Apparently it is cheaper to fly from Toronto->Edmonton->Halifax then directly from Toronto->Halifax......
*insert wide eyed open mouthed stare*
Really?! Does that not feel wrong to anyone else?
*insert cricket sounds*
Anyone?!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Tomato Nightmare
The tomato plants are out of control! Seriously, they are out of control. Nice weather combined with super fertilizer and lack of maintenance have turned this plants into trees. I'm not joking. They are now tomato trees. I love tomatoes, but not this much!
Yes, that's a hockey stick holding up the cage.
I knew that they were out of control but I did not realize just how out of control they really were till a few moments ago when I went outside to do some weeding. I peered out of my backyard into the communal area of the condo corp, and to my surprise, the tomato trees have grown threw the fence into the common area! Making my yard look like a jungle! I'm sure the neighbours and the condo corp are very pleased with this.
Damn "suckers", I should have listened when I was told to pull you out, but no, I didn't. I never imagined that a tomato plant could be so stressful.
Yes, that's a hockey stick holding up the cage.
I knew that they were out of control but I did not realize just how out of control they really were till a few moments ago when I went outside to do some weeding. I peered out of my backyard into the communal area of the condo corp, and to my surprise, the tomato trees have grown threw the fence into the common area! Making my yard look like a jungle! I'm sure the neighbours and the condo corp are very pleased with this.
Damn "suckers", I should have listened when I was told to pull you out, but no, I didn't. I never imagined that a tomato plant could be so stressful.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
I am not a Koala Bear
I’ve been trying to write about some recent events but my mind is so cluttered with childhood memories at the moment that I just need to get them out before I can start talking about life as it is right now.
I used to think I was a koala bear. I’m not sure why a koala bear, but who doesn’t like koalas? They are adorable!
On this particular summer’s day in my parent’s backyard I decided to test out my koala like qualities. I had probably just watched a cartoon or WWF commercial showing a koala like this one:
See, sooo cute!
Now to set up the scenario, my parents had an old shed that usually housed the lawn mower and other dilapidated items. I hated going in this shed cause it was always full of spiders but it did come in handy as you could easily jump on to the roof from the upper yard. My parents told me that I wasn’t allowed to get on top because the shed was rotting and I could fall through. If only they knew that it wasn’t the shed that was dangerous, it was my imagination that they should have worried about! Directly beside the shed were two very tall skinny trees. My dad will be very embarrassed that I can’t remember the type of tree. They were the kind of tree that had lots of tiny branches that were pliable. These trees were close to the shed but just far enough that you couldn’t grab them.
Ok, now that you have a visual of the shed, let’s get to the story. So you have to understand that in my mind, I was a Koala, there was no doubt about it. I didn’t even question that perhaps I wasn’t a Koala and just a fearless little kid with an over active imagination. So I jumped on the roof of the shed, already feeling a pang of guilt because I knew I was breaking the “no climbing on the shed” rule. So I had to act quickly so that I wouldn’t get caught on top of the shed. No time to calculate the risks of this adventure. No time to question what would happen if it didn’t go as planned. No time to be scared of how tall the shed really was in comparison to me. There was certainly no time to think about the laws of gravity that were about to come into play.
I took the leap. I jumped at one of the trees.
In my Koala imagination, this is how this scenario played out: I would jump into the tree. Since I was a Koala bear, I would be able to grab on to the tree, wrap my arms and legs around the trunk and stay there. I would probably stay there for the rest of the day, just chilling out like a koala. Maybe I would even try eating a leaf or two. Who knows?!
This is what happened in real life: I jumped full speed at the tree. I reached the tree but instead of clinging elegantly to the trunk, I hit it with a thud. I then plummeted to the ground at a force that my little brain had not anticipated. Since the tree’s branches were so pliable there was nothing to break my fall, I just kept falling breaking the branches as I went. In retrospect that was probably the better scenario than impaling myself on a larger branch! At least I didn’t lose any vital organs in this adventure!
In a daze I found myself at the bottom of the tree, covered in parts of tree and leaves and incredibly shocked at how my Koala qualities had failed me. I WASN’T A REAL KOALA BEAR!!!!
Now I don’t really remember what happened after this but I do know that I wasn’t seriously hurt, just some scrapes and bruises. I do remember that shortly after this incident, my father chopped down the two trees. For those of you who know my dad, you will understand how big of a deal it is that he had to cut down the trees. I guess he knew me well enough to know that I didn’t often learn from my mistakes!
I am also proud to say that I no longer have a Koala Bear identity crisis.
I used to think I was a koala bear. I’m not sure why a koala bear, but who doesn’t like koalas? They are adorable!
On this particular summer’s day in my parent’s backyard I decided to test out my koala like qualities. I had probably just watched a cartoon or WWF commercial showing a koala like this one:
See, sooo cute!
Now to set up the scenario, my parents had an old shed that usually housed the lawn mower and other dilapidated items. I hated going in this shed cause it was always full of spiders but it did come in handy as you could easily jump on to the roof from the upper yard. My parents told me that I wasn’t allowed to get on top because the shed was rotting and I could fall through. If only they knew that it wasn’t the shed that was dangerous, it was my imagination that they should have worried about! Directly beside the shed were two very tall skinny trees. My dad will be very embarrassed that I can’t remember the type of tree. They were the kind of tree that had lots of tiny branches that were pliable. These trees were close to the shed but just far enough that you couldn’t grab them.
