Honeymoon Days

My first week in Glasgow has passed in a blurry haze. If you're looking for details on the actual journey from the T Dot, see here. Beans and VBF and VBF's husband (VBFh) were all at the airport to greet me. There was a lot of hugging and kissing all around, after they'd finished pointing and laughing at me being wheeled out of course. Its all about priorities.

Beans' apartment is right in the city centre, just a 15 minute ride from the airport on the express bus. North American cities, something to think about eh? A hot shower and large serving of good Irish stew later and we were ready to head out to the pub. No, seriously - we had to. It was a friend's birthday and the gang was meeting at the pub for pints. As I sat there and looked around the table at the chatting, laughing, drinking group around me. Except for the change in faces and accents, I could still be back in the T Dot sitting around with the gang at one of our fav spots. A most surreal experience.

Beans had the next day off thanks to a very nice and sympathetic boss who understood that we might just want some time together after being apart for the past 5 months. Apparently she told Beans that he was no good to her if he were at work but his brains were at home. Beans insists she said "brains and balls" but I'm thinking not. In any case, whatever she did say, Beans was home and we did have a lovely time... ahem.... catching up. So many stories to share..............

I finally got down to working on Friday morning after the boy left for work - which is a 10 minute walk away. I could be as lucky when I finally find a job and place of my own! 5 straight hours of typing later, I was jarred to reality by the phone ringing and Beans telling me to come meet him and his colleague at the pub around the corner. Turns out that his company had decided to close shop early that day in honour of the Glasgow Fair weekend and the lads were celebrating with a little dram. Feeling like I truly deserved a break after my morning of hard work, I toodled off. Many hours later we staggered out of the pub, said goodbye to the lads and headed off to grab a bite in an attempt to soak up some of the alcohol coursing through our veins! And then since we were still in a tizzy mood we walked over to the Cineplex to grab the late night showing of Harry Potter 6 before getting home and crashing.

Saturday dawned much too early - but there was loads to be done in preparation for the birthday BBQ for the Short Angry Bastard (SAB). SAB's gf JellyCake showed up early (way early) with all sorts of food and drink goodness and we all got cracking with various preps. The guests started to show up around 2pm - each bringing more food and drinks - and the party reigned supreme until well after the sun had set on the city that night.

After the previous day's excitement, Beans and I had a well deserved lie in on Sunday. Really, we were trying to put off the inevitable cleaning that follows all good parties! Still, between the two of us (and the blessed dishwasher!) we'd gotten everything cleaned, shined and put away before settling down to a nice bottle of vino rouge and a DVD.

On Monday morning, we surveyed the colossal amount of left over food in the fridge and promptly invited SAB and JellyCake over for a post mortem BBQ lunch. Plans were made with VBF and VBFh to meet at the nearby bowling alley for a round or two later in the afternoon. Yours truly disgraced herself with multiple gutter balls in the first round, but improved considerably in round 2. I maintain that the first round was just a warm up..... the others didn't seem to be buying that! Ah, well!

And so, we are at today. Beans is back at work. I'm alone in the apartment with a cup of coffee sitting before the laptop starting on the long long long scan of the interweb in hopes of finding that one job that is out there waiting for me. Its bound to be a tiresome road, but the fact that I'm here, with Beans instead of being an ocean apart makes the prospect of the long days ahead all the more bearable. My toe still isn't healed, but I think I've found my silver lining at last.

Effective Communication 101

The scene: Facebook Chat
The players: A cousin and myself
The situtation: Talking about my move (like any other conversation happens these days!)

Cousin M: So what's all this I hear about you moving?

Me: Yup. I leave in a few days.

Cousin M: You're going to England? London right?

Me: No. Glasgow.

Cousin M: Where's that? Is it a city?

Me: Yup. Scotland.

Cousin M: Is that in England?

Me: (a little confused now) er, no... I'm going to SCOTLAND. Glasgow is a city in SCOTLAND.

Cousin M: Is that in the same country?

Me: Technically, yes.

Cousin M: So you're going to England then! Why didn't you just say so in the first place?

Me: Er, I have to go. Packing.... etc... you know. Bye.

2 days later. Same place. Same bat channel. Different relative.

Cousin C: I heard from cousin M that you're moving. All the best. England right?

Me: *sigh*............

Wanted: Vampire Assistant and Cauldron Makers

From being in recruiter mode over the past two months, I have now switched over to the other side of the fence - job seeker. Although the overall situation seems dismal at first glance, I have been finding interesting HR positions as well as some other interesting project coordination type roles.

And it also appears that even though organizations may be posting for fewer opportunities, the ones that are being posted are certainly, erm..... intriguing!

Take Project Manager - Scrum Master for example, which incidentally I first read as "scum" and thought that it could either mean mico-biological research or working in a law firm.

Or Heavyweight Senior Business Project Manager; would you have to submit your vital stats for this posting? And certainly, no Nicole Ritchie's wanted!

And then there's this position that is actually with Beans' organization - Clerical Assistant, Twilight Post which honest to goodness sounds like a vampire coven is recruiting!

But the one that took the prize was an advert for a witch (yes, you read right) at a tourist site in Somerset. It wasn't the job functions that made me pause - live in a cave, be a witch, do things witches do. It wasn't the candidate requirements either - must be able to cackle, cannot be allergic to cats.

It was the salary.

Apparently the going rate for a first class, live-in witch at a tourist site is an astounding 50,000 GBPs. I wonder if it is hazard pay for occupational inconveniences such as occasionally being hunted down by mobs of angry villagers and potential burning at stakes?

