The season of crisp air, falling leaves, and, it seems, layoffs

I was talking with one of my colleagues this morning who thinks her husband might be laid off this afternoon. He has a departmental meeting at 3, and the head of HR is on the attendee list.
That is never good.
Apparently, he wasn't too concerned about it - just thought it was some kind of strategy meeting or whatever - but she reminded him that, "uh honey - I work in HR. Trust me: a 3:00 meeting with everyone and HR is never a good thing."

He's been there for 15 years, so if he is laid off, at least he'll get a good package. And she has a great stable job, so she's not worried at all. She was just surprised by his naiivte, considering that he's been married to her for 20 years and during that time has heard many stories of re-orgs and layoffs. He should know how these things go. A 3:00 meeting usually means that either everyone's being let go at once, or everyone's in the meeting while a few people are noticably absent - being informed of their termination and cleaning out their desk in peace, without the humiliation of having the rest of the department watching.

What is it about this time of year that means layoffs for companies? I wonder if statistically, the fall is a really common month for re-orgs (or "reinventions", as the Internet Franchise called it). It was the first week of November when the Internet Franchise unceremoniously laid off HALF of its employees (me not one of them), and it was the middle of last October that Insurance Hell laid off 4 out of a 14-person team (3 of them being my Communications colleagues) and again, I was spared the pink slip but given loads of extra work (super). I wonder.

Man, am I ever glad I'm not being laid off right now. I actually like my job. I like my boss. I feel that I'm doing meaningful work and I'm recognized for my contributions. It's almost unreal. And she keeps telling me that I'm not allowed to quit, because she'd go crazy. Hooray for job stability :)

A veritable birthday bonanza

My husband's 29th birthday was on Sunday - Friday kicked off what will be a 3-week birthday fest for him involving no fewer than 6 birthday meals with family and friends. This is not because he's some kind of egomaniac who expects the world to revolve around his date of birth (I'm the egomaniac in this relationship, not him) but because... well, just because. Let me list:

1. Friday dinner - birthday with wife
2. Saturday dinner - birthday with friends
3. Sunday lunch - birthday with parents and one sister
4. Sunday dinner - birthday with other sister
5. following Saturday dinner - birthday with crazy mother-in-law
6. following Saturday dinner - birthday with father- and brother-in-law

That doesn't include colleagues from current and previous contracts who wanted to meet up for lunch in honour of the occasion. It's madness.

Anyway, his birthday made me think back to last year at this time. I was trying to write some awful article for Insurance Hell and was going mental. I had stayed up all night writing it, and when I went into work, found out that the manager who had approved the topic hadn't gotten VP approval, and now I had to start from scratch on a new, but equally awful and difficult topic that needed to be approved and submitted to the magazine by noon the next day. One of my managers told me, "I hate having to tell you that you'll have to work on this tonight, but you'll need to manage the approvals process, incorprating changes and such tonight so we can meet our deadline." I was nearly in tears in his office, because that night was my husband's birthday dinner and I couldn't miss it and I have spent way too long on this awful thing and and and...

And I'm so glad I'm not there anymore. My new job is awesome. That is all.

On seasons and birthdays and refusing to get older

I haven't blogged in ages, for no one reason in particular. Nothing important, really - just a combination of being busy at work (which is where I normally blog from), getting a new router at home and not being able to RDP to my home computer from work until it's configured correctly (I'm not dumb enough to blog on my work computer - I always connect to home first), and just being busy. I can't believe it's September. This weekend has been cool - and all of a sudden it feels like fall. I'm not ready for fall.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the autumn as a season. In fact, I quite like it: the crisp air, pretty colours, relaxing weekends (that aren't pre-booked with summer barbeques), pulling cozy sweaters out of hiding and (yes, I'm a girl) shopping for new boots. But there's something ominous about autumn, despite its perks. I know that, no matter how much I wish on a star, winter (that bitch) follows right behind. Autumn is always too short - just when I'm getting into the 'wear a light jacket' swing of things, I wake up one morning to find that Nirvana had it right: Mother Nature is, in fact, a whore. I hate winter. Have I mentioned that before? Hate. I have a December birthday, which has really ALWAYS sucked.


When I was a kid, my friends had these great birthday parties - Becky had pool parties in July. We went apple picking and horseback riding with Bev in October. Even my brother's April birthdays were fun, because sometimes (just sometimes) he'd let me come with him and his friends down to the creek to play by the definitely polluted waters looking for slimy things. But not me. No, I got to go skating (I hate being cold). Or to the movies (to this day, not my favourite thing in the world - I'd rather be outside, actually *talking* to my friends, not sitting in the dark looking forward). Then I just started having indoor parties - sleepovers with the girls. Fun, yes - but not as fun as horseback riding, that's for damn sure. Through University, my birthdays generally sucked, because they were right in the middle of academic hell - my English major friends were frantically writing essays. My friends in other programs were stressing about December exams. Asstastic. We always managed to go out, but there was always an air of "I should be doing something else right now - or I'm going to fail Modern British Lit."


Now that I'm older, birthdays are even less exciting. I live in Toronto, and most of my family & friends are still in London. So that means that I either get to brave the snow-filled 401 to go see them, or, as I tried last year, have my family up here to our place. That was a fiasco. My mom made a big stink about 'I have to drive all by myself..." sob sob drama drama. My sister-in-law made a huge stink for months that we wouldn't be in London for her daughter's birthday party (the date for my party was 5 days after her birthday - and only 1 day before mine. Sorry. Whatever. We were in town the weekend before for the other daughter's party and would be again for every other effing weekend of our lives, so shove it) It was so much un-fun start to finish. My mom and I got in a fight so huge that I told her that fine, I don't want to celebrate, fuck it. Don't come. Whatever. Sorry to put you out because I want to have family up to our place to entertain in our new condo because we finally have room to do so, but if it puts you out that much to drive to Toronto (though we drive there every other weekend), fine. She apologized begrudgingly, but it was a sour party, nonetheless.


So this year, I'm thrilled that I won't be in the country for my birthday. If I'm not here, it doesn't happen. We'll be in India for over 2 weeks, missing not only my birthday, but the two nieces and one nephew on my husband's side as well. Done and done. One trip to India wipes out 6 family celebrations/obligations (3 kids' birthdays + my birthday with my mom, my dad, and my in-laws). Wicked. We'll buy the kids extra-super birthday gifts to make up for missing theirs, but I've decided to just skip mine this year altogether. It's my party and I can skip it if I want to.

Maybe if I just close my eyes and hope, winter won't happen either...?
I'd love to have spring, summer fall.... and then spring again. And hey, since I'm wishing for the unthinkable, can I just stop getting older if I stop having birthday parties? If only...

Why?

Why?? Why would anyone do this? Should there be instructions for this type of thing?

1. Use last bit of toilet paper

2. Take new roll from holder thingy

3. Remove empty roll and replace with new roll.

Not that difficult, if you ask me.

Daphne's about to lose it.

I am so tired of US politics. I live in Canada, and am damn proud that I'm not American, and these horrendous elections are just one example of why I think the US is self-important and over the top.

Suffice it to say that I feel that pretty much everything surrounding the US presidential election is as flashy and over the top. I'm not going to write much more about it, because really, I'm Canadian. It's their country (thank god, not mine), they can rah-rah as much as they want.

I'm just really tired of hearing it all the time. I've blogged before about how obsessed my husband has been about this election that is not ours, and it seems that, despite my best hopes, he's getting MORE interested in it as time goes on. I don't know how much more I can take of it - I'm now reading in bed at night with my iPod on so I can drown out the noise of the TV in the other room. I'm going mental.

