Compare and Contrast

I'm addicted to those design shows where they re-do someone's bedroom or bathroom or livingroom or diningroom or whatever room. I never thought I had a creative bone in my body but apparently I've learned a few things watching those shows! Here are some examples of what we've been able to accomplish at home recently (click for larger pics).

Bedroom Before:



Bedroom After:



Livingroom Before:



Livingroom After:



Diningroom Before:



Diningroom After:



Fireplace Before (it's the grey slate in the far right of the photo):



Fireplace After (note the use of Mexican tiles in the new mantle):



Apparently, I am a Design Goddess after all! :)

Fun With Words

There has been some debate on another blog about the proper spelling of the word "y'all". It is a southern idiom and a contraction of "you all" (in Spanish, we say "ustedes" which cannot be contracted). The rules say that when using an apostrophe to create a contraction, it replaces missing letters. Therefore "you all" would contract to "y'all" with the apostophe replacing the letters "ou" from the word "you".

However, apparently in the South, they don't say "you" -- they say "ya" and therefore argue that the proper contraction is "ya'll", with the apostrophe replacing the "a" in "all". I somehow doubt people in the South who eschew the use of contractions are walking around saying "ya all" but this is what they are trying to make us believe. Whatever ...

On the subway this morning, I noticed a poster advertising the Downtown Yonge Kidzfest with a Window Wonderland (you can see the poster here). Note the second sentence in this beauty: "RYERSON STUDENTS MUST CREATE HOLIDAY WINDOW DISPLAYS ON A BUDGET OF $100. COME DOWN AND SEE HOW THEY FAIR." (emphasis added)

You would think that the person who designed this poster should have a better command of the English language. I'm only writing a blog so my slip-ups (I call them "typos" ... tee hee) are not plastered all over the subway. By the way, this obsession started long before I started reading Lynne Truss' grammar books (note the correct use of the possessive apostrophe here!). :)

My Commute This Morning

You all know how much I love taking the subway to work in the mornings (it is the only thing I don't like about my new living arrangement). Lately, the subway has been PACKED in the mornings, with people jammed right up against the doors and not moving when the doors open to allow other people to get on the train (even though the middle of the car is empty).

This morning, it was the same scenario but I stepped on anyway and this guy stepped on right behind me. By the time we got to the next stop, I was hot, cranky and not at all sure this guy behind me was going to behave himself, so I pushed my way back off the train, vowing to wait as long as possible for a comfortable ride into work.

Less than two minutes later, an empty train pulled into the station and I got on totally empty car. I had the entire car to myself! It was amazing. I laughed out loud at the joy of it! :)

The Good Old Days

This weekend, Rob and I had our first overnight guest since the renovations were completed. My friend since Grade 4, Mary Ann ("MAK") arrived on Saturday afternoon. MAK is a real estate agent so we were really interested in her "professional" opinion of the condo. I am happy to report that her initial market "eval" was extremely positive and our attempts to create a warm and inviting home were confirmed by her experienced eye and friendly nature.

While she was here, I dug out a photo album with old photos in it so that I could show Rob how she looked in a red polkadot bikini! Once we started taking that walk down the road of remembrances, I came across a bunch of black and white photos from my formative years. Some of these are just too cute not to share ...

Obviously, my love for shoes and fashion started after this photo was taken!


My inordinate fondness for stuffed animals was also deeply ingrained during the first 12 months of my life -- this bear looks bigger than I do!


My life changed dramatically when my brother was born but there are still days when I let him worship his big sister (on the Dodge).


I learned the price of beauty early in the 1960s ...


I believe my disdain for organized religion commenced after I was forced to wear this little number ...


I used to be skinny (too bad I also looked like a boy). No wonder my Dad insisted I get a "girl's" bike ...


And finally, the famous bikini shot. Mary Ann looks pretty much the same (after two kids, no less!) but I've filled out somewhat since this photo was taken in the 70s.

Bah, Humbug!

Ho-ho-hold the display business
HELEN GODFREY (Globe & Mail - November 9, 2007)

Toronto -- Here is an idea whose time may have come: Stores with elaborate Christmas window displays before Nov. 25 should be fined a $1,000 a day. They can make the cheques out to the United Way or Food Bank.

I know they've probably had their holiday merchandise on hand since the boxcar arrived from China in August, but I resent having the season thrust at me. Christmas used to be such an enjoyable time of year.

