Thursday, May 21, 2009

Life and death: On a tiny scale

What a week. Mrs. Lucky and I have been busy here at the homestead tending to the somewhat irresponsible actions of Tsili. After finding fame on the big white sheet hung from the rafters she chose a path typical of the child star celebutant and, as a recourse to this lifestyle, got knocked up.

As a new mother she was a little negligent, wondering around in a stupor and eating very little. She ended up with an infection and fever and was unable to care for the kittens (as kittens eat only milk and shit only milk and enzymes, when they are not cared for the smell like ripe cheese. I found this a little gross, but I think Mrs. Lucky was olfactorily whisked back to her homeland). There were some late nights with tiny bottle and kitten formula and lots of tiny meows and in the end... AWWWWWWW!

Tsili + D'amour: Family unit

I will never be the same after all I've done and seen. Despite what one wants and what "should be" we had to see two little ones of to the big tit in the sky. RIP Vincent and Danzig. You will be missed. One of the lesson's I learned was not to name your kittens until they are out of the woods, it makes it even harder to take if things don't go well.

Let's celebrate the life that is springing up everywhere, for it is fleeting. Bike lanes on the other hand are pretty permanent once they're down. Monkeytownians are taking to the streets en masse.
A much better cause than fishing legislation rally's: Critical Bass

There is some debate as too the weight of the benefit vs safety risk/bad publicity in the public eye. We only get the bad reports from large Metro centres and I'm sure the folks on bikes and the folks they will be assertively sharing the road with will be perfectly civilized. That's what's nice about living where I do. People are pretty damned tolerant... to your face. I fully support this Critical Mass Rally and hope the attend and you should, too. Escape from the Red Planet and I hope to attend at the end of May. People on bikes. What could possibly go wrong.

But, what about until then? Well, there's a 5 hr lactic train chugging it's way through Woolastook Park, that's what. Get Rheal let me out of our contract and I'll be going solo in the single speed category. As my Grandfather used to say, "A verbal contract isn't worth the paper it's written on." Tina and I will be acting as the bar car. Actually, I think this train is going to be more of a Festival Express, than a one of those speedy European jobs.

With Clydesdale cat it could be more of a gravy train. Mmmmm, poooooutiiiine. I'm super pumped for this event, and now I'm super pumped about the nastiness I'm going to eat afterward.

On culinary note, I've been trying out a few restaurants in the GFA (Greater Fredericton Atrocity) and have stumbled upon some total travesties of taste and common sense, but the diamond in the rough is Cedars on York, as I call it. Tasty, authentic Lebanese at a very good price. Yusef, owner and operator prepares your take-out style meal right there for you. The kefta wrap (food + w(rap)=fantastic) is truly magic in the mouth.

Go see the Star trek moving and go early. I had to sit so close I though it was called "TAR TRE". It was every sort of awesome coated radical. Like cinematic bridge mix, without those gross nougat ones. I'm no trekkie, but it was the best since Wrathe of Kahn.

Live long and prosper and in honor of Vincent and Danzig I offer you this; the duo inspiration for their names.



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