I can see that my husband is clearly addressing me, but all I can hear is "Wwah wwah wwah Obama. Wwah wwah wwah Clinton. Wwah wwah wwah election wwah wwah McCain."
I Don't Care. Please stop trying to make me. I don't care if Obama's wife spoke well, or if Clinton's supporting him enough, or if McCain really is just Bush again.
I DON'T CARE.

It's not even just that it doesn't interest me - it goes beyond a general disinterest. It actually makes me angry. Why can't he be obsessed with something less irritating - like collecting figurines or speaking in Vulcan? ANYTHING would be better than this.
I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I miss the days when he'd watch wrestling or UFC and try to explain to me why the 'story behind the story' is what's interesting. Those were the days...

And not once was I told "Remember, you're still on probation!"

So yesterday marked the end of my 6 month probation at the Publisher - yay me! I can't get fired without notice anymore! Not that there was any threat of that here, really. Working in a really functional and fair HR team has its perks.

I went for 2 hour lunch with my boss yesterday to commemorate the end of my probation and to discuss my career path, bring up any issues, etc. and basically, everything's awesome. She asked what 's going well - I said, "my job." She asked what she can do differently or more/less of to be a better manager for me (!) and I said, "let's just keep doing what we're doing." I asked if she's had any feedback on me - positive or negative - that I could use constructively and she said, "I've heard nothing but postive about you - and I try to always pass that along when I hear it."

This place was made for me. It's freaking me out... in a really good way.

So now, I'm going to go see if she wants to get a coffee - just because she's great.

This is by no means my first 'adult' job, but it's certainly the first time I've felt like an adult at a job. I'm not faking it, hoping nobody will notice. I'm not doing the bare minimum because I know I'll want to jump soon. I'm not just getting what I can out of it in order to build my portfolio. I'm actually looking at this job as a CAREER. That's both scary and comforting... it's a weird mix, but it works for me (being the dichotomy that I am).

A little from column A, a little from column B

I’ve always been a walking dichotomy – that’s not new. I’ve never wanted to be just one thing – I want to be that, and the opposite at the same time. It makes perfect sense to me, but I can see that it could be confusing for people trying to figure me out.

I don’t want to be an adult, but I want to be taken seriously like one.
I’m outgoing and gregarious, but I need to be alone just reading or writing to keep myself feeling like me.
I’m a raging feminist, but love the ‘womanly’ things feminists often rage against (I like that I’m *able* to use my sewing machine, but don’t expect me to *use* it!)
I love traveling alone, but then want everyone to share my experiences, somehow.

My husband pointed out another one in Saskatchewan this weekend that I hadn’t thought of before.

I’m a city kid, through and through… until I’m on the farm.

I was showing him around my grandparents’ farm on Friday, wanting him to love the barn and the cows and the wheat fields as much as I do. He just stopped and said, “This is so weird for me – I’d never picture this as you.”

I grew up in a city – my dad’s from Saskatchewan, but moved to Toronto when he was 18 to go to tech school. He didn’t want to take over the family farm, though he was the oldest son of 4. When we were kids, he took my brother and I out pretty much every summer to stay with his parents, hang with his brothers and cousins and their kids. We got into all kinds of trouble (mostly my brother, but me as well) and revelled in the way of life – so much to do, but nothing pressing. So many adventures, but nothing that needed to be accomplished. It was my home away from home, but couldn’t have been more opposite from the home I lived in the other 11 ½ months of the year. As soon as the plane landed in Regina, I was more than just the Ontario cousin – I was an out-of-province Prairie girl.

I had an awesome childhood. My days were carefree and fun, but what I remember most is those 2-3 weeks I spent out there each year, chasing barn cats, shooting tin cans with the 22, playing with my cousins, and roasting marshmallows at our cabin on the lake. That was the me I couldn’t be the rest of the year – just as real as the me I was in Ontario.

My husband has only ever known me as a city girl, besides the time we went to visit my best friend on her farm. He’s always known me as the girl with insensible shoes, who loves her lipgloss and misses her computer when she can’t check her email. But this weekend, I guess he saw the other half of me. He’s far more city than I am – he wasn’t at home out there in the slightest – but he tried, for me. He shot the 22 with me and my dad, he made s’mores for the first time in his life, he walked into the barn with me (but couldn’t understand why I loved the smell), he stared at fields of wheat. He had a good time, but just doesn’t love it they way I do. And that’s totally okay. We’re back in the city, in dress shoes at our desks, and all is well. I left one home for another, and that's okay.

Bright Eyed & Bushy Tailed

"Daphne, why the hell are you blogging at 6:20 in the morning on a Friday?"

Well, I'm glad you asked, dear readers.

I'm waiting for my husband to get the heck ready so we can leave the house. We're heading to Saskatchewan for the weekend (Friday -Monday) to visit my Dad's family. He's never met them, except for my Grandparents and an aunt & uncle at our wedding. There are a lot more of us, and he's in for a treat.

I believe I mentioned before that my husband is not particularly outdoorsy... in that he hates the outdoors. And I'm dragging him to a wheat farm on a gravel road in the middle of the prairies. Yay!

So excited. I used to go to Sask. every summer with my dad & brother when I was young, and I loved every minute of it. Dynamics have changed a bit (I likely won't be chasing the barn cats around or jumping on bales of hay) but the relaxation remains the same. Nothing to do, all the time in the world in which to do it.

Have a great weekend, all. I'm off to look at some fields of wheat (and hopefully get a few pictures of my husband on a tractor or something).

I should try harder (and slower) at learning

Today, I relearned a valuable lesson, for the 10th time (which probably means I should try harder at learning)

Do not try to things quickly, because you will mess them up

It was 10:15. I had a meeting set for 10:30 and an announcement to send out first, and I had to pee. I thought, I'll send this announcement out quickly, then pee, and still have time to get back to my desk before my meeting. I'm so good.

First, I sent the announcement to our admin (who asked me to distribute it) with a little message at the top saying "hey Mel, I put it in the Message from the President template and fixed the second line. I'll send it out to everyone now. ~Daph."

Then, I sent the same announcement - with the message to Mel at the top - out to the whole company.

I run to the bathroom and come back to find Mel and the President's EA looking for me - not a good sign. They told me what happend and I felt like such an arse. I guess it could have been worse - at least I didn't swear or say something inappropriate about the President or something.

Oh, and also, the Recall Message thing in Outlook doesn't work. Everyone in the company recieved my original message, a recall message, and the new message - and could view all 3 of them. If it doesn't actually recall the message, then what the hell's the point??

Filling my brain with good stuff

I went to see a concert on Saturday night, kind of out of the blue. My best friend Bev and her husband Brandon came to TO because they had tickets to see the John Butler Trio, and when they got to our place, they convinced me to go buy a ticket too.

What a fantastic idea.

I'd never heard of them, but B&B are big fans and saw them in concert once when they were living in Australia. It was a bloody fantastic concert, and I highly recommend checking them out. I've never seen that level of skill before - it blew my mind.

I didn't know any of the music, but it didn't even matter. I loved every second of it. JB's guitar solo made my head spin - it sounded like at least two guys on guitar, but it was only him. Nutso. Honestly, check them out. There's a ton of stuff on YouTube, and it's sure to blow your mind.

Brandon bought one of their CDs and gave it to me yesterday as a thank you for providing them with free lodging when they come to TO (as if they need to thank me for that! Bev's been my best friend since practically birth, and I love Brandon to death!).

I'm always humming something (often it's not something I really like), so it's so nice when I'm introduced to new music to fill my brain.

Two quick things to blog about today.

I woke up this morning from a dream about a sheep. We had found a sheep, and he was the sweetest thing in the world and I was going to keep him as a pet. I loved that sheep... but we didn't have enough yard to keep him, so I had to give him away. I was so sad. He was the cutest sheep ever.

