A bit of a chill filtered down from the north today as we enjoyed a taste of the eight-month horror we know as fall-winter-spring. It's under 20 at the peak of the day (gasp!) for the first time since probably May and is cloudy with scattered misty showers, and it's really harshing my buzz, man. Of course, this could be from the letter I got from the government this afternoon asking me to submit evidence of the transit passes I claimed on my last tax return, or even just the fact that I'm spending the day tomorrow saying goodbye to my boss, who passed away last week. What does one wear to a funeral in the summer?

I've been busy since I got home from B.C. getting reacquainted with my old friend Adam Carolla. I stopped listening to him on a regular basis when he got his own show, so this has been a welcome reunion. That said, it's given me next to no time for reading or even listening to music. Which also makes me sad, because I like to read books and listen to music. But Adam's crazy funny, so what's a girl to do?

My brain hurts.

I need to eat.

In honour of Jana's new blog, I want to present a little exercise we worked on late last week. See, Jana and I write copy together for work, and it's always a struggle for me to talk her out of her thousand-and-one adjectives and adverbs. So, last week, I gave up and let her go wild.

The first sentence is my original quote, and the second is what she did with it. I must say that her work is impressive.

"Tensions abound in this political thriller."

"Excruciating tension seethes and coils in a miasma of blood-curdling neo-realism in this searing saga of political intrigue and family passions."

"There are detours along the road to love."

"The cruel shards of pebbles along life’s winding path pierces the tumescent heart of our unforgettable hero as he stumbles unwittingly towards his predestined appointment with love."

"His eyes looked upon her with tenderness."

"The piercing black coals of his eyes softened as they gazed upon her own limpid pools into which he longed to drown forever."

"The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog."

"The pink fingers of dawn crept over the pearlescent sky as the fleet-footed fox leapt in a single, glorious bound over the somnolent form of the toothless—yet still endearingly ferocious—hound."

Jana gave me this: "Come to laugh. Come to cry. Come to terms." All I could come up with was this: "Life sucks sometimes." Jana turned it around and gave me this: "Life—the brief glimmer of light, caught between the dark, glowering cliffs of non-existence—can—as quoted by a most fortunate, long-eared quadruped—suck donkeys."

Man, she's good.

I have been such a terrible correspondent lately. It’s not that I love my entertainment any less, it’s just been a busy time for me, both personally and creatively. Family sorrow marked the holidays (read my Robert Altman tribute and you’ll probably get the gist of it). That was followed by my annual Major Work Project during the day, and my Brand New Love of Acrylic Paint/Awesome Rebel SLR Digital Experimentation at night. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even had a chance to play with my new pen-as-mouse pad I got so I can start animating things in Flash.

I’m feeling very artistic right now, which I haven’t in years. I can directly correlate my downturn in creative art to my increased involvement in writing, so it makes sense that my writing is suffering as I rediscover how to hold a paint brush. I will endeavour to keep up a bit more, though, as I have seen and heard a great many things in the last couple months that are worth writing about.

Let’s start with Babel. My neighbour C and I went to see it New Year's Eve, and by the end of the movie I wanted to kill myself. What a downer! I thought the editing and acting were fantastic, but the story was just one giant buzzkill. I am willing to accept that (spoilers ahoy!) a couple could lose a child to SIDS, then decide to go to Morocco to get over that loss (even though the wife hates germs and filth of any kind. Maybe all the flights to Paris were booked?), then get shot by some kids playing a prank. It doesn’t happen all the time, but at least it’s not inconceivable. But that that same couple’s young children would be taken to Mexico, then driven home by a drunk who hates authority, and abandoned in the desert to fend for themselves? Come on. That’s a lot to swallow—too much to make the story believable.

Of course, I saw The Holiday a couple of weeks ago and really liked it. So perhaps my opinions shouldn’t weigh all that strongly.

I’m watching: Deadwood. Hoo, doggy, am I in love with this show! History Television has been running this series uncut since the fall, and I PVR’d it this last go-round. Why did nobody tell me that Timothy Olypant was in this series? I love Timothy Olypant! Also, Trixie and Sol rock my world.

I’m listening to: Good lordy, what aren’t I listening to? I’ve been on a bit of a folk run lately, as I gear up for my trip to Scotland in the spring. So, a little kilt-and-bonnet action (I finally know the tune to Johnny Cope), mixed in with some bluegrassy-folk like Gillian Welch and Abigail Washburn, and some UK folk like Cara Dillon. I also picked up the new Arcade Fire album this morning (shhh! . . .) Maybe with this album, I’ll finally understand what all the hype is about.

Twice a week, twice a month, what's the dif? I've been almost completely incommunicado for the last month or so (just ask Elena), but it's not because I've been in a coma or because atomic supermen have captured me and made me their sex slave. No, it's because I'm tired, and it's fall, and have I mentioned that I'm tired?

