The more you know.

Boo and Darren came for a visit a few weeks ago. It was a trying couple of days, and we learned many hard lessons.

Like, it is difficult to see a statue of Terry Fox and not make fun of him just a little bit even though you know he did great things and was a warrior etc etc etc, because he always looks a bit...off. No? Or, like, it is difficult to understand signs sometimes. What exactly about this is wrong?

Or, it is difficult to see a pirate-y ship and not go over to investigate, and having investigated, not to make incessant 'arrrrrrrr' sounds and keep 'avast'ing each other. Also, it is difficult (unless you are facing the camera directly, as Exhibit Boo) to make your shin look like it has vanished and like you are in fact peg-legged. Instead, you will just look storky (see: Exhibit Me).

Also, it is difficult to fit entirely behind a pole. They are not precisely body-shaped.

Also, it is difficult to put one over on the bunns. They know when you have food you're not sharing.

Also, it is difficult (when the bunns are under your sway) not to try to make them do tricks...

Or to lure them into your lap...

Or to try to please every bunn at once.

Also, it is difficult to make fake-hair look like real-hair. Even improbable chest hair.

Also, it is difficult to stand near my sister without snorgling her.

For boo and Gillian

Campus looks for all the world like someone has taken a basket of baby bunns and heaved it onto the grasses.

Come visit, won't you?

I have no connected thoughts

THIS is why Up was so awesome and Monsters vs. Aliens was only so-so.

Also, I can't stop buying cherries and then eating half of them on the way home, but I'm totally freaked out by the thought that someone might see me spit out the pits, so I hoard them all up in my cheeks until I'm near a hedge and NO ONE is around, but this happens less often than you'd think and frequently I'm not sure what in my mouth I should and should not be swallowing.

Also, I am perfectly capable of dressing myself cutely in the winter, but somehow when it rains in the summer I'm all Do I own boots? Where are all my coats? And what of long-sleeved shirts!?!? And then end up leaving the house in a hoodie and a cap.

An exhuberance of photos! A dismal formatting fail!

Due to some sort of karmic face-slapping, both my birthday and our anniversary fall smack in the middle of PAPERSFINALSTHESKYISFALLING!!! So we celebrate these things in the summer when all the madness is over.

And even though we are po-po, we usually try to get at least an hour away from where we are currently living for el aniversary. This year we left it til the very last minute so that all non-organ-harvesty B&Bs were booked up and we ended up snagging a hotel room in nearby Sooke. Except that while the address of the hotel was in Sooke, the hotel itself was in downtown Victoria.

So we hopped in the car Friday evening and drove a whopping 20 minutes. Getting away from it all! It was probably for the best, though, because we haven't really had a chance to explore Victoria since we moved here SIX MONTHS AGO!

We pretty well spent two and a half days tramping around the city, somewhat hampered by Victoria's abundance of statues and our complete inability to walk by a statue without trying to look like it.
This is tricky when the statue is A.) very high up and B.) holding something that you are not holding (i.e. a sceptre or a gun).It becomes extra-extra difficult when the guy is just STANDING there.Slightly more successful...The old 'stare into middle distance'This inability to walk by a thing and not try to imitate it goes double for animal exhibits where we aren't supposed to be taking photos at alland triple for old-timey posters of Hitler...where we aren't supposed to be taking photos.

Because we have plenty of visitors coming over this summer we had to do a fair bit of 'field research' (read: eating tasty treats in new and exciting places).
It has been a dream of mine to eat one of these ocean-side waffles ever since Robyn came over in April and we walked by the waffle guy. So, maybe less of a Life Dream and maybe more of a Goal for This Year.

Do not think, because of the eating, that we are filthy swimming rich or have forgotten our frugal Mennonite heritage. We totally brought a whack of food from home but we are robust eaters, Joel and I, and there is something about stomping all over the city that says 'Eat a chimichanga the size of your head!'


Lessee, what am I forgetting. Oh yes, the street performers. Seriously, the third of Victoria's population that is neither a college student nor an retiree is a street performer.

Painfully unfunny and aggressively-money-grabby street acrobats that I hated so much I didn't even photograph? Check.

Man-stealing brass statuette from the other day? Check.

Air-brushers, caricaturists, and other on-the-spot artists? Check.

Fire-juggling unicyclist? Check.
Opera singers? Er...check. Buskers dressed inexplicably like lobsters? Checccccccccck!

Darth Vader playing the violin? Victoria, you so crazy. But yes, check.

So...it wasn't like last year when we went to Mexico for two months, or even like two years ago where we actually got out of the city, but it was cozy and relaxing and exhausting all at once.

Happy two years, two months, one week and six days, baby.

All times are for relaxing.

