And The Award Goes To......

...Me? Oh! Hey! Me! Yay!

Danica thinks I'm talented and for that I get to win an award! Thanks, Dani! Although, I have to say, whatever you've been told? It ain't true. None of it! Seriously, except for that one time.....Just kidding. So as penance for being award worthy I get to amaze y'all with 10 things you might not know about me. That's not really that easy to do without getting overly personal. But I'll give it my best shot.

1. My favourite colour is red. I very nearly shun all other colours except black which goes with red really well and pink, which is really Red's little sister.

2. I wanted to be a lawyer when I grew up. Then I realized law is interpretive and not absolute and knew better than to try to fix the world's problems that way. Then I decided I would become a writer. I sell mortgages. Go Figure.

3. I had my daughter when I was 18 years old and hate the look I get when people do the math and figure out a 31 year old woman has a 13 year old daughter. She is taken care of, well adjusted, lovely and spoiled within an inch of her life. I am with her father and have been since I was sixteen. Take your judgemental eyeballs and have a look in your own closet before you peg me with a stereo type. Yeah, a little passionate about this.

4. I have a growing obsession with all things fantasy. I used to think fantasy was the geekiest thing imaginable. Then my hubby introduced me to role playing computer games, a number of which lean heavily toward the type of D&D Fantasy I like. They lead to reading fantasy and Bam! I'm hooked. Now I proudly let my geek flag fly. Where the hell did you think Eyvi Sprite came from?

5. I couldn't carry a tune if my life depended on it. I wish I could. Because I love to sing. And do, much to the chagrin of my family, at the top of my lungs.

6. I am grossly weak willed but inherently stubborn. How does that happen?

7. I was raised with religion and have abandoned it. I cannot bring myself to rest my fate in the hands of a whatever, for which there is no substantial proof. My faith is broken. I wish it weren't, because the idea of religion is beautiful. Not the good, clean living, that's nice but not what I love. It's the ability to believe. I envy those who do. Those with the ability to free themselves enough to have faith. But I can't do it. I do however, allow my imagination free reign and frequently wonder at the existence of far stranger things than God. I haven't figured out how not to be a hypocrite.

8. I have been to every province east of Ontario except PEI and have never been west of Hamilton.

9. My nickname as a youngster was Piss Ass. Mad Max hated the name my parents chose and called me that instead. On my wedding day, when he told me he couldn't call me Piss Ass anymore, I cried.

10. I don't like fudge. I know, I should be tarred and feathered. Drug out into the street and shot. I can't help it. It feels gross in my mouth and the taste does not make up for that. Not even close.

Wow! That was hard! I hope I have lived up to each of your expectations. If not, I'll try not to lose any sleep (hmm, the sarcastic font is missing on my blog too!)

My nomination? Lainey Bobainey - because she makes me laugh everytime I read her blog and cause she started NWW. It takes alot of guts to tell people to quit their bitchin' even if just for a day.

I'm a wee bit tired now. Maybe I will write about Wednesday on Thursday.

Blogger is making me wonky because it won't leave the spaces I keep putting in! Argh!

No Whining! I'm Not!

As you are aware, my hubby is enjoying an all expenses paid trip to the big city, which makes me slightly busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.

This is what made me smile today:

- I volunteered to be the fundraising coordinator for my daughter's hockey team (What was I thinking? Oh, that's right! I wasn't!). This is something I've never done but am attempting in the name of being a supportive parent (as if driving her all over god's country and paying for the most expensive recreational sport EVER isn't supportive). Today I booked one event and laid 3 more on the table. That should take care of things up until Christmas. Something ridiculous, like $5000 left!

- Being the ever attentive driver that I am, I nearly hit a car in one of only two intersections I have to navigate in a day. In my defense, I was turning left and she was running the red light (that was green and then changed to yellow while I waited). I should have waited though, to make sure she wasn't going to gun it before I did. But I was going fast and she braked hard and we didn't collide!

- There wasn't any snow last night. I adore the first snowfall, there are few things as beautiful, but not on October freaking 14th, thankyouverymuch!

- I slept poorly last night, I always do the first night my hubby is away and last night was no exception. The good news? I am bound to sleep like the dead tonight.

- I got my very first Halloween Party invitation as an adult! cough*loser*cough Yay for me! What am I gonna dress up as? I am so excited for all the possibilities.

- And finally, it feels like Tuesday because it's only the second day back to work but tomorrow is Thursday already. I love long weekends!

Hey! Did You Change Your Spots?

Sunday mornings are usually reserved for catching up on my favourite websites and blogs and this Sunday was no different. This morning I read a rather insightful post on Michael Murray's blog. I began reading this particular blog for no better reason than Michael Murray writes for Pajiba (my favourite site, for those of you who don't know) and he lives in Toronto and often writes about my home town. I stuck around because his writing is fantastic.

In case you haven't found the strength to or aren't interested in clicking the link above, I'll fill you in. On Friday he wrote about a visit to a pub. Whilst in the pub Michael observed the activities being carried out by both employee and patron. He focuses his attention more so on the owner of the establishment and "the career waitress". His observations were so astute I felt myself drawn to another time, another place.