If you want to know what I've been up to instead of blogging, I now present you my Top 10 List of Things I've Been Doing Instead of Blogging:

1. Working like a dog (natch).

2. Having three colds in three weeks, that cumulated in laryngitis and a lung infection. Nummers.

3. Writing a "tandem tale" with my friend Jana. I start, then write a few paragraphs and send it off to her to write a few paragraphs. We're about 15 pages in. Our story is called The Mole Men of the Tin Mines (and the Women Who Love Them). It's a Hallowe'en tale with witches and possibly ghosts that bears no resemblance at all to its title.

4. Re-re-re-reading Charlaine Harris's Southern Vampire books (Hey, it's Hallowe'en!), and discovering that the Alan Ball series is called True Blood and starts production this winter.

5. Listening to a lot of new music, including the Gravenhurst song "See My Friends," which I've been digging on since Beaver jumped off the hotel roof to it in May. I'm also listening to the latest CD from a band whose latest CD isn't due out until 2007.

6. Compiling my Best Of 2006 CD for our end-of-year Music Club meeting, taking place once again at my house. It's a strangely male mix this year (I'm known in the group for listening almost exclusively to female artists), and includes a song from the latest CD from a band whose latest CD isn't due out until 2007.

7. Loving the hell out of Ugly Betty and Heroes.

8. Ignoring every other new drama on the fall schedule, including Studio 60 and Six Degrees, both of which I taped for several weeks before I decided to delete them without watching.

9. Rejoicing that Scrubs is joining The Office on Thursday nights.

10. Watching The Robinsons on BBC Canada based solely on this clip.

And what have you been up to?

Since I haven't had a chance to watch any new shows except Ugly Betty (which is fabulous, by the way), I will now give you my thoughts on my returning series. Let's go:

• Survivor: Mmm . . . Yul. . . .
• My Name is Earl: It's been downgraded to a "I'll waitch it on the weekend, if I have time" show.
• The Office: I couldn't love this show more if I'd given birth to it and suckled it at my very own breast.
• Gilmore Girls: The premiere seemed a little forced, but last night's episode was really, really good.
• How I Met Your Mother: Aly's hair looks smokin!
• Everybody Hates Chris: I love the parents so much more than the kids.
• Veronica Mars: Rest in peace, Kendall.

I'm watching: Documentaries by the score. I watched Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, which, despite its rather flashy website, is an amazing look at the rise and fall of one of the United States' biggest success stories from the energy deregulation of the '80s and '90s. What they did to California alone, making money off the backs of the consumers by causing the energy crises in the early 2000s—and pretty much ruining Gray Davis's political career—should have made the world stand up and take notice. Yet before I watched this documentary, I knew basically nothing about how crooked they were. It's amazing what can get buried in the wake of 9/11.

Which leads me to my other documentary: The Falling Man, the story of the people who jumped off the World Trade Centre towers during 9/11. I remember hearing about the jumpers during the morning of the attacks, but not so much since then. According to this documentary, there was a reason for that: they're the deaths America doesn't want to talk about. Suicide? Well, that's not very noble. Except that if I had a choice between burning to death or suffocating, or plunging off a 105-storey tower, I know what I'd do. And fuck the people who said I'd taken the easy way out.

So I’m sitting here in the Regina airport on a three-and-a-half hour layover (on my way to Calgary for another layover before I finally make it to Cranbrook, B.C. in about seven hours). My dad, a frequent flyer, gave me two passes to the first-class lounge, but apparently that lounge is locked. Ah well. With only six gates, it was relatively easy to find an empty lounge area. I have my own remote, and I found a power outlet to recharge my computer, so I’m sprawled out on a couch watching All My Children and pecking away at this blog entry.

It looks like I’m going to get to watch all my old soaps today! Let’s see who’s had the worst plastic surgery!

There is supposed to be a high-speed area here, but I’m pretty cozy in my very own lounge, so I think I’ll try to find something in Calgary.

I’m listening to: I went crazy at HMV and Best Buy last week, picking up Zero 7’s The Garden (pardon the lack of links, but see above), Bitter:Sweet’s self-titled album, Muse’s Black Holes and Revelations, Greg Graffin’s Cold as the Clay and Sufjan Stevens’ The Avalanche. And I love each and every one of them.

I’m reading: I picked up a couple of books for my vacation. I’m starting with Nicole Galland’s The Fool’s Tale, a medieval Welsh story. I hope it’s good!

I’m watching: I found out how to upload shows from my Replay to my laptop, so I grabbed a few movies to bring on my trip. I watched Serenity on my Toronto to Regina flight. My laptop died after that, so I wasn’t able to watch anything else. Perhaps I’ll try Spiderman 2 on the next flight.

Man, commercials are funny! I had no idea until just this moment that Kosher beef excludes everything that comes off the cow below the waist. How very strange. . . .

Update: I’m sitting in the first-class lounge in Calgary. Finally able to get on the wi-fi, yet I can’t seem to get my Messenger working. How strange. Also, I'm 57 pages into my book. So far so good!

