Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff's Clean Sweep

As I mentioned here a few times before, I, like my lovely wife, have hoarding "behaviours".  I think one of the things that fascinates and terrifies me about Hoarders and similar is that I'm not SUPER far away from being one of them. 

Because we both want to collect ALL THE THINGS, Katr and I try to get rid of things regularly and keep a fairly clutter-free home. I feel that we have largely succeeded, except in a few areas. One of those areas is my horrific work area.

I once slept under a pile of clean laundry for 3 months, so it often takes awhile for clutter to get to me. But last week, I totally snapped and vowed that if I only did ONE THING this Victoria Day long weekend, it would be cleaning off my goddamn desk.

I only did one thing this Victoria Day weekend. And here is the evidence.

"Before" photos of my work area, with accompanying feelings.

OMG I HATE EVERTHING

WHY CAN'T I WRITE A CHEQUE WITHOUT KNOCKING A BOX OF ENVELOPES OVER ON TO THE DOG FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG.

After:

Mmmmmm.

Flowers.

Creampuff Also Missed Mother's Day

My new-mom friend Chezza commented that my last post was juuuuust the right length for her attention span at the moment and I laughed and laughed. Congrats, Chezza! I am sure that you are already a kick-ass mom.

But seriously, back to me. Chezza's comment reminded me that I totally forgot this thing that I was going to post for Mother's Day.

Naturally, my mother gave me the greatest gift of all - LIFE!! But this past Solstice, she gave me a gift of almost equal value - a video of my first year or so on the planet, which she had lovingly had transferred from super 8 to DVD. 

I was born in the 1970s, when documenting your child's every move on film was not so common. So this shit is GOLD!! I felt like a cat going through the mirror stage when I first saw it. 

Because you are neither me, nor my mother, I'm not posting the entire 15 minute video of me holding my toes, running around in my diaper at the waterpark, learning how to play ball and generally being adorable in my Osh Kosh B'Gosh overalls (although I do enjoy how I look like a teeny tiny lesbian).

BUT I did want to share my favourite minute and a half of the video, because:

1. Look how gorgeous my mom is! She is still that gorgeous.

2. Look how much like Jesus my dad looks! He looks more like a koala bear now.

3. FUCK I hated that Winnie the Pooh snowsuit. And also, that sled. There's a soundtrack that's pretty funny as well.

 

Creampuff Misses a Week

In my defense, we were at a social media conference in Victoria last week and when we got back, I was too busy actually working to bore you with the minutae of my daily life. But I have a few minutes now and a few photos, so get ready.

1. This cat is named Big Balls. This grainy photo was taken from across the street. Big Balls has such big balls that he will not move from this spot, no matter how apeshit Emmy Lou goes two inches from his face. 

2. I took my first panorama shot at the Empress Hotel in Victoria, where we stayed for the conference. JEALOUS? It was a really huge room with this hilariously terrible layout. Talk about your first world problems.

3. This morning, I get to Skype in to a workshop reading of Padu's new theatre for young audiences play, Outside. I feel like I am dramaturging from outer space. Look! I'm being attacked by moisturizer!! Now I know how austronaut Chris Hadfield feels.

Creampuff Must Rethink Craigslist Strategy

Last week, I put this ad up on Craigslist. 

About an hour after I posted, I got a response.

"WOULD LIKE TO BUY. COLLEEN."

That was it.

Well...not everyone appreciates my rapier Craigslist wit. As per my strict "first come, first served" policy, I replied to Colleen and asked her when she wanted to pick it up.

"SATURDAY MORNING."

I told her that Saturday morning was fine, if she could get here by 9:30 a.m. because we had a social engagement (our lovely friend and houseguest Mome was taking us out for brunch and no one gets in the way of my goddamn brunch).

"SATURDAY 9:30 A.M. [Insert phone number here]."

I only give out our address to a Craigslist buyer once we've fixed a time to meet - and Colleen had also sent her phone number. So I gave her our address.

Fast forward to Saturday morning at 9:30,when Colleen fails to show up. I give her 15 minutes of leeway and then call her.

I get her voicemail which was, no joke, just someone grunting "COLLEEN" into the phone and then a beep.

Aw, BALLSACK.

