February 23, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You need to discuss recent changes with colleagues or family members, so start early and make sure everyone is willing to face up to what needs to be said. You can get almost anything done if you're firm.
Laura’s Log:
As a temp, I don’t expect to be welcomed to the fold with a box of chocolates and an invitation to join the gang at their favorite lunch haunt. I don’t even expect people to get my name right. Laurie, Lisa, Rapunzel,…close enough. But what happened to “hello”, “please”, “thank you” and “Canada rocks”?
The auto shop is owned by two Russian brothers and at least half the staff is Russian as well. They’d been cordial enough on my first day of work, but things iced over overnight.
I’d thoroughly enjoyed Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir’s graceful, captivating, golden ice dance last night and didn’t think twice about putting on my Canadian Olympic pin this morning. Sergi, one of the brothers, spotted it as he poured his first of forty cups of coffee. He stared, looking aghast. Since I’d completely forgotten the pin, I thought, first, he was ogling by breasts and, second, they had suddenly gone frighteningly asymmetrical. Maybe one had popped out of my blouse!
“How can you dare come off as a proud Canadian?” he roared. “Figure skating has become a travesty!”
He couldn’t be serious. I assumed he was playfully stirring up a patriotic rivalry, if a little heavy on the histrionics. “Weren’t they beautiful last night?” I gushed. “And such the fairy tale couple—Canada’s sweethearts.”
“Sweethearts, my arse. Russia was robbed! First Plushenko, now this! The judging is rigged!”
Rich. A Russian whining about suspect judging in figure skating. I should have kept my mouth shut. Of course, I didn’t. “Are you kidding me?! Virtue and Moir were the best on the ice. The Russians were clunky and lucky to get the bronze. It wasn’t even close.”
He seethed. I sensed I was going to be fired for the second time in a month. But then he turned away with the precision of a trained army marcher. I worked the rest of the day without a single acknowledgment from any of my Russian coworkers. Who knew that the beautiful sport of ice dance could restart The Cold War?
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
THEY WERE FULL ICE CUBES, BUT HE CHOMPED ON THEM LIKE THEY WERE TINY SHARDS. SYMBOLIC. BASICALLY, I WAS THE ICE.
IT WLD BE FAIR TO SAY JERRY & I HAVE NEVER GOTTEN ALONG. I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT MY BIG SIS CLD DO BETTER. NOW SHE’S GOT 4 KIDS SHE’S RAISING ON HER OWN. THIS WASN’T MEANT TO BE A CASUAL LUNCH. HE LED OFF W/ “YOU GOT NO BUSINESS TRYING TO BE TRAVIS’ DAD” & THAT LEFT THINGS WIDE OPEN.
“YOU’VE GOT EVERY BUSINESS BEING HIS DAD,” I REPLIED. “BUT YOU DON’T STEP UP. I’M NOT GOING TO LET SARA STRUGGLE THRU PARENTING ALONE.”
“WELL, I’VE GOT MY—”
“WHAT? YOUR JOB? THAT’S NOT AN EXCUSE TO BE AN ABSENT FATHER. NO SENSE BRINGING IN ALL THAT MONEY IF THE KIDS DON’T TURN OUT RIGHT.”
HE STOOD UP AND GRABBED HIS SANDWICH. “THINK I’D RATHER FINISH THIS IN THE CAR.”
“YEP. YOU CAN DO THAT W/FOOD. GET IT ‘TO GO’. BUT YOU CAN’T DO THAT W/KIDS.”
NO DOUBT SARA WILL BLAST ME FOR STIRRING THINGS UP W/JERRY, BUT MR. TO-GO WILL BE ON A PLANE TOMORROW, IF NOT TONITE, & I’LL BE THE GO-TO PERSON ONCE AGAIN.
Showing posts with label Olympics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Olympics. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
BRING ON THE BREWSKIS
February 21, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): The morning should be relatively easy, without any big surprises. Things start to get more interesting this afternoon, but you should still find that it all seems to flow just about perfectly for you!
