Rob was the first friend who got to see and ride in my truck. He was at home and not doing anything so I decided to go pick him up. We got into the truck and then had no idea where to go. I started going north down Kenaston. I don't know really where we would have ended up if it weren't for Rob suggesting Lindsay's house, which he had never been to before.
Rob has been there for a lot of my firsts since I met him in high school. When I got my driver's licence he was my first friend passenger. It seemed perfect that he was my first friend in the passenger seat of my first vehicle too. Nickelback was in town this weekend which reminded me that Rob took me for a birthday present to see them play at the old Winnipeg Arena. It was my first big concert.
Rob is a good first guy. He won't take anything away from your moment. He'll let you enjoy the newness of it all even though he's usually experienced it before.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Truck Pictures!
On Saturday, January 28, 2006 I picked up my truck to take it home, finally. The whole family came out to greet the newest member of the driveway. I felt comfortable in it immediately and was surprised at how easily I adjusted to driving it. I thought for sure there would be a learning curve. The snow brush and floor mats I received for my birthday are making themselves very useful. I can hardly wait for the first trip out to the beach!
Monday, January 23, 2006
Wish It. Dream It. Do It.
On Friday, January 20, 2006 after 100 days of waiting patiently, the dealership called me to tell me that my truck had come in. I was excited and nervous all at once. They wanted me to come in on Saturday to see it and take it for a drive. It wouldn't be ready yet to take home, as they still needed to attach the fender flares and I would have to make a decision about the box liner. My dad took me out to the dealership on Saturday morning for 10:30. When we pulled up there were two trucks like mine parked outside, but neither one was mine. They told me mine would be in the showroom, which actually it wasn't, but it was inside at least--safe from the cold and snow. There was a big green bow on it. It really is a beautiful colour and I am very happy with the grey interior. It felt strange to know that it was mine and everything about it was there because I chose it to be. I didn't settle for anything less than what I wanted. Well okay, maybe the leather seats would have been nice, but it really didn't hurt that I passed them up. The engine is all shiny and clean. The interior has never seen a dog hair. Judy (my dealership rep) said I suited the truck; it was a good choice. It's true though. I never could see myself in anything else. Dad took pictures but I want to take more once the fender flares are on. I didn't take it for a drive though. The roads were very slippery and it seemed sad to me that I would only have to turn it back in after. I hugged the steering wheel and told it that I would be back later to bring it home. For now all I have are two key remotes to show for my $30,000 (okay, technically my $8,000 and GMAC's $22,000; those aren't exact figures, I kinda forget what the total was, but it's no more than 30). Oh yeah, and I booked my first oil change in April.
Later on Saturday, I was shopping with my mom and on our way out we decided to stop in Bowering’s. First, I was drawn to the display of a potpourri I have fallen in love with. I can't quite remember the name of it now but it smells like an orange creamcicle. I went against my rules and decided to get it, even though it wasn't on sale. Then I saw a decorative sign that read, Wish It. Dream It. Do It. I grabbed it off the wall, checked the price, and then decided that I had to have it also. It sums up exactly what I live by (like how I came to buy my truck). I took the sign to work today and hung it up in my cube, right above my computer. I have collected a few motivational quotes (Starbucks now prints them on their coffee cups!), typed them up, printed them out, and tacked them to my walls but this one is my favourite.
Later on Saturday, I was shopping with my mom and on our way out we decided to stop in Bowering’s. First, I was drawn to the display of a potpourri I have fallen in love with. I can't quite remember the name of it now but it smells like an orange creamcicle. I went against my rules and decided to get it, even though it wasn't on sale. Then I saw a decorative sign that read, Wish It. Dream It. Do It. I grabbed it off the wall, checked the price, and then decided that I had to have it also. It sums up exactly what I live by (like how I came to buy my truck). I took the sign to work today and hung it up in my cube, right above my computer. I have collected a few motivational quotes (Starbucks now prints them on their coffee cups!), typed them up, printed them out, and tacked them to my walls but this one is my favourite.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Hip Hop to it
So I went to my first hip hop class today. Had no idea what to expect and no idea what to wear (more importantly). So I went with my Pilates outfit and didn't really think about my feet (bizarre for me, I know). Well the first thing I notice when I get there is that everyone is wearing runners while I have decided to go with bare feet. That's one dork point for me and we haven't even started dancing yet. I try to tell myself that real dancers go bare all the time. I kick ass in the warm up because it's all stretching and I'm pretty flexible. Good, I think. Maybe they'll think I have some kind of background and I've always danced in bare feet. But then we start actually moving (still warming up mind you) and we do that stupid cross step. I have never been good at the cross step. It has prevented me from ever setting foot in an aerobics class. It seems that I have no problem moving to the left, but if I have to go back to the right, I tend to get tangled up. Add another dork point to my tally.
