it's a cheeky little chardonnay with no breeding but I think you'll be amused by its presumption

Title from a vaguely remembered New Yorker cartoon.

Tonight we drank an "Australian Shiraz" given to us by the kindly 80 year old matron of what my sister calls the "Pastel Palace" B&B where we have been staying. It's a home-made wine, and like obnoxious assholes, we stuck our noses in our Mason jars, sniffed deeply, and pronounced:

"freezer burn"
"cheap orange popsicle"
"chicken poop"
"transmission fluid on hot asphalt"
"burnt spaghetti sauce"
"overripe bananas"

And to balance all that out, we have the more tender observations:

"smooth tannins"*

and

"smells like a headache"**

A few days in Victoria and we're all drunk on rhododendrons.

--------
* my father said, gently tapping my wrist
** my brother said, who only three days ago, when shopping with me for wine, lifted a bottle and asked mechanically, "will this one make us barf tomorrow?"

oh lord my fam is good

Walking along the beach today, air humid and a bit cool, sun keeping us warm* in t-shirts, sand in sandals, the tide churning about full of seaweed like a thick soup full of vegetables, we were a group of:

- my dad's two sisters and brother
- my dad's brother's daughter
- my brother and two sisters
- my sister's youngest daughter
- my uncles (via my dad's sisters)
- my dad and mom

Somehow we all like each other. Peeling off in slowly shifting groups of twos and threes we walked and talked for a long time.

My beloved** aunt Fig asked, "Why does it take a wedding to get us all together?" Good question.

I better go - dinner is served. Wild sockeye!

------
*ok, I've since heard that not everyone was warm
**she really is

The Moopler, The Poopler

Oh, and here's a fairly recent picture of my Muppet Puppy Atticus, aka Atticoo-coo, Lloyd Doggler, The Moopler, The Poopler:



He's at home but I left him in good hands. (Great hands, even.)

notes from lotusland

Hi folks,

I'm in Victoria BC for my cousin's wedding and the whole family is together. It's great. I'm going to gush for a bit: my west coast family is great, the woman my awesome cousin is marrying is terrific, and the soft ocean air here smells like honeysuckle and apple blossoms. My sister is here from the Yukon and hanging at my brother's place with his awesome partner and their sweet kid has meant that I've been laughing a lot and participating in multiple discussions about poop.

My bro, sis, sis-in-law and I just watched this and I thought I'd share it with my tiny readership in honour of great west coast antics and pastimes that I'm obviously too mature and responsible for now, before heading off to hang with a mob of cousins, aunts and uncles.

summer plans

1. spend a lot of time in a canoe, not like last summer
2. teach dog to comb mommy's hair and sing
3. write a couple of stories about you
4. read a bunch of books
5. sleep out in my tent lots
6. swim every week or so, like a mile or two
7. play the hell out of my banjo, mastering one or two new songs*

---
* Any suggestions? Keep in mind that I only like learning songs in minor keys, the ones about drinking away all the money you borrowed or getting wrongly arrested in a case of mistaken identity so that you miss your wedding day and then your one true love goes and marries your rival instead because she thinks you don't love her no mo', and then everyone dies in a mining disaster/train wreck/murder-suicide.

oh canada

Note received today:

Hey Guys,

If you're planning a trip I'd love to go. I was just trying to plan a cross-america road trip last night. I was going to go cross-canada but when I pulled up the map I noticed that there's like, nothing of interest between quebec and bc.

- CH

Oh, speaking of maps, I know a few people who will love this. Map Tetris!

a dinner I have recently regretted

1/2 cup prunes and a glass of white wine

Why? Why? Why?

I'm not on some stupid diet, I've just been busy. Wrong on every level conceivable, the prune part started out as an innocent snack while I vegged in front of the TV for the first time in months.* (I don't have cable at home and was hanging out at my mom's.) Then I poured myself a glass of wine, which was meant more as a pre-dinner drink, but as I did not end up eating anything else, this magical combination came to constitute my dinner. Two hours later, there was hell to pay.**

This all reminds me of a magazine ad from the 1950's that a friend cut out and made into a birthday card for me a little while ago. "Do you want to feel the bubbling buoyancy of youth?" it cheerfully asked. After extolling the prune's many supposedly primary virtues (high in iron, tasty, healthy source of energy, etc.) it casually and discreetly mentioned that prunes were also good for keeping you regular.

Maybe I went about it all wrong, but that's just not the kind of regular*** I'm interested in.

------
* It's really easy to just eat one prune then another, like popcorn, and somehow ingest half a cup without ever really intending to.

** Payee might be accurately identified as the toilet bowl in the yellow bathroom on the second floor; I am not going to get into describing the hell part. You're welcome.

*** or bubbling

moving in the right direction

Roo: I love how when my dog breathes near my feet it warms up my toes.

Thomas: well, if all the right-wingers are correct, gay marriage will soon lead to you being able to marry your dog.

I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Roo: me too