To my faithful readers....

Hi Ken!  :)




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Why Pick February? Cause it is the shortest month, therefore I have the best chance of success....

Friday: friend and mentor’s last day of work. Went for drinks.

 

Saturday: very tired from all the travel as of late, plus previous nights drinks. Went out for dinner with friends. Decided to join a friend on his ‘Sober February’ undertaking, figured why not be there for moral support and get a little more healthy myself in the process.

 

 

Sunday: babysat nephew and watched Super bowl. Changed first diaper. Traumatized. Had a beer to forget.

Monday: went to airport. Filled out customs card. Signed and dated customs card. Dated…wait, what? It’s the 2^nd of February??? NO!!!! OMG, that means yesterday was also February! Oh no. I failed.

Monday evening: sat on a plane for 4 hours and spent first three hours wondering – do I admit I failed?? I mean no one who knows about the February thing saw me drink that beer. And it was an honest mistake... I didn't know it was February ALREADY?! I mean, it was JUST christmas... And beside that, anyone that has to change a diaper should automatically get a beer - so there is no way that particular beer, given the circumstance, should even count. That should be THE RULE over and above all other rules in life! Change a diaper; get a beer. In fact, that diaper genie thingy should HAND you a beer when you hand it a diaper. Now there, THAT would be a genie...

 

…spent last hour of flight realizing –If I was a mother and had to have a beer every diaper change, by day three I'd probably not have been a very good one….

 

 

 

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I Need My Space!

Tomorrow I go to NASA under the premise of a 'tour of the space center'.

But really, I'm secretly doing reconissance work. I want to get the lay of the land, if you will. For my plan while I'm in Houston is to start frequenting the grounds like I belong. I plan to just go and hang out there, lunch there most days, rent a space suit and wear it as I wander around saying 'good morning, how's the family?' to everyone like we've worked together for years. I want me and that space suit to become so ingrained in everyone's minds, they will eventually mistake me for an astronaut and send me to outer space!

I thought the Galapagoes was out of this world....just imagine a trip that really is 'out of this world'!!!!!

 

 

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Guns don't kill people...people kill people

I work in Houston, Texas now.

In the office there is a sign that tells people they cannot bring their guns to work.

But that doesn't make any sense?!  I mean, how do they plan to settle work conflicts???

 

Then I noticed there is no sign for 'no swords'

...so I guess that's how!

 

 

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"Present!"

I grew up in a small town, well I call it a ‘town’ but it probably never ever qualified as such since I was there…maybe in its finest hour post-my-birth it could have passed for a hamlet.  But regardless – I grew up in a rural area where a few ‘towns’ would send their children to one larger town to go to school.  You can imagine there weren’t terribly many of us.  The average class was about 10 students. 

And yet…we had roll call.

Seriously.

Every morning the teacher (who was also born and raised in the area, knew all our parents, knew their parents, and definitely knew their children) would say, ‘Tanya?’  Like she couldn’t see me or didn’t know which one I was.

And dutifully I’d say, ‘Present.’

On some days when I’d maybe rolled out the wrong side of my bed – which was under the circumstance, nearly impossible, my bed being next to a wall – yet, even back then – back then when I had no responsibilities – no idea yet what the hell a T4 was, that gas or toilet paper cost actual money, or that if I left my dirty socks on the floor by the bed they could in fact, remain dirty socks beside a bed for endless weeks –  I somehow managed to have bad days.  How that was, I have no idea.  But on these days I wouldn’t offer my reply quite as promptly.

The teacher would ask, “Tanya?”

Silence.

Then again, “Tanya?” as she stared at me.

On the third, “Tanya?”, I would reply, “Present.”

Then all would be well and she could move along. 

I often wondered what happened if I was sick.

How long did she stand there asking, “Tanya?”

At what point did she mark you as ‘Absent’?  Did someone have to tell her?  Did she have a 5 time maximum?  I wish now that I would have been stronger back then, waited her out, stayed silent until she finally conceded and marked me as absent even though I was clearly sitting there in desk number 6/10.  How shocked she would have been when I didn’t answer, she finally went ahead and marked me as ‘Absent’, and then an hour or so later I raised my hand to answer a question in class!  Would she have fainted out of sheer surprise?  Or simply went on like she’d known all along I was there? 

