Trade offs

Ayep. Not so good at the blogging lately. I've been at home, isolated from the rest of the world for what seems like forever and 3 days and that equals BORING PERSON.

What can I mock and recount if I am not amongst the humans? Should I describe how my cat and I both had to go to the bathroom at the same time? Should I detail the pros and cons of various diaper options? I think not.

We applied for an apartment in Montreal last night. We weren't specifically looking, but I came across one on Craigslist and we saw it and applied. 2 bedroom, close to stuff, across from a park, corner building...I have no idea if we will get it. We decided we would take it if we did. After 3 years out here in no man's land, I guess I'm ready to trade river views and single home tranquility for not freezing to death in the winter, huddled around the fire place that burns money(wood), while I wait for someone to shovel the 4 feet of snowdrift from my front door so I can trudge through the snow to the damn grocery store, by foot and back again. It's nice in the summer and spring here. It's tranquil. I don't know though, something to be said about being not having to take a half hour train ride if you want to go to a yoga class or go out to dinner, or meet a friend or buy a vegetable that isn't iceberg lettuce.

With a baby on the horizon, it also seems like maybe I won't find being cooped up in my quiet, but isolated home in the middle of nowhere, as charming as I have for a while. The charm comes and goes...Life is change I suppose. I seem to bring change upon myself anyway, when I start to get too settled, despite my natural resistance to it. Either I like to give myself a hard time or part of me knows better than to stagnate.

Either way, it's not really up to us at this point. We await the landlords decision.

So today, in the meanwhile, exciting stuff on the horizon: Going to the walk-in clinic for a sore ear and throat, eating the rest of the cauliflower before it goes bad...oh and painting. Yes. I've been painting. Painting faces. I'll show you some soon.

Wondering about Don Knotts.

Whew, what absolutely rotten weather we've been having. Humid, humid, rain, humid. The weeds are growing like monsters in my garden as I helplessly watch through the window. For some reason, there's also a phantom patch where nothing will grow. A big huge patch of dirt in the middle. I've tried planting things in that spot 3 times this year. Only one lowly beet shot out some leaves that were promptly nibbled by some insect. Maybe when I stop feeling like I'm on a rocky boat all the time, I'll get out there and whip the garden back into shape.

I did manage to do the dishes yesterday. The bile was in my throat the whole time but I did it. I even cooked soup. Normally, just looking at the kitchen makes me want to throw up. I think maybe, I might be feeling better soon?

On the very plus side, we went to the midwife friday and heard a heartbeat for the first time. That was intense. The midwife was very pleasant and encouraging and gave me crackers to eat. What doctor does that? No doctor that I've ever met. The bed you lay down on for an exam is a real bed. Comfy. Best of all, you get to test your own pee. It's true. They show you how to use their pH strips and hold them up against a chart to check for blood sugar and other things I don't remember. Plus, it's like going to french school because she doesn't speak english. Forces me to exercise my french muscle.

In closing, I have this to say about Michael Jackson. He was alright. Let's move on now though. Dude became crazy and did a whole lotta drugs, no big mystery. People should have had plenty of time to mourn the cool little dude, he used to be as he's been the walking undead for many years now. Is Don Knotts still alive? That's what I want to know.

Curses! My hind tooth for a library!

Wow, I was able to actually go for a tiny walk today. I've been sequestered, more or less, in this wee house for what feels like an eternity. I continue to endure perpetual sea-sickness without the sea. Do you know what is not fun? Throwing up.

Anyhoodle, I went for a little walk this morning to the dam near our house. It's pretty there. I took the stairs from the bridge, down to the ground so I could go sit on a rock near the water, but was stopped short by the stench of death. Someone had left some sort of dead animal in garbage bag that had been torn open. I didn't see it at first, I think I walked right past it and thought, what are teenagers getting up to in here? It reeks! Are they pooping in the bushes? Then coming back I saw it and realized. Thanks universe, for that vote of encouragement on my first attempt to venture outside in a while.

I won't even go into detail about the phone conversation I had with the department responsible for collecting dead animals. The secretary kept insisting that I must give her a street address for the bridge. It's a bridge! No street address, it's the only bridge over the only dam, damnit! Then she wanted to know, did I leave the dead animal in a garbage bag? Sigh.

I didn't really know it was possible to feel nauseous in your forehead, but that is exactly where it is generated for me. The body is a very strange thing.

And why is it that potato chips are the only thing that is consistently appetizing? Is that what nature wants me to do? Eat potato chips? If so, I must humbly obey.

