Tick tock, tick tock

Well, the DEATHCLOCK has indicated that I'll live to the ripe old age of 98.

Kim at www.kbannerman.com has correctly pointed out that there are many things it doesn't take into consideration, not the least of which are health and diet.

And if you happen to spend your time bleeding around sharks, you can be sure that your clock will be sadly inaccurate.
(Thanks for pointing that out Kim. You never know when a gentle reminder will save lives.)
Also, it didn't even begin to consider the speeds at which I drive, though those are tales for another time.

So, I have a lot of minutes to live, really.
Given the fact that my fastest personal speed land record on public roads in a 'buy off the lot' vehicle is 260kmh * (that's 163mph, for my dear American readers.)

Which makes me wonder how it is that I'm sitting here, exactly.







* Don't try this at home, kiddies! The cops will stop you and point a gun at your head in a very unfriendly manner.

Dreams are such amazing things.

I had the best dream the other day...

I dreamt that I was traveling across a country with my wolf, and my raven.
(The country wasn't defined, it was some otherworld)

And as if that wasn't cool enough, I could SHAPE SHIFT into either form, at will!
First a wolf than raven than wolf than raven wolf raven wolf raven...I was making myself dizzy flipping back and forth!

NOT TO MENTION (and this was TRULY exciting), that if my wolf and raven were close by me, I could also shift into horse form to travel swiftly across the plains.

Sometimes you just don't want to wake up.

Two things...

First things first.

I added a whatchamacallit to the comments posting area 'cus frankly?
REALLY don't like the comment spam.
They'll just hunt you down and spam you anywhere won't they, even in the (relative) privacy of your own blog.
They'll be showing up in your bedroom next, pasting spam on your forehead while you sleep!

Well, as the great Monty Python skit goes...

Waitress: "We've got spam, spam, spam and eggs and spam. And spam.

Pepperpot: "BUT I DON'T LIKE SPAM!"

At least the vikings won't show up and sing!

And SECONDLY,
I just received the coolest t-shirt I have seen since I found my "Dead people are cool" shirt.

I tried to scan it and post it, but...yeah, don't ask.

ANYWAY,
It's got picture of a little pirate on one side giving the finger and a little annoyed looking ninja on the other side and in the middle it says...

"PIRATES ARE WAY COOLER THAN NINJAS."


And ain't THAT just the truth!
Thanks Kris, you rock!

Modern religion.

I'm currently reading Jon Krakauers', "Under the Banner of Heaven".
(He also wrote one of the most amazing books about an expedition up Mt. Everest that I have ever read. Really! Pick up "Into Thin Air." You won't be disappointed.)

Anyway, "Under the Banner of Heaven" looks at a horrifying murder of a young woman and her 15 month old baby girl in the name of God, in Salt Lake City at the hand of two fundamentalist Mormon brothers.
(side note: The Church of the Latter-Day Saints denies there is any such thing as a 'fundamentalist sect', and in fact generally refuses to acknowledge any association with them as Mormons at all.)

Krakauer not only reflects on the reasons given by the now convicted murderer for the slayings, he also looks long and hard at the history of the Mormon Church.

It's a horrible crime, but the historical portion of this work really is fascinating.

Prior to Salt Lake City being developed as the focal point for that community/religious base, Vancouver Island, Canada was considered as a destination for the much vilified and harried group as they made their exodus from Nauvoo, Illinois.
(Polygamy was the major cause of many of the hardships the 'fundamentalists' suffered. They believed that 'God's will' was for man to have many wives to bolster the population of the chosen people.
Seems most everyone else found the whole concept disgusting and 'against God's will'. Isn't it amazing how EVERYONE knows God's will so intimately?)

Our little Vancouver Island would have been a far different place had that been the case!

So far, it's held my interest.
I've never been a history buff, but it sets my mind to working on how a regular old 'Joe' (in this case, Joseph Smith in 1825) could wake up one day, write a little book about how an angel visited him and gave him some signs that he need to be the head of his own religious community, and people signed up!

