Miracles will happen as we trip

I was supposed to go to the gym tonight but I am blogging instead. And I washed Truck, which probably burned, like, five calories, so I can go ahead and enjoy that stick of gum or glass of Crystal Light now. Woo.

Betchya didn't think you'd see me back here, huh?

I hung up the phone this afternoon at my desk, shook my head and asked whoever would answer me (there were two possible persons beside myself), "is it a full moon today?" It was the only explanation I had for the odd conversation I'd just had.

I recalled to my mind's eye the vision of the very round, very bright white orb in the sky at seven o'clock this morning, while thinking to myself, it's going to be a crazy one today.

In the window from which I was observing the lunar awesomeness I have hung a snowflake mobile, of sorts. It was on sale in January at Hallmark for some ridiculously low price (six bucks comes to mind).

No lights

It's solar powered, so it lights up blue when the sun goes down. Or rather, it is supposed to light up. I tested it in the store by covering the solar sensor with my hand, and it worked. But when I hung it in my window and waited for nightfall, it did not glow. I thought that perhaps this was due to a bright street light or the background light of the kitchen and decided I'd reposition it later.

I decided today that the mobile is not faulty or hyper photo-sensitive, but enchanted, which is my more optimistic way of saying, haunted. Not long after I put it up I caught it moving on its own, although I can't totally rule out that the passing by of a large truck didn't transfer some vibrations. More recently I would notice it light up at random moments for short periods of time, as it did this morning. I went to the closet to grab my coat, notice the full moon and the thing was dim. I went to the table to pick up my keys and the thing was lit. I turned away and then looked back and it was off again. No vibrations, no knocking it with my klutziness, no change in light. Just enchanting, really. (I'm really focusing on that word at the moment because something just fell off the counter in my kitchen and made me jump out of my skin.)

Lit up, with the lights off

Today on the way back from coffee break I noticed a book left in one of the free newspaper stands. The title made it irresistible for me to pick up: The Ghost In Love.

The book looked well loved, so I first worried that it belonged to some poor student or patient who dropped it accidentally. But there is no bookmark in it, so I think it was just rejected. I'm sure it is a stinker, but the description on the back cover still has me curious.

Welcome to the luminous and marvelously inventive world of The Ghost in Love. A man falls in the snow, hits his head on a curb, and dies. But something strange occurs: the man doesn’t die, and the ghost that’s been sent to take his soul to the afterlife is flabbergasted. Going immediately to its boss, the ghost asks, what should I do now? The boss says, we don’t know how this happened but we’re working on it. We want you to stay with this man to help us figure out what’s going on.

The ghost agrees unhappily; it is a ghost, not a nursemaid. But a funny thing happens—the ghost falls madly in love with the man’s girlfriend, and things naturally get complicated. Soon afterward, the man discovers he did not die when he was “supposed” to because for the first time in their history, human beings have decided to take their fates back from the gods. It’s a wonderful change, but one that comes at a price.  

The Ghost in Love is about what happens to us when we discover that we have become the masters of our own fate. No excuses, no outside forces or gods to blame—the responsibility is all our own. It’s also about love, ghosts that happen to be gourmet cooks, talking dogs, and picnicking in the rain with yourself at twenty different ages. 

Crazy.

A man decides after seventy years
That what he goes there for, is to unlock the door
While those around him criticize and sleep
And through a fractal on a breaking wall
I see you my friend, and touch your face again
Miracles will happen as we trip

But we're never gonna survive, unless
We get a little crazy
No we're never gonna survive, unless
We are a little crazy


--Crazy by Seal

Everyday is Mother's Day

My mom made me veggie burgers (with no hidden agenda cheese) and a vegan apple pie today. Even though I am 29 and far beyond my temperamental, experimental teen years, she goes along with my whims. It is because of her that I can keep my youthful curiosity and spirit. The Grand Canyon filled ten times over could not hold my gratitude for this gift.

Also, my dad fixed my heaved patio blocks today so I let him drink the beer in my fridge.

(If you filled the Grand Canyon 10 time over with beer, you'd just have a lot of drunk dads.)

True Love Never Dies

I haven't had much luck with growing roses at my house. I've been here for four years now and have lost two rose bushes to the harsh climate. Last year I was at a garden centre with my mom and happened upon a lonely little rose bush that was on sale at mid-season price. The name tag on the rose said "Love". I took it home with me and planted it in the back yard against my house. In the fall my dad carefully trimmed it down and covered it up to protect it from freezing over the winter. Winter came and went and I hoped for the best for my Love plant.

Y'know what? It persevered. It survived. Love came back and blossomed this year. Don't question the tenacity of love. Yup, think of every cliche and quote about love and drop it here. I love Love.

"Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his 21st year. If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken."--Beauty and the Beast

I sure hope it blooms again next year!

Craptastic

"Crap," my dad said, looking at my toilet.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"It's going to be a bigger job than I thought. Needs a new part. I'll have to get my tools," he said.

"Mm." I went back to eating my cottage cheese and blueberries.

"Mom and I were supposed to go out this afternoon."

"But you'll fix it today, right? I mean, I don't need it now, but I will by the end of the day."

