what a difference a year makes

Last year his idea of fashion was Dockers (with pleats). Need I say more?

Last night he called to tell me that there was a big sale at Holt's (if you are Canadian and reading this you know where I mean; if not, think Neiman Marcus, Barneys, or similar) and why don't we go there and get that Paul Smith suit we were looking at last week, you know with the no--pleat trousers.

I am so proud of him.

Really, it's the little things in life

Bringing me the Style Section from the Globe & Mail on Saturday morning, knowing that it's really the only section that I actually read (I may pretend to read like realm news and stuff, but that's just a ruse). That's a sure-fire way to start earning your way back into my heart.

a bi-polar kind of day

Yesterday morning I woke up in a ridiculously good mood. no reason, was just happy. GOOD

Early in my work day I was told that I was a "low priority" by the EA of one of our Directors. Excuse me? Me? a low priority? I don't think so. BAD

Later I had lunch with a friend and former co-worker whom I have not seen in ages and we have been, unsuccessfully, trying to connect for months. A great gab session. GOOD

On my way back to the office I got swamped by a stupid car and had to spend the rest of my day damp. BAD

Early evening I went to my first yoga class in a very long time and it was fabulous. I left feeling refreshed, centered, calm and mellow. GOOD

When I got home there was a message from Jake's dad (the boy I was seeing this summer) wanting to chat. GOOD? BAD? dunno

I returned the call only to be confronted with "I knew you weren't telling the truth when I asked you if you were seeing anyone else this summer. I saw you with him on Sunday and you looked quite cozy together!" definitely BAD

(There was more to that conversation but it doesn't bear repeating - basically accused me of lying and/or cheating and insinuated that I was not a very nice person. So very glad that I dodged that bullet, let me tell you!!)

Spent the remainder of the evening snuggled on the couch with a lightly snoring Maggie. GOOD

let's hope this day has remembered to take its meds!

Friends like this are priceless

an email exchange between two sane, responsible, successful women who are firmly grounded in reality:

"Hello,

Have just returned from my elopement with Sir Clive. It was lovely. There will be no pictures - it was all we could do to avoid the paparazzi. My ring is enormous but must be kept in a vault in our Swiss bank because if it was ever stolen the value of it would bankrupt the world's economy. The honeymoon was, well, I will not digress. Eventually, I will have you out to our country estate (perhaps you have heard of it - Wales?, lovely little place, mountains, lots of shoreline, the Help speaks with a funny accent).

I am home now for a while, maybe we can meet up for errands or a coffee sometime. I know yours and George's schedules are as frightful as mine.

Let me know.

Mrs. O"

"Greetings,

Indeed, George & I heard wind of your recent elopement and would have sent our congratulations earlier but we were sequestered at his estate in Lake Como and, well, let's just say we were "busy".

I am, unfortunately, home as well and my schedule is remarkably clear, at least for today and tomorrow.

Cheers!"

Connor continued

These emails were waiting for me in my in-box when I got to the office this morning:

"Just back from the vet and he has given him a life line for at least 3 to 4 weeks by giving him a shot of cortisone plus pills for 10 days… apparently the lymph glands have grown to double the size since last month thus causing his throat to close and make eating difficult but apart from that his body is good, joints excellent and sprits best of all… tail still wags as usual… all that to say that we have some time with him knowing his time is coming to an end so we can bond and make it easier for all of us…just fed him chicken livers and scrambled eggs… going to be spoilt a bit too…why not…so say your prayers for him and surely he will give us several more great weeks… xoxo Mummy"

"Dear Katie,

Your mother took Connor to the vet yesterday and he was given a shot of cortisone. This has got him back on his feet and acting somewhat normally. She is also going to give him pills for the next ten days. The vet says that he could last a few more weeks….so we will do everything to make his last little while comfortable….no more dried dog food but scrambled eggs, chicken livers, tuna, cheese and of course endless cookies. It is all very sad. He is so much of our lives.

xxoo

your father"

I am so sad right now -- for Connor, of course, but mostly for my parents.

Connor

2 summers ago my parents’ dog Connor developed a tumour in his jaw that was biopsied and diagnosed as a very aggressive form of cancer. My parents opted not to operate or subject him to chemo as he is a very sensitive dog and the vet felt that the trauma of the surgery and the treatment might do him in. My mother instead opted for a homeopathic approach and started him on a “treatment” of cottage cheese and flax oil. 6 months later the tumour was gone (adding to our suspicions that he was faking his cancer as a reaction to all the attention and "treats" that my father received during his cancer treatment recovery period. You see, once Connor was diagnosed my parents felt that it was their duty to indulge his every whim and so began the seemingly endless supply of cookies. Not a stupid dog, that Connor).

My mother called me yesterday, audibly distraught, and told me that he has lymphoma and has at least 9 large lumps in his neck that have developed in the last month. I am waiting to hear back from her as to what the vet has to say about him. Dogs have a crazy tolerance for pain and for him to not eat (except for a couple of cookies, but they aren’t food food) or even want to go out to pee indicates that the cancer is pretty far gone.

