Dog Update

The big dogs got their groomies on today. Rocky looks particularly dashing. I swear, it looks like they flat ironed his hair. He looks sharp.

Portia is mad and has been standoff-ish since her return. The groomer said Portia had so much hair that the groomer had to put a mask on. On the groomer herself, not on Portiacakes.

Lola has discovered there is a WHOLE WORLD beyond the patio. She took her first journey down the patio steps today and into the yard. she was VERY upset when the big dogs left for their hair appointments and actually screamed and cried. And then she realized that she still had a lap to sit in and she was okay. She is currently going puppy crazy with Jennifer.

Tonight Jenge and I go out to see Deborah DiGiovani at the Laugh Shop. I'm really looking forward to it!

So what?

I love to shop. So what? So sue me! [Actually, that would cut into my shopping money, so forget I said anything].

I would have no problem spending money if I won the lottery. Here's what's currently on the lottery list.

1. The new ipod shuffle SO CUTE
2. Sony e-Reader
3. iPod alarm clock for my room.
4. New running shoes. I love new shoe smell!
5. Thermal vest - for bootcamp
6. Puma shoes for every day of the week. No seriously, I saw a whole wall today and I liked at least 7 of them.
7. PVR
8. Hello Kitty Diamond watch. Sigh. So cute.

Remembering Carmie

Uncle Carmie died the same year as my dad. Carmie died in June, after Mary in May, but before Dad, in August. And sometimes I feel like Carmie's death was eclipsed by Dad's. Carmie lived in Cape Breton, and the photo above is a picture of his bungalow. I remember trips there as a kid, and we would go swimming in the lake. I was terrified of Jelly Fish. There are train tracks close by and we would put pennies on them and then hunt them down after the train had squished them.

The last time I went there, before I went for the funeral in 2006, I was 13. And surly. And in a bad mood. All summer. I was away from my friends for the summer, and not happy about it. I would glower at people when they tried to be nice to me. And Carmie would try hard not to laugh and say "Ah, the look." And I was mad, so mad that he wasn't affected by my obviously surly gaze! In fact, he seemed to find it really funny!

Looking back now, I laugh at my younger self. And I think that I'm pretty lucky my Uncle was amused by it instead of being hurt, or annoyed.

Mum and I had been planning a trip to Cape Breton for the fall of 2006. I was finally going to see the fall colors of east. And then Carmie died, so we went in June. And I was really, really mad at myself for not having gone back sooner. A classic case of waiting too long, thinking you have more time, etc etc. You know? I was really sad I didn't get to see Carmie. Sit on his enclosed porch and just hang out.

The Book and Writing

For years, I have been working on The Book. The Book has no title - at least, not one I want to share. And that's the problem with my writing. I don't like to share it. I like to hoard it. It takes me a LONG LONG time to be comfortable enough to share my writing. Donna had to wait YEARS before I showed her anything and Ashleigh only got to read stuff because she was coughing up her own writing. And every time I would exchange stuff with Ash, I would nervously check my inbox for feedback.

I've been writing short stories, novels, extended plots, soap operas etc since I was 17. I used to write what I wanted when I wanted how I wanted. And somewhere, sometime I got caught up in GETTING PUBLISHED. and suddenly writing wasn't fun anymore. It was stressful, and a chore, and it was painful, and I watched the clock while I did it and every word that got typed got scrutinized painfully. And counted. Would a publisher like this? what would a reader say/think? who would my readers be? Was it childish? Cliched? Was I following the 'rules' I'd learned in Grade 7 - Introduction, Rising Action, Climax, Denouement. Was there enough character growth? Too much? would people care about my characters? Too much dialogue?

Ashleigh and I set deadlines for ourselves, for each other, made promises to deliver pages, paragraphs - on time [and under budget!].

And it was HORRIBLE. I had never disliked writing before. I had never dreaded it. I used to sit in my bedroom on the floor with a pitcher of koolaid and a fine selection of CDs/cassette tapes and just have at 'er with my Special Pens and my Special Notebooks.

I had to think long and hard about what I was doing and why. and I decided to Frak it. Did I care about getting published? Sure I did, but not as much as i wanted to get the 'happy' that had been SUCKED out of my writing hobby.

