I have to admit, since I got back from Spain three months ago I have been somewhat indifferent to blogging, as evidenced by my sporadic posting.
I really DO want to get back in to it, but I don't feel like I have anything to say. Maybe if I just post Inspiration will show up....? Who knows.
I have tentative and very fluid plans to hook up with Gina some time this summer. (I'd link to her blog but it's only open to invited readers....if you would like to read about a modern day homesteader, let me know; I'm pretty sure I can get you "invited".)
I went shopping in the US last weekend. One of the things I brought home was a set of flannel sheets. I have never slept on flannel in my life. And all I can think how is, "WHY NOT???" Holy moly I love tem, they are so warm and scrunchy and delicious.
Time to go make dinner....and I certainly acknowledge this post is lame to the Nth degree...but this is my life right now.
Happy.
Looking forward to meeting Gina.
Hungry for casserole.
Watching CNN.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Boys are such....boys
Two weeks ago, Husbandly One gave up on the snowblower we "acquired" last winter. In case you weren't here:
We needed a snowblower.
Someone High Up at work said, "Hey, give him the one the company bought ten years ago and we used ONCE."
Husbandly One and I thought, "Score!!"
Turns out the company bought it second (cough cough) hand, and the thing was at least thirty years old, probably more.
We took it to a re-furbisher, or whatever people who deal with old snowblowers are called, and he said, "I can fix this for three hundred dollars."
We paid the three hundred dollars.
It snowed.
Machine did not work.
We took it back, to be fair the guy did not charge us more, and then said, "Ok, NOW it works."
We brought it home.
It snowed.
It did not work.
Faaaaaaaaaaack.
Here's me, watching out the livingroom window at Husbandly One once again weilding a shovel...watching in case I have to call 911 and adminisiter CPR.
Three weeks ago, he realized that the"free" machine would never work, and
that he needed to buy something whose model year began with "20..."
(Quick aside: the snow has never been his exclusive domain, I have always gone out and shovelled when I could, in his stead, but the fact remains that I AM a small woman and shovelling isn't exactly easy for me, either. We won't discuss my strapping 24 year old step son, in the picture of health, who continues to live in the basement without contributing anything to the family dynamic. No, we won't go there...)
Anyway, so off Husbandly One went to purchase a new machine. Fifteen hundred dollars later, he was so proud of his new toy that he pulled me by the hand in to the garage, just so I could admire its fabulosity.
And then it didn't snow!
Three weeks. Nothing.
I am NOT making this up, two days ago he stood wistfully at our picture window, looking down on our bare driveway, and sighed, "I just wish it would snow...." About a half hour later, without saying a word, he walked down in to our garage, and I heard him START THE MACHINE, for no reason other than to listen to it.
Tonight he got his wish. There are ten centimetres down (four inches??Not sure) and the plow has been by twice, creating that nasty hump at the end of the driveway. He is currently out there with his new love, pushing his precious machine along in thin corridors, excavating the place where our cars live.
He is happy.
He's a MORON, but he's happy. Who am I to complain.
We needed a snowblower.
Someone High Up at work said, "Hey, give him the one the company bought ten years ago and we used ONCE."
Husbandly One and I thought, "Score!!"
Turns out the company bought it second (cough cough) hand, and the thing was at least thirty years old, probably more.
We took it to a re-furbisher, or whatever people who deal with old snowblowers are called, and he said, "I can fix this for three hundred dollars."
We paid the three hundred dollars.
It snowed.
Machine did not work.
We took it back, to be fair the guy did not charge us more, and then said, "Ok, NOW it works."
We brought it home.
It snowed.
It did not work.
Faaaaaaaaaaack.
Here's me, watching out the livingroom window at Husbandly One once again weilding a shovel...watching in case I have to call 911 and adminisiter CPR.
Three weeks ago, he realized that the"free" machine would never work, and
that he needed to buy something whose model year began with "20..."
(Quick aside: the snow has never been his exclusive domain, I have always gone out and shovelled when I could, in his stead, but the fact remains that I AM a small woman and shovelling isn't exactly easy for me, either. We won't discuss my strapping 24 year old step son, in the picture of health, who continues to live in the basement without contributing anything to the family dynamic. No, we won't go there...)
Anyway, so off Husbandly One went to purchase a new machine. Fifteen hundred dollars later, he was so proud of his new toy that he pulled me by the hand in to the garage, just so I could admire its fabulosity.
And then it didn't snow!
Three weeks. Nothing.
I am NOT making this up, two days ago he stood wistfully at our picture window, looking down on our bare driveway, and sighed, "I just wish it would snow...." About a half hour later, without saying a word, he walked down in to our garage, and I heard him START THE MACHINE, for no reason other than to listen to it.
