Today Amara and I trekked down to the river trail at lunch with skates in tow. It was a beautiful sunny day in the city and it felt good to get out and away from the office.
According to the map, we skated about 3.5 Km. The trail was pretty good--a bit bumpy in places, snow covered in others, but well maintained.
On the way back we met up with the flooding tractor--a guy driving a John Deer with a water tank and some dude sitting on the back. Amara skillfully skated around him. I tried. I navigated to the right, got caught up in the non ice part and tripped, smashing my left knee into the ice, again. The dude on the back of the John Deer just stared blankly at me. I think I growled. With my knee stinging, and a bit of exhaustion starting to get to me, I tried again and again to get around. Finally, I made the pass. Unfortunately, my skate lace had come loose after the fall so with every glide, it felt like my skate was going to fall off. I couldn't stop though. I was almost back to the start and Amara was already far ahead of me. I made it back okay, but my knee was pretty sore for the afternoon and turned a lot of ugly colours.
That is only a small excerpt of what was a very wonderful day for me. The best parts I can't really put into words. Today I was glowing again. Things are good.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
The moment the light goes on
I brought my skates with me to work today, along with the intention of going for a skate down the river trail at lunch. It didn't happen. I stayed at my desk for lunch. I did find a nifty map of the trail online though, which shows that it goes as far west as Omand's Creek. I then got the brilliant idea in my head that maybe I could skate (part way) home. Wouldn't that be cool? Then I remembered all the stuff I haul to work.
In my "vintage" Gap messenger bag I carry:
On another note, I had another super fun conversation today with the bank that owns my house. My mom told me the bank called her house looking for me last week. She took down a name and number I was supposed to call. I phoned the 1-800 number only to be told that I needed to contact my local branch to discuss an "expiring overdraft". A WHAT? I don't even use that account! So I called them up, they couldn't find me in their records. They never can find me. Finally, I was located as a customer and told that the call was probably about nothing important. There were no notes on my file or anything, it was probably just a reminder about RRSPs. I begged to differ as it sounded, as per the discussion I had with the 1-800 girl, that there was about $76 worth of reasons why this was something "important".
"Ohhh," the branch girl said. "I see now, there is a note about an overdraft on your account for service fees."
"They told me when I opened the account that there would be no fees for the first year."
I had originally opened the account when I got my mortgage because I was naive and didn't realize I could still keep my old account at another institution and set up the automatic payment from there. I didn't close the account right away because I had to leave it open for 90 days or pay a fee. I eventually just forgot about it.
Branch Girl did some checking around, couldn't find the person I had opened the account with, then came back to the phone to tell me, yeah, I was probably right and that she would credit me the charge.
This is about the third or fourth issue I've had with them. I don't even know if I trust that they will be able close my account without screwing that up too. What a joke.
In my "vintage" Gap messenger bag I carry:
- Wallet
- Camera
- ID tag
- Bus pass
- Keys
- MP3 player
- Teabags (3) (because you never know when you may find yourself stranded with nothing but hot water and a mug and then won't you be glad you have three teabags to steep)
- Tylenol
- Tide-to-Go pen
- Lip balm
- Gum (I pretty much never chew gum, but I like to be helpful when someone else needs a piece)
- Boots/shoes I wear inside (plus, if I was skating I would also have to carry the shoes I wore outside)
- Lunch
On another note, I had another super fun conversation today with the bank that owns my house. My mom told me the bank called her house looking for me last week. She took down a name and number I was supposed to call. I phoned the 1-800 number only to be told that I needed to contact my local branch to discuss an "expiring overdraft". A WHAT? I don't even use that account! So I called them up, they couldn't find me in their records. They never can find me. Finally, I was located as a customer and told that the call was probably about nothing important. There were no notes on my file or anything, it was probably just a reminder about RRSPs. I begged to differ as it sounded, as per the discussion I had with the 1-800 girl, that there was about $76 worth of reasons why this was something "important".
"Ohhh," the branch girl said. "I see now, there is a note about an overdraft on your account for service fees."
"They told me when I opened the account that there would be no fees for the first year."
I had originally opened the account when I got my mortgage because I was naive and didn't realize I could still keep my old account at another institution and set up the automatic payment from there. I didn't close the account right away because I had to leave it open for 90 days or pay a fee. I eventually just forgot about it.
Branch Girl did some checking around, couldn't find the person I had opened the account with, then came back to the phone to tell me, yeah, I was probably right and that she would credit me the charge.
This is about the third or fourth issue I've had with them. I don't even know if I trust that they will be able close my account without screwing that up too. What a joke.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Shuffle repeat
Well all have our vices. We deal with stress and loneliness in different ways. Some people drink. Me, I do music.