So, I've dropped The Book. At least Book 1. There was too much emotional baggage wrapped up in it. And now I write what I want when I want and how I want. and the Happy is still there! It was waiting for me to get my head out of my ass!

I still consider myself a writer. Even if I never get published, even if I never even try to get published. I like my stuff. I never think, Jeez, I wish that hadn't have happened, or why did so and so go do THAT, - the way I do when I read books. Because when I write, I am god. Stuff only happens because I want it to happen and people only do stuff because of reasons I've given them. It's narcissistic and self-centered and MINE ALL MINE.

And you'll probably never get to read it. And I'm okay with that.

BFF

Portia and Lola are Besties [that's Best Friends or BFF for all the lingo-less]. Lola sticks her ENTIRE head inside Portia's mouth when they are playing. Portia lets Lola nibble on her ears. Portia shows remarkable patience when the puppy is pawing her. And Lola loves her some Portiacakes. Now if only Rocky wouldn't LOSE HIS MIND and bark non-stop when they played.

Bootcamp Lowdown

So, as mentioned in the previous post, I am back at Bootcamp. Tuesday was my first day back and we did our usually fitness test.
1. How fast can you run a 1km?
2 How many pushups on your toes and/or your knees can you do in 1 minute?
3. How many crunches can you do in one minute?
4. How long can you hold "The Plank" [plank of death!]
5. How long can you hold "The Squat"

While my results were not as good as my last round of bootcamp, they weren't as bad as my very first fitness test, indicating that while I've lot a lot of what I gained, I'm not back at square 1. Whoot whoot.

Although..... after the fitness test we started working out and by Wednesday morning, my legs were so sore I was afraid I wouldn't be able to sit down on a toilet and get back up. Seems my legs had forgotten all about bootcamp. one of my fellow bootcampers [who is also back after a slight sojourn] noted that she thought she would need help getting her bra off after our pushup work out.

I was telling Michelle that her getting me fit has produced some kind of weird Trickle Down Regan-omics effect. Donna and I now go roller skating and for walks. And I've recently introduced the Thursday Nooner at work, where we go for a walk/jog/stumble around the neighboorhood. And while I still believe the over physically fit are peppering the world with LIES ["I just can't function if I don't get my 32 km run in!"] I have become a tentative believer in some of the propoganda. I find my body really doesn't hurt as much when I'm working out regularly.

Back at Bootcamp and training for my next 5km!

Back to Bootcamp

Well, in December, I had to end my last bootcamp a week early, due to a business trip to San Francisco. and then my bootcamp instructor, the Awesome Michelle, went to go climb a mountain. No really. She's that fit. And so I was going to STAY FIT on my own. and sign up for bootcamp the first chance I had in January.

Only then I didn't. And I've been on a non stop feeding frenzy since Christmas. Like a "It's the end of the world as we know it" frenzy. It's been croissants for breakfast and cookies for lunch and cupcakes for dessert.

And I'm not one of those people who get physically sick from eating bad. Just emotionally sick. as in, WTF am I DOING?? WHY am I doing this? Don't I have any self control? Oh, is that a left over croissant there, hang on.....

So, I signed up for Bootcamp again and tomorrow is day one. I'm only going twice a week this time, because it's FRAKING FEBRUARY and cold, but I AM going.

Jessi and I have already signed up for a 5k in March, and I'm going to run it. So, it's back to Bootcamp for me!

A Post by Lola

Hi! I'm still new to this all and trying to figure some stuff out, but here's how I think it goes.
1. Portia will play with you until Portia is done. And then she will growl. If you don't back off immediately and show her your belly, she will lay on the smack down.
2. There is no telling when Portia will be done playing. Sometimes it's five minutes, sometimes it's 10 seconds.
3. If you walk away from your food bowl more than 5 times during breakfast or dinner, it gets taken away.
4. The best place to potty is the piano room. Paws down. although you get yelled at for it.
5. It is possible to jump off the bed when you get left there, but you have to really really really want it.
6. Mummy does not want to talk to you while she is in the shower.
7. The best water is in Rocky's bowl, and no one drinks water from anywhere else.
8. I love Rocky. I'm sure he's just playing hard to get.
9. Going down stairs is WAY HARDER than going up stairs, so it's best to cry until Mummy feels sorry for you and carries you down.
10. You always get a treat when you go into the crate.

