Colder than Satan's Tit

I just got back home from Winterlicious. It wasn't bad. It wasn't exemplary either. The Craft Club crew went to this Indian restaurant, which had nice enough food, but served smaller portions, charged extra for naan, and could have had a bit more kick in the food. It came to $45 a piece, and we could have gotten better and more food and drink for less at other Indian restaurants we know.

It was my first "licious" event. There's a Summerlicious too. Meh. I guess it's good to try new places, even if you wind up a little disappointed. But it was nice to be out. Not so nice to be in the cold, though. Holy Murphy's shit, it was effing freezing out there. -17 degrees, man. No snow, just soul crushing subzero hell.

I kind of miss snow. Without it, this chill just feels like an angry cold slap in the face. Snow at least feels cozy. When I was a kid it meant snowmen and snow forts. Being out in snowy weather was cold and difficult, but somehow I always felt like I was on some sort of important journey, tromping through the snowy hills and whatnot. The absence of snow just makes it a pain in the ass.

I've been buying spring and summer dresses online. I'm practically counting the days till it's warm enough to live again. I haven't even given up dresses and skirts for winter. I just pile on the tights and sweaters and keep on truckin'. I just bought this one:

Feminine and sweet and most importantly for my body type: too short for the average woman, empire waist, and little room in the bust. Perfection.

I'm going to my hometown tomorrow to visit my friend for some needed girl time. I'm pretty jazzed. Not so jazzed about getting to the bus in this weather. But the ends will justify the means.

Just for kicks

Because I enjoyed this immensely...

Sex Ed

My job is so strange sometimes. Last week I learned what the euphemism for "tossing a salad" meant. Today I learned how to behave if I encounter a wild bear. Quite a variety of channels at play here. I do so enjoy what I do. Most days anyway.

I bought the new Freakonomics book, SuperFreakonomics, yesterday and it's already as fun and interesting as the first one. I've already finished the chapter on how a prostitute is like a department store Santa. I love books like that, out of the box thinking type books that buck conventional wisdom in favour of a complex yet simplified look at stats and figures.

I want more quiche. This means I will have to make more quiche, as vain though it may be to say it, my quiche that I made this past weekend was the best I've had in my life. In a way, it's probably good I'm a wee lazy in kitchen matters, because that quiche was also loaded in fat. Lots of protein, though. But lots of fat.

I still want another one.

I read an article today that spoke to me about sex ed in schools. I remember my sexual education via the Catholic school system over 10 years ago: Here are the mechanics. Here are the undesirable consequences. DON'T DO IT!!!1! Jesus! Throw in a video of a woman giving birth with some closeups of the crowning head and you're done.

The article was about pleasure-based sex ed, letting girls in particular know that it's supposed to feel good. I can speak for myself that no one ever told me that, and had I known it was supposed to be enjoyable, I don't think I would have allowed certain things to pass when I was a teen. My first boyfriend at 16 would have been dumped promptly for being so inept with his fingers.

I don't think abstinence education makes any sense. Telling people not to do something isn't education. It's issuing orders you don't have the authority to enforce. Parents don't even have the authority to enforce abstinence, not really. A person's sexual autonomy (and age of legal consent) occurs before the age of 18 and there's little that can be done to prevent it.

There's also the creepy idea that teenagers are children. They're not. Teenagers are sexual. Children are not. Teens have pubic hair, sexual urges, developed sex characteristics and an ability to procreate. Children have none of these things. So teens hence are not children. They have differing needs, one of which is a need of information about their sexuality, the type of information that will enable them to act safely in their choices.

I suppose it's hard for parents to be objective about their kids, whom they've diapered and kissed away their boo-boos and taught to ride a bike. I imagine it's hard to acknowledge that your child is not physically a child any longer and has sexual urges and a body that can and wants to act on them. And being unable to view your offspring as sexual may further incline a person to wish to prevent them from having a sex life. It probably feels creepy to even think about.

