Where to start?

This has been one hell of a summer.

I stopped blogging because I was hanging out in my back yard, which is amazing, even though produce from my garden is somewhat lackluster.

But then, stuff happened. Not to me, but to people I care about, and therefore I did what needed to be done, to take care of the people I love (this is not a pity party, by the way) and I am in the fortunate position to be able to take care of people. Not that I excel at it, but I do what I can. And I was glad to do it. Every moment of my heartache that helps someone I love is worth it. Oh, yes it is worth it.

There were family visits, cottage-camping, jazz fest, folk fest, fringe fest, dragonboat fest, a birthday (mine!) and shitloads of knitting. All of it crazy, all of it fun, all of it full of people I love. It was a damn good summer.

And sadly, my camera doesn't talk to my computer anymore, so it's a royal pain in the ass to post photos.

But, now I'm back in school, work is still hell, and... I had sex (oh yes I did! and it was great!) but I'm searching for my new routine. Bear with me.

One of these days I will update Rav with the dozen pairs of socks I've made. I promise. (I wouldn't take that sucker bet, if I were you. It'll be a while).

Remember, you saw it here first!

I've been waiting for months to get this. I tried to upload it last night, but my computer is so aged that the CD drive doesn't read video files.

This is a clip from my show. I wasn't in Holy Babble, but this is the sketch that was born when I suggested the election of President Obama was like the second coming of Christ.

This song was definitely the highlight of the night:




And the audience loved it so much we had to do it again. Actually, if you listen carefully, you can hear me hollering, because I was right beside the videographer.



I'll post a youtube link when it's uploaded, but I just couldn't wait any longer.

Edit 09/17/09: Youtube link is here.

Carpe Diem? WTF?

I used to work from 9 AM to 7 PM without a lunch break five days a week, and go into the office for a few hours on Saturday and Sunday, just for fun. Because there was that much work to do, and I loved work that much.

That company wound down operations in 2005, and gave me the severance package that allowed me to buy Chez Peepee. I bounced around for a couple years after that, and two years ago, I found a job that I thought would give me the freedom and ownership I needed to be happy professionally, without that crazy overtime commitment.

Well.

Be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it.

Construction Inc. has been kicking my ass lately, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm off my game or if I'm not ready to play in the old boy's league.

Part of the attractiveness of this job is that I'm good at playing with the old boys. I'm smart, and I'm clever, and I've got the background (farmgirl, FTW!) that lends me the faint whiff of legitimacy I need to have my say. It helps that I tower (physically) over all of our sales people and office staff. In fact, the only people taller than me in the office are the president and the yard manager.

I'm starting to think that's not a coincidence, because I've always been wary of short people - they are feisty and sturdy in their own way.

It's been hell over the past couple months: we rolled out a new software system (thanks for letting me know, assholes) right at year end, the satellites that I need to do inventory are infuriatingly close to the horizon and there are buildings between those satellites and the piles of sand I need to measure. This is how it went:

Me: Please move this pile.

Them: Oh, are you sure you need that? How does that work? By the way, what are you doing with that stuff?... I don't know, we're busy.

Me: Well, I need this because I report to our owners, so please? Pretty please with sugar on top?

Them: Oh, I don't think we have the time.

Me: I don't want to be a bitch, but this is important, I need you do it.

Them: Well, OK, but it'll be real difficult, and we're really busy.

Me: Great. That's really helpful, guys.

Bossman: What she said, and do it now.

Them: Oh, lookee there, it's done all ready.

Me: That's grand. Look at this teamwork. Go us! (and in my inside voice, FUCK YOU assholes!).

That was May month-end. Repeat ad nausea at June month-end with the office staff, except Bossman is copying the president when he replies to my "whiny" emails (because Bossman is my biggest fan, not because he disapproves - he's just all about full disclosure)..

Ten more courses... and I will run the place. I will, and it will be awesome. Is it mean of mean to hope that a few folks retire between now and then?

I just need to pretend.

Phone call, earlier this evening:

Him: Are you sleeping?

Me: Not yet.

Him: I just talked to Seymour. He's camping, but we'll both be there.

Me: That's great. I couldn't do it without you guys.

Him: This is your brother, by the way.

Me: I know, I have call display.

Him: So, what time?

