Start Your Engines

I don't think I've blogged much about my brother's hobby, have I? He races go-karts competitively. I know...cool, huh? He bought a kart (which I always describe as a chassis with a lawn mower engine and a steering wheel) and all the associated gear. He looks kind of impressive when he's all suited up, doesn't he? Funny story: the place where he ordered his shoes turned out to not have the ones he wanted, so they gave him a pair of better shoes for the same price. They're flame retardant. I asked him what the odds are that he would need flame retardant shoes, and he said very small. But in the event that there is some kind of spectacular accident, every part of his body will go up in flames, except for his feet.

This is his first year, so he's "the Rookie". Today was his fourth race. Usually, his friend Calin goes with him when he races, but he's in Romania for two months, so I've been recruited to help him out in the pit. I've already helped him once on Canada Day. While it may sound glamourous (or not), all it really involves is some heavy lifting, and a lot of sitting and waiting. Each weight and engine class (novice, junior light, junior heavy, senior light, senior heavy, junior rotax, senior rotax, and masters) goes through four rounds: practice, qualifying, pre-final, and final. So, you can imagine how uneventful it can be. But today was kind of exciting. I almost got run over by a junior heavy kart. Apparently his brakes malfunctioned during the practice and he came off the track with no way of stopping. He somehow managed to steer his way around everyone standing in the pit before being pulled to a stop by some of the fathers.

It was also "picture day". They had a professional photographer on the track taking pictures of the racers. I told Steve that he probably has some of the best shots in the group because, as opposed to the more experienced drivers who were always going around in a group, he was always by himself at the back of the pack.

But it's all in good fun. He had a good practice, but his qualifying round was pretty poor. Turns out his rear axle had become loose and was shifting around. We didn't realize this until just a few minutes before the pre-final. One of the fathers (also named Steve) helped him out and we were able to get him onto the grid just as they were about to start. That improved his performance drastically, and by the end of the final, he had beaten his previous race's best time by a second. And nobody lapped him. So now he's pretty confident that he'll be able to finish second-last next time. Hopefully he'll be able to race against his new nemesis, #7. He probably would have passed #7 this time if the other guy didn't suffer a setback in the first lap of the race and had to pull out.

Until we meet again...

"He's going the distance, he's going for speed"

Strap On Your Tango Shoes

My taste in music is varied, to say the least. I'll pretty much listen to anything and everything. My brother Steve is very similar, but he experiences waves of interest. He'll like a certain kind of music or artist for several months, and then it will be replaced with something almost completely different. He's gone from Mozart to the Spice Girls to Shania Twain to Diana Krall to Linkin Park to Bond to Stars, from what I can recall. I'm sure there were other flavours in between. Lately, he has developed a taste for tango music. So he asked me if I wanted to join him to see a band called Narcotango, who was playing at a place downtown last night. I said okay.

We got to the venue (a former church, it would seem) a little late, so there were no seats available. We went upstairs and surveyed the scene. The stage was set up where I suppose the altar would have been, and there was a bar in the back. The balcony wrapped around the perimeter, so we had a pretty good view of the dance floor below. There was a DJ spinning some interesting tango music, and people started dancing.

Being a girl, the first thing I noticed was the shoes. All of the ladies had similar looking shoes: high heeled, closed toe, with straps across the middle. Some of the designs were a little different, and although most of them were black, there were some white pairs and even red. These ladies came prepared to dance.

Then there was the dancing. It was fascinating watching these people move. Their legs kept weaving back and forth. A few times there were couples who almost collided, but otherwise everyone continuously moved chaotically around the floor with no problems. There was a boy who was trying to cross the room, and it was like watching a game of Frogger.

The demographics were all over the map, people from all ages and ethnicities. The combinations ranged from professional-looking couples with the women in flowy dresses, to casually dressed couples, to a pair of ladies dancing together, to a single woman twirling around by herself. Every couple was moving to a different rhythm and tempo, despite the fact that they were all listening to the same music. It looked really fun, although I wasn't about to try since I was with Steve and I have no idea how to tango. Plus I'm not entirely sure that I can handle that level of coordination.

"Now I've had the time of my life, no I've never felt this way before"

London Calling

My heart sank this morning as I listened to the news of the bombs in the London transit. Naturally, it stirred up the memories of my trip to London just over a month ago. Looking at the locations of the explosions also made me pause a little, noting that they were all in close proximity to my hotel. I, like almost everyone in the city, took the Underground everywhere every day, and became a pro to the point where I was giving directions to people who asked me. I could still hear the voice of the train's automated announcer, calling out the stations as we approached them.