Laura’s Log:
Late start on the morning jog. Decided it would be safe to go back to the standard Kits route as, hopefully, Harvey will have given up stalking. Or, more likely, his old ankle injury flared up, putting the fitness gig to rest once more. As it’s a sunny Sunday morning, I knew it would be more crowded than usual but what surprised me was the fact that Olympic fever has spread to the paths. Three guys ran while sporting Canada flag capes. As they jogged in tandem, they chanted “CANADA! CANADA!” and others joined in. Battling for notoriety of its own, Norway was also represented by a single flag waver. Several people had the red maple leaf painted on their faces—a remnant from last night or a new part of the morning makeup routine? One guy even brought along his cowbell, clanging it as other joggers and I passed by. (I’m guessing he was one of the thousands turned away from attending events at Cypress. Apparently, the need to cheer cannot be suppressed. Have cowbell, will clang.)
I must admit that the extra energy along the route translated into my best run in ages. Glad I got the run in because I fear that the rest of the day is downhill, horoscope be damned. First, Tamara and I are meeting Nadia and obnoxious Bradley for brunch at Sophie’s Cosmic Cafe. Then, it’s the What the Hell Am I Doing date with Derrick. I'm thinking I'll need to down massive amounts of beer to survive. Whatever the hockey result, I’m just hoping it doesn’t go to a shootout.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
IT’S BAD WHEN I FIND MYSELF TAKING SOLACE IN CURLING. AFTER SPEED SKATING AND SKIING DISAPPOINTMENTS, I CHANNELED MY PATRIOTISM & SPORTS FANATICISM INTO CHEERING ON CANADA’S MEN’S MATCH VS. GREAT BRITAIN LAST NITE. SOMEONE SHOOT ME IF I EVER DECIDE TO SPEND A NITE ACTUALLY GOING TO A RINK TO PUSH & SWEEP A FREAKIN’ ROCK.
THANK GOD HOCKEY’S BACK ON THE SCHED FOR TODAY! SWORE I WLDN’T WASTE MY $$ ON THE MOLSON HOCKEY HOUSE, BUT MARTY GOT US TIX. WILL BE NICE TO EXPERIENCE THE WIN IN A PARTY ATMOSPHERE. THEN AGAIN, IF THE UNTHINKABLE HAPPENS, THERE’LL BE SOMETHING THERE TO WASH DOWN MY WOES. AIN’T BEER GREAT? IT’S GOOD WHEN YOU’RE UP, GOOD WHEN YOU’RE DOWN. THE ALL-PURPOSE BEVERAGE. YOU JUST CAN’T SAY THAT ABOUT MILK.
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): The morning should be relatively easy, without any big surprises. Things start to get more interesting this afternoon, but you should still find that it all seems to flow just about perfectly for you!
Laura’s Log:
Late start on the morning jog. Decided it would be safe to go back to the standard Kits route as, hopefully, Harvey will have given up stalking. Or, more likely, his old ankle injury flared up, putting the fitness gig to rest once more. As it’s a sunny Sunday morning, I knew it would be more crowded than usual but what surprised me was the fact that Olympic fever has spread to the paths. Three guys ran while sporting Canada flag capes. As they jogged in tandem, they chanted “CANADA! CANADA!” and others joined in. Battling for notoriety of its own, Norway was also represented by a single flag waver. Several people had the red maple leaf painted on their faces—a remnant from last night or a new part of the morning makeup routine? One guy even brought along his cowbell, clanging it as other joggers and I passed by. (I’m guessing he was one of the thousands turned away from attending events at Cypress. Apparently, the need to cheer cannot be suppressed. Have cowbell, will clang.)
I must admit that the extra energy along the route translated into my best run in ages. Glad I got the run in because I fear that the rest of the day is downhill, horoscope be damned. First, Tamara and I are meeting Nadia and obnoxious Bradley for brunch at Sophie’s Cosmic Cafe. Then, it’s the What the Hell Am I Doing date with Derrick. I'm thinking I'll need to down massive amounts of beer to survive. Whatever the hockey result, I’m just hoping it doesn’t go to a shootout.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
IT’S BAD WHEN I FIND MYSELF TAKING SOLACE IN CURLING. AFTER SPEED SKATING AND SKIING DISAPPOINTMENTS, I CHANNELED MY PATRIOTISM & SPORTS FANATICISM INTO CHEERING ON CANADA’S MEN’S MATCH VS. GREAT BRITAIN LAST NITE. SOMEONE SHOOT ME IF I EVER DECIDE TO SPEND A NITE ACTUALLY GOING TO A RINK TO PUSH & SWEEP A FREAKIN’ ROCK.