I have mentioned before my parents are divorced. As a single parent, my Mother worked very hard to make ends meet. The type of employment available to a woman of meager education is limited and menial. Factory worker, housekeeping, cleaning lady and waitress are all jobs often filled by a single mother. The (perceived) lack of skill required is only the first of many reasons why. The hours are often flexible (to work around childcare, school, etc.), and the number of positions available are usually numerous. My mother has done every one of them, often more than one at a time. But the one that profited us best was waitress. And it did so for approximately 15 years.

I was just shy of 13 when the death throes of my parents marriage finally ceased. We moved back to Toronto from my Dad's home province because that was where the majority of my Mother's family lived; where she would receive the most support. Almost immediately she found work as a waitress. Nor had this been the first time. Waitresses have the luxury of being able to find work almost anywhere, at nearly any time. She continued waiting tables until well after I had moved away from home.

I was usually in charge of the homestead while Mom worked. Occasionally, whether by choice or necessity, I was at the restaurant. Michael's post transported me to a time when I was perhaps 15 years old. School books and binders spread across the Formica topped table, the smell of stale cigarettes, beer and fryer fat heavy on the air. I sat and watched my Mom. She never wrote down an order. Raising the inevitable question, followed by amazement at her ability to remember orders. The pride in her voice when she assured the non-believers she didn't need a note pad, never had. The troublemakers that tried to catch her with complicated orders. They never did; she saw them coming.

I remember marveling at the seemingly super human ability to carry an impossible number of drinks, glasses and bottles alike without a tray. To arrange platefuls of food and transport them to their destination without dropping so much as a fry, again without a tray. She rarely utilized the bartenders book when mixing drinks, every ingredient, every measurment committed to memory. More often than not, she approached the table of a newly seated regular, already armed with their drink of choice.

At the wise old age of 15 I knew I never wanted to be her. I knew the hate she felt at her station in life. I saw the wasted and missed opportunities mirrored in her eyes. I understood the fear she felt at the thought of what she would do when she was too old to do this. I heard the audible click in her throat every time she swallowed her pride after being reminded she was only a waitress, at the mercy of every customer. I watched as she measured success in a tip cup.

But she was a goddess among women. As much as I focused on her faults (the breath of many a career waitress carries the scent of her favourite vice), I knew her sacrifice was great, so mine or my sisters wouldn't have to be. She provided for us the best way she knew how, never knowingly asking us to return the sacrifice. And eventually it became all she knew. It became all she could know, because everything else frightened her. To begin again induced anxiety and so she began to hide behind her memorized menu, cocktails and orders. Too old to start anew.

A career in the service industry is not without its hazards. Many attempt to drown the emotions related to the supposed lack of achievement. Often age becomes a hindrance so great, employment in their chosen trade is no longer an option. Occasionally, their wrists give out. I don't know how others have addressed this particular disability when waitressing is all they've known. I do know that my Mom, after attempting to deny it, falling back on one or two of the previously mentioned jobs, reigned in her will, her resolve, her strength and enrolled in college.

I used to know the woman in Michael's post. My Mom used to be that woman. Not anymore though. Now my Mom is a college graduate who has a career in Social Services. Shame on me for forgetting a leopard can change her spots.

Fundy Fun

As I have mentioned before we live in Nova Scotia. Today we went to visit The Bay of Fundy. The Bay of Fundy is famous for being home to the worlds highest tides. In little more than a 12 hour period the tides in The Bay of Fundy will rise and fall approximately 17 metres or 56 feet (according to wiki). It is this nifty little fact that has secured The Bay of Fundy a spot on the short list of nominees for the New Seven Wonders of the World. You can get yourself into all kinds of trouble related to the tides. When the tide is coming in, you can ride the resulting tidal bore in various locations. Or if the tide is already gone when you visit, why not go mud sliding? You can also go whale watching, kayaking, hiking...ok, so I'm started to sound like a tourist guide, I'll stop. The few times that I have witnessed it, just watching the tide go out or come in is a thing of beauty. It's a pretty phenomenal thing to see. NASA has some pretty cool pictures. Here is high tide and low tide from space.

Neat, eh? Well, I have pictures too, NASA!

Note the arrow I took the time to add so that it is easier for you to see the height of the water at the time of this picture (you're welcome). And just an hour later;

Okay so NASA's pictures are neater, but hey, I learned to use Paint.

The kids had wanted to go in the cave you can see to the right of the arrow. When we first got there we would have been able to get in, but getting out again was questionable. So I was a mean Momma and said no. I have promised we'll go back again earlier in the day next time so that they can go spelunking. They got soaked as a consolation. My car is going to stink of seaweed and saltwater for the rest of the summer.

Oh, my car! My hubby suggested we take his car. This being one of the first hot, sunny days we've had yet this summer and me being a wimp, I said no, let's take my car, because it has air conditioning. He asked me was I sure, and tried to remind me of the condition of the road we would have to travel. I said "bah! It wasn't that bad" He didn't argue. We took my car. I got my car in March. It's an '09 Kia Spectra5. It isn't a Porsche or anything, but it's mine and it's peppy and I drove a mini-van before it, so it sort of is like a Porsche to me. The route to the bay took us over a mountain on a single lane dirt road. It has been a fairly rainy summer here. The road is not one the town maintains regularly, so the runnels that had formed were damned near big enough to swallow my car. The surface is closer to full on rocks as opposed to crushed gravel. My tires are low profile. The forest lines either side of the road has nearly swallowed the road. I will leave the condition of my paint job to your imagination. Sheesh, I'm an ass sometimes.