In here life is beautiful… The girls are beautiful…

One would think that living as close to Value Village as I do, that I’d spend a lot more time there than I do. But I don’t. It’s quite possibly the grossest VV I have ever had the misfortune of shopping in-all the clothes, literally, ALL the clothes are disgusting, dirty, ripped, full of crotch rot, bally sweaters, busted out shoes, I could go on and on. I don’t know what anyone finds there that’s worth it. And overpriced? Heck, yes. So when my inner VV clock started ticking on my way home the other evening, I knew I had to listen. It almost never makes a noise anymore. I went in thinking maybe yarn. Maybe.

But I did much better than that. First there was a bunch of my favourite kind of bedding, vintage floral silliness that you’d have found at your grandma’s cottage in 1978. It’s very specific, heavy, soft cotton that’s perfectly worn in. Score 4 pillow cases and a flat sheet that will potentially become patchwork quilts. Maybe.

And this, a perfect Spirograph kit. And to my extreme surprise and pleasure, it was absolutely complete, including the original pens (which, to be fair, don’t work anymore), all plastic pieces, instructions and a pad of blank paper. Amazing!

I did a couple the minute I brought it home. Ari’s quite intrigued, but I’ve made her promise to not touch it without my supervision. All this for $1.99 and that’s what I mean by good score.

Since I was tagged twice to do this, I figured I’d better get the ball rolling. Mostly I feel like my life is an open book so there won’t be much new stuff in here or any real surprises to anyone, but I’ll try.

(And the description of the process, from Ashley’s blog to help us understand:

“Shipley has hit honoured me with a blogging baton award.  Ms. Ship has a great blog herself where she often tells hilarious family tales and shares pictures of her gorgeous baby (who I am desperate to meet before she goes off to college).   Honest Scrap is blogger pat on the back by a peer or quite possibly it is the “friendship cake” of the blogosphere.  And I have given out my share of friendship cakes, let me tell you.

Now I get to share with you ten things you may not know about me, and nominate some other bloggers who I lurk, who will in turn do the same.“)

1. It looks like Shannon and I just might be allowed to get legally married. While I don’t want to actually start planning and be hideously disappointed yet again, it’s exciting to know that the ball that had been sitting in someone else’s court for years has finally been put back in motion. I have a huge file of pictures of pretty dresses and cakes and stuff to inspire me so I might start looking at those again soon.

2. I no longer have a best girlfriend. That long term relationship ended almost a year ago for a bunch of sad, silly reasons. We haven’t done the return of borrowed items yet (and I think we’ll just cut our losses) I can’t see it ever going back to the way it was, not even remotely. I used to be sad about this but now it’s gotten down to a weekly blip where I think, oh, I should call her and…nevermind. I miss the comfort of it, the familiarity, but I don’t miss the last little while where I felt judged constantly.

3. I have pretty good health over all and for that I am grateful. I don’t rock the boat by taking vitamins or anything, but I do exercise twice a week. And when I am stressed my body does do fun stuff, like seriously twitching eyelids. My ex would notice my eyelid dancing and he’d back off out of fear.

4. I get migraines. I think half the time they’re stress related and the other half they’re…just bad luck. Sometimes I get one because there’s a neon light flickering and I look at it the wrong way or it could be a very bright light, the sun suddenly in my eyes or a camera flash. My migraines don’t actually hurt, but I get a weird visual effect that means I can’t read or watch tv or do much of anything. Usually a couple aspirin help it go away and laying down in the dark helps too.

5. I am a technophile. It’s taken me a long time to realize and admit that, but it’s true. I love all my tech toys and my fingers itch to fiddle with my iphone, looking for new podcasts to download. I also love my sirius radio, kindle and ds. These are the things I pack on every trip I take.

6. For years I kept my hair short and bleached it blond. Now that it’s long, I like it much better and I can’t remember why I had it short for so long.

7. The last opera I saw live was a performance of Turandot, almost 4 years ago. I miss live opera very much and I see it as an extension of the years I spent going to rock concerts weekly.

8. The older I get the less likely it is that I will ever have a baby and I’m mostly ok with that inevitability.

9. I think about our trip to Panama every day and fantasize about living in the Kuna Yala territory.

10. My secret career goal is to become an ornithologist but I have no idea how to begin that process and will most likely keep it filed in my dream category.

Nothing profound, sorry. Now I pass the torch on to Shannon, Jana, Corrie and Ryan.

It was exciting, at Ikea the other day, to see new balls being delivered to the ballroom. An old friend of mine worked in the kid’s zone at Ikea a number of years ago and told stories about children too excited about the balls to bother getting out to go to the washroom so finding POOP in them was very commonplace. Apparently each store has 2 sets of balls, one that’s in use, one that’s being cleaned.

