insight into me

2 for the price of 1

2008-03-30T19:33:00.002-03:00

I am not used to having Saturdays off. And this weekend, I found myself with no place to be until 6 pm on Saturday evening.

The conversation with the manfriend on Friday night, led me to understand that he was doing housework all day. Painting, hanging, installing and repairing. No, he did not want my help. He was busy. I got the hint. I'd just have to entertain myself all day.

I decided to call on Saturday and see if I could convince him to change his mind. No luck. I really would have to find something to do.

So I called, the alternative, the filler-inner. The friend I call when the manfriend is too busy to entertain me. There was no plan. I thought we'd kill time at Chapters. But first we had brunch, then ended up going shopping at Dartmouth Crossing. An afternoon well spent and well enjoyed.

At one point, I turned to GK and said, "It's a good thing you're around. You're kind of like a pseudo-boyfriend. A backup. Just in case."

And even though the pseudo-boyfriend doesn't get nearly the priveleges the manfriend gets, it's nice to have someone to hang around with on a Saturday afternoon. And thankfully, he was happy to oblige.

If you knew what I know

2008-03-09T19:13:00.003-03:00

Sometimes, I think my head is smarter than the rest of me.

It knows things. Things I don't even remember knowing, or can't even figure out why I'd know it. And my head just seems to know. Usually, it's a good thing. It feels kind of like Spidey senses. I just know, I have a feeling. And all I can use to explain it is, "because" or "I'm not sure, I just think that".

Of course, for every bit of knowledge, you seem to pay a price. People always seem to want to know how I know things. Or if I can help explain it to them. Nope, sorry, I can't. I just know. Sometimes there are facts, figures and supporting quotes in my head, but I have trouble articulating them when I'm put on the spot. Don't question what I know! Know that I just know things!

Knowing is half the battle. And the other half, I'm pretty sure my intuition is making a damn good stab at it for me. Woman's intuition. That's how I know.

venting

2008-03-08T05:39:00.002-04:00

I am at work. In about 1 hour and 20 minutes, I will be home in my bed. That's when things will be better. It will be quiet there. I miss the stillness that usually comes with night shift and early mornings.

It is quiet enough here. There is only one patient, in the waiting room. But there are people talking. And I've been timing, said person has been talking constantly for about 3.5 hours. And I'm about to lose my mind. If it was professional , I'd wear earplugs. But instead, I'm hiding in my hood. But nothing is working. Chat. Chat. Chat. What makes me mad... said person has asked me to 'be quiet' on several occasions. Can't do the same though. Heaven forbid. So instead I will sit here, and wait till it's time to go home.

Do you see what I see?

2008-03-04T20:44:00.002-04:00

I love my new glasses. They're funky and fun.

They were a big decision. I've been wearing contacts for the past year or so. I've always felt a little out of place in my previous glasses. I've never liked wearing glasses until now. Now I love them.

The other day, I did need my contacts for an outing. And went I went to find them, something terrible happened. They're gone, just like that. No longer where I left them. They were on the dresser the day before. Now they're not on the dresser, or under the dresser. Or next to it. Or anywhere.

I can't help but wonder if they disappeared out of protest, mixed with a side of jealousy (of course).

After these messages

2008-03-02T23:35:00.002-04:00

Hi Folks

Yes, I'm aware that the writer's strike is finally over. No, I technically haven't been on strike.
Sadly, my computer has, then my internet was. Then it was the computer again. Then the internet again, and again, and again.

The good news is this: I think this time we've finally got it working. I've got a new router. And in two weeks, I"ll have a new Internet Provider. Yep, this one sucks so bad that we're switching companies.

So I promise, as long as the internet co-operates, that I will be back. If nothing else, wait two weeks till 'the other guys' come and install our internet.

And then I'll tell you all the things I know. Or at least a good chunk of them.

Resolved

2008-01-02T23:19:00.000-04:00

Welcome to 2008!

In 2007 I only made one New Year resolution. I wasn't sure what to resolve last year. But after a bit of thinking, I decided that my resolution would be to stop dating unsuitable men.

In February, I ended up dating someone new. I wondered about it, is this a suitable match for me? or an unsuitable one. I soon forgot about it.

Well, now it's 2008, and I'm still daying the man that I started dating in Feb of 2007, so if he's lasted this long, he must be somewhat suitable ;)

Which means, for the first time in my life, I think I actually kept a New Years resolution.

This year, I'm not jinxing it. I'm not resolving any aspect of my life.

I-move

2007-12-27T22:57:00.000-04:00

Today, I thought I would spice up my usual cardio routine at the gym. I spotted a skipping rope.
I used to love skipping as a kid, so I thought I'd give it a try.

I've recently become one of those people who tucks their ipod into the waist of their jogging pants if they need both their hands... like I did in order to securely hold on to the skipping rope.

It took me a few tries to get going, but before I knew it, I was on a role. Skip, skip, skip. Until, I felt my knee kind of clicking. The movement felt awkward. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, so I stopped. And when I went to put my hand on my knee, i noticed it was unusually square and shaped precariously like an Ipod. So i very carefully, and subtlety reached into my pants, removed my ipod from them, and decided that maybe the stairclimber was a better bet. At least there is a spot to rest my ipod there.

Resurrection

2007-12-13T20:00:00.000-04:00

It's time. Time to put fear and loathing aside. It's time to resurrect my blog.

I know, I may not have any readers left. It's a problem I've created unto my own. But nonetheless, I will try. You see, I'm making changes. Big changes. And in order to make changes, one must take action. How can I be the great and infamous Tracy Lowe if I don't even try. So alas, I'm resurrecting my blog.

It all started after I finished a writing course this term. I loved it. I love writing. I'd like to be able to do it as a freelancer. So it's high time I started up again. And maybe, just maybe, one day, I'll figure out how to make it work.

Hold on to you seats, folks. We're all in for a bumpy ride.

Secret

2007-06-06T00:09:00.000-03:00

They look at me as if they know my secrets. Some more than others, but definitely more some than other. And we all know, secrets spread like wild fire.

She greets me with a slightly different tone. There is a hint of what sounds like condescension, but I know it's just shame. My secret shames her. I can tell because her cheeks turn pink and she looks at me with a sideways glance.

Another someone looks at me as if they were trying not to giggle. But as soon as she greets me, an incredible smile spreads across her face.

I'm not sure how to react. Do I bring it up, laugh it off and try to defend myself. Or do I plead ignorant and pretend I don't have secrets - especially not this one.

She wasn't going to tell me she told my secret. But I'm glad she told me. At least now I know why they look at me differently, why they turn red and try not to laugh in my presence. Why they ask certain questions and steer clear of others.

I can hear them in my head when I'm not around. "Tracy? Our Tracy? No! I can't believe it."
It's met with both skepticism and disappointment.

I can hear her voice telling the story. She tackles the skeptic comments with such gusto and flair that I can hear them laughing along with her. Her stories are always so out there that everyone listens eagerly. The damage is done.

And I wonder, why me? Why did she have to tell my story. If nothing else, could she not have replaced me with another one of her friends, or told the story as the friend of a friend? It's too late now. It's told. My secret is out there.

So for now, I think I'm just going to smile pretty -- and watch my back.

In someone elses words

2007-05-28T22:19:00.000-03:00

I used to hate being called cute. Little kids and animals are cute. I wanted to be stunning. For years, and years, I've tried to fight it. Now of course, I"m a little more accepting. Nonetheless, I laughed out loud when I read this.

"He told me I was cute in the moonlight. I wished he'd said beautiful. Cute made me feel like a garden gnome."

~From Miriam Toews, A complicated kindness

Reform

2007-05-23T21:18:00.000-03:00

Out of sheer boredom and insatiable restlessness, I decided to go shopping. Yesterday's yoga class left me with a hankering for a Yoga mat of my own and some new pants.

I went to Winners. The last time I was there they featured a veritable plethora of yoga mats. Different sizes, colours, and most importantly thickness levels. Today, they had 3. None of which were too my liking.

I looked for some pants, but having a very particular design in mind, I again, found nothing.

So I wandered the store. Purses, shoes, jewelry, tops, skirts and kitchen stuff. I found some stuff that I would like to own. So I carried it around with me. Then all of a sudden, the nagging little voice came into my head and reminded me that although the items I picked out were quite lovely and reasonably priced, I didn't need them. Sure, I could create a need for them. But really, it was just more stuff to take up more space and waste more money.

After I left Winners, I stopped at Shoppers Drug Mart for a minute. I got sucked into the makeup section. And the same thing happened. I looked at lovely new eyeshadows that I wanted to own. And lovely new blush. Then I remembered, I have a ton of makeup already. So I got what I went in for and left.

You should be proud of me. And if nothing else, my Visa balance thanks me. Besides, I'm busy scheming a vacation to Scotland at the moment. More to come on that later.

Insecurity

2007-05-22T22:39:00.000-03:00

Do you remember the opening scene of Beauty and the Beast? Either the stage musical or the movie will do. Belle walks through the town. Everyone knows everyone, they smile, say hello and offer the same things every day. It's a habit, it's a pattern.

My morning usually goes like that. Every morning when I walk through the door of the buliding, I smile, wave and/or nod at the security staff on my way by. They always wave back. I then pick up the mail from the main floor mail slot. I take the elevator (closest to security) to the 5th floor. I drop my stuff in the office, check my email, then my voicemail. Then, I go get coffee.

As I waited by the the elevator this morning, with 2 coffees and one bottle of Orange Juice, one of the security guards called out to get my attention. I couldn't tell if he called me by name or by just saying 'excuse me". He walked hastily towards me. Stood a little too close for my liking (only about 2.5 feet between us, I like 3-4) and then said: "What is your job title?"
"My job title?"
" Yes. your job title"
So I told him. No abbreviations. No BS-ing. I gave him my very official job title. I even included the name of the organization I work for since it is a part of my job title. I gave him the two job titles I hold in the organization.
He thanked me, muttered something about being curious and walked away.

The man who was also waiting for the elevator looked at me with a look that bordered on puzzled and commiserating. He was just as confused as I was.

Strange. Very strange. and now, I can't help but feeling a little insecure around security.

Defeat

2007-05-16T23:13:00.000-03:00

I don't know what else to do. I don't know where else to look. On April 21, I had 3 tickets to Cirque du Soleil. Now I have none. Not one. No tickets, anywhere to be found.

My room is the cleanest it's ever been. Ever. I was sure they would turn up when I did the top to bottom clean of my room. They didn't.

I was doing an awful lot of crafting around the time of purchase. So tonight, I reorganized all the craft stuff. It's the cleanest it's ever been, and I still have no tickets.

I looked in all the coat pockets. I even looked in all the shoe drawers, the bathroom cupboard, the kitchen bookshelf. I've looked under everything in the house. Still nothing.

I went to the box office today, but they don't replace lost tickets. Which I guess means I'm SOL.
I'll need to replace at least two of the tickets because they were for 2 someone elses. If any one knows of anyone with tickets to sell, I'll pay whatever it is they're asking.

I've admitted defeat. I don't think there is anywhere else to look. At this point I'm thinking they might have accidentally gotten thrown out. And it sucks big time. Because all I've wanted for many many years is to get to a Cirque du Soleil show. It was so close, so within reach. And for some stupid reason, I just let go.

Letters to myself

2007-04-26T00:15:00.000-03:00

Dear outside world,

I've been so self absorbed and busy, that I've neglected you. I'm sorry. Please don't take it personally.

Since we last spoke, I celebrated a birthday.... 27!!!! me!!!! I'm excited. Twenty six kicked some serious ass... at 27 I feel like I'm unstoppable. Why yes, the world is my oyster... and I do love pearls!

Today, I infused a tad of 'oh-so-fabulous' to my day.
Try dark roast coffee with a shot of espresso. It's rich, velvety, smooth and DIVINE. Yum yum yum.

I also went to my favourite shoe store. The shoe salesman there said, I haven't seen you in a long time! How have you been? It was just like going home.

I worked. A whole 13 hours. Not so fabulous. So I dressed for success, and in my new favourite shoes, and my new favourite dress, with (you guessed it,) my new favourite belt, I felt fabulous. Stressed, but well dressed.

And finally, last but not least... the jewelry show is fast approaching. Sunday. The big day! If you're free... drop by! Send me an email if you need my address.
See you there

The infamous, and occasionally disapearing, Tracy Lowe

Missing.... in action

2007-04-04T22:07:00.000-03:00

I have been missing. I apologize.

But today, I have found people I have been missing.

