Duane did a post on the cost of living a branded life that got me thinking about what my buying habits may say about me. I am guilty of paying $4.10 for a tall (fancy word for small) no fat (made with skim milk) whatever-flavour-of-the-month latte, extra hot (on cold days) at Starbucks. I am not a regular coffee drinker; I consider it a treat, like ice cream. But, like the true Winnipegger I am (where the W stands for wholesale), my pretentiousness is cheap. I have a Starbucks Visa that rewards me with Starbucks funds every month so half the time I don't pay for those overpriced cups of bean juice. I like Starbucks because every time I go in there I still feel like a kid in a toy store with all my allowance in my back pocket. I hope I never start taking the experience for granted.
Soon I will be a homeowner and I know I'll have to cut back on the experience shopping. Yesterday I checked out the coffee at Macs. They had two basic varieties--breakfast blend and Colombian. The Colombian would have been my pick but it was nearly empty. I picked a flavour shot and got to pump it in myself. Then I poured my own milk. It was actually kind of fun making it all myself. The cost? For the same amount of coffee in a tall Starbucks drink I paid only $1.40. I could buy almost three of those compared to one just up the street at Starbucks. So there you go, Macs was cheaper and it did the job of warming my hands and insides just fine.
I find the idea of branding fascinating. I really admire well branded products because I have an understanding of what goes into building a brand. As a consumer though, I don't think I get too hung up on brands. There are a few I like to support in the same way I am loyal to a favourite sports team but that allegiance usually comes from a personal history I have with the company.
Here are a few brands you can label me with:
Chevy
My dad always drove Chevrolets. He sacrificed his Camero for me when they realized it was awkward to put a baby seat in the back. He had an old green truck for a while that I loved. When we watch a race together we cheer for Chevy teams. I know what everyone says about the American car makers but it would feel very wrong if I tried to become a Honda Civic girl.
McDonald's
I don't eat fast food but if I had no other choice I'd pick McDonald's over any of the other places. My Aunt, who I admire a lot, had a long career with McDonald's working her way up from the store level to Community Relations Rep. As a result, I grew up on McDonald's schwag. I went to the beach with a Ronald McDonald towel, I poured Kool-Aid from a McDonald's pitcher and I happily amused myself for hours with all the Lego sets from McDonald's Happy Meals. When I got my first job in advertising working on the McDonald's account I felt like I was part of a legacy. The job also gave me a lot of respect for the business and how it became successful.
MTS
My friends tease me about how my dad swears by the local phone company. They know he works there but I don't think they know how deeply rooted the company is in our history. My dad started working for MTS when he was 17. It was where he met my mom--the shy, blonde, small town girl who delivered inter-office mail and blushed when he whistled at her. He's worked his way up and around the company a bit and managed to survive the cuts and layoffs. When he retires in three years he will have put in 38 years of service. So yes, I am a little biased, but I think MTS is the best choice in Manitoba for phone, Internet and cable services.
The Bay
My Grandma worked at The Bay office in downtown Winnipeg for years. I remember going down and meeting her for lunch at The Paddlewheel Restaurant with my mom and sister. I remember her proudly introducing us all to the other ladies that worked there. I remember all my Christmas presents being wrapped in Bay boxes. Sears and Eaton's were just department stores, The Bay is family.
Google
I'm adding this one for Vince. About two years ago Vince tried to get me to open a Google account and I refused to give in. I don't remember what finally made me make the switch from MSN and Hotmail to Google and Gmail but today I am almost completely Googlified (Google branding actually does not appreciate the use of their name as a verb. Sorry Google). I use Gmail, Gtalk, Google Picasa, Google Reader, (Google) Blogger, Google Maps, and Google Search. Today, my loyalty to Google is reinforced by the fun Google experience I had last summer. I don't know what I'll do if Vince goes back to work at Microsoft.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Uptown Girl
On Sunday I went to the mall. I took the bus down there as a quasi protest to the $1.19 gas prices. I also had a thought about heading downtown to the planetarium after I finished my shopping and quite liked the idea of not having to deal with downtown parking. It was almost easy. Apparently on Sunday the bus I took downtown doesn't go as far as I had hoped so I had to do some walking.
