a very merry christmas

After hearing my flight was cancelled on Friday, and waiting for an hour and a half in a line to reschedule a flight, I started to feel a little dejected. There were some very nice people in line that made the time go by faster as we each shared our story. The girl behind me missed her connecting flight and her luggage was left in Arizona as they were told they could either take people or luggage. I quickly realized how fortunate I was to at least know where my bags were. I was relieved when I was given a flight the next morning. They told me they could release my bags to me so I could have a change of clothes. After waiting several hours to get my luggage I gave up and went to the hotel with my little toiletry bag from the airline. There were three Elders from my church that were on my original flight on their way home after their two year mission. I felt bad for them and their families having to wait one more day to see each other. My flight the next day was an hour and a half delayed which started to increase my anxiety. When they started boarding us I was in tears out of pure relief and happiness. I was so thankful to know that I would get home in time to spend Christmas with my family.

Tonight we had most the family together (we missed the Bostonians). We watched a video about the birth of the Savior and sang Christmas carols. I had the overwhelming feeling of gratitude to be a part of a loving family, sharing our love for Jesus Christ. We all laughed at my niece that is terrified of Santa. Any mention of his name brought her to tears while her parents reassured her that Santa would not come to their house. If this keeps up their holiday leverage will be "if you're naughty Santa is going to come." She's two so she may outgrow her Santaphobia. The kids will likely be hopped on sugar and excitement tomorrow so there will be more tears to come but that's what makes family gatherings so entertaining.

I hope all of you have a very Merry Christmas day. Thank you for the friendship and readership over the past year.

nice name

On Monday I opened my inbox to see that I had written myself an email. I thought it was strange because I didn't remember sending an email entitled "this is random." Thinking it was spam, I was about to delete it when curiosity got the best of me. I opened it up to discover that my name twin had googled herself and came across an old post of mine. Now, if my name was something common like Jenn Smith I might not find this so odd. Although my last name is fairly common, I have yet to meet another Aislinn. In our several emails we have discovered that we were born in the same year but that her name is pronounced phonetically while mine is the Gaelic pronunciation (Ashlyn). A very random but amusing experience.

my new friend

That's right. CLR is my new favourite bathroom cleaner. After burning my lungs several times using Lysol Bathroom Cleaner with Bleach, I decided to try something different. My former roommate left the glass shower doors with terrible watermarks and a dingy ring around the tub. I first bought the wretched Lysol cleaner as it professed to rid my bathroom of mildew and other stains. It helped a little but my health would quickly deteriorate after its use. I remembered the CLR ads of my youth, stating it was sold in fine establishments such as Canadian Tire, K-Mart, etc etc. The commercials showed it dissolving tough coffee stains and working miracles on hard water residue. On Saturday I experienced its amazing power. I could finally see through the glass, my sinks were sparkling and I didn't have four hours of pain and smoker's cough. This new bond is going to be tough to break. I still wish I could pay someone to clean my bathroom but until then, this $4 gem is my newest ticket to happiness.

oops

I went out my garage for my run on Saturday. Afterward I was stretching on my lawn when I noticed this:


Apparently my roommate got home at 3 a.m. the night before and must have been really exhausted, as the keys sat in that place for the next seven hours. It sure was fun to tease her.

dating s.o.s

I found this charming street sign while my sister and I were lost in San Francisco. If only life was full of S.O.S's for those in need of help, such as the sad chap in the following story. I find this amusing because I was not the person on the receiving end, although I dearly love the poor lass that was.

It all started Wednesday night when she received a call from a gentleman at her church. She did not answer the phone as it was an unidentified number. After listening to the message we were impressed that he called several days before the date, left her a compliment and had it all planned out. Several ingredients for a good time. The first warning sign was an anxious text the next day asking if she had received the message. This was brushed off as perhaps a little overeager. Friday was when the storm hit. This was not some regular ocean storm, it was a full on tsunami.

The first indication that the clouds had started to darken was when he stated to her "I've been wanting to ask you out for weeks because you're so damn sexy but I was never able to because you were out of church like lightning every time." Rain poured down with phrases such as "You are so sexy, do you know how sexy you are?", "I am with, by far, the prettiest girl here", "I LOVE the way you dress, it's so hot", " You have a rockin stomach and your body is perfect." While this is all true, I would like to restate that this was a first date with only a very brief conversation prior to the big event.

She was being engulfed with large waves with more and more questions, namely: So how is your romantic/dating life? How do you handle being so sexy? When did you last have a romantic encounter? So what was your first impression of me?

And then the tsunami hit. To quote her "He kept touching me ... we went to a concert... it was a sit down event... he quickly had his arm around me and tickled/scratched my back... I sat in a balled up position most of the show. Then also at dinner... arm around... and then the comments... "I'm sorry I keep touching you, I just can't help myself, you're so hot." Fast forward to the door scene... he had already pecked me on the cheek randomly when I was standing up at some point in the night... I was a little worried at the door as he had admitted earlier "I don't usually go more then three weeks without kissing a girl, although I've only once ever had a 'hookup.' So he walked me to the door, and I was carrying my bag and leftovers, so I went to give him an awkward hug, and his face came in... so mine went out, to the outside of his arm... and then quickly turned around and went in."

The storm was over but there were residual waves afterward. Several texts about how gorgeous and sexy she was with hopes of a second date. Although you would think it was my friend that needed the life raft on the date, it was this sad sack of a man that needed the help. Not only is it unattractive to be called sexy and to have unsolicited touching on a first date, it's actually offensive. So for those of you creating such storms, please keep them in the middle of the ocean where no one is impacted by your destructive sexual frustrations.

directions smcherections

Last week I got home from spin class, showered, got ready for work and took my multivitamin. I was almost out the door when I was sidelined by nausea. After expelling all my stomach contents (Powerade and vitamins) into the toilet I felt much better. I ate oatmeal in the car and headed to work. I attributed the sickness to my spin class but yesterday I took my vitamin again while getting ready. I started to feel ill and quickly stuffed my face with a fruit bar, hopeful it wouldn't end up in the loo. I went over to my cupboard and read the label "take one pill with food." I've never thought medication or vitamin directions were really necessary but now I'm starting to rethink that. The most twisted aspect to this is that I am tempted to take the vitamin again on an empty stomach just to see if it really is inducing nausea. It's like when I touch a bruise over and over again because maybe the 10th time I touch it the pain will go away. Am I alone here?

crashing a holiday

I explained to many friends, acquaintances and students that Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving in October and yet I still took two days off to sneak one more turkey dinner in before Christmas. The hospitable folks in Vernal offered their home and food yet again. It was a fabulous meal and great company. Unlike a Kelly gathering, the holiday dinner went off without any drama. If only Mike had remembered the potatoes our October feast may have run a little smoother!

Rather than watching horse surgery, we rode them instead. By we, I mean just Kris and I. We had expected the more experienced horse riders to be our guides but they trusted us or trusted that our chances for death were slim. The worst would likely be serious injury. We did just fine and came home to watch BYU take the game away from the U at the very last second. Only two explanations can answer why they won the game. It was either due to me wearing my Y sweater or divine intervention from God. I think it was the sweater. A little more secular action was in store when we headed in to town for the evening entertainment. I was too cold to get out of the car to capture a picture of the six float Christmas parade with Santa and Mrs. Claus as the piece de resistance. I was disappointed that the high school marching band did not make an appearance as the two Vernalites that stayed home were parade band alumni.

