Sunday, December 26, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Day 16: A picture of someone who inspires you.
This is my favourite cousin. She is one of the strongest people I know.
She travels to far-off places alone--and not ones that are familiar to us as Canadians like England and France, but places like Nepal and Isreal.
She is going through a really tough time in her life right now, but still she remains positive and optimistic. Taking on one challenge at a time instead of letting it all push down on her at once.
She runs businesses, she makes time for friends, she stays fit, she's never lazy. She makes me want to be a more energetic and take advantage of everything life has to offer. She's very inspiring.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
There are many people I could never imagine my life without: my kids, my parents, my bff.... But that's not who I'm going to write about.
A few years ago, Twin A begged me to let him play football. I was very hesitant, but finally gave in. I had no idea that him playing football would be such a positive experience for all of us. At the time, I was very unhappy. It was a time of my life that I felt very alone. I was considering joining some sort of religion just so I had a group of people to call my own. Enter the Church of Football. The football schedule is all encompasing; it takes up most of the week. So we spent a lot of time together. It's where I met Malison (and through Malison I met her boyfriend and Cake Mix), and it's where I met two other families that I consider really good friends. I know that these people will be around for the rest of my life.
I can never express to any of these people how thankful I am to have them around. I know they are there whenever I need them (even when football season is over). They are an awesome support system and I not only can't, but don't want to, imagine my life without them.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
I hate cliches.
I hate being thought of as a cliche. I cannot be put in a box and labeled.
Most especially, I hate the answers that come when you ask people what their pet peeves are:
"I hate intolerant people." What does that even mean? Everyone is intolerant of something. Granted, I'm not that fond of anything that deliberately physically or mentally hurts someone because of their race, religion, or sexual orientation, but I have to say that I'm very intolerant of whiners. (Quit faking, ya big baby.) Does that make me an intolerant person that other people should hate?
"I hate how Christmas has been so commercialized." Really? You hate when someone thinks so highly of you that they lose sleep trying to think of the perfect present for you? You hate how everyone joins together as one big community and sings and smiles and tells perfect strangers to have a merry Christmas? You hate how excited your children are when they tell you what the shopping store Santa said to them?
"I hate [insert driving behaviour here]." I read somewhere that anyone who drives slower than you is an idiot and anyone who drives faster than you is a moron. The funny thing is, we've all been the driver that has made a mistake. When I cut you off, it's because I didn't see you, not because I'm deliberately trying to ruin your entire day.
But the biggest thing I hate today? The fact that I'm responsible for putting the lights on the Christmas tree. I hate putting the lights on; I always scratch up my hands and I always end up with either extra tree or extra lights at the end.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Have you ever seen a snowman sitting in a chair, watching the basketball game at a busy lounge on a Friday night? We put him there.
Have you jumped in a cab after a night out to find that a wise man from a ceramic nativity scene is in the inside pocket of your jacket? We put him there.
Have you ever spotted a plastic soldier, cowboy, Indian, or exotic animal in a flower pot in a hotel lobby? Chances are we put him there.
We've spent entire nights ending every sentence with "and stuff." We've bought an entire cake just to eat the icing. We've conducted many social experiments to see what people will do when they find a snowman or wise man or plastic toy in an odd place. I mail her birthday cards in the wrong month; we buy each other magnets from wherever we go because someone once didn't buy her a magnet because it cost too much; we think we're hilarious.
I promise day 11 will not be about my bff. Stay tuned...and stuff.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Just after high school, I had a boyfriend. We had a very...passionate relationship. We either loved each other intensely or hated each other intensely. We broke up a lot. My bff was always there, not as the kind of friend who says "there, there. It'll be ok" but more of the kind of friend who says silly things that make me laugh.
Then I got married and had kids. And throughout my kids' lives she has been there with all sorts of teacherly advice. "Make sure your kids play team sports. We can tell which kids are in team sports" and "don't ever buy cups, Christmas ornaments, anything with an apple on it for teacher gifts. We only like gift certificates. For Chapters and Starbucks. That's it. Don't think outside the box."
And I got divorced. And I had a new boyfriend. And we broke up. And I've had medical problems. And throughout it all she's been there. Again, not with any sort of sympathetic coddling, but it doesn't matter what's happening in my life, if I'm not laughing my ass off by the time our conversation ends then she hasn't done her job.
Thanks bff. If you were here, I'd hug you. Just kidding; that'd be really awkward.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The truth is: nobody's life is perfect. So while there are aspects of just about anybody's life that I find appealing, there are other aspects that I don't.
Some of you have a perfect marriage. And I want that. But I don't want to trade places with you because your husband is not who I want.
