The Return of the Twitterer!

OK. So, January is almost over. 365 Masks has been going amazingly well. I've probably lost almost all of my readership on this weblog, and am on the fence with regard to how I feel about that.

I've been ambivalent about this weblog for quite a while now, which is no big secret. Friends and family have encouraged me not to quit writing in it and I do miss the fact that this was how the ones I live far away from mostly kept up with my doings. I also miss teasing those close to me through it as well, and I DO love to tease those close to me. As those close to me can attest.

With the daily committment of 365 Masks I'm finding that after I make and write about each mask I'm not really in a place to sit and write about myself and the minutiae of my life in long, rambling detail. More than that, though, is that I don't especially want to, and I can't ignore that. At all.

So, for now, I'm not going to. What I am going to do is resurrect my Twitter account and post it at the top of this page (over at the top right, there.) I'm much more in a place where small updates on me and my doings is all I have the energy for outside of my major online and artistic focus. So, instead of long and rambling you'll have brief and pithy updates on the minutiae of my life! Yay!

Tumult

Wow. December was teh crayzee. As evidenced by my lackluster blogging performance!

I'm not going to write about any more personal relationship stuff until I actually know for sure what's going on. Disregard anything I may have said in prior entries about what's going on in our lives or where I might be living, because it'll just make things simpler. Believe me.

I threw myself into an artistic frenzy and made cut paper art for a bunch of people this Christmas. I ended up not taking any pictures (like a lazy fool) but will get some examples up soon, I hope. Thankfully we know and love those who possess said art, so it's not impossible to go take shots of it all. Since 'cut paper art' isn't the most descriptive ... description, I'll try to explain: It's framed scenes created using cut paper. Kind of like a collage, but not really. I bought the funkiest scrapbooking paper I could find and went to town. Mom got an elephant, of course, La and Mimi got trees, Dan and May got entwined trees, Colin and Jen got koi fish, Jenny and Colm got a baobab tree, and Andrew's parents got seagulls against a sky. Lots of trees in there, but I love trees and they make lovely subjects for cut paper art. I was very pleased with how the one for Andrew's parents turned out and want to make a similar piece for my own walls.

I've also been maskmaking, of course, because TOMORROW is the start of 365 Masks! O holy crap. What am I doing? I have a few made ahead and plan to always stay a week or so ahead if possible (or even more). Please check it out and don't be too harsh on me, OK?

This weekend was Post Christmas-Christmas, but Mongkut chose to start barfing his intestines out beginning at around 3:30 in the morning of the day we were leaving. He barfs a lot for a cat, but this was different and so by the time he was just retching and bringing up clear stuff many hours later we made a vet appointment and I ended up staying home for the weekend to deal with the sick-cat-related complications. In the end, after bloodwork and IV fluids and x-rays and two overnight stays, it has cost a buttload (and I mean a major buttload, not just a skinny little buttload) of money to find out that there's nothing especially wrong with him. He probably ate some rando thing and felt queasy for a while, then dehydrated himself with all the barfing.

I'm glad in a way because I'd been starting to get paranoid about his skinny little self. I'd thought he was losing some weight, but the vet commented, "Wow, he's really solid!" when he lifted him up to weigh him, and he weighs about twelve and a half pounds. Not terrible. All his bloodwork is normal and he seems perky, apparently, so he comes home this evening. I get to bring him home on the Bathurst bus, where he will scream his idiot head off and cause me great embarrassment and shame. Woo hoo!

Shelley will be glad. He's been moping around and clinging to me quite a lot in the absence of his brother and Andrew. He probably thinks we gave Mong away, but it seems that Shelley needs Mong as much as Mong needs him, so that'll never happen. I've been pressed into service playing fetch a lot more than usual. That's right: Shelley plays fetch. Just like a dog. He brings his paper ball and one of us throws it. He runs after it, bats it around a bit, then brings it right back to us. Sometimes he sets it down a bit too far away, but I've found if I tap on the floor where I want him to drop it while he's running toward me, he'll come right to the spot and let it go. What a little smartypants.

Mong, of course, has no desire to play fetch at all. That's OK. I just want him back home so he can sit on Andrew's chest and take some breaks from that to amuse Shelley.

Happy New Year!

THE PEPPER.

