True Story

You know how sometimes there's no traffic on the roads and even though the light's against you and the little blinky "walk" man is going the other way and the "no-walking allowed" hand is out some people walk across the cross walk anyway?

Yeah, I'm so not one of those people.

I always, always wait for the walk signal.

Like, always.

Well Then

So who remembers the coffee date I went on that went nowhere? You know, the one that ended oddly? And then got me all riled up? And then he told me that he was actually starting a relationship with someone else?

Yeah, well, guess who emailed me yesterday wondering if I'd be interested in coffee #2?

And there's where my brain kind of explodes.

Where do I begin you guys? I ran through, quite possibly, the entire spectrum of emotions yesterday: triumphant, wary, flattered, giddy, angry, bitter, suspicious, hopeful, curious, happy, doubtful. . . you name it, I felt it, but I mainly settled on cautiously pleased.

I feel like I have to explain it carefully here, both for myself and for all of you who so wonderfully defended me and joined me in my hurt when he rejected me back in April. (And thank you again for that, it felt good to know I wasn't alone and getting a group hug from the internet helped cheer me up.) And as Ms B pointed out at the time, rejection sucks. Which it did and does.

There's a part of me that is glad to meet him again because it feels different this time. Like, because he's already turned me down (and we can argue that it was all timing, but really it was still a rejection) I almost don't care any more. The arrogant (and rarely practiced) part of me is thinking "well, he lost out and ain't going to get me this time either so there" and most of the rest of me is thinking "well, I guess if it doesn't work out this time it's no big deal because I've already seen a side of him I don't love and so he's not on a pedestal anymore" and then the tiny, little girly part of me thinks "Giggle. He still likes me! Giggle." And I just tell that part to hush up for now because we're cautious and not particularly trusting of this one.

Which again, may be a good thing.

See, I do have a tendency to go in to meeting a new guy with high hopes and open mind and heart and thinking that he *must* be the one because why else would the universe have thrown us together and he's probably practically perfect and look at all the wonderful things about him and aren't I just the luckiest girl in the world to be a potential girlfriend for him.

So it's going to be interesting going in to a coffee date with someone knowing that he's not. Not perfect. Not "the one". And that if anyone's lucky it's him to be hanging out with me again.

Oh, hello arrogant side, you're visiting again are you?

But am I maybe confused y'all? Yes.

Do I think we were all right in our initial reading of him as a not great guy for how he handled things? Possibly. I'm certainly keeping it in the back of my mind.

And that'll be interesting; to see how the date plays out. Because if I do feel an attraction, I'll want to tell him that it was lame how things went last time, but the little girl part of me thinks that doing that would make him not like me and man oh man I can't analyze it before hand or else the different parts of me all talk at once and I get stressed out and so it'll be interesting is all.

Because maybe there won't be an attraction. I remember we had good conversation, but was there an attraction? I don't remember, I got so thrown off by how the date ended.

I mean, do I want to fall in love? Yes. Do I think this guy is the one? No. Is this the first time I've gone into a date thinking this way? Yes. Could this be a good thing? Yes.

So I go into this cautious and wary, but also curious to see how it plays out.

I don't know, y'all, what do you think?

Achoo, Sniff, Cough, Repeat

Yo dudes and peeps and all.

I caught me a cold, or possibly just never fully got rid of the cold from earlier this month and then stressed myself back into it or something. But thank goodness for the weekend and not having to work for two whole glorious days because I think I've napped and slept a lot of it away.

I'm sure I had much more interesting things to say but at the moment I can't imagine what on earth they were or why they were interesting or how, exactly one forms a complete, coherent sentence so unfortunately, all you get is this rather whiny post.

Buuuuuut, there's only five more days til the weekend, right? Right!

How's you?

Anyone Want Some Mayo?

There is a really weird thing going on with me and 2010.

I can't seem to keep it in my mind that we're IN the year 2010 and I seem to keep on thinking that 2010 was last year.

