Forgive me; I wrote this blog on paper (old school) on the bus on the way home from work a couple of days ago...so, it's already out of date. But here you go, anyways.
I feel spun. Totally dizzy. Ever have a day that's just so beyond good- and none of it your own doing, like "I went to Disneyworld and thus had a good time", but an unintentionally great day, like "I tripped on a diamond on my way to work this morning" type of day. I just had one of those.
It started out normal. Then I got a call to go to one of the marketing managers' offices. We talked about a job for me. Then I talked to another mm- about a job for me. Then I talked to a third mm, who'd talked to an editor about me, for a job. Then I got called back to the first mm's office for a 'follow up', that included lines like "Your salary will be..." "You get full benefits and bonus...", and, "Your start date is..."
YAY!
Then, (like that's not enough), the prez of the division walked into my cubie at the end of the day, and asked me if I could help him with something. (This is a guy I never have contact with, he's so far above me. I didn't know he knew my name.) He leads me into his offie, sits down at his computer and says "I messed up my font, can you fix it?"
For a moment, the voice in my head is like, (dripping sarcasm) 'No, why would you think *I* could do that?' But then I saw what it was he'd done, and I totally fixed it. For the prez!
And I'll go on, cause there's just so many reasons why life is great right now. Like, guess what I'm typing this on right now? My new compy.
Yeah, the brother came over a couple of weeks ago and tried to reformat my computer, and it laughed at him and then lost it's brain. Within the same day, he had convinced me (and helped me) to order a brand-spankin-new computer! (You know my brother; the one who can talk a cat into water.) Now my new computer is here and it's wonderful! Its fast and un-bulky and shiny...I feel a little guilty, cause my old monitor was sort-of a birthday present from my aunt. But I used it and loved it well, plus it was kind of huge, and if I ever move my butt out of my mother's house, this new one will be much easier to move.
Also, last weekend the brother came over and he and Mom and I went kayaking, which I'd never done before, and it was very fun. Relaxing and natureful in the middle of Toronto; we saw herons and cormorants and ducks and minnows and dead carp and blackflies and lost tennis balls and shopping carts and a subway train. Then we went home and inhaled a pizza.
Anyways, I can think of a bunch more good things right now, but this is getting kind of long, and I've gotta go. Hope you're all doing great, too!
Friday, August 25, 2006
Friday, August 11, 2006
Life keeps getting in the way of beading
I don't really know why (it wasn't a deliberate act on my part), but in the past three weeks or so, every new jobn posting at work has looked really good to me- so I've applied. Its a good thing, ostensibly, except that three in three weeks (and all ther interviews are, like, now) is making it seem like I'm kind of eager to get out of there (except they're all positions within the company, so that's not exactly true). All I know is, work right now is busy, and therefore stressful, and I pretty much don't have time for all these interviews.
Except that they're a great excuse for buying new clothes. Which is great, except that my whole plans for yesterday were to park myself at this great beadstore I found (not as good as Deb's, but nothing is) and bead for hours at their 'free bead' session (basically just a bunch of beaders getting together). Its nice cause you get to meet new people, share techniques, show off your work, and get ideas for new stuff. But instead I got an interview scheduled for the next day, and had to forego beading in lieu of interview prep. Not that I'm complaining about having an interview- I just really wanted to bead.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get dressed- I have an interview!
Except that they're a great excuse for buying new clothes. Which is great, except that my whole plans for yesterday were to park myself at this great beadstore I found (not as good as Deb's, but nothing is) and bead for hours at their 'free bead' session (basically just a bunch of beaders getting together). Its nice cause you get to meet new people, share techniques, show off your work, and get ideas for new stuff. But instead I got an interview scheduled for the next day, and had to forego beading in lieu of interview prep. Not that I'm complaining about having an interview- I just really wanted to bead.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get dressed- I have an interview!
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Her as a mother can be an adventure
Know what's illegal in our building? Barbeques. Know what she has? A barbeque. Know what she did with it tonight? Made burgers. Then, an unintentional campfire, out of a bag of potting soil, that was next to...the propane tank! We finish our dinner, and she goes, "What's that smell?" Then, "Oh, shit", then, "Get me water!" "I need towels!"
Me: What did you do?
Her: I started a fire! Ssh!
Me: What do you mean, you started a fire, and also, 'ssh' does not logically follow the words 'I started a fire!'
Her: Just be quiet and get me water!
Yeah, so now I smell like a campfire (that has been put out, don't worry!), and she can't stop laughing about it.
"You know, I thought, when I put that stuff under the barbeque, that it might not be the best idea. I was right!" she says, and then accuses me of going off to blog in the middle of a crisis. The crisis was dealt with by the time I started this, though, and besides, as Lauren's blog states, Isaac Asimov once said, "If the doctor told me I had six minutes left to live...I'd type a little faster."
Me: What did you do?
Her: I started a fire! Ssh!
Me: What do you mean, you started a fire, and also, 'ssh' does not logically follow the words 'I started a fire!'
Her: Just be quiet and get me water!
Yeah, so now I smell like a campfire (that has been put out, don't worry!), and she can't stop laughing about it.
"You know, I thought, when I put that stuff under the barbeque, that it might not be the best idea. I was right!" she says, and then accuses me of going off to blog in the middle of a crisis. The crisis was dealt with by the time I started this, though, and besides, as Lauren's blog states, Isaac Asimov once said, "If the doctor told me I had six minutes left to live...I'd type a little faster."
Long-awaited update (and it's not up-to-date!)
I have three types of mornings at work: there’s the bright, happy morning with work that involves activity, and a clock that goes extra fast. These mornings, I have an English muffin, if I remember and have time to go to the caf.
Then, there are quiet mornings, which involve the usual English muffin, and a cold pop or juice. It wakes you up, especially in warm summer days.
Then, there are hot chocolate mornings. Even in summer, they arrive. They’re the days better spent in bed, the days when, given the chance, you *might* have had a shower and got ready for the day…around three.
Monday (Today) was a hot chocolate morning.
I feel I need to recover from the weekend. We went camping, though honestly that doesn’t really cover what we did and why it left me feeling roadkillesque.
There was the trek to Orangeville, to Laur and Kev’s shiny-new grown-up residence (have I mentioned that?), which in itself is a marathon of public transportation: a bus, a subway, a train, an inter-city bus, and then a car ride. We met Hugh at their place (he’s just made purchase of his first motorcycle, and wanted the practice the drive up would give him). Dinner, then a bunch of laying around, including a movie. Late night.
Saturday morning saw us moving slug-like, until we got on the road (oneish?) and drove two hours to the campground. The site was nice- trees and everything- but this was pretty bare-bones camping on our part- we had a tent. And that was about it, in terms of camping gear.
We bought a pie-iron. Know what that is? It’s an iron square, that flips open and fits two slices of bread and filling in it. You put it in the fire and it makes pie-like concoctions. Think rustic sandwich-maker. We had grilled cheese for two days!
That night we went down to the beach around midnight. It was incredible- I don’t really think of myself as a city girl, but I certainly felt like one then. There were so many stars! I forgot that you can actually see the Milky Way. Now I remember.
Sleeping was…well, is camping sleep ever very good? Use your imaginations.
And then there was a day on the beach (mucho sun), and a LONG way home, with A&W for dinner. Not the best choice, but we wanted something fast and…fast.
The upshot? I don’t want to eat anything but salad for a week.
There’s a way to blog through email. I have to look into that. I keep thinking about stuff that happens and thinking “I’ll blog that”, and then I get distracted, or busy, or whatever, and forget about it. And then I feel guilty, which is not something I want from my blog.
This has been one busy summer, but it has definitely been a summer (there have been years when the friends we so spread out that we rarely (if ever) saw each other, and the only thing (it felt like) I did was work. Those were not summers. Those were days with a hot commute, and you enjoy none of it. But this summer is good, with beach days and 48 hour parties and, believe it or not, baseball games (the brother took me! It was fun).
But that doesn’t mean that this summer’s been nothing but wildness. Work is okay. They put me back down to part-time hours (for budget reasons; I’m still doing well there). I don’t like the lack of hours to get stuff done, and I’m definitely disappointed with the less money thing, but I’m not really railing against the ‘Fridays off’ thing as much as I could be. As for the whole deal with doing something other than being an intern? Well, as most already know, it’s pretty obvious I never went for that Calgary thing; it just wasn’t right, either the timing or the place or something amorphous and ephemeral that I couldn’t put my finger on, but that was there. My instincts haven’t steered me wrong before, so I trust them.
I have, however, put my name in the hat for another position. In BC.
Yeah, I know. I doubt I’ll get it- there’s lots of competition to go out there, and I’ve got to be the most inexperienced applicant there is, but once I thought about applying for it, things just kind of rolled that way, which is usually a good sign for me. Mom went out there last year, and when she came back all she said was “You’d love it out there; it’s where you belong.”
Then, there are quiet mornings, which involve the usual English muffin, and a cold pop or juice. It wakes you up, especially in warm summer days.
Then, there are hot chocolate mornings. Even in summer, they arrive. They’re the days better spent in bed, the days when, given the chance, you *might* have had a shower and got ready for the day…around three.
Monday (Today) was a hot chocolate morning.
I feel I need to recover from the weekend. We went camping, though honestly that doesn’t really cover what we did and why it left me feeling roadkillesque.
There was the trek to Orangeville, to Laur and Kev’s shiny-new grown-up residence (have I mentioned that?), which in itself is a marathon of public transportation: a bus, a subway, a train, an inter-city bus, and then a car ride. We met Hugh at their place (he’s just made purchase of his first motorcycle, and wanted the practice the drive up would give him). Dinner, then a bunch of laying around, including a movie. Late night.
Saturday morning saw us moving slug-like, until we got on the road (oneish?) and drove two hours to the campground. The site was nice- trees and everything- but this was pretty bare-bones camping on our part- we had a tent. And that was about it, in terms of camping gear.