"We'll see," he said. "You'll still be able to flush, you'll just have to pour water into the bowl." I rolled my eyes and got up to put away my empty dish.

"Crap!" I said looking at the back of my chair that had a small, white, grey and yellow swirled blob of bird crap on it. Ever since Wednesday I've been randomly spotting the stuff around the house--on the window sills, on the floor, on the walls, on the doors, on an empty cup (ewww) my boots, my scarf. Lemme rewind.

On Wednesday I got home from work to find a lovely little shamrock plant on my table with a yellow Post-it Note from my mom attached that read: "We had to let your 'pet' free. It was kinda crapping all over the place. I cleaned that up for you."

The 'pet' she was referring to, apparently, was a little sparrow that some how found its way into my house God knows when. I didn't know anything about it. I had noticed some white stuff on the floor but thought it was from me stepping in paint and tracking it around the house. I was spot testing a colour in my kitchen and had no recollection of spilling it but I have a lot of memory black outs these days so it really didn't seem like a stretch.

When my mom explained this all to me over the phone I gasped because I remembered that a bird in the house was supposed to be some kind of bad omen. I Googled it and confirmed that yes, there is an old wives' tale that says a bird in the house means a death is imminent. My parents went to a funeral that day so I'm hoping that is all taken care of. So far so good.

Later that day, toilet fixed, Judy dropped by to return some mugs I'd left in her car. I was telling her about my kitchen painting project and decided then and there to try out the other colour I'd chosen for the walls. I slapped a few strokes on the wall beside the light switch. Judy ooh'd with delight, I just ew'd. The colour is a greeny yellow and I was brushing it over plain white. I couldn't help but think it looked just like...crap. Avian crap. Hopefully the second coat will improve things, and hopefully I've found all the messes my special visitor left. I can't believe it got my boots! Thank God it wasn't on the Betseys!

Heat: Part 1

The walls have ears.

No more payments on Truck meant that I was looking forward to some extra cash being left over in my bank account each month. Dollar signs danced in my head along with paint and floor samples for my kitchen, snow tires, night classes, etc. I awoke from that sweet dream on Sunday morning and shivered. Around 10am I realized that the furnace was not coming on. I check the thermostat. It was showing an animated graphic of a dancing flame, which is supposed to mean that the thing is running. A phone call to my dad and $169 later I had a new motor installed and the heat was flowing again. It could have been much worse and much more costly. Please, please, please let the hot water tank hang on.

One of my colleagues twisted my arm into going out for lunch today. I had packed the fixings for what would be a sweet and savory toasted turkey sandwich but we ended up at the Spicy Noodle House instead. (Good-Wooden Leg designers, you were on my mind the whole time, miss you guys.) I picked the table by the window and ordered my standard bowl of spicy soup. I coughed on the first spoonful, by the third my lips were warm and my nasal passages were opening up. It was everything I remembered, minus the good-natured teasing that I used to get with the Good-Wooden group.

"Y'know, if I were you, I'd spend some time working abroad," my lunch friend said. He's told me this before.

"I've got my family here, my house," I said. I like the idea of an adventure but I was feeling sentimental over a bowl of soup. I don't think crossing the ocean is something I'm in a place to consider right now.

Job-->Truck-->House-->New furnace motor. This is my very settled, very grounded life. It's not for everyone, but that's not who I live for.

Kiss my cotton candy

My day started with my closet having a temper tantrum that resulted in clothes scattered all over my room. I dashed for the bus in heels and a pencil skirt that didn't match. Ugh. I need a new brown tweed skirt. The old man in the mall still told me I looked very nice.

Work is chaos right now and that stresses me right out. I recently introduced a new process for getting work done and today started a numeric and colour-coded filing system. I went to my manager holding the pink and orange files close to my heart and said, "filing soothes my soul."

For lunch I thought I had packed a container of my spinach and lentils casserole but upon opening the lid discovered that I actually had cream of cauliflower soup. I dumped the 3/4-full, tall yogurt container of soup into a large bowl, heated it up and grabbed a spoon.

Just before lunch I'd slicked my lips with some lip gloss because they were feeling dry. The gloss was supposed to be cotton candy flavored, or rather, Christian Dior's interpretation of cotton candy flavour. Do you know what cotton candy is called in French? Barbe à papa, literally, Father's beard. Christian Dior took all this and cleverly named their light pink, sparkly lip gloss Cotton Daddy. Do you remember reading the Barbapapa children's books with the big pink fluffy character? That's the color of the lip gloss. Anyway, the flavor of the gloss is not very tasty and does not at all complement cream of cauliflower soup. I doubt that it would have improved upon the flavouring of the lentils dish either.

Look! Fireplace!

Hot Lunch

Well, today I wish I had my plug n' play fireplace. The house temp was normal at 19 but after coming inside from a cool and windy walk I sure could've used some warming up. I dragged myself to the gym though, another good way to shake a chill. I hope that the purchase of the fireplace doesn't make it hard to leave my cozy home for a date with Gym.

