Though You Treat Me Like A Dancing Bear

Twelve years ago girl moves to new country. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl is oblivious to his advances but happy to have a friend. Girl gets to know boy and goes to the movies with him (as friends). Boy is happy. Girl is happy, but in denial. Soon boy and girl start dating.

Skip to the end.

Girl and boy get married one year ago.

In New York (because we're trendy like that).

Two of the hardest things about marriage that no one warned me about? Creating and using a new signature and calling the boy husband. The most common question I get? (It's not what you think.) Everyone asks me "How's married life?" I feel their agreement when I tell them it's the same.

I may be one of the few people who went into marriage knowing nothing does (or should) change. Except for my name. But that was my choice.

Ah marriage, I avoided you for as long as I could, but in the end you are like the smoke monster. All show and no action. You're not as scary as I imagined you to be.

<3

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I'll Be Better When I'm Older

At what point can you call yourself an adult? Is it a matter of age? Career? Wisdom? The concept of being an adult never appealed to me. I realise you can't escape it, I just wonder where that feeling of maturity comes from.

I used to think working full-time would make me feel older. Instead it has made me cynical (er, more so). Then I imagined getting married would do the trick. Go figure, nothing changed then either. If anything, I now wonder if I suck at being a grown up.

I don't clean. I stay up too late and sleep too little. Sometimes I eat cookie dough (with raw eggs for the double whammy) for dinner. I am sarcastic in nature and use naughty language.

On the other hand, I am employed full-time. I exercise regularly. I always pay my taxes and vote. I eat my vegetables and take my vitamins.

Maybe being adult means finding a balance rather than playing the comparison game. I hope that dirty jokes and staying up late always appeal to me. Whether it's "adult" or not is irrelevant.

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Put Me In A Room, Distraction Less

Procrastination is contagious. Here’s a list of 25 things I should be doing (in no particular order): 

1. Cleaning my house.
2. Going to bed at a normal time.
3. Changing my name on my credit cards (last thing!).
4. Updating this blog.
5. Writing back to a foreign exchange friend (from October).
6. Spending the last of my gift cards.
7. Writing my cousin back (from May).
8. Designing a poster for my work.
9. Dying my hair (priorities).
10. Cleaning my car (to sell it).
11. Planning a game night (it was never promised).
12. Visiting my family in Canada (that was promised).
13. Learning Norwegian (seriously).
14. Clothing shopping for a trip next month (see #6, hmmm).
15. Going strawberry picking (missed it last year).
16. Emptying my e-mail inbox (is 300 unread too many?).
17. Getting to work on time (see #2).
18. Watching the end of Prison Break (that show ended?).
19. Reading my book (from 6 months ago).
20. Baking cookies (per request).
21. Finishing this list.

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Toonies, Tuques, And Turks

I’ve lived in the United States for over ten years. Even when I first moved here, it didn’t seem foreign. Not to my 15-year old brain. It did feel a bit like a mirror universe; things were slightly askew. Gone was the French, in with the Spanish. Obviously, the flags were different (and plentiful). The houses were shorter and older. It wasn’t acceptable to say pop, cutlery, or tuque. School started an hour earlier, ran in quarters, and had seven classes a day.

There are things I miss about Canada, but they’re not what you'd expect. I liked picking up change off the ground and having it be worth money. I adore Big Turks and proper hot tea. I miss seeing and reading bilingual anything. Chinooks and the Northern Lights are amazing. I miss hockey, curling, and the frozen ice pond we used as a skating rink.

Home is where you live. People wonder why I haven’t moved back. I loved living there but it’s not home. You can never move back to what you had. You can only move to someplace new.

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Twenty-Four Hour Notice Appreciated

Saturday night the (glorified) SO and I hosted our first game night. It was something we had wanted to do for a while. Months ago we made plans with two couples. We planned games to try (no monopoly!) and food to serve (nacho bar!). Last week I confirmed the time and date with both couples. We were ready.

I woke up early Saturday to get all my errands finished. I splurged on new wine glasses and fresh blueberries. Everything was coming together. The first couple called to say they would be late. No problem. The second couple (the one I planned the whole party for) called 15 minutes before they were supposed to arrive. I assumed they needed directions. Wrong. They were calling to cancel. She decided she wasn’t feeling well. They wanted to reschedule.

Are. You. Kidding. Me.

We still held our game night. We had a blast. Part of me is upset that they blew us off like that. You didn't know any earlier than that? If I were a doctor’s office, she would be charged for the appointment.

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Want Me Outta My Head

I’ve been spending a lot of time in my head lately. Earlier this week I was thinking of things I liked starting with the same letter. This led me to find three things I liked for each letter of the alphabet.

