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!

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 ....

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.

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.

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 ....

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!!!!

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 ......

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 WAS BITTEN REPEATEDLY BY A BIG-ASS HAIRY SPIDER LAST NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok, off to my 36 hour holiday now ....

Gratuitous Maggie

I may be a little biased, but really, she's pretty darn fabulous

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 Wagon
from left: Maggie, Henry, Newsie

cooling off in False Creek
"Out

" and back"

a wet a happy Maggie

So, how was your weekend??

Yogathon 2005

Paula (my sister) and me before the event. When my mum sees this photo, she will say: "why do you girls always wear those big sunglasses? you can't see your pretty faces" Mum, like they're cool, okay? get with it, sheesh

Short version: IT WAS AWESOME!!!! Now I am probably one of the least hippy-dippy person living in Vancouver (patchouli makes me want to barf), but the energy and love at this event was palpable. Here's an insight into my psyche: I am highly competitive and generally don't like doing things (especially in public) unless I am confident that I can do them at least as well, if not better than, everyone around me. This was an instance where I was nowhere near as good as 95% of the people around me and I just had to get over that. That accomplished, I grounded myself to the spirit of the event, raising money for Camp Moomba, and saluted the sun. I figure I got through about 80 of the 108. Paula got through all 108 --- she rocks! Highlight: at #54 they blasted Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" to mark the half-way mark. That was kinda surreal. Will definitely be doing this event next year (my hamstrings should be recovered by then).

Sun Salutation #1 - only 107 more to go!!

Maggie & Trudy had the best downward dogs --- maybe they had an unfair advantage??

And a big shout out to Marcus for being a most excellent dog-sitter cum photographer!!

How to irritate me

If there's something I hate, it's passive aggressiveness. Seriously, having to deal with passive aggressive people drives me around the bend, which I guess makes it an effective method from their point of view, but I think it's plain WEAK.

I liken it to playing tennis against a weaker player, yet one who has the ability return pretty much every shot with a seemingly gravity-defying and annoyingly unforceful lob, again and again and again until you are so frustrated that you loose your temper and slam that sucker right into the net, thereby loosing the point and, ultimately, the match, to the annoying lobber, who smirks knowingly at you from the other side of the net, almost daring you to throw your racquet at her head [which reminds me, my sister actually did that to me once, I will have to regale you all with that tale one day ...]. But you don't, because there are rules and we live in a relatively civilized society. Natasha, one day revenge WILL BE MINE. Consider yourself warned.

That said, you can well imagine how much I enjoyed the following exchange:

Me: So, I just received a rather snarky email from X

Passive Aggressive Ass ("PAA"): (smirking) yes?

Me: you sent them something?

PAA: yes, that's the procedure

Me: I explained to you in April why this was a special case

PAA: hmm, I don't recall that

(I am standing, PAA is sitting with a smirking, smug expression that I want to forcibly swat from its face)

Me: we went through this exact exercise in April, just 3 months ago

PAA: yeah, I still don't recall (adding annoying head tilt)

Me: Okay, can we mark the file so it doesn't happen again?

PAA: I hear what you're saying (head tilting smirk as emphasis)

["I hear what you're saying" --- if there is an expression that sets me off, that's it]

Me: oh, forget it, I'll just deal with it

PAA: Right

*&#@$!@#$!!!!!!!

Personal ad, Knowlton WASP style

The following is an excerpt from an email, including photo, I got from my
dad last week. A good indicator of just how desperately my mother wants me to get married and start giving her grandchildren (which, I suspect, she wants partially so that she can sit with the cool kids at bridge):

"His first name is C______, and is, I recall, unmarried, which your
mother liked. She would have flown you to the wedding reception by
private jet if she had enough time (and money). He lives in Mtl and

is a goodfriend of P____ and plays at Royal Montreal Golf Club
as does P____. Very nice guy."

Geek-o-Metre

What I have noticed this week since the release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is how many people are walking around reading it, with it poking out from their bags, with it sitting on their desks -- pretty much everyone is reading it. Which means pretty much everyone is reading (if you subscribe to the a+b=c theory). And that, to me, is very exciting.

I am about half-way through it and am rationing how much I read on a daily basis because I don't want it to end too quickly - tempted as I am to just finish it.

For this little game I am playing with myself, I give me an 8 out of 10 on the Geek-o-Metre.

4 men I love

okay, well "love" may be too strong a word (considering I don't actually know them) but I am certainly crushing on them in a very non-sexual way

after reading my last post (note to self: you really have to rethink the anonymity feature of this blog) a friend asked me what I was looking for in a mate, and I found myself describing in some ways these four men, not physically, but intellectually -- not to sound all pretentious and evolved in that I am only intersted in a man's mind cause that's so not true, as evidenced by this post, but the way in which each of these men, 1, 2, 3 & 4, talk about their wives and children in such loving, glowing, respectful, admiring, terms so publicly and openly is lovely and inspiring and enviable and, well, lovable.

hence my very non-sexual (am repeating that in part to save myself from embarassment and because I have experienced where your lot's minds go) crush.

I want the fairytale, dammit!

There. I've said it . Out loud (well, kind of) and in public (to some extent). I want the freaking fairy tale.

I have moved across the continent, about as far away from my "roots" as possible while remaining in the same country, I have switched careers three or four times, gone back to school, lived on my own, taken care of myself, my dog and my sister, and made lots of truly fabulous friends. I have also had a few not-so-successful relationships. I can do the alone thing. Have done it to death. Have nothing left to "prove" in that regard. And quite frankly I am so over the alone thing. I have actually been having mini anxiety attacks (hear that Paula, yes, me, your non-anxiety plagued sister is having anxiety attacks) over the fact that I am going to end up alone. Okay, maybe with a dozen or so dogs (please note, not cats), but alone in the human context of things.

I want someone to laugh with at the end of the day, to share dinner and breakfast with, to walk with, to go to movies with, have children with, to share with, and yes, the whole sex thing is a most excellent benefit, though not necessarily exclusive to the life-partner scenario. Sex can be found. Relationships? Not so much.

Love, courtship, marriage, friendship, kids, for ever and ever amen, I WANT IT ALL!!!!!!!!!

Now that I've said it, what am I gonna do about it? Not so sure. Haven't planned that far ahead. Admitting the want was a big enough step.

Happy Monday

you know it's going to be a great day when one of the first tasks you have to accomplish is killing the great big hairy spider hanging out by the drain in your one and only shower and you actually have to shower and can't get away with not showering because you took the mutt and went for a what seemed like an excellent idea at the time early morning run through the trails and are now muddy and sweaty and have to be at least somewhat presentable at work in about an hour and a half and the landlords are back so you can't go and use one of their bathrooms and can't get said mutt to dispose of the scary creature because the last time she did it resulted in a very expensive and frightening trip to the vet (anaphylactic shock, anyone??) and to top it off, you discover that you have no dairy for the much needed coffee and the "convenience store" is not open until 8, which is not very bloody convenient

at least it is gloriously sunny outside, though I am inside, at the office, looking outside

p.s. that sucker is DEAD!!!!!!