Dinner for the evening was toasties which is a sandwich cooked in a fire using one of these. (I had no clue how to search for these but my mad google skills led me to the link). I managed to make mine perfect but struggled when making one for Kris. I forget the second slice of bread which was only discovered after it came out of the fire. I almost repeated the mistake on the redo until a kind soul took pity on me and pointed to the lonesome piece of bread waiting to be included. Another kind soul offered me this diagram after the almost twice repeated fiasco. I managed to do several other foolish things over the course of the weekend that will provide endless teasing on par with my human milk statement on my very first Vernal appearance. Hey, I'm willing to entertain in any form.

Although I'm not American, I'm still willing to give a little thanks. And this year, I'm thankful for good friends, loving family, and laughter.

you take the good, you take the bad

Here's the facts of my life over the last week:

Exhibit A:


San Francisco with my sister was a delight. The car we had to drive was not. While I realize that some may actually like PT Cruisers, and like my co-worker, actually request one to rent, my sister and I were mortified. Not only are they hideous, but they are also the most functionally stupid car I've been in.

Exhibit B:


Seeing Bishop Allen on Thursday night, in Provo of all places, was superb. It felt so good to see a live show while I sang and danced my cares away. The downside was a short set as they did not headline the show. The girl is no longer in the band which was a downer on Busted Heart.

As Bishop Allen says "things are what you make of them" and I guess I'll take the bad because it can also come with a lot of good. We'll see what I make of my blog. I have been contemplating a hiatus for various reasons. Thank you to those that keep on coming back even with dwindling posts. I plan to get off the fence soon.

these are the days

Have you ever had one of those days?

You know the kind... the power goes out at 7:30 a.m. right in the middle of getting ready for work. Mascara is applied in the dark and your hair has to be pulled back to try and pull off a semi-professional look. Realizing that the garage will not open automatically due to the electricity outage, you yank it open with all your force. Then your day worsens when the co-worker problem is only exacerbated by terrible mishandling of a third party and for fear of getting dooced you choose not to write any specifics on your blog. You come home feeling tired and hungry. You decide that it is finally time to cook a proper meal. However, you cupboard lacks enough ingredients to make anything substantial. While deciding what to do with the situation you purchase some music online that is sure to make you cry so you hold off on actually listening to it. The decision is made to cook so it is off to the grocery store. You think your luck is shifting when you hop in to the shortest line... until you realize that the two customers in front of you have food stamps. You end up waiting longer than any other line. You come home and decide that tonight would be a good night to christen your Pampered Chef food chopper thingy. You manage to use it improperly and watch helplessly as green peppers fly all over the kitchen. Despite the warning of sharp blades, you cut your finger pretty nicely on them during clean up. You would rather just vegetate in front of the television but you have nagging feelings of guilt for neglecting your blog. Rather than wait until you might be able to pull of a mildly entertaining post, you indulge yourself and write about the crap of a day you had.

If you have ever had a day like that, I can empathize.

ridiculously useless information on ears

I have recently been fascinated with the huge variety of ears out there. I realize that ears are just as unique as any other body part, like hands, eyes and noses but I haven't spent much time examining them. My study of the ear grew out of an uncomfortable work experience, namely "unsolicited flirting by a co-worker." When another co-worker asked why I didn't reciprocate, my response was that his ears were too small for any conceivable attraction on my part. Ears are not something I typically notice but his seemed abnormally tiny. At church this past Sunday my eyes feasted on the enormous variety of ears. Things I learned:
1. Girls can also have exceptionally small ears.
2. Some ears are very large.
3. Some ears protrude to an uncomfortable level
4. Lobes can come in all sorts of shapes. There are those folks with creases or misshapened lobes. Some lobes attach right to the head. (Apparently attached earlobes are a recessive trait... things learned on google image search).
5. Hair on ears are often blonde.
6. The more you look at ears, the more ugly they become

happy halloween

spam, spam, bacon and spam

Over the last two weeks the most action my Gmail account has seen is spam. Each day I receive several variations of the word Viagra. Some days it's Viapra or Vdarga or Vigria. The combinations never stop nor does the spam. I'm not quite sure how I got the spam or when it will stop. It even started going to my work email which has become quite a nuisance. It's driving me crazy.

To see someone else who HATES spam, click on the link in the title. Blessed Monty Python. As a side note, one year my siblings and I listened to the Final Rip repeatedly on a family holiday. I think I had each sketch memorized and my parents likely had to take multiple meds to keep from going insane. We also listened to some other comedy tape that my brother had. All I remember is a song that said "boot to the head, na na... boot to the head na na... boot to the head, na na. BOOT TO THE HEAD." If anyone knows that reference I'd like to look it up.

an honest mistake

I was loading my groceries in to my car when I noticed I had forgotten the laundry detergent that was on the bottom of my cart. I had a momentary thought of driving off with free ALL but my lil' angel spoke louder than my lil' devil so I drudged back in to Target to pay up. I was standing in line feeling utterly exhausted from my day when I noticed the woman in front of me had a twelve pack of Mountain Dew at the bottom of her cart. She paid her $34 bill all in one dollar bills which gave me ample time to ask her if she had forgotten the Dew. Although a very interesting self commentary was going off in my head, I had no mental energy or desire to speak audibly to her. As I was driving off I noticed her walking back in to Target with the pop in hand. I felt slightly guilty for speaking up in the store but was also mildly amused that we had a twin experience. Both space cadets and both honest. If you're feeling devious there's a good chance you can make off with free goodies at Target by using the bottom of your cart.

fabulous fall

Reasons to love all the Seasons (but mostly fall).

1. Gorgeous sunsets


2. Hikes to capture the views


3. Leaves, leaves and Jo


4. Walks in the brisk air


Breathe in deep and smile...

la la la love

I've always pondered how one gets to the point that they really know that the person they are with is the person they want to marry. I have had thoughts of marriage in prior relationships but it was always coupled with an equal or greater amount of doubt. People can explain the process but it cannot be fully comprehended until you are experiencing it yourself. No amount of studying or training can give you the vicarious feeling. I suppose this topic has been on my mind recently due to three wedding invites, as well as a good friend calling me this week to tell me he was engaged. What I found fascinating about our discussion was how ecstatic he was. I usually hear this from my girlfriends but it was a first to hear it from a guy friend. Their dating was easy, the decision was a no-brainer and he was excited... which got me excited. He still did not know how it all happened but that it did happen. (He didn't help much in the department of "figuring out how one takes the next step" but he's in love so he gets a pass.)

I know that people go in to marriage with all sorts of dating experiences. Some of the happiest marriages had rocky dating moments and some of the happiest dating led to a less than thrilling marriage. I heard the latter scenario many times when I did marital counseling. However, listening to my friend and seeing him when I was home made me hopeful for a future dating experience like his. It would seem much easier to enter marriage fully enamored and with a solid knowing. I'm done with wishy washy and conflicted feelings from the other. I want a man that knows what he wants... which is me. (If any of you have found this man, please have him contact me directly. Ha!) I find the thought of marriage frightening enough, so the last thing I want to do is spend months on end dating someone who is constantly unsure. Perhaps I'm unrealistic but while I'm still single I'm going to dream for my ideal.