Afternoons, Airports, Aprons
Baking, Bed, Breakfast
Chauffeurs, Chicken, Conventions
Disneyworld, Ducks, Dull Days
Easter, Eating Out, Estates Sales
Farscape, Foreigners, Frosting
Game Shows, Google, Grumpy Men
Hockey, Horror Movies, Hot Tea
Indian Food, International Influences, (Teh) Intraweb
Japanese Culture, Journals, Jury Duty
Kilties, Klingons, Knights
Laziness, Lemons, Lotion
Microbrews, Midnight, Multi-Tasking
Naps, Necklaces, Nut-Free
Oatmeal, Overcast, Oxen
Pajamas, Pigeons, Pumpkins
Questions, Quinoa, Quips
Rabbits, Receptionists, Road Trips
Sci-Fi, Scrabble, Showers
Tomorrow, Topperstix, Tourists
Understatements, Umbrellas, Uniforms
Vacations, Volunteering, Voting
X-Rated, Xenophoes, Xmas
Yetis, Yo Gabba Gabba, Yoopers
Zombies, Zoos, Zucchini

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This One's For You Mike Or A Man, A Plan

This week marked the anniversary of a friend’s death. His story was a sad one and sufficient to say it's still weighs heavily. The SO and I celebrated his life the best way we knew how: By mocking him. Cleverly. Respectfully. It was genius (despite the fact it came out of a night of drinking).

Mike was a strange, cranky, and stubborn guy. He worked hard and would call your bullshit out with colourful language. He was funny and fiercely loyal. He died three years ago from complications of untreated diabetes. It was a senseless, slow, and painful death. He slipped into a coma a day before his 50th birthday and never woke up.

For reasons unknown, he wore the same thing everyday; long sleeve white shirt and navy Dockers. He literally owned 50 of each. It was quirky. We decided to emulate him to remember him. Dressed in Mike’s finest, we came to work. Since he worked at our company for 25 years, many people got it. A few are thinking of doing the same thing next year. This pleases me.

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PSA: Get diagnosed. Learn more about the disease. Support the cause. At: http://www.diabetes.org

Vacationing At My Desk

A few years ago I was offered a promotion at work. Well, that’s how they phrased it. I would have been moved off reception and into a cubicle to do various and sundry clerical tasks. What they failed to realise is I love being a receptionist and to move me would have been a punishment. It’s a sweet gig; I have the largest desk in the office, it’s next to the president's, and everyone knows my name. I like to tell people I get paid to talk.

Except for this week. Saturday I went to a friend’s birthday party at a bar. The combination of a sore throat, bar talk, and smoky air, caused me to lose my voice. Completely. You don’t realise how dependent you are on it. I feel like Ariel without the sexy flipper.

Since I’m not on my deathbed, I refuse to take unpaid leave. So I sit here, helplessly watching the phone ring. As much as I miss my callers, this has been relaxing. The office has been fantastic at picking up the slack, but they’re frustrated (I may or may not feel bad about that).

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Don't Shoot The Follower

The line between bullies and pushovers is tiny. If there was any doubt, I lean heavily towards the latter. I’ve never liked to be a leader and before I was receptionist, I was quieter and shyer than I am now. Part of me wishes I could work the system better. Unfortunately, the battle is decided by who is the most argumentative.

Imagine you’re at a crowded restaurant. Two people have the same problem; they need a table. The pushover would accept the server's apology and wait patiently. The bully, on the other hand, would yell and argue. You know how this ends, right? The bully would get a table, free meal, and an apology because they didn’t want to put up with him. The pushover would eventually get one (maybe with nicer service).

It doesn’t seem right that people get rewarded for being rude. At Disney, the more you complain, the more they pacify you. Part of me is envious of them for speaking up and getting what they want. The other part would rather sleep with a clear conscience.

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Samuel Peeples' Evolution

I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. It annoys me that they are all the rage in January. Accomplishments shouldn’t depend on a calendar. I've never made one but I would consider it if they were as great as everyone thinks. My exercise facility sees a frenzy of new faces (similar to churches at Christmas or Easter time). Until February they’ll be in my way. Obviously, as far as a motivational catalyst, they aren’t effective.

I prefer to look at the year as a whole. I may try a few new things or travel somewhere new. You know, explore strange new worlds; seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go...What? I have to keep it simple; otherwise a new year will only mean more work and I’m lazy.

The closest thing I have to a resolution this month is to relax. My stress level was so high in December; it’s hard to come down cold turkey. I think it fueled me through the whole month and now I can’t function without it. People, a receptionist doped up on stress? It’s not pretty.

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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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