a moment in the Sun

beginnings...endings...keeping in touch

2008-04-15T18:16:00.002-07:00

I recently read a friend's blog and it would appear that she has updated her blog roll features to include the last time the blog was updated and even snippets of the post.
I knew it had been a while but I was ashamed to see there in the bold writing under my name... 5 months.

Well, it really has been that long. So long that other friends have even removed me from their blog rolls. Touche.

Of course much has changed. I have changed jobs yet again but I hope to have this one for a while. And - it has finally happened. I've started a family. You can see the adorable baby pics on facebook here.

Muffin and I continue to renovate our home, my in-laws (per se) drive me a bit nuts and we try to find time to balance work and pleasure. While so much changes - so much stays the same.

I have contemplated deleting this blog as I just don't seem to have much of an interest in the upkeep of it or the dedication to spend more spare time on a computer than I must but even though I am an infrequent poster there is so much time already spent in this medium and events recorded through the last few years.

So what say you gentle reader? Shall I stay or shall I go?

Rick and I

2007-10-30T20:21:00.000-07:00

Today was a long day. Not in the least bit made better by an enthusiastic photo that I'm sure I will treasure in the future - just not today.

Last Wednesday my office was notified by the CBC that Rick Mercer would be coming to campus to film an episode (airing on Nov 6).

Last Thursday I became the coordinator of the parking required for his team as they went about their various filming activites on campus, the lunch and booking a suitable lunch room and finding a fine arts class for Rick to pose for while students sketched, painted or scuplted their celebrity model.

I discovered only 2 suitable art classes, one of which the teacher would be in Montreal for a showing of his work (large scale installations of testicles) and the other...had an incorrect home phone number on 411.com. Fortunately I received a new phone book on Friday and had the bright idea to look through a printed (!) book for his home listing and I was able to confirm a class. Whew.

Onto parking and onto lunch.

Now - You might be asking why I am going to such lengths to explain about the detailed logistics I encountered and you might be asking why wasn't there a secretary able to do this booking? Good question I think and one too which I do not have an answer. I have recently changed departments (a story yet to be told) and even in my old department where i was at the bottom of the org structure I was able to delegate filing and room booking. Anyhow - it was my first source of frustration.

Recently CUPE had given notice of possibliity of job action. So getting catering from on campus services was chancy at best. I opted for Subway - it was across the road and I could pick up. Happily I discovered they also delivered for no charge.

And now to today.
Today with the CUPE action looming large and staff rushing every which way to prepare the campus.

I couldn't help but think back to my old department again - where I had been the one with the soft skills, the writer, the one with technical skills, the blogger, the webdesigner... and now here to my new department where everyone was a better writer due to their increased experince. At least three people had more, better and faster technical expertise.

So I was left alone.

Well, I fixed a small parking dilemna and wrote a letter. But in the midst of such crisis no one had interest any longer in the work I had been hired to do and with no one to provide me with information, I mostly browsed for updated media information for my own interest and in order to stay plugged into the work my collegues carried out.

I wallowed in selfishness - as I do now. Second hand reports began to arrive that CBC with Rick Mercer's team had changed the schedule dramatically. They had their own ideas and their own plan. Lunch might not be needed.

At 11:30am I walked out of the chaos that was my office, specifically enlisting the graphic designer to come have lunch with me in the event that no one else did.

No one else did.

I sat alone in a board room overlooking the gym with 2 dozen cookies, 15 bottles of juice and water, 2 platters of Subs and individual containers of all the fixings.

The graphic designer came, as promised. We sat and bitched and talked.

And then the paniced phone call came. "Please bring everything across campus (at lunch time) to the downstairs floor of the student building (thats never crowded at lunch time) - oh, and please hurry.."

So I conveyed the paniced message to the graphic designer and we hurriedly packed the food - by no means a fast process considering the individual containers and individual lids and three boxes to pack everything into. Except that we didn't have three people to carry three full boxes.

I re-dialed the caller and requested assistance be sent to meet me and my harried help. None was forthcoming, although the caller was quick to reiterate the "please hurry" message.

So we managed. We had to rest as the boxes were large and awkward and quite heavy and I almost tumbled down an escalator before finally meeting up with the rest of the team who was gathered and chattering among themselves. Granted they were quick to include us in their chattering, but with full loads rapidly gaining weight in our arms and a staffer trying to tactfully gain our attention I was in no mood for chatter and quickly followed the relieved staffer.

And it was there that I met him.

Rick Mercer, looming larger than life in all his 5'8" glory.

Truth be told he was absorbed in work and busily writing for filming which was to commence in the next hour. He grabbed 2 subs and popped the top on a water bottle which he never took more than a sip from.

As he completed his writing and began to gather his crew for transport to the next site, my collegue spoke up. "Would you take a picture with KK?"

Rick looked down the long table to our end, "Sure. Who's KK?"

The photographer ushered us into a spare office and Rick courteously shook my hand. Others from the office eagerly filed in after me to take similar shots (although mostly they kept their mouths closed).

But, voila! My photo. How photogenic am I...?

I'm thinking of listing the barely sipped from water bottle on ebay - any takers?

The House Saga continues

2007-07-24T08:06:00.000-07:00

Everytime I put one of these picture things together I always like to include the first photos - you may be getting sick of them by now - but I can see just how much we've done and its very encouraging.

We are finally starting to see results. Rooms that are finally getting finished. We have moved into our bedroom upstairs (only to move out again due to heat) and we moved the TV upstairs (only to watch DVD's on our latops in the basement due to heat) and we have begun slowly organizing the bathrooms and optimization of storage. At the least it counter balances the chaos that is our kitchen.

Next weekend we will be painting the downstairs bedrooms (the make-shift Master we just moved out of .. and then back into) in preparation of our tennant moving in. Baseboard work will continue and countertops should be arriving - Huzzah!

2007-07-09T15:04:00.000-07:00

Warnings

City of Saskatoon3:44 PM CST Monday 9 July 2007

Tornado warning for City of Saskatoon issued At 3:40 PM funnel clouds have been reported northwest of Saskatoon with Doppler radar showing rotation in thunderstorms 16 kms northwest of the city at this time. A brief tornado touchdown is possible with this thunderstorm although it is expected to be brief. This thunderstorm is moving southeastward at 40 km/h.

Yikes!

Reno updates - my beautiful bathrooms

2007-06-22T21:45:00.000-07:00

Shall we have more before and after?

I am absolutely loving the process of designing these spaces. I choose all my own colours and thats the part I like the most. And seeing it finished and come together. I chose that. I made it mine. My house. Love it!

Of course I didn't build it - although I'm learning all sorts of useful things. The Muffin has taken to stopping mid-task to give me a lesson on electrical or carpentry so I can be an empowered female and know how to do things. I think I'd rather the tasks got done and we'll worry about empowerment later. Anyhow (the first pic is the before):

Main Bathroom

Master Bedroom Ensuite

Master Bedroom Closet

(3/4 mine ;) ) Note the fabulous Roman Blind (JC Penny) and light fixture that Muffin installed himself - there is also a light inside the closet, the terribly inefficient drawers in the wall were drywalled over and we replaced the dated brown doors with opaque white curtains for a softer look. Of course right now the curtains are pulled so you can see the double rods. It makes a huge difference!

The spare/craft/drawing room.

The room is all white with just the one storage wall in an accent colour. Accesorizing hasn't been completed so thats all to be shown in this room for now. And another fabulous light fixture by the Muffin.

And after all that hard work I went with a girlfriend for my very first pedicure. Drinking wine at 11am in a posh salon with good company while someone rubs my feet is a pretty good deal. Check out my fabulous french toes!

Arrival

2007-06-08T07:41:00.000-07:00

The Muffin drops me off at work in his long silver Cadillac Deville. Today I ran into a co-worker on the steps. I hastily removed the sunglasses from my hair.

"You look like Miss America getting out of the car." He continues with a flirty head toss and elevated voice pitch, "'I'm here, I hope they're ready for me.'"

In the midst of chaos

2007-05-09T19:37:00.000-07:00

I am living in a construction zone.

The entire top floor of the house is in various stages of construction and deconstruction, stages of paint and prep. Everything is packed and stored and jammed into the basement until we can complete the upper floor. So I drink wine in a waterglass with work gloves as I prime and sand.

And so for your vewing pleasure - a few compare and contrast, before and ... now.

(The little picture is at time of purchase, just in case you are confused. As I know you are.)

THE MAIN BATHROOM

THE LIVING ROOM / DINING ROOM

THE MASTER BEDROOM

(This is acutally the colour I picked. It's called Raging Sea. It's like a steel blue grey. I can never decide if it's grey or blue. I love it.)

DOWNSTAIRS BEDROOM

KELLY IS a homeowner!!!

2007-03-27T09:25:00.000-07:00

I have much news.

First - the title of this post is, as well as news, a reference to facebook. One friend is refusing to join because she was told "Facebook stole my soul" from another friend. But other than her it appears that everyone else is on it. And of all the groups networking things, Ringo, Hi5, Myspace, that I constantly receive invitations for. Facebook is one I am finding entertaining, easy to use and easy to find and interact with others on.

Second - I am a homeowner!! As of April 15 the Muffin and I will be moving into our very own home.

The story of how this came about in light of the booming real estate market began on the last post. The dreaded tennent finally got evicted - we observed the moving van at 7pm on the last allowable day of occupancy.

The realtor called the next to say, "Well she's out, but I don't want to show you the house."

The tennent and her 2 dogs and cat had left a mess. Namely dog poo on the floor, a cat litter box that had never been cleaned, garbage 2 feet deep in the backyard, not to mention more dog poo. She broke the window on the front door and put a hole in the living room wall, probably with the couch, before exiting.

The seller changed the locks and hired professional cleaners so I never had to see it in that state. The cleaners did a fabulous job I must say, there is not even lingering scents to disturb me.

The home inspection was passed last week: 30 yr old furnace, 30 yr old shingles but everything is in fabulous condition and often better than expected.

The tennent still left her mark though by painting. Bubble gum pink, creamsicle orange, purple with pink sponge paint. These are definately the 'before' pics.

And finally, on top of all that - I'm going to the Junos!!!

Yay!! It's good to have a Muffin with connections. But what will I wear?

