Day 10122: WYSIWYG

What you see is what you get. I'm not an enigma, not a mystery. My life is an open book for anyone to read. If I had secrets, would I be blogging? There are some things I hold back on talking about, but really truly, I believe most things are fair game because they happen to me... my life, my story, my thoughts...

Sometimes I don't care who knows what and who doesn't know what. It's hard to keep track, and it doesn't really matter. So what if anyone who reads this knows that I and XYZ are doing 1 or 2 or 3... does anyone really give a flying fuck anyway... particularly if it's about people they don't even know. What the hell difference does it make.

I've had this discussion with a few people over the past few weeks how behaviour can change with group 1 or group 2 and how group 1 can never know about what one does with group 2... can one truly be themselves if they have to censor their actions and behaviours with supposed friends.

That said, I don't like hiding things. I don't like secrets, and I sure as hell don't like double standards. Now get the fuck out of my way. I'm hungover, pissed off as anything and quite frankly in a really rotten mood today.

Day 10121: Miscue

Grocery shopping today, I passed a sign that said "Cookie Hut." Somehow in my little daydream world I read "Cookie Slut"... just as I was thinking... "damn, what I wouldn't do for a cookie right now..."

Day 10120: No way, Jose...

A: Just toss all the stuff you haven't touched in four months. You don't need it.
J: Nuh-uh, emotional attachments...
A: Then just put it aside and go through it later.
J: Nope... gonna do it now
A: You're RUNNING OUT OF TIME!!!
J: Don't care.
A: Pack rat.
J: Look who's talking

Boxes of treasures from each stage of my life - things I can never part with and will never bring myself around to throw out...

*drum roll please...*

kiddie-hood...
~ wooden cork gun with the chipped and faded red paint and the little cork that doesn't really pop anymore
~ little red fire engine with a crusty yellow plastic ladder... *sigh* firemen
~ 1 Disney Dollar (not as crisp as it used to be)
~ plastic red Santa's boot piggy bank filled to the brim with pennies... there must be a billion dollars in there $$$$
~ ragedy and torn Spiderman comic books - did I ever SAY that I was girlie-girl???
~ a pink rosary from my baptism - I always thought it was the prettiest thing I've ever seen (just to look at, wouldn't know what to do with it otherwise...)
~ my dad's rosary from when he was a but a kiddie
~ a korean mini mask my dad gave me once upon a time

teenie-hood...
~ um... oodles and oodles of pix of my movie star crush. Did you know that they make playing cards too? :D
~ half-filled sketch book after half-filled sketch book
~ my 365 driver's learner permit
~ my driving test results
~ a poem I wrote in OAC about a guy who's wife cheats on him
~ complete set of Upper Deck Blue Jays baseball cards from 1991 - or so the guy claimed when he sold it to me for $5
~ pictures of people I went to high school with, but I haven't talked to in 10 years

semi-adult-hood...
~ first kick ass rubber duckies race id pass
~ a little bottle of sand from happy place #1
~ little white clam shell from Del Mar
~ rock from happy place #3
~ many rocks from happy place #3
~ many rocks from Del Mar
~ dried up purple orchid from V-day
~ more quarter-filled sketch books
~ winnie-the-pooh
~ funky black stone letter opener that Sista bought on some trip once upon a time
~ Sponge Bob Squarepants poster

... and they wonder why it takes me so long to pack... *sigh* I need a drink.

Day 10119: Life in a box...

The packing has begun in earnest. Boxes are piled sky high throughout my little house waiting for the little treasures and trinkets deemed worthy to be carried to the next place. I've been immersed in clouds of dust, hacking and coughing my way through the storage closets for two days now and I've barely made a noticeable dent. Instead, I almost managed to bury my cousin under a landslide of well-thumbed, well-loved books that won't be making it downtown with me. I also managed to squish the dog under a mountain of old clothes and linens. I'm surprised I haven't suffered some unfortunate mishap in my sleep.

This is the fourth move in five years... you'd think I'd be used to this by now. So any volunteers? Promise you get first pick of all the goodies I've got to leave behind...

Day 10114: A bottle of Spumante and a glass of champagne...

I just signed my lease!!!!! WHOOO HOOOO!!! Freedom.

I'm off to Windsor for the next couple of days - catch y'all later...!

Day 10113: Fluffy pink clouds and other bs...

Last night I dreamt I was preggers. And I didn't know who the father was. I'm not sure which terrified me more... being preggers, not knowing who the father was, or the fact that I was a tornado chaser and was somehow floating in an anti-gravity room when a tornado ripped the ceiling off (but left the roof intact).

Cross your fingers for me, folks, I might have found a new place to crash my sorry little head. No lake view, all amenities, parking, maybe locker... new paint, and new flooring... $1,025 all in. I hope.

And in conclusion... it's much easier to achieve distance when the boy don't email you back no mo'.

Here's to the future... it's gotta be better than this...

Day 10112: Dear Uncle…

I wish I could not hate you. I wish I could do something that causes you the same amount of pain and grief that you’ve caused my family over the past few months. I wish I could rewind the clock a few years past and make sure that you never reentered our lives, and what was past was past and that you would never influence our future the way you did. I wish I saw past the smiley, toothy exterior and saw the empty shell of a man beneath the well-dressed-well-mannered façade.

You are a fraud. I wish I never met you.

You swore up and down to my family that you would never hurt us, that you only had our best interests at heart and that you only wanted to love and be loved. You pretended hurt and anger when the family questioned your values and past. We stood by you, supported you and fought for you. We were prepared to defend you to the point of alienating our family, and, we did alienate the family - remember the fights and the rifts that took months to heal. But we were strong and we weathered through it and patched things up ourselves – no thanks to you.

We believed in you even when no one else did. When everyone said to look at your past and that a man’s character lies in his history, we pushed back and said that people could change, and that you were just a victim of circumstance. You deserved a chance at happiness just as much as my mom deserved a chance at happiness. Little did we know that you were circumstance and we were your victims.

We were blinded to you. The missed Christmas mornings because you were too proud to share them with the family – the missed family get-togethers because you THOUGHT the family didn’t accept you for who you were. But do you blame them when you’ve lied to us all along? They were the ones who saw the truth and you wanted to limit exposure to them in case they saw more of the real you.

I’ve never believed that people have one grand purpose in life. Rather, our purpose lies in the people we meet and the people we impact. Positively or negatively, our decisions and actions influence those around us – our families, our friends, our casual acquaintances. I like to think that all the things I’ve imparted on the people around me were positive experiences and that no one has suffered unduly because of a decision that I have made purely out of selfishness… because it makes ME happy, or because it’s MY life, and there’s nothing anyone else can do about it.

There are experiences and people that we treasure throughout our lives. There are good experiences and then there are the experiences that quite frankly, we could have done without. All we can do is learn from them and hope that a similar situation will never occur again and how to deal with it should we be unlucky enough to cross that path.

You can brush this off as angry ramblings of someone without as much life-experience as you. Or you can take to heart what I’ve said. My point is not about love and marriage because I don’t believe that exists anymore. I’ve grown up and lost my girlish idealistic view of the world and see it for the cruel harshness it really is and that people just go around taking what they want and never really giving anything back. The point I make is one of human decency and respect for your fellow beings. In doing what you did, you’ve shown us how little you respect us, and how little you care. You’ve shown how selfish you are and that you can take a freely given love, twist it beyond recognition and throw it back into someone’s face. I no longer have any respect for you whatsoever. You’ve used us and lied to us, made us believe in something that didn’t exist.

The next time you promise someone happy ever after, security, love and respect, think it a hundred times through and then a hundred times more. It’s your choice what you do with your life. It’s not too late to change your ways and find yourself happiness. No matter how much I would love to see you when you’re seventy, alone, probably drunk and miserable because you’ve alienated everyone who has ever loved you; because you’ve never taken the time or the energy to form something lasting and because you never saw a good thing when it stared you in the face. No matter how much I would love to see you fail at everything you do. I wouldn’t and I couldn’t wish that on anyone – not even you.

Instead, I wish you the best and hope you find what you’re looking for. And when you find her I hope she’s smart enough to see you for what you are and that maybe, just maybe, you might deserve another chance and she doesn’t break your heart and spit it back in your face. Karma. What goes around, comes around.

Day 10109: 13 hours of sleep later...

Every morning on my way to the subway, I pass by the big Loblaws grocery store down the street. Some days I'm on time, most day's I'm running oh-just-a-tad late... On those rare, rare days I'm on time, I get treated to one of the funniest sights I've ever seen in TO...

The grocery store opens at 8:00. 7:55 (and sometimes even earlier), there are people lined up in front of the half opened gates. Old men, young family-aged women, people with more time to spare than they'd like to admit... Shopping carts in hand, raring to go...

They crouch low over the shopping cart handle like a kid prepping for a bmx race. Glance sideways at the competition out of the corners of their eyes... jostle for the pole position, pushing and shoving until they manage to get the very tip of their shopping cart under the gate...

And all because they want to be the very first customer into Loblaws. The very first person to buy yesterday's leftover unsold already vine ripened tomatoes...

Will wackos never cease to amaze me...

Day 10107: The Family

Since I can remember, every major event in my life has been precided over by The Family... as in aunts, uncles, and cousins getting together to decide what is the best alternative, and what should be done in each situation. They met when we were deciding what uni I should attend. They met when we decided what uni my sister should attend. They met when the maternal one decided she wanted to remarry. And now, they will meet because I have made my decision not to move home.

I wait with bated breathe for the representatives that will show up at my door in twenty-one minutes. The weight of the gavel is before me. It is time I stand up for what I know is right. They will not be able to sway me. I must be strong. Or I will die trying.

