My Crappy Week: Part Deux

Or: What To Do Now:

So I didn’t get into the Centre. Crap. (which, coupled with my Monday afternoon car accident, made this a crappy week) I was quite upset and disappointed when I heard. Not so completely and wholly because I wanted to go to this school, but because I wanted wholly and completely to change my life. I know I still can ... and I still will ... but right at that moment, I was quite upset and disappointed.

Still, the rejection is not without some positives. I can hang the pictures on the walls of my new apartment that I had been putting off until finding out if I was moving (why mark up a walls that weren’t going to be mine for more than 6 months?). And buy a hot-air popcorn popper (why buy something I was just going to have to pack or sell again?). And since I don’t need the money right away for a move and tuition, I can take a bit of a vacation at that guest house on Lesser Slave Lake that I love so much (you all think that’s the lamest things you’ve heard – but I’ll post pictures from this vacation and you too will fall in love with the area. Just wait). Then, in September, I’ll find another job.

I have decided I am still going to move to Toronto. And I’ll either re-apply to the CFC, or I’ll try to get an agent. Or both. Before or after I move to Toronto, I’ve not yet decided. But first I will finish off my year as President of the WRSE Board. Which means now I’ll have time to plan the move properly, and not stay awake late at night wondering how in the living hell am I going to pull off picking up and taking off within the span of one month.

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A Picture Puzzler

A friend sent me another picture from the wrap party. As I looked at it, and recalled the good times, I was struck by something really unusual. See if you can spot it: I'll give you all some time to guess...

And they called me mad when I bought the bunker in the woods!

I had heard that one way of thwarting telemarketers was to make them think the number they have dialed is in fact a fax machine. I've tried different tones on my cordless phone, all to no avail. Then I had an epiphany: When I turned sixteen, my sister bought me a new-fangled telephone. It had push buttons, but it was still just a rotary phone - when you pressed each button to dial, you still heard the rotary "tat-a-tat-tat-tat" with every number. I had held onto this phone ever since. It's cute. It works. There was no reason to get rid of it. I was willing to bet that, in this day and age of advanced technology rendering yesterday's device obsolete on a daily basis, a telemarketer - who is likely going to be decades younger than my phone - would be unable to even identify a rotary phone by sight much less by sound. And voila! Answering the phone with my rotary phone, and constantly pressing the buttons, the telemarketer kept repeating "Hello?

Batten down the hatches -- we're in it for the long haul!

Given that the weather reports for Edmonton this weekend are grim grim grim (lows of minus 33, highs of minus 25 -- with wind chills of around minus 35 to 40), I woke up early this morning to get all errands for the weekend out of the way in one fell swoop. I barely needed a coat this morning as I headed out to my car to embark on my mission. With each passing hour, the thermometer dipped a degree or twelve. By time I was done driving around (and paused to catch a movie at the neighbourhood googolplex), it was chill-lay outside. I am now snuggly boarded up in my apartment, with no plans to so much as peek my nose out my window until Tuesday (when the temps shall return to a balmy minus 15). Groceries? Check. Toiletries? Check. Magazines to curl up with? Check. Christmas Presents? Check. Lessee, I got my father what he's been asking for since I was old enough for him to give me his Christmas wish list: And I think my mother will enjoy her bungalow by the stream: For my sister and he

A Skewed View

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