I don't live here, it's just a timeshare.

Boyfriend was sick this week, poor wee monkey that he is, so on Friday when he left work early I told him to go to my place and crash and I would take care of him when I got home.

Well, I got home to discover that he was recovered, and had taken it upon himself to update my computer to the new Ubuntu release, 'Karmic Koala' (I am endlessly entertained by their release names, but wonder what will happen when they hit the ned of the alphabet). This didn't work out so well, breaking GRUB, and now I have no desktop. He swears it'll be easy to fix. Confidence levels are not at an all time high after he got home on Saturday and tried to update his HTPC's distro of Sabayon, with disastrous results.

I had a long talk with myself about denim this week as well. I have been known to lament the death of elegance in fashion (at great length, usually after a few gin&tonics). Specifically the fact that jeans, once an article of clothing reserved for working in the garden and young children at play in messy areas, are now the default level of 'casual'. Coincidentally, my only pair of 'casual' pants (jeans) died last week. Rather than replace them with yet another pair of denim trousers, I put my money where my mouth was and bought two pairs of nice slacks in a small corduroy instead.

I'm still trying to formulate properly my ideas on dress, casual/formal, stylish/fashionable, and the social implications thereof. I need to have it properly formulated before publishing, or the Angry Engineer and alt.milan will socratic-method me into another migraine (even though the AE agrees with me on this topic).

TV is being good to me this week. Castle has started up again, and the premiere was the usual snark-filled romp of unresolved sexual tension and unlikely epiphanies. It's not exactly demanding television, but it's quite enjoyable. Rather like Murder, She Wrote, which aside from sharing a premise, was equally undemanding and enjoyable.

I also caught the series premiere of The Forgotten. It's been a while since I've seen Christian Slater in anything, so it's nice to see him getting work again. I still have a soft spot for him from Heathers. It's a little hard to accept him as the altruist hero, though. Something about his voice is just too naturally sarcastic to make it believable. The voiceover from the dead person might get annoying if they keep it up in every episode, but it was interesting enough for me to want to see a few more episodes. Dollhouse is starting up again tonight as well and I'm looking forward to it.


We've got the new guy at work, who apparently used to work for my previous employer (although well before they started going down the tubes). We'll have to see how he works out.

What an exciting September it's been: we let someone go at work, meaning my schedule is probably going to change in a few months as we're also losing someone to maternity leave in February. There's been much rearranging Chez Poivre, and moving a 250 pound bookcase around is not as much fun as it sounds, let me tell you. The aforementioned friend from Montreal moved in last weekend (he is the only person in the entire world who doesn't work for Greyhound but still managed to take eight hours to drive to Toronto from Montreal, meaning he arrived at roughly 11 pm and then unpacking ensued). To top it all off was a night of drunken Socratic method-style discussion with alt.milan that started with a passing comment on Justin Trudeau and then wandered extensively, prior to a trip to Niagara-on-the-lake to visit Boyfriend's mother.

I am safely home again, post-D&D, and have just spent the last 40 minutes placating Needycat with wiggly bits of string. He gets extremely needy when I'm away.

Hi Ryan!

"We know smoking tobacco is not good for kids, but a lot of other things aren't good. Drinking's not good. Some would say milk's not good." - The unintentionally hilarious Bob Dole

The not-smoking thing has so far been reasonably successful. Thursday night I had quite a few (drinking + socialising with co-workers = 7 cigarettes), although considering my proven tendency to chain-smoke while drinking and the fact that all these cigarettes were had over the course of six hours instead of 90 minutes, it wasn't so bad. I also had one on Saturday night, after making a very nice dinner for Boyfriend and I (pork chops, breaded fried eggplant, and fettucine!). Dinner was great, and we were both feeling quite satisfied, and I blurted out "Y'know, a cigarette would be killer right now." Boyfriend has failed utterly at the quitting and had a pack on him, so I had one. It was, as predicted, killer.

It got me thinking though: what if, instead of following my pattern in every other quitting attempt and starting again in times of great stress, I save the occasional cigarette for the times when they enhance an already pleasant situation? Instead of dashing out in a moment of blind tech-support induced fury and buying a pack of cigarettes in order to keep from losing it at a user (which I have never done, by the way, although it's very tempting at times), I treat cigarettes as I would any other too-unhealthy-or-expensive-to-have-every-day delicacy, like cheesecake or Godiva chocolates. Boyfriend thinks this smacks of Stage 3 reasoning, which I feel is a little strong, but he might be right. I'll keep ruminating on it though. If I manage to break the habit, but keep the treat, that would be nice.
 