Day 10106: Revelations…

~ happy place #3 (marine railroad at severn falls) isn’t so happy anymore – it’s become stale, slimey and stagnant with overpowering gas fumes from idling powerboats
~ rain does not make former happy place #3 any happier
~ living in a car is a comfortable, slightly cramped alternative… but definitely better than the Fisherman’s Wharf motel in Meaford
~ make sure you have access to a washroom or port-o-let at 6:30 in the morning when you wake up and you REALLY HAVE TO GO…
~ it is possible to check into a motel for an hour or two to shower, give the dog a bath and check right out
~ you find the weirdest things in the middle of nowhere…
~ happy place #4 has been promoted to happy place #3, and may be a really close tie for happy place #2
~ if someone knocks on your window in the middle of the night, it’s perfectly ok to tell them to “go away, I’m trying to sleep” after which they feel really bad and have little minor guilt trips through the night that you’re sleeping in his driveway when you could be sleeping inside
~ sleeping inside is not a good idea
~ living on the water makes me happy
~ the floorboards squeak, the bedroom door squeaks… the bed squeaks…
~ if you see a sign for a historic site that points you onto a small country road, don’t bother – chances are you’ll drive right by it and never find it, cuz it’s a rock in the middle of some farmer’s field with so little significance that you’ll forget you even tried to look for it
~ the little dinner at Discovery Harbour in Penetanguishene makes really good baklava – the restaurant that starts with a “B” on Beach Blvd in Hamilton does not
~ if you drink all day, chances are, you will drink all night too
~ it’s ok to park at the harbour overnight if you have an RV, but if you just want to sleep in your car, it’s not ok – even if you volunteer to pay for parking there
~ kinsmen does not = KKK
~ the dog does not like to sleep on an air mattress. She also refuses to eat her own food while on vacation
~ you can’t hate happy people just because they’re happy, but you can hate them if they somehow made you sad
~ you can’t trust a real estate agent especially if their price is a good 25% higher than everyone elses
~ emails from your mother are never good
~ a kiddie pool isn’t just for kids… never buy the baby kiddie pool – it won’t fit a real baby

Day 10102:  Finding Jam-o

  
I'm getting really rather excited.  In one hour and fifteen minutes, I will be off on my own little weekend adventure.  The dog and I are hopping in the car, stopping briefly at Canadian Tire for flashlights and an air mattress and then heading towards parts unknown.  First stop, happy place #3 - somewhere on the Severn River.  No idea what the place is called, but I'll know it when I see it.  Hopefully, I can find a little diner or something, use their port-o-let before bed and then bunk down in the back of my car.  If not, worse comes to worse... well... I've done it before. 

And from there, pure joyous freedom.  No one to answer to except myself.  I can go skinny dipping in the morning, roast marshmallows over the car lighter at night.  It'll be great.  And Monday will come and I'll be back - refreshed, rejuvenated and ready to face the world again.

Have a good weekend people...

Day 10101:  Eternity

My window overlooks a billboard advertising Calvin Klein’s Eternity.  Two very happy looking people frozen with perpetual smiles gaze lovingly at each other as if by some chance spraying on eau de toilette has given them the secret of love, life and happiness… they lie in bed, he’s got the sleepyhead-tousled-I-just-woke-up unshaven look, and she’s got the I’m-so-in-love-with-you-I-don’t-care-how-bad-your-morning-breath-is look.  I feel a little like I’m intruding in their secret little world every time I look out the window, complete with the little snickerly “hee-hee” that you sometimes get when you see two people on the subway... you know what I’m talking about.  A touch here, a stray lock of hair pushed back there, it’s refreshing in a world where everyone seems to be out for themselves.

Two people married for love; each with a history of past relationships and marriage – one ended in failure, one in circumstance.  Together forever, they sing, happy karaoking with their friends.  Karaoke because he refuses to line dance, and in wanting to spend time with him, she’s given up some of the things she once liked to do.  She brings two daughters into the family – he, two sons… a modern day Brady Bunch.  The kids get along well enough – they don’t live at home anyway, so it really doesn’t matter.  Of course, the girls are a tad more happy and supportive for the happy couple than the boys… but isn’t that always the case?

Fast forward three years.  Boys are off doing God knows what.  One had a stint as a part-time Aussie, one had a place cooking pasta at Scaramouche. Girls, oh those responsible, well-behaved, caring girls, are doing the responsible work-life balance with the occasional partying to “liven” things up a bit.  After all, girls just wanna have fun, right?  Oh, and the happy couple, well… they aren’t so happy anymore.  And really, they aren’t a couple anymore.  It’s not really a secret.  The family knows.

Two people both in their fifties, with years of supposed history and experience try to make a go at a better life together and fail.  How then, can two people in their twenties or early thirties even hope to successfully accomplish something that by all human nature is inevitably impossible?  And then still expect to provide valid “guidance” and “advice” AND expect to be taken seriously?

Am I being selfish in thinking that I want no part in it.  Up, down, upside down, it matters little what the outcome is because I want to stay as far away from it as possible.  These days I’ve been walking around like a chicken with it’s head cut off – very zombie-like, living the day in, day out, hoping that everything really does look better in the morning… word of advise, it doesn’t always.  Sometimes things look even worse.

I am going to do something to improve my situation… I’m calling in all favours, calling in all loans, paying of El Banco de Mama, finding a place on the waterfront, selling my dear, dear JP and taking control of my life.  It’s time to pull myself out of the funk – it’s not my life, it’s not my problem.  I need to be responsible for me at the moment.  Sounds selfish, I know, but I’m the only one who has to deal with the guilt.  No one else. 

Ironically, this is today’s horoscope from the Globe & Mail…

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 23 – Dec. 21):  Stop rushing around and take time out to think about what you are doing and where you are going.  Sagittarius is a sign which likes to take action but action for its own sake rarely results in anything worthwhile, so slow down a bit and ponder the meaning of your existence.  There is a grand purpose, despite what the skeptics might say.

So, off I go tomorrow to ponder the meaning of my existence.  The dog and I will hop in the car and drive to parts unknown.  Where I end up, I end up… even if it’s the parking lot at the end of the street. 

Day 10100: I could use one of these right now...

Amma

They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I only wish life gave me lemons... that would be a whole heck of a lot more fun!!!

Prince concert was great! I had such an amazingly awesome time... laughing, cheering, clapping until my hands were raw. Who knew that His Royal Purpleness was sooo cool in person. I can sense sudden wave of Prince fan-dom coming over me. Quick! Someone give me some CDs... going into withdrawal... urgh...

Day 10099: Wear Something Purple

I'm busting out! Gotta do me something spontaneous and exciting... something I've never done before. Something... Chasing Liberty-ish.  Chick flicks and teeny-bopper movies are so inspirational...

I want to hop on a plane and disappear - take only my passport, my wallet and a toothbrush. Where I end up, I end up and if I don't come back, then so be it. 

Let the fates decide. They can do with me what they will. I no longer care...

Day 10098: Drunken whispers…

“I’m not allowed to jump you anymore,” I whisper to him softly.  We wait by the elevator to leave.  The club is packed, the music is booming, base turned up full blast.  I’m toasty and happy, and oh-so-definitely-not-horny (not that I’d ever admit it anyway)… 

He. Laughed. At. Me.

So sums up my weekend.  Which wasn’t particularly spectacular or good or fun sometimes, but I survived, and now I’m home.  Dizzy and headachy, recovering from who-knows-what I consumed and/or drank.  Cuz I have no idea whatsoever.

Friday was a fun kind of day.  Seven hours in the car with Triscuit listening to Prince in prep for the concert on Tuesday.  Bored out of my mind.  Seven hours… what the heck was I thinking… obviously though, it wasn’t distance.  I should have been thinking distance.  But all I could think of was “Jump him, jump him, jump him…” while my conscience said “No, no, no, no, noooooo!!”  And as luck would have it, my bladder kept saying, “Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee…” 

Boy leaves me alone in my downtown Montreal scummy looking hotel room.  It’s late, I haven’t eaten – he’s got a plate of dinner saved for him by his Frenchy friends who like Grey Goose and red wine…

“See you tomorrow,” he says as he ducks into the elevator. “Go out for a walk or something.  Explore downtown.”  No be careful or lock your door, or any other equally concerned/caring statement...

Enter stage right, Malfoy and other members of the team.  We go for dinner, have some beers, make merry… and end up at Triple X.  Which is exactly what it sounds like - a peeler joint, a strip club - somewhere I never expected to go in my life, and probably would never go again (although I’ve heard that they make a TON of money, but that’s beside the point).

I kept my eyes politely averted. (How the heck did she do that on the pole???)

Saturday morning, early races.  People were late, so we grabbed people left, right, and center.  Ran to the marshalling area, got on the boat, paddled and lost.  Second race... oops, we missed the call, and ended up waiting for a couple of hours for our rescheduled race where we did worse than the first race.  Bad omen for the weekend. 

Dinnertime.  Forty five minutes stuck in traffic.  Waited another hour for roomies who were stuck in worse traffic... ended up drinking cranberry and gins and eating appetizers at the bar.  I'd wax eloquently about the succulence of the escargots that melded perfectly with the tasty tartness of the vinegary balsamic tomatoe and the tender morsels of chicken and mushroom tartlet with the flakey cripiness of the paper thin phyllo, but really, I was more happy with my cranberry and gin.  I swear those 'shrooms looked a little poisonous.

An eon and two elevator rides later, Club 737, multiple shots with an ailing PlBoy who refused to order the drink-du-jour (bj's), and an idiotic display of misplaced affection... I have come to the conclusion, that regardless of how little I wear or how cute I am when I'm drunk, boys don't like me.  Simple truth and fact.

Home in the wee hours of the morning, to be up two and half hours later and on the water for our 7:54am race.  Shameful, I know, but I was still a wee bit toasty.  Paddling my guts out with an already spinning head didn't really help un-quease the stomach.  Nor did the bowl of cereal I was "forced" to skarf down so I'd have energy to "race".  Not like we did, anyway.  We missed the final race for reasons that relate directly to Malfoy, but shall remain unexplained for lack of venting energy.  But, can we say that we don't like being ripped off and we don't like nasty emails...

