LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You're a little moony over something or someone from long ago, but it's interfering with your life in the here and now. It's a good time to walk away from the past, or part of it, for good.
Laura’s Log:
Totally don’t get today’s horoscope. True, I’m absolutely over the moon over long pined, but previously unattainable Gabriel and last night’s date was…magical. Walk away?! Are you insane?!
Had to catch “An Education” at 6:45 as it’s near the end of its run and wasn’t showing later. Good flick. Wish it had more action sequences with loud sound effects near the end to cover up my growling stomach. Gabriel noticed and chuckled. I half expected the other seven people in the theatre to yell “Shh!” at me from ten rows back.
“Should’ve had popcorn,” Gabriel kidded as we finally exited. I’m not diet obsessed but everyone knows movie popcorn (which MUST be soaked in butter syrup) has deleterious effects not found in Orville Redenbacher’s SmartPop! brand. Didn’t want to start the preggers bump before dinner.
Worth the wait. Gabriel. Dinner. The long goodnight.
Okay, main course before dessert. I don’t know why I don’t go to Bin 941 more often. The wild coho salmon was exquisite (a million steps up from movie popcorn!), especially with the to-die-for Indian curry potato cake. We shared a subtly flavored bottle of cabernet and I was feeling a little tipsy as Gabriel walked me back to my car.
“I can’t drive,” I confessed.
I knew things were going well—not just in my head, but in his too—when he flashed a mischievous grin and replied, “Well, then you’ll just have to come up to my place for awhile.”
Oh, my god! We kissed on the street, me leaning against my car as pedestrians passed by. I’m not much for scandalous public displays of affection—at least not when they don’t involve me. Have to admit the spectators only made things more exciting. After four years of lusting over him, I didn’t hold back. I groped him on the elevator ride up and, well, the elevator wasn’t the only thing going up.
How long had it been since I last had sex? I can admit it now. April…2008. Thank god I broke the looming two-year marker. Smashed it actually.
Another date with Gabriel? He already called at 7:30 this morning. Dinner again tonight. Is it too much too fast?
Let me repeat: April, 2008.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via iPhone):
IT’S A DONE DEAL. MARTY’S GOT THE CONDO LISTING & EVERYTHING SHLD BE UP ON MLS BY TOMORROW. OPEN HOUSE SAT. HE FIGURES I MIGHT BE ABLE TO GET COMPLETION BY MAY 1.
OF COURSE, THAT PUTS ME IN A PANIC. WHERE TO NEXT? FRANKLY, I LIKE YALETOWN. DO I NEED TO LOOK ELSEWHERE TO COMPLETELY WASH AWAY EVERYTHING CLARA? HELL, I’D HAVE TO BE LOOKING IN ICELAND (& THINGS AIN’T LOOKING SO HOT THERE @ THE MOMENT). ALWAYS WANTED TO LIVE IN A LOFT. MAYBE THERE’S SOMETHING IN GASTOWN OR OFF MAIN.
THE TIME IS NOW TO CONSIDER NEW POSSIBILITIES.
P.S.—SHOUT OUT TO MIKAEL SAMUELSSON! HAT TRICK, BABY! HOW MANY TIMES CAN CANUCKS KEEP COMING BACK?!
Showing posts with label first date. Show all posts
Showing posts with label first date. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
DATING DON'TS
February 17, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You shouldn't limit yourself socially today -- make sure that everyone gets a little piece of you! If that makes anyone jealous or anxious, you should just reassure them and then move on.
Laura’s Log:
The All About Derrick Show lasted two and a half hours last night. Over a long wait and slow service at Earl’s, the guy went on ad nauseam about all the “incompetents” he is forced to deal with on a daily basis at work, both clients and coworkers. I didn’t dare ask if he put Tamara in that category; nonetheless, I got the feeling he viewed everybody the same. Then he must have yammered for twenty minutes about the “nitwits” and “lunatics” he must listen to as head of his building’s strata council. I politely sipped my ice water—What the hell was taking so long with my pinot gris?!—and wondered if he’d ever get around to asking anything about me. Closest he ever got was the throwaway “Don’t you agree?” that he’d toss out every so often, cutting me off if I thought of going beyond the requisite, concise “Yes.”
He offered to walk me home and suggested that I invite him up for “coffee”. I politely responded that I could find my way home on my own, thank you very much. He looked stunned to be brushed off. I’m sure it bothered him for as long as it took him to fling me atop his growing pile of Disaster Dates, all on account of a glut of bland bitches populating Vancouver. No doubt, Derrick had never learned to be self-reflective.