The 'About the Author' page on this blog describes me as politically inert, which is accurate - to a point. I tend not to follow Canadian politics (I also tend not to follow U.S. politics, but the body politic of the great Republic to the south thrashes about so loudly that one must struggle to avoid it; Canadian politics generally quietly fade into the background when not being looked at directly), about which fact I often feel guilty. It's not that I don't have political opinions. I am so opinionated it squelches out of every rhetorical orifice when some topics come up. But every time I feel I am insufficiently informed about the country's official business and set myself to finding out what's going on, the process quickly degenerates into feelings of depression, anger, frustration, and a tendency to shout things like "You idiots couldn't legislate your way out of a paper bag!" at the newspaper.

The other problem is that, despite my deep cynicism about politicians*, assorted forms of government**, available positions on the various political spectra***, and humanity in general****, I am essentially an idealistic optimist, who hates the idea of situational ethics even as I find myself forced to use them when arguing with the Angry Engineer (we disagree politically on almost every point, but he's an extremely logical and intelligent debater who forces me to think very hard before I start spouting off), who believes whole-heartedly in the democratic process even though I'm utterly convinced that most of the people I interact with should not be trusted to tie their shoes, never mind vote on national policy, and who really feels that most people will honestly just try to be the best, most competent people they can be, even though in my professional life over the last decade I've been repeatedly hit in the face with evidence to the contrary.

Watching the three-ring circus that is politics in any democratic country is dispiriting. The appeals to emotion, the playing on social fears, the irrelevant personal attacks, and all of it to distract from the fact that both sides are just as unlikely to give a damn about the issues once elected. The way that Parliament and Congress seem to pass or reject bills on the basis of whether or not it will irritate or injure the other parties rather than because they've actually considered the benefits of such an action to the people they represent. The tendency to bury things in increasingly tangled webs of committees rather than just doing something.

As someone who tends towards the practical, I believe that politicians should be getting on with the running of the country rather than all the campaigning that they actually do. But at the same time, I recognise that the only reason they can get away with it is that we let them, and we encourage it. We're not interested in hearing boring action outlines that might take years to show results, we want the exciting song-and-dance, and woe to the politician who can't be a Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire on the campaign trail. That's ultimately the worst aspect of trying to follow politics, watching the whole process be degraded and subverted and knowing that's what my country wants.

Being wrong hurts, and it's obvious that I am, in many ways, wrong about human nature, at least in the majority of people. The cynic knows things are corrupt and broken, and works within that system.  The naïf believes that the system works as intended, and fails because it doesn't. I've become the one in the middle, who watches it break down and steps back to avoid becoming entangled, which in its own way contributes to the problem.

I'm not even thinking of any incident or issue in particular (vide first paragraph, 'does not follow politics'), but I've been reading the archives at Positive Liberty, and feeling so shallow, because in addition to not being enough of a student of history or philosophy to follow Kuznicki's essays except in the most superficial way, I haven't even followed politics enough to know what he's analysing. His arguments are a pleasure to read even when his subject matter isn't; they're logical, and he's not afraid of passing some imaginary word count when brevity might detract from clarity.

Hiding my head in the figurative sand like an ostrich isn't a productive use of my intellect, so what do I do now?

* "Anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job." - Douglas Adams
** "It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried." - Winston Churchill
*** I am, according to various extremely scientific and nuanced tests found through 45 seconds of googling, somewhere between Nelson Mandela and the Dalai Lama, a Liberal Democrat, a Liberal, most compatible with the (American) Green Party, a Social Liberal, and a failed Canadian (a pass was 70%, I got 50%).
**** "The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter." - Winston Churchill again.

Holy crap, I'm tired.

Was out last night for a work event, and then the Angry Engineer and I carried on to our backup local watering hole for a few rounds (few = ~5). We ran into some Navy and RCR guys out on their own pub crawl, and the Angry Engineer, who is ex-military, was having a grand old time reminiscing and commiserating about bastard MPs. I got into a cab at roughly 1h00 and he was still going strong. I got home, set the coffee maker's auto-start for painfully early, threw my horribly uncomfortable slide heels into the darkest corner of my closet, and became one with the bed. Mmmm, bed.  

I'm honestly amazed that I managed to do the whole coffee maker thing, and then actually perform my nightly ablutions as required. I can be a bit flaky with things that need to be done every day. I mean, I'm not a total slob with regards to personal hygiene, but although I brush my teeth every morning, I may not brush them at night. I hardly ever floss. I rarely wear makeup, so washing it off at night isn't an ingrained habit. I complain about dry skin, but can never be bothered to actually moisturise regularly. And so on. While on my new regime of actually getting shit done, I thought, wouldn't it be wonderful if I could incorporate these little changes into my routine as well? It might not be earth shattering, but better skin and healthier gums might make me a little bit happier as a person. "But," she asked herself, "how will you make sure you actually do those things?" I've heard in the past that it takes three weeks to form a habit, so how do I get through those three weeks?

