More on that, never.

"Omigod! It's sooo amazing to see you again!! No, no...YOU look amazing - this old thing? Just an overall sense of well-being I haven't had the chance to wear anywhere lately..."
It's been more than a hot-minute, a few tepid split shifts lets say. I (Rats) re-located and plan to dazzle you with more dazzling...uh, stuff - from a new locale. Monkey still holds the original M&R HQ down, while myself and my dependents have moved to a place where...

a) the body map featured above
is making more and more sense everyday
b) you can't turn right on a red (and let me tell you - I am implying a multitude of things right there.)
c) YOU can get drunk on bevy's from the corner store
d) everyone is a rock star
e) sandwich meat is real 'spensive

But enough about me...HA HA, YEAH Right! Christmas is right around the corner. Aren't you excited? I am. I really like Christmas. I like snow and I like it when I can hear Bing Crosby on the radio even if it is the same song over and over. I like seeing couples walking in the snow together. I like the smell of alive pine in my house and I also like making gifts....you'll be hearing more about that in the near future.
For now "you stic dat een yer bumpar sticker to smoke it la"
I'm so glad you've taken me back - I will never leave you again, I swore.

What began with potpourri.

1 Tbsp. cinnamon
7-10 whole cloves
1 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. nutmeg
4 cups water

Put all the ingredients in a small saucepan and simmer on Low heat for 30-60 min. Voila! Your home should smell great. Also a good idea -if you have the essential oil burners (rings) that sit atop a light bulb, you can fill them with this concoction when you run out of oils. Brilliant!

Baking is another way to make your home smell good -especially loaves and muffins. Invest in a breadmaker, it just makes scents. Ha! But seriously, it has saved me at least $45/mo. on bread, baked goods and pasta. Plus, they can make preserves, too.

Speaking of useful kitchen gadgets, a slow-cooker is a poor, working, mothers' best friend next to the television (we've all been there, let's not pretend anyone of us doesn't pay the cable company to babysit every now and then). You throw handfuls of whatever you've got into the cooker and turn it on. By the end of your workday, you've got a hot meal that'll serve 4-8.

Most rice cookers will also steam vegetables... and a food dehydrator can make yogurt...

When I was 5 my mom and dad took me downtown for a day of window shopping and local tourism. We would often find ourselves downtown on warm summer days, just for the hell of it. On this particular day, however, we passed a couple of vagrant youth panhandling for change outside of the Much Music building. This couple, a girl and boy in their mid-late teens and dressed to the hilt in punk-rock attire; complete with large, colourful, Knox gelatin chelsea & mohawk, army issue combat boots and studded leather abound, caught my attention and the attention of my father when they asked him if he could spare them some change. I wanted him to give them some money but, my dad, he refused them with visible disgust and contempt. Whilst I was being dragged away from the boy began to follow us, on all fours, barking wildly like a rabid dog -the girl laughing histarically. And then, he cursed us. He said, "It'll be your kid someday" before fading into the horizon with the afternoon sun.
I thought about them for some time after that. I was caught in the grip of the sight of two people who looked like nothing I had ever seen before. And I knew I wanted to dress up in their clothes and try on their looks.
Fast forward:
I am 15. I listen to punk music and dress wierd. My hair is a multitude of colours and lengths. I have been asked to leave my group home and try things out with my parents once again. It doesn't work out and I find myself downtown. On the corner, kids fitting my description are washing car windows for petty cash. I am home.

I have been told that one should not romanticize life on the street; it's no picnic. I have shared living accomodations with murderers, crackheads and junkies, theives, perverts and drug pushers. I have slept in parks, under bridges, on sidewalks and in an assortment of condemned buildings without heat, running water or electricity. I have had to scavenge for food in filthy dumpsters and live off of other peoples generousity and waste -whichever came first. I smoked cigarette butts found on the pavement and dropped acid and PCP to shelter myself against the cold. I lost all sense of time and space and, I'll admit, I enjoyed it. I know that's not what you want to hear. You want to hear how awful it was (and it was pretty awful). You want to hear me say that I regret living my life that way. You want to hear that I was raped, ravaged, used and abused (and I was). You want me to apologize for taking advantage of people's charity and welfare and snorting it up my nose or injecting it into my veins, for wasting away my talents, my academic career, my childhood. I can't do that. I am in love with the idea that what I had to go through has made me a better daughter, sister, mother and lover today. If I didn't romantacize it, I would not have survived it. If I didn't live it, I would not know the meaning of nessecity and invention and honour among thieves. There's always something. I learned that anything can be patched, sewn, fixed and altered with safety pins, duct tape, vaseline, and dental floss. I learned that a single tree branch and a heavy blanket can be shelter enough from a storm and a door to keep the wind and snow out. I learned that a dog is a nomads best friend. I learned how to administer injections and what to do in the event of an overdose. I learned that I am strong, hearty, and capable of anything. I won't go back, and I don't wish anyone to be there, but I won't apologize for having been there, either. I dunno, criticize me all you want but I am in love with the outlet I have found in order to be creatively free and inspired and humbled, truly humbled. I am in love with the notion that I have found a niche somewhere in this great wide universe that enables me to feel comfortable in the knowledge that so long as I surround myself with positive things I can be happy just living my life.

