For you, the dress code is casual.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Happy Quiet Birthday to Me

I don't know the last time I stayed home and was antisocial on my birthday, but it's sure fitting the bill tonight.

I've just cooked off some sweet wine chorizo sausage and I'm now caramelizing an assortment of veggies, a mirepoix with leek, to which I'll soon add homemade dark chicken stock, a couple ripe tomatoes, and some cannellini beans. I'll puree it all and add the sausage, and that's my down-home birthday treat on a stormy Saturday night.

Tomorrow the weather is also supposed to suck, but I have a bunch of things I want to do -- breakfast out with people, possibly a Film Fest movie or two, visit someone else, etc. I decided to keep the actual birthday day mellow after a week of sickness, et al, but since I *have* to brave the weather downtown to pick up my paycheque for rent, well, I might as well enjoy the town a little, too.

So, it's later. Muchos vino later, and I'm watching the first season of The Unit. Now, this is no JAG or NCIS... The Unit isn't exactly what you would expect when you sign up for a regular television military show. This one's a bit of a pleasant surprise. It's written by The Shield's Shawn Ryan and produced both by he and David Mamet. An unlikely team, at the least.

The writing's tight. The acting's led by Dennis Haysbert and Robert Patrick. It's solid from the ground up.

I like military stuff. Hell, anything from Platoon and Full Metal Jacket right through to From Here to Eternity and the Nuremberg Trials -- it all gets me going. I was reared on stuff like All's Quiet on the Western Front and Elie Wiesel's Night. I've always known who the bad guys were, and when the chips are down, it's the covert ops guys I expect to save my ass.

Heh. Hey, I grew up on Rambo, too. (My 11 year old nephew has now been indoctrinated into the cult of Rambo. Upon hearing that he'd be seeing his first-ever shoot-em-up Western, 3:10 to Yuma, and me explaining what a shoot-em-up Western would entail, aka a Brief History of John Wayne and Clint, he said, "But I bet Rambo would beat 'em". Why, sure, son... he's ARMY!)

Anyhow. Gonna watch some more. I consider this the anti-"my time of the month" movie marathon. Ooh-rah.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Bionic Woman

Holy shit! I just caught the first episode on tape just now. How much does this rock?! Tight writing, great acting, good editing. Perfect? Maybe not, but pretty fucking great! This is gonna be a fun TV season. Finally, good writing on more than just a couple networks. So far this year, it's looking like Dirty, Sexy Money, Bionic Woman, and Private Practice are the it-shows for me. But give it a couple weeks. Too early to pick favourites.

Bionic Woman, though, gets a free pass, man.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Mm, What is that Foul Stench?

Why, I think it's Eau de Sick.

My mother, rest her soul, could smell "sick" on me before I even knew it'd hit me. How dare the universe take my early warning system away? Now I have to wait until I actually feel sick before I know I'm sick. How cruel and surprising!

Ha. Well, she's on my mind. I've just pulled my fleece "I'm sick" sweater on and can smell that whiff of musty "someone must be sick" scent on it, and now she's stuck in my mind. But not in a bad way.

I'm making my INFAMOUS chicken stock tonight. I can't believe I've only been making chicken stock for a year-ish. I'm so damned good at it. Hardy-har-har. But, seriously, it's good stuff. I'm looking forwards to making some easy chicken soup after I get home tomorrow night. My boss has told me I'm off the hook for Friday and Monday, one day for getting over what ails me and the other for tying up loose ends at ye olde jobbie. (But I have a hot date with making an 18-bean and chorizo/chicken invent-a-soup this weekend. I think I'll put a blindfold on and just hurtle things into a pot and see how it tastes.)

So, this means I get a four-day weekend for my birthday weekend, but I don't expect I'll be up to a lot of hijinks... which is fine by me, I'm not feeling particularly hijinkish, with or without the illness. I was feeling more "must do MY shit for MOI" for the weekend anyhow, and I guess this just throws emphasis back on plan "A".

Hey, didja hear? Quotes are the new bold. Who knew?

I actually hate it when people over-use quotes. Makes me wanna bitch-slap 'em into some back page of The Chicago Manual of Style, but I was captioning a bunch of shows that had tonnes of quotes in 'em today. You know, rednecks who don't know how to say "say" and who instead say things like, "And I was like, "Bob, you don't mean that" and he was, "Yes, I do" ", and fun things like that.

