Thursday, October 19, 2006

Sleeping in Truck's bed?

With my goal of moving out in sight, I've been paying a little more attention lately to where I spend my money. I looked at a beautiful apartment this week that was way out of my price range. I'll admit, a dark thought momentarily crossed my mind, if only I didn't have Truck. I quickly tossed this thought away. Not have Truck? I love Truck. He's the best thing that happened to me this year. Then I started thinking about things I don't spend money on, like beer, cigarettes, coffee, lottery tickets, or a boyfriend. I've noticed that relationships get very expensive. I know you can't put a dollar value on love but I also know that you can't choose with whom you fall in love. Sure, I could have bought an economical little 4-cylinder Honda hatchback, but I fell in love with Truck. I had my eye on him for some time and he was worth the wait.

I joke with my friends that I bought Truck to make up for the lack of a special guy in my life. For those who find that more plausible than amusing, my defense is that Truck is just part of my master plan that I've had for years: Job-->Truck-->Man-->Canoe. A few months ago I considered switching the order of Man and Canoe, but I realised (and hated to admit) that canoeing is really a two person activity. I could not realistically see myself carrying a canoe and paddle all by myself down to the water. I will however, accept a man who comes with a canoe.

As I said, I love Truck and I'm pretty sure Truck loves me. We both enjoy the same music and Truck doesn't mind when I sing along. Truck makes me happy; I love going places with him and he always lets me pick the destination. Truck is also good to my family. Even my dad likes Truck. My sister sometimes goes out with Truck, but she likes to tease me that she shows Truck a better time than I do. That may be so, but Truck always comes back home to me. I'm not going to mince words about Truck's physical attributes--he's hot, even guys say so. He's also rugged and sporty, yet soft where it counts. Every time I see him in the driveway I fall in love with him all over again. I can't believe how lucky I am to have found Truck.

In the end, if I can't have that beautiful apartment with the river view and the hardwood floors, I'm okay with that. It's a sacrifice I have to make in order to stay with Truck. Besides, I know Truck can take me places with way more amazing views.

I find it kind of hard to believe right now that I could one day find a Man who I will love as much--I know how ridiculous that sounds. But really, with Truck I got to custom order the colour, the upholstery, the wheels and everything else about him. I can't custom order a guy and that sucks. Hmm, let's do a specs sheet on my custom order Mr. Right.

  • Model: Mr. Goodwrench ( cuz he knows about cars)
  • Year: 1979 (I decided long ago that 27 is the perfect age. Guys younger than that are useless to me.)
  • Colour: I have been informed that he will have brown hair and eyes. This should work, but I have a preference for green eyes and black hair.
  • Features: Musically inclined, preferably in a band. Above average skills in the kitchen. Well mannered. Ambitious. Adventurous. Does not wear baseball cap and jeans anywhere other than to sporting events. Can hold his own in intelligent conversations about things other than TV, the latest gaming system, or how drunk he got last weekend. Respects my family. Must love dogs. Kind. Travels well.
  • Automatic/Standard: Automatic--I have no interest in directing him into the next gear.
  • Security Features: Honest. Trustworthy. Self-Assured. Relaxed. Patient.
  • Wheels: Something other than a skateboard please.
  • Warranty: 5 years with optional upgrade to lifetime.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Make a Wish


I made a wish today and it came true. Happy gold star day. Make a wish and I will wish that it comes true for you.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

If this is my future, I'd like to wait for the next bus, thanks.

For the past week or two I've been feeling a bit discouraged about the apartment hunt (I finally did the expenses calculations on paper; it was depressing. This is another reason why I still love writing more than math.) This morning though I got up early, read the paper, and circled some places that sounded interesting. Then I actually called them and people actually answered. I set up three appointments. Two for today, one for tomorrow. This is the resulting adventure of the first appointment.

I was supposed to meet the landlord at noon. I arrive at the Osborne Village address and see that the place is a charming suite on the top floor of a Painted Lady style house. I wait outside for the guy to show up.

Soon enough, an old grey Volvo station wagon pulls up and parks in front. A tall man, roughly the age of my dad, or maybe just roughly aged, gets out and greets me.

"I just realized that I brought the wrong keys with me. Grabbed the green instead of the blue. We can try the buzzer to see if someone is home."