THANK GOD HOCKEY’S BACK ON THE SCHED FOR TODAY! SWORE I WLDN’T WASTE MY $$ ON THE MOLSON HOCKEY HOUSE, BUT MARTY GOT US TIX. WILL BE NICE TO EXPERIENCE THE WIN IN A PARTY ATMOSPHERE. THEN AGAIN, IF THE UNTHINKABLE HAPPENS, THERE’LL BE SOMETHING THERE TO WASH DOWN MY WOES. AIN’T BEER GREAT? IT’S GOOD WHEN YOU’RE UP, GOOD WHEN YOU’RE DOWN. THE ALL-PURPOSE BEVERAGE. YOU JUST CAN’T SAY THAT ABOUT MILK.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
NURSING WOUNDS
February 9, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Revisit an old injury today -- emotional or physical. You should find yourself better equipped to handle it, and even to heal it, but you may find that you have to move through some difficult territory first.
Laura’s Log:
Coffee with Tamara this morning. I hopped on the Canada Line and met her downtown as she took an extended coffee break. Who knows what important meetings she rescheduled? When you’re newly dating, you’re dying to know what your friends think.
“He’s really nice.”
Apparently, I shouldn’t have said that. It was just my opener, but Tamara pounced. You’d think I’d said he was a cross between Donald Trump (without the money) and a pile of horse manure.
“See, that’s why I put off having you meet him. You always look for the worst.” Ouch. “No wonder you’re single.” Owphh. “I don’t know why I’ve kept you as a friend all these years. Pity, I guess.” And TKO.
“I said he was nice.”
She started to cry. Wail, actually. Tamara always likes to be noticed. The woman beside us took her mug to the counter and asked for a to-go cup. Wish I’d had that option.
I sat and waited. Sipped my coffee. The dash of cinnamon added flavor. Got up and grabbed a wad of napkins. Tamara wound down to sobbing and I gently eased back into the conversation. “What’s going on?”
“He wants to take a job in Edmonton. Edmonton!” Poor city. She said it like it was a cross between Chernobyl and, well, a pile of horse manure.
“Does he want you to move with him?”
“He hasn’t even asked!” And Round 2 of wailing.
I managed to convince her we should step outside, walk a little and enjoy the beautiful day. The lady behind the counter telepathed an earnest “Thank you.” After another hour of weeping, recovering and weeping again, Tamara hugged me. “Sorry ’bout what I said. You’re a good friend. The best.”
Yeah. After all these years, I was quite familiar with Tamara’s lash-and-burn tactics. They still wounded, but the recovery was quicker.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
MAYBE I’M NOT CUT OUT TO JOG ANYMORE. I HAD MY 2ND GO AT AN EARLY MORNING RUN & IT WAS WORSE THAN THE 1ST. COLDER, TO START WITH. HAD IT IN MY HEAD THAT WEARING GLOVES WHILE JOGGING WAS THE SIGN OF A WUSS. LOSING THREE DIGITS TO FROSTBITE MIGHT MAKE A MANLY TALE, BUT IT’S DAMN STUPID, TOO. WILL TRY TO PICK UP A PAIR LATER TODAY—AND NOT THE OMNIPRESENT CANADIAN OLYMPIC MITTS.
CONSTANTLY RUBBING ONE’S HANDS TOGETHER ISN’T STANDARD RUNNING FORM. NEITHER IS LIMPING. SADLY, MY LEFT KNEE GAVE OUT SOONER THAN LAST WEEK. I HAD TO HOBBLE BACK FROM SCIENCE WORLD—OR WHATEVER THE RUSSIANS ARE CALLING IT AS THEIR OLYMPIC SITE. SAW THE GUY IN THE WALKER AGAIN. NEVER MANAGED TO CATCH HIM.
FIGURE I’VE GAINED INSTEAD OF LOSING THIS WEEK, THANKS TO THE SUPER BOWL PARTY. SURE, I VOMITED APLENTY, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE I’M REACHING THE 7TH OR 8TH MONTH OF PREGNANCY. IF I CAN’T RUN, THEN WHAT? DON’T THINK I CAN ROUND UP THE OLD GANG FOR TOUCH FOOTBALL THESE DAYS. BIKING? THE COLD’S GOTTA FEEL EVEN WORSE ON WHEELS.