Housing update

2007-02-26T07:16:00.000-08:00

The Muffin and I may have bought a house over the phone without even seeing it, without even seeing pictures of it.

OK, OK. It's not that bad.

It's just that the housing market is crazy. Absolutely crazy. Who would think that real estate in Saskatoon could be so popular?

We put an offer in on another house after loosing the little brown one in the last post. This one was also on the market for 24hrs and we came straight off the highway from Calgary to see it in time to make an offer. Ours was the back-up offer ... second again. Damnit!

Then we looked at another house that the Muffin hated on sight (he has an aversion to vinyl) and the woman, moving ASAP due to a nasty divorce apparently had accepted a phone offer for list price and was calling him back at 6pm to accept it. We discovered all this at our 5:30pm showing of the home and ended up standing outside at 5:50 arguing about wether to go in and offer over list because there was absolutely nothing available in this neighbourhood, in this market anymore.

Prices went up 8% just in January! And houses are selling consistently for at least $7000 over list. Part of this is due to a correction in the marketplace simply because housing here and in Regina has been undervalued for so long. Part of it is due to people returning from Calgary where the land of plenty has turned out to be plenty expensive - plus the governement is doing everything it's power to entice them back, thanks to a brillant punctuation campaign - Saskatchewan! - and after selling a home in Calgary people are able to buy a brand new 2000 sq ft home and a rental property mortgage free.

It's just not fair I tell you.

So while complaining to a realtor who had shown us another home he mentioned one that was coming up. Again only for a 24 hour listing and 4 hrs of showing times. We promptly made an appointment only to be informed the next day that the seller was pulling the listing due to a nasty tennent who refused to allow people into the house because she and her many pets and guests had wrecked it. The seller intended to relist in April after a cosmetic fix.

Not interested in cosmetic fixes and wanting to beat out the rabid competition Muffin and I made an offer. And it was accepted! We aren't obliged to anything given that we haven't even seen the home yet but the seller is now prevented from selling it away from under us. Pressure is off and I'm so relieved! Four bedroom, 2.5 bathroom, single detached garage.

But I'm dreading what the horrid renter has done to the interior. Cross your fingers!

No home of my own

2007-02-08T10:35:00.000-08:00

Muffin and I are house hunting and its a frustrating process. We are deciding on location and size and layout ... looking and looking and eternally looking.

I'm tired of looking. You're never going to get perfect especially in your price range so just except it and pick one.

Besides, it's dog eat dog out there.

A condo in the same builidng Muffin and I looked at during the summer is alrady up $20 000. That's four months. Prices are climbing so it seems to be buy now or wait ten years til the market settles again. They say Saskatoon will be the next Calgary - and at the moment there are certainly enough Albertans moving back. They're the ones taking all the houses.

If you own a house in Calgary you can sell it, move here; buy your house outright and a couple rental properties all without a mortgage.

Slightly sucks for me. I just want a little bungalow (no slanty ceilings) in a good neighbourhood that isn't going to fall down in a year. Oh and a garage. Now is that too much to ask?

So.

We've been preapproved for a mortgage. We found a house we liked, a house we agreed on. We put an offer on it.

It was listed 'for sale by owner' for only 24hrs. There was at least five offers put on it. We were second.

The Call

2007-01-23T07:41:00.000-08:00

Well weirdly enough after just skimming over Karina's warning about strange phone numbers I come home to a new message and two dropped calls. The message is silent for a long moment before a hyper, tinny voice enthuses:

Hi! This is Jennifer - I'd like to talk to
you about a Bahamas Cruise, give me a call at 1-877 - ...-.... and don't forget
to ask for Jennifer!

The numbers at home, but I'll post it later. Looks like a scam though, dontcha think?

Show and Tell

2007-01-19T11:17:00.000-08:00

Well now that Karina, after a long drawn out minute by minute account of her holidays that is still not finished yet (just kidding, we love her quirky thoughts and oft updated blog), has finally revealed her Christmas present, I said I would reveal what was in my box.

But I must say I feel slightly deceived. I spontaneously posted the photo of the box because I thought Karina's was the same box albeit a different brand. But now that I know what was in her box it is clear that they are not the same and mine is decidedly smaller.

I had mixed feelings about my gift and wasn't sure if I was going to even share knowledge of said gift on this blog because of the perceptions of people and friends - but when Karina posted her pic I thought there would be someone to share with. Seeing as her first anniversary was approaching, it seemed a valid possibility.

But it is not to be. So i will draw out my own news for as long as possible.

The Muffin and I had returned from Mexico (more pics to come - really) on Christmas Eve. We spoke to our parents and opened one present as per my tradition (Muffin doesn't really have Christmas traditions - he's been pretty transient on the holidays until the last couple years when he spends them with me now).

In the morning we opened the rest of the gifts. I gave the Muffin a badminton racket. It's what he really wanted and who knew that they could be so high tech? But as it was what he wanted and wrapping it would have created a very distinctive shape ... I made him a treasure hunt. The box under the tree was very small and I put a loonie in it to produce a tempting rattle. It was driving him crazy.

So we saved our gifts for each other until last. There was three left for me. The first was a CD, with 'our' song on it.

Now about the song: this quest has taken us forever. We talk about it, we forget, we hear a song, we forget etc. etc. I would raise the subject that maybe we should just pick one and he would select 'good' songs I had never heard of (not being a feverant music person). But one evening, lying contentedly cuddled on the futon after an afternoon of canoodling, I woke from a half sleep to say, "this should be our song". Muffin lazily agreed that he really liked it and so it has been. Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

So he gave me the CD. And I thought it was ever so sweet and put the disc on turning it to our song immediately. And as our song played he gave me the box.

Now about the box: Muffin has given me a box of this size before, for grad, and I didn't recognize it then. Somehow I thought that ring boxes were smaller. So I opened it casually, carelessly until I got to the box itself - those distinctive velvet covered hinged boxes that are unmistakable. Then I freaked out, had a minor heartattack, the Muffin shrugged and told me to open it and it was a lovely pair of white gold and diamond hoops. Relief. So this time when I received a box of the same size I didn't think anything of it. After all he'd given me one before.

But this time it was a ring.

A 10K white gold .05 carat diamond promise ring.

It's a WHITEOUT

2007-01-10T13:22:00.000-08:00

I'm in a Blizzard!!!

Saskatoon Police Service is advising businesses that are sending employees home for the day to consider having employees not all leave at the same time. All downtown streets are experiencing near gridlock conditions. The Circle Drive Bridge is closed between Millar Avenue and College Drive due to a number of incapacitated vehicles. Citizens are advised to stay off the streets if at all possible. Pedestrians should be aware that motorists have limited visibility and may not be able to see them as they attempt to cross streets.

Due to the blizzard in and around Saskatoon, all remaining daytime and evening classes for Wednesday, January 10 have been cancelled. In addition, the Physical Activities Complex, its associated facilities and programs as well as the U of S Library have been closed.
There is no exit from the University of Saskatchewan campus via either East Road or Perimeter Road.

And that means I got sent home! So while a 70km wind rages and at least 20cm of snow blows into chest high drifts I'm tucked up at home with a martini and eating Muffin made chili. Mmm Mmm.
I'm not really looking forward to tomorrow though. Good thing the snow plows decided to come off-strike.

You can't even see across the street....

24 going on 80

2007-01-08T07:08:00.000-08:00

Like all those joining the gym due to rash New Years resolutions the Muffin and I have joined the Saskatoon Riverside Raquet Club.

If this sounds elitiest, it is. Roy Romano, the former Premier of Saskatchewan was there the first day we went, with his little yappy ball of fur dog.

So now we play badminton in winter and tennis in summer. And now my muscles are sorely abused and I feel 80 yrs old. It's sad I know. I'm going Wednesday to get lessons.

The good news is that the Muffin, who has played tennis, squash and all kinds of games (who knew I'd end up with a jock - so ironic) got killed in the singles leagues. His poor bruised ego rests firmly on the bottom rung of the ladder.

In other news - I just showed my boss how to find out the weather on the phone ... we have a very special phone. I beleive I mentioned it before when I got this job, but it can read my email just as my email can get phone messages. And in lieu of a window I have my phone to tell me when it is snowing or raining and how cold it is. Pressure, visibility, wind chill ... its pretty cool huh?

And not to be outdone by Karina - my Christmas present came in this box. But we'll see what's in hers before I show you mine.

Mayan Rivieria returned

2006-12-27T08:35:00.000-08:00

Hola! I have returned from the sunny, humid beaches of Cancun Mexico and 7 days of sun, sand and ... fun with the Muffin.

It was the first time that he has gone to an all inclusive. It's the first time I've been to Mexico or on a hot holiday for that matter.

Our hotel was beautiful but it was such an enormous complex, somthing like 4000 rooms. And I'm not really one for crowds. The eating and the drinking was excessive. B the time we got home (Christmas Eve) I didn't even want to eat anything. Decent coffee for sure, but food? No thanks.

We ate traditional tacos and grilled lobster as well as Japanese and Brazillian cuisine.
Baileys first thing in the morning, Strawberry Daquiris and Pina Coladas on the beach, Sex on the Beach, Cabanas and Miami Vice in the evening and beer to fill in the gaps with a few shots for variety. My favorite shot was one with Melon liquere and for most of the trip I thought it was a Spanish name .. chateux grass or something of the like. On the last day I discovered it was an English name - Shit on the grass... suddenly it wasn't so appealing.

Below is the beach with the grass huts for shade and lounging that littered the beach by the hundreds. Also in the center there is a ruin - a Mayan house - that sat on a rock in the gulf that our resort fronted.

Below is the pool with swim up bar that was steps away from our room. During the day this was the busiest pool (due to the pool-side deep-fried snack bar that was available all day - a hit with kids and Americans) so we tended to avoid it.

I'm getting bored of this blog, perhaps you noticed from the lack of posts. Or maybe its just that my life even bores me. But I'll try to post more pics for my faithful readers (I think you're out there...)

Stay tuned. But don't hold your breath.

Football Weather

2006-11-26T09:35:00.000-08:00

There's a foot of snow on the ground, a layer of ice beneath. There are more predictions for more snow. It's minus 21C and the wind is cutting straight down from the arctic. What a perfect day .... for a football game?

