Avoiding Homework

It's the end of the month, so that can mean only one thing - cram as many photos as possible onto Flickr before they take away my free bandwidth. It doesn't roll over so I should probably do that today. It's amazing actually what I will do to avoid homework.

Of course, it's also the end of the year so Happy New Year and all that. Personally, I'd like to close the book on 2008 and just forget it. There were some highlights: Foxy - she's come a long way, and a second trip to Japan to give Mr. K his annual progress report. It was the first one for us, so I think he was lenient. Next year, maybe not so much. Lowlights: Pretty much everything else in between. Just slogging away, trying to get a little further ahead.

Bob came by yesterday with the gifts we didn't get a Christmas. We kinda knew what we were getting, and I'm pleased with the gift. We got some vases, with a bit of an Indian design to them. They are too narrow to have around the house with a toddler. Bob knows we have a kid, right? Just checking. We've had to put them away until she gets bigger. Foxy got lots of toys, and until I could find the off switch we all sang the ABC song about 50 times.

Got some more chocolate from Randy and Kat, and some coffee beans. That gave me a reason to go out and buy a coffee grinder. On the same trip, I popped by my favourite liquor store - union staff but without union hours - and picked up that bottle of Louis Roederer. The clerk was surprised when I asked him about the blackout the other day. He didn't recognize me because I wasn't wearing my fancy interviewing clothes. I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Anyway, he's a nice guy and any time I want something I just have to call ahead and he'll put it aside for me. What a guy! He also told me that Roederer is the same company that makes Cristal. Apparently, I'm the last person to learn this. We got some Brut Premier, but that Cristal trivia made me wonder if I would ever by from Roederer again. We'll see how this bottle tastes and then decide.

For some reason, Ali got it in her head that that bottle of Clicquot we drank on Christmas Eve while we ate KFC cost $200.00. Who would pay $200.00 for a bottle of champagne just to waste it on KFC? A Japanese guy would do it, according to Ali. Okay, I might have said the bottle cost $200.00 because you can buy a $200.00 bottle of Veuve Clicquot if you really must, but I'm pretty sure I told her the truth as soon as we sat down to dinner. I have no idea why she still had that number in her head five days later.

I went down to the local last night to relax after a rather difficult assignment, expecting it to be very quiet. I would be able to share recipes with the waitress, and other neat stuff. The place was stacked to the rafters, and that particular waitress was too busy mixing drinks to look people in the face. I ended up taking my two pints to the overflow area. The bar has a restaurant section that operates under a different name, and they close early so when the bar gets crazy the patrons seeking solitude can sneak into the restaurant. I ended up sitting too near a group. My lethal ears - you know, the ones that nearly got me shanked a few years ago - overheard some really juicy tidbits. There was some guy blabbing to his associates and anybody else who would listen about something, and he was quite obviously lying to impress them. Listening to this guy made me a little angry. It wasn't just a few drinks with friends, he was bucking for a job, and lying about his past experiences isn't very nice. I wanted to ask him some questions to embarrass him in front of his potential clients, but I thought better of it. I ordered a third pint, and tried to drown out his lies. I suppose I could have just moved to another part of the bar.

The walk home was fun. A lot of drug dealers asked me if I wanted rock, whatever that is. Even the drug dealer who couldn't speak English. "Hey, amigo. ¿Estás buscando rrrrrrrock?" I thought it was funny how he rolled his r. But then I started to think about the very first book I read without pictures. Night of the Werewolf, by Frank W. Dixon. A Hardy Boys mystery. I don't know why boys read those books. They are poorly written.

I came home and watched part of Blame it on Río. I used to get Joseph Bologna and Alex Rocco mixed up a lot when I was a kid. Then I saw The Godfather and I never confused the two again.