Some of you have an unlimited source of money and presents and vacations. And I want that. But I don't want to trade places with you because I don't want to have to deal with what you have to deal with to enjoy it.
Some of you have the perfect job. And I want that. But I want the job that's perfect for me, not the one that you have.
So basically, I want what you have. I want the fame and fortune and success and happiness, but I want my own, not yours.
Who would I trade places with for a day? Nobody. I'll get there on my own.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
One of my pet peeves is people who condescendingly (and it *always* sounds condescending) say, "I don't have a TV." Like they are somehow better than you because you choose to spend your evenings watching your "programs" while they undoubtedly volunteer for some under-funded charity that simultaneously saves children and animals, while also training for an ironman triatholon and spending quality time teaching their children to understand finances and the small print on contracts. Judgemental bastards. (But not you dear reader; I totally don't mean you.)
I, however, spend my evenings watching TV. I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Every evening, after the children are in bed, I sit on my couch, knit, and watch TV. My kids watch TV too. And play video games. And often eat junk food. Yep, I'm that mom.
My favourite shows (in list form) are (in no order whatsoever):
3. Grey's Anatomy
4. The Office
5. The Biggest Loser
Those are the ones I try never to miss. There are more that I really, really like. And listing them would make this post even longer, but, ironically, I'm in the middle of a really good book and I need to go finish it now.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Instructions for Day 2: Photo of myself and the person I have been closest with the longest.
There are many people I've been close with for a very long time, but this guy has been there for the longest.
In the toy store, he presses every single button on every single toy and then giggles like a little kid.
He bakes all the muffins and shortbread cookies. He makes more cookies for Christmas than they would ever need at their Open House. This is to account for the ones that will inexplicably disappear out of the freezer beforehand.
He rarely read me stories. Instead he made up cool adventures about a kid named Bartholomew Snuffenhouser.
When we go for a run, he always tucks in his shirt and pulls up his socks. Then waits for me to say, “You are not leaving the house looking like that.” Then he giggles like a little kid.
He always made sure to tuck me in whenever he came home from work—whether it was 10 at night or 4 in the morning.
He only answers the phone if Mom’s not home, no matter where she is in the house or what she’s doing.
When I’m sad or frustrated, he’s the only person in the world that can make me cry just by looking at me.
When I told him I was pregnant, he looked confused, and said “but I’m not old enough to be a grandpa.” He seems fine with it now.
I got a brand new manual typewriter for my 10th birthday. Him and I had daily correspondence for the longest time on a roll of toilet paper. (It was endless and cheaper than paper—he is, after all, Scottish.)
All my friends are jealous of the relationship I have with him. He’s my running partner; he’s there whenever we need him; he’s someone who believes in me no matter what I’m trying to accomplish.
Believe me: I know how lucky I am.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Day 1 appears to be 15 random facts (and we all know how much I love lists...and random facts) and a picture of myself.
1. This picture was taken at my brother's wedding. I was dancing with him. Despite my hurt feelings of late, he's my brother and I love him. He's a wonderful person and I know that he is there when I need him and that one day we will be close again.
2. I purposely picked a picture that was dark and hard to see.
3. I like how my arm looks in this picture. It looks tanned and toned.
4. I had a job interview in June. I drove back from a function in Calgary, hadn't been home yet, and was not feeling my finest when I met with the interviewer. It didn't go well. Actually, it was really awkward. Today, six months later, I emailed the interviewer and asked for another chance. I hope it works out; I'd be perfect for this job.
5. When I go to a bookstore, I cannot leave there with only one book.
6. Same with any store that sells yarn (except with balls of yarn, not books. Obviously).
8. I love getting mail. I have two friends that are very good about sending me mail through Canada Post. Thanks girls.
9. I'm really proud of my kids. They are only beginners at being teenagers, and I may look back on this sentence some day and sadly shake my head, but for now they are really awesome.10. I went out with my former coworkers for lunch. I miss those people. They can be counted on 100 per cent of the time to get my sense of humour.
11. I love Disney animated movies. I didn't like Lilo and Stitch at all though. Not even a little.
12. My favourite number is 12.
13. I have a problem with starting projects but not finishing them. I have a lot of mostly done sweaters, mittens, purses, scrapbooks, cross-stitches, writing projects, and various miscellanious projects having to do with my damned living room. I need to dedicate time to unfinished projects; perhaps I'll start a club.
14. As much as I love to read, I've only been involved with one book club. It was a club dedicated to reading books from our childhoods. We read Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret. It was a fun club, but it ended because most of the other participants are teachers and summer ended so they all went back to school and had better things to do.