Vanier Cup - the national university football finals - were held in Saskatoon and the U of S was in! So we bundled up in three layers of gear, slipped 'hotshots' into every available boot, glove and pocket, prepared a survival pack of blankets, theromos of coffee and hot chocolate with a flask discreetly tucked away.

I must admit - I am not a football fan but it was very exciting. The sun was shining, with the windchill it 'felt like' -36 (this is an acutal scientific measurement used by weather channels - I didn't make it up myself) but with 12000 people in the stands jammed in shoulder-to-shoulder, there was no room for chilling wind to creep through. Torches were lit on the field and the players rushed in, the cheerleaders bounced, a choir swept in in long velvet robes and four jet did a fly-over in formation.

We had great seats in the grand stands, right on the 50-yard line. The leader of the Official Opposition Brad Wall sat right in front of us with his wife Tami. In front of him sat U of S President Peter McKinnon with my collegues, Manager of Business Opportunites, VP Finance and resources and the University Architect. They even recognized me in my eskimo gear.

But from the very beginning Saskatchewan was behind.

I made it until half time until cold and hunger drove me to whining in the Muffin's ear. Fortunately his toes were numb too so we headed for the car and spent the third quarter there unthawing.

Returning for the big finish (and a hamburger) the Huskies failed to come through but the Laval radio announcer who sat in the box directly above and behind us was so excited he had his window open and was leaning all the way out yelling excitedly in french. The fans weren't impressed and some yelled back - it wasn't complimentary.

But the Rouge et d'Or prevailed and the fireworks went off for them nonetheless. We were already exciting the parkade by the time they finished.

Princess Mary Kay - a rerun

2006-11-20T09:22:00.000-08:00

Dear Jstudents,

Our own Kelly almost quit the journalism program last night to become a Mary Kay consultant. After only 15 minuites as a "guest" at a Mary Kay meeting..or shall I say recruitment (cult) session, Kelly was convinced she was going to make a million and be driving in her Pink Cadillac by the end of the month. Surrounded by ladies in bleach blond hair and painted faces she was sold on the lifestyles of the self-proclaimed rich and not so famous. Fortunately her good friends Robyn and Sarah, sporting the hottest colors in pink fuscia nail polish and fire engine red lipstick, were there to convince her otherwise.

It was a close one guys...we almost lost Kelly to Faken' bake, pearly pink lip stick and black shiny pumps... in a pink cadillac!!!

This letter was posted to the class list serve during my first year of University Journalism, teachers and students alike made a mockery of my dreams. And after that humilating foray into direct selling - I am still getting sucked in. Only now I don't have faithful friends to convince me otherwise and I am joining the ranks of the Fifth Avenue Collection. Maybe I am getting sucked in or maybe I have a talent for selling. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for accessories.

The Muffin is excited though as well - he's going to be my accountant. And as we wade through sales taxes, business accounts and income tax write-offs it seems that as silly as this business is, it's still serious business. But never fear, as of Jan 1, I will be a genuine sales consultant / Jeweller - bringing the goods to a living room near you!

I was meant to Model

2006-11-01T07:34:00.000-08:00

Yes, this is not my idea (it's Karina's). Yes, I used my grad photo. Yes, I got Katherine Heigl, just as Karina did. No, I don't know who Missi Pyle is.

But I used another photo (yeah I was smiling in that one too - hey I'm at work I have limited options here) and I got Missi again.

I got Kylie instead of Dani and I got Petra Nemcova - I knew I was meant to be a model, I look just like her (especially our matching abs)!

Guys and their Ginch

2006-10-30T08:00:00.000-08:00

"I look like a superhero in my new underwear!" The Muffin says happily over the phone this morning. "There's a stripe down the sides and they are really tight."

Well gee. It only took an hour to pick them out.
What is it with guys and their ginch?

I followed the Muffin around the single Men's Undergarment Aisle in Wal-Mart for an hour yesterday. He needed long underwear so that he wouldn't freeze. He also needs to replace some of his old shorts.

The thing I don't understand about this is that even once he gets new ones, the old ones keep getting worn. The old ones with no elastic and holes in the seams and a waistband that is separated from the rest.

I delicately suggest that they may be on their last legs, namely by grabbing them and running madly around the house while he attempts to catch me because, "They're still good for tennis!!!" They might even be lucky.

Ha. There will definitely be no having of luck in those things, not from me anyhow.

So we pick up the long underwear and discuss some new undies before the Muffin declares, "No, no. They just don't have the right kind. I need designer undies touching my bum."

"OK, but we're here and they're here. And it might be months before you go shopping again. Can't you just try one pair?!?"

So. Around the aisle we go again, discussing the merits of boxers versus briefs versus boxer briefs or trunk briefs (and you thought women's underwear was complicated).

"I had a pair of these once..."

"So get them."

"But they were different. They didn't have an exposed waistband and the legs were shorter."

"So try that kind."

"They were the best underwear ever. No, these aren't the same."

I finally talk him into a pair: dri-fit on the sides (the stripes) that appeals to his woodsman personality (he thinks he's a wilderness guy, even though he's only going to be wearing suits for the next 8 months).

And now he's a superhero. Next thing I'm going to have G.I. Joe sheets.

A Sweater Story

2006-10-19T08:50:00.000-07:00

Last night the Muffin's parents stayed with us. They left this morning to go to Arizona until April. His Mother brought with her a box full of her clothes - for me.

She got it into her head that this was a good idea because while visiting her once, one of the Muffin's cousin gave me and her and her daughter some of her cast-off clothes (hey, she works at Rikki's once a week just for the discount, her entire bedroom is her closet and most of the stuff was worn once if at all). This was a fun event and I got some new blouses for work. Good deal all around.

So now Muffin's Mom thinks it’s equally fun to give me her over-sized, large print, shoulder-pad 80’s cast-offs.

Now really, I’m not making fun because it’s very sweet of her to think of me. But really, we just don’t have the same taste and she has been keeping this stuff for the last 20 years in the back of her closet because she doesn’t wear it.

So last night she asked me about the latest batch – do you like it?

I was relieved to say that YES! There was this one sweater that was (surprisingly) super nice! I took it to work! I wear it three times! Great!

And really, it was surprising. After the plaid wool sweaters with shoulder-pads and matching knee length coat that made me look like a clown, here was this nice, well fitting beige sweater with ribbing on the bottom and little button detail shoulder tabs that made it more modern. It probably wasn't something I would buy myself, but it was wearable. SO I was very happy to be able to genuinely say YES, I liked something…..

“Do you mean the beige sweater?” Muffin's mother asks. “Because that’s your Mom’s.”

(She left it at Muffin's parents house while visiting).

Ooops.

Thanks for the sweater Mom!

A Fashion Show for Mom

2006-10-12T20:35:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows that I have a new elitist job that I never blog about, but I do beleive that I have mentioned I have new power heels and corporate outfits. My mother has repeatedly asked about my new attire, and so here it is by popular demand.

I went on a shopping spree in Calgary the day after my interveiw - perhaps I was confidant, perhaps I just needed outfits for more interviews - and beleive it or not, I bought $3 pants. Unfortunately they aren't in the pics (they're beige and kinda summery) but pay close attention to the shoes - the black shoes - with 4 inch heels and at $50 they were the most expensive item that day. Of course I've done some additional shopping since then and not on so strict a budget...

Et voila! Moi -the model of course! And props to the Muffin who photographed so perfect a model....

Bridge City

2006-10-11T18:52:00.000-07:00

2006 is Saskatchewan's Centennial Year. Alberta's too. And as the end of sumer drew to a close Saskatoon said farewell with a bang.

This year was the first annual Broadway Bridge Party in which the City of Bridges closed two of its seven bridges to accomodate celebrations.

Fireworks on one bridge. Spectors, vendors and buskers on another. Ukrainian Day in the Park had been held earlier in the afternoon so by sun down everyone had a good shine on - this is Sask after all.

So we sat on the riverbank and watched the candlelit, bio-degradeble lanterns made by elementary school children float down the river herded by kayaks and grandly shepherded by three tall candelit angels. Then followed 18 minutes and $2.6 thousand in fireworks. It was spectacular.

And so summer turns to fall and the leaves turn yellow and scatter. It's so sunny and cheerful with the yellow everywhere. Just yesterday I say on a patio after work and drank wine. This morning I bundled into my knee length cashmere jacket. With a hat. And gloves.

The sun is deceiving.

Postcards of a Person

2006-10-04T19:48:00.000-07:00

I think you can tell a lot about a person by what they write in a postcard.

Well perhaps not about them - the fact that they are writing a postcard to you at all says volumes about the relationship. Family, relative obligation, friend...

But what a person chooses to write in that tiny limited space speaks of personality and mood.

Some are crammed to the edge with teeny tiny writing and little bits of gossip, others write up and around and sideways about their own travels while still others scrawl a single 'wish you were here' with the white space flowing around it.

What is your postcard saying about you?

Lady of Leisure no longer

2006-09-14T18:21:00.000-07:00

Yes it's true. I have a job. I know. My sister would be shocked.

"How long has it been since you worked??" she sqauwked into the phone. "I've never gone that long without working in my life!!"

She's dramatic. To say the least. And working in England to support the love of her life for 5£ /hr. Little does she know that I am now employed. By the University. I have a salary. And more vacation than the Muffin (and he's in a cushy gov't job).

Operations Assistant in Corporate Administration at the University of Saskatchewan.

Thats right. I have my own office and a phone that can read my email and email that delivers my phone messages. It's only a one year term position while the girl is on maturnity leave.

I'm giving workshops on copyright. I'm collecting payment from people who copy and redistributing money to the publishers. I make appointments for the lawyers and make sure they get paid. I take minutes for the Secretary of the President. I work under the Vice President of Finance. I put policy in the University handbook and keep the webpages updated. Just as I figure this job out it will be time for me to leave.

But until then, I work the same hours as the Muffin. We carpool and have lunch together. And I bought four-inch power heels (yes, me) to go with my new kick-ass stylish corporate image.

Shower Revelations

2006-08-21T13:58:00.000-07:00

Finish the Sentence

A woman's place... is at the Mall; writes the Muffin's cousin

I knew I liked this woman.

