Mere of Meditation

Reader Quiz

2006-12-28T14:31:00.000-08:00

I frequently get quizzes sent to me, but this is one I actually like from a teacher point of view.

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Literate Good Citizen You read to inform or entertain yourself, but you're not nerdy about it. You've read most major classics (in school) and you have a favorite genre or two.
Dedicated Reader
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Book Snob
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

NaNoWriMo 2006 -- Part One

2006-11-10T23:43:00.000-08:00

The following is my attempt at National Novel Writing Month for 2006. I make no guarantees nor apologies for its (lack of) quality. Nor will I claim that my novel is appropriate for all age groups. This is a first draft, and as such is completely unedited. This is also a work of fiction. Names, characters, places which bear any resemblance to any real person/place/thing is coincidental and should not be read as if it has any significance whatsoever. Should you continue to read, you do so entirely at your own risk.

You must love danger:-)

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Just how E had entered the darkness, she did not know. She could not remember arriving, only being here. And not being frightened. Intellectually she thought it odd that she wasn’t frightened by this absolute absence of visual stimuli, but she tried to silence her inner complainant so she could focus on the world around her. For while she had no idea where she was, she sensed that she was definitely somewhere and that this place was not just a room. This place was vast. She had no thought that she’d be able to walk to a wall and feel her way out. Well, she did have that thought, but she dismissed it as unlikely. But she tried anyway.

E stood, arms outstretched. Fingers reaching for surface. Finding only space. She waved her arms around her, not in panic, but in curiosity, before venturing to take a step. It had not occurred to her that the vastness of space around her that she felt so strongly might include the possibility that she was standing on the only space of floor. She took one step forward. And fell.

This was not the determined fall of a skydiver. Or the panicked fall of the murder victim. Or even the resigned fall of a suicide victim. This was the oddly welcoming fall that she had experienced over and over in her dreams. The type of fall where she could look out over all the world and revel in it grandeur. The type of fall where just as she began to close on the ground, and panic began to rise in her chest, she would suddenly discover a natural ability to fly.

But there was no world to look out on. Just black. No ground to sense approaching. Just black. No ability to fly. Just black.

The black reality of it all grew on E. The somewhat sudden realisation that she was utterly alone left her hollow. She could deal with the black. But alone? She’d never been alone in her life. Not for one day. In vain, she began grasping around her as she fell. Grasping for someone to hold onto. To save her from this isolation. To tell her what to do, what to think. But she fell. Alone.

There was a time when E would have given everything she had to be alone. To be free of the human relationships that she felt weighed her down, but from which she could not be released. While she loved her family, she had begun to hate the fact that they all seemed to need her so much. To rely on her.

She was oldest. Smartest. Most reliable. Most selfless. Most without a self. She had devoted herself to keeping the family together. Despite her father’s drunkenness, her brother’s addictions, her mother’s illness. She had held them all together. And in an odd way, they had kept her whole. She had no idea what it was like to not be needed. To do only what she wanted. But she didn’t want. She just gave. Herself. Her time. Her love. Her money. Her life.

When she was small, E always dreamed of running away to the circus. She wanted to be the pretty girl on the trapeze. She got to fly and spin to roars of applause. So E practised spinning and swinging on the cherry tree out back of the old house. She could even swing off upside down and land on her feet. But mostly she loved just hanging upside down looking at the house.

The house had been in the family for three generations. Great-Grandfather Wilmingstead had built it all by himself. He started with what was now the study. It was in the center of the house. It was a small room with a wooden stove and chimney and in the first days of the house, it was all there was. But it had a roof. And heat. And that was all Great-Grandmother had said she would need before she would come to the new world. So he had built it on the land he’d won in the poker game. Of course, he never told her that’s how he got it. He had “found gold and decided that land was a less dangerous way to hold capital”, so she’d sold the gold and bought the land. No one ever questioned the legend. He had all the papers. But Great-Grandma always knew. He never could really lie to her. Not really.

So the house started small. And each year, if the harvest was good, Great-Grandfather would add a room. First the bedroom – now the den. Then the kitchen. Great-Grandmother wanted a real kitchen. And an icebox. She was tired of having to trek out to the cold-frame to get her food, only to find that the foxes had found a way in again. Next, they added the front porch. And a bathroom… with plumbing! And a second bedroom. For the kids. Then they extended the porch. The dining room came next. Great-Grandfather was becoming quite the local celebrity. He’d just been elected to council and Great-Grandmother insisted that she couldn’t hold the dinner parties expected of them in an old, lean-to kitchen.

When Great-Grandfather died, the house was fifty years old. Great-Grandmother couldn’t run the farm alone, so her oldest son, E’s grandfather, stayed on. When he got married, he decided the house was too small to raise another family, but Great-Grandmother wouldn’t let him move. So, just like his father, he added onto the original. Only this time he built up. Grandfather built the second floor, one piece at a time.

E’s father, D, used to tell stories of the year that the staircase went up to nothing. No door, no second floor, just the rafters. Seemed Grandfather could afford to build the stairs that year and nothing else. D used to hide up there when his father started drinking. The harvest had been bad that year and he had promised Grandmother a new bedroom upstairs, but he just couldn’t deliver. He was frustrated. And took it all out on those who ‘cramped his space’. Grandmother used to send the kids outside when he got into one of his moods, but it didn’t always work. It’s hard to run outside when there’s two feet of snow. So they’d hide in the stairwell to nowhere.

The next year, Grandfather ‘came into’ some money. Grandmother used to say that he’d sold part of the land. But Great-Grandmother said he just started playing poker like his father. Said she made him quit after he’d won the jackpot. So he started working on the house again.

Unlike his father who had built the house to meet the needs of an increasingly larger family, C built because he couldn’t bear sitting around. He needed to do something. Great-Grandmother wouldn’t let him gamble. Grandmother wouldn’t let him drink. The kids wouldn’t let him be. So he locked himself up the stairs and built.

Great-Grandmother had only wanted a bedroom, but her husband was determined to give her much more than that. Each evening, after he had worked all day on the farm, Grandfather would skip up the stairs and start banging and sawing away. He wouldn’t let anyone help. Or see what he was doing. He had covered the outside with tarpaulins, so from the yard you could only tell that the house was getting taller. He would work up there for hours after supper. Until bedtime. He’d call down a good night to the kids from above their bedroom, but he wouldn’t leave the top floor until his lamp burnt down. Then he’d faithfully lock the door and creep quietly down the stairs to bed.

The day that Grandfather finished the second story was one that E had heard about her entire life. It was the bane of her father’s existence. He moaned about it every time he got drunk. He’d talk about how the birds sang more sweetly than ever. The way the sun glistened on the dew. The way the air smelled fresh and new.

Grandfather invited the family into the yard for the unveiling. He let the kids pull the rope on the tarpaulins. They fluttered in the breeze, then dropped to the house’s foundations. And there, above the old, lovingly pieced together first floor, was a Victorian second story. Complete with gingerbread accents. It was remarkable. Grandfather had carved every intricate detail himself. Hammered every nail.

The neighbours didn’t know what to think of this Victorian level perched upon the old family cabin style first floor. The family just wanted to see inside. Grandmother was allowed up the stairs first. She had no idea what awaited her behind the door. She climbed the stairs carefully, making sure to hitch her skirts out of the way. She inserted the skeleton key Grandfather had given her and turned the knob. As she stepped onto the landing, she gasped and the kids rushed forward to see.

The landing was bathed in sunlight. Looking up, the kids expected to see a lightbulb. Instead they looked up, and up, and up. The skylight seemed so far away. The landing was flanked by six doors. Each one a different colour. Each one bearing a name. One room for each of the children, one for their parents, and, most thrilling of all, a second bathroom.

The extra rooms meant that Great-Grandmother, who has persisted into her nineties and still lived with the family, would finally get her own room back on the main floor. No longer would she have to share with her four grandchildren. Nor would they all have to scramble to share the same bathroom that Great-Grandfather had built sixty years before. At last they could all have some privacy.

NaNo 2005

2006-10-10T23:35:00.000-07:00

Well November is on its way, which means another attempt at NaNoWriMo.  I never did post my ‘novel’ from last year (3109 words), so here it is for anyone who cares.  Beware, it contains some ‘mature’ content… but mostly very immature, poorly written content.  Proceed at your own risk.

     “Run!  Get away!  He’s coming right for you… Don’t just stand there like an idiot.  I said run!”
     “Oh shut up!  No one paid to hear you yell at the screen!”
And the popcorn rained down on Angélique’s head.  She was just thankful that tonight the barrage didn’t include pop.  That was a bitch to get out of rayon.
Fed up with the stupidity of the film, and her own stupidity for getting sucked in and actually caring about one-dimensional stereotypical characters, she crouched and ran out of the theatre.
     She didn’t usually react that way to films, but she didn’t usually go see slasher flicks either.  She preferred romantic and thoughtful foreign films.  But they always reminded her of Darren.  Well, not so much reminded her of him, but didn’t do enough to distract her thoughts.  She was always thinking of him.  What she should have done, should have said.  A futile waste of precious brainpower.  That’s what he would have called all this brooding, but he was causing her to waste all this energy, so it was really all his fault.
“Stupid waster,” she muttered as she ducked into the foyer… and promptly ran into a red flannel chest.  “Oh… sorry.  I didn’t see you there.”
     “Hard to see whatyer not lookin’ at.”
     “Uh, yes I guess it is.”  Angélique took the opportunity to finally look at the wall of a man standing in front of her.  A red flannel checked shirt, jeans, suspenders, and a toque.  Definitely not normal movie garb.  Then it dawned on her.  “Python fan by any chance?”
     He chuckled.  “Fan?  Well, not really.  Just working.  I’m part of the singalong stage cast.  Getting ready for the 9:30 show”  He thrust out his hand.  “Jack.”
     “Angélique” she said, shaking his hand.  “So are you one of the straight lumberjacks, or the poufter?  Oh god, I can believe I just asked that.  It’s just that in the sketch, there’s –“
     “A lumberjack in a dress.  I got it.  Not a problem.”
     “I still feel like an idiot.  I’m not usually so forward… or incompetent… or…”
     “Covered in popcorn?”  He reached out a hand and plucked a perfectly puffed yellow blossom from her hair.
     “Uh, no.  This isn’t my usual look.  I guess I just got a little carried away with the movie and the other ticket buying public didn’t really appreciate my editorializing.”
     “Then you should come to the singalong tonight.  I can get you in.  People love that stuff there.  You can tell the Frenchmen to stuff it as loud as you want.  ”
     “And risk being crushed by a cow?  No thank you,” she laughed.  “But thanks for the invite.  I think I need to go home and clean up.  I don’t think I’ll last long reeking of popcorn.”
     “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.  I’ll be playing all week.”  And with a wink, he strode off into theatre C.