So B, if you're reading this, congratulations and thanks for reminding me that it feels so good to feel mushy. It's easy to dream of adoration when the leaves are beautiful and the air is crisp. I hope to post some pictures soon that show why I love this season so much.

teaching moments at work

I'm all for lessons, and 15 minutes ago I learned my lesson on why you don't mess with candle wax at work. I have a candle warmer and there was a wax bubble developing in my candle. I have pushed the bubbles down before, as it allows me a better view of the melting wax. (It's my form of relaxation during my stressful days). Today was just another ordinary, bubble pushing down day UNTIL wax sprayed everywhere. Wax is on my desk, keyboard, paperwork, skirt, shirt and hair. No amount of washing or scraping will get the remnants off. So, I'm down to my undershirt and jacket as my blouse was the worst hit. What can I say... I'm a class act.

ungrateful

Today is Thanksgiving in Canada but since I'm not there, I thought I would post on what I am NOT thankful for.

1. My broken gas gauge. Loosing all power on the freeway was a bit of a scare but wasting three hours to get the problem sorted out was worse. At first it was thought that my fuel pump would need to be replaced but luckily it didn't. The silver lining was that my bill was cut down by at least 70% from the first estimate.
2. A bird perched on a woman's shoulder in public. It's nasty enough to dodge bird poop from the wild ones, but seeing a stream of bird crap on a woman's back because she is foolish/crazy enough to carry it about with her is grotesque. My sister and I have brain scars but no other permanent record as it was near impossible to take a discreet picture.
3. Cellular phone charges. I have had my current plan for almost a year and never come close to maxing out my minutes. Let me tell you that 40 cents for each additional minute over your plan adds up pretty damn fast. Thank you T-Mobile for not helping in the least bit about the situation. I'll be sure to switch to a more fair plan/company when my contract is up at the end of October.
4. Pull out hotel beds. I'm not sure who can sleep soundly when each roll creates a new pain from the metal bars digging in to every last inch of fat, bone and skin on your body. However, body aches are worth the sacrifice in order to spend several days with two adorable nieces.
5. Stinky feet. One of those previously mentioned adorable nieces has a new pair of shoes that leaves a not so adorable odour. Thankfully socks and soap can remedy the problem.

brief hiatus

I won't be blogging for a bit, as I will be on a journey to my home and native land. The time has come for me to renew my work visa and come Tuesday, I'll find out if I have been granted another year to work in the USA.

Something to ponder in my absence is ATM's in churches. Yesterday NPR reported that pastors etc have decided that since most people just carry cards, ATM's will make donations easier for their congregation. The idea is mildly offensive to me, although there is nothing to say it's wrong. I believe that if someone is really committed to the continuation of their church they will make an effort to remember their cheque book or bring some cash. What's next? Credit card machines in the pews? One easy swipe and your conscience is clean for another week.

Best song of the week: Your Ex-Lover is Dead by the Stars. The vocals and cello are beautiful.

shop till you drop

Want to change your hairstyle without cutting your hair? Do you have unexpected thinning of your hair? Well, look no further as Toni Bratten has teamed up with the Home Shopping Network to sell you this. I stumbled across these gems while flipping channels on my t.v. Unfortunately I can't remember how to block channels so QVC and HSN get several seconds of my time when I'm trying to find something to watch. Sometimes I stop for several minutes, fascinated at the junk that is being hawked. On top of that, the announcers are irritating, the guests are silly and the models look stiff. I enjoy the bright lights on the fake jewels that make them shimmer as though it's a solar eclipse. However, the part I find most interesting is watching the sale counter go up and up on the side of the screen. Several hundred people will drop a good chunk of change on something this awful. In what part of the country is this worth 200 bucks? If you want something this ugly, go to your local dollar store and pick it up for pocket change. Seriously, who buys this crap?

dominoes

When I was younger, I thought that the only thing you did with dominoes was something like the video below. Granted I never had the patience or talent that this guy has. It's unfortunate that the lighting made it difficult to see all of it. However, it's still amazing.

keeping tabs

Injury count for the week: Two (or three if counting bruised ego)

1) Bruised and cut knuckle from glass shower door slamming it at full speed.
Curse words emitted: Three out loud, multiple inside head

2) Cut from a serrated knife on fleshy part of thumb.
Curse words emitted: Partial word that was not completely uttered due to mix company.

Goal for next week: Zero

do you remember the time?

I remember when I was a kid the feverish excitement of an upcoming birthday. The party would be planned, invitations given out, cakes chosen and a list of desired items. This year I practically forgot my birthday. My supervisor made an announcement in group supervision last week that two of the therapists had birthdays coming up and I had a brief wondering who they were. Thankfully my mouth didn't get ahead of my mind as I silently realized I was one of the lucky fools.

I entered my birthday weekend like any other. Since my birthday fell on a Sunday, I chose Saturday to be my token celebration. With much "excitement" I got up early to do some cardio and then yoga (ahem David). As I entered the garage, I discovered that my car also wanted to cash in on birthday gifts. Rather than politely asking for something, it passively aggressively made it clear by getting a flat tire. My workout was out the window and I headed off to Costco with my spare tire proving its worth. Several hundred dollars later my car got two sweet tires and drove happily away. Mother nature was the party pooper and showered rain/hail/snow so anything outdoor was out... such as hiking or the Indian festival at the Krishna temple. I thought I deserved to get myself a gift so I returned to Costco to buy myself a digital camera. In August I purchased myself a gift in Chicago but the realization that it was over a month ago gave me permission to call that a souvenir rather than a birthday present. Please note that my camera beautifully captures my purse that I designed myself. Well, I chose the fabrics which was so much fun.


Saturday ended with some good Thai food and an all-girl slumber party (that ended before midnight because we're "past our prime.") My friends got me some great gifts... a certificate to REI, an exercise ball and a painted picture from my uber-talented artsy friend. Also my family sang numerous versions of happy birthday, gave cookies, cash and a book. My birthday was like most other days except that I got to hear from close family and friends all in one day. The difference today is that I have to make a mental note that I am now 29. I don't miss the excitement of birthdays of yesteryear. I like the laid back style and the happiness I feel from the all the calls and cards. Thank you to those of you that made my day feel a little more special.

words, words, words

My friend finds one of my common phrases amusing. It's "good job" with something else... like "good job that board didn't hit you in the head." I never thought twice about it until she would laugh and mimic me. Recently when I was visiting my parents I heard my mom say "good job blah blah blah" and I realized it was either a family phrase or something that Canadians say.

I've noticed that people's word usage can either be endearing or aggravating. My tolerance is often dependent on my level of like or disdain. For instance, one of my less favourite co-worker's has a habit of using "deserve" in strange ways. She was talking with one of my clients and kept saying that he deserved to work towards attending an NA group. It seemed off to me, on top of her saying the word a half dozen times in five minutes. Then today I overheard her talking to another co-worker about applying for a part-time job. She said "I deserve to at least drop of an application." Say what? I'm beginning to question myself if it's just me or she is using it wrong. It's a good job that I don't have to be the word police. All I know for sure is that when she does say it, I cringe inside.

So phrases... what ones do you love, hate or are simply confusing?

the problem with forgetting

My friend gets ready for work at the gym pretty much every morning. Recently she was getting ready when a stranger asked to use her deodorant. She was taken off guard and said yes but later was really grossed out by it. I too found it rather odd. That's one of those moments when you suck up the four bucks and go buy yourself some rather than swiping your pit on to a random person's hygienic product. If it was your friend or family, perhaps the communal sharing would be okay.