These days, that type of thing is either called a cult or Scientology.

I suppose L. Ron Hubbard has done the same thing in our modern age, hasn't he?

Well, that's it.

Where's my pen and paper!?
Times a wastin'!

Humblest apologies!

Okay, alright, that last post was a lame kind of cop out, but honestly, I'm just TO BUSY!

So anyway, here's a few things that have been going on...

Uh, hmmm...saw a man with three (3) thumbs the other day.
It was growing from near the base of his other thumb. It wasn't very long, maybe half an inch.
Kind of instilled a queasy feeling in my stomach, but I'm not sure why.
I guess anomalies like that really strike at the psychological/instinctual fear trigger perhaps?
Logically, of course, I was able to consider things, but really, that weird feeling in the stomach wasn't entirely controllable.

-------------------

My little cat FINALLY got her cast off...but her poor little leg is kind of gross now. She has to wear a cone for a few days to a week, lest she lick the cast wounds down to the bone.
(Yes, she already tried that, she licked it till it was bleeding and I was forced to replace it. She must wonder why I hate her so much that it requires torturing her. At least it'll be all over in a week!)

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My momma's coming to visit this weekend!
Hurray!
I love my little mom, she's just the sweetest little thing really.
Kind, nice, and giggly to boot!
She'd make the BEST grandmother, I think.
But we'll never know for sure, for I don't plan on having any children any time soon.
(Well, honestly, I don't plan on it EVER.)
Poor mom, she'll just have to pamper old Bentley, I guess!

-------------------

Speaking of Bentley, I think I'll have to haul him into the vets one of these days. He's arthritic in the back end, and while it's not causing him any obvious pain, I can tell it's affecting him.
He's never been a graceful cat, but he's having trouble jumping up on the bed and such things.
I wonder how much medication for that kind of thing costs.
More than I have, I'm sure!
Ah well, he's been a good cat for his whole life, so it's the least I can do, really.

And that's it!
See, I'm busy AND dull right now!

I see and will obey.

I tried to send a nice letter, but it didn't go through.

TO: bobby.henderson@gmail.com

RE: Flying Spaghetti Monsterism

I have decided, though my family may wail and rend their garments, to become a Flying Spaghetti Monsterist.

I hope the great FSM (that's not considered bad form, is it?) will consider me a great disciple in long leather boots and a cutlass.
I'll carry whip if need be, but prefer a musket.
Give me a musket any day!

So, anyway.

You can find me at delusionoftai.blogspot.com.

I do pledge my allegiance etc etc...but as I'm Canadian, I also reserve the right to sit back for a few years and think about things.
I might reconsider, but I'll do it in the nicest possible Canadian / Pirate sort of way.

Cheers and Avast Ye!
Tai the semi-committed Canadian FSM'ist

Avast ye! And walk the plank, too! *

Since my youth, I knew that I wanted to be a pirate.

Really.
All I wanted was to swashbuckle!

But now I know that my desire to don big leather boots and wield a cutlass also has important religious and ecological ramifications too!

So thank you, oh great Flying Spaghetti Monster, and Ms. Bannerman at www.kbannerman.com, for unearthing this extremely elucidating document for me!

Yaaarrrr!!
(And YES, that's EXACTLY how I would have dressed had the job become available!)
But you know, what with the cut backs and lay offs, it's just not feasible these days! Though, truth be told...I still dress like that on occasion.
When the moon is full.
And when the black swell of the sea beckons. The very wind carrying the song of the distant sirens, calling, calling us to our rightful bounty, gold and gold and more GOLD.
They sing out to us over the vast space!
Until the enemy ships fill the horizon, bounding over the waves to block our path, and smell of gunpowder and blood fills the.....

where was I...?

Oh yes...
*click on this 'shiver me timbers' title to take you to one of the most important letters to the Kansas school board to date.

I wish I had a house to walk to at the end of this road....

....complete with a fire roaring in the sitting room, a cozy duvet to cuddle under and a big cup of tea.

mmmmmmm

Safe and sound.

