In which it rains and the old men are snoring...
but obviously not me because I'm not that old yet although there are advantages - why I would get an extra 1.50 off the ticket at Pacific Cinematheque. Why I might even get a discount on transit tickets although there're rumours that they're going to move the age for seniors up in which case I'd be SOL again.
Leetle Feeshies. I need some feeshies in my life to nourish my
This weekend I paid for things in cash. It was terrifying not knowing what to do with all that change. Especially when merchants pushed pennies onto me because pennies are being phased out, and I don't want to be stuck with them when they are finally pushed out of the door.
The Marigold Exotic Hotel for the Elderly and Beautiful was seen this weekend. A tour de force for an amazing bevy of Brit actors including Judi Dench and Maggie Smith. The men were pretty good too. At first glance the story line is quite stereotypical and predictable, but the acting raised everything to a level that is seldom seen. Much not-so-gentle irony as well and the occasional back-handed verbal slap. A fine example came when one of the company, a right snob and aspirer to higher social circles, was bragging about her marriage and how she just didn't know how to mark it, at which point another of the company suggested that, perhaps, she should mark it with a minute of silence... whereupon a most awkward silence fell.
Then there was Des Vents Contraires with that Tataou lady who had maybe 25 lines in the film She was given top billing but the story was really about Benoît Magimel as he tries to regain equilibrium after the Tataou lady disappears. Honestly if the things that happened to Paul happens to me I'd take up smoking too and teach people how to drive as well. So fortunate I'm not married to a doctor who works late nights.
It rained greatly this weekend. So much so that I feared for the seedlings out on the patio. As feared some drowned, and some I threw out for failure to thrive. These failures were replaced with seedlings of green Japanese-like maple seedlings that I found in front of some building with a pretty tree. In the shadow of the rain, I dug deep with my teaspoon, pulled out a bunch, dumped them in my empty yoghurt container and ran home and put them in the holes that once held the failed seedlings.
I can be ruthless when it suits me. Not for nothing do I have the blood of G. Khan swirling through my veins.
Then I found four more Datura seeds and planted them. I shall be able to offer annoying guests hemlock type tea yet. Relax at the doses I'll give, their hearts will pitter-patter a little bit faster, that's all.
Software should make your life easier, or at least this is what they purport to do. Unfortunately this isn't always the case and then your life becomes more difficult. This is annoying to say the least. Fortunately it happened on the Friday of a long weekend so I shut down the computer and went home, but only after going to the Waldorf to sup with the S, S and S's mother, following which we attended a show headlined by Charles Demmers who reminds me of some other Canadian comedian, but I forget who, or perhaps it was one of Marge's characters.
Saturday it was sunny and I went to the (not my words, but MS's) Castle on the top of the hill and looked down at my fiefdom. It was entertaining to say the least, for my subjects shall love and fear me, and the winds and oceans will do my bidding etc etc etc.
I feel privileged because I was told that I will be one of three who have been given a water line onto the verandah. The other two are GA and the 'nice Japanese lady'. I was also told that I had to curb my obscenities to which I say, "ppptttthhh!"
In any case, the die is cast. The money swept off the table, the bet laid, the gamble taken. If all goes well, there will be green, pink and white (the colours of what flag?) in my future. As I told Dr. C, I shall have to look at paint samples now since it took me three years to choose "Big Sky" the last time I painted. To Big M, I said that I will have to buy copious amounts of oven cleaner over the summer.
I suspect that the J and A have left the apartment or have given up on their green thumbs for there has been a suspicious lack of activity recently on the deck - which is a bit of a relief as most of the activity consisted of A bending over in low-slung jeans to plant watery lettuce. They may have left their big pots behind in that case. In which case, they'll leave in due course for the castle on the hill. Of course I can't be expected to lift them while filled with soil can I? So I've been helping myself to the soil for my seedlings.
I've not, however, taken on J's advice for getting plants to grow - that is to say, water your plants with a 10% solution of your pee. According to J, this makes the leaves big and green. What he doesn't realise is that your pee is mostly a source of nitrogen for the leaves so you'll get big green leaves, but very little flowering. The leaves in turn will attract aphids and your plants will then become all sticky and die. And once dead, they won't metabolize your pee which will then collect and finally your pots, containers and surrounding area will smell like Soho early on a Sunday morning. Poor J, he has much to learn but I'm all for learning by experience so won't bother to tell him until it gets to the point where I can say with smug satisfaction, "I could have told you that..."
Last night there was a dinner to plan an upcoming trip to Nelson and areas South of it. This could be interesting for many reasons. Too many and too personal to be delineated here. I foresee potential entanglements and it will behoove me to step aside and watch how the knots are tied so that I can step in later with Damocles' sword to cut the Gordian Knot. I love being classical. it makes me feel worthy of having fiefdoms, and having the wind and oceans do my bidding. It's no wonder I get along so well with Dr. C, he's Greek after all and knows of the winds and oceans being made to do another's bidding, not to mention D's sword and G's knots.