I went to a talk this evening. I sat next to my favorite professor. I met and chatted with 2 different people that i hadn't seen in over a year. I got to know them both through various school projects and groups. When I turned around I had a brief chat with someone who works on research grants with my current employer.

As I was leaving, I checked my cell phone. A friend I haven't seen since January had called. I called back and we chatted until I was almost home.

I made a quick detour to McDonalds. And as I nearly approached my house, I ran into the friend of a friend. I haven't seen him since September. We chatted and chatted and chatted.

And as I walked home, I couldn't help but feeling just a little more connected to the people in my neighborhood.

Yoga -- You Go!

2007-03-18T21:35:00.000-03:00

I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to walk up the hill... or rather, attempt to. It glistened with ice from the overnight storm. Everything glistened with ice.

I took two steps and started to slide backwards. I tried lifting my right foot again, but the left one still slipped. I tried lifting the left foot, but the right foot had no traction and it too, started to slip. I had to think on my feet (literally!).

I firmly planted my right foot behind me, my left foot in front of me, and slightly off to the side. I stood tall and balanced the weight between both my feet, allowing my weight to be distributed over the arches of my feet. I felt tall, I felt strong. I stood tall, and I stood strong. And that's when I realized: this was the same pose we did in yoga class the day before. I briefly considered moving deeper into the pose by adding some arm actions.... but then remembered that survival was my goal at the moment.

Who knew that I would be practicing yoga outside at 6:30 on a Saturday morning.

The end of the world as I know it....

2007-03-11T20:19:00.000-03:00

It did not feel fine.
In fact, it felt so scary and so confusing, I had to phone a friend. I had to run through a disaster plan in my head as I tried to make sense of it all.

I woke up in complete darkness.
The house was not empty when I went to take a nap. Now it was deserted. It was dark. I could not find my alarm clock, my lamp would not turn on. There was a powerfailure. I looked out the window and saw nothing but darkness.
I tried to make sense of it. I had gone to bed when it was light out. I had been awake for 32 hours. At 3:00 in the afternoon I was finally ready to go to bed. Now, I had no idea what time it was, if I had missed going to work, and where anyone was. Logically, I concluded that the world had ended. I wandered around the house nervous and afraid. I had no idea what I was going to do.

Finally, after minutes of searching, I found my head lamp and subsequently my cell phone. I didn't know who to call. And as I hit my address book, I went with a close friend who lives nearby.
"Hey Tracy". I breathed a hefty sigh of relief as he answered the phone.
"Hi, it's dark at my house, are my roomies with you? What time is it? What day is it?"
We chatted for a few minutes. I felt better, but still distraught.

With the help of my LED headlamp, I wandered around the house lighting up my path one step at a time. Checking the windows I noticed our street and the street behind us were without power.

So I did what any smart girl would do, I went back to bed. I sat and thought about how I was going to take a shower and get ready for work without power. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably closer to 20 minutes, I heard the gentle whir of electricity. The clock radio flashed 12:00 impatiently. I flipped on my bedroom lamp and got ready for work.
Shortly after that, my roomies returned home. And I was happy to know that the world hadn't ended after all. Finally, I felt fine.

Cooking with Gas

2007-03-11T20:16:00.001-03:00

Saturday morning's jewelry class did not come without it's fair share of challenges. The goal was to finish assembling the 4 links to my bracelet. It was going to be a 5 link bracelet, but last week left me with one casuality. The links have 6 solder joins. Tricky.

I couldn't get my torch to maintain a flame that equal in size and strength. And as my frustration grew with the torch, the more likely I was to ruin my project. I turned it off and on numerous times, opened and closed the main gas valve to ensure that I had turned on the torch properly, but nothing seemed to work.
My bench buddy (Drake - our benches face each other) watched as I furrowed my brow, muttered under my breath and talked sternly to my project, hoping it would do what I needed it to do. He made a couple of suggestions which I tried, but still, no luck.

"I'm not using my torch. Do you want to switch benches?"
"Yes." There was no hesitating before answering that question.
We left our stuff at our respective stations and swapped sides.

The soldering went much better. Three links went without hitch. I was thrilled. Finally -- progress. And that's when it happened. A HUGE explosion. I looked up and saw one large ball of fire emerging from the torch in Drake's hand. I immeadiatly switched mine off. There was nothing to do but wait. He held the torch (or fireball) in one hand and tried to switch off the main gas supply. The main gas supply is never supposed to be turned more than a 1/4 of a turn. It took him 8 full turns to get it turned off. Once the gas was gone, the fire quickly extinguished itself.
Drake was left with a minor burn on his hand.
Black dust kept falling from the sky and lightly coating my workstation. We were all okay. Nothing caught on fire.... which is nothing short of a miracle considering the extra crap on my desk.

When the torch had cooled, the instructor went to examine it to find the fault. The tip wasn't properly attached. Minor error with major complications.

I think I remember him telling me to loosen one part of the torch, which I did. Funny enough, it was there that the seal wasn't tight enough, thus causing a massive explosion in his hands. Ooops. Big oops. Big Big oops. It's a good thing he still has his eyebrows, or I'd feel extra awful.

Like a man....

2007-02-16T21:36:00.000-04:00

Friday night's pubcrawl left me a charming shade of green for Saturday morning's jewelery class. I tried my best to hold it together. Today was the day I was going to set my stone.

I had spent about three weeks making a flat setting for the stone. We started with just a peice of sterling silver. We needed to shape it perfectly and then add four prongs. It involved a lot of small detail work, fine polishing. But at last, i was ready -- all I had to do was pop the stone in, tap the prongs over and I would be done.

In the background, I heard another classmate making a ring. tap. tap. tap. The instructor walked over to her and told her to hammer like a man. She needed more TAP TAP TAP.

I was set up to hammer my prongs. I didn't go quite TAP TAP TAP, but I did go tap, Tap, TAp. The first prong hung to the stone nicely. The second prong fell off. Yep, off. Due to a bad soldering job, and too much TAP. I was left without a prong. And left with one heck of a challenging repair job.

The instructor looked at me, and the look of defeat on my face and said: "You didn't have to hit it that hard. Light touch is better when tapping prongs."
"I know, but you had just told Roxy to hammer like a man, and I guess that kind of stuck in my head. But I get it now, when prongs are involved, you should hammer like a woman."

And as I sulked back to my workbench to repair my broken piece, the entire class burst out laughing.

If these walls could talk

2007-02-04T18:05:00.000-04:00

"Is Justin Timberlake really singing I've got sexy legs?"

"No, ladies. He said ladies."

"Good thing, because he does not have sexy legs."

"I can't think of any man who has sexy legs."

"You don't usually describe men's legs as sexy. Maybe his abs, not his legs".

"Hmm, I like chest and arms. Those are sexy ."

"Ooooh, and his ass. Definitely."

"Face too, he could have a sexy face and especially sexy eyes."

"Good point. So, I geuss men are sexy, except for their legs."

Chivalry

2007-01-09T23:22:00.000-04:00

I took the bag that contained her skates. I draped it over one shoulder and secured my own bag on the other shoulder.

The bus was full, and unfortunately, there were no empty seats to be found. I pointed out a bar that she could hold on to. The overhead bar was much too high for my 8 year old friend. I gave her a quick lesson on how to hold on and brace herself so she would be steady on the bus ride. I offered to stand behind her -- just in case.

She looked at me nervously, as I reassured her that she would be okay.

And then, a young boy, who couldn't have been more than 12 years old stood up from his seat. He looked at her, and said, here, you can sit down. He said he travels the bus often and is perfectly comfortable.

She looked at him shyly. I smiled and thanked him. And then i thought to myself, that has got to be one of the sweetest things I've ever seen.

Inspiration

2007-01-07T02:16:00.000-04:00

In 3 months and 11 days, I will have a birthday. It's a number that bears no real significance. It's not a multiple of 5, which seems to be when people really celebrate. It will the wear the same as any birthday -- an indication of how far I've come. A story with a flexible ending and one heck of a windy and bumpy road. Like every birthday, it will tell the story of the years before it. It will showcase the everyday adventures that have got me to where I am now.

I've already decided what I'm doing in celebration of my birthday. I'm having a celebration.

And all I can tell you is I'm so excited about it. It's going to be big, fabulous, bright and colourful. It will sparkle like crystal earrings. It will be classy like a pearl necklace. It will be delicate like seedbeads. It will be fun and funky.

It's going to be one heck of an extravaganza. Details to come. Everytime I talk about it, I get so excited that I can't even sit still. I'll keep you posted.

~The Queen Bead

Revamp

2007-01-04T21:50:00.000-04:00

Joan treated herself to a pretty new blog. I was jealous, very jealous. I wanted one too.

She pointed me in a direction. Miss Zoot has fabulous and some free blog templates. And she even posts instructions.

But Joan, quite foolishly, said : If there is anything you like, I could set that up for you.

Now, as a generally stubborn and competitive person, I would normally think. Oh, I will do this myself. But Joan, well, she knows I'm capable, and she knows I could do it if I wanted to and therefore she has never been a threat to me. If she had said, you'll never figure this out, I would have had to. Only to prove that I could.

Admittedly, I hmmed and hawed for a split second. It was more of an, are you sure? Rhetorical. Courtesy. Please don't make me do this myself, please don't make me do this myself.

But instead, she told me to suck it up and ask her to do it for me. So with bare minimal arm twisting. I graciously accepted her help. Yes my loyal friends and readers, you have Joan to thank for the installation of the pretty new look.

A round of applause please for fantastic friends and a cheers for the new template.

A year in review

2007-01-03T00:08:00.000-04:00

Well, it's officially the start of the third day of the new year. Yesterday, i was wondering what 2007 has in store for me. And if wondering and wishing for things means they will or will not happen. I was about to wonder how much control I have over the future, but Becky (or my own personal Dr.Phil) told me yesterday that you tell and teach people how to treat you. So if I turn around and apply this wondering about how much control I have, I'm going to have to say that I probably have more control than I'd like to admit sometimes.

So this brings me to stop thinking about 2007, and just go with the flow.
So instead, I did a bit of 2006 year in review. Here is what I came up with:
-I learned to play tennis, curl, decorate cakes, and belly dance.
-I laughed a lot, pulled off my most famous April fool's day joke ever, and spent quality time with friends.
-I tried my hand at being a runner. And with the encouragement of friends, I made it the furthest I've ever made it in a running program, and now, I'm starting to enjoy it. And although I'm still not good at it, I now think that if I keep at it, one day, I will be.
-Some of my blog posts don't make sense to me either.
-I love to shop. (okay, i've always known that)
-I've got great friends and family who love me anyway
-Sometimes, it's okay to play the 'damsel in distress'

And my favourite lesson of all: Life really is only as exciting as you describe it.

Here's to an 'exciting' 2007!

Resolved

2007-01-01T22:25:00.000-04:00

Happy New Year. Happy New You!

This is the time of year when many people resolve to change things... mostly, themselves.

So as someone who doesn't like to make resolutions of great importance, I wish you luck with the New Year. And if a new you is what you're after, good luck with that too.

Stuck

2006-12-28T00:40:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, you feel stuck in a moment. And you can't get out of it.

And sometimes, that's the only way to describe what its like to be home.

Yesterday, I was at a party of friends from highschool. And although things are different, and we've all changed, when we were together, it was like nothing had changed.

Or maybe we just all still fit into the same shoes. I think these shoes are stuck in quicksand.

Home

2006-12-24T21:54:00.000-04:00

Home.

It's a transient term with a permanent effect. It varies, depending on where I am and where I am referring to.

Right now, I am home. It is not my home though. It is the home my parents moved to after I moved to Halifax. But it is where my family is, so it is home.

Home, is in Halifax. It's where I have made my life, my friends. My home (okay, rented home) is there. My Cat is there, my job is there. My stuff is there. It is home because it is where I am usually. It is where I am comfortable and free.

There are other homes that are just like home to me. Friend's homes. Where you find your friends, and their families. Growing up, most of these homes were as comforting and welcome as your own. You helped yourself to what was in the cupboards, you washed your dishes, or at least put them in the dishwasher, and occasionally you even answered their phone. The door was always open and many years later.... still is.

I am home for the holidays. I hope you are too!

Merry Christmas!

Lost

2006-12-03T18:29:00.000-04:00

It's been just over 48 hours, and I still feel lost. I know, I'm going through symptoms of withdrawl. Does this ever get better?

On Friday afternoon, when I turned on my laptop, it was working as fine as it had been for the past month. but then, all of a sudden, I heard something rattle around on the inside. Next, there was a loud sputter and suddenly the silence of a fan no longer whirring. Dust flew out of the vent on the side of my computer. And then a message: There is a problem with the cooling system. Please turn off your computer.

