Tuesday
A friend calls and asks me to join him for coffee. I go, we sit, we chat, he says that he knows I enjoy good food and wine (like, duh) and am I free Friday night. Yes, I answer. My friends who house my wine (he got the contents of his cellar in the divorce but has nowhere to keep it) are having a dinner Friday night, would you like to go. Sure, I say, sounds lovely. I didn't think anything of it. Until I got back to the office. Then I was all like "Is this a date?? and if it is indeed a date, how do I feel about it being a date? do I want it to be a date?" I called an emergency lunch with a girlfriend, explained what happened and she said "yup, it's a date; maybe" Well, great, now what? I had best prepare myself for a non-date-date, at another couple's house who knew him with his ex-wife. NO pressure there at all, nope, none.
Friday
Friend drove me home from work and said he would be back in 45 to pick me up for dinner. What the hell am I going to wear?? He said west-coast casual, but what does that mean? My mother brought me up better than to wear jeans somewhere I don't know the hosts, don't want to go overboard, but don't want to look like a slouch, either. Decide on a fun summer skirt, cardi-set and fab flip-flops (which I believe I have discussed in a past-post, to Jill's envy), which was, of course, the perfect outfit.
He arrived, got accosted by the mutts and passed their sniff test. Off we went.
This other couple were lovely and we had a great time --- great food, unbelievable wine (though a bit too much) and excellent conversation. The evening flowed with no awkward moments and all of a sudden it was 1 a.m. There was no discussion about driving; that was a foregone conclusion. And as we live in polar opposite directions from where we were at dinner, we called two cabs. So this would answer the question of: what if he goes in for the GN kiss?? Well, the first cab arrived, and he walked me to the curb, quick hug an a peck and off home I went.
I knew I wouldn't see or hear from him on the weekend as I was slammed busy and he had his (teenage) kids. Chatted Monday, thanked hm for a great evening, he met my sister (passed her sniff test too, I think. Paula??) and that was that. Still very ambiguous.
This dating or non-dating or whatever in your late 30's is not easy stuff.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
Decker
On occasion Maggie and I will have another dog to stay while its "parents" are away --- a great way to subsidize the Princess's expensive habits like regular walks with her dog walkers and her taste for organic raw diet. Decker, a "Puggle" (beagle/pug cross) is currently in residence.
I put the food in his dish to hydrate (he eats this special dehydrated organic stuff) before going on our walk last night and he actually stopped several times on the way down the road and looked back as if to say "hey, the food is back there, remember? cause you know the food is back there and we're going this way, away from the food and the food is back there, in case you forgot, seriously, the food is back there, man. Duuuude!!! the foood!!!! back there!!!!!!".
I assured him that his food would still be there when we got back, but he was definitely skeptical .... and then I made him walk for over 3 hours and I swear he was worried that we would never make it back to the food and when we finally did I puttered around the house for a good 15 minutes while the little Puggle kept watch on the mat just below where his dish was sitting.
His relief was almost palpable when I finally placed his dinner in front of him.
Have I mentioned how grateful I am that Princess Maggie is probably the only non-food-obsessed Golden Retriever known to man?
I put the food in his dish to hydrate (he eats this special dehydrated organic stuff) before going on our walk last night and he actually stopped several times on the way down the road and looked back as if to say "hey, the food is back there, remember? cause you know the food is back there and we're going this way, away from the food and the food is back there, in case you forgot, seriously, the food is back there, man. Duuuude!!! the foood!!!! back there!!!!!!".
I assured him that his food would still be there when we got back, but he was definitely skeptical .... and then I made him walk for over 3 hours and I swear he was worried that we would never make it back to the food and when we finally did I puttered around the house for a good 15 minutes while the little Puggle kept watch on the mat just below where his dish was sitting.
His relief was almost palpable when I finally placed his dinner in front of him.
Have I mentioned how grateful I am that Princess Maggie is probably the only non-food-obsessed Golden Retriever known to man?
Sunday, August 28, 2005
The CBC Strike - how does it affect me?
if they don't resolve this CBC strike thing soon, the only place I am going to be seeing this man is right here
DO SOMETHING!!!!
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Long time coming
I had a very interesting conversation today with the ex-wife of an ex-boyfriend. (This is the same ex-boyfriend, Jim, that I had the all-satisfying encounter with a few years back.) I am not going to go into all the sordid details of my relationship and subsequent breakup with him except to say that he was dating this woman before, during and after dating me. I would run into them as a couple every once in a while and we would all be very civil and but I was never exactly certain what was going on. Were they married? Expecting children? Did she hate me? Anyway, come that fateful encounter, it was clear that they were no longer together and that he was with this other woman, though he never came out and said that to me. After that I would run into him every once in a while walking the dogs, on his way home from work, (his parents, where he was living, live quite close to me), etc. The last time I saw him, ironically on my birthday this year and he actually wished me a happy birthday which he never remembered when we were together, he told me that he had bought a new house on Bowen Island and was moving in a few weeks. I congratulated him on his new home and we parted ways. I haven't seen him since.