Friends! Who would have thought that time off would be so busy!?!? I have not got a single one of the useful, productive things done that I meant to get done, and Joel and I are skipping town tonight which means that nothing will get done this weekend.

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Because there are things to do, and those things are called Canada Day, and Canada Day in our province's capital is full of entertainments. Like unexpected peacocks.

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Or unexpected lizards.

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Or unexpected fountains.

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Or thieving crows. This happy bastard was rooting through that lady's purse before she came to shooo him.

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Also there are brass statues.

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Brass, husband-stealing, home-wrecking statues.

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Mile Zero is ever-present.
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As is this incredibly de-motivating sign.

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And dice. Giant dice will never lose their appeal.

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And then we lay on the grass and waited for the fireworks to start and hated on the teenagers and cheered when the cops came by to move them along and groused like old people when they came right back. Bonne fete, nation.

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A summary, of sorts

You will have to excuse me for not blogging. I have discovered Twitter and cannot be torn away.

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Before I fell into the twittersphere, I had what they call in the business a 'full weekend,' wherein I wrote a final on Friday evening and then booked it to the ferry and rolled into Burnaby to see my family, and receive generous gifts. The sandals are from my mom. As are the bunions.

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Then we got up at 6:00 to drive to Chilliwack to have breakfast with two of Joel's friends, napped hard at the Kruegers' due to 6:00 a.m. wake-up call, watched two become one (by which I mean, went to a wedding) and then partied hard, had brunch the next morning with friends, went to church with more friends and then had lunch with our old landlords and this tiny nugget of personhood...

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who has become this rambunctious thing.

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Now I have a week off of school, and many exciting plans such as take in some of Joel's shirts that don't fit him, have a few needles stuck in my neck, pit and freeze many pounds of cherries (also, give myself the squirts even though I am an adult and should know better), and register for classes.

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Oh yes, and twitter like mad, because it's like a giant internet party in there.

Koala-kins finds twins

Ok, remember that time boo photoshopped the two of us together into an aquatic nightmare, and then added Robyn to the pile?
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So, I found this photo on CuteOverload and was all SYNCHRONIZED KOALA-FACES and promptly forwarded it to everyone, because I am that person.

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Abuhhhhhhhhhh.

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And then dad was all, Why has bekah not photoshopped Koala into this photo yet, and Robyn was all, Seriously, why? And because my sister is the best one:

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Abuhhhhhhhhhh for everyone.

You will get a real post from me when this Spanish hell is over.

If you're wondering what I've been doing while I haven't been posting, I am slowly being eaten alive by Spanish and I went vacationing last weekend and I've been up to my usual hi-jinks over at backofthebook.

I am a mcseamstress!

Friends! It is June! When did that happen?

Joel has been locked in a windowless room for the past few weeks with nothing to keep him company but THIS:

Those are his notes from one block. He has eight (ish?) more like it. I will never be a doctor.

As for me, I mostly sit on the deck. I sit on the deck and read Victorian novels. I sit on the deck and brush up on my espanish. I sit on the deck and I fix shirts. Remember that shirt that I bought three of that one time? In black and blue and this orangey-red that looks good with literally all of my skirts? Because they was on the cheap? Turns out the reason they were selling 3-for-$15 was because the back was too open and the sleeves didn't stay up, making me look like a slutty milk maid. (poorly-framed auto-timer photos to follow)

This...is not a good look for me.

Fortunately, they have these ghey little straps that are supposed to...tie around your waist? Loop over your neck? H'whatever, they have them.

Un- and re-attached, the straps make excellent back-straps. Hey presto, the shirt works!

So now instead of three shirts I regret buying, I have three shirts that I will wear all the time because you can't see it, but those three buttony-looking things down the cleave, those are jewels, and I love a good bedazzlement.

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Also, sorry I uploaded the photos so small. It's so hot, and my brains are melty.

Now with extra triumph!!!

My student loans came through today, so I paid for my tuition online, forgetting that that always takes a few business days and that tuition is due on Sunday (which, ftr, is an idiotic day to have anything due on), but instead of playing the Will My Online Payment Go Through In Time Game (which is equally, if not MORE fun, than its predecessor), I hoofed down to the school to see what my worst-case-scenario would be.

They honor tuition the day it's paid, regardless of when it comes in, so no fees for me. No being withdrawn from my classes. No frowny faces on my bank statements.

I will celebrate with cupcakes.

In which I am an ingrate.

So, sad face. We've been having this beautiful weather, and we have this deck and a couple of bottles of cheap wine and some frozen mango and I think a bag of chips somewhere and I'm not very busy because I only have the one class and papers are in the only vaguely forseeable future. But Joel's in the middle of finals and spends his days locked in a room at school with no windows.