We bought a pie-iron. Know what that is? It’s an iron square, that flips open and fits two slices of bread and filling in it. You put it in the fire and it makes pie-like concoctions. Think rustic sandwich-maker. We had grilled cheese for two days!
That night we went down to the beach around midnight. It was incredible- I don’t really think of myself as a city girl, but I certainly felt like one then. There were so many stars! I forgot that you can actually see the Milky Way. Now I remember.
Sleeping was…well, is camping sleep ever very good? Use your imaginations.
And then there was a day on the beach (mucho sun), and a LONG way home, with A&W for dinner. Not the best choice, but we wanted something fast and…fast.
The upshot? I don’t want to eat anything but salad for a week.
There’s a way to blog through email. I have to look into that. I keep thinking about stuff that happens and thinking “I’ll blog that”, and then I get distracted, or busy, or whatever, and forget about it. And then I feel guilty, which is not something I want from my blog.
This has been one busy summer, but it has definitely been a summer (there have been years when the friends we so spread out that we rarely (if ever) saw each other, and the only thing (it felt like) I did was work. Those were not summers. Those were days with a hot commute, and you enjoy none of it. But this summer is good, with beach days and 48 hour parties and, believe it or not, baseball games (the brother took me! It was fun).
But that doesn’t mean that this summer’s been nothing but wildness. Work is okay. They put me back down to part-time hours (for budget reasons; I’m still doing well there). I don’t like the lack of hours to get stuff done, and I’m definitely disappointed with the less money thing, but I’m not really railing against the ‘Fridays off’ thing as much as I could be. As for the whole deal with doing something other than being an intern? Well, as most already know, it’s pretty obvious I never went for that Calgary thing; it just wasn’t right, either the timing or the place or something amorphous and ephemeral that I couldn’t put my finger on, but that was there. My instincts haven’t steered me wrong before, so I trust them.
I have, however, put my name in the hat for another position. In BC.
Yeah, I know. I doubt I’ll get it- there’s lots of competition to go out there, and I’ve got to be the most inexperienced applicant there is, but once I thought about applying for it, things just kind of rolled that way, which is usually a good sign for me. Mom went out there last year, and when she came back all she said was “You’d love it out there; it’s where you belong.”
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Princess and the pea
Today, I spent more money, in one day, than I ever have before in my life.
No, seriously- I've paid for places to live that cost me less than what I spent today.
I had to call the bank and get them to raise my limit (for the record, the bank is very helpful with that, and quick too!)
I bought a bed. And shoes, but the big thing was the bed.
Hooray, I have a new bed! It's gigantic and fluffy and brand-spankin-new and mine-all-mine and I'm happy and proud (and a little jittery about spending lots of my money, cause it's kind of precious stuff, and I don't have oodles of it).
But I'm glad I did it.
Bed shopping has got to be one of the most rediculous things you can do in public, legally.
You just walk into the middle of a store and lie down repeatedly. You bounce and you twist, and you make Odalisque poses and you say things like "Mushy isn't good, but I like the one with the bumpies" or "This one is too sinkey", while Mom prattles on about back support. Forget back support; I'm sleeping on cloud nine! (Maybe I'll name my new bed that, get a little sign for it...)
And the cats'll be happy.
Too bad I can't just put a kaibosh (sp?) on all spenditures from now on to let my wallet recover; I've gotta buy new sheets! And covers, and pillow cases, and more pillows...
And I think I'm going to get out my green beads, and bead myself a little green pea, to put underneath the mattress- for luck.
No, seriously- I've paid for places to live that cost me less than what I spent today.
I had to call the bank and get them to raise my limit (for the record, the bank is very helpful with that, and quick too!)
I bought a bed. And shoes, but the big thing was the bed.
Hooray, I have a new bed! It's gigantic and fluffy and brand-spankin-new and mine-all-mine and I'm happy and proud (and a little jittery about spending lots of my money, cause it's kind of precious stuff, and I don't have oodles of it).
But I'm glad I did it.
Bed shopping has got to be one of the most rediculous things you can do in public, legally.
You just walk into the middle of a store and lie down repeatedly. You bounce and you twist, and you make Odalisque poses and you say things like "Mushy isn't good, but I like the one with the bumpies" or "This one is too sinkey", while Mom prattles on about back support. Forget back support; I'm sleeping on cloud nine! (Maybe I'll name my new bed that, get a little sign for it...)
And the cats'll be happy.
Too bad I can't just put a kaibosh (sp?) on all spenditures from now on to let my wallet recover; I've gotta buy new sheets! And covers, and pillow cases, and more pillows...
And I think I'm going to get out my green beads, and bead myself a little green pea, to put underneath the mattress- for luck.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
The world is one intimidating oyster
Okay, so I just (read: Tuesday evening) got back from a business trip to Montreal that my company sent me on. Yes, yes, it’s terribly cool that an intern got flown to Montreal, put up in one swank of a hotel (I’ve decided that swank can be a noun if I want it to), and wined-and-dined on the company dollar.
Speaking of which, man, was that food good. Montrealers and business people sure do know how to eat! Even the wine was good, and for me, that’s saying something.
But the thing to pay attention to here is, I was eating with the big businessman, namely my boss’s boss, the VP of marketing.
And what did we talk about? Well, among other things, what I was going to do post-internship.
Now, it isn’t like this snuck up on me. I knew this dinner would happen, I knew this is what we would talk about. I even knew what I was going to say.
See, my boss is a coordinator. She’s already said that I’m working ‘above an intern; you’re doing the job of a coordinator’. And frankly, that suits me just fine. My ideal was, come end-of-internship, change my title, and my pay, and leave everything else alone. I can be Bethany the marketing coordinator, in my familiar desk with the good locale, doing the job I know, and am good at, and like.
So this is what I say. I say, “I like marketing. I’d like to stay.”
And he says “What about sales?”
I try to say no politely. I think I need practice with saying no politely. Not that I wasn’t polite. I said something about wanting to be stationary for a while, having not had roots (or, for that matter, even my own pot of soil) for, like, ever. (If you follow my metaphor, that is. Lauren says I use too many of these, and that they’re often incomprehensible. She claims the need for a metaphortress to guard herself in.)
But yeah, so I’m like, ‘sales isn’t for me’, in different words, of course.
But see, my boss, he’s a salesman. And I think he kind of wants to sell me on sales. So he starts ‘selling’. (And it goes without saying how cool it is to have the big boss trying to talk you into a position.)
The money- wow.
The perks- wow.
The moving to somewhere I’ve never been- wow.
The never being home- ow.
The stress- ow.
And yes, I’m, as I said myself, fairly rootless. And it’s true that I own, like, next to nothing, and could pick up an move with about 30 seconds’ thought. But do I want to? I don’t really feel done with Toronto yet.
And sales sounds (and as far as I can tell, is) fairly exciting. But do I like exciting that much?
It may paint me with the fuddy-duddy brush to say so, but I kind of like the quiet life. I like sitting in front of the television and beading for hours. I like laying about on a Sunday with nothing to do, cause you’ve got time to do those errands later. I like staying in bed long hours after waking up, with the very very good excuse that I’m doing it ‘because I can’.
On the other hand, debt has a stress all its own. And sales is (pretty undoubtedly) where the money is. It would be good to get rid of those student loans before I hit my forties.
And it’s pretty damn cool to have my boss’s boss talking to me about moving not just into a full time place in the company, but way up there on the chain. You know what sales reps who are done being out in the field do? They become marketing managers. And marketing managers become VP’s. And then they do whatever they want, cause they’re just that impressive.
And yet, and yet.
There’s still the thought of Britain that haunts me (literally like a spectre of a Union Jack that floats though my brain at odd moments). If I’m so rootless that sales seems such a possibility, then why do I hesitate with the idea of moving over there? Well, for one, it feels like I’d be abandoning my student loan, which is ridiculous and I know it, I could pay that from England just as easily as I could from here, but part of me still wants to feel FREE…
And I haven’t even tried editorial yet. I don’t want to do another internship after this one, really, I’m ready for the real-thing job now, but going into sales means going for that whole marketing career thing, and I’m still not sure I want that.
Also, I wonder what happened to the trade dream? (Real lit books, like you find in Chapters, not textbooks). That’s what I got into publishing for, wasn’t it? And, if I don’t even try to go there, am I following the money? That’s not like me…
See, I knew I was looped on this subject, and now I’m sitting here typing endlessly, and it’s painfully obvious how looped I am.
And there’s more. I was about to type that I need to talk to Lauren to help me figure all this out (she’s a touchstone), but she and Kev are leaving for the tropics in a couple of days. Good for them, but now I’m thinking of how Laur’s leaving for Australia in a remarkably short time, and that’s just one less root I have holding me..anywhere.
Mom’s the same.
Heck, Kev doesn’t even live in this city, and Hugh’s busy all the time and that’s only going to get worse. The few times he does get off, he likes to go traveling- I’d probably see more of him if he was coming to visit me somewhere else than if we were still living in the same city.
So it comes down to a position, that pays well, comes with som e damn good perks, on my very own silver platter...but, with a lifestyle that I'm not sure is what I want, with a lot of risk of nothing going the least bit well, and with a choice that doesn't really feel like mine.
The world is my oyster, but I don't even know if I like oysters.
Speaking of which, man, was that food good. Montrealers and business people sure do know how to eat! Even the wine was good, and for me, that’s saying something.
But the thing to pay attention to here is, I was eating with the big businessman, namely my boss’s boss, the VP of marketing.
And what did we talk about? Well, among other things, what I was going to do post-internship.
Now, it isn’t like this snuck up on me. I knew this dinner would happen, I knew this is what we would talk about. I even knew what I was going to say.