But that's just not realistic. Parents have a lot of say over what their teen does, but it stops at being able to direct the course of their sex lives. If a teen isn't going to learn from their parents about all things sex, someone's got to tell them, you know, before they get pregnant and infected. As for preventing them from having sex in the first place, if they're not making babies or passing along disease or putting themselves at risk with god knows who, I couldn't be bothered what consenting people do with other consenting people.

Pie!

Two posts in one day! But I'm feeling really keen on my pie making mad skillz.

McPal, his boyfriend and I got to our friend Freya's house around two. Her husband picked us up at the subway station, ingredients and tools in tow. Freya and her old roomie were already knee-deep in pie awesomeness by the time we arrived.

I insisted on making my pie crust from scratch and without any mixers. Reason being it was my first ever crust and I don't own any tools at home, so I didn't want to learn with things I don't have. They razzed me, but hot damn if it didn't work out A-OK.

My first pie crust!

With one oven and five bakers, you'd think it'd be hell's kitchen, right? But it wasn't. Our timing was impeccable. As McPal's pumpkin pie was baking, I was sauteing onions and garlic in melted butter on the stove. Then in went the feta, shredded cheddar and fresh chopped spinach.

Roomie's apple pie coming out of the oven,
and McPal's pumpkin pie about to go in.

Freya's house smelled amazing. Holy sweet mother of Sam on a stick. I mean, all that damn pie. My quiche baked for 45 minutes total and sat and cooled for over half an hour. From start to finish it took over two hours to make. It was easy, but it was a real process. But baking with friends was amazingly fun.

All the pies! From top right down: Pumpkin, meat pie, apple pie, ham quiche, custard pie, spinach quiche.


Cutting my quiche ^_^

The day was a success. We made some beautiful pie, but hot damn if we didn't nearly polish it all off. In all I ate about half a pie's worth. Freya ate 3/4 a pie, her husband taking the lead with one whole pie and then some. Of course, they started early. But we were all feeling it. No regrets, but the thought of eating any more pie made us feel nauseous.

And the thing is, I don't eat pie. I had my first pie when I was 23. It was pecan pie at a wine and pie party. I ate it to a round of applause for popping my pie cherry. I haven't eaten it since. But I ate two slices of quiche (Which doesn't count), one slice of custard pie (Which sort of counts) and one slice of pumpkin pie (Which totally and utterly counts). And it was good. It seems I'm now a special occasion pie eater, Christmas and Thanksgiving not being special in the right sense. I guess I now eat pie on days where pie is being celebrated.

I guess that's a little weird. Perhaps a wee bit neurotic.

But whatever. I brought home some pie to the Dude, who couldn't make it. My quiche was praised. Life is good.

Prorogue photos

Here's the pictures I took at the rally from my cell phone yesterday. I had no idea how to upload them wirelessly until moments ago. I love living with someone who knows how to do this stuff.

Dude: You can do it with bluetooth.
Me: Bluetooth? Do I have to pay for that?
Dude: No, it's a device in your cell.
Me: What's Bluetooth?

Anyway, take a gander at these. McPal and I were really far back in the crowd away from the stage, and here are a few pictures of what was behind us...

...to the side of us...

...and to the front.

Notice the idiot with the sign protesting the other signs. As this was a grassroots effort, it cost individual people a lot of money to organize this whole thing: the stage, renting the square, flyers, signs, buttons. It wasn't financed by businesses or parties, so to recoup they charged money for protest signs, the "No to Proroguing, Yes to Democracy" ones. And people happily paid, as you can see below. It was a mutually convenient for organizers and protesters. But I guess some people, like the idiot above, go to protests to protest a minute aspect of the protest.

Here is a picture from when the march got underway. It looked the same from behind us as well. I can't believe they said only 3,000 people in the papers. 3,000 is a lot, yes, and right at 1:00 pm, there was about 3,000. But when the march commenced, there were considerably more than that, and people joined right off the street. But they were off by 2,000 or 3,000 people.