Behind every great man is...his ass

If the shoe fits...buy one in every colour

As we talk I learn more.

"I kept my last name." *gasp*

"I didn't attend Catholic marriage classes." *gasp!*

"We lived together for seven years before marrying." *holy cow*

"I wish I'd waited longer." *amazing!*

"I don't want children." *OMG! In this family?!?*

If this seems like no big deal then you don't know the culture I'm dealing with. This woman is my idol. Of course she explains it wasn't easy.

"When I told my family I was keeping my last name, I expected my Dad at least to be proud of me. You know - carrying on the family name and all that. He said, 'what do you think you're trying to prove?'"

We are at a bridal shower. Yes, another one. It will be the last wedding of the summer (for me) in Sept. And I can't wait for wedding season to be over. (There are already two booked for next summer.)

The Muffins parents spent the entire weekend at our apartment.

"Sooo," Muffin's Mom asks. "Is there an engagement we should know about before we go (south for the winter)?"

Silence falls around the already quiet table.

"A wedding? Anything?" She presses.

"Well, we won't do anything until you get back." I say, eyes down.

"Then what are your plans for the spring?"

At the shower most people know who I am already, the Groom's cousin's girlfriend. As they make the connections for those that don't, Muffin's Mom doesn't hesitate to jump in with a resounding 'to be!'

More silence.

"Well, they will be engaged," she announces.

These people never give up.

on the 'Oy'

2006-08-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

"Beasterson!"

"I'm making Spidey dogs!"

"Chin, cin!"

I've only moments before walked into the cabin's yard and already it feels like four years ago.

The Muffin and I have made our way leisurely from S'toon across Manitoba to Thunder Bay. To watch my friend the Beast get married. Of course we were all beasts then.

We met in Banff, a group of girls giggling, crying and bonding over industry night martinis and margaita mondays - not to mention Tuesdays at Mel's, triples at Outabounds, Thursday girls night... you get the idea. The girls haven't changed a bit, still blond, vivacious and outspoken. Over the years we've lost track of each other, fell out of touch and some people couldn't attend, but Meg's wedding was a reunion.

And an introduction. To the Brits.

She was marrying an Englishman. This was the girl who had told her mother she was going to be a nun, she played a nun in the Sound of Music for her school play - and then she went to Banff. And met us. And met Daniel.

Needless to say there were some vague references to the antics during that time period (we were 19 in Canada's party capital) but for the most part the adults were in the dark and we elected to keep the secrets. We knew the truth.

A cabin had been rented outside of the city for out of town guests, including the groomsmen (all British). A one bedroom lake front cabin with hottub and sauna with tents sprouting from the lawn on one side and a campfire on the other. The Muffin and I spent three nights there in our tent and never stopped drinking.

"I'll make you a bet, eh?" one of the girls slurred her way over to the fire. "I won't say eh, if you don't say mate."

"Gee, mate." He regards her blurrily, "thats tough. Chin Chin!!"

I learned a few new drinking games, and through a beer fog they seemed quite difficult and infinitely entertaining.

"I propose a game of 21 to myyyy...right! ONE!"

Shrieking girls make a mass exodus from the hottub and beeline for the lake.

But morning comes early. And with it arrived an irritable Meg. It was rehersal dinner day. None of the boys had tuxes. None were even awake.

Rousing sleep deprived hungover british boys is not the simplest matter at 9am but finally they were off. That left three couples - two still failing to apear. So we collapsed their tent on top them. And as we cleared up empties and BBQ'd bison burgers, they joined us.

"I'm off the 'Eh'" the male half of the considerably worse for wear couple declared saluting with his hair of the dog brew, "I'm on the 'Oy'!"

The bestman had had a summer fling with one of the bridesmaids. She visited him twice in England before calling it quits. The maid of honour slept with the bestman. I heard it, their tent was beside me, early one morning - and briefly I must say.

At the reception the maid of honour drank herself to a stupor and wiggled all over the bestman until we were all disgusted. The bridesmaid with the previous claim cleverly dedeuced their affair and spent the night crying in the van. The bestman ran from the dining room to spray vomit from the balcony railing of the Golf & Country Club. The maid of honour's ex-fiance showed up so she canoodled with him on the dancefloor for a while.

"To the Bride and Groom, eh!" yelled the Brits.

And at the end of the night the bride was stoned on a hotel room floor.

Go CFL!

2006-07-30T10:03:00.000-07:00

So I went to a Riders Game. Saskatchewan Roughriders vs Calgary Stampeders. CFL. At Mosiac Stadium on Taylor Field*. For my Birthday. Thats right, me.

And I enjoyed it.

The Muffin and I sat in the stands on the sunny side and tanned and drank beer and waved my pom pom. I even wore green and white.

Mostly I didn't understand what was going on. The Muffin said he'd teach me later. So then I watched the cheerleaders instead, at least I understood what they were doing. Little dances and sexy poses. Plus I've been watching Making the Squad on TV - cheerleader auditions for the NFL.

Fireworks shot from the uprights when we scored and we beat Calgary (it was cause I was there - although I hear the Riders got creamed by the Stamps the following weekend in Calgary).

After the game the Muffin and I joined the mass exodus from the stadium, ate sandwhichs at the casino and stayed at the Holiday Inn where we hot tubbed in the morning. We were going to be camping for the next week. I had to soak up indoor living.

*Taylor is some famous footballer guy that the Regina Stadium was named for when it was built. In the grand tradition of corporate ownership Mosiac bought the rights to brand the stadium -
BUT Mosiac (or someone smarter, I'm not sure) realized that this little province is still attached to tradition, so the field remained named after Taylor and the stadium is Mosiac. The Geriatric Rolling Stones will be playing there in the near future. Quite the hype.

Rejected once, rejected twice

2006-07-20T15:24:00.000-07:00

"What is Leadership?"

Ummm.. ummmmm

This sounds like an easy question - in theory. In practice it isn't. I know.

The day after dropping my resume off at The Hotel, due to the Muffin's urging and my Moms insistence, I was called for an interveiw. Yippee right? Now I'm fidgeting between two prettily dressed critical women with a lot more qualifications than me.

"You have a Journalism degree and want to work in a hotel....isn't that an odd combination?"

It's a communication degree - with marketing and business electives and a PR major. Plus I've worked in hotels before. Welcome to my comfort zone. I didn't think it was such a hard concept to grasp.

So I was nervous. But the interveiw was twenty minutes and I was personable and didn't freeze. I was articulate and friendly. The interveiwer's sister in Kelowna is on the Dragon Boat team (my mom is on the Kamloops team). So we bonded. Pretty good for an interveiw I thought.

But they didn't call.

I waited.

Waited and stressed.

Finally I called.

"Hello! I was just going to call you! It was such a pleasure meeting with you! You are a great candidate! ...."

There are a few too many exclamation points in her chipper tone.

"....we've decided to hire internally."

Great. Except....

A week later the interveiwer calls. The girl who took my potential job has left a vacancy, am I interested in competing for that position?

I have another interveiw.

But this time I am familiar with the lobby. I've learned a few names, met a few people. I'm no longer nervous. I meet with the HR guy.

He used to live in Pentiction, hates the NDP and says realestate in Saskatoon is going to boom in the next five years. He's only been at The Hotel for five days so he doesn't have an internal relationships. I have hope.

Alas, it's their bloody mandate.

"I'm sorry Ms. K. We've decided to hire an internal candidate, but you made the decision really hard.... really enjoyed meeting you .....and the person we selected has left a vacancy at the front desk. Are you interested in competeing for that position?"

Gee.

I have worked front desk for about four years now. It definately is the way to break into the clique of hotel world. But now I've been told twice that I am qualified for bigger and better things. I may have started at a desk three weeks ago, but now I want more. And now I don't like The Hotel.

Rejected twice by the same hotel for two different jobs after two different interveiws.
I'm not that desperate. Yet.

Art Appreciation

2006-07-11T20:05:00.000-07:00

During my last big post (I know you all read it, it was there for a month at least) regarding my outrageous spending habits and two major purchases, I provided pictures of the kayak. Now, at long last, here it is - the art I so vaguely referred to.

This is a Beverley Doolittle signed and numbered limited edition lithograph print. It is titled: When the Wind had Wings. Unlike a car or a kayak or most of the other large purchases you might make (except perhaps for a house) art is an investment that will appreciate - that's right, this increases in value. Already I could probably re-sell this print for twice what I paid for it. (Doolittle has recently released a new series and demand is rapidly increasing).

I had mine professionally framed on acid free, archival backing with a distressed wood frame; double matted with a painted bevel. I think it looks fantastic. Plus I picked all the colours myself. The gallery attempted to sell me a gaudy cherrywood frame with suede mattes, but I knew I wanted a white frame. The gallery girl even reluctantly told me I had good taste after we discussed the work of other artists. Thus begins my venture into the art world and my addiction. I can't wait to purchase my next one. I think I'll go for a giclee.

Roadside attractions

2006-07-10T15:13:00.000-07:00

Yes, this is a giant sausage statue.

Small prairie towns are strangely proud of their weird giant monuments. But then small prairie towns are strange.
This sausage icon is in Mundare. And I have to admit the sausage is excellent, although it wouldn't have been my first choice of civic decoration.

My mom and I happened upon this town while driving me from grad to home. We stopped for a caffeine refuel, mom for diet coke and I for coffee. Coffee - of the frothy specialty starbucks sort I favour seemed to be in short supply, there being no starbucks between Edmonton and Lloydminster so far as I know.

"Where are you folks from?" a small, dark woman in a deserted pizzeria greeted us.

It was too early. And I'd been suffering allergy attacks all week, without coffee there was no way I was ready for small talk.

"We are on our way to Saskatoon." My mom replied. But then she's a morning person.

"Ah. I have two sons there. I lived there for a while but it's just too small for me. It's grown a bit I understand but still - I just needed something bigger."

I stumbled out, coffee in hand. I couldn't think of anything to say.
I've heard people belittle the prairies. I've heard people belittle Saskatoon. I'm coming to expect their ignorance.
But really.
Saskatoon - the biggest city in Saskatchewan - was too small, so I moved to ..... Mundare? Now I've heard everything.