The show was good. I went there wanting to find out what the glittering diamond was that I saw the night before just below the moon. I had a hunch it was Venus and hey, I was right. I forgot how cool the planetarium was. I really enjoyed it. I think it would be a good place for a first date. The only draw back was the small crying children drowning out the presenter guy. If I was two I'd probably be crying too sitting there in the dark with some huge scary machine whirring around in the middle of the room.
Anyway, after I was reacquainted with the night sky and once again confident about locating the north star, big and little dippers and Leo the Lion, I hiked back to the bus stop. On my way I passed by two funky red chairs in the window of an antique shop. I love red. I love red Popsicles, red Lifesavers and red shoes. The shop was closed so I decided I'd go back on my lunch hour on Tuesday to check the chairs out.
Joanna drove me down (in her little red car) on Tuesday afternoon and agreed that the chairs were awesome. At $170 for the pair I figured they were a pretty good deal given the excellent condition and quality. Sold. As we drove back to the office I remarked to Jo how things seemed to line up perfectly that weekend in order for me to find the perfect chairs. The planets were quite literally aligned, because had I not noticed Venus in the sky on Saturday night I would not have gotten the idea in my head to visit the planetarium and then I would not have found myself walking down Main Street that Sunday afternoon. Hit me with a bus, I found my destiny.
Today my mom took Truck to meet me after work so we could go pick the chairs up. She slid over to the passenger side to let me drive at which point I realized that I was going to be commanding my vehicle through rush hour traffic. On a Friday afternoon. Downtown.
These things stress me out but we made it to the store without anyone getting hurt. I walked up to the lady at the cash desk and announced that I was there to pick up the two red chairs in the front window.
"Do you have anyone here with you to help?" she asked.
"My mom."
"Oh, well... you have to carry them out yourself, I can't help you and they're pretty heavy chairs."
"You don't have a dolly or something?"
"No, I'm sorry. You can come back on Sunday when the owner is here and he can help you."
So I went home chairless. Thank God it's the weekend. Someone get me a drink.
The show was good. I went there wanting to find out what the glittering diamond was that I saw the night before just below the moon. I had a hunch it was Venus and hey, I was right. I forgot how cool the planetarium was. I really enjoyed it. I think it would be a good place for a first date. The only draw back was the small crying children drowning out the presenter guy. If I was two I'd probably be crying too sitting there in the dark with some huge scary machine whirring around in the middle of the room.
Anyway, after I was reacquainted with the night sky and once again confident about locating the north star, big and little dippers and Leo the Lion, I hiked back to the bus stop. On my way I passed by two funky red chairs in the window of an antique shop. I love red. I love red Popsicles, red Lifesavers and red shoes. The shop was closed so I decided I'd go back on my lunch hour on Tuesday to check the chairs out.
Joanna drove me down (in her little red car) on Tuesday afternoon and agreed that the chairs were awesome. At $170 for the pair I figured they were a pretty good deal given the excellent condition and quality. Sold. As we drove back to the office I remarked to Jo how things seemed to line up perfectly that weekend in order for me to find the perfect chairs. The planets were quite literally aligned, because had I not noticed Venus in the sky on Saturday night I would not have gotten the idea in my head to visit the planetarium and then I would not have found myself walking down Main Street that Sunday afternoon. Hit me with a bus, I found my destiny.Today my mom took Truck to meet me after work so we could go pick the chairs up. She slid over to the passenger side to let me drive at which point I realized that I was going to be commanding my vehicle through rush hour traffic. On a Friday afternoon. Downtown.
Construction. Closed lanes. Pylons hugging the inside lane. One way streets. Lost drivers. Casual pedestrians sauntering across the road. Pothole! Driving in circles trying to find the closest parking lot.
These things stress me out but we made it to the store without anyone getting hurt. I walked up to the lady at the cash desk and announced that I was there to pick up the two red chairs in the front window.
"Do you have anyone here with you to help?" she asked.
"My mom."
"Oh, well... you have to carry them out yourself, I can't help you and they're pretty heavy chairs."
"You don't have a dolly or something?"
"No, I'm sorry. You can come back on Sunday when the owner is here and he can help you."
So I went home chairless. Thank God it's the weekend. Someone get me a drink.
...uptown girl--Billy Joel, Uptown Girl
She's been living in her white bread world
As long as anyone with hot blood can
And now she's looking for a downtown man
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
a toy story
It turns out that George did not whack Monkey. He had one of his goons carry out the deed. That goon's name is Animal.