Again, it was insane. Don't listen to the naysayers. It was a success. People came, they were enthusiastic, and we marched all around the downtown core. Pedestrians stopped and took our picture, people were along the march route with signs of support, and it was a non-partisan event. No politicians, despite NDP provided orange signs saying "Stand up to Harper" and "Democracy Works". I saw most people with those signs hold them up, covering the party logo with their hand.

But 95% of the signs and banners were not politically affiliated in any way. I was so proud of Toronto. Like I said, the numbers were greatly under-reported. Here's a video showing the protest and should give a better idea of how many thousands participated:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhqdoTO_T3Y

Anyway, craft club is a little delayed today so I'm still at home in my robe. I'll still make quiche. Just later rather than sooner.

Pro-rally, not prorogue

I went to the rally today. It was amazing, through and through. They're claiming we were about 3,000 in number. It had to have been more than that. As far as the eye could see, there were protesters, signs, banners. At the time I felt like I was amidst 10,000 people. It was that crowded and full on. There were likely about 5,000, maybe 6,000.

It was really empowering. To be so pissed off about Harper and to finally have an outlet with like-minded people was a relief.

And of course people who are pro-Harper no matter what, or who are apathetic to our government, or whatever have had a number of seemingly repetitive retorts:

1. Parliament has been prorogued over a hundred times before. The Liberals have done it. What's the big deal this time?

Well, when a minority government PM closes down the house of commons to avoid a vote of confidence he's afraid of losing, he's sidestepping democracy. If your party does not have the majority of seats in the house when you are PM, that means your party has to co-operate with the opposition who are in a position to remove you if you are too partisan. Because, remember, everyone else's elected MPs get a vote too, not just your own party.

When a government prorogues parliament to avoid answering for a scandal, such as Afghan detainee torture, they are avoiding accountability to the house of commons, which is a representation of the Canadian people.

Also, when you prorogue while there are still over 30 bills on the table and those bills are wiped clean and must be brought up anew in a new session, that wastes time and... tax payer's money. Who are the tax payers? Us. We are.

So it's a pretty effing big deal, yes.

2. It's legal. It's standard procedure.

There is nothing standard about avoiding confidence votes, avoiding being held in contempt of parliament, or letting 30-some bills die. Proroguing is reasonable if business has essentially concluded, not if there are still pressing public matters at hand to resolve. They're paid to conduct public business, and business wasn't done yet. Canada does not have a history of prorogation being used to escape the pitfalls of democracy, the pitfalls being having your power revoked if the majority think you suck.

3. Haiti is more important right now. What are you complaining about?

This is a rather new one I've heard, but it bears bringing up for comment. It is possible, of course, to care about more than one thing at a time. I donated money to Haiti. I also went to the rally. See? Easy. And just because our country is in far better shape than one of the poorest and devastated in the world does not mean we should accept whatever we're given from our government.

Food in our stomachs, roofs over our head, clean water to drink and clothes to keep us warm means we don't need to worry about our survival. It also means we're in a position to aid a country who needs us badly. But it doesn't mean our own country's issues suddenly don't matter. They do.

It's like telling a person that being worried about losing his job is stupid because his neighbours all died in a terrible fire. Terrible tragedies deserve attention, and we must respond to the need. But concerns close to home don't go away just because there's something more traumatic occurring elsewhere. Intelligent people can concern themselves with more than one matter at a time. The brain is complex like that.

End rant. For now.

Tomorrow I make quiche.

Pie

I was invited to a pie making party by my craft club. On Sunday I'll be making pies. Well, rather my friends will be making pies. I'll be making quiche. I've never made quiche before, but I do like to eat it a lot.

