Before you tell me I'm evil for bringing it home, let me tell the story. When Lady J was on her last couple of weeks here, she was telling everyone that she would be leaving. If you know her, you know how expressive and flamboyant she can be about anything.
One of our regulars is a tour bus driver who refers to all the young ladies as "sunshine" or something else that might be considered demeaning or patronizing coming from someone who didn't so obviously enjoy life. He's always in good spirits and cracks jokes while he's waiting for his money. So Lady J, who positively blooms under anyone's attention, would flirt shamelessly with this old man and the last time before she left was no exception. She gushed about her acceptance to law school and we said how much we were going to miss each other when she'd left. He congratulated her and came back not twenty minutes later with a pair of gerbera daisies. Ostensibly one was for me because I was losing an employee and the other was for her for getting into law school. However Lady J took them both.
Now last week I'd been lamenting the fact that I had ever told J that I thought giving flowers was a bit of a mixed message. I mean yes, there is a language attached to flowers, but in the end they wither and die – so what does that say about the message? Or so I'd said. (I think I was still a tad bitter over The. Best. Valentines. Evar. or the only time I ever got flowers delivered - but those are other stories – and actually pre-J) I say lamenting the fact because even though I still think it's somewhat true, I like flowers. I especially like wildflowers. I like the sentiment behind them, regardless of the idea I'd previously attached to the custom. (And now that the cats are at Mom's there's no one to eat the flowers for the time being either...)
So yesterday, this bus driver comes back. He asks after Lady J, so I give him the full report, about how she's settling in and the courses aren't that bad and that we miss her at work. I change his US and he leaves. Not ten minutes later he returns with - get this - a white rose and some chocolate. (really rich chocolate that I gave to Little Miss Redhead to finish because it made my teeth hurt.) When I brought it home I went right into the kitchen to put it in water. J was quiet for a few moments and then came in and said:
"So, who gave you the flower?" So I told him, but I'm not too sure he believes me.
listening to: traffic eating: leftovers reading: Fifth Business - Robertson Davies
My back pulled an "I hate you" last night. A serious "I hate you". I could not get the damn thing to hurt less, no matter what I did. I sat, I lay down, I stood, I stretched one way and then another. It felt like something was out of place and that something was pressing on a nerve. I took some painkillers, had a hot shower and tolerated it for a bit, and then finally gave up and went to bed. Thankfully said painkillers knocked me out fairly well, so I actually slept. Things seem to be better now, but I'm kind of stiff. Now I just wish I knew what the hell it was I did yesterday that would have caused that - other than taking off my shoes. Stupid shoes.
I just wanted to sleep in and read and maybe play with a zine or a page or something and so that's what I did today. Mom called for a bit and J called 3x. I have done absolutely nothing in the way of house work. It's all sitting there waiting to be done and it just makes me angry. (I lied. I took out the garbage before I could even see this morning, and sorted the laundry, and all the dishes but still.)
Things I meant to write about: This last week as I was walking to work I came upon a loud squawking of crows. I didn't think much of it at first, because they can be quite loud that early when the garbage trucks are out, or they're having a standoff with the seagull clans. But the woman who was walking ahead of my got dive-bombed by one of them. It flew at her head, claws out, and swooped away before it came close enough to snag her hair, but it was obviously a warning shot. So I walked closer to the edge of the street because there was one perched on the awnings above the stores to my left and one on the streetlamp to my right. It took me a minute to see the newly-fledged one under the edge of the flower box on the outside of the store. I think it's parent's screeching was partly encouragement, partly warning to anyone who might get too close. I considered herding the little guy out of the main thoroughfare, but only for a split second. I'd get some nasty scratches for my trouble if I tried - besides it looked like ma and pa had things well in hand.
