Labels: Musings, Photographs, Travels

I desire this t-shirt.

And this one: Owl Who Vs. Whom.

I have updated my 43things. I am on a mission!

I am also being inspired by FiftyTwoProjects. I will be doing some of the writing exercises tonight, even though it is past 8:30, and therefore, past my bedtime. I am a wild woman tonight.

Sia has a wonderful cover of Radiohead's "Paranoid Android". Speaking of Radiohead, I sang "Creep" last weekend on Rock Band. I love Rock Band. It's a whole new level of singing with your eyes closed in front of strangers, making closed fists with your hands.

Labels: Musings, Shopping

Sometimes I can't decide on whether or not Urban Outfitter's is cute and trendy, or unforgivably tacky. Evidence: Motel-inspired furniture. I cannot fathom why anyone would want furniture that is usually found placed next to dirty hookers and giant tubs of discount cocaine. On the plus side, check out this wicked copy of The Neverending Story by Michael Ende. I'm going to be honest here, partly because I've had a lot of sun and a lot of ice cream and lying takes way too much energy, I don't really enjoy The Neverending Story. The first movie is borderline awesome, but the book, much like the film series, begins to totally peter out until midway through you can't even remember why you're reading it in the first place. Seriously, if it was between The Neverending Story and the packaging on a box of tampons for bathroom reading, I would be all over that the box of tampons like white on rice.

Still though, despite the above paragraph, it looks like a beautiful book. I have the same problem with The Wind In the Willows. They have gorgeous hardbound copies of that book, but I am about 99% certain Mr. Toad will never stop being creepy and vaguely nauseating, no matter how gold embossed the pages.

Last weekend I took photographs at a Victorian Rose Tea. Jamie came along as my photographer's assistant extraordinaire and held my cameras. My camera is still acting questionably, and somehow the 300mm lens got itself jammed onto my dad's camera, so I've been switching both of them up and hoping they hold out for a little while longer, at least until I can afford to buy a 40d .. which is on sale right now... hmmm. Saving would be a lot easier if I stopped buying crap like dollhouses and cake plates. And giant boxes of junior mints. It's never too early for Junior Mints. I like to enjoy them at 5:30 a.m., when I get up for work.

Getting up super early agrees with me. I'm no longer heading to bed at 8:30. Mostly. Next week we start work at 6 a.m., so I'll be rolling out of bed, tying back my hair, and heading out to wow the workplace with my early morning hotness. Sometimes, brushing your hair is optional.

I leave you all with a picture of the King and Queen of the Victorian Tea. They are adorable. I want to shrink them down and carry them around with me in my pocket.

Labels: Musings, Shopping

I like to think about lots of random things at work, while I'm mastering the art of dragging a rake across soil, or shovelling pond scum out of a pond. (Incidentally, no matter what anyone tells you, the smell of pond scum NEVER comes out of your clothes. I mean, good luck and all, if you ever find you've fallen into a fetid pond, or made an unfortunate attempt at ill advised swimming, but I can guarantee you now... that's the kind of smell that lodges itself in your nostrils. Kind of like how I can't drink Mike's Hard Lemonade, because the smell and taste remind me of warm summer nights spent vomiting over Melissa MacGill's balcony.)

Sometimes I think about things I'd like to buy when I get paid, like this shirt. Although, this is nothing compared to things I've received / bought in the past few weeks, because 25 should always be served with a dash of panic and a heaping spoonful of therapeutic selfishness. Sometimes I think about Disney songs. The themes from Beauty and the Beast go through my head at least half the day. That's right. I'm the crazy groundskeeper who spends half the day thinking about singing dinnerware.

Did I tell you guys that I DRIVE A TRACTOR? I feel as though this should always be referred to in capitals because it's so awesome. I drove my Uncle Ron's loader once, and I accidentally brought the giant claw down and took a chunk out of the road. He kept trying to tell me which button to press to stop from destroying the driveway, but I somehow managed to just keep digging deeper. We christened the pile of gravel "Sarah's Load". DRIVING A TRACTOR is going at least 15% better that this. I have thus far managed to avoid all flower beds. .... Mostly.

I am usually really exhausted after work. I peel off my dirt encrusted jeans and have really hot showers that involve a lot of nothing. It's a challenge to even find the energy to wash my hair. Creating a lather? Whatever. Most times I am probably lucky to open the shampoo bottle. Having a bath would be a lot easier, but the concept of filling the tub with water is much too hard. I don't have time to wait for that because I am an old woman who goes to bed before most of the 8 year olds on our block. Seriously, I am going to go to bed in like, 15 minutes, and I can still hear all the jam hands outside playing and starting fires and chasing each other around with used needles. Whatever the kids do. I'm out of the loop.

