September 30/12

I think we all have that one food or drink product that we miss, either because it no longer exists, or we've lost almost all access to it by living somewhere where it is not available.

Today, Etienne and I drove to two different grocery stores in search of a variety of products that his father asked for.  We got all of the products, except one, and we made a substitution in the hopes that it will satisfy.  Of all the things on the list, two types of cookie that are only available in Quebec, and two cereals were the priorities, but the one product we had to substitute is a type of baked beans that I'm not sure are even still made.  If they are they certainly aren't available in the Ottawa or Gatineau places we went to.

Anyway, for me, there are so many things that I miss, but the biggest one is the Better Batter ice cream flavour by Maggie Moo's.  We don't have Maggie Moo's in Canada, and the closest one in the US is several hours away.  At least when I was living in Vancouver, I could drive down to Burlington for a fix.  The Marble Slab Creamery in Canada has a cake batter-flavoured ice cream called Birthday Cake, and I do have access to that here in Ottawa, but it's a really weak substitute for the real thing.  The sad thing is that even if I had friends visiting Ottawa from a place where Maggie Moo's is available, I couldn't ask them to bring some because it's ice cream and it will melt.  That gives me a sad.

Better Batter ice cream...

...Wish you were here.

September 29/12

Today's WYWH moment could have easily been about my 15 seconds of fame on The Rachel Maddow Show.  I only got to bed at 1 this morning, and my stupid internal clock woke me up at about 6:30 this morning.  I struggled to get back to sleep, but after a while, I just gave up and got up to go about my morning routine, which includes checking my Twitter feed.  To my shock and delight, I learned that my big mouth and enormous sense of pride got me featured very briefly on my favourite news program in the US.  Well colour me gobsmacked!  So yes, today's moment could easily be that.

But it's not (consider the above as a bonus).

Just as my head was spinning at my newfound/short-lived fame this morning, the news broke that Omar Khadr was enroute to Canada, after having been confined in Guantanamo Bay prison camp for the past 11 years.  So I leave you with no doubt whatsoever, I have supported the campaign to bring him back to Canada.  He was convicted by a kangaroo court, based on evidence obtained by torture, and by the standards of international law, he was a child soldier.  While international law doesn't prohibit the prosecution of children who commit war crimes, article 37 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child does limit the punishment that a child can receive including "Neither capital punishment nor life imprisonment without possibility of release shall be imposed for offences committed by persons below eighteen years of age.

That the Harper Government™ has stonewalled and delayed repatriating him from Guantanamo Bay is shameful, and it makes a mockery of the so-called commitments this government makes to uphold International law and human rights.

Of course, I'm known for having opinions.  But today's moment is this:

"I sometimes get the feeling that Minister Toews verges on inciting hatred. What is so tragic is that a young soldier lost his life, a young child was punished by a war commission that is not even recognized in law. The Canadian government still seems hell bent on, and insists on, maligning and treating him like a demon when all over the world human atrocities (read China and Afghanistan) go unchallenged by our high horse government!"

This was posted on my parents' facebook wall, in response to an article about Khadr's return in their local big city newspaper.  Today's moment belongs entirely to my parents, whose interest in world events and politics has shaped who I am, and there should be no doubt where I get my social advocacy passion from.  As you can tell, I come by it honestly.

Parents...

...Wish you were here.

September 28/12

When you are sick, you look for any small comfort to cheer you up and distract you from the snotfest clouding your head (and maybe your judgment).

I was okay this morning, but by this afternoon, I was a bit feverish and sapped of all energy.  I had a sour belly, and I just wanted to go home and sleep.  Etienne went out after work, so I took the opportunity to spend some time with Rogers on Demand.  I watched "Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" first.  It was charming and cute, in a sappy way.  After that, I decided to catch up on The Daily Show with John Stewart.

And there it is...that small comfort.  I saw the John Oliver on Strike segment, which made me adore Patrick Stewart all the more.  I got to see Jon's monologue targeting the ridiculous Wile E. Coyote display Binyamin Netanyahu put on at the United Nations.  And I got to see Jon tell the story of two Canadian audience members in line for the show taping: the guy proposed to his girlfriend of eight years in line, and her priceless response was, "Fuck yes I'll marry you!"  Absolutely priceless!  For that brief hour of catching up, I forgot I was sick, and I just enjoyed my favourite kind of humour: satire.

Jon Stewart...(sniffle, sniffle)

...Wish you were here (sneeze).

September 27/12

I think I'm coming down with a cold or flu.  This is just great.  Unfortunately, it means that my day has been largely sluggish.

