Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff's Neighbour Who Hates Us Part II

Part 1 of the neighbour who hates us

I remember the afternoon when the music started. It was Sunday, April 2nd, at around 4pm. Katr and I were in our dining room, playing a game of Wingspan, when we started to hear loud shitty death metal blasting from what seemed to be NWHU's house. It was a pleasant day and the windows were open. The music was so loud I could Shazam it from inside the house, but I wouldn’t, because it was so shitty.

I poked my head out the back door to see what was going on. Up on NWHU‘s balcony, she had a little boombox set up with the speakers pressed up against the balcony railing, pointed directly at our house.

I wrote down the time the music started, closed the window so we wouldn’t have to hear it and went back to playing. But I was shaking with fury. She tried to Noriega us in our own house! Also, it’s not like we are the only people who can hear this music. Literally everybody else in the neighbourhood was being blasted by death metal on a Sunday afternoon. For, as it turned out, three full hours. 

The tarps were one thing. This music blasting is really next level. Who does that? It was bananas. But when she didn't do it again for the rest of the month, I figured she had gotten it out of her system.

Speaking of the tarps: it turns out that anger tarps take a lot of maintenance. It was springtime on Vancouver Island and it was windy and rainy. At least once a week, she and her son had to be out in the yard, adjusting the tarps, trying to keep them from falling down or breaking the branches on the various trees she's tied the tarps to, so I was not surprised when, at the end of April, she gave up and removed them. 

I hoped she had taken them down because she was over it. But then I remembered that every spring, NWHU leaves for an entire month. I don’t know where she goes, maybe home to hell. But from the end of April to the end of May, we had a golden time. 

But as we all know, nothing gold can stay. Back to some boring details about the pool.

It turns out that the bylaws say that the WATER part of the pool has to be a minimum distance from the fence line but your pool decking can be right up against the fence. Guess where ours ended up? HA ha!

The proximity of the decking to the fence was a bit of a surprise to us too, but I think we wouldn't have worried about it if NWHU wasn't already SO FURIOUS about the pool.

I remember saying to Katr that when NWHU returned and saw the progress that had been made, she would completely lose her mind.

I...was correct.

(To be fair to NWHU, the way the pool deck was positioned along the fence, if you stand on the front edge of the pool deck, the fence is only waist high. If you wanted, you could stand on that corner and peer into her yard. This is the area we had promised to cover with privacy greenery, but I imagine that might have been hard to envision in the moment.)

Probably my favourite incident during this period was one evening when I was in the kitchen, looked out the window and saw NWHU on a ladder slowly lowering an extended measuring tape over the fence into our yard.

I opened the window and yelled "NWHU, DO YOU WANT TO JUST COME OVER TO MEASURE?" and she called back "No, this is fine!" HAHAHAHAHAHA

The next day, she took a bunch of photos over the fence and our masons called her a Karen.

Armed with her measurements and photos, NWHU called her city councillor. She called the mayor. She called the local building inspector and his boss and his boss's boss.

We received a notice from the chief inspector of the city that we were going to have to have an inspection from the city's chief bylaw officer to make sure that everything was aligned with all the permits we'd received and all the bylaws.

This was obviously stressful for a lot of reasons; shit had PROGRESSED, so now there was no way to move the pool if it turned out the fence line was not the property line (although short of getting a survey done, which she would have to pay for and we knew she wouldn't, because she's cheap, there was no way to 100% disprove that the fence line wasn't the property line and also, they built the fence around this big tree that's in both our yards, which seems like a weird thing to do if that's not the property line BUT I DIGRESS).

She also accused us of raising the grade of our yard higher than the bylaw limit of four feet. Fortunately, this wasn't an issue because we'd dug into the high part of the yard, so the pool deck was just matching the current grade of the yard.

The chief bylaw officer sent our local building inspector out to inspect the pool and report back to her. We knew this guy, because he was the same guy who had already signed off on the previous two inspections. He rolled his eyes as he described the stink that was being made at City Hall by NWHU. Apparently she was well known to them, thanks to her fighting the development that went behind us a couple of years ago. He assured us that short of hiring a lawyer to dispute where the property line was, there was nothing she could do about this pool. Because we had followed all the rules. And because we and our pool contractors are not idiots.

He wished us luck with NWHU. 