In a way, I believe that my curse was also my blessing, and my best friends are the ones I made in those dark and lonely places.

Peasant Food & Gypsy Pot

It has been some time since Rats and I abandoned our blog spot and the box spring project. Truth be told the box spring has long ago been returned to the earth, ne'er to be resurrected as a trellis or a book frame. Our blog, on the other hand, is back -at least, from this monkey's perspective, and my first order of business is to post a terrific peasant dish that I have recently stumbled upon.
GYPSY POT is a fantastic meal consisting of common ingredients in uncommon union. Bring 8 cups of chicken stock to a boil, cover and simmer on low heat. In a large stockpot, or Dutch oven, add 2 14-oz. cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained, 2 large carrots, peeled and cut into chunks, 1 butternut squash, peeled and cut into bite-size chunks, 2 slightly under-ripe Anjou pears , peeled, cored and cut into bite-size chunks, salt & pepper to taste, and the hot chicken stock. Bring to a boil; simmer 20 minutes, or until squash and carrots are cooked through. In the meantime, in a skillet, saute 2 Tbsp. garlic, minced, and a handful of almonds (about 1/4 cup) in 3 Tbsp. olive oil. Reserving the leftover oil in the pan, transfer the garlic and almonds to a food processor or blender and blend until smooth. Add to soup. Add 1 large onion, diced, and 1 tsp. sweet paprika to the oil in the skillet and saute until soft. Add 1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes and cook until soft. Add to soup. To finish, add 1 8-oz. package of rice noodles or tofu noodles (shirataki), a pinch of saffron, steeped for 15 minutes in 1/4 cup hot chicken stock, 2 tsp. red wine vinegar. When noodles are hot, season again with salt & pepper to taste, and stir in fresh mint leaves, chopped.
*NUTRITION ESTIMATE, FOR THOSE WHO CARE ABOUT SUCH THINGS
Per Serving: 134 Cal (22% from Fat, 14% from Protein, 64% from Carb); 5 g Protein; 3 g Tot Fat; 0 g Sat Fat; 23 g Carb; 5 g Fiber; NetCarb 18; 54 mg Calcium; 1 mg Iron; 519 mg Sodium; 0 mg Cholesterol
Being that I am increasingly poor, I have developed a fondness for so-called "peasant food" and will continue to post recipes of this nature, pics, and fun food facts for the frugal, as well as the occassional banter. Peace out!

Listening to X and SEETHING....

What the fuck is wrong with you people? Seriously.
See this little rat here, well I have a bit of an unfortunate condition. I love and I love a lot. I am admittedly not the best at displaying some of the behavior people expect to receive from a rat in love, but what would you rather? A rat that will always love you and be there for you, try to do the best by you? Or a rat that will comfort you in really superficial ways and lead you to believe you are not accountable for the pain she incurs by proxy because of all your self-inflicted bullshit?
I know many of you think I am a preachy annoying little rat. I have been rightfully called self-righteous more than once. This missive will probably receive the same evaluation, but I am so furious, frustrated, angry, disappointed, sad and protective right now that I want people to read this and apply it to specifically my current/potential friendship or acquaintance with them .
I want to make a request and I hope all who read this can get something out of it. Could anyone whom I interact with do me a favor?
If you like many people have an inclination to make really irresponsible and irrational decisions just to maybe spice up your life with some super spicy drama, stop fucking doing that. Don't you see the havoc it creates in the lives around you? How can you exact a massacre and then request that victims of said massacre help you cope with the emotional and mental chaos you are suffering because you were an irresponsible douche? Do you not see how absurd and destructive that is?
This rat has a lot of baggage. Like a fucking lot. Do you ever see people transporting crab shells or produce on those little vespas in the Carribean? You can't even see the person maning the vehicle because there's this 5' by 5' foot mass orbiting them? Well, that is the visual representation of the baggage I carry around. Guess what? I can't hide it, not one bit - it's all around me hanging out all over the place. If I spend the time to get to know you you'll see it in the first few moments, that massive battered string of emotional fuck clanking and clamouring around me. Maybe it's because I can't standto be in a room with you and 3 other people for more than 20 mins, maybe it's because I told you what I was "really thinking", maybe it's becuase you've known me for more than oh, lets say a month but you'll see it there plain as uglymorningafteronenightstand day.
You can see that on me, and yeah like does attract like. This rat is doing her best to lock herself away from the public so as not to meet new ones. Maybe even get to where I can maintain the amount of like it has attracted to a managable number. But Christ on a crutch, if your whole schtik is drama after heartache, after overdose, after fight, after DRAAAAAMMMMA - just please, go away. You are right this rats life was once that but that was a long time ago. Every once and awhile I make a boneheaded move too. But that's not the mainstay of my life, trauma is no longer how the timeline of my life is marked. I aim to keep it that way...
Please, if you want me to love you. If you want to reap the benefits of my little rat freindship? Knock all that shit off. Jesus, just do it for yourself.
And if you can't, then just go away. Harsh, yes. Are you reading this going is she talking about me? I'm not even gonna lie - maybe I am. I wouldn't be putting this into a public forum if it was directed at one person only, right? But shouldn't YOU know that? I mean if your life is as above described then this little request for reprieve from exposure to that shitshow can't be your biggest problem.
I guess that's about it, oh and I can't wait to see you again!!! I've got the newest, juiciest gossip - you'll just never believe who diedliedcriedstarvedshotupsmokedcrackcheatedstolebeatdownbeatupsworegotsickgotcleanlostthierkidlostthierdogeatadick......XOXOXO... BARF.

