Weekend Wrap-Up and Wrist Warmers

After a birthday party this weekend involving much in the way of delicious, delicious face stuffing at May’s house, I found myself wandering around the kitchen this afternoon with no laundry to do, a sink empty of dishes, and a clean floor, bathroom, even rabbit cage. My usual Sunday afternoon Family Guy sit-fest, it would seem, was on hold in favour of some golf tournament or another. Well shit. It’s not like I’ve got a ton of other channels since I refuse to pay for cable, so after passing on the thrilling options of foreign news, some shitty cowboy family drama, a CSI knockoff and some right wing debate over American drinking ages, I decided to forgo the squawk box and get some cleaning detailing done.

I’ve got one of those apartments that are old, tiny, and shoddily put together. There are nooks and crannies you just can’t get into to clean, and the appliances are ancient. The gas stove has been here since who knows when, andI guess it’s been a while since anybody thought to clean around the splashguards behind the knobs. It’s normally the kind of q-tip and bleach job that I wouldn’t bother with in a place I plan to leave behind by the end of the year, but I was bored and it was grossing me out. An hour of the Fugees later and you can see the difference.

gross on the left, better on the right

gross on the left, better on the right

In other news, I blew my power out again. Stupid microwave-spaceheater combination gets me every time. But the last time the landlord was here, he mentioned that the lady at the laundromat downstairs has a key to the utility room underneath the building. So since the power was knocked out a few minutes before midnight, I just slept through the night and waited until morning to see if she indeed had this free pass out of an embarassing phone call. Microwave gravy over homemade poutine and enough battery power in the laptop to watch a few episodes of Family Guy kept me happy enough. I even ate by valentine-shaped chocolate scented candles.

In the morning I went down and convinced the weird old lady in this tiny dusty shop that I seriously just needed to flip the breakers back on and wasn’t trying to stash a body or something. When I got down there it seemed like I wasn’t too far off. I swear they could rent the place out by the hour to malevolent knife welding maniacs in search of a dark corner to stow a rolled up stained carpet.

"Hi, my name is Dr. Jason McKruegerMeyers. I live in a cellar with a dish of rat poison. Please come in."

"Hi, my name is Dr. Jason McKruegerMeyers. I live in a cellar with a dish of rat poison. Please come in."

But at least once I braved my way inside the technical aspects were easy to figure out – there are only four apartments, each with it’s own box clearly labelled, and a set of switches. One of mine was flipped, and so naturally I flipped it back up. Return the keys, climb back upstairs, and presto! I fixed my own power!

I also sold another pair of wrist warmers, although technically that wasn’t this weekend. I’m working on a shawl right now. I’ll have pics of that soon enough, as well as a super romantic project I’m working on for Josh for our anniversary. You’ll see that soon enough too, it’s March 11th! Holy crap, I can’t believe a year has gone by already.

Anyways, it’s taking me quite a while, but it’ll totally be worth it. In the meantime, here are some pics of the Orange Blossom wrist warmers.

oh so pretty!

oh so pretty!

cutest pair ever

cutest pair ever

That’s all for now, I have more stuff to get working on!

Two Paws Up!


Woot! I have been given this award by the lovely Birdpress, whom I enjoy immensely! Like her, I am tempted to just hand this out to everyone on my blogroll, but agree that would be too easy. Her numerology idea to figure out how many recipients to pic is pretty nifty:

To calculate your numerology number:
Suppose your birth date was January 1, 2009
Add the numbers in your birth date like this:
• January 1, 2009 = 01/01/2009
• 01/01/2009 = 0+1+0+1+2+0+0+9 = 13
• 13 = 1+3 = 4

However, it gave me a three. And while I cannot claim to be a numerology expert, some other method eons ago came up with a four. Since it seemed to make plenty of personality-associated sense at the time, and I’m all about handing out more rather than less good tidings, I will choose four awesome recipients to proudly display their own two paws up award.


Ginny over at Praying to Darwin

Peter Parkour at Hate and Anger


I would also award one to Joan Harvest and my bestie Talea, but they were awarded along with me! I figure it’s best to spread the love further, hehe.

Oh, and since technically I do share this blog with Josh, I’m just going to go ahead and slather an extra bit of love over his other blog as well 😉

Peace out! I’ve got more shit to knit!

LOST – New Trendier, Toronto Edition

So every year, around the middle of February, Toronto seems to undergo a thaw. Not a permanent one, no. March always comes back and kicks us in the ass again. It’s just long enough to remind the optimists that spring is just around the corner, and just long enough to remind the pessimists that this corner is over a month long. Yes, February is just that much crueller in my neck of the woods. Could it be?!? Could it be spring?!?! Ha! Take that suckers!

