CK and Scott = Mom and Dad

Welcome Isaac! I can't wait to meet you!

Because pictures are better than rambling posts, no?

?

Looking for a snail in the ginger beer (or, alternatively, making a pirate face at the Red Stripe)

Dinner at 529, pre-wedding. Also, pre-meat sweats.

The beautiful Ms. Hamm-Tropak and her loyal book club members.

No need for caption.

No need for caption #2.



The funniest picture ever. Well on our way to becoming "TG".

Clarification

And just so people don't start throwing things at me...

By "not understand" I didn't mean that I do not respect views / wishes / decisions of people that are not having ankle biters. I absolutely do. I just have a hard time comprehending the "why" behind the decision. Which is okay right? It's almost like calculus.

And thus the need to be more empathetic.

Does this help clarify?

To Create or Not to Create?

An article caught my eye in the Globe and Mail today by one Ms. Angela Long wherein she discusses her choice not to have children (her reasons are based on an ecological point of view – she believes the world simply cannot accommodate any more children). The article was interesting, but what really kept my attention was the commentary in response to the article (I was reading the online version). The discussion centered less on what was IN the article, and more on how people who had made the choice not to have children constantly feel the need to justify their choice to those who have children.

I am a person who stated, for a loooong time, that I was never going to have children. “I will have dogs” or “I will be the best aunt ever” were sentences that I often spoke. But now? I want children. I don’t know when, or I certainly don’t know how many (to be honest, pregnancy is not something that I feel that I would want to go through twice….and also, I can’t imagine the energy it must take to look after more than one child at a time) but I do know that I would like to be a mother. And you know what is funny about that (and you can probably insert “ironic” or even “brutal” where “funny” is)? I can’t imagine making any other choice. In fact, I can’t really put myself in someone else’s shoes and understand why anyone would state they absolutely do not want children. I can understand why people wait, I get that maybe the timing isn’t always right, but I just cannot understand the absolute stance (and this is coming from someone who had the absolute stance!!!!). What makes this even more funny/ironic/brutal? One of my best friends does not want children.

So, where does this pondering leave me? I need to be more empathetic. And I need to start now. And likely this is in all areas of life. Watch for it, people!

p.s. as a total aside, apparently "Gerber" means "to throw up" in French.

Lainey

I just emailed Lainey.... and she emailed me back!!! Within 5 minutes!

Remember that scene from the Sound of Music where Leisel kisses Rolf and then is deliriously happy, and spins around and around yelling SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE....

That's somewhat how I feel.

And I may hate myself for it.

And now I REALLY have to get back to work.

Pearl Sitting

The ultimate test of responsibility for myself and Ty -- we are looking after Pat and Alexis' "Mush Face" this weekend! I was given a flurry of instructions last night; with a "more detailed email to follow". Pat has repeatedly told me that Pearleen is "his special girl" and that I better treat her right. Apparently she may be a "bit pouty" at first and I'm going to have to "win her over". Yikes. Here are some of Pat's instructions:

The rules to baby sitting our pup:

Feed a cup and a half twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night.

Fresh water at hand always.

She craps three times a day.

Always on leash and no doors in house left open so she can escape.

Should she ever try and bolt you have to get mad at her and tell her to sit and stay! Dogs like a pack leader! You will be her pack leader!

She is very affraid of fireworks, thunder and loud sounds. When she hears them she tries to bolt.

She is not a fan of large crowds.

Keep the leash short unless she is trying to cut a loaf off. Then she needs a bit of room.

Do not leave her in a car too long.

She loves to play fight. Especially if you get on your hands and knees and fight her like another dog.

She will shake a paw, sit, lay down and gives kiss, kiss.

She will be very shy.

Pat and Alexis are off to Toronto to take in some TIFF and to enjoy the city...I am jealous! Please say hello to Lainey for me. Oh -- and Brad Pitt, too.

Did I mention I got hitched?

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE........

I would like to please add a note that my husband and I seem to be better friends than ever. How is it the most boring, awful things are fun when you’re doing them with a great, great friend?

Take note: yesterday, we organized every single cupboard in our kitchen and made a very significant “relegated to camp” pile. How mundane, right? But I write about it here for a reason. As I watched him open a cupboard and put away one of our (many!) bowls – I had to catch my breath as I thought to myself, that man is going to be with me forever -- oh, be still my heart.

SB Mugs

Currently pondering ways to bolster the collection.

Thoughts?


Also, love this "The Way I See It":

The Way I See It #277

I know a lot of morning people and I know a lot of night people but I have yet to meet a late afternoon person.

-- Douglas CouplandAuthor of Generation X, Microserfs and JPod.

2 posts in 1 morning

Bryan and Kathy are parents!

Welcome to Olivia Lila Foskett.

eek. Fall is here.

Shoes.

Married!

Women in boat.

Things are slowly starting to get back to normal – the wedding is over, the guests have gone home, the H moon is over, my husband and I are back at work, I spent my last weekend at the lake for the next little bit.

The weekend, by the way, was AMAZING. Beautiful weather – maybe the hottest weekend of the summer. Spent Friday night at the Hawk, visited with Ty’s Aunt Patty and Uncle Wayne, Aunt Irene and Uncle Rob, Robbie, Mike, and the crew of golfing boys. Had a bonfire, watched the moon. Saturday evening was spent fishing with Dave and Shereese and then Wizard after dinner. Sunday was a lovely lazy day, cruised around in the morn, relaxed and read into the evening. Monday we did chores around camp, went to CTire with M & D, then cruised out to Micrometer Bay for a swim.