Edit: I am also no longer on my medication.

Your attention span has got nothing on my indecicevness

Howdy Dear Internet Readers!!!!


***Berst A Ball: MUSIC!!!!

In case you didn't know Rats LOVES music!!! In spite of this rats near crippling fear of everything, music is the one thing that makes her crawl out of the safe places she spends her days/nights to the crowds and subsequent emotional hysteria that you humans display during musical events.

The first of Rats' musical adventures as of late was Willie Nelson. He played Massey Hall a bit ago with Ray Price who's voice is like delicous melty butter with brown sugar and bourban, for real.
They had another guy open for them who was all over the news. I admit to being impressed that said individual had their penis in the worlds sexiest whatever but, well...
IF you are trying to establish yourself as a musician after already having been recognized and lauded internationally for another vocation, then do that. Play music, don't bore me by defending yourself for 20 minutes of your set. On the upside of that Stuart Daniel Baker was part of Billy Bob "boring the fuck out me"'s back-up band. I know him as Unknown Hinson and he rules.
Wille has nothing to prove to nobody. He will sing and play as Johnny Cash did, to his grave. He knows his well respected place in musical history is established , but he is hard working and gracious enough to play on for folks (like me) in his later years. Thanks Willie.
Whether or not you should go see him (ticket prices ain't cheap)? It depends on what you expect out of Willie. This isn't the mid-seventies. The wild recklessness of the red-haired stranger doesn't define his onstage persona. It still exists in a different way : a change of lyric during one song "Mama don't let your cowboys grow up to be babies." implied (to me at least) his personal apprehension/distaste for the cowboys of today or tomorrow.I hear that Willie!!!
Yet, if you are interested in the mechanics and style of guitar playing - the man plays like very few others -that alone is a sight to see...also a sight to see is Willie singing his songs with the voice he has now, not 30 years ago.He still hits all the right spots, though the notes maybe different.

Next up was Nomeansno
This is the way that goes:

Reasons I Love Nomeansno: 1. They shred 2. They are very fucking old and do nothing to hide that, do nothing to apologize for that and are honestly a few folks that make being old in all it's facets look like the bestest thing ever. 3. They dedicate songs including lyrics about child molestation (please read ) to today's irresponsible and arrogant CEO's, which puts the destruction/devatstation of self-indulgence into a horrifying but accurate comparison. 4. They have Potty Umbrella as thier opening act. First time I ever heard of these guys. Ican't say they are a new favourite, maybe in time. But they put on a hell of a show and have convinced me ending your set with an electro/punk cover of "Higher Ground" is the only way to do it really....
I am really tired now, or maybe just having lil bit of an anxious moment, but that's what I got for now. Soon come: Update on moremusicmeplayinglivemusicmakingyourowngranolabarsandbreadhowmuchcouldawoodchuckchuckifourmotherseverreallygaveafuckpeaceratsOUT.


***secretlinktoninjasonikwiththeknotthec

One of them there days

These things we put so much energy into can seem so pointless at times. There are days when I feel utterly helpless and everything I do -write, sketch, whatever, serves no purpose. For all the analysis, criticism, thought and care we put into the this stuff, it's just a dumb hobby. Nothing I ever wrote, or art I created has stopped a neighbourhood from being sold out, or a friend from dying, or a shit law from being passed. Those are the days when punk shows generate fights and gossip. These are the days that no one means anything they say. Ever have one of them days?