Yesterday I was out with some girlfriends browsing through the shops and his ex-wife was working at one of them. We said hello and started chatting. She asked if I knew that Bandit (his dog and one of the best things about him) had died. I told her that yes, he had told me that and I recounted my meeting with him at Whitespot. So she said that I knew that they had divorced. I told her that actually, I was never even really certain hat they had gotten married, but assumed so and that she had gotten the condo in the divorce. She did, much to his mother's dismay. After they split, her best girlfriend basically stopped calling. Someone told her that there was a rumour that she and Jim were dating. She called him and he denied it. it was the same woman I had seen him with that first time and guess what? They got married two weeks ago!! We laughed about this and both felt kind of sorry for this woman because it seems that he has not changed one iota since I dated him over 10 years ago. Wardrobe still consists mainly of cycling gear and it is like pulling teeth to get him to put "real" clothes on. And when he does you almost wish for the cycling clothes ---- flannel shirts, bad jeans, cowboy boots, etc. Real redneck gear. And forget ever leaving the North Shore, let alone travelling anywhere. Small-minded ignoramus is this boy's middle name.
Her co-worker was thoroughly enjoying out conversation as she has gone through the whole breakup and divorce with her and so knows all the "inside scoop", my role included. We caught up on how our own lives were going and on how much better off we are without him dragging us down and that we have actually progressed and become successful adults while he is still a Momma's boy. We hugged goodbye with a promise to get together for cocktails, soon -- two women who were played against each other for a number of years and now may form a great friendship.
Yesterday I was out with some girlfriends browsing through the shops and his ex-wife was working at one of them. We said hello and started chatting. She asked if I knew that Bandit (his dog and one of the best things about him) had died. I told her that yes, he had told me that and I recounted my meeting with him at Whitespot. So she said that I knew that they had divorced. I told her that actually, I was never even really certain hat they had gotten married, but assumed so and that she had gotten the condo in the divorce. She did, much to his mother's dismay. After they split, her best girlfriend basically stopped calling. Someone told her that there was a rumour that she and Jim were dating. She called him and he denied it. it was the same woman I had seen him with that first time and guess what? They got married two weeks ago!! We laughed about this and both felt kind of sorry for this woman because it seems that he has not changed one iota since I dated him over 10 years ago. Wardrobe still consists mainly of cycling gear and it is like pulling teeth to get him to put "real" clothes on. And when he does you almost wish for the cycling clothes ---- flannel shirts, bad jeans, cowboy boots, etc. Real redneck gear. And forget ever leaving the North Shore, let alone travelling anywhere. Small-minded ignoramus is this boy's middle name.
Her co-worker was thoroughly enjoying out conversation as she has gone through the whole breakup and divorce with her and so knows all the "inside scoop", my role included. We caught up on how our own lives were going and on how much better off we are without him dragging us down and that we have actually progressed and become successful adults while he is still a Momma's boy. We hugged goodbye with a promise to get together for cocktails, soon -- two women who were played against each other for a number of years and now may form a great friendship.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Creeping me out
We are in the midst of renovations/moving/general chaos at the office and one of the movers looks uncannilly like some sort of mutant cross between the Big Boy mascot and an old fashioned Cupie doll.
He is seriously creeping me out.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
The Boss
Because I was not feeling great I opted not to go out Friday night and instead stayed home in my jammies with the mutt and watched Friday night television (which sucks, by the way). While channel surfing through the crud, however, I did catch some of the Detroit Public Television broadcast of a Bruce Springsteen concert from NYC. And it was GREAT!
My parents gave me my first record player when I was about 2 years old and it was my very favourite toy ever. I carried it with me everywhere and took really good care of all my records --- carefully putting them back in the plastic sleeves before putting them in their cardboard ones, making sure the needle didn't scratch, etc. (if you are reading this and were born post 1980, go ask your parents what I am talking about)
This rather anal behaviour carried over to my teen years, though my stereo equipment improved rather significantly. I had amassed a rather large collection of vinyl by the time I was 18 and all records were kept in milk crates, in alphabetical, chronological order and I was more than aware when someone had disturbed them. In late 1986 Bruce Springsteen came out with his "Boxed Set" --- 5 albums of his greatest hits (this unfortunately started a trend of boxed sets in the music industry, but Springsteen's was the first and I think the best). Anyway, shortly before Christmas I bought the boxed set for myself, at the astronomical price of around $50.00.
It was the night of the Bal de Neiges (The Snow Ball), a Montreal traditional family ball to benefit the Montreal Association for the Blind. Of course we were going "en famille" and of course us three girls were running late l(uckily my parents always had a thing about bathrooms, so we each had our own and didn't have to fight for space). When I came out of the shower I could hear strains of Mr. Springsteen coming from below. Now I had not even cracked the seal on this album and I was (still am) a little funny about people listening to my records before I do (holds true with books, magazines and newspapers, you have been warned). I threw on my robe and ran down the stairs, fully prepared to tear a strip off of my sister, the obvious culprit, and maybe even cause her bodily harm.
It wasn't my sister.
I got down to the foyer and looked around the corner into the livingroom and there was my dad, dressed and ready to go in his tuxedo, little half-moon glasses on the end of his nose, boring legal brief on his lap, tapping his pencil in time to "Rosilita". He looked up and saw me and said:
"Katie, isn't the Boss great?" (Seriously, he is the only man alive that is actually allowed to refer to Bruce Springsteen as "The Boss" and not get smacked upside the head. )
Way to take the anger wind out of my sails, dad.
My mum bought a cd player for my dad for Christmas that year, and this back in the day when you had to pretty much take out a 3rd mortgage on the house to do so, and so I bought him his first cd --- "The River".
My mum's youngest brother, my Uncle Pete, now has all of my albums. Seeing as how I have left them in my parents' attic for 15 years or so and seeing as how he actually has an amazing turntable, he deserves them. And his daughters, a good 20 years younger than me, love the fact that they now have "vintage" Madonna, Sex Pistols, Violent Femmes and the Pretty in Pink soundtrack, not to mention my complete collection of The Who and all my import 45's. I was visiting him and his family last Christmas and we put Springsteen's boxed set on --- his live version of "Fire" still gives me chills.
