Birds

So I managed to snap a few of our feathered friends earlier today.  Birds have these expressions that always make me laugh - especially robins.  Here's a selection.  The reason they're not crystal sharp is because they were taken through a window screen. 

 
The cats, meanwhile, couldn't care less.  Birds? What birds? We're napping!

 I caught this squirrel digging furiously at the base of the maple.

A starling stalking a worm.  And check out the blooms on my rhodedendron!

News from the Trenches

First, Happy Mother's Day to all you Moms out there!  :D   I am a Mom, but sadly my own Mom passed away five years ago.  I'm hoping to get a visit from my daughter today ... my son is away in PEI at college, I wonder if he'll think to send me a note on Facebook? 

So it's a beautiful sunny Sunday morning here in B-town.  I have my coffee and cinnamon raisin toast (nom!).  There's a guy across at the park with a metal detector and shovel.  What's he going to do, dig up the City's rhodedendron bed?  The Parks Department will have something to say about that!

I figured out (all by myself!) how to set up my tripod and telephoto lens, so that I don't look like a noob.  My husband says I'm "mechanically challenged".  What I have to do is work out how to do something by myself, when nobody's around to laugh at me.  All the while I'm talking to myself out loud, saying things like "come on you bitch" and "no, you stupid cow, that's not how it goes, it goes this way" and then eventually after some cursing and fumbling, I figure out how to do it properly.  Anyway I did it, and it's set up in front of the rear window, so hopefully I'll get some shots of the birds or squirrels or maybe if I'm lucky, a rabbit.

Cats are crazy this morning, catching spiders and charging up and down the stairs. 

OH!  And we may have finally sold our house!  The home inspection went very well yesterday, and apparently the guy has his financing, plus he's sold his place, so fingers crossed!  I'm not allowing myself to get too excited ... but I didn't sleep well last night because I kept thinking about what this means.


OK that's all for now.  If I get some cute wildlife pics I'll post them here later.

Happy Mother's Day to all. 

Lovely Day for a Run

And suddenly, overnight, it's spring.

I went for a run just now.  I mean, I actually went for a run.  Twenty minutes duration, of which half was running, the other half brisk walking.  I chose the public footpath that parallels the creek at the bottom of my garden rather than the pavement, mainly because I hate being watched.  Even so, when I reached the paved section past the townhouses, quite a few people were out and about.  I always feel like someone's going to yell out "Yo, old fat mama, give it up!" - especially the skinny teenagers whizzing by on their skateboards/bikes/rollerblades.


Of course, five minutes in, my left knee started to hurt.  I should mention that the footpath is extremely uneven, being essentially a natural creek bank, and is criss-crossed with tree roots.  Anyway like hell was I going to give up before I'd even begun!  I sat down on the concrete ledge above the culvert and watched the mallards swimming down the creek, and the wild grey rabbits bounding to and fro.  I saw black and grey squrrels, as well as a variety of birds: redwings, robins, thrushes and cardinals.  I watched the sun shimmer through the delicate draperies of weeping willow.  Then I got up and started to run again.

As I reached the paved section, I remembered some advice from a runner friend (thanks Ashley!): put your heels down first when you run.  I made a concerted effort to do this; and lo and behold, the pain in my knee vanished!  I was amazed, and very pleased, and managed to run to the main road without pain.  I turned around, walked a bit, then ran again, turning off at the townhouses to take the footpath back along the creek, alternating run/walk until I reached my house.

All in all, I was quite happy with how it went.  It's been dry today, so my sneakers didn't get too muddy, and my new grey jogging pants from Winners are really comfortable and didn't make me too hot. 

In case anyone's interested, here are some photos of my running route.  (not taken today, of course - these were taken last year, but it's still the same)

Yours, Randomly

Weird things:

I can suddenly eat apples, and sushi.  Not entirely sure why; possibly something to do with running?

Irritating things:

When people refer to Prince William as "Will".  His name is not, and never has been, Will.  His mother stated when he was born that he was to be known familiarly as "Wills".  Same deal with Prince Henry: he is to be known familiarly as "Harry".  That's the end of it. 