     She stood still for a moment, then pulled her jaw off the floor and took a deep breath.  ‘What an ass!’ she thought.  ‘Just watch him be the gay one.’  Then checking to see that no one was looking, she shook the loose popcorn out of her long mane of auburn hair and quickly walked out to her car.
     She loved her car.  It wasn’t anything special or new, but it was finally hers.  She even admired all the dents she had not-so-lovingly tattooed onto its once brilliant pink surface.
“You bought a pink car?” her ex had incredulously screamed.  Well, yeah.  It’s a car and it’s pink, but it was much more than just a ‘pink car’.  Darren saw the car as the epitome of demasculisation and refused to ride in it.  Which turned out to be a good thing really.  Now that she had a car, she didn’t need to rely on Darren for transport anymore.  Not that she couldn’t cope without a ride.  She had taken public transit her whole life up until the time she started dating Darren.  But he insisted that she always ‘get a lift’.  The world was a ‘dangerous place’ and public transit was no place for his special girl.  That seemed sweet… for the first few months.  Then Angélique began to really hate his insistence that he control their every outing.
     Her new car allowed her to move more independently.  She no longer had to ask Darren for rides, or arrange to get picked up when she went out.   They still went out together, just in separate vehicles.  Darren wouldn’t ride in the ‘chickmobile’ as he called it, and she usually just wanted to practice driving her own car.  So they met places.  And left separately.  And soon enough, just started going separate places.  Well, she tried to go separate places.  Now that she could travel without having to rely on Darren, he kept calling her, always asking her where she was and when she’d be home.  He’d never been like this before, but he’d always driven her everywhere, so he never had to ask before either.  And all this calling was making Angélique feel trapped.  She had never believed Darren when he said she must have just bought the pink car in an underhanded attempt to get rid of him – she had just always really liked the colour and as the display model from the breast cancer promotion it was on sale – but she could see now how her car had really helped her to see the light.  Darren was a controlling, manipulative, jerk… and her pink car had saved her.
     She could still feel the bruise from when he had pushed her into the side of his car.  But the bruise would fade away.  What she would never forget was the blissful sight of Darren getting smaller and smaller in her rearview mirror as she drove away from him forever that night… in her pink car.
     She had decided a few days earlier to leave Darren, but he was out of town and she didn’t just want to leave him a note.  She had dropped by his place while he was gone.  His roommate Bert let her in.  And she picked up all the stuff she’d left there in the months they’d been together.  She had arranged to pick him up at the airport.  In his car of course.  That’s when she had planned to tell him.  On the drive home.  But when he got off the plane, he was a little drunk.
     “You know, I been thinkin’ we should move in together.  You know, save all that drivin’ back and forth.”
     What a romantic thought! Move in together.  Why?  Because I love you and want to be with you always?  No!  I’m too cheap to buy gas, that’s why.
     Angélique had no idea what to say.  There was really no good way to put it.
     “Actually, Darren. I’ve been thinking while you’ve been gone too.  I don’t think this is working out.  I’ve –“  SLAM!  He body checked her into the right fender.
     “You what?  I’ve been busting my butt all these months, pretending to like ballet and even washing your friggin dog, and it’s ‘not working out’?  What the hell does that mean?”
     Darren was never the brightest of the guys she’d dated, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him.  He was the only guy she’d ever met whose language improved when he was drunk.  Too bad his grasp on reality wasn’t affected in the same way.
     “I don’t even have a ‘friggin’ dog.  And even I hate ballet.  Who do you think you’re talking to?”  And that was it.  It was over.
     She was single again, and as she awakened from her reverie and checked her rearview mirror, it dawned on her that the lumberjack was just inside the cinema.  She didn’t really have anywhere to go.  At home she’d only be faced with all the boxes she had yet to unpack.  And she did really love the Python movies.  And singing.
     She checked her hair for stray popcorn, grabbed her hairband off the gearshift, and got out of the car.  One last check.  Lipgloss in the side view mirror.  Then she waltzed right back into the theatre.
     “One for Monty Python, please.”
     “Uh, yeah,” said the cashier.
     “Is there a problem?  Is it sold out?”
     “Uh, no, it’s just.  Weren’t you just in here a minute ago?”
     “Yes, actually, I was.  Why?”
     “Covered in popcorn?”
     “What!”
     “It’s just that’s what the note says: ‘Pass to Python for Popcorn Hair Hottie.’ “
     “Oh.  Well I guess that’s me.  So, I don’t need a ticket?”
     “Nope.  Just tell the usher you’re popcorn girl and go right in.”
Popcorn girl?  No, even better Popcorn Hottie.  A few minutes ago she would have probably just left of embarrassment, but she had to admit, it had been a long time since anyone had called her ‘hot’.  And even if it was only on a Post-it, it still was a good ego boost.  She could even have some fun with this one maybe.
     She wandered over to theatre C and waltzed up to the usher.
     “Ticket please,” he said mechanically.
She leaned in to him, her long hair falling forward.  “Smell,” she said.  The usher just looked confused.  Then putting on her best sexy voice, she whispered in his ear, “I’m Poppy.”  The usher still looked dumbfounded.  Then a wave a realization passed across his face.
“Oh, I get it.  Poppy.  Popcorn and hottie, right?  Ha ha.  Yeah, go on in.”
Then he laughed.  It was at that point she remembered exactly why she had stopped dating younger men.  They never got it the first time.  Their brains always seemed to work like old computers.  It took them forever to compute, and even then they didn’t always even appreciate the simple beauty of the program.  At least Lumberjack wasn’t younger.  Or at least he didn’t look it.
     Come to think of it, he was the only theatre employee who didn’t look adolescent.  Is that a requirement of all theatre employees?  That whatever their age, they always look about 17, and have really bad acne?  She chuckled as she considered that her little tease was probably the most action the usher would see in weeks.  Yeah, he could sneak girls in and that might get him some action, but realistically who’s at the theatre to pick up on a Monday night?
     Then again, who would think to meet a Lumberjack at the movies.  She ducked up the theatre stairs, and grabbed an aisle seat.  Then the first actor came out to introduce the event.  And it dawned on her.  Her lumberjack wasn’t really some great adventurous Canadien.  He was an actor.  An actor who worked the Monday shift.  At Monty Python singalongs.
“Great,” she groaned.  Well, at least she got in free and she could sneak out early before he saw her there.  The lumberjacks weren’t until much later in the film.  She’d have lots of time to escape.  Or so she thought.
“Hi,” someone whispered behind her.  “I was hoping you’d come.”
     With all the shuffling of the audience, she couldn’t tell where the voice came from until she felt the tall mass crouching down beside her.  Lumberjack was there on the stairs.
     “Oh, yeah.  Well I like Python a lot,” she began whispering.  “Eric Idle wrote such great lyrics.  But Michael Palin’s really my favourite.”
     “SHHH!” hushed the people in front of her.
Lumberjack laughed quietly,     “I can see how you get popcorn in your hair.  We haven’t even started and you’re ticking people off.”
     She wanted to just sink in her seat, but the upholstery was sticky, so instead she made to get up.
     “Oh, don’t go.  Just ignore them.  They’ve been here five times already anyway.  I gotta go get ready.  Will you be here after?  I want to take you for coffee.”
     “Uh—“ she began, not sure how to decline without further pissing off the hushers.
     “You do drink coffee don’t you?  It’s okay.  They have tea and stuff too.  And really good coffee cake.  But it doesn’t actually have any coffee in it, in case you don’t drink it.  Pretty stupid name for it then really.”
     She giggled.  She had been going to sneak out, but his rambling was just so cute.  He was nervous.  Well, either that or he lacked conversational skills, but going to coffee and confirming that would at least make her feel better about not really going out with him.  It was only coffee.  And cake.  But cake doesn’t have to mean anything.
     By the time she had finished rationalizing everything, he had gone and the opening credits were running.  “Always look on the bright side of life,” they sang.  Why not?  She decided to just settle in and enjoy.  And go for coffee.  For cake.
     The show was cool.  And after they went next door for coffee.  She felt a little odd walking into the café with a Lumberjack, but the staff all greeted him as he came in, so it wasn’t too bad.  They grabbed a bistro table near the coffee bar and the barista leaned over and asked for orders.
     “I’ll have my regular.  And…”
     “Oh, a skinny decaf mocha please.”
The barista popped back behind the machinery, and the steam powered beast came to life.  A few minutes passed in silence, then their orders arrived.
     “Thanks… So.”
     “So.”  At this rate she’d never find out if he could converse.
     “What’s your ‘regular’?”
     “A double tall extra hot doppio with caramel drizzle.  And a coffee cake.  Not the healthiest of post-show snacks, but you gotta have some vices, right?”
     “Yeah, I guess.”
     If he considered coffee and cake to be vices, she hated to think what he thought of all the standard vices.  Not that she had many.  She was pretty much clean now that she’d dumped Darren.  Stupid men.  Could that be an addiction?  She could just see it now:
     “Hi.  My name is Angélique and I’m a stupidmanaholic”
     “Hello Angélique.”
     “I have been an addict for 14 years, since high school.  I always had lots of guys ask me out, but I only ever chose the dumbest ones.  I know I have a problem and I want to change.   I want –“
     “So,” he said quizzically, snapping her out of her reverie, “what’s your sign?”
     “My sign?  Really?”
     “Well, not really.  I just couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say.  And you’ve just seen me in this really dumb theatre thing, so I’ve been trying to think what to say to sound intelligent.”
     “Well, I don’t think of Python as dumb theatre.  I actually considered doing my thesis on their contribution to humour.”
     “Oh.”  The dejected look on Lumberjack’s face told her that was absolutely not the right way to go about helping the conversation.
     “Oh.  No… sorry.  I didn’t mean to sound offended.  I was just.  Sorry.  I haven’t done this in a long time.”
     “You mean talk to people?”
     “No.  I mean date.  Oh—“
     “Hey, it’s okay.  I’m good with calling this a date.  Besides this has been the longest conversation I’ve had with a woman in a long time.”
     “Really?”  Okay.  This doesn’t sound good.  What’s the exit strategy?  Finish the coffee, then leave.  Or spill some coffee and sneak to the WC and out?
     “Yeah, but that sounds really lame doesn’t it?  I mean, it’s the longest English conversation I’ve had with a woman recently.  I’ve been working overseas… not many English speakers.”
     “Oh.  I see.”  Okay.  That’s better.
Then awkward silence.  Sips of coffee.  And toying with the coffee cake.  And more silence.
     “Good coffee,” she said.  Vainly trying to jumpstart the conversation.
     “Yeah.  I come here all the time.  The cake’s the best.  Want some?”  He held a fork out on offer.
     “Well, as long as it doesn’t have any nuts in it.  I mean it looks great, but I’m allergic.”
     “Really?  Me too!  It’s nut-free.  And so’s the Danish.  And the chocolate biscotti.  Weird eh?”
     “What?  Biscotti without nuts?”     “No, just that we’re both allergic.”
     “Right.  Look, I don’t know that this is really going to work.  You haven’t spoken to women in a while, I’m just getting over a bad breakup with a guy who wouldn’t let me talk to other guys.  Talking doesn’t seem to be a winning idea.”
     He didn’t agree with her right away.  He didn’t disagree either.  He got up from his chair and walked out the door of the café.  She was stunned.  She’d cut dates short before, but she’d never been the one left at the table.  She stared into her coffee, then took a long, slow sip.  All she could think was that she wished it had had caffeine.
     Then the bell on the café door tinkled and a tall man wearing a plaid shirt was standing beside her.
     “Hi, I’m Jack.  Is this seat taken?  Mind if I sit down?”
He took the seat.  She giggled.  He smiled.  But she kept laughing.
     “Is there a problem?  Did I sit on something?”
     “No,” she tittered, “it’s your name.”
     “Jack?  What’s so funny about that?”
     “You know.  Jack… the lumberjack.”  She laughed again, flashing a big smile.  He couldn’t help but join in, and notice how her brown eyes lit up when she laughed.
     “I’d never really noticed that before.  It is kind of odd.”
Soon she stopped laughing.   She stared into her coffee again.  Jack stared at her.
     “Well?”  He asked.
     “Well what?”
     “Isn’t this the part where you tell me your name?”
     “Oh, sorry.  I’m Angélique.”
     “You sure?  I heard your name was Poppy,” he laughed.  A nice deep chuckle.  “Sorry.  Brad never could keep quiet.  It’s all over the theatre.  Some old broad made a pass at him.  He’s thrilled to finally get at least some action.”
     “Thanks a bunch.  ‘Old broad’, eh?”
     “Hey, his words not mine, Angel.  Can I call you Angel?”  Puppy dog eyes.
     “Yeah,” she sighed.  She never let anyone call her Angel, but for some reason at this precise moment in time, she really didn’t mind. “As long as you tell me what Jack is short for.”
     “Short for.  Nothing.  My name is just ‘Jack’.  It’s on my Drivers’ License and everything.  Wanna see?”
     “No, just checking.  I guess my ex was really wrong then.  When I left he said I wouldn’t succeed because I ‘didn’t know Jack’, but now that I do, I guess I can’t fail, eh?”  Jack laughed again and stared deep into her eyes.  He leaned forward across the table.
     “Now, how about that cake?”