Also: watched Jumper last weekend. It wasn't one of those movies I was dying to see, but I thought it would be an interesting renter because the premise was cool. (I can hear the brainstorming session now: "You know what would be really cool? If you could just teleport anywhere you wanted!") So. We watched it and where some of the visuals were pretty fun, the rest of it was pretty lame. Samuel L. Jackson's villain was oh so one-dimensional and the concept of the Paladins on a whole was fundamentally flawed so far as motive - at least there was no explanation given, or even shown beyond the most flimsy of declarations. All Roland says (repeatedly, I might add) is that no one but "God" should have the power to defy space and time. Fine, but what makes him fanatical about it? How come it's personal? Gimme some meat here people, because damn, Mr. Jackson can be quite the delicious villain if given the right material. Which brings us to the problem of the Main Character, who seems to be your way typical sliced-bread angsty teen who happens to be someone who can jump from place to place - which he discovers when he almost drowns in a frozen river. Granted the kid's got to do something stupid somewhere in the movie, and that just happens to be to go visit the girl of his dreams who he's waited how many years to go back to? Oh, and not to mention what the first thing he does when he discovers (and thus using the almost-drowning incident as a convenient cover for running away) his talent is to rob a bank. Way smart. We find out later in the film that his mother is *gasp* a paladin like Roland. *Oooh* the potential for angst and drama is so good and yet...*fizzle* Come on people! The end is a fast-paced series of loose-thread ties and yet... and yet they leave so many things conveniently unexplained and/or unresolved. Hello low-budget sequel anyone?
listening to: Oceanside - The Verve Pipe feeling: ick headspace: drimmen-deeve
Yesterday I left the house at about ten thirty to go and catch the island bus. It was this bus or the one that left at 7:30am and there was no way I was getting up earlier on a day off than I normally do. Anyway, I get downtown a little early, which was the plan, so I grab a bun from one of the street vendors and sit on a bench to munch it and read some before I hoofed it down to the depot. I took one look at the lineup and thought that perhaps I should have got there a tad earlier. From the rumblings around and about I discovered that the people at the front of the line had been waiting since the early bus. I swear I should write some snitty little thing for the Monday about how, if they had not cancelled the 9am run, they'd not have this kind of issue.
So I park myself at the end of the line with my backpack and my book and settle in for the wait, figuring that if I don't get on this one I wasn't going to wait until the 4pm one - I'd just go home, no matter how much I wanted to see my poor kitties. The speakers blare that boarding is about to start, but could anyone bound for Duncan just please step aside to let everyone else on first, thanks? I blink and look sideways at the woman next to me.
"Did he just say what I think he said?" she asks, disbelief in her voice. "If you heard it and I heard it, I think he did," I say and shuffle off to the side where the people who had been waiting since 7, and about 12 others gathered in a sullen lump. One of the first set was slightly drunk and his girlfriend had one of those voices that carry no matter how quietly she tries to speak.
"This is total bullshit," one of them says and I press my nose further into my book, more interested in the idea that Christopher Marlowe might actually have been a woman, than how pissed off these slightly seedy, overtired wackos were. At one point the bus driver threatened to not let them on the bus if they didn't shut up and the girl got all apologetic, throwing up her arms. "He's really sorry, I swear to god!"
Eventually they decide that there are enough of us Duncan bound to warrant a whole second bus rather than a cab and we're herded into a 70's upholstered bus with loud orange seats. I finish my book just as we hit the bridge. We beat the original bus.
I mosey over to the city bus-stop that's nearby and snag a schedule from the bus driver that's leaning in the doorway of his bus, drinking a lemonade through a straw and I see that I have an hour and a half until my bus comes. So I went to the Starbucks nearby and got myself a lemonade, sat down on the bench and started my next book.
At one point a little elderly lady arrived but she would not sit on the bench because there was no shade, but she was chatty anyway and told be about how her son was getting married in August and how she had called her grandson to tell him she would be coming, and that she was going to bring her husband with her, even though he'd already passed on. Then she giggled and said
"I thought afterward that instead of an invisible man i should get one of those balloon men and dress him in a tuxedo and bring that with me to the wedding, but my daughter didn't like the sounds of that. I'd better be careful or they'll lock me up for a nut!"
Mom showed up before the bus did. My cats were suitably miffed with me for being away so long, but they tolerated some greeting hugs before mom and I went to check out the beach.
