Once in a blue moon

It's 10:30 a.m. on a Monday and I'm still wearing my pajamas. Ideally, I'd be dressed and outside enjoying the sun, but the drizzly day isn't really offering a warm invitation. Still, I am going to do my best to get something out of this last day of the long weekend. The next official one isn't until August...

My long weekend got a jump start on Thursday. I had planned to drive down to Grand Forks after work on Friday to meet up with my mom and dad, who were camping in the area that week. Amara knew of my plans and got the itch for a cross-border shopping trip. Then she came up with a brilliant plan: book Friday off and drive down that morning. She and Christian would only stay for the day, but I could hitch a ride with them and meet up with my parents in time for the races.

I had one project that was a small fire on my desk and needed wrapping up. I figured as long as I could get that taken care of I'd be good to go. Before heading out at lunch to buy some American money it was still simmering, but I was keeping my hopes up things would turn around.

When I got back, it still wasn't looking good that this thing was going to go away before the end of the day. Worse, I got a phone call from someone asking me for files dating back to 2004, and oh yeah, she needed them for Tuesday. My heart sank. I was due to meet with my bosses, Head One and Head Two, in half an hour to go over the projects I had on the go. If I told them about this new one, there was no way they'd let me take off for an extra long weekend.

But Head One took it all very well, made it look like not such a big deal at all, and said not to worry about it. She drives me crazy sometimes (I am actually listening to the Fine Young Cannibals right now) but there are days I feel pretty lucky. Head Two asked me to pick up some Excedrin for her, which I think might be illegal to bring back, but hey, she was letting me go, so I wasn't about to say no.

I stayed a bit later to clean up my desk a bit and make sure everything was in order in case someone needed one of my files on Friday. I also had the small matter of canceling a conference call with some good people in Vancouver. The agenda for our last call went something like this (points 1 and 5 are the only ones I remember the exact words of, the rest isn't important):

1. Talk about how awesome Jill is :)
2. blah blah, websites
3. blah blah, going live
4. blah blah discuss process going forward
5. Revisit point number one

I'm the main contact for this website developer company we're working with and I guess I've done a lot of work for them getting approvals on stuff. I do enjoy client services work, but once in a while when I get to play the client and have all my whims catered to and ego stroked, well, it's quite a nice change. I was understandably a little sad to have to reschedule on them.

I originally e-mailed Bart and Todd to let them know something had come up and I'd need to reschedule, but when I finally got a reply back from Bart around 3:45 I decided to give him a call.

"Hey, how'd you get Winnipeg Transit to hold the bus for you?" he joked, obviously noticing that I was at my desk past my normal quiting time. Last time he tried to schedule a meeting at the end of the day and I told him I didn't have enough authority to make the buses wait around for me.

"Y'know I've been working on getting them to wait for you," he added.

"Aw, that's very kind of you," I may have giggled.

"Anything to help make your life easier, Jill." I could hear him smiling, and I wondered if he could hear me twirling my hair around my finger. You see? This is why it is much safer for me to be the service provider, and not the client. I think I'd just be trouble otherwise. . .

I asked him what his plans were for the long weekend (we did talk business somewhere in there, but you don't really care to read that, I know).

"I think I'm going skiing,"

"Oh, weird!" I couldn't help but think of how odd it seemed to me, a true prairie girl, to be doing a winter sport on what was supposed to be the weekend to kick-off summer.

"Yeah, well, mostly it will probably be about stashing some beers in the snow," he admitted.

I told him of my plans, and then we promised to swap stories on Wednesday during the call. I hurried outside into the sunshine. Maybe Bart did manage to pull some strings for me with the transit service; there was a bus waiting for me as soon as I got to the corner.

On Friday morning Christian and Amara picked me up shortly after 8 a.m. and we made our run for the border. Amara and I were incredibly, poor Christian was less so. What a good sport he is though. How many guys would drive their wives and friend to the mall for an afternoon of shopping? How many of them would drive TWO HOURS for an afternoon of shopping?

Highlights of the shopping include blue jeans, big box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch for $3.50, and Beer. It was good to get away. I even had the opportunity to go online and check e-mails but I didn't, and I held out for a long while when I got home before I logged on again.



Pictures here

All this and she can write captions too!

Argh, I've been procrastinating on blogging for too long and now I'm forgetting details.

My contact at the Red Shoe House asked me to help out at the fundraiser fashion show last week. She wanted someone to work with the photographer--taking down names for captions--and write the article for the next newsletter.