Edgware Road...
Russell Square...
King's Cross-St. Pancras...
Aldgate...

Of course, my thoughts then went to my cousin. Thankfully, she's fine and was not in the vicinity at the time.

It's a little staggering to think about how one day you can be so deliriously happy, and the next day so profoundly sad. I hope that any and all of your friends and relatives in London are safe tonight.

"London calling to the faraway towns, now that war is declared and battle come down"

Lessons in Futility

I have returned! Europe was awesome, to say the least. Too much to say here, the blog would go on forever and ever. So I'll just highlight the weather (much nicer than expected, which caused a slight wardrobe dilemma), the sights (climbed a lot of towers, saw a lot of dead kings and queens, and almost everywhere I went I wasn't allowed to take photos, so I have a lot of scenery shots and funny road signs), and the people (damned if I wasn't hit on by a dirty old English man...but I met a nice Australian guy and actually ran into a friend in the most unexpected place, so it evened out).

I got back last Sunday night/Monday morning. Then on Tuesday I went to the Killers concert. Very cool show. During Louis IV's opening set, I got a call on my cell from Jocelyn. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to carry a conversation with her, but I answered it anyway since I don't have voice mail and I wanted to let her know where I was. My first words were "I can't hear you".

It's funny how people will not give up trying to get into a place where they are not allowed to go. Like the pit in front of the stage. If you don't have the right ticket, security is not going to let you in. But the one blond girl was trying to work her way in all night. At one point I saw her walking around in the pit between bands. But she left, and when she tried to get back in, the five-foot-tall security girl would not let her. Which begs the question, why the hell did she get out of the pit??

And then there was the poor guy who was trying to find his seat throughout the Killers' set. He walked back and forth past me and my brother, and at one point asked us where he was but I couldn't see his ticket. Finally, when they were playing their last song, he asked the short security girl for help. Her gestures seemed to indicate that his seat was WAY farther back than where he was at the moment. He left, and then the show was over. How sad is that?

Before I left for my vacation, there was a slight flutter of excitement at my house, when my brother got a message from Maple Leaf Entertainment (or something) concerning season tickets of some sort. My brother was bummed out, because even in the event that hockey is resurrected this year, he still has to go back to school in September. I made it very clear that I WILL PAY FOR THEM. When I returned, I eagerly asked him what happened. Unfortunately, the season tickets were for the AHL. Although he wouldn't mind seeing the Marlies, he decided to turn them down. Here's the irony: if you get AHL season tickets, you'll get five pairs of Leafs tickets as part of the deal. He's still on the waiting list, but the guy basically told him that he won't get a chance at Leafs season tickets in his lifetime. There are 4000 people in the line ahead of him, and the line moves less than 10 people a year. I wonder if they will let your children take your place in line after you're gone...

And finally, I just tried yet again for Coldplay tickets, and yet again, it sold out instantly. Well, it took two minutes this time, instead of 30 seconds. Boo.

"How long before I get in, before it starts, before I begin"

Do You Know The Muffin Man?

It's a dark and stormy night. Man...am I tired.

But, like every night for the past two months, I've been preoccupied with thoughts of Europe. And now, with one week to go, the anticipation is killing me.

I have resolved not to muck around with my travel plans any further. I've rearranged everything at least once, if not twice, and each time I found something new that I want to squish into the four and a half days that I have to spend in London. I've micro-managed every minute, starting from the moment I step off the plane. I think I'm being really optimistic about my level of energy on the day I arrive, but we'll see how it goes.

Thank goodness Kimmy will be with me in Copenhagen. We've already discussed what we're going to do while I'm there, but the bonus is that she knows where she's going and what we should and shouldn't see. So I've left that part of the trip well enough alone.

One of my recent additions to my whirlwind tour of London is dinner and a show. I found a restaurant in Covent Garden that offers dinner and theatre packages. How could I possibly go to the theatre capital of the world and not go to a big production? So, upon examination of my options, I've got a ticket to see The Producers. I still feel bad that I didn't go see it when it was here, but now's my chance, and it's actually cheaper (wow...I found something in London that's cheaper than it is here?). What made it especially funny is that the theatre where the show is playing is Theatre Royal Drury Lane. That's right, I'm going to Drury Lane.

