Feb. 20th, 2010

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 I've been home for about four weeks now and have somewhat moved past the initial whalloping of jet lag and reverse culture shock and seasonal greyness despair. I've sort of cleared out my old bedroom and sort of separated my former incarnations into piles to keep and piles to throw on the pyre (or rather, into the recycle bin or into the Salvation Army donations bag). I've stocked up on tins of chipotle peppers and underpants that fit and sandals for summer. I've had my bangs cut in an awesome way and my eyebrows threaded into a less angry arch. I found three pairs of fab stripy knee highs and two pairs of truly awesome striped/blocked tights that actually fit (medium! me! medium not gargantuan!). I've caught up (mostly) with the people I actually have something to say to.  I've swung on many swings with the hootin' and hollerin'  and finger-pointin' baby and walked with cousin and wolf and said baby on many long seaside walks.  I've logged in many insatiably curious hours dragging and dropping odd and obscure recipes from websites into my new Mac's fabulous recipe app. I'm looking into doing a lot of experimental pickling and windowsill fermenting this spring.  I've been thinking a lot on my walks and during my readings and trying out future plans for size in my brain. Because, the thing is, Shanghai makes me feel so adrift and so sad. This may have come across in my posts over the past few months. The city itself is objectively pretty much alright with some really nifty bits thrown in- I plan to continue my 101 Nifty Things theme over on wordpress when I get back (see sticky, above)- but for whatever reason, the overall experience leaves me feeling hollow and pointless. Ergo, the Yaramaz Quest for a Fucking Point.



Some thoughts. 

Emerging from long tea-ful conversations with Waycho, I'm totally stoked on the idea of getting goats and moving up island and camping out on our acreage in Cowichan, making all sorts of cheeses and starting an artisanal chevre atelier. It'll be the Shanghai Number 1 Model Goat Product Factory (Foreign division). Ha! But seriously, cheese. Yeah.  

Also revisiting my long held desire to teach myself to play the banjo- seriously. Not Deliverance-stylings but rather like the Wellington International Ukelele Orchestra or like this chick (see above and below) who rework all sorts of previously awesome songs in their own way. I think it's really, really amazing.

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March 2010

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