wrap-up

End of year in Japan means cleaning for days and giving gift sets involving towels and everyday items in an attractively wrapped box. The idea is to thank people for all they've done for you over the year and to continue a positive relationship, all with a clean house. The cleaning is meant to be a fresh start, to get all the bad parts of the year out with a little elbow grease and household cleaner. There's something reassuring about having a fresh start from year to year.

I have mixed feelings about 2009. In some ways it was OK. I have been more adult-like with a few of the relationships I've been in, ending on an OK note or trying to be rational or the like. I'm starting to feel like a professional in parts of my work life. Some of my friendships have been strengthened. But it was also and extremely sad year, heartbreaking. Losing both my grandparents is still something I have a hard time with, regardless of how old they were. This year has been filled with bouts of depression, extended and damaging, and it still frustrates me that I haven't figured it out. That I haven't figured me out.

How old do you have to be to know yourself? To be OK with the good and bad parts?

I've booked myself a little weekender to Las Vegas in February. The hope is to meet my friend for a visit and drink and dance with other soulies when the cabin fever normally hits its worst. I'm slightly worried it won't work out, that he won't get his shit together, but hopeful because others are planning for him and because I have to be. Regardless, I'm hoping the neon museum is viewable despite it being closed (awesome timing, as usual) and maybe a few other wee surprises. Time to get to sewing my '60s dresses in time for showcasing around Freemont.

Tomorrow I'm going to my friends' wedding, a new experience for traditionally uneventful New Years' Eves. Am hopeful it will be a good time, which might be the best way to end the year: hopeful.

off-season

It feels like I'm in slo-mo, barely moving enough to be considered live-action. My parents' house, warm and cozy with actual heat that wakes me up in the morning, moves at a much slower speed than my regular life.

The holidays have been OK. My family is in one piece, well and fine and good. I got to see my Auntie Mary and a few cousins and realise that, as the years go by, they may become more important than ever. My parents see a couple of my cousins often: my dad spends part of almost every day at Jimmy's; my mom sees or talks to Elaine at least 5 or 6 times a week. These cousins are there should my parents need anything immediately. I've told them more than once how grateful I am that they are there for my parents when I can't be.

As I age I realise that I probably messed up my life. When I get older, to my parents' ages and older, who will I rely on for help? Will anyone be there?

Holidays really mess me up. They make me more reflective than I feel comfortable with and remind me that things won't always be like this, for better or worse. I've been trying to not get on my siblings' nerves, but had a minor fight with my sister about her not helping my mom with something and told off my brother because he was overstepping his welcome with some of his behaviour. My parents are happy to have us all here; I am wishing for the next visit I can have them to myself. Things are much easier when I don't resent how little my siblings seem to care about my parents.

My mom and I discussed Wii yesterday and agreed that I would buy one and they can visit and try it out to see if they like it. Mom wants an alternative to the gym and Dad has been complaining about his weight now that golf season is over, and none of us want him to sneak cigarettes in the wooden garage anymore. With a tiny bit of money from my grandfather, I figure I can splurge for this and see how the exercise games are for my parents. In theory I would love for my parents to be able to play video games for exercise, but I have a few hours of research to undertake on how seniors' mobility improves with the Wii. I need peer-reviewed research one way or the other. (This is the sort of nerd I've become. Or maybe I was always like this a bit.)

I've watched loads of "What not to wear," "Top chef," "Extreme makeover: Home edition," "LA Ink" and Star Wars movies (since when has Star Wars become easier to find on TV than A Christmas story?). I've nearly gotten my fill of holiday filler.

Tonight I'm going over to the basement of my parents' church for a fiddler/violinist who is in town visiting his grandfather. This seems completely random to me, but I'm playing loose and if my mom wants to go then I probably will go with. I'm not sure I can watch any more TV marathons right now.

Mom and I were working on chicken paprika for dinner and I have to run to help with the nukelin (spatzle). This is my favourite meal ever and I'm so excited.

sock dreams

My feet are currently sporting ballet trompe l'oeil socks, coordinated with a pink cardi. I desperately wanted to wear some new tights I picked up yesterday, but my legs are too long/fat to safely wear them all day. This is disappointing.

One of my co-workers couldn't wait until tomorrow to give me a gift after seeing today's socks. She insisted I open it immediately. I now have hilarious/awesome reindeer slipper socks with the sticky bit on the bottom. I like them quite a bit; they're nothing I would have bought for myself, but fun from someone else.

The urge to search out new socks is great, but I must refrain. Pennies must be saved for grander endeavours, possibly of the travel variety.

a hole

Sometimes I suspect I'm the most terrible person alive. Right now... one of those times.

My friend invited me to a housewarming party in January. I knew immediately that I didn't want to go, that I hate most of his friends and don't really like his girlfriend when she soapboxes me. And yet I was just hoping to accidentally double-book. No such luck. I had to tell him that I couldn't be around people that I don't like, that I was freaked out about going to his housewarming. He said he understood, that people drift apart and I was still welcome to visit anytime I want to.

The problem is that I'm not sure why we were ever friends. I can't remember. So much of our friendship was a sexual tension that was appeased ages ago, and since then things haven't ever been the same. It makes me sad, but maybe women and men aren't really meant to be friends without some subconscious attraction.

Not to say that I want to do it with all my male friends or anything. That's not the case. But there's some sort of attraction with the people I like to spend time with, not necessarily sexual, but something, and maybe sometimes that attraction just dissipates with time. I don't really know, but it hurts my heart. It hurts to lose friends and have someone I once was so close to just not be near me at all anymore. Is it me? Is it him? Was it inevitable?

I just don't know. But I do know that my heart is cracked and oozing uncontrolled feelings that don't seem to be clotting at all.

she's a brick and i'm drowning slowly

People sometimes confide in me and, while I like being the pinnacle of discretion, sometimes the weight is so great. I have many, many secrets, but I wonder... If I had a secret that I needed help with, what would I do?

Really, with Christmas and all, it's the whole fear of immaculate conception that comes to mind. What the hell would I do if I was unwittingly impregnated without my knowledge? Who would I get to help with my predicament? Because, let's face it, pretty much no one would believe me. Immaculate conception? Puh-leeeeeeaze. They'd start tossing out names of people I may have accidentally breathed near who could have gotten me pregnant, completely excusing the fact that they know you can't get pregnant from sharing a soda at the pharmacy or by looking at someone's junk (right?).

Whenever my lady time is late by a day or two (doesn't happen often; I'm like clockwork) I start to freak out. Because, you know, this could be the month of spontaneous immaculate conception. And with no one believing me, I have no idea who could get me out of this whole scenario.

I'm not pregnant, if you were wondering. I'm just thinking about this whole thing in general, since Christmas is less than a week away. Did Joseph really believe Mary? What did Mary's parents think? The gossipy women down the way? Is that why they were on the move on the back of the donkey? No one believed her and they were cast out?

Just know that, if I should be unexpectedly preggers, I'll call you and ask, "You know that song 'Brick' by Ben Folds? Ya, that's me."

unseasonally

Last night was supposed to be the big snow storm of the season. By the time I got into Vancouver, it was raining and has been since. I didn't have a problem getting in to work today, and giving myself two hours to get to my other job is far more generous than necessary. Hopefully.

Only 10 days to Christmas, but I haven't done a thing for it. Too many other things to do, like visit with friends.

Last week my dear friends Dulcie, Nels and wee Hugo were in town from Edmonton and we got to hang out a couple of days. Thursday after work we had a visit and headed to Burgoo for eats. I had a soup and sandwich combo, which sounds pretty uneventful, but the chicken and corn chipotle soup was amazing and the three cheese grilled cheese was so tasty. We each had strawberry lemonade and shared a sticky toffee pudding. It literally took hours to get through our meal, but was a nice place to cozy up and catch up. Saturday we spent most of the day together, catching breakfast at 3 Lions on Broadway and hitting a craft sale on Main before popping to Rachel and Nathan's for a cookie party. So many kids, but they were fun and it was nice to see a few friends I don't get to see very often. We followed that up with a trip to Japadog and then headed back to their hotel to rest. We watched an episode of "Birds of Prey" (so melodramatic) and then they drove me homeward. A very nice visit.

Friday after work I went to a work party. It was kind of dull, as everyone seems to be either boring or keeping up appearances. Our table didn't get rowdy, but at least we appeared to have a pulse. I wasn't sad at all when my co-worker/ride suggested we could leave around 9:30. I was ready to go at 8.

Sunday I worked at Langara and it was pretty slow. The last week of exams is pretty uneventful, so I didn't do much reference, and the task for the day wasn't particularly engaging. I did get to see a couple of co-workers that I really like, so that was good. My contract boss picked me up to go to our director's house for an open house. I was going for the food, as I assumed she'd have hors d'oeuvres. She did, and they were so tasty. Pancetta-wrapped chipotle shrimp, three mushroom and carmelised onion packets, mac & cheese balls, stuffed mushroom caps, mini cheese quiches, cheesecake pops... It was all quite fantastic. I talked mainly with a new colleague who is into the same sorts of music as me, so it was fun to talk about music with someone. The house was an interesting design, right off Pt.Grey Road, designed by a prominent interior designer. Fantastic artwork, astonishing view.

