How in tarnation has a week passed already? Oh, right. I've had quite a run of it the past seven sleeps or so.
1. I'm happy to declare that my report cards were handed in (and I've only had a few boo-boos to rectify -- but I mean, come on, there's only so much perfection in data entry one can expect from an English teacher).
2. I moved. Yes, after hours of cleaning, loading up puny little crappy cars, packing, and whining about how exhausted I was, I finally said goodbye to Walnut Grove where I was happy for four years. I now have my bum firmly parked inside a lovely apartment in Aldergrove with my friend Larissa. I've ALWAYS dreamed of living in an apartment building. Today when I was leaving for work, I was almost giddy as I pressed the elevator button. The little bing! is such a cheerful greeting. I practically skipped out of the building to my car. Although, I am living in Aldergrove. Sunday night after Andy left, I could hear guys yelling and using the F-bomb in all sorts of never-been-heard-before ways, and my imagination started going wild... (cue the chimes)
...I started picturing Andy getting thrown into someone's trunk (he did put up quite a fight though -- don't be deceived by his slight frame. He can move a piano, you know). I knew that I would probably hear more commotion, and I would stick my head out the window (but not see anything), and then grab my phone and maybe a vest, but no shoes (no time, and really, not necessary). Then, I would take the fire escape stairs, cuz there would be no way I could calmly ride the elevator down four floors while my love was being thrown into a body bag. I would race into the parking lot, and see his little jelly bean with the door open, but no sign of him. I figured I would phone 911 and request the police station, and then at that point I would probably wake up Larissa to fill her in on what had happened...
This is all while I'm laying in my bed, trying to fall aspleep. I was getting a little nervous, so I cut my imaginings off before I freaked myself out too much. I even had my phone in my hand, wondering if it would come across as a little psycho if I called him while he was driving home to make sure he made it to his car OK. I decided it was a little psycho. For some reason.
Sigh. I love the imagination. I'm glad to know that I now have a rescue plan if the need ever arises. Safety is important when living in the sketchy bowels of the Lower Mainland.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Marking My Day of Birth
No longer must I bear the imbalance of age 27. I have graduated to age 28 and have the grey hair to prove it. On Saturday the roommate (B'Nedda) and the feeeeeance (Chubs) threw me a little birthday party at our house ("our" being me and the girls -- just for clarification, in case you were worried for a moment that I was "living in sin").
The preliminary activities were as follows: mark for report cards. Yes, that's right, I marked all freaking day long in my living room on my birthday with my partner in crime, also known as The Heavy. We waded through words, music, ink, stickers, b.s. and maybe one Trinity yearbook. My exercise for the day consisted of multiple trips to the bathroom to release the urine so kindly brought to me by tea, water, and hops. I actually have footage of our marking party, but alas, it is at home, and I am at school. Perhaps I will post it later (I'm getting quite the line up of promised videos). It was a rockin' good time, though, let me tell you!
Then, for the main event: Bottenation 28. The theme was kid candy (because, as we all know, good parties have themes). We plaqued our teeth with the likes of SweetTarts, BottleCaps, Bubblicious, Nibs, Pez, Jell-O, Reese's Pieces, Fizz, jawbreakers, White Rabbits, and some other weird Aussie things. I love candy, which is in part why I have not gone to the dentist in 6 years. There was sooooo much food, too (a very special shout-out goes to the ice cream cake -- delicious). Eventually some of the party tricks crawled their way out of the woodwork and we experienced some hilarious moments (and none of them were because people were inebriated, just so you know). I love the purity of good, old-fashioned games. Uproarious laughter was littered throughout the evening in part due to:
The preliminary activities were as follows: mark for report cards. Yes, that's right, I marked all freaking day long in my living room on my birthday with my partner in crime, also known as The Heavy. We waded through words, music, ink, stickers, b.s. and maybe one Trinity yearbook. My exercise for the day consisted of multiple trips to the bathroom to release the urine so kindly brought to me by tea, water, and hops. I actually have footage of our marking party, but alas, it is at home, and I am at school. Perhaps I will post it later (I'm getting quite the line up of promised videos). It was a rockin' good time, though, let me tell you!
