It is Hallowe'en. And I have had a very full day, involving very little hallowe'eny content. Oh, and I've had much more wine than I'm used to, so this may be entirely incoherent - if you've found it and are interested, read this entry now - if it's illegible, it'll be deleted once I come to my senses.
The day began with my packing and leaving the house. I realise now that I did not pack correctly, and have only one pair of pants with a matching shirt for really two days of work/auditing. Oh, well. Maybe things aren 't as dire as they seem, and I'll figure it out in the morning.
Then it was off to work, where Deena and I (and Winston and Jen) got the Pancake breakfast up and out. Things went well, despite the pan of bacon determined to spit scalding grease at my face.
Then later it was off to the airport - blah, blah, blah. The plane ride. finally found something I can do on a plane - I can KNIT! But then I spent the whole trip worried about whacking the guys next to middle (go go middle seat!) with my uber long knitting needles. And there was the most disturbing shrieking, screaming child on the plane. No - not just a crying kid. I was scared to look behind me, because I was concerned that I would see not a cherubic face streaked with tears, but some kind of green skinned demon. I've never heard screams like that.
I remember having all these cool thoughts today, thinking that I'd like to get them down here, but you know - these days, drinking half a bottle of wine for me is like shaking an etch-a-sketch. Maybe something will come back tomorrow. For now, I am in Winnipeg. Tomorrow I go to an egg factory. Right now i deal with a bit of a tipsy outlook.
It's all good. Angel is on tv - funny. Carry on.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
Ho Hum
It's Friday. And I have that Friday kind of aimless, focus-less, meandering kind of mindset. Do I have work to do? For a change - yes, yes I do. It's quite urgent, even. But eh. It will get done. Over and over, I've learned the lesson that I need a deadline and I need to be fairly close to that deadline to be effective and efficient.
Unfortunately, this is also affecting life outside work. I guess it's not just a Friday thing. I have laundry to do, and a house to clean because a friend is staying over Monday night - worse, I won't even be there because I'm flying to Winnipeg that day. So I feel like I need to clean the whole apartment because there's the chance that she could look anywhere if I'm not there - and that's not because I think she will, out of a sense of snoopiness or anything else, but because I envision all these weird scenarios where, because of some emergency or another, it becomes imperative to go into the very back reaches of my cluttered closet, or to reach through the dust-bunny population residing under my dresser to grasp at the elusive mysterious object that will somehow resolve the situation. Like the fire extinguisher rolled under there accidentally just before the cat catches fire. Or something.
In addition to my house chores (which are always being delayed and manipulated in any case) I also have to work on our United Way fundraising campaign. I (stupidly) had a "brilliant" idea of making personalized calendars to sell as part of our fundraising efforts. So now I have to make up two entirely different calendars this weekend using photoshop and word and excel alone, since publisher won't work for some reason. Whatever. The challenge is making it pretty. And another project also urgently requires attention - we're going to have little contests all week, involving puzzles and trivia, none of which have been prepared. And my partner in this endeavour is currently in Chicago until tomorrow, and then I'm in Winnipeg and then Saskatoon and when is any of this going to get done? We're going to go down in company history as the worst United Way campaign organizers ever. We'll burn down the tech centre during the pancake breakfast; we'll insult people's intelligence with the trivia; we'll make people sick eating oddly flavoured pickles.
Okay. Coming down. Everything will be fine. Especially if I start getting some work done now.
Unfortunately, this is also affecting life outside work. I guess it's not just a Friday thing. I have laundry to do, and a house to clean because a friend is staying over Monday night - worse, I won't even be there because I'm flying to Winnipeg that day. So I feel like I need to clean the whole apartment because there's the chance that she could look anywhere if I'm not there - and that's not because I think she will, out of a sense of snoopiness or anything else, but because I envision all these weird scenarios where, because of some emergency or another, it becomes imperative to go into the very back reaches of my cluttered closet, or to reach through the dust-bunny population residing under my dresser to grasp at the elusive mysterious object that will somehow resolve the situation. Like the fire extinguisher rolled under there accidentally just before the cat catches fire. Or something.