If you walk into my bathroom today, you'll see a large sticky note attached to the mirror. It has two columns on it, A.M. and P.M. Each column has all the things I should be doing in the bathroom at that time of day, in the order they should be done. It's sad, I know, that I need to actually make a list that says things like "Shower. Moisturise. Brush teeth. Mouthwash. Lip balm.", but my efforts to just make myself remember things don't work out so well.

I have a bigger list too, involving all the things that need to be done around the apartment day-to-day. Cleaning the litter boxes and sweeping are on there every day, of course (when the ex-husband and I lived together, occasionally weeks would go by between box cleanings. It was revolting). Mopping is every other day, cleaning the bathroom is once a week. I really wonder sometimes what crucial development stage I missed out on that didn't let me pick up these basic household maintenance skills until age 27.

Although I've wandered somewhat from my premise statement, the basic idea was that even though I was tired and my feet were killing me and I'd had quite a bit to drink, I still managed to floss and wash off my makeup before going to bed last night.

Little victories, right?

Felicity is not finished. I woke up on Friday with an epiphany regarding that bloody hat: I'd accidentally skipped the last round of increases and now need to rip back eight rows. Which I should have done right away, but didn't, and we'll talk about why in a bit.

One of the reasons the ex-husband and I did not work out is because we brought out the worst in each other's personal habits. I have a tendency towards slobbiness, he has the strange male blindness to dirt. We both have hoarding issues ("NO, we cannot throw out the five fishing rods, I might go fishing again one day."), and our three bedroom, three story townhouse - which should have been more than big enough for a family of four or five - felt cramped and unhappy. I struggled to clean up, but aside from the occasional emergency (my family coming to visit, the landlord coming by), I was doing it on my own. Ex-husband would do things as instructed, but would never of his own accord actually clean anything, including a dish. I, being one of those people who has difficulty concentrating in a cluttered space, would start try to clean and organise, but in a very stressed and distracted way. Tears were common. It got to the point where I was coming up with excuses not to come home at night, because I hated the way I felt when I was in our house.

So, fast-forward several months. When I moved into my own apartment (on my own for the first time ever!), I threw out a lot of stuff. Probably an entire box truck's worth. It was incredibly hard and I cried a lot while it was being done. It didn't appear to make much of a dent, since the apartment is still kind of cluttered, but I'm working on it.  I made the decision last week to put some of my books into storage (I will never be able to bring myself to get rid of books, but storage I can handle), and trade my huge recliner couch for a smaller model. It's a start, and I feel good about it.

Even better is the list I made. It's got entries for the next four or five weekends: things to do. It culminates in my apartment getting painted. I'm pretty much on schedule with it right now, and it's already made an improvement. This week's tasks were to measure all the furniture to decide how to rearrange it for cosy spacing, removing the garbage that was stored on the balcony for convenience (old air conditioner, broken picture frame, plus the balcony's evil green astro-turf carpet), clean out the bottom of the china cabinet (still stuffed full of miscellanea from moving), and clean out this big white cabinet (also stuffed full of miscellanea from moving) which I'm probably going to have to get rid of because I've got no place to hang it.  Items one, two, and three are done (two by the good offices of Boyfriend, who cleared the whole balcony in less than 15 minutes, including pulling up the evil carpet and sweeping it all off), and in cleaning out the china cabinet I was able to pack away all my cds and various computer peripherals and extraneous electronics. Freed up a lot of bookshelf and table area. I also decluttered the crap out of my desk. Next week when I rearrange the living room I'll also need to re-organise all my computer cables, but at least the surfaces are clear.

I'm also into day two of not smoking, and I recognise the twitchy, irritableness that's making me touchier than usual (I'm generally pretty irritable to begin with), so Felicity will wait until that fades. I was originally going to leave her until I'd finished my to-do list, but job-things delayed that, and now I don't want to be trying to do something so delicate when anything even whiffing of going wrong will make me freak out. I'll cast on for the scarf I wanted to do to match instead. It's knit on straights instead of in the round, so will be much less frustrating (she said, blithely. Murphy looked on in deep amusement.).

The other things keeping me from blogging this week are a bunch of work-related things, a series of nagging infections (the kind of fun infections that can, in a woman's life, spring up for no reason whatsoever. I used to think male genitalia were less well-designed than female. I now think both of them are bad jokes), and a visit from a dear friend who was in town to find an apartment this weekend. Yet another Montreal ex-pat to keep me sane. He'll be driving up with all his stuff in two weeks, and I'm very much looking forward to having him around again.