Teenage Angst Revisited

As if the stressors described in the last post weren't enough, today my entire family descended on our house for a Canada Day/Farewell to Me party. Thankfully although we had rain clouds that moved in and out all afternoon, the actual rain held off and we could enjoy the day out in the back yard.

Apparently my body is not liking all of these recent stressors any more than I am. I woke up this morning with 3 strategically placed pimples on my mug. Terrific.

All of my family took pics with me today. Me and my 3 new pals. What a great remembrance!

This *could* be terrible

Why is it that the closer you are to life altering events, the more the potential for things to do drastically wrong? Is there some sort of warped timing fairy that decides to send along stress to ADD to existing stress? Why can't she just space it all out? As if its not enough that in a mere 15 days I leave my home, family, friends and most importantly steady employment to head off into the literal unknown. Now, add a slowly imploding Maternal Unit, stir in ambiguity around a bank statement that tells me I have $10,000 LESS than what I should have in my bank account and a garnish with a potential life altering injury to that mix, and you have the perfect cocktail a la Murphy's Law.

Although I'm (fairly) sure that the bank thingy is just an error and will sort itself out, I'm not that confident about the injury. Right now, it hurts too much and I'm petrified that its going to affect my departure AND my dancing. Both are equally important.

It all began a few weeks ago when I left dance class feeling that things were not quite OK with the big toe on my right foot. It felt like it needed to "crack" but try as I may, I couldn't get it to do so and that meant that every step I took caused a sharp pain in my foot.

I hobbled around for a day bemoaning my fate, but positive that it would "crack" and all would be well. Sure enough, 2 days later I was flexing my feet and felt the toe release and then there wasn't any pain as I walked.

Perfect!

Then, yesterday at dance class I did a routine spin turn and felt a sharp stabbing pain shoot through my entire foot like a white hot iron had been pushed against my toe. The pain was just too much and I had to leave class. Somehow I got home.

It was slightly better this morning, but again, I thought it would just sort itself out, so I headed out to work. By the time I got off the subway downtown, my foot was throbbing so much that I could feel the vibrations in my neck! The closest chiropractor was luckily across the road from my office and I headed over.

He poked. He prodded. He asked me a hundred questions.
He moved my foot right, and then left.
He made me flex up. And then down.
He took a tuning fork and held it to my toe. I was tempted to sing in the key of C sharp.

He looked up. I held my breath.

Its a strained tendon, maybe even torn. You'll be in pain for a while, but it will heal and then everything should be ok.

I beamed, and started to breathe normally again.

Rest it as much as possible, ice it regularly and no dancing for at least 2 months.

There goes my performance dance next week. 3 months of practice down the crapper. And that's barely enough time for me to recover before the trip to Israel - that guarantees a lot of walking around. And HOW am I going to get all of my packing and last minute preps done if I'm supposed to not walk around at all?

There's just too much cloud right now. I can't find the silver lining.

The First of Many

Got a call from my friend the Professor last week. He told me he was heading out to India to visit his brother. I'm leaving on Friday he said. We have to meet before that - can't go 2 years without a proper meet up and a last pint together!

And so, after work today, I headed over to The Artful Dodger on Isabella street and we met and talked and laughed and remembered. We'd met almost 7 years ago; I was hired by York's International department to run one of their student programs, he was hired to be my right hand. It was a bit of a rocky start, but we worked through our differences and ended up friends. Real friends. The kind that last and endure.

His girlfriend joined us later. A young little thing with the glow of graduation still on her. She's so perfect for him, and I love seeing how great they are together. Excited about her first trip to India, she chatters on asking about this... about that...

Finally it was time. The hands on the clock had be marching steadily as we sipped our pints. I stood up to leave and took an astonishingly long time to gather my belongings, delaying the moment.

A hug to Freckles. Email me if you need anything - like shopping tips! Then over to Professor. He envelopes me in a big hug. I find myself tearing up. Take care of yourself I whisper. Be nice to Freckles. She's good for you. Without her you'll probably go back to being a bastard - more so than usual - and I won't even be around to kick some sense into you.

He nodded, but still I didn't let go. I gave him a quick kiss and left. I didn't look back. It was too hard. Besides, I didn't want them to see that I was crying.

The cool night air stung my cheeks as I walked over to the subway. I took a deep breath to steady myself and thought - this was only the first. How was I to get through all the others?

A Cinderella Story

Once upon a time, there lived a little brown girl with beautiful hair called Pixy. She was a smart and sassy little thing, always ready to laugh and loved - just loved - to dance.

Pixy's cousin was about to be married. It was going to be a big family affair. She really really really wanted to look half decent at this wedding and so she asked her friend - the brilliant and talented Niffer - to help her out. She showed Niffer an old sari that belonged to her grandmother and Niffer agreed to make her something wedding worthy out of it.

Last week, Pixy dropped by Niffer's place to try on the creation. It was BEAUTIFUL. A simple pattern that was brought to life by the rich vibrant colours of the sari and the intricate gold embroidery. Pixy tired it on and felt like a princess; Niffer had waved her magic over the cloth and turned it into a living wonder. The result was almost overwhelming for the Pixy girl who usually stumbled around in ratty jeans and T-shirts. She couldn't wait for the wedding next week.

But this would not be a fairy tale without a horrid twist - would it? And here's that twist.

Pixy came home yesterday and was informed by her mother that the skirt came back from the dry cleaners - but was absolutely ruined. The entire bottom embroidery had disintegrated and some of the seams had ripped as well. There was no way she was wearing that. Ever.

She surveyed the disaster.

