How to get a seat by yourself on the bus

Step 1:  Carry a book with a creepy or vaguely threatening title.  Example:

It is not necessary to actually read the book, simply having it in your lap, face up, will usually work.  Note, the book above has a creepy title, The Poisoner’s Handbook, but the subtitle Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York is a lot less threatening.  Luckily for us, that part is in much smaller print and should not detract from the creepy factor.

I have found books about how to be a serial killer can also be very useful for this.

All that being said, I’m really enjoying The Poisoner’s Handbook, very interesting stuff.  I also find it infinitely sad how the more things change, the more they stay the same, particularly in politics and bureaucracy when comparing the 1920′s to today.

My only quibble with this book is that some of the stories it touches on are touched on too lightly.  I’m left with more questions than answers and a growing list of old cases and people who I want to go look up to get a better understanding of their motives and to see how it all turned out for them.  I’d still recommend it though.  Do be aware though, some of the science is rather disturbing to read.  Very flat sciencey descriptions of autopsies and experiments.  If you’re a member of PETA, you’ll might wanna give this one a pass.

So, next time in our series of how to secure a seat alone on the bus, extra loud music on your iPod or random twitching and muttering.  Which feels more right for you?

Oh wait, I forgot something

So, on Sunday, after all the yard work I was relaxing in the yard.  Book in hand, sun on my face, dogs scampering around.  Bucolic really.  Then all of a sudden the dogs ran over to the barbecue and began circling it and looking rather frantic.  Stella almost knocked it off the deck.  Odd, no?

I noticed the husband standing at the back door, up 10 steps and 40 feet away, (don’t worry, this is important in a moment), and I asked him what was wrong with his dogs?!?!!?!  He shrugged, they kept running around like mad things, and I was getting frustrated.  The barbecue is relatively new and I don’t feel like having it ruined by spastic dogs.

Hubby gives his opinion, ‘Maybe there’s something in the barbecue.  Open it up.”

“Um, no.  You come open it.  You’re the male after all.”  Not proud, I totally went the sexist wimpy female route.

“Maybe it’s a rat,” he says, “just open the lid and see.”

What followed was a back and forth of no and yes and you do it and I’m not going to do it and you’re mental if you think I’m going to open this thing.

Finally, I manned up (ironic, right?), and opened the barbecue lid.  Yep, a rat.  A bit one too.  All brown and quivering whiskers and shiny black eyes just sitting there in the farthest corner away from me on top of the grill.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love rodents.  I’ve shared my home with hamsters, gerbils, degus, mice, rats, and rabbits.  Rodents are lovely creatures.  Just not wild and in my barbecue and apparently eating leftover bits from the grills.  Down went the lid.  I’m proud to say I didn’t drop or slam down the lid, but I did close it at a pretty good rate of speed.  Hubby tells me there was a rather unique squealing noise emitting from my mouth.  I have no memory of this.

Hubby then stepped in to help, again from the relative safety of 10 steps up and 40 feet away.  “Open the lid and let it out.”  The dogs wholeheartedly backed this plan of action.  They were still dancing around and whining like fools.

Me, “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, you #*$&(&$.  You come down here and deal with this.”

Again with the yes, no, you do it, no you do it, I’m so not doing it conversation.  I swear, he was smirking.  I have no proof of this as it was awfully sunny and I’m a bit blind, but I’m pretty sure he was amused by the entire thing.

FINE.  Yep, said it just like that.  You women out there, you know the FINE I’m talking about.    I opened that lid and now Mr. Ratty was in the corner right beside me, frightened by the dogs no doubt.  More whiskers and little shiny black eyes and then he flung himself over the edge of the barbecue, (luckily not close to my hand or I would have dropped the lid and squished him, and zipped away into the bushes. The dogs completely missed the escape and rattus barbecueus was safely away.

Husband was giggling like a fool because apparently I was making the high-pitched squeally noise again.  Bad man.

A most excellent Monday!

Usually Mondays are not everyone’s most favourite day.  This Monday was much different.  It was really quite spectacular.  Keep in mind that this is taking into account the fact that Wednesday is a full moon and all of our more ‘interesting’ clients are starting their monthly call barrage.  But even that could not dim the light that was this extra great Monday.

Why was it so great?  We took a load of green waste (blackberry canes & stuff that was too big for the new chipper of death) to the dump!  Okay, not actually a dump.  Surrey doesn’t have a dump anymore, we have a ‘transfer station‘.  I still call it the dump though.  It smells like a dump, people are dropping off all kinds of interesting things, it’s the dump.  End of story.