My parents gave me my first record player when I was about 2 years old and it was my very favourite toy ever. I carried it with me everywhere and took really good care of all my records --- carefully putting them back in the plastic sleeves before putting them in their cardboard ones, making sure the needle didn't scratch, etc. (if you are reading this and were born post 1980, go ask your parents what I am talking about)
This rather anal behaviour carried over to my teen years, though my stereo equipment improved rather significantly. I had amassed a rather large collection of vinyl by the time I was 18 and all records were kept in milk crates, in alphabetical, chronological order and I was more than aware when someone had disturbed them. In late 1986 Bruce Springsteen came out with his "Boxed Set" --- 5 albums of his greatest hits (this unfortunately started a trend of boxed sets in the music industry, but Springsteen's was the first and I think the best). Anyway, shortly before Christmas I bought the boxed set for myself, at the astronomical price of around $50.00.
It was the night of the Bal de Neiges (The Snow Ball), a Montreal traditional family ball to benefit the Montreal Association for the Blind. Of course we were going "en famille" and of course us three girls were running late l(uckily my parents always had a thing about bathrooms, so we each had our own and didn't have to fight for space). When I came out of the shower I could hear strains of Mr. Springsteen coming from below. Now I had not even cracked the seal on this album and I was (still am) a little funny about people listening to my records before I do (holds true with books, magazines and newspapers, you have been warned). I threw on my robe and ran down the stairs, fully prepared to tear a strip off of my sister, the obvious culprit, and maybe even cause her bodily harm.
It wasn't my sister.
I got down to the foyer and looked around the corner into the livingroom and there was my dad, dressed and ready to go in his tuxedo, little half-moon glasses on the end of his nose, boring legal brief on his lap, tapping his pencil in time to "Rosilita". He looked up and saw me and said:
"Katie, isn't the Boss great?" (Seriously, he is the only man alive that is actually allowed to refer to Bruce Springsteen as "The Boss" and not get smacked upside the head. )
Way to take the anger wind out of my sails, dad.
My mum bought a cd player for my dad for Christmas that year, and this back in the day when you had to pretty much take out a 3rd mortgage on the house to do so, and so I bought him his first cd --- "The River".
My mum's youngest brother, my Uncle Pete, now has all of my albums. Seeing as how I have left them in my parents' attic for 15 years or so and seeing as how he actually has an amazing turntable, he deserves them. And his daughters, a good 20 years younger than me, love the fact that they now have "vintage" Madonna, Sex Pistols, Violent Femmes and the Pretty in Pink soundtrack, not to mention my complete collection of The Who and all my import 45's. I was visiting him and his family last Christmas and we put Springsteen's boxed set on --- his live version of "Fire" still gives me chills.
Monday, August 22, 2005
don't you hate it when
you think you looked really good and then you see a photograph of yourself and you just didn't?
way to bum a high ....
way to bum a high ....
Sunday, August 21, 2005
how to so not impress me
Use me, who you have just met, to make your ex-girlfriend, who is one of the bridesmaids at the wedding we are both at, jealous.
'nuff said.
'nuff said.
Delivering the news
In the neighbourhood where I grew up one of the most coveted jobs was that of "paper boy". J. McC had it pretty much tied up for a number of years and he was the shit. I mean all the girls had crushes on him and people were lined up to take his place when he moved on. I really, really wanted to be the "anointed one", but that honour went to A. P., a true-blue geek from up the street. I did, however, get the chance to take the route over for 6 weeks one summer. All illusions were shattered. My dad's tales of delivering the paper sounded so romantic and Jamie had cultivated such a cool image with his punch cards when he came to collect each week that I thought this was going to be the Best. Job. Ever. WRONG ---- it sucked!!!!!!! I had to get up at 5 Monday to Saturday, collect the papers from the corner, insert all the bloody flyers and then fold the stupid papers for delivery. Then walk around the neighbourhood making sure that I put this paper under the third mat to the left, and that paper inside the screen door, etc., etc., etc. And because it was summer, lots of people were away and so I had to keep track of that and that also meant that any tips I might get for doing the deliveries went way down. I think that I made maybe $100 in the 6-week period. So not worth it.
Fast forward 2 years. I am home for the first time since going away to boarding school; it is Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, which is Columbus Day down south. When I get in the house on Friday night my mum is all "guess what? Alexander had to go away for the weekend so I told him that you would be thrilled to deliver the Saturday papers!" Was she on crack????? I gave my mum a look that only 14-year-old girls can give their mothers and refused. I was holiday, dammit!! Didn't she realize that I had been away from home for almost 2 months, toiling away at school and needed a break? Jeez!!!! What to do, what to do. "No problem," said my dad "Susie, we'll deliver them. It will be just like when I was in school ..."
[You see, my dad had delivered the Montreal Gazette throughout his high school, university and maybe even law school careers. It was his fault that I thought it would be such a great gig. My mum was skeptical, but she was the one who promised delivery coverage, so …]
The rest of this story is second hand because I was sleeping while it happened.
Saturday morning arrived and my parents got up with the birds and headed out on their paper route. Now my mum is not what one would call a "morning person" so the thought of her out there, pulling a wagon laden with extra large Saturday papers is quite funny. And my dad? Well he lives for mornings so he was literally whistling a happy tune and being all nostalgic and goofy as he tossed those bad boys on to people's front stoops (no under the mat or between the doors for him). All was going pretty smoothly until they got to the last stretch of houses. As my dad was coming up the walkway of this particular house he looked up and saw someone else sneaking down the walkway. They both stopped, looked at each other and time pretty much stood still. You see, the person sneaking out of this particular house was not the husband of the woman who lived in this house. In fact, he was the husband of a woman who lived about 10 blocks away and the husband who belonged at this particular house was out of town. BUSTED!!!!