Today at work I made one of my favourite easy meals--herbed chick pea and tomato pizza. It's just mashed up and seasoned chickpeas on a pita, topped with tomato, ricotta and Parmesan cheese, baked until crisp. The mini pizza caught the eye of some others in the lunch room. One woman said, "Jill always brings the best lunches". Another one said, "I know, I've been noticing her lunches for the past week, I'm a lunch stalker!" A few others then commented that they would bring better lunches if it were not for the fact that they had children to make lunches for too.

That Jill is a real head turner, especially at lunch time. Well, if it meant I didn't have to eat solo as much I'd happily bring another bite to share. Every once in a while I think about making this offer.

aMMMbiance

Well I thought that today I would be blogging beside the fire today but no such luck. I've been dreaming of getting an electric fireplace, one that is designed to hold your flatscreen TV, cable box, DVD player, etc. Not only does it add a nice ambient touch to a room, but I'm hoping the space heater would also be an economical way to take the chill out of the room, especially in the fall and spring when running the furnace seems a bit much. I'm still dreaming of it though because I drove all the way across to the east end of town only to learn that Canadian Tire did not have the one I wanted left in stock. I got a rain check. It's supposed to be in on Thursday, which gives me some more time to talk myself out of it (Jillian, you do not have an extra $400 to spend on "ambiance" right now), find another one elsewhere, or completely convince myself that this is a good buy.

On Saturday I baked cookies while the nice MTS man installed my HDTV and PVR. I don't really care about HDTV, but I am super excited about the PVR. First thing I recorded? Vampire Diaries of course. They replayed the new episode on Saturday afternoon. I watched it live, paused it when Damon was looking particularly dreamy (mmm, ambiance), and then skipped through the commercials. Beautiful technology.

Little Enchanted House on the Prairie

I can't remember if I've mentioned this before, but I planted an avocado seed a year or so ago and grew a plant. The interesting part of the story is not that I sprouted an avocado plant, but that some how a pepper plant popped up in the same pot.

The pepper plant (I suspect some kind of jalapeno) produced a pepper, the avocado did not produce anything but some leaves on the end of a spindly stem.

See:



Today I discovered the magic continues because now I have neon yellow mushrooms growing in a planter I had filled with some random green leafy plant and an ivy (also note the dead sapling behind it).



So yes everyone, I apparently live in some kind of enchanted home where stuff that I don't eat (and well, given that alarming colour of the 'shroom, probably shouldn't eat), pops up out of the dirt without me planting it.

Oh my Kodachrome

Well this is just perfect.

I got home about 15-20 minutes ago. I was in America for the long weekend again. It's Monday night and back to work for me tomorrow and do you know what's going on out there? A big, noisy, wet and windy summer storm. The gall of Mother Nature to save a real raging one for the Monday night of the Aug. long weekend. Every year I wait and hope for a big light show on a night when I don't have to get up in the morning and be functioning so that I can stay up and watch it from my living room. Denied again.

I don't have time tonight to blog about my weekend. Hopefully tomorrow. But I thought I should put something up here as an appetizer...

...and I would have. See, just now I went outside with my colourful umbrella and my Olympus digital camera circa 2006 to take a grainy video of the sky lighting up but gosh darn it all, I can't seem to get Picasa to let me post it on YouTube. I think it is time for an equipment upgrade.

Here's a random video I found on YouTube of a whistling puppy. I can make Elmo do something similar. I'd capture and share that with you but my antique camera doesn't record sound. Bah Humbug.

Nurturing Nature

I came home tonight and saw that my rose bush and herb pot needed water. I grabbed the hose and doused the rose which is still sitting in its pot. Just as I was turning to the pot of herbs I heard a SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK! I saw something scurry in the irises. Please, please don't be a mouse, I said to myself. A mouse would be a problem. I looked and saw a tiny ball of brownish grey fir with ears. As I pulled back the irises a bit more the creature leaped up. Startled, I jumped back. I went in to take another look and decided it must be a baby bunny. Ohhhh! Where is mamma? What if some big ol' nasty crow finds the little guy? I grabbed a Folgers coffee bucket and placed it between the irises and the side of the house hoping that bunny would take refuge in there if need be. He ignored it though, and actually when he hopped closer I could see that the little guy was still blind.

(Okay, so he still looks a bit like a mouse or rodent in this pic, but I promise you there is no rodent tail, so we're cool)

I Googled "Found a baby rabbit" and was reassured by this bit of info:

Rabbit mothers nurse their babies for approximately 5 minutes a day. They will be in the nest or nest box early in the morning and then again in the evening...If you come across a nest of bunnies in the wild and the mother is no where to be seen, please DO NOT disturb them...this is normal. Mother rabbits return to the nest to nurse only at night, staying away as much as possible so as not to attract predators. To determine if the mother is returning, create a tic-tac-toe pattern over the nest with straw, grasses or tiny twigs. Wait 24 hours to see if the twigs have been disturbed. She may be able to feed them without moving the twigs much, so double check--If the babies look healthy, are warm, then the mother is coming back.

--According to the House Rabbit Society 

There appears to be a nest in the leaves of the irises, which explains why Elmo was so interested in them the last time he was here. I know rabbits are almost a nuisance in suburbia, (okay, they are the very definition of nuisance since they do eat my flowers) but come on, they're so cute and it's nice to have such a cute animal friend in my back yard. Plus, I found the bunny when I was taking care of Love. If that isn't a divine plot I don't know what is.

