You're Doing It Right

On Friday, at work...

Me: So remember, you have to hold your [block of wood we are pretending is a guitar] down low, by your hips. Good. Then raise your left hand up high and bring it down in a power strum. That's right! And now, what do you say?

4 year old: FOR DOZE ABOUT TO WOCK, WE SAWUTE YOU!

CD player: Twinkle, twinkle, little star...

For M.C. who sometimes wonders why I do what I do and 

who needs to hear stories about good days.

Head Hunters

From a recent thread of emails to friends, I give you a demonstration as to why this blog sometimes writes itself.

About a Week Ago...
So the phone rings this morning and I picks it up and I says Hello, with a mouth full of my morning citrus fruit of choice.  Read on.

Voice: Hello, Tammy, this is [Name of Person I Do Not Know].

Me: (thinking, holy crap, some Telmate guy has found a loophole) How can I help you?

Voice: You sent a resume in to [Name of Center I Vaguely Recall] about two months ago and we are now beginning interviews.

Me: Ah, thank you for the interest however I am now employed with someone far less sinister sounding.

Voice: I can appreciate that, but before you go would you mind me asking what you make?

Me: Yes.

Voice: ...uh, okay well I'm prepared to offer you [Amount of Money That Would Make Traveling To Mexico an Annual Event], should yours be the interview that receives top marks. Just glancing over your resume, I can tell you that I am prepared to create a full time position, just for you, if you are the candidate we select.

This would have been more effective. And somehow less creepy.

Me: (looking for the hidden camera) Sorry, you are offering me a job that doesn't exist, based on an interview I have not agreed to, for a salary that sounds like a GPS location in another solar system. Is that correct?

Voice: Yes.

Me: ... I'll see you Thursday.

It's not as though I go out of my way to have these sorts of experiences, but this does seem to indicate that Hemingway sure did it the hard way.

One week later...

So. 

In an effort to prepare for my interview with Voice, I have selected a sharp black blazer (she's very polished and professional) over a graphic tee (though very fun and relaxed underneath) with dark-wash denim (but not interested in a career with you) and flats (because you don't give weekends, summers and Christmases off). I have also always wanted to try just absolutely blowing an interview, on purpose, by saying wildly outrageous things, putting stuff on the desk in my mouth and asking if I can 'keep the pen.' That is absolutely not going to happen this time. Probably. But I am looking forward to what a 'pitch interview' looks like. This is a first for me. I'm excited. However, unless the job comes with a life-sized Jason Statham Doll ('Now with life-like stubble!') I am not interested. 

Later that same afternoon...

Well. That was... interesting.

Voice: We're going to interview you now and then pretend to mull it over afterwards but essentially we really want you to come and work for us. 

Me: Sounds fun, let's go for it.

Voice: So, first question: seriously, come work for us.

Me: No.

Voice #2, blonde: Really. You should come work for us. Do you want to see my pay stub?

Me: No, thank you.

Voice #3, grandmotherly and Scottish and oh-so-tempting to say yes to for those reasons alone, which is probably why they brought her, the clever imps: Please.

Me: Gosh, it's all very flattering but... no.

Voice: Okay, we'll give you a chance to think it over and call you when we have the job description drafted.

Me: Thank you for your time.

Voice: Do you want tickets for the staff Christmas party now or...?

It was interesting. They honestly and sincerely asked me all of their standard interview questions, two of which I deliberately misinterpreted and still got congratulated for giving a 'really great answer, just really great'.

I found this whole process very gratifying in a 'I really have some mad skills' sort of way. The interview was very straightforward, the questions the sort you would expect and I enjoyed answering with anecdotes from my personal experience, as much for my own entertainment as theirs because I have worked in some fairly outrageous situations and I am just a delight when it come to personal anecdotes.  It was the most relaxing interview experience I have ever had and I highly recommend you all interview for jobs you absolutely don't need, it's fabulous for the ego. But I'm not changing jobs. Not even for better pay. 

What I get from the job I am in now is not money or the things it can buy. It is joy and laughter and tears and glue sticks; silly songs about the letter Q, spontaneous dancing and weekends and summers off to spend with Husband and distant friends and family. 

And let's face it, it's indoor work with no heavy lifting.  And glitter. So, so much glitter.

Conversations With Alberta

Jesse: Cold out now.
Alberta: It's only October, quit whining.

Jesse: I'm from an island where the snow falls on the mountain tops and the valleys stay green.
Alberta: Welcome to the real world. Wear booties.

Jesse: You're saying all of Canada is like this?
Alberta: Look on the bright side, at least there aren't tsunamis.

Jesse: I've never seen a tsunami. I've been cold for weeks.
Alberta: (laughing) I told you, it's only October.

Jesse: How much colder does it get?
Alberta: Ever slurped up an ice cube?

Jesse: Yes...
Alberta: Like that only more worse.

Jesse: I think I'll stay inside until it's all over.
Alberta: See you in June.

Still Not A Morning Person

If it takes longer for the sunrise to start, does that mean there's more morning or less?

I am not certain if that question is philosophical, scientific or stupid. Possibly all three. At any rate, my eyes are trained to slam open at 6 AM on the nose. Husband, who's name means "Death Wish" in his mother's native Nova Scotian, is up at least a half hour ahead of that and every other decent human being.  The only reason we are still blissfully happy together is that I have learned to sleep with earplugs in and Husband has become adept in the Ninja art of Not Waking The Wife. 

Usually, when I am finally able to wrench myself from the loving arms of my Morpheus Posturepedic, I am willing to do so because of a. coffee and b. the sweet, rosy fingers of dawn's early light.

Not in Alberta. In Alberta, 6 AM means it's still nearly two hours until sunrise.  And so the question remains, is this extra night or extra morning?