Can't...hardly...wait...

"Then I saw her face, now I'm a believer"

Random Ranting

That silly Milk contest is back. The one where you call the hotline and can win all kinds of prizes if you have a milk barcode or something. I think I prefer the mooing milk carton. Plus, the TV commercial just weirds me out. For some reason, I find the concept of jingling teats to be kind of unnerving.

So a beer truck tipped over in the express lanes and spilled its precious cargo. Yes, it's a tragic loss. But what peeved me more were the stupid rubberneckers who cracked up in the collector lanes at around the same place. Thanks for making it impossible for anyone to get to work on time.

Lately, I've noticed that when I'm in a state of semi-unconsciousness, there is one pivotal point where I have a breakthrough. Either it's a solution to something that I'm having difficulty with, or it's a spontaneous good idea, or it's something that I have to remember to do. It's at that moment that I snap back to consciousness, and I know that I had meant to do something, but I completely forget what it is. It's unbelieveably frustrating. Come back, good idea! Come back!

"Ageless beauty, cruelty makes its holes but on the shoreline, time will hold its promise"

Daddy-O

It was my daddy's birthday on Saturday. The big 6-0. I put my foot down and insisted that we throw some semblance of a party for him. We compromised with a mah jong extravaganza that was probably more enjoyed by my mother. But Daddy won $100, so I'm sure he enjoyed it a little too.

The gifts were pretty standard, but amongst the bottles of wine was one little bonzai tree. I suppose Auntie Stella thought that he would have time to take care of it. Or maybe it would just serve as a means to de-stress. Unfortunately, I don't see that happening.

In an unprecedented move, my brother stepped up and bought the gift this time: an HP PDA. (He said he knew a guy who could get a deal. I decided not to let him divulge any further details to me) One of the more pricier gifts that we've ever given, for sure. Steve said he was tired of having Post-Its strewn all over the computer desk. Of course, guess who got to play with it first out of the box...

Saturday was also an exciting time for a friend of mine who had started his own consulting company straight out of university. After two years they had finally outgrown his living room and so they made the bold move to an office building at King and Dufferin. It's a nice building, complete with an exercise facility, a lounge and a covered patio. Very nice digs. The grand opening/ribbon cutting ceremony was a big event. They even had a raffle. I won a laptop bag (if only I had a laptop to put in it...).

"Sometimes you can't make it on your own"

Just Checking In

Hey.

How's it going? Staying out of trouble?

Good.

Yeah, things are okay with me. Just haven't been blogging, that's all. Not much to say. The routine has kicked in really well.

Actually, I've been participating in more spending sprees. But everything I've bought is vacation-related, so I figure that it's "essential".

My weekend hasn't really gone according to plan. Couldn't do laundry due to unforeseen plumbing issues in my basement. We're going to have to call in a professional tomorrow.

Hey, here's something funny that my brother told me. There's a type of landmine that he uses during training that has these instructions on it: "This side towards enemy". That's so reassuring and frightening at the same time. Kind of like the instructions on a rocket launcher: "Point away from face".

Anyway...

Later.

"A few times I've been around that track, so it's not just gonna happen like that"

Good-bye Big Five...

I came home this afternoon and he was gone...

My parents sold the Big Five. I think my father put the ad in the paper yesterday and at 8 o'clock this morning people were already calling. Big Five went to a guy who lived close by and apparently had a Big Five of his own, leading us to conclude that he was buying ours for parts.

"Dad, I think he's an ivory dealer. His boots are ivory, his hat is ivory, and I'm pretty sure that check is ivory."
"Lisa, a guy who's got lots of ivory is less likely to hurt Stampy than a guy whose ivory supplies are low."

How appropriate that this episode aired today.

So sad...so many memories. And now we're going to get a car that will fit into the same amount of space as the hood of the Big Five.

"I got me a Chrysler, it's as big as a whale, and it's about to set sail"

A Long Way To Go For Coffee

I may or may not have mentioned this in the past, but I regularly eat lunch with the managers of my department. It's not a strategic suck-up thing, it's more of a force of habit. When I was in co-op I was occasionally the only student in the whole company, and so when it was lunch time, I would sit and eat with my supervisor. So it just happened naturally. It's also more about convenient timing (they just happen to eat lunch at the same time I do).

