So Beautiful To Me Your Mystery

When I was 15 I moved from Canada to the United States. While my accent is a strange Wisconsin-Alberta blend, my thoughts are less of a melting pot. Things that I know from Canada, I don't expect to see in the U.S and vice versa. When something forces me to blend my memories, I get confused.

Like the Stanley Cup Final. The fact it's on my TV right now is awesome. I love hockey. However, Hockey=Canada. Fine, so I process this fact and adjust. I get to watch hockey on an American broadcasting channel. As the puck flies around I notice advertisements around the rink and I see companies like Tim Hortons, Rogers, and Canadian Tire. These are companies I know, but never see anymore. This does not compute.

I often tell people that the two countries are more similar than anyone will admit. Even though this is true, it's not until you look at the small details that you see what makes each countries special and unique. Are there similarities? Are there differences? Of course, just look closer.

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I Judge Book Covers Too

I often wonder how much people pay attention to me. My office area is directly across from the conference room. Whenever they have large meetings people sit near the door, giving them a clear shot into my office. Do they see me fix my hair? Adjust my shirt? Overhear me talking to visitors? It stresses me. Or, on days when I’m falling asleep at my desk, makes me paranoid.

Regardless, 15 of our company’s best and brightest are listening to a software presentation today. It may sound dull, but I’m enjoying it. Not because the information is useful, but because the visitors giving the presentation are fascinating. From their clothing to their mannerisms, they're straight out of a mafia movie. In a crazy-Ally-McBeal-like imagination scene, I envision them breaking out machine guns if we turn them down, or maybe thugs will come in to twist our arm.

It’s terrible to judge someone without knowing them, but that’s what first impressions are about. I wonder if they realise how they appear?

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Adrian's Revenge

For years I was able to pride myself on a Perfect Driving Record^TM. I had never been pulled over or given a warning. Not even a parking ticket was on my record. Last October, after 12 years, I fixed that. Speeding through a speed trap on the way to work is never recommended. Twenty minutes later, with my first ticket in hand, I was on my way.

There’s no interesting story to go with the ticket. The cop didn’t lecture me and I didn’t argue. It was cut and dry. What was interesting was people's reaction. Most of them were surprise I didn’t cry or use my “womanly assets” to get out of the ticket. I’m not an advocate of same sex rights, but I found this offensive. I sucked it up and took the ticket like a man. The speed trap was lousy, but the ticket was deserved.

Others told me to plead no contest to reduce my points. Pleading no contest is worse than weaseling out of a ticket. If I had gone to court, I would have pleaded guilty. For the record? I paid my ticket in full the next day.

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Kids Are Trading Cards, Right?

For most people, the decision to move is a major one. It requires thought, planning, and money. It means leaving everything behind and starting a new life. There are good reasons to move. It could be for a new job, health concerns, or because a fortune cookie dared you. People move all the time. But don't fool yourself. While it doesn’t change who you are, it does change you.

Someone who shall remain nameless, let’s call him “Dad”, had the bright idea to move this weekend. What was his reasoning? Three out of four of his kids don’t live here. He didn’t see the sense of staying in Racine for one kid. No other considerations crossed his mind. Apparently you can snap your fingers and be in another city. (If only it were that simple.) It’s possible I’m jealous; his whole life would move with him. How's that possible? Hint: it’s his television.

I should be happy he considered me at all. Traditionally he hasn’t. Sorry Dad, I’m too horrified that you pitted your kids against each other.

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The Day The Car (Almost) Died

I dislike pumping gas. It’s included in my disdain for cars. See also: driving, repairing, and paying for. Unfortunately, Racine has lousy public transportation. Contrary to popular belief, I can and do drive. I just don’t fill the car up with gas. I get other people to do it (don’t judge). I have a phobia about it and I choose to avoid it when possible.

Having said that, we have an older car I like to drive. The gas gauge doesn’t work spectacularly. I last drove it at 2 a.m. and didn’t want to get gas then. I vowed I would the next time. Before anyone gets uppity, I realise it’s important to the car's maintenance.

Problem: The car barely started. Insert expletives here. Once it did, gas was direly needed. I went to the station on Spring St. Let it be known, I was glad to be going downhill. The car died at the stoplights before the gas station and I had to coast to the gas pump (while sweet talking the car). This was the first time I was happy to be there. I think the car agreed.

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Red And White All Over?

Oh Canada Day, you’re at the same time every year, aren’t you? I look forward to it, even if I have no way to recognise it. Patriotism is a strange thing. It’s even stranger when you have no one to celebrate with. (Maybe I feed off others like a pride vampire?) How do you celebrate a country? There are obviously no parades or fireworks here in America. I didn’t even wear Red and White like my mom. At best, I'll wish everyone a Happy Canada Day. It brings up questions but I generally enjoy fielding them. The biggest thing to remember is that it’s not a day of independence; think of it more like a birthday.

It also opens me up to the standard Canadian jokes. I think those wore thin in 2002. I was involved in a discussion today about pizza. I didn’t contribute because it was boring. Someone decided this must be because we didn’t have pizza in Canada. Surely I was confused. I didn't bother coming up with a witty response (if I had, imagine something witty about Canadian pizza toppings).

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Cars Suck; Home Edition

It was bound to happen. I decided to drive the nice car yesterday. By nice I mean, nicer then our other car. Three blocks from my mom’s house the power steering cuts out. Or, as I look it, a reminder of how little upper arm strength I have. I managed to make it to my mom’s house, but that's it. All things considered, I was lucky. I didn’t get hurt, I could safety pull over, and I have free towing. Before you mention it, driving a car after the power steering goes out is bad.

