Best. Mittens. Ever.

Christmas came early for me this year. I love these crazy mitts.

December Rage

December is a cruel, cruel month. It starts out okay...and then you realize you have some type of holiday shindig every single night, no time to do your Christmas shopping, you haven't even thought about mailing out cards, your workload is insane, and oh yeah, it's fucking cold out there. And everyone is in such a hurry all the time, because they're all just trying to keep up.

I catch myself getting absolutely enraged if someone brushes by me on the sidewalk. Things that normally only slightly annoy me (like bikes on the sidewalk, or the Dufferin bus) are becoming all-out infuriating. I caught myself muttering something not very nice in someone's general direction at the mall yesterday. A tiny ball of rage is welling within me, and it's starting to freak me out. I momentarily considered changing the name of this blog to surly-girl.

I haven't even hit the family time portion of December yet. Received a card in the mail from my parents last week that said "Hope to see you on the 25th. Will call." "Hope?" Where else am I going to be on Christmas Day?

Although, I set an all-time record for Most Efficient Holiday Shopping yesterday - all gifts, 3 hours. My tips? Giant headphones, loud music, and a very brisk paced walk. I'm an expert crowd weaver. No hemming and hawing over gifts - if you initially think the recipient might like it, go with it - they will (and if they don't, they can always return it.) And also, smile a lot, or someone might kill you. Because everyone else out there is feeling the same thing, but if you flash them a smile, they realize maybe they're overreacting.

Everything's wrapped, the holiday parties are mostly done - presents await you - you're almost in the clear. Get through the work-crazyness and you're home free.

Is it January yet?

I Heart Toronto

Really. Sometimes I can't imagine not living here. And I've decided that I simply need to have my digital camera with me at all times. All times. Or I'm going to miss something amazing.

Like yesterday, when on my way down to the subway platform at Bloor Station, I saw the best buskers ever. Two guys dressed up in convict jumpsuits, with army boots and actual balls and chains around their ankles, one playing a banjo, one playing a guitar; both singing Bluegrass tunes. They had a crowd around them and people clapping and cheering, and little kids dancing, and everyone tapping their feet, and I thought, "Holy crap, how lucky am I that I get to see this?"

A co-worker of mine was in the crowd watching, and said he'd been standing there for the past twenty minutes just watching and listening and feeding them money and requesting Johnny Cash songs. And I was rushing, and really should have just hurried along on my way, but then they busted out some Hank Williams Sr, and I was just a goner.

It's amazing how much of an impact something as simple as two buskers playing songs on a subway platform can have on you. I'm just sad about two things -- I didn't have my camera with me to forever capture the experience, and I got there too late to hear I Got Stripes.

Heard in my 'hood...

Best thing that happened to me today: I'm walking the mutt near Christie Pits Park and a ganster-ey Snoop Dogg lookalike approaches doing that shuffle-ey hip hop walk - like he's got a bum leg from, you know, getting shot or something. He's rapping softly to himself, between drags of his cigarette. Just as we get close, he looks up, smiles, says "S'up-pity s'up?" to Siris, and shuffles along on his way.

I kid you not. "S'up-pity s'up".

Awesome.

Muzzled!

Just look at this sad, sad photo of my beautiful girl, Siris, wearing what will be her latest fashion accessory come end of October, thanks to Michael Bryant, Ontario's idiot Attorney General, and our moronic Liberal government.

She looks petrified. She looks like she's saying "why are you doing this to me?"

But you know, it's this or run the risk of having her seized and euthanized. Our province has passed a law banning pit bulls, and by pit bulls they really mean any dog that looks remotely like a pit bull. Honestly. The law says if your dog even looks like a pit bull, it counts, unless you can prove otherwise.

Of course, many of us are fighting it. People are putting up websites and calling their MPs, and never voting Liberal again. Groups and private citizens are funding a legal challenge - and the case will go to court in about eight months and hopefully, hopefully things will change. In the meantime, Siris needs to get used to wearing a muzzle, and I will need to get used to an onslaught of verbal abuse every time I walk my dog.

