Dave Gahan. Oh. My. God.

DAVE GAHAN.

Dave Oh My Fucking God Look At His Hips Gahan.

I thought that Dave fronting Depeche Mode was fantastic. Dave fronting for himself is even better. Unfrickinbelievable. AHHHH ! *Shrieks and has hysterics* He covered his album, which was incredible live, up close, and personal, and several favourite DM songs. Of the Paper Monsters songs, his renditions of "Dirty Sticky Floors", "Black and Blue Again", and "Bottle Living" were on FIRE. "I Need You" was just... beautiful. No other word for it, really. And, among the DM songs performed were: "Walking in my shoes" (of course), "Personal Jesus" (hello, did you see his hips?), and the most incredible accoustic version of "Enjoy the Silence". He and his band performed two encores, the first rocking down the house (nevermind this Mick Jagger bollocks), and the second being accoustic. Amazing and intimate; I've never loved any performance I've seen at the Kool Haus, except this one. It was so intimate and I was probably less than 20 feet from him. Gosh. Even the opening band, Kenna, was terrific. Had I not paid through the nose for a Dave shirt right at the start, I would have bought something cheaper and their CD. They were super and I spoke to their lead singer after the gig and he was charming and so genuinely pleased to be touring with Gahan and even more pleased that we all really liked his band. It was sweet.

So, my verdict? This was the best concert, barring DM performances and possibly one truly excellent They Might Be Giants show I saw several years ago, I've ever seen. Better than Metallica in '94, and that was a goooood concert, and better than the second time I saw TMBG. Hm. Maybe it ties with the original TMBG show for awesomeness. I think it might come down to the intimacy of both shows, considering both were filled with fan-band interaction. Also, apparently, there is an official name for the cult of Depeche Mode worshippers: The Devoted. We were chatting with each other on the streetcar and subway. AND, I'm glad I brought my fancy new business cards because Tracy (God, she's great) and I made new friends who are going to exchange photographs of the show with us. Yay !!!

Wow.

Did I already mention Dave's amazing hip-swinging moves? NUH.

I'm going to be so sore tomorrow. Goodnight.

"Can't get no satisfaction?" asked a glowing sign outside the Dovercourt Baptist Church. "Let Jesus be your rock." Yep, the Rolling Stones must be in town. Them and a significant number of other international music stars of varying degrees of talent. I will not be joining the near half-million screaming, sweating, sun-stroking fans for the SARS relief concert. No, I (and the most Intrepid Tracy) will be heading in the opposite direction to the Kool Haus for Dave "Delicious Hips" Gahan. Oh baby, oh baby ! I can hardly wait and I'm already working out what clothing I should wear. I'm thinking my vinyl a-line mini, knee-length argyle socks and my beloved Exciter teeshirt from the last DM show.

I have to do a major room clean tomorrow. People are coming to see the place, did I mention it's for sale? Anyway, it's for sale and people are coming to see the place sometime between 11 and noon tomorrow (and also tomorrow evening). I've got shite all over the place from various packing and unpacking adventures, plus Ben is coming to stay this weekend for the Reunion. Anyway, it's not dirty, just messy. I'll put some stuff away, like my clothing, tonight, before I get to bed, and then I'll sweep or vaccuum in the morning. Having a litter pan in my bedroom is kind of gross and Willi is such a digger that it gets everywhere in no time.

Quiz
created by Polly Snodgrass.

WATER OF FIRE. You are energetic and dramatic. You don't hesitate to take the initiative and aren't normally comfortable being cooped up in the house. You need to be involved in some kind of cause or activity. Your charismatic personality gets you plenty of attention. You'd make a good artist and are very creative. You have a strong will; beware of jealousy or instability. You fiery wench you.

Well, I guess it suits me, fiery wench that I am. :)


And now, just for the fun of it, I decided to take the one for boys and the results are equally... well, equal, really. They make a fascinating duality study, and pretty accurate. Wacky.

Quiz
created by Polly Snodgrass.

FIRE OF WATER. You are tolerant toward others and are good at easing tension. You make others feel calm and understood. You are patient in even difficult situations or with difficult people. You would make a good therapist or healer. Because of your accepting nature, you are able to have friends from all walks of life. People seek you out for advice because you always know what to do/say for the betterment of everyone involved.

Okay. I've been asked to stop writing about the c a m p a i g n. So. Unless I -really- need to vent or figure out some fancy bit of code, that's it. Any mention of people involved will likely be on the non-political side of things, as friends, foes, whatjamacallits, etc. I'm in trouble for having dashed off to my cottage and I'm in trouble for keeping a weblog. I guess I'm more trouble than I'm worth.