See, my boss is a coordinator. She’s already said that I’m working ‘above an intern; you’re doing the job of a coordinator’. And frankly, that suits me just fine. My ideal was, come end-of-internship, change my title, and my pay, and leave everything else alone. I can be Bethany the marketing coordinator, in my familiar desk with the good locale, doing the job I know, and am good at, and like.
So this is what I say. I say, “I like marketing. I’d like to stay.”
And he says “What about sales?”
I try to say no politely. I think I need practice with saying no politely. Not that I wasn’t polite. I said something about wanting to be stationary for a while, having not had roots (or, for that matter, even my own pot of soil) for, like, ever. (If you follow my metaphor, that is. Lauren says I use too many of these, and that they’re often incomprehensible. She claims the need for a metaphortress to guard herself in.)
But yeah, so I’m like, ‘sales isn’t for me’, in different words, of course.
But see, my boss, he’s a salesman. And I think he kind of wants to sell me on sales. So he starts ‘selling’. (And it goes without saying how cool it is to have the big boss trying to talk you into a position.)
The money- wow.
The perks- wow.
The moving to somewhere I’ve never been- wow.
The never being home- ow.
The stress- ow.
And yes, I’m, as I said myself, fairly rootless. And it’s true that I own, like, next to nothing, and could pick up an move with about 30 seconds’ thought. But do I want to? I don’t really feel done with Toronto yet.
And sales sounds (and as far as I can tell, is) fairly exciting. But do I like exciting that much?
It may paint me with the fuddy-duddy brush to say so, but I kind of like the quiet life. I like sitting in front of the television and beading for hours. I like laying about on a Sunday with nothing to do, cause you’ve got time to do those errands later. I like staying in bed long hours after waking up, with the very very good excuse that I’m doing it ‘because I can’.
On the other hand, debt has a stress all its own. And sales is (pretty undoubtedly) where the money is. It would be good to get rid of those student loans before I hit my forties.
And it’s pretty damn cool to have my boss’s boss talking to me about moving not just into a full time place in the company, but way up there on the chain. You know what sales reps who are done being out in the field do? They become marketing managers. And marketing managers become VP’s. And then they do whatever they want, cause they’re just that impressive.
And yet, and yet.
There’s still the thought of Britain that haunts me (literally like a spectre of a Union Jack that floats though my brain at odd moments). If I’m so rootless that sales seems such a possibility, then why do I hesitate with the idea of moving over there? Well, for one, it feels like I’d be abandoning my student loan, which is ridiculous and I know it, I could pay that from England just as easily as I could from here, but part of me still wants to feel FREE…
And I haven’t even tried editorial yet. I don’t want to do another internship after this one, really, I’m ready for the real-thing job now, but going into sales means going for that whole marketing career thing, and I’m still not sure I want that.
Also, I wonder what happened to the trade dream? (Real lit books, like you find in Chapters, not textbooks). That’s what I got into publishing for, wasn’t it? And, if I don’t even try to go there, am I following the money? That’s not like me…
See, I knew I was looped on this subject, and now I’m sitting here typing endlessly, and it’s painfully obvious how looped I am.
And there’s more. I was about to type that I need to talk to Lauren to help me figure all this out (she’s a touchstone), but she and Kev are leaving for the tropics in a couple of days. Good for them, but now I’m thinking of how Laur’s leaving for Australia in a remarkably short time, and that’s just one less root I have holding me..anywhere.
Mom’s the same.
Heck, Kev doesn’t even live in this city, and Hugh’s busy all the time and that’s only going to get worse. The few times he does get off, he likes to go traveling- I’d probably see more of him if he was coming to visit me somewhere else than if we were still living in the same city.
So it comes down to a position, that pays well, comes with som e damn good perks, on my very own silver platter...but, with a lifestyle that I'm not sure is what I want, with a lot of risk of nothing going the least bit well, and with a choice that doesn't really feel like mine.
The world is my oyster, but I don't even know if I like oysters.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Contacts, contact, cat, and coat
I can’t decide whether this is a good thing or a bad thing; you wear glasses every single day, and it’s fine. Then one day (for very little reason), you wear contacts…and nobody notices. What I can’t decide is, does that mean your glasses are particularly good, that they allow your face to be focused upon and don’t distract others, or is it bad, that your frames do nothing for you? Would it be better to keep wearing them, since the added hassle of contacts seems to hardly be worth it, if wearing the contacts makes so little difference?
I can’t decide whether to feel pleased or put out.
That was yesterday. Yesterday was also the day that Mom and I had the brother over for dinner (breakfast for dinner; ham and eggs and hashbrowns and beans…mmm…). I should mention (so that this makes sense), that for the lazy everyday, Mom and I eat at the coffee table in the living room, in front of the tv (yeah, we’re unmannered plebes- bite me). And three around that table is a lot more crowded than two. Result? My plate sliding off the beveled edge and flipping over before hitting the floor. Do you have any idea how much mess that makes? Or how disappointing that is? It started out so tasty…
And then my snobby-assed cat stuck his nose up at it. We tried six times, he was disinterested. He stole the leftover ham off Mom’s plate and attacked that, he licked the brother’s plate clean. He wouldn’t touch mine. Jerk.
And we spent the night talking about what was new, including the plans Mom has to go back out west at the end of the summer. She keeps being so conflicted; she so excited about going, but at the same time she keeps stopping herself and saying ‘but this can’t continue this way…’ I get her conflictedness, cause she’s right, but she’s happy too. So boo to confusion, do what feels good (my everlasting philosophy).
Speaking of doing what is good and not always ideal, I bought (another) coat. Long ago (read: highschool), I had an addiction to buying coats that was less than good. I think I had five. Or six. For one season.
Anyway, I broke myself of that habit, mainly by refusing to buy a coat, any coat, for, like, a couple of years. And by then none of the old ones fit, but I was averse to buying a new one, and then it was a chore…
I’ve wandered off track here. My story is, I needed (desperately) a coat for spring, and couldn’t find anything nice or well-fitting. I didn’t think my demands were that bad- I didn’t want black, I didn’t want a trench, I didn’t want a belt, and I didn’t want to pay more than a certain amount (a big certain amount; I was frustrated, and that drives up what I’m willing to pay) for it. (This was weeks ago, btw). What did I end up getting? A short, black, trench with a belt. That I like ok. It did the job.
And now the weather is gorgeous, with tons of sun, and every afternoon is so hot that you can’t wear a coat. A coat is definitely no longer what I need.
So, of course, I found a beautiful, perfect, everything-I-wanted coat, and (unwisely, pointlessly, foolishly, indulgently) bought it. I love it. It’s green and white and long…it looks a little more like a Lauren coat than a me coat, and I want her to try it on, but she can’t have it.
It’s mine, as impractical as it is. And it will stay in that closet as long as it bloody-well has to, until I get to wear it. Even if I am forty by then.
I can’t decide whether to feel pleased or put out.
That was yesterday. Yesterday was also the day that Mom and I had the brother over for dinner (breakfast for dinner; ham and eggs and hashbrowns and beans…mmm…). I should mention (so that this makes sense), that for the lazy everyday, Mom and I eat at the coffee table in the living room, in front of the tv (yeah, we’re unmannered plebes- bite me). And three around that table is a lot more crowded than two. Result? My plate sliding off the beveled edge and flipping over before hitting the floor. Do you have any idea how much mess that makes? Or how disappointing that is? It started out so tasty…
And then my snobby-assed cat stuck his nose up at it. We tried six times, he was disinterested. He stole the leftover ham off Mom’s plate and attacked that, he licked the brother’s plate clean. He wouldn’t touch mine. Jerk.
And we spent the night talking about what was new, including the plans Mom has to go back out west at the end of the summer. She keeps being so conflicted; she so excited about going, but at the same time she keeps stopping herself and saying ‘but this can’t continue this way…’ I get her conflictedness, cause she’s right, but she’s happy too. So boo to confusion, do what feels good (my everlasting philosophy).
Speaking of doing what is good and not always ideal, I bought (another) coat. Long ago (read: highschool), I had an addiction to buying coats that was less than good. I think I had five. Or six. For one season.
Anyway, I broke myself of that habit, mainly by refusing to buy a coat, any coat, for, like, a couple of years. And by then none of the old ones fit, but I was averse to buying a new one, and then it was a chore…
I’ve wandered off track here. My story is, I needed (desperately) a coat for spring, and couldn’t find anything nice or well-fitting. I didn’t think my demands were that bad- I didn’t want black, I didn’t want a trench, I didn’t want a belt, and I didn’t want to pay more than a certain amount (a big certain amount; I was frustrated, and that drives up what I’m willing to pay) for it. (This was weeks ago, btw). What did I end up getting? A short, black, trench with a belt. That I like ok. It did the job.
And now the weather is gorgeous, with tons of sun, and every afternoon is so hot that you can’t wear a coat. A coat is definitely no longer what I need.
So, of course, I found a beautiful, perfect, everything-I-wanted coat, and (unwisely, pointlessly, foolishly, indulgently) bought it. I love it. It’s green and white and long…it looks a little more like a Lauren coat than a me coat, and I want her to try it on, but she can’t have it.
It’s mine, as impractical as it is. And it will stay in that closet as long as it bloody-well has to, until I get to wear it. Even if I am forty by then.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Oh joyous day, kaloo, kalay!
My shopping drought seems to be over! I’ve been to three malls in three days, and I’ve got a ton a great stuff (purses and skirts and hats, oh my!). I adore spending money. Hard-earned money that I’ve willingly given up (from Vivah) to spare myself further aggravation. Yes, folks, as of a week today, my tenure at the jewelry store is through. Huzzah!
Actually, everyone’s had a good week this week. Lauren got accepted to teacher’s college, and has decided to fly away to Australia for a year, come February (cry, cry), and her program includes a short practical placement in Africa, which just couldn’t be any cooler (Bite your tongue- I can hear that bad pun about the weather in Africa that you’re dying to give voice to. Squash the voice, lest ye be judged, and found nerdly.)
