I found this post in my drafts folder: from nearly two years ago. It's a good remembery, and I realize my mom is right - I need to write all this stuff down. Because I didn't remember this at all, and Ruby is even wackier than Tim was...
~ ~ ~ ~
(July 2013)
Now that we seem to be in the "winter" of the tantrum lifecycle, I'm able to sit back and enjoy some of the zaniness that Four Years Old has to offer.
For example.
Tim is running around with a blanket tied around his neck and flowing over his shoulders and down his back: he is a Superhero. He asks if there is anything I need help with (because Superheroes help people, don't you know.) He helps do a little sweeping, then I ask him what he'd like his Superhero name to be. He pauses to think.
"Kevin," he says, finally.
"What about a real superhero name, you know, like Mighty T or something like that?" I counter.
"No, I want it to be Kevin." And off he flies.
And then, he's rocker dude, sporting a shiny guitar, making up a hardcore tune to "It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring..." And then he decides that the really rock'n'roll thing to do would be to put on some mascara. Only, he can't exactly remember what it's called, so he asks if he can have "those eyelashes that aren't really eyelashes, but go on your eyes?" (Only it's extra cute because he pronounces it "eyelasses".) After some hesitation, I acquiesce, and he's surprisingly calm about holding his eyes still and open while I apply the makeup. Then Tim smiles winningly at me, opens his eyes extra wide and asks:
"Am I beautiful now?" (I assure him that he was already beautiful, before the mascara.)
Showing posts with label tidbits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tidbits. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Friday, January 18, 2013
Obstetrics lesson
Tim: "Why is Lilly picking up Coco from school?"
Me: "Because MamaCé had to go to deliver a baby."
Tim: "Why does she have to deliver a baby?"
Me: "Because she is a midwife."
Tim: "Well, is she going to deliver the baby in a mailbox?"
Me: "...[LOL]..."
Me: "Because MamaCé had to go to deliver a baby."
Tim: "Why does she have to deliver a baby?"
Me: "Because she is a midwife."
Tim: "Well, is she going to deliver the baby in a mailbox?"
Me: "...[LOL]..."
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Neurology lesson
(While cuddling up after a nasty tantrum caused by the sadness of Dad going to work.)
Tim: "You're getting on my nerves."
Me: "You mean, I'm bugging you?"
Tim: "No, you're getting on my happy nerves."
Sigh.
Tim: "You're getting on my nerves."
Me: "You mean, I'm bugging you?"
Tim: "No, you're getting on my happy nerves."
Sigh.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
And it's not even Lent
I'm thinking about maybe reading the Bible.
In my first year of university, one of my English Lit profs -- an stodgy old fart who claimed that English literature went downhill after Alexander Pope -- gave the class a list of all the works that we needed to read if we wanted to consider ourselves true literature academics. The Bible was at the top of that list. (There were also many Greek and Roman philosophers/poets there.)
To be honest, I don't think I did much of the reading for that class (Aristotle, Virgil, Cicero, Homer -- are you kidding me?), let alone the rest of the classics he recommended. I've been a pretty poor student of literature in that way; I've lost track of the Dickens I've abandoned partway through. It occurs to me that that paper I wrote in grad school on Paradise Lost may have been easier to accomplish if I've been more familiar with the reference text...
But ever since I visited Israel (years and years ago), and used the New Testament as a tour guide through Nazareth, Galilee, Jerusalem, and Bethlehem, I've been pretty interested in the historical context of both the event described in the Bible, and the writing of it (the events and the writing being separated by hundreds of years, of course). I figure if I want to learn more about the context (partly so I can argue my case for my agnosticism), I should be familiar with the text itself. Also, it does figure pretty huge in much English literature old and contemporary, so it feeds the geek in me.
So, I've replaced Jack Newman's Guide to Breastfeeding with the New Jerusalem Bible beside the toilet upstairs. I figure that since I managed to scour Dr. Newman's book cover to cover over the past six months just by keeping it by the toilet (and I didn't even have any breastfeeding issues that needed attending to; it was just there), it's a good place to put the Bible to ensure I actually delve into it.