15. I don't think seeing my name in print will ever get old. Every time I see a new magazine with my byline I squeal a little.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Or, do I do like last year where I deliberate about this forever until it's too late to do either?
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
1. There are so many seasons of so many shows that I want to own. I gave a list to my mom but I doubt I'll get any that I asked for. Here's why: my mom is afraid of her computer. She's certain that the minute she even walks within a foot of it while holding her credit card, her information will get out into the world wide webs and suddenly evil people will start using it for nefarious purposes like buying shoes. So basically, if what I want for Christmas is not at Costco or Mark's Work Wearhouse, I'm not getting it.
2. I may or may not have mentioned my living room (over and over again). I finally got the desk upstairs, but I have yet to make the curtains or the throw pillows. And also, despite the fact that it's on my list of things to buy when I graduate, I have yet to get new living room furniture. There's always something that comes up that's more important: trip to Mexico, trip to San Fransisco, phone bill.
3. I could use some extra energy. I'm not sure if it's the subject of the article I'm working on right now that is making me lazy (because it's amazingly boring) or the fact that I am naturally lazy, but lately I only want to snuggle in my bed and read. And if not on my bed then I'll take the couch and TV.
Thank you for your consideration Santa.
Monday, November 29, 2010
The IT band in my right leg is tight. So tight that I haven't been able to run for the last six months or so. I can run for about 10 minutes before either my knee, hip, or both start hurting. It's very frustrating. So I've started seeing a physiotherapist. And that was helping and it looked like I was going to be able to start running again soon, but I've stopped doing the exercises, I really can't afford to go to physiotherapy too often, and now it's possible I'll never run again. OK, that might be a little too dramatic, but my motivation is low.
Hmmm...I'm pretty rambly today. If ya'all have any motivation ideas, I'd be happy to listen to 'em...
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Anyway, I had ways to entertain myself so I wouldn't get bored. First I'd knock on the wall between my room and my brother's and ask him what he wanted to talk about. He wasn't very reliable though; he'd either say "Nothing. Go to sleep" or he'd start chatting with me then fall asleep in the middle of a sentence...usually my sentence. Rude!
So when that failed, I'd sing. Every song I could think of. Usually from the soundtrack of Annie. I really loved that movie. After exhausting the entire repertoire of Annie songs, I'd start in with anything I could think of by Helen Reddy or Barbra Streisand (what? My mom was a fan. Geez).
After wearing myself out singing, I'd start making up stories. Then when that didn't work, I'd try the doctor's suggestion of putting every part of my body to sleep. (Goodnight big toe, goodnight ball of my right foot, goodnight Achilles tendon, etc.) Eventually that would get boring and I'd go back to singing.
I read now. And fall asleep a lot more easily. Too bad; I miss singing.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
1. The sunshine on my bed--at some point during the day, depending on the season, the sun sleeps directly on my bed. It's warm and bright and happy.
2. My dad's new-found car-attitude--in 1983, my dad bought a brand new Volvo. It was his baby and if you even looked at it wrong, you got in trouble. He owned this car for 20 years. Neither my brother and I ever drove it (until brother bought it off dad, but even then the pressure was too high to keep it in tip-top condition and so it was sold again a couple of months later). Anyway, my dad retired from his career and needed to purchase a work vehicle for his new job (don't even get me started on what has happened to this vehicle--gah). All that history to say that recently he got a brand new truck. It's red; it's huge; that's all I know about it. The other day when my mom and dad came to pick up their dog from my house I was out. I came home when they were here and my dad's brand new truck was in my driveway, but running, so I moved it. And when I got out of the huge red truck, I misjudged how huge the truck really is and fell out while simultaneously pushing the door into the side of my stucco house. It removed the paint from part of the edge of the door. It crossed my mind that I should probably flee the country, but instead I went inside to see if I would still be considered "daughter." You guys, he totally waved it off like it was nothing.
3. Yoga pants--I'm not gonna lie. I rarely wear anything else anymore. I feel like maybe I'm becoming a candidate for What Not To Wear (this in addition to Hoarders; is it possible I watch too much TLC). They're just so comfy and warm and comfy.
4. My country--it's politically stable and there are no poisonous bugs.
5. My house--besides keeping me warm and dry, I have the kind of house that my friends can walk into and totally ignore me while going about doing their own things. As I write this I have a friend sitting at my kitchen table filling out a job application. People feel welcome here, my friends, my kid's friends. It's nice that people can come here, because honestly, I sure don't want to go out there.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
There once was a time when I dutifully cleaned and did laundry on a schedule. The bathrooms were cleaned every Tuesday, the laundry was washed, dried, folded and put away every Saturday, the kitchen was cleaned every single day. This morning, as I rushed out of my bed to take the children to school, I noticed that I had two baskets of laundry sitting on my floor. UNFOLDED and NOT PUT AWAY. How did this happen? Stay tuned on the TLC channel; I could be on Hoarders any day now.