And now the weather feels like fall………..AHHHHH.

My key word for fall: ORGANIZATION.

Organize:

My office
My car
My finances (!)
My bedroom
My pantry
My health and fitness
My closet
My wardrobe
My dance floor (where a dining room table should be)
My home office

I can do it. I know I have it in me.

It is going to be an amazingly busy fall, not only on the organization front, but on the fun front as well:

Alicia’s bachelorette party – this weekend! In Calgary.
September 20 – Ty has the Drink and Drive
September 27 – back in Calgary for Alicia and Nick’s wedding! (it will be our first wedding after our own – can’t wait!)
October 3 – Firm retreat in Hecla
CAITLIN AND SCOTT HAVE THEIR BABY!!!!
October 12 – Alicia and Nick’s Winnipeg wedding reception
October 31 – back in Calgary for Winterstart
Visit Caitlin and Scott and the baby!

WOW.

Kingfisher Days

by Susan Coyne

Loved this book. Loved.

Set on Coney Island in Kenora. About a little girl and her friendship with the man next door (Mr. Moir). Oh, and she also writes letters to fairies.

There is one part in the book when she is writing to the fairies and she tells them that she is going to kindergarten at Brown School (in Toronto) in the fall. Contained in the response letter, the fairy writer indicates that there was a general council meeting of the fairies which nearly all the fairies attended. The letter continues, "all were especially interested in the Brown Kindergarten you will attend. Everybody was sure you would do well. They thought that when the class got to the subject of house painting, your views on the merits of rotary sanders and wire brushes would be received with respect".

Did you notice?

I now have 5 SB mugs in the collection.

Who shall I have over for (very larges cups of) tea?

love.this.pic.

love.it.

random, random.

Dress - check. It's in my possession.
Going to play ultimate. Need to run around and work it OUT. Work it out, GF. Also, I am down an ultimate player. I miss her already.
One wedding meltdown today - check. Just one.
Hotel dilemma - solved.
AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

All Summer Long

Where is the summer going? I mean, come now. July 10? Really? Really?

So – Clare and Andrea are at home! YAYAYAY! So pumped!

On a sad note – Ty would not let me adopt Willy. And I loved Willy. We had a bond. Please see the picture (taken at the Winnipeg Humane Society) to witness how adorable Willy was. Look at his cute little feet. Look at his cute little legs. Willy and I had the same body type – long body, short legs. It was meant to be. Damn Wirvin. Willy got adopted yesterday. Hopefully his new family loves him as much as I would have.

On another note, would it be wrong to have a Kid Rock song as a wedding song? Perhaps we should make the wedding into a Much Music Video dance party and have the Kid Rock video playing in the background. (Please note – I have always hated Kid Rock. Like - HATED. But strangely enough – this song makes me giggle. Perhaps it’s because the song actually has the word “Walleye” in it. Love, love, love.)

Remember When?

Remember when...a way long time ago, when I was discussing my trip to Boston with all you lovelies, and I mentioned the guy having the nap (a.k.a. a Westhawk) in the middle of the bar? Well, this picture REALLY makes me giggle. So here it is. Please note the medal around his neck (I picture him saying -- "C'mon! Give me a break! I just ran the BOSTON marathon! Here's my finisher medal to prove it!").

Do you know I am getting married in 44 days?????

Yep, that’s right. In 44 days, I will be a….MARRIED WOMAN. Really? Me…married? I mean, my MOM is married. To be completely honest, I’m not entirely sure that the idea has really sunk in yet. I’m not even really sure I’ve done this engagement thing right and now I have to move on to marriage? How can I do marriage right if I haven’t conquered engagement? AHHHHHHHH. So much to do, so little time. Certainly I have a lot to keep my mind occupied as we head into the home stretch. Lots of details to get on top of, and yes, you all know me….I am on top of none of them. BUT – I have great intentions (as always) and I plan to be a machine in July to power through. And, Clare and Andrea are going to be home next week (!!!) to be my personal slaves….oops, I mean best bridesmaids ever, so I can breathe a little sigh of relief and delegate. I just first have to figure out what exactly needs to be delegated. Oh Andrea and Clare – welcome home ladies!

By way of a housekeeping update (since my last post was LAST MONTH!!):

• Went to a wedding last weekend. Had a really good time. Beautiful wedding – very love-filled. Which sounds cheesy but is true. Also, the bride was the most laid-back bride EVER. Like, ever. I told her how beautiful she looked and she laughed and said that I had to say that because she was the bride. Funny. But not at all true. Also, the ring bearer decided, mid ceremony, that he didn’t want to be the ring bearer anymore and proceeded to drop his little pillow and walk off. Unfortunately, the ring fell off and there was a bit of a mad scramble looking for the ring in the grass. And that reminds me – I guess I need to buy Ty a ring????

• Andrea runs the MARATHON this weekend!!! This will be the first marathon that I won’t be there to see her dominate. Tear. Anna – get out there and do your best. I am so proud of you. Ellis, Haney, Alicia, Meara – make sure you cheer EXTRA loud for me, ok?

• Caitlin heads up to Muskoka for Joe’s Team Triathlon this weekend. This is CK’s baby and it is a VERY successful event. And – Jim Cuddy is going to be playing at the end BBQ! Ah. CK – please give Jim a huge kiss from me. Jim and I – we share a very special bond. So, while CK will be there organizing, she won’t be participating because, as you all know – she has a wee babe on the way (which, according to her, doesn’t feel so wee anymore). And, as a total aside, this babe is going to be the most athletic child ever. Really. Move over Tiger and all the other sports heros – you ain’t got nothing on the genes of this child.

