Eighty Million Times

Sunday Dog Bliss

2010-11-14T13:27:00.003-05:00

Oh, the irony...

2010-11-11T12:27:00.000-05:00

Two years ago I was living with my ex-boyfriend who was so into work that it drove me crazy. I had made the decision to leave my corporate-world job, because work had been taking over my own life. When I worked there, I would come home from a long day at the office, still thinking about projects and timelines and deliverables. Powerpoint was my best friend - I would spend evenings slaving away at presentations, answering "urgent" emails. I'd take work phone calls during personal time. I was stressed out all the time. I could not make that mystical work-life balance concept work for me. I felt great about leaving for something completely different, but I was frustrated beyond belief that my partner seemed to live for all those things that I'd left behind.

School was a whole different kind of work - two years of learning things I was definitely not hard wired for. Memorizing anatomy, forcing myself to grasp physiology and clinical pathology. And trying out a slew of new practical skills. The frustration that comes with learning something and not instantly being good at it was certainly trying. Observe. Read. Try. Fail. Tweak my technique. Try again. Better, but still, mostly fail. Tweak more. Try again. It takes time and it takes determination, and it takes a thick skin. While in school, I was insanely busy.

And now, lo and behold, I'm still insanely busy. All I seem to be doing is working. How did this happen? How's that for irony? Between veterinary nursing and dog training, I have a whole new life... which is mostly about work. The difference is, I love it. I feel like I'm making a difference. I'm helping people and I'm helping pets. I'm learning how to relate to a lot of different people and animals, and how to react to a lot of different scenarios. And when I leave work, there's no taking stuff home with me.

Plus, I'm through all the hard stuff, and I'm in the best part of the work phase - I'm getting good at things! I teach my own agility class at doggie school. Somehow after a day in the clinic, commuting to job #2 and then assisting in two beginner dog classes, it's nine o'clock at night, and I can control a whole group of owners and dogs as they conquer agility obstacles together. I get my energy up, I give direction confidently, I motivate clients. People ask me for help. I look forward to it. At the clinic too, my skills are improving. I keep up with the hectic pace. I prep surgeries, I monitor anesthetics, I place IV catheters, I collect blood samples, I x-ray, I clean teeth, I educate clients, I passed a course in therapeutic laser techniques. I'm being exposed to more, and all in all, my confidence just keeps rising. It's a great feeling.

Choosing a career that pays crap, means I need to work hard. I didn't envision working two jobs, but right now, from a financial perspective, it's a must. (Memo to those that think they can comfortably live solo in Toronto with pets on a Vet Tech salary: you cannot!) But for me, it's okay, because I get so much out of both my jobs. What's hard is slotting in social engagements, and friends, and family, and fun. (And uh, blogging.) Meeting so many new people at work who are into the same things sure helps fulfill the social side. I am dating. My friend social circle is changing a little, I'm losing people to motherhood and marriage and domestic bliss, but I'm meeting people new people all the time and getting to know them. I'm in demand, and there's almost not enough of me to go around.

It's going to be go-go-go for the next little while, but as long as I keep learning, I'm good with that. I have some entrepreneurial ideas, and I won't be working this many hours forever. I feel things falling into place. A good place.

I am not a workaholic.

Online Dating So Far: Meh.

2010-09-11T09:36:00.005-04:00

After a couple months in the online dating scene, here's a shortlist of what most men on online are looking for, from what I can surmise.

No baggage: I object to this. If you've been in a relationship before, you have baggage. If you've ever said goodbye to a relationship, or someone's ever said goodbye to a relationship with you, you have baggage. If you've had ups and downs in your life, you have baggage. And sorry, but that's all of us. Our past experiences shape who we are today. What we go through keeps us learning, and ultimately makes us stronger. We all have baggage.

Takes care of herself: This is murky. It could mean, eats well, stays relatively in shape, is not an alcoholic or a drug addict, lives in a clean environment, does these things independently. Or it could mean, always looks immaculate, maintains fresh manicures, never wears anything wrinkled, gets her hair done twice a month, does yoga, and thai-boxing, and is a gym junkie, and always presents her best side. To what standard are they speaking? Ambiguous.

Self-confidence: I'm the first to admit I'm not always sure of myself. I know that I'm smart, I'm kind, I'm funny, and that I have a lot to offer. But sometimes - gasp - I doubt myself. I don't live in a world of crippling fear and self-doubt or anything, but if I didn't doubt myself at times, I think I'd be an ego-maniac. Which I am not. I would describe myself as definitely self-confident in some capacities and definitely lacking in self confidence in others. Which I thought made me balanced, but which I guess makes me an unsuitable companion for the majority of men out there. Damn it - why do I have to be so honest with myself?

Adventurous: Men on online dating sites all seem to be into extreme sports - or so they say. They go rock climbing, they kayak through rapids, they skydive, they fly planes. Do they want women who will do these things with them? Are they lying because they think it will make them more attractive? Because really, that many people are into extreme sports? Or are extreme sport people just more likely to be single? These men's profiles typically feature carefully selected and carefully posed photos of them on their motorcycles, which of course, highlights just how adventurous they are.

So, Internet? I guess I'm doomed. I've got baggage. I doubt myself about certain things. While I'm not, for example, a junkie, I have never owned a gym membership in my life, I keep my fingernails short and naked for work, I spend most of my life in jeans, and for fun, I pick watching live music over jumping out of airplanes. And this is why I delete 90% of the correspondence I get from men on online dating sites. Meh.

Food, Inc : You should really watch this.

2010-09-06T20:58:00.006-04:00

Know what you're eating. Know where it comes from. Know what it costs, and not just to you at the supermarket - to the farmers, to the animals, to the planet, and to your health and well-being. Watch this movie, now, and then tell someone else to. (Please?)

Money, and why I would like to have more of it.

2010-08-29T08:25:00.009-04:00

Things I would spend money on if I were rich, in no particular order:

Get a stem cell transplant for Siroons. Siris has really bad arthritis. When she was about six, I found out she had really bad elbows – she had surgery on one, which slowed the development of the inevitable osteoarthritis and degenerative joint disease, but at nearly twelve, she’s pretty sore. As a result, she’s on an NSAID daily for life, and even with taking these, and taking glucosamine supplements, she is still lame on her front right leg. She’ll have days where her elbows are hugely swollen and where she needs to be carried down stairs. She moans and groans when she lies down and gets up. And it breaks my heart. She’s still active, she still wants to run around like a lunatic, but sometimes her body won’t let her, and her leg gives out on her. On these days, she trips mid run. She has trouble getting in and out of cars. If I could afford it, I would try anything so she could be pain-free and fully mobile again, and the idea of a stem-cell transplant appeals to the veterinary nerd in me.

Go on more volunt-ouring trips. I would go back to Uganda to visit everyone I met there. I wanna hang out Central and South America, maybe helping in schools. I would love, love, love to volunteer on a behavioural research project and work with gorillas or chimpanzees. Oh, the adventures I could have. How much I could see and learn and immerse myself in, if I didn't have bills to pay.

Pay my parents back my school debt. Because owing my parents money sucks, and I don’t like the strings-attached feeling of it, even (especially?) when I don’t know what the strings are.

Ramp up the investing. Yeah, cause I’m sensible like that. I would hire one of those mysterious financial planners I hear so much about , and do all the things I’m supposed to have done by now. Like make sure I have a decent investment portfolio, that would set me up for retirement and make sure I have any emergencies covered, and blah blah blah. I would see that I’m contributing more than a measly $50 a month to an RRSP. And then I’d relish watching my savings grow, and feel secure in my financial future.

Buy a house in downtown Toronto with a basement apartment and an upper level one too, and a nice backyard. My little brother could live in one of the apartments and I could rent out the other one, which would hopefully cover my property taxes and homeowner expenses. I would have little patio parties in the yard, I would grill veggie kebabs and roast corn on the BBQ. I would have a sweet little garden.

Rent a downtown space and open a business. I would set up an all in one doggie daycare, training centre, pet supply store, and grooming salon. I’d do training classes at night, and have a store in the front/day care in the back during the days. I’d hire a bunch of dog nerds, equally giddy about obscure dog breeds and new dog training tools and philosophies. We’d be the best place to work and the best place to bring your pooch. A portion of our proceeds would be donated to worthy animal shelters and rescues, and we would always have a resident foster dog. It would be magical.

Own a car. Nothing fancy, but wheels to get me from A to B. No more slumming it on public transit. It would make my grocery shopping easier, I could lug around pet related items like giant bags of dog food and kitty litter, agility equipment, etc. I could take off for a weekend if I felt like it, and just drive to wherever, because I felt like it.

Get laser hair removal. What? Okay, yeah, it’s a bit superficial, but I would treat myself. I hate shaving. (Waxing? Is also annoying.) If I never had to do either again, and I could have silky smooth skin that lasts forever with no effort, well, that would be fabulous.

Treat myself to whole new wardrobe. Again, this is a superficial one. But I’d love to buy whatever clothes I wanted to, whenever, regardless of price. Yay, fashion!

Employ a life coach. But not an annoying new-agey one, and there seem to be a lot of those. Just someone who I could bounce shit off and who would tell me if I was being an idiot, and who would pump me up when I need it, and help me put things in perspective. What about my friends, you say? They’re great, but they rarely call me out when I’m being an idiot. And while I was at it I would also hire a personal trainer, and a nutritionist.

Support people who are doing good things. I’d give a ton of cash to people and organizations who are doing great things. Invisible Children. Toronto Cat Rescue. Bullies in Need. Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. Doctors Without Borders. African Child in Need. Plus, probably a ton more. Then, I’d start up a not-for-profit organization myself. And I would buy all my art from local artists and all my food locally grown, no matter what the cost.

Of course, this is a very partial list, but a good example for now. It's a bit random and all over the place - yes, I know that some items on this list would be achievable with me making (just) double or triple my salary, while others would require me to actually win the lottery, but you get the idea.

Money shouldn’t mean much, but damn if it can’t be a colossal barrier sometimes. Sigh.

What would *you* do if you had a crapload of cash?

That Day in Amsterdam

2010-08-15T12:06:00.009-04:00

A couple of years ago now, on my way home from Kampala, I had the most wonderful day. The kind of day where time stands still, where nothing matters, where everything is sunshine and warmth and goodness.

It was an eight hour layover in Amsterdam. After spending two weeks exploring Uganda, after having my mind blown by the generosity of people and my heart broken by poverty and desperation, after seeing the effects of AIDS, of war, after two weeks of living in a strange hostel, of getting to know co-workers, of learning the Ugandan culture, and realizing, really realizing just how lucky I am, I was on my way back home, but not quite there yet.

Our big group of fourteen dispersed at the end of our time in Uganda. Some of my trip mates (the rich ones!) flew to Tanzania for a safari. Some flew back to their homes in Montreal, in Chicago, in New York. A couple went on to Kenya to do some more volun-touring. And so, it was just Eric and Jenn and I and eight hours in glorious Amsterdam. Eric and Jenn, who I barely knew before this trip, but who had experienced so much with me over the previous two weeks. Who were now my friends. We were jet-lagged and culture shocked. None of us had had much alone time in fourteen days. We were coming off a surreal adventure. We were only a day away from our homes, our beds, our friends, our families - but we were still thousands of miles away.

We landed in the early hours of the morning. In the airport, we exchanged money for Euros. We boarded the first train to downtown where we watched the sunrise on a 24 hour café patio. We ordered the greasiest breakfast ever – a welcome treat after subsiding on basically rice, beans and plantains for the last several meals. It was a Saturday morning, and the narrow cobbled streets were littered with flyers, cigarette butts, evidence of night’s debauchery. It being 7 am, they were empty. We watched the street cleaning crews sucking everything up, making everything pretty for when the people wake up and want to go for a stroll. I remembered from my last visit, how clean and green the city was, and now I know it is all thanks to the early morning city workers, who work quickly, quietly, diligently to clear the streets of all that grossness.

Nothing was open yet. We walked around by the canals, and watched the city slowly wake up. Everything was so peaceful. Amsterdam belonged to us.

The first coffee shop that we found that was open was calling to us. We’d all been to this city before but we’d forgotten how it works – ordering up marijuana from a menu, we didn’t know what we wanted, we just knew we wanted a joint.

“You order.”

“No, YOU order.”

“No, YOU.”

Finally someone did, I don’t remember who. With our tiny green stash in hand, we walked across the city. Destination: Vondelpark, which I now know to be one of the prettiest, happiest places in the world.

It was maybe 10 am by the time we picked out a spot, by the water, under a large tree. Our feet hurt from all the walking. We plunked ourselves down. We’d stocked up on snacks. We fired up our first Amsterdam joint. We didn’t have to be back at the airport till four.

The three of us basked in the park. We made friends with dogs who were out on their morning walks, and we chatted with their people. (How old? What breed? So cute!) We thought about our own dogs at home and how much they’d love it here. We watched the dynamics of little dogs playing with bigger dogs, shy dogs meeting boisterous dogs. We smiled and nodded at joggers. We waved at bicycle riders. We spied on couples having picnics. We ate candy, in the morning. Tourists asked us for directions – which way out of the park? We had no idea.

We retrieved fly away Frisbees and returned them to their rightful owners. There were ducks in the water. We watched them paddle around, take off briefly, and then return. We laughed together, about so many things. Silly things, stupid things I don’t even remember, but what I do remember is feeling my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. We observed everything, even colonies of ants in the grass we were sitting in, and making up stories about each member, Eric adding on to Jenn’s contribution, me adding to Eric’s, the stories getting progressively more ridiculous as they went on.

Our senses heightened, we took in the sounds of the park, bird calls, water rippling, dogs barking, Dutch accents, bicycle spokes. We lied back in the grass with our eyes closed, feeling the sun on our faces. It was magical. We did this all day. A few times we convinced ourselves we should explore the park, and we got lost a few times, did a couple of circles without knowing it until landmarks looked familiar, realizing we’d past them before. We gave up our exploratory mission in favour of another sunny out of the way corner to talk, laugh, read, and take everything in. We tried not to think about how weird it would be to go home, to explain our last two weeks to our friends and families, how we would be back to work, back to normal routines. Because for now, we were here, happily stoned in Vondelpark, amongst the green grass and the sunshine, and loving every minute.

Nobody wanted the day to end. We contemplated changing our airline tickets and staying another day to do the same thing again the next, but in the end were too lazy to look into the costs, to wait in lines, to deal with customer service agents, to book hotels, to take all the steps needed to accomplish this. Still, we procrastinated on heading back to the airport, waiting til the last minute, getting lost once again on our way out of the park, after begrudgingly, we flagged down a cab and began the journey back to our real lives. The perfect end to a most amazing journey, and a day that I’ll never in my life forget...

Vondelpark will cast a spell on you -- go!

Smiliest Dog Ever.

2010-07-16T22:06:00.007-04:00

I was just looking through some old photos and stumbled upon one of my favourite shots of Siris. It was taken enroute to a week long cottage vacation, and she was pretty happy to be on a car ride to somewhere fun. I love this photo!

The Coach Phenomenon

2010-07-09T20:44:00.004-04:00

I’m talking about Coach handbags, people. It’s like I blinked and they’ve suddenly become the number one status symbol of women 17 to 60. This is kind of disturbing. It’s like I need to own a Coach handbag to be anyone. The average woman in this city seems to have one, if not more, and the more, the better from what I’m seeing. I can’t tell you how many crowded subway rides I’ve been on with some woman’s Coach purse jutting into me, or right in my face if I’m sitting down and they’re standing. Coach, Coach, Coach. And this is on the subway, slummin' it with the common people. Heh.

Now, it’s not that I don’t like a decent plain Coach handbag. Some of them, the more subtle ones, are quite lovely. Their pricetag ain’t so lovely, though. Who spends that much money on a handbag? And the ones I like are the plainish classy looking ones. The majority of them aren’t even that great – they just have those little Coach “C”s all over them so that everyone who sees you knows you have a Coach purse. So that… , so that…, ….so that what exactly? Who knows, I don’t get it. I don’t own any Coach handbags.