For nine years, I’ve had AAA. I’ve used them four times. Once I picked up a giant bolt in my tire and needed it repaired. Another time I locked the keys in the car while it was running (this should not be possible!). The other two times? I needed a tow because my power steering cut out. What are the odds of that? I might be wrong, but I get the impression this isn’t common. It’s all timing and coincidence. I wish I knew what caused it, but I have a feeling both times it was a fluke. We all know I excel at those.

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On the Seventh Day...

When I started working, they told me the hours would get easier. They lied. Every morning I wake up late and tired. Mondays are especially rough because I sleep in on Sundays. Once bedtime rolls around, I’m not aware how late it is. Last night was no exception. After buying my tickets to Brewfest, I went back to watching old episodes of House. Around 2 a.m. I call it a night. Five hours sleep is functional.

At 6 a.m., our lousy condo neighbours decided to ring our doorbell and bang on the door. Startled and confused, we thought we had imagined it. Half an hour later it happens again. We hear loud talking. Convinced something might be wrong, we answer the door. Their lower condo unit was flooding and could we be to blame? We don’t share a wall with their unit (they share 3 but not with us). They let us go back to sleep but continue to yell outside our window.

They amaze me. Personally, I would be inside trying to prevent further damage and calling the emergency number. Think much?

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I'm Not Listening, Not Anymore

I sit outside of the president’s office. Let me be the first to tell you nothing interesting happens in there. Most of the time I forget he’s there. With so many noises in the office, you learn to hone in on specific ones while ignoring others. I do this because I don’t want to be burdened with what happens in there (ignorance is bliss). It’s also none of my business.

Some of his visitors are harder to ignore. Their unfamiliar voices carry well. I catch sound bites. My favourite are the ones who are aware of me. “I should probably be quiet.” (Or maybe you shouldn't be saying it at all or saying it somewhere else.) Regardless, I don’t care. There’s only been a few times where I left because I was uncomfortable.

Considering I had a lovely long Memorial weekend, I’m cranky today. The gossip and politics are bothering me more than normal. Not even my Brobee or twitter are cheering me up today. My new wallpaper helped the most. I enjoy my wallpaper collection even if no one else does.


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What's In A Name?

I’ve always liked my name. I’ve never wanted to change it. My family’s naming structure is strange but simple. All of our first names have three syllables (this was important to my dad, but who knows why). Our middle names are after family members. I was named after my Great Aunt Rose (anyone who pulls that name off has to be cool).

Today one of my visitors had the same name as me. I didn’t like it. I felt intimidated and scrutinized. Apparently a big selling point of my name is how few Katrinas I run into. I don't feel (or want) a connection to them and cringe at the thought of having a common name. My name plummeted after the Hurricane and that's a plus.

One night I was at the bar with two James. They liked having the same name. Guess what guys, that’s why you have nicknames and I don't. People try to give me nicknames because they're lazy, but it never sticks. When I started working, they wanted to call me Katie. It was simply to avoid learning a new name. It didn't last long.

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What's Worth Saying

A coworker mentioned that half of the conversations we have at work would be grounds for termination elsewhere. People here often describe us as family. It feels like work, but we kid around and have a strange bond. This week I counted at least 5 completely inappropriate conversations (making it a slow week). Today I mocked our sales rep for being bald. Earlier our discussion involved heavy sexual innuendos. My favourite was the sales manager discussing what grass would be like if it were gay. Gay grass? The surrounding details were equally strange.

Beyond the conversations, they have inappropriate games. A popular one on the dock is: “Would you sleep with (insert name) for a million dollars?” To which, after much discussion, the answer is always yes.

To be fair, this is a manufacturing shop. Nudie pictures in toolboxes or a relaxed vernacular should be expected. Blue-collar jobs have some advantages. If those advantages happen to sneak into the office, I’m not going to complain.

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Please Don't Tease

I wish I could be a tourist everyday. I enjoy it more than I should. I go on any tours or behind the scenes event I can find. A few years ago Racine ran a program where you could get an adult, behind the scenes tour. Awesome! It was of the library, art museum, and public museum but I still went. It was more interesting then you'd think. Bonus: wine was provided.

There's news that the Wolverine movie was leaked. I admit I’m not overly jazzed to see the movie. Having said that, there’s something about seeing an imperfect movie. I’m one of those freaks. I watch for images that have been reversed or scene continuity. My SO learned never to watch a subtitled French movie with me (I wish I remembered enough to listen to the French dialog! It’d be so nice.)

People speculate it’s a marketing stunt. Are we seeing something exciting? Or what they want us to see? Talk has been favourable towards the movie, but part of me that hopes this isn’t a ploy. I’m tired of Hollywood deciding what I view.

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This One's For You

Oh sneezing. It brings out the strangest behaviour in people. You have social, health, and religious ramifications associated with it. Plus the fact you can’t sneeze with your eyes open? Annoying.

I sneeze a lot, usually in threes. Allergies are funny like that. I have learned that "cute" sneezes are impossible for me, or that I shouldn’t sneeze directly into my hands (ugh). I can keep my car steady while sneezing and sometimes can will a sneeze away. What I haven’t figured out is how to be ignored.

The thing I hate most about sneezing is the attention it attracts. People comments, stare, and/or move away. I wish they could also ignore. I've brought enough attention to the fact I have to sneeze; you don’t need to acknowledge it.

I know the polite thing is to bless me. I appreciate the thought. There’s always one in the crowd. They don’t have to be anywhere nearby but they have to say it. Have to bring yet more attention to me. I guess there are worse things then being over-blessed.

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