• Mandy flew in last night and took Ginnie to Kenora. She is here for her mother’s 60th, but we are also doing a walk-through at the Yacht Club with our caterer and the YC manager. OMG. This is really happening! It’s truly happening. So, Lainie’s birthday is on Saturday night, therefore I am Mandy’s peon for the day on Saturday. I’m excited! Honestly, I love party-prep. Although, I’m not sure how much help I can truly be for Mandy, but I will do my very best.

• On the subject of the Pearce’s – Margo is going to London (the London in the U.K….not the boring Canadian version) in the fall to do her second Master’s degree. On a scholarship. To a highly prestigious program. Don’t you love it? Margo – you are amazing. Very, very pumped for you. Go get ‘em, lady.

• I am truly homesick for Calgary right now. Just so you know, all you Calgary peeps, I really, really miss you and I am thinking about you all at least every second.

Ok – that’s it!! I must go divorce people now!

J.K. Rowling - Harvard Address

President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates.
The first thing I would like to say is ‘thank you.’ Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I’ve experienced at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and fool myself into believing I am at the world’s best-educated Harry Potter convention.
Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can’t remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.
You see? If all you remember in years to come is the ‘gay wizard’ joke, I’ve still come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.
Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.
I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life’, I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.
These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.
Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.
I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension.
They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents’ car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.
I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.
I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.
What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.
At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.
I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.
However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person’s idea of success, so high have you already flown academically.
Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.
Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.
So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.
You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case, you fail by default.
Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above rubies.
The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned.
Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.
You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.
One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International’s headquarters in London.
There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.
Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government. Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind.
I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.
And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country’s regime, his mother had been seized and executed.
Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.
Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard and read.
And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.
Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.
Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s minds, imagine themselves into other people’s places.
Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.
And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.
I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.
What is more, those who choose not to empathise may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.
One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.
That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people’s lives simply by existing.
But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people’s lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world’s only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.
If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.
I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I’ve used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.
So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.I wish you all very good lives.Thank you very much.

I finally figured out my USB cord dilemma...so here are various pictures!

Deep Breath...

And now everybody please send positive thoughts Ty's way for tomorrow!

I spent last night (my first night "off" in what feels like forever!) reading and then hitting up yoga. Am about halfway through Wilderness Tips. Has anyone read it? Very, very odd. I was reading the book while eating sushi and when I got to the story "Hairball" I had to stop reading for fear of puking up my Tuna Goma-ae. Brief gist of "Hairball" -- a woman has an ovarian cyst removed which turns out to be a benign tumour the size of a grapefruit (or coconut, as she prefers to think about it). It has hair and teeth and nails (yuck). She keeps it in formaldehyde on her mantel. Subsequent to a breakup with a lover, she sends it to his wife. WTF? Margaret, oh Margaret. Brilliant but oh so strange.

Yoga was OK -- love the 9 - 10 p.m. class. It wasn't my favourite instructor last night, but I got over it. Felt strong during the class, love that feeling.

By now I am sure everyone has heard the Hockey Night in Canada song controversy. Thoughts? I think that everyone should stop thinking this is all the fault of the CBC and start heaping part of the blame where blame is due -- on the woman who is licensing the song. Just a thought.



Have a great weekend! And don't forget the positive thoughts!

Wow.

That is all.

The Bane of My Existence

Is Perth’s Drycleaning!

Seriously.

So, they lose a shirt of mine (and as an aside, it shouldn’t matter that I left the shirts there for as long as I did….why could they find all my other ones that I brought in at the same time and not the black one??). I am completely blameless in this matter. Completely. But, I digress… So, ANYWAY -- I call their “customer service” department to give a solid WTF (but very polite-like and stuff) and I talk to their “customer service” manager (and yes, those two words really do deserve the quotes) and she assures me that she will get back to me the next day with some answers to my questions. I think, sweet – the next day…this woman is really on top of it. But then….I wait.

A day goes by, then two, then five…

Then a week… then a week and a half...

So, I decide to call and deliver another WTF. No “human” this time (quotations needed again) but voicemail. I leave a very clear and detailed message (as the machine requests) and then I wait some more. NOTHING. No reply. So I begin a Call Perth’s Every Single Frickin’ Day campaign. Every day. Really? Has it really come to this? I leave a message every day that says, please call me back before close of business today. I leave a message EVERY DAY for 9 days. Seriously. 9 days in a row.

And then, finally a response. A voicemail stating that they have lost my black shirt and since it is approximately 6 months old they have to depreciate it by 50% (is there some sort of accounting method for drycleaners that I should get a handbook on?). So, they will pay me cash for 50% of the value OR give me the full amount in free drycleaning. People, please. PERTH’S, please. I feel it’s like admitting that their services are so crap that we should only pay 50% from here on in.

I have not yet decided which route to take.

And the other reason Perth’s is officially the bane of my existence: they charge me more because my shirts are not “normal-sized”. Really? You’re penalizing me because I have small boobs? I was paying for my shirts one day and noticed that they charged me more for my shirts that the posted price for “women’s blouses”. I ask the question and this is the response – well, your shirts are too small to fit on the normal-sized press so we can’t do them as fast as the other shirts and therefore have to charge you more.

That's all.

The End.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fungus?

Yikes.

Radio Silence on the blog for the last little while.