I remember the fads of elementary school and high school (Vuarnet, anyone? Cotton Ginny?) and I guess I thought these things – fashion and accessorizing etc – would make a lot less of a difference as I got older. And here I am in, in my thirties, feeling like I’m a freak for not owning a single Coach handbag, and not having this Tiffany jewelry piece – either in the bracelet OR necklance variety. (Which, really? Why beg your boyfriend to buy for you the exact same piece that thousands of other women got their boyfriends/fiancés/husbands to buy them? Where is the special-ness in that?) Add to this not owning a single Lululemon hoodie or pair of yoga shorts. And not taking yoga to begin with.

The times they are a-changin’. And they have their new current crazes to get caught up on. Sigh. As always, I seem to be a little bit off the mark, and don't think I'll bother catching up.

Plus None

2010-06-27T08:19:00.004-04:00

An old friend is getting married this summer, and I couldn't be happier for her. Like me, she's had a history of making bad relationship decisions. I've known this friend since we were kids, so we've been privy to each other's entire dating lives. I've met a number of her exes and watched her live and learn, tweaking what's she's looking for, adjusting her own attitude towards dating and relationships, about what's really important, and who might truly make her happy. And it worked for her!

She found her fiance online. They met a couple of years ago... they moved in, they got a dog, they took trips together... they're still so happy. They're saying "I Do" next month. The wedding is going to be pretty low-key - they're doing a tiny private ceremony at City Hall, and then hosting guests at their reception downtown - the standard dinner, drinks, DJ and dancing.

Now, this old friend is someone I've kept up with since grade six, albeit kind of in a vaccuum. It's not like there are a bunch of us from grade six that are still friends. It's sort of just her and I. We meet for drinks, or brunch, or to walk the dogs, just the two of us. We talk about our lives, share our stories, discuss current events, vent about our frustrations together. Or I go over to her condo and hang out with her and her man. We have our core values in common, but we've gone in different directions in life since those elementary school days for sure. She has a group full of girlfriends who kind of remind me of the ladies of Sex and the City. They wear heels, and lots of make up. They regularly visit the spa, they always have fresh manicures, they go out dancing or to fancy lounges, they drink martinis. Whereas, I'm pretty low maintenance, I avoid the club district like the plague, I like to drink beers with my friends in tiny dive bars where there is live music. I think banjos and mandolins are pretty cool. I like bluegrass and some old school country music. And the thing is, I think she likes my low keyness. She likes that we're different, that she can meet me with her hair in a pony tail and wearing the jeans she wore yesterday and not feel judged. I'm a break from everything, I think. And I'm happy to be that for her.

Today is the wedding shower, and in a couple of weeks, the bachelorette. I've met some of her friends over the years, but don't really know them. Showers and bachelorettes are always a little awkward - a bunch of women thrown together to celebrate the bride-to-be. I guess that's why all the silly games and traditions - to keep people engaged, interacting together, to keep it inclusive.

And here's hoping I find some people to bond with. Because my wedding invite arrived in the mail this week, and it looks like it's just me that will be attending this wedding reception shindig. No plus one.

Now, I know I don't have a boyfriend to speak of, but I had been counting on bringing one of my many male pals. At least to have someone to sit beside me, to bail me out of those times where the dance floor is packed and I'm sitting on the sidelines, downing a drink. Sigh. I know nothing about wedding etiquette, I'll admit, so maybe this is par for the course. But I won't know anyone at this wedding except for the bride and groom, the bride's family, and everyone I'll meet at the shower and bachelorette. Is this weird? Will I be stuck at some lame-ass singles table with the widow-aunts and uncles? Gulp.

I once went to a wedding with an ex-boyfriend where he was the Best Man. An old high school friend of his was getting hitched, so my ex sat next to him at the head table, while I was left to fend for myself all night at a table of random strangers. Awkward.

I'm thinking I should talk to my friend, the bride to be. Maybe this was an oversight? Maybe if I offer to pay for his plate, she'll let me bring a date? Maybe?

Slanted and Enchanted

2010-06-20T09:48:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I went to see one of my most favourite bands from my indie-rock days, Pavement, on their reunion tour. Back in my university days, I worshipped these guys. I still own all the records, the imports, the EPs, right down to 7" singles. I hold with me memories of going to see them in small clubs in the 1990s, of following their side projects, of reviewing their releases in my crapola little 'zine that I would cut and paste and copy and snail mail out on request. Heh. I was a total indie rock dork, yes. And I probably still would be if I didn't have to put in so much effort into staying on top of new music. Things like life, and work, and paying the bills get in the way.

So, Pavement announced last year they were going to regroup and do this reunion tour. Which made me pretty damn ecstatic. A friend and I scooped up tickets and commenced the countdown, immediately. They were playing as part of a huge festival type thing, with a few bands that seemed promising and a lot of others who were pretty hipster-ey and next-big-thing or current-big-thing-that-I-have-no-idea-about. I was working anyways, so had to miss almost the whole day of music festivities. We arrived about five minutes prior to Pavement taking the stage, which was a-okay with me. Pavement was the important part.

Well, the sound was kind of crap, and the boys of Pavement were a little sloppy but Internet? I didn't care. I think I knew all the words to every single song they played. Even though I hadn't listened to them in years, everything came back. Every intro, every guitar solo, every chorus, every clever lyric they've ever written. And I wasn't the only one. I was surrounded by people who adored this band at the same time as I did, and with the same degree of passion.

What was strange though, was that this was fifteen years later. We were in our thirties. Every third woman seemed to be pregnant. There were kids running around, Pavement fans' children, who came along for the day. Everyone was sporting wedding rings. I ran into an old co-worker of mine who whipped out her IPhone and started showing me pictures of the baby girl she'd had six months ago. What was up with me, she asked, after blabbing on about her husband, her little girl, how fabulous maternity leave was. Well, I just graduated from college. I'm making $30,000/year less than I was the last time she saw me, and by choice. I'm working at an animal hospital and an obedience school. I'm not with my ex (who she knew also) anymore. Uhhh, yeah. She smiled and asked how Siris was doing. So I was happy, so things were good? she asked. Things are so good, I said, and smiled. After that it was a little awkward - I think she wanted to understand, but I don't think she did. It was clear that I had no babies to bond with her over. I had no flashy web-enabled mobile phone to whip out to show her. I was glad to run into her, and I ooohed and ahhed over her adorable little girl, and I meant all the nice stuff I said. But I couldn't help but feel a bit removed, and I have had this exchange many times over the last few years, running into people I've known over the last ten years of my life. It is always clear: I am on a different path than you. I don't fit in anymore. I am single and in my thirties and I am doing my own thing.

Pavement themselves, on stage, so many metres away and obscured by flashy lights and smoke machines, looked the same to me. I was way too far away to spot any grey hairs, any beer bellies. I like to think they hadn't aged. But we all had. And I felt a bit...old. Because also present at the show, were today's generation of music dorks - probably there to see the it bands of the day, but taking in and appreciating my beloved Pavement for the genius they were in their heyday. Skinny jeans abound. I'm not sure where I fit anymore, Internet, but I bet there are tons of us out there, feeling this. Let's meet up at a Superchunk show, when it happens.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or not.

2010-06-11T08:13:00.000-04:00

This is a post about distance, and by this I guess I mean the physical distance between a person and a destination.

I consider myself a commuting expert, after my two years going to school in a township one and a half hours away from where I live, not to mention working a job in another municipality. And sans wheels, I am a public transit champion. Toronto doesn't have the best public transit system, for sure, but you can get around from A to B, with a little effort.

During my school days, I moved north from downtown to the area known as "mid-town." It cut my commute to school from 2 hours one way to 1.5 hours one way and was purely a move of convenience. I am right on the subway line and can get downtown usually in less than half an hour. The plan is to move back downtown once I get past my three months probation at the new job. But for now - living here is isolating as hell.

Home is where I sleep, walk the dog, and store my crap. For everything else, I'm required to travel. My baseball team plays in a park that's an hour commute. My clinic is about a thirty minute commute; obedience school is forty five. For the next four weeks, I'll be teaching the dog part of Fetching, a bootcamp exercise program for dogs and owners which Ola's launching with a personal trainer friend - that's in the Beaches, an hour commute. Between two jobs, baseball and this temporary fill in gig at Fetching, I'm booked Monday to Thursdays, morning to night.

And on the weekends I've got to, yes, head downtown again, if I want to see anyone. Which, I love downtown. I do. But sometimes...sometimes it's not about where you're going, it's about the person or people that will be there. The backdrop can change, but you're still having meaningful conversation over a pint. You're still catching up, you're still laughing with each other, right? Right?

Well, lately I find myself pitching an idea - meet for drinks here, go see this band here - and am met with "that's too far", or "all the way out there?", and then inevitably, "nah. I think I'll pass." Like, if the destination is not within walking or biking distance, or in the person's neighborhood, they're not interested. Am I being too sensitive that this offends me? I read into this "I just don't like spending time with you enough to sacrifice a short subway ride, or a longer walk." When for me the distance is double or triple what they'd be travelling.

So in short, the politics of distance have been getting me down. I don't always want to have to cater to everyone else. I have limited time available, to begin with. Why is everyone so fucking spoiled? I'm not even asking people to come down to my lame hood (although sometimes, admittedly, it would be nice to not have to go downtown for everything). From Queen and Bathurst to Queen and Roncy is not that far though. Or from the Annex to High Park. It's like people have developed zones - little unspoken radii - that they will not venture out of. If I want to hang with them, it needs to be on their turf. My radius is the whole damn city.

I've recently decided, fuck that. I'm too busy for that. I'm going to be more insistent, or I'm going to start making plans with people who will make the journey to where I want to be. Because I don't think I'm wrong. The physical destination should not be the point.

Also, I really need a car.

Holy crap, I'm employed!

2010-05-18T16:46:00.005-04:00

I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE FRIGGIN JOB!

They called me yesterday and I saw the number pop up on my cell phone and was too nervous to answer. I waited till it stopped ringing and watched the little envelope appear - message waiting. Gulp. Then, I nervously dialed my voicemail, my stomach doing flip-flops the whole time.

"Hi Andria? It's E. at Blah Blah Blah Animal Hospital calling. I was hoping I'd catch you, because I'm calling to offer you the job..."

She said some more stuff after that, but I didn't hear anything else - because I was actually cheering out loud. Then I did a little victory dance in my apartment, and took Siris out for a little walk around the block to get my wits about me. And then I calmly phoned them back to, in my most professional and calm phone voice, accept their offer.

I started my new job today! The wheels are in motion. My new life awaits- so excited!

I did it! School's out!

2010-05-14T08:14:00.011-04:00

I hung in there. I studied my ass off. I put myself so far out of my comfort zone I almost forgot where my comfort zone was to begin with. I lived the commuting-three-hours-a-day nightmare. I learned A LOT. I made friends with a bunch of twenty year olds. I even got straight As across the board in my last semester. And of course, I nearly ran myself ragged, burning the candle at both ends for two years straight - trying to work two part time jobs, excel at school, still have some semblance of a social life, not to mention give my own pets the time of day. But I did it! I'm a Veterinary Technician! Finally!

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not the braggy type, but I'm so fucking proud of myself, that I'm going to make an exception here. Yay me!

(Obviously, I've neglected the old blog. Boourns. Sorry about that. But did I mention I'm a Veterinary Technician?)

So right now I'm in full-on job search mode. I went to my first working interview this week, which was more than a little terrifying. A chat where I met the hiring manager and had to sell myself to the extreme. A tour of the clinic. Walking from room to room, trying to win over the various staff members I was introduced to one after the other. Being asked to demonstrate skills on various animals as I passed through. Take blood from this dog. Place an IV catheter in this one. With many eyes watching. No pressure. Not to mention some of these skills I've only had the opportunity to do a handful of times. Nope, not nerve racking at all. Heh. Well, I survived it, and I even think I did pretty well. It's a big hospital with a big team, and if I don't get the job, I won't be heartbroken, because just getting through that and not having a major anxiety attack or screwing up ridiculously is an accomplishment worth celebrating, for me. (But... if I do get it I think I might cheer out loud!)

Once I get full time work, I can finally quit my job at the other clinic, which I've been fantasizing about for a while now. I've still got the national Veterinary Technician registration exam to study for in July, so that I can get those lovely RVT initials after my name and the insurance, prestige, and $ that go along with it.

In a couple of months, I'm getting my own dog obedience classes to teach, finally, which I'm *so* excited about after years of being "just an assistant". I can think about moving back downtown once I'm more settled with work, and the prospect of a new apartment and a new neighbourhood make me super happy.

And, I'm going to join a baseball team! And I have time to see my friends again. And maybe start dating, even. I have my life back, and I'm so excited about what's next.

A little school nostalgia for you. Here's me (note the sexy coveralls!) with a cuddly little lamb born at the Seneca barn this spring:

Here's Moondrop and her new foal Cali - who is 3 days old in this picture!

And here's a short video of the Seneca flock... who are eager to eat some yummy grain which we were shaking around in bowls to entice them to run.

I'm actually missing the barn already. Weird.

On Being Watched...

2010-02-27T21:50:00.006-05:00

The clinic that I work at is a small clinic. It's quiet a lot of the time, and we get these weird walk in, emergency type clients that we see once because their regular vet is closed and then never see again. We have a small group of eccentric regulars. But if it's quiet and there are no in-patients for me to tend to, I do busy work, like cleaning and restocking, making surgery packs, and hanging out with the boarding animals. A lot of the time the doctor will run off to do some errands and it will just be me in the clinic, listening to Q107.

And the doctor has cameras. Set up all over the clinic. Technically he's 24 hours so he SHOULD have a camera set up in the treatment area where there might be sick dogs and cats to watch. But he has taken it a step further. He's camera-fied the entire clinic so that he can spy on his employees. I'll let out a dog to run around in the clinic and get some exercise and then leash it up if it's harrassing the clinic cat. One day when I did that my cell phone instantly rang. It was the doctor. Telling me not to leash the dog up, to let him run free, all of two seconds after I'd leashed the dog up. He was watching me. Creepy.

...And I bet he does it a lot too. It's probably like Facebook to him. Let me just go and check in with what's happening at the clinic! I bet he compulsively checks it - just to see if anyone's doing anyone interesting, if anyone's ripping him off, if anyone's doing anything that they should be fired for. To maintain absolute control.

There is a no cell phone policy in the clinic ("This rule will be enforced!" reads a passive aggressive note in the staff area), so I have to send out my text messages from the washroom, where there's no camera.

So, knowing I'm being watched, I manipulate it. I show my best worker bee to the cameras - look how conscientous I am! Always so busy! Always finding ways to make us look better and be more efficient! Plus, I show the lens my goofy side, me playing with the boarding dogs, or cuddling with Princess, the one eyed, totally obese cat who lives there. Alone in an empty vet clinic, I dance around to classic rock, and sing along, while I'm sweeping and mopping. The doctor has never asked me about it, but I know he knows.

No, that still sucks. Cameras at work suck. A lot.

Senor Snuggles

2010-02-15T21:39:00.008-05:00

My cat Senor Snuggles has this hilarious personality. He loooves him some attention, but it's gotta be on his terms. Or he might get a little frisky with his claws. He wants the love, but he selects the time. I am at his beck and call.

We're giving him a dental cleaning at school in a week or so, so he's having to do some travelling. He hates travelling. We went to the vet this week so he could be brought up to date on vaccines. The vet that is a five minute walk from my doorstep. He manages to take his characteristic I'm-in-my-carrier-fuck-you shit in that five minutes. When we brought him out to the exam table, he actually peed on the table. Yeah. I was mortified. Poor Snuggles. He's coming to school with me on Wednesday for his work up - blood collection, x-rays, etc. I'm kind of terrified for him, and for me.

He acts like he doesn't care that he lives here, that he loves me and Siris. And then whenever I pull him out of that environment, he can't handle it. But he's gonna have some nice clean teeth as a result, and I'll save money on potential extractions and complications later. So it's for his own good. And he's always super sucky when I get him back home.

(photo is courtesy of my dogwalker, Kim.)

It's official: I suck at New Years resolutions.

2010-01-31T08:33:00.005-05:00

Four entries per month - ha! So instead, I managed one, and barely. Somehow I thought this might happen. Better luck in February. Don’t people usually start out strong and then peter out? Not this girl! Why start out strong, even? Heh.