Also, Laur recently did a job (she works for a company that does graphic design for ads and stuff) for the Royal Ontario Museum, for some symposium thingie on dining (of all things), and they gave her free tickets to the first night of the symposium, and she took me, and the keynote speaker turned out to be one of my old art history profs from Mac! She did a lecture on dining in the Roman ages, complete with slides, that was exactly like being back at school. It was very neat.
And Hugh and Lisa were (very randomly) offered a free movie at one of the most expensive Silvercity’s (great big movie theatre) in the city, and it was all about gymnastics (Lisa’s a gymnast, so- appropriate!), and Mom and I (after one good shopping blitz on Friday after work) went out for dinner, where we got great service from a cute waiter, who gave us three entrees (Mom’s first one was disappointing), and then they asked us some questions and gave us everything for free (how cool is that?).
And other big things have been happening. Jerry recently visited. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned Jerry, or maybe I have, but only in passing. See, the whole Jerry thing started right around the time that Mom was getting all up-in-arms over my putting stuff about her on here, and I was pretty sure I’d lose my head if I mentioned him online, so I trod lightly.
But here come the stompin’ boots!
Okay, so for the record… Jerry and Mom dated in highschool (think flowerpower), and then left their hometown and went separate ways. This was forever ago, and now they’re back together. It’s a totally strange, but kind of simple-in-a-full-circle kind of way. Meh. She’s happy, the details are moo (a cow’s opinion).
And he came to visit! (This is a big deal- Jerry lives on the other side of the country, and hey, it’s a big country.) He was nervous about meeting the brother- that was cute. And he’s, like, freaky smart. He’s a good guy. (Jerry, don’t let this go to your head, though).
So, Mom was all ridiculous for a couple of weeks (lol). It sounds like they had a good time.
And what has she done since he left? She cut off all her hair. (Had it cut off by a stylist, that is. It wasn’t some freaky scissor-fest a la Royal Tenenbaums). Very risky, but I think it’s good.
What else is new? OH! Work is totally awesome (at the publishing place). They’re sending me to Montreal! I get to go to fly up all by myself (I sound like a four year old when I say that, don’t I?), and go to a conference, and have dinner with the boss and stuff! Plus, I got to book my own flight times, so I totally get some free time, which is cool cause I’ve never been to Montreal, and the company is paying (but it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong or anything- they approved it!). I’m so freakin’ excited!
Anyways, I think that’s all I can think of for now. I’ve been checking out this site called the Brick Testament that Jerry told me about, but honestly I have yet to get through it, or form a solid opinion of it, so I’ll hold off comment till later. Hope everyone’s week’s been good like ours, even if it rained.
Actually, everyone’s had a good week this week. Lauren got accepted to teacher’s college, and has decided to fly away to Australia for a year, come February (cry, cry), and her program includes a short practical placement in Africa, which just couldn’t be any cooler (Bite your tongue- I can hear that bad pun about the weather in Africa that you’re dying to give voice to. Squash the voice, lest ye be judged, and found nerdly.)
Also, Laur recently did a job (she works for a company that does graphic design for ads and stuff) for the Royal Ontario Museum, for some symposium thingie on dining (of all things), and they gave her free tickets to the first night of the symposium, and she took me, and the keynote speaker turned out to be one of my old art history profs from Mac! She did a lecture on dining in the Roman ages, complete with slides, that was exactly like being back at school. It was very neat.
And Hugh and Lisa were (very randomly) offered a free movie at one of the most expensive Silvercity’s (great big movie theatre) in the city, and it was all about gymnastics (Lisa’s a gymnast, so- appropriate!), and Mom and I (after one good shopping blitz on Friday after work) went out for dinner, where we got great service from a cute waiter, who gave us three entrees (Mom’s first one was disappointing), and then they asked us some questions and gave us everything for free (how cool is that?).
And other big things have been happening. Jerry recently visited. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned Jerry, or maybe I have, but only in passing. See, the whole Jerry thing started right around the time that Mom was getting all up-in-arms over my putting stuff about her on here, and I was pretty sure I’d lose my head if I mentioned him online, so I trod lightly.
But here come the stompin’ boots!
Okay, so for the record… Jerry and Mom dated in highschool (think flowerpower), and then left their hometown and went separate ways. This was forever ago, and now they’re back together. It’s a totally strange, but kind of simple-in-a-full-circle kind of way. Meh. She’s happy, the details are moo (a cow’s opinion).
And he came to visit! (This is a big deal- Jerry lives on the other side of the country, and hey, it’s a big country.) He was nervous about meeting the brother- that was cute. And he’s, like, freaky smart. He’s a good guy. (Jerry, don’t let this go to your head, though).
So, Mom was all ridiculous for a couple of weeks (lol). It sounds like they had a good time.
And what has she done since he left? She cut off all her hair. (Had it cut off by a stylist, that is. It wasn’t some freaky scissor-fest a la Royal Tenenbaums). Very risky, but I think it’s good.
What else is new? OH! Work is totally awesome (at the publishing place). They’re sending me to Montreal! I get to go to fly up all by myself (I sound like a four year old when I say that, don’t I?), and go to a conference, and have dinner with the boss and stuff! Plus, I got to book my own flight times, so I totally get some free time, which is cool cause I’ve never been to Montreal, and the company is paying (but it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong or anything- they approved it!). I’m so freakin’ excited!
Anyways, I think that’s all I can think of for now. I’ve been checking out this site called the Brick Testament that Jerry told me about, but honestly I have yet to get through it, or form a solid opinion of it, so I’ll hold off comment till later. Hope everyone’s week’s been good like ours, even if it rained.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
The winds of change are a-blowin’
I’m going to quit my job at the jewelry store, I think.
I’m pretty sure.
I’ll know by Saturday.
I hate it there. I ranted to Lauren, wanna see?
God, I hope you check your email today.
I have been thinking, for three days, of quitting my job (at Vivah). I'm sick of their corporate bs, managers who don't know what 'management' means (or 'corporate responsibility', or 'responsibility' at all, or 'equality'...)
And the pay sucks ass and I'm barely making anything there and I'm sick of it.
But, it's not like my internship is stable or long-lasting or secure or anything. And I liked having a backup.
But then, jobs like the jewelry store are all over the place, and if I really needed another I could probably find one really easily, in a better mall, with a better company.
At the very least, it couldn't be worse.
Yeah, I know I haven't asked you anything yet, and I'm not really looking for you to tell me what to do here. I know this is my decision- I'm just working through it, I guess.
But the thing is, I have a shift on saturday, and theres some bs 'staff meeting' during it (and it's a good thing I'm aready scheduled, cause if I had to come in for that on my own time...), and the manager will be there, and I'm really thinking it's the best time to hand her my letter of resignation. I don't know why I have this feeling of 'now or never', but I do.
And I have no idea what to do. The fact that this job isn't a lot of effort is still true...but everyone else moves on, and I'm the only one who hasn't, and it's rediculous that I'm working at an internship that pays a third more than the manager makes at Vivah, and I'm still dealing with their crap.
And I know I'm rambling.
I've never left a job for a reason other than I was moving away for school. Except once, I left the ice cream place for Nordia. But that was a lot more money, and a permanent job, and a long time ago, when the only thing my money was going towards was candy and magazines.
Now I have bills and stuff.
Am I asking you for backbone? Is that what this email is about?
See, even I don't know.
Yeah, so that’s what I ranted to Lauren. And it’s true, about my ‘now or never’ feeling. I’m not sure where this idea came from, but I just know that if I’m not done with that place, officially, by Saturday, that I just won’t leave.
I want to leave, that much of my scattered thoughts have been nailed down. And I’m really not getting anything out of it anymore. And I’ve been there longer than anyone else, and my sales are good, but they neither notice, nor care.
My manager is nineteen, and was hired as a seller four months ago. And they made her a manager. I can't even ask for a reccomendation from that place because there's no one whose been there as long as I have, and no one I'd want one from anyways. Heck, I'm the oldest one there!
Mom says (truthfully and rightly) (is rightly a word?) that jobs like that are a dime a dozen. If I need another one later I can get one.
Hopefully I won’t have to. I love my publishing job, and want to stay in it (or at least have the option to) for the next thirty years.
But as for the jewelry store? Stick a fork in me, I’m done.
I’m pretty sure.
I’ll know by Saturday.
I hate it there. I ranted to Lauren, wanna see?
God, I hope you check your email today.
I have been thinking, for three days, of quitting my job (at Vivah). I'm sick of their corporate bs, managers who don't know what 'management' means (or 'corporate responsibility', or 'responsibility' at all, or 'equality'...)
And the pay sucks ass and I'm barely making anything there and I'm sick of it.
But, it's not like my internship is stable or long-lasting or secure or anything. And I liked having a backup.
But then, jobs like the jewelry store are all over the place, and if I really needed another I could probably find one really easily, in a better mall, with a better company.
At the very least, it couldn't be worse.
Yeah, I know I haven't asked you anything yet, and I'm not really looking for you to tell me what to do here. I know this is my decision- I'm just working through it, I guess.
But the thing is, I have a shift on saturday, and theres some bs 'staff meeting' during it (and it's a good thing I'm aready scheduled, cause if I had to come in for that on my own time...), and the manager will be there, and I'm really thinking it's the best time to hand her my letter of resignation. I don't know why I have this feeling of 'now or never', but I do.
And I have no idea what to do. The fact that this job isn't a lot of effort is still true...but everyone else moves on, and I'm the only one who hasn't, and it's rediculous that I'm working at an internship that pays a third more than the manager makes at Vivah, and I'm still dealing with their crap.
And I know I'm rambling.
I've never left a job for a reason other than I was moving away for school. Except once, I left the ice cream place for Nordia. But that was a lot more money, and a permanent job, and a long time ago, when the only thing my money was going towards was candy and magazines.
Now I have bills and stuff.