"Bob (not real name), life's tough all over. You've just gotta do what you gotta do" and he continued delivering papers. Nothing was ever said, but there were a couple of divorces over the next year or so.
We still laugh about this (not the divorce part, but the getting busted part cause come on, it’s funny) and my dad's thoughts are along the lines of what was more shocking: successful shit-hot senior partner corporate lawyer dude caught delivering the paper with his wife (it was the early 80's and we were in the middle of a rather brutal recession) or successful shit-hot senior partner lawyer dude being caught with his pants down?
Fast forward 2 years. I am home for the first time since going away to boarding school; it is Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, which is Columbus Day down south. When I get in the house on Friday night my mum is all "guess what? Alexander had to go away for the weekend so I told him that you would be thrilled to deliver the Saturday papers!" Was she on crack????? I gave my mum a look that only 14-year-old girls can give their mothers and refused. I was holiday, dammit!! Didn't she realize that I had been away from home for almost 2 months, toiling away at school and needed a break? Jeez!!!! What to do, what to do. "No problem," said my dad "Susie, we'll deliver them. It will be just like when I was in school ..."
[You see, my dad had delivered the Montreal Gazette throughout his high school, university and maybe even law school careers. It was his fault that I thought it would be such a great gig. My mum was skeptical, but she was the one who promised delivery coverage, so …]
The rest of this story is second hand because I was sleeping while it happened.
Saturday morning arrived and my parents got up with the birds and headed out on their paper route. Now my mum is not what one would call a "morning person" so the thought of her out there, pulling a wagon laden with extra large Saturday papers is quite funny. And my dad? Well he lives for mornings so he was literally whistling a happy tune and being all nostalgic and goofy as he tossed those bad boys on to people's front stoops (no under the mat or between the doors for him). All was going pretty smoothly until they got to the last stretch of houses. As my dad was coming up the walkway of this particular house he looked up and saw someone else sneaking down the walkway. They both stopped, looked at each other and time pretty much stood still. You see, the person sneaking out of this particular house was not the husband of the woman who lived in this house. In fact, he was the husband of a woman who lived about 10 blocks away and the husband who belonged at this particular house was out of town. BUSTED!!!!
"Bob (not real name), life's tough all over. You've just gotta do what you gotta do" and he continued delivering papers. Nothing was ever said, but there were a couple of divorces over the next year or so.
We still laugh about this (not the divorce part, but the getting busted part cause come on, it’s funny) and my dad's thoughts are along the lines of what was more shocking: successful shit-hot senior partner corporate lawyer dude caught delivering the paper with his wife (it was the early 80's and we were in the middle of a rather brutal recession) or successful shit-hot senior partner lawyer dude being caught with his pants down?
Friday, August 19, 2005
this & that
I inadvertently taped an Oprah episode this week (here is where I confess to my closet Days of Our Lives addiction and I tape an episode or two a week just to keep my finger on the pulse of Salem) and so watched Oprah interview Maria Shriver and her mum, Ethel Kennedy Shriver. Maria is not aging well - she is far too thin and looks, quite frankly, odd. And both she and her younger daughter use the word "like" far too much. Ethel appears to be physically aging better than her daughter, but I do believe that the woman should not be interviewed on "live" television. I am sure she is a great lady and I know she has done amazing things for people, the Special Olympics for example. And I am also certain that she is a great mother and raised fabulous children. However, she was having a hard time keeping on topic and answering the questions Oprah was putting to her and just kept talking about growing up with John, Bobby & Teddy. Let the woman have her dignity, please. She has earned it. However, what I did learn in this interview and loved was that Arnold is obsessed with his children doing their chores and not becoming "spoiled Hollywood brats". Also, it appeared that both he and Maria take an active role in the kids' lives and actually make sure that they are being properly supervised when at friends' homes, i.e. that there is an adult present, and that they are quite strict and enforce rules, curfews and punishments, like giving away any clothes the children are too lazy to put away. Don't know why, but hearing those stories made me smile.
Over at Nickerblog Shane was pontificating on the benefits of being the "guy next door" as opposed to the hunky model OC type. It got me to thinking about all the beautiful people in my life, and there are quite a few (not including myself in that category nor asking for the rush of an ego boost, just stating a fact). It seems to me that if you are born physically beautiful you don't really have to make much of an effort in other areas of your life --- like smarts or personality. That's not to say that all beautiful people are dumb or, to quote to ever-quotable MM, have the personalities of deck chairs. However, this is often the case and it is not necessarily their fault. Beauty fades, smarts and personality generally don't. And haven't we all experienced the phenomenon of meeting someone who is drop dead gorgeous and then when you get to know them they become less and less attractive? And the opposite when you meet someone who may not have walked off the pages of GQ or Vogue, but the more you get to know them the more irresistible they are?