I think I miss having a pet. It will take a LOT of convincing and a much bigger house, but eventually, I'm going to win and we're going to get a cat. Or maybe a sheep. My husband really has no use for animals. He wasn't brought up with them, and really just doesn't get it. And he's apparently allergic to cats... though it comes and goes so it's really not that bad, in my mind.

Second, welcome back to Mis(adventure) - my good friend who's back to blogging again. And welcome back to my blog (again)!

Adventures in editing

We have 3 newsletters at my job, which I manage. I write two of them myself, and the third is our employee newsletter - we have an editorial board who do most of the writing, and I'm the executive editor.

We have a new board member who was to write about our new defibrillators, since she's also on the Health & Safety committee. She submitted her article to me on Monday with this email:

this kinda sucks but i've just been insanely busy-promise better results
next time
your the best !!!!!

Shudder. This is a punctuation nightmare. And, I'm the best WHAT? Oh, I see, you mean "you're the best." Shudder.

So I open the attachment entititled "Defribrilators" - great. You left out one L and added a superfluous R. Perfect. This is going to be good, I can tell. The 'article' she submitted is below. I say 'article' because everything but the first paragraph was copied and pasted verbatum from an announcement that was sent out two weeks ago. Sorry, that's not fair. She did change it somewhat. She copied and pasted it, then messed with the font, and screwed with punctuation and spacing for no apparent reason. Oh, and she changed "fool-proof" to "idiot proof" - nice. What I love most is that she starts the article off by reminding our readers of a fellow employee who died of a heart attack at a work conference 10 years ago. Way to get their attention by hitting them in the face.

Without further ado, here's what she submitted. I think I'll highlight a few glaring issues, just for fun.

__________________________________________

AUTOMATED EXTERNAL DEFRIBRILLATORS (ya, that's not spelled correctly.
That's why there's a wavy red line under it.)


Had debrillators (What?!) been available at the conference years ago Mike Lenucci might still be with us .But they were not and he is not.

An AED is used to treat the most common causes of sudden cardiac arrest where the heart stops pumping. When used correctly, the AED automatically analyzes the heart rhythm to determine if a shock is required. If it is, the AED sends a shock
across the heart to reactivate the heart. The use of this device in conjunction with CPR can be repeated until emergency medical services arrive.

A few weeks ago Our Company made the investment of several defribillator (this was spelled correctly in the announcement she took it from) units to be made available on each floor. Training was provided to select employees as to how to employ these units.But training was not essential since these 1 use only units are virtually idiot proof.They will not generate a charge if a heartbeat is detected or if the unit is not placed on the torso properly .Each are easily accessible on all OurCompany (there should be a space between those words) floors The following first Aiders have completed AED training and are your primary resource for using these
devices:

***********
***********
***********
***********
Training for the remaining First Aiders will be completed over the next few months.

AED's have been installed at the following locations: ***********, ***********,
*********** .


Please feel free to contact anyone on the Joint Health and Safety committee for any further information.

__________________________________________

Awesome. Just awesome. I'm so glad she joined our editorial board. Now I can look forward to rewriting her articles every month. Yay!

I could rip my face off!

I haven't posted in ages... sorry. It's been a busy couple of weeks. Last Tuesday I started getting some sort of allergic reaction to something unknown (I have no allergies... that I know of) and spent Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights hopped up on Benadryl, which knocks me out. I had to work still, but my face and neck were so itchy I could rip my skin off. To make matters worse, my left cheek swelled up like crazy and was so red it looked like I got punched in the face. Awesome. Itchy *and* abused.


So now I'm down to just a few itchy welts on my neck, which Reactine helps a lot. Bloody hell. I really don't know what the problem is, but it sucks. My in-laws stayed with us Saturday night, so they had the Sunday morning Indian show on the TV. The horoscope guy (who, according to my mother-in-law, is "always right!") said that Sagittarians should watch out for allergic reactions, especially to seafood. Creepy, right? Now, I've never had an allergy to seafood before, and in fact, me and seafood are close friends (if by 'friends' I mean that I love them and eat them and that's good for me but bad for them).

I had shrimp twice last week. I swear to god, If I've developed an allergy to shrimp, I might as well just die now. It would be that horrible.

A friend of mine developed an allergy to chocolate sometime in her teen years - previously, she had been a chocaholic. The allergy got so bad that she didn't just get itchy welts, her throat started to swell up. So she had to stop eating the most perfect of all foods, or she could die. It was terrible. Then, miraculously, the universe righted itself nearly 15 years later. She had allergy testing done before she went on her honeymoon, and found that her allergy was gone! Needless to say, she called up the bakery making her wedding cake and promptly changed her order from boring ol' white to chocolate truffle. MMmm. it was gooood.

Anyway, her chocoate miracle aside, I CAN NOT BE ALLERGIC TO SHRIMP. I'm hoping it was a new moisturizer that I had been using for a few days before the flare up. Or a short-lived bout of the plague or something. Once my neck is entirely back to normal, I'll have to throw some more shrimps on the barbie (well, on the George Foreman, since I live in a condo) and test it out again. With a big box of Benalyn nearby, just in case.

Hump Day.

A couple of quick things:

I had another baby dream last night. At least this time I wasn't actually 'me' in my dream - I was someone else who had adopted a Chinese baby.
This dream didn't freak me out as much - first, because it wasn't actually me. Second, because I know why I had the dream - I was watching America's Got Talent (actually, my husband was watching it, but I watched about 5 minutes worth. I don't know why he loves 'reality' TV so much) and there was a segment on this adopted Chinese girl who is a contortionist.

Anyway, I'm really REALLY counting down until I know I'm not pregnant. Good lord - this has been the longest month ever!

On a different topic, I wonder why it is that working with the IT department to get something done is always such a bloody ordeal. It doesn't seem to matter what company you're at, the IT team is always the same. I've been asking for a folder on a public server since March to complete a re-vamp of our communications here. All I need is a folder where I can house documents so I can link to them within communications to staff. That's it. A folder on a server. And here I am, FOUR MONTHS LATER still chasing them down, and now they're trying to set me up with a SharePoint site instead of getting me a simple folder - which is much more complicated than it needs to be.

All I need is a folder!!! With write-privileges!

Why is this so difficult?
UGh.
I'm going to lunch.

The affliction of the smug married couple

We're officially that couple. The one that can't just be content with their own happiness - they have to try to make everyone around them as happy as they are by trying to forge couples out of their single friends.

We just can't help it. We're smug marrieds. This is what we do... apparently.

On Saturday, we had our friend Jules over for dinner. She was in our wedding party (technically as a groomsmaid, as she's really my husband's friend, though I've known her since highschool too). The whole purpose of her trip to Toronto (she's back living in London, after a few years spent living here post-university) was to meet our other friend, Sam. Sam is part family, part friend, actually - he's my husband's sister's husband's brother. Right, that sounds more convoluted than it really is. My brother-in-law's brother. He's a good guy, though a bit of a pain in the ass when it comes to stirring up family controversy, but that's beside the point. Anyway, he has told us on more than one occasion that he just wants to meet "a good person." She doesn't have to be gorgeous or a genius, or anything - just as long as she's a good person and in the same stage of life as him. Even his parents have appealed to us, saying "she doesn't even have to be Indian" (this used to be a really big deal for them) "she just has to be nice." Sam's about 8 months shy of hitting the big 4-0, and the family is getting a little panicked. He's getting old, he's pretty overweight, and he needs to find a girl, get married, and have babies before his parents explode. He's made it quite clear that he just wants to meet someone nice and get married already.

So, we thought and thought about who we could introduce Sam to, and the only person we could come up with was Jules - who is also pretty overweight, not a pretty girl, but sweet, thoughtful, and a very good person, and who, at 30, has never been on a date before. At 30. Never.

