vampire proof

I have been eating a lot of garlic lately and since have become aware of its health benefits but I now find myself wondering if it's possible that I am consuming too much of it. It all just happened that one day I realized that I easily eat a head of roasted garlic a day. That does not include any raw garlic in things like salsa and whatnot that I maw down on quite frequently. So, too much? I can't really tell but I think I might have a slight garlicky odor to to me now. Has anyone else noticed this on me? The worst part is that I don't think I'm going to be able to curb my intake. I really, really like roasted garlic. A lot. It pretty much goes with anything you want to eat. Salad, pasta, oatmeal whatever.

hell in a hand basket

Gardening. I'm really into it and this year since I have full access to a yard I am going to really give it my all. I recently got a book on the practical side to gardening in Canada and am now in the process of earmarking pages and drawing up schematics. All I can say is that provided I can get some of the more vigorous weeds out of the garden we are going to have the choicest spot on the block. I really cannot wait for spring and all the plant buying and installing and whatnot. If anyone has any useful tips, tools or time feel free to stop by and get your hands dirty with me.

summer of george

A couple weeks ago I realized that 2009 is going to be my year. My Year people. The year that things start really turning around for me. Not that things have been all that bad in years past but this is going to be the one that is a little extra awesome. I can feel it in my heart. I need to feel it. I tell myself that it is just a coincidence that my spike in coffee intake and the rapid flutter of my heart began around the same time. So to jump start 2009 I put myself on lock down. From now until sometime in May or possibly even June I will be spending every evening at home getting acquainted with new books and planning the summer garden. I am doing this in an attempt to get the recklessness of my early twenties under control by means of paying off debts and allowing my liver time to recover for the summer.

This is so far working out pretty well since I work everyday and live with four friends whose company will inevitably see me through this somewhat delicate antisocial undertaking. So, should you want to get together to make a pie or have tea or just shoot the shit, come on over. We can watch movies or start building plots for the vegetable garden or rebuild the tree fort. Its going to be a great year.

the dump

So this past Sunday two of my house mates and I took spring cleaning to heart and rented ourselves a 14 foot cube van to rid our backyard of, among other things, three couches, three large puffy chairs, and curiously three past due Christmas trees. Now, you may be wondering why in the heat of March would we have three Christmas trees still hanging around our front yard for all the world to see? One of those trees was our Charlie Brown tree and I will take full responsibility for throwing it off the front porch on the 31st of December and promptly leaving it where it fell. However, one Kurtis Wilson took it upon himself to schlep the largest Christmas tree that could possibly fit into a modest middle class home, into our yard to rest along side our original tree. Then some unknown party goer added to the misadventure with a third, though drastically smaller tree.

And so there we were cramming three of everything into the ample rental truck (which will here by be known as the big rig). As it turns out if you think you got a big enough truck, you did not. That god damned tree with its trunk the diameter of a dinner plate put up quite the struggle. The three of us counting to three and heaving and hoeing until we were knee deep in pine needles just barely got the beast restrained behind the heavy van door.

After that it was off to the South Vancouver Transfer Station, just a simple drive to the bottom of Main St. You can imagine our surprise when upon arrival we were told there was some kind of spill and us and the big rig were going to have to go a little further afield. But spirits were high and we set off for The Delta Landfill soaked in optimism. There was a slight mishap regarding the directions and some very poorly labeled highway markers and we took a brief foray into Richmond. Thanks to iPhone and it's GPS capabilities we found ourselves at our destination after an hour or so. In retrospect all we really needed to do on the last leg of the journey was to follow all of the seagulls and occasional eagle to the dumping grounds.

There is a disgusting, horrifying beauty that this place embodies and I am now of the mind set that everyone must go there for themselves. Along the dirt road leading to the dumping site is a line of trees that have all taken on a blackish hue. Their bare branches have caught plastic bags and scraps of fabric that all move with the breeze lending to the image of a post-apocalyptic war zone. These garbage trees are outer worldly to say the least. Opposite the blackened forest lays the large hill of what turned out to be solely garbage. And atop every fence and light post leading to the top of the hill sat a large bald eagle. There were hundreds of birds. Plenty of seagulls to be sure but I have never seen so many eagles in all my life. Driving along the top of garbage mountain the ground was barely visible because of all the seagulls and so driving seemed more like being caught in the air and suspended by the wings of the birds passing by.

Go to the dump. Its a trip.