister's birthday. I kept ordering her martinis and gifted her all my art supplies and a cute leather clutch. She was thrilled. She likes used stuff so much, I never really have to go wandering through the shops when it's present time. Besides, it was a great way to cut down my clutter without having to feel guilty about chucking my art stash. She took away two whole Rubbermaids and an easel. Jesus, I'm a pack rat in denial.
One more day at the office and then it's time to move it move it.
Nothing puts me in a good mood like financial planning does. Seriously. I have been crunching numbers all day and I'm fucking giddy. Savings plans, how I love you!
I finally stopped making excuses and went to my BH's ultimate frisbee game last night. I think team sports are about as fun as getting kicked in the eye, but we both wanted Morty to be able to meet everyone on his team. Seeing as how I don't understand the rules of the game, and seeing as how I usually end up sitting on the sidelines in wet grass, I'm often reluctant to go. Still, I had fun with Morty and it was nice to see my BH run around and get all sweaty and delicious. Did you know that yelling "you're hot" in ultimate is part of the acceptable sports terminology? I had fun with that. Morty had fun too, or that's what I took from his boner-to-non-boner ratio. Frisbees really get him going.
Although XUP's suggestion that I may have bulldogitis was carefully considered, it turns out that I really do have a cold. I'm congested and sore, and if I didn't have so much to do I would stay at home and sleep. Come to think of it, Morty sneezed in my face this morning, so I guess it's possible I got it from him...
I've realized that it's very hard to tell how far along one is in their packing. Last week, I thought I had loads done. This week I feel the same way, but the amount of boxes has tripled. How the fuck much do I have to pack? I feel like I've been packing forever.
We ordered some t-shirts off Etsy for my BH since it has been several years since we've replenished his supply. Now his gently-worn shirts are getting past the point of no return, especially since we've had Morty and his potty training to contend with. Poo stains = gross. Ironically, my favourite shirt that we ordered says "Uranus is dark and icy."
What, were you expecting serious shirts? Puh-leeeease.
Woooot! The surprise went over very well. We are going to see Wicked at the NAC at the end of the summer. The excitement!
Those of you on the Rasputin's mailing list probably just got the update about the recent fire. Dean said he has a few options: retire, relax while the renos happen, sell the business, start a new restaurant. I still find the whole situation so surreal. Do we know yet if they arrested anyone for arson?
Morty has his last puppy class this coming Sunday. He has quite enjoyed playing with all the doggies, and he has become a favourite with our instructor because of his goofy personality. Of course, there have been some glitches... Like the fact that Morty makes scary growling sounds when he plays. He's not actually growling, he's just trying to breathe. I call them his gremlin noises, and the class knows now that he's just trying to be friendly. Poor little guy. There's also the fact that during his final class, he will be set up for failure. The instructors are holding a "weenie challenge" (hee hee) where each pup will have a hot dog placed in front of them, and they have to run to their owners instead of grabbing the hot dog. HAH! Fat fucking chance. My dog never refuses food. Ever. He's gonna grab that weenie before I can even say his name. I'll be all, "Mordich...." and he'll be all, "CHOMP."
I feel like I'm coming down with something. My throat is scratchy and it's hard to breathe. Maybe an allergy? Damn well hope not. My lungs are itching.
Some things I still have to take care of:
canceling my bills
find a baby gate
pack up craft room aka repository for junk
go through kitchen and use up food I don't want to bring with me
It's finally reached the point where I have trouble picking Morty up. I used to be able to carry him around with one hand. Now he feels like a giant sack of wriggly potatoes. Potatoes with gas. But still so cute!
Several good things happened this weekend.
First: I bought a fancy-ass padded push-up bra. It's the only real bra I own, since I have always been satisfied with my Zellers sports bras up until now. You know what's surprising? I really like this expensive boob contraption. It's comfortable and does fabulous things to my rack. I may have to go buy a second one. Imagine! My own collection of fancy push-up thingies! Who'd a thunk it?