Ashland's over

2006-08-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

Well, I was so busy the last few days in Ashland that I didn't even bother to see if the computer was free. Tuesday we saw "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" in the Bower theatre. Neat place. It seats 600, but only has aisles on the sides, so the rows are very long but it means everyone gets to be closer to the stage. I went to dinner before the play with some folks from class. We ate at a restaurant outside next to the creek that runs through downtown. It was really nice. Apparently we're an unusual group for a Summer Institute in that we socialized lots out of class, but it seemed pretty normal to us. In the play, the lead actor, James Newcombe, was amazing, despite the fact that hardly any of us really loved the way he was directed in the part. He came and spoke to us Wed. morning and, while he was very subtle about it, it was fairly clear that he wasn't yet happy with the production. Of course, we did see only its second performance after only two previews, so there are still a few kinks to work out in the process. The most contentious issue among us was the transformation from Jekyll to Hyde. This is the first production to use only one actor to portray both, so there are no prostetics or makeup for Hyde... he moved more freely and quickly than Jekyll and was much more childlike in his demeanor. We also argued about the script. This one (David Edgar) introduces a backstory for Jekyll: his father ignored him and favoured his sister. So there's a Freudian justification for his actions as Hyde. I thought that was a cop out really. When I read the novella, which I finished the afternoon of the play, the whole point seemed to be that Hyde's evil comes from his own (and society's) repression of emotion. We did have really good discussion about the play though, so it worked for our purposes;-)

Wednesday we did more scoring in the poetry section, and other stuff. After class (can you tell which is more interesting?), I went to dinner with Sylvia (our instructor) and Jon (the other "experienced" AP teacher) at an Italian restaurant. Jon and I split the four-course dinner. Not cheap, but very good. Then I walked to the theatre. We were in the outdoor theatre this time for Cyrano. It was amazing!!!!!!!!!!! Even more so because the lead actor was the understudy in only his second performance. Wow! So awesome. Totally worth the drive! Of course, he dies at the end, so it's super tragic... I cried all the way back to the dorms. But the translation they used really worked. I wasn't sure which one they were using, and it turned out they adapted the three Burgess translations together. The dramaturg for the production, Barry Kraft, came to speak with us on Thursday. That way cool too. He's currently playing Lear in the Marin Shakespeare Festival, so he even performed a bit.

Thursday and Friday were more classes. Of course the fun parts were the meals. Thursday I went out with a group to the Standing Stone Brewery. We stayed for hours. The food was good, but the company was what took so long;-) Yesterday, I went for lunch after class was over to Dragonfly. I'd read reviews about it and it was as good as all the hype.

After lunch I went back to finish my shopping at the gift shop. I won't be getting much at the outlet malls unless it's absolutely perfect... I've probably already spent my limit:-) I did, however, get a poster for free. They gave me the sample of the Heraldry poster because they weren't going to carry it any more. I love free stuff! Anyway, I left Ashaland about 2.30 and drove up I-5 to Salem. I stopped in Albany for dinner and a break from sitting, but got to the hotel about 7p m. This place is great. I have an executive King suite, which is just as neat as it sounds, but only cost me $74. But King beds are HUGE. It took more effort to get out this morning than getting out of bed really should;-) Anyway, I'm going to go grab breakfast then go off to the Oregon Garden. I'll stop in at the Woodburn outlets, and maybe swing by the ones at the Gorge, but not shopping a lot won't bother me. I'm planning to go to Waye's tonight, so I'll call him later when I have a better idea of when. Anyway, see you all later.

Ashland Day 5

2006-08-01T13:31:00.000-07:00

Well, I've just completed two days of classes. So far, so good. I already have TONS of paper to go through, but it all looks useful. There are only twenty or so in my class, most from Oregon and California, but a few from Washington, and another Canadian too. It IS a small world though. My roomie is a lady who has just been hired at Woodland HS, so she'll be working with my cousin who also just was hired there. And the other Canadian worked with Mom and P.W. Who knew?

The campus and town here are very small. I'd bet UBC is bigger than the whole thing really... at least in terms of the walking distances between the dorms and our classroom. Not even a mile. Somehow things always look bigger on maps. The room isn't huge either. We each have a closet (one side has a shelf and drawers, hanging on the other), a bed, and a desk with two bookshelves above. The dorm is perfectly situated, however, mere metres from Starbucks (even closer than the plaza to school) and a grocery store, so I'm having no trouble at all feeding myself. My room also has a fridge, but my roomie has a meal card, so it's all mine... all two cubic feet of it! We also have A/C which is great, even though we haven't needed it lots so far. Now the only obstacle to good sleep is the bed, which is really very hard, but at least it's not lumpy. Can't complain much at this price really.

Today we started scoring papers. Only two of us have taught AP before, so that was quite interesting. The rubric was new to everyone else, so we only did a couple before we took a break. We'll score poetry tomorrow though and that's the one I'm really looking forward to because it's the question I think many of my students didn't do well on.

Tonight we're going to see Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in the Bowmer theatre (the one I haven't seen a play in yet), which is indoors. And tomorrow we see Cyrano in the Elizabethan theatre (open like the Globe). Both should be great. The weather has cooled down a bit though, so I may actually need my blanket this time, unlike last Friday when it was still pretty warm in the evening.

We've made some 'adjustments' to our class schedule so we got out early today... this computer may not have been free otherwise, but I might be offline until later this week. End submission. ;-)

Ashland Day 3

2006-07-30T09:03:00.000-07:00

I saw the Folio and King John yesterday. Good stuff. The theatre for King John is really quite small, but the staging was neatly done... except for the part where Arthur is supposed to leap from the wall... no jumping quite logically, but they did some lame video of the actor jumping with corny sound effects on the backdrop while she snuck down the back stairs. Kinda cheap... and she didn't 'play dead' very well do start with. Too stiff. All those years doing lifesaving simulations really makes me sensitive to playing unconscious and dead well:-) The rest of the play was great though. The program said something about Shakespeare relegating the female characters (Eleanor, Constance, and Blanche) to minor roles, different from their real-life roles, but I think they almost stole the show. Yeah they cry and whine a bit, but they have reason to. And they did it soooo well. Oh well, guess I'll just have to go read the play and see what I think of the unedited text. Anyway, I'm just about to check out of the hotel in Medford and head off to the backstage tour. TTFN.

