...official goodbye

so...you both (both referring to my two viewers, Mrs. H and Seastar) are well aware that I am not the best at updating my blog...Mrs. H, I'm quite certain you've given up checking my page quite some time ago...am I right? Right.  Seastar, you've yelled at me on numerous occasions re: my lack of updates

SO! To combat my pitiful blogging diligence (but more so because previous postings are not "family friendly" - case in point: Thou shalt not fornicate post) Mr. L and I will be starting a new blog sometime in the near future, which will be authored by the BOTH of us.  Worry not - you will be relayed the link.

Until then, adieu dear friends!  Adieu.

seedlings, blossoms and lots and lots of manure

It's been a busy week here at the L&L household.  We cleaned up our "garden", went to see the cherry blossoms, and visited Mr. L's grandma/uncle's farm in London.  Proof is posted below.

The new comers

Weeds

After weeding...sadly, this is 100 times more "homey" and aesthetically pleasing than before.

breath of fresh air

Mr. L and I were supposed to go for our morning run today but a particular somebody (who shall remain nameless) decided to sleep in.   Okay fine.  T'was me.  I was tired, and I think I had a restless sleep and my fatigued legs just wanted to...not run...a little more.   In any case, as "punishment" we forced ourselves to go for a night run after we came home from our AQ courses.

I should be more clear; Mr. L called it "punishment".  I on the other hand find night runs a delight.  There's something very comforting about running in the cloak of darkness (perchance I was a thieving vagrant in a previous life).  I'm afforded the luxury of not having to worry about sharing the sidewalk with pedestrians, free from their stink-eye attacks as I sidle past them.  It's just me, the store fronts, the occasional headlights of cars whizzing past, and the concrete beneath me feet.  The cool night breeze slaps my face every now and again and urges me to keep going, to keep pushing forward, to make it to that bridge.

The bridge I'm referring to is the one located on the Danforth overlooking the Don Valley Parkway, and is another reason I enjoy my night runs.  There's something very calming about peering over the bridge and seeing the parade of lights ess down the Parkway, feeling the rumble of the bridge as the train passes beneath.

On that note, adieu.

liar, liar, pants on fire

Fine.  T'is not true.  One is not set ablaze for telling a tall tale - though...sometimes I really wish they were.  Moreover those hiding the truth or omitting information (probably because one knows it is - or can be conceived as being - questionable behavior) should be subject to the same fate.  


Today falls under the category of those "sometimes".  Alas - all I can do is squint my eyes and pretend their head is exploding.  I jest...but not really.  I think my pants just caught flame...

A liar...caught on fire...or perhaps doing a cool dance.  Who's to say.

see, see, no touch

I am a proud member of the Only-Child Society (heretofore referred to simply as "OCS").  I am certain that you (the general public) have made contact on numerous occasions with members of this highly recognizable group.   A high degree of independence and need-to-get-one's-way-ism, and "selfishness" (though this designation is often due to misinterpretation of our disposition by laymen) are some of the most notable characteristics of OCS individuals.  Not to expose myself as a celebrity, but...I am actually the poster child for OCS.

I could elaborate on several characteristics I share with my fellow OCS members, however, they are so vast in number that I grow weary at the mere thought of it.  So, I shall elaborate on the "selfish" aspect of our group only.

Unless it's the sharing of ideas/resources with colleagues, I do not like to share. It doesn't matter what it is - a toy, a pencil, my notes, my partner's affections....- but what's mine, is mine.  If you like it, you should have got one for yourself; leave mine alone.

Why do I have such an aversion to sharing?  For starters, people are generally disrespectful of other people's things.  They chew on the end of your pencil "unknowingly" and return the saliva covered, half eaten,  "writing utensil" back to you with a mere "sorry about that" as a pathetic attempt to rectify the fact that they've reuined a once perfectly prestine, working pencil (an act of blasphemy to the Business-Depot gods really). No.  I reject your apology.  If I wanted a sample of your enzymatic juices, I would have stuck my finger in your mouth, jerk.  You owe me a new pencil.  Or they borrow your notes, written on crisp, card-stock Five-Star quality paper and they get returned to you, doggy eared with coffee stains accompanied yet again by a mere "sorry about that."  I gave you the gift of knowledge and this is the thanks I get?  No.  I reject your apology...and I kind of want to stab you in your eye...

