No More Decorators

Gone Gone Gone

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 23:46:00 +0000

This blog has moved! Want to find out where I'm at?

Drop me a line at butilikedthatblog [at] gmail [dot] com and I'll point you in the right direction.

Thanks for dropping by!

Westfest!

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 22:40:00 +0000

I went to Westfest today to see Jennifer read. It was a brilliant plan, but poorly executed, seeing as how I arrived immediately after her set. I'm sure she was great, but booooo to me being late.

(I blame Morty, by the way, because so many people stopped me to coo over him that it took twenty minutes to walk to the stage instead of three)

Megan, Evey and Jennifer (as well as Leslie, Adam and Michael) got to meet the little porker and cooed plenty over his abundance of rolls and his tummy tattoo. I also ran into Robin who got a few pics of Morty before he fell asleep in my arms. Lucy van Oldenbarneveld freaked over him and said she would consider getting a bulldog in the future, because dang, they are so cute. Score!

But on top of all that... Bringing a puppy to a festival is exhausting. Holy holy. I'm sure I could have easily counted fifty different people stopping us to ask about him. That's cool with me, because I love talking about my dog, but it took so long to get out of there that I nearly collapsed when we reached the car. Hopefully Morty can handle one more day of attention, because he's coming down tomorrow to see my set (12:45! Come say hi! I'm crossing my fingers that people will actually show up to see us earlier folks before the big acts come out in the evening).

Anyways. I was going to tell you about how we're dog sitting a hound for the week and that Morty won't stop humping her, but I'm sure you've heard about about dogs for one post.

So, uh, boobies! There you go. Gotta throw something exciting in there, no?

See y'all tomorrow.

Morty Smorgasborg

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 00:52:00 +0000

Morty: protective of his bone.

Meeting a full-sized bulldog.

Humping said bulldog in the face...

And mounting him from the side.

Making faces.

Sleeping. Must be exhausting, being so cute and all...

His very first bath!

The End. For now.

Save the Flavour

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 11:26:00 +0000

My cousin is getting married this summer. I love my cousin, and I love his soon-to-be wife. They are both musicians, they are both funny, and they are both smart. I am going to drive all the way to Penetanguishene and back in one weekend because I love them that much. The Tang, folks. I'm driving to the Tang for them.

But you know what I don't like? Gift registries. Especially theirs.

Don't get me wrong - the things they've listed are all useful, and the products they chose are probably very tasteful. But these are not things I would EVER buy someone for a wedding. Actually, I would never buy someone these things for any occasion. Ever.

For me, if someone cares enough about marriage to have a nice, meaningful ceremony and to get all their loved ones together to help them celebrate, than I care enough not to get them a salad spinner so they can get their new life started. I mean, really. A fucking towel? A towel to celebrate your love? A wooden spoon? NO.

Should I choose to go with the registry (I suspect I have a higher chance of growing testicles), these are some of my options:

a. Paper towel holder (wall mounted)
b. Large jelly roll pan
c. Pyrex flavour saver
d. Two-tier drying rack
e. Petal colander
f. Black potato peeler
g. Garlic press

In case you didn't notice, there is a FLAVOUR SAVER listed there. Just thought I would point that out. To save the flavour.

Now I have to start thinking of something for them that I actually want to spend my money on. I'm not going to get them something useless, but I'll be damned if I'm going to order a fucking garlic press for my darling cousin. I'd rather get them a big gift certificate to Home Depot so they can keep renovating their home. Not super personal, but a whole lot better than the alternative.

Whew. Okay. I'm done now.

(Should my cousin ever stumble across this posting, I love you to bits, but I would like to have a word with the person who helped you pick this stuff out at the store... Did you notice that you've signed up for a large jelly roll pan?)

Real Bad

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 12:07:00 +0000

I've had a low-level, throbbing headache all day. These headaches are usually caused by food sensitivities, so I was wracking my brain to figure out what I had eaten that was causing the reaction.

Hours later, I realized that my headache wasn't being caused by food... It was being caused by a major lack of sleep. Sticky heat aside, I fell asleep well after midnight last night and got up just before 5:30 am to take the puppy out. Then I couldn't get back to bed. That's not enough rest for me, and I am paying for it now. Fuckity fuck. My poor aching head.

