Thursday, August 31, 2006
Why I Need To Go Hide In My Bed UPDATED
Without going into specifics because it’s work related, you know those times when you forget to delete something in an email and forward it to the wrong person? When the rather brutal comments that were only meant for private eyes have now just been sent to the very person they were about? It’s a very physical moment. Your productive day comes to a screeching halt as this incredible horror washes slowly down your body and you realize what you just did.
I’m farked.
UPDATED TO ADD:
I have a very understanding Supervisor. I'm still completely mortified. Trevor’s bringing home emergency beer.
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Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Three Pints Later
I came within a hair of winning the Corrie eBay keychain last night, as Liz McDonald has been around the block a few times and that counted for points. But most exciting is that I now get to be a contributing episode recap writer for Corrie Canuck!
The writers on Corrie Canuck are creative and knowledgeable, so there’s a standard to live up to. Luckily, Trevor’s agreed to help me out. He brings his sense of humor and fantastic memory for character names, history and dialogue. I can, er, type really fast and navigate Blogger. So look for us on Fridays!
And the Corrie Canuck crew are planning a real hen night! I hope we’ll all dress like our favourite characters because a part of me really wants to run around Toronto wearing angel wings and big, gaudy flowers.
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Tuesday, August 29, 2006
I Love Me Some Corrie
TREVOR: Its on tonight at 7:30. Think you could set up a record for me?
but only when you've got a sec.
WORKING: yup
WORKING: can do
TREVOR: thanks, lub
TREVOR: luv
WORKING: lubber.
TREVOR: lub you
WORKING: lubbing you
TREVOR: lub my lub
WORKING: Damn. Ruined another tea.
TREVOR: hey, isn't that Corrie meet-up tonight?
WORKING: Yes.
WORKING: You're working late though, aren't you?
WORKING: Hey! I could still go! By myself!
TREVOR: imagine that!
TREVOR: you might actually have a good time
TREVOR: I may be able to pop by at the end for a pint. Unless you're going "stag".
WORKING: Ha. No, come along. I can even wait for you if it wraps up early. What time do you think you'll be off?
TREVOR: well, same-ish as last night. But I can try to leave by 8.
WORKING: Now I have to think of a character to research so I can try to win the classic Corrie ebay prize.
TREVOR: ?
WORKING: We're supposed to pick a character, do background research, and then get quizzed by G.. Last person standing wins the prize.
TREVOR: cool
TREVOR: who do you WANT to do?
WORKING: I like Liz McDonald.
TREVOR: nice one
WORKING: She's been around awhile, she’s had a few interesting things happen to her, and she's not as annoying as Gail or as complicated as Deirdre.
TREVOR: go for it
WORKING: Hm. She doesn't have as sordid a past as I thought. I’d be out in an early round. Maybe I should try and master Deirdre. Daunting, but maybe I could pull it off in time....
WORKING: Dammit, I just spilled my tea down my front again.
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Afterthought
For our wedding project, Trevor was asked to describe my general philosophy. He replied, “I’m still trying to that out because it seems to change from one day to the next.” So no, James, I don’t think I should get my tubes tied any time soon. My philosophy regarding children seems to be highly dependent on my mood. Your assertion that there's no time to be happy or unhappy when you have kids is either discouraging or comforting.
This is fun.
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Monday, August 28, 2006
To Spawn or Not To Spawn
"I took pleasure when I could. I acted clearly and morally and without regret. I'm very lucky."
--Jeanne Louise Calment, lived 122 years and 164 days (February 21, 1875 – August 4, 1997)
Trevor and I had a most perfect weekend. We spent Saturday wandering along Queen East and West, drinking pints, exploring stores, watching people. That night we had a “Tribute to Grade Four" night (bologna on white with KD and Cokes is really a once-a-year experience).
I heard something interesting on CBC’s Quirks and Quarks. I think the gist of what the Scientist said was that happiness has more to do with the day-to-day than the big things. That a new job or raise or book deal is only a kind of short-lived high. More long-term happiness comes from belonging to a community, of day-to-day social interactions. The little things.