We try and have no luck in reaching anyone. "I don't live far from here, it will only take about 10 minutes to go get the keys," he tells me. "Would you like to come for the ride? It's warmer than waiting outside."

I do actually stop and listen for a moment to the voices in my head telling me not to get into the car with this man. I ignore them though and go anyway, and as you can see, I lived to tell the story (Side note: this is the second time in my life that I've gotten into a car with a strange man. I figure that I have one more chance before something terrible happens, so I intend to use my last free ride very carefully).

We chat a bit during the ride. He tells me that the tenant before the one in the suite now was a Jill, so he had a good feeling about me after we spoke on the phone. "It's a Jill House," he tells me. I like the sound of that. It is only appropriate that ajillstory should take place in A Jill House. He also adds that anyone who lives in the house generally sticks around for a long time. The first Jill stayed 10 years. By the time we return to the house I am quite excited to check things out.

The front door opens to a common landing. We must go up a narrow staircase to a tiny second landing to get to the apartment door. The guy knocks, opens the door, and announces himself. Chris, the current tenant, is a bit surprised to have company. She replies back, "I'm in my underwear." We retreat back to the tiny landing and give her a few moments to get decent.

We eventually get into the place. There's another small set of stairs and another tiny landing from which three rooms span out. We find Chris sitting on her couch in her tiny living room in her pajamas, eating a bowl of Cherrios. The place is looking quite lived in.

"Come in, look around, don't be afraid to open doors," she tells us.

Before we went in, the guy sized me up and said he was glad that I wasn't tall, because with the place being on the top floor of this old house, the ceilings are all sloped and low. I didn't see that as being a turn off at first. I had a friend who lived in a place like that and it was quite cute actually. It didn't feel small or tight at all, it was also kept clean though. I felt very uncomfortable peaking around in this place when clothes were all over the floor and dirty dishes were all across the counter and in the sink. The kitchen area was the biggest room of the suite, but it was also the most drastically affected by the peaked ceilings. I could not fathom setting up my pub style table in there. Given the untidy state of the place at the time, I couldn't really fathom taking the health risk of setting up anything in there. I don't know how my face read but I could feel myself struggling to hold up my front of being mildly impressed. Ten years in that place would be a jail sentence that this Jill does not deserve.

Tomorrow I check out a place in my own neighbourhood. I'll let you know how it goes. It can't get much worse.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Bad Good Karma

Someone broke my heart this weekend. I was devastated. I didn't show it much because I was trying to keep up a good face for Thanksgiving, plus I was looking forward to my publicity stunt in today's paper. But I may as well tell you the whole crazy story now and call on you to support me.

It was Vince.

Vince and I chat almost everyday. I don't know how we always find something new to say, but we try to help each other out with stuff the best we can from over 1500 km apart. On Saturday night things were going along great. I was talking to him about buying a laptop, he was complaining about the work he had to do. Then he announces, "That's it, I am not talking to you any more until you move out and get your laptop OR until I finish my work." It would seem that the latter option would be realised first, except that Vince is a terrible procrastinator, which was the reason he needed to set up this ultimatum in the first place. Truly, I was not heart-broken by this deal. I know he has boring stuff to get done. He will finish it eventually and then things will go back to normal.

Sometime after setting this deal though I had a moment of regrettable weakness. Vince belongs to a bunch of these networking type sites where you post a profile and people can read about you and contact you. I decided to check out one that he had mentioned and build my profile. Soon enough, someone finds me interesting and sends me a note. I check them out. They seem quite normal and interesting so I write back. Then they want to chat. I suddenly put on my Pollyanna face and say "okay!" The only way we can do this though is through gtalk. (Later I will realize just how dumb of a move this was.) I talk to them a bit. They are very pleasant and full of nice things to say about me. The conversation is kind of dull because there is no laughing. I like to laugh with my friends. Usually this involves me telling them about something dumb I did and I could tell that this person, who seemed to think I was something very wonderful, would not be able to laugh with me about say, my home-wrecker stories or the time that I used the microwave to make egg bombs (that one still makes me laugh).

They find me online last night while I am writing my Media Blitz post. I am polite and ask how they are doing. "I'm doing fine, even better now," they say.

"Oh, why is that?" I ask.

"Because you're here!"