This week I'm riding the Stanley Park train, hopefully while drunk; attending another, better work dinner (excited!!!); working my first shift in months at VPL; popping to my friends' house after they finish moving (such a cruel friend I am, planning work on their recently-planned move day) for a BBQ; and trying to get everything together for Christmas (like gifts or baking or something) in less than 4 days. When are stores having their midnight shopping?

oh, no you di'in't

I have someone passive-aggressiving me at work and it's totally annoying. Fine, you don't like that I changed the bookmark you did in PowerPoint (who designs anything in PowerPoint anyway?). I get it. You don't have to keep telling me over and over how I messed up your design. The design I was told I'm responsible for. The design I would rather do myself because I like to change how things look. Like using the same font consistently. Like changing the colours from fuchsia to red. You're not going to get more sympathy from me the more you say crap about what I shouldn't have done. I'm going to hold my tongue instead of saying how stupid it is to design bookmarks in PowerPoint. Because it's really, really stupid. Really.

sunrise, sunset

For almost two weeks, I have to make up extra hours for one of the days I was sick. It means functioning almost completely in darkness (dark when I go to work, dark when I leave work), but the real kicker is the lack of sleep when I have to wake up at 6am or earlier. The days of being able to function on 3 or 4 hours of sleep are gone.

The saving grace for early mornings is that I almost get to see the sunrise when the weather is fine. These days of clear coldness make for bright horizons with tinges of pinks and oranges illuminating the navy mornings. I like morning light, even when it's just a teasing idea. One morning the colours made me catch my breath, the sharp reds and oranges puncturing holes in the distant charcoal clouds.

Saturday I met Rachel for floats and BLTs, in that order, the sandwiches acting as dessert (mmmm.... baaaacon....), and a good chat about stuff and things. Later I met my sister for sushi and the Giants game. I bought a couple of teddy bears for the Teddy Bear Toss; she didn't really "get" why I would do that. The game was pretty fast, but the Giants didn't score until near the end of the 1st period. People had gotten pretty antsy (the toss part comes when the Giants score their first goal), so the place totally errupted with flying faux fur carcasses. My sister, showing no emotions or interest through the whole evening, smiled at the piles and piles of toys on the ice. Getting hit in the back of the head with soft stuffed things made her laugh. It was pleasing.

Yesterday I met my sister to buy bus tickets home for Christmas. My dad has become increasingly concerned with the Hope-Princeton and strongly offered to pay for our bus tickets home. I finally mentioned it to my sister and she agreed because she has to buy new tires anyway. I went to Fabricland to buy some stuff (50% off pretty much everything) and came away with three cuts of fabric and some notions. Last evening I went to Brittany's for dinner since she's on a home cooking kick. We had a really good Thai soup and caught up on her trip and stuff. Just after I got there, I got a weird call from a guy I was seeing earlier in the year, who just stopped talking to me despite having common friends. I couldn't talk, so I'm extremely curious to see why he called. Boys are an enigma to me; I don't understand them at all.

a man in uniform

Work has its higher points. Today was the fire officer graduation, which in and of itself is not that impressive. But the man I think is so attractive was dressed in his officer dress uniform... Gosh, he's lovely. One of my other co-workers noticed him first, coming down the stairs, and commented how nicely he was dressed. They didn't really know that I have a crush on him, but they do now. My gushing "but he's so nice" probably gave that away. One co-worker mentioned that he always seems sort of flustered; maybe that's the part that is attractive. Still, not a chance.

Today I IMed more than I have in ages, with three convos popping up within minutes of each other at one time. It makes me feel less alone when people actually talk to me, so it was nice to talk with people today. Granted, two of them dropped out of (partially tentative) plans, but two did set plans as well, so that's something. Tomorrow evening I'm going to the Giants game (the teddy bear toss) with my sister and Monday I'm meeting my chum Joe from school. A rare Saturday night out.

Tonight, though, I just didn't feel like going to a show alone, but didn't feel like doing all those things I should do around the house. I sit and worry about my pipes bursting again, something I'll likely worry about as long as I live here and the weather starts to cool. Why couldn't they just wrap the stupid pipes up in insulation, even though they didn't put any in the walls?

But soon starts the season of holiday cheer and all that. Work parties and friends from far flung places and all that. Good times.

omg it's a barrage

A strange observation: when I'm happy at work, I'm generally pretty healthy. I eat well, I manage to put together balanced meals and drink enough water and exercise a little bit everyday. I don't really get sick when I feel like work is good.

I haven't been back to work yet. My sleeping patterns have been messed up, leaving me wide awake at 2am and with 2 or 3 hours sleep under my belt by the time the alarm goes off. Today I was in the shower and my head was pounding, my intestines churned, and I decided I wasn't strong enough to do my commute today. It worries me that I'm taking this job for granted like I am. Am I really ill or am I making myself ill?

Tomorrow I'm going in. There is no question. I just need to figure out how to feel healthier and get in the right state to enjoy this job more. It's a pivotal job for me and if I fuck it up I'm going to have to find a new profession. No one will hire me if I don't do well with this contract. And I wish I were being dramatic; a huge number of entry jobs require less than 2 years experience and the others require huge skill sets that can only come from working full-time. Maybe that's making me sick. When this contract ends I'll be in that weird limbo state, more than 2 years experience without a full-time job, and I'm not sure I'm doing well enough in this job to get me work after it's done. Maybe the stress thinking about all this is making my body shut down. Maybe I'm sabotaging my future self.

On the upside, I've still got Tylenol 3s and shredded a majority of the stuff that needed to be shredded. And I'm so close to getting my sewing machine set up again.

mending, but slowly

Today is the first time in days that I've been able to breathe through my mouth without coughing. It's a red banner day.

The cold hit me around 10:30am on Wednesday. I can pinpoint the approximate time because I though I was having an allergic reaction to the sunflower seeds I was covertly eating at my desk (they were dill pickle and are very tasty, but sort of disgusting to eat while typing on a computer near windows where everyone that passes by can see through). By the end of the day I was miserable. It didn't help that I had to wait for almost an hour for the first bus in a torrential downpour. My feet were wet, I was cold, and I knew I'd have to get reinforcements for the next few days. By the time I got home almost 3 hours after work, I was feeling like crap and promptly fell asleep, completely missing the Hidden Cameras show. That sucked. Missing my friend's wedding reception on Friday also sucked. Double sucked.

Because I had to teach a library skills class on Thursday afternoon, I went into work. A couple of co-workers were not very happy with me, but my options were few since no one else could/wanted to do the class. By the end of the class (talking for an hour when you want to rip your throat out is hell), I was ready to go home. I left a half hour early, but my boss drove me home to my door, which was nice. I drank my bodyweight in tea and lost my appetite. (I wish I would lose my appetite more often. It would make things so much easier.)

I have somehow managed to pull myself together a little bit and get on with stuff. I started on one of the major projects that needs to be done, so hopefully the momentum will get me through a few of them. If I want limoncello by Christmas (and I do) I am a month late. But I have time for a variety of candy and cookies and cakes (but no room in the freezer to store anything) and maybe some homemade bacon for friends who will be moving in a few weeks.

The idea of getting ready for Christmas is hilarious to me. I'm just trying to get through the next couple of weeks in one piece.

not all puppy dogs and rainbows...

...but close.

Basically no one will ever know this otherwise, but I've just unveiled my new winter pyjamas for the season. I kind of like that they all look either wide awake or terrifyingly shocked about something. They are little comforting friends that I crush on a nightly basis. These replace the fall line, the cherry blossom pyjamas from JoeFresh that I have grown to love.

Pyjamas are kind of strange to me. Until last month, I'd never bought pyjamas before. I hadn't even gotten pyjamas as a gift or as a replacement or anything since I was around 12. But an ex-boyfriend once commented that my scrubs were not appropriate sleeping attire ("they look like you found them in a dumpster") and I should update my sleeping wardrobe. I, of course, continued to wear scrubs to piss him off and now they require more constant fixing than I can keep up with. Thus the fall/winter line.

Were I not a cold sleeper, this wouldn't even come up. But I am always cold and have come to rely on warm pyjamas to keep my body temperature up. These ones are no Auntie Mame-style silk Chinese pyjamas or anything, but to me they're close.

tipping point

The only thing I found to do this weekend was go to the cemetery by myself to learn about dead people, and I talked myself out of going because of my state.

My house is beginning to resemble a hoarder's home, full of piles of things that someone with hoarding issues just leaves in the hopes it will disappear on its own. The projects for this fall, some that are extremely timely and that are overdue to be done, sit in piles untouched and remind me of my failure to come through on them. I have no interest in cooking for myself at all; I wish Meals-on-wheels were available for 36-year-olds. When I looked in the mirror tonight I realised that I am becoming an old-looking woman. I didn't even bother getting out of my pyjamas today because there didn't seem to be any point. I think I may be in the process of giving up.

And it may just be that "Sense and Sensibility" is on and I'm identifying with Eleanor especially today (except for the part when her life turns out as she'd hoped) and it's just one of those days. But I think, since this latest birthday, I really don't see the point of much a lot of the time anymore.

The people around me have lives that are always evolving, with new relationships and engagements and marriages, new jobs, new children to love, new houses. Notable things. Longlasting things. And it's good to know people who have lives that are meaningful and fulfilling and who are content. I just don't know why they would want to be friends with me sometimes. All I bring is superficiality, and at some point, possibly quite soon, they will see that I'm not bringing much to our friendship; some already have cut their losses. I don't want to be the friend that they listen to and, after I'm gone, hug their loved ones a little closer, comforted that their lives are more pleasing than mine.

If the psychics over the years are right, this could be my midlife crisis. If they're wrong... then I just don't know. I realised I'll be 37 next year and it made me feel really strange, really empty. Really old for the first time. It feels like a more severe reverse culture shock. I think my temporary job is killing me.

emptying the pockets

You'd think, after the enormous KitchenAid mixer purchase of Friday the 13th, I'd have a tighter grip on my purse strings. Alas, this is not so.

