may 6, 2002.

I have absolutely no excuse for missing 3 days in a row. It's not like I was out & about (or as we say up here in Canada Proper, 'oot and aboot.' That is, when we're not flashing the secret gesture and screaming 'Northsiiiiiiide!') What happened was this: I downloaded a stupidly addictive videogame from Yahoo, and when I wasn't in the world, I was playing this stupid stupid Tetris-like game for hours. This, of course, cut into my writing time considerably, because after you spend 45 minutes zapping coloured blocks, you really can't justify any more computer time.

(For obvious reasons, there is no link. I like you guys too much to give you a link.)

Also, the laptop is going back to the university on Friday, so when I was able to tear myself away from pattern recognition, I was sorting & deleting files like a madwoman. I have to burn baby burn a tonne of files this week, which just may cut into the frantic cleaning I also have scheduled. Mom & Dad & their roadtripping companions the Summers will be arriving on Saturday, so now is the time to clean up the wayward kleenexes and wipe the dust off the tub.

We got quite a bit done this weekend, despite my predilection for that stupid stupid video game. Despite the fact that I pledged to assume all household responsibilities for the next month (payback for making the Boy do all the work during practicum), he was actually quite helpful during the large cleaning projects that inevitably take place on the weekend. We cleaned the fridge from stem to stern on Saturday, throwing out many a shrivelled vegetable and empty jar. The worst was The Rice Which Must Not Be Named, a container of leftovers that was lobbying the government for a cultural centre when we took it to the compost. The stink was unbelievable.

(I just thought, 'I could tell the kids about that, because that, darling, is hyperbole in action.' And then I remembered that I no longer have a forum for these things. I think that's the only thing I miss. Oh, the chance to talk to several friendly little faces a day. And several bored faces, but hey, I didn't make the school system compulsory.)

I've decided to blow into Toronto for a few weeks at the end of the month. I feel a bit guilty for leaving the Boy to be responsible in my absence (all self-inflicted, by the way - he is overjoyed at the thought of me taking a vacation). Nevertheless, it's a siren song I can't refuse. I suppose the only downside is that Friday will be the last time I sleep in my own bed until June. I liiiiike my bed.

Dirk & Stacy are very happy about this, of course, and Dirk even offered to put me up on their hotel room floor should I decide to end the journey with a sidetrip to Montreal. I've never been in Montreal (driving through doesn't count), and I have to admit that I find the idea of it terribly appealing. But realistically, I think that the offer was made in the spirit of thwarted fondness, and once they spend 10 days with me they'll be a little less enthusiastic about putting me up on the hotel floor. As was commented in the Rockethome,

"It might interfere with the Hot Dirk Injection Factory."

(The preceding sentence was redacted. If you really must know, drag over the space.)

First things last, then: I got a tattoo on Saturday. My right ankle now sports a large green apple with small stem & leaf. It's part of my good & evil tattoo set - I plan on getting a matching snake on the other ankle. To this end, I spent a good twenty minutes after church yesterday canvassing parishioners on the colour of the serpent in the Garden. (My favourite comment came from a retired minister: "I thought I'd been asked every Sunday School question there was, but that's a new one to me.") I'm thinking green and brown, with a bit of gold. Gold eyes. And a little thread of red tongue.

It was a pretty quality experience overall. We were laughing a lot before the session began, over things like the effect of sweat socks on skin ("I think we should wait for the ridges to go away." "You'll have to do it compensating for the irregular perspectives, like paintings on the outside of a wall!") and my possible future plans for the tatt ("I need it high enough so that I can fit crossbones underneath without hitting my ankle bone." "Excuse me??" "You know, crossbones. Like a pirate." "That's what I thought you said.")

When it started I had a bit of trouble with the pain at first, but 3-part breathing from yoga really saved my bacon. It's amazing how much less things hurt when you remember to breathe throughout. Halfway through I was able to concentrate on the tattoo mag the Boy put in my hands. Those are always great for perspective - you just can't feel bad when you're looking at a bald woman with a full colour tattoo over her entire skull.

It's a very lurid, vivid tattoo. And it aches. I have discovered that there is a huge difference between a back tattoo and one on a weight-bearing limb. Still, I'm glad that I have it. I don't know many people with fruit tattooed on their body, so while it's not hardcore, it's kind of unusual.

The Boy is interested in getting an apple as well, although he's not so sure that he wants a full colour piece. His other tattoos are just black ink, very stark, and he's trying to figure out a way to make an apple fit into that colour scheme. We found a neat black apple tattoo, but unfortunately it's a Macintosh apple and he'd be branding himself. It's a logo for Christ's sake, even if it does look damn evil.

4 years ago today: today was a marginally better day, in that nothing expressly shitty happened, just the normal stuff.