'the adventures of a thirty-ish university graduate' or, alternately and perhaps much more aptly: 'as mad as a barking fox'

Thursday, March 31, 2011

brother attack and i react

the sun is just now breaking through the clouds blanketing the sky in the east, and the ground is a thousand different shades of grey from the frost coating everything in sight.

two nights ago patti and heather and shelley and i went to mom's house for dinner. we ate too much, laughed over some delicious wine, and i tried out a new dessert on the ladies (which, given that it was completely demolished, seems to have been a hit). before we sat down to eat, though, patti went running out to her truck and brought in a box of spring flowers- some for mom and some for me.

my dining room smells like blooming hyacinth, and mini daffodils are peeking at me over the top of my computer screen.

i am so excited for spring.

Monday, March 28, 2011

receive and transmit

i live in what is, by definition, a small town. but it is, despite appearances, a town. we have a main street. we have two sets of traffic lights and, if i’m not mistaken, two pedestrian crossing light-up signs as well. the grocery store is open twenty four hours a day (which actually merits and entire aside), the movie store has a foreign film selection, and it’s possible to get a more than decent bottle of wine at the liquor store.

perhaps all of this contributes to the reason why i find hearing lowing cows clearly echoing across the frost-hard ground as i walk home terribly amusing, yet not at all out of place.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

river, show me how to float

i woke up this morning to the radio playing k-os. it amuses me when i hear sunday morning on sunday morning, to be honest.

my coffee is terribly delicious, and i have a sneaking suspicion that i am going to be able to get this afternoon off, as there's next to nothing to do at work bar babysitting. i'm more than sure that don carsones can handle that, so i'm planning on finishing chole's sweater, cleaning out the fridge, vacuuming, finishing some laundry and making spaghetti sauce this afternoon.

the sun is slowly melting all the frost from the front lawn.

i need to go for a run.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

so deep, so wide

when i walk up the road to my house at night, it is back lit by a dark blanket full of stars, interrupted only by the outlines of tree branches.

i came home tonight, the taste of red wine and laughter mingling in my mouth, to a small red flashing light on my phone, and a message that has reduced me to tears of the good variety:

chole, four fifty seven in the afternoon. six pounds, six ounce, twenty inches and dark hair.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

i saw the signs of my undoing

i've got a mug with the dregs of a pot of ginger tea rolling between my two hands, and an open book on my lap. i keep catching whiffs of the bubble bath i used after work this evening- a ginger lime combination- that is bringing back memories of kent street and ottawa.

today at work, i had a five minute conversation with a man trying to convince him that i was not from antigonish. he swore- up and down his mother, apparently- that i was from across the harbour, based on my accent. this is not the first time this has happened. in fact, were i to believe what people have told me regarding my 'accent' i am not only from antigonish, but also conception bay, new waterford, sydney, possible charlottetown, and, if one of my university professors is to be believed, i'm a recent immigrant from right across the ocean, possibly wales, to be specific.

i've yet to be convinced that i actually speak with any kind of accent other than one influenced by the peninsula and, perhaps, the fact that until i was nine i couldn't pronounce the letter s. however, since this is a semi-regular occurrence, perhaps i ought to think about checking out all of my supposed hometowns just to see if i really have an affected form of pronunciation.

i'm more fond of the idea that my east coast accent is simply the salty goodness of the ocean manifesting itself. because that gentleman today- and others in the past- have said that hearing me sounds just like their childhood come to life.

i like the way it makes people smile.

Monday, March 21, 2011

i want to guard your dreams and visions

the last week has consisted of the following:

moving furniture. mud. crows. red wine. skype. laundry. early mornings and late nights combined. a nauseating bus ride. ttc with delightful fake wind included. the first patio lunch of the season. mint essential oil. laughing until my teeth hurt. nail polish. water that tasted like lipstick. eating in bed. even more red wine. fifteen stories of elevator ride. the cleanest cab in the city. prosciutto. salami. potato chips. salami ON potato chips. carrots and guacamole. talking in the dark. the world's most ridiculous shower. the world's heaviest backpack. delicious mexican food. liz and jeffrey. a slick man named phil and a mercedes benz. the gardiner at almost-rush hour. justin timberlake. ketchup. barb's studio. frank and open discussions. almost too much coffee. popcorn down my shirt. the word fuck. yet MORE red wine. long distance telephone calls. informative and entertaining emails. cupboard reorganisation. peter gabriel. smoked catfish and dirty hair.

i might have to sleep for a day to recover, but it was just. so. good.

Monday, March 14, 2011

ignite your bones

i made one freaking delicious meal this evening.

the kitchen is trashed, but not too terribly, and i should probably be cleaning it up, but i am instead lingering over the last few sips of heady italian wine in my glass and listening to a random selection of music my ipod is picking out for me. the cat is curled up on the love seat across the room, full, no doubt, from the insane amount of chicken she managed to pilfer from my guests this evening.

i feel like staying up all night with candles lit, talking about relationships between things, and why all i want to eat is grapefruit, and what would happen if i decided to go backpacking for a few months, and how much i want to grow tomatoes this summer, and why coffee is so effing delicious, and a thousand other things.

come over and stay- i'll make a freaking delicious breakfast in the morning.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

it pains me you've put your foundations so at risk

the floor beneath my feet is solid, sitting on a base of cement rather than hovering over a basement space. the air smells like new wood, murphy's wood oil soap and the heat from a vacuum. the setting sun- all soft pinks and butter yellows- is glinting through the bow window stretching across the room to my left.