Friday we did a spin class at a gym closer to work, so I opted to get ready at the gym. I did a mental checklist of what I would need and was quite proud of how quickly I packed. As I got my towel to shower I realized I had forgotten my shower sandals. I was completely skeeved out as I stood in the shower barefoot. Thankfully I have not seen any strange growths on my feet since. Then as I was getting ready I shuddered when I realized that I had not packed one of the most essential pieces to a woman's wardrobe. I put my sweaty grey sports bra back on and was grateful it did not show through my shirt. I was not too happy with the uni-boob look but a bra isn't something I can quickly run in to target to buy. Why couldn't I have just forgot my deodorant???

only the best

I've often wondered about the criteria used for places to claim they are the "best." There is a dive down my street that states it is the best Chinese food in town. There are plenty of great Mexican establishments but Chinese food is not this town's forte. So anything claiming to be the best Chinese food is something to be wary of. I had first thought it was the best merely because it was the only, however I found a half dozen other Chinese restaurants listed in my area. The last time I went to a restaurant that claimed to be the "best" was an Indian place in San Diego. After listening to the same techno song looped over and over, I decided that the food could be incredible (which it wasn't) and I still would have wished I was somewhere else. I asked the server if he found the music annoying but he said he didn't really listen to it anymore. Perhaps that is how workers at Gap et al feel with their repeated CDs. Workers may develop an ability to block it out but as a diner, I found it impossible.

So my little neighbourhood Chinese food may indeed be the "best Chinese food in town" but I'm not going to risk finding out.

beauty marks

I remember a friend telling me she loved her scars because it made her feel tough. My most recent scar makes me feel anything but. The morning I burned my forearm on my iron I was reminded of how clumsy I truly am. Actually, I think most of my scars showcase my gawkiness.

There are the knee and opposite elbow scars from my rollerblading fiasco. A little bit of advice for fellow bladers is to roll right over a snake on a path. Trying to avoid it only ends in a tangle of arms, legs, blades and gravel. After a stranger looks you in the eye to ensure you don't have a concussion, you get the pleasure of rollerblading to the car with blood dripping wounds. Living through the cleaning and healing process made me feel tough but the fall reminded me of my awkwardness.

While working at a flower shop I cut my knuckle with scissors. I received only three stitches but the bigger scar was the humiliation of freaking out in front of the customers as my blood dripped on to their pussy willows. I'm still confused as to how my knuckle got in the way.

The oldest scar that I can remember is the one I obtained at a girl's camp over 14 years ago. It was the worst camp ever as it rained non-stop. I think I kept my rain gear on from sunrise to sunset. The tents kept getting flooded and the weather didn't allow for much except whittling. The camp nurse felt very uncomfortable that we all had pocket knives. My 14 year old mind thought she was crazy as what could possibly happen with a measly Swiss army knife and wood? I found the answer during our first aid training. We were asked to put our knives away and I happened to put mine away on my thumb. I looked down at the deep gash and knew it wasn't something I could solve on my own. As the shock set in, my voice rose in panic. When the nurse figured out what was going on, she decided my real life wound would make a great demonstration. She set me in the middle of the circle and began to explain that deep cuts need pressure and elevation. After yelling at her to get me out of there, I was taken to a van, given butterfly stitches and a blanket to help with my shock. Several days later a chunk of skin fell off with a permanent reminder of my idiocy.

I have come to understand that many of people have scars due to unfortunate incidents, surgeries or sheer toughness. If only I could be so lucky... or careful.

adjectives

Occasionally I stop on cooking channels to drool over good food that I'll never make. I did attempt a chile chocolate soup from the Take Home Chef but using dried jalapenos instead of chiles was a bit of a spicy disaster. Perhaps one day my curiosity will get the best of me and I'll try it again, with the correct ingredients.

The difficulty I have with these shows is the use of gorgeous or beautiful to describe food. While I understand that "gorgeous" can imply magnificence, it's not a term I would use for my food. I might say "this tastes magnificent" but to say "this is gorgeous" sounds peculiar. It's as though the basic adjectives of our youth are no longer mature enough for our food. I still remember the stress involved in language art worksheets. Teacher's tortured us with writing down adjectives and adverbs. Was red an adjective when saying "a red car" and what the heck is an adverb again? I know it describes a verb but I can't even remember what a verb is. It's an action word... think action, think describing it... This is triggering grade school flashbacks so I must retreat from these horrific memories and go back to my present focus.

Why do culinary cuisines require such words? Kraft wouldn't even dare use beautiful to describe their cheesy masterpiece. Why then do cooking shows have to show off by refusing to use "spicy, yummy, or tasty" when referring to their dish that contains ingredients that regular supermarkets wouldn't carry. Thereby making it impossible or frustrating to attempt their divine creations.

Is it just me or are there pretentious adjectives floating around that also irk you?

when the moron is you...

We've all heard those stories that are much more amusing because they didn't happen to you. Well, yesterday I became the star of one such story.

It all began at about 12:30 p.m. I had just finished a late lunch, due to my cardio/yoga Saturday morning ritual. I was waiting to hop in the shower, as my friend had told me she would stop by while walking her dog to bring me the money she owed me from the Death Cab for Cutie concert. By the way, the put on a great show, as did Mates of State. The doorbell rang and we sat on my porch chatting away when a nasty wasp kept buzzing around me and the door. To avoid it entering my house, I shut the door. We chatted some more and then said our goodbyes. I turned to enter my house only to gasp in horror. I had locked myself out with my phone inside. The invention of cellular phones has created the inability for me to memorize phone numbers. With no way of knowing when my roommate would be home, and no way of breaking in, I resigned myself to finish walking with my friend and her dog. I went over to her house still in my sweaty work out clothes with a sunburn beginning to develop on my pale-ass shoulders and chest. I used her phone to call the only friend whose number I have memorized. After leaving several messages on both her and her husband's cell phone, I waited patiently. I walked back to my house to leave a note written on bright paper for my roommate. Upon my return to my friend's house, I was greeted with the news that my other friends were en route to break in. Apparently my friend's husband has a knack for that sort of thing, although he is an upstanding member of society.

I sat on my friend's porch and snoozed in the sun. They arrived much later than they had originally anticipated, drove me to my house, and within seconds (with the help of a Discover credit card), we were inside. Considering I have about three friends in Provo, no way to contact my roommate or landlord, and just the clothes on my back, a two and half hour wait to get in my house was pretty darn good. The moral of this story is that wasps not only sting, they can also make you lock your silly self out!

in the eye of the beholder

I had the privilege of going to the Art institute of Chicago and was awed by some of the beautiful pieces.

But then I saw this (my apologies for the quality):


and then this:


Although I am not a fan of most abstract art, there are times when I can see and appreciate the talent. However, I look at these pieces and believe that there are plenty of people who could replicate it. I am willing to admit that I do not have a full understanding of how and why some art makes it in to museums while others do not. Is there some talent that I cannot see? Do these "abstract" pieces make it in because the artist already has a good reputation in the art field? Please, someone, anyone, help me figure this out. *Sigh

Even though I don't like this either, it looks like it took some thought and talent.