(Sidenote: in the middle of all this...Pumbaa went blind! So we were all pretty fucking stressed out.)

Once it became clear that we were not going to bow to her demands and she had no legal recourse because the city was all "this is fine", NWHU returned to her audio terrorism. We started to take videos every time she blasted her boombox at us. Although I have to say, she did switch up the radio stations frequently and I did Shazam a few good songs. 

Then one morning, just after 5:30 AM, which I happen to know is the time NWHU's son leaves for his daily sports team practice, a car alarm went off. It sounded like it was in our yard. It went off for about a minute and then shut off. Then about 15 to 20 minutes later, it went off again.

At this point, I would put nothing past NWHU. I took my phone and busted out the front door in my pyjamas and took a video of her big truck parked as closely as possible to our house with all its lights and alarms going off.

Over the course of that weekend, she set her own car alarm off seven more times, once at midnight, ripping us from sleep and filling me with so much fury, I could not get back to sleep for two hours.

I did a lot of microdosing during this period, just to keep from constantly screaming.

I thought I could do this in two parts but I was wrong, sorry, there will be a third part. Stayed tuned for the thrilling conclusion but also, here is a supercut of some of NWHU's greatest hits.

And for those following along, a 50x50 update:

Books read: 23 

Air fryer uses: 35

No-dessert days: 10 (hahahahahaha)

Vegetarian meals: 49

Meditating but not while in bed: 9

Creampuff is Pretty Sure it's Perimenopause

If you haven't been watching CBC's hilarious Baroness von Sketch Show this whole time, you are missing out.

I knew it was a show for me when I saw the sketch in the first season about how after you turn 40, it's time to stop giving a shit in the locker room at the gym.

I myself remember when that glorious shift took place; I went from being so bashful and always hoping there would be a cubicle free for modest changing to just existing fatly, out in the open. I would see the looks of horror from taut 20 somethings and think "You don't want to see it, don't look directly at it, I DON'T CONTROL YOUR EYES DENISE."

As a bonus for Katr and I, they film Baroness von Sketch in Toronto, so often we see folks we recognize, on screen and in the credits, and feel super cool for knowing them. Plus, Aurora Browne was a couple of years ahead of me in theatre school, and in the stalkerish words of Viscount Raoul de Chagny from Phantom of the Opera, "she may not remember me but I...re...mem...ber...her."

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, they posted this sketch online and it was LIKE THEY KNEW MY LIFE:

I feel like actual MENOPAUSE is something I had heard a lot about and was somewhat mentally prepared for. In fact, I remember watching an episode of The Closer where Kyra Sedgwick's character is sweating uncontrollably and she doesn't know what it is and I'm like "IT IS MENOPAUSE, YOU DIPSHIT, DUH DOI." But it's only been over the last year or so that I'd heard the term "perimenopause", much less thought about how it might be affecting my life as a woman of a certain age.

The symptoms of perimenopause seem nebulous to everyone, but I've pinpointed three key areas where I've been most affected by this preview of THE CHANGE OF LIFE.

1. Mutinous Uterus.

I never had children and I feel like these days, my uterus is punishing me for my life choices. She's like "EVERY month, I get this place ready and throw a party for the sperm and you NEVER INVITE ANY." Biologically, my uterus has to keep throwing the party but, while the party themes in the past might have been "Snuggly Puppies" or "Baby Ducklings", these days, the party themes are more like "Jackhammer of Pain" or "Machete Ballet". 

I've had the cramps on and off in my life, but nothing like the last couple of years. Day One, I might not be able to work. One time, I almost passed out and threw up simultaneously while we had company. Because of my sensitive stomach, I can't take anything stronger than Tylenol, which is basically bullshit. All I can really do is offer it up to Christ while keeping a hot Magic Bag down my sweatpants, which slithers out the leg of the pants whenever I stand up. 

2. What?

I remember seeing a Sandra Shamas show where she talked about losing her nouns in her forties and struggling to get someone to pass her the salt, which she eventually refers to as "the white shakey stuff". See, I remember THAT important detail from a show I saw in my twenties but not the conversation Katr and I just had about the errands we have to run today:

Me: So we're going to the bank, the recycle depot and the Safeway.

Katr: Yes. But we'll do the recycle depot first.

