Z Rizdvom Khrystovym !

Merry Christmas!

It's been, like,  forever since I last blogged.  This working full time business has sucked every ounce of energy out of me.  I don't know how I ever did it before.  Ugh.  Just 2 and a half days next week and it's back to the regular scheduled program.  Thank god.

Lots of exciting things coming up in the next few months:

Tomorrow:  Christmas!
Dec. 27:  My Birthday!!
Dec. 31:  New Years!
Jan 5:  First day of school!
Jan 12 - 20:  Mexico!
April 5:  Last day of classes!
May 25 - 28:  LSAT prep course!
June 11:  LSAT!
July and August:  Full Time work!  (ugh)
Sept 30:  Full application, reference letters, personal statement, resume submitted to the Faculty of Law!

Phew!  It's going to be a crazy ass year my friends, and it's taken me 3 years to get here.  It's Finally Here.

*************

Michelle's Proud Parenting Moment # 87,347:

Weds. Dec. 21 @ 6:30 p.m.

The Boy, tossing is back pack over his shoulder:  I'm going out mom, I'll be back in an hour.

Me:  Where are you going?

TB:  I'm just going out.

Me:  What do you need your backpack for?

TB:  See you later.

Me (in a slightly freaking-out-sorta-voice):  Get back here!  Where are you going and what do you need your back pack for?  You better not be doing anything you shouldn't.  Are you going out drinking?  Are you buying pot?  Who are you meeting?  You better tell me right now before I grab you back pack and go through it and ground you for the whole Christmas break!

TB:  I'm going to the mall.

Me:  With your back pack???  ARE YOU STEALING???

TB:  No mom, I'm not drinking or smoking or stealing!  God!  I was going out to get your presents and I didn't want you to see what I bought you when I came home!!

Me:  Oh.  Well.  Ok.  Well, have fun.  Do you want me to give you a few ideas?

TB *rolling eyes*:  You just did.  See ya.

Wonder what that means?  There's an odd looking package under the tree wrapped in about 40 feet of wrapping paper secured with what looks like an entire roll of scotch tape.  Maybe it's a book about how to relax and cut your teenager some slack once in a while?  Poor kid.  Sometimes (read: not very often but once in a very rare moment), the teenage boy lowers that overly hormonal, shit-head, moody, self-involved shield and reveals an actual human being.  It's shocking when it happens but at least then I'm reassured that there's some humanity in there.  Most times I'm left wondering.

***********

I love presents.  I'm like the cookie monster of presents.  I'm worse than children when it comes to presents.  All these presents under the tree are KILLING me!!  I just can't stand it anymore.  One more sleep.

***********

Happy Holidays!

Specifically speaking of course.

Happy December all!  You know what this time of year brings?  FINALS!  Yes.  Thirteen weeks of classes and assignments, papers, long essays and short essays, and mountains and mountains of reading is finally at an end.  I wrote a final yesterday and wanted to skip down the sidewalk as I finished.  I have another one the end of next week and then I am done until the New Year.  Another 9 credit hours under my belt.  I'm on a roll here folks.  Only 9 more to go, an LSAT to write, a personal statement to draft, 3 reference letters to request, a resume to revise, a weekend long interview process and I will finally (finally!) find out if I'm accepted into the Faculty of Law.  The last 2 years has been a long, long road.  The end is near.  Bring it.

I understand it's Christmas time too.  Right.  Guess we need to put up the tree and shit.  Can't believe I'm not feeling it this year.  I'm just so wrapped up in my own little world and tend to forget there's all sorts of other things going on.  (Whhhhhaaaaaat? You mean there's more to life than school???)

I'm back to work full time Monday.  Oh god that SO SUCKS.  I don't know how I will ever put in 8 full hours of work for the next three weeks.  It will be exhausting. 

I did an online quiz the other day to see whether or not I'm an alcoholic. (See http://alcoholism.about.com/od/tests/l/blquiz_alcohol.htm to determine your alcohol abuse rate).  I answered 3 yes, 17 no.  Apparently I should seek immediate medical attention.  Right. Who hasn't felt remorse after drinking, or had a drink on their own, or had a few to drown their sorrows once in a while?  I mean, really.)  So I've decided instead of seeking advise from John Hopkins University Hospital to go out and celebrate the end of the term with my friends. 

Again, bring it.  That's my new motto.

 

She Speaks Out.

My sociology prof is a different sort of bird.  She loves to debate and argue but at the end of the day she will shoot you down and make you feel like a fool.  I have somewhat enjoyed the class by keeping my mouth shut.  It's been a very difficult process for an outspoken chick like me, but I was bursting to get my opinion in one of these days.  Well, apparently that day was yesterday.

The topic in class this week is "Deviance".  Oh fun!!  Yesterday we were discussing in particular, whether online porn or sex would be considered deviant.  The term deviant means anything that goes against cultural norms and apparently it doesn't always have a negative connotation (or so I've learned).  It's hard to wrap the brain around that, isn't it?  Here is how the conversation went between my prof and I before, oh, about 100 students or so:

Her:  Is online porn or sex deviant?

