rumspringa

These days, my life is pretty quiet. I have stitch 'n bitch, as usual, and other little events like that, punctuated by slightly more adventurous events. Didgeman and I had a fabulous time the Saturday before Hallowe'en hosting a pumpkin carving party.

we had fabulous turnout in terms of people and pumpkins...it was a last minute affair but everyone really rose to the occasion. Of all the pumpkins, though, my was the freakiest, due directly to its crunched features and uninspired 'Popeye' with indeterminate facial injuries "look". Well, the freakiness may have been more due from the idea that my poor friends couldn't quite get a handle on what I was going for, which is legitimate, since I also had no idea what I was going for. Well, you know the rules when wielding a knife: Fake it Till you Make it! Can't wait till I'm done cosmetic surgery school! Everyone else's were delightful/scary/fabulous, as intended. Mine was...uh....special. Well, Popeye the Deformed, Momma loves you.

I had a little rumspringa (it's Amish I think, look it up) of my own recently. My sister whisked me off to Montreal on a half hour's notice to go shopping, since her fiancée had picked up free tickets to the Canadiens/Tampa Bay Game for that night. He took a pal and I was going to look for my maid of honour dress. We got to Montreal, and the shops were either closed or dumb, or full of cool stuff we weren't going to buy due to our nomadic lifestyles, so we 'consoled' ourselves with a pitcher of micro-brewery amber beer on the main drag listening to the game and hanging out. Three hours and several "no, YOU'RE the best sister ever" drunken love statements/conversations (aww, she's the best. I love youuuuu) later, we caught our ride home and called it a fabulous night. So, now, as per the rules of Rumspringa, I have to decide between my old life with the colony, or a new life in the city while the colony shuns me.

well, if my 'colony' is my basement apartment with the time-bomb leaky pipe and endless days of "job hunting" on the computer, then consider me shunned! In fact, I suspect the dishes are already shunning me. Or, maybe they're calling to me and I'm shunning them. Hey, I never asked you, so leave me alone. I mean, man.

Heh. Anyways, it's been good times this month, hiking in the hills and catching movies and bonding with cats for the first time ever (how do you not love a deaf, stumpy toothed, back legs don't really work, misshapen headed cat who is SO happy all the time who can actually drink toilet water. FROM THE TOILET. ) And Molly's a really sweet cat too. So, I'm making my way over to being somewhat of a cat person.

Wouldn't that be a cool new version of the show "The Swan" where instead of mangling regular people into Barbie doll replicas with the new and improved burden of somehow pulling off the new look every day in their midwestern hometown Wal-Mart through copious amounts of plastic surgery and, hopefully, therapy, the show INSTEAD converted 'cat' people into 'dog' people, or 'bird' people into ' reptile' people or 'small, pouffy, yippy dog' people into REAL people with some semblance of a clue as to the unbelievable level of annoyance and cruelty they inflict upon society as they insist on parading these mutant animals around in handbags and shopping carts. Do you know what goes into handbags and shopping carts? Bar-B-Q meat and footballs and wallets made of leather and other products better suited for the world than those heinous animals.

Just an idea, I'm not sure how I'd pitch it to the TV executives though. You, know. Whatev.
Catch you on the flip side.

PS: Question: before the canal freezes I need to know what's cheap and fun and intersting to do in Ottawa. Any ides for a girl on a budget who also wants to lay claim to a life?? Anything? Group activities in specific, as there's at least four of us in this boat. Thank youuuuuuuuu!