Case in point: I found a jar of mayo in my fridge and glanced at the expiry date. "Dec 2010" it read.

"Awww nuts," I thought "I must have bought this a while ago and forgot. I can't believe I've had it in my fridge expired since December."

And I took it out of the fridge and was just about to wash it out for recycling when something in my brain went "WAIT!"

So I paused and left it in the fridge, reminding myself to buy some more at the store.

Which I did.

And when I glanced at the one I'd just bought in the store it said "Dec 2010" and I thought "Man! What kind of lousy luck am I having with constantly buying expired. . . . hey, wait a second. . ."

Yes, my friends. December of this year hasn't happened yet.

Just in case you were wondering.

It's really bizarre.

Also, not the first time it's happened this year.

2010 and I don't seem to be based in the same reality or something.

How bizarre, how bizarre.

Frowny Face

I haven't watched the Bachelorette in years. Since Trista found lovely Ryan, in fact. So I guess I haven't watched it since its first season.

For whatever reason, I started watching this season (possibly because I read somewhere that there were a couple of Canadian guys) and I have come to a rather interesting conclusion.

Watching the Bachelorette makes me angry.

Not serious angry angry, but like a frustrated kind of "Argh!" sort of angry.

Not because of any of the people or the general silliness that is the show. Not because it's weird to see one person making out with a bunch of people, but because while I'm watching it, all I keep thinking is "that should be ME!"

*I* should have twenty five cute, nice, interesting guys picked out to date. And *I* should be sent on amazing dates all over the world doing really wonderful, fun, exciting things with these handsome, men who are all vying for my attention and affection and love!

I guess it's jealousy in a way, but it feels more like I'm having a tantrum of the "that's not fair and so I will stomp my feet and frown and pout" in the hopes I'll get what I want.

Harumph.

An Open Letter To The Current Daylight Hours

Dear Lovely, Beautifully Long, Daylight-Filled Days,

Please, please don't go.

I mean, I know, typically, soon you start thinking of heading to the other half of the world and I know you do it slowly and discreetly, but I'm asking you to really think about it and consider staying.

Ideally, you'd stay like this all year, that would be amazing.

See, I love waking up to you. It makes my morning nice. I can see to put on my clothes and get out of bed and I can even open the blinds and see the rest of the world. I like this.

And I like spending my day with you and even more than that? I love spending my evening with you.

Even when it's a week night and I'm thinking of heading to bed I can still see you lingering out there in the sky and it makes me oh so very happy.

When we get to hang out all day and all evening like this I feel like I'm getting so much more done! I can run all my errands, and go for a walk and take photos in you and then still come home and have more of you out my window.

It's so awesome having you here all the time like this right now and I'm asking, no. . . I'm begging you, please, please PLEASE don't go.

Please.

Yours with fluttering eyelashes of persuasion,
Victoria

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

I love me my MacBook, but I'm really starting to be concerned about the lap burnage that's happening.

As in, if I'm using it while it's plugged in and/or watching video and I've got it on my lap, my left leg gets so warm it's actually turning red.

So much so, that I've taken to wrapping an ice pack and having it under that side of the laptop.

I'm thinking that's maybe not, you know, normal?

Weeeeeeeird

See the photo over there? ---------------->

Yeah, that photo's weirding me out something crazy. Allow me to explain.

I was chatting with someone about Arbutus trees and something in my brain went "hey, I think I took a photo of an Arbutus tree and put it on flickr, I should check it out"

So I went to my flickr account and typed 'Arbutus' in to the "search my photostream." And here's where my mind got blown.

See, I have a pretty specific system when it comes to uploading my photos and I, before hitting the "search" button the other day, could have confidently told you that I have never, ever uploaded the same photo to flickr twice.

In fact, I can still tell you that. I have never uploaded the same photo to flickr twice.

But the photo you're looking at right now? I'd uploaded three times.