We thought about this nearly 2 years ago at our engagement party, but never did anything with it. Sam's parents are pretty much the devil incarnate and spend their days trying to make my sister-in-law feel inadequate in some way or other (yes, the doctor. The one who married their other son 6 years ago, has given them 2 beautiful granddaughters and has another baby on the way. The one who pays for them to come on their family vacations. The perpetually inadequate daughter-in-law...?). They're really negative people, and once told my other sister-in-law that she could do better than her Italian fiance - she could marry a nice Indian boy. She never said anything like that to us - but mostly they just don't talk to me. I prefer that, actually.

Did we want to throw Jules to the wolves like that? Sweet, naive Jules? Well, in the end, we decided it was worth it. Sam has always been their favourite son and they're very open about that, so whoever he's with will be able to do no wrong. And really, Jules' family is pretty effed up too, and we don't fault her for it. And Jules has finally realized that all of her friends are married, and the "BFF" friendships she's had since highschool are evolving beyond her control because of it. She's just as desperate as he is to just meet someone already.

So, we asked her, she said great. We asked him, he said great. They remembered each other (so theoretically, the physical wasn't really an issue) and added each other to Facebook, and we set up a double dinner date at our house.

They came over, we cooked while they visited, and he stayed until 2 a.m. They talked all night - lots in common, no shortage of conversation, and considering how shy she normally is, they had a great time, we think. We know Jules is interested (she stayed at our place that night, so we chatted) but we have no idea what his headspace is.

And honestly, it's killing us not knowing.

My husband really wants to call him to get the scoop. He HAS to know what Sam thought about Jules. I told him it's just not our place. We did everything we should do, and now we're done. We'll see him on Saturday in London anyway, as my sister-in-law is having us all over for a family birthday barbecue. He may or may not say something then - but we just need to butt out. The ball is in their court - if they want it, that is.

I have a feeling though, that my husband won't be able to leave well enough alone. He won't be able to resist from meddling, I just know it.

Luckily, our foray into the realm of smug married matchmakers was short-lived. Jules is our only single girl friend. All my friends are either married with babies, or in serious relationships at the least. All of his friends are boys... and single. Nothing we can do for them - they'll just have to fend for themselves, I guess.

I hope things work for Sam & Jules - I hope he's interested, since I know she is. They'd probably be good for each other, and on paper at least, they are exactly what the other person is looking for. Two good people, just looking for another good person who will look past his/her flaws. But, as good as we are at throwing a blind-date dinner party, we just can't gauge chemistry between two people.

Here's hoping. But either way, we've done what we set out to do: Jules has had her first date ever... at 30 years old. Sam and his parents will get off our backs.

And we can go back to just being smug marrieds.

Top of mind

I woke up from a really disturbing dream, and I've been feeling a little 'off' all day.

I had a baby, and apparently I had been ignoring the fact that I was pregnant- I just wouldn't admit it. So here I am with this newborn t hinking, oh crap! I have to get a car seat or something, don't I? Maybe I should read a book on this or something! I was completely blindsided by it all - since I had been ignoring the fact for 9 months, it was really like waking up tomorrow and being surprised by parenthood.

I am throroughly freaked out and counting down the days until I find out that I'm definitely not pregnant.

I don't think I've ever blogged about this before, and I don't think I'll really get into it right now, but the kids issue is a big one between my husband and I - especially since we've passed the one year of marriage mark. I've always been up front about the fact that I don't ever see myself with kids - you never know, things may change years and years down the road, but I really haven't ever seen myself as Mom material. I'm a great aunt. That's all. I can't even keep plants alive and I'm incredibly selfish. That's just who I am.

My husband says he'd like kids, but not anytime soon, for sure. But we've agreed to not even think about it now - we say "we'll talk when we're in our 30s" - but for me, that means there is still a very good chance that we'll talk and I'll say, "nope, not gonna happen" and we move on. For him, he's hoping we'll talk about WHEN to have kids, and hopefully not IF. Still though, he knows and respects that in the end it's my decision, so if I say no, that's that.

We don't tell his family that I'm anti-parenthood. That would make me the worst daughter-in-law of all time, telling them that their only son will not procreate so the family name will live on. We just tell them, when asked about kids, "oh, we're way to young for that. We're not even talking about it for years." If we do decide that it's never going to happen, I think it would be best to tell his family either that we just can't have kids (I have not problem being 'barren') or that it just never happened, so it wasn't meant to be.
My family has always known that I don't see it in my cards at all. I've asked my family to just not talk about it with his family.

Anyway, we're on the same page for the time being. No kids now, for damn sure. We're birth-control-aholics. And if I was to get pregnant now, we're united on what we'd do there, and the solution wouldn't be a mini-me or mini-him running around.

Either way, this dream really freaked me out and I've been feeling anxious and weird all morning. I feel like I could throw up - which makes me even more anxious and weird.

Half "Baked"

We went to a wedding in Stratford on Saturday, and before we drove back to TO yesterday, we stopped at Tim Horton's for a bit of breakfast. We decided to try out their new hasbrowns.

Generally, I'm a big fan of Tim Horton's. I worked there as a cake decorator through highschool and most of University, and, for the most part I love the food.

But I have to say how incredibly unimpressed I am with the new hashbrowns. They were soggy and peppery, and decidedly un-delicious. Even my husband, who will eat anything made from potato (especially if it's fried), didn't finish his because it was so vile. My husband opted out of hashbrowns. That's something I thought I'd never say. I hope they're a limited time thing, because yuck.

Also, one last little beef before I get some work done (after all, I am at work...).

QUIT MARKETING EVERYTHING AS 'BAKED' - AS THOUGH IT'S A HEALTHIER OPTION! We all know that the hashbrowns, along with the donuts, were fried first at the factory, then flash frozen and shipped to the stores where they were 'baked' for 3 minutes just to thaw and warm them.

WE'RE NOT MORONS! We know that there's no such thing as a baked hashbrown or donut! We'll eat them despite knowing they're fried - but please, just be honest! Better still, JUST DON'T TELL US HOW THEY'RE MADE! We won't be angry - we don't want to know how much butter is in that butter croissant, we just want to eat it. Don't tell us!

Ok. That's a lot of ALLCAPS for one morning. Off to work.

How 'bout we try, "were"

I was listening to the radio on my commute today, and okay, I know that I'm a grammar nazi. I also know (and accept) that some people use poor grammar because they don't know any better, or because it's a regionally accepted convention. Fine.

But hey, New Kids on the Block! We all know you come from upper middle class families in Boston - not some ghetto where you weren't taught to conjugate the verb "to be".

"You wasn't looking for a man"
"As long as we was together"

Honestly, the song wouldn't be half bad (certainly not musical genius, but hummable, if forgettable) if it weren't for the awful lyrics. I just can't get past it.

Quit trying to sound like you're younger and more 'raw' than you are. You just look like tools.

Your Keywords: Disappointed and Confused

It's a sad day for Daphne's iPod.



When I worked in Insurance Hell, I started downloading a variety of CBC podcasts to listen to on the subway. I quickly became hooked on SearchEngine. What an insightful, current and decidedly un-geeky program! I love that it's about current events but doesn't feel like the news.



Since I started working at the Publisher, I haven't been listening to podcasts so much. My drive is only about 20 minutes, so it's almost not worth hooking my iPod up in the car. I don't listen to them at work - just music while I write and edit.



Anyway, I'm starting to get tired of the radio (hearing the same damn songs from 7:45 - 8:05 and 4:50 - 5:20 every day gets a little wearing) so on Monday I decided to go back to the CBC site and download the Search Engine and other podcasts I've missed.