Anyway, we were eating lunch today, chatting and laughing as usual (these ladies crack me up all the time...we're the noisiest table in the cafeteria). There was a sort of lull in the conversation, and I decided to embark on a new topic.

"So...I'm going to Europe in May."

"WHAT?" was the general reaction. Then Renata made a note of how casually I just dropped this information into the conversation, as though I were saying, "I'm going out for coffee." I guess I didn't realize how big of a deal this is. But yeah, I suppose I did say it with about as much enthusiasm and excitement as a girl who was going to the mall. Okay, maybe even less than that.

But the fact is, I really am extremely excited about this trip. My last European conquest was concentrated in France. This time I'm taking on the UK and Denmark. I know what you're thinking...Denmark?? But my plan of attack for this continent has consistently been focused on places where I know someone who's there. In this case, it's my cousin who's working in London for a couple of years and my friend who's studying in Copenhagen. Things haven't been completely finalized yet, but I'm already counting down the days when I'll be jetting off over the Atlantic yet again. The logistical planning has been going on for a couple of weeks now, timing everything so that every available moment is being effectively used to experience these countries. Maybe I'll even have a free minute to get a coffee. Or a Danish. (ha ha)

"This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go somewhere only we know"

Eine Kleine Nacht...Skiing

It has been around twelve years since I went skiing at night. Yesterday, I left work early, got home, picked up my skis and my parents and headed up to Horseshoe Valley. We got there around 5:00 so we checked in, got something to eat, then headed to the room. I let my dinner settle for a minute, then strapped on my gear and headed to the hill.

Okay, so it was a little frosty outside, and I could really only handle about an hour and a half before my toes felt like they had curled up and died, but it was so worth it. The world was quiet and crispy, the snow made the cool swooshy sound as I glided down the hill, and it was so nice and DARK, with all the twinkly stars overhead.

That was great until I went back to the hill this morning. It was the most perfect day for skiing. Sunny and not too cold at all. My parents took off to find the casino, and I spent four great hours swooshing again. Well, the day wasn't entirely perfect (there were a MILLION children running around, screaming, falling all over the place), but it was very close. I think I was able to improve my technique a little, but I'm still wary of anything beyond a blue square. The sad thing was that I saw someone wrapped around a tree. I didn't see the person exactly, just an arm and a hand. There was a narrow gap between one of the chair lifts and a grove of trees. If you didn't stop or turn in time, it was possible to overshoot the lift line-up and end up in the bush. By the time I got there, there was a small crowd, and the ski patrol with a stretcher attached to the snowmobile was already on the scene. There's a small downhill before you reach the trees, and they were crouched down, gingerly removing a ski. I decided not to gawk and went up the lift. When I came back down, the snow patrol were still in the midst of extricating the person from the tree. I went on the lift again and decided to go down another trail to an alternate chair lift.

So aside from the casualty, the day was very nice. My parents came back for me and we all headed to the casino (not too bad, considering it is in the middle of nowhere). My mother couldn't handle the smoke so we just contributed $10 to a slot machine and headed home.

My face is rosy from the windburn, and I love it.

"They will see us waving from such great heights, come down now, they'll say"

Dinner Theatre

My family and I went out for dinner tonight at our favourite local italian eatery. We had just sat down at a table by the door and were perusing through the menu when a man wearing a nice-looking suit walked in. Our server happened to be near the door and approached him. Suddenly, the man started swearing at our server and threw several wild punches at him, yelling that he was getting his "fuckin' coat".

Violent Man walked further into the restaurant, continued swearing, and started swinging at the next guy who approached him. Then Violent Man picked up a bar stool. Things could have gotten quite out of hand if one of the big guys from the kitchen hadn't stepped out, grabbed Violent Man and attempted to calm him down, causing the bar stool to fall to the floor. After a brief struggle (that I couldn't see very well), three guys grabbed Violent Man, hurtled him towards the door and threw him out.

Violent Man stood at the door and continued to yell at the men, who stayed by the door to keep him from re-entering the establishment. There was some spitting involved, and this went on for maybe five minutes. Then a huge policeman showed up out of nowhere, and the whole thing became a silent movie, as we watched the action through the front window. With lightning speed, the policeman got Violent Man face down on the snowy sidewalk with his knee in the middle of his back. The handcuffs went on, and he kept Violent Man on the ground for several minutes. More policepeople showed up, and they took him away to the cruiser. Later on, three other policepeople came into the restaurant, no doubt in order to gather witness statements from the kitchen guys. We went back to our business, noticing that the food was a little slow to arrive, but we didn't mind.