Tonight he got his wish. There are ten centimetres down (four inches??Not sure) and the plow has been by twice, creating that nasty hump at the end of the driveway. He is currently out there with his new love, pushing his precious machine along in thin corridors, excavating the place where our cars live.
He is happy.
He's a MORON, but he's happy. Who am I to complain.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Just sing, sing a song
So as mentioned, two weeks ago I joined a choir.
This past Tuesday was my first practice, and I must admit I was scared out of my mind. I am actually a very shy person...the idea of walking in to a group of people who already knew each other, and where I knew NO ONE....well, let's just say it took all of my resolve to walk in to the practice.
The director, Monette, immediately gave me a huge smile, a hug, a binder full of music, and a gentle push over to where the other sopranos were. I found a place to sit at the very end of the very back row, trying to both blend in and disappear.
After a few minutes of warm ups, she passed out a new piece of music to the choir. I could hear apprehensive moans and groans from the women around me, clearly something really difficult was coming my way. Eeeep.
Wir Eilen. A beautiful and technically difficult piece of music, never mind the fact that the words are German and most of the women in the room had never tried to pronounce German in their lives. They were scared, both by the funny looking words and by the score with its unending trills.
I learned this song when I was twelve years old. As Monette clearly remembers.
"Irma, I want you to get right in the middle of the sopranos and sing LOUD, you can help them learn."
Heads swivelled to look at me, the unknown New Girl. It was an awkward feeling, but also quite comfortably vain at the same time. Here, ladies, I'll help you.
And so I moved to the centre, and I sang loudly, and I helped the ladies around me with their pronounciation, and was just generally an overall STAR. I rocked the house.
And after almost an hour of being the star, we moved on to a different piece of music. A piece I did not know in any way, shape, or form. I thought I remembered how to read music, but other than being able to time the silences properly? Apprarently NOT. Oh man, I sucked sooooo hard, and was quickly removed from my position of honour, ha ha. Am mere mortal after all, dammit.
The whole practice was wonderful and confusing and chaotic and holy CRAP I'm out of shape vocally and I didn't really get a friendly vibe out of anybody and so maybe I will never know anyone's name and I will always be the chick at the end of the back row with no friends but I don't care because I had fun and it's a way for me to get out of the house once a week and I think I'm going to really like it.
(Nice run on sentence!)
In other news, I saw Jon Lajoie in concert Thursday, it was AWESOME. Granted, Jon Lajoie's comedy is filthy and sophmoric....but sometimes you just gotta. If you're not familiar, check him out on YouTube. Please remember that I DID warn you that it's filthy.
That's all I've got for tonight... I really must get back to telling you about my Camino soon, seeing how I've been back for two months!
"
This past Tuesday was my first practice, and I must admit I was scared out of my mind. I am actually a very shy person...the idea of walking in to a group of people who already knew each other, and where I knew NO ONE....well, let's just say it took all of my resolve to walk in to the practice.
The director, Monette, immediately gave me a huge smile, a hug, a binder full of music, and a gentle push over to where the other sopranos were. I found a place to sit at the very end of the very back row, trying to both blend in and disappear.
After a few minutes of warm ups, she passed out a new piece of music to the choir. I could hear apprehensive moans and groans from the women around me, clearly something really difficult was coming my way. Eeeep.
Wir Eilen. A beautiful and technically difficult piece of music, never mind the fact that the words are German and most of the women in the room had never tried to pronounce German in their lives. They were scared, both by the funny looking words and by the score with its unending trills.
I learned this song when I was twelve years old. As Monette clearly remembers.
"Irma, I want you to get right in the middle of the sopranos and sing LOUD, you can help them learn."
Heads swivelled to look at me, the unknown New Girl. It was an awkward feeling, but also quite comfortably vain at the same time. Here, ladies, I'll help you.
And so I moved to the centre, and I sang loudly, and I helped the ladies around me with their pronounciation, and was just generally an overall STAR. I rocked the house.
And after almost an hour of being the star, we moved on to a different piece of music. A piece I did not know in any way, shape, or form. I thought I remembered how to read music, but other than being able to time the silences properly? Apprarently NOT. Oh man, I sucked sooooo hard, and was quickly removed from my position of honour, ha ha. Am mere mortal after all, dammit.
The whole practice was wonderful and confusing and chaotic and holy CRAP I'm out of shape vocally and I didn't really get a friendly vibe out of anybody and so maybe I will never know anyone's name and I will always be the chick at the end of the back row with no friends but I don't care because I had fun and it's a way for me to get out of the house once a week and I think I'm going to really like it.
(Nice run on sentence!)
In other news, I saw Jon Lajoie in concert Thursday, it was AWESOME. Granted, Jon Lajoie's comedy is filthy and sophmoric....but sometimes you just gotta. If you're not familiar, check him out on YouTube. Please remember that I DID warn you that it's filthy.
