The result was Snow for Sugar, shorthand for provisions in the 1763 Treaty of Paris that restored Guadeloupe to France while England kept Canada.

Elizabeth Abbott, Sugar: A Bittersweet History (172)

1. I’ve been on Twitter since ’06, and I have resisted joining as sloganeer because, really, I tell my dad, so why shouldn’t I tell the world that I can’t stop watching Star Trek because of Bones or that I’ve been watching an embarrassing amount of Miami Vice or that I can’t believe we still don’t have an airdate for the new season of Torchwood (July, but when?!). There’s not much left when you admit your crush on Tom Selleck.

2. I’m just so much more likely to post to Twitter these days, so I’m sloganeer over there now, and you can read all those same points I just made, except with added links to fic.

3. Come June, they’re’ll be some whinging about writing 800 words a day of a pairing I haven’t quite wrapped my head around, too. So there’s that to look forward to. Yay fandom?

So much baking since I finished school with an English degree. Though I always knew it wasn’t going to be easy to be what I wanted to be in this world, somehow writing seemed more plausible to me than baker. Yet, baking is what I’ve been doing with myself lately.

So I’m going with that.

This is a screencap from Miami Vice 201 Prodigal Son.

This is the same scene, a Crockett-lost-in-New-York-and-his-own-head montage set to “You Belong to the City” by Glenn Frey.

This is the Wikipedia page for “You Belong to the City” by Glenn Frey, which explains that the song was written especially for Miami Vice. (Frey guest-starred in a season 1 episode.)

This is the music video, wherein clips from Miami Vice 201 Prodigal Son are interspersed with a Frey-lost-in-New-York-and-his-own-head montage set to “You Belong to the City” by Glenn Frey, of course.

A collection of photos from a walk through Vancouver’s Chinatown and my first time with a digital camera. It was a Minolta, it was big, it was borrowed from my dad’s work.

I remember coming home on the Skytrain and clicking through to see what I had. A man sitting across from me wanted to see, too. He had never seen a camera like it. That was 2004.

It was billed An Evening with Joel Plaskett because it wasn’t a normal rock concert at all. No drummer, just drums, and guitars, guitars, guitars. A lot of stories, turning into poetry, turning into songs, so we were never sure if Joel was telling us a story or singing us a song.

Instead of an opening act, he brought his dad and his friends on tour, and mostly they backed up Joel’s songs, but sometimes they sang their own.

His dad, Bill Plaskett, played a song he wrote when he arrived in Canada, in Vancouver, where, as Joel put it, “My pa met my ma.” He put the song on a cassette and then lost track of it. When Joel asked his dad to sing that song on this tour, he also admitted to stealing that cassette.

The album’s called Three, there are three of them, and it’s three short of 30 songs. (Get one of those missings songs here, with the password, no surprise, “three.”) He sang us a lot of those new songs, and the titles come in threes, too. All the notes I wrote look like this: deny3, pine3, heartless3.

But he played us the old stuff, too. “Nowhere With You,” which made the girls behind me very happy, and everyone sang, and the drunk boys behind me declared their love for Joel very loudly, and because it’s Vancouver, Joel reached back to Thrush Hermit and sang “The Day We Hit the Coast.”

I’ve spent much of today going through the pictures, listening to the new album (and the old ones and Thrush Hermit), and writing this review, because I couldn’t come up with a way to say it was a really good show without just saying, it was a really good show. But it was. Thanks, Joel.