The day of the event she introduced me and the photographer to each other by an e-mail. His name was Doug. I crossed my fingers that he was Hot-Single-Photographer Doug. He was not, but he was still a lot of fun to hang out with for the night and kept me laughing. I added a lot to my experience as a photographer's assistant--following someone around, taking down names with attention to spelling, and not complaining about the angry pangs of hunger in your stomach because you haven't had a bite to eat since that salad at 11 am. Seriously, Doug, you'd work with me again, right?

When Doug and I were chatting before the event he asked what I do for fun. The first thing that came to mind was, "I'm a blogger". It was weird, I've never identified myself that way before, never mind to someone I had just met. Funny though, it's still easier for me to say that than, "I'm a writer".

I did get to take home a gift bag, that, much to my delight, included a package of McDonald Land cookies and many other fun freebies.

Picture by Doug Little. I forgot to get these guys' names, and phone numbers...

Luck be a lady

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned somewhere on here before that I think the 5th of the month is generally my lucky day. If anything, it's something to look forward to every month, and maybe if something outright serendipitous doesn't happen on (or around, I accept that fate is not a science) that day, it's a good time to reflect on why, in the grand scheme of things, I think I'm a lucky girl.

I woke up this Monday morning, and as I am apt to do lately I checked myself for itchy spots. I never used to feel strongly about any particular day of the week, but I now hate Mondays because Mondays are meetings days. So every Sunday before I go to bed I pray that I will wake up with Chicken Pox. Since I had Chicken Pox when I was a kid, it would be nothing short of a miracle to get them again. On a Monday, no less. No such luck today. Maybe next week.

On the fortunate side though, one of my meetings was cancelled and another one cut short.

Vince checked in on me this afternoon to see how my luck was going. I didn't have much to report, which was disappointing because I am sure he thinks this whole idea is just crazy talk, but he's nice enough to humour me.

I tried to make the early bus home today, but again, no such luck.

When I did get home, I checked my mailbox (the one outside my door, not the one online) and laughed. I got a take-out menu for Lucky Kai Chinese Food. There was also something for the previous owner from National Geographic, and what I presumed to be my property tax bill.

I opened the bill. First I thought I owed some exorbitant amount, but then I read more and learned that my taxes are actually going down this year by $10/month. Yay! Lucky me!

I barbecued tuna steaks for my dinner and tomorrow's lunch. I had frozen tuna (because that's what we eat here at The Little House on The Prairie, dear friends on the west coast). I had never cooked tuna before so I looked for some advice on the Internet. One site (and honestly the only site I really consulted) told me to sear both sides for a minute on a really hot grill. So that's what I did. The inside was pretty much uncooked, which I know is how it comes out on the plate at a restaurant, but I wasn't so sure that was a good thing for a previously frozen piece of seafood that had just spent the last hour thawing on my counter. But I ate it anyway, and lucky me, I'm still alive and not suffering from any kind of terrible stomach rebellion.

I was able to watch some TV tonight. Fortunately, after a three-week, hockey-induced hiatus, The Hour was back on with a new episode (unfortunately for George, his favourite team, the Habs, were eliminated from the play offs this weekend).

My dad came over and while I washed dishes and tidied my house, he raked my back yard. I know, that's not lucky so much as spoiled, but I do feel very fortunate to have a good relationship with my father and a nice, clean back yard as a result of it.

While cleaning, the phone rang. It was my sister calling to say that she put an offer in on a house today and was accepted. I feel that some of my luck was transferred to her, and I am okay with that. I asked her what she ended up paying.

"One eighty-one," she said.

"Ah, lucky number," I said, smiling. '81 was the year I was born.

"Did you tell mom and dad yet?"

"No, you were the first person I called."

I can't say that I cried, but I nearly did. I wanted to. I was touched. I'm lucky to have her for a sister. We're good together.

Tonight, because it was Monday, and because I was not suffering from Chicken Pox nor food poisoning, was The Hills night. After she got off work, Tracy came by to watch the show with me and to celebrate. I had a bottle of red wine waiting. The appropriateness of the label didn't even register with me right away.

"Bin 555," I said. "How perfect."

At the end of the night, Tracy some how knocked her glass off the table. It fell to the floor and bounced. Not a crack or a chip. A Cinco de Mayo miracle.

Cheers. Drink up.

Friday was a flurry of fun. At the last minute I found myself with a ticket to the Winnipeg Wine Festival. The evening had a very fun throwback to high school kind of feel. I got a ride to Amara's house and found her putting the finishing touches of her make-up on, with the radio blaring Flo Rida. We discussed shoes and Veronica Mars. Amara's husband, Christian, was picking up their friends, Gwen and Chad. Once all together, we walked down to the corner of the street and waited for the bus to pick us up.

