Monday, January 31

day 10287: the grand gesture

It’s finally over. All the effort, stress and anticipation of the last few weeks culminated on Friday night in one big glorious bash. They came, drank and donated as they partook in the night’s entertainment… a kick ass dj, a very funny comedy act, and of course, the long-dreaded bachelor/bachelorette auctions.

Apart from a couple of hiccups midday (i.e. half the alcohol thought to be lost in transit), a few “issues” with the seating arrangements, and a dinner that was delayed by an hour, everything flowed as it should. I laughed, I flirted, I looked “absolutely, smashingly, amazing” in my stunning black dress (quote Triscuit’s mother). I went up on stage three times in front of 525 people - once to accept a plaque on behalf of my very generous monkeyco, once to be sold to the highest bidder, and once to auction off the “very white Barry White” to the highest bidder.

My hands were frozen, my face was flaming, my nerves were shot, but the adrenaline flowed. I flitted, floated, glided oh-so-gracefully as AK65 paraded me across the stage. Bidding commenced and before I really realized what was happening, it was down to Serious Boy and Triscuit. Increments of ten, then twenty and then fifty… and sold for $350 to Triscuit.

Triscuit who bought the cow when he could have the milk for free… who claims that it was a donation for a good cause when really we’ve had debates and arguments over the support of this cause over the other equally worthy causes in the world… who knew he was supposed to bid, but didn’t necessarily have to win… Triscuit.

The rest of the weekend was spent in relative relaxation – shopping at the St. Lawrence Market, staying up into the early hours of morning patching holes in the ice rink, cursing the kids, reading Playboy jokes to each other, and watching the coyotes run wild down the path.

Friday, January 28

day 10284: on the block

I feel my insides turning themselves inside out. I can’t think. I can’t work. My mouth is dry, my nerves are completely shot, and all my instincts are telling me to go home, crawl into bed and pray for it to be tomorrow instead of today.

In less than 12 hours, I’m going to be sold to the highest bidder.

What possessed me to agree to this? What on earth possessed me to champion it as a “great fundraising idea?” What the HECK was I thinking?

I don’t know…

I can’t remember…

All I can think of right now is standing on stage in front of 525 people, humbled and hoping that someone out there will bid for me and that the person I want to bid on me will fork out the $$ to win… a date with me…

My mother is going to be there. Triscuit’s mother and grandmother are going to be there. Serious Boy is going to be there. I’m terrified that someone will say something or someone will let something slip. So many people’s feelings involved. So many people to consider…

Somebody hold me… please… I think I’m about to breakdown…

Tuesday, January 25

day 10281: the secret to saving money...

Someone said to take baby steps and start saving by packing a lunch. So I started packing a lunch, but I never ate it. Twelve o'clock hits, my stomach starts to grumble and inevitably, the thing I'm craving is not what I packed. For a while, I ended up spending MORE money by packing a lunch - the costs of packing and the costs of buying something everyday anyway.

Recently, it dawned on me how I could make myself eat my packed lunch. I just need to pack things that I really like to eat... like cookies, ice cream or chocolate cake... mmmm...

Baby steps... it's all about the baby steps.

Monday, January 24

day 10280: I’m in love…

I fell in love today with the prettiest little thing - two of the prettiest little things, actually. I saw them, fell in love, and prayed to the gods above that they would fit. And they did.

The first is black with a halter that ties around the neck and cuts low in the back, with gold/silver beads, white trim and a hem that is cut diagonally… sleek, sexy, multi-occasion kind of thing… The second - turquoise with pink embroidered flowers, spaghetti straps, one line of ruffles on top, more ruffles on the diagonal bottom… cute, funky, something completely out of character for me… both are gorgeous and sexy and totally, utterly hot... even if I do say so myself. But then the lady in the store said the same thing, so it must be true.

I must get them. Even if they do cost almost a week’s salary.

Boys, you may all commence drooling – bidding will start at $50…

Sunday, January 23

day 10279: meeting the parents…

“Be nice,” I said to him. “Don’t be so nervous. She’s really not as bad as you think she is… you only hear my bitching and complaining stories. Besides, I’ve met your mom.”

“Be nice,” I told her. “We’re just friends. He’s been there when I needed him.”

They don’t like each other. Never have. One is scared to death of the other; the other is scared to death of what the other might do to me.