That’s a strange how do you do.

I went for my traditional 'walk about' after work the other day, to gather food for dinner and had a rather strange thing happen.
(Well, I think it was strange…)

As I crossed the road, a car had stopped in the middle of the block. I suspected he was going to parallel park and skirted out of his way.
He looked straight at me and smile-nodded.

I continued on my merry way down the street a few more blocks, and lo, there he was again, but not in his car this time.

He was standing holding a very pretty looking little Siamese cat and seemed to be inspecting it.

He held it aloft in the air, turning it this way and that and when he saw me about to walk by, rushed over to me saying, “Look at this cat I just found!”
I stopped, polite as all ways, as he continued, “Yeah, I just got out of my car and it came running up to me.”

“Perhaps it’s this cat?” I pointed at a sign posted on the lamp post about a missing Siamese without a collar.
“Hm. This one has a collar though.” He slung the cat over his shoulder.

I wondered how a cat, and a Siamese in particular, would deign to allow itself to be flipped around so casually by a random stranger.

And then he asked me, “Do you live on Selkirk? I do. I think I saw you over there.”

Uh oh. I KNEW that was coming.
My creepy man senses started tingling instantly.

Then he pulled out his phone. “So. I should call?”

I started to walk away quickly, saying, “Good luck!”

Something about him....I just can't explain.

I continued along my way, stopping at the library, at the local farmers market and at the grocery store for my dinner.

And as I walked back through my neighbourhood, there he was again!

In almost the same place, sitting in his car.

With the cat standing on the head rest of the passenger seat.

Maybe it’s just me, but I just KNOW he was up to no good.

Years ago, in my youth, I would have been tempted to stand around, be concerned about the cat and try to help him locate the poor things owner.
I can't help but suspect that's exactly what he wanted.

Now that I’m old?

I know a “please help me little girl, help me” ploy when I see one.

Not to mention the fact that I’ve seen enough A&E specials on serial killer/stalker rapists to be instantly fearful.

Which is sad, I think.

But on the other hand, I am still alive.

Dry spell!

It's odd...for weeks on end I blog each day, (except for the weekends, of course, 'cus I'm out having WAY to much fun) and suddenly I find myself rather wordless.

Anyway, not much of great excitement has occured.
My car died and needed the alternator replaced. (That's 3 in as many years, if anyone is counting.)
Also, my clutch fan needs replacing, otherwise, it may completely detach and fling itself willly nilly through my radiator. Which would be bad.

So while I can little afford the hundred odd dollars it will cost to replace, I can even LESS afford the three hundred to four hundred dollars if it DOES go through my rad!

So, that's all the news fit to print.

Whee!

Well, honestly Mr. Jackson!

Now, Samuel L, you and I really must talk.
This shameless show of flinging yourself at me really must stop!

First, you position yourself carefully where you're sure my girlfriend and I are going to walk.
Pretending to have a cigarette, you took the next bold step of inviting us up to your private soiree when we stopped to chat.

Nicely done, subtle, yet clearly an indication of your interest.

But now you've gone to far!

Really!
Throwing yourself at my doorstep is not neccessary.
Yes, I'm a charming, intelligent woman.
Yes, I am, frankly, beautiful.

But honestly, Sam, you don't need to film a movie on my doorstep to get me to notice you!
And having me move my car for those few days of filming, now that really takes the cake!

All you have to do is have your people call me on the telephone in an old fashioned kind of way.
(Obviously your people know where to find me now, they were laying in wait for me when I arrived home today!)

I might even say 'yes' to a coffee.

Maybe.

But nothing more, mind.
I'm not that kind of girl!

Mr. Robertson Davies

Thanks Nish', your comment about Peter Jennings and Robertson Davies reminded me of my love of that Canadian author.

The first book I read of his, I read when I was 12..."The Rebel Angels".

I won't bore you with the details, as ones' great loves do not necessarily excite others.

Needless to say, though, it held me then, and continues too.

Every year I read it, I learn something new, I read something new, I see it in a new way.