I worked feverishly (pardon the pun) to log a couple hundred search results for a file at work, then I took the later afternoon off to get my hair done.  My hair has been...well, lacklustre doesn't even adequately describe it.  I've been busy and broke, which means I've been deprived of hair care since December.  Before I coloured it today, I've been unable to describe my hair colour.  In fact, if someone were to ask, I would just say "I dunno....hair coloured?"  And after a wild speedboat run on the lake this summer, I had broken nearly every strand of hair on my head with all the tangles, so my hair texture has been dry and brittle.

Maybe the new 'do will inspire me to try harder with my appearance these days?  (I doubt it)

Due care...

...Wish you were here.

September 26/12

Today we learned that Andy Williams died yesterday, and somehow the media has overlooked his long career to pin his legacy directly to the song "Moon River."  He never recorded or released it as a single.  He sang it at the Academy Awards, if memory serves.  Rest in Peace, Andy.

But this is about the song.

Moon River is just a wonderful song.  Written by Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer, it was the signature song for the movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's.  I know Truman Capote was really pissed with the Hollywoodized adaptation of his novel, and in particular with the casting of Audrey Hepburn, but one thing that Blake Edwards got right was the commission of that song.  The tune is wistful and heartbreaking, but then you look at the lyrics, and they are so ambitious and adventurous.

Moon river, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way

Two drifters, off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see
We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend
My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me.

It would almost seem incongruous, that melody with those lyrics, if not for the story at the heart of Breakfast at Tiffany's--Paul and Holly are two drifters who have experienced loneliness, and have each created a façade (Paul, glib cynicism; Holly, a free spirit) to keep the world at arm's length, but they both want someone to share their journey through uncertainty.

It's a song I love to *try* to sing, but it was commissioned to suit Audrey Hepburn's lower register, and I am a soprano, so the best I can do is to take it up a full octave, and then it just sounds so..."Choral."

Moon River...

...Wish you were here.

September 25/12

This morning, Etienne was up earlier than normal, and moving quicker than usual.  A meeting at work?  No.  Early to arrive, early to leave?  No.

What's the *other* thing that might get a guy moving in the morning?

Video game release day!

This weekend, Etienne took in his FIFA 12 game to the EB Games, and while there, he pre-ordered FIFA 13, coming out on Tuesday, September 25th.  The cashier informed him that the store would be open at 8 am on Tuesday, and he could pick it up anytime.

I forgot about this, so I was surprised this morning when he went for a bus that didn't go to Gatineau.  We usually only do this when we are cutting through Rideau Centre for Starbucks. 

"Coffee?" I asked.

"No.  Something better.  Much better." he responded.

It took a few seconds for me to clue in... 

...Today was Game Day.

So I went for coffee while he went to claim his copy of the game (earning a limited edition metal case for his early efforts).  When he came to meet me, he noted that World of Warcraft was releasing their latest product today.  He commented that it made sense, as he didn't understand why the game store would be open at 8 am for FIFA 13.  I don't know if there had been a line-up, but yeah...

It reminded me of the ordeal that was getting niece, Miss M. a copy of the last book in the Twilight series.  This involved a pre-order screw up, a 6 hour wait in a line-up at a Chapters, and by default, putting up with a store full of teenagers waiting to rapaciously devour a book.  I've also seen the line-ups at Apple stores for the newest products, and I've seen the massive line-up to get in to the midnight showing of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace.

The thing is, it requires real dedication to camp out in line for something.  I spent some time today trying to figure out what I would wait in line to be among the first to obtain; at first, the only thing I came up with is my need to board an airplane as quickly as possible.  But then I remembered that I not only woke up quite early on a Sunday morning to secretly buy Etienne tickets to the Habs/Red Wings game in Montreal, I also commandeered his laptop to have two places in the queue in order to get the best tickets I could.  Does it count when it's done for someone else?

Devotion...

...Wish you were here.

September 24/12

Today I had to meet with my new manager about completing my PLA.

What's a PLA? 

It's a Performance and Learning Agreement.

The PLA is supposed to be for me to explain how I will meet the competencies required for my job, and what learning opportunities I would like to engage in through the coming year, as well as longer term career development opportunities I would like to engage in. 

One way to look at it is that I am supposed to present my laundry list of do's and want's, the manager signs off, and it's on the record that I have requested that I be given opportunities to meet my obligations and reach my goals.

