It's all fun & games, till somebody loses an eye...

Before I share my afternoon with you, it's important to make it clear that I hate shopping for clothes, shoes, anything that might possibly land me in a mall. In fact, I'm not generally a big fan of shopping as a recreational activity in any way shape or form (yarn stores, indie bookstores, and funky thrift stores being the exceptions). Usually, it's more of a necessary evil, to be eased by the judicious consumption of gin. Or tequila.

Finding (much-needed) new footwear and a new summer top the other day was thus quite an accomplishment for me. But the new summer top highlighted another need I've been trying not to think about for some time: a new bra.

I hate the damned things anyway, first thing I do when I get home is take it off, already. I've managed to get by for quite some time on a couple of light-support "sports" bras (though they'd really only be good for yoga, nothing with any kind of impact!). But as much as I wanted to deny it, it was past time. Ugh.

I decided that today was the day to get it over with. I fortified myself with coffee, put on my snazzy new sandals for a self-esteem boost, tried to remember everything I ever read in O about proper bra sizing, and I headed down to Sears.

Where I spent two hours trying on a million different damned rickin-frackin' bras. Trying to find something without scratchy lace or pokey underwires or of the "push-up" variety that would shove my bosom up around my throat and choke me. Something simple, practical, that didn't feel or look like a straitjacket. After all that, I found one single, solitary style that I could imagine wearing for more than 90 seconds. One. Needless to say, it came home with me.

And I have to say, after years of those not-so-great sports bras, and the cumulative effects of gravity....put my gals in a well-fitting bra, and my word! They're so perky! It's kind of funny. I keep looking down and - whoa! Where did those come from?! I'm feeling quite pleased with myself.

(Mr.Q, in his infinite wisdom and sensitivity, commented: "You'd better be careful, you might put somebody's eye out with those things." Stinker.)

Keep it simple, silly!

I've become quite the little housewife lately...dishes are done regularly, Mr.Q's lunch is packed for him, the veggies in the fridge stand a better chance of being used up before they get...interesting. I'm getting a bit more creative in the kitchen - last night we had a kick-ass tamale pie (Moosewood recipe); tonight will probably be asparagus soup, since it's cold and yucky out again. (And the asparagus needs to be used pronto)

The apartment is slowly (but perceptibly!) getting tidier, as I sort through piles and shelves...today, I even dusted! Also, as I go, I find I'm getting rid of a lot of stuff. It's quite liberating. We've taken a several loads to the thrift store over the last couple of months, and I've got another one started. Today, for example, as I was putting dishes away, I had to just stop and look at what I was doing. Then I went to get a box, and I loaded it up with dishes. There are two of us here. Two. How many different matching sets of 4 dinner plates do we need? The answer is not three sets, plus a few odd ones out.

The tidier it gets, the easier it is to keep it that way...and the more I want to. Mind you, it will never be a Martha Stewart model in here...there's only so much one can do in a small, 2-bedroom apartment with hundreds of CDs, records, and books. Not to mention the growing yarn stash, and the dozen or so musical instruments! When it's chaos, it bothers me. But as long as there's some kind of method to the madness, I can't say I mind a bit of clutter when it's made up of music, literature, yarn...creative stuff.

The trick, of course, is implementing the method. Made more challenging by Mr.Q's OCD hoarding genes...he's definitely his parents' child there! (So much so that he once wrote me a song called "My Husband's a Pack Rat." The chorus simply repeats "books and records and records and books" over and over.)

Getting rid of superfluous stuff, like the dishes today, helps. A lot. Simplifying. It's a question of what's truly important. Guitars? Absolutely! Enough dinner settings for a hockey team? Not so much. Simplification - more challenging than multiplication, and so much more satisfying to learn!

One of the other projects I'm working on is applying that to transportation...and getting rid of the van. We don't really need it in the city; we hardly drive it. Not to mention the cost of feeding the greedy beast! Besides public transit, there are a couple of different car co-ops we could join. The trick is persuading Mr.Q, since it's his baby. But as the van is currently in the shop getting a new fuel pump...well, I think he's a bit closer to being convinced.

'Nuff rambling. Time to go start that soup....

Testify!

