Bev, Erika and I, plus Art Bergmann, and some other photos

Isn't this a sweet pic? Bev, Erika, and me in the mirror in back at a Vietnamese place on Kingsway (GT something or other). There were others, but alas, they're lost: my fucking phone decided to synch with Google Images, which I'd deleted a bunch of stuff from when I discovered that a billion photos of mine were stored online where I had only wanted them stored on my phone or places I put them (I really, really don't like things being done automatically on my behalf, you know? Nine out of ten times I have to turn it off and undo it - autocorrect, autosuggest, etc. I hadn't even KNOWN my photos were being backed up to Google Images until they wrote me to tell me that my Google Images drive was nearly full and they were going to have to charge me money for more space. What? It took me an hour to figure out how to just clear Google Images, wincing at seeing photos - because I had plenty of Mom's last week in hospital before she died - that I didn't necessarily want to see, which I have already backed up in plenty of places here without Google's help). But though I turned the synch function off during that process, a bunch of photos - quite randomly selected by Google, apparently - suddenly disappeared from my phone when I erased them from the Google Images drive (others, of course, mysteriously appeared, including ones I had deleted from my phone months ago). Sad part is, as with others in this series  - there were about five of them - some are now lost forever. I don't even remember what they were. Just leave my stuff alone, guys! Let me manage my own images!

Anyhow, luckily this one pic, which I quite love, was stored to Facebook. And now I am putting it here, for protection. (Luckily when I deleted stuff from Google Images it didn't take those photos from my social media sites too, or this blog).

I had a bunch of other shots of this rather lovely dumpster, too, in an alley near Main and Broadway, kinda in back of where Aunt Leah's Urban Thrift is, by another thrift store that sells clothing by the pound (!). I put them on Facebook, but fuggit, they'll stay there I guess, until Facebook decides to do something with them.

Erika and I both like owls.

I really have been enjoying hanging out with Bev lately. We have part one of a two-part interview that will remain unfinished in the current (and supposedly final) BC Musician, which you can find around town (Neptoon usually has them, and the Fox had a stack). There is stuff in the works to use the interview that did NOT appear in BC Musician in a future Big Takeover. In the meantime, there's a big Art Bergmann feature I did in the current issue, #81. It's part one of two, and Art is happy with it indeed (though apparently I fucked up in transcribing some stuff; I was dealing with crappy audio, and a couple things I quoted him was saying, like "it's a life thing," are nothing he would say, he tells me. Must have misheard the tape!).

Meantime, here are some photos of me and Tybalt. He almost never reacts to images of himself, when I hold the phone close to him - maybe it's a vision thing - but in this case, the phone was far enough away, when I held it up for a selfie, that he got very curious: hey, look at that tiny cat over there? Who could that be? He stalked forward on the couch, intently staring (in his slightly cockeyed way) into the phone, very interested, and I got this rather priceless series, saying in "human-to-cat" tones, "Who's that? Is that another cat? No, look - it's you! See? It's you!"

A few of these were lost too (the ones I didn't post to Facebook). But you get the idea.

Later that night, I could hear Tybalt barfing - that distinctive wheezing thing he does, followed by the definite sound of a liquid being regurgitated. I was in bed at that point, and Erika was off visiting family for the night. I don't know what she would have done, but I was not about to get out of bed in the middle of the night to try and find the catbarf. I figured it would be easy enough to see once the morning came. But come the day, no catbarf revealed itself. As someone suggested on FB, maybe he ate it again? We never did locate it, but we had a fun, documented chat about it, Tybalt and I. "Did you barf, Tybalt? Where did you barf?"

Anyhow, there's some photos - Bev, Erika, me, an' the cat. Now to do something on Keithmas...