2.14.2024

mutually assured suffering...

 if i had to describe our lives together, it would be in three phrases. 

encouraging foolishness... because it was with him that i discovered that there is so much joy to be had when you allow yourself to indulge in the ridiculous things in life. 

there is always a story to tell... even in the littlest things.

but, above all else, there is the unending game of mutually assured suffering... because that is how you show you care. 

i was minding my own business, when he made the mistake of asking what i was doing, so i responded with an unsolicited lecture on the botany of nasturtium seeds.

i explained that they usually grow in clusters of three seeds...

but they may not all get pollinated or mature consistently, so you end up with some interesting groupings, which is what i was documenting when he strolled in.

have i mentioned that we are both forever-children? 

he stood there, bored out of his skull, while i went on about Mendelian Genetics... then i saw the look in his eyes. i knew that there was some form of payback to come. he picked up one of the unevenly-matured seed clusters.

him: this reminds me of the movie Basket Case. we should watch Basket Case.

me: or... we should not. that works too.

him: i just listened to your thing, so now it's my turn. we're gonna watch Basket Case.

me: you're gonna make me watch some crappy b-movie... just to get even with me for boring you with tmi about nasturtiums.

him: yep.

me: you're gonna make both of us sit through some uber-cringe movie... because of a handful of seeds. 

him: yep.

so we did. then we followed it up by watching Basket Case 2... and 3... in the same evening. i may have also added a few more British shows with lots of old people to the list of things he will be watching in the Future, when i get subjected to an unsolicited review of the life of Macho Man Randy Savage (or some equally ridiculous thing). then it is my turn to select the method of mutually assured suffering.

2.13.2024

how commerce was invented...

this was one of the finished (but never shared) posts i mentioned. i honestly do not recall even writing it, but i am happy that i did. reading it now reminds me of a bit of (wholly unsolicited) advice i received back when i was turning thirty (really wish she was around when i turned forty). it went something like this:

your thirties are when you stop worrying about people around you, and realize that it is okay to own your own crazy. the best part is when you find yourself surrounded by people who are willing to share their crazy with you. you can sit down to laugh and talk together, each person doing their own crazy thing... and that is totally okay. 

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there are a few reasons why i make note of so many ridiculous conversations i have with the animator. sometimes it is the absurdity of what passes for adult conversation around here. sometimes it is relevant to whatever nonsense i plan to talk about. but, sometimes it is for purely preemptive purposes. i am just gathering evidence for when i i have to explain to a Judge and Jury that he had it coming. [and, just like that... i will be humming 'Cell Block Tango' for the rest of the night, which always makes him understandably concerned.]  

this time around, the provocation (nice legal term there) involved a series of conversations over three consecutive days. it began when he got off the phone with one of the people working on the series he is directing...

him: that was [beekeeper guy]. he asked if you needed more honey, so i said we were good for now. then he asked if we were using it, and i told him yes. we use it in tea and sometimes in cooking, and that you used some of it in the soap you just made.

me: oh, for fu... what did i tell you about telling people about this stuff? he's gonna think i'm some kind hippie who makes her own soap.

him: he was all excited. he loves that kind of stuff. i told him you'll trade him some of your soap for more honey.

me: great! i'm trading soap for honey. that's one step closer to smelling like patchouli and living in a commune. 

the next day...

him: i was just talking to [another animator]. he asked if we were watching anything for Halloween, so i told him we were doing werewolf movies this year.

me: uhm... ok.

him: he asked if American Werewolf in London was on the list, and i told him it was, but we'll probably skip that one because i've seen it so many times, and you watched it with me a couple times already.

me: ok.

him: then he suggested Ginger Snaps, and i told him that you refuse to watch it because it's about teenagers. i told him that you don't like stuff about teenagers and all their teenage problems and teenage drama. i told him you mostly watch stuff with old people. 

me: what the...?

him: then he joked that you probably like Matlock, so i told him that you do. and Murder She Wrote, and a bunch of British shows with old people, like Last of the Summer Wine and Dad's Army and that sort of stuff. 

me: why??? why are you telling people stuff like this about me. now they think i'm a soap-making hippie who's obsessed with old people. 

him: well... it's true, right?

then i just walked away, before i was overcome by the urge to end him. i wake up a day later, and what is the first thing he says to me?

