On the upside I am a beast if you piss me off. No more tears, just instant rage. Must be fun to not be me right now.

It's a little bit cooler today. Rain mixed with sunny periods and a little bit of cloudiness and it's only seventeen degrees still which makes me exceedingly happy. 

This is perfect weather. I am definitely an East Coast girl. Everyone talks about the rain here but honestly it makes me feel safe and cozy. As long as I don't have to drive at night in it I am good. 

We are supposed to be at a music festival this week but we are not. It's outside. Might go for a bit tonight. Didn't really think it through when the tickets came out and shouldn't have gotten them but FOMO was big back then and we jumped to do something, anything, like pre-Covid times. 

Things are so different now. 

My mind races ahead and then turns and lags, distracted by nothing of consequence. Ben says that the chemical lobotomy must mimic his brain injury as he can't settle, can't focus but then ends up down a rabbit hole of nothing in particular. Worst of all is the endless apathy. I used to care so deeply about everything and now I feel like I care about so little. I fret and wrung and reeled and ached in my fearfulness and now I'm courageous in every instance without blinking. It's so strange. It's such a small amount too, as the doctors say most people are on five times this amount. But at the same time it's way too much and there has to be a switch I can turn to dial up the peace when I need it and be present when I want to be. 

You don't want those kinds of drugs, trust me. This is frustrating but better. Ben is watchful, adamant. 

I know. My reply noncommittal. It's just-

You don't.

Friday benign information of no regard.

Today I closed my Air Miles and my Sephora accounts. Neither does me any favours and the end of a twenty-year era is upon us. The one thing I am not is a digital pack rat and so I always delete/close/clean up all traces as I go. 

Also I scrambled my MEC information online since the membership will never go away without a lot of hoops. 

Air Miles doesn't have any affiliated shops that I use and I won't shop online through their portal so nevermind and Sephora has been on a downhill train forever. It was so fun while it lasted but after a while I realized I like drugstore products better and the costs were astronomical plus half was Ruth buying Kat Von D crazy lipstick colours back in the day so that ship has long sailed into the sunset and I just don't go there anymore. 

Three new spots in my wallet, I guess. I will spread out my vaccination cards or something. I'm not a rewards collector unless it's very good. Right now the only good one seems to be PC points. I actually shopped there last week for the big shop and got a lot for my seven-hundred-dollar haul. Their carts need to be larger tho. We had two and probably could have used a third. 

(If you hate this post, know that I do as well. We can both blame the Devil.)

 It's hot again so I am inside, a slave to air conditioning even though the roar of it makes me mental. Even the quietest ones are so loud. I have decided people who say No worries are psychopaths. I have decided ASMR toys from my childhood will heal all kinds of trauma. This morning I took a bath and went through at least eighty percent of the hot water in the house before I realized the silver knob wasn't seated in the drain correctly and then I fixed it and just had enough boiling water to lobster myself up to my neck before it turned to cold again. 

I have decided most people are full of shit and just trying to appear capable. I have decided sugar isn't actually so bad and that people who walk their dogs on people's outer lawns or boulevards are nosey and stupid. 

And I have decided that today I am cranky and therefore I am the problem.

News from 'the home'.

Placated today with chocolate and a running commentary about the brief and comical pseudo-feud on Twitter between the Eiffel Tower and the Empire State Building over my latest obsession, Ateez. It was funny to read and even funnier to hear Duncan chuckle as he read the whole thing out loud to me from his account while I ate a bagel with my own homemade raspberry jam from last year, since we didn't have any bread and also since I haven't been arsed to make any jam yet this year. There's no rush. I've been diligently freezing berries as they are picked and so we will be able to make it whenever we damn well please.

I was also exceedingly well-prepared and have jars lined up, lids and pectin. Usually pectin is hard to find by now but I bought it in June in anticipation of a good crop and a good crop we have had. It's hard to keep the boys from eating what they pick so trust me, this is a good amount. 

I don't think I'm moving to Sweden any time soon. Lochlan said ghosts don't have passports and drown in the ocean when the person they are haunting flies too far forever and that horrified me enough to drop the idea. Maybe years from now when my ghosts die of old age which will be interesting because they're already dead and sometimes they are young and sometimes even older than I remember but I think that will happen when I begin to forget about them and honestly I can't wait, though I have this vision of being a combative old lady who doesn't remember my boys except for brief flashes and now I'm breaking my own damn heart too. 

Even though I am almost the youngest here, as it were. 

I'm going to go up the road with a bowl in a little while to get blackberries. That can be a free for all bowl since I never make blackberry jam. It's too seedy and too rich. Not even sure I like jam all that much truth be told. I like cheese on my toast. Actually I like marshmallow fluff on my toast, but my diet is going to see me go down a deadly road of sins, Willy Wonka style. I eat too much sugar and I know it. I did stop buying cereal and so ditched the sugar bowl and the milk in the process. No one puts that stuff in their coffee and if someone reallllly wants cereral they can go next door to Daniel and Schuyler's and choose from about eight different kinds. 

Ruth was the cereal fiend in the house and she has lots of it in her new house. 

I'm good here with all the chocolate, coupled with apologies and a lot of promises. They hated doing the lobotomy and really love that there are still flashes of Bridget in here somewhere. Like reverse Alzheimers, I guess.