Ashland Day 1

2006-07-29T00:09:00.000-07:00

Hi All,
I got here from Wayne's without any trouble, which is certainly more than I can say for my trip to Wayne's... lets just say I'm not really fond of border lines, Sea-Tac traffic, or construction. Anyway, I got here about 4pm and checked in to my hotel in Medford. I'm staying at the Windmill Inn and so far it's great. That may change after breakfast tomorrow, but it sounds good:-) It's a pet friendly hotel and the American Kennel Club has some folks... and dogs staying here as they're performing/showing at the county fair or something like that, but I haven't really heard any of them, so it shouldn't be a problem. The pet-friendly thing is obviously a big seller for the chain. They have doggie biscuits at the front desk and everyroom has two door signs: one is the standard "do not disturb"/"make up room" sign while the other is "pet in room". Kinda funny walking down the halls to see all these pet signs, but I guess then housekeeping, etc. won't let them escape if they come to deliver/clean. The whole place is also smoke-free. They even have a declaration on the check-in card about it. Cool. A definite change from Europe. They also have a computer, upon which I'm typing this, in the lobby. And it's free. Another improvement on Europe:-)

After dinner (left over Alfy's from lunch yesterday :-) and left over salad from lunch today ... I LOVE my cooler bags and those ice packs!) I went to Ashland. I drove down I-5 to get there. It's really only a 15 minute drive as it's only 12-miles to the south end of town (that's the end where the Univ. is so I drove past to scope it out a bit). Then I drove over to the Shakespeare Festival and parked in the public parkade there. Okay, so parking doesn't sound exciting, but it's $3 for the whole day! Ah! B-lot memories ;-) Anyway, I walked the few metres to the festival and the "Green Show" was on. It's a dance/music performance they have in the 'courtyard' between the theatre entrances each night at 7pm (shows start at 8.30). It was pretty neat, but I couldn't resist scoping out the gift shop before the show. There is WAAAYY too much stuff for me to buy here. I think the only things I didn't want were the Shakespeare bobblehead and the action figures... cause I already have them! Sooo annoying to know I only have $300 duty free... and that doesn't go as far when our dollar is doing well. Any chance it'll tank on Monday after I've paid my hotel??? Nah, I didn't really think so either.

Yes, I did actually get to the show. Tonight I say "Two Gentlemen of Verona" and it was very good, but I have to say the dog really stole the show. Maybe that's why Shakespeare never wrote another play with a dog as a main player? The entire production was very well done. Laura would've loved it too. Verona as Amish-ish country, Milan looked like a fashion catalogue (you know, polo shirts and argyle sweaters... and tennis whites), and the exiles in the forest were full-on punk. I'm absolutely convinced that some of the costumes either came from Hot Topic or are already in Laur's closet;-) I have to see if they have any pictures of them in the gift shop... maybe a postcard:-) The theatre itself is really cool too... nope, I take that back... it's in Ashland so it's really very hot and stuffy. But I'm pretty sure that's why the shows start so late. This one was in the outdoor theatre that looks an awful lot like the Globe. I had a 'cheap' seat at the back of the main floor, but it was a great seat. Maybe not as cool as the ones without the balcony overhang, but a terrific view. The seats for Cyrano next week (for the AP course)will probably be the 'better' ones though... they charged us enough for them.

Well, I've rambed enough and it's 12.25 so I better go crash. Gotta be in Ashland for the folio by 11.30 so I may get to sleep in a bit. TTFN.

Christmas rocks!

2005-12-25T15:20:00.000-08:00

I just got my prezzie from K... yes, it's really Jayne's hat! She knitted it. She's amazing. It's even all acrylic so it won't make me sneeze. And it's very warm. Great for those cold mornings on the way to school :-)

And yes, if you don't know who Jayne is or why his hat is important, you must watch the entire season of Firefly... okay, well the hat's only important in one episode, but watch the whole season anyway:-)

Pictures!

2005-08-24T13:11:00.000-07:00

I've posted some of my best pics on my fotopic page. http://soserene.fotopic.net
I didn't resize the pictures yet, so you can only really look at the thumbnails, but I hope to get around to that soon. I have posted some of the pics below in my blog as well. Let me know what you think. Obviously with 1500+ pictures I can't share them all, but I'll try ;-)

2005-08-24T13:08:00.000-07:00

Land's End, the westernmost point in England.

2005-08-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

Big Ben from the Big Bus. Cool clouds.

2005-08-24T13:04:00.000-07:00

The view up the Eiffel Tower from the first observation deck.

2005-08-24T13:03:00.000-07:00

The view across the river in Florence at night.

2005-08-24T12:59:00.000-07:00

The 'Wien Riesenrad' (Vienna's Giant Ferris Wheel) at the Prater at night.

2005-08-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

The 'back garden' at Sch�nbrunn Palace in Vienna.

2005-08-24T12:55:00.000-07:00

"Sound of Music" country. The film was made near here.

2005-08-24T12:52:00.000-07:00

Amsterdam -- My favourite houseboat on the canals. It's moored a few metres from Anne Frank's Huis.

The Trippers Return

2005-08-13T15:43:00.000-07:00

Hi All! I'm home! Finally! That last flight was hell. Not a bad flight in and of itself actually, but I wanted it to end after only 2 hours in as I was just sick of sitting and waiting to get here. I did buy a new book just before the flight though, so it wasn't sooo bad... and yes, Jasper Fforde's other series rocks too... go Jack Spratt! :-) We arrived in Calgary 35 minutes early, but YVR wasn't ready for us, so we had to sit there for about another 45 minutes... annoying! Anyway, we arrived in Vancouver ahead of schedule (yay!) and had no trouble getting through customs and getting our luggage. That was a relief. I kinda shopped my way around Europe, so I wasn't sure that would happen;-)
So far I've managed to have a relatively normal sleep schedule... well, normal for regular people. Today I woke up at 4am, then went back to sleep about 5 so I could sleep in... until 10. I was not impressed. Apparently my skill for record naps has disappeared. Oh well. I was really productive yesterday though. I got up at 6am and did 6 loads of laundry. No, it wasn't all from my suitcase, but I had other stuff in my room that needed divested of the dust from the floor finishing. Glad I missed that actually.
The night I arrived, we had a family dinner here and I managed to stay up until 10:30 or so. Not counting my half-hour nap on the plane, that was 24 1/2 hours awake since my 6am UK time alarm. So I guess I'm not doing too badly really. That night, I also downloaded all my pictures onto my computer. All 1500+ of them. Needless to say I have some organising to do. I don't even really have any to delete as I erased the crappy pictures as soon as I had taken them, but I have lots that will make no sense until I label them. Unfortunately, my computer hasn't been working right since I got home. I still can't download or send email from my normal programme (still doing webmail is annoying), but I have fixed some bits. I'm not in exactly the best thinking mode though, so I'm sure it's taking me longer than normal. It would be nice to think clearer soon as I still need to get organised for school this year, but I'm still unpacking so that will have to wait anyhow.

Leaving Ireland :-(

2005-08-10T05:46:00.000-07:00

Well, our plane leaves for Gatwick in 6 hours. I'm just killing time waiting for Steph and Laura to get back to the hostel. We've left our stuff in the luggage room, and it's only open on the hour, so we're going to retrieve it at 2pm... 10 minutes to be precise. We're going to taxi to the airport as we have too many bags to really take the bus comfortably. We'll have lots of time at the airport, but we'd really rather be early than late. We packed last night so we could avoid it today, ate breakfast, then went to take the guided tour of Dublin Castle. It was neat, but I think the best part was the view of the garden from the castle. Celtic knots in grass:-) Then we split up as Laura wanted to go look at a skirt she'd been eyeing, and I wanted to go see Oscar Wilde's statue. It took me a while to find as I first went to St. Stephen's Green (only Joyce and Yeats are there, and I could really care less if I saw their statues). Wilde is up in Merrion Square, across from his childhood home. He is the only coloured statue in Dublin. All the rest are just bronze. My time's running out. See you all soon.

Ireland 2

2005-08-09T12:57:00.000-07:00

Hi again. I've decided to procrastinate from packing by posting again. What a shock, eh? :-) Our first night in Dublin, I met up with some of the folks from the tour at the Arlington hotel for the free Irish dance and music show. It was awesome. The dancers performed (adapted) numbers from Riverdance and the band was great. I bought their CDs and they signed them. [Take that 'Cow-Tippers' ;-) ] We had a good night, except for the girl who had been pickpocketed on the way to the show. But we got her all sorted and she ended up having a good time in the end too.

Yesterday, we slept in, but did still manage to make it down to breakfast. The really hard part was moving after we had returned to our room. Actually after breakfast I walked down the street to the pharmacy because my knee was really bugging me and I foolishly didn't pack my knee brace;-) After I returned we were still really not energetic at all. So we went shopping:-) We ventured down to Temple Bar and then Grafton Street. Steph managed to find U2's hotel too, so she was happy:-) We had dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe (thanks Joe!), then wandered home.

Today we got up earlier, ate breakfast, then walked to St. Patrick's Cathedral to 'hop-on' the City Tour. Steph and Laura rode about 2 stops before getting off to tour the Guinness Storehouse. I stayed on and toured until we arrived at the Dublin Writers' Museum. It was really quite neat, but not the best laid out museum I've ever seen. Admission included an audioguide, but there was so much information posted on the walls that it took forever just to get through the three rooms of the museum (small but wordy:-) ). I shopped a bit in the gift store, then caught the bus over to Trinity College.

Trinity is cool. I took the student-led tour. It's only 30 minutes or so and costs €10, but includes the Book of Kells entrance fee too. Plus it comes with a really cute tour guide, so it's all worth it;-)

The book of Kells exhibition was very good, but very busy (though less so than it often is so I'm told). They have displays explaining its contrution and significance before you reach the actual book, but you need to jostle around people. See the actual book is much the same. They only display 4 pages from Kells as well as 2 from each the Books of Armagh and Dimma(?). They're in a table/display with a crowd so you need to wait/push there too. The pages are awesome... I do not have the patience for that type of detailed work though. Also cool was the long room upstairs. Apparently all students there can access the library, but as the books are all catalogued by size, they're a bit hard to find;-)

Anyway, I shopped at that gift shop too, caught the rest of the tour back to St. Pat's and met Steph and Laura at the Hostel. We lazed for a while before going out to dinner, then coming back to pack... so I should go. Ta ta!

Ireland!

2005-08-08T03:21:00.000-07:00

Failte!
We've been in Ireland for several days now. We finished our Cornwall tour (very cool), got our extra luggage from Victoria Station, and hopped on the Gatwick Express to the airport. When we arrived we checked-in and went to check our 'extra' luggage at the left luggage counter... but they were full. Aargh! They really could have a sign saying that. The guy was totally unhelpful. I had to ask if there was another counter? How far? etc. Apparently he was not capable of forming sentences without prompting. Stupid people really are everywhere. Anyway, we managed to check the big suitcase onto the flight, but it cost us. RyanAir is really cheap and only allows 15kg of luggage. I think they're like the car companies are really just make their money off the extra you have to pay afterwards;-) Anyway, the flight was fine and we caught a taxi to the hostel. We were in a 4-bed and managed to wake up the other girl when we arrived, but we managed to shuffle about in the dark and crash... it wasn't even really that late, about 11, but it turned out she was going on the other Shamrocker tour leaving the next morning so had crashed early.