Mom wants me to come by, ostensibly to help her pick an online gift for Gretel’s upcoming birthday, but really as an opportunity to whine about Lucy who apparently has now changed her protest tactics and is temporarily (?) living in a red tent on Hastings. Worse, Mom mentioned that she heard from Mavis Benson who heard from Trina Chu who got it from Harvey’s mother that Harvey and I ran into each other while running last week. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” Mom screeched on the phone. That damn file folder entitled “Laura’s Wedding” will be resting prominently on the kitchen table once again. I am prepared though. I’ll quickly pick out an adorable trinket for Gretel—anything in pink suits her fine—and excuse myself to meet up with Tamara who is dying to hear me go on at length over how awful the date with Derrick was. She’s still in pain over the breakup with Andy. My misery will be just the thing to cheer her up.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via iPhone):
IF THERE WERE AN EVENT @ THE OLYMPICS CALLED SPEED DATING, SHORT COURSE, I’D HAVE OWNED THE PODIUM…WITH A WORLD RECORD TO BOOT. I HAD THE WRONG START TIME FOR THE HOCKEY GAME SO I MANAGED TO CATCH ENOUGH TO SEE CANADA WAS GOING TO SKATE BY NORWAY B/F HEADING OUT FOR MY DATE W/RACHEL. AS WE STOOD IN LINE TO ORDER, I MENTIONED THE GAME AND RACHEL LIT IN ABOUT THE OLYMPICS BEING A CORPORATE PARTY & THE MONEY BEING BETTER SPENT ON THE HOMELESS.
“YOU DO REALIZE IT’S NEVER BEEN AN EITHER OR SITUATION,” I SAID. “I MEAN, DO YOU REALLY THINK THE POLITICIANS WLD HAVE SAID, ‘SINCE WE’RE PASSING ON THE OLYMPICS, LET’S USE ALL THAT MONEY TO DEAL W/HOMELESSNESS’? THAT’S SIMPLISTIC & NAÏVE.”
AND W/THAT, SHE SHOOK MY HAND, OFFERED A CURT “NICE TO MEET YOU” & MARCHED OUT OF THE CAFÉ. BY THE TIME I HAD MY COFFEE, I WAS WONDERING WHAT JUST HAPPENED? BUT WALKING HOME I REALIZED IT WAS A MERCIFULLY QUICK END TO WHAT WLD HAVE BEEN AN EXCRUCIATING DATE FOR BOTH OF US. I DON’T KNOW HOW I WLD HAVE HANDLED MYSELF ONCE SHE GOT AROUND TO BLASTING OVERPAID PRO HOCKEY PLAYERS FOR BEING IN THE GAMES. SO, LIKE LUONGO, I ENDED THE EVENING W/A SHUTOUT. I THINK HIS MUST FEEL A WHOLE LOT BETTER.
I’VE ALREADY MOVED ON, SENDING MSGES TO TWO MORE WOMEN ONLINE. ONE SPECIFICALLY LISTED “CANUCKS” AS AN INTEREST. WE’LL SEE WHAT HAPPENS. CAN’T GET ANY WORSE.
CAN IT?
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You shouldn't limit yourself socially today -- make sure that everyone gets a little piece of you! If that makes anyone jealous or anxious, you should just reassure them and then move on.
Laura’s Log:
The All About Derrick Show lasted two and a half hours last night. Over a long wait and slow service at Earl’s, the guy went on ad nauseam about all the “incompetents” he is forced to deal with on a daily basis at work, both clients and coworkers. I didn’t dare ask if he put Tamara in that category; nonetheless, I got the feeling he viewed everybody the same. Then he must have yammered for twenty minutes about the “nitwits” and “lunatics” he must listen to as head of his building’s strata council. I politely sipped my ice water—What the hell was taking so long with my pinot gris?!—and wondered if he’d ever get around to asking anything about me. Closest he ever got was the throwaway “Don’t you agree?” that he’d toss out every so often, cutting me off if I thought of going beyond the requisite, concise “Yes.”
He offered to walk me home and suggested that I invite him up for “coffee”. I politely responded that I could find my way home on my own, thank you very much. He looked stunned to be brushed off. I’m sure it bothered him for as long as it took him to fling me atop his growing pile of Disaster Dates, all on account of a glut of bland bitches populating Vancouver. No doubt, Derrick had never learned to be self-reflective.
Mom wants me to come by, ostensibly to help her pick an online gift for Gretel’s upcoming birthday, but really as an opportunity to whine about Lucy who apparently has now changed her protest tactics and is temporarily (?) living in a red tent on Hastings. Worse, Mom mentioned that she heard from Mavis Benson who heard from Trina Chu who got it from Harvey’s mother that Harvey and I ran into each other while running last week. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” Mom screeched on the phone. That damn file folder entitled “Laura’s Wedding” will be resting prominently on the kitchen table once again. I am prepared though. I’ll quickly pick out an adorable trinket for Gretel—anything in pink suits her fine—and excuse myself to meet up with Tamara who is dying to hear me go on at length over how awful the date with Derrick was. She’s still in pain over the breakup with Andy. My misery will be just the thing to cheer her up.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via iPhone):
IF THERE WERE AN EVENT @ THE OLYMPICS CALLED SPEED DATING, SHORT COURSE, I’D HAVE OWNED THE PODIUM…WITH A WORLD RECORD TO BOOT. I HAD THE WRONG START TIME FOR THE HOCKEY GAME SO I MANAGED TO CATCH ENOUGH TO SEE CANADA WAS GOING TO SKATE BY NORWAY B/F HEADING OUT FOR MY DATE W/RACHEL. AS WE STOOD IN LINE TO ORDER, I MENTIONED THE GAME AND RACHEL LIT IN ABOUT THE OLYMPICS BEING A CORPORATE PARTY & THE MONEY BEING BETTER SPENT ON THE HOMELESS.