Could you get detention if you weren’t even there as per roll call?  I bet not.  Damn.

 

…sigh…another opportunity missed.

 

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further to my previous post...

Uh.  My mother just 'advised' me I should be shopping in 'adult only' stores...well, uh, ok...I suppose the toys I'd find there wouldn't be for the little ones..... 

hahahaha

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Advice from an Auntie

I highly, highly recommend that before you decide to have nieces and nephews you get yourself a decent job - everything costs more after you become an auntie.

For instance, I finished reading The Book Thief and needed another book to get through the rainy Vancouver days so I stopped by the local book store.  I picked up a recommended read for $17.00.  Then I walked to the counter to pay.  That's all I did - walk through the store to the counter to pay.  By the time I reached the counter, my seventeen dollar book cost me $51.66.

And don't even get me started about what happens in toy stores, even just walking by a toy store can cost what would otherwise be a pair of shoes...oh how I miss the days when I could afford shoes!

Some people brag when December 1st rolls around...they say, "I have ALL my christmas shopping done already!"

Ya, well I have nieces and nephew that are 5, 3-minus-a-few-days, 1, and almost 1 and I have all my christmas shopping done until at least the first one hits 10.

So there.


I also need a second job if you hear of anyone that's hiring...maybe something in a shoe store, but not one that sells cute little miniature shoes in children's sizes...


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Excuse me, you're dripping.....

Do you know what freaks me out?

Drops of liquid on the floor of a bathroom stall.

How??!  How does that happen?  Girls wipe, not shake – I don’t care what number it is.  The ceiling isn’t leaking.  You didn’t come out with a glass of water that spilled.  And the sink is outside the stall so it’s not like those drops fell from your fingers between the sink and the paper towel.  So how did the droplets get there??! 

AND, even if you ‘forgot’ to wipe, just like you ‘forgot’ to wash your hands on the way out, when you stand up, wouldn’t your ‘droplets’ land on you own gotch?  Standing with your pants down or your skirt hiked, you would still have your gotch between you and the floor, no?  Or did you also forget your gotch?  

To all the gotchless, non-wipers out there – when you go to the bathroom, take a freakin’ mop.  No one in the world has any desire to step in your floor pee. 

 

…I wonder…does your cat have a litterbox or does everyone in your house just pee on the floor?

 

 
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GO(LD) CANADA!!!!

Here's what happens in Canada when the Olympic men's hockey gold medal match is scheduled for the wee hours of the morning:

Alberta opens their bars early.
Saskatchewan keeps their bars open.
BC tells their bars they can open, but they can't serve alcohol.


WTF?  I don't deserve this - I didn't riot.  I should get to do the canadian thing too and have a beer while I watch hockey, but NNNNOOOOO...all these west coasters - these perfect hippies with their bicycles and yoga mats, and their environmentally friendly cloth bags full of organic greens, and their pent up rage - went and ruined it for everyone...


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Who Would Do THAT?!?!

It is not right to judge other people.  I have always believed this with one exception - those olympians who involve themselves in skeleton sliding – they are the exception.  CLEARLY they are insane.  I mean who chooses to slide down a treacherous track on a 2 and a half foot long board - face-first, arms uselessly at their sides, with only a thin layer of spandex as protection?  With only their aura surrounding them, they reach speeds that would have them arrested on the highway if they were in a steel framed, air-bag-equipped one ton truck!  To choose this, one has to be certifiable – of that, I am sure. 

On a recent visit to Whistler I went to the Whistler Sliding Center - the site of the 2010 Olympic bobsled, luge and skeleton track - a track well known as the fastest track in the world.   As I entered the visitor center, I noticed sitting just inside the door was a skeleton sled.  Seeing that sled first-hand validated my previous judgement.  “Those people are crazy,” I said out loud.  I could barely even look at the contraption and imagine a person on their belly with their face hanging off the front and their legs hanging off the back, just inches off the ground, without feeling a little ill.  