The speculation was that Violent Man was completely plastered (or mentally unstable) and had already been thrown out of the restaurant earlier in the evening. Hence the coat being left behind. My mother, who could always be counted on for being ridculous in these kinds of situations, had been holding on to my father's arm the entire time, even when the altercation had moved outside. She temporarily forgot that she was hungry.

At the end of our meal, we were surprised by a plate of chocolate eclairs that were on the house. Our server apologized for the unfortunate scene earlier, but we were more concerned about whether he had been hurt. Violent Man had punched him many times before moving to the bar stool. But thankfully our server was okay.

Although the entire event is kind of unnerving and not very pleasant, all of us (minus my mother) found it very entertaining. It seems wrong somehow to witness this kind of thing and then feel excited to tell the story later, like I had just seen a really great movie but in real life.

Look at what popular entertainment has done to me.

"This fire is out of control, I'm going to burn this city"

Due Process

Howdy. Long time no blog.

First off, I read this today and thought to myself, that's a cool idea. That is, if you're into hockey and everything.

So, things have been pretty busy, hence the bloglessness. But I did something last week that was just fascinating to me.

I participated in due process.

I have been a member of a credit union, along with the rest of my family, pretty much since birth. The sad thing is that I never really took an interest in it. Whenever something happened, like my dad wanted me to invest in shares or something, he would just give me a blank application, tell me to sign the appropriate places, and the rest would be taken care of. Basically, I have no idea what I have in my accounts.

The credit union (currently the third largest in Ontario) has decided to merge with another credit union (currently the largest in Ontario) to become one whopping huge credit union (largest in Ontario, third largest in Canada). But since it's a credit union, all of the members get a say as to whether this merger is going to happen or not. Unlike some other major financial institutions that shall remain nameless.

After work, I hurried home and went with my parents to the special members meeting where we would have a decent convention-style meal, listen to the chairman and others say good things about this merger, and then vote. Almost everything involved making a motion to do this or that, having someone second it, then voting by holding the little card in the air. Other than in Model UN, I've never taken part in anything like this (and even back then, it was extremely marginal participation).

So, all of this sounds boring, right? Sure, except that there was some tension when the one director who had resigned due to his opposition of this merger stood up near the end of the question period and started talking about all the negative things that the chairman "neglected" to mention, including the real reason why the director resigned. You should have seen the chairman's face while this guy was making his remarks. The problem was that we had voted at the beginning of the meeting to limit questions or comments to two minutes per person, and that the question period would not exceed one hour. Of course, both of these events were about to occur with this guy at the microphone. Half the people in the room (there were about 1200 people present from all over the province) wanted him to keep talking, the other half wanted him to shut up so we could vote. People were screaming across the huge convention hall, it was total chaos, and I was strangely captivated.

The chairman finally got the room under control, and we voted. There were three categories of voters, two of which were shareholders only, and the third being all general members. There had to be a two-thirds majority in each category for this resolution to pass. When the votes were tallied, both of the shareholders results were in the 87-88% range in favour of the merger. The general member result was 67.5% in favour. This was another first for me. My vote actually made a difference.

So that was the end of our meeting. The other credit union held their vote the following night and were also in favour, so on April 1st, the merger will be complete.

We had taken a chartered bus to the convention centre (provided by our local branch), and on our way back, I was sitting next to an elderly gentleman. We were all munching on cookies, and as we waited to exit the parking lot, he leaned over and asked if the vote had gone the way I wanted it. I hesitantly said yes, since I wasn't completely sure it would affect me at all, and I didn't really have too much to say about it. He mentiond something about the weather (it was pouring rain), to which I agreed. He went back to eating his cookie, and I felt that he was trying to get a conversation out of me, and I wasn't being very co-operative. So I jumped in and asked him a question. That was all I had to do. He ended up talking for the rest of the ride, first about how he wanted to buy some property back in the day, and the credit union gave him the loan on the spot, and how people had tried to buy it from him over the years but he held out and was going to pass it on to his family after he was gone. Then we somehow got into the topic of age, how his wife had died some years before, and how both his parents and his wife's parents lived to be in their 90's or 100's, and how it's because in Poland they have good water. Then it became an environmental talk, and if they ever produced a good hydrogen car he would be the first one to buy it. I said a word or two here and there, but I basically just listened to him talk because he seemed to enjoy it so much. When we reached our stop, I said goodbye and he smiled at me and waved. What a pleasant man, I thought to myself as I got off the bus. I really hope he gets to own that hydrogen car.

