1. My house burning down.
2. My iBook dying.
3. Rampant, unyielding depression overtaking me.
4. Marauding mimes taking up residence in my front yard.
5. The annexation of Canada.
6. A plague of locusts touching down.
7. Writer’s block.
8. Internet trolls.
9. Global warming.
10. Food poisoning.
you make my heart break perfectly
into so many pieces for me to give away
like stones by the water waiting to be tossed
or stars born to shine in a million far-off eyes.
you make my soul speak volumes
to fill libraries and bookcases and shelves
like words in a dictionary waiting to be invented
or verses penned by poets yet to write.
you make me happy like nothing else
happy enough to sing out in my own voice
like a canary testing air in the coal mine
or a child in a dark room, humming herself to sleep.
you make me want to be with you
long enough to know everything about ‘we’ and ‘us’
to know your hands tracing the braille of my spine
to have eyes that meet and never part.
1. Carolina — Matt Wertz
2. Save Room — John Legend
3. And You Were — Molly Jenson
4. 1234 — Feist
5. What Goes Around — Justin Timberlake
6. Because I Told You So — Jonatha Brooke
7. It Looks Like Love — Josh Rouse
8. Girl in the War — Josh Ritter
9. You Can Bring Me Flowers — Ray LaMontagne
And you?
I’m addicted to the Weather Network.
I really, really am.
Even though I sit beside a giant window at work, I still check it several times a day to get the latest scoop.
I marvel at the sudden probability of sunshine, or the perpetual rain warnings, or even the freakish snow forecasts that show up now and then.
Sometimes I look to see how the weather is where other people live… people I love, people who read my blog, even random people living in Cambridge Bay, Nunavet.
I just like knowing.
Everyone else thinks it’s weird, but I think it’s significantly LESS weird than when I was addicted to the Highway Conditions Channel in Edmonton. I mean, I didn’t even have a car. But it was pretty damn thrilling when one of the routes would be coloured bright red: “CLOSED DUE TO DETERIORATING WEATHER.”
Other odd obsessions of mine include:
Facebook (LET ME GO, EVIL SITE)
Shopping for produce (I wish you could buy cherries ALL YEAR ROUND)
Havaianas
Gmail
Sunshine
The Beeb
Penguins
Tall men
Texting
70’s soul music
Coffee
Burning lip gloss (Lip Venom, Too-Faced Extreme Lip Injection)
Playoff hockey (GO CANUCKS! AAAAH!)
Antihistamines
Trying to make my hair bigger (impossible)
Happy Planet Juices (especially Clean Green and Abundant C)
Thai curry
Goldfish
Puppies
Choosing a new perfume (down to Burberry Brit and FlowerByKenzoSummer, Fresh Hesperides)
Cherry Blossoms
Banana loaf
Marinades
Finding the perfect Hot Wing
Big rings
Pandas
What frivolous things do you get stuck on (if you give them the chance in your busy day)?
What can’t you stop thinking about?
Game One, Canucks vs. Stars.
GO CANUCKS GO!!
Update: After 4 OT periods, the game went to us… Canucks 5, Stars 4. Roberto Luongo stopped 74 shots. This is truly awesome, save for the fact that OUR DEFENSE LET 74 SHOTS MAKE IT TO THE NET.
Sigh.
It’s impossible to write about beauty.
I mean, poets DO manage it, and perhaps songwriters find SOMETHING to say, and yes… there are thousands of “For My Wife” Hallmark cards that babble about “timelessness” and how “you’re more lovely today than you were the day I married you, when you were still working out and wearing something other than sweatpants, and man, do I miss those days… never mind.”
But when I try and do it, I come up short (actually, that happens when I do most things, but let’s not talk about the high shelves at the grocery store.)
I can’t quite communicate a sky or a wave or what babies hands look like or how old peoples’ faces crease when they smile or a perfect beam in a perfect ceiling or a white sheet on the line or the insides of flowers or sunshine on wet dog noses.
Everything just ends up sounding cheesy.
So, I revert to lists. And somewhere in the midst of the list (say that four times fast), my idea of what is beautiful emerges without adjectives and falderal.
That works for me.
So here goes:
Pomegranate seeds
Celadon pots
SoCal ocean cliffs
Coronation grapes, still in blush
Old hand mirrors
Campfire light
Mountain waterfalls
Christmas trees
Bubbles in seltzer
Tortoiseshell glasses
White, smooth sand
Old world globes
Blue Italian glass tile
Lemon rinds
Warm-skinned vine tomatoes
Brown eggs
Barely-bloomed peonies
Cow eyelashes
Baby thighs
Pale pink sari silk
Japanese lanterns
Near-black oily coffee beans
The insides of mussel shells
Sourdough crust
Grandma diamonds
Red Aga cookers
Grandfather sweaters
Milk glass
Eyelet
Caramel apples
Overbloomed magnolia trees
Sailboat canvas
Old stainless steel watches on tanned arms
Untouched sketchbook pages
Hand-worn guitar necks
Sunsets reflected on water
Tell me ten beautiful things off the top of your head (and the first person to say “hair” gets it.)