And then, fled to her room where stormy tears flowed freely. Pixy had set her heart on "looking nice" and now, that was all ruined. She cried for seemed like hours. For the lost chance, for the wasted material, for the lost effort on Niffer's part.

Perhaps she was over reacting. After all, it was just a dress.... and in the whole scheme of things not important. But it didn't feel like so to Pixy.

And so, she went to bed that night thinking about how she almost had the chance to live the fairy tale, but now there would not be a happily ever after.

Social Reject

In an effort to dodge the lady who I inadvertently called a fatty, I decided to try out a Wednesday night class instead.

After making sure that fatty lady wasn't in class, I settled down to follow the routines and to my immense surprise I found that I wasn't getting as winded as I usually did. When the instructor dismissed the class, I caught her eye and beamed. Did you enjoy the class?, she asked.

Oh very much!, I gushed back. I was so happy to find that I'm not totally winded right now like I usually am after a pilates session. I guess I'm just getting better at exercising for an hour - and that's good right?

Yes, of course, she replied. But this was a 45 minute class.

*sigh* I just cannot win here.

The Weakest Link

About a month ago, I sent out a mass email to all of my friends in and around the T Dot asking them to keep the evening of July 11 free for my last big night in the city. A couple of days later, Trippy and the Lady Killer politely but very firmly told me that that was the extent of the planning for me. I was to hand over a list of invitees to them and they would take it from there.


That's what I did (coz LK threatened to sit on me if I didn't) but boy is the suspense killing me! Though, as Beer Baron stated its not so much the suspense as much as my inability to be part of the planning process that has given me a nervous twitch and made me occasionally break out into hives. I am not good with lack of control. But then again, you dear reader knows this!


On Saturday as Beans and I were having one of our usual weekend marathon Skype conversations he mentions that an email from Trippy has just come in. Its about your farewell party, he said and started to read out the email. Stop, STOP!!! I hollered. I'm not supposed to know the details!!!! That shut him up, but then he proceeded to read the email and interject things like oh that's interesting and I think you're going to be pleasantly surprised at the venue and oh my! Don't wear anything new that night...... which of course just drove me crazy, which I suspect was what he was aiming for all along. Still, I decided to take the high road on this one and although I was DYING to know, I changed the topic and put the party right out of my mind.


Of course that zen like calm lasted all of one day after which I started casually questioning friends about whether they had gotten the invite (just to check if they'd gotten it of course), and mentioned that if they WANTED to tell me anything about the party, I'd be more than happy to not mention that I got it from them......


No good. Either they looked at me blankly and said that they just noticed the date but not the details, or they looked at me blankly and said what party? or they looked away and started talking about other things in a high pitched voice.


In desperation, I went back to Beans promising him all sorts of sexual favours if he would only just tell me something, ANYTHING about the party. Instead he pointed out that after 5 months apart I would be ready to do anything anyway. Humph! True.


Oh well, I have about a month. SOMEONE's going to crack sooner or later.

I think.

I hope!

And the Embarrassment Continues.....

Unwilling to let my previous experience at Pilates deter me from achieving that flat(er) tummy that I craved and the mind-body balance that I was so obviously lacking, I headed off to my second class yesterday. Determined not to find myself in the same predicament as the last time, I had carefully monitored what I ate all day and was confident that there was nothing in me that would feel the need for er... manifestation as I did the exercises.

On entering the room I found myself in a sea of blonde haired, size -0 Lululemon wearing girls. while my $15 Walmart pants seemed to scream bargain basement in comparison. Also, how was it that these girls who were supposedly dressed down for an exercise class looked more put together than I did when I went out to meetings with clients? But I was a little late, and the instructor was already calling for attention, so I hurriedly unrolled my mat and decided to ponder the mysteries of creation another time.

Just as the class was about to begin, another student ran in and settled herself just behind me. As we worked our way through the hour I could tell that she seemed to be having the same kinds of problems as I with understanding the exercises and holding certain poses; and I was oddly comforted by this! At the end of the hour I turned to her and with a big beaming smile said, Oh, I'm SO glad you were in class today! At least there was someone else in here that wasn't thin as a rail!
As she straightened up to face me, I could feel all of the blood drain away from my face. Oh no! I'd basically just called a perfect stranger a fatty!!! That sentence had sounded WAY better in my head, but it was too late. I'd said it. It was out. And in a second she would process what I said and think I was the rudest person alive!

Mumbling incoherently about having to leave, I ducked out of the room as fast as I could get around the other students. Not wanting to risk meeting her in the changing room I took my bags and scampered right out of the building thinking that perhaps the fart would have been the lesser embarrassment after all.

How to Spot an Eejit: The Recruitment Model

The past few weeks at work have been particularly interesting for me as I'm in the process of winding down operations, handing over key clients to my colleagues and also recruiting for my replacement as well as 2 other newly created positions in my company.Sidebar: Isn't it nice to actually hear of a company expanding in these gloomy times? So many people have commented on how unusual it is to hear about a Non Profit expanding right now, but we're doing well and actually our services are more in demand than ever!
Anyway, I degrees. Back to the recruiting.