He added that out of all the families studied, couples reported they experienced happiness before the kids were born. Then they experienced a sharp decline of happiness that lasted pretty much until the kids left home. Then they were happy again. This was not to say they didn’t find the experience valuable, it was just a fact that their day-to-day satisfaction and overall wellbeing declined, if I’m understanding it correctly. For twenty or so years.
I thought about this as we sat listening to the rain, drinking coffees and reading the Sunday newspaper. I’m starting to feel stuck in my ways, ways that I very much enjoy. I honestly wonder if I want to mess with things?
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Sunday, August 27, 2006
Crappy Endings
We rented the series finale of Carnivale and the movie The Family Stone. I liked Carnivale. It’s tragic how the season was handled. I heard they found out they were cancelled and the storyline they’d intended for six seasons had to be condensed into a few episodes. I don’t know if this is true, but it sure fits. It was a messy ending. So many loose threads.
As for The Family Stone, I actually liked it. Right up until they took a roller brush and final-coated the shit out of the ending. Oh my God, the swelling music and gooey, convenient happiness that just. Wouldn't. End.
Why does Hollywood do this to movies? Is it all about focus groups choosing movie endings? You know, if people in focus groups knew how to make movies, they’d likely be out making them. Any chance they're just telling you what they hope happens to the characters? I don’t mind leaving a theatre with unanswered questions, a little room for ‘what if’ and my own imagination.
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Saturday, August 26, 2006
Call for Querents
I’d like to thank the people who participated in last week’s call for Tarot guinea pigs. You were each a great pleasure to read for and I hope you enjoyed the experience. I’m learning the kind of stuff that can only be gained by reading for others.
I’ve been approached about doing a session for an end-of-summer road trip weekend. Eight readings in one day for complete strangers. Yikes. I best get lots of practice, build up my stamina.
I have about 4 openings for the upcoming week. Remote readings, you just need access to email and some time. Still gratis, as you are indeed providing me with the experience. Head’s up – I’m no fortune teller. Can’t read if you’re going have a fire or meet ‘tall, dark and handsome’ anytime soon. Though I did recently predict that someone was going white water rafting, but that’s hardly major psychic work (though you wouldn’t know it from my excited reaction).
workingathometoday at hotmail dot com for appointments.
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Thursday, August 24, 2006
Tarot News
WORKING: I just got a personal invitation to a private event for the author of my new Tarot bible. Not only am I already going to the workshop, but I get to be at a dinner where the people who really know will be informally talking about all things Tarot.
WORKING: I can hardly believe it!
TREV: holy crap, babe! That's fantastic!
WORKING: It's freakin' amazing!
TREV: way to go! who are you talking about?
WORKING: My Tarot reader / teacher invited me.
WORKING: The expert's coming up from the States.
WORKING: She is probably the foremost in the Tarot field right now, along with Rachel Pollack.
WORKING: "along with Rachel Pollack". I'm such a nerd.
TREV: you could've said "along with Mike Fitsimmons." or "along with Leopold Barjanjapittles” for all I know
WORKING: Exactly. It's completely irrelevant to anyone outside of this world.
TREV: I could've said (in the context of Superman artists) "along with John Byrne." That would be the same thing.
WORKING: Yes. That is exactly the same thing.
WORKING: = nerdom
WORKING: But I'm so excited!
WORKING: I'm going to try not to gush when I'm there. I think that's dorky.
TREV: Gushing is bad.
TREV: best to fake like its no biggie and you're supposed to be there.
WORKING: My urge is less to gush and more to prove how much I know and impress them. I have to control that.
WORKING: At my level, I have nothing to say that these people haven't thought about and written about. This is a big chance for me to learn beyond what I know and that should be my goal.
TREV: listen and learn, grasshopper.
TREV: and confidently give your opinion when asked.
TREV: and thank the one who invited you at the end
WORKING: Look at you, Mr. Manners! Good tip, though. I hope I don't forget. Must remember to bring some wine for the host.
WORKIGN: I’m so excited!