And that was it. The end of my laptop. Well, temporarily. I'm going to have someone open it up and see if the fan still will work.

Until then, it's limited internet access. It means using my roomies computer. I'll be around though, or if not, i'll just be wandering. And lost.

Wakey-wakey

2006-11-29T22:29:00.000-04:00

I was called both “baby” and “honey” before I even got out of bed this morning.  I tried to keep up my end of the conversation, but let’s face it; morning is not my strong suit.  Not without a strong cup of coffee.

I ignored the voice that said, “Sorry baby, did I wake you?”.  And it although it dripped with patronization and ridicule it was also tainted with ever so slight apologetic undertones. I retreated further into the security of my duvet and the cooler side of my pillow relishing the way my bare arms melted into down filled goodness.

I told my favorite white lie of all. “Don’t worry about it; the alarm was going to go off any minute now anyway.  I should be out of bed.”  Lies, lies, lies.  The alarm wasn’t supposed to go off for another hour and 12 minutes.  I wouldn’t get out of bed for at least another hour and a half.  At least.

The voice on the other end of the phone reminded me that he was coming to pick me up at 7:30 am.  I tried to dust a layer of morning fog off of my brain and came up with no good reason why I needed to be out of bed this early on this particular morning.

NSCAD registration, he reminded me.
I reminded him that he was a week early.  Registration didn’t begin until next week.

I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head. “Honey, time to get out of bed”.  I could hear the smirk in his voice mocking me.  And before I knew it, I had half an hour to make myself presentable to the outside world.  Coffee and breakfast awaited me.
By the time I strolled into the office (15 minutes early to boot!), I was awake, energized and ready to tackle the day.  Breakfast and coffee started the day out on a great note.

Besides, I have a lot more respect for someone who is trying to get me out of bed rather than into it.

To Go

2006-11-22T00:12:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I lost my lunch.

After running work related errands downtown, I thought I would treat myself to lunch and enjoy it at my desk once I got back to work. So I stopped at one of my favourite lunch cafés – The Daily Grind. I picked out a Cous-Cous Salad and a Samosa to go. Delicious and healthy. They packaged my lunch, made sure I had all the napkins and cutlery that I needed and sent me on my way. Granted that I was already carrying a rather heavy bag, I stopped at a table to organize everything. Both bags in my left hand, Ipod in my right and I’m ready to go.

As I walked back to work, on a gorgeous afternoon, I couldn’t help but curb the rumbling in my belly by thinking about how great my lunch was going to be once I got back to work. Seven minutes. It’s only a seven minute walk.

On the elevator ride back to my office, I noticed, one bag – comprised of books and puppets in my left hand, Ipod in my right. But wait – where was my lunch? I checked my purse, my bag, nothing. Somewhere between the Café and work, I had lost my lunch.

I called, but the man who answered the phone said no one had left behind a lunch. I was so distraught, and disappointed, not to mention hungry. After I left work, I retraced my steps back to the café…. No lunch on the sidewalk. Really, not that I would eat it if I found it, but rather I just wanted to know that I had dropped it unknowingly. I’m almost glad I didn’t find it, because really, how could I drop it and not realize.

Today, I returned to the scene of the crime. I stopped in to pick up a coffee on my way to work. I had envisioned me walking in, greeted with open arms and offer of a new lunch. They would recognize me, we would laugh, we would eat Cous-Cous Salad together. No such luck. So $2 later, I had a large Vanilla Hazlenut Coffee. And I didn’t dare order lunch to go. Because yesterday’s lunch was long gone.

The Princess and the Plea

2006-11-10T00:12:00.000-04:00

Dear Powers of the Universe that Be:

Why?

That’s all I really want to know.

Why?

Things have been tricky since sometime this week. Tricky in a funny, ‘I’m going to laugh about this’, but come on now. Enough fun with me, cut a girl a little slack.

Is it Karma? What did I do? Last week, a friend of me told me I have great karma. I know what it must be, last week, I was spoiled. The world made sense. I remember thinking last week I couldn’t remember things going wrong. So I guess this makes this a wake-up call?

I know, it could be worse. You’re really just playing tricks on me. Nothing that happened has had great consequence, and for that, I’m truly grateful.

I realize, I’m in no position to bargain, or state demands. Instead, I plead. Can’t I just have one more ‘perfect world’ kind of day? I promise, it’s just so I can remember what it is like. I will take it and spread good in the world.

Thank you for taking the time to consider my request.

Sincerely,

The Infamous Tracy Lowe

The Infamous Tracy Lowe Strikes Again

2006-11-06T22:01:00.000-04:00

On Saturday I dropped by the new bead store around the corner.  A bead store is exciting enough, but they also carry belly dancing costumes – that’s super exciting.  The man who runs the store was telling me about bringing the stuff in from Egypt.  Given my half-Egyptian heritage, my interest in beads and my obsession with belly dancing costumes, we got into quite a lengthy conversation.  His wife arrived at the store and we also spent some time chatting.
Half an hour later I left the store to tackle Saturday morning errands and plans.

Twelve hours later, I went to work.  As soon as I got there, one of the physicians was anxious to tell me about the new store.  Thinking I knew where this is going I promptly replied, “I know! I was in there checking things out already”.

She begged me to let her finish.

She was looking at the costumes and telling them about her co-worker who just bought a costume and was showing it off at work.  She was telling them a bit about me, and they said that they thought they knew me.  The physician, attempting to humor them gave them my name.  They’re response: “Oh, Tracy! We know Tracy quite well.”

The Infamous Tracy Lowe strikes again.

It’s nice to get to know the people in my ‘hood.

Fall Back.... not Spring Forward

2006-10-30T00:17:00.000-04:00

When Becky came home this afternoon, she reminded me that the clocks had gone back an hour. Little did she know, I had already changed the clocks.

I took note of the time and proceeded to get ready for work. The next time I looked at the clock, it told me it was 2:26 pm. I hurried the getting ready process. This is the time I should be leaving for work.

As I scrambled around the house looking for everything I needed for work – lunch, ipod, book. As I’m doing all this, I get something in my eye and my contact starts to burn, so I run into the bathroom and get that straightened out. Time is now 2:31 pm. At this point I know I don’t have enough time to walk to work. Especially not carrying the cake I plan on bringing to work. So I call the bus line to find out when the next bus is.

That’s when I realize – on some clocks it’s 2:31, on others it’s 1:31 and others the time isn’t set because there was a power outage when I woke up this morning.

By this point I’m utterly confused and terribly perplexed. I’m trying to figure out the best way to find out what time it is. So I do what any smart girl would do: I’d like to use a lifeline please. I think I’ll phone a friend.

Sure, they laughed at me. But I found out all of my rushing was in vain. It was only 1:30. I’m just glad I didn’t rush all the way to work. Imagine if I had rushed myself and shown up an hour early! Of course the day shift would have been glad to see me. Maybe next time change.

Spirit

2006-10-26T22:56:00.000-03:00

“It’s not a competition.”

He said that so firmly and with such an air of seriousness that I felt instantly ashamed.
The look on his face mocked me and my spirit of friendly competition.

“It’s not?”  was the best retaliation I could manage.
“But what if I’m not good enough, what if I’m not the best?”

Again, he reminded me it was not a competition.   But I beg to differ.
It’s always a competition in some way shape or form. And really, what’s wrong with a little friendly competition?

Fade to Black

2006-10-22T16:19:00.000-03:00

I was busy writing you a post about what happened to my monitor earlier this week.

In a nutshell: Crack, Flop (monitor slams itself shut), CRACK. I open the monitor, it slams itself shut. You get the idea.
My laptop monitor had lost the ability to support itself, but with a pillow propping up at the back, its still usable. I make a couple of calls about getting it fixed and then decide that it is probably not worth the while. I make a mental note to back up the entire contents of my harddrive before I lose my monitor completely.

This afternoon, I prop my monitor up, turn on my laptop, and wait. I get the usual start up screens, bright and vivid. And then, it slowly fades to black.

Looks like I might be laptop shopping a little sooner than I expected.

RIP my laptop. Rest in Peace.

O! Oh, No!

2006-10-15T10:46:00.000-03:00

The key was sticky. And I could see some crap underneath it. So I tried to fish it out with a Q-Tip. No luck. Clearly, I was going to have to pry the key off. So I did.

I remove the key, and clean out a satisfactory amount of dust, dirt and grime. One problem, the key is now in two pieces and I can't figure out how to put it back on. The I realize, two pieces mean broken and I can't put it back on.

So now, my "O" key is exposed, I push the little white rubber circle, and it still types. It's slow, and has a huge failure rate. It's kind of like a big black hole in my keyboard.

This isn't the first time I've taken off the keys on my laptop. Which means, I should know to be more careful. My up arrow is missing a key cover. My comma is sticky and doesn't always work. And now the letter "O".

For simplicity sake, I might just stop using it. Like in the book Ella Minnow Pea. As letters fell off the village sign, they were forbidden. Well, geuss what folks: as letters and characters stop working on my laptop, they'll be forbidden too.

I'm srry t tell yu but yu heard it here first. And that wasn't s hard t read, was it?

Miss Matched

2006-10-12T22:28:00.000-03:00

I am currently mismatched. Which is strange for me, because normally I would much prefer to be Miss Matched.

The trouble started with the usual planning of an outfit: the agenda of tomorrow.
It's an early start: I have to be at work at 7:00 am. I will work in two different departments and finish working at 2:00 pm. At 3:00 pm, i have plans to meet friends for drinks after work. Drinks are scheduled to turn into dinner. After dinner, at 7:00 pm I have to meet my cake decorating instructor so I can find out what i missed at last weeks class. I need to learn how to make Chrysanthemums out of icing. After my little lesson, I think I'm expected to continue with the festivities of the drink and dinner crew for some dancing. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I will be up for it. Time will tell, and who am I to be unprepared.

When i started writing this post, I was in a cream coloured, boat necked ribbed sweater with 3/4 length sleeves. I was going to wear it with this really funky necklace and a pair of dark jeans. I went through the checklist: work - easy to work in, not too revealing and professional enough looking, drinks - it's a classic look, dinner - white, not so good usually but it's a cleanable fabric, cake deco - no problem , dancing -- too hot, too work, too stuffy.

Next outfit please: black sheer top, too dressy with jeans for work. It's Friday so i'm not wearing a skirt. Black polka dot top -- it's been done. Brown sheer -- wore that last week.

And then, I see it. It's lurking near the back of the closet. An impulse purchase. But it's bright red summons me. It's such a happy shirt. The little polka dots make me smile. With it's cute little drawstring tie at the bottom, and it's great button detail on the poufy sleeve I know I've found my busy Friday the 13th outfit. Paired with my fav jeans I'm good to go.

In fact, I'm so good to go that I'm dissapointed I don't have to be at work for another 7 hours and 53 minutes. I'm ready now. But on second thought, I have a long agenda for tomorrow. Maybe I should start with a solid night's sleep. But really, us fashionistas can never really rest- I'm already planning an outfit for Saturday.

Happily ever after

2006-10-09T18:14:00.000-03:00

I can't believe it. She's married.
No longer is she a "miss". She's now a "Mrs."

The day after the wedding, she plunked herself down on the couch next to me.
"Where's your husband?" I asked. It made me giggle. Husband.

I remember the days of our 10 year old selves giggling about the thought of marriage and the families we were planning on having. I remember our 16 year old selves fretting over boys and planning to 'accidently' bump into us so they would notice us. I remember our 20 something year old selves talking about dating and other relationship issues. Now her 20 something year old self is embarking on a new phase of her life. And I couldn't be happier for her.

Side note:

I was trying to post some pictures... but Blogger won't co-operate. I'll try later.

I heart CB

2006-09-25T01:35:00.000-03:00

Finally. And if I had realized what I was missing, I might not have waited so long.

I have just returned from my very first trip to Cape Breton. And all I can really think to say is 'wow'.

We drove up for a friend's wedding, and took the added opportunity of Sunday to do some driving since Megan and I had never been before.
We drove the Cabot trail and hiked the Skyline Trail at the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. We ooohed and ahhed at mountains, valleys, potential landslides, windy roads, steep hills, all of which collided with spectacular views of the Ocean.
I was about to add an image, but blogger doesn't seem to want to do that this evening.

We hiked. I learnt how to skip rocks. And trust me, by the time I figured it out, I
was overly ecstatic. We ate, we sang, we laughed, and we danced. Not necessarily in that order and certainly not all at the same time!

The only let down of the trip was the fact that we didn't see any moose, or any bears. I'm just glad we didn't encounter any on the hiking trail. It would have been nice to see them off in the distance though.