Me: I don't know, but it will be around late afternoon. I'll tell you this, I'm shitting my pants about driving a 26' truck to Nodnarb. I'll probably call you so that you can meet me at the Husky and drive this damn thing.

Him: That's nothing. It's like a 3-ton. Just remember your off-track. And find out if it takes diesel, there should be a sticker, but you can tell by the sound.

Me: Remember the last time I drove a truck bigger than a half-ton? I don't, but y'all keep telling me how I drove it into the granary. I was ten!

Him: You'll be fine. I have to shower now. I'll see you on Saturday.

Me: Yup.

Later: Oh, shit. I do not want to do this. And not just because one of my dearest friends is moving away from me. Though that is the major factor. The driving a 26' truck is just a minor annoyance. This really fucking sucks.

Happy Canada Day!

I had to work today, so no beer-drinking in the sun for me, but I had to do something to celebrate the day.

So, I'm drinking some Keith's and getting a wee bit weepy over a commercial:



It's too bad that such an awesomely-named beer sucks so much.

Calm before the storm

Edgar and I have been having an amazing time, lately. The weather is warm (finally!) and so the ce-ment pad is truly open for business:

When the sun is too strong, we retreat to the shade for our knitting:

(note to self: get some loung-y chairs and a table for the shady part of the yard).

We finished a pair of socks (which only took a year! And less than a gram of yarn to spare!):

There's also been that travelling scarf thing going on:

With all this nice weather, the garden is growing like there's no tomorrow, or something. I've got broccoli and hot peppers growing. Plus, I expect a huge burst of daisies and tiger lilies just about any day now:

Edgar and I were hanging outside tonight, when it suddenly got very dark. It was one of those maybe? maybe not? rain moments. I grabbed Edgar, because I wanted to bring him inside if it started to pour. And since we were cuddling, I thought it would be good to have a photo of us:

I'm going to miss that little stinker when he's gone. It's nice to have company when I am outside.

I nearly lost Edgar

The partners in w(h)ine were over on Friday, and we were enjoying a fabulous meal al fresco. That is normal for w(h)ine making in the summer.

Well. Edgar had some... callers, shall we say? And he went off with those hussies. I was tipsy, and busy, so I wasn't too worried.

He didn't come home Friday night, even though I was shouting his name and shaking the container with the food.

He didn't come home Saturday. Or early Sunday morning, because I got home at 2:45 AM, and was desperately hoping he was waiting for me.

He didn't come home Sunday.

His owner called Sunday evening, and I had to woman-up and give Brucie the news. I saw Brucie drive by my house at least twice looking for him. Brucie also drove by his own place (currently under-going renovations) to see if Edgar had undertaken is own Long Journey (is anyone else remembering a miserable book from Grade 7 and the even worse Disney movie that seems to evoke that title? My google-fu fails me) and actually made it across the river.

No Edgar on Monday. I was giving up hope, but woke up in the night frequently, either dreaming of him or wishing he was home (I've fallen in love with a cat. It figures).

Tuesday: I don't go home after work. Instead, I get an awesome meal and a few laughs, go to knit night. Because I didn't go home, I had the usual scramble at 10 pm: scoop the poop, make lunch, make coffee, iron something... surf for an hour, just to wind down. Wouldn't you know it, at 11 pm, far past my usual bed-time, I hear someone singing outside.

I run out into my back yard, oh-so-sexily dressed in a tank-top from 2000 and a pair of boxer shorts that used to belong to my ex-husband. In 1999 (I have no excuses. He only wore said boxer shorts once, and I find them comfy).

It's my dear sweet Edgar.

He doesn't want to come inside, because Parker has his head out the door and is already hissing, but I scoop him up, tell him I loved him and missed him. He ate lots and lots... and disappeared to the basement.

I phone Brucie - who was just heading out to cruise my neighbourhood again. He's relieved, but not really surprised. Apparently Edgar can be an asshole (That's no surprise to me: every male I've ever fallen in love with has been an asshole. Now, I'm prey to inter species assholes).

My own cats ignore me all night, because they are mad that the interloper is back again, but I don't care: my house is full; everyone is home. It's the best I've slept since Thursday.

I'm going to have a hard time giving him up, when it's time for him to go home. We spent three hours outside tonight: we watered the garden, knitted, and listened to an amazing audio book:

All is well.