But I'm on year 3 of requesting that I be sent for French language training.  In the end, I can ask, and I can write it up in my development learning plan until the cows come home, it doesn't make a difference, as I'm occupy a position that is profiled as "English Essential" which means I'm not required to be bilingual.  If I wanted to stay in government, this would limit my opportunities greatly, as I would be limited in the positions I could apply for, and I wouldn't be able to advance to management, a level where it's almost an unwritten rule that thou must be bilingual.  And the older I get, the harder it would be for me to learn a language to some degree of competency.  So, forgive me, but I'm too discouraged about my present situation to see the bright side.

Frustrated...

...Wish you were here.

September 23/12

I don't know if you follow PostSecret at all, but I do.  The Sunday Secrets are a part of my Sunday.  I'm usually up long before Etienne, and in those quiet minutes or hours before he gets up, I get some time with my cats, and I check the new secrets.

This morning, this was the first secret on the website (Image from PostSecret, September 23, 2012):

It reads, "Sometimes, being an interracial person who ONLY looks WHITE is really embarrassing and lonely.

Obviously we don't know who submitted this secret, but wow, did that ever hit me like a tonne of bricks.  It's the first time I've ever been able to look at a PostSecret and think, "Fuck, I could have sent that!"

I feel I need to clarify that it's been many years since I felt any embarrassment about appearing white but being mixed-race.  Lonely, yes, I've felt that, but I've learned that I have no reason to feel embarrassed about my appearance.  However, I have felt awkward and even shunned.  I remember an occasion when my white appearance put me in a confrontational situation.

I had a rough go of my first experience at college in a small community in Alberta, being away from my home in the Northwest Territories, and isolated.  I found myself in trouble, and had to leave school after a semester.  So I went back to Yellowknife and set my sites on applying to the University of Alberta.  My application was not successful under regular circumstances, but the University Admissions office took the unusual step of sending my application over to the Native Student Services office, because they offered a program called the Transition Year Program for Aboriginal Students (as I am a Status First Nations member), and I gained entrance into the University through this program.

At that time, the Native Student Services office shared an entrance with the Dean of Student Services, and each office had its own separate reception areas and student lounges.  At one point, only a week into school, a friend and I went into the Native Students’ Lounge to make a phone call, and when we walked in, we found three First Nations' ladies in there already.  They started to whisper amongst themselves; I was oblivious to this as I was on the phone, but my friend was aware of it, and when I got off the phone, she sort of tilted her head to indicate that something was going on.  To understand the dynamic, I have to explain something about our physical appearances: my friend was a Metis student, with fair skin, blonde hair and green eyes.  And even though I am considered a Status Indian by the Canadian government, the fact is that my father is half-Cree, half-Metis, and my mother is fully Caucasian, so I come out with fair skin, blonde hair and brown eyes. 

We had no sooner settled in to have a snack, when one of the older ladies finally spoke, “Do you even belong here?  This is the Native Students’ Lounge.”

My friend and I looked up and exchanged a surprised look, and for a moment, neither of us could believe what we were hearing.  White people have been in Canada for over 400 years at this point...isn’t it possible that there would be some mixing of races by now?  My friend looked quite upset once the full impact of those words hit her.  I could feel my cheeks starting to burn, and was aware that one of my hands had found its way into a fist position.  My heart was racing, and my breathing sped up, as I felt what I can only relate as the beginnings of a small anxiety attack, which I’ve had before, but this was slightly different, in that it was not anxiety that was getting me worked up, but indignation.  I was being confronted AS the OTHER by people I would have ordinarily not considered to be MY OTHER.  I grew up in Yellowknife, which is a small place, and everyone knows Jack Poitras’ kid, and doesn’t question that she looks white, but is Aboriginal.  But this was not Yellowknife.

Not always being one for a coolheaded response, I muttered to her that yes, we belonged there, and ended my statement with a somewhat defamatory cursive, grabbed my bag and dragged my friend out of there, fearful more than anything that this was what I could expect from now on.  This cultural response was foreign to me.  Experiencing racism from the other side was very much the “other” to me, and it was one of the few times when I was unable to keep my cool.  It was a poor response on my part, but I had so rarely encountered something like that before.

I never went back to that lounge.  Indeed, I cut my ties to the Native Student Services office, and I isolated myself from my Aboriginal peers.

That's not embarrassment.  But it is lonely.

Understanding...

...Wish you were here.

September 22/12

So, a thought occurred to me today:

What if I have no moment worth sharing on the blog?  Because today has been that kind of day.  I'm not sure what's going on, but I've been just fatigued all day, so my activities have been so mundane.  Etienne and I managed to run a few errands, and other than running into an army of women carrying green bags, it was a painfully ordinary trip around downtown Ottawa and the Byward Market.  When we came home, I couldn't muster the energy for much of anything, so we just say on the couch, watching old movies on TMC. 

