things i like right now

Georgette Heyer novels

I've been reading her books all summer

Photography blogs

I don't even know these people. (Green Ginger Photography)

I know this person! (Cecilia Flaming Photography)

Culinary Treasures Roasted Garlic and Chili Aioli sauce

this stuff tastes good on EVERYTHING

Cherries

even though they're more work than regular fruits

Rose-coloured tops

RW & Co, but I can only go there when there's a sale

My new amethyst ring from ebay

so lovely

Miss Marple movies

something good to watch when there's nothing on t.v., or even if there is

Being an employee of SD 36

even if it's just as a T.O.C. right now

the shine of which has caught my eye

Perils of a Car With a Decent Sound System:

1. Penchant for tardiness.
Blah blah blah we all hate when a good song comes on as we arrive at our destination. Fact: I have solved this problem. Bypass that driveway and keep on a-goin' until it's over. Additional unnecessary driving may be required if good songs keep coming on. On a really good music day I'll just drive around forever instead of going where I meant to.

2. Siren? What siren?
I have air-conditioning, which is related to this topic in the way that I now can roll up my windows and sing really loudly. I'm not 100% certain that people on the outside of my car can't hear me belting it out on the inside, but oh well. I zoom past them anyhow. You know what's a really good song to sing along to inside of a car? "Vindicated" by Dashboard Confessional. Do you remember that song? It was one on of my old cd's that I found. LOVE SINGING ALONG WITH IT. Anyway. I can't hear the sirens over the sound of my fantastic singing.

3. Suddenly: rudeness.
Sometimes a/c can't compare with the wind blowing through your hair, so sometimes I roll down my windows. My music is still loud at this point, but I don't really sing along because I have SOME modesty. Before this car, when I arrived at a stop light I would turn down my music. You know, because who likes to be stuck next to the jerk with bad taste in music who keeps his/her stereo on maximum volume, forcing those around to listen to the same music? Well, now I'm that jerk. Except I have good taste in music.

don't even get me started

Dear cocoa:

I realize you have many friends, many passionately devoted friends, but I'm going to say this anyway. I HATE YOU. I hate you for several reasons. I'm going to make a list of these reasons.

1. One time I opened a can of you, and thought you looked delicious, like hot chocolate. So I took a spoon and scooped some of you into my mouth. YOU DO NOT TASTE LIKE HOT CHOCOLATE. I'm fairly certain I nearly died from the shock and also from how dry you made my mouth.

2. You keep too many secrets. For example, you are up to your ears in caffeine. ALL THE TIME. But you are full of sneaky caffeine, hidden inside of brownies and cake. You pull the same dirty trick over and over. No more secrets, cocoa! I'm on to you.

Those are actually all the reasons. I thought there were more, but mostly because I am SO ANGRY that you sneakily snuck in to my dessert tonight and the volume of my anger made it seem like a million reasons. Damn and blast, cocoa.

shades of yellow (citrine and/or barfy banana)

Once upon a time, there lived a nice, middle-class family. They had a small home conveniently close to schools and parks. Their street was quiet, and populated by other nice, middle-class families, who gardened in the afternoons and taught their children to ride bikes in the evening. Those who drove through the neighbourhood commented to one another on the peaceful atmosphere that lingered around the houses they passed by. There was nothing unusual about the community, or that one family in particular. All was well.

Or so they thought.

(DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUN.)

Two people - a little girl, and a little boy - knew the secret of the house. They never spoke of it, not even to each other; instead they stood very close together in the living room and silently peered out through the curtains in the unlikely direction of the carport. For you see, housed in that carport was a car. Some sort of old car. Maybe like a Dodge or something, I don't know. Anyway, there were two important details about this car. The first was that it was a sort of brownish-yellow, like if someone barfed up bananas. The second was that it was haunted.

Oh yes, haunted. Not everyone knew it or believed it but these two children swore up and down that there was something devilish about that particular car. It was old, it was ugly, and it just sat there except for at night time when it appeared to the little girl in her nightmares. The only time it ever drove was on an eerie night, when the little girl dreamt she was a mouse and the car had no driver but still it crept closer and closer, first to squish her little mouse body and then to crash into the house and kill all the sleeping occupants.

So the two children kept watch over the evil car, narrowing their eyes at it and curling their lips into as much of a sneer as they would dare in its direction. We're on to you, they telepathically communicated to the car. But as brave as they could be from a safe distance indoors, whenever necessity demanded they walk past the car they held their breath - haunted cars would steal the air from your lungs if you weren't careful.

Then one day, the car vanished. Maybe it was sold, maybe towed away, maybe crushed. Maybe it's haunting another little girl's dreams. I've seen it once or twice, from the corner of my eye; but maybe it was simply my imagination. As an adult, I realize that behind the wheel of nearly every haunted car is some jerk in an upholstery costume.

Like this dirty scumbag.

Nearly every haunted car.

how to not: forty winks

There is a ton of stuff I'm super bad at. Each time I try something for the first time, I go into it wildly optimistic that in this new task lies my heretofore unknown magic awesome talent. Usually I am wrong. (See: bowling, darts, kayaking, scrapbooking, etc etc etc.) However, there is one thing that I am THE WORST AT. If you think you are the worst at this thing, I tell you you are wrong. I am the worst. I have been the worst at this since the day I was born: sleeping.

It takes me a million billion years to fall asleep, I wake up seventeen thousand times during the night, and I'm wide awake ages before my alarm goes off. When I get out of bed my whole body hurts because my muscles are all, "Hey, let's contort into weird positions for hours at a time," and then I'm tired and sore all day. Faulty brain wiring is probably part of the problem, but my own stupidity is at fault for some of it. And because I am a benevolent individual, I am going to use this to help you! You're welcome.