Monday, November 22, 2010
1. My parent's dog. She is a bad houseguest. I ask her to please sleep at the bottom of the bed on the other side (it's a king-sized bed; there's plenty of room), but she insists on sleeping right by me. Also, she is far to small to be outside in this weather. That means that she is supposed to go to the bathroom on these pads. She insists on missing, sometimes by about 15 feet. And then she barks and barks and barks every time I come back into the house and it's so high-pitched that I think my ears are going to fall off. Don't get me wrong, she's cute and she's a nice dog, but I just would like if she were a better guest in my house. I also think I might be allergic to her, and having her sleep so closely to me is not helping.
2. My driveway. It's not going to shovel itself, but it seems that other members of my household have noticed that if they wait long enough that it will. Ten minutes here and ten minutes there would have it done in no time, but they dawdle so much that all of a sudden it's time to go to school or dinnertime or bedtime. I often think they work way harder at dawdling, putting huge amounts of time and effort in, that it would take less work just to go shovel.
3. Censorship. I censor myself when writing so as not to hurt anyone's feelings or give too much of myself away. Everywhere I write I'm so careful: I'd write a book but what if a character swears or has sex and my dad reads it. I'd blog about more stuff but what if [insert one of the very few reader's names here] thinks I'm talking about her. (Not you though. Promise.) And private information? Feggedaboudit. What I share is so watered down that sometimes I don't even bother...hence the months of silence on this blog. And honestly, how interesting is it to read about nothing, because that's really all I have left once I'm done with the censorship.
Wow. I'm in a mood. I should stop before I get myself in trouble. Have a lovely day friends.
Friday, November 19, 2010
I haven't been here for a long time. Maybe you've noticed. At least two of you have because you've both asked why I don't blog anymore. I'm back. I'll try to do better, but honestly, I can't guarantee anything. The thing is , I don't blog when I have so much going on in my life that my brain is just spinning because I don't want to bog you down in my stuff and I don't blog when I have nothing going on in my life because I have nothing to say.
Today I'm trying for five random things because sometimes that's just fun.
1. I shovelled the driveway two days in a row. I have a long-ass driveway and it takes a long time and I don't even finish it because I want to leave some for the other members of my household. I don't want them to get used to me doing it. It kind of bothers me that my neighbours drive on my driveway because they pack down the snow, but it doesn't bother me enough to say anything. I like my neighbours; if they find it easier to drive on my driveway then I'll just live with it. Later on this year it won't matter anyway because I'll have given up the goal to always be able to see the cement. Shovelling is a novelty that wears off pretty quick. I came inside when I was done and my hair was everywhere and my glasses were fogged up and the zipper pull broke off my jacket. I'm not sure the last time I felt that panicked. I COULD NOT get out of my jacket. I was trapped there forever with hair in my face and I couldn't even see. It was horrible. I felt my breath quicken as I tried and tried to figure out a way to pull down the zipper WITHOUT THE PULL twisting this way and that like an acrobat contortionist. Finally I pulled the jacket off like a t-shirt. It was scary people; you don't know fear until you're trapped in a winter jacket with foggy glasses and messy hair.
2. I went to visit my bff last weekend. Honey was away so it was just the two of us. I missed him; I like them together, but it was really nice to have girl-time. I'd love to say we spent the day shopping then visited the spa in preparation for our night out, but in all honesty, we went to one store, then picked up food, went back to her place, put on our sweatpants and we were in bed by 1030. Sadly, it was perfect. I don't want to read too much into it, but it's possible that I'm getting... old.
3. My plans fell through today. I thought about all the stuff that needs to be done: the cleaning, the writing assignments, random chores and errands (on a side note, I've never been able to say that word--I know it's ERrands, but it always comes out of my mouth as erRANDS). But then I remembered what the Universe wrote yesterday: What if it was your downtime, your lounging-in-bed-too-long time, your walkabout time, and your blow-Friday-off time that made possible your greatest achievements? So today, I'm going to have a nap, I might go for lunch, I will definitely have a long, hot shower and I will blow-Friday-off.
4. I might just start now.
5. Because five random things right off the get-go might be a little over ambitious.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
It was heaven.