It's 11 o'clock on a Saturday night, and I'm already in my jammies, ready to crawl into bed and get my REM sleep on.

Energy...

...Wish you were here.

September 21/12

Etienne typically doesn't like going straight home after work.  It's boring and makes for a long evening.  So tonight, to help him unwind after his day at work, and kill time, I steered us toward the Chapters.  Once inside, I wandered for a bit until I found myself in the Culture and Community section.  An oft-neglected section, I was just browsing because I love the sociological gems I can pick up here--some are very notable and prominent (eg. Barbara Ehrenreich's "Nickeled and Dimed"), other less so (eg. Robert Smith?'s* BRAAAIIINNNSSS: From Academics to Zombies)--but it's not Etienne's thing, so he headed off on his own.

I don't know what brought it to mind exactly, but I suddenly decided that I wanted to find 'The Tao of Pooh' by Benjamin Hoff.  Despite my love of Winnie the Pooh, surprisingly, I've read snippets, but never the whole thing.  So, I headed to the philosophy and religion sections (conveniently located right besides each other) and looked for it, but I didn't find it.  "Oh well," I thought, "Another time."

My browsing continued in another favourite section (Poetry) until Etienne came to find me to tell me he made his purchases and was ready to go.  He hinted that he bought me a couple of presents, and I was curious because I knew there was at least one (turned out to be "Introducing Rousseau: A Graphic Guide--as a primer for our trip to Geneva) because he was hiding it from me before we went our separate ways, but a second?

He reached into his bag, and pulled out..."The Tao of Pooh."  He found it in the "Manly Men" section of the store, and bought it for me.  It was a coincidence, but I had to laugh about his apparent mind-reading abilities.

...Wish you were here.

September 20/12

I just couldn't do it.

The idea of buying the scary underpants is a mental barrier I've been unable to conquer.  I've heard raving reviews about Spanx, but in the end, I couldn't get past the idea of shoving myself into scary underpants for an entire day.  I'll be honest, I had visions of the consternation that would accompany my first trip to the ladies' room, and of the affect the scary underpants would have on potential amorous adventures.

By way of punishment, I ended up buying a new dress.  I won't lie, the dress, a Diana Von Furstenberg, is really nice, and it looked good on, but if you are thinking, "A designer dress...exactly how is that a punishment?" let me enlighten you.  The dress, a Diane Von Furstenberg, comes with a noticable price tag.  As in, 'I've only ever owned one item of clothing that was more expensive, and that was my wedding dress.'  My bank account, I assure you, is feeling the punishment, which in turn is making me feel the punishment (now, and for weeks to come, I'm sure).

I really tried to find an alternative that worked.  I searched all kinds of stores for days, and tried on probably a dozen dresses, but nothing was working.  Poor selection, poor cuts and designs, not matching shoes bought specifically for this occasion, or only fair reactions at best from Etienne was making this a woeful experience. 

If you want a sneak peak, here you go.

My body from 3 years ago...

...Wish you were here.

September 19/12

Today has been a day of great news and achievement.

For other people.


One friend past a major milestone in her effort to achieve a major (and for now, secret) life goal, which I am aware of and totally support.  Another friend passed his thesis defense to earn his PhD in Philosophy. 

Meanwhile, I...well....uhhh....Erm.  Huh.  I've had a day where damn near every email I opened at work led to a meeting request for tomorrow.  I think I'll spend maybe 2.5 out of 7.5 hours actually at my desk tomorrow.  My work life as I know it will never be the same again.

So, I guess I need my rest.

Sleep...

...Wish you were here.

September 18/12

I'm not sure what's happening to me these days, but insidious, dark, evil thoughts of improved well-being are starting to creep into my life.

Today, I spent my lunch hour searching for alternatives to the chemical-filled, animal-tested skin and hair products I use (By the way, does anyone use Green Tea as a facial toner?  Does it work?).  Did I mention my lunch was a meal-sized portion of arugala and spinach salad with sun-dried tomato dressing and half a boneless, skinless chicken breast?  And my snacks so far have been cheese, apples, and grapes?

Yesterday, without consultation with Etienne, I switched our toothpaste brand to Colgate, and furthermore announced I was switching our dishsoap to Palmolive because Colgate-Palmolive has undergone a massive turnaround to improve its ethical record by striving to end, reduce, and replace animal-testing its products, by instituting HR changes to become an LGBT- and family-friendly group of companies, and by working to receive LEED certification for its manufacturing plants. 

