I am ashamed to say that I do not know how old Canada is turning.
Oh well, no work on Monday!
Good thing, maybe I'll shake this cold that's got a hold of me. All day I've been sneezing and my nose leaks. Yummy.
Oh well.
I plan to celebrate with beer. Lots of beer.
30.6.07
27.6.07
On Pillows
I bought a new pillow.
A fifty dollar down pillow.
A cloud of feathers to dream upon.
It is love.
And because I am nice I bought one for the boy too.
He wakes up a little less grouchy now.
Neither of us are morning people.
A fifty dollar down pillow.
A cloud of feathers to dream upon.
It is love.
And because I am nice I bought one for the boy too.
He wakes up a little less grouchy now.
Neither of us are morning people.
End or Beginning?
My two week temp stint turned into 2 months. I've gone from being the pretty face that greets people at the door and otherwise has nothing to do but answer the phone when it rings and surf the web to the girl who does all that, plus arranges, ships, sells, photocopies, scans, creates files, orders, tells, sends, runs, jumps, leaps through burning loops of fire and soooooo much more.
All that is over in two days.
I hate job hunting. But I am going to tell myself I don't. It's an adventure. The beginning of a new and unknown experience. If I had my way I would stay home the rest of the summer and write. I would go to the park and write. I would go to Starbucks and write. I would get on a bus and write. I would go to the pub and drink... and write. I would clean my house, do the shopping, the cooking, and the caring for the Boy (who recently broke his wrist).
Instead I am off to a new adventure. An unknown experience. Another version of life that will add flavor and knowledge to my writing.... if I ever have the time to sit down and do it.
All that is over in two days.
I hate job hunting. But I am going to tell myself I don't. It's an adventure. The beginning of a new and unknown experience. If I had my way I would stay home the rest of the summer and write. I would go to the park and write. I would go to Starbucks and write. I would get on a bus and write. I would go to the pub and drink... and write. I would clean my house, do the shopping, the cooking, and the caring for the Boy (who recently broke his wrist).
Instead I am off to a new adventure. An unknown experience. Another version of life that will add flavor and knowledge to my writing.... if I ever have the time to sit down and do it.
25.6.07
Went somewhere, Did somethings
First off, it is way to fucking early.
Lately I get to wake up at 5:30. In the morning.
Argh. I want my bed and a new pillow that isn't like a brick to lay my head on. I hate my pillow. It is a $10 pillow from Walmart. Serves me right.
Went to Vancouver saw my bestest friend and her family....
didn't want to leave.
Declared myself Godmom of her babies.
Now I have to remember their birthdays... I don't even remember my nieces and nefiews birthdays. Crap.
Flying hurts my brain. I yawned the whole way their and back trying to relieve the pressure. Didn't work.
Richmond is beautiful. Love it. Want to move there and by a condo directly over Starbucks. Actually I think that's in Steveston. I saw Starbucks and shouted with joy. Seriously. I am a Starbucks addict. And they had breakfast sandwiches that were AMAZING. Can't wait
Learned a little, about the boy.
Didn't sleep much.
Waited around a bit for hung over people.
Flew first class baby. Stretched my legs. Drank a little. Watched TV. Declined the hot towel.
Took LOTS of pictures.
Got home late.
Am really tired.
Saw the ocean. (while driving to the airport.) (and the dike by Steveston) LAME-0
Will return.
Lately I get to wake up at 5:30. In the morning.
Argh. I want my bed and a new pillow that isn't like a brick to lay my head on. I hate my pillow. It is a $10 pillow from Walmart. Serves me right.
Went to Vancouver saw my bestest friend and her family....
didn't want to leave.
Declared myself Godmom of her babies.
Now I have to remember their birthdays... I don't even remember my nieces and nefiews birthdays. Crap.
Flying hurts my brain. I yawned the whole way their and back trying to relieve the pressure. Didn't work.
Richmond is beautiful. Love it. Want to move there and by a condo directly over Starbucks. Actually I think that's in Steveston. I saw Starbucks and shouted with joy. Seriously. I am a Starbucks addict. And they had breakfast sandwiches that were AMAZING. Can't wait
Learned a little, about the boy.
Didn't sleep much.
Waited around a bit for hung over people.
Flew first class baby. Stretched my legs. Drank a little. Watched TV. Declined the hot towel.
Took LOTS of pictures.
Got home late.
Am really tired.
