Friday, April 30, 2010

ANYONE FOR SECONDS?

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You can make startling progress today, as long as you keep from starting off in a new direction. There is time for that later, and you’ve got your eye on a few upcoming milestones.

Laura’s Log:

OK, I stayed for more than a drink. After two rounds, drinks became dinner. Ken proved to be refreshing. Not an arrogant ass trying to show he’s above me. In fact, he was funny in a self-deprecating way. It made for comfortable conversation. I was able to keep up with the Canuck talk and I was glad to be able to listen as he shared his disappointment in the dissolution of his long-term relationship with Clara. So many guys act like they’ve moved on without even a superficial wound after a breakup. Ken showed his vulnerability.

Do we have chemistry? Never thought I’d say it but…maybe.

I have to focus more on Dad today. This is his last day of work before he’s unceremoniously booted. And, as far as I can tell, he still hasn’t told Mom. I called her at the salon and pointedly asked “What’s new?” and “How’s Dad?”

“What’s with the inquisition?” she shot back. “Why are you checking up on me? Nothing’s new. But I’ve got a manicure to to do, honey, so I can’t chat with you now. If you’re lonely, call Estelle. I think she goes a little stir crazy dealing with Elmo and Barney and stroller mommies all day.”

I’ll swing by after work. Mom will think I’m losing it and renew her push for me to go out with Betty Ng’s son. I’ll risk it. Dad needs some support right now.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
TOTALLY BLEW THE DATE. I MEAN, SHE STUCK AROUND LONGER THAN I’D THOUGHT. A FULL DINNER! I HAD A SHOT. AND THEN I STRAYED FROM MY GAME PLAN. RAN ON AND ON AND ON AND ON…ABOUT THE CANUCKS. IT’S THE PLAYOFFS. SURE I’M OBSESSED. SHE TRIED TO BE POLITE—EVEN MENTIONED HER DISAPPOINTMENT WITH RAYMOND AND BURROWS IN THE FIRST ROUND. WOMEN ALWAYS TALK ABOUT MASON RAYMOND. SARA SAYS IT’S HIS EYES. WTF?! IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT GOAL PRODUCTION!

AFTER I MANAGED TO GET MYSELF OFF THE CANUCKS CONVERSATION, IT ONLY TOOK 10 MIN B/F I WAS GOING ON ABOUT CLARA. NO! DON’T GO THERE! BACK OUT QUICKLY! LAURA KEPT ASKING QUESTIONS AND I KEPT ANSWERING. EVEN I KNOW YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT YOUR EX ON A 1ST DATE. SADLY, BRAIN HAD NO CONTROL OVER MOUTH.

AT LEAST I DIDN’T DRINK TOO MUCH.

IS A 2ND DATE IN THE WORKS? DOUBTFUL. DO I CALL HER & HUMILIATE MYSELF? THINKING ABOUT IT…

THANK GOD THERE’S THE NEW BIZ TO WORRY ABOUT. CHECKED ON THE RENOS TODAY & THINGS ARE LOOKING AWESOME. I CAN SEE IT NOW! SHOULD BE DONE IN 4-5 DAYS ACCORDING TO CARL(A). SIGN WENT UP THIS AFTERNOON. MARTY CAME BY FOR THE OCCASION AND CARL(A) SNAPPED SOME PICS OF US. I ADDED THEM TO THE WEBSITE. STILL NO FOLLOWERS (EXCEPT SARA AND MARTY’S MOM) BUT I BLOGGED THE PROGRESS W/THE BIZ. SOUNDED SO ROSY I HAD TO GO BACK & TONE IT DOWN A TAD. DON’T WANT TO COME OFF AS AN OSMOND. LA LA LA LA LA, HAPPY, HAPPY.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

A NEW LOOK

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Shopping may consume your mind today, even if you don’t ordinarily lose it over the bargain bins. It’s a good time for you to get good deals and take home anything you really need.

Laura’s Log:

I always make it a point to follow my horoscope when it tells me it’s a day for shopping. I hit South Granville right after work and felt compelled to wander into Misch. No bargain bins there! Stores like Misch calm me. The lighting, the clean way clothes are displayed,…Sure beats the chaos and neglect of The Bay. Walked out with the cutest top and pants from Forte Forte. I’ll wear them for drinks tonight with Ken. No, not because I’m trying to look good for him. I need to feel calm and confident as I play it cool. Just a drink and then goodnight.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
NERVOUS ABOUT TONITE. AFTER SEVERAL CHANCE MTGS W/LAURA, I THINK THIS IS MY FINAL SHOT @ GETTING HER TO SEE ME AS MORE INTERESTING THAN A POST. I STARTED GOING THRU MY CLOSET @ NOON AND, AFTER 30 MIN OF DUMPING EVERYTHING ONTO THE BED, I DECIDED TO BUY SOMETHING NEW. HEADED TO HARRY ROSEN AND PSYCHED MYSELF UP. I REALLY HATE SHOPPING AND THE ROSEN STAFF MAKES A POINT OF OVERLOOKING ME. ONE LOOK AND THEY DECIDE I’M BAD FOR BIZ. SOMEONE SHOO HIM OUT ASAP!

FUCK THAT! I IMMEDIATELY WENT TO—ACCOSTED?—A FIFTY-YEAR-OLD WOMAN ON STAFF AND TOLD HER ABOUT MY DATE. DID HER SURPRISE STEM FROM MY STORMING INTO THE STORE, APPROACHING HER OR HAVING A DATE? (HERE’S WHERE THAT ALL OF THE ABOVE OPTION COMES IN.) AFTER AN HOUR OF TRYING THINGS ON, I DECIDED ON A CASUAL LOOK. WE WERE MEETING AT BIN 942 SO I DIDN’T WANT TO LOOK TOO CORPORATE. ENDED UP SHELLING OUT $400 ON A RED J LINDEBERG HOODY AND A PAIR OF BLACK JEANS BY BOSS BLACK. CONSIDERING I COULD’VE SPENT THAT MUCH ON JUST JEANS, I WAS WALKING OUT W/A BARGAIN. SO WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE I SHOULD UP MY LINE OF CREDIT?

CAN’T SAY I DIDN’T TRY. HOPE THE CLOTHES HELP. NOTES TO SELF: DON’T DRINK TOO MUCH, DON’T TALK TOO MUCH ABOUT THE CANUCKS, DON’T TALK ABOUT CLARA…BASICALLY, BE SOMEONE OTHER THAN SELF.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

PHONING IT IN

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): It’s perfectly okay for you to deal with your own emotions and needs first today — everyone else is! If you feel selfish, remember that you have to take care of yourself if you want to help others.

Laura’s Log:
I woke up in a funk. I’d gone to bed feeling worried about Dad losing his job at the end of the week, wondering what it would take to get Lucy and Estelle to talk again and thinking that sex-crazed and single Millie might be me in another forty years. Have to admit the last thought bothered me the most. Does that mean I’m self-absorbed?

When I walked Tupper, I stopped in at a Starbucks, figuring I needed my latté fix earlier than usual. Unfortunately, there was a twentysomething couple in front of me and they couldn’t stop fondling and kissing. I tried to dismiss it as a one night stand that would flicker out once they managed to separate themselves. The negative thought wasn’t much comfort.

At lunch, I was on my own and, walking through downtown, I seemed to keep getting behind hand-holding couples. Unfair! This is the corporate world! Everyone’s supposed to be power walking and power talking. No warmth allowed!

And then as I walked home, a woman thrust a flyer in my hand as I started across the Granville Street Bridge. I’d said, “No thank you”, but her arm was extended like a security gate, forcing me to take the unwanted piece of paper before gaining passage. Vancouver Executive Dating Service. Was she being that forceful with every pedestrian or did she just know that I was in dire need?

Back in my apartment, I was in more depressed than when the day began. I told myself I didn’t need anyone. I had Tupper. I had my dysfunctional family. I had my friends (when they weren’t dated obnoxious men). Dammit, my booster talk wasn’t working. In my vulnerable state, I took out the napkin from the drawer with all the plastic bags and I called him.

KEN’S JOURNAL:

SHE CALLED! DON’T KNOW HOW IT HAPPENED. MAYBE HORNY OLD MILLIE THREATENED TO TAKE HER ALONG TO SINGLES NIGHT AT THE SENIORS CENTER. MAYBE HER LAST BOYFRIEND HAD CONVINCED HER THAT SHE COULD ONLY BE WITH DWEEBS LIKE ME. MAYBE PIGS HAD FINALLY TAKEN FLIGHT ON A FARM IN ABBOTSFORD.

“HI. IT’S LAURA.” IT’S A GOOD THING THEY BANNED USING CELL PHONES WHEN DRIVING BECAUSE I THINK I WOULD’VE CRASHED MY VEHICLE HAD I NOT PULLED OVER. WE CHATTED BRIEFLY, COMPARING NOTES ABOUT OUR STRANGE VISITS WITH MILLIE IN THE HOSPITAL. AND THEN SHE SAID, “WELL, I OWE YOU A DRINK. HOW ABOUT TOMORROW?”

OK, SHE WAS REALLY PLAYING DOWN THE ATTRACTION TO ME. A DEBT TO REPAY. A TWO-TON OBLIGATION THAT SHE NEEDED TO GET OFF HER BACK. I’VE LEARNED TO TAKE THINGS HOWEVER THEY COME. A DRINK WITH A PRETTY LADY? ABSOLUTELY!

TOMORROW NIGHT. 7 P.M. CAN’T COME SOON ENUF.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

SEXED UP GRANNY

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): All that energy has to be good for something — and you should think of exactly the right project! You may want to track down an ex, redecorate your home or convince your boss to give you a raise. Anything is possible!

Laura’s Log:

Turned out Millie broke her hip. I stopped by last night, but she was asleep and I didn’t want to wake her. I doubt one sleeps well with massive hip pain. Take the sleep when you can get it. I left my small bouquet with a note. Sadly, there was no other sign of visitors.

I returned after work today with more flowers, a crossword puzzle book and the latest issue of “Hello!” magazine. Figured she might be a Prince William follower. Millie was awake and alert when I arrived. Yesterday’s flowers were joined by an orchid plant. Glad to know she’d had other company.

“Hi, dear,” she said. She flashed her set of tiny, crooked teeth, showing she wasn’t in undue pain. A relief. (Hospitals make me squeamish. I was thrilled she had a private room. Last thing I wanted to fixate on was someone’s IV bag.)

“How are you?” I asked as I made room for the latest gifts on her bedside table.

“Well, I’m afraid they’re going to have to call someone up to take my place for the rest of the playoffs. Between you and me, I think the Sedins will do just fine without me.” A sense of humor is always a good sign. “By the way,” she added, “you just missed your friend.”

“My friend?”

“Why, Ken! The nice gentleman with the cocoa.”

“Oh, we’re not really friends. We barely—”

“Now just because I’m an old lady doesn’t mean I’m a prude. You can talk about sex with me, honey.” More humor, I hoped.

“Really, Millie, we don’t—”

“He’s smitten with you. He didn’t come right out and say it, but I know these things. I set my best friend up Gladys with her future husband. He turned out to be a schmuck, but it was love for awhile. That’s something.”

“Nice.”

“He says he doesn’t think you’re going to call him. Now why in heavens not, honey? Are you in a relationship?”

I couldn’t lie to an old lady. I shook my head.

“Then, for heaven’s sake, call the man. He’s got a little extra padding, but honey they all do eventually. I always say it’s just more to love. And he’s such a sweet man. Now I don’t want you making visits to see me if it means you’re neglecting your sex life. If you come see me again—and I really hope you do, dear—you’d better have good news on the sex front.”

Gramma Millie had an inclination for saying sex a lot. Perhaps she could find a horny older gentleman in the wing and talk the doc into a Viagra prescription. Anything to shift the attention away from me.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
NO CALL FROM LAURA. JUST AS I EXPECTED. (SO WHY DOES IT STING?) I STOPPED BY VGH WITH A PLANT FOR MILLIE, THE LADY WHO TOOK A FALL YESTERDAY. I WANTED TO SEE SHE WAS OKAY, BUT—HERE’S WHERE I SHOW HOW PATHETIC I AM—I WAS ALSO HOPING I’D RUN INTO LAURA AGAIN. SEEMS WE DO THAT A LOT.

NOT THIS TIME. I LINGERED AS MILLIE WENT ON AND ON ABOUT A NEIGHBOR ABOVE HER (AT HOME, NOT THE HOSPITAL) WHO ALWAYS HAD LOUD SEX. MILLIE DIDN’T RAISE IT AS A COMPLAINT. I GOT THE SENSE SHE LIKED TO TALK A LITTLE SMUT. JUST WISH IT WASN’T IN MY COMPANY. I LIKE TO THINK OF LITTLE OLD LADIES MAKING TEA AND KNITTING BOOTIES FOR FREEZING ORPHANS IN THE ARCTIC.

I SHOULD’VE BEEN CONTENT TO HEAR ABOUT THE NEIGHBOR BECAUSE, AFTER THAT STORY RAN ITS COURSE, SHE GRILLED ME. “SO, KEN, ARE YOU A LOUD ONE?”

“HUH?” SHE WASN’T ASKING WHAT I THOUGHT SHE WAS ASKING. WAS SHE?

