k_bluebird's Xanga

Birth day

Mon, 27 Oct 2008 08:19:03 GMT

I painted my fingernails this weird torquoise color.

I'm thinking of you, Michelle! It seems like something you would've liked back in the day (and maybe now?).

house, stuff

Sun, 28 Sep 2008 09:04:07 GMT

So, I want this house. It's a house-y house, and it has rooms and stuff. You know, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, the works. It has a yard, too.

Yup, it's pretty much a house. And I'm pretty much hoping real bad that we get approved for the mortgage.

Now here is a diabetic cake for you:

Now I don't know about you all, but my flexpens aren't that short & fat. Actually, we don't even have the damn novolog pens in Canada. Now I use this gold-plated $90 contraption to inject myself with life-saving goodness. And by life-saving, I mean OHMYGOSHTHEREAREICECREAMBARS.

productive

Mon, 22 Sep 2008 20:36:47 GMT

Accomplished today:

1. Submitted form for police check (for volunteering at the church)

2. Deposited cash/checks at the bank

3. Took bottles/newspapers to the recycling depot

4. Picked up newly repaired bike

5. Mailed letter to Mum & Dad

6. Called realtor about looking at a house

7. IN PROGRESS: laundry

yearbook

Mon, 22 Sep 2008 00:39:21 GMT

I bought some Skittles at Michael's, and S doesn't know it. Shhh...

Addendum: I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT IT IS NOT ME IN THOSE PHOTOS.

6 months

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 08:06:22 GMT

I'm sick, catch my drift? The drift being that I'm sick.

Yesterday (the 17th) was S's and my 6-month anniversary. Not especially impressive, I know, but reason enough for an Irish jig, maybe.

My brother is randomly moving to Amsterdam for a year. I hope he's not gonna become one of those window prostitutes.

sickly

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 02:07:56 GMT

prairie

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 08:21:06 GMT

Driving back from Calgary after dropping my mom off at the airport (I cried), I was confronted with endless prairie. Prairies are strange; I'd never really encountered one until I came to Canada, though I'd read about them in books. Authors describe them in such ambivalent terms, and now I see why.

I love the golden grass and how the sunlight hits the sloping terrain so that it illuminates the creases, like velvet fabric held up to a light. It was alive, untouchable, but still it melted into the sky and gave the impression of stagnance. It deadened the mind, and made me feel a little claustrophobic, like I was driving down a road through a golden land that never ended. One of those mammoth farmer's picking machines rolled through some fields and sent a cloud of chaff floating up into the air. But it had nowhere to go, and soon settled back down.

reformat

Mon, 15 Sep 2008 07:59:49 GMT

Why are guys always doing stupid things like reinstalling Windows and formatting hard drives? I swear it always leads to trouble, and now my desktop icons aren't there anymore and I find myself wandering in a dark abyss of cake-encrusted file folders as I brush the cobwebs off of My Documents and dilapidated e-mails.

But I made lemon drop cookies today, and they were delicious. Sweet, sweet diabetic death.

LOOK!! LOOK!! LOOK!!

Sun, 14 Sep 2008 03:19:50 GMT

Went shopping with Mum and Mummy-in-law. It felt surreal—I like having both of them around. I feel safer when my mom is nearby. She still drives me a little nutty, but it's been a very pleasant visit, so far. Anyway, I got a photo album and some odds & ends from Michael's. It's time for S and I to bust out all the old digital photos and begin organizing them into family albums. We're our own little family, isn't that weird? We've only known each other a little over a year, but we have hundreds upon hundreds of photographic documentation to sort.

Mummy-in-law & I found a 50% off coupon in the paper when we got home, and I'm going back to Michael's tomorrow to get a four piece owl stamp set. I love owls. And robots (I got two robot cutouts to stick on our bedroom walls). I also like skulls, birds, windchimes, gnomes, and hoodies.

all right

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 11:28:06 GMT

The hard rock guardian never had a chance, you know.

Incurable romantics never do.