two brothers

you may remember our mafia guy, tony. he has a scratchy voice and his cell phone rings to the tune of Dallas. this week, we met his brother -- angelo. one brother nearly tears off your hand with a tight hand shake, the other has one of those soft dying, barely there shakes. he was an odd looking fellow., that angelo. his face was skinny but he had an enormous ass. (may sound like a mean observation, but it was really a surprizing feature on angelo -- made him seem like a cartoon character and significantly less tough than his mafia reputation would suggest) he looked like a cross between john cusack in being john malkovich and the guy from American Splendor. balding on top, long and stringy hair at the back. he liked to talk. we could barely sneak away, though he was charming. there is just one more brother in the family, left for us to meet. stay tuned...

lucky strike

she found her resting place in a few garbage bags in a recycling bin in the front yard. (i am sure the cat hearst will arrive to collect her any moment now) i couldn't bare to look, much less inhale as we pulled her from the window well. the fateful black corner is now empty. angels swooped in to carry her into her next life. her 9 here were well spent. rip, Lucky.

an appointment with god

he came into the waiting room wearing all white with white birkenstocks. the snow fell knowingly out the window. he smiled sweetly and his hands were warm. his office was minimalist with a touch of turquoise and a new age print of a sparkly blue circle hung on the wall behind his desk. the room smelled faintly like a spa. his eyes were intense. he pulled out a pair of pink glasses for me to wear. i was skeptical. i had the urge to burst out laughing, then a wave of my worst fears washed over me and manifested as tears down my cheek. take 7 drops of this potion in water, twice a day. heal, baby, heal.

packet o' spunk

rubbing her eyes from sleep, she stumbles into the kitchen to find a sky blue and electric yellow box on the impossibly clean counter.

the box declares boldly: Packet O'Spunk

moving in for a closer look, she sees the fine print on the back.

Remember how you felt after months of backpacking thru Europe? inspired. adventurous. irreverent. downright invinceable. Well then, grab 1 Packet o'Spunk(tm) daily with breakfast and you can achieve that same dose of inspiration without the Eurorail pass.

*Batteries sold separately, do not mix with Gin as it can cause hives.

there was a testimonial from Shirley in the far corner: (photo shows a wild eyed 78 year old with a cheeta print scarf.)

"Who knew there was a raging teenager within me! I haven't stopped dancing since I got started on Packet o'Spunk."

another one of life's mysteries, i'm afraid.

she's a supa freak

supa freak, she's supa freak-eh.

just as i decided to post tonight that song erupted from the telly. must have been a sign.

the biggest challenge since i got back is trying not to fall back into bad habits, lose my inner "kick in the pants", remembering the wisdom of philosphy read to me by hospital bedside...here's what the philosopher king read to me. (paraphrased)

life isn't too short, it's just we don't live it fully enough. we act like we have endless amounts of time when we should be very careful how and what we dole time out for. i think this is true for dreams too.

whenever i start to get a case of the mean reds, i'll have to sing my new athem.

she's supa freak-eh.

notice

we gave official 60 day notice today, so we are moving into our new place may 1st. in 60 days the walls will fill in, plumbing and electrical will fall into place. the count down begins. gentlemen, start your engines.

artifact found: black cat

warning: not for the faint of heart or cat lovers.

in that fateful corner of the basement, where the poetry was stashed, our plumber's crew found a dead black cat in the boarded up window well. poor thing, he was frozen stiff. hopefully, this is one of those reverse luck things. like a bird dropping on your shoulder is good luck. we need to call some kind of service to have Lucky removed. maybe that is what happens when you throw out your dead husband's poetry. someone in the heavens roared, and a sacrifice was made. our basement seems to be a magnet for strangeness. first the nativity set, then the journals, now this. stay tuned for more tales from the voodoo basement.

mystery revealed: polish journals

dN ran into thelma from next door as he arrived at the house to meet with the plumber today. we gave her the bag o' polish journals we found tucked into a corner of the basement. turns out her mother hid them there after her father died. they are filled with poetry. apparently her mother hated his poetry. i wonder what the real story is. anyone want to take a guess? maybe all the poems rhymed and were about past loves. that would drive any sane woman to stash her dead husband's books of poetry into a decaying corner in the basement. odd stash, i'll say that much.

strip naked we're fitting you for insoles

only in switzerland could they find a way to make something so geriatric, somehow sexy. it was surreal. my vision was slowly starting to come back as we headed on a train bound for a charming swiss town called Appenzell. my mum was my escort, seeing eye person. my dr recommended the orthopedic fitting from a small sports shop run by a former olympic skier. it's a long boring story unrelated to my eyes on why the custom insoles were needed. it's a bit like bringing the car into the shop for an oil change and fixing the squeaky brakes while you're at it.

anyhow, we find our way upstairs to the fitting area and there is a distracted fellow behind the desk who looks like the swiss version of robert redford though slightly more athletic. his female assistant is a 20 something bookish type who speaks more english than he does but that's not saying much. there is a large swiss woman in her 60s ahead of us, she sits beside the desk and flips thru a magazine in stocking feet as she waits for her insoles. seems mundane enough. i really wasn't expecting what happened next.

off to the side, there is a platform with stairs and a tv screen built into the top step that you have to walk up and step on before you begin, they take a few impressions, snapshots, whatever and then you go into a room around the corner. there's a curtain on the door, a few sleek modern chairs against the wall for waiting and then a computer and video camera on the other side of the room directly across from a black curtain and another tv screen that you step on. the assistant mimes to me to remove my clothes except the "pantalones and bikini." hmm...