(And the regular, front row favoured types respond their typical kiss-ass response.  *Yawn*)

I think about it, formulate a response, and raise my hand at the back of the class.

Me:  Well, considering sex itself is a cultural norm, I'm not sure that online sex or porn could then be considered deviant.

Her:  People cannot have sex by themselves.

Me:  Well sure they can.  People masturbate.  Isn't that sex?

Her:  Individuals masturbate; people have sex. 

Me:  Ok.  The definition of sex is subjective then.  The fact remains that we don't generally discuss such private matters whether it be sex or masturbation, but it's still human nature to do so, therefore it's a cultural norm.  If people use online porn or sex to get off it doesn't matter because it's normal human nature to orgasm for pleasure. How can that possibly be deviant?

(And then I realized there were about 200 eyeballs staring at me.  I wanted to crawl under a rock.  Here I was discussing masturbation in front of strangers.  What's wrong with me?  But I was positive my point was a most excellent one and I wasn't going to back down.)

Her:  But you're looking at the term deviant as something negative.  Sex or masturbation isn't negative.  It's a cultural norm when the behaviour becomes ingrained in our everyday life that we don't bat an eyelash at even the mere mention of it.  Is online sex or porn deviant then?

Damn.  Good point.

Me:  (Silence....followed by a VERY reluctant nod of the head.)  Yeah, I guess it is. 

It just goes to show you that we really don't know what we think we know even when we think we know there's more to it.  You know?

Fascinating.

Bring it.

I'm feeling rather sparky these days which is pretty ironic considering I'm basically living off coffee, adrenaline and ciggs.  Went to see my optometrist last week and the first thing she said is "ooohhh...you're dehydrated.  Less coffee, more sleep."  Sure.  I will get right on that.  Bought me some Refresh Ultra to take care of the eye ball dehydration, and grabbed a Grande Americano with room from Starbucks to keep my brain functioning, and figured that should take care of that.


Seems I have a freckle on my left eye, 3 o'clock.  Nothing to be concerned about says the Dr., but it is interesting to note.  See, it's very common with brown eyes; not so common with blue, she tells me.  Fascinating.  Am I going to live?  Great.  That's all I need to know.


My eye sight has improved so I'm pleased as punch about that.  Still need to wear the suckers but not as often as I used to.  Little does she know that if I remember to even put them on it's a miracle.  But I have me a new prescription and I'm off to the races to find some new glasses.  That's always fun.  Bedazzled red frames, bring it!


*******


Are you wondering about the cigg reference above?  Yeah.  My 18th million attempt at quitting didn't quite cut it this time.  Ah well, there's always next time.  I hear the 19th million attempt is usually the successful one so that's what I'm going with.  Why stress. 


I saw my lit prof smoking outside last week.  Smokers have this funny little way of acknowledging one another, like we're part of this select little group.  It's an understanding of sorts.  Instant acceptance.  How wonderful for me that my lit prof and I share such an understanding.  The world is at my fingertips.  Literally.


*******


The boy had his very first date Saturday night. I don't think I was supposed to know but once he admitted he was going to see the new Twilight movie, the cat was out of the bag.  What 15 and a half yr old boy will admit to going to Twilight if not for a girl?  It was a blind date (well, as far as blind dates go with the likes of facebook and such), and he was being set up by his best friend's girlfriend.   


The girl's name is Brittany. She's 16.  (Oooooh an OLDER woman!!  The plot thickens.) 


Sunday morning I say:  "Sooooo!  How did it go?"


The boy says:  "She's nice." 


Ok.  Nice in what way?  Nice as in she's a nice person?  Nice in that she's pretty?  Nice in that she liked you? Nice in that she has a nice body?  What!  What!!  Oh it drives me crazy that the boy tells me NOTHING.   And I think it amuses the boy knowing that his silence drives me insane, which drives me even more insane. 


But I'm a savvy chick.  I'm a cool cat.  I'm smooooooth.  I figured I would just bide my time and get it out of him in time.


He spent the entire day Sunday applying for part-time jobs and texting on his phone with a big smile on his face.  Nothing further required.  We have success.


How... nice.

*******

Lest we forget.

It was a proud day yesterday and we have much to be grateful for.  I tend to watch the Ottawa service every year - and it's the silver cross mother that gets me every time.  I'm perfectly fine until she lays the wreath...and then the tears start.  Some things just really tug at the heart strings.

******* 

Quite the story out of Penn State this week.  There are two kinds of people that deserve to be fried:  murderers and child rapists.  There are not enough words to express my disgust.  To even say they are the scum of the earth would be giving them too much credit.  It makes me sick to my very core.  Jerry Sandusky?  I say:  die motherfucker, you don't deserve one more second on this planet.