Monkey made a miraculous recovery but something had to be done. Sometime this morning before George got in, Animal was skulking around, jamming up printers, stealing files, and generally just up to no good. You can imagine his surprise though when he found himself cornered by Penguin Pete, Lil' Penguin, Hamburglar, Monkey (who was not dead) and the number 24 Dupont Chevrolet.
Penguin Pete pointed some kind of paperclip weapon at Animal. "Get'im boys," he instructed.
The boys got him alright, but they didn't really know what they were supposed to do with him. After all, they were just filled with fluff. So they put him in the back of Baby Truck and drove.
The gang ended up at a local sports bar. "Buy us drinks!" Monkey commanded Animal (even though Monkey really was not supposed to be drinking, having recently being nearly dead and all). Animal, not quite sure what to make of the gang, obliged and bought a round.
After a few, the gang mingled with some other patrons. Animal, however, continued drinking.
Feeling pretty good and spiffy, Animal decided to try to chat up a girl. Sadly though, the girls were not buying what he was selling.
Whoa, Animal, what did you say to Kelly-Marie?
OUCH!
Feeling dejected but not about to let a good night go to waste, Animal went back to drinking...
...and got pretty darn drunk. Let's hope George doesn't see him like this.
Despite being full of fluff, the gang was also now full of beer. So they did the responsible thing and took a cab home.
And while George and Jill are sworn enemies, it seems that Monkey, Hamburglar, Lil' Penguin and Animal are now the newest Get-Along-Gang. Perhaps there is hope for George and Jill yet. Perhaps.
Update: Animal didn't look so good today
Monkey made a miraculous recovery but something had to be done. Sometime this morning before George got in, Animal was skulking around, jamming up printers, stealing files, and generally just up to no good. You can imagine his surprise though when he found himself cornered by Penguin Pete, Lil' Penguin, Hamburglar, Monkey (who was not dead) and the number 24 Dupont Chevrolet.
Penguin Pete pointed some kind of paperclip weapon at Animal. "Get'im boys," he instructed.The boys got him alright, but they didn't really know what they were supposed to do with him. After all, they were just filled with fluff. So they put him in the back of Baby Truck and drove.
The gang ended up at a local sports bar. "Buy us drinks!" Monkey commanded Animal (even though Monkey really was not supposed to be drinking, having recently being nearly dead and all). Animal, not quite sure what to make of the gang, obliged and bought a round.
After a few, the gang mingled with some other patrons. Animal, however, continued drinking.
Feeling pretty good and spiffy, Animal decided to try to chat up a girl. Sadly though, the girls were not buying what he was selling.
Whoa, Animal, what did you say to Kelly-Marie?
OUCH!Feeling dejected but not about to let a good night go to waste, Animal went back to drinking...
...and got pretty darn drunk. Let's hope George doesn't see him like this.Despite being full of fluff, the gang was also now full of beer. So they did the responsible thing and took a cab home.
And while George and Jill are sworn enemies, it seems that Monkey, Hamburglar, Lil' Penguin and Animal are now the newest Get-Along-Gang. Perhaps there is hope for George and Jill yet. Perhaps.Update: Animal didn't look so good today
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Spy vs Spy at Good Wooden Leg
Joanna and I headed out at lunch today. We were both hoping to catch some sun and warm up a bit. We walked the usual route over the bridge down Osborne. We met up with George, who was coming out of the Shoppers. I gave him a cheerful wave before remembering that we are supposed to be sworn enemies. "Oops! I forgot to snub you!" I giggled.
Earlier in the week George asked me, "which one of us is supposed to be the evil one again?" I explained that after 25 years of being fair and virtuous I was feeling enticed to cross to the dark side, although he clearly is more evil looking than I.
"I'm not very good at this evil thing," I admitted.
"Fine, I'll be the evil one," George said and carried on his way back to the office.
When Joanna and I got back we saw George again at the photocopiers. I can't remember what he said, but I then turned to Joanna and said, "y'know, neither one of us is very good at being a villain. We're just both too nice."
I wish I could eat my sweet sweet words because when I walked into my cube I found a crime scene on my desk.
I'm not really sure what happened, but apparently because last week I hung Abi's pony, George cracked my monkey. I guess some tiny thugs of his came in and whacked the poor little guy over the head with a pencil. Tragic, yes, but I think I might actually have shed a tear if they had done something to the little penguin who sits beside the monkey. Naturally, I took tons of photos for the investigation. I think there may be a finger print too.