I said to La on the phone last night that I haven't really been 'feeling' the whole blogging thing recently. NaBloPoMo backlash? I don't think so, honestly. I think it's partly feeling more private than usual about what's going on in my head, and partly feeling the need to expend my creative energy on mask making and research rather than writing in the old weblog.

I have TONS of ideas for masks (thankfully, since 365 is a lot of masks.) I went shopping for art supplies last week and was disappointed with Deserres (which appears to be the same thing as Loomis.) They have the fine arts supplies in the upper level and the crafting supplies on the floor level. Neither are any great shakes, but the craft supplies are especially meager. I don't want to have to spend thousands of dollars on the 365 Masks project so my supplies are not going to be fancy or high end. When I want to do a style like Commedia or something I'll be faking the effect of leather with paper mache or felt, not spending my money on cowhide. So, craft supplies are required!

That's one plus about moving back to Kingston: Michael's has a store there. I can't find one in Toronto for the life of me, and I need more mask forms, craft paint, glue gun glue and paperclay! Now if only Kingston would get a Lee Valley Tools, all of my mask making needs would be satisfied.

In other news: I've been trying to appreciate the cats as much as possible and encourage Andrew not to moosh their heads so much, which is a very effective and harmless way of stopping their bad behaviour but something that I find disturbing nonetheless. Perhaps because I imagine my own head being mooshed, resulting in messy hair? I don't know. Anyhow, they've been continuously bad and adorable and hilarious, as usual, and yesterday I was at my art desk while Andrew sat working on his laptop on the sofa. The cats were flying around (as they do) and Shelley made a particularly rambunctious raid across the living room onto the red bench, making his war cry and thumping the bench against the wall.

Andrew lifted his eyes from whatever he was engrossed in on his computer screen and looked at Shelley. He shook his head and said, "Shelley's got the pepper."

I was dumbfounded. The pepper? Shelley had THE PEPPER???

Who says that? Who besides octogenarians, anyhow? I nearly fell off of my desk chair laughing, so completely overcome was I with amusement at the channeling of an 85 year old man right there in front of me. THE PEPPER. What next? Is Mong going to be the bee's knees? Am I a live wire?

That Andrew. He may be tired of me razzing him all the time, but that boy sure doesn't take any wooden nickels!

A bit more on 365 Masks

(Cross-posted to 365 Masks, where any future in-depth posts on it will appear.)

I've had a variety of reactions about my decision to take on the 365 Masks project. Most have been very supportive and excited, and some have been a bit concerned that I'll find having a completed mask for every day of the year a very daunting task.

Make no mistake: I'm daunted. I'd be crazy not to be, I believe. Having said that, I must also point out that even though the goal is to have a completed mask for every day of the year I'm sure there will be days when I'll be unable to post a mask, and will have to backdate an entry or two. That's OK, since this isn't a contest and I won't be winning any prizes. Plus, I make the rules! Yay! The thing is, I WANT to post a mask every day and will do my utterly utmost to make that happen.

365 Masks is not about me thinking I'm this great artist and wanting to show off. It's more about the fact that I've developed a personal style and technique and am prepared to learn more about mask making, its history and cultural relevance. I purposely didn't study the mask making traditions of various cultures when I started making my own. I didn't want to unconsciously limit myself when creating a process by worrying about whether I was doing it 'right'. That was helpful because it gave me a certain amount of freedom in the beginning, which resulted in masks that I was extremely happy with.

The downside is that I take a long time to make my masks. I worry about them. I take the process extremely seriously and agonize over flaws that are likely only visible to me. I work with a small list of materials that I settled on through trial and error and have stuck with them religiously. Again; I am happy with the masks themselves, but as a result of the process I suspect that I've repressed my freedom-loving artistic streak a bit too much.

So: My hope is that 365 Masks will force me to think outside of the mask making box. Having to produce a mask for every day of the year will not give me the luxury of picking away slowly at each one. I want to shake up my perspective on what makes a mask acceptable, what makes one medium superior to another. I want to experiment with things I'd never before considered using to craft a mask and discover new ways of thinking about the finished product.

Plus, I'm excited to think that I'll also be creating many, many opportunities to learn to work with new mediums. Picking up more art and craft skills will also be a major part of this. I'm hoping that my niece, July, will join me for some of the less complicated projects and show some of her own efforts. She's a great artist and I think she'd enjoy this a lot.