See, here’s the deal.  I love the dump.  I love the smell of it, I love looking at the stuff that people are getting rid of, I love the thought of rummaging around in all that stuff for buried treasure.  I get all skittish just thinking about it.  No really, I’m not kidding, I love the dump.  The thought of working there makes me shiver, just a little bit.  Well, except for the signs that say “NO SALVAGING!”  Party poopers!

Anyway, today we were on the green waste side of the facility to drop off some yard waste.  It will be shredded up and composted into some lovely soil that we’ll probably buy back in a year or two.

Good-bye yard waste!  I’m so happy you’re no longer cluttering up my yard!

Look, just over there, that’s where people are dropping off their garbage.  Sweet!

Treasure I tell you!  Oh, and people look at you very oddly when you’re taking pictures at the dump.  Hubby, he just sort of shakes his head sadly.

Then, as we were leaving the dump I saw that there was a truck loaded up on what I assume is a device for emptying out wood chips.   I never seem to have my camera when a truck is on there, but today, magic!

Seriously, how cool is that?  Now, imagine you are Mr. Truckdriver and you’ve just been to Tim Horton’s and bought a coffee before you head over to unload your truck.  You forget said coffee in the cab when you get out.  Nice mess for you to clean up, no?

Hubby calls this the Surrey space shuttle.  Then there were some Viagra type jokes.  We’re nothing if not predictable.  Then he told me to stop taking pictures and put my hands down so he could see if any cars were coming.  I am a most annoying wife.

But wait, there’s more!  When I got home, there was magic in my mailbox too.

A new Kaleidotrope.  The perfect end to a perfect day.

We also got pizza on the way home.  The perfection of the day is almost more than I can bear.  Hopefully your Monday is also brilliant.

Shoot!

Today was to be the day where we went back and forth to the dirt store (nursery, whatever) and got the soil for our raised beds.  First we had to make a trip to the dump and get rid of a load of renovation garbage then we were off to the dirt store.  Got all loaded up with a load of nice organically rich soil and  headed back to the freeway.

Over the overpass, turn around to go back to the freeway entrance, and…stall.  Hmmm, odd.  The truck had been running so well.  What the heck?  Started her back up and tried it again.  No power, strange vibration noise in the exhaust system, another sound sort of like a miss.  Not cool.  How are we supposed to get a Ford F250 full of dirt home?  Okay, let’s try limping along with our four ways on on all the back roads.  Yep, that’s a surefire way to annoy those behind you.

I didn’t know I could hold my breath that long.  46 blocks, 41 blocks, 30 blocks, getting closer, in the home stretch now. 20 blocks, 13 blocks, 7 more blocks, almost there.  And we made it.  We have no idea what’s wrong with her but needless to say, the one load of dirt was all she brought home today.

With that load we were able to fill one bed and 1/4 of another bed.

Not the most productive of days, unfortunately.   Oh well, we’ll get it done eventually, once we figure out how to teleport the dirt into the back yard.  I did get my Sweet Pea, Cosmos, California Poppy, and wildflower seeds planted though.  Silver lining.

After the dirt was in the first bed I mentioned to hubby that we’d be able to plant 4 vampires when all was said and done.  He disagreed, thought we could plant 8.  I think he’s wrong though, wouldn’t a vampire want a single not a double?  Anyway, happy Sunday.

Gardening? I think we’ve gone a bit beyond that.

Today was a bit more heavy labour at the old homestead.  The scorched earth policy re: blackberries and buttercups continues apace.  Hubby made his final decision about how he wanted to build the raised beds for our veggies.  A trip to Lee Valley was in order for some fancy schmancy galvanized corners.  Then he was off to Home Depot to buy the wood and started the great raised be build off of aught 10.

Added bonus was that all that shredded and chipped material we made with the new chipper a couple of weeks ago?  It is now in use as garden paths.  We are all about reduce, reuse, recycle.

First we laid a layer of cardboard to inhibit weed growth, then placed the boxes and raked out the chips.  Ta and Da.

They are 4′ by 8′ and about 15″ deep.  Spiff, eh?  Must be, they seem to be terrier approved.

Moved the herb tire into the centre with a couple of small rhodos and some mint.  Now we just have to bring home a butt load of soil to fill them up.  ‘Cause these guys are going to be ready to go outside in another couple of weeks.

Three kinds of zucchini and butternut squash.

Space is at such a premium that the seedlings above are now on top of the dove’s cage in the birdroom.  It was the last flat surface with a nice sunny window.  The dove seems confused about his new roof garden.

And finally, what is the sexy urban female gardener wearing this season?  A babushka, of  course.

Oh yeah, I am so rocking this look.  LOL.

What’s causing this need for growing our own food?  I blame way too many hours spent watching KVOS TV and in particular British sitcoms from the 70′s.  What other reason could there be?

