unexpected reno

We had a plan for this house. It wasn't set in stone, but the items in the plan lined up nicely in my mind.

Some of the items have a nice check mark beside them.

Replace the floors in the front half of the house - check.
Redo the bathroom - check.
Front perennial garden established - check
Back gardens cleaned up, begin vegetable-growing experiment - check

Most of the plans are yet to come.

New hardware in the kitchen
New paint in the kitchen
New curtains and blinds in the kitchen
Fix the front porch
Fix the driveway
Put a second floor on the front half of the house for a seriously AWESOME master bedroom

... and waaaaaaayyyy down the list .... at the bottom .... was an item vaguely referred to as "change the basement so it doesn't feel like the inside of a mint tictac".

And then it stormed last Thursday. And while I contentedly reflected upstairs on the fact that our house is higher than most of our neighbours, so our basement has never flooded ... well, it flooded. Backed-up sewer kind of flooding.

Of course, since I don't generally hang out on the inside of a tictac, I didn't know this. Spike called me at work on Friday to query about the carpet that was oozing ick under his bare feet.

---

....pause to give thanks for insurance....

---

And now our basement carpet and sub-flooring have been ripped out, as have entire sections of wall, and yes, the random toilet. Industrial size fans are down there right now, drying things up and drowning out the sound of any planes flying overhead. The smell of disinfectant spray is wafting gently through our home.

Moving that vague "change the basement" item right to the top of the list.

*sigh*

It was just important to me that you knew ... we had a plan.

memories

Nothing like a warm summer evening to revive memories.

Teenage years. Not the best years of one's life, I must say. (Who started that rumour? Someone with a wicked sense of humour, I'll bet.)

Still. Good years. If I had to do them over again - well, I'd rather do them now, when I have a far better sense of who I am, and far less anxiety about looking stupid.

And a warm summer evening now brings back memories of those years.

Footlong hotdogs, fries, and some awful-tasting drink called a "Golden Glow".

Plastic tables under outdoor fluorescent lights, soft ice cream cones, listening to the tape cranked in the nearby pick-up truck.

Lots and lots of laughter. Cool breezes.

Friendships you never, ever forget, even if you don't know where the friends are anymore.

---

Weird, isn't it, that Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson both died today? Farrah wasn't much on my radar as a teenager, but Michael was. I wasn't personally a huge fan, but you couldn't not know who he was. One friend with the single glove, who was totally in love with him - makes me laugh. I wonder where she is now, presumably hearing this news at the same time I am?

miracle princess

I got to see a Princess yesterday!


She was gorgeous. A bright pink, spaghetti strap dress (just because I can't wear pink doesn't mean no one else can either), and a sparkly, bejewelled tiara on her head, holding back endless dark, bouncy curls.

She sang.

She danced.

She was front and center on the stage, obviously because that's exactly where she belonged.

"... if I had wings like a butterfly ..."

"...itsy bitsy spider..."

and of course the Numbers Song.

The best song of all - "Look at me! I'm a miracle! There's no one else quite like me!"

All performed with a shy dignity, and a smile that kept sneaking through. A video of memories included a shot of this Princess posed with one hand on her hip, gazing confidently at the camera, while Sarah McLachlin played in the background.

She's going to be a police officer when she grows up! (The Princess. Not Sarah McLachlin. At least, not that I know of. But I don't really know Sarah McLachlin - I'm sure she has dreams too.)

Afterwards, as we looked for her silhouette on the wall, she turned without warning and pulled me into a hug that only a Princess can give.

Congratulations on your Graduation from kindergarten, Princess!

"When you wake up every day
Please don't throw your dreams away
Hold them close to your heart
'Cause we're all a part"

can't sleep

wakefulness

slow progression of thoughts on a repeating track in my head

eyes open, staring into the dark

might as well get up

i remember another night, a long time ago

this time, wakefulness was an assignment

"nightwatch" for an hour, by myself, outside

sounds are different

cool breezes are peaceful

can't do anything - just be

which is, it turns out, not a bad thing

travel by backpack

Yesterday morning, two backpackers from Alabama came to Crossfire. "Happy" and "Donuts" - had just come from the city down the highway one way, and are heading on this week to the city down the highway the other way.