Untitled

I'm moving back to Kingston permanently. I don't know how to segue gracefully into something like this in my weblog, really, so ... there it is.

I wanted to wait until after a few of our nearest and dearest had found out before I wrote anything about it here. I didn't really feel like writing anything else with this taking up all the space in my head so it's been a quiet week in weblogland for me. That's not to say that I want to go puking up my broken, bleeding heart all over here, either. This isn't that kind of weblog, or at least I try not to let it be.

There are reasons and they're good ones, but Andrew and I still think the world of each other. I know it sounds so odd, with me having moved back just two weeks ago. It took moving back to realize some things fully, though, and this is how it is. That's about all the explanation this space is going to see on the subject, too.

I have to sort out all of the things that are mine and pack them up. Getting them to Kingston will be another matter, but that'll get worked out. Aside from the obvious what'll be hardest to leave behind in the apartment is my kittyboys. Mongkut and Shelley are staying here with Andrew. He's keeping the apartment, obviously, and this is their home. Mong is so attached to Andrew that he wouldn't be truly happy apart from him, and Mong needs his Shelley around to keep him sane. So it's best that the three of them stick together.

Leaving Toronto guts me, but going to Kingston is the best choice. It's tempting to imagine living in Toronto, but cost of living alone means that Kingston makes a lot more sense for me. Besides, there are wonderful things and people waiting for me in Kingston.

This doesn't mean that I'm quitting 365 Masks before I start, either. I'm more determined than ever to jump into it, now. My next entry will be about that, I promise.

A new project/hobby/idea.

Waaaaaay back when (although less than a year ago, as will become obvious) my friend Erin told me about a great weblog called Skull A Day. I have loved it with a quietly mad passion since and have been following it a little bit enviously. The creator is such a talented artist, and pushes his artistic limits on a daily basis with his skulls.

Well, it's inspired me so much that I've gone insane as a result. I've decided to do my own year-long art project and document it in a weblog! I'm writing about it now so that I don't chicken out, but I plan to start it on the first of January. The project will be called 365 Masks, and I'll create a mask for each day of the year in 2008.

Like the skull guy I won't be imposing silly rules on myself; ie. the mask having to be started and finished on the day it's posted. Probably many of them will be ongoing projects, and some will be quick and easy pieces that took barely a few minutes to create. I want to stretch my artistic wings with this and force myself to think beyond the self-imposed limitations I sometimes suffer from. I'm hoping this will push me to try things I wouldn't normally, and become more imaginative and fearless in technique and media.

For the most part the masks will all be based on a simple template that I can draw on, paint on, sculpt on or whatever. I'll use recycled materials whenever possible to create my masks, and the mask base will always be made out of recycled cardboard from cereal boxes and whatnot unless the mask material is made out of something that doesn't require a base. Some masks will be really very bizarre, and some will be ... well, ordinary. In the end I want to end up with a large and eclectic collection of unique masks that helped me grow as an artist.

What do you think?

'Germy Nest' sounds very unappealing.

I'm not really going to be very interesting today, I'm sure. I've been pretty much in bed all day long, getting up only for food, drink and other biologically necessary functions. This is when having a laptop is especially nice, since you have the online world at your fingertips right there in your germy little nest.

I've been rocking the Neo Citran like crazy to get through it. Neo Citran is truly wondrous stuff. It leads me to a place where time and trouble do not exist. I sleep, I wake, I breathe ... it all happens so easily and happily and dreamily. Hours pass like minutes, seconds pass like years. I don't mind, so long as I am imbued in the lemony sorbitol glow of my friend.

Then the hammer of reality drops down with a violent crash and I have to scramble to the kitchen, hands shaking as I pour the precious powder into the steaming cup, gritting my teeth against the bitterness as I gulp it down, waiting anxiously for it to work.

OK, so I'm exaggerating. But not THAT much. I'm feeling really sick. Really, really sick. And I'm HIGH. On Neo Citran. And really kind of bored with the feeling sick already. So, grant me some creative license, is all I'm asking. I know it sounds like I could be a junkie very easily, and I probably could if I had the mindset or self-destructive urge to seek out the kinds of people who would supply me with the real stuff, but I'll remain in my cocoon of ignorance and get my drug-related jollies from things like Neo Citran and the occasional muscle relaxant, mmmkay? And feel free to stage an intervention if you think I'm abusing them for realz, please!