There were two tall ships in the bay shooting cannons at each other as they zoomed around. Judging from the colours, one of them may have actually been the "Bounty" that was used in MGM's Mutiny on the Bounty. I was hoping the other was the "Unicorn" that was used in Pirates, but I don't think it was. However, there was a woman dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow sashaying along the beach demanding rum from the beach-goers.
"But why's the Rum gone?" She was nearly a dead ringer for Depp in the same getup.
The water was delicious. Yes it took me a good ten minutes to get in, but there is nothing, in my mind, nearly so good as floating about in the ocean. I swam out past the swimming buoys and across the the pub dock and around the swim raft and back. I floated, I glided I watched the ships sail past and I watched people drink beer and get tipsy on their pleasure-craft. Two teenage boys cannon-balled off the swim raft and a girl rode an inflatable dolphin back and forth. I think I was in the water for a good hour or more just alternately floating and swimming.
I had forgotten how much heavier one feels when one splashes back out onto the beach.
Then we went for fish and chips at Cow Bay which was yum. Miss Kitten slept with me the entire night, stretched out along my side. I'd forgotten that she snores little kitty snores.
This morning I helped mom pick raspberries and peas from her garden. She gave me some to bring home. I also clipped Cinderella's toenails - or tried. It seem one on her front paw has grown into the pad. There was not a vet in today or I'd have taken her then, but Mom said she would this week. Poor kitty, no wonder she's in a bad mood. Yet another thing to pay for... but then such is life, isn't it?
I had forgotten, as I do, how much of a one-horse town that place is on the weekends. Nothing is open except in the malls, which I think is perfectly respectable.
On my way back home, I came through the grocery store parking lot and because it was so quiet (for a change) I heard this soft tapping sound. I looked up and there clinging to a dead branch on the tree above me was a tiny little downy woodpecker. It always amazes me how wildlife adapts to the urbanization of their world because this little guy was almost close enough for me to reach out and touch. I hope he and the little raptors I've seen don't cross paths.
listening to: Amore part II - Achillea reading: Mother Aegypt - Kage Baker eating: fresh raspberries that I picked this morning feeling: more relaxed headspace: undersea
can hear the fireworks even from here. my ears are ringing.
walked through the park earlier and saw a swallow that had something caught around one of it's feet. it worried me, but there was nothing I could do short of trying to catch him... futile, but still. I smelled all the flowers on the way back because I wanted to find joy in something and managed to fail miserably. Ok that's a bit of a lie, because the flowers and the birds are so fucking innocent one can't help feeling a little joy out of it, especially that robin who'd found a nicely turned plot to listen for worms in, but then I'd turn back to j and something else negative would fall out of his mouth: about the economy or the state of something. apparently everyone's an idiot and everything is going to shit. so many wired and wide-eyed kids downtown, drunk teenagers and people high on life. I sat on the curb while j went to go pee and felt so alone even as swarms of people moved around me. A girl with a glass globe rolling over her hands and arms, people selling glo-sticks, people wearing flags and weird red and white getups, a girl who had painted herself red from head to toe...
came home before the fireworks because we were cold.
Here I've been complaining about how cold it's been and the world says 'OK!' and wham! Hello 29 degrees and hello sunburn. Eouch, I'm pink!
I really had no desire to talk to anyone today, but regardless I did speak to Penishead (yes, that is still his nickname, in spite of the fact that he's been captured by a good woman) for a good hour or so. He's getting married in November and since his fiancee is Greek... well it sounds like it's an all out traditional bash. I just hope I can have things organized enough here to allow my to go to Calgary for it. Because yeah, even though he is a Penishead, he's always been there for me and I wouldn't miss such an important occasion for the world.
In spite of my desire to mince communication I was glad I got to talk to him, because I'd seen the pictures on facebook of R and T's wedding and I wanted to ask how it went. And yes, I was a little sad I'd not even known they were having an actual wedding beyond their private ceremony a couple of years ago. It just demonstrated to me how out of the loop I am these days.
My own fault. Too caught up in my own piles of crap. Working on that though...