The day before that, I looked up natural alternatives to household cleaning products in order to reduce the chemical footprint, which is not only better for the environment, but also better for my increasingly-sensitive respiratory system.  Obviously I can't give up all chemical products, but if I can reduce them by, let's say, a quarter, I'd feel better.

I've jogged and done pilates nearly everyday for three weeks now.  As soon as the weather stops cooperating, I'm going to start going to the gym.  I'm cooking and preparing lunches to take to work.  I'm pestering poor Etienne to within an inch of his sanity about recycling. 

It's like I'm trying to become a healthier, more well-balanced person or something.  Like...fuck, what happened to the reliable, old me who just didn't care?

I'll admit that I've had my bad days too.  Yesterday I fell completely off the wagon.  After waking up completely disoriented, my day went downhill.  I accomplished little of value at work, my Coach sunglasses "mysteriously" disappeared at a store at the Rideau Centre, I must have tried on a dozen dresses because I'm not fitting into the one I wanted to wear for a wedding in October, and I was pissed-off enough to skip the healthy carrots for a bag of Old Dutch Cheese-flavoured Nacho chips.  All I needed was to get drunk off my ass and a big slopping supper laden with fat, salt and cholesteral, and my fall off the wagon/bad day would have been complete.

I wonder...if I wasn't so fucking poor all the time thanks to my slavish debt-servicing, would I be striving to make these changes in my life?  It's hard to say without the ability to peek into alternate universes...

...Wish you were here.

September 17/12

Today's moment occurred at the exact time of my alarm clock.  7:00 AM.

The alarm went off, and I had no idea of anything.  I didn't know when it was, what day it was, and I think I had a brief second of not recognizing myself.  That's a fucking scary feeling.  I've woken up to the same brown wall since we painted the bedroom almost a year ago, but damn if that wall didn't look familiar.  After a few seconds, things returned to normal, and I remembered that it was , 7:00 Monday morning, I was in my bed, looking at my wall.  

Monday mornings are hard enough without having to deal with complete disorientation.  I'm afraid my day did not improve from that point on.

Awareness...

...Wish you were here.

September 16/12

Today was Adopt-A-Pet at one of the PetSmarts here in town, and as I walked into the store, it gave me great joy to see a guy standing in line with a cat carton.  He had adopted a cat.  I hope tonight that he and his kitty are settling in nicely, and that a loving bond grows between the cat and all of the people in the household.

I recognize that this weekend seems to have a pet theme, but out of yesterday's sadness and loss, I look at my own two cats, and the impact they have had on my life, and I can't imagine how someone could *not* get great joy out of the love our animal friends bestow on us.

Pet love...

...Wish you were here.

September 15/12

Today, my sister's family said goodbye to a family member.  Mr. Sullivan J. Daniels (a.k.a. Sully, Sul-Sul) was a nine and a half year old Golden Labrador, and he was the sweetest, most loyal, and sometimes the goofiest dog.  He came to the family as my nephew, B2's 4th birfday present, and he was much beloved by us all.  Whenever I visited Yellowknife, I was just as eager to see Sully again as I was rest of the Danielses.

In these last weeks, he may have developed a tumor, which caused internal bleeding.  An operation was deemed to have little chance of success, and it was a hard decision, but to keep poor Sully from suffering, they had to put him down.

Sully, 2003 - 2012...

We all miss you...

...Wish you were here.

September 14/12

This day was almost predestined to end badly, and I could feel it this morning.

We were at the Campus bus stop waiting for a bus headed to Gatineau where we work.  After about 5 minutes, a #40 came into sight, which was great because it skips the long meander through Lebreton and the goofy loop through the 10 Wellington complex that the #8 bus does before it drops us off at the Promenade du Portage complex we work at.  I hate that #8 bus in the mornings.  I feel like it makes me late.  The #27 and the #40 both get through downtown and then turn off and head straight for the Promenade du Portage drop off.

Well, the fucking bus tore right through the stop and we were stuck taking the stupid #8.  Despite some good things happening, I just had a feeling the day would end badly.

Fucking bus...

...Wish you were here.

September 13/12

I was on a mission today.

I quickly found the songs I would use to make custom ringtones for various people and my default ringtone, but I needed one for my parents' home number.  It was really important, because that number is at the heart of home.  I miss Vancouver a lot, and my parents being there motivates me to get back as soon as I can.  So I had some pretty key criteria for choosing a song:

A) it had to evoke home;
B) it had to be awesome, and if possible, classic; and
C) it couldn't be overly sappy.