In addition to my house chores (which are always being delayed and manipulated in any case) I also have to work on our United Way fundraising campaign. I (stupidly) had a "brilliant" idea of making personalized calendars to sell as part of our fundraising efforts. So now I have to make up two entirely different calendars this weekend using photoshop and word and excel alone, since publisher won't work for some reason. Whatever. The challenge is making it pretty. And another project also urgently requires attention - we're going to have little contests all week, involving puzzles and trivia, none of which have been prepared. And my partner in this endeavour is currently in Chicago until tomorrow, and then I'm in Winnipeg and then Saskatoon and when is any of this going to get done? We're going to go down in company history as the worst United Way campaign organizers ever. We'll burn down the tech centre during the pancake breakfast; we'll insult people's intelligence with the trivia; we'll make people sick eating oddly flavoured pickles.
Okay. Coming down. Everything will be fine. Especially if I start getting some work done now.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Falling Thoughts
The heat isn't turned on yet at work. When the guys in the office start wearing sweaters and cradling their hot mugs between chilled fingers, you know that things are becoming unacceptable. I honestly just huffed into the air to see if I could see my breath. I couldn't, but I did manage to dislodge the icicle from the tip of my nose, so it's all good.
Despite this, I'm still enjoying the turning of my part of the world into autumn. The air smells of leaves and fall, even in the city. I can't help but smile when I walk out to my car and have to move through a drift of leaves, crunching under my heels. The wind feels like life. I find I dress very differently in the fall. I love it so much, I want people to share in the joy. I want people to look at me and be reminded that it's fall. If I could, I would twine leaves through my hair and carry a hollowed out pumpkin as a rucksack. That would make me a crazy person right now, so I'll save it for when I'm old and eccentric.
The return of CBC has also prompted many smiles. I feel like my friends were gone away somewhere, and have now come home. To heck with hockey commentating, I've missed Andy Barrie in the mornings, Matt Galloway in the afternoons, and Stuart McLean Sunday lunchtimes. I laughed out loud on the Go train yesterday when the Vinyl Cafe closed out with 'Back in Baby's Arms' by Patsy Cline, dedicated to the labour minister.
I've learned not to trust certain people when they say something is 'just up the street'. Half an hour after leaving the Eaton centre, we walked into downtown Barrie for lunch. Well, maybe it wasn't quite that far. But lunch tasted great, even interrupted as it was by the man coming in from the street with half eaten street meat, aggressively demanding change, and then roaring unintelligibly at all and sundry when asked to leave. Ah, Toronto.
Despite this, I'm still enjoying the turning of my part of the world into autumn. The air smells of leaves and fall, even in the city. I can't help but smile when I walk out to my car and have to move through a drift of leaves, crunching under my heels. The wind feels like life. I find I dress very differently in the fall. I love it so much, I want people to share in the joy. I want people to look at me and be reminded that it's fall. If I could, I would twine leaves through my hair and carry a hollowed out pumpkin as a rucksack. That would make me a crazy person right now, so I'll save it for when I'm old and eccentric.
The return of CBC has also prompted many smiles. I feel like my friends were gone away somewhere, and have now come home. To heck with hockey commentating, I've missed Andy Barrie in the mornings, Matt Galloway in the afternoons, and Stuart McLean Sunday lunchtimes. I laughed out loud on the Go train yesterday when the Vinyl Cafe closed out with 'Back in Baby's Arms' by Patsy Cline, dedicated to the labour minister.
I've learned not to trust certain people when they say something is 'just up the street'. Half an hour after leaving the Eaton centre, we walked into downtown Barrie for lunch. Well, maybe it wasn't quite that far. But lunch tasted great, even interrupted as it was by the man coming in from the street with half eaten street meat, aggressively demanding change, and then roaring unintelligibly at all and sundry when asked to leave. Ah, Toronto.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
It's the eyes...