By the way, A&C, thanks for feeding me and enjoy those berries !

Well, hello. I'm back. Did you miss me? You don't actually have to answer. I had a really wonderful time at my cottage, again, and it reminds me that I am, despite financial and employment-related appearances, a very lucky woman. Everyone should have that special place where they can feel utterly at home, real, at peace, whatever. I have that in my cottage. I an hour or so before bed, one night, writing down the things that affected me, and now I will retype them here, with little editing. Bear in mind that these musings were written in scratchy hand in the hour of witches in the middle of the forest, by a small lake, in western Quebec.

I had a classic "cottage" night, tonight. A series of small, but poignant events that bear repeating. After a day of rain, constant and soaking, the sky cleared at sunset, as it so often does, and remains clear to this late hour, despite radio proclamations to the contrary: "Thunderstorms, possibly heavy at times." Shortly after the sun had gone down, I turned off the radio to read while enjoying the dusk noises and other audible treats. My soundtrack was the awesome amphibious chorus with the other chairs of the orchestra filled by whip-poor-wills, eerie night birds, moths bouncing off the window screens, all to a faint backdrop of far-away traffic and the occasional barking of dogs in the distance. How many miles distant, I cannot know.

Several chapters later, the whip-poor-wills had gone silent (though some nights they call until dawn) and I found that it was about time for that last stroll up the hill (code for 'outhouse') to attend to the demands of the body. Stepping outside, flashlight in hand, I checked the sky and was very pleased to see Arcturus, my favourite star in the heavens. It was the first star I ever identified, other than Polaris (the easy one). When I finished up the hill, I wandered onto the deck and watched the sky. The deck, suffering from the camp's lights, is really not the best place to star-gaze. The Big Rock, overlooking the lake, is the best place, but not up for the forest path at midnight, the next best place and perennial favourite is the bridge. Perhaps I should write it as, The Bridge, as it's really spoken with an uppercase.

Not that long ago, I was afraid to stand on The Bridge in the middle of the night without my mother by my side. With the onset of certain maturity, however; that strange fear has gone, sadly along with some of the better joys of childhood, too, it seems. Out on The Bridge, through the opening in the forest canopy and above the lake, a substantial portion of the sky is visible. The stars were shining brightly in their multitude, second only to the brightness of those brutally cold nights we can have up there.

All of a sudden, I was awash in memories of the sort that you welcome when they visit, but they don't visit all that often. The first were of two cats I grew up with. Bold, graceful Misha, passing our ankles with a rub and his long tail in the air heading down the planks, out into the dark forest to hunt. Then, fat and happy Placi trotting down the path onto The Bridge, tail quivering with excitement as Mom and I greet his arrival. I found myself, at this point, looking up onto the path to see if he was there. I wasn't looking for Willi though she is prone to follow me, no, I was looking specifically for a cat that for something like fourteen out of seventeen years came down that very path every night we went star-gazing.

At this point, I turned back to the stars that have always filled me with wonder, moreso up there than anywhere else. The Milky Way was laid out across the sky above and behind me like sparkling dust. I reoriented my view to look out above the water and not even a full five seconds later, a beautiful shooting star passed right through the Big Dipper. Sometimes it's nicer to think of them as shooting stars rather than meteors. I smiled, recalling those days of perfection in my earliest childhood when I would be standing in that very spot and never see the shooting stars. "Oh, there ! Did you see that one?!" I would mumble an answer, mostly 'no' but sometimes 'yes' just to bolster myself in a moment that reall was meant for my parents. They would stand there together, gloriously together, arms wrapped around each other, peering up into the heavens, my pop explaining the constelations to my mother. How a born-and-bred Brooklyn Jew new about skies invisible in New York, I will never know. I would be there at their hip, looking up at the sky and also at them, my parents, so much bigger than me, and, for that moment brief as it might be, perfectly in love with each other. To a four-year-old Maya, the world in those moments was as it should be.

A satelite zigged across the sky and that moment recalled was gone. There are nights, special, magical nights when sound is carried on the wind and things can be heard that, like the distant barking of dogs, normally would not reach us in our camp. Some years it has been loons calling from larger lakes higher up, sometimes the howls of wolves. On these nights other sounds ring much fuller and echo across the water, distorting any sense of direction. First it was far away, a whisper barely audible over the croaking of the frogs: a train. The train !! My excitement over trains, and especially the ones that run below the mountain at my cottage, will never die so long as their whistles and rumbles can still be heard. For a number of years, the trains didn't run on the Quebec side of the river anymore and when we heard them they were only shadow-trains, much further away across the wide waters of the Ottawa in Ontario. Only a few years ago did they begin to run again and I confirmed that they do still, at least twice a day.

