A rare and decadent experience graced its presence in my life this morning. As LittleLady slept and Spitfire played with her car collection, I sipped Earl Grey Tea and watched Motherhood*. Yes, I live motherhood but I'm referring to the 2009 movie starring Uma Thurman and Minnie Driver. Uma's character, Eliza, a former ficion writer now keeps a mom blog entitled the Bjorn Identity and with the never ceasing demands of everyday mommyhood, she sneaks in moments here and there to showcase her thoughts.
Today's post though will not be about this movie, which has the hideous distinction of being one of the worst box office flops in Hollywood history. Instead, I'll focus on what I learned. I learned that taking the time to write doesn't have to be akin to a sacred religious experience. It just has to be a time to say what I want to say.
Which brings me to last night's birthday celebration at TEN restaurant. An ex-colleague, who I hadn't seen in almost a year graciously invited me and my spouse to attend her birthday soiree along with her boyfriend and their friends. Despite the group's mutual interest in talking food, wine, and then wine and more food; that wasn't the focus of the evening. After a fellow partygoer and myself sampled a chicken shnitzel that packed more lemon juice than what could be extracted from an entire lemon tree, we moved from culinary critique and got down to the business of making and building connections. As the Birthday Girl shared with me, there is always a certain feeling of trepidation to mixing groups of friends who are strangers to each other. You just don't know what's going to happen. I can certainly understand her point.
Food being off the ten mark, the chemistry of the group made up for it in spades. Raucous laughter rang out cheerfully as we clinked glasses and shared anecdotes and discussed serious current events such as the goings on of The Situation and Snooki of the Jersey Shore. OK. The truth is I was the only one in the group who watched the show but a the Birthday Girl diplomatically reassured me, even Leonardo DiCaprio watches the fistpumping, hairpoufing Guido/Guidette chronicles of GTL, so I'm in perfect ten company.
Indeed, it seems that I'm blessed with tens all around and am excited for the next opportunity to don stiletto heels, big earrings and dish on life.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
AWOL
With head hung low, cheeks burning red, I shamefully admit that I have been avoiding writing. I've been making the old excuses..too busy, not in the mood, can't think of what to say.
I came across an ex-fellow-Toastmaster's blog today and saw that he was entertaining the notion of writing a book but couldn't get his motivation going to do it. I was intrigued but also very much interested from a selfish viewpoint. I can relate to the lack of motivation. It's my current affliction and I've been avoiding treatment.
I'm even too lazy to contemplate the causes of the lack of motivation but I do recall this piece of advice I've been given over the past few months: writing is a job. I won't always like it. Even if I don't want to do it, I should make an attempt.
Previously I had written about the annoying bus commute from home to workplace and how it was leaving me nauseous, miserable and drained. Well, the technological issues were resolved quite some time ago and I'm now a tele-commuter. Essentially that barrier was removed and still I didn't jump at the chance to hit my blog the second work was over. Yes, I have young children and a spouse but yes, I also know and fully admit that I have opportunities to write, so why don't I?
Could it be the "who cares about what I have to say syndrome?" Perhaps. But ultimately it shoudn't and doesn't matter to me who reads or more accurately, does not read these entries.
I've got an idea going and I'm going to commit it to it as a task. A friend is having a birthday celebration this weekend. I'll write about it. With a task set out in writing, I'll be loathe to not follow through. I can describe what people wore, the food, the drink, the music, the general atmosphere, witty repartee with the waiter etc.
Until Saturday.
I came across an ex-fellow-Toastmaster's blog today and saw that he was entertaining the notion of writing a book but couldn't get his motivation going to do it. I was intrigued but also very much interested from a selfish viewpoint. I can relate to the lack of motivation. It's my current affliction and I've been avoiding treatment.
I'm even too lazy to contemplate the causes of the lack of motivation but I do recall this piece of advice I've been given over the past few months: writing is a job. I won't always like it. Even if I don't want to do it, I should make an attempt.
Previously I had written about the annoying bus commute from home to workplace and how it was leaving me nauseous, miserable and drained. Well, the technological issues were resolved quite some time ago and I'm now a tele-commuter. Essentially that barrier was removed and still I didn't jump at the chance to hit my blog the second work was over. Yes, I have young children and a spouse but yes, I also know and fully admit that I have opportunities to write, so why don't I?
Could it be the "who cares about what I have to say syndrome?" Perhaps. But ultimately it shoudn't and doesn't matter to me who reads or more accurately, does not read these entries.
I've got an idea going and I'm going to commit it to it as a task. A friend is having a birthday celebration this weekend. I'll write about it. With a task set out in writing, I'll be loathe to not follow through. I can describe what people wore, the food, the drink, the music, the general atmosphere, witty repartee with the waiter etc.
Until Saturday.
Monday, June 28, 2010
When it's over...who do you cheer for?
As a Portuguese Canadian, I am typecast as a Brazilian soccer fan. This is a tale from the other side.
"When it's over? Who do you cheer for?"
Although I have been confronted with this question many times over the years, today was the first time that I felt inspired to actually write about it. Like many beginnings, this one was not particularly glamourous. As I was on my way to the washroom, I overheard a colleague say to another, "I want to see a Brazil-Argentina final." My futebol self couldn't resist jumping right into the conversation. Eyes brimming large with excitement, I announced, "I'll tell you why I want to see Argetina in the final." A dramatic pause ensued (at least for me). "Because Maradona will run naked through the streets of Buenos Aires* if Argentina wins." That got their attention.
Colleague1 shrieked, "Really? Are you serious?" (Colleague1 is a Brazil fan) Colleague2 nodded in accordance with the truth spoken but retorted, "Oh, in that country, running naked through the streets will mean nothing. Nobody will care." Not having much intimate knowledge of Argentina's cultural norms, I couldn't refute Colleague2's statement yet I added, "Yeah, but think about the media scrum, the paparazzi arriving en masse. The international frenzy. It will be insane!" My colleagues smiled and then laughed.
Then I let out the statement that I knew would alter the mood. "As much as I would enjoy the Maradona show, actually I wouldn't really, I have to say that my team isn't Argentina but Portugal."
The inquisition was quickly organized. Colleague1 asked, "When Brazil and Portugal play against each other? Who do you cheer for? Both?" I quickly replied without hesitation, Portugal. I resisted the urge to say that the question was ridiculous considering I had just said I was a Portugal fan. Moving on with the checklist, Colleague2 presented his question, "If/when Portugal is eliminated, do you then cheer for Brazil?" With conviction, passion and a barely discernible note of irritation, I pledged my soccer allegiance to the land the Romans once called Portus Cale, "When Portugal's over then it's over." Colleague2 smiled brightly and said, "That's right!" I then added, "What I should have said was, I'll still follow the tournament for the sport itself but I'm no longer cheering for any team." Colleague2, obviously thrilled with my sense of priorities, blurted out, "Yeah! No taking down the Portuguese flag and replacing it with a Brazilian one." Straightening my back and my voice heavy with indignation, I replied, "I hate that!"
I'm not oblivious to how ignorant such a statement may seem. Of course I understand and respect that people have the right to cheer for their soccer heroes. I would be dishonest though if I didn't point out how much ridicule and criticism Portuguese people have faced over the widespread notion that the Portuguese will quickly ditch their red, green, and yellow coat of arms flag for the green and yellow ordem e progresso.
Recently, a friend and I were walking up and down the Danforth on a warm evening after a lovely dinner at Pan. I griped that I hated how everyone assumed that just because I was of Portuguese descent, I was labelled as a Brazilian soccer fan in hiding. She empathized but added, "Yeah but a lot of Portuguese people do cheer for Brazil." I knew she was speaking the truth. Putting aside the fact that I know that a lot of non-Brazilians cheer for Brazil and this often goes unchallenged; I have often tried to understand the reasons for the Portuguese love affair with Brasil's team of futebol dreams.
Some have suggested the colonial connection. I can't help thinking yeah, but, after 322 years of colonial rule under the Portuguese, the Brazilians achieved highly desired independence. I can't imagine a group of people who desperately wanted to sever ties with the colonizer being thrilled about its descendants whooping and hollering as Brazilian golos get through the opponent's net.
Then there's the same language argument. Several years ago, I recall sitting outside during a break at work and a colleague approached me out of the blue. The next thing I knew, I was being blasted with, "My friend was born and raised in Brazil and she doesn't understand why Portuguese people cheer for Brazil. Is it because of the same language? Well, if it is, that's a stupid reason." I was gobsmacked.
I've also heard about the family connection reason. Many Portuguese have family who immigrated to Brazil (I do as well on both my mother and father's side of the family). While that reason may be good enough for some, it's not good enough for me to personally join the samba squad supporting Brazilian soccer.
Tomorrow afternoon as Portugal plays its Iberian neighbour Spain for a spot in the final 8 of the FIFA World Cup, I'll be sitting in my cubicle working away, all the while silently wishing Portugal much força in this knock-out match.
**********************************************************
Maradona: I'll run naked if we win
http://soccernet.espn.go.com/world-cup/story/_/id/790643/ce/uk/&cc=5901?ver=us
"When it's over? Who do you cheer for?"
Although I have been confronted with this question many times over the years, today was the first time that I felt inspired to actually write about it. Like many beginnings, this one was not particularly glamourous. As I was on my way to the washroom, I overheard a colleague say to another, "I want to see a Brazil-Argentina final." My futebol self couldn't resist jumping right into the conversation. Eyes brimming large with excitement, I announced, "I'll tell you why I want to see Argetina in the final." A dramatic pause ensued (at least for me). "Because Maradona will run naked through the streets of Buenos Aires* if Argentina wins." That got their attention.
Colleague1 shrieked, "Really? Are you serious?" (Colleague1 is a Brazil fan) Colleague2 nodded in accordance with the truth spoken but retorted, "Oh, in that country, running naked through the streets will mean nothing. Nobody will care." Not having much intimate knowledge of Argentina's cultural norms, I couldn't refute Colleague2's statement yet I added, "Yeah, but think about the media scrum, the paparazzi arriving en masse. The international frenzy. It will be insane!" My colleagues smiled and then laughed.
Then I let out the statement that I knew would alter the mood. "As much as I would enjoy the Maradona show, actually I wouldn't really, I have to say that my team isn't Argentina but Portugal."
The inquisition was quickly organized. Colleague1 asked, "When Brazil and Portugal play against each other? Who do you cheer for? Both?" I quickly replied without hesitation, Portugal. I resisted the urge to say that the question was ridiculous considering I had just said I was a Portugal fan. Moving on with the checklist, Colleague2 presented his question, "If/when Portugal is eliminated, do you then cheer for Brazil?" With conviction, passion and a barely discernible note of irritation, I pledged my soccer allegiance to the land the Romans once called Portus Cale, "When Portugal's over then it's over." Colleague2 smiled brightly and said, "That's right!" I then added, "What I should have said was, I'll still follow the tournament for the sport itself but I'm no longer cheering for any team." Colleague2, obviously thrilled with my sense of priorities, blurted out, "Yeah! No taking down the Portuguese flag and replacing it with a Brazilian one." Straightening my back and my voice heavy with indignation, I replied, "I hate that!"
I'm not oblivious to how ignorant such a statement may seem. Of course I understand and respect that people have the right to cheer for their soccer heroes. I would be dishonest though if I didn't point out how much ridicule and criticism Portuguese people have faced over the widespread notion that the Portuguese will quickly ditch their red, green, and yellow coat of arms flag for the green and yellow ordem e progresso.
Recently, a friend and I were walking up and down the Danforth on a warm evening after a lovely dinner at Pan. I griped that I hated how everyone assumed that just because I was of Portuguese descent, I was labelled as a Brazilian soccer fan in hiding. She empathized but added, "Yeah but a lot of Portuguese people do cheer for Brazil." I knew she was speaking the truth. Putting aside the fact that I know that a lot of non-Brazilians cheer for Brazil and this often goes unchallenged; I have often tried to understand the reasons for the Portuguese love affair with Brasil's team of futebol dreams.
Some have suggested the colonial connection. I can't help thinking yeah, but, after 322 years of colonial rule under the Portuguese, the Brazilians achieved highly desired independence. I can't imagine a group of people who desperately wanted to sever ties with the colonizer being thrilled about its descendants whooping and hollering as Brazilian golos get through the opponent's net.
Then there's the same language argument. Several years ago, I recall sitting outside during a break at work and a colleague approached me out of the blue. The next thing I knew, I was being blasted with, "My friend was born and raised in Brazil and she doesn't understand why Portuguese people cheer for Brazil. Is it because of the same language? Well, if it is, that's a stupid reason." I was gobsmacked.
I've also heard about the family connection reason. Many Portuguese have family who immigrated to Brazil (I do as well on both my mother and father's side of the family). While that reason may be good enough for some, it's not good enough for me to personally join the samba squad supporting Brazilian soccer.
Tomorrow afternoon as Portugal plays its Iberian neighbour Spain for a spot in the final 8 of the FIFA World Cup, I'll be sitting in my cubicle working away, all the while silently wishing Portugal much força in this knock-out match.
**********************************************************
Maradona: I'll run naked if we win
http://soccernet.espn.go.com/world-cup/story/_/id/790643/ce/uk/&cc=5901?ver=us
Sunday, June 27, 2010
To mimosa or not to mimosa?
that is the question...
I used that line for my Facebook status this morning and thought I would run with it for a blog post.
Are my thoughts turning to bubbly fun in a glass because I actually feel a bit bad for England? Their 4-1 loss to Germany in the FIFA World Cup tournament has left me feeling somewhat uncomfortable but I'm not quite certain why. While I can appreciate a good game, I'm not a fan of either team. My futebol allegiance lies with Portugal.
What does all this have to do with mimosas? I'm not quite sure. Let me think about this. Nothing's coming to me. That's probably because I got sidetracked (guess my thoughts went offside) by soccer talk. Back to what really matters. The bubbly amusement.
I love mimosas so much that I'm surprised that I'm even questioning having one. As I've downed a water bottle, I've fantasized about the sweet spumante (the cheap stuff does the job very well for mixing), comingling with the citrus fruit juice and creating heaven in a glass. I've even tried a white beer/orange juice mimosa for brunch at Kalendar (Toronto) and was pleasantly surprised at how delightful the combination was.
On Facebook, I said I would wait until Argentina played Mexico today in the knock-out round of 16, but now that I've had a chance to sit down and actually think about the reasons why I love this pseudo cocktail, it strengthens my resolve. I'll test my powers of resisting temptation and will aim to wait until 2:30pm. Some might scoff and say there will be no golden trophy awarded for not having a drink now. I would politely disagre...the mimosa is a golden prize worth a little wait.
I used that line for my Facebook status this morning and thought I would run with it for a blog post.
Are my thoughts turning to bubbly fun in a glass because I actually feel a bit bad for England? Their 4-1 loss to Germany in the FIFA World Cup tournament has left me feeling somewhat uncomfortable but I'm not quite certain why. While I can appreciate a good game, I'm not a fan of either team. My futebol allegiance lies with Portugal.
What does all this have to do with mimosas? I'm not quite sure. Let me think about this. Nothing's coming to me. That's probably because I got sidetracked (guess my thoughts went offside) by soccer talk. Back to what really matters. The bubbly amusement.
I love mimosas so much that I'm surprised that I'm even questioning having one. As I've downed a water bottle, I've fantasized about the sweet spumante (the cheap stuff does the job very well for mixing), comingling with the citrus fruit juice and creating heaven in a glass. I've even tried a white beer/orange juice mimosa for brunch at Kalendar (Toronto) and was pleasantly surprised at how delightful the combination was.
On Facebook, I said I would wait until Argentina played Mexico today in the knock-out round of 16, but now that I've had a chance to sit down and actually think about the reasons why I love this pseudo cocktail, it strengthens my resolve. I'll test my powers of resisting temptation and will aim to wait until 2:30pm. Some might scoff and say there will be no golden trophy awarded for not having a drink now. I would politely disagre...the mimosa is a golden prize worth a little wait.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Family gatherings
Sounds like the title of a horror movie, doesn't it?
Devilishly I grin.
Kidding aside, today we held a family celebration to commemorate Spitfire's fourth birthday. Spitfire was quite involved in the planning of the event, even giving me a guest list of family members she wanted to invite. We had to chuckle with her providing us with a list of invitees but it was cute nonetheless.
She chose the theme: Lightning McQueen. The red animated race car was today's focal point for balloons and the kiddie table was adorned with the tablecloth, hats, napkins, and cups in homage to the Great McQueen. And I can't forget about the the cupcakes. At Spitfire's request, the icing was blue (as opposed to red) but the candles and decor pieces for the cupcakes were Lightning McQueen and his pal Mater. I was terrified of doing the cupcakes from scratch, dying the icing blue and gasp, actually icing the tiny cakes, but somehow I pulled it off. Heck, I even enjoyed it. Already, I'm thinking of an excuse to make cupcakes again...