Grocery Store Chit Chat

Don't you find grocery shopping weird? you put the goods in the cart, to take them out of the cart, have them scanned and then put them in bags and BACK in the cart to take them OUT of the cart again and into your trunk. Can't there be some way of scanning the groceries as they go INTO the cart and you bag them at the same time? then you could keep a running total of your purchase and put stuff back [by Minus Scanning it] if you were over. Alternatively, you could stock up if you were under.

And why do people need help getting to the car? you managed to shlepp those same groceries all through the store, and to the till but suddenly now you can't push the cart [parents with small children are excluded from this rant]

But parents with small children you are not excluded from the next rant - control your kids. They do not need miniature shopping carts. They do not need to 'help' so they won't act out. I neither helped my mother with the groceries nor did I have a small cart of my own to push, and I don't recall ever EVER screaming like a banshee or crying hysterically in the grocery store or GOD HELP ME when we got home. [except for that time mum says I tried to filch a candy bar, but I was like 4 years old] [also mum, if I WAS a bad-ass in the supermarket, now is NOT the time to post it on my blog] [also, I'm not sure what would have happened if I had been bad. I was too afraid to find out. The not knowing was a terrific motivator].

Every deli needs a number system. or else we're all standing around trying to figure out who is next.

I don't need that many mustards to choose from. Thanks.

I don't want to sample anything at the grocery store. Having worked at a grocery store as a cashier many moons ago, they are dirty and most stuff is getting touched by people. Except for the deli were stuff is behind glass. Plus, I did'nt go to the store to eat, I came to shop. Eating comes later when I get home.

Just because you see chips and cookies and pop and pastries in my cart, don't you judge me! Sniff.

This, That, and the Other

Random things on my mind.....
1. My commute is killing me. Sometimes I'm not even sure how I got to work.
2. Why is the new puppy, Lola, stinky? My other dogs don't smell.
3. What if my other dogs do smell but I am immune to it now?
4. What if I smell like dogs?
5. Where does the money go?
6. I really should put away my laundry instead of living out of the laundry basket.
7. I don't know why it took me so long to move that shelf in the fridge. TONS more space now!
8. I really like it when my toes are professionally polished and should have it done more often.
9. 7.30 on Sunday night feels a lot later than 7.30 on a weeknight.
10. Need to prep coffee pot for tomorrow morning.

I have a degree, you know

And my degree is not in basket weaving or acrylic paints. It's in something smarty mcsmarty pants - Math. So I'm not a slouch in the brains department. So WHY is it so hard to change my headlights?

I went out into the garage at 5 o'clock. I had 2 burned out headlights and one burned out signal light. [oh shut up, like you're so perfect. So the left headlight has been dodgy for WEEKS but I thought it was part of my overall electrical problem. and when the left turn signal went, I thought, well hell, the lights on the left side of the car have always been dodgy and did I really need that turn signal? I would get around to it. But then my right headlight went. And I live in Calgary and it gets dark at, like, 4:30, so unless I wanted to leave for work at 9 and then leave for home at 3, I had to change them.]

I had to come back inside to get my socket wrench set. yes, I have one and it's beautiful. I inherited it from Dad. Actually, I inherited all my tools except for my new screwdriver, which is also beautiful. My socket set has all the socket sizes you will ever need. Two wrenches and adapters. but it's not organized because I got it from Dad. And he was not the most organized with his tools. I also got two tool boxes from him and I keep meaning to get around to organizing them, but I guess I inherited more from him than just his nose.

So, long story longer, AN HOUR LATER I've finally changed the headlights. I had to remove 4 bolts from each side, and then turn the light "one sixth of a turn counter clockwise." No Joke. one sixth. and then I had to shimmy it and jiggle it until the light sprung free and then PRY it off the clip and then jam the new one on and my hands aren't strong enough to snap it into place so I had to put gloves on so I could brace the lamp against the car and push down really hard.

