spiders banned, spiders banned, crushed whenever a kleenex can

Today my peace accord with the spiders came to an abrupt end. I walked into the bathroom this morning and felt a filament brush my face. It's my hair, I thought frantically, but it wasn't my hair. That's it, sisters. It is on.

I kept count: I squished 12 in my bathroom alone. I left the ones in the hall alone, because I can't reach them and they don't bother me as much. I figure the one spider left in the bathroom can stretch out and enjoy herself. I'm pretty sure they don't dig competition.

Today after school I picked up my mom and went to a boutique to get fitted for the church fashion show. This is the first time I have been volunteered as a model, and my mother is discovering how much she wanted to be a beauty pageant mum. (Actually, she's just helping me with the zippers and picking outfits. Not Gypsy at all.)

I tried on clothes for two hours. Two hours of elegant pants, clingy tops, and brightly-patterned blazers. By the end of it I was longing for my Owl Dress…but at least we found some good clothes, and when I walk down the catwalk I won't look like a little girl let loose in her grandmother's closet. And no, you can't come see me. That is a promise.

This weekend I was supposed to finish my report cards, so being me, I was entirely domestic on Saturday as I recovered from my cold and entirely social on Sunday as I celebrated Sandi Purl's upcoming baby. The report cards were finished after 8 p.m. on Sunday, and I had to cheat to get the last class done. Fixed it this morning, and no one was the wiser. (Except Mason, who I was compelled to warn before I went to sleep. 'If I drop dead,' I wrote, 'all of the comments on one class are exactly the same. Pass it off as a glitch. Wait, I'll be dead. Who cares?')

Tomorrow: the power of Sandi's dandy shower, plus pictures that will make you want to eat Fenner with a spoon. And no more rhyming. That's another promise.

Labels: bat masterson, church, house rich, outfits, outings

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 4/21/2008 06:39:00 PM -

 
common thread

An embarrassment of riches at the library tonight. God knows I love my local library, but their selection is best garnished with a healthy shaving of Inter-Library Loans to suit my niche tastes. Tonight everything I wanted just fell into my hand (Lisey's Story; Ya Yas in Bloom; A Tree Grows In Brooklyn) along with a few I didn't know I wanted (Constantine; Renfield). I was so satisfied (and weighed down) that I didn't bother going to the knitting section. Now I have five new-to-me novels and a whole summer to read them. I am truly, truly blessed.

Of course, I have a lot of moving still to do this summer. While cleaning up and moving my CD's, I came across a special collection that had gone underground for a few years: a collection of goth dancables Stacy made for me when I was in exile (i.e. Nova Gothic). (Speaking of being in Nova, I found myself casting about for something to do last Friday night and decided to bake muffins. Déjà vu! Entertaining a pre-schooler on a weekend is remarkably similar to being 3000 clicks from all of my friends.)

As with any collection, some are more worthy of stadium-treatment than others. When Devo's cover of "Head Like a Hole" came on in all its ridiculousness, it was time for blastin'. Blake wandered in, intrigued by the odd sounds. In moments, he was repeating the chorus. So I managed to teach my son his first Nine Inch Nails song this weekend. I can't imagine that this can backfire – no, a toddler clearly needs to be able to express his angst with overweaning authority.

Which would be me. Weaning and all.

One of the places we sang The Song was at a massive new Asian grocery. Not only was there an impressive selection of every frozen fish you've never heard of (and squiddies!), but there were also a healthy selection of Chinese dry goods. I was utterly seduced by the Hap Land iced biscuits; a centimetre square with a big puff of dried icing on the top, packed in a clear vinyl purse. What's not to love?

My only sadness lay in a comment by the Boy: that my uncle would have loved this place. After 15 years teaching English overseas, there wasn't much he didn't know (or didn't claim to know) about Asian food & culture. I wish that Blake had been able to meet him, instead of being named for him.

Speaking of my relatives, I was powerfully reminded of them this morning at work, when She started talking to me as if nothing had ever happened. I just went with it, but inside I chalked it up as another victory for my little Guardian Demon (or Fuzzy Moloch, as Mason calls him).

"What's up with her?" he (Mason, not Moloch) asked today.

"Nothing. She's just Italian," I replied.

A tsunami of anger that blows itself out and is replaced by a sincere desire to get back to normal? No, never seen that before. Except in the mirror.

The acquisitiveness that started the morning I bought F. Moloch continues apace. Yesterday at the church, I espied a really terrific platter sitting orphaned on a table. "Can I have it?" I asked my mom. She directed me to the UCW's working the room, who told me that it's been hanging around far too long and it was mine if I wanted it. "It" is a groovy green platter meant for displaying devilled eggs, and molded accordingly. Unfortunately (!), I gave it over to Blake's care, and although he was walking neatly down the hall, it was a trifle unwieldy and he managed to knock a chip out of it on the doorframe. We couldn't even leave the room with it in one piece.

And despite my mom's warning that the chipped place will grow bacteria, we took it home anyway. I tell myself that it can be for Playdoh or mud eggs or those plastic Easter eggs that only the overzealous and underage try to eat. In truth, I'm hoping that someone can tell me how to safely re-glaze. Because it is truly the grooviest thing I own.

Well, for a day it was. Then today I bought an accordion.

There's been a battered old campaigner on sale at the Value Village for months. At $250, it was out of our price range, but today was half-price day…so we decided to take the plunge into accordion-ownership. Today, instead of doing the typical run to Tim Hortons favoured by my coworkers, I drove to Value Village with Mason, planning to walk in as soon as they opened. Mission: Accordion. And they ended up giving it to me for $250, minus 30% (previous discount), minus another 50% (current discount). Ninety-nine dollars and seventy five cents later, I magnanimously allowed Mason to carry it to the car.