Same to all those who knew what was going on.  Bastards.

I think what gets me even more upset is the media sensationalism.  I sat and watched the news with the boy last week and he turned to me and said "why do they have to be so graphic?  Those poor kids."

Yeah.

Sex sells I guess, even the vilest of sex.  It's a sad world we live in.

*******

The last time I saw writing on the bathroom walls was in high school, and the theme was typically about how Crystal loves Tommy forever and ever.  Or that Brittany was here.  Or that some teacher was a dickhead.

But in University the theme is more inspirational.  "Don't let a man hurt you."  (with the word "man" crossed out and the word "anyone" inserted.)  Or "follow your dreams".  Or "the future depends on what we do in the present". 

The other day I saw one that said:  "Big bitches are the bomb".

Thanks for that.  It totally made my day.  My quest for this week is to find the best inspirational quote in a bathroom stall and take a picture of it.  Stay tuned.  There's some doozies.

*******

Currently reading Boom Bust & Echo for a sociology paper I need to write.  Super interesting book.

Also doing a ton of research on whether or not sex ed in the classroom leads to increased promiscuity in teens for my persuasive writing class.  Just in case you’re wondering if it does, the answer is no.

*******

Song for the week:  No more cloudy days - Eagles.

I'd love to feel the sun on my face again.  I've forgotten what it feels like!

*******

"Mutha (Don't Want to go to School Today)" - Extreme

Ever feel like you're life could become a theme song?

Here's mine:

Sick as a Dog - Aerosmith
So Tired - Ozzy
Comfortably Numb - Floyd
Brain Damage - Eminem
Don't Stand So Close to me - Police
Getting Better - Beatles

******

Kids are rude these days.  They lack any social skills whatsoever.  I ran an unscientific study over the last couple weeks:  For every twelve times I walk through a doorway with students ahead of me, only one will hold the door behind them. Otherwise they open it just enough for them to walk through and let it slam behind them. 

Rude.

And another thing - kids in their 20's don't smile.  Ever.  Especially the girls.  They give you an up-and-down stare and sort of look right through you. And if you smile at them (which I always do because I'm just that kind of friendly, nice sorta girl), they give you a dirty look.  Well fuck you too sweetheart.

Rude.

********

I wrote midterms with a flu last week.  It sucked.

********

I started Champix this week.  It's to assist in my attempt to quit smoking.  I might turn into a paranoid maniac, but at least I won't be smoking.  Quit date is next week sometime.  Everyone say a little prayer for my husband and child.

*******

New Doors Are Opening. Or Are They?

We bought new doors for the front of the house.  Gorgeous things.  The inside door had to be special ordered - this house is so old.  Anyway, the doors are finally in and the man stayed home from work to install them. 

How wonderful.

So I'm sitting in the back room studying:  I have 3 exams, 1 oral presentation and 2 papers due in the next 3 and a half weeks.  I'm working really hard on linking social theories to each theorist, getting in a groove, words are flowing, the light bulb is on and everything is clear and making sense, when I hear the words "fucking HELL" being yelled from the living room.

me:  (yelling) What's wrong?

him:  (yelling) They measured the hinges on the door all wrong.

me:  (getting up)  Are you sure?

him:  Yah.  See?  Look.

me:  You need to shimmy it up on the left.  Here I'll help.

*pause*

Well, wouldn't you know, the door fits!!  Great door.  Been waiting weeks for the thing.  Expensive as hell but SO worth it.  It’s so beautiful!

I go back to work.  It's hazy at first, but the groove starts coming back.  I'm in a zone.  The ideas race through my head and I'm writing like a crazed person.  It's beautiful.  It's art. It's so academically out of this world that the professor will be bowing at my feet and tossing honourary doctorate degrees at me. 

"Fucking SHIT!!"  

me:  What's wrong?

him:  There's no instructions for the new door handle.

me:  You sure?

him:  Yeah.  Fuck!!!

*I go off to look*  Yup.  No instructions.  So he returns to the store and comes back with instructions.  Dandy.

I go back to study.  The ideas have stopped flowing.  I'm fading.  No problem, I will just change topics.  I'm writing an essay on how distance education is a viable option to traditional study methods.  I open up the Word document, read over what I've done and make a few revisions.  It's a strong essay - excellent use of sources - fantastic sentence structure.  I'm quite pleased. 

"FUCK"

me:  What's wrong?

him:  Oh, I just drilled a hole in the door and fucked the whole thing up.

*pause*

me:  What?

him:  Fuck!

*pause*

I get up to look.  Yeah, he drilled a hole through the door, but when I put the handle there, it covered it up.  Confused, I say, "but it's covered up when you put the handle on."

him:  I know but it sticks out.

me:  so?

him:  I'm going to get the (some sort of saw) and see if I can flush it out.

me:  I don't think so!  You'll totally ruin the door then!!