Luckily I am not crazy, so I walked past the skeleton and went to sign my waiver for the bobsled ride.  You see, there is crazy and then there is adventurous.  I am adventurous.  So yes. I was there to travel down the fastest track in the world at speeds of over 120 km/hr and experience a g-force around 3-4g’s, but I would be sensibly sitting upright in a bobsled - not laying on a glorified crazy carpet face-first.  No, I am not trained in the sport of bobsled, but I figured that if 4 guys from Jamaica could do it, then surely a girl born in the middle of a Saskatchewan winter could too.  Plus, they gave me a helmet and a safety lesson.    

So after a ten minute video I climbed my little butt into the bobsled with a fellow Saskatchewanite who grew up around snowmobiles (surely an asset), an Aussie who grew up around kangaroos and jellyfish (not an asset) and a guy who had been down the track several times before (we let him steer).  And together we reached a top speed of 124.6 km/hr.  It was the best 41.53 seconds of my week by far!  

We climbed out of the sled after it was all said and done, adrenaline pumping through our veins and excited chatter falling from our lips.  Then the lady from the sliding centre said, ‘It’s amazing hey?!  You should try the skeleton!”

A few minutes later, as the three of us traded in our bobsled helmets for smaller helmets and goggles and headed back up the track, I wondered if you put two Saskatchewanites and an Aussie in the same room if any good decision would ever get made...  My first time on a skeleton slide was a little scary as I fought the g-force pushing my head down onto the ice when I reached a speed of 96 km/hr.  But, my second time was just plain exhilarating as I let my chin scrape on the ice without resistance and I pointed my toes to make myself more aerodynamic.  I don’t mean to brag, but on that second run I reached a top speed of 98.05 km/hr and shaved .22 of a second from my previous time!  

I know what you are thinking, but you know, it is really not right to judge anyone...

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The Library

Friday after work I went to the Library. 

Now I know what you are thinking - 4 years in university and the girl barely steps foot in the library and now that's what she does on friday after work?! 

It's not that I never went to the library in those days - I did go once, but I found the people weren't very social.  I didn't like it.  So many people and I couldn't talk to any of them.  I felt like a cat beside an aquarium.  Anyhow, I tried to go back from time to time, I truly tried, but in my defense, if they really wanted us to go to the library they wouldn't have put it so close to the Den...

So, it's friday afternoon and the people said, "let's go to the Library!"

All I could think was, great.  Vancouver - where no one eats whales, no one is pro-oil-spills, no one is seen without a starbucks in one hand and a yoga mat in the other and now this...friday after work and they want to drag me to a Library...  I was contemplating if I could be turned into a tofu-eating yogi but I draw the line at this.  Friday after work is reserved for one thing and one thing only. 

But when you are somewhere new and have limited friends, well - beggars can't be choosers.  I went to the Library.


Imagine my delight when The Library turned out to be a pub!

It's crazy brillant isn't it?!  Why did the UofC not think of this years ago??  If they called the Den, the Library, I would have gone three times a week!!  Just imagine how smart I'd be now....sigh...

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Dear Diary

It has been 7 days now in which I have been trapped on this soggy island...work on the ark is progressing slowly.  Curling irons and nice shoes have been abandoned.  Food supplies are running low.  The only way to replenish them would be to venture 4 blocks, but travel is ill advised for umbrellas and rubber boots have proven futile weapons against such force.  Word hasn't travelled far being the outside world is suffering from power outages, but I remain hopeful that a rescue party will find us here soon.  The current shelter is holding up, but I expect it won't be long before rainwater begins to seep through....  Spirits on the island are begining to wan.  Its been 7 days in this gray world and there is no sign of reprieve.  Oh how I long for summer.  To see light and cloudless skies.  To feel warm and dry.  I pray that the bailing buckets remain intact, I pray that this island does not get washed to sea, I pray that the ark reaches completion in time.  In this bleak world only one thing seems certain - those summers of my youth spent collecting swimming badges will surely not go to waste.

I must sign off now, it is time to gather wood from which to fashion spears to fend off sharks and pirates should this land be swept away and a life at sea begin.  The rainwaters are pooling, it seems there is little time left for preparation.  I shall sleep this night in a life jacket; a preserver as my pillow.