As of last Friday, that break from my real life has ended. There was drama. It was like a reality show: backstabbing, conniving, people being sent home, a new Head of Household. And I couldn't stay. I'm not sure there was anyone there who actually wanted me to (especially since I never impressed them with any of my skills), but I didn't give them the opportunity to vote me off; I just left.
And now I'm back where I started from. Only this time there is not cushy job to fall back on. This time I actually have to try. I can't just wait for opportunities to fall in my lap; I actually have to go out and find them. And it's scary.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Otherwise: I'm a certified Nutrition and Wellness Specialist as of yesterday. I may have an opportunity to focus more on my writing career soon. It's not all bad. Change is scary though. And exciting.
Friday, August 13, 2010
2. I think I might have figured out why I'm so tired all the time. Why running is such a strain. I visited my fantastic new doctor yesterday. He poked and prodded at me for a while, then decided that it's quite possible that I've been running on a broken foot for the last six weeks. Perhaps my exhaustion stems from my body's need to heal while I continue to pound the broken part into the ground over and over and over again.
3. My kids tell people I'm a receptionist. "Because it sounds better." GAH! Like I didn't *just* go to school for four years to get a degree. Like I don't have letters behind my name.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Do I need some sort of vitamin supplement? Is it allergies? Am I depressed (besides the tired thing I have no other symptoms of anything)? Don't know. Don't know anything and I'm too lazy to make the appointment to find out.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Green star - the green star symbolizes my nutrition goals. I find that I don't eat enough fruit and vegetables. Canada's food guide recommends 7 to 8 servings per day. Who wants to waste all their calories on fruit and vegetables? So I'm trying to eat both fruit and vegetables every single day. I only average about 4 servings per day. That's ok; I don't seem to be dying of scurvy or anything yet.
Red star - the red star is my exercise goal. I aim to get at least a half hour every day. This is the one that I don't get the most of. I have a lot of excuses, none of them good, for why I skip it. Between running three times a week with my dad and the new exercise regime I plan to make the other football mommies take part in, I will then only need to find time/energy for the weekend days. You know. The days I like to spend reading in my bed.
Gold star - the gold star is my wellness goal. This month I made a list of 31 things that need to be done around my house. Everything from replacing the burnt out lightbulbs in the bathroom vanity and vacuuming my furnace filter to bringing up that damn desk from the basement. The same desk I meant to bring up in February. There's a reason I have to go to the extreme of rewarding myself to do things.
Blue star - the blue star is the water star. All I have to do is drink 2 litres of water a day. This is the one I get 99.9 per cent of the time. Yes, I do pee a lot. Twice while writing this post actually.
Silver star - extra wellness goal because there are five different colours on a sheet of star stickers. Every day I must work on some sort of craft. This one is great for more than just getting crafts completed though. It also keeps me from snacking at night. It's hard to craft and eat at the same time.
In other news, it's my UNniversary today. I would be celebrating my 16th wedding anniversary today if that had worked out. I texted the ex to wish him a happy unniversary, he replied with two lols and an emoticon...no wonder we're divorced.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
I try never to wear bathing suits. And the one I would wear if I absolutely had to is boy-cut. So, it's not that I'm fond of unruly jungles, and I do maintain "that area" well enough, but the need for perfection is not that necessary. Any other time that part of my body is viewed, the person doing the viewing is not really searching for...uh...stray branches.
Regardless, on this vacation I will be wearing a bikini. Prompting the need for more than just a careless swipe with a razor. For the first time in my life, I got a bikini wax. And you know what? OW!
Me: How old are your kids?
Torture Inflictor: They are four and six. *rub, rub, rub, RIP*
Me: OH THOSE ARE NICE AGES. DO THEY GO TO SCHOOL HERE?
TI: My son goes to [local school].
Me: That's a nice school. Well, I don't really know because that's not where my kids went, and I didn't go there either, but I know other people who went there, I mean their kids went there and they seem to like it. Well, they liked it, their kids don't go there anymore...
...BUT THEY USED TO GO THERE AND WHEN THEY WENT THERE, THEY LIKED IT.
TI: *eyes dart around making sure there's an escape route*
Apparently, when I'm in a shitload of pain I can still have a normal conversation. A totally coherent and not at all crazy conversation. As you can see I maintained a steady voice throughout and didn't babble unintelligibly. I'm very proud.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Good writers have a voice. A voice that comes through in their writing. My voice is not coming through at all. This sucks.
And it's time for a change. Starting now.
So, without further ado, here are some random thoughts:
1. The other day I asked [Twin B] what he wanted to be when he grew up. He answered that he didn't know. So I asked the question in a different way: If you had to decide what you were going to be right now, what would you choose? His answer: Well, I guess I'd be a janitor because I don't really have the education to be anything else. My kid is brilliant.