Then, for the main event: Bottenation 28. The theme was kid candy (because, as we all know, good parties have themes). We plaqued our teeth with the likes of SweetTarts, BottleCaps, Bubblicious, Nibs, Pez, Jell-O, Reese's Pieces, Fizz, jawbreakers, White Rabbits, and some other weird Aussie things. I love candy, which is in part why I have not gone to the dentist in 6 years. There was sooooo much food, too (a very special shout-out goes to the ice cream cake -- delicious). Eventually some of the party tricks crawled their way out of the woodwork and we experienced some hilarious moments (and none of them were because people were inebriated, just so you know). I love the purity of good, old-fashioned games. Uproarious laughter was littered throughout the evening in part due to:
- Obscene amounts of sugar
- Pregnant woman trying push-ups
- Falling off of chairs face first
- Licking the carpet
- Learning that David is the most important character in the Bible and that Mohammed Ali was a wrestler
- Being smacked in the behind with a broomstick
- Unintentional comments that can be misconstrued intentionally
- More falling off of chairs
- Ripping jeans all the way up the bum
- Blowing bubbles inside of bubbles
- Bending your body in a way only professional gymnasts should attempt (or those who are married)
- Needing to put your pants back on at the end of the evening
I'm sure there are more moments, but maybe if I leave some out, people will COMMENT.
I'd like to again say thanks to the people who made my birthday spectacular! spectacular! I am truly blessed!
All right, I really should get back to marking and whatnot. Reports are due in t-minus 16 hours, and I plan to sleep for at LEAST 8 of those. And procrastinate for maybe 4.
P.S. In case you are wondering what party tricks we played, I'll just say that one involves a broomstick, another a chair with a strategically placed candy, and yet another a cracker box. See, you don't need to go out and buy the fancy games like Cranium to have fun! (I have been against Cranium ever since having to hum "Sweet Home Alabama." Try it. If you dare.)
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
A Peek Inside My Overflowing Basket
Crazy lots going on right now. It's true. A few minutes ago I jotted down what was whizzing through my head before bed. Here's a quick taste:
1. Photographer details -- what can we sell so we can afford him?
2. New house needed for Vanessa and Lana -- to be moved into in a week. Hmm. My problem solving skills need to kick in and be of service.
3. Need to meet with Larissa regarding me moving into her house in a week. Probably should start getting boxes at some point.
4. Need to submit announcement for Battle of the Bands before 8:00 am tomorrow. Shoot. That means I need to get to school early. Means I need to get up really early if I plan on showering.
5. Peter needs the list of kids excused for second period for B. of B's sound check. It's in a pile on top of my assignment tower.
6. Freedom Session tomorrow night. Need to look over email to understand the details of the special communion thing we're doing. Probably should have gone to the meeting on Thursday night. Need to email Abigail. Need to do homework. Oh, and crap! It's gather the garbage day tomorrow -- recycling is out of control, too.
7. Taxes. Right. Should get on that this week. Sort of counting on the return for a big chunk of the wedding budget.
8. Need to pick up napkins and roasting bins on Tuesday for bbq at B of B.
9. Bunch of kids haven't written the unit test and report cards are due on Monday. To care or not to care, that is the question. I shall mark my brains out in the meantime.
10. Need to start inviting people to my birthday party for Saturday night. Need to think of a theme. Need to make sure house is clean.
11. Must figure out how to post video.
12. Need to confirm storing piano somewhere by next week. Andy needs to see the potential place we'll live, or find somewhere else for us.
If you're still reading this, I'm impressed. Maybe I should invest in a day planner instead of posting my schedule all over the internet. Twelve seemed like a good place to stop, because I think I'd get depressed/stressed looking at over a dozen items on a list. I feel more organized, though, just looking at the screen.
It's pretty nutty when you sit down and write out all the stuff that flies through your head all day long. I bet if you stopped and wrote down everything you were worrying about, or trying to remember, or problems you were trying to solve, you would quickly come up with a whole page, too. (I promise that if you posted it, I would spend some time reading it.) Actually, that probably only applies to women. The only thing men are thinking about right now is the Canucks.
