Well there is little to report I'm afraid. I've wandered into a what appears to be a rare springtime rut and have no new shenanigans or goings-on to report. Oh sure I've been fighting the urge to go out and lay down a wad of cash on a new summer wardrobe, and yes I am in the middle of a tire fiasco, a topic which could have been blog-worthy, but which just didn't inspire me to write.
Last night I spent about 30 minutes laying awake trying to remember what Jimmy Fallon's first name was. I figured there was already one Jimmy (Kimmel) in the late night circuit so there wasn't room for two. Eventually I had to google it. It turns out that Jimmy K does not have the corner market on that late night handle.
I have also joined a learn to run 5k class. Last week we learned to walk 2k up and down a hill. I'm not sure what happens this week but I'm sure it will be good.
Just a few moments ago I tried to log into this blog with the wrong username and became overly disgruntled, firing off a scathing criticism under the feedback button about googles "new format" in which I could not find the "write new blog" button. It wasn't until after I hit the send button that I saw the comment that said "if you're having trouble seeing your blog, you may want to ensure that you have logged in under the correct username." Oh dear. So to the good people at google, I take it all back. Clearly the problem was user error.
The peanut chicken turned out beautifully. It was the best peanut chicken I've ever made. I am equally grateful that I put the recipe on here because I can't remember what the hell I did.
Heres my recipe for spicy hummus (because I'm running out of useless mindless crap to share with you):
1 can of chick peas (also apparently called garbanzo beans)
1/4 cup tahini (also called sesame butter according to the haughty clerk at the Bulk Barn, or "I've never heard of that" by the confused high school student at Sobey's)
2-3 tbsp lemon juice
2-3 cloves garlic
handful of jalapeño peppers depending how spicy you like it
2-3 tbsp of hot sauce (again, depending how hot you like it)
Throw everything in the Vitamix and blend until smooth. If you don't have a Vitamix, a food processor will work as will and blender.
Serve with veggies, or sweet potato chips or really whatever. I like it so much I'd eat it by the spoonful.
Cheers,
Tuesday 14 May 2013
Tuesday 30 April 2013
THE GREATEST TAI PEANUT SAUCE I EVER MADE
Actually the only thai peanut sauce I have ever made, period, but my god was it good. You know how when you make cookies the best part is licking out the bowl? Well tonight I licked out the pan that I cooked the shrimp and sauce in. It was so good that I'm going to attempt to share it with you all.
Now notice that I say attempt to share, and that is because I am not really one for following a recipe or doing measurements of any kind. I just kind of wing it and go by taste, i.e. does it need more sweet or tang... So the following are the list of ingredients that went into the sauce:
Peanut butter
Tahini
Lime juice
Chicken broth
Agave
Ginger
Garlic
Chilli Flakes
Pepper
Now the rough estimate of measurements/instructions are as follows:
Mix 2-3tbsp of peanut butter with 1tbsp of tahini and 2tbsp of lime juice. This turns into a weird thick paste-like consistency and makes you think "oh good god, what have I done." Meanwhile, microwave 1 cup of chicken broth until it boils over and causes a huge mess in the microwave. After you clean up the mess and the chicken broth is cooled down to a temperature you can handle pour about 1/4 of it into the peanut/tahini lime paste and whisk well. Add one clove of minced garlic, one tsp of grated ginger, 2 tsp of agave and one tsp of chilli flakes. Whisk some more until the peanut/tahini paste is totally dissolved in the chicken broth. Now this is the important part. Taste the sauce and see what you think. I found that it needed more peanut butter at this point to counter act the chicken and tahini flavours. Then I found that it was a bit too sweet so I threw some more lime juice in.
Now for the cooking part. This got a little hairy and I'm thinking that next time I do it, I'll do it differently. I decided to cook the shrimp in the peanut sauce (raw shrimp). It turns out that when this concoction gets heated the chicken stock just disappears altogether and the peanut/tahini paste makes a reappearance. Thinking quickly (or rather panicking a bit, it was burning) I tossed some more chicken broth from the remaining 3/4 of a cup into the pan and stirred like mad until the paste was back to a sauce consistency. The next large problem I discovered was that it was very hard to tell what colour the shrimp was once it was covered in peanut sauce making it difficult to tell when the shrimp was cooked through. So I left it on there a bit longer until the paste reared its ugly head and I had to throw more chicken broth in. In the end I took a guess at how long I thought it should take to ensure the shrimp was not poisonous. I put the whole mixture overtop of some rice and voila, dinner was served, and, as I've previously mentioned, it was fantastic. I was worried that, with the excess amount of chicken broth I'd added, that I'd have lost some of the peanut-ty flavour, but it turns out the broth just evaporates right off and eaves the flavour more robust then ever before.
Tomorrow I'm going to try my hand at chicken in peanut sauce over rice!
Cheers,
Now notice that I say attempt to share, and that is because I am not really one for following a recipe or doing measurements of any kind. I just kind of wing it and go by taste, i.e. does it need more sweet or tang... So the following are the list of ingredients that went into the sauce:
Peanut butter
Tahini
Lime juice
Chicken broth
Agave
Ginger
Garlic
Chilli Flakes
Pepper
Now the rough estimate of measurements/instructions are as follows:
Mix 2-3tbsp of peanut butter with 1tbsp of tahini and 2tbsp of lime juice. This turns into a weird thick paste-like consistency and makes you think "oh good god, what have I done." Meanwhile, microwave 1 cup of chicken broth until it boils over and causes a huge mess in the microwave. After you clean up the mess and the chicken broth is cooled down to a temperature you can handle pour about 1/4 of it into the peanut/tahini lime paste and whisk well. Add one clove of minced garlic, one tsp of grated ginger, 2 tsp of agave and one tsp of chilli flakes. Whisk some more until the peanut/tahini paste is totally dissolved in the chicken broth. Now this is the important part. Taste the sauce and see what you think. I found that it needed more peanut butter at this point to counter act the chicken and tahini flavours. Then I found that it was a bit too sweet so I threw some more lime juice in.
Now for the cooking part. This got a little hairy and I'm thinking that next time I do it, I'll do it differently. I decided to cook the shrimp in the peanut sauce (raw shrimp). It turns out that when this concoction gets heated the chicken stock just disappears altogether and the peanut/tahini paste makes a reappearance. Thinking quickly (or rather panicking a bit, it was burning) I tossed some more chicken broth from the remaining 3/4 of a cup into the pan and stirred like mad until the paste was back to a sauce consistency. The next large problem I discovered was that it was very hard to tell what colour the shrimp was once it was covered in peanut sauce making it difficult to tell when the shrimp was cooked through. So I left it on there a bit longer until the paste reared its ugly head and I had to throw more chicken broth in. In the end I took a guess at how long I thought it should take to ensure the shrimp was not poisonous. I put the whole mixture overtop of some rice and voila, dinner was served, and, as I've previously mentioned, it was fantastic. I was worried that, with the excess amount of chicken broth I'd added, that I'd have lost some of the peanut-ty flavour, but it turns out the broth just evaporates right off and eaves the flavour more robust then ever before.
Tomorrow I'm going to try my hand at chicken in peanut sauce over rice!
Cheers,
Sunday 28 April 2013
THERE MUST BE SOME KIND OF MISTAKE, THIS CAN'T ALL BE MY JUNK??
Well it is spring, and inevitably ones mind turns to new beginnings and fresh starts. Some come in the form of renewed diet pledges or goals of long lustrous hair. Others come in the form of house work and gardening. Or in some cases, things turn to both. In any case, there is a sense of renewal in the air and a need for change, big and small.
In addition to this spring cleanse, I am in the unique position of a potential up and coming move which means I am putting forth serious effort into re-arranging things to give the illusion of a house well organized and with loads of space. In deed this is an illusion as I've just loaded 6 boxes full of crap, four full bags of garbage which went to the dump and two boxes for the salvation army/food bank. And this is only for the 3 rooms that I've partially started to tackle, one of which being the kitchen.
How on God's green earth does one person accumulate so much crap?? I am one person and a cat (well I have a cat, I am not some weird cat person fusion) and I have only lived in this house for five and half years. I can not account for this incessant collecting of stuff. It's like I'm some kind of hoarder only I've gotten very good at hiding what I've hoarded. Take the fridge for instance. Yesterday I spent two hours gutting and cleaning it, right down to the very last nook and cranny. Dismantling it and building it back up to what it should be. Wading into that fridge, was like wading into a foreign land full of hidden jars and preserve that time had forgotten. Some of which I believe were beginning to breed and form new life altogether. Perhaps I should have called in a scientist, but then they might have wanted to cordon off the whole scene for the safety of society. I managed to find four jars of dill pickles, all in various states of fullness. There were two half full bottles of ketchup that had turned a shade of brown that I do not believe is meant for consumption of any kind, and a plethora of jams and jelly's which made appear as though I'm an active member of the jam and jelly monthly club. The strangest part about the whole scene was how all this had been hiding in my fridge all this time. Like these jars managed to find secret hidden caves and build forts out of the hot sauce and milk carton, in which to hide. How could I possibly have let this colony live for so long?? Nevertheless, they've all been evicted now and I have reclaimed ownership of the fridge and the rest of the kitchen, for the most part. The pots and pans are still putting up a resistance, but I will break down those walls also.
Next weekend I'll tackle the great and powerful laundry room, aka the room where I put things I have no idea where else to put. Is it possible to rent HAZMAT suits for the weekend??
Cheers,
In addition to this spring cleanse, I am in the unique position of a potential up and coming move which means I am putting forth serious effort into re-arranging things to give the illusion of a house well organized and with loads of space. In deed this is an illusion as I've just loaded 6 boxes full of crap, four full bags of garbage which went to the dump and two boxes for the salvation army/food bank. And this is only for the 3 rooms that I've partially started to tackle, one of which being the kitchen.
How on God's green earth does one person accumulate so much crap?? I am one person and a cat (well I have a cat, I am not some weird cat person fusion) and I have only lived in this house for five and half years. I can not account for this incessant collecting of stuff. It's like I'm some kind of hoarder only I've gotten very good at hiding what I've hoarded. Take the fridge for instance. Yesterday I spent two hours gutting and cleaning it, right down to the very last nook and cranny. Dismantling it and building it back up to what it should be. Wading into that fridge, was like wading into a foreign land full of hidden jars and preserve that time had forgotten. Some of which I believe were beginning to breed and form new life altogether. Perhaps I should have called in a scientist, but then they might have wanted to cordon off the whole scene for the safety of society. I managed to find four jars of dill pickles, all in various states of fullness. There were two half full bottles of ketchup that had turned a shade of brown that I do not believe is meant for consumption of any kind, and a plethora of jams and jelly's which made appear as though I'm an active member of the jam and jelly monthly club. The strangest part about the whole scene was how all this had been hiding in my fridge all this time. Like these jars managed to find secret hidden caves and build forts out of the hot sauce and milk carton, in which to hide. How could I possibly have let this colony live for so long?? Nevertheless, they've all been evicted now and I have reclaimed ownership of the fridge and the rest of the kitchen, for the most part. The pots and pans are still putting up a resistance, but I will break down those walls also.
Next weekend I'll tackle the great and powerful laundry room, aka the room where I put things I have no idea where else to put. Is it possible to rent HAZMAT suits for the weekend??
Cheers,
Saturday 27 April 2013
WARNING: HAIR RAISING EXPERIENCE AHEAD
I've made a decision. It's a decision I've made several times over the course of the last several years, and while it may seem trivial to some, to me it is the pinnacle of patience and success. I have decided to grow my hair. Yes, that's it people. No Mount Everest-like conquests for me, just a good old fashioned waiting game and increased consumption of protein in a misguided attempt to aid the growing process.
Now here's the situation as it stands. For most of my life, my hair was kept short, and I mean very very short, because of unruly while curls that no one could maintain and always seemed to turn into a mullet at the first attempt to grow it out. So I cut it it short. Way too short. For many many years and then, when I was in my late teens I decided to grow it long. There was a lot of pain-staking styling mishaps over the years, but eventually I found a rhythm. And then I lost my patience. 5 years of steady growth had got me just below shoulder length. At that point I decided to cut it, not as short as it had been, but shorter nonetheless. And I kept it short for quite some time, in a short fun bob. Now all that has come to a head after years of straightening with flat irons, blow dryers, highlights and die jobs has left my once curly hair, in a straight and scraggly mess. So I decided to cut the blow drying straight, only thing is, when your hair is short and bob-like, it's very difficult to pull it back into a pony tail and get he scraggly mess under control. This is what prompted the decision. Originally, I thought I'd just grow it out enough to be able to put it up so I could stop all the damaging blow drying, but then I decided that I would grow it long. Longer then ever before. This is going to take some considerable time, since right now it is just below ear length. I have sent word to my closest friend, so that when I start to freak out about how slow its going and about how out of control things are getting, she will remind me of my mission and has been instructed to use whatever means necessary to stop me from making a rash hair cut decision. With any luck, by next summer I'll be shoulder length and in another 2 years I'll be close to my goal.
Cheers,
Now here's the situation as it stands. For most of my life, my hair was kept short, and I mean very very short, because of unruly while curls that no one could maintain and always seemed to turn into a mullet at the first attempt to grow it out. So I cut it it short. Way too short. For many many years and then, when I was in my late teens I decided to grow it long. There was a lot of pain-staking styling mishaps over the years, but eventually I found a rhythm. And then I lost my patience. 5 years of steady growth had got me just below shoulder length. At that point I decided to cut it, not as short as it had been, but shorter nonetheless. And I kept it short for quite some time, in a short fun bob. Now all that has come to a head after years of straightening with flat irons, blow dryers, highlights and die jobs has left my once curly hair, in a straight and scraggly mess. So I decided to cut the blow drying straight, only thing is, when your hair is short and bob-like, it's very difficult to pull it back into a pony tail and get he scraggly mess under control. This is what prompted the decision. Originally, I thought I'd just grow it out enough to be able to put it up so I could stop all the damaging blow drying, but then I decided that I would grow it long. Longer then ever before. This is going to take some considerable time, since right now it is just below ear length. I have sent word to my closest friend, so that when I start to freak out about how slow its going and about how out of control things are getting, she will remind me of my mission and has been instructed to use whatever means necessary to stop me from making a rash hair cut decision. With any luck, by next summer I'll be shoulder length and in another 2 years I'll be close to my goal.