I felt too sick to go back to the One Of A Kind show today, and I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring. I'll be disappointed to have only seen half of the show if I can't make it, but honestly even just the half I saw was worth the admission price. It's such a fantastic event. I urge anyone who can possibly go whenever it's in town to do so, because the artists need your support!

NaBloPoMoNoMo! (National Blog Posting Month No More!)

This is my final post of NaBloPoMo for 2007! I'm writing it in a Neo Citran-induced haze, too, which could be interesting. Or just very messed-up.

Even though I was getting progressively sicker there was no way I wasn't going to the One Of A Kind show with Maysie yesterday. We planned to meet up at the show at around six-thirty, so I left home at five, figuring it would give me lots of time to get there and get my ticket and maybe wander around a little bit before finding May. It was a good thing I gave myself all that time, however, because the streetcar route had been changed due to track work, so things were messed up. Plus I had to wait for over half an hour on the Bathurst station streetcar platform, only to have six streetcars arrive within a minute of each other. In the end I had to take the streetcar to Queen's Quay and take a shuttle bus to Ontario Place. I got there pretty much right at six thirty.

Sheesh. Once I arrived and found my Maysie everything was great. We ended up covering half of the show which is pretty good for about two and a half hours spent there. And going with May was also perfect because we looked at a TON of jewelry. I mentioned before that in the past I've ended up not looking at the jewelry enough, but we spent time at almost every jewelry booth we saw. AWE. SOME. May did point out that there were several vendors who weren't really producing 'one of a kind' items, but there were many many many that were and I made some fantastic purchases.

May's dad picked us up and took us back to her place where Andrew and Dan awaited us for a few more hours of goodness made up of Thai Food, Survivor and The Amazing Race. I was feeling worse and worse by this point and ate barely half of my sticky rice (which was the only thing I ordered), and it made me feel very unwell. I was comforted by the fact that one of my least favourite Survivors was voted off in a very embarrassing and ironic way, but then felt all upset again when we watched last Sunday's episode of The Amazing Race and there was animal-related badness that I found more than mildly upsetting.

The racers had to cram a chicken in a mesh bag (which most of them did very ungently) and carry it around for the entire episode, doing a lot of running and bouncing and generally chicken-in-a-bag unfriendly traveling. Then they had to ride a bicycle loaded down with a ton of unwieldy items, one of which was a live goat all tied up and tied into a basket. That was bad enough, but in order to get their bicycles balanced and successfully loaded with all the items many racers chose to pile stuff on top of their goats. Yes, I'm aware that these goats were intended as food and weren't going on to live lives as cherished family pets, but a tiny scrap of respect for another life form would be nice, especially since these goats were very capable of voicing their displeasure (and did so.)

So: Not my favourite episode of The Amazing Race. Most of the animal stuff portrayed on this show involves livestock doing what it's been trained to do in the first place and doesn't involve the racers having to handle them much beyond leading them somewhere or riding on them. This was different, and both scenarios involved a lot of potential harm to the animal on television. It made me sad. And I don't like feeling sad when I get to see Phil and his Amazing Eyebrow.

Sigh. That's it for NaBloPoMo, people! I intend to do it again next year, unless for some unforeseen reason I am no longer writing in this here weblog. I do intend to keep writing, though, and will try to do a lot more than I have in the past year or so.

BAD KITTEHS!

Andrew and I returned to Toronto at around one o'clock this morning. I'd felt pretty guilty during our three days in Kingston over leaving Mong and Shelley alone here directly after I'd returned home to them after my months-long absence, so was looking forward to opening up the apartment door and seeing them again.

I imagined them wandering the rooms, wondering if we were coming back, howling hopefully at the apartment door when they heard anyone walking by in the hallway. I missed waking up to find them on either side of me, Shelley with his shiny, satiny fur and Mongkut with his velvety, soft fur. I looked forward to seeing their angelic, happy little faces when we returned, eyes squinty in affectionate welcome, purrs loud and loving.

They were happy to see us, of course, and our little reunion was as nice as I'd hoped. After a while Andrew and I settled down to try to get some sleep, and that is when my darling, beloved, precious, adorable kittyboys proceeded to make total assholes of themselves.