Why, oh why, does abstract art continue to mock my confused mind?

hot or not

There was a time when my favourite "love to hate" heiress thought she should try her hand at a Donald by attempting to patent "that's hot". Thankfully, it was rejected, thereby saving us from the heaps of junk at Claire's Accessories proclaiming "that's hot."

You may wonder where this Paris diatribe is headed and I assure my readers that I am not as directionless as her. That may be a cruel jab, as she does take a lot of time to match her outfits, spends time in the studio recording and filming videos, and almost writes her own novel, but I stand by my statement. Okay, back to the point... sizzling under the summer sun, my thoughts are frequently turned to what is hot and what is not. Much like this very awkward website, it is clear that each person has a very different opinion of what is or isn't hot.

My loyal readers, I turn to you for the first of perhaps many polls. Only time will tell if it becomes a feature. The virgin Right of Way poll is related to transportation, not Ms. Hilton:

Women riding motorcycles: Hot or Not?
Men riding scooters: Hot or Not?

P.S. - If you still have a hankering for links after my prolific use of them in this post, check this site out. I stumbled upon it randomly and found it a more amusing take on internet polling.

via chicago

When embarking on a solo trip to Chicago you might want to have a few things to make the trip smoother.

1. Toothpaste: Fortunately for you careless packers (ahem), the Marriott hotel gives you complementary toothpaste.
2. Money: Parking in the downtown core is expensive. Do some investigating and you'll discover that there is underground parking that is half the price of all other places. Unfortunately, I found this bit of information on my last day. Also, unexpected toll booths pop up and it's rather embarrassing when you don't have cash on you. There is also a need for spending cash at the awesome stores.
3. Patience: When you're a driver, the pedestrians drive you crazy with their constant jaywalking and crossing against the light. However, once rolls are reversed, you join in the bad walking behavior.
4. Sense of Direction: When you finish watching the amusing musical, Wicked, you might want to ensure you go the right direction down Michigan Avenue. It doesn't feel like such a magnificent mile when your error is discovered and it is so busy on the streets that hailing a taxi is near impossible. MOM CLOSE YOUR EYES. She told me to be safe and I don't want her to know I was walking alone at 11 p.m. MOM YOU CAN OPEN YOUR EYES AGAIN. Interestingly enough, there were so many people out that I felt totally safe... the only problem was sore and tired feet from the extra mile I ended up walking.

Oh, and don't forget to get a chocolate molten lava cake at the Grand Lux Cafe. Delicious.

against all odds

Population of Provo: 105, 166
Population of Provo between the ages of 25-34: 17, 345
Popularity of Cafe Rio: High
Odds of running in to an ex-boyfriend at Cafe Rio in Provo: In my friend's case, the odds are 100% that you will.

This wasn't any ex. He was a class act... one of those guys that starts dating another girl before he breaks up with his current one. She discovered this bit of information when she happened to go to a large church function that had thousands of people and coincidentally bumped in to him while he was holding his new girlfriend's hand trying to navigate her through the crowd. Naturally their breakup occurred that same night. See? Class act. Back to the present when we see him come in to Cafe Rio. He walks past us to a woman that is separated by one other person in front of us. The woman was the girl from the night long ago and she is now his wife and they have a baby. Although my friend is now much relieved for the demise of the relationship, we mull over leaving but decide the one person buffer may help avoid an awkward interaction. Within several minutes, our buffer exits and we are right beside them. At this point the best way forward is to talk to him but he makes enormous amounts of effort to pretend he does not see her standing mere inches away from him. The solution? She stares weirdly until he looks over. What proceeds is a fake nice conversation by all and the pretend "Oh I didn't see you. How are you doing? It's so good to see you." A perfect moment to laugh over during a perfect meal.

Ah Provo, your odds endlessly entertain me.

platform blues

I would like to start this post by stating that I do not always have the perfect shoes for each of my work outfits. I have been searching all summer for dark brown, open toe shoes that fit my annoyingly narrow feet. So, occasionally I have to wear a tan colour shoe that doesn't always work with my brown slacks.

However, the other day I saw a co-worker in cute black slacks with white platform flip flops. I hate platform flip flops and I also hate dirty white platform flip flops. The next day I saw her in a black skirt, black shirt and the dirty white platform flip flops. The platform sandal rarely looks good on anyone. It makes your calves look bigger and you're not fooling anyone with those extra inches. If you want height, go for cute heels. Also, the flip flop should be reserved for casual wear not work. Lastly, it's just not fashionable to wear white shoes with an all black ensemble. Red heels? Sure. White embellishments on your shirt or pant with white shoes? Possible. But the white platform flip flop rarely works with anything and just looks silly. (As a side note, the picture above was featured on a site for bridal shoes. If I ever see something resembling that on a bride, I'll shudder.)

family tree

I wasn't sure I wanted to write this post as I've struggled to articulate my experience back home. I have been back in Utah for 24 hours and actually made it through work on little sleep.

I loved being home with my family and seeing the new additions. I didn't do much of anything except laugh at all the funny things that my nieces and nephews said/did. Calgary has changed so much since I left. It's only been nine months but housing prices have skyrocketed and traffic seems to be worse. I was glad that I rarely ventured further than the south bubble of the city. It was no longer the city I always thought so fondly of.

I feel like a hobo (sans the penniless). Provo doesn't feel like home but neither does Calgary. My family is where my heart is but it could be in any city and that is all that would matter. The vacation gave me time for much introspection. Time moves forward and people move on. We get busy with the day to day aspects of life and things that seemed to matter so much before can seem trivial months later. Sometimes timing is everything...

somewhere over the rainbow

I have noticed a disturbing trend in my closet... a substantial amount of stretch t's from the GAP. It started out innocently enough. I would see a cute colour for a reasonable price and pick it up. I added the light pink t-shirt last week when it was on sale for $4. It was a killer deal for a good quality, basic shirt. However, now that I own almost every colour, I feel rather silly. Am I losing my style? Have I become a boring dresser? Am I too cheap to care? Am I the only one that has fallen prey to the multiple clothing item in different shades?

At least I know my style at work is holding strong. A new coworker commented that I am the best dressed female at work. He also noted that he knew I would be cool because of my glasses. As a side note, he also said he could tell the kind of music I listened to because of my eyewear. I don't necessarily buy in to judgments of personality or tastes based on accessories but I'll take compliments where I can get them.

As for the blog, it will likely be on a brief hiatus while I refill my family tank in Calgary. Perhaps this holiday will bring back some of my creativity that has been sorely lacking.

a movie script ending

Was it Star Wars that first brought us the idea that movies could also double as Hallowe'en? Although not socially acceptable, I tolerated the Luke's, Leia's and Vader's at the theatre. Afterall, they were the more awkward folks of society so entranced by the trilogy that they could not help dressing as their fictional favourites.

However, over the years I have started to notice a disturbing trend in movie watchers. Harry Potter openings were full of wizard and witches floating about the popcorn stand. It was usually limited to younger kids, so I shrugged it off. Then a few weeks back I was waiting for friends to arrive at the movies when I saw a few people walk up in capes and masks. I was confused as to why these wrestlers were walking in to the theatre when it dawned on me that Nacho Libre was opening up. This horror was soon forgotten until Friday night. I was at the movies with free tickets to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean (long and overrated) when I was suddenly surrounded by pirates.