I was not having the greatest morning yesterday. It was a work thing. I was frustrated. Usually at lunch I go down to the cafeteria with the same group of people but that afternoon I just wanted to get out and find something to take the edge off.
It was sunny and the cold was tolerable. I walked down Osborne over the bridge, past the liquormart, past the Starbucks and right into Music Traders.
I was hoping they'd be playing some angry rock medley to match my mood. But no. It was folk music. Blech.
I browsed around and finally found something that looked appealing. Two somethings actually. I got Timberland's Shock Value, which was kind of odd because it's not my typical taste but there was some stuff on there that appealed to me. I had always meant to pick up the Hinder disc--I really do love that generic radio friendly rock stuff (is it the merlot of music?)--and as soon as I spotted it I knew it was what I was in the mood for.
I don't think I was lied to. I think I believed there was more to it all and then eventually I saw things for what they really were. And no, I'm not just talking about some dumb guy. The point is, I can do better, and sticking around with something, someone, some place that breaks my spirit does nobody any favours. Still, a part of me keeps hoping things will suddenly change. That never works.
I'm tryin' man. Something's gotta give sometime.
I was not having the greatest morning yesterday. It was a work thing. I was frustrated. Usually at lunch I go down to the cafeteria with the same group of people but that afternoon I just wanted to get out and find something to take the edge off.
It was sunny and the cold was tolerable. I walked down Osborne over the bridge, past the liquormart, past the Starbucks and right into Music Traders.
I was hoping they'd be playing some angry rock medley to match my mood. But no. It was folk music. Blech.
I browsed around and finally found something that looked appealing. Two somethings actually. I got Timberland's Shock Value, which was kind of odd because it's not my typical taste but there was some stuff on there that appealed to me. I had always meant to pick up the Hinder disc--I really do love that generic radio friendly rock stuff (is it the merlot of music?)--and as soon as I spotted it I knew it was what I was in the mood for.
I think you can do much better than me
After all the lies that I made you believe
--Hinder, Better Than Me
I don't think I was lied to. I think I believed there was more to it all and then eventually I saw things for what they really were. And no, I'm not just talking about some dumb guy. The point is, I can do better, and sticking around with something, someone, some place that breaks my spirit does nobody any favours. Still, a part of me keeps hoping things will suddenly change. That never works.
Be the change you want to see in the world
--Mahatma Gandhi
I'm tryin' man. Something's gotta give sometime.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Total Eclipse of the Heart
Timing is everything.
Today at work someone had a pass to see a screening of Penelope. Lisa and I have been anxious to see that show since we started a James McAvoy fan club. For whatever reason, the movie kept getting delayed for release. I wasn't the first one offered the pass, but the other people couldn't go, so I lucked out.
Going to the movie meant having to leave pilates early and book it down to the theatre for 7 p.m. Of course, there was a water main break which meant a long and twisted detour. Slow drivers, a cyclist, and bad luck with lights meant I didn't get to the theatre until ten to. I was afraid we were going to be out of luck. I had made arrangements with Lisa to leave the pass with her so she could get the tickets and grab us some seats. Lucky us, she got us a prime view, top and center.
James McAvoy was delicious. Oh, and the movie itself was delightful and cute. Funny too.
As we left the theatre I looked up and noticed the moon. I had forgotten all about the eclipse tonight. It was about 3/4 covered at 8:30. I hurried home so I could stand outside and watch the rest of the show.
I parked Truck, stood on my driveway, and looked up. The skies were perfectly clear. We've been cursing this cold weather system that has stalled over the province for weeks now, but if not for the high pressure, the skies would have been cloudy and the spectacle not visible. Beside the beautiful red moon, I could also see Orion, Queen Cassiopeia, and a bunch of other constellations that I knew were there, but couldn't remember the names or locations of.
I first decided that I wanted to wait and see the moon get fully covered. It was nearly there and moving along quickly. So I watched with great fascination as the shadow completely covered the bright, almost full moon. It was awesome. It was also awesomely cold out. Nevertheless, I decided that I want to stay out there until I can see the shadow move to the other side. The full coverage came quickly, surely it wouldn't take long for a sliver of the other side to show again.
There was a -39 degree windchill but I was determined not to let the cold get to me. It was going to be my lesson in stamina and patience. I would focus on the beautiful moon, the grand opportunity to watch this event in my very own driveway, and I would not think about how much my toes were hurting or my legs were shaking or my nose falling off.
