Westbound

I packed a bag this morning and climbed into my little green Ford Focus. I was heading West. Towards BC and towards friend-Shannon and friend-Zachary. The visiting is really secondary. The actual pull for this trip was the 12 hours I would have alone in the car with only my thoughts and imagination to keep me company. Then multiply it by two since I planned on coming home less than two days after I arrive. If you include pee breaks, that works out to about 28 hours of solitude. Solitude and a whole lot of singing along with the stereo.


Now when I have even a few moments to myself, my imagination wants to take flight. Today, it had free reign.



Somewhere between Edson and Hinton, the landscape changed ever so slightly as I was looking at it... roads disappeared, people and cars vanished and in the stead, dinosaurs roamed. Not just lumbering beasts, like Brontosaurus or fierce theropods like Albertosaurus, but even Procomsognathus. I could feel the ground shake beneath me as the large sauropods made their way past me.


I was brought back to this world by a worrisome buzzing in my car (terrified it was a bee, I tried to remain calm and not drive my car off the road, taking out whomever was unlucky enough to be in the car behind me). I soon realized the noise was nothing more than the seat belt rubbing against the casing and I was reminded of a Gary Lawson Far Side cartoon about a giant bumble bee sitting calmly in the back of a woman's car.

Road Trip as seen through eyes of a perpetual list maker

OK, so writing the trip in chapters is not going to work for me. Too many thoughts that don't matter run into each other and I simply cannot find joy in writing like that. Let's try something new. Something near and dear to my heart. Lists. Here are things we've done, seen, said and laughed at. I hoping that by expelling these bits, I may see the trip for what it surely must be... AMAZING.

1. Jasper (the park, not the city) is freaking huge... especially when it's pitch black out and you're tired and just want to get to Valemount and go to bed.

2. Following a truck through most of the windy turns in Jasper will do much to alleviate the feeling of impending doom that waits for you in the darkness.

3. Sometimes the Universe does all it can to correct the small mistakes that happen in life. When a travel booking site switched reservations for they wrong type of room, the wonderful woman at the hotel asked 20 or so rooms if they wanted to switch rooms and no one did. When we arrived, we let her know that the "mistake" was in fact what we wanted. We averted a small crisis and tension filled night. Yay Team Universe!



4. Driving along the highway... sorry, Freeway in American speak, in Washington, I noticed to the side of the road, in the distance, a NUCLEAR POWER PLANT. My mom and I spent a good half hour or so trekking back to find it so we could snap a picture of it... we even did a little off roading to find it.

5. I forgot to take out a toy out of the car I bought for my dog, Chyna (nicknamed Chin-nee) before we left. He is a stuffed guinea pig from Ikea and can now be found in random shots of the trip. He's been christened Guinea Chin-nee and has thus enjoyed the trip so far.

6. I had Guinea Chin-nee on my lap along the way, for no apparent reason other to keep it from falling out of the car while my mother was getting in and out. We had stopped for gas somewhere in Oregon and I was enjoy the Full Service station we had pulled in at. I gave the lad my credit card and was enjoying a moment of solitude. He came over to the window to check my ID (stupid boys name!) and walked away a moment later, with a look that was somewhere between fear and confusion. I didn't understand until I looked down. Not only was Guinea Chin-nee on my lap in plain sight, but I had be PETTING him! Rubbing his back and scratching behind his ears...

7. I spent the most delightful quarter of an hour on a deserted beach at 6 am in Lincoln City. Alone with nothing but my imagination and the ocean, looking through the haze at what was before and behind me, I caught the echo of something... the stirring of someone long passed. I saw this through the haze that had fallen and heard it through the pounding of the surf. A story lay within and I need only to coax it out.

It's late and after driving the insane I-80, I am off to bed... the list will continue a different day.

Road Trip... A story of the open road, told in chapters

Prologue

I decided to take my parents on a trip for their 40th wedding anniversary. A road trip to San Francisco, via the Oregon coast was soon decided upon. I would foot the bill for it all... food, gas, accommodations and attractions. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself until a few days later my father bailed out. When I re-iterated that this was an anniversary present for he and mom, he still didn't want to go, citing his health and inability to keep up with us. I tried to convince him otherwise, but could not change his mind. Now the poor man is stuck in Edmonton babysitting my two cats along with my mom's two dogs.... all of whom could win the douche-bag of the year contest-pet division.