Anyway, I digress. Back to the family in family gatherings. A family gathering wouldn't be complete without my sister announcing she'll arrive at one time and then actually arriving at another. When my sister called today saying that she'd be at our place at around 2:30-3:00pm (the party actually started at 5pm), to hang out with the girls for a bit, I automatically assumed she meant 2:30pm the next day. Cynical, you might say? Realistic and experienced in the ways of my sister, I would respond. My sister operates in a time zone very unique and special to her. Today, she arrived at 4:45pm. Early for the party so we'll just forget about the original 2:30pm arrival cuz hey, she was still today's first guest.
One by one, the members of the tribe knocked on the door and made their way in. Some opted for passionfruit punch and others opted for a more racy mango sangria to quench their thirst. All the while beer bottles accumulated. With skewered BBQ shrimp up for grabs during cocktail hour, the party was off to a good start.
If this were a sitcom, things wouldn't stay that way. There would be meltdowns, petty disagreements, and all around "American TV Thanksgiving discord" but such was not the case today.
As the hostess, I was pretty relaxed. Or so I felt. Only my guests could say for sure. I felt that way because I was prepared. As the guests arrived, I was holding a glass of sangria in one hand and offering drinks with the other.
Spitfire was a ball of energy which isn't anything out of the ordinary but her happiness was all apparent. Usually not one to play up to the camera, today she was thrusting her shoulders forward, snapping on a huge blue icing smile and giggling mischievously as she'd bite on the (non edible) Mater toy that served as a cupcake topper.
It was bliss for Spitfire and in turn, it's bliss for her proud big sis, LittleLady. With their baby cousin running around in her pinktastic ballet tutu dress, Spitfire and LittleLady were in their own happy place. Sure, there was some gleeful shrieking, and I mean a lot of it but such comes with the territory.
Maybe it's the early morning hour (almost 1:30am) or maybe I've had one too many sparkling mango sangrias but I can't wait to host the next get together. Doesn't Mr. Unfazed have a birthday coming up in August???
Devilishly I grin.
Kidding aside, today we held a family celebration to commemorate Spitfire's fourth birthday. Spitfire was quite involved in the planning of the event, even giving me a guest list of family members she wanted to invite. We had to chuckle with her providing us with a list of invitees but it was cute nonetheless.
She chose the theme: Lightning McQueen. The red animated race car was today's focal point for balloons and the kiddie table was adorned with the tablecloth, hats, napkins, and cups in homage to the Great McQueen. And I can't forget about the the cupcakes. At Spitfire's request, the icing was blue (as opposed to red) but the candles and decor pieces for the cupcakes were Lightning McQueen and his pal Mater. I was terrified of doing the cupcakes from scratch, dying the icing blue and gasp, actually icing the tiny cakes, but somehow I pulled it off. Heck, I even enjoyed it. Already, I'm thinking of an excuse to make cupcakes again...
Anyway, I digress. Back to the family in family gatherings. A family gathering wouldn't be complete without my sister announcing she'll arrive at one time and then actually arriving at another. When my sister called today saying that she'd be at our place at around 2:30-3:00pm (the party actually started at 5pm), to hang out with the girls for a bit, I automatically assumed she meant 2:30pm the next day. Cynical, you might say? Realistic and experienced in the ways of my sister, I would respond. My sister operates in a time zone very unique and special to her. Today, she arrived at 4:45pm. Early for the party so we'll just forget about the original 2:30pm arrival cuz hey, she was still today's first guest.
One by one, the members of the tribe knocked on the door and made their way in. Some opted for passionfruit punch and others opted for a more racy mango sangria to quench their thirst. All the while beer bottles accumulated. With skewered BBQ shrimp up for grabs during cocktail hour, the party was off to a good start.
If this were a sitcom, things wouldn't stay that way. There would be meltdowns, petty disagreements, and all around "American TV Thanksgiving discord" but such was not the case today.
As the hostess, I was pretty relaxed. Or so I felt. Only my guests could say for sure. I felt that way because I was prepared. As the guests arrived, I was holding a glass of sangria in one hand and offering drinks with the other.
Spitfire was a ball of energy which isn't anything out of the ordinary but her happiness was all apparent. Usually not one to play up to the camera, today she was thrusting her shoulders forward, snapping on a huge blue icing smile and giggling mischievously as she'd bite on the (non edible) Mater toy that served as a cupcake topper.
It was bliss for Spitfire and in turn, it's bliss for her proud big sis, LittleLady. With their baby cousin running around in her pinktastic ballet tutu dress, Spitfire and LittleLady were in their own happy place. Sure, there was some gleeful shrieking, and I mean a lot of it but such comes with the territory.
Maybe it's the early morning hour (almost 1:30am) or maybe I've had one too many sparkling mango sangrias but I can't wait to host the next get together. Doesn't Mr. Unfazed have a birthday coming up in August???
Saturday, May 22, 2010
The Great Indoors
My daughters, who are usually fairly calm (or so I like to dream), are suffering from a classic case of cabin fever. It's a rainy Saturday afternoon and because LittleLady had a class until 3:30pm, (and that was early dismissal, normally the class runs until 4pm), the prospect of going somewhere far to entertain Spitfire was not in the cards.
Mr. Unfazed picked up LittleLady from class and took her on a quick shopping trip, as he was having dreams of BBQ pizza in his head, he needed supplies. He tells me that LittleLady threw a fit in the store because she wanted an extra sample of the juice being promoted. That seemed a bit odd to me but I shrugged it off. What I didn't realize was that the bigger scene was yet to unveil itself.
Earlier today, the girls had a hair trim. Actually, what they had was corrective surgery to repair the damage to their bangs that their beloved Vovó* (my mother), did to them earlier this week. Like my mother, I possess zero hair cutting talent. Unlike my mother, I am well aware of my shortcomings and leave hair cutting to the professionals. At the end of the haircutting experience, the girls received their reward: a lollypop (yeah, I know, I wasn't thrilled about it either), and a spin toy. The yellow animal inspired spin toys looked identical as far as Mr. Unfazed and I were concerned.
You know what's coming, right? The toys were not identical. One toy had circular shaped ears an the other had triangular shaped ears. Spitfire claimed that the circular one was hers. LittleLady made the same claim. A full-on "Jerry Springer For Tots" episode ensued. Why chairs didn't start flying in the air, I'll never know. Heated accusations spewed from the tiny mouth of Spitfire, her hazel eyes widening in disgust. LittleLady smirked at Spitfire's attempts at a throwdown and using her height to her advantage, looked down at Spitfire and said mischievously, "It's really mine." Seeing a tragic end to this mini-drama, Mr. Unfazed stepped in and took both spin toys away. I attempted to play Queen Solomon and declared, "I will cut the toys in half. Now whose toy is it really?" Without skipping a beat, both suspects raised their hands straight in the air. So much for ancient wisdom.
Discouraged but not defeated, I announced that the toys would soon be joining the blue bin gods. That worked. The little angels *cough* huddled together and brokered an agreement through stage whispers. LittleLady playing ambassador stated, "We will share the toy."
As I've been typing away, the toy appears to have dropped in market value, and the girls have moved on to other interests and complaints. The whiny question, "Why can't I watch a video?" is my personal unfavourite. Attention being diverted to crafts, Mr. Unfazed and I hope to enjoy the rest of the UEFA Championship League playing in the background. We had kind of forgotten about it. Real-life drama is so much better.
*Vovó means grandmother in Portuguese.
Mr. Unfazed picked up LittleLady from class and took her on a quick shopping trip, as he was having dreams of BBQ pizza in his head, he needed supplies. He tells me that LittleLady threw a fit in the store because she wanted an extra sample of the juice being promoted. That seemed a bit odd to me but I shrugged it off. What I didn't realize was that the bigger scene was yet to unveil itself.
Earlier today, the girls had a hair trim. Actually, what they had was corrective surgery to repair the damage to their bangs that their beloved Vovó* (my mother), did to them earlier this week. Like my mother, I possess zero hair cutting talent. Unlike my mother, I am well aware of my shortcomings and leave hair cutting to the professionals. At the end of the haircutting experience, the girls received their reward: a lollypop (yeah, I know, I wasn't thrilled about it either), and a spin toy. The yellow animal inspired spin toys looked identical as far as Mr. Unfazed and I were concerned.
You know what's coming, right? The toys were not identical. One toy had circular shaped ears an the other had triangular shaped ears. Spitfire claimed that the circular one was hers. LittleLady made the same claim. A full-on "Jerry Springer For Tots" episode ensued. Why chairs didn't start flying in the air, I'll never know. Heated accusations spewed from the tiny mouth of Spitfire, her hazel eyes widening in disgust. LittleLady smirked at Spitfire's attempts at a throwdown and using her height to her advantage, looked down at Spitfire and said mischievously, "It's really mine." Seeing a tragic end to this mini-drama, Mr. Unfazed stepped in and took both spin toys away. I attempted to play Queen Solomon and declared, "I will cut the toys in half. Now whose toy is it really?" Without skipping a beat, both suspects raised their hands straight in the air. So much for ancient wisdom.
Discouraged but not defeated, I announced that the toys would soon be joining the blue bin gods. That worked. The little angels *cough* huddled together and brokered an agreement through stage whispers. LittleLady playing ambassador stated, "We will share the toy."
As I've been typing away, the toy appears to have dropped in market value, and the girls have moved on to other interests and complaints. The whiny question, "Why can't I watch a video?" is my personal unfavourite. Attention being diverted to crafts, Mr. Unfazed and I hope to enjoy the rest of the UEFA Championship League playing in the background. We had kind of forgotten about it. Real-life drama is so much better.
*Vovó means grandmother in Portuguese.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
It's been a long time comin'...
Only Gordon Downies from the Tragically Hip can sing that line to perfection. He exudes such a sexiness. Even now, as I think about it, I get the shivers like the 19-year old girl I once was.
After such a lead in, to launch a discourse on how negligent I've been with my writing seems disappointing. But it wouldn't be the first time that I've disappointed and I'd hate to tarnish my stellar track record.
In messaging a friend via Facebook this morning, I mentioned that I haven't been writing due to tiredness. Yes, I was wincing at myself for projecting such a cheap and flimsy excuse. We're all tired, we're all busy. As someone recently said to me, "Nobody has the monopoly on being busy, we're all busy." Wise words and I hold them dear to my heart. But not just dear to my heart in an airy-fairy way, I need to hold them dear to practice.
I can explain what's happened recently. I started a job 1 month ago - a consulting position. The commute from home to workplace is 3 hours/day. Originally, I was to only train onsite for a 2 week period and then start working from home. This hasn't happened due to technical obstacles beyond comprehension. I'm not the only person affected. This is a company wide known problem. Despite valiant attempts from my manager to escalate the matter, the issue regarding my remote access continues to elude, fascinate, and frustate. While at times I've been disheartened, I know that there will be a resolution.
Which brings me to the necessary commute. I don't mind the bus ride in the morning. I sip my coffee, look at the window, text, Facebook, IPOD, read magazines, read books and generally feel a sense of purpose as the wheels on the bus move toward the building. Besides, I really like, heck love, the work. It's a good fit. My colleagues are bright, witty, and focused on their work too.
Coming home on the bus is not so enjoyable. I really hate it. For some reason, the wheels don't seem to move along so smoothly. I get nauseous, irritable, and am drained of energy. I tried to bring my mini laptop with me a few times to get back to writing and it was a dismal failure of an experiment. I wrote a few paragraphs for a future Toastmasters speech and then gave up after my head started spinning and I feared the wrath of the nausea gods.
Truthfully, I don't know how to mitigate my adverse reaction to the evening commute. I've fantasized about taking sleeping pills so I can snooze through the ride (there ain't no way I'm falling asleep on my own...I possess no such ability to sleep on command), but I know that's not a serious answer. Is it psychological? Would counselling help? Yes, I'm laughing, well smirking, as I type this. I'm stumped here - I'll take suggestions.
After such a lead in, to launch a discourse on how negligent I've been with my writing seems disappointing. But it wouldn't be the first time that I've disappointed and I'd hate to tarnish my stellar track record.
In messaging a friend via Facebook this morning, I mentioned that I haven't been writing due to tiredness. Yes, I was wincing at myself for projecting such a cheap and flimsy excuse. We're all tired, we're all busy. As someone recently said to me, "Nobody has the monopoly on being busy, we're all busy." Wise words and I hold them dear to my heart. But not just dear to my heart in an airy-fairy way, I need to hold them dear to practice.
I can explain what's happened recently. I started a job 1 month ago - a consulting position. The commute from home to workplace is 3 hours/day. Originally, I was to only train onsite for a 2 week period and then start working from home. This hasn't happened due to technical obstacles beyond comprehension. I'm not the only person affected. This is a company wide known problem. Despite valiant attempts from my manager to escalate the matter, the issue regarding my remote access continues to elude, fascinate, and frustate. While at times I've been disheartened, I know that there will be a resolution.
Which brings me to the necessary commute. I don't mind the bus ride in the morning. I sip my coffee, look at the window, text, Facebook, IPOD, read magazines, read books and generally feel a sense of purpose as the wheels on the bus move toward the building. Besides, I really like, heck love, the work. It's a good fit. My colleagues are bright, witty, and focused on their work too.
Coming home on the bus is not so enjoyable. I really hate it. For some reason, the wheels don't seem to move along so smoothly. I get nauseous, irritable, and am drained of energy. I tried to bring my mini laptop with me a few times to get back to writing and it was a dismal failure of an experiment. I wrote a few paragraphs for a future Toastmasters speech and then gave up after my head started spinning and I feared the wrath of the nausea gods.
Truthfully, I don't know how to mitigate my adverse reaction to the evening commute. I've fantasized about taking sleeping pills so I can snooze through the ride (there ain't no way I'm falling asleep on my own...I possess no such ability to sleep on command), but I know that's not a serious answer. Is it psychological? Would counselling help? Yes, I'm laughing, well smirking, as I type this. I'm stumped here - I'll take suggestions.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Hitting that...y'know, the keyboard.
I need to hit that.
Having to hit the keyboard all day due to my job, I admit that my zeal to enter the blog world is waning rapidly. This is of grave concern to me. Writing is important. I don't want the opportunities to write to slip away into oblivion.
Once again I find myself in the familiar routine of being able to write business correspondence efficiently and accurately (or so I think, ha ha), but my energy to write non-business correspondence is on the decline. I know that when I think about it (and I did as I took the commuter bus from North York to Mississauga today) that there are a lot of things that I could write about. Like what? Well, my husband's (Mr. Unfazed), father is having surgery tomorrow. I could write about my observations of the family coping and the need for strength and staying together. That's one idea which I'll run by Mr. Unfazed and see if he's OK with it.
I could also write about the adjustment of returning to work after an almost 6 month leave. The fact that I wasn't even actively looking to reenter the workplace has certainly had an impact on my perspective and emotions which I could explore further.
How about the books that I'm reading? I recently finished reading "Bergdorf Blondes" by Plum Sykes - a 2004 satirical view into the lives of the privileged Manhattan elite. I've read similar themed books in the past but this particular work had me enthralled and mesmerized by its hilarity. Thinking of my own middle-class suburban existence, I smiled to myself as I compared the complicated and extravagant lives of the rich. Deviously I wondered if the "appalling dreariness" (not what I really think, just imagining what the other side would think) of my life would trigger a myocardial infarcation for some of these high society ladies.
My BlackBerry just buzzed and compulsively, I checked the message. Mr. Unfazed and I may pop over to Moxies (the little ladies are with my mother tonight) for a drink and to unwind. I could write about my experience there. The drinks, the ambiance, the scene. Or, I could write about how I'd prefer a night at home for rest and relaxation not to mention it would be easier on the wallet. Mr. Unfazed just called. He agrees. A night at home makes sense. Off I go to pop in the appetizers.
Lots to hit that keyboard with. Loads.
Having to hit the keyboard all day due to my job, I admit that my zeal to enter the blog world is waning rapidly. This is of grave concern to me. Writing is important. I don't want the opportunities to write to slip away into oblivion.
Once again I find myself in the familiar routine of being able to write business correspondence efficiently and accurately (or so I think, ha ha), but my energy to write non-business correspondence is on the decline. I know that when I think about it (and I did as I took the commuter bus from North York to Mississauga today) that there are a lot of things that I could write about. Like what? Well, my husband's (Mr. Unfazed), father is having surgery tomorrow. I could write about my observations of the family coping and the need for strength and staying together. That's one idea which I'll run by Mr. Unfazed and see if he's OK with it.