Aside from my lack of sleep, I've been having organizational daydreams lately. Some people daydream about vacations or winning the lottery. I daydream about my impending move and the fun I'll have organizing everything into a coherent system. I don't want to do this at my current house. I want to hide from the mess. The hideous, out-of-control mess. So I guess my organizational spirit is gearing up for the challenge of a new space. Excellent.

It's hard to express how badly I need a nap, but I'll try anyways: I NEED AN EFFING NAP. REAL BAD. SOOO BAD.

By the way, when I'm this tired, I am exempt from having to form complete sentences or using correct grammar.

Youthful Skin (And Some Face Humping)

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 17:56:00 +0000

So although it promised to be all sorts of fun, yesterday actually started off on a super stressful note (although it got progressively better as the day went on). Oh well. Sometimes these things can't be helped. I made it to the spa, and nothing else matters. I could marry the girl who does the facials there. Beside the deliciousness of the facial itself, she made funny little jokes and commented that my skin was in wicked shape.*

I feel lately like my brain is slowly melting and oozing out of my ears as I sleep. By the time I wake up, I'm just a little bit dumber and disorganized than I was the evening before. I hope to remedy this problem before I am all out of brain.

Morty has decided that the garden hose is his new playmate. He treats is like he does visiting dogs. He smells it, bats at it, growls at it, and then goes about dueling with it (even though the hose is OBVIOUSLY not interested in dueling with a fat puppy with a flatulence problem). I usually end up spraying him, which is not as cruel as it sounds considering how fracking hot it is this weekend.

He also met two new dogs in the past few days. One was Jewel, the bichon frise belonging to two of my best friends. They played very well, and considering that Jewel occasionally doesn't get along with other dogs, we were thrilled that they didn't hate each other by the end of the night. Then there was O'Doyle, the English bulldog that I swear has some boxer in him. He's huuuuuuge. He is also way more aggressive and high energy than little Morty was expecting. To introduce himself, Morty humped O'Doyle in the face. It's just his way of saying, "Hi! I'd like to love you up, if that's cool. I realize you're a dude, but I'm fine with that. Now, I'm just gonna put my wang right over here..." However, after getting bowled over and kicked in the head for the millionth time, Morty started chewing on his larger playmate with his brand new teeth. Ow. We split them up to avoid a flattened puppy and a bloody O'Doyle.

We're finally starting to eat properly again. The older Mordichai gets, the more we can do without worrying about him. I made Korean pancakes for breakfast, and my Better Half made watermelon juice with fresh mint. God it was good.

Anyways, I have some pretty great pictures of the face humping, so if I ever get up the energy to find my camera cable, I'll put them up here. Who doesn't want to see my whiney puppy hump a massive bulldog in the face? That's what I thought.

*Speaking of youthful skin, I got carded when I went out for brunch! Carded! It figures that as soon as I blog about how people always think I'm five years older than I am, I start getting carded at family pubs. It was sort of exciting. Sometimes I offer my ID at the LCBO, but they usually just wave it away.

Bulldog Whine

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 17:18:00 +0000

This weekend is full of fun plans, and I can't wait for things to get started already.

Morty will finally get a chance to play with our friends' dogs, including O'Doyle the English bulldog who is coming to visit in HALF AN HOUR. O'Doyle is six months old, and he's a lovely pup. I can't believe that I will have two bulldogs under one roof. Dude. It's going to be adorable chaos.

I'm also going to put to use a spa gift certificate that my Better Half got me for Christmas. Hello, massage and a facial! It's been so long since we last met! I am so excited for the appointment that I could pee on the floor. Oh, wait, that's what Morty does. Once a day. Other than that, he's brilliant.

Here is a video of Morty's classic bulldog whine. This is the sound he makes when he's hungry/annoyed/bored/gassy/tired (so pretty much all the time. especially the gassy bit). I caught a quick second of it a couple days ago, and it still makes me giggle every time.

The Vet

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 11:31:00 +0000

Morty went for his first vet appointment since we brought him home.

He passed with flying colours, although he seemed a little shocked with the whole rectal thermometer thing (can't say I blame him...). We were assured that his insane chewing was entirely a puppy habit, and not a reflection of our training. Whew. He was also given the go-ahead to meet some other doggies!