In true form, it was way above average today. Mild. Misty. Tomorrow? This weekend? Ass cold again. And all this up and down has caused some rather nifty side effects. I noticed when leaving the house this morning that the track field across the street was covered in a thin layer of mist. Looks rather cool, thought I. The return this evening was rather more dramatic.

As a refresher, please recall the ordinary view from my back window.


normal day...


Now here’s the fun part. You see those buildings? In the background there? Yeah, they’re not that far away. I may not live *right* downtown anymore, but those buildings are closer than this picture would imply. The towers on the left, for example, I could get to in maybe twenty minutes on the street car, even ten on a good day. I could walk with no trouble. The large tower in the centre, on the other hand, is eons down the road. It’s somewhat of an optical illusion, because what you can’t tell from this perspective is exactly how MASSIVE this tower is. It’s the CN Tower, a staggering 1,815.4 feet tall, once the tallest freestanding building in the world up until Malaysia went and put up some shitty radio tower that nobody even knows about.

---------------------The CN Tower ----------------------^



The point is, you can normally see this thing for miiiiles away, especially now that it’s been affixed with neon tubing or whatever that is. For us city dwellers, the minute you can’t see this tower is the minute you are out of our beloved metropolis and very, very scared.

So yes, please imagine how I felt when this sight greeted me upon my arrival home this evening. Please imagine, just for a moment.





I know it’s foggy out, I get it! But they’re GONE! I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me when I was at street level, but you’d think I’d be able to see a massive neon tower from three stories up!

I haven’t even seen that Stephen King mist movie, and I’m still not going anywhere outside tonight. I don’t care if it’s outright balmy and it’s my Canadian duty to celebrate. I’m confused! Confused, scared, and a little bit lost!

Wake me up when I can find my way around again.

Miley Cyrus…Not Weird Enough For You Yet?

So I’ve got a bit of a hate-on for this chick. She just…gets to me. On every level. Not a thing out of her mouth warrants any artistic merit, and if her weird-ass Vanity Fair photos weren’t enough she now has some racist photo scanadal thing going on. Whatever. I can deal with all that vanilla media hype and chalk it up to some desperate paparazzi somewhere itching for that million dollar unflattering photo now that Britney has her shit together again.

And then I stumbled upon this while reading Cracked.com at the office trying to stifle my third-day-at-reception-with-nothing-to-do boredom.


Miley, you are a strange, bizarre little girl. Who’s bright idea was it to make these things flesh coloured?

And the weirdest part: “Individual Pouches for Portion Control.” Screw excess packaged waste, we don’t want our little Backfat Bettie’s getting fist deep in fake wang candies!

Won't somebody please think of the children!

Downsizing, Adorable Style

So it’s time to further downsize on the amount of fur in my apartment. It’s going to be complicated enough just getting one rabbit down to the states, never mind a second one who doesn’t like me very much anyways. I know a friend of a friend who moved her dogs across the border, and apparently there is a specific route to take involving kenneling and tests to make sure nobody is attempting germ warfare. So that part I’m not worried about. It was  more the cost, the anxiety over the well being of not one but two bunnies, wondering if they’d get along after being apart and relatively traumatized for two weeks. Turns out that within a few days of being seperated, the bunnies are quite comfy in their single lives. Frankly, I think Finnegan was tired of being molested by Sunshine. I’m all for equality, but she was one pushy girlfriend.

And so a new home has been found for Sunshine, and I’m sure she will do fine. After a few years with my animals being the centre of my life, I am back down to my original and unabashed favourite, Finnegan Cabbage Esquire. I do still miss Hannibal and Brutus quite a bit, the babies who now live on a farm north of the city, but I couldn’t ask Josh to take in me *and* my farm. Obviously I’ve got a new centre to my life, so as much as I love rabbits, I’m clearly going to make the sane choice here. So I’m content with just Finnegan.

One benefit of his fab new bachelor life is a new bach pad. It’s smaller than the monstrous hard to clean cage he and the she-bunny have been inhabiting. That one is going with her to the new owner. This one is brand spanking new and full of fun chewable accessories. Within a few minutes he was stretched out comfortably, but of course he took the time to get used to his new house and rearrange everything in his new corner in the living room.

I’m glad I get to keep  him! Don’t worry, as soon as I’m settled I’ll have a house full of animals again I promise to never buy another rabbit again hon, honest…