I was so seriously weirded out by this I didn't know what to think. I'd somehow managed to mess up my system not once, not twice, but three times and funnily enough, each time I'd named the photo differently and each time had different comments and favourites and I'd even uploaded them months and months away from each other and man oh man I can't tell you how weird it was to see I'd done that.

And even more? I'd used the three different photos three different times in three different blog posts.

Dude.

So,of course, I had to go and delete two of the three uploads, which meant I had to pick new photos for two posts and, of course, I had to write a post about it and use the photo again but this time it's ok because it's on purpose and I know I'm re-using it.

But, dude. Seriously.

Weird.

How did I not notice?

This Post Will Not Make Sense Or Matter To Most Of You

So, I really don't know how many of you are BCers here, but I know at least a couple of you are and so this one's for you.

The minimum you non-BC residents need to know is that our government decided to combine our two sales taxes GST and PST into one tax they lovingly named the Harmonized Sales Tax or HST. Anyhow, most of us have been pretty angry about this HST since it was announced and have been getting snarlier about it as the July 1st deadline approached.

So imagine my growliness when my phone bill arrived and they'd charged me all three taxes. They'd also charged me all three taxes next to a notice that stated that "Starting July 1st" I'd see the HST being added to my bill so watch out for those changes "starting July 1st"

Well, that didn't sit well with me, so I called them up and asked them to refund the HST as they were billing me mid-June and adding a tax that didn't come into effect for another three weeks.

There was a rather amusing moment when the fellow on the other end of the line realized just how much money I was calling them about.

"So, you want the 26 cents refunded?"

"Yup, that's right, I do."

For me, it wasn't so much about the amount, although I can buy a few five cent candies with that 26 cents don't you know, it was about how the company was choosing to handle what they must have known was a contentious issue with the public.

I've since found I'm not the only one who was angry about this and I just wanted the other BCers out there to watch their Telus (and apparently Shaw) bills closely this month. The argument as I understand it now is that since my bill stretches into July Telus is charging me GST and PST for June and then the HST for the two days in July. But still, it didn't feel right, it frustrated and angered me, so I let them know and they changed it for me.

Anyway, sorry for the rather random post, but now I've vented so thank you for listening and now we can all move on with our weeks and such. *clap clap* Nothing to see here people, let's go, enjoy your Mondays!

And What About Those Vuvuzelas?

So who's watching the World Cup?

And who are you cheering for?

And who's going to take it all?

And who has no idea what I'm talking about?

Hmmmm

Watching an(other) episode of The Tudors the other day and (I think it was) Mary, one of King Henry's daughters said "perhaps I am just not destined to marry" (or something along those lines.)

And she wasn't upset about it, just said it as a fact.

Which made me wonder if maybe I'm just not destined to marry and if not, would that be so bad?

Hmmmmmm. . .

One Day

I found myself, for some reason, thinking about what I'd want to be if I could be or do anything. Sort of along the lines of what I'd want to be when I "grow up."

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a ballerina, or a horse trainer, or possibly both. When I was a little bit older, there was a while that I wanted to be a civil lawyer (and, no, I'm not sure where that idea came from.)

Now, if you handed me a fantasy life I'm not sure which I'd choose. Somewhere between a famous dancer or maybe a singer songwriter or famous actress (without the papparazzi) or maybe a J.K. Rowling young adult type writer. Or a princess.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Heh

I realized something the other day and it's that I occasionally talk to myself out loud* when I'm home by myself (which is almost always, but doesn't mean I do this always.)

And, I don't mean the regular sort of talking to yourself, I mean like making sound effects and funny voices and then giggling at the noises/voices.

Which is really funny to me in the moment, but maybe sounds a little weird when you say it out loud.

Am I the only one who does this

* As opposed to in my head, sillies!

Real?

Sometime last week (or so) Angella mentioned that her kids had been on a train ride and had loved having to hand in their tickets to the conductor.

