Real Canadian Mint

Old crotchety man winter

2011-01-11T21:07:00.005-06:00

There was a puppet program on TV in the waiting room of the clinic last week. I watched it while I waited for my name to be called. The sound on the TV was off, though. That is no good. Lip-reading a puppet.

Try it. It looks like they're just going "arp arp aarp ARP arparp". (Then turn the sound back on, because this is pretty funny.)

I went back to Cow Pie for Christmas and three of my four blog readers asked why I don't write in my blog anymore. This is for you!

It's that time of year when it feels as though it's dark all the time and I'm never quite warm enough, I don't feel like I get enough sleep and staying motivated at work is a slog. But it's also all white and sparkly and muffled outside and people still have their 'seasonal lighting' up. I'm OK with that. Obvious Christmas decorations in mid January, no. But lights can stay as they really brighten things up (as lights do). Especially the multi-coloured LEDs.

Walking around One Great City!, and our neighbourhood in particular, I realise how little this city invests in beautification. I like it here, I even like the downtrodden vibe to a certain extent, but on the tenth grey day in a row, one starts to think that it would be really nice to see a commemorative bench. A boulevard of planters. A park. So those lights really do make a difference.

I love winter, but it really makes me work for it. It's nicer Cow Pie, not so relentlessly itself. It wavers. It turns the mountains white.

Last day of April. Must post something.

2010-04-30T20:23:00.004-05:00

I am having some crazytime at work. AJ has gone on mat leave so the workforce is down to three from five. Busy does not begin to describe it. On top of that, because the budget has been cut, my acting position is gone, so I'm back to my base position. I have been, well, not exactly demoted, but what? De-promoted? Un-promoted? Remoted? Only with fuckloads more work than ever. And a paycut. I am pretty sure my supervisor was playing dumb when she told me she didn't know what was going on with staffing as I nervously tried to advocate for my career earlier this week. A pointless exercise.

Such is life. At least I have a job in the wake of these 'tough economic times'. (I wonder when people will stop saying that? When the next recession comes around, say in two years, will there be a different phrase?)

I allowed myself a day's worth of distracted bitterness, but I really feel over it now. I don't even feel tempted to call AJ to complain. I will, though. Tomorrow.

For tonight, it is episode two of this piece of fantastic-ness. B and I were laughing, gasping, clapping and pointing at the tv last night in sheer amazement.

Hi, B.

2010-03-30T21:26:00.003-05:00

B's coming up to his six-monthiversary of unemployment. One of the (few) benefits of joblessness is the opportunity it affords to keep up with the latest internet trends. The past month has been all Merton and chat roulette, trolling and equals three, piano cats and endless teabagging jokes. I have never felt so in-touch with my culture.

B just announced that his favourite instrument is the vocoder, but he's just trying to be cool. In fact, it is the ukelele.

We are going to the Bahamas on Friday. B suggested for a laugh that he bring along a ukelele. I agreed that this would be funny, so I found one for him online. Unfortunately, it is the cheapest piece of crap ever and I'm embarrassed to have bought it. I am suggesting he leave it behind when we return from our vacation.

Our flight leaves at 5:00 am. I thought the security desk didn't open before six so I'm curious to see what happens. I got a big, fat book out of the library for the flight. It's practically War and Peace, it's so enormous, but it's a thriller. I don't normally read these things but it's kind of fun to have a page-turner on a plane.

This is a family effort. We are meeting the parents, Em and B-i-L there and we're all going to share a house for a week and snorkel. I can't wait, but B has pretty much had it with relaxing so he's not looking forward to it much.

I think there will be internet access at the house but no computer, so my intimacy with pop culture will be short-lived. For B's sanity's sake, I hope it stays that way.

Oh I do love you, One Great City!

2010-03-09T19:15:00.005-06:00

I'm not avoiding the blog anymore. I just seem to have nothing to say. I had 56 posts in six months the first year I started this. I know the trick is to write anyway, because really I always have something.

Here goes.

Since the killer hockey final - where I was secretly cheering for the US after hearing a not-entirely-discreditable prediction that Canadians, blinded by golden patriotism, would hastily vote Conservative were an election to be called shortly following the Games - I have developed a renewed interest in a game that really hasn't captured much of my attention since 1986. Hockey fan WorkerB fills me in on the changes since then.

Fortunately, this is a good place to live should one want to know more about hockey. The NHL site is helpful, but last weekend, there was a live game, outdoors: old Jets vs. the media. Jets were better.

And then 'Death By Popcorn'. Violating all forms of copyright, this movie has been hard to come by, but thanks to the wonders of the interwebber, you can watch it right now if you want. I wouldn't call it a great movie, but it captures something about this place that is bang-on: that (almost?) indomitable spirit of the underdog. This is why I wanted to live here (but I tell people it was because of the quality of the planning school).

Some say they're coming back. Others say, never. It's all about money now and that's one thing that One Great City! does not have. But it sure has loyal fans.

--

B took a video of that outdoor game which I haven't got around to uploading to the computer. This entry has been waiting for that upload to happen, but as it seems to make sense without the video, I will go ahead and post this now. Two weeks after the fact...

Winter weekend

2010-02-15T09:21:00.003-06:00

This weekend is a long one. Wa-hoo! Bad timing, though, as I realised Saturday morning that I only have one day (Tuesday) to finish an at-minimum two-day (Monday and Tuesday) task for work. I am gearing myself up to going in early tomorrow. That never seems to work. Perhaps I will surprise myself.

B and I started this LW with a fabulous skate on the fabulous winter trail, then went to the pub to watch the Opening Ceremonies. The sound was mostly off. I am generally not into that sort of thing, but also, deep down, very much into it - especially when it comes to the Olympics. I am nostalgic for the Olympics, coming as I do from Cow Pie.

My favourite part of any Opening Ceremony is the introduction of the participating countries. I think this is the only time when countries are referred to by their official names, so the orders are wonky, what with 'People's' and 'Islamic' and 'Democratic' prefixing the standard.

This set of introductions was particularly fun with all dancing that was going on in the meantime. Most of the dancers were pretty consistently energetic (one guy in particular was really into it, punching his fists in the air, bouncing his knees around non-stop - exactly why I love the Olympics), but you could see the odd individual growing weary - bored, even - as they drifted inward, forgetting where they were, much as I used to do after dancing my 11th song in a row at The Republik, beer in hand, concentration on slick dance moves sliding out the window to be replaced by sloppiness. I think if the stadium weren't covered, that phenomenon would have not manifested.

Otherwise, the event was relatively under-whelming, I thought. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, though. There was a lot to laugh at - often because of the squashed human form on HDTV. And I wish the sound had been on for K. D. Lang.

B and I are planning to go cross-country skiing today. There is a golf course in town that has very nicely-groomed trails in the winter. It's windy, though. I am fine with a still -21, -40 even, but the wind! Its relentless nature brings out my weenier side.

What to do, then? Watch a vid? Tidy? Bake muffins. I have a book that I need to finish in time for the second-ever meeting of the Planning Book Club which two friends and I started. The book is called Planet of Slums and I recommend it. A bit statistics-heavy, but eye-opening.

Screw it. The Olympics have inspired me. Skiing it is.

Carry on, ostrich

2010-01-29T19:40:00.004-06:00

I'm cooking a chilli. Chili? Chile? I put in a few red pepper flakes, sprinkled straight from the jar. I did not taste the chili, however, my lip feels like it's puffing up. The left tip of my tongue is burning, the burn spreading over to the middle and the other side. The corner of my left eye is warm and feels bigger than it should. It's amazing how the heat hones in on a particular point on the skin. I only have to think about opening that jar and I feel its effects.

This has been a strange week - very work-focused. I have been doing a bit more traveling; this week, to a few small bilingual municipalities nearby. I am the project officer for these communities because allegedly I speak French. I did get some practice last night. I love speaking French and will take any opportunity to do it. But it's not strictly French that is spoken in The Friendly Province. They speak Frenglish, what we called Franglais in junior high. It's quite charming. And they like their meetings long, so I'm glad it's the weekend.

In one of these towns resides just about the nicest CAO you could meet, one of those people after whom you wish to model yourself. Self-assured, unassuming, comfortable, grounded. One day, people will see me and think that. They will think, Yellowbird = Zen.

Not quite there yet. I despise being video-taped. On Tuesday, I watched a four-second video of myself that presented me with the horrific realisation that I pull not only my mouth over to the left side when I speak, but my entire body. When did I develop this undesirable habit? God. You mustn't remember this the next time you talk to me or you won't hear anything I say, so distracted will you be by this silliness.

This reminds me of Boyfriend #1 (not to be confused with #1 Boyfriend) who realised, after watching himself on camera, that he was less cool cucumber and more gnat - that was precisely the word he used to describe himself, which is pretty hilarious. I spend way too much time thinking about how I carry myself. I imagine acting would be a useful skill because one could believably shift away from gnat-like behaviour and toward something smoother, more poised, like dolphin, or cat, or ostrich.

I wish the weekend were longer. Maybe I'd be bored with three days off but I don't think so.

The hub of the north

2010-01-18T22:57:00.010-06:00

I went to Thompson for work. It is like a big suburb with a big-box power centre for a downtown. The roads are designed to accommodate F-250s. People's back yards are stuffed with quads and snowmobiles and speedboats.

I flew there - yes, I work for a climate change program. Unless there are several people making the trip, it is not worth the time to drive. I would have liked to have taken the train but I think that takes 24 hours. I make no excuses. The flight was noisy as hell but a lot of fun. The airline served not only a free meal and coffee, but candies to munch on as we descended. The sun was beginning to rise on the way up, a bright pink-and-orange stripe, but I was sitting on the other side of the plane. Below, all was green and white - trees and lakes, forever. I started The Road.

I had a driving tour around town, including the mine. The sun was up over the horizon.

Later that afternoon, the sun was shining through a snowstorm.

After work, in the common area of the B & B, I read more of The Road . I took myself out for delicious pizza at the local 'institution'. It was quiet outside because of all the snow. I watched bad cable, and allegedly good cable, but even that was bad. Still, watching tv is fun in a hotel. I knitted - my hobby for the new decade. I read more of The Road.

The next morning, my reason for going there and I were booted from her office on account of an unannounced meeting. Her office and the board room are one and the same. This happened two more times. We managed to get some work done.

The flight home was dark. More food, sweets and the end of The Road.

I haven't forgot you, blog

2010-01-07T20:52:00.003-06:00

Hi! I'm still here. Not giving up on the blog is one-half of one of my three New Year's resolutions. The other half of the one is to do stuff - like, wholeheartedly, not in a half-assed way. Whole-hearted blogging.

The other two are to chill out and be nicer to B. I am nice on-line but a real meanie at home. OK, I'm not that bad, but everyone can be nicer.

I admit to being into facebook. It is like a mini interactive blog, but with a wider audience and more pictures. Perhaps that explains the thin blogging.

Another factor was the virus on my computer. B, Mr. Computerscienceman, installed kubuntu so that's what I'm using now. The fonts are all funny. It's affecting my writing. It's harder to be serious with this font. Akin to writing a sympathy note in comic sans.

Well, this is a start, but I've been at work all day, it's really snowy which means heavy boots, and I went to a yoga class this evening so I'm tired. And there's not much time left to squeeze in an episode of The Sopranos, which I have just discovered. Good night. No retard jokes.

And the second item...

2009-09-09T06:48:00.003-05:00

...was a meeting I had organised and led last Wednesday with a bunch of councillors from the municipalities we're working in. I don't usually find work very stressful, but meetings can be intense.

That was an exhausting week but also kind of energising. Life will certainly be dull from now on.

B and I had looked at about 40 houses, nearly all in this one neighbourhood north of highway one (just north of where we live now), and most were in pretty poor condition. The ones that were decent always sold for about $20,000 over the asking price (even in these 'tough economic times', though apparently the Spirited Energy Province has been relatively sheltered from all that hoopla) and so were out of our price range.

About two weeks before we found the house we got, we put an offer into a very small house in a central part of the neighbourhood. It needed a lot of work - mostly cosmetic. It was very solid, which is the important thing in an old neighbourhood. It sold, to someone else, for quite a bit higher than the list price.

The one we did get was a place we didn't even consider looking at. A friend across the street told us about an open house and said we should check it out. That part of the neighbourhood always seemed too far north to me, but he said it was great. He can be anywhere downtown on his bike in 10 minutes and there are lots of buses. So we had a look. The street was awesome. The house was beautiful and looked to be in good condition, so we figured it would just go for a whole lot more than asking price. Also, it seemed like a lot of house for us. I like small things.

It didn't sell. I think it's the location. We had another look with our agent and he really liked it. He doesn't usually like anything. B was all for it. I was apprehensive. We wrote up a large pros and cons list. The pros outweighed the cons. We put in an offer and got it just slightly under the list price.

I wasn't convinced we had it until the bank sent the approval letter to the agent. There was about a full day of stress in there when, upon receiving my letter of employment, the manager raised an eyebrow at my 'term employee' status. Even though he'd written us several pre-approval letters, he had no obligation to offer us anything. But this was the eleventh hour. Gah! He scared me for nothing. It went through fine.

So now we have this house. It's big, it smells like smoke and it's kind of far north, but I am really happy. I'm ready to try on this owning-a-house thing and see how I like it. I'm happy to move out of this apartment - not because I hate it here but because I'd like a change of space, one with a cat-litter-free bathroom. I'm happy to have space for a canoe and another, crappier bike, so I can cycle anywhere and not worry about it being stolen. I'm looking forward to reading on a porch, more counter space and somewhere to put a sewing machine. I'm also excited to move to a different neighbourhood. I love it here but it will be fun to know another part of One Great City!

The main stress of the week was my thesis defence, which I won't go into much because I have to go to work now. I can't believe how well it all went. There were only three people there but the discussion was good enough that I wish I'd asked more people to come. I have a few revisions to make, so the whole thing will be out of my hair by next week.

Which I still can't believe.

Item number three of my week of stress

2009-09-04T18:27:00.001-05:00

I just defended my thesis. It. Was. Quite. Awesome.

Item number one of my week of stress

2009-09-03T15:52:00.000-05:00

B and I bought a house!

Summertime

2009-07-19T20:19:00.003-05:00

I feel like it's been ages since I've posted - because it has been. Just enjoying the summer and generally avoiding my computer. Turning it on is less appealing now that I spend so much of my day in front of a screen. Oh, the drawbacks of working in an office.

B and I went to Montreal for a few days around Canada Day. We stayed with my 'aunt', who is not really my aunt, but I consider her a relative as she was very close to our family when I was growing up. She lived right next door - we shared a patio. Her husband is one of my favourite people to talk to. They have a really nice house with a beautiful back garden. We ate out on the patio a lot so we could absorb the lushness of it all. Soon after dusk, the fireflies came out. Not being from eastern Canada, fireflies are a thrill to me. Animals that light up and glow are just a crazy concept. I once saw a glowing thing in a bush in The Middle of Nowhere, France. I looked closely and it was a little worm. A glow worm - my first and only, so far. Neat.

Jazz Fest was on while we were there, so we heard some great music. We also went to La Ronde to ride on some rollercoasters, canoeing in a nearby provincial park and shoe-shopping. We spent half an afternoon at the Olympic stadium, which was this concrete wasteland of craziness that just made me want to run around really fast (that's the Olympian in me). I practised French when I could but those Montrealers always respond back in English so I didn't get very far. We had a night out with C McK, who has moved there permanently, unfortunately for us, but at least we got to hang out. It was one of the best trips we've ever taken.

Last weekend was the folk festival and I was only sort of looking forward to it because I still had a bad taste in my mouth from last year's horizontal rain. The weather was much drier this time, and the bands were fantastic. My favourite thing about a festival is all the music I didn't know I'd like. I also tend to enjoy the beer tent. Actually, that might be my favourite thing.

Today, B and I cycled to the park and visited the zoo for the first time - lots of birds there, and dumb-asses, too, shouting at the fighting monkeys as though they were watching a hockey fight on TV. We had a picnic on the grass. Some teenagers nearby were playing Truth or Dare, so once in a while one of them would get up and lie down on the grass between two guys playing frisbee. They did not lie near us. We went for ice-cream which melted quickly in the heat and then blew all over shirts in the wind. On the way home, we picked some radishes from our garden plot - hot and delicious!

Time to eat and get rid of this headache that has come on. I will try to remember to post some pictures of the Olympic stadium. The past's idea of what the future would be.

Yes!