I listened to the "keywords" of the podcast for June 19: "Jim Prentice unlocked, small town cyberwars, and the last episode of Search Engine....vol.1 "



WHAT? Last episode of Search Engine?? But it's such a great show! It's received awards; it's listened to internationally; it makes me happy! It won't return in September in the form I know and love.... and I'm just not optimistic about the new format. I don't listen to other shows regularly, so the little snippets of SE stories that will apparently be included on other programs will not be very helpful to me. And while I'll no doubt continue to listen to Jesse's new 'raw and off the cuff' podcast, well, it just won't be the same.

Exhaustion

I'm taking a quick break at work - mmm... coffee and cake....
It was an absolutely draining weekend. The thought of even writing about it makes me want to just curl up and sleep, so I plan to skip over it quickly. My mom was here. It wasn't fun. End of story. The planned events were a good idea. Went to a show, had dinner, dragged my friend Mis(adventure) out for a trip to the beaches (she's a saint). Next time, I'll do that again (the planning of many events), and I'll tell her she should bring a friend up, too. That way, she'll probably only do a day trip or maybe stay one night instead of two, and she'll have someone else to drive crazy. She's much better when there's a 'buffer' friend between us.

Yesterday, we drove to London with mom in the car (longest 2 hours of my life) and then dropped her off before heading to my dad's for dinner. I started dinner with a much-deserved martini.
Then, when we got back last night at 10, I decorated a cake for a 35+ person reception at work today.

I'm bloody exhausted. I have an absolute ton of work to do, and I just can't make my brain work. I need a nap. A long, looooong nap.

It has been two really exhausting weeks and I just want to cuddle with my husband on the couch and watch a movie or something (and by 'watch,' I mean 'sleep through').

Only 1:20 left of work... sigh.
Ok, coffee and cake break is over. Back at it.

Preparing

The funeral wasn't fun. My best friend's brother did the eulogy, and the whole room pretty much lost it. It was beautiful and heartfelt, and I was a mess. His eulogy about this wonderful woman who was loved and revered by every one of her kids, grandkids and greatgrandkids actually made me (briefly) reexamine my 'no kids' policy. Briefly. That's all I'm going to say about the funeral. It was sad. I'm glad it's done. I wish that I didn't know that Poppy will be next.

I'm back home now - well, I'm at work, actually. I took the train back yesterday evening.
My mom's coming up to visit tomorrow and I'm not exactly looking forward to it. She has a way of making me crazy over really stupid things. I have to spend tonight combing our condo for things that might invite uncomfortable conversations - like the card my dad sent thanking us for the hospitality a couple of weeks ago, and anything that might indicate how often we see my in-laws, and, well I can't think of anything else now, but there will be a lot tonight. I can't explain what it is about my mother... you you have to know her to understand it. For the longest time my husband didn't see or understand the crazy. He thought I was being unreasonable and she was fine. Now, he gets it. Welcome to the family.

The last time she came to TO was the weekend after we moved in August 07. She insisted on coming that weekend, despite the fact that we had just barely moved in and would like to take some time buying furniture and unpacking. Her solution was, "I'll help unpack!" Ya, not gonna happen. I can just imagine the drama that would bring. So, we spent our first week frantically unpacking and furnishing so we'd have everything done when she arrived - with a spare room set up so she wouldn't have to sleep on our couch. We were exhausted. And she had nothing she wanted to do while in Toronto besides 'visit' - which meant our entire August long weekend was spent just sitting in the living room while my mother told us how she would decorate, what she would do, where she would put things. And try to explain that this is how we want it? Unacceptable. Her ideas are so much better, and she just can't understand why we don't agree with her. Maybe if I just explain why my idea is better one more time, you'll understand. Ugh.

So this time, we've learned our lesson. We're planning things for the weekend. She's arriving Friday night, and Saturday we're thinking we'll do breakfast at home, Indian buffet for lunch (I'm inviting my friend Meg to come as a buffer), go to the Beaches in the afternoon to kill some time, and we're going to get tickets for something Saturday night - there's a hypnotist magician or something in Toronto this weekend. That would be good. And Sunday we're all driving to London together. We'll drop mom off at home and then take my Dad out for a belated Father's Day.

Should be a jam-packed weekend, but at least the amount of time my mom can bitch at me will be reduced significantly - she can't nag while we're in a theatre. I hope...

I don't really feel like writing, but then, I'm at work and I don't really feel like working either. Hence, a short post.

I'm leaving the office at 3 today so I can get downtown for a 5:00 train. My best friend Bev's grandma died on Sunday, so I'm heading to London for the visitation tonight & funeral tomorrow. I knew her almost as well as I know/knew my own grandmas, so it's been a sad couple of days. For Bev's wedding, she was living out of town at the time, so it was me and Bev's mom over at her grandma's house cutting and wrapping endless pieces of fruitcake. Her grandma was really the nicest lady, and she'll be missed a lot.

What's even sadder is that Grandma G has been taking care of Poppy (Bev's grandpa) for the last year or so, since he's been even sicker than she is. So we all know it's just a matter of time before he just lets go, and I'll be back to London for the second funeral.

I was a bit of a wreck on Monday at work - I just found out about Grandma G late Sunday night, and was a total mess. I don't think my husband's ever really seen me cry (crying during movies doesn't count) and he didn't know what to do with me, especially since she's not even my grandma. But she might as well be my grandma, and it makes it even harder knowing my that my grandma in Saskatchewan isn't well either and it could very easily have been her funeral I'm attending.

Today I'm okay, but I know I'll be a mess when I see Bev tonight at the funeral home. Even though I know the last month has been really awful for Grandma G and she's been in a lot of pain, it just doesn't make it any easier. Bev and I are like sisters - I've known her since we started being baby sat together when I was 6 months old. Our brothers are best friends and her brother participated as one of my 'brothers' in the Indian part of my wedding ceremony. Our parents are friends. Her family is my family, and their loss is my loss. It really hasn't been a good week so far.

So at 3, I leave work, drive home, change, take the subway to Union, catch my train, get picked up at the station by my mom, and head right to the funeral home for visitation. Then tomorrow, I'll go to the funeral on my own, then take a cab to the train station and come back to Toronto to prepare our condo to have my mom up to visit for the weekend.

Anyway, I might not post anything until next week.

If heaven was made of leather

I know that the readers of my blog are all male - and that's because I haven't given my blog address to any of my girlfriends.

So, kind sirs, I'm sorry that this post won't do anything for you at all.

Last night, we went out for dinner with my sister- and brother-in-law, since it was her birthday. We're doing a family celebration on Saturday, but we thought since we live in the same city, we should take her out on the day.

She surprised me with a gift.... a gift of shoes.

A gift of Giuseppe Zanotti shoes.

If you've ever heard Carrie Bradshaw on Sex & the City gush about her Manolos or Jimmy Choos, well, these are right up there. My sister-in-law bought them on sale in a size too small because she couldn't just not buy them at all. She's worn them once for about 20 minutes, but because it was agony for her feet (albeit heaven for her outfit), they've been sitting in her closet just dying to be worn.

Unbeknownst to me, about 4 months ago, she decided she should give them to me - my feet are an 8 and would fit the Zanotti's perfectly. It's been a 4 month struggle for her to let go of them, and last night, at the Spring Rolls at Yonge & Bloor, she presented me with the most beautiful pair of shoes I've seen in real life .

Okay, I think I need to clarify. I said she bought them on sale, and I think that statement, with no clarification, belies the true worth of these shoes. She bought them on sale for $550.00, down from $625.00.

$550 for shoes!!!!!

These babies were made by hand in Italy of delicious tan Italian leather. I could eat them. They are the sexiest shoes ever. Last night, my husband had to tell me I couldn't wear them to bed (because of course, when I got home, I had to wear them around the condo and didn't want to take them off). In fact, I'm wearing them now. I'm working from home today and I'm wearing my bathrobe and $550.00 shoes.

