![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
miscellania
Sep. 4th, 2011 05:07 pmI took Friday off, turning this into a 4 day weekend. And today, for the first time in months, I'm a bit of a loss about what to do with myself. No marking, no teaching, no heinous project succubus, no mountain of laundry. Spent a couple of hours by the pool yesterday so I decided to give that a miss. Himself paddled to kingdom come and back this morning and is prostate on the chesterfield. I am hidden in the bedroom, having caught up on some PVRing whilst scarfing down a bowl of buttered popcorn.
in short, my life does not suck. 't all.
Dunno if I mentioned that our storage cubicle got robbed about a month ago. I thought I'd twigged on everything missing, but a couple of days ago another thing crossed my mind. And yes, turns out my ice skates were pinched. Now despite my commodity fetishist inclinations I am not terribly materialistic. Things do not make me happy. So losing a thing usually doesn't make me unhappy. But the skates, o the skates. These were men's recreational ice hockey skates: soft rollerblade-like boots with hockey blades. Hard to find in Vancouver--or online in Canada. Maudit Christ de tabarnak de cave! A few days' research and replacements were found and ordered. Life goes on.
This time last week NYC was getting whacked by Hurricane Irene. Many seem to think the storm was overhyped. And yes, if you went by the footage of Andersoon Cooper in his damp Crocs on the Battery, sure. pas grand chose. But this is what
my old 'hood (Rockaway Beach, or Belle Harbor to be more specific) looked like last Sunday morning:
That's B 131st St. My aunt lives on B 129th; my parents lived on B 127th. I suspect the folks who bought their place are now dealing with pumps, insurance brokers, and rotting drywall. Could've been much worse: the surge was "only" 4 feet at high tide. Had it been 6 or 8 feet the neighbourhood would've been fucked. Last time Rockaway flooded like this was 1960 and Hurricane Donna. Life goes on.
A new (non-teaching) term starts on Wednesday; I'm starting German 101 on Thursday afternoon. Figured it's time to take a crack at another language besides French. Teacher's supposed to be great and the schedule is perfect: 15h30-1700 Tuesdays and Thursdays. No night class, sweet. With the class comes a U Pass, which is an insanely cheap all zone transit pass ($30/month rather than $110). And I've now got parking for the new vehicle on campus. I'm gonna give driving a go every day this week and see how it feels. Seems strange not to be us it, but a 19 minute commute is awesome. And I've started back at the gym; so far so good. Need to be in better shape for the mountains this winter. Life goes on.
A year ago today I was in this bed crying, with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
querrelle holding me. Mom had died--not a surprise, but still a heartbreak--and our plans to fly back East for the next day were made. It was a tough, sad week. And this past year has been full of the "firsts": Thanksgiving, Xmas, my birthday, Mother's Day, Ma and Da's anniversary, Ma's birthday. But I had to look at last year's calendar to figure out which date she died. Because I'm all about the life, not the death. And I refuse to commemorate this date. It's a transition point, not a landmark.
Life goes on.
in short, my life does not suck. 't all.
Dunno if I mentioned that our storage cubicle got robbed about a month ago. I thought I'd twigged on everything missing, but a couple of days ago another thing crossed my mind. And yes, turns out my ice skates were pinched. Now despite my commodity fetishist inclinations I am not terribly materialistic. Things do not make me happy. So losing a thing usually doesn't make me unhappy. But the skates, o the skates. These were men's recreational ice hockey skates: soft rollerblade-like boots with hockey blades. Hard to find in Vancouver--or online in Canada. Maudit Christ de tabarnak de cave! A few days' research and replacements were found and ordered. Life goes on.
This time last week NYC was getting whacked by Hurricane Irene. Many seem to think the storm was overhyped. And yes, if you went by the footage of Andersoon Cooper in his damp Crocs on the Battery, sure. pas grand chose. But this is what
my old 'hood (Rockaway Beach, or Belle Harbor to be more specific) looked like last Sunday morning:
That's B 131st St. My aunt lives on B 129th; my parents lived on B 127th. I suspect the folks who bought their place are now dealing with pumps, insurance brokers, and rotting drywall. Could've been much worse: the surge was "only" 4 feet at high tide. Had it been 6 or 8 feet the neighbourhood would've been fucked. Last time Rockaway flooded like this was 1960 and Hurricane Donna. Life goes on.
A new (non-teaching) term starts on Wednesday; I'm starting German 101 on Thursday afternoon. Figured it's time to take a crack at another language besides French. Teacher's supposed to be great and the schedule is perfect: 15h30-1700 Tuesdays and Thursdays. No night class, sweet. With the class comes a U Pass, which is an insanely cheap all zone transit pass ($30/month rather than $110). And I've now got parking for the new vehicle on campus. I'm gonna give driving a go every day this week and see how it feels. Seems strange not to be us it, but a 19 minute commute is awesome. And I've started back at the gym; so far so good. Need to be in better shape for the mountains this winter. Life goes on.
A year ago today I was in this bed crying, with
querrelle holding me. Mom had died--not a surprise, but still a heartbreak--and our plans to fly back East for the next day were made. It was a tough, sad week. And this past year has been full of the "firsts": Thanksgiving, Xmas, my birthday, Mother's Day, Ma and Da's anniversary, Ma's birthday. But I had to look at last year's calendar to figure out which date she died. Because I'm all about the life, not the death. And I refuse to commemorate this date. It's a transition point, not a landmark. Life goes on.