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Why I Watch the Mary Tyler Moore Show
I have to admit a slight fascination with a certain type of woman. This woman always leaves a space tidier than she found it. She organizes her files neatly and her pens match. She has a tidy desk, clean car and a meticulous apartment. Her hair, make-up and clothes are well thought out and always neatly presented. Her casual Friday outfits are more fashionable than my job interview outfits. She works efficiently and never has a bad word for anyone, let alone a cuss word. She sips wine and eats in small bites. In short, she is Mary Richards.
I'm more of the type who leaves a trail of books, papers, socks, coffee cups and general chaos wherever I've been. I eat and drink like a starving wolf. I can clean up pretty well, but only if I have somewhere special to be. Otherwise, my style can be described as "cleanish and top of the pile." So when I’ve come across these kinds of women in real life, I am a bit in awe. Oh, I know that’s unfashionable. But I think of her as the exact opposite of me, which makes her an alien species worth studying.
My parents had five kids and when Mom left, it was down to Dad for the next eight years until he remarried. He was always busy with overtime service work and we didn’t know anything about housecleaning. Didn’t want to know. It’s almost as though the sheer chaos was part of the rebellion and anger. I went into young adulthood with no skills and thinking that women who had it together were obviously repressed.
I’m changing my mind as I get older. I don’t know specifically about these women, they’re probably each different and all have their own problems. But I am inspired by their efficient energy. I’m willing to let the dog get prints on the couch and I don’t mind if there are socks lying around. But I’m getting less and less patient about disorganization (just because I’m currently disorganized doesn't mean I’m not thinking about not being, Trevor. So hush.)
This isn’t a man / woman thing. He walks in the door and starts picking things up as he goes, a habit that is truly on my list of things to remember to do. There is something highly meditative and satisfying about putting one’s home in order, going to bed with a clean kitchen. Folding the laundry so it doesn’t sit in a molding pile on the floor for weeks and weeks and weeks (who, me?).
But I still think Rhoda was prettier.
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Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Working Performs Community Service
Why you people come to this blog, I’ll never know. Especially when I talk about boring crap like dog walking. I really want to talk about my neighbours, but I hardly know them and I have this fear that they could come across this blog. Let’s leave it at this: they seem like nice people.
Instead I’ll talk about the neighbourhood headache, a dog named Lucky. She’s a very large, shepherd / husky cross. She barks her head off at everyone she sees and since six yards back onto hers (Toronto being crazy like that), she barks. All day. Non-stop.
I threw Charlie’s ball over their fence and had to retrieve it. Don’t ask me why, but I offered to walk Lucky for them. She’s a big dog, a mix of two active breeds. My theory, inspired largely by those who know, is that she needs somewhere to put that energy. And to date that’s meant going ape-shit at the neighbours.
The first walk was on the weekend. Lucky behaved like a massive jumping bean. Absolutely squirrelly. But after a few corrections and a good run (from which I returned more worse for wear than the dogs), she stopped trying to rip Charlie’s face off.
Today was run number two. She’s more comfortable now. She didn’t growl at the dogs in the park, though I was pretty quick with the correction as soon as she so much as gave them ‘the look’. However, she did try to rip Charlie’s face off once and lunged at a passer-by. She got ‘the finger bite’ for that, but she responded immediately. I was very happy.
And the absolute icing was later in the day when she started barking her head off at an older Greek woman trying to trim the hedges. I got as close to Lucky as I could, did the “shhht-stare-finger” correction thingy and she immediately shut up.
Until I went back inside. But at least it’s something.
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Monday, August 21, 2006
Gets Me Right Here, Y'know?
Just one of the things that makes it very hard to be so far from Saskatchewan. I'm missing this sweet, kissable nephew face.
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Dear Saskatchewan
Saskatchewan, we need to talk. Do you have a mo’? I heard through the grapevine that you want me back. Look, we broke up two and a half years ago. I’ve moved on. Don’t you think it’s time to let go?
Come on, Saskatchewan, it’s not you, it’s me. It just didn’t work out. I needed a change. I needed to move on.