The dude has been on my case about how I don't bake, and how I said I enjoy baking. This is true. I said that I both do bake and enjoy it. But the kitchen is small and the Dude is messy in the kitchen (Which makes me feel less inclined to spend any time in there, other than the time I spend cleaning up) and we have few baking utensils and tools at my disposal. So I've not baked at all.

I didn't bake in the last place either, because although the kitchen was larger, the other elements were the same. Actually, we had even fewer baking supplies, so there you go. Excuses, excuses, but valid ones.

But come Sunday, I'll bake, damn it. Granted, it won't be a dessert, but it still counts and I'm rather jazzed about it. I'll buy pie tins, a rolling pin and ingredients tomorrow after the rally, and then I'll make the pie crust dough, and then I'll be all set to go. Huzzah!

I must be getting old where attending a pie party with a craft club serves as weekend excitement. Oh well, fuck it. I've started to gray, I'm allowed to descend into fuddy-duddydom. That reminds me, I need to make a hair appointment yesterday.

Memories, tummy pains

I learned to eat from my father. This man grew up in an eight-child household in a six-room house. I'm not sure how they all managed to eat dinner inside that kitchen, which was too small for the four of us (my dad, brother, grandma and me) when I lived there in my teens, but I do know that whoever finished first had a crack at seconds. Too slow and you miss out. Try again tomorrow.

I grew up eating fast. While visiting our dad on Tuesday nights and weekends, he'd ask us what we wanted to eat. The answer was always the same: Kraft Dinner. Why Kraft Dinner? Because it was easy to eat and my brother and I would race. Thus I learned how to eat without chewing.

I kept up these bad habits for a long time. Friends who didn't know I could eat like the wind would be shocked. I have a fond memory of being downtown with two friends, one who knew my speed and another who didn't. I was hungry and wanted a sub. The newer friend groaned and didn't want to wait for me to eat. My best friend was A-ok with the delay, likely knowing it'd take about three minutes.

The newer friend and my best friend talked amongst each other for a couple minutes just as we sat down. Then the new friend turned to me, eyes bulged, "where's the sub?!"

In my tummy, yo.

I've since rectified this problem. I was getting stomach aches. Huh, wonder why when I'm trying to digest meat that's been lazily chewed four times by my under-worked teeth before leaving the rest of the job to my horse-whipped digestive system.

But tonight I threw caution to the wind. Why? Frozen dinner. The Dude has been working on food shoots, and bringing home... food. We've barely bought groceries in over a month. These frozen dinners in particular aren't bad. But to enjoy this pad thai I kind of had to pretend it wasn't supposed to be pad thai and then I doused it with hot sauce. It still wasn't worth savouring and I just wanted to get it over with.

My body is protesting a wee bit. Actually, it's a little nostalgic. I haven't had discomfort like this in awhile. Memories... Ha.

Why is it that when you're 19 you can binge eat McDonald's and nothing really noticeable happens, but when you're 27 anything just a little too processed kicks your ass? Or maybe it's just with me and my small intestine telling me to go fuck myself after years of abuse and neglect.

Either way, damn it.

Before I go, this is worth a look. The Dude and I have five of these hanging on the wall. Nothing says awesome like popculture in cube form! We still need to fold up one more, the Duck Hunt dog. Bitchin'.

Attack of the Y

The chickflickathon continues. We're making good progress. Actually, it's really been nice for our relationship. Watching a movie each night instead of having the TV on and plugging away at laptops or reading or whatnot is more pleasant. However, the Dude has now insisted I watch a selection of guy movies.

Sounds fair, right? Tit for tat? Eh, not quite. I often watch a number of "guy" movies on my own volition, whereas the Dude does not seek out any girly movies ever. So this means there were a number of quality feminine movies he had not seen, whereas I have seen a significant chunk of guy-type movies, leaving the ones I have avoided to be the less quality ones. For example, I've seen all the Terminator movies, Sin City, A Few Good Men, Seth Rogan's offerings, and so on.