And so the trip has been planned (my darling mother was given the task of booking motels and hotels along the way which necessitated researching mileage between stops and figuring it out what attractions we wanted to see and how long it would take us to do everything we wanted). We were to leave as soon as I was off work on Thursday... throw her bags in the trunk and hit the open road. What actually happened is that my cat, who had been at my parent's house for 4 days heard me come home and thought she was going to be thrown in her carrier and hid. Hid so well we couldn't find her when I wanted to say goodbye. Hid so well, we spent 30 minutes looking for her and believing she got out. My mother was muttering hateful things about my cat and I, in turn, was muttering hateful words about her attitude. We finally found her under a bed we had each looked under twice before. Tensions were still running high when we piled in the car. We made it as far as Stony Plain when I realized I couldn't see out of my streaky, dirty windshield. We stopped and bought Windex, since I had forgotten to pack some. After much spraying and wiping and veiled comments by us both about how late it was, we were finally on our way.

Filters

When Shannon and I started to hang out we learned that each of us were suffering from a condition we so fondly christened, "a lack of filter". This is to say that whatever was swirling around inside our little noggins, would tend to pop out if the opportunity presented itself. Never was it malicious, though, hurtful it still could be. We were more the type that would actually tell people if we were sad (after they had asked how our day was), or on the other side of the spectrum, would gush all the goodness we felt about a person when they happened to come round. Long ago my filter grew back. I found that my spouting off everything I was feeling made it hard to work, hard to play and hard to feel like an average person. I found that I needed a balance between letting my heart show and keeping everything walled up inside my inner fortress (which is how I was prior to this).

So, I do understand a thing about filters. I also understand about putting a foot in one's mouth. I've done that, too. But each time it's happened, I've known what I've done. I've apologized, and those "I'm sorry"s have been heart felt and sincere.

Now, what I am coming to understand is that not everyone cares if they hurt someone's feelings. They do not care that using the disclaimer, "I don't mean to offend you, but..." or "I'm saying this as a friend..." doesn't make it OK. Yes, we've all offended people, but when that happens, we do our best to make ammends. Or at least some of us do.

Is it time to subtract more from my life? I just finished, earlier this week, my post about weeding bad things (people) out. At that time, I was feeling good about those I allow in. Now, I am unsure. What's worse is that it's not just ONE person. I've had no less than FOUR people, this week, disappoint me in how they treat me. And when told that I did not appreciate how things were going down, I was either ignored or told I was over reacting and being bitchy. I am tempted to come out of my corner, fighting... stooping to the same level as they do. But then I know I am more talk than action in that respect, I couldn't live with myself knowing I'd hurt someone I cared about.

Mathematics

Lately, I have been thinking about the math of my life. There are always new equations to contend with: the addition and, sometimes, subtraction of people and ideals. There is the algebra aspect, where I try to make each side of a new situation even. And, always, I try to keep my answers in the "real" realm, that is to say that I require a positive and not a negative outcome.

While it is true that I am a sole number, I would not go back to being the second half of the pair I once was. I realize that I am better off with my ever changing formulas. I can factor out that which I do not need to make my life work.

My additions far outweigh that which was taken away.

I could never believe my friendship with Shannon ever getting past the initial, polite stages had it not been for late night phone calls, distracting emails and random bursts of laughter over very weird and random things.

I can't imagine not only being so close to my cousin Steven, if it hadn't been for my being on my own.

Never would I have considered Brandy more than family, had it not been for being forced to put my trust in someone new. Any friendship we may have had would never have been so strong... never would we have had shared experiences and stories and early morning secrets while travelling.

I would have lost out on lessons of friendship and committment from Carol. I would have missed knowing there was someone so similar to myself, and yet so completely different. I would have never had the pleasure of introducing Gladys and Millie to the world, emailing walkie talkie sounds or bouncing rubber balls in a church parking lot in the dark of night.

Missing from life would have beem seeing Julie cry when she laughs, and feeling like I'd accomplished something great when it was I that reduced her to those tears. I would not have ever received text messages on my cell about toast, or Jesus or Tim Horton's chili. I would have missed out on boy talk, birthday surprises and much giggling.

Kept to the sidelines would have been Des, Pat, Wing and Johnny. I would never known the delight that is every other person I choose to have in my life. I would not believe myself to be a storyteller, or someone that could make people laugh. I would never have licked Chaucer's tomb or the tower of London. I would never have been kissed in Scotland (nor Greece, for that matter). There would have been no call to sew a superman cape or to admit to a crush on a friend. I would have missed having Stewart and Elizabeth. I would even have missed out on making mistakes and poor decisions.

These additions are what my life are. I would gladly give up, once again, what I had for them. I would live through the sadness and the pain to have what I have now. I am more complete, more balanced for having been part of a subtraction.