Walking back from The Bridge to my cottage, the train's whistle began to intensify: Long, long, short. Pause. Now louder: Long, loooooong... I have a friend who's father is a great train enthusiast and by osmosis, she's learned the meanings of the various whistle patterns. I must ask her about these. I've heard them nearly all my life. Probably, they mean something like, "crossing" and "bridge" or something mundane like that. Sort of like yodelling the price of sheep over the mountains. Standing now on the deck once more, the train sounds like it is going to rush out of the forest and blast straight through me. The echo reverberates and I swear I can feel the track rumbling beneath my feet. What an intense rush of feeling.

What a truly wonderful night.

Wow, I hadn't meant to publish that tiny bit of text. I got distracted at the ROM and pressed the wrong button. Anyway, I have a lot more to say, now, than I was going to say initially. For instance, at the ROM, yesterday, we launched our second scavenger hunt. The first one, about Egypt, was done by both myself and Joane, but yesterday's was written entirely by me. It was the dinosaur quest. I was a little worried that people wouldn't like it - I know people had a tricky time with the Egyptian one. As it turned out, I needent have worried. People loved the scavenger hunt ! Children and parents came to the desk with their completed questions and went on at length about how much they'd enjoyed it and how fun it was going through the galleries like that. I was so pleased ! Further evidence that I'd make a good teacher? Probably.

Rick came to the museum when I was finished work and from there we went up to A&C's to pick up my sunglasses. I think Rick was disappointed that we didn't quite end up doing anything like what we'd planned to do which included patio sitting and sipping beer. We ended up staying at A&C's for dinner and watching the very silly, Temple of Doom. I don't think I've ever seen it in its entirety. It was fun. It was when we were on our way to go have an evening drink at The Abbey that the day turned decidedly sad.

We were heading along Harbord, almost at Ossington, when the car in front of me ran over a cat. I saw it clearly, too clearly, really, and I was stunned that the driver didn't stop. He'd been going slow enough to stop for the cat, but when he rolled over it and kept going, I freaked. I pulled to a stop, screaming at the car, and ran out to check on the animal. It was in spasms and was trying to get up, but when I got to it the spasms had stopped. I knew the cat was going to die. People ran out into the street, a couple of them coming to make sure the animal wasn't theirs, as I petted the animal. For a moment, it purred in my hands, then it died. I've never had anything die in my hands before. It was so alien. First there was a cat, and then there was nothing. I wept, and wept.

In the meantime, Rick and this lovely Asian man on a bicycle worked the phones trying to get in touch with the SPCA or emergency animal services while more people came to see if they could help. I lifted the cat out of the street. Sadly, she - I think it was a she - was wearing a collar, but the name tag had fallen out of the rubber back. I checked the street in the hope that it was there, but there was nothing. This lovely tabby, well fed and clean, belonged to someone and we couldn't even call them to tell them what happened. There was a wonderful woman who pulled up in a green Volvo (I like Volvo drivers, I've only had good experiences with them) who was very helpful. It was her and the man on the bicycle that were the most help. Eventually, I found some plastic in my car - the woman had offered a blanket that I had refused - and folded it up. I laid the cat on it in a visual place in case either Animal Services or its owners came looking. Hopefully, the animal is microchipped and its owners won't be left wondering what happened to their kitty. Maybe the word will spread and they'll learn that their cat died in someone's arms and that people tried to help.

When I got home, all thoughts of going to The Abbey gone from my mind, the first thing I did was pick of Willi and hug her hard and kiss her. When I set her down, I did the same with Tobe, then I poured myself a stiff drink. This was the second time I'd seen a cat killed on the street. Images of the event went through my head in the shower and in bed and for the first time in years, I cried myself to sleep.

Today, I'm going to Mount Sinai Hospital to visit Julie, because yesterday she fell down and they think she broke her leg. The leg affected by the stroke. Unfair. She was doing so well with her walking, too. God willing, Julie will recover quickly. Tomorrow, I'm going to my cottage; fuck work. I'm only going for about five days this time, but I know I'll be back there in August. I've promised to bring back blueberries if there are lots.

Okay, I'm still bouncing around from Pirates of the Caribbean, or as Nick and I have taken to calling it, "Pirate Movie". My gosh, good fun ! Possibly only one complaint and that is that Johnny Depp is not gay enough and doesn't do enough prancing. But he does some. I got a wonderful email from my Mom, too, saying that she'd gone to see Terminator 3 and enjoyed it a lot. I love my mom, she rocks.

Also, more good news, our friend who's in hospital in New York is responding to the new treatment he's been put on !