2009-06-28T22:28:00.002-05:00

Another list

2009-06-19T17:01:00.004-05:00

a. I have handed in a full, decent draft of my thesis to my entire committee of three. I just won’t completely relax, though, until I have a piece of paper in my hand indicating that I don’t have to do any more work on this.

b. B got a new job. He is digging it so he’s been particularly upbeat and fun lately. However, the mortgage pre-approval letter we got before he decided to switch jobs is now null and void until he’s off probation. Fortunately, the probationary period is only 30 days so will be up in just over two weeks, however, we have seen what looks to be, in pictures, a truly great place that is accepting offers on Monday. Now I’m trying to get mortgage approval myself but it’s such a short time frame that I’m getting really anxious.

c. We are going to a cottage on a lake for the weekend with a couple whom we only know a little bit. They are really nice and although I’m not sure we have a lot in common, I am very excited to go away to a cottage and chill out for a weekend. I will not have to think about my thesis. Hopefully the above situation won’t fester in my mind and ruin it all. I am good at quickly replacing one worry with another.

d. B, CMcK and I went to a jazz show at an art gallery last night. The show included free admission to the gallery, so during intermission, we checked out an exhibit called ‘Ladies Sasquatch’. As I walked through it I felt lots of different, conflicting things – it was very stimulating. Often when I’m looking at art I don’t know what to feel and I get preoccupied with wondering if I get it, which annoys me but that’s my problem. I just didn’t worry about that last night. Whatever feeling or thought came at me, I just embraced, and even spoke out loud. I felt simultaneously creeped-out and comforted, I laughed and I opened my eyes widely in shock. I have never felt so invited by an exhibit of art, so welcome to respond in whatever the hell way felt natural. It was a new experience to me. Beyond that, I thought this was actually an original way of expressing some interesting ideas, things that many people, especially women, likely sense but may not articulate. And everyone else in there seemed to respond in some way or another as well. Nobody was bored.

I didn’t link to it because I don’t want to spoil it all – hopefully my description of my own response hasn’t already done that. If it comes to your location you I recommend going without knowing what to expect.

d. I finally talked to my good friend Ando on the phone and it was really awesome.

Another post about childhood

2009-05-28T19:59:00.003-05:00

I've had some funny flashbacks of childhood recently. The other day, it was a song that pops into my head from time to time but whose title and artist have always eluded me, due to my lack of sleuthing. This is usually the trigger song. Every time I hear that I wonder why I feel like I'm about to start my first day of school, then I realise it's because it reminds me of some song from the seventies. I am not sure what triggered the memory this time because I haven't heard the trigger song in a long time (and I'm not going to listen to it now, not even with that easily clickable link there. Too obnoxious.)

I can only ever remember two lines from the seventies song, so on Sunday, taking a break from thesis writing (which, yes, I'm still doing, at my work office on weekends and early mornings now. Will this end? Ever?) I punched the lines into the search engine:
Over and over again
What do I do?

and it came up right away. Here it is, complete with pasted-together video! It was #1 in October of 1980, which is right about the time that we moved here. A song like this would never be #1 today. Something about that sound... but isn't it great? And I love visuals from the late seventies and early eighties because the weather is always sunny and people have soft, fluffy hair and wear a lot of brown, which is exactly as I remember that time.

And today, I was eating a banana, which is not all that unusual but maybe it was because I am also wearing a yellow cardigan that I thought of a book or a poster that I had as a kid which grouped bunches of foods and other objects from nature by colour. For yellow, there was a banana, and I am sure Bert and Ernie were involved somehow, but the rest is fuzzy.

At the moment

2009-05-10T17:55:00.004-05:00

1.
Don't know much about history... I really am fuzzy for most of it, so I bought this book and took Friday evening off (no housework, no thesis edits) to read it. It has been far too long since I last started a book. This one is great and I love it. I recommend it highly.

2.
B and I are looking for a new place to live. He would like a condo, but condos here generally cost more than houses, at least in the neighbourhoods we'd like to live in, and the nice ones have outrageous fees. I like the density of most condos but they are all geared to that hip, young, professional demographic - which is totally us! Unfortunately, there is a limit to my appetite for stainless steel appliances. We'd both like to live in a co-op but they are rare. I wrote a list entitled 'My Ideal House' which has built-in flexibility regarding form of housing tenure.

3.
I have been trying to watch more TV. I'm fussy about TV. I like it to be interesting but not too interesting. Excessive plot twists will do to a show what excessive condiments will do to food. Not necessary. Right now, I'm into this. I look forward to it, but I'm not changing my desktop picture or anything.

4.
We have a plot at the community garden again. It is bigger than last year's, and closer to the road, so we will have to be very strategic about our choice of crops. No bright red tomatoes screaming, Steal me! I'm thinking, cabbage.

5.
This week's breakfast music was this album. Man. It is good. The whole thing.

Rambling bird

2009-04-20T21:26:00.004-05:00

Nothing to say. I just think I need to plonk something down. Expect to be less-than-overwhelmed.

I went to P-la-P today for an orientation session for work. I gave a presentation on the details of the program. It was a presentation that I was happy with. My supervisor, maybe less so. AJ and I had taken a class through work called 'Presentation Skillz' and I applied all the recommended points. (OK. 'Skills'). I loved this class. It was two days long and I learned several things, but most importantly, that I can speak in front of people in a clear and interesting manner. It's like realising you are creative, not because you pick up a clarinet and find that, lo! it is playing you, but because you are just a person so it's normal, you just never thought about it before. Perspective, I'm telling you, is everything.

If you go to a room called 'Ambassador Room C' of a hotel chain, and walk around the Canadian Tire next door to get some air over lunch, does that count as having visited the town?

AJ called me because she didn't go today. She wanted the uncensored de-brief (ha ha!) before we got to work tomorrow. She is a person who will repeat things a lot and is really chatty even though she's allegedly an introvert (a good source of fun-poking) - I would venture to say she 'goes on'! - but she never, ever annoys me. The more she talks, the more she repeats things, the more she realises what she is doing and makes fun of herself, the more charmed I am by her. I told her yesterday that without her at work, I would not know what is real and what is spin. The only job I ever had where I didn't have that touchstone of reality in a person, I nearly lost my mind.

It's dish-doing time.

Ah. Day off.

2009-04-13T14:25:00.003-05:00

I handed in a draft of my thesis last Friday, the writing of which required an insane amount of time invested. For three weeks, I was on a roll and stayed away from the blog and most other enjoyable things. Now, I have Easter Monday off - to myself - and the aimlessness of the day has me gripped. I just do not know what to do with myself and I love it.

These past few weeks have not been entirely anti-social. B, C-McK and I went out the weekend before last for one of those surprise nights that sticks with you throughout the week and keeps you interested in life when work tries to ensure you are anything but interested. We started out at a swanky hotel lounge. They were ordering all kinds of martinis and margaritas, but I was off booze for Lent, so it was shirley temples soda water for me. I gave up Catholicism long ago but I've always liked Lent. I 'observe' it in some way most years, but it's been a long time since I stopped drinking. This was a great decision, well-timed with my end-of-March goal to finish a draft of my thesis - no valuable writing time wasted being hung over or tired or out of it.

Two of C-McK's friends joined us. They were wonderful. The lounge had a pianist who played hit after hit, so heavily embellished that it always took a little time before anyone at the table could figure out what song that was. We had dinner and dessert and even coffee and there was a lot of laughing.

By a quarter to twelve we headed to a club to see these guys, but the show was sold out by the time we arrived. Luckily, a dude who happens to work at the club happened to be standing outside smoking and happened to recognise C-McK from 'back in the day' or whatever, and he not only got us all into the sold-out show, but free-of-charge.

B and I had gone earlier in the day to that ridiculous '80s-inspired clothing store that actually sells gold scrunchies. You know the place of which I write. It was crawling with enormous glasses, leggings and moppy hair, the opposite of flattering, but the experience served as useful content for a funny discussion at the lounge. We'd all bet that the club would have a plethora of folk sporting this look and we were not wrong. The first thing to greet us when we walked into the club was a giant, clear-plastic-rimmed pair of 'ironic' glasses. Then I was immediately introduced to a guy with a moustache. He looked about 15.

The band was awesome and I never once felt tired.

I am going to wander over to the Y for a swim now.

Wedding post

2009-03-09T22:20:00.008-05:00

This is the song I had in my head as I walked to the wedding ceremony site.

Two days earlier, B and I were listening to one of those 'urban music' radio stations, noting that every pop song is all about auto-tune, this one being no exception. Then I heard the song again in a bar or something, and now I seem to hear it everywhere, as it goes. I hated it, but of course, I love it now.

I don't mean to be flippant, but making light of what I perceived to be the heavy event of getting married was the best way I could think of to get through it without over-dramatising and bursting into tears. I just wanted to maintain my composure. I knew I'd get more out of it that way. Singing this ridiculous song seemed to make nothing matter. I always feel like I can handle things if I think nothing really matters.

Now that it's over, 'heavy' isn't a word I'd use to describe our wedding. It really was a fantastic day, better appreciated with a little distance because I seemed to keep the happiness I felt at the time at arm's length, as my coping mechanism. Sometimes happy can suffocate - I don't know. I was relieved when it was all over and it's not something I'd want to do again, but it was fab. The fears I had - many of which seemed to explode in my dreams in the months leading up - did not manifest on the day, and so seem irrelevant in retrospect.

The rest of this post will take the form of a list.

Morning: B and I went skating at the duck pond and practised our dance. We didn't get it right a single time and ended up bickering to release the tension. As usual.

Later morning: Bff and I went for a long walk. It was very important to me that this happen. We have been going for walks since high school. She is the first person I regularly walked with for leisure purposes who isn't a parent.

Afternoon: Got dressed with Bff, Em, Mom, Mado... which could have been nightmarish but was fine. I had a moment of panic when I looked in the mirror in my fake fur and saw a pimp staring back. The hat seemed to fix that enough for me.

Ceremony: It's much easier to repeat something than say it off the cuff, or even read it. I actually, honestly enjoyed every minute of the ceremony and I still can't believe that.

Food: It wasn't until three-quarters of the way through the night that I could taste food, at which point the meal was as good as done, so I tried to stock up on desserts but I was full.

Dance: This is the part of the night that I don't remember, except that it seemed to make people happy.

Dance party: The usual suspects held up the party. B's dad has a couple of great pictures.

The Khan show: As Bff's B called it. An interesting mix of people trying to keep the party going in DK's room. I don't think it lasted very long.

(Briefly reverting back to non-list format)... People are kind! There was just no negativity sent our way. Everyone seemed to be fully rooting for our happiness. I don't know why I didn't see that coming. The public aspect of a wedding was what made me reluctant to get married in the first place, but it was what I loved the most. I never imagined that what I have with B could be shared, in a way, with others, and that those feelings would be compounded by their acknowledgement and support. I just think that is so cool.

Titles aren't always easy and I need to eat now

2009-02-18T18:32:00.003-06:00

When I log into my email account, it tells me there is a system error and that they are sorry for the inconvenience but I cannot get into my account just now. But, if I log in via the preview and click on a message there, I can get in no problem. This has been going on for a few days and it's very exciting - it's like a secret e-passage into my inbox.

I'm glad I found a 'way in' because, what with the wedding coming up, I have been quite dependent on various forms of communication, spending lots of time sending messages and calling people and such. I just spoke with the manager of the restaurant where we're having the wedding reception to iron out a few details. We've spoken several times now and she is really cool and I like her. I look forward to meeting her. It's always funny to meet someone I've only known on the phone. It's not that they don't match the picture in my head - I usually don't have one - it's that the foggy form now emerges into a clear shape and I think, Oh! It's you. I didn't expect this. No matter what they end up looking like, it's unexpected.

Like the guy off of whom I bought a small fridge for our office. We had exchanged a few emails and a couple of phone calls, so I had a vague sense - totally inaccurate - of what he'd be like. When I did meet him I was quite taken aback. What is it about a person's voice or e-manner that instigates surprise in you when you meet them? I realise now that it is more than those things that help build one's little mental image. With this person, the triggers were that he had posted a used item on a website and that he lived in a 'weird' part of town - why then did he seem like someone I'd have lots in common with? Busted: prejudice betrayed!

This 'weird' part of town, it turns out, is pretty cool. Like most neighbourhoods of One Great City! it used to be its own town, so it has a lovely old main street. It also has a tinge of Garden City* to it, which I saw on the map before seeing it on the ground. Similar to the phone thing, it was different when I got there, though that might have had more to do with it being night time than anything else.

*I really don't think there's anything genuinely 'Garden City' about it at all. It's just a park with a funny shape. Still, very cool to behold.

Feb. 3rd

2009-02-03T18:39:00.002-06:00

Hi.

I've been waking up in the middle of the night again - almost every night and usually for about two hours. Sometimes I'm too lazy or cold to get up, so I lie there and let my mind go nowhere special until I am ready to face the fact that unless I get up, I will not be able to go back to sleep again. That is the trick: getting up to do something that focuses my mind until it realises how tired it is.

Usually, I read The Guardian and sometimes, I work on my thesis. I can't do anything too active or exciting, like bake or sew, because then I'll never go back to bed, and going back to bed - to sleep - is the goal. Otherwise I'm sleeping at work.

It works. Sometimes, upon returning to bed, I will lie there for a little bit before falling asleep again. That usually happens when I've gone back too soon due to impatience with that inevitable fatigue. But I always have really great dreams afterwards.

By 'great' I mean 'vivid'. Here was this morning's, had sometime between 5:15 and 6:00am:

As is normally the case of late, I dreamt about the wedding. It is the day of. I arrive on the scene early to the basement of a house and some of the guests are there - all friends of my old boyfriend, and few of whom I'd remembered inviting, so I begin to wonder how the rest of them will fit at the reception to eat.

Suddenly, it's time to go to the ceremony. I feel about as ready as I would if it were to take place TODAY, so, utterly unprepared. We don't have rings and we had missed our meeting with the JP days before, among other things. I am astounded by how totally disorganised we are. How could this have happened? I had all those lists...

I haven't done my hair (which is long, blond and scraggly) and I'm not dressed. I am, however, wearing about nineteen layers, all with very intricate buttons. I start to madly undo them. I'm getting hot. I'm running late. I skip the buttons and just yank everything off over my head. I put on my dress. I go to the bathroom. The end of the dress falls in the toilet. I rinse it off and the colour - sparkly green - starts to come out and then change to a white and gold pattern, but only in that one area. At least it's pretty, I think. I don't have any make-up on and there is no time to do that hair (whoever's hair that is). No shower, nothing. I am all sweaty. I am really not feeling my best.

Dad picks me up in some car with the steering wheel on the right and I sit in the back seat, wondering what the JP is going to say, until I realise that I want to walk to the ceremony. We are coming out of an underground parking lot and I decide to jump out as soon as the car emerges from the dungeon. It is a warm, sunny day, even though it's February. I don't even need a wrap. Then I wake up to the sound of the radio.

It's true that we have a lot to do between now and the end of the month, but if we did have to do it tomorrow, it wouldn't be that bad. My guess is the dress-in-toilet thing is prophetic, though. That keeps happening with this silly belted cardigan I have.

I look forward to tomorrow morning's dream.

OK, here's that photo

2009-01-16T18:46:00.005-06:00

That's how cold it is.
--
Or, was. It's balmy now. I can't wait to go skating on the river.

Chilly beach

2009-01-15T19:15:00.006-06:00

Yesterday, a man told me that it was colder in One Great City! than at either of the poles.

People are very funny here. They really like to talk about the weather in a way that indicates they are surprised by it, as though it is totally unexpected or out of character for this part of the world to be this frigid. Then they don't wear a toque. What is up with not wearing a toque?

I have a very funny picture to post which I have yet to take. I am going to put the camera in my bag and take said photo tomorrow at work. Stay tuned.

Our song

2009-01-07T18:08:00.008-06:00

B and I are going to get married. We have been doing some planning around this. Activities are unfolding not in sequence but in overlapping layers, so that bits of things get done but the bulk piles high and nothing is completed to the point of being crossed off the list - and you know how I feel about that.

The latest dilemma is trying to pick a song to do the whole first dance thing. This is not my idea! B is the one married to that. (And I'm funny.)

We don't have 'A Song'. B has been scouring various sources for inspiration and each idea he presents I toss aside as sentimental or 'done' or just a lame song. Recently he suggested a bossa nova version of 'Night and Day'. 'Night and Day' is not a love song in the way that 'Every Breath You Take' is not a love song. Not that I think we should do a love song. In fact, I'd rather not. But an obsession song would be worse.

Still, it inspired me to search the various versions of 'Night and Day' recorded through the ages. There are many. I actually really like U2's version because, even though it sounds a little dated now, it really nails the crazy desperation, the anguish, the 'torment'. It doesn't disguise itself as a peppy, harmless little ditty. It sounds sinister. Then there's Billie Holiday's version. There's a sorrow to everything she sings, which makes perfect sense.