Tidbits

The past few days, perhaps even nearing a week or two, there has been a substantial change in my funny bone. Something is different, and while I am not sure what this could be, it seems positive, and has lasted for more than an hour or two, so I am claiming it. It's mine. It's brought me to a place I was before. Nearly six months (or possibly much more than that, I fear) has passed since I've felt myself.

Now, for anyone who know me (or at least knows the good part of me), this will be demonstrated by the fact that I have reverted back to a state where I find much more of life fairly random and am given to fits of giggling because it really is ever so ridiculous.

Though I am sure not everyone will get these, and those that do, will probably not understand why I am printing them (perhaps being funny only to myself). The following statements and ideas (or something close to them, since I am not even pretending to use direct quotes) have caused me much joy:

When talking about sending Kenny a singing telegram for his birthday, "man in a chicken suit OK?" is the greatest question one can ask. Being told that said chicken would receive a thrashing for his troubles is an adequate, if not laughable, response.

Telling Shannon that Sundays should not include dinner parties will then degenerate to mumbling (via msn, no less) about how Sundays are for movies and just what the proper placement of butter in a bag of popcorn should be... which then leads to a rant about how other nations should have free refills so that one can send Julie for a refill before the movie starts, but to make sure she doesn't take any money with her, just to see if she can get free butter.

Having spent an entire day (noon to 8 PM) with Carol... with nearly six hours of that day being spent at The Tea Place (much to the dismay of the owners and employees, I am sure). While sitting at the table we have now claimed as our own, we experienced all the flavours of life: philosophical and theological discussions, pie, laughter, tears, discussions and confessions of bodily functions and even a practical demonstration of how dwelling on the topic of broken bones can make a person physically sick.

Waterpark hair.

"Bobbie, I think we are missing a lot of pieces to this puzzle!" (in reference to the 100 piece puzzle... children's puzzle... that we assembled at The Tea Place) We were not missing pieces, by the way, we are just too hasty when we can't make the pieces fit right away.

Big Hair Carol.

Hearing there is a "more efficient way" to fill the princess pez dispensers than how we had been doing it all our lives before.

Windsor salt, old beer commercials and being Canadian.

Ninja skills being discussed as a standard for accepting a man as a potential mate.

Being told by Wayne that it's just like before going to war.

Going to ask Julie a question about a bridesmaid dress and instead being reduced to laughter through tears (when I needed it most).

"If I don't laugh, I'll cry."

Cheese discussions at I.G.A. with Tanya, my only contribution being, "I like provalone." Having Tanya say it, at the same time, being an added bonus.

J.C. text messages from both Brandy and Julie (making my catholic heart guffaw and cringe, all at the same time!).

Travel talk with strangers.

"If you aren't going to show, just say so..." (being called on a most unpleasant character trait and having a good time because of it).

"I will order... one bowl of steamed white rice... oh, I didn't really want that, I was just being an ass."

"Happy Birthday. That is all."

As a side note, I find every person who made an appearance here, whether named or unnamed, remarkable.

For Sale

For Sale:

One Castle.

Fortified stone walls reaching 40 feet, vertically, and surrounding the property, ensure privacy AND protection from pesky outsiders.

High slit windows, originally intended for defending against attackers, pilagers and other unwanted visitors, also add the illusion of eternal dusk. This preferred new style of lighting enhances all decor, no matter how dismal.

Security equals safety with a traditional European moat, fully loaded with snapping turtles, alligators and pirahnas. This waterway circles the entire grounds and boasts a newly stained drawbridge for access in and out of the property.

Drawbridge is in working order, though will require maitenance, as its spring mechanism tends to snap back, pulling the bridge up at any given time (whether actually in use or not). (Drawbridge workmen may be able to deodorize the moat water, as it has become stagnant and smells as soon as the light of day hits it).

Sentries are not required, though this castle does employ a full staff, presently. The guards can be kept on retainer, if desired.

Surrounding area is heavily forested and makes for a delightful backdrop, should one climb high enough to stare out the slit windows. It should be noted that would be visitors CAN hide in the woods, so extra caution should be taken in keeping any and all people out.

Cost of Castle and those amenities included: Am willing to negotiate.

My Mom thinks I'm cool...

I was talking to my mom on the phone today, about a friend. We were talking about relationships and I mentioned that this friend has his fancy set on someone. My mom asked, "Is it Bobbie, he maybe likes?". No, I answered, it's not me. Then I realized this is not the first time my mother has assumed that very thing. Whenever I bring up a friend or aquaintence, she seems to think that this person is enamoured with myself. I will never understand why she thinks this, but my life has now boiled down to, "But my mom thinks I'm cool enough.".

