In my great big office building there are lots of workers. And some of these workers are young and fun and like to take long breaks outside throwing a football around.
We’ve only been playing catch a few days now, but I really like it. I’m getting better at throwing and catching, I’m more awake at work in the afternoons and I’m definitely enjoying the company.
I like the sun, I like being barefoot on the grass, I like playing football and I really like having boys to play catch with in the park.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The case of the disappearing finances
I almost cried when trying to check my bank balance today. About a month ago I signed up for a new high-interest savings account with a bank that only communicates online and over the phone.
I put almost all of my money into the account on the advice of a financial advisor, but today when I went to log into my account for the first time, the computer said, “Welcome Michael.” (My name isn’t Michael).
In a panic I called the customer service centre and the worker who was helping me kept saying he didn’t know what was going on and that he couldn’t find me in the system. He put me on hold to try and figure out what had happened and while I was waiting I realized I was on the .com version of the bank’s site, not the .ca Canadian version.
Back on the Canada site I was able to log in and see that all my money is accounted for. (Phew). The stress I just went through cost me more than the interest I’ll collect this year.
I put almost all of my money into the account on the advice of a financial advisor, but today when I went to log into my account for the first time, the computer said, “Welcome Michael.” (My name isn’t Michael).
In a panic I called the customer service centre and the worker who was helping me kept saying he didn’t know what was going on and that he couldn’t find me in the system. He put me on hold to try and figure out what had happened and while I was waiting I realized I was on the .com version of the bank’s site, not the .ca Canadian version.
Back on the Canada site I was able to log in and see that all my money is accounted for. (Phew). The stress I just went through cost me more than the interest I’ll collect this year.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
You know you are just a kid disguised as a business professional when:
1) You sneak chocolate pudding cups into the office in your purse and you eat them with your finger at your desk.
2) You can’t stop spinning back and forth in your office chair.
3) You are late for work so often that the security guards know your name and give you parental looks of disapproval when you race to the elevator.
4) You feel like you’re still taking part in an elementary-school experiment where your teacher gave you fake money and fake work so you could practice being an adult.
5) You don’t care that your skirt will show off the bruises that you always have on your legs.
2) You can’t stop spinning back and forth in your office chair.
3) You are late for work so often that the security guards know your name and give you parental looks of disapproval when you race to the elevator.
4) You feel like you’re still taking part in an elementary-school experiment where your teacher gave you fake money and fake work so you could practice being an adult.
5) You don’t care that your skirt will show off the bruises that you always have on your legs.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Random plops
Today I am a girl; my legs are smooth, I’m wearing a skirt (with ribbons on it, no less) and I’m teetering around in fabulous heels. The weather is supposed to be really nice today and I can’t wait to get outside.
You know what I love? The sound of pointy heals clicking on marble flooring. (Actually any tiled surface would do, but marble is more fun). It’s even better when the floor is so clean it shines and the shoe reflects on the surface. That’s how things were in Ottawa. Here at work we mostly have click-suppressing carpet.
Last night I called the Snowplower to tell him that I’m upset with him and that his last chance is over. I got his voicemail, which is what I expected since he’s not so good at picking up when I call, but just leaving the message felt cathartic. I’m going to try to be home as little as possible the rest of the week, because he seems to like it when I’m mad at him. (Did I mention that he and I were dysfunctional together from the time we first met?)
I’ve been conditioning myself to like dark chocolate and thought I was ready to take the plunge from 86 % cocoa to 99 %. The wrapper on the 99 % bar came with a tasting warning that strongly advised not eating the chocolate until being fully adjusted to less intense varieties. I tried it anyways and while it was okay, I was less satisfied than I wanted to be. I have two huge 99 % chocolate bars, so by the time they’re gone maybe my tastes will have acclimatized.
On my way to yoga yesterday, I walked past a crazy or very stoned guy on the street. He was talking to himself but when I went by he said, “I really like your pants. You’re beautiful.” And despite the fact that I was wearing beat up and dirty yoga pants, I’m keeping the compliment.
You know what I love? The sound of pointy heals clicking on marble flooring. (Actually any tiled surface would do, but marble is more fun). It’s even better when the floor is so clean it shines and the shoe reflects on the surface. That’s how things were in Ottawa. Here at work we mostly have click-suppressing carpet.
Last night I called the Snowplower to tell him that I’m upset with him and that his last chance is over. I got his voicemail, which is what I expected since he’s not so good at picking up when I call, but just leaving the message felt cathartic. I’m going to try to be home as little as possible the rest of the week, because he seems to like it when I’m mad at him. (Did I mention that he and I were dysfunctional together from the time we first met?)