Really though, something about prancing around in front of my parents to the tune of 'let me spend my life making love to you' just does not wash with me. Sex and my parents occupy two totally different worlds and I'm okay with this situation remaining as-is.

--

I wrote that a week or so ago. I have been singing 'Night and Day' on my way to work ever since, but I am no closer to wanting to dance to it whilst near the parents. But neither is B, who has moved on to other bossa nova options.

Holiday

2008-12-27T07:51:00.007-06:00

B and I are here in One Great City! this year, which is nice because we can hang out together and do our own thing instead of splitting up for family obligations and sticking to schedules. Those things are also nice, but it's good to have a change once in a while. It's also a bit more relaxing.

On Christmas Eve I was released from the clutches of work halfway through the day, so we ran errands then went skating with J+J at the duck pond in the huge park in town. The pond froze into a sort of bowl shape so for parts of it we were skating downhill. In spite of the excessive amounts of Kenny G's Christmas pumping out of the speakers, I felt genuine happiness skating there.

We went over for a late meal and stayed the night. The next morning, they kindly lent us one of their cars because they live at the edge of the city and they figured bus service would be non-existent. We'd be going back the next day anyway so we could return it then.

On Christmas Day, it was just the two of us, and we cooked up a huge meal for ourselves. We had:

duck
stuffing
mashed potato with yam and parsnip
Brussels sprouts (for B. I have that anti-sprout gene)
carrot salad
cranberry sauce
gravy
bread and butter pudding
wine from Sardinia

It was delicious! Getting going was full of false starts as we almost never cook meat and this was our first time cooking a duck - plus, our kitchen is cramped and we don't have the right utensils or crockery to undertake this sort of project with smoothness - but it worked out in the end and everything tasted great.

On Boxing Day, we returned to J+J's for a party. We had looked up the bus before coming and had written down the times so we knew when to catch it home, because service was scant. J+J again offered their car and I considered it for a minute but it seemed ridiculous. They were talking about coming out to our place to pick it up the next day in another car and then driving it back, which sounded silly considering the bus was going there anyway. So we opted for the bus, and man. What a kafuffle! We really had to fight for it. People became very concerned. They just couldn't stand it. We were offered rides down the street, to the stop, half way; eyebrows and voices were raised; there was gasping; one woman looked me in the eye with pity and told me that she hates taking the bus. But it was a beautiful night and, after two days of lounging, I was ready to walk to a bus stop. So, despite the fuss, we took the bus home.

"Give them a medal!"

This is exactly what my thesis is about.

Anyway, it was a fun party. There were tonnes of nibblies. I have never eaten so much cheese in my life. B and I didn't know very many people, but everyone was friendly and we had a really good time.

These four days off in a row - four and-a-half if you count Christmas Eve - are prime movie-watching time. We've rented something like seven movies. We also have a 3D puzzle to assemble, the bonus there being that we can then get rid of it and free up some closet space. I like to think of myself as non-materialistic, but for someone who doesn't care about stuff, we sure have a lot of stuff.

The thing I've noticed this year more than others is how much hugging goes on at Christmas - with everyone and anyone. Normally I don't think anything of it, I just hug whomever, but twice this week, a compulsion came over me that I then suppressed, but the hug happened anyway. I don't know why I suppressed the feeling except that maybe I thought my hug would be rejected, but each time it was too late, some subtle signal had been sent which they then harnessed to hug me. Both times were really funny. One of these people is Brazilian so he's used to way more physical contact than we well-buffered Canadians. I'm just going with it now, like the lady at B's curling club who hugged and kissed me after we'd exchanged a single sentence.

I like my job

2008-12-20T05:07:00.004-06:00

It's about time I wrote here again, lest my bajillions of readers shift their attention elsewhere and are lost to me forever. I sense I may have passed that point. I don't know why I haven't been here much lately - not for lack of wanting, nor of things to say, more that I just didn't want to collect my thoughts, preferring instead to leave them jumbled in my mind to fester and morph into something coherent of their own accord. Much like ignoring the disaster that is my desk. If I put my mind to it, I really can ignore these things. The desk will clean itself.

Well, that never works. I had started this 'essay' about Stephane Dion and the writing of history (most interesting, trust me!) but then you know how on top of the news you have to be before it's irrelevant and, well, 'on top' is just not where I was at all. Maybe this thing will bob to the surface months from now, having taken a different shape. By itself.

Thesis approach follows suit: abandoned in the back of my mind, left to figure itself out - which, happily, it kind of has, as of an hour ago. I haven't finished my thesis yet because I honestly could not connect the dots - from purpose to lit review to the three phases of research to the link back to planning - I just could not find a common thread to tie it all together. Saying that I'd abandoned it is not entirely true, though. I have been picking away at it most days in an attempt to keep some contact with it before I lost it entirely, but always with uncertainty about where the whole thing would end up. I feel clearer now. Work, of all things, has helped.

First, we had a writing workshop last month, which totally inspired me to take a new approach to writing, focusing far more on planning than I normally would. That put a whole new perspective on how to tackle the mountain of the half-analysed, half-written, all-complicated thesis.

Then, for the past week I've been working closely with my co-worker Gavin on a 'project charter' - a new term to me. In case you are as unaware as I was, this is a document that outlines the parameters of a project (spoken with authority!) and has very specific components, like Scope, and Risks, and Milestones. The process of poring through each section and writing the whole thing together on one computer was truly fulfilling. Our boss' boss' boss was happy with the result and so were we. I have always thought of myself as actively NOT a team player (my resume lies) but after this, I'm happy to work closely with Gavin, especially because this approach is how we both finally came to understand what we're about to do.

I've heard lots of reasons not to start a full-time job before finishing a thesis, but so far it's only helped me. Nearly every day at work I come across something that applies, something that brings me closer to tying it all together. Work helps me to look at my thesis more broadly, which is what I need to do. It gives me more energy, not less.

So this morning, when I woke up at 2:00am thinking about my thesis, I got up. I came into this room. It smelled like Christmas because B and I had bought a tree and left it in here to thaw. I wrote my ideas down as a kind of map. I think I'll go back to bed now.

An excitement of US proportions

2008-12-01T22:09:00.002-06:00

This is the most exciting thing to happen in Canadian politics since... Pierre Trudeau? I don't actually remember being excited about him at the time, but had I been a bit older then, I'm sure I would have been.

Good-bye, friend!

2008-11-23T10:38:00.006-06:00

J-Lo moved away today. I have not known a One Great City! without him. From the first day of planning school until today, it's been me, B and J-Lo.

This is going to be an adjustment.

He just called from Planners' Dream City airport, for no reason other than we just normally call one another a lot, on his way to his new home town.

He and B were watching this the other day:

Many laughs.

I miss him.

The re-graping of the raisin

2008-11-20T19:33:00.002-06:00

I feel like I'm burning out. All week I've eaten breakfast and lunch that's been ordered, by me, for a four-day training session at work. Even though it's relatively healthy food, I just don't feel like myself at all. One or two meals a week prepared outside of a home is about all I can handle before I just stop thinking properly. Enough already with the sugary dainties and oily muffins and salads that overdo the sweet/savoury mix!

Raisins. They have a place, but maybe not in a salad. Would you wrap a raisin in a spinach leaf? Drizzle a little vinegar over it and pop it in your mouth? Okay, I might. It's when the raisin starts to take on characteristics of its former self that I struggle. The first time I had a conversation with Q, I asked him about his opinion on the cooked raisin. I had a hunch that he was the kind of person who would really sink his teeth into this, and I was not disappointed. We were at a party with our significant others and two friends. He was quite enthusiastic about the idea, but I stuck with my argument that so long as the raisin maintains its raisin-ness nature - dried fruit, essentially - then mixing is okay; but, in something like a muffin, where it becomes fat and juicy? Well, as Type A says, if I want a fat and juicy raisin, I'll just eat a grape, thank you.

Q and I debated the issue for some time before taking it to the rest of the party in the form of a poll, the question being 'Cinnamon bun: with or without raisins?'. The results were about 2:1 without (I say 'about' because B, as always, claimed to enjoy both, but had more of an inclination towards without). This really didn't surprise me, but Q seemed genuinely taken aback. It was one of the funniest conversations I've ever had.

All I need is a haircut

2008-11-11T15:18:00.008-06:00

I am developing a bad case of hockey hair. There's a salon I usually go to a few doors down from here, but I don't want to make an appointment. It's a high-end salon (by One Great City! standards) and I usually get a good cut there, but really I go just because it's close. Most of the rest of it annoys me - the inane conversation, the token dog, the way the stylists replace the product bottles along the bottom of the mirrors with a spin so that the labels are always facing outward. There is also tipping weirdness. I hate the way posh places expect you to just know who to tip, when and how much, and it's this big to-do if you get it wrong.

Lb*'s B is into hockey. He used to keep a very detailed book in the bathroom which analysed each of the players in the NHL for their speed, skating ability, finesse and so on. The day I discovered it, I was in that bathroom for ages because it was totally engrossing, even for someone who is not a big hockey fan. I flipped through most of it, but kept going back to the picture of the year's top player. Something about it was very compelling - likely his bizarre hairdo. Still, I thought he was lovely. (What is wrong with me?) He has since cut his hair and, well, the intrigue is just gone for me. So, I carry the flame of his past look in my own hairstyle. Just a few more months avoiding that salon...

Some fun links

2008-10-22T18:50:00.005-05:00

This is news?

Lunch at work is such fun. Every day, anywhere from three to six of us sit and chat about whatever, but the conversation invariably comes back to food - what we're eating, how we made it, who grew what where, what we made for dinner last night, what we would bring to a pot luck if ever there was one to go to, our own food issues and food politics. It's, like, the most interesting topic in the world. Everyone has something to say about it. I'm going to bring up that article tomorrow.

I also recently read this. I just love how she spells the name of her tour. It's something Prince would do, and then some. She has out-Princed Prince. Something about that, and the accompanying photo, is so very compelling that I couldn't get the story out of my head. I would go to see this show. Somehow, though, I doubt that there's a stop on the way to One Great City!.

I do have an opportunity to see this lady. (!WARNING!: This link emits a terrible sound!) For free! Should I? I'd hardly call myself a fan, but it could be worth it, strictly from a spectacle point of view. I'm actually more interested in this book which analyses people's seeming adoration of her by a guy who just doesn't get the appeal, but wants to. I bring it up at every opportunity - and there are many - even though I've never read it. Sometimes it's enough to have heard the author interviewed, but usually not, so maybe I'd better read it. Anyway, whether I go or not depends on how far along I am on my thesis draft, due 'early next week': so, would Wednesday count?

Election Day

2008-10-14T08:10:00.002-05:00

I wrote this before I went away so it's a little out of date but, since the election is tomorrow, it seems appropriate.
--
I don't think anything happens for a reason. I think things just happen, whether we actively make them happen or otherwise, and we impose a plausible reason onto them so that we can understand life and make it meaningful. I don't mean this to be cynical - in fact, I think it's uplifting to think that there are no right answers waiting to be uncovered. This makes me feel powerful and small at once because I can build a path but the universe doesn't care where it goes one way or another. There's a name for this but I can't remember it.

I didn't have a whole lot going on at work today so I found myself searching Karl Rove on Wikipedia. This was because yesterday I had read an article about how Stephane Dion has been 'framed' by the Conservatives as a poor leader. It mentioned Rove and how his tactics from the 2004 US election are being employed in the current Canadian campaign. The article deeply bothered me. I know that politics can be nasty but this kind of professional manipulation backed by a thorough understanding and complete exploitation of human psychology is frightening. It's always bothered me how disengaged people can be from politics when I think how fundamentally important it is to know what you think and why and to vote accordingly, but when attack ads and branding play a more central role than policy, I don't blame people for not wanting to vote. Anyway, Karl Rove's is a substantial entry in Wikipedia with a variety of interesting links, one of which was to a Family Guy episode where he is portrayed. I didn't think anything of that.

Much later on I was collecting coins from my stash drawer to buy a coffee at the machine. I had a few US dimes and began to study one of them carefully. Coins are fascinating. The coin says 'E pluribus unum' on it, broken up to fit around the image. I'd never noticed it before. I looked up its meaning: out of many, one. There was also a link to an episode of Family Guy called 'E. Peterbus Unum' and I thought, I've read that before. It took me a minute to establish the links, but aren't they funny? Framing - Karl Rove - a dime - Family Guy - out of many, one.
--
So I've thought about this for three or four weeks now and I haven't come up with a meaning, so let's say my stupid little link is meaningless. Maybe the whole election will be pointless. Anyway, I'll vote after work. The polling station doesn't open until 8:30.

Jetlag can be fun

2008-10-06T06:16:00.004-05:00

Hi! I'm back now. I have been awake since 2:30am, reliving the past two weeks of holidays. There is so much I want to write about. I had intended to bring paper and pen with me and keep track of those little things that spark a blog entry, but I didn't, so I'm going to have to go by B's extensive photographic record - a pretty good supplement to my own unreliable memory. For now, how about some related tunes? I had an pm3 player with me but I didn't listen to any music at all, so this is all thanks to hotel television, clothing shops and two weddings. I have searched for the great hip hop band that we kept hearing but I can't find them as I have no idea what they are called or what any of their song titles are, so if you know of any hot Italian hip hop bands right now with really big hair, fill me in.

When did it get so damned dark in the morning?

Now!

2008-09-17T17:36:00.003-05:00

There is currently a rhubarb crumble baking in the oven. Yum! I don't bake much, but when I do, it's usually spontaneous. Sometimes I'll start baking when I'm in the middle of making dinner, but I try to avoid that inevitable disaster.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I am very quirky. Correct.

I remember having a funny conversation with a friend (who is now pregnant, not that that's relevant) about how spontaneity is linked to doing something unhealthy, particularly for our boyfriends, and how that is silly. We thought, wouldn't it be fabulous if our mates spontaneously did the dishes? Or spontaneously ate a stalk of broccoli? Not that baking a rhubarb crumble is particularly healthy (although having read this, I'm beginning to wonder if I wouldn't be better off increasing my dairy intake) but it's the act of baking to which I refer. Baking, like dancing, is one of those activities where I don't for a second wish I was doing something else. It makes me very happy and I don't know why I don't do more of it. No time, I guess. Must pounce on those urges to bake when they happen upon me.

Long time ago

2008-09-10T20:11:00.006-05:00

Twenty years ago, Dad uprooted the family to England for a year, where I was to wear a school uniform. I was not happy about this. I listened to my walkman a lot, to cope. Usually it was the soundtrack to my favourite movie at the time. Here's a sample:

Now, isn't that a classy video? I've had that song in my head for a week, but I'm not sure why. It really makes me think of moving to England, and of being in airports. Next week, I get to go to an airport. Several. I even get to go to England. Unfortunately, I don't have that tape anymore, though I do have a walkman, but it feels bulky now.

Sometimes, I think about how different my life would have been if the internet and mp3s were around when I was a teenager. Being distracted enough by Much Music, I don't think I would have been able to handle the extra stimuli. Obviously nothing has changed: I am supposed to be working on writing up my thesis right now but here I am, just like in my teens. That is so depressing, to know you haven't changed.

My internet spell-check does not recognise the word walkman. Not even with a capital 'W'.

Friction

2008-09-02T22:24:00.006-05:00

Last weekend, I went camping with B and J-Lo. Amidst the fun and nonsense was enough tension to last me the rest of the year. Unfortunately, most of it came towards the end. The words 'duck' and 'mountain' together will forever ring slightly off-key to me.

The first two days of canoeing, swimming, hiking, Frisbee - all these were great. The sun shone, spirits were up... then B and I got into an argument over the dinner while J-Lo was taking a nap. Even though I think of it as a separate space, a tent doesn't have the thickest of walls. J-Lo dealt with the awkwardness commendably. Dinner became a joint effort, however, embarrassment lurked in the shadows a little too long.

The next, and final, morning, B decided we had to get out of there as soon as possible, no discussion; not even J-Lo's drying tent was to stand in the way of the taking down of the tarp. His reasons for immediate exodus remain unclear to me and J-Lo was left clearly, and duly, offended by B's dismissive way. Shortly afterwards, we got in the car and headed home, accompanied by the kind of atmosphere that forms when something weird happens between people but they ignore it because they've never gone there before so they don't know what else to do. So the air grows thick. Six sweet hours cramped together, us and that atmosphere.

Before The Dinner Fight, I had read my first Alice Munro short story. It was mildly creepy. She can really capture a mood, and for that reason, I would have liked for her to have been with us on the way home so she could finish this entry for me because it would probably be bang-on.

Do you ever get the sense that it is up to you to take affirmative action to improve an awkward situation? Only you are in a position to make things better? Whenever I start to think those thoughts, I feel like I'm not positive enough or funny enough or upbeat enough to be up for it, otherwise I would have just done it without thinking twice. This was another thing I was thinking about.