This woman is overstating the obvious (and I could kiss her for it). Every year, it seems that this Xmas crap starts earlier and earlier. This year, the Santas were competing with the Satans on All Hallows Eve. BTW, I refuse to type "Christ"mas because if God was still around (you know he's not or none of this would be happening), he would regret the hell out of lending his name to this unholy-holiday.

My family knows how much I hate Xmas but I still had to remind my Mom after she asked me, "Tell me again why you hate Xmas so much?" *sigh* It was difficult to explain to Rob. It will be our first Xmas together and implored him NOT to put up a tree. And forget my friend Mary Ann. She LOVES Xmas ... and snow ... and skiing. I'm really starting to worry about her. Anyway, here are the reasons:

1. It happens in December. When it's cold. And snowy. Nothing good can come from this type of weather.

2. The commercials start in OCTOBER. WTF?

3. The music sucks. Actually, it is enough to drive you to drink (but not drink and drive because that would be illegal). When is the last time anyone wrote a NEW Xmas song? It's all the same old crap, regurgitated by geezer rockstars with non-existent careers and too many grandchildren.

4. It turns normal people into weirdos and weirdos into lunatics who can talk about nothing other than buying gifts for people who don't need anything and weird food like eggnog and pudding. *barf*

5. It makes it impossible for anti-Xmas people like me and my friend Heidi to go into the underground at lunchtime to buy food or tampons. LOL

So when it comes to Xmas, I JUST SAY NO!!!

My Gynie Has A Website

Nothing generates fear in a woman more than anticipating a trip to the gynaecologist. Actually, I’ve never had a gynaecologist before so when my doctor informed me that he was referring me to one, I was quite nervous. My last two PAP tests came back inconclusive. Apparently my cervix is (1) just too small or (2) just too evasive for my family doctor to find and capture its cells. Actually, I know it is a little bit off centre but I’ve never been sent elsewhere because of it! Bad, bad cervix.

Initially, I was scheduled to meet with Dr. Gifford-Jones (not his real name but his nom de plume) last Wednesday but jury duty interfered. What's worse than a trip to the stirrups? JURY DUTY! Unfortunately, jury duty turned out to be a big "non event" because, while we were initially told we were required at the Court House for three days (thereby giving me ample time to plow through three unread novels desperately needing my attention), we were dismissed after the first day. What a letdown! After all these years of working in legal, I've never experienced a jury trial. Oh well, I'll get my chance in another three years.

So anyway, back to my new best friend, Dr. G-F. I had to meet him at the clinic where my family doctor also has his practice. Since Dr. G-F is only at the clinic one day a week, he doesn't have a receptionist and sees patients through the walk-in clinic. I arrived a few minutes early and sat waiting, trying to calm my butterflies. Shortly thereafter, the doctor came into the waiting room and called my name, introducing himself to me. What service! We sat in his office to discuss the "procedure" and he told me a little bit about himself. At age 83, he has done more than 150,000 pelvic exams. I felt I was in good hands, both literally and figuratively. He assured me he was a "gentle fellow".

All of my initial concerns dissipated under his warm, wonderful demeanor. I was actually looking forward to this! (Well, not really but I was certainly a lot calmer than when I arrived.) The examination went smoothly and everything checked out normally. After I dressed, we talked in his office for a few minutes about writing, working, relationships, dating websites, marriage and birth control. I could have talked to him for hours, he is such an interesting man! Anyway, here is the link to his various health-related articles. They are informative, humourous and timely: Health Links

Remembering a Family Hero

I remember spending a lot of time at the townshouse in Waterloo that was home to my Uncle Ken and his family after they made the move from Windsor. I was a young teenager in the early 1970s and my seven cousins formed a raucous crowd so different from my own small family. I loved spending time with them. My cousins Maggie and Teresa became the sisters I never had. I knew I qualified as family simply by surname but the love shown to me by my Uncle Ken and Aunt Theresa indicated that I had become an honourary member of their brood as well.

I remember the late nights at my parents' home with their playing cards with my Aunt and Uncle for hours. I remember the sounds of my Dad banging the cards on the kitchen table, the clink of highball glasses and the smell of my Uncle Ken's cigarettes. I also remember the commotion that resulted whenever my Mom and Aunt Theresa won a hand of euchre. The men loudly accused the women of cheating and this increased the noise level. I struggled to stay awake so I could listen to them laughing.

I remember the road trips I made with Maggie and Teresa to London after my Aunt and Uncle moved there in the early 1980s. Aunt Theresa often had some story to tell us about her latest attempt to scare the crap out of my Uncle by hiding behind the door at the top of the stairs, jumping out and yelling "BOO"! Uncle Ken always had some homemade craft to show me, like the infamous "footstool" with real running shoes on the four legs. I never found it too difficult to sweet talk him into making me one of his tart lemon meringue pies.