I've done a fair bit of recruiting over the years both here as well as in previous jobs. Although the actual interview part is fun - you get meet all sorts of interesting peeps - the lead up to that can be a painful process akin to pulling teeth! The past few weeks have been an endless run of creating job descriptions, scanning resumes and trying desperately to find the good ones from amongst the mountains of rubbish. And I do mean mountains given that so many people are out about job hunting right now and a lot of those have the idea that they'll just apply to every and all postings in the HOPE that someone out there will give them a call.
Well, that's just the very worst approach to a job hunt in my (humble) opinion and all it does is piss off the person who has to wade through all the rubbish resumes. In this case, ME.
Still, every now and then I do find a resume that makes me pause. Not so much because the person has a great skills set or an amazing cover letter, but more because of the absurdity of the statements in the resume or appalling and very obvious grammar and spelling errors and (best of all) outright pleas to be considered for the position.
Really? You want to apply for a management position where you'll be overseeing projects and liaising with external clients and you start out by begging??? Really?
The list of stupid statements is endless, so I've tried to narrow it down to the gems of the lot. Like the guy who began is cover letter with a "Good Morning Madam, I hope you are enjoying the sun." Of course, this would have been a lovely greeting had the sun actually been shining on the day I read his application instead of the torrential downpour that soaked me on my way in to work that morning. Or the candidate who stated that they had "tactile AND hands on experience with managing projects". I wanted to call him back and offer him a new thesaurus.
Then there was the guy who was "affortless" at integrating new solutions to old problems. And while we're talking about problem solving skills, let's not forget the candidate who declared that she possessed "extra traditional yet creative" problem solving skills. My thought - huh?
And let's not forget the plethora of unprofessional emails attached to these applications like chyna_gurl@xxx.com, jediking@abc.com and my personal favourite, pushtheenvelop@123.com

In spite of the obvious frustration around having to sum up one's entire professional life into 2 or 3 concise pages, I still think that resume writing is essentially simple.
Don't write it in all caps, do spell check, and most certainly don't list drinking as a hobby.

Solicitations

I've just been given a much delayed (but still appreciated) birthday gift in the form of a $25 coupon to The Evil Empire of Chapters. I won't go though my entire rant how how I hate to shop there (again), but free books are free books and I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. (No Shopaholic, I'm not calling you a horse)

I did make a solemn vow that I will NOT buy any more books prior to my departure, but again, free's free and besides, I'm not hanging onto that vouchers until I get back in 2 years!

So, I'm cordially soliciting advice from my readers on what book I should purchase. And why!

Socially Awkward Moment # 653

I've been recently reading about a blogger friend's travels in the land of the leprechaun and apart from the description of the beauty of the hills and little towns and general countryside, she's been talking about the food! Apparently, in Ireland, a guest is not being properly treated unless he/she is being constantly plied with food and drink in large (and alarming) quantities. In that respect I guess Irish people are very similar to my Nana! Beans has told me much about the legendary Irish breakfasts (2 fried eggs, 2 rashes of bacon, 2 sausages, 2 fried tomatoes, white pudding, black pudding and coffee. Followed by a light serving of cardiac arrest) that he regularly consumes. But the part that most worried me is that I was going to be living with him for a month or so, and what wretched effect was all that food going to have on me???? Of course, as luck would have it I'm dating Mr. High Metabolism himself and in spite of stuffing his face silly with all sorts of fried foods washed down with copious amounts of Guinness, the boy is irritatingly thin as a... well.... beanpole!

Just as I was pondering my inevitable oversized fate, I get a call from the yoga studio down the road to remind me that I had a prepaid card of 18 classes that I had bought last year and it was about to expire in August. Eureka! I'd go back to the studio and use up the card before I leave so that even if I bloat horribly after, at least I'd get to Scotland looking reasonably good!

And so, I set off to my first class yesterday after work.
Pilates Mat? Check!
Water bottle? Check!
Workout clothes? Check!
Can-do attitude? Double check!

Five minutes into the class I realised why I'd stopped going to Pilates in the first place.

For starters, I couldn't figure out if I was supposed to be breathing in or out at specific points and most of the time I was just trying to catch my breath if anything. Also, I didn't really remember what any of the exercises or poses were called, so while everyone else was tranquilly doing deep breathing exercises while holding Angel Arms over a C Curve, I on the other hand was constantly secretly peeking through half closed lids to figure out what all that mumbo-jumbo meant! And in any case, I couldn't manage most of the exercises anyway coz my amply distributed fat kept getting in the way of me and the desired effect.

But the worse hit about half way through the class when I knew....just KNEW that I was going to fart! And there was not a damn thing I could do to stop it!

I tried to hold it in for as long as possible, but seriously have YOU tried to hold on to a *parp* while simultaneously doing what in effect is pumping you stomach up and down to create the air in the first place?? It's simply not possible.

Desperately I looked around. Serene pilates poses everywhere. I could feel it slipping out, and with every iota of my being I prayed that it was a silent killer and not a trumpet solo. At least with the former there was a chance of plausible deniability! And yes, I was trying to keep my features as neutral as possible. Even harder!

Thankfully, it was a silent one. Not sure if it were killer or not (since it went away from me) but as the minutes passed and no one reacted, I started to breathe again.

Not sure if that's what they meant by letting out your inner peace, but hell I'd take it!

Can you say F-U-G-L-Y?

My neighbours two doors down are a lovely congenial Sri Lankan family - Ma, Pa, 3 kids and Grandpa. They're always smiling and waving at folks who walk by. They send over sweets and delicacies to us on Hindu festivals. They are keen gardeners and in my personal experience people who are loving and nurturing gardeners, are generally loving and nurturing towards other human beings. They are quite and orderly and MOST IMPORTANTLY never hold loud rave parties. All key attributes you want in a neighbour.

The catch?

An unfortunate sense of home and garden decor. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

Ah well, could be worse I suppose. Right?