I think I stood out there for at least 30 minutes. I wanted to give up. I let my mind wander and thought about other things I was holding out for. I told myself that if I could handle this, I could surely find the patience for anything. I was also thinking of this blog post. It got to the point that I couldn't tell if it was wishful thinking that I was seeing the light on the other side or if it was finally starting to show. I don't know if I gave up, just decided that I wasn't hallucinating, or if I was actually seeing the light, but I did decide to turn and head in, finally. It took forever to unlock the door.
I don't think I realized how cold (and crazy) I was until I was inside. I'm not sure what that part of the experience meant. I mean, was it really worth it? I could have just watched the whole thing from the comfort of my kitchen window, like a normal person would. Why on Earth did I do it the hard way?
Sigh. I did it for the story. I'm such a nutter.
Today at work someone had a pass to see a screening of Penelope. Lisa and I have been anxious to see that show since we started a James McAvoy fan club. For whatever reason, the movie kept getting delayed for release. I wasn't the first one offered the pass, but the other people couldn't go, so I lucked out.
Going to the movie meant having to leave pilates early and book it down to the theatre for 7 p.m. Of course, there was a water main break which meant a long and twisted detour. Slow drivers, a cyclist, and bad luck with lights meant I didn't get to the theatre until ten to. I was afraid we were going to be out of luck. I had made arrangements with Lisa to leave the pass with her so she could get the tickets and grab us some seats. Lucky us, she got us a prime view, top and center.
James McAvoy was delicious. Oh, and the movie itself was delightful and cute. Funny too.
As we left the theatre I looked up and noticed the moon. I had forgotten all about the eclipse tonight. It was about 3/4 covered at 8:30. I hurried home so I could stand outside and watch the rest of the show.
I parked Truck, stood on my driveway, and looked up. The skies were perfectly clear. We've been cursing this cold weather system that has stalled over the province for weeks now, but if not for the high pressure, the skies would have been cloudy and the spectacle not visible. Beside the beautiful red moon, I could also see Orion, Queen Cassiopeia, and a bunch of other constellations that I knew were there, but couldn't remember the names or locations of.
I first decided that I wanted to wait and see the moon get fully covered. It was nearly there and moving along quickly. So I watched with great fascination as the shadow completely covered the bright, almost full moon. It was awesome. It was also awesomely cold out. Nevertheless, I decided that I want to stay out there until I can see the shadow move to the other side. The full coverage came quickly, surely it wouldn't take long for a sliver of the other side to show again.
There was a -39 degree windchill but I was determined not to let the cold get to me. It was going to be my lesson in stamina and patience. I would focus on the beautiful moon, the grand opportunity to watch this event in my very own driveway, and I would not think about how much my toes were hurting or my legs were shaking or my nose falling off.
I think I stood out there for at least 30 minutes. I wanted to give up. I let my mind wander and thought about other things I was holding out for. I told myself that if I could handle this, I could surely find the patience for anything. I was also thinking of this blog post. It got to the point that I couldn't tell if it was wishful thinking that I was seeing the light on the other side or if it was finally starting to show. I don't know if I gave up, just decided that I wasn't hallucinating, or if I was actually seeing the light, but I did decide to turn and head in, finally. It took forever to unlock the door.
I don't think I realized how cold (and crazy) I was until I was inside. I'm not sure what that part of the experience meant. I mean, was it really worth it? I could have just watched the whole thing from the comfort of my kitchen window, like a normal person would. Why on Earth did I do it the hard way?
Sigh. I did it for the story. I'm such a nutter.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Vancouver 2010 here I come
On the weekend Lisa and I were talking about our lack of natural abilities for sports. I try not to let that get in the way of trying something for fun, but I can imagine that the fun factor comes in a lot sooner when you can try something out and get the hang of it on the first, second or even third try.
I think I found my sport. It's snow drift hurdling. It's a timed race that requires you to sprint and hop drifts for various distances. The twist is you are also carrying a large, heavy recycling box, and/or bag of garbage. The attire is yellow, flannel pants, often with a large, fun print such as penguins. Mitts and jackets are for training only. Oh, and yes, this is definitely a spectator friendly sport.
Don't ask me where I come up with this stuff.
for Kasia. Happy morning.
I think I found my sport. It's snow drift hurdling. It's a timed race that requires you to sprint and hop drifts for various distances. The twist is you are also carrying a large, heavy recycling box, and/or bag of garbage. The attire is yellow, flannel pants, often with a large, fun print such as penguins. Mitts and jackets are for training only. Oh, and yes, this is definitely a spectator friendly sport.