We got up the next morning and went down to checkin for the tour. The girl doing check-in was our tour guide. Her name was Laura... and appropriately enough was fond of alt music and piercings:-) We had a great tour. We went all over Ireland and though we didn't really have enough time to see things very thoroughly, we knew that would happen anyway and now know where we need to come back to.

Last night we arrived back in Dublin and taxied with all our multiple bags to our new hostel. It's very nice. We finally have an ensuite again so we can do laundry! I never thought clean socks would be such a priority, but I even bought a pair of Guinness ones yesterday so I'd have a pair to wear, so I need to get scrubbing soon:-) We all have some new clothes that we've been almost saving for now, but it will make packing a bit more difficult. My third, 'extra' bag was in use a long time ago, but Laura says she'll have lots of extra room in her suitcase if she just carries on her sleeping bag, so I may have to rent that out;-) Last night I went out with some people from the tour. The Arlington Hotel near the river has free Irish music and dancing every night, so we all went down to see. It was fabulous! The dancers did numbers that were basically from Riverdance and the trio was amazing. It's so cool to see musicians just change instruments all the time. I swear they all played at least 3 each. They even played the drinking song that our tour guide had taught us all, so we could even join in the sing along. We were even all warmed up from the Karaoke we did on the bus back into Dublin:-) They have the shows every night, so I'll probably drag Steph and Laur there later this week. They were really tired so they stayed in and slept.

I have to admit, there's not a whole lot that I REALLY want to do in Dublin. Just see Trinity College and the Book of Kells, so it's really nice to not feel like I need to be rushing around doing things. That's not very Irish anyway from what I've seen. People here are very laid back... like at home... but they drink more;-) Anyway, I need to go plan I suppose, so I'll sign off. This may be my last post from 'across the pond', depending on timing, etc. so I guess I should say 'thanks for reading'. I'm planning to post more about the stuff I've skipped, but I may just need to overcome the jetlag first:-) See you all soon!

Tour number 2

2005-08-03T16:03:00.000-07:00

Hiya,
We left London a few days ago and are on our Haggis tour of Cornwall. Tonight we're in Bath.
Our last couple of days in London were fairly productive. We went/saw Harrod's, Hard Rock Cafe (closed due to fire), London Eye, Big Ben, St. Paul's, Camden Market, and other things. I also spent and afternoon (and too much money) at the Globe. Great!

The new tour is great. It's a lot like a fast forward family road trip. Drive for an hour, see a site. Drive another hour; different site. We've seen tons for just a few days. Today we left Newquay and went to Tintagel to see the ruins. Our tour guide Cai and some of our tourmates reenacted King Arthur's legend on top of a cliff. It was great!!! We couldn't stop laughing and it made for some great pictures. Then we went to a Cider factory and drove up and down Cheddar Gorge. We arrived about 7 in Bath and went for dinner. We have tomorrow morning to look around town, so I'm planning to go to the Jane Austen Centre:-) I'm sure I'll get great stuff for teaching Pride and Prejudice next year;-)

Off to Dublin tomorrow night too, so I'll post from there... I think:-) TTFN

From London!

2005-07-29T06:21:00.000-07:00

We arrived back in London last night. Our last three days of the tour were really good. Our full day in Lauterbrunnen, we all got up and went to breakfast. Then Laura and Steph went back to bed:-) Hey, the itinerary did say "Lazy Lauterbrunnen";-) I went over to the campground reception and bought postcards. I even wrote and mailed then that morning, so some of you should get them soon. Then I posted a blog:-) Later, Laura and I walked into town to see what we could see: mostly closed shops. It's a pretty sleepy place here and most shops close in the afternoon. We got caught in a rain shower in town, so we walked quickly back... without lunch. While it poured outside, I made my 'add hot water' food for lunch and we ate. Not extravagant, but filling. Dinner that night was fondue; chicken stroganoff and rosti; and ice cream.

We spent the evening repacking and crashed about 10 or so. The next day we were off again quite early for the long drive to Paris. We arrived in Paris fairly late, but the campsite had been booked so they 'farmed us out' to a hotel closer to town. No complaints here. We knew that a long time ago, but didn't realize what a good thing it was until we'd been in other campgrounds:-) The drive to Calais was uneventful, as was the ferry crossing this time... good thing. Another 3 hours on a ferry was not something I wanted to happen. We arrived at the Royal National in London about 5.30pm. We unloaded all our stuff, then I went to inquire if anyone had turned in my hat. No luck. Oh well. It's not so sunny in the UK;-) We said our goodbyes and took a taxi to our new hotel. It's quite near Victoria station, only a few blocks walk, but the lift doesn't go directly to our room... we take it one floor up then still have a flight of stairs, but after the Contiki tour we're pretty used to no lift anyway. The room is very small, but has a double and a twin bed, cupboards, a TV, a fan, and an ensuite with a (important to Laura) bathtub. We were all very tired after the other tour, so we didn't really plan to do anything last night. In fact, it seemed that Steph was coming down with the cold/flu that was going around on tour, so she pretty much collapsed into bed and we let her sleep. She woke up later to shower, but pretty much went straight back to bed. I took the ensuite opportunity to wash some much needed laundry and my hair. It feels good to be clean:-) Laura and I decided before bed that we wouldn't try to wake up for breakfast here. It goes until 9.30 but we figured that with Steph sick, the last thing we needed to do was not get enough sleep and catch it too.

This morning we all pretty much slept in. I woke up at 8, but went back to sleep. I really missed being able to do that and Steph needed the sleep anyway. We all got up about 11 and left the hotel about 1pm. Not an extrememly productive day for us so far, but Steph still isn't feeling great. We walked to Vauxhall Bridge Road to see where we need to catch our next tour, then up to Victoria Station. We ate in the food court up top. Nothing spectacular: KFC for Laura and I and a McD's milkshake for Steph (cold protein+carbs :-) ). The station is odd. It's all undercover, but all the shops have anti-bird spikes on top. Then we went downstairs to check out the left luggage service... and discovered that there are indeed pigeons in the station. Guess the spikes aren't so odd after all. The size limit on the next leg of our trip is 15kg, so we will need to check some of our stuff. It'll be about 23BPs to store a bag for the duration of our first tour, but we don't really have much option. We'll check it at Victoria station, then pick it up on our way to Gatwick, where we will check it again to pick up on the way home. It won't be cheap, but we haven't been willing to never shop:-) The Internet cafe is across the street from the Station, so we've popped over here to get in touch. When we're done, we may take a Big Bus Tour of the city, or if Steph is spent we may head back to the hotel, at least for a bit, and maybe do some bigger washing at the nearby laundrette. Perhaps not an exciting day in London for some, but when you've been going what feels like a mile a minute for most of two weeks, doing not much really feels good, especially as we're launching into two more tours shortly. Anyway, that's about it for now. It is nice to read your comments, so feel free to add some on the blog. They don't need to really relate to anything in the post either:-) I have also been checking my email when I log on, so feel free to send me a note. It would be nice to find something other than spam in my inbox;-)

Day 10

2005-07-25T02:24:00.000-07:00

Guten morgen, we're here in Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland today. We arrvived last night about 7.30pm and had burgers and fries for dinner. Reallz authentic cuisine:) This morning we got to sleep in as breakfast wasn't until 8.00. Definitely not what I would call a sleep in at home, but it is on this trip. After a much more traditional breakfast... well, at least it included Muesli, I don't know how traditional pancakes with 'maple' syrup and bread with peanut butter are... Steph and Laura went back to bed and I went to wander the campsite. It's really beautiful here. While our room is pretty basic: bunkbeds, lockers, desk, and sink, the view out the window is stunning. We can sit at the desk and look at the cold, quickrunning river that runs between our chalet and the rest of the campground, the cute little cabins in the rest of the campground, and the mountain and its waterfall in the background. Supposedly they turn off the waterfall at about 10.00 each night to divert the water to a hydro dam, but it certainly didn't stop suddenlz at 10.00 last night, and we didn't stay up to watch it end. The 'optional' trip for todaz was to take a cog train up to Jungfraujoch, basicallz a 4Km mountin, but it was expensive (125SF), it's slightly overcast so you probably can't see much, and we have mountains and snow at home. The weather here is great, much better than in Italy. It was 30+ there, but here I actually used mz fleece sleeping bag, wore my jacket, and dug out my jeans. I think I will definitely have to come back to Switzerland.

Yesterday we were in Florence. It's a very beautiful city. While we didn't get into the Uffizi museum or get to see the real statue of 'David', we did see the outside of the museum and a couple replicas of the statue. When we arrived in town yesterday afternoon, we walked from the bus up to Piazza Santa Croce and looked at the church. It's really neat. After being in Rom where everything is made out of white (or dark polluted) Travertine, it was a real shock to see the white, pink, and green exterior on the churches here. Then we had some free time so a group of us wandered through the market stalls, went to the 'piglet' market... and had more gelati. I think I will have to visit Mario's when I get back home, as the gelati there was so good that I don't think ice cream will quite cut it anymore:) Then we all met in Piazza della Signoria and went on a walking tour of the city sights. Simona, our guide looked familiar. I think she was maybe on the David Rocco cooking show once as that's based in Florence too. She told us about the town hall first. It has a replica of the David statue in front as thez moved the original into the museum. The statue was first put there after the Florentines got rid of the Medicis to represent their 'liberation', then when one of them came back into power he erected a statue right next to it to represent how they had returned to power. We also saw the statues outside the Uffizi, so I have some pictures of famous dead Italians:) We saw the bridge of Sighs too, before heading to see the Baptistry and the the big church beside it. More coloured marble.

The day before in Rome, we also went on a walking tour around the Colosseum and through the Forum. I got way too many pictures, but I figure I can use them when I teach 'Julius Caesar':)

Tomorrow, we are off again. This time to Paris. Finally a country where I'll be able to understand people again:) I may go walk to see Strangbach falls as they're not far away, so I'll have even more pictures to show you all when I return. Love to all. Ciao.

Day 7?