him: i just forwarded you something that [yet another animator] sent for you. 

me: uhm...?

him: it's about dyeing yarn with mushrooms.

me: seriously... you need to stop having these conversations about me with other people?  

him: are you kidding? he was excited to share this with you. he's all about mushrooms. he goes foraging for them, and he has tons of books all about mushrooms.

me: great. so now they think that i'm a soap-making hippie who dyes yarn with mushrooms while watching shows about old people. good grief!

him: look, you gotta understand that they love that sort of stuff around here. in their eyes, you're amazing.

then he paused briefly before adding...

him: in my eyes... you're insane. 

any. day. now. already got my 'statement to the Court' ready to go and everything. 

me: Your Honor... i betcha you would have done the same!

 and, yes... i traded the beekeeper some of the soap i made (with honey from his hives) for more honey. doesn't everyone have a honey guy?

i did warn him that this was a particularly exfoliating batch, as it included a generous amount of rolled oats. i believe in a good hard scrub in the shower, or why even bother, right? just talking about homemade honey-oat soap here. 

note the difference between the freshly-cut piece (left) and the dried out bit from the edge (right). the drying will continue through the curing process (about two months), resulting in a lighter color overall.

it is hard to tell from this angle, but i made wayyy too much of the stuff. 

i had to take a break and pry my fingers away from the pastry cutter long enough to relax my hand. 

finally, it was done. seriously... what was i (over)thinking when i made this much soap? i am convinced that 'trading overstocked crazy' is how commerce was invented. prove me wrong!

2.12.2024

you are not reading this...

i sat down one day, and tallied up all the posts i either started and never finished, or finished and never posted over the past few years. thirty-six! the number was thirty-six (because i can hear you asking). it might be thirty-seven, if you are not reading this.

as the (second) most uptight person i have ever met, i can say with complete sincerity that it is difficult to 'look on the bright side' when everything feels so... well... complicated. there were a few bright spots that i would still like to share, like this one from last year.

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i took this photo on a whim one day, and i am extremely glad i did.

we were heading out on a lengthy road trip, when we did the one thing that is required by law before getting on a Candian highway... we stopped off to get a couple Iced Capps and a box of TimBits. that is when i made a casual comment about the grapevine that had overgrown the neighboring yard. then i started squinting. something had caught my attention. do you see him?

of course, his name is Gary. 

so, we got our snacks, got back in the car, and off we went. i might have even said goodbye to Gary... just because. so long, Buddy!

four-ish hours later, we pull over at a rest stop for the only break of the long trip. the animator took off for the restrooms, while i was still climbing out of the car, struggling to regain circulation in my legs. then i almost fainted.

the animator returned shortly, only to find me sitting on a large rock, staring at the wooden fence, and shaking my head. 

him: what's the matter with you?

me: it's happening again...!

then i pointed to the snail, and we both broke out laughing. 

people getting in and out of nearby vehicles definitely thought we were insane, but they would be laughing too if they understood.

i am a card-carrying Science geek who does not believe in spirits, magic, and all that other nonsense... but i find it most fascinating that we encounter some sort of ridiculous déjà vu moment every time we go on long trips. 

like the time we were driving to an airport in NY, and got stuck behind a pickup full of chimney-sweep brushes. not exactly something you see everyday. still, there it was, in front of us for the whole drive to the airport. then we got off a plane several states away, and took a taxi to the hotel. naturally, the taxi was stuck in traffic the whole way... behind a pickup full of chimney-sweep brushes. 

so... you know... not exactly superstitious, or anything. but, willing to consider the possibility that the Matrix gets glitchy every now and then. prove me wrong!





2.11.2024

clockwork murder in the orange hour...

i need to sign up for some sort of non-dating service where you can meet people in your area who possess very specific knowledge and interests. in my case, i am in need of someone who either knows way too much about the habits of Montreal crows... or, who is willing to be my designated driver for a couple hours a day, while i hang out a car window, trying to track them in flight. 

but, before all of that... i made the mistake of hoping that it would be a sunny day, until the animator opened the curtains. 

me: why is it so... gray?

him: it's not that bad.

then he leaned forward to look at something down at street level, made a noise, then instantly assumed the universally-understood tone of voice that is reserved expressly for delivering bad news.

him: you know that orange work sign across the street?

me: uhm... yeh...?