… and you’re appalled by the crappy coverage the CBC is giving our playoff run on their websites, etc., click here and TELL THEM.
And tell them I sent you!
Enough of this East Coast-centric crap!
The Ceeb has always ignored the West to some degree, but when they’re spelling our players’ names wrong, and writing two words about the Canucks to every other team’s fifty?
Yeah. Click the link.
And while it won’t stick? Man, it’s nice to hear.
Young girls, listen to your Auntie Meg.
While men will forever be gonzo for pretty girls with pretty skin and pretty bodies, and while youth will always be the easiest time to make your mistakes, there is zero to be gained from the kind of attention creeps like Joe Francis give you.
It’s not sexy, it’s not fun, it’s not silly, it’s not “wild”, and they certainly don’t care about you or your future or your happiness or even your safety. And no matter how savvy and smart you are, it’s hard to take care of yourself in a world where the goal is to take advantage of whatever innocence you possess.
There’s a big difference between using “party” as a verb now and then and forgetting what you did last night… until you see it on the internet.
Because the Internet was made for innovators.
You’re joining the game mid-stream. Among the words on the board?
Gummy
Zit
Gild
Jotted
I have the Q. This is crap, because there are no open U spots and I don’t possess any U tiles.
I play “zing”. This is an awesome word. I feel good.
However, what you might not know is that (despite my early childhood nerdiness about words) Catherine kicks my ass royally every time.
We don’t even need to be actually playing the game to do it. She just sets out the box and my blood sugar drops, tears come to my eyes, and I experience an unfortunate sweating issue.
Catherine’s top five Scrabble tips:
1. Play stupid people.
2. Play them again.
3. Say, “No, I’m sure you beat other people.” and giggle.
4. Play them again.
5. The Scrabble Dictionary: Never leave home without it.
Eric’s top one Scrabble tip:
1. Don’t play Catherine.
Meg’s top one Scrabble tip:
1. Play Eric.
Now for my next word…
“Toy”
I suck. At least I had a double letter box. On the Y!
My next one?
“Zinger”
Catherine is dominating much more than she needs to at this point. She’s like Tiger Woods. She doesn’t even feel the need to pretend we’re on her level. Nike just knocked at the door and offered her an endorsement deal.
Soon?
Air Catherine.
My latest word is “lint.” This is also 80% of the contents of my brain, the other 20% being some combination of coffee beans and neurons.
Who am I kidding?
There are no neurons.
My next word was “Wean”. Which is what someone should do with me and Scrabble.
Catherine dumped out her letter holder on the board and they spontaneously spelled shit themselves. She’s like all voodoo and things and stuff.
I tried the same thing with mine, and all they could come up with is “bale.”
And not Christian, mind you. Just the hay.
Catherine is now rearranging her letters without using her hands. It’s so Uri Geller.
We’re getting down to the last tiles. I believe Catherine has nine of them stashed in her back pocket, but we’re pretending we didn’t notice.
I have the F and the Q.
FQ!
Do you get it? I hope my mom didn’t.
We’re SO going to have to play again. I can’t lose this badly and still respect myself in the morning.
I just added an S to “pings”.
Catherine is soon going to place something like “pythagorean” or “metaphysics”.
She only has two tiles, but as Walt Disney says, anything is possible if you believe.
Actually, Eric ended up going out first. But that’s only because I began to cry and they took mercy.
I came in third.
NEW GAME!
I break in the board with the word “goon”. Auspicious, no?
Eric spells “yolk”.
(insert several other unsuccessful turns in here. it’s too painful to note.)
Catherine is making her letters dance across the room. It’s amazing. One of them is now singing an aria. This girl is in CONTROL.
(time passes)
She took longer than 30 seconds to come up with a word, but it was worth it: 178 points off of the word “bud”. And if you don’t think that’s possible, check out the boot marks on Eric’s ass.
Eric, however, spells “ambiguity” and manages to only get two points.
Do you see where the issue is?
(time passes)
I just spelled “hope”. Yet I lack that one thing more than any other at this point. Four tiles.
R A U N
N A R U
U A R N
A R U N
Awesome. I rock. Catherine’s tiles just performed The Magic Flute.
Eric’s tiles are performing cover tunes from 80’s hair bands.
My tiles?
Nada.
OOOH. I spelled “Qua”. If only that were enough to make anything happen.
Eric ended up dropping out of the game after Catherine blew past him by 100 points.
Catherine has gone to bed. My eyes are puffy from crying. Eric swallowed a tile and died.
THE END.