I still cannot understand this dressing up business. Rather than free candy, you pay exorbitant amounts of money for snacks. Sitting for several hours wearing hot robes or ridiculous attire is completely unappealing to me. So please, leave the costumes for that spooktacular time of year when you get to dress like a fool, beg for candy and smash pumpkins.

crazy

I was in Small Town, USA over the weekend where I learned something new at church. A woman was discussing various things that have been upsetting to her, one of which was an article she read in Snowflake, Arizona's local paper. I don't have the energy to find the article but this link or this one gives you the gist.

What? Does she seriously think that there is a secret movement to make one country in North America? I kept waiting for her to say it was a prank but then she talked about her pregnant friend diagnosed with cancer and that all of these things were weighing heavily on her... requiring her to pray to God for strength. It was all I could do to contain my laughter. This poor woman was all worried about Mexicans and Canadians combining with Americans to create one super country. I thought about spinning it in to a positive comment about us coming together as one people under God but decided I couldn't say it with a straight face. I'm just a stranger that sees the comedy not the tragedy in the article. Finding the links were especially amusing because any site that advertises Ann Coulter's new book is not one I'd spend too much emotional energy on.

What I need now is your stories of something so ridiculous but was strongly believed by someone else.

after the fireworks

Tonight fireworks blaze on each side of the darkened streets. As I drive the streets I see children up past their bedtime, faces aglow with the excitement. I'm mesmerized by the sight and sound of it all.

I hope these little ones keep this spine tingling feeling all their life. Remember those small moments when your family was happily gathered together. Never let your dreams dissolve in to the night sky. Your potential is as bright as the fireworks reaching upward.

ridiculous thoughts

Before I head out of town, I have a parting thought regarding pant buttons. The last two days I have worn pants that button on the opposite side from what I am used to. Yesterday I noticed something slightly awry. Today it was down right annoying. My hands are not used to moving that way and it almost made me want to drink less water. It did get me thinking about the merits button uniformity but I'm too lazy to start a campaign. I had always assumed that pants buttoned in the same direction but perhaps lefties are demanding equal treatment. I did hear sometime in my life, whether or not it is true, that men and women's dress jackets are buttoned on opposite sides from the other. I am too lazy and tired to actually google this factoid. If it is true, I wonder how they decided which side each gender received.

wayfaring strangers

As I listen to Johnny Cash sing the post title, I think of my roommates. We're literal strangers sharing the same space, a space I don't enjoy sharing. My flatmates are not that bad. They fair better than the one that rarely slept at home unless her boyfriend was also sleeping there. He had the audacity to leave the toilet seat up during his late night urinating. Jerk! I knew living with her would be a disaster when I saw our bathroom plastered in faux leopard print. I almost burst in to tears. There was also the roommate that didn't know how to clean and didn't seem to understand that dishes went in the dishwasher. She watched television non-stop on the first t.v. I ever purchased. One of my current roommates doesn't take out the trash, leaves crumbs on the counter, rarely unloads the dishwasher and has yet to clean the kitchen or vacuum but she's nice so I forgive her. My biggest problem is the air conditioner fights. I don't know who is doing it but there is a constant battle over the temperature. We don't talk about it but it's constantly changing. I finally managed to figure out how to set the program so I changed everything for good (unless one of them already knows how it works or decides to read the instructions). I even set it so it wouldn't start getting really cool until after midnight to avoid sneaky fingers making it warmer. Back me up people, who wants to sleep in a house that is 26 C (80 F)? They let it hover around that temperature all day. It's already 29-35 (85-95) degrees outside. I managed to get it much cooler in my house and was so excited for my first non-hot and non-sweaty sleep since summer began. About 5 a.m. I awoke, burning up, confused because it should have been at least 22 C (72 F) which is still fairly warm. I walked to the thermostat only to discover it had been turned off. Blast! Is their blood so thin that they don't feel the heat under their blankets? We're not 80 year old Floridians or Arizonians. Who likes that much heat? I'm losing the battle. I'm not sure how much talking will change the problem, as people have different hot and cold preferences This whole marriage and compromise idea becomes less and less appealing.

The difficulty I have is not wanting to spend the bulk of my paycheck on living, thus the need for roommates. However, my sharing threshold is reaching its maximum. The current solution is to move in with a friend that shares my same air conditioning ideals. Saldy this is several months down the road when summer is cooling off. I'm curious as to the biggest frustration others experience with inhabiting a house with someone else. Perhaps my problem is only minute in the scheme of things. I do envy those that live alone.

it's too late

Sometimes I am reminded that I am becoming more like my parents. The other day my doorbell rang at 10:00 p.m.. I went to open the door and there was a kid trying to sell something. The phrase "it's very late to be ringing my bell" sprang to my head but my mouth said "No thanks." What I found amusing is that the way I said it in my head is exactly how my mother would have said it out loud... her intonation, accent, pauses. I am assuming that down the road these phrases will no longer be running through my mind but will be out of my mouth.

I still can't figure out why a parent allowed their nine or ten year old child to ring houses so late at night. I used to get turned away at 8 p.m. on Hallowe'en. My folks barely tolerated sales people at our door past the same time. It was baffling. Less baffling is that as I've aged I'm more accepting and even appreciative of my genetic and socialized self. As a teenager I struggled so much to be an individual (only to be a conglomerate of my friends) that I tried to be "unKelly-like." I wasn't really fooling anyone. I'm very much a Kelly and can finally embrace that. Another benefit of aging.

all you can eat

Last night I discovered that I am doing my grocery shopping all wrong. I usually go on my own, straight after work and make little eye contact. Last night I shook things up and went on a brief shopping excursion with my friend. It was getting late so we stopped in at the local grocers closest to the BYU campus. We were so engrossed in our conversation regarding hair conditioner that we didn't notice two lurking males. While we were discussing the merits of 85% more shine, 65% more fullness or 70% more body, a tall young fellow told us that the 99 cent Suave was the way to go. After glancing at his red raspberry shampoo, I suggested he go with the more manly smell of "kiwi lime." I assured him it would change his life, as his short roommate looked on. He heeded my advice and after some friendly banter, Jo made her decision on conditioner and we moved on. A few minutes later we were perusing the sunblock options when a man came over to us and complimented me on my glasses. He stood there, awkwardly looking at sunscreen that he had no intention to buy but trying in vain to think of something else to say. Jo and I had more important things to take care of, such as me dancing and both laughing to wait for another question. We went off to pay and rehashed our eventful trip.

The conclusion to my evening was that shopping with a buddy, late at night, with singles milling about makes for some interesting experiences. Also, it never hurts to buy cute glasses. So, when you need a little boost and something to laugh about, heed this experience...

let's get physical

For a good portion of my life I was fairly allergic to exercising. I would go on the occasional hike, do some yoga, and every once in a while go for a jog. Then a time would come when I would be determined to get in shape. It would last maybe a month or two and then become dormant until the next flash of inspiration. Well, for the last four months I've stopped my sneezing and sniffling toward working out. I think that this time it may actually stick. I've discovered that there is nothing more exhilarating than running further than I ever have before or pushing my limit in spin class. Training for a half marathon has given me a goal I never thought plausible. Growing up asthmatic often put a damper on heavy exercise. Now I've gone from hating running to craving it. The benefits of exercise are clear, yet we often neglect the negatives.