him: well... the orange is gray

then i sighed and pulled the covers back over my head. 

why are we even talking about this, you ask? because i can talk about whatever the hell i want, for a start. but, mostly, because i found myself sat cross-legged, staring at the sky today, wondering if "it" was going to happen. 

twice a day, weather permitting, the sun reaches the perfect elevation in the sky to send all of its lovely rays streaming (horizontally) through our place. we call it "the orange hour". the sunrise orange hour is usually the more subtle of the two, as there are only a couple windows on that side of the building. 

the sunset orange hour, however, is a thing of indescribable beauty. the SW wall is more glass than bricks, and the whole place just glows. the color is amplified by the terracotta colored walls in the living and dining rooms. it is like sitting cross-legged on a sofa... inside of an active volcano. 

the "hour" lasts only a few minutes in the Winter, but we get Snyder Cut orange hours come Summer. and this happens twice every single day. 

there is also the other thing that happens twice every single day. right after the sun rises and again before it sets, the skies over Montreal become some sort of HOV lane for a large murder of crows. twice every single day, like clockwork, they head SW in the morning, and they take the return flight back, just as the sun threatens to set. 

i just really want to know where they are going, and i might even have to risk making a new friend if that will finally bring me some answers. 

so, there i was this afternoon, sipping my hot beverage and catching up with Norbert. (s)he had stopped by for a snack of stale tortilla chips and puddles of melted ice water. i kept glancing up from my screen, hopeful that the depressingly-overcast clouds would part just long enough for me to (literally) bask in the glow of sunset. 

however, it is still a cold, damp, gray Winter day here in Metropolis North, so i had to settle for clockwork murder in the orange hour... and, of course, the orange was gray. le sigh!

Norbert took off when the evening commute started, lest the crows get any funny ideas. so, i just carried on sipping my beverage, and enjoying the antics of the passing forms. they do not exactly fill the whole sky, but there is a steady ribbon of crows that follow the same path always, and it goes on for anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour... or more. and this happens twice every single day, unless we are experiencing a storm of some type. 

there are always a few stragglers, flapping extra hard to catch up with the rest of the murder. 

in the Summer, the shapes of crows would be displaced by silhouettes of bats heading out for an evening hunt... which is usually my signal to go inside. maybe i need to make two friends with special interests, because i also really need to know where those bats hang out all day. 

2.10.2024

Muppets would be homeless...

i woke up from a dream about witches flying around a massive kitchen on broomsticks, competing in a cooking show. the 2024 season of Great British Menu—my absolute fave of all the 'Great' shows—is underway. i may have also just recovered from a two week stretch without a single sunny day by rewatching all the films in a certain magical franchise. 

speaking of potters... we were sitting down to watch the latest episode of  The Great Pottery Throw Down, when i made an... uhm... uplifting discovery. they pot in Canada! boy, do they pot in Canada. so, we watched the very first episode of  The Great Canadian Pottery Throw Down

i was concerned that Seth Rogen's involvement in this was purely "vanity", but he actually really knows his stuff. he is also Seth Rogen... so it got interesting real fast. the contestants started working on items that reminded them of home, while the judges retreated to their backstage discussion area. this is when Seth reached back, to pull out a beautiful object that reminds him of the mountains back home. naturally, it is a bong

i almost died laughing.

this is the CBC. it is (largely) publicly-funded, like PBS and NPR back home in the States. because of that public funding, their programming (television and radio) is free for all to enjoy, and it (usually) falls under the heading of 'family viewing'... which is why my 'raised by Puritanical American television' mind melted. 

i could barely get the words out. i was laughing so hard. 

me: what??? you can't do this on publicly-funded tv! i don't even think you'd be allowed to do this on the major networks. definitely not during primetime. this would have to be on some kind of streaming service you're paying extra for. i am certain that if this happened on a regular family program back home...

then i paused to reflect on scenes of CDs being crushed, wine bottles emptied down drains, the near global shortage of duct tape because of a beer can... to name a few 'American overreaction moments'.  

me: yep... there would definitely have to be many rounds of Congressional hearings because of this pottery contest. Muppets would be homeless. 

then Seth proceeded to demonstrate how easily he crafts an ashtray specially designed for holding joints, and he set the contestants the challenge of making one of their own... then i just carried on laughing.