I could also write about the adjustment of returning to work after an almost 6 month leave. The fact that I wasn't even actively looking to reenter the workplace has certainly had an impact on my perspective and emotions which I could explore further.
How about the books that I'm reading? I recently finished reading "Bergdorf Blondes" by Plum Sykes - a 2004 satirical view into the lives of the privileged Manhattan elite. I've read similar themed books in the past but this particular work had me enthralled and mesmerized by its hilarity. Thinking of my own middle-class suburban existence, I smiled to myself as I compared the complicated and extravagant lives of the rich. Deviously I wondered if the "appalling dreariness" (not what I really think, just imagining what the other side would think) of my life would trigger a myocardial infarcation for some of these high society ladies.
My BlackBerry just buzzed and compulsively, I checked the message. Mr. Unfazed and I may pop over to Moxies (the little ladies are with my mother tonight) for a drink and to unwind. I could write about my experience there. The drinks, the ambiance, the scene. Or, I could write about how I'd prefer a night at home for rest and relaxation not to mention it would be easier on the wallet. Mr. Unfazed just called. He agrees. A night at home makes sense. Off I go to pop in the appetizers.
Lots to hit that keyboard with. Loads.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
The Job and The Weekend
A common trap that I seem to fall into is avoiding writing whenever my life gets busier. Scratch that, the "busy-ness" isn't so much the barrier as is a job outside of the home. I originally set up this blog account over two years ago entitled "Eu escrevo" (meaning "I write" in Portuguese). Ironically, I didn't post a single word in any recognizable language to the public. I barely posted a word in the secrecy of the draft folder. I convinced myself that I couldn't spare any time to write so I didn't. To say that I regret my actions would be untrue. The truth is that I learned from them.
By taking some time to write on this pleasant Sunday night, I am preserving memories. A gratifying feeling.
Not so new job
In a previous blog, I wrote about an opportunity to work at home for another company. Not a week after I started that job was I given an even more attractive opportunity from a former employer. I would retrain onsite for a couple of weeks and then work from home having to only go in once bi-weekly for team meetings. I couldn't pass it up. While I wasn't looking for new work, this opportunity appeared to embody the work/life balance that I sought. I said yes.
After an hour plus bus ride from Homestead to Workplace, I quickly walked to the office building eager to meet my new boss and retrain. New Boss put me at ease right away and brought me over to My Trainer. My Trainer, who was previously my team lead when I last worked there, set to task right away with getting me back into the role. Having worked in the department before, I remembered the basics of the plan, the preferences of the client, and even had print screens dancing in my head of the software program used. I was relieved when it seemed that my memory had not failed me. There were some changes but they were minor and more administrative as opposed to groundbreaking. I hope that I don't live to regret my words and as I become more and more entrenched in the role again, I won't suddenly feel like I've arrived on an alien planet.
The Weekend
Realizing that by accepting a new job, I was bidding adieu to "time away" flexibility, I suggested to Mr. Unfazed that we do a quick family getaway to one of our favourite spots - Niagara. After soliciting recommendations on Facebook, we decided on the Americana Conference Resort & Spa. Our decision factors: indoor water park, decent package price for room and water park access, and oh, yeah, frolicking at the water park.
We were not disappointed. The girls loved it. LittleLady is tall enough to go on the body slide by herself and was very proud to do so. Spitfire had a blast tubing at alternate turns with Mr. Unfazed and I. Of course, I would be lying by omission if I didn't admit how much Mr. Unfazed and I enjoyed ourselves there. We are unashamedly kids in adult bodies and it doesn't look like that will change anytime soon. Nor would we want it too. Each time LittleLady and I went down the tube slide, we'd holler "Batman!!!" in the manner of the 1960s TV show at the top of our lungs.
Food was a part of the trip but not an integral one. The bonding was far more important. I must mention though the Monticello Grille House and Wine Bar. Not only is it a classy establishment with decent food and good service, it also featured an incredible kids deal. $2 for pasta and meatballs. The kids meal deal sign brought us into the restaurant and we had our preconceived notions about the place but we were wrong. The kids meal deal did not take away from the warmth of the fireplace, the sophistication of the ambiance and the juiciness of my prime rib dinner. Mr. Unfazed ordered the grilled snapper and was quite pleased. As for the little ladies, a little pasta was all they needed but of course, their stomachs found a way to make room for ice cream.
Another spot worth mentioning is The Butterfly Conservatory. Just taking in the sights of the gushing mini waterfalls and the kaleidoscope of colours as the butterflies flutter about; evokes a sense of profound peace. I remember sitting on a bench, looking up and seeing the magic of the flying creatures around me and I didn't want to leave. Already I'm planning my next trip there.
We are thinking Niagara will be the spot to celebrate my next birthday. February can't come soon enough.
By taking some time to write on this pleasant Sunday night, I am preserving memories. A gratifying feeling.
Not so new job
In a previous blog, I wrote about an opportunity to work at home for another company. Not a week after I started that job was I given an even more attractive opportunity from a former employer. I would retrain onsite for a couple of weeks and then work from home having to only go in once bi-weekly for team meetings. I couldn't pass it up. While I wasn't looking for new work, this opportunity appeared to embody the work/life balance that I sought. I said yes.
After an hour plus bus ride from Homestead to Workplace, I quickly walked to the office building eager to meet my new boss and retrain. New Boss put me at ease right away and brought me over to My Trainer. My Trainer, who was previously my team lead when I last worked there, set to task right away with getting me back into the role. Having worked in the department before, I remembered the basics of the plan, the preferences of the client, and even had print screens dancing in my head of the software program used. I was relieved when it seemed that my memory had not failed me. There were some changes but they were minor and more administrative as opposed to groundbreaking. I hope that I don't live to regret my words and as I become more and more entrenched in the role again, I won't suddenly feel like I've arrived on an alien planet.
The Weekend
Realizing that by accepting a new job, I was bidding adieu to "time away" flexibility, I suggested to Mr. Unfazed that we do a quick family getaway to one of our favourite spots - Niagara. After soliciting recommendations on Facebook, we decided on the Americana Conference Resort & Spa. Our decision factors: indoor water park, decent package price for room and water park access, and oh, yeah, frolicking at the water park.
We were not disappointed. The girls loved it. LittleLady is tall enough to go on the body slide by herself and was very proud to do so. Spitfire had a blast tubing at alternate turns with Mr. Unfazed and I. Of course, I would be lying by omission if I didn't admit how much Mr. Unfazed and I enjoyed ourselves there. We are unashamedly kids in adult bodies and it doesn't look like that will change anytime soon. Nor would we want it too. Each time LittleLady and I went down the tube slide, we'd holler "Batman!!!" in the manner of the 1960s TV show at the top of our lungs.
Food was a part of the trip but not an integral one. The bonding was far more important. I must mention though the Monticello Grille House and Wine Bar. Not only is it a classy establishment with decent food and good service, it also featured an incredible kids deal. $2 for pasta and meatballs. The kids meal deal sign brought us into the restaurant and we had our preconceived notions about the place but we were wrong. The kids meal deal did not take away from the warmth of the fireplace, the sophistication of the ambiance and the juiciness of my prime rib dinner. Mr. Unfazed ordered the grilled snapper and was quite pleased. As for the little ladies, a little pasta was all they needed but of course, their stomachs found a way to make room for ice cream.
Another spot worth mentioning is The Butterfly Conservatory. Just taking in the sights of the gushing mini waterfalls and the kaleidoscope of colours as the butterflies flutter about; evokes a sense of profound peace. I remember sitting on a bench, looking up and seeing the magic of the flying creatures around me and I didn't want to leave. Already I'm planning my next trip there.
We are thinking Niagara will be the spot to celebrate my next birthday. February can't come soon enough.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Spring Cleaning...Just a Sweep Away
Toastmasters Speech 8 from the Competent Communicator Manual - "Get Comfortable with Visual Aids."
Have you ever wondered how you'd feel if you'd just dust off that table? Reach up and sweep out those cobwebs in the ceiling? Run a powerful vacuum over those neglected tresses of carpet? Well, wonder no more. Today, I intend to convince you to embrace spring cleaning for all of the immense advantages it can provide.
Good afternoon Toastmaster Chair, Fellow Toastmasters and Most Welcome Guests.
With the winter season now in our rear-view mirrors, we embrace the signs of spring. The loss of that chill in the air, the growing brightness of the sun's rays, and the happy chirping of birds as they belt out their song.
In our society, springtime carries a certain obligation. We can no longer use the dark grey winter skies to mask the dust bunnies that grow wild in our laundry room, or ignore how the crystal in our dining room chandeliers has lost its sparkling lustre. Somehow, we sense it and we know. It's time to welcome the spring season with ritual cleaning.
Has anyone here ever quietly pondered where this ritual came from but was too afraid to ask? Ponder quietly in shame no more. According to Suite101.Com, one theory is that spring cleaning is thought to date back to the Jewish rite of Passover, with respect to families clearing out their households of any leavened bread in preparation for the holiday. Another theory is that it stems from the Persian New Year Celebration, whereby families clean everything in their homes - also known as "shaking the house."
I am here to tell you that spring cleaning need not be a dreaded, unglamorous chore. It can bring you great benefits. The first, you will feel invigorated. Imagine how virile you will feel after washing down those grimy windows, those very same windows which have taken a brutal assault from Old Man Winter. Having conquered the windows, you move on to cleaning the ceiling fan, with renewed strength, you tackle those blades, one by one.
Very obviously, there is a second benefit to the spring cleaning process which goes hand in hand with all of that bursting vigour; it is the exercise you're doing. Cleaning the carpet and rugs requires constant movement, not to mention arm and leg coordination. With all of that activity going on, you are bound to give your heart and lungs a good workout. The experts over at the Mayo Clinic point out that physical activity can help you ward off diseases such as Type II diabetes, osteoporosis and even certain types of cancer.
What happens when you exercise? You feel better and the vanity gods are begging me to say...you look better; which brings me to benefit number three. After all, you've built up quite a workout routine, one that would rival any celebrity DVD out there, and for you astute marketers out there, think of the unique branding possibilities: I’m not just a Toastmaster but a Spring Cleaning Fitness Guru too. We’ll need to work on that title.
From the vigorous window washing, precise yet intense ceiling fan blade cleaning, carpet and rug scouring, and knowing how much enjoyment you must have felt from those accomplishments, you probably meticulously cleaned the grout on your bathroom tiles with a toothbrush. By now, you must be looking as fit as Arnold Schwarzenegger or Madonna. Your spring cleaning efforts have borne fruit - you are looking better and dare I say it, younger. Who remembers that Oil of Olay commercial from 1989 with the military pilot and his former teacher? Well, if you don't, I will provide the gist. A striking woman walks through an aircraft hangar and is recognized by a pilot. With bravado, he tells her that "you were in my class." She replies with haughty sophistication, "I was your teacher." Now, wouldn't such an encounter feel great? It can happen...when you start spring cleaning.
A time honoured tradition, with deep historical roots, the spring cleaning ceremony is one to be taken on and entered into with great joy and expectation. The simple tasks of vacuuming, window washing, and dust bunny busting; will reap unimaginable rewards. I urge to you to make haste and not delay in throwing yourself with jubilant abandon into this ritual. Do the tango with your feather duster, run free with your vacuum, hop and skip with your broom. An invigorated, fit, more youthful you is just a sweep away.
Have you ever wondered how you'd feel if you'd just dust off that table? Reach up and sweep out those cobwebs in the ceiling? Run a powerful vacuum over those neglected tresses of carpet? Well, wonder no more. Today, I intend to convince you to embrace spring cleaning for all of the immense advantages it can provide.
Good afternoon Toastmaster Chair, Fellow Toastmasters and Most Welcome Guests.
With the winter season now in our rear-view mirrors, we embrace the signs of spring. The loss of that chill in the air, the growing brightness of the sun's rays, and the happy chirping of birds as they belt out their song.
In our society, springtime carries a certain obligation. We can no longer use the dark grey winter skies to mask the dust bunnies that grow wild in our laundry room, or ignore how the crystal in our dining room chandeliers has lost its sparkling lustre. Somehow, we sense it and we know. It's time to welcome the spring season with ritual cleaning.
Has anyone here ever quietly pondered where this ritual came from but was too afraid to ask? Ponder quietly in shame no more. According to Suite101.Com, one theory is that spring cleaning is thought to date back to the Jewish rite of Passover, with respect to families clearing out their households of any leavened bread in preparation for the holiday. Another theory is that it stems from the Persian New Year Celebration, whereby families clean everything in their homes - also known as "shaking the house."
I am here to tell you that spring cleaning need not be a dreaded, unglamorous chore. It can bring you great benefits. The first, you will feel invigorated. Imagine how virile you will feel after washing down those grimy windows, those very same windows which have taken a brutal assault from Old Man Winter. Having conquered the windows, you move on to cleaning the ceiling fan, with renewed strength, you tackle those blades, one by one.
Very obviously, there is a second benefit to the spring cleaning process which goes hand in hand with all of that bursting vigour; it is the exercise you're doing. Cleaning the carpet and rugs requires constant movement, not to mention arm and leg coordination. With all of that activity going on, you are bound to give your heart and lungs a good workout. The experts over at the Mayo Clinic point out that physical activity can help you ward off diseases such as Type II diabetes, osteoporosis and even certain types of cancer.
What happens when you exercise? You feel better and the vanity gods are begging me to say...you look better; which brings me to benefit number three. After all, you've built up quite a workout routine, one that would rival any celebrity DVD out there, and for you astute marketers out there, think of the unique branding possibilities: I’m not just a Toastmaster but a Spring Cleaning Fitness Guru too. We’ll need to work on that title.
From the vigorous window washing, precise yet intense ceiling fan blade cleaning, carpet and rug scouring, and knowing how much enjoyment you must have felt from those accomplishments, you probably meticulously cleaned the grout on your bathroom tiles with a toothbrush. By now, you must be looking as fit as Arnold Schwarzenegger or Madonna. Your spring cleaning efforts have borne fruit - you are looking better and dare I say it, younger. Who remembers that Oil of Olay commercial from 1989 with the military pilot and his former teacher? Well, if you don't, I will provide the gist. A striking woman walks through an aircraft hangar and is recognized by a pilot. With bravado, he tells her that "you were in my class." She replies with haughty sophistication, "I was your teacher." Now, wouldn't such an encounter feel great? It can happen...when you start spring cleaning.
A time honoured tradition, with deep historical roots, the spring cleaning ceremony is one to be taken on and entered into with great joy and expectation. The simple tasks of vacuuming, window washing, and dust bunny busting; will reap unimaginable rewards. I urge to you to make haste and not delay in throwing yourself with jubilant abandon into this ritual. Do the tango with your feather duster, run free with your vacuum, hop and skip with your broom. An invigorated, fit, more youthful you is just a sweep away.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Martinis, Chocolate Mousse Cake and Desperate Housewives
A friend and I have been meaning to get together for some time. We were colleagues at my former workplace and as fate would have it, have discovered post-work-relationship that we have a lot more in common than we had originally imagined. Turns out we have similar styles in parenting (food choices, activities) and even our own personal interests are more aligned than we had realized.
We did a late evening coffee meet at Starbucks a few months back and had such a good time and intended to have more get togethers but you know how the story goes...life gets busy and get togethers get put on hold.
A few days ago, as we were messaging each other over Facebook to make plans for a Sunday night coffee, a thought suddenly occured to me. Why not have coffee at my place? And if she was a Desperate Housewives watcher, then we could watch it at my place. But if not, no worries, I could PVR the episode. Comedically enough, she responded back with yes, she was a Desperate Housewives fan and had thought the same thing...she would be missing Desperate Housewives to meet up with me but was willing to PVR it. I got inspired...a Desperate Housewives meet called for decadence. I suggested chocolate truffle cake and martinis. My friend responded with glee. It was a date.
This morning, I ended up buying a chocolate mousse cake (was at Costco and couldn't resist the good price on it). So here I am waiting for her to arrive within the hour. Should be a good time. I mean, how can you go wrong with trash TV, martinis and chocolate? It's a good time waiting to happen.
ETA: Just found out DHW is not on tonight. But I'll still have my cake and my martinis too!
We did a late evening coffee meet at Starbucks a few months back and had such a good time and intended to have more get togethers but you know how the story goes...life gets busy and get togethers get put on hold.
A few days ago, as we were messaging each other over Facebook to make plans for a Sunday night coffee, a thought suddenly occured to me. Why not have coffee at my place? And if she was a Desperate Housewives watcher, then we could watch it at my place. But if not, no worries, I could PVR the episode. Comedically enough, she responded back with yes, she was a Desperate Housewives fan and had thought the same thing...she would be missing Desperate Housewives to meet up with me but was willing to PVR it. I got inspired...a Desperate Housewives meet called for decadence. I suggested chocolate truffle cake and martinis. My friend responded with glee. It was a date.