I am looking at properties in Sweden so I can be a hermit by the water and never talk to anyone again. It's easy enough to get, but if I hate it the capital gains taxes when you sell are very high, though they can be offset to some extent and can help mitigate that hit to the wallet. 

The boys are reluctant. 

Who said you're all going too? I yell in response.

Pom poms and gin.

 It's a perfect afternoon. Twenty degrees and clouds are rolling in with the rain set to start after supper. Lochlan just brought me a gin and tonic and last week he bought me a pink pen with a huge pink pompom on it. I am starting to think about making chicken sandwiches and salad for the actual meal and then I want to put on a scary movie to start and watch some each day until it's done. This is the calm between storms? Had to go out late last night and run errands. Have to get up scarily early tomorrow for an appointment so instead of helping to mow the lawn I'm just enjoying this small window of peace before dinner prep with Dalton and Duncan begins. 

I know we persist in doing family meals at least five nights a week because why not? We're all family and people eat better and are happier when they can sit around a table en masse and share the weights and burdens, maybe share a laugh too. It works. Or I'm drunk. Not sure how much gin is in this drink. I didn't even think we had any left, frankly so it's a nice surprise. 

Hope the rain starts soon. Hope I start remembering I'm supposed to post too. These pills are the lobotomy I wanted and now hate, but it's so much better than everything else so far. And that's a lot to admit.

Everyone's gay today.

Pride weekend is wrapping up here. Holy cow. So hot. So tired. A little heat exhaustion, a lot of glitter, mostly in parts I am surprised to still find any, and a lot of colourful moments that I will remember forever. Nice to be there, nice to be here, though here on the point every weekend is Pride weekend and the glitter is always plentiful. 

And food grade, as always, because we are not monsters. 

Well, we are but not in the way you would think.

I'm going to spend the next few days rehydrating, resting up and probably testing positive for Covid or Monkey Pox, I haven't decided which, and deal with the sunburn I got. I might fill the hottub with aloe gel and just stay there. 

It was so fun though. A lot different this year as we didn't go so hard, mostly because Ben is different now. He's not big on the heat and he gets overstimulated in crowds which is a far cry from how he used to be but we figured it out and mostly stayed on the fringe. Which in itself is ironic. 

I'm glad the heatwave ends tonight though. I'm melted to a puddle of fairy dust at this point and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Burning man might possibly be next. I need a do--over on that anyway.

A good scream.

Pure decadence today, my friends. Coffee and a early swim in the pool and then did a few light chores against the coming heat before making screamers. Screamers are slush puppies with ice cream on top and they're not bad, though I was happiest when the ice cream was gone and I just had slushie ice. Mine was vanilla ice cream with lemon lime slush. We made them in our snoopy sno-cone machine and then used the soft ice cream machine at Daniel and Schuyler's to finish them off. So good. Then we had a long nap in the camper. Me and Lochlan, with all the doors wide open but a stick of Indian Temple incense lit on the counter to ward off any sun-loving mosquitos. Now we have to figure out dinner but I think someone's going to Dairy Queen to get it so maybe I don't have to think too hard. 

Perfect.

What. This. Is.

Let me just...

Ugh.

The most expensive house in Canada was just listed for a cool thirty-nine million dollars in Whistler. Whistler is a little over an hour north of Point Perdition here, and we spend a lot of time there. The boys love the mountains, and since the trade off is that we live next to the ocean I indulge them and go with them whenever they are so moved. 

But this fucking house. (Not ours, the one for sale.)

Behold!

The one thing I hate about rich people is that almost every last one of them hands off the major design elements to an architect and they all end up with a wacky minimalist midcentury modern stark-ass nightmare of a home in the end. 

It's a freaking abomination. Especially the write up. The part that first grabbed my attention, after an article in the Vancouver Sun quoted from the listing agent who said "Some wealthy people have seen the house and understand what this is."

The fuck, dude. The pretension. In the next sentence he breathlessly compares Whistler to Aspen.

And then there are the word-dump thesaurus adjectives. Everything is impressive or stunning. They go on and on about this forty-foot granite fireplace that I was expecting to be a stunner, but it looks like that backsplash false half-brick adhesive you get from home depot to pretend you own an exposed brick wall (I love that shit). This looks like the end side of a drugstore. The 'light cannons' (I know, WTF, they're the most ugliest skylights ever) are in the way of the damn view and honestly the whole thing looks like a generic West Coast resort for small groups or clubs that don't want a ton of privacy or anything that might distract from their bonding exercises. The infinity pool looks like the walkway Magneto rolled out on in X-Men.

It's TERRIBLE. And like so many things out here, completely overrated, both in design and execution. 

LIGHT. CANNONS. 

Also that floating staircase is going to kill someone. 

***

On the upside, Stonebridge is a quiet neighbourhood ten months out of the year, and the kitchen is lovely.

Cows.

I hate the heat. HATE IT. I'm melting before my own eyes, now limpid opal pools of pale green and blunted pastel turquoise. 

Want to go for ice cream? The Devil craves the heat of the asphalt, and the roar of his car. 

No, it's too hot. I refuse to put on additional clothing or stick to the warm leather seats. Not today, Satan. I have a freezer full of ice cream in the garage anyway. At least I think I do. PJ and I compete for who has the biggest sweet tooth of the Collective, and so I usually go looking and find the shelves empty.