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Saturday, April 8, 2006
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the only common thread is bliss.
I'm a bit Saturday-drowsy.
I slept in too late in hopes of compensating for a week of little slumber. I know that doesn't really work -- apparently, sleep is not something that one banks. Still, I've always thought I could train my body to store rest like a squirrel stuffs their cheeks full of nuts for use at a later date.
I'm just trying to stuff my sleep cheeks. As it were.
Now my sleep cheeks are causing me to drag my heels a little. And that's fine. All I've absolutely got to do today is wrestle with a few loads of laundry and some other assorted household and life chores (one of which is a pedicure, since I ripped off half my toenail crawling on the carpet at work.)
(There was a baby there, for those of you that have seen Secretary and were getting all sorts of thoughts.)
When my head is like this, the best I can usually do as far as writing goes is to either babble incoherently (hence the first portion of this email) or make annotated lists (hence the portion of the email to follow.)
Here's what is a-tickle in my tiny little world right now:
Apartment listings: Alright. I know that NO ONE in their right mind REALLY enjoys moving, and I'm well aware that packing and cleaning and slugging boxes will cause me to squint like a mob moll when the time actually comes. But I'm rather enamoured of wading through the descriptions of potential homes right now. Imagine having hardwood floors! Imagine having a dishwasher! Imagine in-suite laundry! Imagine big windows! And the marvelous thing is, those items are not nearly as uncommon as we first believed they would be. Why -- we could end up with a rather charming spot with at least 75% of our original "wants" list! Considering that wherever we go likely WON'T have tiles dropping off the tub walls like lemmings off a cliff, and WON'T have an in-house Wookie crying at all hours, and WON'T have a leaky ceiling or a tap-that-has-dripped-for-two-damn-years, that's a pretty thrilling prospect. Not to mention that we'll be in a new neighbourhood undoubtely RIPE for exploration! There's much to be happy about in this circumstance, and when all the fuss of relocation has come and gone, we'll be able to set up shop just as we like in a completely fresh spot. Produce shopping: I'm quite lucky, I think, in that I have several locations where decent produce can be had within a five-minute walk or a ten-minute drive. This all depends on the time of year, of course, since some seasons seem to yield nothing but potatoes and onions and pale, grainy tomatoes the size of a baby's fist. Generally, we do a bit better, though. Right now, it seems like the markets are RIFE with a variety of ubercolourful fruits and vegetables (in-season or not, I can never remember what time of year things are supposed to grow) and I can't help but want to fill my little green basket with blood oranges and mangoes and pomegranates and organic field greens and fat, fragrant lemons with thick, sushine-y peels. It's all rather delirious. And the best part? If you go to the right places, you can get bagfuls and bagfuls for less than $20. I LOVE FRESH AND CHEAP. I mean... in produce... not men. Bath products: Okay, we've established on this blog that I am a girly girl of epic proportions -- as much as I can be within my limited budget and my discomfort with too much artifice, mind you. That said, bath products are addictive because a) they smell damn good; and b) they don't REALLY affect how you look, so you can't screw up your appearance if you use the wrong one (unless you develop an oozing rash, which, as you can likely guess, is not something most girly girls enjoy or want to cultivate.) I LOVE salt scrubs and shower gels and bubble baths and bath bombs (Okay, for those of you that don't know what a bath bomb is, it's not a WMD, but rather a ball made of bicarbonate-like material that contains herbs and essential oils and good stuff like that. When you drop it into your bathtub, it dissolves and disperses the contents into your bathtub.). Basically, if it leaves me soft and moisturized and exfoliated and smelling good, I dig it. My favourites include the Lush 'Butterball', Fresh 'Brown Sugar Scrub', Philosophy Coconut Gel, Bliss Lemon Peel, anything L'Occitane with Verbena, and Tom's of Maine Calendula soap (which smells like childhood to me, for some reason, though I don't think we used anything but the Tom's of Maine toothpaste in Cinnamint when I was growing up.) For someone with serious sinus condition, smelly stuff sure does seem important to me. Maybe it's my way of insuring that I don't stink (in a bad way) without knowing it... Laundry: I just went to the laundry room to put a load in the dryer and pop another into the washer, and a man and his wife who also live in the building walked by and said hello. I heard them talking once they walked out the door into the back lot, and she said to him, "Well, she looks happy!" and he said, "Yes, she always does when I see her in the laundry room." And never a truer word was spoken. I love Bounce sheets and stain removal and yummy warm white towels. It's like a personal haven of OCD hope, my laundry room, even if I do have to plug enough change into those machines to make a carnival monkey dance for a week. - These baby pictures: My cousin Greg and his wife Crystal have a beautiful baby girl named Aayla that I have not yet met, but I've seen quite a few pictures. And now I share them with you, because I know you people like them, even if the thought of having children terrifies the life out of you.
 
5:05:19 PM 
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don't get caught with your pants... uh.
The buses on my route in Vancouver were HOOPED today. Nothing was going according to the proper schedule. No one looked happy. Everyone just wanted to GET HOME.
It's a FRIDAY. Who wants to delay the weekend because Translink can't schedule themselves out of a paper bag?
But we were delayed. And standing in a giant clump on the side of the road.
Then HE got off the bus.
350 lbs... CONSERVATIVELY... and carrying a large backpack full of clanking bottles. He wore a t-shirt and sweatpants, and the two did not meet to cover his ample girth. His belly hung over his waistband and swayed gently as he walked.
We were all watching him as he fussed with his bag and headed for the bench.
Not because he was large. And not because of the bottles, which turned out to be fo'tys of Colt 45 (Billy Dee would be proud.)
No.
We stared because his pants were falling off.
The woman next to me mentioned it to me in a whisper, and it was all I could do to not say, "HOW DO YOU THINK I COULD HAVE MISSED THAT? He's got more crack than Marion Barry!"
Instead I nodded sagely and tried not to look. She wondered if someone should tell him. She looked at the guy on the other side of me, sizing him up as a potential candidate. He seemed to realize what she had in mind, and informed her in no uncertain terms that he was not up for the job.
I mean, really. Who among us would be EXCITED to approach the big man with the malt liquor and tell him to yank up his trou a little?
And then it happened.
When he bent to sit on the bench, the pants came off. I think I heard his drawstring cry out, and then all... something... broke loose.
Eyes widened.
Faces turned away.
Teenage girls giggled.
The young Japanese woman seated next to him on the bench looked as though she wanted to crawl out of her skin.
The man on the other side of me grimaced, and whispered, "Just goes to show that you don't know where those benches have BEEN."
Well. We knew now. Ours was pinned beneath a MASSIVE PAIR OF NEKKID CHEEKS. His bag of booze and his belly obscured his lap, so we were spared that particular show.
He cracked one of the bottles, humming softly, seemingly unaware that he was mooning a large group of commuters (or secretly pleased. Who can know?)
Just when I thought I couldn't hold my giggles in any longer, two buses came around the curve. Bench Guy asked the group if his bus was one of the buses approaching and it was indeed the second in line.
Mine was the one just in front of it, and I hopped on as it pulled up to the curb. So did the woman next to me, though she'd already told me this wasn't her bus. She noticed me giving her an odd look, and shuddered with a dramatic flourish.
"I had to do SOMETHING. I couldn't stay and watch him STAND UP."
Happy Friday, y'all.
12:30:35 AM
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© Copyright
2006
Meg Fowler.
Last update:
5/1/06; 1:35:50 AM. |
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it is a very sad thing that nowadays, there is so little useless information. ~ oscar wilde today's ooh! item:
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