Naturally, George has an alibi and apparently Hollene has joined his team. I think she's after my shoe collection.
The evil war is on, but help me readers, how am I going to top this?
Earlier in the week George asked me, "which one of us is supposed to be the evil one again?" I explained that after 25 years of being fair and virtuous I was feeling enticed to cross to the dark side, although he clearly is more evil looking than I.
"I'm not very good at this evil thing," I admitted.
"Fine, I'll be the evil one," George said and carried on his way back to the office.
When Joanna and I got back we saw George again at the photocopiers. I can't remember what he said, but I then turned to Joanna and said, "y'know, neither one of us is very good at being a villain. We're just both too nice."
I wish I could eat my sweet sweet words because when I walked into my cube I found a crime scene on my desk.
I'm not really sure what happened, but apparently because last week I hung Abi's pony, George cracked my monkey. I guess some tiny thugs of his came in and whacked the poor little guy over the head with a pencil. Tragic, yes, but I think I might actually have shed a tear if they had done something to the little penguin who sits beside the monkey. Naturally, I took tons of photos for the investigation. I think there may be a finger print too.Naturally, George has an alibi and apparently Hollene has joined his team. I think she's after my shoe collection.
The evil war is on, but help me readers, how am I going to top this?
Monday, May 14, 2007
Jill is wearing Starbucks and bringing a whole new meaning to "extra hot"
Abi, Joanna and I decided to walk to Starbucks today. I wasn't wearing good walking shoes but Hollene was sweet enough to lend me a pair of hers. I'm not sure what made me think her wedge thong sandals would be more comfortable than my wedge, non toe-severing sandals, but it made perfect sense at the time.
It was drizzling and there was a breeze at our backs as we made our way across the bridge. I ordered a latte with a shot of almond, extra hot because by the time the coffee makes it across the wind tunnel that is known as the Osborne Street Bridge it's usually just the right temperature for ultimate enjoyment.
As we headed back we noticed the breeze was more in the range of gale force winds directly from the north. The wind, in combination with the shoes had me shuffling along like a two-toed sloth. My neon green umbrella, held at a 45 degree angle in front of me, acted as a hazard sign to on coming pedestrians. Just as we passed the Shell station my left ankle rolled and a string of expletives fell out of my mouth. As my faithful readers know, I never curse. My mouth is so clean I could wash my hands in it (I think that metaphor sounded better in my head). I don't know if Abi and Joanna heard me, but they did stop and turn around to see me standing there in the rain with latte splatter on my pants, jacket, dripping off my hand; my umbrella turned inside out; sniffing because my nose is no longer stuffy but running constantly; and, as Abi described it, displaying the saddest look you ever saw on my sweet little face. I think the first thing I did was look at my right hand which was carrying my wallet and realized with grand disappointment that I didn't have my camera with me so I couldn't get someone to take a picture for the blog (if I was going to have to own the experience I at least wanted to share as much of it with the world as possible). Abi ran and grabbed me a stack of napkins from the gas station convenience store (it lived up to its name!). I am now back and mostly dry. I returned Hollene's shoes and left her a sticky note on them to thank her for lending them. There's a lesson to be learned in this somewhere. I think I know what it is.
It was drizzling and there was a breeze at our backs as we made our way across the bridge. I ordered a latte with a shot of almond, extra hot because by the time the coffee makes it across the wind tunnel that is known as the Osborne Street Bridge it's usually just the right temperature for ultimate enjoyment.