*stomping back to my room*

I go back to my essay and leave it to him to figure out.

Stupid door.

Why didn’t we just PAY someone to do this?

I go back to work.  I change subjects again.  Let's look at the Dimensions of Aging. The oldest members of the baby boomers are starting to retire you know.  Guess what this means?  By 2031 approximately 25% of the Canadian population will be over 65.  I shit you not. And since the national birthrate is down, there are fewer young Canadians to offset the increase in the elderly.  Talk about the kinds of effects this will have on our social and political institutions!  So I turn to that. It's a fascinating topic.

"FUCKING HELL!"

me:  What's wrong?

him:  There's no screws in this box.

me:  Are you sure?

him:  Yah.  Fuck.

me:  Do you have any?

him:  I'm using them but they're the wrong ones.

*pause*

He calls the store.  As long as he has his receipt, not problem, they will give him a new installation kit.  Fantastic.

He grabs his keys.

Where's the receipt?

Well, apparently when he went to the store the first time to get the instructions, he left the receipt at the store.

I told him to channel the "wrath of Michelle" and get it anyway.  He did.  I'm so proud.

He's back at it again.  We're going on the 7th hour of the New Door Installation period.

I'm blogging.  Homework?

Nah, I'm on my second glass of wine now.

*Update with Pictures!!*

See spot run.

The boy started Drivers Ed last week.  I went to a parents meeting that lasted nearly 2 hour long.  It takes 5 years for a new driver to get their licence regardless of their age.  Five years!  When I was a kid they kicked your ass into a car, told you to drive, and gave you a licence if you remembered to use signal lights when changing lanes.  Seriously.  Now though it's a gradual process --  4 hours a week of classroom time for a couple weeks until he gets his learners permit, followed by a further 4 hours a week of classroom time and 2 hours a week of driving time for another 6 weeks.  Talk about a time commitment.  He keeps his learners permit for a minimum of 9 months, followed by the road test ... followed by a year or so with certain limitations, followed by another few years with other limitations.  There are so many rules and regulations for each process that I've forgotten what they all are.  My point being is that my little boy will be driving.  Why, it was just last week he was 3 and asking for a cheese samich.  Now he's 15 and a half and....is asking for a new car.

Zoom Zoom.

The Red Rocker

I read Sammy Hagar's autobiography over the past couple days.  I had to read it fast because it's due back at the library and both of us wanted to get our hands on it. We had waited over 2 months to get it and the waiting list is still crazy long.

The first 3 chapters are so poorly written that I very nearly gave up on it.  I'm glad I didn't though. It's as though his co-author finally took over after that.  I mean, the entire book certainly isn't the finest piece of literature out there, but it's not the worst book ever written.  Did you know Sammy was into numbers and astrology?  I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but it sure sounded smart to me.  And did you know that with a few of his friends, he founded the first mountain bike business in California?  Sold that business for millions.  He invented his own brand of tequila too and eventually sold that business for a cool 100 million dollars. His chain restaurants support local charities.  His Cabo Wabo Cantinas support local rockers. But it was his relationship with the Van Halen's that was most interesting to me.  Biased?  Oh hell yeah, but it still makes for a really cool read.  Those brothers, according to Sammy, are extremely fucked up in a very fucked up sort of way.  But even he admits that when the times were good, it was magic. 

Makes me want to download everything Sammy and Van Halen now.  Isn't that what the book is supposed to do?  Well it worked.

Rock on.

Puzzling.

The man and I went to one of those big chain restaurants on Friday night.  We don't normally do that.  I figure not only can I make a better meal but I can make more of it for about a quarter of the price.  However, we hadn't been to a decent (?) restaurant in some time and figured we probably should.  This particular one makes this killer (killer) spicy sausage and potato soup and a really good salad.  They used to have these mean breadsticks but it seems hard-as-rocks breadsticks are now the rage.  Anyway, we're sitting there slurping back our soup (so, so, so good!), and a couple sits down at a table to the side of us.  She's carrying a novel; he is carrying a sudoku puzzle book.  They sit, glance at the menu, confer for a minute, and she turns to her book; he to his sudoku puzzle.

Seriously?

They go out for supper but can't possibly spend 40 minutes or so to talk while they break bread? What's the point. 

********

There's one thing I'm really struggling with at school.  I'm having a hard time with the dress code.  If I dressed like the majority of students, I'd be up 5 minutes before the bus arrived, still in my pyjamas.  I'd have serious bed head, wearing sweats, and t-shirts, and those mind numbing, truly atrocious things on my feet called... uggs.  I know, right?  Terrible.  Where's their sense of pride?  How can they go all day in public looking like that??  I'm up at 5 every morning.  I shower.  Put make up on.  Put some thought into my wardrobe.  And I even put deodorant and perfume on.  I like to look nice.  There's no excuse for them to look the way they do. 

Kids these days.  I just don't understand them.

********

Testing, testing.