I'm starting to learn Latin rhythms during my drum lessons. I've become a huge fan of the Mozambique and the Soca. They make me want to dance, which is a bit problematic, seeing as how it's hard to dance when you are sitting down in front of a drum kit. Wooo drums! It will be depressing when I have to return my little rental kit at the end of the month. It still amazes me that I can actually tap out a rhythm. I don't think I ever expected to catch on enough to be coherent.

And folks, Vrtucar kicks ass. Car sharing is a brilliant way to have your cake and eat it too. When I need to run errands, I book a car and zoom around the city. I don't pay for gas or insurance. I get to drive fun cars. And then I get to park it and go home. Can't recommend it enough. It was also nice to hear that I am moving directly beside a lot with two Vrtucars! Holy convenient. No more hitching rides to gigs, either.

My Better Half and I have been wanting to buy a good quality juicer for a while now. We settled on a Green Star twin gear model (we wanted one that could handle leaves and grasses), and it was delivered last week. My BH made kale/ginger/chard juice last night. Surprisingly tasty. I'm looking forward to making beet juice. I think it's pretty cool that our juicer can also make nut butters, baby food and wheatgrass juice. We're feeding the veggie pulp to the pup and he's loving it so far.

I'm starting to work up the motivation to get my ass back to the gym. I've been on a long hiatus, and I can feel my body complaining. I'll try to start next week. New tunes on the MP3 player, new Venus mag, and I'm good to go. Although, as it turns out, I've lost three pounds since getting the puppy. Running around after him has obviously done me some good, and besides which, I don't have time to make big meals anymore. It's been a week of ramen noodles and scrambled eggs.

Morty is getting bigger every day. More pics soon.

Hello, Mr. Reznor

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 20:52:00 +0000

I had a strange dream about Trent Reznor, and now I can't stop thinking about him.

Maybe it's a sign that I should finally learn a cover of Closer. Although, regardless the extent of my potty mouth, I think that would push the indie folk envelope just a touch. Or maybe not. What would you make of a lady with a banjo singing "I want to fuck you like an animal" ? Obviously I wouldn't break that out at the family shows...

Funny, but since we got Mordichai, I have bought more meat in one week than I have ever bought in my life. Right now he's chewing on some beef bone thing, and the smell is making me nauseous. I don't even want to think about what's going to happen when he starts eating those nasty-ass chicken necks. Ugh. Grossness. Luckily my Better Half has been kind enough to prepare the ickier aspects of Morty's diet for me.

There are a lot of movies out right now that I want to see, but I don't know when I'm going to be able to see them. This week is full of rehearsals and vet appointments. Hopefully I can squeeze in a couple hours of movie time somewhere. Is it bad that I'm already all geeked out for the next Harry Potter movie? I don't think it's even out until November.

I was going to post a non-Morty picture, but, uh, I don't have one. Everything I've taken in the past week has a puppy in it. So.... Here's another (slightly fuzzy) puppy picture!

Sharp Little Teeth

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Fri, 30 May 2008 22:50:00 +0000

Okay, I will try not to make this post all about the dog. Just partially about the dog.

Funny things he does:

Bites my toes

Snores (this gets louder every day... I'm scared)

Walks through his poo to get his treats

Has dreams that are so exciting his little paws quiver

I'm starting to look the part of the gal with the new puppy. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror today when I was running errands, and I noticed for the first time that I have puppy scratch marks all over my chest and arms. My shirt is covered in grass stains, my hair is a mess, and my eyes look tired. But OH MY GOD he is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I could just eat him up.

Hmmm.... I'm trying to think if anything else is going on in my life other than trying to get the smell of dog pee off my jeans. I'm rehearsing for Westfest, which is coming up quickly, and I think it will be a great show. Did I mention that Westfest is free and that the lineup kicks ass? How handy is that? Here is the site if you want to come out. I'm playing on Sunday... And Mordichai might even come see my set!

My Better Half and I are proud new members of Vrtucar. We use it for the first time next week. I'll give you my review as soon as I can... But so far I'm really, really impressed. This is probably the only way I could afford to use a car regularly, and fingers crossed that I won't need to hitch rides to my own gigs anymore.

I would write more, but I have a wrinkly little puppy chewing on my pants. Must take action before OUCH. Ooow.

Okay. Teething. Right.