The drive was quite nice, and I'm gald I got to drive part of it. It's sad that I'm so excited that I got to drive over the Causeway. Almost as exciting as the first time I went over the bridge and got to throw my quarters in. Almost.

Now, in my caffeinated state (driving and coffee just seem to go together), i'm more awake than I'd like to be at this hour of the day. So I'm off to bed (Take two), and I will hopefully be able to post a picture or two tomorrow.

Until then, I'm just glad I got to have another maritime experience. Slowly, ever so slowly, we seem to be washing away the Upper Canadian part of me.

Countdown

2006-09-21T23:47:00.000-03:00

10 – the number of days until I fly back to Ontario
9 – the number of pieces of jewelry I need to make before I go back to Ontario
8 – the number of days ago that I last flew to Ontario
7 – the number of fruit/veggie servings I’ve eaten today
6 – the number of meetings I have scheduled at work for next week
5 – the expected number of minutes of the presentation I will do at work on Friday
4 – the number of members of my family that are in Canada
3 – the number of kids my parents have
2 – the number of appointments I went to after work today
1 – the number of days until my first trip to Cape Breton

Back in Action

2006-09-19T22:43:00.000-03:00

First, let me apologize for my severe lack of blogging.

Yes, I am alive. And yes, I am well. Although, lately, I’ve been saying I’m well-ish. Which of course, if you don’t hear it properly sounds like I’m telling people I’m Welsh. I’m not, for the record. I am a proud Egyptian – Scottish Canadian.

So, that being said, I don’t feel it is appropriate to launch into random stories. I wrote you one about how I ended up stuck in the midst of a male bonding session. For the record, I felt privileged to be a part of it. And it made me chuckle (inside my head). It was all very enjoyable. And no, I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was on a plane and they were in the seats next to me. It was too hard not to hear.

Anyhoo… here is the update about why you haven’t heard from me. I’ll bring you up to speed and then try to stay on top of things.

Weddings:
Congrats Merida and Andrew (August 26,2006)!!!!
My first CB adventure will happen this weekend as I travel to Sandra’s wedding.
And then… the big one… on October 7th, I will stand as the Maid of Honour, as I wish Meghan and John the very best in their marriage and life long adventure together.

Travel:
I was in Ontario this past weekend.
I’m in Cape Breton this coming weekend.
The weekend after that, I’m off to Ontario for two weekends and a veritable plethora of wedding activities.

Jewelry:
Yes folks, I’m jewelling. I’m Jewelling for Andrea and Jared’s wedding (September 30, 2006) and I’m jewelling for Meghan and John’s wedding. Anything else has been given the backburner. I’m also toying with the idea of doing a craft fair this year.

Unpacking:
I got tired. There are still a few boxes and stuffs to go. But for the most part, we’re put away. Of course, stuff still needs to be organized.

Work:
The program I’m working for has been nominated for a crazy huge international award. We’re hosting 2 international judges so we’re busy planning for that.
Tonight we had the volunteer recognition party. Fall volunteers are back in session… WOOOHOOOOO!
I’ve been working extra hours for everything else that is going on in the office as well. Busy, busier, and busiest time of the year.

Other: (yes, I still find time for other):
Belly dancing is back! My running buddy is back from vacation and anxious to start up again. And finally, I now have a bedtime! And it’s working, I’m sleeping through the night and getting up when the alarm clock goes off.

So that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s bedtime. And tomorrow, I promise not to make excuses. I will write you a real post. Until then, bear with me. Thank you, and good night.

Home Sweet Home

2006-09-12T00:20:00.000-03:00

The past few weeks have been chaotic. Between boxes, upon boxes, upon bags of stuff. More stuff than I ever thought we had, and more stuff than I ever think we’ll need. Most of it has found a home.

I am loving my new house, and my new neck of the woods. There is so much space, that sometimes, I forget that I can hang out in the living room, or the dining room, or the kitchen, or maybe my bedroom. Hmm, or how about the office. It’s amazing I don’t get lost in here.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think my laundry just finished. I haven’t done laundry in the comfort of my home in years. I don’t know if that novelty is ever going to wear off.

And if you’re in my neck of the woods, feel free to drop in!

Disconnected

2006-08-29T22:35:00.000-03:00

Dear Outside World,

Oh, How I have missed you!

It's amazing how 24 hours without internet can make a person feel so disconnected from the world.
I"m in my new place. The move went reasonably well, with one minor hiccup which I will tell you about later.
We are currently trying to find our way through boxes upon boxes upon even more boxes of stuff. Oh the joys of moving! Soon, it will be better. I must endure.
I'm sneaking this break in at work since I'm feeling so internet deprived. The Eastlink folk are coming to save us on September First.
Much love until then,

Tracy

Moving Day

2006-08-28T00:13:00.000-03:00

I’m about to turn my computer off.  And when I do, I won’t be turning it back on for at least 5 days.  Well, unless our internet is hooked up sooner.  Tomorrow is the long awaited and anticipated moving day.

Looking around, this is no longer my apartment.  The bookshelf in front of me is bare except for a stack of Magazines to be recycled.  The hot pink curtains that used to hang on the wall are gone and were replaced by nothing.  The walls are bare, the dresser tops are cleared and everything is empty.  Boxes are piled high.

I wonder if we’ve left a mark on the apartment.  Do you really leave a little piece of you wherever you go?  I’ve left holes in the wall – failed attempts at hanging stuff.  I’m hoping the landlord won’t notice them.  Or else I’ll have to fill them.

I would like to leave a vibrant red wall in the kitchen.  But I think the landlord intends for us to paint it back to white before we leave.  It’s too bad, because if you ask me, it really adds to the place.  But tomorrow, it will not be my red wall.  Although, technically, it is my red wall until 1 pm on August 31.

And now, it is bed time.  We’re packed. We’re as clean as we can be until the movers come and take all of our stuff away.  It’s going to be a busy and long day tomorrow.  I’ll be back soon.  I promise.

DNR

2006-08-21T00:18:00.000-03:00

I looked at them one last time.  I sighed a sigh of letting go, turned my head, and dropped them into the garbage bag.

I remember them in their glory. The way my feet felt when I first put them on.  The pink suede was oh-so-pretty and delicate.  The strap criss-crossed over top of the foot and Velcroed neatly on the side.  The shoes looked like little ballerina slippers.

I would love them so much in the months to come.  Hardly a day went by when I wouldn’t wear them.  I would wear them with skirts, pants, capris, or jeans.  I would wear them to walk downtown, to work, to go on adventures or even just around the house.

As I returned them safely to a shoe shelf, I noticed a dark spot on the heel.  I flipped them over, and to my surprise/horror, there was a spot in the sole that had worn out.  Most of the sole was worn thin, but in one spot, it was definitely worn. Pink suede peaked through the beige rubber sole. I put them on the shoe shelf and sighed a sigh of defeat.

The shoes had aged. The suede was no longer smooth. The colour was faded and grayed.  The soles were bare.
I tried to think up any way possible not to have to lay the shoes to rest.

I thought about taking them to shoe repair.  It could be an attempt at resuscitation – they could dye the suede and resole the bottom.   It would give them one last chance to fight.  One more adventure. One more day.

  Could I do it? Could I squeeze one more ounce of life out of them?  If I gave them a second chance, would they have the courage to face another day? Or should I let them die an honorable death?I took one more look at them and realized: These shoes are so done they need a Do Not Resuscitate Order on them.

So I laid them to rest.  I placed them gently in the black garbage bag and set them free.  I remembered the good and the fun times we shared together.  And now they’ve moved on. And of course, all shoes go to heaven.

Hard Days Night

2006-08-13T23:41:00.000-03:00

Fifteen minutes earlier than expected, the first of the day crew arrived. It was 6:45 am, and I couldn't have been happier to see a fresh morning face. It had been a long night at work.

She took one look at me and said "go home". I wasted no time.

The morning sun almost blinded me when i stepped outside. I knew I had left my sunglasses in the car, so I didn't think much of it.

The windows were foggy and wet with morning condensation, so the first thing I did when I got in the car was turn on the wipers and the defrost. I was on my way!

I took off my regular glasses, put them in their case, and put on my sunglasses. As I'm driving down the road, I can't figure out why the windows are still foggy, and why everything is blurry. The sun is still blinding but at least the glare is blocked.

I can see well enough to realize that nothing looks familiar. I've obviously made a wrong turn. I study the street signs and realize that I'm two blocks past where I actually need to be.

At this point, I realize that everything is foggy because I don't have my prescription glasses on anymore. I'm still on the wrong street. I make a couple of turns and finally I'm back on the right track.

Pleasantly surprised at my ability to problem solve, I arrive home. It's amazing how a 5 minute drive can feel like a five hour drive. And bed never felt so good.

TGIF... postponed

2006-08-03T19:30:00.000-03:00

As per usual, I have spent the better part of the week anticipating Friday.  By Tuesday, the work week felt so long that I thought we must be at least on Wednesday.  By Wednesday I figured it had to be Thursday.  It wasn’t.
Today is Thursday.  And today, I freaked out…. It can’t be Friday tomorrow!  I’m not ready for it yet.

Friday is the day at the very end of the work week, where I realize the better part of this week’s to-do list remains grossly untouched.  All that procrastination, over-thinking, draft copies of letters and attempted research projects are still sitting on my desk.  They’ve been started, shuffled, drafted, redrafted and even discussed.  But they’re not done.
Tomorrow is D-Day: Deadline day.  By I’m not done yet.  And for the first time in what feels like forever, I wish Friday was just one more day away.

Sign me up

2006-08-02T23:56:00.000-03:00

The only reason I know it’s not entirely true is because at the end of the day, I can usually recollect the curious mishaps of the day.  Usually. Not always.

A few weeks ago, my water bottle went missing.  It was perplexing because this particular Nalgene bottle never leaves the house.  I carry around the house, but never outside of the house.  I  remembered that earlier in the day I had sliced some lemon, filled it with water and put it in the fridge.  The next time I went to find it, it was gone.  Not where I remembered leaving it.  I searched high and low but to no avail.

Weeks later, or yesterday, Megan told me she found my Nalgene bottle.  It was under the cupboard with the baking supplies.  It was also all gross and mildewy.  Now, I know exactly where it is: the garbage.

These past few weeks have been super helter-skelter, even for me.  My cell phone turned up in the cutlery basket in the sink for the clean dishes.  The only reason I found it there was because the ringer was on and I could phone it.

I misplaced a fruit salad, in a Tupperware in the sink.  That one had me stumped for about a day and a half.  I found it when I went to wash the dishes.

For now, I think that’s it.  Sure, there are more random articles that turn up in odd and unusual places, but this seems to be the bulk of it.

And at the end of the day, all I can think is very early onset of Alzheimer’s.  Perhaps I’ll put myself on the waiting list for some quality nursing homes.

Empty

2006-07-31T21:24:00.000-03:00

I have no bloggable material.  No Joke.

Last week, I was entirely on my best behavior. Well, close enough.

It was a usual week for me: work, tennis, running, guitar, belly dancing, beading and little dragon boat paddling thrown in for good measure.  It’s also summer which means good food, great patios and nice frosty local beer.

There was an impromptu “I’m trying to glamorize my life” shopping adventure.  One funky black skirt, sheer white linen cardigan and a classic black v-neck sweater, I decided to forgo shopping for new shoes.  Yes folks, my glamour has limits.  Well, my Visa has a limit.

So that’s it.  No stories.  I’m sorry.
No insight. Not into me. Not into the real world.  Not into anything.

I’m hoping for a better August.  I’m currently in the process of ridding my life of commitments so I can go back to being free and spontaneous.  I’ll let you know how it goes.  Until then, get out there and cause some trouble! If nothing else, do it for me.

New York , New York

2006-07-25T01:04:00.000-03:00

Somedays, I think I’m living a life that was not intended for me.

I’m content, but sometimes my life seems a little too …. Halifax.  And a little not enough New York City.
I don’t know what it is, but there is a glamour attached to the city.  A glamour that says a girl can go out every night of the week, drink cocktails and eat at fabulous restaurants.  Now, if you’re going to do that, naturally, you need great clothes and kick ass shoes.  Price tag? What price tag?

If I were a real NYC glamour girl, I would have a Visa of infinite limit that would miraculously pay itself.  I would write a newspaper column.  Since that would be my primary source of employment to pay the rent on my fabulous Manhattan apartment I would spend the rest of my days shopping, drinking coffee and planning which fabulous parties to attend.

In a nutshell, I think I was supposed to be Carrie Bradshaw.  I think I just got a little lost along the way.  Just a little.

