Never fear! I have not joined the ranks of those who are quitting blogging. I have just been insanely busy this week, and apparently spectacularly dull, as well. I will return to the keyboard soon, I promise! After all, I wouldn't want to dissapoint my trio of readers. ;)

Oh yes, and for those who are concerned, Mr. Monkey is on the mend, and should be home soon!

Woohoo!!! Nothing like an unexpected 4 1/2 day weekend! I work in a gift shop in a small mall located on the main floor of a large government building. Wednesday, a pipe in the cooling system broke, causing an antifreeze spill. Somehow, during the course of cleaning it up, a large amount of antifreeze was flushed into the buildings water supply. Enough so that the water coming out of the taps was a slightly blue colour. Yesterday morning, they discovered the problem, and evacuated the building. We closed early, and this morning I found out we are closed today and Saturday, so no work for me. I don't think I have had Victoria Day weekend off in ages. It will be kinda fun!

Yeah, so I was a goth in high school. I wore the standard uniform of unrelieved black and a pair of Doc Marten's. I listened to Nine Inch Nails, The Smiths, and My Life With The Thrill Kill Cult. I adopted the appropriately cynical attitude, and danced in cages in industrial clubs, clad in PVC hot pants.

Then I had my membership revoked for having an unnatural affection for the colour yellow. Oh, the horror!

A line from an Ani DiFranco song keeps running through my head these days. I suppose it is oddly appropriate, seeing as I cannot remember why I thought it was so appropriate in the first place.

they say goldfish have no memory
I guess their lives are much like mine
and the little plastic castle
is a surprise every time

What a busy weekend! The Tulip Festival started this weekend. Tang and I went to see Great Big Sea on Friday night. They were great, although it was incredibly cold outside. In a six degrees of separation moment, Tang's old roommate, Kathleen Edwards, was the opening act. In an "only in Canada" moment, they continually interrupted the shows in order to update everyone on the Ottawa/Toronto hockey game. The cheers when Ottawa won rivaled the cheers for the band.

My Mom and stepfather had an art show open this weekend, so on Saturday I went and checked it out. Their work is fabulous as always. If you haven't already, check it out at Touch of Sky Studio.Then we went to the Tulip Festival again, this time to see Sarah Harmer. The weather was thankfully a little nicer, and the show was really good. The people bundled in their winter jackets and ordering alcoholic slushies kinda scared me though. A hot toddy would have been more appropriate, I think.

Mother's Day, I went out for lunch with my Mom and Grandma, and then went to the hospital to visit with my Grandpa. He is doing much, much better. They moved him out of ICU, and Sunday he was using a walker to go up and down his room while declaring that he was ready to go home now. He isn't big on this mandatory confinment thing. :P While I was gone, my new (well, new to us, anyways) refrigerator was delivered! Yay! A seperate freezer, wohoo! Sad, isn't it, how excited I get over kitchen appliances? It's a sickness.

The issue of personal responsibility keeps coming up again and again everywhere I turn, in real life and online. It boggles my mind that so many people seem to have abdicated all responsibility for their lives and happiness, and are so quick to lay blame. It's fate's fault, or their mother's, or husband's, or the evil bloggers. The bag boy at the grocery store probably has it in for you, too. Then there is the delightful irony of watching the very same people laying blame for how the act and react at the feet of other people, telling those same other people that they should control how they act and react so those who have no control can feel better. So, for those who feel they must lay the blame for their personal happiness on everybody else's doorstep, I say:

Own your shit. Hug it, love it, take it home and call it George.

You know, I never watch hockey. Until the Olympics men's final, I had never watched a game on television before. Now, it's almost midnight, and I am still watching the Ottawa/Toronto game! I think I am becoming one of those hockey people. Oh my.

It seems I spoke too soon. Early Wednesday morning, Grandpa started bleeding, and they couldn't get it to stop. He was also having problems with his heart. So now, he is in ICU, heavily sedated, and we wait.

And wait.

And wait.