I was also noticing some brief look at an article of late that pointed out how businesses are starting to put quotes around their names on their business signs, and just noticed my first such brilliant business awning tonight. And you put quotes there WHY? Because we didn't KNOW you made that shitty pun of a name up? C'mon! Fucking people, man. You gotta wonder what alien mind probe came along and extracted all their common sense, don'tcha?

Anyhow. As I was saying. I have chicken stock to finish, then my ass is getting introduced to this couch I know. I have a suspicion they're gonna hit it off famously and will be sleeping together before we know it. Just sayin'.

Have a better night than me, boys and girls.


This posting has been brought to you in part by...

The Colour Blue and Blogging -- It's cheaper than therapy!

Sunday, September 23, 2007

My Wicked Clay Pot Chicken, Yo

I'm taking a lazy day. I'm so tired. I've been working far more lately than any person ought to. I can't understand workaholics. It's all so wrong.

I'm watching Heroes. I've caught the last five episodes. Now I'm watching the bonus materials. I'm such a geek, but I don't mind. I was going to do a bike ride later but I'm just too tired. I'll do some relaxation yoga instead and a walk around to the local shops. And maybe a nap. :)

I made a pretty great meal last night. I love being able to pat myself on the back when something comes together exactly as I expect it to. So very A-Team/Hannibal. I love it when a plan comes together.

So, then. Steff's Would-Be Peasant Claypot Chicken. I thought about what I wanted to do for Saturday's dindin Friday night, and it occured to me that a few ingredients might combine beautifully and easily. Here's how it all played out:

1 4-lb chicken, rinsed and salted inside and out
1 lb of itty bitty onions, like cippolinis and pearl and silverskins, peeled
2 heads of garlic, loose papers peeled and inner skin intact
1.5 lbs of washed, whole fingerling potatoes with peels intact

Put the onions and garlic on the bottom of a terra cotta clay pot. Put the prepared chicken over top. Pour potatoes around the chicken and tuck into cavities, etc. Take a large bunch of fresh tarragon, rinse well, and tuck 1 or 2 stalks into various spots, between potatoes and so they reach the bottom of the pot. I had tarragon tucked in about seven spots, plus about 4 or 5 stalks stuffed into the bird's chest cavity.

Combine 500 ml of a dry white wine, like a sauvignon blanc, with 1 tablespoon burgundy mustard (dijon-ish but stronger and more tart) and 1 tbsp grainy mustard, as well as 1 tablespoon fresh green peppercorns (sold bottled in brine in Italian specialty shops, about $2 for a good-size bottle, which you then refrigerate) and a tablespoon sea salt. Mix well. Pour over potatoes, cover the clay pot with its top, and bake in a pre-heated 350 oven for 2 hours.

When there're 20 minutes to go, throw a 1/2 lb peeled young carrots with a 1/2 lb of prepared green beans onto the top of the chicken and potatoes, cover again, and finish cooking for the last 20 minutes.

Remove from oven, sit covered on the counter while you warm up some crusty bread for sopping up the litre of good chicken-infused white wine. Yum. :)

So, Marcel Marceau died... that mime guy.

I wonder if mimes have last dying words or if they just flail their arms dramatically or something.

Anyhow, one of the coolest bio pictures ever, this.

I dressed as a mime once for Halloween but couldn't pull it off because I talk so much, so I modified it and became Charlie Chaplin instead, waddling like he did. Fun stuff.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Fuckin' technology... and something about food

I'm pissed off at the world because it's going on four fucking days that my blog has been unable to post new stuff and I've written a few things, but my readers probably think I'm slacking. I really want to bitch-slap webhostingcanada into next century, but I'm hoping they can remedy things today at least, or else I'm switching to a new hosting co next week. FUCK this.


I have someone coming for dinner, possibly a couple people, but people suck ass at RSVPing, apparently. Whatever. I know I have one person coming and I'll just deal with it.

I'm actually looking forward to it, I'm just angry about my blog. I'm kind of excited because I'm going to take a total risk and invent a dish tonight, and not test it out beforehand or anything. Baptism by fire, baby.