I also got a lot of packing done. All my shirts and sweaters, minus the ones I want to wear to work. My hand towels and face cloths. My bathroom products, minus the ones I use regularly. Then I categorized all the boxes in the front room. They are grouped by eventual location (front room, bedroom, basement, kitchen etc.) and colour coded with labels. Now I know the contents of each box, as well as the room it belongs to. Most excellent.
(It was during this process that I discovered Morty's insane fear of packing tape...)
All the details about the piano purchase have been sorted out. We really own a piano. Ironically, I always hated piano lessons and failed miserably at learning the instrument each time I tried. Good thing I'm not a quitter. And good thing I have friends who can play it in case I decide to cut my losses and never touch it again. I've always got the banjo to fall back on.
I have a surprise planned for my BH tonight. I've been feeling all sorts of romantical, and I decided to take the plunge and get him a nice gift. Saturday, I got him fresh local flowers. Today? Wish I could say....
Did anyone else get woken up by that crazy thunder storm last night? Holy shitballs.
It wasn't even the thunder that jolted me awake... It was the lightening. My entire room lit up, Adams Family style. Morty looked mildly spooked, but he went back to sleep long before I did. My Better Half woke up, gave me some little kisses, and passed out again. Mmmm, the cute.
We had some friends over for dinner, and the whole evening reminded me that I've got to start taking the time to cook again. I feel like I've fallen off the wagon this past week or two. A lot of fried foods, not enough veggies. Quick breakfasts, cereal for dinner. This supper was a welcome change; polenta lasagna, veggie chili, fresh salad, baguette, stuffed mushroom caps, and apple/strawberry crumble for dessert. Fuck, it was good.
I wrote a test yesterday which had me typing for a solid three hours. It was exhausting, and the room was fucking FREEZING (are people learning nothing from those handy David Suzuki commercials?) but I am relieved it's done.
Packing is... Coming along, I guess. My BH is doing 90% of the work, mostly because he spends a chunk of his days at home while I'm on the job. By the time I get back, I want to eat and pass out (with an obvious break to get drooled on by Morty). I'm hoping to get in the moving groove soon. Seeing as how I only have two weeks left.
Oh, Christ, I only have two weeks left.
It is a week of small accomplishments.
Finally, after about ten months of procrastination, I have filed my health insurance claims. I dropped them off in person so I could relish the feeling of sliding my envelope into the claims box (ooh, sexy). It was worth it.
My beloved house was rented yesterday to a group of very polite frat boys. No more strangers will come wandering through anymore! Thank goodness. That was getting to be a bit much. The countdown beings...
I returned my drum kit early, and got $9.30 back which I promptly spent on snacks. That leaves a huge space in my front room to do some packing. (Mental note: do some packing)
I have five pairs of expensive pants that I had stopped wearing because they were either a. dirty and couldn't be washed in a machine or b. too damn big on me. I bit the bullet and got them tailored and dry cleaned. Expensive, but now I can wear my pants again! Too bad they are wool and meant to be worn in winter. Woops.
Now I just have to survive the next four weeks of testing, moving and jobbing to be home free. Fingers crossed that I don't keel right over.
I'm back from a whirlwind wedding weekend in The Tang. A lot of stuff happened in a very short amount of time, so I'll try to condense it by picking out the most memorable bits.
Perhaps most memorable is the fact that we got lost on our way up there. Oddly enough, we seemed to have gotten lost because we were over-prepared. We had the directions from my cousin, we had a big map, and we had a GPS system we borrowed from the in-laws. You'd think this would ensure that we would be incapable of taking a wrong turn, but we like to stretch the limits of stupidity every now and then.
My BH and I reached one of many small towns a few hours in, and according to my cousin's instructions, we were supposed to go straight through to the next town. However, as I was driving through, the GPS system said "TURN RIGHT HERE" in its creepy machine voice. I pulled over, and we consulted the map. We eventually determined that our three navigators were all telling us to go in different directions, so we decided to trust the machine and take the right turn.
