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Monthly Archives: November 2009

i kicked the teleprompter’s ass

Monday, November 30, 2009

I have been silent for the last two weeks. Mostly because I have been drowning in fatigue. And I’ve had other things to do—which is good. Good because having other things to do suggests I have a life. And if you’ve been keeping up with my struggles, you’ll know that having a life that is [...]

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on fearing and loving: another letter

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Dear Elsie, I’m full of fear for you sometimes. Not a great first line is it, Elsie Pelsie? Sorry. Mostly I’m all about looking toward our divine future as mother and daughter. But once in a while (okay a lot), I hear radio programs about abducted children and H1N1 and death by Craisins—all which scare [...]

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elsie’s gorgeous tongue

Monday, November 16, 2009
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the picture of chill

Friday, November 13, 2009

One of my favorite coffee shops in Toronto is Manic. It feels nice inside. Lots of wood. And the beans they ‘pull’ are mostly Intelligentsia, which deals in direct trade. Direct trade pays above the fair trade price and is more respectful of the farmer. Today I had a Mexican coffee with hints of raspberry, [...]

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youtube wants me

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

An update: My youtube video—the one where Simon cuts my bangs—has now had something like 42,000 views. As such it is now considered a ‘popular video.’ Who knew that so many people would want to watch this (including ‘bebobitch’—look for his enlightening comments): Because it is popular (according to youtube), I was contacted about setting [...]

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the fantabulicious never stops

Monday, November 9, 2009

FOR THE WEEK OF November 8-14, 2009 WHAT I’M READING: Possession. Of course. I will always be reading Possession. To the end of the age. Possession. I am also throwing in excerpts from Flannery O’Connor’s letters, A Habit Of Being, as well as reading The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis. My reading cocktail needs a [...]

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cat love

Thursday, November 5, 2009

My cat needs more love. (Don’t we all?) She’s licking herself raw. Declaring psychological trauma. The sly owners observed for 13.5 months before concluding: “The Fat Cat Feels Usurped By The Really Cute Baby With The High Pitched Squeal.” Then they sat around and ate toast. “Where’s Elsie—I mean Frannie?” she wondered. “Good question. Where [...]

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simon’s babies

Tuesday, November 3, 2009
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