Alice Munro is not guest-posting here unfortunately, but in my preoccupation with her, the mood, my role in it all, and how I'd write about it, I had neglected to notice that we were approximately two millilitres away from an empty tank. Long, straight, gravel road, dreary sky, pouring rain, and let's not forget that atmosphere! The next town was 31 km away.

Cue: another argument.

We made it to the gas station in time, thank god, and things began to actually improve. That was mainly because we stopped for lunch at Shitty's for some bad food, which is not always funny, but that day it was.

Cliché

2008-08-27T20:12:00.003-05:00

A frog on a lily pad...

is like slipping on a banana peel... which I have done... or like helping a little old lady across the road. So exciting when it actually happens.

Sociable

2008-08-18T17:08:00.007-05:00

It has been a friendly couple of weeks.

B went to Cow Pie for a wedding recently but I stuck around because I was expecting some visitors. First, it was Grant and Bim Bambi, looking more relaxed than ever, which is astonishing considering they have two children under the age of three. We all went out for dinner, grandparents too, and then just the two of them came over to see our place. While they were visiting, the phone rang three times. One was J-Lo, laying low of late due to hardcore thesis-writing, and another was the Apple to my Pear. The third I didn't answer. I postponed chatting due to the unusual circumstances of visitors and called them back the next day.

J-Lo defends his thesis tomorrow. Gah! I am so happy for him, though with a tinge of envy. It's not like he hasn't worked at it. We haven't hung out in weeks.

The conversation with Apple-to-Pear was long, interesting and hilarious. My ear was killing me afterwards. Such fun we had!

Lolabola came to visit two days later. We did the usual stuff: walked around, drank beer, looked at photos... it just sounds dull to read, but I can't tell you how nice it is to be around an old friend, especially this old friend. I could sit beside her on a kerb all day and be totally content.

Then out of the blue, I had an invitation from a recent acquaintance to meet at the pub for a group drink. (Why do people invite me for a drink but never to go ice climbing, say for example? Not that I am complaining...) B was home at this stage and happy to be invited to go out with someone new. On the way we stopped to water the garden, which is looking lush. We picked a few of these before anyone else could get to them first.

If ever you are going out with potential new friends and you think you might not have anything to talk about, bring along a tomato.

Work it

2008-08-09T01:25:00.007-05:00

New job started this week. I've just spent the time getting oriented, reading, that sort of thing, so there hasn't been much action yet. Yesterday, I had most of the lights in my office taken out. This office is very small with two large windows all along one wall and long, fluorescent lights that come on automatically and stay on all day. (What kind of logic came up with that?) Anyway, with the exception of the air conditioner, it's now a very nice space. From the sixth floor there, I have a view of rooftops and treetops, and I can see all the dragonflies zooming around.

Being 'in their employ', I am not permitted to speak negatively about the government. That's okay as I don't have any particular fire inside that wants to burn its way out - I hope that if I did, I wouldn't be working there in the first place - but it will take some practice not to mention the odd weakness in informal conversation. I caught myself doing this the other day and I felt the way I do when I am gossiping - just a habit, I guess, being generally negative! Must work on that.

However, were a small fire to begin to smoulder, I suppose this is as good a platform as any from which to let it burn. So I might as well let you in on one small irony: while it is not recommended that I write a letter to the editor, say for example advocating improvements to cycling infrastructure, it appears that should I choose to drive a hummer to work - for a government that's trying to be green - I will get the parking spot closest to the entrance.

B and I are DINKs now. We might be able to afford to lease one fairly soon.

Go ahead, where do I park my bicycle, huh?

2008-07-28T22:28:00.004-05:00

I think I was in about grade four the last time I saw this. Em and I watched it while eating Goodies. I could remember having seen it long before then and it made me feel nostalgic - and curious and happy and freaked out, all at the same time. Now it makes me laugh because it's SO FUNNY!

I just read that Ernie was supposed to resemble an orange and Bert a banana. I did not know that. The interweb is a world of information.

It all ties together

2008-07-26T10:50:00.007-05:00

Holy crap. I’ve been so ‘busy’ that I haven’t told you my good news: I got a job.

Not the job I interviewed for. A different one. A better one. ! The interview counted towards other positions in the department, but I didn’t think it would be anything like this: I am to be part of a newly-formed unit with the provincial government, analysing policy for greenhouse gas emissions reductions programs, which is my favourite topic, after this.

There were two planning conferences here last week - the main source of the 'busy-ness' - and at one of them, I went on a workshop where we toured around this very neighbourhood, stopping at various places to highlight that ever-unanswerable question: Revitalisation or gentrification? As we walked along a stretch of old mansions, I saw a very serene-looking balcony peeking through the trees of one of the lots.

It had little lanterns strung up. I felt peaceful just looking at it. It turns out that this is a housing co-op so we stopped and had a look at it and one of the residents, who was sitting on the porch, told us a bit about it. Then a woman I recognised emerged and offered to show us around. It took me a minute to figure out that she used to date an old friend in Cow Pie. I hadn't seen her in maybe eight years. She's doing her PhD in Sociology now and was actually planning on attending the conference the next day, which was interesting because it was a very small conference.

At the end-of-conference bash, which was the best fun ever, she invited me to a party at the housing co-op. I would get to see the balcony from within!

That was last night. I saw the balcony from inside the house, and it was fabulous, but I spent the night on the front porch. Parties where you know literally one person can be dull. B and I usually end up trying to look like we're thrilled to have one another to ourselves, but last night was different. The people there were welcoming and friendly, and most of them didn't know too many others, either. I met my first ever dental hygienist outside a dentist's office, a Coronation Street fan and another policy wonk. We talked about what 'wonk' might mean. I said 'appendage'; she said 'nerd'.

Appendage or nerd, ever since finding out about this job, a calm confidence has settled on me. Not that all was Impending Doom up until that point, but I had this prickly feeling of things being off-kilter. It' s like I'm on the balcony now.

And just so you're aware, this is outside my window right now:

I love this neighbourhood!

It's the new style

2008-07-11T12:12:00.004-05:00

As today is my bloggiversary, I am celebrating with a slightly different version of the same, which I hope you will find at least palatable enough to come back.

Especially you, Lolabola. I am taking a big risk.

Happy anniversary, blog!

I welcome the new year with a story about another makeover, that of One Great City!'s slogan. The mayor is in the process of taking down the yellow-and-blue welcome signs in anticipation of something new. We're not sure what. He himself is vouching for City of Opportunity, which he referred to in the welcome address in the program of a conference being held here soon, capital letters and all.

It's a little bit cheeky, don't you think, jumping the gun like that? What about the public consultation?

I think this really sucks, and not just because I will no longer have a fun name to call this place on my blog. It's just really boring. If there's one thing that gives me a pain, it's the overuse of a word like 'opportunity'. Or 'innovation'. Ugh. We have an Innovation Drive here - it's new. Innovation Drive in The City of Opportunity. It's just more branding, another attempt to associate this city with an image that is really not true to the spirit of the place at all.

I was going to end this with a deeper dive into the issue followed by an insightful (another tired word!) alternative, but I gotta go! Folk fest is calling and I need to pack up my wellies.

The first of July

2008-07-04T22:41:00.004-05:00

July?

Already?

July means Canada Day, which I like a lot. My favourite one was when I lived in Korea. I went up to Seoul with some friends to a party hosted by the Canadian Embassy. It was held outdoors in a greenspace with a hill. Nearly all attendees were fellow ESL teachers, congregating from all corners of our tiny peninsula (which is really only a peninsula on the map; in practice it is more like an island). Lunch was barbequed burgers, brownies and Kokanee. The music was all the usual stuff that, unless you’re at a Canadian Embassy-sponsored party, you’d never hear outside of Canada. And, unless you’re at a Canadian Embassy-sponsored party, you’d never want to hear anywhere. But I felt differently in this context. In Korea, I longed for a great many things I had never before thought twice about.

I felt so happy sitting on that hill with my friends, these great people I thought I'd know forever... who knew that one day they'd be just a poke away on facebook?

OK, so maybe the depth of these friendships has deteriorated over time.

This year was similar, but not as fun. It wasn’t bad company or shit music or dull entertainment. It was me.

I have been ‘hanging out, drinking’ too much lately to really enjoy it when I do it. Do you know what I’m talking about? Sometimes fun isn’t fun unless you’ve balanced it out with some nonfun, like work. By Tuesday, I hadn’t put myself through enough nonfun to really get the most out of the fun. I was all out of balance.

On Wednesday, I was back at it: I had my interview, worked five hours and finished two books. Thursday and Friday were similar. Therefore, I sense some fun on its way at the beach this weekend.

My attitude towards fun pains B. He could happily have ten Canada Days in a row, genuinely enjoying every moment. We are fodder for one another's hilarious jokes.

Under pressure

2008-06-30T10:05:00.005-05:00

I have a job interview on Wednesday. This is for an actual job - not a contract, not a part-time short-termer, but a job with a desk, a cubicle, co-workers and a commute (by foot, too!). It's a government job - analysing policy, reviewing grant applications, that sort of thing.

The first part of the interview was an assignment, which I just did, just now. It was kind of intense (if things can be intense in a 'kind of' way). I had to write a sample briefing note for a minister in one hour. I haven't had to write under pressure like that since the final exam of a poli sci course I took six years ago. Normally, I write at a ridiculously slow pace (part of the reason I don't update this blog very often) so this was the opposite of my habitual ways.

Typical me, I hadn't figured out what the assignment would be, so when it arrived in my inbox I thought, I must be a moron not to have seen that one coming! I didn't waste too much of the hour dwelling on my short-sightedenss and got on with writing. Before I knew it, the hour was up and there before me was a briefing note, proofread a risky single time but otherwise something about which I felt quite pleased.

The range of productivity in a small window of time always amazes me. Twenty minutes is not long, but I can think of a few instances where I've done more in 20 minutes than in an entire day. I miss that stress. If this job could bring some of that back into my life, then I really hope I get it.

Good stuff

2008-06-24T16:01:00.004-05:00

Thesis, I am happy to report, is chugging along nicely. Although I thought I'd be farther along at this point than I actually am, I feel better about it than ever. I have a topic which I have researched and analysed to produce outcomes. I know this because I had a proper conversation about it last Friday with a few people I hadn't met before.

That was Bike to Work Day, the best day ever. B and I were at the registration desk, signing people into the pancake breakfast. Being from Cow Pie, I am very wary of pancake breakfasts in other cities, but I was duly impressed. The pancakes were fluffy, instead of horrid reconstituted scrambled egg there was fruit and all the containers were compostable. The band (name forgotten, but they were kind of old country) was fantastic - what is better than live music outside at 8:00 on a sunny morning? Nothing.

Having to get up at 5:45 that morning stood as a good reason not to attend the Autumndude's next show, held the previous night. They had come back through town so we met two of them for a pub dinner instead. I couldn't face another night of badly pretending to be awake, so it was all for the best - especially when I found out later that the show went on until 4:30! Dinner was hilarious, especially when we talked about passport photos, always a conversational favourite, especially when someone has one to share, which someone did. Someone blond.

A good friend

2008-06-13T09:43:00.003-05:00

The Autumndude came through town last weekend so B and I went to see their show. It's always fun to see friends out of the usual context. We had a drink at a nearby cafe because the venue they were playing at - which was Plan B because the original was recovering from a flood - wasn't technically a licensed bar, though once things got going they were accepting 'donations' in exchange for brown bottles. When we moseyed over, there were quite a few people there - or maybe it just felt that way because it was so small. I got talking to this odd guy who was dressed like Merlin. He was one of those people who has allegedly worked all over the world but has chosen to settle in One Great City! Why, I don't know. He asked me what I did and when I told him I was in school he said, still?, which is quite funny because you're just not supposed to say that sort of thing if you're slick, which I think he thought he was. From then on, he kept shouting out a shortened version of my name to people when I passed him and announcing that I had my master's, which is neither true nor of much interest to people who don't know me (or to people who do, for that matter!). Anyway, he was nice enough.

This was the evening after the run. At the best of times, I'd be ready for bed 10:00, so things weren't looking promising when the first act didn't get going until 11:00 or so. I managed to stay awake for the first two bands, and both were excellent, but alas, I couldn't make it through that last stretch, so there I was, passed out in the front row of a teeny-tiny venue as my good friends played and sang their hearts out. What a supportive fan.

She has her master's, though.

Moanie-pants

2008-06-11T18:33:00.001-05:00

Normally, I run for fun and exercise, but for two or three weeks there I was Running for a Purpose, which was to ‘train’ to do 10km in one of those charity races. Having this task to complete by a certain date was really motivating, and once I did it, I felt very accomplished. Funny how that works.

It has now been four days since my last run and I miss it. I had a day of rest, followed by a day of laziness, at which point I was hit with a sore throat which has morphed into a kind of indescribable all-body malaise that leaves me devoid of both energy and positivity. Witness: my thesis sucks but I have almost no work at the moment so I have to write it now but I'm tired. The mirror seems to reflect this dowdy, expressionless face and hair that screams, do something drastic to me now! My posture is getting worse, my only friend talks solely about his ex-girlfriend, and I have no libido. Even the weather is shite – June isn’t meant to be Wool Hat Month.

I am so lucky not to have to listen to me as I search for a new point to myself.

Co

2008-06-01T18:45:00.000-05:00

B and I applied to live in a housing co-op about three weeks ago. The whole thing was a bit like applying for a job, only we the applicant were two people instead of one person. It was strange but not.

We got a call for an interview shortly after we dropped the application in the mail box. We expected there to be two or three people asking the questions, but instead it was the whole co-op. It wasn't a big deal and the person who did most of the talking said right off the bat that it was awkward for everyone involved, not just us, but that there was no way around it so we all should try to be as relaxed as possible. We sat in a circle (on chairs! It wasn't that bad!), drank juice and answered some questions, similar to the ones asked in the statement of interest we'd written along with the application, about why we wanted to live like that, what contributions we could make to the place, what we foresaw as problems...

All was going quite well. I was nervous and tomato-faced as I always am in a group of more than about three, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. B was a good mix of even and enthusiastic. After a while, I got the sense that they really liked us. That is, until we let the cats out of the bag (I apologise for not being able to resist that one). This was a pet-free co-op, but as always, we were unsure of just how rigid that rule was so we had decided to wait until they got to know us a little bit before blurting it out. When we did come out with it, the reaction was the kind they'd have given had they all eaten a lemon.

Not a very bendable rule, apparently. I joked about The End of the Interview Effective Immediately, but they explained that this was an issue that had been up for discussion before and that they'd talk it over again, and we carried on. They have this policy because the idea is for the space to be accessible to all and a number of members were highly allergic to cats. I can totally understand this (though I didn't appreciate being asked how attached we are to them by one person).

After another half hour of chatting informally, we were told to expect a call within a week. Fast forward two weeks and no word from the co-op. We had decided in the meantime that maybe it wasn't the best place for us because of the location (a little less central) and the size of the apartment itself (huge - if anything, we'd like to be somewhere smaller). I asked one of the occupants (one of three I've known since long before the interview) what was happening, and she informed me that the place had been given to someone else, which is probably the best thing. She said she assumed someone else had called to tell us (which is pretty funny because an assumption is something I don't think she'd accept as an excuse from someone else!).

So, this particular co-op was not to be. However, also in the meantime, we have been helping out J-Lo with a community garden plot. I know jack shit about gardening but I had some fun digging up weeds for half the day last weekend. We bought a pile of seeds and plants and put them in the soil. The more seasoned gardeners around smiled at us and our little tomato plants, so naive are we to think that we'd actually get to eat any of them. People take those when they walk by, you know.

Now I do. But as long as someone's enjoying it, I will happily shift my focus from eating to nurturing.

Ze Cure

2008-05-22T18:19:00.005-05:00

Madly working on other stuff distracts me from the things that are truly important. So, a few more things about Chicago while I have a chance here...

When you live in a place like One Great City!, where it only takes half an hour to get anywhere from the city centre, you need to remember to plan ahead for a trip to the end of the train line in a big city. Otherwise you will be late to see the show that served as the catalyst for the entire trip to said big city in the first place. Not only did we not allow enough time to get there on time, and not only were we late to leave, but service ended that night at the stop before the one at which we were to get off, so we had to catch a shuttle bus, just to add another step to drag the journey out that little bit longer. The shuttle took us to another bus which would take us to the stadium itself, but this particular bus only went by the stadium, not to the stadium, so we were dropped off at the top of a road leading into the parking lot. It was dark. It was raining. There was no sidewalk.

I hate suburbia.