An hour or two later, we were lost somewhere in the Haliburtons, trying desperately to get cell phone reception to call our relatives. They figured out where we were, and talked us back onto the correct highway. We arrived at the wedding fifteen minutes before it started instead of our planned two or three hour grace period. Since we were cutting it close, we changed in the parking lot behind our car. (Afterwards I noticed that the entire church had windows facing the parking lot and realized that I had flashed a room full of devout Catholics.) (This is totally something I would do.) (I was surprisingly cool with the whole thing.)
The ceremony was lovely, and I was thrilled to see that I had been seated next to my Communist Aunt. This meant that even if the ceremony was dry, I would still be entertained. My theory was correct. The priest was chatting away about how something or other was the word of God, and she leaned in, cocked an eyebrow and said, "It sounds more like the word of a horny old man to me." Thank you, Communist Aunt. A solid observation.
Later in the ceremony, she looked lost in thought. I figured she was reflecting on the beauty of the wedding or something, but obviously I was just being naive. She turned to me, and out of nowhere said, "You know, we would all be great grandparents by now if all you kids would have started having babies earlier. What the hell are you waiting for, anyway? Get busy!" (Perhaps this is just the Communist Aunt version of 'so when are you having kids?')
I was a little speechless at that one. My BH was giggling beside me. Once I regained my composure, I leaned in with a wink and said "It's not for lack of practice, aunty."
The rest of the evening was standard wedding fun. There was a buffet, cupcakes, an open bar, and more cupcakes. We partied with our relatives and listened to people tell embarrassing stories about the bride and groom. Eventually we headed back to our Super 8 hotel and passed out on the cheap polyester comforters. Because we had two Queen-sized beds, my BH insisted on sleeping alone so he could "sleep all stretched out like a star fish." It made no difference to me, because I swear I was asleep before I hit the pillow.
Since we left little Morty at home with our dear friend to look after him, we had to leave The Tang at noon the next day to get back in decent time. After a greasy breakfast and a five minute walk through the entire Tang downtown, we were off. It was a lovely ride home, and we stopped at a few antique places along the way. I bought an antique washboard! It will double as art as well as a musical instrument.
And that's about it. One wedding down, and one more to go. Woot!
Holy, Bluesfest is busy.
I mean, I knew that, but in previous years I would plant myself at the Black Sheep stage and not venture too far beyond it for the evening. Last night we stretched our horizons, and after Mighty Popo was done, we wandered over to the main stage for the Black Crows. They put on a great show, and the sound was excellent, but CHRIST there were a lot of people. I'm only 5'2, so you can just imagine how much I was getting stepped on/pushed/blocked all night. I also think I was a bit woozy from walking through clouds of mystery smoke. Eventually we headed home to the puppy and collapsed exhausted into bed. A good night, but I need to wash the drug smell out of my clothes before I accidentally wear them to work. I have a distinct 'festival' fragrance about me.
Are you guys missing Zoom? I am. I can't wait to hear some stories about her adventures in the woods. Come back Zoom!
Oy, this wedding tomorrow. I'm excited to see my family, but I am also drained and in need of a good long sleep. The drive is a bit daunting, too. I must remember to bring snacks so that I'm not stuck with salad-in-a-bag from a truck stop. God, I hate salad-in-a-bag.
The stress of moving is being pushed aside by work stress. I'm writing some tests next week, learning how to do a new job, and as soon as I get back from moving houses, I start a two-week placement working a much crazier position. This summer is going to eat me whole. I have no idea how I'm going to balance it all.
On a more cheerful note, I get to wear a dress at this wedding that looks like a green doily. And I'm happy about it. I'll see if I can get a picture that won't be blurry from the drink.
Off to The Tang! See you in a few days!
So, I know it's been hot and humid lately. Really hot and humid. But seeing as how I'm a girl who loves both heat and humidity, I've been enjoying the weather while everyone else around me has been gasping for air.