So while I'm having a great time reading trashy fiction in the sun, it'd be nice if Joel could also be reading trashy fiction (or some serious, manly non-fiction) with me, but by the time he's done and able to spend time on the deck I'll be taking Vic Lit and Spanish, and you're all, That's not a big deal, that's, like, two classes, but what you don't realize is that it's a full semester of Spanish in 3 weeks which is like being KICKED IN THE TEETH WITH SPANISH!!!

So, boo. My life is awesome, but could be more awesome.

Triumph!!

It worked. The Recycling Snobs had no choice but to pick up our re-usables. I am filled with the thrill of victory.

Also, go here to hear me blather on about why, despite all its failings, Top Model = awesome.

This is a fun game.

Will the student loans come through before tuition is due?

The 'Yes, you get money' email came yesterday, tuition is due on Sunday. There are three more working days for all those dollars to filter through the red tape into my account.

*holds breath*

Another peep into my inbox.

Dear Landlords,

Please come back and install the blinds that you installed the supports for back in January, so that I can do my Yoga Booty Ballet (which is just as ridiculous as it sounds, but also surprisingly awesome) without the neighbors joining in.

Thx.

Raych


Dear Frozen Bananas,

I hope you are actually good for me, and not all just in my subconscious, because I have been eating a lot of you, and mostly dipped in chocolate. I suspect that there are more calories in you than you allege. I have been Yoga Balleting my Booty, so you watch yourselves.

Love,

Raych


Dear Sunny Deck,

Let's make out.

Love (even more than the bananas),

Raych


Dear Vanity Fair (the book, not the magazine),

You are long. I thought Edgar Sawtelle was long, but you do not seem to end. Also, due to all of your pages, you are heavy and difficult to read on the aforementioned deck. You require two hands to hold, hampering my ability to eat a frozen banana. If you could please conclude sometime in the next hundred or so pages, I would be much obliged.

With respect for your place in literary history, if not a lot of love,

Raych

Frozer

Joel and I recently acquired a half-sized deep freeze (thx, parents!!) and since I have all this space now, I've been experimenting with things that can and cannot be frozen (note: most everything can be frozen. The lone exception, I think, is booze. Anyway, the experiment has more to do with the relative deliciousness of frozen things to their pre-froze selves).

Things that are just as good after being frozen: meat.

Things that are better after being frozen: bananas, mangoes (eat while frozen or in the process of thawing. Do not thaw and then eat. That will be gross).

Things that are more gross almost to the point of being inedible after being frozen: potatoes, and I'm going to guess, apples.

Stay tuned, I'll be here all summer.

It's like a math problem, without any of the math.

We've embarked on a multi-week experiment, tentatively titled Getting the City to Pick Up Our Recycling, Since They're So Damned High-and-Mighty About Green Living.

A few weeks ago, we came home on recycling day to find our bins still heaped with soggy pizza boxes (ours) and free-range organic egg cartons (the troll in the basement's). There was one of those Things You're Doing Wrong notes, but it didn't make any sense, so I went online last week to see what was and wasn't allowed in the surprisingly strict Victoria recycling guidelines. Juice boxes and creamo cartons are, apparently, verboten. We took out all the contraband and even took a stab at sorting, but nothing doing.

The troll did a bit of recon last week (read: peeped in our neighbor's recycling to see how they do, and then spied on the recycling guys from the basement window) and figures that since the one guy gave the impression of being unable to lift our bin full of empty milk jugs and ketchup containers, that we should split up our goods into three bins instead of two. Because city workers are fragile types. The guys only come by every two weeks, so we'll have to sit on this idea for a while and try not to eat anything that comes in boxes or cans in the meantime.

If this fails, we have another idea or two up our sleeves, but it's tempting to just start hucking things in the garbage. I mean, I'm all for recycling with minimal effort, but if I'm blogging about this it means that I've had to put entirely too much thought into it.

The day of the mother!

Ok, because I start classes this week, I couldn't get out to the mainland to day to fete my mother like she deserves, and my parents are socially useless on Sundays anyways, so last Thursday, having lied to my mother about when classes actually start so that she wouldn't suspect nothing, I got up early and caught a myriad of buses and the ferry and was picked up by my dad and sister who had also lied to my mother about where they were going. Une surprise!!

But because mothers are busy people, most of the Great Mother's Day adventure involved me hanging out with boo, and watching Project Runway with mom when she had a minute.

Also, making my famous brownies-that-have-cookie-dough-in-them for her and then helping her eat them. In the process, boo and I discovered why we both have crop-circles-of-grease on so many of our shirts (this picture is poor proof, but they're there), and it has to do with using the torso as a third hand when putting the cap back on the Pam.