I did consider a riff from "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes, but that's really more a song for that special someone in your life, not for the parents you do love, but not in that way.  A couple of Leonard Cohen songs were briefly fiddled with, but they weren't meeting all the criteria.  "Home for a Rest" by Spirit of the West got serious consideration, but it drudges up some slightly unpleasant memories of the time my parents wrongly staged a telephone/email intervention because I was facebooking about drinking while at pub trivia nights and Friday nights, and they felt I was sliding down toward alcoholism. 

I was running out of options, and had decided to put the project on hold until later tonight.  As I was leaving work, I put the iPhone on shuffle, and then it happened...

...the opening guitar riffs of "Paradise City" by Guns 'n' Roses.  Ho.ly.Fuck.Yes.

Take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green, and the girls are pretty;
Take (Oh won't you please take) me home, yeah!

It's awesome, it's classic, it's not sappy, and it totally makes me think of home!

Home...

...Wish you were here.

September 12/12

I haz iPhone!

Today I said goodbye to poor little Scarlett (the Blackberry) because she was old, and let's face it, she might as well have been analog.  Sad.  I'll miss her ringtone (Red House by Jimi Hendrix) and the BBM function, but it's time to move on.

I got myself a white 4S, which I have named Isla iPhone.  Etienne's iPhone is black (as is that of most people I know), so white works out well, we'll never confuse our phones, leading to the chaos, adventure and eventual romance, complete with two cute little kids a la "One Fine Day."

So yes, I suppose other things happened today, including my discovery of the fact that Catherine the Great of Russia was born in Pomerania, but really, the big news is the sad send off of Scarlett and the welcome of Isla.

Let the search for new ringtones begin!

...Wish you were here.

September 11/12

Today I learned that there is a world championship for, uhh...it's quidditch?  Is that is?  Quiditch?  Quibids?  Whatever.  Can you tell I've never read the Harry Potter series or seen the movies?  What I do know is that there's something about the kids in that school flying about on broomsticks for this game.

Anyway, I know this because I know someone who knows a guy on Team Canada.  And while I found it bizarre that people took this made-up game from a junior literature series and made it a real game, I seriously busted a lung laughing so hard when I was told the real-life version involved these people running around with brooms between their legs.  It's a mental picture that I find utterly ridiculous.  And then there's something about a person in a white suit with socks on his or her ears?

Is this stuff for real?  I'm confused about why people over the age of nine would run around with brooms between their legs, playing imaginary games, but I'm downright gobsmacked that it's got a world cup.

Explanations...

...Wish you were here.

September 10/12

You'd better be acquainted with the Flight of the Conchords.  Today's moment of happy is a FOTC moment: Hurt Feelings (Tears of a Rapper)

I always save a special giggle for the forgotten birfday bit because one year I waited for a call from my parents, and it didn't come, so I called them, and my poor mummy...she asked why I was calling, and I had to remind her.  That birfday was a particularly sucky one because it was about 13 months after the loss of my Gramma (she and I shared a birfday), my hair appointment went awry with a hair dresser covering an unskilled trim with too much hairspray, and the weather made everyone cancel on coming out for dinner and drinks.  I had hurt feelings, to say the least.

Oh, for the silly days of youth!

...Wish you were here.

September 9/12

Once more with feeling...

Today I did very little.  I did manage to go for a run and do pilates, but after that, the day was pretty low key.  I lacked energy because I was awakened at 5 am by a kitty surprise (I'll spare you the details), and I had such a hard time going back to sleep.  I'd consider my biggest achievement to be cooking chicken.

I remember when my days weren't quite so mundane, but that was back when I wasn't living pay cheque to pay cheque under a brutal loan repayment schedule.  I had more fun then.  I went out more, I found more ways of being social.

Oh fun...

...Wish you were here.

September 8/12

Okay, I admit, I took the day off from life today.

I got up this morning and got ready to run, but by the time I got dressed and ready to limber up, the skies opened up and the inches of water that poured down were on par with what you might see during the wet season in southern Asia.  Needless to say, I didn't go for a run.  Instead, I went to the basement of the building and did something that might have looked utterly insane if anyone had seen it: I did lap after lap of speed walking up and down the narrow "hallway" that runs from the front of the building to the back for about 25 minutes.  Just back and forth...front wall-touch-turn-back wall-touch turn, repeat.  I suppose this counts as being active?