Had it only been B and me, I would have been cursing like crazy, but since we were with friends, I kept my mood in check and really had no hard time at all being positive, albeit with an anxious tinge. We finally got to the actual entrance doors and I could hear 'Love Song' and by the time everyone had gone to the bathroom and got a beer and we had found our seats (which of course someone had occupied) they were on to 'Pictures of You'.

I loved it. I really was just the happiest clam ever. Yes, it was a big arena and no, we weren't close, but it was such a treat to get to sit there and watch them live, something I'd long given up on - but there I was! And they were good! They sounded good and looked good - from where I was, anyway! - even without a synthesiser.

They played for almost three hours, a fact I know only because I read that in the paper. Let's say it was a quick three hours for me. When I think about it, they did go through all sorts of stuff, some of which I didn't recognise because I hadn't heard it in such a long time (I love that. 'Hey, I forgot about this song!'). Robert Smith was different than I'd expected, chattier and more lively. He also did a lot of swearing; not as in 'Fuck off!' but as in 'I'm sorry my fucking voice is fucking crap tonight' (he had a sore throat, apparently) but English people always speak like that, don't they?

:)

Looking around, the crowd was mostly people my age or older, and seeing how excited everyone got over the pop hits, it dawned on me that maybe a lot of people see them as one of those nostalgia bands. I know the '80s are back but some of the get-up was a bit too authentic. I began to realise that perhaps some of these fans do not take them as seriously as I do. Are they to The Cure what I am to Duran Duran? And if so, what difference does it make? Everyone there was just having a good time. I guess I generally take most things too seriously.

The way home was equally silly, but we did get to chatting to a very friendly couple on the train who had seen The Cure twenty years previous and were going to see them again on the same tour in California. They hadn't heard of One Great City! but they had been to Niagara Falls, which is funny because most people I know have never been to Niagara Falls.

--

Chicago is all about the revolving door. That is because the buildings are so tall. You knew that. I knew that too but it was pretty exciting to be in a place where you really had to use that door, where it wasn't just a quaint little option.

--
Obviously I wrote this ages ago and I'm finally posting it today, Sunday.

Sweet home...

2008-05-21T16:39:00.007-05:00

Car trip to Chicago with three others was a success. In numbers:

Fights amongst all: zero
Inane arguments with boyfriend only: three (must work on that)
Tense moments for no reason in particular: a few, but rather than experiencing them directly, I was told about them
Laughs: uncountable

Day One: In car - k's. Arrived in Chicago, via a loop round O'Hare 'just for fun', at 11:30pm. Dined on pizza before bed. Hostel was noisy and bed very uncomfortable - you know when you lie down and put a sheet over yourself and no one would know there's a person in the bed? That kind of uncomfortable.

Day Two: Being A Tourist, Part I. Coffee. Breakfast. Bus ride. Sears Tower. Walking. Lunch. Self-guided sculpture tour. More walking. Navy Pier. Ferris Wheel. Dinner. Swings. Stained glass museum. Walking. Nasty bus lady. Hostel. 'Blues' bar. Bed. Noise. Too tired to notice, so had to be told about that, too.

This sculpture is called the flamingo and is "just an example of the laughs we have around here"

Day Three: Being A Shopper. Ate crepes down the street from the hostel: this is probably how all successful people start their days. Walked to Bucktown. Much as I hate shopping, I love to browse around a place like this, full of odd shops and one-off bars and cafes; so much so that I wasn't disappointed to be the only one to come home with no bag. Eventually we got back to the hostel to change into our Cure Fan costumes (ummm, jeans and a black t-shirt for me!) and took the train to some arena in oblivionland.

And it was there that I finally saw my all-time favourite band. More on that later.

Day Four: Being A Tourist, Part II. Coffee. Walk to Lincoln Park. Lincoln Park Zoo. Old Town. Cabrini-Green. Coffee. Prada Shop. Failed rendezvous with companions. Magnificent mile. Pay phone fiasco. Lunch outside John Hancock centre. Successful call from pay phone, leading to successful rendezvous with companions. Art Institute. Millennium Park. Giant Jelly Bean thingie. Pizzeria Due. Best pizza of my life. Noisy Texans. Bus ride. Pint. Noisy hostel-goers. Poor sleep.

How cute is this little gaffer? His nose twitched while he dreamt.

Day Five: In car. Half quiet and dull, half joke-laden and hilarious. In bed of comfortable silence by 1:45am.

Fun time! This was a whirlwind of a trip, but I could wander around there for months. There's such a diversity of things to see.

One Great City! is often, wrongly, referred to as the Chicago of the North. This is mainly because there is a smattering of buildings downtown which resemble those in Chicago. And maybe because of the shitty winters. I don't really know why, actually. I think we hang on to it because, as I allude to from time to time, One Great City! has low self-esteem, so to compare itself to Chicago is like highlighting the really good bits - there are some, but it's not the same. A few years ago, I went to a lecture by a local historian who wanted to dispel the myths about One Great City! and this moniker was one he thought we should shake off, mainly because it's inaccurate. Chicago is huge, millions of people live there - it has even burnt to the ground and been built back up. It's just misleading to compare the two; I'd say it extracts more confidence than it injects.

Instead, we called Chicago the One Great City! of the South.

I sign off with a tune by a great artist who runs a club on the Near South Side. If I ever get to go back, I will go there.

Style section

2008-05-14T13:48:00.011-05:00

Whenever someone comes to visit, I buy the Globe & Mail so there's something to pick up and flip through during any lulls. Really, though, I just like to take advantage of the opportunity to do this myself, but I don't want to do it every weekend because it feels like too much extra reading.

I love the Style section. If not for the occasional visitor, I may well have no idea what is going on in the world of contemporary fashion (panic!). I like looking at the pictures and reading the captions underneath with the introductory pun, followed by required information like the name of the elite shop in which said item can be purchased (always in Toronto; never, ever in One Great City!) and the price (always outrageous. This isn't The Sun, people.). This weekend there were stools and chairs on the design page whose prices are listed as available only by request. If a chair costing $3700 can have its price listed, I really wonder what price warrants being left out. Perhaps I should put in a request?

If I were to list a few things Globe-style that I've recently acquired, my Style section would look a little like this:

Don't just talk the talk in these earthen-toned hiking boots by Dr Marten.
Brown leather hiking boots, $0 at The Laundry Room.

Darling leave a light on for me
Brighten things up with this Japanese-inspired lampshade, available in ivory only.
Paper lampshade, $0 at The Laundry Room.

Okay, I know I am coming across as very cheap; too cheap to even pay a nickel for my own stuff. And while I am not fond of shopping, these were lucky finds that I stumbled upon, abandoned in the thrift store that a corner of the laundry room has become, items I actually had in mind to look for.

Do you think that having money and rarely spending it is like wasting youth on the young, or happiness on perpetual complainers? Maybe actively avoiding spending money when you have it is as obnoxious as spending it for the sake of spending it.

I know a few genuinely cheap people and they drive me crazy. For a while, I am carried along with their frugality, resourcefulness and commitment to minimising waste, but when my offer of going out for a drink is never taken up because it's cheaper to drink at home, I start to wonder if the line has been crossed from admirable asceticism to miserable existence.

When to spend is a dilemma for me, truly. I have no interest in shopping and I don't like to buy things that aren't edible because I don't want to accumulate all that junk. More deeply, I am uncomfortable with materialism; it's something you can really hide behind, you know? But at the same time, there is stuff out there that I like and it wouldn't kill me to make some effort to keep up with the times, fashion-wise. Also, appropriated poverty? Slumming it is pretty loathsome. I guess I am aiming for some balance between enjoying the tangible parts of life and not being wasteful, and it need not matter whether it comes from the alley or the mall, but I don't feel like I'm there yet. I'm tipped too far in one direction - obviously not towards the Globe's Style section!

--

I haven't been writing much lately because it's taking me forever to churn anything out. That's because I don't write often enough. And so it goes.

That said, I won't be writing for a few days because I am going to Chicago tomorrow.

I. Am. Excited.

I might buy something nice.

--

The visitor, by the way, was Dad!

Can you see us? B took this photo.

I draw a blank

2008-05-06T16:21:00.005-05:00

I have nothing to say right now but it's been a while since I've written, and Best Friend may be tired of that picture, so I will just write whatever comes to mind.

I had one of those hour-long conversations on a street corner this morning. You know the kind, where the group of four breaks up to go back to the office or wherever, but just before you leave, you quickly exchange a few words with one of those four, the one with whom you are working on something else, and for some reason the word exchange takes an hour? I do always enjoy those, though.

Normally, it is chocolate and cookies that I crave, but this week, I am all over dried fruit. Peaches are the best, but they are also the most difficult to dig out of the bulk bin, especially with that silly scoop - great for rice, terrible for anything actually bulky.

Watched Michael Clayton on the weekend. Tilda Swinton was great.

Reading The Omnivore's Dilemma at the moment. All food is corn. Who knew? Excited to finish it and start The God Interviews. Thanks, Lolabola!

Back to running these days, but only a few times a week, otherwise I feel like I'm avoiding the thesis. The river banks are mucky, adding plenty of weight to my shoes and sending mud flying in all directions. Passers by, beware.

C'est tout.

Happy birthday, Best Friend!

2008-04-28T12:22:00.003-05:00

I said I would call but I haven't, so hence, here is a haiku:

Lolabola is
a person who likes to eat
perogies for lunch.

Not technically about nature. Oh well.

I dedicate this video (crap sound and all, but worth watching to the bitter end) to you:

His space

2008-04-22T20:44:00.004-05:00

Thinking of visiting One Great City!? Say 'hello' to your new bed:

Cat included.

This happens with the arrival of each new piece of furniture. It's as though he's trying to speak to it on a spiritual level, working hard at some weird animal-mineral bond. The quality of this photo was crappy, so I put a filter on it, but I wanted you to see this rare posture, a bizarre mix of meditative relaxation and territory-marking (because normally he's curled up, sleeping, like any other cat). Like a blue moon, it only comes by once in a while. Unlike a blue moon, it coincides with new furniture.

Please don't mistake this posture for an indicator of extreme comfort. Actually, it's not bad. It folds down and sleeps two, erm, skinny people.

Pictures!

2008-04-22T19:44:00.013-05:00

As you may know, 'camera' has been on our list of Shit To Get for a while now, but considering the cost, we had to wait for the right time. Meanwhile, B had the ingenious idea of looking into the possibility of some assistance from air miles. Considering the last time he checked he had enough for one free video rental, I wasn't too hopeful, but it turned out he now had enough for two $25 Staples gift certificates (thank-you, MLCC!). These, plus the fact that we were interested in last year's model, meant we got a real bargain.

On Saturday, we woke our bikes up from hibernation and took them out for some Ukrainian food. On the way there and back, we stopped on one of my favourite bridges, which, you guessed it, is the visual theme of this post. I finally get to show it to you!

Clearly, the rail line is not taking any chances with suicides.

The picture at the top of this post was the view on one side of the bridge. This was on the other:

Moon left, light right.

You & me

2008-04-19T15:40:00.003-05:00

A couple of days ago I had what was, I've now decided, my last interview for my thesis. That's fourteen altogether and it's enough. I thought of doing one more with a particular kind of person but I think it's unnecessary - I'm already four people beyond the number initially proposed. No need to overdo the overdoing.

Meanwhile, I've been slogging through the transcriptions, and while it may be mind-numbing and painfully slow, at least each interview is under an hour and a half, and at least I don't have thirty of them to do. Anyone I meet who has undertaken the same task has always had just so much more to do than I have, which is good because I realise that it can get done eventually, but also bad because I wonder when I became such a wimp as to think I can get away with complaining about a measly fourteen interviews.

Of course, a certain amount of each sound file is my own voice, and I find it pretty interesting how much I change from one interview to the next. There's hyper me and excessively agreeable me and cautious me and sympathetic me and even-toned me (all of which irritate the piss out of me when I have to listen to them being played back) and it just seems that I don whichever hat feels appropriate, which I suppose must depend on some kind of vibe I sense being exuded by the other person. It makes me wonder two things: first, could I have acted out some other shape of myself and if so, would the interview have proceeded differently in a way that we both would have noticed?; and second, which one of them are they showing me and what is it about me that made them show that particular self?

I try to treat everyone the same, but is it really possible? Where one person will laugh at something I say, another will change the subject. In return, my response will vary. It's not that one is more favourable than the other (though who doesn't enjoy having their jokes laughed at?) or that anybody is at fault; I think it's that as two people together we become something else, part you, part me, all us, but I'm never quite the same as I am on my own or with a different person.

If this is so, how is it related to the phrase 'I don't like him'? Do I not like him? Do I not like me around him? Do I not like us? When I think of the people I really like, I think that I really like myself, too.

I think that my feelings towards others is perhaps more dependent on this idea of 'us' than I normally acknowledge.

God said, one question. He said, what's the capital of Peru? God said, Lima!?

2008-04-09T21:40:00.006-05:00

B and I have been really into bean dishes lately. One of our cookbooks is full of them, and over the past few months we've had just about every bean going.

One winter I used mostly dried beans, then I went back to cans for a while to save time, but recently I bought a bag of dried lima beans, for a change I guess. Last night, I put the whole bag in cold water for a few hours and forgot about them. They started to split and wrinkle. I thought for sure they were a lost cause, but I cooked them anyway, leaving them to simmer for about two hours. I drained them and had a quick taste. I was beside myself. They were absolutely delicious - creamy and nutty. Just like that. No salt, nothing.

Maybe it was because my expectations were so low, but I don't think so: I went to a workshop today on seniors' transportation, and even though it was interesting and kept me very busy, my mind kept wandering back to the lima beans. It was a little like when you're a kid and you get a new pair of shoes: you get wrapped up in something for a few minutes and then you remember that there is a small, new, truly wonderful thing in your life that you are excited about and you're like, The shoes! Well, The beans! I couldn't wait to get home and experiment.

The recipe I followed was nice, but the strong flavours drowned out the limas (lemon, tomato, feta, thyme - go figure). No biggie as I have a whole half of a gigantic jar left... to spread on toast! Blend into a beverage! Sprinkle on cornflakes! Eat neat! Endless possibilities.

(Maybe my mind wanders back occasionally to lima beans with fondness when I'm otherwise spending my time feeling like I'm making some sort of contribution, however small, but the above level of detail can only be thought out at something like tonight's Coolie meeting... which just got cooler, if that's possible.)

Channel

2008-04-05T09:43:00.006-05:00

I went to a great show with B a few nights ago at our favourite venue, the one with the well-stocked beer fridge. If it's a folksy kind of show, like it was that night, there are always little tables and chairs set up, so it's a bit like being in a pub with live music, only bigger and without the food. Then J-Lo and his new lady turned up with two other friendly people and we all sat together. A definitive night out - what fun!

The opening act was a local musician who played piano and sang in a breathy voice. I liked her a lot. She sang some very funny songs, including one about Brian Stewart, her favourite CBC News anchor.

(Just as an aside, my favourite news anchor is, big surprise, Ian Hanomansing. Em and I considered starting a fan site for him. I'll bet it would get lots of hits.)

Anyway, when this musician spoke in between songs, she had this sweet, high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like her singing voice. It's fascinating how that can happen.

The time I was most taken aback by this phenomenon was at last summer's folk festival, when I heard Death Vessel. k's friend said she thought he was channelling someone when he sang. I don't know, but the whole thing was mesmerising.

He doesn't speak here, but when he does, his voice is very deep.

The tag

2008-03-28T10:51:00.005-05:00

From the lovely Lolabola. Five things you may well not know about me:

1) I really like the Stephen Avenue 'trees', but I agree with this evaluation of how they don't quite enhance the pedestrian experience.

2) The book I have on the go, White Teeth, pisses me off because the writer doesn't take any of her characters seriously. I think flippancy is condescending.

3) I always imagine explaining to someone why I don't like Stephen Harper so that I am sure of myself, but no one ever asks so I am never challenged. I think they don't ask because they don't care, which depresses me - not that they're uninterested in my opinion but that they're uninterested in political ideology.

4) The doctor found a small lump in my breast in October. I spent two weeks feeling very frightened, then two weeks not worried at all, until I saw a specialist. He figured it was a cyst, so he tried to burst it with a needle but no fluid came out. He told me to come back in two months if it doubled in size. It didn't, so I didn't. But it is still there. Last month, I wondered if I should be doing something about it. Should I worry? I started to worry. I called the clinic. The nurse was straight-forward and understanding. She said that I was free to come back or not to come back; it was my decision. Then she told me to know my breasts. I decided to sit on it and see where my mind went. I have not worried since, and so I have not gone back, but I might. Meanwhile, I monitor my breasts.

5) I think boys look better in make-up than girls.

Tag: Ando!