(We also now have a copy of the Tao Te Ching there, for when spiritual needs are more pressing than literary geekiness.)
I'll try to remember to post my progress in this endeavour. If I make any.
In my first year of university, one of my English Lit profs -- an stodgy old fart who claimed that English literature went downhill after Alexander Pope -- gave the class a list of all the works that we needed to read if we wanted to consider ourselves true literature academics. The Bible was at the top of that list. (There were also many Greek and Roman philosophers/poets there.)
To be honest, I don't think I did much of the reading for that class (Aristotle, Virgil, Cicero, Homer -- are you kidding me?), let alone the rest of the classics he recommended. I've been a pretty poor student of literature in that way; I've lost track of the Dickens I've abandoned partway through. It occurs to me that that paper I wrote in grad school on Paradise Lost may have been easier to accomplish if I've been more familiar with the reference text...
But ever since I visited Israel (years and years ago), and used the New Testament as a tour guide through Nazareth, Galilee, Jerusalem, and Bethlehem, I've been pretty interested in the historical context of both the event described in the Bible, and the writing of it (the events and the writing being separated by hundreds of years, of course). I figure if I want to learn more about the context (partly so I can argue my case for my agnosticism), I should be familiar with the text itself. Also, it does figure pretty huge in much English literature old and contemporary, so it feeds the geek in me.
So, I've replaced Jack Newman's Guide to Breastfeeding with the New Jerusalem Bible beside the toilet upstairs. I figure that since I managed to scour Dr. Newman's book cover to cover over the past six months just by keeping it by the toilet (and I didn't even have any breastfeeding issues that needed attending to; it was just there), it's a good place to put the Bible to ensure I actually delve into it.
(We also now have a copy of the Tao Te Ching there, for when spiritual needs are more pressing than literary geekiness.)
I'll try to remember to post my progress in this endeavour. If I make any.
Monday, December 15, 2008
The lost meme
Way back in September, a fun meme went around, and I planned to participate. Upon request, Vicki assigned me the letter M. I actually did try to do it right away, but never finished... I found the rough notes today, and figured I might as well at least post what I had so far. I think there are supposed to be ten things, but whatever.
So, here are some of my favourite things, brought to you by the letter M.
Morning lattés. Ours are particularly special, and we pretty much can't live without them. Old school stovetop espresso maker, freshly ground fair trade beans (these days a half-and-half mix of regular and decaf), whole milk heated on the stove and frothed to a thick creamy foam using an old bodum coffeemaker. A spoonful of honey for sweetness, and a touch of whipping cream when we're feeling decadent (most days). It is a hallowed ritual; we can do nothing in a day before making the coffee, even if we are getting up for a morning run or heading out for a day of frisbee, our morning lattés come first. When we are out of town for a tournament, our morning coffee-making supplies come with us. Every single morning we sing the chorus in unison: "Ssssslurrrrrp... Aaaaahhhh."
Moms. Our "unconventional but not dysfunctional" family is blessed with so many of them! We have birth moms, stepmoms, mothers-in-law, and ex-mothers-in-law, grandmoms, and chances are we've all been in the same room together at some point! I've spent the past few years learning to be a mom, and am now facing the prospect of learning a new way of being one... And I have so many role models in my Circle of Moms to learn from.
McPie. My partner in crime, of course. The perfect partner in general, really (for me specifically, I but can only assume that everyone else in the world is jealous of my luck. ;-) Just this morning, Sweetie McPie recalled our first "date" (it was unofficially one at the time) and said that he knew right then that this "had to happen". He wondered what the reason was that it had to happen. I pointed out the obvious: "Ken, it happened because it was the one way we would get to be ridiculously happy for the rest of our lives. Duh." I didn't actually say duh, though. Because I really really like him a lot.