The other day the boy tried skipping school.  It was a good try too, I have to give him that.  He's in high school now and figured that the school wouldn't call if he didn't show up.  Surprise!  The phone call came and when confronted he said "I didn't skip school!", and then quickly changed to "I wasn't feeling well!".  Nice try, kid.  So I smirked and said "well now you know what happens when you skip school.  It was a good try - I would have done the same thing.  Don't do it again."

Perhaps I wasn't harsh enough but it was hard to get really mad when I found the whole thing quite amusing.

********

I signed the boy up for driver's ed this week too.  I will have a teenager out on the road driving.  Shit, I'm not old enough to have a teenager, man!  And this driver's ed is totally diffferent than when I was learning!  When I was a kid, they'd kick you in the ass, give you a car, and tell you to drive.  These days they have to do 30 hours of classroom time, maintain a 70% average, and do 24 hours of driving time at home, with the parents keeping a log book of the hours.  Jesus. 

********

Went to a baby shower yesterday.  I don't see what all the fuss is about.  It's a baby.  Do they all not realize that the baby will turn into a terror soon? 

I didn't hold the baby when it came around to me.  Yah, sure, she was cute and cuddly and all those nice baby things.  I just wasn't interested.  "Afraid it'll rub off on you?" one of the aunties asked me.  "Yeah, that's it", I said.

********

Transit Virginity

I lost my transit virginity this week.  I bet you didn't realize there was one, did you?  Let me explain: 

My morning bus to school is packed.  It's packed to the brink that I have to stand from Mountain and McPhillips to the University of Manitoba.  Granted, it's an express bus and gets me there in under 40 minutes, which is much faster than if I took a car, but still, it's a long time to stand.  So this past Tuesday was no different than any other Tuesday (well, except for the ALL DAY torrential downpour, but that's for another time.  Every try spending a day in school, with classes all over the campus and THEN go to work in an office downtown while trying not to look like a drowned rat?  Try it.  It's a blast, I assure you.).  I stopped at the local Robin's to grab a coffee and went to stand by my bus stop with all the other kiddies to wait for my school bus.  It lumbered along and as usual, there was no place to sit.  So I claimed my spot at the back of the bus, put my bag on the floor between my legs, placed one hand on the handle in front of me, the other gripped my coffee for dear life, and prepared myself for a ride of quick stops and jerky accelerations.  My bus driver is a former NASCAR racer, or so it seems.

There is a stop on Portage and Sherbrook that is a fairly popular spot for a few people on my bus.  Seems not everyone is a U student.  Who knew?  So far I haven't been one of the lucky ones to grab a seat once someone exits, but Tuesday was My Turn.  A spot opened up but it was a seat down from where I was standing and there was already a woman standing there.  She turned to me and said "go ahead".  I said, "really?? thanks!!", and quickly made myself comfortable.  People shuffled back to make more room and I proudly settled in and made myself comfortable.  Yes, I was feeling quite smug actually.

Standing to my side, amongst all the other stander-uppers was this young guy with really nice jeans.  I remember him because I remember looking at his jeans and thinking "those are really nice jeans".  Well, the guy-in-the-really-nice-jeans decided to fart not quite in my face, but damn near just about. And it was a NASTY ASS fart. It was so fucking gross I wanted to stand up and slap him.  I covered my mouth and thought to myself "I'm never sitting down on my morning bus EVER again."

And so, now I know why the lovely woman offered her seat to me.  She had once lost her transit virginity just as I had, and had a fart thrown in her direction too.  Hopefully my transit initiation is now complete. Not sure I can take much more.

Something I find annoying:

The other day I took a work question to the responsible lawyer.  She says: "let's look at this logically", and I wanted to say, "as opposed to illogically you mean?".

Annoying.

I never knew...

• That I'd gain serious muscles in my arms from lugging books everywhere.
• That I'd have to stand all the way from Mountain and McPhillips to the U of M because the bus is so packed with kiddies
• That my class sizes would be so big
• That I'm probably the oldest in each class except for the Prof
• That I'd end up working harder PT than I did FT
• That because I'd be so short of money that I actually have more of it now (how weird is that??)
• That I'd become an expert on bus schedules
• That I'd wear flats nearly all the time
• That instead of finding bling to wear I'm looking for baseball caps
• That I wouldn't need the gym because I walk everywhere and carry a 50 lb bag

And there's more and more but I need to catch my bus.

Later, yo.

Remember when?

I shipped the boy off to his first day of high school today with his shiny new bus pass. He overslept and took a 15 minute shower, but eventually I got him out the door.  His eyes were glued to his phone, his fingers never missing a beat on the key pad; he was late meeting his friends.  This is his first time taking a transit bus to school and with only 5 kids from his junior high off to the same school, he didn't want to have to go alone. My heart went out to him - I know he was nervous.  I was too on my first day of high school.  But reality hit him hard this morning.  There's no more sleeping in every day.  There's no more luxurious 15 minute showers.  He's back at home now and I get to be the bad guy.