Cheers,
Thursday 25 April 2013
THERE WAS A SMALL SPEED BUMP WHEN I ATE THE WHOLE BAG OF SMART POP
I have a confession. My battle of the bulge has been a loosing battle as of late. Thing were going along well up until about February, when, I think, the winter blah's got the best of me and let the food monster in me get out. Things came to a head when I ventured on the scale for the first time a week ago and found that I gained back significantly more then I realized. I had gained back weight that I had already worked hard to get off and now I have to do it again. So I'm back on the Weight Watchers plan. Sometimes we think we're "not really eating that bad" but when you do something like Weight Watchers, it makes you really accountable for what you're putting in your mouth. Suddenly you realize how far off "not bad" you actually were. They say that keeping a food journal is a very good idea for helping with weight loss and I guess I have to agree. I'm on day two of WW and I've gone over my allotted points value both days, only by a little bit, but the fact of the matter is, I have already cut a few things out that I was having pre WW when I thought I was doing alright. This is going to be tough, but tough love is what we need sometime.
Tomorrow marks the kick off to the weekend, the weekend being a time that I have traditionally struggled with to keep myself on track and not eating like everyday is a carnival. There's just no structure to the weekend, it's a free-for-all and everything tastes so much better on the weekend! Not to mention the wine. I mean, I could skip a whole meal just to be able to have some extra wine on a Friday night! Also, I'm thinking, just to make things accurate, I'm going to have to start drinking right out of a measuring cup. Maybe I'll invent my own WW wine glass, it's just a measuring cup with a stem on it. I feel like the people of WW could really be cashing in on this.
So anticipation of a measuring cup full of wine tomorrow night, cheers!
Tomorrow marks the kick off to the weekend, the weekend being a time that I have traditionally struggled with to keep myself on track and not eating like everyday is a carnival. There's just no structure to the weekend, it's a free-for-all and everything tastes so much better on the weekend! Not to mention the wine. I mean, I could skip a whole meal just to be able to have some extra wine on a Friday night! Also, I'm thinking, just to make things accurate, I'm going to have to start drinking right out of a measuring cup. Maybe I'll invent my own WW wine glass, it's just a measuring cup with a stem on it. I feel like the people of WW could really be cashing in on this.
So anticipation of a measuring cup full of wine tomorrow night, cheers!
Saturday 20 April 2013
"IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL PONY, I MEAN, IT LOOKED JUST LIKE A LITTLE HORSE"
Well fellow inhabitants of planet earth, wherever you may be, it's been a rough week for many of us. The scenes that have unfolded in Boston since Monday's marathon, the terrible explosion in Texas, and now we are hearing of a devastating earthquake in China. These are troubling times, and it would be easy to hang our heads, throw our hands in the air and say "what's the point?" The point is, in spite of what might feel like overwhelming odds, we must not give up hope and most of all, we should not turn on our fellow man. It is times like these where we must learn to lean on each other more then ever. People are tribal by nature, we need the pack and we are the only ones who can heal each other. Senseless acts of violence should not been given precedence over the human triumph to push through and find the positive light. I fear, over the coming weeks, we will be barraged with endless images, stories and analysis of the Boston bombers in the media. It is more important to remember the survivors and the people who ran into the danger to help others in need. The reality is there were two bombers, but there were hundreds of people, civilians and first responders, who ran to the aid of others. That's the true story here. Around the world, terrible things happen every day, but there are more good people who come to help then there are those who would do harm. It is time our media and our governments focussed on that and put their energy into shining light on those stories and those people. If for every two people who are out to do harm, there are 100 people ready to do good, then maybe things aren't as hopeless as we are sometimes led to believe. Lets all try to keep that in mind and maybe we can be the change we want to see in the world. I think someone much more wise then I said that...
I really didn't intend to start off like that, but I think it was worth saying. Now in other, more ridiculous news, I have spent the last few hours battling what will hopefully be the last blast of winter (fyi, two days ago it was 22 degrees c and we had a tornado, today it's a blizzard) in order that I should go maple syrup shopping. I am blessed to live in a small region of the world where the sugar maple gives us glorious sap which can be boiled down into a delicious golden nectar of the gods. Each year small communities around the area I live in hold maple syrup festivals. An entire festival dedicated to the stuff, complete with pancake breakfasts and every kind of derivative of maple syrup you can think of. Today's expedition saw the purchase of two medium syrups (medium refers to the colour) one jar of maple sugar and, of course, the delicious maple candies, of which I have now had three and am vibrating from the maple sugar content. I am also quite sure it is the only thing that kept me warm whilst braving the 80km/h wind gusts which make this 0 degree day feel more like -10 (again this is in c). But it is a tradition and so, wind, rain, shine or blizzard, we will go to the maple syrup festivals to get our yearly dose of sugary goodness. Here's to hoping next spring will actually be, well, springlike...
Cheers with a big glass of syrup!
I really didn't intend to start off like that, but I think it was worth saying. Now in other, more ridiculous news, I have spent the last few hours battling what will hopefully be the last blast of winter (fyi, two days ago it was 22 degrees c and we had a tornado, today it's a blizzard) in order that I should go maple syrup shopping. I am blessed to live in a small region of the world where the sugar maple gives us glorious sap which can be boiled down into a delicious golden nectar of the gods. Each year small communities around the area I live in hold maple syrup festivals. An entire festival dedicated to the stuff, complete with pancake breakfasts and every kind of derivative of maple syrup you can think of. Today's expedition saw the purchase of two medium syrups (medium refers to the colour) one jar of maple sugar and, of course, the delicious maple candies, of which I have now had three and am vibrating from the maple sugar content. I am also quite sure it is the only thing that kept me warm whilst braving the 80km/h wind gusts which make this 0 degree day feel more like -10 (again this is in c). But it is a tradition and so, wind, rain, shine or blizzard, we will go to the maple syrup festivals to get our yearly dose of sugary goodness. Here's to hoping next spring will actually be, well, springlike...
Cheers with a big glass of syrup!
Wednesday 17 April 2013
I SAID A WAP BAPA LULA A WAP BAM BOOM
Ahoy hoy my good and juste reader!
I am high on exercise and one too many Snackaroons. Snackaroons you ask? Well let me tell you; they are my new favourite raw, gluten free, organic and vegan snack. To be fair, I'm not sure I had a favourite raw, gluten free, organic and vegan snack before, so becoming the was really just a matter of showing up for the job, sort of like some of my co-workers...
Snackaroons, as you my be able to tell from the name, are a branch of the macaroon family. Little did I know the macaroon family had a branch, but far be it for me to judge. I found them at my local Bulk Barn retailer, which I have also recently become a regular at. The thing I like best about the
Snackaroons is that there is not one ingredient on the list of 5 ingredients, that I don't recognize. Actually not only are they all ingredients I know, they are all ingredients that I have in my pantry. In theory, with a little experimentation, I could make them myself. But why go to all that bother when the good people of the Laughing Giraffe company have already gone to the trouble to make them for me. There are 4 kinds Snackaroon, Vanilla Almond, Banana Coconut, Pineapple Macadamia & Goji Cacao Maco. My Snackaroon of choice is the vanilla almond. I like the so much in fact, that last week I devoured an entire bag like they were candies. I don't recommend doing that. Tonight I've had three, one in the truck on the way home from the Bulk Barn (road Snackaroon) and then two when I got home, only because the were stuck together and it didn't seem right to separate them when they clearly wanted to be together... Now I'm debating a 4th, but will rain myself in.
I'm realizing that a better title would have been "SHE FEEDS ME LOVE AND TENDERNESS AND MACAROONS." Of course this is only true if my readers are familiar with the lyrical genius of a scrappy (I'm taking liberties here) Canadian band called The Stampeders.
The point is, nothing beats a Snackaroon after a hard spin class (the first one I've been to in nearly 2.5 months). Actually a glass of wine would be better, but seems somewhat counter productive. That is all for now.
Cheers,
I am high on exercise and one too many Snackaroons. Snackaroons you ask? Well let me tell you; they are my new favourite raw, gluten free, organic and vegan snack. To be fair, I'm not sure I had a favourite raw, gluten free, organic and vegan snack before, so becoming the was really just a matter of showing up for the job, sort of like some of my co-workers...
Snackaroons, as you my be able to tell from the name, are a branch of the macaroon family. Little did I know the macaroon family had a branch, but far be it for me to judge. I found them at my local Bulk Barn retailer, which I have also recently become a regular at. The thing I like best about the
Snackaroons is that there is not one ingredient on the list of 5 ingredients, that I don't recognize. Actually not only are they all ingredients I know, they are all ingredients that I have in my pantry. In theory, with a little experimentation, I could make them myself. But why go to all that bother when the good people of the Laughing Giraffe company have already gone to the trouble to make them for me. There are 4 kinds Snackaroon, Vanilla Almond, Banana Coconut, Pineapple Macadamia & Goji Cacao Maco. My Snackaroon of choice is the vanilla almond. I like the so much in fact, that last week I devoured an entire bag like they were candies. I don't recommend doing that. Tonight I've had three, one in the truck on the way home from the Bulk Barn (road Snackaroon) and then two when I got home, only because the were stuck together and it didn't seem right to separate them when they clearly wanted to be together... Now I'm debating a 4th, but will rain myself in.
I'm realizing that a better title would have been "SHE FEEDS ME LOVE AND TENDERNESS AND MACAROONS." Of course this is only true if my readers are familiar with the lyrical genius of a scrappy (I'm taking liberties here) Canadian band called The Stampeders.
The point is, nothing beats a Snackaroon after a hard spin class (the first one I've been to in nearly 2.5 months). Actually a glass of wine would be better, but seems somewhat counter productive. That is all for now.
Cheers,
Thursday 4 April 2013
SO I WROTE A LITTLE LETTER TO THE PUBLIC BROADCASTER
Well my usual witty banter will have to take a back seat for a moment. This afternoon I was listening to a radio program that I occasionally listen to, that deals with issues affecting the people of the province of Ontario. Today's guest on the show was the new Premier of Ontario (this is like a governor of a state for those of you who are not from here, for those of you don't know what that is either, I can't help you). Now I think its safe to say that around the globe economic issues and debt are at the fore front and we, in the province of Ontario are no exception. Recently our governing bodies, at both the provincial and national level, have been attempting to reduce the debt by forcing cuts to the public sector. This affects people like nurses, doctors, health and food inspectors, teachers, police and firefighters and many others. All the people you'd like to be disgruntled and unhappy in their work creating low moral and a lack of care for the quality of their work. Since the beginning of these "austerity measures" we've already had a massive e-coli outbreak from a meat packing plant that was violating all kinds of health and safety codes which caused illness and deaths (this might have been caught if the inspectors hadn't been cut in half) and now we've had an incident where over 1000 cancer patients have been given a watered down dose of chemo treatment. Teachers in the province of Ontario had their bargaining rights taken away and had a contract enforced on them. Much the same for police and firefights. All and all its not a great environment. The cherry on this little sundae is that many of the general public, who I can only assume are incredibly short sighted and jealous, would like to see those of us in the public sector have our wages slashed. On today's radio show, one such man called into ask out Premier what she planned to do about his very cause. Please find below the comment I sent into the radio station regarding this man's ideas:
Two other things I realize now that I should have mentioned was the reference to the sunshine list and the tax evaders. The sunshine list is an annual list that comes out stating the names of those who cleared the $100g mark for the year before tax. As for the tax evaders, a recent list was published of very rich people who've been hiding their money off shore in order to avoid paying taxes.
I'd like to address comments made by one of the callers who called in today to speak with Kathleen Wynn and, in turn, to address the Premier's response. The gentleman called in to voice his concern over paying taxes for private sector wages and what the government’s plan was to "rein that in" and make it more inline with the private sector. First of all, this gentleman, who is clearly disgruntled about public sector wages, perhaps should considered (as should the Premier) that those of us who are in high paying jobs are also paying significantly higher portions of taxes to alleviate the strain on those who don't make as much. Second of all, he also suggested that the sunshine list has ballooned over the last few years. For as long as I can remember the sunshine list cap has been $100,000.00 while inflation and cost of living has increased at a significant rate. The reality is that making $100,000.00 (before tax) does not, by any means, make a person rich. In addition, the people who make those lists, work hard and long hours to get there, providing services that we all depend on. This gentleman also suggested that public sector wages need to be brought more inline with the private sector. I can assure you, that the recently published list of millionaires who have been stashing money in off-shore accounts did not get rich by working in the public sector. Our wages are no more out of line with professionals in private sector doing similar work, in fact, with the latest round of government intervention, in many cases we are now making less. I'd also like to suggest that, when people think the solution is to cut wages, perhaps they should consider what would happen to their private sector jobs? Do they not think about the fact that if people are making less, they will intern spend less? And that suddenly everyone's wages are affected including their own? I think it's time people stopped being jealous of others and tearing them down, and started supporting each other so we can all help each other up. To address Ms. Wynn's comments about wage freezes etc... My contract is currently being negotiated, and I understand that times are tough, and as such I do not have an issue with taking a 3 or 4 year wage freeze to help out, but I do not see a solution to the debt problem on the backs of the working people who are paying some of the largest portions of the taxes for a debt that we did not create.
Petty jealousy is one of my least favourite characteristics in people. Ignorance and narrow-mindedness are also up there. I truly believe we are far better off standing united together than standing divided and squabbling over who makes more money. We can only help each other. I know that I am fortunate to have the job I have and I am grateful for it. I work hard and am very conscientious of those who are not as fortunate. I donate weekly to local charities right off my pay check, I donate to many organizations in need through sponsorship of activities through out the year and I also put a lot of my own time and energy into organizing an annual charity event for a local charity which typically raises between $3500-$4000, every penny of which goes directly to the charity. These are all things I would have to give up if I was suddenly forced to take a huge cut in pay, now how does that help anyone? It's very easy to judge and say the "grass is greener" but until you walk a mile in someone else's shoes you are in no position to make accusations. We are all in this together so stop wishing you had what someone else has and tearing them down because of it. Be glad they have what they have because it means that you and your children have a chance to have it too.
Cheers,
Sunday 31 March 2013
THE MAN MASSAGE
Now hold on, before you go setting your parental settings let me explain; in no way has this blog entered into 'R' rated territory. It is the Easter weekend as you may or may not know, and in order to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, I decided to book a spa weekend, as you do. You may also recall an earlier blog regarding the ordeal of booking a manicure and hot stone massage. You may recall I booked the hot stone massage portion of the spa day online. At the time I booked my massage I was under the impression that Frankie was a female. I don't think it unreasonable to think that anyone who a) goes by the name Frankie, and b) spells their name Frankie, would be a female. So you can imagine my surprise when Frankie was in fact an asian man.