Thanks from Maggie

When I got to work this morning there was an ENORMOUS leopard print dog bone shaped bed on my desk with a note:

To: Maggie

Love: Jen

Jen was inspired by this photo

You see, the lovely bed in the photo belongs to Max Factor, whom I board once in a while. (Only fair that she got to sleep on it as Max was very fond of her teddy). Jen felt that my little princess deserved one of her very own, so now she has one. Maggie sends many licks and wags to Jen.

Photos of the princess on her new bed coming soon to a blog near you.

Now the funny part will be me getting said bed, and it is about 4 feet long, home tonight on the bus ..... oh yeah, and keeping our managing partner's paws off it as he was eyeing it up as a potential napping accessory

Precious

This is Trudy my sister's mutt. Sorry, Labrador Rottweiller Whistler Special, named after our grandmother, Gertrude (wouldn't want to do that to a kid, so thank God we have dogs). The lovely pink accessory is the reason my sister is currently less than liquid.

Also, photo evidence that the sun did make an appearance in British Columbia in 2005. Okay, so it was February, but we did have some sun. 4 months ago.

random email exchange with my sister

P: WOW! Would have guessed different! (discussing a friend's age) Guess we can't all have our perfect genes :) DO NOT tell her this !!!!

STill painting (she's renoing her new clinic) .... Feeling very guilty about leaving Melissa here over the weekend to finish up. Maybe we could all pitch in tomorrow or come back Saturday and paint... and decorate... sound like fun!!!!! Way better accomodations :) Feeling stressed as still so much to do!!!

What was the name of the place I met you at before the bar bands? I want to eat there tonight.

Paula
PS - not loving the colors - need to do something about it. Maybe big pieces of art?!?!?!


K: yeah, we should really thank mum more often for those genes .....

painting sounds fun, you know I love it (I should really seek therapy for this)

it was Subeez ---- that's a good idea. maybe I will ask Adam to take the mutts out so I don't have to rush home .....

big art, that's the idea ---- maybe someone could do a mural of a huge hand
.....


P: I am going to get some big canvasses and go nuts a la abstract!

Off to get my eyebrows done..... of the pains i go through to be so "naturally" beautiful!


K: i need my brows done, too

P: and I need new clothes....

K: we need to find a pot of gold

P: if you fake your own death how much do I get????? What about the good old insurance plan????? There must be some money for us...
Have you had cake yet????????


K: if I fake my death you get $136,800.00 --- not worth it =)
cake is not until 3:30
how do the brows look?????

P: brows are fabulous. Need new summer shoes.
End world hunger or new shoes??? Am i shallow????
Eat some cake for me. Why 3:30?????


K: one pair of shoes will not end world hunger, it's all relative
wearing new shoes will enable you to go out confidently and crusade for the end to world hunger wearing new shoes will make you stand out and then people will listen to you discuss the importance of ending world hunger
I will sacrifice myself and eat cake in your honour


P: you make a good point!
Housewarming gift for Marcus??? Any ideas????

K: can pretty much justify anything when it comes to shoes ....
housewarming gift -- let me ponder

Seen on Hornby Street

Just walking up the street on my way back to the office from lunch and this little man, okay maybe not technically "little", but significantly shorter than my 5'9, was walking down the street in a business suit with a brand new ice-pick-axe thing over his shoulder. I couldn't help myself, I tried, but I couldn't help it, I started singing:

"high ho, high ho, it's off to work we go ...."

He turned around.

I really have to learn to use that inside voice.

Mad Hot Ballroom

My new obsession with this really, really horrible "reality" television show prompted a friend to recommend Mad Hot Ballroom. This is a truly outstanding film. I smiled, grinned, laughed and cheered the whole way through. I am not a film reviewer, so won't even try. Just GO SEE THIS FILM. Trust me.

Best line:

During a discussion about whether they are "interested" in any of their partners in a boyfriend-girlfriend kind of way (keep in mind that these kids are in grade 5) :

"What do I look for in a boy? Well, he has to be really interested in school, and not deal drugs. yeah, he can't deal drugs, that's for sure. No dealing drugs."

I am paraphrasing, but you get the gist. This is their reality. Sad.

The other highlight for me was seeing the girls being so supportive of each other. They genuinely wanted each other to succeed. They cheered and clapped and encouraged ..... girls, especially of the adolescent variety, are generally catty and competitive and downright mean. These girls were there for each other in every sense. This gave me the warm fuzzies.

GO SEE THIS FILM

The dress almost won

I know I will regret posting the following, but I can always delete it later.

I went to a wedding last night. Or, rather, the wedding banquet as the actual wedding was a few weeks ago. This was the first of about 6 I have this summer. I bought a great dress last week that will do for all 6 (all different people, thankfully) as well as a few other summer events coming up. Simple yet elegant black strapless with white ivy-type stuff embroidered on it. I already had the perfect shoes (another 90% Cole Haan off bargain from last season --- black and white strappy sandals with a 3-inch wedge) and jewelry etc. so it was a no-brainer. The only problem is that with a strapless dress one has to be quite certain of the fit and it has to fit quite snugly so as to ensure that it actually stays where it is supposed to under many different circumstances (I have been a victim of the migrating dress at a very formal occasion and have no wish to repeat that, ever). That being said, this dress fit perfectly and I didn't give it another thought. Until last night when I was getting ready to go. Running late (as usual). With no one other than my trusty little guard dog to assist.

Apparently I am carrying about 6 extra pounds this week, all in front. This will not be the case next week. Get it? Consequently I could not get the rather awkwardly positioned side-zip all the way up, unassisted. Cute and talented though she may be, Maggie does not have opposable thumbs. I did not have a plan "B".

WhatthehellamIgoingtodonow????????

The only logical thing, obviously: zip up the dress and then maneuver it down over my head in a truly logic-defying, contortionist feat that I hope to never have to repeat. It worked. The dress went on and off I went.

The wedding was lovely ---- a traditional Chinese Banquet for about 150 people. It was also probably a very good thing that 14 of the 15 courses were seafood, so I couldn't actually eat anything, thus minimizing the risk of the dress exploding. I could, however, drink from my bottomless wine glass. Hence that rather foggy brain and voice today.

Tug-o-War

This is Maggie and her friend, Max, playing tug-o-war with Maggie's favourite toy in the world, her bear. Max's mum just sent me the photo.

I have tried to replace this bear (it's a little embarassing, to be honest) but she won't have any of it. Brat.

It can be done.

I know, because I have been doing it all day. Walking in flip-flops without making that annoying flip-flop sound.

(I am also aware that I am doing what I condemned others for doing a few short weeks ago --- my rules, I can break 'em)

I am also entirely aware that I made a poor shoe choice this morning but they were practically begging to be worn!! They match my top perfectly and are just about the cutest shoes ever and I haven't had the opportunity to wear them since I bought them at the end of last season --- $200.00 Cole Haan fuchsia and orange leather flip-flops (with a bow) that I got for 90% off (sometimes it really pays to have size 12 feet).