Am I asking you for backbone? Is that what this email is about?
See, even I don't know.
Yeah, so that’s what I ranted to Lauren. And it’s true, about my ‘now or never’ feeling. I’m not sure where this idea came from, but I just know that if I’m not done with that place, officially, by Saturday, that I just won’t leave.
I want to leave, that much of my scattered thoughts have been nailed down. And I’m really not getting anything out of it anymore. And I’ve been there longer than anyone else, and my sales are good, but they neither notice, nor care.
My manager is nineteen, and was hired as a seller four months ago. And they made her a manager. I can't even ask for a reccomendation from that place because there's no one whose been there as long as I have, and no one I'd want one from anyways. Heck, I'm the oldest one there!
Mom says (truthfully and rightly) (is rightly a word?) that jobs like that are a dime a dozen. If I need another one later I can get one.
Hopefully I won’t have to. I love my publishing job, and want to stay in it (or at least have the option to) for the next thirty years.
But as for the jewelry store? Stick a fork in me, I’m done.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
No guilt (gilt, gelt...)
Gosh, it's been an eternity since I've blogged, and I hate feeling guilty about something that I actually really like doing. On the other hand, I'm aware of the fact that last year I would be writing almost every other day, and that averything that happened would have me working out phrasing in my head, itching for my keyboard. I think it's similar to a diary or journal; I have several of those, and I make a point of never feeling guilty about not writing in them, because I figure you write, especially about your life, when you need to (or at least, I do). That doesn't mean that when I write it's always a bad time, it's just a time when there's a lot going on, either in the world or in my head, and I need to get stuff down. But it still bugs me that I'm not blogging as much as I did. And it's a waste of time to promise to try and do better. I'll write when I write, I guess.
Stuff has been happening, though.
My job is going very well. I'm still an intern, but they've increased me to full-time hours (have I mentioned this already?), and they seem to like me and really like my work. They let me write the back cover copy (that info about the book that's on the back? Yeah, that.) And I got to make some marketing materials that were professionally designed and sent out, too...it sounds lame because it is, but it's still neat for me to be doing this stuff. For me it is, anyway.
And home is good. My room is cleaner than it's been in a while (still trying to figure out how that happened), and Mom's happy (I made juice come out her nose the other day). My aunt had a scare recently, but it sounds like everything is going to be fine (knock on wood) (do only Christians do that?). And I have been writing (just not here) (chagrin). Lauren and I had wanted to take a writing class, but neither of us had the money, so we decided to be independent together. We're both writing (or making an effort to), and evaluating and editing each other's stuff (we've done this for each other off-and-on for years, so we're really comfortable discussing our stuff with each other). It's interesting what comes out of it (even if Laur's stuff far outdoes my own- I love editing anyways), and it's good to be... not forced, but pushed into writing something, especially at a time when the words aren't really flowing (nor the impetus to make them do so). She makes me write something, which is good.
Tonight was fun. Laur came over and them the brother and Shad (his roommate) showed up, and Mom made a chicken and we all had dinner. We played Scrabble, and there must be a blue moon out tonight or something because (Laur's going to kill me for writing this) the boys won. Wow, that hurt to admit. It was the first time Shad had ever played (ooh, beginner's luck, that must have been the strange power affecting our game!), and my brother's first time winning. Good for you, bro. And Kevin showed up in time for pie. It was fun, but I think I'm going to buy Cranium sometime this week, cause it'll be better to have more to choose from than just Scrabble, and besides, that's the best game there is anyways.
And it'll be good to set out to buy something and actually be able to. My aunt Mer send me this great magnet: "There is money. Spend it, spend it; spend more;" from Merry Wives of Windsor, and my message to her is this: I'm trying! In three weeks I've been through (through, not to) four malls, and I have yet to make a purchase. The options out there suck right now. All I'm saying is, things had better improve, and soon, or so help me... (shakes fist)...
And here I shall end my tirade of the inconsequential, for though there's more to say, this is neither the time, nor the place. I will be back; I always am, and if I see you to your face before my words are updated here again (that Wives quote hath affected me), then I'll have much to say. Goodnight!
A/N: I may have lost that Scrabble game, but I am not completely shamefaced. The words cited and jaded (not to mention finery)were mine, they just didn't get into very good scoring places. So there. Yeah, yeah, I made the word pie, too, but whose counting? Hun?
Stuff has been happening, though.
My job is going very well. I'm still an intern, but they've increased me to full-time hours (have I mentioned this already?), and they seem to like me and really like my work. They let me write the back cover copy (that info about the book that's on the back? Yeah, that.) And I got to make some marketing materials that were professionally designed and sent out, too...it sounds lame because it is, but it's still neat for me to be doing this stuff. For me it is, anyway.
And home is good. My room is cleaner than it's been in a while (still trying to figure out how that happened), and Mom's happy (I made juice come out her nose the other day). My aunt had a scare recently, but it sounds like everything is going to be fine (knock on wood) (do only Christians do that?). And I have been writing (just not here) (chagrin). Lauren and I had wanted to take a writing class, but neither of us had the money, so we decided to be independent together. We're both writing (or making an effort to), and evaluating and editing each other's stuff (we've done this for each other off-and-on for years, so we're really comfortable discussing our stuff with each other). It's interesting what comes out of it (even if Laur's stuff far outdoes my own- I love editing anyways), and it's good to be... not forced, but pushed into writing something, especially at a time when the words aren't really flowing (nor the impetus to make them do so). She makes me write something, which is good.
Tonight was fun. Laur came over and them the brother and Shad (his roommate) showed up, and Mom made a chicken and we all had dinner. We played Scrabble, and there must be a blue moon out tonight or something because (Laur's going to kill me for writing this) the boys won. Wow, that hurt to admit. It was the first time Shad had ever played (ooh, beginner's luck, that must have been the strange power affecting our game!), and my brother's first time winning. Good for you, bro. And Kevin showed up in time for pie. It was fun, but I think I'm going to buy Cranium sometime this week, cause it'll be better to have more to choose from than just Scrabble, and besides, that's the best game there is anyways.
And it'll be good to set out to buy something and actually be able to. My aunt Mer send me this great magnet: "There is money. Spend it, spend it; spend more;" from Merry Wives of Windsor, and my message to her is this: I'm trying! In three weeks I've been through (through, not to) four malls, and I have yet to make a purchase. The options out there suck right now. All I'm saying is, things had better improve, and soon, or so help me... (shakes fist)...
And here I shall end my tirade of the inconsequential, for though there's more to say, this is neither the time, nor the place. I will be back; I always am, and if I see you to your face before my words are updated here again (that Wives quote hath affected me), then I'll have much to say. Goodnight!
A/N: I may have lost that Scrabble game, but I am not completely shamefaced. The words cited and jaded (not to mention finery)were mine, they just didn't get into very good scoring places. So there. Yeah, yeah, I made the word pie, too, but whose counting? Hun?
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Cold roses
Life is fucking fantastic.
I got a great job. It's and internship, and it's paid, and after just UNDER a month working there, they're promoting me to full-time. Not permanent, still an intern. But a FULL TIME intern. Yeah, I rock, and soon I will rule.
And, I'm still bumming it at the jewelry store on evenings and weekends, which makes me a tired girl, but also, hopefully, a rich one. (Not gonna happen.)
I love the office. I have office clothes and office shoes, and office people. They could market little plastic dolls of me; 'Corporate Bethany', new version on shelves today!, which is a thought I haven't had since my firends took me skiing last year, and 'Ski Bunny Bethany' made her first appearance. And even if I feel a little like a tigre wearing stripes when I'm there, they seem to like my spotted tigre. Did I mention I was getting promoted?
And all around me, people are UP! The brother just got a raise (way to go, and tres impressive, little brother), Laurie's made the decision to Teacher's College in New Zealand, the heavy that Hugh was dealing with turned out a little more perfect than anyone could have predicted, and during a slew (sp?) of birthdays (Laur, me, Kev in less than a week), I've actually got the chance to SEE MY FRIENDS, in the SAME ROOM, at the SAME TIME.
It really, really sucks that at this point in my life, that line is actually worthy of capital letters.
"What did you get for your birthday?" I hear you ask.
Boots, a little over three months ago. And a LOT of food, and a gift certificate that I haven't spent yet, tyvm. I was terribly pleased, and bloated. Three gourmet dinners in the space of about five days, and you'd swear you'll never eat again (except there's always room for chocolate).
Anyways, I get to hear about my promotion on Monday, get to go shopping with Laurie (hopefully) tomorrow (and it won't be a bust, like the last time), and I'm writing again, and things are coming up roses. Cold roses- it's snowing again.
I got a great job. It's and internship, and it's paid, and after just UNDER a month working there, they're promoting me to full-time. Not permanent, still an intern. But a FULL TIME intern. Yeah, I rock, and soon I will rule.
And, I'm still bumming it at the jewelry store on evenings and weekends, which makes me a tired girl, but also, hopefully, a rich one. (Not gonna happen.)
I love the office. I have office clothes and office shoes, and office people. They could market little plastic dolls of me; 'Corporate Bethany', new version on shelves today!, which is a thought I haven't had since my firends took me skiing last year, and 'Ski Bunny Bethany' made her first appearance. And even if I feel a little like a tigre wearing stripes when I'm there, they seem to like my spotted tigre. Did I mention I was getting promoted?
And all around me, people are UP! The brother just got a raise (way to go, and tres impressive, little brother), Laurie's made the decision to Teacher's College in New Zealand, the heavy that Hugh was dealing with turned out a little more perfect than anyone could have predicted, and during a slew (sp?) of birthdays (Laur, me, Kev in less than a week), I've actually got the chance to SEE MY FRIENDS, in the SAME ROOM, at the SAME TIME.
It really, really sucks that at this point in my life, that line is actually worthy of capital letters.
"What did you get for your birthday?" I hear you ask.