Intriguing. Any other backpackers out there?

My sister-in-law backpacked through Europe, I'm pretty sure, but I was only newly dating Spike when she came home, so I'm fuzzy on the details.

(I should ask her more about that, now that I've known her for a couple of decades. Maybe it's time I get over that initial shyness.)

Here is what I learned. Today's backpackers carry tiny little laptops with them. They also pre-arrange some of their sleeping arrangements through websites dedicated to backpackers with texting capabilities. Or they sleep in a park, like backpackers of yore.

And they can live - two of them - on $22 a day. $23 with the exchange.

They were lovely people. I enjoyed meeting them.

---

I don't think I'm backpacker material. I can rough it - that's not a problem - I've seen my share of international bathrooms. (Which, ironically, rarely have a bath or running water, and may not even be a room. Even "toilet" can be a gross exaggeration.)

But I need a plan. I don't have to be in charge of the plan. I'm open to the plan changing. I can be flexible about the plan. I just like to know that there was a reasonable attempt at a plan.

No, I'm not backpacker material.

I'm more of a road trip kind of gal. Unless it's to St. Petersburg. That's my dream destination (having fulfilled my Alaska dream a couple of years ago). St. Petersburg will require travel by plane and train, as well as an excellent interpreter.

I will get there someday.

Without a backpack.

nobody's a comedian

I amuse myself. You've probably figured that out about me. The older I get, the more I am likely to be that person in the corner, killing themself laughing at their own joke.

So the other day I was watching a TV interview with Jim Balsillie's spokesman. You know, over the whole, "Please, may we have an NHL team in Hamilton" discussion. (It sounds suspiciously like my elementary school days - "Please, may I have a turn jumping rope?")

So in the middle of the interview, the interviewer solemnly says, "Now, I know Mr. Balsillie is not in Phoenix for this court date, but how does Mr. Balsillie keep in touch with you there? Does he stay in close contact with you while all of this is going on?"

Let me re-frame that question. How does Jim Balsillie, top guy of Research In Motion, creator of the Blackberry, stay in touch with his people in Phoenix?

Let's pause to consider that question, shall we?


...


I wanted so badly for the interviewee to give a deadpan response - "Well, Mr. Balsillie bought an i-phone, so...."

But he didn't.

No one caught that moment, just waiting to be exploited and laughed at.

But me? I shared the humour with myself, and then killed myself laughing at my own joke.

we interrupt our regular programming for this moment of joy

I seem to be emotional lately.

(No. I'm not. Pregnant, that is. Why do you automatically go there? Good grief!)

I think it's because life has intense seasons and this is one of them. And it's awfully apparent to me lately that there's a whole lotta pain in the world.

*sigh*

And I truly feel privileged to be allowed to share in painful moments, and maybe even help make them a bit less painful.

But ... oddly ... in intense seasons of life like this ... the pain is not what stirs my emotions so much. Nope. It's the joy.

Spontaneous, surprise moments of joy.

Like this one!



Thanks to my friend batman, who sent it to me.

at the car wash

i was that person today.

you know, the one holding the neon green sign with ''CHARITY CARWASH" in black magic marker.

yup. that was me.

standing precariously on the curb of a median.

smiling until my cheeks hurt.

saying good morning when the light worked against the drivers, and they were stopped beside me briefly.

assuring those stopped drivers that i wouldn't harrass them - that was me too.

feeling one arm slowly sunburn.

waving at the cars that acknowledged my existence.

thanking the ones who turned in to get their car washed.

that was me.

at the car wash.

today.

three cheers for Tiger Direct!

"You need to get an external hard drive, with one-button back-up, at least 250 gigs."



This is what I was told a few days ago, very nicely, but also firmly, by a friend. It may have been because, once again, I lost stuff I really, really need. You can read about the first time this happened, here. The most recent event is chronicled here.