The bonus is, when I do think of something that sounds edible, it turns out to be the most delicious thing in the history of time while I'm eating it. Then, as soon as I'm done, I never want to even hear it's name again. Whatever it is becomes instantly inedible. Why just 10 minutes ago, I ate a delicious green apple. Now, just typing the words is about as unappetizing as Satan's pee in a dirty cup.

You know what I miss most in this here part of the world? A decent library. One thing that's always saving grace for shut-ins, is a decent library. Even if you just pop in to get free movies and books, which I could use pretty bad. For some reason though, even if you don't feel that great, going to the library is still an option. So quiet and cool, with comfy chairs to sit in. Bloody Deux-Montagnes and it's rotting animal corpse terrain. There is a library here, about as big as my bathroom (not very big) with about 3 English books and it's open for 5 minutes every second decade. I hyperbolize ever so slightly of course, but it is true that the library here stinks. So poop on them. Satan's pee in a dirty cup for you Deux-Montagnes.

I hope you aren't eating or drinking lemonade, dear reader.

Immortalized (in short doc form)

Hey hey,

The college documentary about Portland is finished with some little clips of our wedding in the Voodoo Donut segment. Neat-o!

YESSSSS!!!!

I hate to rub it in Detroit Red Wings, but IN YOUR FACE!! Pittsburgh took the cup and it was so awesome. I've been following them all season hoping, hoping, hoping the young ones could take the cup from the phillistines know as the red wings. Ok, detroit play strong hockey, but they are brutes. It was so painful last year, seeing the Pens fight so hard right to the end and lose it. Sweet sweet victory was delivered this year. It was tense to the very last second, oh my yes, it caused T and I a great deal of stress. Way to go Pittsburgh! Snoochie boochies!

Pass the antacids, and the Dutchie on the left hand side.

Well, well, look who hasn't raised a knuckle in 8 million years to recount her daily dainties. That's the new word for life story bits. Dainties. Have I told you my dainties this week? Got any good dainties for me? etc.

It's pouring, pouring, pouring and it doesn't feel a teeny bit like June or summer. I've been quite inactive lately, other than being an incubator for a genetic experiment of the human variety, in other words, pregnant. I don't care for that word at all for some reason. It sounds so...afflicted. Although, it has been putting a stop to my already low level of productivity I must admit. I've been the sort of exhausted where even lying down, perfectly still feels like a thousand times too much effort. I smell things the way a microscope zooms in on a cell. For a while there, if T came too close, I swear, I could smell his spleen. This makes the kitchen a room of torture and cooking and eating truly unpleasant. Doing the dishes actually makes me vomit, so no change there but seriously folks...

I am not yet at the "magical" 3 month mark, I'm 3 weeks away from that, so I throw caution to the wind , or give suspicion the deluxe finger or something like that by speaking of being "embarked on propagation of the species", as it were.

Millions of things could wrong at any moment now or in the future or everything could be fine. Either way, it's pretty much beyond my control, outside of normal care, so why hide it, is what I think. Especially since little else is occurring as a result of my "afflicted" state. I'm soooo tired!!!!! Did I mention how tired I was?

So much to consider: Do we have to move? Buy shares in Microsoft? Grow a moustache? Will any of it help?

Meanwhile, I am here, drifting through each day like a limbo ghost, while my body does it's own thing. It's like: "Hey M, this is your hormones here, we got to do some work so you'll be locked out for a while, we got blood volume to increase and we got to hoist your uterus up to a new location, could take a while, probably will crowd out the stomach and the bladder, you'll feel that in the form of hella peeing and burping... you might as well just lay down on the couch for the next couple months and forget about contributing to society."

"Oh, ok, so will everything work out?"

"Maybe."

"Okey dokey then."

So that's where I am. Even bags make me want to puke. (They've probably been making you want to puke for a while now.) Too bad I'm not into online gaming or stock investing or something that would pass time with little physical effort. I hate TV, reading has become tricky because I think I need glasses dammit!, and I don't even care about real punctuation anymore. An exclamation followed by a comma. Shocking disregard for form. Grammar slammer hammer!.,,:

So will I become an endless bore as I continue the random formation of a human? Probably. "Become?" you say. Ha ha, aren't you funny.



While we're at it:









For a truly mindblowing experience, play them all at once.

Work station, engage. Make it so. etc.