As Robertson says:

"A truly great book should be read in youth, again in maturity and once more in old age, as a fine building should be seen by morning light, at noon and by moonlight."

I was working at a video store at the time of his death.

My boss knew of my love for Mr. Davies, as I had just purchased his latest (and last, unfortunately) book, "The Cunning Man", and was expounding on it whenever anyone would listen to me.
(Went they weren't choosing movies called "Police Academy 7", I mean.)

He came to me one day as I worked and took me aside to say, "That author that you like so much? I'm really sorry, but he died this morning."

The last sentence from his last book reads:

"No, this is the Great Theatre of Life. Admission is free but the taxation is mortal. You come when you can, and leave when you must. The show is continuous. Good night."

So I cried because he had no more words to write.
But I rejoiced for the ones that he did.

A tribute to Peter Jennings.

Please click on the title to take you to Crazy Aunt Purls inspiring website.

Peter Jennings has died due to lung cancer caused by smoking, and she remembers him fondly.

Thanks Peter Jennings for your contribution to this world , and thanks Laurie, for bringing to the forefront a fine Canadian.


Discussing the future of network news, and musing on who might replace Jennings as anchor, are to be expected, says CNN anchor Aaron Brown, a former ABC News anchor who considers himself a student of Jennings.

"But the story to me today is that the guy I really believe was the best anchorman ever born died much too soon, with so many stories he wanted to tell," Brown says. "I never knew anybody who so loved the work.

"He was that guy who lived and breathed it. He should have had another 10 years' worth of stories to tell."

And I didn't even mention this!

Having managed to drag myself away from the delightful company, music and food at 'Tuscany' on Bowen Island, BC, (see my last post about bliss...) I went to use their 'facilities'.

Not that interesting really, and probably something that you really don't need to be privy to, HOWEVER...

As I walked out of the washroom and back into the dining area, a women my age, who appeared to be waiting for the same said washroom, beamed a tremendous and beautiful smile at me as she touched me on the head and said,
"How lovely!"

I was wearing my skull and crossbones bandana at the time.

Needless to say, I remain delighted AND confused.

Bliss.

...when does anyone get to have a weekend this good?

It surprises even me, sometimes, at how much can be squeezed into 48 little hours, and still have time for sleep.

Friday night saw an evening of sake and sushi, at a fabulous little Japanese restaurant in posh Yaletown.
What goes better with a dreamy bit of sashimi?
Why, compliments of course!
Our waitress wanted to know, "Who did your eyes?"
Well, uh, I did...
"There just gorgeous! Whose eyeshadow do you use?"
...M.A.C. there are no other kienz!

Saturday morning saw me awake bright and early to have breakfast in the same swanky neighbourhood...mmmm blueberry pancakes.

A quick trip home for supplies, and I was back out the door and on my way to PLAYLAND!
Rides galore...the 'Hellavator', 'Hellsgate' (sounds rather like a theme going on there, doesn't it?) and my favorite, the 'Drop Zone'.
The Drop Zone involves you, in a bodybag-like contraption, (just in case something goes wrong?) being hoisted horizontally up 100 feet into the air and being released to glide out over the grounds of Playland in a graceful arch.
(My description may be inaccurate for some people...many of them screamed from start to finish, but for me, it was just like all of my flying dreams, and I loved it.)

But the best ride was saved for last.

After a quick bite to eat on Granville Island, a friend of a friend had a beautiful sailboat waiting to take us out to the bay to watch the fabulous "Festival of Lights", up close and personal.
It was grande finale night, and all the splendor of Canada, Sweden and China was out in perfect form.
The sky exploded in multiple-epiphanies of colour, amazing shapes and forms, colours seemed to hang in the sky for impossible lengths of time as more fireworks added more and more layers.
Oh, and I musn't forget the delicious wines that complimented the evening, and the clear, cloudless sky on a calm bed of water.
(Did I ever complain about the universe being unfair? Well, I take it ALL back!)

Sunday afternoon arrived, full of sun.
Now what?
What could possibly hold up to the day I had yesterday?