After that, I halfheartedly struggled through an abs routine, and from there, my day sort of melted into a series of podcasts and boredom.  I couldn't even be bothered to think.  Not a single creative or original thought crossed my lazy mind today.

It's like the intense line of thunderstorms outside was the perfect excuse to revert to being a useless blob.

Let's hope I get back on track tomorrow!

...Wish you were here.

September 7/12

It's Friday!

I took some time to look at my options for further education, and I actually got excited enough to squeal when I saw one program.  Did I mention I did this at my desk?  At work?  Yeah.  That was me.

This is not the first time this has happened.  When I found the MPP program, I did a couch dance.

Yes, I'm a school-addict.

...Wish you were here!

September 6/12

Today was one of those days where I just had to keep pushing myself to achieve something, and once I did, I could only feel wiped right out.  I suppose the sense of achievement will come later?

At work, it was a long, hard brain-slog, as I struggled to revise a discussion paper about program policy changes and its accompanying annex on proposed options to fill a gap in program policy.  To many of you, this probably reads "Wah wahh wahh wahh wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wahh" but to a policy analyst (we're also known as wonks), you know that this means an 8-hour battle of wits to piece together the best arguments based on extensive research that will hopefully stand up to the willful and wanton scrutiny of senior bureaucrats.  Or more simply: Pulling an all-dayer.

At home, it was a long, hard body-slog, as I virtually forced myself out for my evening jog and pilates routine (tonight, it was buns and thighs night!) on pain of death (or, you know, a heaping portion of self-scorn and loathing).  As I sweated myself fit, I wondered if there was any hope of achieving my goal of literally working my ass off by October.  I set a hard target of reducing the ass measurement by two inches so I can save some money and wear a dress I already own instead of going broke and hungry because I had to buy a dress that fits.  I'm so out of shape, a 1 km run is all my lungs can manage at this point.  Oh, the shame!  Me!  I used to cross-country run in junior high (albeit poorly...turns out I've always been a sprinter, built for short bursts of speed, not steady-paced longevity), and now I can just squeeze out a run to the armory and back.  *Sigh*

Some days, it's hard to see how your efforts will win out. 

...Wish you were here.

September 5/12

I am a proud auntie to three nephews and a niece.

They all give me reasons to be proud, but today's moment is about my baby girl.

Miss M is the oldest of the bunch.  Her father is 11 years older than me, so when she was born, I was still in high school.  There's a mere 15 year gap between Miss M and Me, so she and I have sort of grown up together.  It's hard to believe she's a woman of 18 now.  It seems like just yesterday, she was a determined little 7-month old, crawling around her grandfather's house, terrorizing my sister's cat.

Anyway, tonight, she tweeted me a question about a school application, and as the conversation progressed, it came out that she's upgrading some grade 12 courses to improve her opportunities for university next year.  At her age, I'd already made some hasty decisions that lead to traumatic consequences, so to hear her talk with such a level head and focus, I'm so impressed.

My mother and my sister have said on many occasions that she and I are a lot alike, and I've seen for myself many similarities, but where I stop is that I'm seeing her sort of follow my footsteps without making my mistakes.

I haven't seen Miss M since 2008, but we've maintained good contact via the interwebz and mobile technologies, so it goes without saying that I miss her like crazy.

Miss M...

...Wish you were here!

September 4/12

Does everyone else remember being 9 years old?  How simple and enjoyable it could be?

This morning, my former manager had her 9-year-old son in at work, thanks to the elementary schools in Quebec being closed for the election.  At one point, she brought him to my cubicle, which she has often described as a play room or romper room.  It's true, I have toys, and stuffed animals, and wicked-cool posters, and funny books, and novelties, and stuff that might appeal to a 9 year old.

The first thing he went for was my Staples Easy Button™, but it turned out that the batteries were dead (in fact, they had burst, and I was left cleaning up the mess of dried battery acid juice).  Bummer, but still, a 9 year old moves on quickly...and he did.

Right to my lint roller.  I'm not kidding.  He saw it, and excited announced "Schticky!" In fact, it's not a schticky, it's just a plain old 3M lint roller, but it didn't matter, he went right for it and played with it while his mother and I chatted. 

The final thing that caught his eye was this:

Indeed, he loved the cute dinosaur, and the idea that 'Rawr' could mean 'I love you.'

It just reminds you how much fun life can be when viewed through the eyes of an enthusiastic young boy.

Wish you were here.

September 3/12

Oh.  My.  Gawd.