I'm at Nick's house right now. He is currently making his awesome carbonara that is full of greasy, delicious BACON. Nummy. "Mmman, bacon makes my hands all fatty," says Nick.

We saw Pirates of the Caribbean today at my almost favourite theatre, the Uptown, which, I suppose when it was built, it was still a lot more uptown than it is now - Anyway. We went for a matinee and that meant it was pretty unfull so we got to sit in the seats with the rail in front, which is good for resting feet. I am distracted, because this is what Nick does to me, but I'm trying to say that the movie was KICK ASS FUN ! Okay, Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, swords, fancy costumes, and a great leading lady equals a lot of fun ! Oh, and dead pirates, too. And there's a monkey. And effects that didn't make me cringe. And you know? I expected it to be mindless entertainment and it did not disappoint. It was mindless, yes, but utterly entertaining and it held me enthrall for its duration. Not once did I even think to check my watch. I smiled almost all the way through it, too. It was great ! Go see it !

Whoa - Eric B. of TTrek mention just sent me the keenest link ! Do you want to view the International Space Station? Go here !! Thanks, Eric ! You know, of the multitude of highschool friends that I thought I'd stay in touch with, I've kept up with almost none of them, or had fallings out with. Eric, and a scant few others, pops into my life every few months to a year or so and I think I've decided to stay in touch this time. Mostly, the few I've managed to hold onto are scattered to the four winds, so it's a bit tricky, but sometimes it's worth it. Thanks for having patience, Briggs, sometimes it takes me a little while to realise the good eggs in a basket of bad.

Also, he has quickly figured out that I have an ego. Do you want to check me out? Hell yes, you do ! Hey, I said YES YOU DO ! Get back here. Eric checked the TTrek website and discovered that photos have been posted. You should go see them. The costumes were pretty varied and keen this year. Also, here are three pictures of yours truly. One: at the dance. Two: still dancing - and look, Nicole's taken her top off !. Three: See? Sexy school marm Potter-esque chic.

Okay, I have to let Tobe out of Stew's room. Almost as soon as I'd typed the last cat update, all hell did break loose.

SQUEE ! Rick bought me Paper Monsters, Dave Gahan's album and it came with a dvd, too, full of video goodness ! SQUEE-HEE-HEE !!! Thank you, Rick !!!! The album's pretty good, too. It's a little bluesy, a little rocky, but definitely not Depeche Mode. Anyway, I like it.

Currently, Willi is walking around yelling at me. Over by the screen door: MEOW. Behind me, on my shelf: Meow? On my lap: Meow. Across the room: MEOW !!! Holy goodness. You would think she's in desperate pain, but, she's not. She's just being her usual self. There's been a lot more usual self rather than neurotic self in the last while. Hooray. Of course, now all hell will break loose, you watch. Anyway, I woke up this morning to find her curled around my head on my pillow. No wonder I was warm ! She was like a vibrating, fur hat.

I've got a page devoted to Prints and Commissions on my portfolio site. Check it out.

So, I didn't see Mars. It seems my viewing from the house was utterly thwarted by the direction in which I was meant to look and since I was groggy, I just couldn't make the extra effort to go out into the street or yard. I know, I suck. Anyway, I don't feel too bad as I've managed to get out and see most nifty celestial events over the last eight years... eclipses, conjunctions, meteors, comets, I think I saw the space station doing its thing, once, but I don't know for sure. I wish my telescope hadn't been sucky. Oh well, one day, when I have the money, I'll get a decent one. I still feel bad about it, but, it is a lesson in doing product research before making purchases, I guess.

I'm still waiting on various things to come together for all this work I'm supposed to be doing. Okay, to be fair, I am doing some procrastinating, but what can you do? This is who I am, and I want to know exactly what I'm supposed to be doing and, at the moment, I'm confused...

(20 minutes later)

...Okay, I just got off the phone with Booboo and I'm still confused, but at least we're all confused together. Sheesh. Like that's consolation.

Today, I went over to Derek's house and played my first game of Hackmaster. It's based on the AD&D system of roleplay, so I had to return to the old THAC0 system and after about twenty minutes of actual gaming, it all came back. I never thought it would, but it did, along with all the very confusing math. I'm taking an even bigger departure from my normal characters than Mumbee is. I'm playing a female dwarven battlemage who is so ugly that people go out of their way to avoid her. God, she's hideous. I drew her tonight, on my character sheet and ... *shudders* She has a goatee and mutton chops, wears a beret, a toga with ill-fitting embroidered robes over that, and a vest that she can't quite close. She goes barefoot, her clothes are filthy and she does not bathe. She is VILE. There is an additional statistic in Hackmaster, Comliness (physical beauty, whereas charisma is personality based). Her COM stat, when all modifiers are applied, is ONE. Yes, 1. Her charisma is only slightly better at 5 when all modifiers are applied. All fear me, Glumbel, the hideous dwarven mage !