In my defense, I tried. I did write a long and boring entry about girl-drama in the Vet Tech program at Seneca. It was an intricate tale involving me being accused of being a microscope thief because I sat at a different lab station on the first day of fourth semester than I had all third semester, in one of my classes. (Yes, really! What nerve, I know!) It detailed the aftermath of this grave offense. But I ended up deleting this post because a) in retrospect, it just wasn’t very interesting and b) the earthquake in Haiti happened shortly after the post went up – which made it seem all the more stupid and irrelevant. When bad things happen in the world, I have a hard time writing about myself. And I have a hard time when bad things happen in the world, period. My heart feels heavy and I am glued to news programs about it, and my eyes well up when looking at photos in the Metro on public transit, and I feel helpless and insignificant when I imagine devastation on such a grand scale as what happened there. Poor Haiti. I still can’t stop thinking about it.

In my little life, things are marching forward. I started my once a week co-op at a downtown animal hospital, which is one less day a week that I have to trek out to King City. I’m on placement once a week until the end of April, and it’s a busy four-veterinarian practice so I’m learning lots. At school, it’s the semester-of-truth, where everything we’ve learned so far all comes together and we’re actually in real surgeries. It’s exciting, and interesting, and intimidating as hell. Last week, I was the Anesthetist for a cat neuter surgery. I placed my first catheter, hooked up the anesthetic circuit, delivered the IV fluids, and did all the monitoring. All this while commanding my hands not to shake and remembering to breathe. At some point in the next few months, I’m going to get to actually do the neuter surgery (aka the cutting off of the cat’s balls) myself! The day before my anesthetist debut, another group at school lost a cat on the table during their scheduled surgery due to embolism. The stakes are high. It’s scary stuff. This is what I signed up for though. I know what I’m doing, I’m just not confident yet. And that comes with practice. Animals know when you’re not confident though, so I’m gonna have to try to fake it til I make it, for now.

What else in January? I went on my first date in forever, and in a shocking-Andria-twist, it involved no alcohol. Of course, I have no business going on dates period, because I’m too damned busy to fit in a relationship of any kind, but this was before school started, so I did it anyway. Meh. He was intelligent at least, but our chemistry was better over e-mail and text messages. We lamely tried to get it together for a second date, but by then school had started, my schedule had become insane, and I don't think his ego could handle "my only window this week is here". I think we’re both glad. I am, anyway. Something was not right, no use trying to force it. And I’m going back to bar dates, or dinner and wine dates, for a little while -they’re more fun. If I can ever find anyone worth having a drink with. When you have all the time in the world, you don’t have to be so picky. When your life is as crazy as mine is, slotting in dates eats up time I could be spending with my friends. Who I already hardly ever see because I’m so busy with school and work. So I need to be picky, or so I tell myself. Otherwise, bad dates = wasted friend time.

Also in January – lots of friend counseling through love problems, and the head cold from hell! Oh, and Siris found love with a chubby young English Bulldog named Angus who just moved into our building! I have honestly never seen her so jazzed about another dog. She does her wiggly dance for him every time she sees him, and he thinks she’s pretty grand too.

Last, it’s looking like all the colleges in Ontario are going to go on strike sometime really soon. That’s 24 colleges in Ontario, including mine. Which is going to free up a lot more Andria-time (and cost me a lot more money, and probably extend my semester at least a month.) I’m trying not to think about it though, because I’ve got zero control over the outcome, and who knows, there’s still a chance a deal could be struck at the last moment.

But if my school’s on strike and I still don’t hit my four posts a month goal, then man, I really suck.

Sayonara 2009

2009-12-31T16:31:00.008-05:00

Well, I'll admit that I didn't love 2009. It was kind of a transition year. A year of ironing out a lot of my own kinks and a year of supporting a lot of friends as they ironed out theirs. A year of learning, in many ways. In life, at school. A year of getting wiser and more self-aware.

What I did this year:

I said goodbye to a relationship that wasn't working.
I moved, again.
I started working at a vet clinic; I assisted in my first surgery and my first euthanasia, and I didn't faint or bawl my eyes out (in front of anyone.)
I quit smoking (for good, this time.)
I strengthened friendships with a few key special people.
I volunteered more time than I ever have in a year.

What I didn't do this year:

Get away anywhere. I mean, I didn't go anywhere! Not even a cottage. I miss travelling. I miss that feeling of seeing something new and amazing for the first time.
Spend enough time with people I care about. School has sort of monopolized my life, and I've definitely been missing the face time with my friends. And while there have been lots of heart to hearts over the phone, and way more lengthy emails to friends than in previous years, it isn't the same. I miss the connection that comes from a face to face interaction with someone who I get and who gets me.

So I guess it's time for some goals for 2010. Resolutions if you will. Things I want to accomplish in the coming year, and maybe if I write them down they will be more real and then next year I can come back to this list and say "check!...check!...check!" and then create some more goals. Here's hoping.

Stuff I want in 2010:

To travel somewhere I haven't been before. Hopefully out of the country, if possible.
To meet my partner in crime. Uh, life, that is. Meet someone who makes me happy, who challenges me, who keeps me honest, who encourages and supports. And who lets me do that for him. And no settling! And definitely no letting anyone treat me poorly.
To write more. Four blog entries per month, minimum. Gulp. It's here in writing, so now it has to happen.
To unload some relationships that cause me more stress than happiness - and to put more effort into those that truly make me happy. And to put me first a lot more than I have in the past.
To pass the RVT registration exam in June, and find a clinic where I'll be happy and keep learning.
To start some sort of side business to help supplement the old bank account - crafting, dog training, dog walking, writing, whatever that may be.
To end 2010 living back downtown somewhere within walking distance to all the stuff I love, including my job.

Too much? Probably. But it's a good list, and I've always been the ambitious type. If I get halfway there I'll be in good shape. I've got a good feeling about 2010. A shift is coming.

Happy New Year, blogosphere!

The dog days of Christmas

2009-12-26T10:36:00.012-05:00

Seasons greetings, kids! Exams are behind me and I've been enjoying some well deserved down-time. (I kicked some serious ass in terms of marks at school, by the way. And I don't even have to repeat that lab exam, meaning, I DO know what I'm doing in terms of reading crazy blood and urine slides.) I've had time to clean my apartment. I've baked more batches of chocolate chip shortbread than I ever thought possible. I visited my parents at their swanky new house. I've been going out to see live music. I've been eating and drinking with friends. (All this stuff I never had time for before!) And I've also turned my teeny apartment in a doggie day care, kind of. Okay, well, not really, but I've been entertaining canine houseguests for the last couple of weeks.

It started with doing a favour for a friend of mine going out of a town for the weekend. I offered to watch her 9 month old pup, Charlie the Havanese. So Charlie and Siris wrestled all weekend, and Siris was very patient with him, and Senor Snuggles taught him all about how cats are always in charge. But he came with pee pads. Ugh. I had assumed that a 9 month old would be housetrained by now, but I had forgotten that in our condominium culture, some people consider pee-pad training to equivalent to housetraining. Charlie's people are just happy he goes on the pads, and not their carpet. Not for me, but yeah. Anyway, when it was time for Charlie to go back home, along came Rafi the Chihuahua.

Rafi is one of Ola's foster dogs, and Ola's home/dog boarding business was packed with holiday visitors (I believe 17 dogs was her total IN HER HOUSE) - so in order for Ola to have one less dog to deal with, Rafi came to stay with us. While I am not a fan of Chihuahuas in general, I'm definitely a fan of this one. Rafi was an aggressive case but has been reformed by months of living at Ola's. He's quite possibly the snuggliest dog I've ever met, even going so far as to sleep under the covers with me, curled up beside me. He's a chill little guy, not yappy for a Chihuahua, and much more Siris's speed, thankfully. He accompanied us to Christmas at my parents, much to their chagrin and won over my skeptical brothers. I'll be sad to give him back.

I'm trading him in for a Bichon. Yep, one of Ola's regular clients called her last minute and she was full, so I'm getting Snowy this afternoon, till early in the new year. He's apparently a delight, very easy and well behaved. Looking forward to meeting him. So, never a dull moment at my place this holiday season. To clarify, I am getting paid for these dog boarding gigs. When you already have to walk one dog three times a day, adding another ain't a big deal. It's been an enjoyable and cuddly way to make a few extra bucks while I'm off school.

In other dog related holiday-ness, Siris loved the velvety tree skirt at my parents' place so much that she thought she'd circle and circle and circle and eventually make it her bed. Except that in doing so, she nearly knocked down the whole tree, causing my mom to screech and scream, my dad to panic because of my mom's screeching and screaming, and leaving my brother and I to try to actually do something about the situation. Straight out of the Marley and Me outtakes! I caught the tree mid-fall and held it upright again. I think maybe two ornaments fell off. The non breakable kind, so we just put them right back up. Keith tightened the tree back into the cheap little tree stand it was in. The crisis was averted. But seeing the dogs freak out at my mom's total frenzy, I may have snapped at her to please calm down. She may have screamed at me even louder that she was NOT GOING TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN! Oh yes. Fun times on Christmas Eve. Poor Siris was in the doghouse with my mother after that. And me too, by extension.

But, we all ate good food, and drank good wine. I got to see my brothers. My parents' swanky new house is intact, and there is no permanent dog-related damage. I got some good gifts and I got to give some good gifts. So generally, another Christmas success. It wouldn't be Christmas (or even just a trip home) if Siris didn't piss off my mother in some capacity.

Stress, stuff that makes it better, and my crazy life continued...

2009-12-05T08:09:00.007-05:00

This blog has been quiet, because I have been "laser focused" (ha, ha, that's a gem from my old days in the corporate world) on school. When I'm not at school, I'm either going there or coming back from there, or sitting in my apartment making flashcards and memorizing something super nerdy and science-y. Like how long it takes for Propofol to kick in, and how it's administered, and whether or not you can top it off. (30-60 seconds, IV via catheter, and yes.. yes you can.) Or how you can tell the difference between a reactive lymphocyte and a prorubricyte, should you be looking through a microscope at a blood smear which includes both. Or what antibiotics are unsuitable to give to rabbits. And other fun stuff.

So, basically, my program has stolen my life, and I've become a total recluse. Two weeks ago, I was out the door at 6 am to be at school bright and early to do exams on all of our group animals and report the results to the vets in rounds. The weekend after that, I was at school for twelve hours each day in the kennels and in the barns, taking care of all our school animals. Last week, I was out the door at 5 am to be at school to supervise the first year students as they did their kennel and barn duties. And, in between, I was studying and reviewing while drinking umpteen cups of coffee and trying to get my anxiety in check, because last week I also sat four practical evaluations.

Random stuff that I had to do that will determine my promotability in the program:

Put together an anesthetic circuit based on a random scenario given to me, and answer a ton of questions about drugs, duration of action, planes of anesthesia, safety, and patient monitoring in a nerve-racking 15 minute oral exam.
Pull a team and a scenario out of a hat and work together to on a particular radiograph, position the patient correctly, manually develop correctly, and answer a series of questions about small animal x-ray studies and anatomy.
Read a bunch of urine and blood slides within a certain margin of accuracy and a certain timeframe, identifying a bunch of hard to identify cells for our intimidating as hell Clinical Pathology professor who doesn't tell you if you got them right or not, and mostly just says "Hmmmm. ok..." and scribbles stuff down in her notes, rattling your confidence further.
Do a subcutaneous injection on a guinea pig, give an oral dose to a hamster, and hold a rat in the iron grip medical restraint for an intra-peritoneal injection. These were all randomly pulled out of a hat too. I could have picked a mouse or a rabbit, and various other weird lab animal science skills.

I was mostly too exhausted to be as nervous and anxiety-ridden as I usually would have in these scenarios. And most went well, except for the blood and urine slide reading, which I strongly suspect I fucked up, and will be spending some extra time with the teacher on over the holidays. Which, hopefully they let me. I've been kicking ass in the theory portion of her class and usually do well when I'm not panicking in a timed laboratory examination, so here's hoping that counts for special consideration.

And, I am really proud of myself, no matter what the results. Because I am doing it. I am getting it done. I am working hard, and I am out of my comfort zone, and I am four months away from finishing. And it's probably the toughest thing I've ever done in my life, trying to juggle school, and studying, and two jobs, and my own pets, and pretty much doing everything independently since I live alone and don't have much help.

I changed my Facebook status during this week to indicate something about me trying to get through my week of practical evaluation hell, and got a lovely email as a result from Michael, who is one of the boys at the street kids orphanage in Kampala where I volunteered last year, asking me how my practicals were going and sending me the best. Which, honestly, made my day. My month, really. And more important made me step outside my little drama and think about how big the world is, but also how small, and how we are all connected. Facebook is good for that, I guess. Anyway, it made me stress a lot less.

The practicals are done, there's no changing the results, so next is focusing on written exams, which I think I can nail...and looking forward to almost three whole weeks off where I can reconnect with myself, my own pets, my friends, my family, and my old life.

In other news:

My parents bought a new house and are moving December 15th. They've lived at their current house since I was seven years old and have talked about moving for the past twenty years. They found their dream home about a month ago, pulled the trigger and are now in panic mode as they have to pack up and unpack in record time. Christmas will be at the new house this year. Crazy.
The Toronto Humane Society finally got busted. Tim Trow, the crazy president, and some senior management, including the head vet are charged with animal cruelty. The OSPCA is investigating. The media coverage has been totally sensational, and noone knows what the outcome is going to be.
Sue, my oldest friend and the one who knows me better than almost anyone, is pregnant and expecting in June! I'm so happy for her that I actually squealed, and then almost cried when she told me. I'll be writing my RVT licensing exam and she's going to be delivering a baby boy or girl into the world - so much to look forward to in June 2010!

And I think that's all I have time to care about for the next little while... Expect some more updates now that I have some more time.

My crazy life

2009-09-21T21:27:00.010-04:00

The long absence in blogging has been due to me being insanely busy once again. I spent most of August working 65 hours a week - when it rains it pours! I had a month long full time vet clinic gig, and am still there working Saturdays. Back to just one day a week at doggie school. And I'm a bridesmaid in a wedding that has been eating up what little free time I have. School's started again, and that means eaaaarly mornings, long commutes, lots of hitting the books, and learning at warp speed. I'm a little overwhelmed, but I will remember try to remember that yes, I have a blog, and yes, writing is fun and cathartic and not actually *that* much work.

Having said all that, because I'm exhausted today - I'm copping out with just a few pictures that describe my life as of late. These are cell phone shots, so excuse the bad quality!

Sunrise at Finch Station. I won't divulge just how early this was taken.

Out the bus window: green acres and nothingness in King City, Ontario.

Baby calves! They are so cute it's unbelievable, and they follow us around like dogs and suck on our coveralls, and we get to bottle feed them. Fun!

My group's cat Sterling, who is available for adoption and wants to go to her new home straight from school in mid-October. Spread the word. She is a sweetheart, a purr machine, and very kitten-esque in personality. Make her yours!

More to come when I'm better rested, when the wedding is over, and hopefully before reading break.

Leo

2009-08-04T23:14:00.002-04:00

Working at a dog school is the best job ever. It combines pretty much everything I love – training dogs and figuring out new ways to handle particular dogs and particular dog related problems, and human psychology: fine tuning my people skills, learning how to get through to different personalities in the most effective way. The hardest part usually isn’t the dog stuff.

Leo and his owner are my latest challenge. Leo is listed as a Bernese Mountain Dog mix, but looks like a tri-coloured retriever. He’s nine months old, hyperactive as all hell, and newly adopted by White Haired Lady, a 60 something woman with her own set of issues. Leo is a high energy guy with extremely bad manners. He exists in a constant state of overexcitement, lunging out at dogs, and bodyslamming into people. He’s good natured, but his approach to everything is throwing himself at it. He’s a big dog, and still growing. He pants, he whines, he barks, and he pretty much never relaxes.