Rolling out of bed at 5:30 to make it to spin class is less than thrilling. Stiff calves from running are a literal pain but the absolute worse part of exercise is the increase in laundry. I realize that most of the people in my life are busy doing laundry on a daily basis because they have kids. However, doing more than a couple of loads a week is a major annoyance to me. Daily workouts mean stinky clothes that demand my attention. They're also picky and need to be hung to dry. Someone should really invent workout clothes that can sustain multiple wearing before washing. It sounds gross but would be really convenient.

Let's hear them... pros and cons of exercise. Is it love/hate, just love or just hate?

traveler's song

I think it's pretty clear that I need to travel more. *Sigh




create your own visited country map

papa don't preach

Today is our family photographer's birthday. War often broke out during family photo sessions, like the time my brother pushed me over while swearing about something. I believe this was the same weekend his now wife was meeting us for the first time. It's a wonder she ever came back. Often one sibling or another would storm out, only to have to come back minutes later to paste on the fake smile. Even with this knowledge, our regular photographer often chose to test out new equipment on us. Several hours would be spent waiting for it to be figured out, only to get prints back that were less than stellar. I remember the blue backdrop he bought, the light reflector thing, new flashes, but all in all, my dad is a pretty good photographer. Now family photos only happen at weddings, so we don't have to worry about that for a long while. Family fighting is kept more to the little ones and the main goal now is just to have everyone in a shot with fewer than two people closing their eyes and only one crying kid.

Back to my dad... he has several roles in our family. He's the captain (but only when he's sailing), the photographer, the paper editor (when I was in school), the softy grandpa and the tease (only because I'm such an easy target). This got me thinking about the roles each of us play in our family. Some have more clearly defined roles, such as the peacemaker or agitator but I've noticed roles have changed in my family as we've all gotten older. All of my siblings also have the role of mother or father, along with daughter/son, wife/husband, brother/sister, aunt/uncle. It's got to be rather confusing! What is interesting is to see how roles change with the person. My dad was always a sweet softie with my mom but never mushy with us (although it does creep in with his grandkids). I also relate differently with each of my siblings. Relationships are interesting things.

I think I really like Sailor Dad, as the sea air makes all of us cheery and it's inspiring to see how much he's invested in this hobby. Side note: Sailor Dad wasn't so cheery during one trip when he had gout. I preferred to say he got "grouch." Editor dad was pretty handy too when I needed help with university applications and when introductory English papers had been badly procrastinated. Happy birthday dad, thanks for always giving me a hand.

By the way, I see my future favourite role as cool Auntie. I plan to hedge all the other Aunties out by spoiling my nieces and nephews rotten when I am a mega-rich therapist (but I think that's an oxymoron). What is your favourite role?

farmer chords

What happens to a city girl when she spends a weekend in the country? Well, a lot actually. I discovered that hours aren't wasted and that you get up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday to hike a massive American flag up to its proper place. Apparently you can't let the flag touch the ground so we all held on to it while it was hoisted up. I was a respectful Canadian and actually appreciated their patriotism.




This peak is right beside Kristina's parents amazing property.


Later in the afternoon, I was initiated in to true jeeping. When I wasn't scared silent, I screamed/giggled. I like to call it the sciggle. The climb to the top nearly put me over the edge but replaying the Titanic calmed my nerves.















The jeeps got to the top but the bigger concern of mine was getting them down. The drivers were fairly calm, don't you think?

I'm not quite sure how we made it down as my eyes were closed for most of it. I'd rather be surprised if we rolled.

Sunday was even more of an initiation to Vernal life. We hiked to some petroglyph's which ended in us wading through the river to get home in time for Sunday dinner. They were quite amazing. I don't look quite as amazing but rather than believe I'm not photogenic, I'll blame the photographer.
Later that night I was up close and personal during a horse surgery. See, I'm the kid whose parents actually paid people to let me ride their horses. I went to several horse camps... a city kid pretending to be country. So, keeping in line with the country initiation, the vets chose me to be the one to drip saline (I think) on the horse's stomach. Apparently it keeps it from drying out but I didn't want to ask too many questions, as their hands were literally full of guts. I think the ranchers knew the nervous looking gal in flip flops had no clue what she was doing. My true colours continued to show when we went to feed a calf. Dave was pouring store bought milk in to the bottle and I said "We're giving it human milk?" I was greeted with a pause then a "What kind of milk do we drink Aislinn?" Yeah, that would be cow milk. In my defense, I thought they would give the calf some special cow milk, not just the kind I can pick up at the local grocers. As an aside, it's kinda gross when a cow nibbles on your finger.

The last day I tried to be more country by helping Kristina's dad change the wheel lines. The biggest help we were was looking pretty for the camera. Then it was off to do some target shooting. I have never shot a handgun before and I was rather nervous. However, after I shot the lid off a bottle with a 9mm I felt rather cool. Some say luck, I say raw talent!

Kristina and I could easily be the next Charlie's Angels. I'm not sure who the third angel would be, because we're really angelic enough.




I was exhausted by the end of the weekend but enjoyed every minute of it. Being outside, away from all the noise is good for the soul. It was also refreshing to do something out of the ordinary, especially something that was so enjoyable. I appreciated how much work that lifestyle requires. I was sleeping in when I got up at 7 on the weekends.

Next goal: herd some cows!

missing

I should be sleeping but I'm not. I was needing some reminders of home, friends and family. While looking through all my pictures, I was drawn to this one.

My dad took this picture of two of his granddaughters, cousins, sweeties. I love this picture. As the sun is going down two little girls talk, laugh and play. Their unknown future stretches before them. Their conversation will soon be forgotten but the moment is captured forever.

Reminds me to live more in the moment, take time to play and love...

no, not now

I had thought that Tuesday would be a perfect day for my Memorial Day weekend recap but it's not. First of all, I don't have the pictures from Kristina's camera. They are needed to really showcase the events. Secondly, I had a day from hell at work so I don't have the mental energy to be my witty self (ha ha).

All I can say is that it was by far one of the best weekends I've had in quite some time (excluding mine and Lisa's camping trip in March). This city slicker realized how fun it can be to try on the country bumpkin routine. I will leave this post with some pictures from my Zion's trip with Lisa in March. It's only a couple months behind. Perhaps my memorial recap won't take near as long!

do you realize...

...that music is a lot like clothes? Well, at least that's the epiphany I had this morning. I heard that you should purge the clothes you haven't worn in over a year. Organizational "experts" say the likelihood of wearing that garment again is slim to none. It may be resurrected by someone that picked it up at the local thrift shop but it will likely never see daylight on your body again. And therein lies the catch... it's not "you will never wear it again, it's only "likely" that you won't. So you hold on to that top from the late 90s because maybe, just maybe it will be fashionable once more or you may fit in to that pair of jeans again. Let's face it, even though the 80s is making a shameful comeback those vintage heels and polkadot dress aren't quite the same as the reincarnations. You end up looking like a fashion victim rather than a fashionista. Several moves has helped me to become quite good at the closet purging. I wish the same could be said for the music vomiting.