Me: Right.

Two minutes later:

Me: So we're going to the airport, the Home Depot and the textile museum.

Katr: What?

3. Fuck Everything/I'm so SAAAAAAD/Don't TOUCH ME/Where are you GOING????

That pretty much sums it up. 

One of the fun things about being a cis-gender lesbian married to another cis-gender lesbian is that your partner REALLY understands what you're going through but one of the less fun things is that YOU'RE BOTH GOING THROUGH IT, which means that at certain times of the month, it's a good thing pot brownies exist. Fortunately, because we're lesbians, we're super good at processing, so.

Anyway. Ladies. If you have any keen tips to share about how to get through this magical woman time, I am ALL EARS. Until the 10th, when I won't be able to hear you over the sound of me microwaving my Magic Bag.

 

Creampuff's Just Waiting for the FBI to Call

I joined Twitter years ago and stopped paying attention to it soon after because it seemed dumb.

But there were so many funny jokes about Trump that I got back into Twitter early in 2016 (or, as I now think of it, The Time Before) and now that everything is terrible all the time, I can't look away.

While, on the one hand, Twitter is a horrible cesspool of unpunched Nazis and abuse, there are also myriad learning opportunities when you follow different communities and it's fucking delightful.

I was already following Fat Twitter, Lesbian Twitter and Leftist Comedian Twitter, but since I got back into it, I've learned A LOT from following Black Twitter, Indigenous Twitter and Disabled Twitter.

And, for those really rough times, there's Cute Dog Twitter. 

One of my favourite things about the Twits is that sometimes, cool people you love follow you back, probably by accident. My favourite Twitterer is author Sandra Newman, whose Twitter stream is filled with amazing non sequiturs and cutting political commentary and crazy tales about her life and when SHE followed ME, I thought I might explode with sheer nerdly joy. 

 Sometimes, though, I get followed by people even more glamorous than Sandra Newman:

Pretty sure that's legit.

Anyway, this week while I was scrolling through cute dogs and voter suppression outrage, I noticed a name that was trending - "Jacob Wohl". The name sounded vaguely familiar, so I did a little clickin'.

If you missed the whole "Jacob Wohl 'masterminding' a plot to frame Robert Mueller for sexual assault thing", Colbert can help you out.

I read up on Wohl's super asstastic attempt to smear Robert Mueller and enjoyed some hilarious tweets about his extreme ineptitude  - but something about his rodentia-adjacent face also pinged my memory. HOW did I know about this guy before this whole thing happened?

OH RIGHT.

About a year ago, I tweeted something with an ironic #MAGA hashtag. But you know who doesn't always get irony? People who unironically use #MAGA hashtags. So Jacob Wohl, currently the subject of an FBI investigation for being a total dipshit, followed me on Twitter.

JEALOUS?? My friends sure were.

As I recall, it took about a week for him to unfollow me but I don't think it was because he realized I was a pinko lesbian - it was because I didn't follow him back. So FBI, if you're listening - and I know you are - I did not invite Jacob Wohl to follow me and all I know about him is that my friend Sith said he was a "notorious douche".

I'll let you guys know if I get called to testify.

In other Twitter-related news, I'm thinking about starting a Twitter-based match-making service! Because these two folks who follow me seem PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER:

Creampuff Fears the Inking

Okay, I know I said I'd see you next November but this blew my tiny mind and I had to share.

It's about tattoos.

Katr got a tattoo not long after we met. It's a very cool rune based on her initials that an artist friend designed for her. It's about two inches square and it's on her shin. I love the colours, which are still remarkably vibrant after over a decade.

About 16 years ago, before Katr and I met, I was high on a surge of empowerment and decided I was going to implement a three-prong body-modification plan: an upper ear piercing, a nose piercing and a tattoo. 

This was just the FIRST stage, understand. I had plans for MANY more piercings and tattoos, but I wanted to complete this trio first.

I began with the upper ear piercing. The piercing itself went well, but the aftercare, where I had to awkwardly lie down to soak the ear in a tea tree oil solution every night for a month, was a bit of a pain. To this day, every time I smell tea tree oil, my hand goes to my right ear. Even after all this time, I have to be careful about sleeping on my right side in case my ear gets fussy. Why not just remove the ring from my ear, you say? Well, I do still like the way it looks but also, it's still the original jewelry from 2001 because I have NO IDEA how to get it off.