I actually didn't notice how annoying the sound was until I was half-way down the block this morning (running late) and didn't have time to go back and re-think the footwear situation. So I have been making a conscious effort to not make that sound when walking and it is surprisingly easy and why I am now calling BULLSHIT on all those who maintain that "it's not their fault" "all flip-flops make that sound" "it's not that annoying".

It is, they don't and it is, in that order.

Here she is --- the best damn guard dog in the world

Best damn guard dog in the world, originally uploaded by finn_644.

Finally, I have figured out how to post photos to this damn blog. This is Maggie, aka Princess Snoryface aka TBDGDITW.

Holy shit --- I think she really is a guard dog!!!!!

Maggie is not a barker in that she knows how to bark and does bark on occasion, like when she sits at the bottom of trees trying to convince the squirrels to come down and play (not an effective method, by the way), or when every other dog in the room is barking, but does not bark often. I love and nurture this particular quality.

I sleep like the dead. The running joke in our family is that a bloody marching band could parade through my room while I was sleeping and I wouldn't move.

The two of us together make an easy target for "prowlers". Except for last night. At 4:43 a.m. Maggie sounded the alarm with the most panic-stricken bark/howl/growl I have ever heard. I woke up with a start, heart pounding and in my throat --- WTF????? She was going MENTAL!!!

Last fall there was a black bear sitting right outside my bedroom window and Princess Snoryface didn't even bother to wake up, let alone sound the alarm. This morning, something was definitely going on. There was a "prowler" creeping around between the houses and Maggie apparently scared it away.

Good little watch dog.

For women only

Further to a discussion I had with three girlfriends this weekend as to why it sometimes pays to pay someone huge amounts of money for certain things.

WARNING: For women only. If you are a man and are reading this, stop. If you continue to read I take no responsibility and will not accept any flack for this post. You have been warned. For the women, you will all relate to some degree. I cannot take credit for writing it --- I am neither that brave nor that stupid. Here goes ....

One woman's story:

All methods have tricked me with their promises of easy, painless removal:
the Epilady, the standard razor, the scissors, the Nair, the EpilStop, and now The Wax.

My night began as any other normal weekday night. I came home, fixed dinner
for my family and got everyone settled for the night. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple hours: maybe I should use that wax in my medicine cabinet. I made sure no one would need me and I could head for the bathroom in peace.
It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press it on your leg (or wherever). No muss, no fuss. How hard can this be? I mean, I'm not the girliest of girls but I'm mechanically inclined so maybe I can figure out how this works.

You'd think.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other, stuck together. I'm supposed to rub it in my hand to warm and soften the wax. I go one better. I pull out the hair dryer and heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my ass. (Oh, how that phrase will come back to haunt me.) I lay the strip across my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull. OK, so it wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it wasn't bad. I can do this! So with my next wax strip, I'll move north. After checking on my beloved family again, I sneak into the bathroom for The Ultimate Hair Fighting Championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I then apply the wax strip across the right side on my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching up into the inside of the right ass cheek. (Yeah, it was a long strip.)

I inhale deeply. I brace myself. RRRIIIIPPP!!!! I'm blind from the pain! Vision returning. Oh crap. I've managed to pull off half an inch of the strip. Another deep breath. And RIIIP!! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed. Do I hear crashing drums? OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy -- my wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold the wax strip like an Olympic gold medalist. But why is there no hair on it? Why is the wax mostly gone? Where could the wax go, if not on the strip?

Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the toilet. I see hair -- the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I feel. I am touching wax. I look to the ceiling and silently shout. Nooooooo!! I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next big mistake -- up until this point, you'll remember, I've had my foot on the toilet. I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my foot down on the floor. And then I hear the slamming of the cell door.

Vagina? Sealed shut.
Ass? Sealed shut.

A little voice in my head says, "I hope you don't have to shit anytime soon. Your head just might pop off." I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out what I should do next. Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I'll run the hottest water I can stand and get in. The wax should melt and I can gently wipe it away, right? Wrong. I get in the tub -- the water is slightly hotter than is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment -- and I sit.
Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of a tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt the cold wax. So now I'm stuck in the tub--literally!

I call my friend, Liz, because she once dropped out of beauty school so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off skin. It's never good to start a conversation with "So my ass and vagina are stuck to the tub." She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the ass. "Are we talking cheek or hole, here?" she asks. She isn't even trying to hide the giggles now. I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover story for where the wax actually is.
"You know that if we were working the help line at XX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire crack sealed shut we'd just put them on hold then record the conversation for everyone we know. You're going to end up on a radio show or the internet if you tell them the truth."

While we go through various solutions, I have resorted to scraping the wax off with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the girlie goodies than covering them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving the sticky wax off!

In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned to other subjects!) I find the lotion provided with the wax to remove the excess. I rub some in and start screaming "It's working! It's working!" I get hearty congratulations from Liz and we hang up. I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the hair is still there. So I shaved the damned stuff off.

Hell, I was numb by that point anyway. I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet. Never know when a moustache might start to come in.

seen and heard on Robson Street

4 tuff guys driving this car, with Eminem's new ass and slinky song at full volume, hats to the side, gold around their necks, wife beaters in full view, checking out and making the "scene" when all of a sudden:

"Dude --- turn down the music! It's my mum on the phone!"

music is turned off

"Yes mum, I'm coming home now. No, I don't have any friends in the car. Love you"

music back full tilt and off they went

I love the tuff kids from West Van ....

It's all in the timing

Can someone please explain this to me:

Last year I was head over heels about someone. He was seemingly my perfect match, though he just didn't know it. We were/are friends so it could have been awkward, but nothing came of it other than some ferocious flirting on both sides and an interesting situation that came about when we were out one night with a bunch of people and I actually had the nerve to devote the majority of my attention to someone else. That did not sit well with him, but neither did he do anything about it other than pout and generally act like a spoiled child. Fish or cut bait, I say.I got over my "crush" let's call it, and we have continued being friends, no awkwardness, no weirdness.

Recently he has been doing the pouty, spoiled child bit again (not as unattractive as I am making it out to be, really, but I can't think of a better way to explain it) and I was talking to another friend of his today who let it slip that I might be a big part of the reason why his last two forays into the dating world were less than successful. Great, that's what I need, something else to feel guilty about.

I am so done with games and I don't want to play this one. Why couldn't he have been on the same page as me last year and not now?

CYA

When I make a mistake (which, albeit, is a rare occurrence) I am the first to cop to it. I respect those who do likewise and view those who pass the buck as one of the lowest forms of pond scum.

If you loose something or forget to do something or whatever, DO NOT blame it on me. I learned many, many years ago to paper my way through files --- CYA. Document everything so that 5 years down the line when something goes pear-shaped and memories are somewhat fuzzy as to the course of events, there is hard evidence. You have to do this or else some idiot out there will SUE YOUR ASS. So, that being said, don't blame your mistakes on me and make me look like an idiot. Just because you are young and cute and have a pretty face don't think you will get away with it. Remember these three things: I am older than you, smarter than you and know a hell of a lot more than you do.

Also, pissing me off and making me look bad are probably not the way to get me to help you along.