Now I am by no means a prude who can not display my ankles in the presence of a man, but I was a little taken aback. Nevertheless I wasn't about to let this ruin my day of relaxation. The massage was super relaxing. The manicure changed my life (shellack is a way of life for me now). What did very nearly ruin my day, was a misguided attempt to go to Walmart to purchase a few necessary items, such as a new wallet (please see previous blogs). I drove in, turned around, and drove by back out. That in itself took me nearly 20 minutes (each time I recount this tale it gets a little bit longer, if I tell ten more people I'll have been in the Walmart parking lot for nigh on a decade). It was madness. Which leads me to this: How is it possible that stores being closed for 2 days can cause such mayhem?? Each year we know that the shops will be closed Good Friday and Easter Sunday and yet somehow we are always caught off guard and we flock like hordes to the shops, be they grocery, pharmacy or otherwise. And where do these people come from?? It's as if the entire populace has suddenly realized that the stores will be closed and so they crawl out from every nook and cranny and head, with vehemence, to their nearest shopping facility. Now I know, it seems somewhat hypocritical for me to sit and judge when I have admitted that I was also going to Walmart to pick up some required items, but in my defence, I didn't know I needed some of these things until it was too late. You see I'm staying at my parents house, getting it opened up for them upon their triumphant return from the southern states. How was I to know that there would be no detergent, both laundry and dish. Also, I could not have foreseen the mishap with the smoothie which would result in the need to do laundry in the first place. In the end I found myself shopping at 9pm at night to avoid the crowds.
And so my weekend took me from spa day, to my first outdoor run of the season, to bad sushi, to movie date, to movie solo date, to fabulous steak dinner with blue cheese cream sauce and sautéed mushrooms, and now, to watching A Knight's Tale on TV. All and all has been a brilliant and relaxing long weekend and I shall be saddened to say farewell to it, only to begin the countdown to the next long weekend...
Also I nearly burned half my hair off in a mishap with the BBQ. Perhaps a blog for another day...
So I hope you have all been (or still are) making merry and enjoying the holiday season. Until we meet again,
Cheers
Now I am by no means a prude who can not display my ankles in the presence of a man, but I was a little taken aback. Nevertheless I wasn't about to let this ruin my day of relaxation. The massage was super relaxing. The manicure changed my life (shellack is a way of life for me now). What did very nearly ruin my day, was a misguided attempt to go to Walmart to purchase a few necessary items, such as a new wallet (please see previous blogs). I drove in, turned around, and drove by back out. That in itself took me nearly 20 minutes (each time I recount this tale it gets a little bit longer, if I tell ten more people I'll have been in the Walmart parking lot for nigh on a decade). It was madness. Which leads me to this: How is it possible that stores being closed for 2 days can cause such mayhem?? Each year we know that the shops will be closed Good Friday and Easter Sunday and yet somehow we are always caught off guard and we flock like hordes to the shops, be they grocery, pharmacy or otherwise. And where do these people come from?? It's as if the entire populace has suddenly realized that the stores will be closed and so they crawl out from every nook and cranny and head, with vehemence, to their nearest shopping facility. Now I know, it seems somewhat hypocritical for me to sit and judge when I have admitted that I was also going to Walmart to pick up some required items, but in my defence, I didn't know I needed some of these things until it was too late. You see I'm staying at my parents house, getting it opened up for them upon their triumphant return from the southern states. How was I to know that there would be no detergent, both laundry and dish. Also, I could not have foreseen the mishap with the smoothie which would result in the need to do laundry in the first place. In the end I found myself shopping at 9pm at night to avoid the crowds.
And so my weekend took me from spa day, to my first outdoor run of the season, to bad sushi, to movie date, to movie solo date, to fabulous steak dinner with blue cheese cream sauce and sautéed mushrooms, and now, to watching A Knight's Tale on TV. All and all has been a brilliant and relaxing long weekend and I shall be saddened to say farewell to it, only to begin the countdown to the next long weekend...
Also I nearly burned half my hair off in a mishap with the BBQ. Perhaps a blog for another day...
So I hope you have all been (or still are) making merry and enjoying the holiday season. Until we meet again,
Cheers
Friday 29 March 2013
AND SO THIS HAS BEEN ONE MOTHER OF A DAY
There is no easy way or obvious place to start this blog. It has been one colossal disaster after another today. I suppose if I had to put my finger on the pulse of where things began to unravel I'd have to harken back to Wednesday. It seems a rather unfortuitous incident set the tone for a series of mishaps so epically comical in their occurrence it would seem unlikely that they could even coexist.
It all starts with my refusal to purchase a new wallet in spite of the fact that my current wallet is literally falling apart. The zipper has become more of an ornamental feature, and on occasion, a hindrance rather then a help when I'm trying to unzip to access various cards, cash and coin. But I have been soldiering on, limping my little wallet along with each passing day. You see this wallet has been the best wallet format I ever known. There is ample coin space, slots for cash or notes or postage stamps and the card storage is beyond compare. What's more is this tiny suitcase in charge of carrying all my worldly goods, came with a snazzy strap which made for easy transport. Also, it's red.
Now I know a wallet made from god-only-knows what material, manufactured in China, is in no way going to last the span of an average human wallet-carrying life, but I was hoping I could make it last for just a few more decades. Unfortunately it had other ideas. On Wednesday, where this swan song begins, my wallet ended up in a toilet. And not a toilet in my own house either. It was a toilet at a coffee shop I had stopped at. My wallet, was safe and securely (or so I thought) in the pocket of my sweatshirt, where it has resided many times before, but as I made ready to squat down I heard a mighty "sploosh" and when I looked, there was my wallet sinking into the depths. Without a thought for my own safety I plunged a hand in and retrieved said wallet, then headed straight for the sink. In retrospect this may have been a cry for help from my wallet. In a bungled attempt to commit Harry-Karry my wallet leapt from my pocket into the watery abyss, only to be saved for another days service.
Today's episode was a much more dramatic attempt to put an end to the wallet's suffering. This morning I had plans to meet friends at the One of a Kind Show in Toronto. This is an arts and crafts show of very high quality and I was very much looking forward to it. I was up early and out the door with my smoothie breakfast in hand. When I arrived at the show I still had 3/4 of a blueberry banana smoothie left. Like a rube I thought "I'll just throw that in my bag with my wallet and drink it later." Oh what a ridiculous plan indeed, but after a late night followed by an early morning, my brain was not totally firing on all cylinders yet. I ended up being about 45 minutes earlier then my friends which worked out well since I had a couple of things I specifically wanted to buy and I could get them before it got too busy. This, my friends, is when things took a tragic turn for the worst. Somewhere between the tapinade guy and the waxed linen bracelets my smoothie bottle overturned and spewed forth its contents like lava from Mt Vesuvius. It completely engulfed my wallet, and there I stood trying to pick up a coated dripping mess of a wallet while simultaneously keeping my cool that there was "nothing to see here." I made a mad dash for the restrooms in a feeble attempt to rescue my wallet once again. But I was foiled by the motion-sensor technology which sets off the faucet and no matter how frantically I waved my wallet, the sensor would not budge. This time there was no reckoning to be had. And so I sit on the sofa, while the entire contents of my wallet are airing out all across the kitchen counters. My wallet, may it rest in peace, is currently at the bottom of a fresh garbage bag where it has finally met its destiny. Tomorrow I will begin my quest anew to find a replacement, but I do not relish this task.
To add insult to an already injured day, when I returned home I discovered, to my horror, that the satellite dish programming had seemingly been erased. Thanks again Ma Bell! Oh well, at least the lapse of television has led to yet another stunning blog.
Also I got butter chicken sauce on my brand new white hoodie.
Cheers,
It all starts with my refusal to purchase a new wallet in spite of the fact that my current wallet is literally falling apart. The zipper has become more of an ornamental feature, and on occasion, a hindrance rather then a help when I'm trying to unzip to access various cards, cash and coin. But I have been soldiering on, limping my little wallet along with each passing day. You see this wallet has been the best wallet format I ever known. There is ample coin space, slots for cash or notes or postage stamps and the card storage is beyond compare. What's more is this tiny suitcase in charge of carrying all my worldly goods, came with a snazzy strap which made for easy transport. Also, it's red.
Now I know a wallet made from god-only-knows what material, manufactured in China, is in no way going to last the span of an average human wallet-carrying life, but I was hoping I could make it last for just a few more decades. Unfortunately it had other ideas. On Wednesday, where this swan song begins, my wallet ended up in a toilet. And not a toilet in my own house either. It was a toilet at a coffee shop I had stopped at. My wallet, was safe and securely (or so I thought) in the pocket of my sweatshirt, where it has resided many times before, but as I made ready to squat down I heard a mighty "sploosh" and when I looked, there was my wallet sinking into the depths. Without a thought for my own safety I plunged a hand in and retrieved said wallet, then headed straight for the sink. In retrospect this may have been a cry for help from my wallet. In a bungled attempt to commit Harry-Karry my wallet leapt from my pocket into the watery abyss, only to be saved for another days service.
Today's episode was a much more dramatic attempt to put an end to the wallet's suffering. This morning I had plans to meet friends at the One of a Kind Show in Toronto. This is an arts and crafts show of very high quality and I was very much looking forward to it. I was up early and out the door with my smoothie breakfast in hand. When I arrived at the show I still had 3/4 of a blueberry banana smoothie left. Like a rube I thought "I'll just throw that in my bag with my wallet and drink it later." Oh what a ridiculous plan indeed, but after a late night followed by an early morning, my brain was not totally firing on all cylinders yet. I ended up being about 45 minutes earlier then my friends which worked out well since I had a couple of things I specifically wanted to buy and I could get them before it got too busy. This, my friends, is when things took a tragic turn for the worst. Somewhere between the tapinade guy and the waxed linen bracelets my smoothie bottle overturned and spewed forth its contents like lava from Mt Vesuvius. It completely engulfed my wallet, and there I stood trying to pick up a coated dripping mess of a wallet while simultaneously keeping my cool that there was "nothing to see here." I made a mad dash for the restrooms in a feeble attempt to rescue my wallet once again. But I was foiled by the motion-sensor technology which sets off the faucet and no matter how frantically I waved my wallet, the sensor would not budge. This time there was no reckoning to be had. And so I sit on the sofa, while the entire contents of my wallet are airing out all across the kitchen counters. My wallet, may it rest in peace, is currently at the bottom of a fresh garbage bag where it has finally met its destiny. Tomorrow I will begin my quest anew to find a replacement, but I do not relish this task.
To add insult to an already injured day, when I returned home I discovered, to my horror, that the satellite dish programming had seemingly been erased. Thanks again Ma Bell! Oh well, at least the lapse of television has led to yet another stunning blog.
Also I got butter chicken sauce on my brand new white hoodie.
Cheers,
Thursday 21 March 2013
SNARKYNESS WILL GET YOU NOWHERE
Today was a relatively uneventful day. Relatively with the exception of the phone call I made to the day spa.
Lets take two steps back in order to take two steps forward, shall we? My parents are away for the winter in Texas, or as I prefer to call it, the land of pistol packers who would make Charlton Heston proud. They are planning on returning home from the winter pilgrimage some time in mid April. This means I will be on my own for the Easter weekend. Do not mourn for me good blog followers, for while many of you will be indulging in dinners of the turkey or ham or roast variety, I am planning a quiet retreat to my parents empty house to get the water turned back on and plug in the fridge (a big responsibility). I have decided to make this my long weekend retreat of luxury and pampering and self reflection. Self reflection will mostly involve watching romance movies wile drinking wine until I am in a self reflective state. I'll know I'm there when I start thinking that infomercials are a good idea and that I genuinely need those Hollywood Curls ribbons.
So in that light, yesterday I booked a hot stone massage for myself on-line at a local day spa. Then I thought afterwards, how about a spa manicure (pedicure is currently off the table due to a kickboxing class mishap that resulted in a missing toenail)?? So I left a message yesterday on the spa's voicemail and they called back this morning. In fairness I did start the conversation off on the wrong foot by saying I wanted to book on Saturday April 30th when I meant Saturday March 30th, but it went downhill from there. First I told the lady that I had booked a hot stone massage for 10:30 and before I could explain that I had done it on-line she cut me off and told me she didn't see it on the books. Once we had sorted that out and I told her I wanted a manicure she started booking it, and did not ask me which kind of manicure I wanted. Yes, there were three kinds of manicure, the regular (boring), the spa (my choice) and the man manicure (for men). After she started the booking I said that I wanted to do the spa manicure and I also wanted to try the new shellack polish. This caused a certain amount of sighing and was made out to be clearly an inconvenience on her part. Next she asked me for my last name, at which point she informed me, in an irritated tone, that I "was not in her system." I guess new customers are not a normal thing for this woman.... So now she has to take all my information, you can imagine how much of an ordeal this must have been for the receptionist at the spa. And to top it off, because I live in a different area code, she had to adjust her form. Oh the horror!
Anyway, here is to hoping that the actual spa experience is better then the appointment set up was.
Cheers,
Lets take two steps back in order to take two steps forward, shall we? My parents are away for the winter in Texas, or as I prefer to call it, the land of pistol packers who would make Charlton Heston proud. They are planning on returning home from the winter pilgrimage some time in mid April. This means I will be on my own for the Easter weekend. Do not mourn for me good blog followers, for while many of you will be indulging in dinners of the turkey or ham or roast variety, I am planning a quiet retreat to my parents empty house to get the water turned back on and plug in the fridge (a big responsibility). I have decided to make this my long weekend retreat of luxury and pampering and self reflection. Self reflection will mostly involve watching romance movies wile drinking wine until I am in a self reflective state. I'll know I'm there when I start thinking that infomercials are a good idea and that I genuinely need those Hollywood Curls ribbons.
So in that light, yesterday I booked a hot stone massage for myself on-line at a local day spa. Then I thought afterwards, how about a spa manicure (pedicure is currently off the table due to a kickboxing class mishap that resulted in a missing toenail)?? So I left a message yesterday on the spa's voicemail and they called back this morning. In fairness I did start the conversation off on the wrong foot by saying I wanted to book on Saturday April 30th when I meant Saturday March 30th, but it went downhill from there. First I told the lady that I had booked a hot stone massage for 10:30 and before I could explain that I had done it on-line she cut me off and told me she didn't see it on the books. Once we had sorted that out and I told her I wanted a manicure she started booking it, and did not ask me which kind of manicure I wanted. Yes, there were three kinds of manicure, the regular (boring), the spa (my choice) and the man manicure (for men). After she started the booking I said that I wanted to do the spa manicure and I also wanted to try the new shellack polish. This caused a certain amount of sighing and was made out to be clearly an inconvenience on her part. Next she asked me for my last name, at which point she informed me, in an irritated tone, that I "was not in her system." I guess new customers are not a normal thing for this woman.... So now she has to take all my information, you can imagine how much of an ordeal this must have been for the receptionist at the spa. And to top it off, because I live in a different area code, she had to adjust her form. Oh the horror!