Still. Gross.

Did you know the Big Bop is closing it’s doors? I guess it is.  Old news, for some, but I hadn’t really clued in until this past Thursday when I was waiting for the Bathurst streetcar and saw the sign.

Looks weird, stripped down like that. I never really hung out there much, not even in my 2 concerts/week heyday. But still. RIP, Big Bop.

The moon looked great the other night. Round and bright.

Then, because I had my camera-ok, my phone-out, I took a picture of the strip club/church around the corner from my house. I love it.

No, wait, I hate it. There’s always someone outside the church handing out tracts. I find them strewn all down Bloor Street. I hate litter, and it’s his fault.

I had some narrow strips of fabric left over from my log cabin quilt block, so I sliced them in half lengthwise and sewed a miniature log cabin block, then made it into a pin cushion. Stuffed it, sewed it shut and embroidered my initials on the back, then I attached a little crocheted strawberry that’s been lumping around in my crochet case for a year.

Cute.

I also got a bunch of new yarn yesterday, for xmas. A ball of mini mochi that is so soft and nice (it’s #111, aka babyface), I’m making it into yet another  scarf. Should be lovely. And a few skeins of sock yarn, plus 3 balls of sari silk yarn.

Lunch tomorrow, Jana?

My parents made the trip to Toronto today to celebrate xmas with us. Late, yes, but better than never.  I went to the AGO with them and took only a couple illicit pictures. And managed to not get kicked out. A beard free trip.

That’s all. Came home and ate a lot of food and drank some wine.

And they need help with conversions, it seems.

I imagine Dick Van Dyke’s voice as Bert in Mary Poppins.

(I was looking for a picture of an owl. I swear.)

Jana wrote the pattern and it took me about 24 hours all told to finish it. Easy. And it hurt my brain only a little.

Not the prettiest picture of me, I know.

Orange and lilac, if you couldn’t tell.

Dog owners. You know, the main reason I don’t have a dog is because there’s no way in HELL I would ever pick up dog crap. I know that somehow it would get on me, under my nails or a skid down my sleeve that would go unnoticed. And I think that a lot of dog owners also feel this way and either don’t bother picking up after their dogs or they dispose of the dog completely, like a Brita filter. Look at petfinder, you’ll see.

Anyway, I think winter must be seen as both a blessing and a curse for dog owners, a curse because it’s cold and sometimes dogs take a long time to find the right spot to squat, and a blessing because deep snow means they can’t find the poop and just don’t bother. Seriously, look in the parks in spring time, it’s revolting. This winter-and I use that term only in the technical sense-we’ve had virtually no snow but I think that because the calendar says it’s January, that means that some people think that it’s their time of the year not to stoop and scoop. Between here and the subway station, a 3 block walk, I believe there are at least a dozen smeared piles of dog shit. I mean, I hope it’s dog shit, you never know in this ‘hood. There was also a giant splat of vomit outside the subway station on Thursday, but that’s a different issue.

I took this picture today. It defies explanation. I call it “Still Life of Dog Shit and Underwear”.

Last night, on my way home from quilting class (which, just to be clear, I LOVE!), I was on the bus, headphones deep in my ears blaring Howard Stern when 2 LDS guys got on. I think, if I remember correctly, their names were Elder Brainwashed and Elder Superdoy. Anyway. One leaned towards me and said something that I couldn’t hear because Howard was in the middle of moderating an arguement between Bababooey and that filthy clown guy.  So I pulled a headphone out of one ear and asked him to repeat himself.

“Is that a bag?” he says, gesturing to my-get this-bag.

So I asked him to repeat himeself again and I guess I’d heard him right the first time.

“Is that a bag?”

How does one even answer the world’s stupidest question? It was very difficult to keep the sarcasm at a minimum.

“Yes” says I, slowly. “It IS a bag. I mean, my bag…it’s a bag.” Then I smiled kindly. That kind of dumb you don’t want to anger. Then I put my headphone back in my ear and turned away to discourage more silliness.

Fast forward 24 hours.

After work this evening I was on the subway, minding my own business, knitting and listening to Howard again. A man sits beside me-ok, not beside, but I was facing forward, he was facing sideways, so our knees were pretty much touching-and he’s eating out of a giant bag of movie popcorn. Watching me knit. Then he dropped a popcorn onto his coat without noticing and it tumbled down between us, maybe landing on my boot. No big deal. Then he speaks:

“I bet my popcorn bothers you!” in a playful way but as he says it, a piece flies OUT OF HIS MOUTH, landing on my purse.

It didn’t bother me at all until that exact moment. Thanks.

Why go to a pro when I have a super pedicurist right here?

From big-baby toe, I got gold, white, pink, black and silver on both feet.