2. So Jesus "died" and then we found out that he wasn't really dead, but we don't celebrate the second time that he died. I hear Jesus was kind of a big deal, so if we get a week off for his birth and four days off for his death/resurrection, then I think his second death deserves at least a long weekend.
3. I think I would be good at writing sit-coms for TV. I write them in my head almost constantly.
4. I hate my rear view mirror. It's the one that shows all the flaws. I often find myself driving down the street pulling out grey hairs rather then watching the road. It's also the one that points out which stray eyebrows need to be plucked. Yesterday it found a wrinkle. It was near my mouth. I've spent a lot of time since then pulling my cheeks back to see what I'd look like if I didn't have a wrinkle. But at least my eyebrows are good.
5. My friend is bringing over her baby this afternoon. He's pretty new. I haven't held a baby in a very long time. But the best part is that I get to stop at Chapters after work. I can't decide if I should get Sandra Boynton, Dr. Seuss, or Eric Carle. What a wonderful decision to have to make.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
**Side note** I was actually asked what colour I would be if I were a colour in a job interview once. Stupid question, I thought. I answered that I would be skin colour. Duh. I got the job anyway.
Obviously, I am far too logical to find this kind of metaphor appealing in my own writing. It's just so...so lame. Anyway, this is what I came up with. And surprisingly, it's still one of my favourite pieces of writing to this day.
I am not abstract art,
there is no confusion, no need to tilt your head to one side.
I am not large, obscure words;
do not take out your dictionary or thesaurus.
I am not a violin,
all intricate and needing to be played exactly.
I am a daisy
I am a giggle in church
I am baby-soft skin
I am a fawn
I am not a mango!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
So the fireplace was removed and obviously the wall behind it is a different colour than the rest of the wall necessitating the need to paint. And before I can paint the walls, I needed to paint the ceiling. Which is what I did this last weekend.
Saturday before lunch, I ran to the paint store. I bought paint, a pole to attach to the roller handle, and a tray lining to pour the paint into. The girl there asked me four times if I had everything I needed. I assured her that I did.
After lunch I came home, changed into my painting clothes, threw a bandanna on top of my head and started moving furniture. I was getting ready to tape when I realized I didn't have any. I thought it might be possible to get around not taping if I'm really careful, but then when I went to put the roller on the handle, I realized I had no handle...or safety goggles...or the tray to put the lining in.
I changed back into my regular clothes (keeping in mind that the hallway is packed full of couches and every time I have to go to my room I have to crawl over them then perform all kinds of acrobatics to actually get there). I ran to Rona and picked up all the supplies that I had assured the girl at the paint store I already had. Then came home and changed yet again.
I spread out the drop sheets, taped around the lights, donned the brand-new (too big) safety goggles, rolled the roller in the paint, and started painting. It was going along very smoothly for about five minutes. But then...the handle broke. Snapped right near the metal part that attaches to the roller. I ended up painting the rest of the ceiling standing on a chair covered in old pillowcases (that kept falling off every time I moved the chair), holding onto a little stub of the handle. I'm not sure if I can properly portray my frustration. Let's just say that what was coming out of my mouth was not very ladylike.
This week, I'll be prepping the walls and getting ready to paint them over the weekend. Hopefully, that won't be worthy of a blog post. Can everyone please cross their fingers that this goes a tad bit more smoothly? Thanks.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
1. My cousin: He is in the midst of trying to remove his childrens' mother from their lives. He has four kids--two girls and two boys. The girls have been protected from her for as long as they've been alive. She can see them, but she's not allowed to take them. The boys however, have the pleasure of being in her company often. Last week, she hit them with a broom handle on their legs, arms, and backs. Why? Because it was 830 at night and they were whining because they wanted to have dinner.
Anyway, my cousin is a good guy. He's quite a bit younger than me. He grew up on the family farm. His parents split up when he was young and his mom and two younger siblings moved to a different province. He stayed with his dad. I love my uncle, but he hasn't always been the most responsible guy, and my cousin has always been the adult. It makes sense then that he would fight to have full custody of his four children. He's a caretaker. And thank god for that.
But the thing is, he's stuck. He lives an hour and a half from a big city; he doesn't have enough education to do more than farm and occasionally work as a bartender for the local bar. He doesn't have a whole lot of options open to him, especially with full custody of four kids. And the true heartbreak lies in the fact that these kids don't have the opportunities that other kids (mine for instance) have and so they will more than likely follow this farmer/bartender path as well.