Anyway, here is to hoping that the actual spa experience is better then the appointment set up was.
Cheers,
Wednesday 20 March 2013
WHAT I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN...
In no way prepared me for being a temporary supervisor in spite of the inspiring story that typically goes along with how what we learned in kindergarten has carried through are whole lives. Oh sure, colouring inside the line is a key life skill, but in no way did Mrs. Attice teach me how to be a mediator, a mentor and a mother, sometimes all at the same time. If I had the opportunity to re-write that little kindergarten ditty it might go something like this:
What I learned while being the temporary supervisor is that many people are unaware of their limitations and they will make every excuse and exception they can to save face. Other people who you thought you could trust to be your support and rely on for assistance will turn their back on you merely because you're their "boss." I have also learned that people who are capable of doing their work will respect your leadership because they are confident in their own abilities, but also aware enough of their own inexperiences to ask for help when they need it. Most of all, most importantly and eye opening of all, what I learned while being the temporary supervisor is that the only person you can control is yourself. You can not take ownership of the action of other people, you will end up on a very steep up hill battle in which you have no way to win. You can control yourself and your reactions and nothing more. Once you accept this, you will find that life is much easier. The one other thing, and perhaps the most difficult for many people, is that you have to let go of worrying about what other people think of you. The reality is, if you do a good job, you will get the approval of people who are far more important then a co-worker who is incapable of doing his/her job. Ultimately you must please yourself and, at the end of the day, feel good about what you did.
So to summarize, don't worry about what people think of you, be happy, and the only thing you can control is yourself, unless of course you are like me and controlling yourself means not eating a 1/8lb of parmesan cheese immediately before going to your MMA class. A very unwise decsion.
Cheers,
What I learned while being the temporary supervisor is that many people are unaware of their limitations and they will make every excuse and exception they can to save face. Other people who you thought you could trust to be your support and rely on for assistance will turn their back on you merely because you're their "boss." I have also learned that people who are capable of doing their work will respect your leadership because they are confident in their own abilities, but also aware enough of their own inexperiences to ask for help when they need it. Most of all, most importantly and eye opening of all, what I learned while being the temporary supervisor is that the only person you can control is yourself. You can not take ownership of the action of other people, you will end up on a very steep up hill battle in which you have no way to win. You can control yourself and your reactions and nothing more. Once you accept this, you will find that life is much easier. The one other thing, and perhaps the most difficult for many people, is that you have to let go of worrying about what other people think of you. The reality is, if you do a good job, you will get the approval of people who are far more important then a co-worker who is incapable of doing his/her job. Ultimately you must please yourself and, at the end of the day, feel good about what you did.
So to summarize, don't worry about what people think of you, be happy, and the only thing you can control is yourself, unless of course you are like me and controlling yourself means not eating a 1/8lb of parmesan cheese immediately before going to your MMA class. A very unwise decsion.
Cheers,
Monday 11 March 2013
AND THEN THERE WERE BLUE PANTS
So Target has landed in Canada, and like the rest of the masses, I went in search of new retail treasure over the weekend. Fortunately, long line ups and my lack of patience prevailed and stopped me from making any crazy "some assembly required" furniture purchases. Unfortunately, when we followed up Target with a trip to the mall where I was "just looking," I ended up making an unexpected purchase.
I think it is fair to say that we all have a "go to" look, a style that we feel confident is out best look, and we don't tend to stray from that. Hence the advent of shows like What not to Wear and the horrible one wear people's "friends" hire a stylist to get them out the MC Hammer pants and tube tops that they have been wearing since 1993. Now I seriously hope that none of my friends were thinking of signing me up for that show, but I am fiercely aware that I have a style. I'm a jeans and sweater kind of person. Jeans and hoodie during working hours. It's very difficult to break that mould once you've found something you are comfortable with, but from time to time I wish I had the courage to change it up and do something drastic. Which leads us to Saturday afternoon at Riki's and the case of the blue pants.
Now when I say blue, that could conjure up any spectrum of colour, everything from navy to cornflour is on the table. These pants are a vibrant royal blue, like the delicate wings of the eastern mountain blue bird. On top of that they are of the "skinny pant" variety. I have not worn pants that tapered at the bottom since pleats were in fashion, let alone pants that are so tight that they fit more like a pair of, well lack of a better word, tights... They are way out of my comfort zone. They are not even in the same comfort district, region or country, but for some reason I couldn't stop looking at myself in them. Sort of like a car crash. And now I have pants that I do not possess the fashionability to match with a shirt let alone shoes! I have no idea what I'm going to do with these, but I'm damned sure that I can't go out topless in bright blue pants wearing slippers. This can only mean one things. I must return to the mall on a quest for a shirt to match my blue pants. As far as shoes are concerned, lets just take it one textile at a time...
Also, I was deliberately throwing in as many "" as I could. It didn't start that way, but then it just kind of "happened."
Cheers,
I think it is fair to say that we all have a "go to" look, a style that we feel confident is out best look, and we don't tend to stray from that. Hence the advent of shows like What not to Wear and the horrible one wear people's "friends" hire a stylist to get them out the MC Hammer pants and tube tops that they have been wearing since 1993. Now I seriously hope that none of my friends were thinking of signing me up for that show, but I am fiercely aware that I have a style. I'm a jeans and sweater kind of person. Jeans and hoodie during working hours. It's very difficult to break that mould once you've found something you are comfortable with, but from time to time I wish I had the courage to change it up and do something drastic. Which leads us to Saturday afternoon at Riki's and the case of the blue pants.
Now when I say blue, that could conjure up any spectrum of colour, everything from navy to cornflour is on the table. These pants are a vibrant royal blue, like the delicate wings of the eastern mountain blue bird. On top of that they are of the "skinny pant" variety. I have not worn pants that tapered at the bottom since pleats were in fashion, let alone pants that are so tight that they fit more like a pair of, well lack of a better word, tights... They are way out of my comfort zone. They are not even in the same comfort district, region or country, but for some reason I couldn't stop looking at myself in them. Sort of like a car crash. And now I have pants that I do not possess the fashionability to match with a shirt let alone shoes! I have no idea what I'm going to do with these, but I'm damned sure that I can't go out topless in bright blue pants wearing slippers. This can only mean one things. I must return to the mall on a quest for a shirt to match my blue pants. As far as shoes are concerned, lets just take it one textile at a time...
Also, I was deliberately throwing in as many "" as I could. It didn't start that way, but then it just kind of "happened."
Cheers,
Wednesday 6 March 2013
TIME FLIES
Well once again I have been remiss in my blog duties. I know, I know, in order for this to be a success and for me to get that book deal I've so been longing for so I can hob-nob with the celebrities and eventually marry well out of my league due to my outlandish fortune, I must be more consistent.
The problem is finding the time to blog, and more importantly the material. I mean there are any number of monotonous things I could share with you, including the misfortunate incident of the guitar pick which I caught (or rather was given by a friend) at a concert and then tragically lost in a pants-pocket mishap of epic proportions. Or the terrible decision to eat a piece of cake at the retirement party last Friday, which resulted in stomach cramps and exhaustion which lasted for 3 days. It's finally time to admit I have a full fledged gluten allergy and I can not have "just a little bit" and be okay afterwards...
Truly the gluten allergy is a tragedy that is far reaching and which I'm sure I have not yet fully felt the affects of. It's one thing to be gluten free in the safety of your own home, but once you get out in that big bad world full of gluteny deliciousness, compounded by your own weakness for all things gluten, it's a really struggle. This weekend, for instance, I am headed to a retirement party on Friday (they are dropping like flies around my work place) and then on Saturday to a friend's place for dinner. Fortunately my friends are pretty good about my disease and often try to be gluten free themselves, however the retirement party owes me no allegiance and so I will be at the mercy of the veggie platter most likely.
But this begs a greater issue. I have long been bitten by the travel bug and have been to several countries, though not as many as I'd like. How do you convey to someone who doesn't even speak your language that you can not eat their bread? And what a shame to miss out on traditional fare because my intestines will reject it?? Even all inclusive vacations are loaded with gluten filled food. It does become a challenge. Not to mention my mother is already in panic mode because she doesn't know what to feed me. You know what they say, if it's not one thing, it's a mother, ha!
Okay, that is really all I have to contribute at this time, sad as that may be. Perhaps tomorrow will be unabashedly harried and full of exciting blog material. If it's not then be prepared for one of two things; 1) a very long hiatus between blogs or 2) more drivel like the above about gluten or Tim Hortons...
Cheers,
The problem is finding the time to blog, and more importantly the material. I mean there are any number of monotonous things I could share with you, including the misfortunate incident of the guitar pick which I caught (or rather was given by a friend) at a concert and then tragically lost in a pants-pocket mishap of epic proportions. Or the terrible decision to eat a piece of cake at the retirement party last Friday, which resulted in stomach cramps and exhaustion which lasted for 3 days. It's finally time to admit I have a full fledged gluten allergy and I can not have "just a little bit" and be okay afterwards...
Truly the gluten allergy is a tragedy that is far reaching and which I'm sure I have not yet fully felt the affects of. It's one thing to be gluten free in the safety of your own home, but once you get out in that big bad world full of gluteny deliciousness, compounded by your own weakness for all things gluten, it's a really struggle. This weekend, for instance, I am headed to a retirement party on Friday (they are dropping like flies around my work place) and then on Saturday to a friend's place for dinner. Fortunately my friends are pretty good about my disease and often try to be gluten free themselves, however the retirement party owes me no allegiance and so I will be at the mercy of the veggie platter most likely.
But this begs a greater issue. I have long been bitten by the travel bug and have been to several countries, though not as many as I'd like. How do you convey to someone who doesn't even speak your language that you can not eat their bread? And what a shame to miss out on traditional fare because my intestines will reject it?? Even all inclusive vacations are loaded with gluten filled food. It does become a challenge. Not to mention my mother is already in panic mode because she doesn't know what to feed me. You know what they say, if it's not one thing, it's a mother, ha!
Okay, that is really all I have to contribute at this time, sad as that may be. Perhaps tomorrow will be unabashedly harried and full of exciting blog material. If it's not then be prepared for one of two things; 1) a very long hiatus between blogs or 2) more drivel like the above about gluten or Tim Hortons...
Cheers,
Friday 22 February 2013
SHHHH!!! I'M TRACKING A LEOPARD PRINT CARDIGAN, SIZE LG!!
People, it's Friday night and I've had a couple of glasses of red wine (as if there's any other kind) and it finally occurred to me what my subject matter for my new blog post should be. It came to me in the form of a ridiculous H&M commercial, which is probably fodder for an entirely different blog, but I digress. I am no stranger to the land of retail, as you've probably noticed by now. For instance, just last week I made an impromptu, and somewhat long distance, trip to a store that I occasionally frequent for jeans, on the whimsy of a 40% discount I received via e-mail (oooo Lordy, thank god for spell check because it just took me about 5 minutes to figure out why my macbook was highlighting "received" for miss spelling, and I don't even want to tell you how much trouble "because" caused.) Now I'm watching this absurd commercial for a "biker jacket" being sported by a 16 year old anorexic model with bleach blond hair who has probably never even ridden a peddle bike, let alone a motorcycle.
Albeit the commercial is preposterous, but, as I said already, that is the least of my concerns. My issue stems from the arrangement of clothing at the H&M store, which seems to be modelled after my arch nemesis Winners. Look it, shopping is meant to be therapeutic, relaxing and an all around enjoyable experience. You know what I don't find relaxing or enjoyable in the least? Hunting for clothes. This is not an African safari people. If I find a sweater I like, I want all the sweaters to be in the same location, from extra small up to jumbo-saurus. I do not wish to stalk my prey through wracks of clothes which have already been picked over and relocated to inappropriate locations. You know what I mean, you find the fabulous pants you wanted on your size wrack only to discover that some freakish nymph who wears a size 0 (size 0, really?? What's next negative sizes??) decided she no longer wanted the fabulous chords and hung them willy-nilly in the size 14 aisle only for you to discover them, and for a brief moment, be elated to have found them in your size until you realize the sick and twisted truth. A let down of epic proportions.
And they always put out those teaser displays at the entrance where they have the best of the best of their new collection, but only three to peruse through so that they peak your interest and send you on the hunt, like a shark catching the scent of blood. I say no more fellow shoppers!! This madness must end! For centuries clothing has been organized by style and size in an orderly fashion making it easy to find what you are looking for, or at the very least ending the anticipation of whether or not that satin mango blouse is in fact available in your size, rather then searching feverishly in hopes that the shirt has been "miss-filed." Let us band together to end this cruelty and rally around the stores that provide us with a simple and satisfying shopping experience. Yes, I say shoppers unite!! Bring this calamity to an end once and for all, let there be order amongst the chaos!!
And if you really must hunt for something try finding tahini at your local grocer. I promise you, the challenge will more then fulfil that killer instinct.
Cheers,
Albeit the commercial is preposterous, but, as I said already, that is the least of my concerns. My issue stems from the arrangement of clothing at the H&M store, which seems to be modelled after my arch nemesis Winners. Look it, shopping is meant to be therapeutic, relaxing and an all around enjoyable experience. You know what I don't find relaxing or enjoyable in the least? Hunting for clothes. This is not an African safari people. If I find a sweater I like, I want all the sweaters to be in the same location, from extra small up to jumbo-saurus. I do not wish to stalk my prey through wracks of clothes which have already been picked over and relocated to inappropriate locations. You know what I mean, you find the fabulous pants you wanted on your size wrack only to discover that some freakish nymph who wears a size 0 (size 0, really?? What's next negative sizes??) decided she no longer wanted the fabulous chords and hung them willy-nilly in the size 14 aisle only for you to discover them, and for a brief moment, be elated to have found them in your size until you realize the sick and twisted truth. A let down of epic proportions.
