Justifiable Dog-icide

So. It would seem that Geordie has heretofore unsuspected depths of badness. Today as I was returning from a friend's the little monster suddenly took it upon himself to go the other way. Which would have been all good except I was going really fast. On my bike. And was oblivious to his change of heart until I was flying through the air in a pretty good if somewhat short-lived imitation of Superman. To make matters worse I was not wearing my helmet, which required some pretty funky moves to keep my melon from smacking the asphalt. I managed to skid to a stop on my right elbow, which would have been fine except that in doing so I sprained my shoulder pretty bad.
On the plus side, now I have an excuse to sit around and do nothing. On the downside, I can't pull up my own pants without inducing severe pain... But I guess life's like that. Six of one, half a dozen of the other... No matter how you slice it, I figure I'm lucky. A friend of mine fractured two vertebra last week, and I'm glad not to be living that.

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Midnight Rambles

So. Went to see Rise of the Silver Surfer tonight (which I thought was better than the first Fantastic Four movie, not that that's saying much) with Nic, almost ran out of gas on the way there and arrived with seconds to spare. Since we had no time to visit before the show started I suggested we hit Timmy's afterwards but Nic (being Nic) had a better idea. His cousin (or aunt or something) was camping at a certain location not far away, and would I like to go see her (bearing in mind it's nearly midnight). I'm not entirely sure I had ought to say exactly where the place was, suffice it to say it is a place known for hauntings and people have odd and disturbing incidents there in broad daylight. But hey, it's Saturday night and what else is there to do in this neck of the woods. So we head up there and find his aunt (or cousin or whatever) and she suggests a stroll through this place (she must work there as she had a key). And I'm thinking no way. Except I'm even more disinclined to stay outside on my own. And everyone is kind of laughing at me, but Nic grabs onto my hoodie as we walk down the hall, which completely creeps me out during the day, never mind after dark (the hall that is, not Nic grabbing my hoodie). I swear to Gitche Manitou I still have goosebumps. Thinking of smudging before going to bed...
Sorry there's no picture for this post, but as I question the legality of the evening's activities perhaps it's for the best.

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Has It Really Been a Month?

Wow. I just realized that I haven't written for a month. Also I gave my blog address to someone who bought eggs from me at the Farmer's Market, forgetting what my last post was about. Doyle, if you read this, please disregard the post about the eggs. I'm sure that weird egg was just the last gasp effort of one of the old hens, all of which have since been sent off to the auction (where I like to believe they were bought by a kindly old lady who will take the home and knit them sweaters or something equally warm and fuzzy).

So. I'm sure you're all (that's right my three quasi-regular readers, I'm addressing this to you) wondering what has happened in the land of Solomon since May 22. Not much, is the answer, but I'll update you nonetheless. So here goes in no particular order:

My brother shaved off his beard for the first time in years.

Geordie has grown bigger (and I suspect, badder as well). Here he is with some pilfered ice.

I rode a horse (on purpose).

Which gave me an excuse to unearth these from the back of my closet (there are other, far scarier things in there).

My sister and her boys came to visit. Here's Becky and my mom:

Gavyn, age 13. With his Buddha. Which I couldn't explain even if I wanted to.

Apparently he just can't make a nice smile for the camera. How 13 of him. He's far handsomer than one might suspect from these photos. Honest...

Evan age 11.

And with Gavyn's Buddha.

Here's three generations of hands.

Also, Ana and Mackenzie have become friends despite the fact she calls him Ma-gunjee, and when he's not around she refers to him as "just an extra boy"

I picked lots of salmonberries.

And made various jams and jellies to sell at the Farmer's Market.

So that's it, really. Nothing too exciting just life as usual. It's odd, it seems that the less I do the less I want to do, and less efficient I become. Needless to say, I have yet to find a job. I thought I had something lined up but it has fallen through, so back to the search (which now feels like a hopeless quest). I am hopeful that I will be off to school in September, but as it is not yet certain, I'm not exactly gonna go find an apartment and put down a deposit and all that, which makes me worry that I'll be forced to live in a ditch somewhere in Comox with several thousand dollars worth of camera equipment. On the plus side my band has sponsored me for school, drastically reducing the amount of money I'll have to beg, borrow or steal to make it through the year. I am truly blessed.

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Eggs

I do not like eggs. Not on a boat with a goat in the rain, etc., etc,.etc... It's not that I don't eat eggs, as they are rather hard to avoid, but I really just can't enjoy them, especially if I think about what it is I'm eating while I'm eating it (if that makes any sense at all). I think it has something to do with knowing where they come from (ever seen a cloaca?). If I don't think about what it is I'm eating, and if I'm hungry enough, I don't mind hard boiled eggs, or hard fried eggs, but eating runny yolk? Yech....

So you're probably wondering why I suddenly felt the need to share my dislike of all things eggish.

Two days ago, when I was collecting the eggs I found this:

What, not gross enough for you? Here's a close up:

And these things come out of the ass end of one of these:

So think about that when you're eating your breakkie.

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Tickety Boo

My cat Boo has disappeared. He hasn't come home for 48 hours, and while it still seems very unreal to me, I must assume that he is dead, most likely the victim of a coyote. There have been many coyotes around this year, and Boo was forever off in the field across the street hunting for mice. I hope his death was quick and painless. He was one of my Fort Langley kittens (just about the only good thing I took away from that place), and it is hard to look at the other two and not see him curled up with them on the couch. I hope I stop missing him soon.

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