Egg

2008-03-24T10:17:00.004-05:00

This Easter was a bit of an even because a) we had visitors, b) we did Easter-y things, and c) I got to have a proper cup of tea.

a) Cousin stopped over on her round-the-world trip with Friend on Friday. I met them at the local train station, which, like most train stations, goes by the name of 'Union Station'. They stayed for two nights. It was great to have visitors; not only is it just fun by nature, it can also give you a reason to tackle things you'd been putting off, like cleaning or trying a new restaurant. We had it in mind to rearrange our apartment so that the use of space would better meet our needs as modern-day young professionals (can you believe there are environments where saying something like that is acceptable?) so the arrival of Cousin + Friend acted as a deadline. We didn't quite build the Dream Home in time as there are still a few piles of stuff stacked here and there (I hold J-Lo and his Scotch drinking responsible) but it feels like we've moved into a new place, maybe even enough to warrant throwing a pseudo-housewarming party.

Cousin + Friend were fab visitors. It's cold again, but they were still eager to walk around and see some sights. The food at the fish and chip shop was crappy this time around, but they gobbled it up. Sunday morning, they made us an enormous, delicious breakfast.

Cousin is one of only two people to visit us twice, but that will soon change. Yay! We love visitors.

b) Saturday morning, B boiled eight eggs so that on Sunday, we could each have two to decorate. We used food colouring so we could eat them later. I think I'll have one for lunch. We also bought a few chocolate eggs, but we didn't hide them. Dad hid eggs for Em and I well into our twenties. January would roll around and you'd put your foot into a ski boot and find a chocolate egg.

c) I did not have one cup of herbal tea yesterday.

Oh, that's cool

2008-03-13T17:57:00.009-05:00

Spring has popped up out of nowhere and One Great City! is a giant, dirty slurpee. Winter is not completely gone, but the beloved skating trail is a shadow of its former self. *sigh*

Last night I took the bridge rather than short-cutting on the river (I thought the warm weather would have made that a little too risky) on the way to a meeting about a planning conference to be held this summer. I like these meetings less and less with each one I attend, not so much because they are often pointless and always too long, but because the conference is turning into a coolie gathering. Band Guy was there last night, and Scenester, and Name-Dropper, and Queen of the Do-Good Organisations (you know, the one who is a member of all non-profits in the city, who has shot up her hand to volunteer to do yet another thing before you even had a chance to realise that you could, in fact, contribute something there), all shouting out one wicked-awesome idea of which unusual non-venue to host the thing after another. I sat there wondering, why does everyone have to bring their ibooks to these things? Is there some clause that comes with the purchase of an ibook that prevents one from legally using paper and pen ever again?

The Chair of the meetings, who is great, has a bit of each of these personae in him (don't we all? Though I'd hardly call him a queen of any kind) and networking is, I am pretty sure, both his favourite word and activity. However, he is against starting a group for this event on facebook, which would actually be very useful here. Facebook. The social NETWORKING site. He refuses to join. How can that be when it was invented specifically for him?

Eventually, the 'party' ended and I walked back over the bridge with another person who hadn't said much, either. We had a funny conversation that started with lost traditional gardening skills and ended with how our bodies will one day mesh with machines so that cell phone and human will be indistinguishable, which I then said was like a Philip K. Dick story.

Identifying with your Mac? Denying your true facebook identity? Dropping the name of a dead sci-fi writer? I can't take it.

Really

2008-03-08T08:40:00.001-06:00

I am really getting sick of herbal tea.

Hey, get on the bus!

2008-03-04T16:47:00.005-06:00

Thesis is once again being tackled: I've spent two afternoons traipsing around the city posting notices in libraries to try to recruit interviewees. This took some intense planning. I haven't embraced winter cycling here in One Great City! so the bus it was. After spending a lot of time sprawled on the floor with a transit map and the whereabouts of each library, then alternating between the on-line trip planner and schedules, the idea of chaining these visits into one or two easy trips was lost. For the first time in a long time I thought, a car would be kind of handy right now. As would a cell phone... and a watch...

But really, it worked out fine. Who cares if you have to wait for a bus for twenty minutes when you have a book?

Yesterday and today were completely different. Yesterday was bright, clear, sunny and freezing cold. I wore my enormous jacket, but not my boots for some reason, headed south and eventually got lost in mall-parking-lot hell. One Great City!'s transit system does this strange thing where a bus with two or three quite different routes will have the same number, so it caught me that time. My feet froze waiting for the bus to backtrack and there was a long path-free stretch leading to one library due to drifting snow, but otherwise it was a fruitful venture because I got a call from an interested party that evening. Hopes are up!

Today was snowy, cloudy, muffled - you know, when the snow is like a blanket laid over the city and everything seems quiet and immediate? - and verging on warm. I wore a much lighter coat and big boots and cold did not come into the picture once. I waited at one bus stop for nearly half an hour with about a dozen teenagers, all pouring out of class. It was 2:30. Since when does school end so early? Wasn't there talk of starting and ending classes later because of the teenage struggle to get out of bed in the morning? Whatever. I felt very slightly like a tool standing in their midst.

Why do people sometimes say that they don't like to ride the bus? Maybe it's crowded at times, and one of them was a little smelly today, and but what a senses feast. I'm with The Shuffle Demons on this one.

Spending time

2008-02-21T08:47:00.003-06:00

Apart from poorly managing my time, as usual, I don't know what I've been doing to result in this blogging famine of late. You must be starving, Dear Reader - ! It's not as though I'm working a whole lot on anything, I'm not running, I'm never on facebook anymore (are you? That was short-lived!), so what is going on? This is normally the place I go whether I've got other things to do or not. Maybe once I start writing, all these fascinating activities taking up my precious time will reveal themselves, but really, that's doubtful.

Work keeps changing. One project ends and another begins. Unpredictable, and still part-time, but interesting. Climate change has completely finished and livestock is just about wrapped up; these have been replaced with seniors' transportation and a sustainability plan for a small town waaay up north. The local transportation project continues. Sense of competence is okay, but maybe that's because I haven't had to chair any meetings. Or attend any, for that matter.

Thesis is stagnant, mainly because I'm moving to the next stage and I'm having a mental block. I don't feel like writing about this right now.

What I will write about is Fishy, J-Lo's aptly-, if somewhat unimaginatively-, named new pet. It's a Japanese fighting fish and it's in my care for a week while its owner gallivants around the country on business. His new girlfriend just 'gifted' him (as one of my profs likes to say) with this critter a few days ago so he brought it over in a tall, lonely-looking vase and instructed me to feed it 4 pellets a day. I put the vase-with-fish on a high shelf but that didn't stop the cat from noticing it immediately. Soon afterwards, I found him on the shelf below, meowing madly, trying to figure out a way to get up one more level. I threw the cat out of the room and closed the door for the night. The next day, I surrounded the vase with a book, a lunchbox and a plant and tested the cat's memory. Apparently, he has none, so Fishy swims in peace, cut off from the rest of the world by a copy of Madam Bovary. I check on it now and again and it seems content enough, but I just have a hard time understanding how anything can be happy stuck in a glass like that, alone, with nothing to do. Maybe I need to stop projecting human capacities onto fish.

I come across as sounding bitter there about having to look after J-Lo's fish, but I'm not at all. He always looks after our cats. He sounded so apologetic when he asked me to do this, as though he was sticking me with this god-awful responsibility at the last minute, that it made me wonder if I shouldn't recognise the burden on him when we go away with a little more grace. A six-pack will no longer cut it!

Also worth writing about is last night's lunar eclipse: The local astronomers had set up their telescopes at the two rivers here and, considering the bitter cold, there were a lot of people who showed up to have a peek at the moon, magnified. It was beautiful! Orange and brown! Craters! Shadows! Another, massive telescope was pointed at Saturn. I'd seen Saturn a few years earlier when I was working at that science-y place. It looked nothing like the clear, colourful pictures in magazines; it was more like a tiny, fuzzy, white dot with big ears. It was so much more fascinating, though, knowing I was looking at the real thing. I remember feeling awestruck by it. It felt the same last night.

B and I had some wine at the pub nearby afterwards. We are into red wine lately, mostly because it feels warmer than drinking beer, which is nice at this time of year. This is only the third time we've been to this particular pub, and we asked ourselves why we aren't there more often because it's nice. The first time was about two years ago, and the second was last Friday, after curling. There were about seven of us and we were all chatting away until the band got up to play. This tends to indicate the end of any conversation, which normally annoys me, but this time I didn't mind because the band was really good! They were three young guys who played the blues and they were fantastic.

I don't think this has shed any more light onto where I let the time go, but who knew writing about nothing could be so enjoyable?

Tagged

2008-02-14T21:48:00.005-06:00

...by Lolabola.

Books
Half way through Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Keep getting sidetracked by other books, like The Wal-Mart Effect and The End of Poverty, but that' s okay because it means I can drag Harry Potter out.

Just bought a graphic novel called "Pyongyang" by Guy Delisle. It's about ... North Korea! Looking forward to it.

TV
Watched an episode of "The Extras" tonight. Otherwise, just "Coronation Street", my favourite. Wherever there's a crisis, and there are many, someone is on hand with a mug of tea.

Music
B put this on last night:

We cannot seem to get enough of this tape! It keeps resurfacing.

Otherwise, I bought a Feist CD a while ago, which I love. She sounds different from her Night Gallery days! I also picked up the new Radiohead, which I haven't listened to enough to form an opinion, but I think it'll be good. And The Old Disc Jockey!

Tag anyone reading this who is not Lolabola?

More weather because I live in Canada and that's what we talk about

2008-02-13T09:21:00.005-06:00

I made a snow angel yesterday. It was a most beautiful day - the sun was shining and the sky was this incredible blue, it was cold but not stingingly so, and the snow was so fluffy and lovely, that light, dry kind, that I felt compelled to swim in it, or something close to that. I couldn't get enough of this day. It made me sad that I had spent all of it up to that point indoors "working".

(It feels silly to open a post as I did there because when I was a kid, it's not like I'd go home and write about a snow angel in my diary - if I had one, which I mostly didn't. Snow angels were just a part of normality, thus not really noteworthy. Not that anything noteworthy ever appears on this here blog.)

Yesterday was an anomaly. This is what the weather has generally been like lately:

Behold the bedroom window and all the icy action that can happen between "double glazing". It makes for some pretty patterns on the panes.

Give it up

2008-02-07T20:22:00.000-06:00

At the library yesterday, a man walked past me with a black, smudgy X on his forehead and I remembered that I forgot to give something up. I stopped being a Catholic a long time ago but I've never really let go of Lent. I just looove the opportunity to prove to myself that I can Go Without. So, what would it be this year? I've given up chocolate, meat, drinking, smoking and coffee in the past but none of those really exists in any substantial way in my life anymore (especially not the smoking, thank god!) so to give them up would not be very sacrificial of me. I decided on caffeine, because I drink a lot of tea. I'd already had a cup that morning, so I had missed the starting gun, but I figured I could make up for it at the end of Lent; that cup was out of memory lapse and not weakness, so totally forgiveable.

So today was my first caffeine-free day in what I am guessing is a really long time. I can't even remember the last time I avoided it altogether. Normally, I just have a hot beverage every few hours, some caffeinated, some not, without thinking about it too much, and I'm normally relatively alert. Today though, I just felt dopey and I had a headache.

Now, B has come home with some caffeine-laden chocolate, but I will be stashing that away for Easter because I am Going Without!

M-hmm. Feels good.

I still have that headache.

Snow bright

2008-02-05T21:11:00.000-06:00

This stack of snow is the new dirt pile. It's not drawing much of a crowd today but that must be due to the the cold temperatures we've been having because it displays a lot of fun potential.

Right next to this pile is an outdoor rink, which gets used quite a lot, especially for hockey, whether it's cold or not. Both rink and snow stack are right behind our apartment building, which is great because it means I can roll down a hill or go skating at a moment's notice if necessary - call me NOW and I'll meet you there in two minutes. (Usually, though, I go down to the river to skate because it's so much more fun to skate in a line than in a circle.)

The thing that's not so great is the lighting. Big, tall flood lights surround the rink, some of which shine directly into our apartment, which is fine, but after about 11pm, by which point all rink users are long gone, you'd think it might be time to turn them off. Not so. For some reason, these lights have been on all day and all night for the past 5 or 6 days, and for other sporadic days and nights over the past month or two. This is a bad case of excessive energy use and light pollution. When the lights are on, it's like daytime in our apartment.

I've already called the community centre twice about this, and once they actually pulled the safety card, to which I respond (in my mind only, as of yet) first, people deal drugs out there in broad daylight so extreme lighting isn't necessarily going to change that and if it does, the problem is being displaced not solved, and second, since the purpose of flood lights is to light a rink then we should use them for that; improved neighbourhood safety is a totally different issue and has lighting all its own. I get the economics behind doing two things with one lighting system, but it isn't really working here, and besides, that's a load. They are on because no one's bothered to turn them off, otherwise why would they be on in the daytime? I'll offer my light-turning-off services myself tomorrow. I wonder if they'll trust me?

More photo fun

2008-02-01T11:05:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was great! Went skating with me

went out for Ethiopian food with B

and came home to lots of nice messages.

This morning, two packages came in the mail.
This from Em

A lunchbag which she 'felted' herself. She even made the button, out of fimo. Every time I look at it, I laugh. Isn't it excellent?

(What is 'felted'?)

And this from Best Friend

Yay! I can't wait to listen to this, but I'm trying to catch up with the transcribing first, which I let slide a little this week.

(So how do I have time for all this writing?)

When I unwrapped the CD, I realised that the 'Old' in Old Disc Jockey referred to the disc, not the jockey. And all along I had that the other way around...

(Recognise that mug, anyone?)

Birthday

2008-01-31T17:07:00.000-06:00

Every time I go to borrow a camera from the U, they give me the exact same one, which is fine because I really like using it. I used to be able to borrow it for two weeks, but the guy doing the loaning these days has been very stingy indeed; he will barely let me get away with a few days. Here was our conversation:

Me: I'd like to borrow a camera.
Him: What kind?
Me: Just a point and shoot digital camera.
Him: A video camera or a still camera?
Me: (Thinking, yet again, that I have to use a more descriptive term for camera next time so I can skip this part of the conversation because it's annoying. My stance is, camera is camera. If I want a video camera, I say video camera. Like milk. Milk is milk and if I want chocolate milk I say chocolate milk.) Still.
Him: How long do you want it for?
Me: Can I bring it back on Tuesday?
Him: In five days? No, that's too long.
Me: Well, I live downtown, I'm not on campus very often, but I will be here on Tuesday.
Him: Tuesday morning?
Me: Yes.
Him: 9am?
Me: Sure.
Him: Ummmm, okay, but this goes against our policy.
Me: Thanks!
Him: And just so you know, there are lots of other students who live downtown.
Me: There are? I thought I was the only one.
Him: No, you're not, actually.

I wouldn't normally be so sarcastic towards a stranger, but this guy was being ridiculous. They don't have a policy of any kind - he has a policy. It was Thursday afternoon at this stage. When does he want me to return it - in one day? On Monday? What difference does it make? And since I get the same camera every time and it's there every time I go to get it, cameras aren't exactly in high demand, are they? I pay my tech fees every semester and I return the camera when I say I will and if someone else needed it in the meantime, I'd bring it back sooner, like a library book.

I know it's not fair of me to expect a longer loan based on a precedent established by other tech labbies. I really just want to complain about him because this isn't the first time he's been snarky. I think it's important to him that we both know he is the one holding the position of power.

Moving along, I can now show you pictures! (And yes, I will be using the damn camera for my thesis too, but leisure is a permitted reason to borrow one.)

A brown paper parcel has been sitting on the table for over a week, waiting for today to be opened, because today is my birthday. Let the fun begin!

This is what was inside the box, from B's mom:

On my 17th birthday, I woke up to a similar scene - Mom had laid out seventeen pairs of socks on the table for me. There are only (only!) seven pairs here, but this was just as exciting. And they're knee socks!

Even though the interaction with that guy brought me down, this is a great birthday so far.

A certain chill is in the air

2008-01-29T15:49:00.000-06:00

Holy CRAP it's cold outside. I like cold weather, but I draw the line at this wind. It just claws at the bridge of your nose (because if you are sane, that is the only piece of skin you will risk exposing) until all you feel is despair. A real-life version of a Dementor. Mwa ha ha.

I feel I must talk about the weather. Between Lolabola and me, who lives in the colder city?

One Great City!: -26 with a windchill of -44.
City of Champions: -28 with a windchill of -41.

I don't know what's worse. At least the sun is shining a little here.
--
Why does the cat insist on sitting on the coffee table? I have told him repeatedly not to sit there. I have even wagged my finger. He is so misbehaved. B calls him 'an evolutionarily advanced cat'. I think he's a brat.