2005-07-22T07:08:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I cannot remember how many days we have been on tour, or find the apostrophe key. I am writing from Rome. It is our second day here. Yesterday, we arrived in the evening, saw the Trevi Fountain (yes, we all tossed coins, but only 1 each), the Pantheon, and Piazza Novona. We ate dinner near there and had great gelati. I will miss that when we leave Italy. Anyway, our cabins here are very small and the toilets and showers are up a long flight of stairs, but I slept well last night so I guess it did not matter. Today we came into Rome and went on a guided walking tour of the Colosseum (outside only) and the Forum for 90 minutes. It was really cool. I bought a book outside the Colosseum that shows what is there now and overlays what used to be there, so you can see the difference. Then we took a bus to the Vatican. We ate pizza for lunch (priced by the 100g), got more $ from the Bancomat, and went to the Vatican Museum to see the Sistine Chapel. It is all very cool, but my batteries in my camera died partway through, so I had to buy AAs and now I am trying to save power because I know they will not last long. My good batteries are in my backpack, but I was trying to travel light today and forgot to move them into my fanny pack. Oh well. Anyway, then as we were walking to the Metro to come to the Internet Café we found a streetside sale and all bought some really cheap clothes. Fun!

Tomorrow we head off back up to Florence for one night before we venture into Switzerland. We will be "camping" there too, but it is supposed to be a really nice place to stay. Best on the circuit as our bus drivers says.

Recap.... if this is redundant it is because I cannot remember what I have already posted:)
Our stay in Munich was short, only about 2 hours in town to look around, but we went to a beerhall that night which was cool. Laura actually ate a pork knuckle! I have pictures to prove it. After, Steph and Laura went out with the rest of the group and I went back to the hostel to crash. On the way though, our driver and I saw some fireworks which were really cool... but I think I have already told you that. Oh well.

Vienna was totally awesome, but WAY too hot. Though still cooler than Italy. We even climbed the 300 stairs to the top of the South tower of the bit church (name escaping me now). The views were okay, but almost all the tower is being restored so we saw lots of scaffolding. We also shopped a bit and our group drove around the ring road so we could see the most famous sights. We wanted to go to the art museum but it was closed that day, so we hung out in the shade next to it and wrote postcards. People will get them eventually:)

Venice was also very cool... but hot. The first night, we arrived at the campsite in the evening and settled in to camp. For some reason, everyone was exhausted and the heat did not help, especially after the a\c in the bus. The next morning we took a boat into Venice itself. First we toured the Murano glass blowing factory\store, then we went to a lace making demonstration. That is a craft I will definitely never do. Way too detailed even for me:) Then, we wandered all around and shopped. We went to the Rialto markets. I bought a mask and something else, but I cannot remember what. We had panini for lunch, then when and saw the Basilica. Everything in there is gold. It is really opulent. Next we all went on a gondola ride. It was okay, but we did not see anything really great from the boat. Our gondolier, however, did let one of our friends from tour try steering the boat, so that made it more fun. Then we took the boat back to the campsite and had, guess what... spaghetti for dinner! Haha! It had to happen, right? Anyway, the next morning we left for Rome, and here we are.

That is it for now. We need to go meet Steph so we can catch the Metro and train back to catch our bus back to the campsite... obviously we are not staying very close to town:) Anyway, love to all. I will type more later when I finally return to an English keyboard:)

Day 5

2005-07-17T12:17:00.000-07:00

We#re in Vienna now. Just had schnitzel for dinner. Yum. Zesterdaz we went to a beerhall for dinner. Laura ate a pork knuckle! I have the picture to prove it. Then everzone but me went to go pubbing. One the way back to the olzmpic hostel we saw fireworks. People were lining the streets to watch. I got some great pics with the firework setting on mz camera. If anzone knows what the fireworks were for, email me.
This morning we headed off from Munich. We stopped this afternoon at Mauthausen concentration camp. It was extremely depressing, but I'm glad I actually got to see one. Tomorrow we have the day in Vienna, so Iäm sure I will see lots of stuff. Iäve alreadz seen the house where Mozart composed one of his songs. Got to go know as folks are waiting for me to finish. TTFN.

Day 4 again

2005-07-15T11:24:00.000-07:00

Will try again. My time ran out and I lost my post. No grammar allowed anymore;-) good flight, got to hotel okay, problem with room, but fixed. 6am start next day... think I left my hat there:-( will find out later. Ferry to Calais twice as long due to fog, so only saw teeny bit of Dover cliffs. Drove to Belgium, then Netherlands. Got picture of Dutch McDonald's;-) Hotel first, then find dinner in Amsterdam, then canal cruise. Great views and pictures. Red light district walking tour. Fairly boring... like Victoria's Secret show at night:-) Then hotel for not enough sleep. Good breakfast today. Into town. Walked to Rijksmuseum. Got in free for some reason... museum having an anniversary? Neat stuff, but smaller than I expected. Tram to Anne Frank's House. Really long line but got pictures. Ate waffles. Yummy! Dashed back to bus, which was late:-( On the road into Germany. Stopped at truck stop. You get very clean automatic washrooms for 0.50:-) Stuck in a "shtall" for 45 minutes on the autobahn, but finally at St. Goar for dinnner. Some pics of castles and grape vines on the way. Dinner okay. Sauerbraten with spaetzle and Black forest cake. Wilkommen to Deutschland! :-) Will be leaving for hotel in 25 minutes. Hope to get more sleep tonight. Tomorrow we will see beer steins and head into Munich for 1 night, then on to Vienna. That's it for now. Stay tuned. Auf wiedershein.

Take-off -9 hours

2005-07-12T13:49:00.000-07:00

Howdy All,
Welcome to my blog! Well I was up far too late last night trying to
finish packing. Hearing the paper arrive, the birds singing, and dawn
creeping through the window is never really a good sign. Anyway, I did
get some sleep and I've finished packing my suitcase/backpack. It
doesn't have any extra room left which is what I was really hoping for,
but it does contain a well squished sleeping bag, my runners, and a
bunch of stuff I won't be bringing home like toilet paper and
Kleenex:-) Hopefully that will all compensate for the stuff I'll be
buying. Oh yeah, and I've packed an extra bag too, so all should be
good. I don't care if I have to pay extra to bring stuff home, I just
don't want to start with extra.
Mom went out and got me money... awww... but I paid her back:-) Now I
just need to finish packing my 'carryon' which means figuring out my
'listening devices' and my paperwork. It may take awhile though, so
I'll sign off now. Who knows, if I actually get ready with time to
spare I may post again:-)
Cheerio!

When in doubt, write about food:-)

2004-11-13T02:17:00.000-08:00

Well, after the NaNoWriMo party today (yes people came), I actually felt like writing when I got home. Unfortunately I became distracted for several hours by my computer games. [Check out "Wik and the Fables of Souls" from RealArcade... lots of fun. Does anyone else think he looks like Gollum?] Of course, as I went to shut down the computer and go to bed, I got the urge to type at least something and surpassed my expectations. I wanted to get to 5000, but didn't think I'd be able to stay awake that long. But I did. So here it is. The saga of Siobhan's Saturday breakfast. Maybe not fascinating reading for everyone, but I'm a foodie. And yes, that is how I make my French Toast. Though I've never tried the coffee that way. Something to do next Saturday:-)

Today's episode:

No point worrying about things while you can't do anything to fix them. So I determined to enjoy myself. I walked to the kitchen and started rummaging through the remains of my latest shopping trip a couple weeks ago. I had obviously been devasted by my breakup with 'Dick' as it wasn't often that I neglected my pantry. Grocery shopping was one of my guilty pleasures and skipping it was a big deal for me. I'd mostly been working late at the branch office though, avoiding 'him' and eating out, so I hadn't noticed until now the sorry state of my food supply. I had some coffee beans left, some stale bread, a couple eggs, and an entire litre of maple syrup.

While shopping at Costco can have its advantages, I also find myself buying insane quantities of items I hardly use like the four bottles of Windex, case of S.O.S. Pads, two bottles of a thousand daily vitamins each, and one litre of maple syrup that were stashed as space allowed throughout the apartment. Well, I wasn't going to waste my Saturday cleaning windows or pots, but I could certainly make a dent in the syrup supply. I took out the eggs and what remained of the milk from the fridge. Grabbing my favourite stainless bowl, the one with just the right depth for mixing and my magiwhisk I set myself up on the island. I tried one-handing the first egg, but after fishing half the shell from the bowl, decided that my daredevil leanings would have to be exorcised only in the meal's calorie count. I carefully cracked open the other egg and started to whisk furiously.

There's something very satisfying about seeing those yellow orbs whisk into a frothy sea. Some people workout, I cook. I get to bang around my food, then get to eat it. Not like my friend Leanna who spends every day at the gym, and convinces herself after that water and a soy bar is enough to satisfy her rumbling stomach. Whatever. Give me a good fry-up over treadmills and squats any day. Of course, it's obvious what my choice is, but I'd look stupid if I were rail thin anyway. Besides, she never has any problem eating my food when she visits either.

I sliced the stale parisienne loaf into thickish slices and imagined what Leanna would say. “All those carbs, Siobhan. Those aren't good for you. And don't you dare eat that bread with eggs. You know you can't mix carbs and proteins. It'll make you fat.” Yeah well, already there, dearie, and loving it. Besides, doesn't everyone know that food consumed on a Saturday before Noon is calorie free? That reminded me, if there was ever a time to be decadent, this was it. I strode over to my spice cupboard and located the cinnamon-sugar and the vanilla. (Despite my reservations about buying a litre of vanilla – how could I possibly use it all? -- there wasn't much left. Mental note, buy another litre next Costco run.) I sprinkled, no dumped, a liberal amount of cinnamon sugar into the eggs and whisked again. Then I stirred in the last couple glugs of the milk and a splosh of vanilla. Already the kitchen was smelling good. I put the bread slices in a baking pan, poured over the egg, turned the bread, and left it to sit.

My favourite frying pan was sitting in the sink. Ugh. Obviously I hadn't been in a mood to clean the last time I used it, so some elbow grease was in order. Well, maybe more like grease up to the elbow. I gave the pan a generous squirt of my apple-scented dishsoap (hey, horrible chores may as well smell nice), and filled it with hot water. I reached for the S.O.S. Pad that lived in the mouth of my kitchen frog. Rusty. Time for a new one, so I padded my way to the supply closet in the hall. I grabbed another pad--only 475 left to use—and returned to the sink.

After scrubbing the pan clean, I set it on the stove to dry/heat. Once it was dry and suitably hot, I added far too much butter then watched it melt and bubble. Once it liquified, I turned down the heat and carefully added the eggy, squidgy bread. While it fried slowly, I started on the coffee. I added the beans to the grinder and made enough noise for thirty seconds to wake the apartment block. The resulting smell of rich, slightly bitter, overroasted coffee started to wake me up. I filled the coffee maker with filtered water and set it to brew.