(I need a pet, don't I? I'm one rabbit nest away from crazy town.)

Weed problem?

My neighbours on the south side of my property are sweet people who take good care of their yard. I do my best to keep up with them but sometimes I'm a couple of days behind in getting my grass cut because hey, I'm a young single gal with things to do. I always feel pangs of guilt when I get behind, like I'm a bad neighbour, but I know I'm no where near as bad as my neighbours on the north side. Their grass often gets to jungle levels. Plus, they have dogs who poop in the front yard and I'm always afraid when I'm doing my grass that I'll accidentally step in a poopy present near the edge of the property line. They do sometimes take the dogs out for their business, evident by the fact that they leave bags of poop on their front door step.

So imagine my surprise when I came home today and noticed that they had mowed the lawn and I was the monkey in the middle with the unruly greens. But wait, upon closer inspection, there was another, more puzzling surprise for me--some of my own lawn was shorter than I had left it this morning.

The redneck neighbour or the redneck neighbour kid, cut the front lawn and a good chunk of my lawn too. Odd, but okay. However there were other random spots in the middle of the yard that had obviously been run over with a mower too. There was a bit of a question mark shape alongside a vertical line. What the hey? Dude, cut your grass, but don't smoke it and go back to operating the lawn mower. I don't know how home owner's insurance works if you have an accident while you're stoned and cutting random patterns into my front lawn.

I grabbed my camera and made like I was taking photos of my flower beds. I had to try to get a picture of this to share with you and my parents.

Look between the two bushes and follow the patch that looks brown as it comes down and then curves to the left. That's not dead, it's a random act of mowing. (Grass growers live to the left of this photo)

See this pic too for another angle:

Can you also see the wheel tracks to the right of the mowed part? There was another mowed patch somewhere along there too. No mowed line or tracks into my yard, just this, right smack in the middle, like suburban crop circles. Bizzare.

Now let's look at my flowers.

Lily

Budding Love

Love in bloom

28.5 years of service with Humanity

Last weekend after my house sprung a leak my dad came over with his ShopVac and sucked up the puddle in my basement. He took a section of paneling off the wall and didn't find rotting wood or moldy insulation. Mike Holmes wouldn't have been satisfied but we decided that the puddle was likely not to be seen again for another 50 years.

I packed up all my books and took them to my parents' where my mom let them bake in the sun on the deck for a day. Dry basement, dry books, everything is as it was again, although for a while there I still got pretty nervous whenever rain was in the forecast.

I am 28.5 years old (oh boo, I missed my half birthday yesterday) and to date I've:

• had my one and only snow day off from school due to the '97 Blizzard of the Century
• missed classes again to help sand bag during the '97 Flood of the Century
• waited for a bus during the coldest temperatures in 25 years ( −41.7 °C [−43 °F] on February 5, 2007)
• sweat it out during the hottest temperatures in 25 years (38.7 °C [102 °F] on August 6, 1988 and again on August 1, 1989. The highest humidex reading was 48 on July 25, 2007, although just 64 km [40 mi] southwest of the city, the town of Carman, Manitoba broke Canada's all time humidex record, with a high of 53)
• been 40km west of the worst tornado ever recorded in Canada (F5 in Elie, MB on June 22, 2007)

 and now I've also experienced the city's worst rain storm in 50 years. Good golly, what could possibly come to us now? (Did I just poke a stick at Mother Nature? Whoops. Guess those mosquitoes are coming...)

During my research I also found this interesting: according to Environment Canada, Winnipeg is the coldest city in the world with a population of over 600,000 (and don't forget, the world's Slurpee capital). We Winnipeggers like a good challenge. Not just anyone can live here, y'know.

Last Monday I had an important meeting I wanted to look extra stylish for. I chose my outfit carefully and the shoes to match. As on most days, I packed those shoes in my bag and walked out of my house in shoes more appropriate for riding the bus. When I got to work I pulled out my shoes only to find that I had packed two different shoes for the right foot. I had a spare pair of neutral coloured shoes in my desk drawer (a good fashionista is always prepared). They worked, but it just wasn't the same. So I called my mom, who was going over to my house anyway to check on the basement, and asked her if she would bring me my other shoe. Sometime around 10:30 I met her in the parking lot and she handed to me a single shoe: my left black heel with white top-stitching. In a span of four days I had my dad ShopVac-ing my basement and my mom delivering me a shoe. If I am not a Disney Princess I don't know who is. Is there really a Prince C. who will fix my castle and deliver me my shoe upon request? I don't know, but I do have some wonderful people in my life who already do this. Only thing is, I think they want to retire soon. It's been 28 years already and they'd like to go travelling.

I am using this weekend to be mostly lazy. Last week was a bit stressful and this week coming up is stupendously busy. Hopefully it will be bloggable when I have a moment to spare again.