I'll be making a claypot chicken, but I've decided to just totally go bravely into the unknown and completely make up a dish. Not improvise, though. I've thought this out. It'll be pearl onions, lots of garlic, fingerling potatoes, tarragon, white wine, fresh green peppercorns, "some kinda dijon", and baby carrots, all baked together with a chicken in a clay pot. I think it should be pretty decadent. When I bake my bread after, I plan to take the pot's juices, reduce them on the stove, and add just a dash of creme fraiche or something at the end to mellow the garlic/onion flavours and finish it off nicely. Serve with cristy Ecco Il Pane bread and all should be pretty blissful. A nice early fall stew-type thing.

I hope. :)

If it all works out, I'll post my recipe later. Pretty stoked. This should be nice. Time to start enjoying cooking again. I'll only be working 7 or 7.5 hours a day, so I'll have time to exercise and eat, not to mention I'll have energy. My return to the Slow Movement begins this week -- real food, real life, real time to myself. Real priorities. Never again do I become consumed by work. Or at least not for long. I hope. :)

Friday, September 21, 2007

Matt Good Review-Type Thing

So, I saw Matt Good's acoustic show at The Centre last night. Matt stripped everything down to just his patent vocal stylings and his acoustic guitars. He played a few tracks from his new release, which I'll definitely be paying money for (might as well support one of the few artists who really has something compelling to say, eh?) as well as doing his take on a number of classics from his early years, with the lion's share being from one of my favourite albums of '99, Beautiful Midnight.

The lighting annoyed the shit out of me, though. It was lighting done by someone who clearly doesn't often do the lighting in auditoriums of that size and shape. For the entire second half of the gig, I had thousand-watt bulbs shining directly in my eyes. Not just at me -- directly in my eyes. Thanks, Lighting Guy. Nice work. Seriously, for about 6 songs in a row.

Then there's the hearing issue. I wear hearing aids, and Matt's got this incredible "we're all in it together" mentality about gigs and will invariably open a dialogue with the crowd every fucking time he plays. It's awesome. He's witty, sharp, well-versed, and about the most articulate rock guy you'll probably ever encounter. Hence why his blog has consistently been in the top 50 Canadian blogs for years now. So, when he's chatting up an audience, be fully prepared for how outspoken and opinionated he is, and dust off your Webster skills 'cos boy's got vocab.

But, me, like I say, I wear hearing aids. Turns out the design of the Centre makes it very good at echoing shouts. Matt, moody sardonic guy that he is, is Mr. Mumbler. Loves to do his low, throaty monologues. Means I miss half of what he says, sadly, and you throw in the reverb of the audience and the odd bright guy's shouts at Matt and you get a pretty muddled auditory pot.

Still, it wasn't all lost on me. He clearly was inspired by the ludicrous $15 "event parking" opposite the Centre and managed to rant for a while about that in his ironic and cute kind of way, stating that without him there'd be no event and yet he doesn't get a cut, before setting into another BM track, then stopping his strumming and reiterating "But I don't get a cut." Guess you had to be there, but it became the running joke of the evening, not getting a cut. It's the kind of unrehearsed gold that makes concerts worth the wait and expense. It's a beautiful thing.

So, some negatives to the evening, but I'm glad as hell I went, thanks to GayBoy's birthday gift. Matt's the original classic alt-rocker, but he's much more than what it seems. He's original, outspoken, political, interested in the world at large, and really has killer vocals that fill a beautiful theatre like The Centre. Man, did his vocals work that room. Throw in the haunting, stripped-down acoustic feel, and I'd say it was probably one of the more memorable concerts I've attended, in pretty rare air like shows like The Kills, the first real time I saw Wil, Santana, U2, the Stones 'cos they're the Stones, the Hip at Seabird Island, Ben Harper, hmmm.... Ed Harcourt's experimental Dick's solo performance (harmonica, upright piano, silly old acoustic guitar, and Ed Harcourt? Priceless), Grant Lee Buffalo at the Starfish Room (RIP), BRMC... yep. It's up there with some pretty good gigs.

Pity I forgot my camera.

And the t-shirt of the night award went to the guy wearing the one that said this:

"A city
built on rock and roll
would be
structurally sound."

BTW, the highlight of the gig was when Matt dedicated a Simon and Garfunkle cover, Keep the Customer Satisfied, that was about as infectious and fun as a track can be. Nice work, Matt. Great, great rendition there, and I could see by the heads bopping and smiling faces that I wasn't the only one pleasantly surprised in the middle of this moody gig. (C'mon, the new album's called "Hospital Music" and is all about his evil ex who was in it for the dough and his rehabbing his divorce, a record of him licking his wounds. Needless to say, the evening had a somewhat sombre tone, excepting his often-hilarious "repartee" in between tracks.)