No Worries

2006-07-19T00:43:00.000-03:00

I know enough to know better.  But that doesn’t mean I can stop thinking just like that.  Knowing is only half the battle.
And I’m not saying it’s my fault.  Like I said, I know better.  But that still isn’t enough to make me stop.  How can you just stop?

A recent suggestion from an article mentioned that it is a good practice to set aside one hour of a day a designated worrying time.  I contemplated the suggestion, but couldn’t decide if contemplation is a form of worry in and of itself.  Then I worried about what if I forgot to worry about something during my designated hour.  Does that mean I would have to postpone it until the next day? Or are exceptions acceptable?

Besides, I don’t like to worry, per se.  I would much rather over-think, deduce, contemplate, dissect, analyze and replay.  Why bother worrying?  I know better than that.

You know what the worst part about this all is?  Now I’m afraid you’ll worry about me worrying too much.  For the record, I’m not really worried about anything – except whether or not I need to set aside a designated worrying time. You know, just in case anything comes up.

Hot to Trot

2006-07-15T23:03:00.000-03:00

At first I was nervous.  I didn’t know what to expect or even what to do. My friends, being experienced horseback riders were confident in their abilities.  Given it was only the second time I’d been on a horse, I was a little nervous.  After a little hmming, and a little hawing, I figured why not, we should go for it.  We were going to Trot the horses.

When they found out that I was a little nervous because I was not an experienced rider, they found me the gentlest horse.  Funny enough, he also happened to be notably bigger than all the other horses.  So much bigger, that they had to offer me a foot stool so I would be able to mount her.  I was told not to worry and that Daisy was one of the best horses they had.

Daisy was great.  She plodded along quite nicely.  When it came time to trot, I was instructed to hold on tight, and kick the horse in the sides to get her going.  With a good kick she got going.  And no less than 10 seconds later, just when I was starting to get the hang of it, she stopped.  I kicked her again.  Nothing.  I kicked her again, still nothing.  I let her walk for a minute, tried again and still nothing.

It was a hot day out there.  About 30 degrees.  All I can guess is that my horse was too hot to trot.

MIA

2006-07-12T00:16:00.000-03:00

** Warning: The following may resemble a rant.  Which is exactly what it is.**

On Friday, I arrived home 15 minutes after a courier attempted to deliver my Ipod.  That was just bad luck, I would have to wait until Monday.  The notice on my door said they would redeliver on Monday.

On Monday, I waited patiently and anxiously all day long. I did not leave my house, because I wanted to make sure I was there to receive my Ipod.

On Monday afternoon at 3:10 pm, the courier called to say that I needed to arrange an alternate time for delivery.  They explained that my Ipod had not gone out on the truck that day.  I explained how I was told that it would be delivered, and how I had waited all day at home for it.  There was nothing they could do.  They offered to deliver it to me on Tuesday, which is a problem because I was scheduled to work from 10 am until 11 pm.  After some convincing, I leave my work info and contact number.  They’re to take the package there.

On Tuesday, at 4 pm, I still have not received the package.  I call the courier and provide the appropriate tracking numbers.  Apparently, there is nothing they can tell me.  Except that because I redirected my package from home to work, it probably didn’t go out today.  Apparently, it takes 24-48 hours to process the redirect.

Not entirely satisfied with the information I received from the courier company, not to mention the two days that I had specific instructions for delivery, I decided to see what the tracking number said and where my package was.

Funny enough: My package is showing as delivered.  Apparently, it was delivered at 9:28 this morning.  It was signed for by someone I don’t know.  At this point my best guess is that they took it to the shipping and receiving department at work.  And who knows how long it will take for them to get it to me.  If it gets to me.

Tool Box

2006-07-05T01:37:00.000-03:00

He carries his tools in a large red bag.  He jokingly calls it his purse.  Really, it’s just a large canvas bag.  But at least he is secure enough to joke about it being a purse.

My tools are in a tool box.  It’s black with a red clasp.  I feel mysterious when I carry it – only because I know I don’t look like the type of person who carries a toolbox around.

Inside both of our chosen methods of transportation is hours of enjoyment.  Hours worth of silver to be cut, soldered, filed, soldered again, filed again, and then polished.  Hours of projects.  Limitless possibilities.

Inside my tool box are rings which I’m going to eventually drill to add a middle piece and an earring hook.  There are also rings for fingers, work in progress.  There are small links, and when I feel up to it, I will continue making the chain link bracelet.

Inside his tool bag is a really neat and intricately cut bracelet design.  Work so detailed that I only dream and imagine having the patience to execute so finely.  His tool collection is much more expanded than mine.  And organized too.

Our toolkits both contain many of the same basics, but other slightly different tools.  Our tools are more suited to the type of work we like to do.  We share, and what we don’t have, the studio likely has in their tool cupboard.

Inside both of our heads are the right tools. Tools of creativity.  Tools of patience, and impatience. Designs, waiting to escape.  Corners that can be cut.  Details to fine to overlook.   Ideas waiting to materialize into personalized pieces of art.  Beauty from the world as we see it.

Apocalypse Now

2006-06-29T00:12:00.000-03:00

I spent the better part of the day preparing for the apocalypse.  Then Greggory King informed me that the apocalypse is a revelation, not the end of the world.  So now, I’m not sure where I am.

It started this morning.

An inexplicable man landed against my 5th floor office window with a thud.  I was sitting at my desk minding my own business and hard at work when it happened.  A few minutes earlier, I thought I had seen a rope swing by.  But when I looked out of the window I could see no signs that it had actually happened.  I figured I just imagined it.  Then BOOM.  There he was.  He smiled and waved.  I was pretty sure he was the Grim Reaper.  Turned out he was actually a window washer.  At this point, closing the blinds just didn’t seem right.  So I went about my business, and thankfully, he was gone about a minute later.

All the way home, Eepod the Ipod had been skipping songs. This has been happening for two days.  I thought I would plug it in to my computer, and try to trouble shoot the problem.  After spending about an hour on the Ipod support website, and rebooting my computer about 15 times because it crashed every time I plugged in my Ipod, it became quite clear that this was the end for Eepod the Ipod.  May she rest in peace.

Now, while I was in the midst of trying to get Eepod up and running, the internet stopped working.  So I reset all the funny little black boxes numerous times, rebooting the computer numerous times, and finally admitted defeat.

I then went to make a phonecall… but there was no dial tone.  I hung up, and tried again. And again, and again.  Eventually, I made the calls from my cell phone.

At this point, I’m feeling pretty cut off from the rest of the world.  No ipod, no phone, and no computer.  And if that doesn’t signal the beginning of the end of the world, I don’t know what does.

Baker Baker

2006-06-22T19:08:00.000-03:00

I want to decorate cakes.  This does not mean that I want to bake them.  However, in order to actively participate in cake decorating class, one must bring a cake to class.
The thought of me making a cake from scratch made me laugh.  So I picked up a box of Duncan Hines Cake mix.  Should be easy enough.

I was proud of my efforts and thought I had done an excellent job.  I put my cake in the oven and went to watch some TV.  No more than 10 minutes later, there was a funny burning smell.  I went to investigate.
Apparently, I had filled the cake pan too full.  There was now cake batter on the floor of my oven.  The burning smell was the cake that was burning on the element.  I grabbed a spatula, and scraped it off the element.  The cake that was on the bottom of the oven was a nice fluffy goldeny brown mess.  I cleaned up, assured myself that everything would be okay, and returned to the living room.

About 5 minutes later, it was overflowing again.  Repeat of previous paragraph.

FINALLY… the cake has stopped overflowing, is golden brown on the top and the knife I stuck in the middle came out nice and clean.   I take the cake out of the oven, leave it to cool, and head out for a  bit.

By the time I return to my house, the inside of the cake has fallen in.  Significantly.  To the point where I have a nice crispy outside, a lovely golden brown top and a very soupy middle of the cake.  Garbage it was unsalvageable.

I didn’t make it to cake decorating class the next day.  I did not have a cake to decorate.
My last class is on Saturday, and this time I got smart – I just phoned in an order to the Superstore bakery.  One cake, without icing for pickup, please.

Hey, I want to decorate cakes, not bake them.

The Sound Of

2006-06-14T00:35:00.000-03:00

The sound in her living room is much different than the sound in my living room.  So different, in fact, that I had to question it.

“Are those bird sounds real?”

She looked confused.  So was I.  I couldn’t remember the last time I heard birds chirping.  I thought she had switched to a nature sounds CD.

I live close to the corner of two main roads close to both Emergency rooms in the city.  At my house, you hear sirens and horns honking all day and all night.  You can always hear cars, and motorcycles. I have upstairs neighbors, and neighbors on the deck that’s by my window. Right now, I’m unintentionally eavesdropping on their conversation.

But at her house, you look out the window and see trees.  And if you sit in silence, you hear birds chirping.  And yes, they’re real.

I think this is a sign that I need to get out of the city a little more often.

Free to Good Home

2006-06-08T00:15:00.000-03:00

Sales Associate Available. Apply within.

That was the sign I saw in the window of an upscale menswear store downtown.  Does it strike anyone else as funny?

It made me laugh because the first thing that came to my mind is this.

“Yes, this is ____(Insert name of Sales Associate here).  And he is available.  I’ll need you to fill out this application to determine if you are a suitable match for him.  Please state your intentions clearly.  If he’s not your satisfaction, perhaps you can leave your contact info and we will notify you if someone else becomes available.”

Part of me wants to go in and apply.  Just for laughs, because they’re probably expecting someone to apply for a position as a sales associate.  Oops.

Karma Chameleon

2006-06-07T23:59:00.000-03:00

This morning, I was inexplicably itchy when I woke up.  After my shower, and a good slathering of Aveeno lotion, I felt much better.

I picked out a t-shirt and a sweater and went to work.  I was not itchy.

When I got home from work, I changed into some casual clothes.  My long sleeve green t-shirt was fresh out of the wash.  I put it on without thinking much about it.  An hour later, I was inexplicably itchy again.

And that’s when I put this all together – it’s the laundry soap.  I ran out of laundry soap last week.  I figured Megan wouldn’t really notice if I took enough soap to wash two loads of laundry.  So that’s what I did, two loads with my soap, two loads with hers.

And as you’ve probably guessed by now, all the clothes that are making me itchy were washed in her soap.  I didn’t really believe in karma, until today.  Stealing soap leads to itchy Tracy.  Got it.

Feet First

2006-06-04T23:22:00.000-03:00

I had the feeling that someone was watching me.  I spun my office chair around, and sure enough, my boss was standing in the doorframe.

We exchanged morning pleasantries and then she explained what really drew her out of her office.  She had ventured out to see what shoes I had decided to wear to work that day.
Apparently, she had been impressed with the weekly rotation of shoes and wanted to see what else I had in store.

I laughed.  It was a rainy day.  I had walked to work in Red rubber boots with white polka dots.  When I got to work, I switched to navy blue Birkenstocks with the funky beige pattern.  I opted for those, because they were already at work in my desk drawer.  They weren’t my first choice for the day, but they were easy and comfortable.

So now the week starts again.  I haven’t done any of the usual planning ahead of the footwear for the week.  And now that I know someone is watching, I’m under even a little more pressure.  But I know one thing, with the right shoes I’m able to put my best foot forward.

The Sound of Silence

2006-06-01T01:51:00.000-03:00

I’m not used to things being so quiet.

Megan is sitting about 5 feet away from me and I can hear the click, click, click of her laptop keyboard.

Finnigan is wandering around the apartment meowing loudly.  He is saying hello and vying for our attention.

I’m sitting here typing away.  Occasionally, I will sigh loudly.

Megan and I make random conversation.  Mostly acknowledged as opposed to perpetuated.

Shhh… it’s oh so quiet.
This is how things normally are around here.  Except for one thing—there is usually a steady stream of music coming from my laptop.  But not tonight. It’s not working.  And if tomorrow, when I turn on my laptop and it still won’t sing to me, I’ll let this be known as the day the music died.  Can I have a moment of silence in memory, please?

His and Hers

2006-05-30T00:57:00.000-03:00

I thought it was kind of strange that two major and opposing political parties had signs on the same lawn. Both of the signs spanned about 6 feet long on opposite signs of the yard. And then the truth was revealed with a painted wood sign attached on its own post. One said “His” the other said “Hers”. Good to know they’ve reached some sort of a compromise.

Birds and the Bees

2006-05-26T22:54:00.000-03:00

“Are you here to hurt my new baby?”

His four year old voice was laden with concern and the intention to protect his new baby sister.  He spoke to me very matter of factly.  I knew I had to state my intention immediately.