I have my theories about why I love extreme heat, but sometimes it still puzzles me. Surely it's not normal to be perfectly content while my friends have melted into puddles beside me. I was looking into air conditioners yesterday, not because I want one for myself, but because my dog and my partner are both incapable of dealing with the hot weather. Yes, my BH, a man who grew up in the blazing (and pleasant!) heat of India detests Ottawa summers and adores the chilly winter months. Gack. Winter here is like hell on a stick. A really long stick. (Even thinking about the cold has killed my ability to think up a witty metaphor!) I sleep with my duvet all year round, and it takes a lot of prodding to get me into a freezing cold pool when I could be sitting in a steam room.
Anyway, I bring this up because I've discovered one thing that annoys me about this sticky heat (other than the general feeling of discomfort one gets from being constantly sweaty). My go-to summer moisturizer, pure coconut oil, has gone all liquidy. Usually, this type of oil stays solid until it's thrown into a frying pan. That's why it makes such a brilliant face cream - it's thick without all the added gunk. But lately? I open my little oil pot and it's practically bubbling. Smearing warm oil on your face first thing in the morning feels just as gross as it sounds.
That being said, I find the weather today way too cold, and have already requested that my BH bring my warm hoodie to Bluesfest tonight. I know. I'm a total wimp. Moving on.
I gave Morty a nice bath yesterday, because the poor dude needed a break from the heat. He came out of the bathroom smelling like roses! Then I took him for a walk and he crapped on his leg. Why did he feel the need to try pooping in a new and more awkward position than normal? I will never know. Needless to say, he missed the ground and the poop slowly slid down his thigh while I scrambled for a leaf to wipe up the mess.
Bulldogs. They've got a case of the crazy, but I love them to bits.
Morty had a nightmare last night.
I know this because he started whimpering and howling sometime around 3 am. When we looked in his crate, he was passed out, scrunched up all funny because he had been kicking his toys around. My BH brought him onto the bed, and he promptly fell asleep on my face (he later migrated to my neck, chest, head again, pillow, feet, and went back up to my head for good measure). I didn't sleep that well. I had a whimpering dog on my head. Obvs.
As hellish as moving is, I'm starting to get a bit excited. I'm looking forward to living in a new neighbourhood. I'm looking forward to the neighbours I'm going to have. And considering how heavy Morty is getting, I'm looking forward to not having a long staircase to carry him down every time he needs to pee (he isn't supposed to go up and down stairs much yet in an effort to save his hips from dysplasia). Last night, I stopped into Staples and got coloured cue cards to label my moving boxes. Nothing gets me going like a label or two. Or fifteen. Besides, these cue cards are NEON. I'm going to move like it's 1986!
I had my final drum lesson last night. In a few short months, I've learned a crapload about hand foot coordination and latin rhythm. I can play coherently; badly, but coherently. This makes me happy. However, my money does not stretch far enough to cover another block of lessons, so I'm going to quit before I'm broke. My next challenge? Getting me some inexpensive drum sequencing software to make bizarre banjo dance music. YES.
In a few days we'll be at my cousin's open bar wedding in The Tang. This side of my family really knows how to party, and I'm secretly hoping that my communist aunt shows up (partly because I want to see her, and partly because she is insanely
offensive entertaining whilst inebriated). It's going to be one hell of a wedding.
A-Channel reported last night that the Rasputin's fire was an act of arson. Are they fucking serious?
There was a fire yesterday at my home away from home, Rasputin's Folk Cafe. I have yet to find out all the details, but the story is here, for those who want to know the basics. I drove by today, and everything is boarded up. Devastating.
It gets worse. Shawna just told me that the amazing fiddler Oliver Schroer died on Thursday. His playing always astounded me; he was truly gifted. What a sad week for folk music.
We found movers for the end of the month. I am so relieved. We can't afford it, not by a long shot, but at least I won't be so nervous about getting everything done on time. Besides which, we seem to own a piano, and fucked if I'm moving that thing myself.