Best transit story ever

When I read Plastic Alligator’s (aka Erin’s)  recent blog post of transit adventures I thought that there could be no more fabulous transit story.  I might have been wrong though, ’cause on Monday the following happened as I waited for the bus.

Picture it in your mind, it’s 3:00 pm on a weekday in Surrey and the sun is shining and warm.  As I am waiting for the bus an older gentleman (60 or 65 ish) rolls up on his scooter.  The scooter is all shiny red and metallic, very spiffy.  He pulls the scooter up super close to me and almost runs over my foot.  I’m not too sure how to deal with this and being the Canadian I am, I fight the urge to apologize and move out of his way, even though he almost ran me down.

Then he speaks.  He sound a little like Chekhov but much deeper and more gravelly.  Kind of like this guy:

And as he spoke, it all kind of went like this,

*RSD – Vat is your name? (and now I’m going to stop doing the accent, you just let your imagination do the strongest Russian/Eastern European accent ever)

T – my name is Tammy.  What is your name?

RSD – something incredibly Russian, perhaps Ivanigoranovski?  Just guessing you understand.)

RSD – Hello Tanny, it is very nice to meet you. (I don’t bother to correct him)

We shake hands.

RSD – Come, we go for lunch.

T – Um, I can’t.  I have to get home and feed my dog.  (Yes, I really did say that.  Weak?  Lame?  Oh yes, I think so.  Not, oh I can’t, I have to meet husband.  No, no.  I must get home and feed my dog.  Sigh.  Dork!)

RSD – No, no!  Come!  We go to ABC and have fish!  We have lunch!

T – Um, no, really, I can’t.  I have to get home to my dog. (dork!)

RSD – No, no!  We must go have fish!  We go to ABC and have lunch.  (At this point he slaps his right thigh, like I”m supposed to climb into his lap up on the scooter with him and ride off into the ABC sunset?  Oy.)

He now backs the scooter up a couple of feet, looks me up and down all come hither like and says:

RSD – You beautiful big girl!  You fill my arms up good!  (He opens his arms up wide at this point.  Like I’m going to jump into them or something?!?!?) Come, we go to have fish at ABC! ( I kid you not.  I could not make this stuff up if I tried.)

T – Umm, yeah, I really can’t.  Thanks so much for the invite though.  Gotta get home.  Hahahaha.  (Uncomfortable laugh inserted here.)

RSD – Ah, okay then.

And away he went, zipping away to ABC on his scooter.

Hey, I still got it apparently.  Well, as far as older Russian guys on scooters go.  Snort!

Last night’s anniversary dinner was magnificent.  Wanna see it?

You can find the recipe here.  I also wrapped the chicken breast in a bit o’ Rosemary ham.  We stuffed it with pear and Gouda cheese and some herbs de Provence.  Tres chi chi eh!

Also, a little warning for you, a whole bottle of champagne on a Tuesday night?  Not a great idea if you have to work on Wednesday.  Just saying.  It sure was tasty though. 

*Russian Scooter Driver

Time flies when you’re having fun

Fourteen years of it to be exact.

I remember it being a lot warmer and sunnier on this day 14 years ago though.  Brrrrr.  Hubby was feeling all squishy and stuff and brought home a lovely bottle of champagne to celebrate our anniversary.  The pear?  It’s to be peeled, sliced and then stuffed into chicken breasts with some Gouda cheese and Rosemary ham.  A little rice pilaf and some steamed asparagus with lemon and butter and voila!  Super anniversary dinner.

Remind me to tell you my most awesome transit story ever tomorrow though, k?

Warning: This post may contain nudity of the springtime kind

Like this:

Yesterday was amazing and warm and sunny and breezy and perfect.  Hubby cut the grass and my toes were just begging to feel the blades of lovely green. We were hoping to get a tonne of yard work done yesterday but it turned into a day of errand instead.  Groceries, library, pet food, signing the new mortgage, etc. etc. etc.  You know how it is.

In the afternoon the dogs and I decided it was pre-summer lounging time.

Apple blossoms - I'm going to eat your babies!

Gunnera on the grow

Gunnera

Dancing frogs

Stella is still coned, but pretty happy nonetheless

Got some lovely Polwarth spun up

Mr. Beentsy contemplating what needs doing in the yard

Jane concurs, it was a lovely day at home

Apparently today will not be nearly so easy-going.  I think the chipper is coming out for a repeat performance.  Eep!

Oh, and the killer bright sock?  It’s Socks That Rock lightweight in the Spawn of Braun colourway.  I’m almost done the first sock.

And Mrs. Quimby tells me that Guy Gavriel Kay has a new book.  I’m #8 on the reserved list from the library.  Now, go see Mrs. Quimby’s completed Viking Sweater of Doom.  It’s finished, it’s gorgeous, and it’s ready to go do some pillaging. 