As we headed back we noticed the breeze was more in the range of gale force winds directly from the north. The wind, in combination with the shoes had me shuffling along like a two-toed sloth. My neon green umbrella, held at a 45 degree angle in front of me, acted as a hazard sign to on coming pedestrians. Just as we passed the Shell station my left ankle rolled and a string of expletives fell out of my mouth. As my faithful readers know, I never curse. My mouth is so clean I could wash my hands in it (I think that metaphor sounded better in my head). I don't know if Abi and Joanna heard me, but they did stop and turn around to see me standing there in the rain with latte splatter on my pants, jacket, dripping off my hand; my umbrella turned inside out; sniffing because my nose is no longer stuffy but running constantly; and, as Abi described it, displaying the saddest look you ever saw on my sweet little face. I think the first thing I did was look at my right hand which was carrying my wallet and realized with grand disappointment that I didn't have my camera with me so I couldn't get someone to take a picture for the blog (if I was going to have to own the experience I at least wanted to share as much of it with the world as possible). Abi ran and grabbed me a stack of napkins from the gas station convenience store (it lived up to its name!). I am now back and mostly dry. I returned Hollene's shoes and left her a sticky note on them to thank her for lending them. There's a lesson to be learned in this somewhere. I think I know what it is.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Jillian the Villain
I've been at Good Wooden Leg for a year and a half now. My past experiences taught me that building a good relationship with the graphic designers will make life a lot easier. Not to mention that they are usually fun, cool people. I did everything I could to get the designers to accept me, embrace me. I gave them flexible deadlines.I listened to them when they told me my client's idea of design wouldn't hold up in a kindergarten art class. I fed them chocolate. I took their "gentle" teasing and even supplied them with endless fodder for mockery. Nevertheless, while I could sometimes enjoy a brief stay in Artshoppe land, it was always cut short by Tracy sternly directing me out with her pointing finger and laser beam eyes.
And then along came George. George joined my team a few weeks ago. There wasn't an empty cube in the writers' area of the department so they gave him one on a nearly empty row behind the Artshoppe. I like George. He's a cool guy. Funny and self-deprecating. The Artshoppe likes him too. Apparently they like him a lot.
Yesterday Abi was feeling frustrated. Too many people were asking too many things of her. I admit, I had many many projects on her plate. I guess I had one too many.
"I want a pony!" she said to Chris, one of the senior designers.
I laughed to myself upon overhearing this. I remembered the I want a Pony site that the Google guys showed me last summer. I sent it to Abi to make her laugh. And she did.
This morning I opened an e-mail from George addressed to me and Abi.
Abi dropped by my cube soon after.
"Look!" she said and proudly held out a small, purple My Little Pony with a pink mane and star shaped comb. "I named him Pantone." And then she added, "George is my new favourite designer."
And just like that, a little flame inside of me was snuffed out. George had officially moved in and I had been swept aside into the pile with the other demanding, unforgiving, unrelenting writers. The Artshoppe Mascot I would never be.
Another e-mail arrived.
-----Original Message-----
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 10:01 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: RE: Horrible, Horrible Jill
See, isn't it nice to have a pony? Jill would not have given you a pony. If Jill ruled the world, not only would no one have ponies, there would be no ponies. None. At all. A world without ponies. Ruled by Jill.
We must do what we can to prevent Jill's plans for pony-less world domination.
Around 11 I walked over to Abi's cube. I needed a break and thought I'd stop by to see how she and Pantone were getting along. But when I got there, Abi was not in.
There sat Pantone in all his purple and pink glory on Abi's desk beside her glowing Mac monitor. On the other side were her headphones, resting in a heap of their own serpentine cord.
I'm not sure what exactly came over me at that moment. Maybe it had to do with the coffee machine that took my last 75 cents that morning but did not dispense coffee. Maybe it was the bug taking up residence in my nose, or maybe it was just that taunting smile on Pantone's face that made me do it. I left Abi's cube hardly able to hide the smile.
Not long after, a new headline appeared on the e-mail
Despite George firmly pointing the finger of blame in my direction, Abi had no idea who had committed the crime.
"Jillian! YOU HUNG PANTONE!?!?"
Abi then sent out a mass e-mail apologizing to everyone she accused of hanging her pony and held me up as the culprit. George then announced that I and my evil anti-pony agenda had to be stopped. He declared a Jill Jihad, or, a Jill-had for short.
And that is how I fell from grace at Good Wooden Leg to become Jillian the Villain.
And then along came George. George joined my team a few weeks ago. There wasn't an empty cube in the writers' area of the department so they gave him one on a nearly empty row behind the Artshoppe. I like George. He's a cool guy. Funny and self-deprecating. The Artshoppe likes him too. Apparently they like him a lot.
Yesterday Abi was feeling frustrated. Too many people were asking too many things of her. I admit, I had many many projects on her plate. I guess I had one too many.
"I want a pony!" she said to Chris, one of the senior designers.
I laughed to myself upon overhearing this. I remembered the I want a Pony site that the Google guys showed me last summer. I sent it to Abi to make her laugh. And she did.
This morning I opened an e-mail from George addressed to me and Abi.
-----Original Message-----
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 10:01 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: Horrible, Horrible Jill
…would never let you have a pony.