White Haired Lady is a tough nut to crack. On her first night in class, I smelled booze on her breath. She comes solo every week – no kids or husband in tow to watch and encourage her. Maybe they exist or maybe they don’t, but they’re not there supporting her at doggie school, and I get the feeling it’s just her and Leo – if not physically, than emotionally for sure. It’s like this dog is all she has.

She clearly loves her dog, petting him constantly, telling him what a good boy he is. Anyone who knows anything about dog training, knows that petting and praising shouldn’t happen when a dog is acting up. This basically reinforces the bad behavior. The owner thinks that they’re soothing and comforting the dog, helping to calm him down, like a person would a baby or a small child. But dogs are not children. Think “I love it when you whine, Leo, keep it up!” Think “Gooood boy! That’s just greaaat that you lunged out at that little puppy – what a good boy you are!”

It also gets the dog hooked on constant affection. Leo demands it, and he and old White Hair are in a horrible loop – he acts up, she pets him and loves on him. He can’t go a few minutes without attention from White Hair. He’ll lean on her, he’ll break commands, throwing his body at the end of the leash, physically moving her and forcing her to reposition him, and then she’s praising him and giving him some love. He won’t sit still unless he’s being reassured and has her hands all over him. He’s got her wrapped around his little finger.

And of course, Leo’s lady is guilty of another dog training no-no: repeating commands. “Leo, Sit!....Leo! Sit!...SIT!....SIT!!... LEO, SIT!!!!” And as she gets more and more exasperated, Leo is having the most fun of his life, squirming around, enjoying the attention and energy he can suck out of her.

The class Leo is in is mostly full of puppies, and most of them happen to be small dogs. Leo is the largest, the most boisterous, and by far the worst behaved. On their first day, it took about thirty seconds for me to notice what was going on. Leo needed a different kind of leadership. Time to talk to old White Hair.

I calmly suggested to her she might try withholding the caresses and soothing words when her dog is going apeshit. I explained that this just conveys to the dog that she likes that kind of behavior out of him. She listened intently, nodded, and seemed to get it. “Oh really? That’s interesting. That makes sense. Ahhhhhh…. Hmmmm.” I almost saw the lightbulb going off above her head. And then, not two minutes later, she couldn’t help herself – hands all over him again. I’d gently remind her, and she’d subsequently ignore me. It got to where Leo’s thrashing and whining and lunging was completely disruptive to the other dogs in the class. You could see the irritation on the faces of the other dog owners, who were doing their best, but with a fifty pound dog coming flying into the face of their pups every couple of minutes, it was not ideal.

This is when I suggested White Hair might give a Halti a try. This is a head collar that generally gives the owner more control over the dog. I could see she was getting self conscious about all the attention I was forced to give to her and Leo compared to the other dogs in the class. She snapped at me and waved me off. “I’ve tried that. I can’t even get it on him. He’s a good dog. He’s fine everywhere but here. He really is! He’s just overstimulated.” (Uh, duh. Clearly. But she still needs to control her dog.)

On their second day, she showed up ten minutes late for the class, and waited outside the door, Leo thrashing wildly, making high pitched moaning noises as she struggled to manage him. I met her outside, and she was already at her wits end.

“I just don’t think this is the place for us. He’s unmanageable! It’s too stressful! He’s so unhappy here.”

Leo was anything but unhappy in class. He loved it – it was a non stop party for him. Dogs to play with! People to pet him! But White Hair was unhappy – she was embarrassed and frustrated, and she was pretty much ready to turn around and walk away. I looked at poor Leo. He isn’t a bad dog, but old White Hair was basically making him more neurotic by the minute. Poor guy.

Mustering up all my patience and "calm-assertive energy", I mentioned again about the Halti. I told her I knew how she felt, and I did. Siris was a hundred times worse than Leo the first day I set foot in an obedience class. “He’s the worst one in the class – none of the other dogs behave like him”, she said, daring me to disagree with her. I didn’t. “You’re right – he is the most energetic, and the most out of control – but if this is his problem area, that’s why you’re here. This is what he needs.” She was skeptical so I kept talking. I believe in him, I believe in you, blah blah blah. I had to pretty much give the lady a motivational speech before she’d step into the room. She was still fighting me, but she joined the class, begrudgingly.

During the Sit-Stay, the goal is to get about 30 seconds of time with the dog in position. White Hair settled for about five seconds out of Leo before she ended the exercise, ignoring the teacher’s instructions, and launched into the most exuberant praise ever. The rest of the room maintained their Sit Stays, and Dorothy politely reminded her that we needed to achieve some time and that we weren’t finished. “No, we were finished,” said the lady, clueless. “He already did it, he did a good job.” Some people. She went about doing every command her way, with little to no regard to the instruction, and ignoring our tips and advice wherever possible.

Finally, I was able to convince her to let me try Leo on a Halti. I tried a new trick of mine, asking if she “would be open to" me trying out Leo with the new collar. When you ask someone if they’d be open to something, it’s hard for them to say no without looking like a closed minded, argumentative idiot. If the Halti didn’t work for him, I would drop it, I promised. And to be honest I was a bit unsure as to if it would work, given her account of her past attempts, but hey, it’s not like I had anything to lose.

I used food to introduce Leo to it, slowly, and I was calm but firm. He didn’t fight me at all, as I put it on him – if anything he relaxed. When we started walking, he did try the usual things dogs do when being introduced to a Halti – the ragdoll routine, the lying down, rolling around and trying to paw it off his face, the bucking around like a bronco. I just encouraged and kept walking, and Leo transformed before our eyes. He stopped his whining and the crazed and anxious look vanished from his eyes. When I was walking him, he was paying attention to me; his tail was wagging, and he was alert. He was under new management, and if he could talk, he probably would have said “thank you.”

White Hair, seeing the results, couldn’t argue. She finally softened. I let her try walking him with the Halti, and coached her through it, giving her more encouragement than I thought any human would ever need. She started to get it – she still jerked too much, and stopped when the dog stopped, but Leo was manageable, and she was learning. She told me stories about adopting Leo and she asked me about my own dog. We laughed together. For the rest of the class, Leo did great, and White Hair’s confidence increased. She would not be leaving the class after all. I felt like a million bucks. Moments like these are why I love this job so much.

The lady is absolutely still the most high maintenance and infuriating client I’ve had to deal with in a long time, and she’ll probably continue to ignore advice and do things on her own terms in the coming weeks. But we did right by her dog, and here’s hoping life gets easier for the two of them, for Leo’s sake.

You’re a smart boy, Leo. Be patient with that human of yours - she’ll get it eventually.

Temp Life

2009-07-31T13:41:00.004-04:00

It’s been challenging finding summer work this year. The government funds programs that incent workplaces to hire students during the summer season – but forces these companies to demand that their student employees are between fifteen and twenty nine years old. So basically, I’m too old to qualify for the majority of student jobs. (What? Really? But I’m still a student! Doesn’t that count for anything?)

Having spent the majority of my adult life in the Corporate World, I figured that was my best bet in terms of hourly wage. Now, if the economy were better, I could have lined up a project management contract and reeeeally made some good cash, but most companies just aren’t investing in projects right about now. So I have settled for the next best thing, providing administrative support on a temporary basis. It’s easy, it’s low stress, and it beats the hell out of Starbucks. Is it totally beneath me, intellectually? Sure. But who cares?

It’s funny how people treat you when you’re the receptionist, or the mail room clerk. They assume you’re a total idiot. And it’s even weirder when they know nothing about you. Like for example, nobody at my current assignment knows that I’ve been trained in Six Sigma and can run a hell of a tight project. Or that I’ve built a department from the ground up, including the key performance metrics...and built the reporting capabilities to extract the key performance metrics. Or that I’ve delivered training to hundreds. Or that I’ve managed and coached countless employees into promotions. But whatever.

“Do you know how to book a meeting room in Outlook?" the sales representatives ask me condescendingly, "Did Janice show you how to do that?”

They hesitate before asking me; they're uncertain, almost expecting me to have no clue. And then, their elation when they find out that I can do it for them! Wow…as if it’s that difficult. They’re basically expecting me to be a total moron. A bit insulting, for sure, but I’m not divulging anything. As a temp, you can please people just by being of average intelligence, their standards are so low.

I’ve been so bored on the majority of my assignments, that I go above and beyond on every single task and essentially blow people away with my responsiveness. I do it because it gives me something to do. I provide tracking numbers on every package sent out. I stock every photocopier in the office full of paper. I tidy all the office supplies. Just to give me something to do. I wonder how people actually do these jobs full time. I’d go crazy.

On a temporary basis, though, it’s fun. It’s like I’m on my own reality TV show. I go in for a week, meet the people, watch how they do things, do the tasks I’m hired to do, and then I’m gone. I judge their processes, the ones I’m involved in, and think of ways I would make them better. I notice how much money they waste, how much time things take, how fulfilled the employees are. That’s the Six Sigma in me, I guess.

But nobody suspects I’m noticing these things. Or that I even have the capacity to understand them and what they mean to The Big Picture. After all, I am just a temp.

Love your library!

2009-07-16T18:46:00.014-04:00

Recently I've rediscovered the library. I'm not used to having time to read for pleasure: I spent most of last year pretty much reading textbooks and lab manuals exclusively...There was no time for biographies and novels. This summer, I've been loving reading, though. The Toronto library system is decent - I can order up whatever I want on the internet, wait for it to come in, and pick it up at my local branch when it's ready. I'm catching up, slowly.

Currently I'm waiting for some great stuff:

"The Compassionate Carnivore: Or, How to Keep Animals Happy, Save Old MacDonald's Farm, Reduce Your Hoofprint, and Still Eat Meat" by Catherine Friend. No, I'm not thinking about going back to meat. But I am curious to read this, because I have loads of meat eating friends that do care about the earth and animals, and I suspect this might be a good book to recommend to people who want to make good choices but aren't ready or willing to part with meat in their diet.

"Five Years of My Life: An Innocent Man in Guantanamo" by Murat Kurnaz. Over a year ago, I saw Murat being interviewed on 60 Minutes. His story is compelling. At age 19, on a visit to Pakistan, he was taken into custody, sold to US forces, and held without proper charge in Guantanamo where he endured nearly five years of torture and suffering. After some massive campaigning by friends, family, and thousands of Amnesty International supporters, Murat was finally released and wrote this book.

"Summer of My Amazing Luck" by Miriam Toews. I just finished a book by her, called "A Complicated Kindness" that I just loved. I'm hooked on her writing, her characters, everything. If this novel is even close to as good as that one, I'm in for a treat.

"Merle's Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog" by Ted Kerasote. I gave this book to Ola for her 30th birthday and have been wanting to read it ever since. Somewhere, though I can't remember where, it was described as the best story about a dog there ever was. That's enough for me. I'm sure I'll cry buckets of tears when the dog eventually dies at the end, but that's to be expected, and I'm a sucker for dog stories.

"Redemption: The Myth of Pet Overpopulation and the No Kill Revolution in America" by Nathan Winograd. The story of animal sheltering in the United States, a history of sorts. I've been reading the author's blog a lot lately and like his take on animal issues.

"The Unwritten Rules of Social Relationships: Decoding Social Mysteries Through the Unique Perspective of Autism" by Temple Grandin & Sean Barron. Temple Grandin rules. She's autistic, a Ph.D. in Animal Science, and just plain brilliant. I *loved* her book, Animals In Translation - she's just got such a different way of looking at the world - her perspective about whatever she's tackling seems totally different, but the thing is, it always makes sense - it's just not the way I naturally, initially think about things. Which I find fascinating. A new world. Really exciting. I have only ever read her stuff about animals before - am really looking forward to her take on human social relationships.

I've also ordered up a DVD about Dr. Grandin called "The Woman Who Thinks Like A Cow" , which is about her life in general, and her work improving conditions in the livestock industry. I recently cancelled my cable, so am always looking for free, interesting, educational, stuff to watch. I miss the National Geographic Channel, and The Documentary Channel. (Okay, and HBO.)

Ohhh, just making this list is making me super anxious to sink my teeth into all this good stuff. Hooray for the library - I'll never stay away this long again!

Why love one but eat the other?

2009-07-12T11:58:00.006-04:00

Chooseveg.ca has started a really cool campaign increasing awareness about the conditions farm animals are raised in and the target audience is subway riders in Toronto. Which is great, because whether you want to or not, if you're riding the subway, you're looking at the ads. Kind of controversial, but hopefully eye-opening for a lot of people who choose not to think about how what was once a cute little piglet ends up on their dinner plate.

The campaign is aimed at connecting our companion animals like dogs and cats to farm animals in terms of their similarities, and then exposes the suffering of farm animals in factory farms. Three different ads are featured, sharing information about pigs, cows, and chickens. I must admit I was majorly proud to be a vegetarian as I sat facing the pig themed ad yesterday on my ride downtown. You can view each of the ads on Chooseveg.ca website, as well as watch video footage, read articles, get great veggie recipes, and learn about the benefits of a vegetarian lifestyle.

Why I love Kensington Market

2009-07-10T10:47:00.000-04:00

I was poking around on youtube and found this little homemade clip shot outside Graffitis that shows Baldwin Street busy with the usual Saturday afternoon crowd, John Borra Band playing live at the bar (the song is "Irene") and a lady and a kid dancing their hearts out to it. The quality is crap, but the sentiment: magic.

Nicotine Dreams

2009-07-08T13:51:00.004-04:00

I don't think I blogged about my journey into non-smokerdom, but last year, shortly before my trip to Uganda, I set about on a quest to free myself from a nasty addiction. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. All my close friends smoked. I was living with a smoker, so our apartment smelled like smoke pretty much all the time. I fought against years of engrained smoking habits. The walking-to-the-bus-smoke. The with-a-glass-of-wine-smoke. The patio-smoke. The I'm-bored-smoke. And the I'm-stressed-smoke. And the I'm-angry-smoke. And all the rest of them. I did it though-- the patch helped me with the physical cravings while I retrained myself of all my psychological habits. And I was smoke-free for almost a year. Despite it being one of the most challenging years ever - despite the stress of school and the worst break up ever, and the move from hell, I maintained my status as a non-smoker. Until Siris went missing that day, and then, I'm ashamed to admit it, but here it is: I fell off the wagon.

For the months of May and June, I got back together with my old pal cigarettes. How quickly I fell into old habits. Awful. I hated my clothes smelling like cigarettes. I hated needing one with my morning coffee, and I definitely hated the money I was wasting on my dirty little habit. Most of all though, I hated the feeling that I had caved, I had failed, I was weak. Boooourns.

So, I'm on the patch again. Day five of my new life as a non smoker. I like the patch because you simply can't smoke when you're on it. You could have a stroke. That's incentive enough for me. I can't stop thinking about cigarettes, but I know that slowly that will go away. By the time school starts again I should have weaned myself off the patch and be fully rehabilitated.

But man, the dreams! I had forgotten about the vivid dreams you get when you've got a nicotine patch slapped on.

Two days ago, I dreamed I was at a wedding - either the bride or the groom was related to me, which I knew in the dream, even though I couldn't see either of them, so I don't actually know whose wedding it was. Dr. Phil was there, with his wife. (I know - random, right? Dr. Phil is haunting my dreams? Really?) They were related to the either the bride or the groom too, but not on my side. Dr. Phil was up there on stage, making eyes at his stupid wife and talking about how this was going to be "A Changing Day" for the couple. He kept blabbing on and on, while I kept trying to see who was actually getting married. Whoever they were, Dr. Phil was totally hijacking their wedding.

Yesterday I dreamed about a toddler girl who was getting her eyebrows threaded. Seriously, she was a two year old, cute as a button, getting her eyebrows threaded by some little old chinese lady in a basement somewhere. Weeeeird.

I almost never remember my dreams, and this week, they've been waking me up in the middle of the night. I hope once I'm down to a lower dosage patch I can go back to my regular dreamless, deep slumber nights.

Commie Bathroom Graffiti

2009-07-06T08:31:00.008-04:00

The Communist's Daughter boasts some of the best bathroom graffiti ever. One day, after a few too many, I went a little camera happy with my cell phone, documenting. The forest background in one of the stalls is too awesome for words, and note the "You look hott!" written so when you check yourself in the mirror, you feel good about yourself.

"Fear is the lock, and laughter is the key to your heart....hehehe Don't worry - Keep Laughing"
"...OR TRY COMEDY."