But – here I go again:

So, Hil is out, Obama is in. I am deeply disappointed. I really thought that she could do it, and more importantly, Barack drives me CRA-ZY and I’m not sure if I can stand the more and more and more of him that is to come (does he not seem so incredibly arrogant to all of you?). It absolutely drives Ty insane that I freely admit that one of the main reasons that I wanted Hil to win was simply because she is a woman. He thinks that “that goes against everything I thought you stood for”. Ouch. But honestly, what an amazing thing that would have been to see – a woman running the good old U.S. of A. After spending the last few years of my life in the setting of a law firm, I can safely say that we are a LONG way from figuring out this man-woman balance thing.

Speaking of things that Ty thinks I stand for – we are still debating what we are going to do about the “name thing”. To change or not to change. Me, or Ty, or both or none? Ty’s friends seem to think it’s a given that I will become a W____ (I was introduced as Ty’s future wife, Ainsley W____-to-be, the other day). The name change does not bother me, but MAN does the assumption that I am obviously going to be changing over to a W_____ drive me up the wall. I am leaning towards a hyphen, to be honest. And yes, the kids (those way off in the future offspring) will have a hyphen as well. Go ahead, start your bashing now.

AND -- WEDDING COUNTDOWN IS ON! I am getting beyond excited!!

Mishandled?

Peaks thinks we should have thrown eggs at the BMW (or rocks) instead of requesting an apology. Please see his take on things below:


Dear Mrs & Mr Rice,

I would like to sincerely apologize for throwing eggs at your windows last week. I heard that you came to my house and tattled on me. My parents have threatened to take away my BMW, which really sucks because then I would have to use my sisters Land Rover for the remainder of the year. Just remember I know that you know who I am, and I know that you know I know where you live.

Signed,

Poorly Handled

P.S. Next time if you really want to get me, call SJR, as a concerned citizen in the neighbourhood tell them you saw my BMW cruising the streets throwing eggs at houses and vandalizing property. Seeing as they are truly responsible for me and not my parents I may actually receive some disciplinary action.

Youth Gone Wild (Sebastien Bach Style)

Yikes!

Has it really been THAT long since I've posted?

So much to update, so little time before bed.

So, I will stick with some highlights.

Last weekend, I had a wedding shower! Thrown by Ty's aunts, especially for me (2 of his mom's sisters -- Patty and Leslie, and her sister-in-law, Irene). It was really wonderful of them -- I can't tell you enough just how lovely Ty's family is. Now I know that everybody knows someone who is ultra-kind, ultra-lovely, ultra-all-around-GREAT, but let me tell you, these women would give that person you know a run for your money. I honestly cannot stress enough how welcoming and warm these women are.

Now -- as for the actual shower part -- I have to tell you, it is entirely weird to have all that attention well, “showered” on you. I was extremely nervous. Like, "wow, are people noticing the sweat beads on my forehead" nervous. I kept thinking, am I opening this too slow (is everyone totally bored) or I am ripping through these too fast (is everyone thinking how absolutely rude I am). ANYWAY -- to say the least, I am now more prepared for what exactly goes on at a shower. (I should point out that no one "cleansed" me so as to prepare me for marriage. Damn -- maybe that's a special request you must put in beforehand?)

Hmmmm. Ok, get ready for this. Our house got egged. Yep, you read that right. We move into East Charleswood and our house gets egged. Go figure. We did, however, manage to catch the little shits that did it. We got the license plate of their car (a black BMW) and we went to their house. And – that’s when things went a little sideways. First off, no one lives in their ridiculously huge house during the week because they live in Vancouver. Secondly, the BMW does not belong to either parent, but rather it belongs to the 16 YEAR OLD son. Are you kidding me? Really? Your 16 year old drives a beamer? How incredibly, incredibly annoying of you. Anyway, the kid doesn’t live there during the week, because he is a boarder at St. John’s Ravenscourt. He only goes home on the weekends.

So, good old mom reveals to us, immediately after we tell her that her son egged our house – twice – that her “son is a good kid, it was probably one of his friends that made him do it”. To this I say -- obviously. What kid who has such incredibly supportive parents (I mean, only the supportive kind buy BMWs for their 16 year olds) would throw eggs at the new peeps on the block?

I requested an in-person apology. I will most certainly be back on her doorstep if I do not get one by the end of this week.

Heading to Calgary this weekend...cannot wait! I am more than excited (overjoyed, even) to see everyone!

And as an administrative note – as soon as I find my camera cord, I will post pictures. I have SO many good ones to put up.

And one tiny little last comment. I LOVED Oryx & Crake. What a spectac read. And I can already tell I am going to love The Robber Bride. Should I invite Ms. Atwood to the event of the summer??

Bohdi! This is your wakeup call I AM AN F... B... I AGENT!

Thanks for the suggestions! Much appreciated. A Bill Bryson book it will be.

So is it really only Tuesday today? Really? Then why oh why do I feel in desperate need of a weekend?

By way of a quick update -- Ty and I hosted an engagement party at our house on Friday. Very fun. I am getting to be terribly bad at taking pictures and thus have absolutely nothing to post from the party. Consider this my May 1 resolution -- more pictures, please. And on that note, I was looking through some pictures on my camera and came across some very, very entertaining pictures. How about the after-party in our hotel room in Banff after Winterstart? Yes ladies, I certainly am talking about THOSE pictures. Way too funny. I question why we ever felt the need to photo-document the night. And yet I can't erase them.