Tonight I had pledged to make my fellow coworkers cinnamon buns, but there was a bit of a yeast / margarine debacle and I don't think the result is nearly edible enough. Also, it is 8:30 now and my inner clock is already thinking about getting into my pajamas and rinsing out my dentures.

I had an EEG today, which was interesting. The gel is still in my hair, so I look pretty unwashed. I must've looked rough earlier when I stopped with my mom in Winner's on the way back to Chilliwack. The lady at the counter looked at my credit card, then at me, then back at my credit card, and demanded I show her some picture I.D. Because I totally would've stolen a credit card to buy some 4 dollar stationery and a 7 dollar cake stand apparently.

The dollhouse is coming along, very slowly. It's actually been a couple of weeks since I've really worked on it. I still have to finish painting the bottom left hand room and the attic, as well as the outside (which is currently white with red shutters and a black roof.) Then I'm going to start on the floors, either using decorative cardstock or hand painting hardwood-esque floors onto them. I don't know what I'm going to do with it when I'm finished. I will probably gaze at proudly, maybe in the manner that Jamie and I gazed at Safeway's panini's the other day. The lady came over to ask if we needed any help, and I told her that we were fine, that we were just gazing longingly at sandwiches. Because that is what we do on dates.

Labels: Musings, Shopping

My cousin Luke and his girlfriend came down this weekend to kick back and relax it all cool, possibly while playing some b-ball outside of the school. That's when a couple of guys who were up to no good broke into Brad's car and stole my brand new MP3 Player. It was especially sad because I had only just finished cramming it with Led Zeppelin. I had been looking forward to belting out "When the Levee Breaks" while planting flowers, possibly followed by the X-Ray Specs "Oh Bondage, Up Yours!" while driving a tractor in jeans two times too big on me.

Side note, bending over is kind of a chore in large pants. I am pretty sure I have flashed my goods at one time or another to all my coworkers, and soon, the general public .... aka, delightful old ladies in pastel Easter hats.

Anyways, my MP3 player. They broke into the car while it was in the Vancouver Hotel parkade, busting Brad's lock and opening up the car to access the sweet bevy of music found within. Luckily they left Brad's impressive music collection alone. I guess there isn't much of a demand for Heart on audio cassette. While it sucks that it's gone, it could've been a lot worse. What pisses me off however is the cavalier attitude displayed by the staff of the Vancouver Hotel. When Brad told the ticket operator about the break in, while pointing to their sign claiming 24 hour video surveillance, the man simply nodded and told us how much we owed for parking. I realize that an MP3 player isn't high up on the list of major thefts, but some reaction would've been appropriate. It sort of threw me into a bad mood for the rest of the afternoon, so much so that I could barely enjoy a bucket full of gecko's on a stick in Chinatown.

Geckos. On a stick. I am totally serving that up at my next summer barbecue.

I did cheer myself up with some awesome purchases, like shoes in bright red. I am wearing them right now and might never take them off. I also bought a hoodie and emblazoned "Sarah the Pirate" on it. That's right. I am now meandering around town wearing a personal shoutout to my blog. And by "town" I mean "Easter Sunday at church."

Brad and I have also decided to tell the world that we're twins. It works because he would like to remain 25 for the next five years or so, and sometimes we inexplicably end up wearing matching clothes. Like on Friday when we went bowling wearing brown hoodies and blue jeans. I'm not sure how it happened, it wasn't intended, but I'm pretty sure faux twins dressing alike well into their 20's is perfectly acceptable in everyday society.

I am now off to dinner at Jamie's family's house... first time meeting his extended family. I am kind of nervous. I hope I don't mix up my consonants or drink too much wine. I don't think things would go over well if I suddenly slammed my wine glass down and challenged his grandmother to a shot contest.

Labels: Family, Musings, Sarah Land, Shopping

I am turning 25 in a few days and I'm not sure how I feel about this. So far, not much. I've been having weird dreams lately, about zombies and apocalypses and genitals the size of a baseball bat (don't ask.) I'm not really where I wanted to be when I turned 25, but to be honest, when I was fourteen 25 looked like a giant character home on the edge of the ocean, writing world famous novels with my thirteen children in tow. When I was seventeen, 25 was living in England, quickly developing a kick ass accent and letting ocean winds test their will against my hair.

At twenty-four, 25 looks like a start towards an art degree, a boyfriend who does a fine robot, and a wealth of people I'm so incredibly lucky to have in my life. Even if most of them live too far away, they are never far from my heart.