When I leave my house, trouble ensues. When I stay home, I don't really spend much money unless I see postings for new cookbooks that look awesome.

Yesterday I went out for all of two hours and came home with fabric for a dress and a bunch of groceries. I did discover that the new London Drugs near Cambie on Broadway carries Baconnaise, which is just the sweetest discovery of the week. (OK, maybe the second sweetest.) Last night I didn't do anything, but did order a couple of books that I've had my eye on for a bit: Ad Hoc at home and Field guide to candy. That should have been the end of the insanity.

I made plans with Jill to go to the 21st Century Flea Market at the Croatian Cultural Centre this morning. I just thought it would be a fun way to spend the morning/early afternoon, checking to see if I could find pigskin trays (it's the one thing I never find at flea markets/charity shops/thrift stores). Tangiene came as well and we got there shortly after it opened. I was doing fine, and was easily able to crush those feelings of longing for coloured Pyrex and Pyrex pouring bowls and pineapple Fire King mugs and all the sparkly costume jewelry. Then I saw it: a rather large set of china that was nearly perfectly perfect, except no soup/rim bowls.

It's a pattern I've seen before and admired, though generally just a couple of pieces and not nearly the set I saw. When the guy said it was $60 for the whole set... I walked around for a bit thinking about it, but kind of knew that it was a done deal if it was still there when I got back there. It's Foley Fern china and the set included:
- 7 dinner plates
- 8 salad plates
- 6 dessert plates
- 6 saucers
- 5 cups
- a gravy boat and plate
- 2 serving bowls
- large serving platter

The little touch of pink inside the bowls and cups really sold it. I love silver and pink more than a woman of my age should. And, considering the gravy boat and plate alone goes for around $35, I'm feeling pretty comfortable with the set.

Now, if only I had a tree of money, I wouldn't be internally freaking out about money right now.

under the duvet

This was supposed to be the year of doing stuff alone. It hasn't really turned out that way.

I have a ticket to a rock show tonight, a dancing show, and I want nothing more than to lay curled up under my duvet. I keep putting off leaving for it, to the point that I'm getting close to being too late. In the past, just having a ticket was incentive enough to go to shows that I'd lost enthusiasm for. Now... now I just hem and haw about it, deciding not to go even though it would probably be a fun show. There's still a slim chance, I suppose, but the thought of battling with American Apparel kids makes my tummy sick. Dancing shows alone are just not a whole lot of fun.

After work today I headed downtown for a dress sale that was even more than disappointing. Not a single dress did I like, which is pretty unheard of. I decided to check out the china department, only to discover there's nothing there. No dresses, no china... Off to housewares to make sense of the insanity of the department store. I looked at popcorn poppers, including one extremely similar to the one my mom had when I was a kid. I also like to look at stand mixers, just in case there's something new and exciting to see. Generally I just sigh and hang my head because I can't afford them. Today I happened to see some older KitchenAid models on for, like, $240 off. There was a black one and I thought to myself, well, no point waiting for wedding gifts because that's never going to happen, so might as well... Might as well drop a few hundred bucks for something I've been longing for for years. Might as well spend my meager wage on something I'll love, even though my savings are low. Might as well put all my eggs into a shiny chrome bowl and mix the crap out of them on 10.

The KitchenAid, the iron pot, the china settings... these are the things to keep me company when I become a shut-in, avoiding shows I have tickets for. We will all sit under the duvet, the cold metal and porcelain making goose bumps on my arms as I hold them close to me. We will have tea parties and make bread and roast chickens together, just them and me.

OMG, I'm watching a video of The Horrors and they're, like, so my ex-boyfriend of '92. Hair and all. Fake-sounding British accent included. So weird to see my life replayed by kids half my age. Proof it's all over for me; I've been replaced. I'm finding the fuzzy shoegazing revival really hard to get used to.

organ lottery

Just finished watching Independent Lens on PBS. Tonight's film made me bawl, complete with snotty nose and hiccups. "D Tour" is about Pat Spurgeon of Rogue Wave's failing kidney and hunt for a living donor while continuing to tour with the band. Imagine dialysis on the road. It was amazing and inspiring and heartbreaking...

One of the potential donors was his then-bandmate's wife, who was adamant that she wanted to give him one of her kidneys. She was ruled out because of a kidney stone, but the dialogue she and her husband had set the stage for his unexpected death and subsequent organ donation to four recipients. Watching her meet two of the recipients really set off the waterworks.

Over the years I've had the forms to become an organ donor and the thing that keeps stopping me is a stupid thing: it asks for your SIN number. Like, my privacy has meant more to me than organ donation. I haven't trusted that the people who manage human organs can keep a stupid SIN number from falling into the wrong hands. It seems so stupid because it is so stupid. It feels like it's time to revisit those forms and register.

shredded

A long time ago two of my oldest friends came to my house because I wouldn't go outside for weeks at a time except to work. They were concerned. They staged a bit of an intervention, forcing me outside while they cleaned up my house and made me eat beef and basically tried to shake me out of the weird funk I was in. Things were better after that; I moved less than 6 months later and went to university and things were different.

I find myself slinking back into that state every so often. Usually I'll come home one day and realise the house is out of control and that I have hours of shredding ahead of me and it's time to take stuff to the charity shop and the dust bunnies behind the couch are the size of a small cat. Sometimes I just move and rely on others' disapproval to shame me into getting it together. Surveying the room right now... It might be getting close to that weird stage again.

Admittedly, it's been worse here than it is now. But I'm supposed to have my shit together now. I'm not supposed to have signs of cracking. And yet... There they are.

Clutter experts say that a cluttered home is a cluttered mind. Apparently depression has a direct correlation to the state of one's home. I'm not feeling depressed, at least not to the extent I have in the past, yet my house indicates something is not right.

--------------

Yesterday I went to Fabricland for $2 Simplicity patterns (I bought 5) and half price bargain centre fabric (I bought 7 metres, three different, for $14). Ridiculous. But I'm feeling a bit mod lately and wanted to get some patterns/fabric to expand my dress repertoire. (I don't look mod in any way except for maybe my legwear, which is not enough to declare I'm a mod, because I don't listen to enough northern soul for that to be true. I don't even own a The New Constitution album!) Two of the patterns are retro (one '50s, the other '60s), two are retro-ish and the third is just sort of cute casual.

Following that I rode the bus forever and went to Rich and Christy's for dinner and a hangout. We had a lively discussion with his sister and her boyfriend about ghosts and premonitions and believing in encounters or not believing or whatever. It was pretty fun and I had to drag myself away just before 11pm so I could get up for work.

Which reminds me... I should go to bed.

the fear of what-ifs

Daniel Johnston's "True love will find you in the end" has been running through my head and it's making me almost crazy, as usual. I have a weird sinking feeling this time, though, that maybe I'm doomed and he's wrong.

Earlier this week I met my friend Simone to see Coco Avant Chanel at Fifth Ave. We'd been talking about it for ages, so were pretty keyed up for it. It was a decent movie, revealing little about Chanel that I didn't already know, but seeing the drama of her life recreated was interesting. The actor who played Boy Capel... He was smouldering. Alessandro Nivola's little moustache and penetrating eyes made us swoon. But it was the relationship between Boy and Chanel that sort of floored me.

Again, it wasn't a surprise at all, but for some reason it really hit me. I used to think she was terrible for carrying on with a married man for so long, but now... Not that I think she was right to be involved with him, but I understand now why it went on so long. Sometimes it just so happens that the person you're meant for is married to someone else.

I can't help thinking of Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. Desk Set is again fresh in my mind and it's still sad to me that they had to hide their relationship for so long because he wouldn't divorce his estranged wife. Another reason to resent Vatican II.

The thing that has been making me feel so uncomfortable the last few days is that the worry I used to carry around with me is back. My dearest friend and I have had a rocky relationship over the years, the worst of it when he got married without telling me. The similarity to the Boy/Chanel relationship was not lost on me. But the thing that I've always been worried about was that something would happen to him and I wouldn't know. But I've really tried not to think of that and just be content that our friendship is active and we are OK. Boy's car accident hit a bit too close to my heart. The worry is back.

grrr...

One thing that is missing in my life is a rain boot that fits and looks cute. My old rain boots are starting to leak and my work rain boots are too painful to wear longer than a couple blocks at a time. (The last time I wore them I thought, sure, I can walk 14 blocks to work... The blisters that formed after 8 blocks informed me otherwise.) It only becomes obvious of this lack of foot security on days like today. Or yesterday. Or one of those other days that had a lot of rain.

Today I actually felt more than lazy, if that's possible. Slothlike? Perhaps. I went to bed around midnight last night, but this morning didn't want to get out of bed. So I didn't until noon. I was actually shocked when I opened my eyes and saw the clock. But maybe my body just needed a longer rest. I decided to see if I could return some pants I got a few weeks ago (they're a touch too big), but couldn't find the size I need, so just gave up and bought a bunch of on-sale tights. I look forward to continuing to kick my co-worker's ass with my awesome legwear. (Apparently she used to have the most interesting legwear/footwear, but I've usurped her. If weird things start happening to me at work I'll know it's her getting revenge.) Two plaid pairs and two magenta pairs. I'm excited to wear them.