I got my nostril pierced in Calgary in 2002, while visiting my friend Glst. Again, the actual piercing went well but soon after, I developed a zit-like bump on my nose that would NOT go away. People would be like "Heeeey, nice nose pi---oh."

I thought about taking the stud out, but was paranoid that the hole would close over in the interim and I knew that I'd never be able to poke a fresh nose hole. Fortunately, a friend of mine at the time, Subr, told me that the same thing had happened to her when she got HER nose pierced and that it eventually went away. She was right...my giant growth finally receded and it's been fine ever since.

One of my favourite things about my nose piercing is that, even though I've had it for 15 years, every time I see my aunt Lisi, she asks me if it's new. EVERY. TIME. I SEE HER.

Aunt Lisi: Ooh, I like your (gestures to nose stud), is it new?

Me: Uh...Yes.

Aunt Lisi: Wow. Did it hurt?

Me: A little.

The thing is that my aunt Lisi is pretty deadpan and I honestly don't know if this is just a running joke for her and she kills herself laughing about it behind my back every time, or if she thinks I'm swapping out my nose studs for fancier nose studs or if she is legit delighted anew by my nose piercing every time we see each other, but you know, I don't want to know, because it's our special thing.

After my first two body-modification projects were so fraught, I waited on the tattoo until 2005, the eve of my 30th birthday. My friend Jeba's friend Spha had cool tattoos in white ink and that's what I wanted - just a simple, white ink tattoo of a spiral, because I was really feeling my goddess self. I wanted in on the fleshy part of my inner upper arm, next to one of my oldest and largest X-acto knife scars. Katr took me to the tattoo place.

Before getting my tattoo, I thought some things about myself:

1. I have a high pain threshold.
   
   
2.  I was at LEAST as butch as Katr, who got her multi-coloured tattoo without complaint.

It turns out that these two things are untrue. My high pain threshold only applies to me causing pain to MYSELF. When other people are doing it TO me, I DO NOT CARE FOR IT. And while Katr made it through a two hour session with only a grimace to indicate her discomfort, MY tattoo artist had to:

1. Stop not once, but TWICE during the 20 minute tattooing process to "give me a break".
   
   
2. Open the door at the back of the shop to let the cool night breeze in so that I didn't pass out.
   
   
3. Give me a lollypop. It was red.

All plans for further tattoos and piercings were abandoned that night. I think tattoos are hot and I'm SUPER JEALOUS of my friends' elaborate and gorgeous tattoos but I have accepted that I will never have Gina Torres in her Firefly outfit tattooed on my back because I can't, due to being a total wuss.

This all came rushing back to me last week when a friend of mine on Facebook (and I don't know which of you it was), was "interested" in an "event near me" and so I checked it out and it was this: a local tattoo shop, Rain City Tattoo, was having its annual Mystery Box event, where patrons pay $80, pull a random tattoo design out of a box and then HAVE IT TATTOOED ON THEIR BODY.

At first I thought "Oh, that's cool, a little tattoo, like a star or something!" but no. This is some serious shit. Here is a screenshot of one they did last year:

I am FASCINATED that this is a thing. If I did ever get another tattoo, it would take me AGES to decide on the design and the location. And these people are like "Fuck it, let's put this...(pulls from Mystery Box) BUZZARD on my body! Today!". 

I am in total awe of these folks. Kudos to them and their high pain thresholds and their available skin real estate and their trust in the Mystery Box. I hope you all got the pull of your dreams last weekend.

And hey, if I do ever face the needle again, I have a PRETTY good idea of what to get:

Creampuff Learns that Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Even though marriage is supposed to make you one flesh, sometimes you still disagree on what food to order in for dinner.

Every now and then, Katr has a strong craving for sushi. While I enjoy sushi, it's not my favourite meal. So sometimes, when Katr wants to order sushi and I am not recovering from a stomach explosion, I will seek my dinner elsewhere. Somewhere...dirtier. And that somewhere is...the A&W.

I don't eat a lot of fast food in general, but I am disgusting and enjoy it when I have it. We have two fast food joints within very easy walking distance (i.e. too close to feel that walking to get the fast food in any way mitigates the eating of the fast food). I would get McDonalds more often if Big Macs didn't trigger a condition I like to call "persistent ass hose". A&W is the lesser of the local evils and you can get a root beer float!