Saw the ocean. (while driving to the airport.) (and the dike by Steveston) LAME-0
Will return.
21.6.07
Please check out my new blog http://www.aturgidmind.blogspot.com/
so far it' s not a lot to look at but it'll get there.
so far it' s not a lot to look at but it'll get there.
19.6.07
The Witch, the Frog, and Her Wrath
“A frog! A frog! A frog upon your houses!” screamed the witch, with some difficulty, through a rattling smokers cough. And suddenly there was. An enormous green tree frog equal in size to two plough horses, with feet as large as cart wheels, appeared from no where and began hopping from house to house leaving devastating ruins in its wake. The village people, who had gathered in the town square at the witches’ loud and rude arrival, looked at each other in dumbfounded horror. What had they done to incur the witches’ wrath?
“What have we done to incur your wrath?” asked the boldest, or perhaps dumbest of the villagers. Or yet again, perhaps the poor man was simply intoxicated.
The witch turned to him, livid, her untidy black hair in a wild mess about her face, pupils enlarged and darkened by anger. She opened her mouth and all that came out was blackness and a horrific scream of many voices. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped to the ground, like a rag doll, her head landing in semi-fresh horse dung, it had recently stopped steaming.
The villagers glanced at each other, at the fallen witch, and then at the giant frog that was still destroying their homes and livelihoods. Many of them rolled their eyes thinking, “Great, just great, now what?” They looked at each other again, cautiously, no one really wanting to step up and take a risk.
From the back of the crowd the village idiot stumbled forward dragging his bad leg behind him and lifting his cap out of his eyes. He eyed the unconscious witch drunkenly, blinking widely, as if to clear his vision. He seemed to think for a moment before pulling a dagger from his belt. He bent down kissed the witch square on the lips and then killed her in the most humanitarian way possible.
As the last of the witches’ lifeblood left her the crowd held their breath in silence. They knew the moment of the witches’ true death because at that very moment the frog that had been causing chaos and destruction instantly disappeared mid hop. The villagers all cheered and rewarded their pal the village idiot richly with gold, and better yet, barrels of ale.
No one ever found out what had angered the witch, and caused her to attack the town. However, that night many of the village children returned from a forest picnic complaining of gingerbread tummy aches.
“What have we done to incur your wrath?” asked the boldest, or perhaps dumbest of the villagers. Or yet again, perhaps the poor man was simply intoxicated.
The witch turned to him, livid, her untidy black hair in a wild mess about her face, pupils enlarged and darkened by anger. She opened her mouth and all that came out was blackness and a horrific scream of many voices. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped to the ground, like a rag doll, her head landing in semi-fresh horse dung, it had recently stopped steaming.
The villagers glanced at each other, at the fallen witch, and then at the giant frog that was still destroying their homes and livelihoods. Many of them rolled their eyes thinking, “Great, just great, now what?” They looked at each other again, cautiously, no one really wanting to step up and take a risk.
From the back of the crowd the village idiot stumbled forward dragging his bad leg behind him and lifting his cap out of his eyes. He eyed the unconscious witch drunkenly, blinking widely, as if to clear his vision. He seemed to think for a moment before pulling a dagger from his belt. He bent down kissed the witch square on the lips and then killed her in the most humanitarian way possible.
As the last of the witches’ lifeblood left her the crowd held their breath in silence. They knew the moment of the witches’ true death because at that very moment the frog that had been causing chaos and destruction instantly disappeared mid hop. The villagers all cheered and rewarded their pal the village idiot richly with gold, and better yet, barrels of ale.
No one ever found out what had angered the witch, and caused her to attack the town. However, that night many of the village children returned from a forest picnic complaining of gingerbread tummy aches.
I am not a poet
My poetry is hit and miss and I cannot seem to grasp what makes a piece good or God awful.
Please let me know if this is a bulls eye or a dart stuck into the carpet. Thank you, Thank you.
No bruises to call bones
just black and white
ink scratching out scars
while stars tell nothing,
keep their counsel,
tight lipped and bright.
Night covers the tracks
of those not innocent
while young minds dream.
Please let me know if this is a bulls eye or a dart stuck into the carpet. Thank you, Thank you.
No bruises to call bones
just black and white
ink scratching out scars
while stars tell nothing,
keep their counsel,
tight lipped and bright.
Night covers the tracks
of those not innocent
while young minds dream.
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