Boots, a little over three months ago. And a LOT of food, and a gift certificate that I haven't spent yet, tyvm. I was terribly pleased, and bloated. Three gourmet dinners in the space of about five days, and you'd swear you'll never eat again (except there's always room for chocolate).
Anyways, I get to hear about my promotion on Monday, get to go shopping with Laurie (hopefully) tomorrow (and it won't be a bust, like the last time), and I'm writing again, and things are coming up roses. Cold roses- it's snowing again.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Checkin in
I got a job (watch me do a jig). No, actually, I celebrated my job the BEST way (note for readers: "BEST" is to be read dripping with sarcasm); I got a job the same day I got a cold. A really nasty cold. Trust me, the best way to prepare for your first career-type impressive office job does not involve cold meds and tons of tissue. Not to say that I didn't go out shopping for new clothes...three times...
So, that's my big news, and what has been taking up my time for the past while. I start tomorrow, which I'm bot excited and nervous about. I hate the fact that I have to wake up at 6am. I really, really resent mornings. But hopefully all will go well- I'll tell you all about it later.
Other than that, nothing huge has happened lately. I got together with Lauren a couple of times this week, which is always nice- she's talking about doing teacher's college again. There was a time that that was my plan, too- now I'm glad I didn't do it. I knew back then that it wasn't for me.
I voted! It's not something I've done for a long time- I always felt really sheltered while I was at University- it was such a bubble of a world- that I didn't feel confident in making that kind of decision. Now I do. Not that it helped much. Anyone know I nice, quiet country I can move to for a few years?
And at some point, I HAVE to get back to Hamilton. I was talking to Shesh the other day (friend from Mac and my old job), and she totally (justifiably) got on my case for not being around. I want to plan one good weekend, where I can go, see Shesh, see Mark, visit the toy store, spend all my money at the bead store (MAN, do I miss that place), and eat at Mai Thai. I've eaten Thai food in countless locations by now, and that place is still, hands down, the best. If you live in Hamilton, GO THERE, it's on John I think. You must have the Cashew Chicken. Bet you're hungry now, hun?
Okay, so this blog was a little more scattered than most, but at least I got some words in. I would like to take a brief opportunity to send out a 'Hey ya' to my aunt, who has made me jealous by discovering the ferret tree (watch the newest Harry Potter movie again, you'll see it).
Now, I have to get to bed- I have a big day tomorrow.
So, that's my big news, and what has been taking up my time for the past while. I start tomorrow, which I'm bot excited and nervous about. I hate the fact that I have to wake up at 6am. I really, really resent mornings. But hopefully all will go well- I'll tell you all about it later.
Other than that, nothing huge has happened lately. I got together with Lauren a couple of times this week, which is always nice- she's talking about doing teacher's college again. There was a time that that was my plan, too- now I'm glad I didn't do it. I knew back then that it wasn't for me.
I voted! It's not something I've done for a long time- I always felt really sheltered while I was at University- it was such a bubble of a world- that I didn't feel confident in making that kind of decision. Now I do. Not that it helped much. Anyone know I nice, quiet country I can move to for a few years?
And at some point, I HAVE to get back to Hamilton. I was talking to Shesh the other day (friend from Mac and my old job), and she totally (justifiably) got on my case for not being around. I want to plan one good weekend, where I can go, see Shesh, see Mark, visit the toy store, spend all my money at the bead store (MAN, do I miss that place), and eat at Mai Thai. I've eaten Thai food in countless locations by now, and that place is still, hands down, the best. If you live in Hamilton, GO THERE, it's on John I think. You must have the Cashew Chicken. Bet you're hungry now, hun?
Okay, so this blog was a little more scattered than most, but at least I got some words in. I would like to take a brief opportunity to send out a 'Hey ya' to my aunt, who has made me jealous by discovering the ferret tree (watch the newest Harry Potter movie again, you'll see it).
Now, I have to get to bed- I have a big day tomorrow.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
She's back!
I could go on for a line or two about what a bad, bad blogger I've been, but chances are that after a month and a week of pure silence from me, any readers I once had are long gone. Out of sight and out of mind, and I've been hiding for awile now. But see how I persevere? Forge on into the depths of cyberspace bloggerdom? Meh...back to my show.
Yeah, I have neither forgotten nor abandoned my blog, if that's what you're thinking. I just got through a busy (and lazy) period. Hopefully it's over.
So, what's new with me this past month? Well, the job hunt continues, with prey in sight- it just takes time to see if my shots have hit the mark. I've been volunteering (have I told you this?) at an old, illustrious independent press in the city, which is fantastic and I would happily stay there- if I ever got paid. Oh well- it's a great resource and stepping stone for me regardless. Plus, they give me free books, which totally rocks.
And I may have just been offered an internship at another independent press (never thought I was a magnet for the indie connection, but there that is), but more to come on that later; at this point, I haven't got the details myself.
The holidays are wonderful. Little brother is here and staying with us for a few days, which is always fun, and we've done the gift thing (mine were a hit- both what I gave an received). I gave the brother gloves (which he WEARS, tyvm), and Mom got a very cool painting we spotted while shopping, as well as Janis Joplin's 'Pearl' cd. She's such the hippie.
And I got an mp3 player! Yep, my life has sound. Actually, that thought occurred to me the other day. I was walking to work with my headphones in my ears (trying to remember not to sing sloud), and it occured to me that this was like my life's soundtrack, like on tv. Then I felt like people were watching me, and it freaked me out. I put the tunes away then. But I still love them!
And I got some other pretty cool stuff. I hope all you out there got what your hearts desired this year.
And...that's it. Family's good, friends are good (Lauren's leaving for some tropical destination this week, and it's going to be a cold, lonely New Year's without her), pets are good. I promise not to go away for this long again. Believe me. Please!
Yeah, I have neither forgotten nor abandoned my blog, if that's what you're thinking. I just got through a busy (and lazy) period. Hopefully it's over.
So, what's new with me this past month? Well, the job hunt continues, with prey in sight- it just takes time to see if my shots have hit the mark. I've been volunteering (have I told you this?) at an old, illustrious independent press in the city, which is fantastic and I would happily stay there- if I ever got paid. Oh well- it's a great resource and stepping stone for me regardless. Plus, they give me free books, which totally rocks.
And I may have just been offered an internship at another independent press (never thought I was a magnet for the indie connection, but there that is), but more to come on that later; at this point, I haven't got the details myself.
The holidays are wonderful. Little brother is here and staying with us for a few days, which is always fun, and we've done the gift thing (mine were a hit- both what I gave an received). I gave the brother gloves (which he WEARS, tyvm), and Mom got a very cool painting we spotted while shopping, as well as Janis Joplin's 'Pearl' cd. She's such the hippie.
And I got an mp3 player! Yep, my life has sound. Actually, that thought occurred to me the other day. I was walking to work with my headphones in my ears (trying to remember not to sing sloud), and it occured to me that this was like my life's soundtrack, like on tv. Then I felt like people were watching me, and it freaked me out. I put the tunes away then. But I still love them!
And I got some other pretty cool stuff. I hope all you out there got what your hearts desired this year.
And...that's it. Family's good, friends are good (Lauren's leaving for some tropical destination this week, and it's going to be a cold, lonely New Year's without her), pets are good. I promise not to go away for this long again. Believe me. Please!
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Book tangent
I know I've been a bad little blogger, and there's no excuse, especially for someone who's not only home, but planted in front of her computer this much. The truth is, life is a lot more full than one would expect without a full-time job.
In the past two weeks, I've been to the ROM with Mom and the brother, to the Royal Horse show, which was incredible, even though I was solo cause Mom had work take over her life, to the symphony, which was so much fun, cause Mom and Laur and Hugh were all there, and I love spending time with all of them, but I hadn't seen Hugh in forever, so that was great, plus I always love listening to live music with Hugh because it's so obvious how wrapped up he gets in it (Hugh's a violinist, and fiddler, and bassist, and pianist, and the list keeps going...).
(Apparently I'm a little stream-of-consciousnessey tonight, I'll try to curb the impulse, but once the comma jones gets it's claws into you, it's hard to shake loose the impulse.)
Laur took me to her boss' art show opening, which I enjoyed immensely. His art made me think of Edward Gorey, but more plastic; very bright, flat planes, with twisted content that was effectively tongue-in-cheek and didn't take itself too seriously-- definitely my cup of tea.
And I've seen Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire twice already, and won't be able to say that after friday (lol)! Honestly, this one is so freaking good...I'm not going to let myself get started, it'll never end, but just, go see it okay? For me? (With me?)
I know some people couldn't imagine (or bear) to see a movie more than once, or more than many times. Mom refuses to buy DVD's because she's so dead set against watching something more than once. She doesn't get how I do it. I have a tendency to read my favourite books (usually the not-so-literary ones) over and over, too. I'm also that way with music; listen to a good song, if it gets you groovin, then there's nothing wrong with listening to it again. And again. Okay, I do have a point here. What I'm driving towards, is that I'm wondering how, or why, or something...about how much comfort I get from these things. Okay, not the music so much. But the movies to a lesser extent, and the books, hugely. I LOVE rereading my old books. The first fantasy book I ever opened was called The Hunter's Moon, by O.R. Melling, which Mom bought for me for Christmas when I was nine or so, back when we still did Christmas, and it was in my stocking. I still have it. And I've read it more times than I can count (now I wish I'd had the foresight, at age nine, to make a mark in the cover each time I read a book). Seriously- I can recite the first chapter. And Dragon Bones, by Patricia Briggs, I bought her book...I think I was in highschool, but I'll sometimes pick that book up, like, three times a year. It's a thin little paperback, takes me two days to read, and I know every twist of plot and most of the best lines, but I keep coming back. I love it. I mean, I like the story and her characters and stuff, but it's not the book, really, it's what I get out of it, I guess, that I keep coming back for. Like I said, it surprises me how much comfort I get from these simple, familiar stories. When I was in class, be it Mac or publishing, and was really stimulated by what I was doing for so many hours every day, then it would never occur to me to pick up one of my old books. When I'm up with brainwork every day, those are the times when my 'book instinct' kicks in. This is another quirk, and I've mentioned it to Mom before. I have moments, where it's like my brain's on autopilot. I would be walking through the student centre at Mac, on my way to class or on my lunch break or something, and without making a conscious decision to do so, I'd deke into the bookstore, look blindly at a shelf and just grab, faze my way through the checkout, never with one clear thought in my head. Sometimes I'd be unpacking my schoolbag hours later when I got home, and would find shiny new paperbacks with receipts tucked in their covers, and have no recollection whatsoever of having bought them. It's not a bad thing, just odd.