“DO YOU SCREAM AND YELL DIRTY THINGS WHEN YOU’RE GOING AT IT IN BED?” SHE WAS.

“UH, WELL,…I GENERALLY SLEEP ALONE.”

SEEMS I DISAPPOINTED HER. I WONDERED IF SHE COULD PAY TO WATCH PORN AT THE HOSPITAL. (BUT THEN SHE MIGHT GET ANOTHER INJURY.) SHE STARED AT ME, MAKING ME UNCOMFORTABLE. “I THINK YOU SHOULD HAVE SEX WITH LAURA. SHE LEFT ME THE LOVELIEST NOTE, YOU KNOW.”

“UH, MILLIE, THAT DOESN’T EXACTLY LAY THE GROUNDWORK FOR LAURA AND ME GETTING INVOLVED.”

ANOTHER LONG STARE. THEN A SMILE. “YOU’VE TAKEN A SHINE TO HER, HAVEN’T YOU? NOW LET ME GIVE YOU SOME ADVICE…”

ON AND ON SHE RAMBLED. THIS TIME, I LISTENED. HEY, YOU NEVER KNOW.

Monday, April 26, 2010

RUNNING FOR COCOA

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’re more concerned with beauty than with so-called ‘real life’ today — and that should work out quite well for you! Your amazing energy helps you hit the sweet spot and reel in some new friends too.

Laura’s Log:
For some reason, a morning jog in April feels colder than one in February. I think it’s because this is the time of year when Mother Nature likes to tease us. Little pockets of warmth given, then taken away. In truth, I’ve felt cold all day. Seems I never recovered from the start of the day.

Still, I’m glad I ran. Felt like I’d gained five pounds yesterday. I needed comfort after seeing Derrick at the beach. And, while I know it’s the wrong option, there is no comfort like that which comes in high (sugary) calories. I scarfed down a brownie, a lemon bar and a crème brulée. Damn you, Meinhardt! Having overloaded my sweet tooth, I balanced things by caving to my salty and spicy urges as I emptied a bag of Miss Vickie’s Jalapeño Potato Chips while watching the Canucks leave most of the work to Luongo for the first half of the Canucks game.

As I jogged past the Kits Pool, I noticed an elderly woman lying on the grass. Not the time of day for tanning. I stopped to see if she was all right. Turns out she wasn’t. She’d taken the grass instead of the paved walk as a shortcut down to the seawall and lost her balance on an uneven patch. She couldn’t get up and winced in pain when I tried to assist. I called 911 on my cell and sat on the ground trying to warm Millie who was shaking from cold and perhaps a bit of shock. Another runner stopped and I asked if he could grab Millie a coffee from the Starbucks across the street. “Cocoa,” Millie said. “It’s a cocoa kind of morn.”

“Yes, Millie. Cocoa sounds lovely.” (Obviously my sweet tooth was on the rebound.) The fellow with the drink order was back and stayed with us. He mentioned the Canucks game and Millie perked up. The shivers dissipated. Paramedics were on the scene within ten minutes. I backed away to let them do their thing.

“You really don’t recognize me, do you?” I looked at the Cocoa Canuck and was startled. What was his name? The guy I’d met with Lucy and Carl(a). The guy I spilled beer on last week.

“Of course I do. I’m sorry. I was so concerned about Millie I didn’t notice.”

“How are you, Laura?”

“Good. Well, a bit cold, but good. Yeah. Good.” I was stumbling because I hoped he wouldn’t ask…

“Do you remember my name?”

He asked. Damn. No idea. Frank? Fred? Started with F, didn’t it?

“It’s Ken.” Okay, so K isn’t that far down the alphabet from F. They’re practically neighbors.

As they wheeled Millie off, Ken and I ran alongside her. “You’re going to be fine, Millie,” I said, knowing nothing of the sort. “They’re taking you to VGH. I’ll come visit if they admit you. What’s your last name?”

“Morgan,” she replied, raising her hand in a slight wave as they loaded her in the ambulance. “Thanks, dears.”

“I’m betting you’re not going to remember that,” Ken said. “Just judging from experience.”

Ouch. It wouldn’t be prudent to argue the point. I remembered everyone’s name. Except his.

“How about we call it a day for jogging? Get you a pen so you can write down her name and I’d say we both deserve a hot chocolate.” My entire being said no. Just keep jogging. And then that damned sweet tooth caved. Which tooth was it anyway? Might be worth an extraction.

KEN’S JOURNAL:

I’D WATCHED THE ENTIRE CANUCKS GAME LAST NIGHT GNAWING ON CARROT STICKS. THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ENOUGH. BUT I SET THE ALARM FOR AN EARLY JOG ANYWAY. 13 LBS LOST. PEOPLE WERE STARTING TO NOTICE. NO TIME TO LET UP. DON’T PUT IT OFF. BE A CANUCK. DO IT NOW INSTEAD OF IN A GAME 7.

I’VE GOTTEN A BIT BORED WITH THE TREK ALONG DAVID LAM AND OVER TO SCIENCE WORLD SO I OPTED FOR THE BURRARD STREET BRIDGE AND KITSILANO. AND THEN AN ODD SIGHT. A FEMALE JOGGER GROPING AN OLD LADY IN THE GRASS. IT WAS LAURA—AGAIN. TURNED OUT THE OLDER WOMAN HAD FALLEN. I WAS SENT ON A COCOA MISSION. B/C EVERYONE KNOWS THAT’S THE BEST MEDICINE FOR A BROKEN HIP.

OF COURSE, LAURA DIDN’T RECOGNIZE ME YET AGAIN. I SHOULD JUST TELL HER MY NAME IS JOE. JOE AVERAGE.

AFTER THE LADY WENT OFF IN THE AMBULANCE, I INVITED LAURA TO JOIN ME FOR A DRINK AT STARBUCKS AND SHE ACCEPTED. GUESS EXCUSES DON’T COME THAT QUICKLY THAT EARLY. IN LINE, I JOKED, “YOU SHOULD BE PAYING FOR THIS, YOU KNOW. AFTER WASTING MY BEER.”

“YOU’RE RIGHT. BUT I DIDN’T BRING ANY MONEY. IT WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A RUN.”

WE TALKED FOR ABOUT TEN MINUTES. I WROTE DOWN THE OLD LADY’S NAME ON A NAPKIN SINCE I’D JOKED THAT LAURA HAD A TERRIBLE MEMORY FOR NAMES. JOTTED DOWN MINE TOO, ALONG W/MY NUMBER. “THE WAY I SEE IT, YOU NOW OWE ME TWO DRINKS. BUT I’LL SETTLE FOR ONE.”

SHE SMILED POLITELY. SHE’D NEVER CALL. FOR SOME REASON, I’D JUST NEEDED ONE MORE OPPORTUNITY TO PUT MYSELF OUT THERE AS A LOSER.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

A WARMING TREND

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your sweet nature shows up in a big way today and helps you forgive someone who does feel some measure of contrition. In fact, the two of you may move quickly from enemies to close allies.

Laura’s Log:
After a family brunch in which I was the only daughter to show (Lucy and Estelle still not talking, Marella had some sort of work deadline), I took Tupper for a long walk down to Kitsilano. I grabbed a latté at Starbucks and picked out a log to sit against on Kits Beach. Although I let Tupper off his leash, he was too pooped to wander—just laid beside me and soon nodded off.

The logs plopped down on the beach are pretty massive, providing a windbreaker and a bit of privacy. Unfortunately, they don’t completely block out all things unwanted. “Uh, hi Laura.” I looked up, squinted as the sun beamed down and standing only inches away was Derrick. What would he do? Berate me in front of all the logs? Blame me for his involuntary leave of absence? Kick sand in my face?

I wasn’t in the mood to have any sort of conversation with him so I said, “Isn’t there an injunction or something to forbid you from communicating with me?”

He didn’t become enraged, didn’t crack a smile…just kept a blank look on his face and said, “I am sorry for what I put you through at work. I crossed a line.” So monotone. What kind of meds was he on? Based on the apparently heavy dosage, I hoped he was forbidden from driving.

Still, I wasn’t feeling conciliatory. “Crossed a line? You THINK?!” I put Tupper’s leash back on and rose to leave.

“No, stay. Enjoy your day. I don’t mean to interrupt—or ruin—it. Just know that I’m sorry. Really.” And he walked off.

Not the Derrick I knew. Not really any sort of person. Meds? Maybe they’d brought back the lobotomy just for extreme cases like him. Would have been nice to settle back down and enjoy the sunshine, but Tupper was ready to renew his sniffing expedition and I was feeling completely unsettled.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
DROPPED OFF NEW LIGHT FIXTURES AT THE OFFICE THIS MORNING. I FIGURED SUNDAY MORNING WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO GET IN AND GET OUT WITHOUT DEALING WITH CARL(A) AND HER ACCUSATIONS ABOUT ME HATING WOMEN AND BUTCH WOMEN IN PARTICULAR. UNFORTUNATELY, CARL(A) WAS THERE, PUTTING IN SOME CROWN MOLDINGS. AND I KNEW THINGS WEREN’T GOING TO GO WELL BECAUSE SHE HAD ON AN IGINLA JERSEY.

I SHOULD’VE KEPT MY MOUTH SHUT, BUT WEARING A FLAMES SHIRT IN VANCOUVER WHEN IGINLA ET AL. WERE HONING THEIR GOLF GAME WAS ASKING FOR IT. “NICE SHIRT,” I SAID. “JUST SO YOU KNOW, THE FLAMES DIDN’T MAKE THE PLAYOFFS.”

“AND I COULDN’T BE HAPPIER ABOUT THAT,” CARL(A) SAID. “MY BROTHER LIVES IN CALGARY. THIS WAS MY FRIGGIN’ CHRISTMAS PRESENT. I LIKE TO WEAR IT WHEN I’M DOING MESSIER WORK. I’M PAINTING THE BATHROOM RIGHT AFTER THIS. YOU NEED A TIRE CHANGED OR AN OIL CHANGE TODAY?”

I LAUGHED, SHE LAUGHED. HELL HAD FROZEN. FOR THE NEXT TEN MINUTES, WE WENT HEAD TO HEAD WITH OUR TAKES ON WHAT IT WOULD TAKE FOR THE CANUCKS TO FINISH THE SERIES TONITE. SHE WAS PUTTING MORE FAITH IN BURROWS THAN I FELT WAS REASONABLE AND SHE HOWLED WHEN I SUGGESTED GRABNER MIGHT HAVE ANOTHER BREAKOUT NITE, BUT THINGS NEVER GOT INTENSE. AFTER ALL, WE WERE ON THE SAME TEAM.

YEP, SPORTS COULD BRING PEOPLE TOGETHER. IT COULD HELP TWO STUBBORN ASSES BURY THE HATCHET. JUST ANOTHER REASON THE CANUCKS HAD TO GO FAR IN THE PLAYOFFS. GET US THROUGH THESE RENOS!

“HOW ’BOUT A STARBUCKS?” I ASKED. SHE NODDED. “I’LL PICK IT UP AND BRING IT BACK. NO WAY I’M GONNA BE SEEN WALKING DOWN THE STREET WITH IGINLA.”

Saturday, April 24, 2010

A LITTLE LESS CONVERSATION

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’re seeing details everyone else is missing. That could mean that you’re able to take initiative and move ahead, or it could mean that you’re starting to crack! The odds are on the former, though.

Laura’s Log:
I hate having a family secret. Somehow I’d managed to talk Mom down from the insane idea that Dad was having an affair, but she’d soon have a new theory on why Dad’s being particularly distant of late. Dad and I hadn’t gone for Saturday coffee at Café Calabria in awhile, but I made sure to stop by today. He greeted me with an ultimatum: “No talking about your mother, my job or life after my job.” Seemed like our coffee talk would be all about the Canucks.

And, really, it was—Samuelsson finding himself, Demitra reliving the Olympics, O’Brien being an idiot. My mission failed. I’d wanted to better gauge how Dad was coping with forced retirement and perhaps even coax him into making some plans for Life after Work. I suppose his ultimatum proved he wasn’t coping at all. Was he in the denial stage? Or maybe he was too angry to even broach the subject? What if he was planning to go postal on his boss? Did he have a machine gun somewhere in the garage?

See, that’s the thing about my father. He FORCES us to make wild guesses about his thoughts and feelings. The personal revelations come so rarely.

KEN’S JOURNAL:

MARTY’S LITTLE CONFESSION THAT HE WAS CONSIDERING A DEEPER RELATIONSHIP W/A WOMAN MAY HAVE BEEN A MOMENTARY MUSING. HAD HE PASSED BY THE NEW BIOGRAPHY OF OPRAH IN A STORE WINDOW AND FELT HER STARING HIM DOWN? “CAD! HEEL! BASTARD!”

WHEN HE SHOWED UP THIRTY MINUTES LATE AT OUR NEW OFFICE, HE EXPLAINED HIS TARDINESS WITH “COULDN’T GET MARY—OR WAS IT MARIE?—TO GET OUT OF MY PLACE FAST ENOUGH. SHE STARTED CLEANING MY COUNTERS AND THEN ASKED FOR A MOP. FIGURED I MIGHT AS WELL LET HER DO WHAT MAKES HER HAPPY BEFORE BLOCKING HER NUMBER.”

THIS TIME I WAS WITH OPRAH.