They’ve seen one another a few times before. No words were spoken, no pleasantries exchanged. He called it the stare of “what-they-heck-are-you-doing-in-my-daughter’s-house” and said that it was hard to get to know someone you knew didn’t like you. She called him “that-one-who-didn’t-even-have-the-decency-to-say-hi.”

He may of... and if he did, she never heard him.

Beer delivery, 32 cases of Sleeman… my car filled almost to the brim…

“Mom, this is Triscuit. Triscuit, this is my mom, my aunt and my uncle.”

Pleasantries were exchanged. Conversation was made. Neither felt particularly comfortable, but both survived relatively unscathed.

Hurdle 1 cleared.

Friday, January 21

day 10277: today makes up for all the helluva-crap that happened yesterday

Yesterday was a helluva crappy-ass day. Freak gym accident (no one I know personally), notwithstanding, it had to be one of the most stressful days of my life… bad things at work, left my purse in a cab, scared to death with paranoia that the ambulance was for Triscuit… etcetera, etcetera…

But today… ahhh today... is THAT much better. I’ve heard back from almost all my corporate sponsors (all good news, too, btw), ticket sales for An Evening for Humanity are soaring through the roof, and it’s Friday. Finally.

What more could a girl ask for… :)

Thursday, January 20

day 10276: if only i could print out the images in my mind

Sunrise. Pale pink light seeping through the distant clouds far off in the horizon… the sky is perfectly clear right above. Blue, tinged with streaks of yellow, the lake is calm and undisturbed; the light barely reflecting off the surface. The sun rises a fiery orange ball and reaches its pink tipped fingers towards us beckoning, teasing us to feel the warmth of its touch while our breathes puff in the cold morning air.

Later through the window, as the scenery moves quickly by, a flock of startled starlings fly en mass, framed in pink and yellow sky… the morning sunlight reflecting off their feathers.

Wednesday, January 19

day 10275: woo me with words

I love emails that make you go aw-shucks, blush and feel all warm and gooey inside. I got one of those last night.

It made me go aw-shucks, blush and feel all warm and gooey inside.

And then I dissected it with BMW to get the guy-perspective.

Tuesday, January 18

day 10274: i’ve got nothing on my mind…

It happened one Saturday afternoon. A phone call, then a not-so-innocent text message born out of tiredness, pent up frustration, and a lot of mischievousness, “If I was nothing, you could do me all day…”

“Doing nothing” took on a completely new meaning. It was something to look forward to, something to daydream about, something that would completely take our breaths away. It was our little secret - something that we could say in front of other people when they asked us what we did the evening before. Just like how married people call it “laundry.”

Except that sometimes doing nothing really means just doing nothing. Confusing isn’t it? Especially when you ask the boy what he’s doing tonight and he says “nothing…maybe laundry… oh, I meant real laundry…”

Monday, January 17

day 10273: of all the weird and wonderful things… but name dropping at mickey-d’s??

”thank you on behalf of bo…”

I was in Mcdonald's just now. A woman approached the counter – obviously a little out of it since she budded the entire line and just went up to order. First she wanted water and then she wanted milk, but didn't have enough to pay for the milk. So, instead, she asked for water again and tried to pay for it with a handful of change saying "Thank you on behalf of Bo..."

Strange, I thought, so I asked her how she knew "Bo" and she started rambling off another series of names that made no sense to me whatsoever. I bought her a drink, she lost interest and wandered off.

Bo has no idea who she might be - just that it is a very, very strange coincidence... but kind of a scary one too…

”so why didn’t you and jb ever get together…”

Coffee turned into dinner.

Friday night, my “nerves of steel” failed me, and a frantic phone call was placed to Bo one hour prior to the designated meeting time. Desperation. Panic. The works. Extreme butterflies in my stomach.

“It’s only coffee, not a proposal…” JB’s words rang in my head; not even close to being comforting. Terrifying, more like it.

“Pretend it’s like a job interview…” someone said. We all know how well I do at those.

“Will I recognize him?” I asked, “I haven’t seen him in more than a month.” I had my doubts. I’m not good with names and faces. Everyone looks familiar to me. Response to George’s email was “You look familiar… do I know you from somewhere? DBoat maybe?”

Dinner with Serious Boy (an apt moniker, for sure… he really is the strong, silent type) was fun. Conversation flowed. The food was good. He even passed the sashimi test with flying colours, eating things that even I wouldn’t eat.