About fuckin' time.

I've been saying for years that the lack of parity between the Canadian and American bucks was ridiculous. I couldn't understand how our economy apparently sucked THAT much that the Yankee buck was outshining ours by 50%.* Yesterday, all that changed when we finally saw the Canadian dollar flirt with parity for a while. They say we're officially gonna surpass the American dollar, and any day now.

I'm very, very happy about this. It'll take a long time for our economy to put it into effect 'cos lord knows we're still paying far higher than we ought to with books and other things -- as our sticker prices are higher than the Yanks, but our time's a comin'.

And why the fuck not? Not only are we an oil-producing country -- the second largest oil reserves in the world, second only to the Saudis -- but unlike our Saudi friends, we also have 1/3 of the world's fresh water and its largest stores of grain.

Need crude for your car to go? Talk to Canadians. Need something to quench that thirst of yours? Talk to Canadians. Want some grain for that bread you so dearly love? Talk to Canadians. We got it all, baby.

About fucking time we're being seen as the commodity-rich nation we are, and about fucking time our dollar regain the strength it once had.

Probably also about fucking time that George Bush admit he's losing far more than just one war.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Colour My World

I want to paint. I'm officially in the mood for change. The colours? Heh heh. Well. I'm glad you asked.

The kitchen will be saffron yellow. The living room and dining area will be a warm lavender-ish. The hallway and alcove will be cranberry. The primary colour in my bedroom will be sage green (with chocolate accents). The bathroom will be Caribbean sea blue/tealish.

It sounds really outlandish but I have a hunch all these colours play into each other really well. And, let's face it, I'm not often wrong about paint colours.

I want something dynamic yet uplifting. Colours that bounce light well and add drama and fun to their surroundings. I want something that, like the ones I've lived with since 2002, isn't gonna bore me for about a good five years. It needs to be the kinda mix where I'm going to feel less like a prisoner of my own device when it's raining 24 of 30 days a month from January to April, y'know?

But I'm gonna do it one step at a time, not wholesale change. I'm not married to the group yet, though there are a couple colours I don't think I can do without. Rich. I'll make sure they're all rich, and good quality paint. Nothing like trying to get pizzazz and then saying $20 a gallon's your top price. Yikes.

Gonna be a long winter. Me loves a project. :)

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Damn you, Virtumonde, and Dinner

My computer is dying a slow death.

It needs an upgrade.

Luckily I have some spare change this month.

Next weekend: Chicken Pot Pie and the Repair of the Computer. Praise the lord.

This minimum-functionality thing is overrated. And despite all the grief Facebook appears to be giving me, tonight it looks like it might all be worth the while. Wouldn't that be nice? :)


I cooked again last night. I shared the leftovers tonight with Whipped Boy and Wife. They liked! Lots. It was easy, too. Something like this:

Squeeze the sausage out of the casings of three Italian mild sausages. Shape into 1" round meatballs. Saute until cooked. Reserve.

Render 1/2 cup diced pancette until halfway to crisp. Add 1/2 cup chopped onion, 1/2 cup each of yellow, red, and green onion. Saute 5 minutes. Add 4 cloves minced garlic. Saute 1 minute. Add 5-6 chopped tomatoes, simmer for 2 minutes. Add 2 cans of rinsed -- borlotti, lima, or cannellini beans, or any 2 mixed -- and saute a couple minutes. Add "meatballs", 1/4 cup tomato SAUCE (use one of those resealable bottles from the real Italian shops), 1 tbsp tomato paste, 1/2 cup red wine, and simmer for up to 10 more minutes. Add 1/2 cup chopped basil right before you take it off the stove, then add 1 tbsp balsamic vinegar for kick. Serve with crusty bread and enjoy. :)

Friday, September 14, 2007

Sunny days... and dinner.

Which Sesame Street Character Are You?

You are Big Bird. You are something of an eccentric, and not everyone always gives you credit for your inventiveness and intelligence. You may not always know everything, but people turn to you for your sound, unique logic. Plus, you have a big heart. Really big.
Find Your Character @

For dinner: Steak. Problem: Ran out of gas upon ignition. No propane? No problem! Girl got stove. And a fancy-ass ribeye steak.