A musical weekend

Friday night I went to the annual Battle of the Bar Bands at the Commodore with a group of friends, most of whom had not attended in past years. When I issue the invitation to go and see a bunch of lawyers pretending to be rock stars the general reaction is: "Sure? it's for charity, right? Could be interesting ..." Well, the level of talent within our legal community is actually quite surprising and it seems I have recruited a few more groupies for our firm's band, The Retainers. The highlight for me had to be the Retainers' version of the BNL's Brian Wilson: you know that the guy signing has been an A-class geek since the day he entered kindergarten and there he was, in his Tommy jeans worn just a little too high, his slightly off haircut and nerdy glasses, fully rocking out and having the time of his life. For that instant he was a ROCKSTAR.

None of the bands disappointed and we danced our little hearts out to surprisingly good renditions of U2 (though I firmly believe that no one should try and pretend that they are Bono, it just doesn't work), the Killers and even Nancy Sinatra (I must find out where she got those amazing hot pink go-go boots). The lingering question in my mind, however, is why, why, why is it always the "married with kids" guys that hit on me and why do they think that telling me about their wives and children and how misunderstood they are will endear them to me? Do I have "Homewrecker" stamped on my forehead? Trust me, that is not something I am likely to add to my resume in the foreseeable future.

I took the mutt for an epic hike Sunday morning (to assuage my guilt for lack of activity Saturday) and returned home to see that "WORK" was on my call display. Nothing brings me down on a Sunday afternoon like seeing "WORK" on my call display. I contemplated pretending that I didn't see it, but my conscience kicked in and I checked the message. Thank God I did because it was one of the boys offering up 2 tickets for the Sarah McLachlan concert that night!! It was AWESOME!!!!! I have seen Sarah many, many times and she never disappoints; last night's show was truly beautiful and it was 2 hours of pure Sarah.

If I had to pick one artist that has been the soundtrack for my adult life it would be her --- I couldn't listen to Fumbling Towards Ecstasy or The Freedom Sessions for quite a few years without sobbing, but have come out of that and it was a pleasure to hear those songs performed beautifully last night. And as sappy a movie as that trainwreck starring Meg Ryan and Nicholas Cage was, experiencing "Angel" live, with just her vocals and her piano, was chilling. It was a magical evening.

Now I want to be a rockstar ......

$#@!&^% Generic Drug Labels

Ibuprofen or acetaminophen ---- which one is the anti-inflammatory? This is critical to me at the moment I am in pain and I forgot my super-strength painkillers at home so am left at the mercy of the office-supplied generic brands and can't remember which one to take. Name brands I know; generic medicinal terms? not so much. ARGH!!!!!!

How I came to be in this predicament:

Maggie and I have 3 basic routes we take: the regular, the long and the oh-my-god-I-slept-in-and-still-have-to run-the-mutt. The first two start out the same and where I turn right for the regular, which takes about 40 minutes in the morning, I turn left at night, turning it into an hour and a half for after work and weekend mornings. The third one is a total cop-out, but does the trick in 20 minutes.

Anyway, last night I got to the turn around point of the long route and decided what the hell, let's take this route all the way and head down to Ambleside. I started running again this week after a 3 month break and was feeling pretty good, so off we went. The mutt was thrilled and the trek down and back actually was not too painful; nice and cool out and I actually love running up hill. Maggie got lots of swims and chased a few bunnies and other fauna and the two of us arrived back at the manse slightly muddied and pooped, but feeling pretty good about life in general.

Then THE PAIN set in. At about 10 o'clock last night there were not enough drugs or ice on the planet to make me happy. The major flaw of the house I am living in right now is that it doesn't have a tub. I am not a huge bath taker (I actually have a hard time sitting still for that long) but at times like last night, all I wanted was a huge soaker tub with tons of hot, hot water and Epsom salts. Not happening. The washer/dryer, dishwasher, fireplace, 10 ft ceilings, etc do make up for the lack of tub. Most of the time. Not last night. I bound a gel-pack around my damn knee with a tensure, popped some pills and hoped for the best.

I managed to get some sleep (Princess Snoryface wasn't having any of these problems, snuggled as she was on the floor at the foot of my bed) and felt just a little stiff in the joints. Nothing too major and it worked itself out on the "regular" walk this a.m. Hence, I neglected to pack the pills in my purse when I came downtown. Which brings me to the dilemma at hand: which damn pills do I take???? I'm opting for the ibu and hoping for the best.

Getting old SUCKS!!!

I call bullshit

on all you men out there who insist that you buy and read Playboy Magazizne "for the articles". Granted, Playboy has had some pretty incredible writers submit articles ---John Steinbeck, PG Wodehouse and Somerset Maughan to name but a few, but really, can you not admit that first and foremost you buy it for the myriad of beautiful, naked and semi-naked women who adorn its pages? The interesting reading is really just a lucky by-product. (prompted by a conversation I had with a friend over the weekend when he for some reason felt the need to justify his magazine purchase to me)

That's kind of like me maintaining that I watch The Hour for its edgy news content. I might say that, and if you believe me, that's fine. But the real reason is the yummylicious host. Granted he is a good interviewer and there are a few good segments on the show. But if I'm being honest, if it weren't for the host I wouldn't be watching. Fact is I tape the thing thereby having the ability to fast-forward through all the ads, the boring stuff and the slightly annoying tricky camera work-driven "documentaries" which makes my version of the Hour more like 25 minutes. And if I learn something by watching? Again, a lucky by-product.

So I can also admit the reason I tuned in to the Diane Sawyer interview of Brad Pitt last night certainly wasn't to learn about his involvement in the ONE Campaign. As if. It was to watch Brad. That's the reason I will pay $11 to see Mr. & Mrs. Smith (which has the fortunate advantage of also starring Angelina Jolie who is what I would choose to look like if given the choice, sans tatties, Billy-Bob and blood vials, but I digress). And why I suffered through dogs like Meet Joe Black, 7 Years in Tibet, The Mexican, Troy and Legends of the Fall. He's gorgeous to look at, plain and simple, and man does he cry well. However, for all those dogs, and there are MANY, there is also Kalifornia, True Romance, 12 Monkeys, A River Runs Through It and yes, even Ocean's 11 (not 12).

That being said, I tuned in to Ms. Sawyer's interview last night fully expecting the usual "I am putting out a new movie, going through a very public divorce, I am not nor did I ever have an affair with Angelina Jolie" kind of thing. WRONG. Instead it was of the two of them strolling through villages in Africa, surrounded by children, advocating the importance of education as the root to the end of poverty in our lifetime. He came across as intelligent, caring, knowledgeable even. I know he is an actor and has the ability to play to the cameras and all that. But it seemed to me at least that he was actually trying to use his own "wanted by the press" status as an avenue to get the message out. He even alluded to the "bounty" put on his head by various publications for illicit photos of himself and Angelina, saying that he would have gladly given the photos to the press had the money been used instead to further the education of the children. This is not original, I know, but it got to me. Which is why I am glad that while I orginally sat down to simply watch Mr. Pitt and his pretty face in action, the lucky by-product of this interview was a critical message that I truly hopes gets driven home.