Also, I have this derranged belief that once I share something, its value is diminished to me, or conversely my significance to it is diminished.  If multiple people can have the same access to the same item, I feel like there is a diminished sense of preference/significance per individual.   I like to hold on to my possessions like they're my treasures - like I'm the special gatekeeper with sole, unlimited access.  Does this characterize me as a "selfish" individual?  Perhaps.  Ultimately, I'm just looking out for myself...it's not a bad idea that you do the same.

Like goats to my ears...

As a self-proclaimed "honorary member" of Mr. L's family, I have the privilege of being exposed to all sorts of whimsy and..."unique"...experiences.  Case in point: private Rik Palieri house concert hosted by Mr. L's parents last Saturday night.  

T'was my first house concert.   I had been ignorant to the existence of such concerts up to this point...though I've conferred with my Seastar and she too had been unaware...perhaps it's a cultural thing...perhaps its a deprived childhood/life thing...who's to say...toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.  In any case, the night began with Mr. L and I rushing over to the parent's nest for dinner...with Mr. Palieri in attendance.  Mr. L's family is a rather musical bunch, and their knowledge of obscure...yes...OBSCURE...artists and instruments (that never ceases to astound me) helped the dinner conversation progress smoothly.  I on the other hand, gave smiles and giggles here and there but for the most part, stuck to what I knew: food.  I don't mean conversing about it so much as eating it.  And let me tell you, the food was glorious!  The flavourful, savoury taste of the creamy red-pepper sauce of the pasta danced on my palate until I guided the delectable, morsel of food - a celebrity really - down its journey into my eagerly waiting stomach, in which, I imagine, an after-party was held in celebration of the arrival of such a special guest.  In short, I really enjoyed dinner.

The guests started to arrive sometime after 7pm and the show was ready to go by 8.  For the first half of his act, Rik had us singing along to his banjo/guitar (named lucky)/aboriginal love flute/harmonica (the silliest of all instruments in my mind) tunes.  There was singing, there was clapping, and there were smiles all around.  But it was the second half of his act that really had me blown away.  For one, he had a song about a doll with my FULL name...creepy...Second, for his second last song, he played....A GOAT.  Let me put in context...it was a goat that's been made into a Polish bagpipe.  I thought it was pretty cool at first...but then the inflated goat skin (which still had the form of a goat just head- and legless) really started to get to me...mmm it was a very similar moment to the Simpson's episode when Lisa turns vegetarian "Pleeeasseeee Lisssaaa don't eeeat me!  I thought you looooove me....looooove me."  Like that.  Though I suppose I wasn't eating the goat...just...listening to it.

Anyhow, I sulked my way into having Mr. L take a quick photograph of said goat before we left for home.  The proof is posted below.  Enjoy.

Goat.  Though I now realize it looks more like a cat in this pic.

Hurrah for Y chromosomes!!

We finally received a positive response from a school!

Mr. L fired off an email last night to an international school in Gyeongnam.  Actually...it was technically a follow-up email to the one I had sent them almost a month ago.  I've been trying to get in contact with this school since February 12, and each time I was sent an automated email saying "We have received your email and will respond to you soon." uh...yeah. no. They never got back to me. Mr. L shot off the email late last night, and they responded within hours!! I sense sexism at play...BUT! No matter! The school is "very interested in our application."

After a long hiatus of International School contact, days weeks of mulling over our apparently "undesirability" and a rough day at school (curses to shortened periods!), their response is most welcomed. Dangle a job in front of me and I can overlook their preference for the "male species"...after all, I tend to prefer them myself so who am I to judge?