The Best Mood For Writing

Hey guys. My bad on the whole non-blogging month of February. Busy and in no mood to write. Sucky. However, my mood has drastically changed as of a whole five minutes ago. I met my writing inspiration: Karen Kingsbury... in STARBUCKS. It's like 2 dreams in one.
Mom and I just landed in Miami 2 hours ago, and tomorrow we will set sail for the tropics. KK is hosting a group on the cruise, and we just happened to 'run into each other' (Side note: How many people can say that? 'Ya, so today I was just, you know, grabbin' a Tall Non-Fat Decaf Latte at the Buck and along walks in one of the women who inspired me to start writing in the first place. Like, obviously, a daily, casual occurrence that's no big deal. NOT. [the other woman shall remain nameless at this time]').

Most of you know me as the type who tends to speak her mind. Not today. Completely starstruck. I shyly approach her entourage, and quietly asked for picture. Boy, I'm sure glad I did because now I have solid proof of this encounter. This is not my imagination. I repeat, this is not my imagination. See:

Also, because I promised, here's a pic of the house. But this really doesn't matter to me at all right now. It's completely out of obligation.

Inter Office Emails

Sorry I've negleted you. I've been busy.

House. Dog. Job.

Anyway, this post will hopefully tie you over until I can post pics of the house, the dog, and maybe I'll throw one in there of me and the hubby.

So I've joined the world of inter office emails. So has Ryan. To sum it up, it bothers me. These emails are basically a device that allows one person to send a message to another person that could be a maximum of 10 feet away. Is it seriously impossible to just get out of your office chair and side step twice to give them the message in person? To me, this system is the equivilent of high school girls texting each other during class while they sit beside each other. You can't tell me there is no difference.

Another parallel: Receiving the text message 'K' from a person who decides that it's necessary to let you know they understand. Wouldn't they let you know if they didn't? Can't we just take silence as understanding sometimes? I'll admit, I've sent one or two 'K's in my time, but usually I send them while I'm in a state of ditz.

Have any inter office email stories for me? Share them, please :)

Christmas!

Hey, all. Sorry I've been ignoring your need to read my blog and realize your life is much more uncomplicated and much more relaxing. I'll fill you in quickly while I still have the internet connection I've jacked from my brother's wellness clinic.

The move went well. I'm so sick of packing, and I'm sure that when I begin unpacking I'll be finding barbeque tools with left over cereal boxes and a lonely can of tuna all stuffed in a box. Filling the left over boxes went by in a bit of a blur. My exams were 'meh'. There are only so many major Canadian historical events that took place after Confederation in 1867 that one brain can remember. Still don't have a mark, so I'm taking that as a good sign--he's probably in awe of my insight of how the Maritime Rights Movement impacted Canadians' outlook on decreasing tariffs. Take that, History 102.

We are so glad to be back home with our families (ahem...my niece) for the holidays :) We will be enjoying our stay at both family homes until our house finally arrives mid-January. And since I'm the most patient person on the planet (obviously), it will be a piece o' cake.

I've been found out and summoned off the computer, so enjoy your week or two of holidays and have a very merry Christmas!!

7 Reasons Why 11 Days Can't Go By Fast Enough

Did you get my title? 7Eleven, like the gas station? It was a stretch, I know. Regardless, let me cut to the chase. We're outta here in 11 days. Reasons why I'm impatient:

1) My niece. She's walking and pointing (apparently, that takes priority over learning to talk for her), and I'm missing it. For 11 more days.

2) History exam. I've had about enough of the impacts of the Quiet Revolution or the reasons why Diefenbaker was unfit to run a country, let alone a 1960s style washing machine. It's a wonder why I find the time to blog amidst studying those two rather important moments in history. A side of procrastination, anyone?

3) Research Paper. Not just any research paper, of course, but a research paper about the influence of collaborative learning in a post-secondary composition class on student motivation and the building of classroom community. Wow, I may have just found my thesis.

4) Packing. I hate it. I kind of just want to throw/give everything away and watch as all those wedding gift cards appear before my eyes again so that we can just re-buy everything when we get home.

5) Rain. Blech. Give me a foot and a half of snow any day. I swear my toes have started webbing together.

