Sunday, June 28, 2009

I Love Not Wearing Pants, But Whoa...

On Friday I almost walked out of the house with no pants on.
And I wasn't wearing a skirt, either. Or shorts. Just underwear.
Now if someone else told me that they had almost walked out of the house with no pants, I would have laughed, but wondered to myself how in the world anyone could almost do that. I mean, come on! It's pants! A bottom to go with your top! Something to protect you from the wind, rain, snow, sun, perverts, hot leather seats, etc. How could you possibly forget you weren't wearing them?!
I'm here to tell you that you can forget that you're not wearing pants.
When you're getting a one-year-old ready for the day, eating breakfast, doing laundry, making coffee, checking your email, updating your twitter, looking at pictures and packing a diaper bag - it can happen.
When you've already got the diaper bag and your purse on your shoulder, your flip flops on, your travel mug in your hand, and a baby on your hip, it's always a good idea to look down. Just once, to make sure that you are indeed fully dressed.
And when you realize that you're not, put everything down, swear in disbelief, have a really good laugh, and put your damn pants on.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Am I Getting Too Old For This?

I'm 29.

I know, I know - 29 isn't old. Believe me, no matter how much I bitch and moan about it, I realize that I'm still on the young side.

I've said before that I don't plan on being old till I'm dead, and I firmly believe that.

But I've started to wonder, am I getting too old for certain things?

Things like sleepovers, and pigtails, and drinking pretend wine (sparkling apple juice) from a real wine glass...those sorts of things.

Am I now one of those people that people will look at now and say "She's too old to be wearing a skirt that short!" or "I can see her bra strap peeking out from under her shirt, I thought it was only 16 year-olds that did that..."

I've been talking this over with a couple people, and I honestly don't know.

But the one thing that I'm wondering about - the one thing that will break my heart to have to give up because I'm "too old" - is the flowers I wear tucked behind my ears in the summer.
I don't do it every day, but I adore wearing them. It makes me feel summery, and flirty, and youthful and happy. The idea of being too old to do it genuinely makes me sad, but I wonder if it makes me look ridiculous.

But really, being the person that I am, and never really caring much for what other people might think is ridiculous about me, I guess I don't really care.

Yeah, you know what? As I've sat here reading this over, I really don't care! Flowers are me and they make me happy, so I'm wearing them. And that is that.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Random Parking Lot Idiots

I work smack dab in the middle of downtown Winnipeg. If I was one block over I'd be in the actual center.

As you can imagine, the cost of parking is hideous. I would expect dinner, a movie and sex for the amount you have to pay in most lots.

Luckily for me, right behind my building - and after walking underneath an overpass which houses some train tracks - there is a ginormous parking lot. Or, more specifically, there is a huge expanse of gravel which the City of Winnipeg charges you 5 bucks a day to park in. I consider this a steal, so I park there throughout the spring, summer and fall. Once winter rolls around though, I upgrade to the more costly lots so I can plug my car in. If you don't get -50 temps in the winters, you probably don't get that, but don't you worry.

Anyways, it's basically just a free-for-all of where you're going to park in this beautiful dirt lot.
Most people are smart, and will park in rows, two vehicles deep. This ensures that everyone can get out when their day is done.

But of course, as in any situation, there are always idiots.
Take Idiot #1. He came into the lot late, but decided that he didn't want to walk an extra 20 feet, so he parked directly behind one of the first cars in. In his laziness, he failed to notice that there was already someone on the other side of the car he parked up against.

Now when poor Jim comes out of the government office and needs to get home, he'll be stuck in between the guy that parked properly behind him, and Idiot #1.

Then we have Idiot #2. As with Idiot #1, he was being a lazy ass. He decided to park at the end of a row of cars, ensuring himself a straight shot out of the lot when he was done his day. Little does he care, or realize, that the people parked to the left of him will be unable to get out of their spots until he comes and moves his 1995 Ford Taurus shitbox out of the way.

So far, neither of these types of idiots has boxed me into my spot. That being said, I have absolutely no issue with slashing all 4 of the tires of anyone that is stupid enough to actually do it.

*Please don't be jealous of my mad graphics skills. For a small fee, I can whip you up some top of the line art for your blog, as well.

Um, Whoops?

Just got in trouble for not posting in so long.
I honestly didn't realize I'd been such a slacker.
I'll post tonight, promise.
Have a great day!

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

You Got a Burger to go With That Shake?!?!

Outside my office building there is currently a construction crew ripping up the avenue and back lanes. The whole process is supposed to take about 4 weeks, with only 1 down so far, and apparently it will result in smoother driving surfaces and a nicer parking lot. Not that I drive on that particular surface, or park in that lot, but no matter.
Every morning (and lunch hour, and evening) there are a whack of guys outside - some working, some smoking, some standing - but all looking. At everyone. Or more precisely, at every woman. So far I haven't actually heard any whistles, or comments, but they don't even try to hide the fact that they're checking you out. They very blatantly stare, craning their necks as you pass, and pretty much watch till you're at your destination.
I've decided that the guys sitting in the trucks, waiting for the holds to be filled up have the best job. They literally just get to hang out in the cab, listening to music and watching the passers-by, then every few hours they drive somewhere and drop all the old asphalt off.
If I ever become a construction worker I'm going to try my damnedest to get the truck job. And I'm going to ogle and whistle in appreciation aaaaallllllll day.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Enough is Enough - Lesbian Doctor, May I Have an Appointment?