Oh, man. Crying. Tryng to be really quiet about it, because I am not alone here in my shared office.
This is the problem with hanging out on the internet at work. Extremely funny things to read, no way to burst out laughing without giving it all away. I loved Pamie's doll entry today. I can sympathise with doll-fear. I remember when Cabbage Patch Kids were the craze, when I was 10 or so. And then, shortly after the height of the craze, hearing the stories about them. The creepy stories. Why did people make these up? I have no clue.
I remember there was one story about how there was an old couple who couldn't have children. So, they 'adopted' a Cabbage Patch doll, and treated it like their own baby, complete with its own room, cradle and clothing. One night, the woman went into the room to find the doll floating a couple of feet above the cradle.
Another was the story that if you cracked open a Cabbage Patch doll's head, you would find a note inside saying "Mommy, why did you kill me?" And of course, everyone swore that their dolls moved about on their own, making their way from the dresser to the bed, hiding under the dust ruffle with their little glowing eyes and odd little sewn fingers clutching a scalpel, waiting for unsuspecting ankles.
Or something like that.
It all ended up leaving me with the determination to never be alone at night with my little 'Bernice Grace'. It was alright for her to be up on the highest shelf, across the room from the bed, only if she was turned away, with her face pressed against the wall, and pinned in there by my Victorian lady with the enormous skirts on one side, and by Oscar the grouch on the other (also facing the wall because of his bulbous eyes and vacant grin).
As soon as childhood things started to leave my room, Bernice was the first thing in a box. Somewhere in my parents house is a torn, black garbage bag with doll and animal limbs sticking out the holes, writhing in the middle of the night, slithering and rattling the bag, waiting for an unwitting arm to grope about in the darkness for a jar of beets.
This is the problem with hanging out on the internet at work. Extremely funny things to read, no way to burst out laughing without giving it all away. I loved Pamie's doll entry today. I can sympathise with doll-fear. I remember when Cabbage Patch Kids were the craze, when I was 10 or so. And then, shortly after the height of the craze, hearing the stories about them. The creepy stories. Why did people make these up? I have no clue.
I remember there was one story about how there was an old couple who couldn't have children. So, they 'adopted' a Cabbage Patch doll, and treated it like their own baby, complete with its own room, cradle and clothing. One night, the woman went into the room to find the doll floating a couple of feet above the cradle.
Another was the story that if you cracked open a Cabbage Patch doll's head, you would find a note inside saying "Mommy, why did you kill me?" And of course, everyone swore that their dolls moved about on their own, making their way from the dresser to the bed, hiding under the dust ruffle with their little glowing eyes and odd little sewn fingers clutching a scalpel, waiting for unsuspecting ankles.
Or something like that.
It all ended up leaving me with the determination to never be alone at night with my little 'Bernice Grace'. It was alright for her to be up on the highest shelf, across the room from the bed, only if she was turned away, with her face pressed against the wall, and pinned in there by my Victorian lady with the enormous skirts on one side, and by Oscar the grouch on the other (also facing the wall because of his bulbous eyes and vacant grin).
As soon as childhood things started to leave my room, Bernice was the first thing in a box. Somewhere in my parents house is a torn, black garbage bag with doll and animal limbs sticking out the holes, writhing in the middle of the night, slithering and rattling the bag, waiting for an unwitting arm to grope about in the darkness for a jar of beets.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
You mean this WAS okay before?
This caught my eye, and horrified me a little. So many reasons to avoid the news.
Can I Be Good Cop? And The Dream
I was almost excited about going to inspect a plant where I knew I would find issues. I thought I'd get to be all bad-ass, hard-as-nails auditor lady.
But that's just not me. Writing this up is almost painful - I want to be understanding and friendly and helpful, but when I add up the numbers, it just doesn't work that way. I almost wish the people there had been rude to me - then I could tell them off with impunity. But, no - I have to accept that what I have to say will not be welcomed by anyone, really. I like to know that I can help a bit - but not a whole lot in this case.