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Dear Mr. Realtor...merry christmas to you too....

So here’s the thing. There are certain expectations one has in life.  One of them is when you buy a home, you will get a little house-warming gift from your realtor. 

I never did. 

My realtor was away when I picked up the keys to my place - he said he’d come by and drop something off later, but never did.  I was disappointed sure, I mean a precedent has been set in this area, it’s become an expectation when you trade in your life savings for four walls.  But I chalked it up to, ‘well he forgot’.  And I’ve tried to just not think about it, which works fine except that people keep asking for my realtor...cause aside from the lack of chocolate I was really happy with him.  But I feel like I can’t give out his name...I want my friends to have that ‘awww’ moment when they open their thank you card.  But then, I was really happy with him so I want to recommend him.  Ugh, such a dilemma…

Then, the other day, in the mail – almost a year to the date of when I purchased my home – came an envelope.    

“Oh my gosh, he remembered!!”  All my problems were solved!  I ripped it open expecting to find a note, ‘hope you are enjoying your new home!” and a gift card or a very tiny, very flat bottle of wine.  Instead I found a Christmas card with his signature and his business card tucked inside.  It was almost insulting…he sent me business cards?!?!...this he remembers to do!?!

But silly as it seems, I still hold out hope, maybe he’ll remember in the spring when he’s staring out the window, looking at the world turn green then suddenly he’ll think, oh geez, I never did get that basket of cheese to Tanya….I better go do that now.  It’ll be all moldy, but I’d still take it!!

Yes.  When it comes to these things, I’m ever the optimist! 

Chop Chop

Pinch me!

 

My two favorite things in the whole entire universe are going to the hair salon and having a beer.  To my delight I have discovered a salon in Vancouver that serves you beer while they cut your hair!! 

 

 

I’m not making this up  I promise – heck, I could never lead you on about something so delicious.  Aww...sigh....I always thought that was what heaven was - a never-ending someone running their fingers through your hair while you sipped a never ending beer.  But now I find this is something I can do before I die!  You can imagine my excitement!!

 

You know, I’ve been to Kathmandu and Marrakesh and Ebenezer, and that was all nice…but let me tell you it’s going to be surreal to scratch “Go to heaven” from my bucket list!

 

 

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Itsy Bitsy Spider

I have an interesting friend…wait…HAD a friend.  My balcony in my summer home in Vancouver, has a glass exterior.  So a few weeks ago, a, slightly-on-the-larger side, yellow-y, black spider built a web on the outside of the glass.  I hate spiders.  They scurry on eight appendages, they lurk, they are gross.  So of course, my first reaction was ‘EEEWWWWW, how do I get him away?!’  Then I thought about spending the summer indoors.  But then I thought, ok, logically, I’m bigger and more dangerous to him then he is to me and he’s on the other side, so if he stays there, then it’s ok.  Plus I’m grown up, I’m mature, he’s just a spider...

 

So after much deliberation I let him be. 

And I have to admit, it was pretty cool.  I did spend a little time out there observing the little fellow as he patiently waited for dinner and then scrambled over in a flash to grab his prey, bring his supper back to the center of his finely crafted web before devouring it.   I watched him expand and repair his beautifully symetrical web.  It was good - my own discovery channel.  He stayed on his side of the glass and I stayed on mine.  I actually came to be pretty proud of my buddy.  People came over and I’d show him off.  He had it pretty good there for the longest part of August. 

 

And then the rain came.  Washed the spider away.

 

And being that it’s Vancouver, the ‘out comes the sun and dried up all the rain…’ part never happened.

He just disappeared.  About a week went by, until a friend from Calgary was in the city and stopped by for a visit.  I was showing off my summer home, and even took him out on the balcony and said, ‘sometimes I sit out here and read or there was this spider over here, he was my buddy… ‘ and as I pointed to where he had resided on the outside of the glass, my finger felt something sticky, stringy….oh GROSS!!!  A spider web!!!  EWWWW.

 

And then.

 

I saw him.

 

Tucked under the railing on MY side of the glass!!

 

I screamed as I ran into the condo and locked the door.  My poor friend on the other side.