.... I totally stole that from a mug I saw at Hallmark. These days I share my feelings more easily than a Jane Seymour movie that references the inappropriate touching of horses.

I've decided, anyways, that I'd like to start learning something new everyday. Not being in school means that a lot of time seems to just slip by without gaining any new knowledge. I carry a notebook around with me, for whenever I feel like pulling out my inner thesaurus to express my feelings in black Sharpie and a whole repetoire of words meaning "ouch, my heart," but sometimes I also use it to write down books I want to read, music I should listen to, or things I'd like to learn more about. Unfortunately, many of my ideas don't get past the jotting down stage, but I intend to remedy that by researching something new everyday, and posting it on this here blog.

On a side note, I've started uploading some old film stills to flickr, found here, as well as some photographs taken at the same time of Thunder Bay's Pioneer Village, found here. Interestingly enough, if you check out a pamphlet from the Pioneer Village, my dad's in it.

Labels: Musings, Sarah Land

1. I went to visit a career counsellor. What was interesting is that I went in there and said, "I was kind of thinking I might want to be a teacher." and she gave me this look like, "Like hell you do, Sovereign." We worked through a ton of things -- what makes me happy, what I love to do, what I do with my spare time and even addressed how much I suck when I procrastinate, and the end result is that I will be applying to university in the Fine Arts program. On a related note, I've decided that I would really love to take up pottery. The career counsellor also suggested I start a vision board, so I started plastering things to the previously boring furnace room doors:



2. I have plants. They are named Harold and Rosemary, and they are currently soaking up as much sun as possible on my art table. Harold is a mysterious plant who looks like he might one day be a tree, and Rosemary is, well, Rosemary. Pretty soon I intend to start a herb garden. The awesome thing about my room is that it looks out onto a patio, so I'm in the process of cleaning things up out there so I can set up a reading / planting / art spot out in the sun.



3. Speaking of the sun, there has been a steady stream of beautiful days over here in Chilliwack. My mom and I went for a walk along a river trail whose name I can't remember and I saw a heron. I think. I don't know. It was bird shaped. I also saw this old abandoned PMQ style house whose property I want to trespass on so I can photographically capture it in all it's creepy beauty.

4. Tonight I am making dinner, greek style. There are tons of Greek restaurants here, and all of them are amazing. I never realized before how much greek food rocks my world, but tonight I've decided to attempt something edible. We're having Grecian Pork Tenderloin, Greek salad, and Greek roasted potatoes with lemon , and for dessert, Greek Lemon Cake. Pictures and updates to follow, as I attempt to not destroy the kitchen with dinner.

Labels: Musings, Recipes and Projects

Still sending out resumes, still waiting for replies. I think part of my thus far unsuccessfulness is due to presentation. So next time I drop off a resume I'm totally going to wear sparkle pants while pulling a donkey with the words "HIRE SARAH" painted onto his coat with vegetable dye.*

What else is new? I am looking for a really great shade of lipstick. I do not understand cosmetics. When I finally began buying makeup, back in Grade Nine, I got the palest possible cover up, which made me look like the dead twin in Flowers In the Attic. Except huskier, and coupling an orange turtleneck with overalls while whining for chips. After applying this powder to my face, I went on the hunt for suitable lipstick. Lacking funds, I borrowed my Nanny's.

My Nan was a great woman, and hot as hell in her day, with a bone structure you could cut a roast with. She was very fashionable, and always dressed to the nines, but who in the hell knows where she got her lipstick from. It was this nauseating Pepto Bismal shade and I smeared it onto my lips in at least seven layers to get the full affect. I would go into how I completed my look with about five tonnes of blue eyeshadow, but I think you've all heard enough and can properly conclude why I was a dateless loser back in high school.

Anyways. I like to think I'm doing better these days, but that doesn't make up for the fact that I mostly don't know anything about makeup. Although I think I've moved past the Stealing Cosmetics From the Elderly stage. I was at Shopper's Drug Mart the other day trying lipstick shades. The lipstick I normally get, Blush (I think?) by Revlon has been discontinued and I've been trying for weeks now to find a decent replacement. Everything seems to wash me out too much though. That and I'm still tempted by the names, smells and prices of Bonnebell. Because at heart I am probably a fourteen year old girl.

I kept noticing the Shopper's Drug Mart lady fluttering around in my peripheral vision, sort of checking in on me from time to time, likely to make sure I was not pocketing discount mascara or watching me struggle with testers or just looking incredibly confused when confronted with foundation powders. (Do not even get me started. I had a bit of an incident with Ivory lotion and cream 2 in 1 whatever stuff tonight at Walmart. That is not even it's official name, but ... really, I was too busy being distracted about how I'd just become an Oompa Loompa thanks to the tester.) Anyways, the woman finally came up to me and recommended that I try testing the lipstick on the tips of my fingers, as they are generally closer to the colour of the lips.