Remember a while ago when I was whining about being sick? And about how it lasted for just shy of a month?

Well the healthy spell after it lasted about 6 days.

Last Friday I was making crazy animal sounds in the car to keep Ellery entertained, and all of a sudden I felt a burn in my throat. I coughed for a few minutes, then decided to just tone down the monkey shrieks and tiger roars and all would be right with the world again.

Then later that night I started to cough. This really tight, wracking cough that makes me wish for the sweet release of a lung from my body, just so I can stop hacking.

But no dice.

When my mom called me on my birthday she listened to me for about 7 seconds before yelling "Are you sick again?! Is this the same thing as before? Is it something new?!?"

I told her it felt different than last time. I said that Chris had bent down to kiss me the night before, cupping my face in his hands, and I had almost cried when he touched the glands in my neck because they were so swollen.

"Alison Anne! You call and make a doctor appointment! Tomorrow! This is ridiculous! You've been sick for months!!!"

I tried telling her this was something new and that it would go away on its own, but she wouldn't hear anything about it. She knew anyways - smart woman that she is - that my dad would be talking to me next, and that he could probably convince me to go.

Sure enough, he wished me a happy birthday, then he lowered his voice, and talked very slow and soothingly, as if to a five year old..."Okay babe, you sound pretty awful." I told him I knew that, but that I was sure I was fine. "Yeah okay, you think that honey, but you're not a doctor. This is no good and you should go get checked out, mkay?" Then before I realized it I was talking in a little voice myself "Okay, daddy."

I don't think I'll ever grow out of being a little girl with him.

As of this morning I had yet to call, but when I sat down at my desk at work and realized that every single part of my body was aching, on top of the aching chest and throat and oh-so-sexy bark, I called the husband and he booked me an appointment. For Monday morning. With our old, lesbian doctor. The one who strips me naked for an earache or a stubbed toe. The one I am in the process of transferring away from, but have forgotten to take care of some paperwork, thus am still her patient.

I'm praying that I get better over the weekend, or Monday morning is going to have me in for a sexual assault in the form of a check-up.

Note to self: Next week, finish the transfer paperwork and get yourself officially signed up with the movie-star look-a-like doctor who agreed to take you as a patient last year.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Spectacles and Cornea Damage

I'm going to get my eyes checked today. I have no doubt that I'll need new glasses because my eye sight seems to have totally gone down the crapper. I noticed it before I was pregnant, then noticed that it seemed to be worse while I was pregnant, but decided to wait.
I read somewhere once that your eyes can change while you're pregnant, but that sometimes it can go back to the way it was, so holding out for a bit seemed like the best option.
I hate getting my eyes checked though. Not the actual exam, but that one test they do that tests your eye pressure. Where you look into that machine, focus on an image and it blows a puff of air at your corneas so hard that you'd swear your eyes were now up against the back of your skull? I loathe that test.
I used to nearly hyperventilate when I knew that test was coming. I would panic, and close my eyes, and swear - at one office I had two ladies trying to distract me with random dirty jokes, just because I was freaking so bad.
The last time though, I found that they had refined it a bit so that now it just feels like my eyes are getting a tiny puff of air. Much more manageable.
Plus, I love picking out new glasses! Is that nerdy of me? I only wear them when I'm driving or in a movie theatre or something, but I do love them. I actually find glasses quite sexy on most people. Maybe not the coke bottle thick, taped up, so-big-they-cover-your-entire-cheek kind, but for the most part, glasses are hot. And they make people look smart. I love smart people.

Okay, enough random babbling about my eyeballs...

Monday, June 08, 2009

My Last Birthday...Ever?

Today I turn 29.

More precisely, I turn 29 at 6:36pm tonight.

I'm not super excited about it, but not really upset about it either.

On the one hand I'm like: Duuuuuuude. It's my last year in my 20's. My last year being "young." My last year before I have to be a "real" grown-up.

But on the other hand I'm like: So? I've been married forever, I've already got a kid, a sedan, a career, and a pretty sweet life, so what's the big whup?

Basically, I don't care about being 29, I just didn't like looking in the mirror on Friday and noticing some fine lines around my eyes.

That sucked.

Ah well, happy Monday!!!!

Thursday, June 04, 2009

Daily Commute Obervations

Every morning I leave my house by about 7:30 to begin the drive downtown. As I'm driving I'm usually listening to music, sipping my coffee and dancing wildly - much to the chagrin and disdain of my fellow commuters. The frowns and disapproving looks they get on their faces when they glance over and see me being all peppy and happy in the morning is a dead giveaway of their annoyance.