Starry Starry Night

On Friday night, I met up with a friend with whom I had not had ANY contact with for the past 2 years, but when we meet it was like no time has passed at all. Peaches (unfortunate name from his high school days that just stuck) and I caught up on each others adventures on a sun kissed patio over some fine brews and good food.

On Friday night after Peaches and I said goodbye, I headed over to a West Coast Swing dance and hit the floor for 3 hours straight. I wondered, how is it that I can be a sexy inhibited dancing QUEEN here, but am all legs and arms and awkward as hell each time I do the Rumba? Same level of "sexy" required for both dances. Huuuum.

On Friday night, I left the dance hall tired and sweaty and instead of hopping on the subway, I took a detour and a midnight streetcar ride. The driver had a little transistor radio on and the music of Cole Porter hummed gently.

On Friday night I finally got home at 2am and realised that Friday night was long gone. Saturday was here.

Midnight Madness

I am tired and listless and my eyes are incapable of staying open and focused. Been staring at the same email for about 15 minutes and trying to compose a sensible response. T'is all in vain. I need sleep, and I need it now!


Really, its not my fault. I went off to bed like a good girl at 10pm last night knowing that I had to be in at work for 8 am. I had just fallen asleep (or so it seemed), when the phone rang. Once, twice, three times..... long pauses in between telling my sleepy brain that it was a long distance call. Its too late for a telemarketer, so it can only mean that someone's calling about some bad news. I jump up and scramble for the phone and say a shaky Hello?


A cheery voice at the other end yodels, Pixy! I'm so glad you're home! How is everyone?? Somewhere in my brain, it registers. Aunty M? Is that you? What's going on? I start to panic as I recognise that it is my aunt from Australia. Was it my cousin's daughter? Was she ill again? Perhaps it was my uncle. We TOLD him to get help with the construction for the house extension. Or perhaps......


Listen, can you hear that? my aunt says. I snap back to the call. Can you hear it? Its rain. Just torrential!! Now I'm sleepy AND confused. You called me all the way from the Gold Coast to tell me about the RAIN? I asked incredulously. It's 1:15 in the fu*king morning!!!


Oh dear, I must have miscalculated, she said. I thought it was 10:15. No, I called to tell you I had a heart attack.


Turns out she'd had chest pains the week before and when they persisted, she drove to the hospital to find out what was wrong and was told she'd just had a heart attack. She was in the hospital 3 days then discharged and told that she'll need to start treatment to clear the 2 blockages in the valves. She nodded at them, left the hospital and then some days later got onto a plane and flew to the other side of the country for a wedding.


All this she told me in one breath. Then she asked me if I was ready for the move. Then she told me about how my cousins had gone into business together and bought a chain of stores. Then she told me to give my love to the family, bid me a cheery farewell and hung up.


Five minutes later I was still holding the phone to my ear.


I would have been utterly convinced that I was dreaming the entire time except for the dull pounding in my head that I knew was the onset of a headache. That was real enough. I switched off the light and tried to settle back to sleep, glancing at the clock.


2 am.


I thought, Tomorrow is going to be a pain filled day.

Dare to Dance!

One of the primary reasons I have enjoyed learning ballroom dancing over the past 2 years is the fact that the lessons are kept very entertaining thanks to the (unintentional) efforts of the head instructor. I'm going to call him Line Man based on how he's always going on and on about the "line of dance" and about the angles and lines in each of the dance steps.

Line Man is passionate about dancing - that much is evident. Sometimes though, he gets too caught up in the drama and passion of the dancing atmosphere and forgets that he's in a classroom. This results in him using some rather interesting terms and analogies to explain or break down the steps to the students.

Like yesterday for example at the Level 1 class where I am a teaching assistant. We were teaching them the very basics of the Tango which requires a rather close contact between the partners in order for the dance steps to be executed well. In many cases where the students are not a couple, getting them to attempt that level of closeness is challenging. This level 1 class was particularly timid. Even the couples in the class seemed adverse to the close contact of the dance and the results were shaky at best. I tried everything to get them to relax and loosen up, but even my best quirky one liners were being met with stony silence and I was beginning to have that distinct "Is this mic on?" feeling. Even Line Man seemed to be giving up, and in a final attempt to salvage some of the class he instructed everyone to just dance around the room using the steps that they'd just learned. He gave them one last piece of advice. This is the most manly of ballroom dances guys. Just push into her. Dare to go right between her legs.

There was a split second of pin drop silence, and then with one accord the entire class burst out into hysterical laughter. I am happy to report that most of them did follow the advice, and were able to execute the steps quite well for a "virgin" tango dancer!

Stupid Parents = Stupider Children. Help stop this cycle of destruction!!

By most accounts, Queen Victoria was a cranky old bat who lived and reigned far longer than she should have. Still, I cannot help but feeling a surge of love for the old girl every spring when we are graced with a much coveted day off on the 3rd Monday of May in celebration of her birthday.

I was supposed to head over to Shutterbug's place on Saturday for a pot luck + communal viewing of Eurovision 2009. Most ashamed to say that I had never even HEARD of Eurovision until she sent out the invite a few weeks ago and even then, I had to go google it! Who knew this had been going on for almost 50 years??? Beans scoffed at the whole concept, but was also quick to point out that Ireland had apparently won the most times! (funny boy!). Anyway, that's where I had planned to be on Saturday afternoon, thinking that it would a great addition towards my Preparing to Live in Europe series. But, life turned out differently and thanks to some majorly yucky sensations in my tummy I was huddled in bed until late afternoon. Texts back and forth t'ween Beans (who was in Ft. Williams at an Iron Man contest with some mutual friends) and I made me feel heaps better and by that evening.

Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful and it seemed a pity to waste such a glorious day indoors. A quick bout of calls to Beer Baron, Trippy and Lady Killer had us all heading out to the Toronto Zoo where we spent a de-lightful afternoon animal gazing. Not so de-lightful however was fighting our way through the crowds and crowds of families each with a couple of strollers that were close in size to a mini humvi! Apparently, "I have a kid" is a good enough reason for every parent to abandon all rules of polite social conduct - such as waiting in line - and push and shove ones way to the front. This would make sense in a situation with only ONE person with a kid/stroller such as at a bus stop or subway, but doesn't really work the same when about 20 people around you ALSO have over sized stroller filled offspring. Trippy and I kept hoping that a couple of the parents would get into an all out stroller battle and we would have been so ready with a play by play commentary!

The abundance of species Parentus Stupidus made us realize just why there are so many kids who grow up to be total douchbags; really, they cannot help it after the constant interaction with douchbag parents throughout the formative years of their life. Case in point, at the Artic Wolves paddock, Parentus Stupidus # 1 to her youngins: Oh look at the cute white doggie boys. His name is Wolf.

And a few years from now, we will hear about this same kid being mauled by a grizzly on a camping trip because he went to play with the little brown bear that was just like Teddy.

Old Wives' Tales

A very strange side effect of Bean's stomach flu has been his inability to stop hiccuping. Apparently it was so bad that he hardly got a wink of sleep last night and it continued all day today playing havoc with his work as well. One of his colleagues told him that its an old wives' tale that you hiccup when someone is thinking about you.

And so, I got a text message a while back that said I love you too, but for feck's sake can you think about something else for the next little while???

Revelation

The notice about my leaving went out to my colleagues on Monday. I was relieved because it was getting very awkward at work when people were wondering why I wasn't picking up projects that were directly related to my work and why at the beginning of the fiscal year it was announced that a lot of my major clients were being redistributed. I hadn't wanted to lie about my leaving, but until my VP made the official announcement there wasn't a damn thing I could do!

And yet, when I saw the email and read the announcement for myself, a chill went down my spine. This was it. Certainly no turning back now! The die was cast and in 57 days I would be unemployed! There was a certain *gulp* factor to that realization!

Then, logging in to Skype this evening I was met with a very low down and subdued version of my Beans who in a tiny tiny voice told me that he'd been sick all day, and for most of the night before. No need for details here, but any of you who've been through a bad bout of stomach flu will know what I'm talking about.

And as I listened to him, I knew that I didn't want to be this far away from the one I love. I wanted to be able to hold him and comfort him when things were wrong and to clasp his hands and dance around madly in the good times. This long distance thing was crap and thankfully in a mere 61 days I was going be with him again.

Written in the Stars

Flipping through the paper this morning, I saw that my horoscope advised that I ....go outside and claim the world. It will make you awake to the infinite possibilities out there.

Taking that into consideration, I took my lunch and sat outside in the brilliant sunshine and indulged in a favourite pass time - people watching.

Now, back in the office I am listless and sleepy from all that time in the sun. Wasn't this suppose to "awaken" me?

BFFs

Pursuing an Ancient Path

After a 4 hour conversation on Skype yesterday, Beans and I finally had our tickets booked and a tentative itinerary for our summer trip - or weekend wedding frenzy - to London and Israel in August. As it stands, we'll travel down to London on the evening of August 4 and meet up with Big T, Bean's brother with who we'll be staying. College pal Drama Queen (DQ) is getting married on the 7th and apart from celebrating the wedding of course, I'm looking forward to a mini reunion of a couple of college pals who are making the trek from Bombay, Bangalore and Boston.

The day after the wedding, Beans and I fly to Tel Aviv. Friend Shutterbug and her husband's Israeli wedding is the next day after which we have until August 18 to wander around doing touristy things.

On the agenda are visits to Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Galilee, Akkon and Haifa. We threw around the possibility of a quick visit to Petra in Jordan (think Indy Jones and last crusade) but soon realised that we would not be doing the place justice if we just skimmed in a out on a one day trip. Hence, Petra awaits us another day.

But, there's a lot to see and do in Israel, so I don't think we'll be bored. Also, Jules mentioned that she may be able to swing by and visit on the weekend seeing as she's in the neighbourhood, so that will be a whole other cool piece to look forward to.

Suggestions welcome!

The Answer

For anyone who has every wondered why dancing and travelling are my passions, here's why. I couldn't have expressed it better!

Enjoy!

Rude Awakenings

Drifting in and out of a comfortable Saturday morning dream, I could hear that pitter patter of the rain outside my window. I drew the comforter closer around me and burrowed deeper into the bed. An almighty clap of thunder jarred me right out of my reverie and brought the harsh light of day into focus.

Except, that that light was muted and subdued, even though the curtains were pulled back. I opened my eyes wider and saw that the sky was dark with angry clouds and the rain wasn't a pleasant pitter patter anymore, rather a vicious lashing force working with a wind that bent the maple tree to ominous angles. I was still taking this all in when I head a rumbling. Thunder, it wasn't. It sounded more like a monster version of a garbage truck was making its way down my street. I peered out of the bay window, puzzled.

And then, jumped back in alarm as hundreds upon thousands of missiles suddenly landed on the lawn in front of me with an intensity that made them bounce back up and slap against the window pane. For the next 5 minutes the air was filled with the rat-tat-tat of these heavenly bullets striking against the driveway, the sidewalk, the parked cars and the roofs.