“YOU DO REALIZE IT’S NEVER BEEN AN EITHER OR SITUATION,” I SAID. “I MEAN, DO YOU REALLY THINK THE POLITICIANS WLD HAVE SAID, ‘SINCE WE’RE PASSING ON THE OLYMPICS, LET’S USE ALL THAT MONEY TO DEAL W/HOMELESSNESS’? THAT’S SIMPLISTIC & NAÏVE.”
AND W/THAT, SHE SHOOK MY HAND, OFFERED A CURT “NICE TO MEET YOU” & MARCHED OUT OF THE CAFÉ. BY THE TIME I HAD MY COFFEE, I WAS WONDERING WHAT JUST HAPPENED? BUT WALKING HOME I REALIZED IT WAS A MERCIFULLY QUICK END TO WHAT WLD HAVE BEEN AN EXCRUCIATING DATE FOR BOTH OF US. I DON’T KNOW HOW I WLD HAVE HANDLED MYSELF ONCE SHE GOT AROUND TO BLASTING OVERPAID PRO HOCKEY PLAYERS FOR BEING IN THE GAMES. SO, LIKE LUONGO, I ENDED THE EVENING W/A SHUTOUT. I THINK HIS MUST FEEL A WHOLE LOT BETTER.
I’VE ALREADY MOVED ON, SENDING MSGES TO TWO MORE WOMEN ONLINE. ONE SPECIFICALLY LISTED “CANUCKS” AS AN INTEREST. WE’LL SEE WHAT HAPPENS. CAN’T GET ANY WORSE.
CAN IT?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
JOGGING…OR DOG PADDLING?
February 16, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Progress is relative sometimes, and you need to remind yourself of that today. It could be that though you're not moving forward, you are keeping yourself from moving backward, and that may be a win!
Laura’s Log:
I have an appointment at a temp agency this morning. Can’t believe that my degree from UBC is going to be wasted answering phones and making coffee, but I have to slow the bleeding in my bank account. I can hear mom’s grating voice in my head haunting me: “Film studies?! What kind of job can you get with a degree in film studies?” At least I can be a very well informed date at the movies.
Still drying out after an insane jog in the rain. I would’ve skipped it, but since I’m seeing Derrick tonight, I need to work off last night’s Why Bother low fat tiramisu. Without the brandy, the thing would have been inedible. (I think Julia Child had it right. When in doubt, add generous amounts of booze.)
Pairs skating proved a disappointment. Only saw one couple skate without errors. I don’t know how proud I’d be having the world watch me fall on my ass. Hope the men’s event is better. Marella called yesterday to ask me to accompany her to the men’s final on Thursday. Apparently her latest boinker doesn’t think figure skating is macho enough. Can’t he look past the makeup, the glittery unitards and toy soldier costumes? My gain.
Must stretch my fingers before heading out. I think I have to take a typing test. Feels like I’m time traveling into the world of “Mad Men”.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
ALWAYS THOUGHT RUNNERS HAD A FEW SCREWS LOOSE. TODAY PROVES THEY’RE BEYOND HELP. UTTER MASOCHISTS! RAIN WAS POURING DOWN AT 6 A.M. ONLY TONITE’S DATE POSSESSED ME TO GET OUT THERE AND JOG. TO MY AMAZEMENT, THERE WERE JUST AS MANY IDIOTS OUT THERE RUNNING AS USUAL. DOES EVERYONE HAVE A 1ST DATE TONITE?
MY SHOES & CLOTHES ARE BANGING AROUND IN THE DRYER. CLD TAKE HRS FOR THEM TO DRY OUT. NOT SURE IF MY RUNNERS WILL EVER GO BACK TO THEIR ORIGINAL FORM. THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT THE RUN WAS MY KNEE DIDN’T BUG ME A BIT. MY BRAIN WAS TOO FOCUSED ON DODGING PUDDLES & WORRYING THAT I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT A SNORKEL & MASK.
SHOULD BE LOOKING FORWARD TO MY DATE. RACHEL POSTED MORE THAN 1 PHOTO & SHE LOOKS HOT IN ALL OF THEM. BEYOND THAT, WHO KNOWS? THAT’S WHY I PREFER TO MEET INSTEAD OF MESSAGING BACK & FORTH FOR WEEKS. STILL, WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING AGREEING TO COFFEE @ 7?! TEAM CANADA HOCKEY GOES @ 8. IF THE MTG IS A DISASTER, I’LL MAKE IT HOME IN PLENTY OF TIME. WLD IT BE A BAD START IF I ORDER MY ESPRESSO IN A TO GO CUP?
WHAT AM I THINKING?! I’VE GOT A FREAKIN’ DATE. MIRACLE! I JOGGED IN A DELUGE. GOTTA GIVE THE DATE A REAL CHANCE. STILL, THE MOMENT THERE’S A LULL IN CONVERSATION, I’M OUTTA THERE.