Extra night means that I am being robbed of at least two hours of Jenga Shots, movies, Spoons and sleep. Extra morning means that I am homicidal.

This blog entry is dedicated to the nearest Starbucks,180 km away. You bastards.

Always Yes

My dear friends, the ones who will likely know me years from now, the ones who are totally unsurprised by my insistence that Hallowe'en should be a STAT holiday, my absolute devotion to wearing toques after Labour Day and my horrified, purely sociological fascination with the psychology behind the anime fantasy genre and how it simply would never have arisen in our agrarian-based North American culture because we just don't find fish sexy...

Anyone? Anyone at all?

Those are the ones who said yes.

Yes is a very powerful word. It is permission and much more than that, it is acceptance. 

Yes is...

... agreeing to stop the car so that the load of people I am designatedly driving home can play in a senior's fitness park at 2 AM, then joining in and cartwheeling insanely across the ball fields. 
... watching boring TLN programming/medical/relationship dramas and/or paying to see Sex and The City in the theatre and not commenting out loud about the lack of zombies or explosions. Or plot.
... epically awesome Hallowe'en parties and equally epically boring New Years ones.
... joining a charity to spend time with a busy friend.
... planning a theme for nearly every get-together, just to have a reason to wear heels and a boa.
... hours and hours of Spoons around my kitchen table.
... surfing on a day that is too rough and rainy to surf and seeing whales as reward for that foolishness.
... understanding that dogs are family.
... patiently sitting next to people watching Twilight as a drinking game in the back of a theatre and totally not punching them or anything. 
...  rescuing me from a prom date disaster by faking a foot injury and going to Tim Horton's instead. 
... agreeing that St Patrick's Day is a far better day on which to celebrate my birthday.
... a cartoon-marathon/cereal/pajama party for no reason. 
... breakfast for supper.
... climbing aboard a friend's tiny little ocean-bound speed boat to go buy oysters we could just as easily get at the market, despite my fear of sharks, drowning, and sharks that would drown me. Twice.
... a six hour, not a two hour, hike.

Yes is important. When you say yes to opportunities, you can expect to wind up somewhere unexpected, in my case often covered in glitter and wondering where all the feathers came from. More importantly, when you say yes to people, you find friends you never hoped to have and would not trade for all the handmade wool toques in Nepal.  

Sadly, I have occasionally missed it when someone was saying yes in the only way they knew how, and some of the people to whom I have said yes have replied no and I don't hold it against them.  Some have joyously, wonderfully, said yes to me in return and we are the better for it, despite decades or distance.

I said yes to a random group of people chance tossed together a few nights ago and now we aren't strangers anymore.  The surprising fact that the common denominator turned out to be 'Jesus Christ, Vampire Slayer' is just one of those coincidences which the Universe holds in store for those who say and hear yes. Isn't that wonderful?   

For friends who reminded me that before we had to put our house on the market and be all grown up and stuff, I used to say yes more often. Thank you for the reminder. And for Neighbour Lady, who I hope will say yes someday. If not to me than to someone else, someone she trusts not to judge her penchant for Sponge Bob pajama pants or her curious twisty-bun ponytail look that makes her ears stick out.

How to Obtain and Use a Cold Lake Community Card or 'Rec Pass'

In 12 Easy Steps 

Step 1 

Go to the gym and ask the PSP front counter staff on duty for a Community Card registration form, as directed by the helpful MFRC Welcome Coordinator. Expect that this will be the only step.

Step 2

Get told that the registration needs the military member's name, rank, serial number, date of birth, shoe size, ice cream flavour preference and digital difference of left hand. Be assured that this is the only step.

Step 3

Chase down Husband who is on one of forty 'away' missions that are 100% necessary a mere 3 weeks into the posting.  Get required information. Share bemused looks via Facetime.

Step 4

Return with the required information filled out on the form. Get told that the member's Confusing and Useless Acronym Card must also be presented, although the member himself is not required. Be informed that this, certainly, will be the only step.

Step 5

Wait for Husband to get home.

Step 6

Wait some more.

Step 7

Request Confusing and Useless Acronym Card from returned Husband, who insists I perform a blood oath not to lose it. Like, ever. Seriously. 

Step 8

Guard Confusing and Useless Acronym Card with life from bears and terrorists and such. 

Step 9

Return with required information filled out on form and the Confusing and Useless Acronym Card. Present both to the PSP front counter staff. Get told the member himself must be present in order for the information to be validated. Receive assurance that this, finally, is the only step.

Step 10

Sweetly point out that at each step the helpful PSP front counter staff, various, had assured me that there was only one step. Focus discussion on the cheerful nature of the staff in question, on the busyness of the their days, on the understanding of the pressures of a front desk job.  Appeal to the PSP front counter staff's alleged humanity.  Point out that the member is not really required because, look, I have all the 'just one step' steps ticked off, right here. Finish with an encouraging smile.

Step 11

Receive Community Card.  Make dinner plans. Part as friends.

Step 12

Attend gym the next day.  Walk right in, do not get asked to present card. Wander the building a bit, use a treadmill, check out the staff lounge, rearrange office furniture in lobby, admire the pool and leave without being questioned at all, by anyone, in any way.

Fritti is not amused

They call the new thing Meeker. What a ridiculous name. It arrived last Thursday and immediately slopped water all over the kitchen floor, which the Two-Leggers completely failed to clean up so I had to walk through it. And it licked my food bowl, which has officially moved the threat level to DEFCON 1.

I have watched it closely for over a week and it seems to be similar to the Jesse-Thing, evidenced by it's obsession with sniffing my bottom. I just hope it's not allowed on my Sectional.

...

It's on my Sectional!  

This... is war.