I read/heard (I truthfully can't remember if I read this or heard it and I don't have even the slightest clue where it came from -- if I am inadvertently quoting the Hills, which I may very well be doing, please shoot me. Fast.) something that made me give pause the other day. I am completely paraphrasing, so many apologies to the source, but it was something to the effect of how it's good to be good at what you do, but when you are good at something, you question it less and never feel the need to change. Now, no one could ever accuse me of being good at what I do, but I kinda like what they are saying. Or maybe it's just because it doesn't make me feel bad about desperately wishing I could re-choose my profession?

And one last one before I retire for the night. I am fairly annoyed at Hillary Clinton for challenging Barack to a debate without a moderator. I don't blame him for turning it down. The whole thing just seems so....contrived. Hillary is totally my girl, but man Hill, re-think those stunts you have been pulling lately. And I am not choosing the word stunt lightly.

Oh wait -- ONE last thought. Georges Laraque is my new favourite player after reading the article reproduced below (and scoring tonight, too). Ellis, I realize he's not a huge points guy, but I think we need him in our pool next year regardless. Just for the good guy factor.

Here's the article:

"My nephew [Jordon] was a victim of muscular dystrophy and was in the last stages of this mindnumbing disease. On Friday, after much deliberation, he decided to go off the ventilator and go along with whatever happened ... The doctors said it was just a matter of time."

NEW YORK -- The kid was 19, and he only had a few hours left. Maybe another night.
Georges Laraque had just checked into a hotel in Calgary. Hadn't even unzipped his bag when a secretary of a friend called his cellphone. Everybody gets Georges' cell number.
"She asked me if I could come to Edmonton," he said. "There was this kid who was going to die. He had a couple hours to live, they thought, and his last wish was to see me."
Laraque was playing for the Edmonton Oilers at the time. He checked out, got in his truck, and made the two-hour, forty-five minute drive back to Edmonton "in an hour and 45 minutes."
"I was driving sometimes on the shoulder. I knew I wasn't going to get a ticket, because of the reason I was going back for. Karma, you know?"
There isn't a story that better sums up Laraque, the best heavyweight in the National Hockey League who has been driven to distraction simply trying to make people happy. Other players show up late for that hospital visit, or need to be asked and reminded numerous times to commit to a school read-in? Laraque has done his best to fit the games in while answering every single request through his nine-year career.
Why?
"'Cause I love it," the 31-year-old Laraque says. "One of the purest things to do in life is to give back. I am Catholic, a Christian. The best thing to do to pay God back for giving me a chance to play in the NHL is to give back to the community.
"[An NHL heavyweight] is not what I am when I'm off the ice. I'm a nice person. I laugh all the time. When I retire, I don't want to be remembered as a fighter, as a goon. What's more important? Winning a Cup? Beating up guys? Or being there, trying to make a difference?"
"Now, Jordon has always been a great fan of hockey. To make a long story short, on Friday the Oilers found out about Jordon's plight. Somehow and with no notice, Georges Laraque came up from Calgary and visited Jordon at the University Hospital in the ICU ... He chatted with Jordon and even apologized that he had been so rushed to get to the hospital he didn't have time to pick up some hockey souvenirs for Jordon."
On April 17, the day after the Penguins had eliminated the Senators in Ottawa, Laraque told his cousin that he had an idea.
There was this school, an hour from Pittsburgh. A few weeks earlier they had sent him a Flat Stanley - a little character made by students that is mailed out along with a disposable camera and a journal. The hope is that the recipient will mail back the character, the cameras, and the journal, and the kids can see what adventures their little figure had experienced.
That afternoon, 21 fifth-graders in Ms. Marmol's class at Hatfield Elementary looked up to see Laraque standing in their classroom doorway. He had the camera, full of shots of Stanley with various Penguins. The journal was filled out.
"People say, ‘It's too much.' Well, what's too much?" Laraque asks. "People come from all over the place to watch our games. Why can't we go there?"
Laraque has kept his home in Edmonton, and every Halloween makes sure the house is decorated, and friends are there to hand out candy. He returned after his first season in Pittsburgh last summer armed with a handful of signed Sidney Crosby jerseys, then walked into the local sports station and said, "Let's give these away." Then he drove the jerseys out to the winners' homes, or at worst, met them at a Tim Hortons nearby.
"Now I run into people," says radio host Bob Stauffer, whose show Laraque frequents, "and they say, ‘Hey, you're the guy who's on Georges' show all the time.'"
As a player, Laraque has found the perfect home in Pittsburgh. He is only getting six-and-a-half minutes of ice time per playoff game, but he's playing. Last year coach Michel Therrien didn't like Laraque's fitness when he came from Phoenix at the trade deadline, and would not play him on the road in the post-season.
"I know Georges really well. I coached Georges when he was 19 years old. We won a Memorial Cup together," Therrien said yesterday. "Now, he's in great shape. He's an enforcer - he's there to make sure we earn some respect - but he can play. He's good at cycling the puck, and really tough to contain when he has the puck down low. He's a totally different player than he was last year."
Still, Laraque is like every other heavyweight: he would far rather be a skill player. In fact, he really doesn't like to fight at all.
"It's not my personality. It's my job," he says. "I don't get all revved up to fight. I'm calm. I wish the guy good luck, and I hope that he's OK after the fight. I know they have lives, they have kids and lives after hockey. I don't want to hurt anyone."
As the conversation turns to hockey, Laraque's interest wanes a bit. He'd rather talk about what a hockey player can do away from the rink.
"Look at the life we're living? Look at the world, what's going on?" he says. "If you make a lot of money, and you give a lot to charity, that's the easiest thing to do. You should go there, to the people. Spend time. Guys say, ‘Oh yeah, I give a lot to charity.' Who cares about that?"
"Georges might never know how much that visit meant to Jordon and his parents. Jordon, who was 19, died on Monday."
"When you give someone a moral boost like that, sometimes you give them the will to live. The boost he got made him so happy, they said he lived another few days because of that," Laraque said.
"The fact I have the power to do this? I do as much as I can."