"Please, somebody carve this bit of drywall out and put it in their scrapbook. It is obviously going to be an insanely valuable autograph when the genius visionary philosopher king who wrote it is inevitably world renowned. -- Sarcasm: for those times when you are not happy enough to be funny."

"I feel sorry for people who don't drink because when they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they will feel ALL DAY."

And the response: "every night you get fucked up you borrow joy from the next day. At least the non fucked-uppers break even. And that's all." (note the big "DOUCHE" with arrow pointing to this one.)

Siris and Jabba suck at posing

2009-06-25T11:57:00.004-04:00

Brindle dogs unite! Jabba is my pal Ola's 12 year old french bulldog.

This was taken at Woofstock '09 courtesy of my friend Heather Reilly.

Rally to reform the Toronto Humane Society!

2009-06-23T11:43:00.005-04:00

It rained the day of the protest. Which sucked. But still, two hundred people showed up. We stood under umbrellas in the rain, listening to speakers, holding signs, chanting "Tim Trow Must Go!" It was very peaceful. We collected tons of blankets, towels, toys, food, kitten formula, and other donations for the animals inside the shelter.

Ran into a friend that used to work at the Toronto Humane Society and wow, was it ever a reunion of ex-shelter workers and volunteers. When the chanting began, one of the ex-employees said to him "I'm scared to say anything. I don't want to get sued." She hadn't worked there in years but had signed something on her departure and wasn't sure when it "expired" and she was legally able to participate in something like this. She said there were current shelter workers there who were basically incognito. Hoodies up, sunglasses on, wanting to support the protesters, wanting to rally for change, but scared out of their mind for their jobs.

All this just reaffirmed that there is something definitely wrong at the Toronto Humane Society. A lot wrong.

Some good reading on the subject:

Globe and Mail article: Inside The Raid on the Toronto Humane Society
Toronto Star article: THS Chief Admits "I'm no saint"
Toronto Humane Society Protest Blog
Association for the Reform of the Toronto Humane Society Website

Perspective

2009-06-19T19:52:00.001-04:00

Today, I went to visit Sue's husband in the hospital. On Wednesday, he had a below the knee amputation after stage three cancer was diagnosed in his right foot. He's known the diagnosis for almost six months now, and decided pretty quickly amputation was the way to go. The type of cancer, synovial sarcoma, is rare and the prognosis with chemo and radiation in his case wasn't very good. Amputation was the best case scenario to squash it and prevent any spreading. He'd been on a waiting list for surgery, on standby, and got about a week's notice that it was time. It's been a rollercoaster for him and for Sue, these past few months.

When I walked into his hospital room at Mt. Sinai, he was alert, smiling, chatting away, and surrounded by friends and family. He was up on his crutches, doing things for himself, studying the exercises he's gotta do, lining up his rehab and physio options, and ready to take on the world. Whatta guy. I can't see him sitting around, wallowing, watching the world go by. Not him.

Watching him, I felt strangely proud. I was inspired by his positivity and motivation. And especially by the outpouring of support around him. I was reminded of what really matters in this life, of all the simple stuff we take for granted everyday.

Xrays and tests confirmed no spreading of the cancer - which he'll have to monitor regularly for the next few years, but things look very good for him. And once he gets fit for prosthesis, through his therapy, and adjusted, I know that he'll be unstoppable. What a journey that awaits him. Go Rahim!

Hooray for Investigative Journalism!

2009-05-30T15:30:00.007-04:00

Someone finally wrote it! And published it! The piece (or rather series of pieces) that expose the Toronto Humane Society for what it is. Yessss, Kate Hammer! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Basically the gist of it is this: The Toronto Humane Society is so busy keeping their euthanasia numbers low, that they're allowing animals to die, sick in their cages, when they could be humanely euthanised. Then, these cases don't count in their euthanasia numbers. Which they put on pretty charts and contrast against the City of Toronto Animal Control's euthanasia numbers, making them look like angels, and garnering more and more public donations. The Toronto Humane Society's management process appears to be such that shelter managers and workers get ultimate say on euthanasia, medical procedures, and care - not the veterinarians.

Further to this, employees aren't treated well, and shelter worker turnover is attrocious. Anyone who speaks out against management, questions policies... is fired. Even volunteers are asked not to come back. I've known this for a while. I've known people who volunteered there, worked there. I once volunteered there myself as a dog walker. I've joined Facebook groups calling for the resignation of the volunteer President, Tim Trow. I've read blogs, listened to past employee rants, and have known all too well what goes on there for quite some time. But how to stop it?

Kate Hammer, journalist for the Globe and Mail, has done an amazing thing here! And she and the Globe are no doubt being sued by the Toronto Humane Society for publishing the article. But good for her! The truth needed to come out. People are getting angry. The public backlash is about to begin, and Part Two and Part Three of the story have yet to be released.

Anxiously awaiting what comes next...

Fruit from Dorothy

2009-05-28T12:50:00.007-04:00

For some inexplicable reason, my boss at the dog obedience school, Dorothy, has gotten into the habit of giving me fruit to take home every time I see her. I can't even remember when this started. One day, she was raving about some pears she'd had, and decided to give me one. I don't even like pears that much, but she seemed like she just wanted to share this pear experience with someone so badly, that I let her.

The next week, she followed up -- she wanted to know how the pear was. And what could I do but tell her how awesome it was, since she was so into it. She'd be offended if I didn't share her enthusiasm. And it really was good, I'm not gonna lie.

That night, I got two more pears from her. The next week, two pears and two tangerines. And so on. For some reason, she's pawning off all this fruit on me, and I'm not sure why. Does she think I don't eat enough? Does she think I can't afford fruit? It's really bizarre. She doesn't bring fruit for Ola, who works there with me. Just me. Only I get the fruit. It's lovely but weird. And I don't have to buy fruit anymore, which is also cool.

This week, Dorothy threw a couple of kiwis into the fruit bag. That's a new one - after a year of pears, apples and tangerines, suddenly kiwis! I wonder what it means...

"Do you like kiwis, Andria?" (quite pleased with herself) "I thought you might."

"Oh yes, Dorothy, I love kiwis!" I pretend kiwis are the best thing in the universe. "Thank you!"

Who knows what's coming next week. Random.

Andria vs Douchebag Landlord: it's on!

2009-05-25T18:30:00.006-04:00

The last few weeks in my old apartment, the landlord came by to check out the condition of the apartment. He sent me a note saying that major damages had been assessed. These damages included things like mild caulking erosion in the bathroom, a leaky pipe in the kitchen (which we reported months before, and nothing was done about it!), ceiling damage (which we also had reported, because I was worried it might start leaking, and nothing was done about it), smoke damage (the ex smoked like a chimney), wall damage from where I had put up a doggie gate, and scratches on the front door.

He also proceeded to tell me that items were missing, like a door closure, and a panel on the dishwasher. Which I swear, I have never seen either of these things in the entire time I lived there. He did not want to hear that, and didn't even acknowledge it when I told him that in writing, and on his voicemail. Douche.

I conceed the dog gate wall damage. Maybe a couple of scratches on the front door. Maaaaybe the smoke damage, which could basically be resolved cleaning, which I did. The rest: wear and tear, and not my responsibility!

Even in the stress and general chaos of moving, I left that place sparkling! My mom was good enough to help with the cleaning, while I was supervising movers and carting stuff from old place to new place. It looked amazing when I left it. I thought that that was the end of it.

Today, I received a letter in the mail, asking for over $1500 to cover "repairs" to the apartment. There's a longer list of stuff I'm being charged for, including damage to the closet (which was ghetto from the first day we moved in, and all I could use half of it for was a vacuum cleaner) damage to the bedroom walls, a cleaning charge for dog food and broken glass (seriously, he must have found a couple of kibbles and shards of glass in an unaccessible corner somewhere, because we cleaned the crap out of the kitchen!). I'm being charged for "loose or broken towel racks". They were not broken! They were not even loose! He just wanted to replace them, like he wanted to redo the closet. RAGE.

I'm being charged for the "missing" door closure, and for the "missing" dishwasher panel, both of which never existed. I'm being charged for all the wear and tear that he neglected to address while I was living there. I obviously can't afford this, so...the war is on! Being unemployed so far this summer gives me ample time to research my rights as a tenant and figure out how I can get out of this, and hopefully get him in trouble in the process for trying to hose me unfairly.

Oh, and in addition to me swinging by to drop off the payment, he'd like the keys back. (The keys, four sets of them no less, I returned to the Super on April 30th, when I moved!) RAGE, RAGE, RAGE!

This could get ugly. Hopefully I come out on top. Wish me luck, folks - stay tuned for updates.

America has the chance to do the right thing.

2009-05-22T21:35:00.005-04:00

This week the US introduced a new bill: the LRA Disarmament and Northern Uganda Recovery Act.

If passed, the LRA Disarmament and Northern Uganda Recovery Act would require the Obama administration to develop a regional strategy to protect civilians in central Africa from attacks by the LRA rebels. It will also enforce the rule of law and ensure full humanitarian access in LRA-affected areas.

And it commits the United States to increase support to economic recovery and transitional justice efforts in Uganda.

It's about time this issue made it to the Senate. There's been so many grassroots efforts to raise awareness and solicit help at the government level. The kids at Invisible Children blow me away! They got themselves and an army of youth supporters on the Oprah Winfrey Show earlier this month. It's so exciting that this is on the table, and that those affected by LRA conflict and it's aftermath might actually get some real help.

America, please do the right thing.

Cat Ladies

2009-05-16T09:50:00.006-04:00

I saw this documentary as part of Toronto's Hot Docs festival this year. Partially because I thought I might recognize some people or character traits given that I'm active in the cat rescue world, and partially because I'm terrified I'll turn into a crazy cat lady myself. Even though, admittedly, I'm much more of a dog nerd.

This is a really great flick that delves into the psyches of four self professed "cat ladies" and what motivates them to do what they do. Basically, people who turn to cats to fill an emotional void in their lives. Some of the footage made me want to look away, while some had me tearing up at the loss and longing in these ladies' lives. The film also explores the all important (and pretty frightening) issue of "hoarding" vs "rescue".

Highly recommended!

New Digs/Concrete Jungle

2009-05-14T08:31:00.007-04:00

I never thought I would live in an apartment building - I've always lived in apartments in houses, but I guess it had to happen at some point. There are advantages: most apartment buildings allow dogs, laundry is in the building, your super is on site so if anything breaks, it's usually resolved in a decent amount of time, it's easy to get a place with a balcony.

I'm in a low-rise: four storeys, and I'm on the main floor so I don't have to deal with waiting for elevators or making small talk with residents while I'm in the elevator, which is nice. And I do have a decent balcony. The shitty thing is if Siris barks, she's pissing off an entire building and not just a few people, like in previous apartments. I'm taking precautions like using her citronella spray collar, tiring the crap out of her, desensitizing her to me leaving and coming back, though. So far no nasty notes pinned to my door - yay!

It's weird looking out my window and seeing a ton of other apartments though. Lots of people packed into a very small area. It's weird being in a building with eighty apartments and not knowing a single one of my neighbours. It's weird getting my mail out of a tiny mail cubby. It's weird walking around the block and seeing tons of other apartment buildings, stretching up into the sky. I will get used to this.

The privacy thing is the hardest. Seeing people hanging out on their balconies means they can see me hanging out on mine. Using the same entrance as seventy nine other apartments is just odd. Seeing everyone's routines but not knowing who they are is weird. It's like commuting via public transit, when you see the same people on your route all the time, and you never talk to them, yet you feel like you know them. Except it follows me home. Weird.

I picked this place because it's near everything. The subway is less than a ten minute walk from my door. It's closer to school than my old place. Groceries, shopping, bars, are all within a short walk. The amount of shoe stores I can walk to is kind of frightening. (I can also walk to a Mendocino outlet store - wooot! Ok, that's my inner Carrie Bradshaw speaking, I guess.) There's a clinic I might try to volunteer at that's five minutes away. And the best thing, there's an amazing off leash dog park with tons of fenced off nature trails just a couple minutes away. Which breaks up the grey and the concrete quite nicely. This ain't bad for now. It's just gonna take some adjusting.

The fishies survived the move, too!

2009-05-09T09:21:00.002-04:00

After traumatizing my three fish by removing them from their tank and placing them in a tupperware container, driving them to my new place, and then sticking them and their tupperware container in the closet for over 24 hours while I decided where to put the fish tank, it looks like they handled the stress okay.

Still alive and kicking, one week post move. If I haven't killed them yet, I knew they could do it. And look how cleeeeean their new digs are!

Worst. Day. Ever.

2009-05-08T15:29:00.009-04:00

While I was moving, Siroons went to stay with a friend. I couldn't deal with her constantly being in the way, anxiety increasing by the minute, following me around like a shadow. I made the move okay, and was supposed to rendez vous with my friend that night for her 30th birthday party and then get a lift home with Siris in the morning. A chance to relax, have a few beers, see my puppers again... but nope. Miss Siris decided to bolt from their place and went MIA.

I spent the whole weekend driving around, dropping off posters, making calls, logging her as Lost on every internet site I could imagine, hiking fields trying to find my girl. Worrying my head off, trying not to worry my head off. Rollercoaster city. My friend feeling awful, her birthday ruined, and me still wound up from the move.

She took off on Saturday morning and we found her Sunday morning at Kennel Inn (animal control) in Aurora. Turns out she hadn't gone far at all, and an off duty kennel worker picked her up shortly after she left. I was beside myself when we got the call that they had her. They let me come in to make sure it was her, even though they were technically closed. Oh, happy tears! And then I had to leave her there and pick her up the next day since they'd be open. It was brutal leaving her there, but amaaaazing to know she was safe. Never thought I'd be one of those douchebags picking up their lost dog at animal control, but so be it.

Within two minutes of putting her back in the car, I was already shouting commands at her, as she was a brat in the back seat, squirmy and hyperactive. Heh. We had a doggie date at the Aurora Dog Park, a hike through some trails, a long ride back and she was out for hours. A nice calm intro to my new place.

Here she is crashed out after I got her home:

and chilling on the patio the next day:

Crisis averted. Welcome home, baby!

I Hate Moving

2009-04-29T08:08:00.005-04:00

Boooo. Tomorrow is the day, and I'm *kind of* ready. Siris is at a friend's house, I'm madly packing away. Goodbye, creepy haunted apartment.

Knitting Project!

2009-04-24T20:06:00.002-04:00

Just to further confirm I'm an old lady, I'm making a cat blanket for the kitties at school. It may just be the first knitting project I actually complete. However, school's out for summer so I have until September to get er done. Possible? Maybe.

Ode to Survivor

2009-04-16T22:37:00.008-04:00

I have to confess, I'm in love with Survivor. It's probably the best reality TV show ever. A lot of my friends aren't into it, and think about it probably how I used to think about it: stupid, boring, totally predictable. Except it's not. It's so awesome that I want to read internet message boards about it. And I do. It's the reason I got bunny ears, when I ditched my cable, and outside of Law and Order the odd time, pretty much the only television I watch.

This season is no exception. We have possibly a Survivor first - an alliance formed on Exile Island that might prove to be the thing that gets the winner to the end. It's all very exciting. Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds, but really. I'm not going to lie. I love watching a bunch of really strange and interesting personality types all try to live together and work together and strategize together in extremely stressful and constantly demanding surroundings. I believe that it ultimately says a lot about who's really a good person and who's not, and whether or not that matters really, enough to determine whether you get the $1 Million at the end of it. My current theory is that you do have to be a good person to succeed at the game and get the prize. Jury votes, alliances, probably all depend on a certain level of respect and admiration from your peers. Usually you have to be a good person to earn that. Usually.

Plus Jeff Probst being a total snark and not holding anything back. Plus the editing! Ohh, the editing.

I like watching along and deciding who I believe is worthy enough to win... and then seeing if actually happens. I love watching people realize a lot of really profound stuff about themselves and how they interact in this world. Or watching them not realize it and keep on being totally clueless and full of themselves - there's one of those this season, too. (Yeah, I'm talking about you, Coach!) All in all, amazing television. Skeptics, give it another watch. You'll be glad you did.