If there was plastic to be found they chewed on it. If a whisker from the other invaded their personal space they wrestled madly together. They poked and explored in all the bags and packs I'd brought with me, seeking new toys and playthings. They grew incredibly energetic and raced around, vaulting over us and thundering under the bed at top speed. They got up on my dresser and pushed things off of it onto the bed where my head lay. They messed around on the windowsill constantly, clattering the vertical blinds loudly over and over and over. They tussled on the bed, knocking into us as we tried to sleep, swearing at each other whenever a tooth or claw went a bit too far. They gnawed enthusiastically and loudly on the handle of the wicker basket I'd gotten.

I don't know how many times I had to sit up and swat at them, or get up altogether and take away whatever they were pouncing on or rustling in. At one point they both raced out of the room and I asked Andrew to close the door, but that's a pointless tactic because then Mong will immediately start trying to dig his way through the bottom of the the door, wailing sadly. So he opened up the door again and we suffered more of their shenanigans.

So; not much sleep for me. I'm not sure how much Andrew got throughout all this, but he needed rest more than I did. Eventually the boys did settle down, but it wasn't really until after Andrew left for work. I got an hour or so of sleep after that with them blissfully sprawled on the bed with me, in their repose the perfect little cats I like to think of them as.

I voluntarily own little beings who are possibly around the mental age of two years old; beings who reside in compact, strong little bodies that can get into places that I can't and wreak havoc in hundreds of little ways. Beings with little in the way of morals, conscience or forethought. VOLUNTARILY. OMG.

Segue-less rambles.

Blargh.

That's all I'll say about feeling sick today.

We're heading back to Toronto tonight. Andrew is finished in Gan at nine and then heading back here to Kingston, so we won't get back to TO until quite late. Probably well after midnight. That's OK for me, but poor Andrew is the one who has to be at work early tomorrow. The man runs on caffeine and stubbornness, I believe. Whereas I run on sticky rice and sarcasm. Actually, that's not true. I just wish I ran on sticky rice.

Anyhow, I'm still planning to hit the One Of A Kind show with Maysie tomorrow. I'm excited about it and I think I'll spend an hour browsing the site and writing down specific vendors to visit for gifts-buying purposes. I have an idea of what I'd like to get for my mom and sisters if it's available there but am up in the air about a few people and am depending on this show to inspire me in that direction. I'm sure I won't be disappointed.

Oh, after my campaign to persuade my mom that her Cat-It is a busted mess she managed to sabotage it herself anyhow by losing a piece of it down the sink while she was cleaning it. She called the store and they said if she brought it back they'd refund her for it! Pretty sweet. I think she's undecided as to whether she'll attempt it again, seeing as how Keller never really took to it, but if she gets the kind with a reservoir dish it would probably be fine. Or so I imagine.

NaBloPoMo is almost over. I didn't do as many posts about my past as I intended. In fact, the Sasquatch post was possibly the only one, if I recall correctly. That doesn't mean I won't do any in the future; they just won't be NaBloPoMo posts. There was more going on with me this year, certainly, and I guess I really didn't have as much mental energy as last year. Oh, well. I'm certainly glad I did it this year and will likely do it next year if Fussy heads it up again.

I'm a walking ickfest.

Andrew and I went on a Shopper's Drug Mart quest today. I was looking for a specific item and it turned out that only certain of the SDM's in town are expanded enough to carry certain things. These larger stores are called 'Double A's', or 'AA's', according to a helpful employee. Andrew did express his preference for double D's, but the stores don't come in that size. Sorry, Andrew.

Eventually I got the item I wanted, and I made a couple of other purchases at a couple of SDM's. Impulse shopping! I'm so very impulsive. That store is like crack for me with all its lipstick and Bliss jewelry and hair products and accessories. If it sold Thai Plate sticky rice I'd never leave.

We'll be returning to Toronto tomorrow, though, and the SDM that is near us is NOT a Double A store, unfortunately. I think it's probably a Double B or something.