This is a picture of Connor in his favourite place (guarding the cookie jar) that I took this September when I was at my parents’ house for their 40th anniversary party. He is a beautiful boy and only 8 years old --- far too early to go.

take that, political correctness

I just ordered the company Christmas cards and the greeting will read:

"Merry Christmas and all the Best for 2007"

from company name and logo

for some reason it makes me very happy that I am now working with a company that hates "Seasons Greetings" as much as I do and isn't afraid (if afraid is the correct word) of appearing politically incorrect in this instance

Trick-or-Treating --- the new singles' scene??

I live in a very family-oriented neighbourhood with lots and lots of little kiddies and very little traffic which makes it a fabulous neighbourhood for trick-or-treating, so Maggie had lots of kids and bags to poke her nose at when we were out for our evening constitutional. As we were on our way home we walked past a dad obviously waiting for his kids.

“Great costume” he said

“Pardon?”

“The retriever – great costume”

“Yeah, thanks, pretty realistic, eh?”

“Are you out with your kids?”

“Uh, no, no kids, just walking the dog” as I move away, closer to my own driveway

“Dad!!! Come on!!! Let’s go!!!!”

“Here, have a KitKat”

“Daaaaaaad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Thanks for the candy”

“You’re welcome. You’re the best I’ve seen tonight”

I giggled my way into the house. I guess I was really working the sexy fleece and pink toque I had on last night!!

another symptom of the floopies: IDIOCY

When out walking Maggie last night in the dark and the rain I stepped on a rock and went over on my ankle, spraining it quite badly and painfully. Truth be told, it hurts like a son of a bitch!! Now I have broken this particular ankle 4 times in my life so am quite familiar with this event. After running the routine tests and establishing that it was not, in fact broken, I picked myself off up the pavement and stumbled back home. I iced, I elevated, I cried, and I contemplated calling the one person who lives relatively near me, who owns a car, and who, most importantly, keeps a supply of good painkillers at the ready. But I didn’t call. I sucked it up, made do with my measly Ultra-Tylenols and felt sorry for myself. The reason I didn’t call? Well, that would be because the person with the good drugs happens to be the same person who is the cause of my floopies and with whom I have a date on Sunday for a hike. The thought of calling him thereby allowing him to see me looking ever so slightly less than glamorous, and very vulnerable and with my apartment maybe not in the best shape that it’s been in in its life, was just too much for me to bear. I couldn’t do it. Also, making that call would alert him to the fact that I am injured and that maybe we shouldn’t go for a hike on Sunday. That won’t work for me, either. I plan on being in fighting shape come Sunday, or maybe I’ll suggest a gentle hike, like one with no hills or uneven surfaces ...

And I have yet to mention the really attractive and PAINFUL bruise on my hip, which took the brunt of my fall after my bloody ankle gave out. I am sure by Sunday that it will be all sorts of attractive colours.

The things we do for boys, eh?

how to irritate me

tell someone a lie, use me as your backup and don't bother filling me in on the lie (making me look like an incompetent and thoughtless idiot)

I do believe that that particular friendship is on its way out .......

Floopy

The feeling you get when you see a person’s name pop up on your call display, or your email in-box, or your text message in-box, when your heart speeds up and you feel slightly light-headed and your hand starts to shake even though you are fully aware that the cause of this disorder has proven time and again that he is more than capable of breaking your heart and throwing your usually well-balanced life and mind into an out-of-control tailspin.

That's right - this girl has yet again fallen victim to a terminal case of the floopies (yet there is a smile on her face, so maybe this time’s gonna be different)

Ding Dong the Witch is Dead!

You know how "they" say that taking the moral high ground and not stooping to your adversary's level, and being professional and all that is the better way to go? Turns out "they" are right.

My adversary is about to get her ass canned! And the best part? She herself sent the email to me this morning that will be the final nail in her well-deserved coffin. Victory is mine! (and I didn't even have to get my hands the least bit sullied)

SWEET!

(I do have to admit, though, that I was sorely tempted to bitch-slap her smug little face this morning)

so that's the secret

want to know how to make a presumably grown and respectable professional male in his late 40's grin?

(get your minds out of the gutter)

tell him he's first in line for the new model Blackberry and that it will be his by the end of the week.

issue of earth shattering importance

As a general rule I am definitely Anti-Clog. I am especially Anti-Clog when it comes to those truly ugly and I really don't care if they are the most comfortable shoe to ever grgace this planet, Crocs (or Holey Shoes, which are all the rage in fashionable Brakendale, British Columbia). That said, I am inexplicably drawn to these

any thoughts??

On Beauty

I am reading an amazing book right now - Zadie Smith's On Beauty. This passage struck a very strong chord with me as I read it on my commute to the office this morning:

"Why are there no awards for the girl who starves herself through the Christmas period – refusing all sweetmeats, roasts and liqueurs offered to her – so that she might appear at the January formal in a backless dress and toeless shoes, although the temperature is near to freezing and the snow is heavy upon the ground? Howard, who wore a floor-length overcoat, gloves, leather shoes and a thick college scarf, stood by Emerson’s front gate and watched with real awe the mist of white flakes falling upon bare shoulders and hands, the clothed men holding their near-naked, decorative partners as together they stepped around puddles and snowdrifts like ballroom dancers on an assault course. They all looked like princesses – but what steel must lurk within!"