This morning, I ended up buying a chocolate mousse cake (was at Costco and couldn't resist the good price on it). So here I am waiting for her to arrive within the hour. Should be a good time. I mean, how can you go wrong with trash TV, martinis and chocolate? It's a good time waiting to happen.
ETA: Just found out DHW is not on tonight. But I'll still have my cake and my martinis too!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Veni, Vidi, La Fenice
Good food, good friends, and good times. Such was the recipe of yesterday's delightful dinner.
A good night out may require research, planning, and organization. Our delectable culinary experience at La Fenice yesterday evening, an Italian restaurant in Toronto's theatre district, was proof of such a theory.
Fortunately for Mr. Unfazed and I, the heavy duty tasks of the research and development aspect of the project were handled by a lovely couple who we are proud to call our friends. Since we had all agreed that a night out was in order, Lovely Couple recommended La Fenice, an award winning restaurant laying claim to being "the most authentic Italian restaurant in Toronto." (www.lafenice.com)
While I lack the requisite skills in determining the venue's authenticity, my eyes took in the simple and tasteful decor aglow by candlelight. As for my tastebuds, they can attest to the flavours and freshness in the dishes I devoured yesterday. Of course, there was a little vino to start. Having eyed the Pinot Grigio on the menu, a dry Italian wine yet rich in fruity flavours, my decision was solidified when our waiter recommended the very same wine to my friend.
A little mix-up occurred when a bottle of Birra Moretti* appeared before me, the same beer that Mr. Unfazed ordered for himself, citing that his opportunities to drink Italian beer are usually limited. While I applaud Mr. Unfazed on his "carpe birra", not being a beer drinker myself, I smiled politely as I sent back the pale lager.
As we perused the menu, our waiter, hoping to entice us, brought over a strikingly fresh fish to show us. My eyes admired the fish and the juicy enormous shrimps at its side. Regretfully, I am unable to eat fish, however, I acknowledge that it was a thing of beauty. Shrimps, happily, are fair game for me so I kept them in my thoughts.
For my antipasto, I decided on buffalo mozzarella (mozarella di bufala), and what a fine choice it was. Vibrantly white, soft, creamy and carrying a simple yet delicious flavour, this cheese was the ideal start. Mr. Unfazed ordered carpaccio, thinly sliced raw beef, delicately seasoned and drizzled with La Fenice's very own extra virgin olive oil.
With class and sophistication, our waiters brought our mains. I chose spaghettini with shrimp and rapini (spaghettini con gamberi e rapini). Admittedly, I chose this dish for two key reasons: it was not a tomato based dish and I was wearing a cream coloured sweater and wanted it to stay that way. The other reason was the shrimp. I couldn't get them out of my head after the waiter teased us earlier by parading them before us in all of their fresh glory.
Interestingly enough, what struck me about this dish was how finely chopped the rapini stems were. I took note and will adopt a similar technique the next time I prepare rapini. I devoured the fine pasta with zeal. I didn't sample Mr. Unfazed's meal but he tells me that his spaghettini with seafood (spaghettini tutto mare) was a real treat. His empty plate was picture proof of that statement.
For dessert, Mr. Unfazed and I both ordered the zabaligione (warm whipped custard flavoured with Marsala and fresh strawberies). Mr. Unfazed thought it was very good and enjoyed it. While I was pleased with the fresh strawberries and the distinct Marsala taste, I have to admit that I couldn't finish it all. Perhaps too sweet and not a heavy enough custard for my taste? Nonetheless, my coffee was smooth and I was given a generous portion of cream to complement it.
La Fenice provided a charming setting, mouth-watering cuisine and when you add-on good friends and hearty laughter, the result of that equation is a very powerful one indeed. A result that I cannot wait to duplicate in the near future.
Cent'anni!
*Birra Moretti was acquired by Heineken International in 1996.
http://www.heinekeninternational.com/products_brands_brands.aspx
A good night out may require research, planning, and organization. Our delectable culinary experience at La Fenice yesterday evening, an Italian restaurant in Toronto's theatre district, was proof of such a theory.
Fortunately for Mr. Unfazed and I, the heavy duty tasks of the research and development aspect of the project were handled by a lovely couple who we are proud to call our friends. Since we had all agreed that a night out was in order, Lovely Couple recommended La Fenice, an award winning restaurant laying claim to being "the most authentic Italian restaurant in Toronto." (www.lafenice.com)
While I lack the requisite skills in determining the venue's authenticity, my eyes took in the simple and tasteful decor aglow by candlelight. As for my tastebuds, they can attest to the flavours and freshness in the dishes I devoured yesterday. Of course, there was a little vino to start. Having eyed the Pinot Grigio on the menu, a dry Italian wine yet rich in fruity flavours, my decision was solidified when our waiter recommended the very same wine to my friend.
A little mix-up occurred when a bottle of Birra Moretti* appeared before me, the same beer that Mr. Unfazed ordered for himself, citing that his opportunities to drink Italian beer are usually limited. While I applaud Mr. Unfazed on his "carpe birra", not being a beer drinker myself, I smiled politely as I sent back the pale lager.
As we perused the menu, our waiter, hoping to entice us, brought over a strikingly fresh fish to show us. My eyes admired the fish and the juicy enormous shrimps at its side. Regretfully, I am unable to eat fish, however, I acknowledge that it was a thing of beauty. Shrimps, happily, are fair game for me so I kept them in my thoughts.
For my antipasto, I decided on buffalo mozzarella (mozarella di bufala), and what a fine choice it was. Vibrantly white, soft, creamy and carrying a simple yet delicious flavour, this cheese was the ideal start. Mr. Unfazed ordered carpaccio, thinly sliced raw beef, delicately seasoned and drizzled with La Fenice's very own extra virgin olive oil.
With class and sophistication, our waiters brought our mains. I chose spaghettini with shrimp and rapini (spaghettini con gamberi e rapini). Admittedly, I chose this dish for two key reasons: it was not a tomato based dish and I was wearing a cream coloured sweater and wanted it to stay that way. The other reason was the shrimp. I couldn't get them out of my head after the waiter teased us earlier by parading them before us in all of their fresh glory.
Interestingly enough, what struck me about this dish was how finely chopped the rapini stems were. I took note and will adopt a similar technique the next time I prepare rapini. I devoured the fine pasta with zeal. I didn't sample Mr. Unfazed's meal but he tells me that his spaghettini with seafood (spaghettini tutto mare) was a real treat. His empty plate was picture proof of that statement.
For dessert, Mr. Unfazed and I both ordered the zabaligione (warm whipped custard flavoured with Marsala and fresh strawberies). Mr. Unfazed thought it was very good and enjoyed it. While I was pleased with the fresh strawberries and the distinct Marsala taste, I have to admit that I couldn't finish it all. Perhaps too sweet and not a heavy enough custard for my taste? Nonetheless, my coffee was smooth and I was given a generous portion of cream to complement it.
La Fenice provided a charming setting, mouth-watering cuisine and when you add-on good friends and hearty laughter, the result of that equation is a very powerful one indeed. A result that I cannot wait to duplicate in the near future.
Cent'anni!
*Birra Moretti was acquired by Heineken International in 1996.
http://www.heinekeninternational.com/products_brands_brands.aspx
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Silly Mother and her Pseudo Lost Keys, Bargain Hunting, and Seaweed Detoxifying Bodywrap
It started out as a relatively uneventful day but it soon proved to be at times stressful, at times jubilant and even relaxing.
The Silly Mother and her Pseudo Lost Keys
It all began when my girls and I got started on our morning routine. Today was their last morning at Arts/Music/Dance March Break Camp and I wanted to ensure they were there right on time to enjoy every second.
First comes the teeth brushing. Followed by hair combing. Make that hair screaming. Spitfire despises having her hair combed. She will erupt in violent fits. Yes, she will run away, hit, scream. All in the name of self-defence to keep the Silly Mother (yes, she has called me that all the while pretending to call the police saying, "Hello Police? Can you get this Silly Mother away from me?"), away from her tangled bed of nasty hair knots.
So after I cajoled Spitfire, her hair was brushed and she was on her way. On to LittleLady who claimed her dress was too itchy. Off to find another dress. Done.
Since I'm not yet a licensed driver, I called a cab to get us to bring the fruit of my loins to camp. A CLOSED sign greeted us at the front door of the music school. With my heart in my throat, I peeked through the door and saw the instructors. I opened the door and said, "Uh, your sign says closed." "A mistake!" they cheerily replied. Phew. Drama overted.
Once inside, I helped the girls take off their coats, put on their indoor shoes and kissed them goodbye. Off I went to the bus terminal to hop on a bus and hit the mall.
I decided to peek through my bag to ensure I had everything and noticed my keys were missing. I checked every pocket in the bag, checked the pockets of my sweater. Nada. I then tried calling the music school...voice mail. I then called the cab company and yes, the dispatcher had the cabbie stop his mini-van and check the seats, underneath the seats etc. No keys. Fiddle-dee-dee, I thought. OK. No, that was not my thought but we're keeping it very G audience here.
Sitting on the bus, I called Mr. Unfazed who said for me to call my Mom as he thought she had a spare key. When the bus arrived at the mall, I bounced off and started walking towards the destination of good but cheap breakfast. It was then that I felt a bulge in my jeans pocket. The blessed (again, we're keeping it G here), keys were found. Did I feel silly? Heck, yeah.
Bargain Hunting
A successful bargain hunting trip starts with a proper meal. I think everything should start and end with food so this expedition was no exception. I made my way to the Zellers diner as I knew that if I got there before 10am, I could get 2 eggs, sausage or ham, toast and coffee for $4.49. The Zellers diner is an undervalued gem which is good for me because I had my pick of seating this morning. I settled down into a booth and proceeded to pull out a magazine while I waited for the waiter. A friendly waiter came by and took my order. A text here and a text there to some friends and the next thing I knew, my breakfast was ready. Fast and affordable. Can't beat that.
Fueled by my hearty breakfast, I then set out for my next destination - Bombay. I had been eyeing the Harrington Bombe Chest for a couple of months now. The first time I saw it, it was $499. Hoping the price would drop, I waited. Well, the waiting did not pay off. The chest is now $699. Too pricey for a piece that would go in my upstairs hallway for decor purposes only. I darted out of Bombay for a temporary diversion at H&M where I stocked up on affordable yet adorable ballet outfits for my daughters.
Wandering around the mall, I noticed a sign outside of the Guess store which indicated 40-50% off the lowest ticketed price, select styles. Liking the potential of such a discount, I toddled my way into Guess like a wide-eyed child at a candy store. Full price Guess is off limits for me. Sure enough, deals awaited me. I picked up a pair of jeans for $44 (regular $118)and a sweater top for $43.50 (regular $84).
Feeling confident with my finds and assuring myself that I indeed had the shoes to complete the outfit and that there was no need for a new bag, I headed back to Bombay with new purpose.
Thinking away from my upstairs hallway, I focused on another very important room on the first floor which has been woefully neglected - the dining room. While I'm happy with the table and chairs, I'm less than pleased with the rest of the furniture in that room. It's not a big space. I need to find tasteful yet small scale items to liven the room.
The Bombay Classics collection is on sale until April 7th (50% off). The non-Classics collection is on sale until April 21st. I wasted no time and bought this curio and side board, after rapidly taking pictures and initiating a battlefield consultation with Mr. Unfazed, of course.
Those Bombay bargains were the finale of the mall excursion and off I ran to catch the bus to take me to the spa.
The Seaweed Detoxifying Body Wrap
Having a WaySpa coupon burning a hole in my wallet, I decided yesterday that I would call up a local spa and treat myself to a body exfoliation type service. I wasn't quite sure of what I wanted but I knew that I wanted my skin to feel smooth and rejuvenated to welcome in the spring season and as an ode to the fabulous positive Celsius temperatures we've been having.
My esthetician was friendly, discreet with the disrobing process (a full body treatment involves, well, exposing most of your body) and very helpful with advice for exercises and toning muscle. As my winter hardened skin felt the scrubbing granules of the exfoliation and then the wet paint feeling of the algae laden mineral paste, I settled in for a relaxing treatment. Ritually wrapped in foil and blankets, I lay like a giant worm, waiting for the next part. The Vichy shower. The shower was warm and intense and mildy amusing. Once the sea mixture was rinsed off me, I got ready for the lotion. I always see this part as the polishing step. Just like icing on cake.
As I dressed post-seaweed induction, I felt energetic. A quick stop to Cobs Bread for a country grain bread and apple custard dessert (like I said, it's always about food with me) and I was ready for the 45 minute walk home. The best part? Didn't even notice the walk. Felt amazing afterwards.
Off to prepare tapas for a Friday night evening of fun - ole!
The Silly Mother and her Pseudo Lost Keys
It all began when my girls and I got started on our morning routine. Today was their last morning at Arts/Music/Dance March Break Camp and I wanted to ensure they were there right on time to enjoy every second.
First comes the teeth brushing. Followed by hair combing. Make that hair screaming. Spitfire despises having her hair combed. She will erupt in violent fits. Yes, she will run away, hit, scream. All in the name of self-defence to keep the Silly Mother (yes, she has called me that all the while pretending to call the police saying, "Hello Police? Can you get this Silly Mother away from me?"), away from her tangled bed of nasty hair knots.
So after I cajoled Spitfire, her hair was brushed and she was on her way. On to LittleLady who claimed her dress was too itchy. Off to find another dress. Done.
Since I'm not yet a licensed driver, I called a cab to get us to bring the fruit of my loins to camp. A CLOSED sign greeted us at the front door of the music school. With my heart in my throat, I peeked through the door and saw the instructors. I opened the door and said, "Uh, your sign says closed." "A mistake!" they cheerily replied. Phew. Drama overted.
Once inside, I helped the girls take off their coats, put on their indoor shoes and kissed them goodbye. Off I went to the bus terminal to hop on a bus and hit the mall.
I decided to peek through my bag to ensure I had everything and noticed my keys were missing. I checked every pocket in the bag, checked the pockets of my sweater. Nada. I then tried calling the music school...voice mail. I then called the cab company and yes, the dispatcher had the cabbie stop his mini-van and check the seats, underneath the seats etc. No keys. Fiddle-dee-dee, I thought. OK. No, that was not my thought but we're keeping it very G audience here.
Sitting on the bus, I called Mr. Unfazed who said for me to call my Mom as he thought she had a spare key. When the bus arrived at the mall, I bounced off and started walking towards the destination of good but cheap breakfast. It was then that I felt a bulge in my jeans pocket. The blessed (again, we're keeping it G here), keys were found. Did I feel silly? Heck, yeah.
Bargain Hunting
A successful bargain hunting trip starts with a proper meal. I think everything should start and end with food so this expedition was no exception. I made my way to the Zellers diner as I knew that if I got there before 10am, I could get 2 eggs, sausage or ham, toast and coffee for $4.49. The Zellers diner is an undervalued gem which is good for me because I had my pick of seating this morning. I settled down into a booth and proceeded to pull out a magazine while I waited for the waiter. A friendly waiter came by and took my order. A text here and a text there to some friends and the next thing I knew, my breakfast was ready. Fast and affordable. Can't beat that.
Fueled by my hearty breakfast, I then set out for my next destination - Bombay. I had been eyeing the Harrington Bombe Chest for a couple of months now. The first time I saw it, it was $499. Hoping the price would drop, I waited. Well, the waiting did not pay off. The chest is now $699. Too pricey for a piece that would go in my upstairs hallway for decor purposes only. I darted out of Bombay for a temporary diversion at H&M where I stocked up on affordable yet adorable ballet outfits for my daughters.
Wandering around the mall, I noticed a sign outside of the Guess store which indicated 40-50% off the lowest ticketed price, select styles. Liking the potential of such a discount, I toddled my way into Guess like a wide-eyed child at a candy store. Full price Guess is off limits for me. Sure enough, deals awaited me. I picked up a pair of jeans for $44 (regular $118)and a sweater top for $43.50 (regular $84).
Feeling confident with my finds and assuring myself that I indeed had the shoes to complete the outfit and that there was no need for a new bag, I headed back to Bombay with new purpose.
Thinking away from my upstairs hallway, I focused on another very important room on the first floor which has been woefully neglected - the dining room. While I'm happy with the table and chairs, I'm less than pleased with the rest of the furniture in that room. It's not a big space. I need to find tasteful yet small scale items to liven the room.