1. Photographer details -- what can we sell so we can afford him?
2. New house needed for Vanessa and Lana -- to be moved into in a week. Hmm. My problem solving skills need to kick in and be of service.
3. Need to meet with Larissa regarding me moving into her house in a week. Probably should start getting boxes at some point.
4. Need to submit announcement for Battle of the Bands before 8:00 am tomorrow. Shoot. That means I need to get to school early. Means I need to get up really early if I plan on showering.
5. Peter needs the list of kids excused for second period for B. of B's sound check. It's in a pile on top of my assignment tower.
6. Freedom Session tomorrow night. Need to look over email to understand the details of the special communion thing we're doing. Probably should have gone to the meeting on Thursday night. Need to email Abigail. Need to do homework. Oh, and crap! It's gather the garbage day tomorrow -- recycling is out of control, too.
7. Taxes. Right. Should get on that this week. Sort of counting on the return for a big chunk of the wedding budget.
8. Need to pick up napkins and roasting bins on Tuesday for bbq at B of B.
9. Bunch of kids haven't written the unit test and report cards are due on Monday. To care or not to care, that is the question. I shall mark my brains out in the meantime.
10. Need to start inviting people to my birthday party for Saturday night. Need to think of a theme. Need to make sure house is clean.
11. Must figure out how to post video.
12. Need to confirm storing piano somewhere by next week. Andy needs to see the potential place we'll live, or find somewhere else for us.
If you're still reading this, I'm impressed. Maybe I should invest in a day planner instead of posting my schedule all over the internet. Twelve seemed like a good place to stop, because I think I'd get depressed/stressed looking at over a dozen items on a list. I feel more organized, though, just looking at the screen.
It's pretty nutty when you sit down and write out all the stuff that flies through your head all day long. I bet if you stopped and wrote down everything you were worrying about, or trying to remember, or problems you were trying to solve, you would quickly come up with a whole page, too. (I promise that if you posted it, I would spend some time reading it.) Actually, that probably only applies to women. The only thing men are thinking about right now is the Canucks.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Chasing Cars
I listen to the radio in my car most days. It's true. You see, I only have a tape deck and all the tapes I have are so old they are covered in some ancient sticky muck (most likely spilled rootbeer). Now that I've more fully embraced the technological age, however, I have an Ipod Nano thingamajigger. It's great, except that I have to carefully balance it on my leg while driving (and the thing ALWAYS falls off -- sometimes under my feet and I almost die as I reach down to retrieve it), make sure the little radio transmitter thing is attached properly, and sometimes the sound gets all crackly. Plus, I'm lazy. If I'm just driving to work or the store, I don't usually bother with the whole ordeal.
(That's a long introduction. I think I felt the need to explain why I listen to the radio, because it's clearly not because they play good music. Plus, I'm a bit of a music snob and have long snubbed radio consumption so I wanted to clear up my hypocrisy -- or at least justify it a little.)
Something rare and hateful happened as I was driving home from work today. Usually I get in my car and cringe a little once I remember that the radio is playing. I mean, hearing "Sexy Back" once in a day is bad enough, never mind twice or thrice in one day. Today was a three time winner for Justin. So, when my ears did hear the sounds of ---wait for it--- a good song on the radio, I almost pooped my pants right there in my car seat. Once I recovered from my shock, a smile found its way to my face for the first time in many hours. Finally, one of those rare nuggests of bliss paddled through my ear canals ever so gently, ever so sweetly. Except, it was pretty much when I arrived at my house. Journey's end. Curses!
I did what any sane person would do when something wonderful like "Chasing Cars" finally travels the air waves. I sat in my car on the street in front of my house and listened and sang along at the top of my lungs for the duration of the song. A neighbour was taking his garbage cans back from the curb and smiled at me. The car was warm, my heart was lifted, and I wanted to just sit there and forget the world. Forget what we're told, before we get too old, and just sit in my car that's bursting with mold.
Eventually the song ended and I had to get out. I had to face the cold wind on my bare legs, realize that pee was bursting in my bladder, confront a sink of dirty dishes, and attack armies of paper with only red ink.