Oh, forget what you’ve heard! I didn’t leave you for Toronto and screw those who say I did! I moved for Trevor, not Toronto. Only now I’m Trevor’s new girlfriend and Toronto’s like his best guy friend who doesn’t like me and we go out for beers and everything’s polite for the first two rounds but soon the hints start flying and I wanna leave and Trevor and I go to bed not talking. Meanwhile, Toronto slams me to all his other friends about what a controlling bitch I am. Toronto can be harsh, you know.
Not like you, Saskatchewan. You’re such a nice person. It’s just…. I mean, maybe you’re too nice. Maybe I need a little danger, a little excitement. Crack heads on subways, rude bus drivers, a few shootings here and there, shopping in Chinatown on a Saturday….
Oh come on, now, this has to stop! I know what you’re trying to do. You have my parents calling me telling me how beautiful the summer’s been, how cool the nights are. You even have my sister emailing me that she made a butt-load selling her house and saying how you can get a nice rental place for under $600 a month. And now these reports about too many jobs? How’s that supposed to make me feel?! Cease and desist, Saskatchewan.
Don't cry. You know you’re beautiful, Saskatchewan. You have a lot going for you. You were good to me for 28 years. We had a great run. Sometimes these things just happen. If you love someone, let them go free and if they return and blah-blah-blah.
Wait a sec, what do you mean, “A campaign by Saskatchewan to lure former residents back from Alberta appears to be hitting home.” Oh. I see. You were talking to Alberta this whole time. Why didn’t you just say that at the beginning? Why did you let me go on?
So you didn’t even want me. No, no, no, I understand. It’s the Ontario thing, isn’t it? Oh sure, Ontario has bling but you better believe I make my own decisions, Sasktachewan. I am not so easily seduced to the ‘dark side’. How dare you imply that I'm a lost cause by not even bothering to come after me? I’m so worth it, you know.
You know what? Forget it. Forget I called. It’s over. I know it’s over. Goodbye.
But if you’re ever in the neighbourhood…. Yes, fine, you can bring your stupid girlfriend, Alberta. Fine. I said FINE! I’ll be nice. I will so! Shut up!
Call me.
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Saturday, August 19, 2006
Dancin' Tune
Download Scissor Sisters “I Don’t Feel Like Dancing”. I dare you not to dance.
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Four Years
WORKING: Did you feel me go online?
WORKING: Because I just did!
WORKING: And here you are! We signed on at EXACTLY THE SAME TIME.
TREV: Yeah I felt you. it was like a nagging pain in my head.
* * *
We’ve been together for four years. We just realized it this week, even though technically I think our ‘dating anniversary’ was weeks ago. Neither of us can remember our first date.
But four years is a landmark for both of us and ought to be observed. We found a patio on the Danforth and drank wine and ate way too much Chinese food. Trevor was a star with the chopsticks and flung a piece of breaded octopus over the railing. There was one very happy mini-Schnauzer walking down the Danforth last night, chewing and chewing and chewing….
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Thursday, August 17, 2006
How the Dog Did It
Here is how the dog peed on my back:
I was sitting on a hill enjoying the early evening sun. I was listening to my iPod so I didn’t hear the dog. Suddenly, I felt something warm and wet on my back. I knew what it was immediately because, oh yes, I have been peed on before. But those times it was on my leg and that's gross enough.
I sprang up and danced around shrieking loudly, drawing curious looks from the baseball teams in the field below and the soccer teams on the pitch above.
“What happened?” the other dog owner asked.
“He peed on me!”
“Which? Your dog?” Now, she couldn’t have known my dog is female so I’m glad I didn’t say something bitchy about penises and leg raising.
“Did he really pee on me?” I asked, frantically spinning around in place and grabbing at my t-shirt.
“Oh yes. He did,” she said mournfully.
“I’m going home.”
“Who did it?”
“That one!” I pointed to the massive, ruddy Ridgeback-cross.
“Him? Oh my god! He didn’t! Oh, I am so sorry. I’m dog-sitting, he’s not mine, I didn’t know he would do such a thing-“
“It’s okay.”
“But it isn’t! Oh, I feel so bad.”
“You didn’t pee on me.”
“But he’s my responsibility.”
“Well, I’m going home,” I repeated, and I did, trying to keep my back to bushes and face to oncoming traffic. Because it looked exactly like a big dog just peed on me.