It also brings a point that so many testosterone-fuelled movies are considered broadly appealling, as men's stories are considered to have universal appeal, whereas stories more estrogen-fuelled are not. Somehow stories by and about women are "niche" and stories by and about men are for everyone. So while some movies are "unisex" as it were, I think it's only fair to be broad-minded about what constitutes a mens movie (not just action or horror), as I included several movies which are not exclusively geared towards women (The English Patient, Atonement, Say Anything).

So we've compromised and instead of 30, I'll watch 15. We got a head start and we watched The Hangover. Honestly, not my kind of movie. Not bad and it wasn't a waste, but I'm glad I didn't see it in the theatre.

It's funny because as I type about this male movie testosterone stuff, the Dude is curled up asleep on the couch cuddling Smokey.

Mexican boo-urns

You know when what you want for another person and what would be convenient for you don't match up? This is the pitfall of the destination wedding.

My cousin who just got engaged has been like a sister to me. We grew up together, went to the same school and we were always spending the night at each other's house and spending time together at least once a week or so. My mom and her sister were best friends, so my cousins were always around.

Now they all live in BC. I see them once a year. My cousin has a number of people who would have to travel in from Ontario for her wedding, so she figured why not get married somewhere cooler than BC? Mexico.

Unfortunately, Mexico would be double the cost. It's also not a trip I'd want to make without the Dude. A romantic resort for a wedding and then an extended stay? Yeah, not doing that solo. I'd wind up spending a lot of time alone. Not that reading in sunny weather and getting drunk by a pool on my own is undesireable, I just don't think I could use a week of that. Then there's paying the singles rate, which often means one person paying close to the cost of two people per room so the hotel doesn't "lose" money when a solo traveller books a stay.

See, my cousin and her fiancee are trying to win a dream destination wedding. If they succeed, the location will be so far out of our price range, that I feel a little woozy thinking about it. They would also win four couples' stay with them, but she and her fiancee no doubt have various other people they would want to share that prize with.

So bummer. I love weddings, and seeing people I love get married means a lot to me. Her wedding in particular ranks up there with my brother. She wants this kind of wedding, so I want it for her. I just know that there's a good chance I simply won't make it there. If they don't win, the place they choose could still well be out of my range. The Dude is just starting out his career and doesn't have a ton of money to blow on a Mexican vacation. I don't have money to blow to pay singles rates on a Mexican vacation.

Le sigh. I suppose it'll figure itself out, just likely in such a way that I'll only be there in spirit and I'll have to rely on pictures to experience a day I'd always looked forward to being there for.

Large and small matters

Somehow I haven't been able to keep very good track of the days. I only realized it was Thursday after work, and then forgot again. I sat here for a minute trying to figure out on my own what day it was. How does this happen? I blame vacation days still wonking with my internal clock, and apparently my internal calendar as well.

My insomnia is easing up a bit. To further combat my sleeplessness, I bought Gravol, wax earplugs and lavandar bubble bath. The TV is off. The lights are dimmed. I'm writing out my mind. This should do it. And if not, I throw myself into traffic.

No, no. But I'll think about throwing myself into traffic.

There's going to be anti-prorogue rallies all over the country on Jan. 23. It's really important that all Canadians know about this. It's not a small matter. It is in fact a protest against tyranny and a slow slope into dictatorship.

I posted this link on my Facebook, though I doubt many if any read it. It wasn't a YouTube video or an LOLcat (fun and delightful as those things may be). It easily and quickly explains from the text of a Canadian constitutional expert why Harper's proroguing parliament means grave danger to Canadian democracy. If any Canadians are reading this, I urge you to click the link, take the five minutes and educate yourselves on this matter. It's an anti-partisan factual explanation of our system and outlines how it's being abused.

One final train of thought, Smokey has been meowing incessantly. Well, not quite incessantly, but over and over and over again for long periods of time. Even when he's been fed, even when he has fresh water, even when he's been given attention. Maybe he still misses Jerry. I'm not sure. But it's making me crazy.