The Bombay Classics collection is on sale until April 7th (50% off). The non-Classics collection is on sale until April 21st. I wasted no time and bought this curio and side board, after rapidly taking pictures and initiating a battlefield consultation with Mr. Unfazed, of course.
Those Bombay bargains were the finale of the mall excursion and off I ran to catch the bus to take me to the spa.
The Seaweed Detoxifying Body Wrap
Having a WaySpa coupon burning a hole in my wallet, I decided yesterday that I would call up a local spa and treat myself to a body exfoliation type service. I wasn't quite sure of what I wanted but I knew that I wanted my skin to feel smooth and rejuvenated to welcome in the spring season and as an ode to the fabulous positive Celsius temperatures we've been having.
My esthetician was friendly, discreet with the disrobing process (a full body treatment involves, well, exposing most of your body) and very helpful with advice for exercises and toning muscle. As my winter hardened skin felt the scrubbing granules of the exfoliation and then the wet paint feeling of the algae laden mineral paste, I settled in for a relaxing treatment. Ritually wrapped in foil and blankets, I lay like a giant worm, waiting for the next part. The Vichy shower. The shower was warm and intense and mildy amusing. Once the sea mixture was rinsed off me, I got ready for the lotion. I always see this part as the polishing step. Just like icing on cake.
As I dressed post-seaweed induction, I felt energetic. A quick stop to Cobs Bread for a country grain bread and apple custard dessert (like I said, it's always about food with me) and I was ready for the 45 minute walk home. The best part? Didn't even notice the walk. Felt amazing afterwards.
Off to prepare tapas for a Friday night evening of fun - ole!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Why I like Californication
Showtime series starring David Duchovny.
My tunining into the show didn't even start out with my university days crush on its leading man, David Duchovny. I watched X-Files for a few years, mostly because of him. But yeah, I was really into the whole psychological thriller aspect too. When the writing strayed from that premise, I lost interest, Mulder or no Mulder.
But the point of this blog entry is not to talk about my 20 something crush on Mr. Duchovny. It's about the smile that comes to my face when I think about the show Californication.
The writing is stellar. It's intelligent, witty, and captivating. The actors are very real in the skin of their characters. For that brief moment in time, I don't think I'm watching rehearsed lines and director's cuts, I think I'm watching a flowing story, bottle of Bourbon and vintage typewriter and all. I'm watching the season 3 finale again and it just increases my anticipation for Season 4. Why? The plot twists, the knot in your stomach as you watch the scenes unfold. I can't give away too much, of course, just in case you want to watch. Try it. Watch. You'll love it.
My tunining into the show didn't even start out with my university days crush on its leading man, David Duchovny. I watched X-Files for a few years, mostly because of him. But yeah, I was really into the whole psychological thriller aspect too. When the writing strayed from that premise, I lost interest, Mulder or no Mulder.
But the point of this blog entry is not to talk about my 20 something crush on Mr. Duchovny. It's about the smile that comes to my face when I think about the show Californication.
The writing is stellar. It's intelligent, witty, and captivating. The actors are very real in the skin of their characters. For that brief moment in time, I don't think I'm watching rehearsed lines and director's cuts, I think I'm watching a flowing story, bottle of Bourbon and vintage typewriter and all. I'm watching the season 3 finale again and it just increases my anticipation for Season 4. Why? The plot twists, the knot in your stomach as you watch the scenes unfold. I can't give away too much, of course, just in case you want to watch. Try it. Watch. You'll love it.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Viva La Vida
A shamelessly overt rip off of the Coldplay song of the same title. In fact, it is that very song which resonates vibrantly and gleefully in my mind as I type this. It's Friday evening and after a cool glass of white wine, I am in the mood to relax and unwind.
The past couple of days have been a whirlwind. I can hardly believe it myself and know that I would have risen a skeptical eyebrow if someone were to tell me that working from home was tough.
I started working from home yesterday. It's a lot more intense than I thought it would be. Being mindful of the privilege and not wanting it taken away from me, I stay logged in way past the "regular business hours" mark. It was 10:30pm and there I was, being the proverbial "keener" (a nickname given to me by ex-colleagues), I was still researching ideas and sending emails.
I know that I can't forget the rest of my life which is why it's good that I have this blog to keep me accountable. I can see my propensity for excess and will work on controlling that urge. Which brings me to Viva La Vida. To truly embody the live life motto, I will maintain a balance. If I'm to log in for 8:30am-4:30pm then I'll do so but after that, it's goodbye. After all, I may miss out on a lot of vida if I stay chained to a PC.
The past couple of days have been a whirlwind. I can hardly believe it myself and know that I would have risen a skeptical eyebrow if someone were to tell me that working from home was tough.
I started working from home yesterday. It's a lot more intense than I thought it would be. Being mindful of the privilege and not wanting it taken away from me, I stay logged in way past the "regular business hours" mark. It was 10:30pm and there I was, being the proverbial "keener" (a nickname given to me by ex-colleagues), I was still researching ideas and sending emails.
I know that I can't forget the rest of my life which is why it's good that I have this blog to keep me accountable. I can see my propensity for excess and will work on controlling that urge. Which brings me to Viva La Vida. To truly embody the live life motto, I will maintain a balance. If I'm to log in for 8:30am-4:30pm then I'll do so but after that, it's goodbye. After all, I may miss out on a lot of vida if I stay chained to a PC.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Taking interest is sweet; taking action is even sweeter
The following speech (content varies slightly at time of presentaton) achieved first place in both the City Centre Toastmasters Club and the Toastmasters International Area 42 contest at the Mississauga Civic Centre. It achieved second place on March 24, 2010 at the Toastmasters International Division C contest held at South Common Community Centre.
Don’t Call Me Sugar Baby! (DCMSB)
Don't Call Me Sugar Baby is the title of a book by Dorothy Joan Harris chronicling the journey of a 12-year old girl after being diagnosed with diabetes.
Is there anyone in this room who has never heard of diabetes before?
Well, then as we can probably recite together, diabetes is a condition in which the pancreas does not produce enough insulin or none at all.
There are two types of diabetes: Type I – insulin dependent (once referred to as juvenile diabetes as it tends to affect younger people) and type II – adult onset (controlled by diet and exercise and sometimes oral medication).
Which brings to why I'm here today. I am here to share with each and every one of you, a cause that is very dear to my heart, my mind, my very self - diabetes. My aim is to persuade you to become interested in this life-threatening condition and act in hope – join the challenge in finding a cure.
Let's go back to where it all began. The year was 1995 and the song “One Sweet Day” by Mariah Carey and Boys 2 Men dominated the airwaves. It was one fateful day in 1995 when my life was dramatically and abruptly altered when after months of extreme fatigue, incessant thirst and unexplained rapid weight loss, I was delivered a heavy diagnosis which rocked my carefree, 20-year old existence to its core. It seemed my not-so-sweet day had come. Feelings of anger, anguish, and confusion overpowered me. "Why me?" I cried out. "I don't want to die!" The brutal truth is that diabetes, if left untreated, can wreak havoc on your body and create complications which result in death. Complications such cardiovascular disease, nerve, kidney, eye and foot damage.
I knew then as I know now that feeling sorry for myself was not the answer. Logistically, I learned to manage the condition and inject those needles *ouch*. You do what you have to do especially when it comes to saving your life just as you would to save the life of someone you love.
I've talked about the medical complicatons. But what about the economic impact? There is a big one. The Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation indicates that diabetes and its complications cost the Canadian economy more than $15billion dollars per year. The World Health Organization states that 5 to 10 per cent of a nation’s health budget is spent on diabetes.
Should we just cross our arms, shrug our shoulders and sing “que sera, sera.”
We could do that – that is one response.
I propose a more effective response. I challenge us collectively to link arms, join together and act. Let’s beat this sugary sucker.
Which begs the question – how? If you enjoy the smell of fresh air and the joyous effects of endorphins released from physical activity, then you could join a fundraising walk or bicycle ride campaign to cure diabetes.
And here’s a question for you…as Toastmasters, what are we always encouraged to do? Use our voices! Well, guess what? Those confident, influential voices are needed to support diabetes research and funding. Call your local MP, write him/her a letter. You can even use a template such as the one on the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation website. The sugar busting letters are www.jdrf.ca.
Sign up for an advocacy group – just click on a link on the JDRF website or send an email to the Canadian Diabetes Association – their sugar fighting powers can be found at www.diabetes.ca. Such simple actions can have a profound life-altering effect for the 2.4 million Canadians living with diabetes.
A 2008 article published in an Ottawa newspaper states that medical researchers predict that number is only going to get higher so let's stop this thing.
Earlier I mentioned that Mariah Carey’s “One Sweet Day” was all the rage in my diagnosis year. Another very well known artist, Michael Jackson, also released a hit song in 1995 “You Are Not Alone.” Let’s take an exceprt from those lyrics, “You are not alone for I am here with you... Though we’re far apart, you’re always in my heart” and send an enthusiastic, hopeful message to diabetics everywhere. Tell them that they are not alone; our support is here to stay. While we may be far away from a cure, let them know we’re not just interested in diabetes but we will not rest until a cure is found.
After all, taking interest is sweet but taking action is even sweeter.
Don’t Call Me Sugar Baby! (DCMSB)
Don't Call Me Sugar Baby is the title of a book by Dorothy Joan Harris chronicling the journey of a 12-year old girl after being diagnosed with diabetes.
Is there anyone in this room who has never heard of diabetes before?
Well, then as we can probably recite together, diabetes is a condition in which the pancreas does not produce enough insulin or none at all.
There are two types of diabetes: Type I – insulin dependent (once referred to as juvenile diabetes as it tends to affect younger people) and type II – adult onset (controlled by diet and exercise and sometimes oral medication).
Which brings to why I'm here today. I am here to share with each and every one of you, a cause that is very dear to my heart, my mind, my very self - diabetes. My aim is to persuade you to become interested in this life-threatening condition and act in hope – join the challenge in finding a cure.
Let's go back to where it all began. The year was 1995 and the song “One Sweet Day” by Mariah Carey and Boys 2 Men dominated the airwaves. It was one fateful day in 1995 when my life was dramatically and abruptly altered when after months of extreme fatigue, incessant thirst and unexplained rapid weight loss, I was delivered a heavy diagnosis which rocked my carefree, 20-year old existence to its core. It seemed my not-so-sweet day had come. Feelings of anger, anguish, and confusion overpowered me. "Why me?" I cried out. "I don't want to die!" The brutal truth is that diabetes, if left untreated, can wreak havoc on your body and create complications which result in death. Complications such cardiovascular disease, nerve, kidney, eye and foot damage.
I knew then as I know now that feeling sorry for myself was not the answer. Logistically, I learned to manage the condition and inject those needles *ouch*. You do what you have to do especially when it comes to saving your life just as you would to save the life of someone you love.
I've talked about the medical complicatons. But what about the economic impact? There is a big one. The Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation indicates that diabetes and its complications cost the Canadian economy more than $15billion dollars per year. The World Health Organization states that 5 to 10 per cent of a nation’s health budget is spent on diabetes.
Should we just cross our arms, shrug our shoulders and sing “que sera, sera.”
We could do that – that is one response.
I propose a more effective response. I challenge us collectively to link arms, join together and act. Let’s beat this sugary sucker.
Which begs the question – how? If you enjoy the smell of fresh air and the joyous effects of endorphins released from physical activity, then you could join a fundraising walk or bicycle ride campaign to cure diabetes.
And here’s a question for you…as Toastmasters, what are we always encouraged to do? Use our voices! Well, guess what? Those confident, influential voices are needed to support diabetes research and funding. Call your local MP, write him/her a letter. You can even use a template such as the one on the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation website. The sugar busting letters are www.jdrf.ca.
Sign up for an advocacy group – just click on a link on the JDRF website or send an email to the Canadian Diabetes Association – their sugar fighting powers can be found at www.diabetes.ca. Such simple actions can have a profound life-altering effect for the 2.4 million Canadians living with diabetes.
A 2008 article published in an Ottawa newspaper states that medical researchers predict that number is only going to get higher so let's stop this thing.
Earlier I mentioned that Mariah Carey’s “One Sweet Day” was all the rage in my diagnosis year. Another very well known artist, Michael Jackson, also released a hit song in 1995 “You Are Not Alone.” Let’s take an exceprt from those lyrics, “You are not alone for I am here with you... Though we’re far apart, you’re always in my heart” and send an enthusiastic, hopeful message to diabetics everywhere. Tell them that they are not alone; our support is here to stay. While we may be far away from a cure, let them know we’re not just interested in diabetes but we will not rest until a cure is found.
After all, taking interest is sweet but taking action is even sweeter.
Contest Day
Intense feelings of dread, anticipation, and peculiarly excitement, overpower me. Today is Contest Day.
It's the Toastmasters International Speech Contest. What does that even mean? I'm not quite sure myself, let me go look it up. A Google of "Toasmasters International Speech Contest" brings up a number of relevant hits. There are Rulebooks, Speech Contest Manuals, Speech Contest Kits...lots of resourcs and materials.
Which brings me back to the original question: What is the Toastmasters International Speech Contest? As the name suggests, it is a contest whereby contestants compete. The speech types can vary. Last week, our club held an evaluation speech contest (the contestants listen to a speech, write their notes, and later present their evaluations). I am not ashamed to say that I won my club's competition last week. I won't deny that I was filled with great surprise as I seriously thought I had disqualified myself for reasons of timing (I thought my evaluation was too short but apparently it satisfied the time requirements).
For today's speech contest, the winner will move on and compete with other clubs in the district. The winners keep moving on and on and on until...California. The location of the big contest. I'm setting my expectations for today as realistically as possible. I want to get through my speech within 5-7 minutes. Yes, time matters. Less than 5 minutes and I'm disqualified and over 7 minutes and yes, you guessed it, disqualified.
More than just being on time, I also want to speak clearly, audibly and with confidence. The message means a lot to me. A lot more than the contest itself. The competition is secondary. I'm persuading people to not just become interested in a life threatening condition but take action for the fight to cure diabetes. Being an insulin dependent diabetic, I know the risks that I face medically and I want to go beyond raising awareness. I want people to care.
Deep breath in and I'm going to shove those overpowering feelings of dread and nervousness aside. As I say in my speech, it's time for action. For now, it's time to stand up and recite.
It's the Toastmasters International Speech Contest. What does that even mean? I'm not quite sure myself, let me go look it up. A Google of "Toasmasters International Speech Contest" brings up a number of relevant hits. There are Rulebooks, Speech Contest Manuals, Speech Contest Kits...lots of resourcs and materials.
Which brings me back to the original question: What is the Toastmasters International Speech Contest? As the name suggests, it is a contest whereby contestants compete. The speech types can vary. Last week, our club held an evaluation speech contest (the contestants listen to a speech, write their notes, and later present their evaluations). I am not ashamed to say that I won my club's competition last week. I won't deny that I was filled with great surprise as I seriously thought I had disqualified myself for reasons of timing (I thought my evaluation was too short but apparently it satisfied the time requirements).
For today's speech contest, the winner will move on and compete with other clubs in the district. The winners keep moving on and on and on until...California. The location of the big contest. I'm setting my expectations for today as realistically as possible. I want to get through my speech within 5-7 minutes. Yes, time matters. Less than 5 minutes and I'm disqualified and over 7 minutes and yes, you guessed it, disqualified.
More than just being on time, I also want to speak clearly, audibly and with confidence. The message means a lot to me. A lot more than the contest itself. The competition is secondary. I'm persuading people to not just become interested in a life threatening condition but take action for the fight to cure diabetes. Being an insulin dependent diabetic, I know the risks that I face medically and I want to go beyond raising awareness. I want people to care.
Deep breath in and I'm going to shove those overpowering feelings of dread and nervousness aside. As I say in my speech, it's time for action. For now, it's time to stand up and recite.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Working from home for another company
We all work for our home.
Recently and quite unexpectedly, I was offered a very unique business opportunity which would allow me to use my pre-existing skills and work from home. The offer looked good enough. There's a but. You knew that was coming, didn't you? It was the responsibility aspect. The goals and roles. I wasn't sure what was going to be expected from me. Well, I sat down, wrote down a slew of questions and guess what? Today, I had a good chat with my potential boss and was given answers. As of Thursday, I'll be working from home for another company. After all, we all work from home, whether we're doing the dishes, laundry, dusting...you get the idea. I was given a rich opportunity to earn an income while at home. I'm going to give it my best shot and see what happens.