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Wednesday, August 16, 2006
I'm No Cesar Milan
A dramatic hiccup in my quest to be the Riverdale Dog Whisperer.
A dog. F*cking peed on me. At the park.
I leave it to your imagination as to how the f*cker aimed that high. Any guesses?
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Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Tarot Readings
I've figured out a way to do far more effective remote readings. I'm still learning, so I'm not hanging out my shingle just yet. But I welcome the chance to do readings for practice and experience. If you'd like to volunteer, I'm honoured and appreciative. Just fire me an email.
NOTE: While I keep everything confidential*, please be aware that these readings get quite personal. Especially if you know me and there are things you don't feel comfortable telling me, it's best we not do a reading on those particular issues.
* I mean it. I do not discuss readings with Trevor or anyone else.
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They Are Animals, After All
WORKING: Charlie is finishing off a mouse.
TREVOR: where'd she get that? Kiwi?
WORKING: Yup.
WORKING: Evil Kiwi abandoned it and it's still alive and hurt, so I thought maybe I'd let Charlie finish the job.
TREVOR: more than happy to oblige, I'm sure.
WORKING: She's pawing at it.
WORKING: Uh oh, the Roll of Death.
TREVOR: the roll that brings the hose
WORKING: Again! And again!
WORKING: 60 lbs of nose-diving body slam!
TREVOR: well, keep her outside
WORKING: But do you know why this is happening?
TREVOR: because we feed her raw meat?
WORKING: No. Because yesterday I boasted to Bix's owner that Charlie doesn't roll in dead things.
TREVOR: HAHA! Take that!
WORKING: I deserve it.
* * *
WORKING: I disposed of the mouse. It was a mercifully quick death with nothing to clean.
TREVOR: Nice.
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Day Two
Must report I completed all 30-Day tasks with one little snag. I had to decide if the writing component could include blogging. I decided it could.
This morning I was feeling like a real suck about this 30-day crap (I know, it’s only Day two). I even threw a mini fit last night, “I don’t wanna” being my natural reaction to any kind of self-discipline. Then I read Liz’s entry over at Granny Gets a Vibrator. A very cool lady, she recently went through a harsh biopsy and still managed to extend a righteous middle finger and a grin.
I admire people like her who do what they love doing with pure passion and dedication (in her case, weight training, her garden). Living in a the daily fog has done me no favours. I want to wake up now. That is why the 30 days.
Go Liz!
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Monday, August 14, 2006
30 Days
Trevor and I started working on our creative project for our wedding. One component was a sort of ‘airing of grievances’. I laughed my ass off when he described my slovenly ways, how I never close cupboard doors and leave my socks everywhere. It didn’t bother me when he poked fun of my past. I did the same to him.
The only thing that got to me? When he said I tend to talk a lot about the dog to other people. A lot. To the point of boring. And that I’ll likely be the same way about my kids.
I knew about my slobishness. I’m at peace with my chaos. But to suddenly realize I’m ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE. Those f%cking dog people. Holy sh!t. I need time to digest this. I need to rethink this. I need more hobbies.
Further inspiration for the “30 Days of Getting My Sh!t Together” campaign. We’ve had the first cool nights of the summer and it makes me think about Autumn, crisp nights and turning leaves. New projects and new office supplies (I love shopping for office supplies). New schedules and a renewed commitment to structure. So this week I am launching 30-days of realignment:
- 30 days of AM/PM Yoga
- 30 days of one-hour walks with the dog
- 30 days of writing
- 30 days of Tarot
- 30 days of half hour of housecleaning a day
They say after 30 days, it becomes habit. Yes, it’s bloody ambitious, considering I have to fit it all between things like groceries and dishes and sleep and television and, oh yeah, my full-time job which threatens to truly SUCK this month. But the time is now. Now is the time. Feel my buzz, people!
Updates here. Will I fall off the 30-day wagon? Or will I actually succeed and then bore you to freakin' tears with preachings of “how easy it is if YOU only have the commitment, too"? You know, like one of THOSE people. Stay tuned!