Anyway, work is going painfully because of this, and the other less-than-fun items on my to-do list that I pushed to the end of the week and now have to tackle. I've ruined my own Thursday.
I'll just think of my pumpkin basket and pretty new coffee mug (that will be filled with hot chocolate) waiting for me at home. This is, of course, after all the annoying things that have to be done - particularly laundry. Man, I hate laundry.
I have a laundry dream. In my apartment, there is a chute where I drop down my clothes and sheets and towels that need to be cleaned. If there are stains or tears, I can pin on a little note asking for it to be taken care of. The next day, my clothes come back - freshly cleaned, ironed, and folded and sitting in a lovely little wicker basket left on my doorstep. Maybe a daisy laid on the top of the pile.
Dare to dream.
But that's just not me. Writing this up is almost painful - I want to be understanding and friendly and helpful, but when I add up the numbers, it just doesn't work that way. I almost wish the people there had been rude to me - then I could tell them off with impunity. But, no - I have to accept that what I have to say will not be welcomed by anyone, really. I like to know that I can help a bit - but not a whole lot in this case.
Anyway, work is going painfully because of this, and the other less-than-fun items on my to-do list that I pushed to the end of the week and now have to tackle. I've ruined my own Thursday.
I'll just think of my pumpkin basket and pretty new coffee mug (that will be filled with hot chocolate) waiting for me at home. This is, of course, after all the annoying things that have to be done - particularly laundry. Man, I hate laundry.
I have a laundry dream. In my apartment, there is a chute where I drop down my clothes and sheets and towels that need to be cleaned. If there are stains or tears, I can pin on a little note asking for it to be taken care of. The next day, my clothes come back - freshly cleaned, ironed, and folded and sitting in a lovely little wicker basket left on my doorstep. Maybe a daisy laid on the top of the pile.
Dare to dream.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Revenge Upon Smug Girl
Watching the news, I was just chuckling to myself, "Man, I'd hate to be in Manitoba right now. Heh. Poor saps." This after seeing a piece on the up-to-30cm of snow expected by tonight.
Then I remembered I'm going there in a couple of weeks.
Then I remembered I'm going there in a couple of weeks.
Well, call me a pumpkin and carve out my head
Okay, so I've started blogs 5 or 6 times already and none of them stuck. So here I am started one one more time. We'll see how long this lasts.
So I'm terribly happy right now, because I went to Pier 1 tonight and good fortune abounded. First off, I got a $100 gift card as a going-away gift from Bick's. I'd already spent about $40 off it, so the remainder was burning a hole in my pocket. The store caught my attention because its front was plastered with big SALE signs. I parked and walked toward the store, only to see the small print telling me that everything in the store was half off. Oh, good times. It also made me happy that I almost exactly used up the entire card - I guess not all my math skills are dead.
I'm so happy it's fall. All day, I felt like going outside and playing. Even though today wasn't particularly fall-like. Stupid hot smog day. But all I want to do is drive around and find pumpkin patches and applie orchards to play in. I love fall SO much. Half the goodies I got today are fall-themed.
Now off to reheat dinner - I live the good life, I tell ya.
So I'm terribly happy right now, because I went to Pier 1 tonight and good fortune abounded. First off, I got a $100 gift card as a going-away gift from Bick's. I'd already spent about $40 off it, so the remainder was burning a hole in my pocket. The store caught my attention because its front was plastered with big SALE signs. I parked and walked toward the store, only to see the small print telling me that everything in the store was half off. Oh, good times. It also made me happy that I almost exactly used up the entire card - I guess not all my math skills are dead.
I'm so happy it's fall. All day, I felt like going outside and playing. Even though today wasn't particularly fall-like. Stupid hot smog day. But all I want to do is drive around and find pumpkin patches and applie orchards to play in. I love fall SO much. Half the goodies I got today are fall-themed.
Now off to reheat dinner - I live the good life, I tell ya.
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