My friend Carly asked me to do a blog entry for her while she plugs away at her latest book. Here is the result. (And yes, that's my red toaster, my most beloved appliance.)

I have to say, this is going to go down as one of the worst months for updating my blog.

While I'm rocking on the weather, which has managed to get my condo above 20 degrees for the first time since September 2005, I am not happy with how much I've worked this month. I have been in at least one day every weekend, and this coming weekend I will be working both days from 9 to 5. Yummy. At least I have a week-long vacation starting in nine days. Then I can get reacquainted with my old friend MediaHoard.

I'm listening to: A whole bunch of new stuff; most notably Camera Obscura's Let's Get Out of This Country and Gotan Project's Lunático.

I had a party the weekend before last. A couple friends came into town and ran an evening 5k race, and then I made them dinner. I put together quite an extensive soundtrack for the evening. I love introducing people to new music, and it was such a subtle way to do it, over drinks and dinner. I didn't have to go all fan-girl on anyone.

I'm reading: I finished reading MaryJanice Davidson's latest Undead book, Undead and Unpopular. It was cute, as usual. I read it in an evening, as usual, and I spent way too much money on the hardcover, as usual.

I'm watching: E at work lent me the first two seasons of Scrubs on DVD, so pretty much just that. When I haven't been at work, I've been watching JD and the gang. It's probably why I haven't updated my blog in more than two weeks.

Hmm. . . .

Well, I never thought I'd do it, but one year and 137 posts later, I'm still going strong. Good on me.

I should be getting wasted right this second, slugging drink after drink of vodka and cranberry at my cousin’s stag and doe. Instead, thanks to a huge storm that’s sweeping eastern Canada, I’m sitting at home on Saturday night, sober as a church mouse. Ah well. Maybe I should start drinking alone.

I’m reading: Ever so many things! Earlier this week I read Bernard Cornwell’s Gallow’s Thief, a historical mystery about a painter accused of a countess’s murder. It was okay, but a little predictable. Then I picked up Reay Tannahill’s Passing Glory a Scots historical novel that spans the 50 years between Queen Victoria’s death and Queen Elizabeth’s coronation. First published in 1989, it tells the story of the Britton family as they fall in and out of love, live and die through two world wars, and struggle to keep afloat during labour strikes and recessions.

I love sprawling, hundreds-of-pages-long sagas where you need to look at a family tree to keep all the players straight. It’s so great to experience someone going from a gawky young girl of 11, to a lover, wife and mother, and eventually to a matriarch with a large family of her own. And Reay Tannahill’s books don’t fell overly melodramatic—nobody’s getting raped and kidnapped and left for dead. They’re just living their lives and making horrible decisions and accepting the consequences. I think it’s neat to see how people lived in other times; how they spent their time. It must be why Gosford Park is one of my favourite movies ever. Well, that and Clive Owen. Mmm.

I’m watching: Firefly, still. I have two episodes to go. It’s pretty neat. Also Survivor, which started this week. I can’t wait for Amazing Race to start. It seems like forever since that show’s been on.

I’m listening to: Also ever so many things. I picked up Amelia’s Por Avion a few weeks ago, and it’s been on pretty constant rotation. It’s a live album, and quite lovely. I’ve also been spending a lot of time listening to The Decemberists in the last week or so. They’re so my male Rasputina! And I’m digging on Wolf Parade’s Apologies to the Queen Mary when I’m not listening to the above two artists.

There's something special about a Sunday afternoon spent lying on the couch under a blanket. I'm up against a monster deadline at work, so I've spent nearly every waking hour for the last week in front of my computer. Because of this, I've been listening to a lot of music. TV doesn't lend itself to computer work, unless it's old episodes of The Simpsons or hoour-long episodes of House Doctor, Designs for Living, season two of The Block or Flip This House. Too much time is spent watching the TV and not enough work gets done.

I spent time with my Music Club mates last night, and we got to talking about—what else?—music. My tastes have changed so much since last year. Where last year at this time I was listening to Rasputina and the Distillers and angry girls with lots of instrumentation, this year it's all about folk music. Brendan Benson is still #1 on my playlist these days, and Sufjan Stevens is making a comeback as well. Sh at work has The Magic Numbers' album and I'm really digging on it too.

Wow, this entry has even less of a point than I thought it would. Awesome!

I'm watching: I Capture the Castle. Goddamn, I dig that movie. I love me some Romola Garai.
 
I'm listening to: Lamb, Between Darkness and Wonder. Something about I Capture the Castle always reminds me of the song Angelica from this album. So proper for a November evening spent stuck sitting in front of a computer.
 
I'm reading: Shockingly (not really), nothing. I couldn't get into Jonathan Strange, so that's been scrapped. Maybe it's time to try some more Reay Tannahill. I love stories about everyday families that involve sweeping and complicated situations. And, also, sex.