And then, just as suddenly as it arrived, it ceased. The rain lessened to a muffled hum and then that too stopped. And only then did I creep back to the window to take stock of my battered world.
Pictures by a friend, LK.

Verdict

Ever since I made the decision to move, I've been going through a roller coaster ride of emotions. In the manic/excited phase, I dream about travelling across Europe, spending time with Beans and experiencing a wonderful world of new opportunities and encounters.

On the flip side, there are also the phases of abject terror where I envision myself having to peddle my wares on a street corner to pay the rent and (it gets worse) not even managing to get enough that way coz I'm not hooker-like enough! (I AM my own worse enemy aren't I?)

My most recent fear? That I'm nowhere NEAR stylish enough to live in Europe.

I told this to the Lady Killer when I met him last week. My extent of style is throwing on earrings or a necklace. That barely counts as style!

To which he replied, You're moving to Scotland love. That barely counts as Europe!

Back and Blue and Brown all over

A couple of weekends ago I helped Beer Baron and his lady love (LL) move into a new apartment conversion loft unit. Over 2 days, BB, Trippy, LL and myself hauled, moved, pushed and tugged at various pieces of furniture and umpteen boxes and other assorted odds and ends that left me with some spectacular bruises all over my arms, torso and legs. Some of these movable units included custom made red leather cowboy boots, 3 microwaves (when the new place has a built in one), 2 racer bikes (one of which has not been ridden in 3 years) and 4 egg cartons of hand painted 40 year old Ukrainian Easter eggs.

All moves have their up and downs, but this one was particularly eventful. Like when one of the couches slipped out of my hands on the way down the stairs and ended up pinning Trippy to the wall at the bottom. Or when we got to the new place and had the truck semi unloaded, the skies ominously darkened and a gale force wind took up whipping around any and all loose debris and pelting us with gravel from a nearby construction site. It was like being in a war zone and having shrapnel flying at us! If that wasn't enough, the wind somehow activated the fire alarm in not one, not two... but THREE adjoining buildings causing their collective sirens to ring for the next 20 minutes and then ring in our ears for the next 3 hours... give or take!

By day two, we were all physical and emotional wrecks so thankfully Lady Killer dropped by to help on Sunday afternoon or else there would have been a couple o corpses to add to the pile in their living room.

Somewhere in between, Beer Baron decided that it was getting too hot (this was pre storm) and with the aid of the moving dolly and the combined efforts of Trippy and LL he managed to get one of the loft windows open. The whole operation looked rather like a rehearsal for a Cirque du Soleil routine and of course, we HAD to take a picture!

It's been 2 weeks now and we're not sure if they've figured out how to close that window again!

Monster Accomplishments!

It is my privilege to announce that all 3 members of Team Leaping Badgers successfully completed the 73 mile Maggie's Monster Bike and Hike event this past weekend. The boys also raised over 3500 GBPs through online donations, auctions, sweepstakes, quizzes and some outright begging to family and friends.

Honestly, those lads are pleased as punch right now. And rightly so! Not only did they finish a really challenging event - 30 miles of biking, 43 hiking from Fort Williams to Inverness - they also surpassed their fundraising goal by a large margin! They should be very very proud of their accomplishments.

So Damn Proud.
Swollen head proud.
New Daddy proud.
Just nailed a supermodel proud!

Well.... you get the picture!

Look Who's Talking (Again)

This weekend was packed solid with a visiting out-of-town cousin, attending my first wedding shower that turned out better than expected (primarily because I won a game), Trippy's birthday celebrations that included some interesting interactions with a group of guys out on a stag night. And as icing on this festive weekend cake - comparing and executing games at a friend's daughter's communion party. I've only just returned from the party and am utterly pooped!

It did help that I had terrific hair ALL WEEKEND LONG. How rare is that!

Also, was pleasantly surprised to see two bloggers had returned after a long extended hiatus. CB/Mrs. Pirate and Miss Melville - glad to have you back.

The Darling Buds of May

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
- Sonnet XVIII, Shakespeare

Photos taken around my neighbourhood this sunny weekend afternoon.

Honesty

The Ex emailed me the other day to congratulate me on the upcoming move to Glasgow. He mentioned that he's started his own photography website as a side business and asked me to have a look. I know you have a good photographic eye and I'd like your opinion was what he said.


I took a look at the site. And then I was torn.


Was I supposed to give my opinion as a friend (wait, are we friends now? When did that happen?) or as a fellow photography enthusiast?

I chose the latter, and here's what I said:


You have a great eye for photography - that goes without saying. You are able to capture lighting and shadows to the best of your advantage and in the process capture a moment on film. Not many people have the skill to do that.

If you're motive is to photograph young ladies who all look like they're about to audition for the next issue of Sex Kitten, then fine. You're accomplishing your goal - and I'm sure they are as well.
Don't read on.

If however you are serious about photography and human subjects - you have a lot of work to do. There's nothing that distinguishes you (or your subjects for that matter) from the hoards of other "fashion" photographers out there.

Teach your subjects to showcase their talents and photogenic skills not with their wardrobe and bodies only - but with their face, their eyes, their expressions and overall body language. As a model, they should be capable of a range of emotions. Sex is a type of emotion, but there are a hundred others, and only one of the models managed to come up with a difference shot that set her apart from all the rest - and even she maxed out at 3 expressions.

Try working with an experienced shoot artist or art director to instruct the models and give the shoot a focus and a theme until you are comfortable (and experienced) enough to do both - photograph AND direct.