"You won't let me hold it," he accused me while we waited in line. Once it was purchased, I could admit that I'd harboured an irrational fear that if I let him carry it, he might just buy it himself while my attention was distracted by something sparkly. Besides, I would hate for him to think that I had brought him along as the best muscles money could buy (if you don't have very much money).

I get such a tremendous kick out of this thing, even though we almost certainly lowered the property value as soon as I brought it home. As soon as the Boy got home, he could not be persuaded to PUT DOWN THE DAMN ACCORDION for almost an hour. The ensuing headache almost rubbed out my joy – almost, but not quite. Besides, I've owed him a ukulele for a few years now; I think I deserve an extended accordion solo. Joey deVilla better watch himself; there's a new player in town, and he can already do at least one Jesus And Mary Chain song.

Speaking of new players in town, it's a uniquely depressing experience to visit the local movie theatre these days. The 6-plex of my youth has become a second-run theatre, beaten down by vast, ugly theatres that look like ROM Crystals gone raving. Well, maybe not that bad. But pretty bad. I hate those new theatres; for someone with my attention span (see above, re: something shiny) walking through the busybusybusy lobby is a short sojourn in hell. And I also hate being one of five patrons to a theatre on a Friday night at my old theatre, as I vividly recall nights when we had to pack up 8 in a car just to get a parking space on a Friday.

This, however, was the only depressing part of my Hot Fuzz Experience. Because HOT FUZZ IS THE BEST MOVIE I HAVE EVER SEEN, EVER, AND IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT I WILL PAY FOR YOUR TICKET AS LONG AS YOU TAKE ME. Sorry about the shouting, but the Boy & I haven't calmed down yet and it's been three full days. Just the opening scene was enough to blow my gaskets, what with Simon Pegg getting a firm lecture from Martin Freeman (Arthur Dent!), who was joined by Steve Coogan (Tristram Shandy! Tony Wilson!), who was joined by Bill Nighy (Phillip the Stepdad! Slartibartfast!). It was like they were trying for overload, much like that opening sequence of HHGttG when I saw the words "Stephen Fry" after "Alan Rickman" and knew that this was as good as it got.

The homoerotic undertones! The stupid Andrews! The Point Break homage! The trademark reusing-lines-with-a-new-subtext thing that was so brilliant in Shaun of the Dead! Jim Broadbent!

No, I still can't calm down.

Labels: bat masterson, books, church, family, music, outings, the boy, triumph

- 3 comments/foxes -

- Rocketbride's adventure of 6/25/2007 09:42:00 PM -

 
the milk was low-cal, but what did it matter?

In the past 36 hours I have attended the following events:

1. The local Green Home Expo
2. Free Comic Book Day at the Beguiling
3. Bridesmaidmania IV
4. Church, and
5. the annual exhibition of a local Quilting Guild

I have fallen asleep wearing smeared makeup, a string of Cinco de Mayo beads and a candy necklace. I have escorted my son to every public toilet on the planet and chased him all through both Value and Mirvish Villages. I have flirted with the idea of expanding my crafting (I tend to be pretty monogamous when it comes to the pointy sticks. It's like tarot cards: if you're untrue to the knitting, the knitting turns on you.) I have seen surprisingly few friends but made a number of fun new acquaintances. I have seriously considered buying an accordion. And, unlike my usual social calendar of late, none of it has involved knitting and some of it has involved fishnet stockings. Cooool.

I'm going to see Daniel Johnston tonight (whoot!) and I have about an hour and a half of marking to go, so I'll pick this up tomorrow. First the writing dries up for lack of event, and now the events are crowding out the writing. Ironic, that.

Labels: blake, church, comics, dancing, friends, music, outings

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 5/06/2007 04:26:00 PM -

 
a new tradition

I am frickin' exhausted. You'd think I did more today than:

1. Sleep in surprisingly late
2. Take my family to church
3. Knit
4. Go home & feed my family lunches
5. Drive to Toronto
6. Pick up my camera (just in the nick of time - some burglars were eyeing both it and my toothbrush)
7. Go to Opera Sarah's house
8. Plop my bum on the couch
9. Eat & drink
10. Knit
11. Chase after Blake, play with him and administer some much-needed times out
12. Talk with several people I haven't seen in years
13. Go home
14. Clean out the final crate of teenaged detritus
15. Sneeze
16. Turn my attention to my homework, discover a lack of motivation, then
17. Open a new diary file.

Nope. That's pretty much it.

Had an excellent time at Sarah & Leo's 10th annual Xmas Open House, as always. I even wore a new outfit this year - usually I just wear my black velveteen dress with the leopard-print cuffs & collars, because where else will I get to wear it? This year I wore my new classy brown outfit. Blake & Demi played with a varying amount of success. We all nibbled too much. And we got to relax & be social. It makes me happy that we can still be invited out once in awhile, despite the fact that we live on the outer limits of known territory and our child is the holy terror of dips everywhere.

Today was White Gift Sunday, and my mom asked Blake to bring her gifts to the front of the church for dedication. Now, Blake's usual MO in church is to tear-ass up the aisle so that he can see the piano or run around behind the communion table, but I'm willing to have a go at anything because I like his energy. Today he walked slowly up the aisle, looking around at everyone singing; placed his gift reverently in the collection totes; and turned around to walk back with me, singing the Wallace & Gromit theme (well, he didn’t know the hymn).

I was delighted. I was impressed. I am in love.

Labels: blake, christmas, church

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 12/10/2006 08:16:00 PM -