Boy in the Backyard

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Thu, 29 May 2008 02:25:00 +0000

More Mordichai

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Wed, 28 May 2008 11:46:00 +0000

This post, and possibly the next few posts, for a while, will be all about Morty. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Everyone that has come to visit him seems to agree that Morty looks like the offspring of a threesome between a sharpei, a manatee, and a pig. He even makes the piggy squeals when my BH leaves the room. Snort, snort, snort.

He is one fuck of a smart dog. Because we're using reward training, we give him a treat when he does his business in the right place: OUTSIDE. Since he figured that out, instead of taking a poo and a pee when we let him out, he splits up his pees and poos to get more treats. Lately, he goes outside, does a little mini poo, collects his treat, does a mini pee, collects his treat, does another mini poo.... It goes on. Since we clued in, we've only been rewarding his first attempt, so hopefully he'll stop it soon. Entertaining? Oh yes.

He has been very good about accidents in the house (fingers crossed that he is not pooping on the floor as I type).* The only place he consistently has accidents is, well, in my closet. He loves it in there, and if we lose sight of him for one second, will happily crap on my closet floor before trotting through it on his way back to us. My BH and I reek of puppy business... NASTY.

You guys were right; we stuck with the crate training and he's already getting used to it. Each time we put him in the crate, we leave him just a little bit longer than the time before. Those fifteen or twenty minutes of quiet time without having to watch the puppy are amazing. This is when we eat, do laundry, lie down, or remember to shower. Honestly, I think we'll both drop a few pounds this week alone from the running around and the lack of proper food. Our meals used to be so elaborate, and now they consist of cereal or Chinese food delivery. Our dog eats better than we do. I'm hoping that will change as he gets into the routine, because there's only so much delivery I can eat in a week.

Did I mention that he's teething? He is. Very much. He will chew anything... Concrete, wood, metal, flooring, fingers, toes, and recently my boobs. Fucking ouch. One minute we're snuggling, next minute he's decided that my mammaries are the perfect chew toy. We're working to break him of that, obvs. Although, he did bite his brother on the wang... Maybe he just knows where to hit where it hurts.

I've started going back to work while my BH stays home with him. It's hard to be away from the little guy, but I'll have my turn next week.

Yay puppies!!!

*So, right before I was about to post, my BH informed me that he had just peed next to his crate. Booo.

He Has a Sense of Humour Too

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Mon, 26 May 2008 14:44:00 +0000

BH: He is so smart. He peed in the house a couple of times, but he seems to know to take his poos outside.

Me: That is so cool. He is so well behaved. We have the greatest dog.

Morty: (looks at us and craps on the floor)

****************************

Well, I took a cute video for y'all and now my computer is pretending it can't play videos.

Until I figure that one out, here of some pictures of Mordichai! (We picked that name because he seems to like being called "Morty" for short, and because we like the idea of having a super Jewish English bulldog. Go Morty!)

Cheeseballs

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Sun, 25 May 2008 12:51:00 +0000

Shhhhh....

My Better Half and my puppy are both fast asleep on the bed. The cutest part? THEY BOTH SNORE. Occasionally the puppy makes a little whimpering noise. Occasionally my BH will say something incomprehensible. It's lovely.

I can't believe I have a dog. A cute little spud of a dog. He is brilliant, of course, and didn't pee or poo on us during the long ride home yesterday. He just whined every time he needed to go, we would pull over, and voila! Poop! Pee! We must have looked like complete nutters. Every time he would do his business, my BH and I would do a little happy dance at the side of the highway, and praise the puppy in a sing-song voice. "Good boy! You made a poo! A perfect poo! You are perfect, little puppy! Oh look, a pee! We are so proud of you! So proud!"

Holy crap, holy crap. Cheeseballs. But honestly? You try talking like an adult around a baby bulldog. It's hard. Math class hard. (Pick the tough subject of your choice, math whizzes)

We haven't chosen a name. We have some favourites, but we just can't decide yet. He actually seems to respond best to Oliver, which I like a whole lot. Mordichai and Solomon are still in the running. I'll let you know what we end up with, of course. Good luck getting me to talk about anything else.

I'm a little paranoid about his training. He obviously super smart, but we did just pluck him out of his home in the country and bring him to our big old house in the city. He's a little confused. He peed on our floor twice, but always does his dirtier business outside. I'm worried that it will be hard to get him to pee where he needs to, but I've only had him for about 15 hours. I'm sure things will change. I hope so, anyways.