The french toast would need another couple of minutes before it needed flipped, so I decided to be good and get some excercise before consuming the million calories on the menu. I padded back out to the hall, tried to remember which way was East, and set about doing my Sun Salutations. While I really wasn't keen on 'working out', yoga was my one physical pursuit of choice. I loved the way that just holding a position and breathing could make me feel awake and alert, not to mention sexy. There's something very empowering about being able to flex in many different directions. For the last couple of weeks I hadn't wanted to feel very alert (or sexy), so I'd avoided my daily regime, but my body was telling me that had been a really bad idea. I creaked and cracked as I moved first from Mountain to forward bend, and again into lunge. My hamstrings screamed as I tried to stretch them out in Downward Dog. My breathing became more strained. But after a couple complete Salutations, everything loosened and started to flow. It even felt so good that I did twice as many as usual. Eight total. Not a lot. Certainly not the 108 that some yogis practise each morning, but enough for me.

I could smell the cinnamon and coffee wafting from the kitchen as I relaxed into Child's Pose and decided the toast needed a flip. I walked back to the stove, with a lighter step now, and carefully turned each slice. Next, I grabbed my favourite 'café au lait' bowl from the drying rack and started to walk to the fridge. Right, I already finished the milk. No 'au lait' today then. Okay, I can improvise. I dug my Haagen-Daas French Vanilla from the freezer and dropped a generous clomp into the mug. As I poured the hot coffee over the ice cream it melted into a beige lake of goodness with a ring of foam. Sip. Yum!

I took another sip and another waiting for that morning coffee buzz to kick in... then remembered that I only drink decaf. The allergy gods had cursed me again. At least I could still eat French Toast. I moved back to the pan and lifted a slice to check its progress. Deep, golden brown. Perfect. To the plate! I slid the slices onto my appetite-suppressing blue plate, wrenched open the new maple syrup jug, and drowned the toast in the beautiful liquid gold. I even added a slosh to my coffee, just for good measure. It is perishable after all. No time to use it like the present. I grabbed my plate and my 'café érable à Haagen-Daas' and made my way to the living room.

My living room was well used. It was TV room, office, and general storage facility. While my apartment lacked built in storage space, I compensated by lining every wall of the living room with full-height IKEA armoires. I had considered shelves, but decided that doors were important. While I wanted to be able to store all my possessions, I didn't want to have to look at them all the time. Even my computer and TV could be hidden if I wanted.

This morning the TV was required viewing, but the piles of bills on the computer desk did not need an audience. I pushed the doors shut with my elbow as I walked past. I settled myself into the well-worn spot in the corner of the chesterfield, balanced my plate on my crossed legs and set my bowl of coffee on its table. Next I switched on the TV. A man with a fake-sounding British accent yelled into the quiet of my home: “see? It's jus tha easy, luv. All y'ave ta doo is make two easy payments of”-- click. When did people decide that infomercials were appropriate Saturday viewing? When I was growing up, the only shows on Saturday mornings were cartoons. What ever happened to those? Right, too violent. Because every kid in America is going to perch a large boulder on a cliff in the futile hopes of crushing a fast little desert bird and end up crushing themselves. Nope, stop that. It's Saturday, no thinking allowed. Between bites of syrupy, eggy, cinnamony toast, I managed to turn the TV back on and switch it to the cartoon network. Ah, best invention ever. A little bit of Saturday solace any time, any day. I had switched just in time for the start of “Jacob Two-Two”. Yippee! My favourite Canadian cartoon. My favourite Canadian cartoon. Ooh, déjà vu. I'm such a geek. I watched Jacob's attempt to save the little old lady from across the street from the greedy, evil plans of this week's villain and ate my French Toast between gulps of coffee. For a Saturday, this was perfect.

The show ended and I finished my last bite of breakfast. I checked the clock. Eleven fifty-seven. Finished just in time. Homemade breakfast: five dollars. Finishing the meal during the 'no calorie' window: priceless. Nothing could ruin my day now. Well, of course something 'could', but I resolved that nothing 'would'. Regardless what had happened at work, I resolved to live for me that Saturday. I resolved that whatever I wanted to do, I would do with zeal and gusto. So, I leapt from the chesterfield, sashayed my dishes back to the kitchen, and poured myself another bowl of coffee... this time with two scoops of frozen vanilla.

Slow Day

2004-11-11T18:42:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been feeling horrible all day and so far have done nothing but make and eat soup and tweak the blog a bit. The comments have been updated, so now anyone can comment on the story, and I've added links to my NaNo buddies on my Blogroll. I don't feel inspired to write (or mark) right now, but maybe some tea will do the trick.

2004-11-11T17:29:00.000-08:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Slow progress, but at least I'm still writing

2004-11-11T01:12:00.000-08:00

Well, it was Parent/Teacher interview night today, so I was working until 7pm and even though I often work until then, talking for that length of time really wears me out. I came home and did try to write, but had to stop (good TV break) and then just couldn't get motivated to start again. I bet I'm not alone in this either. According to my report card I'm now 7% finished and need to type 2332 words per remaining day to hit 50,000 by Nov. 30. I don't really think that'll happen -- report cards are due before then you know which always screws up my 'real life' schedule. I should, however, finish March 29, 2005. Yippee! Anyway, here's today's efforts.

The next morning was Saturday. Ah, blissful Saturday. No alarm clock. No rush hour traffic. No mail. No work. No, even better: no need to even think about work until Monday... when I would have to find a new job. Great. What fun! All I would need to do is find someone willing to hire a 30-year old woman with too many degrees to be useful and a propensity for falling for the boss. Face it, Siobhan, falling for the boss is one thing, but acting on it is quite another. Ugh. Why do I always do this? Why do I always fall for guys I work for? Why not a guy I just work with once in a while? Or a guy I don't work with at all?

No point worrying about things while you can't do anything to fix them. So I determined to enjoy myself.

Nobody loves me:-(

2004-11-09T09:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I never thought I'd want a blog, let alone care if anyone read it, but now I'm so used to reading comments in my forum that I keep looking for comments here... but there aren't any:-( I'm not looking for any particular comment, though it would actually be nice to know what people think of my story, but sometimes I get addicted to mail of any kind. The fact that people send me information is often thrilling, even if the information isn't terribly useful. I guess that's the price I pay for being an info junkie... I can find use knowing even the dumbest stuff.... did you know that... wait I can't think of anything. Guess it'll have to wait for another post. ;-)

Hot bath, cold tea

2004-11-09T01:42:00.000-08:00

As I reentered the bathroom, the phone rang. Damn! I had forgotten to turn of the speaker. I wouldn't be able to get there before the beep to silence it, and I certainly was in no mood to answer. I gave the door a good slam, dropped my robe to the floor and stepped to the tub but left the water running to drown out any message interference.

Turning to step into the steaming water, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I generally tried to avoid this, but I'd been careless. I was surprised, in fact, by how different I looked since the last time I'd caught a glimpse of my figure. I had never been slim. I'd been too muscular to be slim. But I'd never really looked 'athletic' either. Too rubenesque really. Normally this was not something I admired, but curves were suddenly back in vogue and I had them in droves. My recent adventures in yoga were apparently paying off too. I stepped my other foot into the 'hotter than medically recommended' water and caught sight of what my mother would call my 'derriere'. The amazing thing was that I had one. Well, at least one worth noticing. Guess all those horrid squats were paying off. I sank my recently lifted 'derriere' into the billowing bubbles and placed my tea and chocolate within easy reach.

The water washed over me, the warm citrus and mint bubbles tickling my chin. Too much water to be good for anything, but the environment be damned. I needed a good soak and that can't happen in 3 inches of water. I always found baths therapeutic. Like baptism for dummies. Soak a bit and emerge a new woman. The water cleansing me of all... but my worries. How could I possibly go back to work? Where could I find another job? How could I avoid my mother's inevitable prying questions? Why on earth did I ever fall for Richard? How could I have done that to his wife? He never claimed he was single. I just chose to ignore the picture on the bookshelf. But how could he have done that to her? Surely she didn't deserve such cruelty. Even more puzzling: what possessed her to take him back?

While I remembered Richard once seeming charming, handsome, even sexy, all I could see now was that stupid grin of his. When I first met him I thought the grin was odd, then I found it endearing as we shared secret jokes at work. Now it was just creepy. Like the Grinch when he lies to Cindy Lou, only Richard uses Whitestrips. I bet he practises that grin and imagines the little sparkle they use in cheesy toothpaste ads. Ugh. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.

I submerged myself under the bubble layers to wash away my thoughts and resurfaced soapy-wet, but refreshed. I lay back against my fuzzy bath pillow and closed my eyes. I needed to refocus, so I'd try practising my yogic breathing. Slowly I deepened my breath, expanding my belly with each inhalation, listening only to the sound it made in my throat. I visualized the stress leaving my body with each exhalation, parting the sea of bubbles and breaking free. After a few minutes of internal warmth gradually spreading through my body, I felt the release I was longing. A wave of relaxation washed through me and all my muscles finally gave into the impulse to do nothing. I started to sink deeper into the water and briefly considered pressing my feet into the end of the tub to delay my descent, but wanted to relish the absolute freedom of floating instead. Soon enough, I stopped sinking and began to float, washed by the ripples caused by my own breath. I closed my eyes for a moment felt completely at peace, but I knew I couldn't stay in the tub forever. I wriggled my fingers and toes, trying to gain some momentum for movement, but instead became distracted by the texture of my wrinkled digits. Trying once again to reenter reality, I gently pushed my feet against the end of the tub and raised my head out of the water. The air on my head felt cool, but not cold. I took stock of the situation. The bathwater was only lukewarm, my tea had stopped steaming, and my chocolate sat unopened on the side of the tub. Mission accomplished: stress and calories both at zero. So I slowly pulled myself from the dying bubbles and decided to reward my self-control by eating the chocolate anyway. Rule number four: once out of the cupboard, chocolate may not be returned.

Nano Nano so far

2004-11-07T13:54:00.000-08:00

Siobhan's Solace

I live in an empty place. Though my abode is full of objects – bric-a-brac, kitsch, trinkets – it just doesn't feel complete anymore. Most of my 'objets d'art' as I refer to them, I have collected in only the last few years. I never planned to start collecting anything, it just happened.

