So many random thoughts...

1. Fall TV is killing me. Now that I'm installed a l'Orange, I'm blessed (cursed?) with satellite and consequently the ability to record any show I might want to watch. Going for a run? We can start House an hour late. Need to grocery shop? No problem... I can record Community and watch it tomorrow. UGH! Now there's, like, 12 hours of recorded TV I have to catch up on before the new week's episodes start. And Obama thought he had problems...

2. Cousin Toque, my personal Ottawa Superstar, has travelled half way across the planet to ride elephants, fill up on tandoori, and cheer on our Canadian athletes as an ambassador to Canada at the Commonwealth Games. His official title is "Media Attaché". I have no idea what that is (I thought an attaché was some form of briefcase...?) but it sounds very impressive. More impressive, however, is how hard CT has worked to get this position--a true example of what perseverance will get you. Conquering Kilimanjaro, the Ottawa Marathon, the Vancouver Olympics, and now Delhi... I mean this in all seriousness: is there anything you can't do?! Totally and completely inspiring.

Follow his footsteps HERE.

3. Thanks to Manrissa for introducing me to THIS LITTLE GEM. For a good laugh, click away... I recommend starting with "The Party".

4. My workplace is really into Book Trailers. Specifically, having staff/me create them. I don't mind, though, because it's a random opportunity to play at something creative in an otherwise left brain environment. This is the latest trailer of my creation for the newest Anne Brashares novel, My Name is Memory. Although a little "history heavy" at times, I'd recommend it for sure!

5. During my last week of holiday's, Orange gave me the best surprise. After five days of totally miserable cottage weather (cold and wet), we woke up on the Friday to sun. Totally amazing! I was just getting ready to head down to the dock, book in hand, primed for some much needed sun time when...

"Damn," says Orange. "I forgot to pay my credit card bill. I'm going to need to go into town to the bank. Will you come with me?"

Say what? Nah uh, I'm not going anywhere. I've been waiting all week for some heat and now that it's here I'm going to stuff my self with it. But of course after several minutes of "Please? Don't make me go alone..." I caved, throwing on my grubbiest clothes worn all week in front of dock fires, and topping my greasy hair with a toque. I hardly needed to dress for a car ride...

Needless to say, our trip to the bank was a beard for the real purpose beyond our drive to Gravenhurst: a birthday trip on the RMS Segwun! There's nothing more fun than the "boop boop booooooop" of the Segwun steamship tooting it's way past the cottage, and here I was getting my very own 2 1/2 hour lunch cruise, complete with turkey dinner! Hands down, the best part of our vacation. It's just too bad I didn't think to slap on deoderant... Thank heaven's I remembered a bra...

*blush*

Here's a video of a drive-by boating and the Segwun's subsequent courtesy toot. I'm losing my mind... Orange is... Well... Losing patience with my camera work:

"Damnit, Library Lady!"

If you have two minutes to waste, do it with this:

Right in the kisser, indeed.

"They don't call it the Amazing Race for nothing..."

This is why I'm not an accountant.

I bought THESE boots on a whim a couple of weekends ago from my new favourite hole-in-the-wall shoe store, feeling the need to treat myself to something lavish. I can be what some might call "cheap," especially when it comes to spending a ridiculous amount of money on something that isn't a necessity.

This trait certainly wasn't inherited from my mother, who replaces her throw pillows faster than I can say "gold tassel". Perhaps it comes from my  grandmother, who reuses everything from old pantyhose to butter wrappers, who was once shamed for driving 20 km to save $0.10 on a head of cabbage? Or perhaps a leftover from  my 'nickel and dime' days of University. I can remember being down to my last $20, taking a road trip to the mall with my girlfriends, wandering around thinking "Hmm... Do I want to spend my $20 on this? Or what about this?" and ultimately choosing to leave empty handed (no doubt later p*ssing the cash away on a pitcher of beer...)

Another example of this is my tendency for cheap sunglasses. I continued to covet a pair of Ray Bans for so long, repeatedly convincing myself I simply couldn't spend $150 on something I would inevitably loose or break, until Free Samples eventually broke down (no doubt disgusted by my contrasting thriftiness to her spendthrift) and got them for me as a 3-0 gift.

I have since lost these sunglasses.

While I don't necessarily worry I'll lose these boots, I still have to justify them to myself. My goal is thus to find someway of wearing these boots with as many outfits as humanely possible. It's not enough that I love them to death, and take any excuse to eek out to the basement to casually stroll by my walk-in to catch a glimpse of them in the moonlight. It's not enough that I love them to death, wearing them today and secretly stroking the buttery leather any chance I get. I couldn't possible afford to pass them up if I wear them 3/5 work days, could I?

Ironically, I think I could actually justify spending the money to redesign my wardrobe around these boots.

And this is why I'm not an accountant.

Well, this and my inability to add, multiple, or do long division...

If you're crazy and you know it stomp your feet!

If you don't watch Dexter, you're crazy. Start.

If you haven't bought the Veggie Patch falafel balls from Costco, you're crazy. Do it.

If you're calling the library to find out where you can go to get your umbrella fixed, you're crazy. Stop calling.

My Dad--the end

Since it happened I've had trouble saying the words. Even now, I don't even like the idea of typing them. When I describe it I say things like:

"Since last September..."
"Since my dad..."
"After last Fall..."

The words get stuck in my mouth. I can seriously feel them on my tongue, filling in my cheeks, itching my teeth.

---

I'm at work, and it's around 2:00. I've just come back from lunch, and I'm sitting at my desk checking emails or some other such nonsense. I glance up from my computer and see my sister standing at the reference desk outside the workroom. She looks at me through the window and I give her a toothy smile thinking she's brought my nephew in for a visit. She shakes her head and frowns. My coworker lets her in.

"What is it? Is it Grandma?"
"No," she says.
"Then what is it? Tell me!"

I can't look out that window now and not picture her standing there; see her face, puffy eyed like she's spent the morning in a barn mucking stables, allergic as sh*t to the horses she loved to ride. I can't drive past the road I know he was found on without thinking "this is where he was." Truthfully, I don't even know exactly where he was, choosing not to remember the specifics so I can go on thinking "I wonder if he was here? I hope so, because it's nicer here than over there..."

---

We still have his voice on our answering machine.

It's unnerving to call and have it go to voicemail. When it hits the 5th ring and I know mom's not going to answer because she's out (or more likely because the TV is so flippin' loud she can't hear it... *wink*) there's always that split second when I think "I should hang up" because I don't want to hear him. But like a junky, I always hang onto the line. And I always listen to the entire thing. And I always end up looking for something in that voice... Something that sounds familiar, or comforting, or funny. It's the same message and the same words, but I keep doing the same thing looking for a different reaction.

Hmm... Isn't that the definition of insanity?

---

A few weeks ago I was at my sister's house for dinner flipping through pictures on her camera when I came to one of him with my nephew on his knee. It was a random visit... I "pop in" so to speak (excuse the pun), as he showed up one afternoon looking for a little baby love.

"That one's a video" she said.

Turns out the camera was on video mode and she hadn't realized it. So when she went to take the picture it took a few seconds of film before she stopped it to snap the photo. That junky in me hit play and for those few fleeting moments he was moving and smiling.

I remember last October desperately asking a family friend if they still had those VHS tapes of him skiing, from way back when we were kids and our families used to spend weekends together in Ellicottville. While they promised to look, turns out they had just finished cleaning out those closets and the tapes had been one of the first things to go.

Rumour has it my sister has a handful of videos of him. And even though that junky nags for me to break in to her house like an addict and rummage through the camera and computer for another hit of PJL home movies, I don't want to see them.

Because I like the idea there are still memories of him I have yet to make.

---

365 days ago today my dad died of a massive aortic aneurysm. And I miss him every day. But his being there now makes me less scared about what's to eventually come. And for that I'm grateful.

My Dad--Part IV

365 days ago I was driving home from a week's vacation at the cottage. I called home to let my parents know I was on my way. "Want to come for dinner?" mom asked.

"Heck yes I would!"

I parked in front of their house and tread my way up the walk. I sat in their warm sun room watching mom cook, sharing stories about my week and the last two days spent with my sister and her family. They talked about their weekend in Southampton, and the day spent at a local street festival. I checked my emails, dad watched golf.

We sat down to a huge roast beef dinner--roast, buttered potatoes, candied carrots, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, and fresh baked pie purchased at the street fair. "We were supposed to have Beef Stroganoff" mom said, "but I know you don't like Beef Stroganoff so *sigh* we're having roast beef instead..." While I know the jab is meant in jest (she loves roast beef as much as the rest of us) when she gets up to refill the gravy dad leans across the table and whispers "I hate Beef Stroganoff..." He winks, and we share a secret laugh with mom sighing from the kitchen, "Are you laughing at me? What are you laughing at?"

After pie, I roll out the door to unpack, settle in, and prepare for the next day at work. Mom and dad sit on the front step, dad with a stack of Ritz crackers (required to fill that last little pocket left empty by pudding and pie). "I'm sorry I can't come to your program on Tuesday" dad says... a library event he was originally scheduled to attend. "I'm working the afternoon shift, but I'll be there in spirit!" I hug, and kiss, and leave them smiling on the front steps, turning back to thank them again for a yummy dinner and to tell them one last time I missed them during my week away.

He was wearing plaid shorts, of that I'm sure. But I can't for the life of me remember what colour his shirt was.

Ugh.

Officially on vacation in seven minutes (not that I'm counting or anything...) I'm taking myself as far away from a computer as humanely possible, and couldn't be happier. So long weirdos! So long customers with bizarre behaviour! So long people who stay here far too many hours in the day!

Apologies to all for not updating more frequently. Now that summer is over and summer school has officially come to an end, perhaps I'll be more diligent.