Don't ask me where I come up with this stuff.
for Kasia. Happy morning.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Rerun
I have this thing about not feeling good about leaving my blog on a post I did when I was sad or bugged about something. I don't have a cute or funny story to tell tonight though that will bump the last post out of top spot. I'm honestly just kind of worn out and blah at the moment. I was thinking today about a poem I wrote and posted here. If I do say so myself, it's one of my favourite things I've ever created. I think about it when I need someone to tell me that things are okay and they will turn out and I'm doing the right thing. Excuse me now while I go give myself a pep talk.
The original post is here.
Don't cry my darling
Just put those tears away
You're stronger than you know
And getting stronger every day
You've walked a long cold mile
In shoes too big for your feet
Just close your eyes and rest now
Proud you followed your heartbeat
Don't look at the stars for answers
Or down at the ground in despair
The hero in every battle
Learns that life is never fair
Don't cry my darling
Though your body and soul grow weary
I promise that soon you will be dancing
And your future will shine quite clearly
My darling
My darling
Your future will shine quite clearly
The original post is here.
Don't cry my darling
Just put those tears away
You're stronger than you know
And getting stronger every day
You've walked a long cold mile
In shoes too big for your feet
Just close your eyes and rest now
Proud you followed your heartbeat
Don't look at the stars for answers
Or down at the ground in despair
The hero in every battle
Learns that life is never fair
Don't cry my darling
Though your body and soul grow weary
I promise that soon you will be dancing
And your future will shine quite clearly
My darling
My darling
Your future will shine quite clearly
Sunday, February 17, 2008
You're so vain. You probably think this post is about you.
Jill: Why do people [who have my e-mail/phone number/offline access to me] read my blog but don't ever talk to me?
Vince: They want to see if you write about them.
Really? Vanity? Is that what it is? Tell me no. Tell me you're better than that. I just don't (want to) believe that is true.
I look at my stats once in a while to see how people get to this place. There are always funny ones. Like, I get a lot of traffic from people googling "foxy boxing" because I used the term once, here. I also get hits from people looking for Carmen San Diego, Jeannie's Cake, and "girl wet pants story". People are weird.
At least most of my hits come from people googling "(a) jill story" or "jill b@rr0tt", although people searching for me by name kind of concerns me. I mean, who's out there looking for me anyway? I try to carefully maintain some anonymity with anyone I meet on the Internet because as soon as they have my name, I know they can google me and find all sorts of goodies.
I am kind of interested in knowing who reads this thing. I'm a writer, I have an ego. So if you do read, or if you just got here because you googled "foxy boxing in San Diego", please leave a comment and say hi. You can keep your anonymity if you wish, but geeze, you know (or have the potential of knowing, if you poke around enough) everything about me from my shoe size to the color of my bedroom, it would be a fair trade if you'd give me some indication as to who you are. Especially if you're one of those "wet pants girl" people. Then again, maybe not...
I really do appreciate those who do read regularly. It's very nice of you. I try to keep things interesting for you.
Thanks for dropping by!
Feb-17-08
This was my day, for those who care to know. It was lovely.
10:00 a.m.--slept in. Usually on Sunday mornings I am out the door at 10 a.m. for Pilates. We decided to take the weekend off in honour of the holiday Monday. Staying in bed late was luxuriously grand.
11:00 a.m.--made perfect pancakes for breakfast and watched Three's Company.
12:30 p.m.--drove to Mom's and Dad's, talked to Elmo, ate a fresh baked Mom cookie, and then headed out to pick up Lisa for the Manitoba Moose hockey game.
1:20 p.m.--arrived at Lisa's, went to call her to let her know I was parked out front. Looked through purse and could not find cell phone. Note to readers who do not know me: I am terrible with cell phones. I don't notice when my phone is ringing, I forget to take it with me, I forget to plug it in when it's dead. I thought I'd get better at it when I moved out and went to using only a cell phone and no land line. Not so much. So I buzzed Lisa to let her know I was there. As we walked back to Truck, I reached into my pocket to pull out my keys, and found my cell. Oye.
1:45 or something p.m.--I hate parking.
2:00 p.m.--There is a reason why these tickets were free. I checked online before I left to get an idea of where our seats were. We apparently didn't have the cheapest seats in the place, but now I am wondering where you get to sit for only $13 because for $23 you are in the upperdeck. If you were at the game today and you looked up and wondered who on earth the crazy shmucks were that were sitting in the upperdeck area while the lower arena bowl was not sold out, hi! Crazy! Right here! Ah well. It was a good game. We totally smoked those baby leafs.
Aww, I want a TimBit...
5:00 p.m. --watched the end of the Daytona 500. Jeff went into the garage before the race was done. Boo.
8:00 p.m.--watched Never Been Kissed on the W Network with glass of red wine in hand. No phone call from a boy this time. Boo.