Felicity is knitting up extremely quickly -- or it would be if I hadn't misread the pattern and put one round of stockinette in between the increases instead of two. Luckily I'd only knit two rounds worth of increases so tinking wass not all that painful. I've now got through the increases and second stretch of stockinette, and finished the first round of decreases. The hat might be done tomorrow night, which would be awesome.

A new air conditioner entered my apartment last night, thoughtfully installed by boyfriend, so I am actually looking forward to getting home after work tomorrow. Aside from that, not much of interest happened today; I spent most of it watching the GTA storm warnings and dealing with a nagging infection. Hurrah for norfloxacin.

Hello, morning coffee!

After the disgusting humidity of yesterday (which is still going on today), I announced that I was staying at Boyfriend's condo last night. His condo is heavily air-conditioned, which is a vast relief in this weather, and lacks cats, which is a vast relief when I'm trying to knit something involving some very plush yarn and multiple twitching sticks.

We sat down on the couch to watch Coraline, and I spent most of the movie with one of the skeins of Malabrigo stretched over my knees to make a ball. The ball is very nice, but my shoulder was aching by the time I finished. Since all of the yarn I bought yesterday is in skeins, I may have to invest in a ball-winder or change my name to She of the freaky Popeye shoulder.

First ball wound is cast on for Wanett Clyde's Felicity hat. I tend to be a tight knitter, and have a giant head (24" circumference - I've never met a baseball cap that actually fit), so I added ten stitches and went up to size 7 and 9 dpns, instead of 5 and 7. I have it spread out on three dpns right now, but realised this morning that 80 is in fact divisible by 4. Who knew? When the time comes in the pattern to switch to the bigger needles I'll shuffle the stitches around and work in the fourth needle. I considered going ahead and doing it now, but decided it would be too much hassle only to have to do it again when the size change happens. Once I've reclaimed my 7s (hopefully this afternoon), I'll be able to cast on for Boyfriend's scarf. Although none of the scarf yarn has been balled yet, so I may have to coddle him into to helping me with that when he gets home from work.

Random fact of the day*: Although the FedEx corporate logo is purple and grey**, the logos on the trucks and so on has the 'Ex' in a different colour, indicating which division it belongs to (Ground, Express, Freight, Office, etc.). Nifty.

I have some ruminations on Kensington Market that need to be written out, but I'm still not sure exactly how I feel about it, so I'll let them roll around in my head a little longer. Maybe this evening.

*I actually learned this a while ago, but was reminded of it when I took my coffee out on the balcony. There was a FedEx truck across the street.
**I know it used to be purple and orange. The orange 'Ex' is the Express division now.

One of the things that I hate about living in eastern Canada is the horrifyingly humid summers. According to MeteoMedia, it's currently 29 degrees in Toronto, with a humidex of 38 degrees (that's 84 and 100 F, respectively, for any Americans in the audience). The strong breeze coming off the Lake is mitigating the problems somewhat, but I'm still melting here. Adding to the problem is my air conditioner, a venerable Goldstar R-5000A. It was acquired second-hand, so I have no idea exactly how old it is. A quick look at Goldstar's website indicates that they haven't updated since 2007, and at that point had already stopped making anything less powerful than a 5050 BTU model, so I'm guessing at least 5 years old.

After 3 years and two moves with me and who-knows-how-many before it entered my possession, my air conditioner has finally given up the ghost. It still sort of cools, but even on the highest settings doesn't make a dent in this heat. It also makes alarming clunking sounds and spits ice every so often, even when I leave it on the fan-only setting. I'm more concerned about the cats than myself, since I can go sit in the shower for a while if things get too ridiculous, but those lovely furry coats they're wearing are sadly not removable*.

I did finally manage to make it to Lettuce Knit this morning. That place is tiny, but I believe I have fallen in love with it. I left with sock-length dpns for that sock that's been making me nuts, and some US#9 straights and DPNs to go with the three skeins of Malabrigo worsted merino in the Little Lovely variegated colourway. That's my hat and scarf this winter, kids. I may see if I can pick up some leather gloves to match once the winter clothes start hitting shops. Also, 3 skeins each of Berroco Lustra in Aioli and Brulée for Boyfriend's Fibonacci scarf. The two colours look incredibly yummy sitting against each other and the yarn is smooth and shiny. It's another merino. In fact, now that I think about it, all the yarn I have stashed right now is merino. I guess I've found my favourite fibre.

I wonder what GTA by-laws say about raising a sheep on one's balcony?

* Although that's mostly a good thing. Hairless cats creep me out and look non-cuddly.