Oh sweet saccharine, when did I jump onto an episode of Barney? I didn't think it was possible to find someone who could out cheer/nice me. I am Little Miss Sunshine, Cheer Bear and Rainbow Brite all rolled into one. I told them I was working on something and couldn't really talk. They left.

This morning I go online at 6:30 am before heading to work. I wanted to find the link to my news story and email it to myself. As soon as I log on to my email I see that they are online too. I quickly change my status to "Busy". No match for this Ray of Light! They message me anyway!

"Good Morning!" They say. Honestly, there is not enough Starbucks on this planet to make me cheery enough for a friendly conversation with a near stranger at 6:30 am. I'm not even especially polite to my own father at that time of the morning when we're sitting at the breakfast table together. Aside from that, I simply have no time, but this person tells me "hang on a second, brb, I have to go get my tea." Hang on to yourself buddy, I'm outta here.

I titled this post Bad Good Karma. You know how they say Karma comes back to you 10 fold? I think I'm feeling that now. I know I'm a cheery and chatty person. I usually have something nice to say about everyone too. Tell me now though, am I this annoying? How on Earth do you guys put up with me? I swear, I'll cut it out right now. I sincerely apologize for annoying anyone with my unsolicted rays of sunshine. If I ever start to annoy you, please just tell me to go away and threaten to tell my new friend that I'm free.

I feel pretty bad and ungrateful about the whole thing but surely there are a million other people who would actually appreciate this person's attention. All I keep thinking is that I just got a taste of my very own sickly sweet medicine. Excuse me while I go load up now on some bitterness and sarcasm.

(PS--I'm not really mad at Vince so don't send him any hate mail. Vince, please don't highjack my comments section!)

Soul Mates article

For those who wanted to read the shoe article but could not access it online or get a copy of the actual paper , here is the text as it appeared in the October 10, 2006 Winnipeg Free Press. For your convenience, I have highlighted my quotes.

Sole mates

Love shoes more than you love chocolate or your children? You're not alone

By Cheryl Binning

IT'S not every day that you're walking down the street and a guy holds up a sign that reads "Nice feet." But it happened to Rachael this summer while on a business trip to Toronto.
In between meetings, she managed to squeeze in a pedicure. As she walked back to her hotel, a man in a car slowed down beside her. She was astonished to see him holding up a card on which the admiring "foot note" was scrawled.

She glanced down at her sandal-clad feet sporting shiny new polish, then back at the man. He motioned her towards his car. She hesitated, then decided to see what this was all about.
Rolling down his window, the man said he was a connoisseur of feet. Hers were among the nicest he had ever seen, and would she meet him across the street for a drink?

Curiosity got the better of her. She agreed to meet him in the pub. Over a beer, he offered a proposition: if she agreed to be his foot mistress, he would keep her continually supplied with new shoes -- expensive shoes -- whatever shoes her heart desired.

"I was so tempted to say yes," sighs the 35-year-old Winnipegger, who had visions of Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos dancing in her head. "I would have done it just for the shoes..."
The would-be shoe daddy could have been an axe murderer, and yet Rachael -- an otherwise intelligent and relatively cautious woman -- actually considered taking him up on the deal (she did take down his e-mail address). Such is the allure of the high-end shoe.

Paola Jacobbi, a Vanity Fair correspondent based in Italy, explores the female fervor for footwear in the new book I Want Those Shoes! She agrees that women will do some crazy things for a pair of heels.

"Fisticuffs for the last pair of leopard-skin shoes in a size 6; elbow jabs to get to a ridiculous pair of gold sandals; insults exchanged for an absolutely ordinary-looking pair of brown ankle boots," she writes.

For many women shoes are a passion; for some they are an obsession.
Jill B
@rr0tt considers them a best friend.

"Each pair of shoes I wear has a story," says B@rr0tt, a 25-year-old Winnipeg professional.


"I can tell you how we met, how I waited for them to go on sale -- or how excited I was to find they were such a deal -- what we have done together and the places we've been.

"It's like picking up a man, but even better. I find a pair, admire them from all angles, try them on, admire myself in them and imagine us walking together down the street. It's falling in love, except without rejection."

The female fascination with shoes tends to begin at an early age. Just about every young girl can recall slipping on a pair of her mother's or aunt's high heels to play "grown-up."