in the muddle of half swiss german and half english i realize that i am supposed to face the black curtain (away from the room), there is a huge spotlight on me. I can see in my shadow that my shoulders are up around my ears so i take a deep breath, relax and conjure Karen Cain hoping my posture improves. next the bookish assistant tells me to remove the bikini and put on a headband (i am an aerobic queen from the 80s)...then please pull down the "pantalones" just enough so they can see the bottom of the spine. capture it on video. then this fan comes on from below, blowing luke warm air up at me. i am tricked into being the star of an orthopedic porn flick obviously.

i smirk to myself and say "Ah, black toe." Of course, my mother doesn't get the Lost in Translation reference and says, "Black door?"

across the room the assistant and robert are fussing at the computer, ignoring us in the quest for perfect insoles. what feels like 20 minutes pass. still facing the black curtain, I say "Can I get dressed now?" everyone else seems to have forgotten that i am nearly naked and still facing the black curtain. they wave me along, like "Sure, sure whatever." then two minutes later we are the ones casually flipping thru a magazine by the desk outside while new unsuspecting insole seekers arrive.

of course the insoles fit like a dream.

back from the edge

thank you zesty and not-a-poet for missing my blog and to everyone who checked up on me while I was away. i've missed blogging too. there's a good reason why there was a lapse in posts. i have just come back from the edge of blindness. it started at the end of september with a blurry paragraph from time to time. by early january, i couldn't see the toothpaste on my toothbrush or the tea in my cup, people's faces were missing, cars and signs on the street were a blur -no tvs or computer monitiors for me. after trying conventional approaches without much success, i ended up at a clinic in switzerland for treatment. they tested me for heavy metals and found high levels of palladium, mercury, lead and tin to name a few. using natural remedies, vitamins, detoxification methods, and neural therapy intensively for a month ---- my left eye is almost back to normal and my right eye is clearing too. (my right eye has been blurry for two years so it will take longer to recover) anyhow, i am grateful to be seeing these words as I type, for the gift of renewed vision and my ability to return to normal life again. it will take awhile to get rid of all the toxins completely but thankfully the dr's are optimistic for a full recovery over 1-2 years.

more taxi cab wisdom

took a cab today and the driver was talking about wealth in terms of being humble. being the type of person who would have dinner with the president but would go over and speak with the staff afterwards with the same respect. he didn't have a family and was worried about spending new year's eve alone. i hope he finds his sally this new year's eve. it was a short ride but therapeutic. it was good to be out in the land of the living again.

may sugar plum fairies dance in your head this holiday.

artifact found: 4 polish journals

and an old black purse, stuffed in the ceiling in the farthest black corner of the basement, along with an old wine barrel tap. the journals are the black vinyl, lined types with pages and pages of neat writing in polish, smaller pages and envelopes tucked in and the odd newspaper clipping loosely folded between. are they prayers? deep dark family secrets? it's the corner of the basement where the wash basin and washer sit, a boarded up window. dank. we are guessing it was the mother of the house who stashed these books here. the writing style looks feminine. hopefully we unleash some cherished memories, we're going to give these journals to thelma next door, stay tuned...
posted by indigo herself @ 9:14 AM

hope faith courage

delving deep into the inner reserves. if you have any to spare, feel free to share. funny stories also appreciated. is anyone listening?

the neighbours: the berlin wall has fallen

behind the garage, a line of evergreens sits, covered in snow. peace. in the end, they gave up the quest for the berlin wall and all is silent, all is right between the two sides. a nice bit of christmas cheer.

bluegrass fridge

close to lunch and an eruption of squawking bluegrass noises boom momentarily from the fridge. it also faintly sounds like a baby crying. definately louder when you open the door, proof that i've gone off the deep end?

bright sun peeks thru

the lead glass windows splash patterns across my bedroom, photographs and mirror. in the living room there is a bizarre triangle of rainbow, the collection of light is like a necklace. bits of hope to hold on to. the world is full of beauty, if you can just take note, peace.

words to remember

when everything is fine. don't take anything for granted. appreciate the people who love you. take photos, make artwork, travel the world, do yoga, run for miles, dance. don't give in to the temptations of chocolate, pie, chips, pizza. take your vitamins and make sure to get your rest. laugh lots, stress not.

steak queen

SQ has arrived! Steak Queen: the house of the famous homemade burgers and steaks, of course. SQ inherits the space formerly occupied by Coffee Tip on the SW edge of christie pits, next to AFC (Adjuker's Fried Chicken). Coffee Tip was one of our favourite laughs on the way home. The sign was a rip off of Coffee Time, home to an interesting cast of characters, mafia types and lost souls. it was like the discount version of Boulevard of Broken Dreams. anyhow, the haphazard Coffee Tip sign is gone and replaced with the new but old style blue and yellow Steak Queen sign, S and Q interlinked in powerpoint graphics style. just wanted to make you aware in case a hankering for steak overcomes you. Where is the Steak King?

bin 4

bin 4 arrived without witness. the abandonned tv set has left the yard. the house is quickly unraveling, the attic is the space most changed -- raise high the roof beams! everything is exposed. the wall between the two rooms is almost completely gone. last night when we swung by to tape our permits to the window, we toured the place and marveled at the state of undress. the upstairs side window overlooks the neighbour's apartment. he isn't used to having an audience. in the amber light, we caught a glimpser of him pacing his apartment, tv on, dinner in progress. snow fell from the heavens last night and today the yard is sunny with a perfect layer of white rolled across.

fear

i have been out of my mind afraid lately. today, my wisest friend said - fear doesn't change anything. And he's right. Plus it actually makes the situation worse. so, picture me as a super hero flying in the face of this dark fear. she lands softly at the top of the mountain in time for a cocktail.