It's just so sad. And I'm so helpless to do anything.
2. Why am I procrastinating on starting the rest of my life? I was all gung-ho. I quit my job with big plans to do a few different things. And then...stopped. It's like if I don't try I won't fail. But honestly, I need to get moving on these things; the money I have now is not going to last forever. (Especially with three sports that need to be paid for rightthissecond.) One thing I have to do is move a desk upstairs from my basement. Instead of just doing that, I had my fireplace removed, necessitating the need to paint my entire living room, which of course, can only happen if I fill all the holes. So, obviously, I can't move the desk upstairs yet, which means I can't put my sewing machine on it, which means I can't start my life. There has to be a way around all of this...
3. My body. It's yucky. I want not to think about it, though, so I made a deal with a friend that we wouldn't. I'll still workout/run every day and not be stupid about what I put into my mouth, but, other than that, no weight talking here. Deal?
That's probably not all I've been thinking about. But enough for today. I'm feeling kind of heavy (but not in a weigh-too-much way because I don't talk about that here, more in an emotional way). I think I'll read a little lamebook.com to lighten the mood.
Friday, March 5, 2010
This one is different. This one I'm only here for four hours a day. I have time to workout in the morning, I have time to do all my errands before work and at lunch, and still be home for the boys when they come home after school. Everyday, I make a list of things that need to get done, and I'm actually able to check everything off. For that matter, I'm running out of things that need to get done.
And while I'm at work? I answer the phones (which I am totally getting the hang of), I sort the mail, and when I'm not doing that? I'm working on some freelance writing. The boss has left very implicit instructions that I am not to learn anything more than answering the phone and doing mail. So far, those rules have been followed.
I do feel a little guilty at times though. I watch others run around like chickens with their heads cut off while I sit here reading magazines and making notes on style and story needs. And sometimes I feel like maybe they're looking at me and hating me because I'm not helping while they run around like chickens with their heads cut off.
But then I remember: I chose this for a reason. I chose to leave all the security of having a full-time job. Not so that I could help others do their full-time jobs; not so that I could waste my degree by working as a receptionist, but so that I could spend some time with my children and try to figure out if I can be good at stuff that actually makes me happy. This job is the money-maker for now. This job is temporary until one or two or three of the other things I have planned works out. This is not a shitty go-nowhere job like the ones I had almost 20 years ago because it is a stepping stone to something amazing.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The question is: Have you ever been in a physical fight with someone from the opposite sex?
The answer: Yes.
Shocking? Of course. Who would hit a girl? Here's the story:
In the high school I graduated from, we had an event called "Safe Grad." This required the school (teachers/principal) to pick out a random location (a field somewhere) and not tell any of the students where it was. Then, on the night that Safe Grad happened, a few busses full of graduates would drive out to this undisclosed location to party and drink. When any of the students were ready to leave, there were volunteer parents on hand to drive them home. The thought was that it would give us a safe place to party while ensuring that there was no drinking and driving.
So, there I was, at my Safe Grad, drinking and partying and having a really good time. I was talking to a friend of mine (actually, an ex-boyfriend), when a bigger boy standing behind him called his name. My ex turned, and having a little experience in the fine art of fighting, ducked. Do you see where this is going? That's right, the bigger boy punched me right in the cheek. I was stunned.
At 17, I was a little, um, well, like any other 17-year-old I suppose. At that age, we all just have a sense of entitlement, I think. My first thought was "Nobody hits [Lily Starlight]." Although, really, who was I to make that assumption. Maybe people do hit [Lily Starlight]; maybe people dream of hitting [Lily Starlight]; maybe that was a thing that was going to start happening on a regular basis.
Looking back on it now, I'm almost a little embarrassed. Because I hit him back. With my tiny, ineffectual, little fists. I hit him five or six times. He felt awful for what he had done and he kept apologizing over and over. While I was hitting him. As hard as I could. He kept talking like nothing was happening. Apparently when I fight I float like a butterfly and sting like a...butterfly. *sigh*
Saturday, February 20, 2010
I have been thinking about what to write in this email for a couple of weeks. Unfortunately, I still have no idea what to say. There is a lot of pressure for a writer to make written things sound good. Eeshk! Probably you’ll expect me too spell everthing write two. I’m not sure if I can handle the pressure.
I thought about making this sound like a break-up letter. It’s not you; it’s me. I think we should just be friends. I love you, but I’m not in love with you. But then I realized I don’t want to break up with y’all (thanks for the word [American girl from Augusta, Georgia that works there]). I’m leaving but I’m not dead or anything; it’d be nice to hear from everyone occasionally.