Though sometimes I can't help but feel I am doing a good thing. Maybe even if nothing amazing comes from the things I create, I am living like I wanted to in the first place -like I've already won. Damn! I just don't know how to say it.
Even on those great days though, kids are starving, guns are being bought with money from cocaine harvested by wage slaves serving under a dictator put into power in some third world country to monitor the economic interests of a much larger, whiter, industrialized nation -a nation which keeps its people busy with meaningless shit jobs to keep the illusion of prosperity under capitalism intact!
Er, yeah... ever have one of them days?

Apple Crumb Cookies

Ingredients:
1/2 cup unsalted butter
50 mL brown sugar
50 mL white sugar
2 mL baking soda
1 ripened banana
1 cup flour
5 mL vanilla
1/2 cup julienned dried apricots

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Farenheit.
2. In a large bowl, mash together butter, banana, vanilla and apricots. Add sugars.
3. In a seperate bowl, sift together flour and baking soda. Combine with the fruit and butter mixture.
4. Spoon onto a greased baking sheet and bake for 8-10 minutes.

Disclaimer

The Monkey: hyperemotional, capricious, guileful, self-indulgent, immature, insecure, indifferent, careless, naive, petty and grabby scene-stealers.

I started a truth book today. But I haven't been able to write anything in it. I start to write something down and then I realize it is a lie or an exaggeration, or that I have changed the truth somehow-softened it, stretched it, made it easier to swallow. I realize that I don't even know what the truth is. I've pretended so long, made myself into what others wanted for so long, hid from myself so long, that I have lost the truth, just like I lost myself.
"Think of all the ways there are to lie and I'll have done every one of them. Pretending to like something because someone else does. Evading a question. Saying only part of what I believe. Not saying anything at all. Shaping my words to fit what I know will be acceptable. Smiling when someone pretends to be funny. Looking serious when my thoughts are elsewhere. Agreeing when I haven't even thought things through. Invoking drama or feigning disinterest in order to avoid talking about something I'm not sure of.
And I don't know where it ends. I have to try to think of one thing I have done that was for free."
~The Monkey

Why doesn't anybody like me? Maybe it's because of the boxspring...

So today I woke up and promptly took my dogs to have their morning pee. ( I know you're all "what??? a rat with pet dogs???!!!" - that is the least upsetting and shocking fact about my rat-dom so I am doing YOU dear reader a favour - gradual, y'know) Anyramblestoomuch, whilst my doggies were peeing a human neighbor and her young offspring (only the adult was verbally assulting your rat writer) objected to the off-the-leash ways of one of my dogs, mind-you she my dog was in OUR yard. I can't fault her emotional reaction, I've learned to try to empathize with humans who are fearful of dogs, I wish humans would try to empathize with rats that are fearful of everything...as a response to my stammering apolagies I got a big rat earful that contained such gems as "that's not the way we live here" and "people like you" repeatedly. I was also accused of doing many things that this rat and this rats dependents would never do.
It made me sad as I realized yet again, that not everyone is acepting of rats. They don't understand why a rat such as myself might not want to live in the dark dirty city, that maybe despite my rat appearences I need green space and light and quiet. To that I say "it's not yours". It's not mine either but I'm willing to share it. I am willing to put my dog companions on chains so that you may feel safe in our public places. I am willing to talk with you about the things I may or may not do in the hopes that we can be tolerant and not fearful or dis-trusting of one another. I am not willing to conform to what you want me to be in order to feel that your neighborhood is some how better than. Your neighbor is a rat. That is that.
In light of this altercation I took stock of the aesthetic appearences of my dwelling, insecure much? Why yes, I am. I saw that the box spring I couldn't fit into the upstairs level of my new home is still just sitting there. Apparently no-one on freecycle wanted it. Then I got to thinking about what you could do with an old boxspring, well apparently I am not the only one.

Boxspring trellis' for the garden:
http://members.cox.net/nonacook/

Boxspring Shelves:
http://www.instructables.com/id/Book-Frame--Recycle-a-Mattress-Box-Frame-into-a-B/

At this point in time I have removed the fabric, as well as the main piece of wood that ran along the centre. What's left was the fabric, mattress like material - not sure what I can do with that. Also, the liner material that is similar to a wool disaster blanket but seems to be much more durable. I will be rolling this into several 2 1/2 feet in length and 4 inch in diameter bindles. The purpose of these is to push/stuff /kick them against the bottoms of the doors that are letting cold air in. The gaps beneath the doors are wonky in size and level making it difficult to put plastic seals on, we don't want to replace the doors themselves (they are gorgeous old wood doors) and will not be needing the extra insulation in the summer months. Also they need to be moblie, as they are moved often - this house is the home to 6 and 5 pets.
Now, onto the boxspring structure...fence? Workshop shelf? Storage unit/ wall??? We'll see, hopefully I will put pictures up soon of the project and it's various stages.
Be good, okay? Okay.