Except now I carried something with me. And I'm still humming.
~~~~~~~
P.S. Speaking of cars and moments, Andy and I encountered quite an event while travelling home from Easter. It's captured on video for your viewing pleasure. The catch is I don't know how to upload it to Blogger and whatnot, so I'll have to get that figured out first. So, stay tuned.
(That's a long introduction. I think I felt the need to explain why I listen to the radio, because it's clearly not because they play good music. Plus, I'm a bit of a music snob and have long snubbed radio consumption so I wanted to clear up my hypocrisy -- or at least justify it a little.)
Something rare and hateful happened as I was driving home from work today. Usually I get in my car and cringe a little once I remember that the radio is playing. I mean, hearing "Sexy Back" once in a day is bad enough, never mind twice or thrice in one day. Today was a three time winner for Justin. So, when my ears did hear the sounds of ---wait for it--- a good song on the radio, I almost pooped my pants right there in my car seat. Once I recovered from my shock, a smile found its way to my face for the first time in many hours. Finally, one of those rare nuggests of bliss paddled through my ear canals ever so gently, ever so sweetly. Except, it was pretty much when I arrived at my house. Journey's end. Curses!
I did what any sane person would do when something wonderful like "Chasing Cars" finally travels the air waves. I sat in my car on the street in front of my house and listened and sang along at the top of my lungs for the duration of the song. A neighbour was taking his garbage cans back from the curb and smiled at me. The car was warm, my heart was lifted, and I wanted to just sit there and forget the world. Forget what we're told, before we get too old, and just sit in my car that's bursting with mold.
Eventually the song ended and I had to get out. I had to face the cold wind on my bare legs, realize that pee was bursting in my bladder, confront a sink of dirty dishes, and attack armies of paper with only red ink.
Except now I carried something with me. And I'm still humming.
~~~~~~~
P.S. Speaking of cars and moments, Andy and I encountered quite an event while travelling home from Easter. It's captured on video for your viewing pleasure. The catch is I don't know how to upload it to Blogger and whatnot, so I'll have to get that figured out first. So, stay tuned.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Breathe
Like many of us, I have cried so hard that my body wrenched and fell, and my hands found themselves clutching, clawing, attacking the carpet. I have cried from so far down within me, finally, that I didn't even care that snot was dripping out of my nose at the same rate as tears falling from my eyes. I have cried out in the darkness, not knowing what to do with the pain, not wanting to even move for fear it would all get so much worse. I have felt a loss so deep, so disappointing, that my pain became a veil that made it hard to see, to walk, to feel anything else.
But I am human. I expect that life will be painful. I am not blind; I see all around me evidence of fires within and fires without. No one is exempt. (Is it morbid to find that strangely comforting?) All of us recognize the different faces of our pain and could recount every detail, every wrinkle, every expression. Some of us have made --or paid for-- elaborate masks to cover them up; others have found dark places to hide them away. I would wager, though, that all of us find it difficult to look these faces in the eye.
Sometimes it seems that we should just give up. Why should we bother to live in a world where we can expect something so destructive, so horrendous, so heavy? That doesn't seem very fair, does it? This is a place where people die, sometimes over and over again. I want a place where people LIVE with every step and every breath.
But there IS hope. It is PROMISED to us.
"The thief comes only to steal and to kill and destroy; I have come that [you] may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10
Today is Good Friday. It is a day to remember that God did not leave us in our pain --did not forget us-- though we deserve every desertion. He provided a way out of this mess that we so easily create.
But I am human. I expect that life will be painful. I am not blind; I see all around me evidence of fires within and fires without. No one is exempt. (Is it morbid to find that strangely comforting?) All of us recognize the different faces of our pain and could recount every detail, every wrinkle, every expression. Some of us have made --or paid for-- elaborate masks to cover them up; others have found dark places to hide them away. I would wager, though, that all of us find it difficult to look these faces in the eye.
Sometimes it seems that we should just give up. Why should we bother to live in a world where we can expect something so destructive, so horrendous, so heavy? That doesn't seem very fair, does it? This is a place where people die, sometimes over and over again. I want a place where people LIVE with every step and every breath.