And they always put out those teaser displays at the entrance where they have the best of the best of their new collection, but only three to peruse through so that they peak your interest and send you on the hunt, like a shark catching the scent of blood. I say no more fellow shoppers!! This madness must end! For centuries clothing has been organized by style and size in an orderly fashion making it easy to find what you are looking for, or at the very least ending the anticipation of whether or not that satin mango blouse is in fact available in your size, rather then searching feverishly in hopes that the shirt has been "miss-filed." Let us band together to end this cruelty and rally around the stores that provide us with a simple and satisfying shopping experience. Yes, I say shoppers unite!! Bring this calamity to an end once and for all, let there be order amongst the chaos!!
And if you really must hunt for something try finding tahini at your local grocer. I promise you, the challenge will more then fulfil that killer instinct.
Cheers,
Wednesday 20 February 2013
MMA STYLE MIDGET BASKETBALL ON ICE
Alright look it, there is nothing challenging about 6' 9" men slam dunking baskets. They are all tall enough to stand underneath said basket, reach up and touch it. What I'd like to see is full contact on ice basketball with no one over 5' tall on the teams. Now that's a sport.
I recently returned from our nation's Capital of Ottawa for a trip to fulfill a life long goal of skating on the Rideau canal. The skating was fantastic, the food was delicious, the company was terrific and the drinking was of shit show proportions. Nothing short of what I anticipated. But the trip brought up an interesting discussion, and that is the "bucket list," which seemingly has become cliched since the release of the major motion picture starting Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. One of the people I was on the trip with has a friend who is fighting leukaemia. She has recently been trying new things that she had never done before, from new foods to learning to ski. It took this fight with cancer to bring that out in her. So the debate became about waiting to make that list and saving your pennies until you have a massive life altering experience, or is it better make that list and check off those things on your list whenever the opportunity comes along. I know a lot of people who sit on both sides of the fence. On one hand, there is a certain risk with trying to fulfill life long goals which can often be costly and sometimes dangerous, say if you're life long goal is to climb Everest or to fight a sumo wrestler, but on the other hand, how do you want to look back on your life? I am no stranger to impulsive decisions, some of which have been costly, such as the purchase of a brand new vehicle on a whim and a trip to Ireland after the trip to Vegas got cancelled because everyone else bailed. Both of those events took place within two months of each other. Do I regret it? Sometimes when the car payments come out I wonder if I made the best decision possible, but ultimately there are few experiences I wish I hadn't had.
When I look back at my life I want to be able to say I did everything I wanted to do and that I wasn't constrained by money or, more importantly, fear. And while it may be folly to squander away every penny on excess, I would much rather die poor having lived, then die rich having done nothing but squirrel it all away.
As to the case of my friend's friend, I say good for her. She is taking something challenging and turning it into something incredibly positive, something that gives her purpose. Regardless of what caused her to make this decision, I can see no downside to it and I wish her all the best in everything.
So as for Ottawa, I can put a big check mark next to skating the canal (one of my less extravagant items on the list) and move onto the next big thing. I'm thinking maybe hand gliding in the Alps....
Cheers,
I recently returned from our nation's Capital of Ottawa for a trip to fulfill a life long goal of skating on the Rideau canal. The skating was fantastic, the food was delicious, the company was terrific and the drinking was of shit show proportions. Nothing short of what I anticipated. But the trip brought up an interesting discussion, and that is the "bucket list," which seemingly has become cliched since the release of the major motion picture starting Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. One of the people I was on the trip with has a friend who is fighting leukaemia. She has recently been trying new things that she had never done before, from new foods to learning to ski. It took this fight with cancer to bring that out in her. So the debate became about waiting to make that list and saving your pennies until you have a massive life altering experience, or is it better make that list and check off those things on your list whenever the opportunity comes along. I know a lot of people who sit on both sides of the fence. On one hand, there is a certain risk with trying to fulfill life long goals which can often be costly and sometimes dangerous, say if you're life long goal is to climb Everest or to fight a sumo wrestler, but on the other hand, how do you want to look back on your life? I am no stranger to impulsive decisions, some of which have been costly, such as the purchase of a brand new vehicle on a whim and a trip to Ireland after the trip to Vegas got cancelled because everyone else bailed. Both of those events took place within two months of each other. Do I regret it? Sometimes when the car payments come out I wonder if I made the best decision possible, but ultimately there are few experiences I wish I hadn't had.
When I look back at my life I want to be able to say I did everything I wanted to do and that I wasn't constrained by money or, more importantly, fear. And while it may be folly to squander away every penny on excess, I would much rather die poor having lived, then die rich having done nothing but squirrel it all away.
As to the case of my friend's friend, I say good for her. She is taking something challenging and turning it into something incredibly positive, something that gives her purpose. Regardless of what caused her to make this decision, I can see no downside to it and I wish her all the best in everything.
So as for Ottawa, I can put a big check mark next to skating the canal (one of my less extravagant items on the list) and move onto the next big thing. I'm thinking maybe hand gliding in the Alps....
Cheers,
Thursday 14 February 2013
THE CURE FOR THE COMMON HANGOVER
So it's Valentines Day and I find myself nauseated beyond my usual contempt for the made up holiday that flies in the face of singledom everywhere and makes those of us who remain unattached feel somehow ashamed and like less of a contributing member of society then our paired up counterparts. And while I know it seems the single girl rant would be cliched, that my readers, is precisely what you should expect from me by now.
On the topic of my nausea and exhaustion, I can say with little regret, it is entirely self inflicted. In true anti-valentines fashion, I went out last night, on the 13th of February, to a concert, where I double fisted double glasses of wine (two glasses poured into one, the drink line was a 30 minute wait) which I then drank through a straw so that I could dance without fear of spilled wine. It was a country concert, but let me be clear, this is not your grandma's country music. We partied like it was 1999 and if I'd had access to a computer last night you surely would have been treated to one of my infamous drunk blogs. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately, depending on your prerogative) we did not have to deal with that aftermath this morning.
The aftermath I am dealing with is exhaustion, fuzzy head, churning stomach and extremely sore shoulders which I can only assume is from excessive arm waving. Yes the night was a success, but surviving the hangover is the real change. Why is it that the only known cure for a hangover is greasy food? It's the one thing we can collectively agree, that after a night of excess, is the only thing that will satisfy our angry stomachs. Have you ever woken up hungover and thought "a salad would really make me feel better?" No you haven't, I don't care what kind of vegan tree hugging hippy you are on a normal day. When your head is the size of a beach ball there isn't enough tofu in the world that will comfort you. Look at the fast food industry; they know this phenomenon well and have been capitalizing on it for years with post bar hours. There must be some kind of magic in grease that we have not yet discovered. For now I am content to do my own studies. I will keep you posted of my progress.
Now on the more contentious subject of Valentines Day, what can I say that hasn't already been said by others? I mean we all know what a commercial machine it is. Flowers, chocolates, cards, candy, restaurants, all beneficiaries of the great marketing machine that keeps this "holiday" alive. And I'm sure it's lovely to be given flowers or whatever from your significant other, but isn't it worth more to receive some romantic gesture, big or small, for no reason? It's expected on this, the midway point of February, that couples, and lets face it the onus falls primarily on the male in the relationship, to run out and buy some little trinket to express how much they love their partner. And how about that pressure? What if you get the wrong thing? What if your partner's gift to you is significantly better then the one you got them? Imagine the horror of a new relationship, when you just know the meaning of your gift/card/gesture is going to be analized by every female the gift receiver knows and will be assigned meaning you could never dreamt possible let alone deliberately thought of. The length of time the relationship will last could be in jeopardy all because of some ridiculous holiday, which I firmly believe, was made up by Hallmark Cards. I say no more my friends! It is time we liberated ourselves from this dated practice of shattering the self confidence of school children when they don't receive as many cards in their little card bag as their more popular class mates.
Let's stop this madness now and in that vane I would like to announce February 13th shall henceforth be known as "drink in my hand day." Festivities will consist of putting a drink in your hand, and having a rocking good time with friends and not caring what the next day is going to feel like. It doesn't matter, you're good friend grease will be there to ease you through the next day anyway.
Cheers,
Tuesday 12 February 2013
EVERYONE HAS THEIR CROSSES TO BARE, MINE COMES IN THE FORM OF AN 80'S HAIR BAND
For sometime now I've been agonizing over a fork in the path of my life. With recent changes at work through means of retirements and promotions there was an opportunity for me to advance in my career, which is all well and good, except it doesn't coincide with my actual goal to transfer to an office closer to where I grew up. It was seemingly a case of choosing whether my career was more important or my life was more important and while I think we sometimes think those two things are synonymous, this experience really showed me that they are, in fact, not. You see, had I chosen the route of promotion I would, at best, have prolonged the return to a place I love and feel most comfortable in my skin, and at worst eliminated the possibility altogether. On the flip side, I am very driven to succeed and expand my horizons through new experiences and challenges. I need this constant motion to keep me satisfied in my job. I spent several weeks weighing the pros and cons of the two options, but ultimately kept coming back to one thing; if you strip away everything down to the bare bones of the choice it truly does come down to choosing between life and career. It was seemingly a no-brainer for me. My job is just a job and life without me in it will continue as it has for many years before my arrival. When my time is done at this company I want my life to be fulfilling out side of work. Nevertheless I saw the opportunity to interview for the promotion as a chance to gain some valuable knowledge for the future as I am confident other opportunities will arise. It's an aging work force so it only stands to reason this to be true.
Yesterday was D-day. Myself and three other candidates were interviewed, including one co-worker and one person who is currently already in the roll, just at a different location. My interview went well, I knew that the interviewers were impressed. My co-workers interview did not go as well and I could tell he was anxious to pick my brain and see whether I was serious competition or not. He's been campaigning around the office for several weeks since this all came out, but I've know for sometime that the manager who was filling the vacancy was doing his best to give me this chance, which only added to the stress of my predicament. In the end the manager was advised by our HR department that the existing supervisor must be given the job as there was no grounds to say that any one of us were better qualified when she has been doing the job for nearly three years now. It was a brilliant learning experience and I got exceptionally positive feedback from both my interviewers. I am glad I went through the process, but even more relieved that I was not forced to make a decision.
The cherry on the sunday for me was that plainly my co-worker thought I had been offered the job this morning when he was me being called into the office first thing. The look on his face was quite priceless and was worth going through it all.
The funny side of this story is that, while I was so stressed out about this interview I dreamt about zombies on Sunday night. The dream was so intense that I woke frightened followed by very hungry which was a strange sensation. Dream about zombies = being hungry?? Hungry for what though...
I know there is little levity in tonights blog, not to my usual repartee, but I thought it was an experience worth sharing and putting some perspective out there for anyone who may be in a similar situation. Hopefully tonights title at least brought a smile to your face.
That's all for now,
Cheers
Thursday 7 February 2013
I KNOW IT'S BECAUSE ITS FEBRUARY, BUT I REALLY THINK I NEED A NEW PAIR OF SHOES
I've made it this far, all the way to the first week of February, touting the merits of winter and cold and snow. And while I genuinely do believe that lots of snow and a traditional Canadian winter are detrimental to the health of a bountiful harvest and the replenishment of water tables, I find that I have hit the wall this week. Perhaps its due to the preverbal February blahs, perhaps the lack of sunlight and shortened days is finally starting to take a toll, or perhaps its because I am in my 32nd year of life and I know (or optimistically hope) there will be many more winters to weather.
As I type there is winter storm a raging out my window, the culmination of an Alberta Clipper and a Texas low which by all accounts I am assured will lead to an inevitable snow-maggedon. The weather forecasters tell me that the end is nye and I should prepare to have to tunnel my way to work tomorrow through an unending amount of snow. Now as I said, I have weathered 32 winters, and I have seen this type of wildly outlandish claims of excessive snow fall, followed by hurricane force winds many times before. More often than not the claims are exaggerated. I'm sure there will be snow, it is early February in a country who's alternate name is The Great White North.
But more to the point of my story, yesterday while sitting in my vehicle, it hit me. That overwhelming urge and longing for warmer days to come. Thus far I've been able to placate my self with promises of winter activities, such as skiing and skating (and we all know how that went). I've also tried a countdown estimating the time when we will begin to see a light at the end of this long dark tunnel (two tunnel references in one day, that's a first) by telling myself "there's only a couple months left now, we've made it all the way to February and February is a short month. Then comes March and the days will be longer, and then April is here and surely the end of April will begin to bring some warmer weather, so it's not so bad really, just a few weeks..." But people I don't know how much more of this I can take. I bring my sunglasses with me everywhere I go in hopes of coaxing the sun out from behind the clouds, even at night. I've started telling the cat stories because the weather is too crappy to venture out in for social activities. I've developed a ridiculous school girl crush on Tom Hardy and find myself on Amazon.ca ordering every Tom Hardy movie I can get my hands on (PS check out Lawless and Warrior, will let you know how the rest are at a later date and in all fairness he is a fantastic actor, well worth checking out). For god's sake I was even sucked in by the shopping channel. This is not healthy behaviour. This is the behaviour of of a person who has contracted a full blown case of cabin fever compounded by lack of sunlight. I'm on the brink and I know there is only one solution for this crisis. I need new shoes! And I don't mean functional shoes such as runners for the upcoming training season or new winter boots. I mean fancy dancing shoes. Shoes that make others say "where did you get those shoes, they're spectacular." I'm talking Wizard of Oz ruby slippers here people. It's what I need and if I don't satisfy that one small craving that I can control, well the consequences could be disastrous. Fear not good reader. For as luck would have it I'm sucking up my anxiety of being in large crowds and heading to a mall this weekend. The main goal is to start purchasing something for a retirement gift, but the secondary goal will now be foot related.
One final note to leave you with, and I hope this doesn't loose something in translation from spoken word to written word. What happens when a cow jumps over a fence??
Udder destruction! Ha!
Cheers,
As I type there is winter storm a raging out my window, the culmination of an Alberta Clipper and a Texas low which by all accounts I am assured will lead to an inevitable snow-maggedon. The weather forecasters tell me that the end is nye and I should prepare to have to tunnel my way to work tomorrow through an unending amount of snow. Now as I said, I have weathered 32 winters, and I have seen this type of wildly outlandish claims of excessive snow fall, followed by hurricane force winds many times before. More often than not the claims are exaggerated. I'm sure there will be snow, it is early February in a country who's alternate name is The Great White North.