Sucking the marrow out of life

Christmas time means many things to many people. In my family it means huge upheaval and usually a big blowout between the parents. This time of good tidings and joy seems to be a catalyst for tears, yelling and the threat of divorce. And who is standing between them? Me. I am pulled into the drama, with phone calls at work, phone calls at home and the imminent display of emotions when I stop by to visit.

So, it has dawned on me, yet again, that my family sucks the life right out of me. With the exception of faking my own death and living a life of quiet solitude abroad, in Scotland, I have no idea what I can do. And I now realize the severity of the problem when the only plan that is appealing to me is to fake a shark attack and leave only my underwear (with my name clearly written with a black sharpie inside so as to easily identify the "remains") behind. I do wonder if any of them would believe a shark attack? Probably not, since landlocked Alberta probably comes in somewhere near the bottom of the list for fatalities at sea. What about a farming incident? No, they would expect to find body parts along with the underpants. Besides, everyone knows I lack the proper plow skills to work on a farm (although NOT having plow skills could CONTRIBUTE to my demise, now couldn't it?).

I must face facts. I am stuck between a rock and bunch of nutters, and no amount of strewn underwear is going to get me out.

Drivel

Thoughts written as I was sitting in a Second Cup. I had been invited out for coffee by a friend, and was left to my own devices to find amusement when the girl he liked called him. Here is the fruit of my boredom...

I dream of seeing you when you are old. Your skin will be soft and wrinkled; your silver hair will be thinned to near baldness. I will be happy to know you had never even attempted to hide it with a bad comb-over. You reason that, in your life, you had laughed at too many uncles and your father’s friends to try it with a clear conscience. Your eyes will be magnified by the thick lenses you will have to wear; but I will tease you that it only means that I get to see even more of your beautiful eyes. You will hold my gaze and tell me they are only reflecting the beauty you see in me. I will give you a little laugh and lightly slap you across your shoulder, letting you know I can see through your flattery, but inside I will feel the same thrill as I did when I was a girl and looked as pretty as I felt.


I look forward to hear what you will tell our children as they move out of our nest and begin their lives apart from us. Your advice will fill their ears with wisdom from our life together; my head will fill with the memories that cast that counsel. The peace and calmness of our home will be restored once more, reminiscent of a time before teenagers, children or babies, when it was but the two of us. Now, as then, I can hear you call to me, “I love you…” from some other room in the house. I will follow the sound of your voice and when I find you, you will embrace me from behind. You will whisper to me that I am your happiness, your reason for being. My heart will be so light with the joy I feel to be near you. I will respond to your words with a kiss loaded with my own blissful thoughts of you.

I am eager to sit with you outside, watching the sun rise after talking all night. We will have been fighting about some trivial thing which felt so much bigger a few hours before. After our anger has been spent, we will begin the act of reconciling by holding each other’s hands, and eventually cuddling in the chilled dawn air. You will wrap me up in the sweater you had been wearing, and your scent embraces me just as your arms do. Your own smell is a gentle presence reminding me of everything you mean to me. You catch me breathing in the fragrance that is you and I will hear you laugh. You tell me that on those rare occasions when we find ourselves sleeping apart, in different beds in distant cities, you have breathed in my own scent from my pillow as you lay waiting to doze off. You will say that some little piece of me is needed to close your eyes and let go. Much like our youngest daughter, I think, whose purple teddy is required before laying down to sleep.

I desire to stand beside you, my hand holding yours, as we recite our vows of love and of a promised lifetime together. A few years later, I will be anxious to inform you that you will be a father. This is something I will say to you three times, each time with cheeks flushed, anticipating your reaction... you never disappoint me. In our years together we will relate to each other the daily trials and delights that make up life. Through my tears I will recount the story of our eldest child’s first steps, and her subsequent spill into the corner of the coffee table, as we sit in the emergency waiting room. In this same room, at some future time you will tell me how our son’s broken arm isn’t the end of the world; it is just the end of his baseball season. During these growing years we will make known to each other our hopes for our family, for each other, and we will also share our fears. Every day, I will tell you the most important thing I have in my heart… “I love you”. Again and again, you never disappoint me with your reaction.

I long to feel your lips on mine; every day your touch reminding me of our first kiss after you will have walked me to my door. One of your hands will guide me by the small of my back; the other entwines its fingers through mine. Since then, our hands have spent much of their time together like this, a better fit could not be found for either of us. From the beginning of our relationship to the end of our time together, your touch will be a constant source of both comfort and strength to me. You have never shied away from telling me that through each one of the thousands of kisses we’ve shared I have always made you feel like I did on our first date; that even now you get weak in the knees each time our lips meet.