It's also really REALLY hard to crate train a cute puppy, even though I think it's the best choice for teaching this little dude what the rules are. You get them in their crate, they seem happy with their treats and their toys, you leave the room, and BAM. Heartbreaking whining. It's so hard to listen to, but if we go in to stop the whining, he'll learn that making sad noise is the best way to control us. Have any of you ever crate trained a dog? How did you manage? We're sticking to it, but it's torturous, and we don't want him to think the crate is punishment. Advice please.

I'm hoping to take a video of him today, and I'll post it as soon as I can. I've honestly had my hands so full of puppy that I haven't even been able to pick up my camera.

Puppies!!! Yaaaay!!!

Oh, PS, the gig was wicked fun and I didn't make any sexual jokes on stage! Off stage is a different matter, but I'm progressing here people. One step at a time.

Damn Sensitive

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Fri, 23 May 2008 11:16:00 +0000

I should have noticed that I was feeling a little more sensitive than usual, especially after tearing up during a cheesy vitamin commercial last night. That should have warned me. But after waking up this morning and promptly bursting into tears, I think I've cleansed my system of my need to bawl. Sometimes it just needs to happen so I can go back to being me: straight-faced, sarcastic, and occasionally inappropriate. Not prone to random crying fits. Not usually. Unless I'm feeling really damn sensitive.

The show tonight is actually at 8:30; pardon my earlier announcement. The doors open at 7:30 or 8pm though, so feel free to come check out the venue and grab a seat if you're stopping by. I'm mildly concerned that I will blurt out "bulldog" in place of another word, like "heartache" or "sunset." If I sing, "I like to watch the bulldog to keep the bulldog off my mind," please forgive me. It's just that my brain is elsewhere today.

Tomorrow should be interesting. We pick up the puppy in the afternoon, and then make the four hour drive home. The spud will ride shotgun with my BH, and we're going to do our best to make the trip as relaxing as we can for the little guy. Thoughts of puppy pee all over the rental car are creeping into my mind, but we'll just figure it out as we go along. Hopefully no major fines are involved. And hopefully we don't get so attached to the car that we refuse to give it back. I'm looking forward to driving a Yaris all weekend though. Yee haw.

Puppy blogging commences tomorrow! Up, up, and away!

Disjointed Posting 101

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Wed, 21 May 2008 23:32:00 +0000

Getting ready for a new little spud dog is hard work. Did you know that I bought tripe for the first time the other day? A big ol' pack, too. Yuck.

I've also been sleeping in the same bed as a boomerang stuffed toy that will *apparently* be a big hit with the dog because it will smell like me. Rolling over onto a boomerang in the middle of the night can be a bit of a surprise. And that's not code, sickos.

I've been away from the gym for a long time now, and I'm itching to get back into shape. The nice thing about an impending move is that it gives you an excuse to start things off on a fresh slate. Like a muscular, relaxed, organized slate as opposed to a chubby, stressed and chaotic one. We'll see how that goes. I anticipate a slightly asthmatic, perpetually distracted slate, but whatever. I'll take what I can get.

My Better Half is off playing ultimate tonight (HAHAHA, I mean, I support you in your sporty endeavors... kiss kiss) so I'm at home with a bag of organic BBQ chips and a long To Do list. All this makes me want "to do" is take a bath. Maybe if I put it in the list I'll be able to cross it off when I'm done?

I'm playing a gig Friday night at the church where my recording studio is based. There's a big room with beautiful church-y acoustics and man, I am looking forward to it. 7:30 pm at 2 Monk St. in the Glebe, for anyone who wants to stop by. I'll be on first. I think. Come on out!

Speaking of music, this song has taken over my mind.

And that, ladies and gents, is Disjointed Posting 101. Thank you for your time, and drive safe.

A New Spud

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Mon, 19 May 2008 16:38:00 +0000

Something crappy happened a couple of weeks ago. The breeder sold our puppy.

I'm just going to guess that someone offered her more money, as well as agreeing to a breeding contract, and that was enough for her. I was pretty upset, but decided not to go chatting about it until I had a plan.

Luckily for me, the breeder felt awful for selling him. Really awful. She contacted another breeder in the area to get us a dog. The new breeder is a whole lot more on top of things. She has already started training her puppies, spends all day taking care of them, and she had a boy dog for us. I visited him on Saturday. Good lord, he is adorable.