Note to non-Brits:  Diana was/is regarded as a saint by the vast majority of English people.  You don't mess with that. 

Inconsequential things:

It's finally stopped raining.  I'll be cutting the grass tonight!

The King's Breakfast

There's one thing I've never been able to understand about Canadians: why do you make sandwiches with dry bread?  So disgusting.  Makes the sandwich so dry and tasteless, not to mention, the contents fall out due to not having anything to stick to.  When I ask for butter on the bread, I get stared at as though I have two heads.  Even expensive catered sandwiches are served on dry bread. 

Furthermore, I was at a very high-end restaurant and they served a variety of breads, rolls, etc. in a basket while we were waiting to order (as you would expect), but instead of offering a plate with butter, they gave us a little dipping bowl of oil, that not only looked gross, but smelled distinctly raunchy.  I asked for butter, and was met with baffled glances from my fellow diners, and a peremptory shake of the head from the waiter, who said that they do not serve butter as most diners "prefer a healthier option".  I'm sorry, dunking my bread roll into a vat of rancid oil is healthy?

WHAT THE FUCK, CANADA.

The King's Breakfast by A.A. Milne

Thoughts on "the Good Life"

Thoughts on "the Good Life," aka my gym:

• Why do they play nothing but angry nigger music?
• Why is my towel always half the size of everyone else's?
• Why does the fat lady in the white high-waist knickers have to sit on the bench and spend fifteen minutes slathering her entire body in lotion?  I mean, I know it's important to moisturize, but come on - do that at home.
• Why are the 5 lb weights always gone?
• Why is every TV monitor set to the Y&R?

Thanks for listening.

A Punch in the Face

I'm sick of this passive-aggressive bullshit.  Here's a conversation I had recently with a colleague:

Her: "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
Me: (assuming it's work-related, as I hardly know this person) "Sure."
Her: "Are you by any chance diabetic?"
Me: (with a slight frown) "Uh, no?"
Her: "Oh. Oh, wow. Okay."
Me: (a little irritated, but curious) "Any particular reason you should ask?"
Her: "Oh. Well, you know.  You've always had that pot belly, haven't you?  So I just assumed ... right?  That maybe you were diabetic."
Me: (woodenly) "Pot belly."
Her: "Yeah.  But don't feel bad, a lot of people have that."

Yeah, but not you, you 20-something stick-insect. 

So before I blow something or someone up, take note: if you don't like me, don't talk to me.  If you despise me, step on my foot.  If you actively loathe me, punch me in the face.  But please, for pete's sake, let's drop all this passive-aggressive nonsense.  I'm not your friend, you're certainly not my friend, so stop trying to psych me out with the condescending tone of voice and the patronising manner.  I've had it.  A punch in the face may sting for a while, it may not be pleasant at the time, and it may leave a mark for a couple of days.  But it will definitely hurt less.

The Pillow Book of Miss Particular

(a blog post written in the style of The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon. A wonderful, inspiring, must-read.)

Irritating Things:

People who barge into the elevator without waiting for the persons inside to step out.
Someone microwaving onions at ten-thirty in the morning.
Women you've only just met, who call you "hon".

Amusing yet Annoying Things:

Women trying to walk in heels two sizes too big.
Women who dress in men's clothes and with a man's haircut, and yet talk stridently about "women's rights".
Jack Layton.

Rare and Lovely Things:

A robin sitting on the roof of my car this morning.  He stayed there until I began to pull away.
The first daffodil in my garden, a splash of sunshine yellow, like the frill of a summer dress, peeking out from the tight green sheaf.

The Daily Snark

Things Not To Do On Public Transit:

1. Clip your fingernails.
2. Slather cream all over your hands.
3. Hum.
4. Whistle.
5. Mutter verses from a religious text.
6. Reveal the final score of last night's hockey game.
7. Talk loudly about a sensitive business transaction.
8. Adjust your thong.
9. Eat spaghetti.
10. Change your pants.