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Sunday, August 13, 2006
My Job
I’ve had a question asking me what I do, presumably for a living. Officially, I freelance as a researcher-writer in the Canadian television industry, currently on a lifestyle show.
Unofficially, I lose my cup of tea, my socks, my notebook, my cool and my mind no less than ten times a day. After two and a half years working from home, I’ve gotten better at it. If I’m honest, it’s the tight deadlines that make all the difference. If it’s not screaming at me right now, I likely won’t get ‘round to it. That’s probably bad. Though, I'm well suited to this here-today-gone-tomorrow industry.
Why, what do you all do? Come on, delurk and tell me all about your working frailties.
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Saturday, August 12, 2006
More on Tarot
I’ve been thinking a lot about my Tarot reading lately. I’ve sort of renewed my commitment to it. I love the cards. I enjoy the study, the archetypes ‘n such.
I learn best by watching so I had two very different readings this week. Last night, Trevor and I were sitting on a stone wall in Yorkville waiting for our movie to start when I noticed a woman across the street setting up a folding table and a sign that said “Psychic Tarot and Palm Readings”. Trev gave me the $20 because he supports my random acts of madness and I went and sat down across from her.
She was petite, older. She had ‘the look’ and the accent. She asked me to cut the deck, select three cards and make three wishes. Her deck was frayed and warn, almost as soft as cloth. She laid out the rest of the cards, row upon row, and I was happy to recognize the Rider Waite deck.
Then she did what they most often do, she rambled off a series of fortunes. Basically, I’m going to be very lucky in life, love and career. I’m going to have two children, a boy and a girl (this isn’t the first time I’ve heard this). My wishes are going to come true. But there are people around me that I can’t trust and I need to hold my cards closer to my chest.
The other reading I had was completely different. James Wells is a reader in Toronto who describes his reading as reflecting a “choice-oriented model of living,” “you already possess the wisdom you need,” “a process of mutual feedback,” and the creation of “tangible action.”
I walked to his apartment and he invited me in and served me homemade iced tea. He let me choose the deck. We talked about the issue I wanted to discuss (my writing and why I don't or can't or won't) and decided on the questions. Where does writing fit into my life? Why am I consistently stalled? What can I do to get motivated? Then he created a spread. Two cards for this question, three for that, etc.. I selected the cards, he laid them out.
Then we went through each card. “What do you see in that one?” he would ask. I would describe it in minute detail and create a story about what I was seeing. James would pick up on key words in my story and we would explore them in the context of my writing. “You said the angel looks as though he has run away. What is he running from?”
It was basically an intense therapy session. The cards’ ‘official meanings’ were only loosely relevant. Rather, the answers are in the querent. The cards and reader are just there to draw them out.
I have no real opinion of fortune telling, other than I believe it’s possible and I know I can’t read that way because I am neither psychic or even highly intuitive. James’ techniques, however, are very appealing. It still involves synchronicity, which is magic enough for me.
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Friday, August 11, 2006
Movie and The Cards
If you need a break from life, may I recommend Little Miss Sunshine. One of the best movies I've ever seen.
And get a Tarot reading, introspective or fortune telling, your choice. I’ve had both this week. I'd tell you about them, but apparently people are judging me harshly behind my back and I'm to keep things to myself. Which should succeed in making this blog bloody boring.
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Third Last Day of Holidays
To make my parents’ vacation that much sweeter, I booked them appointments at my local Shiatsu place. I was going to book three appointments, but my step mom had treated me to one of her Reflexology work-overs the night before (wherein I completely lost focus on ‘Deadwood’ because of the pain, oh the pain!). Anyway, I was still feeling good. So I guided them to the place and took my leave.
When they returned, both said the treatments were good. Dad rolled his head around to show me the looseness in his neck. My step-mom, however, didn’t seem to be as impressed. Apparently the Shiatsu practitioner gave her a life story over the treatment. Dad rolled his eyes, “these things are always happening to her.”
Step-mom laughed and agreed that for some reason people talk to her like crazy. The practitioner had even insisted on having her picture taken with Step-mom and gave her an email address. I was surprised because I’ve been going to the place for a while and my treatments have been so quiet that I’d figured they weren’t supposed to talk.