I never used to have to worry about this shit when I lived in a building but now that we live in a house-like structure, in a neighbourhood where break-ins aren't unusual, I'm a lot more paranoid. Suddenly, I was pretty sure that Colleen was lying in wait for us to leave so that she could burgle my abode.

We briefly futzed around, waffling between just leaving the ottoman outdoors and hoping Colleen would leave the money in the mailbox and then angrily bringing the ottoman back indoors because I WANT MY TWENTY DOLLARS. 

Katr, Mome, Emmy Lou and I sat there in the car, torn. I really didn't want to get robbed...but I also REALLY wanted brunch.

"I guess I could just make brunch at home," I said in a martyr-like manner. Then Katr goes "Or we could just leave the dog behind."

My wife is a genius. An intruder would have to be very committed to try and rob our house with Emmy Lou in it. Because Emmy Lou is a loud, throaty barker. She barks at everyone who comes in the gate. She is awesome at it. She thinks it is her job. And on Saturday, IT WAS.

Thanks to Emmy Lou, we not only went to brunch with untroubled hearts, but also drove downtown to Mome's favourite Transylvanian bakery for nuga cake and to Commercial Drive so that I could grab a birthday present for my brother. And when we got home, Emmy was there, barking her fuzzy little head off. What a good dog. Good dog, Emmy. 

Colleen never called back or emailed.

This incident has caused me to reexamine my first come, first served Craigslist policy. Sometimes it works out great - but now that I think about it, there have been several times where the first person to respond doesn't ultimately end up being the buyer, because they're impulsively replying to Craigslist ads and don't have their shit together.

I got a second response to the ad about a day after first hearing from Colleen, which read, in part:

"I would like to purchase the ottoman, I do have a cat and I think he would quite enjoy it!"

The email also included the buyer's cell number and a firm offer to come pick up. And, mere hours after Colleen stood us up, Theresa showed up and bought our ottoman. She reports that her cat is LOVIN' it.

So I'm revising my Craigslist policy:

1. Buyer must comment on how funny my ad was or make a funny comment themselves or at least include a salutation in their email.
2. Buyer must indicate that they have an actual plan to pick up. Bonus points for using a phrase like "firm pick up" or "my husband has a truck and will pick up"
3. ALL CAPS MEANS NO OTTOMAN FOR YOU.

Anyway - Colleen, I hope you're okay and that nothing horrible happened to you. And if nothing horrible happened to you, I think it was pretty douchey of you to stand us up.

Creampuff Has Something For You To Do Over Lunch

Well, there's no way to say this without sounding like a giant dillweed, but I am kind of a big deal.

When Katr gets pulled over for her next DUI, I will be in the passenger seat shouting "Do you KNOW my NAME??" at the arresting officer and then looking demure in my mugshot. And if the arresting officer is a theatre fan who lives in Calgary and likes to be entertained on her lunch hour by witty and powerful plays, then she WILL know my name!

My one-act play Camp Victoria is WORLD PREMIERING at Lunchbox Theatre in Calgary next March - and it opens on my BIRTHDAY! Wooooo!!!

The play is inspired by real people and events - here's a photo of Faith Fenton and the VON nurses that Katr found and put up on a little Camp Victoria page, because she's the best.

I love these gals.

Left to right: Margaret Payson, Rachel Hanna, Georgina Powell and Amy Scott.
Faith Fenton of the Toronto Globe is on the right.

Margaret Payson, Rachel Hanna and Faith Fenton are the three characters in the show. I love the look both my nurses are both giving the camera, like "Really? We have work to do." whereas Faith is all "I'm looking towards my FUTURE."

Speaking of gals, I don't think I'm supposed to talk about the cast yet but they're SUPER AWESOME and I'm totally thrilled that they will be donning corsets and getting loaded onstage together for your amusement. And I'm equally thrilled that Glenda Stirling is directing, because she too is SUPER AWESOME and really smart and will make me look almost as smart. Hashtag: WINNING.