But more to the point of my story, yesterday while sitting in my vehicle, it hit me. That overwhelming urge and longing for warmer days to come. Thus far I've been able to placate my self with promises of winter activities, such as skiing and skating (and we all know how that went). I've also tried a countdown estimating the time when we will begin to see a light at the end of this long dark tunnel (two tunnel references in one day, that's a first) by telling myself "there's only a couple months left now, we've made it all the way to February and February is a short month. Then comes March and the days will be longer, and then April is here and surely the end of April will begin to bring some warmer weather, so it's not so bad really, just a few weeks..." But people I don't know how much more of this I can take. I bring my sunglasses with me everywhere I go in hopes of coaxing the sun out from behind the clouds, even at night. I've started telling the cat stories because the weather is too crappy to venture out in for social activities. I've developed a ridiculous school girl crush on Tom Hardy and find myself on Amazon.ca ordering every Tom Hardy movie I can get my hands on (PS check out Lawless and Warrior, will let you know how the rest are at a later date and in all fairness he is a fantastic actor, well worth checking out). For god's sake I was even sucked in by the shopping channel. This is not healthy behaviour. This is the behaviour of of a person who has contracted a full blown case of cabin fever compounded by lack of sunlight. I'm on the brink and I know there is only one solution for this crisis. I need new shoes! And I don't mean functional shoes such as runners for the upcoming training season or new winter boots. I mean fancy dancing shoes. Shoes that make others say "where did you get those shoes, they're spectacular." I'm talking Wizard of Oz ruby slippers here people. It's what I need and if I don't satisfy that one small craving that I can control, well the consequences could be disastrous. Fear not good reader. For as luck would have it I'm sucking up my anxiety of being in large crowds and heading to a mall this weekend. The main goal is to start purchasing something for a retirement gift, but the secondary goal will now be foot related.
One final note to leave you with, and I hope this doesn't loose something in translation from spoken word to written word. What happens when a cow jumps over a fence??
Udder destruction! Ha!
Cheers,
Tuesday 5 February 2013
THE PROBLEM WITH THE ALL YOU CAN EAT SUSHI BUFFET IS THAT YOU CAN'T EAT AS MUCH AS YOU THINK YOU CAN...
I don't know what that Beyonce business was about. I guess I was just feeling guilty I hadn't blogged in a while and needed to say something, anything, irrelevant and useless as it was.
And in that vane I wish to share with you a small snippit from some texts I sent out at lunch today. Allow me to set the scene: An all you can eat sushi lunch buffet and me alone at the table in a somewhat busy restaurant.
Now this part is verbatim:
Here's a little light reading for your leisure: lunch update #1; yam sushi has tempura batter and is therefore, not gluten free.
Update #2: There's a guy here who sounds like Ray Romano. I can't see him so it's possible he is Ray Romano. Possible, but not likely...
Update #3: He is not Ray Romano, we have visual confirmation
Update #4: I have three pieces of sushi left and I think I might die, but it's the all you can eat buffet and they will charge me if I leave them. Also they are the tuna rolls that they caution us against wasting. I don't' want to be on the sushi black list!
Update #5: I ate the sushi and now I know how the pigeons that eat the rice at weddings feel. I might die.
Update #6: If I don't die, I may use this entire series of texts as my blog tonight
Update #7: I also have the theme song to Bumper Stumpers stuck in my head which is just weird
Update #8: I hope you laughed so hard at some these that you peed a little bit. I know I did...
The response I got to this last comment was this "My boob's are leaking." I did not know I could have that kind of affect on someone.
One final update; the vacuum cleaner is working again. A piece popped off the hose and when I put it back on that puppy started sucking like a starving calf in a room full of utters (there's a mental image for you!).
Cheers,
And in that vane I wish to share with you a small snippit from some texts I sent out at lunch today. Allow me to set the scene: An all you can eat sushi lunch buffet and me alone at the table in a somewhat busy restaurant.
Now this part is verbatim:
Here's a little light reading for your leisure: lunch update #1; yam sushi has tempura batter and is therefore, not gluten free.
Update #2: There's a guy here who sounds like Ray Romano. I can't see him so it's possible he is Ray Romano. Possible, but not likely...
Update #3: He is not Ray Romano, we have visual confirmation
Update #4: I have three pieces of sushi left and I think I might die, but it's the all you can eat buffet and they will charge me if I leave them. Also they are the tuna rolls that they caution us against wasting. I don't' want to be on the sushi black list!
Update #5: I ate the sushi and now I know how the pigeons that eat the rice at weddings feel. I might die.
Update #6: If I don't die, I may use this entire series of texts as my blog tonight
Update #7: I also have the theme song to Bumper Stumpers stuck in my head which is just weird
Update #8: I hope you laughed so hard at some these that you peed a little bit. I know I did...
The response I got to this last comment was this "My boob's are leaking." I did not know I could have that kind of affect on someone.
One final update; the vacuum cleaner is working again. A piece popped off the hose and when I put it back on that puppy started sucking like a starving calf in a room full of utters (there's a mental image for you!).
Cheers,
Sunday 3 February 2013
HOW BEYONCE RUINED THE SUPERBOWL
So I guess pants really impede ones ability to sing according to the half time show at the Super Bowl with Beyonce. And now there's been a power surge which has caused the game to come to a halt and I can only believe that Beyonce is somehow responsible for that. What's more then this, is that my spell checker recognized Beyonce as a word. You know you've made it big when your unusual and uniquely spelled name is recognized by spell check around the world....
You know, part of me was hoping for, as Justin Timberlake coined it, a "wardrobe malfunction" so that we could go back to the days of classic rock half time shows. Remember the Springsteen set and the Rolling Stones? Don't get me wrong, Beyonce is a fiercely talented singer, but when only 25% of the performance is singing, and the rest is gyrating followed by hair tossing, something gets lost in translation for me. Just sing, and for god's sake put on some pants!
Looks like the game is about to start so I will leave you with that food for thought. I will attempt to regale you with more tales of woe and glory in the days yet to come....
Cheers,
You know, part of me was hoping for, as Justin Timberlake coined it, a "wardrobe malfunction" so that we could go back to the days of classic rock half time shows. Remember the Springsteen set and the Rolling Stones? Don't get me wrong, Beyonce is a fiercely talented singer, but when only 25% of the performance is singing, and the rest is gyrating followed by hair tossing, something gets lost in translation for me. Just sing, and for god's sake put on some pants!
Looks like the game is about to start so I will leave you with that food for thought. I will attempt to regale you with more tales of woe and glory in the days yet to come....
Cheers,
Thursday 31 January 2013
BUT FOR JUST 6 EASY PAYMENTS OF $93.39 YOU TOO COULD OWN A VITAMIX
Oh this has been a long time coming people, and by that I mean both this blog and the inevitable breakdown I had while watching the shopping network nearly a fortnight ago.
First off, let me start by saying, the lapse in blog was not my doing. Well it was, but in a way that was related to a very busy schedule of kick-boxing, skating, spinning and training. I have so much to share with you, but I'm afraid my crazy would be too overwhelming for one long blog so I may have to break this up over a few blogs. Just pace yourself, if you're reading this, and if you begin to feel, at any time, the need to make an impulsive purchase from the shopping network followed by an immediate urge to go to Tim Horton's, even if you don't have a Tim Horton's because you live in Australia, please stop reading at once! This is my disclaimer and I will not be held accountable for any ill fated decisions regarding shopping or eating.
Now let us begin by harkening back to yesteryore, or as I like to call it, Sunday of the week will. I don't normally watch the shopping channel. Nor do I typically eat omelettes and homefries I made myself on a Sunday morning, but sometimes things just kind of fall into place and this is where the story begins. Actually the story begins further back if you recall my raw food expedition and cooking class. Our instructor had this machine called a Vitamix. I had never heard of such a contraption, but it's basically a blender on crack. This thing can take any solid and turn in into ground up powder in seconds. I think it has the horse power of a dodge hemi at a NASCAR race. I also learned, on that fateful Sunday morning, that it is so powerful it can make hot soup simply by leaving the combined soup ingredients in the Vitamix for five minutes and letting the friction the blades generate do the work. That's a powerful tool. Now that I have accepted the fact that I have a gluten allergy, I find myself experimenting more and more in the kitchen. And what's more, I find myself wanting to make things from scratch so I know exactly what is in them (see the pestle and mortar blog from earlier). But so many recipes call for blenders and food processors and while I have a small blender that does a decent job at smoothies, I am limited in my abilities to pulverize food to a pulp like consistency as so many recipes call for. And so, in a moment of weakness, watching the shopping channel showing off all the fancy features of the vitamin (it's a blender, food processor, ice cream maker, nut butter maker and 16 different kitchen appliances all in one!) I logged onto the website and ordered. What would regularly cost close to $700 at a store, will be mine in six easy payments of $93.39 and let me tell you, when that high-powered blending bastard gets delivered, I'm going to make things I didn't even know I could make.
Okay, so that's what happened almost two weeks ago, let's fast forward a bit now to last Sunday. Actually wait, like all my stories, we have to back up a bit first. So about two months ago a friend invited me to join her and her husband and some other friends to go to Ottawa in February to skate on the Rideau canal. For those unfamiliar with this, it is a Canadian tradition that dates back for many years. People skate the canal, some people skate to work, some just for leisure. It is something I have always wanted to do, so when she asked I did not hesitate. The hesitation came much later when I realized it's been nine years since I strapped a pair of blades to my feet and went out on the ice. I wasn't worried though, as I told all my friends, "I was born skating, I took to it like a duck to water, I just know I'll pick it up again as soon as I get on the ice." Nevertheless I thought it imperative to get out a couple of times and get some practice in, after all we will be skating 15km round trip, though we're stopping at a bar at the midway point, so the 7.5km back may be less graceful all around. Last Friday I dug out the old figure skates and had them sharpened and then Sunday I headed to the outdoor rink, hopeful that it would be empty and I could have the rink to myself. Now for anyone who is familiar with skating and skating rinks, let me describe this out door "rink." It was essentially a patch of grass behind the arena that they have flooded. It's full of ruts and bumps and even a couple of hills. It is also a perfect square shape and has no boards around the outside. It's not ideal. When I arrived, there was a husband and wife and their two young children shooting pucks at a net. I thought, "well that's not too bad, it's only four people." I started to lace up the skates, remembering then how uncomfortable they are, and then wondered how I would get from my vehicle to the ice surface that was about 20 feet away. Not a large distance by any means, but when I took my first step on to the blades in almost a decade, I might as well have been crossing the Mohave desert. I Bambi stepped my way across the snow covered grass and made it to the surface. I took my first uncertain steps on to the ice and felt the familiar slice of the blade on ice. I was still very unsteady and working with a small end of the "rink" while the family continued to shoot pucks at the net. The father informed me they'd stay at their end and stay out of my way, clearly seeing how unsteady I was. A mere six or seven strides in I caught a pick in a rut where grass was growing through the ice and went down like wounded gazelle. I am exaggerating a little. I dropped onto one knee, and then somehow through a miracle of god I managed to get back up like nothing happened. Oh but something had happened and a few moments later, the five year old puck shooting child took it upon himself to offer me his assistance. He skated over to me and said "skating is easy, you just have to bend your knees." Now had this happened to anyone else and I saw it, it would have been heartwarming and sweet. He was genuinely concerned and trying to help. Being that I was on the receiving end of this child's encouragement, it was less endearing and more humiliating. I politely smiled and explained it had been a long time since I'd been on skates, so much for a "duck in water." I looked more like a wounded duck who had sustained a head injury. After about ten or fifteen minutes I could feel I was beginning to get my ice-legs back, but then a new problem arose. I realized, with a lack of board to help my get off the ice, there was a maximum potential for face plant upon exiting the rink. Another ten minutes passed and the hockey family was beginning to pack up. I thought "ok good, once they're gone I'll make my move to get off the ice and if I fall, no one will be there to witness it," kind of like the old adage, if a tree falls in the forrest... This was not to be, for just as they began to load up, two car loads of people arrived. I had only two options. I could stay on the ice for the rest of the day until there was no one there, or I could just suck it up and go for it. Since my feet were aching and I was beginning to get dizzy from going around in a circle on my small patch of ice, I opted to just go for it. Amazingly, it went off without a hitch. I feel like it wasn't totally inane to watch also, but I could have just been so exhilarated to be off the ice without further incident that I am remembering it with rose coloured glasses.
So it seems I have some work to do before Ottawa after all. No need to worry, there's still time, and at the very least I'm sure it will generate more fodder for blog material.
I had some random commentary regarding Tim Horton's, but I think that's enough for one night. My left eye is beginning to twitch and and I'm starting to feel like I need chocolate. That's a sign that I should quit now while I'm ahead.
Cheers,
First off, let me start by saying, the lapse in blog was not my doing. Well it was, but in a way that was related to a very busy schedule of kick-boxing, skating, spinning and training. I have so much to share with you, but I'm afraid my crazy would be too overwhelming for one long blog so I may have to break this up over a few blogs. Just pace yourself, if you're reading this, and if you begin to feel, at any time, the need to make an impulsive purchase from the shopping network followed by an immediate urge to go to Tim Horton's, even if you don't have a Tim Horton's because you live in Australia, please stop reading at once! This is my disclaimer and I will not be held accountable for any ill fated decisions regarding shopping or eating.
Now let us begin by harkening back to yesteryore, or as I like to call it, Sunday of the week will. I don't normally watch the shopping channel. Nor do I typically eat omelettes and homefries I made myself on a Sunday morning, but sometimes things just kind of fall into place and this is where the story begins. Actually the story begins further back if you recall my raw food expedition and cooking class. Our instructor had this machine called a Vitamix. I had never heard of such a contraption, but it's basically a blender on crack. This thing can take any solid and turn in into ground up powder in seconds. I think it has the horse power of a dodge hemi at a NASCAR race. I also learned, on that fateful Sunday morning, that it is so powerful it can make hot soup simply by leaving the combined soup ingredients in the Vitamix for five minutes and letting the friction the blades generate do the work. That's a powerful tool. Now that I have accepted the fact that I have a gluten allergy, I find myself experimenting more and more in the kitchen. And what's more, I find myself wanting to make things from scratch so I know exactly what is in them (see the pestle and mortar blog from earlier). But so many recipes call for blenders and food processors and while I have a small blender that does a decent job at smoothies, I am limited in my abilities to pulverize food to a pulp like consistency as so many recipes call for. And so, in a moment of weakness, watching the shopping channel showing off all the fancy features of the vitamin (it's a blender, food processor, ice cream maker, nut butter maker and 16 different kitchen appliances all in one!) I logged onto the website and ordered. What would regularly cost close to $700 at a store, will be mine in six easy payments of $93.39 and let me tell you, when that high-powered blending bastard gets delivered, I'm going to make things I didn't even know I could make.