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Progress is relative sometimes, and you need to remind yourself of that today. It could be that though you're not moving forward, you are keeping yourself from moving backward, and that may be a win!
Laura’s Log:
I have an appointment at a temp agency this morning. Can’t believe that my degree from UBC is going to be wasted answering phones and making coffee, but I have to slow the bleeding in my bank account. I can hear mom’s grating voice in my head haunting me: “Film studies?! What kind of job can you get with a degree in film studies?” At least I can be a very well informed date at the movies.
Still drying out after an insane jog in the rain. I would’ve skipped it, but since I’m seeing Derrick tonight, I need to work off last night’s Why Bother low fat tiramisu. Without the brandy, the thing would have been inedible. (I think Julia Child had it right. When in doubt, add generous amounts of booze.)
Pairs skating proved a disappointment. Only saw one couple skate without errors. I don’t know how proud I’d be having the world watch me fall on my ass. Hope the men’s event is better. Marella called yesterday to ask me to accompany her to the men’s final on Thursday. Apparently her latest boinker doesn’t think figure skating is macho enough. Can’t he look past the makeup, the glittery unitards and toy soldier costumes? My gain.
Must stretch my fingers before heading out. I think I have to take a typing test. Feels like I’m time traveling into the world of “Mad Men”.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
ALWAYS THOUGHT RUNNERS HAD A FEW SCREWS LOOSE. TODAY PROVES THEY’RE BEYOND HELP. UTTER MASOCHISTS! RAIN WAS POURING DOWN AT 6 A.M. ONLY TONITE’S DATE POSSESSED ME TO GET OUT THERE AND JOG. TO MY AMAZEMENT, THERE WERE JUST AS MANY IDIOTS OUT THERE RUNNING AS USUAL. DOES EVERYONE HAVE A 1ST DATE TONITE?
MY SHOES & CLOTHES ARE BANGING AROUND IN THE DRYER. CLD TAKE HRS FOR THEM TO DRY OUT. NOT SURE IF MY RUNNERS WILL EVER GO BACK TO THEIR ORIGINAL FORM. THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT THE RUN WAS MY KNEE DIDN’T BUG ME A BIT. MY BRAIN WAS TOO FOCUSED ON DODGING PUDDLES & WORRYING THAT I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT A SNORKEL & MASK.
SHOULD BE LOOKING FORWARD TO MY DATE. RACHEL POSTED MORE THAN 1 PHOTO & SHE LOOKS HOT IN ALL OF THEM. BEYOND THAT, WHO KNOWS? THAT’S WHY I PREFER TO MEET INSTEAD OF MESSAGING BACK & FORTH FOR WEEKS. STILL, WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING AGREEING TO COFFEE @ 7?! TEAM CANADA HOCKEY GOES @ 8. IF THE MTG IS A DISASTER, I’LL MAKE IT HOME IN PLENTY OF TIME. WLD IT BE A BAD START IF I ORDER MY ESPRESSO IN A TO GO CUP?
WHAT AM I THINKING?! I’VE GOT A FREAKIN’ DATE. MIRACLE! I JOGGED IN A DELUGE. GOTTA GIVE THE DATE A REAL CHANCE. STILL, THE MOMENT THERE’S A LULL IN CONVERSATION, I’M OUTTA THERE.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
SIPPING DANDELION TEA, DIANA ROSS SINGING IN MY HEAD
February 4, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You should attract attention this morning -- but not in an embarrassing way. After the praise-fest is over, you almost certainly turn inward a bit and need to pursue somewhat selfish goals.
Laura’s Log:
Oh, how I love my horoscope! It really must know me. I’ll attract attention, but for once, it won’t be embarrassing in nature. So glad for the clarification. Perhaps I can get through the morning without blueberries stuck between my teeth or toilet paper clinging to my shoe. I feel I can face anything! Even The Drama that Is Jenny.
The weird thing is I’m in a place where attention of any kind really doesn’t matter. Jenny called me out of the blue after I’d had coffee with Estelle yesterday. She’s been in Roberts Creek for eight months and it seems like she moved to Jupiter. Never made it over there last summer and we hadn’t talked since October. I could tell Jenny was feeling down so when she invited me to catch the next ferry over, well, why not?
Tupper is in his glory taking in the new scents. When she picked us up at the terminal, she immediately took us to a beach in Gibsons where Tupper could run around and piddle on logs without other dogs out-marking him seconds later. For the most part, we had the entire expanse to ourselves. Two minutes into our walk, Jenny blurted, “I’m pregnant.” No exclamation mark.
“That’s great!” I said, trying to be cheery. “How’s Gus feel about it?”
“Gus left me three and a half months ago. It’s not his.”
“What?!” I didn’t want to throw in an exclamation mark there, but this was as shocking as things get. I met Jenny and Gus during my last two years at UBC. Harvey hated them. So earthy. Dreadlocks, tie-dye, incense,…everything Harvey and I weren’t. Still, I loved our regular meal gatherings at The Naam, in part to see Harvey squirm: no ties, people reading The Guardian instead of The Wall Street Journal and not a Hilfiger item of clothing in the entire restaurant.