HOW TO NOT: Forty Winks

1. Eat a bunch of food before you go to bed. Preferably chocolate cake. (With real cocoa, mind you. Otherwise why even bother.)

2. Watch television in a reclined position on a soft couch. It won't take long to train your body that this position does not mean it's time to sleep, so don't be discouraged if you still sleep well after the first time or two. Bonus: make sure you're watching really intense murder mysteries and/or creepy scary shows that will haunt you when you turn out the lights.

3. When you're finally in bed, don't close your eyes immediately. Read a book! It has to be a really good one, or it doesn't count. Preferably one that will draw you in, forcing you to continue turning pages long after your brain has given up deciphering the words. If reading's not for you, turn on the good ol' laptop computer. Make sure it's on it's brightest setting. The best websites to look at are ones with lots of images that you scroll through really fast, thus preventing your eyes from powering down. If you want to be a pro, DO BOTH. Read a book and THEN go on the computer! All while in your bed, mind you. That's probably the most important thing to remember.

4. Start sleeping on your back, but after a few minutes or hours change to your stomach. Then switch over to your side, and for a dramatic finish, maneuver so you are HALF on your side, HALF on your stomach. It's the best.

5. Check the clock every few minutes to ensure you know how much sleep time you're wasting. Even better: turn it so the neon numbers are blazing right in your eyeballs.

And that's pretty much all you need to know to be as bad at sleep as me.

which sounds scandalous but is not

Next week I am making a pilgrimage to the book-lover's Mecca: Powell's City of Books in Portland. SO MANY BOOKS. SO EXCITING. My family is going to drop me off and go do other things, and then pick me up with all my new old books. This is what I am going to buy.

Books for Personal Use

- all the Georgette Heyer books that I don't already have

- Indiscretion by Jude Morgan, which sounds scandalous but is not
- Soulless by Gail Carriger

- The Spellman Files by Lisa Lutz

- possibly books by Patricia Wentworth and Ngaio Marsh, which were recommended as good mysteries but are not available from my stupid library

- anything by Edward Gorey, if I can find it

- The Marriage of True Minds by Stephen Evans 

Books to Further My Knowledge

- Substitute Teacher Handbook K-12 - Geoffrey G. Smith, Glenn Latham, Max L. Longhurst, Michelle Ditlevsen

- How to Build a Fire: And Other Handy Things Your Grandfather Knew by Erin Bried

- How to Sew a Button: And Other Nifty Things Your Grandmother Knew also by Erin Bried

- You Are One-Third Daffodil by Tom Nuttall

Books to Bring When Teaching
- The Incredible Book Eating Boy by Olliver Jeffers 

- Strange But True Stories by Janice Greene 

- I’m in Charge of Celebrations by Byrd Baylor 

- S is for Story: A Writer's Alphabet by Esther Hershenhorn
- Pop!: The Invention of Bubble Gum by Meghan McCarthy 

- Nouns and Verbs Have a Field Day by Robin Pulver

Are there any books I should add?

and we were all on it

I'm fairly certain I nearly died earlier this week because I got mad at traffic and decided the rules didn't apply to me anymore. The scene evolved thusly: I was driving home from Harrison Hot Springs. There was absolutely no traffic on my drive there earlier that morning, so I was confident there wouldn't be any on the way home, either. All was well until I got to Abbotsford.

"Why don't I have a listen to the traffic station," I said to myself at that time, turning on the radio. How smart I would feel, discovering if there were any accidents or delays so I could adjust my route accordingly. It turned out that was a smart decision, because lo and behold, there was an accident on the highway I was on, in the direction I was going, several exits ahead of where I was.

"I'll exit early," I said, quite pleased with my intelligence, "and take a different way and miss all the traffic!"

But hey, guess what. Everyone else was also listening to the traffic station, and everyone else decided to exit early, and if you're not taking the highway home from Harrison Hot Springs, there is only one other road you can go on. AND WE WERE ALL ON IT.

There was a point somewhere in Langley when I was stuck behind a Wide Load hay truck or something. It was going so slowly that I'd morphed from Good Driver to Angry Driver with my body positioning. (When Angry Driver is at the wheel, I slouch down and put my left foot on the dash beside my steering wheel, and rest my left arm on my knee. Coincidentally, the same position as Casual Driver.) Then the Wide Load hay truck decided to do the rest of us a service and kind of pull over, but not quite, so it was halfway in the lane and halfway on the shoulder. The two cars ahead of me zoomed past it, and I started speeding up to do the same.

It wasn't until I was ever so slightly over the yellow line that I noticed another truck heading towards me, in the opposite lane. What I should have done then was slow down and stay in my own lane, and wait for the oncoming traffic to cease so I could pass the stupid slow hay truck. But I was TOO MAD. I wanted to go FAST. So I kept going! I veered some more over the center line and it wasn't until the hay truck was immediately to my right and the oncoming truck was immediately to my left that I began to wonder if there was enough room for the three of us.

And there was! But there probably shouldn't have been. Probably I should have died. From now on, I should pay better attention to stuff when I'm mad. Or else I have a Ministry of Magic Car! Now you're all jealous.

will you please start talking

I'm thinking about becoming passionate about something so that I can hold conversations with people! These are some of the possibilities:

- caffeinated beverages
- pros and cons of different types of cheese
- cold-weather sports
- things that buzz
- historical inaccuracies in movies
- homophones
- validity of certain dictionary words
- old railroads
- underappreciated playground structures

I am also open to suggestions.