After endless hours of shopping and food fun, we head home, trying to salvage what remained of the weekend, trying, beyond hope to transform it into a "great" weekend.  Spoiled once again by Malfoy et al who just happened to be at the same reststop as us... what the hell are the chances?  Too funny...

Now, can someone get me an Advil or ten, a good masseur and a shotgun so I can blast that freaking bagpiper outside to kingdom come... 

Day 10095: Excuses...

~ 5 in a car would be too uncomfortable
~ BMW bailed on me - I was stuck without a ride
~ how the heck do I get up to Whitby, of all places?
~ I don't wanna be a third wheel
~ I wanna get into town early and PARTY... (ahem... with who?)
~ I don't wanna drive by myself...

Ok, I admit it.  Probably not the smartest thing to do to ride down to Montreal with Triscuit, but hey, what's done is done... now get off my back or I won't tell you about the backless wonder and kabuki pants I packed for the trip...

Today's horoscope:
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 23 - Dec. 21): You have learnt many things over the years but how many of those things have you experienced for yourself? The sun in Leo at this time of year urges you to be more adventurous, to discover first hand what life is about. There is only so much you can learn from books and other people. There is no end to what you can learn for yourself.

Day 10094: Why working from home just doesn't work...

I meant well.  Yesterday afternoon, stupified and suffocated by the unrelentless summer heat of downtown TO, I packed up my bags with the variety of assortment of things I was to work on, and came home.  Actually, staggered home, more like it.  With a laptop, a three inch binder full of oodles of working goodness, and two bags, it was a struggle not to pass out.  I tried, I tried really, really hard, but with a bag slung over each shoulder, I must have looked like I was going to war... or something.

It started off well.  Almost on the dot of 8:30, I called into reception,  "I won't be coming in today, Ms. Reception-Lady-who-barely-knows-my-name.  I'm going to be working from home today... by the way, how do I check voicemail from home"  (note... not that I ever get any in the first place but one must keep up with the illusion that one deserves her pay)

I tried, it didn't work.  I logged on to my email (and have been religiously checking it, for all the two emails that I've received today...) and mailed our tech guy for instructions - which so happened to be COMPLETELY different (and much easier) than what the receptionist had told me.

So, finally settled, I decide to set up my laptop to work on, checking email on my slow Rogers-lite account (I sooo regret downgrading), but horror of horrors... I had thought that I had an extra power cord at home... NOPE!  Damn... can't turn on laptop unless I absolutely need it... can't even download stuff from laptop to home computer because Ms. Genius here, forgot the silly little memory key, and doesn't have a spare.

Well then, I'll just have to take a mental break, walk the dog, eat breakfast while I decide what the heck I'm going to do.  Luckily, I had printed out a lot of tedious small print data to look at - that should keep me occupied for a good little while.  Ugh... breakfast isn't agreeing with me.  Maybe I shouldn't have eaten expired eggs - they smelled fine, and only tasted a little weird, but no big deal, right?  Ugh.  The aftertaste is killing me... I've brushed thrice, and still can't get the eggy sulpher taste out of my mouth.  I've decided that I'm done with eggs for now - they make me want to puke.

Now dizzy, nauseous and half blind from staring at size 7 font, I decide to take a "20 minute power nap" instead of eating lunch.  I've never before in my life been able to limit my "20 minute power naps" to 20 minutes... *strrrrrrrrrretch, yawn*... an hour later, feeling only a little refreshed, but also feeling a little groggy from oversleeping, I wake up.

Crap!  I haven't checked email or voicemail in AN HOUR!!!  What if someone's trying to reach me... yeah, right.

Afternoon, not so much better.  Fielded a few phone calls, dealing with a few odds and ends here and there, but the bulk of the work can't be done until other people get back to me... 

So, finally tally... working at home = squat done.  Oy, I'm so going to get fired. 

Day 10093 1/2:  No A/C... dying...

A/C at work blew this morning... my cube faces west so the afternoon sun is killing me.  I'm sweating like a hotdog grilling on the barbie.  Ick, what a non-girlie-girl image.  My skirt is sticking to me, and riding up with every single tiny movement...

Waiting in the lovely airconditioned lobby of FCP waiting for BMW to come down and lend me a bag so I can take everything home and work there in relative comfort.  Red head guy carrying lunch and a pack of smokes walks into the lobby.

"Woooo, weeee...." *whistle*

I turn my head to look at him, thinking what the heck?  Who's he whistling at?  He looks at me, immediately turns bright splotchy red, and mutters,

"Sorry, wrong person..."

Day 10093:  Gone Fishin'

So, there's a guy I see on the subway almost every morning.  He gets on at my stop uptown, and gets off at my stop downtown.  He's probably 50-ish or so, beer belly, shaggy salt-and-pepper hair, unruly beard, always the same grubby white t-shirt and dark blue jeans.  He's eloquent, fascinating, definitely opinionated... and he talks to himself.  Not the normal kind of muttering one would expect from a self-talker, but full blown conversations as if he's talking to an imaginary friend.  Sounds almost like he's rehearsing for a play.  He talks, pauses to "listen", answers, and so the process goes... all the way downtown.

Interesting...

They've talked politics, had arguments, talked about weekend plans and drinking with buddies... man... this guy has more of a life than I do...

I'm jealous!!!  :)

Day 10092:  Today...

- panic attack - couldn't breathe, couldn't stop tearing... chest hurt
- went for a walk to starbucks.  paid $1.50 for a cup of hot water with a little bit of flavour.
- came back - still couldn't stop crying...
- went for lunch - walked aimlessly for an hour - ended up in a church
- boys choir
- couldn't stop crying...
- finally stopped.
- headed back to work
- found quiznos.  long line. went to mcdonalds.
- filet o fish and a cheeseburger...
... excuse me while i go puke my guts out.

Day 10091 1/2:  Downtown Toronto, lakefront living for only $350/month...

Downtown, lakefront, 10 minutes walk to Queen and Yonge, close to all amenities, restaurants, bars, etc.  All for the low, low, LOW price of $350/month...
 
... let me begin by telling you the story of a young, naive, possibly spoiled girl (who shall remain nameless) who wanted nothing more than a brand new car.  Life was good - good job, low rent, good friends... great lifestyle.  So happy as she was, she bought one - a black little Vibe, she nicknamed JP.  Alas, things were not meant to be for the poor little girl.  Somewhere along the process, she was screwed by the dealer and forced to use up her entire life savings and borrow exorbitant amounts from El Banco de Mama to pay for her dream car, not realizing, of course, that El Banco de Mama would have crazy inhuman exorbitant repayment demands as well.  Then came a time of trouble, and the girl (who is no longer as young and naive as she used to be...but that story, we'll save for another time... oh wait... read Day 10085...), strapped for cash, felt cornered and hopeless.  Until one day, a not-so-little fairy (aka ICBBQ) sat down beside her and listened to her bitch and complain... while he spoke, oh-so-happily of the new condo lease he had just signed... downtown, lakefront property... 10 minutes walk to King and Yonge... close to amenities, restaurants and bars, all for the low, low... HELL-NOT-SO-LOW price of $1250/month (give or take a penny or two).
 
WTF???  Who can afford rent of $1250/month?
 
"Not I!" thought the poor little girl, and went back to bitching and complaining about the crazy monthly payments she was making to El Banco de Mama.  Crazy monthly payments which after her high cost of living will leave her with $500 in the bank... if she's lucky, and IF she sticks to the budget that she's already gone over for the month.
 
*Sigh*  Resigned to her fate, she stared gloomily at the Swiss Chalet chicken sandwich and soup she bought, but didn't really feel like eating... more money down the drain... *sigh* ... how to live downtown, away from El Banco de Mama, but still be able to make the crazy inhuman exorbitant loan payments... hmmmm...
 
Then all of a sudden.  A brainwave.  An idea of such great magnitude, that I (oops SHE) was dumbstruck.  For a split second, she couldn't think of what to say, but then... then, the words just started pouring out.  Can't sell the car, can't figure out how to make MORE money, not willing to give up the great lifestyle... so what if... No, could it work?  YES!!!  SHE COULD LIVE IN THE CAR!!!
 
expenses: 
                    monthly parking downtown lot...       $200.00
                    dogsitting when not "home"...              150.00
 
                    total cost                                                 $350.00 /month
 
$350/month ... too good to be true?  Oh, but it isn't.  In fact, it's so ridiculously possible that I don't know why I never thought about it before... so ridiculously affordable, that I don't know why more people don't do it.  Sure, it may be a little unorthodox, and maybe a little teeny weeny bit cramped, but I'm positive that the Toot and I will be quite comfortable.  It'll be cosy if nothing else.  AND, it gives me options... 
 
A nice air mattress, a ton of pillows a sleeping bag or two - a couple of curtains for a little *ahem* privacy... what more does a girl need.  She's got showers and a locker at the climbing gym.  There's restaurants, movie theatres, bathrooms and friends nearby... she's got privacy, NO ROOMMATE, no utilities cost, A VIEW... what more could a girl possibly want...
 
Have house, will travel - how easy can it be... car-living... Ahhhh, that is the life...  I'm so excited, I'm going home to pack!
 

Day 10091:  The Rules of Engagement...

What are the rules of breakup?  While neither the dumper nor the dumpee, my lack of experience in all things relationship makes me uncertain as to how I should react.  While certainly not-so-happy about the turn of events, I don't believe I'm devastated or depressed, or even too-too sad.  Actually, I'd consider it more a "quiet thoughtfulness" type of feeling - one of self-reflection, and ponderment.  Sure, there's the missing and the thinking-about-what's-he-doing-now, and the I-know-he'll-love-this-sticker-for-his-snowboard-so-let's-buy-it-for-him kind of thing, but on the whole, I think I'm doing rather well. 
 