Tonight I went to Rachel & Nathan's for dinner and a hangout before Rachel and I took Augusten to the Thunderbirds/Golden Bears hockey game at UBC. I almost felt bad for UBC because the Golden Bears neatly clobbered them. It was 2-0 when we got there and was 8-1 by the time the game was over. I felt no fear cheering for the UofA because, really, UBC doesn't seem to get very excited about anything. I still feel more like a Golden Bear than a Thunderbird. Augie kept it together and stayed awake, despite us leading him astray and keeping him up two hours past bedtime, but it might have been the popcorn and cookies he kept shoving in his mouth to stave off boredom. He cheered on the T-Birds and I openly mocked him which probably wasn't a very nice thing to do to a 4 1/2-year old.

Last night I went to see Bishop Allen with my friend David at the Media Club. It was pretty good, but, even though it was an early show, I just couldn't stay awake. And people around us were annoying me for no real reason; just that they were. Some girl made some snotty comment about me standing in front of her and I just looked at her unimpressed and continued to stand in exactly the spot I was standing. Maybe I'm too old for rock shows, which is unfortunate since I have tickets to the Shout Out Out Out Out show next week and Hidden Cameras at the end of the month.

they say it's your birthday

What a lovely day!

The weather was ridiculous, sunny and pretty warm, and the light was amazing. Fall light is superior to most other times of the year, the crispness makes colours a little sharper.

Today I met up with a few girlfriends for a quick coffee, chat, and matinee of The September Issue. It was so fun to see them, especially Sara in from Victoria, and the movie was pretty fun. I mean, it isn't heavy-hitting drama or anything, but I totally admired Grace Coddington and love watching process. I dislike Anna Wintour less than before (reading a couple of biographies about her painted a dreadful picture of her) and continue to love Andre Leon Talley. Seriously, that man is just so fabulous.

Yesterday was a decent birthday, as far as birthdays that aren't noteworthy go. I was back at work and my co-workers played an amusing Beatles animated video for my birthday. I got to see my friend graduate from cop training, which was pretty interesting. The formal suits for police are quite sharp and seeing all the police cadets and graduates, as well as a fair number of field officers, was pretty overwhelming. Lots of eye candy. Dangerous, untouchable eye candy. After work Terry picked me up and we went to Grub for dinner. I seriously love Grub; it's always tasty and I should get paid for how much/often I gush about it. We were seated beside my boss and her husband (I knew they had reservations, but it was funny to be beside nonetheless). We both had the 5-spice sirloin steak with horseradish cream, wilted spinach salad with vinaigrette, and homemade gnocchi with Roquefort cream sauce. SO DELICIOUS. I didn't even have dessert because I was so pleasantly full. Then we wandered over to The Main to meet Kathy and her friends for a drink. It was very pleasant, one of the more pleasant birthdays in recent memory, largely because I didn't have to plan anything to rival Hallowe'en. I'm so over competing with Hallowe'en for the attention of my friends.

This week will be action-packed. My sister won Canucks tickets for Tuesday night, so we're going to (hopefully) watch the Canucks destroy the Rangers. Wednesday I'm meeting my friend Simone for Coco Avant Chanel. Thursday there are a couple of shows I haven't bought tickets for, but could if I got my act together. Saturday is the battle between my alma maters' hockey teams: the T-Birds vs. the Golden Bears. I always cheer for the Golden Bears because my time at the U of A was so much more memorable than my time at UBC. And the Golden Bears usually win. A rare week of stuff to do.

Now I just need to continue to fight off the sickness.

silly dresses on silly women

I've been home sick the last couple of days and going a bit nuts. Not that I'm sick-sick; I'm just tired and have body aches and want to clear my throat occasionally. My throat isn't sore, my head and nose aren't stuffed, my lungs are clear. But the tiredness and soreness and the headache yesterday and this morning kept me home. No one in my tiny office wants to be sick and if I go in sick there's nowhere for them to hide.

While home, I've been watching more vacuous TV than I've ever watched in my life. I've only recently discovered the crap channels I have above channel 28 and have been sausaged in a duvet, immobile, while my brain was filled with silly girls who speak in monotones, who flip their hair more than a normal person should, who make everything more dramatic than it really is.

Does anyone actually believe that "The Hills" and/or "The City" are real? Because they aren't. Like, at all. And it amuses me that anyone bothers to pretend it is. I've been catching the odd "Sex and the City" and "Queer Eye..." and these shows amuse me in a different way. There are other shows that have absorbed my day, but they are just embarassing to admit to.

I'm hoping to go into work tomorrow (I don't have sick days so if I don't work I don't get paid) and make it through the week without incident so I can see a matinee on Saturday. My plan was to see The September Issue last night, but that didn't happen and so now it is set for the weekend. I am so excited to see it. SO excited.

"ANTM" is on and I feel compelled to waste the remainder of the evening. My ability to make rational decisions was destroyed when I sat through most of a "Rachel Zoe Project" episode. Back to the cotton sausage.

don't tell anyone, but I've got a run in my stocking

One thing I've realised and am not all together happy about... Cary Grant wasn't always an attractive, suave man.

My love affair with him started with An Affair To Remember because of the whole longing angle. The Empire State scenes, later destroyed by Sleepless in Seattle, made my 1997 trip there a little more memorable (or it could have been my travel companion). Lately I've been watching more movies that he's in and my gaze is shifting slightly. In The Philadelphia Story he had moments of dreaminess, but the dreadful collarless jacket he wore at the end kind of shocked me. That was more or less forgotten with Holiday until I reviewed the cover. He just looked kind of weird on the cover. And how quickly he started making out with the sister. What a manwhore.

What's funny about the movies I've been watching is that they all have Cary Grant and/or Jimmy (James) Stewart and Katherine Hepburn. Damn, they dressed her well. How ridiculously thin that woman was. Ridiculously. And yet I don't hate her in the way I sometimes hate ridiculously thin, beautiful women. Maybe it's the dresses.

With my parents' plane being delayed an extra hour-and-a-half, I've got some time to kill. I don't want to keep watching movies because they're making me kind of depressed. Because in almost all of them, the women wear high heels and floor-length gowns in the middle of the day and have parties until 4am and have fabulous parties involving trapeze bars. That, unfortunately, doesn't reflect my life.

I had a small dinner party last evening and barely wore a skirt (it was corduroy, rather than me being a slut who couldn't keep my skirt on), but my clogs probably don't really equal high heels. And people didn't even last past 10pm. It became horribly apparent that I am not glamourous or interesting or a spitfire like Kate Hepburn. No, I'm just the sort that can maybe feed people, but not entertain them. And, on top of that, 10pm was too late for me to get downtown to see Dead Man's Bones, so I lost on all counts.

There's nothing I want to do more than sleep until sometime in November.

avoiding the yawnies

The day that I get a full night's sleep, I mess myself up by avoiding my home for as long as I can.

I left my house at 7:40am, worked my day, hightailed it to my other job to work for a few hours (sick replacement), and will head to a show tonight at the Black Frog. I will be surprised if I'm home by 1am.

What I planned to do tonight wasn't exciting or anything, but it was a plan. But part of my lesson is to figure out how to roll with the punches. Being flexible means long days, but can also mean awesome.

the fear

How I wish I were more interested in making jam. I really, really do.

I've been meaning to make jam for more than a week and it hasn't happened. One of the things stopping me is that I have to actually go and buy canning supplies and I don't really want to. I don't want to because I'd have to drive. I don't want to drive because this city freaks the crap out of me.

When I visit my parents I am the only person who drives. Mom and Dad prefer me to drive; Dad says it's to keep me in practice, Mom just doesn't like to drive unless she has to. While they're away they've left me their truck with expressed instructions to drive it around. I'm just such a chickenshit. I'm afraid of driving alone in the city because I'm totally not used to it and am worried that someone is going to smash into me because I'm not doing something right and that would be very, very bad. Sigh.

So the man that I think is really attractive at work popped in to see if I could find some electronic links to printed copies of reports he got from somewhere. It seriously took me about a minute to find and send off the links, and I had to drop off the printed copies that he left with me. Five emails passed between us in less than two minutes to organise. He has the sweetest office above the institute's president with a nice view of the surrounding area. He kept wheeling towards me, but never got out of his chair (he's quite a tall man). We had a short, amusing conversation about throwing parties in his office and getting busted by the cops who have offices down the hall. When I got back to the office I mentioned the sweet office and my boss said something about him being cute and I agreed that, yes, he's an adorable man. And she said she'd have to figure out a way to bump into him to see if he's single for me. I am afraid.

Speaking of men I have no chance with, I'm half debating buying a ticket for Dead Man's Bones for Saturday. But I'm also supposed to have people over for dinner, so chances are that's not going to happen. Guess I should see if they're coming over...

Sometimes I'm a thumping bore.

making it happen

At some point in the last 24 hours I thought it would be a good idea to invite my friends over for dinner. This is amusing because I haven't been for groceries for more than a couple days and haven't even finished sorting out my kitchen and where everything should go. But still, I invited people over.

It was fine. I worked until 5 and then picked up the stuff I needed, and threw it all together (almost literally). Managed to sort of make it look like my apartment wasn't a complete mess. They brought wine and I joined them without any major mishap and they really liked what I made (prosciutto-wrapped chicken and garlic roasted potatoes with a pear & goat cheese salad). I'm pretty sure that I should invite people over more often, but always have some concern that people will just be polite even when it isn't that good. (In this instance, the mmmmms made me think they were either being honest or they're really good at faking.) Maybe I'll make that my new year's resolution: invite people over for food more often.

I didn't get around to throwing together the apple cake I wanted to make, but depleted the freezer supply of baking and now have to do some baking. Baking!