 

 

How could he?  I mean you didn’t see me coming over the glass on his side while he called it home.  Yes, I had thought about it.  But I didn’t knock down his web.  Ok, sure it was cause I was scared that he’d panic, or I’d panic, and he’d fly into my face somehow, but the point is – I left him be and we got along fine!!  Quite neighborly in fact.

 

And to think - I even shooed poor stupid flies his direction!

 

 

So, it turns out – spiders are gross.  They are evil, they lurk, and they definitely can’t be trusted.

 

 

Only time I open my balcony door now is to let in the poor innocent flies.

 

That's right Mr. Spider-Pants...I won't be shooing any dinner your way anymore until you get off my property!!!

 

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Pass the Soup

Is it because I'm getting old that I have these thoughts?

Today I went to grab a coffee and the coffee-ista, or coffee artist or whatever it is they call themselves, had two fairly large metal ball piercings. One through each of her cheeks. 

All I could think was, 'when this young lady eats soup, does it leak out and drip down the sides of her face? ...well, if it doesn't now, it sure will when she realizes that she has outgrown her rebellious years and removes the metal balls, for you can fill in a hole in the ground, but however will you fill in a hole in your face?'


I'm not intolerant or particularily judge-y. People make their own choices and I say all the power to them, but I just wonder sometimes how well people think things through.

But then, who knows. Maybe she doesn't even like soup.



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September Musings

Ah, and another September begins.  I’ve always loved Septembers.  They feel fresh – like the start of something new.  I guess it stems from years of starting another school year in September.  It’s amazing how certain things stick with you over the years.  

Anyhow, I had a lovely summer vacation!  Well...technically, minus the 'vacation' part – although living next to the ocean made it feel a lot like a vacation, even if I was working through the majority of it.

Vancouver had an amazing summer and enjoying the sunshine from its beaches made me realize how lucky I am for the opportunity to have lived in such different places – growing up on the Saskatchewan, prairies living amidst the Rockies in Calgary and now on the shores of the Pacific in Vancouver.  Each place unique and boasts its own pluses.  But I’ve also noticed that as the cities get bigger, one’s space in it gets smaller.  I find myself fascinated by the fact that children can be raised inside of apartments.  Growing up on a farm, one takes for granted that the outdoors is your playground – acres and acres of it!  I used to explore the ‘forest’ in our backyard, build snow forts out by the bins and catch tadpoles in the marsh.  I was free to ride my bike for miles or disappear for hours.  And I thought that was how the world worked.  Children roamed. 

But I have since learned that this is not always the case.  In truth, we are a small, privileged few.  We may not have grown up with swimming pools, corner stores and movie theaters just down the street, but we grew up with something few people have – space.  Space to run and stretch; space to hide from traffic noise and light pollution – to see hear silence and see stars.  Movement not limited to a sidewalk, play not determined by the availability of supervisors, and views not obstructed by skyscrapers.  To be able to swing your arms and hit no one and no thing isn’t something everyone can do in this world. 

I take nothing away from the city; in fact I enjoy a lot of what it affords.  The people-watching is incredible, the array of dining and entertainment options are only feasible because of its size.  The architecture of its buildings is beauty in and of itself.  But one thing I will never again take for granted is a place with space.  There is a finite amount of land on earth and when you get a lion’s share, soak it in!  For far too few people know the true value of having a great deal of space.

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At the end of the day, it's still just a sandwich

Do you know how to know if you've paid way to much for a sandwich?

Ask for half of it to go....if it comes back packaged in a reusable tupperware nestled in a designer brown bag - you've paid too much.


Seriously?!

Seriously.


But...I'm trendy now....with my designer sandwich.  AND I got free tupperware!



hahaha,
happy friday!

Time Change

The funny part about living in a different time zone, is that it took me one day to adjust to the vancouver morning time.  I had no problem waking up an hour later. 

But no matter how many months go by, I can never adjust to having my friday-after-work-beer an hour late...



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It's a sideWALK people, not a sideSAUNTER

I walk down the street and I wonder - why don't sidewalks have two lanes?

If you can visibly see the grass grow when you walk by - get out the way yo!!

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