But what to do, if say, he calls?  We're still friends.  We'd both like to stay good friends.  No hard feelings if I can't love you, but I love being your friend, right?  Do I hang up on him, tell him to p-off, screen his calls?  I still like talking to him, and no, there were no pangs of heartache or anything when he called me 9:00 Sunday night to find out how my day went - which when you think about it, he's never really done that before.  He must have been extremely bored or something.  But, it was nice to know that he still thinks about me, and gosh-darned-it... dare I even think he might *gasp* miss me a little... whatever... it doesn't matter anymore. 
 
And what to do when people ask me about him?  As far as I'm concerned, (and in BMW's words...) "it was the world's worse-kept secret."  Everyone knew, or everyone suspected.  Those who didn't were even more delusional than I was.  And yes, I think I do have a slight problem telling people that we've "broken up" since the official word was that we were never seeing each other in the first place.  But, too, he has a right to his privacy, and it doesn't bode well if I, in all my drunken glory, go around spewing stuff that no one really has the right to know if he doesn't want them to... though from my perspective, I really couldn't care less who knows and who doesn't. 
 
Q:  "What's Triscuit doing today?"
A:  "...ummm... how the hell should I know?" 
 
Q:  "Why isn't Triscuit here?"
A:  "...ummm... because we didn't call him..."
 
(...insert cheering from the studio audience... "Good answer!  Good answer!!!"... )
  
We were better friends than lovers.  I can keep on deluding myself that the past year was spent in winter-wonderland-pink-cotton-candy-Santa's-village type of bliss, but why bother.  Half the time we were together, we were hanging out with our other friends, the other half, we were rollerblading, climbing, snowboarding, movie-watching or just sleeping - oh yeah, there was a lot of sleeping... napping, dozing, falling-asleep-while-he-watched-tv... and yup... mostly just plain sleeping (damn).  But really, we were just doing the everyday hanging out with a good friend kind of thing.  No romantic walks on the beach (except in Cali), no fancy schmancy dinner dates... just a lot of plain everyday honesty-to-goodness kind of fun. 

So it's been a week.  It's over and done with.  The hardest days are done, and I rather like to think that I'm somewhat ready to move on.  And the quest for continued friendship?  Yeah, I can deal with that... maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but someday... it won't be the same, but it can still be fun.  Someday...  ;)
 

Day 10088:  Perspective...

I must remember... no matter how bad things go in my life, no matter how crappy things might seem, there's always something far, far worse than anything I can possibly imagine. 
 
I just found out that some friends just lost their baby girl on delivery.  To go from a moment of supreme happiness to one of ultimate sadness...
 
My heart is aching for them, but there's nothing I can do.  They're Triscuit's friends.  I've only met them twice, yet I feel like I've known them forever.  And had circumstances been any different, I know that I would be there now trying my best to help them through this time.  But they're not, and I can't do anything except think about them and pray.
 
Life is good.  Treasure it always.  May the gods be with you, S & MC... 
 

Day 10087: In search of the girlie-girl... the continuing saga

I've worked hard over the past year to rediscover that little imp of a princess buried deep inside of me. I’ve lotioned and lathered, plucked and tweezed, shopped until I’ve dropped, suffered countless blisters from pretty and pretty impractical shoes, learned to smile prettily, pout prettily, and all those other nice “now-do-what-I-want-please” kinds of things. And to what avail, you might ask. Well, the answer, of course, would be none whatsoever.

Quite simply put – no matter how much pink I now have in my wardrobe, no matter that I wear skirts and dresses and heels to work at least three days out of five (if not more, might I add), no matter that I can now occasionally flirt with a total stranger and have him literally eating out of my hands, no matter that I’ve mastered the girlie basics of make-uptry and can apply liner, blush, shadow, mascara, lipstick and gloss all within four minutes and twenty-eight seconds – I’m still that shy awkward little girl who imagined herself being a princess for Halloween when she was seven, but ended up being a clown.

In the continuing saga of the quest for girlie-girlness, I bought fab new nine west sandals: black leather criss-cross, white stitching and the cutest little heel imaginable. Of course, after only an eon of wearing them (read: one and a half weeks), the heel isn’t so cute anymore, the leather is a little scuffed and who knew that the criss-cross would give me blisters in four different, yet very painful places. Regardless, I’ve persevered and worn them again and again, and smiled happily to myself as I look at my bright pink shiny pedicure.

“I am reaching true girlie-girlness,” I tell myself on my way to work this morning. “I’ve got a great outfit on. I’m already planning what I’m going to wear tomorrow… something pink, I think…“

“Look at me! Look at me!!” my heart screams as I walk through the Eaton Centre. “Look how far I’ve come from the girl who used to wear really icky baggy clothes and those funny Reebok pump sneakers... Yeah me!!!”

I walk with confident, BUT lady-like steps into the office lobby, march straight into the elevator where, oh shit… I stop dead in my tracks. Or rather, I’m forced to stop. My heel is caught… in the elevator door crack. And all I think as I desperately try to free my cute not-so-new sandal from it’s evil metal captor was… so close, so close, so close… every time the door tried to shut… on my shoe.

Day 10086: the littlest of things...

~ kisses on my shoulder in the middle of the night
~ stickers just for the heck of it
~ goofy little mischievious lopsided grins
~ winks when no one else is watching
~ fingers running through my hair
~ playing with his curls
~ falling asleep curled up in his arms
~ ice cream fights
~ the sparkle in his eyes when he's thinking about something "special"
~ double takes

Day 10085: Goodbye Triscuit... it's been fun...

He called himself my lover. I never really knew what to call him… friend with benefits, I guess, if I had to label it as anything. I always refused to define anything, justifying it to myself by saying that it was no one’s business but our own, and that really, it was just another label, and that it didn’t really matter whether or not he called me his girlfriend, because we were happy. We were great friends. I was happy being with him, and that was all that mattered and that it was ok that he didn’t want to commit, because I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life anyway.

Once upon a time, I thought I was one of the luckiest girls in the world… he was cool – he knew so much that I didn’t, taught me to do so much, introduced me to new things, new thoughts, new concepts. In the past year, I’ve gone mountain biking, kayaking, canoe-trip-camping, learned how to rollerblade somewhat properly, played hooky to go snowboarding, you name it, I probably did it. I had someone to hang out with, someone to climb with and rollerblade with. Someone to talk to, who was there for me when I needed someone to be there… only, he could never really tell when I needed him to be there – I always had to ask. He was kind of stubborn that way.

The one thing I never understood – why me? Of all the people he could have gone out with… been the “lover” of… why me? And so I asked him…

“I always felt really comfortable around you, you seemed to like me, and
you turned me on. Very simple. We got to know each other and had lots of fun last summer before I left. It was easy to just be ourselves. We became friends and eventually lovers. It's the lover part that is causing this trouble now. It's a fine line to cross, but so hard not to, especially when you feel really comfortable and close anyway.”

Only this time, I know – there’s no going back. I can’t and won’t change my mind again. Even if I wanted to, the “selfish” part of him won’t want anything to do with it. But, the absolute worse part is… I’m not sure I can be “just good friends” anymore.

I’m surprised we lasted as long as we did – one year, one month and 3 days. Of course, I’m the only one who remembers – he probably couldn’t care less. And because we lasted as long as we did, I allowed myself the tiniest of tiny fragment of hope. But really, deep, deep down, I knew that nothing had changed. He would never care for me the way I cared for him… never want to get married, and definitely never want to have children – not that I do either at the moment, by the way. Perhaps that’s why I procrastinated so long… I knew that even the slightest beginning of “the talk” would lead to the total annihilation of “us.”

I know now that I’ve been wrong, been blind to the situation, let my heart and my …ummm… hormones lead me where my head has always told me not to go. I drew lines, he kept stepping over them, and after a while, I didn’t really care about the lines anymore… I was happy, or so I thought. I put myself in a situation I shouldn’t have; romanticized it in my mind, saw something that didn’t exist and didn’t even have a hope of existing. I created a pseudo-Triscuit that I fell somewhat in love with. I thought, obviously erroneously, that if I could be nicer, funner, cooler, things would just fall into place… damn those Harlequins…

There are things I cannot undo. Things I’m not sure if I regret or not. But while it lasted, it was definitely the most fun I’ve ever had. There’s a part of me that would like to play the “if only” game. If only yesterday didn’t happen. If only I hadn’t gone to Lenny’s party. If only I had met him a couple of years early, or even a couple of years later… If only I hadn’t hemmed and hawed and gotten upset about other stuff. If only I wasn’t pms-ing… but fact remains… what’s done is done… the fat lady *ahem* has sung…

As per Mr. BMW… “It's not a bad dream, you've done something good for yourself. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is the right thing. No, you can't take back what you said, but you also can't change someone. And deep down, you had hoped that things would change between the two of you because of the time that had passed. In the grand scheme of things, you've done something good for yourself. You've decided that you're better than this, you're worth more to someone than just a casual fling. You want and deserve something more substantial.

It does hurt, no doubt about it. But everyone hurts and it's part of the process. Trust me J, everyone gets their heart broken at least once in their life. You have, I have, your sister has. But everyone bounces back, and so will you.”

Sista says… ”Well, I think it's ABOUT TIME that you stuck up for yourself too and voiced your thoughts. I don't think he was being fair to you and he wasn't treating you as well as you should've been treated. Even though I know that you told yourself that it was ok, and that he didn't treat you POORLY, he didn't treat you WELL, either, considering your relationship, which really WAS a relationship, and not just a "good friendship" that you keep saying it is.. Anyway, I think friends help - not that you need to tell anyone at all, but it's nice to know that the support is there if you need it.”