The wine... wine usually makes me physically ill and I thought it was some sort of allergy, but I managed OK tonight and topped off the wine with some beer and, still, everything seems fine. But I do desperately want to sleep, though it is almost 1am and I'm used to being in bed by about 10:30pm.

My friend told me a funny story about an UFC guy who has to do community service in Vancouver and is doing two hours of that community service at my workplace (not the library, but the building) on Monday. It involves him talking about ground combat in the gym area and I'm going to see if I can somehow go see what's what before I have to go home. How random and strange.

Tomorrow I'm hoping to get rid of my returnables and maybe drive my parents' truck while they're away (I think they're flying to Egypt right now). And get a bed frame for my bed from my friends and go to the apple festival at the UBC farm. And make some quince jam/jelly after collecting some canning supplies. And deal with the tomatoes that have ripened on my counter. And maybe deal with the fruit my mom brought that is starting to soften, including the nectarines that I'd like to turn into jam. (I gave away a jar of peach jam tonight and should maybe replace it with more.) Busy, busy.

I realise this is rather dull, but I'm also a bit tipsy and don't want to be more interesting right now. To bed!

do you feel lucky?

With the new lottery draw, I've been thinking of dabbling in a ticket this week. I could do a lot with $25 million and I won't have access to that kind of money unless I lose limbs due to someone's negligence (not my own) or win the lottery. But people like me don't win the lottery. It's usually a retired boatmaker or an office full of middle management.

When I was growing up, on Saturday nights we'd have to interrupt our dinner to watch the Western. The Western was a half hour of BC lottery draws and results from the horses (at least I think it had something to do with the horses). My dad regularly played the same numbers, a combination of the birthdays in our family. He may still play the same numbers, I'm not totally sure. Anyway, he never won a huge amount, but occasionally we would hear about the $10 he won. Once I remember getting $100 because he won $500. That was cool. I wouldn't mind winning $100 now.

My friend's brother won $100,000 earlier this year and it was gone in around 6 months. He gave some to his family, paid part of his student loans, and travelled for 3 months. I have no idea how to use $100,000 that quickly. I mean, I could buy an apartment (or a tiny corner of an apartment), but I'm so indecisive with buying shoes that buying an apartment would probably take forever. If I had $25 million... I could be more decisive with that much money.

I'm going to try to dream the winning numbers. I mean, it's a pretty lucky year for me. I won those steaks at the meat draw over the Labour Day weekend... It's not much of a stretch to win $25 million, right?

As an aside, I have a bunch of quince from my friends' house. They have two trees and no idea what to do with them. I have enough for a lot of jam and some tarts/pies, if I get to it. Anyone have experience with quince?

i'll tell you what i do when my day is over

Seriously, sometimes I feel like the biggest fucking loser ever.

Saturday nights I am almost always home. It's a rare night if I'm out. And this isn't by choice or anything so noble. No, it's because my phone doesn't ring, my messages go unanswered, my attempts to socialise are generally thwarted in favour of something better. I am always in conjunction, never the featured attraction. I have come to expect this and so have all but given up on trying. It's a given that all weekends from now until I die crushed underneath a mound of paper that needs shredding will involve me watching TV alone. Good times.

Today I worked a few hours at Langara and came home to continued kitchen issues. Currently my outlets don't work, which means no cooking unless I want to drag my stupid oven into the hallway. The only option is to boil water on the floor or in my bathroom and eat some kimchi noodles I've been saving in case I get sick and don't get a chance to stock up on nourishment (though I refuse to get sick). I've decided that, in light of my surprising situation of being home alone on a Saturday night, I'll instead eat Peek Freans and watch the most romantic (read: depressing) musical movie ever made.

The pack of DVDs I ordered came in yesterday, so I picked them up today and painstakingly peeled them from their cellophane prisons. These are the sort that I can easily watch over and over. Tonight: The Women and possibly (though likely) Les parapluies de Cherbourg. The former is meant to make me want to finish sewing my dresses, the latter I watch as punishment for failing in all relationships I've been in. I got it specifically because it deals with an ill-fated relationship, something I know all too well and feel I need to remind myself of on a constant basis. Really, the colours and clothes look amazing and that it's almost entirely sung is inconsequential (even though I like musicals a great deal). I'm trying desperately to keep myself from Desk Set tonight because it might push me over the edge, forcing me to buy pop and drink Jack & Coke all night. I believe drinking alone until you pass out is a sign that you have a drinking problem.

Do I know how to party or what?

and there is not the slightest excuse for plum or puce — or chartreuse

My head is swimming with visions of dresses. I'm going through a bit of a phase right now that seems to want to extend for a while longer. This week I got "Unzipped" and "Valentino: The Last Emperor" in the post and have watched both this weekend. This has pushed me over the edge a little. I am this close to getting a ticket to "The September Issue" at the VIFF, even though my parents will be at my house waiting for me to organise some dinner and visit before they leave the country. I could just wait for its regular release, which should be in the coming weeks. Patience...

A wee visit to an online retailer has resulted in another 6 (six) DVDs on my credit card. I'm waiting for an intervention.

Actually, these are all things that are just good movies in general, but they're heavy on the good costuming. I have a thing with certain movies specifically because of the clothes. "Funny Face" is one of those movies; "An Affair To Remember" is another. "Breakfast at Tiffany's" goes without saying. I watch these at least a couple times a year, largely because of the clothes. With the purchase of "Desk Set" and a rewatching of "Roman Holiday", I realise that I've been going about things all wrong.

I don't have a very good body for '40s and '50s clothing (or any other era, really, judging by how poorly things fit me), but I love the way the clothes look. And since I have a weird fascination with Edith Head and think Bunny Watson is top-notch (and with her being a librarian), I need to somehow find a way to dress somewhere between the two, only for my body shape. This will be my struggle in coming months/years.

Actually, this week Heather sent me a link to a ridiculous pattern sale. Simplicity and Butterick patterns for $2.99, Vogue patterns for $3.99. Believe me, I poured over them looking to load up on patterns, but I still have 4 1/2 dresses awaiting completion and about a dozen other patterns that still need to be trialled. It was a struggle not to buy any. But there were a couple of vintage suits that I don't think I have (I actually have to doublecheck my stash... I have a feeling I have one of them) and a coupon for 50% off 5 metres of fabric to use by the end of October. That could easily be a Bunny Watson-esque suit. Just the blouse would be the struggle. I think I even have shoes that would do. It would be so good.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned my profound love of Isaac Mizrahi, but it is ON again. I so want to venture to a Target circa 2006 for some of his stuff. Granted, I doubt there would be any of his coloured beast coats of 1995, but one can dream. Even if they would probably make me look like Sweetums. Liz Claiborne makes me feel a bit old, so going back in time would really be better.

daily recap

Today was my last regular day at Langara and it was really sad to leave. Some of my co-workers took me for dim sum at Sun Siu Wah, which was awesome because there were enough of us to have a bunch of stuff and I got my beloved radish cakes. Then toward the end of the day everyone in my office gathered around my desk and gave me a card and an edible gift and played "I Love A Man In Uniform" by Gang of Four, and it was just really, really lovely. (They told me they refused to get a more permanent gift because they expect to see me back there.) I really like working there and am hoping to be able to work Saturdays there because it's just such a good place to work. I feel really fortunate that they seem to like me enough to want me to be there more. We're all hoping something comes up sometime before the end of my contract (or at least right around the time it ends) so I can be back there on a permanent basis. That would be rad.

Unrelated, I was closing up some email stuff from one of my other jobs and noticed a news item about a person who was promoted to the presidency of an association that sounded quite prestigious. I froze and my hand flew to my mouth to stifle the gasp that leapt from my mouth. The man in the news item used to be a priest that I knew through one of our former parish priests. I went to the ceremony when he became a full-fledged priest. He had dinner at our house a few times. Judging from the story, he's no longer a priest, because he had charges against him for child molestation (that wasn't in the story). We knew there were accusations against him, but had no idea what happened to him, if he was found guilty or jailed or anything. This was when I was about 15 or 16. He was nothing but kind and appropriate to me, even when I was a child in a summer camp that he organised. But these charges... It was a weird internal struggle to see him doing well: part of me wondered how he managed to get out of that situation and if he was guilty, but the other part was kind of glad that he was living a functional, productive life. Do people in his workplace know of his former life? Does he have to register as a pedophile? This probably requires greater effort and I may look into this further, just to appease my mind.

Strangely, he was the second priest that was accused of child molestation. The other was a much older priest who came to dinner with our parish priest (the one was staying with our priest while charges were being laid and the case was being prepped for trial) when I was about 11 or 12, and all I recall was that neither my parents nor our parish priest would allow him to be alone with me at all, even for a minute. My mother had told me of the accusation, so I knew why they were being so cautious. But seeing him, I had no idea how he could convince anyone to do anything sexual.

Tangenting, I just got back from Sondre Lerche and found him to be quite intoxicating. I would have loved to watch to the end, but the early start tomorrow made me nervous. As it is... Anyway, I did get to hang out with Heather and Blair, which was great fun. The rare chances that we get to hang out are always a treat.

wondering

Why is it you never hear about celebrities getting librarians pregnant? It's always "models" or "actresses" or "nannies" or "cocktail waitresses." Never librarians.

I know it isn't because librarians aren't hot. Because the first thing everyone says when they find out I'm a librarian is, "Ooooohhhhh, a libraaaarian. Hot!" I get lots of lecherous looks, lots of winking and eye wagging. And considering the number of extremely attractive librarians that I know, it isn't because they're stereotypically bookish-looking. Yet do I hear of librarians getting knocked up by famous men? No.