This would probably work for most people, but unfortunately, the tips of my fingers always look like I've been dipping them in fruit juice, or possibly, eating lots of ketchup chips. Still though, it's probably a lot more effective than looking puzzingly at the lipstick shade for twenty seconds, envisioning myself wearing it for a good millisecond before I get distracted by other thoughts... like fun hats or dinosaurs I might want to ride. **

So I am still on the quest for colours and cosmetics that will work for me. Any suggestions? what do you guys use?

*Or maybe a snappy limerick? Like, "There once was a girl with blonde hair, Who had a hot derriere, She needed a job, Not to live like a slob, Thank Christ she's got a pair." That should really be the verse inside my Christmas cards. ***

***Honestly, usually I use the tester on my hand, but I think that my skin is too anemically challenged for anything to look all that decent. In the meantime, my saviour has been "Love Thy Lips", a really awesome lip balm I picked up in Tlell many moons ago.

*** Yes, I have not yet sent my Christmas cards. But just like the knitted, decorative Christmas sweater I am right this minute wearing, it is never too late for Christmas.

Labels: Musings, Suitcase of Memories

I like to look at cats sometimes and figure out what sort of humans they'd make. For instance, in a previous life, Matilda was a world champion gymnast who wowed nations with her proficiency on the balance beam. Her floor routine was superb, her technique amazing, and sometimes, even now, when she's wandering through a room, you can see her thinking, "God, if only I had some ribbons and a little 2 Unlimited on the audio cassette tape player."

Sometimes, when she climbs up into the window, she'll fit herself between the window panes and do little flips to turn herself around, and as she stands on her hind legs for balance, one is tempted to believe she is the most amazing cat in all the land.

Except she's not, because this one time, she had me outside at 6 in the morning in my housecoat calling for dead kittens. So... not that awesome. Also, sometimes, if you pick her up, she will completely freak out and claw her way up your neck, springboard off your back and attempt a really graceful, perfect ten finish onto the linoleum. Like, good luck in a tsunami evacuation Matilda. MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE REJECTED ME WHEN ALL I WANTED TO GIVE YOU WAS MY LOVE. Something to keep in mind for your next life.

Jax, on the other hand, in his past life, lived with his mom until he was 50. And even then, it wasn't so much that he moved out, as much as she took him with her by lacing his food with Drano. As a result, he's pretty skittish. He's really coming into his own these days though. Sometimes, he rummages through any available nearby plastic bags, picks out one that he really likes, and dons it as a cape.

This is followed by him strutting around the house in all his finery, possibly looking for Matilda because .... gymnasts appreciate great outerwear.

He's kind of a spaz. If he were a person, he'd have all of his taxes done on time and if he spilled salt, he'd immediately throw some over his left shoulder. He would be sure to knock on wood if he said anything overly definite about life, and if no wood was available, he'd be sure to stop midsentence, look around suspiciously and say it instead. He'd say it twice, just in case. He'd be just a little bit gay and his favourite movie ever would be Milo & Otis. He'd belong to a lot of anime fan clubs.

He gets really injured if you make fun of him, possibly because he's the greatest cat in all the land. A little while ago Melissa and I were laughing about his makeshift plastic bag cape, and he jumped off the bed and sat a foot in front of us, back turned, not looking in our direction at all. We said his name a few times but he just twitched an ear and continued to stare forward, finally running towards Matilda where they could participate in a sudden, spontaneous match of shadow boxing behind a backlit curtain.

The addition is directly outside of my window and the drop down from my room isn't really that far, so the cats occasionally go out there. Sometimes Max throws random things out the window to gently coax them down. This is why the roof is now littered with used paintbrushes, plastic action figures and makeshift boomerangs made by taping two pencils together. Matilda gets in and out of my window like she's re-perfecting her trampoline skillz WITHOUT THE TRAMPOLINE, but Jax has a little more trouble.

Matilda outweighs Jax by about a billion pounds, possibly because she has gym teacher thighs, but she manages it pretty breezily. Jax, on the other hand, will sit outside the window, jumping ceaselessly for the top ledge, getting increasingly panicky as he realizes that he is stuck, stuck outside FOREVER, without ANY ACCESS TO FOOD. And is going to starve to death. Seriously, after a few minutes, he is pretty certain he can feel the first signs of starvation and if he doesn't get inside soon, he's going to have to resort to EATING HIS OWN LEG.