Bandaging Practice!

2009-03-24T10:53:00.003-04:00

My girl is such a good sport!

Why I can't wear cute shoes anymore...

2009-03-22T16:55:00.000-04:00

I guess I am officially an old lady...because I've developed a bunion. A bunion is an enlargement of bone or tissue around the joint at the base of the big toe. Basically, a huge bump on the side of the great toe joint. The result is irritated skin (check!), pain when walking (check!), joint redness and pain (check!), and possible shifting of the big toe towards the other toes (sadly, check.) Oh, and add, "rubs against most footwear causing discomfort." Check! Gah. This condition is heriditary, so I have good old mom to thank for this. Right now, it's my right foot only, so I guess things could be worse.

From what I can tell, I could have surgery to have my toe realigned, and to have the bump of bone growth/tissue growth removed, but from the research I've done, the condition likes to come back, so what's the point? Plus, even if I tried it, I'd be looking at 6 to 8 weeks recovery, crutches and the like, which isn't exactly practical since I live alone, have no car, and have a dog that needs to go out three times a day.

All winter I've been rocking these babies which are warm, dry, comfortable and big and roomy enough that they don't irritate the old bunion.

But the weather's getting nicer, and I can't be wearing my Sorel boots in the spring and summer. The jig is up! So until it's officially flip flop season, I think I'm fucked. I've been buying these foam bunion cushions that pad the area so shoes don't hurt as much... but they still hurt. Waaah. And I LOVE shoes! Am I gonna have to start shopping at specialty old lady shoe stores? Oh, the humiliation.

Bad news...

2009-03-20T18:44:00.003-04:00

...has been coming in droves this past week. I'm not sure how or why but bad things are happening all around me, to some of my favourite people ever.

A good friend's husband got a cancer diagnosis last week. Stage three. He's only thirty two years old, and he's going to lose his foot because that's pretty much his treatment option right now. Thankfully, it hasn't spread to his lymph or to his lungs. But it will, if he doesn't undergo amputation. My friend is being a rock, but I know inside she's a mess. Same with him, obviously.

Another good friend's mom is in a coma and might not wake up. Her lungs and her liver are basically non functioning. She was doing fine last week, and now she's non-communicative. My friend is putting on a brave face, but I know she's terrified, and I would be too. I'm terrified for her, in fact.

Another good friend had a miscarriage, not even a week ago. Heartbreaking.

My heart is aching for them all, and for their families. And I feel pretty helpless, which is worse. I so badly want to do something to make it easier for them, and yet I know nothing will. So I stand by, waiting for updates... trying not to bring it up, but ready to listen if they want to talk. And afraid to answer the phone a little, because of what I might hear when I do.

We are all getting older. Our parents are getting older. Life's changing. Is this "the thirties", or is this just an exceedingly bad start to the year 2009? ... I don't know.

I am keeping everyone in my thoughts and in my heart, and hoping for an upswing, for a good karma kickback for those who I know so absolutely deserve it. I want so much to hear something good.

"My" Barn

2009-03-14T18:36:00.000-04:00

This is the barn at Seneca, where I muck out stalls, sweep and clean, and water and feed our school horses Buddy, Moondrop, Bandit, Sandy and Stoney. I own coveralls!

Kiss, kiss!

2009-03-02T11:27:00.004-05:00

Cheap and Delicious for the Single Vegetarian

2009-02-22T09:25:00.002-05:00

How have I been vegetarian for years, and not known about President's Choice Vegetarian Chili in a can? Being in school, I barely have time to cook, and it's a lot of work for just me - so I am always on the lookout for cheap, yummy and veggie friendly options and stumbled upon this. There's not just veggies and tomato sauce in here either - there's soy protein in this little bad boy! It's not frozen, which is nice, and heats up in a whopping three minutes. I top it with a bit of shredded cheese, and add a couple of pieces of crusty bread on the side for dipping, and there you go - all food groups, covered! For $1.49 a meal! And it tastes great, leaves me full and gives me back one hour+ in my day. Thank you Loblaws.

Siroons is killing me.

2009-02-20T17:50:00.015-05:00

Last Friday, after my week of kennel duty madness, I got home ready to sink into the couch, pour myself a of glass of wine, and pat myself on the back for getting through it all. The driving back and forth, the socializing with twenty year olds, working at the dog school, trying to get midterms studied for and pulled off was just exhausting. All of it. I had eaten dinner at my parents house, adding to the exhaustion. Walk in the front door, and there's Siris, wagging her tail. With a big giant mass sticking out of the right side of her head.

I freaked out. She looked like she was packing a golf ball in her cheek. Her jaw or teeth or something were making a weird grinding noise. She looked ridiculously, hopelessly asymmetrical. So I worried all night, hoped it was just an allergic reaction, and the next morning called the vet. They squeezed me in and told me likely not an allergy since it's not bilateral. Which I should have known but was in denial about it. They told me possible tooth abscess or mass or salivary gland infection. So they sent off hematology (blood work) and histology (tissue work) and I worried about how I would afford it all. Blah.

Today I got a call that it's a "submandibular granuloma", that they think we can treat with anti-biotics. They said usually caused by a foreign object getting in there and a resulting infection. So, that's good news. The antibiotics they gave me when I took her in seem to be working, I can still feel the hard mass, but the swelling is barely noticeable. She's on FOURTEEN pills a day now, between these and the ones for a skin infection she's had forever. My old girl is slowing down so much. I am terrified of losing her. She just limps along beside or behind me, tail still wagging, ears still looking goofy. I wish she could talk to me so much. She whimpers at the cat, and sticks to me like a shadow. She is trying to pretend to herself that she's not getting old. But she is getting old. Sniff.

I sure hope she stays healthy and strong - I can't imagine my life without her. Taking her back for a re-check tomorrow and they might add another antibiotic. Yikes. We're going UP from fourteen pills a day.

The mutters appreciates any good vibes from cyberspace.
________________________________________________________
*edit* I just clicked on the photo to enlarge it so you can read my annotation, and noticed that in the background you can see Senor Snuggles peaking out at Siris from the dining room, plotting, and his eyes both hit the flash so that he looks like a demon cat. Awesome.

Oh, the maturity!

2009-02-15T16:01:00.000-05:00

Some neighbourhood prankster who thinks he's oh-so-clever has been defacing all the No Exit signs in my area. (Yeah, I said "he".) Not exactly sure what this genius is trying to tell the good people of Forest Hill, but I for one am getting sick of seeing his handiwork every time I take the mutters out for a walk.

Damnit! (Roommate Search Continues...)

2009-02-09T20:12:00.003-05:00

So I finally met someone decent who came to look at the apartment. After the crazy religious medical student lady came a couple of completely trashy flakey ladies, who both thought the room was too small for all of their stuff. And I was kind of losing hope and getting broker by the second, after them. But next came a pretty cool girl who came to look at it. She asked me what my pot policy was, pretty much. She had a cat that she wanted to bring with her. She had furniture that would fill my areas of furniture emptyness/weakness. It was all so delightfully easy. But moving your single cat into a home where there's a cat and a dog - well, that's a big change, and not something to take lightly. So today I got an email from her saying she wanted to find somewhere that her cat would be the only pet. Boooourns.

Back to the drawing board, I guess. I have another girl with a diabetic cat in the horizon somewhere. She's out of town on business this week so hopefully she gets in touch when she gets back and doesn't flake out all Craigslist-style. So many flakes. Free advertising sucks. Toronto Cat Rescue posts on there sometimes and now that I'm their Volunteer Coordinator, I get to deal with my fair share of Craigslist crazies.

Anyways, cross your fingers for me that woman-with-diabetic-cat is not a flake, and falls in love with us and with the apartment.

Also, think good thoughts for me making the drive out to good old King City this week. No ice-patches. No snow. No freezing rain. Think safe and uneventful. Three weeks to reading break.

Heart Shaped Dog Biscuits

2009-02-08T11:00:00.006-05:00

We're doing a dog treat bake-sale at school, where the funds go to the animals, so this weekend I began my foray into homemade dog treat baking. These ones are to combat doggie-breath and have mint, parsley and activated charcoal in them to accomplish this. To my surprise, they actually came out okay. Siris got to eat the imperfect ones, and she loved em.

2 cups brown rice flour

1 tbsp activated charcoal

3 tbsp vegetable oil

1 egg

2/3 cup milk

1/2 cup chopped parsley

1/2 cup chopped mint

Preheat oven to 400 degrees fahrenheit. Mix flour and charcoal. Add oil and egg. Mix. Add milk. Mix. Add mint and parsley. Mix. Drop onto greased cookie sheet. Bake for 12-15 minutes. Voila! Done! Store in sealed container in the fridge for maximum freshness!

I tried to roll my dough and use cookie cutters, which happened with only moderate success, but each batch is looking better. Happy early Valentines Day, doggies!

Fun times in the Vet Tech program

2009-02-04T14:27:00.005-05:00

This week in one of my labs, one of my professors devised a game called she dubbed 'Basophil Boot Camp'. She distributed cards to the class - a blue card for "Basophil", and a red one for "Not A Basophil". And then we spent a good half an hour going through a powerpoint presentation she'd prepared - we'd all look at an image and then have five seconds to hold up a card depending on what we thought of the leukocyte on the slide. Basophil or Not A Basophil?

Cell identification - exciting stuff. When most of the class got the answer right, our professor would break out into a huge grin and say "Yaaaaaaaaaay! That's right! That IS a basophil!" and we thought she might explode with happiness. She loves her cells, all right. Her level of enthusiasm...? A little over the top, perhaps since we are talking about white blood cells here, but good for her for making it fun.

Anyway, this is an example of how I spend my days at school, and what I'm learning.

In the last week in addition to surviving 'Basophil Bootcamp' I also:

Gave an IM and a subcutaneous injection to a Beagle cadaver.
Manually and automatically processed an x-ray
Correctly identified round worm eggs in a fecal float

Cooooool.

The Great Roommate Search 2009

2009-01-27T14:31:00.007-05:00

I should have mentioned that it's just me and the kids (pets), again. Another relationship over. Starting from scratch again. It's ok - it's probably good, even. And I have learned a lot about what I will not be okay with next time, so that's something. But I'm overwhelmed. Broke, in the middle of a very demanding semester in a very demanding program, and with a couple of furry dependents no less. So, because moving just seemed too daunting, I'm going to ride out the semester here and I'm trying to find me a roommate. If they're awesome, maybe I'll stay longer. If not, I'll move us all to somewhere new in May, when school's out and I actually have a job.

So - Operation Roommate. I first used Facebook. Friends of friends, right? Six degrees of separation and all that. Which yielded a few international inquiries, but I'm not renting out my place over email to anyone. Too dicey. Next stop, Craigslist. Eeeek. Really opening 'er up to the crazies. Yesterday, a woman in her late forties came over to see the place. She is a medical student, and an ordained minister. She's taken vows that mean she won't drink, use any intoxicants and.. well, she trailed off after that, so I'm not even sure what else. She wanted to do "treatments" in her room for her clients. She wanted to share kooky hippie food. And of course, she loved me, she loved the place, she even loved Siris giving her a tongue bath. She was pretty much begging me to let her move in. I need the money, but am I that desparate? No, not quite yet, I don't think.

Also from Craigslist, I've talked to some promising people over the phone. They're going to come and see the apartment and meet the kids and I tomorrow, so here's hoping one of them is more my speed. With each person that is interested, I feel as if I'm on some bizarre roommate game show - do I keep who I have... OR DO I RISK IT ALL AND HOPE THERE'S SOMEONE BETTER WHO SURFACES? After all, it will only be the next three months of my life right? Here's hoping fate is on my side.

I need to buy some firelogs to make the place look all cozy-like, and exercise the crap out of the mutters so she's on her best behaviour for our potential new roomie at our next unveiling.

Vroom Vroom

2009-01-25T09:01:00.004-05:00

Every three weeks or so, I'm expected to be at school at seven am for what's called "Kennel Duty". This is part of our animal care duties, and absolutely required to graduate. No missing a shift, no being even a minute late, or you'll be shot. Well, no, but your grade drops to a C the first time and you're booted out of the program the second time. Yep, for real. So no pressure.

If I'm on Small Animal Kennel Duty this means feeding dogs and cats, scooping out litter boxes, walking the dogs, collecting samples, filling out everyone's chart, and mopping, cleaning, disinfecting, etc. If I'm on Large Animal Kennel duty this means feeding calves, sheep and horses, letting them out in the pasture in the morning, bringing them in at night, mucking stalls and wheelbarrowing large amounts of crap over to the manure bin, sweeping and other fun tasks.

There's no bus that will get me to school for seven, so I've been borrowing my mom's car and driving there on the days I have kennel duty. Every time I get behind the wheel of the car I have a little meltdown: Will someone cut me off? Will I be rear ended? Will the car skid in a patch of black ice and spin out of control? Will there be construction on my regular route forcing me to take a new and scary route? Will I arrive alive? Heh, seriously.

And every time nothing happens, and I get there just fine and as I'm dropping off the car at my parents' house at the end of the week, I breathe a sigh of relief. My confidence goes up a little. I'm even proud of myself for gettin' er done. For navigating expressways, and dealing with winter driving conditions, and for stepping way out of my comfort zone. I even think that one day this will all be second nature. And then I dread the next time. Sigh.

With the holidays comes compassion...

2008-12-15T18:57:00.002-05:00

In the busy-ness of the Christmas season, it's easy to get stressed out and irritable. The cold weather is here, the economy's in the toilet, and everyone's rushing around in a panic because there are only x shopping days left till the 25th. Well today, in the midst of the holiday madness, while walking through Toronto's snootiest neighbourhood -Yorkville- I witnessed a very upscale, well dressed middle aged lady give a giant bag of warm clothes to a homeless man. Faith in humanity restored.

More wacky college fun

2008-12-03T17:59:00.004-05:00

My anatomy professor treated us to her rendition of this song about cows the other day during lecture. I believe it's an Arrogant Worms song (thank you Google!):

I am cow, hear me moo
I weigh twice as much as you
And I look good on the barbecue
Yogurt, curd, cream cheese and butter
Made from liquid from my udder
I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo (moo)

I am cow, eating grass
Methane gas comes out my ass
And out my muzzle when I belch
Oh, the ozone layer is thinner
From the outcome of my dinner
I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas

I am cow, here I stand
Far and wide upon this land
And I am living everywhere
From B.C. to Newfoundland
You can squeeze my teats by hand
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!

Public Transit

2008-11-30T09:10:00.003-05:00

One of my biggest expenses since going back to school has been transportation. I buy these lovely GTA Weekly Passes for $47 that allow me unlimited transportation on TTC, GO, Brampton Transit, Mississauga Transit, and York Region routes. Then I trek out to school each day - first via TTC to Finch Station, where I hop on the York Region Transit 88 route bus and enjoy the one hour ride to the boonies. Who knew that these little passes even existed? Not bad. Although if they made them in monthly form, and lots cheaper, that would be even better.

Still waiting for my mom to buy her new car so I can snap up her '99 Protege and cut two hours of commuting outta my day for good... but riding the bus does makes for some good studying time.

Meh.

2008-11-22T08:19:00.002-05:00

"Meh" was officially added to the Collins English Dictionary this week. It's now officially defined as “an expression of utter boredom or an indication of how little you care for an idea”. After years in my vocabulary, I'm pretty stoked that the good people at Collins are giving it the recognition it deserves. "Meh" has finally, officially, become a real word. How bout that?

Happy Elevator & Escalator Safety Awareness Week!

2008-11-14T17:35:00.002-05:00

Join me in celebrating Elevator and Escalator Safety Awareness Week! (Yes, really. They have a week dedicated to everything!) May your travels on elevators and escalators be safe ones, folks.

Social Dynamics

2008-11-02T09:17:00.007-05:00

In the Veterinary Technician Program Class of 2010 at Seneca there are 97 students. 94 of them are women, ages ranging from eighteen to probably about forty, with the majority being in the eighteen to twenty three group. From the third day, I began to realize what a problem this could be. Because girls, together, can be mean. Remember high school? Yeah. So this is kinda similar.

