35x365: 9 older lady in front of me at the maxi

through the ‘8 items or less’ checkout, you quietly slid a six pack of budweiser, two cans of fancy feast, two cans of whiskas. if not to others, you serve as a warning to me.

[i am doing x365]


35x365: 8 lorna

i so worshipped your mom’s tuna sandwiches and accent. your dresser drawers became steps to our pink-lit catwalk. the giggles! first best friend, secrets, mean older brother, spooky basement where we’d pretend to be brave.

[i am doing x365]

farewell, frump

i think i killed a sweater today. it is unlikely that it will be missed. some weeks ago, i had pulled it out from the bottom of one of the last of the unopened boxes. it is shapeless, light blue, and grandma. i recall at the time questioning why i’d even dragged it to another house. it so clearly is from a time in my life when function and oversizedness were seemingly my only criteria in garment shopping. not that that has changed drastically since, but i know my attention has shifted - at least somewhat - away from hideous drapey fatgirl clothes to items that imply outrageous things like shape or style. so anyways, when i descended into the laundry room just now to look for my legwarmers, the big baby blue zip-up sweater was staring at me from a pile. it looked so sad, as though in need of freshening or time travel. so i filled a bucket with warm soapy water and shoved the knit mass in for a soak. then i exhausted myself trying to wring it out. my sore arms managed to drape it soggily across the sink. i suspect it shan’t recover. if it dries at all, it’ll take weeks. and who knows? by then, i may actually have confronted the fact that my days of frump are (should?) be over, goddammit. and if ever i need to dress warmly, perhaps i needn't look like blueberry muffin’s scary cableknit aunt.


35x365: 7 jerry

when you came home that night and claimed to have been mugged near piccadilly circus and that you'd bashed the guy's head with a glass bottle, something in your eyes really spooked me. even now.

[i am doing x365]


35x365: 6 mike

rabid for whatever pencil scratch poetry you were willing to share, reading you proved teenage minds could be genius, and made me want to hold your head in my lap and cry with you forever.

[i am doing x365]


35x365: 5 brendan

you’d have been one of my first gay boyfriends, i think, had our banter transited from office to out. you loved my irreverence, i tickled yours. what part of ‘keep in touch’ didn’t we understand?

[i am doing x365]


35x365: 4 leana

you laughed too loudly for an office. your potty mouth rivaled my own. academic differences be damned, it was all about showing of ropes and i lapped up all you showed like an eager terrier.

[i am doing x365]


35x365: 3 isla

you were one year younger but felt more like a wise old aunt. how you captivated me with long cigarettes, talk of art, alternative education, love unlike mine. sassy secure blonde out of my league.

[i am doing x365]

35x365: 2 dan k

i wasn't too young to get you. the chaos of summer camp could not move us from being still, together. while cabinmates slept, i prayed under the moon that you would be my second kiss.

[i am doing x365]


dumbledore, pride giver

forgive the cliche intro as cheesy as 'i threw up in my mouth a little'...

i literally peed my pants when i saw this, um, article. really.

we all found it mildly amusing - albeit a shamelessly shameless marketing ploy (as if she needs to be more marketed) - last week when
j.k. rowling OUTED the headmaster from hogwarts. much ado has been made about it, but this is the only follow-up i find worthwhile.

lucy van pelt and bob the builder may not surprise you, but how well did you think you knew seinfeld?

excerpted from More Fictional Characters Outed Today [and point at which i actually had to remove my glasses, wipe tears, lean back, and HOWL]:

Popular honey fiend Winnie the Pooh came out, explaining that he was born as a female but transitioned before moving to the Hundred Acre Woods... "Because I'm a bear of very newish Cock, and big city queer scenes Bother me."

full 'story' here.

oh gosh, there are so many characters who i JUST KNOW are gay and thanks to dumbledore, might feel liberated enough to come on out. like buckwheat!


