crankygirl productions

September 9th - Rainy season has begun in earnest

Someone did die.#

Even the lists I make cannot contain the sense that I will not be able to catch up with all the things I have to do, I want to do, I need to do.

September 1st - Gasp

You promised yourself this summer would not slip by, would not evaporate, would not vanish without a trace. This summer would be noted, relished, savoured as if you were ten years old and the days were almost intolerably long.

I am bored.
I am hungry.
I am afraid.
I am curious.
I am happy.
I am lucky.
I am grateful.
I am upset.
I am delirious.
I am pretty.
I am worried.

I am worried.

Yes, that's the best fit.
The above is all in reference to Oblivio's [Michael Barrish] story on August 28th about his correspondence with a girl. I'm not sure if he is serious, when he says his one sentence story of his life is "I am alone". It's quite poignant, but given some of his previous entries, might not be true. Either way, he needs an apartment. If you live in Brooklyn, help him out.

Back to being worried. I inherited this from my aunt. She's dead now. From worry I suspect. I can clearly see her wringing her hands, knitting her brow and releasing little sighs.

August 26th

Went blackberry picking yesterday. Astounded that blackberries grow in the city. Spotted enticing growth while out for Sunday morning jog.

Result of 2 hours picking effort: At least 15 scratches on both calves, some quite long, looking like cat scratches (making me miss my cat - dead these last 4 years) and more scrapes on hands and arms (this despite wearing long sleeves and one glove); ate a few worms accidentally; fingers still stained after two showers; almost 4 kg of berries (over 8lbs); eating of tart blackberry crisp served with whipping cream.

Final analysis: The berries were sweet.


Perhaps someone will type 'blackberries' into google images and retreive this image. It is a collage, only slightly altered (for that 20% copyright rule) of two images found on google using same term. It always amazes me what odd results happen when using this feature.

Tuesday, August 19th, two coffees later

A towel was used to shoo the finch out. Needless to say, it was not I doing the shooing.

finches, not as innocent as they appearThe House Finch is a common visitor to most backyard feeding stations. Their bright red chests and sociable behavior make them a feeder favorite! They gather together at most feeding stations enjoying your food and each others' company.

Identification: Sparrow sized at 5 - 5 3/4", the male has orange-red coloration on the crown, breast and rump with brown streaked flanks. Female has plain, unstriped head and heavy streaking on a light underside.
Range and Habitat: In the West, the House Finch ranges from Southern Canada to Southern Mexico, east to Nebraska.

Monday, August 18th, early evening

[When I was a child my mother told me (amongst other numerous superstitions which have remained lodged in my dna) that a bird in the house meant death in the house]

So, it is with trembling heart that I tell you I'm trapped in my bedroom at the moment, because right now there's a bird in my living room, and I don't know how to get it out.

Naturally I was watching Buffy (videotape of an episode from season 3), and squeezing in a few sit-ups for vanity's sake. Just as I was raising myself off the hard wooden floor (no yoga mat yet), I saw this bird fly in from off the balcony (I simultaneously curse the fact that we have a bird-feeder hanging off said balcony) and flutter around room. I screamed, and ran into the bedroom.

When my adrenaline levels flattened out, I ventured out with a baseball cap on ( I have this thing about my hair) and was quite upset to see it was still there, on the kitchen floor, only steps away from the exit. I thought perhaps it was injured. So I fretted some more, and went back to the bedroom and online to see if "how do i get a bird out of my house" typed into google would produce quality results. Disappointly, only 3 sites show up (when in quotes, otherwise it's an overwhelming 97,500 to sift through).

What all three sites suggested though was to close the curtains or blinds, turn off all the lights, and leave a door or window open for it too fly out through. Done. Retreated to bedroom to phone my cousin and find out if her mom also told her this superstition about death. She said yes, and in fact had only just been talking about it with my other cousin. Maybe it only means bad luck, we hoped.

I let a suitable amount of time pass and ventured back out. The bird was crouched between my two cactus plants. It had moved, therefore it's not totally injured. However, it had moved towards the unopenable part of the balcony doors. Sigh. I gingerly stepped forward and moved the cactus plant, hoping it would get the hint and move only a foot away to the actual exit, but alas, it flew up in the air, more screams from me and a quick retreat to the bedroom. At least I know it's not injured.

So, third times a charm I figure. Again, several minutes have passed, another phone consultation, this time with my step-mother, and I dare to go out again. Now the living room really is getting dark. I look towards the cactus plants. No bird. Scan the kitchen. No bird. Scan the living room. It's perched on my mystery novel, which I was hoping to retrieve at the very least so that I could occupy myself for a few hours. Darn.

So, here I am in my bedroom. Waiting, and hoping that the superstition won't come true.

Sunday, August 18th (horrors)

[I have elaborate tales to tell of my conversion to being a true blue Vancouverite, namely by doing the Grouse Grind et al, but I'm feelin quite lazy lately. Dog days of August and al that jazz.]

So, until I muster the energy to fully convert all the various sundry of this site to xhtml and css postioning vs using tables (which, btw, both Textism and Oblivio, my 2 current favourite sites, have recently done [although I must lay claim to being there first -- well at least having having begun the process of converting this site in early June -- proving that great minds think alike, or as my mother would say, fools seldom differ ...]

...Read this: How Spell-check is destroying English by Andrew Struthers. Amusing, elucidating and slightly sad.

Monday, August 5th

[Long weekend. Quiet]

This is is the forecast for the upcoming week. The high for Wednesday is a paltry 23 degrees. I am not amused.
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