The mouthy guy in the hat

Well, I note Il Ratzinger is still on about how secularism is responsible for all the evils in the world... And, apparently, liberalism is a 'totalitarianism'.

Note also the now-standard equating of secularism with nihilism, the 'dictatorship of relativism', et al. Yeah, yeah, keep at it, hat-boy. We got your number.

Ratzinger, dahlink, it's not that the secular world believes nothing. It's that we don't believe what you do. But I'm betting both you and your PR office know this perfectly well.

Putz. Open question to the press: I note this guy gets column inches every coupla days to attack the Enlightenment. Who are you quoting who actually stands up for it?

Jes' asking.

Excerpt

From the manuscript eternally a few weeks from completion, another excerpt from recent edits (PDF).

No, it's not done. Sorry. Still focusing on staying in business, paying the bills, wild and crazy guy that I am.

Still renovating

No, I haven't died or anything. Just really busy. In the fashion of all home projects, the work on the office mushroomed into its own little industry. Wound up, in total, outside the repairs to the tile grout on the floor above: repairing the ceiling, repairing one of the walls, repainting the ceiling, walls, and trim, replacing the curtains ('cos they didn't go with the new paint), replacing the light figure ('cos it was ugly), replacing the outlets and switch ('cos they were kinda ugly too, and really didn't go with the new paint either), and finally refinishing the floor ('cos it needed it, and hey, at that point, you might as well).

It looks lovely now. But damn, I gotta stop getting into things like these. Was still painting trim at five in the morning, a few nights ago. No, I'm not kidding.

Anyway, the goods news is: one more coat of urethane on the floor, and I'm done. And it really does look gorgeous. Very, very dark blue ('Indigo' or 'Noir', Pratt & Lambert call it) walls, contrasting with white trim and ceiling, sheer white drapes, freshly finished oak floor. Ver' nice.

Manual labourer boy

Crazy few days. Ran back down to Sandbanks/Prince Edward County Thursday to offer moral support and company to my lovely daughter, whom my wife informs me is being treated like dirt by her endlessly awful cousin^*—this being necessary staffing, as my lovely wife is having trouble dealing with this with a six month old on the other arm.

Turns out it's every bit worth it, for quality time swimming and canoeing with a grateful four-year-old, but now I'm making up the time. Today, a whole and very long day of sanding, priming, and painting my study, and regrouting, water-proofing and caulking tile in the bathroom above it, after an exploratory ceiling opening to deal with some water damage begun last week with la famille absent turned up medium-bad news (medium bad is tile repair; serious bad would have been plumbing issues in the whirlpool bath's jets, since this would have required much more opening up of tiles and ceilings et al to get at them). It's gotta get done as the contents of my study are now all over the house, and besides this being very unchildproof, I need my study for work.

Midnight rolls around, kids are in bed, and most of the stuff that can get done is done, and I realize I haven't eaten. So it's out to Kettleman's, the truly awesome 24-hour bagel place a few blocks over that makes a mean smoked meat sandwich on their handrolled Montreal-style (boiled then baked) bagels.

This is fun and necessary, but it'a a time warp. 'Cause now it's me in a pair of beat-up jeans and a plain white t-shirt, freshly showered but with paint flecks all over my hands, looking for all the world like manual labourer boy just off the night shift. And I'm thinkin' damn, me lookin' scruffy, a deli at midnight, fifteen to twenty years ago this could have been me coming out of the tail end of any number of manual labourer and/or journalism jobs (trust me, they're not always so far apart).

Ah well. 'Least I can guess I'm amicable looking as a labourer type. The girl at the cash is friendly, and the sandwich is just what the doctor ordered. And now it's 1 am, and we're back to the work I actually get paid for.

Oh... And seein' as there was some damage to the plaster details near the top, and the walls hadn't been done in a while anyway, I also redid the study walls—bravely painting them a truly vivid, deep navy india ink colour, courtesy Pratt & Lambert, with trim and ceiling white. And it came out frickin' gorgeous, if I do say so myself.

( ^* You could be forgiven for thinking this sounds a mite indulgent... But we're talking a seriously awful cousin here—as in years of therapy awful—and the poor little thing had been trapped in a cottage with the little (ahem) for most of a week, very inadvisedly, as it turns out. So it was called for; trust me on this. )