10:35 p.m. Home. Talking to Vince and blogging. Technically, I could still be parked downtown because I am paid up until 7 a.m. tomorrow. Should I get the urge to go for a midnight skate or something, this could be useful.
10:00 a.m.--slept in. Usually on Sunday mornings I am out the door at 10 a.m. for Pilates. We decided to take the weekend off in honour of the holiday Monday. Staying in bed late was luxuriously grand.
11:00 a.m.--made perfect pancakes for breakfast and watched Three's Company.
12:30 p.m.--drove to Mom's and Dad's, talked to Elmo, ate a fresh baked Mom cookie, and then headed out to pick up Lisa for the Manitoba Moose hockey game.
1:20 p.m.--arrived at Lisa's, went to call her to let her know I was parked out front. Looked through purse and could not find cell phone. Note to readers who do not know me: I am terrible with cell phones. I don't notice when my phone is ringing, I forget to take it with me, I forget to plug it in when it's dead. I thought I'd get better at it when I moved out and went to using only a cell phone and no land line. Not so much. So I buzzed Lisa to let her know I was there. As we walked back to Truck, I reached into my pocket to pull out my keys, and found my cell. Oye.
1:45 or something p.m.--I hate parking.
2:00 p.m.--There is a reason why these tickets were free. I checked online before I left to get an idea of where our seats were. We apparently didn't have the cheapest seats in the place, but now I am wondering where you get to sit for only $13 because for $23 you are in the upperdeck. If you were at the game today and you looked up and wondered who on earth the crazy shmucks were that were sitting in the upperdeck area while the lower arena bowl was not sold out, hi! Crazy! Right here! Ah well. It was a good game. We totally smoked those baby leafs.
Aww, I want a TimBit...
5:00 p.m. --watched the end of the Daytona 500. Jeff went into the garage before the race was done. Boo.
8:00 p.m.--watched Never Been Kissed on the W Network with glass of red wine in hand. No phone call from a boy this time. Boo.
10:35 p.m. Home. Talking to Vince and blogging. Technically, I could still be parked downtown because I am paid up until 7 a.m. tomorrow. Should I get the urge to go for a midnight skate or something, this could be useful.
Friday, February 15, 2008
I will remember you
How many times have you wished that someone would think of you? That they would think of you and somehow you would know it? I've spent too much time wishing someone (many different someones) would remember me. It's not a very productive way to spend a wish.
Yesterday I came home and prepared a hearty Ratatouille to share with Lisa. It turned out well, I was pleased. After that we watched Becoming Jane. I didn't enjoy it as much the second time around. Maybe I wasn't in the right mood for it. When does a love/hate story not do it for me though?
After Lisa left I cleaned up a bit, took a long, hot shower and crawled into bed. I surrounded myself with Mac, a good book, and my Penguin friend (who has his own boy story history, of course). The internet was kind of quiet. I checked my mail and saw that one of my favourite cousins, lonely, and likely on his way to getting drunk, had dropped me a line. Poor guy. I started to write him back when I heard my phone ring. I couldn't find it quite fast enough but I saw that it was my sister who called. I dialed her right back.
She asked me what I was up to, if I was in bed yet.
"Yeah," I said.
"Oh, okay then." She was on her way home from visiting my Aunt and Grandma. She said her friends were all busy or had to work the next day. I sensed something was up.
"Do you want to pop over for a bit?"
"Sure."
"Kay. But I'm not leaving my bed and you have to let yourself in."
"I think I can handle that."
About 1o minutes later I heard the door open. She came into my room, pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and climbed in. She started to chat and complain about a sore neck but I could see her eyes were red and watery. I didn't ask. I just reached over, grabbed the box of Kleenex and placed it in front of her. She's a pretty private girl when it comes to certain topics. I wasn't really sure if I should ask anyway though. Instead I offered her a glass of wine.
"You mean you'll get out of bed and get it for me even?"
"Of course I will," I said, already making my way to the kitchen.
I poured the red wine into my favourite tea mug. It just seemed more appropriate for drinking in bed than a big fancy glass. More comforting. She didn't mind.
We continued to chat and look stuff up on the internet. She showed me the houses online she's been dreaming of. We tried to determine if her sore neck was due to meningitis or just tight muscles. Stress didn't seem to occur to her as a possible source despite the Kleenex clenched in her fist and the smudges of make up around her eyes. She's the medical professional though.
I stifled my yawns not wanting her to worry about the time. Aside from whatever it was that had brought her there, I was enjoying the moment. Once in a while she lets me be a big sister and look after her. It's nice.
