Decrepitude

3:58 a.m.

That's what time we got in last night. This morning. Whatever.

And I woke up at 8:00. Not because I had to, or wanted to, or even because the cats demanded it. Nope. No reason, just because. Ask me how impressed I was.

(Jel asked if I was about as happy as a wet cat, just pulled out of the washing machine. Understatement of the year, I think.)

Mr.Q doesn't do birthdays like most people. He books a club, invites a bunch of his musician friends out to play, puts up posters, and throws himself one hell of a party. I still haven't decided if I think it's weird or not, but it makes him happy. And people keep coming out - this is the third year in a row he's done this in Vancouver. (Let's not discuss the fiasco that was his 30th, some years ago, a mere 4 weeks after we'd first moved in together....sufficient cause for me to wonder what the bloody heck I'd gotten myself into....These days, he is far more restrained. Thank FSM.)

Last night was great - eight bands (eight! The sound guy was a little crotchety by the end, and I can't say I blame him!) All of them completely different, and all of them ranged from pretty good to frackin' fantastic. Lots of people out we hadn't seen in awhile, good conversation, many hugs (I like hugs!) It was a lot of fun, and Mr.Q enjoyed himself immensely. Which was, after all, the whole point of the exercise.

Of course, more than a few people bought him a birthday round, but he somehow remained heroically functional for most of the night. By the end, though, he kind of reminded me of a cross between Tigger, and Baloo from the Jungle Book. While I was sensible and moderate in my habits.

Which is why the irony of today is so, so bitter. He should be crippled with the after-effects, yet he's out and about, while I'm trying my darnedest to stay awake until at least 8:30.

The day was hardly a waste - we went out for brunch (lunch!). It was beautifully warm out. My sister came into town with her husband - stopping at IKEA for us en route, yay! - and we had a nice visit over coffee. Then Mr.Q and I went up Main Street so he could spend the birthday money that my mother & sister had given him for records. While he did that, I poked around in the yarn store, and picked up some bagels at Solly's.

(One of the guys at the record store was out last night, and gave Mr.Q a 2-for-1 deal on his records. Thanks. Thanks a lot.)

I'm just waiting for my chamomile tea to finish steeping...then I can start sleeping!

Happy Birthday to Q!

Happy Birthday, to you.
Oh, dear Mr.Q!
You look like a monkey,
& you kiss like one, too!

(A luuurve monkey, that is!)

Happy Day, my cat-loving, chin-on-head-tucking, expert-cuddling, bass-playing, mushroom-mocking, bathroom-cleaning, back-rubbing, wonderful Zimbu the Love Chimp!

Here's a pic of Mr.Q's new b-day socks, the yarn 'specially dyed by a certain Bunnie, in colours evocative of his grey tabby cat's belly; and then the belly in question:

And here's one of the Birthday Boy, in his natural habitat:

Insert Clever Title Here; I'm too tired to think of one

So. Easter Weekend. We got all extravagant and booked a cottage B&B for Friday and Saturday night. It was fabulous. Though the weather on the ferry over was deceptive:

Isn't that lovely? (Look at all the snow!) It was like that right until we got to the B&B. Then it was overcast and ucky the rest of the weekend. Which was OK, coz we ended up doing a lot more napping than anything else (and I do mean "anything else.") So we didn't miss much.

The cottage was part of a farm, and when we arrived, they sent us out with some carrots to meet some of the locals, while they put a breakfast basket together.

Then they sent us up the hill, where this sweet little cottage sat above everything.

Our closest neighbours were the emus. There were 3; two saucy females, and a lone male sitting on a nest.

They were very cool. They don't vocalize like other birds; they make a weird kind of drumming noise in their chests. We had long discussions as to whether the sound more closely resembled a djembe or a tabla drum.

(On a tangent: apparently some crazy scientist with too much time on his hands has managed to genetically modify emu eggs, and cross them with llamas! Gives "llama, llama, duck" a whole new meaning!)