Books suggestions, stat!

Am running low on reading material -- anybody have any good suggestions for what I should dig into next? I am likely placing an order with Amazon later this week, so if you have anything in mind, please let me know sooner than later. Thanks in advance!

I heart Boston. Big Time.

I am ridiculously in love with Boston. It is simply one of the most beautiful cities that I have ever been in. I flew in on Friday night, home late last night. A quick trip to watch my sister rock the marathon, and then back to business. A few notes:

- Andrea ran a 3.26. (see below for a video of Andrea and my mother's hand)
- We stayed in Cambridge, at a hotel right next to M.I.T. It was embarrassing because the recruiting people from M.I.T. would NOT leave us alone. They just kept saying – “please, come and solve this math equation for us”. FYI M.I.T. nerds, I am so above where you are, we talk in different languages. I solve equations you don’t know exist.
- Lance ran the marathon with a posse. And when I say posse, I mean he ran with 4 people around him at all times. Come now. Necessary? I think not. Take a seat, Lance.
- Went to the marathon after-party (because I totally deserved to go…watching those runners was hard work). Note: if you ever need to feel “cool”; go to a marathon after-party. Although they have lots of fun, marathoners are not exactly super cool. There were a few people randomly having “Westhawks” around the bar; will post-pictures after. For those of you who don’t know the lingo: a Westhawk = a nap taken in the middle of a party.
- We toured Harvard; went on a tour of Fenway Park; hung out in Boston Common and in the Public Garden; watched the hockey game at Cheers. Loved it all. Will post some pics when I get home because I know most of you prefer pictures to words. And that’s OK.
AND – this is being put in writing so you can appreciate that it is big news that I am going to be forced to live up to.
I want to run the Boston Marathon. I. Want. To. Run!

The Earl, please

I just want everyone to know that I realize how ridiculous it is that I love Starbucks. Apart from the philosophical and the moral stuff that I may be ruthlessly ignoring, the crux of the matter is this: I drink tea. Earl Grey tea. So, why is tea from Starbucks any different from tea at Second Cup, or TH's? It's not. And yet it just somehow is.

And I think it's OK to like something just because.

That's all.

Ok, must vent.

Post was edited for niceness by a contrite Ainsley.



On a more pleasant subject, hockey playoffs and the Masters have both begun, events which I enjoy reading about and watching (highlights) of. Yes, I’m a band-wagon jumper, as I don’t really follow hockey through the year, or golf. But I say that without shame – I mean, really, where’s the harm? Myself and Ellis have entered into another hockey pool as Amainsley, and we are totally going to dominate this year, if I do say so myself. On a more philosophical note, why aren’t we called Ainsanda? Think about that one, friends, and get back to me. We have Anaheim facing off against Pittsburgh in the finals. Oh, and we have Iginla. Can you guess who made that call?

Also, I would like to note that I received a blog comment! Yesssss. Super pumped about my first comment. These are the moments we must savour. Everybody else, it’s very easy – you can even heckle me… you don’t even have to create an account, if you don’t want to.

And lastly, before I bid everyone a good weekend, I would like to note that I have added this to my email signature: Please think green before printing this email. I think you guys should as well. See how tricky I am? The font is green. Please note that I wrote that with much glee.

And with that floating in your brians, have a great one. I will think of you all frolicking in the sun as I spend 2 straight days in collaborative law training.

The Junos

Junos last night.

Stage design included oil wells and what appeared to be oil barrels. A large mound of them in a heap (of garbage?).

Am totally unimpressed.

Thoughts?

Am I being overly preachy?

Passion anyone?

Do you ever get the feeling that you don't have a passion in your life? I do. I get that feeling a lot, and it worries me and it scares me. I think, "why don't I love photography enough to take a class and carry a camera with me"? Or, why don't I paint, fish, ski, knit, do yoga, etc., etc because I love it so much I can't stay away?

I want a passion, it's just that I haven't figured out I am passionate about yet. Please note the "yet". A few years ago, I used to think it was because a passion hadn't found me yet. Just recently, I realized how ridiculous that notion was. Of course my passion isn't going to find me; I need to find it (please note that in writing that sentence I erased the word "should" and put in the word "need"). And I think this is something we should all do. I know that we are all very busy individuals...I am the certainly the first one to always discuss how "busy" I am (and I put that into quotations because I often, as you all know, create the busy, and thus the panic, that follows in my life). We just simply need to realize that life is here, it's here now, so let's get at it. I think I am making this a "we" thing so I feel better about this -- it seems more approachable that way.

And what would be even better would be to have a passion that would contribute somehow. Oh -- and a passion that I could please do with my friends. Particularly my girlfriends.

So, can we please figure this out? What we want to do and contribute and be passionate about?
Please?

Sometimes I worry that I am simply not creative enough to figure this out on my own.
(side note: is it a sign that I kept typing "wimp" when I was trying to type "simply" for that sentence?)
Sometime I worry that I don't have all that much imagination. And when I think that, I think about what I can do to ensure that my children get more imagination than I have. And then I worry that I may not be able to teach them to be imaginative because I don't have enough imagination. And you can all see that this is going nowhere in a huge hurry.

Please help. Stat. Need a passion.