"Could have been your statue, could have been your friend, a whole long lifetime could have been the end"

English For The Non-English

Last night I went out to dinner with some friends from university. We get together regularly...well, by "regularly" I mean when the fancy-pants restaurants in the city offer fixed price menus so that normal joes can afford to eat like the other half. So that's about twice a year. But one of these days Kevin is going to move his business out of his living room and will be able to host a proper mah jong party, so then we'll probably see each other more often.

In any case, we were at Centro (which is a very nice restaurant, highly recommended by "some guy on the internet"), catching up and having a great meal. Time disappeared as quickly as our food and suddenly we had spent 3 hours there. Kevin and Sylvia had to leave to catch the bus to Vermont for the annual ski trip (dear God...I want to go skiing...). As we all entered the subway, Kevin's phone rang, and after he answered, his voice got louder, his grammar became non-existent, and it was as though he was singing a slow children's song. Sylvia smiled and informed the rest of us that it must be the Japanese exchange student on the phone, who had been invited to the ski trip but was waiting for someone to pick her up.

I know it's bad, but I have to admit that I am guilty of this kind of behaviour as well. Ron commented that it's no wonder new immigrants have such a hard time grasping the English language. Nobody ever speaks to them normally. I find that I just can't help speaking louder, slower, and using as many simple words strung together as possible to try to get the meaning across, complete with hand gestures if possible. I can understand the slower pace and the simple words, but why on earth do we feel compelled to speak louder? They're not deaf, they're just from another country, and it's not like we can force our message into their brain by shouting.

But I still laughed as we watched Kevin attempt to communicate with the Japanese girl. I'm afraid it's just hopeless, isn't it?

"Give me back my point of view 'cause I just can't think for you"

Winter Physics

Why is it that after it snows, the majority of the population loses all perception of straight lines? This phenomenon seems especially prevalent in parking lots. Cars are arranged in strange geometric patterns, like crop circles. And how did the standard parking space suddenly increase in width by two feet? So, for about four months in the year, the parking lot at work mysteriously decreases in capacity by something like 20-30 spaces, and people decide that they have no choice but to block the loading dock and potentially have their car taken out by a tractor trailer that's just trying to get off the property. Bizarre.

Maybe extreme whiteness affects the logical part of the brain...

While we're still on the topic of cars and straightness...does anyone out there who's right-handed find that they have no problem driving with only their left hand, but somehow can't keep the car straight with only their right? One of the girls at work was talking about it today. She finds it very easy to drive left-handed, but when she switches, her driving exhibts the characteristics of a crazy drunkard.

I think she's a weirdo. But perhaps I should test this out tomorrow before I render the final verdict.

I'm still pretty confident that she's a weirdo.

Finally, on a completely different note and in light of current and future adventures overseas, take this little quiz to make sure you don't offend anyone with your eating habits.

"Tell all your friends, make believe all 'round"

Across The Crowded Room

It's January, so you know what that means.

The gym is packed.

I have to admit that I haven't been to the gym in about a month and a half. But it's a new year and another new beginning, and I'm determined to return to the "3 times a week" routine.

Sunday morning hasn't been this busy in a long time. The majority of the machines were in use, and the step class was almost filled to capacity. But I still managed to bump into Olga A. Who, of course, looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her. Come to think of it, she looks the same as the first time I saw her too. I carry very specific memories of some of the people in my past. For Olga, I will forever remember her as the wizard in the Grade 5 musical. Somehow, I'm pretty sure that she would love it if I didn't.

Tonight's step class was similarly crammed. As the previous class was exiting the studio, I bet all my money that I would see someone I knew. And sure enough...how many of you remember Lauren D.? (I can hear copies of the Panteria whipping open already)

Looking at all these women running/stepping/cycling in a row, or moving in sync with the instructor, or making small, repetitive movement with disproportionately large machines, it made me think of the things that we value. Are all these people here to improve their health? Or are they attempting to mold themselves into what we have all been tricked into thinking is the acceptable norm? Or both? And how important is it to them, really?