Come Hell or High Water

Someone told me long ago: There's a calm before the storm
I know
and it's been comin' for sometime.
When it's over
so they say
it'll rain a sunny day
--CCR Have you Ever Seen the Rain

Mother Nature is having her way with my house. On Wednesday I went down to the basement and discovered a dead bumble bee in the middle of the floor being masticated by red ants. The bee was dead so the hows and whys of it are of no matter now. The ants however, are a problem, although not as much of a problem as the large puddle I came home to on Saturday night.

From the CBC.ca website

Homeowners, public works crews and emergency responders in southern Manitoba are beginning a major cleanup after severe thunderstorms pounded the region over the weekend.


Environment Canada said 53 millimetres of rain fell on Winnipeg on Saturday and several major streets remain closed because of flooding.

The towns of Portage la Prairie and Emerson each recorded record amounts of rainfall, a spokesperson for the weather agency said. Emerson has declared a state of emergency because of the damage done to property in the community.

Read more

My friend George noted on his Facebook status that he felt "feels 10 years younger...because for the first time in 10 years, he has to bail out his fricking basement". Me, I felt 10 years older for being a homeowner who had returned to find that her house needed a diaper. I got to work with my mop, pushing the water into the storm drain. I spent an hour on the clean up getting it mostly dry before deciding I could go to bed at midnight.

I had a lousy sleep full of weird dreams.  At four I was awake and could hear the rain again. I decided to check downstairs. The puddle was back. Feeling helpless, I went back to bed and waited until it was a decent hour to phone my dad.
Springtime in Winnipeg didn't used to mean monsoon season. Winnipeg has suffered some depressing and wet summers the past two years but I think we thought we were getting back to the sunny side of things this year. Climate change. Yes, I'm a believer. I've been here long enough to know that this isn't the weather I grew up with. This is something different. Is it the product of the human lifestyle or just a cycle in nature, I don't know, but I have to wonder if I'm seeing the beginnings of a new Atlantis.

My dad came over in the morning with his ShopVac and sucked up the water. He got about 15 gallons of water and it continued to seep in. The ground is just so saturated and the sewers so full that the water has nowhere to go but old basements. Fortunately my basement is just a storage space for me although I did have a lot of books in cardboard boxes that will need to be aired out.

Dad burnt out the ShopVac. The sun and blue sky are back out now although the forecast is calling for more precipitation tonight and tomorrow. Good thing I have that canoe.

Hot potatoes and Valentine's Day 2010

Yesterday I was without hot water for a few hours, set off the smoke alarm repeatedly while roasting lemon potatoes, couldn't put together an outfit and lost my cell phone, twice, before having to venture to the far east side of the city to celebrate Valentine's day with three other single women. I was not exactly a bucket full of cheer.
Lisa invited me to join her for dinner with one of her running buddies on Sunday night. I hesitated about going, first because I wasn't sure if I was going to be working on my novel still that night, and secondly because I wanted to ignore V-day this year in favour of watching the Olympics, washing my hair, scrubbing the bathtub and alphabetizing my soup cans. I've done the single girls' support session thing and I've done the sweetheart thing. The only things I really love about Love Day in February are the pink and red hearts. I used to decorate my cubicle at work with them but I've heard this is forbidden in the place I'm at now, so grey padded walls, 365 it is. But some other force won out against my hesitation and I found myself assigned to bring roasted lemon potatoes for the Greek dinner.

My dad came over in the afternoon to flush out my hot water tank. It's been rather unreliable lately so we thought we'd try to get the crud out of it in hopes of improving its performance. Sunday really didn't seem like a good day for him to do this--Dad was watching the Daytona 500 and I needed to be showered and out the door at a specific time to make it to dinner. But he came anyway, showing up as I was reorganizing my linen closet. While he did his thing I worked on laundry and the pucker up potatoes.

I had asked my dad if I was going to have hot water by five, when I would need to be in the shower. Yes, he said. I had some concern when after the first flushing he ran the water and decided it needed more work. He went back to the basement while I folded clothes and watched speed skating.

Just before five I took the potatoes out. I had lined my glass baking dish with foil to make the clean up easier. I was foiled alright, the roasting juices bubbled over and got in-between the foil and the glass and burned black. The potatoes were fine, great actually, but the burning lemon juice and olive oil was what kept setting the smoke alarm off and resulted in a black mess in the pan. I transferred the potatoes to another dish for transport and quickly put the glass pan in the sink. I squeezed in some dish soap and cranked on the hot water to let the pan soak. The water felt barely warm.

"This is ridiculous!" I yelled. "I need to have a shower now and there is no hot water!" I knew it wasn't my dad's fault, I knew there was nothing he could really do. I was just mad. He left and I said I would be following close behind to shower and change at his place. I grabbed, and stuffed into a duffle bag, every pink or black top I had that, in combination with my new black skirt, might form an outfit that was pretty yet not overly formal. I figured that likely the other girls would be in their jeans but if I was going to be going out and celebrating this day, damn it, I was going to feel like a million bucks. I was running late and went to grab my cell phone to let Lisa know. I couldn't find it. I looked all over the house, tore apart my bed, searched through my purse, my gym bag and my work bag but couldn't find it. So I pulled out Mac and went online to send myself a text message.