Both Melissa, Max and I have tried half leaning out the window and pulling him up, but he shies away from us. Max, because Jax is afraid of anything under 5 feet, Melissa because he's a little unsure still if she's completely worthy of his affections, and me because he's being a pain in the ass. I've tried putting a blanket out on the slick roof so he can use that as leverage, but he makes a direct point of not stepping on it.

I'm pretty certain he thinks it might have a land mine under it, and honestly, he'll need to save all his limbs so he can later eat them to stave off death.

Finally, we've managed a system where, after he's tried it on his own for twenty minutes, I go lean out of the window and he "tries" one more time, half landing in my open arms, and I haul him back through the window and shower him with love.

Jax IS the best cat in the land. I'm not much of a cat person, but I am definitely a Jax person. When Jax dies, I am going to have him stuffed in an action pose, possibly something incorporating a little bit of my beloved Le Tigre and I'm going to take him on the road with me. Riding on the bus, going to the bank, eating at restaurants, family swim night ... we'll do EVERYTHING together. It'll be amazing.

*****

I wrote this entry earlier this month, but hadn't posted it yet. (I am lazy.) BUT, I thought it important to add a few new details. First of all, Matilda has totally warmed up. SINCE GIVING BIRTH TO KITTENS.

I saw kittens being born! It was like Biology class but without getting formaldehyde covered frog insides thrown into my hair during a spontaneous high school boy dissection day confetti parade, or without Suvi taking incredibly unsubtle photographs of our hot student teacher Mr. Mayo with her disposable camera.

Labels: Musings

Incidentally, "I'll Be Home For Christmas" is like, the saddest song ever. We were at this big dinner thing with my parents, and the lounge singer started belting it out and I actually started tearing up a little bit. I mean, tearing up partly because the lyrics are so melancholic, but also maybe partly out of laughter because the lounge singer kept pointing at random people in the audience and kind of nodding an ultra cool hello at them. Brad kept impersonating it all through Christmas. If I ever become a lounge singer, I'm totally going to do that.

I will also totally half beach myself onto a piano. Seriously. I've seen this in pictures and it looks pretty damn classy.

Also, although this has nothing to do with pianos or lounge singers or anything, I bought this fabulous cardigan. It's this sort of wine-red and knitted with a tie up around the middle, and I like to wear it while I'm writing or you know... all the time.

I'm pretty excited about it. I think I might like, grab some used kleenexes and roll them up into the sleeves. Might even keep some peppermints in the pockets and loose pieces of chlorophyll-flavoured gum in there.

I'm not entirely sure, but like, according to almost every elderly person I've ever met, this is exactly what cardigans are for.

Labels: Musings

1) Melissa McClelland is amazing. Blue Farewell. Passenger 24. That's all I have to say.

2) You can buy overpriced postcards featuring crappy family photos of a Chilliwackian bridge at the Mennonite thrift store. If you buy lots of these you can send them to everyone you know, so they, too, can enjoy the grainy quality of half naked fat people lounging on a beach circa 1966.

3) Was leafing through an old journal of random quotes and drawn miscellania when I found a quote from Ange from a few months ago, "I love your freckles ... can I connect the dots... with my tongue?"

4) Lindsay, Banangela and I are starting a super wicked awesome cool 'zine which we are calling Paper Girl Pirates, and it will be shipping out of Masset sometime in the next month or so. Or two months. Honestly, all we've got so far is the name and the will to photocopy. If any of you want to get on the super exciting 'zine bandwagon, email me. I promise it won't be a 'zine that makes you want to gouge out your eyes with rusted spoons. It'll be awesome in the vein of David Bowie cakes with chocolate centres and kittens who also know kung fu and are likewise, inclined to use it.

5) The exploits of Laura and I are suddenly famous. Of course it's "Red River Ward". I knew this, but my inner retard translator turned it into "Warden" because ... being the Red River Warden. That might be cooler.

6) I am going to be late to go out this afternoon. I am not wearing any pants and haven't bathed and am thinking that all of my laundry is still on the spin cycle. But this is okay. I've heard that malls secretly abhor pants anyways.

7) I went to a Haunted House attraction called "Reaper's". ... with my parents. The highlight of this was when, gripping onto my mother like a five year old about ready to wet her pants, a werewolf jumped out of the shadows at me. Screaming like a banshee I fell against the wall, my arm raised as though ready to beat him off should he come any closer. He didn't. The werewolf actually backed off because when I scream, I scream like a crazy woman who has just caught you bothering her multiple cats with your overly loud rock n' roll music and comes screaming out of her house brandishing a carving knife, covered lovingly in cat hair and Whiskas.

Labels: Musings