Okay, so that's what happened almost two weeks ago, let's fast forward a bit now to last Sunday. Actually wait, like all my stories, we have to back up a bit first. So about two months ago a friend invited me to join her and her husband and some other friends to go to Ottawa in February to skate on the Rideau canal. For those unfamiliar with this, it is a Canadian tradition that dates back for many years. People skate the canal, some people skate to work, some just for leisure. It is something I have always wanted to do, so when she asked I did not hesitate. The hesitation came much later when I realized it's been nine years since I strapped a pair of blades to my feet and went out on the ice. I wasn't worried though, as I told all my friends, "I was born skating, I took to it like a duck to water, I just know I'll pick it up again as soon as I get on the ice." Nevertheless I thought it imperative to get out a couple of times and get some practice in, after all we will be skating 15km round trip, though we're stopping at a bar at the midway point, so the 7.5km back may be less graceful all around. Last Friday I dug out the old figure skates and had them sharpened and then Sunday I headed to the outdoor rink, hopeful that it would be empty and I could have the rink to myself. Now for anyone who is familiar with skating and skating rinks, let me describe this out door "rink." It was essentially a patch of grass behind the arena that they have flooded. It's full of ruts and bumps and even a couple of hills. It is also a perfect square shape and has no boards around the outside. It's not ideal. When I arrived, there was a husband and wife and their two young children shooting pucks at a net. I thought, "well that's not too bad, it's only four people." I started to lace up the skates, remembering then how uncomfortable they are, and then wondered how I would get from my vehicle to the ice surface that was about 20 feet away. Not a large distance by any means, but when I took my first step on to the blades in almost a decade, I might as well have been crossing the Mohave desert. I Bambi stepped my way across the snow covered grass and made it to the surface. I took my first uncertain steps on to the ice and felt the familiar slice of the blade on ice. I was still very unsteady and working with a small end of the "rink" while the family continued to shoot pucks at the net. The father informed me they'd stay at their end and stay out of my way, clearly seeing how unsteady I was. A mere six or seven strides in I caught a pick in a rut where grass was growing through the ice and went down like wounded gazelle. I am exaggerating a little. I dropped onto one knee, and then somehow through a miracle of god I managed to get back up like nothing happened. Oh but something had happened and a few moments later, the five year old puck shooting child took it upon himself to offer me his assistance. He skated over to me and said "skating is easy, you just have to bend your knees." Now had this happened to anyone else and I saw it, it would have been heartwarming and sweet. He was genuinely concerned and trying to help. Being that I was on the receiving end of this child's encouragement, it was less endearing and more humiliating. I politely smiled and explained it had been a long time since I'd been on skates, so much for a "duck in water." I looked more like a wounded duck who had sustained a head injury. After about ten or fifteen minutes I could feel I was beginning to get my ice-legs back, but then a new problem arose. I realized, with a lack of board to help my get off the ice, there was a maximum potential for face plant upon exiting the rink. Another ten minutes passed and the hockey family was beginning to pack up. I thought "ok good, once they're gone I'll make my move to get off the ice and if I fall, no one will be there to witness it," kind of like the old adage, if a tree falls in the forrest... This was not to be, for just as they began to load up, two car loads of people arrived. I had only two options. I could stay on the ice for the rest of the day until there was no one there, or I could just suck it up and go for it. Since my feet were aching and I was beginning to get dizzy from going around in a circle on my small patch of ice, I opted to just go for it. Amazingly, it went off without a hitch. I feel like it wasn't totally inane to watch also, but I could have just been so exhilarated to be off the ice without further incident that I am remembering it with rose coloured glasses.
So it seems I have some work to do before Ottawa after all. No need to worry, there's still time, and at the very least I'm sure it will generate more fodder for blog material.
I had some random commentary regarding Tim Horton's, but I think that's enough for one night. My left eye is beginning to twitch and and I'm starting to feel like I need chocolate. That's a sign that I should quit now while I'm ahead.
Cheers,
Friday 25 January 2013
S. McGRILLZ AND THE UNFORTUNATE CASE OF THE WATER COOLER
There is a social protocol that should exist, call it chivalry, call it manners, call it being a normal self aware human being, but there is a social protocol that should exist. The key to this statement is the hinge word SHOULD. Because the thing about SHOULD, is that it implies that there is another option out there, and that is in fact the case.
For what seems like an eternity, I have long been fighting an uphill battle in the kitchen at work. More to the point, an uphill battle at the water cooler. There are many people in the office I work in, upwards of 20-30 on any given day. With that many people filling variously sized water bottles and thermoses, inevitably the water cooler gets emptied and needs to be refilled. Now, social protocol SHOULD dictate that if you empty the cooler, you should replace the cooler. The other, and more popular option, is to walk away and let someone else deal with it. There was a tipping point several months ago, when I happened to be in the kitchen washing a dish at the same time as a group of labourers were in the kitchen. One guy was filling his water bottle when I heard him say "the water jug is empty." When I turned around, I realized he had walked out of the kitchen, down the hall to the other water cooler to finish filling his water bottle, leaving the water cooler in the kitchen bone dry. I know this is such a small thing in the grand scheme of life, but honest to god, it makes me bat shit crazy!! (sidebar: who was the first one to look at bat guano and say "well that's crazy?") It makes me so crazy that I think I am now secretly called "water cooler nazi" behind my back. In all fairness they could call me that to my face because I know I have some serious issues with the water cooler.
The thing is its not just a water cooler. Well it is a water cooler, but its a metaphor. Its the sad state of a societal back slide that runs the gambit from texting in meetings, ignoring the facilitator to letting the door slam in someone's face (and we all know how I feel about that). I don't mean to harp people, because I believe that the human race is not totally a waste of time, and I believe in hope for our future. I just wish that we could all take a moment to reflect on the fact that we are not the only ones in the whole world. If you empty the coffee pot at work, make another pot, if you see someone struggling with a bunch of boxes etc, help them, if you can safely change lanes in traffic to allow someone to merge, do it. These are simple things that will not cost you anything but time, and will make this world we live in, a better place. We are all in this together, please don't loose sight of that and for the love of all things good and holy in this world, if you use up the last of the water in the water cooler jug, change the damned thing!!
Cheers,
For what seems like an eternity, I have long been fighting an uphill battle in the kitchen at work. More to the point, an uphill battle at the water cooler. There are many people in the office I work in, upwards of 20-30 on any given day. With that many people filling variously sized water bottles and thermoses, inevitably the water cooler gets emptied and needs to be refilled. Now, social protocol SHOULD dictate that if you empty the cooler, you should replace the cooler. The other, and more popular option, is to walk away and let someone else deal with it. There was a tipping point several months ago, when I happened to be in the kitchen washing a dish at the same time as a group of labourers were in the kitchen. One guy was filling his water bottle when I heard him say "the water jug is empty." When I turned around, I realized he had walked out of the kitchen, down the hall to the other water cooler to finish filling his water bottle, leaving the water cooler in the kitchen bone dry. I know this is such a small thing in the grand scheme of life, but honest to god, it makes me bat shit crazy!! (sidebar: who was the first one to look at bat guano and say "well that's crazy?") It makes me so crazy that I think I am now secretly called "water cooler nazi" behind my back. In all fairness they could call me that to my face because I know I have some serious issues with the water cooler.
The thing is its not just a water cooler. Well it is a water cooler, but its a metaphor. Its the sad state of a societal back slide that runs the gambit from texting in meetings, ignoring the facilitator to letting the door slam in someone's face (and we all know how I feel about that). I don't mean to harp people, because I believe that the human race is not totally a waste of time, and I believe in hope for our future. I just wish that we could all take a moment to reflect on the fact that we are not the only ones in the whole world. If you empty the coffee pot at work, make another pot, if you see someone struggling with a bunch of boxes etc, help them, if you can safely change lanes in traffic to allow someone to merge, do it. These are simple things that will not cost you anything but time, and will make this world we live in, a better place. We are all in this together, please don't loose sight of that and for the love of all things good and holy in this world, if you use up the last of the water in the water cooler jug, change the damned thing!!
Cheers,
Wednesday 16 January 2013
THIS IS NO PLACE FOR TIGHTY-WHITIES
The winter is upon us and I am a fair weather exerciser when it comes to outdoor activities such as bike riding and running. Once the days turned even the slightest bit cool and windy, I headed for the safety of the treadmill. I also decided, since I plan to do two try-a-tri this summer, adding onto my one try-a-tri of this past summer, that it would be key to keep up with the cycling.
Swimming is basically a lost cause, I can't do the commonly used butterfly stroke properly because my arms and legs start working against each other to the point where I am literally going nowhere and just thrashing around in a circle in the water. It would be akin to watching a fin-less seal flop about. I have invented a style of swim that is a cross between the doggy paddle and the breast stroke using the upper body style of breast stroke and the lower body style of the doggy paddle. It's not pretty, but it does the trick.
There is, however, hope for massive improvement in the running and cycling department. Last summer I completed the cycling portion of the triathlon in 36 minutes and the running portion in 24. My bike time surpassed my expectations, but my running time was a dismal disappointment. I am blaming the weather and lack of shade because, quite frankly, it's the only thing that gets me through.
So I've been running on a regular basis on the treadmill, which I know is not nearly as difficult as real life running, but I can already see some improvement. Just prior to Christmas I tried a spin class for the second time in my life. The first was in the spring before it was outdoor bike weather and it ended with me falling on my ass at the end of the class causing quite the spectacle. Needless to say I was apprehensive. The first spin class (second spin class really, but I don't count the embarrassing disaster, I just pretend it never happened) was better then I expected. It seems my cycling on an almost daily basis in the summer paid off. It was still very difficult and and I thought I might die, but I did it. Tonight was my second class, first opportunity I've had to go since before Christmas. Again, it was tough, but a really good challenge and very rewarding.
What is not rewarding is the gentlemen in the class who chooses to wear tight white bike shorts that basically look like jockey short underwear. He is clearly in very good shape and judging by his thigh muscles, he is a regular cyclist. Judging by what I saw at the stretching portion of the class tonight, he may also be Jewish. People, there is a reason why they use white t-shirts in a wet t-shirt contest. When white things get wet, i.e. sweat, they be come see-thru. Now I'm sure he's a very nice person, but really, I don't need to see your sweaty butt when I'm trying to focus on my spinning and not pass out. Somehow I ended up right behind this guy twice. Tonight I even deliberately chose a spot away from him, but then we had to all shift around because it was such a large class, and there he was, large and in charge. I genuinely don't want to bad mouth this guy, on the freakishly unlikely chance he follows my blog, and also because he does seem like a very nice person. I guess maybe I could befriend him and buy him some new bike shorts, perhaps black??
Anyway, I'm headed to a retirement party tomorrow with some old colleagues. I'm willing to bet there will be some antics to share afterwards. Until next time.
Cheers,
Swimming is basically a lost cause, I can't do the commonly used butterfly stroke properly because my arms and legs start working against each other to the point where I am literally going nowhere and just thrashing around in a circle in the water. It would be akin to watching a fin-less seal flop about. I have invented a style of swim that is a cross between the doggy paddle and the breast stroke using the upper body style of breast stroke and the lower body style of the doggy paddle. It's not pretty, but it does the trick.
There is, however, hope for massive improvement in the running and cycling department. Last summer I completed the cycling portion of the triathlon in 36 minutes and the running portion in 24. My bike time surpassed my expectations, but my running time was a dismal disappointment. I am blaming the weather and lack of shade because, quite frankly, it's the only thing that gets me through.
So I've been running on a regular basis on the treadmill, which I know is not nearly as difficult as real life running, but I can already see some improvement. Just prior to Christmas I tried a spin class for the second time in my life. The first was in the spring before it was outdoor bike weather and it ended with me falling on my ass at the end of the class causing quite the spectacle. Needless to say I was apprehensive. The first spin class (second spin class really, but I don't count the embarrassing disaster, I just pretend it never happened) was better then I expected. It seems my cycling on an almost daily basis in the summer paid off. It was still very difficult and and I thought I might die, but I did it. Tonight was my second class, first opportunity I've had to go since before Christmas. Again, it was tough, but a really good challenge and very rewarding.
What is not rewarding is the gentlemen in the class who chooses to wear tight white bike shorts that basically look like jockey short underwear. He is clearly in very good shape and judging by his thigh muscles, he is a regular cyclist. Judging by what I saw at the stretching portion of the class tonight, he may also be Jewish. People, there is a reason why they use white t-shirts in a wet t-shirt contest. When white things get wet, i.e. sweat, they be come see-thru. Now I'm sure he's a very nice person, but really, I don't need to see your sweaty butt when I'm trying to focus on my spinning and not pass out. Somehow I ended up right behind this guy twice. Tonight I even deliberately chose a spot away from him, but then we had to all shift around because it was such a large class, and there he was, large and in charge. I genuinely don't want to bad mouth this guy, on the freakishly unlikely chance he follows my blog, and also because he does seem like a very nice person. I guess maybe I could befriend him and buy him some new bike shorts, perhaps black??
Anyway, I'm headed to a retirement party tomorrow with some old colleagues. I'm willing to bet there will be some antics to share afterwards. Until next time.
Cheers,
Monday 14 January 2013
RANDOM MUSINGS
Is it me or does Machu Picchu not sound like something you would order at a international cuisine restaurant? "Yes I'll have the machu picchu please, easy on the picchu" or "can I get a side of lima beans with my machu picchu?"
Have you ever thought about what goes on a confetti factory? Is there just rows of people with hole punching machines sitting around punching paper all day? Seriously, think about it...
Why is it that cursive writing is considered to be such a skill when we all use regular old print on a day to day basis? If cursive writing is the end all be all of the written word, why didn't they use that for our keyboards??
What if the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about? (ok I stole that one from a Tylenol Nighttime commercial, but still it's a valid question).
If people can be disgruntled is anyone ever gruntled?
Just some food for thought...
Have you ever thought about what goes on a confetti factory? Is there just rows of people with hole punching machines sitting around punching paper all day? Seriously, think about it...
Why is it that cursive writing is considered to be such a skill when we all use regular old print on a day to day basis? If cursive writing is the end all be all of the written word, why didn't they use that for our keyboards??
What if the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about? (ok I stole that one from a Tylenol Nighttime commercial, but still it's a valid question).
If people can be disgruntled is anyone ever gruntled?
Just some food for thought...
Sunday 13 January 2013
EXCUSE ME.. I NEED SOME HELP, THIS VACUUM CLEANER DOESN'T SUCK
I think it would be very difficult to cheers with a martini glass, especially if the glasses were full. It's just an odd shape and the aim and timing required to make sure to clink that small rim does not seem like the kind of coordination one gets from drinking martinis. This is why I prefer to stick to wine. The glasses are round, giving an easy full face for toasting.