I've recently picked up some new podcasts, and I'm in the process of listening to back episodes in order to catch up.  One of these podcasts is the incredibly funny and totally absurd My Brother My Brother and Me which is a trio of brothers who provide 'advice' for questions sent in by listeners, or plumbed from the depths of Yahoo Answers for questions that they can answer.  The McElroy brothers are a little sheltered with regards to the stranger or kinkier things in life, but they are hella funny, and this podcast is good for some really big laughs.

Anyway, the last segment of each show is the youngest brother, Griffin, providing a Yahoo Answers question which is meant to be a weird, fucked-up laughfest that will be unanswered by the brothers.  So tonight, while Etienne plays on the playstation, which is connected to the only TV in the house with cable, I'm just sitting here listening to these back episodes.  I was literally in the middle of writing a WYWH post for today, when I heard the following question, and I swear, my Daily WYWH changed in a split second:

Posted on Yahoo Answers: "Why can't I stop watching porn, and what is your favourite Disney movie?" 

I tried not to bust an exercise-deadened gut laughing.  An earlier episode featured a Yahoo Answers user asking when is a good time to have "the talk" with her cat, who was 8 years old (uhh, cats begin sexual activity at 1 year old).  And all I can think is...are people for real?  I know a lot of them are just fucking around on the internet, but then what about those people who are actually asking such absurd questions in earnest?

Oh.  My.  Gawd.

Wish you were here.

September 2/12

Music.  Gawd, what it does to me and for me!  I swear, no force on earth can influence my mood with more ease and finesse. 

For instance, in the summer of 2009, I had to come to Ottawa for a co-op term, and I met Etienne through other students here doing co-op terms.  By chance, a friend and I ran into Etienne a week after meeting him, and we adjourned to his place for an evening of drinking and music.  That evening, he played a compilation album called Pink Floyd Redux: A New Music Experience for us.  It's an album of Pink Floyd covers done by various Canadian female artists, and some of those covers were sublime.  It goes without saying that this blog shares a name with a massively awesome Pink Floyd hit song called 'Wish You Were Here' and I would be remiss if I didn't at least acknowledge that coincidence, but while the original song is brilliant, this moment to share is actually about a little known cover by Pascale Picard, the lead singer of the Pascale Picard Band out of Quebec City.  The Pink Floyd original is cherished because those words are attached to a specific meaning, but young Pascale Picard's interpretation is amazing.  It's simple and pure, and it doesn't suffer under any diva-like tendencies by trying to force the lyrics to be about her amazing talent.

how I wish--

how I wish you were here

we're just two lost souls 

swimming in a fish bowl 

year after year 

running over the same old ground 

what have we found? 

The same old fears.

Wish you were here.

After the alienation of the first two verses, in which the questioner tries to understand if a person with whom he or she has a long, close relationship has shed or sacrificed personal values for some reason, it's clear that the questioner still seeks to to make sense of what is going on now, or establish some sense of continuity, by looking back on the safety of a shared experience.  As if to say, 'Oh, you want changes?  Fine, but remember who you were?  Because I do.'

See?  There I go, slipping into the world music creates for me.  I wonder if it's possible to share that world.  Not all the time, but sometimes.  Because it's such a powerful, meaningful place, and I wish everyone could just feel it once, the way I do.

Wish you were here.

September 1/12

It's getting on the end of summer soon, and the weather is still hot, but the bite of the humidly hot days is easing, allowing the residents of this city to enjoy pleasant evenings, spent on patios and decks.

Etienne and I are fortunate to live in a very nice, rather large apartment on a mostly-quiet section of a very loud street.  One of the perks of this apartment is that it has a good-sized patio deck at the back, off our bedroom.  This summer, we purchased a small, portable charcoal grill which has allowed some variation in our rather stale diets.

Since Etienne's a vegetarian, it falls on me to do the grilling, and so on a pleasant evening with the sun setting earlier and earlier these days, I have the privilege of carefully managing the cooking of two dijon-rubbed chicken breasts, one fat, juicy meat hamburger, and one decidedly lifeless-looking little gluten-free veggie pattie. 

The cats usually make a run for the patio as soon as there is a hint of opening the door, but for some reason, tonight there's hesitation.  It takes a while, but Princess Purrball finally makes her way out, and settles as far away from the door as she is allowed to, given that there are stairs going up and down that the cats are not permitted to traverse.

The coals are nice and hot, with some flames still dancing about, the meat and faux-meat are cooking nicely, and the evening air is warm, but fresh.  All this picture lacks is a nice, cold Stella or Czechvar.

...Wish you were here.