Most of these girls are from small town Ontario - Kitchener, Cambridge, Aurora. These are the horse/large animal people, usually. Live on a farm, work at local stables, have been riding since childhood. Other girls are from GTA suburbs like Mississauga, Newmarket, Vaughan, Richmond Hill, & Markham. Lots of them work in clinics already and cop a bit of a "I know everything there is to know about working in a vet clinic" attitude. Some have exotic/pocket pets at home like ferrets, snakes, rats and talk about them constantly. A few people came into this program with a few friends, but most people - me included - entered it not knowing anyone. And, similar to high school, girls seem to make friends with other girls by deciding who they don't like and banding together against that person. Bonding over how annoying they are, which includes everything from how they speak, what they say, how they dress, how they walk & who they hang out with. If you join in the bashing, you've made a friend. It's pretty ruthless.

And this is not to say that there aren't some truly annoying people in the program. Absolutely there are. But so what? That's life. You won't like everyone you meet. Must every second be about talking about how much we don't like them? I have managed to make a few friends of the non-bitchy variety. I'm not really there to make friends, although in college one needs to have a few friends handy, since nearly everything is about "group work".

Two of my friends are immigrants to Canada and at the older end of the age range spectrum. Patricia is from Brazil. Most of her family still lives there. She lives in Etobicoke with her husband and her jack russell terrier. She works part time at a Dollarama, for $8.75 an hour. She takes public transit two and half hours one way to get to school...and I thought my commute was bad. Everyone in her Kennel Duty group thinks she is stupid and can't speak English and therefore, they hate her. Patricia is probably smarter than they are, and although she speaks with an accent, her English is just fine. She's the nicest lady, ever, and the fact that she's being bullied by rich early twenty-something students whose mommies and daddies are paying for their schooling, transportation, and living expenses makes me crazy. When Patricia and I bonded over the social weirdness that is our program this year, on a long bus ride home, I thought she was going to cry because she was so grateful that someone else understood and shared her feelings.

Derrix is from China, where he was a full blown veterinarian. Which is quite different in China, in that they work mostly with production animals like swine and cattle. Veterinary clinics, as we know them here, are pretty much non-existant. Derrix has been in Canada for only 2 years - he's got a wife, and a daughter, and they live in the Victoria Park and Finch area. Derrix's English is pretty abysmal - he translates everything into Mandarin in order to understand. He misses test dates, and other important announcements, because they're said too fast for him to translate and write down. He relies heavily on other students to help fill him in, and explain assignments, terms and concepts. When he speaks, you have to ask him to repeat himself several times - simply because the pronunciation is off and his accent is so thick. But he's out there, and he's trying. I can only imagine how difficult it is for him. He handles the animals somewhat roughly, because that's what he's used to in China. He has no pets of his own - his family simply can't afford them. He barely understands the concept of animals as companions: once, while we were together in the school's computer lab and I showed him some photos I had online of Siris, he remarked that I must "have a deep feeling" for my dog, which I thought was really cute. What an adjustment for him, culturally. Many of my classmates are impatient with Derrix, because it takes him so long to understand what's being asked, and he needs so much help, and admittedly, it can be taxing. Sometimes I get the feeling I'm going to school for the both of us, he can be so high maintenance. But I admire what he's doing, and hey, the man needs help, and it's not like it's that hard to offer it. Sometimes I don't know what's wrong with people.

To be honest, I'm not sure if either Derrix or Patricia will survive the two years. Derrix, from an academic perspective - he's not doing too well on assignments and tests because of the language barrier and he may not pass the required courses to advance in the program. Which sucks, because concept-wise, the guy knows his shit. He just doesn't know it in English. Patricia, from an emotional standpoint, may end up dropping out, if she continues to be bullied and targetted by mean girls. Her confidence is low, and I hope she'll have the strength to continue and rise above the immaturity that runs so rampant when 94 young women are thrown into close quarters.

Survival of the fittest. High school redux. Me, I'm concentrating on the learning, and on being a decent human being. Doing well academically, staying out of the drama and amassing good karma along the way are my goals for the next couple of years, and I'm gonna try to stay focused.

Reading Break

2008-10-24T10:30:00.002-04:00

I had forgotten about Reading Break... amazing. A week to myself to unwind, hang out with old friends, look for a car and a part time job, and oh yeah, study. So far so good. Except I haven't done much of anything but man, do I need this break.

In other news, I am licensed to drive! Trying to convince Momsy to sell me her wheels on the cheap, which would be amazing.

Trying to find a part time job that doesn't involve me going back to working retail. Because, ugh, I don't think I can do it. Looking for part-time reception or administrative work, because it pays a little more and I won't have to deal with the raging public at Christmas time...as much. Really wish I didn't have to work, because with school, studying, my one day a week at the dog school, volunteering with Toronto Cat Rescue, and uh, my own life, it's hard to fit it all in. But I needs the cashola.

Doing a charity walk tomorrow for Gulu, a small village in Uganda that has been affected by a 20 year war waged by the LRA. I'm really excited about it, although I hear it's supposed to rain. Walking 11km in the rain could be a little bit unpleasant, but I'm sure I'll make the best of it.

Back to skool on Monday!

Blog Resurrection!

2008-09-13T20:06:00.005-04:00

Oh, hi!

It seems I've forgotten to post anything in here in, uh, months. Bad, I know. But it's not like I've been doing nothing - I just haven't been writing about any of it. So let's catch up, shall we?

I moved: I don't live in a basement anymore! Yay! I moved in with the boy, and we both seriously upgraded - we have the best apartment either of us has lived in, ever, in a great neighbourhood, with lots of parks nearby for The Mutters. Aaaand, there are no crackheads anywhere in the vicinity that we can tell, which is another plus. Although we do have a downstairs neighbour that royally sucks, and we do suspect our house may have a ghost (not a mean one, though.) So, all in all, good trade-up. Apartments are much more affordable when there are two of you.

I went to Uganda. Yep, I took a two week trip to Uganda to volunteer... and it was amazing. Softchoice is doing the corporate social responsibility thing, and each year employees can apply to sit on the Softchoice Cares Board - which is a group of employees who oversee the company's philanthropic efforts for the year. So I was on it for 2007-2008, and we raised over $200K to support causes relating to bridging the digital divide. We built a computer labs in Cambodia, Laos and Nepal. At the end of our term, we got to go volunteer abroad. It was one of the best things I've ever done. I wrote a blog about it that you can check out here.

I quit Softchoice...finally. Yep, almost right after getting back from Africa. I hated dealing with the corporate politics. I hated not being able to help people who needed help, because it wasn't my job. I hated building Project Dashboards and presenting at Steering Commitees and Balanced Scorecard Reviews. I hated pretending I cared about items that were Red or Yellow. I hated spoonfeeding people what they needed to do and then getting pissed off when they didn't do any of it. I hated that I rarely cared about achieving any of my project goals. So I decided I just wasn't going to do it anymore... which brings me to the next big crazy thing...

I am back in school. I'm doing a two year college program so I can be a Registered Veterinary Technician. Because I'm clearly not cut out for the corporate world. And just because I can succeed there, doesn't mean I should. Vet Techs make next to nothing. But all of them that I know are amazing people who love their jobs. And hopefully that will be me, when I graduate. I'm going to Seneca College, and it's crazy being back in school when you've been out of it for so long. It was a big scary decision, but the plunge has been taken. Gulp.

I'm going to be a driver. I'm taking driving lessons and have a road test booked. I need to be able to drive to school because the commute to King City on public transit is fucking killing me. I never thought it would happen, but it's going to. Just as gas prices are hitting an all time high, I am joining the driving population. Weird.

So, yeah. Not too much new over here. Heh. Except, oh, pretty much everything. (except that, I'm not engaged nor am I preggers or anything, which seems to be going on all around me.)

Writing the Uganda blog made me realize how much I missed the blogging thing. So... I am back, and looking forward to sharing my adventures as a thirty two year old student in the midst of a massive career change...plus the same old Andria crapola as usual.

New Fishies

2008-02-09T14:27:00.000-05:00

Way to go, Willie!

2007-12-12T09:17:00.000-05:00

Willie Nelson rules.

Cute little kid story

2007-10-07T07:59:00.000-04:00

Witnessed one of those super cute parent child exchanges that actually makes me want to procreate yesterday. Dad and daughter were walking Mom out to her car at the curb to say goodbye as she went on her way to... well, somewhere.

Dad: "Say bye to Mommy, sweetie!"

Girl: "Bye bye, Mommy!"

Mom: "Bye bye, sweetie!"

Girl: "Bye, Mommy!"

Mom: (laughing) "Bye, sweetie, I'll see you soon."

Girl: "Bye bye, Mommy!"

Mom: (closing the car door): "Okay, sweetie, bye-bye!"

It was all incredibly cute and happy. The mom drove away and the little girl continued saying bye, louder and louder - till she was literally screaming at the top of her lungs, "BYE BYE MOMMY! MOMMY! BYE BYE!" and Dad says "Okay, honey, there's no point in screaming -- Mommy can't even hear you anymore."

The girl looks astonished. "She can't?" Long pause. "Why not?"

So cute. I'm sure tomorrow some kid will have a temper tantrum in front of me in line at a store, and I'll change my tune, but I'm liking kids today.

Jack Astors

2007-09-27T19:33:00.000-04:00

I went to a Jack Astors for the first time ever today. I thought I wouldn't like it at all, and I mostly didn't, but... they have Cherry Coke there! Well, they make their own version of it, with actual cherries in it. Yum. Brilliant. They redeem themselves with the best sweet carbonated beverage in the universe.

Michael Vick is a Jerkface Loserhead

2007-08-06T11:47:00.001-04:00

This guy is a class A douchebag. NFL Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick will officially pled guilty to federal dogfighting charges next Monday, which could land him in jail for up to six years and cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars. Woo! I've been following this case since it broke, even going as far as subscribing to Google Alerts. I love Google Alerts.

All this badness began in April of this year, when investigators conducting a drug search at a Newport News property owned by Vick found 66 dogs, including 55 pit bulls, and equipment typically used in dog fighting. They included a "rape stand" that holds aggressive dogs in place for mating and a "breakstick" used to pry open a dog's mouth. He's accused of bankrolling and participating in the dogfighting operation... you can read the entire 18 page indictment here -- sick, sick stuff. Dogfights organized by Bad Newz Kennels had purses of thousands of dollars, as if this loser needs any more money. But you know, it's not the money, it's the thrill. Of watching dogs fight gruesomely to the death. Uh, yeah.

Vick originally pled not guilty and was awaiting trial in November - meanwhile, he was asked not to show up to Falcons training camp, and sponsors like Nike and Reebok are pulling their business. Animal rights people, and hell, pet owners everywhere are all over this - letter writing, petition signing, protesting. Business has to respond. If I was a mom, I sure as hell wouldn't want my kids wearing Michael Vick jerseys.

Then there was the whole debate about whether the media has the right to crucify him and shouldn't he be afforded due process, and can't the world just leave him alone? Poor, poor Michael Vick. Cause, you know, it was Vick's cousin was living at that house, not him. Michael Vick had noooo idea this dogfighting enterprise was going on on his property. And then, slowly but surely all three of his co-defendents flip. They plead guilty and agreed to cooperate with the feds. After the first defendent flipped, Vick was still maintaining his innocence. His PR guys have one hell of a job trying to repair his public image. They issued some ridiculous statement that basically said 'Michael Vick loves dogs. He would never hurt them.' And then, the other two flipped. And what could he really do then? Swallow his pride and plead out for a lesser sentence. Douchebag.

And of course, many of his supporters are pulling the race card. That's right -- the media and the public are crucifying poor Vick because he's a successful black man worth $100 million. And apparently white people can't stand that, so we're on a crusade to destroy him. Uh-huh.

Nevermind that this guy doesn't exactly have a wonderful track record. In 2005, he slept with a Georgia woman who contracted Herpes as a result - Mr. Vick didn't have the decency to disclose to the woman he was positive for the virus before they slept together. She sued; he settled. And last November he even flipped off a stadium full of fans after losing a frustrating game. Now that's a role model.

Is this case such a big issue because Michael Vick is a black man? I say no. Is he getting so much attention because he's a celebrity athlete who participated in and bankrolled a horrifying crime? Sure. That's the price you pay for being in the public eye, Vick. Wouldn't matter if you were Native, Caucasian, Japanese or East Indian.

The only good that has come out of this is increased public awareness of the underground dogfighting world, and of animal cruelty in general, and the fact that this guy is going to do time. Once he officially enters his plea, it will likely take another couple of months before his sentence is actually decided - and I hope they're tough on him.

Life lessons in the world of Andria

2007-08-03T19:01:00.000-04:00

I was thinking about a lot of the people I know and love and how very different they are and I think it's really great that I can connect with people pretty deeply and find some common ground within a huge variety of people. I like being able to walk into a crazy situation with a bunch of strangers and have something to say and learning something about someone at the end of it. I think the key to starting it all off is fixating on the one thing someone says in casual conversation that you find the most interesting, and seeing it through by asking a lot of questions. You learn stuff; they get to elaborate on their story and are thrilled to have an inquisitive audience. Effortless. Relationship develops. Easy. Bulletproof. Rewarding.

I think I learned this from smoking pot. You know, life lessons.

My new neighbour

2007-07-02T14:18:00.001-04:00

A girl I used to work with has recently moved into my neighborhood and she's got a pitty mix type dog too. I didn't know her well when we worked together, but she was always this tough attitude-y type that you were kind of afraid of - fiercely independent, and fiercely disgruntled, always swearing and always ranting about something.

Today in the park she was sitting on a bench, listening to her headphones and singing out loud to herself. She waved and smiled at me when me and the mutters were passing them. And as we were walking away she said to her dog, "ok, I think it's time to let you off the leash. Now you be a good girl and if you see any other dogs you come right back to Mommy, ok?" I could barely believe she was talking to her dog like that, that she was referring to herself as "Mommy" in front of the whole neighborhood. And as I was thinking about how much she must have changed over the last couple of years, I heard this: "...I MEAN IT SWEETIE, YOU FUCK UP EVEN ONCE AND I'LL LOCK YOU UP!" She just meant, put the dog back on the leash tied to the bench, but it was sure hilarious.

Feel Good Story of the Day...

2007-06-17T14:29:00.000-04:00

...and why I like that they put cameras in phones:

"Why I hate giving presentations to Important People" by Andria

2006-11-20T19:03:00.000-05:00

Important People don't really want to sit through your presentation anyway, and they have cell phones and PDAs to get distracted by.

Important People comment on tiny things they find wrong in your presentation just because they can... and also because they want to see if you get thrown off by them calling you out on these mistakes, and they want to see if you'll bounce back. It's like reality television.

Presentations for Important People can go off track pretty fast (Important People like to go off on tangeants), and you never know what's going to take it there or if they'll let you bring it back.

Important People don't understand your job with anything more than an "extremely high level view" nor do they want to.

Important People rarely connect with you.

No matter how bad it actually goes, Important People always tell you what a great job you did as you're sitting down at the end of it. You're thinking "wait, they hated it. they didn't get the point! they asked so many hard questions" because you've felt like you've been at the wrong end of a firing squad forever...and then all of a sudden everyone is your friend again and everything you do is great.

Important people's assistants have to remember to write you emails thanking you, on the behalf of their designated Important Person, for your informative presentation.

And I guess just generally, putting together a presentation for Important People is hard work. With not much payoff.

Booourns.

My egomaniac of a dog

2006-11-17T12:32:00.000-05:00

To this day, I still haven't been able to rid Siris of a really annoying habit she has. Whenever anyone walks by us on the sidewalk, if they're carrying a shopping bag, she absolutely has to check it out. People carrying shopping bags are awesome! Her tail's going crazy, she must make eye contact with the person, and then she can't resist turning her head and taking a sniff of the super amazing shopping bag, which is no doubt loaded with fantastic things that are all for her. If I wasn't paying attention, she'd probably have her head *in* the bag. These poor neighbours of mine, just trying to cart their stuff from point A to point B, end up with the biggest fan ever. And the look of disappointment on my poor girl when these people walk on by without acknowledging her or sharing their goodies- classic! Seriously - my crazy mutt thinks the entire world should be bringing her presents.

