Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Notes from files

No, I'm not allowed to tell you restricted things. But sometimes within the files there are things that aren't restricted that humour me (just as there are restricted things that grieve me), and given that I need a break I thought I'd mention one of them. Just so no one can say I never blog anything anymore.

One would think that the date of this would be 1950 or earlier...sadly, it's from a note about available jobs and who might fill them, dated 1966:
"...and as the job involves the washing of dishes and glasses, I would recommend that only a woman be hired for this position".

I'm not even sure who they're insulting most here, women, saying that it is beneath a man's dignity to do dishes, or men, saying they're too stupid to not break things if they have to wash up. And in 1966 for Pete's sake!

Wednesday, November 19, 2008


I listen to the CBC in the car. Sometimes in French with Radio Canada and sometime in English. I always feel a little bit let down when they make grammatical/pronuciation mistakes as though they should somehow be abouve such things. What I don't often get, though, is a line so hilarious - during serious news - that I either crash the car or serioulsy wonder if I'm losing my mind and/or hearing. Which is what I thought this morning. I mean really, did you ever think the day would come when you would hear a news anchor on cbc radio say "it is thought that they came from the pirate mother-ship"? Freakin awesome, folks, freakin awesome.

Monday, November 17, 2008

But not upside down.

Ah, Monday mornings. I don't mind them, actually. I tend to find Friday mornings harder - I've been at work all week and I just want to be at home. Mondays I'm rested and ready for the day.

Today, though, I was not as ready as I had thought. I got into the elevator with someone from the third floor who said- smiling, so I didn't have to hit him or anything - "rough morning?"

I asked what he meant (after a quick check in case I'd forgotten to put pants on, or shoes or something).

"Your sweater is on back to front. And....I think maybe inside out?"

Yeah, embarassing, but it was pretty funny. So I laughed, and so did he. Maybe not such a bad start after all; how bad a day can it be if you're laughing before you even get to your desk?

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Inter-species Yoga.

I read a friend’s blog about crying in front of pets. I don’t often cry, as it happens. I’d like to think it is because I have such steely sangfroid, but in reality I am a giant marshmallow of cry-babyishness. I get teary–eyed at commercials, if they’re good enough. I still get all verklempt at the MASH Christmas episode. The real reason I don’t cry mcuh is that crying is a migraine trigger, so I try not to. It’s never worth the pain. The thing is, if I do cry my puppies are totally different from hers in how they treat me.

First, they won’t let me alone, but in a kind and snuggly way. If I’m lying down they wiggle next to me and lay down with me, one on each side. If I’m sitting, they’ll lay on the floor pretty much on my feet if they can. And then, in a bit of dog-as-human action, the bigger one always rests one paw on a shoulder or, for reasons I can’t figure out, on my head. Which is weirdly human enough but the truly bizarre part is when if I pause and sigh or hiccup, they look at each other, and then at me and then back at each other. I don’t know if they just checking with each other that it is still just crying and not anything suicidal, or if they’re thinking I better stop soon so we can all play, but whichever it is it is unnerving coming from non-humans. Actually, I think having a human lay down next to me and rest a paw/hand on my head would also be unnerving. Regardless, there’s my “what the puppies do if I cry” bit.

Continuing in the same vein (the one that makes non-pet owners cringe, wondering why people keep insisting that their pets are human-like), after 40 minutes of yoga yesterday I decided to try a new pose. It has a name – which I’ve forgotten – but basically you lie on your back, and with your legs straight and together lift them up and over your head, behind you. They you stretch them up into the air, and pretty much balance on your shoulders. I figured I was as stretched as I’d ever be and it was time to give it a try. So I lay down on the floor which made both puppies look at me with interest. “Floor? Maybe she’s going to play something with us”. I managed (yes, I did) to get my legs over, and straight – didn’t even squeal in pain! – but at that point the big one, who was on the couch behind me, decided that clearly what I wanted was to have my feet licked. So she licked ‘em. I’m not ticklish but I was having balance problems as it was. Throwing in some foot licking threw core balance to the winds, and I started to teeter.