Jenny and Gus were my rock, the standard for an ideal relationship. They were two souls completely intertwined, the poster couple for a good marriage even though they chose to live common law. What had the Sunshine Coast done to them?
Jenny appeared to read my mind, quite possibly a power she’d gained from drinking dandelion tea. “I met a folk singer. Gabriel.” She almost swooned. Was that the morning sickness or love? “At first, Gus and I welcomed him into our union, but then Gus kinda felt awkward.” Make that two. “He just walked away in late October and now he’s in Toronto, studying for his real estate license and going into business with his brother. Can you believe he’s stooped to selling land?”
There were things I couldn’t believe, but Gus’ new career path was far down the list. I didn’t know what to say, but she kept searching my face for a thought or, more likely being as it was Jenny, a feeling. “So,…you’re pregnant.” She nodded. And then I said that thing that all people say, even though I’d never ever actually seen it in anyone: “You glow.”
“Thanks!” Exclamation at last. And, of course, one of Jenny’s all-encompassing Mother Earth hugs. In that moment, I realized something else had changed. She’d given up on deodorant.
As Gabriel had a gig on Vancouver Island, Jenny and I had the rental cottage to ourselves. Well, Jenny, Tupper, the chickens, two geese, some heard-but-not-seen rats and I. We chatted long into the night, drinking an endless supply of natural teas, each of us dashing to the outhouse—yes, outhouse!—at regular intervals.
Around noon today, the Olympic torch is coming through. I’d thought Jenny would be just as anti-Olympics as Lucy, but no, she’s all for it. She’s even knitted a series of scarves and toques with the maple leaf on them. Jenny, profiting from the Olympics. Jenny, making a go of a three-way love fest. Jenny without Gus. Jenny pregnant. My head was spinning. She hadn’t spiked the tea, had she?
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
MET W/THE BOSS 1ST THING THIS A.M. HE HAS A REAL (NORMAL) NAME, BUT INSISTS WE CALL HIM “THE BOSS”. GUESS SOMEONE MUST’VE DARED TO TELL HIM KING WAS TOO OSTENTATIOUS. I ACTUALLY LIKE CALLING HIM THE BOSS B/C IT AMUSES ME. MAYBE I’M SUPPOSED TO CONJURE UP SPRINGSTEEN, BUT I PICTURE DIANA ROSS IN HER DISCO PHASE INSTEAD.
BIG MTG THIS P.M. WITH GENERAL CONTRACTORS, ARCHITECTS AND SUCH TO MAP OUT A TIMELINE FOR THE BURNABY DEVELOPMENT. EVERYTHING’S A GO AND THE BOSS WAS HEAPING PRAISE ON ME DURING OUR MORNING MTG. HE’S POURING IT ON NOW B/C HE’LL KEEP THE SPOTLIGHT ON HIMSELF WHEN EVERYONE ELSE CONVENES. (THEY, OF COURSE, GET TO CALL HIM DAVE. AS LONG AS THEY DON’T LOOK HIM DIRECTLY IN THE EYE.) I’M SUPPOSED TO BE SATISFIED THAT HE ACKNOWLEDGES MY CONTRIBUTION IN ANY CAPACITY. BUT I’M NOT HERE FOR LONG. CAN’T BELIEVE HE DIDN’T BACK UP THE PRAISE W/A RAISE. JACKY, LUKE, WENDY & I NEED TO MEET AGAIN TO PLAN OUR NEW VENTURE. MY DAYS OF BEING IN THE SHADOW OF THE BOSS ARE NUMBERED. ANOTHER DIANA ROSS SONG COMES TO MIND: “IT’S MY TURN”. (NOTE TO SELF: ASK THERAPIST IF MY KNOWLEDGE OF DIANA ROSS WARRANTS ANALYSIS.)
BIG DATE TONITE. DECIDED ON BISHOP’S SINCE MARIBETH LIVES IN KITS. I’M THINKING THIS CLD BE THE START OF SOMETHING AMAZING. CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE CLARA IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR.
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You should attract attention this morning -- but not in an embarrassing way. After the praise-fest is over, you almost certainly turn inward a bit and need to pursue somewhat selfish goals.
Laura’s Log:
Oh, how I love my horoscope! It really must know me. I’ll attract attention, but for once, it won’t be embarrassing in nature. So glad for the clarification. Perhaps I can get through the morning without blueberries stuck between my teeth or toilet paper clinging to my shoe. I feel I can face anything! Even The Drama that Is Jenny.
The weird thing is I’m in a place where attention of any kind really doesn’t matter. Jenny called me out of the blue after I’d had coffee with Estelle yesterday. She’s been in Roberts Creek for eight months and it seems like she moved to Jupiter. Never made it over there last summer and we hadn’t talked since October. I could tell Jenny was feeling down so when she invited me to catch the next ferry over, well, why not?
Tupper is in his glory taking in the new scents. When she picked us up at the terminal, she immediately took us to a beach in Gibsons where Tupper could run around and piddle on logs without other dogs out-marking him seconds later. For the most part, we had the entire expanse to ourselves. Two minutes into our walk, Jenny blurted, “I’m pregnant.” No exclamation mark.