Around 11:30 she got a call from a friend and suddenly had plans. The moment was over. She was smiling again as she said goodbye before letting herself out. My day was done.
I closed my eyes and thought of all the people who had thought of me that day, and all the the people who had me wondering if I might have crossed their minds. I did not make any wishes to the close and holy darkness but instead rested on the peace that came from knowing that the important people, the good people, will always come back and remember you.
Yesterday I came home and prepared a hearty Ratatouille to share with Lisa. It turned out well, I was pleased. After that we watched Becoming Jane. I didn't enjoy it as much the second time around. Maybe I wasn't in the right mood for it. When does a love/hate story not do it for me though?
After Lisa left I cleaned up a bit, took a long, hot shower and crawled into bed. I surrounded myself with Mac, a good book, and my Penguin friend (who has his own boy story history, of course). The internet was kind of quiet. I checked my mail and saw that one of my favourite cousins, lonely, and likely on his way to getting drunk, had dropped me a line. Poor guy. I started to write him back when I heard my phone ring. I couldn't find it quite fast enough but I saw that it was my sister who called. I dialed her right back.
She asked me what I was up to, if I was in bed yet.
"Yeah," I said.
"Oh, okay then." She was on her way home from visiting my Aunt and Grandma. She said her friends were all busy or had to work the next day. I sensed something was up.
"Do you want to pop over for a bit?"
"Sure."
"Kay. But I'm not leaving my bed and you have to let yourself in."
"I think I can handle that."
About 1o minutes later I heard the door open. She came into my room, pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and climbed in. She started to chat and complain about a sore neck but I could see her eyes were red and watery. I didn't ask. I just reached over, grabbed the box of Kleenex and placed it in front of her. She's a pretty private girl when it comes to certain topics. I wasn't really sure if I should ask anyway though. Instead I offered her a glass of wine.
"You mean you'll get out of bed and get it for me even?"
"Of course I will," I said, already making my way to the kitchen.
I poured the red wine into my favourite tea mug. It just seemed more appropriate for drinking in bed than a big fancy glass. More comforting. She didn't mind.
We continued to chat and look stuff up on the internet. She showed me the houses online she's been dreaming of. We tried to determine if her sore neck was due to meningitis or just tight muscles. Stress didn't seem to occur to her as a possible source despite the Kleenex clenched in her fist and the smudges of make up around her eyes. She's the medical professional though.
I stifled my yawns not wanting her to worry about the time. Aside from whatever it was that had brought her there, I was enjoying the moment. Once in a while she lets me be a big sister and look after her. It's nice.
Around 11:30 she got a call from a friend and suddenly had plans. The moment was over. She was smiling again as she said goodbye before letting herself out. My day was done.
I closed my eyes and thought of all the people who had thought of me that day, and all the the people who had me wondering if I might have crossed their minds. I did not make any wishes to the close and holy darkness but instead rested on the peace that came from knowing that the important people, the good people, will always come back and remember you.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I heart BP
At work, Michael bought one of those hearts on Monday after noticing I was taking up a fine collection of them in my cube.
“Look, I even got it signed by Brad Pitt,” he said and pointed proudly to the “BP” insignia printed on the paper heart. My inside-of-the-box way of thinking always just took for granted that BP stood for Boston Pizza, the sponsor of the program.
Mr. Brad Pitt is not the only person who can claim to be my paramour, however. There are many other renowned BPs. Here is the list so far. If you can think of any more, feel free to let me know.
Brad Pitt
Brad Paisley
Bronson Pinchot
Bob Powell
Bill Paxton
Bill Pullman
Billie Piper
Billy Preston
Bernadette Peters
Bernie Parent
Bonnie Pointer
Bobby (Boris) Pickett
Beatrix Potter
Barry Pepper
Bob Pincciotti
Buster Poindexter
Baden Powell
Butch Patrick
Bert Parks
Bijou Phillips
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Oops I did it again, I *am* that innocent
So I have been e-mailing back and forth with this guy for a week. He seems pretty cool, funny, sweet and I like that he's quick to write back. We were exchanging notes a few times every day.
On the weekend he asked if I used MSN. I gave him my info and he right away added me. Yesterday he started a conversation with me by asking, "want to hear my new favorite thing in the world?" Well of course I did. So he sent me a link to a YouTube video. It was goofy, but that's him. I didn't really follow it closely. It was a bunch of Mexican guys dancing around singing a song about a seafood taco. I wrote back,
Five minutes went by. He wrote back,
I quickly Googled and consulted the Urban Dictionary.
Oh dear. Oh my. Oh Jillian. Dear, sweet, innocent Jillian.