I guess we'll find out in February.

"If you believe it's in my soul, I'd say all the words that I know"

Crappy New Year

Well...the dream of having a good year was somewhat short-lived...

Where do I start? Okay...last night our car was broken into. Maybe not so much broken into as it was opened due to my father forgetting to lock the car. Since we don't keep that much junk in any of our cars, they only took a change purse (a few bucks at most), a cheap flashlight, a granola bar, and...our garage door opener. Which they of course used to open our garage. Since we had two cars jammed into it and two cars on the driveway, they didn't end up taking anything. The whole thing looks random, but I learned today it's not actually a rare occurrence on my street. My dad was talking to the neighbours this afternoon and found out that almost everyone had experienced something similar at one point or another over the past few years. Someone had left their car unlocked on their driveway in broad daylight and some punk went in and rifled through their stuff. The old couple on the corner were robbed recently. The little old lady had stepped outside to rake leaves or something, and some guy just walked into the house and stole their antique watch collection, while the old man (who's ill) was lying in the bedroom. I mean, come on, the guy(s) that paid us a visit last night took the light bulb from our motion detector.

So, after looking over the car as quickly as possible, I headed to work. Where I was told that my boss had died yesterday. She had lost her battle against the tag-team cancer (breast, then lung). The only good things that can be said about this are:

a) her suffering is finally over, and
b) she died they way she wanted, peacefully at home in her favourite rocking chair, instead of hooked up to a bunch of machines in a hospital.

She would have been 42 in February.

Monica was the nicest and the best manager I've ever had. She had an amazing sense of humour, and she never failed to help me out whenever I had a question or problem. Her conviction in beating the illness was awe-inspiring.

Despite the heaviness of the day, it wasn't a complete bust. I got some work done, and I was actually okay for the most part until the grief counsellor showed up. We went in to see him as a group and spent an hour talking and sobbing. We all came out of there more depressed, and I had blown my nose so much it hurt.

Lesson of the Day: Grief counselling is not for me.

The funeral is on Thursday. I've never been to a funeral with a cremation before. I hope I'll be able to hold it together.

I know this has been a downer of a blog, but the pamphlet did say that writing down your feelings can be theraputic in these situations. So here it is. Thanks for reading.

"It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right, I hope you had the time of your life"

Glance Back, Look Forward

Happy 2005 to one and all.

As everyone counted down the last seconds of 2004 at our annual New Year's party, I made my biggest resolution: this is going to be the best year ever. I am going to make it happen, no matter what.

This morning I woke up and it was the first thought in my head. It's a new year, a new beginning, and I am excited. I know it's not going to be an easy thing to accomplish, but I already have a plan in mind and a few surprises hidden up my sleeve.

Stay tuned.

"So let go, jump in, oh well whatcha waiting for?"

Freezing Rain Warning Is In Effect

Looks like I chose the best day to start my vacation. I'll bet the girls at work are grumbling about it right now...

Apart from the general traffic carnage and the physical strain from digging myself out of the house, I love winter. If people hated winter as much as they say they do, then what the hell are they doing here? This is Canada. It's cold here. Get over it.

I think it's been 6 or 7 months since I've gone climbing. I miss it. I've had a couple of excuses (busy at work...all my climbing buddies are gone...etc.) but I have to admit they're not really good excuses. I'm going to try to get in as much climbing as possible in the next two weeks. If I'm going to be attempting ice climbing, then I'm going to need all the help I can get.

Do you like the smell of a camp fire? I love it. Don't know what it is exactly, but it's sort of soothing, very natural. Guess what I found? Candles that are campfire scented. Can you believe it? I bought them immediately and gave them to Emily for Christmas. Why? Because the last time we went to the One-of-a-Kind show, she was joking with one of the candle merchants about making a candle that smelled like wood smoke. And what do you know? Someone has already done it! But I hope it doesn't end up smelling like her house is on fire. That would be considerably less than soothing.

"The lamp is burning low upon my table top, the snow is softly falling"

30 Seconds

Do you find it difficult sitting through the 3+ hours of "It's A Wonderful Life"? I know it's a classic holiday movie, but I have never been able to watch the entire thing from start to finish. Good news! Now you can go here and watch the entire movie in 30 seconds...re-enacted by bunnies.