Munro, Alice. If I had to pick a favourite author, she'd be the one. Some think she's boring, but as a stylist, she's tops. Her writing takes me to a thoughtful, peaceful place; I never tire of reading her words, which I often find compelled to read aloud because they way she puts them together is often so simply striking (or, striking in their wonderful simplicity). I've casually started collecting first editions of her books - a little hobby my mom started for me.
Melted chocolate. When you make brownies the traditional way (i.e.: not from a mix), you have to melt a lot of pure chocolate in a pot, then mix in the eggs, sugar, flour, etc. I have a double boiler that I use for this, and there is a ridge on the inside of the pot that captures an inordinate amount of the melted chocolate that is meant for the brownies. The tip of my finger is the perfect tool for cleaning out the melted chocolate caught in this trap... Only after the brownies are in the oven!
Mowing the lawn. I'm not even kidding. Working part-time through this summer allowed me to be the official lawn-mower of the family, and I did it regularly all summer. (Last year, I think we managed to mow the lawn twice, and the retired neighbour pitched in once when the "Serenghetto" got so wild it became a neightbourhood embarrassement. Which is saying a lot, in our Hull hood.) I loved having an excuse to combine housework, getting out in the sun, and being active. It was so satisfying to make our yard look and feel tidy and inviting. Every time I got out to do it, I was strongly reminded at how lucky I was to have the time off to relax, help out, be outside instead in, and have the quiet (well, "quiet") time to myself.
Mackerel. Our family's fish of choice for the past while. (Other than homemade tuna burgers, it's the only fish we eat at home.) We've found fresh-frozen fillets from the Iles-de-la-Madeleine in our Loblaws, and they are delish. According to Bottomfeeder (which is where we got the idea to look for mackerel), it's an ethically sound fish to eat because it's plentiful, middle of the food chain (ie: not likely to be overfished or carry contaminants), rarely farmed, etc. Also, as a "fatty" fish, it's healthy as all heck, chock full of those omega-oils that make your brain grow and your hair shine. And the fillets take about 5 minutes to cook under the broiler, and melt in your mouth with some orange butter, or just a squeeze of lemon. (And of course, you can't beat pan-fried!)
Masonry. M is a hard letter, ok?! But seriously, old stone architecture and related accoutrements (see Old Quebec City, classic European cities, etc) are eye candy. I can sit in an Italian piazza, or walk the cobbled streets of an ancient city with stone walls rising on either side of me and feel embraced rather than overshadowed. Just putting my hands on the solid stone with some history in it make me imagine that I can absorb the stories the walls might tell.
Two of my favourite things:
(I actually have a picture of McPie on a our stone terrace in Italy cradling a morning latté -- a trifecta of faves -- but he was shirtless in the photo, and sexy as he is, he wouldn't have wanted it posted.)
So, here are some of my favourite things, brought to you by the letter M.
Morning lattés. Ours are particularly special, and we pretty much can't live without them. Old school stovetop espresso maker, freshly ground fair trade beans (these days a half-and-half mix of regular and decaf), whole milk heated on the stove and frothed to a thick creamy foam using an old bodum coffeemaker. A spoonful of honey for sweetness, and a touch of whipping cream when we're feeling decadent (most days). It is a hallowed ritual; we can do nothing in a day before making the coffee, even if we are getting up for a morning run or heading out for a day of frisbee, our morning lattés come first. When we are out of town for a tournament, our morning coffee-making supplies come with us. Every single morning we sing the chorus in unison: "Ssssslurrrrrp... Aaaaahhhh."
Moms. Our "unconventional but not dysfunctional" family is blessed with so many of them! We have birth moms, stepmoms, mothers-in-law, and ex-mothers-in-law, grandmoms, and chances are we've all been in the same room together at some point! I've spent the past few years learning to be a mom, and am now facing the prospect of learning a new way of being one... And I have so many role models in my Circle of Moms to learn from.