I find that about 88% of the vehicles are full of women, and that most of them tend to look about 47. They also seem to all look very haggard, and a little disheveled. You know the type - the ones in your office who are sporting the business suits from about 13 years ago, with the shoulder pads and large yellow gold jewellery? That never wear anything over a one inch heel, consistently have runs in their pantyhose, and that always look like they haven't had a decent haircut since 1985? (Not that there are anything wrong with those women - they are just the ones that seem to be commuting every morning.)

Anyway, so every morning I drive downtown in a sea of these women. The other 12% of the vehicles are made up of delivery trucks, construction trucks, City of Winnipeg vehicles, and transit buses.

But the commute home is what always boggles my mind.

It seems that sometime between when I start work at 8 and leave for home at 4, all of those women become men. During the drive home when I look around (still dancing wildly) I always notice that there are barely any women.

Suddenly there are Mazda Miatas with 63 year old men behind the wheel, SUVs full of 30 and 40 year old guys with a buddy in the front seat, dudes on motorcycles and street bikes, and good old boys in pickup trucks that don't look like they belong in the city.

Now here are my questions: When I drive to work in the morning, are the men still at home or already at work? Do the women just stay later than their required 8 hours?

Or is what I really think is happening, actually true... the reason the men all look so disheveled and odd in the morning because they are actually all in drag, and by the end of the day are sick of being "all dolled up" and decide to just be dudes?

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Mornings and a Ruined Flow

Mornings are one of those times when I like to be organized. I find that being a Gemini seems to keep most of my life pretty hectic, so I've found that I've always enjoyed having a little time every morning all to myself, to get ready for the day.

When it was just the husband and I, that was easy. On days when he worked he would be out of the house by 6:40am, then I would get up and go about my morning routine. When he didn't have a shift that day, he would stay in bed and completely out of my way.

Once Ellery came along things changed, but since I didn't have to work it wasn't too tough. My routine just got shifted to a later time slot, usually when she was having a morning nap.

Now one thing about this morning routine is that if it gets interrupted, or time shifted at all, I'm thrown off. I hate that feeling. I'm not entirely obsessive compulsive, and it's not like I have a breakdown or anything, but I feel disheveled when it happens.

My mornings have been thought out and strategically organized: I get up at 5:30 every morning and go for a run. I'm usually home just after 6, then I hop in the shower and throw on some makeup. Next I make my way to the kitchen and turn on the coffee pot, then blow dry my hair, plug in my straightener, grab some cereal and go sit in the living room and eat in blissful silence. Then I head back to the kitchen, pour a cup of coffee, get dressed, straighten my hair, brush my teeth, grab my lunch and a coffee to go, and head out to my car.

The other thing is, I always have my lunch ready and in a bag in the fridge, the coffee is set to go and just needs to be turned on, I try to have my clothes more or less laid out, and I have everything otherwise - ipod, phone, flashdrive, keys, sunglasses etc. - all ready in my purse. For me anyways, I find it best to be organized since it's so easy for me to lose my train of thought.

On days when I have to take Ellery to daycare, the way we do things changes a little to make time for waking her up, feeding her a bottle, getting her dressed, feeding her breakfast, getting her outside clothes on, and having a few minutes of play time, but still it's pretty organized.

So when something happens like my husband strolling into the washroom just when I'm about to take a shower, or Ellery waking up early, or having a poopy diaper when I'm supposed to be straightening my hair, it throws me off.

For years now I've been telling Chris that he throws off my flow. And that's exactly what he does, he disrupts my routine and throws everything into upheaval. Okay, so it's not that bad, but it does throw me off, and actually makes me a bit cranky. I'm forever yelling "You're ruining my flow!"

You'd think by now he would know just to stay the hell out of my way in the mornings, wouldn't you? Hehe.

*Hmm, reading this over, I sound a little neurotic - but quite honestly, it's the only part of my life where I'm a little organized.

Monday, June 01, 2009

That Stink!

I have a peeve about public restrooms that goes well beyond my issues with people leaving enough pubes on the toilet seat to knit a sweater.
My issue is the stink.
You know the one I'm talking about - where you walk in and are assailed with a stench so foul that your eyes tear and you start to gag?
Yeah, you guys know. I hate walking in on that.
First off, it's just gross. I mean, everybody poops, but what exactly are you eating that it smells like rotting cauliflower and battery acid mixed with roadkill on a hot summer day?
Second, it's awkward if you happen to be walking in just as the culprit is walking out of their stall. What are you supposed to do? Fake a smile while you're wiping the tears off your cheeks and pretend it wasn't them?
Thirdly, once the person leaves and you're left in the bathroom, you're just a sitting duck for the next person that walks in. You know damn well that once they come in, see you standing at the sink washing your hands, then take a whiff, they're going to immediately think you're the one who stunk up the joint.

You just can't win.