Recently and quite unexpectedly, I was offered a very unique business opportunity which would allow me to use my pre-existing skills and work from home. The offer looked good enough. There's a but. You knew that was coming, didn't you? It was the responsibility aspect. The goals and roles. I wasn't sure what was going to be expected from me. Well, I sat down, wrote down a slew of questions and guess what? Today, I had a good chat with my potential boss and was given answers. As of Thursday, I'll be working from home for another company. After all, we all work from home, whether we're doing the dishes, laundry, dusting...you get the idea. I was given a rich opportunity to earn an income while at home. I'm going to give it my best shot and see what happens.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Practice makes...
for more worrying??
I've written my Toastmasters speech 9 and now I'm left to the editing and most important, practising my delivery. Today, I just don't want to. Stomping my feet saying "no, no, no!" unleashing my inner toddler.
I've considered the barriers that could be impeding my focus and motivation. Nervousness is a definite answer. This speech isn't just any speech but a speech for competition. I haven't competed in a speech contest since elementary school. Oh, I did a one-time stint in the high school debate club but it was one day and one day only. Moreover, I didn't even enjoy it.
As I type and delve further, I realize that my reluctance to practice is deeper than just mere nerves. It appears I'm going through some self-worth issues. As this realization dawns, I see the need for action. Even thinking about how I disliked the debate club experience, I do believe that I would see things differently today.
Somehow the magic of blogging has worked. I've refocused. Off I go to practice my speech.
I've written my Toastmasters speech 9 and now I'm left to the editing and most important, practising my delivery. Today, I just don't want to. Stomping my feet saying "no, no, no!" unleashing my inner toddler.
I've considered the barriers that could be impeding my focus and motivation. Nervousness is a definite answer. This speech isn't just any speech but a speech for competition. I haven't competed in a speech contest since elementary school. Oh, I did a one-time stint in the high school debate club but it was one day and one day only. Moreover, I didn't even enjoy it.
As I type and delve further, I realize that my reluctance to practice is deeper than just mere nerves. It appears I'm going through some self-worth issues. As this realization dawns, I see the need for action. Even thinking about how I disliked the debate club experience, I do believe that I would see things differently today.
Somehow the magic of blogging has worked. I've refocused. Off I go to practice my speech.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The Bachelor: I was wrong, oh so wrong...
*crooning with the guitar* I was wrong, oh so wrong...throw in a bottle of booze and a few gauchos and I have myself a hit country song.
Seriously, I'm referring to my previous predictions about the season 14 finale of The Bachelor: On The Wings of Love. I thought Ali would get the guy, Tenley and Vienna would be sent packing, and Gia would be the next Bachelorette. Well, holy off the mark, Batman! I only wish that I could pretend to have been smoking something really good but sadly, I was stone cold sober at the time of my unprohetic announcements.
Tenley looked as lost and as confused as ever, Vienna and Jake appeared jubilant at the After the Rose special. I feel this need to call that special "hideous." So there. The hideous special. I'm sure Jason Mesnick's antics have left an indelible scar on the After the Rose. Now, whether I want to always admit it or not, I expect Melnick twists to pop up all over the place.
Speaking of Tenley, I read a rumour somewhere that she was going to be on Dancing With the Stars (DWTS) and I believed it. Wrong. Again. Jake "Vienna's my baby" Pavelka will appear on DWTS.
And Ali, who, I admit I wasn't a fan of during season 14, is the next Bachelorette. Should have suspected her apology to Vienna was a PR stunt. Now I get the motivation. Will I watch the next Bachelorette? Stay tuned.
Seriously, I'm referring to my previous predictions about the season 14 finale of The Bachelor: On The Wings of Love. I thought Ali would get the guy, Tenley and Vienna would be sent packing, and Gia would be the next Bachelorette. Well, holy off the mark, Batman! I only wish that I could pretend to have been smoking something really good but sadly, I was stone cold sober at the time of my unprohetic announcements.
Tenley looked as lost and as confused as ever, Vienna and Jake appeared jubilant at the After the Rose special. I feel this need to call that special "hideous." So there. The hideous special. I'm sure Jason Mesnick's antics have left an indelible scar on the After the Rose. Now, whether I want to always admit it or not, I expect Melnick twists to pop up all over the place.
Speaking of Tenley, I read a rumour somewhere that she was going to be on Dancing With the Stars (DWTS) and I believed it. Wrong. Again. Jake "Vienna's my baby" Pavelka will appear on DWTS.
And Ali, who, I admit I wasn't a fan of during season 14, is the next Bachelorette. Should have suspected her apology to Vienna was a PR stunt. Now I get the motivation. Will I watch the next Bachelorette? Stay tuned.
When the darkness sets...
It doesn't happen very often but when it does, it can be intense, fast and furious.
It is the darkness from within. The shadow that cannot be seen behind a bright smile, sparkling eyes and a melodic voice. That feeling of helplessness and despair that creeps up and overtakes you when something goes wrong or you've experienced a hurtful incident. You feel ashamed to talk about it so you don't. You know you have friends you could count on, yet, you also understand that they have busy lives and challenges of their own so you shy away from the real answer behind the three worded question, "How are you?"
The darkness wins everytime you allow it to. Don't let it be all-consuming, let it out. Don't want to make a public annoucement? Then don't. Write a letter and then burn it. Shout it into an empty space where no one can hear. Go run around the block. Get off the couch and start dancing. Just let it out somehow. You'll feel a lot better for it. You can do it. You can squash darkness and create a brighter day, one vent at a time.
It is the darkness from within. The shadow that cannot be seen behind a bright smile, sparkling eyes and a melodic voice. That feeling of helplessness and despair that creeps up and overtakes you when something goes wrong or you've experienced a hurtful incident. You feel ashamed to talk about it so you don't. You know you have friends you could count on, yet, you also understand that they have busy lives and challenges of their own so you shy away from the real answer behind the three worded question, "How are you?"
The darkness wins everytime you allow it to. Don't let it be all-consuming, let it out. Don't want to make a public annoucement? Then don't. Write a letter and then burn it. Shout it into an empty space where no one can hear. Go run around the block. Get off the couch and start dancing. Just let it out somehow. You'll feel a lot better for it. You can do it. You can squash darkness and create a brighter day, one vent at a time.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Speech...Sugar...Diabetes
When in doubt, blog.
I set out a task for today and that is to write out my 9th Toastmasters speech. The theme is "Persuade With Power" and I need to persuade listeners to adopt my viewpoint and take action on something in 5-7 minutes. Humph. Easier said than done.
A few ideas have come to mind and I seem stuck on a "fundraising" kick. Give more money to Haiti, give more money to the diabetes association, give more money to...stop right there. Let's go back to the diabetes thing. I've been a type I insulin dependent diabetic since July 1995. There are two major organizations that are responsible for diabetes research and fundraising in Canada. One is the Canadian Diabetes Association (CDA) and the other is Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF). Most of the money raised by the CDA goes to type II diabetes which is logical because more people have type II (adult onset, no insulin required) than type I. JDRF is exclusively dedicated to type I. My mind thinks that this is where I should keep my focus for my speech and enlighten my audience about what type I diabetes is all about and how it affects those who have it. Also, to stress how important it is for the JDRF to keep up their work. We need a cure. Not another insulin delivery device but an actual cure. Until that happens we need to keep working. Did this blog entry work? Am I feeling sufficiently focused and ready to speech write? Not really. I'll keep on typing. It'll come to me.
Well, what do I want to say in this speech? I know that I want to:
- explain what diabetes is
- mention the difference between type I and type II
- demonstrate with passion how type I takes a serious toll on the body (I recently got life insurance and guess what age I'm assessed at for risk purposes? Any guesses??? 47!!!! I was 34 at the time of getting the insurance.)
- stress the importance of supporting JDRF iniatives
- call my audience to action to learn more about the JDRF
Phone just rang interrupting this blog. I stopped to speak to an employment recruiter. Position was not of interest but it's still nice to get a phone call. Gives me someone to talk to. Ha ha. Back to the speech. I think those points gave me a focus. Off to write.
I set out a task for today and that is to write out my 9th Toastmasters speech. The theme is "Persuade With Power" and I need to persuade listeners to adopt my viewpoint and take action on something in 5-7 minutes. Humph. Easier said than done.
A few ideas have come to mind and I seem stuck on a "fundraising" kick. Give more money to Haiti, give more money to the diabetes association, give more money to...stop right there. Let's go back to the diabetes thing. I've been a type I insulin dependent diabetic since July 1995. There are two major organizations that are responsible for diabetes research and fundraising in Canada. One is the Canadian Diabetes Association (CDA) and the other is Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF). Most of the money raised by the CDA goes to type II diabetes which is logical because more people have type II (adult onset, no insulin required) than type I. JDRF is exclusively dedicated to type I. My mind thinks that this is where I should keep my focus for my speech and enlighten my audience about what type I diabetes is all about and how it affects those who have it. Also, to stress how important it is for the JDRF to keep up their work. We need a cure. Not another insulin delivery device but an actual cure. Until that happens we need to keep working. Did this blog entry work? Am I feeling sufficiently focused and ready to speech write? Not really. I'll keep on typing. It'll come to me.
Well, what do I want to say in this speech? I know that I want to:
- explain what diabetes is
- mention the difference between type I and type II
- demonstrate with passion how type I takes a serious toll on the body (I recently got life insurance and guess what age I'm assessed at for risk purposes? Any guesses??? 47!!!! I was 34 at the time of getting the insurance.)
- stress the importance of supporting JDRF iniatives
- call my audience to action to learn more about the JDRF
Phone just rang interrupting this blog. I stopped to speak to an employment recruiter. Position was not of interest but it's still nice to get a phone call. Gives me someone to talk to. Ha ha. Back to the speech. I think those points gave me a focus. Off to write.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
The Bachelor: The Women Told
What exactly, though, did they tell?
It has been widely reported that Season 14 featuring Mr. Jake "Hunky Pilot" Pavelka has garnered ABC its highest ratings ever for the network. Chris Harrison, the show's host, confirmed that "more viewers than ever" have tuned in to this drama.
Which brings me to what I want to say. I do feel a certain self-imposed obligation to mention that in Monday's spectacle, viewers got to see past contestants involved in charitable works. On the flip side, we also were exposed to past contestants getting down and dirty in bikinis, martinis, and trash-talking-bad-boy Wes.
What has irked me and continues to irk me, just a little, is the scandal surrounding beautiful model Rozlyn Papa and an unnamed ex-producer of the show. If an "inappropriate relationship" did indeed happen between Papa and Ex-Producer, then I want to say right here and right now that I'm not judging that. Do I think that she should have asked to leave the show once she realized that she had feelings for Ex-Producer? Yes. Absolutely.
The problem is there is no televised proof. Just he said vs. she said vs. she said. Am I some kind of voyeur? I don't think so. After all, the whole point of the show is a televised quest for love. Yet, somehow, all we have of a series of "I saw this and that" from ex-contestants and Rozlyn swearing that none of it happened.
Canadian Jessie from Oakville, ON swore on her dog's life that such and such happened. Rozlyn counter swore on her son's life that Jessie's stories are false. Who to believe in such a mess? I don't know.
I'll leave Rozlyn's accusation of Chris Harrison hitting on Ex-Producer's Wife in New Zealand and move on to another unsettling matter. Ali Fedotowski. She attempted to pull a Swiderski (Ed Swiderski left Jillian Harris on The Bachelorette only to beg his way back) but in Ali's case, Jake didn't let the pretty blonde return.
Was that look of anguished longing between Jake and Ali on Monday's reunion fake? Were we supposed to notice it and jump to conclusions? I've heard and read rumours that Ali is the next bachelorette and this whole drama has been created to spike interest in her. Nothing against Ali but I'm a Gia Allemand fan. I want Gia to be the next bachelorette. I'm still hoping that Chris' interview with Gia is a good sign, calling her a "fan favourite" and Gia declaring that she'd be more expressive about her love the next time around.
Back to Ali though...despite the rampant net rumours that Vienna Girardi is the winner, I still think Jake won't choose neither Vienna or Tenley Molzahn and somehow end up wth Ali. Let's see.
It has been widely reported that Season 14 featuring Mr. Jake "Hunky Pilot" Pavelka has garnered ABC its highest ratings ever for the network. Chris Harrison, the show's host, confirmed that "more viewers than ever" have tuned in to this drama.
Which brings me to what I want to say. I do feel a certain self-imposed obligation to mention that in Monday's spectacle, viewers got to see past contestants involved in charitable works. On the flip side, we also were exposed to past contestants getting down and dirty in bikinis, martinis, and trash-talking-bad-boy Wes.
What has irked me and continues to irk me, just a little, is the scandal surrounding beautiful model Rozlyn Papa and an unnamed ex-producer of the show. If an "inappropriate relationship" did indeed happen between Papa and Ex-Producer, then I want to say right here and right now that I'm not judging that. Do I think that she should have asked to leave the show once she realized that she had feelings for Ex-Producer? Yes. Absolutely.
The problem is there is no televised proof. Just he said vs. she said vs. she said. Am I some kind of voyeur? I don't think so. After all, the whole point of the show is a televised quest for love. Yet, somehow, all we have of a series of "I saw this and that" from ex-contestants and Rozlyn swearing that none of it happened.
Canadian Jessie from Oakville, ON swore on her dog's life that such and such happened. Rozlyn counter swore on her son's life that Jessie's stories are false. Who to believe in such a mess? I don't know.
I'll leave Rozlyn's accusation of Chris Harrison hitting on Ex-Producer's Wife in New Zealand and move on to another unsettling matter. Ali Fedotowski. She attempted to pull a Swiderski (Ed Swiderski left Jillian Harris on The Bachelorette only to beg his way back) but in Ali's case, Jake didn't let the pretty blonde return.
Was that look of anguished longing between Jake and Ali on Monday's reunion fake? Were we supposed to notice it and jump to conclusions? I've heard and read rumours that Ali is the next bachelorette and this whole drama has been created to spike interest in her. Nothing against Ali but I'm a Gia Allemand fan. I want Gia to be the next bachelorette. I'm still hoping that Chris' interview with Gia is a good sign, calling her a "fan favourite" and Gia declaring that she'd be more expressive about her love the next time around.
Back to Ali though...despite the rampant net rumours that Vienna Girardi is the winner, I still think Jake won't choose neither Vienna or Tenley Molzahn and somehow end up wth Ali. Let's see.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Take a page from Reality Steve
I'm laughing so hard and thought, what the heck? Run with what you've just read on RealitySteve.com
I've been following The Bachelor (season 14, Jake Pavelka) and am firmly in the love-to-hate-the-show camp. Previously, I've refrained from making any comments about the television shows that I watch but I don't see why I can't put out a commentary or two about the tube. The truth is, I hadn't thought about doing it before.
Ali, one of the contestants, left the show on the grounds that her job was on the line. One week later, viewers are given the drama of a hokey-dokey telephone call to Jake. Much to the chagrin of the masses, Jake does not beg Ali to return to his harem.
Not having watched The Bachelor in years, I don't have a rich memory store of seasons past, although I did watch part of Jason Melnick's season (watched his infamous crying-over-the-balcony scene) and the second half of Gillian Anderson's season as The Bachelorette. Regardless, I still maintain that Jake seems "off" to me. Maybe I'm just another in the long list of not understanding his decisions to kick off women with lightning speed. I don't know. I'll pay close attention to "The Women Tell All" Monday night special and post back. I'm looking forward to some Rozlyn Papa drama.
I've been following The Bachelor (season 14, Jake Pavelka) and am firmly in the love-to-hate-the-show camp. Previously, I've refrained from making any comments about the television shows that I watch but I don't see why I can't put out a commentary or two about the tube. The truth is, I hadn't thought about doing it before.
Ali, one of the contestants, left the show on the grounds that her job was on the line. One week later, viewers are given the drama of a hokey-dokey telephone call to Jake. Much to the chagrin of the masses, Jake does not beg Ali to return to his harem.
Not having watched The Bachelor in years, I don't have a rich memory store of seasons past, although I did watch part of Jason Melnick's season (watched his infamous crying-over-the-balcony scene) and the second half of Gillian Anderson's season as The Bachelorette. Regardless, I still maintain that Jake seems "off" to me. Maybe I'm just another in the long list of not understanding his decisions to kick off women with lightning speed. I don't know. I'll pay close attention to "The Women Tell All" Monday night special and post back. I'm looking forward to some Rozlyn Papa drama.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Quick change
Just a few mere hours ago, I wanted to come on here and post my frustrations about my inability to access an online course that I registered for. As I was typing away, Spitfire, who was officially home due to illness (poor thing vomitted three times yesterday), asked to play games on my computer. She is a big fan of www.treehousetv.com games. Struggles as she does with control of the mouse, she really likes Dora's Silly Costume Maker or anything Diego. As I shut down my applications, I realized that I didn't save my blog in progress. Oh well, I thought, I was a ball of fury anyway.
