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Some things you need to do while you’re feeling strong, things that will help you when weakness prevails.
-While pouring leftover butter rum sauce down the sink.


The word of the day: Infundibulum.  Makes me think of a doddering old man who rambles on about things.  It turns out it’s what attaches your hypothalamus to your pituitary gland in your brain.  But really now: infundibulum?  Who named it that (Sure, the Latin root means a funnel, but still)

This weekend is the start of fleet week here in the San Francisco.  It’s also Thanksgiving weekend back in Canada.  I will be making pumpkin pie and watching bits of the air show.

Today, the Blue Angels (like our Snow Birds) are doing circle loops of the city to say hello.

They’ll be practicing tomorrow, then Saturday is the big show.  I’m hoping to catch bits of it from home like I’m doing today.  I keep trying to snap a picture of them flying by, but so far I haven’t been fast enough.

Some of you may know, I’ve been trying to get myself an ITIN.  It’s like a social security number, except it means I can’t work, but still have to pay taxes.  I want one because it means I can open a savings account.  But when I went to the IRS today (after finally getting my paperwork together), they say that I *still* can’t get one until I file my taxes.  Ridiculous.  I don’t even know if I will be able to file taxes because I CAN’T OPEN A SAVINGS ACCOUNT WITHOUT THE STUPID NUMBER!  It’s a ridiculous catch 22 that pisses me off to no end.

Dear America,

Why won’t you let me earn some interest on my money so that I can pay you taxes?

I didn’t think this would be so hard.



Les sighs.

Once upon a time, there was a blog called Learning to Garden.  The girl who wrote her stories there and posted her pictures liked the outdoors.  She lived with her Prince Charming in the basement of their house and had a lovely back yard.  There were a lot of things she didn’t know and a lot of things she was willing to try.

Then she moved to San Francisco.  Away from what she knew, to an apartment with a back yard garden in which she had a tiny place to plant things and encourage them to grow.  The weather was different, the seasons had different lengths.  The girl had no idea how to make things grow well here.

Eventually, the girl made friends.  One friend said to her “You’re just like Snow White.  I bet the birds even come and dress you in the morning!”  People were amazed at the things the girl was willing to do herself.  It wasn’t just gardening anymore.  It was cooking and making things and going places and trying so many new things that were here in this city that is so much bigger than the old little neighbourhood.

A change was needed.  The girl needed to stop writing stories only about gardening.  In the back of her head, she said: Learning to Garden isn’t the only thing I’m learning to do!  Time for a new name!

And so here we are.  A fresh start.

Welcome to Fairy Tales of the City.