What Franklin said.

love (1,000,000+)

Bits and Bobs

WWKIP day was rather more adventuresome than expected...but lots of fun all the same! A half-dozen of us met up at one end of the Skytrain, planning to ride out to the end and back, about 90 minutes' travel, then have lunch with another group. The outbound trip was relatively uneventful - if you don't count all the looks, comments, and conversations we got. (One particularly colourful character told "us ladies" to "have fun with our sewing". Which was especially funny coz there was a guy in our group.)

The trip back, though, was interrupted about halfway through by a "medical emergency" at one of the stations on our route, so the trains were all stalled for quite awhile. Eventually, we were told that we could only take the train so far, then we could catch a bus that would circumvent the station in question, where we could re-board. Unfortunately, there were rather a lot of other folks in the same boat. Or, rather, the same bus.

So, we decided to backtrack on the train instead, thinking that we could find lunch somewhere along the way. And maybe by the time we were finished, the trains would be running again. We stopped at a more or less random station, found a lovely fountain (and briefly pondered jumping in, but the security guard on duty seemed to think we might be up to no good, and was watching us rather closely)

We were directed to an odd-yet-charming little cafe called the "Fireside Cafe House of Cheesecake" - which looked more like a combination of a greasy spoon and a Legion hall or something. But it turned out to be quite tasty, and the owner was really sweet. We did not eat lunch here:

(Mmmm! Used deli sandwiches! My favourite! Somebody badly needs a copy editor)

The trains were still out of whack, so we rode as far as we could together before parting ways...ending with more of a fizzle than a bang. But it was still fun...and of all the people stuck on the trains, we were the happiest - we had our knitting!

Yesterday was just as lovely...a puttery day that involved several outings in the sun. (I'd like to feel virtuous about all the walking, but the truth is, the van is still dead, so there really wasn't a choice!) I spent the morning poring over cookbooks and making up a shopping list. I am so tired of eating the same things over and over. And it's getting too warm to eat heavy meals of pasta and stuff. I wanted new ideas, with lots of fresh veggies and not too much time on the stove. We have a gas stove, which I love cooking with - and which makes it pretty warm in here. Not the best for summer cooking.

I may have got a little carried away, as our grocery bill was quite a bit more than usual...gulp. But worth it, I think. Dinner tonight was so good - pizza on whole wheat flatbread, with mushrooms, artichoke hearts, asparagus, tomatoes, caramelized onions, feta, and mozza:

For breakfast today, I had a smoothy with blueberries, banana, yogurt (from a local dairy - they do this plain organic yogurt with just a hint of honey blended in - YUM!) and pomegranate juice...mmmmmm!

(And really, I'm only telling you about it because I wanted to take a picture of one of my fabulous new Ravelry pint glasses...I got pins, too, and a Bob sticker...what fun!)

And before you get all impressed with my virtuous/gourmet new menu - I had lunch at Taco Time today. I was at the mall, looking for new shoes. It's surprisingly hard to find a simple, plain pair of skateboarding shoes. I find them the most comfortable for city walking, and I desperately needed a new pair. As in, my old pair had holes in the holes - and holes in the soles, which meant lots of rocks in my socks. Not fun. (But apparently I'm channeling Dr. Seuss, and that is fun!)

Almost everything I looked at today had big logos in neon colours - and I am, like, so totally not going back to that; I've already survived the '80s once! - or they had cutesy pink camo prints or something. Gag me with a spoon! It took me about 3 hours, but I finally found a workable pair. I probably haven't voluntarily spent that much time in a mall since the '80s, either. Thank FSM for that gin and tonic I brought home the other day! Otherwise I'd be pulling my hair out. Or attempting that claw thing with my bangs again. And that much hair spray would be a fire hazard.

There will be a quiz on Friday....

By now, you've prolly all figured out that my family isn't exactly "normal" - at least, not by the Cleaver white-picket-fence, Better Homes and Gardens standard. And I like it just fine like that: quirky, interesting, challenging, never dull...and full of valuable life lessons. Including, in honour of Father's Day, just a few of the priceless nuggets of wisdom and experience from my Dad, who has taught me....