Well, how 'bout exploring on a little gulf island?

A 15 minute ferry ride to Bowen Island was just the thing.

It's a wealthy bohemian's dream, gorgeous houses with gorgeous vistas abound!
Expensive 'hippy' organic grocery stores that have the best of everything.
This little island even included a small group of musicians set in the park playing Irish jigs for free.

And I can't forget that wee Italian restaurant 'Tuscany'.
Outdoor seating under trees and grapevines, the smell of lavender drifting hazily through the warm air.
And Billie Holiday drowsing over the speakers in a long, soft dream of a song.
Not to mention the gorgonzola and sweet almond salad...

I won't even quibble that a bee stung me, or that my alternator went and I had to get my car towed.

All I can remember is the sashimi, the 'Drop Zone', the fireworks by boat, and being lulled under an arbour of green while eating one of the best examples of bruschetta I've had since I was in Italy.

Si, la dolce vita.

Grazie.

Isn't it amazing?

Dancing statue

A statue of the Virgin Mary has reportedly "become flesh" and started to dance.

Over 40,000 catholics are on their way to St Peter's church at Acerra, near Naples to have a closer look.

Witnesses say that the 5ft white marble statue stretched out her arms and moved her legs reports the Daily Express.

Domenico Di Gennaro said: "I saw the statue move without doubt. The legs and the arms were clearly moving and my wife saw it as well. Some people who had phones photographed it."

The parish priest said the church was closed so that tests could be carried out on the statue.

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That story just astonishes me.

I mean...telephones that can TAKE PICTURES!?!
It wasn't that long ago that telephones in houses were rare, and now they can photograph things.

I can't wait till they start doing housework, too.

Oh, and that other thing is kinda weird too, but after all the religious toast out there, one grows rather used to it.

And now, I interrupt your regularly scheduled program.

Well, just in case I've not entirely established myself as a 'nerd fantastique'* in your minds, I've just been watching a very interesting show on KCTS (you know, that 'edd-you-case-yoonal' television station?)

Yeah.

It's a reality OPERA show.

uh huh.

20 or so people get together and compete to be part of the English National Opera.

It's so exciting!
To bad it's only one episode of congenial, nice people singing their hearts out for the chance at a dream, instead of a bunch of bitchy people in a whole prolonged, nail biting and agonizing series of sex, anxiety and back stabbing cruelty for some cash.

(Come to think of it, there's enough of that kind of angst in real life, why would you WANT to spend an hour of your life each night watching it on tv?)

I guess some one is making money on reality shows somewhere! **







* I don't know what that means exactly. A fantastic nerd? A nerd of fantasy? You pick, I'm sure you'll make the right choice.


** Well, no one is making money on reality Opera shows...I mean, who wants to see THAT, anyway?
And hell, I just watch it to be peculiar!
(Okay, okay. So I secretly enjoy it. So some of the arias make me cry. Just don't spread it around!)

Now THIS is an ugly ol' cat!

See?
Bentley is MUCH more handsome compared to this cat!

Well, I mean....obviously you can't tell that from the LAST picture...

He had just woken up, or some one had just punched him or something. (no, I didn't punch him, geeesh!!)

Anyway.

My other cat is cute.

My dear old cat Bentley.

Hmmm.
Must have caught him at a bad time.

He's generally much more handsome and much less...demented looking.

You learn something new everyday.

Well, you're supposed to learn something new everyday, but it doesn't always work that way.

Yesterday, though, I DID learn something new.
Something that I suspect not a lot of people are aware of.

This information came to me by way of a VERY reputable source...a button on the ground that Nisha found.

I learned about the Passions of the Christ, which are, apparently, (and possibly not limited to) the following:

1) knitting

2) Hummel figurines

and last, but definately NOT least...

3) black velvet paintings

I'm not sure what to do with my new found knowledge.
I suspect sharing it is the best thing to do, thus I present it to all of you fine people.

Pass it on.
Black Velvet Paintings.

Who knew!?!