But there IS hope. It is PROMISED to us.
"The thief comes only to steal and to kill and destroy; I have come that [you] may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10
Today is Good Friday. It is a day to remember that God did not leave us in our pain --did not forget us-- though we deserve every desertion. He provided a way out of this mess that we so easily create.
Silence fills a formless void
darkness spills over the deep
the Spirit of the Lord hovering
then you breathe
You spoke the word
life begins
You spoke the word
life begins
deep calls to deep wondering
then you breathe
everything begins here
but You saw more
everything begins here
You must have known
You'd shed Your blood for me
Dust to flesh
You formed a man
who falls from grace and knows his sin
but love chose redemption
love chose redemption
And you breathe
You sent Your Son and all is well
("Breathe" by Matt Brouwer and Jill Paquette)
Monday, April 2, 2007
I Really Can't Complain
Taken in Prince George on April 1, 2007
(I'm sooooo glad we don't live there anymore!!)
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Pride
Reasons why I love being Canadian:
1. Beer flows like raging rivers of honey droplets.
2. We can make racially colourful comments. For example, ah shoot, I can't write down any of the examples. I made three today BY ACCIDENT.
3. Rita MacNeil (the artist and the country).
4. White Rock and gelato and fish and chips on a day with endless blues.
5. Degrassi commercials that make you cringe.
6. Canadian music scene (so hot right now). I'll never forget all the sweetness I experienced in Montreal this summer. Endless stars, live music, flip flops, people of every shape and size and so many tongues (but mostly French). And lawn chairs. Yes, lots of those.
7. People drive around with those hockey flag things sticking out of their windows. I should make some up that say Jane Austen.
8. Summer evenings that begin with some tasty food from Commercial Drive, then move into big white tents at Bard on the Beach, and end with a blanket thrown over driftwood on Jericho Beach to conclude with Symphony of Fire.
9. Tim Hortons. Oh how I love thee, oh roll up the rim. And then I hate thee, oh bastards of please play again. (I've cut back to one sugar from two in my coffee - that's my idea of a diet)
I'm gonna leave it at nine reasons, just for kicks and giggles. And cuz I want to watch TV and laze on the couch.
P.S. Andy made the most delicious ice cream concoction. I normally give him a really hard time for his, ahem, creativity in the kitchen. Tonight, however, he made me eat my words with every bite of his vanilla ice cream topped with a crushed Lindor chocolate ball, some banana, a shot of coffee (brewed this morning), and a Sweet 'n Salty peanut butter granola bar crumbled on top. It tasted a bit like that pie. What's it called again?
1. Beer flows like raging rivers of honey droplets.
2. We can make racially colourful comments. For example, ah shoot, I can't write down any of the examples. I made three today BY ACCIDENT.
3. Rita MacNeil (the artist and the country).
4. White Rock and gelato and fish and chips on a day with endless blues.
5. Degrassi commercials that make you cringe.
6. Canadian music scene (so hot right now). I'll never forget all the sweetness I experienced in Montreal this summer. Endless stars, live music, flip flops, people of every shape and size and so many tongues (but mostly French). And lawn chairs. Yes, lots of those.
7. People drive around with those hockey flag things sticking out of their windows. I should make some up that say Jane Austen.
8. Summer evenings that begin with some tasty food from Commercial Drive, then move into big white tents at Bard on the Beach, and end with a blanket thrown over driftwood on Jericho Beach to conclude with Symphony of Fire.
9. Tim Hortons. Oh how I love thee, oh roll up the rim. And then I hate thee, oh bastards of please play again. (I've cut back to one sugar from two in my coffee - that's my idea of a diet)
I'm gonna leave it at nine reasons, just for kicks and giggles. And cuz I want to watch TV and laze on the couch.
P.S. Andy made the most delicious ice cream concoction. I normally give him a really hard time for his, ahem, creativity in the kitchen. Tonight, however, he made me eat my words with every bite of his vanilla ice cream topped with a crushed Lindor chocolate ball, some banana, a shot of coffee (brewed this morning), and a Sweet 'n Salty peanut butter granola bar crumbled on top. It tasted a bit like that pie. What's it called again?
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