CARL(A)’S WORK WAS LOOKING GOOD. THE SPACE WAS STARTING TO TAKE SHAPE. BUT THE LIGHTING WAS TOO BRIGHT. MADE PEOPLE LOOK TOO PALE. MARTY CONSIDERED MY STATEMENT AND RESPONDED, “WHAT ARE YOU, A GIRL?” I HELD MY GROUND AND HE SHRUGGED AN ASSENT TO CHANGE. HE’D TELL CARL(A) (SINCE SHE STILL THOUGHT I WAS A LESBIAN HATER) AND I’D SCOPE OUT SOME ALTERNATIVES.

WE HEADED TO NEW WESTMINSTER TO CHECK OUT A HALF DOZEN CONDOS. I SHOT EACH ONE DOWN.

TOO MUSTY.

TOO KITSCHY.

TOO RETRO.

TOO MODERN.

TOO SMALL.

TOO NOISY.

BY THE TIME WE WERE DONE, MARTY WAS DISGUSTED. “TOO MUCH, MAN. YOU’RE TOO MUCH.” HE CANCELED OUR GAME OF SQUASH, SAYING MARY (MARIE?) HAD SHORTCHANGED HIM ON SLEEP.

NEEDN’T OVERANALYZE THINGS. I’LL GO WITH THAT.

Friday, April 23, 2010

EMOTIONAL RESCUE

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Expect more than a few questions throughout the day from colleagues, customers and friends. Your social energy is on point, and you’re almost certainly seen as the right person to ask.

Laura’s Log:
I hate drama. Even in movies. Give me “Devil Wears Prada” Meryl over “Sophie’s Choice” Meryl every time. The problem is women can be overly dramatic. Something happens when we hit fifth or sixth grade. Random comments become fodder for killing a friendship. And we never grow beyond that. Why can’t we be (a little) more like men, sit down, watch a hockey game and forget whatever the heck it was that pissed us off? Sure, I’d go crazy if my life revolved on memorizing players’ scoring stats but a dispute about Henrik versus Ovechkin, while intense, isn’t going to doom a relationship. (Talking favorably about the Toronto Maple Leafs is an entirely different matter when you live on the West Coast.)

Nadia and I hadn’t spoken since Sunday night when I mentioned that seeing her boyfriend Bradley once in a weekend was plenty, thank you very much. Best to take dumbasses in small doses. So when Nadia called during her lunch break today to INSIST we go for drinks—just me and her—I braced for an ugly showdown. Hard to focus on work the rest of the afternoon. (Thankfully, the office pace would have made a sloth on antsy as Carmen’s quadruple chocolate cake put everyone in a sugar coma.) While they crashed, I shook.

Women’s intuition is overrated. Or, at least, mine is. Might as well return the damn thing and redeem it for a complimentary packet of Starbucks instant coffee. I’d expected Nadia to attack me as soon as I saw her perched on a stool at the bar at Cactus Club. She’d already ordered my standard lime margarita, no salt, a kind gesture that set me off my defensive game plan. And then she startled me more with the first words out of her mouth: “Bradley’s an ass, isn’t he?”

Dem’s choppy waters we’re headin’ into! What do you say when a friend is down on her boyfriend? It’s always such a risk. I lost Gloria by agreeing with her when she started ragging Milo, her loser of a husband. In the moment, she was grateful for my honesty and support. For two weeks, we were best buds. Then they reconciled and I was unceremoniously shredded along with the divorce papers.

I played therapist, responding with “Why do you say that?” Thankfully, Nadia had plenty of her own evidence. So much so that it was pointless for me to jump in. Her examples were much more offensive. Bradley calls her into the bathroom when he’s taking a shit just to freak her out. (The fact he never flushes after either number was disgusting enough.) Bradley yells in her ear when she’s on the phone too long (in his opinion) with her mother. (The fact Nadia’s mom is going through chemo only makes his infantile Notice Me behavior all the more egregious.) Bradley is relentless about the five pounds Nadia’s put on since Christmas.

I wanted desperately to say, “So why are you still with him?” Instead, I asked, “What are you going to do?”

To my astonishment, Nadia said, “I don’t know.”

As we left, she hugged me and thanked me. And I felt like the worst friend ever.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
MARTY WAS HAVING A SLOW DAY SO HE CALLED ME FOR DRINKS AT 2. WE WOUND UP HITTING MALONE’S DOWNTOWN. SURPRISINGLY CORPORATE CROWD FOR MID-AFTERNOON. VANCOUVER IS NO TORONTO WHEN IT COMES TO WORK ETHIC. MARTY SEEMED DOWN, WHICH IS RARE FOR HIM. HE’S USUALLY THE ONE TRYING TO SNAP ME OUT OF A FUNK. STILL, IT WAS LIKE A GAME OF 21 QUESTIONS TRYING TO GET HIM TALK. MARTY’S ALL ABOUT SPORTS STATS, STOCKS, REAL ESTATE PRICES, WOMEN’S MEASUREMENTS. HE’S AN OPEN BOOK WHEN IT COMES TO NUMBERS. FEELINGS? NOT SO MUCH.

AFTER THIRTY MINUTES OF FISHING AND REELING IN NOTHING, IT CAME DOWN TO WOMEN. MARTY, THE GUY WHO STILL SCORES A COUPLE TIMES A WEEK, WAS TIRED OF ONE-NIGHTERS. “LAST TIME I DATED A GIRL MORE THAN A WEEK? COULDN’T TELL YA. I HAVE ONCE OR TWICE, HAVEN’T I? I WENT OUT WITH CONNIE FOR A WEEK AND A HALF OR TWO, DIDN’T I?”

“WHO?” WRONG RESPONSE. MARTY PUT HIS HEAD ON THE TABLE. I’D ONLY UNDERSCORED THE PROBLEM.

“I THINK I MIGHT PERHAPS POSSIBLY BE SORTA READY TO MAYBE START SOMETHING LIKE A RELATIONSHIP.” WELL, THAT WAS PUTTING IT ALL OUT THERE. HOW BOLD!

OK, BABY STEPS. HE’D ALWAYS SAID RELATIONSHIPS WERE FOR WIMPY-ASSED GUYS WHO MISSED THEIR MOMMIES. HE COULDN’T EXACTLY COME RIGHT OUT AND SAY HE ENVIED THE WIMPY ASSES NOW, COULD HE? THERE WAS NO CHANCE TO ASK ANY KIND OF FOLLOW-UP. MARTY SWITCHED IMMEDIATELY TO LAYING INTO ME ABOUT BEING “THE PICKIEST HEMORRHOID OF A CONDO CLIENT” HE’D EVER HAD. FROM THAT, WE WENT ON TO GIVING OUR SCOUTING REPORTS FOR THE CANUCKS GAME. STILL, BY MARTY OPENING HIS RELATIONSHIP WINDOW JUST A CRACK, I SENSED THAT MY FUCK ’EM & LEAVE ’EM PAL WAS LOOKING TO GROW UP, EVEN SEE WOMEN AS MORE THAN THEIR MEASUREMENTS.

IT JUST GOES TO SHOW, CHANGE IS ALWAYS POSSIBLE…EVENTUALLY.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

COMMUNICATING IN SILENCE

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your leadership skills are vital — and potent — today, so make the most of them! Your coworkers or family members need guidance or direction, and you can give it to them without getting bossy.

Laura’s Log:
Mom called shortly after two in the afternoon. I was in another friggin’ toilet paper meeting so naturally I took the call, for once happy to let Mom ramble on as much as pleased.

“I need you to come over.”

“What is it, Mom? I’m working. I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“Then come after work. It’s your father. You’re the one who understands him the most. He’s having an affair, I just know it. I confronted him at breakfast. Hid his Grape Nuts and refused to give them to him until he confessed. He just took a banana from the counter and stormed out. I think he’s fooling around with Betsy Ng. She once dropped off some homemade chow mein and your father loved it. You know how he doesn’t like any fancy food. But he loved it! I’ve always thought he had a thing for Betsy Ng. And ever since Ben Ng had a stroke, that woman’s been trying to take some other woman’s man. The way she laughed at Syd Zucker’s jokes, I tell you it was disgusting. And then she went—”

“After work. OK. I’ll stop by.”

“Thank you, dear. Did I tell you what your father did two nights ago? He got up at 11:30 and turned on Letterman. He doesn’t watch Letterman. Never! Now that he’s having an affair, he’s connecting to Letterman who’s a real sleazeball. And your father watched that golf tournament when Tiger came back! And I think he’d—”

Just once I’d like a conversation with my mother to end naturally. She gives me no choice; I always have to cut her off.

Dad having an affair. Ha! Absolutely implausible. Improbable. Impossible!

When I got to the house, I snuck into the garage first. Dad was sitting there, reading the morning paper. He was even less talkative than usual. I had to be blunt. “Why does Mom think you’re having an affair?”

“She needs excitement. She’s bored so she creates a little chaos. Been doing it the entire thirty-eight years I’ve known her.”

“But, Dad, an affair? She never goes that far. It’s always, ‘Your father likes the Starbucks scones better than mine!’ or ‘Your father’s getting the cheap gas again.’”

He looked down at the floor. Oh, god…was the affair real?! “They’re letting me go at the end of the month.” He said it in barely a whisper, but every word was clear. Thank goodness. It would have killed him if he’d had to repeat it.

“Does Mom know?”

He shook his head and then went back to looking at concrete. He sniffed and I hugged him. As I did, I felt his entire body quiver. It broke my heart.

I’d stopped by to console Mom and talk some sense into her, yet it was Dad who really needed me. I pulled up a lawn chair and just sat with him. Thirty seconds in, he leaned into me and bawled. No attempt to hide it. It was the first time in my life I’d ever seen him completely break. Within five minutes, he was on his feet, polishing a rake—because rakes really need to shine. “Those Sedins were really something last night, weren’t they?”

“Yeah. They were great, Dad.”

And as I made my exit, he tried his best to smile and said, “Thanks for stopping by.” And just like that, he went back into his shell.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
MY ROWING CLUB LESSONS W/TRAVIS ARE STILL A WAYS OFF &, W/ANOTHER POTENTIAL WEEKEND OF A JERRY-TRAVIS BLOWOUT PENDING, I DECIDED TO TAKE TRAV OUT ON THE WATER AFTER SCHOOL TODAY. KAYAKING, THIS TIME IN DEEP COVE. I DIDN’T GET FAR IN ASKING ABOUT SCHOOL. JUST A SERIES OF INTERCHANGEABLE RESPONSES: “NOTHING”, “IT’S ALL RIGHT, I GUESS”, “I DUNNO”. ASKING ABOUT FRIENDS AND SARA GOT SIMILARLY EVASIVE ANSWERS.

ONLY WHEN I ASKED, “HOW ARE ETHAN, BELLA & RUDY?” DID HE OPEN UP. “BELLA’S AFRAID OF ME,” HE SAID SOMBERLY.

“WHY WOULD SHE FEEL THAT WAY?” I HOPED HE’D BE REFLECTIVE…AND OPEN.

“I DUNNO. BUT IT SUCKS. ETHAN’S THE SAME.”

WAS HE REALLY THAT CLUELESS OR JUST NOT WANTING TO ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY FOR OPENLY ENGAGING IN WWIII W/HIS PARENTS? POOR BELLA AND ETHAN WERE CIVILIANS CAUGHT IN THE LINE OF FIRE.

“SO WHAT’S UP WITH RUDY?”

“NOTHING. ’CEPT HIS FRIENDS ARE TELLING HIM I’M A DRUG DEALER OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.”

“AND HOW’S THAT FEEL?”

“I DUNNO.” BETTER THAN HIM SAYING, “IT’S ALL RIGHT, I GUESS.” BUT NOT MUCH.

ON THE WATER, WE COASTED BY A ROCKY LEDGE AS THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN HIT OUR AREA. WATCHING THE HUNDREDS OF JELLYFISH FLOATING AROUND US WAS MAGICAL. OR, AS TRAV SAID, “COOL.”

HOW IS IT THAT COOL HAS ENDURED? NOTHING UNCOOL ABOUT COOL. WE PADDLED ON AND, FOR FIFTEEN SOLID MINUTES ON THE WATER, DIDN’T EXCHANGE A SINGLE WORD. THAT WAS THE TIME WHEN THE BOND SEEMED THE BEST.

SOMETIMES YOU JUST CAN’T FORCE THINGS.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

YEA, TEAM!

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your head is full of conflicting ideas and opinions early today, which isn’t much fun — but the afternoon brings a new clarity. You may want to get your people to try for consensus one last time.

Laura’s Log:

I was invited into a team meeting on a new campaign this morning. An honor, according to Tamara (who, by the way, is talking to me again, having gotten over my weekend escapade with Katherine—things still unresolved with Nadia). I get it. I’m the lowly new assistant. I should be grateful to be included even if my role was simply to record every brainstormed idea, good, bad or completely off topic.

I just wish my first team meeting involved something more exciting than toilet paper. Things began with an attack on the animated commercials with the bear and quickly went down Memory Lane with Mr. Whipple. YouTube has its purpose in advertising, but it can be just as much of a distracter as Facebook. Under the “off topic” column, I had to note the group’s viewing of Crystal Bowersox’s “People Get Ready” performance on Idol last night. Sure, she’s good, but I had things to take care of at my desk—paper clips to untangle and all.