It made me think of a time when I was a kid and was given (by Santa, I think) a train conductor's kit. I remember it having a little over the shoulder bag and some tickets and then the memory kind of gets fuzzy and I can't remember, but think it had something you could "punch" the tickets with and I also seem to remember how much fun I had giving people tickets and collecting them and punching them and thinking it was the awesomest present ever.

But the thing is, I can't be sure that I actually *had* a train conductor's kit or if I read it in a book or saw it in a movie or some combination of all of the above.

I'd ask my parents, but I'm sure it's not something they'd remember either so it kind of made me wonder; how would I know if my childhood little memories like playing with a conductor's kit are real or borrowed from somewhere.

Isn't that a weird thought?

What's That Sound You Hear?

Well, that's the sound of me singing the "Hallelujah" song.

You know, the happy woo hoo Hallelujah one that one sings to celebrate happy things? (I'm not the only one who does that right? Right?)

Yeah, that's the sound you hear because I'm celebrating the fact that the worst thing that happened to me this weekend is the blister I have between my big toe because I was wearing my flip flops in the deliciously gorgeous weather while I walked around downtown looking at cute sailors who were in town for the Navy's 100th anniversary celebration.

So, so nice to have a happy, relaxing but fun, sunny weekend. Just what the doctor* ordered.

Haaaaaallelujah! Haaaaaaallelujah! Hallelujah, hallelujah, halleeeeeelujah!


*By "doctor", I mean me.

From The News

What do you think kids these days are scared of? I mean, big picture scared of?

Like, I remember being scared of nuclear war when I was a kid. I don't remember why, anymore, it must have been in the news or talked about somewhere but I do, quite clearly, remember being afraid that we were going to blow ourselves up and weren't going to survive the nuclear war that was coming.

I imagine that if I were a kid nowadays I'd be afraid of looming environmental damage* but I don't know, maybe there's something else scarier to kids that's going on, like the idea of a zombie attack or maybe it's still nuclear war?

I don't know. Did you have a big-picture fear when you were a kid? Beyond clowns or spiders or the boogeyman or closet monster? What do you think kids are afraid of now?







*See, this is why I don't watch the news, it gets me all upset.

Cooooooooooool!

Ages ago, my brother raved to me about these umbrellas he bought at the Vancouver Umbrella Shop.

I didn't think anything of it.

Well, that's not true, I kind of chuckled to myself, because, seriously? who raves about umbrellas.

They're. . . umbrellas.

But since I've been exercising more and therefore walking more and therefore walking in the rain more, I've been thinking a little bit more about umbrellas. Specifically, how it's not that much fun when your umbrella doesn't really brella.

See, a while ago I bought this adorable teeny tiny little fold up umbrella that's so cute and pretty you just want to hug it and kiss it and squee! over it.

But the last few times I've gone out and actually, you know, used it, it hasn't been. . . great.

Sure, it's cute, but it's also small. And small umbrellas don't actually keep the rain off of much of you. Plus the wind likes to show 'em who's boss.

So last time I was over at my brother's and he wanted to show me something in the backyard and it happened to be raining, I took one of his Umbrella Store umbrellas.

And not only did I stay dry, the thing was light and had a cool automatic spring loaded part and I actually told my brother that he was right and these were really good umbrellas. Go figure.

I went home and that happened to be the week the other week when it rained. All. Week. And it happened to be the week I went out for a walk and got rained on WHILE holding my teeeeeeeny tiny umbrella.

So I came back inside, dried off, and fired up the internet to see if you could order umbrellas on line from the Umbrella Store.

Turns out you can. So I did!

And do you know what showed up, I swear, two days later (even though that means they must have put my umbrellas in the mail the second I ordered them?) My awesome umbrellas!

So I'm now the proud owner of a cute little (but not actually little) folding umbrella and a big, real live, like I'm a grownup going for a stroll with my tall ladylike umbrella.

And, wouldn't you know it, I've turned into a person who raves about how awesome my umbrellas are.

So totally.

You need to buy yourself a real umbrella from the Umbrella Store in Vancouver people. They're awesome.

My brother and I both say so!