Thanks for being here, guys.

So, no more drunken text messages, no more middle-of-the-week-spur-of-the-moment sushi picnics, no more trips to the beach house, no one to indulge my every whim and fantasy, no one to go fly a kite with me on a totally unwindy day. Damn, I’m going to miss the boy.

… well all you single guys out there… I’m available again… time to start lining up… :)

Day 10084: Orange and yellow m&ms…

Sunday afternoon, I’m floating upside down in my kayak, holding my breath for what seems like an eternity… tapping the bottom, waiting oh-so-patiently for a T-rescue. *glub, glub*… crap I accidentally opened my mouth and now all the water’s rushing in… I’m going to drown. It’s bad enough I can’t do the C-turns through the eddys like everyone else can… crap… Oh well, it was nice knowing you world. Too bad I never got good enough at this to even paddle across the rapids…

Rescuer finally comes and I accidentally pop out trying to do the T-rescue…

John: That was only two seconds!
Me: Oh…

Next time I flipped…

John: That was only two seconds!!!!!
Me: Oh… it felt like five… *blush*

*****
Saturday afternoon, I’m floating with my upside down kayak in freezing cold Lake Ontario, head in the cockpit trying to lift the damn thing so I can practice my self rescue techniques… Accidentally propel myself too far down and start glugging water…

Triscuit: Don’t swallow the water!!!
Me: *glurp* …
Triscuit: Don’t even lick your lips… ecoli…
Me: *glurp* … great… if I don’t drown, I’m still going to die… *glug*
Triscuit: Drama queen...

Day 10079: Summer

Sirens flashing, horns blaring, the sound of people yelling and cheering in the glass muffled distance... we rush to the windows to see the scantilly cladded, blonde Molson girls leading the Indy convoy. Truck, after truck, after truck, Molson, Corona... whatever other racing teams there were, escorted by non-other than Toronto's finest... on motorcycles. At the beginning of the lunch hour... prime attention-getting tactics...

Those marketing people really know how to live it up.

Day 10078: Crap, I've lost track again...

Broke down and cried four days in a row. Saturday night's while drinking at Bamby's... I blamed the allergies, but everyone knew they were tears. Last episode huddled in a corner of the climbing gym calling my mom using the courtesy phone while some wacko was pacing around... can't you see I'm on the phone? Go find some other phone to use... idiot.

I'm soooo not good with emotional turmoil. Can't eat (anything except unhealthy food), can't sleep... can't do anything productive. Work sucks, feel stupid... when can this life end and the next one begin?

:(

Day 10075: No one said that being a control freak was easy

I came to the realization a long time ago that I can’t control everything around me. Not that it ever stops me from trying. Nope, I get myself into the thick of things, force myself into situations where I’m not needed or wanted, and all because it stresses me out to no end if I can’t do anything about it. My life, so it seems, is centered on who I can help, and what I can do… even if my contribution results in nothing at all.

I hate to see people upset. Try my best to solve other people’s problems. Wipe tears. Hold hands. Utter threats about going postal on the offenders with supersoakers… anything to see the person smile, and provide maybe a split second of respite from their worries.

They’re not my problems, not really. They might affect me, here and there, but really it’s someone else’s to deal with. My input means nothing. My life, though affected, is not the issue at stake. And although the world generally *ahem* revolves around me, sometimes it isn’t and I need to be there for the people who need me most. Even if I can’t do anything about it. Hopefully just being there helps.

Two ears to listen, and two nice sturdy shoulders (jelly-flops arms and all…) to cry on. Hopefully, that’s enough. And if it isn’t… well… anything goes… anything.

Day 10072: The Dark Side...

There are days where I hate myself. Hate how I look. Hate how I feel. Hate how my allergies have turning me into a flakey green swamp monster from some cheap-low-budget-non-Hollywood-made-for-late-night-tv film. Hate how my life has turned out. Hate how I unconsciously decided to ignore all of my friends and family, and essentially sequester myself in Hamilton. Hate how I don't fit in at work. Hate how I can't seem to do anything productive while I'm there, and end up doing dick-all for the week, and will have to work the weekend to "catch up" and can't go camping. Hate how today is one of those days.

I saw a picture of myself today. Clicked on Steve's Rubber Duckies site, saw the jelly flop arms and beer belly gut, saw pictures from the same time last year, and hated myself. I had won the battle, but not the war, and when the battle was over, I forgot about the war. Kept forgetting that if I went back to my old habits, the battle would have to be refought again, and again. I am UG-ly, and I am fat. I can't keep up with anyone on rollerblades and can't really blame it on my almost-ten-year-old blades. I look hideous in a bikini - why didn't anyone tell me. The truth hurts, but not as much as knowing that it's captured on film forever AND posted on the Internet for the world to see.

I never thought it would happen to me. I never thought I could be one of those people who let their friends slide to the side when they're seeing someone. Yet, it's happened. Things happened. I find out about my sister's life through my friends who apparently spend a lot more time talking/im'g with her than I do. But then, I don't even know what's going on with my friends these days either. Between Triscuit, the new job and all the family drama over the past couple of months, I've lost touch with people. Lost touch with myself. Can't seem to sort out my own priorities anymore.

I wish things were what they were last summer. This sucks...

Day 10069: Divinity 101…

“You have to think about your future…”

The more I think about it, the more I think that planning for the future is a waste of time. Sure, you can plan for retirement and hope that your lifestyle allows you to live to the sweet old age of 65. Or you can plan for that humongous $2 million house you’d like to by in X number of years. But, more often than not, even the best laid plans fail to bear fruit. You’ll have a heart attack and die at the age of 45 thus, never even getting close to early retirement or your investment in that nice safe stock crashes and burns because the CEO and the CFO ran off to the Caymans with a cool $1 billion in their greedy little paws, and each other’s wives to boot.

Your past determines your future. Every action or reaction that occurs now causes something to happen in the future. It's a big chain reaction. So what if you make a mistake? You learn from your mistakes, other people learn from your mistakes… you learn from other people’s mistakes – that is how the world works. It’s one big cycle of recycled history. Though not necessarily your history, but a mismatch of someone else’s history, for sure.

If you’re constantly thinking about the future, reacting only on how each action will change or alter your future and never really living for the present, then are you really living? You can spend hours a day reading up on stocks, planning what to do when you strike it rich – the things you’ll buy, the places you’ll see. But what about the things you can do now – take some time to treasure the people around you… You can buy that perfect dream house now, and be gloriously happy but then shit happens and you lose your job. What to do then? What about the future? What future?

Today’s fortune cookie… “The best prophet of the future is the past…”

Day 10065: Traumatized...

Telephone conversation with my mother today:

Mom: So what are you doing this weekend?
Me: going to Hamilton...
Mom: When are you coming back?
Me: don't know... Sunday maybe? *thinking about the bonfire we're having Saturday night*
Mom: You're staying there the whole weekend?
Me: Yeah, I guess so... *crap! what have I just done?!!*
Mom: So are the two of you together now or what?
Me: ummm...no... yes... I don't know... I guess so... *how the hell do I get out of this mess?*
pause...silence...pause
Mom: Are you on birth control pills?
Me: NO!!!
Mom: I want you to be safe. You know you were feeling nauseous for the past month...
Me: No, it's not like that! I'm just allergic to something... Allergies... I just finished my... ummm...
Mom: We need to talk about this when you get back.
Me: Um, maybe. *Oh $#@%$#!!!!*

Telephone conversation with Triscuit:

Me: You know how wierd stuff happens to me every day? I'm so traumatized...
Him: Why? What happened today? *moving stuff in the background...*
Me: *whisper* My MOM asked if I was on birth control...
Him: *whisper* What? I can't hear you...
Me: *louder whisper* MY MOM ASKED IF I WAS ON BIRTH CONTROL PILLS...
Him: Ha-ha! That's pretty funny! Don't you talk about this stuff with your mother?
Me: Ummm... what do you think?
Him: Oh yeah... I guess not. That's still pretty funny... Ha-ha...
Me: She wants to talk about it...
Him: Good luck...

Day 10063 1/2: I'm Tripping...

Typical J-ism... I can't go through ONE day without tripping on something. Yesterday, I was tripping over my left foot all day - left rubber skid marks on the floor where ever I went.

Today...well... let's just say, thank God for nylons (no blood, just bruises...). Tripped going UP the escalator on the way to work. Holding a chai latte in one hand, a sausage mcmuffin, book and purse in the other, running up the escalator and somehow stubbed a toe or caught a heel - whatever. Down I go, scrape my thigh on the metal escalator teeth, latte splashes up the stupid little lid hole, splashes me right in the face, totally coating my glasses (and only my glasses). Blind and disoriented from pain, I realize that one of my shoes has fallen off. So still holding my latte and everything else, on my hands and knees, my left foot searches blindly for my lost shoe... I finally find it, put it back on and saunter casually (and still blindly) up the rest of the way...

If only I had a camera... oh wait... I'm sure Eaton Centre security is having a laugh-fest over that one... play, laugh, rewind... play, laugh, rewind...

I get sooo close to being girlie-girl and something like this has to happen.

*****************

On a better note... Picnic on the living room floor with Triscuit and his mom. Strawberry meringue birthday cake and a bottle of PJ to celebrate finalizing the beach house at last!!! It was great... :)

Day 10063: The Skinny on the Sista

I have been remiss, dear Sista. In my quest to keep you up-to-date on my going ons, I have neglected to talk about us… so here goes… ode to Sista…

Sista is beautiful. She’s lovely inside and out. She’s got the salsa moves, the surfer babe moves, and the boarder chick moves. She’s down to earth, glamorous and incredibly brilliant. She’s everything that I’m not, and everything that I want to be. Except the salsa… that’s 100% hers.