“That’s great!” I said, trying to be cheery. “How’s Gus feel about it?”
“Gus left me three and a half months ago. It’s not his.”
“What?!” I didn’t want to throw in an exclamation mark there, but this was as shocking as things get. I met Jenny and Gus during my last two years at UBC. Harvey hated them. So earthy. Dreadlocks, tie-dye, incense,…everything Harvey and I weren’t. Still, I loved our regular meal gatherings at The Naam, in part to see Harvey squirm: no ties, people reading The Guardian instead of The Wall Street Journal and not a Hilfiger item of clothing in the entire restaurant.
Jenny and Gus were my rock, the standard for an ideal relationship. They were two souls completely intertwined, the poster couple for a good marriage even though they chose to live common law. What had the Sunshine Coast done to them?
Jenny appeared to read my mind, quite possibly a power she’d gained from drinking dandelion tea. “I met a folk singer. Gabriel.” She almost swooned. Was that the morning sickness or love? “At first, Gus and I welcomed him into our union, but then Gus kinda felt awkward.” Make that two. “He just walked away in late October and now he’s in Toronto, studying for his real estate license and going into business with his brother. Can you believe he’s stooped to selling land?”
There were things I couldn’t believe, but Gus’ new career path was far down the list. I didn’t know what to say, but she kept searching my face for a thought or, more likely being as it was Jenny, a feeling. “So,…you’re pregnant.” She nodded. And then I said that thing that all people say, even though I’d never ever actually seen it in anyone: “You glow.”
“Thanks!” Exclamation at last. And, of course, one of Jenny’s all-encompassing Mother Earth hugs. In that moment, I realized something else had changed. She’d given up on deodorant.
As Gabriel had a gig on Vancouver Island, Jenny and I had the rental cottage to ourselves. Well, Jenny, Tupper, the chickens, two geese, some heard-but-not-seen rats and I. We chatted long into the night, drinking an endless supply of natural teas, each of us dashing to the outhouse—yes, outhouse!—at regular intervals.
Around noon today, the Olympic torch is coming through. I’d thought Jenny would be just as anti-Olympics as Lucy, but no, she’s all for it. She’s even knitted a series of scarves and toques with the maple leaf on them. Jenny, profiting from the Olympics. Jenny, making a go of a three-way love fest. Jenny without Gus. Jenny pregnant. My head was spinning. She hadn’t spiked the tea, had she?
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
MET W/THE BOSS 1ST THING THIS A.M. HE HAS A REAL (NORMAL) NAME, BUT INSISTS WE CALL HIM “THE BOSS”. GUESS SOMEONE MUST’VE DARED TO TELL HIM KING WAS TOO OSTENTATIOUS. I ACTUALLY LIKE CALLING HIM THE BOSS B/C IT AMUSES ME. MAYBE I’M SUPPOSED TO CONJURE UP SPRINGSTEEN, BUT I PICTURE DIANA ROSS IN HER DISCO PHASE INSTEAD.
BIG MTG THIS P.M. WITH GENERAL CONTRACTORS, ARCHITECTS AND SUCH TO MAP OUT A TIMELINE FOR THE BURNABY DEVELOPMENT. EVERYTHING’S A GO AND THE BOSS WAS HEAPING PRAISE ON ME DURING OUR MORNING MTG. HE’S POURING IT ON NOW B/C HE’LL KEEP THE SPOTLIGHT ON HIMSELF WHEN EVERYONE ELSE CONVENES. (THEY, OF COURSE, GET TO CALL HIM DAVE. AS LONG AS THEY DON’T LOOK HIM DIRECTLY IN THE EYE.) I’M SUPPOSED TO BE SATISFIED THAT HE ACKNOWLEDGES MY CONTRIBUTION IN ANY CAPACITY. BUT I’M NOT HERE FOR LONG. CAN’T BELIEVE HE DIDN’T BACK UP THE PRAISE W/A RAISE. JACKY, LUKE, WENDY & I NEED TO MEET AGAIN TO PLAN OUR NEW VENTURE. MY DAYS OF BEING IN THE SHADOW OF THE BOSS ARE NUMBERED. ANOTHER DIANA ROSS SONG COMES TO MIND: “IT’S MY TURN”. (NOTE TO SELF: ASK THERAPIST IF MY KNOWLEDGE OF DIANA ROSS WARRANTS ANALYSIS.)
BIG DATE TONITE. DECIDED ON BISHOP’S SINCE MARIBETH LIVES IN KITS. I’M THINKING THIS CLD BE THE START OF SOMETHING AMAZING. CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE CLARA IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
ALL DOLLED UP AND NOWHERE TO GO
January 23, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You get it the first time around, but others may not be so speedy. Slow down.
Laura’s Log:
So glad it’s the weekend. The last few haven’t been so great, but anything is better than being in the office—all that military maneuvering as everyone knows all-out war will break out at any moment. Ann-Marie and the girls made a point of talking loudly about the whole gang going for drinks after work Friday. The whole gang except me. Who’s harassing who?