*how to change a tire

*how to use power tools

*how to knit (with pencils and string)

*how to apply eyeliner

*how make scars and attach fake hair using Speed-sew

*that men can wear tights in public, too. Even pink ones.

*how to stand in the spotlight

*how to operate the spotlight

*how to properly project my voice

*to S-L-O-W D-O-W-N and ee-NUN-see-yate

*to put a red lens on a flashlight to use backstage

*how to be a good passenger on a motorcyle

*it's not the size of the Leatherman that's important; it's how often you use it

*how to pitch a tent

*that Leonard Cohen, The Band, Robert Service, and Shakespeare are really cool

*that duct tape holds the universe together

*the true-to-life versions of Mother Goose:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the King's horses and all the King's men
Had scrambled eggs for breakfast

and my favourite:

Mary had a little lamb
Her father killed it dead
Now Mary brings her lamb to school
Between two hunks of bread

There's lots of other stuff, like how to write effective letters to the editor, and how the solar system is like fruit...but I have to save something for next year!

(But, ummm....Dad? I'm kinda glad you were wrong about the whole spinach-putting-hair-on-my-chest thing. Nothing personal. But the toes are enough.)

Love you, Daddy-O!

Taking my schticks (and string!) on the road

I am awake far earlier than I should be on a Saturday. Especially for someone whose (pickled) husband called at 4:30 am to say he was trying to catch a bus home, but he'd actually missed the last night bus, and so his Saintly Wife got dressed to drive down and get him but the van wouldn't start so he had to take a cab but he didn't have any cash so his SW ended up sitting outside with cab fare until he got home and by the time she got back to sleep it was after 5:30...and no, she's not bitter that he's still sleeping while she's trying to make coffee and get functional.

(Holy shades of Meryn Cadell, batman!)

Truth be told, she really isn't bitter. She's so tired that she's about to burst into fits of giggles, actually. Today is like Christmas, only without the stinky dead fish! (Or the presents, but that might change, depending on proximity to yarn stores....)

Today is the High Holy Day of my people, and I am hauling my arse out of bed, and even out of the house, to celebrate appropriately. It's World Wide Knit in Public Day, and I'm out the door to join a flock of Ravelers to celebrate. We're going to ride the Skytrain out to the end of the line and back. Possibly twice.

I have my favourite knit socks freshly washed and ready to wear. With sandals. Today, I get a fashion law exemption. (Not that it would stop me anyway, but today there will be a mob of us, all armed with pointy sticks. Keep that in mind, any who feel faint at the prospect of all those sock feet in sandals...prowling in flocks all around the world...heheheheheheheheh)

Onward ho!

Note to self...

Check the mirror before leaving the house!

One item on my to-do list today was to go to Mountain Equipment Co-op (I am so Canadian!) for some new hiking boots. I want to go play outside a little more, and need some decent footwear (ie: waterproof!) to do so.

As I was getting dressed, I thought I'd wear a black t-shirt that looks especially sporty with my comfy cargo pants...get into the hiking theme, that kind of thing. So, I put my black bra on. But the t-shirt had dryer lint all over it - had to change it. Chose a cream-coloured tee instead. Looked great with the pants.

I didn't even think to change my bra.

Then, I had eggs for breakfast. They spit at me, yolk all over the table. (And yes, I did look to see if they got me - I didn't see anything.)

I went to MEC and spent a good hour in the shoe department, where a very helpful young man assisted me in trying on about 17 pairs of boots. I finally picked one out, he helped me find the appropriate protective goop for them, and I left feeling quite satisfied. So much so, that I decided to go across the street to Michaels and just see what kinds of crafty goodies might be on sale. A good call, it turned out: dishcloth cotton yarn was on sale for $1/skein. While there, all the coffee from breakfast started to catch up with me, so I headed for the ladies' room. With the big mirror.

Cream-coloured shirt and black bra? Not such a good combo. Add breakfast to the tee, and I'm just lucky the fashion police didn't taser me on the spot.

(Oh, wait, sorry - it's just the RCMP that do that. I mean, I'm lucky the FP didn't forcefully wax my eyebrows on the spot. Thankfully, my toes were hidden...)

I was so traumatized, I had to stop on the way home and get myself the fixings for some gin-and-tonic as a consolation prize.