I am spoiled rotten by my in-laws. They give me jewellery for every major occasion (for our 1 year anniversary, my mother-in-law gave me a diamond pendant), MAC makeup (my sister-in-law is in the fashion industry, so she gives the fashion week giveaways made for blondes that she gets to me), and now, Giuseppe Zanotti shoes.

I love my life.

I'm a jerk.

Ok, I'm a bitch. That last post was totally mean. I should be happy for the couple who did, despite my doom and gloom predictions, make it to the alter on Saturday. And on top of that, it was actually a really nice wedding - tasteful and fun, which is the opposite of what I anticipated. I expected it to be really tacky and boring.... and I'm a jerk.

We were sat at a really great table - we knew one couple well, and then there were two of the bride's cousins and their boyfriends. They were awesome. We had a fantastic time, dinner was great, the DJ played good music, and I'm a jerk. The decorations were pretty and the bride looked beautiful in a very classy gown.

I should not sound surprised by all of this.... but I really am. We know how broke the bride & groom are (they had to each work 2 jobs and save for 3 years to host this wedding for 100 guests - I won't even tell you how much ours cost for 300 guests). We know that their appartment is decorated entirely with teddy bears and beanie babies and that they really wanted to get married at Disney. We know that the bride wears sweaters with puppies on them on a regular basis... so you have to understand how surprised we were to see beautiful flowers, tasteful and flattering bridesmaid dresses, and not a teddy bear in sight. And though we noticed the little ways they saved cashola only because we've been kept apprised of all the planning through one of the bridesmaids (who was also one of our bridesmaids), absolutely nothing looked like they cut corners. I am duly impressed. What they did, they did well. What they didn't do wasn't missed by anyone.

The bride has been really high-maintenance and stressed about really stupid things for 3 years, so the grace she showed when confronted with the inevitable glitches - like their limo breaking down in the church parking lot (one of the bridesmaids' husband's is a mechanic and fixed it right there, in his suit) was truly surprising. We had told her umpteen times, "plan all you can now, but on the day, you just have to let it ride when things go wrong, because they will." To which she responded, "No, they can't go wrong!" She did really well, and thanked those who helped with the glitches gracefully in her speech. She was calm and radiant.

Dinner was delicious, we danced our butts off and stayed until after midnight. And now I wish I had written something nice in the wedding card - but I let my husband take care of it so he probably wrote "congratultions" in illegible handwriting. I feel the need to write them both a heartfelt email saying what a great time we had - I have to make up for all the bitchy things I said before the wedding. I am a jerk, but I've been proven wrong.

Congratulations......?

So I'm going to a wedding tomorrow and I truly wonder if the bride and groom will actually make it to the alter. Actually, I wonder if they SHOULD make it to the alter. They have broken up at least 4 times that I know about SINCE THEY'VE BEEN ENGAGED and are on engagement ring #3 - because she keeps throwing them off the balcony when they fight.

Hey, I understand that wedding planning sucks. It can make even the most perfectly matched couple fight like cats and dogs over stupid things (honestly, did I care, REALLY care, if we had 3 indian desserts and only 1 canadian dessert? In the end, did it matter? No. I ate my cake and was perfectly happy, but I argued about it until I was blue in the face... because at the time, it was pretty damn important). But seriously, if breaking up is ever even an option in your mind, then you shouldn't be engaged in the first place. No stupid fight should ever mean so much that you'd break up and throw away the ring. Grow up, or break up. You have to choose.

So ya, if they actually get married tomorrow and make it through the reception, I'll be surprised. I really wonder if they'll make it to their first anniversary without killing each other.

We're giving them a checque (because we know that's what most brides & grooms really want... not the multi-sized colander set they registered for because they felt they should) but you know, we should have thought this through better. If we bought them a gift and they break up on their honeymoon, they'd have to return it. By then, the money will be long gone paying for the reception and three hundred chocolate truffles and centrepieces that everyone wants but nobody knows what to do with when they get it home.

I could actually use a multi-sized colander set.

I wonder if there's still time to pick one up.

The best invention since.... well, ever

We got one on Tuesday, and I love it. Anything that makes my husband get off the couch and away from the computer is aces for me. And it's super fun.

Wow, I feel so 'white trash American'

So the other day after work, against every fibre of by being, I stopped at Wal-Mart to look for a tanktop. I bought a pretty white shirt on Gerrard on Saturday but I need a nude-coloured tank top to wear under it so I don't look like the office tramp when I wear it to work. So, I stopped at Wal-Mart.

I HATE Wal-Mart. It is the devil. Besides the fact that it and all the other 'big box' stores are what's wrong with North America today, I just hate the environment. I don't want to be grocery shopping in a store where people are pushing office furniture around in a cart. I don't want to be looking for a DVD in a store surrounded by families of 7 with a cart full of clothes. I hate it.

My husband and I shop there very VERY rarely and only if we have something very specific we need to pick up, and our rule is to never get a cart. If we are picking up one or two things, fine. But the second you take a cart, you're subjected to the throngs of other people with carts trying to get by because their screeming kids are getting rangy and they still have to buy diapers and want to look at patio furniture and need to pick up a birthday card..... So, no carts.

So anyway, I needed a nude-coloured tank top and stopped at the hub of hell and tried to go straight to the cheap lingerie section. But I got stopped.... by the bagels. My husband was out of bagels, and here they are, at Wal-Mart, not the grocery store. And then, as I continued across the store, I got stopped... in the linens section and bought two anti-allergen pillow protectors, at Wal-Mart, not the home decor place. I hate stores like this, but somehow, despite my best efforts I was sucked in by that horrible thing called "convenience." Finally... I got to the lingerie.

In the end, they didn't have a nude-coloured tank top.... but I ended up buying underwear. From WAL-MART. In a 3 pack.

I have NEVER bought underwear that wasn't carefully selected from La Senza or Victoria's Secret or even Calvin Klein. And I've never EVER bought underwear in a 3 pack before.


It's like in that brief encounter on the way home from work, Wal-Mart somehow transformed me into a white trash American. How the hell did that happen?

Damn you, Wal-Mart. Damn you all to hell.

I feel like I need to dress up and go somewhere fancy to shake off the stank of white trash and get back to my upper-middle class self.

Entertaining

So I haven't posted in ages - sorry.
I went to Jamaica, and I really don't feel like writing up all the dissappointments of that fiasco because it will put me in a bad mood for the day. Let's just say this: Sandals Montego Bay is WAY overpriced for the budget vacation you really get, and romance there, despite how the lovely ads and vacation planning booklets look, is nonexistant. Well, there's "romance," but that's not the same as actual romance. Having our quiet dinner interrupted everyday by a Sandals photographer saying "look like you like each other! be romantic! give him a kiss!" is decidedly NOT romantic.

At any rate, 5 days of beautiful weather, lots of rum, and champagne in our room each night was better than 5 days here of crap weather, work, and no champagne at all.

So I'm blogging this morning kind of out of boredom. My dad & his partner are up visiting for the weekend and I stressed so much through the night about not being awake when they wake up (What if they're early risers? I didn't show them where the coffee is! Must be sure to be awake when they get up!) that I tossed and turned from about 4:45 until 7:20. At that point I said screw it, I'm up. So I've already cooked up a pound of bacon that just needs to be rewarmed and I've made a strawberry sauce for the coconut-crusted french toast I plan to make. (mmmm). Now I'm debating whether I should use this time to shower and dress, or if that will make Dad & Susan uncomfortable to chill in their jammies for breakfast.