“Nope, I have a present for your new baby”.  I showed him the bag of books I had carried into the room.

This seemed to please him.  We talked together about books, and what his new baby was seeing and hearing.  He seemed to like the books and the idea of reading with his baby sister.  I knew things were going a different way when he climbed up on the bed, lifted the blanket off of his mom’s belly.  He patted it gently and affectionately.

“You know what?” He interrupted in a tone that suggested I had better listen.
“The baby was in Mommy’s tummy, and then it just popped out her vagina!”

He said it with such enthusiasm and pride.
His parents were mortified. I just laughed. because kids really do tell it like it is.

Small and tall

2006-05-24T23:29:00.000-03:00

This is the first time all day that I’ve felt like I can stand tall.  And to tell you the truth, the only reason I can/am is because I have new shoes on.  They’re tall shoes—2 inch wedge cork heel tall.

I’ve spent the better part of the day feeling small.  Knowing I did what I needed to do, but wishing there was a better way or an easier way.  Right or wrong doesn’t matter, the decision and the repercussion of it still leaves me standing smaller.  Probably somewhere in the neighbourhood of 3 apples tall.

And I wonder, after everything that has happened, if I’ll ever be barefoot or flat shoes tall again.  Or maybe, it’ll be wedge heels for the next little or long while. Its good I bought them in both beige and black.

Stress

2006-05-24T03:05:00.000-03:00

Dad’s beard was a little more salt than pepper.  The hair on top of dad’s head was a little more pepper than salt.

Each patch on Dad’s head was affectionately named after one of the three girls.  The patches grayed more or less – depending on what antics my sisters and I got up to.  Sometimes they stayed gray, sometimes they grew back dark.

I’m glad I don’t have a beard.  Instead, I’ve shown stress in another way – a massive breakout.  Each bright red pimple that has erupted from my face tells another story.  I’ve started dishing out the responsibility – claiming to know what each one represents.  And what if they don’t go away? Does the mean I’m uncurable? And what if they do?  Does that mean I’m fixed.

You know, it’s time like this that really make me wish I could grow a beard.  Then I would at least be able to hide something.

Mini Me

2006-05-14T20:41:00.000-03:00

Somewhere along the way I forgot what it's like to be nine years old.

"I'm a very good dancer." She said to me very matter-of-factly.
"And I've also taught myself Karate. I'm very good at it."

I looked at her and smiled.
"Is that so? Have you ever taken lessons?"

She told me that she hadn't. She just knows how to dance.

She put on one of her favourite CDs -- the Minipops.
I was shocked to find out they're still around. I remember dancing to the Minipops in my basement.

She took a pose and waited for the music to start. Within the next few minutes, legs and arms were flying about as she grooved in her own way to the munchkin pop music on the stereo.

I laughed and smiled as I watched her. I remember rainy days spent choreographing dances in the basement. She danced and sang along.
That so would have been me when I was nine years old.

Senseless

2006-05-12T01:29:00.000-03:00

I couldn’t figure out why the car stopped at the red light was honking at me.  I looked closely, then realized, that I did not know the people in it.  They honked again and flailed their arms in attempt to gain my attention.  They then made a pointing gesture and I looked to see the Five dollar bill that was in my pocket was now twirling across Robie Street.  Without thinking, and I seriously mean without, I did what ‘seemed’ logical – I ran after it.

As per usual, I had my Ipod turned up way to loud.  Combine that with noise canceling headphones and I am a little shorter on senses than I should be.  And if you don’t have any sense, let alone common sense, darting out onto Robie Street is something you do without a second thought.

Two steps off the sidewalk though, as the bill blew a few feet further away, I realized.  I looked to the left and noticed a car headed in my direction. Thankfully, at this point I had enough time to return safely to the sidewalk.  I kept my eye on my money, and was soon enough able to run and catch it – safely.

I thanked my lucky stars, and the guardian angel who has saved me from disaster on more than one occasion and carefully pocketed the money and continued the quest to the Starbucks.

To add insult to almost injury, on the way back from the Starbucks, I spilled coffee on my coat, and my ipod.  Thankfully, I missed the seatbelt bag!

By the time I got back to work I vowed to start re-thinking the necessity of fieldtrips from work.  Or if nothing else, to start paying a little more attention.  It all reminds me of a bad joke:

Why did the Tracy cross the road?

Because her Starbucks money flew out of her pocket and started to get away! Yikes!

Facelift

2006-05-10T00:49:00.000-03:00

It was time for a change. And since the writing and posting hasn’t been going well lately I thought I would jazz up the template. So I did what every smart girl should do – I found someone and bribed them to do it for me. Thank you: as only a tray of chocolate baklava could say.

So this is essentially a test post. I blog from Word, so I just want to see how it looks in the new template.

In the meantime, what do you think of the new look? Too much, too little? Keep me posted, and I promise to start posting again soon. Cross my heart and kiss my elbow.

Coffee Time

2006-05-02T00:16:00.000-03:00

I wonder if this will change things in the morning.

More often than not, we pass each other on the street Monday through Friday at roughly 9:45.  I’m always on my way to work.  She is always walking in the opposite direction.  And always, carrying 4 Tim Horton Coffees.  I wonder, where is she going, and who are all those coffees for?

Whether walking hurriedly while bundled in scarves and mittens, or strolling on a sunny day, or frantically trying to avoid the rain, we always smile and exchange morning pleasantries.

I don’t quite understand it, only because the Tim Hortons closest to where we usually meet is about 7 minutes away.  There isn’t much in the stretch where we usually meet, which makes me wonder where is she going with that many coffees.  And as far as I can tell, there is a closer Tims.  Why the loyalty to the one she has been going to?  Why carry that many coffees, that many blocks?

The Starbucks opened today.  This afternoon, I stopped in for my coffee.  Heaven.
Will this change her morning routine?  I’ll keep you posted.

Short Order

2006-05-01T00:53:00.000-03:00

The waiter returned with unbearable bad news – their fryers were not working.  Which meant the only food we could order included sandwiches, wraps, and salads.  We would need to replace our order, or leave.  Either way the waiter said he’d understand.

I was halfway through a pint of beer.  I took another sip and we discussed the possibility of staying.

“We’re staying – if that will sway your decision any”.
The voice came from the table that was a few feet away from ours.  The two men had ordered fish and chips, but like us, they also had to change their mind to sandwiches and salads.

We all laughed together and discussed the merits of staying versus leaving.  Basically, we all decided that hungry people stay – leaving was a lot of work, and where else would we go to eat?

We watched their meal arrive shortly after we replaced our order.  It looked good.  They said they thought so too.  When ours arrived, we thought the same.  We were pleased with the forced healthiness of sandwiches and salads for our supper.

As they got up to leave, we had a quick chat about how we enjoyed our dinner.  We all agreed that we felt better having salads and not French fries.  He came over, shook our hands and introduced himself.

“I’m Stephen, by the way.”
I extended my hand to meet his.  “Tracy”.
“With or without an “E”?”
“Without”.

He then turned to my roomie.
“Megan”
“With or without and ‘H’?”

I wished I was a little wittier.  I should have asked him if he was with a “V” or a “PH”.  But I didn’t.

We wished each other good evening.  He and his buddy left the restaurant. We laughed about the whole situation.  And my first thought was, I can’t wait to blog that.  That was too funny.

Grammar SOS

2006-04-30T12:35:00.000-03:00

The tune is catchy.  I found myself grooving around my room as I got ready for work.  The radio announced a new tune from Rihanna.”S-O-S…. Somebody help me, Y-O-U-R making this hard…..”

I stopped. And waited for it to come around again.  Sure enough, the next chorus, she spells out SOS, and then YOUR.

Your. Possessive.  As in, “That’s your book”.
You’re. Contraction. You are.  “You’re crazy”. “You’re making this hard”

There was nothing for me to do but laugh.

Although, imagine the song if they had corrected it.  “Y-O-U- Apostrophe-R-E making this hard.”  It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

Hot and Steamy

2006-04-28T17:24:00.000-03:00

I noticed the sign from about a block away. Then I noticed the people with trademark black clothing and a green apron. They were unpacking boxes.

The familiarity of the green and white sign was enough to make my heart pitter patter – as if I had consumed several espressos, lattes, coffees, and sugar-laden desserts.

I’ve been waiting a long time for this. And funny enough, the thought of yesterday was “I would practically give my left arm for a Starbucks Coffee.” And today, on a bright and sunny Friday afternoon, I saw them adding a Starbucks to the edge of downtown. Ten minutes from home , 5 minutes from work. What more could a girl want?

Anti-aging devices

2006-04-27T23:39:00.000-03:00

“I really like you with straight hair.  It makes you look so much younger.”

I squinted an eyebrow and laughed.

“Thanks”, said with a little uncertainty and hesitation.

I couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by that.  Normally, I take comments at face value.  Today, I couldn’t help but wondering if I look older than I’m supposed to.  Kind of funny really, I’ve never really worried about it before.

I know, just over a week ago, I had one more candle on my cake. I’m loving this stage in my life.  Older but wiser.  Too old to care, but too young to count.  But is life really downhill at 26?  I didn’t think so. But today, I’m starting to give it a little more thought.

Pseudo-Nurse

2006-04-24T00:33:00.000-03:00

I answered the phone for about the 50th time since my shift started about 2 hours ago.

A parent launched into a story about a two and a half year old.  She proceeded to tell me about her baby’s symptoms.

With as much sympathy as I could muster, I explained to her that I was prohibited from giving any medical advice over the phone.  I  explained that she could phone her family doctor or bring the child in.

As per usual, the parent argued with me.  “You mean I have to pack my child up and haul them in on a day like today for you to tell me there is nothing wrong with them?” (said with a tone of disgust and condescension.)

“If you’re worried, you’re more than welcome to bring your child in.”

“But you can’t tell me what is wrong over the phone?” (slightly more agitated)

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“You’re useless. You should go back to nursing school.”  Her voice was yelling at me now.

“I’m not a nurse! I’ve never been to nursing school!” I snapped back without missing a beat.

SLAM.  The unmistakable clunk of someone hanging up on me.

I returned the phone to it’s cradle and laughed to myself.

Sure enough, a few hours later, they arrived in the department.  And to add insult to injury, I had to take them over for an x-ray.  Not a word about the incident was spoken.  But it sure is a good thing that looks can’t kill. Because if they could I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here to tell the tale.

Soup Nazi

2006-04-20T15:15:00.000-03:00

I was a little less than impressed with the day’s selections.  But nonetheless, I wanted soup for lunch.  Of the four selections, only one was vegetarian.  It was a no brainer – Tomato Basil soup it would be.

Now, the last time I ordered Tomato Basil, I was pleasantly surprised.  Originally, it would not have been my first choice for a soup.  But it was the best of the options.  It turned out to be one of the most delicious soups I had eaten from the Pete’s To Go-go lunch counter.

Again, it wouldn’t have been my first choice for soup, but it was the only vegetarian option.  It was a cold and rainy day and soup was what I really wanted for lunch.  So, a bowl of tomato basil soup I ordered.

The first bite wasn’t good.  Actually, it was awful.  All I could taste was salt – no tomato, no basil – just salt.  I stirred my soup thinking that would help, but it didn’t.
I’m not usually one to complain or send food back, but this time, I knew it had to be done.

I approached the counter with my defective soup in hand.  As I explained the predicament to the cashier, she looked at me with a puzzled look.

“Do you have your receipt?”
“Umm… nope. You didn’t give me one.”
“Well, I would have tried very hard too.”
“Oh, well, I don’t have it.”

She thought and continued to look at me blankly.
“I don’t think I can return your soup without a receipt.”
My turn to look puzzled.
“Well, I guess I could. But next time hang on to your receipt.”
She handed me $4.59.
“Sure, next time I will”.  My turn to give her a funny look.

In the background I heard someone order a Tomato Basil soup.  All I wanted to do was stop them.  Or at least remind them to hold onto their receipt.

May the Circle be Unbroken

2006-04-18T00:54:00.000-03:00

It’s hard not to think ahead. It’s also hard not to think behind.

But that’s the beauty of the situation. Older sometimes translates to wiser, and wiser comes with the territory of lessons learned the hard way. Lessons learned the hard way will often age you, or take a few years off your life. That’s the real circle of life.

Franticity

2006-04-12T19:34:00.000-03:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, it has been one heck of a day.  And I’ve been awake for less than 12 hours.  Here’s how it all began.

9:05 – I’m awake. I have 55 minutes to shower, dress, pack a lunch worthy of a 12 hour day, and walk to work.