Four Hours

I'm battling some insomnia. I've mentioned this before. It's been a lifelong affliction. It comes and goes and when it goes, I forget I ever had a problem. But when it returns, I then recall all the eras of my life I just could not get my sorry ass to sleep.

I'm getting about four hours a night. I'm doing my best not to nap, so I'll be tied at night. But then something strange happens to me around 11:30 or so. I get this amazing second wind and I feel like staying up is very, very important. I don't intellectually agree, but a deep-seeded urge to stay up takes over. Then around 2:00 I want to sleep. Sometime around 4:00 I get there, sometimes later.

It's quite literally exhausting.

Over time the things I've discovered that will help me sleep have always changed. Sometimes it was another person in the room for comfort. Then it was being alone to have total silence. The door open. The door closed. Total darkness. A light on from the bathroom. Music playing. A fan blowing. A glass of milk. No fluids for hours before bed. Watching a subtitled movie. Not watching anything.

The formula for falling sleep is as elusive and ever-changing for me as how to stimulate the clitoris is for the average teenage boy.

Bloody hell on a stick.

Iceland

I want to go to Iceland.

I was working on a show about Iceland and I got interested and jazzed about the idea of going there. It's not that far away and it's totally different than anywhere else I've ever been. They're descendants of Vikings. Their farming is purer and more ecologically sound than our farming, which means better food. They are living on volcanoes. They have a restaurant that heats everything with volcano steam and they have volcano hot springs. They have geysers and one highway that goes around the whole island, and they have killer whales and puffins.

Neat, right? Apparently it's not that expensive to go either. It would still be really ambitious, though. I'm planning a trip to Vancouver to see my family at Easter. I'm planning to go to a wedding in California in May. My cousin who just got engaged has informed me she wants a destination wedding somewhere like Mexico. So yeah. It'd be an act of extreme frugality to be able to make all these trips.

But I went practically nowhere in 2009 and that was a little depressing. Travel has long been my thing that I do. I'm no globetrotter or extreme backpacker, but I do like to get out there. I like to change things up temporary-like. Some people change jobs or relationships or go back to school or whathaveyou. I like being in new locations.

Huh. Maybe that's why I am constantly moving. Like, every one or sometimes two years. I hate doing it. But I do enjoy growing into a new home. I make so little progress everywhere else in my life, maybe moving and travel keep things fresh. Thinking on it, it's a little easier to feel like you're moving forward in life and not just aging and accumulating if you're focusing on where you're physically going to be next.

I'd like the traditional things in life: marriage, my own home and children. And ironically all of those things don't lend themselves too well to packing up and moving and travelling around. But if I had those things or at least was moving in the direction of those things, maybe I'd feel less wanderlust. I already have a job I like and friends who matter and a relationship that makes me happy. I just feel ready for more. And without that more to focus on in my present, it is enjoyable to think about where I want to go next.

And right now it's Iceland. McPal and his boyfriend brought it up last time I saw them. Might be a golden opportunity.

Frustration

The Chickflickathon continues and it's on day four. It's been a really nice way to end the evening. Each night I settle happily into the couch and look forward to a movie that's going to give me an emotional experience.

I went to a massage school today and got an hour-long massage for $35. I'm pretty much going to make this a part of my life. I mean, $35? Come on. Awesomeness. It undid all the damage I did to myself hovering over my Wii controllers playing Harvest Moon.

Currently what's totally pissing me off is Stephen Harper. The guy prorogued parliament again. Like, come on. The first time was to avoid a vote of no confidence, which was lame of him. If you have a minority government, you are subject to criticisms and challenges of the opposition, who have the power to come together and give you your walking papers. Which is fair. When the majority of the country did not vote for you and your party, you don't deserve free reign to do as you like.