Unfortunately, Ernesto doesn’t seem to get it. He thinks his job is totally safe. Doesn’t have a reflective bone in his body. Can’t seem to recall a single incident that would’ve incited the masses. Lewd looks at the girls’ cleavage? Hey, the eyes gotta go somewhere, right? Two eyes, two breasts…a natural balance. Watching porn in his office over lunch? It’s only the sounds people hear. So discreet. Brushing up against the girls in the break room, repeatedly asking their bra sizes “just as a conversation starter”? To call the man thick would only lead to a detailed description of the girth of a particular body part. The man is toast. Just don’t see how I got dragged into the mess.
Friday night was time to bond with Tupper. After twenty minutes of incessant tummy rub demands, he napped the rest of the evening. Isn’t that how he spent the whole day? Apparently I’m that much of a bore.
It’s been fifteen weeks since my last date, not that I’m counting. (The unfortunate incident last week with Jeremy Welles doesn’t count. Apparently, I was the only one who thought it was a date.) No prospects. Dodger is too young, isn’t he? Who am I kidding? I’d jump at the chance to go out with him—even if it meant an entire evening playing Grand Theft Auto. (Perhaps video violence leads to aggressive foreplay.)
I should be happy that Nadia and Tamara have both passed the one-month marker with their new guys. Yes, I am thrilled. They’re all on safari in the Serengeti, aren’t they? How else to explain the utter lack of communication? You can’t shag 24/7…can you? Fired off bitter emails to each of them on Wednesday, demanding an evening out like old times. Nadia managed to fit in a shagging break to send a curt reply: “How can you be so unsupportive? You just want my relationship with Bradley to fail, don’t you?” Oh, god. Walked right into a minefield with that one. No word at all from Tamara. I’m assuming there could be poor Internet connections on the savannah. How is it that they’ve forgotten how lonely it can be to be single?
Mom is insisting I come over tonight, maybe even drop in early for Knitting Club. “It’s all about connecting, dear. Betty Ng’s son is back from Toronto. Just got laid off AND dumped!” Ooh, now that’s exciting.
I’m out of excuses to avoid an evening spent hearing how my posture, my pores and the three grey hairs I can’t see at the back of my head are the cause for me being hopelessly single. That and all the coffee. Teeth could be so much whiter.
Yes, hurray for the weekend.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via iPhone):
SHE CALLED THE COPS ON ME! FRIDAY NIGHT AND THERE ARE GANGS SHOOTING EACH OTHER UP, HOMELESS FOLKS HUDDLED IN NOOKS AND CRANNIES FARTHER AND FARTHER AWAY FROM OLYMPIC CENTRALE AND THE POLICE HAVE TIME TO COME INVESTIGATE THE CASE OF THE SCALPED BARBIES.
“THOSE DOLLS COST HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS. THEY’RE COLLECTIBLES!” BESS SCREECHED, FIRST TO ME, THEN TO A BEWILDERED, BURLY OFFICER SAUNDERS. “THEY HAVE NO VALUE NOW.”
IF THEY WERE SO IMPORTANT, WHY DID CLARA LEAVE THEM IN MY CONDO FOR THREE MONTHS AFTER DUMPING ME AND RUNNING OFF TO JAKARTA RIGHT AFTER READING THAT INSIPID EAT PRAY LOVE? ONE OF HER MANY PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE STUNTS. LEAVE TWO DOZEN FREAKISHLY WHITE DOLLS TO STARE AT ME AND ANY DATE I CAN CONVINCE TO COME UP FOR COFFEE. WHO’S THE SADISTIC ONE? I SHOULD HAVE PAWNED THE WHOLE SET AND USED THE PROFITS TO BUY A USED GREEN DAY CD.
OFFICER SAUNDERS WISELY SUGGESTED THIS WLD BE A CIVIL COURT MATTER, IF ANYTHING. AND THE WHOLE THING WLD BE CLARA’S ISSUE, NOT BESS’. IN OTHER WORDS, MYOFB!
BESS REMAINED IN A RAGE. WANTED TO CALL CLARA, BUT GO FIGURE, HAD NO IDEA HOW TO REACH HER. “DON’T YOU GET IT?” I PRODDED. “SHE DIDN’T JUST DUMP ME. SHE DUMPED ALL OF US.” BESS FLASHED ME ONE OF HER PATENTED SNEERS BUT WENT ABOUT THE REST OF THE DE-CLARAFYING PROCESS IN POUTY SILENCE. THANK GOD.
DATE TONITE W/DEE DEE, THE FLORIST. DO YOU BUY A FLORIST FLOWERS OR WILL SHE BE UPSET THAT I GOT THEM FROM A COMPETITOR? WILL SHE READ TOO MUCH (OR TOO LITTLE) INTO THE PARTICULAR FLOWERS? WHAT DO TULIPS MEAN ANYWAY? AH, IT’S A FIRST DATE. I’M PAYING FOR DINNER, THAT’S ENUF.
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You get it the first time around, but others may not be so speedy. Slow down.