I am, as of late, experiencing some technical malfunctions. Eight or nine months ago I had to buy a new hair dryer after the one I'd had for a number of years finally bit the dust. Like so many of my small to medium appliance purchases, I bought the replacement dryer at Wal-mart. Sadly, post Christmas my new blow dryer, not even a year old, self destructed. It was annoying and inconvenient since this happened the morning of my first day back to work post Christmas break and I was more the half way done. Fortunately I keep a spare. Well not exactly, I have a small dryer I use for travel. It's not nearly as powerful or as good, but comparatively to not working at all, it was the best option. Now had I kept the receipt perhaps I could have done something since there was a 1 year warranty on the dryer. Unfortunately the receipt and warranty information were no where to be found so I replaced the dryer. It was $30, not really a huge investment.
Now, what was a rather large investment is the Dyson vacuum cleaner I bought just over five years ago, incidentally that is also the same length of time that the warranty is good for. A little back story if you will indulge me. For many years I have long fought the battle of the vacuum cleaner that did not suck. Oh sure, you'd use them for a year or maybe two if you were lucky, but inevitably they'd always stop sucking and start, well, sucking. It was frustrating, and I do not enjoy housework in any way, so any added frustration was just an excuse to avoid doing it at all. Then one day it all changed. A man of seemingly Swedish or Norwegian or some kind of Viking race decent, invented a vacuum that's sole claim was that it did not lose suction. That's a tall order, and it seemed too good to be true. But then people began to talk, and it seems the claims were not outlandish after all. One small issue, the cost of clean floors comes at a hefty price, upwards of $500. So I started to save and then one Christmas my mom gave me a gift certificate towards the Dyson. I got my Dyson, and it changed my life. It truly does have the most exceptional suction of all its vacuum predecessors. In fact it sucked so much that it lifted the area rug right off the floor, the lights in the entire house dim when it starts. Impressive. Or at least it was until just after the warranty expired. Now I have a $500 vacuum that barely sucks at all. So now what? This is where I'm at, I have no warranty and my floors are dirty. This weekend I picked up a pamphlet from Wal-mart containing a customer service number for Dyson. This is my only hope, but sadly they were closed for the weekend so my quest will continue into this week...
Well I hope you're weekend has been full of adventure and embarrassing memories to last a lifetime.
Cheers,
I am, as of late, experiencing some technical malfunctions. Eight or nine months ago I had to buy a new hair dryer after the one I'd had for a number of years finally bit the dust. Like so many of my small to medium appliance purchases, I bought the replacement dryer at Wal-mart. Sadly, post Christmas my new blow dryer, not even a year old, self destructed. It was annoying and inconvenient since this happened the morning of my first day back to work post Christmas break and I was more the half way done. Fortunately I keep a spare. Well not exactly, I have a small dryer I use for travel. It's not nearly as powerful or as good, but comparatively to not working at all, it was the best option. Now had I kept the receipt perhaps I could have done something since there was a 1 year warranty on the dryer. Unfortunately the receipt and warranty information were no where to be found so I replaced the dryer. It was $30, not really a huge investment.
Now, what was a rather large investment is the Dyson vacuum cleaner I bought just over five years ago, incidentally that is also the same length of time that the warranty is good for. A little back story if you will indulge me. For many years I have long fought the battle of the vacuum cleaner that did not suck. Oh sure, you'd use them for a year or maybe two if you were lucky, but inevitably they'd always stop sucking and start, well, sucking. It was frustrating, and I do not enjoy housework in any way, so any added frustration was just an excuse to avoid doing it at all. Then one day it all changed. A man of seemingly Swedish or Norwegian or some kind of Viking race decent, invented a vacuum that's sole claim was that it did not lose suction. That's a tall order, and it seemed too good to be true. But then people began to talk, and it seems the claims were not outlandish after all. One small issue, the cost of clean floors comes at a hefty price, upwards of $500. So I started to save and then one Christmas my mom gave me a gift certificate towards the Dyson. I got my Dyson, and it changed my life. It truly does have the most exceptional suction of all its vacuum predecessors. In fact it sucked so much that it lifted the area rug right off the floor, the lights in the entire house dim when it starts. Impressive. Or at least it was until just after the warranty expired. Now I have a $500 vacuum that barely sucks at all. So now what? This is where I'm at, I have no warranty and my floors are dirty. This weekend I picked up a pamphlet from Wal-mart containing a customer service number for Dyson. This is my only hope, but sadly they were closed for the weekend so my quest will continue into this week...
Well I hope you're weekend has been full of adventure and embarrassing memories to last a lifetime.
Cheers,
Friday 11 January 2013
SOMETIMES I SERIOUSLY WONDER WHAT IS GOING ON!
Some days, no matter how hard you try to keep an up beat positive outlook on the world, things just transpire to evict you out of your happy place.
Today at lunch I had a misadventure. My lunch only took a half an hour and I had another 30 minutes to kill. I decided to be proactive and take a trip to the grocery store for the last 30 minutes of lunch, (20 by the time I got there and finished rocking out to The Bare Naked Ladies "Brian Wilson" in the parking lot) saving myself a trip at the end of the day. I grabbed a basket and gathered the few items I needed, few enough that standing behind a cart full of groceries seemed unnecessary, but not few enough that I could hit the express lane. So I picked a lane with only one woman who had approximately the same amount of items as I had. Unfortunately for me she turned out to be trying out for the TV show Extreme Couponing. If I was casting that show I would have had to turn her down, because, believe it or not, she was doing it wrong. If you're going to use coupons for every single item you've placed on the grocery conveyor belt it is best to check to make sure the coupons are valid!! Finally she gets to the part where one typically pays for their groceries and then leaves, she somehow manages to scramble the debit machine causing it to require a restart. As if this isn't enough, after the debit machine has restarted and she is about to pay, she remembers her points card and that she has a $5 credit on it and she'd like the clerk to cancel it all so she can redeem her points. MOTHER F*&%ER!!!! Are you kidding me??? I will give you $5 dollars if you just take your tide and cat food and go home!!
But the madness doesn't end there friends, ohhhhhh nooooo. It's my turn now and somehow the chicken has no price tag on it so the meat boy must be summoned to do a price check. While I'm waiting for the meat boy to return, the weirdo behind me starts making the same joke over and over again "the chicken has no price, it must be free" and "I though it was free chicken day today," and he wouldn't stop until someone acknowledged him. His joke was not funny or clever. For god's sake if you were trying to be clever "free range chicken" would have been the way to go, it's right there!! Then after the poor clerk gives him a polite smile he begins to ask her why they designed the grocery conveyor belt the way they did, specifically why it narrows as it approaches the cashier. This girl looks like she is a high school student trying to earn some extra cash. On what planet would she possibly know why the grocery conveyor belt was designed the way that it was?? Thanks be to Vishnu the meat boy returned with my chicken, price tag and all and finally I could go.
That's pretty much where this story ends. It was a full 20 minutes of ridiculous three-ring-circus type action and I am still trying to determine if I'll be seeing myself on a candid camera show at some time in the future.
I guess that's all for today,
Cheers
Today at lunch I had a misadventure. My lunch only took a half an hour and I had another 30 minutes to kill. I decided to be proactive and take a trip to the grocery store for the last 30 minutes of lunch, (20 by the time I got there and finished rocking out to The Bare Naked Ladies "Brian Wilson" in the parking lot) saving myself a trip at the end of the day. I grabbed a basket and gathered the few items I needed, few enough that standing behind a cart full of groceries seemed unnecessary, but not few enough that I could hit the express lane. So I picked a lane with only one woman who had approximately the same amount of items as I had. Unfortunately for me she turned out to be trying out for the TV show Extreme Couponing. If I was casting that show I would have had to turn her down, because, believe it or not, she was doing it wrong. If you're going to use coupons for every single item you've placed on the grocery conveyor belt it is best to check to make sure the coupons are valid!! Finally she gets to the part where one typically pays for their groceries and then leaves, she somehow manages to scramble the debit machine causing it to require a restart. As if this isn't enough, after the debit machine has restarted and she is about to pay, she remembers her points card and that she has a $5 credit on it and she'd like the clerk to cancel it all so she can redeem her points. MOTHER F*&%ER!!!! Are you kidding me??? I will give you $5 dollars if you just take your tide and cat food and go home!!
But the madness doesn't end there friends, ohhhhhh nooooo. It's my turn now and somehow the chicken has no price tag on it so the meat boy must be summoned to do a price check. While I'm waiting for the meat boy to return, the weirdo behind me starts making the same joke over and over again "the chicken has no price, it must be free" and "I though it was free chicken day today," and he wouldn't stop until someone acknowledged him. His joke was not funny or clever. For god's sake if you were trying to be clever "free range chicken" would have been the way to go, it's right there!! Then after the poor clerk gives him a polite smile he begins to ask her why they designed the grocery conveyor belt the way they did, specifically why it narrows as it approaches the cashier. This girl looks like she is a high school student trying to earn some extra cash. On what planet would she possibly know why the grocery conveyor belt was designed the way that it was?? Thanks be to Vishnu the meat boy returned with my chicken, price tag and all and finally I could go.
That's pretty much where this story ends. It was a full 20 minutes of ridiculous three-ring-circus type action and I am still trying to determine if I'll be seeing myself on a candid camera show at some time in the future.
I guess that's all for today,
Cheers
Thursday 10 January 2013
WHAT'S MY TOPIC TODAY
Well it's January 10th, ten whole days in to 2013 and what can I tell you about this new year that is upon me?
Frankly very little. Sadly I rang in the new year with the influenza virus that everyone has been spreading around. I know it is the season for giving, but somethings are best left unshared. I am hopeful that my time spent hugging the toilet is not going to be indicative of the rest of the year. I am determine to stay positive in the face of this adversity. I am operating under the hope that starting this year off with an illness means that I have gotten all future 2013 viruses out of my system.
In other news, I took a bold step, quite literally, by getting on the scale for the first time post Christmas. Now there is a back story here that can be traced back to the beginning of November. Let's take a walk back in time to the beginning of November 2012. I thought if I could drop 5lbs before the holiday food season was upon me that I would have a 5lb buffer, and while I cam close to my goal, I didn't quite get there, missed it by 1lb. Nevertheless, I was pleased with these results and by the middle of December I decided my new Christmas weight goal would be to maintain my weight over Christmas and not worry about loosing. A modest and seemingly reasonable goal, which unfortunately lead me down a slippery slope. As the festive season grew nearer and with each passing party I could feel my "just stay even" plan going out the window. "It's okay" I told myself, "maybe we can have a 2lb range." And then the cookies happened. One bite of chocolate chunk cookies, shortbreads, and caramel apple cheesecake bites and I was done for. I turned into the hulk on a feeding frenzy. My goal of "just stay the same" went to "just a couple pounds" went to "I'll deal with it in the new year" and finally ended up with "you only live once, just eat it all!" So here we are, present day, 2013, and I am happy to announce, that while I did not stick to "staying the same" I did manage to eke out the 2lb rule, although it did take a 3 day cleanse to get me back there and also the flu probably helped.
The point is, we all make outlandish plans to behave at Christmas and even more outlandish plans to turn into lean mean fitness machines in the New Year. The reality is, it's Christmas, you're going to gain weight and you can't deprive yourself or feel guilty. I think if you can land somewhere between "just a few guilt free pounds" and "I'll deal with it in the New Year" you'll be fine. Also, you definitely can get it back under control in the New Year as long as you leave those Christmas eating habits behind. Also, don't jump into a fitness routine that's really not for you. Ease into it and find something you like to do or you'll hurt yourself and/or hate it and give up. Trust me, I know. One more thing, i don't endorse the flu as a form of weight control.
Just another little note. I know it's been forever since I blogged and I do apologize for such an absence. I won't promise that I'll be blogging every day and I can't promise there won't be prolonged periods of bloglessness again, but I will do my best to keep you all up to date on my day to day progress of life in 2013. It's a scary new place, but if we stick together we'll get through it.
Cheers,
Frankly very little. Sadly I rang in the new year with the influenza virus that everyone has been spreading around. I know it is the season for giving, but somethings are best left unshared. I am hopeful that my time spent hugging the toilet is not going to be indicative of the rest of the year. I am determine to stay positive in the face of this adversity. I am operating under the hope that starting this year off with an illness means that I have gotten all future 2013 viruses out of my system.
In other news, I took a bold step, quite literally, by getting on the scale for the first time post Christmas. Now there is a back story here that can be traced back to the beginning of November. Let's take a walk back in time to the beginning of November 2012. I thought if I could drop 5lbs before the holiday food season was upon me that I would have a 5lb buffer, and while I cam close to my goal, I didn't quite get there, missed it by 1lb. Nevertheless, I was pleased with these results and by the middle of December I decided my new Christmas weight goal would be to maintain my weight over Christmas and not worry about loosing. A modest and seemingly reasonable goal, which unfortunately lead me down a slippery slope. As the festive season grew nearer and with each passing party I could feel my "just stay even" plan going out the window. "It's okay" I told myself, "maybe we can have a 2lb range." And then the cookies happened. One bite of chocolate chunk cookies, shortbreads, and caramel apple cheesecake bites and I was done for. I turned into the hulk on a feeding frenzy. My goal of "just stay the same" went to "just a couple pounds" went to "I'll deal with it in the new year" and finally ended up with "you only live once, just eat it all!" So here we are, present day, 2013, and I am happy to announce, that while I did not stick to "staying the same" I did manage to eke out the 2lb rule, although it did take a 3 day cleanse to get me back there and also the flu probably helped.
The point is, we all make outlandish plans to behave at Christmas and even more outlandish plans to turn into lean mean fitness machines in the New Year. The reality is, it's Christmas, you're going to gain weight and you can't deprive yourself or feel guilty. I think if you can land somewhere between "just a few guilt free pounds" and "I'll deal with it in the New Year" you'll be fine. Also, you definitely can get it back under control in the New Year as long as you leave those Christmas eating habits behind. Also, don't jump into a fitness routine that's really not for you. Ease into it and find something you like to do or you'll hurt yourself and/or hate it and give up. Trust me, I know. One more thing, i don't endorse the flu as a form of weight control.
Just another little note. I know it's been forever since I blogged and I do apologize for such an absence. I won't promise that I'll be blogging every day and I can't promise there won't be prolonged periods of bloglessness again, but I will do my best to keep you all up to date on my day to day progress of life in 2013. It's a scary new place, but if we stick together we'll get through it.
Cheers,
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