They sent me to London Drugs to pick up samples of all the leading toilet paper brands, including that of our client. At the checkout, I must have looked like either the world’s oldest high school student getting ready to TP all my friends’ yards or a sad woman with a severe diarrhea problem. Yea, team. Thanks for that.

Back in the meeting room, they sniffed, squeezed and unraveled roll after roll and got into an intense argument about how direct you could be about TP residue on arses in an ad campaign. Shortly after someone said, “Just shave your ass and the problem’s gone” the meeting devolved into a discussion about manscaping before petering out altogether. I was thrilled to return to my desk area—right after I cleaned up the TP, including the mess left from when Cal and Warren decided to mummify Lenny. They give out college degrees to easily these days.

When they decided to reconvene after lunch, I tried my best to get out of attending. Turns out team players can’t defect. They fell into a conversation about symbols of softness: bunnies, cotton balls, Lenny’s belly. That last idea was my cue to jump in. “Guys, the softness thing has been done to death. I’m sorry, dearly departed Mr. Whipple, but nobody squeezes toilet paper in the grocery store. People EXPECT it to be soft. Find something else to make the product stand out.”

Silence. People stared at me. I’d spoken when I wasn’t supposed to. And then Lenny (of all people) said, “Laura’s got a point.” Validation. Sure, Lenny was probably just tired of being the target of sophomoric jokes and pranks, but it was good enough for me.

KEN’S JOURNAL:

5:30 A.M. & I WAS WIDE AWAKE. SHOULD I GO FOR A JOG? YEAH, WEDNESDAYS ARE MY RUNNING GROUP EVENING, BUT I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE PART OF THE GROUP DURING THE LAST SESSION. I LOATHE LOGAN.

I GOT UP, PUT ON SHORTS & A T-SHIRT, STARTED TO STRETCH. BIGGEST STRETCH CAME FROM MY MOUTH. ALL THAT YAWNING AND I DECIDED TO GO BACK TO BED. I’D FACE THE LADIES (AND LOGAN) AFTER ALL.

SURE ENOUGH, HE SHOWED AGAIN. HOW COULD HE NOT AFTER A HAREM FAWNING OVER HIM LAST WEEK? ONE OF THE MELISSAS ACKNOWLEDGED ME WHEN I ARRIVED, EVEN ASKED IF I HAD DECIDED ON THE SUN RUN. TRUTHFULLY, I WASN’T PLANNING ON SIGNING UP BUT SHE ROPED ME INTO PAYING AND BEING PART OF “OUR” TEAM. ANYTHING JUST TO FEEL PART OF THE CONVERSATION.

GOD, THEY PUBLISH YOUR RESULTS IN THE PAPER, DON’T THEY? AH, WHY WORRY? WHO DO I KNOW THAT WLD BOTHER TO LOOK UP MY NAME?

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

STRANGER CALLING

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): A big interruption comes at just the wrong moment today — but it’s not all bad! In fact, you may get great news or reunite with someone you haven’t seen in ages, so try not to let it bother you.

Laura’s Log:
Monica Tremont took me to lunch today. She tried to act all casual about the invitation. Partners love taking out peon office assistants every now and then. Right. This was about the Derrick debacle, plain and simple. She never came out and said as much. Instead, she kept things vague. “So how are you liking the firm?” I responded in kind. “It’s fine. So far, so good.”

That left forty-five minutes for chitchat over sushi. Talked that California roll to death. As Monica was in the middle of telling me where to get good sushi in Steveston—not that I asked or even cared—Edie shouted my name, came over and gave me a big, fake hug.

“Are you in town visiting?” I asked after introducing my cousin to Monica.

“No. I’m back! Done my time in Toronto and now it’s all West Coast, baby!” I cringed. Didn’t matter what city Edie was in. The worlds ALWAYS revolved around her.

She pulled up a chair and unpacked her takeout. It was a weird experience. I was both mortified and relieved. Suddenly neither Monica nor I had to squeeze out anymore conversation from raw fish. It was all Edie.

She got me through one lunch, but how was I going to get through countless future family events with Edie back in town?

KEN’S JOURNAL:
HAD THE FIRST SESSION OF THE DAY WITH BRAD AGAIN TODAY. I WAS ACTUALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO IT. I HAD WOMEN TO DISCUSS & NONE OF THEM WAS CLARA. THERE WAS LAURA AND THE UNFORTUNATE BEER SPILLAGE INCIDENT, GOLDA AND INSTANT COMFORT AND CARL/CARLA AND MY ALLEGED LESBIAN HATING. A FULL HOUR’S AGENDA.

I’D BARELY BROUGHT UP LAURA WHEN BRAD’S CELL RANG. “I’M SORRY. I HAVE TO TAKE THIS.” HE STEPPED INTO THE WAITING ROOM AND LEFT ME FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES TO REHASH THE LAURA ENCOUNTER ON MY OWN. DID I HAVE TO PAY FOR SELF-THERAPY?

HE BARGED BACK IN, QUICK WITH HIS WORDS. “I HAVE A PATIENT WHO MAY HAVE JUST ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. WE’LL HAVE TO RESCHEDULE. YOUR ISSUES CAN WAIT.”

YES, I HOPE THE PATIENT SURVIVES. BUT, FOR A MOMENT, I WAS THRILLED. MY ISSUES COULD WAIT. MAYBE I WASN’T SUCH A NUT JOB.

Monday, April 19, 2010

WITH FRIENDS (& FAMILY) LIKE THIS…

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You are spending extra time with your people today — or trying to, at least! Your social needs are pretty strong right now, so you need to make sure that you’re making your desires known.

Laura’s Log:

I’m not generally a spontaneous person so when I make a sudden shopping excursion south of the border and stay overnight, it creates havoc with my Vancouver existence. Mom guilted me pretty hard when I picked up Tupper last night. I’d bought her a lovely pair of hand-blown glass mugs which she accepted by saying, “Hmm. Now isn’t that an odd color. What shade would you say it is dear? A perfect match for lime Jell-O? Well, if I ever serve Jell-O, these will be perfect.”

And she topped that by handing me a bag of Tupperware containers. “Since you missed brunch, I had strawberry rhubarb muffins left over. Strawberries really don’t keep so I had to use them all up. You know how your father isn’t one for berries. Loves his melons though. And I’ve thrown in an omelet you can heat up for breakfast tomorrow. You’re so thin. I swear you only eat when you’re over here.”

Somehow I managed to escape to the car. It helped that Tupper threw up in the hallway. Normally, I would’ve grilled Mom about what “treats” she fed him, but I just wanted to go. Didn’t feel the least bit badly when she said, “Never mind that. I’ll clean it up.” It’s called doggy justice. You feed an old Shih-Tzu on a specialized diet half a quiche, he’s going to give it right back to you.

Nadia was next with the how-could-you-go-on-a-shopping-weekend-with-HER spiel. No excuse but I was caught off guard and lashed back with, “Sorry, but I’d had my fill of Bradley over drinks on Friday.” And, just like that, she hung up.

I didn’t get a chance to call Nadia back to make amends because the calls kept coming. Next came Lucy, followed by Estelle. Both were peeved that I was an unannounced no-show for brunch. Without a mediator, it was a disaster. Lucy and Carl(a) stormed out after ten minutes. (That explains why there were so many extra muffins.)

I didn’t have to deal with Tamara until this morning. She stopped by my desk early with a drive-by snipe: “Gosh, that was so much fun yesterday.” Whatever.

I guess there is some truth to the expression absence makes the heart grow fonder. Some truth. The problem is that everyone is expressing their fondness through anger.

KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):

HAD TO CALL MARTY OVER TO THE NEW OFFICE FIRST THING THIS MORNING. CARL & I WERE AT LOGGERHEADS OVER THE BATHROOM INSTALLATION. THE TILE WAS ALL WRONG AND I WANTED IT RIPPED OUT. THE ONLY THING CARL WANTED TO RIP WAS MY FACE OFF. MARTY SAUNTERED IN, ALL SCHMOOZY, AND SMOOTHED THINGS OVER. YES, CARL WOULD TAKE OUT THE TILE. BUT I WOULD HAVE TO LEAVE. FINE. I’DA FIRED CARL BUT S/HE WAS LASHING OUT, ACCUSING ME OF HATING LESBIANS. WTF?!

SARA & I WENT FOR LUNCH. ANOTHER BAD WEEKEND FOR HER. JERRY & TRAVIS WENT AT IT AND BOTH ETHAN & BELLA STARTED GETTING TEARY, ASKING WHY DADDY HATES TRAVIS AND WHY TRAVIS IS YELLING AT EVERYONE. BELLA, IN FACT, HOLED UP IN HER ROOM AND PULLED OUT HER OLD DOLLS. AS SARA EAVESDROPPED FROM THE HALL, SHE HEARD BELLA YELLING AT THE DOLLS. “IF YOU GIRLS DON’T BEHAVE, YOU CAN’T BE IN THE FAMILY NO MORE.” HEARTBREAKING.

AS I SAT ACROSS AND LISTENED, I COULDN’T HELP BUT FEEL SARA HAD SUDDENLY AGED. ONLY 39, BUT LOOKED 50 ALL OF A SUDDEN. I WISH I HAD SOME ANSWERS OR AT LEAST A LITTLE MORE COMFORT FOR HER. IN TRUTH, SHE JUST SEEMED RELIEVED TO HAVE MY EAR FOR AWHILE.

’NUCKS TONITE. MARTY WANTS TO HIT ONE OF THE BARS IN YALETOWN. I LOVE THE PLAYOFF ATMOSPHERE, BUT DON’T KNOW IF I CAN HANDLE A LOSS IN A CROWD. A WIN? NO PROBLEM.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

A CHANCE MEETING

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You find a new social outlet today — one that may surprise you! It’s easier than ever to share feelings and ideas with those who might seem really different from you at first glance.

Laura’s Log:
Okay, I’m moving.

Well, not really. But it’s tempting. Scary, too. I hear Americans are harsh on illegal aliens from Canada.

After grabbing mediocre Thai food in Mount Vernon last night, Katherine and I stopped in at the lobby of our dingy hotel. It’s a midlevel hotel chain but it felt more Motel 6 than Hilton. In fact, I think there are some Motel 6s that outshone our digs. At any rate, Katherine wanted to check email—turns out she’s sort of seeing a prominent chef who has come down with bulimia and an obsession for weightlifting—and I wanted to get the 411 on places to shop in the area.

Got a young guy behind the counter. What could he possibly know about good shopping? “Check out La Conner,” he said. “No chains, all kinds of cute little storefronts. Great area.” Things were slow so he kept talking as Katherine enthusiastically composed a reply to the latest from Barfy. Ten minutes later, we decided to catch the Canucks game instead of hitting a local bar. (The nearest restaurant had a sign out front that read: Forks and knives provided. Since when did that warrant advertising? Who knows what riffraff would flock the bars!)

“That guy was totally into you,” Katherine said.

“What guy?”

“The hotel guy. He was flirting and you were so aloof. He just kept trying harder.”

“I didn’t know he was flirting. Besides, he was, what,…eighteen?”

“Legal. And so cute!” Okay, I had noticed his blue eyes, but I couldn’t say anything. Katherine would have shoved me back in the lobby and conducted a dating intervention.

Got up early after a succession of trains madly blowing their whistle all night. “What trains?” Katherine asked. Are you kidding me?!

We wound up driving to La Conner. Yes, very charming. Ate at a bustling restaurant called the Calico Cupboard, the kind of place where they make apple cinnamon buns that serve eight. I shouldn’t joke, but as we wobbled out, it seemed like the perfect time to be temporarily bulimic. Walked a half a block and I needed to sit for awhile. Let things settle. So we sat at a picnic table outside a chowder-espresso shack. Just imagining that combo made me even more nauseous. It was hard enough to make small talk with Katherine, but a fortysomething hot guy asked if he could join us. No. Yes. Guess which one of us extended an invitation. Fine. Sit there. If I vomit, I’m aiming right at you.

He was very good looking, graying just a little in that sexy kind of George Clooney way. Charming like him, too. Photographer from Seattle. Here to snap the tulips and the Flower Children. “Not like the ’60s,” he explained. They’re usually old ladies and their husbands who unfortunately have golf injuries. They show up first for the daffodils, then the tulips, then the irises. It’s the Petal Circuit. It’s like an annual pilgrimage.”

Suddenly, I felt compelled to say we’d gone up in a helicopter. Figured that way he wouldn’t confuse us with the Blue Hairs. He nodded and said, “Some of my best shots have been from the air. But nothing beats capturing the bond these ladies have with the flowers and each other. Got some amazing pics of the doting husbands—and boyfriends—too.”

My nausea turned to self-consciousness. How big was my temporary brekky bulge? How much worse did it look sitting down? He offered to tour a small, surprisingly classy art museum on the main street. Katherine stalled in the gift shop, pretending she needed to find a birthday present for Aunt Frieda. That left Truman and me to ogle the art and each other. I did say charming, didn’t I? I was fumbling for words, much to his amusement. He’d finish my sentences, not because he knew me on some other level, but because I was repeating myself. Still seemed more exhilarating than embarrassing. His eyes literally twinkled.