I later consulted my friends to gauge how naive I really was. I asked three guys, all engineers (you can interpret those merits as you wish) if they were familiar with the term. At least two of them admitted they were not familiar with the exact term. Here were the responses I got:
This morning I mentioned it to some girls at work. Granted, I gave them some more context, but they seemed to quickly pick up on the reference. I also related the story to Kat and George, who shared a pretty good laugh about it with me. George and I tried to picture the guy falling off his chair as he read my response. I also informed them that I found a Martha Stewart recipe for a Poached seafood taco. Both of them responded with, did she learn that in prison?
Jill Story is also in the Urban Dictionary. I am not a fan of the other Jill references there, and this one isn't great either, but I do find it a little amusing
On the weekend he asked if I used MSN. I gave him my info and he right away added me. Yesterday he started a conversation with me by asking, "want to hear my new favorite thing in the world?" Well of course I did. So he sent me a link to a YouTube video. It was goofy, but that's him. I didn't really follow it closely. It was a bunch of Mexican guys dancing around singing a song about a seafood taco. I wrote back,
Hahaha. I love the dance too! I will never get away from tacos, will I? It's the theme of the month. I think I've had a sushi taco...or was that sushi pizza. How was your hockey game on Saturday?
Five minutes went by. He wrote back,
hahaha, I think seafood taco is a term for something that really isn't food
I quickly Googled and consulted the Urban Dictionary.
Oh dear. Oh my. Oh Jillian. Dear, sweet, innocent Jillian.
I later consulted my friends to gauge how naive I really was. I asked three guys, all engineers (you can interpret those merits as you wish) if they were familiar with the term. At least two of them admitted they were not familiar with the exact term. Here were the responses I got:
Fish tacos. Yes, I had them at Joeys once.
Nope. but fish tacos are good.
I ate seafood tacos on Sunday. They were delicious. Why? (Admittedly, I was on the sea. That makes a difference.)
This morning I mentioned it to some girls at work. Granted, I gave them some more context, but they seemed to quickly pick up on the reference. I also related the story to Kat and George, who shared a pretty good laugh about it with me. George and I tried to picture the guy falling off his chair as he read my response. I also informed them that I found a Martha Stewart recipe for a Poached seafood taco. Both of them responded with, did she learn that in prison?
Jill Story is also in the Urban Dictionary. I am not a fan of the other Jill references there, and this one isn't great either, but I do find it a little amusing
A story that's either too short or too long that ultimately ends up going nowhere. It has no real point and usually justs ends in everyone laughing AT the person who told the story.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Censor beep!
My blogging has slowed down a fair bit. I feel bad. I know there are people who check in on me and I wish I had something new to tell them. There is a story I really really want to tell, but I don't think I should. Not yet. But do me a favour and think nice, warm fuzzy thoughts for me. The pay off is that hopefully I'll get to tell you a really great story.
This is not at all related to the really great story, but it is a story nevertheless. Last night I woke up and I heard a noise. It was a beep. My first thought was, did the power go out and microwave beeped when it came back on? No, if the power went off I would've heard my stereo shuffle through the CDs. A few minutes passed and I heard the beep again. My next thought was, it must be my cell phone dying. Knowing it would continue to beep intermittently throughout its long and insufferable death, I decided to get up and plug it in. Now, I am a morning person, but I am not a 3:30-in-the-morning person. If I have to get up in the middle of the night I have all the stability of a Main Street drunk. So I stumbled into the kitchen, tried to remember which bag I had left the phone in, found it, plugged it in, and went back to bed.
"Beep!"
Evidently, the phone was not the problem.
My next deduction was that one of the smoke detectors was dying and I'd have to go pull the batteries out. The beep didn't sound close so I'd have to go to the basement. I took the stairs slowly but still managed to miss the last one and bounced into the wall.
I certainly did not want to turn on a light. Fortunately, there was enough coming from the windows that I found my way. I stood under the detector and waited for the beep of confirmation. While waiting, I noticed the light casted a shadow on the wall from the water meter that looked like a four foot tall Incredible Hulk. Weird.
"Beep!"
The beep was not coming from the smoke detector, it was definitely from upstairs! Back up I went to stand under the detector in the hall. I really was hoping it would not be the source, because it would require the use of a ladder and I just couldn't see that going well.
"Beep!", then, "Electronic Chime!" It was my cell phone after all! I didn't plug it in right the first time. Awesome. The mystery solved, I went back to bed and dreamed of four foot tall green men chasing and beeping at me. I don't think I should get the nachos at Carlos and Murphy's again for a while.