We didn’t always get along – typical sibling rivalries and jealousies. Little things, minute hatreds, occasional contempts. Things that drove us completely up the wall back then, and yet, I wouldn’t be able to remember a single example now if my life depended in it. When riled, she liked to throw things though. I think my bedroom wall still bears the mark of an orange pencil-crayon. But fair is fair… I did try to chop of her finger with a butter knife one cold, blustery winter day… and plot to kill her on numerous of occasions when she pissed me off.

But we got through our adolescence and moved on to adulthood. She was like the older sister in many ways – broke down the barriers, pushed the envelope, toed the line. I was happy being nobody… I really didn’t exist until three years ago. I dreamt through high school, and slept through university. Consciousness for me, came at the age of 24. She was the independent rebel from day one.

We spent the past three years doing almost everything together. She was my first climbing partner, the Duckie’s first pacer and even managed to drag me out to salsa classes on the very, very, extremely rare occasion. We even passed the silly CA exams together… though she did much, much better than I did (on my third time around).

Then she moved - first to Texas and then to Cali. For work, she said…to get away. So she packed up and moved with less than a week’s notice, flying home only on the rare occasion… starting a new life, new friends, the works. My gosh she’s brave. I had dreamt about it for years, gotten only so far as to start looking for a job on the West Coast, but I never followed through. And still, I don’t think I’d have the guts to.

First she said nine months, and now she’ll be gone a year and a half. Time flies. It feels like yesterday that we drove her to the airport and waved goodbye as she went into Immigrations and tried to get a T1 Visa on a Saturday morning… I was a wee bit hung over from our Halloween/Going Away party the night before. You can’t really tell from the pictures though. And yeah, I went on a pub crawl that day to drink my sorrows away…

I miss her. Miss talking to her at night and asking for boy advice. Miss stumbling out of my bed at three in the morning on a Tuesday when the dog paws at my door because she wants to go say Hi to her Yee-Yee who just got home from salsa. Miss our spur of the moment picnics… I hate coming home to an empty house – always have. And that three hour time difference – makes it really hard to talk on the phone every night like I want to, but can’t seem to manage.

She’s having the time of her life – working hard, catching the swells of the Pacifica. I’m admittedly a wee bit jealous – who wouldn’t be… sweet deal, great weather, new friends, fancy schmancy new car every couple of weeks. Fact is, even though she has it great, everyone has their own lives... life goes on. I’m still climbing, still dragonboating, still snowboarding – still doing the things we used to do together. Just doing it with other people, okay… really, doing it with Triscuit who’s become in a way, a surrogate best friend (but in a completely different way, of course).

Sure, I wish she was here – wish she’d come home more often… oh wait… I mean, wish I could go visit her more often. But this is good for her, and good for me, too. We’re experiencing different things and growing up as individuals. But yeah… the teleport idea is a good one… that way I could hop into the teleporter, catch some waves in shark infested waters and be back for work Monday morning… if only.

Day 10062: Teeny bopper movies make me cry…

My wedding day will be one of the happiest and saddest days of my life. There will be no traditional father-daughter dance. There may not even be anyone to walk me down the aisle. And no matter how much I’ll be smiling and laughing on the outside, there will be a little part of me inside that’ll be crying for the what-should-have-beens.

He should have been there to see me get married, should have been there to hold his grandchildren. Darn, he should be here now to add his disapproval of Triscuit to my mother’s…add his two cents, even though really it wouldn’t make much of a difference. We should have at least danced one dance together sometime during our lives, though we might have once-upon-a-time when I was but a babe, standing on his feet maybe. But I can’t remember anymore. And it makes me cry a little every time I think about it.

He wasn’t there at my graduations. He wasn’t there to see that I wasn’t really as hopeless as I appeared to be, and that I finally pulled myself together to make something out of my life. He wasn’t there this past weekend when our dragonboat caught up in the last few meters to place third in the division finals… less than 5 hundredths of a second behind the second place team, and less than a second behind the first place team.

And the worse of it all, is that I’m not sure he even knows.

I spent the night watching What a Girl Wants. A cheesy, little teeny bopper movie - of the variety that I love. Sweet, not really all that innocent, but cute. And I sobbed through it. Thinking, and knowing that at least the girl has a chance to see her father again, and to actually spend time with him. Today, tomorrow and the next day. Whereas I will never be able to hear his voice, see him smile, or hug him again.

I would give anything, move heaven and earth to have just five minutes with my dad again. Hell… ten seconds even. I’m not greedy.

Happy belated Father's Day, Daddy... I miss you...

:*(

Day 10061: Tired and Unmotivated...

Ok, people. I'm tired, unmotivated, and really have nothing left to say anymore. So, give a shout out and tell me which ones of my deepest, darkest secrets you want to know, or what topic you'd like me to rant about, 'cuz I'm fresh outta ideas. (and apparently, have been for a while)

... comments anyone? ... hello???

Day 10058: Hidden Gems...

I have done nothing for the past few weeks except read. Actually, let me clarify this. I have done nothing on the subway for the past few weeks except read. It's the perfect place - there is nothing else to do, no distractions, everyone else around you is doing it, and a book makes for a good instrument to slap someone across the face should they "accidentally" get a little too handsy.

After raiding the storage locker for Sista's supply of books (mine are as usual, typically, unsubway worthy of course), I've been on a somewhat inspirational kick. Books written with the purpose of inspiring me to reach my full potential, telling me to dare to dream, and to be who I want to be, or how to be rich beyond my deepest desires. Books that tell me what to aim for, who to know, and how to sell my soul to the devil. Books, that when you dig a little deeper are full of the same message over, and over and sometimes can be a little full of crap as well. Books by authors that you have never heard of, but their one paragraph blurb sounds interesting and the picture looks rich/successful/stupendously wonderful...

They sell, and people buy them over and over - just with a different cover, and maybe a slightly different name. People hoping that maybe this will be the hidden gem amongst the box of fakes - that this will be the book that touches their life and changes their soul and be that one catalyst that inspires them to be someone else.

But, they're great fun! Fun to read, fun to laugh at and BONUS... they make you look smart and insightful to a car full of people who don't really care. So forget who sold what Ferrari, or who talked to who on what day - live life to the fullest and do your damnest to make sure that you don't die with regrets. No should'ves, would'ves, could'ves... just do it...

Now, it's on to chick-lit - drama queens and shopaholics - more "true" stories of... and other literary crap... it's fun, funny, uplifting and inspirational... what more could a girl possibly want.

*****

Spent the evening in the Ham last night pulling off wallpaper and plier-ing staples and nails out of the floor. Life does not get better than that! Fail to understand, though, why it took only 45 minutes to get there with rush hour traffic, but over hour to get home in the middle of the night... damn 401 construction traffic... 'course it didn't help either that I got off at Dixie and drove around in circles for a while...

Day 10055: Dear me...

The cable went out, the Internet died... no one was home and if they were, they weren't picking up the phone. I'm bored, all alone save for the sleeping dog, and listening to Gladiator in the background because I'm too impatient to sit and watch it again. It was the first dvd I ever bought - even before I had a dvd player... how strange. I don't even really like that movie. Hopefully I did back then.

The big b-day surprise for Triscuit was fantastic. I should have realized that he IS the MOST unobservant person in the world - seeing as how I had the Prince tickets on the dining room table in plain view for two weeks... wrapping is wasted on him - he's just happy to have received a box (with nothing in it...). Silly boy. Silly, silly boy... but he's my silly boy.

... dear me... I think I've fallen for him... crap.

Day 10050: One year...

One year ago, I sent out an email offering friendship. Nothing more. Didn't want anything, didn't hope for anything. A shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen - no comments to be made.

A lot has happened in a year. I've grown a lot. Become a lot more "worldly"... have experienced the goods and the bads, and I am the better for it.

No regrets. Ever.

Day 10049: Hiccups...

Have I ever mentioned that I hiccupped once for three weeks straight... no joke - drove everyone around me absolutely bonkers! Even now, sometimes I'll let out a really loud/weird sounding hiccup - just one though!

It's funny how life is so unscripted. Even the best laid plans can go awry. But as the saying goes, if life gives you a lemon, make sure you squeeze the heck out of the lemon before you throw it right back in his face...

So yesterday there were grandiose plans of huge bonfire beach parties and what not... now subdued house party in a place where I really should not be throwing a party... my momma's house - she's off to Cali to visit the Sista for the next couple of weeks. God help me if she finds out.

:)

Day 10048: Did I ever mention that I hate...

I hate planning things. I hate it, loathe it, absolutely detest it. I suck at it. I'm just plain no good at it.

I constantly look to others for "suggestions" or "ideas" but really, the truth is, I'm looking for approval. Approval that yeah, all the effort that I'm putting in is good, and that everyone will have enough to eat and that everyone will have a good time.

I stress about it. Obsess about it... rave about it to anyone who will listen. And when the day comes, I'm so apathetic about it, that it really was a waste of time and energy to have even thought about it...

That said. I'm trying to organize Triscuit's surprise b-day party. I want it to be good - something that he'll remember for a long time to come. Yeah, maybe the added stress is good for me...

Day 10044: Downtown... part 2

...crowded subway, standing near the door, one guy's elbow already in my face. Door opens, guy squeezes in. Door shuts. Guy is pretty much pressed up against my back. I inch forward, to give him more space... subway lurches, guy's still pressed up against me. I guess he needs more space. I inch forward as much as I can - woman next to me is only four inches from my face.

... next stop people shift. I dodge the door people and head towards the middle of the car - he follows. People start streaming in. Everyone is packed in like a good dim sum restaurant on a saturday morning. This time, I end up in an even more precarious situation - I'm forced to semi lean over the woman sitting in front of me, my arm is braced against the pole so that everytime the train stops or start, I end up pushing against the pole to stay up. The guy next to me - I've already stepped on him twice. the woman in front of me is glaring at me because I keep hitting her newspaper with my book. and still I feel the guy pressed up against me.