I hope he knows where to get off and transfer.

Tomorrow is my turn. Ugh.

Attempted Murder

I was almost killed yesterday by a little tiny perky blonde 20-something, with a voice like a drill sargent, and a glare that could burn holes in your skin, I swear she just about killed me.  It was my first ever spin class and the instructor is a monster.  It was an hour of pure hell.  "Load it up and attack!" she would scream.  "Not enough, load some more!"  And she would know if you didn't load up the tension on the bike because she would give you that *glare* and scream "LOAD IT".  I just about shit my pants when she did that to me, I was so scared. So I loaded it some more and attacked, just like she said.  I was fearing for my life at this point.  The woman is ruthless and quite literally, fucking crazy.  By the end I wasn't sure if I was shaking from exhaustion or from fear.

She came up to me later and said in a sweet voice, great effort, see you next week!  And tossed her blonde hair over her shoulders and bounced away.

Go eat bread, I wanted to say.  Bitch.

Seeking Fairy-Dust

It was my Baba's 89th birthday yesterday and she's going strong.  She tires easily, naps at 10 minute intervals, but is as sharp as ever.  She's the woman who taught me how to fold a perogy, how butter is so much better, and how there can never be too much bacon grease in any dish I make. Her tough as nails attitude and her razor sharp tongue can still leave lasting scars, but she is, as always, the hub of her family.  I looked around her apartment at the room full of people there to celebrate her birthday with her and realized just how important family connections are.  They may drive you crazy, they may make you mad, they may hurt you and make you cry, but they will always be your family, and they will always encourage and support, and best of all, they will be there to celebrate all the good times with you too.  What an interesting dynamic.

This has been an emotional week for me; leaving me with a continuous realization of just how blessed I am to have so much encouragement and support.  I have people in my corner who barely know me, backing me up in a professional sense, to see that I am awarded with any and every opportunity available to me.  In a professional sense, I have never experienced this, ever.  Most times I am looked at as merely a faceless admin. I am a warm body who pumps out the work, easily replaceable and easily forgettable.  That's the life of a legal admin.  I've never accepted that, and even when the money became more than I ever thought I'd ever make, I still don't accept that.  This week, a very respected and prominent figure in the legal community sat me down in her office and offered to mentor me while I make the transition from a corporate paralegal to a lawyer.  She told me things that only my mother or husband has told me:  I'm smart, the work I produce is very good.  I can do it if I apply myself.  I should reach and be pushed to my highest potential.  And, as she sits on the selection board at the Faculty of Law, she knows what will stand out when I apply.  Without my knowledge, she spoke to the management committee of my Firm and put a strong request to keep me supplied with paralegal-level work.  She stressed the importance of this; I must stay on track and follow my dream.  She will provide the environment; the rest is up to me.

My entire week has been like this, from family and friends to those I have always looked up to in awe.  This doesn't happen to people like me!  I'm a normal North-End girl, who lives in a 900 sq ft home, with a teenage son and a blue collar husband.  I'm not the advantaged Charleswood girl with the BMW's in the garage and parents who could buy the entire dealership if they wanted.  No one, in a professional sense, has done or said such things to me, has backed me up so thoroughly, has given me the confidence to think that maybe, just maybe, I really CAN do it.

A small part of me is waiting for it all to come crashing down.  Shit like this just doesn't happen in real life.  Maybe the joke is on me and I just haven't realized it yet.  And if that's the case, worst case scenario I come out with an advanced degree in Labour Studies. Who will be laughing then I wonder?

Sold my car yesterday.  It is the first sacrifice of many yet to come.  It was really, really hard; I so loved that car and the independence it provided me.  But, I just need to keep my eye on the prize, right?  The money will help pay for my studies and will ease the financial burden at home.  There is a purpose to all this.  One day in the not-so-distant future I will walk into a dealership and buy a brand-new car. 

In cash. 

And thumb my nose at all those who told me I couldn't do it.  Fuckers.

50 Things You Never Knew About Me

1.    Music In my car stereo (while I have a car anyway):  seems to alternate between Pink, Black Keys and Kate Nash

2.    Music In my iPod:  whatever the boy puts on it (screaming metal, really bad rap)

3.    Hair:  today blonde, tomorrow a mixture of everything

4.    Junk Food:  lays potato chips - plain

5.    Fruit:  cherries, apples, peaches

6.    Non-alcoholic drink:  anything caffeinated

7.    Alcoholic drink:  beer

8.    Dinner:  pizza, prime rib, or turkey with cranberry sauce

9.    Lunch:  beef taco salad with ranch dressing and hot sauce on the side

10.  Breakfast:  bacon and toast.  I only eat the eggs out of obligation.

11.  D, L or B:  Breakfast, hands down.  Mmm…bacon.

12.  Movie:  Erin Brokovich.  She proves that it’s perfectly acceptable being a legal powerhouse while dressing like a sex goddess

13.  Line in a Movie:  “Didn’t they teach you how to apologize in beauty school, because you suck at it.”

14.  Popcorn:  movie theatre popcorn with extra butter

15.  Exercise:  stair climber (desperately needed after eating all that crap!)

16.  Book:  oh, tough one.  Pass

17.  Shoe size:  9

18.  Inspirational Quote or Speech:  Barak Obama  – January 26, 2008:  “Yes, we can heal this nation. Yes, we can seize our future … that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we will hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubt and fear and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of the American people in three simple words -- yes, we can.”