Alas. Separated by a vast, well secured border. Our national allegiances were too great. He was, after all, named after an American president and my dog got his name from a Canadian prime minister. Worlds apart.

As we parted, he hugged me and gave me his card. It was pointless, but I accepted it, my hand visibly shaking. After watching him walk away—nice butt, I might add—I turned to the grinning Katherine. “Can we please go home?” I asked. “These Americans are getting to me!”

“Oh, it’s just because they’re fresh goods and you’re fresh goods. That’s what happens when you travel. We should arrange a weekend trip to Kamloops.”

Kamloops?! Sorry, but I wasn’t going to find another Clooney clone there. At best, a Brent Butt clone. Big difference.

KEN’S JOURNAL:

NEEDED TO GET AWAY TODAY. FORGET THE CONDO SEARCH. TOO DEPRESSING. I AWOKE EARLY AFTER A NOT VERY RESTFUL SLEEP. ’NUCK NIGHTMARES. STUPID PENALTIES FROM OUR DUMBEST PLAYERS. HOW DO ALBERTS AND O’BRIEN STEAL THE LIMELIGHT FROM OUR PRIMED-FOR-PLAYOFF STARS? IT AIN’T RIGHT.

HOPPED THE FERRY TO BOWEN ISLAND FOR A DAY HIKE. I JUST WANTED TO BE AWAY FROM EVERYONE. JUST ME, A TRAIL AND PERHAPS A DEER OR TWO. COURSE, IT ALWAYS SEEMS THE WACKOS COME OUT WHEN YOU MOST WANT TO BE ALONE. I GRABBED ANOTHER COFFEE ON THE FERRY AND SHOULD’VE TAKEN IT RIGHT BACK DOWN TO THE CAR FOR A QUICK NAP. INSTEAD, I PICKED OUT AN EMPTY ROW OF SEATS AND STARED OUT AT THE WATER. PEACEFUL, BEAUTIFUL. WHY DIDN’T I HOP A FERRY MORE OFTEN?

THE PEACE ENDED WHEN A THIRTY-YEAR-OLD WOMAN IN DREADLOCKS TOOK A SEAT IN MY ROW. GREAT. IF SHE STARTS SINGING KUMBAYA, I’M JUMPING OVERBOARD. SHE DIDN’T SING, BUT SHE STARTED CHATTING ME UP. “WHERE YOU HEADED?” ISN’T IT OBVIOUS?! “WHAT’S THE DAY PLAN? WHAT MADE YOU DECIDE TO COME OVER?” SHE KEPT QUESTIONING AND FOR SOME REASON I KEPT ANSWERING.

GOLDA. THAT WAS HER NAME. FOR REAL, SHE SWORE. (I’D STILL PUT MY MONEY ON “SUE” OR “LISA”, EVEN “AGNES”. ANYTHING BUT GOLDA.)

SHE SAID SHE WAS A BOWEN ISLANDER. FOR NOW. LIVING WITH A GROUP OF EIGHT PEOPLE IN AN OLD COTTAGE THEY’D BEEN RENTING. AND I’DA PEGGED HER FOR A SQUATTER. AS WE TALKED, I STARTED TO THINK OF HER LESS AS A HIPPIE AND MORE AS A (GASP) PERSON. THAT IN SPITE OF THE FACT SHE WAS VERY MUCH AGAINST THE CANUCKS. WELL, NOT JUST THE CANUCKS—B.C. LIONS, DALLAS COWBOYS, L.A. LAKERS,…ALL PROFESSIONAL SPORTS. OVERPAID AND UNDESERVING “HEROES”, SHE SAID. I COULDN’T REALLY ARGUE THE POINT, BUT NEITHER COULD I IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT SPORTS TEAMS. WITHOUT THEM, I’D ACTUALLY HAVE TO DO THINGS. LIKE HOPPING A FERRY TO BOWEN.

AS WE DOCKED, SHE ASKED IF I WANTED COMPANY ON THE HIKE. TO MY ASTONISHMENT, THE WORD “SURE” SLIPPED OUT OF MY MOUTH. AND, JUST LIKE THAT, MY DAY ALONE ENDED. GOTTA SAY, I REALLY ENJOYED HER COMPANY. SHE WENT ON A BIT TOO LONG ABOUT THINGS YOU CAN WEAVE FROM FOREST LEAVES, BUT SHE WAS AN OTHERWISE GOOD CONVERSATIONALIST AND AN EVEN BETTER LISTENER.

I FOUND MYSELF BEING COMPLETELY OPEN, TALKING ABOUT HOW I’D FAILED WITH CLARA, WITH MY JOB, WITH MOST EVERYTHING. “WHO DECIDES IF YOU’RE A FAILURE?” SHE ASKED. “IS IT TRULY YOUR OWN ASSESSMENT OR ARE YOU RULED TOO MUCH BY OTHER PEOPLE’S EXPECTATIONS?”

MADE ME THINK. HELL, PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING SHE SAID SOMEHOW SEEMED PROFOUND. TALKING WITH HER WAS BOTH FREEING AND TERRIFYING. INTENSE. BY EARLY AFTERNOON, I WAS READY TO CATCH THE FERRY HOME. SHE INVITED ME TO HANG WITH HER ROOMIES FOR “AS LONG AS YOU WANT”. SO OPEN, SO CAREFREE. SO UNLIKE ANYONE I KNEW.

WE WARMLY HUGGED AS I BOARDED AND THEN SHE WAS GONE. AS THE FERRY SAILED, THE OVERBOARD URGE RETURNED. ONLY THIS TIME I WASN’T TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM HER BUT TO SEEK HER OUT AGAIN.

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER. NOT WHAT I’D SET OUT FOR, BUT SOMEHOW JUST WHAT I NEEDED.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

SHOP ’TIL YOU DROP

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your mental energy is riding high today, and you’re almost certainly able to hatch a few new schemes or dream up new inspiration for a part of your life that has been flagging somewhat lately.

Laura’s Log:

Katherine checked in today, a first since Gabriel and I went our separate ways. “What happened?” she asked. “You both seemed so happy.”

“Can we just not do anything to awaken the dead? I’m trying to move forward.”

She quoted Dr. Phil: “And how’s that workin’ for ya?”

“Can I just take a pass? Please?”

“Fine. I can do denial. It just takes a credit card and a yearning for a new outfit…or three. You in?”

She didn’t need to ask. Forty-five minutes later, we were in her car and headed for the border. I despise shopping at factory outlets, but Katherine has an uncanny ability to find that rare item that was unjustly overlooked in being relegated to the reject market. We both went wild at the lululemon store in Burlington. My personal debt was increased by two hoodies, three pants, and four bras. For now, I can feel the rush. My statement won’t come for a month.

What I love about Katherine is she’s so spontaneous. Someone at the Gap outlet mentioned a tulip festival and, just like that, we decided to stay the night. Had to buy more clothes to stay over, but is that so bad? Called Mom and she agreed to round up Tupper for the night. (As she was doing me a favor, I tried not to hang up as she rambled about being inconvenienced and underappreciated. Fifteen minutes later, I feigned a dying cell phone.) Katherine and I got a terribly dated hotel room in Mount Vernon and then headed for the tulip fields. Although showers came intermittently, cyclists and drivers were out in hordes. Katherine conned me into a helicopter ride to get away from the crowds and view the fields from on high. More credit card damage, but worth it. Even on an overcast day, the fields of tulips packed a punch of color. Somehow I managed not to let my nerves show on my first flight in a chopper.

Totally inspiring day. Just what I needed. It’s selfish, but I hope Katherine stays single for as long as I’m in the same state. So tired of my girlfriends hooking up with asshole boyfriends.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
’NUCKS NITE. THE REST OF THE DAY IS JUST PUTTING IN TIME.

AFTER FAILING TO MAKE MUCH OF AN IMPRESSION WITH LAURA YESTERDAY, I DECIDED IT WAS TIME TO BUY SOME NEW CLOTHES TODAY. (EASIER THAN TRYING TO UPDATE MY PERSONALITY.) STILL HAVE SOME LBS TO LOSE, BUT MAYBE A COUPLE OF PAIRS OF TIGHT PANTS ARE WHAT I NEED TO MOTIVATE ME TO TAKE OFF THAT LAST BIT OF WEIGHT.

I HATE SHOPPING. FOR GROCERIES, FOR CONDOS AND MOST ESPECIALLY FOR CLOTHES. I HATE WHEN THE SALES PEOPLE SWOOP IN ON ME AND I HATE WHEN THEY IGNORE ME. THE MALLS JUST MAKE ME WANT TO RUN BACK TO MY CAR SO I HEADED TO KERRISDALE TO SHOP AT HILLS. STILL HAD A HARD TIME. THE STUFF RUNS THE GAMUT FROM TOO TRENDY TO TOO CONSERVATIVE. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO NAVIGATE THROUGH THE TABLES AND RACKS AND FIGURE OUT WHAT IS GOING TO FLATTER A MID-THIRTIES GUY WITH A GUT THAT MIGHT NOT EVER GO COMPLETELY AWAY? (HEY, GOTTA KEEP IT REAL.) MUST’VE TRIED ON FIFTEEN SHIRTS. CAN’T SAY ANY OF THEM LOOKED SO GREAT ON ME. WHO’S TO BLAME—THE CLOTHING DESIGNERS OR MY BODY’S DESIGN? PICKED OUT A NAVY PULLOVER SWEATER (DEFINITELY CONSERVATIVE) AND A DARK GREEN TEE W/BLACKBIRDS INEXPLICABLY FLAPPING ALL OVER THE FRONT—EITHER TOO TRENDY OR PLAIN HIDEOUS. (WENDY, THE EVER-PATIENT SALES ASSOCIATE, SAID IT WAS A HOT ITEM. WHATEVER. DECIDED TO TAKE IT JUST SO I COULD GO HOME SOONER.) MANAGED TO STICK AROUND LONG ENUF TO ADD A PAIR OF JEANS TO THE TALLY.

SHOPPING ORDEAL DONE. CANUCKS NEED A WIN TO HELP SALVAGE THE DAY.

Friday, April 16, 2010

BUMP IN THE NIGHT

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You are drawing amazing people your way, even if you can’t quite see them yet. Keep your eyes open and make sure that you are ready for anyone who comes by looking for a good time.

Laura’s Log:
Drinks at the Yaletown Brewery after work today. Tamara insisted. She wanted Nadia to meet Todd and insisted that I come along to see Todd in a different light. “He’s much more relaxed outside of work.” Look out! One of Todd’s problems was he was TOO relaxed at work. Actually greeted Barry Lisduff this morning with “Gotta lay off the bagels, man. Seriously, man, have you ever tried grapefruit?” Not acceptable intern-to-partner conversation. Poor Barry refused to even make an appearance for the Friday goodies break. Homemade Bailey’s chocolate chunk cheesecake courtesy of Duncan who worked for two years as a pastry chef in Chicago. Save the grapefruit for when Todd shows up with a bag of Nilla Wafers.

Didn’t surprise me that Bradley and Todd hit it off instantly. Bradley caught Lady Gaga on a TV screen and said, “So do you think she shaves down there or went perma-bare with electrolysis?” Nadia’s face reddened, but she failed to rein in her adorable beau and Todd offered encouragement with a hearty guffaw. The two of them chatted about pubic hair for the next five minutes. What better way to get to know someone new?

Things got worse when Todd’s friend Spence “unexpectedly” showed up. The guy started chatting me up with lines like, “So why haven’t we had a one-night stand yet?” Bigger ass than Todd? When Spence announced he was “goin’ for a piss”, Todd confessed, “I’m throwing you a boner here, Laura. I haven’t measured or nothin’, but Spence’s ex always said he was born with a gift if you know what I mean.”

I used Tupper as my exit card. “Weak bladder,” I said.

“There’s always Depends,” joked Todd. Spence and Bradley hooted in approval. Neither Tamara nor Nadia dared make eye contact with me. Not sure if they were more embarrassed for me or for themselves.

On the way to the door, I bumped right into What’s His Name, the creepy grinner Carl(a) had a meeting with a few weeks back at Bean Around the World. In smashing into him, I managed to spill his beer all over his shirt. “I’m so sorry. Let me buy you another.”

Maybe he sensed my urgency in leaving. He brushed off the offer and the suds. “No worries. I have a habit of spilling. Just not usually this early.” He looked goofy, almost sweet. Maybe he wasn’t creepy. Of course, after an hour with Larry, Curly and Moe, it was the perfect time for any lesser buffoon to shine. I apologized again and he insisted I go. The grin never left his face. Must be some meds.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
WHY AM I SUCH A PUTZ? RAN INTO CARL’S FRIEND LAURA AGAIN. LITERALLY. SPILLED BEER ALL OVER MYSELF. MAYBE IT WAS A SIGN THAT I SHLD BE CELEBRATING LOSING 11 LBS WITH CLUB SODA INSTEAD OF A BREWSKY. I’D LIKE TO THINK IT WAS A MORE ENCOURAGING SIGN. I WAS GETTING ANOTHER CHANCE @ MAKING A GOOD IMPRESSION W/HER. OK, THE SPILLAGE WASN’T A GOOD WAY TO GET NOTICED, BUT SOMEHOW IT WORKED. SHE BLAMED HERSELF, SEEMED MORTIFIED.