Sure. It's a crowded subway, things like this happen. I try to shift my bag so it's between us. Every time I shift, he apologizes. No big deal, I guess... it's rush hour, it happens. I step forward so that my foot is even between the feet of the guy next to me. I've tried everything. Then it happened... the guy touched my bum. The first time, I tried to move away again and he apologized. No biggie - just an accident right? Lurch of the subway, lost his balance - these things happen. It keeps happening. We're so close now, I can't even turn around and glare at him. A couple more stops come and go - people cram in some more... no one gets off... the guy presses up against me even more - I'm already off balance... there's no where to go... he's not even making any effort to hide it now - full cuppage... just short of grabbing... I can't go anywhere... my mind is blank, don't know what to say...

... next stop Bloor - tons of people start streaming by - I practically run to the other end of the train - thank god he didn't follow.

I HATE the subway.

Day 10042: Downtown...

Walking along Front Street on the way to the climbing gym...
Punk-ass kid: Hey lady, can I come home with you?
Me: *imperceptibly shaking my head*
Punk-ass kid: C'mon, I'll tickle you good...

God help me, it made me laugh...

Day 10037: Hey Pretty lady...

There's always a catch.

Woman: Hey pretty lady... here, all the pretty ladies get a sticker... hands me a yellow happy face sticker
Me: um. Thanks.
Woman: All the pretty ladies get a sticker... I'm collecting for needy children... can you help?
Me: holding up my smoothie, and Coast Mountain Sports bag - no purse, no wallet ...sorry, I just used my last bit of cash - are you here tomorrow?
Woman: I'm here every day

Day 10035: Why the hell do I bother...

Seems like everyone who goes to this site is looking for S-E-X-Y G-R-A-N-N-I-E-S. Sickos.

Day 10033: Gaps

Years that seem like such a blur.
Day in, day out, things happening,
yet not really happening.
Existing for a reason only the heavens really know.

Accomplishments that amount to zero.
Friendships formed, friendships dismissed.
Old memories, new memories...
faint recollections of things that once were,
but in all probability might only be imagined have-beens.

Gaps in my mind.
Unconsciously trying to forget what?
Hard times, perhaps.
Realistically not.
Things blend together.
Hazy impressions of things long forgotten.

Nothing to show.
No pictures, no records...
nothing that proves existence.
Easily forgotten,
Just as easy to glance over and miss.
Significance? Not likely. None whatsoever.

Day 10032: Feelings of inadequacy

Friday night. Boy and I are sitting at the neighbourhood bubble tea store. He - passion fruit with star shaped mango jellies. Me - blueberry green tea with tapioca bubbles. I'm beat and exhausted despite my three and a half hour nap in the afternoon... I love new monkeyco...

Surprised, aren't you, that I did something last night instead of staying home and reading in bed (which I was actually looking forward to, since it's been half a year at least and I really wanted to finish my book). Yeah, so was I when he called at 7:45 and asked if I wanted to see Shrek 2. Ummm, yeah, and does the Dawg like cookies...?

Our faces were aching from all the laughing (Shrek 2 is an amazingly funny movie) and somehow or rather, we start talking about The Matrix which seeing as how it's Triscuit's favourite movie, it's not an unlikely discussion topic. He's talking about the links and parallelisms to Christianity, and to life, and how really, if we thought about it, the matrix could actually exist and how our brains are like computers and we really didn't need our bodies to function... i.e. we could learn to play volleyball by watching and then by thinking through the motions, and that really, it's just mental. Good points, interesting conversation, only one problem...

Triscuit: So, don't you have any books or movies that make you think about life and stuff...
Me: Um... sure... *desperately trying to think of something...drawing blank*

Then, it occurred to me that I actually don't. Sure, there are the movies and the books that I've liked, reread, thought about a bit and then moved on. But nothing that has moved me or touched me in any way. No inspiration whatsoever... none... nada...

Am I that superficial? Apparently it seems that I've taken everything at face level and have never bothered to delve into the plots, subplots and hidden meanings of all that lays before me. That I've never before really paused and questioned the whys and why nots behind everything, or even made an effort to link to other aspects of my so-called-life. My motto, as it appears, to accept everything and question nothing.

So, it appears that I am a flake, a ditz, a shallow pseudo girlie-girl (I'm trying sooo hard...). Uninteresting, unknowledgable, un-thought provoking, unworthy of stimulating conversation. And yet, I can spew out useless facts and tidbits of non-relative conversation items with the best of them. I can blame my lack of memory for a lot of things, but we all know the truth...

Day 10031: May Two-Four...

It's the May two-four weekend and I have no plans... I'm not entirely sure if that's a bad thing or a good thing. I'm exhausted, and yet, it's the first long weekend I've had since I can't remember when, so I want to savour it, and eek it out to it's fullest potential. Which means party, party, party... or something to that effect. But major BOO, the boy needs to stay in Ham this weekend to take care of the beach-house-buying details and run other "important" errands. (note: what's more important than me, might I ask...)

So, lineup for the weekend...

Friday night - no flipping clue (wow, a Friday without plans... what's next? sobriety?)
Saturday - no flipping clue
Saturday night - cake at Paul's
Sunday - recovering from cake at Paul's
Monday - no flipping clue...

I need a life.

:(

Day 10030: Things that made me go "EWWWW"

~ my messy, messy house
~ coughing so hard I feel like I've peed my pants
~ being a girl on "certain" days of the month
~ poop on the back of a toilet seat at work...EWWW!!!
~ panhandlers twenty feet apart... I feel guilty enough I didn't give money to the first guy... you don't have to double team me...
~ Jamaican Crab Bisque from Soup Nutsy... c'est tres SALTY
~ freshly cut grass stuck on the dawg
~ weird dreams about the Sista's ex
~ smell of feet funk in the hallway
~ elephant stomps
~ itchy, itchy, itchy, scratchy, scratchy, scratchy

:oP

Day 10029: Yo-yo

Apologies again, my friends. It has been a busy weekend. A wedding, a funeral, a birthday party, dragon boat practice, Duckie picnic, trip to Windsor and back, another picnic... there's been enough going on that it's barely the beginning of the week and I already feel totally, utterly exhausted. Wait... I think it's Wednesday... already. Wow, time passes quickly when you're not paying attention.

Let's see... where was I...

Day five of heaven... continued by popular request...:

Day three started off great. Smooth drive to the beach, a nice quiet brunch with reasonably decent food, sweet hand-in-hand walking along the beach kind of thing. Del Mar has the finest sand I've ever seen. It clings to you like a film even though it's completely dry and gets into EVERY little nook and cranny. Del Mar also has these little clam things that you only know are there when you're standing about calf deep in the water. When the tide rushes out, the sand beneath your feet get slurped up along with the water, and you can feel the tiny clams underneath. If you reach down and grab a handful, you can pick up a good twenty of them at once. All in a rainbow of colours. A neverending source of fascination for me seeing as how I'm such a city girl, anything out of the ordinary astounds me. Of course, Triscuit, being farm boy, thinks I'm whacked out of my skull and never stopped laughing at me the whole time. He said that I was torturing the poor little things, but I just wanted to see them up close. Sometimes I think he's sticking around just so he can tease me about one thing or another.

Vegas, to be quite honest, though fun, I could have done without. We arrived early in the evening. Our little procrastination at the beach and the little "incident" at the gas station put us behind schedule. Plans to meet up with the others for dinner were scrapped because they were starved, and well, we weren't in town. So, instead, Triscuit and I walked around the various casinos and malls stopping here and there to watch someone play a few hands, and then moved on to the next. My fault, I felt a need to rush and cover the Strip, since our plans were to leave early the next morning and head back to the beach... so Tricuit's first exposure to Sin City was not the experience he had anticipated.

Don't get me wrong. Vegas, is great, but not on a drive-thru basis. Neither of us felt like gambling. He spent a total of $7 and I spent a token $1 on a slot machine and bummed a dollar off Posie to play "hard eights" at the craps table... and promptly lost. On top of that, tempers had worn a little thin on the drive through the desert (the "incident") and so we definitely were not in a real partying kind of mood.

We met up with the crew after their respective shoes (Posie, LZ flew out that night, JC, and Larry)and walked around for a few more hours first looking for a club or a lounge and then looking for a place to gamble. Lady Luck not being with the gamblers, we moved from Paris to MGM... by the time we made it back the sun would have already risen back home. And to be honest again, I really don't remember much of that night... just remember being extremely exhausted and wanting to sleep more and more with every step we took.

Kisses goodnight, and it was off to our respective sleeping spaces... me fervently hoping that I would not be assaulted by a flailing Posie in the middle of the night...

Day six of heaven... back to the beach:

Early morning start... or reasonably early, considering the late night before. Stopped off at the last casino out of Nevada (Billy Bob's something-or-rather) for a quick bite... bad food for really little money. Corned beef hash - i.e. regurgitated dog food. Why Americans are soooo obsessed with their hash, I will never know. They take two good ingredients (i.e. corned beef, and potatoes...) and make it look and taste like puke. What else could we expect for the low, low price of $3.79...um... caviar, SVP?

Drive back to SD uneventful. Note to self... never let Triscuit get gas in California again. Inconsistent gas stations with inconsistent requirements (i.e. pay at the pump, pay before you pump, pump and pay...)seemed to be a constant frustration... more like a recurring nightmare. But, the closer we got to San Diego, the happier he got, so all was good in the hood in the end.

Din-din at the Greek place in Seaport Village. Yummy gyros and baklava to die for. Could be that it was my first experience with real baklava, but I swear my tastebuds were in sheer ecstasy. The crispy honey-gooey-ness... oh god, I'm salivating at the thought. Anyone know where I can get some good baklava in TO? Anyone?