Odd, But True

I never used to like peanut butter.

Not as a kid even. In fact, I really dis-liked it as a kid. Wouldn't eat it, no PBJ's for me, no peanut butter cookies either, yuck.

Don't know when (or why, more to the point) I tried peanut butter again, but it was really only in the last few years, and you know what? I like it now.

Not sure I love it and don't want to marry it or anything, but the stuff's not bad.

And, more to the point, is kind of awesomely filling. Like if I have a piece of toast with peanut butter on it in the morning, I'm not hungry til lunch! Awesome, right?

Kind of makes me wonder what else I might like now.

To The Non-Single Gentlemen

Dear Sirs,

I need you to understand something, and bear with me here because I'm right.

I know it may be against your beliefs and it may impinge on your idea of personal freedom and I know it may go against your need to fight against the man and society's expectations but you need to do me this favour.

If you're married, or as good as married, heck, even if you're engaged to be married? If you're really, totally, completely off the market?

Wear a god damned wedding ring.

You may not have anything to prove to anyone because you and your wife/life partner already know you're committed to each other I mean, hey you've got kids, you bought that house together, what more of a sign of commitment do you need right? But dude? It's not about you.

It's about me and my need to glance at you once, see a ring and move on.

Because if I spend one more day having a crush on a guy who is not wearing a wedding ring and then goes on to talk about his wife/long term girlfriend I am going to lose my mind.

So wear a ring. Please.

Remember, it's not about you, it's about letting the lovely single ladies out there move on and find an *actual* single man to drool over.

Yours frustratedly and with thanks in advance,
Victoria

It's Important To Be Polite When Marketing

I get quite a lot of junk email suggesting I take advantage of the company's really excellent price on E.D. medication.

I mean, not that they call it E.D. medication, they just go right ahead and suggest I take advantage of the 70% off on Viagra and Cialis sale they're having.

What's been happening lately with these emails that I think is really adorable, is that they've been addressing it directly to me.

Like-a-so:

Dear Mr. Victoria Smith.

Really? Your spam-machine has somehow learned the name attached to the email address but didn't manage to figure out that it's not a man's name?

I mean, I do appreciate the polite salutation, but it's odd.

Oh, You Guys

So, ok, that was another intense weekend this weekend, and hey, aren't I due for a really fun awesome relaxed and happy one soon? Yes, I think so, but anyway.

I've had a cold/flu sort of thing since Monday and it was a little bit sore throat a little bit cough and kind of like there was an elephant standing on my chest and then I was tooooooo hot, but shivery and oh please don't touch my skin and sweating while I slept and not hungry which meant so tired, but really food? Yuck. Whose idea was that anyway?

So, yeah, that was this week and then on Thursday I was such a wreck that I wasn't even sure what my name was and, well, that's not so good for the spy work don't you know it so Friday became a sick day.

I went for a walk around lunch on Friday and it was the most super slow-mo walk ever but still I was going to do my "exercise every day" walk so help me and by the time I got home I was exhausted and had managed to give myself some wicked bad heartburn.

I figured the heartburn was from not eating much and then exercising (because why else would I get random heartburn, right?) and popped some Gaviscon.

Which didn't help.

And, I mean, this was intensely painful heartburn you guys, like when I moved in a way that aggravated it I'd freeze and just pray for it to stop because holy smokes bad bad ouch bad.

The coughing made it hurt, breathing more than a pant made it worse, lying down made it worse, sitting up in the "wrong" position made it worse, don't even *think* about lying or moving onto my left side because that was just asking for more of the sharp poker stabbingness so I went to London Drugs and got Maalox and Zantac and talked to the pharmacist who told me sometimes it just takes a while to settle down if the lining's really irritated and who told me how much I could take.

Which I did and then tenderly lay in the one position in bed that I could and dozed. (Have you ever tried to sleep without moving? Doesn't work. Hence: no sleep.)