Inspired by my twice-daily train commute.  Believe it or not, I've witnessed every one of the above.

Progress Report

Just got back from gym.  A little irritated that I've still only lost 2 pounds.  Today I made it to 20 minutes continuous 2-minute walk, 2-minute run sessions.  I was pretty pleased with myself because that pushed me over the one mile mark!

I'm trying to drink more water during the day, as I know I don't drink enough.  I was somewhat surprised to find that the traditional "8 ounces" that you're supposed to drink six of in the course of one day, is only equivalent to one standard cup measure, that is, 250 ml.  That's like, a tiny amount!  For some reason I always thought 8 ounces was one of those tall beer glasses?  Anyway I was quite relieved, because I think I could actually manage 6 x 250 ml a day.

But why have I only lost 2 pounds??!!  Surely it should be at least 5 by now?  Of course it doesn't help that my beloved husband surprises me after dinner with Haagen-Daz caramel chocolate ice-cream. 

WANT.

Courtesy of Mr. Particular:  I WANT THIS.

Yes, I am insane.

Just scrubbed my bathtub until it shone.  Now I'm sitting down with a nice cup of green tea and an organic peanut butter sandwich, so why don't I tell you about my day?

This morning I got up at 3 am and drove 5 hours to see a man about a house.  We stood around complaining about lawyers for an hour, then I drove 5 hours home.  Now, what's the best thing to do when you've just spent 10 hours driving?  Scrub the bathroom, of course!  Seriously, by the time I got home I was so hyper, I spent from 4 pm to 7:45 pm doing housework.  The end result of this effort, quite apart from (obviously) a nice clean house, is that I feel all tingly, not to mention my fingernails are really clean.

Now, it seems to me that if married folks spent more time doing housework than they do galivanting, marriages would last longer.  (Kindly note that I said folks, not women.  So you feminist types can just hold your wad there, sistah.)

Stand by your arteries

Sometimes I wonder about the state of humanity.  In an idle moment at the office, I did a search for leek soup.  This one caught my eye because it was titled Low Carb Cauliflower Leek Soup.  The intro suggests that this is "great for those watching their carbs or calories."  All was well until I reached the second ingredient: "three tablespoons butter."  Uh, that's about 300 calories right there.  The last ingredient is "1 cup heavy cream (optional)".  Heck, I'm sure relieved it's optional because that's gonna run you about 800 calories, Bubba. 

There's one commenter who says "I love this soup and have it for lunch nearly every day."  You might want to get your cholesterol checked, lady.  It may well be low carb, but there's one thing this soup is not, and that's low calorie. 

I'll have a side of angioplasty please ...

Gripe of the Day

People who stop dead at the top (or bottom) of the escalator and proceed to stand and chat.

I ran today.

No, you don't understand: this is a big deal.  I've never been a runner.  I've never been able to run.  I can walk for miles and miles, and I think my fitness level is pretty average - I go to the gym two or three times a week, I try to eat healthy.  But I used to be such a skinny minnie and over the years, well, the weight creeps up and the waistline gets thicker ... you know what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about what used to be called middle age spread.  Now, that sounds to me like something pretty disgusting that you slap on toast, but in fact it's that phenomenon where, when you hit a certain age, your belly suddenly starts to develop a roll.  Then before you can say double fudge brownie you bend over and you've got two rolls.  It's at that point when anyone with an ounce of self-respect says "Whoa!" and vows to take action.

As far as I can tell, running is the hands-down most effective way of burning fat and boosting cardio health.  Plus, it's the perfect excuse to spend money at Lululemon.  So, armed with some excellent advice from a runner friend, off I went to the gym.  I was amazed that her tips worked, and lo and behold, I managed to run!  Not very far, mind you - only a tenth of a mile at a time, then walk a tenth, run a tenth, and so on - but I managed 3 rounds over 10 minutes, which to me was a miracle of Biblical proportions.  I actually felt like I could have run more; I wanted to run more.  But I stuck to her instructions not to overdo it and carried on with the rest of my workout.  But man - running felt good. 