I’ve been conditioning myself to like dark chocolate and thought I was ready to take the plunge from 86 % cocoa to 99 %. The wrapper on the 99 % bar came with a tasting warning that strongly advised not eating the chocolate until being fully adjusted to less intense varieties. I tried it anyways and while it was okay, I was less satisfied than I wanted to be. I have two huge 99 % chocolate bars, so by the time they’re gone maybe my tastes will have acclimatized.
On my way to yoga yesterday, I walked past a crazy or very stoned guy on the street. He was talking to himself but when I went by he said, “I really like your pants. You’re beautiful.” And despite the fact that I was wearing beat up and dirty yoga pants, I’m keeping the compliment.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
My semi-colon
I'm well aware what you will think when I tell you this. You will think I should be over it by now, I shouldn't have expected things to change, that I should have left a long time ago and that it's ridiculous that I let things get to the point they're at.
The Snowplower and I are over. Again. And this time is worse than any of the other times because I wanted to believe him so badly. He said he wanted to be a part of my life, to play football in the park with me, to make me dinner, to have me take care of him when he wasn't feeling well and to have us be a real, official couple.
Actually what he meant was: Start liking me again so I can be the one who rejects you.
It's been this weird little game between us of who is going to do the rejecting. He'll do something lame -- like not call for two or three weeks -- to reject me. Then he'll call and apologize and I'll tell him he's too late. Then I'll feel bad when he sounds sad and I'll forgive him and he'll say a bunch of sweet things and I'll agree to see him again. And as soon as we're done hanging out I know it's going to be another long time until he calls again and starts the whole angry unhealthy loop over again.
And despite the constant leaving, when he comes back over and over again, it feels almost like he's being patient with me, like he wants to make things work and like he really cares. Which is pretty much the opposite of what's actually happening, but it's a less depressing -- and therefore much easier -- way to look at the situation.
We had fun a week and three days ago. Or at least I did. And now he's not calling again and I'm worried that when he does call (if he does) I won't be able to convince him that I don't want to keep seeing him.
Does all of this sound pathetic? I know. I just can't seem to fix it.
The other day I had a debate with this cool, fun (and unfortunately engaged) guy about semi-colons. We were arguing about proper use of this esteemed form of punctuation.
I love semi-colons and other forms of punctuation, in case you hadn't gathered that by now. And anyway, when a semi-colon is used in what I consider its best form it's used to balance out two equal sentences, adding more meaning and more connectedness to both. All I want is to discover my other sentence.
The Snowplower and I are over. Again. And this time is worse than any of the other times because I wanted to believe him so badly. He said he wanted to be a part of my life, to play football in the park with me, to make me dinner, to have me take care of him when he wasn't feeling well and to have us be a real, official couple.
Actually what he meant was: Start liking me again so I can be the one who rejects you.
It's been this weird little game between us of who is going to do the rejecting. He'll do something lame -- like not call for two or three weeks -- to reject me. Then he'll call and apologize and I'll tell him he's too late. Then I'll feel bad when he sounds sad and I'll forgive him and he'll say a bunch of sweet things and I'll agree to see him again. And as soon as we're done hanging out I know it's going to be another long time until he calls again and starts the whole angry unhealthy loop over again.
And despite the constant leaving, when he comes back over and over again, it feels almost like he's being patient with me, like he wants to make things work and like he really cares. Which is pretty much the opposite of what's actually happening, but it's a less depressing -- and therefore much easier -- way to look at the situation.
We had fun a week and three days ago. Or at least I did. And now he's not calling again and I'm worried that when he does call (if he does) I won't be able to convince him that I don't want to keep seeing him.
Does all of this sound pathetic? I know. I just can't seem to fix it.
The other day I had a debate with this cool, fun (and unfortunately engaged) guy about semi-colons. We were arguing about proper use of this esteemed form of punctuation.
I love semi-colons and other forms of punctuation, in case you hadn't gathered that by now. And anyway, when a semi-colon is used in what I consider its best form it's used to balance out two equal sentences, adding more meaning and more connectedness to both. All I want is to discover my other sentence.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Here's the deal...
I'm going to be pruning my blog over the next little while, making it more appropriate for people who know me to read. Then I'll link to it through Facebook, thus uniting my two loves so I won't have to choose between them.
Once I get that under control, I'm sure there will be many more posts here about such exciting things as how I sometimes take my shoes off under my desk or how I stepped in (squishy, warm) poop the other morning or how delighted I am to have a free emergency car kit and no car. After all, who needs a car when you can have flares, candles, jumper cables and a rain poncho all in one cute tote?