The past few days have been strange. It's been a see-saw of good and bad - good on the job front, bad for money, or good visit with the vet, and wandering right into someone else's bad mood. Sort of like face-planting repeatedly into a mattress. I hope it starts to balance out. I'd like to slow down and enjoy my summer more than I've been doing. Tonight I'm making garlic scape pesto with my bounty from Life Organic. That's pretty summery... And organic-y...
I have lost my train of thought.
Today I took Morty to Ritchie's Feed and Seed to look at plants. He was pretty thrilled, seeing as how he loves flowers and only picks the most expensive ground cover to crap on. He even peed on a push cart! You REALLY know he's happy when he pulls something like that. So, by request from Laura, we have a Morty Picture Update!
Obviously Morty is still absolutely deliciously adorable. One thing I wish I had gotten on camera is Morty's Super Awesome Tongue Trick, wherein he makes eating motions in his sleep, and then forgets to bring his tongue back inside his mouth afterwards. Basically, he looks like he's in mid-chomp, but he's snoring.
Like I said. It's Super Awesome.
My brain is a mess. And you know what the worst part is? My replacement notebook for my broken notebook isn't doing the trick, and now I am list-less (pardon the pun, but it wrote itself). I feel lost.
So. Let's focus on the good. I have decided to use popsicle sticks to alphabetize my CD collection. Why is this good news? I... Don't really know. SEE? Lost without my notebook. Surely it would explain why I was so happy about this.
I've also been doing some long-overdue catching up with my Colombian bud. Having him in town is both exciting and bizarre, because he hasn't lived here since we finished high school. It's been a long time since we've been able to hang out and talk without any real time constrictions. Usually one of us has a bus/train/plane/ride to catch, and so everything is hurried. Do you know how much teasing I have to catch up on? A fuckload, that's what.* Luckily I am still way faster than him in the smack-you-in-the-chest-and-run department.
This got me thinking that for the first time in many years, most of my closest friends are geographically accessible within a few hours of driving. The friends that live the farthest are in and around Toronto. Considering how spread out everyone has been, it's amazing that we're all in the same vicinity again. There are a couple of overseas exceptions, but for the most part, we're all here.
I plan to wind down my stress this weekend, especially since my planner tells me that I have nothing going on this Saturday. Thank goodness I have my planner. Take away my planner AND my notebook? I would speak only in code and wear nothing but tube socks and bangles to work.
*Dear spell check: Fuckload is a perfectly valid word. Thank you.
This Canada Day was a definite improvement over previous Canada Days... We literally just ate, drank and sat around until the local firecrackers stopped going off. I kept shouting "show me your tits!" to Andi, and as far as I remember, she never did.
Morty had a slightly less fun time, having unwisely provoked an older alpha dog which resulted in a bite or two on the noggin. Poor little man. He slept it off and seems to remember nothing. He also went miraculously boner-free for the whole day! Go Morty!! We have posted a few new videos to his Youtube channel, in case you feel like watching a fat puppy dancing to Paul Simon.
I've started to say no to new gigs. Is that weird? I think I want to take the summer off and change my focus. Moving, getting healthy and spending time with my BH and my pup are the only things I want to deal with lately. I haven't had the time or the mental space to write new songs. I just don't feel inspired. It would probably be a whole lot better to spend the summer recharging instead of playing the same old set over and over. There are a few fall shows I'm looking forward to, so I'll jump back in the game then.*
It's becoming more and more clear that I'm going to need to hire movers for the end of the month. Especially since this morning, when I discovered that we might be the new owners of a piano. The problem? Every moving company in Ottawa seems to be booked up. We thought we'd be able to do it ourselves, but now, as the expression goes, we are royally fucked. Fucked with a capital Fuck. That's how the expression goes, I'm sure of it.
Would I like a glass of panic with my stress? Ooooh, yes please!
*Watch this all fall apart the second someone offers me something really fun.