To finish, I am feeling very sorry for myself at the moment. I was quite sick last week with a terrible summer cold/sore throat thing which I blamed on the air-conditioning in the office building. I kept myself doped up on Tylenol Cold for most of the week and was feeling pretty good about life (Tylenol Cold and Champagne is a particularly good combination, by the way). I have been "drug free" for 4 days (I sound like a heroin addict, don't I) and last night I woke up with the sore throat all over again and today had chills and was all stuffy and feel bloody miserable. The sucky thing about living on your own is that you still have to do everything, like feed the dog, walk the dog, buy your own ginger ale and make your own grilled cheese sandwich and there is no one around to listen to you whine (that’s for whoever is the poor unfortunate soul reading this's task) or bring you a cold cloth for the back of your neck. And I have to get myself downtown for a 10:00 a.m. pedicure that I can't cancel because I would still have to pay for it and home again in time to get ready and be picked up at 3 for a friend's wedding. I told you I was whining. But I did buy an absolutely fabulous dress --- black and white dishcloth pattern linen and silk halter neck with bias cut a-line skirt tea length --- and that made me happy.
Happy Friday!
Over at Nickerblog Shane was pontificating on the benefits of being the "guy next door" as opposed to the hunky model OC type. It got me to thinking about all the beautiful people in my life, and there are quite a few (not including myself in that category nor asking for the rush of an ego boost, just stating a fact). It seems to me that if you are born physically beautiful you don't really have to make much of an effort in other areas of your life --- like smarts or personality. That's not to say that all beautiful people are dumb or, to quote to ever-quotable MM, have the personalities of deck chairs. However, this is often the case and it is not necessarily their fault. Beauty fades, smarts and personality generally don't. And haven't we all experienced the phenomenon of meeting someone who is drop dead gorgeous and then when you get to know them they become less and less attractive? And the opposite when you meet someone who may not have walked off the pages of GQ or Vogue, but the more you get to know them the more irresistible they are?
To finish, I am feeling very sorry for myself at the moment. I was quite sick last week with a terrible summer cold/sore throat thing which I blamed on the air-conditioning in the office building. I kept myself doped up on Tylenol Cold for most of the week and was feeling pretty good about life (Tylenol Cold and Champagne is a particularly good combination, by the way). I have been "drug free" for 4 days (I sound like a heroin addict, don't I) and last night I woke up with the sore throat all over again and today had chills and was all stuffy and feel bloody miserable. The sucky thing about living on your own is that you still have to do everything, like feed the dog, walk the dog, buy your own ginger ale and make your own grilled cheese sandwich and there is no one around to listen to you whine (that’s for whoever is the poor unfortunate soul reading this's task) or bring you a cold cloth for the back of your neck. And I have to get myself downtown for a 10:00 a.m. pedicure that I can't cancel because I would still have to pay for it and home again in time to get ready and be picked up at 3 for a friend's wedding. I told you I was whining. But I did buy an absolutely fabulous dress --- black and white dishcloth pattern linen and silk halter neck with bias cut a-line skirt tea length --- and that made me happy.
Happy Friday!
Thursday, August 18, 2005
The Really Big Cook Off
Rachael over at Fresh Approach Cooking, my favourite "foodie blog" came up with this idea and so last night I got together with a couple of girlfriends and made the assigned dish - Jamie Oliver's Asparagus and Potato Ravioli with Mint. As the Cook Off is open to people all over the world and not everyone has all the ingredients readily available to them, Rachael made a few adjustments to the recipe. However, living in Vancouver and therefore having easy access to pretty much everything, I went with the recipe as originally intended. Oddly enough the only "ingredients" that I had trouble procuring were the won ton wrappers. We tried 4 large supermarkets and nada, so we went with fresh lasagna noodles, which worked just fine. At risk of sounding like I am tooting my own horn, the end result was delicious and definitely something I would make again. Not too complicated and surprisingly light. Thanks Jennifer and Niccola for helping (and eating)! I am very much looking forward to the next round ....
Monday, August 15, 2005
Zamboni DUI
Only my oldest and dearest friends are aware of what they describe as my "blue collar fantasies" --- my desire to drive a zamboni, preferably at the Forum (which doesn't exist anymore, so that point is somewhat moot) and to pump gas, but only at a gas station where the attendants wear those cool cover-alls, for a living. Anyway, my friend Andrea was at the party Saturday night (a wonderful surprise) and in her evening bag she had this article cut out and ready to hand to me for our mutual amusement. For full effect read it out loud with a heavy French Canadian "haccent".Now you would think that this would be an isolated incedent. It's not. I did a quick "google" on the subject this morning and found this, this, and this. Who knew??
Oh, and I have actually ridden on a zamboni at the historic Montreal Forum, but I wasn't allowed to drive it. Apparently you need a special license for that.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Insecurity sets in
I am sitting here at the computer, rollers in my hair, having a mild panic attack. You see I am going to a dear friend's 40th birthday party tonight (Kathryn's traditional 40th birthday gift of a UB40 cd already wrapped and ready to go) and I am suddenly feeling completely inadequate. My friend and her husband are lovely, lovely people, it's just that they are in a completely different (read much, much higher) economic bracket than me, as are most of their other friends (my sister not included). I help pay someone else's mortgage by living in their basement, while my frineds don't even have a mortgage and live in the ritziest part of town, right on the water.
The printed invites say dress: something fabulous. I don't own anything fabulous. Okay, so I have fabulous shoes, but that's where it ends. No fabulous dress, no fabulous jewels, no fabulous hairstylist, and last of all, no fabulous man on my arm. At least my sister has the wonderful Marcus to walk in with. And my friend's parents will be there from Knowlton, which is great and I am looking forward to seeing them, but they will report directly back to my parents upon their return to Knowlton.
Oh well, not much I can do about it right now. My best plan of attack at the moment is to go out to the backyard and try to get the multiple tan lines at least a little blended and enjoy an icy cold beverage while Maggie terrorizes Fluffy the hampster in its little ball.