But he does. This time he's prorogued parliament because he doesn't want to answer to the allegations of torture against Afghan detainees. For all his hoopla about government transparency, he's now hiding. He didn't even honour Canada's traditions by going to visit the Governor General to ask permission. He called her on the phone. Anything short of a formal visit may as well be a text message.

"Hey Michaelle
Want 2 prorogue 4 2 months.
y or n?
TTYL"

There's also over 30 bills on the table. He's taking two months off when there is still business at hand, and worst of it is many bills will be wiped and will have to be brought up anew, which wastes time. And our taxes pay for this, pay for what is not happening.

What really grinds my goat is the fact that over 60% of Canadian voters voted for parties other than the Conservatives and our voices are supposed to be heard in parliament, in the House of Commons, and now they're not for two months while our PM sits back and watches the Olympics. Harper won't allow his party to be held accountable. It's bullshit.

There's protests planned across the country for January 23. I'll be there.

The paw print

The Dude is still on vacation time and likely will be all week. So I sent him on an errand to the vet clinic to retrieve Jerry's ashes, which had just recently arrived. I was expecting a small cardboard box with a plastic bag. I was going to scatter them somewhere or give them to my brother to scatter.

When I opened the box, which was a light blue, it contained an urn. The urn was stoney and sealed with a stiff ribbon around the neck holding a sold bronzy heart with "Jerry" engraved across it. It's small, beautiful and I shed tears when I held it. I didn't think it would mean so much to me to have his ashes in such a sweet little urn with his name on it.

But that wasn't all that was in the box. Inside was a silky navy drawstring bag. I opened it up and found a flat oval terracotta imprint of Jerry's paw. That did it. If I was moved by the urn, I was weeping over the paw print. The Dude and I held it and discussed ways to keep it safe and yet somewhere we could see it. We'll think of something soon.

I don't regret my choice to cremate him, not at all. I thought it was a little expensive, but didn't want to possibly ever regret not doing it so I shrugged off the cost and forgot about it. Now I see why it was so much. But I know I'll do it again when it's Smokey's time, hopefully a really long time from now. I can see the urn from here. It gives me a little feeling of peace knowing there's something of my little Jerry still here with me. And that damn paw print. God almighty. My heart broke in a sweet way over seeing that.

Emotions are in focus around these parts lately. We started our chickflickathon yesterday with The Notebook, and today was When Harry Met Sally. Since the Dude has already seen Shakespeare in Love, we're subbing in The Piano. It really is a lovely way to end an evening with a movie that makes you feel something.

La fatigue

My kingdom for regular, normal sleeping patterns. I envy people who can fall asleep simply by resting their head down on a pillow. I've never had that ability. I wish I did. It's almost 2:00 a.m. now and I'm tired, but not sleepy.

The Dude is asleep beside me on the couch, Smokey is likewise in dreamland and I'm on the internet. I think my natural rhythms are funky. Back in college I had a summer job that had me up at 6:00 a.m. I was a chamber maid and the days were arduous and unforgiving (and gross). I'd be hopelessly exhausted by the end of my shift. I'd still go to bed at 11:30 or so. And once the job was over, I reverted to my 1:00 a.m. or later bedtime within days.

When I first started my job I worked the evening shift for three months, 4:00 to 12:00. I'd get home around half past midnight and stay up till 4:00, sleep in till noon and essentially live in a social-free fog where the only benefit was always being well rested.

I need to work on Tuesday. How I'm going to shock my body awake for my shift, which takes place at a decent hour, 8:00, is a concern. I'm thinking mega cups of Joe. Like, epic coffee consumption. Maybe I could induce a sugar/caffeine crash to coincide with midnight tomorrow. Maybe I'm screwed and my first day back is going to be utter ass.

Blargh.

Perhaps I'll throw on a subtitled movie. Those tend to knock me out late at night.

Sigh. Le sigh.