Regard and regale the evolution of my work station. Twas once this:



It had character, yes, but was it extremely uncomfortable and annoying also? Yes.

The state of things now:



So clean, so efficient (I hope!).

Why it dang well inspired me to take a plunge and finally list a few items in my etsy store. I have several more to list in the upcoming days as I'm trying to meter it out a little. It's all new to me, I'm learning as I go along how to get exposure and junk and stuff. Wish me luck on that. (Please!)

Wedding fishizzle-ictures

Wedding was fantastic and perfect. Now bed. photos later.

Donuts, rain, sleep deprivation and a wedding

Getting married today. Crazy! I hope I remember some of it and stay awake. I don't travel so good. Sooooo tired. It rains today, today it rains. I will buy an umbrella from the vintage store across the street (there's one of those, every five feet) and go get married, that's my plan for today.

Here's yesterday:

Right out of your mouth. With a wooden spoon.

4:20 AM. That's when our alarm went off this morning. Dressing in the dark, bleary-eyed, moving through the house like a grape through jell-o. Why is air so much thicker when you are tired.

Right now it's 7:45 pm pacific time. We are in the coolest room I've ever been in at the Bluebird Guesthouse. It's old-timey. Art-deco. I'm sitting still but the room is spinning from plane dizziness and exhaustion but I'm happy as hell anyway.

Let me return to early in the morning hours. Driving in the cab through town before sunrise, with the streets dead, was cinematic. I started missing my cat (who's for real name now is Trillby) about 20 seconds after leaving. Little fuzzball.

We breezed through customs and our flight to Dallas was uneventful. Yes, that's right, we took the very efficient route of flying to Dallas before getting to Portland. Sigh. Anyway. I have been wanting to visit Texas for a long time. Somehow though, I don't think eating a pasty vegetable wrap in an airport terminal, watching planes being refueled is the best way to see Texas. Or is it?

I wrote this next part in real-time on the plane so I'll switch temporal modes now:
So I'm flying out of Texas now, above Utah or Arkansas or Poland or whatever the hell is between Dallas and Portland. There are 3 manly men in the seats across the aisle from us. 2 are from Texas and 1 is from Boston. The Texans were mocking the Bostonian: "How come you say 'Ore-re-gone'? It's Orr-gun. Orr-gun."

When the second Texan came to his seat, the first Texan said to him: "Watch out now. This guy is from Boston. I saw his Red Sox shirt and thought, oh now, this won't work, I'm a Yankee...but he's in the military and I got to respect that...."

None of these chaps knew each other, but soon became the best of friends, bonding over talk of guns and sports and how short their mothers are.

"My mom is 4'11."
"My mom is 4'9."
"My mom is 4'2."
The other two in unison: "Really?"

"Yeah but she's tough."
"Oh my mom too. She'll beat the piss right out of your mouth with a wooden spoon."

Will he put that in her obituary I wonder?

This plane is a lot smaller and hotter than the first one. There's a pilot sitting kitty corner from me. I scrutinized his face during take off for signs of concern. He was too busy reading his Harry Potter book to be reliable though.

I guess flying has become a little less scary for me, but no less uncomfortable. It's a long haul. I'm sure it will all seem worth it when I get there.

Back to real-time again, here in Portland, I can say already, it was worth it. I'm already pretty sure I need to live here. In a few short blocks around our Inn, we've seen streets and houses and restaurants that look like our brains designed and built them specifically for us. Hopefully the photos will do it some justice. I'm pretty out of it this evening and maybe not at my writing or photographing best. I am feeling full of good food and soon, I will be full of gravol and sleeping like a northwestern log, hopefully.

Portland day 1. Success.

bitchin' hitchin'

Alright then, T and I might as well go get married this week eh? Ayep. We will be eating our way through Portland for 4 days. Wish us luck.
Have a donut in our honor on friday after 2pm why don't ya?

terry jan

We found this photograph that someone left here, stuck way back in a little closet in our place. Written on the back is: "terry jan". I felt like drawing it today. My favourite is the dad in the background with the killer eyebrows. I didn't draw it well enough to be seen, but in the photograph, he's making a fist so tight it's white knuckled. I can't tell if it's Terry or Jan's dad for certain, but I'm guessing it's Terry's. Terry looks pretty comfortable there all spread out. Jan's looking a little more demure than him. She's got that "in the in-laws home" demeanour about her. Also, I can't tell, is dinner done? or just started? There's salad and that's about it. Hmmm.