McPie. My partner in crime, of course. The perfect partner in general, really (for me specifically, I but can only assume that everyone else in the world is jealous of my luck. ;-) Just this morning, Sweetie McPie recalled our first "date" (it was unofficially one at the time) and said that he knew right then that this "had to happen". He wondered what the reason was that it had to happen. I pointed out the obvious: "Ken, it happened because it was the one way we would get to be ridiculously happy for the rest of our lives. Duh." I didn't actually say duh, though. Because I really really like him a lot.
Munro, Alice. If I had to pick a favourite author, she'd be the one. Some think she's boring, but as a stylist, she's tops. Her writing takes me to a thoughtful, peaceful place; I never tire of reading her words, which I often find compelled to read aloud because they way she puts them together is often so simply striking (or, striking in their wonderful simplicity). I've casually started collecting first editions of her books - a little hobby my mom started for me.
Melted chocolate. When you make brownies the traditional way (i.e.: not from a mix), you have to melt a lot of pure chocolate in a pot, then mix in the eggs, sugar, flour, etc. I have a double boiler that I use for this, and there is a ridge on the inside of the pot that captures an inordinate amount of the melted chocolate that is meant for the brownies. The tip of my finger is the perfect tool for cleaning out the melted chocolate caught in this trap... Only after the brownies are in the oven!
Mowing the lawn. I'm not even kidding. Working part-time through this summer allowed me to be the official lawn-mower of the family, and I did it regularly all summer. (Last year, I think we managed to mow the lawn twice, and the retired neighbour pitched in once when the "Serenghetto" got so wild it became a neightbourhood embarrassement. Which is saying a lot, in our Hull hood.) I loved having an excuse to combine housework, getting out in the sun, and being active. It was so satisfying to make our yard look and feel tidy and inviting. Every time I got out to do it, I was strongly reminded at how lucky I was to have the time off to relax, help out, be outside instead in, and have the quiet (well, "quiet") time to myself.
Mackerel. Our family's fish of choice for the past while. (Other than homemade tuna burgers, it's the only fish we eat at home.) We've found fresh-frozen fillets from the Iles-de-la-Madeleine in our Loblaws, and they are delish. According to Bottomfeeder (which is where we got the idea to look for mackerel), it's an ethically sound fish to eat because it's plentiful, middle of the food chain (ie: not likely to be overfished or carry contaminants), rarely farmed, etc. Also, as a "fatty" fish, it's healthy as all heck, chock full of those omega-oils that make your brain grow and your hair shine. And the fillets take about 5 minutes to cook under the broiler, and melt in your mouth with some orange butter, or just a squeeze of lemon. (And of course, you can't beat pan-fried!)
Masonry. M is a hard letter, ok?! But seriously, old stone architecture and related accoutrements (see Old Quebec City, classic European cities, etc) are eye candy. I can sit in an Italian piazza, or walk the cobbled streets of an ancient city with stone walls rising on either side of me and feel embraced rather than overshadowed. Just putting my hands on the solid stone with some history in it make me imagine that I can absorb the stories the walls might tell.
Two of my favourite things:
(I actually have a picture of McPie on a our stone terrace in Italy cradling a morning latté -- a trifecta of faves -- but he was shirtless in the photo, and sexy as he is, he wouldn't have wanted it posted.)
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Speaking of food
I wasn't, actually, but I've been thinking a lot about it (and also eating regularly, go figure), and will eventually proselytize about it. As I tend to do.
(I hear you Trixie: "Save me now!")
But in the meantime, here is a quick-and-dirty (and very interesting) article on conscientious seafood eating. I'm starting to hate "what to eat" guides, but reading this made me think it would help me in the grocery store, rather than make my head hurt.
The book mentioned in the article, Bottomfeeder: How to Eat Ethically in a World of Vanishing Seafood, was also reviewed in this past Saturday's Books section of the Globe and Mail. I think. I didn't actually read it (but my Saturday paper lasts all week, so guess what I'll be looking up tonight?)
And, if you're still reading, here is a bit more: in the NY Times.
Link-happy today, or what?
(I hear you Trixie: "Save me now!")