As children, we learn to associate shoes with romance and magic. Cinderella gets her prince because of a glass slipper and Dorothy finds her way home to Kansas with the help of ruby shoes.

Jacobbi, reached at her home in the Italian countryside, says her own shoe craze started as a child. She was flat-footed and forced to wear "horrible little ankle boots" to fix the defect -- except for on Sunday when she was allowed to put on her patent leather shoes with tassels and shiny buckles.

"So every morning, before setting off for school, I would secretly slip my so-called Sunday shoes into my satchel and as soon as I was out of the house I would change into them. My feet are flatter than ever."

Expensive designer shoes have become a fashion craze, thanks in part to the now-concluded TV series Sex & the City, in which footwear played a starring role.

Female viewers were riveted not only by the dating exploits of Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) and her hip New York friends, but by their $500 shoes. The show proved that even intelligent, modern, independent women can get weak knees over beautiful wedges, platforms, kitten heels and boots.

Annette Woodroffe understands. "My heart rate actually goes up when I enter certain shoe stores," says the 32-year-old environmental lab analyst, who has 50 pairs of shoes and says it's not enough.

Whether it's functional brown loafers, strappy sandals or elegant pumps; a pair of casual sneakers or sexy stilettos, Jacobbi says that what we wear on our feet is an act of communicating who we are to the world.

"At any given point in our lives, and even at different times in a single day, shoes are indicators of our age, mood, desires," says the author. "Consciously or not, shoes are part of the message. They are our personal exclamation mark."

Jacobbi isn't the only one to think shoes are a window into a woman's "sole."

"Shoes really say a lot about you as a person," says Robyn Thomas, who keeps her own shoe cupboard well inventoried.

She has seven pairs of sneakers and six pairs of athletic shoes; 15 evening/formal occasion pairs; six pairs for everyday; six pairs of boots and about 13 more pairs she puts in the "other" category.

"I love the excitement of finding a pair of shoes that reflect aspects of my personality or how I am feeling at a particular moment," says the 25-year-old Winnipeg contemporary dancer and occupational therapy student.

"Sometimes I buy shoes that are a surprise, something I never would have expected to buy, and that tells me something about myself I hadn't yet realized or maybe wasn't comfortable showing until I found these shoes. Often I feel that my shoes know more about me than I do myself."

B@rr0tt says the 52 pairs in her closet help her create different personas.

"Each pair gives me a different attitude to carry through the day -- flirty, sweet, professional, sport or vixen. They're a way to present your personality, or to try one on temporarily."

But shoes can be a double-edged sword, admits 31-year-old Amara Lehmann.

"They can boost your confidence, but they can also bring you exquisite pain -- during the breaking-in process -- and ravage a paycheque."

They can also ruin an otherwise promising date.

Rachel Horton is a 28-year-old microbiologist with a passion for shoes. Her high regard for foot fashion extends to potential suitors.

"I have actually skipped out on a date because the guy turned up wearing terrible shoes," she says.

"He was wearing dark jeans and these really white trainers. It looked so terrible I knew I couldn't go through with it. I stayed for a drink, said I was tired and he drove me home. Then I didn't return his calls ... it's immature, I know."

Footwear Facts:
* The word bootleg (used to describe something done illegally) originated from pirates and smugglers who typically wore big boots that were large enough to hold stolen goods inside.

* In the original Cinderella story, her slippers were made of fur -- not glass. The story was changed, accidentally, in the 1600s by a translator who got confused between the French "une pantoufle en vair" (a fur slipper) and "une pantoufle en verre" (a glass slipper).

* Imelda Romualdez Marcos, wife of former Philippines dictator Ferdinand Marcos, was rumoured to own 3,000 pairs of shoes. She denied it, telling the media that in fact she only owned 1,060 pairs. Other shoe accumulators were Joan Crawford, who had 300 pairs, and Jayne Mansfield, who owned 200.

* Up until 1850 there was no right or left shoe. They were designed absolutely straight to fit on either foot.

* The most popular heel height is between five and seven centimetres.

* For catwalk fashion shows heels can be as high as 12 cm, but are lowered to 10 cm before they are retailed in stores

* Sneakers were first made in America in 1916 by Keds.