I shouldn't worry this much. He's my dad, after all. This should be easy. The t hing is though, my dad didn't raise me. Sure, we saw him, and he took us on vacation to Saskatchewan to see his family in the summers, but we don't have the comfort that I have with my mom, or even with my husband's parents. I've never stayed over at his house, and that's the main difference. We go there for dinners, which are pretty formal. Fun, but formal. We sit in the living room and chat while he and Susan organize dinner, then come to the kitchen to eat, then go back to the living room to chat, then go home. We've never had a meal in our jammies before. I was explaining to my friend Meaghan that it's like having my Aunt & Uncle over for a weekend. They're family, but there's still a wall of formality between us.

Oh, I think I just heard somebody awake. I should wake up the hubby now. He's snoring, and he's definitely going to spend a half hour in the washroom when he wakes up, so I should go nudge him now. Ah, marriage ;)

Off turn on the coffee.

365 wonderful days

I can't believe it - tomorrow's our first anniversary.

On one hand, the year has just flown by. It seems that time passes quicker now that I'm older. When I was in school, it seemed to drag on. But now... wow, it's already mid-May.

But on the other hand, the wedding seems Soooooo long ago. Over the past week, I kept thinking back to what I was doing a year ago on this day- just driving to London a week before the wedding to finish off last-minute stuff, pre-wedding BBQ at my dad's, getting pedicures with my 'Maids, getting my menhdi done... and a year ago tonight, I was trying to make myself tired because the sooner I went to bed, the sooner it would be THE DAY. Just like Christmas - Santa won't come until you go to sleep :) And then, quicker than I could blink, it was done, I was wearing a beautiful platinum and diamond band next to the engagement ring I'd had on for a year and a half, and we were chilling on the Mayan Riviera replaying every second a million times.

It's all so clear, but still seems like ages ago. The year has been busy, and crazy, and wonderful... And I've learned a lot, I think. Over the last year, I've learned a lot about being a wife and a daughter-in-law and sister-in-law, and even though we lived together before the wedding, I think I've still learned a lot about living with someone.

We're going out for a fancy dinner tomorrow night, then back home to eat our one year old layer of wedding cake that my mom so carefully wrapped and froze for us after the wedding. We took it out of the layers of saran wrap today, and mmmmm it smells good.

I'm heading to bed now, but I'll try to blog a bit from work tomorrow while it's all fresh.

So I guess tonight's my last night as a newlywed! Now I'm just an old married lady :)

Mmmmm

I just ate a peanut butter pirate cookie and it was probably the best thing I've ever eaten. Two reasons:

1. I've lost 9 pounds, and I'm feeling pretty damn proud of myself. My bathing suits look great, I can do my belt up on a tighter notch - and I miss sweets like I can't even tell you. This cookie was a sweet, sweet reward.
   
2. It's a 'stolen' cookie. One of the managers buys cookies for new employee orientation and then keeps the opened bags in a filing cabinet to use at the next meeting (and absolutely won't let anyone touch them, despite the fact that they'll be stale by the nex meeting). When she's not in the office, we sneak cookies. And ooooohhhh do they taste good.

I haven't posted much these days. The reason is thankfully not because I'm working in the evenings or anything equally crappy..... we bought a Wii on Saturday, and I've done nothing but work, sleep, eat South Beach-friendly foods, and play Mario Party. I don't feel bad about my lack of productivity - I deserve it. I'm a hard-working 28 year old professional, and I deserve to revert back to my teen years every now and then.

I can't wait to go home and play. Wiiiiiiii!

This is fantastic. Yes, I work in an office, and yes, I am a geek. Whatever - this is great.

Compliments of dailydyson.

Holy Hell

135.6

That's what the scale told me this morning.

I can't remember when I last weighed that! 135 is my Magic Number, and I'm there already -2 weeks early!

WEEEE!

I heart South Beach.

Not much new in Daphne-ville. The weather bums me out, I'm crampy and blah, and my husband's allergies are driving him mental so I'm constantly walking around the house throwing out kleenexes. Ew. That's about it for me.

I feel like ass and I'm going to bed.

This makes me happy:

checking in

So it's week 2 of South Beach, and I'm not doing too badly. The weekend could have been bad for the waistline, what with birthday dinners at the Keg and a birthday BBQ at an Italian household, but I managed to fare pretty well. I resisted the carb-y foods, and treated myself with really REALLY good (but not very lean) meats. Pas mal. On Monday morning, I was at my Friday weight, so I consider that a success. I didn't lose, but I didn't gain. Huzzah :)

As of today, I'm down 5 whole pounds! Yay me :)
I'm at 137, and I'm pleased. I had been at 138.5 since Friday and it was getting to be a bit of a bummer, but dropping that bit on the scale this morning has renewed my zeal.

The bathing suits will fit... I'm determined.

17 days until Jamaica!

This is what perked me up on Saturday morning

My hubby and I woke up grumpily, but then we remembered: we have leftovers from the Keg!

This was divine:

leftover steak, asparagus, roasted tomato and peppers.... mmmm.

It Almost made up for the crappity wakeup.

Not a happy girl.

Why does it seem like my in-laws are hell-bent set against letting us sleep in? We have spent the last 4 EFFING weekends in London due to family birthdays and anniversaries, which has been really, really wearing on us. We get no weekend - we spend the whole time driving back and forth to London and chasing our neices and nephews around.

Fine. So April has been a wash - nothing we can do about that. Birthdays are birthdays, and April is always going to be like that. Fine.

So yesterday was my brother-in-law's birthday, and since they live in the GTA, the London side is driving up here today for a BBQ. Awesome - a Toronto weekend, even though it's a family weekend. We went out for dinner with them last night and were saying how excited we are to sleep in today - we don't have to set our alarms, we don't have to get up early. Wooo.

So, guess who calls at 9:30???? My sister-in-law. "Oh, you weren't sleeping, were you?" "Well, I woke up about 5 minutes ago" (But was trying to fall back asleep). "Oh, I'm so sorry... did the phone wake my brother up?" I look over. "Yes, looks like it." "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize it isn't 10:00" (since when is 10:00 ok, even? Though it's better than 9:30, it's still too early to call, since she knew how much we were looking forward to sleeping in) There was a pregnant pause while she expected her brother to pick up the phone, despite the fact that she just woke him up unnessesarily. "Um, can I have him call you back when he's up?" "Oh... yeah okay. Sure."

Right. So you're not actually sorry you called us early, effectively ending the only sleep-in opportunity we've had for freaking ages.

My other sister-in-law used to do this all the time, and when my husband says, "Uggh, it's 8:00 on a Sunday. Why are you calling now - I'm sleeping" she'd say, sarcastically, "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't get to sleep in - I have two kids. I'm always up now" As though her choice to have two unruly children who have no concept of discipline is cause to make our mornings miserable. Like, we should pay for her not sleeping. That seems to have ended though, after my husband suggested that he start calling her at 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning, because , "oh, I always work late - I don't get to go to bed early. I'm always up now." She was appalled and responded with something like, "No! You can't do that, you'll wake the girls up!" Exactly.
I think that hit home a bit.

My rule: Unless it's an emergency, or you absolutely know we're up (like, we have to be over at your house at 11, or something), NOTHING BEFORE NOON. It's not like we're sleeping until noon, but maybe we'd like to have a morning without talking to our families every once in a while. Perhaps we, as a still newly-married couple, would like to spend our morning in bed, or having a nice, quiet breakfast, or reading, or ANYTHING ELSE that doesn't involve listening to you bitch about something.

Great, now I'm starting out my Saturday grumpy. And the TTC is on strike. And it grey and ugly out. Great.

Day 3 - Down 3 pounds

Yesterday I resisted temptation like a champ. Someone brought in Timbits - I didn't eat any. I went to Starbucks with my boss, and all I had was a Cafe Americano, no sugar. We had a friend over for dinner and while they ate chocolate cake, I just had coffee. (One little cheat: I put a dollop of peanut butter cool whip on their cake, and I did lick the spoon).