Are librarians better able to figure out birth control? There are a lot of other women of various professions that manage to not get knocked up by celebrities. So apparently women of certain professions are unable to read directions.

I wonder if famous people even use libraries. Maybe they don't know what a librarian is. Maybe librarians don't need to sue a famous babydaddy for financial support because they're doing fine on their own. Maybe celebrities can't get librarians a better job just from sexing her up.

a bit more exciting than usual

Saturdays are generally pretty dull for me. I tend to do stuff by myself during the day if I'm not working and then sit around all night watching TV. Rarely do my Saturdays differ. Today was a bit of a change-up.

Jill called early to invite me for dinner, so I knew I had a deadline to get stuff done. I worked on a sewing project that I'm way behind on before heading out for a while. I popped over to the Cambie Winners and found some baking paraphernalia that I'd been meaning to get (mini muffin and mini loaf tins). There was also a bunch of Le Creuset stuff at about half what it would cost normally and I debated for about a half hour whether or not to get a big covered pot. (Yesterday I picked up some Le Creuset ramekins from the Surrey Central Winners and that excited me. Imagine what actual pots did for me. I'll give you a minute...) I decided, with the new job, to just get one because it's one of those things I've always wanted and never really thought I could afford. As far as pots go, it wasn't cheap, but I'll likely have it until I die, so it's worth it to me. I doublechecked the cost at the Bay and that dissipated any misgivings I had. It's one of the blue ones.

Have you been to the downtown Bay recently? It's had a bit of a makeover with most of the first floor in the midst of a renovation. The handbags, leg/foot coverings and shoes are now on the second floor, and it looks much more like American fancy department stores like Macy's and I don't like it. I had difficulty looking at shoes because it was so spread out, so went to look for tights. I got 7 pairs of various colours on partial sale (a BOGO situation), and can't wait to put the fuchsia ones into rotation. I wandered to the downtown Winners, but didn't find anything. With the #3 doing its old route to Robson, it was pretty easy to catch the bus home.

I headed to Jill & Mark's with flowers from up the street and was excited for the menu: multi-coloured carrots and potatoes, green & yellow beans and lamb shoulder with rosemary and a mint & caper gravy. It was incredibly tasty and made me feel like a louse for not inviting them over for dinner more frequently, but when put up against that menu... What I could make would pale in comparison. But I'll attempt something soon. We had a fun night filled with laughter and talk of murder (only incidentally), and it made me very thankful to have such fantastic friends.

An exciting (though dull) development in my ongoing ear/hearing concern was that my left ear (the deafer one) almost gushed out wax chunks today. Huge clumps of wax that have been making me think I'm going deaf. I was excited about it; I showed Jill during my visit and she was impressed by the size of the stuff. But now I can hear better in my left ear and that makes me happy. A little bit of excitement.

Today I passed by a conversation that included, "So did she go down on you?" and figured I'd missed something. Effective eavesdropping really requires you to get the whole story.

shudder

Tonight on my way home from my last night shift for a long time, waiting at Main & Hastings after my bus couldn't wait the 10 seconds it would have taken me to finish running across the street, I had to avoid the gaze of a drunk older man who noticed me and waited for me to look near him. I saw what he was doing and purposely didn't look, but he still stumbled over and started talking to me while I had my earplugs in. The questions were questions he could have asked the couple standing nearer to him or the man behind me. But no... He felt he needed to ask me.

Normally I'm pretty tolerant and will be polite and have a short conversation in such instances. But 10pm isn't a time I'm willing to chat with random strange, drunk men at Main & Hastings. I'm sure he was a pleasant man and all, but I was obviously not in the mood to talk and said as much when I said I'd like to go back to listening to my music. He then asked if he could ask me a question and I just said no. He seemed startled, like of course I would say he could ask a question. The problem is I've had that sort of situation happen before and I know the question would have made me VERY uncomfortable and possibly pretty angry. Thankfully his bus came and off he went, sitting next to a young woman on the bus when there were empty seats everywhere.

I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but what makes drunk men honestly believe that slurring stuff my way is going to entice me? Who does that work on? Because it's pretty obvious I'm not drunk and not looking to pick up when I'm avoiding eye contact and not answering questions. Or maybe it isn't...

luck of the draw

The fortunes I've gotten lately:

From Jones Soda:
You are heading in the right direction.
You were born with the skill to easily communicate with people.

From fortune cookies:
Enjoy the good luck a companion brings you.
Saturday & Sunday stack odds in your favour.

Is this true? Are fortunes real? Is it fate when a fortune comes your way?

I'm especially intrigued by the fortune cookies. This weekend has brought nothing out of the ordinary. Saturday: work and watching TV alone all night. Sunday: wandered around the 21st Century flea market and met up with Linh for the Blim market. What odds are in my favour?

where the boys are

It's a lovely day and I'm inside working the reference desk. Not that it's a bad thing, since I sort of dislike direct light, but still... These days of sun and blue skies won't be around forever. Seems like I should take advantage of daylight hours.

Today I have on a graphical dress that is probably much too short for a woman of my age. I hide the fact that it is well above my knees by wearing opaque tights, but still... Do I care that it's short and people look at my ridiculous knees with frowns of disapproval? No. I don't care. I think it's funny that I have to pull down my dress because it rides up. I think it's hilarious that I paid $14 for this dress and yet still want to get my money's worth, even though it's a couple of years old. I like that it makes my hips look enormously wide. I think it's a fun dress to wear and I just don't care what anyone else thinks.

It's taken a long time to get to this point and I'm relishing it. And since I've felt more like this, I've had more compliments on my way of dressing than ever in my life. Apparently I have a "look," which surprises me because I'm just really cheap about clothing and struggle to find things that fit. And, in some cases, things probably don't fit as well as they should (case in point: today's dress). But still.

Today I wanted to go to a pirate-themed street party, in honour of International Talk Like A Pirate Day, but have little inclination to go through a phonelist on a Saturday night, trying to find someone who wants to go with. Just as well, really. I'll just drink a bunch of rum by myself as a "good job" on getting the new job. It will be a "yay me" evening. Yay me. I'll have to start planning new outfits for the new job; pretty sure I won't be able to get away with skirts this short there. There are literally hundreds of men that will be ogling my knees when they really should be concentrating on their classes.

midmonth roundup

Holy crap, I'm behind. Life got away from me a bit and *poof!* it's the middle of September. Well, I suppose not that much has been going on. As far as I can remember at least, but I can't remember what I did last week.

I went to Regina to visit my auntie over Labour Day Weekend and that was pretty fun. We hit flea markets and garage sales and the Sears Bargain Centre for Canada, and my suitcase came back significantly fuller than it was when I got there. Five skirts, a bathing suit, two squared coloured Pyrex (though one isn't technically Pyrex; it's Maid of Honor, which is, as far as I can figure out, a rip-off brand put out by Sears), and maybe something else that I can't recall. Oh, my auntie gave me two needlepoint pictures and one paper toile picture. I got to hang out with my cousin and we drank raspberry liqueur and ate vodka raspberries and assorted booze (even wine!), and just had a really nice visit. It's a pretty easy trip, so I'm going to try to visit again.

Last weekend I tried to go to Point Roberts with Jill, but I totally forgot to bring my passport because, duh, you need a passport even though you can only get there from the Canadian side. We went to White Rock instead, which turned out to be a great idea because the weather was quite lovely that day. We walked the path by the water and watched fish from the pier. Most fascinating were varying sizes of flounder camouflaging themselves and sucking up crap (literally) from the shallow water. We stopped off at thrift stores in New West and I picked up two glass reamers (a small and a large) and one large coloured Pyrex casserole without a lid, though I'm confident I can find a lid to fit it.

Last weekend was a movie weekend, of sorts. I met up with Rachel and Laura for drinks and a lady movie, and it was a lot of fun to catch up. Fun girlfriends. Sunday, after a rough night before (I got out of bed at 1pm and that was only because I forced myself out), I decided to see 500 Days of Summer because it's cheaper before 6pm. It made me kind of sad, though I have developed a crush on that boy from 3rd Rock from the Sun. And I loved her dresses, which might have made me partially sad because I can't really wear those dresses without looking really fat. Or maybe all the blue made me sad. Whatever.

This week I had a job interview and am awaiting the callback. I actually giggled when I walked into the building for the interview because it's a male-dominated institution and I passed by hoards of attractive, well-dressed/uniformed men. HOARDS. I immediately thought back to the Japanese fortune tellers I went to who said I'd meet my soulmate around this year's birthday through work. If I get this job then my odds may go up drastically. Assuming any of the male hoards go to the library. It's kind of a tough spot to be in, though, because either way there are tinges of disappointment: if I get the job I'll have to quit at least one, possibly two other jobs, and I really like one of my workplaces a lot; if I don't get it I'll feel bad that I wasn't chosen. I got a call today while I was at work, so will call tomorrow morning to find out the last word on it.

Tonight I made some butterscotch marshmallow squares. I'd seen them at all the flea markets and farmers markets I went to in Saskatchewan and I remembered how much I loved them when I was a kid. My mom never made them (she was more of a chocolate puffed wheat square lady), but the neighbour next door in the tiny white house made them sometimes and would slip me a square when we stopped by to drop stuff off. I loved the colourful marshmallows sneaking out from the creepy brown glue. These are so ridiculously easy to make that I have to ban myself from keeping either peanut butter or butterscotch chips or coloured marshmallows in my house at the same time (or ever, probably). So good.

pathways of newspaper

My house currently lacks things like milk, bread, eggs, yogurt... Things that seem like staples. I have a mango, nectarines, peaches, tomatoes, yellow plums, an enormous zucchini, two cucumbers; these seem like luxuries. The same could be true of my life in general.