But now I've tangented myself into left field.
It's when my life is not so stimulated (and I know I just talked all about going to the symphony and stuff, and yes, that was stimulating), that I feel the urge to crawl into my old familiar stories again. Maybe part of me is worried that periods like this (I wouldn't go so far as to call them ruts, just...moments of calm. In the boring sense.) will continue too long, and I'm, what, afraid of that? Worried? Numbed? Yeah, 'numbed' works (call me Largeman). So, what sense does it make that I would only read the stimulating, challenging, literary, autopilot-purchase books when I'm already stimulated? Shouldn't it be the other way around?
Meh...I think this is a night of overanalysis, and without Lauren here I've talked myself into a corner. Besides, my book calls- and I know exactly what happens next.
In the past two weeks, I've been to the ROM with Mom and the brother, to the Royal Horse show, which was incredible, even though I was solo cause Mom had work take over her life, to the symphony, which was so much fun, cause Mom and Laur and Hugh were all there, and I love spending time with all of them, but I hadn't seen Hugh in forever, so that was great, plus I always love listening to live music with Hugh because it's so obvious how wrapped up he gets in it (Hugh's a violinist, and fiddler, and bassist, and pianist, and the list keeps going...).
(Apparently I'm a little stream-of-consciousnessey tonight, I'll try to curb the impulse, but once the comma jones gets it's claws into you, it's hard to shake loose the impulse.)
Laur took me to her boss' art show opening, which I enjoyed immensely. His art made me think of Edward Gorey, but more plastic; very bright, flat planes, with twisted content that was effectively tongue-in-cheek and didn't take itself too seriously-- definitely my cup of tea.
And I've seen Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire twice already, and won't be able to say that after friday (lol)! Honestly, this one is so freaking good...I'm not going to let myself get started, it'll never end, but just, go see it okay? For me? (With me?)
I know some people couldn't imagine (or bear) to see a movie more than once, or more than many times. Mom refuses to buy DVD's because she's so dead set against watching something more than once. She doesn't get how I do it. I have a tendency to read my favourite books (usually the not-so-literary ones) over and over, too. I'm also that way with music; listen to a good song, if it gets you groovin, then there's nothing wrong with listening to it again. And again. Okay, I do have a point here. What I'm driving towards, is that I'm wondering how, or why, or something...about how much comfort I get from these things. Okay, not the music so much. But the movies to a lesser extent, and the books, hugely. I LOVE rereading my old books. The first fantasy book I ever opened was called The Hunter's Moon, by O.R. Melling, which Mom bought for me for Christmas when I was nine or so, back when we still did Christmas, and it was in my stocking. I still have it. And I've read it more times than I can count (now I wish I'd had the foresight, at age nine, to make a mark in the cover each time I read a book). Seriously- I can recite the first chapter. And Dragon Bones, by Patricia Briggs, I bought her book...I think I was in highschool, but I'll sometimes pick that book up, like, three times a year. It's a thin little paperback, takes me two days to read, and I know every twist of plot and most of the best lines, but I keep coming back. I love it. I mean, I like the story and her characters and stuff, but it's not the book, really, it's what I get out of it, I guess, that I keep coming back for. Like I said, it surprises me how much comfort I get from these simple, familiar stories. When I was in class, be it Mac or publishing, and was really stimulated by what I was doing for so many hours every day, then it would never occur to me to pick up one of my old books. When I'm up with brainwork every day, those are the times when my 'book instinct' kicks in. This is another quirk, and I've mentioned it to Mom before. I have moments, where it's like my brain's on autopilot. I would be walking through the student centre at Mac, on my way to class or on my lunch break or something, and without making a conscious decision to do so, I'd deke into the bookstore, look blindly at a shelf and just grab, faze my way through the checkout, never with one clear thought in my head. Sometimes I'd be unpacking my schoolbag hours later when I got home, and would find shiny new paperbacks with receipts tucked in their covers, and have no recollection whatsoever of having bought them. It's not a bad thing, just odd.
But now I've tangented myself into left field.
It's when my life is not so stimulated (and I know I just talked all about going to the symphony and stuff, and yes, that was stimulating), that I feel the urge to crawl into my old familiar stories again. Maybe part of me is worried that periods like this (I wouldn't go so far as to call them ruts, just...moments of calm. In the boring sense.) will continue too long, and I'm, what, afraid of that? Worried? Numbed? Yeah, 'numbed' works (call me Largeman). So, what sense does it make that I would only read the stimulating, challenging, literary, autopilot-purchase books when I'm already stimulated? Shouldn't it be the other way around?
Meh...I think this is a night of overanalysis, and without Lauren here I've talked myself into a corner. Besides, my book calls- and I know exactly what happens next.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Something Special
Know what I saw today? Snowflakes.
In their honour, have a story:
He was born in the south, and not very long ago. Fair-haired and golden-skinned, he was a child who shone in the sunlight. He was bright and full of laughter and energy, and could never be persuaded to sleep until after sunset, though his parents knew if they waited until then, he would be good, and even easy to lull to sleep.
He loved to be outdoors. Rainy days always left him less enthused, quiet and lethargic. On one sunny day he was playing in the backyard, swinging on the jungle gym and rolling around with a stuffed puppy named Bruce. He stopped rolling, sitting on the warm grass, squinting at the bright sky. His mother asked him what he was thinking. “I have a secret,” he told her, but would say no more. She fed him hot dog pieces with ketchup, and he went back to his playing.
That night, while being tucked into bed, the boy whispered to his mother that he wanted to tell her his secret. “What is it?” she asked, and he told her, “The sun shines just for me.” The mother smiled at her son, enjoying his odd comment. She kissed him goodnight, and he fell asleep quickly.
She didn’t forget what her son had told her, though it was only a passing comment that he never repeated.
That winter the family went on a trip to Canada, where the father had a business conference and thought his son would like to see snow for the first time. There was no snow when they arrived, though, just many clouds and cold wind.
It was the last day of their visit and the mother and son were walking along the sidewalk, hand in hand. They passed a young woman walking in the opposite direction, and as she passed by, the boy looked at her, and she smiled back at him.
She was older, but not so old that she’d lost that magic that belongs to the young. She was more quiet than exuberant, she smiled much but seldom laughed, her hair was dark but her eyes were bright. She liked the summer and reveled in the colours of autumn, but she waited all year for the winter. Since she was young, she’d always been able to smell the snow that was ready to fall.
She stopped walking when she saw the boy looking at her. She leant down, level with him, as he approached, his mother watching pensively from behind. “I have a secret,” the boy told her, just as he’d told his mother so many months before.
“I know your secret,” the girl quietly smiled as she said it. His mother’s brows dipped in curious confusion- what was this stranger going to say to her son?
“The sun shines just for you, doesn’t it?” the woman whispered. Before the mother could register her shock, the stranger continued, “Do you know my secret?”
The little boy smiled and looked up at the slatey clouds overhead. “It snows just for you.”
And as the first flakes the boy had ever seen started to float down over the city, the stranger-who was not at all strange to the boy, nor he to her- smiled back, and nodded her head.
In their honour, have a story:
He was born in the south, and not very long ago. Fair-haired and golden-skinned, he was a child who shone in the sunlight. He was bright and full of laughter and energy, and could never be persuaded to sleep until after sunset, though his parents knew if they waited until then, he would be good, and even easy to lull to sleep.
He loved to be outdoors. Rainy days always left him less enthused, quiet and lethargic. On one sunny day he was playing in the backyard, swinging on the jungle gym and rolling around with a stuffed puppy named Bruce. He stopped rolling, sitting on the warm grass, squinting at the bright sky. His mother asked him what he was thinking. “I have a secret,” he told her, but would say no more. She fed him hot dog pieces with ketchup, and he went back to his playing.
That night, while being tucked into bed, the boy whispered to his mother that he wanted to tell her his secret. “What is it?” she asked, and he told her, “The sun shines just for me.” The mother smiled at her son, enjoying his odd comment. She kissed him goodnight, and he fell asleep quickly.
She didn’t forget what her son had told her, though it was only a passing comment that he never repeated.
That winter the family went on a trip to Canada, where the father had a business conference and thought his son would like to see snow for the first time. There was no snow when they arrived, though, just many clouds and cold wind.
It was the last day of their visit and the mother and son were walking along the sidewalk, hand in hand. They passed a young woman walking in the opposite direction, and as she passed by, the boy looked at her, and she smiled back at him.
She was older, but not so old that she’d lost that magic that belongs to the young. She was more quiet than exuberant, she smiled much but seldom laughed, her hair was dark but her eyes were bright. She liked the summer and reveled in the colours of autumn, but she waited all year for the winter. Since she was young, she’d always been able to smell the snow that was ready to fall.
She stopped walking when she saw the boy looking at her. She leant down, level with him, as he approached, his mother watching pensively from behind. “I have a secret,” the boy told her, just as he’d told his mother so many months before.
“I know your secret,” the girl quietly smiled as she said it. His mother’s brows dipped in curious confusion- what was this stranger going to say to her son?
“The sun shines just for you, doesn’t it?” the woman whispered. Before the mother could register her shock, the stranger continued, “Do you know my secret?”
The little boy smiled and looked up at the slatey clouds overhead. “It snows just for you.”
And as the first flakes the boy had ever seen started to float down over the city, the stranger-who was not at all strange to the boy, nor he to her- smiled back, and nodded her head.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Lemony Snicker (the pie is laughing at me)
Today is my brother's birthday, so Happy Birthday Brother. In honour of this momentous day, I was going to blog my mom's recipe and secret tips on how to make his favourite, Lemon Meringue Pie. Alas, this is not to be, cause apparently even with the recipe and secret tips, I cannot make Lemon Meringue Pie.
Lemon Meringue Soup I'm great at.
I refuse to accept defeat. There will be pie...someday.
Lemon Meringue Soup I'm great at.
I refuse to accept defeat. There will be pie...someday.
Friday, October 28, 2005
I am a human firework.
Oh. My. God.
Oh my God.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I got a call.
It was for an interview.
For me.
At MCGRAW HILL RYERSON PUBLISHING.
To be a SUPERVISING EDITOR.
E-D-I-T-O-R.
Oh my god.
Oh my God.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I got a call.
It was for an interview.
For me.
At MCGRAW HILL RYERSON PUBLISHING.
To be a SUPERVISING EDITOR.
E-D-I-T-O-R.
Oh my god.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Infinitely Simple
Today I graduated for the last time. It was a good day, one of those days that you expect in advance to be momentous, then get to the moment and think 'this is stupid', and then experience and realize that it's just a day. I don't mean that in a depressed way or anything. It's just that sometimes life gives you these moments when you're totally aware of being alive, and it's not biblical or earth-shattering, and it's not pointless biology or tiny-specs-in-space insignificance, it's just you, and the people around you, experiencing stuff, and making thoughts and decisions and other stuff out of it. And I like that. There is no quest for the meaning of life, but it's not just empty, either. On days like this everything is just infinitely simple.
It was cold and rainy all day. I wore my new blue shoes which got compliments and wet. The ceremony at Humber was uncomplicated, and the comedy class graduating with ours was funny, and I hate pantyhose. Some college guy I never saw before made an awful speech, and they handed me a certificate, and I was happy and had a headache.
The brother was there, and that made me pretty happy, too.
It was good to see my classmates again, and we all planned to get together and keep in touch, then Mom and the bro and I drove around for an hour before heading home and eating pizza and boston cream cake.
Tonight we went to see a Qubecois film called C.R.A.Z.Y., which is worth seeing, if you can deal with subtitles. I liked it, and was proud that I got the title before the end of the film. It had a cute actor and really good music.
Now I'm home and really tired, and I think I'll go to sleep. It really was a good day.
It was cold and rainy all day. I wore my new blue shoes which got compliments and wet. The ceremony at Humber was uncomplicated, and the comedy class graduating with ours was funny, and I hate pantyhose. Some college guy I never saw before made an awful speech, and they handed me a certificate, and I was happy and had a headache.
The brother was there, and that made me pretty happy, too.
It was good to see my classmates again, and we all planned to get together and keep in touch, then Mom and the bro and I drove around for an hour before heading home and eating pizza and boston cream cake.
Tonight we went to see a Qubecois film called C.R.A.Z.Y., which is worth seeing, if you can deal with subtitles. I liked it, and was proud that I got the title before the end of the film. It had a cute actor and really good music.
Now I'm home and really tired, and I think I'll go to sleep. It really was a good day.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Bethany's Praline Apple Bread
Well, it's autumn, and gorgeous, and apples are in season. I made this for my family last week, and it was a hit, so I'm passing it on. Try it out, trust me.
Bethany’s Apple Praline Bread
1 cup sugar
8 oz carton of sour cream
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/4 cups chopped, peeled tart apples
1 cup chopped pecans (optional)
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
Beat together white sugar, sour cream, eggs, and vanilla on low speed, then beat on medium speed for 2 minutes. Stir together the dry ingredients and add sour cream mix, beating on low until combined. Stir in apple and ½ cup pecans.
Turn into greased 9 x 5 x 3 inch loaf pan. Sprinkle with remaining chopped pecans. Press lightly into batter.
Bake at 350 degrees for 55 to 60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in centre comes out clean. (Don't skip this step- mine regualrly takes over an hour to cook). If necessary, cover loosely with foil for the last ten minutes to prevent over-browning. Cool in pan on wire rack for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, combine butter and brown sugar and cook and stir until mixture comes to a boil. Reduce heat and boil gently for 1 minute. Remove bread from pan, drizzle top with brown sugar mixture. Cool completely. Makes 1 loaf.
Some brief notes:
Feel free to add more apples than this calls for (I do).
Walnuts taste just as good as pecans.
Make sure the brown sugar is dissolved in the butter at the end, but don't burn it.
And something I discovered while making this again tonight: Do not touch the spoon you use to stir the boiling butter and sugar mixture. When this burns you, run cold water over said finger. While cold water is running, DO NOT assume spoon is now cool enough and attempt to LICK yummy sugar off it. Ow.
Bethany’s Apple Praline Bread
1 cup sugar
8 oz carton of sour cream
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/4 cups chopped, peeled tart apples
1 cup chopped pecans (optional)
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
Beat together white sugar, sour cream, eggs, and vanilla on low speed, then beat on medium speed for 2 minutes. Stir together the dry ingredients and add sour cream mix, beating on low until combined. Stir in apple and ½ cup pecans.
Turn into greased 9 x 5 x 3 inch loaf pan. Sprinkle with remaining chopped pecans. Press lightly into batter.
Bake at 350 degrees for 55 to 60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in centre comes out clean. (Don't skip this step- mine regualrly takes over an hour to cook). If necessary, cover loosely with foil for the last ten minutes to prevent over-browning. Cool in pan on wire rack for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, combine butter and brown sugar and cook and stir until mixture comes to a boil. Reduce heat and boil gently for 1 minute. Remove bread from pan, drizzle top with brown sugar mixture. Cool completely. Makes 1 loaf.
Some brief notes:
Feel free to add more apples than this calls for (I do).
Walnuts taste just as good as pecans.
Make sure the brown sugar is dissolved in the butter at the end, but don't burn it.
And something I discovered while making this again tonight: Do not touch the spoon you use to stir the boiling butter and sugar mixture. When this burns you, run cold water over said finger. While cold water is running, DO NOT assume spoon is now cool enough and attempt to LICK yummy sugar off it. Ow.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Happy happy thanksgiving
This is a wonderful day.
I went to Yonge and Eglinton to meet a friend, and the TTC was almost empty because of the holiday. It was almost...peaceful.
I met Lisa, and we went to the bookstore, had lunch, talked about publishing and school and things...
We went to see a movie (Serenity), which was very, very good, but don't go see it, because space cowboys takes a certain palate, and most don't have it. But it's a Joss Weedon film, which is awesome, I love his stuff, and it's about time someone gave him the funding to do it! (Or maybe he just saved up all his pennies from Buffy, who knows). Either way, I liked it.
But the best part was the Harry Potter trailer that came on before the flick. I stopped breathing for a minute. Lisa said she almost peed her pants. I swear, I'd pay just to see the trailer again! I can't wait till November 18th.
And seeing an old friend is always good, and it's finally really, really autumn here, which I love, and there's leaf colours and new sweaters and cold snaps in the air which is wonderful.
I took the subway home, and the city is running this "Live with Culture" ad campaign, and I love good ad campaigns, and Eglinton station is covered in these posters of art, and one series is a bunch of dancers by Cylla von Tiedemann which is utterly fantastic (seriously- go see Eglinton station). I was walking along, swingin my purse and looking at these fabulous contemporary dance stills, and this guy passes by me in baggy clothes with his hood up and dirty nails (the type of guy who you usually try not to look at), and as he passed he muttered, "Living is life, and life is worth living." He made me smile.
I skipped most of the way home, and there were happy people, and fathers running with their kids, and I love being in a good mood.
But there were supposed to be people here when I got home. Mom and the brother and the Egg, and (and I don't want to sound selfish or demanding here, but) dinner on the stove! Okay, so it's thanksgiving and we're cheating and having chicken, but still...
Where is everybody?!
I went to Yonge and Eglinton to meet a friend, and the TTC was almost empty because of the holiday. It was almost...peaceful.
I met Lisa, and we went to the bookstore, had lunch, talked about publishing and school and things...
We went to see a movie (Serenity), which was very, very good, but don't go see it, because space cowboys takes a certain palate, and most don't have it. But it's a Joss Weedon film, which is awesome, I love his stuff, and it's about time someone gave him the funding to do it! (Or maybe he just saved up all his pennies from Buffy, who knows). Either way, I liked it.
But the best part was the Harry Potter trailer that came on before the flick. I stopped breathing for a minute. Lisa said she almost peed her pants. I swear, I'd pay just to see the trailer again! I can't wait till November 18th.
And seeing an old friend is always good, and it's finally really, really autumn here, which I love, and there's leaf colours and new sweaters and cold snaps in the air which is wonderful.
I took the subway home, and the city is running this "Live with Culture" ad campaign, and I love good ad campaigns, and Eglinton station is covered in these posters of art, and one series is a bunch of dancers by Cylla von Tiedemann which is utterly fantastic (seriously- go see Eglinton station). I was walking along, swingin my purse and looking at these fabulous contemporary dance stills, and this guy passes by me in baggy clothes with his hood up and dirty nails (the type of guy who you usually try not to look at), and as he passed he muttered, "Living is life, and life is worth living." He made me smile.
I skipped most of the way home, and there were happy people, and fathers running with their kids, and I love being in a good mood.
But there were supposed to be people here when I got home. Mom and the brother and the Egg, and (and I don't want to sound selfish or demanding here, but) dinner on the stove! Okay, so it's thanksgiving and we're cheating and having chicken, but still...
Where is everybody?!
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