I wait with bated breath for all these things; for my senses to be filled with you.

Two Days

I've had two days off (well, with the exception of all the blasted phone calls from work) and trekked into Vancouver for both. I thought I should enjoy them, since it will be a good long time until I get another. I'm down two managers, two assistant managers and countless staff. In fact, I've lost even more staff this week... Wait, I am getting off topic, I was going to write about my days downtown.

I ventured into Vancouver yesterday, intent on seeing the Chinese garden that is nestled in the heart of downtown. It wasn't as great as I was hoping, but I did spend a leisurely hour in one of its rooms, reading and writing and listening to the noises within and beyond the walls of the scholars garden.

I decided to walk around Chinatown after that. I ate a rather large plate (well, half of it) of chow mein in a divey little restaurant and made my way back home.

Today, I went to the Vancouver Aquarium. I did manage to get a little lost downtown but still managed to magically find the right bus to take me to Stanley Park. I haven't been to Stanley Park since I was a very little girl, so little I don't remember being there... I have only old photographs to testify to it. There is something about being out among the trees, walking in the fresh air, that revives the soul. I found my way to the aquarium and spent a few hours befriending fish and turtles and otters. I even crossed paths with a random peacock when I making my way out of the park. I let myself be carried away by the wonder of seeing animals wandering about. I let myself smile at strangers, not because I have to, but because there was some joy in my being. I let myself be.

Dusk was starting to blanket the park and I decided to follow one of the paths (they had christmas lights throughout the park). Stanley Park in full daylight can be ominous, take most of the light out of it and it is enough to send chills up and down your spine. I walked as far in as I dared, remembering the tales of serial killers and abductions my parents told us about at an early age. I sat for a small while and listened to the wind in the trees. I felt the damp tree stump beneath my bottom and smelled pine and mint and a few other outdoorsy delights.

I found a small piece of myself these past two days.

Burnaby Bound...

So I am laying in my hotel bed, safe in the heart of Burnaby BC. I came as I had heard there was a spotting of the elusive Brown Bear! Too excited to stay put in my own prairie home, I jetted off early this morning to the clean mountain air in hopes of FINALLY meeting this furry little fiend.

Just kidding... BB, I am sure, will remain a mystery to me for a while yet.

I am here for work. To be honest, I can't really tell you exactly WHAT part of work has me here, but here I am and here I will stay for the next five days. I am to be helping the manager here learn, well, how to manage. Specifically, how to manage staff. So now I have to tell her just what is working and what is not. The thing is, I know that what I tell her should help... but if the situation was reversed and someone came in telling me I wasn't doing the job how they would, I would have a snit fit in record time. Then again, this IS supposed to be my strong point, dealing with staff. All I have to say about that is, BOO!

So, with any luck, I will have a few days off to hang out here (woohoo?). Any suggestions as to how to spend my days off would be appreciated.

Wow, this post really is craptacular in its content. Sorry about that. Maybe if Brown Bear were here, it would be different...

Them polyester pants...

There has been a running joke in our family for years now about a particular pair of red and white checked, double knit, polyester pants. While looking through our photo albums, in about every fourth photo you are bound to see one of the ten grandchildren wearing the pants. Boys, girls, doesn't matter, it's the same pair of pants, I know it! You can see how they must have been passed down from cousin to cousin as they make their way through birthdays, Easters and christmases.

I have brought the pants up to others around my age, throughout the years, and they swear that their entire family owned a similar pair of pants. No one remembers who they belonged to originally, and no one knows where they went. So, there is only one logical conclusion: it must be the same pair of pants. So far, no one has been able to prove otherwise: there have been no receipts presented from Woolworth's or Kresge's; no one still has a pair packed away in a trunk in the attic with their name printed on the inside of the waist.

Today, while sitting around my mom's table, flipping through christmas flyers, the pants decided to resurface in our conversation. My sister had been speaking of how polyester of any type chaffes when wet, like when you spend a recess outside in the rain and how your polyester pants would then rub and irritate you all during gym class. I took the scenario a wee bit further. I pointed out that polyester pants, especially the double knit kind that our family passed around, RETAINED heat when wet, and that what was worse than rain or snow was pee! "Yes, I cried, "remember when we were walking home from school one day when I was five and I couldn't hold it any longer, so I peed my pants?" The feeling of hot urine and man made fiber is one that has yet to leave me, even after 27 years. I am sure that having to walk home another two blocks in that matter, bawling and stinking as I was, had something to do with the lasting impression it made... but not much.