There were several of these mascots roaming around, keeping everyone in line:

The best part was when the two dominant (or wanna-be dominant!) birds would start duelling at 4:30 a.m. And get the ducks and geese going. The emus would join in, too, with a drumbeat to complement the horn section. (We also drank a lot of coffee!)

A walk around the farm brought us past the chickens. Laying hens only - all the meat from the farm's butcher shop/smokehouse comes from elsewhere, so we didn't have to worry about whether we'd met our breakfast's cousins or anything. I think somebody forgot to tell the chickens that, though. They followed our every move (would have literally, I think, if not for the fence!), as a mob.

Or really, more like Borg chickens - all at once, moving together, cooing and bobbing their heads from side to side. It was actually quite creepy. I was afraid they would all zombify at night and peck us to death in our sleep.

When we weren't worried about fending off mutant zombie chickens, we each plowed through a pile of reading. (I actually only picked up my knitting once...while we were waiting for somebody on the farm with a pick-up truck and a tow rope...The van got stuck in the mud, and we had to get it pulled out. Didn't even phase the guy - I guess we're not the first to get stuck! - but I was mortified. "No, really, we aren't total city slickers!" They were very kind about it, though.)

We ate huge breakfasts, with fresh eggs and chicken-apple-ginger sausages, fresh-smoked bacon, and home-made preserves:

Mr.Q drank his cheap beer and read pulp fiction - Edgar Rice Burrough's Barsoom series. He was so into it, I started calling him "John Carter, Dishlord of Mars."

He wasn't amused. But I was, quite!

I had Bailey's in my coffee, and wine in the kitchen.

Saturday, we went out for dinner to Tuscany, where we had positively divine pizzas. I also had a milk chocolate creme brulee for dessert...dreamy!

Back at the cottage (with enough daylight left to back the van in and avoid the mud traps!), we were greeted by Charlie, canine ambassador extraordinaire. His favourite game, apparently, is playing tug-o-war with a stick twice his body length. Mr.Q was happy to indulge him.

I think both of them would have kept it up all night, if it hadn't been so cold. Mind you, we'd have done a lot of things if the weather was nicer: hike, lounge on the deck with ciders and books, eat dinner outside...I guess we'll just have to go back!

Poking around the island, we also saw llamas, pygmy goats, an amazing chocolate shop, a cool New-Age shop with a yurt for bellydancing classes, a kiwi trellis, and all kinds of other fun stuff. We've got another B&B booked in the summer, closer to the water...I'm quite looking forward to it! Meanwhile, we brought some of those chicken-apple-ginger sausages home with us.

But no zombie chickens. (Or emus, though I had to work pretty hard to convince Mr.Q that that would be a bad idea!)

Enough with winter, already!

I want spring! It should be spring...not only is it past the equinox - the cherries are in blossom, the daffodils are starting to come out, and the magnolias are just on the cusp of blooming. I know, I know. I live in Canada, we get Winter with a capital W here.

That's why I live in Vancouver, darn it all! So's I don't have to deal with Winter with a capital W.

So, why can't I get warm? (I could go put my hands on Mr.Q's back. That's always warm...heheheheheheh!)

In anticipation of warmer weather, we went out tonight and got ourselves real live bicycles. Second-hand, and mine's right from the '70s. I need an "Electric Company" t-shirt to wear while I'm riding it.

But first it needs to warm the frak up!

I still have to post pics from our weekend away. There were emus and zombie chickens. I'll leave you with that teaser, until tomorrow.

Bloody Hell. Literally.

I was going to post all about our lovely weekend away, complete with pictures to make you all jealous.

But I started catching up on my blog reading, first, and came across a reference to this in Rabbitch's latest post.

Suddenly the tasty sausages and the emus are ridiculously trivial.

Go, read, get angry, do something. And let me know if you have any brilliant ideas, coz I'm too upset to think beyond letters to my Member of Parliament, and my Prime Minister. Which I've written.

Do I have much faith that it will work? I dunno. But it's what I can do at the moment, so I've done it. And I've seen what can be done when a lot of people do their little bit. So please - however ineffectual it may seem, do your little bit. Write a letter, pass the link on, light a candle. Just do something other than keeping silent.

