The closest I’ve ever come to killing a man

I’d just taken off my glasses when I spotted a strange black, spindly looking speck on the middle of my bed. In one swift, automatic motion, like one of those robotic arms at GM checking a tail light, I squinted and leaned down for a closer look.

I remember that fateful day in grade six when I first discovered I needed glasses. My friend and I were running for the bus. “What number is it?” he hollered over his shoulder. I couldn’t tell him. I knew from the look he gave me after he’d turned to check for himself, that from that moment on the only 20/20s I’d be seeing would be quiz scores. Hey, we nerds have had to compensate somehow. It’s no coincidence grades and glasses go together. You wouldn’t believe how high my marks were the year I got braces!

As my nose came closer and closer to the comforter, I thought of how many times I’ve come face to face with that eternal question… dust? Or spider?  I must say though, despite all those jerk-back-and-scream moments, there’s a certain amount of empathy those of us with four eyes can’t help but feel for those poor souls cursed with eight. But, sometimes that’s not enough to protect them when the situation becomes a clear case of ’it’ or ‘me’.

I was over at a high school boyfriend’s house in grade eleven. Even though his parents were home (nothin’ to worry about Mom), it somehow fell to me to deal with the teeny arachnid lurking over their second floor landing. I vacuumed it up with the duster extension while my boyfriend cringed behind me. I decided to have a little fun with him (not that kind Mom).

“See,” I said, swinging the nozzle round to within inches of his face, “it’s right here!”

With a wild shriek, he flung himself backwards down the stairs.

Thankfully, the stairs were carpeted. Even more thankfully, he somehow caught hold of the railing – while upside down! - half a second before his head slammed into the ground. Still, to this day, it’s as close as I’ve ever come to killing a man.

The speck on my bed turned out to be a tiny mess of thread. I flicked it into the corner, where it now lies in wait to freak me out another day. Though luckily, now I have backup.

Just be thankful your invite got lost in the mail!

If you see this sign... You'd better watch out!

Starts out all innocent...

Then someone invites a friend...

Then the friends start adding up...

And pretty soon you've got a real party!

I came across this charming ‘cow tree’ in New Brunswick last month. There was magic in that warm August air, and I couldn’t resist bringing some back to Calgary to share with all my readers. Of course, the ‘real’ lesson here is that the inherent romance of some settings can even, on the rare occasion, transend species. Oh Newton, how different your future (and all of ours!) might have been if you’d planted yourself under a cow tree on that sunny afternoon in Lincolnshire.

I know I shouldn’t blog about people at work, but…

It has come to my attention that four out of this company’s sixteen employees – a full 25% – are wearing glasses held together by quintessentially nerdist means. I know we are a geophysical data processing firm, but seriously! I mean really, could we get any more cliché:

Culprit 1: Scotch tape (keeping it simple with what’s at hand)

Culprit 2: Plastic shrink-wrap sleeve reinforced with Scotch tape (because I’m – yes, of course I’m on this list too – an all or nothing kind of gal, in my loves, in my dreams, and apparently in my DIY eyewear repairs)

Culprit 3: Electrical tape (for a more discreet look, because one can never sacrifice style)

Culprit 4: An ungainly silver ball of soldering (because one must have style before one can sacrifice it)

I don’t dare rank us in terms of nerdiness, but you’re welcome give it a try. Oh, and sorry #4, but look on the bright side; I’m sure your repair will outlast all of ours. And anyways, there’s something to be said for a touch of asymmetrical nerd bling – Jay-Z would be proud~wink.

More snow in June?

Take a closer look... Achoo!

Calgary weather has a cruel sense of humor. Like the uncle who insists on pinching your cheek in front of your fiancé, it doesn’t knows when to stop the joke. After this little incident, I had to do a double take to make sure what I found this morning was the kind of  fluff that makes you sneeze rather than sniffle. But somehow, this city always gets the last laugh. While I was taking a closer look with my camera, I was just about mowed down by a crazed morning cyclist. Touché, Calgary…touché.

If NASA launched Voyager III today, this would HAVE to be on The Golden Record!

When NASA’s Voyager mission launched its two spacecrafts in 1977, there existed no single image/sound/document that could perfectly encapsulate the human experience. Instead, over one hundred images and dozens of recordings, greetings, and printed messages were gathered together and sent along as the ultimate interplanetary press release. The Golden Record, as a (Grammy worthy) compilation album, was the only way to communicate the complexity of our existence… until now.

This ten second clip (Click Here) changes everything. Finally, we have single, stand alone, snapshot of what it is… “to be”.

The Dorian Gray Snowman

I saw a perfect snowman on my walk home last Thursday. He had black button eyes, a carrot nose, and a jolly hollowed out smile. The snowman stood, proudly postured, with his well proportioned stick arms throwing a happy hug to the world.

This Monday morning on my way to work, I passed by the snowman again. He still stood on his frosty lawn, in front of the same ludicrously expensive, beautiful, home. But… Oh what horrors of debauchery that family must have gotten up to over the weekend!