Watch, learn, read about other fashion photographers. I'm sure you will be able to improve your own style through their knowledge and experience. Attend workshops if you can. It will only help you gain further insight into your skills.

OK, that's my piece. Best of luck in your new endeavours.


Do you think I was giving him good advice? Or was I simply too harsh or worse - bitchy! Tell me readers - I'm agonizing right now!



*********Update*************

The Ex's email response:
Thanks for the constructive criticism. I don't get enough of it.
I agree with everything you've said. Most of this stuff is just fluff - often that's all the model wants. And, since I've been doing this, the main thing I've been concerned with has been the technical side of it, and coming up with consistent results. The most challenging part of the process is what you're talking about, and I know my work is lacking in that department. Hopefully I'll continue to improve...

*whew*
Thanks for your comments guys! Much appreciated!

Bother!

Just found out that this years Toronto Open Swing Dancing Championships are being held the weekend AFTER I leave for Thistle Towne.

Damn!

Now I won't be around to defend my title!

Fantasies

At dance class last week we were learning a new step in the Waltz that required the leaders to take 4 steps backwards and then turn and whip the followers around. The instructor was warning all the leaders to make full sure that the path was clear before attempting this move on a crowded dance floor.  

Think about your follower like a beautiful and expensive car. You don't want to damage any part of that body - do you? You're in the drivers seat and can do anything. Show off the car, but keep it safe.
To which, one of the guys replied, "So if we're pretending.... can we pretend this is a convertible and take the top off?"

Higher Education

My company can accept only a limited number of applicants each month for a specific internship program. Once those numbers have been met, a notice goes up on the website that says:

Thank you for your interest in the XX Internship program. All screening locations are now closed to further intake of candidates.
Registration will reopen on the 1st day of every month. Please try again at that time.
During the closure of the website we will not be accepting any new applications either by email or phone. We will be working on completing the screening of all our current registrants only.
We are unable to respond to individual inquiries but please watch this space for updates.

We recently received the following email:
To Whom It May Concern:
I am highly interested in the XX program and tried to register online on several occasions. However, the system does not allow me to do so. Was there a deadline I was not aware of to register?
Sincerely,
Ms. ABC
M.S. Economics.
M.A. International Affairs
Fulbright scholarship recipient

Me thinks, a refund to Fulbright is in order.

Happy Earth Day

Here's hoping that everyone will take a step towards a greener tomorrow. My contributions:

• Taking public transit - everywhere, every day
• Printing on the back of used paper at work. Works for all internal office documents
• Carrying my travel coffee mug and water thermos instead of paper cups and plastic bottles
• Always, always using cloth/reusable bags at shops and grocery stores
• Upgrading our furnace, fridge and oven to greener models
• Using less heating and AC by dressing warmer or lighter at home
• Adding to my garden - both indoors and outside
• Researching on recycling for every one of our household products - from batteries to bottles, electronics to eggshells!

After all, isn't all of this worth saving?

What are you doing for our planet?

The Second Date (or is it 3?)

Notice how I've managed to insert a pretty picture at the top of the blog? It didn't quite turn into the header bar that I wanted, but again, I will regard this as another date in the Technology and Me saga.

Again, if anyone knows how I can get it to look more like a header bar, by all means.... drop me a line. I'm ever willing to learn!

Oh, pretty picture courtesy of Shutterbug who snapped this on our weekend trip to Stratford in May last year.

Cameo

If you've been following the blog for a while, you already know that I have the capacity for some epic dreams. You only have to see here or here for proof. But last night, I had a first. A featured guest appearance by a blogger pal!

Yup, it was none other than Timorous Beastie who had a guest role in last night's dream sequence as a consultant helping me to kick off my new foundation to help kids with cancer. Beastie showed up at my dream office, plonked down (at my colleague's desk) and began typing out a launch plan for this new foundation. I believe she had everything decided in under 30 minutes after which she packed up and declared that she was leaving.

If that wasn't bizarre enough, that scene was followed by someone (I'm assuming me) interviewing Beastie re her cameo in my dream and asking her if she'd like to return. I don't remember the answer. I hope it was yes!

Take 2

Ok, so I figured out the embedding part.... now there's the size part to consider. And yes, I did try to change the height and width requirements - didn't work. Still, I will consider this a step towards ultimate techie success! Its not a sprint my dears.....







PS: "Figured out" consisted of following step by step instructions from Jules.

Irony

I'd been meaning to cancel my gym membership for some time now seeing as a) I would no longer need their services in Scotland and b) my dancing was giving me all the exercise I needed at this time.

Accordingly, I trotted off at lunch today to get the paperwork done. The customer service rep at the gym was obligated to ask me a laundry list of questions before he would just terminate my account. I was in a particularly cheerful mood, so I started off obligingly, but by page 3 boredom set in and I started making up answers. He must have sensed this - I had just stated that the dimensions of the yoga studio were not in accordance to my religion - and so asked if I could give him a final statement re my reason for discontinuing the membership.

My answer: I can now fit into a size 10 pair of jeans, and that is enough to make me happy.

I left the gym and walked into the Tim Horton's next door and bought a chocolate doughnut.

Hand of God

As my wretched cold continued into today as well and forced me into house arrest for the second day in a row, I looked back on some of my travel pictures and found these I'd like to share. Taken on my second day on the Gold Coast, one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever witnessed.

Much Needed Cheer

My friend Maestro sent me this to cheer me up when he heard that I was at home and suffering from the sniffles and frog-in-the-throat syndrome. I thought I should share the love.

Enjoy!

PS: Can someone tell me how I can upload the video right into the blog post? My tech skills are limited as you all know!