I, however, honour my promises.
Abi dropped by my cube soon after.
"Look!" she said and proudly held out a small, purple My Little Pony with a pink mane and star shaped comb. "I named him Pantone." And then she added, "George is my new favourite designer."
And just like that, a little flame inside of me was snuffed out. George had officially moved in and I had been swept aside into the pile with the other demanding, unforgiving, unrelenting writers. The Artshoppe Mascot I would never be.
Another e-mail arrived.
-----Original Message-----
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 10:01 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: RE: Horrible, Horrible Jill
See, isn't it nice to have a pony? Jill would not have given you a pony. If Jill ruled the world, not only would no one have ponies, there would be no ponies. None. At all. A world without ponies. Ruled by Jill.
We must do what we can to prevent Jill's plans for pony-less world domination.
Around 11 I walked over to Abi's cube. I needed a break and thought I'd stop by to see how she and Pantone were getting along. But when I got there, Abi was not in.
There sat Pantone in all his purple and pink glory on Abi's desk beside her glowing Mac monitor. On the other side were her headphones, resting in a heap of their own serpentine cord.
I'm not sure what exactly came over me at that moment. Maybe it had to do with the coffee machine that took my last 75 cents that morning but did not dispense coffee. Maybe it was the bug taking up residence in my nose, or maybe it was just that taunting smile on Pantone's face that made me do it. I left Abi's cube hardly able to hide the smile.
Not long after, a new headline appeared on the e-mail
-----Original Message-----It would seem that someone had hung Pantone Pony from the top of Abi's monitor using a noose fashioned with her headphones. George swore that Pantone's hanging would be avenged. Abi was distraught and couldn't imagine who would do such a thing. But George knew. Another e-mail followed.
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 11:16 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: Horrible, Horrible Jill
A hate crime has been committed on Pantone Pony. Jill's quest for global control takes an ugly turn?
-----Original Message-----Clementine is what Abi calls Truck despite my loud protests that his name IS NOT CLEMENTINE!
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 11:27 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: Horrible, Horrible Jill
Well then we must strike back at something that Jill loves just as much. Let's see, what could that be...
Got it.
"Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling CLEMENTINE!"
Despite George firmly pointing the finger of blame in my direction, Abi had no idea who had committed the crime.
-----Original Message-----Upon reading this I cracked up. Gus naturally would have had no idea what Abi was talking about never mind whether or not to take her question literally or as some kind of euphemism for well, I'll let you use your own imagination. I laughed out loud. Kat asked what all my noise was about and I replied, "I hung Abi's pony." My timing could not have been better, or worse, as the words escaped just as Abi was approaching my cube.
From: Abigail
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 11:27 AM
To: Jill
Subject: I'm all sorts of crazy
I just asked Gus if he hung my pony.
"Jillian! YOU HUNG PANTONE!?!?"
Abi then sent out a mass e-mail apologizing to everyone she accused of hanging her pony and held me up as the culprit. George then announced that I and my evil anti-pony agenda had to be stopped. He declared a Jill Jihad, or, a Jill-had for short.
And that is how I fell from grace at Good Wooden Leg to become Jillian the Villain.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
I'mb naught [sic]
I'm not sick. This is what I keep telling people. I'm fine. Maybe, possibly, some few days ago I was afflicted with some kind of bug but presently I am at worst, recovering from a temporary dysfunction of the sinuses. I'mb naught sick.
"You sound sick," Amara said to me this afternoon. Kat agreed.
"No! I'mb better now! It no longer feels like I'm inhaling razor blades whenever I breathe. I've actually improved dramatically since this morning!"
Abby told me this morning to go home. Not so much because she cares, but because I hand her a lot of work these days and she doesn't want me to add a file folder of pneumonia to her work load. She was probably right, I shouldn't try to be a hero. I'm not good at being sick though. I wasn't tired or anything so I would have had to sit at home on the couch watching gawd awful daytime television while surrounded by a mountain of Kleenex. I did try to avoid making any phone calls today though because my voice sounds pretty funny.
Last night I tried to sleep sitting up so I could sort of breathe. I also put a dab of Vicks in my nose, which burned more than helped. I had some pretty weird dreams too. I talked to Michael Buble in a bathroom and I think I went snow tubing with George Stromboulopoulos. See, I'mb naught sick. I'm on acid, or whatever Vicks is made of.