So one fine evening, Katr shared her strong urge for sushi and I, excited to have an excuse for onion rings, beetled off to the Dub.

It was a beautiful night and a few people were firing up their grills, so there was a lovely woodsmoke smell in the neighbourhood as I headed home, clutching my dirty dinner.

Usually I time things so that I arrive home with my hot garbage at the same time Katr's sushi is delivered but this time, I arrived home before the sushi man. I wanted my food to stay warm, so I put the bag in the warming drawer in the oven and turned the drawer on to "Low".

As we waited for the sushi to arrive, I noticed that the subtle smell of woodsmoke had drifted through the open window and mentioned it to Katr, who breathed deeply in appreciation.

A few minutes later, the smoke smell was...a little stronger.

"Hmm," I said to Katr, "I guess maybe the neighbours have jumped on the grill bandwagon."

"Well," Katr said, "they're out of town until next week, so..."

"Oh," I said. Then turned to look at the warming drawer. "You don't think..."

Katr went over and opened the warming drawer. And then stood back as a TOWER OF FLAME rose from my burning dinner. It was a real Backdraft moment.

 An aside: all this time, I thought the flame was in the oven proper and warm AIR was all that blew into the warming drawer. Apparently not. Apparently, the warming drawer has an open flame in it, you guys. And you what what burns real good? Yeah, it's paper.

As a pyrophobic, my first instinct was to abandon the house IMMEDIATELY. We had a good run! Adios, casa!

Katr, on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber.

"Hand me the lid from that pot," she said calmly as I rocketed fatly around, opening doors and fanning under the ultra-sensitive smoke detector, "and maybe a damp cloth."

I handed her the lid and then was like, "How wet should the cloth be? Should I get the hose and just flood the whole kitchen?"

Katr, getting the fire under control, "Not too wet, baby. I'm TRYING TO SAVE YOUR DINNER [EMPHASIS MINE]."

After a few dicey seconds of lidding the fire, Katr managed to not only keep the conflagration from consuming our home, but also save my Teen Burger Combo.

It tasted deliciously of campfire.

I like to think that I'm "good in a crisis", but I'm just not. You know who is? The woman who married me. THANK FUCK.

Katr - I love you and your calm response to fire. NEVER LEAVE ME. 

 

Creampuff Encouragement

Sometimes as an artiste, it's easy to get discouraged when your artistic endeavours are less successful than you would like. You send out your work several times a year to places that often do not even confirm receipt. You get rejected over and over again for that grant or that theatre season or that workshop you're dying to be a part of. You start to doubt whether your stuff is any good and you wonder if you should just not bother at all.

And then...you see this trailer.

For a movie.

That is real.

I suppose that a trailer like this could fill you with rage that someone spent actual money making this.

But I choose to take the glass half full approach. Which is that if total garbage like this can get made, with KRIS FUCKIN' KRISTOFFERSON as the voice of the ghost dog, then there is hope for ALL of us. ALL OF US!!!!!!!

Thank you, Best Friend from Heaven. THANK YOU.

 

Creampuff Enjoys a White Christmas. And New Year. And Right Now.

I love the snow. Growing up in Edmonton, you'd think I'd effing hate it, since the snow ruined many a Hallowe'en and occasionally Easter or Victoria Day and once, the Fringe (which is in August). But, like Lorelei Gilmore, my love affair with snow is ardent and few things give me that queer, down there sort of thrill like the sight of fat snowflakes swirling through the air.

Since we moved to Vancouver, my snow love has intensified because:

A) It rarely snows here - MAYBE once or twice a year.

B) The snow never stays, so you get to have a beautiful, fluffy snowly couple of hours with zero consequences.

Last year, just as an example, it snowed TWICE the whole year and nothing stayed.

This year...was different. 

The first day it snowed, I took Effie to Trout Lake off-leash park in the pre-dawn hours, so that she could experience her first snow run. She did not disappoint. It was magical and I loved it.

 

Look at that light powdering of snow! We were so innocent then.

A week later, the original snow hadn't really melted and it snowed yet again. We went back to Trout Lake, where Effie met a new friend.