He also has quite a little personality. Within a few minutes of me arriving, he started play-fighting with his brother. His brother kept biting him on the face, so my puppy turned around and bit him on the wang. The wang, people.

He also spent a lot of time nuzzling my boobs, so he's clearly a charmer.

My Better Half and I are picking him up this Saturday. It's so soon! I have to much to prepare before then! I need to locate a baby gate, get a dog crate, get some food and treats, and goodness knows what else. Then I'll probably never leave the house because I'll have a squishy little wang-biting potato to play with.

Five days, y'all! Five days until the potato comes home!

Just for fun, he's a picture of my potato's mama, Sadie.

Brilliant. I love bulldogs.

PS, If anyone has a baby gate they don't use anymore, drop me a line! (Or a medium dog crate, for that matter)

PPS, "Wang" is being picked up as a typo. C'mon Blogger! It's a perfectly valid word!

Time for Cost Cutting

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Fri, 16 May 2008 11:53:00 +0000

Looking over my finances for the next few weeks is giving me a panic attack.

It's not even that things are drastically out of hand, it's just that I'm never 100% on top of my costs anymore. For a financial neat freak like yours truly, that's hard to handle. All the lists in the world won't make up for the fact that I have a lot of things to buy in a short period of time. I also don't get a big enough paycheck to cover it all in one shot. Enter the credit card. That thing is a blessing and a curse. Usually just a curse.

Other than reminding myself that things will ease up soon and that this is just a particularly strenuous month or two, I'm looking at ways to cut costs. There are obvious things like:

Don't buy new clothes for a while
Bring lunch to work
Have a glass of wine in the backyard instead of going out for drinks on a patio
No more buying "stuff" unless it's essential
Be prepared to say no to outings where I know I'll spend money

I'm also thinking about using up what I've got stored in my pantry... And I mean REALLY using it up. I've stocked up on a pretty impressive number of things: fish, tofu, grains, baking stuff, spices, noodles, soy milk, legumes... The list goes on. But I never seem to deplete my collection. Since I get a box of fresh veggies and fruit once a week from Life Organic, I should be able to make do with what I've got instead of always making small grocery trips for the extras. I wonder how long I could do this for? My food wouldn't be super rich or fancy, but it would still be very tasty. I would allow myself to get things like milk, eggs and yogurt if need be, but otherwise? I'm going to see how much cupboard space I can free up.

If you've got a suggestion to help cut costs, please let me know. I'm all ears. I used to be the queen of frugality, and I think I need a refresher.

(Insert Witty Title Here, Because I Can't Think of a Damn Thing)

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Thu, 15 May 2008 11:17:00 +0000

Hoo boy, I'm not being the most consistent blogger these days. My apologies. I've got a platter of Things That Must Be Dealt With Immediately that seem to be attacking my spare time. I'll tell y'all more after this weekend is done with. Hopefully I'll have some pictures to prove it.

The birthday was great. My Better Half made me breakfast, which was a miracle in itself, only because we never seem to wake up at the same time. He's either a few hours earlier than me or a few hours later. It was a pleasant change. Later on, we had dinner at Oz Cafe and I drank one too many fruity martinis. He got me some killer gifts, one of which involved a collection of skeleton keys that have been turned into jewellery. Too cool. I slurred my thanks. It sounded a bit like this: "Thankzzz baaaaybee... I luvs you." I've had a few of you ask what he baked for me... And I'll tell you tonight, because he's at home baking RIGHT NOW. I do believe I heard the word "fondue" escape his lips when he was immersed in recipes.

I was supposed to go to a SOCAN information session last night, but to be honest, the thought of spending my evening in a random hotel room learning about royalties was unappealing (although practical, I know). Instead my BH and I made a big soup and salad, watched crime shows on TV, and hung out with Rach when she dropped by to spread birthday/bulldog cheer.

I think good things are brewing, but they are hiding beneath all this CRAP I have to take care of in the next few weeks. Here's hoping that it all comes together.

Obligatory Birthday Post

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Mon, 12 May 2008 11:15:00 +0000

My weekend away was too short, but as always, an adventure. The weather was excellent, and I think I even got a sunburn on my lips. I was in Toronto with my Better Half and his dad to see a percussion concert at Roy Thompson Hall. Watching Zakir Hussein play the tabla is dizzying, because if you look hard, you can't see his fingers move. And this dude from Uzbekistan blew my mind.