The clip I have included with this post is long (18 minutes) but well worth watching (just maybe not when you are attempting to bill more than 5 hours, which is the number that I billed today. Really? 5 hours? Why was I at work for 8!! Damn it!). Andrea turned me on to the site where this clip came from -- TED.com (thank you, thank you, thank you to An). The one that I have included here is Isabel Allende -- very passionate, very, very inspiring.

Jessica Biel -- eat your heart out.

Wow. That's all.

ps. I just checked out Lainey gossip and note that she ends her post relating to the above picture with "that's all" as well. Can someone please tell her to stop copying me?

Earth Hour - check

Ty and I took part in Earth Hour on Saturday, and I have to tell you, I feel pretty good about it. It’s an important cause. At first, as 8 p.m. was approaching, we were both hesitant to stop what we were doing and shut it all down (in fact, we actually asked each other – what are we going to do? Should we go out for dinner? Does eating out constitute an earth-friendly activity? Should we play crib by candlelight instead?) but as we turned off the lights, the television, the computer, we realized just how nice it was to have an un-interrupted hour of just talking and lounging.
Go earth, go.
Listening to talk radio this morning, heard a looo-ser of a guy talking about how not only did he not participate in earth hour, but he actually intentionally turned on more lights. Excuse me? Really? I get not backing the cause; I understand not participating. But negative participation? Do not get even one bit.

Earth Hour -- let's do this.

Tonight at 8 a.m., it's earth hour. For all of us that love the lake, the mountains and everything else that makes Canada, Kenora, Canmore, West Hawk, etc. unique and beautiful, we should show our respect and solidarity and turn off the lights for one hour tonight.

Back by Popular Demand

Based on the many, many requests I have received for an update to my blog (read: 2), it appears that you are all waiting with bated breath for a new installment. As I am certainly not one to disappoint, I will bow to the wishes of the masses and respond to my peeps. (And yes, I am THAT intelligent that I am now using Shakespearean language in my blog. This blog is reaching new levels.)

First off, some administrative tasks. I must offer “props” to one Calvin Hammett for his review blog. Hammy – love the review blog. You know your blog has made it when another blog is reviewing your blog. I intend, once I become more blog-savvy, to include a link to young Hammy’s blog. Secondly, please note that my SB mug collection has doubled. My lovely sis came bearing gifts from Calgary and I now own a “Stampede City” mug.

Wow has this week gone FAST. I can hardly believe that it is already Thursday. I suppose that is partly due to the fact that I have Andrea staying with me – time always seems to go faster when you have something good happening, no? If anyone is looking for that one-of-a-kind wedding gift, I would love a time machine, please and thanks.

I also want to mention what a great Easter I had. Andrea came home, Haney came home, and I had two fantastic, home-cooked family dinners. One at Shaun's family's place in Lockport (with all his sisters, kids, grandparents, etc.) and one at Haney's (with all her aunts, cousins, Ben, Clarke, her mom and Terry). Thanks to both for including us in your family plans. So lovely. I should mention that haney made a stellar egg hunt for Ben. Too funny. She lost count of the eggs, so a few "bonus" eggs were found. Never a bad thing, those bonus eggs.

And speaking of family, my parents start the trek home from Florida on Sunday, and I can’t wait to see them. Along with the fact that I haven’t seen them since Christmas and I miss them, I also have many, many things that I need my dad’s help with around the house. Why oh why wasn’t I born more handy? For any of you that have been over lately, you’ll have noticed that we still don’t have the electrical outlets all done, we still haven’t dealt with the closet doors, we still don’t have blinds. Every person on our street now knows that we have a dance floor as opposed to a kitchen table, because anyone that walks by has a full view right into our kitchen / living room. All in good time, right?

So, I am interested in hearing opinions on an issue that I am currently dealing with at work. Consent. And if you think a minor should be allowed to consent to a medical procedure if they are “mature”. If someone has been raised a certain way (in a certain culture or religion, or with a certain set of beliefs), are we able to tell them their beliefs are wrong, regardless of their age? Or -- how do you separate what someone actually believes, from if they are able to offer an informed decision? I mean if someone is telling you that they absolutely do not want to consent to a medical procedure that a doctor has recommended (and it may be a matter of severe injury to them if they do not get the procedure), how can you look at it and separate “them” from their beliefs? Am I getting this across correctly? To put it in a way I don’t really want to (I am only using this language to try make myself clear), at what point do you say, that belief is coming from brainwashing or indoctrination?

And on a completely different note, I attended a Norwex party last night. Interesting. Main selling technique – fear. And it works, let me tell you. You truly start to believe that there are millions of scary chemicals churning around at all times. Which I am sure there are, however, I somewhat prefer the ignorant bliss I was living in. The woman giving the presentation tried to make a link between the levels of autism in our society now versus ten years ago and the chemicals we use in everyday life. Me, as an uninformed lawyer, thought – wow, that sounds bad. On the way home, Andrea and Haney pointed out that, although she may have a point, there is also simply more autism diagnosed, there is not necessarily more around. We also got into a discussion about autism and vaccinations, and in particular the family in the states that sued because her “normal” son was diagnosed with autism after receiving certain vaccinations. Definitely something to think about when we start having kids of our own. http://www.nvic.org/Diseases/autismsp.htm

Also at the Norwex party -- I put my foot in my mouth in the most MASSIVE way. I can’t even begin to tell you what a dumbass I was. I am more than embarrassed and my stomach is churning just thinking about it. I was really nervous to be there in the first place, so I of course start talking loudly and fast (no surprise there) and then I make an idiot of myself. Oh, Winnipeg. When oh when am I going to win you over?