And through this whole upsetting ordeal, I'm continually inspired by those who are helping, who are organizing events, getting the word out, and fighting tooth and nail for our rights and for our dogs.

BannedAid could use any financial support for the legal challenge - if you happen to win the lotto this week, please remember them.

Off to the lake

In a few short hours, I'll be just outside of Bancroft, Ontario at a lakefront cottage with my friends. I'll be pretty much spending an entire week doing nothing but hanging out with some of my favourite people - lounging, boozing, swimming, reading, and trying to get a little sun so I'm not so damn pale anymore.

This place is sight unseen save for a few internet pictures so here's hoping it's not a total disaster - being as I planned the whole thing and I don't want to have to answer to anyone who's unhappy about anything. Mostly I'm wishing for no neighbours on either side, or at least neighbours who don't care if we're loud and rowdy, neighbours who love dogs but don't have one, neighbours laid back enough to not mind it if Siris runs all over their property like a lunatic.

There's no phone up there. No internet connection. And my most ambitious goal each day may be to read a chapter or so of my book. And that sounds perfect to me.

P.S. Victor is actually 41 by the way, cares very deeply about the difference between egoism and egotism, and has decided we ought to consider going into business together - running a boarding facility for dogs up in the country. Weird. And thanks to Victor, the king of self-help books, an old and ratty version of Keeping the Love You Find is sitting on my coffee table right now.

Neighbouhood Crazos

"Crazo" is my term for crazy people. I live in Crazytown - I describe my neighbourhood as "colourful" which is code for ample crazy people. There's a bar just around the corner from me that is frequented by drunken, mentally unstable people from pretty much 11 am on, every day. They're friendly, harmless crazos, but crazos none the less. All races, both male and female, all ages, they've met each other at this bar and they're buddies. War vets, gangster looking folks, trailer trash looking folks, disabled folks. Who all love booze and who all love this bar. On the way to the park with the mutters, I pass them all the time. The dog loves them, and of course they all call her over and she wiggles around and does the kidney bean dance and is happy for the attention. So much for my big bad intimidating dog that you'd think would keep these people away.

Then, there's the coffee shop by the park. More crazos. Younger hip hop looking guys and their girlfriends whose collection of pitbulls seems to grow by the week. "Yo!" they call to me as we walk by, "Is that a pitbull?" And so I meet the coffee shop gang. They also seem harmless but literally they spend every day hanging out at the coffee shop - I don't know what they do for money. They light firecrackers in the park and drive suped-up sedans to and from their local hangout.

There's The Old Hat Guy With The Big Black Dog who I see three times a day, every day without fail. He looks like a gentle soul and he knows everyone in the neighbourhood. I first met him over a year ago when I didn't even live around here. In the park.

And Victor, my newest neighbourhood pal, is a hippy looking guy about 35. He's an interesting guy with so many stories. He's a pothead, who revealed to me that The Old Hat Guy With The Big Black Dog is the local pot dealer in the hood. No wonder he knows everyone.

Victor seems quite normal in fact, and doesn't seem like a crazo to begin with. He's charming and really intelligent and actually kind of good looking. But there's a touch of crazo there. He's decided that him and I should be friends and he's always around when I'm walking the dog, so he just sort of joins the walk and tells me stories about his life. Unfortunately he's found out where I live and sometimes knocks on my door. He brings me books to read and treats for the dog and asks me a zillion questions. I've had discussions with him about autism, feral children, wildlife, the environment, and probably a million other things. He's all over the place. It's like my own personal Discovery Channel - this guy knows so many random facts about science and sociology.

Victor was a hardcore drug addict at one point. He constantly references "going through a lot of personal and mental issues". I get the feeling he was probably institutionalized at some point. He was married for almost 8 years. He volunteers as a cook at community centres for people with mental and physical disabilities. I don't think he has a real job. He reads a ton of self help books. For 6 months he was a Born-Again Christian and approached total strangers about Asking The Lord Jesus Christ Into Their Hearts. Then one day, poof, he wasn't a Born-Again Christian anymore.