6) Neighbours. Upstairs. Downstairs. Upstairs we have 'the movers': one large dose of floor sander sprinkled with a bit of marital UNbliss. Downstairs we have 'one small UNhappy family': one large dose of lack of communication sprinkled with a little less holiday cheer than the rest of us.

7) I cannot stress this more. My NIECE. See 1. She counts for 2 reasons.

The Joys of Moving

We're moving! As you already know. I have exactly 20 days before we hit the road and a lot to accomplish in that short amount of time. 3 English assignments, 2 stupid exams, and a lot of packing to do *sung in the tune of 12 days of Christmas*. I've begun a small amount of packing: a box of summer clothes here, a box of nick nacks there.

Questions for you all: Do I seriously have to wait until two days before moving to pack kitchen stuff, winter clothes, etc etc? That'll drive me crazy, but I can't think of another way.

Actually, I can. They way our upstairs neighbours move. They've been 'moving' for 3 months now. They're moving as I write this. I can hear them. This list below is what we hear every other day (everyday sometimes if we're lucky):

-Multiple people wearing 10lbs hiking boots clomping around up there for at least 3 hours at a time.
-Dribbling of basketballs, we think.
-Floor grinding renovations that have been taking place for about 6 six weeks.
-The occasional marital dispute that heightens to vulgar language and lamp throwing, we assume.

That sounds like a way more efficient way of moving to me. You ask "How do you know they're moving if it has been going on for months on end?"

"Well," I say, "We know they are moving because we met her on a joyous elevator ride about a month ago. She was carrying a heavy box, and she stated, 'The joys of moving, eh?'. After that, the elevator got awkwardly quiet as we cursed our extremely slow ascent."

So yes, they're moving in the most prolonged and noisiest way EVER.

But seriously, where is a good place to find boxes?

Superheroes and Neglect (Two Different Instances)

I apologize, folks. I've been neglecting you. Do you feel neglected, or are you completely overwhelmed and excited that Christmas is a mere 37 days away?! You're probably excited about Christmas, which is why you should turn on your Christmas music this instant! (reread that with your best angry mother voice)

Aside from the fact that I am totally psyched about this holiday season, I have new (additional) reasons this year. Old and still extremely relevant reasons being: Jesus' birthday, same month my niece was born, wrapping all of our doors in wrapping paper (in that order). My new reason is that Ryan and I are permanently moving home right before Christmas! YAY! I know you've all missed us so incredibly much over the past 2 and a half years, but miss no more! We bought a house, Ryan has his dream job, and I am DONE school...for now. Don't worry though, I will still continue blogging regardless of my geographical location.

And now for the superhero part. Two things.

1. I have a professor named Robin. And I always picture him in the costume that Robin wore on the 90s Batman shows. You know, the ones with the animated letters that would take over your TV screen? POW! KA-BANG! and so on. Holy Kleenex, Batman! It was right under our noses and we blew it!

2. I'm incredibly proud of these people. I laugh hysterically at what they did but still proud. Click HERE and you'll see what I'm talking about.

Enjoy.

Don't Look!

It's November! So, look behind you at your calendars. Change the month so that I can have peace of mind. I hate it when calendars are left months behind. Last month, I spotted my parents calendar on the wrong month while Skyping with my mother. *shutter*That's not really where I was going with this post, but I just want to be sure that you have all changed your calendars to the right month. Phew.

Recently, as in our last grocery shop, Ryan told me 'not too look at something'. Don't you hate it when people tell you 'Don't look!'. For instance: when someone is peeing on the side of the road OR when someone is wearing a polka dot patter, stripe pattern, and a floral all at the same time? I hate it. So I looked. At what? you ask. I can't remember, but that's not the point. The point is that I broke out into a 1970s pop song: "The Streak".

I shouted: "I said, 'Don't look, Ethel!...Too late. She'd already been mooned.'"

Now, those of you 40+ will probably know the song I'm referring to. Ryan did not. I shouldn't, but I do thanks to my parents collection of 70s and 80s pop hits. Anyway, he doubted me. HE did not think that the song existed; that someone would actually write a song and that it would become a hit with those lyrics. I proved him wrong, everyone. Thank you, YouTube.

Take a peek (pun intended). Click HERE.