Occasional Notes

Am holding a LotR revival -- everyone's invited!

I'm on to Two Towers (extended edition, of course!). I watched Fellowship last weekend, when Scooter (as the husband shall henceforth be known) was out playing poker.

He refuses to watch the films, being such a great Tolkein fan that he is worried the films will supplant his mental pictures of his favourite books of all time. His one and only tattoo is Tolkein's little symbol thing. He is v. serious about it all.

Although this causes me some distress, I return the favour by adamently refusing to watch his favourite genre -- horror. I have explained that unless he wants to sleep with the lights permanently on and with me having screaming night terrors as a result, he will accept this unfortunate tendency of mine.

Anyway, back the point. Hobbit party 'round mine!

I went into the kitchen this morning to find that one of my fish, Max, had jumped out of the bowl in the night and was tangled, dead, in the wires and tubes behind the bowl. It was horrible. I then left the kitchen and did not go back in, despite the fact that it meant no breakfast or lunch for me. I do not like -- in a phobia kind of way -- dead things.

While I was at work, my mother and father-in-law came over and took my poor little fish's body away and buried it in their garden. I have since found the courage to go back into the kitchen and offer my condolences to the surviving fish, Sam.

Really, not the best ever start to the week.

:(

It's amazing what the fiancé and I can do with a lazy Saturday morning lounging in our pyjamas.

Having yet to get dressed or leave the bed (except to make coffee), we have now booked flights for ourselves and his entire family for the wedding this summer, planned and sent price enquiries to all necessary in-Canada transportation agencies, began correspondence with hotels in Toronto and North Bay to negotiate group rates, began correspondence with local florists to discuss options for and cost of a bridal bouquet and corsage/button-hole arrangements, and wrote the entire wedding ceremony.

I am now sending said ceremony to our officiant for confirmation that it does fulfil the legal requirements for marriage ceremonies in Canada, after which time I may get up, shower, and get dressed.

But I make no promises!

Hi internetz! I have missed you. As such, I used my totally unexpected and COMPLETELY AWESOME snow day off work to poke and prod you until interesting things fell out.

I also did some work boring boring boring and went to the pub for lunch. On a weekday! I also napped. And was very Canadian as I instructed everyone around me on the safest way to walk over ice and compacted snow.

Unfortunately, it looks as though things are clear enough that a second snow day is unlikely. Still, I can hardly complain. That would be greedy.

I LOVE snow days.

In a most interesting turn of events, someone abandoned goldfish on the doorstep to our flat somewhere in the 36ish hours before Thursday evening. The Eff went out the door Thursday morning at about 5am and, in the gloom, thought a balloon had washed up against the wall of the building. I didn't even see it when I left an hour and a half or so later. When we arrived home (coincidentally at the same time) that evening, he said "Oh, that balloon's still there. I'll go get it."

In the again gloomy light of 7pm, he reached for it.

Instead of squishy, squeeky plastic, he got a ting of glass and a dramatic flare of goldfish tale against the side of the bowl.

I admit, I jumped half out of my skin.

After about five minutes of OMG OMG WHAT DO WE DO WHAT DO WE DO???!!!, the Eff said, "But...but...fish! What would we do with them when we go to Canada for weeks next summer to get married? If we take them in, we're responsible for them!"

I said, "Look, there's a science teacher at school who has fish in his classroom. I'm sure he won't mind some more. Or the elderly lady upstairs! Or someone at your school! But I can't bear it if we go out tomorrow morning and they're floating dead!"

So we brought them and the air pump and Tupperware full of food left next to the bowl in, the Eff grumbling all the way about what an insane softy I am.

The bowl was in a disgusting state -- encrusted on mould around the top, water thick with fish poop, rings where the water had been evaporating inch by inch. We tipped the fish into a bucket in the kitchen and I spent an hour scrubbing the bowl in the bathtub. At the end of the hour, I emerged, feeling filthy myself but carrying a beautiful, crystal-clear glass bowl. And the Eff said, "...I think we should name the little one Sam and the big one Max..."

Apparently they'd been bonding while I'd been up to my armpits in nasty fish bowl. So now we have fish!

We went out to the pet shop this morning and dropped a fortune on gravel, a new bowl accessory, a filter, a light, lengths of new tubing, food, a net, and formulas for dechlorination and encouragement of healthy bacterial cultures in the bowl water.

So, I present ( Sam and Max! )

What an unexpected Christmas present! Wassup mah fishes!

Am in the midst of having a music Renaissance. I've been listening to all my old favourites on a rotation -- Headstones, Tragically Hip, Spirited of the West. I've now punched 'Headstones' into last.fm and am getting a galaxy of...Headstones, Tragically Hip, and Spirited of the West! It is AWESOME!

There needs to be more Canadian music gigs in England. They don't know what they're missing over here!!!

*headbangs self across the length of the kitchen and back*

Miss Pillsbury: Rachel, did you just throw up?

Rachel: No.

Miss Pillsbury: You missed the toilet.

Rachel: The girl throwing up before me left that. I tried, but I guess I just don't have a gag reflex.

Miss Pillsbury: When you get older, that will turn out to be a gift.


lazlet, I blame you. I have been mainlining Glee all day.