Also in the news. I've finished my first commission. A woman from Voodoo donuts offered her services of photographing our wedding in trade for me making a bag for her out of an old David Bowie t-shirt. I should have taken a picture of the t-shirt to show the before and after, but now I know to do it next time. It was in rough shape. The whole top had been cut off. I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out in the end, especially the shiny gold lining. Hopefully, she will like it too.

Feeling like Merv.

These bags are getting more kick-ass. I am especially exited about linings. You know when Rick Moranis does Merv Griffin, all bent over, showing off his big but and saying to Dave Thomas as Liberace: "Ooooh. Show us your (suit jacket) lining. Ooooh." I feel just like Merv.

Right on to winter effing off for another year.

Dare I commit to writing that Spring seems to be here? Even if it's just the very tippy-toe of Spring. The last two mornings I've noticed the light looks different through the curtains. More Springy.

The days are longer and the temperature is above zero! I thought it would never happen again. Piles and piles of snow are drooping and turning slushy on top and I heard a bird in Montreal in the middle of the day. I don't know what kind of bird it was, but it seems ages since I've seen or heard one. Soon, the red-winged blackbird that always lives on our roof will be singing right outside my window and waking me up at dawn, like it has the past two years. Grass is gonna poke through the ground, rain will fall instead of snow, the tulips and irises will grow in my flower garden and I'll wear shoes again. What's it even like not to wear boots? I can't remember.

The soundtrack to the arrival of spring seems to be Skylarking by XTC. Every time I notice Spring-ness, I get the urge to throw it on.

I've had a cold the past couple days and have been confined to the couch so I picked up the knitting needles to keep my hands from becoming tools of the devil, what with their idleness and all...it's a bit late in the season for it but I'm pleased with my new hat.

Right on to Spring.

I'm sooooo boring!!!!

New bag finally. It's reversible! Been knitting. Finished this damn sweater that looks less than flattering but is completed at least. Plus, some slippers to boot.

Hamburger helper: Antidote to productive creation

I had a dream (here's where everyone rolls their eyes and goes to google news instead) that I was at a concert in New York city, in what appeared to be the early 80's and John Lennon was in the audience( circa 1980's new york John Lennon with the army coat, shorter hair, big burns... It made me sad, seeing him and knowing his fate so soon to arrive). It was the end of the "performance" and the men on stage, in army camouflage, opened fake but realistic machine-gun fire on the audience as a "statement" of being pro-might-is-right or something. I looked and saw John Lennon shouting in outrage, along with the rest of the audience.

The venue turned into a House of Pancakes, family-type restaurant (lots of booths). One of the performers had his family there with him: a wife and 3 children. They were all "poorly socialized", to put it euphemistically. Nerds. The daughter, a chubby, greasy-haired 15 year-old, feeling rebellious, stood up and questioned her own parents on their part in the machine-gun performance. "Why didn't you choose productive creation?, she asked.

Her mom's response to that was: "I'm no sophisticated city lady. I use Hamburger Helper all the time!" At the mention of Hamburger Helper, her daughter and 2 younger sons began to shake and quiver like babies do when they are happy, squirming and pumping their legs or like people with palsy who shake their heads and wave their arms.

The mom knew conjuring Hamburger Helper visions would distract her children from high-falutin' thoughts of productive creation.

The lesson is?

Frauwerks

So I think I'm nearly at the point of opening my Etsy shop. I've come up with the name. Thanks to my parents for about a billion good suggestions. You guys should maybe forget retirement and start an agency. I riffed off one of their suggestions - Volkstaschen which would translate to: the people's bags, if I got that right, mom? So after some playing around with words and listening to Kraftwerk I came up with Frauwerks. Women's work. I wanted to keep it a little looser in meaning since I would like to eventually do more than just bags. Anyway Frauwerks. Big runner up to some of the religiously irreverent names I almost went with, again from my parent's suggestions: Sack remnants and my riff, Sack-re-licious. Seriously, they had tons more. If you need something named, go to my parents.

Here's the latest, and an update to an older bag that need something more (I added the flowers). I am keeping the bigger blue one, for now anyway. Now I have to work on a damn logo and make some business cards and finish the Etsy site. All stuff that is waaay less fun than making the bags. Plus, I have a 3 day reception job this week. "Can you handle multiple phone lines?" "Sure I can. Yep. I sure can."(lie).

It's good, it'll get me out of the house for a few days and force me to dress myself properly.

The couch cover that kept on giving

The newest bags: