Adventures in Penticton with my fiancéeeeeee

After watching Luc wrestle with our unruly bike rack for about 20 minutes, we finally took off on the four hour journey to Penticton...which was more like five because we had an extended lunch at White Spot where we filled up on chubby chicken and counted how many guys came in wearing super cool wife beaters. The drive was scenic and enjoyable until we were nearly run off the road (right onto the shoulder with one tire in a precarious balance at the edge of a ditch) by a semi-truck driver. This sounds pretty dramatic, but we were going about 2 km/hr and he didn't want to let us merge in....total douche bag move, but we didn't want to risk death so we let the a-hole have his way and merged in behind him. The only other sad moment was when I realized that wearing my sunglasses for more than 3 hours at a time is painful to my head - but I managed to fix that problem.Monday afternoon was spent exploring and getting acquainted with our patio, which was wonderfully equipped with drinking stools (chairs), a big drink holder (table) and something to "oooh" and "aaah" at (mountain scenery) when those were the only sounds we could make anymore.Tuesday was absolutely the best, and for obvious reasons, the most memorable day of the week. Silly me, I thought the highlight of the trip was going to be seeing a peacock wandering around the streets in Naramata. Little did I know, there was plenty more excitement to come. I still find that bizarre though, that a big ol' peacock was strutting his stuff around a neighbourhood. Make no mistake, I have proof. I may have even chased him around a few houses trying to get him to spread his magnificent tail. Luc said they only spread their tail feathers for mating reasons, when they're attracted to a female, so I tousled my hair a bit and pulled down my shirt, but he clearly wasn't digging my cleavage because this was the best shot I managed to get.At most of the wineries we visited, we were usually the only ones in the wine tasting room. This was advantageous for us, because the wine experts would generally give us a larger pour so that we would be drinking longer and in turn, they could talk more. If anyone is ever doing a tour on the Naramata Bench, please, pleeaaaase, go to Red Rooster at make sure that David is doing your tasting. He's got the coolest moustache, wears his pants high enough that it's funny but not so high that it's hard to look at, and I have a sneaking suspicion his other job is doing voice-overs for over the top, animated children's shows. David has more facial expressions than Jim Carrey on speed. We didn't actually visit Red Rooster until Thursday though; Tuesday we stopped in at Kettle Valley, Therapy Vineyards, Elephant Island, Lake Breeze, and of course, the winery that I will always remember as the place that I said "yes", Soaring Eagle. I'm not too familiar with my readers yet, so I don't know if anyone is interested in hearing the whole engagement story, but if you guys are, leave comments here and I'll be sure to tell the full story. The gist: Luc got down on one knee with a beautiful diamond engagement ring, I cried, I said yes, I was the happiest woman in the world. We were going to wait until we got home to tell our friends and family, but we ended up calling pretty much everyone when we got back to the hotel room. By the time we had called everyone, we had worked our way through several more drinks, and I was literally dancing with joy. I was completely on top of the world, but I did get one comment that put me right over the edge. I was on the phone with one of my twin, three year old nieces, and she whispered into the phone, in the sweetest, smallest, most adorable little voice, "Auntie Kissten, yo goin to be a pin-cess."

For the rest of the week I was floating on a cloud. I got some advice from winery workers who noticed my ring, like the pleasant woman at Township 7 who advised me that if her 19-year old daughter can plan a wedding while going to school, AND sew all of the decorative vests for the groom and groomsmen (they got married at a Medieval Fair), then I should be able to plan a wedding for next September. I'm not sure though, because not only am I planning on sewing vests, but I would also like to sew medieval gowns and headgear for myself and all of my bridesmaids. So although I wrote another post about the back to reality blues after a vacation, I'm still in unbreakable spirits, and it's not the three glasses of wine I had with dinner.

Babies!

Since an engagement leads to a wedding, and a wedding leads to a marriage, and within marriage we'll most likely have kids, Luc and I went out and bought a couple of training babies. Introducing, our new sons, Laurence Hansel Fishburne and Simon Optimus Prime.

Hansel

Simon

Brothers

Very much enjoying...

Butter lettuce. The most decadent of the leafy green varieties....

Going to the chapel

We're back from Penticton and I've got a diamond ring on my finger! After an afternoon of wine tours, Luc proposed to me while picnicking on the patio at the Soaring Eagle Winery...and it couldn't have been more perfect.

Thoughts

I love that birds can't walk without making a pecking motion with their heads with each step. When you're bored, feeling down, or even if you're in a great mood and just want to smile some more, watch a bird merrily jaunt around.

This is not whine country

Over the span of the morning and afternoon, Luc and I paid a visit to to several wineries and even saw a peacock along the way (photos to come upon our arrival home). Our hotel room has a picturesque balcony backing onto a golf course and facing the majestic mountainside. I'm drunk and I have nothing to complain about.

Overheard

Last night Luc and I grabbed a bite to eat at Boston Pizza. Every TV screen in the restaurant was showing the same wrestling match (pretty damn uneven if you ask me) between the standard, grizzly looking, overly-tanned macho man and.....drum roll please.....a midget. The kid at the table next to us was watching with great anticipation and shouted "Looook! A midget!!" And then with great surprise, exclaimed, "Wow.......he's so easy to handle!"

Food Coma

This afternoon my friend Kate and I went for a decadent High Tea at the Secret Garden Tea Company. What seem like dainty little finger foods and delicate desserts are actually, collectively, enough food to render one immobile for the next eight hours of one's life. This is precisely why I waddled out of that place and dozed on my couch for two hours, not unlike a fat lazy cat napping carelessly in the sun. My next gastronomic adventure begins tomorrow morning when Luc and I leave for Penticton, where we will drown ourselves in wine and hopefully not in the hotel pool...assuming we can stay sober enough to put on our bathing suits. I'm looking forward to dining alfresco and riding our bikes from winery to winery, again, assuming we can remain sober enough to not fall off our bikes.

Listening to

Is there a ghost - Band of Horses

Getting fakies

After burying our dead orchid (aka throwing it in the trash on top of old Chinese food), Luc and I ventured out to find a replacement flower. Luc insisted that the reason our orchid perished wasn't from my black thumb, which has claimed the lives of several other house plants, but because the flower pot is sitting in our entrance, whose only light source is a fluorescent light bulb. Someone once told me that plants can't survive without sunlight...it turns out they were right. Since I wanted flowers for the entrance table and Luc refused to let another plant wither and die uselessly, we compromised and set out to buy fake flowers.

Outside the flower shop were tons of lush, brightly coloured flowers and plants, and leaned over them was a little old lady (let's call her Mabel). One wrinkled hand was reached out towards the plants while the other rested on her walker. Watching her lift that tiny flower pot was like watching a toddler do bicep curls with a microwave. After gingerly placing the tiny pot of flowers in her walker's basket, she reached out a shaky hand to another woman walking into the store. Mabel couldn't get her walker up the front step, so she needed someone to go in and pay for the flowers on her behalf. I wanted to elbow this woman into oncoming traffic and jump to the rescue of sweet old Mabel. She was so kind and soft spoken when asking this woman to purchase the flowers for her that my heart nearly melted right out of my chest and all over the sidewalk. Kind hearted elderly folks are a rare animal in Kerrisdale - most of my encounters with old people here involve stern, disapproving looks for doing things like smiling the wrong way.

I didn't get to buy the flowers for Mabel, but we managed to find some acceptable looking fake flowers for ourselves.

Because I'm so sour and cynical

I thought I would write something quick and cheerful and happy. Luc bought me a book of poetry. Poetry. I sat in bed last night and leafed through beautiful pages of poetry courtesy of my thoughtful boyfriend. I think I'll try to read a few poems from this book before bed every night. For now, I'm going to go outside and bask in the visual poetry of Coal Harbour on a glorious, sun baked afternoon.

Listening to

I wish I knew Natalie Portman - k-os

Loser Cruiser Indeed

Rather than take the car as I usually do on Thursdays after work, today I took public transit. The bus. The over crowded, gum stuck to its seats, smelly, crusty puke on the floor, steamy inside, full of weirdos, fucking bus. I used to always take the bus while I was going to school at UBC as well as my first six months working downtown. The bus used to be a place where I could listen to my ipod, read, relax and after a few "I'm totally going to stay awake and read this book" head nods, lull myself into a half sleep. Bus drivers were delightful cynics that rolled their eyes at anyone who dared ask a question, but were witty and endearing when you actually carried on a conversation with them. The old ladies were sweet and frail and the old men were proud buggers who never sat down, wore pageboy caps and were always chewing on something even though there was never really anything in their mouth to chew on. I used to love watching mothers pop their strollers back onto two wheels to mount the bus. They always had this smooth, delicate way of maneuvering their way onto the bus and stomping down on that stroller brake like, "don't worry baby, I got this shit handled."

Today's bus ride was nothing like the rides of yore...but has it really been that long that everything (and everyone) have so drastically changed? I had barely stepped in the bus before the driver shamed me for getting on the express bus without the intent to go all of the way to the last stop. The 98B runs from downtown Vancouver to Richmond with stops at main intersections along the way for loading AND unloading. The bus ticket machine ate my ticket and when I asked for it back to transfer at 41st Avenue, he let loose about taking the express instead of "ANY. OTHER. BUS. Any of the buses behind me," (complete with a disapproving head shake). I ignored his unnecessarily rude comments and actually managed to secure a seat (with only ONE piece of dried gum on it! Yay!) When I sit in the front section, I like to keep my eyes peeled for elderly folks getting on, and sure enough at the next stop a lady who looked to be about 150 years old came shuffling on. I immediately jumped up and offered her my seat but she refused. She said that if I wasn't getting off at the next stop then she wasn't taking my seat and despite my persistence, she wouldn't cave. So then I had the treat of watching an old lady sway back and forth, nearly falling and breaking her hip with every stop and go pulse of rush hour traffic. After a nerve-wracking 20 minute ride of watching this old lady nearly die at the hands of gravity, I finally transferred. Even though my next bus smelt like puke that had been roasting on an old tire in the sun, there were plenty of seats and the bus driver may have actually smiled (gasp!) There was a woman in the front with a stroller and two more of her children were perched on the seats behind her. "Omigod, omigod, Tanner loooook, it's a KITTY!" squealed the little girl, and only 5 seconds later she howled "AAAHAHAHAAA. MADE YOUUUU LOOOOOK!" Apparently her stroller pushing mother wasn't in quite as good spirits as her daughter because she whipped her head around and said, "oh shut up..." So with my own spirits crushed and with some unidentified substance stuck to the bottom of my shoe, I unloaded the bus and walked home.

Obsessed with

Experimenting in photoshop

The View From Down Here

Culinary Masterpiece

Me: (trying to thinly slice cheese and nearly cutting my finger off) "Dammit! Can you cut the cheese?"
Luc: (farts loudly) ............
Me: .............. "I guess I was asking for it when I said that..."

How I like to spend my lunch hour

Have you ever gone to the gym on your lunch break, showered, then realized that you forgot your towel and had to air-dry your entire, soaking wet body in 2.3 seconds in order to make it back to work on time? I have. It's...not so fun.

Someone give this man an Emmy

I used to watch CSI Miami for one reason alone. His name is David Caruso and this is his legacy.

Communication Breakdown

I always react awkwardly to people who say things in passing like, "what's up?" I routinely encounter the same boisterous guy who always has the same boisterous greeting, "WHAT'S GOING ONNN!?" ...."Umm...good?"

There's no place like home?

One of my girlfriends was just in Thailand for three weeks, so a few of us went out for drinks last night to celebrate her safe return. Despite the disconcerting e-mails we received about being lost in the jungle (and stumbling across an Internet cafe) or being somewhat unsure if the ink markings on her back were permanent, she's come back to us unscathed, tattoo-free and without any discernible emotional damage from seeing the hoards of "lady-boys" walking the streets with creepy old men in tow. She can now check off numerous items on her life's to do list; like ride an elephant through the jungle, skip with a flaming rope, or watch her boyfriend pose for the camera in an egregious speedo bathing suit.

Amidst the stories, I couldn't help but sense the post-vacation depression she was feeling, especially when she told us about sobbing in the airport when faced with the reality of returning home. Everybody fears the moment when their vacation comes to an end and they realize, "oh shit, I actually have to pay for this vacation....and rent...and I have a shitty job...and I can't wander around barefoot and drunk anymore." And it's about at that moment that you burst into tears and feel the weight of the world crash down on you. And then the flight attendant comes over and tells you to get a grip because you're freaking out the children. I feel like I'm already entering into that sad phase and I haven't even left for my damn vacation yet! These days off are so dear to me, that I'm mourning them before they've even passed.

This will be the first time off work that Luc and I have had since December, so I'm determined to relish in the longevity of each day and cherish every extra second I get to spend in bed each morning. My stringent determination to enjoy every goddamn moment of blissful time off has given me pre-vacation anxiety. Last night I was vicariously experiencing the "back to reality" feeling you fight through after an enjoyable bout of vacation time. I could see myself at home, doing the laundry that reeked with the residue of great vacation, and that's when the feeling really hit me. However, I was mature enough to leave the table and cry my eyes out in the privacy of the women's restroom. Hopefully though, when the time actually comes, I can restrain my end of vacation hysteria, because if Luc has to endure a 5 hour drive with a wailing banshee, something tells me that this banshee just may have to walk home.

Taco Tuesday

In a bland work week, it's often the small pleasures that bring me the most happiness. Like trying a new scent of deodorant or buying a new toothbrush. We're having tacos for dinner tonight and I can barely focus; all afternoon visions of tacos with big toothy grins doing the can-can have been dancing across my mind. Little do they know, I'm going to snap off their arms and legs then eat them faster than I run out of my office at 5:00pm. The tacos we eat for dinner don't actually have arms and legs, but they do in my imagination. Delicious taco arms and delicious taco legs. I have a week of vacation to look forward to next week, but I'm still thinking non-stop about the taco feast that will take place in our kitchen tonight. Tacos will not be overshadowed by an impending vacation, they mean that much to me. Dance you little buggers, I'll be home soon enough.

Pity Party

Overheard: (big, heaving sigh) "Yeah, sometimes you just have to do these things, you know? It's hard and you don't want to, but you have to. You've gotta do what you've gotta do."

No, she's not a volunteer surrogate mother for her best friend's baby, she's just going to Las Vegas for 4 days. Poor girl. How will she ever cope?

Tofino Sunset

Grocery Shopping 101

1. For maximum aisle blockage, park your cart diagonally, because people don't mind waiting while you decide if you need to save 50 cents by purchasing almost-expired cheese.
2. Watch as your kids dip their hands elbow-deep into the bulk food items - other people don't buy that junk anyway.
3. Let your kids eat deodorant. Why not?
4. Bring your uncle, grandma, cousins, sister, sister's kids, sister's kids' friend and your sister's kids' friend's grandma...the more the merrier.
5. Disregard stop signs in the parking lot to keep other drivers on their toes.
6. Talk on your cell phone while driving your cart with one hand, consequently running into innocent bystanders.
7. Whenever possible, walk in slow motion and linger unnecessarily in high-traffic areas.
   
8. Tell your wife, in front of everyone, that she doesn't need any more cookies; embarrassing for her, but funny for the rest of us.
9. Go into the '15 items or less' line with enough groceries to stock an army bomb shelter - that sign is really just a suggestion anyway.
10. Crash into my car as I'm backing out, then ask if you can still have my parking spot.

Listening to

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked - Cage the Elephant

Printemps

Spring finally peeked its head around the corner and came out to play. We've been catapulted into warmer weather over night and my flip-flips are finally receiving the attention they deserve. The cherry blossoms have wilted and been trampled into the sidewalk, but their pink glow has been replaced with the welcome shine of a warm, spring sun. The breeze that whips through my hair on bike rides no longer stings my cheeks and the night air that flows in through our open bedroom window doesn't make me retreat deep under the covers. The pompous purse dogs have shed their sweaters for modest vests and their owners are lining up for pedicures. Soon, the downtown lunch scene will shift to the patios, making the sidewalks a catwalk parade for single, working women. The coffees are iced and the wine is chilled. This isn't another sneak preview from mother nature; warmer weather has finally descended upon Vancouver and we couldn't be happier.

The word of the day is "uncomfortable"

I've had several incidents with strange characters in my office building elevator, but I think yesterday won the "most awkward" award. On the ascent it was just me and one other scruffy looking individual. In the front of the elevator is a TV screen that plays the weather, the news and each day there is a new "word the day". The "word of the day" feature consists of a word, its definition and a sentence using that word. Friday's word was "whinge", which means to whine, and the example sentence said something like, "the daughter whinged about not being able to go to the school dance." The other man in the elevator was already making me nervous just by the way he stood there; shifting his weight back and forth between his feet, subtle head twitches and aggressively scratching his mangy beard. It wasn't until he abruptly burst into laughter that my weirdo radar started to sound its full alarm. The "word of the day" was up on the screen and it had clearly been the trigger to his maniacal laughter.
Weirdo: "HA! Ha...hahaha...HAHA...HAAAAHAHA.."
Me: (slowly turning to my head to look at him out of the corner of my eye)
Weirdo: "HAAA...sounds like MY daughter!! Hahaha..."
............
Weirdo: (staring at me expectantly, clearly wanting me to respond to his comment)
Me: "Oh...um...how old is your daughter?"
Weirdo: (the bright expression on his face dropping) "Well....well I don't actually have a daughter. I....but....I mean..." (bursts out into awkward laughter and incomprehensible mumbling)
We arrive at my floor and I slip out before the doors are barely open.
Weirdo: "HAAAAhahahaha."
Me: "OK then...have a good day."
Probably one of those "you had to be there" moments to see the crazy shine in his eyes, but noteworthy nonetheless.

Thoughts

Remember when you were a kid, and you would meet some other kid, but you couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl? And then their name was "Aaron" (or was it "Erin"?) or "Taylor". And you happen to be at the beach, so you coax them into the water and rather than strip down to a bathing suit, they swim in their damn SHORTS AND T-SHIRT!

Four Things

I found this "four things" reading archives on another blog that I love.

Four jobs I've had
1. Snowboard Instructor - One time an 8 year old kid crapped his pants on the chairlift, somehow got it all over the outside of his snowsuit, then refused to ride the rest of the way down and walked instead, slipping all the while and leaving poo streaks in the snow. Other than that one time, it was a pretty sweet job.
2. Server - A slave to the hungry public...my Dad once told me "never get a job where you deal with people who are hungry"...he couldn't have been more right. Sometimes I still have serving nightmares.
3. Reception at a tanning salon - For one summer I worked under the terrifying reign of a psycho family, who misleadingly told me in the interview, "it's a really great place to work. If you work here, we treat you like family." Unfortunately, they were a dysfunctional family with major communication issues. But they were right, they treated me like one of them; they bossed me around, bullied me, and one afternoon one of the daughters said, "your hair looks like shit, you need to fix that. You look like you just rolled out of bed."
4. French & English Teacher - I worked at an after school learning centre for over achieving kids whose parents didn't want them around the house.

Four movies I can watch over and over
1. Amelie
2. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
3. Stardust
4. Chocolat

Four places I have lived
1. Richmond, BC with my parents for the first 21 years of my life
2. Trois Rivieres, Quebec with 3 roommates while going to school
3. Ground floor suite of a house in Vancouver with Luc, our first place together
4. Our apartment in Kerrisdale, which would be perfect if only it had a patio

Four TV shows I love
1. Lost
2. Seinfeld
3. Arrested Development
4. Dexter

Four places I've vacationed
1. Germany, France, Austria, Switzerland and Italy (on one trip with my friend- we rented a car)
2. Cancun, Mexico
3. Waikiki, Hawaii
4. Los Cabos, Mexico

Four sites I visit daily
1. I Can Has Cheezburger
2. Dooce
3. Look Book
4. BBC News In Pictures

Four places I would rather be right now
1. At my favourite restaurant, La Notte, eating a caesar salad and drinking some wine
2. On a cafe patio, under the sun, drinking a latte and reading my book
3. Lying in bed with Luc, knowing that we don't have to get up for work
4. At the movie theatre, watching the new Star Trek movie

Four people I am tagging
1. Chelsea, my only friend with a blog!!

Are you my mother?

I took this picture on a farm somewhere in Saskatchewan a couple years ago. This little guy just wanted somebody to love him.

Mistaken Identity

On the weekend, Luc and I undertook some light spring cleaning. I figured this would be a good time to make the trek to the back of my closet and finally do a purge of all the items I no longer wear. This is excruciatingly difficult for me, being a borderline-OCD pack rat. These items of clothing have been tucked away for months upon months (some for years) without being needed once, yet I always seem to be terrified that one day, I'll need a black, pleated jean skirt with a bright orange, see-through stretchy top and black, square-toed, leather ankle boots that don't actually fit me, and then I'll be kicking myself, saying, "I knew it! NOW what am I going to do???"

Some things are outdated (like all three of the aforementioned items), some no longer fit and some are in such terrible condition I cringe just thinking that I actually wore it so long that it could get to that point of raggedness. I had three white tank-tops; one nice one for everyday wear; one average one for the gym; and one ragged piece of crap that is so stretched in some places that the fabric has worn thin to the point that it's nearly see-through. The latter fits into the "terrible condition" category. It's the kind of clothing that one would be embarrassed to donate to the local Army and Navy because homeless people wouldn't even dress their dogs in it. Somehow this sub-par tank top has managed to stay in one piece and remain in my closet, but finally, with an enormous amount of strength and willpower, I wrestled the beast to the ground and threw it in the garbage.

I don't know when it happened, but this evil genius of a tank top escaped the clutches of my trash bin and wormed its way back into my closet. And that is why when I was getting dressed for the gym this afternoon, I didn't pull out my gym tank top, but in my trembling hand I held this monstrosity of a garment, begging to be worn. I suppose my perfectly good gym tank top is crying tears of neglect as it is buried somewhere under banana peels and old diapers. I'm sorry gym tank top, I didn't mean to throw you away, and I certainly didn't mean to show up at the gym looking like a sumo wrestler was just power washed wearing my tank top. But I did.

Thoughts

Justin Timberlake may have finally redeemed himself for his embarrassing boy band days.

TGIW

Wednesday has long been my favourite day of the work-week for a few reasons. First off, Monday is Monday; it's just the worst kind of day, the kind of day that says irritating things like, "ohhhh, omigod, you got a HAIRcut....it's....wow....do you like it?" Mostly I just want to kick Monday in the balls.

Tuesday is no better than Monday because it's not like you can reminisce with things like, "man, I wish it were still yesterday so I could be sleeping in or drinking a latte in my underwear on the couch." Tuesday's yesterday is Monday, and we already know about Monday. Tuesday is just a boring day floating on the wrong side of Wednesday.

Thursday for most people is the, "yay it's Friday tomorrow" day, but for me, it's the day that Luc gets off work early, meaning I have to drive home alone. Buying a new, functioning stereo for the car has lessened the blow of my lonely commutes, but seeing the parking attendant's Cheeto smeared face doesn't compare to seeing Luc's handsome mug waiting for me after a long day.

Most people will probably say that Friday is their favourite day of the week, but that's not an option-- Friday is too obvious. It's the most glorious of all work days and everyone would choose Friday if they had the option, so they can't. I never really got the phrase TGIF until I got a full time job though. Now every Friday you can find me at 5:00pm, running around downtown Vancouver screaming it at the top of my lungs.

So Wednesday is my favourite day because it's the lesser of the evils, but it has some redeeming qualities that the others don't have. It's the halfway point, the day where you get home and say to yourself in disbelief, "it's Thursday tomorrow! It's nearly Friday! Already!" However, the most recent of reasons I hold Wednesdays so dear to my heart is because Lost and America's Next Top Model both air on Wednesday nights. I enjoy the juxtaposition of watching total trash reality television with girls that couldn't fight their way out of a wet paper bag followed by the complex, story telling genius of Lost. I like to adjust my viewing habits accordingly; during Top Model, my best friend, Kate, comes over and we make tea and sit cross legged in our workout gear, gossiping about what a psycho Tyra Banks is. For Lost, I usually throw on a cardigan, put on my glasses and pour a glass of wine to swirl like brandy while muttering things like, "yes, but of course, a time-space continuum."

Tonight is the season finale of Lost, but it's OK, my torrid love affair with Wednesday had to end some time. At least next week is a four day week - so it will almost be like Wednesday, dearest hump day, never existed at all.

Motivation

While working out at the gym this afternoon, I saw a woman walking on the treadmill with a furious look of determination on her face. This woman was probably about 5’5”, roughly 350 lbs. and she was hauling ass. I wanted to run up to her and scream “YAAA! HIGH-FIVE!”, but my better judgement stopped such a ridiculous impulse. I think she would have appreciated the encouragement though - I know that sometimes when I'm toiling away on the elliptical, on those days when my ipod gym mix isn't doing the job, I could use some pep. If someone came bouncing up to me, bubbling to the brim with boundless enthusiasm and screamed "YAAA! HIGH-FIVE!", I might just extend my arm, break out in a genuine smile and slap the shit out of that high-five. Obviously I would still go home and tell Luc about the lunatic running loose and slapping high-five with strangers at the gym, but in that moment it might just be the lift that I need.

Artist's Rendering of Stupidity

Thoughts

If Stanley Park were closer to my office building, you would see me in there each afternoon, punch dancing out my rage.

Thoughts

It would be considerate to open your tuna sandwich AFTER you exit the elevator.

Quitting my day job?

I'm considering selling tickets for seats in our living room window to watch people parallel park in the street below. It's more entertaining and scandalous than most reality TV - like the time the girl backed into a cop car (with 2 cops inside), then drove into the car in front of her, then backed in the cop car, then moved up, then backed into the cop car again, then drove away. That kind of stupid doesn't just grow on trees.

Listening to

4 3 2 1 - k-os

Thoughts

Sometimes a part of me wishes that it were Christmas so I could listen to "Baby It's Cold Outside" on repeat without feeling like a weirdo.

Watching

The Brothers Bloom
(500) Days of Summer

Deer in the headlights

Lazy Sunday

Me: "Oh my God, Luc! I just pumped some moisturizer onto my hand and it looks like a swan....exactly like a swan!"
Luc: "Wow...maybe you should take a picture and put it on your blog..."
Me: "Yeahh....wait. Are you being facetious?"
Luc: ..............
Me: "Screw you, I'm putting it on!"

Won't you be my neighbour?

Amidst the chaotic spring cleaning this morning, I paused long enough to notice a moving truck in front of our apartment building. Now it made sense to me why the normally quiet apartment above us sounded like it was hosting an indoor hockey tournament (that started at the unholy hour of 9:00am...on a Saturday...those assholes). I immediately began to feel guilty though, figuring that the old woman upstairs was moving because Luc and I are loud, inconsiderate neighbours. We frequently chase each other around the apartment, screaming like children (mostly Luc, not me, of course) and stay up past our bedtime on weekends playing loud music and getting drunk and belligerent, challenging our friends to wii boxing matches. The chasing each other bit was a habit that we started at our first place over three years ago. It was so bad that one afternoon while taking out the garbage, our landlord (who lived upstairs with his wife and daughter) stopped Luc for chat.

Landlord: "Luc...Luc, I wanted to talk to you about something, just listen, OK?"
Luc: "Yeah...sure, what's up?"
Landlord: "Luc, I know that you and Kristen argue sometimes, but Luc, it is never OK to hit a woman."
Luc: "Uhh..I think you..."
Landlord: "Please, just listen. It's never OK. There are no excuses for hitting a woman. You can get mad. You CAN get mad. But you never hit a woman, OK?"
Luc: (putting on his best 'serious' face and holding in laughter) "Yeah...OK, I...I understand."

Our landlord had heard us yelling and playing and chasing each other around and jumped to the outlandish conclusion that sweet, prairie boy Luc, the love of my life, was teaching me a lesson with the back of his hand. Ironically we ended up leaving that place because our landlord was too loud. By, "I live with my wife and baby", what he really meant tell us was: me and my 4-year-old daughter and my wife and my wife's sister and her 11-year-old son all live above you in a 2-bedroom suite....and another grown man is moving in with us shortly. He also failed to mention that his daughter had a pair of lungs on her like a howler monkey. Which she clearly inherited from Mama howler monkey.

Living at this new apartment has been great - I don't have to throw phone books at the ceiling at 3:00am anymore. And that, my friends, is luxury. But when I saw the moving truck, I feared that our upstairs neighbour held Luc and me in the same contempt as we had held our old landlord. Did she have to wear earplugs to bed every night because of us? Has she been spending nights, curled up in a ball screaming "shut the hell up" while cursing our names? Shortly after this bout of paranoia, Luc spoke to our now former-upstairs neighbour, and it turns out that she was supposed to move a long time ago but some arrangements had fallen through. So this evening, we will happily continue our ritual of drinking too much and beating the crap out of each other on wii boxing. Our old landlord never said anything to Luc about not virtually punching me in the teeth.

It's going to be that kind of night

Making new friends

Walking back from the liquor store.

Crazy old man: "You two look alike..."
Luc: "oh?"
Crazy old man: "YOU'RE BOTH ANGELS!"
Luc: "uhh.....o..k..."
Me: "At least he didn't say brother and sister."

Run for cover

Spring cleaning - two of the scariest words that Luc has ever heard.

Listening to

Old old fashioned - Frightened Rabbit



(not the real video but the real song)

Beautiful Day

Luc skimboarding in Tofino.

I want to rock your gypsy soul

Discipline

Since I don’t like to subject Luc to the awkwardness of buying “female products”, I walked across the street to Shopper’s Drug Mart to do the deed myself. After grabbing what I needed, I wandered to the Hallmark aisle. As I was innocently browsing the Mother’s Day cards, a frail, white-haired employee (we’ll call her Fran) rounded the corner, took one look at me and shouted:

Fran: “Are you going to put that away somewhere?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Fran: “Well don’t STEP ON IT!”

Me: (bewildered, looking down to see a card on the floor) “I...I didn’t see...I didn’t actually drop that...I didn’t notice...”

Fran: (slowly moving closer), “I SAAAID, PUT IT AWAY SOMEWHERE!!!”

Me: “What? I...I didn’t even drop it...I didn’t.....isn’t...isn’t that.....your.....job?”

Fran: “Put. That. Away. Don't just LEAVE IT SITTING THERE!”

I stood there stunned, feeling like I was being reprimanded. She was my great-grandmother and I was the defiant child. I wanted to talk back to this sour old bitty, but some instinct told me that I would surely be swallowed up and sent straight to hell if I talked back to a woman old enough to say things to Jesus like, “I remember you when you were thiiiiis big.” As I sheepishly reached for the card, she shook her head at me in disbelief and returned to the fiery dungeon beneath Shopper’s Drug Mart from whence she came.

I love lists

Reading comments on one site led me to another site, where I found this survey, and I thought to myself, "self, why not?"

What's your current obsession?
This blog; trying to "find my own voice" and post things that aren't completely boring.

What's your weirdest obsession?
Making up stories in my head - like when I'm on the elliptical on the 2nd floor of my office building, watching people cross the street and I make up stories about them and why certain people are together and where they're going, etc. Or lying to my friends and trying to make them believe ridiculous stories...but I always tell the truth after.

What are you wearing today?
I think I can be excused for my outfit-- I happen to be at home sick today (although starting to feel well enough to sit up for more than 10 mins at a time)...Luc's old, black U of S sweats and a blue, striped t-shirt with a cute little breast-pocket from Superstore's awesome clothing line, Joe.

Why is today special?
Because tomorrow is Friday and Friday is before the weekend and the weekend is the best time of the week because I don't have to work.

What would you like to learn to do?
Too much. I always write lists of things to accomplish...like learn to play the guitar, speak fluent German (I can get by, but I still get nervous about speaking in front of people), surf like a pro, cook really well....

What's for dinner today?
Not much of an appetite right now...I haven't been able to eat all day, but I've been toying with the idea of tomato soup for dinner.

What's the last thing you bought?
I went shopping last weekend and got a black cardigan, a sports bra, workout pants, a scarf, a black tank top and a grey t-shirt. What I was really looking for was a jacket or heavy sweater. Shopping FAIL.

What's your favourite weather?
Anything that can be seen here.

What's your most challenging goal right now?
Saving money for tuition...which involves avoiding these places: here, here and especially here.

What do you think about the person who tagged you?
You see, that's the sad part. Nobody "tagged" me because I don't have any friends who blog yet. Therefore, I have to read other people's blogs and take surveys like this and give them to myself. I think I'm going to change my "most challenging goal right now" to: not crying because I have no internet friends.

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
Well, if I still have to work after getting this amazing house, it would be one of those HUGE places right on Locarno Beach or Spanish Banks. If this house came with an equally wonderful trust fund, it would be in the French countryside.

Favourite vacation spot?
Nice, France. But for the all-inclusive hotel experience - Los Cabos. However, there are places that I've never been to before that I'm sure could blow both of those places out of the water.

What would you like to have in your hands right now?
The remote...Luc just got home from work and the TV is giving me a headache. But seriously, a large, Reese peanut butter cup blizzard from Dairy Queen. And a hot dog in the other hand. And an advance DVD viewing of the new Harry Potter movie...because I'm going to finish that hot dog pretty fast and I need something to put in my hand again.

What would you like to get rid of?
My hair. But I have a sneaking suspicion that underneath it all lies a misshapen head that would frighten young children. I wasn't given this head of uncontrollably thick hair for no reason - someone's clearly trying to cover something up here.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
A beach at an all-inclusive hotel where they have those beautiful, white canopy beds.








What's your favourite thing about the city you live in?
So easy: UBC campus in the fall, the mountains in the winter, the places to ride my bike in the spring (seawall, Steveston, tree-lined neighbourhoods), the beach in the summer, and all year round perks: great restaurants, tons of great concerts, good shopping, the Canucks and lots of family nearby.

If you had $150 to spend right now, what would you spend it on?

Custom, powder blue fenders for my cruiser bike.

Do you admire anyone's style?
Rachel Bilson and my friend Henghameh ...and Lady Gaga for her bold originality.

Describe your personal style.
I really don't think I could, to be honest. I don't think what I wear fits into one category.

What are three live shows that you have seen?
Cats, Hula Performance at the Polynesian Cultural Centre in Oahu and pretty much every band that I enjoy listening to.

Now I'm supposed to tag a blogger friend to do this survey too....someone start a blog dammit!!!

Confessions 2.0

Not nearly as ashamed about watching "Party of Five" reruns.

Confessions

At home sick again and watching "Are You Afraid of the Dark" ...and maybe even enjoying it. Cheesy 90's kids shows are better than cheesy daytime talk shows.

Listening to

Lifeboats - Snow Patrol



(not the real video but the real song)

Thoughts

Real sick days are nowhere near as fun as fake ones.

Taking it in the nose

This afternoon I fell asleep while waiting at the doctor's office. Luckily, this was in the doctor's actual office, and not in the waiting room. I would have been a divine vision for the other sickies; mouth agape, legs twitching wildly not unlike a dog running in his sleep. It was one of those half-sleeps where you're not completely out, and therefore is not satisfying and in no way leaves you refreshed.

After listing a Bible's length of symptoms (yes, fatigue was one of them), I left with a bevy of prescriptions, one of them being a nasal spray. Nasal spray always arouses distinct memories in me-- specifically, one evening in the bathroom at our old apartment, struggling in silence with my new nasal spray. The look on my face could be described as nothing other than constipated frustration. I nearly had to wrestle myself to the ground while trying to muster the courage to spray that crap up my own nasal passage. I was in a state of such quiet focus, that I barely heard the "unnhh" from next door. But I heard it...and I listened hard for another. Unfortunately, I could only hear passing cars and no other discernible sex noises. Just as I was about to continue my battle with the nasal spray, I heard it: SMACK!! After years of hand slapping and ass slapping (in volleyball...obviously), I know the sound of a hand to bare flesh when I hear it - and this smack was not cushioned even by so much as a thin leotard. This was skin on skin. I practically fell over myself running to find Luc to drag him back into the bathroom so that we could listen to the neighbours having sex.

I'm not particularly proud of what we did that night (or the other nights when the ass slapping and "unnh" noises were so loud we could hear them over the tap running and our toothbrushes scrubbing)....however, Luc and I have been known to shout "BOO-YAH" and slap high-five in a game of "Never ever have I ever" when someone says "never ever have I ever listened to someone else having sex." So this is why I smirked at the sight of "nasal spray" on my sheet of prescriptions. I can't so much as look at a container of nasal spray without slapping noises echoing out of my ears. It really is a shame we moved though; the only noise we can hear in our new apartment's bathroom is the faint tinkling through the vent of the guy next door taking a pee.

Better than a playoff beard?

A playoff crustache

Listening to

Geraldine - Glasvegas



Please, just listen to that silky, Scottish accent...

Obsessed with

7D Dried Mangoes

Wasting time

Writing in your Facebook status that you’re “procrastinating” is redundant. The act of using Facebook is an exercise in modern procrastination in the first place, so writing that you’re “procrastinating” is only a useless reiteration of what we already know. Nobody sits down at the computer, resolved to spend hours creeping around profile pages and updating their status. Facebook is not an activity, it's an evil diversion that I can no longer use at work because the site has been blocked. Fuck you Facebook....I miss you so much.

Watching the hockey game

Me: "Oh man, the Canucks are really shitting the bed."
Luc: "No, they already shit the bed, now they're just rolling in it."

Thoughts

A community is a place where you can sit on your apartment windowsill and chat with your friend standing in the street below.

Reading

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

Shopping Around

A few weeks ago our car stereo broke, so this weekend we went to Future Shop to buy a replacement. We intended to wait until we bought a new car, but we quickly learnt that the music had been drowning out our fevered, shrill screams directed at moronic drivers in morning rush hour. One more drive listening to each other holler obscenities at fellow commuters and our heads were going to explode, showering the road with expletives like the wreckage from a car crash.

Since I have no interest or knowledge in car electronics, I abandoned Future Shop for a distinctly female expedition: shopping for stuff I don't need. I bought a decorative scarf to wear with things like t-shirts and tank-tops, because that's the kind of Stuff White People Like; I got another sports bra so that I don't have to wear an old sweaty one when I forget to do the laundry; and I got some New York Fries in the food court, because what's the point of going to the gym if you don't have any fat to work off?

The most interesting part of the afternoon wasn't when Luc tried to show me how to navigate song folders and playlists on the new stereo, but rather my bizarre encounter with a peppy clothing store sales associate. Upon entering the store she gave me the obligatory, "hiiiiii, how's it going???", which elicited a half-assed smile and groan from me. This sedated reaction to a bubbly greeting usually ensures me at least a ten foot radius of browsing space. Maybe I don't shop enough and the purchaser-seller relationship has been restructured over the past few months, but it came as a shock to me when the girl asked what my plans were for the weekend. I stumbled over my answer, visibly perturbed by her needling into my personal life. "Uhhh...umm...I guess I'm watching the, uh, the hockey game tonight." She pressed on and asked where I was watching the game, whom I was watching the game with, and if I was going out afterwards. I crumbled under the pressure and ended up inviting her to watch the game at my parents' house and to stay for a sleepover...I think that was what she wanted, even though she declined my invitation. Luckily we had the new car stereo to muffle my tears of rejection on the drive home from the mall.

What happens when you don't pack a lunch

When did Subway become so terrible? When did they take the leap to become so monumentally shitty that putting lettuce, cucumbers and mayo on my minimalist sandwich turned into a feat only the greatest of minds could decipher and only those with the deftest touch of the hand could accomplish? Why do I feel like one of my 3 year old nieces could have better constructed this sandwich so that the few pieces of lettuce that managed to stay between the bread didn’t morph with excessive gobs of mayo into what looks like slimy sauerkraut from a hot dog street vendor? Did I eat the sandwich? Yes. Did I learn my lesson? No. Will I complain the next time this happens? Absolutely. I do it for the cookies – you can’t put $0.89 on your debit card without looking like a total fool.

Where I want to be right now

Taken by me at Quail's Gate Winery last May in Kelowna.

Quotes

"Taco Time heals all wounds." - Luc

Makes me smile

Walking over to my desk, chocolate bar in hand, and giving me that chocolate bar....I think I love you more than 5:00pm on a sunny, Friday afternoon.

Obsessed with

Restaurant City on Facebook

Monthly Photo - May 2009

The cherry blossoms outside our window

May 2009 Banner