I keep my old cd's, I burn them on to iTunes and sometimes I even sneak them on to Vinny. I tell myself that even though a song has not reached my ears in several years, I will listen to it again and like it. Yet, when those songs play on my computer I quickly change it. I just don't dig them anymore. I justify keeping them for nostalgia reasons because sometimes when "I Saw the Sign" or "Red, Red Wine" comes on to the radio, I listen and think fondly of church dances (ironic that the Ub40 song was played at a youth church dance where strong beliefs against alcohol abound). The nostalgia is practically non-existent for my early twenties music. Yet, I just can't delete the songs. The music doesn't require a lot of disc space and you never know when you might need to get your groove on to Nick, Brian, AJ, Howie and Kevin (it was a gift that I thoroughly enjoyed at 21, so sue me). The reality is that it is like nails on a chalkboard now. Likely the music purge will have little long term effects on me. The songs will be dismissed as easily as my awful overalls that met their fate in 2001. And still my hand shakes and I falter as I attempt to hit "clear forever." I-just-can't-do-it.

bird's eye view

I remember a little poem my father taught me as a child

Little birdie in the sky, dropped a doo-doo in my eye. Me big girl, me don't cry, me just glad that cows don't fly.

Exiting the gym after my early morning workout last week, I saw not one, not two, not even three bird shats on my car. It was a machine gun hit from the front all the way to the rear of my car. My friends had parked on either side of me and their cars were sparkling clean. Grumbling and sweaty, I attempted to get the white turds off my windshield using my wiper blades only to discover I was out of washer fluid. Smeared crap blurred my view until I could successfully clean it off. I swear I get hit more because my car is silver. I have been unsuccessful finding proof but it never fails that it is my car. Stupid birds.

I'm a forgiving lass though. Yesterday I came to the rescue of a hummingbird stuck in my friend's window. We managed to get the little thing back in to the open air, free as only a bird can be.

touching you, touching me

Huggers and touchers and sweeties, oh my! I really, really like hugs but I really, really dislike hugging people I'm not close to. Take for instance the person you barely met that gives you a hug and then embraces you again when you leave. This person can be the same sex or the opposite sex. It doesn't matter, they hug without discretion. I currently have one of those in my life. She is really kind and she's Canadian, so I don't quite have the heart to tell her to back off the hugging.

Then there was a luncheon last week with a constant toucher. The chap may have been trying to get some of his physical needs met by constantly touching me but I didn't think it was near as entertaining as he. There are also those folks that find pushing you over or slamming in to your back amusing. Guess my co-worker missed the memo. Note to all employees: Non-reciprocal pushing and shoving is not appropriate in the workforce (nor outside of it). It is not entertaining and Aisy wants it to stop.

Tonight while shopping a nice clerk boosted my self-esteem by letting me know I was a sweetie. Although I don't think I've seen her before, we must be close because she called me hon several times. Well, sweeties, I'm off camping for a night for work, so hons, I'll check back later. Have a good night sweeties.

money

Today I made a cool five cents with minimal effort. All I had to do was drive back to the Mac store and return earbuds that were purchased 30 days earlier. I'm sure it didn't cover the gas but I'll take it. Apparently the sales tax on April 12 was five cents less than it was today. Go figure!

It's rather pathetic how much this made me smile but I am rarely graced with fortuitous events. My father has won a television and a stereo, yet the Calgary Stampede dream home still eludes him. The last time I can remember winning anything was a cake during the cake walk at my elementary school fair (along with half the school). I'm not quite sure why I still get that flutter of anticipation when tickets are being drawn. It's never my ticket, it's never my name and yet, I have that faint hope... only to feel the excitement drain out of my body. The winner smiles and his/her friend says "Man, you always win something." It seems to me that there are two kinds of people: prize winners and non-prize winners. There has to be a lucky gene just waiting to be coded by scientists.

The question is... are you feeling lucky?

the sounds of science

Ms. Kaz sent a link today about a truly unorthodox way to cure asthma and allergies. I had seen a show several years back using a similar technique (sans the feces) to help with several autoimmune disorders but hadn't heard much since. I'm still not sure how keen I would be to walk in human dung to rid myself of the lifelong pain I've experienced having asthma but I'm one of the lucky ones. I only had several bad bouts as a teenager that required two to three hours in the emergency room. My mother patiently waited, read, and snoozed through my treatments. Even then my asthma seemed mild to some of the young kids I would see getting treatments. Nothing was more tragic than seeing a young infant in an incubator with oxygen and ventolin flowing through it. As I got older, my asthma became more manageable and now I rarely require my ventolin. Sure there are those amusing moments when my wheezing is mistaken for a hissing cat but that is easily remedied with a few puffs of medicine. An asthmatic just learns to carry their ventolin at all times... just like keys.

This story touched a nerve for several reasons. My first job out of university was working with children diagnosed with autism. I saw numerous parents searching in vain for something, anything, that might help their child become "less autistic." You could see the hope with a new idea and the devastation when it didn't work. More recently I've been supporting my close friends as they've struggled to even figure out what the medical issue is so that they can find appropriate treatment. But the situation that hits straight to home is a health issue my family has struggled with for many years. It's not a life threatening disease but it has still been a long and painful journey, one that modern medicine has yet to be able to reverse. There has been a lot of traditional and non-traditional interventions and some tremendous sacrifices made to help the situation.

When I think of all these people, the common thread is that there is very little that they wouldn't try in hopes that it would help. As a society we've come such a long way as far as treating medical problems and yet, we still seem so far away. At what point do we give up and say we've done all that we can do? How far do we go to find that one cure? It's the realization that medicine will only get us so far, as we simply cannot control or fix everything. There will always be situations that seem unfair or senseless. Yet, life has an amazing ability to find balance. Just as there will be misery, there to will be joy. In the midst of the frustration and tears our family has felt over the illness, there is still laughter. I strongly believe it has created a deeper unity in our family and made us more appreciative of what we do have. Maybe we all need to have our own Cameroon experience... revel those moments when you walk in crap, as you might just find what you need.

this place is a prison

As I pulled in to my garage yesterday, a woman quickly jumped out of a van and asked to talk to me. She identified herself as a bounty hunter, showed me a wanted sign, and asked if I had seen the man in the picture. My response was "no", my thought was "why does she think I know him?" She asked me how well I knew the people living beside me or the cars they drove. I, of course, knew nothing about them. I just haven't gotten around to throwing that block party, let alone waving at neighbours. Ms. Bounty Hunter told me that my next-door neighbour is dating the man in question. Apparently I can receive a reward if I call in with any information. Maybe it's time for me to throw a party.

Guess this town isn't so sleepy after all!

drink to me, babe, then

If you don't want to drink to me, then drink to avocados. I've never been a fan of that greenish goo until recently. I still can't eat them plain but I've discovered the best way to eat a wrap that absolutely must have an avocado. This new fetish started out so innocently when I was in Moab. I ordered a vegetarian wrap and the woman forgot the avocado. It just didn't taste right and I was fixated on it all day. When Kris and I got home we promptly made our own. It was a wheat wrap with hummus (I recommend the red pepper hummus), bell peppers, mushrooms, spinach, tomatoes and the tour de force... avocados. I have made several since then and it never fails to please. The most recent edition featured havarti cheese. My mind is constantly drifting to different foods I can add avocados to. What I can't figure out is why I suddenly like them. They've always been high on my "do not eat" list, almost tied with olives. All I know is that I think about them A LOT. I also know I still HATE olives.

Someone said recently that our taste buds change every eight years. I think it's crap but I am curious to see if eight years down the road I'll start obsessing over olives. I'd just like an answer as to why our tastes change. However, I'm too focused on making another wrap to go research it.