So to all who are 30+, remember your own childhood closets and the endless stories that can be pulled from the fashions your parents thought were cool. Remember how it wasn't considered embarrassing to have the same shirt your sister wore three years before, even though both of your grade five school pictures look exactly the same. Remember your own pair of double knit pants... they deserve it... they worked hard for your entire family.

At least I wrote something

Oh, how I've been negligent in posting. As I've said before, it's a sure sign that the mind is cluttered and feelings of being overwhelmed must be floating about. I don't know what in my life has me so on the run from own creativity. Wait, I suppose I do. A general feeling of inadequacy is what I believe it is, though I am not sure if that's the right words to describe it, entirely.

Worry not, it's not as bad as it sounds. I've just been stressed at work (I know, hasn't everyone) and what is really bad is that is mostly my doing. I have gotten to a point where I let everything I do, and let everything that is being said to me, hit me in a personal way. I take too much responsibility for the consequences and not nearly enough in the execution of tasks before hand. It's a life theme, believe me. It just seems to be catching up with me. I know that my resolve should be to just do better. Complete what I have to. But it seems that I never do it. I would like to say it's because there is simply too much to do... but then why can everyone else do it?

I have come up with an answer for that question too. My need for balance. I've always been one to search and search for balance in my life and it has dawned on me this past year that I do so with such vigor that I wind up getting a bit out of control, then I over correct, throwing myself off balance even more. Ever twirl on a chair, as a child, and you spin so fast you think you are gonna fall, but it's just your perception? So, you shift your weight and wind up tumbling to the ground when, had you just stayed the course, you would still be seated. Then of course people come running to find out what the commotion is all about, possilby to yell at you for breaking something, or causing their nerves to fray by just being yourself. Well, that's me, in a big old nutshell, overturned chair, broken lamp and bruised bottom in all.

The good news is, I am not governed by my complete lack of balance and resultant sore backside. Let's face it, didn't you always wind up laughing hysterically when you shot off the spinning chair?

Since I've not posted for so long (again), here's just an update on things that have been happening:


Carol celebrated her 22 birthday last weekend. It was such a good time. I got to hang out with her sister (who can completely crack me up at any given moment, even when she doesn't mean to). Lyssa was also present and we did our best to work our way down the drink menu. I also got to spend some time with both Simon and Michele, which was also fantastic. It's been about a year since we've gotten together and it was simply delightful.

During the course of the night, we exchanged stories (how Simon and Carol actually met... both sides of it); my birth control story (which did cause a negative reaction for one person-but after having a heart to heart with both Simon and Michele, I felt better about things as a whole) and a few other tales and inside jokes.

A few weeks ago, Julie, Carol and I went on a ghost walk. It was great fun and I will post pictures as soon as I get them from Julie. It wasn't nearly as scary as the ones Brandy and I went on in Edinburgh, but still a good night.

I was hoping for a frightful Halloween night. Nothing really panned out, so I spent the night with a couple of pizzas and a friend. A marathon nap ensued. It just goes to show that I am a better sleeper if someone else is around... just ask Shannon. I have been unconcious more than I have been awake whenever I stay with her family (there's always some friend or pet to nap with there). All in all, it was a good night.

There have been realizations, though no great epiphanies. I've sent these off to friends, and received a few in reply. It's good to know that I'm not the only one that is still trying to figure out what the heck is going on in life.

Tonight will be a movie with friends and mmmm chinese food afterwards.

Hugs and Hershey kisses

Bad Children

I was rereading some old Livejournal entries and I came upon this one that made me laugh. I was feeling most melodramatic, as you will soon see. I wanted to wallow in my little mood and have my woe exposed for the world to see. It didn't quite happen that way...


BAD CHILDREN
Have you ever seen a Bad Child? I am not talking about a loud child of five, who insists on running around touching things with his icky-sticky fingers. I am not referring to a twelve year old that can only whine and complain.

This is the person that hears she disappoints all around her. This is the one that has been told he has a little black heart and can do no right in his world. It is this Bad Child that all parents hope their young ones never grow up to be. Have you seen a child such as this?


SIMON:
Yes, I have.Oh, wait, you said seen, not been.

BOBS:
Ah Simon! Haven't you guessed just who the Bad Child is?

SIMON:
Me?

BOBS:
Simon, I could never see you as a Bad Child, you are too dear to have a black little heart. However, I will let you know that a Bad Child, indeed, can only be seen in a mirror.

SIMON:
Is this like Bloody Mary?

BOBS:
Yeah, but in this horror story, I am the bad guy.(I wonder what would happen if you said my name ten times, really fast, in the bathroom, with the lights out?)