I memorized the language of what I needed. I anticipated the questions they would ask. I found out what the approximate price should be. I finally realized that my friend was saying, "Maxtor" not "Mac Store". Which was a helpful realization.



And yesterday morning I ventured into Tiger Direct. I was the first customer there, waiting for the doors to be unlocked. "Good morning!" said the smiling door-opener. I walked into the store, and stood, looking around for a sign of any kind.



Within seconds, a woman came over, smiling - "Do you need some help? Let me get someone for you."



Note: Apparently helping customers is not her job, but she went and got someone whose job it is! *gasp*



A few seconds later, a salesman approaches me, smiling, hand extended to shake mine - "Hi, I'm Len. How can I help you?"



I recited my memorized speech, and even managed to ask if differences between Vista and XP would cause any issues in my church presentation software one-button back-up external hard drive thingy.



Don't get me started on Vista. Just don't. Trust me.



He listened to all that I told him, asked me where my church was, asked a technician about the Vista / XP question, and handed me what I wanted. Assured me that if there were any problems at all - "but there won't be" - just call, the technicians are always there. Walked me to the smiling cashier, who was equally friendly, and out I walked, wondering if a little piece of heaven existed in that store.



Drove back to the office. Opened the package. I bought the wrong product. In the midst of the pleasantries, apparently we missed the "external" part of my memorized statement.



So I went back, knowing - I opened the package. It's $100. They're not going to take it back. They're going to tell me that I didn't say "external" and I'm pretty sure I did. This is not going to go well.



I walked into the store, and AGAIN, within SECONDS - Len has seen me, and is coming straight over - "What happened? It didn't work? How can I help?"



I held up my opened package. "I need external," I said.



"Oh no," he said. "I'm so sorry. Well, you just return it right here ... and I will go and get you what you need."



By the time my return was processed, I turned around and there was smiling Len, with a smiling technician, holding a shiny new box, and assuring me that certainly THIS time, this was what I wanted. I asked the XP / Vista question again, and they had already considered it. Again, Len walked me to the cashier, apologizing for sending me out the first time with the wrong product, waited to ensure all went smoothly, and then patted me on the back and said, "Now you have a nice day."



The door-opener as I left was the cashier from the first time - "Nice to see you again," he said politely. For a moment, I wondered if someone was going to give me a hug and a cookie.



So I'm come home briefly to pick up a change of clothes and a pillow, because I'm pretty sure I'm moving into that place. Customer service like that is a rare and beautiful thing, and I don't want to miss one moment of it!

Three cheers for Tiger Direct!

parenthood, viewed by an outsider

I was at the grocery store the other day, whipping in, whipping out, in a hurry, as usual. Confidently navigated through the foot traffic outside the store, working my way in the direction of the car.

Noticed a little blond tot happily meandering in circles on the edge of the sidewalk. He was babbling away, as tots do, and it wasn't until I was passing him that I realized he was tentatively, calling, "Papa? ... Papa?" ... and he wasn't meandering in circles, he was looking around.

So I slowed, and looked around to see if any of the other adult shoppers seemed to be attached to this tiny tot-ler.

One man several feet away, was talking earnestly on his phone, conducting Very Important Business. I leaned in his direction and said, "Sir, SIR?? Is this your son??" He shook his head, shrugged, and turned away. As I say ... Very Important Business, I'm sure.

So I turned around and got ready to lean down to the little tot-ster. Just as I started asking him if he was lost, Papa came dashing across the parking lot, smiling his reassurance at me and his son. As I walked away, I heard him use one of those standard parent lines - "See?? This is WHY you have to hold someone's hand!!"

I climbed in the car, and backed out of my parking spot, which brought me right into the line of vision of my tot-erama friend. He was waiting for Papa to load his little sister in the car. And as he waited, unwatched by anyone except me for those few seconds, he leaned down giggling, and gleefully scooped parking lot water right into his mouth.

And that, my friends, is Reason #827 of "Why I Am Not A Parent".

Because if I WAS his parent, I would have had to take the whole thing quite seriously, instead of chuckling all the way home.