The security I long for, knowing where my next paycheck is coming from, getting paid holidays and dental and contributions to a pension, are things that seem like staples. I have no problem with collecting cameras, buying fabric in swaths, drinks/dinners with friends, trips to see my family... These are the luxuries in my life. I cannot organise the staples, so rely on the luxuries to make my life feel normal.

I can watch three movies from the library, but I can't pull my shit together enough to go to the grocery store or return my bottles or recycle containers.

I think I'm on the path to becoming an eccentric shut-in. When I mention having to thread through stacks of newspaper and other piles, know that the crazies have taken over.

good evening ladies and gentlemen and joe

I'm visiting my parents this weekend and wish I could stay a few more days.

This morning we went to OK Falls to check out the flea market. It wasn't very good, very few tables, and the stuff there was wasn't particularly interesting. We drove the back road to Vaseaux Lake and then Tuc El Nuit road to see where my cousins are building a new house. We happened to be sitting at the bottom of the drive and my cousin saw us and waved us in. We had a very short visit and then headed to the Kiwanis flea market, which was pretty awesome. I stopped myself from buying a punch bowl and an enamel pot with lid and plates because I was specifically and only looking for square Pyrex with lids. We drove back toward town and I asked if we could stop by the cemetary because I haven't been there for years and wanted to see where my uncle's headstone was placed. I saw my grandparents' plot and got a little teary when I saw my uncle's. Then I saw that my mom's best friend's plot was just up and over and that made me really teary. I didn't want to spend too much time there because my parents go there fairly often for funerals (the Catholics are very involved with funerals), but would like to go back when I have more time. We popped into the flea market in town and, while there was loads of good dishware, still I had no luck with the square Pyrex.

This afternoon I went to the meat draw with my dad and we sat with his regular crew. I find I have more to talk about with the men than the ladies, but I do really try to talk to the ladies. I saw my friend's dad and had a chat with him and my fake Irish granny popped by to give me a hug and a quick chat. The caller started the draws today with the subject line, a deliberate, though playful, dig at my dad; they tease each other constantly when they see each other, like little kids. My dad and I share a pitcher or two and he gets me some clamato; we went through two today. I wound up winning for the first time in, like, ever and picked out the T-bone steaks for my parents. (I can't take it home, unfortunately, because it won't stay frozen on the bus.) It was pretty great. Then we came home to tacos, and it just reminded me of being a kid and made me so happy.

Even though it's changed so much here, I still can't help but feel like a little kid when I'm here. And I wonder if I'll ever meet someone who will fit into this experience: who will chat with my dad's friends and want to hear stories about what it used to be like here and that will go to yard sales with me and my dad on Saturday mornings and be OK watching HGTV and Food Network shows for hours on end and see my mom's quilting projects. The older I get, the more concerned I get that the one who's meant for me will never know or see this part of me. Because this is the me that explains the adult me.

signs, signs

You know how Oprah says something about there being signs that you should make changes to your life and how sometimes it takes really significant signs to make you pay attention... I'm starting to feel like that a little bit.

Working at one of my jobs tonight was one of the weirdest things as of late. I walked in and everything looked brighter (which was actual: they finally replaced a huge number of lightbulbs that were burnt out) and it disoriented me a little. Then I started to get a recap on what's been happening the last few weeks since I last worked. The place is going to pot. I'd be surprised if I even get work there again. Poor management/minion relations on the floor I work on, much worse than when my previous manager was here (she's one of my references and is incredibly awesome) and I could actually get shifts. And with all the provincial funding cuts to libraries, and most likely cuts from the municipal government's funding for the library, chances are I'll be looking for as many additional jobs as I can get. This fall I will have three and it won't be enough.

So... is this my latest sign that I don't belong here? A big FUCK YOU from some higher power? Because I'm freaking out how little I'll be making this fall, despite all the jobs. Some sort of miracle needs to happen to make things seem a bit less scary.

the ugly

How is it possible there are still beauty pageants? Miss Universe is on and it's a total joke. How does wearing a bathing suit and an evening gown make you Miss Universe? How does being skinny and pretty measure anything of importance? Wouldn't it just be better to watch a fashion show and forget about the "competition" part of things?

I feel so bad for the girls that get marked low for the walk up and down the runway. Do they watch it after the show and see how low they got marked? And they're getting marked specifically on what other people have done to them: picked their clothes, did their hair and makeup, taught them how to walk... Like a dress-up doll.

If I were model thin and fantastically gorgeous, would I think it's less stupid to be judged by looks?

winding down

Today I decided to ride the Canada Line, to see how it is and to head to #3 Rd Superstore. I have to admit... it's pretty nice. Super wide cars, stations that feel like mass transit stations, quick and smooth. It will make getting to the airport a lot easier, so long as I can get to one of those stations; those are a ways away.

I stopped in at the Salvation Army shop and found a nice mid-sized platter. It matches the dishes I favour and could be incentive for dinner parties (if ever I clear off my dining table again). I picked up a few tops and cardis at Superstore, which I'm sure is terrible of me, but I'm too economical sometimes. I go to the #3 Rd one because it's the biggest selection in the area and is its own store within the store. Lots of fun stuff. My ticket ran out, so I wandered into the Landsdowne Winners. I found some shoes for work and a pair of waterproof boots that could probably be helpful for Burnaby Mountain as the weather worsens this fall/winter. The airport route will have to wait a couple weeks for when I actually have to go there.

There's a pan of blackberry brownies cooling on the counter for brunch tomorrow. I went out picking with Rachel, Augusten and Lily yesterday and I picked about 2 litres from our favourite spot. I just keep jamming stuff into the freezer and hoping it stays frozen. People keep saying I should make jam, but I rarely use jam as it is and I'm not sure making jam is going to change that. I only just tucked into the peach jam I made over the long weekend, and can't imagine I'll be going through it very quickly.

It really feels like summer is ending. I'm starting to feel the weight of Deborah Kerr's words: "Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories." At this point I can only hope that I've squirrelled enough memories away to see me through. I have a sinking feeling I haven't.

muffin vs. cupcake

What's the difference between a muffin and a cupcake? Does a muffin become a cupcake with icing on it? Does it depend on whether or not fruits or vegetables are in them? I've got a collection of icingless muffins/cupcakes in my freezer and on my counter right now.

I've run out of flour, or else I'd have buttermilk biscuits and rootbeer cupcakes to add to the collection. That's tomorrow night's plan, or Saturday night's, probably.

The last couple of days I've been baking to counter the sort of low-grade uncomfortable crap that tends to pop up every so often. You know the sort: bad review at work, realising you put the wrong address on a resume, gaining weight unexpectedly before having to fit into a dress. Just stuff that doesn't make you feel very good, but that can probably be countered with explaining or a quick anorexic diet. Pretty sure baking will help with that.

Yesterday it started with banana cake made with buttermilk, which actually makes me think about keeping buttermilk at all times. It has a nice little hint of salt to counter the sweetness/sourness. Then cocoa banana cupcakes (I think the recipe claims these are muffins, but, for all intents and purposes, they're cupcakes) that makes such a pretty, fluffy batter and makes about 18. Then I tried a new recipe for peach cupcakes. This let me finally use the rest of the peaches from the packing house (though I froze enough for another batch when the weather turns and my freezer starts to empty) and try another buttermilk recipe. They are very airy and not too sweet. Today I made carrot cake cupcakes (new recipe), which are really fantastic with lots of walnuts (my addition) and are the best carrot cake cupcakes I've ever had. Really. That brings my total of cupcakes/muffins to about 5 dozen.

(I also used the grater plate on my food processor for the first time since I got it about 13 years ago. Thank goodness I kept all those attachments. I love the grater. So easy and painless and bloodless. The only appliance I would love more than my food processor, maybe, is a stand mixer with multiple attachments. Swoon. But I can't believe how smart I was to ask for a food processor for Christmas when I was a poor student.)

I really need an apartment-sized deep freeze for baking. And tomorrow I'm picking blackberries again. Where the hell am I going to put those? Time to re-organise the freezer. What a party I am: planning to organise my freezer and bake on weekend nights.

after the boys of summer are gone

Feeling like summer is getting away from me, this weekend I really tried to pack in summery stuff. I totally need a nap.

Friday morning I went to the bank to sort out my money, which always takes longer than it seems like it should. I went into my safety deposit to deposit safely some stuff around the house. (Nothing makes me feel more responsible and adult-like than having a safety deposit box.) After I got out of there, I took the longest bus ride from Oakridge to the library and wished the new train line were open days earlier; the bus was packed at 11am. I picked up a hold and headed to Burnaby to visit my friend Sara. We had tea and scones fresh out of the oven, and picked blackberries down the street from her house. It was quite lovely.

(I seriously have no room in my freezer right now, but will be picking more berries next Friday and will freeze some nectarines and plums in the next couple of weeks. I need to design a system for better freezer storage. Or find an apartment-sized deep freeze that will fit in my closet and cost virtually nothing to run.)

I made plans to meet up with a few friends in the evening, so headed to the Black Frog for $4 beer and chatted with some surprise appearances who happened to be there at the same time for a different function, and my friend and his wife popped down as well. So fun. I got home and met up with my visiting friend David, chatted a bit, and then I went to bed, totally exhausted.