I heard the phone vibrate and chime. It sounded to be coming from the kitchen so I went back there and sent another message to myself. It wasn't coming from my purse (though I checked it, again) and it didn't seem to be coming from the counter or the table. I went back to my bedroom, sent another message and listened. It still couldn't place it but then the bell went off in my head and I flung open the linen closet. There it was, on the shelf, with the towels. One of these days it will end up in the freezer. Remind me to make a donation to the Alzheimer's society, for me it would be an investment.

I went into the bathroom to wash my hands and noticed that the water felt a little warmer now. I decided to try the tap in the shower. Hot, steamy water droplets soon rained down and started to wash away the afternoon's frustration.

I happily accepted a glass of white wine when I arrived at the hostess's apartment. I apologized for being so late that she and Lisa were probably ready to eat the curtains, but they assured me all was good and we nibbled on appetizers while dinner heated up.

"Did you finish your novel?" Lisa asked me.

"Yeah, I finished on Friday night," I said.

"Congratulations!" She said and then told her friend, Joanne about my project, who also offered her congratulations. They were genuinely excited for me and this caught me off guard. I had finished the project two days ago and didn't have anyone around to celebrate it with me so I put the moment away and turned my thinking toward the next steps, namely how I was going to print off this 168-page manuscript to start editing it. Joanne asked me about the subject of the novel but I wasn't ready to talk about it yet, so maybe I'm not ready to celebrate it yet either. Is 50,000 words really such a big deal? I thought so once. Lisa and Joanne think so. My Valentine would think so.

I confessed at dinner that I'd had some reservations about accepting the dinner invitation and explained how I didn't want to celebrate V-day this year. Joanne, divorced with a 10-year-old son said she celebrates her old wedding anniversary every year with a steak dinner and wanted to do something similar for Valentine's. We drank pomegranate martinis with red heart ice cubes floating in the glasses--melting hearts, Lisa said. It made me think of my own cryogenically frozen muscle of affection and laugh.

The conversation turned to love and lack-there-of. Another one of Joanne's single friends joined us for dessert and more drinks. As I spoke and listened, I thought about how it felt like a moment you'd see on TV or in a movie. There was the woman who felt she had come to terms with her situation, the woman who had be hurt but still had hope, the one who had wisdom and faith but still some fear, and the one who felt all of those things and was perhaps one miracle or broken heart away from getting off the fence.

"Maybe it all happened so we could end up together, here tonight," Lisa said. There was something right feeling about it all. I don't know what my story will end up being, but this scene seemed to have its place.

The Typical Winnipeg Winter Writing Experience

When I got home today I had a horrible headache. Truck got all hung up on a snow drift when I was backing him into the driveway. On top of that, my head was pounding (ba dum ching!). I called my dad and took an Advil.

I was hoping the roads weren't going to be so bad this afternoon because I wanted to go to the gym and pick up some groceries. The gym is located in the Superstore (in the same building that is, I don't actually do laps around the produce and canned goods) and boy do I love the convenience of that. But since I couldn't even get out of my driveway without help I really wasn't excited to navigate the roads just for a Body Pump class and some Oreos.

I bought a new down jacket on a super sale at Eddie Bauer last week but I couldn't decide if I liked it. It was good quality and would be super warm, I knew that, but it was shorter than my current winter jacket. This one only came down to my hip. Most ladies jackets will hit just below the hip at least and cover some of the derierre area. I worried that A) this would look funny on me because it would essentially cut me in half, and B) that it would mean sitting on a frozen tush after waiting for the bus to arrive. The hood was another matter altogether. It is also filled with very lofty down so when I put it up it for sure will keep my ears warm, but I can't help but think I look like a Teletubby. I just need some kind of antennae to complete the look.  I also found myself reminded of that Robert Munsch story, Thomas' Snow Suit:

"That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life. If you think that I am going to wear that ugly snow suit, you are craaaaazy." Thomas, speaking to his mother in Thomas' Snow Suit. Listen to Robert Munsch tell the story here, he is still one of my all-time favourite story tellers.

I needed to be convinced that this jacket, which was a supreme deal, was in fact so fabulously warm and able to protect me from the elements of a Winnipeg winter, that it didn't really matter if the style was not exactly my preference. So I put it on with all the tags intact, and stood outside while my dad cleared my driveway. It worked exactly as I predicted it would and so I think I have convinced myself to keep it.




Yes, my eyes are closed. I am so warm and cozy in my new jacket that I can fall asleep standing outside in a whipping 80 km/hr wind. Clearly, worth every penny of the $100, even if it should have had an extra couple of inches added to the bottom.

So as I was saying, I had a headache and I didn't feel like putting my life nor my auto insurance deductable at risk, so I stayed in for the night. Mother Nature essentially grounded me.

I had an itch to do some baking, which was why I needed the Oreos. I wasn't too disappointed I wouldn't be able to make the mini cheesecakes I had in mind, but I had an incredible craving for chocolate, so all I could think about was double chocolate chip cookies. The only thing that really stopped me from baking though was the thought of having all those extra dishes to wash after--bowls, spoons, cookie sheets. I had just finished washing up the dishes from my breakfast and dinner. I really didn't want to plunge my hands into a basin of hot water again.