19.  Day of the Week:  Saturday

20.  What do you put in your coffee:  2 sweetener, 2 milk

21.  Jam or butter on toast:  both works well for me

22.  Lipstick or chapstick:  lipstick

23.  Vacation spot:  climbing the red rocks of Prince Edward Island with my family of 3

24.  Season:  Not sure to which this refers so…pepper, and summer

25.  Ice cream:  choc/van twist

26.  Perfume:  Girl2

27.  Cologne:  As long as some is on, it’s all good

28.  Car:  Hyundai Genesis Coupe, red

29.  Fav thing to pass the time:  beer in one hand, smoke in the other

30.  Card game:  crib

31.  Board game:  boulderdash

32.  Video game:  pac man, man!

33.  Worst way to die:  by drowning

34.  Chocolate bar:  Hershey’s

35.  Flower:  pink roses and red tulips

36.  Cold or roasted marshmallows?  Roasted!  Between 2 graham crackers and a piece of chocolate (see No. 34 above), I’m in heaven.

37.  Side of the bed:  right

38.  Shower – morning or night?  Morning!

39.  Pyjamas?  Always.

40.  Wear glasses?  Only when I’m on the computer

41.  Are you a nerd?:  Abso-fuckin-lutely!

42.  Nationality:  Ukrainian, and I make killer perogies to prove it.

43.  Personality type?  Type A apparently

44.  Introverted or extraverted?  A little of both I think

45.  Fav fast food meal?  McDouble and small fries.  Oh yum.

46.  Halloween or Easter?  Who cares.

47.  If you could be anywhere right now where would it be?  Sitting in my backyard with my man, a beer in one hand and a smoke in another.

48.  Most embarrassing moment?  Tripping and falling flat on my face in a crowded bar and being sent home (same evening but much later) in a handicab.  I don’t think I will ever live that one down.

49.  Favourite moment?  Every time the boy talks to me with genuine enthusiasm/

50.  What is one thing most people don’t know about you:  I’m not who you think I am. 

I Feel a Change Brewing!

It's been almost 2 weeks since my last blog entry.  Hard to believe it's been that long.  On August 6, 2011, I had a full time job, money in the bank and the most fantastic car!  And now it's all changed.  *sigh* 

Because.....

Are you sitting down?

Ready?

I quit my job, sold my car, and put all my life savings (which, believe me, was quite dismal), into becoming a full time student next month!  Oh My God.

Shocking, I know.

I have the most incredible employer who has agreed to keep me on part-time, AND on my terms, AND at the same salary, pro-rated of course.  14 - 18 hours a week, depending on my course load requirements.  It is so much more than I could have ever asked for.

Jesus.  I will be 37 years old this year and I find myself a full time student once again.  I am fucking terrified.

I'm even giving up shoes for this!

And clothes!

And bags!

And jewellery!

And drinks after work with the girls!

And yeah, even smokes.  Shit.  I figure I need to quit sometime.  Now is as good a time as any now that I'm totally broke.

Stupid tuition.

I will take any offers of lunches, dinners or beer.  Your treat.

Confessions of a 36 Year Old University Student coming soon your way.

Sticks and Stones

Went to the most lovely bbq last night.  Our hostess made the most delicious bbq chicken-on-a-stick I've ever had.  I remember reading this article or watching some tv show about all sorts of food you can get on a stick.  Wieners, ice cream, pork, veggies, cotton candy, chicken, fruit, pickles, beef, chocolate..... the list is endless.  I remember back in my single days, the few times I could afford to go to the bar, my girlfriend and I would stop at the local 7-11 and buy deep-fried-chicken-on-a-stick and eat it while stumbling home at 2 in the morning.  I can't imagine eating anything at 2 in the morning anymore. Hell, I can't even imagine being awake at 2 in the morning anymore.

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Had an interesting conversation with a Grade 3/4 teacher last night.  A male Grade 3/4 teacher to be exact.  You really don't see many of those.  Anyway, I brought up the topic of how pot is the new alcohol of choice with teenagers these days.  Most teenagers could care less about drinking; it's all about the smoke.  Anyway, he was mentioning this stuff called synthetic marijuana.  It started as incense and is about 100 times as potent as what we know pot to be.  Popular in the US, apparently it's making it's way into Canada.  Christ, here's another thing to worry about.  It was interesting to see this teacher defend pot and make strong and valid statements as to why it should be legalized.  Privately I'm in agreement with him but the mom in me continues to waiver.  I just want my kid to concentrate on school and not have such distractions.  Is that too much to ask for?