* The first lady's boot was designed for Queen Victoria in 1840.

* Toronto's Bata Shoe Museum features more than 10,000 shoes and related artifacts.

* The shoestring was first invented in England in 1790. Before this time shoes were commonly fastened with buckles.

-- Compiled from I Want Those Shoes!
and various websites
© 2006 Winnipeg Free Press. All Rights Reserved.

Monday, October 09, 2006

The Jill Media Blitz

Attention everyone, I would like you to turn to the front page of the Life section of your Winnipeg Free Press. Now does anyone notice anything of particular interest? Yes, you in the back? That is correct, Jill is being featured on the FRONT PAGE WITH A FULL COLOUR PHOTO! For those of you still fumbling around for the correct section, Jill, and her friend/esteemed co-worker, Amara, have been featured on the front page as women who love shoes. Wow, it took me just under 25 years to be recognized for my shoe collection--way cool.

The photo shoot was a lot of fun. I grabbed the majority of my 53 pairs of shoes, loaded them into two laundry baskets and hauled them to Amara's house. Amara was surprised at the size of my collection--I was almost embarrassed! I think I have a problem. The shoes I am holding in the picture are on of my favourites Nine West. Vince, can you find the famous Franco Sartos that carried me through that night in Toronto? This is why I love shoes--each one holds a story.

It took a bit of time to set the shot up. Thanks goes out to Amara's husband, Christian, for helping with the set up. Amara and I were beaming when the photographer referred to us as, "the models".

My quote of the night:


Me: I envisioned an American Beauty shot, you know, with the girl and all the rose petals

Photographer: Yeah, what's different about this?

Me (blushing a little): We're not naked. (Not that I wanted to do that shot)

After Amara and I finished playing "models" we toasted our 15 minutes of fame with some red wine and cheese. Then we continued the celebration at The Keg. It was great!

Most of my readers know that I am also scheduled to appear on the CBC News sometime. I did an interview last week on the federal tax incentive for buying monthly bus passes (this was the fun opportunity that Amara offered me the previous week while I was at the RMH meetings). The taping started with me getting onto the bus after work. The bus was pretty full and people were staring. I tried to act casual and just chat to Amara, but I realize out of context on TV I'm going to look like a very friendly bus rider. Eventually I got to sit and the interview started. Then I had to transfer onto another bus which thankfully was less full. The interview continued for a little while longer. I think I mostly sounded intelligent. As I said, it was supposed to air last week sometime, but I didn't see it and they didn't call me to tell me it was going to be on. I thought it was only going to be on the Manitoba news, but the consumer reports section appears on the regional broadcast, so my reach may be even further than I first thought! So yes, the Jill that you know and love is the face of an average Winnipegger. Wait a minute, average? I'm only average on my bad days. :P

Monday, October 02, 2006

Yay Me.

Friday morning I woke up, turned on my light and frowned. Catching a sober glimpse of my Barbie-hot-pink fingernails (Pantone colour# 239 I'd guess) I decided that wine "tasting" and manicures are not such a good idea. Okay, hot pink fingernails is not such a big deal, but thank goodness they didn't decide to do wine tasting and tattooing.

The first session of the day was on fundraising. The presenter was great--very knowledgeable, entertaining, and passionate. As I sat there I actually started to feel like I didn't want to give all this up yet. I know I've complained loudly about my work with RMH, but it is a good cause. Although I have not been personally affected by the house or known someone who has used it, I can appreciate the importance of keeping families together during what can be a very scary time. I can empathize with the kids who just want their mom and dad and maybe their siblings to be there while they're in a hospital in a strange city. I can also empathize with the parents who want their spouses there for support while they have to watch their child go for the tests and surgeries. I know that I can't go back to doing the meetings and committee work, but there must be a project I can do on my own to help. I will have to investigate.

At a break I checked my phone for messages. Amara had been looking for me. She has a exciting opportunity for me which turns into some fun on Monday...

I did actually get to say hi to Michael Buble before the week ended. It wasn't very wonderful. I had just finished eating my chocolate covered ice cream on a stick and was on my way home when he was on his way in. He said hi. I said hi. Then I stopped and prayed that I did not have melted chocolate in the corner of my mouth or smeared across my lip. Never saw him again.