I’LL TRY STRETCHING MORE. HOT TUB THE KNEE TONIGHT. BUY A BRACE. EVEN IN PAIN, JOGGING BEATS SLAPPING ON A PAIR OF RUNNERS AND RACE-WALKING AROUND DOWNTOWN AT NOON WHILE IN A BUSINESS SUIT.
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Revisit an old injury today -- emotional or physical. You should find yourself better equipped to handle it, and even to heal it, but you may find that you have to move through some difficult territory first.
Laura’s Log:
Coffee with Tamara this morning. I hopped on the Canada Line and met her downtown as she took an extended coffee break. Who knows what important meetings she rescheduled? When you’re newly dating, you’re dying to know what your friends think.
“He’s really nice.”
Apparently, I shouldn’t have said that. It was just my opener, but Tamara pounced. You’d think I’d said he was a cross between Donald Trump (without the money) and a pile of horse manure.
“See, that’s why I put off having you meet him. You always look for the worst.” Ouch. “No wonder you’re single.” Owphh. “I don’t know why I’ve kept you as a friend all these years. Pity, I guess.” And TKO.
“I said he was nice.”
She started to cry. Wail, actually. Tamara always likes to be noticed. The woman beside us took her mug to the counter and asked for a to-go cup. Wish I’d had that option.
I sat and waited. Sipped my coffee. The dash of cinnamon added flavor. Got up and grabbed a wad of napkins. Tamara wound down to sobbing and I gently eased back into the conversation. “What’s going on?”
“He wants to take a job in Edmonton. Edmonton!” Poor city. She said it like it was a cross between Chernobyl and, well, a pile of horse manure.
“Does he want you to move with him?”
“He hasn’t even asked!” And Round 2 of wailing.
I managed to convince her we should step outside, walk a little and enjoy the beautiful day. The lady behind the counter telepathed an earnest “Thank you.” After another hour of weeping, recovering and weeping again, Tamara hugged me. “Sorry ’bout what I said. You’re a good friend. The best.”
Yeah. After all these years, I was quite familiar with Tamara’s lash-and-burn tactics. They still wounded, but the recovery was quicker.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
MAYBE I’M NOT CUT OUT TO JOG ANYMORE. I HAD MY 2ND GO AT AN EARLY MORNING RUN & IT WAS WORSE THAN THE 1ST. COLDER, TO START WITH. HAD IT IN MY HEAD THAT WEARING GLOVES WHILE JOGGING WAS THE SIGN OF A WUSS. LOSING THREE DIGITS TO FROSTBITE MIGHT MAKE A MANLY TALE, BUT IT’S DAMN STUPID, TOO. WILL TRY TO PICK UP A PAIR LATER TODAY—AND NOT THE OMNIPRESENT CANADIAN OLYMPIC MITTS.
CONSTANTLY RUBBING ONE’S HANDS TOGETHER ISN’T STANDARD RUNNING FORM. NEITHER IS LIMPING. SADLY, MY LEFT KNEE GAVE OUT SOONER THAN LAST WEEK. I HAD TO HOBBLE BACK FROM SCIENCE WORLD—OR WHATEVER THE RUSSIANS ARE CALLING IT AS THEIR OLYMPIC SITE. SAW THE GUY IN THE WALKER AGAIN. NEVER MANAGED TO CATCH HIM.
FIGURE I’VE GAINED INSTEAD OF LOSING THIS WEEK, THANKS TO THE SUPER BOWL PARTY. SURE, I VOMITED APLENTY, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE I’M REACHING THE 7TH OR 8TH MONTH OF PREGNANCY. IF I CAN’T RUN, THEN WHAT? DON’T THINK I CAN ROUND UP THE OLD GANG FOR TOUCH FOOTBALL THESE DAYS. BIKING? THE COLD’S GOTTA FEEL EVEN WORSE ON WHEELS.
I’LL TRY STRETCHING MORE. HOT TUB THE KNEE TONIGHT. BUY A BRACE. EVEN IN PAIN, JOGGING BEATS SLAPPING ON A PAIR OF RUNNERS AND RACE-WALKING AROUND DOWNTOWN AT NOON WHILE IN A BUSINESS SUIT.
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