And oh! OH! Guess what? I'm getting SICK. AGAIN. I am PISSED ABOUT THAT AND I WILL NOT WATCH MY LANGUAGE. What is going on with this? I think that a great big visit to my lovely doctor in TO complete with bellyaching and blood tests is in order, since I seem to be sick every second week or so. I'm going to the One Of A Kind Show no matter what, I will have you know. Neo Citran will likely make the trips kind of dreamlike and surreal, but I'm going. I'll try not to handle things very much (or at all) and I'll sneeze into my sleeve. Um. Gross. Maybe I won't do that, but I'll sneeze into kleenex and bring sanitizing hand wipes or something. I'll also be doing the Cold FX thing this time, too.

That's it for today, I guess. I feel grody.

Hair, hair, hair, hair!

Argh. I'd just written out an entire entry and lost it. How frustrating. I won't be able to recapture the drama of our second unsuccessful attempt to visit The Rose And Crown with Colin and Jen, or the pathos of tonight's dinner at Frankie Pesto's with Mom where we had a fantastic waiter who impressed only me. He was six foot four! That's impressive in itself, no? Plus he was kind and attentive and slightly self-conscious. How can you not like that?

Anyhow, it's all lost to the mists of whatever the hell is wrong with my computer. I must have it fixed, and soon. We are obviously back in Kingston, where we will stay until Wednesday night. Andrew has work-related business to take care of here and I have to pack up the rest of my stuff here at Mom's place. I'm sad that Mongo and Shelley are all alone in TO after having both of us to love them up for a couple of days, but we'll be back there soon enough.

I cut Andrew's hair for him tonight. I don't think my last few attempts have been as successful as my first few. I seem to be losing my touch, somehow. He really needed it cut, though, so I got out my new scissors and spent a while hacking and shearing. He has VERY thick hair. By the end of any haircutting session we're both covered in hair, and this time even more so for some reason. I had Andrew stand up and face me so I could trim the very front bits that sproing out of his cowlick and he looked at me and said, "You're sweating!"

Dude, your hair; it is hard work. You always look unutterably handsome with shorter hair, though, so it's totally worth it. I should do a step-by-step photo essay like our man Colin's beard entry. That's awesomeness!

The weirdos on the bus go, "Shut it, white boy!"

Oh, Toronto, how I missed thee.

My return to TO got off to a perfect start with the American Thanksgiving dinner at Maysie and Dan's. There were approximately twenty people there, I believe, and it was a good time from start to finish. I got to see a LOT of people whom I hadn't seen in a long time. I also got to meet Diana's partner, Eric, for the first time which was great after hearing so much about him. Also there were Marcus, Jen F., Shannon, Emma, Claire, Sabrina and a whole bunch of other people who may or may not want to be name-checked in my weblog. I do not know.

It was all a perfect recipe for constant interesting conversation. I even drank wine, which I've been off of for a few years now, but there were two super-sweet dessert wines that I was able to handle with no problem. I'm a wine lightweight so they were enough to tipsify me a bit, but I did NOT get drunk at all. At all.

We stayed until well after midnight and ended up taking the Bathurst bus home with Marcus, who is our usual Bathurst bus companion. It turned out to be the weirdest ride ever, though, because after we took our seats at the very back of the bus a Native American man started haranguing Andrew, telling him to shut up and stop his noise.

This was disconcerting, but he didn't let up. He started getting pretty aggressive, pointing at Andrew, calling him 'white boy' and telling him how much he didn't like him. He looked at me and Marcus and said that he liked us alright, but he really didn't like Andrew and started quizzing him in a leading way about his knowledge of Native American words and facts, interspersing all this with threats and long stares. It was pretty tense since we didn't know if this guy was leaning toward picking an actual physical fight or not. I'm not sure why he wasn't offended by me if whiteness was his issue, since I'm the whitest white that ever whited. Seriously; my skin is translucent! Maybe because I have a badass septum ring?

After a while he started asking me some questions, like when my birthday was, what my name was, where I lived, et cetera. I didn't offer him any info and put him off as best I could without being a total bitch. He moved on to Marcus after a bit of that, then kind of returned to Andrew, saying that Andrew lived 'back there', where the bus had picked us up. Andrew informed him that no, he didn't actually live there. By the end of the ride he even said he liked Andrew but that I had to keep an eye on him. Then he asked us for quarters so I gave him a loonie and we got off the bus, leaving Marcus at the door where he'd opted to stand instead of continuing the conversation with the weirdo.