The printed invites say dress: something fabulous. I don't own anything fabulous. Okay, so I have fabulous shoes, but that's where it ends. No fabulous dress, no fabulous jewels, no fabulous hairstylist, and last of all, no fabulous man on my arm. At least my sister has the wonderful Marcus to walk in with. And my friend's parents will be there from Knowlton, which is great and I am looking forward to seeing them, but they will report directly back to my parents upon their return to Knowlton.
Oh well, not much I can do about it right now. My best plan of attack at the moment is to go out to the backyard and try to get the multiple tan lines at least a little blended and enjoy an icy cold beverage while Maggie terrorizes Fluffy the hampster in its little ball.
Rockin' Friday Night!!!
What do single, fun and attractive women do in your town on a Friday night? In ours we CAN PEACHES!!!
After driving all the way to Osoyoos last week in search of the perfect peach (and not a few bottles of wine), tonight we processd them. And damn fine looking peaches they are, too.
However, we under estimated how many peaches we had so we have now run out of jars. And seeing as how WalMart is not 24/7 here in North Vancouver, we have to wait until morning to finish.
so now we drink wine ....
After driving all the way to Osoyoos last week in search of the perfect peach (and not a few bottles of wine), tonight we processd them. And damn fine looking peaches they are, too.
However, we under estimated how many peaches we had so we have now run out of jars. And seeing as how WalMart is not 24/7 here in North Vancouver, we have to wait until morning to finish.
so now we drink wine ....
Friday, August 12, 2005
Random stuff I've seen this week
The other day I saw some chick (I am a girl, I can use that term) riding one of those super-trendy cruiser bikes, against traffic, downtown, no helmet, smoking a cigarette and talking on her cell phone. Got back to the office and looked up the word "IDIOT", syn "DUMBASS" in the good old Oxford and sure enough, there was her picture. I don't want a cruiser bike anymore.
Wednesday afternoon one of the boys I work with called me in to his office to see what was going on below --- girl and guy sitting on a bench in the courtyard, girl giving guy a handjob, guy "covering" himself with his t-shirt (not very well). In broad daylight. Funny thing was, no one seemed to notice what was going on. How much did I wish at that moment that the windows in our building opened so that I could chuck something at their heads???
Sequins are for nighttime. N.I.G.H.T.T.I.M.E. Got it?
1980 something K-Car with mag wheels. Someone is taking Pimp-My-Ride a little too seriously.
Wearing all trends at the same time does not say "I'm hip". Trust me, you're NOT.
A woman was walking down Robson Street wearing quite simply the most fabulous hat I have ever seen outside of Acsot. I think she was confused as to what city she was in (and I mean that in the nicest of ways).
3 foreign students pushed an older woman out of the way to get off the bus Thursday morning. GO HOME!!!
We met Guinness and Panda --- 2 3-month-old Newfie puppies. They are as big as Maggie!!! They move to Sun Peaks next week.
Far too many bandaids on the backs of heels while wearing slingbacks.
A 1957 red t-bird convertible parked outside our building. I so wanted to wait and see whose it was and then ask for a ride. God damn my job anyway!! =)
Was woken up last night by a massive cat fight outside. when I went to the back yard this morning to deal with sprinkler and watering stuff, there was enough fur back there to make another cat. I hope everyone is okay. Oh, and Maggie did not wake up during the cat fight.
Happy Friday!!!!
Wednesday afternoon one of the boys I work with called me in to his office to see what was going on below --- girl and guy sitting on a bench in the courtyard, girl giving guy a handjob, guy "covering" himself with his t-shirt (not very well). In broad daylight. Funny thing was, no one seemed to notice what was going on. How much did I wish at that moment that the windows in our building opened so that I could chuck something at their heads???
Sequins are for nighttime. N.I.G.H.T.T.I.M.E. Got it?
1980 something K-Car with mag wheels. Someone is taking Pimp-My-Ride a little too seriously.
Wearing all trends at the same time does not say "I'm hip". Trust me, you're NOT.
A woman was walking down Robson Street wearing quite simply the most fabulous hat I have ever seen outside of Acsot. I think she was confused as to what city she was in (and I mean that in the nicest of ways).
3 foreign students pushed an older woman out of the way to get off the bus Thursday morning. GO HOME!!!
We met Guinness and Panda --- 2 3-month-old Newfie puppies. They are as big as Maggie!!! They move to Sun Peaks next week.
Far too many bandaids on the backs of heels while wearing slingbacks.
A 1957 red t-bird convertible parked outside our building. I so wanted to wait and see whose it was and then ask for a ride. God damn my job anyway!! =)
Was woken up last night by a massive cat fight outside. when I went to the back yard this morning to deal with sprinkler and watering stuff, there was enough fur back there to make another cat. I hope everyone is okay. Oh, and Maggie did not wake up during the cat fight.
Happy Friday!!!!
Monday, August 08, 2005
My outside voice wins again
My inside voice has a tendency to become my outside voice, which generally results in my being embarrassed and others being amused.
Today, for example, as I was walking down through Yaletown en route to the seawall on my lunch break, I saw a remarkably well dressed and handsome man walking towards me. Now this is most definitely not an everyday occurrence in Vancouver; far from it, in fact. “Wow,” I thought to myself, “what a handsome man”. “Thank you”, came the reply with a smile, “you just made my day.”
Seems my inner thought had vocalized itself. This calling a strange man handsome to his face has happened to me once before, at the 2003 Calgary Stampede to be precise, but that was under the influence of maybe 8 Mike’s Hard Cranberries consumed in close succession. There was just cause for the inside voice to come out and play. I had no such excuse today.
At least I made someone’s day.