Actually, aside from this stupid nose running/stuffing thing, the day was pretty good. The Shoe of the Day on my page-a-day calendar was a pretty pink sandal; I was randomly added by some interesting guy on Facebook; the vending machine guy gave me a free bag of chips; a lady complimented me on my shoes while I was at the photocopier; I made the early bus home; I found a new, shiny penny on the ground after I got off the bus; and I got my income taxes refund in the mail today. I'm telling you, I'mb feeling too habby to be sick!*
*Unless somebody would like to buy me ice cream to make me feel better ;)
"You sound sick," Amara said to me this afternoon. Kat agreed.
"No! I'mb better now! It no longer feels like I'm inhaling razor blades whenever I breathe. I've actually improved dramatically since this morning!"
Abby told me this morning to go home. Not so much because she cares, but because I hand her a lot of work these days and she doesn't want me to add a file folder of pneumonia to her work load. She was probably right, I shouldn't try to be a hero. I'm not good at being sick though. I wasn't tired or anything so I would have had to sit at home on the couch watching gawd awful daytime television while surrounded by a mountain of Kleenex. I did try to avoid making any phone calls today though because my voice sounds pretty funny.
Last night I tried to sleep sitting up so I could sort of breathe. I also put a dab of Vicks in my nose, which burned more than helped. I had some pretty weird dreams too. I talked to Michael Buble in a bathroom and I think I went snow tubing with George Stromboulopoulos. See, I'mb naught sick. I'm on acid, or whatever Vicks is made of.
Actually, aside from this stupid nose running/stuffing thing, the day was pretty good. The Shoe of the Day on my page-a-day calendar was a pretty pink sandal; I was randomly added by some interesting guy on Facebook; the vending machine guy gave me a free bag of chips; a lady complimented me on my shoes while I was at the photocopier; I made the early bus home; I found a new, shiny penny on the ground after I got off the bus; and I got my income taxes refund in the mail today. I'm telling you, I'mb feeling too habby to be sick!*
*Unless somebody would like to buy me ice cream to make me feel better ;)
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Let's not wait till the water runs dry
I know it hasn't been story time since I was in the center of the universe last week. I did make it home, for those of you who have been wondering. It was a small miracle I suppose, given that apparently Air Canada had a rash of mechanical problems that week. The trip home was good and uneventful. Actually, it was down right enjoyable. For two and a half hours I was suspended between all the good memories of the trip and all the good feelings of returning home. It was the same happy feeling I have on a Saturday morning when I wake up from some wonderful dream but know that I can stay in bed for a little longer before I need to start my day.The rain arrived on Friday and stuck around pretty much the whole weekend. On Thursday I had decided to visit the library in search of some contemporary non-fiction. I didn't care about the topic--politics, environmental issues, important personalities--I just wanted to get lost in a well researched yet well explained argument. It's something I haven't done by choice well, perhaps ever. I picked up a book on the world water crisis as well as one on the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. I started the water book on Thursday, put it down for a while because it had a terribly dry(ha ha) start, but picked it up again on Saturday and haven't put it down much since. Reading about a water crisis while being confined to the indoors because of a downpour is an interesting predicament. (I have been singing Boys II Men Water Runs Dry for the past three days.)
On Saturday afternoon I was checking my e-mail when I noticed someone online who I haven't talked to in quite some time. I stared at the little green light beside his name for a while. Do I say hi? If I do, what do I say next? Do I have any interesting news? What would he find interesting anyway? What on earth do we have in common anymore? I was just about to open a chat window when he beat me to it. "Meep." he said, just like old times. I still fumbled through the conversation, searching for the right thing to say that would keep the moment going, afraid to say the wrong thing that would lead to a dead silence and one of us giving in by saying, "well, I should get going". It was an annoying, awkward, stressful, short conversation but a definite highlight of the weekend. I spend my whole life surrounding myself with people who make me feel comfortable. There's something I find enticing about being in the company of this person who is interesting yet makes me feel like I'm constantly trying to do a handstand on a tightrope in my pajamas.
Since then I've spent my free waking hours reading my book outside in the warm sweet sunshine, only stopping to watch of course, The Hour (and write this blog, which was hard to do knowing that there was still a good hour left of sun to catch, but alas, I have missed my audience.) There will be many stories to tell soon, but until then I may not check in with much frequency. I'm outside soaking in the sun. I suggest you go do the same.
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