But in the meantime, here is a quick-and-dirty (and very interesting) article on conscientious seafood eating. I'm starting to hate "what to eat" guides, but reading this made me think it would help me in the grocery store, rather than make my head hurt.
The book mentioned in the article, Bottomfeeder: How to Eat Ethically in a World of Vanishing Seafood, was also reviewed in this past Saturday's Books section of the Globe and Mail. I think. I didn't actually read it (but my Saturday paper lasts all week, so guess what I'll be looking up tonight?)
And, if you're still reading, here is a bit more: in the NY Times.
Link-happy today, or what?
Friday, April 18, 2008
Practical translation
I am hosting our Book Club meeting tonight. We have been reading Their Eyes Were Watching God -- a most excellent book. Book Club is always a potluck... in fact, it's really mostly a potluck -- we usually have a hard time getting around to the book. Possibly needless to say, we are also a bunch of geeks, and so try to be thematic in our cooking.
Last night, after finishing work, going for a run, getting groceries, making and eating naan bread pizza (while watching Buffy, natch), I set about making jambalaya for Book Club. (Wrong side of the Gulf, I know, but from this side of the 49th, southern is southern.)
McPie's observation about my choice of dish: "'Jambalaya': Spanish for will never get to bed."
Last night, after finishing work, going for a run, getting groceries, making and eating naan bread pizza (while watching Buffy, natch), I set about making jambalaya for Book Club. (Wrong side of the Gulf, I know, but from this side of the 49th, southern is southern.)
McPie's observation about my choice of dish: "'Jambalaya': Spanish for will never get to bed."
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Vanity muscle
Amongst ourselves, we eschew and mock the bicep curl. (Isolating that muscle isn't going to make you faster or stronger; and and yet it's the move of choice for oh so many meatheads.)
Thus we end up with me laughing embarrassingly aloud in my cubicle, reading my email:
McPie: Today at the gym I saw a guy blow out his hair product on a massive bicep curl.
G: Bicep curl guy is going to be able to answer some serious phones.
Thus we end up with me laughing embarrassingly aloud in my cubicle, reading my email:
McPie: Today at the gym I saw a guy blow out his hair product on a massive bicep curl.
G: Bicep curl guy is going to be able to answer some serious phones.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Considerate enough not to wake me up, too
After a busy and tiring weekend, McPie had some insomnia last night. This morning's email:
"I am going to get a third coffee, black, and pour it directly into my eyes."
"I am going to get a third coffee, black, and pour it directly into my eyes."
Thursday, February 14, 2008
dashboard warning
In true tech writer fashion, I am repurposing content today.
Received in an email, this observation from G:
"When my dashboard warning light 'Check Gages' lights up, I am not really alarmed about what I might be running low on; my gut reaction is to be alarmed about the English language."
Received in an email, this observation from G:
"When my dashboard warning light 'Check Gages' lights up, I am not really alarmed about what I might be running low on; my gut reaction is to be alarmed about the English language."
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Taste tested
Last week at work, I went to the kitchen to retrieve my yogurt from the fridge. I stopped to grab a plastic spoon from the drawer -- my company provides disposable forks, spoons, and knives in each kitchen for the convenience of employees. (I have knives from home at my desk -- for cutting sandwiches and cheese of course! -- but awhile ago I lost my spoon, so I tend to grab a disposable when I need one, and use it for a few days.)
I noticed that the plastic spoons in the drawer were different than usual; they had a slightly different texture, colour and shape. Back at my desk eating my yogurt, I noticed the following text on the handle of the spoon, in slightly raised letters: Biocompostable www.worldcentric.org
Obviously, I immediately opened the web site in my browser to find out more about the provenance of my spoon.
Turns out, my spoon is made from 100% non-GMO corn starch. It is compostable and biodegradable. (Those are not synonymous.) Wow. Who knew there was such a thing? My reaction was predictable.
I took a bite of my spoon.
