Look this one up

Phil's new word of the day:

"Tall-less-ness n. The state of being un-tall."

even more disturbing...

I don't know if it is more disturbing than Phlegm Chunks, but now I am being found through google under the search term "squashed mouse".
Perhaps I should start writing more about "quality writing", "fabulous blogger", and "best blog", to start getting people to find me through better terms!

New Piece

In January I quit teaching full-time in order to concentrate on painting full-time. I am feeling really good about this, although it is incredibly scary.
Here is the piece I finished this week:


Acrylic on canvas, 1.3m x 1m

If you know anyone interested in buying original artwork send them my way...

RIP Pablo

At the risk of this blog seeming like an obituary column, I have to report the death this week of our beloved bunny Pablo.
I think I have had all the deaths I can take this year...


Pablo, September 2005- February 2006

Beep beep!

I did promise in January to post photos of my now not-so-brand-spanking-new electric scooter. I was thinking of posting just a snap-shot, but when your boyfriend is a professional photographer snap-shots don't come easy.
Me: "Honey could you take a quick photo of my bike for my blog please?"
Phil: "Oh sure... I'll take it into the studio, clean it up, set up a few lights, maybe some filters..." [EYES GLAZE OVER AS HE STARES UN-SEEINGLY INTO THE MIDDLE DISTANCE WHILE NOTICABLY SALIVATING]

So here is Dolly (so named because she is all plastic):





Photos by Philippe Roy

disturbing...

I find it highly disturbing that someone from New Jersey Googled "phlegm chunks" and found my site. On closer inspection I find it even more disturbing that my blog is listed third for this search.

Ahh, more evidence of the quality writing supplied by yours truly.

Must be love...

In honour of Valentine's day... ah, ew, no, even I can't fake that. The truth is I just thought of the following blog entry and tried to make some link with the date, but, to be honest I don't care at all about V day.

[As an aside: That last comment was really so predictable when I was single, or even in a relationship but separated by innumerous seas and borders. I honestly thought that I was only kidding myself with that attitude, you know, putting on a brave face while buried knee-deep in so many dozens of other girls' red roses. But it turns out that, even though this year I am not only in a relationship, but also in the same country as my boyfriend on Valentine's Day, I STILL don't care about the date. Sure it's a good excuse to get flowers, but if I have to buy something in return, we might as well order a pizza and call it even.]

So back to the entry:

It Must Be Love.
6 months of living together and I am reminded daily that love is not red roses or chocolates (especially not chocolates... I am allergic). But rather love is shown in all of the following:

Bringing me more toilet paper when the roll has run out.
Letting me drink from his beer when I'm too lazy to go to the fridge to get my own.
Coming running to hold my hand when I am watching old re-runs of the x-files and suddenly scream in terror: "Baby I need you!!"... (and yes, I am fully aware I am pathetic).
Explaining patiently to me time and time again how "the goddamned demon inside my computer" works.
Not grimacing too badly when asked to pass a box of tampons.
Ikea.
Patiently dragging me bodily out of bed every morning while I whine "But I don't wanna go to school today mum!". Yes, every morning.
Not freaking out when I absent-mindedly pick out "names for the children", while stuck in peak-hour traffic in the back of taxis.
Not getting too uncomfortable when I follow him into the toilet to continue a conversation, and sit on the sink watching him while talking about curtains/dinner/work/etc.
Eating vegetarian when I can't be bothered to cook meat for him.
Shouting indignantly on my behalf at waiters when they bring my dessert smothered in chocolate, even though I distinctly told them I was allergic to it (this happens more often than you'd think).
Always, ALWAYS saying my cooking tastes great.
Letting me proudly show people in public the little belly I have cultivated on his previously flat stomach. And reassuring me constantly about the little belly I have cultivated on myself.
Not pointing out when I haven't shaved my legs in two weeks.
Scratching my back on command.
Putting eye ointment into my eyes, despite turbulence, on an airoplane at 30000 feet, simple because my eyes are dry but I can't be bothered getting up myself to use the mirror in the toilet. (In my defence it is not drops, it's a little tube with a scarily pointy nozzle... one air pocket and I would have had an eyeball kebab! Of course I still could have got up to the toilet....)
Not complaining when I begin asking "are we there yet?" before we have even checked our bags.

Yep, must be love.

so sad

I don,t know how to write this well. In fact I am not sure how to write it at all.
A week ago, my best friend in Shanghai, Miriam, was electrocuted and killed in her own appartment. The wiring in the old building was very badly done, and the building had no ground/earth wire.
So due to crappy chinese wiring, my beautiful friend was killed.
Her family in Italy have lost their daughter, sister, granddaughter and aunty. Her boyfriend has lost the love of his life. And I have lost a friend who I only knew for 6 months, and who I thought I had forever to get to know better.
I have never cried so much in my life, it is just so senseless.
Phil and I have now come to his home in Montreal, to get a break. At least here I don't see Miriam everywhere I go, remembering the last time we were there together. However, trudging through the snow, half a world away, I still see her in my mind. And cry. And cry. And cry.