I remember a visit from my Uncle Ken after I got married and moved to Ottawa. Before he retired, he came there on Post Office business and took me to dinner at a revolving restaurant. We had a grand time talking about the family and the "olden" days. We laughed like hell when we discovered my purse had remained intact on the window ledge while we circled the restaurant for over an hour!

I remember my Dad and I meeting Ken, my Aunt and my cousins on King Street in Waterloo across from the Ali Baba Steakhouse to watch the Oktoberfest parade every Thanksgiving Monday. Uncle Ken and my Dad entertained the crowd with their smartass remarks to all parade participants, especially the two mayors and sports celebrities. I can still see the pride on my Uncle's face and the tears in his eyes as he saluted the dwindling number of verterans marching in the parade, from his wheelchair.

I remember going to see him in the London Veterans Hospital after his stroke and seeing the sparkle in his eye when he saw me. His mind remained sharp but not as sharp as his tongue as he barked his orders to the nursing staff. I pitied them from my exalted status of Favourite Niece. I tried to talk him into moving closer so we could see him more often but he was stubborn to the end and insisted on ending his days there.

I remember my cousin Mark running across the funeral home parking lot on that cold November day to pass a photo of his late father to my Dad through the open window of the car. And I remember my Dad's frosty breath as he told Mark, "Your Dad was my hero".

In fond remembrance of my Uncle Ken, who left us on November 2, 1998. You are gone but never forgotten.

Stupid People (or if I ran the world, it would be perfect!)

When I leave work at 4:30PM, I usually go out the Bay Street exit and head south for half a block to the lights. Sometimes, I need to go north. Goddess forgive me! Unfortunately, half of the people who live outside the city are heading SOUTH, to Union station, so they can get on the commuter trains and head out of the city and back to their cozy bedroom communities. These cities generally have an area code of 905. Toronto’s is 416. We therefore called them “905ers” and, while some of them are friends of mine, the ones who refuse to give me 2” of spare sidewalk deserve a bitch slap to the head. HELLO! I live in Toronto! My property taxes PAY for the fucking sidewalk you’re walking on so don’t you DARE push me out of the way so you can catch your precious train! GRRR!!!

Why do I continue to get involved financially with my friends? Is it because I am a nice person? Is it because I inherently trust my friends to be responsible adults? Is it because I always have money and they don’t? I have one friend in particular who never pays me back when she says she’s going to pay me back. Ergo, I have to send her emails, constantly reminding her of the outstanding debt. Then, when she does have the money, she makes me come and get it from her or she gives me $12.50 in nickels and dimes in a Ziploc bag. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? As far as I’m concerned, she should be hand delivering it to me with sugar on top, and thanking me profusely for giving her to loan in the first place. Never again. GRRR!!!

What is it with people who bring strollers on to public transport and then block the aisles? I am fairly dexterous. Even in my Anne Klein boots with the 3” heel I can run for the streetcar, carry home 20 pounds of groceries and jump over 2’ puddles. (In fact, I don’t buy any type of footwear unless I can run full tilt in them – except maybe slippers.) Some stupid man with a stupid kid in a stupid stroller was on the bus this morning. He sat in the first seat and parked the kid and the stroller in front of him. As a result, everyone who got on to the bus had to turn sideways and walk through a space less than a foot wide, including the crippled, almost blind man with the cane, the young father trying to hold on to his two rambunctious toddlers and the fat woman with her shopping cart. GET A CLUE PEOPLE! You are inconveniencing a whole bunch of people here and potentially causing an accident. I blame the bus driver who should have fixed this problem from the get go. GRRR!!!

Then there is this woman I work with -- she sits behind me and we share a work space with a low dividing wall between us. It is a nice office and most of the people here are really great and friendly. I was moved into this space while I as away on vacation and while I was disappointed with the switch, I really didn't have a lot of input into the process so I just accepted it and got on with the job. Unfortunately, this woman has not said "boo" to me since I started working here. One of the other women came over, shook my hand, introduced herself and welcomed me to the neighbourhood. This other one can't even say "good morning", "goodbye",
"shut up" or "drop dead". I even tried to make small talk with her in the coffee room one morning but she walked out on me in the middle of a sentence. Now most of you know that I am a fairly sociable person but how do you deal with this crap? It sure makes coming to work a pleasant experience ... NOT! I am not used to ignoring another human being, no matter how weird they are. GRRR!!!

What the fuck is wrong with people?