Beets, it’s whats for dinner (last night that is)

Last week ( I think it was last week?), I put out a call on twitter asking folks for some dinner veggie suggestions.  Heather came up with one of my new favourites, beets!  Unfortunately I didn’t have any in the house, but the thought of those lovely ruby-red roots (nice alliteration eh?) stuck with me.  Finally, yesterday I could stand it no more and to the grocery store I went.  For those of you who’ve never cooked beets, be prepared for your hands to look like this:

This was after washing with soap and a nail brush.  I had decided that my beets wanted to be Borscht.  Wanna see some made crazy colour?

Can you imagine that colour in yarn?  Mmmmmmmm.  Hey, Yarnpiggy or Damselfly, can I dye with these things?  After all was said and done and cooked, super yummy soup with a sour cream topping and lot’s of fresh ground pepper looked a little bit like this:

It was awesome, and those little crusty multi-grain buns were the perfect addition.

Now, Stella would like to thank all of you for your well wishes.  She’s doing really good and her ear is looking great.  She’s still in the cone of silence for another week, but I think she’s sort of getting used to it.

I also wanted to answer some questions from comments.

• Monica asked how old Stella was.  She’s about 6 or 7.  She was an SPCA adoption so we’re not exactly sure.
• Elan suggested we get her a puppy friend so that one day (bahahahaha) Mr. B and I could possibly take a vacation.  I wish that would work.  Stella doesn’t like other dogs, even though she lives with two other dogs.  Mind you, she could just be doing a big act to ensure that she gets to go on vacation.  Hmmmm, I wonder if she’s that smart?
• Suzanne (No blog?  Why no blog Suzanne?  Join us!) suggested that maybe my heels are not as much the problem as high arches are for my sock shaping issues.  I think she is exactly right.  Yay, my feet are deep, not wide!  LOL.
• Ginger, you are absolutely right, Abbie needs some form of comeuppance.  I keep threatening her that I’m going to bring in Cesar Millan to whip her attitude into shape. 
• Lizz (I miss your blog posts Lizz. It was so nice to see you on twitter though!) spoke about how much she likes Guy Gavriel Kay and about another book of his, Ysabel, which I also really liked.  See, two sets of thumbs up.  He’s really that good, and Canadian.  Go on, give him a read. 

Okay, I’m out.  I’m making Chicken Madras for dinner and it’s time to get started.  Oh, wait, one more thing.  Look at this super happy killer colour sock that I’m currently knitting:

Take that grey and windy days!

How much?

Stella finally had to get her ear stitched up.  Her head shaking and rubbing it every time she could get out of her cone were just too much for the poor little ear.  It didn’t have a hope of healing on its own.

The vet kept her in overnight last night and she had surgery this morning.  She also got her teeth cleaned and a little bump removed from the back of her neck.  Just think how confused she must have been when she woke up this afternoon?  Hey, my ear hurts.  Hey, my neck hurts!  HEY!  What’s up with my TEETH????  Poor thing.

Anyway, $619.90 later and some post operative anaesthetic leftovers and you get this:

I can't hardly hold up my head. Turn the bowl for me, k?

This is her almost nodding off into a bowl of wet food.  She had to lay down to eat, kind of kept tipping to one side.  She refused to eat, drink, pee, or anything else while at the vet’s overnight.  They said she pretty much just shut down after I left and just starred at the wall and didn’t want anything to do with anything all night and this morning.  It was her first night away from her humans and she was not best pleased.  If we ever actually go for a vacation we’ll have to take her with us or she might just dehydrate or starve to death.

The cats were kind of freaked out by her.  I’m assuming she must smell funny, Beentsy and Mo Cuirdh keep wandering over and starring at her and sniffing the air like you or I might if there was something stuck to the bottom of our shoe.

Note the canned food in her cone.  Note her trying to lick up the canned food in her cone.  I could have watched that all day, but I didn’t.  I got a paper towel and cleaned her up.  Dog mom of the year, I am it.  LOL.

Best part, the vet tech was explaining all the post-op sort of problems that Stella may have.

• Lack of depth perception and balance, may walk into things.  Yeah, she already does that.
• May drink too much (due to the tube down her throat during the operation) and then possibly throw up.  Yeah, she already does that.
• Since her teeth were cleaned you may notice she drools quite a bit for the next few days.  Yeah, she already does that.
• She may get confused easily, wander off, and become distressed.  It’s best to keep her in a small area until she’s feeling better.  Umm, yeah, she kind of already does that too.

Kid you not, the vet tech was looking at me like, ‘Dude, what is WRONG with your dog?’  Meh, she’s just Stella and that’s what Stella is like.