So this moring I went here and ordered 10. The yellow one on my wrist will be complimented well by the white.

Where were you when I was 7?

I was in an absolutely foul mood just before lunch today, so I went straight to my "happy place", Holt Renfrew (think Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany's). Trying on ridiculously expensive shoes and jewelry just makes me feel better and it's a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy.

Anyway, I gravitated over to Links of London where the bracelet that I have been coveting for a while now and might actually be able to buy courtesy of a very generous gift from someone who will remain nameless, resides.

While I was admiring the bracelet on my wrist a gentleman came in to the department looking for a birthday gift for a "young lady". Now "young lady" is a very vague term and he was of a very vague age so of course I listened in. He then turned to me and asked for my help choosing something. We looked at several different bracelets before deciding on a gorgeous gold (18k) charm bracelet with adorable gold and pink enamel charms: ballet shoe, Kelly bag, diamond ring, puppy, teddy bear. Cost: $3,500!!!!!!!!! He had the bracelet and each charm wrapped in a separate box "so that she would have more to open".

I asked what birthday the lucky young lady was celebrating.



The answer?






7

LilyKate

Last night my girlfriends took me to LilyKate for dinner. It's a relatively new restaurant in Yaletown and is my new favourite place. All pink and green but not too fussy. Great food and generous cocktails and a good yet reasonably priced wine list. (Not to mention a special coffee called "The Finnegan"; Cindy had one of those) In a word, YUMMY!!!!

Started with a "Ruby" --- champagne and Raspberry Champbord, a delicious variation on my traditional favourite Kir Royal. Pink and fizzy, what could be better, really?

We shared some sides: potato, tomato and fontina gratin and roasted vegetables. I had a spinach salad avec chevre, two others had the harvest salad and Nicola had wild mushroom and spinach risotto. All excellent.

I am not a huge fan of dessert, but the manager was buying so we got a piece of the house special: coconut layer cake. Heaven!!

It was a fabulous girly evening.

Just when you thought it was safe to turn on your television

The fine folks at ABC bring us this

Lord have mercy.

Phrases we don't say often enough*

1. Sure, go ahead and put hot fudge on it
2. It was kind of expensive, but I'm worth it
3. I'll tell you how old I am when you tell me how much you make
4. You're right - I am pretty!
5. I'm sorry, I'll start listening when your conversation starts to interest me
6. Not only "no", but "hell no"!
7. Why don't you just take a picture of my chest?
8. Could you talk a little more about me?
9. Yes, I do already have a pair of shoes almost exactly like these. What's your point?
10. It's my birthday, who's buying?

*Taken from a birthday card I received from a great friend this morning --- does she know me, or what??

So, though I tried to ignore that yet another year has passed in my ever-so-exciting life, the truth came out and I am just going to enjoy and revel in the attention, not to mention the gifts =)

What's bugging me at the moment

1. the sound of flip-flops in the office - I know that they are trendy, but come on, this is the office for crying out loud
2. smelly bike couriers in the elevator - I realize that sweating is part of the job, but deoderant is widely available and a shower once in a while wouldn't kill you (and might just save the rest of us)
3. the fact that a plane ticket to Montreal costs over $700.00 round trip --- WTF???
4. that it is sunny outside and I am stuck in the office; I swear the beach is calling my name
5. wifebeaters as fashion --- gee, thanks Eminem, without you I would never have been exposed to the wonders of male body hair in obscure places

I am sure there will be more as the day progresses

How to make a grown man blush

Tell him that the beautiful court reporter from his examination for discovery thinks that he is better looking than Justin Timberlake, whom she met on set whilst portraying, what else, a court reporter.

This made him blush almost as much as when I told him last year that he is much better looking than Ben Affleck (not such a great feat as far as I am concerned).

hee hee

Boyz in the 'hood

I had breakfast/lunch this afternoon at Zen with the girls and 3 young men walked in, wearing matching ear bling, t-shirts - The Killers, Trailer Park Boys combat, Golds Gym - and one of them carrying a Gucci man-purse. All three on the cell phones. They had also obviously recently been waxed above the eyes.

I AM NOT JUDGING.

It simply amused me to no end.

Best 5 bucks I've spent in a while

Bought myself a bunch of massive white peonies, my most favourite flower in the world.

Who says you can't buy happiness????

My Granny

This post is kind of coming out of left field, and is a result of a conversation I just had with a co-worker. Follow the segue:

me: hey, check out my "stigmata"

her: huh??? what the hell???

me: stabbed myself last week in the middle of my hand catching a pencil

her: you know, scientifically speaking they would had to bang the nails through his wrists, not his hands and another thing, we are missing a few days between Good Friday and Easter Sunday if it took three days to go on the cross, die and resurrect

me: yup, I know and he was also probably born in August, not December --- when they were trying to convert the world to Christianity they took some poetic license to draw the crowds, so to speak

her: someone went to Sunday School

me: sort of, but my granny went to Mass every day and if you were on her "list", you were golden. In fact, Oprah did a story on her a few years ago, after she died

her: really? that's cool

me: yup, and my dad still can't watch it. I'll send you the link

here's the link: http://www.oprah.com/rys/journeys/rys_journeys_20000515.jhtml

Happy long weekend!!!

A tale of 3 (bad) dates

Date 1

A friend from back east had a friend moved here and was convinced that we would be a "great match". I trusted her so agreed to go out on a date with the guy. Like her husband, this guy is/was a broker. He picked me up (late) and said that he was taking me to a "real swanky place" (not bad looking, tall, good clothes). We went to the Salmon House on the Hill. I am very, very allergic to all seafood, fish included. I also find this particular restaurant to be very overrated, outdated and pretentious. However, I was keeping an open mind. This guy talked nonstop for 3 hours about himself, how great he was, how much money he makes, how many women he had dated, etc., etc., etc. I drank (couldn't eat anything, so what the hell). He didn't even notice, I don't think, that I didn't eat anything, though managed to get through most of a bottle of (very yummy) red wine. Seriously, it was the only thing keeping me sane.

We did not have a second date, though he did call and reportedly told my friend that he thought I was great.

Moral: Money/financial success do not equal class/style/personality

Date 2

A co-worker's fiancee's friend was "perfect for me" she said, so she set it up for the 4 of us to go to a movie and dinner on evening after work. Here's how it played out:

Him: Francophobe from Montreal, lower east side
Me: Anglophone from Montreal, west side

Him: huge chip on his shoulder
Me: don't give a rat's ass

Him: showed up wearing gold velour
Me: 'nuff said

Moral: Just because 2 people hail from the same province does not mean that they are going to be a love match.

Date 3

A dear friend whom I adore sent me an email that read something like this:

"Finn --- was at a party over the weekend and met this great guy that would be so totally perfect for you. We're going to Rodney's Friday, you have to come meet us."

Everyone tells me that you have to put yourself out there, so I went (again to an restaurant that could kill me, see a trend????). I was running late so I called to tell him that I was enroute. I am so sorry, I am so very, very sorry, were the first words out of his mouth. I should have turned and ran way. I didn't. My friend apologized to me throughout the evening; I made sure to drink very expensive cocktails on his tab. The guy was obnoxious, loud, a braggart; in short, a classic buffoon.
Over brunch the next day I asked my friend the key question: what in heaven's name made you think this guy would be so totally perfect for me????