I guess all I can really say is thank you. Thanks for the experience, thanks for the fun, and thanks especially for the treats at coffee central.
And also, a special thank you to whomever left the Lindt chocolates on my desk this morning. My favourite!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
And also, what a daydream killer.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
I quit while one of my coworkers was on holidays. Those of us left at work discussed how we might tell her about my leaving when she came back.
It's important to know that this is the newest member of the team. She only started a few months ago. I am the first person to quit in the entire company since she has started working there.
We thought it would be fun to have a team meeting this morning, where the boss would announce that the executive has demanded that she let one of us go. She would then say that she loves all of us and couldn't decide, so she will pass a hat around and whomever gets the piece of paper that says "FIRED" on it will be the person that has to leave. At this point the rest of us would say things along the lines of "I hate when she does this" or "Awwww, that's why Mary doesn't work here anymore."
The boss was to come in and ask me to do a small favour (perhaps ask me to send an email to one of the salesmen). The idea was that I would totally freak out. Tell her that wasn't in my job description and that if that's the way this company was going to treat me that they would have to find a way to work without me. I would then throw my stuff in a box and storm out.
We seriously giggled for hours thinking of all the ways we could mess with the new girl's mind. We're mean like that. As it turns out, we did neither of these things. Human Resources sent a notice out that I was leaving and took all our fun away.
Honestly though, if more days had been like that, I'm not sure that I'd be quitting...
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I should have stayed home. I drank too much. I called an old friend at 230 in the morning to come and get me even though I could've just as easily (more easily for him) taken a cab. The thought of being in my house alone was suddenly the most vile, horrible thought ever.
So, I didn't go home. I had that friend (the one who woke up and hopped in his car in his pajamas at 230 in the morning on a freezing January morning) drop me off somewhere else.
I shouldn't have gone out...
Friday, January 22, 2010
Brianne and Martin got to know each other as the evening continued. Brianne told him how her mother had died in that terrible combining accident. “She was driving down Jasper Ave during rush-hour on her way home from work as a top-level finance wizard. A big truck with farm equipment drove past her and a combine fell on top of her. It was awful. I had to identify the body. She still had the John Deere logo embossed into her forehead.” Brianne looked up at Martin with big, sad eyes. Martin patted her hand and looked back sympathetically. “I know exactly how you feel, Brianne. My goldfish died so I know what it’s like to lose someone important to you. Do you want to go somewhere to get some food.” Brianne was grateful for his understanding, “OK,” she answered, “but nothing with peanuts; I’m deathly allergic.”
As Brianne was putting on her jacket her shirt lifted slightly and Martin noticed the key chain that she was wearing on her belt loop. The one she never took off. It was a John Deere key chain.
On their way out of the bowling alley, they dropped their shoes off at the shoe counter. The man behind the counter was smarmy. He looked Brianne up and down slowly and wiggled his toothpick suggestively. Martin stepped in front of her and declared, “I suggest you stop making the lady uncomfortable. She doesn’t like it.” The shoe guy answered as all smarmy characters do with a clichéd, “What are you going to do about it?” “I’m a black belt in seven different marshal arts is what I’m going to do about it. I said, leave the lady alone.” The smarmy shoe guy looked away and wiggled his toothpick to show that he would back down…but not because he was scared or anything.
It was a funner day than usual.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
There's the "supportive group." These are the people that have no reservations that I'm doing the right thing. They are so happy I'm quitting the job that is slowly picking away at me piece by piece until I become just a warm body with no personality. Their eyes shine when they talk about what a positive move this is. They are behind me 100 per cent.
There's the "supportive, but...group." They want to be supportive; they're trying to be supportive, but what am I going to do for money? But, what am I going to do about benefits? But, what if it doesn't work out? But, what if I'm making the wrong decision? (Is it wrong that I actually fall into this group?)
And finally, there's the "are you crazy group." These are the people that can't believe that I would take a secure, although, mind-numbing job and throw it down the drain. Especially when we're in a recession! Are you crazy? Do you know what a bad idea this is?
Which group do you belong to?
Monday, January 18, 2010
Kids: keep (Maybe. They'll be teenagers in less than a month and I'm not sure I'm ready for that)
Extra belly fat: chuck (and that goes for the thighs and hips too)
Family: keep (I have a really good family. They drive me nuts but I'm pretty sure that's the definition of family)
Shitty self-esteem: chuck (if I can't actually be self-confident then I'll just pretend that I am)
Friends: keep (these people are amazing. Much like my family only less likely to drive me nuts)
Secure, full-time job with benefits...