Why I've Been Away So Long:
A Photographic Journal by Loser McToomuchtimeonherhands/

(If I had been blessed with technological prowess, I would have put each photograph above each entry. Alas, I was blessed only with child-bearing hips and the ability to whip up a damn fine peanut sauce.)

1. I've been suffering from some sort of nasty flu which starts with a three-day fever, turns into a frustrating and ever-deepening chest cough, and culminates with relentless cravings for ketchup-flavoured rice cakes. I'm better now -- puffy from all the carbohydrates and tatooed from red dye #3 -- but better.
2. I've been working all day every day on the rough draft of my new play and...I did it! It's finished! It's ROUGH ROUGH ROUGH and I kind of sort of hate it a little bit in places, but it has a beginning, a middle and an end. Five very talented people workshopped it for me on Sunday and now I don't want to even look at the thing for at least two months. (Hey, I just rediscovered the "make things huge" button. Nice.)
   
3. I've been researching cat gymnastics.
   
4. I am moving on Sunday and I've been packing. I am not a good packer. I am, in fact, the world's third-worst packer. The world's worst packer is my friend Chris H., who thinks that anything larger than a pencil doesn't need to go in a box. The #2 spot goes to my friend Cole, who tries to move dressers with the clothes still in them, and bookcases with the books still in them. (I once moved a microwave with some thai noodles still in it, though, so who am I to judge?)
   
5. I've been writing music like a mad woman (like...a lot, not like...with my guitar in one hand and a dead bunny in the other.)
6. I've been having a love affair with my new spectacles. They turn into sunglasses when it's bright outside -- the greatest invention of the 21st Century, in my humble opinion, closely followed by the Rufaroller. (Rufus+stroller=Rufaroller.)
7. No comment. And I totally have NOT gained five pounds.

Sorry that some of you were worried about my disappearance! And thanks for all the great feedback on the Gateworld interview.

I'm going to see A. in The Graduate on Friday -- exciting! (I'm going to close my eyes during the naked parts, though. I'm not mature enough to deal with that.)

Hope everyone reading this is well and happy and not addicted to cupcakes,

K.

Hot Lemon, Ginger and Anger/

I'm sick. I have a fever. And a cough. I'm not even drinking coffee! I mean, I'm still at the coffee shop, but this time I'm drinking hot lemony gingery substances instead of coffee/crack. The fever part is kind of fun, I have to admit. I can say weird, inappropriate things (eg. 'parks are delicious' -- I just made that one up) and no one judges me, because it's "the fever talking". I can also talk in my sleep (as usual), stay away from the gym (same ol') and buy a cat stroller (?) and say that it's "the fever acting".

Anyway...let's talk about something else...like...uh...bunnies? Boats? OKAY FINE. I'LL TALK ABOUT THE CAT STROLLER. I bought one. Well, I didn't exactly buy one -- I made one. Is that worse or better? Possibly worse. I am now officially that lady. The lady who wheels around her angry-looking tiny puffy dog in a baby carriage on the streetcar; the lady who wears exclusively paisley, draws her eyebrows on with a magic marker and wears lipstick as blush; the lady who has a cat sweater, a cat calendar, a cat mug, a cat apron, cat salt and pepper shakers and ten cats. It doesn't matter what I do...if I'm pushing a homemade stroller with a cat in it, I'm that lady. I'll just have to accept it. (Unless that's the fever talking.) But man, the stroller is handy. No more taxis for Rufus and I.

It is winter now in Toronto. (Nice, smooth subject change there, Kate.) Over the weekend, it was 25 degrees Celsius (which is something else in Farenheit...let's say...um...235 degrees. Yaaaaa. Sorry -- it's the fever typing. And doing conversions.) Now, just four days later, it's 1 degree outside, there's something that looks an awful lot like snow falling outside and the wind is blowing so hard that an angry leaf almost took my eardrum out when I was standing on the street corner. Oh well. I'm not a big fan of winter, but I sort of prefer it to summer.

Hey! I have some big news:

I'm moving! Phark is no more. From now on, I'll be a member of the un-phark instead. (That doesn't make any sense.) I'll have to come up with a new name for the blog, too. Or maybe I'll just spend a few days coming up with a really good way to justify keeping it the same...

Hope everyone's well and happy!

Feverishly,

K.
(p.s. dso17, I have absolutely no idea about plays from the 50s, but I'm looking into it!)

Just to be clear.../

The aforementioned "plans for February" may include one, some or all of the following:

hibernation, a cupcake fast (JUST cupcakes, not NO cupcakes), the traditional February blahs, a new snowsuit, some script work for Noble Parasites, my bi-annual trip to the gym, M's birthday, Rufus' gravy-free birthday, a Valentine's Day protest, more cupcakes, anemia, my dad's birthday, a really red nose, some confusion surrounding how many days there are in a month...and maybe a spontaneous trip to Mexico if I can get enough voice gigs to cover the cost.

To my knowledge, those are the only confirmed plans on the horizon. Sorry to disappoint...

K.

Eight Pharkin' Days Later/

Hi. It's me. Kate. You remember...Kate? The blonde one (with red ends -- they're so damn hard to get rid of. Never go red on a whim.) 5 feet and 8 inches tall (with my new 2.5 inch heels on), 29 years old (possibly for another six or seven years because 30 is sounding a little terrifying right now), queen of the procrastinators, mother to Rufus, drinker of coffee (decaf). Remember me? Well, it's been eight whole days since I last posted, but I'm back. Since it's been eight whole days, I'm sure you expect me to have LOTS to report. You know...breakups, pregnancies, travel, life-altering experiences, auditions, play completion, awards, new friends, plans for the future...etc. etc...

Well...I auditioned to be the voice in a chicken commercial. Does that count? Although...that wasn't in the last eight days. Um...okay...I broke up with Rufus temporarily, but we're fine now; I met at least one pregnant person, I traveled to Queen Street West and spent an exorbitant amount of money on a new pair of glasses (they're awesome); I ate two life-altering cupcakes; I thought about how glad I was to not be auditioning for a meat commercial this week; I worked on my play; Rufus left a special award for me on my bedroom floor; I reconnected with a friend I haven't spoken to in eleven years; and I'm still waiting to hear back about some plans for February (hmm....mysterious).

Phew. I guess I did have a lot to report.

About the play...I've written an outline, seven pages and three songs and I'm getting pretty excited about it. For some reason, the music is coming along much faster than the script. I'm a little stuck on the story front, actually, and there is VERY little you can do with a seven-page play. Anyway...I'll figure it out. It's just writer's block. Yeah. That's it. "Writer's block." Not "procrastinator's seven-page itch". Not at all.

About Rufus/Rufette...never give a cat gravy. Aside from the obvious complications, it turns them into gravy-craving psychopaths. Psychopets. Psychopeths. Psychocats. Wow. The writer's block is affecting my punning, too.

About the rest of PHARK (well, I guess it's PHRK right now, because A's off being famous in London)...P turned thirty yesterday. THIRTY. Gosh, I'm glad I'm still right in the middle of my twenties. Yep, right in the middle of the fourth quarter of the last year of my twenties. I'm fine with that. Tooooootally fine. My mother had given birth to four children and pursued two different careers by age thirty, but that's fine. I've given birth to at LEAST four ideas in my life. And I've played people with careers on TV.

Well...it's 9:45pm and I haven't written yet today, so I'm off. It's time to be productive. And by 'be productive', I mean 'go drinking, then come home and eat slightly out-of-date cupcakes'.

K.