Feel like killing a little time? I definitely recommend this link passed on by my gal, MegsInPhilly. If you feel like reading something disgusting, or are interested in how much food is in processed foods, try this one about Swanson's Hungry Man breakfast. But, you are warned that it is gross and uses photographic evidence.

Alright, clearly I'm in the wrong field of work. Carrie, the mother of Stew's goddaughter, is a trained shiatsu massage therapist. She's been job searching for not very long and today she was offered three, count them, THREE different jobs. She's going to one other interview this evening, but she's already been hired on with the Marriott Hotels. Dang. On the other hand, I'm going to design her business cards and I'm being paid in a one-hour session. Dang !

Mars is up these days, looking pretty fantastic and being closer than it has been in 60,000 years, or somesuch. It's visible in the west before dawn, so the plan is to stay up tonight (rather than get up really early) and then go look either out the window (which might suck) or hop into Scarlette and drive north for about half an hour to see it in darker skies. Rick will be over tonight, but since I've got work to do, I probably can't go to bed early anyway. If we decide for the second option, maybe he'll want to come along for the ride, despite the early start to his day, I don't know, but I'll ask him tonight. I wish I had not left my binoculars at the cottage. If I had a tripod, I could take a photo, maybe, but I don't.

This also reminds me that it is coming up on the summer meteor season. From about July 22nd to near the end of August there will be lots of fun meteor activity in the sky. Of course, the big show is the Perseids which peaks around August 12. Hopefully, I will be at my cottage where there will be very little light interference from urban centres. Hooray for cottages in the Laurentiens ! Anyway, I just spent the last forty minutes or so teaching Sierra (the goddaughter) about meteors and then meteorites, showing her classic car-crushing photos, and then about the craters on the moon. All this was put down on paper by me (showing Sierra what makes a meteor shower happen) and then her drawing renditions of pictures we found on the internet. At one point she said, "Wow, Maya, you know a lot," and that made me smile.

I could make school fun, except I wouldn't want to stick with the curriculum, but I bet that if I were a teacher, kids would like me. From the crater pictures we moved into some geography because I was explaining about how the dinosaurs became extinct. I asked her if she knew how and she said, "Um, volcanoes?" and I said, "Well, that was part of it, you're right. But what were we just talking about?" She said, "Meteors?" And so I said, "Yup. One really big one hit Earth and threw a lot of dust into the air and scientists think they found it in Mexico." Sierra got excited, "Where is Mexico? We have a friend there !" So, I pulled out my atlas and showed her where we are and where Mexico is. Then we went and husked some corn.

It's been a nice day.

Did I mention that I updated my Elfwood galleries? Well, I did. Check out my fantasy gallery and my sci-fi gallery to see the new stuff. Go, see it ! Leave comments !

I was watching National Geographic on TVO tonight and it was about the reintroduced wolves in Yellow Stone. Willi reacted when the wolves were howling, sitting bolt upright and looking for them. I had to change the channel, though, because I just couldn't deal with the amount of killing that was being shown in the documentary. Yes, alright, wolves are specialised hunters and it's a harsh world they live in, but seriously, with a death every five minutes, or so, I'd probably seen five or six in half an hour and that was enough. Before that, I watched the end of a British costume drama that I almost immediately identified as Tess of the D'ubervilles. I read it about four years ago and rather enjoyed it, but the televised version really played up the ridiculous late romantic melodrama to the point where it was almost painful.

I have managed not to get much of the work I needed to do done. Bad me, no biscuit.

However, I discovered that at the Musuem of Civilisation in Hull, pardon me - Gatineau, is showing, and has been since December, a traveling exhibition about the bog people ! You know, those people who were sacrificed (or, if you prefer, died by human hand, on purpose for a cause) and then ceremonially drowned in the peat bogs of Northern Europe and the UK. I think I'm going to try to get there either next week, if I make to the cottage, or in August. It's apparently caused some controversy because people felt that the corpses among the artifacts were disrespectful to the dead and sensational. People need to get a life and protest things that matter. And didn't they know? Controversy only creates more interest in such exhibits. Dorks.

Anyway, I have a union meeting tomorrow at lunchtime so I should think about going to bed. Stew's wonderful goddaughter is coming over tomorrow, plus Stew's sister, ex-Tobe owner, Lucy. Maybe the goddaughter's mother, and Rick will be coming over too. Big barbeque fun for all ! Now's the time to visit since there's no one living downstairs anymore. :)

Finally, click this.