By the time I woke up on Saturday I was pretty sure something wasn't right and that it wasn't heartburn. The mere fact that I was awake at 8 on a weekend, for those of you know know my sleeping patterns, is proof of how un-great I was feeling.

So I decided to Google what else could possibly be going on and while I know that's not a great idea, I'm pretty medically smart and know enough to not freak out if Google comes up with a rare tropical illness I've obviously contracted and am about to die from, but nonetheless the symptoms weren't coming up with anything good.

So I called the BC Nurse Line (which, if you're in BC and don't know about it is 8-1-1 and is great and free) to get some reassurance and advice but because of the no-sleep and the serious pain I kind of burst into tears when they started asking me questions.

As in "Can you give me your name please?"

Me: "Sob. . . sob. . . yes. . cough OUCH. . It's. . Vic. . sob. . . toria."

So that made me feel kind of stupid (and yes I know I'm starting lots of sentences with "so", So?) and then when I started talking to the very nice nurse she started asking me questions that I knew weren't good but I answered honestly anyway.

Her: "Do you have a fever?"

Me: "Yes, but I've had one all week with the cold you see."

Her: "And are you sweaty or clammy?"

Me: "Yes, but I've been like that all week with the cold."

Her: "And the pain, is it referring up your neck at all?"

Me: "Well, yes, but that's because I'm so tense with how much it hurts I'm tensing everything and so now they hurt too."

I knew where she was going; heart-attack, and while I was pretty sure I wasn't having one, I also didn't know what was going on to cause that much pain. And it really was that much pain.

Her, very gently: "I don't mean to alarm you, but I need you to get checked out right away so that we can make sure you're not having a heart attack."

Me: "Can't I just go to a walk in clinic? I mean, (and then I started crying again) I don't want to be the person who shows up at the ER with heartburn!"

Her: "No, I really think you need to go, right now, to the ER. And don't worry, if it turns out it's just heartburn, then they'll have the proper medication to give you to make it go away. So, I need you to tell me you're going get someone to take you to the Emergency Room right away and if you don't have someone to take you, I need you to call 9-1-1 ok?"

Me: (so totally crying now, which, of course hurts like a bugger and now I can't breathe because of the crying and pain and oh crap this is not good) "OK. I will."

Because really that was not how I was hoping the conversation would go at all.

Her: "Ok, can you tell me what you're going to do?"

Me: "I'll call some people and (full on crying again) ask if they can take me to the ER."

Her: "Ok, great, good. You take care ok."

Me: "Thank. . . sob. . . you."

And so I called a couple of people but they weren't home and I called a couple more but they have kids so I didn't ask for a ride and I thought of calling a couple other people but then who wants to invite someone for a possible boring morning of sitting in an ER so I just (did the stupid and unsafe thing and) drove myself.

To make an already incredibly long story short(er). I got there, cried in reception, got taken in really quickly, they checked out my heart, which was fine (so I cried some more) and when I got to see the doctor (not too much later) he told me my EKG was fine, my lungs sounded fine, everything was fine except for the muscle I'd torn in my chest.

"It's incredibly painful, I know" he said as I started crying AGAIN "but it's not your heart, and it'll heal itself." To which I gave him a thumbs up, because what else do you do when someone tells you you're *not*, in fact, having a heart problem of any kind and you're greatly relieved but still at the same time were hoping for, oh, I don't know, a pneumonia or something so you didn't feel quite so silly for freaking out and feeling like a wimp.

He offered to give me some crazy pain meds (which I turned down cuz they make me puke, lucky me) and sleeping pills (which I also turned down because I didn't feel like that'd help with the actual pain and so why bother except, oh, right I forgot I can't sleep with the pain) and told me to take a ton of Advil every four hours and that it should start to feel better in about a week.

So there was a massive feeling of relief (which, not surprisingly seemed to help the pain) to know that it wasn't some kind of heart-related illness and wasn't something that was going to incapacitate me but rather, just a very painful but not serious problem. Massive relief.