9:11 – Okay, I’m really going to get out of bed now.

9:43 – I’m leaving for work.  I’m not contented with spending 12 hours in the clothes I have on. On the plus side, I have clothes on.  I decide to come home between job 1 and job 2.

Work is going well, a little busy.  I return some phonecalls, reply to some emails and decide to tackle an Excel spreadsheet.  Ten minutes later, Excel is not co-operating with me.  No worries, it’s a beautiful day, and I’ve been meaning to go order some new books, so I decide to walk to the bookstore.

The bookstore doesn’t have everything I wanted in stock , so I place some special orders and carry along my way.  On my way back to the office, I run into a fitness trainer from the old gym I used to go to.  She is so excited to see me that she gives me a hug.  We chat and do some catching up.  Then, I run into Marti.  So Marti joins me for the walk most of the way back to work.

I get back to work about 5 minutes before I’m supposed to be done for the day.  Problem is I have some stuff to do before the end of the day.  So I finish up and leave work about 20 minutes behind schedule.  This means that I’ve only got 40 minutes before starting my shift in Emerg.

Granted that it takes 15 minutes to walk home , I’ve decided that I’ve got just enough time to go home, change my clothes, put my contacts in and return to work.  That’s exactly what I do.

I arrive at work at 3:01.  My legs are burning from walking so fast. I’m hungry but have a bag of carrots in my purse. (in the midst of all this chaos I haven’t had much to eat all day).  When I arrive at work, the day shifter looks at me, and then at the other ward clerk and says, uh-oh.  I ask for the schedule.  Turns out, I don’t work until tomorrow afternoon.  Big oops. And to add insult to injury, I rescheduled some appointments from Tuesday (because I forgot I was busy), to Thursday when I thought I was unbusy.  Now I’ll have to unscheduled again.
So I walk home (at a more relaxed pace) and call the hair people to reschedule.  Turns out if I can make it there in 20 minutes, they have time for me.  I put my shoes back on, grab an apple, and run out the door.

Now I’m there, getting my hair done, and I decide I want a new colour.  Its been driving me nuts for a while, and I’m already in the chair… so she cuts, then she colours.  In the midst of all this, my aesthetician comes in.  She’s not due to start at that salon until Tuesday, but she’s in the process of setting up.  And since she’s doing that, and I had an appointment with her for Tuesday (then Thursday, then Tuesday again), she offers to fix me up while I’m there.  So she does.

I’m home now.  I have a new haircut, a new hair colour and freshly waxed brows.  So despite the helter-skelterness of my day, I feel great.  Now it kind of sucks because I have to work an evening shift tomorrow.  But I’ll worry about that tomorrow.  And right now, I have some take-out Chinese Food waiting for me. After that, I’m going to go do some beading and unwind a little.

Dancing Queens

2006-04-11T23:46:00.000-03:00

She dances while her father plays guitar.  She’s suddenly beautiful, and we all want something beautiful.

Belly dancing – Week two.

No one played guitar, and certainly not anyone’s father.  But there were dancers.  And there were scarves.  And quite frankly, that was good enough for us.

Now, the funny thing is that us girls that possess poor skills of co-ordination had a little difficulty today.  While everyone else draped their scarves eloquently with a single and fluid hand motion, my spastic hand motion blinded me, and almost suffocated me on more than one occasion.

And when you incorporate the hip movements that are supposed to occur if I remember to bend my right knee at the right angle then transfer the weight to the right part of the left foot, it all gets a little complicated.  Just a little.

But we twirled, and scarves twirled with us.  And we danced, and the scarves danced with us.  We laughed, and I swear those scarves laughed too.

Lot full

2006-04-10T23:55:00.000-03:00

They say goldfish have no memory and that their life is a lot like mine.  The little plastic castle is a surprise every time.

When I finished my degree last summer, I was afraid my brain was going to turn to mush.  I embarked on many courses of self-directed learning (mostly in the form of reading non fiction books about subjects that interest me) – all so my brain would not forget how to learn.

I also took some courses for general interest.  Things I’ve always wanted to try – jewelry making (Sterling silver) and glass bead making, then eventually the second level of jewelry.  I also started guitar lessons.

Last week, I had my first Belly Dancing Class.  Yesterday, my first lesson driving a standard car.

And do you know what the lesson of today is?  My brain is full to capacity.  It told me so.  Smack in the middle of my guitar lesson.  My teacher would show me something, I would repeat it without much difficulty, and then the next time I went to play it, I couldn’t.  I couldn’t even remember a little bit.

I’m hoping if I get some sleep that my brain will empty out a bit.  Or maybe all the info will settle down and make room for some new stuff.  Because right now, I think it’s too full to even think… and people who like to over-think things need a brain that can handle that.

All this is too bad really.  I had big plans for my future.  Huge, actually.  I guess the old brain really is getting old.  I think it just needs a vacation.

clutch

2006-04-10T01:28:00.000-03:00

Clutch.

Laughter.  She was laughing at the look on my face.  The car lurched several times then came to a very abrupt halt.

“Oops, That wasn’t what I wanted to happen at all”.

Marti relaxed in the passenger’s seat while I took the wheel.  I’ve wanted to learn to drive a standard car for quite a while now.  And Marti, being the brave soul that she is, offered to teach me.

I wasn’t the only person having a Sunday afternoon driving lesson in Bayer’s Lake.  The parking lots were empty of the usual shopping traffic. They were however scantily clad with nervous drivers.

It brought back memories of the first time I learned to drive a car.  It was also a Sunday afternoon and a rather empty parking lot.  I was nervous as the car rolled forward.  Today, I was nervous as the car rolled backwards.

We stopped and started.  Sometimes, more stopping than starting, especially while trying to start.   The one hill ( a minor slope) wasn’t too bad.  I found that things worked the first few times I tried them.  Then I got forgetful.  Clutch, break, gear, wait- which gear, reverse ?!? There is a lot to remember while driving a standard. But I know once I get the hang of it, I’m really going to like it.   A few more lessons though, and I’ll be ready to take the road.
Clutch.   You forgot the clutch.  You can’t shift without the clutch.  You’re going to stall…. Use the clutch.

And to think, the only kind of clutch I really took into much consideration before today is a clutch bag.  It’s also a good thing I had my seatbelt bag with me.  Because while I’m learning, a few extra seatbelts can’t hurt.  Especially in Race Car Red.

The ring

2006-04-01T15:57:00.000-04:00

We had perfected the plot over the course of the week.

It was so perfect, in fact, that I couldn’t even remind her that April Fools Day was near – I didn’t want her to think I was up to something. Naturally, I was.

For the better part of the week I have been giggling to myself about what has be one of the best jokes I’ve ever played on a person – I was plotting my engagement. Yesterday, I went to the store to purchase myself a fake, but reputable looking, engagement ring.

Megan was expected home at about 0700. She worked a night shift. I set my alarm for 0630 so I would be sure to wake up on time to fool her. As I came bounding out of my room, she apologized for waking me up. I told her I was up because I was waiting for her – I had news. It was then; I presented my sparkly ring on the ring finger of the left hand.

The look on her face was priceless – it was a mix of shock and disbelief. I kept going with the details of the romantic evening (dinner and a long walk on the waterfront), a long conversation about how we just know we’re meant for each other. I talked openly and freely, making up stories and details about the wedding plan – destination. No, we weren’t going to get married anytime soon – but why wait to get engaged. I had her convinced.

We talked, we laughed, we hugged, she went to bed. I on the other hand collapsed into my bed in a fit of giggles.

At about 2pm my cell phone rang: “Tracy Lowe, are you really engaged, or is this just an April Fools Day joke?”.

I laughed, she laughed. I got her, I got her good.

Backlash

2006-03-31T00:59:00.000-04:00

I was going to unpost yesterday’s post.  But when you put something out there like that, it’s not fair.  So I’m leaving it there. And writing a follow-up.

I liked the comment about sometimes not getting my posts.  Sometimes I don’t get them either.  And usually, since this is public domain, there is more unsaid than there is said.  I’m sorry if I have to be vague sometimes.

Truth be told though: things are great right now.  I assure you, I am safe, happy and healthy.  I’m happy, safe and healthy.  I’m healthy, happy and safe.  I’m safe, healthy and happy. I’m happy, healthy and safe.  Are you getting the idea yet?

So thank you all for your concern.  But really, everything is great.  I think I’m just exhausted and every once in a while, I like to sit down and think things through.

Well, I went to be about an hour ago.  Couldn’t sleep then, but after a cup of Hot Blue Jello, I think I’m willing to try again.  Nighty –night folks.  And I promise to get back to some real writing soon.  Pinky swear.

Truth or Dare

2006-03-30T00:06:00.000-04:00

Okay, truth.  It’s daring.

Today was a sunny day, and a warm day.  And I thought, and I knew, that it was not the day to mull, it was not the day to think things through.  So I diverted my thoughts to flip flops and peasant skirts.  I focused my energy on doing what needed to be done.

But it’s the end of the day.  And I’ve been out of energy since about 7 pm.  So I’ve spent the better part of the evening affixed to my couch.  I’ve spent the evening with my friends Ryan, Seth , Marissa and Summer, and Merideth, George, Christina, Izzy and Derek.  And after catching up on the last month of happenings in their lives, I’ve started to think through what needs thinking about my own life.

I said I felt fine about it.  And really, what choice did I have?  I played up the confidence – when inside there were red flags.  Optimism, yes – but that’s when the sun was out.  It was not the type of day that you waste away in a pity party.  That’s what after sunset is for.  And truthfully, since I stated that I dared to take that route, I did feel fine about things.

But I’ve been moping unnecessarily all evening, and it only just occurred to me that this might have something to do.  Sit here and continue worrying?  I don’t dare.

You've Got Mail!

2006-03-29T15:30:00.000-04:00

Usually, I send emails to avoid talking to people.  Not that I want to avoid them—it’s often just easier to say what needs to be said, and do what needs to be done, over email.  I like the trail it leaves behind in my in and out box.  I can’t be accountable for what I say in person – I’m much too forgetful for that.

This morning, I received a call from someone who had misplaced my email address.  The tone of her voice was frantic as she said, “I’ve been searching for it for days”.

Now, at this point, I would think she was also looking for me urgently.  Or if not so urgently, that there was something that she wanted to address.  I gave her my email address and waited patiently for her to explain the nature of the email she was about to send me.

Instead, she wrote down my email address, wished me a good day and ended the call.  No explanation of the matter for which she urgently needed to email me.

I guess I’ll just wait for the info to appear in my inbox.

Memory Lane

2006-03-26T12:00:00.000-04:00

Flashback. 1993. Thirteen years old and scared beyond belief, I had to go to the highschool. A school that I would start in Grade seven and graduate from at the end of my Senior/OAC/Grade 13 year.

It's no surprise that hanging out here with her insipired a trip down memory lane. We took out, looked at, and poured over our documented existence at the school. It brought back fond memories, and not so fond ones.

Some disbelief, "Did I really look like that?" What the heck was I talking about in my year end message? References to inside jokes, code names for crushes, and complaints about generalized adolescent malaise. It's all there. Some of it easier to understand than others.

Time spent reflecting has led us to one very affirmative conclusion -- Highschool Sucked. But it's over.

The yearbooks have immortalized us in ways we can't beleive -- What was I wearing? Who was I with? I had awful hair back then.

But, we're immortalized.

Ottawa!

2006-03-25T17:12:00.000-04:00

A somewhat sleepier than usual version of me boarded a plane on Friday afternoon. With the last of the last minute errands complete, I made it to the airport and checked in about 20 minutes later than they would have liked me to. Funny enough it was perfect. There was just enough time to check in, clear security, get a Starbucks Latte and board the plane. There was not a bit of sitting and waiting in there.

Interestingly enough, even Starbucks felt like Ontario. As she asked where I was headed, she interpreted Ottawa to mean I was going to Toronto. "Where in Toronto are you going?"

"I'm not -- I'm going to Ottawa".
Small talk, small talk, small talk. Grande Latte firm in my hands.
"Have a great time in Toronto".

But really, when i've got a Starbucks Latte, I'm a happy girl. And I don't care if they don't know where to find me. I'm right where I want to be this weekend

MIA

2006-03-23T17:36:00.000-04:00

For days now, my blog has been MIA. Where did it go? I do not know.

But i'm going to publish this post and then try to republish the whole thing to see if it comes back. It had better, I have two funny stories to write. Not that I'm trying to get your hopes up. Stay tuned.

And now, we fade to black. Or white, actually.

Walking on Broken Glass

2006-03-21T15:24:00.000-04:00

It’s the end of the world as I know it.