I've got a headache, again, for a change. I've had a headache for the last five out of seven days. Maybe I'm not drinking enough water - dehydration does cause headaches, afterall, and it could explain my lingering lethargy. I've got this work to do for Booboo, but so far, I'm having a lot of trouble actually getting down and doing it. It's not particularly difficult, but it is bothersome. It requires moderate effort and I just can't bring myself to Get It Done. Also, it's pretty muggy today. It's not actually that hot, but the humidity is vile. The forecasters are predicting thunderstorms for later today, which explains everything. Come on, thunder !

My cat is hiding. I can't find her anywhere so I suspect she's in Stew's closet, or something. I'd hoped she was in her kitty condo, but she avoids it completely. Maybe I'll move it into my room. I had to put a litter box in my room, something I really hadn't wanted to do, but I am sick and tired of having to clean up my chair. The box is beneath it and she is using it. Yesterday, Tobe came into my room, got into the litter and ... lay down. Hello? Litter boxes are for pooping, not for sleeping. Cats = weird.

On a sad note, a family friend is dying. I don't think I've written about this yet, because I don't really like to think about it, and because for a while it looked like things were getting better. My mother's very good friend, in New York, has a son who is about ten years older than me. My mother was instrumental in the raising of this boy. Now, he is in hospital, very sick with AIDS. On Sunday night, Mom talked to me about it and I could hear the sorrow in her voice. My mother wants very badly to go to New York to act as support for her friend and to see his son before it is too late. It is a great injustice that someone so bright, kind and so vital is being stolen by this god-awful disease, when others live for years and years without HIV ever becoming active. I will, of course, go with her to New York, when she figures out how to orchestrate it. It is a trip I cannot look forward to, whenever it occurs, and I wish it were for happier reasons.

In the mean time, I am going on as usual and planning to head up to my cottage again next week for five or six days. I look forward to it and the blueberries that I know are ripening on the bushes. Of course, all plans are subject to change.

I have a wish list. It's simple really, but it's time to put it out in writing. I have this sudden desire as I arrived home tonight to discover one of my favourite (second fav, to be exact) mugs shattered on my bedroom floor. Thank you, Willi, you Mother of all Destruction, you.

01. New drinking glasses. Between boys and visiting godchild, my number has been somewhat depleted.
02. A new mug that can be my second favourite.
03. New, eight inch, double size futon for my couch.
04. Enough money to finally get all my film developed.
05. Air-conditioning in Scarlette that works.
06. A massive reduction, on the level of the heinous 27% increase, to my auto insurance.
07. More freelance contracts - yes, I know, what I really mean is for some of my networking to pay off...
08. A haircut.
09. Dave Gahan's new album, preferably before I actually see him in concert.
10. People to buy stuff from my store before Cafeshops absorbs what meagre profit I've made.
11. New stockings.
12. A Swiffer Wetjet. Oh baby, I hate mopping this floor.

That's what I can think of off the top of my head. Some of it is so tiny you might wonder why I have to put it on my wish list. Well, until I am more financially stable, I can't afford to replace things that I can still get some use out of, even though they're fraying around the corners, so to speak. How do poor people do it?

Toronto Trek ! (I've been having publishing problems, so this was actually written quite a bit earlier in the day than when it appears.)

Wow, what a weekend. It blew past in a whirlwind that I still haven't recovered from, despite nearly twelve hours of sleep. Yee, there's so much to say - so much went on... I don't really know where to start or what to include or what. Phew. Okay, let me take a moment to think about it...

...

Okay. Let me start with the artshow. First of all, the woman who paints dragons on feathers was not there, which pleases me greatly, but the woman who puts wings on kitties and kitties in teacups -was- there. I was surprised that there was no real professional artist represented, at least not one who you might have heard of. I feel that any convention that does not bring in a decent professional artist does its own artshow and auction a great disservice. First of all, it attracts many more people, and it adds a bit of class to any show. It raises the bar and gives the other participants a chance to meet someone who's really made it in the artworld. Anyway, on the other hand, one of my favourite Elfwood artists, Maery Morrison, was there and that was great. After trying to find her booth, finally another artist said he'd send her to the Vendors' Room to find me. She arrived and she... ROCKED. We hung out a bit, I met a couple of her friends that came with her to the convention from Montreal, and we hung out on and off through out the convention. She was very displeased with how the artshow was run and was irritated by the number of bullshit artists that were selling their work while we struggled. Also, for the first time ever, I was served with about three very backhanded compliments concerning my art. At one point, I was lumped in with all the other fan artists, which I am NOT, and at another time I was told, after a friend was praising the excellent work of one participating artist, "No offence Maya, your stuff is nice, but... you know what I mean?" As if I can't handle someone praising the work of another artist, I'm a big girl, but qualifying their comment with that statement really put my back up. And now for the answer to the pressing question: Did you sell anything? I sold a print. One. It paid for the print I bought of Maery's Drow Priestess picture.