He is very particular about language - words and their exact meanings. Hearing someone use the wrong word for something drives him nuts. I had a twenty minute discussion with him once about the difference between "honesty" and "integrity". He is constantly analyzing me, saying you seem this, or you seem that, and then asking if he's right in his analysis of me. He soaks in information like a sponge - and wants a lot of it - Victor's favourite phrase has got to be "Please elaborate." I think he's an interesting guy and you know, I actually like talking to him, except that, oh yeah, I'm worried he's in love with me.

Generally, I seem to have a tattoo on my forehead that says "Crazos, please talk to me!" so I'm quite used to meeting, uh, colourful people...but sometimes this neighbourhood can be a bit much even for me.

Ah, Birthdays

I turned 29 on Thursday. It was a weird birthday for me - the first birthday where I woke up alone - in my own place. The Mutters was even visiting the ex, so it was quiet and I had to wait till I got to work before anyone wished me a happy birthday. At work, they publish all employee birthdays on our intranet site, so it's impossible to keep it a secret.

Oh right - I'm back at work. It has been a while. After three months of glorious nothing, I decided it was time. So I went back, and took a new job at my old company. It's sort of a big step in that I'm managing a group of people who are specialists in things I know virtually nothing about. It's challenging - and I think I'll be good at it. I'm stressing myself out initially though, because I'm the type of person who wants to know everything all at once and fix everything that needs to be fixed right away. At least when I have a plan, I'll feel better.

So yeah,I'm back at work. My new team bought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my birthday, even though they barely know me yet - they're good people. I got yummy cupcakes from a good friend, complete with candles. And on the being back at work note, it's amazing how much the same everything is there. But it's comforting in a way. And I'm glad I didn't decide to go work for a really corporate white walls, cubicles, florescent lighting, Office Space type company. It was a bit weird being "the one who came back" for a while, but now it's honestly like nothing's changed. And that's good.

I feel old though - 29. I was reading through a bar/lounge/pub guide which described the clientele at some of my favourite hangouts as "mid twenties" - I realized I'm not in that age bracket anymore, and that was just strange. 30 will be a scary birthday - but I'm not quite there yet.

Robo-Cop

Today I was in a comic book store, and there were two guys dressed up as Storm Troopers walking around the entrance. I was fumbling around in my purse and didn't notice at first. When I looked up I almost walked into one of them. When I left the store the Storm Troopers were on the sidewalk outside, marching back and forth. A car full of teenage boys slowed down and one of the boys rolled down his window, leaned out, and yelled "Heyyyy! it's Robo-Cop!" and the rest of his friends cheered. Who doesn't know what a Storm Trooper looks like?

Hello Productivity!

This is going to be a productive week for me. I'll be going on several missions and accomplishing several tasks. Hopefully. As productive as a week can be for someone who's currently not working full time. So far, not bad. I've accomplished the following:

1. Cleaned fish tank.
2. Purchased 5 new fish - 2 of which, my lovely pearl gouramis, named George & Loretta, are dead already - I won't be going back to that pet store any time soon. Fish should come with warrantees. Owner negligence cannot be the reason if they die within 24 hours.
3. Filed my income tax return (well before the deadline, I might add!). I'm getting a whopping $91 refund, which is next to nothing, but which I'm ridiculously happy about because I thought I was going to owe money.
4. Scheduled my next career counselling appointment.
5. Helped teach my 3 Tuesday dog classes.

Not an awful start, anyway. Oh, and discovery of the week is definitely Kicking Horse Coffee, which not only tastes fantastic but has that wonderful coffee aroma - now I need to purchase one of those programmeable coffee makers, so I can wake up to that every morning without having to put in a single bit of effort.