Let's see how I do today...

Breakfast: 2 quiche dealies, glass of crystal light

Snack: celery sticks with 1 wedge Laughing Cow cheese

Lunch at Casey's: Asian Chicken Salad

Dinner: chicken & peppers with roasted squash zucchini, handful of peanuts

Day 2 - One pound less (and counting)

Breakfast: 2 quiche dealies
Snack: Missed it because I was at an off-site meeting all morning. Was SO hungry at lunch.
Lunch: Stuffed pepper, roasted squash, V8
Snack: celery sticks, 1 wedge of Laughing Cow cheese
Dinner: 1 hamburger patty (no bun), Big ol' bowl of salad

To make up for the boring food diary post

Just a little something ... enjoy.

Starting to keep track

I'm going to start keeping a journal of what I eat during the South Beach-a-thon.

So, here goes.

Day 1 - 141.8 pounds

Breakfast: 2 mini quiche cups, 1 V8

Snack: celery sticks, 1 laughing cow cheese wedge

Lunch: stuffed green pepper, jello light cup

Snack: peanuts

Dinner: 1 salmon cake, stuffed green pepper, oven roasted squash

Counting Down - days and pounds (hopefully)

So we booked a trip to Jamaica on Friday. Five days, four nights at the Bay Roc Sandals in Montego Bay to celebrate our first anniversary.

I'm so excited, but also so worried, because Jamaica means beach, and that means bathing suit. There is no way in hell I could fit into last year's suits, and that worries me. I don't want to be one of those people at 40 who say they got fat 5 pounds at a time and never really noticed it. I don't want to be content with gaining a few pounds every year and just upping my 'magic number' - the weight that divides where I feel comfortable versus overweight.

So, here it is: my online confession and promise to myself.

I weigh 142 pounds - the most I have ever weighed.

My magic number when I finished my post-grad diploma was 135 pounds, and come hell or high water, I'm going to do everything I can to get there.

I have 25 days until Jamaica, and I start the South Beach diet tomorrow. I went shopping tonight and made breakfast quiches for the week, and also made South Beach-friendly stuffed green peppers for lunch & dinner tomorrow. I'm set - I have the motivation, I have the determination, and I have 3 bathing suits waiting for me to squeeze my ass into them....

Wish me luck.

Is it wrong of me that I really enjoy my Friday afternoons without my husband?
I'm off at 1 on Fridays (Have I mentioned that before? It seriously kicks ass) and for a few weeks, before the hubby started a new job, we spent Friday afternoons together - we'd go out for lunch, run errands, shop, etc. It was great. It was like a whole extra day on the weekend.

But now he's back at work until 5 on Fridays, and Daphne flies solo. I spend my time doing... whatever I want. I pick up some groceries on the way home, cook, watch tv, bake cakes for the 3 billion Spring birthdays in our families, read, catch up on last week's episode of JPod... anything and nothing.

Don't get me wrong: I love spending time with my husband - he's my best friend, he's absolutely amazing, and almost a year into the marriage, I couldn't be happier. But, I really do like having just a few hours to myself each week (time that isn't spent at work or in the bathroom).

Is that wrong?

Night and Day

Remember my boss from my last job? Remember the ominous and cryptic emails she would send, and how I dreaded interacting with her? Ya, me too. Those 10 months were the most unhappy and least creative I've ever spent, due in equal parts to how much insurance sucks, and my manager's "I can't make you respect me, but I can make you fear me" management.

My new boss is her exact opposite. She's the inverse of the old boss. If it was a math equasion, it would go something like this:

Boss3 = Boss2^-1

(Woa, did Daphne just do something math-related? Yes, yes she did... Does she have a gun held to her head or something? Nope. Huh... weird. That may be a first.)

Yesterday, we had a big ol' crazy event at work - my boss and I planned & executed the thing. I can't tell you what an ordeal it was. Well, I can, but I just don't want to relive the constant struggle we had with our Corporate office in the U.S. over the last month or so. Just believe me: The planning was mental, the day was hectic, and my boss and I managed to have a good time despite it all. And people ate cupcakes.

So last night, exhausted after a 12 hour day at work (following a week of working in the evenings), I compulsively checked my email and I received this from my new boss:

Hi Daphne… you were a star today.

Your pleasant approach, willingness to help and constant smile really helped us get through some challenges. I appreciate your positive attitude and your sense of humour. As you said - one down, one to go! Thanks for everything you did. Without you, we would not have been able to pull this off with such panache!

It was a pleasure working with you.
~The best Manager in the world

Is there anything else to say, except that I love my job? I was born to work here. As my dad's girlfriend says, "Some jobs are great to get and great to leave" - but this one is just great.

Going up?

A couple of weeks ago, I presented a communications strategy to the sales managers - most of whom, I have never met. It went well, I thought - people asked questions, seemed interested, didn't shout at me... all in all, a good meeting. But you never really know what people are thinking.

So, I was in the elevator today and received the nicest compliment. One of the guys from the meeting said to me that he had meant to tell me how well he thought I did at the meeting. He said I was very professional, well-spoken, seemed very comfortable at the front of the room, especially since I didn't know anyone there, and that the plan I presented was just what they needed.

He said, "you've obviously done some PR before." And I have - a bit. But I don't think that's where it comes from. I've always enjoyed presenting - be it on stage with a microphone and some music, in a play, or in front of a group of classmates or colleages - it makes no difference to me. If I'm comfortable with the subject matter, just point me towards the mic.

Anyway, it was an entirely unsolicited compliment, which made it that much more meaningful. He could have just said, "Good morning, Daphne." But instead, he completely made my day.

It's so weird being in a job that I'm really good at. I spent 10 months in insurance hell and was made to feel like I had chosen the wrong profession. I've been at the Publisher for almost 2 months, and I feel like I can do anything - and will be supported by my team. And, apparently, I'll also be supported by members of different departments, just because.

Golden.

I had to 'pitch' a presentation to the President this afternoon. He'll be giving a speech at a conference next week, and I'm the presentation-maker. Problem is, this is the first time I've ever done a presentation for him. I had a general idea of what he wanted, but what does he mean when he says he wants a "pretty full draft" on Monday? A complete presentation plus speech? Bullet points? Complete slides but no speaking notes? Does he even want speaking notes at all? Needless to say, the presentation was not finished when I went into his office. I would not have called it a 'pretty full draft.'

Despite that, the meeting went well and I think he liked my approach. It's a short presentation - 15 - 20 minutes - and he wanted videos in it. Basically, I went to him with slide/note printouts, told him about the videos I'm including (but explained that I need to edit them down a bit still, which is true, and I don't have the software to do that here) and talked him through the main points I think he needs to touch on following the video clips.

I had some speaking notes in the PPT, but some were bullet form, some were full sentences ( I needed about a 1/2 hour more to finish it up and he bumped the meeting up a 1/2 hour - ack). Instead of leaving him wondering if Daphne has writing problems and if they hired some incompetant fool, I addressed the fact that it wasn't consistent, and asked him how he would like the final copy, bullets or full speaking notes. Lucky for me, he thinks that just bullets of what I really think he needs to touch on is just fine.

Things are really nuts here this week, and he has about 30 seconds to think about this presentation he'll be giving next week. He asked me how many minutes video I think I have - I told him about 10 minutes. His face lit up - that means only 10 minutes of him talking, so maybe a half hour of preparation and he'll be golden.

He likes the idea of the videos I've chosen, though he hasn't seen them yet. He likes the idea of the presentation he'll be giving, but he hasn't gone through it yet.

I like the idea that I don't have to write him a 20 minute speech and I like the fact that I'm surfing on YouTube and getting paid for it.