Smokey's Perspective

Life as a house cat continues, if house cats could play Nintendo Wii. I've been wasting away my life in front of Harvest Moon and vegetating. I look like hell, the weather is too damn cold to be out in anyway, and I'm sleeping in guilt-free. I love vacation. I probably would hate myself and my life if this were my daily routine, but it being a temporary reprieve from work, it's totally rocking my socks.

The Dude is being remarkably cool with my monopolization of the TV. Which is good, because I'm pretty deeply entrenched in HM addiction right now and there's no stopping me.

I've been observing Smokey lately and he's been taking over a number of Jerry's little quirks and behaviours. One is sleeping under the covers. The Dude always let him sleep beside him under the sheets at night, and now Smokey seems to think that with Jerry gone, this is a privilege he must partake in. It kind of bums me out because this means less Smokey time at night. But I'm getting a little better sleep. Such a tough call between sleep and Smokey cuddles.

At our New Years party (more of a light gathering) he didn't pull out the stops like Jerry, though. He did grace us with his disdainful indifference periodically through the night, but was nothing the host Jerry used to be, who would travel lap to lap to accept whatever love he felt he had coming to him. It made me miss my little guy. He was a real warm kitty.

Smokey's also been burying his litter leavings less and less. Jerry used to be like that, he buried nothing, and sweet merciful hell on a stick, his shite stank. This may sound obvious, but no. You have no idea. It was uber rank, like a rotten egg took a dump in a sulfur mine. I don't know how such an adorable little kitty made something so foul. And of course this was his way of informing all of us that it was his house and we just lived there. Smokey now seems to believe this is true of him. At least his leavings aren't so objectionable. Not in comparison anyway.

So all in all I think he's adjusted to Jerry's absence. He has a new position in the house of top cat and while I think he still gets lonely, I've noticed he seems to enjoy his heightened status. He certainly likes not having to wait to eat until Jerry is done. Must be nice to be a cat in times like these. A person would have conflicted feelings about enjoying aspects of a companion's death. Not house cats, though. They miss you when they miss you, but damn if they don't enjoy your absence when it benefits them.

Lists

Today is a day of lists. First, a small chronological recap of 2009, as I do every New Year.

Went to Vancouver to see my family
The Dude graduated college
Performed in the spring belly dance gala
Played in charity road hockey tournament
Moved to the new apartment
Did the Ovarian Cancer Walk
Dude and I threw our first party together
Performed in the winter belly dance gala
Jerry passed
Stayed home for Christmas for the first time

2009 was also peppered with lots of movies, fun times with friends, and other people's big news, like a cousin having a baby, another cousin's wife getting pregnant, another cousin getting engaged, and the Dude's stepbrother getting engaged and buying a house. No big news like that for us, but we've been talking about 2010 being a more important year for us.

To kick off the new year, I came upon this guy via another friend's blog and the Toronto Star, and the Dude and I are taking up the challenge. This will make January plenty of fun for me. As for the Dude, time will tell. Though part of the reason I love him is he isn't a gruff emotionless man's man. I think he'll do fine. I was pretty impressed that he was willing to go along with this. Here is the current list of chick flicks we'll be partaking in starting the 14th (we're ignoring a few of the guy's rules for our own happiness. A. Better selection of movies, and B. We'll be done in time for his birthday this way).

The Time Traveller's Wife
The Notebook
The Joy Luck Club
Away From Her
Love Story
Bridges of Madison County
Beaches
The English Patient
Miss Potter
Tristan + Isolde
The Family Stone
Dear Frankie
Atonement
PS I Love You
The Way We Were
The Secret Life Of Bees
The Women
27 Dresses
New Moon
Fried Green Tomatoes
Little Women
Chocolat
Mona Lisa Smile
Steel Magnolias
White Oleander
Terms of Endearment
Say Anything
The Piano
When Harry Met Sally
Ya-Ya Sisterhood

Our main chick flick criteria is that they are movies he has never seen, otherwise there would be some changes in this list to include other well known female favourites. I think we're going to begin with Love Story. We start January 14th. Wish us luck!