The conference went well, people quite enjoyed my creative contributions (I had to write stuff) and I learned a lot. I had intended to share more with you on this week, but the story just got too big--there was dialogue, flashbacks, sub-plots. It was a bit surreal. All told, it was a really fun week. Yay me.

And now she sleeps in a bowl full of cherries.
Constantly,
Consciously,
dreaming.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Don't Worry, be Happy

The story continues...

It is Thursday and Jill, our lovable yet ridiculous little heroine must get herself to the hotel on time for breakfast before her first day at the conference.

My alarm went off at the usual time of 5:30 am on Thursday morning. Instead of getting up I lay there, contemplating how much time I would actually need to get ready that morning as a) I didn't need to eat breakfast, I could eat at the hotel, b) I wasn't relying on a bus to get downtown, I was driving, however complicating matters was c) Truck needed gas and d) I needed to jump in the shower without disrupting Tracy's schedule, which I would be doing if I did not start my morning at the same usual time. I contemplated for approximately 30 cozy warm minutes. I decided that because breakfast was at 8:00 I should leave the house a little before 7:30. I came to this conclusion based on the theory that you can get to absolutely anywhere in Winnipeg in half an hour. Okay, ready, go.

Not sure how, but time passed a little more quickly than I had anticipated. All of a sudden it was 7:30 and I was spraying weather protector on my new boots, gathering up my materials, trying to decide what jacket to wear and wondering if I would have time to stop for Starbucks. I headed out the door, jumped into my mom's car to move it out from in front of Truck and noticed that there was frost on the windows. No problem for just moving the car out of the driveway, but Truck definitely needed some scraping. I frowned as I came to the realization, "I don't even have a snow brush in here anymore." I reach into my purse and pull out the first card I could find--MTS pay phone card, it would do. Scrape scrape scrape with defrost cranked to aid the process. It was not really a sufficient job. I realized I should have done the back window too. Things were pretty cleared up by the time I reached the gas station. As I stood at the pumps in my black boots, and cute black skirt I checked the time and realized that it was quite possible Truck would be the only one of us getting fed that morning.

After some "where do the conference people park?" confusion I finally got to sit down to eat a blueberry muffin. I scoped the room and saw that Michael Buble was sitting on the exact opposite side. He arrived late--Ahh, a rebel.

The first session of the day was The Yin and Yang of Leadership Development, presented by professional speaker, Dari Latimer. I quite enjoyed the Yin and Yang graphics and wished that Vince could be there to appreciate the session with me.


"The Yin and Yang of Leadership Development presents an ongoing paradox, in that being most effective at developing others requires that you develop a strong focus on yourself!"
The speaker was very dynamic and full of positive energy. Her topic and points were interesting and motivating, however I found that I mostly live by what she was saying anyway. Here are some points I took down:


  • See every problem as an opportunity
  • The future is not some place we are going, but one we are creating
  • If I really want to learn something, I teach it to someone else
  • 93% of communication is non-verbal
  • Know the importance of telling stories, they are memorable
  • Ask yourself, "who are you, and what do you want?"
  • Do you believe in the power of your words?
  • The best way to learn is by attracting your opposite. Imagine having a conversation with the most irritating person; they represent your undeveloped self.
  • Believe that everyone does the best they can given the information and resources they had at that moment.
  • Check here for an interesting study on how exposing water to positive words and then freezing it made "prettier" crystals than doing the same to samples exposed to negative words.

I had mixed feelings about the presentation. Yes I am one of those who believes in positive thinking, choosing my own destiny and all that stuff, but motivational speeches like that seem to turn into 90 minutes of inspirational sound bites. Essentially, not much is said yet everything sounds profound and insightful.

The rest of the day's presentations were mostly sleepers--finances and stuff. At break time we got cookies and chocolate milk. I have never seen so many adults get so excited by brown cow milk.

I was scheduled to go to Pilates that night but the hospitality suite was calling my name--wine tasting and manicures. Normally, you'd have to break both my arms to get me to skip Pilates, but apparently free wine will also work. Michael Buble did not show up that evening, but I talked to a guy from Halifax instead and found out we were both going to the Bomber game on Friday. He looked like Mike from San Francisco, it was weird. Way too many flashbacks that week. I got home around 12:30 and went to bed looking forward to a grand finale on Friday.