Right before this photo was taken, Effie ran out on to the barely frozen lake to chase some ducks while I screamed bloody murder from the shore, certain that today was the day the dog and I would both drown in disgusting Trout Lake. You'll notice that in the photo, SOMEONE IS NO LONGER OFF LEASH.

The Shoebox Project was still happening through all of this and we started to get worried that people delivering their shoeboxes filled with holiday cheer to our house would fall down and sue us. But we didn't have a shovel and snow salt was sold out alllll over town. Fortunately, our neighbour Syvo had 1/3 of a bag of salt left over FROM HER MOVE FROM TORONTO and between that and her snow shovel, we and our neighbours were collectively able to at least clear our sidewalk. A good lesson for you hoarders out there - you MIGHT use that road salt from Toronto, so definitely hang on to it.

We were snow-free for several days but it was too cold to melt much, so while sidewalks started to clear off, the curbs were still icy as fuck - and our favourite off-leash park, Everett Crowley, was like a frickin' skating rink. "It's a good core workout!" exclaimed Drtr on Christmas Day, as we paused on our walk to contemplate which route would be less likely to lead to falling down and dying. Predictably, Effie loved it.

 

 

#sharpeisofinstagram #sharpeilife #dogsofvancouver #dogsofinstagram #whitechristmas #frothypuppy

A photo posted by Drew Trgovac (@bravegeography) on Dec 25, 2016 at 10:37pm PST

For a week after Christmas, it was warmer and rained a little, so on New Year's Eve morning, I took the dog back to the same park, figuring that a week of warmth and rain would have broken down the ice to acceptable levels. NOT THE CASE. Not shown: any photos, because I was solo this time and was concentrating super hard on not slipping into a ravine.

It turns out it was smart to hit the park on New Year's Eve in the a.m., because in the p.m., it started to snow AGAIN. Big, beautiful, fat flakes of snow. Fucking up our clean sidewalk. Drtr went out and shoveled in the last of the daylight and then we watched in dismay as the snow continued for four more hours, obliterating his good work. It was super slushy but it was supposed to freeze and road salt is still sold out all over town. So on New Year's Day, we took all the the bath salts that people donated to the Shoebox Project (no bathtubs in shelters, gang) and sprinkled them on the frozen slush that is our sidewalk. And then a few hours later, our valiant neighbours busted up the ice with Syvo's shovel and now the whole block smells like fucking Lush.

It's supposed to snow again on Friday.

The last time we had this kind of snow was waaaay back in 2009 and it was much the same. No one saw it coming, NO ONE did anything about it and walking the dog was nearly impossible because every sidewalk was an icy sheet of death. My mom didn't believe me that it was actually that bad, so on the way home from Solstice that year, I made her this video.

 

I don't blame my Mom for being skeptical, as Victoria looked like this over the holidays.

TL;DR Happy New Year, it snowed more than usual and I still love snow but I would give my left nut for some road salt.

Creampuff Meets a Very Important Deadline

My erstwhile roommate Skip LOVED Star Wars and when the newly remastered original trilogy came out in theatres, we went the first weekend. I was excited too but I didn't realize that Skip had NEVER seen Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back or Return of the Jedi in the theatre - she'd only seen them on VHS at home. 

"So wait," I said to her, "so you watched them all at once? Like, back to back?"

"Oh yeah," she said, "like a marathon!"

"So you're telling me that, unlike the rest of us, you didn't have to wait those agonizing three years between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi to see what happened to Han??"

"Oh, no way. I don't think I could have handled it! HOW DID YOU HANDLE IT?"

The answer was that I was 8, so I had a lot of other things on my mind, but I always felt like she'd cheated a little, watching all three movies at once without having to weather the fallow periods between like the rest of us did, wondering what happened to Captain Solo and growing your hair out so that you could do Cloud City Leia hair. I felt pretty superior in my suffering, is what I'm saying.

All this to say that I feel like a pretty big hypocrite, because last night, we finished the final season of the Gilmore Girls, literally the day before the new Netflix mini-series that TRUE Gilmore Girls fans have been waiting for since 2007. HA ha!

Sorry guys. And sorry, Skip.