Today I was feeling stiff again, so I booked myself in. A petite Asian girl with small hands and a very limp handshake met me out front and gushed that she had met my mom. Oh just freakin’ great I thought. This weak-armed woman is going to give me a crap treatment and talk my ear off.
First of all, her limp handshake must have been because she was saving her strength. I almost started crying when she worked my neck. Second, we shared maybe ten or so words the whole time, including “head up”, “move left” and “turn over”. The rest was silent.
I couldn’t help musing about what this all meant. People open up to Step-mom. But they don’t talk to me. In fact, almost every service I have done is in a cone of silence. Hair appointments, massages, hell, even the dentist. I wondered if I should take this personally. Do they find me standoffish? Prickly? Introverted? Or just meditative? Did she pick up on my "don't ruin this by talking" vibe?
Then she attacked a particularly tender spot on my back with superhuman force and I forgot to care anymore.
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Thursday, August 10, 2006
Still On Holidays
WORKING: Hello
TREVOR: hey. how'd it go?
WORKING: Good. turns out I don't have to fast for these blood tests anymore. That was for a different test that I don't have to do.
WORKING: Now I just have to harass my doctor for the results.
TREVOR: keep on 'im
WORKING: Nice day on the Danforth.
WORKING: I was waiting for the Tarot store to open but as of 10:15, she still hadn't come. So I left.
TREVOR: it wasn't in the cards! Oh! I slay me.
WORKING: Ha.
WORKING: Speaking of which, I booked a professional reading with James Wells.
WORKING: I want to see how it's really supposed to be done.
TREVOR: cool
WORKING: I'm going to ask him whether I should marry you.
TREVOR: is that supposed to be funny?
WORKING: Yes. I'm going to ask about my writing.
TREVOR: I know you're gonna ask him the former anyway.
WORKING: No, I'm bringing one issue to the table. It's my writing.
WORKING: I have no issues with marrying you.
TREVOR: cool
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Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Moping
My parents just left. I watched them walk down the block to the bus stop. I didn’t have a lot of time to think about how to entertain them over the past five days but it just sort of took care of itself. We actually had a lot of fun. Toronto looks better when you’re showing it off.
They helped me buy my wedding dress. They also supported my decision to buy my wedding boots at Fluevog. Now I’m going to nurse the rest of this hangover. Yes, my parents got me drunk. I love them so. And I miss them already.
Shout out to Sister II for the Blue Jays tickets. Shitty game, fantastic experience. Nine innings feels like nothing when you're actually there.
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Monday, August 07, 2006
The Dress Part II
Yesterday, I was wearing my wedding dress around the house. I suddenly had the urge to go outside. You know, to throw Charlie her breakfast. Picture what the neighbours would see: A woman with bed head wearing a wedding dress and clogs, tossing a chicken, head and feet intact, to a hound. We haven’t really clicked with the neighbours yet, so maybe it’s time they got the urge to move.
Unfortunately Trevor dissuaded me.
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Sunday, August 06, 2006
THE DRESS
It was found on Queen Street W. in a store called Fashion Crimes, the first store and ONLY store we went into.
The dress itself? Maybe Deadwood meets Interview with a Vampire. I love it so.
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Friday, August 04, 2006
Okay. This is the deal.
Talk soon…have SOOOOO much fun visiting and talking wedding with [the Parents]. I know it can be a little painful for you but take it for what it is…this is finally our chance to do something for you and show you how much you mean to us! You are too independent for us to be able to do it any other time….
XOXOXO
Sister II
It’s true. While I like weddings, I have a phobia of my own and people have a hard time getting me to talk about anything wedding related. My favourite part of the process has been talking to the AV guy about lighting and sound, the LBO about beer and wine and the hotel about food.
My least favourite part has been talking about First Dance and the walk up the aisle. I loathe the idea that I have to go buy a dress.
Now don’t get me wrong – I love Trevor very much. Marrying him is the most important thing to me now. And throwing a party for the important people in our lives is a really good idea. We want to do it. I want to do it.