i'm in my bare feet, my jeans dusty with the kind of dirt that accumulates when a new house is being finished. there's hand prints in white across my thighs and below my knees. my hair is hanging in small pieces, flat and also covered with dust. my lips are chapped.

and i'm singing at the top of my lungs, dancing in a new space that is going to be so good.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

the sugary snow of springtime

my feet are cold.

i'm tucked into bed, the ugly rough blanket i have a strange affinity for scratches against my feet and legs creating, no doubt, a build up of static electricity i'll be able to see if i turn off my light. i have a bowl of granny smith apple slices to my right, and one of stephen king's books open across my lap. nim is sighing contentedly somewhere below my feet; sleepy, no doubt, from the intense killing of her very own tail she has just finished executing.

there were strange, large animal prints across my front step and lawn this morning. it seems that, despite these last falls of snow and miseries of cold, the world is starting to wake up.

i want to pick out seeds from a catalogue and eating nothing but citrus fruit.

Tuesday, March 08, 2011

they call it hip hop

the sky today was bleached a pale blue, clear from one horizon to the next save for a few jet trails and the shadows of the crows who have returned here to look for any kind of treasure left behind by the slowly melting snow.

while the wind is still cold, and the bay covered with semi-solid pack ice, there's a hint of spring in the air that's entirely unmistakable. i can see it on the kids walking home from high school: their fashion choices are even more daring when the sun is shining and the wind is still. the birds have finally found my juice bottle feeder and the seeds are slowly being consumed. the roads are awash in rivers and piles of sand and salt that colour the pavement, bleaching it and staining it in turn until it looks like some kind of camouflage netting tossed over the ground.

mostly, though, i can feel spring in my bones- like september, i have the sudden urge to start a million and one projects; to clean out the cupboards and start new; to pull out the paint and freshen everything up. i've started reading less intense novels, and i made a true summer dinner last night.

this undercurrent of spring is making it impossible to concentrate.

i expect that tomorrow i'll wake up to a fresh dusting of snow and a harsh west wind. but there's no denying it: old man winter is finished for the year on this good earth.

Monday, March 07, 2011

we live together in a photograph of time

i woke up this morning shortly after seven, the cat grumbling beside my head and the radio turned up far too loud. i was finished with coffee and toast by eight, and spent the next five. freaking. hours. cleaning, because i had an epic fail when it came to being a responsible adult this week.

i seriously found a coffee mug in my shower. seriously.

when i walked downtown, it was to return a few movies (one of which made me cry semi-hysterically for about five minutes because of how dead on it was to so much of life) and purchase a chicken. i ended up buying a bottle of a blended shiraz from the liquor store. i was carded for the first time since i was twenty-one.

i am now listening to music from five years ago and drinking an entirely different red than the one i purchased- a gift from the evil step mother.

oh monday-is-my-saturday night, you're pretty awesome.

Sunday, March 06, 2011

you came in with the breeze

i had one of those mashed-into-the-pillow, sheet-lines-on-your-face, hair-pressed-unnaturally-into-cowlicks sleeps last night. it was fantastic. when i woke up, it was to the cbc playing bittersweet symphony and a small puddle of sunlight creeping up the wall.

i now have a giant mug of coffee in one hand, a piece of toast in the other, and am dancing around to some newly acquired music.

oh, hello sunday!

Friday, March 04, 2011

waves that leave me out of reach

i pick up the phone on the third ring.

"hold the fucking line! don't move! don't fucking move!" is the first thing i hear. there's a strange dissonance in the background, a sort of humming echo, all too familiar at this point in my life. it's overshadowed by even more yelling, though, before i can begin to get a word in. "watch the fucking trays! watch the goddamned- no! right there! hold it steady... hold it steady! boys! good! right there!" there's a small pause, and then: "hello? sorry about that..."

i think it's safe to say that the season has officially started.

Thursday, March 03, 2011

waiting till the shine wears off

i've been on this kick for about three weeks now where all i want to eat is grapefruit. which, honestly, is weird, because i think that before this last week i could count on one hand the number of grapefruits i have eaten in my life.

i ran out of grapefruit today. i ate the last one this afternoon while typing out the end portion of a rather large email- my computer is a bit sticky, to be frank. anyways, i went to the store tonight to replenish my stock of sunny citrus fruit, and ended up buying a small pork loin and some fresh basil as well.

i'm still not sure how my brain decided that grapefruit also meant pork and basil, but dinner was terribly delicious.

simple and slow, it grows

i love when, in listening to an album or a recording that's a "studio" mix, there are small snippets of the singer or the drummer or the bass player or someone else talking, either at the very end or the very beginning of the song. i'm not too sure why this amuses me so much, but i always feel like i've found some kind of treasure when a small phrase or a shouted voice is caught on tape, especially in the background.

i woke up earlier than usual this morning, remembering, suddenly, a small chore i was meant to do at the fish shop.

as soon as i find a shirt, i'm good to go for the day.

Wednesday, March 02, 2011

don't underestimate the things that i will do

double coffee. clean pants. correct addition on the deposit. oatmeal with blackberries. the neighbours dancing to the radio. police officers. a can of tuna. long distance telephone calls of hilarity. dancing in the fish shop. coffee with shelley. grapefruit. email. even more dancing in the fish shop. iron man. running. sauna. salmon dinner. surprise!freezer cake of the gluten and dairy free variety. music videos. bubble bath.

i'm pretty certain that if the next month of days were like today, i wouldn't have anything to complain about.