But he talked about his exes. Three of them. And then he asked me why JB and I never got together. I hemmed, I hawed, I was jaw-dropping-shocked at the question and stammered out the typical… “But it’s JB.”

We talked about movies and Sideways, and how we both heard that it was fabulous, and did I want to see it next week at Cumberland. “I’m completely swamped,” I said, “What with the fundraiser and all.”

“When do I get to see you again?”

“I don’t know…”

So I invited him over to watch football yesterday with JB, BMW, D & Plboy. The Colts lost, JB’s wings rocked, the nachos were soggy, my puppy-maternal-instincts are back, and all-in-all it was a good time. On the way out, he turned back and handed me a chocolate bar… something we had talked about on Friday, but I’d completely forgotten up until then. 60% cocoa… dark chocolate… mmmm…

I’m still not sure and I think I’m making excuses, but at least I loved the chocolate.

”because you love chocolate…”

Triscuit can be surprisingly sweet at times…completely unexpected and out of the blue. It reminds me of why I fell for him in the first place, and makes it hard for me to forget the gulf of distance that should remain between us. After all, how many guys do you know who would break up a Crunchie bar and hand you all the chocolaty pieces because he thinks you like the chocolate part the best even though you really like the sponge toffee.

My fault for always eating it outside in, chocolate first… saving the best part for last…

Friday, January 14

day 10270 ½: when it rains, it pours…

Getting little butterflies in my tummy thinking about tonight’s coffee. Should be fun, I think.

On a stranger note… walking out of Terroni’s after lunch today, Bo and I bumped into someone I haven’t seen since the summer. In his words, “J! I thought I recognized those beautiful girls!”

It's funny. I once had an itty-bitty-teeny-weeny-little crush on him.

Got back to the office and promptly sent off an email to him asking if he’d be interested in being sold on the Evening for Humanity auction block. Who knows… maybe I’ll bid on him myself… if Serious Boy doesn’t work out.

Have a good weekend guys… it’s going to be a busy one!

day 10270: “don’t screw around tonight…it’s not good for your neck”

Am I allowed to rant and rave about the inefficiencies and ineffectiveness of the Canadian health system if I know nothing about the political background, cutback crap or overworked doctors and nurses?

I had not planned on spending last night in the hospital. I had planned on going to the climbing gym like every other Thursday night, putting in a good three and a half hours of grunting and sweating as I conquered the climbs that have consistently thwarted me, going home, having a nice little cuddle, and that’s about it.

I hadn’t planned on someone decking on the climb beside my climbing partner, hitting him in the head and then sitting in the hospital with him for three hours of worrying and hand-wringing only to be briefly examined by a suspect-competent doctor (patient before us had a cast put on too tightly by the same doctor) and sent on our merry little way.

No Xrays. No painkillers. Nothing but a “Why weren’t you wearing a helmet?” to which our response would be… “Because Dr. Doctor, if you were paying any attention whatsoever, a helmet would not have prevented the type of injury we’re here to have checked out. We’re talking neck compression injury here, not brain trauma. Two completely different things…no, there was no blood…no, you cannot practice your stitching on us.”

If only they understood how much it would have to hurt for Triscuit to even agree to go to the hospital and how much convincing it took (as well as a phone call to his mom) to get him there. If they understood that, they’d send him into the Xray room asap.

This morning, I dropped him off at the First Canadian Place clinic. A few text messages and a phone call later, I find out that he’s given up on getting an Xray because of bureaucratic red-tape which requires him to have a doctor’s requisition and not one from a chiro. Thick-headed silly boy that he is sometimes, he walked out of the clinic because they didn’t say that they would schedule him to see a doctor. And he didn’t push back.

So now, he’s taken off the brace, gone into work and said to-hell-with-it-all and if his neck fails, then he knows something was seriously wrong with it. Otherwise, his chiro doesn’t think it’s too bad (from listening to his description over the phone) so therefore, it’s perfectly fine.

One word… IDIOT.

Why do I worry about someone who refuses to worry about himself?

Thursday, January 13

day 10269: my eyes are open, i'm smiling, but there's nobody home

Happily befuddled state midway through the afternoon. It's been an interesting morning...

...ever see hoards of hungry seniors at a free lunch... and open bar... yeah... interesting...


Wednesday, January 12

day 10268: days like these, i just wish i had a pair of crampons…

The more that’s going on in my life, the less I feel like talking about it. Strange, no?