So I met some friends at the Oak Bay Tea party for the parade and then went home and sort-of-lay on the couch (because I can't actually lay down yet.... wait, lie? can I not lie down or lay down? I'm going with lie) and was exhausted.

Not sleeping plus high emotional stress = exhaustion.

Things started to feel better yesterday, I actually took a full breath and I think the muscle's loosening or healing or whatever it needs to be doing because I've found a few more positions I can lie/lay in.

I bummed myself out a bit on Sunday night by choosing to not go to the Xavier Rudd concert I've been looking forward to for ages, but my wiser self figured that two hours of standing and/or cheering and dancing wouldn't do my cough or my still really hurty when you hit the wrong position chest thing any good, but it still was sad to miss it. I haven't missed a Xavier show since the first one I saw seven years ago.

But it was the right (and smart) thing to do, right? To stay home and rest? (Tell me yes or I'll cry and I don't want to cry, it hurts the chest-thing.)

So let's all cross our fingers that next weekend's a good one, nay, a great one!

Or at least a happy, mellow one.

And, no matter what's kind of crummy with your life and/or your day today? Just take a moment to be glad you're alive and well and breathing and give yourself a hug for me ok? Thanks.

Battle Continuum

For the past few weeks I've been playing certain songs over and over and over. Most of an album, really, and a few previously un-listened to songs from another.

For the first time since highschool (where I once made a mixed tape of the same song repeated over and over and over sides and listened to it endlessly) I'm listening to something over and over again.

I have so much more to say about this and these songs and John Mayer (who right now is both part of the problem and part of the solution even though he's really nothing more than an imaginary version of a real person in my mind) and everything, but for now here's a video that uses one of the songs I can't seem to stop listening to.

It's a great video too. So there's that. And this is weird because I feel like what I'm about to type is deja-vu and I could probably find out if I've already typed it but I won't, but I don't want to hear about it today if you don't like this guy or this video. I've heard enough from people lately about how they don't like him and, well, right now this is the soundtrack of my life and soul and so I get to shush you. Because this song *is* me right now. They all are.

But it's not really time to talk about that yet. Need more sleep first.

But anyway, here you go:



Battle Studies Winter Tour Video

Remembered

I forgot to tell you a story from a while ago, one of the nights C-Dawg and I were out on the town having a blast.

We were in one of the local establishments that had some rather yummy bartenders and the two of us were sitting at the bar.

What bartenders sometimes forget is that not everyone is hammered and that non-drunk people actually can hear.

I say this because C-Dawg and I burst out laughing when, while listening in on the conversation between two of the young bartenders, we overheard a third approach them and say "Ok, guys, best in show just walked in, red shirt, far corner."

We, of course, had to go take turns finding out which lucky girl had been labelled "best in show" and while we didn't agree (um, hello, obviously it should have been us) it was fun to see the bartender blush when we teasingly called him on it. "Hey, you guys wouldn't possibly be referring to the best looking girl in this place as 'Best in Show' would you?"

*Cute young bartender blushes, but to his credit gives us a great smile*

"No. Of course not! That would be derogatory."

*Cute young bartender suddenly finds something of great interest at the other side of the bar.*

*C-Dawg and Victoria head off to the next pub and decide to start their own version of the game: "Blue Ribbon Winner"*

By Any Other Name

I love roses.

I imagine I always have, but it's not something I particularly remember from when I was a kid. I love roses and I love ones like this one with the multi-coloured petals and I love love love the scent of roses.

There was a wild bush of roses (or, I suppose, a bush of wild roses) along the side of the lot while I was waiting in Tsawwassen for the ferry this weekend and the smell of them was stunning. I wasn't the only one who literally stopped to smell the roses.

At some point this weekend, I had an intense craving for rose water. The only rose water I've ever tasted was made by a friend of mine last summer by taking the beautiful, scented, massive ivory roses from her garden and sprinkling some petals into a jug of water she kept in the fridge.

I don't know what "real" rose water tastes like but this stuff was divine. Cool, fresh water with just a hint of a scent. It was magical, I swear.