It was... very chewy. But, it didn't taste like plastic. It didn't really taste like anything. (Ultimately, I chose to spit, not swallow.) The smell was decidedly starchy; again, definitely not plasticky.
My first thought was "cool! A product that solves the problem of all the waste of disposables! And my company is thoughtful enough to support it." I thought it surprising that the facilities dept hadn't even announced such a neat-o move.
But my next thought was that it was kinda... strange? ironic? that the solution to the problem of waste from disposables was to create another disposable product.
I brought a metal spoon from home the next day, to keep in my drawer.
* * * * *
Admittedly, the worldcentric.org site is pretty swell, and provides fair trade and less-environmentally-impactful consumer goods (since we gotta have our consumables!), and it provides many resources for supporting a general public re-think of consuming. Furthermore, they do note the following on their main biocompostables page:
I noticed that the plastic spoons in the drawer were different than usual; they had a slightly different texture, colour and shape. Back at my desk eating my yogurt, I noticed the following text on the handle of the spoon, in slightly raised letters: Biocompostable www.worldcentric.org
Obviously, I immediately opened the web site in my browser to find out more about the provenance of my spoon.
Turns out, my spoon is made from 100% non-GMO corn starch. It is compostable and biodegradable. (Those are not synonymous.) Wow. Who knew there was such a thing? My reaction was predictable.
I took a bite of my spoon.
It was... very chewy. But, it didn't taste like plastic. It didn't really taste like anything. (Ultimately, I chose to spit, not swallow.) The smell was decidedly starchy; again, definitely not plasticky.My first thought was "cool! A product that solves the problem of all the waste of disposables! And my company is thoughtful enough to support it." I thought it surprising that the facilities dept hadn't even announced such a neat-o move.
But my next thought was that it was kinda... strange? ironic? that the solution to the problem of waste from disposables was to create another disposable product.
I brought a metal spoon from home the next day, to keep in my drawer.
* * * * *
Admittedly, the worldcentric.org site is pretty swell, and provides fair trade and less-environmentally-impactful consumer goods (since we gotta have our consumables!), and it provides many resources for supporting a general public re-think of consuming. Furthermore, they do note the following on their main biocompostables page:
We like to point out that, though using biocompostables is a step towards better environmental sustainability, it is not a solution to our throw-away culture. The use of biocompostables disposables does not in any way discourage use or change the mind-set of using disposable products. Furthermore, even biocompostables (specially bioplastics) may take a long time to biodegrade in landfills.
Friday, December 14, 2007
'Tis the season
Tonight is McPie's office fancy schmancy Christmas shindig.
We're all set: I got shiny new undergarments to "uplift" a resurrected li'l black dress, and painted my toenails red. Picked out a smashing tie for McPie's new shirt, which, incidentally, matches my toenails. Kids will be ensconced for the night Chez Mamans.
I'm looking forward to the party. I totally suck at small talk, but I'm great at steak.
We're all set: I got shiny new undergarments to "uplift" a resurrected li'l black dress, and painted my toenails red. Picked out a smashing tie for McPie's new shirt, which, incidentally, matches my toenails. Kids will be ensconced for the night Chez Mamans.
I'm looking forward to the party. I totally suck at small talk, but I'm great at steak.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
And for something a little lighter
Today, Sweetie McPie explores the intricacies of nutmeat.