One day as I was walking to the deli at lunch, I decided to walk through the market – you know, one of those farmers' and flea things with little kiosks that pop up in the oddest of locales. Usually I try to avoid the market. With only 40 minutes for lunch, heading towards 4 blocks of elbow-your-way-through traffic never seemed like such a good idea, but I guess time didn't really matter that day. As I wandered down the thoroughfare, I noticed it. Its golden wings glinted in the sunlight that filtered through the holes in the kiosk's barely tented roof. I couldn't tell what it was at first, but as I drew closer... no, as it drew me closer, for I really didn't have any say or so it felt... I noticed the fragilely gilt wings, the saucy pose, and the puckish grin all there for my benefit. All thoughts of hunger dissipated and I fumbled for my wallet.

How I found 40 dollars in my purse I have no idea. I never have that much cash with me. I'm strictly a plastic purchaser. Need to collect all those points. It would wasteful not to. Regardless, I had the cash, paid quickly and waited with anticipation as the old woman behind the table wrapped her up in tissue paper, then in newspaper, to place her in nothing more than a generic pink plastic bag. While she had been wrapping my purchase, all I could think about was where I could put her. She really didn't fit the decor in my flat. Why was I buying her anyway? I had no idea. I even began to tell the lady that I'd changed my mind. But just as I was about to speak, the tissue ripped slightly and that teeny upturned mouth stopped me in my tracks. So I resolved to take her home, but still had no clue what I would do with a statue of a golden fairy.

Fairies don't exactly fit into my art collection. Somehow I can't really picture Matisse, Dali, and _________ willingly displayed next to 'Oberon the Fairy King'. Actually, the statue couldn't have been Oberon; it was too effete, too androgynous. But it also looked too good-natured to be Puck. Maybe the statue was the embodiment of a changeling: innocent and childlike, but with hint of fairy mischief. Like the good kid who secretly relishes comic books, or the students in school who actually understand the ‘teacher jokes’ but just smile knowingly so the teacher can tell, but the other kids can't. Regardless, it still wouldn't fit in between my art prints and my IKEA furniture. It definitely wasn't a Nordic fairy. No clean lines here. And it would be a bugger to dust.

I hate dust! Life can really suck when you're allergic to the one ingredient in every room on earth. The reason I had IKEA furniture in the first place it that it's all flat, no nooks and crannies for dust to make bunnies. Easy to fit up that stupid staircase in flat boxes, and easy enough to clean. All that hard work for nothing. Amazing how one dust magnet can ruin your day. Except it didn't ruin my day. What ruined my day was that pink bag. It reminded me of the pink folder waiting for me on my desk, which reminded me of work, which reminded me of lunch, and time… and being late. So instead of deciding where to house my new golden fairy, I had to rush my way through the crowd to my office. The office where I was being awaited by my one o'clock appointment: my boss. The boss who had every reason to want me out of the firm. The boss who saw me run down the hall to his office, precious pink shopping bag clutched to my chest. Great! Late for performance review because I was shopping! Some days fairies can wreak havoc with your day.

I slinked into Richard’s office. I tried to hide the bag behind my back, but that cheap plastic kept wrinkling the way chip bags do when you least want to be caught eating. It was pointless anyway. He’d seen me run with it down the hall. What to do? Confess that I’d gone insane and blown my lunch hour, not to mention forty bucks, on a fairy statue? Give it to him as a gift of appreciation for all the ‘magic’ he works at the office? Claim my purse broke this morning and the bag was all I could find to use instead?

Just as I was scrounging up the courage to come clean – better to face his recriminations now than my own guilt later, especially given he can tell when I lie – he stopped me in my tracks.

“I'm--” we both stammered as I reached the door. We paused, awkwardly waiting to see who would have the courage to begin again.

“I’m glad you haven’t been waiting for me too –“

“I’m really sorry, I –“

“Nothing to be sorry for. I was worried that you had been waiting for me. I know you hate waiting, but I guess Ilene told you I got held up in the Board Meeting this morning.” I nodded my head in agreement, not knowing how to respond. “Some of the shareholders aren’t happy with the way the merger talks are going. Seem to think they know more about business than anyone else. They keep acting like they’ve employed incompetents, so I don’t know why they’re surprised they don’t like how we’re handling things. Some days I really hate being the 'boss'.”

“Which leads me to why I’ve asked to see you. I know this is supposed to be your annual performance review, but there’s no point in talking about that.” Richard smiled and I felt my heart race. Whether it was because I was about to lose my job or I suddenly remembered why I'd fallen in love with him I couldn't be sure. Regardless I certainly couldn't afford to lose this job.

“No point?” I squeaked. “I’ve improved my commissions twelve percent in the last six months alone, and you’re going to fire me? I can’t believe this.”

“Well, that’s good,” Richard said with a mischievous grin. Why did he always have to smile?

“Firing me is good? Tell that to the Human Rights Commission.” I shot back. Richard looked stunned for a moment. I never used to miss his jokes.

“Uh... no,” he stuttered, “not good that you’re fired. Good that you can’t believe it. You’re not fired. God, Siobhan, I’d have to be an idiot to fire you. I know I've done some stupid things to you, but I'm not that dumb.”

“Oh,” I said, despite the fact all I could think about was the last time I’d heard that. That’ s what he'd said when he dumped me too. I guess even idiots are allowed their moments of brilliance.

“Firing is out of the question. I wanted to discuss the possibility of a sort of promotion.”

Okay, so this was going to be a very odd meeting. I already knew that. We hadn't spoken in two weeks. While we needed to work together closely, we'd been communicating exclusively via email since the company masquerade. Speech was just too difficult. Richard had tried setting up conference calls, but I felt my voice left me naked, and always found a way to miss them. My voice betrayed too much. I couldn't afford to give anything away. Certainly not to him. I could be much more guarded in my writing. So we emailed, and memoed, and left notes on each other's office doors. But this meeting had been scheduled for weeks, and even I knew that he couldn't postpone my review. But why bring up the issue of promotion. I was sure Richard would want me out of the office. After everything I'd done, I certainly didn't want to work there any more, but I couldn't afford to quit. If he promoted me, we'd have to work together even more. So he must have an alterior motive, but what? I was the only one of the floor who hadn’t applied for the open position last week. Did he want to persuade me to apply? Did it make him look bad if I was the lone holdout? What’s “sort of promotion” anyway?

“A ‘sort of promotion’? What does that mean exactly?”

“Well, ________ and I...”

My eyes drifted to the picture of Richard's wife on the bookcase. It had never been on his desk. He always said that he didn't like to be “stared at” while he was working, so the picture had always lived on the shelves behind his desk. Where her stare could bore holes into the back of his head. Maybe that's what had 'impaired' his judgment so much. Now, she was staring directly at me, just like the night of the masquerade. I blinked and looked at Richard who had stopped talking.

“I'm sorry. I missed that. I must be microsleeping,” I grinned sheepishly.

“I was just saying that we're going on an extended honeymoon of sorts and that I can’t leave the office without someone in charge at this point in the merger. So, Simon’s agreed to take on my part in the merger talks, but I need someone to run the day to day office.”

Ahoneymoon “of sorts”... interesting way to put it. Still not very committed language, Richard. That'll get you in trouble. Besides isn't it kind of soon for a second honeymoon. I mean you just recanted your divorce “request” last week. Has she already forgiven you for our dalliance? I don't think so. Not yet anyway. Too quick. You still have clothes at my apartment for chrissakes.

“I see,” I said slowly, trying to suppress the anger rising in throat, “so I'm qualified to do your job, but only the 'day to day' stuff? Let me guess, the board doesn't want a woman dealing with the merger? Or is that just your bias?” I rose from my chair and strode to the door. “Well, you can take the promotion and 'sort of' shove it.”

As I stormed from his office, I could hear the buzz of the office come to a standstill. I could feel everyone's stares. I could feel Richard follow me through the maze of cubicles, but I kept walking, staring straight ahead as people moved out of my way. I could feel my heart sticking in my throat and the tears rising, but I had only ten more feet to freedom. I broke into a run near the foyer and heard Richard quicken to meet my pace. I couldn't bear to wait for the lift, so I ran for stairs. I threw open the door to the stairwell and darted through. Running down the first flight of stairs, I quickly glanced back to see the door closing on Richard and quickened my pace.

I didn't stop running until I reached my car. I fumbled with the door and climbed inside. As I started the car I could see Richard just approaching the door into the parkade. I revved the engine and briefly considered waiting and running him down, but decided all I really wanted to do was go home. I turned left and as I drove to the exit gate I spotted Richard in my rearview... waving a pink bag.

I'm not entirely sure how I got home. I don't even know how long it took me. The state of my mascara told me it hadn't been a dry commute. And I felt I hadn't breathed until I'd locked the door behind me. How could I have been so stupid? Now I couldn't possibly go back to work, but I could afford even less not to. Why did life have to be so complicated?

It was always times like these that I wished I liked alcohol. Or drugs. Or even cigarettes. Instead, I beelined to the cupboard above the fridge, pulled on the lock that I never really locked, and fished out my emergency chocolate. Skor!

I never felt I had much in common with other women, but I definitely fell victim to the chocolate gene. At least I didn't indulge with wild abandon, though that may have felt good at the time. I had rules about chocolate. Chocolate was for extreme emergencies only. This certainly qualified. Chocolate could only be enjoyed during a bath. If I finished my ration I would have to want another bar enough to towel off and freeze on my way back to the kitchen for a refill. And chocolate must never be eaten alone. Time for tea and sympathy then. Or at least tea and chocolate. I put on the kettle and went to draw my bath.

In the bathroom, I ran the hot water over my fingers until I couldn't bear it, then turned on the cold. I kicked off my sandals and stood staring in the mirror. My face was a mess. Mascara drained from my eyes and my “Raspberry Reputation” had been smeared from my lips. The corresponding stain was on my right sleeve. I grabbed a make-up remover pad and was all set to scrape the remains off my face when the words of my mother filled my ears. “Be gentle with the skin around the eyes. It's very delicate. Use soft, gentle strokes.” Too bad she'd never used the same advice to raise her children. I shook my head and silenced her. I finished removing all traces of ________ from my face, slid out of my blouse, and left it in the sink to soak. I rummaged through the wicker basket on the counter to find my favourite wallowing bath bubbles and added a generous splosh to the tub. Trading the rest of my clothes for my housecoat, I went back to the kitchen to make my tea and retrieve my chocolate. Only one element remained. I cranked the stereo on my way back to the bathroom and prepared myself for a long, wrinkly soak.