Now, cover your eyes, because I'm going to post some vital statistics, just so I can track my progress:

Gender: Female
Age: Older than Shania Twain but younger than Madonna
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 145 lbs
Pants Size:10

Goal Weight: 125 lbs
Goal Pants Size: 6
Particular Goal: to feel comfortable in a bikini again.

Okay, you can open your eyes again!  I really hope I can keep up with the running, and improve in increments.  I'll post progress as I go.

The Daily Snark

I saw a woman this morning carrying a tiny purse, covered in zips and buckles.  It was a proper purse, with a shoulder strap and everything, but I have to wonder what in tarnation is she going to put into it?  A lipstick?  One teabag? A single tampon?  That's about all it had room for.  You couldn't even fit a teacup poodle in there.  Granted, it was shiny, and it probably cost her a week's groceries, but still.

See, I used to be the anti-purse.  I prided myself on carrying a wallet like a man, and nothing else.  I didn't need anything else, darn it!  That all ended when I started wearing reading glasses.  Which begs the question, what do men do with their reading glasses?  Where do they put them?  (Yes, alright - inside pocket.  Which means a jacket.  I'm a girl.  I don't wear jackets with inside pockets.)  But I digress; where was I? Oh yes, purses. 

When I finally realized I was, in fact, a woman, and did, contrary to all my quasi-militant tomboy tendencies, require a purse, I did not go out and sink precious housekeeping money into either a teensy-weensy bit of patent leather that wouldn't hold a pack of gum, or its monstrous cousin, the sack.  I'm sure you've seen women walking around with the sack: a shapeless fabric bag stuffed so full it threatens to break the bearer's shoulder.  It is distinctly unattractive and makes the bearer look like a hobo.  No, when I finally caved, I bought a satchel. 

Here: I love it so much I posted a picture.  Seriously, ladies, within about five minutes this became My New Favourite.  I've had it over a year now and I absolutely adore it.  It's not too big, not too small, I can fit my wallet, chequebook, sunglasses and yes, those all-important reading glasses into it.  It has handy separate zipped pockets so that smaller items such as keys and lipstick don't get lost; and best of all, my cellphone fits in the front latched pocket so I no longer have to dig for my cell when it rings.  The leather is amazing quality, buffs up a treat with a bit of dubbin, and Roots will even replace, for free, any fittings such as zippers, etc. if they break.  Now that's old-fashioned customer service.

Shameless Promo:  Roots Canada

Here endeth the Snark of the Day.  Please feel free to comment, or if you have a snark of your own, I'd love to hear it.

The Zen of Housework

I love housework.  No, I'm serious: housework really does rule.  And before you start tutting and shaking your head, I'm by no means your stereotypical suburban housewife.  For one thing, I'm a writer, and everyone knows that writers are eccentric.  I'm also a perfectionist, and if there's one thing I enjoy, it's cleaning house.  Now, a lot of my friends employ cleaners, and some of them have suggested that I, as a gainfully-employed 21st century woman, might do the same; after all, I'm a homeowner, I have a cat, and a husband, etc. etc. 

I did consider it - but I can tell you right now what would happen: the minute the cleaner's car pulled out of my driveway I'd be retracing her steps with a duster and mop.  You see, nobody cleans my house quite like me.  They miss spots.  They move stuff and don't put it back properly.  They do a half-assed job.  There's cat fluff in the corner of the sofa: I can see it!  There are crumbs under the stove!  And the fridge - don't even talk to me about the state of the fridge.  And my antique crystal decanter - a family heirloom, mind you - has been moved half an inch to the left. 

No, I won't be hiring a cleaner any time soon.  Cleaning my house just makes me so happy.  It's also really useful vis-a-vis the writing process. You have no idea how many thorny plot problems I've resolved while dusting.  It's like, a meditative writer's tool.  No, wait: it's The Zen of Housework.  Almost, but not quite, as fulfilling as writing itself.

N.B.: I stole borrowed the graphic above from 50s Housewife.  Her blog is great - go check it out!