Seasoned with Montreal Steak Spice... if you're American, tough fuckin' luck. Yer missing out. Get thee some Montreal Steak Spice, and get it now. Anyhow. Seasoned with MSS after coating with a little olive oil, let sit for an hour, then seared it 2 minutes on high heat each side, and finished 4 minutes in a 400 oven. Remove, set the steak on a plate, cover, let rest for 5 or 10.

Take the pan, put on med-high heat, deglaze with about 1/4 cup or more of red wine. Allow to reduce for about 1-2 minutes. Throw 1 tsp basil-dijon mustard (or any herb-dijon mix, or grainy or plain dijon) into the pan, whisk in. Add any accumulated juices from the steak plate. Continue reducing another minute. Turn to med-low and let simmer till your steak is rested. Remove from heat and whisk in 1 teaspoon butter, and pour over your rested ribeye.

I took some fingerling potatoes and tossed em in sea salt and olive oil and roasted 'em whole, with skins, in a 450 oven for about 45 minutes or until crispy outside and fluffy inside. Man, the potatoes really soak up the sauce, too. It's nice 'cos it's not a creamy sauce. If, however, you have some whipping or coffee cream kicking 'round, substitute the wine with brandy and add about 2 tbsp cream instead of the butter. If you're all gluttonous, go ahead and add the butter but I think it's unnecessary. The dijon brandy-cream sauce is pretty standard in the good chef's repetoire. Great, great stuff. Must buy me some brandy. :)

PS: Montreal steak spice. Wow. The ingredients make it less tasty sounding, but believe me, if you're going to be eating anything chemical-ish in the next while, make it THIS!

PPS: Americans might be in luck after all! Thank fucking god for Free Trade, eh?! Here.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Peaches and Beets and Pickles... Oh, My!

So my dad's this canning fiend. Don't even try to talk to him in August. He's canning. Peaches, pickles, homemade salsa, you name it, Dad's probably just finished canning it. Beets. God knows there are beets.

Me, I've never canned. One of these days, I will, but given the coworker's mom just had a nasty incident with a pressure cooker and second-degree burns, I'm all pussy about the notion of pressure cooker canning.

But I just made freezer jam. Blueberry. With cinnamon. In 15 minutes, I'm having sourdough rye toast and blueberry jam. Giggle!

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Oh, Look, A Sunday

It's shaping into a Frank Sinatra kinda day. I'm keeping to myself after a demanding week. Cleaning up after neglecting things with 12 hour days this week.

Today's the first day of knowing it's the beginning of a new phase. It's nice. I'm writing more. I like this.

And tonight I'm going to cook, really cook, for the first time in a while. Trying something completely different. I'll be making creamy orzo with steamed vegetables along with honey-lemon claypot-roasted chicken. Sounds nice, doesn't it?

When I write, I cook, I listen to music, I slow down and watch more when I'm out in the world. I get an acute perception and have this knack of anticipating things. Everything clicks. It's not this way very often, but I feel it coming on again. And to top that off, it's looking like we've got an Indian summer this fall.

And my birthday's right around the corner. The older I get, the better I figure things out. I'm liking this age and experience thing. 34. The last year of the Coveted Demographic - 18-34. Ha. Bring on 35 to 44. Brave new horizons, I guess. But 40's the new 30 and all, so I'm not worried.

Cooking! Something new. I haven't used this clay pot in a couple of years. Maybe as many as four years. Honey lemon... and I'm throwing in some garlic, too. Garlic-lemon stuffed cavity. And steamed vegetables... well, I think I'll throw a little spaghetti squash in there, but roast it first.

Ah... Time to take a little more time to myself. Time to re-read In Praise of Slow: How a Worldwide Movement is Challenging the Cult of Speed. Life kind of got away from me in the recent months. I have come to really notice the distinction between living to work and working to live, and I never, ever want to be the former. Not if "work" means a 9-5 grind under bad lighting and constrictive management. I want to work only so much as I need to in order to live. For now, the goal is to be able to cut back to 30 hours of work a week. That'd be perfect. Three long days, more than 50% of my week belonging to little old me? Yeah, that's the ticket.

Right now, I want no responsibilities. I want only to have control over my lifestyle and a very, very clear line between my private world and work. Jobs should only extend so far. Or we should at least get to decide when they're going to encroach on the rest of our lives, y'know?

The interesting thing about this job scenario, too, the quitting and returning thing, is it's the first time in a few years I've really had control over what happened next. I quit. I pursued my old job and made the choice to return. I chose. I came to that proverbial fork in the road and chose what I wanted. Feels pretty fucking good, and it's hopefully setting the pace for all that's about to come.