Other small prairie towns boast of the World's Largest Perogy, Glendon AB, largest Pysanka (ukrainian Easter Egg) Vegreville AB, largest Coffeepot, Davidson SK and many many uncountable more. Yours to discover.

the Degree is official!

2006-07-10T14:54:00.000-07:00

Away on a Raft

2006-05-27T15:34:00.000-07:00

Well the Muffin and I have made some big purchases - as I mentioned not too long ago -and our super, duper inflatable kayak has arrived. My sister teased that we will name it and love it and it will be just like our first born. My Mom suggested establishing custody beforehand.

The Muffin laughed at me upon reading the last entry in which I mentioned the kayak. He thought it strange that I would emphasize it more than the art as the boat is kind of his project and the art mine. But I feel like I continually have to promote this boat because there are a lot of nay-Sayers out there who think we have purchased a rubber-dingy-toy-type and I assure you this is not the case.

We have done hours and hours of research on this looking at hardshell to folding to inflatable and really, when we talked about first purchasing a kayak - a hardshell - suddenly there was talk of a new car required to haul the thing. Now we aren't really hardcore, although the Muffin has dreams, and portability really began to be an issue. Like once you get down the river, how do you get back?
Well - one would stay with the boat, the other would cab back to the car and drive back to the kayak for the lengthy loading process. I also know what I'm talking about when I say lengthy because I witnessed just such an event when our behind-the-door neighbor loaded theirs onto the rooftop of their car. Let me just say - ouch.

And opposed to popular opinion these boats are often more resilient than the hardshell kind as they bounce harmlessly off rocks and obstacles without a scratch or a puncture. Granted you lose speed due to the increased drag of thicker walls and a flatter bottom but you gain increased stability. So it depends what you're looking for. The Muffin and I aren't planning on racing competively or taking on class 4 rapid running. We wanted something for leisure and perhaps overnight camping. This works for us, so don't knock it until you know what you're talking about.

Anyway - the boat came.

The Muffin blew it up in the living room, it took about 10 minutes with a foot pump once he stopped fiddling with valves and cooing over the rudder. More than 12 feet long it took up the length of the living room. So we both sat in it. The Muffin attempted to stuff packs and sleeping bags into the fore and aft holds and I reclined with my feet over the side. Believe me, that will fast become my predominant pose while kayaking.

So, now we just need one nice day to get it on the water. So far there are none forth coming.

Did I mention this boat is used by the Canadian Rangers?

Non - sequitor

2006-05-16T20:25:00.000-07:00

*and look how talented I am! Animation!!

Hey, Big Spender!

2006-05-16T15:11:00.000-07:00

I am a university grad in a stable long-term relationsip and currently unemployed due to my recent relocation. I guess this is the part where I learn to grow up, be an adult, get a real job, a real career, have a family, a house, a cat.

I am currently reclining in my bikini on the balcony of a hotel with a trio of black American boxers working out in the weight room behind me (and can I just say, yum) it doesn't exactly feel like real life.

Since I am not working at the moment, nor recieving income of any kind, with student loan payments looming one would think I would be miserly with my borrowed bank account.

To date the Muffin and I have purchased:

A bookshelf - but not just any bookshelf, a floor to ceiling cherrywood shelving unit that we went to three stores before obtaining

Curtains - floor to ceiling black-out drapes, none of this wussy sheer half-drapery stuff

An inflatable Kayak - but not just any Kayak, this is the one the Canadian Rangers use, the Innova Helios 380, a 12 foot tandem inflatable that can handle up to class 3 rapids with optional rudder and compartments for gear. Inflates in 10 minutes, deflates like magic into a mere 38lb backpack. Trust me, this is one of the best of its kind (I would know) and super portable.

Art - but not just any art, a signed and numbered limited edition panarama lithograph. A collectable. And the only one of our recent purchases that will increase in value.

So thats the big stuff.
I, on the other hand, have nothing to fill my days. So I buy things.
Mascara (the fancy volumizing, two colour kind - for special occasions, like grad)
Anti-perspirant (clear for summer, i have two solids already)
Necklace
Earrings (for mother)
More Earrings (3 for ... anyway it was a deal, for me)
Shoes (couldn't resist, they were cheerful and colourful and only $10)
Bra (I really, really needed a neutral despite people telling my fushia and pink work - they dont. Boring to get a neutral though when there is so many fun colours...I don't have turquoise yet)
Expensive Cheese (for tea with his parentals when the Muffin was away)
Tube top (thought it was 2 for $15 with the tank top - it wasn't)
Tank top (needed to go as a layer with my other top to match the skirt that doesn't go with anything)
Books
more books
umm ... another book (I'm bored remember)
Lunch (I also eat when I'm bored)
Coffee
Icecream (and indulge when I'm bored and the Muffin isn't about to stop me)
Latte
Iced, Double-blended, whip on the bottom, Hazelnut-Truffle Latte
Bug spray
Sunblock
Mothers Day Card
Movie Rental (quality time with Muffin)

So you see, all very valuable purchases, purchased with money I just shouldn't be spending. Because I have no income. Because its really the governments money. But hey - the Muffin said oh well, its in my account.

We have a bad habit of enabling each other. Seperatly we both do well enough at saving. Together - we encourage each other to buy things because the other supports the decision. Maybe we are even *gasp* bad for each other.

*sigh* "I really like that thing."

"Well get it! It's totally practical, and you have wanted it forever. You totally deserve it."

So I suppose its not all bad (I mean the Muffin encourages me to shop! How many BFs do that?).

Until we are eating KD in the candlelight. Then I might have to draw the line.

Domesticated

2006-05-08T13:16:00.000-07:00

"Babe, you know - if you have nothing to do - you could iron my white shirt.."

I laugh gaily at his suggestion and hang up. As if.

Later, when the Muffin returns from the office he pulls out the ironing board and the white shirt and as he swears under his breath at the flimsy material that insists on creasing he tells me that he made a bet with his male colleagues. Colleagues who believe I'm domestic. Easy money, he tells me.

But I am domestic. I just draw the line at ironing.

I cook and grocery shop, although I mostly avoid dishes. I repaired the buttons of his suit jacket. I made apple-oatmeal muffins Saturday morning and as the Muffin vacuumed (I would have done that too but ran out of time) I folded laundry.

As I sat on the floor in my robe Sunday morning rolling coins with my coffee mug balanced beneath a chair and the Muffin sat at the table playing a video game, conquering the world with a plate of raspberries and pineapple at his elbow, I couldn't help but look around the apartment and grin. We have a home together.

In other news - just as Duchess was beginning to make his debut on this blog, he passed away. Perhaps he didn't like travelling after all. Perhaps there was something in the water. He belonged to me for almost two years and was still confused about his gender. Still, my mother assures me he was a happy fish. He had a lot of personality for a fish and enjoyed being social, truly! He touched many lives and will be missed by all.

Un-perfect moments

2006-05-01T13:33:00.000-07:00

We're going out Friday night. The Muffin's words run through my mind. I'll be home about 7:30 we have reservations for 8:30 but I'm not telling you where. It's a surprise. But I'm wearing my suit.

Oooh a dress-up date. How fun! But what will I wear?!?

I was going to agonize for hours. It was expected. But...then my friend whom I haven't seen in over a year showed up on my doorstep (after I kept her waiting while talking to my mom on the phone - I really must get call waiting) we chatted and drank lemonade and then we went to meet her friend. I didn't have anything else to do after all. We went to City Hall where both girls paid parking tickets, we went to a salon wholesaler...mythical places that I have only heard about, places where you must be a member (aesthetician or hair dresser) just to get through the door...We fawned over creams and conditioners, waxes and hair straighteners, smelled the shampoo and judged the overblushed ad models and their acrylic nails. We went to a pub. We chatted and drank Keiths. And suddenly it was 6:30.

I haven't even showered!

I ran home from the pub like Cinderella at midnight. I called the Muffin as I exited the shower. Whew. He was late. What do I wear...?!?

I have a love affair with pink lately - it seems to suit my new short, wildly curly hair - and I have a lovely lacy skirt that's a pale mocha color - a neutral - yet nothing seems to go with it!!

In desperation I pulled out my dresses - and found one!

The Muffin walked in the door cradling an armload of flowers. I was hastily finishing the dishes still left in the sink from my week alone and talking to his mother on the phone. Oh well - not all moments are perfect.

The flowers were gorgeous. White and yellow chrysanthemums and carnations with big green leaves, it was a cheerful and springy bouquet. The Muffin has given me many flowers, including roses and tulips and once a single over-sized red daisy, I love the surprise of variety.

We drove into a homey residential area - don't ask me where, I don't know the city that well yet - I pestered the Muffin with questions designed to reveal his source for this recommended eatery that he had never been to either.

We parked at a tiny strip mall - if you can call a video store and a specialty coffee shop a strip mall. The coffee shop is called Truffles and by night it is a bistro. It was absolutely divine.

Whole grain homemade bread with whipped butter and saffron rice soup followed by red wine that complimented medium-rare lamb and blackened sirloin with side dishes of risotto and potato lasgna. Dessert was a melt in your mouth chocolate mousse cake that I could have floated away on.

After lounging for nearly two hours with an attentive, attractive waiter the Muffin took me for one last stop. At night the Weir on the Saskatchewan River is lit with a huge spotlight and a boardwalk winds along the riverbank alongside. It was, not magical - we're too pragmatic for that - it was, fun. The breeze was brisk, pelicans floated in the waves and we (I) skipped along the boards that clicked hollowly under my heeled sandals. It felt like sneaking out your window as a teenager to meet secretly in the park.

I turned beneath the light and the Muffin caught my waist...but my heel caught between the boards and I eased sheepishly away from him to limp back and retrieve it. Damn. I thought that would be perfect.

As we walked back to the car, me hesitating ever few steps to yank my heels free of the cracks, the Muffin remarked, "see how much fun we have together after two years?"

What?

Two years?

Said who?

I feel like I met him yesterday. It can't really be two whole years. Why isn't this getting old yet? Surely one of us should be bored.

He reached over without looking to link his fingers through mine as we drove home. And it was perfect.

One Fish's Journey

2006-04-27T11:23:00.000-07:00

My name is Duchess, despite the fact that I am male. But being pink, I take male or female references as they come. Besides - I'm a fish, a fighting fish or Beta, I'm not overly concerned about gender.