Laura’s Log:
So glad it’s the weekend. The last few haven’t been so great, but anything is better than being in the office—all that military maneuvering as everyone knows all-out war will break out at any moment. Ann-Marie and the girls made a point of talking loudly about the whole gang going for drinks after work Friday. The whole gang except me. Who’s harassing who?
Unfortunately, Ernesto doesn’t seem to get it. He thinks his job is totally safe. Doesn’t have a reflective bone in his body. Can’t seem to recall a single incident that would’ve incited the masses. Lewd looks at the girls’ cleavage? Hey, the eyes gotta go somewhere, right? Two eyes, two breasts…a natural balance. Watching porn in his office over lunch? It’s only the sounds people hear. So discreet. Brushing up against the girls in the break room, repeatedly asking their bra sizes “just as a conversation starter”? To call the man thick would only lead to a detailed description of the girth of a particular body part. The man is toast. Just don’t see how I got dragged into the mess.
Friday night was time to bond with Tupper. After twenty minutes of incessant tummy rub demands, he napped the rest of the evening. Isn’t that how he spent the whole day? Apparently I’m that much of a bore.
It’s been fifteen weeks since my last date, not that I’m counting. (The unfortunate incident last week with Jeremy Welles doesn’t count. Apparently, I was the only one who thought it was a date.) No prospects. Dodger is too young, isn’t he? Who am I kidding? I’d jump at the chance to go out with him—even if it meant an entire evening playing Grand Theft Auto. (Perhaps video violence leads to aggressive foreplay.)
I should be happy that Nadia and Tamara have both passed the one-month marker with their new guys. Yes, I am thrilled. They’re all on safari in the Serengeti, aren’t they? How else to explain the utter lack of communication? You can’t shag 24/7…can you? Fired off bitter emails to each of them on Wednesday, demanding an evening out like old times. Nadia managed to fit in a shagging break to send a curt reply: “How can you be so unsupportive? You just want my relationship with Bradley to fail, don’t you?” Oh, god. Walked right into a minefield with that one. No word at all from Tamara. I’m assuming there could be poor Internet connections on the savannah. How is it that they’ve forgotten how lonely it can be to be single?
Mom is insisting I come over tonight, maybe even drop in early for Knitting Club. “It’s all about connecting, dear. Betty Ng’s son is back from Toronto. Just got laid off AND dumped!” Ooh, now that’s exciting.
I’m out of excuses to avoid an evening spent hearing how my posture, my pores and the three grey hairs I can’t see at the back of my head are the cause for me being hopelessly single. That and all the coffee. Teeth could be so much whiter.
Yes, hurray for the weekend.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via iPhone):
SHE CALLED THE COPS ON ME! FRIDAY NIGHT AND THERE ARE GANGS SHOOTING EACH OTHER UP, HOMELESS FOLKS HUDDLED IN NOOKS AND CRANNIES FARTHER AND FARTHER AWAY FROM OLYMPIC CENTRALE AND THE POLICE HAVE TIME TO COME INVESTIGATE THE CASE OF THE SCALPED BARBIES.
“THOSE DOLLS COST HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS. THEY’RE COLLECTIBLES!” BESS SCREECHED, FIRST TO ME, THEN TO A BEWILDERED, BURLY OFFICER SAUNDERS. “THEY HAVE NO VALUE NOW.”
IF THEY WERE SO IMPORTANT, WHY DID CLARA LEAVE THEM IN MY CONDO FOR THREE MONTHS AFTER DUMPING ME AND RUNNING OFF TO JAKARTA RIGHT AFTER READING THAT INSIPID EAT PRAY LOVE? ONE OF HER MANY PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE STUNTS. LEAVE TWO DOZEN FREAKISHLY WHITE DOLLS TO STARE AT ME AND ANY DATE I CAN CONVINCE TO COME UP FOR COFFEE. WHO’S THE SADISTIC ONE? I SHOULD HAVE PAWNED THE WHOLE SET AND USED THE PROFITS TO BUY A USED GREEN DAY CD.
OFFICER SAUNDERS WISELY SUGGESTED THIS WLD BE A CIVIL COURT MATTER, IF ANYTHING. AND THE WHOLE THING WLD BE CLARA’S ISSUE, NOT BESS’. IN OTHER WORDS, MYOFB!
BESS REMAINED IN A RAGE. WANTED TO CALL CLARA, BUT GO FIGURE, HAD NO IDEA HOW TO REACH HER. “DON’T YOU GET IT?” I PRODDED. “SHE DIDN’T JUST DUMP ME. SHE DUMPED ALL OF US.” BESS FLASHED ME ONE OF HER PATENTED SNEERS BUT WENT ABOUT THE REST OF THE DE-CLARAFYING PROCESS IN POUTY SILENCE. THANK GOD.
DATE TONITE W/DEE DEE, THE FLORIST. DO YOU BUY A FLORIST FLOWERS OR WILL SHE BE UPSET THAT I GOT THEM FROM A COMPETITOR? WILL SHE READ TOO MUCH (OR TOO LITTLE) INTO THE PARTICULAR FLOWERS? WHAT DO TULIPS MEAN ANYWAY? AH, IT’S A FIRST DATE. I’M PAYING FOR DINNER, THAT’S ENUF.
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