SIMON:
My roommate knocked on the door and asked who I was talking to.I said "The mirror".He just walked away.

BOBS:
Simon, You have succeeded in making a Bad Child, with a black heart laugh at the world....this is why I love and cherish you.

SIMON:
Carol says I get ten points and a gold star sticker.

CAROL:
I did say that.

A few moments for Annie

I wrote a list of all I had to accomplish today. I did it when I was very tired last night and managed to get pretty much all that had been on my mind, at least written down (if not actually accomplished yet). I went to bed and left the list for the morning.

I woke up and dragged my butt around the house, finally settling down to start my work for the day. The list proved helpful, as it had individual tasks for that needed attention for work, mundane household chores, even a trip to the library to pick up some books I'd put on hold. I also found this:

#21. Spend a few minutes with Auntie Annie

When I read it, I smiled. I remembered writing it and was glad that I had the forethought to do so, as I'd obviously forgotten about it, already. My Auntie Annie is actually my cousin, second or third, I believe. She's also my Godmother. And I last saw her 23 years ago today.

I visited her in the hospital after a doctor's appointment of my own. The next morning, the phone rang and the news was delivered that she had passed away, having been fighting cancer for years.

Every year, I make it a point to give up a little of my time on October 14th for her. Every year, I do the same for the day after.

Just to catch you up

There is much I could write about, giving all the details, but it's late and many of the details will interest only myself. Instead, here's list (I love lists! They really are the funnest things to write.).

1. Heather is now a cyborg. I tried to tell her that her two little tubes made her bionic. I was corrected.

2. We've discussed it and I am trying to convince the aforementioned Heather to write a diet book. As she said, "Millions of women are looking for the cure, and I found a cure for fatness."

3. I finally met Shevaun, offspring of the ever gallant Shane. She's beautiful and I plan to make a pest of myself so that I can not only have more Shane/Lana time (whom I really do enjoy), but so that I may also get some cuddle time in with the wee bairn.

4. My cat is gross. Not only does it smell like pure evil (Satan, if you will) lives in her butt, but she decided to take it up a notch and do something unspeakable to the carpet. I still love her, but Ick! Enough said.

5. I was thrown a surprise birthday party last week. It was truly amazing! I didn't expect it (I realize that is the point of the "surprise" part of the party) and it made me feel, well, loved.

6. I found out I was no longer going to Vancouver. All I have to say to that is, woohoo!

7. I wrote a great little Millie tidbit to entertain my own Gladys. It makes me happy to read it. I am thinking of starting a blog for Millie.

8. I found out at the surprise party that two of my friends have known each other for 15 years! I also just found out tonight, that one of those same friends is the brother of a friend from highschool! Now that I think of it, I may remember mocking that kid brother's name. My world, it seems, is shrinking. Pretty cool.

9. It was my cousin's birthday today. I really do have to get better at remembering these things so that I won't get the call, "It's my birthday, want to hang out?" call. I should be calling him, not the other way around.

10. Shannon, in Japan, is doing well. Which warms my heart. Even though we haven't seen each other in nearly a year, I am happy to tell you that receiving an "epiphany" email still holds the same thrill it did when we started nearly three years ago. By the way, Bun-San, yeah, the person having the epiphany is usually the last to know it.

11. Today was coloured with friendship (both old and new) and drop-ins and small memories that still mean so much. There were hugs and laughter and plans for Karaoke.

I am sure there is more, but for now, I must bid you goodnight. I will leave you with this: I am grateful to all those I call friend. I know I am a person who is constantly searching for balance in her life and because of that, I tend to overcorrect and wind up throwing myself off kilter once more. And it is through all of you (blood related and otherwise) that I once again find my footing. I love you guys.

My manual

I spoke to Shannon tonight, via MSN, tonight. She forwarded me a copy of a manual she wrote out for her friend, Megan's, boyfriend. It was operating procedures and a help guide to any problems encountered with the Megan unit. It was highly witty and made me laugh... and yes, I got right back on MSN and demanded she write one for me, and possibly format it in a scrapbook, so that I may see, as well as read, how I am properly dealt with. Since she then demanded to know where the manual I was supposed to write for her was, I quickly sidestepped the whole situation by mentioning copyright laws and other lame excuses. However, this deflection still leaves me without a manual! I think of how helpful it would be to have, at hand, a few helpful tips for those that either are being exposed to me for the first time, or for those of my friends that really don't have a clue on how to handle the wonder that is me. I need this manual.