I also need to replace the windsheild wipers but I've saving that until I get all the car grease out from underneath my gel nails.

And my story doesn't even compare to the time my bro in law came over to help Jenge change her headlamp. I told Jenge she could do it, but little did I know that her cars design requires you to REMOVE PART OF THE ENGINE to get to the headlight. Luckily my bro in law has the tools and the knowledge to do this, but the simple act of changing a headlight took him 3 hours and left a scar on his hand.

My million dollar idea is to put the headlights in an assembly that doesn't bolt shut. It locks. And it takes the SAME key that starts your engine. So when you need to change any of your lights, you simply pop your hood, or trunk, turn your car key in the assembly and it pops open and then you pull the burned out bulb out [which has turned black so you know it's for sure burned out and not just loose] and you snap the new one back in and then hit the handy "Test" button that the manufacturers have also installed so you don't have to jam the light in, hope it's attached, jog to the driver door get in and start the car to see if your new lights work.

Next car repair, the aforementioned windsheild wipers. I can't see out the passenger side, which really doesn't bother me all that much. but now, I can barely see out the drivers side. I'll keep you posted.

Scraptasticka!

Hey all!
Just thought I'd let you know about an even that my sister Ann is putting on and that I am attending.

It's the MARCH MADNESS CROP taking place in Calgary. Click on the link for full deets. Here's the shorthand:

March 7th 2009 10am - 10pm

Canyon Meadows
Community Center
848 Cantabrian Drive SW, Calgary, AB

EMAIL March Madness Crop

And, as is so important to let most scrappers know, there will be FOOD. And FREE STUFF.

I'll leave a link on the side in case you are interested but can't commit just yet.

Hi!

Hi there! I'm new! I'm pretty sure my name is either Lola, or Lola-Leave-It! It's hard to tell cuz I hear both of them a lot. My name might also be GO POTTY as I hear that A LOT too but I only hear that when I get turfed outside. and it doesn't matter how much you cry or how much you shiver, you have to potty outside. I'm pretty good at it so far and have only had a few accidents. I'm not sure what that means but that's what my new mums, Mummy Jennifer and Mummy Margarita, have said.

I like Portia. I love Rocky. But both of them get up and leave when I get close. I dont' know why. I just want to be friends. Everyone is super friendly at dinner time though. Both mummies stand around me while I eat and Portia and Rocky get super close to me then. I don't know why, but the Mummies always chase them away! I would share my food if they asked! Sometimes when I see Portia, I just roll onto my back and show her my belly. It's a pretty nice belly!

i like to sleep. but I do'nt like to be alone. I'm always looking for a lap to crawl into. Today, Mummy Jennifer put me in my crate when she went out and Mummy Margarita had gone upstairs for a nap. I CRIED AND CRIED AND CRIED. Why would I want to be alone when I KNOW there is a human around? and Rocky and Portia don't even care when I cry! they just keep sleeping. I do'nt know how they can sleep through all the noise. Mummy Margarita said it's enough to "wake the dead." Well, I had to make sure she heard me! I'm so little! and lonely! and I really, really, really needed a lap to sleep in.

So it's pretty good here so far! I've gone on some walks but it gets really cold outside and my belly drags on the snow. Mummy says I'm Low To the Ground. I have some sweaters but I really need a belly cosy. My mum said she'd make one for me.

Gotta go! I see a lap I can nap on!

Mathematical Proof to shop

Let E>0.

Shopping = Makes me happy.

Being out of Debt = Makes me happy.

Therefore: Shopping = Being out of Debt.

Discuss.

New Puppy Lola!

FINISHED!

Well, it took me a year, but I finally finished the Harry Potter scarves. My nephews were quite patient, waiting silently - only asking once or twice. But this xmas, they got their scarves. Each scarf has 19 stripes. Each stripe has 22 rows. and each row has 70 stitches. All knit on size 5 needles. and then there are 11 tassels on each end. And their initials sewn in so that each boy knows which scarf belongs to which boy.

I miss you San Francisco!