One chilly winter day I was taken from the tiny fish bowl in Petcetra, plopped into a plastic bag rolled in newspaper and taken to my new home. I lived in the sundrenched window of a downtown apartment. Until the homeowner became involved in a long distance relationship. Since then I have met all sorts of people and been to all sorts of places.

There was Arbs who insisted on calling me 'fishy' in a high-pitched, ingrating tone. She first took me to a glaringly white condo with a pristine showroom of a living room and dining room. I wasn't allowed to stay there though - I was banished to Arbs' room. Out of sight, out of mind. My travel container of an oversized Mayo jar must have ruined the hospital room decor.
Another time Arbs brought me to a house full of people. People, people everywhere; long-hair hippy types who had parties until 6am. It was enough to ruin my digestion.
And rather than leave me there, Arbs dropped me casually onto the front seat of her car and drove to Mission. Thats right - FOUR hours away from my home, where I spent the weekend with her and her rather oddball family. I might also mention that Arbs talked to me the entire trip. And the entire trip back. Some might think that a person who talks that much to a fish is strange. Or crazy.

There was also my owner's mother who first took me to the chilly white office. The cold really did dampen my appetite and sent Mom into a frenzy. She returned with tiny worms that she wiggled furiously one by one for almost an hour in the hopes that they would catch my attention.
After that she took me to her own home about a half hour outside the city. I went there several times, sitting across from the cheerful wood stove and happily eating individually offered worms. Yum.

My latest adventure, as if I haven't spent enough time in the car, was a two-day road trip.

My old apartment was slowly emptied. I was left sitting on the floor of a bare white home while the Muffin scrubbed the kitchen with elbow length rubber gloves and my owner whined about school from the other room.
I was the last thing removed from the apartment before relocating to the floor of the front seat of a wide white Cadiallac towing an over-stuffed U-haul. There was even time to say a tearful goodbye to Arbs who came specifically to see me, I know.

I spent ten hours in the car that day, listening to an overdose of Bon Jovi and Eminiem before being taken, along with all the plants I might add, to a hotel room outside of Jasper.
The next morning, after a brief stop at Wal-Mart for socks for the Muffin (who put them on in the parking lot), we were on our way.

We were in Saskatoon for a mere two hours. Boxes were hauled and lifted and chucked, furntinure was carried and then....we were back in the car.
There was some touring of a warehouse district in search of the U-Haul dropoff. Fortunately the Muffin stopped for directions. Unfortunately he couldn't read the map provided.

Finally we were on the highway again. Eventually in another Hotel room, this time in Regina. I spent the week in that room. Seeing no one. Not moving. It was pretty boring.

Five days later, I was on the move and back to my new home in Saskatoon. The weather is nice, the living room is slowly become uncluttered and life has returned to normal.

Turning and turning in the clear water. Stopping on the bottom for a rest. Searching for food on the surface and blowing bubbles. Turning and turning....

First Chapter...Or final?

2006-04-10T00:13:00.000-07:00

It was my last night at work today. Forever. At least in this job.

And the shift after me has already called three times to tell me things I forgot. Well, it's my last shift. It could have been worse. I could have been drunk. They can't fire me can they.

I've been in that job for a long time, surprisingly enough. I was hired for three months, which became indefinite, which became almost two years. And look! I still forget stuff...
There are a lot of people there that I will miss. A lot of people there that became my friends, and more recently there are people there that I could have been very good friends with - and now I'll never know.

It's strange. I've left jobs before. But I think I was more honest with people there, a lot of them as old or older than my own mom. We went through phone sex and teenage boyfriends, applying to Carlton, a wedding shower, the death of a spouse, a sex toy expedition, new boyfriends, re-boyfriends and fishbowl Fridays (not to mention the sex-toy party I'm going to miss). That's a lot of experiences, a lot of memories. And it's strange because some of the people I will miss, I had such little daily contact with, but they were eminently likeable. As much as I hated it there sometimes, I will miss (some of) them.

I received a card, "The more you like someone, the harder it is to say goodbye..."

Over the last weeks various acquaintances have asked me if I'm excited. More recently close friends asked me if I was afraid. To both of these the easy answer is yes, the honest answer is sometimes. My apartment is a mess, I have no furniture left, I'm swamped with homework assignments and I'm supposed to be excited?

Of course I am moving.
A new chapter.

It feels like I'm saying a lot of goodbyes.

Alternative Theories

2006-04-04T18:54:00.000-07:00

On a bright, sunny day one fine summer in Banff my roomate, Tayls, and I developed a theory. We walked home across the stone bridge spanning the sparkling Bow River clasping multiple plastic bags emblazed with brands that slapped merrily against our knees as we attempted to justify the expenditure with something resembling logic.

"I mean the first time is supposed to hurt, right? It wasn't until my mom noticed I was taking a lot of baths....turns out I'm allergic to latex."

Shes also allergic to elastoplast, that stuff on bandaids. But that problem isn't nearly as immediate. How many guys carry a 'selection' of condoms in their wallet? Nevermind that seven-year-old crumpled square they like to call protection.

Fortunately Tayls is a forward thinking modern woman - she buys her own selection.

"Unfortunately, non-latex is expensive. You also can't get lambskin, because that's too porous. Latex condoms are like a dozen for $7, one of mine is $4."

"Geez, that sure could add up fast. Even three times a week...and what if you did it more than once... Good thing you're not doing it now. Look at all that money you're saving."

Tayls cheerfully lifts a handful of bags, "Look at all that money I'm spending."

And that, dear friend, is the crux of our theory. Sex is expensive. And so when you aren't having it, it gives you an excuse to buy all sorts of things. Toys, lingerie, things for yourself - because look at all the money you're saving.

But is shopping a true altenative? They often say that about chocolate - there's hormones in chocolate that give the same effects as orgasm.

I recently had this argument with the Muffin, who thinks I should cut down on my chocolate intake. For now, I can argue that chocolate is a replacement, a comfort food. When he's here I lose that argument. He thinks I shouldn't crave chocolate anymore. So when I'm shopping I shouldn't need sex either?

Chocolate can be a replacement for sex. But sometimes, you just need chocolate.

Time Change, Fool

2006-04-02T19:30:00.000-07:00

It's April. Yesterday was April first. Last night was daylight savings time.

"Hi, it's Lori. It's 3 O'clock and I was just wondering if you were planning to come to work today? Give me call..."

Damnit. Damn IT. DAMN it! DAMN IT!!! DAMN!!!

I'm late. An hour late. Even though I changed every clock in my own house.
The clocks at the mall are wrong. I should sue them.

The good news is I've got great new shoes, a shirt and necklace to match, a hair straightening iron and new underwear, including ten (count them, ten) pairs of panties.
An entirely successful day despite the slight mishap; the joke's on me.

Hop on the Bus**

2006-03-29T11:51:00.000-08:00

I missed the bus on Monday.

I was sitting outside waiting to go to school. I was even offered a ride by a co-worker. I told him not to bother.

I was half-heartedly attempting to put my new puzzle ring together and sort of daydreaming in the weak spring sunlight--and the bus drove right by me.

I gave it up as a lost cause and went back to the apartment to pack and sleep and procrastinate until the next class and my next attempt at catching the bus.

This morning, I have the same class as the one I missed on Monday. I resolved not to miss it (besides we have a test).

I forgot to set my alarm and woke with a start. I reassured myself I was not late, I had woken at my usual time and had exactly an hour to prepare. After pretending to snooze for 20 minutes I finally heaved myself out of bed to search for clothes, said good morning to the Muffin and departed for the bus stop.

I arrived at school with 15 minutes to spare. Stood in line for coffee, waved to a fellow classmate and sat in the hallway with the campus paper.

"Uh, it's only quarter past nine," a round, red-faced jovial classmate informs me.

"What? Seriously?"

"Seriously."

I'm an hour early for class. Crap.

**arbs

Shopping Spree

2006-03-28T23:25:00.000-08:00

It seems everyone in the world has attended a sex toy party, except myself.

My shy, self-effacing friend went to one and didn't invite me.

"I ordered an ecstasy ring, it hasn't come in yet. And we played musical dildo with a 4-Ft two headed silicon penis, we had to pass it back and forth between our legs...I was the second to last one out. It's too bad you're leaving, Kayla is having one on the 22nd."

My own sister attended such an event and purchased a toy by Hustler. Even the male roommate of my Muffin attended, returning humbled by the outrageous and life-like offerings.

I work with four other girls my age and each one of them as well as having a live-in or long-term boyfriend have multiple fascinating toys or titillating piercings or flavoured accessories and assorted erotica I've never even heard of. Other acquaintances are experimenting with wax and depilatory creams.

My Muffin is across the country and I am not partaking in the wonder of sexual independence. It seems a shame. Besides, I'm moving to the flatlands; there's certainly no sexual independence there. I'm going to have to replace my flattering cleavage baring outfits with turtle-neck sweaters.

So I've done it. Bit the bullet, so to speak, and sallied forth with a posse of similar-minded girlfriends. And wouldn't you know it, such toys are better enjoyed with a partner.

Writing Excersizes

2006-03-22T12:01:00.000-08:00

Print Journalism is not for me
Print journalism is not for me. Dealing everyday with strict deadlines and a rigid inverted pyramid style is not compatible with my spontaneous and sociable nature. I need the freedom to write about topics that interest me, not topics that appeal to a wider community. Newspaper is a dull, grey medium and I see life in full color!

On the other hand, I need structure in my work routine and waking up everyday not knowing what I’m going to accomplish and who I’m going to meet is jarring to my sense of organization. Sitting at a cubicle in a room clattering with noise is not my idea of a pleasant work environment. I enjoy more sedate surroundings, a private office with plants and a filing cabinet.

I don’t know for sure what kind of work I will find fulfilling, but I know it isn’t working on a newspaper.

Expository argument by contrast

Wednesday is a Good Day
Wednesday is a good day. It is in the middle of the school week, an equal distance from Monday and Friday. For me, it begins at 10:30 am when Chuck Hays greets the class in a raspy baritone and a continuation of Monday’s exercises. He paces in dusty motorcycle boots as he lectures about commas and copyediting. However, discussions about verb agreement are not nearly as enticing.