Three is the New Four

So, last week, on Thursday, when I was patiently waiting to see if we were going to be able to jet off to Montreal, I went outside to go for a mini-run in my neighborhood during the day (on a weekday! I felt like a decadent lunching mom!). AND – wait for it – I met a (gasp) neighbor! Not a next door neighbor, mind you, but someone that lives in the East Charleswood ‘hood with me. And she was walking a three-legged dog; a dog that had just recently had it’s little leg amputated. It was one of those tiny creatures, and it had a mini jacket on. At first I thought, sad (not about the jacket, more about the leg). But the more I watched the dog wandering around being generally pleased with herself, it struck me that the dog had already adapted to the fact that she was going to have three, as opposed to the traditional four, legs from here on in. And really, I don’t think “adapted” is exactly the right word. I mean, that little dog was WORKING it. Like Lainey would say about Rumor Willis, she was working her good angles. At one point, I am quite certain she was judging me and MY jacket.

Anyway – my point – I have not done the best job of adapting this year, albeit I’ve had a lot of change in my life, but from today on (and you all have permission to remind me that I wrote this) I am going to be more like the three-legged mini-animal.

Oooo –on another topic entirely -- tomorrow, when I go to Starbucks for an earl grey tea with lots of room (one teabag), I am going to buy the drink for the person in line behind me. Because wouldn’t you love it if someone did that for you?? And speaking of SB, I went this morning with Ty on the way to work and there were 2 (2!) cars running in the parking lot while people went in to get their morning bevie. Really? (Please bear in mind that the temperature is in the pluses today). People, people, people.

Just because this is my third post in as many days, don’t think for even one second this is going to become a regular day-in; day-out thing. You guys know me – my bet is that in ONE month (or less?), this is going to be very, very sporadic. But for now, it is certainly a FANTASTIC way to take a mini-break from the battle I am currently having with the JW’s.

Happy Easter Everyone!

Girl of Summer

Tomorrow is officially the first day of spring. This has been a long, long, cold winter. Needless to say, I have been looking so forward to spring and then on to summer and cottage season. I absolutely cannot wait to try living in Winnipeg in the summer, because, to be honest, so far I am not all that impressed with the Winter Winnipeg (in fairness, I think it was simply this winter).

You know, in some ways I am envious of those in T.O. (yes, I did just write that). People I know from Toronto generally do not ever end up leaving Toronto, and thus they are always surrounded by people and family that they have known and loved forever. Now, I know some people would point out that this is not necessarily a good thing (the not leaving part, anyway), but my thought process is this: I like the idea of having roots in a community, having a strong sense of belonging, and being able to be close (as in down-the-street close) to friends and family. And when you stay in one place, this develops. And when I have children, I want to be surrounded by them. I want all of us together at the family cottage, at the Easter dinners, at the baseball games (Ellis' womb just shrivelled up a little bit more after reading that).

As per my comment last night, I went directly to SB and bought my first mug. However, it is not a “city” one. It’s a Canada one. Apparently Winnipeg does not have a big enough market to have their own Starbucks mug. Hmmm. I’m going to leave that one alone for when I am feeling more charitable towards Winnipeg. In any event, my collection has started. I started a list here to keep track – so far, very easy.

And – also in the news of my life -- I went online today and purchased a game of Wizard, which I am tres excited about. I do not remember how to play the game at all, but I have vague recollections of absolutely loving it (for those who are not familiar with the game -- it's a card game that, if I recall, you try and guess the number of tricks you have in your hand. It would also be unfair if I didn't give credit where credit was due -- this game was introduced to me by the Kyle / Johnson clan who are very, very big wizard players). Anyhow, for me, it’s a game that is associated with fun and summer, so I ordered it. I really have this picture in my mind right now of being at the cottage with a glass of wine in my hand, playing wizard. A thought such as that could certainly never lead me astray.

Started a new book last night -- In Cold Blood, Truman Capote. Thank-you, Doug Richardson. I am only ten pages in, and already I am impressed.

ps.

If you were hoping for some deep thoughts in this blog -- please forget about it. I seriously contemplated discussing Tori Spelling's cleavage here today.

Starbucks

And I totally forgot!

Anyone who knows me knows exactly how much I LOVE starbucks (I just can't help it), so today! today I am starting a Starbucks "city" mug collection. Yes, I am.

Take that, Second Cup.

Day 1

Ok -- here I go!

Rather than spend my time completely unproductively (which I vehemently feel I have been doing as late), I thought I may turn away from the celeb gossip (gasp) and put some of these random thoughts that are floating around in my head down in a blog.

Where to start? Well, perhaps by explaining why a blog...

Short answer -- no real reason at all; which I suppose doesn't really get us anywhere. Longer answer -- this is something I've always thought about doing; something that I have always thought would be cathartic. I have attempted keeping a diary, but have always ultimately failed miserably -- I am a slow writer and I hate my handwriting. So, this appears to be a solid alternative.

And, also, as a side note, I was ridiculously inspired by a blog I just read. Thank you, thank you, thank you, EB. I really needed to read what you wrote -- tonight especially.

And one note away from the new blog topic:

I am eternally greatful for my wonderful, intuitive friends. I have the most amazing friend who figured out I was having a terrible day over a few one-line emails. Thank you, love you, owe you. I absolutely miss you like crazy. Wish I was heading out for a run with you now!

Ok, wish me luck. It has begun. Please bear with me while I navigate this blog world as a "fresh" blogger.