This is not at all related to the really great story, but it is a story nevertheless. Last night I woke up and I heard a noise. It was a beep. My first thought was, did the power go out and microwave beeped when it came back on? No, if the power went off I would've heard my stereo shuffle through the CDs. A few minutes passed and I heard the beep again. My next thought was, it must be my cell phone dying. Knowing it would continue to beep intermittently throughout its long and insufferable death, I decided to get up and plug it in. Now, I am a morning person, but I am not a 3:30-in-the-morning person. If I have to get up in the middle of the night I have all the stability of a Main Street drunk. So I stumbled into the kitchen, tried to remember which bag I had left the phone in, found it, plugged it in, and went back to bed.
"Beep!"
Evidently, the phone was not the problem.
My next deduction was that one of the smoke detectors was dying and I'd have to go pull the batteries out. The beep didn't sound close so I'd have to go to the basement. I took the stairs slowly but still managed to miss the last one and bounced into the wall.
I certainly did not want to turn on a light. Fortunately, there was enough coming from the windows that I found my way. I stood under the detector and waited for the beep of confirmation. While waiting, I noticed the light casted a shadow on the wall from the water meter that looked like a four foot tall Incredible Hulk. Weird.
"Beep!"
The beep was not coming from the smoke detector, it was definitely from upstairs! Back up I went to stand under the detector in the hall. I really was hoping it would not be the source, because it would require the use of a ladder and I just couldn't see that going well.
"Beep!", then, "Electronic Chime!" It was my cell phone after all! I didn't plug it in right the first time. Awesome. The mystery solved, I went back to bed and dreamed of four foot tall green men chasing and beeping at me. I don't think I should get the nachos at Carlos and Murphy's again for a while.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
I hate you. You're perfect
I saw 27 Dresses tonight with Lisa. I was pleasantly surprised and found it quite enjoyable. It had one of my favourite romantic story lines--the love/hate relationship. I have loved this story since I was 12 and watched The Cutting Edge for the first time (it was also the movie that convinced me tequila shots were clearly the funnest way to get drunk. When I finally did try one I wondered why anyone would want to drink hairspray). Other treasured movies of the same genre include Beauty and the Beast, Dirty Dancing, 10 Things I Hate about You, Pride and Prejudice, and, for one awesome scene, The Princess Bride.
(It's perfectly Jack and Jill-ish, isn't it?)
The idea has been done so many times, yet how often do you actually hear of two people getting together that way? Love is supposed to happen in the company of compatibility, similarity, and shared interests. Like all those happy couples on the eharmony commercials.
I was talking to Vince the other day and telling him I was getting bored with the online dating site (I never did hear any more from Mr. Blue Eyes, by the way). He suggested I add more information to my profile. Now I'm wondering if there is a way I can attract a guy I would initially hate but then, after getting loaded on tequila, would grow to love. What would the anti-Jill look like?
I am an optimist who sees the good in everyone. He would be a cynic who trusts no one.
I'm a little bit rock n' roll. He would be country, or worse, folk.
I have a good paying, sensible, steady, corporate job. He would be living pay cheque to pay cheque doing work I probably don't want to know about.
Bah, I don't care. Just make him look like James Marsden and I'll make it work.
Man in black: He died well, that should please you. No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said please, please, I need to live. It was the please that caught my memory. I asked what was so important for him; 'True love' he replied. And then he spoke of a girl of surpassing beauty and faithfulness...I can only assume he meant you. You should bless me for destroying him before he found out what you really are.
Buttercup: And what am I?
Man in black: Faithfulness he talked of, madam, your enduring faithfulness! Now tell me truly, when you found out he was gone did you get engaged to your prince that same hour or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?
Buttercup: You mocked me once! Never do it again! I died that day!
Buttercup: [pushing him down the hillside] You can die too, for all I care
Man in black: As.......you.....wish.......
(It's perfectly Jack and Jill-ish, isn't it?)
The idea has been done so many times, yet how often do you actually hear of two people getting together that way? Love is supposed to happen in the company of compatibility, similarity, and shared interests. Like all those happy couples on the eharmony commercials.
I was talking to Vince the other day and telling him I was getting bored with the online dating site (I never did hear any more from Mr. Blue Eyes, by the way). He suggested I add more information to my profile. Now I'm wondering if there is a way I can attract a guy I would initially hate but then, after getting loaded on tequila, would grow to love. What would the anti-Jill look like?
I am an optimist who sees the good in everyone. He would be a cynic who trusts no one.
I'm a little bit rock n' roll. He would be country, or worse, folk.
I have a good paying, sensible, steady, corporate job. He would be living pay cheque to pay cheque doing work I probably don't want to know about.
Bah, I don't care. Just make him look like James Marsden and I'll make it work.
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