It’s more like… as a child, did you ever look so forward to your birthday but when you got to the birthday cake part you suddenly realized everyone was LOOKING at you? Did you freak out and burst into tears? It feels like that.
Our relationship has largely developed in isolation. We hid it from our employers for a long time, and since Trevor lived mostly in Toronto, my life didn’t change that much for the first year we dated. We saw each other when we could.
Then I followed him to Toronto and this is where we really became a couple. Here in our little bubble of a life. We have no family nearby and only a small group of good friends. I come from a massive family and a fairly social past, so this experience of isolation has been really altering. I’m a different person. I’m reclusive.
Come October, we’re to be thrust into a spotlight. I know they’re our friends and family and they love us and they’re happy for us. I really, truly want to show them a good time. But a big part of me wishes it was just a party, that Trevor and I could be at a table just watching with everyone else. That I could be hanging out with the A/V guy in the back or looking through the lens of a camera instead of being looked at. And the aisle and the dress and the first dance, those are the most intense times of scrutiny and they make me a little, well, queasy.
However, while I’m freaked out by flying, it never stops me from getting on the plane. Luckily, our guests are the type who will understand if we lop off big chunks of traditional this or that. They'll think we're being 'unique'. But you all know my secret - it's the way it is because of me. It's what it's going to take.
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Thursday, August 03, 2006
QOTD
What is that law in Physics, the one that says a headphone or laptop cord of any length or width will be immediately and unavoidably attracted to the wheels of an office chair?
In other news, my parents arrive tomorrow. They already know I'm a slob, but I want to give them the illusion that I've changed. (Trevor, true love is in the details. Sometimes you have to tell a bold-faced lie for your lady.)
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Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Curves
Gary Heavin[Founder of Curves] is far from the first successful businessman to underwrite reproductive causes — Tom Monaghan of Domino's Pizza and Carl Karcher, founder of the California-based hamburger chain Carl's Jr., have been very open and public regarding their support of the pro-life philosophy, just as Warren Buffett, ranked by Forbes magazine as the second-richest man in the world, has been forthcoming about his backing of pro-choice programs. In each instance, these men are acting as private citizens who choose to bestow parts of their fortunes on the causes they believe in, not as officers of their corporations. The money is theirs to do with as they please, just as anyone's paycheck belongs to the person who earns it and stops being the employer's money at the moment it is paid out. That a spendthrift employee might choose to gamble away his earnings doesn't mean the company he works for supports gambling; likewise, that a wealthy man financially supports particular causes doesn't mean the corporation that paid him the money favors those movements.
All this is by way of saying that while it's correct to identify Gary Heavin as a patron of pro-life endeavors, it would not be right to point to Curves as a supporter of those same causes.
--- excerpt from Barbara "cause and effect" Mikkelson at Snopes.com
However, knowing where the money's going makes me less likely to put more into the coffers. As money is power (hell, it's practically God these days), it is our business what billionaires are doing with it, private or not. A Curves employee's paycheck is hardly capable of making or breaking an entire cause or people. When you have varying amounts of money (read: control of a percentage of humanity's resources), you have varying amounts of responsibility and yes, I believe you are to be held accountable.
Bottom line, I don't think I'll be going to Curves anytime soon.
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Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Horrified
I actually had to go to a website that could automatically calculate what percentage 32 was of 189. Does anyone remember how to do that stuff? Do enlighten me.
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Heat Wave
The sun is just coming up over the neighbour’s house, illuminating a red spider that built a web across our window. I watched it take down a fly. Now it is happily sucking out the fly’s juicy innards. I’m only assuming it’s happy because it’s going at it with the kind of focus I show to the first coffee of the day.
The clock reads 7:11 AM. I’ve already walked Charlie. Going outside at 6:00 AM was like walking into a wet sheet. CBC says the humidex is already above 40. Extreme heat warnings. The air conditioner reads 73 degrees. It’s blowing actual mist. There has been a permanent sweat at my hairline and down my back for three days now.
Today is a day for slow thinking and smooth, planned actions, people. Drink plenty of fluids.
The spider’s had its fly. I'm off to have my coffee.
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