However, I've had (most of) this day to myself, which is something I needed. I think I need more than just 8 hours, but as it seems that's all I'm going to get for a while I made the most of it. On the outside it may look like I'm doing nothing, but that is far from the truth. You see, my brain has returned. At least partially. We're still not on the best of terms, but it's not telling me I'm useless for the time being. So.
I have been thinking about the senses, and sensuality. For years I've read descriptions of the Taurean nature and skipped over the word as a given, but I was thinking about how much pleasure I get out of the little things. For example, the flavour of fresh strawberries fresh off the vine is enough to send me into raptures of the taste buds. Most people agree there's nothing quite like it, but I could probably sit for ten minutes just tasting the damn berry. I swear a drink tastes different if you pour it over the ice rather than plop the ice in afterwards. White rice needs nothing but some butter and salt. I could listen to the same track repeatedly and get something new out of it every time. A single line of poetry, or a well-placed word can give me shivers. Floating in fresh water is entirely different than floating in salt.
I think this is part of the reason I do not do so well in high-speed environments. (And perhaps also why it takes me a longer time than others to adapt to change.) I like to take everything in, to notice, to savour everything. I'm not a sensation seeker in the normal sense - meaning I don't go out of my way to find new sensations simply for the sake of the experience, but I think it's an apt description for the simple fact that I get so much out of them - at least if I can stop and take it in.
Kind of a random topic, I know, but I was thinking how much I enjoyed the breeze on my skin and in my hair in this heat - so much so that I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and closed my eyes to take the whole sensation in. Weird? Probably. Do I care. Hells no.
Anyway. Poetry.
*headrush*
listening to: Balligomingo - Lust drinking: iced tea word count: 413 word of the day: kinaesthetic reading: H.P Lovecraft feeling: melted headspace: sirenum fossae
I got up this morning and when I tried to brush my hair I couldn't. So I slouched into the living room, booked a hair appointment and went. I got the girl to chop it all off. She took off a good 11 inches or so but I tell you, my head feels so much lighter. Not to mention: sexy curls! I'm not totally sold on the way she cut the front yet, but it's still a major improvement to the little miss frumpy-locks I was sporting there. Mission accomplished!
On my way up to the mall I saw a snail on the sidewalk. (You're probably thinking something along the lines of "who the smeg cares, it's a snail, moving on!") But this is the first time in a while that I've actually see one that was actually alive and mobile which says good things about the way the weather is going. Not to mention the fact that the magnolias were blooming profusely on the road up to the mall.
'course, the whole trip would have been better if I'd not managed to bash my knee on a cement thing in the mall. Yet more evidence of my Klutziness. (Ok, ok, fine. I should stop reading and walking, I get it!)
Things that made me smile yesterday: The man who came in to buy ten Euros with which he was going to tip a waitress who was going on a trip this coming summer.
listening to: Kosheen - Face in the Crowd reading: Encyclopedia of Forensic Science: A compendium of detective fact and fiction - Conklin, Gardner, Shortelle Word count: nil word of the day: contusion project of the day: laundry, a birthday party feeling: slightly apathetic headspace: The Leap Islands
So the Peon was away in Hawaii for most of last week with his families. Before he left, the Whirlwind sort of casually remarked that it'd be nice if he brought back some Macadamia nuts. When he arrived yesterday, it was with a bag of said nuts in hand. He gives them to the whirlwind who grins and asks. "So can we eat your nuts?" to which he replies: "Sure!" Much cackling ensues.
We are SO mature.
While I was away convalescing yesterday the whirlwind used her lunch break for some retail therapy. She showed me the shoes today, which are really quite cute - as are all her shoes. As she's taking them back to her office, the Peon and I hear her squeal. "OMG! Sexy shoes!!" So I turn to the Peon and say: "And that my friend, is what we call, a shoe-gasm." To which remark he snorted his water rather spectacularly.
In other news:
Dear J, Please learn to chew your spaghetti noodles. I have now lost my appetite. Thank you. ~S P.S. it was otherwise a lovely meal!