Pecans vs. Walnuts
Pecans: tiny bike helmets for the Alien
Walnuts: emaciated Thanksgiving turkeys
Pecans: brain
Walnuts: big Einstein brain
Pecans: have PEE in the name
Walnuts: have NUTS in the name
Pecans: french - Pecan
Walnuts: french - Grenoble
Pecans: topographically like the Shield near Lake Superior
Walnuts: topographically unlike anything I have hiked on
Pecans: could be disguised almonds
Walnuts: didn't dress up for Hallowe'en
Pecans: the Phantom
Walnuts: the Elephant Man
Pecans: in terms of scrotum reaction - cold lake
Walnuts: in terms of scrotum reaction - hot, humid day
Pecans vs. Walnuts
Pecans: tiny bike helmets for the Alien
Walnuts: emaciated Thanksgiving turkeys
Pecans: brain
Walnuts: big Einstein brain
Pecans: have PEE in the name
Walnuts: have NUTS in the name
Pecans: french - Pecan
Walnuts: french - Grenoble
Pecans: topographically like the Shield near Lake Superior
Walnuts: topographically unlike anything I have hiked on
Pecans: could be disguised almonds
Walnuts: didn't dress up for Hallowe'en
Pecans: the Phantom
Walnuts: the Elephant Man
Pecans: in terms of scrotum reaction - cold lake
Walnuts: in terms of scrotum reaction - hot, humid day
Friday, April 13, 2007
Dear 10th floor kitchen nazi
I GET IT, OKAY?
I get that it's not cool to leave dishes in the sink. But I have one bowl, I use it for oatmeal every day, and it NEEDS TO SOAK for at least seven consecutive minutes in the sink or I can't get it clean. And if you keep taking it out of the sink before it's soaked, I will keep putting it back in the sink until I can get the oatmeal off without having to scratch for 5 minutes with my fingernails. (I don't get how it's better to have a dirty bowl with disgusting dried oatmeal crusties sitting on the side of the sink.) Please, just let me soak the damn thing for a couple of hours, and then I will remove it from the kitchen altogether.
****
Update on Canada's Universal Medicare situation:
Although a bit dog-eared, apparently it still exists. My Ontario doctor does accept Quebec healthcards. And the folks at the Régie du French Medical Stuff are very nice; they explained everything very clearly, and didn't make me join the FLQ or even speak French.
But the process will take weeks, and I will have to pay cash if I want to get a referral for physiotherapy in time for get me fixed for Frisbee season... Luckily, my injury stops hurting once I get warmed up. I'm certain that's a good sign.
****
Birthdays apparently roam in packs.
January and April are the big birthday months in my circle. In January, there's Trixie and her fella, and the Taller Funner Sister. Today, I woke my Mom out of a deep slumber to wish her a happy 57. It's also Vicki's big day today. Hi Vicki! Sorry about the coworker singing. I'da warned you, but Lori's eyes and ears are everywhere...
And since this is all about me, I'll point out that exactly 32 years ago today, Mom spent her birthday as big as a whale and about to head to the hospital so they could "cut the f***er out!" (F***er=moi. I was late, as usual. And also stubborn.)
Turns out that Leonardo da Vinci shares his special day with someone really important and also self-absorbed. My plans for Sunday involves champagne and chocolate truffles. And enjoying family time (and birthday cake? There'll be cake right? In addition to the truffles?) And possibly even getting out of bed. But I'll play that one by ear.
****
Green Gable - no progress. None. I've been busy with the Constant Princess. The constantly boring me out of my skull, I can't wait to get this book club meeting over with so I can chuck her out the window Princess.
I get that it's not cool to leave dishes in the sink. But I have one bowl, I use it for oatmeal every day, and it NEEDS TO SOAK for at least seven consecutive minutes in the sink or I can't get it clean. And if you keep taking it out of the sink before it's soaked, I will keep putting it back in the sink until I can get the oatmeal off without having to scratch for 5 minutes with my fingernails. (I don't get how it's better to have a dirty bowl with disgusting dried oatmeal crusties sitting on the side of the sink.) Please, just let me soak the damn thing for a couple of hours, and then I will remove it from the kitchen altogether.
****
Update on Canada's Universal Medicare situation:
Although a bit dog-eared, apparently it still exists. My Ontario doctor does accept Quebec healthcards. And the folks at the Régie du French Medical Stuff are very nice; they explained everything very clearly, and didn't make me join the FLQ or even speak French.
But the process will take weeks, and I will have to pay cash if I want to get a referral for physiotherapy in time for get me fixed for Frisbee season... Luckily, my injury stops hurting once I get warmed up. I'm certain that's a good sign.
