and the nets go on

I once said to my bro that the problem with the internets, as a pastime, is that it's open-ended. If you pick up a book to read, you're given an *out* every chapter, and if questions occur to you as you read (Where was Dickens born anyway? What does this word mean exactly? I need to see a map of this area.) you won't usually follow up on them, because you want to get on with the story, and it's too much bother.

Maybe if you have a gazillion cable channels, TV can be similar to the nets--or with the increasing abilities to choose when to view something. But otherwise, TV has built in limits. You don't control the programming.

But the nets just goes onnnn and onnnn and onnnn.

I've been researching for my book, but I'm loathe to turn on my laptop to check out a fact, or read up on someone. Because I know I'll check my email, and my dad will forward me an article that pisses me off, and not only do I need to respond but I have to back myself up with info, so the googling begins, but googling always leads to more googling because side stories catch my eye, etc.

I don't consider it a waste of time--I learn lots--but it's maybe a Misdirection of time. I need one of those child protectors that stops you from going to certain sites.

Out! damn spot

I have a spot on the palm of my hand that is itchy. It's been itchy for, I think, years, but only intermittently. So I don't really think about it, and haven't looked for patterns as to what causes it.

There's no physical sign of it either, my palm looks normal. (Well now it's red because I'm scratching it with my nice long nails.)

Weird. There are more things in heaven and earth than dreamt of in dermatology, I tell ya.

My apple walnut pudding is smiling at me! The cheek!

My Lovely Day (in pictures)

Actually got out the house today. The lovely Ms. Midnightstreet and Vidal took Fernando and I out to 1001 Pots (quite generous when you consider the price of gas.) It's a huge ceramics exhibit out in the Laurentians, that's taken place for the last 20 summers. I went with them once before and enjoyed seeing all the lovely creations. (I love pottery, but when shopping in Artisan Land you have to raise your threshold on what you consider a Reasonable Price.)


Here are two shots from the web site. Hard to give an idea of the scope--there's just plate after vase after salt shaker after mug.


Here Vidal models my blue vase.
And Midnightstreet poses before the Créations Li. Wai-Yant Li is a very talented ceramics artist we used to work with in Bookland, who is now eeking out an ACTUAL LIVING at making her delightful pots and things. We love the chubby happiness of her little people.
It was not hard to locate Fernando--not because of the red umbrella acting as sunshade (my genius idea), but because he was, of course, watching a pottery demo.

I was in the market to replace the Lovely Plastic Weight Watchers mug (I've never even been to WW--what the!) that holds my utensils, but as my kitchen is very plain and ugly (gray cupboards!) I wanted something colourful. So I bought one non-WY piece...

I guess I'll replace the Baseball Hall of Fame knife mug next year. (Though at least it's not plastic.)

Last time I went to Pots I bought the little tea set in the upper right corner (also pictured below, from WY's web site.) And last summer I bought the only thing I could afford, a wee tea bag stand which I use all the time (bottom.)

This is what my bowl looks like--I will smile while I eat my Weetabix.
And here is the creative artiste herself, caught in a difficult training-wheel-three-way-turn.
While I love the smiley faces, Fernando preferred her little city scapes, and chose the mug and... gravy bowl? Pouring bowl? Whatever.
Well, I quite like the little people too.

The pouring bowl has many features which I assume Fernando liked. 1. The interior design.

2. The cool indent on the side that makes for a handle.

3. The little ridgies. Very interesting.

Afterwards Fernando and I stoppped off at Dorval for a spot of supper, and now he's off Having Adventures downtown. When I got off the bus My Loverly Library beckoned so, ceramics stuffed under arm, thither went I. Here's a pic. I'm always sitting on the floor, looking through my choices.
Going to the library is like going on a cost-free spending spree. And now they allow 8 CDs, so I was able to fulfill my recent pop-mood without overpurchasing.

And now... to read my Shakespeare book and work out the plot for this damned novel.

My Life in the Pictures

I am sitting here enjoying my new couch and watching The Thin Man Goes Home. Ahhhh. So I've finally uploaded some pics from my camera.

Here are the cats enjoying the balcony. It's usually too hot during the day to open the door, but this summer it's been cool most nights. Sometimes I peek out and Haley is sitting on one end table, Nombly on the other. Haley stays out there as long as she can. I don't know what she looks at... just sits on the swinging bench, communing with the night.