I JUST STOOD THERE & GRINNED. IT WAS THE PERFECT TIME TO ASK HER OUT. MAYBE IT WLD BE A PITY DATE, BUT GOTTA GET THAT FOOT IN THE DOOR SOMEHOW. NO WAY SHE’D’VE SAID NO. SPILL A GUY’S DRINK ALL OVER HIM & THEN REJECT HIM?! SHE CLDN’T BE THAT COLD, CLD SHE?

COURSE, I’LL NEVER KNOW. STILL GRINNING, I WAVED LIKE THE QUEEN AS SHE FLED.

YOU CAN BET I DIDN’T SPILL A DROP OF THE NEXT 4 BEERS.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

LOVE DON’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You are in a really good place right now — especially if you are seeking to reinvigorate your love life! You look and act as appealing as anyone could ask for, so make sure the right person is watching.

Laura’s Log:
Head scratcher of a horoscope today. Couldn’t be more off if it had told me to pull out the hammer and nails and start a birdhouse building hobby. Strange emotional episodes notwithstanding, I’m not looking to “reinvigorate” things with Gabriel. And I’m having a really bad hair day and I (once again) spilled my latté on my white blouse so I don’t get the comment that I “look and act as appealing as anyone could ask for”. Is the Laura standard that low?!

I’m in a snit at the moment. It’s part Pity Party, part Divorce My Family reverie. After Tuesday’s disastrous attempt at mediating the latest sisterly feud, Lucy and Estelle peppered me with phone calls yesterday, not requesting another round of peace talks, but wanting to persuade me that the other sister was the insane, inflexible, insensitive one. Can’t we just call it a tie?

Just as I sat down with a bowl of organic, low-fat popcorn to find out which Idols were getting the boot, the phone rang yet again. Which one this time? Unfortunately, it was neither. That’s right: unfortunately. Sister crazy is at least predictable. Don’t really have to say anything. Let ’em rant.

“Uh, hi there. Is this Laura Nebergall?” Shaky voice. Male. I could sense the nervous sweat oozing through the airwaves.

“Who’s calling?” A first time telemarketer? A repentant Derrick? The creepy neighbor who sneezes and hugs the wall every time I pass him in the hall? Did he have my mail? Please tell me he didn’t paw my Entertainment Weekly!

“Uh, well, you don’t, uh, know me, but my mom told me to, uh, give you a call. Your mom gave, uh, my mom your, uh, number. My mom said you’d be, uh, expecting, uh, my, uh, my, uh, you know,…my call.”

Ah, the highly desirable Betty Ng’s son. Still didn’t have a first name.

Ten minutes later, he finally thought to introduce himself. Jacky Uh Ng. Not sure if he meant to divulge the middle name. Probably spilled it in a fit of anxiety. Didn’t find out what he does for a living, but he’s big on backgammon, Ping Pong and Céline Dion. The last fact came as her version of “All By Myself” blared on repeat in the background. Okay, it could be my theme song too, but who advertises that when calling to ask someone out?

He finally got the courage up to ask me to “coffee or a ride on the Skytrain.” Since when was a ride on Skytrain a date? Skytrain as a destination, not a mode of transportation! As odd as Jacky came across, it was painful to have to decline. “I’m just getting out of a relationship. I’m not ready to date again.”

“Oh, uh, of course. I’m uh sorry.” And cue dial tone. Poor guy. I’m sure he had to go shower.

Maybe rejecting Jacky explained today’s bad karma: my bad hair, my stained blouse, my lingering tummy lump from last night’s entire bag of mini chocolate brownies scarfed down as I bid adieu to (Ugly) Betty, my cruel horoscope. Indeed, maybe I needed to start seeing the world from the low Laura standard.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
DECENT RUN LAST NITE. I’VE FIRMLY ESTABLISHED MY PLACE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PACK. MIGHT AS WELL HAVE RUN ON MY OWN THOUGH. MADDIE AND THE OTHERS BARELY ACKNOWLEDGED ME.

A NEW GUY SHOWED UP. LOGAN. PERFECT NAME BECAUSE CLEARLY THIS WAS LOGAN’S RUN. BLOND, BLUE-EYED AND LANKY WITH NO TRACE OF AN AFFINITY FOR BEER, HE HAD THE WOMEN SWOONING ALL OVER HIM.

I INSTANTLY HATED LOGAN. OF COURSE, MY OPINION WASN’T WHAT MATTERED. HE SPED OFF WITH THE FRONT GROUP, ALREADY DONE HIS COFFEE BY THE TIME I HOBBLED IN. MARGIE BOUGHT HIM ANOTHER. NOT EVEN COFFEE—EFFIN’ STEAMED NONFAT MILK!

“OOH, THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD!” ONE OF THE MELISSAS COOED. SUDDENLY EVERYONE WAS SIPPING HOT WATERY MILK. IT WAS THEN I REALIZED I WAS LACTOSE INTOLERANT. I POURED MY CAPPUCCINO INTO A TO-GO CUP AND LEFT.

NOT THAT ANYONE NOTICED.

YEP, I LOATHE LOGAN. RUNNING GROUP CRASHER!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

HIGHS & LOWS

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your mood could swing all over the map today, but remember to check your assumptions if you find yourself sliding into depression or boredom. You may just need to see things from a fresh perspective.

Laura’s Log:
You know it’s bad when you sit down with sisters in a packed coffeehouse and, five minutes later, all the surrounding tables are vacant. Lucy came out swinging: “Admit it. You have never been comfortable with the fact I’m a lesbian. And you have a fear that I’m going to turn Gretel that way, too.”

Estelle was flabbergasted, but managed to be articulate. “What you’re right about is I’m not comfortable around you. I know it disgusts you, but I’m uncomfortable about a lot of things. Tiger Woods. Ryan Seacrest. Even—I know this will shock you—Sarah Palin. I don’t care that you’re a lesbian. I care that you’re an angry person—not just an angry lesbian. You’re angry about everything. Laura and I wanted to meet at Starbucks, but going to a big corporate entity would have sent you over the edge. Although you seem to already be there.”

Lucy didn’t hear much of what Estelle had to say. She picked out the “angry lesbian” and went for the jugular. “Listen to you! Demonizing lesbians! We’re all angry! We’re the serial killers in movies! We’re Rosie O’Donnell going ballistic on that cute, petite Elizabeth puppet on ‘The View’.”

Ahem. My turn to step up as mediator. “Listen, let’s just calm down and—”

But Elizabeth was seething. “Yeah, all lesbians are angry. That’s exactly what I said. That Ellen Degeneres, why does she have to be so mean on ‘Idol’?”

A few more heated exchanges and Lucy stormed out. Not a moment too soon. A timid barista was edging toward our table, likely coming to ask us to keep it down. Pretty please. With Lucy’s grand exit, the worker retreated safety behind the counter, no doubt wondering if minimum wage was worth it. (Later, as we were leaving, I tossed an extra Toonie in the tip jar.)

It took Estelle twenty minutes to unwind. Would’ve been longer but then she remembered her digital camera in her purse. She pulled it out and showed the pics she’d snapped at Gretel’s last Taps for Tots session. All 117 of them. I really felt like I was there.
* * *
Woke up at 4:15 this morning, Tupper throwing up again. After some mopping and a walkie, I couldn’t get back to sleep. Dangerous thoughts came to mind. I’d lost Gabriel. Had I expected too much? What if he was my last shot? And what about Tupper? Was he in pain? How much longer did he have? Would I know when it was the right time to take him to the vet one last time? Would I do it? Why was Tim Urban still on “American Idol”? Why was I still watching? And what would I do after “Ugly Betty” was all over? Why didn’t I have a real life?

I tried to deceive myself with happy thoughts. But Häagen-Dazs coffee ice cream only brings a smile when it’s stocked in the freezer. Bland low-fat vanilla frozen yogurt? Meh.

I thought of Lucy’s rage. We all knew it was pathological and needed treatment, but who would dare to bring it up? How did Carl(a) deal with it? I thought of Dad. Weeks (months?) ago, he’d said they were trying to force his retirement. He’d looked despondent. How was he doing? Unlike Lucy, or Mom even, he was so hard to read. Would he open up if I tried to go there or would he just be embarrassed for sharing in the first place and build a taller, thicker wall?

I looked to Tupper for comfort, but he was back to snoring. Oh, to be a dog. Why couldn’t I just vomit?

KEN’S JOURNAL:

WHEN SARA ASKED IF WE COULD MEET @ GRANDVIEW PARK THIS MORNING, I KNEW THERE HAD TO BE TROUBLE. SHE COULDN’T BE IN HER RIGHT MIND—WHY ELSE WLD SHE SUGGEST MTG WHERE WE CLD WATCH DERELICTS SHOOT UP & BEG FOR “BUS FARE”?

I SPED OVER B/C I DIDN’T LIKE THE IDEA OF HER SITTING THERE ALONE, BUT SHE WAS ALREADY ON A BENCH WHEN I PULLED UP. HADN’T EVEN SAT DOWN WHEN SHE SAID, “IF IT COMES TO IT, WLD YOU TAKE IN TRAVIS?”

I REALLY NEEDED TO SIT. “WHERE’D THAT COME FROM?”

“HE & JERRY HAD AN AWFUL WEEKEND. STARTED IN THE CAR ON THE WAY BACK FROM YOUR PLACE.”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO—”

“NO, IT’S NOT YOU AT ALL. YOU WERE GREAT W/TRAVIS. REALLY! I SHLD’VE CALLED YOU ON THE WEEKEND TO SAY THANKS. THERE WAS JUST SO MUCH GOING ON. I ACTUALLY TOOK ETHAN & RUDY & BELLA TO THE AQUARIUM ON SATURDAY JUST TO GET THEM AWAY. AND ME AWAY. SUNDAY WAS MUCH BETTER. TRAVIS BARRICADED HIMSELF IN HIS ROOM GETTING HIGH & JERRY WAS HOLED UP IN HIS OFFICE.” SHE LOOKED @ ME & HER EYES WELLED UP. “HE’S 13, KEN. HOW DO WE MAKE IT ’TIL 18? IF HE STICKS AROUND THAT LONG. I HONESTLY DON’T KNOW.”

I DIDN’T HAVE ANY ANSWERS. I JUST PUT MY ARM AROUND SARA & SHE LEANED IN & BAWLED. TEARS WERE COMING SO EASILY OF LATE. AND TRAV WAS JUST THE 1ST TO HIT ADOLESCENCE. WHAT CHALLENGES WLD THE OTHER 3 BRING?

AFTER SHE’D CALMED—AN HR LATER!—I KNEW I CLDN’T LEAVE HER ALONE FOR THE DAY. I’D JUST HAVE TO TRUST THAT CARL WASN’T MESSING UP THE RENO, IGNORING ALL MY REQUESTS (“DEMANDS”, AS HE CALLED THEM). I TOOK HER TO VAN DUSEN GARDENS & LUNCH @ SHAUGHNESSY RESTAURANT. SOMETIMES WHEN THINGS GET TOO BIG, A LITTLE RESPITE IS THE BEST YOU CAN HOPE FOR.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

WW III

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’re the master of compromise, but today you might have to give up more than you like. It’s a good time to throw yourself into selflessness, as the greater good comes first for now.

Laura’s Log:
I got flowers at work this morning. Was Gabriel having second thoughts? No. Alas…and whew. Still confused over the dumping. It was another token of thanks from my coworkers. This time two admin assistants, Duncan and Bonnie. Yesterday, Carmen bought me coffee. Friday, a gang took me to lunch. Seems Derrick was universally despised. No surprise there, but why was I getting the gratitude? It had been Janice who reported him. Nobody seemed concerned with accuracy. The story read better with a peon taking him down.

The great debate was whether Derrick would return. “They should’ve fired him outright.” “Oh, he’ll be back. Nobody does revenge like Derrick.” “He’s all ego. His pride has been shattered. No way he’s coming back.” No bouquet was going to put me at ease—especially given that revenge remark. (It did seem the likeliest scenario.)
* * *
I spent last night fielding phone calls from Lucy and Estelle. Apparently after I’d left Mom and Dad’s on Sunday, Carl(a) showed up and announced that she was starting a new reno on Dunbar, spitting distance from Estelle and Curtis. Lucy said something like, “We’ll have to stop by and check out what you’ve done to Gretel’s room.” And Estelle said nothing.

So began the Cold War.

Beyond the safety of Mom and Dad’s place, Estelle and Lucy didn’t mix. They’d never related to one another. I don’t think they’d ever so much as talked on the phone. Lucy was classic butch, Estelle as prissy as they come. Lucy waffled between NDP and Green; Estelle was an unconditional Conservative. Vegan versus veal.

“I know she’s my sister,” Estelle began, “but she scares me.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Estelle. What’s there to be afraid of?”

“She spews hate. She acts all liberal, but she’s the most intolerant person I know. If you disagree with her about anything—even something like backyard chickens—you’re the enemy. It’s all personal.” After an hour of trying to make the supposedly more flexible Estelle see Lucy in a different light, Estelle dropped the bomb: “I don’t want her to have an influence on Gretel and Sven.”

The fear was deeper than I’d thought.

Lucy wasn’t any easier. She was clearly hurt, but Lucy didn’t do hurt. It manifested in vitriol. “She’s a Harper Harpy. It’s like here’s the party line. Read it, say it. Just don’t think about it. The world revolves around white Yuppie moms and the most pressing issue should be resolving the scheduling conflict over swim lessons and Tap for Tots.”

