575.

And the fog became God.

I've taken quite a number of beautiful photos this month. Mmm, tasty summer lighting.

Let's see. I head back to work on Sunday (already, I KNOW). I need to make lots of money because I got absolutely fucked over by the government. Did I mention that? It's quite a funny story that involves me crying and losing lots of money.

Never mind, that's not funny.

Darryl leaves on Wednesday which troubles me to no end. What in hell did I do before he came home? Will someone take his place as my tennis buddy? Actually scratch that, I could use a break from tennis for awhile. How about a crafting and Weeds watching buddy? Hrmmm?

I don't know if I have friends anymore. Hah. Well you're reading this, I CLAIM YOU. Loser.

I like this song, this song and this song. Now you do too!

Where were we...

Supa-pa troupa-pa.

I have been listening to so much ABBA lately it's not even fit. Every song speaks to me in a way that only disco era music from Sweden can.

I went to see the pretty animals yesterday! AND IT WAS FREE. Man, I love Newfoundland. I took (and labeled) lots of picture for you. :) It was in Salmonier Line in case you ever feel like visiting it for yourself (it's free!).

I was most excited to see the owls and the pine marten. Owls cause I love owls (OOKPIK!) and pine martens because I'm pretty sure I've never seen an alive one and they'll all be dead by the time I get around to taking my [improbable] kids to this place.

Happy love for all!

Let's drink to the military.

Recognize those two?

First day of holidays! YEEHAW. I slept. And crafted. And watched Weeds. And crafted. And ate. And slept. Mmm, sure sounds like holidays.

They called me into to work this morning, and I was like "uhh, I'm on holidays." and she was all "just making sure!" Just making sure that I'm still on holidays? Yeah, okay.

I have bought so much crafting stuff lately that I feel sick. I NEED TO PAY FOR RIDICULOUSLY OVERPRICED TEXTBOOKS. NOT PUNCHERS THAT MAKE THE CORNERS OF MY PAPER ROUND AND SCRAPBOOKING PAPER THAT LOOKS LIKE IT WAS RIPPED OFF AN OLD LADY'S COUCH.

Seriously though, that paper is bitchin'.

Fakery.

I have to work tonight. 11pm-7am. The twins make me feel better about myself, thanks you two. :)

My brother and I watched the entire first season of Weeds today (not very hard considering it's only ten twenty-two minute episodes). I think I'll buy the second season sometime next week.

I can do that sort of stuff as I'll be on "vacation". I took a week off. I deserve it. Maybe you'll find me in your part of the woods, who knows!

While driving to work yesterday morning (at 6:22am) two assholes walked in front of my car even though I had the green and they had the no walk. It took a couple of seconds to realize they were Kyle Kendall and Alex douche bag from Leah's grade. At 6:30 on a Thursday morning. It was the light on my street, I hope they don't live around here.

Apparently skeetsville spans this entire city.

He went crazy at nineteen.

Listening to this song a few times before I head to work in hopes of getting it stuck in my head. I cannot handle another day of the catchy I-kissed-a-girl-and-I-OHMYGODSHUTUPFACE. Seriously.

And now I'm gone to serve coffee to the undeserving masses.

Enjoy.

Guess Who.

I spent last Saturday with the most beautiful (inside and out!) person I know. Can you guess whooo?

If you guessed Ro-yn, you guessed right! We fed the duckies in the rain. We ate mountains of breakfast (our favourite meal). We played Pictionary and Guess Who. We went to the Dollarama (duh) and Starbucks (double duh). We exchanged our super special baby. We shared love and hugs and tears and laughs and gasps and sighs and laughs and laughs and laughs.

We only took a few pictures, but I did get a lot of video. Including the late night musical chaos that ensued. Don't try to understand it. Just let it be.

Pretty lady.

I have this hot friend who celebrated her 19th birthday a couple of days ago. And I kind of didn't give her a happy birthday on here. Or anywhere.

It wasn't because I had forgotten her birthday. I just never know what the date is. And yesterday I realized it was the fifteenth. And that means I have skulked into that category of "belated birthday wishers". It sucks on this side of the fence.

So in hopes of gaining back some ground, I am here to wish a Miss Leah Burt a lovely belated birthday. And now when you come back to me in September we can do things like go to 19+ bar shows and see old high school chums strip at the Cotton Club. Exciting!

I also owe you a birthday drink. Preferably something pretty looking and exciting if you wouldn't mind. :)

I love you, Leah.

Wicka-wicka.

I'm going to make more of an effort to post here lots and lots.

It's weird, I want to record my day to day happenings so that in the future I can look back and be like "oh, that's what I was feeling my first year of university/when my pop died/meeting new bffz etc." But I absolutely despise looking at older entries because I feel my writing is pathetic and my pictures even more so.

Stop being a player hater, Sarah Smith.

500th POST, SHOWER YOUR LOVEEE.

For my ladies.

Fre-fre.

Forgive my lack of absence from this blog and life, but I have been enjoying time with my brother who is down for the month of June!

I miss all of you and will semi-promptly respond to any e-mails and messages you wish to send saying how much you love and miss me too. :)

P.S. I am so not that much taller than my brother. I'm standing on the stoop.

P.P.S. This picture is the first picture we've been in together since he was in college. Mercy!

Come and see.

Abide with me.

I didn’t cry. Not really.

The surprising reasoning behind this would be that the whole thing seemed so unreal.

Somehow I became responsible for leading my grandmother into the church behind the coffin. I wore a skirt, it was beautiful and bought especially for the occasion.

My Nan wept through all of it. And I could handle that, even though I spent most of the service trying to remember if I had ever seen her cry before.

Expecting an old priest/pastor/reverent (whatever the Anglican Church has), I was visibly shocked to see a Dallas Green incarnate minus the tattoos (I kid you not). He had a great speaking voice but I found him to be spooky in his flow-y robes.

As soon as it began I felt like I was acting in a play.

My grandmother, a fellow actor, pretending to sob on my arm. An empty green coffin in front of us. The deep sound of the church bell ringing as we descended down the aisle with the priest/pastor/reverent chanting as we walked.

I began to chew visibly on the peppermint gum in my mouth, something I never do in public. Something I always do when I’m apprehensive.

I wouldn’t visit my grandfather before they closed the coffin. I knew if I did I would forever picture him in that box instead of fishing or chopping wood or fixing us tea or starting a fire in the woodstove or taking me grocery shopping or to Mary Browns or whatever.

Despite all of this, I took comfort in the coffin that sat directly to my left. Something about knowing he was there. So when they picked it up to bring it outside and into the Hearst I momentarily lost it.

This could also be due to the fact that my grandmother went from weeping to great big heaving sobs.

I removed my arm and gently pushed her towards my Dad who had just deposited the only dad he had really ever known into the back of the long car. I couldn’t really deal, you know? I’m ill-equipped.

I made my Mom collect all of the leftover programs to give to me. She asked me why I wanted them. I don’t really know.

I didn’t go to the graveyard. We sang the graveside hymn in church since it was raining and thundering and foggy. Plus my shoes were unsuitable. Plus my grandfather was getting put in the ground.

I was the first to leave Little Harbour. I wanted to get back to St. John’s to meet Darryl at the airport. His flight had been delayed and he missed the funeral after all of the hooplah to try and get home in time.

When passing the graveyard on the way to the highway I saw that they almost had him entirely buried already.

I ached for my Poppy White’s big jittery hug in that single moment.

P.S. Thanks everyone for all your help and words and calls and messages and stickers and love and prayers. Seriously.