I must have been drunker than I though, was the (sheepish) reply.

Moral: if friends offer to set you up with someone they met at a party, make sure to ask how many cocktails they had had prior to arriving at their conclusion

There you have it, my most recent dating experience in the city of Vancouver.

Voting

Maggie and I cast our vote last night. Won't tell you who for, 'cause that's kind of like asking a woman her weight, but in the end I was not wooed by a pretty face.

The whole election/voting thing got me to thinking about how much I like voting and all the happy memories I have that revolve around campaigns, elections and the like. Don't get me wrong --- I am so very not political and it is an area a steer clear of in arguments because I firmly believe in only participating in arguments I feel confident in winning and I don't know enough about politics to do that. However, I have been involved in a way in municipal, provincial and federal politics ever since I was a wee child.

My mum (and dad, I guess, but he wasn't home much when I was young, so I really just remember this stuff about my mum) was involved with the Liberal Party and would take us with her enumerating and canvassing. We wold also go to the polls with her and "help" the voters. We would also car pool older voters and others who couldn't get to the polls on their own. Looking back it seems of odd that it was my mother, who honestly doesn't not strike me as being particularly politically aware, who instilled the importance of voting in us.

Growing up in Quebec during the whole FLQ thing and subsequent PQ reign of M. Levesque made me quite aware that politics was very much a part of our lives. I proudly wore my "Non Merci" button on my school uniform in 1980 and firmly believed (still do) that "My Canada Includes Quebec". When I got old enough to vote, I did, in addition to working at the polling stations and driving people around. Perhaps my most memorable experience was during the referendum concerning the Constitution/Charlottetown Accord in 1992:

I was back living with my parents, briefly, and they lived down the street from Pierre Trudeau, hence he was in our riding. (aside: my dog Seamus and I would see Mr. Trudeau pretty much every morning on our walk and he would tip his hat, say good morning and pat Seamus each time. If for no other reason, I feel he was a great man and cried when he died) I was a volunteer and was manning the "check in desk" at the poll, verifying everyone's ID against the voter list. When I arrived in the morning there were tons of cameras and reporters surrounding the entrance of the polling station. "That's weird" I thought to myself as I entered. Why they were there became clear about 5 minutes later. The first voter through the doors and presenting his ID for verification? PET himself. I calmly checked his name against the voter list and off he went to cast his ballot.

Anyway, all this to say that I am glad I voted, feel strongly that everyone should as it is a privilege and a responsibility and am grateful that my mum got us so involved at such a young age and in such a positive way.

seduction by accent

Feeling rather more ambitious than usual when I got home last night, I decided to make the trek down to Edgemont Village with the mutt. I was also rather motivated, I must admit, by the thought of indulging in my new favourite treat: the blackberry-peach scone at Starbucks. The hike up Mount Royal, stroll down Mosquito Creek, hike back up Mosquito Creek and walk back down Mount Royal were going to be enough of a workout to justify the empty calories of the scone.* There was also, the added bonus of walking by the firehall with the cute firemen not once, but twice, but I digress .....

So, off we went. Maggie had a great time running down the creek, swimming, frolicking, chasing sticks, etc. Got to Starbucks and settled in at an outside table with my decaf Americano (it was after 7, after all) and my yummy and much anticipated scone and cracked my new Vanity Fair. However, I was soon distracted by a lovely voice coming from behind me; male, with the most wonderful, soft and lilting Irish accent. I am an absolute sucker for an Irish accent. I virtually melt. I sat and listened for a while with images of Gabriel Byrne, Liam Neeson and Colin Farrell (not the obnoxious Colin Farrell, but the lovely Home at the End of the World Colin Farrell) floating in my head (the voice was behind me, so I couldn't see the face). I was actually smiling to myself as I listened, not so much for content (quite mundane, actually) but for the sound.

Coffee and scone complete, I got up to leave and came face to face with the voice: a pimply-faced adolescent. Sigh ....... another dream crushed.



*Welcome to another facet of my really exciting life: I have the need to justify pretty much everything that goes in my mouth, red wine excepted. Have done therapy and am much better, thanks.

Books

Old books are like old friends --- reliable and dependable and comfortable. You know what you're gonna get and can pick and choose who you spend time with depending on your mood. I have had friends comment that I should just take books out of the library, seeing as how I go through them like water. However, I like owning books, good books, books that I can come back to again and again and again. They are a comfort of sorts for me.

I also love recommending books that I love and having other people love them, too. Now I also have my trashy books --- British Chick Lit, mainly. These are books that I get form the bargain tables or school fairs and charity sales. Books that don't require a lot of attention or thought. Brain porn, if you will. Not just any brain porn though. I am actually quite picky about the trash that I read. Sue Grafton of the alphabetized Kinsey Milhone novels is a favourite, as are Wendy Holden and Jill Mansell. I am new to Stephanie Plumb, female bounty hunter, but what I read thus far has been very entertaining. Books in this category are not as "precious" and they sort of rotate on and off the shelves, with the older ones finding their way back to charity sales and the like.

My father is a great source of "quality" reading material --- he is constantly buying books and will lend them out, providing you sign the book loaning book. I am serious. He actually has one. I tend to borrow 10 to 12 on each visit home and return the ones from the previous visit. This makes my luggage a tad heavy, but is well worth it. Books from my last trip home include: The Kite Runner, The Piano Tuner and The Bookseller of Kabal. All three excellent reads.

I got to thinking about this when I grabbed "Raise High the Roofbeam, Carpenters" and "Seymour an Introduction", two short stories by J.D. Salinger, off my bookshelf in my mad dash to leave the house this morning. I haven't read this book in years and got thoroughly engrossed on the bus this a.m. Say what you will about Catcher in the Rye, but Salinger was a phenomenal writer. He probably still is, but he hasn't published anything in over 50 years.

Wouldn't it be cool if J.D. Salinger had a Blog?

The glory of crushes

The subject of first tv/movie crushes came up at work yesterday. Sarah-Jill Miller (Gimme a Break), Nancy McKeon (Facts of Life) and Valerie Bertinelli (One Day at a Time) were the objects of desire for the boys. River Phoenix (Stand by Me) and Jordan Knight (New Kids on the Block) were "da bomb" for the girls (yes, there is a slight age variable to factor in here).

I will disclose mine later.

This got me to thinking about crushes in general.

My current tv crush is certainly no secret. This blog has had more than one entry devoted to him. No more needs to be said on that topic (well, for now anyway).

Other current tv/movie crushes: Colin Firth (Mr. Darcy, sigh), Patrick Dempsey (golly, but he grew up well), Johnny Depp (like, duh)

I currently have a few other "crushes" in my life --- one of my co-worker's best friends, for instance. He is totally married with kids, but no matter. It is a purely non-sexual crush and I have even told him. He was amused (I think). As far as I am concerned, it is perfectly healthy and acceptable to have these non-sexual crushes; they add a certain excitement and pleasure to your day and harm no one. I have no desire to be a homewrecker and despise those who do. As long as everyone is up-front, where's the harm??