At this point you are probably wondering why on earth I would sign up for a dance class if I already know that I lack the coordination to even master aerobics. Well ever since I was in grade school I've had a yearning to dance. I remember watching my friends' dance recitals in awe. There's music (+), Flashy costumes (+/-) and perhaps most importantly, a special kind of footwear (+++). My love for shoes is not limited to just streetwear. So why didn't I take up dance as a kid? My mom put me in gymnastics when I was around six. My natural flexibility was an advantage to me and I could do summersaults like nobody's business. I was pretty strong on the beam too. I couldn't do the vault though. I think I lacked the upper body strength and I had a hard time getting the footwork right so that I could hit the springboard properly. I was held back in level two twice before I gave up. So I guess after that neither my mom nor I were that anxious to sign up for dancing. I also had a thing for figure skating that was never realized. I had two more somewhat failed attempts at dance later in life when I tried out for the cheerleading team in grade 10 and when I took a swing dance class in '99. In both cases I actually did not bad, but it was the instructors that turned me off.
So again, why did I sign up for this class? In 2003 I took up a Pilates class. Pilates is a dicipline I would describe as conditioning for dancers--the emphasis is on core strength and flexibility as well as forming long, lean muscles. I loved it. After one or two classes my instructor told me I was doing really well and then she asked "did you study dance?" I was stunned. She thought I looked like I could dance? It was the most inspiring thing she could have said to me. "No," I replied. "I took a gymnastics class when I was younger but..." And then she said, "Oh well that must be it. These things stick with you, you know." So after that I made sure that I never missed a class and that I always pushed myself. The result was that I actually started feeling rather graceful and strong and poised. So after doing that for a while I decided that I was ready to take the next step, as it were, and give dance a try again. So here I am, back to today's class where I find that I'm not feeling so graceful and poised anymore. It seems that everyone else is picking up the moves and I'm still squeaking along (bare feet remember). By the end of the class I am disheartened and disappointed. Erin (the instructor) tells the class that if anyone wants to stay late she'll give some extra help. I am surprised to see five long legged girls hang around so I decide to stay too. The extra help doesn't make me a star but it works a bit, and Erin tells us that it will get easier as the weeks go on.
Maybe this time it will happen for me and I will release my inner dancer. I know next week will go better because I'm going to come prepared. With new shoes.
At this point you are probably wondering why on earth I would sign up for a dance class if I already know that I lack the coordination to even master aerobics. Well ever since I was in grade school I've had a yearning to dance. I remember watching my friends' dance recitals in awe. There's music (+), Flashy costumes (+/-) and perhaps most importantly, a special kind of footwear (+++). My love for shoes is not limited to just streetwear. So why didn't I take up dance as a kid? My mom put me in gymnastics when I was around six. My natural flexibility was an advantage to me and I could do summersaults like nobody's business. I was pretty strong on the beam too. I couldn't do the vault though. I think I lacked the upper body strength and I had a hard time getting the footwork right so that I could hit the springboard properly. I was held back in level two twice before I gave up. So I guess after that neither my mom nor I were that anxious to sign up for dancing. I also had a thing for figure skating that was never realized. I had two more somewhat failed attempts at dance later in life when I tried out for the cheerleading team in grade 10 and when I took a swing dance class in '99. In both cases I actually did not bad, but it was the instructors that turned me off.
So again, why did I sign up for this class? In 2003 I took up a Pilates class. Pilates is a dicipline I would describe as conditioning for dancers--the emphasis is on core strength and flexibility as well as forming long, lean muscles. I loved it. After one or two classes my instructor told me I was doing really well and then she asked "did you study dance?" I was stunned. She thought I looked like I could dance? It was the most inspiring thing she could have said to me. "No," I replied. "I took a gymnastics class when I was younger but..." And then she said, "Oh well that must be it. These things stick with you, you know." So after that I made sure that I never missed a class and that I always pushed myself. The result was that I actually started feeling rather graceful and strong and poised. So after doing that for a while I decided that I was ready to take the next step, as it were, and give dance a try again. So here I am, back to today's class where I find that I'm not feeling so graceful and poised anymore. It seems that everyone else is picking up the moves and I'm still squeaking along (bare feet remember). By the end of the class I am disheartened and disappointed. Erin (the instructor) tells the class that if anyone wants to stay late she'll give some extra help. I am surprised to see five long legged girls hang around so I decide to stay too. The extra help doesn't make me a star but it works a bit, and Erin tells us that it will get easier as the weeks go on.
Maybe this time it will happen for me and I will release my inner dancer. I know next week will go better because I'm going to come prepared. With new shoes.
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