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Archive for February, 2013

Warrants of Salacia

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symbiosis

I gave up Facebook for Lent and in the wake of that afternoon′s Wall announcement I gleaned myself 150+ new blog readers in a matter of hours.

We all seek a supply of stimulation and hold unique thresholds of curiosity. Thanks for allowing me to satisfy.

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Classic Facebookian Look At Me/Don′t Look At Me But Look Anyway Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please:



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The Sweetest Man

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Red Blur

A new week begins
Albeit one day later
Eminent weekend

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

Monday

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End of the Road

It’s just been confirmed that the Honda is at the end of the road. I’ve cried so much this week. It really is possible to grow very attached to a car. I’ve been TTC-ing around the city and it’s fine. I don’t miss the use of the car as much as I thought I would…but I miss the car itself. I am more upset than after most of my relationship breakups. It never let me down…even at the end, it brought me back to my parking spot before breathing its last breath. I loved its sturdy structure, the power of the engine, the sounds and shakes that showed its age, the way that it was not perfect and pristine. It was heartbreaking to hear it struggle and heave as it took its final drive down Spadina. My Honda was broken and battered and scratched…but it was not weak. I knew that there was something wrong. It had survived 15 years: multiple Ottawa winters, a Montreal winter and Montreal’s steep terrain, and finally, multiple journeys to Toronto. It was with me from broken, unhealthy person until now. As a celebration of its life, I bought chlorella powder for my smoothies and rosehip oil for my night-time moisturizer. It was one of my greatest supporters into getting to where I am now and it helped me to develop healthy habits that are part of my everyday routine. I’ll never forget that. I am going to donate the proceeds to the Annex Cat Rescue.

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Wartime Valentine

My Mum keeps a collection of WWI postcards which once belonged to various family members.
Here are three of the lot, all to do with love and longing:

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caption me: drawings past

Belly bloated from seaweed and agar-agar, she trumpets out into the night.
Will anyone hear her?

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