It’s 3:30am and my brother’s asleep on my couch, my nephew’s crashed in my bed, and snow is everywhere.
Vancouver has had a once-in-half-a-century snowfall. Come a couple hours from now they’ll be measuring at the airport, and weather guys think we’ll be “blowing apart” the record set 45 years ago for the most snow ever on Christmas. This snowy street shot was taken just before 10am on Christmas Eve day. It snowed for another eight hours, mostly real, real hard, after that.
We likely won’t be seeing the family on Christmas Day. We might do our Christmas one night next week, instead. More suspense about gifts.
But that’s okay. Christmas shouldn’t have to remain one day of the year. And it shouldn’t be just about gifts.
Anyhow. I wish everyone a little peace this Christmas. And if you’re alone this holiday season, here’s hoping you’re enjoying it despite yourself.
The photos I’ve shared here are both from my neighbourhood. The snowy street is of the 2+feet that was on the ground one Christmas eve morning, and the snowy sunrise taken after our first big dump of snow, from my balcony, three or four days ago.
I love the miracle of snow. 🙂

As of today — meaning, before the turkey and gravy and decadence and having family stay with me and all that — I have lost 60 pounds. 60!
I had to squint. See, I use this 1950s scale that was my mom’s and my grandma’s before her. Don’t knock it, it’s as accurate as the doctor’s office. You go spend your $90 on your digital thingie with its bells and whistles and bullshit, I’m fine with this guy.
‘Cos I’ve lost 60 pounds! YAY! From 275 down to 215. 🙂
Bring on 2009, ‘cos I’m gonna kick its ass too! YEAH, BABY.

I really wanted to write on the weekend, and I don’t know why I’ve not been able to get into the mood of it. I’ve been exhausted, overworked, stretched too thin, all of that. I’m in a good mood, so I’m not depressed or anything. I’m just sort of being a Steff-of-all-things for everybody else that I’ve got too little of me left for me these days, and I guess writing would mean I’d have even less left. Sometimes, the curtains pulled, lights down low, doors locked, and calendar free, and nothing accomplished, well, it all adds up to saving a bit of yourself when it doesn’t seem you’ve got much of it left.
It certainly doesn’t do much to help the blog out, now, does it?
That’s just the way the existential cookie crumbles, though. Yesterday was my accomplish-nothing day, and fuck I loved it.
Now here it is, 9 minutes to 9, and I should be on the bus to Adiosville and work, but instead I’ve foolishly begun to blog. I guess this is how it begins. The “I shouldn’t, but I will” posting cracks the veneer of protectiveness that develops when you stop posting daily or whatever, and slowly I get back into the mode. I want to blog, it’s the doing-of-it that’s the problem. Life just has different ideas. Normally I have enough flexibility in my schedule I can bump things and stay home to write no matter when the urge hits. Not these days. Continue reading →

Hi, world.
I’ve been swirling in overtime for two weeks now, and there’s a huge relief that swelled inside me when I woke up on this Friday morning and realized two things: One, I slept well. Two, I’ve survived this week.
Survival, Darwin would tell you, is achieved only by the fittest. These days, I don’t particularly feel that’s a crowd I’ve been keeping up with. But I’m getting there!
Wednesday night was nice, my bosses got into a “Gee, Steff, you’re looking so hip these days!” round of compliments when I wore my cute new top that day. Continue reading →

I want to write. I do. I want to sit here and cut deep into literary myself and have it all spill out in glorious crimson verbosity. I want that. More than anything.
I haven’t felt able to connect with writing lately. When life becomes hard and I have to grit my teeth to get through it, there’s a certain point at which I mentally flick off so that I won’t delve too deeply into what I presume is a morass of adversity. Why go there when life itself is enough of a struggle on a daily basis?
A friend and I, embroiled in latenight wine and pondering years ago, surmised that my failings in writing fiction — as I had been trying my hand at long form and assessed that my shortcomings came from my inability to create the conflict needed to propel my story — came from the fact that my life was entirely filled with conflict, so the creation of any more, even fictional, was just too much for my inner editor.
This is how I protect myself. It’s how I’ve always protected myself. Walls. Non-load-bearing walls, merely aesthetic ones I can install, move, and remove at will. Continue reading →

Got my period. Cramps. Grr.
The good news is, last month I was in end-of-the-world agony with my period, as it’s the worst thing to get with a blown back. But this month? It’s just your typical cramps. Which means I’m just your typical cunt right now. Your typical cunt with a vastly improved back, doing laundry and watching news. Yay?
Here’s a great old-school graphic I found that sums everything up nicely. You may put my martini on the table, slave. Spank, spank. Thanks for playing.

Today is brought to me in part by the letter A for “Anxiety” and the letter O for “Oy!”
Oh, where to begin. Well, I took the last half of last week off in the hopes of healing Ze Gimpy Back some more… even though it meant opening a short-term disability claim that I won’t see a dime of until the end of the year and makes it highly questionable I’ll both be able to pay rent AND buy food for the next three weeks. But if you can’t work, you can’t work.
My website is still in limbo, hanging there in cyberspace, and it turns out somehow the server co got the memo that I wanted to CANCEL “smutandsteff.com”, so now there’s another kerfuffle to iron out before all this is resolved.
My back, unfortunately, is still wonky, mildly better than it was, but we’ll see what a week of sitting on it does. I’m returning to work tomorrow not because I’m ready for it, but because finances dictate that I must, whether short-term disability will eventually come my way or not. I can’t wait until Christmas for money; rent is due in less than a week. Continue reading →

Because,
no matter how “recovered” a Catholic
we may become,
we always believe
we must atone for our sins.