Girl could get used to this.

Thursday, September 06, 2007


I'm not really a flower kinda gal. But now and then I see ones that wow me a little. Such as...

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Apple, You're a Cunt


Yeah, love that. Spend the big $699 on a phone and then a mere 10 weeks later, Apple slashes the price by $200 to bolster "holiday sales" on fucking LABOUR DAY? It's September! Holidays? FUCK OFF. I haven't even dealt with the fact that I'm 34 in 24 days, or that Thanksgiving is in five weeks, and now you wanna tell me to think about HOLIDAY SALES?

Christ! Like life's not moving fast enough without this speed-merchandising madness?

Oh, and I'm officially SO not buying anything when Apple's launching it. My 3-month "let the hype go far far away" rule just got written in stone. Fuckin' trendies. So materialistic. Snicker. Everyone point and laugh now.

And, geez, doesn't Steve Jobs look like a right twat in that photo? That photo's evidence of how photo editors get to editorialize their pieces. Like, for instance, Apple slashes prices by about 30% after 10 weeks on the market and the invisible thought-caption hanging over Steve Jobs' head with that expression probably reads "Well, yes, I might be an asshole, but I have stock options. And you paid the $200. Phone someone who cares."

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

i saw the sign, and itopened up my eyes... i saw the sign

so, i'm a big fan of "signs", eh? i like to look for symbolism in the itty-bitty happenings of this meagre existence of mine as clues of whether i'm headed in the right direction or just totally missing the target. you know, you get fired, probably a sign you're not working the right job, right? not like it's fucking rocket science.

every now and then, though, i start opting for the more obscure shit.

like when i had friends over last monday night. i'd taken out the trash earlier and happened to glance over and see a 5-foot tall standing antique wooden floor lamp standing next to a Dumpster in the back alley. ho! nice piece! needs rewiring and the varnish's patination has bubbled up like it had bad heat exposure once, and the bottom looks like it mighta withstood a flood 'cos it's all dark-like (i'm goin' CSI on a floor lamp... nice!) but it's still a plum piece. it's now my winter project. gonna strip it, sand it, and stain it, then rewire it, and THEN i'll have TWO antique wooden floor lamps. a lucky gal am i.

anyhow. the sign? well, it coincided with when i first really began to realize how unhappy i am at my job (despite enjoying the job itself... kills my will to write, and that i can no longer abide**) and that i kinda needed to walk away from my job.

so i had one really big sign: work called me on my vacation about something. old-fashioned i might be, but methinks vacations are something sacred. then, two, i "see the light"... literally, when i see this lamp in the alley.

personally, i enjoy the thought of it as some kinda signal of where i was going wrong. i'm gonna really savour that memory after i spend the months ahead turning it from a throw-away find into a must-keep treasure.

y'know, now that i'll start having time on my hands again. loves me a project. :) that it'll be worth some several hundred dollars once done doesn't hurt, neither.

PS: on an aside? keep the hourly pay, people. salary's just another way of saying "yer staying late this week". i'm just sayin'. hindsight 20/20 and all...

**but, WAIT, there's more! yer just dang wrong if you think that's all behind my recent departure. just gonna hafta wait now, ain't ya? [i'm getting all excited that 3:10 to Yuma's coming out this weekend and i'm gettin' all western or something. it's fun. ignore me. russell crowe AND christian bale! dude!]

Monday, September 03, 2007

You don't say...

Yeah, so I quit my job today.

More about that tomorrow or something. Two words: Fuckin' a.

Funnily, I check my horoscope on Facebook just now and find this:

Professionalism should be your main focus today. It is time to take the next step in your career and move a little closer to achieving your goals.

Well, okay then. Check.

But for any worrywarts out there, don't fret, sillies. I have a job lined up. Done and done. I'm rockin' this thing.

Recent Pics from Galiano Island

These are just a few pics from my truncated camping trip over on Galiano Island.

This is WhippedBoy's handy percolator. Gettin' arty on the morning campfire.

Thou shall not pass! The dog at the market.

A view from one of Galiano's great beaches. Proof it's good even in the parking lot.

Whatcha lookin' at, skippy?

The Galiano Market Cafe. Purty, no?

A man and his boat at peace.

Montague Harbour.

Our luxurious campsite.

More pics likely to come next weekend.