Saturday David and I went to Trout Lake to pick up my (our) friends' CSA pack for the week and then headed over to 4th Ave for Hippie Day, the annual street festival. With this being the 40th anniversary, it seemed quite a bit bigger than previous years. We hung out around the Zulu stage all day, watching Apollo Ghosts, Ora Cogan, The Evaporators and Rose Melberg. We met up with David's friends Sue (who is always great to see) and Alana (we bump into each other occasionally), and later my friend Rachel and her friend Pam. Then my friend Joe popped by with iodine eyes (eye check-up just before coming down, complete with those weird slide shades they give you when you don't have sunglasses) and I bumped into Glenn. It was very fun, but tiring a bit and we kept forgetting to eat. David and I hightailed it back to mine to meet Rich, Christy and Alf so we could head over to the baseball game. It was pretty slow, with the Canadians having a great 3rd inning and then nothing until the 9th when they were behind by one and got an out on a terrible attempt to steal home rather than filling the bases. They wound up getting two good hits to fill the bases and get in a run. The final hitter batted a double, sending two runs home and winning the game, complete with team dogpile on the field. Then the fireworks started and that was pretty good. We walked back toward my house and discussed going to the Legion for post-drinks. David went to meet his friend at a dance party and the rest of us drank $3.25 bottles of Pil and lamented the karaoke hostess only played the regulars' songs. Then we went back to mine and wound up talking until after 2am, drinking the mead I'd been storing in my fridge and eating cookies to commemorate Rich's birthday on Friday.

This morning we met up with Stewart and Alana and, later, Linh for brunch at Nice Cafe. It was a good end to the weekend's event. Today I'm trying to clean up a bit, do some laundry and maybe do some sewing with the windows open. I'm meeting up with Eileen and Lynn and our friend Shirin for okonomiyaki tonight, so I'm pretty jazzed for that. I also bought the makings for root beer floats because it was on my list of things to do this summer and it hasn't happened, so... it's going to happen. Wanna come 'round for a rootbeer float before the summer ends?

dated

One of the craft blogs I regularly read had a frightening book on display this week, Crochet adorned. I mean, it seems to have cute things from the blog review photos, but I wonder if this book now looks like all those weird crochet books from the 1970s did then. Is it modern eyes that make this book look OK? Would crocheted earrings and crocheted trim on a coat still be considered cute in a couple years? In ten years? In thirty years?

I guess this is why I like cookbooks. Most of them don't seem to date as badly as other types of books (unless you're talking about anything jelly-molded or created with aspic; there's nothing that dates a book faster than those things, especially with full-colour accompanying photos). The hundreds of books I've discarded at the library, many from the '70s and '80s, had dreadful covers that probably looked old after a year or so. Anytime you put clothing on the cover it limits the shelf life of a book. Which is why romance novels hold up so well...

Seriously, what were people thinking crocheting shit like this?! It boggles the mind.

hitting the mark

Just pulled some salty chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. I'm trying something new with these that I read somewhere. I let the dough sit in the fridge for 12 hours to let the dough dry out a bit. Ideally the dough should sit something like 36 hours, but I'm unwilling to wait that long for cookies. Ever. They don't seem that much different than usual, but will wait until they cool down to decide for sure.

Feels like forever since I last wrote. For some, probably not long enough, but I question why you're reading at all then.

I tried to see "Julie & Julia" last week, but it was a struggle. After hanging out with the FairSands (blackberry picking included), I headed to Fifth Ave, thinking I would have loads of time if I got there half-an-hour before the screening. Ya, right. Totally sold out. I just headed home, stopping to pick up Nick Malgieri's awesome The modern baker. (I realise I talk about this book a lot, but I HIGHLY recommend it if you enjoy turning on your oven at all. I even bought yeast for the first time EVER to attempt yeast bread. Borrow it from the library ASAP.)

Saturday after work I intended to go to the movie, but after speaking with my friend Sara, decided to hold off to go with her on Sunday after she finished work. Instead, I went to Valentino: the Last Emperor finally. It was so amazing, and I couldn't help but develop the hugest crush on Giancarlo Giammetti. This makes me so excited about The September issue when it opens in Canada later this fall. Dream job: working for a clothing museum as a librarian, mounting shows and compiling exhibition catalogues. How awesome would that be? So awesome.

I met up with Sara and then Aaron, stopping at the bookstore and then for a quick bite at Guu. We were all pretty excited about the movie and I couldn't stop being a nerd when they talked about the index in The joy of cooking. I loved Meryl Streep as Julia Child; did not love Amy Adams as Julie Powell. I would have liked the person who played her friend to actually be her; she was a bit more colourful. The movie picked uninteresting meltdowns to focus on. Where was the meltdown during the clogged up sink? No mention of having to order pizza after disasters. Sigh. Still, it's likely the sort of movie I will want to have in my collection for those days that I need something related to stuff I like. (Others in this collection: Breakfast at Tiffany's, Amelie, Pretty in pink... I would add Pret a porter and Issac Mizrahi's Unzipped if I could find them, perhaps Fashion show and Desk set and Party girl. Actually, all of those would be splendid. Yes, yes, splendid.)

Glenn, the peach, picked up the 1975 edition of The joy of cooking while he was at Powell's last week. The index is amazing; 63 pages! Swoon!

buttering up

Julie & Julia opens today. I am so fricking excited about this and have my day plotted out so I can see it this evening. Even though I read the novel a couple of years ago, I never thought to get Mastering the art of French cooking before now. Stupid, stupid, stupid. To buy used copies will run me about $60 if I'm lucky. And there's no way I can personally pay money for a book that has Meryl Streep on the cover as Julia Child. As much as I like Meryl Streep, that's just sacrilege.

Sometimes I feel like I picked the wrong career. The process of cooking/baking is so therapeutic and is one of the only times I'm not lashing out or being sulky. But then I remember that cooking for a living forces you to be around other people and then I'm happy it isn't my job. Being around all those knives with yelling co-workers...

I need to roast a chicken massaged with butter soon.

unfriendliness

Often I go through stages when I feel like I'm a terrible friend. It happens more frequently at certain times of the year, but generally doesn't happen in the summer. This summer is nothing but being a shitty friend.

One consolation for these feelings of inadequacy is that I know certain people like me quite a lot and have for a long time. My oldest friend I've known since we were 3-years-old in Storytime at the library. We can go months without speaking, yet when we do talk it's like no time has passed. This evening I got to talk with my friend who I used to live beside. We haven't spoken for a couple of years (just occasional emails), but it was easy to catch up and there wasn't a second that we didn't have things to say. Conversations like this makes me feel less shitty.

I really rely on easygoing friends because I'm so out of my head sometimes and forget that I shouldn't be a shitty friend. The friends I've had longterm similarly like having low maintenance friends because we all seem to go through stages of availability. I realise this implies I can be low maintenance; even I have (rare) moments of not being crazy.

The remaining part of the summer I'll endeavour to be less shitty. It will be a stretch; it's so out of my character.

homebound

My iPod seemed to be loaded with songs that talked to me. Even the radio spoke to me a bit; I think Bryan Adams had a premonition about me when he wrote "Run To You" (though, obviously, not ABOUT me, since I've never had relations with Bryan Adams, as far as I can remember). It's challenging listening to music with another person when that person doesn't know any of the music at all, except the crap on the radio only for the first or last 2 hours of a 5 hour trip (or 5 3/4 hour if you leave on a Friday afternoon of a long weekend).

Last weekend I went to visit my parents with my sister. My brother headed down as well, so it was a mini family reunion. We all get together only a few times a year. This is the first time I've had a long weekend off in the summer in ages; it just never happens. With my parents' trip to the Holy Land over Thanksgiving, it will be the last time we're together until Christmas. (My brother was shocked to find he'd be on his own for Thanksgiving; not sure how my sister and I knew about the trip and he didn't, since it's the most major thing my parents have planned ever and he sees them more often.)

While home I got to visit with a couple of aunts and cousins and spoke to a few family friends I don't see very often. Lots of hugging, which I like. It's somewhat ego boosting being home because people there seem to compliment me more than anywhere else. The ladies at the church breakfast thought I looked like I lost weight and complimented the dress I made. Even if it's a wee lie I still appreciate it.

One of my favourite things to do is to ride around the golf course with my dad on the golf cart. The desert holes (the additional 18 holes that bring it up to a 36 hole course) stretch out into the desert (which should be pretty obvious) and we look for golf balls out of bounds. It's pretty fun and this time my sister came with us, which made for a squishy ride. My dad and I also went to a few yard sales and I picked up two Pyrex dishes, a milk glass vase and an awesome kitchen scale, all for $1.75. Sweet. We also went to the meat draw on Saturday and won nothing, but drank a couple jugs of beer with clamato.

My mom and I did a fair bit of bonding as well. I made some peach jam (it didn't gel very well, but had no added pectin) and we worked on a special project together (she cut, I ironed and handstitched). She is very sweet and picked up peaches from the packing house ($0.60/lb) and got some apricots from family friends for us to bring back. I did a mini digital camera tutorial with her so she gets comfortable with it before their trip. My parents are pretty great.

Oh, and it was around 39'C everyday. I find this mildly amusing. Most people who live there have some sort of air conditioning system (my parents have central) and those that don't I don't know because everybody I know there has been there enough years to realise it's necessary. How do people camp there in tents? No idea. We didn't make it to the lake, but I did walk around with bare feet outside on the grass, something I can't do in Vancouver. I'm hoping to get back once more this summer, preferably when nectarines are ready.

I remember when I couldn't wait to get away from there; now I can't leave without feeling nostalgic for all that it was.