I love roses and I grew them back when I lived in a place that had a garden and they're finicky sometimes (especially the miniature ones) but I swear, I never get over how beautiful they are.

This is apropos of absolutely nothing, by the way.

How's your day going anyway?

Because I'm Twelve, Apparently

I don't like bathroom humour and grew up in a household where the "F" word wasn't the one most people think of but was, rather, the one that people say when their bottom has belched, if you know what I mean. (F - A - R - T, for those of you who don't.) Seriously, it was as bad as a swear word in our house and still not a word I use.

So I don't like F-word jokes and don't make them myself which makes the next confession all the stranger (and funnier perhaps?)

The only time I ever giggle about "that kind of thing" and actually make a toot-related joke is when I hear big boats (like ferries) backing up.

If you don't know, boats (er, what's the correct term here? honk? blow? sound? Yeah, that's probably it "sound") sound their horns (heh) three times before backing up out of a dock or something similar. (It's the boat world's way of saying "I'm going astern" or "Dude, get out of my way because I'm backing up and don't want to run anyone over")

So, here's the thing.

While I don't make f-a-r-t jokes or anything like that (in fact, when C-Dawg's husband wants to annoy me he says "fart, fart fart" over and over just to see me cringe), whenever I hear the triple Honk, Honk, Honk of a big boat I always (even if alone) giggle and say "Excuse me!" as if I just let out three big toots of my own ifyouknowwhatImean.

Every time I do it near my parents they give me that tsk tsk head shaking kind of thing (which is probably what encourages me in some reverse psychology way) and I giggle and feel like I'm getting away with being really rude.

I don't know why I find it so darn amusing, I really don't.

But I do.

Heh.

Intimidation Factor

I'm still very much there with "there" being in that place where things don't feel good and my insides feel raw and exposed although there's no-one here to show them to because I'm alone and possibly lonely and things are moving me to tears more than I'm used to but I actually suspect that's a good thing in the end. But even though I'm there, I still have stories to tell you my dears.

Like how just after I took this photo (or, at least I think it was after I took this photo because it happened in this vicinity and I haven't gone back to the area since because of it) I walked down an adjacent side street, my toque on because it's been strangely chilly and I like my head to be cozy, my ears especially because they burn when they get cold. And I don't know if it was because of the toque, but thank goodness I had it on anyway because as I walked under some of the same type of trees something smacked me on the back of my head.

And my brain was surprisingly quick to process it actually, although I can tell you exactly what went through my mind in the split second after the thing smacked me on the back of my head.

"Ouch."

"Something just hit me on the back of my head. It didn't hurt a lot, so it probably wasn't a ball, plus I didn't hear anything landing so it's not as if something hit me and then bounced off onto the ground but they what just hit me oh I bet it was a crow."

Because as these thoughts were going through my head in some kind of brain slow motion that was really only a point something of a second long I had turned around and there was a very angry crow sitting on a telephone wire staring at me and that's when my brain said "Oh, I bet it was a crow."

At which point my brain was very happy that I was wearing a hat of some kind because I didn't want to think of what it would have been like if it'd hit my hair and ewwww I'd probably have been weirded out by actual crow to head contact and maybe the toque softened the blow because while it didn't hurt exactly, it didn't not hurt either.

And I've heard of this happening to people before, but it's never happened to me. And I've walked under those trees before and never so much as seen a crow, but it is Spring after all and my understanding is that they do it to protect their nest.

Which at the time, didn't matter to me, because I turned around and said, at the top of my voice, to the crow, uncaring of whether or not there were people around, "HEY! Stop that, that's not nice!" and then when the crow looked like it was about to maybe consider jumping on my head again I waggled my folded up umbrella at it and it decided to leave me alone at which point I kind of realized the whole thing was a little bit weird and I'd better just go home.

So I got dive bombed by a crow you guys. The darn thing actually attacked me. As I was on the ground. Protective little buggers, aren't they?