Not only had the snowman had been stripped of his arms, but he had had his eyes plucked out and his nose torn away. His proud stance had melted into the awful droop of a being who has given up on the world, with his head lolling back on sloping shoulders and the rest of him sinking slowly into the earth. And his mouth, that was the most gruesome transformation. His jaw gaped and his bulging lower lip was sagging low, off to one side, halfway down to his chest. I could almost hear the wretched thing howling at me from its slushy maw as I trudged by on the sidewalk.

I must admit the scene cheered me, in a way.

So often we walk by large lovely houses and imagine large lovely families living large, and lovely, lives inside. What a relief it is then, to see how they might not be so perfect after all – that a single one of their weekends could leave a portrait, albeit in snow, so ruined. Of course, the weather did warm up a bit on Saturday, but that wouldn’t have anything to do with it ~wink.

Top 10 rules for the checkout line (+bonus!)

Dear customer,

This is a letter straight from the trenches, from a poor cashier who spent years chained to a register. Despite the fundamental flaw in our relationship – I want your money and you don’t want to give it to me – I propose a truce. You and I have an amazing opportunity to improve each other’s day! To guarantee smiles on both sides of the counter, just remember to take these ten rules with you the next time you go shopping.

1-Please be PATIENT. The scanner will only read one barcode at a time and the computer will only take one keystroke at a time. Remember this: the cashier hates that you have to wait even more than you do. We know what waiting does to people, and those are the nightmares that wake us up in the middle of the night!

If you do find yourself in a line:
-get your money ready
-group your items and expose their bar-codes
-do not under any circumstances make any kind of repetitive noise (tapping, clicking, gnashing of teeth, etc.)

Note: The speed of the line should in no way be taken a function of the cashier’s competence or intelligence. Even geniuses have to pay rent! Grab a magazine, grab a breath, grab a pack of gum, and deal with it.

2-When you bring me a product with no barcode and no identifying marks whatsoever, there will be an inevitable delay. No, I do not know the code for 26″ by 45″ alabaster mini blinds off the top of my head. If I did, both you and I should be very worried.

Note:Telling me the price is not a substitute for the inventory sku code, and throwing a drawer pull in my general direction while grunting something about two dollars just isn’t going to cut it. And then when you accuse me, indignantly, of not trusting you, well, now you’ve gone and made it personal!

3-If the item has no barcode it is not free. If it has a barcode, but doesn’t scan on my first try… it is not free. Second try… nope, still not free. Third… not free. Fourth….let me check…NOT FREE!

Note: I know you thought you were being clever and funny with your “must be free then”, but so did the other 10 000 people who tried to get it for free before you. And no, despite what you may have heard, I didn’t let them get away with it either.

4-I know this news will come as a shock to many of you, but in this great country we have something called tax (pronounced taks). Deep breath, let this new information sink in. Now, when you get to my cash, and before you open your mouth to ask what you’re going to ask, stop, and remember the new word you’ve just learned.

5- Yes, that is the terrifying total. I know it’s an awful shock to get up to the cash with 3 items that are $2 each and hear a total of $6 (plus that crazy tax thing). Accusing me of any number of devious ways I must have manipulated my scanning to rob you will not change the total. It will only make me want to use my apparent criminal genius to plot your untimely demise.

6- “I exist.” For the 30 seconds we are part of each other’s lives, you are my whole world. Every move I make, I do it for you. When you ignore me or, worse, spend the whole time on your cell phone, you (sniffle) break my heart.

7- Only you can decide if you want the green one or the blue one. Go on, revel in your freedom and independence. Just please make up your mind before you get to my cash.

8- When it comes to change, two heads are never better than one. When I’m half way through counting out $13.86 in change, the quarter you just found in your back pocket does not help in the slightest.

9- There is no __________ (insert random word from dictionary) special discount. No, not even on Wednesdays.

10- Being in a hurry does not make you any more important than the person you’re trying to butt ahead of. Being late does not make you special. It only makes you late. This is not communism, just plain good ol’ customer service!

Most of all, please recognize the awesome power you have as a customer to change my day for the better. It certainly doesn’t take much, a smile, a joke, a “someday you’ll get out of here” bit of encouragement. I guarantee not only I, but my next customer will thank you!

Bonus- If you insist on telling me step by step how to do my job, that’s wonderful. Come on back behind the counter and I’ll give you my apron, while I get the heck out of here!

(condensed from my “Ten (+4) Rules” article in New Writing)

Size does matter! (at least it did in 1960s Hong Kong)

Humans are by nature a competitive species. Some tick in our brains compels us to one-up one another at every available opportunity. This is all well and good for “survival of the fittest” and all that tom foolery, but there are times this biological quirk not only throws off our sense of reality, but messes with our sense of proportion too.

How big are your rims? Do they spin? They do, eh? Well, isn’t that special. Car rims have become major macho talking points for my generation. You better be chromed up and ready to roll on twenty-two inches of sparkling Star-Wars-styled steel if you want to call yourself a man.

But back in 1960s Hong Kong, men spent their money boosting a different set of inches (inches they didn’t have to keep in the garage). The son of a Hong Kong tailor told me today how at the peak of the bell bottom fad, a man came into the shop asking for “twenty-two inch wide pant legs”!