He looks really funny there, in the middle of the coffee table, staring at the heater clanging away. Thank god it works!

Winter and gender

2008-01-28T16:37:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was a wonderfully sunny and warm (for January) day, and the world's longest skating path was packed to the gills with One Great City!-zens of all shapes and sizes. B thought it would be nice if there were a lane along the edge reserved for those who do not abandon skating just because it's -20; a kind of user's perk, not unlike what one might get with a season's pass at the local amusement park, with payment not in monetary form but in the act of plunging self wholeheartedly into winter regardless of temperature, which is much more egalitarian. Well, in the financial sense, at least. I mean, what if you're allergic to winter? There was a lady on the radio the other day who talked about this kind of heat rash she develops, but from the cold. Maybe she could apply for a subsidy - free long johns?

And since it was so mild yesterday, I shouldn't have been surprised to find that there were lots of other people on the town ready to check out the art-house movie we had planned to see that evening. It sold out without our help. Returning home, we swung by the not-art-house cinema and arrived just in time to catch There Will Be Blood. I am not sure what to make of this one (cue Film Critic!). It's a great movie, etc. but the main thing sticking out in my mind is this: if there was ever a film made where the only role for a man was as either a) incidental crowd member or b) husband with virtually no lines who appears in a scene for the sole reason of further revealing the characters of the women, it would not be nominated for awards. People would pick up on the fact that there were no men in it, talk about this only, then quickly shelve it as a 'chick flick' and nobody would know if it was any good or not, except maybe Mom.

Is it the movie or the watching experience?

2008-01-23T14:38:00.000-06:00

Heath Ledger... dead? I was surprised by how much this shocked me.

I recall watching 10 Things I Hate About You with Lolabola and her B the night we were getting our stuff ready to sell at the Crap on Tables Festival, as Apple-to-Pear likes to call it. We sold a few bits of jewellery and an oil lamp or two, and stashed the cash away in an old mints tin. Years went by and then few months ago I discovered this cash and spent it - so I owe you, Lola! In the meantime, the $5 bill had gone through a redesign of sorts, so the lady at the counter gave me the raised eyebrow when I handed her this unfashionable-looking fiver. Don't people sew money into their mattresses anymore?

This is sad news, but at least he had a chance to move away from the teen drama thing... not that I didn't have a good time watching that film. Silly movie + friends + sarcasm = one great evening.

Brokeback Mountain was a better movie. I sure know a lot about film, ha ha.

Pop economics

2008-01-23T06:10:00.001-06:00

The news is full of stories about a receding US economy. I don't know much about these things, but I did know this was coming, and here's how:

In the first semester of my second year I took my favourite course of the program, Urban Development. I hadn't expected to like this class because I wasn't interested in development, but it was really interesting and the instructor was great - really funny, full of personality. He wore a suit and tie to class every day because he worked for a market research company and he had this thinning head of hair so there was nothing unusual-looking about him, but he had this quirkiness that reminded me a little of Joe and Gran. He would be talking about a chart, for example, and if it happened to be round he would say something like, I love this chart because it's shaped like a pizza and pizza is my favourite food. He'd say it in this really excited way. Then he'd smile there for a second, as though imagining eating the chart. He talked an awful lot, but I was always interested in what he had to say (unlike the rest of the class, who all thought he was dull, which just astounded me) because he would get so into whatever it was he was talking about. He was endearingly peculiar.The weirdest thing about him, I thought, was that he drank at least one, if not two, bottles of diet Dr Pepper every single class. I don't think I'd ever seen anyone drink diet Dr Pepper before, let alone repeatedly.

One class, he went off on one of his many tangents and predicted a US recession was right around the corner due to all the lending that was going on for mortgages to people who really couldn't afford them. And lo, a recession is upon us, and whenever I hear something about it, I see a bottle of diet Dr Pepper.

Mmm, delightful

2008-01-22T11:55:00.001-06:00

B and I have slowly been working through the dregs of post-Christmas num-nums and now it's down to a single, rather sizeable box of Turkish delight. I like Turkish delight and all (except for that crappy excuse for it that used to come wrapped in a shiny, dark pink wrapper that matched the colour of the jelly. I think I was in my twenties before I found out that Turkish delight wasn't purple) but it's really not my first choice when I feel like reaching for a snack, do you know what I mean? A square or two a year is sufficient, but lately it's been more like one a day. B dropped out of this a long time ago; Turkish delight has fallen from his list of Stuff He'll Eat When There's Nothing Else Going, so I am on my own here. And even though I have a little bit every day, by some miracle, the supply remains. It won't go down. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's cloning. What is its mission? Is it to destroy my teeth? No, it is to convince me to convince others that Turkish delight is a delightful snack every single day. I'm not convinced. Nor should you be. Do not go buy, or accept a gift of, Turkish delight because it won't go away ever. You will just feel sorry for it and eat it until your teeth rot out of your head.

There are indeed no tits on this radio

2008-01-18T07:13:00.000-06:00

I have been getting up at 5:30 to listen to a radio show as part of my thesis research. It's a three-hour program which I record and play back later, transcribing the relevant parts. The whole process is taking up tonnes of my time, hence the lack of writing. Or running. Or doing anything but attending the odd work meeting where I feel somewhat out of place. I wish I could speak confidently to a room full of men in suits.

This radio thing is a conundrum. B found a recorder for me so I can record the show as it plays online, store it on the computer and then listen to it later, transcribing the relevant bits. Before, I was listening to the show live on a ghetto and taping bits here and there. Meanwhile, I was just doing what you do when you listen to the radio - sewing, dishes, making breakfast - so that was pleasant! But I was missing a lot of relevant stuff. This way, I tape the whole show, but since it's not that reliable a recorder, I have to be near it all the time to make sure it's mostly working. Then, I have to listen to the show all over again, essentially. This is going to take forever. I suppose I could go back to the ghetto and tape the whole thing on cassettes - can you even buy those anymore? Whatever. I'm still at the stage of trying out techniques and it's not critical that I document every last word.

Getting up this early is anti-social, not so much because no one is up at that time but because I want to be in bed by 9pm, which is pretty early. This happened last night. I was doing that incessant yawning thing - I hate that. A clear sign that I need to be asleep, but I'm not. Luckily, we were just at J-Lo's place and since he lives in the same building as us, I just walked upstairs and I was home. Yay!

What?

2008-01-12T10:35:00.000-06:00

Finished Wuthering Heights this week. If you haven't, don't bother. I had some expectations for this book but about three-quarters of the way through I realised that nothing had happened and nothing was going to and so it was just a matter of slogging through the rest of it.

Wuthering Heights is a widely appreciated book but I don't understand why. I feel the same way about The Velvet Underground, Lost in Translation, Family Guy and Neon Bible. I guess a thing's greatness is bound to slip through some people's abilities to appreciate it otherwise we'd be overwhelmed by all the great things out there to appreciate. (Read: I can't be bothered.)

So now, I'm finally reading the last Harry Potter. My favourite things about these books are the names of the places and the characters. Little Whinging. Cornelius Fudge. Wilkie Twycross.

:)

Not exactly profound literature, but I get the appeal here. Dad says he doesn't. I wonder if he liked Wuthering Heights?

Andy Warhol wanted 'figment' to be written on his tombstone

2008-01-10T21:45:00.001-06:00

...or nothing at all. So said the quotation on the wall at an exhibit I went to on Saturday. Quotes are overrated. I'll bet half the time the person is just spewing some offhand spew. Like that stupid "Let them eat cake" which she didn't even say. I guess I like the notion of a quotation as a tiny glimpse into a profound idea but when it's used as some marketable sound bite meant to make the deceased sound all mysterious, it's annoying.

I went to this Warhol exhibit on Saturday, the last day before it moved on to that place that rhymes with vagina (I wish I made that one up but I didn't. It's from a list of the top 5 or however many ways that One Great City! is better than that other place, and the number one reason is that this city's name doesn't rhyme with vagina, but really I think that's a point against us). It was lots of fun; full of portraits I had no idea he'd done. At one point, I thought I was looking at Rod Stewart but then I realised no, it's Barry Manilow. And still no. Turns out it was Wayne Gretzky! That Andy Warhol drew Wayne Gretzky's picture was news to me (as was The Great One's resemblance to Barry Manilow), and this picture was, I'm certain, the actual precursor to all '80s record covers: horrible. The Karen Kain one was even worse.

Not that it sucked. I like Andy Warhol, and it was just an enjoyable day. The gallery was packed and the people-watching was as good as the wall-watching. My favourites were his ballpoint pen sketches from early days and the girl in skinny turquoise jeans - she was from the people-watching part, though she would not have been out of place in that Gretzky print.

At the end of the exhibit there was a little station set up where you could draw your own portrait. I can't draw. I mean, I never try. So I drew me in green pencil. I would maybe have put that up here but I posted it on the wall there.

There were other things going on at the gallery, in particular the Frank Warren Post Secret thing which apparently the whole world knows about but me, so I guess I don't need to go on about it but maybe I will because I thought about it a lot. I think I read every single postcard there. Some stand out, like, I overdress at meetings to compensate for the fact that I have no idea what's going on... no fucking idea. And, I have many close friends and confidantes but I am so lonely. And, I have been in love with my sister-in-law for 40 years. And, it shouldn't be a crime to kill your mother-in-law. And, I'm a 37 year-old single nurse in the maternity ward and I check the ages of the mothers to see if I still have a chance. And, best of all, my friend's band sucks!

Reading these made me feel sad and whatever the opposite of lonely is at the same time (and I'm still laughing about the last one). I guess they are nothing more or less than quotes. Well, nothing less. People thought about these. They are more than snippets of cool-sounding drivel. I hope.

New day

2008-01-02T14:32:00.000-06:00

Now that Christmas and all ensuing nonsense has come to an end, I have a list a mile long of Stuff to Accomplish. But why do any of that when I can be here?

I like a new year. Take the time to reflect on the past and be conscious of the year ahead, and you really get something out of it, don't you think? For years, I've made a note of the highlights of the year in a little leather-bound notebook Denise gave to me. Spanglish has a post in the same vein that looks like fun; two responses from each category, so here goes:

Learned:
How to think like a lawyer
The limitless possibilities of the mind (that looks so dumb written down, but I can't think of any other way to phrase it)

Met:
El Hash's little boy. Love at first sight.
Apple-to-Pear's little boy. Joy in a onesie. Or is that a romper? A sleeper??

Don't want to take into 2008:
A tendency to micromanage
A small preoccupation with the seven signs of ageing

Want to hold close into 2008:
The people I love
A sense of humour

Looking forward to in 2008:
Curling lessons with B and our camping pals
Graduating

Life-changing in 2007:
A letter that expressed friendship so nicely
This blog

Hope to accomplish by the end of 2008:
To be more accepting of others
To be more accepting of myself

I had a nice Christmas. Did you? I went home to Cow Pie and stayed with the parents, whose house is one of my favourite places to be. It reminds me of high school, which I remember disliking intensely at the time, but oddly have only very fond feelings about now. Whenever I go home, I wander around the neighbourhood through the back pathways, the parks, to the 7-Eleven, past my old bakery job and the spot which used to be a library in a portable but is now a permanent church. None of these places holds any memory of how isolated I used to feel; at least, it's not isolation in a fearful sense but more in a free and anticipatory way. Maybe that's what it was all along. I think about all the things that made me so purely happy, like running and best friend and Duke Ellington songs and the moon, all of which still make me intensely happy.

Happy new year to you - again!

Stupid city I love

2008-01-01T08:45:00.000-06:00

Today is B's birthday. Whenever he tells anyone this, they always say, new year baby! To which he always replies, I'm not a baby. I find it all very funny.

I wanted to make him an ascot as a birthday gift. I bought the pattern a couple of weeks ago in a fabric shop down by the university when I was in the area. I should have bought material there and then but I didn't really like any of it, so I put that off until yesterday, when I was right downtown, which has a small fabric store amidst all the wedding dress shops. Sorry, had a small fabric store; I found out the shop is in the process of moving to another part of town, in step with the art supply store, the army surplus store, and soon, the book store and central post office. One Great City!? One Great Doughnut! is more like it. Our downtown is becoming more parking lot than destination, and the most depressing part is knowing how vibrant it used to be. The photos of downtown in the past, with its hordes of strikers, shoppers and workers, tall buildings and streetcars, are everywhere, but you can't even walk across the city's most famous intersection anymore; you have to go underground because above ground is for cars. Are subterranean pedestrians meant to make a city great? Not that it matters since there's nowhere to walk to but a bunch of parking lots.

Since this birthday-wishes post to my partner has morphed into a rant about the city, I might as well go with it. This song captures the spirit of this city like nothing else - there is no need for me to go on.

So, back to the ascot... instead, I am going to give B the pattern of the ascot and the promise that the real thing will be around his neck once I've had a chance to go by way of the university again. And maybe we'll take a walk around downtown today. It's new year's day. There won't be anyone there.

Happy birthday, B! And happy new year.

Submersion

2007-12-20T10:56:00.001-06:00

A few days ago there were a couple of City guys on the river clearing the snow for a skating rink, but one of their ATV-type vehicles had become partially submerged. It had been so sub-zero for so long that I was surprised there'd be any soft bits left on the ice, but maybe that was near a sewer - you know, all that steamy shit, ha ha, spewing into the river! (OK, we're not that bad here.) I watched them as they tried to drag it out. They wrapped one end of a rope around the ATV and tied the other to a snow plough up on the bank. One guy remained on the ATV and the other ran up to the plough and put it in reverse. The ATV budged slightly, but not quite. My shoulders tensed. This went on for a while. I was running (on the spot at this point) and didn't hang around to see how it all unfolded because I was starting to get cold and besides, I felt like an ass for not helping - but really, what could I do? The whole thing reminded me of that bit in In the Skin of a Lion where a father and son in the Ontario wilderness use a couple of horses to haul a cow out of the ice, which was one of my favourite parts of that book. The cow is so nonchalant about it all - much like the ATV was, I'm sure!

This morning, I went back to the scene and I saw something black sticking out of the ice but I couldn't tell if it was part of the ATV or not. Would they leave it in there and just wait for the spring thaw? It was probably just a shopping cart or a newspaper box or some such item that I saw.

The reminder

2007-12-15T11:09:00.000-06:00

The other night, I dragged B to a meeting on the state of cycling in One Great City!'s downtown and ways to improve the situation. If you have ever ridden a bike here, you will know that the smallest change in policy or infrastructure would symbolise a big bear hug of acceptance in this otherwise hostile environment. We sat around a table with two huge maps and discussed away. As meetings go, it was a gooder.

There was a man there who reminded me of someone. It took me a few minutes to figure out who that was. This happens a lot. When it doesn't come to me right away, I try to focus on what part of the person it is exactly that is doing the reminding. With this man, who really looked nothing like anyone I knew, it was his mouth and the way he talked - he had a sweet voice and a small bit of a lisp and his nose turned up just a little. Once I had that I figured it out right away: it was an old friend who had died earlier this year. We were close in high school, but we drifted apart after that. It was so nice to be reminded of him.

Incidentally, he loved to ride his bike and the last time I saw him, which was about two and-a-half years ago, we went for a bike ride together.

Cool cat

2007-12-12T14:13:00.000-06:00

Just heard an interview with a jazz artist named Robert Glasper. He says 'cats' all the time. He also says that he doesn't like to tell people about his influences because people will listen for that, instead of just listening expecting nothing and finding the influences themselves.

Behold!

2007-12-11T18:39:00.000-06:00

I really wish I had a camera. There's something I want to show you. Instead, I force you to rely on my oh-so-sharp descriptions to create your own picture in the best camera of all, the mind's eye.

It's our Christmas tree. For some reason, after years of opposing it, B decided that this year we should get one. He thinks that chopping down a living organism, chucking it in a bucket of water and hanging things on it for two weeks before it dries up and turns into a fire hazard in the name of tradition is bizarre - imagine!

I had become used to not having a tree, but I didn't argue with his change of heart, so on Friday, we walked to our nearest tree dealership and brought one home, put it in the bathtub to thaw and went to the pub, where I ate a steak and kidney pie (which wasn't very good).

Sunday, we began the decorating, or as some say, 'trimming' - but I've never been into that word. We had a few decorations knocking around which we supplemented by some hand-made ones. The first one I made was a kind of tribute to Martha Stewart Does Christmas, a small styrofoam ball covered in stuff. Around the centre, a band of red 'velvet' (svelvet?), lined above and below in a dance of alternating shells and whole cloves, with a crown and base of dried petals (I think they're roses, but they've kind of faded so I can't tell). I really want to give this to someone I only kind of know and say nothing and see what happens. B made popcorn and cranberry garlands. It looks like the ratio is 8:1 popcorn to cranberry, which is good because cranberries are not cheap. There is a yellow star, an angel relying too heavily on cotton balls, a fan, a frame housing a sticker with a Toulouse Lautrec painting on it, a candy - or something? - but my favourite is B's coloured paperclip sled. He is the duck's nuts for making this thing. OK, I just wanted to write 'duck's nuts', but it is a good-looking sled. He disagrees and has hidden it towards the back.