That's all I've got for tonight... I really must get back to telling you about my Camino soon, seeing how I've been back for two months!
"
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Greenest Loser - HELP ME
Things you must know...
1) in the past, our hotel has held our own Biggest Loser competitions, we have held up teams of three to the whole "percentage of weight lost" challenge.
2) this TOTALLY discriminates against people like me joining. For example, if I , as a 5'3" woman who weighs 130 lbs? If I lose 13 lbs, ie, 10% of my body weight, I end up at 117 lbs. And I think we can all agree I should NOT weigh any less than that. EVER.
3) So obviously nobody would ever want me on their team, especially if you have at least one REALLY heavy person on your team who can AFFORD to lose 30% or MORE of their body weight.
4) so, once again? I have no friends.
BUT.
What if, in addition to weight loss, you included a Local Diet Challenge? Say maybe, you would earn one point for every percentage of weight lost, PLUS you could also earn a point (half a point? I'm still working this out in my head...) for every pound of meat or produce you could prove you bought locally?
What I'm thinking is that we could issue our employees some kind of card, that they could take to the local farmers' market. And the vendors could sign off on anything you bought, record the amount of produce purchased. And you could get points for the Food Miles Saved.
Using myself as an example, I can't lose much more than 15 lbs (14% of my body weight) before it KILLS ME. As opposed to some of my more generously endowed colleagues, who could probably lose 100 lbs ( or 30% or more of their weight) and beat the crap out of me, even though the idea of me losing 30% would mean me ending up at 74 lbs. Sorry, that's just not fair.)
But add in the food miles thing? All of sudden, the playing field is equal. YOU can lose 100 lbs eating things that come from California. But If I lost ten lbs eating things that are local? I WIN.
Please please PLEASE point out the good points and the pitfalls in the above. Please, DO, seeing how I am trying to get my head around a program I can suggest to forty four hotels all across Canada.
(And yeah, I may potentially get some official work recognition for this...please help me!!)
1) in the past, our hotel has held our own Biggest Loser competitions, we have held up teams of three to the whole "percentage of weight lost" challenge.
2) this TOTALLY discriminates against people like me joining. For example, if I , as a 5'3" woman who weighs 130 lbs? If I lose 13 lbs, ie, 10% of my body weight, I end up at 117 lbs. And I think we can all agree I should NOT weigh any less than that. EVER.
3) So obviously nobody would ever want me on their team, especially if you have at least one REALLY heavy person on your team who can AFFORD to lose 30% or MORE of their body weight.
4) so, once again? I have no friends.
BUT.
What if, in addition to weight loss, you included a Local Diet Challenge? Say maybe, you would earn one point for every percentage of weight lost, PLUS you could also earn a point (half a point? I'm still working this out in my head...) for every pound of meat or produce you could prove you bought locally?
What I'm thinking is that we could issue our employees some kind of card, that they could take to the local farmers' market. And the vendors could sign off on anything you bought, record the amount of produce purchased. And you could get points for the Food Miles Saved.
Using myself as an example, I can't lose much more than 15 lbs (14% of my body weight) before it KILLS ME. As opposed to some of my more generously endowed colleagues, who could probably lose 100 lbs ( or 30% or more of their weight) and beat the crap out of me, even though the idea of me losing 30% would mean me ending up at 74 lbs. Sorry, that's just not fair.)
But add in the food miles thing? All of sudden, the playing field is equal. YOU can lose 100 lbs eating things that come from California. But If I lost ten lbs eating things that are local? I WIN.
Please please PLEASE point out the good points and the pitfalls in the above. Please, DO, seeing how I am trying to get my head around a program I can suggest to forty four hotels all across Canada.
(And yeah, I may potentially get some official work recognition for this...please help me!!)
Sunday, January 3, 2010
What did I just do??
I received an email from an old, old friend. (think: when I was twelve) She is now an accomplished singer, and a highly lauded university professor, teaching voice.
So she sent out a blanket email to people she knows know how to sing, myself included.
She is recruiting for her choir.
And I-- omigod, I -- responded, saying I would love to be part of the choir.
And, umm, now she is expecting me to show up at their next practice, on Tuesday. You know, two days from now.
What did I just do???
So she sent out a blanket email to people she knows know how to sing, myself included.
She is recruiting for her choir.
And I-- omigod, I -- responded, saying I would love to be part of the choir.
And, umm, now she is expecting me to show up at their next practice, on Tuesday. You know, two days from now.
What did I just do???
New Year
So here it is, somehow 2010, somehow a new decade.