Happily, my course registration issues were sorted (just realized that I should send out a thank you to the school so I just whipped one off) and I can now view and participate in my course. I'm quite excited about it. Unlike the previous course (project management) I completed, this one (supervisory and leadership) seems a lot more interactive. I'm able to post on a discussion board and submit assignments. The previous course was a video format with tests at the end of each unit. I like the sharing and group learning aspect of this course.
With that out of the way, I can think about other things. Being at home brings about the gift of seeing all of the flaws in the house. It's been said time and time again that there is always something to do with a house. Sure enough, mine is no exception. I can see small issues and not-so-small issues. The small problems - the inside walls of my cupboard under my sink are slightly stained. I've tried cleaning, I've tried bleach. These are stubborn stains. I've decided to re-paint the insides of that cupboard. Off to add primer and white paint to my list.
Yes, I've started a list. I'm the type of person that would prefer to think of something and then act but this time, I'm restraining myself. I must create a to-do list for house projects and keep a budget. Off to make a big list.
Happily, my course registration issues were sorted (just realized that I should send out a thank you to the school so I just whipped one off) and I can now view and participate in my course. I'm quite excited about it. Unlike the previous course (project management) I completed, this one (supervisory and leadership) seems a lot more interactive. I'm able to post on a discussion board and submit assignments. The previous course was a video format with tests at the end of each unit. I like the sharing and group learning aspect of this course.
With that out of the way, I can think about other things. Being at home brings about the gift of seeing all of the flaws in the house. It's been said time and time again that there is always something to do with a house. Sure enough, mine is no exception. I can see small issues and not-so-small issues. The small problems - the inside walls of my cupboard under my sink are slightly stained. I've tried cleaning, I've tried bleach. These are stubborn stains. I've decided to re-paint the insides of that cupboard. Off to add primer and white paint to my list.
Yes, I've started a list. I'm the type of person that would prefer to think of something and then act but this time, I'm restraining myself. I must create a to-do list for house projects and keep a budget. Off to make a big list.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Why am I sleepy?
I don't want t be sleepy. Not in the slightest. In less than 1/2 hour, LittleLady needs to be at her math class and I was hoping that Spitfire and I could go to Bed, Bath and Beyond and then hang out at Starbucks for a bit. If I'm sleepy, it means that Mr. Unfazed will take LittleLady to her class and Spitfire and I will stay home. I can't allow fatigue to take over. I can always sleep later. I'm thinking a glass of water would be good right about now. Stoppped to get one. Yeah, the cold splash does have a certain magic.
Besides, I want to get back in the car. I'll be able to drive through the neighbourhood en route to Little Lady's class and that's incentive to stay alert. Of course, if I'm really that sleepy, well, then I won't get behind the wheel. Safety first. Always.
A good stretch and I'm feeling the need for fresh air. Maybe a quick walk. A pick me up. Time to go.
Besides, I want to get back in the car. I'll be able to drive through the neighbourhood en route to Little Lady's class and that's incentive to stay alert. Of course, if I'm really that sleepy, well, then I won't get behind the wheel. Safety first. Always.
A good stretch and I'm feeling the need for fresh air. Maybe a quick walk. A pick me up. Time to go.
Friday, February 12, 2010
No more procrastinating...
Being active doesn't mean I'm not allowed to write. If anything, it means I should be writing more.
I've spent the last couple of days in a flurry of sick children (thankfully, they recovered quickly), neglected house work (sick kids + finishing up my project management course) and today, I ploughed through it all.
Le film
With kiddies recovered and off to school, I first treated myself to watching "Camille" (movie starring Sienna Miller and James Franco). If I had shame, I would pretend I hadn't watched the movie but I'm feeling bold and want to put it out there. It's good for the laugh. I must say though...James Franco looks especially HOT in this movie. No Spiderman James Franco here. He is bad-boy-rugged-take-my-breath-away in Camille. So, not a total waste, I guess.
Let your fingers do the walking
Having indulged myself, I turned my sights to productivity. First, I noticed that I hadn't yet received my course confirmation for the online course I just signed up for: Supervisory and Leadership. The last time I enrolled with the school, confirmation was fast and furious. Sensing a red flag, I called the admissions office this morning. Sure enough, they weren't showing any payment information. I promptly gave my payment information and got confirmation via email. Now, I just need access to the course. If I don't see that by Monday, I'm calling in again. Yes, I've always been a keener.
Wash, rinse, repeat
Laundry, the unceasing ever essential evil in our lives, awaited me. Load after load of bed clothes, T-shirts, and of course the occasional piece stained beyond saving (only 2 items and they were minor, no risk of dupioni silk disasters in this household..) While making jaunts back and forth from laundry to living room (makeshift folding room), I came to terms that today was the day to purge and reorganize the laundry. A few issues with my laundry room, the lighting is poor. Poor lighting makes it difficult for me to see the dust animals that collect. Dust fiends be gone, I declared. Cupboard was reorganized, standing shelf was reorganized. I was itching to get myself to Bed, Bath and Beyond but I told myself to wait and do an assessment of the entire house before doing some damage to my plastic card.
Le frigo
Over the past few days, I've noticed that my fridge needed a reorg. I picked up these handy shelf liners (yes, from Bed, Bath and Beyond) for the fridge the other day and love them. I even showed my visiting friend the other day and she loved them too. The less chance of staining the actual fridge hardware, the better! So, off I went throwing out past-expiry-date items and categorizing items by type: dairy, condiments, etc.
Out to lunch
It wasn't all work, I did play as well. Met a friend and her 1 year old son at Sunset Grill for brunch. I ordered a burger (not bad but a tad dry) and she ordered an omelette. Conversation was great and I got my fix of seeing an adorable little boy. I pretended the jam packets were cars and went "vroom, vroom" to his amusement.
Home again
After the break, I returned home where the *ribs that had been sitting in the slow cooker (I did that right after cleaning out the fridge) filled the air with deliciousness.
My cookbooks have been irritating me lately...as in they're not orgatnized in an eye-pleasing manner so I fixed those as well. I still have some odds and ends left to do and as I type this, the guilt mounts.
Off to finish up the cookbooks, shouldn't take too long.
Now, if only I could tell my stomach to ignore the smell of slow cooked ribs...
*Canadian Living Recipe http://www.canadianliving.com/food/fall_off_the_bone_ribs_in_barbecue_sauce.php
I've spent the last couple of days in a flurry of sick children (thankfully, they recovered quickly), neglected house work (sick kids + finishing up my project management course) and today, I ploughed through it all.
Le film
With kiddies recovered and off to school, I first treated myself to watching "Camille" (movie starring Sienna Miller and James Franco). If I had shame, I would pretend I hadn't watched the movie but I'm feeling bold and want to put it out there. It's good for the laugh. I must say though...James Franco looks especially HOT in this movie. No Spiderman James Franco here. He is bad-boy-rugged-take-my-breath-away in Camille. So, not a total waste, I guess.
Let your fingers do the walking
Having indulged myself, I turned my sights to productivity. First, I noticed that I hadn't yet received my course confirmation for the online course I just signed up for: Supervisory and Leadership. The last time I enrolled with the school, confirmation was fast and furious. Sensing a red flag, I called the admissions office this morning. Sure enough, they weren't showing any payment information. I promptly gave my payment information and got confirmation via email. Now, I just need access to the course. If I don't see that by Monday, I'm calling in again. Yes, I've always been a keener.
Wash, rinse, repeat
Laundry, the unceasing ever essential evil in our lives, awaited me. Load after load of bed clothes, T-shirts, and of course the occasional piece stained beyond saving (only 2 items and they were minor, no risk of dupioni silk disasters in this household..) While making jaunts back and forth from laundry to living room (makeshift folding room), I came to terms that today was the day to purge and reorganize the laundry. A few issues with my laundry room, the lighting is poor. Poor lighting makes it difficult for me to see the dust animals that collect. Dust fiends be gone, I declared. Cupboard was reorganized, standing shelf was reorganized. I was itching to get myself to Bed, Bath and Beyond but I told myself to wait and do an assessment of the entire house before doing some damage to my plastic card.
Le frigo
Over the past few days, I've noticed that my fridge needed a reorg. I picked up these handy shelf liners (yes, from Bed, Bath and Beyond) for the fridge the other day and love them. I even showed my visiting friend the other day and she loved them too. The less chance of staining the actual fridge hardware, the better! So, off I went throwing out past-expiry-date items and categorizing items by type: dairy, condiments, etc.
Out to lunch
It wasn't all work, I did play as well. Met a friend and her 1 year old son at Sunset Grill for brunch. I ordered a burger (not bad but a tad dry) and she ordered an omelette. Conversation was great and I got my fix of seeing an adorable little boy. I pretended the jam packets were cars and went "vroom, vroom" to his amusement.
Home again
After the break, I returned home where the *ribs that had been sitting in the slow cooker (I did that right after cleaning out the fridge) filled the air with deliciousness.
My cookbooks have been irritating me lately...as in they're not orgatnized in an eye-pleasing manner so I fixed those as well. I still have some odds and ends left to do and as I type this, the guilt mounts.
Off to finish up the cookbooks, shouldn't take too long.
Now, if only I could tell my stomach to ignore the smell of slow cooked ribs...
*Canadian Living Recipe http://www.canadianliving.com/food/fall_off_the_bone_ribs_in_barbecue_sauce.php
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Behind the Wheel
To say I suspect that this will be the first of many such posts would be woefully dishonest. I KNOW that I will be writing a lot about my experiences as a student driver. But first to get me in the right mood, a little Depeche Mode plays as I type this out, "Oh little girl, there are times when I feel I'd rather not be, the one behind the wheel." I have to convince myself that he's not singing to me. As I ungracefully drove in the centre of my neighbourhood road yesterday morning, it was clear that I was the one who would rather not be behind the wheel.
With Mr. Unfazed as my makeshift teacher and spur of the moment instructions spewing out, "Signal Left! Signal Right, Steer!" it would have been funny if not for the fact that this wasn't a simulation but real life with real people. Yesterday's faux-pas not only included centre lane driving but also the whiplash inducing stop. I wasn't deterred though. I got back in the car today. I'm still dealing with the fear though. The fear of hitting something and god forbid, hitting someone.
Mr. Unfazed tells me the fear is normal but that I need to work on my confidence as the fear could cause me to actually do something that I don't want to do. I'm told that in spite of my trepidation, I did better today.
My sights are still focused ahead which is good. I still have driver's in-class theory lessons to attend and road lessons ahead, I'll be OK. More than OK. ;)
With Mr. Unfazed as my makeshift teacher and spur of the moment instructions spewing out, "Signal Left! Signal Right, Steer!" it would have been funny if not for the fact that this wasn't a simulation but real life with real people. Yesterday's faux-pas not only included centre lane driving but also the whiplash inducing stop. I wasn't deterred though. I got back in the car today. I'm still dealing with the fear though. The fear of hitting something and god forbid, hitting someone.
Mr. Unfazed tells me the fear is normal but that I need to work on my confidence as the fear could cause me to actually do something that I don't want to do. I'm told that in spite of my trepidation, I did better today.
My sights are still focused ahead which is good. I still have driver's in-class theory lessons to attend and road lessons ahead, I'll be OK. More than OK. ;)
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Gotta Getcha
Once again, I'm at a block. After playing and replaying, Whigfield's "Gotta Getcha" (don't worry if you've never heard of the song, it wasn't a big hit), I just can't sum up the motivation. Earlier today I thought about writing about the baby shower that I'm planning. I want it to go well for the guest of honour so of course, I'm a bundle of nerves.
The blessed event will be on Saturday. A lovely group of ladies (about 16) will be there to wish our good friend well in the arrival of her precious baby girl (expected to show her cute little face in March).
I've gone through an online Baby Shower Checklist. I have my RSVPs, I've ordered the cake, I just finishing wrapping the favours (thank you Whigfield and the David Rocco Dolce Vita CD for keeping me moving), I'm picking up food on Saturday morning (the lovely guests are also all bringing a dish), and really all that's left is some decorations (yes, I have streamers but I want those WELCOME TO THE BABY SHOWER signs, well, at least one sign). Balloons too. But I'm getting the decorations and balloons on Saturday. I'll have time. Don't look at me like that. I know what you're thinking. ;)
I'm smiling again. The intended catharsis of blogging worked.
Any chance I'll go back to my project managment course today? The correct answer is...I really should.
The blessed event will be on Saturday. A lovely group of ladies (about 16) will be there to wish our good friend well in the arrival of her precious baby girl (expected to show her cute little face in March).
I've gone through an online Baby Shower Checklist. I have my RSVPs, I've ordered the cake, I just finishing wrapping the favours (thank you Whigfield and the David Rocco Dolce Vita CD for keeping me moving), I'm picking up food on Saturday morning (the lovely guests are also all bringing a dish), and really all that's left is some decorations (yes, I have streamers but I want those WELCOME TO THE BABY SHOWER signs, well, at least one sign). Balloons too. But I'm getting the decorations and balloons on Saturday. I'll have time. Don't look at me like that. I know what you're thinking. ;)
I'm smiling again. The intended catharsis of blogging worked.
Any chance I'll go back to my project managment course today? The correct answer is...I really should.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Cold1, G1
After almost 19 years of putting off the inevitable, I woke up this blistery cold morning and decided to do it. No more excuses, it was time for action. My purpose today was to obtain my G1 license - the written test. Upon passing this, I knew that I would be issued my ticket to learn to drive, with a licensed driver.
Knowing that the examination centre opened at 8:30am, I quickly got myself ready. I didn't bolt out the door right away though. Being academically minded, I wanted to review my material and set about retaking online G1 practice tests. Satisfied with my scores, I then called the taxi company to assist me in my voyage from Mississauga to Brampton. It is tempting to start ranting about how Mississauga, a city with almost 1 million people, doesn't have an examination centre, but I'll leave that one alone for today. I will mention though that since I'm a frequent client of the taxi company, I did receive best wishes to pass. An unexpected boost of confidence indeed.
My two options were Brampton or Oakville. Estimating that Brampton would likely be busier because unlike Oakville, it offers all classes of licensing, I still chose the Flower City location because of its proximity to restaurants and shopping. Idyllically, I dreamed of grabbing a pipping hot latte after spending say, a mere 20 minutes of driver test requirements.
Seated in the warm cab, I chatted animatedly with the friendly driver who warned me that due to the strike, (a labour disruption beginning in August 2009 put thousands of driver applications and renewals at risk), the centre was extremely busy. I tossed out the idea of going to Oakville instead but with dreams of shopping in my head, I stayed on course to go to Brampton.
As the car turned towards the front of the building, my jaw dropped at the sight that greeted me. It appeared that 100 people were waiting outside the examination centre. Technically -6C but feeling like -13C, the task before me was daunting. The cab driver looked apologetically at me and said weakly, "Perhaps they're not open yet?" Knowing that the centre had opened almost 1 hour ago, I smiled and said, "No, they're open." He asked me, "What do you want to do?" The friendly driver guessed that I would want to turn around. Convincingly I said, "I want to go through it." I handed over my credit card for payment and mentally prepared myself for the physical onslaught to follow.
As I exited the cab, I eyed the long line and not being one for prayer, hoped for a quick wait outdoors. Thankful for having worn a bulky sweater, lined ski jacket, furry boots, knitted hat and scarf, and gloves (although leather was the wrong choice - I needed my thick Kombi gloves), I took my place behind the sea of bulky jackets and incredulous faces. Initially, I had thought to use the wait time to review my Driver's Study Guide, and I did get through a few pages but then the cold reality bit me fiercely. The frosty temperature was not conducive to such an undertaking. With the flimsy gloves, my poor fingers could not withstand the pressure. Burying my hands in my warm sleeves, I wiggled my fingers and got my legs to join in on the action. Humming Annie Lennox's "I Need a Man" over and over in my head, I was certain that I could have nabbed the "Worst Dancing In This or Any Year" award. I shook myself around on the spot continuously and sometimes knocked into the others in the line up. A speedy apology would fly out of my mouth. In response, I was always greeted with a smile and a relaxed "It's OK." Perhaps the unexpected body heat was a welcome respite.
Commiserating with fellow G1 wannabes (road test applicants can just walk-in, no waiting required), we shared sighs and complained about our numb toes. Occasionally, I would eye the Harveys across the street dreaming of a quick coffee run but I knew that I couldn't lose my spot. Too much was at stake.
A lovely lady waiting with her son, offered the warmth of her car to two freezing teenaged girls in front of me, promising them she'd keep their spot in line. The girls politely declined, however, the lovely lady went into her car and grabbed an extra coat to give them. Despite how cold I was feeling on the outside, the warm ray of her kindness fueled me on the inside.