Kevin Clarke

2006-11-13T19:37:00.000-05:00

There's this crazy homeless guy who's always in my work neighbourhood, Kevin Clarke. He's colourful alright. He's loud, and opinionated and in your face and "fuck the man". But you can tell he's really smart. And also incredibly creative. When he's ranting about something, it has a bit of a beat. And his words sound good together - in a weird poetic spoken word kind of way. He wears crazy robes, and he talks to everyone - he gets right in there; he won't be ignored. Often you just try to get away from him pretty damn quick. But he seems very happy. And very informed, very political. He's running for mayor for his third time - election day today!

I ran into him outside the Gladstone yesterday where I was having a cigarette with a few friends, and he made up this whole kind of rap about things about us - what we were wearing, making up a bit of a story about us. And then he shook a little can, and hey, I kind of wish I'd had a twoonie in my pocket. And then, even though noone gave him any money, he walked away smiling because we had enjoyed his performance. So, maybe he's actually not that crazy.

I found an old article from Eye about him which was pretty interesting. If you live in Toronto, I'm sure you know this guy - it's a good read.

Things could be far worse...

2006-09-04T08:03:00.000-04:00

Ryan left me with these words of wisdom on Saturday, after an amazing mexican brunch where I was being admittedly sulky about recent events in my life:

"Well, at least you're not a fat lady trying to make an illegal left-hand turn."

...and I thought that was brilliant. Yeah, it's a bike courier joke, but really, it's perfect. Because part a: being a fat lady in an enclosed vehicle that only makes you look fatter is pretty unfortunate in and of itself. Add part b: you're too dumb to know that the turn you're making is illegal but everyone else on the road knows and has to point it out...well, there's something very pathetic about that. Or a different spin on part b: you're a fat lady who is such a bitch that you know you're making an illegal left-hand turn, and are so selfish that you just don't care. Not only are you fat, but you think you're above the law, and have decided to inconvenience everyone else as a result...pretty damn deplorable.

I feel better about my life already, and who wouldn't? Because at any given moment, I'm sure that there are countless fat ladies trying to make illegal lefts, and at least I'm not one of them.

Weddings are for jerks.

2006-09-02T09:34:00.000-04:00

I have two friends getting married on the same weekend. I love them both and I am happy they have found the one and whatever, but if I have to spend another minute talking about dresses or seating arrangements or emcees or flowers or photographers I'm going to go crazy. I get it, it's a special day. I get it. But I am at my threshhold. Girls getting married should have to go away to a commune where they hang out with other bride-to-bes and talk about weddings 24/7 until about a week before the date.

Oh, who am I kidding? I just don't want to lose my friends to the abyss of boring married couples out there.

Lemonade

2006-08-31T20:56:00.000-04:00

I walked by a lemonade stand today, on my way home from work. Seriously - just on my street up by Bloor. A bonafide, little-kid-manned, lemonade stand. They were just packing up when I walked by or I definitely would have shelled out the 25 cents. They're the cutest kids too and so out of place in my cracked-out neighbourhood. They draw hopscotch on the sidewalk and they skip rope and say hi to everyone. They love Siris even though their mom doesn't want them getting too close. They make me think living on this street isn't that bad.

Ode to the homeless man of the week

2006-08-29T10:40:00.000-04:00

Today right as I was sitting chain smoking and spilling my guts to a close friend about boy problems, a homeless guy asked us for change. We both smiled and muttered "Sorry..." and he smiled back and said "Don't be sorry...I hope you both have a great day." And you know, I felt like he meant it. And then he carefully emptied his water bottle right on the sidewalk in front of us, making a watermark on the sidewalk in the shape of a giant heart. I think I almost blushed, and it made my own heart feel good.

Attention Hallmark Executives...

2006-08-20T10:39:00.000-04:00

The monkey themed greeting card seems to have gone the way of the dinosaur. I for one am outraged. What happened to brilliant photographs of chimpanzees wearing lipstick? Or suspenders? Or fine, even naked chimpanzees just making funny gestures? I've had to buy a ton of cards recently and not once could I find a monkey themed card - infuriating. Hallmark, have monkeys on greeting cards gotten less funny? The answer is OF COURSE NOT! I've got two weddings upcoming but do you think I could find a card with a picture of a chimpanzee wearing a veil? Nooooooo.

Do I need to spell it out? Birthdays: monkey eating a giant white cake with his hands and getting it all over his face. Come on! Valentines Day: monkey holding flowers, or better, one monkey giving another monkey a big smooch. Christmas: monkey in a Santa hat. The possibilities are endless, folks. It ain't that hard. The picture that goes with this post could be either "Doh, I forgot your birthday" or "Sorry I was such a Jackass..."

Do I have to resort to the internet for all my monkey greeting card needs? I mean, really. Hallmark, please! I'm shaking my head here.

Things that always cheer me up

2006-08-13T12:16:00.000-04:00

Meh. I hate when I get into feel-sorry-for-myself-mode. Things that always make me feel better:

This picture.

Fuck, she's sooo cute, and sooo happy, I can't stand it.

Finding something new and hilarious at The Onion.

This website. You can substitute part of the URL for someone's name and it sings a fabulous "You Got Owned" song that never fails to make me laugh my head off, coupled with funny slide show of people/pets in ridiculous situations. Never gets old.

Chixdiggit! (yes, the dorky punk rock band from Calgary, AB) Also, the Beach Boys.

Buying pretty things. Gah, I'm such a girl.

Calling up old friends.

Sunshine. I need to move out of this basement, stat.

I love you, E-bay

2006-08-07T08:52:00.000-04:00

Ebay is wonderful, but a slippery slope. Tips I have learned over the years: best not to surf ebay when under the influence... don't bother bidding if you can't be at a computer when the auction ends...find out how much shipping will cost you before you register a bid...place your "final" bid with 25 seconds remaining in the auction...place your real final bid with 10 seconds remaining...pay quick and be nice - feedback counts.

Fun stuff that E-bay has brought me over the years:

Liz Phair - Supernova b/w Combo Platter 7" Record.
On pretty blue vinyl no less.

Helium - Hole in the Ground b/w Lucy 7" Record.
This is rare and won me tons of indie cred back in the day. Haven't listened to it in about 6 years now.

Various Sanrio themed personalized return mailing address stickers.
Nothing like slapping a Hello Kitty return label on your taxes.

The Blue Lotus Tintin Poster.
I even corresponded in French with this dude.

Weird Vintage Tintin's-Dog-Snowy Children's Pull Toy.
To this day I have no idea what compelled me to buy this.

Rocket Dog Shoes - Two pairs.
Both discontinued styles, brand new, ridiculously cheap, and four years later I've finally worn them out. Ebay, I'm a comin'. Again.

Puma Sneakers.
So I thought they were baby blue, and they turned out to be uh, teal. Still cool.

Fallen Angels Movie Poster.
One of the coolest movie posters ever. The seller was in Germany and this took an eternity to arrive but was well worth the wait.

PVC Agility Practice Jumps and Weave Poles.
Yeah, I have no backyard and occasionally convert my living room into an obstacle course for my dog. And let's not talk about the size of my living room. These purchases are why I caution you about confirming shipping charges before you bid.

Epiphone Acoustic Guitar with pick-up.
The mother of all Andria E-bay purchases, but I'd been in love with this guitar for years and never thought I'd ever see it again anywhere. Overshot my max bid price about 4 times and I still don't regret it.

Elvis Presley Blvd Street Sign.
I finally caved to the many many pages of Elvis paraphenalia on E-bay, and as much as I love this, I have banned myself from further Elvis themed E-bay shopping.

Camoflauge Cat Collar with bell.
Oh, Pacman--I'm sorry.

Hank Williams Sr International Fanclub vintage key chain.
I couldn't not.

Lost in Bay Station

2006-07-30T17:10:00.000-04:00

You can sit around and whine about how you don't have anything to do, or you can make your own fun and convince your friends to be a part of it. Even if it's a large, over-the-top, grandiose idea that ends up taking a zillion years to plan, and probably a lot of money too. Hooray for Jill. I woulda thought of it, but I woulda been way too lazy to execute.

And so, I spent my day yesterday in a giant Amazing Race type booze-a-thon event that had me running (yes, running) around the entire city like a maniac with my fellow team members. The Pinko Commie Hippie Fags, as we called ourselves. There was hula-hooping, jump rope, something with stacking plastic cups in pyramid formation, something with guitars that I can barely remember. We may have stolen an Italian flag off of someone's house. And of course, there was more booze than I've consumed in a long, long time. Our team cheated hardcore and we still didn't even come close to winning this thing, but it was a lot of fun. Minus the 37 degrees with the humidex thing. And boy, do my legs hurt today. And I kind of wished Honest Ed's would have been a stop - I can find anything there in record time. We would have kicked ass finding toothpicks at Honest Ed's faster than anyone.

I do believe I am a serious liability to have as a teammate. I smoke too many cigarettes and am easily winded. I am not strong, nor am I coordinated. Music trivia is not really my thing, unless it's country music trivia, but uh, seriously, why would it be? I try my damndest to keep up with the best of them in a drink-off, but when it all comes down to it, I'm a tiny tiny girl. Can't fight nature. I'm sure I can drink more than your average 100 pound girl, but there's only so much a 100 pound girl can drink without you know, falling over. Woohoo for the hula-hooping. That, I rule at.

Recent Discoveries...

2006-07-13T19:59:00.000-04:00

There's an awesome Native woman who plays acoustic guitar and who sounds like Barbara Manning who's taken up outside my local LCBO.

And sometimes there's live reggae at Christie Pits park on the weekends.

The Sopranos is probably the coolest TV show on the planet.

Homogonized milk is way better in coffee than 2%.

Marijuana + Ice Cream Bars = Happiness.

And good sweet red cherries are more than worth the exorbitant amount of cash you shell out for them.

Say hello to the orange guy!

2006-07-02T11:41:00.000-04:00

Name: Pacman (formerly known as "Snuggles")
Age: Approximately 5 years old
Date of Arrival: June 24, 2006
Origin: Abandoned in a vacant apartment, Toronto Humane Society
Likes: Treats, scratching stuff, the toilet, walking on my keyboard, fridge magnets (partial to the letter "X")
Dislikes: Whatever kind of food is being fed to him, the Siris lick bath.

--------------------------------

**Edit** Okay, so Pacman just didn't stick. People just kept calling him Snuggles anyway, and then Snuggles needed a title, so I added 'Senor' for alliteration (and hilarity). He now has a Latino accent, and a whole persona.

Midnight gifts from my dog

2006-06-16T19:29:00.000-04:00

Man, I love having a dog. Last night I spent largely drinking green tea, eating Pocky and watching crap TV, Siris passed out beside me on the couch. I finally put myself to bed, and wake up hours later because I hear Siris rustling around in the living room. Sleepily I call her name and she comes trotting towards my bedroom, tags jingling the whole way. Eventually she jumps onto the bed, deposits a perfectly intact box of Pocky on top of me while I'm lying there under the covers, and then curls up beside me. One big sigh, and she's out.

MY DOG BRINGS ME JAPANESE CANDY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! Awesome.

Page Not Found

2006-05-12T12:50:00.000-04:00

My computer is dead. I do not think it can be ressurrected. Then again, I'm a computer retard. I can't access any URLs. I am posting this on my lunch break from work.

Fuck you if you write computer viruses.
Fuck you if you exploit security vulnerabilities.
Fuck you if you make it difficult for me to identify security vulnerabilities.

But if you're just a nice person trying to find out what's up in Andria-land, then I'm deeply sorry for my absenteeism.

I will be purchasing a new computer real soon, I hope, so you'll have to hang on till then.

What have you missed?

NOTHING.

Well, potentially many giant rants about how swamped I've been and how I wish I would just win the lottery already and move away to a beautiful tropical island and never have to work again, ever. EVER!

I can't handle it -- I'm going to my happy place. I'll be there in a week - happy birthday to me.

Weird and wonderful gifts from my employees

2006-04-29T09:44:00.000-04:00

This bunny is way too cute to eat. It was purchased at a specialty bakery and was given to me for Easter. 100% marzipan.

I got this crazy ceramic Chinese doll from one of my reps when she returned from a trip to China. As you can see, it has synthetic hair. What you can't see is that it also has a penis. (I'm not kidding.) Bonus: it came in a very elegant looking Chinese box which is now the perfect home for my ganja stash.

I scored this novelty slot-machine pencil sharpener from a rep who returned from a weekend trip to Vegas. Very entertaining. Bar, Bar, Bar! Cherry, Cherry, Cherry!

No Flyers, Please!

2006-04-24T18:46:00.000-04:00

Does anyone know if putting up a little sign on your mailbox or your front door actually means you won't get junk mail? Or is some minimum wage delivery person that's gotta drop 1000 flyers just gonna shove one in there anyway? What is anyone gonna do about it, really? If it actually works, I have to say, flyer-haters all over my neighbourhood have been missing out on some serious gems lately. Are evil forces such as voodoo, obeah, black magic and witchcraft destroying me and my family? YES! KARINA will come to YOU, folks. Money back guarantee!

How are you ever going to change your life when that little sign on your mailbox means KARINA can't even leave you her flyer? She's probably put a curse on you already.

And then we were two...

2006-04-16T10:09:00.000-04:00

I had to send sweet Moe to kitty heaven yesterday. His feline leukemia caught up with him and there wasn't much that could be done. It was agonizing, heartbreaking and truly awful. I was a mess at the clinic; a total disaster. The staff were so good to me. I held a very quiet and still Monsignor in my arms and hugged him to me, just before it was time. He purred, and he never purrs - I think he was hugging me back, just a little. I wish we could have spent more time together. Rest in peace, big guy - I will never forget you.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...Monsignor

2006-03-06T22:39:00.000-05:00

My big hairy furball, who looks pissed off at all times, but who is in fact, not actually a jerk.

Woohoos and Eff Yous 2006 Style

2006-03-02T18:48:00.000-05:00

Big Ups to:

The Sadies, who along with their closest pals, rocked my world on February 4th at Lee's Palace.
Marley And Me: Life & Love With the World's Worst Dog by John Grogan which made me laugh, cry, and helped me to understand that in fact there are worse behaved dogs out there than my Siris.
My new dog-walker, Marie, who is not only pit-friendly, but who can miraculously handle my girl plus four other dogs at the same time.
Hank Williams Sr, just because he'll always be on the "big ups" list.
West Side BBQ, the local crackhead hangout by my house, getting put out of business by bikers.
Georges DuBoeuf Beaujolais, my old stand by.
Word Wars: Tiles & Tribulations on the Scrabble Circuit, the funniest documentary I've seen in a long time.
My old high school pal, Mike, who I ran into for the first time in years and who I really, really need to call and hang out with.
Good postcards from great friends.
The good folks at Annex Cat Rescue, who hooked me up with the best big, fat, hairy, feline leukemia positive kitty on the planet.
Monsignor, aka Moe, the aforementioned big fat, hairy, feline leukemia positive kitty.

And Booooourns to:

The asshole driver who hit me with his car on Monday morning and drove off.
The asshole witness who didn't even stop to see if I was okay.
Cold weather and icy sidewalks.
Being single on Valentines Day, even if I did take advantage of 50% off cinnamon hearts the day after.
Online dating, where I will never go again.
Spending too many Sundays in the office working.
Having to fire people.
Failing technology.
Not having a car.
Business jargon.
Those jerks at OMNI 1, who moved the X-Files to 11:30 pm.

Best. Mittens. Ever.

2005-12-24T10:28:00.000-05:00

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

December Rage

2005-12-18T10:53:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-04T10:03:00.000-05:00

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...

2005-10-02T15:52:00.000-04:00

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!

2005-09-04T16:51:00.000-04:00

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

2005-07-30T11:36:00.000-04:00

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

2005-07-24T10:33:00.000-04:00

"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

2005-05-22T12:38:00.000-04:00

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

2005-04-03T00:07:00.000-05:00

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!

2005-03-23T02:11:00.000-05:00

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:

Cleaned fish tank.
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.
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.
Scheduled my next career counselling appointment.
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.