We sat at the back. I was on the very back bench and despite my cute, 1 1/2" black, open-toed heels, my feet didn't quite reach the floor. Later in the evening they would be blistered, sore and tired, but while having so much fun, it was like they didn't touch the ground the whole night.

The festival is the second largest of its kind in Canada. This year it featured over 585 wines from over 115 wineries. Inside, it was nothing glamorous to look at, but I literally wanted to drink it all in. I had no strategy. My first sip was a rookie mistake--I tried a sparkling white that hadn't had a chance to chill yet. From there I hopped around from booth to booth, sometimes following the lead of my friends, sometimes just sampling on a whim. I favoured the reds but when I wanted a change I would throw in a chardonnay or a Riesling. And when my tongue was feeling overwhelmed I visited the bread station. I think it only took 90 minutes before my head was swimming.

Jill: Look! That one is called Trius (pronounced try-us, according to Jill), it's practically an invitation!

Amara: I think that's supposed to be Tree-us.

Nope, I'm sure it's try-us. And I think I will!

It was fun, probably some of the best fun I'd had in a good long time.

In the right mind to say wrong things

Well. Here we be. I just got home. I was out with Amara and Christian and their friends Gwen and Chad at the Wine Festival. I was very excited to be there. I was very excited to try everything. I had three hours. I lost count. I took notes in my pocket sized notebook.

A tingle I have not felt since my last root canal

Yes, it was a good time! I got my 50 dollars worth and I don't care to see a Shiraz or Chardonnay for some time. Don't ask me for recommendations.

Bon nuit!

At least it got cancelled before it jumped the shark

I am going to tell you now, the Gus from the Bus show has been cancelled. Why? Who knows. Ratings seemed good, but the big boss guy put the kibosh on it. After Lauren and Gus figured out how old I was, they seemed to lose interest in me as a project.

Since then, Lauren and I have continued to share laughs at the bus stop and even on the bus. Also, last week Lauren and Gus moved into the seat behind me when it opened up and Gus said to the back of my head, "we have to get Jill out of her shell". I turned around and joined the conversation. Lauren still reports things to Gus and they still do a lousy job of covering that up. When I got off the bus, Gus told me to "go cross those t's and make things pretty". It's okay, I laughed.

That's about it. I don't make these little adventures up. If I did, I would have given this one a much more interesting close. Stay tuned for the next one!

The Jill brand: charming, engaging and darn lucky

I decided today to register my domain name, www.ajillstory.com. Before setting it up, I did some research, including Googling "ajillstory". I happened upon a thesis paper someone wrote that cited my blog as an example in her discussion on women's diaries and weblogs. I was immediately intrigued.

The Arts grad student described me as a young woman who writes about my adventures in embarking on a career, buying Truck, looking for my house and avoiding jury duty (Beattie 70). She gathers that most of my readers are likely the same friends I often write about, but my "charm and engaging writing style make my [her] blog enjoyable even for complete strangers" (Beattie).

You hear that? Charming and engaging. As I walked home in the rain from the store, these words put a warm and fuzzy tingle in my heart. I kind of needed that today.

Back at home, I pulled out my barbecue with plans of cooking a hamburger for supper. Dad and I put the thing together two weeks ago and I used it for the first time yesterday to grill a pork chop.

It's tricky to light. I had to give it a few tries last night before it got going. Tonight it was later by the time I got started, and despite the endorphins floating around in my blood from the flattering review, I was not feeling very patient to play around with getting the thing lit. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and stick a lighter in the side.

It worked. Perfectly. I heard a whoosh and then a crackle. Crackle? Yes, crackle. It took maybe a second for me to realize the whoosh was from the grill, but the crackle was from me--I had singed my hair!

I ran inside to check the damages. My bangs on the right side had been touched along with my eyelashes. Oh dear. Oh my. Thankfully, my hair is a bit long right now and my hair style a bit ragged, so I cut off the damaged ends without making it look noticeable. I'm not sure about my eyelashes though. I'm hoping if I wear mascara nobody will see the difference. I still have eyelashes, they're just a bit shorter, blunt, and white on the ends. Thank God my contact didn't melt to my eyeball or something.

Charming indeed. Sometimes I have moments of brilliance, and sometimes I just have moments. I promise you, faithful readers (and I appreciate you all) life at ajillstory is never dull.