I had a great time helping Nicole with her booth, and I worked my ass off for her. I held the fort all of Friday night so that she could attend a full moon ritual, and where ever I went, I pitched her stuff. (I also pitched my stuff - I think I'm getting a handle on this self-promotion/networking thing.) I made some key sales for her, too. Of course, I drove her and all her stuff to and from the convention, lugged it around, and all that stuff. I really enjoy working shows with Nicole as she's such a wonderful and interesting woman. When it's the two of us, everything runs pretty smoothly and we just don't get stressed out. She knows I'm reliable and I know she'll let me run off and play every so often. She made out very well this weekend and I guess I did, too. She doesn't pay me to work these events with her, I do it for free attendence at the conventions, but this time, she gave me a marvelous gown that fit me like it was made for me. Thank you so much, Nicole, you are wonderful !

Okay, now let me talk about the guests. Anthony Stewart Head (Giles on Buffy) was one of the guests of honour and he was great. He braved the thronging crowd and entered the Dealers' Room where I was lucky enough to meet him. He was witty and charming, and a LOT of fun. When I said that I was taking the opportunity to harrass him now because I might not have the chance again, he replied, "Mmmm, I -love- harrassment," and sidled up to me, grinning. If you thought he was attractive on television, he is even moreso in person. He exudes charisma and he twinkles with mischief. I chatted with him for about five minutes telling him that he was very courageous to brave the crowd this way and he answered that it was precisely us (the crowd, the fans, etc.) that kept him employed and he enjoyed meeting us this way. Very smooth, Anthony. His talk was great, too, the entire hour filled with questions from the audience. Garret Wang (pronounced Wong) was another interesting guest who was pretty keen. You would know him as Harry Kim from Voyager. He left the stage during his talk and just walked out into the audience to meet people and shake their hands and pose for photographs. He has long hair now, which is just weird. He was very funny, I must say, especially when he told the story of how his traditional Chinese parents reacted when he dropped out of pre-med for acting.

An interesting thing that I attended was the Pagan ritual and panel discussion. Nicole was volunforced to preside as the ritual's priestess (she's been initiated, after six years of study, as a first degree priestess - Go Nicole !!) and I'm glad I did attend it. It was very interesting and they did an incredibly good job of explaning what they were doing and how it worked. I've been to a lot of churches and I've seen a lot of people just going through the motions, but Nicole, the Priest (one of the High Priests of the Wiccan Church of Canada), the Handmaiden and the Summoner absolutely were in this with their hearts and souls. It was refreshing and very beautiful. We, the audience, were encouraged to participate in the Circle and that was a lot of fun, too, with all the singing and the crazy circle dance that we did. I can certainly understand how paganism of this sort is growing in Canada, it offers a very different type of faith, full of study and companionship that offers balance between the genders and community to everyone involved.

Finally, I should mention the insanity of Saturday night. Nicole and I rarely attend the specific convention events because we're tired, or we have other commitments, or something, but this time, we made a special effort to attend both the Masquerade and the dance. It's a good thing we did, too, since we had our egos pumped up enormously. I was dressed in a shirt and tie, pin-striped corset, black pleated skirt and my "Sith" robe (which in this case was pretty Potter-esque) and much to my surprise, I was stopped for about seven or eight photographs. I had something of a Harry Potter school marm sexy chic going on. Someone told me that all I needed to complete the outfit was a riding crop and a book. Okay. Next time, I'll do it, just for the effect. *cackles* Conventions are so much fun ! I danced with one of the guests, the Canadian on the list, Chris Owen, who played Agent Spender on X-Files. He was hysterically funny, dancing like a crazy university student and pissed out of his mind. He was a lot of fun and he danced with EVERYone. I also made a special effort to pull my old highschool chum, Eric Briggs, out onto the dance floor and helped him out of his no-dancing shell. He has rhythm, now all he needs to do is practice ! God, what fun. After all the attention Nicole and I received, the final moment was when we were driving home, late that night, and were sitting in the turn lane at Spadina and College, next to a super stretched white limo. The window rolled down and there were two guys who looked like they were drunk frat boys sitting inside. To say they were checking us out puts it mildly. "Hey, hi !" they called out, "Pull over !!" Pull over? We were in the left-hand turn lane. We enjoyed their attention until the light changed and then waved somewhat mockingly and left them behind. What makes this even better is that while they were in this mondo-limo, we were sitting in dirty, rusted Scarlette ! I love my car, I've had so many silly adventures while driving her. :)

I think that this post more than makes up for the lack of posts over the last five days, so I'll end it here.