Sitting in the computer lab on my plush, spinning chair, while checking out the status of my eBay and contemplating graduation in four short weeks (22 days) is the highlight of the week. Classmates chat about upcoming plans and reminisce about parties past. Hayes urges the class to stay on task but with only 20 minutes left, students are content to laugh at their own attempts at expository writing.

Wednesday is indeed, a good day.

Expository argument by illustration

Another University Vignette
The imposing campus crawling with eager students would be my future for the next four years. In September 2002, I finally made the decision to continue my education and I started on a path that I intended to lead to a Public Relations Major.

First-year University is filled with cramped auditorium classrooms, intimidating English professors, and academic papers. The years that follow become more comfortable, as all the students who were only pretending to attend are weeded out in that first year, class sizes diminish, professors learn students names and essays have something to say.

Until finally, after gathering random arts credits solely for the sake of pre-requisites and credit gathering ‘experience’, The Program begins.

The Program was my intended destination, the Place where I would spend the majority of the next two years, the People with whom I would spend that time. And now it closes, in four short weeks I will be free of it all. I cannot see what lies after.

Unique relation of an experience: First-person frame with third-person description

Ugh...

2006-03-11T07:19:00.000-08:00

I'm hungover. I'd just like you to know that.

Something like Bradshaw**

2006-03-03T19:18:00.000-08:00

There is something ironic about that title. In fact, there is something ironic about this post perhaps it is plargarism, perhaps it is sarcasm, or perhaps it is just exageration.

I was working tonight. Productively as usual. When...

"MOUSE IN MY ROOM! MOUSE IN MY ROOM! What do I do??!!??" shrieks out from the direction of my msn.

Robyn is standing on a chair holding her laptop aloft and typing precariously with one hand as she peers cautiously at the carpet beneath her. At least thats how it looked to me.

"OK seriously," she says to end my giggles. "What do I do? Should I vacuum?"

Umm

"...to get rid of the crumbs? Heeeerrreeee Mousey, mousey."

Well this is getting to weird for me.

So, like I said, I was at work.

A guest came up to me, as they often do, and proceeded to tell me about his recent adventures around my quaint little city. Like I care.
He was jogging. And every person, every person, he passed - said "Hello."
Yes. A phenomenon, I know.

He then explained to me that all the rooms in the hotel were breachable because of the beveled trim so he was leaving his laptop with me. Because thats a lot safer.
"Are you from Toronto?" I asked suspiciously.
He was flustered - and flattered - 'you think I look Canadian..."
"Oh. You're American. Well that makes a lot of sense then." Unprofessional I'm sure. Who cares.

My msn pipes up again.

" EEEEeeeeee I SAW IT AGAIN!!" Robyn yelps as she re-mounts the chair.

"Are you vacuuming?"

"I went looking for the cat. Ok. I need to rearrange my room and get everything off the floor. Can mice climb?"

"Use a broom. Sweep it out!"

"It's so far from the door, if I chase it its going to go under the bed."

So Robyn is once again on her chair screeching for rescue from her roomates...

"SHRIEKING? STANDING?" (She's fond of capitals tonight.) "I was sitting with my legs up and just kind of projecting my voice nervously."

I don't hesitate to assure her that that is much more reasonable. And to remind her of that SATC episode when Carrie has a mouse in her hair.

Out of the Frying pan - into the Fire.

Too bad there is no Russian to save our heroine: the International Tart.

**'risa

Studying Hard

2006-02-28T22:16:00.000-08:00

"The weave is tight and durable and of a good cotton, its a very good sock." Sarah's Muffin is sitting at the table darning socks. Unfortunatley the darning is excruiciating.

-He sews on the outside of the material in an uneven zigzag.
-He ties both threads and seams with the needle planted in the placemat in front of him and uses both hands to painstakingly wrap the individual ends into a knot
-He uses green thread on the red stripe

I can't stand it. I show him how to tie a knot with a needle rolled against your forefinger. I show him how to whip stitch on the inside of the sock. I'll be damned if that darning won't go faster.

Well I've returned from the frozen plains to the mild interior - and to 4 midterms and two assignments in four days.

I'm now at Sarah's house preparing to study by drinking wine in the kitchen with the boys and watching her prepare a fabulous vegan dinner.

Yes its true, Sarah is a vegan. Fortunately it's not a lifestyle change, just yet another school assignment. Ah, the things we do for....love.

"Cheese is the hardest thing," Sarah admits about her experiment. "I ran into Shawn in the hall and told him and he said I should research whether vegans in general miss cheese or meat more."

She rolls her eyes. "Actually, I cheated once."

Well it's been two weeks of bread and lettuce sandwiches, who could blame her for sneaking a peice of cheese? a square of chocolate...?

"....cheeseburger and bacon pizza with cheesecake, strawberries and whipped cream."

Talk turns to old roomates:

"He was SOOO annoying! How could you have not know!"

"Well, Sarah liked him! For like a month!"

Boyfriends who hoard:

"He won't throw out his grade eight timetable! Because when he looks at it he remembers what classes he was in...." (more eye-rolling)

"He has a complete set of like white, flower dinky mugs..."

"Cornell!!"

"Remember Cornell?"

"They are so ugly!!"

And more:

Poonam has her bathroom back, Sarah has a Madonna eighties belt and everyone agrees Kate is irritating.

A productive study session all in all.

The Simple Life

2006-02-23T12:27:00.000-08:00

"Saskatoon originally began as a temperance colony and it is now the largest city in Saskatchewan."

I'm on an unofficial city tour with the Muffin himself. He knows a lot about it - he grew up here.

"Sutherland, or 'Scuzzerland', where my office is, used to be a bedroom community but as the city grew it was taken over. So you can see that it still has like, a main street with a hardware store, hotel, gas and grocery."

In the backseat are friends who have come out from Calgary for the weekend. We aren't walking this tour because its -30. I love this province.

Eventually the talk turns to realestate. This has become a hot topic among the four of us. The couple from Calgary have recently invested in quarter shares in both Fernie and Canmore. The Muffin and I are talking about getting a place of our own: house, townhouse, condo... we're still talking about it.

The tour ended with a drive-by of the townhouses Muffin and I are eyeing up and a meandering turn through the older part of town where every other house is for sale, where we happened upon an open house.

The female half of the couple in the backseat, whom I adore, starts up immediately, "Two bedrooms, only one bath upstairs? Oh thats not big enough. What if you suddenly have a little one running around..."

She is shussed by her partner but becomes indignant. "I have a friend that that happened to! And then they had to move! And moving with a toddler, and finding a house, and financing a house..."

We go inside. A floral living room with two overstuffed floral chesterfields lead into a narrow faded kitchen. The dining room is so full of furniture you can't circle the table.

Upstairs the bedrooms are done overwhelmingly, one each, in pale pink and mint. The roof is riddled with cracks and water damage.

I can't beleive it. I'm standing here with the Muffin in an old woman's house complete with four generations of furniture and collectables, contemplating purchase - and there's is already a child in the picture.

Welcome to life in the flatlands.

In Transit

2006-02-01T15:25:00.000-08:00

"We were long distance for five months - he lived in Vancouver." The pretty brunette rolls her eyes, "but I was making all the effort! I went down there, I called him. He was supposed to come up for Christmas but then had to work. I would wait for him to call me but like days would go by before he would think to pick up the phone. So finally I just burst out crying in my kitchen one day 'That's it! I've had it! This is over!'"

I'm sitting on the bus listening to the not so tragic break-up story of a complete stranger across the aisle. This happens to me a lot. Of course when they're complete strangers I don't feel the need to actively listen as a compassionate, sympathetic friend.

"Oh yeah? Well I have this friend who was dating a guy and she was making all the effort. Setting up the dates, calling to say Hi....all of it. One day she decided to see what would happen if she didn't. And you know what? He never called! Never! So she just assumed after a few weeks that they were broken up. And he told his next girlfriend that she broke his heart!"

The drama overwhelms me when I talk to strangers. It's the one place I can exaggerate at will and not be corrected. "Can you believe that!?! I know! I know! He never called and then he bad mouths her to his friends. That girlfriend, by the way? Was my friends cousin! The nerve of some men!"

The brunette nods exuberantly in agreement. The man in the seat in front of me regards us with wide-eyed caution. I do know him a little - from a Philosophy class three years ago. Actually, I flirted with him for his notes because I was too lazy to take my own. This conversation began because he complained of a broken heart. Oh right.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

"Well I have this ex. And then I was seeing a girl over the summer. Just about three months. It was really great, we got along well. But then I was working with my ex and we started talking again. So I broke up with the other girl because it really wasn't fair to her. One day my ex - now friend 'thing' - flipped out at me. So I went back to the other girl. We had talked about moving in together over the summer..."

"So you broke up with your ex and moved in with the other girl?"

"Well I know some people would say it was fast..."

"No, no. I'm just clarifying. So you have an ex-girlfriend that you dumped the current girlfriend for and then dumped the ex to show up on the doorstep of the current girlfriend?" I look over at the brunette.

She nods wisely. "Really it was a matter of: did I want to go to Vancouver and have sex or stay here and have sex."

The bus sways to the curb. "This is my stop."

this One's for the Girls

2006-01-31T22:52:00.000-08:00

"She did 69? Why not just pop it in and get on with it?"

"Well. That would constitute cheating."

"That's just silliness."

"Well some guys consider using condoms not to be cheating because you're not really touching..."

"I mean if you put your penis in the wrong home, thats cheating. I don't put a ziplock bag around my car in a snowstorm and say, 'look it's not snowing.'"

Ah, Special K. Your insight is awe inspiring. Not to mention the graphic examples.

"...and if you want to put your penis in a differnt home then you obviously aren't happy with the space you're currently 'renting', so why not move? It's more expensive to pay rent twice."

Sex and the City Trivia, dress-up and cosmopolitans - there was a girls night some time ago that was highly enjoyed by all. Special K failed to attend (she was bonding with a butchy sister-in-law-to-be on Mexican beaches) but the conversations with all the girls have become more intimate since then. Or at least mine have. After spending a drunken night recalling first times, first kisses and favorite positions (not to mention how to execute the latter in a moving vehicle) one quickly learns the boundaries of their classmates. It's too bad the conversations of that night blur into a drunken haze because I'm sure they would be vastly entertaining in writing.