As I mentioned in my earlier Gilmore Girls post, Katr did not get on the GG bandwagon with me. She felt that the characters got too yell-y about things that were dumb and that people on the show made stupid choices. So, for the first few seasons, I generally watched Gilmore Girls by myself. But as time went on and my ardour didn't fade, Katr would occasionally join me on the couch of a Sunday afternoon (doing stuff on her iPad, of course) and she would occasionally chuckle. Sometimes, when I had watched an episode without her, she would ask what had happened in Stars Hollow.

Sensing that she may eventually be drawn in to the charms of Stars Hollow, I played it cool, as one would with a skittish horse; never pushing my Gilmore Girls agenda too hard but suggesting it occasionally. And while she never truly LOVED the show as I did, she tolerated more and more episodes as the Netflix event drew nigh.

And then, last night, she (and Drtr) spent the entire last two episodes of the series quietly weeping. VINDICATED.

 After we finished the series and had our cry, we watched the trailers and a featurette about the new Gilmore Girls and I do not think I was the ONLY one on the couch who was excited.

We all had to work today and after making Katr and Drtr watch 6 episodes of GG in two days, I don't know if they're going to be down to clown in Stars Hollow tonight. But that's okay. I can wait. OR CAN I??

BE COOL, RORO. BE COOL.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying gentle, spoilery tidbits I'm seeing on the Twitter.

I loved Jess even when he was a little shit & everyone hated him. That he's grown up to become a voice of reason? Perfect. #GilmoreGirls

— kaitlin thomas (@thekaitling) November 25, 2016

What I am hearing you say is Logan is still around and Paris is still not gay?!???!!?

— Heather Hogan (@theheatherhogan) November 25, 2016

The most amazing thing about @GilmoreGirls is that Emily held on to one maid for a whole year. #GilmoreGirls #GilmoreGirlsRevival

— Giuliana Carr (@GiulsCarr) November 25, 2016

Have you guys watched it yet? Is it good? Just tell me if it's good! No spoilers!

Tiny Babies in Knitted Hats are Comforting

Like some of you, me and my current 2/3 American-born household were fervently and optimistically hoping for a different outcome in yesterday's election.

As shit started to get super real last night, we all decided to go to bed before the final tallying was done, in the hopes that somehow there would be a miracle in the night.

Woke up to the official news about President Elect Trump on the radio this morning and I thought "I'm pretty sure this is how The Handmaid's Tale starts."

HAHAHAHAHAHA shitballs.

Fortunately, we had our emotional support shar pei nearby through the night. She was pretty jazzed to get up on the big bed. 

And while we will probably spend today crying over Hillary's concession speech and eating our feelings, one must remember that life goes on and people are good and there are adorable babies. Why, here's one now! He's sleeping off the election.

I knitted this hat for the sweet bebe of some lovely nearby friends who have TOTALLY BETRAYED US by announcing recently that they are moving back to New York in January. WHAT?? COME ON!! This note from tiny Hath Chevan's mom did, however, soften the blow:

Roro!  Thank you for your knitted hat!  It looks really good on Hath, I love it.  He must like it too because he cries when we try to put other hats on him but he doesn't with yours :)  

Hahahahahahahaha, well played, Cach. WELL PLAYED. If you decide to stay put in Vancouver, that'd be cool too, just sayin'.

My lovely friend Wenders and her wife welcomed a tiny bebe last winter, for whom I also knit a tiny hat and I'm JUST NOW getting around to posting a picture. This kid starts college in the fall.

I've never met Wenders in person but she's a long time internet friend and she lives in America. She was out canvassing  yesterday, trying to get out the vote for Hillary - but she also posted this on her FB page, which I loved:

Because she is delightful, Wenders is working on a project to collect 1 million stories about small acts of kindness. You can share your own stories on Twitter or Instagram by using the tag #microkindness and definitely follow the MicroKindness project on Instagram and Twitter Because couldn't we all use a little more booze kindness today and going forward? INDEED.

Creampuff Wonders How We're All Going to Get Through Today

Even if you're pretty sure you're going to spend the whole U.S. election day crying anyway, it's important to have a coping strategy in place.

Here is ours.

Thanks to Katr and Drtr of A Bitter Spirit fame, we have enough booze to get us through tonight, tomorrow,  the inevitable recount in Florida, the controversial Supreme Court decision and the nuclear winter that follows. LET'S DO THIS, AMERICA!!