****
Birthdays apparently roam in packs.
January and April are the big birthday months in my circle. In January, there's Trixie and her fella, and the Taller Funner Sister. Today, I woke my Mom out of a deep slumber to wish her a happy 57. It's also Vicki's big day today. Hi Vicki! Sorry about the coworker singing. I'da warned you, but Lori's eyes and ears are everywhere...
And since this is all about me, I'll point out that exactly 32 years ago today, Mom spent her birthday as big as a whale and about to head to the hospital so they could "cut the f***er out!" (F***er=moi. I was late, as usual. And also stubborn.)
Turns out that Leonardo da Vinci shares his special day with someone really important and also self-absorbed. My plans for Sunday involves champagne and chocolate truffles. And enjoying family time (and birthday cake? There'll be cake right? In addition to the truffles?) And possibly even getting out of bed. But I'll play that one by ear.
****
Green Gable - no progress. None. I've been busy with the Constant Princess. The constantly boring me out of my skull, I can't wait to get this book club meeting over with so I can chuck her out the window Princess.
Friday, March 30, 2007
One of those weeks
Glass half full
My boss at our one-on-one today: "TGIFF."
Glass half empty
Plaintive wail heard escaping from the within the Ford Focus this morning:
"Adobe Tower, stop eating my girlfriend!"
My boss at our one-on-one today: "TGIFF."
Glass half empty
Plaintive wail heard escaping from the within the Ford Focus this morning:
"Adobe Tower, stop eating my girlfriend!"
Friday, March 23, 2007
I should've gone to Girly School****
I would have learned that it is a bad idea to carry only a makeup case* and a glasses case in my backpack when jogging home from work. The jostling! Oh, the jostling. With no lunchkit**, gym clothes, books, or shoes to fill up the space (these things are all too heavy to carry on the 6 km run), the makeup gets jostled all the way out of it's little plastic cases. It forms a uniform, slightly greasy, quarter inch thick coating of brown powder on every article within the case, and completely saturates the lining of the case itself.
I discovered the repercussions of my decidedly unGirly inattention to my toiletries the morning after the fateful jog. I managed to salvage the mascara, concealer and tweezer (really, did I need anything else?) and chucked the rest in the garbage.
Where does one acquire a makeup case? Do I really have to spend money at Clinique to get a "free" one?
* Okay, so my "makeup case" was an Air Canada-issue masculine toiletry case inherited from Ben, who had received it from McPie's mother's boyfriend (presumably for Ben's use as a toy). And this was an improvement on the snack-sized ziplock bags I'd been previously be using (cycling through) as my makeup case. I maybe would have flunked Girly School.
** Yes, I have a lunchkit! It's pink with flowers and Sweetie McPie puts a homemade lunch in it for me every morning. And yes, people at work make fun of me for it even though I keep it in my locker***. So there - I'd have at least passed Kitsch Class at Girly School.
*** YES! We have lockers at work. In our cubes. They're actually pretty handy.
**** Alternative title: "I am so lame."
I discovered the repercussions of my decidedly unGirly inattention to my toiletries the morning after the fateful jog. I managed to salvage the mascara, concealer and tweezer (really, did I need anything else?) and chucked the rest in the garbage.
Where does one acquire a makeup case? Do I really have to spend money at Clinique to get a "free" one?
* Okay, so my "makeup case" was an Air Canada-issue masculine toiletry case inherited from Ben, who had received it from McPie's mother's boyfriend (presumably for Ben's use as a toy). And this was an improvement on the snack-sized ziplock bags I'd been previously be using (cycling through) as my makeup case. I maybe would have flunked Girly School.
** Yes, I have a lunchkit! It's pink with flowers and Sweetie McPie puts a homemade lunch in it for me every morning. And yes, people at work make fun of me for it even though I keep it in my locker***. So there - I'd have at least passed Kitsch Class at Girly School.
*** YES! We have lockers at work. In our cubes. They're actually pretty handy.
**** Alternative title: "I am so lame."
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