The train ride home was a bit sluggish, but if I were writing this a year ago, I would be telling you about how the trains in India are infested with cockroaches and how the toilets make me gag a little. I'll take a chronically-late train with a functioning toilet this time around. Has it really been a year since I was in India? Holy hell. I may not miss the plumbing, but I still think about the food.

Which reminds me... I usually travel in May, but this year I'm staying put. Mostly because I am broke, but also because I have a few precious weeks of vacation time every year and I want to save them for a rainy (or snowy) day. May is usually a great time to travel, because everything is warming up, and then *cough* I get to miss my *cough* birthday.

Yeah. It's my birthday tomorrow. I usually slyly arrange to be out of town, not because I hate my birthday, but because I don't like people to make a fuss over it. There's also the fact that I am younger than I look and I've learned to dread people's reactions when they find out my age. When I was sixteen, people would ask me if I was married. When I was nineteen, people would ask me if I had any children. When I was doing my undergrad, people would ask me if I was doing my PHD. Maybe it's because I always spent a lot of time in grungy bars, or maybe because my friends are all over the age map... But frankly, I can't figure out why it always stumps people. Anyway. I just heard enough of "You're HOW old? Really?" and decided that traveling is more fun than party hats. (Ironically, if anybody tried guessing my age based on the amount of profanity I use, or on my ability to make anything sound dirty, they would peg me at about 14)

Although I work during the day tomorrow, My BH is taking me out for dinner afterwards and then I have it on good authority (aka my stubborn mind) that we are going to make out. All night. Wicked. And as an early birthday present, apparently I was #1 on an album chart in Windsor! I also got a pretty generous compliment here, so thanks for that, campus radio. You're the greatest.

Impeach That Bush

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Mon, 12 May 2008 02:03:00 +0000

Well my dears, I am back and totally broke. Exhausted, too. My bed is calling me almost as loudly as the bag of toffee chocolate almond crunch I'm trying to ignore.

I leave you with a picture of a sign that pretty much made my weekend. May it help start your week with a smile.

Cupcake Debacle

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Thu, 08 May 2008 11:05:00 +0000

I've said before that my baking skills are not quite up to par with my cooking skills. Now there's proof.

Last night, Rach and I decided to wash down our Ethiopian food and wine with some homemade cupcakes. We called my Better Half for the recipe and got down to business.

Then things started to go wrong.

Please enjoy this photo representation of the rest of our night.

Before the shit hit the fan. See those clean muffin cups? And the lack of flames? So domestic!

Things are starting to go wrong. I am destroying the butter with a potato masher. Rach is smiling at my pain.

We got too excited about the cupcakes and kept opening the oven door. Then we forgot about them for a bit. End result.

Rachel checks her boobs for a missing piece of cupcake.

Moral of the story: Leave the baking to your sexy partner, and stick to making pesto. Also, don't bake while drunk. Also, don't keep opening the oven to look at your pretty cupcakes. Also, purchase dessert ahead of time to avoid crushing disappointment at the end of the night.

I'm going out of town for the weekend... If I don't have the internets where I'm staying, I hope you all have a lovely few days.

Then I Got Messy

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Tue, 06 May 2008 11:45:00 +0000

I spent most of last night trying to get myself organized for the incoming ball of puppy, not to mention the eventual move to a new apartment. I've noticed something in the process.

Something has killed my desire to clean.

When I say "killed," I don't just mean that I'm getting a little lazy. I mean that the thought of organizing or tidying ANYTHING makes me cringe. Me, the girl who used to love labeling and sorting the most mundane things, can't stand the thought of it anymore. I can't figure it out.

Example #1: I have done everything in my power to avoid the stacks of music receipts sitting on my filing cabinet. Do you know how much I love filing receipts? SO MUCH. And yet, I've been avoiding that stack for, oh, six months? What's wrong with me?

Example #2: The beloved "tech box" I use to store all my music cables, tuners, pedals, capos and other miscellany is a disaster. Actually, it's almost empty, because I've been taking things out and never putting them back. I've now started buying a new patch cord every time I play a gig, because I don't know where the other ones have gone. Jesus.