Seriously, though...let's be serious. It's not every day that an artistic director thinks that one of my funny little corset plays are "right" for their "audience" and like many writin' types, the majority of my plays have been produced BY ME, at festivals and cabarets and workshops and the like. So the idea that Lunchbox Theatre is "doing the show" and all I have to do to provide some rewrites and show up to see it is weird and fantastic. So huge thanks to the lovely folks at Lunchbox for including me in what looks to be a pretty tremendous season. I'm really excited to be a part of it.

So hey! If you're in Calgary in March of 2014, I hope to see you at Camp Victoria! And in the meantime, you can follow Lunchbox Theatre on Twitter and Facebook.

Corsets!

Creampuffs Get Dirty

Last night in the kitchen, I burst into tears because the cauliflower I was preparing for our evening meal was "insanely buggy".

(In my defense, this effing cauliflower WAS riddled with tiny bugs but by the time I was ready to give up on it, I'd already assiduously de-bugged two thirds of it and it felt dumb not to soldier on.)

Still, I don't think I was really crying about the cauliflower. I also burst into tears when, after a power outage on Monday, I couldn't figure out how to reprogram the goddamn clock on the effing microwave. (Also in my defense, neither could Katr.)

Between my own family sadness and all the other crazy shit going on in the world, it's been a pretty heavy week and a half all 'round. So while I may not be capable of Katr's eloquence, as demonstrated by her excellent post this week "Increasing our capacity for compassion", I thought I would try to focus this week's post on something equally life-affirming and, perhaps a little dirty.

Aw yeah, that's right - motherfuckin' GARDENING.

This year our upstairs neighbours and all around manly men Jaco and Jeea built each of the units in our triplex a huge planter box on the boulevard, so that we could take advantage of the sun there and grow some motherfuckin' lavender. 

There are three of these babies on our boulevard now and people are impressed. They stop to look at the boxes. They check out all the plants. They ask us how the boxes got there and where the dirt came from.

It's been fun talking to neighbours who I've seen over the past three years but have never actually conversed with. I also hope that now that they know who lives here and that we are nice people who don't like to step in dog shit, they'll quit letting their dogs shit on our lawn.

Here's the dirty part:

There was a lot of dirt. Jaco ordered extra so that we would be able to fill the boxes, but then there was a LOT left over. Katr and I wiled away a sunny afternoon slowly moving this dirt, one bucket at a time, to various dirt-free areas on our collective property. Newsflash - dirt is heavy! You're welcome.

We decided to use our box mainly for herbs and poppies and a few below-ground items (radishes, scallions). My reasoning was that if someone wants to help themselves to a handful of herbs as they wander by, I'm fine with that - but if they take my tomatoes, it's a swift kick to the nutsack. Best to keep the tomatoes in the yard.

Here's our planter - cilantro, marjoram, thyme, rosemary, lavender, chives, garlic chives, scallions, radishes, poppies, one random geranium.

Syvo's planter is a lovely mix of lettuces and flowers, with an aspiring peony in the middle.

Kico and Jaco's planter is like the Versailles of planters - pansies, tulips, ferns and lettuces.

A few weeks and a lot of rain later, things are sprouting! Radishes!

Poppies!

Katr also got the peas going in our yard and they're sprouting too. Peas!

The kale is sprouting too, because we're Vancouver douchebags now and must grow kale. But that doesn't mean I have to photograph it. 

That's all the gardening news - FOR NOW. I know you'll all be DESPERATE to know when we get the beans and tomatoes in the ground!!!!111!!! so I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, when shit gets real, it's nice to be able to look out my office window and see these:

Pretty.

WTF Universe??

My little cousin Keena was killed in a car accident Sunday morning just outside of Calgary.

The weather was crazy, there was black ice, it was no one's fault...she's just gone and that. Is. CRAZY.

These things are always unfair, but this feels extra stupid unfair, because Keena was a really lovely person who was barely in her 30s. She had so much going for her and had so many things that she was working towards and looking forward to.

It's so awful and just really really sad. Many many handkerchiefs have been soaked through at my house this week; the whole extended clan is devastated and I can't even imagine how her parents and brothers and her partner are feeling.  

I'm headed to Calgary for the service on Friday and I plan to spend the entire time trapping my remaining cousins in uncomfortably long hugs. Because they're my family and I love them and oh my god, NO to dying!!! No more!!! Seriously, Jesus. Enough.