But the brownies. They were only supposed to be a small batch but then we figured we'd better use the bigger pan, since we were tossing all these cookies (HA! See what I did there?) into the batter, but then we ended up not having enough brownie to cover the cookie dough, so we made a second batch of brownie and schmeared that on too.
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No pictures of the finished product, because we ate it. And then we went for a run. Behold the evidence! I'm putting my hand in what is not actually a pocket here, to emphasize the fact that WE ARE CLOTHING-TWINS!!!

By which I mean that mom and boo are clothing-twins, since I didn't bring any of my de-fatting gear and had to borrow mom's. Koala is in this picture to make us look thin. We ran around Deer Lake park, and the balance of power seems to have shifted so that instead of boo trying to keep up with me because I am the older sister, I was huffing and puffing to keep up with her, because I am the older sister.

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And we watched a really depressing hockey game and half of the first season of Arrested Development and went shopping and I bought the same shirt in 3 different colors because they were on for cheap and went to go see a friend of boo's perform (boo did the artwork for her cd, and it's stellar, but I can't find it online anywhere) and watched some more Project Runway and then I came home.

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The end.

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Ed. The recipe for the brownies is as follows: Buy a bag of Chipits and make half of the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back, because it really is the best one. Make your favorite brownie recipe, or whatever one you can find on the internet that has the word 'intense' or 'explosion' or 'best' in it. Grease a 13x9 pan, do not use your midriff to close the Pam because it will leave a crop-circle. Make blobs out of half of the cookie dough (mine were golf-ball-ish sized) and put those in the pan. Flood with brownie batter (if necessary, make more brownie batter). Make blobs of the rest of the cookie dough and put them on top, kind of trying to place them where there isn't already cookie dough beneath, but it doesn't really matter. Also, don't bother trying to smooth down the cookie lumps, everything will flat out in the oven. Cook for 40-ish minutes, or until toothpick inserted etc etc. Cool and eat.

Zzz.

I don't think I'd have planned a huge bbq chez nous for tomorrow AFTER THE 10K RUN if I'd known how wrecked I was going to be after my exam today. This paper/exam block has been more exhausting than any other. Is this what upper-level-undergrad is? Soul-sucking?

Anyways, it's 8:30 and I think I'm allowed to sleep now.

Anatomy of a berfday

So I got up and went to the gym, because berfday or no I still have to run ten K's on Sunday, and a fatter me = brokener knees. So...boo.

But Joel brought me these! I have got to look into getting a real vase so I can stop putting my flowers in that fancy glass I jacked from Red Robin. So yay.

And then I studied Chaucer for eleventy hours, because berfday or no, I still have to write an exam tomorrow. Booo.

But then one of our Perpetual-Bedroom-Ceiling-Spiders made the mistake of crawling onto a side-wall, and I killed it with Joel's moccasin *shhhh* and the other PBCS seems to have died of its own accord, so when I go to bed tonight I won't dream of leggggggs on my face. TRIUMPH!

And then the mail came and my berfday card wasn't in it, because berfday or no, CanadaPost is still run by monkeys a monopoly. Booooo.

But then the sun came out, and I made Chaucer come outside and hang out with me there. He is made of paper and only weighs thirty pounds, so I get to boss him around like this. Wheee!

And then Joel came home and we had to put on grown-up clothes and go to this...dinner...thing...for some project he's doing, because berfday or no, I am a doctor's wife.

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But I didn't have to cook, so score one for me!

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But whoever DID cook was a fish-happy moron, so I just had soup, except that the soup was clam chowder, so I just had salad and a biscuit because berfday or no, fishes are gross.

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But then I went to bed and had exam-mares for the last time this semester....we'll call that one a draw.

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Overall, I've had worse birthdays, but I've also had ones that didn't involve so much fish and Middle English. But Joel's going to take me whale-watching, so zoot zoot in the end.

Serenadator!!!

Ok, if you haven't heard of Susan Boyle by now, I'd like to know how much rent you pay for that rock you've been living under, and if you aren't totally sick of her by this point then you obviously don't spend as much time trawling teh intarwebs as I do.



But if you're looking for a new little someting to blow your minds, I recommend you check out Shaheen. I know, we are busy people. Please just watch til about the 1:07 mark. Then you may re-affix your jaw to your face, and go on about your day.



For the record, however, my favorite big-voice-small-body is still Bianca Ryan from three years back. This girl could use a stylist who doesn't take her tips from my 7th grade graduation, but she's got CHOPS!

And it was a good time.

What did we do for our anniversary?

We slept in and did not go to the gym, and it was awesome.

Then Joel went to school, because that's what he does. I cleaned the house, which sounds kind of shitty but you know when the messes and piles and stains have become a part of the house, and it's almost a legitimate option to burn the whole thing down and start over? I feel like I've just showered after not having touched water for days.

Then we took our gift cards and went to Boston Pizza to watch playoff hockey. It was like our honeymoon all over again, except with better beer. Also, the Canucks won.