Example #3: My battery charger has been missing for months. Instead of finding it, I just accepted that it was gone and started avoiding the objects in my house that require batteries. (I'm embarrassed that I just typed that out, but I'm not changing it. I've really been doing that.) I used to have a special box for batteries that needed charging, and a box for batteries that were fully charged. I even put helpful little tags on them. You can imagine how often I've been using those. (My Better Half found the charger last night under a pile of old files from work. Ugh.)

Dudes, I don't know what's wrong. This isn't me. Sure, I'm not always the tidiest person, but at least I had a system. Organizing things used to be my idea of a fun night in. Really.

If I had to throw around some guesses as to what is going on, I'd say that I've probably stretched my capability to keep living in a big house full of roommates. Don't get me wrong; I adore the people I'm living with. But when 80% of your living space is beyond your cleaning control, you can get a little bogged down... Not to mention the fact that my house is HUGE and therefore in need of a lot of care. I find that after I've tidied the counters and watered the plants and swept the floor, I don't even want to think about doing the same thing when I drag my ass upstairs. Eventually that snowballs into not wanting to do anything. Ever. Nada.

The benefit of moving into a smaller space is that I will have a little more control over what goes where. If there's a mess, I'll know it's either mine or my BH's. If something needs fixing, I won't have to wonder if somebody else is taking care of it - I can just jump right in. And frankly, being in a smaller space means that if I'm messy, I'll be walking through said mess until I take care of it. No spare bedrooms to hide stuff. No extra floor space.

I think it'll do me a lot of good.

The Brain That Won't Shut Up (and other stories)

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Sat, 03 May 2008 12:53:00 +0000

I woke up this morning at an ungodly hour and could not get back to sleep.

The second I opened my eyes, my brain started singing. SINGING. AT MAXIMUM VOLUME. My first thought was: "Where the hell is that music coming from?" and my second thought was: "Oh, it's my brain." Needless to say, it wouldn't let me go back to bed. (Also, while I was trying to shut my brain up, my Better Half turned over and said sweetly, "Are you all done your reading?" which made no sense but I told him I was and he kept sleeping.) I gave up, came downstairs to make tea, and now I'm sleepy. What the hell.

Anyways. This post needs to fit a lot of things, so I apologize if it's all over the place. Friday was a big day for me. I saw the first individual picture of my bulldog. He has a big ol' head and a wrinkly little body and he's PERFECT. I love him already. The breeder told me his name is Jonah, and although that's a lovely name, it's way too tame for my bulldog. New name to come. Wanna see a picture? Okay.

Aw, aw, awwwww....

Then I went to meet my new landlord, who is a charming man, and I got the lease for my new apartment. You may already know the lovely lady who is living there now, or her lovely neighbour. Needless to say, I am very, very excited. My BH is pretty thrilled too. We're both looking forward to exploring a whole new neighbourhood together.

Then, as you know, I got my hair cut off. That was fun. I actually have an awesome stylist, but since she lives out in the boons I'm not always able to borrow a car to go see her. Instead of waiting around, I decided to steal Megan and Jennifer's stylist for the evening. She did a great job. It's just what I wanted.

You may notice the boxes of crap in the background. We're having a garage sale today, and as such, the house is a disaster.

It was my Bubbi's birthday on Thursday. Can you believe she's 89? What a woman.

When my Better Half and I went to get her a cake, we asked the girl behind the counter to write Happy Birthday Bubbi on one of those wafer things. "Bubbi?" she asked. "Yes, B-U-B-B-I." I said. "B-U-B-B-I," she confirmed. Then she wrote this:

Bitch.

Bubbi didn't seem to mind, and she ate the wafer right up anyway.

Here are some overdue pictures from the sewing workshop:

That's my bag! I made that! Mostly by myself!

The rest of today will be spent getting ready for an afternoon garage sale, and trying not to fall asleep on anyone. I hope y'all have a great weekend.

Go Lethbridge!

noreply@blogger.com (Andrea...) — Fri, 02 May 2008 11:59:00 +0000

I'm on the album charts at CKXU in Lethbridge Alberta!

#21 out of their overall top 30, and #2 on their folk/roots/blues charts!!! I'm right next to my good friends The Gruff, who have a sexy new album out. Sweet!

(Also, I'm getting my hair cut off tonight. Unrelated, but exciting. Pictures to come.)