Thursday, October 29, 2009

Peculiar detai

When a few weeks ago I was lying in a Jacuzzi on the deck of a giant ship, I noticed that the giant screen mostly used for showing sports and Mamma Mia (lord, why didn’t anyone stop Pierce Brosnan from singing?) was showing a Morrissey show. I know, the minor miracle here is that Morrissey actually had a show that he didn’t back out of at the last minute, but the bigger point is: who the hell thinks that exquisitely referential, angst-riddled and irony-filled songs are a good thing to play to rich retirees having drinks by the pool?

The Spouse and I hypothesized that the manically cheerful cruise director, who for the purposes of this post we shall refer to as Celsius Happy*, was secretly nursing a Morrissey-filled dark side, and had sneaked this onto the program without explaining the implications to his angst-ignorant staff.

*No, this pseudonym is not sillier than his real name

This picture would be so much better if Robert Whatsisface had a rose between his teeth. His body language tells me I am fierce and sexy, and this woman is mine. Also, I am emo. Don’t mess with the emo. We get, Robert, all it needs is some…tango. Proper Argentinean tango, the kind that started as fighting way back when.

Will I see New Moon? Meh, perhaps I’ll rent it sometime, or wander over sometime when I’m bored and lonely…

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Dear Science,

I love you. I love nothing better than to sit on your lap reading about chaos theory (except –well, let’s not get into that). I can gaze into your eyes for hours on end. Science, don’t let the fact that I frequently confuse Brian Greene with Brian Austin Green distract you; I will pick string theory over Beverly Hills 90210 any day, except perhaps late at night after a few drinks because, science, everybody makes mistakes, and I too was young and foolish once.

Science, it’s too much. I must know you; yet my love for you is platonic, even after our many encounters by way of Star Trek and Nova. When, at parties, late at night and somewhat drunkenly, a scientist sidles up to me and talks about baryon acoustic oscillations I admit, my beloved science, that my love fails. When the drunken scientist tells me all of the science I should know before I understand the enigmatic BAO, I falter. It seems that love falls short – for I will not learn calculus, and I always was abysmal at physics.

My soul, most non-scientific of all, is not at fault. It is the mere matter of my brain that thwarts my love, dearest, for it prefers pretzels to pumpkin soup and Harry Potter to Maxwell’s equations. The will, unquantifiable entity, is there, but the squishy grey mass is uncooperative. Forgive me, science. I would have loved to make lovely music with you. Yet reality dictates most unyieldingly: I will only read popular science.

Your humble,


Thursday, October 22, 2009

Important information

Rule number 1: Never get involved in a land war in Asia
Rule number 2: Always remember to bring a book. You will need one.
Rule number 3: Don't read Jody Picoult, apparently
Rule number 4: Don't make things from scratch with pumpkin unless you are willing to spend numerous hours subduing the pumpkin
Rule number 5: If attending a Tragically Hip show, be aware that it is important to know the words to At the hundredth meridian. It helps if you've seen Due South.
Rule number 6: Watch Due South whenever possible

That's all I got for today, folks

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Illustrative of my tendency towards belated posting

Why I am

It’s a cold, rainy Friday and that could be bad, but instead it just seems like an excuse to stay home, have tea and make soup. And watch Dr. Who of course. Not that that is what I have planned – in fact it is a fairly action-packed weekend. Tonight will, at least, be mostly spent indoors; after I run a few errands I just need to spend time preparing for the board retreat tomorrow. Then tomorrow is an earlyish start, pick up a few things, then off to the retreat until lunchtime. Then shopping (after two weeks away and a week with time for only the barest minimum of shopping, the fridge is exceedingly empty) and in the evening, yes, the Tragically Hip are in town! I do like them, and potentially will be happy to brave the Awful Weather for them. Sunday, who knows.

So I kind of feel like an impersonator – individual impersonating an adult, a professional. Someone with a marriage, a job, season tickets, a board to sit on.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Really good

On the list of things that make me happy:
- really good fairytales, with real people and proper plots and frogs
- good TV, with intelligent plots, compelling acting and ending that surprise, not just startle
Thank you, BBC Wales and CBC; thank you Juliet Marillier

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Aren't you glad?

And thusly I resurface, slowly, into reality once more. Vacation is over – and very lovely it was, too, filled with tropical fruit and tropical drinks and people who were really keen on the Spouse (in a platonic, science-related sort of way. I think.) Very nice; so nice, in fact, that returning to base camp I braced myself for impact. It’s ok – it has been fine; fall has set in here and it’s pretty, and cool, and makes me keen on pumpkin soup and hearty dinners. Speaking of which, it’s nice to be cooking for myself again. However, I do have to get up at a ghastly, dark, cold sort of hour, and that has been a little traumatic. No matter. That’s why we have coffee. Or rather, it is why we would have coffee if I could be bothered to get up in time to make real, good coffee so I don’t have to drink the radioactive sludge available in the world at large. What I really need, then, is Costa Rican espresso beans covered in dark chocolate.

No time for a slow start – yesterday was my first development committee meeting, a terrifying prospect if you are, as I am, entirely bereft of leadership qualities and fundraising ideas. Unfortunately/fortunately I am the sort of person who, when asked a question, and without compelling reason to say no, will say yes.

There is much to catch up on, much to do – and really all I want is to make soup, drink tea and read. And watch season two of Dr. Who. Catch up on House.