Run away! Run away! (Also: my 200th post!)

I was up a little too late last night to be awake this early. And I'm not even making coffee, coz I don't want to open a new bottle of cream, only to have it sit unused all weekend & then have to throw it away on Sunday. So I'm sucking it up for a little while longer, till I can justify hauling Mr.Q's arse out of bed and we can head for the ferry.

We've got books, knitting, guitars, and wooly socks packed up. Something other than pajamas for dinner at the fancy-shmancy Italian pizza place tomorrow. Cheese, chocolate, and fruit (in that order!). Rather a lot of sauce to go with the goodies.

(Difficult decision in the liquor store the other day: "Do I want wine, or Baileys...or wine-and-Baileys?" We went with the wine-and-baileys-and-strongbow combo for me, cheap crappy beer for Mr.Q. His choice. Don't ask me.)

I've got my comfiest pink flannel nightie packed - perfect for spending two days in - and a strong likelihood of crappy weather ahead of us. Which means no hiking (boo!) but more time for lounging, reading, knitting, napping, Advanced Cuddling (*ahem*), and generally doing Sweet F**k All (yay!).

We're both quite excited by the prospect of getting OUT of the city for a couple of days. Bowen Island is only 20 minutes by ferry, and you can see a good part of the mainland from the eastern edge of the island...So I was very careful to choose a cottage that was elsewhere, with no view of the city.

The last 3 months have been more than a little frenetic - the lead-up to releasing the new CD, the subsequent fall-out of the band's toxic implosion (with business arrangements yet to be dealt with from that, blech), and Mr.Q's new project: editorship of a new local music 'zine/paper/thingy. Very busy, often stressful, sometimes painful, more often rather exciting, and certainly never dull!

So a couple of days away are much-needed, and I'm awfully glad we've decided to do this, instead of being so "sensible" all time. Feh! Why not have a little fun once in awhile? I mean, it's not like the phone bill's going anywhere, whether we go away or not. So - what the heck! Onward Ho!

Have a good weekend! Miss me!

Kthxbye

Chewing chips and stealing wax, and malfunctioning underthings

Today was an interesting day. Tomorrow being a stat holiday, all three of my classes had tests today. It makes for a long day for everybody, but I tried to make it up to them by getting them hopped up on Easter chocolate.

(No pun intended, but now that I see it in writing, it amuses me, and so I'll leave it.)

One of the bags of chocolate I had brought was full of mini Reese's cups, all cutely wrapped in pastel-coloured tin foil. During the short break between afternoon classes, I thought a taste of chocolate would be just the thing to perk me up, as I dashed around, scattering papers and looking busy. I unwrapped it, and absent-mindedly put it in my mouth without really looking at it, thinking:

"Huh. I didn't realize they were dark chocolate Reese's. I wonder what they'll taste like."

Like paper, that's what. Like the little black paper cup that all Reese's come in. Duh.

Got through the rest of the afternoon OK, remembered some unfinished photocopying at the last minute (which would have been interesting, come class time on Tuesday!), and headed off to the bus only a quarter of an hour or so past my usual time. Not a bad start to a long weekend!

As I turned the corner onto the street where I catch the bus, there was one at the stop, about a half-block away. Shite! But somebody was standing at the door, talking to the bus driver - definitely worth running for it. So I did.

(To the lady texting while walking - I'm sorry I almost knocked you over when you weren't watching where you were going. My apologies.)

(Not.)

I got to the bus just as the driver was about to close the doors. Score! He gave me kind of a funny look as I got on, but some bus drivers are just odd like that.

I realized, as I sat down, that in my mad dash for the bus, one of my girls had jumped clear out of her moorings. Thankfully I was wearing a dark, solid T-shirt. Not nearly as dramatic a wardrobe malfunction as poor Janet had. Even so, it must have looked more than a little odd (and lop-sided!).

I'm just glad no innocent bystanders were injured.