I knew too that a baking project would take a fair bit of time to do and it would probably leave me with very little time for writing. With it being so miserable outside it was a perfect reason to stay in and just add to my word count. But then I checked the TV and saw that House was going to be on after the news. When I went to settle in to watch the show though my TV started acting up again. I had no picture. I really couldn't do anything except go to my writing space and work. I did my daily word count and cured my chocolate craving with a piece of cake. After that my headache was gone. Amazing huh?

I'm finding myself torn about telling people that I am doing this writing project. While I am excited about it and proud of the results so far, people always want to know what I'm writing about. The No Plot No Problem book suggest that writers taking the one month novel challenge shouldn't talk about what they are writing while doing the challenge because then they might feel limited to stick to the details and plot plans they've revealed. So for now I am keeping the topic a secret. So far I think it has worked out well because the story I ended up telling isn't quite like the one I thought it was going to be, and I am quite enjoying the surprise.

Since reaching the half-way mark I've gotten paranoid about the idea of losing my work so today I decided to back it up onto a USB stick. I'm also worried about what would happen if I were to lose that tiny little stick and so I'm thinking maybe I should back the work up online too. I started having visions of that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie's Mac crashes and she loses all her work, all the columns she's written and everybody asks her, well didn't you back up? She's dating Aidan in that episode and they get into a fight and he buys her a new laptop.

Ugh. I feel like I was dragged behind a bus in the snowdrifts. I hope I'm not coming down with something. That would be great, writing my novel while under the influence of Nyquil or a fever-induced delirium. I told Lisa that I would only introduce aliens and dream sequences if I found myself getting close to the deadline but not anywhere near the word count.

Black and Gold

I had been planning this party since before I had a house to hold it in. Finally, I did it. I had my black and gold birthday party.

The living room was painted and I even got some pictures hung on the wall. The cake was fabulous as I had imagined it would be. The spread of party food was plentiful. I put on my little black dress, brought out the Betseys and then the friends came and made my 28th birthday golden.

I can almost put my finger on it now

Now that is how to spend four days off.

Friday was a bit of a let down due to the monsoon that passed through Winnipeg. I had an appointment with the bank (met the lovely banking officer named Kurt who enjoys Starbucks, lists, travel and family, but alas, had a girlfriend. Would it have been inappropriate to ask him to direct me to the branch with the hot single men?). I am looking at possibly spending some big money in the next 12 months and I'd really like to get into the whole responsible adult thing of buying RRSPs and such. Oh look how our little Jillian has grown up, my oh my.

On Saturday afternoon I decided I wanted to cook. Not just cook, but cook for other people. So I started working on a plan to have my parents and my grandma over for dinner when I heard a loud knock at my door. Hoping that it was opportunity knocking I put aside my planning thoughts to open the door.

Behind door number one was an attractive young man who promised me he wasn't selling anything. Oh Lord, why do they tell such lies? I didn't see the Publishers Clearing House crew standing behind him so I figured I could safely assume he wasn't giving away anything either, at least not something I had any interest in. He was also wearing a wedding ring so I was already completely bored but let him do his spiel anyway. I don't like to slam doors in peoples' faces. They're just out there trying to make an honest dollar (well, quasi honest, since the opening line is always, "I'm not trying to sell you anything") so would it really do any harm to let them say their piece before I politely shoo them away?

I began to get quite tired of this guy after a good five minutes of nodding along and was hoping that he was on his way to wrapping up when he asked, "did I get you out of bed?"

Um, thanks dude. Now not only am I irritated by you taking up my time, but you have now drawn attention to the fact that my hair is messy, I'm not wearing any makeup, and my boredom is clearly showing. Good luck with that sell job now.

"The football game is on," I said, suddenly really wishing I could go check the score.

"Oh, yeah, I know. I wish I could be watching the game too, but I have to be out here," he smiled and then proceeded to continue with his "I'm not here to sell you anything" sales pitch for another five minutes. Actually, I'm guessing on all these windows of time. It felt like I stood there for twenty. I started to notice that his finger nails were disturbingly long. Perhaps they had grown in the time he had taken to try to convince me of the merits of his product.

I had lost my passion for cooking and entertaining for a while but I was happy to discover it all over again on Saturday night. I bought myself flowers at the same time that I picked up the ingredients. I like that I can make myself so happy.

On Sunday Lisa and I drove up to Gimli to see Judy and check out the Icelandic Festival. The day was lovely and Lisa said later that she really enjoyed herself, but I found that we spent most of the day waiting for something. When we got there we had to wait in line for the washrooms. Then we waited for Tonia and her friend, Britt, to join us. Then we waited in a line up to grab lunch. Then we sat on the grass and waited for a viking fight show to start. First, half of the fighters took their places and then we had to wait for the other troop to sail in from the lake in their viking "ship", dock the boat, possibly pose for pictures with tourists on the beach, and then join the rest of the show. The fight took about five minutes.

At one point during the day, while waiting for something I am sure, I browsed a jewelery kiosk set up on the main drag. I found a collection of mood rings that caught my eye. I suppose there isn't really anything more tacky than a mood ring, never mind the one that I picked up which had the word "LOVE" circled in the band. Something about it appealed to me though. Maybe it was the idea of having love wrapped around my finger or maybe it was the fact that when I put it on it immediately turned a deep royal purple, which, according to the key, meant I was actually "in love". It was four dollars so I made it mine. Who says you can't buy me love?