I saw a former crush the other day. I say former, because he now gives me the heebie-jeebies. This guy, we'll call him "Bob" (so not his real name), is a client of someone I used to work for. Tall, handsome, well dressed (Prada, baby), educated, successful, great family, smelled really good, etc. Charm exuded from his pores and I would swoon when he came to the office. Well not literally as I was most often seated at my desk, but you get the general idea. Anyway, Bob's matter took up a great deal of our time so he was at the office a lot and called a lot. Those around me would know when it was Bob on the phone as my face would quickly turn the colour of a ripe tomato. Bob's appeal was not lost on the rest of the ladies in the office and his arrivals could be felt reverberating throughout. My desk would suddenly become "the" spot to be in the office. Bob because a bit of a legend. However, Bob began to tarnish as I learned more about him outside the professional realm. Seems he was/is a well-know player in town and while this should not have come as a huge surprise -- young, single, attractive, rich, rich, rich, in a town where available men are few and far between, it did. I liked my version of him: nice family kind of guy. I know, I know, I must some day visit reality. So, my crush came crashing down to earth. Saw him yesterday entering our building. That crush is sooooooo over.






My first tv/movie crush? Donnie Osmond and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

You can shoot stupid people, can't you??

I had a rather amusing little Maggie tale to recount this morning, but then I got these two emails and changed my tack:

"Our dog recently was surprised by our toddler, and bit him on the head (no blood drawn)(don't know about you, but if a kid climbed on me when I was sleeping, I would probably wake up swinging). I know our dog well, and I am positive that this was simply a natural reaction to being surprised from a deep sleep, and was in no way mean-spirited. That said, a toddler is a toddler, and I can't help but conclude that this may very well happen again. We are not interested in testing this. So. We are looking to find our dog a new home.

Hank is a 2 year old pure bred Chesapeake bay retriever (papers available). He is an awesome dog and we love him a lot. We are very upset and disappointed to come to this conclusion, but aside from our own baby, we have a lot of friends with little kids and simply can't risk having this happen again.

Hank needs an owner who can give him the time, respect, and guidance he needs to continue to be a great dog. He needs a lot of exercise- we have a dog walker for him everyday during the week so that he gets at least one good hike per day. As Micki will attest, Hank is a large, dominant dog and he needs an owner who tells him who's boss. He also needs a lot of love and attention. If Hank gets these 2 things, with steady exercise, he will be the happy galoot that we know and love."

and this one:

"I know of a miniature Schnauzer that needs a home by the end of May. Her name is Sophie, she was 2 on Christmas Eve, she is spayed, went to puppy training, and is an all around great little dog. The problem is she apparently barks when the owner's kids are playing etc..., I mentioned to the owner a possible solution (pennies in a can) which she said started to work, but she said the family had already made up their minds to give up the dog. She also did bite at the owner once when the owner attempted to "discipline" her when the owner was on the phone and Sophie was getting into something. The owner said that Sophie was very remorseful and that nothing like that had ever happened before or since. She gets along well with other dogs and is good with children."

This kind of stupidity makes me very, very angry (using my Marvin the Martian voice as I type this). Pets are not disposable. Period. Full stop. Bringing a pet of any kind, bird, fish, cat, dog, snake, is a huge responsibility and FOR LIFE.

Hank has stayed at my house. He is a lovely, lovely dog, just HUGE!!!! I don't know Sophie, but if the worst things she does is bark when the kids are playing, then I am sure she is great too. She's a terrier for God's sake!!!! They bark. Most dogs do (Maggie excepted).

Pets are family and as much as we would like to give away members of our family at times, we don't. Getting a pet is a major life decision not to be entered into lightly.

This is how Maggie came to be in my life --- her first family had researched her and wanted a puppy from two specific parents, Canadian Champion Super Dogs (I do not recommend this). They got her at 8 weeks and brought her home. 2 weeks later the dad left. Mum now had a 16 month old, a 6 year old and a 12 year old and a 10 week old, very active (she's from circus stock) golden retriever. The two older children hated the dog and blamed her for their dad leaving. The mum had too much on her plate and needed to find a new home for the dog. The kids wanted the dog gone. I saw her for 2 minutes and knew that I had to have her. The mum was very clear with her children when they told her to get rid of the dog and she told them that they would not be allowed to have any other kind of pet, ever. When I went to pick her up, the kids were, like, "bye Breezy (her old name). Mum, where's my bike?" If that had been me and my mum was giving away my dog, I would have been apoplectic. The bastard husband was pissed that they were getting rid of the dog and insisted that I pay him $500 for her. I did, and gladly. That was almost 6 years ago and I honestly can't imagine life without her.

As far as I am concerned, these people should be put on a list a people who are never, ever, ever allowed to have another pet for as long as they live.

Thanks, better now.

clichee

Ran a lunchtime errand at London Drugs. Surveyed my purchases when I got to the cash:

Tampons
Super-Strength Motrin
Thick, dark chocolate Caramilk
Jane Magazine

I have become yet another clichee =)

Ungrateful Brat

My friend Jocelyn left today to go home to Calgary. She has been visiting since last Saturday as she had some legal/medical crap to do in Vancouver, and will be back again early June for more of the same. Aside from my father, Jocelyn is probably Maggie's favourite person on the planet ---- Joc stayed with us for a few months back when Maggie was a puppy and they forged an unbreakable bond. Also, Joc's arrival generally means that we are going to do lots of fun stuff that includes the Princess, like trips to Oregon, runs at the beach, long sleep-ins after mum goes to the office. You know, fun stuff that requires a car and I don't have one.

Last night we went for a walk down at Ambleside Beach (I generally avoid Ambleside, but Joc's mum was here as well and I figured it wouldn't be too bad on a Monday night). We got to the end of the dog beach and Joc wanted to take a postcard perfect shot of a crave standing in silhouette on a rock at high tide. So, I put the mutt on leash and Jean (Joc's mum) and I waited while Joc went to get the shot. Well, you would have thought I was jamming hot pokers into the dog's eyes she carried on so much!!! The whining and crying and pulling and more whining and crying --- all because Joc went further down the beach and she had to stay and wait with me. Her mother. The person who provides for her. Rescued her from the negligent family. Lets her sleep on the duvet, not to mention the hand-built down couch. Feeds her organic chicken and lamb. Hires and pays for the lovely walkers who take her out each and every day while I am toiling away at the office. Sat up with her for 3 nights when she had kennel cough and sounded like she swallowed a bull frog Gets up at 6 a.m. every moring for a 45 mionute run in the woods and again when I get home at night, after that long day toiling away at the office. Mon Dieu!!

Joc got the shot, came back and Maggie was appeased.

Brat.

Right of out a friggin movie

We were sitting on the patio at Nevermind Friday night, enjoying a few cocktails and the mild spring night when a long, white stretch limo drove past us on 4th Ave and turned on to Blenheim. Right, grad season, we thought. Then the driver got out, opened the trunk and pulled out a couple of long-boards. Then a bunch of attractive skater guys got out, then a really attractive skater girl. They had a very obvious look of having enjoyed some "wacky tobaccy" quite recently; it was quite a scene.