I'm planning to start jogging every day with the mutters, but I'm waiting for it to get a bit warmer. I have to walk her anyways, so why not give us both a little more exercise while I'm at it? The idea of me jogging is hilarious in itself, given that I'm not exactly the sporty/active type, and that I smoke half a pack of cigarettes everyday. We'll see how it works out. The weather is getting nicer and I think that spring might actually be around the corner. It's sunny, the snow is melting, and I hear birds chirping - all good signs. I rediscovered my Ella Fitzgerald CD today and it was the perfect spring day listen - happy, hopeful and lively. I'd forgotten how much I've missed it.

Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul...

Christ, that song is following me around everywhere. Honestly, it's starting to get a bit disturbing. Has it been on every Toronto radio station at least once on the same day? Or do stores just have it on their store CD and loop it over and over and over? I swear, at the convenience store, at the LCBO, at Honest Ed's... and there always seems to be someone in front of me in line, singing it very quietly, under their breath, but like they really want to just BELT it out. Sigh. Dobie Gray apparently recorded it. I had to google that. I don't know who Dobie Gray is - that was probably his one big hit. Cool name, though. Too bad that's one of the most irritating songs known to man.

I did dinner at the parents last night, and surprisingly it didn't turn into dysfunctional family drama night. And I got to bring home date squares! The mutters came with me and got to run around the backyard at top speed like the lunatic she is. I took this photo of her - hopefully I can make it show up here - still learning the blogging ropes, dontcha know.

My parents are finally starting to tolerate her, and she behaved very nicely - until she puked in the car on the way home, poor girl.

I smoked a joint with a friend and watched Finding Nemo to cap off my evening. And I really liked that movie, actually, when I thought I'd really hate it. I haven't laughed that hard in a while - who knew?

On Inertia

If you can ever take a leave of absence from your job, I highly recommend it. That's what I'm doing right now - week 8 of a 6 week leave of absence. Heh. I just can't bring myself to go back to the grind, whatever grind that may be. Any work=grind, I suppose. I was doing a crappy job at a crappy job. I wasn't happy. I had savings, so I figured, I'll just stop doing it. That was 8 weeks ago. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. People keep asking me what I've been doing with my time. It's amazing how quickly time can pass when you haven't actually done that much.

Errands eat up so much of the days. For example, I've been trying to fix up my apartment. I'm obsessed with replicating the concept of The Heavenly Bed. If you've ever slept at a Westin, you know what I'm talking about. And mind you it's just me and the dog sleeping there at the moment, but hell, nothing too good for me and the mutters. I believe in spoiling myself upon occasion, and I spend a lot of hours sleeping. So, swanky sheets and pillows purchased. And bedskirt, too. You know, just because.

I successfully micromanaged my landlords' handling of, uh, a rodent issue. No more holes in the bathroom walls, no more hearing strange noises in the night.

I went to Glasgow for a week to visit an old friend. Took in a week's worth of architecture, art, design, and culture. Figured out what tattoo design I'd get, if indeed I ever decided I wanted a tattoo. Went to Edinburgh again, and walked around the big Castle there. Took a lot of photos that didn't come out as nicely as I'd hoped.

I'm also working a second night at the dog obedience school, to pick up some extra pocket change. (Swanky sheets, as you might have guessed, ain't cheap.) I'm teaching Siris how to master the Weave Poles. Trying to teach her would be more accurate, actually.

I've been going to see a Career Counselor whose job it is to help me figure out what my next step is. Except that last week, I skipped my session and I have yet to reschedule it. I went into work last week to meet with our Director of Operations about some jobs, and all my old work friends just kept saying how happy I looked. That's what a leave of absence does to you - it's fantastic! So, there's a job I might want to do, but I might not. Today I watched Law & Order in French, rather than do my taxes. I understood most of it. And I've been meaning to set up a grooming appointment for the dog but for some reason, feel too lazy to even call and make the appointment. Sometimes it's good to do nothing. But sometimes, it gets boring. Tomorrow I'm going to kick myself in the ass and do something important.

testing...testing...check...check...

Greetings, people of the internet!