As the crowd inched closer and closer to the Promised Door, I started to feel hope again. This is it, I thought. We're almost there. At one point, those of us in the front were all allowed in. Exclaiming, "I can't believe this!" I happily scampered inside. My visit in the Promised Land was tragically shortlived. An employee of the centre ordered us all out (I heard the words "numbers of people" and "fire hazard").
The wait after that felt especially cruel and unusual. With my constant uncoordinated movements during my stay warm exercise, my thighs had hardened into solid rocks. I decided right there and then that I would not need to exercise for 1 week following this flirtation with torture.
Finally, after a shocking 2 hour wait, I heard the words, "The next two." Those words were intended for the 16-year old in front of me and for yours truly. Shaking, not out of excitement, but out of sheer cold, I handed over my birth certificate and passport at the registration desk. A number was handed to me and I quickly found a seat beside a teenaged girl and her mother. Although I hd found a spot to sit, I learned that my rock hard legs were not agreeable to sitting. After some dramatic gestures, I forced my way into the seat. Feeling mortified, I laughed it off and quietly reminded myself that such incidents make for great comedic moments in storytelling.
My number was quickly called and I met with the administrator. My shaky hands struggled to sign my name but after a few attempts, my signing ability returned. A vision test here, a few questions there, and I thought the test would be handed to me to write. Not so fast. Full stop.
Being an insulin dependent diabetic, I'm considered disabled from the point of view of the Ontario Human Rights Commission. A fact that I myself was not aware of until a good friend of mine, also an insulin dependent diabetic, came over for tea this past Saturday and happened to mention that.
My administrator was informed by a colleague that due to my "insulin diabetes", my application would need to be reviewed by a medical board. The review board would contact my doctor and then a decision would be made as to whether I was eligible to write the test. The words, "She won't be writing today" hung shamefully in the air.
My mind racing, I showed a cool exterior, not hard to do since my body was still recovering from the cold, and smiled and politely asked for additional information regarding the review process. I bit down hard on my tongue and resisted the urge to ask why my diabetes was an issue now when it wasn't an issue as I stood outside for two hours.
My administrator, doing her due diligence, consulted with another colleague and checked the Rule Book. According to the rules, the diabetes is only an issue if there has been a reaction within the 1-year period preceding application. I confidently declared that I had not experienced any hospitalizations, ER visits, blah, blah, for my diabetes within the 1-year. After declaring a few more particulars regarding my diabetes and forking over the $125 fee, I was given my luminous white test paper.
Eagerly I sat down and began answering the multiple choice test. I breezed through it and then went over my answers. Changing only one answer and confident that I had answered most of the questions correctly, I placed my completed test in the to-be-marked-pile.
The wait for my result was long but I was not complaning - it was warm inside. With my BlackBerry hidden in my purse so as to not draw attention, I emailed friends and checked Facebook. I then practiced memorizing my speech for my Toastmasters meeting the following day. I went through this a few times before my name was called.
I passed. I'm now on the yellow brick road. If I enroll in a driver's school, which I will, I can take my G1 road test in 8 months from now. Otherwise, it's a 12 month wait. Next step: behind the wheel.
Knowing that the examination centre opened at 8:30am, I quickly got myself ready. I didn't bolt out the door right away though. Being academically minded, I wanted to review my material and set about retaking online G1 practice tests. Satisfied with my scores, I then called the taxi company to assist me in my voyage from Mississauga to Brampton. It is tempting to start ranting about how Mississauga, a city with almost 1 million people, doesn't have an examination centre, but I'll leave that one alone for today. I will mention though that since I'm a frequent client of the taxi company, I did receive best wishes to pass. An unexpected boost of confidence indeed.
My two options were Brampton or Oakville. Estimating that Brampton would likely be busier because unlike Oakville, it offers all classes of licensing, I still chose the Flower City location because of its proximity to restaurants and shopping. Idyllically, I dreamed of grabbing a pipping hot latte after spending say, a mere 20 minutes of driver test requirements.
Seated in the warm cab, I chatted animatedly with the friendly driver who warned me that due to the strike, (a labour disruption beginning in August 2009 put thousands of driver applications and renewals at risk), the centre was extremely busy. I tossed out the idea of going to Oakville instead but with dreams of shopping in my head, I stayed on course to go to Brampton.
As the car turned towards the front of the building, my jaw dropped at the sight that greeted me. It appeared that 100 people were waiting outside the examination centre. Technically -6C but feeling like -13C, the task before me was daunting. The cab driver looked apologetically at me and said weakly, "Perhaps they're not open yet?" Knowing that the centre had opened almost 1 hour ago, I smiled and said, "No, they're open." He asked me, "What do you want to do?" The friendly driver guessed that I would want to turn around. Convincingly I said, "I want to go through it." I handed over my credit card for payment and mentally prepared myself for the physical onslaught to follow.
As I exited the cab, I eyed the long line and not being one for prayer, hoped for a quick wait outdoors. Thankful for having worn a bulky sweater, lined ski jacket, furry boots, knitted hat and scarf, and gloves (although leather was the wrong choice - I needed my thick Kombi gloves), I took my place behind the sea of bulky jackets and incredulous faces. Initially, I had thought to use the wait time to review my Driver's Study Guide, and I did get through a few pages but then the cold reality bit me fiercely. The frosty temperature was not conducive to such an undertaking. With the flimsy gloves, my poor fingers could not withstand the pressure. Burying my hands in my warm sleeves, I wiggled my fingers and got my legs to join in on the action. Humming Annie Lennox's "I Need a Man" over and over in my head, I was certain that I could have nabbed the "Worst Dancing In This or Any Year" award. I shook myself around on the spot continuously and sometimes knocked into the others in the line up. A speedy apology would fly out of my mouth. In response, I was always greeted with a smile and a relaxed "It's OK." Perhaps the unexpected body heat was a welcome respite.
Commiserating with fellow G1 wannabes (road test applicants can just walk-in, no waiting required), we shared sighs and complained about our numb toes. Occasionally, I would eye the Harveys across the street dreaming of a quick coffee run but I knew that I couldn't lose my spot. Too much was at stake.
A lovely lady waiting with her son, offered the warmth of her car to two freezing teenaged girls in front of me, promising them she'd keep their spot in line. The girls politely declined, however, the lovely lady went into her car and grabbed an extra coat to give them. Despite how cold I was feeling on the outside, the warm ray of her kindness fueled me on the inside.
As the crowd inched closer and closer to the Promised Door, I started to feel hope again. This is it, I thought. We're almost there. At one point, those of us in the front were all allowed in. Exclaiming, "I can't believe this!" I happily scampered inside. My visit in the Promised Land was tragically shortlived. An employee of the centre ordered us all out (I heard the words "numbers of people" and "fire hazard").
The wait after that felt especially cruel and unusual. With my constant uncoordinated movements during my stay warm exercise, my thighs had hardened into solid rocks. I decided right there and then that I would not need to exercise for 1 week following this flirtation with torture.
Finally, after a shocking 2 hour wait, I heard the words, "The next two." Those words were intended for the 16-year old in front of me and for yours truly. Shaking, not out of excitement, but out of sheer cold, I handed over my birth certificate and passport at the registration desk. A number was handed to me and I quickly found a seat beside a teenaged girl and her mother. Although I hd found a spot to sit, I learned that my rock hard legs were not agreeable to sitting. After some dramatic gestures, I forced my way into the seat. Feeling mortified, I laughed it off and quietly reminded myself that such incidents make for great comedic moments in storytelling.
My number was quickly called and I met with the administrator. My shaky hands struggled to sign my name but after a few attempts, my signing ability returned. A vision test here, a few questions there, and I thought the test would be handed to me to write. Not so fast. Full stop.
Being an insulin dependent diabetic, I'm considered disabled from the point of view of the Ontario Human Rights Commission. A fact that I myself was not aware of until a good friend of mine, also an insulin dependent diabetic, came over for tea this past Saturday and happened to mention that.
My administrator was informed by a colleague that due to my "insulin diabetes", my application would need to be reviewed by a medical board. The review board would contact my doctor and then a decision would be made as to whether I was eligible to write the test. The words, "She won't be writing today" hung shamefully in the air.
My mind racing, I showed a cool exterior, not hard to do since my body was still recovering from the cold, and smiled and politely asked for additional information regarding the review process. I bit down hard on my tongue and resisted the urge to ask why my diabetes was an issue now when it wasn't an issue as I stood outside for two hours.
My administrator, doing her due diligence, consulted with another colleague and checked the Rule Book. According to the rules, the diabetes is only an issue if there has been a reaction within the 1-year period preceding application. I confidently declared that I had not experienced any hospitalizations, ER visits, blah, blah, for my diabetes within the 1-year. After declaring a few more particulars regarding my diabetes and forking over the $125 fee, I was given my luminous white test paper.
Eagerly I sat down and began answering the multiple choice test. I breezed through it and then went over my answers. Changing only one answer and confident that I had answered most of the questions correctly, I placed my completed test in the to-be-marked-pile.
The wait for my result was long but I was not complaning - it was warm inside. With my BlackBerry hidden in my purse so as to not draw attention, I emailed friends and checked Facebook. I then practiced memorizing my speech for my Toastmasters meeting the following day. I went through this a few times before my name was called.
I passed. I'm now on the yellow brick road. If I enroll in a driver's school, which I will, I can take my G1 road test in 8 months from now. Otherwise, it's a 12 month wait. Next step: behind the wheel.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Writing as a job
Not as easy as I thought it would be. When I started this blog on Friday night, I was certain that the momentum would kick in, that I wouldn't need much of a push, that I would sit in front of the laptop and the words would fire away. Sitting at the community centre now on Sunday morning, with 1 child in dance class and 1 child working on an activity book waiting to go swimming, I am getting increasingly frustrated with how I can't conjure up delightful poetic images to appease a reader's palate. I stopped to send a quick email to someone to let her know about my blog. Now really, if I want people to read this, I'd better have substantial text to back it up.
"I don't know what to write about," I said to my husband. He replied, "You don't know what to write about?" and went back to reading his newspaper. I am blessed to have such bountiful wisdom at my fingertips. As the words hit the page, I let out my best witch cackle, which of course got his attention. We need to give husband a name. A few possibilities crossed my mind and then I decided on Mr. Unfazed. Over the years, my life partner has shown that he is not easily fazed by things.
A groan of frustration escapes me and I look around at the community centre to ensure that I haven't scared anyone too much. Perhaps I should just record the events naturally as they come and then my writing will evolve as I get more and more practice.
Let's start with this morning. My 3-year old, we'll call her Spitfire, has dance class starting at 8:30am. Her 5-year old sister, we'll call her LittleLady, has swimming starting at 9am. That means that we'd better be up by 7:30am to ensure bellies are fed, clothes are on and Mr. Unfazed and I have had our morning joe. Who am I kidding? Mr. Unfazed usually hits a Tim Horton's once Spitfire is in class. But I'm getting ahead of myself. At 7:35am, Mr. Unfazed wakes me up saying, "It's 7:35" (he has such a gift to state facts of a painfully obvious nature), "...and you said you wanted to be up at this time." I did indeed say that the night before. I said it because I wanted time to pass through the McDonald's drive-thru. I blame it on those new commercials with their bouncy, dance-friendly jingle. Yup that's it. The commercials. LittleLady enters the room groggy and unwilling to start her day. "I'm too tired", she exclaims as her hit heads the pillow and her eyes are shut tight. Hmm...I think...what to do to rouse LittleLady? "I'm going to give you a back rub to help wake you up gently", I say to her. She doesn't respond but doesn't yelp as I gave her a massage. I then whispered in her ear, "The sooner you wake up, the sooner we can go to the McDonald's drive-thru." LittleLady is unimpressed and lets out an "ehhh." This task will not be as easy as I had thought.
Stopped to get Spitfire ready for her swimming class at another community centre.
Will write more after doing some project management course work. It's an online course and I only have access to the content for another 14 days. eep.
"I don't know what to write about," I said to my husband. He replied, "You don't know what to write about?" and went back to reading his newspaper. I am blessed to have such bountiful wisdom at my fingertips. As the words hit the page, I let out my best witch cackle, which of course got his attention. We need to give husband a name. A few possibilities crossed my mind and then I decided on Mr. Unfazed. Over the years, my life partner has shown that he is not easily fazed by things.
A groan of frustration escapes me and I look around at the community centre to ensure that I haven't scared anyone too much. Perhaps I should just record the events naturally as they come and then my writing will evolve as I get more and more practice.
Let's start with this morning. My 3-year old, we'll call her Spitfire, has dance class starting at 8:30am. Her 5-year old sister, we'll call her LittleLady, has swimming starting at 9am. That means that we'd better be up by 7:30am to ensure bellies are fed, clothes are on and Mr. Unfazed and I have had our morning joe. Who am I kidding? Mr. Unfazed usually hits a Tim Horton's once Spitfire is in class. But I'm getting ahead of myself. At 7:35am, Mr. Unfazed wakes me up saying, "It's 7:35" (he has such a gift to state facts of a painfully obvious nature), "...and you said you wanted to be up at this time." I did indeed say that the night before. I said it because I wanted time to pass through the McDonald's drive-thru. I blame it on those new commercials with their bouncy, dance-friendly jingle. Yup that's it. The commercials. LittleLady enters the room groggy and unwilling to start her day. "I'm too tired", she exclaims as her hit heads the pillow and her eyes are shut tight. Hmm...I think...what to do to rouse LittleLady? "I'm going to give you a back rub to help wake you up gently", I say to her. She doesn't respond but doesn't yelp as I gave her a massage. I then whispered in her ear, "The sooner you wake up, the sooner we can go to the McDonald's drive-thru." LittleLady is unimpressed and lets out an "ehhh." This task will not be as easy as I had thought.
Stopped to get Spitfire ready for her swimming class at another community centre.
Will write more after doing some project management course work. It's an online course and I only have access to the content for another 14 days. eep.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
5 minutes
Five minutes. That's all I'm allowing for this blog entry. Then I need to stop. Ceremoniously, ok, unceremoniously shut down the computer and get ready for my Afternoon Tea today. For me, getting ready, is a multi-pronged endeavour. It's not just making raspberry scones or ensuring that my Royal Albert English Country Roses set is ready for use. It's also about setting a mood in the home. I start by ensuring that I'm happy in the home. If there's laundry to be done, I must toss it in. The humming and faint smells of detergent that sometimes permeate through soothe and invigorate me. That provides me with a sense of purpose. Same goes for a running dishwasher. That too gets me going. I guess I work better with noise. Something I always knew as a young student but had a hard time convincing teachers and parents of that. Another rule for blogging as I ramble along is that I'm not allowed to edit. I did edit earlier but I will stop now. I hear my email dinging and my blinged up Blackberry (a picture for another day) buzzing. I've got one minute left. My 3-year old, pretending to be a baby (role play), is screaming. When we ask her what's wrong, she says, "Wah wah." She stoppped. 5 minutes are up.
Friday, January 29, 2010
The Untidy Kitchen
I look nervously over my shouler, in fear of being caught. I know that I've been naughty. I have a friend coming over tomorrow and my kitchen remains untidy and somewhat uncleaned. I look back again to the stove where the baking tray has a couple more coconut lime macaroons (they're tasty, trust me) and am tempted to eat another macaroon, surf Facebook and basically shirk any real responsibility at the moment. Keeping this blog will be a good thing for me, I think. Now I'm accountable. Now I'm putting my naughtiness out for the world to see. It will make me more responsible. I almost LOL at that one. And no, I haven't been drinking. Off to clean.
It's time to stop hiding
I have time on my hands now. Or at least that's what I've told myself. It's been over 3 months since I was laid off from my job with an insurance company. Since then it's been a ride. I've thrown myself into cooking classes, sometimes fitness (not so good about that one but I do love zumba!), Toastmasters (I had started with my previous employer and there was no way I was going to stop!), a project management course (ends in 16 days, eep!), even attempted to join a writer's group (went to 1 meeting and everything, or as George Lopez would say, y todo) and getting my driver's license. I'm almost 35 years old and do not have a driver's license. Don't know how I've managed (actually yes, I do, public transit and charitable rides from friends and family). So now I'm going for it. I've been up to my eyeballs today in G1 online practice tests. OK. I exaggerate.
But I have gone through a lot of online practice tests.I guess my inspiration to make a serious attempt to blog came from watching Julie and Julia. How ingenious was that?! To cook recipes out of a book and write about it. Love it. Simple and beautiful.
But I'm rambling and am going nowhere. I guess for now, I'll stop. Finish cleaning my kitchen of the macaroon mess. Made coconut lime macaroons. Learned the recipe in a Thai cooking class this past week. Even made pad thai last night. So proud of that one.
ciao, will write again, I promise
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