I guess the little one was worried that I’d fall, and that I needed help. So he jumped onto the mat and flopped down against my butt, bracing himself against me. Just to keep me safe. Which totally made me fall. Which made dog-on-the-couch decide that if there was going to be laughter and playing she had to join in. Instantly. So she jumped in. Literally. She jumped right off the couch over the coffee table and onto the yoga mat. In a single leap. And onto me. And onto the little dog. It then became a free for all tussle. The noise of which caused the boy working on the computer in the dining room to ask what was going on, as Yoga is normally a quiet occupation. Bar, of course, the occasional “are you KIDDING me?" comment, or the more common “if I HAD core muscles to help with the pose I’d be using them. Idiote (you have to say that in a totally condescending French accent to make it effective). I have occasionally given the screen the finger, when the coach is really bothering me, but neither child knows that. They already have plenty of therapist fodder thank you very much. I decided that the best – and only - answer was “Yoga is just louder if you do it with puppies. But it is better for you”.

Monday, November 03, 2008

Week One Day One

So, in order to accomodate homework time my girl and I have had to give up Curves in the afternoon. The problem, of course, is that Curves is not free, and I am not going to pay for something we don't do. There is an obvious solution, of course: go in the morning. Yes, that went over with the girl about as well as one would expect. But then life is not meant to be a bed of roses.

So today was week one day one of getting up at six and going to Curves in the pitch dark. We have planned two months of three mornings a week at the gym. I'll get back to you later on how well that is working out :)

Of course you see totally different people in the morning than you do in the afternoon. An alramingly large number of uber organized business women with a husband, 2.5 kids, a highly successful career, 2.5 cleaning ladies, personal life trainers and annual vacations in Hawaii. The kind one is sorely tempted to punch, just because well...just because.

There were also a lot of older retired ladies. What on earth are they doing in their genteel lives that they need to be up and working out at 6:10 in the morning?

The woman next to me was on her first visit (I could live any number of lives and I would never choose six am for my introduction to working out). When she got to the machine where you grasp a horizontal bar in front of you and work it up and down, she asked the woman helping her (staff, not a friend) how high you have to lift it, and how far down you push it. The answer? "Tits to Hips". There are some things one doesn't expect to hear before the sun is even up, and tits is one of them. Anytime thereafter, sure. On the plus side...the older you get, the easier that machine should be to use.

Merry and Tragical, Tedious and Brief!

So I decided to go and see A Midsummer Night’s Dream on the weekend. I kept passing by the advertising billboards (yeah, like there is a different kind of billboard. Singing billboards, coffee brewing/martini blending billboards) and thinking “I’d love to see that. Too bad there is no one to go with”.

Finally the smart half of my brain made my hand slap me to attention so it could say that I am perfectly able to go on my own. Even better, really, because getting a seat for one at such a late date is far easier than finding two together. And I’d be sitting with other ticket buyers anyway, right?

Yes, normally that would be right, but of course nothing ever goes according to plan. I did get an excellent seat: front row, seat five. So I figured I would be sitting with two happy-happy couples. May-b thought they’d be secretly unhappy; her because he never picks up his own sock,s and him because she took too long to get ready. L. thought it would be four gay guys. Which would be great, actually.

Turns out that the seats in the front are numbered from 1 to whatever in groups of four, around the theatre. Yes, for those of you that haven’t been the Globe is theatre in the round. So I had three seats with mine. Yippee, people to sit with!

I went in and got my seat and watched people come in. Slowly at first and then in bigger bunches as show time approached. The space was filling up. But…not the three seats next to me. Yes, you’ve got it right: despite being a sold out show, NO ONE showed up for the three seats next to me. When it became obvious that no one was going to be sitting there, they filled them with volunteers. Yup, that’s how wonderful I am, they need to get VOLUNTEERS to sit with me. Awesome.

Seriously, though, you know what was awesome? The play itself. Really well staged given the space they had to work with. Very few noticeable slip-ups, and while the costumes weren’t as dreamy as I would have liked they were still very good. I am very glad I went. I even looked pretty good, all things considered!