Once I get that under control, I'm sure there will be many more posts here about such exciting things as how I sometimes take my shoes off under my desk or how I stepped in (squishy, warm) poop the other morning or how delighted I am to have a free emergency car kit and no car. After all, who needs a car when you can have flares, candles, jumper cables and a rain poncho all in one cute tote?
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Getting reaquainted
Of course I couldn't stay away. How could I pass up the opportunity to write out obsessively-detailed accounts of my adventures?
Now that I'm back, it's time to share some secrets.
1) A fool proof way to get me to develop a rather serious crush on you (provided that you are: male, within my age range, relatively attractive) is to have a homeless guy we pass on the street mention the time you took him out for beer and conversation. Priceless.
2) I can't share this particular secret, other than to say that it was monumental and about time.
3) I have a birth mark on my upper thigh that I've used pretty much my whole life as a guide for how short my shorts can be. I just bought a pair of shorts that are significantly shorter than they should be. They're scandelously cute.
4) I added someone who used to stalk me as a friend on Facebook.
5) I don't know if I'll ever get used to the idea that my younger sister (the Photographer) is married. (I can't wait for you to come home, Sunshine).
6) I really wanted laser eye surgery so that if I went off in the jungle I wouldn't have to worry about my glasses breaking or getting lost. Now that I can't have the surgery (my corneas are too skinny) my less than realistic daydreams are even further away.
Your turn.
Now that I'm back, it's time to share some secrets.
1) A fool proof way to get me to develop a rather serious crush on you (provided that you are: male, within my age range, relatively attractive) is to have a homeless guy we pass on the street mention the time you took him out for beer and conversation. Priceless.
2) I can't share this particular secret, other than to say that it was monumental and about time.
3) I have a birth mark on my upper thigh that I've used pretty much my whole life as a guide for how short my shorts can be. I just bought a pair of shorts that are significantly shorter than they should be. They're scandelously cute.
4) I added someone who used to stalk me as a friend on Facebook.
5) I don't know if I'll ever get used to the idea that my younger sister (the Photographer) is married. (I can't wait for you to come home, Sunshine).
6) I really wanted laser eye surgery so that if I went off in the jungle I wouldn't have to worry about my glasses breaking or getting lost. Now that I can't have the surgery (my corneas are too skinny) my less than realistic daydreams are even further away.
Your turn.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Dear Blog,
You were right; I did miss you.
It's just so hard to get in touch with you since I can't really talk to you while I'm at work, since I don't have any way of getting in touch with you when I'm at my place and since I've been ... ahem ... cheating on you with facebook. It's terrible, I know.
It's also confusing that you are 50% anonymous and 50% in touch with me. It's hard to know what's safe to say to you. If you were a complete stranger I could tell you all my scandals and not worry about what you would think.
And if you were a friend, you would know my name and I could show you my pictures and I could tell you weird things like how I felt I could walk right into the paintings by Renoir that I saw at the gallery in Ottawa and know that you understood.
Even so, I like you. Everytime something funny or strange or neat happens to me, I want to let you know.
If I make some changes to our relationship -- like making you more or less anonymous -- perhaps things will work out.
- g
p.s. Ottawa was amazing. I'll try to post some pictures later this week.
p.p.s. I have an appointment tomorrow with a surgeon about lazer eye surgery. If all goes well, I'll be in the operating room on Wednesday.
p.p.s.s. There's a store in Ottawa called Sugar Mountain. My poor teeth will never be the same.
You were right; I did miss you.
It's just so hard to get in touch with you since I can't really talk to you while I'm at work, since I don't have any way of getting in touch with you when I'm at my place and since I've been ... ahem ... cheating on you with facebook. It's terrible, I know.
It's also confusing that you are 50% anonymous and 50% in touch with me. It's hard to know what's safe to say to you. If you were a complete stranger I could tell you all my scandals and not worry about what you would think.
And if you were a friend, you would know my name and I could show you my pictures and I could tell you weird things like how I felt I could walk right into the paintings by Renoir that I saw at the gallery in Ottawa and know that you understood.
Even so, I like you. Everytime something funny or strange or neat happens to me, I want to let you know.
If I make some changes to our relationship -- like making you more or less anonymous -- perhaps things will work out.
- g
p.s. Ottawa was amazing. I'll try to post some pictures later this week.
p.p.s. I have an appointment tomorrow with a surgeon about lazer eye surgery. If all goes well, I'll be in the operating room on Wednesday.
p.p.s.s. There's a store in Ottawa called Sugar Mountain. My poor teeth will never be the same.
Friday, June 01, 2007
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