Did I have a point to this post? Not particularly. Just an appreciation for the openess of my girl friends.

Special K winds to a close.

"Young women in my opinion need to test the world. And sometimes sex is just sex. And sometimes sex is meaningful."

For your listening pleasure: A tribute to my random friends

2006-01-12T00:16:00.000-08:00

Make sure the sound is on your computer. You wouldn't want to miss this.

ZOMBO (Kudos Ernie)

Llama Llama Duck (Kudos Taylor)

Computers don't Byte (Kudos Robyn)

And by popular demand:
Hampster Dance
Hampster Dance 2
Satanic Hampster Dance

At the end of the holidays

2006-01-08T22:43:00.000-08:00

Sometimes there are those perfect moments of connection.

The Muffin was leaving.

It was exactly a year since he had moved three provinces away to a job, leaving me to finish my degree. It was the same weekend. One year later.

I worked a morning shift. One of the only four shifts I had taken in a whole month of holidays, free time and canoodling. The Muffin brought me lunch at work. He met me at the door when I came home. Later we met my Dad and a family friend for pool and drinks at a pub. We left for a dinner date with mutual classmate aquaintances at sushi. The Muffin admired the other girls' jeans - he acuses me of turning him into a girl (too much shopping, love stories and emotions, not mention three seasons of SATC).

It was an early night. The last one we would have together for another 6 weeks or so. We asked each other idly about entertainment for the evening: DVD? Another Chick Flick?

We lay in bed. Not quite dressed. Not quite undressed. Our legs entangled. Caresses paired with teasing jabs and tickles.

"You're leaving me again." I can't help but blame him. I have to blame someone.

"I'm storing up comments like that you know,"replies the Muffin. "So that this time next year, when you're sick of me, I can remind you that you used to miss me."

"I didn't even know what we were doing last year. We said long distance couldn't work. And then when I did talk to you - we had nothing to say to each other. And I thought you should break up with me because of the age difference, because we want different things."

"And what happened then?"

"You came to visit."

"And what happened then?"

"I visited you"

"And what happened then?"

I said I loved you.

We talked of the past and of the future in that one hour. Trust and hope layered over perfect understanding. Intimacy. I never imagined it.

Sask Siren

2005-12-19T16:40:00.000-08:00

The apartment was dark as the Muffin ushered me inside. I was bursting with excitement so glad was I to be here, so glad was I to be off that bus.

Candlelight flickered in the dining room where a set table enticed, in the bathroom where a drawn bath steamed with fragant bubbles, in the bedroom where we started....

I'm in Saskatchewan. And it's such a relief to be away from demanding school, incessant work, draining peer squabbles and incompetant management.

I attended a political christmas party on the Muffin's arm. His co-workers teased, talked about work and teased some more; one offered a ring, one held my hand and I was chosen to be the magicians assistant. Belle of the Ball, indeed. It was a lame party. Men in suits, women in suits, spouses drinking their boredom away and a magic act made for a casino (slightly inappropriate).

Last night we went to the relatives for a traditional Ukrainian Christmas Eve dinner (actual Christmas Eve will be spent in BC beyond the reaches of internet service). There was Kutya (an important ritual wheat dish) which I wouldn't recomend and Borsch, which I would. It was a nice evening and the Muffin readily joined the children with their remote-control cars while I remained with my wine and adult conversation in the kitchen.

Now it is dark outside, cold and snowy and I will be returning home in a mere three days. I'm waiting for the Muffin to return from tennis.

It's strange. We will have spent almost a whole month together by the end of the holidays. Family keeps asking me what is it like? Do we get on? Even the Muffin called it a dry run--the practice session for when we actually live together. However, I feel strangely dependant on him. He works from home to keep me company. When we go out, we go together. If I leave the house, I go alone and I ask directions first. I don't have friends here and the only other people I've met with are his friends; polite, curteous, formal gatherings where I have guest status.

Because I don't live here.

Stupid Question

2005-10-21T19:30:00.001-07:00

"There is no such thing as a dumb question"

But you know there really, really is. And if you're in classes of any sort I'm sure you've heard them. I remember in the past having such conversations with my classmates or an incredulously hissed, "Can you beleive she said that?" as the lecturer pauses to explain with false patience.

There is the student who sits at the very front of the classes and comments on every, single, tiny, fact in a small voice that no one else can hear in order to show the prof that they are indeed knowledgeable and already a fount of information. There is the student who sits at the back of the class and answers the questions of his peers because he can out talk and out shout every voice in the room including the prof.

But truly, the level of stupidity displayed in some of my recent classes is evidence in fact that the quality of education in high schools is decreasing. No. That's not true. The stupidest questions come from the so-called "mature" students. The ones with five kids and 'life experience'.

"Oooh but what if..? Ooh, what if...?"
She strains out of her seat with tiny moans her hand raised high, fingers fluttering.
"What if.. a family goes on a boat and ... and sails around the world? Oooh, what then?"

The instructor simply stares with a glassy eyed, slack jawed expression. He has nothing to say. Did she really just ask that?

Another student regards the offending questioner with disdain.
Samantha (SATC) of the J-school.
"You find them. That's you're fucking job. You're a journalist. You find them, you talk to them, you write the story, or you find someone else. That's what you do."

The teacher clears his throat hastily. He almost claps his hands like a pre-school mother attempting to attract attention. "Well. I think we've talked enough for one day."

Rat Race

2005-10-16T08:09:00.000-07:00

Work.School.Work.School.Work.School

This has become my life with never a break. Is it any wonder I am exhausted? I have little or no motivation to participate in either and so I simply show up, do what is required and move on to the next.

Work.School.Work.School.Work.School.Work.School

We'll see how well that technique works with 4 midterms in 3 days and not a book cracked. Surly I can't be the only one doing a month of reading in one afternoon.

I'm looking forward to grad - who isn't? It means I can get a real job with decent managers (is there such a thing?) and finally enjoy a weekend off. Whoever said school was relaxing has been out of it too long.

Mind you, university is probably some of the most interesting conversations you'll come across.

"Tell the muffin 'Hi from Triple P'" my classmate texts me during Thanksgiving.
Purple Pocket Pussy Pleaser
Quadruple P just doesn't have that ring to it.

It is definately fun though. Women are so much more open to discussing the dynamics and techniques of sex than men are.

"I think my bf was a virgin before he met me," a collegue confides. "I've taught him everything he knows. Namely to not take forever every time. Sometimes I just want him to give it to me. It's why I'm always on top."

Work.School.Work.School.Work.School

I'm happy other people find time for sex. Too bad my muffin is halfway across the country.

Another Willing Victim

2005-10-03T22:38:00.000-07:00

"We should have meetings once a week. Just to check with one another if everything is really, honestly working for us. Just so that we can get out before it turns bad."

"Will there be powerpoint at these meetings?" A snide comment from the Muffin, he thinks he's clever. "We should have them on Tuesdays. That way I can plan my arguments on Monday... and have the rest of the week to make up with you."

I'm in a relationship. A real actual relationship. Nevermind that I've been in this one for almost two years, I just never imagined myself in a relationship. And we are talking about moving in together. Of course I'm in school and so the talking will be a seven month discussion.

Pah! Talking.... I want to.

And people warn of dangers. A hundred small pitfalls; the mingling of the "things" then the seperating of the "things" (should it come to that).

"You'll have to live with a boy, you know." The Muffin himself brings it up.

And maybe I will have to live with a boy and all the tiny annoyances inherent in that, whatever they may be. But I don't have to live with just any boy. I get to live with the Muffin. My Muffin. Someone who is my friend and lover. Someone I like and respect and enjoy. Someone who cares about me, supports me and eases the many moods I am prone to.

It can't be all bad, living with a boy. And so I go, a willing victim of cohabitation.

Those three little words

2005-09-26T11:01:00.000-07:00

"I want to say I love you. I probably shouldn't, but I want to"

We are sitting on the overcrowded public transit heading away from morning classes at the university. The pretty, plump, blonde dominates conversation, talking across me to a spectacled girl over the aisle.

"Six months. And he says 'it doesn't feel that long', which is sweet. But he still could have said I love you." She fans herself with a stack of class notes. "He could've have said, 'I want to spend the next 6 months with you...the next 60 years...'. When did you say it?"

"Seven weeks?"

"Well. That's like twice as long then. He should be privileged to have spent the last six months with me."

So much for open communication and honesty. Maybe women are more analytical than they like to let on. Certainly I wouldn't know. I never analyze things.

It took me forever to say it, the 'L' word. I agonized that the muffin would think I was pushing him into a relationship he never even meant to become a relationship.
But I said it. I was just giddy one night, so happy. I had to try it. And it was perfect.
Those three little words that he gave back to me.

I want you

2005-09-24T18:29:00.000-07:00

I want you to recognize me when I walk into your room at night, to roll over and pull me down with you.

I love it when you touch me. Always. When you put a hand on my knee when we're sitting, when you reach for my hand as we walk or hug me for no reason at all. When you brush my hair away from my face and tell me I'm beautiful - first thing in the morning.

I want to turn to you in the middle of the night and have you respond to me, to slide your hands along my sides when you come down over me.

I love the way you turn to me when you're half awake in the morning to pull me against you again so that the naked length of your body lies against the naked length of mine. I love the heat and smoothness of that spot in the hollow of your hip.

I want you to kiss me, hard, and wrap your hands in my hair. I love it when you kiss me, hard and hot, until I can't stand it anymore.

I love to rest on your chest and feel your voice against my cheek as your hands run over me.

I want to sleep with your arms around me and wake the same way.

One of those Couples

2005-09-21T19:51:00.000-07:00

I saw a couple walking down the street today.

I've had an exhausting day. Classes I don't like, teachers I like less and a constant nagging headache for reasons unknown. I'm also in a long distance relationship. I have been for almost a year. So while I love my Muffin ridiculously, I was still going home to an empty apartment.
This couple - middle aged, over weight guy; trim, proffesional blonde - was holding hands.
They were so happy to be together. I was happy to see them together.

Long distance drives me slightly mental most of the time. I want what I want when I want it, which is usually now.

I'm told I have a problem with instant gratification.