We walked the pier a bit. Britt wanted to go all the way to the end to take photos. The rest of us were not feeling into it and were ready to turn back.

"Maybe there is a pot of gold at the end of the pier," Tonia suggested with a smile.

"No," Lisa shook her head. "I've been to the end. Mostly there's just used condoms." I guess a few someones have found their own pots of gold out there, but I had a strong feeling that that was not the place to find mine.

More lines and waiting ensued and just when there was nothing left to stand for, it was time to go home.

And today? Today I let my mom talk me into buying another pair of shoes. They are for dancing in. I can hardly think of a good argument against buying a pair of shoes meant for dancing.

As I type my eye catches the ring on my finger. I have monitored it closely since putting it on, watching it change color from the blissfully happy color of love, to the uncertain yellow, green and orange hues of anxiety and mixed emotions. When I took it off last night before washing my face, I put it on the sink counter top and it turned black--which means "nothing" according to the key. Yes of course I know it is completely bogus. Still, it crossed my mind that perhaps I should have my next lover wear one. "Your lips say I love you, but the ring says fear, do we need to talk?"

In Canada engineer graduates receive their iron rings. According to Wikipedia, "The Ring is worn on the little finger of the working hand, where the facets act as a sharp reminder of obligation while the engineer works". For as long as I wear it (which may be a week or a month or so before I honestly get tired of wearing something on my finger again) my LOVE mood ring will serve to remind me to continue my personal pledge, my mission, to fill my days doing things in the name of love. I will think of this as I type out my words, prepare food or rest my head on my hands before sleep. Kasia sent me a link to an article she had found a while ago when I first committed myself to being a student of love. The article is titled, What would love do? It's a short article but the idea it proposes is simple enough. When going through your day, whatever it is that you are doing, try asking yourself, what would love do?

Love may crumble in apology, love may weep with humility and grace. She may run into burning buildings. He may genuflect.
Love knows what's best for every situation.
Love transcends policy and history.
Love innovates.
Love is everything we've been asking for.

I'm going to go make my lunch and then dance to sappy music in my pajamas in my living room now.

I am so happy.

Slave to the alarm clock

So I woke up this morning to my radio as per usual but it felt strange. It felt like I hadn't really slept long. Plus, the morning show that I normally wake to was not on. And it seemed a lot darker than normal. I turned on my light anyway and grabbed my watch. My watch said it was 2:30. 2:30?!!? Wha? Had I left it on stopwatch? Why is it that my last though was the logical and correct one--the power had gone off. When it came back on, it made my stereo and TV come on. Bizzare, I know. Possible poltergeist activity. I think I should stay away from the TV for a while. Anyway, the fortunate part of all of this is that at least I didn't sleepwalk into the shower before discovering that I still had three hours of sleep to capitalize on.

I am taking Friday off. Oh no! Will she be grumpy and miserable?! NO! Not this time. I have appointments to attend and possibly a party to plan.

Summer Vacay 09 Day 3

Wow did we ever get a storm yesterday evening. Lightning, thunder, rain. It was beautiful. It reminded me of being out at the cottage where storms are five times louder. I only wish it could have happened later at night. A perfect summer vacation would include a midnight storm I could stay up and watch, and rain beating against the window first thing in the morning when I would normally be getting up.

Today my mom and I attacked the rest of my living room wall. When I moved in (two years ago now, did I mention I just celebrated my two year anniversary with my house?) my living room walls were covered in this fibre wall stuff, which I like to compare to dryer lint stuck on with decoupage glue. It was grey with white flecks (like the kind of lint you get when you wash and dry a pair of pants you left a Kleenex in). To remove the stuff you "simply" wet it and scrape it off (it's not that easy). Last night when I was talking to my mom she asked me how the wall project was coming.

"Well there's a patch on the left side of the TV that I've done, and a bit on the right, so it kind of looks like a crack house in here."

Not wanting her daughter's home to be seen by anyone looking like a crack house, my mom immediately offered to come over today to help me finish it. Thankfully, she was happy to work for a grilled cheese sandwich and Fresca.

Once all the stuff was scraped off we had to wash the walls to remove the remaining fluff and glue residue. My mom, while on a break, laughed while watching me rub down the walls with a yellow cloth using a circular motion.

"Wax on, wax off," she said. Although I've never seen The Karate Kid, I am familiar with the reference, and truthfully, there was something very Zen feeling about the task. Is it weird to say that I felt like I was doing something nice for my house? There's just something satisfying, in a loving kind of way, about restoring something to its original beauty. Like cleaning the make up off of a hooker. Okay, I think I'm taking this crack house metaphor too far now.

When I got home tonight I was singing a song I'd heard on the way home. It echos in here now that the walls aren't padded in fluff, so my voice seemed to fill the whole house. My voice filled the whole house. I knew when I bought this house that I liked it because it was a good fit, just the right size. I fell in love with my house all over again today. I think I want to just stay up all night with it and think about how happy I am to have it in my life right now.