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Oh Anthony Williams, you are a delight.

Today was a string off low grade pissoffs that wrapped me up for a while like a tentacled LOTR monster, so I’m making one pot of chicken soup to rule the soul tonight, and guess which clever clogs figured out if I put the chicken carcass, bones & bay leaves in a fry basket turned on its side, it’ll be piece of chicken bone cake* to get them all out again when the time comes?!

Onions & celery are hot tubbin in there with some bouillon in the water, and soon I’ll add carrots, leftover chicken and finally, rice.

Until then, I’m enjoying the amazing aroma while I watch the director’s commentary on Bourne Supremacy and freesnack on chocolate, peanut butter and banana.**

(*No plans to attempt chicken bone cake after I’m done with the carcass, but your culinary mileage may vary.)

(**Also there may have been a Clonazepam. And it may have tasted a bit like a roach I may have drunkenly put in my pillbox.)

NNRNO*

*Never Not Reblogging Nasty On** **Especially because I may very well have been at this show.

(Srsly my all-time fave Vancouver band, and you should all follow Grimmertown while you’re at it because that dude is aces too.)

(Source: grimmertown)

Ingredients for a lovely, lazy winter Sunday…

Not pictured: random assortment of DVDs and a thoughtful parental care package including fruit, veg, chocolate & 2 meals of chicken mole w/ rice & cotija cheese. Also not pictured, my joy at the the rock star greeting I received from my fave golden retriever who had come along for the ride with my pops.

Not adequately depicted here: the amazingness of this King-sized plush electric blanket in which I am cocooned and which is cranked up to 9; the stankilicious nature of my insanely good Private Reserve weed.

This carrot apple ginger soup I made is so fucking good, my neighbours must think I’m filming porn in the kitchen.

Fighting off the sniffles with homemade carrot apple ginger soup. Serving with a great chewy spelt bread and butter, it’s fixin to be gluten-free heaven up in here soon.

Still no wifi, but now that my 3G is working again, I can focus on the important things, like how pimp-ass viewy my new housesit is!

Word to my Lions (the hard nips there on the far right among the snowy North shore mountains, namesake of all things “Lionsgate” in Vancouver, including the shlocky movie studio) and word to my VanTerm shipyard cranes! And if I had a long lens, you’d be able to see a few glimpses of Pacific Ocean in there, too.

It’s in the same 2 block radius as 2 of my previous housesits, but unlike either of them, it’s both on the top floor and facing north, so shit is mad viewy, especially when it’s as beautiful out as it is today.

Also, compared to both of those places, this has like 700% less cats to look after (total number of cats: zero).

I’ll be back…

Unbelievably, this January 8th marks 5 years since my mom’s passing.

Sandy (pictured above in one of our last photos together) was an exceptional human being whose gifts to me I will forever cherish. A blue-eyed, dimpled, self-confessed cheesebag who got verklemt when people sang O Canada really loudly, my mother’s legacy resonates throughout the softer side of my personality (especially the musical and artistic side), and permeates my daily life, both with her trademark schmaltzy tears and other gratifying complications that shall doubtless be played out over the years to come. 

In life, especially towards the end of hers, we clashed (as one does with one’s mother), and I learned to be not just okay with that, but to celebrate both our imperfections and our difficulties with each other. We had some honest, ongoing struggles to understand each other, but her death was a (the?) turning point in my life, one I’m still processing even after all this time. Ultimately, though, her joy in being the most superb mom to me and my brother, and eventually, in being the woman she wanted to be is incredibly inspirational to me, especially as I imagine the personal milestones and obstacles she’d experienced at the age I am now.

Whether it’s a memory of her favourite Broadway musical that turns from a buried memory into a stellar karaoke song for me, or a zillion other exquisite moments unfolding, whether I’m on a traditional path or just chillin on my own terms with my nephbro Jackson (whom she never got to meet, but was named for her beloved brother who predeceased her), I’m strengthened by the fact that her best qualities glow within me like fireflies in a jar.

I don’t ‘do’ New Year’s Resolutions, but I do always try to mark this special day by redoubling my efforts to champion the creative impulses and gentle benevolence my mother embodied… with a healthy dollop of Hezitude to keep it all in balance.

Written on her headstone, the truest words to live by I know… 

“Life is short, so live it wide…” 

hellogiggles:

We are so excited for @beyonce @molls @sofifiii (Taken with instagram)

EGAD, Molls, you have never looked more beautiful!

tallwhitney:

Dream home? 

(via nomadicway)

Shit. I’ve just been reading Jeffrey Eugenides’ Middlesex and it’s actually kind of astonishing how much every detail pictured here (the yellow, the glass, the openness, the nooks) brings to mind the Grosse Pointe house he describes. Eerie.

Hey guys! Dogs Eating Pasta is back and better than ever!

(Source: dogseatingpasta)