Not allowing myself to bask in the cease-fire at work, I set up coffee with Lucy, Estelle and me for tonight. How serious could burns be from coffee? Maybe I was worrying too much, but I decided it was worth a Google.

KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
WE GOT THE KEYS TO THE NEW OFFICE YESTERDAY. DON’T OFFICIALLY GET THE LEASE FOR A FEW MORE WEEKS, BUT THE LANDLORD AGREED THAT IT WAS BETTER FOR THE SPACE TO LOOK A LITTLE LIVED IN THAN TO SIT VACANT. CARL STARTED THE RENOVATIONS THIS MORNING AND I’M ON A BREAK RIGHT NOW. NEED TO COOL OFF.

WE STARTED ON A WRONG NOTE WHEN I SAID SOMETHING ABOUT THE ELECTRICAL WORK. CARL LASHED OUT: “WELL AREN’T YOU THE EXPERT!” GRANTED, I KNEW NOTHING ABOUT WIRING. I BACKED OFF BUT THAT SET THE TONE. SUDDENLY CARL WAS TRYING TO SHUT ME OUT OF DECISIONS RE. FLOORING, LIGHT FIXTURES, EVEN THE BRAND OF PAINT.

AS IT TURNS OUT, CARL HAD GOTTEN A DEAL ON LAMINATE. NOT THE HIGH-END LOOK MARTY AND I WERE GOING FOR. WHEN I REMINDED CARL OF OUR PROSPECTIVE CLIENTELE, CARL SHOT BACK, “WHAT?! SOME PEOPLE TOO GOOD FOR FREAKIN’ LAMINATE? YOU’RE NOT GONNA MAKE THEM TAKE THEIR SHOES OFF, ARE YOU?”

BACK AND FORTH. I’D LIKE TO SAY CARL WAS THE ONLY ONE TO GET HOT-HEADED BUT THIS WAS A WHOLE NEW KIND OF HEAT WAVE. FINALLY, I YELLED, “YOU LAY DOWN LAMINATE, YOU’RE FIRED!

CARL’S RESPONSE: “WOW. WAY TO SHUT DOWN A DISCUSSION,…BOSS.”

DISCUSSION?! I WAS THE CLIENT AND CARL WASN’T LISTENING. NO CHOICE BUT TO BE A DICTATOR (OR DICK-TATOR). WHATEVER.

STORMED OUT AND NOW I’M ON MY SECOND STARBUCKS CAPPUCCINO. NOTHING LIKE A JOLT OF CAFFEINE TO TAKE AWAY THE EDGE.

Monday, April 12, 2010

DON’T CALL ME, I’LL CALL YOU

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’re dealing with relationship issues with a new determination — you might force your mate or kids to sit down and hear you out, or you might seek out a new partner through new means.

Laura’s Log:
So I’m suddenly single again and everyone else is coupled up. Well, not everyone. Mom couldn’t help herself, throwing out recommendations at brunch yesterday. It’s her view that the best way to get over a guy is to find another guy with due speed. Good thing Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts; otherwise, I think she may very well have been a dating slut.

She chimed in early. “I keep telling you that Betty Ng’s son is available. I don’t think he has a phone because of some charges he’s disputing, but why don’t you give his mother a call? She always says how cute you are.”

Marella stuffed a scone in her mouth to suppress the snicker. Betty Ng’s son—his name was Henry, wasn’t it?—was just the type to have an exorbitant Telus bill. Good bet he was a porn addict.

When I held firm with No Comment on Betty Ng’s son, Mom went back to her ol’ standby. “I don’t know why you ever broke up with Harvey Burns. You know he’s never gotten over you. I’m sure that’s why he’s getting divorced. Well, that and his wife’s nasty gambling habit. He’s broke and broken. Now’s your time to swoop in!”

And with that, Marella spit blackberry scone bits all over the table. Even Gretel had the sense to be repulsed.

After brunch, I checked voicemail. Nadia was inviting Gabriel and me to join Bradley and her for a night of bowling. It stung. I hated bowling. Who wants to put on clown shoes that a thousand people have already sweated in? I hated creepy, rude Bradley even more. Go figure that calling to say “No thanks” hurt so much. I should have been thanking Gabriel for sparing me a night of misery. Oh, there was still gloom—just on my own. It’s true what they say: misery loves company.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
B/F ONLINE DATING, THERE WERE THOSE PHONE CHAT GROUPS ADVERTISED ON LATE NITE TV. REMEMBER THE BLEACH BLONDES W/BIG BREASTS LYING SEDUCTIVELY ON A BED? “OOH, CALL ME. GIRLS LIKE ME ARE WAITING.” YEAH, RIGHT. SOME PREGNANT SINGLE MOM W/4 KIDS AND THREE FRONT TEETH KNOCKED OUT FROM A RECENT CAT FIGHT @ THE LOCAL BAR WAS GETTING PAID TO SAY THINGS LIKE, “OOH, I BUSTED ANOTHER VIBRATOR. THE THINGS JUST CAN’T KEEP UP WITH ME.”

WEB DATING SITES ARE A VARIATION ON THE SAME JOKE. GOTTA BE. I GET NO RESPONSES WHEN I SEND A WOMAN A MSG & NO ONE IS INITIATING THINGS W/ME. IF IT’S NOT A JOKE, THEN I’M EVEN MORE OF A LOSER THAN I THOUGHT.

HMM, MAYBE THERE’S JUST A DEFECT W/MY INBOX.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

JILTED

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’ve got too much stuff going on right now, and it’s time to drop a few activities if you can. You can return to them in the near future, when your energy levels return to normal (more or less).

Laura’s Log:
We agreed to meet at Las Margaritas. Good to have The Talk in public. I walked there, deciding I needed the cool air and the time to figure out what to say to end a relationship that really didn’t have anything going for it other than a strong physical attraction and great sex. When I was twenty, that would have been a perfect combination. Considering all the clumsy geeks I encountered back then, Gabriel would have been the grand prize. But once I hit thirty, the standards for dating rose. Some people—namely, my mother—might say the standards should be lowered, given the smaller dating pool comprised of damaged goods. Yet somewhere in that decade of time I realized I could live independently and a man could make life worse as much as he could make life better.

I don’t know if it’s fair to say Gabriel makes my life any worse. And the sex makes my life better. What a relief to end the drought—and to do so with a bang! That’s what makes the decision to end things all the tougher. There is nothing wrong with Gabriel. He is not a total ass like Derrick. He’s not frustratingly non-communicative like Jeremy Welles. And he certainly isn’t a conservative, money-means-life dweeb like Harvey. A month had been a good run. If all I wanted was a fuck buddy, Gabriel could stick around. But fuck buddies were for Marella. She loved the simplicity, the specific focus. But I still had (faint) hope for a long-term relationship. While there didn’t seem to be a prime candidate waiting in the wings, prolonging things with Gabriel just wasn’t helping the cause.

So how to end it? How not to sound like a cliché? How to be honest without being hurtful? I could have walked all the way to Chilliwack and still not have any answers.

Of course, the place was packed when I arrived. Gabriel was already in the bar area. That was a plus. He was not the habitually late type like Harvey. Stop thinking of plusses. Not the time! “I ordered you a margarita,” he said after a quick kiss. Right on cue, the drinks arrived. I preferred no salt, but not the time to quibble.

We spent ten minutes catching up on our week’s events. He talked too long about iPads. It was only three or four sentences, but one would have sufficed. And then, after a gap in conversation when we both scanned the restaurant to see if any tables were opening up, he said, “Laura, you’re a nice person, but I just don’t see a future between us.”

It would have been so easy to say, “Me neither.” Unfortunately, I was too stunned. Oh, my god. Gabriel was breaking up with me! Oh, my god. Why was I suddenly feeling sick to my stomach? This was what I wanted and he was relieving me of having to lead The Talk. Why wasn’t I grateful? Why did I feel so rejected?

I even cried.

We never got a table. It was all over by the time a hostess came to seat us. Why sit through an awkward dinner with the shallow, heartless bastard who was dumping me? I used the hostess’ intrusion as my cue to flee. A dramatic exit. Ick. Worse, Gabriel spotted me walking down 4th, rolled down his passenger window and begged me to get in to finish the talk or at least to get a ride home. I waved him off and ran for cover into the convenience store. The poor attendant tentatively surveyed me before asking, “You okay, ma’am? Have you been hurt?”

Oh, god, it showed. I was hurt! Never saw it coming.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
GREAT GAME LAST NITE. HENRIK ROCKED! TOO BAD MARTY WAS SO EFFIN’ DISTRACTING.

HE BUZZED ME FIVE MIN INTO THE 1ST PERIOD. SHOULD’VE NEVER LET HIM UP. HIS EYES WERE ALL RED. I FIGURED MAYBE HE’D GONE BACK TO DOING POT. WISH THAT’S ALL IT WAS. HE’D BEEN CRYING. CRYING!

ALL THE TIMES HE MADE FUN OF ME FOR BEING SUCH A WUSS AFTER CLARA DUMPED ME & HERE HE WAS DISTRAUGHT B/C STELLA DUMPED HIM AFTER LESS THAN 24 HRS.

“SHE’S GETTING MARRIED NEXT WEEK,” HE WHINED. “I COULD’VE MARRIED HER.”

MARTY TALKIN’ MARRIAGE? DAMMIT, I HAD TO PUT THE CANUCKS ON MUTE. “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, MAN. YOU ONLY MET HER LAST NITE.”

“YEAH. SHE COULD’VE BEEN THE ONE.”

“MARRIAGE? ARE YOU FUCKIN’ NUTS.”

HE STARED BLANKLY AT THE TV SCREEN. “THE SEX WAS THAT GOOD. WHO CARES ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE? I’DA MARRIED HER.”

I HAD TO BOGART MY BEER & START ANOTHER. OBVIOUSLY, I WAS THINKING TOO CLEARLY. “IT WOULDN’T HAVE LASTED.”

“COURSE NOT. A FEW WEEKS MAYBE. THEN WE’DA HAD IT ANNULLED. LIKE CELEBS DO ALL THE TIME. BRITNEY SPEARS, CHER. I HEARD LIZ TAYLOR’S GETTING HITCHED AGAIN.”

DAMMIT, THE FLAMES SCORED. STILL A COMFORTABLE 3-1 ’NUCKS, BUT LUONGO SHOULD HAVE STOPPED THAT ONE. MARTY WAS TOO LOVESTRICKEN TO FOCUS ON THE GAME. WISH I COULD’VE CALLED HIM A CAB & GOT BACK TO HOCKEY NITE IN CANADA, BUT I HAD TO TALK HIM THRU. “WHAT THE HELL YOU BRINGING UP LIZ TAYLOR FOR, MAN? ARE YOU HIGH?”

“LIZ TAYLOR’S HOT. AT LEAST UP UNTIL ABOUT 5 YRS AGO.”

“SERIOUSLY, MAN?! LIZ TAYLOR ONLY STOPPED BEING HOT 5 YRS AGO?!”

HE DIDN’T HEAR ME. HE GRABBED A PILLOW FROM THE SOFA & HUGGED IT. PRACTICALLY MAULED IT. TIME FOR A DRY CLEANING TRIP. HE ROCKED AS HE CONT’D TO GRIP THE PILLOW. “THE HONEYMOON WOULDA BEEN AMAZING!”

DIDN’T KNOW IF HE WAS STILL TALKIN’ LIZ TAYLOR OR IF HE WAS BACK TO STELLA. DIDN’T ASK. IT WAS SITUATIONS LIKE THIS THAT HIGHLIGHTED THE REASONS GUYS DON’T SHARE.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

BLINDED BY SEX?

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You may find that it’s harder than usual for you to get your friends to focus — but that’s not your job, is it? Expect disruptions and little problems to interfere with plans all day long.

Laura’s Log:
“They know you can sue them for harassment, don’t they?”

“I don’t know. I suppose.”

“They need to know you know that’s a possibility.”

“Marella, I just started there. I don’t want to create a stir.”

“Too late for that. You’ve sent one of their up-and-comers on stress leave. Some of the partners might resent you. They need to know you know you were harassed. It’s job security. How ’bout I make a call?”

Sometimes having a sister who was a cutthroat lawyer was a liability. She took a perfectly nice kung po chicken at Wild Rice and made it tasteless.

* * *
Gabriel cancelled our late-night hookup, saying he was tired. Hmm. Only a month in and the promise of hot sex wasn’t enough. I’d only seen him once this week. True, I’d had that assignment from hell at work, but there’s something more going on. If sex is the best part and I’m not getting any, well,…it may be time to have The Talk.

* * *
Tamara met me for brunch this morning at Trattoria Italian Kitchen. Ostensibly she wanted to grill me on the Derrick debacle. A half cup of coffee in and the conversation had moved on.

“So how young do you think is too young?” she asked. Her hands shook as she held her coffee mug. No one gets a caffeine buzz off a half dozen sips. Something told me her question was coming a little late. Like when Mom asked vegetarian Lucy if chicken stock was okay after everyone had finished the homemade pumpkin soup. Oh, Tamara, what have you done?

“Well,…he’s legal, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” She was beaming.

“Does he know Johnny Depp was a TV star?”