I had a great time in San Francisco last week. It was sunny. I wore a sweater and no jacket. I wore high heels.

And the shopping. Sigh. The Shopping.

You know, when it comes to retail, sometimes being Canadian is like being a younger sibling locked out of your big siblings birthday party. You have your face pressed against the window and inside you see lots of grown up things going on. Cake. Ice cream. Shiny wrapping paper. and none of it is for you.
Shopping in the US is like being invited into that party and smashing yourself nose first into the cake and mashing it all into your face and loving it! I saw Macy's! Saks Fifth Ave! Nordstroms! Bloomingdales! Victoria's Secret! Juicy Couture! Betsey Johnson! Bath and Body Works! DSW! [and now I've exceeded my maximum number of exclamation points for this blog].

Of course I was there for training so the days were spent in an office building behind a computer. But at night, Kristen [my partner in Crime] and I shopped! and Shopped. And shopped.
on our last day there, we went to Alcatraz and then the Aquarium of the Bay - which were both awesome. We had crepes for breakfast and soup and a sandwich for lunch. It was a fabulous trip!

A Conversation with Portia

Me: Portia! I can't believe you ate a bag of M&M's and 30 icy squares!
Portia: Whatev's. You left it on the counter.
Me: Don't you learn? You were sick as a... well... dog!
Portia: I see no correlation between eating my weight in chocolate at noon and barfing chunks at 3 am. Two totally separate events.
Me: That's another thing. You threw up in your brother's bed!
Portia: Whatev's. It's not like he was in it at the time.
Me: So not the point, missy.
Portia: Is this going to take long? I have to go out. I ate an entire loaf of bread this afternoon.
Me: Gasp! Sputter! What?
Portia: It was in the Portia zone. I assumed you wanted me to have it.
Me: Bad dog! Very bad dog!
Portia [looking around]: are you talking to me?

This one time, at band camp.......
My sister teaches Grade 2. She has likened her job to crowd control at a large, public event. Although her job and my job rarely have anything in common, after last month's [painfully long, drawn out, not relevant, I-think-I'm-bleeding-from-the-ears-] meeting, I have decided to take a few notes from my sister and hopefully apply them to the next meeting. Before anyone speaks up, they should try to go through the following checklist, which my sister uses for her 8 year olds:

1. Does what you have to say have to do with what we are talking about? If yes, go to the next question. If no, put your hand down and put your listening face back on.

2. Is it a tattle? If no, go to the next question. If yes, I do not listen to tattles.

3. Is a question or a comment? Remember! Questions are: Who, What, Why, When, Where and How? and I know the difference between a question and a comment. So no fooling! If it's a question, proceed to the next item on the list. If not, I'm sure it's very interesting but if we all shared a personal story, we wouldn't get anything done!

4. Has someone else already asked it? Has it already been answered? Several times? Were you paying attention? Had your listening face on? Are you sure?


I think if we follow the above 4 questions, we can cut next meeting time down from 1.5 hrs to 15 minutes. True Story.

The Naked Man in the Room

I really don't understand most art. If I look at something and I think it's pretty, then I like it. If I look at something and I think it's ugly, then I don't. Honestly, I think all Monet paintings look like they got rained on. And don't even get me started on sculptures made from trash.

A few months ago, Chantal offered me a free ticket to One Yellow Rabbit's anniversary at the Jubilee. I figured, hey, why not?

Five minutes after the show started, I was watching a naked man wearing only a pair of red rubber gloves dunk his head into a bucket of water and then yell I AM THE WHALER!!

My eyes darted right and left as I tried to figure this out by surveying the reactions of the people around me: was this supposed to be serious? funny? avant garde?

Everyone started joining in, yelling with him I AM THE WHALER.

I really wasn't sure what to do. I kind of wished I brought my knitting.

Last night, I was pinch hitting for Chantal's band as a back up singer at an artsy person's birthday and suddenly, there he was! NAKED WHALER Guy. I'm sure he has a name. in fact, I'm pretty sure he's well respected and revered in the art community, as he is one of the founding members of One Yellow Rabbit. but to me, he will always be Naked Whaler Guy.

Somehow I doubt that was the impression he was going for.