I love this tree! But the whole concept of decorating a tree really is ridiculous. It is a little bit like dancing in a packed night club. I imagine aliens landing and observing what we humans do and thinking... huh? It must look so absurd from outside.

I heart Sagittarius

2007-12-08T10:02:00.001-06:00

There are lots of birthdays in my life in December. Today, for instance, is the birthday of the fabulous Mr. Bedell, smiley, witty and quality material at a stuffy party full of people you don't know and don't care to. I know today is his birthday because we are friends on facebook. (Fucking facebook - but useful!) The 6th was B's brother's, the World's Biggest Simpsons Fan. I want to sick his not-pompous expertise on another, whose high-and-mighty attitude indicates unsubtly that she believes she is the holder of that title, over a game board match. He would slaughter her. The 17th is a lady's with whom I share the same place of birth and last name, the only person I know who farts freely and doesn't apologise, because it's natural. I admire her lack of concern with norms. The following day is the birthday of two people: a hoob with a twinkle in his eye and a superhot air traffic controller. And Monday will be that of the lovely Apple to my Pear, a great letter-writer and one of the funniest people I've ever met. She makes me happy just standing beside me.

I like December.

Runner up

2007-12-06T20:53:00.000-06:00

Have you ever won second prize out of two? How did that make you feel?

I walked into a door today. It got caught on my cheesy green styrofoam slipper and bounced back just as I was exiting, face first. The result is a slightly swollen right cheekbone. I imagined explaining it to people: "Oh, this? I walked into a door." Right. Were I a duplicitous person, like say Cathy Ames or Tracy Barlow, this kind of false-sounding truth could come in handy. Instead, I mentally run through how I might say it to ensure that when I do, it will in fact sound like the truth and not some cover-up. This is exactly how I feel when I call in to work sick. How can I make the truth sound true? Maybe I just have an inbred guilty conscience. I blame mass.

It doesn't matter anyway because nobody noticed. I had no opportunity to put my truth-telling practising to the test.

I met with my thesis committee tonight. I noticed on the walk there that I wasn't apprehensive at all, but maybe I should have been. It's not that the meeting went badly or that they are unhappy with the proposal, it's that the discussion brought up the same issues I'd struggled with in the process of coming up with this topic, which was part of the reason it took me so long to write the damned thing (well, that and you tube). I thought that I had got past that with a revised version, but as a tiny piece of me had anticipated but not wanted to acknowledge, what I had on the page was more anthropology than planning. It now looks like I'm going to have to do more work than I'd planned, and I'd already planned to do plenty. The word "cumbersome" came up a couple of times. I really don't want to go down that path!

Still, it felt great to have that discussion. Come to think of it, I remember now that I'd wanted it back in March, but I wasn't sure with whom. I guess I have the right committee.

On most nights over the past three weeks or so, this crazy exhaustion has started to seep into my body sometime after dinner, making my muscles ache. I have noticed a correlation between this sensation and running earlier in the day. Oh, the fatigue! I am not trying to say this in a complaining-pants way because I really don't mind feeling exhausted at all - as long as I can go to bed. It's when I can't go to bed, like at an event which required payment and I'm wishing more than anything that I was in bed but I'm not, I'm standing, which is just hell. (In such cases, it seems I've recently taken to sleeping anyway.) I feel this way tonight, but I didn't go running today. What did I do, walk? I did have an out-of-character glass of whiskey, which normally I hate because the smell of it reminds me of getting my ears cleaned as a child, but is quite nice hot with lemon, cloves and a spoonful of sugar. It's the booze. It has knocked me out.

Today feels like a Second out of Two day.

December

2007-12-04T09:19:00.000-06:00

Homage to Banksy.

Happy birthday, Em!

2007-12-02T18:24:00.000-06:00

Four random things:
1) At age five or so, was famous in our neighbourhood for being able to swim the whole length of the pool underwater without coming up for air;
2) Can sleep at will;
3) On the phone, often sounds bored but isn't, and;
4) Big Eagles fan. Huge. For that, you must be strangled!

Procrastinate much?

2007-11-30T09:44:00.000-06:00

My parents sent me a little webcam. Every time I talk to them on the phone I tell them that I'm going to go set up that webcam. Yesterday, I was stretching my stiff limbs after a wintry run when I noticed COBWEBS on the box housing said webcam.

B laughed when I showed this to him and has volunteered for the role of Webcam Set-Upper. I hope he gets on it before it goes mouldy.

Ah

2007-11-27T14:23:00.000-06:00

Jian Gomeshi says "Pokiston". And not like "pahk"; "pock". I've heard Saskatchewohn and Eye-raq and, Lolabola's favourite, Eye-talian, but Pokiston is a new one to me. Is he Pakistani? Because maybe he's just saying it properly. Like when you hear someone say "brusketta". But he was just interviewing someone from Pakistan and it didn't sound to me like that person was saying Pokiston. Hmm.

Untitled

2007-11-22T18:34:00.000-06:00

At 5am I woke up, got up and flipped through some sewing books I had bought on-line on one of those waves of book-gathering - do you have those? They happen to me at the library, too. I get all excited about a particular topic and pile the books on, convinced that this time, I will read/use them ALL, because suddenly I am a very fast reader who is focused and makes very good use of her time. Yogourt containers I use; time I waste. Anyway, since Christmas is coming and I do have the odd gap in my otherwise strenuous schedule of two hours of work per week, I have been thinking about getting on top of making some gifts, and this year, I will be starting before Dec. 23rd - wa-hoo!

The first book was a baby book, which I bought because a few of my close friends have had kids recently. I have yet to make anything out of this book because I think most of it is silly (come on, decorative hangers? I can see Mom's eyes roll) and the few things that stand out require practice, and plenty of it. Stitching in a boldly contrasting colour only looks good if you have a very steady stitching hand. I will no longer be fooled by the hope with which those beautiful, professionally-taken photographs fill me. What I make will not look like that. After the twentieth try, though...

The other book is a basic how-to-sew-for-your-own-body book. I am all over the idea of making my own pants for the rest of my life. Trying on pants is a disheartening activity. This book I had yet to even open, but it looks good, especially for its spacial organisation tips - I love those. So I went on a re-organisation rampage for the day, and the result is not all that different from how things were set up before, which is sort of disappointing considering how much time I put into it, but like I said, I'm not so good there.

I have crammed my 'Thesis Station' (how do you like that?) from my little desk onto the end of B's desk, so I am now facing east instead of north. (This might make me smarter.) I took said little desk and transformed it into a full-time sewing table by a) taking the stuff off it, and b) moving it into another room. I know. Ingenious. One of the tips from the book was to put a big piece of paper-covered plywood onto a smallish table for cutting material. I will be able to do that now! (The floor is another option, but not with cats.) So, with both the time and the space to practice, I am set. I can hear the professional photographers knocking already...

Tutti fruitti

2007-11-21T14:17:00.001-06:00

Fruit is something I usually have to consciously commit to eat. Unlike, for example, a cookie. This is because it is nearly always bad, and that is because I live in Canada and not Orange County. Fruit here is most reliably tasty in liquid or leather form. Failing those, it can be jazzed up. Just a few minutes ago, I chopped a pear up into little pieces and plopped a few spoons of very delicious 8% mf yogourt on top. The pear was more cracker than pear it was so dry, but in disguise like that, eating it was effortless.

When I lived in Korea, it was different. Persimmons were in season at this time of year and some days, I'd eat five. In the spring, it was strawberries, and in the summer, watermelons. Some days were so hot I'd eat exclusively watermelon. Korean fruit is really nice. Canadian fruit can be too, but the window is smaller.

By the way, did you know that watermelon is THE most nutritious fruit? I heard this announced by a radio show host on the CBC (I forget who). He had always thought of watermelon as the the bubble gum or the candy floss of fruit or something like that, which made a lot more sense to me than the spinach or the broccoli of fruit, which is what it really is.

In Korea, in a bigger city than the one I lived in, there was a bar I went to a few times called Watermelon Sugar, named after the book (which I've never read). It was tiny and busy and loaded with phalluses. My friend John and his friends would take me there when I was visiting. We always had fun. I had completely forgotten about that place only that someone on the radio mentioned the book recently.

Joey

2007-11-19T21:39:00.001-06:00

Hi. I'm Joey. I am in this really great, albeit quite depressing, film (I think that's the film I'm thinking of...). And you thought we were all friends! People in bands aren't friends. They are co-workers. Colleagues. "Work-mates". Do you like your co-workers? Oh. Anyway, I feel a bit stuffy in this sweater, but don't you think it looks smashing on me? Actually, it's not the sweater, which is, in fact, a t-shirt that just looks like a sweater because I am a piece of knitting, it's this post from which my legs dangle that causes me grief. It is practically in my ass. I've been hanging here like this for almost TWO YEARS. At least I have arms.

The latest

2007-11-16T15:23:00.001-06:00

Guess what?

I HAVE JUST FINISHED MY PROPOSAL!

(Only 3.5 weeks after that little deadline, but whatever.)

Wa-hoo. I feel so free. You are the first person I've told. I want to spread some of my joy over to you.

I sit and wonder why y y

2007-11-11T13:13:00.000-06:00

B had been bugging me about seeing Grease for a while, so we watched it last night. He had never seen it before - can you believe it? I really didn't want to see it again, but it was about time I saw something he picked. It was actually pretty fun, except that I kept kind of crying. Some of the details, like Sandy's high ponytail at the drive-in or Danny's face at the very end of Summer Nights, were so vivid in my memory that I felt like I was right back on Sara's couch in grade two, watching it for the eleventh time.

The item below makes me cry, but that's less to do with soppy sentimentality and more a plea to make it stop. I think the song is pretty good - OK, dated, but still good - but the video! When was the last time you saw this piece of crap?

Barf is a really great word

2007-11-09T18:26:00.001-06:00

At 2:00, I had to get out of the house. I printed off my proposal, which I still haven't handed in (!) and went to the Village to read it over a cup of coffee. I thought the change of scenery might shed some light on the stuck parts, which it did. By my second cup of coffee I had only got through the first 13 pages but I was feeling really ill so I left. I'm not sure if it was the coffee or the "barista" and all her half-fat-no-foam-peppermint-ginger-latte-shouting or the guy watching Celine Dion videos on his laptop or what, but I couldn't really stay in there much longer.

I crossed the street to try on a pair of ruby slipper-ish shoes I'd seen in a shop window earlier this week. I needed to get this weird idea that they were great shoes out of my head. As the cafe did to my writing, so my feet did to the shoes, that is, I got a new perspective on them. The old perspective was, as you know, what cute shoes! The new perspective was, these shoes make me look like a tramp in spite of my frumpy outfit, that's how trampy they are. I probably should have bought them there and then but, like most stilettos, I really couldn't walk in them for shit and I hated the heel because it was this light red plastic - is there anything barfier than that?

Maybe this?

Or, Lolabola might think, this?

Urban wildlife whisperer

2007-11-05T13:49:00.000-06:00

I saw the fattest squirrel on Saturday. It had this big ass. I know it was actually fat and didn't just appear fat because I saw another one nearby that wasn't. The skinny one saw me, and kept an eye on me the whole way up a tree. He'd scamper up for a few seconds, then stop and stare me down, then up a little more, then he'd check back. Are you still here? STILL? He was really put out by my presence but his little abrupt movements were so fun to watch that I couldn't help my rudeness. It's November. I think he should get on with puffing up like his friend.

On Sunday, I saw an injured raccoon. It was dark out and I thought at first I was looking at a porcupine, but then I saw the ringed tail. It was crossing the road and limping on three legs. I was running, extremely fast of course, but I slowed down to make sure it got across without being hit by a car. And what was I going to do if a car came along, anyway? Jump in front of it, Protector of Small Mammals that I am? Well, no car came along, and the raccoon hobbled without too much bother through a small patch of wilderness, then across the path, at which point it looked at me. Like the squirrel, this guy seemed a little offended by my being there as well. What are you staring at? You never hurt your leg before? I should have told him the story of how I crunched my own ankle at that very spot six months earlier. He didn't want to talk so he went off into the woods where he was very well camouflaged.

Is it safe to assume that an animal without lipstick or a bow in its hair is a boy?

Happiness is a silent bed

2007-11-04T20:48:00.000-06:00

We have the loudest bedframe in the world, which is funny because it's called The Zen. It's a wooden frame with three particle board panels to hold the mattress. The bed has always been a bit creaky, but somewhere between summer and fall things really got out of hand. The simple act of crawling into bed started a racket not unlike the fireworks that are often set in the lot behind our apartment here. To roll over was to fire a series of gunshots. Sleepless nights ensued. This weekend, we vowed to do something about it. I thought we'd have to get out the oil and tighten the screws or throw the frame out altogether, but all it took in the end was a little panel-flipping and a few pieces of that sticky-back felt and it's as though we have a brand-new bed frame.

I am SO goddamned happy! I can't wait to go to bed. Good-night.

Tagged by Lolabola

2007-11-02T18:56:00.000-05:00

I remember...

... in elementary school not being able to decide if I'd rather be Nancy Drew or one of the characters in Archie comics.

I remember when I first realised that A and I were friends. It was in grade 11. I was over helping him paint his basement with a few others and the two of us went to pick up some pizza in his Little Red Chevette. There was Chinese music on the radio. The music, the little car and our silly banter all made me giddy. I laughed the whole way. I felt like a normal person around him.

I remember my grandmother telling me about her stillbirth. She knew the baby would be stillborn because she had become jaundiced. She said they wrapped the baby in a napkin - that was the word she used. I remember how she looked small, sweet and strong all at the same time when she told me this.

I remember one day going down to the Wells. It was a hot and hazy day in September - not very typical Irish weather. I took Emily Carr's autobiography with me, which Lolabola had given to me. I remember thinking how much Emily Carr reminded me of her, my own best friend.

I remember looking at the world map from my cot at night when I was really small and thinking that North and South America looked like a diving bird and Italy looked like a boot. I haven't heard anything about the bird, but I hear the boot all the time.

I remember walking home for lunch with Mom when I was five and seeing the older girls walking by themselves and not being able to wait until I was old enough to walk by myself. I remember forgetting all about my craving for independence when we got home because we would put on this Mozart record with a dark blue cover and listen to the lovely music.

I remember the first time I went to B's, which was the second time we met. He had invited me over for a guitar lesson as a birthday present the first time we met. I didn't want to go to the lesson at all, but we had made the arrangement, so I went because I never stand people up, especially people I barely know. I walked up to his door, bass in hand. I remember that I felt like an idiot because I had no case. He said, you don't have a case? I had purposely put no effort into looking good because I didn't want him to like me. After the lesson, I wanted him to like me. He held his cat while he waved good-bye. I was sure he thought I was an idiot. Look at her, with no case.

I remember the telephone cake Denise made for Em's 7th or 8th birthday. It was a rotary phone. I don't remember what candies she used to decorate it, but it was the coolest cake ever. Everything Denise does is cool.

I remember stealing change from Mom's purse to buy Tahiti Treat from the vending machine in our townhouse complex in grade one. I think I did this twice.

I remember the only time I ever saw a spider spin a web. It was outside Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin in 1993. I was with Matt and we had just had an argument about Catholicism. The spider was a good tonic.

I remember when my best friend in grade three stole my green eyeliner. My aunt had given it to me for Christmas. When it went missing, I called my friend, in tears, to ask her if she had seen it. She hadn't. Em was convinced she had taken it and so accused her. She denied it. I looked for it in her room one day when she was in the bathroom and found it on her dresser. I grabbed the eyeliner and held it in my hand and put my hand into the pocket of my cream-coloured knit hoodie and kept it there until I got home. My hand got sweaty and my heart pounded the whole way down the hill. We never talked about it, but I knew she knew that I knew she took it, and I knew that she knew I took it back.

... and I can't remember the lyrics to the song that goes "I remember...blah bla dee dee da da dee da... come running ba-ack to meeeee". It's an old reggae song, and I've had it in my head the whole time I've been writing this post, which took a few days.

See it in your mind

2007-10-24T20:59:00.001-05:00

You should have seen the sky - this morning and tonight, both were beautiful. Must be some ash in the air... and yesterday - one brilliant ray of sunshine punched a hole through the blue-grey clouds. Anyone under it probably had a revelation of some kind or another.

And I remain camera-free.

So how about an old photo again?

Quite unrelated.

La la la la la an interesting tree