Calling Tobe the Vomit Bullet is apt, it seems, as today, as she so often does, she hurled again. And I mean hurled. There was kitty vomit full of breakfast and hairball goodness. God, it was vile. Willi, on the other hand rarely needs to throw up, however; she gets walked to the bathroom twice a day in order to fascilitate her NOT peeing in my bedroom. She is currently sleeping on my desk, a place that puts her right next to me, her favourite person, and also out of the reach of the demonic Bullet. It's cute, but she does impede my work when she sits up or stretches, or washes her bottom. I find myself looking around her rather than moving her. I am accomodating. The humans that belong to cats are easily whipped. Yesterday, Willi received a piece of hotdog from Stew. Bad Stew.

My dinner, last night, went quite well. It was far more interesting than the union meeting beforehand, which I'll skip over entirely. Auntie Karen, as I'm now calling her, helped me develop a job hunting strategy. I'll take all the help I can get at this point. She does not believe I should compromise my skills, merely refine the manner in which I look for employment. Basically, I'm to report to her at the end of the summer to discuss all the steps I will have taken by that point (if I am not already working). And, it would be very helpful if I did not let my pride get in the way of the things I need. Stupid pride, always getting in the way. I won't go into it here, as some of this is really no one's business by mine and hers, but suffice it to say that she was helpful and fun, and a delicious chef. Thanks so much, Karen !

Progress is being made for this weekend. It's Toronto Trek this weekend and, yes, I will be working it with Nicole at her booth. I was a bit late signing up for the artshow so all the panels were taken. This is kind of sucky, but at the fee of $16, it's still worth it to display my art on a table. I'm alright with this. I spoke with the co-ordinator of the show/auction and it shouldn't really be a problem. I also discussed the Worldcon that will be taking place here at the end of August. The fees are enormous, requiring a membership to the convention in order to hang art, and the entry fee to the art show is also very costly (but nothing compared to the membership fees). It has a reputation for allowing artists to network and whatnot, and it attracts a high calibre of work, but the fees, the fees... I don't know. I cannot believe that it would truly be worth it, or that my work is good enough, or even that anyone would actually buy anything. Anyway, that's for another time.

Rick is studying for one of his computer certification exams that he is finally planning to take this and next weekend. It's about frickin' time. I'm very happy that he's actually going through this because I really don't want him to box himself in. Being proactive shows that, even though he is currently employed, he keeps up with things and takes an active interest in bettering himself. That's something -I- would look for in a technical worker, anyway. Good luck to him with his exams.

Now, if you've got nothing else to do and feel like killing some more time, go to Google and type weapons of mass destruction into the search line - don't use quotations or anything - then rather than clicking search, hit the I'm feeling lucky button. Good stuff !

Okay, it was the last post in more than a week, but my loyal readers could never possibly have believed that I'd actually get back to this journal on -time-, did they? No, of course not. Anyway, here I am, back in Toronto after a marvellous week at my cottage and a few days at my mother's house, ready to get to work and already feeling tired. How burdensome is the daily grind, how quickly our days of leisure pass.

I shouldn't spend too much time describing my adventures at the cottage simply because I am supposed to be doing work right now and have to get ready for a union meeting and a dinner at a friend-of-the-family's place. I've got a torte (a fancy pie) to take for dessert. I saw quite a bit of wildlife while I was gone, deer most of all. Usually, when I'm at my cottage in late August, deer are in hiding, but in the early summer, they're everywhere ! There were does with fawns, a pair of twin fawns (a wonderful story for another time), and an enormous buck with only nubby antlers. Also, there was so much joyous birdsong. The birds are in their molt in August, so they're quiet, but late June and early July has them singing their hearts out. When Ryan was up (yes, he actually came !) we saw deer and porcupine, and while Ray was there for the last couple of days, there was evidence of moose, though neither of us saw it. There's a beaver, but the lake isn't overpopulated as usual, which is good. There's a turtle, we think it's a snapper, in the lake - it kept surfacing in the bay and floating for a bit before disappearing under again. The bugs weren't bad. I missed the blackflies, the mosquitoes hadn't come out much yet, only the deer flies were wicked, but mostly only on the road.

Anyway, I'm going to stop here, because I'm clearly not getting anything done. More to come in the future.