“Probably not. And I think that’s something Johnny Depp would like us all to forget.”

“Well, is he done with college?”

“Uh,…not quite.”

And cue coughing fit. The coffee went down the wrong way. So did Tamara’s answer. She seemed delighted to trigger such a reaction. (Yes, dear Tamara. If the Heimlich were necessary I’d have to count on a bus boy to step up. That is, if she wasn’t trying to distract him with her cleavage.)

Once I’d recovered, she leaned forward and whispered, “I know I shouldn’t but…he’s from work.”

“What do you mean ‘from work’?” I asked. “Everyone there is past…” Oh. My. God. Not the intern. Not obnoxious Todd! Unfortunately, there were no other options.

And suddenly I was following up a tasteless dinner with a toughest plate of eggs I’d ever chewed—no fault to the chef.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
ENTERTAINING A TEEN IS EXHAUSTING. I MUST’VE FALLEN ASLEEP ON THE SOFA LAST NITE W/IN 5 MIN OF JERRY PICKING UP TRAVIS. WOKE UP AT 2:30 A.M., THE TV BLARING AS AN OLD LADY DID SPINS IN A WHEELCHAIR ON A CARPET. THE STUNTS GET LO-TECH ON LATE NITE.

MARTY & I HAD FOUR UNITS TO SEE THIS MORNING. NEVER GOT THE SENSE MARTY WAS INTO IT. HIS CELL KEPT RINGING EVERY COUPLE MINUTES. NOT CLIENTS. AT LEAST, I HOPE NOT CLIENTS. IF HE MADE A HABIT OF SAYING “I CAN’T WAIT TO DO YOU DOGGY AGAIN” TO CLIENTS, OUR NEW VENTURE WAS DOOMED. OR…MAYBE IT WOULD BE JUST THE THING TO GIVE US A NICHE.

STELLA WAS HER NAME. HE PICKED HER UP AT AuBAR LAST NITE. MUST’VE BEEN SOME NITE. MARTY WASN’T KNOWN FOR GIVING OUT HIS NUMBER. NOT THE CORRECT ONE ANYWAY.

“STELLA?! OLD SOUNDING NAME,” I SAID, TRYING TO COVER UP AN IRRITATING STRAIN OF JEALOUSY.

“NOTHIN’ OLD FASHIONED ABOUT HER!” HE GRINNED. “SHE’S A FREAK! WE DID STUFF THAT WON’T BE LEGAL FOR ANOTHER CENTURY. IF EVER.”

AND THEN HE GOT BACK TO BUSINESS. THANK GOD MARTY WAS A PROFESSIONAL. “SO DO YOU LIKE THIS DUMP OR CAN WE CALL IT A DAY? STELLA WANTS TO GO AGAIN & GOTTA SAY I GOTTA GO.”

YEAH, THE CONDO WE WERE LOOKING AT WAS A DUMP. BUT THAT WASN’T THE POINT. NOT THAT MY OPINION MATTERED. STELLA HAD STOLEN MARTY’S HEART.

WELL, NOT HIS HEART.

Friday, April 9, 2010

CLEAR SAILING

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You need to remember to have fun today — not that you should have much trouble doing so! Your mind is absorbing new information at quite a clip, and you should be able to find new ways to enjoy life.

Laura’s Log:
Turns out I can let go of all that info in my head about Ferris wheels and goat petting farms. By 9:15 yesterday morning, there wasn’t a partner to be found on the floor. They were all convening in the conference room, throwing havoc in the planned meeting agenda for the day. First, Janice was summoned to make an appearance. Then, Derrick. Janice’s session lasted five minutes; Derrick’s, ten times that. When he left, he was flanked by Bryson Byers and Steven Aguilar as he headed straight for the elevator. Bryson boarded with Derrick and the Big, Bad Wolf did not return.

The meeting in the conference room continued another forty-five minutes. By then, the office buzz was palpable. “What did you do to Derrick?” Carmen Liu asked me. She was all sparkly eyed and it looked like she wanted to hug me.

“Nothing,” I answered in complete honesty.

“Right,” Carmen said, not buying it. “I just want you to know, you’re my hero.” She walked away, a skip in her step.

When I grabbed a coffee refill in the lunchroom, several employees were taking a prolonged coffee break, taking advantage of the partners’ emergency session and gossiping over Derrick Matthews. Todd, an obnoxious intern who was usually preoccupied with Tweeting, loudly clapped when he saw me. “We should call you Dorothy,” he said cryptically.

All eyes were on me. “Huh?”

“It’s like your office desk got sucked up in a dust devil and flattened Derrick when it came back down. Ding dong, the dick is dead!”

I quickly returned to my desk. A plain IKEA-variety desk with no wings, no sails. The last thing I wanted was a reputation that I’d taken down Derrick Matthews. I’d seen enough news stories about employees getting the boot and then coming back to settle the score.

At 11:30, my presence was request in the conference room. By then, only Bryson, Barry and Monica Tremont, the firm’s only female partner, were still present. She’s the one who spoke. “We have seen the work memo Derrick Matthews gave you, outlining an assignment with a deadline set for this afternoon. I can say on behalf of the entire firm that the task was…inappropriate. Obviously, it is unfortunate that you had to experience such a…an unusual task at any point with us, but particularly in light of the fact that you are a relatively new hire.”

Barry butted in: “That assignment is dead. You will not report to Derrick in any capacity from now on. Should that change, it would only happen after a careful review, including a discussion with you.”

Monica took over once again. It seemed she desperately wanted to make the next announcement. “Derrick has been undergoing a great deal of stress recently. For that reason, he is taking an indefinite leave of absence.” As formal as she wanted to come across, I saw the corners of her mouth curve upward. Size and status notwithstanding, there were happy Munchkins everywhere.

KEN’S JOURNAL:
AS WE KAYAKED IN FALSE CREEK, I SAW THE KID RETURN TO TRAVIS’ FACE. THE GOOD KID. GOD, I WISH SARA HAD BEEN THERE. HE LAUGHED CRUELLY (YET APPROPRIATELY) AS I ALMOST ROLLED MY BOAT WHEN I TRIED TO SCARE OFF A DOMESTICATED SEA GULL THAT KEPT WANTING TO MATE W/ME OR FIND A WAY TO GET THE TUNA SANDWICHES OUT FROM THE BACKBACK I’D STOWED. TRAVIS OFFERED TO RACE W/ME TO A BUOY NEAR SCIENCE WORLD. UNDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES, HE’D BE BEGGING ME TO GO IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. HE EVEN TALKED ABOUT US MAYBE GOING TO THE BOATHOUSE CABIN ON THE SUNSHINE COAST AGAIN THIS SUMMER. THAT HAD BEEN A WEEKEND FOR JUST TRAVIS & ME 4 YRS AGO. THOUGHT HE’D FORGOTTEN…OR AT LEAST WANTED TO FORGET.

HE HAD FUN LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT THE NO-SHOW CANUCKS WHO MAY AS WELL HAVE DEFAULTED LAST NITE’S GAME TO THE SHARKS. AFTER, HE ASKED TO USE MY ROOM TO CALL HIS MOM. THE CONVERSATION ONLY LASTED 5 MIN, BUT I’M GUESSING IT WAS 295 SECONDS LONGER THAN ANYTHING HE’D SAID TO HER IN THE PAST 3 MONTHS. WHEN HE HANDED OFF THE PHONE TO ME, SHE SAID, “GOOD GOD, WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE W/MY SON? WHERE’S THE SNARKY, INSUFFERABLE TEENAGER THAT I KNOW?”

“DO YOU REALLY WANT AN ANSWER?” AND SHE LAUGHED. SARA LAUGHED! SURE, HOCKEY WAS ON MY MIND, BUT I WAS BATTING 1.000!

THIS MORNING WE STOPPED BY THE VANCOUVER ROWING CLUB & SIGNED UP FOR THE TUES/THURS EVENING SWEEP PROGRAM FOR JUNE. TRAVIS SEEMS PSYCHED. HELL, I AM TOO!

Thursday, April 8, 2010

BULLIES & BONGS

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Explore your artistic or intellectual side today — you’ve got plenty of creative energy to spare! It’s one thing to make sure that you’re not just spinning your wheels, and another entirely to move forward quickly!

Laura’s Log:
Bullies don’t have a have a shelf life that expires with a high school diploma (or whatever dropping out docs they get). They go on to wreak havoc in workplaces, causing competent employees to seek employment elsewhere and/or take advantage of the company’s counseling program. The problem is that bullies have infiltrated too many offices. Can they be avoided?

I went from Ernesto to Derrick. Progress? No. Derrick. Interesting spelling. I like to think of it as a composite of two words: err and dick. Some names are the perfect fit.

You’re lucky if you have a coworker like Janice. I don’t even know her, but she stopped by work at 7:30 last night—forgot her tickets to blood.claat in her desk. “What are you still doing here?” she asked.

Caught me after one of my crying episodes. God knows how scary I must have looked with mascara creating a bad Goth look. “Just getting some work done.”

She dropped her purse on my desk. “You dated Derrick, didn’t you?”

With that, I opened the floodgates, words and tears gushing. “That was…before I started here….He seemed…nice…at first…sort of…I have to…finish this by…4:30…tomorrow…I’m going to get…fired….I’m still on…probation….I’m going…to get fired. I’m…going…to…get…fired.”

“Stupid shit!” Was that for me or for Derrick? “What’s the assignment?” I handed her the memo. After twenty seconds, she threw it on the ground and said, “Bullshit! It’s all bullshit! He’s working on a campaign for a home and garden show and for a cupcake chain. This is a fucking waste of company time!”

WTF? I knew the assignment was overbroad, but a complete make-work task?! Janice picked up the memo. “You go home. Now! I’m going to take this memo up with the partners tomorrow.”

“But—”

“Go! Your job is safe. Trust me. Just go!”

Once home, I managed to let Tupper out and then crashed. I vaguely recall a conversation with Gabriel, but I must have fallen asleep midway through the call. I awakened to find my cell by my feet under the covers this morning.

New day. Don’t know what’s going to happen at work. My horoscope says I’m supposed to be creative. Can’t imagine how. All I can think of is coping.


KEN’S JOURNAL:
WEIRD HAVING A KID AROUND 24/7. ESPECIALLY ONE WHO COMMUNICATES IN GRUNTS & GLARES. I DECIDED TO BE UNCONVENTIONAL & RENTED “EASY RIDER” LAST NITE. TRAVIS DIDN’T WANT TO WATCH, BUT AFTER ALL THE DRUG IMAGES IN THE 1ST 10 MIN, I HEARD HIM QUIETLY UTTER “COOL”.

YEAH, A BIG RISK. MAYBE MY DUMBEST MOVE EVER. MAYBE CONFIRMATION OF THE FACT THAT I SHOULD NEVER EVER HAVE KIDS. SHOWING A DRUG MOVIE TO A 13 YR OLD JUST GETTING INTO DRUGS? SARA COULD FORBID ME FROM EVER SEEING THE KIDS AGAIN.

BUT MIDWAY THRU, WHEN JACK NICHOLSON SAYS HE’S NEVER SMOKED A JOINT B/F—NO AMOUNT OF ACTING CHOPS MAKES THAT BELIEVABLE!—WE STARTED TALKING. I’VE NEVER UNDERSTOOD THE LOVE FOR “EASY RIDER”. MAYBE YOU HAVE TO BE HIGH WHILE YOU WATCH IT—LIKE A PINK FLOYD LASER SHOW. BUT THE SPARSE DIALOG GAVE US A CHANCE TO TALK. TRAVIS OPENED UP (AS MUCH AS A TEEN POTHEAD IS GONNA OPEN UP TO HIS UNCLE).

IT GOT AROUND TO MY ASKING, “WHY YOU DO IT?”

“I DUNNO. NOTHING ELSE TO DO.”

“ALL YOUR FRIENDS DO IT?”

“YEAH. I GUESS.”

“I GUESS? THAT MEANS SOME DON’T?”

“YEAH. I GUESS.”

OK, MAYBE THERE WAS A LOT OF EDITING TO DO TO GET TO THE MEAT OF THE CONVERSATION. BASICALLY, IT’S EASIER TO HANG OUT W/THE KIDS ON DOPE. THE ONLY THING YOU HAVE TO DO TO FIT IN IS JOIN IN. TRAVIS ADMITTED THAT MOST OF THE GUYS WERE LIKE THE DENNIS HOPPER CHARACTER: BASICALLY, BEAVIS OR BUTT-HEAD.

“ARE THEY FUN?” I ASKED.

“I DUNNO. I GUESS.” AND THEN, “MAYBE NOT.” IT WAS THE OPENING I HOPED FOR. WE GOT TO TALKING ABOUT WHAT’S FUN. HE REALLY COULDN’T COME UP W/ANYTHING. EVENTUALLY HE ADMITTED HE LIKED ROCK CLIMBING. THEN HE SAID, “ROWING WOULD BE COOL.”

ROWING?! WHERE’D THAT COME FROM? I GOT HIM TO AGREE TO GO KAYAKING W/ME TODAY OUT OF FALSE CREEK.

HAVE I GOT HIM OFF DRUGS? PROBABLY NOT. HAVE I MADE A NEW START IN CONNECTING W/TRAVIS?

I DUNNO. I GUESS.