These past few weeks have been filled with soap-opera-frenzy. Friends angry at friends, people backing out of commitments, stressed filled days, sleepless nights, indecisions, guilt trips, Triscuit, and a whole slew of “we’re-engaged-he-finally-proposed!” Ticket sales for An Evening for Humanity are slowly creeping up, corporate sponsorship is finally starting to come in line and everything is coming together quite nicely. Not exactly what we expected, but better than we had hoped given the situation. It should turn out to be a grand party for an even better cause. If you haven’t bought your ticket yet – go click on the link and buy today.

I must admit that I’m a little nervous about Friday night’s “coffee.” - a little excited, a little curious, a little of everything at the same time. I’ve never been for “coffee” before, so I’m a little apprehensive about the awkward moments after the so-what-do-you-do-for-a-living lines. Except that we’ve already covered that bit before, and small talk has never really been my forte.

No pressure, right?

Monday, January 10

day 10266: it’s only coffee… not like he’s proposing or anything

It just happened out of the blue. An email, completely unexpected, from the middle of nowhere…

So in lieu of the football party would you be interested in going out for some coffee, or maybe even dinner, with me sometime this week?

I’m rather surprised. To say the least, I’m flattered. I’ve only met Serious Boy once before - the time I cleaned him out in poker, the time he got slightly “bemused” on red wine and got a tad handsy under the coffee table. A hand on my knee here, a touch there… I guess I had an inkling of sorts. But I was gracious, thought it was the alcohol talking and that he was just a friendly sort of guy.

That was almost a month ago and I hadn’t really given it a thought since then; until yesterday when I received the email.

I'm just curious enough to say yes… sometime Friday night, maybe, after work and before hockey? Let me know what your schedule is like.

Friday, January 7

day 10263: off the top of my head

Apologies for not posting regularly this week. What with An Evening for Humanity and dealing with Q1 reporting I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone think about weird and wonderful things to write about. Amuse me people… tell me a story…

Organizing an event of such sheer magnitude is a lot more difficult than we initially anticipated. We’ve dealt with personality clashes, egos, indecision, miscommunication, non-communication, tempers, tears, triumphs, etc. We’ve hit walls, yet soared through other hurdles. With one exception, things are progressing nicely. In about an hour, I’ll know if all is for naught and whether our fundraising event will be a success, or if we’ll be lucky to sell 100 tickets.

It's a good cause, my friends. I urge you to make your personal donations by January 11th. The Canadian government is matching all donations made until then. I'm off to pledge mine... pledge yours too...

Wednesday, January 5

day 10261: hate me. i deserve it.

No matter how I've changed in the past year, I do not like this person I've become. I've lost patience, tolerance and the ability to actually care for someone other than myself. I'm constantly on the defensive and snap back at even the slightest thing that sounds like a critcism.

In other words, I am a b-itch and everyone should hate me, but they don't.

Monday, January 3

day 10259: an apology of astronomical proportions

Once upon a time in a land not that far away, there was a wannabe girlie-girl with a temper as hot as the summer sand. She was a stubborn, proud, pigheaded, idiotic fool at times. She hated to be wrong, hated to be made a fool of, hated-beyond-hate to be criticized. Worse of all, she knew it, but couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

Little things would strike her off. The incomprehension of other people’s actions, the misgivings of intention; it mattered not. It would eat away at her until one day she would blow up in a geyser of hot fury and annoyance. Hell hath no fury like a wannabe girlie-girl scorned.

Worse of all, the manifestation of ill-temperedness was selective. Not colleagues, co-workers, cousins or friends. Only immediate family – people that she knew deserved more respect, appreciation, and kindness than everyone else that she encountered in life – was at the receiving end of the nastiness.

Alas, though our villain of this story tried, beyond tried to control her temper, it was not to be. She lost her temper once again, refused to eat crow, and let her dear sister fly off to la-la land without hearing the appropriate apologies of astronomical proportions.

Sure, there were miscommunications and misunderstandings. There were reasons our villain behaved as she did. But right or not, it was definitely wrong not to make amends and to go huffing off in stereotypical-teenage-attitude. Grow up already.

And so she extends the white flag in a move of ultimate apologetic surrender… and offers this as a consolatory compromise…

… perhaps next time we schedule ahead-of-time the get-together times…
… and we don’t tell each other how pissed we are at one another while sitting at the airport when it’s too late to do anything about it…