That’s right. You heard it here first.  And I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

While in the midst of a sleepy stupor, I broke my full length mirror.  If you’re thinking this story sounds familiar, it’s because I broke one about a month ago.  Both times, I walked into it, and it fell forward, glass side down and shattered.

So now I’m up to 14 years of bad luck.  It feels like I’m walking on broken glass.  Speaking of which, I should go sweep that up now.

Red is Best

2006-03-21T01:47:00.000-04:00

My roomie hadn’t been feeling well for the past few days.  I offered to make her some hot jello.  She’d never heard of it before, but thought she should give it a try.  To be quite honest, I had never actually tried it for myself.  I’d just heard all about it.

She was skeptical, but I explained how I knew a whole family that swore by it.  So we fished out a box of jello from the box of the cupboard and thought we’d give it a try.
We mixed her up the package, I poured her a cup and eagerly waited her reaction.  She liked it.  I was jealous, I wanted to try too.  Then it dawned on us… you can’t put it in the fridge and save it for later.  So we poured me up a cup too.

I can’t believe I didn’t try this sooner.   It’s great!

Tonight, I made some more.  Just because.  I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I think I’ve just found an alternative to coffee.

Egocentric Messenger

2006-03-15T01:24:00.000-04:00

The messenger.  Please, don’t shoot me.

I am the unknowing bearer of bad news.  I answer the phone.

I ask people to wait patiently while I try to track down whoever it is they need to get a hold of.  I never know what I’m dealing with – that’s not really my concern.  I don’t know the stories, the news, the questions or the answers from the people on the other end of the phone.

“She’s just with a patient right now, can I put you on hold for a minute?” They almost never say no.

“Thank you, it shouldn’t be too long.  Please hold.”

And just like that, they wait.  Are they rehearsing the news they called with?  Are they thinking about their day, their grocery list, their laundry, their favourite TV show? Maybe they’re thinking about what they have to do tomorrow.  Maybe they’re just thinking about how they’re going to make it through the next few minutes, few hours, or few days.  Maybe.  Maybe they’re too tired, scared or angry to think.

Sometimes I have to go back and let people know it will be a few more minutes than I thought.  They wait, patiently.  Maybe silently rehearsing, maybe silently thinking.  Or maybe patient on the outside, and anxious on the inside.

I see how the news affects people.  And I stop to think about what news I just passed along.  And really, when I see someone that upset, I want to cry not only for them, but also with them.

Crossing the Line

2006-03-09T01:51:00.000-04:00

In the midst of chaos, I had things under control.  All four of the phone lines were lit up, but I knew who was on hold, why they were on hold, and what they needed.  I took a minute to clear some of the call bulk.  I announced everyone their respective calls with the usual what line they needed to answer and who it was that was holding for them.
As everyone scrambled to find an available phone, I swiveled in my chair to return to the one call that was holding for me.  Someone else had picked it up.

In fact, several someone else’s had picked up someone else’s.

Confusion and panic. And chaos.  I knew who was on each of those lines. And I know I gave people the right line numbers to answer.  And the people I work with are smart. So when I say Line 50, they wouldn’t just answer Line 51 for the heck of it.  Unless – and here comes the lightbulb moment—the phone line numbers on my phones don’t correspond with the phone line numbers on the other phones.

So we tried out the theory, and sure enough, what we have is a labeling issue.  What is line 50 on my desk, is labeled as line 51 on another.  Line 51 on my desk, is line 52 on one phone and line 51 on another. And on my desk, I also have two lines that are not labeled on any of the other phones.  Whether or not they’re just for me, or for everyone else is now an entirely new possibility.
My bias sides to my phone having the correct labels-- only because it’s my job to answer the phone.   Mind you, the ward clerks got a new phone last week… so that could have something to do with all this.  And to think, the first time I worked with it, I was more concerned that there is now capability of 5 different phone lines to be answered on it.  And to think, at the time, I thought that one more number for me to worry about was crossing the line.  But now, this opens up an entirely new can of worms.

Jewels

2006-03-05T02:11:00.000-04:00

I stumbled into Jewelry class about 15 minutes late.  I picked up my tool box on the way into the studio, parked myself at my usual bench, and sat.  I looked at the box bewilderedly.  I sat and tried to collect my thoughts.

“No coffee this morning, Tracy?”

I grumbled as much of a response as I could muster.

The fact that I didn’t have a coffee was kind of a sore spot.  Despite the fact that I was late, I did stop at the usual coffee shop on the way in.  The line was long, and after waiting for about 5 minutes in a line that went no where (big downside to fancy coffee shops that also cook breakfast), I decided it wasn’t worth my while.  So I left, and went to class empty handed.

“Let’s grab a coffee after class – my treat.  I could use one too”.  The look on his face showed frustration as he mulled over the 4 mm stone he was setting in a ring .

The invitation surprised me.  But it was coffee and it was morning—how could I say ‘no’.  I also knew that after three hours of fine detailed jewelry making, a coffee would be long overdue.

Workbenches cleaned and swept. Projects secured in toolboxes.  Toolboxes in the cupboard.  And off we went.

Leaf

2006-02-28T01:53:00.000-04:00

I told you so.

Wait, did I ?  I don’t remember. And quite frankly, it doesn’t matter.  I’ve never been an “I told you so” kind of girl.  Especially if I didn’t tell you in the first place.

This year, at the beginning of the year, I knew things would be different.  Admittedly, I wanted them to be different.  I knew it was possible.  So I decided to make changes.  A little less conversation, a little more action.  Okay, there is still a lot of conversation and inner dialogue – this is me, after all.  But there was going to be more action.

I love how change doesn’t affect you all at once.  Well, in this case it doesn’t anyway.  But I look back, and I see an entirely different me than who I was in January.  Some things the same, some things different, all things me.

No place like home

2006-02-25T02:48:00.000-04:00

I had some free time.  Well, it was designated time, but in extenuating circumstances, it can be re-designated.  I make my own rules which means I can break them too.  So whilst the mission was too find lunch, the mission was also to feed my soul. And to me, that usually involves feeding my soles.

It was an honest adventure.  A short perusing – a simple survey of the landscape.  Before I knew it, I was holding in my hands the very pair of red shoes I had looked at 4 months ago, and 2 months ago, and 1 month ago, and 3 weeks ago.  Now they were marked 40% off.  I picked up the right shoe and clutched it tightly as I waited for the assistance of one of my favourite shoe salesmen in the city.

He had cut his hair since I was in last, and today he had on a great pair of square toed tan boots.  He looked cleaner and more put together than the last time I saw him. The last time I saw him, he helped my blue suede boots look cleaner and more put together – he helped me with cleaning tips.  They’re a new pair of boots now.
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally had the left shoe in my hand.  The second I put them on I knew, there was no place like home.  And a home is what I could provide them with.

I checked the time and realized I had 10 minutes to get to work.  Shoes in hand, I scrambled up the street.  Lunch? Who needs it?

Humorous Humerous

2006-02-24T00:50:00.000-04:00

It was one of those rare moments in life where the world is suddenly in slow motion. My perspective flipped to an image of myself. Both skis were on the ground a minute ago, now, I was flying thorough the air – sideways. There was a loud clean and clear sound. I felt my arm snap, my ski fall off, and then I landed, face down, on top of my obviously fractured arm in the snow. I was unintentionally clutching the pole that had tangled itself in my mitten – the same pole that got caught in my ski, and the same pole that unmistakably caused the rigmarole of the next eight weeks.

I did what anyone lying face down in the snow would do, I picked up my arm, with the obvious bone deformity, clutched it tightly and rolled over. Without my face in the snow, I felt a bit better. Not that it even mattered. I waited as a perfect stranger went to find the ski paramedics.

There are fragments and still frames in my mind that retell the story. I remember waking up to a crew of doctors and nurses standing around me discussing how they were going to cast it. No one had ever seen a clean diagonal break that close to the shoulder before. I fell back to sleep and woke up when the first slab of plaster hit my arm.

The next two weeks were spent in a rocking chair. Every time I lay down they had to rest my arm, finally, the doctor thought it would be best if I just didn’t lie down. I was also not allowed to untie my arm from my waist.

Ten years later, doesn’t feel that long ago. The event is now a humorous memory. It would have been funnier at the time if I knew the bone I broke was actually called the humerous. For weeks, people made that joke, and for weeks, it escaped me.
And now I’m proof. It didn’t kill me, and now my right arm really is stronger. And I’ve got a funny little ridge near my shoulder to prove it.

Swept Away

2006-02-19T03:08:00.000-04:00

Sweep, sweep, sweep!

Oh, I was sweeping alright. Actually, it wasn't so arlight, I don't make a good sweeper. Not in the kitchen, not on the curling ice either.

It was the last rock of the game, I followed it closely. I ran alongside next to it. Until finally, i was flat on my bum, and in so much pain, I was temporarily (speechless). The game kind of stopped, as everyone waited to see how I could recover. Not wanting to show true anguish, I did the unthinkable for someone who could hardly move. I stayed exactly where I was and yelled Sweep! The other team already had one player sweeping for us since we were a player short. Another extra player from thier team joined in. But we overshot and lost the rock anyway.

By the time I got to work, I was walking gingerly-- very gingerly. Getting in and out of my chair is proving to be a problem. Although, thanks to the medicine cabinet here in Emerg, I am able to move around, just not swiftly.

My first curling experience was a lot of fun. I didn't even know how the game was played until tonight. And who knows, once i'm able to walk normally again, I might even venture to trying again.

Right now though, I need a little bed rest, and a lot of pain killers.

Two eyes are better than Four

2006-02-18T06:18:00.000-04:00

I really like glasses, but sometimes, my nose doesn't.

I have been known to collect fun and funky frames. But lately, I find myself removing my frames and freeing my nose at every possible opportunity. I realized it was time to join the rest of the adult and visually-impaired community. Contact lenses. They're for me!

I was told I have an astigmatism, and because of the way my eye doc described it, all I could think was of that little football shaped dude from the Family Guy (Stewie?). Nonetheless, all hope was not lost.

Today, after a drawn out effort, I succeed in putting in and removing my own lenses repeatedly. I'm not so fond of the poking of my own eye, but the novelty of seeing 100% all the time is making this entirely worth it. It feels strange not to reach for my glasses when I need to see the board at work, or even walk down the hall. But to tell you the truth, I'm going to like it.

Song of the day : I can see clearly now, my glasses are gone. I can see all obstacles in my way....

What's Love got to do with it?

2006-02-14T01:04:00.000-04:00

This is the last thing on my list of things to do today.  I’ve been planning this all day.

Happy Valentines Day / Happy Quirky Alone Day!

I’ve been planning to write this all day, because I really am excited to celebrate Valentines Day.  For the record, I’m not celebrating with anyone in particular… unless you reading this right now care to make plans.  In that case call me.

I’m celebrating Valentines Day for what it should be: A celebration of Love!
So significant other or not, there are still people I love.  Like my friends.  I realize I have a kick-ass group of friends.  People who would walk barefoot across the earth for me if I needed them to.  And I would do the same for them – in a heartbeat (no pun intended).

Happy Valentines Day! Happy Quirky Alone Day!  Darlings, you know I love you, and of course, I always smile

So What?

2006-02-11T02:50:00.000-04:00

So.

So what?

It’s a large burden for such a little word.  I mean, really, think about it.  An alveolar fricative combined with a closed, mid, back vowel.  Now, it sounds more important.  So.  Say it again – just one more time.  It weighs heavier on the tongue now.

It’s a bridge.  Used to fill in gaps in the conversation.  So…. It fills awkward silence, shifts the focus of the conversation and allows a new topic to be introduced.

Said defiantly, it can defend your honour, your point of view and essentially your being.
Said inquisitively, it opens up the floor for discussion, clarification and even more questions.

Said mildly, it welcomes conversation with the comfort of a down-filled duvet in the middle of winter.  With the right tone from the right friend it shows concern.  It’s an open ended conversation with the intent to do more listening than talking.

So is about making transitions.  It’s about defining conversations and personalities while asking the questions mildy.  It’s a small word with great expectations.
So?  So what?

Sleepless

2006-02-11T02:06:00.000-04:00

While I was lying in bed, it seems that my head was avoiding sleep. It thought up many great stories, reflections, memories and secrets to tell you. Eventually, it told me to get out of bed to tell you all about it.

I listened. I don’t always listen. Because, really, what fun is it to do what you’re told.

So alas, here I am, sleepless , cold and slightly beyond peckish. I’m in my favourite pajama sweater. I’m ready to tell you tales, but they’ve escaped me. Until now.
This deserves a post all of its own.