Any girl worth her salt who has attended a winter formal in her lifetime can surely relate.

What am I thankful for?

Moments like this.

my very first piece of haute couture

For years my mother worked in the fashion industry, as a fashion co-ordinator, fashion show producer, personal shopper, and as such had access to some truly gorgeous clothing. Two items stand out for me: her midnight blue with white stars Kritzia cocktail suit and her full length, black silk Jean Muir skirt.

The Jena Muir skirt arrived at my door yesterday in all its glory and man now I know why one pays for the real thing ---- this skirt is at least 25 years old, looks as though it came off the Paris runway last week, weighs about 10 pounds in all of its black silk glory and looks and feels like a million bucks on.

And? it's a SIZE 6!!!!! That's right, I am now not only the owner of a genuine piece of haute couture, but of a genuine piece of haute couture that is a SIZE 6 and fits me!!!!!!!

now isn't this a nice email to receive??

I met with a friend last week about a new business venture he wants to involve me in. This was the intro line to our negotiations:

"First, I have to pass on that Jason was thoroughly impressed and wants to make sure we find a way to steal you away permanently somewhere down the road!"

yes, I am THAT good

Paranoia sets in

prompted by a series of emails about that last post

IT WAS A DREAM.

DID NOT HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE.

ARE WE CLEAR ON THAT POINT?

I looked at the stats to see who was looking, etc. one "viewer" stood out and when I drilled down to see who/where the IP address was from I got totally freaked out --- there is only one person I know who could possibly be checking in from there and that person is the LAST PERSON ON EARTH that I want reading this blog.

That person is the subject of quite a few of my most personal entries. I have never told that person about Finn's Space. I may have mentioned that I had a blog in passing over a year ago, but I certainly never divulged the name or the server or anything about it whatsoever. However, I don't think that it would take a rocket scientist to find it if one wanted to --- just google my name and "blog" and there you be.

Don't know exactly how I feel about this --- what's done is done after all and there is SFA I can do about it now. If I am right, then he now knows EVERYTHING. great. fantastic. see I never got over you. happy about that?

I am really freaked out by this

S***!!!!!!!

I’m sitting on my couch in my favourite PJ’s, sipping Aveda comforting tea and watching some enlightening show on television.

The phone rings.

“Hi, it’s me”

“Oh, hi”

“How are you?”

“Great, you?”

At this point am wondering why he’s calling. Why now? Why tonight? Is it a purely “let’s catch up on what’s going on” phone call or is it a “I have a few minutes to kill while waiting for my toast to pop” phone call or is it a "does he want or need something from me" phone call? What?

“Um, can I come over?”

“Now? Like tonight”

“Um, yeah, if that’s okay”

Yeah, it’s like SO NOT okay. You broke my heart months ago, you bastard!!!! You continue to hold on to one little part of me and push and pull as it pleases you and so of course it’s not okay!!!!!

“Of course, if you don’t mind the pj’s”

“Not at all (laughs) I’ll be there in about 15 minutes”

“Great, see you then”

Panic sets in. Glasses on or off??? Keep the pj’s as is or swap the ratty t for a sexy cami and try and pull off the “this is what I always wear to bed” attitude?? Make more tea or just stay on the couch and barely move to open the door for him?? DAMN HIM TO HELL ALREADY!!!!!

Swapped the t for the cami, kept the glasses on, made more tea.

Knock on the door

“Hi”

Big hug

“you look beautiful”

“um, thanks” (blush, feel slightly uncomfortable)

“tea?”

“sure, thanks”

I hate when we are this stilted together. I want the close comfort that we had. And still have, sometimes. But not always. Like now.

We settle on the couch, at opposite ends

“So, what’s up”

“I miss you”

Yippee!! He misses me!! He misses me!! La la la la la la (Smurf song)

“Um, well, uh, I”

“I miss talking to you …”

“we talk all the time”

“you know what I mean. I miss being with you. Like this”

“That was your choice. You ‘weren’t ready for me’, remember? You ended things and moved on with HER. That was your choice”

“I know. And I’m sorry”

Oh. My. God.

How desperately I have wanted to hear those words!!!!! I love this man and have tried to stop loving and wanting this man but I just can’t. I love him. I can’t stop loving him. Or wanting him.

“What am I supposed to say to that?”

He just looks at me and takes my hand and draws me close and I’m not stopping him. I can’t stop him. I don’t want to stop him. I want him. I want his arms around me and I don’t ever want him to leave. I feel the tears running down my face and I feel warm and happy and safe and LOVED.

* EDIT: I was getting all sorts of emails from friends asking why in the hell I hadn't told them that this happened and I was quite puzzled --- it was a dream for crying out loud!!!! Wasn't that clear?? Apparently not. Seems I omitted this rather vital final sentence:

Then I woke up. My pillow damp with tears.

oops, sorry about that