(She's been unbearable this week since Kardinall Offishall and Akon put out a new song about her: "That girl is so dangerous! That girl is so dangerous! That girl is a Caaaaliiiicoooo!" She says they changed the words a bit, but it was inspired by her.)



The last few weekends I spent each minute rehauling the apt. Here are my pantry shelves on their *new* wooden shelves. Ahh the perfect laboratory. And my fancy new apron.
Didn't do much organizing on my last weekend, except the spices.
I bought these plastic holders at the dollar store, and the labels at Papillon. I'm sure glass is better for keeping spices fresh, and better for the enviro, but dude... I ain't made of money.

I tacked up a list of what I have, and what I have overstock of. I am sooo clever. By now I have about everything I need.

This weekend I've been cleaning out the living room, to get sofa-ready. It arrived Monday, and today I put it together. The children were as helpful as ever.
Here is my Lillberg couch. It's the cheapest Ikea has, but that's not why I got it. It's high enough, with wood legs, for Nombly to piss on. I wrapped each cushion in garbage bags before putting on the slip covers, so he can't sully anything unwashable. Then I sprayed it all over with Feliway.
I've been sitting on it all day, and it doesn't seem to give me headaches. Yay! Fernando says his coworkers laughed at him for the couch. "A couch isn't supposed to come in boxes--it's supposed to take 5 men to stuff it in through the door." Well, I agree, but... this couch only needs to last as long as Puir Aulde Nombly.

The History of Me: Chapter 3

I vaguely remember that when I was a child I wanted to be A Star. I don't think it was anything specific (actor, singer, danser), just someone glamorous. I used to dance around the living room (and apparently in hotel restaurants as well), and I sang to myself, and the only games I liked to play involved the imagination. I either played dress-ups, or Barbies (which is basically second-hand dress-ups), or I drew fashions, or made my own paper dolls, etc. The story-writing started around grade 2 or 3 (the epic Cora time traveling series).

I took the occasional dance class, drama class, pottery class, but to be good at such things you basically need to be consistently enrolled in them by your folks. I clearly wasn't passionate enough about any of them to beg for lessons. But writing is something that can develop on its own, and being a child who can amuse herself on her own, that's the direction things went. Plus, it's really yet another extension of dress-ups and Barbies, only now the actors are on the page.

The Inner Singer never went away, of course, since she also requires little to keep her amused. These days she's satisfied by singing along to the ipod while cooking, though she misses the heady days of car ownership.

The Acting Child did a couple years of drama in high school, enough to know it's not her natural medium, but she had the satisfaction of getting the highest grade in her class in her graduating year. These days she comes out once or twice a year when Billiam makes staff videos for work meetings.

The Writing Child, of course, has been on a rampage since Cora, though she resents the time stolen from her for Acquiring Degrees (the Left Brain strikes back.)

But Dancing Child... tsk tsk tsk. The last time she really came out was in the parental basement in the early 1990s. Since leaving home, there have been a few concerts here and there, but mostly she only expresses herself in spurts--dancing a cat down the hallway, bouncing under the influence of Kanye West when waiting or the light to change, shimmying from the fridge to the pantry while cooking.

Watching So You Think You Can Dance this year, for the first time, is causing her to protest a bit. There's been a little more kicking-up-of-the-heels and seeking out La La La Human Steps on youtube.

I like to say that my 30s is about trying out things I'd previously dismissed, but maybe that was only the first half. Maybe the second half will be about bringing back my I.C. Maybe I'd better pick up a book on drawing fashion. ...How I'm supposed to find time to indulge the Old Me, and the Trying New Things Me, while maintaining Everyday Me, I've no idea.

Here is Darci the Fashion Model doll, who I believe represents my inner child. I gave my own Darci away ages ago, and Stepmommy had to get me one through eBay.


*
Here's the first exposure I ever had to La La La Human Steps.

Tea Break

Just had a little tea and cheese sandwich break. Celestial Seasoning's Almond Sunset, with soy milk... mmmmm.

Still trying to organize the apartment. I am slowwwwwly hitting the book shelves in the living room.