Because you know, of course, there’s nothing more manly than a fellow walking around with a couple of skirts hanging off his knees lol ; )

Want Joy? Find your Eric Burger

Even if you’re ‘biting off more than you can chew’, you can’t argue with the pure unadulterated joy of leaping straight into your wildest dreams. Just take a piece of advice from Eric “Badlands”, and keep your eyes open!

Time to say “adieux” till next season (but not to you!)

Fernie, British Columbia. Some of the sweetest skiing in Canada! See you next year snow. See you next year crazy long traverse (across that far wall). See you next year powder coddled trees. Oh… and snow, if you miss me, please, please, just don’t come visit me on the golf course!   

STOP! (yes you) STOP!

Stop whatever you’re doing, wherever you’re doing it. Take a moment and appreciate the simplicity of your life: the next few hours are mapped out with (mostly) achievable tasks; you’re comfortably dressed, in warm (dry) clothes. Go ahead and smile. Breathe deep and savour your bliss.

I was once like you, young and innocent, so happy and carefree. I never stopped to appreciate how darned good I had it. Until, just mere moments ago, I turned on the tap in our office kitchen and sent a 360 degree deluge of turbo charged spray out into the room. Yes, life was so much simpler back when napkins were plentiful and clothes were dry. sigh.

So you thought you were immortal?

Pop in the plate. Set microwave for 30 seconds – on high. Press start.

You keep your eyes glued to the glass. “It’s only 30 seconds,” you say. “It’ll go by so fast.” And it does. Congratulations, you’ve just spent 30 precious seconds of your life watching infinitesimally small molecules increase their rate of vibration. Way to go. And here you thought TV commercials were wasting your life.

Ah, man. And here I am writing about watching infinitesimally small molecules increase their rate of vibration. But suddenly, I don’t feel so bad. You’re here reading about someone writing about someone watching infinitesimally small….

sucker.

(I jest, I jest, please keep reading)

Toilet paper solves global oil crisis

The world is slowly, but surely, running out of oil. I’m not concerned, even though our culture is guzzling it with total abandon. Not worried a bit, even though we are completely dependent on the stuff. We’ll be fine. Why? Because of the toilet paper paradigm…

We’re generally reckless with this household resource when there’s at least one more roll in the cupboard. And we’re still liberal with it when the final roll is first mounted. But there’s a distinct point, at a certain square, when the harsh reality of our predicament sets in. Our perception of each square’s value changes drastically. We become acutely aware of texture and thickness as we alter our absorbency calculations for maximum efficiency. How we use TP changes too. We test out folding versus scrunching. We discover we can get by with far fewer squares and still be perfectly hygienic. And, if the unthinkable happens and the roll runs out entirely, we are incredibly resourceful in finding substitutes ; ) 

We may be mounting that last roll right now, in terms of oil, but I have no doubt that once we reach that certain square we’ll have had enough practice in our bathrooms to know exactly what to do.

When in doubt…7-eleven

A birthday is best celebrated with an amazing friend,
a 90210 marathon, and some major slurpie action!!

It’s brianaustingreen! (scream)

Just so everyone knows…the actor who played little David Silver on Beverly Hills 90210 is engaged to Megan Fox (voted sexiest woman alive 2008). This fact is only half as disturbing as the “google moment” discovery my coworker and I made yesterday, that brian-austin-green released a rap album in the early 90s.

For your viewing pleasure… from the man once reviewed as “the poor man’s Vanilla Ice”… here is… You Send Me

Random advice overheard in a mall…

“Never have helium when you’re feeling sick”

The golf/poker faceoff

We Ontario golfers are easy to spot during these last few weeks of winter. Whether in business meetings, elevators, or hibernating in the simulators at Golf Town, we all wear the same desperate look. Our eyes are glassy, our bodies limp. Even the collars of our polos droop. There is a remedy, but your wife’s not going to like it.  

Poker.

Last night I realized that poker and golf are almost literally the same game. Both take in overconfident suckers, chew them up, and…well, you know the rest. Each one makes you believe that the next hand, or next hole, will be the turning point that will save your round, or stack. You take a major gamble with both. In golf, you gamble on your lie, the wind, your technique. In poker, it’s your cards, your skill, and your mind reading skills. It’s an emotional roller-coaster ride whichever game you choose. 

My husband and I enjoy both, especially when we’re playing each other. Does that mean we’re both gamblers? Sure. We’ve known it all along. After all, we took a heck of a gamble getting married after only five months of knowing each other. Marriage can certainly be a roller-coaster, but when in doubt, we always split the pot!   

Giant Squid “1″: Cymbria “1″

I woke up this morning just as the giant squid dragged my head under the waves. I was limp, accepting of my fate. I’d lost the fight against those horrible slimy tenticles. I’d almost made it across the water too. So close.

What a way to start the day.

Well, I’ve already had my revenge. ~This~ was the main story on the yahoo.ca home page when I turned on my laptop.

I am at one with the universe, and it’s got my back.

Coming soon

Coming soon…