The story we concocted as to what was going on:

Obviously they were sponsored skaters who had just wrapped up producing their new video game, based on them, at Electronic Arts. Their movie had debuted at Sundance and they were touring to promote it. Disciples of Tony Hawk.

The real story as told to us by the super cute boy in the Adidas jacket (yes, far too young for this old broad, but anyway):

They had been down at the beach, got a call from their bud the limo driver who had just dropped a bunch of kids off at their grad downtown and did they want to cruise around for a while. He picked them out, wouldn't let them smoke in the car, brought them to Spanish Banks where they, like, smoked a huge chonger man, and then dropped them off for some food. The hot girl was just some babe they had picked up in the beach, she's from Bermuda and they are all, like, hot for her, but really want to hang with her for the summer, so are hanging back and playing it cool.

We told him our story. He was like, cool --- I'm going to use that one for sure tonight.

We went home.

Prom

Tomorrow is Kentucky Derby Day, which means it is also the day for my highschool's senior prom. I did not attend my senior prom and now I want to. Not my senior prom way back in 1980 something, but a senior prom NOW, with most of my insecurities behind me and with the ability to actually enjoy such an event and, let's face it, it's the perfect occassion to wear a fancy dress and maybe even a tiara .....

I attended an all-girls boarding school outside Boston, Ma. for grades 9 through 12. Throughout most of highschool I was what can possibly be described as a cool geek. I was friends with all the "cool" girls, though I did not always feel comfortable hanging out with them "en masse". I was also rather bookish and I tended to prefer being by myself or with just 1 or 2 friends rather than a big crowd. That being said, my crowd decided quite early in our senior year that Proms were "stupid" and that we were far too cool to actually attend.

This, however, did not keep us from trying on loads of fru-fru dresses (think Boston, mid-80's, Gunne Sax and the like) --- kind of like Muriel's Wedding, now that I think about it. Anyway, I had a falling out, can't remember over what, with my two closest friends who were anti-prom along with me, and in "retribution" they attended the prom, leaving me by myself back at the dorm. Yes, I cried and then ate a pint of Haagen-Daz and a good portion of a Sara Lee Pound Cake (sometimes you just have to give in to the stereotype).

Now I wish that I had gone to prom. I never got to wear the fru-fru dress, get a corsage from some guy I hardly knew (all girls school) and eat rubber chicken at the Copley Plaza Hotel and get a cheesy picture taken and go to the Cape for the after party breakfast and all that fun stuff.

So, I have been thinking --- there must be othe people like that out there that want to either (a) go to a prom, (b) do the prom thing over again because it was such a disaster the first time 'round or (c) peaked in highschool and are longing to relive the best night of their lives.

Solution? Am thinking of maybe arranging some sort of benefit prom for a yet-to-be-decided charity .....

Coffee

I have a long and bumpy relationship with coffee. It all began in the mid-70's after my parents' trip to France. When they got back to Montreal, there was a subtle shift in the workings of the Casey household: salad was served after dinner, lots of strong chevre appeared on the cheese plate and the coffee started getting stronger and stronger and was served with warned milk, usually "en bolle". Oh, yeah, and lots and lots and lots of red wine was consumed together with the DuMauriers, though the latter were present long before the trip across the pond. So, at the tender age of 8 I developed a taste for the bean, insisting on the warm milk and passing on the sugar (still can't stand sweet drinks).

When I was away at boarding school, the "cool kids" hung out at the local Howard Johnsons and smoked cigarettes and drank cup after cup after cup of bad coffee. Funny thing --- we were terribly restricted in our activities at school, like we couldn't go off campus after 7 p.m. or get in to cars without very specific instructions or go to the movies during the week or even watch television during the week, but we were allowed to smoke, on campus, off campus, in the butt room, on the front porch of the dorms. At a buck a pack in those days (I am severely dating myself) why not?? Weird. Anyway, I couldn't tolerate the weak crap they passed off as coffee, so I started drinking espresso with lots of milk, this in the day waaaaay before Starbucks and other establishments of its ilk. This got me some flack, but whatever.

When I first moved to Vancouver I got a job as a "barrista" at Starbucks --- good hours, great benefits and all the coffee I could handle. Got all my friends hooked, too, and they blame for their addiction to this day. Sometime in my mid-20's I developed a stress induced ulcer and the doctor advised that I give up, among other things, drinking coffee. I did my level best, switched to herbal teas (YUCK!!!!!), drank lots of water, etc. Got the ulcer under control and chucked the flowers. I have managed to successfully quit smoking and stop drinking diet coke, but a girl's gotta have a vice, right?

Anyway, the reason for this little tale of my relationship with the bean? My friend Jocelyn is here visiting from Calgary (more on that another time). When she told me she was coming out, I informed her that the new rate at Casa Casey was a pound or two of Oso Negro Coffee, available at select locations, namely Nelson, Golden and Field, British Columbia. I made my first pot of Oso Negro this morning. Pure and utter HEAVEN!!! Super strong and not the least bit bitter. Yummy. I have even brought some of the precious beans to my regular Starbucks guy (he often shoots me freebies) and will hear his verdict demain.

Puppy in the house!!

Maggie and I looked after a friend's 4 month old puppy this weekend, Kenai. Too. Much. Fun. It did, however, cure me of my desire to get a new puppy (financial considerations aside). At least temporarily.

This was Kenai's first time away from home and his first experience with "big boy walks", ie no leash, running around free in the woods, playing with all sorts of other dogs, etc. Negotiating the 157 stairs down in to the trails was really quite a feat, being all bottom heavy and everything, and the mud puddles were irresistible (resulting in his first hose-down). Our regular 40 minute walk turned into a two hour affair ---- Kenai isn't quite as speedy as Maggie and everyone and their dog had to stop and play with the puppy (I made sure they gave at least some attention to the Princess as her nose was getting a little out of joint). Judging by most of the reactions to this little bundle of cuteness, people just can't resist a golden retriever puppy.

He ran around like a lunatic, fell over himself repeatedly, took mini rests along the way, barked at Maggie when she wasn't paying sufficient attention to him or his need to play with her, tumbled down the side of the ravine (he's fine). I got most of it on video so that his 'parents" can see what he did on his weekend away.

At the end of the walks he was tuckered and the two goldens lay side by each, legs splayed out in front, Kenai the miniature image of Maggie, for hours.

The rest of the weekend went as follows: where Maggie went, Kenai went. What Maggie did, Kenai did. Kenai's favourite toy? Maggie's tail. Man, she's a patient dog!!!! He slept in his crate at the foot of my bed and, contrary to his mother;'s warning that he is an early riser, didn't make a sound until 8 both mornings. Which is a very good thing 'cause Maggie is seriously not a morning kind of girl.


End note: boy do boy puppies have to pee a lot!!!! I am so used to Maggie the camel who is able to go over 24 hours without peeing, that we had a few "accidents" on the kitchen floor when my reflexes were a little sub-par. Oh well, at least it was on the tile floor.