Last night, we experienced an extended power outtage. From 6 pm until just past midnight, we only had each other and the soft light of candles. I managed to get Husbandly One talking about his time in th army, his service during the Portuguese Revolution in the Seventies, story after story after story. When our house became too cold to continue sitting in te livingroom, we cuddled together in bed, but he did not stop talking.
I love those times, the times when he tells me who he really is, who he really was.
Power came back on at 1:00 am. We both got out of our warm bed, he so he could check his on-line soccer league, me so I could get something to eat. I then went to bed.
He woke me at 5:00 am to you know....(sorry, family members) And when we were done, when neither one of us could think rationally anymore, I flung my arm around him and said, "I love you."
He pulled me closer to him, pushed his cold feet against mine, and sighed, "I love you,too."
Is there anything better than lying in bed in a warm house, with the person you love, knowing nothing can hurt you?
Last night, we experienced an extended power outtage. From 6 pm until just past midnight, we only had each other and the soft light of candles. I managed to get Husbandly One talking about his time in th army, his service during the Portuguese Revolution in the Seventies, story after story after story. When our house became too cold to continue sitting in te livingroom, we cuddled together in bed, but he did not stop talking.
I love those times, the times when he tells me who he really is, who he really was.
Power came back on at 1:00 am. We both got out of our warm bed, he so he could check his on-line soccer league, me so I could get something to eat. I then went to bed.
He woke me at 5:00 am to you know....(sorry, family members) And when we were done, when neither one of us could think rationally anymore, I flung my arm around him and said, "I love you."
He pulled me closer to him, pushed his cold feet against mine, and sighed, "I love you,too."
Is there anything better than lying in bed in a warm house, with the person you love, knowing nothing can hurt you?
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Last night I dreamed
I was among women friends, women I do not know in real life. We were all preparing for our weddings, on the side of a cliff. I could see down to my left, see the waves not crashing, but gently lapping at the hill.
Three or four of them went in to a bridal salon, to re-emerge in white glory. I then worked up the courage to go inside myself. I saw many wedding dresses I wanted, dresses that I thought would set off my figure to best advantage. But the only dress put apon me? My dress from my wedding to my first husband, fifteen years ago.
"No", I cried. "This isn't right, I don't want this." But still, the long tight sleeves envelopped my wrists, I looked down on the pointed lace on my hands. I craned my head back and saw in the mirror the way the bodice hugged me, saw in a clear light the beads, the pattern it made on my body.
I recognized that it fit me in a way nothing ever could, but at the same time it all felt slightly wrong, like I had failed to check off some elusive step on my way to greeting my second husband-to be.
I remember saying, "I don't WANT this, make it STOP", and then somehow I was out of the sleeved and stifling gown, and in a strapless dress. My hair was no longer loose and free, but held out of my vision by a loose braid.
And there was Husbandly One.
He didn't seem exceptionally happy to see me, but he wasn't turning away, either. He clasped my hand and laughed quietly. Without me wishing it, most of my wedding to my First Husband flashed before my eyes.
But at the last minute, that moment before I repeated what My First Husband had said? Husbandly One chuckled, and somehow got ahold of my hand. And then it was nothing but him. I knew I was experiencing many things at once, knew I was both marrying First Husband AND declaring vows to the Second... but only the Second Husband mattered in that moment.
I hope that, someday, I will have the honour of pledging myself to him for real.
Three or four of them went in to a bridal salon, to re-emerge in white glory. I then worked up the courage to go inside myself. I saw many wedding dresses I wanted, dresses that I thought would set off my figure to best advantage. But the only dress put apon me? My dress from my wedding to my first husband, fifteen years ago.
"No", I cried. "This isn't right, I don't want this." But still, the long tight sleeves envelopped my wrists, I looked down on the pointed lace on my hands. I craned my head back and saw in the mirror the way the bodice hugged me, saw in a clear light the beads, the pattern it made on my body.
I recognized that it fit me in a way nothing ever could, but at the same time it all felt slightly wrong, like I had failed to check off some elusive step on my way to greeting my second husband-to be.
I remember saying, "I don't WANT this, make it STOP", and then somehow I was out of the sleeved and stifling gown, and in a strapless dress. My hair was no longer loose and free, but held out of my vision by a loose braid.
And there was Husbandly One.
He didn't seem exceptionally happy to see me, but he wasn't turning away, either. He clasped my hand and laughed quietly. Without me wishing it, most of my wedding to my First Husband flashed before my eyes.
But at the last minute, that moment before I repeated what My First Husband had said? Husbandly One chuckled, and somehow got ahold of my hand. And then it was nothing but him. I knew I was experiencing many things at once, knew I was both marrying First Husband AND declaring vows to the Second... but only the Second Husband mattered in that moment.
I hope that, someday, I will have the honour of pledging myself to him for real.
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