Day seven of heaven... happy place:

I have three happy places. Happy place number three is a little slip of rock outcropping at a boat transfer station in Big Chute, Ontario. Happy place number two is St. Malo, France where I watched the most beautiful sunset I have ever experienced (though the La Jolla sunset was a close second, if not for the view, than for the company...). Happy place number one, as it has been for the past seven years or so is the beach at the Hotel Del Coronado. I'm not sure what it is, but the sand at Coronado alway seems to have tiny flecks of gold in it. When you look into the water, it shimmers and glistens as the gold rises and ebbs with the tide.

Picnic lunch on the beach of sloppy barbecue corned beef sandwich with sides of cole slaw (sp?), 'tater salad, and something else I don't remember, but it obviously wasn't that good... one fork only, so we took turns eating and feeding each other. Spent most of the afternoon wading around looking for sand dollars and shells, getting soaked to the crotch (while wearing white capris... bad idea since they were practically transparent until they dried... and of course another source of teasing by Triscuit *blush*) and watching a brave seagull make off with the remainder of our 'tater salad. Oh, and crap on Sista's beach towel... Hiked the ten blocks to the ferry docks and took the ferry back to Seaport Village, making a brief stop at the Navy base in the middle... during the whole time which we were under surveillance by a little tug boat of armed Navy-men who seemed to be watching the girls more than they were watching for spies. Yay Navy... you know your priorities...

Idiot that I am, I decided to forego the romantic dinner cruise of the Hornblower in favour of going back to Coronado to watch the sunset. Of course, being the shopaholics and procrastinators that we are, we spent too much time browsing the Seaport stores and missed the ferry, hence missed watching at sunset at my happy place. No big deal, another day, another time. Leisurely stroll back up the ten blocks to the car, and then to Cafe Mimi's for a take-out hamburger to eat while watching Turner's Classic Movies (damn, I NEED that channel) and packing the bags for the dreaded trip home...

Day eight of heaven... ummm... I mean return to hel...ummm... the dread trip home:

We flew home. End of story. Now I'm home, and wishing I was still on the beach somewhere watching a sunset with the boy. I think I be moving to Cali sometime in future... really...

:)

Day 10023: Wished You Were There...

It's been a while since I blogged a good long, lengthy blog worthy of being a procrastination tool. As Binny dearest so eloquently quipped, "more postings....meee boored at work.
get to it." And so I shall.

Here I am, sitting in Crappy Tire, a tent in my lap for a desk, writing this out long hand. My hands, dirt and grease smudged, trail grimy fingerprints across every page of this sketch book as I wait not-so-patiently for the biannual tire change to be completed. And then afterwards, I'm off to find an open-late car detailing shop so that I can have my baby cleaned inside and out, so I can save a few bucks tomorrow and not have to spend $138 at TD Tower to get it done. Afterall, now that I'm a downtown-er, it's that much more convenient for me. It's odd how quickly I've adapted to the lifestyle.

This blog has been a long time in coming. I've been to heaven and back, seen much of my California-golden-girl tan fade back to winter-white paleness and I have yet to tell all five of you faithful readers all about it.

My week began in a red wine-induced haze. End of busy season firm party combined with a welcome home party for the Sista combined with a self-styled going away party hosted by an equally elated, heavy-handed-red-wine-pouring KC equaled major trouble. Hours spent in not-so-solitary confinement in the dungeon-like stall of Leftbank's potty-room (broken toilet seat and all) and an equally fuzzy car ride, only to be continued with a nap on my own surprisingly comfortable bathroom floor. Needless to say, with less than 4 hours of me "power snoring" (per Triscuit) before it was time for our flight, I was still "slightly" hammered in the morning. on the plane. to minneapolis. turbulence *ugh* and all.

Some hours later, I recovered enough to direct us out of the airport, onto a shuttle bus and to Dollar-Rent-a-Car, where I had managed to reserve a little white Neon for only $14 a day. (ed note: sorry about the free advertising, but hey, when you get such a super deal, you just gotta brag about it... but watch out if you bring the tank back half empty... that's where they try to screw you...)

Day one of heaven...the perfect beginning:

Arrived in San Diego 2:30, found Sista's place, checked in, saw bed, crawled into bed, fell asleep. 5:30 cracked an eye open, Triscuit snoring away next to me as happy as can be. Poked him, muttered "We should go do something...we're on vacation" and promptly fell back asleep... "power snoring" I'm sure. (note sarcasm...) 7:55 Triscuit rolled over, and over, and over (gotta love a king size bed), said something about dinner. I said two more minutes... and woke up 4 hours later to turn off the lights, and dive back under the covers. What a perfect beginning to a great vacation.

Day two of heaven...how to get places without a map:

Sixteen and a half hours of sleep later, we woke up at the crack of dawn to find that on a Sunday morning, nothing is open. Aimlessly drove around suburbia SD looking for grub and found a nice little smoothie shop with magazines. Chilled with my tango mango reading excerpts of Barbarella. Felt just like I was at home, catching up on the latest Smitten. Ahhh... that is the life.

Armed with a mapquest map, we somehow managed to find our way to Mission Beach. Tried rollerblading on the supposed beach paths, went the wrong way and hit crappy rough pavement, gave up, and had a nice long walk back up the beach. The waves licked at our feet, the sand sucked greedily at our toes, the sky was a brilliant cloudless blue, the breeze just salty enough to whip our hair around our pinkening faces. Lunched watching the Leafs lose to Philly. Tried rollerblading again, but apparently, 3/4 in the afternoon is when the people come out, and the boardwalk was packed. And so we drove to La Jolla.

La Jolla beach... multi-coloured million dollar homes lining the shore, private clubs, multi-coloured beach umbrellas...an incoming tide that threatened our path to safety...

Again, mapless, we managed to find the La Jolla cove that I remembered from a trip way back when. Found a semi-secluded spot and watched the sun sink it's fiery redness into the dark depths of the ocean... until there was barely enough light to guide our climb up the rocks. (And climb, we did, as our path was blocked by the tide so we had to "boulder" our way up the cliffs. Really not as bad as it sounds... not even purple block grade, but definite pinch power required!) Stood for hours atop the cliffs, just looking at the stars. That moved... okay, so they were really planes, but I could've sworn they were really shimmery stars.

Day three of heaven... fashion valley (need I say more):

Late start. Watching three girls pack and leave can be really tiring! :) Plans to go to the beach went astray the moment Tricuit said, "Hey, let's check out Abercrombie on our way..." And so our marathon shopping day began...

He:

Robinson May... 1 white, 1 blue Quicksilver t-shirt, long sleeve linen shirt... white squirrels t-shirt (ick)
Abercrombie... 3 long sleeve shirts (yummmm), shorts, 1 yellow t-shirt, 1 "wishes do come true" with pix of ice-cold beer delivery truck t-shirt
Robinson May (part 2)... 1 very pretty pink skirt (for me!)

She:
Abercrombie... 1 pink long sleeve shirt, 2 tanks
J. Crew... 1 purple, 1 turquoise 3/4 length button up, 1 tank
Some shoe store... cute black sandals
Robinson May (part 2)... 1 white, 1 baby-blue sweater, white/blue/green skirt, black/white skirt, cute pink top, flowy white lounging pants

...did I ever mention that I don't usually like to shop? Actually, it was me in the change room and Triscuit doing the shopping for me. I love having a personal shopper! :)

Day four of heaven...the happiest place on earth:

Disneyland... need I say more?

Tomorrowland - Star Wars ride, Honey I Shrunk the Kids movie, Space Mountain closed until 2005 (boo), some kid's motor raceway thing that Triscuit made me drive even though he was the one who wanted to go on the ride... "How come I always have to drive?" ...whiney boy...

Some-other-land - Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Critter something or rather...

Storybook land - Fantasy land? - Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, Alice in Wonderland, Snow White's Scary Adventure, Pinoccio (was that a ride?), It's a Small World...

New Orlean's Square? - Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribean - closed... boo..., Tarzan's Treehouse... did you know that they have a canoe "ride" - twenty people in a canoe paddling their guts out... sound familiar???

Adventure land - The Jungle ride on that boat thing, Indiana Jones with the scary bugs...

Toon Town - Roger Rabbit, Chip and Dale... mail boxes that talk, cartoon boats... meeting Mickey... *swoon*

Other memories... goofing around to take pix, deep throating pickles, slushy mishaps, taking the train around, and around, and around the park... and watching the Leafs lose the series in OT at the ESPN Zone... boo

Did I ever tell you that I'm not so good with names? Disneyland isn't as big as I remembered... especially since the longest time we ever waited in line was ten minutes...

Day five of heaven... er... I mean... um...

Del Mar with it's beautiful miles of fine, fine sand - perfect for sand castle building and getting messy in. Just like a kid again. Got there early in the morning and watched the true hard-core surfers go out and catch some waves before going to work. Ironically, the only two Canadians were wearing hoodies to protect against the morning breezies, while all the bronzed Cali-ans sauntered past in tanks and bikinis... lol.

Brunched at some place recommended by Sista for it's salmon hash... Americans sure do love their hash. There's salmon hash, corn hash, chicken hash, corned-beef hash, spam hash... you name it, they've hashed it. Weirdos.

Beached a little more, burnt bright red and drove to Sin City. Triscuit threw a hissy-fit at the wacked out American pay-at-the-pump gas stations. Silly boy. Bad temper. Boo...

Met up with Posie, LZ, JC and Larry at the Bellagio and welll... read January/February archives on Sin City... same old, same old...

...to be continued

Day 10020: For everything else, there's Mastercard...

black suit that magically attracts dog hair... $120
purple shirt the boy picked out in Cali... $65
tokens for 2.5 hr hideous subway rides... $4.50
shoes that mangled my previously pretty little feet... $50

looking girlie girl on the first day of work and having friends that come over the night before to help you iron and pack your purse... PRICELESS

:)