Oh, and the fact that I got ID’d and refused service at Quail’s Gate over the weekend? That little gem is causing no end of amusement around the office.
My 36 hour Holiday
Well, I'm back. And it was FANTASTIC!!!! I got home about an hour ago and can't sleep, so here I am at the computer. I am really going to be hating myself for this tomorrow morning when I am dragging my sorry ass into the office .....
Anyway, we had a fabulous time and packed A LOT into a very short amount of time. When we finally arrived in Kelowna we discovered that our idea of being spontaneous and whimsical (read, let's not make a hotel reservation and just find a place when we get there) was not such a brilliant plan. There was one room available, a queen murphy bed in a room with no window which could be ours for the bargain basement price of $360.00 PER NIGHT! I don't think so. We made it to The Accent Inn where Kevin and Terry called pretty much every hotel in a 4 city radius for us, to no avail, and just as we were about to head all the way to Vernon in hopes of finding somthing, someone called to cancel so we got their room. Horseshoes, my friends, horseshoes.
With a place to stay now secured, we made a quick change out of our driving clothes and headed into town for dinner and some liquid refreshment. Now, it was hot. I mean really, really hot. Like 36 degrees hot. I like the heat, but I am also used to Vancouver and living by the ocean where there is always a cool breeze and the evenings, even at the peak of summer, generally require that you wear a light jacket. Not so out there in the desert, so I had to make a quick wardrobe adjustment. My jeans were just going to be too bloody hot and my only alternative was to fashion a skirt out of my sarong. This worked great, when I was standing still in the hotel room. Suffice to say that I did a lot of "creative walking" and probably exposed a tad more of myself than originally intended to the good folks of Kelowna. My travelling companion Jennifer was promtly fired as my "preventer of wardrobe malfunctions". She did, however, resist the urge to point and laugh at me as I pretty much threw myself against the outside wall of the pub we were entering when I realized that my skirt was nowhere near where it was supposed to be. For this I thank her.
My impression of the Kelowna "scene"? Too much testosterone and high-powered water sports equipment in one small space. Lots of men who wished they were 2 inches taller and were named "Brad" (who wears a visor and sunglasses at 11 at night?). Lots of butt slapping and "booyahs!" all 'round.
Today was winery day and we hit 6 in as many hours. Mission Hill was the most spectacular and you definitely get a lot of bang for your buck: $15.00 gets you the full tour, 5 tastes and the $14.95 crystal wine glass that you use at the tasting. Our favourite "experience" though was at Dirty Laundry --- a husband and wife team that actually welcome you into their home for tastings and education. They have a fabulous shaded patio overlooking their vineyard where they encourage you to bring a picnic and sip their wine. The story behind the name (briefly) - the first Chinese Laundry opened in Summerland was by a very enterprising man who ran a (very lucrative) brothel above his laundry. Hence "Dirty Laundry". And their wine was yummy, too. (not to mention an absolutely gorgeous label/logo)
Funny moment: Quail's Gate refused to serve me as I had forgotten my ID at home. I mean come on -- I am 37 years old. Thanks for the compliment, but seriously, I don't look at least 25??????? So that tasting became a spectator sport for me. They wouldn't even give me a Callebaut Chocolate Ice Wine Tasting Cup sans wine as a consolation prize. Bastards.
We also went to Straw Hill (their Tapestry is outstanding), House of Rose and we tried to get to Burrowing Owl but it was closed. I was there 2 years ago and it is definitely worth the trip.
Oh, yeah, and I did actually remember to buy the peaches for canning which was the original purpose of my trip. I'll get to that task later in the week.
One more funny/odd thing: as we were driving out of Osoyoos last night, we passed what I can only assume was a sheep farm owned by new immigrants with a culture/language barrier because hanging from their sign were three blow-up sheep/goat things usual only seen at stag parties and the like. Or maybe it was some sort of niche-market sex toy shop. Given the location, it just seemed odd.
* When I got home last night and opened the fridge to put the peaches in, there was a note on the top shelf: "Stole your hummous" from my sister. That was my lunch for this week (or an important component thereto, anyway)!! well, I guess she did look after the princess for the weekend ......
Anyway, we had a fabulous time and packed A LOT into a very short amount of time. When we finally arrived in Kelowna we discovered that our idea of being spontaneous and whimsical (read, let's not make a hotel reservation and just find a place when we get there) was not such a brilliant plan. There was one room available, a queen murphy bed in a room with no window which could be ours for the bargain basement price of $360.00 PER NIGHT! I don't think so. We made it to The Accent Inn where Kevin and Terry called pretty much every hotel in a 4 city radius for us, to no avail, and just as we were about to head all the way to Vernon in hopes of finding somthing, someone called to cancel so we got their room. Horseshoes, my friends, horseshoes.
With a place to stay now secured, we made a quick change out of our driving clothes and headed into town for dinner and some liquid refreshment. Now, it was hot. I mean really, really hot. Like 36 degrees hot. I like the heat, but I am also used to Vancouver and living by the ocean where there is always a cool breeze and the evenings, even at the peak of summer, generally require that you wear a light jacket. Not so out there in the desert, so I had to make a quick wardrobe adjustment. My jeans were just going to be too bloody hot and my only alternative was to fashion a skirt out of my sarong. This worked great, when I was standing still in the hotel room. Suffice to say that I did a lot of "creative walking" and probably exposed a tad more of myself than originally intended to the good folks of Kelowna. My travelling companion Jennifer was promtly fired as my "preventer of wardrobe malfunctions". She did, however, resist the urge to point and laugh at me as I pretty much threw myself against the outside wall of the pub we were entering when I realized that my skirt was nowhere near where it was supposed to be. For this I thank her.