Andrew and I were kind of like, "Wow, that was something." You just never know what can happen in a situation like that, but in the end the guy seemed more interested in talking than anything else. It was kind of fitting in a strange way, though, to cap off a night of fantastic funtimes among friends with a bizzaro bus ride home. It really makes me feel like I'm back in Toronto!

It's a 'Cat-Ain't'!

I'm back in Toronto!

Jen and Colin picked me up right at seven and we headed out into Kingston for some dinner before getting on the road to Toronto. We'd settled on going to The Rose and Crown, an English pub out in the west end. As we were driving there I pointed out The Company I Used To Work For, Worked For Again And Then Quit Again. And for the sake of interest I pointed out Smitty's across the street, where I'd dined a few times with co-workers.

Jen nearly jumped out the window, so intensely did she desire to go to Smitty's. So, Colin turned the car around and to Smitty's we went. When we were seated there was an unfortunate aroma of vomit in the air, but it seemed to go away pretty quickly so I was pleased about that. I ended up getting the French Roll-Ups, which is a kind of unattractive name for delicious French crepes with fruit and whipped cream. Jen, having loved Smitty's in Halifax, concentrated only on the breakfast menu and was kind of nonplussed by Colin's request for dinner menu recommendations. I agree that Smitty's does breakfast best.

After our fantastic meal we hit the road and arrived in Toronto at right around eleven. Andrew met me at the apartment door to help me with my bags and I was home. He seemed glad to see me and so did my kittyboys, so I was welcomed pretty wonderfully back to my favourite city in the world. At this very moment Mongkut is trying to sit in my lap while I type and Shelley is sprawled out beside me on the sofa.

We'll be heading over to Maysie and Dan's in a while for our American Thanksgiving feast with friends. That's a pretty fantastic way to start my time in Toronto, don't you think? Andrew and I will be heading back to Kingston tomorrow night since he has work-related business there and then we'll be coming back to TO on Wednesday with the rest of my stuff from Mom's place. While I'm back in Kingston I hope to be able to convince my Mom that the Cat-It she bought is defective, since it's as noisy as a public fountain and the motor usually sounds like it's dying. The one that I bought for Mong and Shelley runs so silently that you can't even tell it's turned on unless you get down on the floor beside it.

Sorry, Mom. I honestly do think yours has problems. More than three, perhaps.

The heartbreak of 'Jiggley Boobs'.

I love macadamia nuts. I've been really craving them lately, and have managed to find some OK sources around Kingston town. My mom bought me a bag of delicious ones from the Bulk Barn and I figured I'd keep getting them from there since they were great quality and there was barely a brown one in the bunch. Then on our last trip to Loblaws I discovered that President's Choice sells 250g bags of them. I grabbed a couple.

I'd noticed that they looked pretty big through the clear window on the front of the bag. When I opened it up, however, I discovered that these are really enormous macadamias. I'm talking big. As I started to eat them I realized that I was getting an unpleasant association. These macadamias are just about the perfect size to look like large mouse skulls or little rat skulls. They even have a ridge on them to enhance that skully resemblance.

It's not preventing me from eating them since these really are great quality and the bigger the macadamia, the greater the flavour. But still. I sometimes feel like I'm snacking on rodent heads. Great.

I'm getting my NaBloPoMo post out of the way early today since I'll be on the road with Colin and Jen in the evening and then arriving in Toronto tonight. I'll miss curling up on Mom's couch to write my daily post, often trying to write around Mang since she quite often likes to sit on me while I'm on the sofa.

I won't miss the wonkiness of my 'borrowed' wireless internet connection, though. I have to sit in a certain spot to retain a really good connection, and if I move in a certain direction things get a little spotty. And I always, ALWAYS know that when the network is acting up I'll see another name in the network list. I don't know why this is, but whenever the network I use gets fussy, I'll see 'Jiggley Boobs' in the network list.

Yep. Jiggley Boobs. I know it's misspelled. I didn't name their network; they (whoever they are) did. Mom has gotten used to me getting very irritated and bursting out with, "Damn Jiggley Boobs!" every now and again. I'm sure that Lisa will think this is hilarious and fitting, and I admit it's funny. I think if I ever have my very own network connection I'll call it something like, 'Free Internet', and totally password protect it. Hee hee.

My next NaBloPoMo post will be written from Toronto! Hooray!