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Lazy day in the 'Peg today.  I wish it would rain.  We haven't had rain in like, forever.  The apple tree is producing in abundance, but the apples are falling hard like little stones from the Gods.  Not good.  Looks like apple pies and apple cakes and apple sauces will be limited this year.  Sad state of affairs.

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A little shout-out to my new follower.  I now have THREE!!  Hey man, how's it going?  Haven't seen you in ages!  Still keeping the world safe from all the bad-guys?  You live a very unappreciated life my friend.  I don't know how you do what you do.

And, finally, in regards to a comment made about not being able to reply to a post - I'm looking into it right now.  Hopefully I can fix it and you'll be able to comment all you want sweetie, as long as it's complimentary of course.

Relax, Don't Do It.

That's been my motto this week:  Relax, Don't Do It.  In fact, don't do anything.  It feels good having a few days off, not doing much. 

The party went off without a hitch on Saturday.  The weather was as perfect as I could have asked for and we even got some people out on the boat tubing!  The threat of rain was strong all week, but we got nothin' but sun.  Perfect.

Home now for a couple days before heading off to Fargo where shopping awaits.  And then it's off to Detroit Lakes to meet up with some friends for the night.  And then it's back home for a couple days before reality hits us once again.

Work.

Ugh.

Something weird happened last week.  I saw 2 birds on my fence with their mouths open.  I can't help but wonder, do birds pant like dogs?

This Artiste is Not Very Cultured!

I.  Am. Crafty. I am!  I was in a fabric store AND a craft store all in one night this week.  AND I even crafted something all by myself.  Of course the lady at the fabric store had no problem displaying her utter disgust at my lack of knowledge of the "pinking shear".  Why can't I just use my kitchen scissors, I asked.  I mean, what's the big deal?  And what the hell are pinking shears anyway?  They make some sort of curvy design on the fabric?  Who cares?  I don't have the patience to discuss the merits of the Pinking Shear so I just went and did things my way.  I think she took my picture in the parking lot and put me on their "Banned from the Store" list.   She didn't like me very much; I didn't take her pinking shear lecture seriously.  Clearly she needs a life.

And then I went to Michael's, the craft store to buy....(are you sitting down?)....raffia ribbon.  I know, right?  Me!  In a craft store.  So I'm walking up and down isle after isle, getting more and more frustrated because I can't find the stuff.  I muttered out loud "This is exactly why I pay people to do shit."  My God, who has the patience to do all this stuff!  Scrapbooking and paints and brushes and loose flowers and patterns and.....fuck man!  Seriously???  So finally I asked and I found.  Did you know there's about a  billion colours of raffia ribbon?  Well there is.  I stood there forever. I had this piece of fabric in my purse.  It's beige cotton.  Nothing fancy.  But I really don't know colours.  (When we bought this house, we painted our bedroom twice because of my colour choices so I'm not kidding when I say I don't know colours.  I lack ANY creative style whatsoever.)  So, what the hell goes with beige?  A darker beige!  Same colour palate I figured, so it's got to work.

What am I doing with beige cotton fabric and darker beige raffia ribbon you're probably wondering, right?

I'm decorating thank-you-for-coming-(to my parent's anniversary party) little jam jars!

I think they sort of look like little Arabian Sheiks, all lined up in my old fridge downstairs, but I'm quite proud of them.  They will do.

I made strawberry freezer jam yesterday (1/3 of which did not set properly - apparently pectin has a shelf life of less than a year, incase you didn't know), and then decorated them all Arabian Sheik-like.  I even added a label and everything.  They disintegrate in water - the labels I mean, not the jars.  Cool, eh?  But it's all home-made, made in total frustration by yours truly.  *Beams!*

So the cultered part.  Why is this Artiste not cultured?

So last night The Man and I went to a "laser" show.  (pronounced Dr. Evil style - quotations and all)  It was a laser show set to Radiohead at the Planetarium.  Sounds cool, right?  I think the Laserist (and yes, that is what they call themselves) choose the most obscure, never-heard-of-EVER Radiohead songs.  Oh how I wished we popped some mushrooms before we went.  I think we might have actually enjoyed it then.

But that's not the cultured part.

See, the Fringe Festival is going on, and the venues are all over the place downtown.  There was one right by the entrance of the lazer show.  We decided to look at the billboard thinking that maybe this year we will see what all the hype is about.  But I'm afraid I just don't get it. Why one would pay money to watch a lone man on stage talk for an hour I will never understand.  I'd rather spend the evening plucking out my arm hairs, one-by-one, ... followed by a leisurely walk-through of the entire Michael's craft store.

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