My impression of the Kelowna "scene"? Too much testosterone and high-powered water sports equipment in one small space. Lots of men who wished they were 2 inches taller and were named "Brad" (who wears a visor and sunglasses at 11 at night?). Lots of butt slapping and "booyahs!" all 'round.
Today was winery day and we hit 6 in as many hours. Mission Hill was the most spectacular and you definitely get a lot of bang for your buck: $15.00 gets you the full tour, 5 tastes and the $14.95 crystal wine glass that you use at the tasting. Our favourite "experience" though was at Dirty Laundry --- a husband and wife team that actually welcome you into their home for tastings and education. They have a fabulous shaded patio overlooking their vineyard where they encourage you to bring a picnic and sip their wine. The story behind the name (briefly) - the first Chinese Laundry opened in Summerland was by a very enterprising man who ran a (very lucrative) brothel above his laundry. Hence "Dirty Laundry". And their wine was yummy, too. (not to mention an absolutely gorgeous label/logo)
Funny moment: Quail's Gate refused to serve me as I had forgotten my ID at home. I mean come on -- I am 37 years old. Thanks for the compliment, but seriously, I don't look at least 25??????? So that tasting became a spectator sport for me. They wouldn't even give me a Callebaut Chocolate Ice Wine Tasting Cup sans wine as a consolation prize. Bastards.
We also went to Straw Hill (their Tapestry is outstanding), House of Rose and we tried to get to Burrowing Owl but it was closed. I was there 2 years ago and it is definitely worth the trip.
Oh, yeah, and I did actually remember to buy the peaches for canning which was the original purpose of my trip. I'll get to that task later in the week.
One more funny/odd thing: as we were driving out of Osoyoos last night, we passed what I can only assume was a sheep farm owned by new immigrants with a culture/language barrier because hanging from their sign were three blow-up sheep/goat things usual only seen at stag parties and the like. Or maybe it was some sort of niche-market sex toy shop. Given the location, it just seemed odd.
* When I got home last night and opened the fridge to put the peaches in, there was a note on the top shelf: "Stole your hummous" from my sister. That was my lunch for this week (or an important component thereto, anyway)!! well, I guess she did look after the princess for the weekend ......
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Revenge of the hairy spiders
My bags are packed and I'm ready to go (the taxi's waiting outside the door, I hate to wake you up to say goodbye) [sorry, don't know what came over me there, but the words just seemed to type themselves] anyway, while I wait for my ride I will share this with you:
I rarely, if ever, remember my dreams, but last night's was plain odd. I dreamed that I was sitting in a backyard with a bunch of people that I knew (but didn't really know, except for in that dream) and Maggie was with me and so were a lot of other dogs and they were all running around having a great time together and then this other animal appeared in the yard (which was actually sand surrounded by choir-roster-like stacked levels of grass that we were all sitting on) and this other animal appeared to be a cross between a weasle, a muskrat, a fox and a groundhog. Anyway, it was running around the yard, burrowing in the sand and grass, the dogs were chasing it and you could see the progress of this animal as it was burrowing. It was a very action-packed sequence. And then I noticed that this animal had disturbed a bees' nest or wasps' nest that was in gthe sand in the middle of the yard and the nest was now spitting out wasps/bees in the manner of an automatic tennis ball shooter thing and no one beleived me and then I got stung a few times, but slowly as the bees/wasps weren't swarming, they were coming out one by one. I could actually feel the darn things stinging me.
When I woke up this morning, my thumb joint was all itchy and I realized that it is covered in bits. Yikes!!!! I haven't seen a mosquito all summer in my house so it can only mean one thing:
I rarely, if ever, remember my dreams, but last night's was plain odd. I dreamed that I was sitting in a backyard with a bunch of people that I knew (but didn't really know, except for in that dream) and Maggie was with me and so were a lot of other dogs and they were all running around having a great time together and then this other animal appeared in the yard (which was actually sand surrounded by choir-roster-like stacked levels of grass that we were all sitting on) and this other animal appeared to be a cross between a weasle, a muskrat, a fox and a groundhog. Anyway, it was running around the yard, burrowing in the sand and grass, the dogs were chasing it and you could see the progress of this animal as it was burrowing. It was a very action-packed sequence. And then I noticed that this animal had disturbed a bees' nest or wasps' nest that was in gthe sand in the middle of the yard and the nest was now spitting out wasps/bees in the manner of an automatic tennis ball shooter thing and no one beleived me and then I got stung a few times, but slowly as the bees/wasps weren't swarming, they were coming out one by one. I could actually feel the darn things stinging me.
When I woke up this morning, my thumb joint was all itchy and I realized that it is covered in bits. Yikes!!!! I haven't seen a mosquito all summer in my house so it can only mean one thing:
I WAS BITTEN REPEATEDLY BY A BIG-ASS HAIRY SPIDER LAST NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ok, off to my 36 hour holiday now ....
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Of Wine, Water and Dogs
These are the lunatices who opened their doors to Yaletown canines and their "handlers" this past Sunday for a wine and dog cookie tasting event. I can attest that the wine was delicious. We'll just have to take the mutts' woof for it about the cookies.
Here we are hanging at the bar
Katie and her dog, Newsie
Maggie and her new friend, Henry, a 12 week old Retriever
(we do associate with other breeds, but rarely ...)
the Welcome Wagonfrom left: Maggie, Henry, Newsie
cooling off in False Creek
"Out
" and back"
a wet a happy Maggie
So, how was your weekend??
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)