35x365: 1 david

you loved my roommate and seemed fascinated by me. your corny mixed tapes were like our soundtrack. when you asked if you could photograph me nude, jumping, i was rocked at core and secretly titillated.
having seen a couple of bloggers i admire take the plunge, i've decided to join the great x365 blog event (taglined "a year long journey through your life" -- precisely the kind of schmaltz i can't resist). not only is it a curiously satisfying writing exercise, but a total trip. i could not have imagined the challenge of scanning my memory banks in this way - for people, for the kind of imprint they made in my mind, and how time has mucked with it.


things for which i would continue to beat myself up if i didn't think i was so awesome in spite of it all

1. once when he was 11, i left my brother sitting alone in the oldsmobile on a dead cold prairie winter night. so i could duck into someone's basement to make out with a boy. he didn't know how to start the car. i returned to find a bluish boysicle.

2. i can’t change my own car tires.

3. i often assess my fridge and pantry in terms of how long the contents would last before i’d have to leave the house again.

4. i trust disappointment more than i do people.

5. on the rare occasion that i bring nutella into the house, it pretty much goes without saying that it will be consumed (over a couple of sittings) with a spoon by the glow of very late-night television.

6. i never once called my grandparents. now it's too late.

7. i can't ever seem to pay my taxes on time.

8. over the years, i have morphed from a demonstrative sayer of ‘i love you’ to a chickenshit withholder.

9. i have mostly managed to avoid paying for any sort of lip product in my life because i think spending a single cent on such stuff would be stupid. wait, i actually feel smug and self-righteous about this one so never mind.

10. i am a feminist who is wary of women, as they tend to be of me.

11. despite subscribing to all the politics of vegetarianism, i can't give up meat and dairy and likely never will.

12. oh, self-sabotage, how effectively you get between me and the good shit.

inspired by the inspiring schmutzie


cooking for the cure

there are too many political developments to track: harper hanging loose at the national press theatre, clement sticking it to drug 'offenders', dion sweating with strategists, ontario's nose-holding choice, and what high drama on the rock -- will danny williams slaughter or merely maim the other parties in newfoundland/labrador. mildly exciting, maybe, but i feel on the inside about it all the way chantal hebert looks about it: tired, and a bit blasé.

my problem these days is that i have so much work to do and ain't quite doing it (ongoing is the struggle with flex time management, or as i've come to admit, ME management). i know exactly what needs to be done, i know exactly how to do it, i even enjoy doing it. do do do do. ever feel like you're This Close to being on top of your shit, but just can't seem to quite get there? i don't know... between work, domestica, administrivia, and oh yeah, personal stuff (wha?), it's a wonder. being this busy is both a great problem to have for a freelancer, but at the same time, is fairly punitive. i wind up missing stuff in the (seldom visited at the best of times) outside world, my wonky schedules gets wonkier, and i worry lots. what i'm saying is there is PROGRESS to be desperately made in all departments over here. and i suppose it will come. in the meantime - while my sub-conscious grapples with those productivity questions - there is food.

recently here to help eat my leftover lasagna, a friend bent over a plate of the reheated gooey goodness and said, 'WOW! you must really love yourself to cook like this.' wha? i thought... how could this mean i love myself? what it might mean, more accurately, is that i love to cook. so i got to thinking about why i don't do it more often. when i think about how much i enjoy cooking, how relaxing it is for me, restorative even. it really should be a daily thing instead of twice or thrice weekly. and it should be elevated cuisine -- the kind that challenges and inspires me. so i've been upping the kitchen action around here. and it's fucking healthy. because i'm reminded that 'discombobulated' and 'behind' are more bearable shadows when i'm a happy cook.

so there was chirozo risotto tonight, there'll be indian food tomorrow, and on sunday, my offering to the gods of thanksgiving shall be one kick-ass menu, a meal i'd have even prepared for my solo self if i weren't going to be enjoying the company of a good friend or two:

sweet potato chipotle soup
apple fennel salad w/ balsamic vinaigrette
turkey roulade of prosciutto and asparagus
smashed cauliflower with garlic butter and emmental
simply steamed green peas
white chocolate pumpkin mousse tarte
pineapple upside-down cake with vanilla crème
boozey coffee and tea
platter of quebec cheeses