It will include such basics as:

1. The Bobbie unit requires regular refuelling or will be subject to bouts of moodiness, bordering on bitchiness. Shortbread is a good thing to have on hand as it will also serve to turn her "smile" switch to the on position.

2. Take care to provide excercise and fresh air. This unit tends to get stuck in a work loop and has a hard time overcoming this without help.

3. Be aware that the Bobbie unit can crash, without much warning. This can be caused by stress, or happiness. It is not uncommon for her to have outbursts, both publicly and privately. She has been known to cry, laugh, babble or simply shut down. Each situation is different, so be aware that what worked last time, may not work the next time. She will usually tell you what she needs to get back on track, but if she is being a brat and either not articulating, or doens't know what is the best course of action is, a good solution would be cuddling and a nap. Also refer to #1.


The manual will also include trouble shooting for other, more rare, situations:

4. When asked for chocolate, Bobbie may yell at you and run off to hide in her bedroom. This will be caused by temporary malfunction in her logic processor. It is usually best to let it run it's course, as it is a short lived problem. At that time, when things seem to be operating normally again, you may want to making the same request. This may or may not be successful.


So that is just a glimpse into what it would be like. An asset to all who know me.

Free Day

Yesterday was free day in Edmonton. This means some local attractions had free admission. So myself and a couple of friends took advantage. After a delightful feast at Dim Sum (I not only missed a turn while picking up my friend Carol, but got lost on the way to the restaurant), we headed off to Fort Edmonton Park.

Jillian, being born outside of Alberta, had never been so we escorted her into our city's past. Unlike when I was younger, they now have people that are in period dress that engage you in conversation about the house/tent/area they are in. It was pretty rad.


Here are my friends Des and Mikey. They are crouched by the railway tracks as I had instructed. I had just finished making a very bad joke about how their forefathers helped build the railway (Yes, I said it was a bad joke... but they laughed AND posed, and I didn't really mean it anyways, so no being offended!). Once inside one of the buildings, the pretend telephone operator rang the phone in the booth for us and Des answered. They had a short conversation about long distance calls in the year 1905 and Des let the operator know that he and a friend had just finished building the railroad, outside. I cracked up and wound up curled up and laughing on a bench.


Here are all of us sans Jillian, outside the fort part. We had been waiting for Jillian to take the picture and we had all been standing awkwardly beside each other, like a bunch of strangers at a family reunion. I had just made a face to crack Jillian up and everyone wound up seeing it, which made us all laugh. The properly posed pic, taken after this one, isn't nearly as good. As a side note, Carol has described herself as, "kinda simple, actually. Like this is the kind of picture where you'd have to talk slow to me." She describes me as doing the "Bobbie gives up laugh", which makes me smile to hear. I like that I have a pose for when laughter overcomes me, and that it happens so often, that pose has a title.



Jillian and I found an outhouse... it was roped off, otherwise we would be squatting inside, instead of on the perimeter.

So that was Free Day... it was also my first day off in months. I really cannot think of a better way to spend the free time I was granted. I was in the company of people I thoroughly enjoy, that I've missed lately, as I've been busy with work and the clutter of my brain.

To Heather

To Heather:

You may never read this, for I may never let you know it's been written. It will be enough that my thoughts will be out there, in the universe at large. Here I will get to say that I am sorry, and that the universe is wrong and unfair, and that I hate it for what is happening to you, for what is happeing to your body. I will get to say that you are seventeen! And that you should only be concerned with social studies homework, meeting me for soup, dumb boys and which of those dumb boy will be lucky enough to escort you to grad. I will use this medium to say that my heart broke when I heard you cry on the phone, because I knew why you were calling; that when you sobbed that you were a fighter, my heart, two pieces that used to be whole, shattered altogehter, so that it would never be the same again. I will allow myself to say that I wanted to cry, but wouldn't allow it, for even before you told me about your aversion to the head-tilt/shoulder-rub combo, I knew that I could only look upon you with the same smile on my face and joy in my heart, that I've always had for you.

You will not have to worry about one more person crying for you, over you or because of you. I will not be one more, in an unending line, of consoling pharses and apologies. You will not hear me whisper to others about you and your health, two ideas seemingly intertwined into one entity forever more. You will not see a fake smile plastered upon my face, or me veil my eyes when you are around.

I will be here for you always. I will make stupid jokes, I will tell rambling stories, I will entice you with soup and salty plum soda. I will answer my phone at all hours, to listen, to talk, to be silent... just to be. You will make stupid jokes, tell rambling stories, entice me with pie and tea. You will call at all hours, to talk, to listen, to be silent... just to be. Or you will not.

You will beat this and be healthy. Or you will not.

And I will love you, never will I not.