Ok, now that you have a visual of the shed, let’s get to the story. So you have to understand that in my mind, I was a Koala, there was no doubt about it. I didn’t even question that perhaps I wasn’t a Koala and just a fearless little kid with an over active imagination. So I jumped on the roof of the shed, already feeling a pang of guilt because I knew I was breaking the “no climbing on the shed” rule. So I had to act quickly so that I wouldn’t get caught on top of the shed. No time to calculate the risks of this adventure. No time to question what would happen if it didn’t go as planned. No time to be scared of how tall the shed really was in comparison to me. There was certainly no time to think about the laws of gravity that were about to come into play.
I took the leap. I jumped at one of the trees.
In my Koala imagination, this is how this scenario played out: I would jump into the tree. Since I was a Koala bear, I would be able to grab on to the tree, wrap my arms and legs around the trunk and stay there. I would probably stay there for the rest of the day, just chilling out like a koala. Maybe I would even try eating a leaf or two. Who knows?!
This is what happened in real life: I jumped full speed at the tree. I reached the tree but instead of clinging elegantly to the trunk, I hit it with a thud. I then plummeted to the ground at a force that my little brain had not anticipated. Since the tree’s branches were so pliable there was nothing to break my fall, I just kept falling breaking the branches as I went. In retrospect that was probably the better scenario than impaling myself on a larger branch! At least I didn’t lose any vital organs in this adventure!
In a daze I found myself at the bottom of the tree, covered in parts of tree and leaves and incredibly shocked at how my Koala qualities had failed me. I WASN’T A REAL KOALA BEAR!!!!
Now I don’t really remember what happened after this but I do know that I wasn’t seriously hurt, just some scrapes and bruises. I do remember that shortly after this incident, my father chopped down the two trees. For those of you who know my dad, you will understand how big of a deal it is that he had to cut down the trees. I guess he knew me well enough to know that I didn’t often learn from my mistakes!
I am also proud to say that I no longer have a Koala Bear identity crisis.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
New Name
I've decided to change my blog title after several prompts from Mr. Grant Cuylle. He claims that he is my one and only reader, although he has yet to figure out the comment function. I have to say, it does have a certain ring to it that "Sincerely, Jo" was lacking.
Maybe one of these days I will really spice things up and add a real header with pictures!
Maybe one of these days I will really spice things up and add a real header with pictures!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Julia and the Poodle
Recently my mom reminded me off my childhood imaginary friends. Julia and a poodle. I don’t remember the poodle’s name but that may be because the memory of him has been suppressed due to his tragic death, which I will elaborate on later.
Julia was not a normal imaginary friend. Julia was a deviant. She liked to push boundaries and break all the rules. I on the other hand have always followed the rules, although my parents may think differently. My friends are sworn to secrecy!
There is one incident that I remember quite vividly. My parents had purchased a mini sewing machine for me. Much like this one:
It worked just like a normal sized sewing machine, but it was mini. I liked this sewing machine. I enjoyed being able to be my mom`s sewing sidekick. But then Julia showed up. Now from what I can remember, I liked Julia. In terms of imaginary friends, she was cool. She wasn`t all that bright though. On this particular occasion, Julia decided to sabotage the mini sewing machine. She took a pair of scissors and cut the machines peddle right off the sewing machine! I don’t think she understood that without the peddle it was completely useless. She did not hesitate and had no regard for how my parents would react.
Parents: Jody, why did you cut of the foot of your sewing machine?
Me: Julia did it.
Parents: Jody....
Me: Julia did it.
Now my parents may say that it was me that cut of the peddle off my sewing machine but it was most definitely Julia`s fault.
Now on to the poodle. Let’s call it Fluffy because that’s the first name that comes to mind. Again, Fluffy’s death was so tragic; I have erased all my memories of him. This story is purely based on my parent’s recollection of the events.
Fluffy, not unlike Julia, was the source of many irritating moments for my parents. I’m sure I didn’t feel the same way but as noted with Julia above, we often had differing opinions on my imaginary friends.
My family was on a road trip, most likely to New Brunswick to visit family. I had decided on this particular trip that Fluffy should come with us. Being a small child, I sometimes had trouble controlling my imaginary dog. Fluffy was being particularly annoying on this trip. I can only assume that he was running all over the place, probably all over my dad while he was trying to concentrate on driving. Fluffy was out of control and my dad had reached his boiling point with my imaginary poodle. At the peak of the chaos, my father asked if he could see Fluffy. Being a trusting child, I handed over my precious childhood friend. I was not at all prepared for what was about to happen.
My father rolled down his window and tossed Fluffy out. –“Insert open mouth, wide eyed stare”-
Fluffy was never heard of again. My father maintains to this day that Fluffy might have survived this incident. I’m pretty sure that it was this incident that caused me to erase all childhood memories of my beloved imaginary pet dog.
Note: All animal lovers, please remember, that this is an imaginary pet. My father does not usually harm animals. His actions were out of sheer exhastion of dealing with his childs crazy imagination. Also, I do not normally think animal cruelty is humorous, aside from the first post about the dead bird. Sometimes I can’t control what things make me laugh.
Dad, I forgive you.
Julia was not a normal imaginary friend. Julia was a deviant. She liked to push boundaries and break all the rules. I on the other hand have always followed the rules, although my parents may think differently. My friends are sworn to secrecy!
There is one incident that I remember quite vividly. My parents had purchased a mini sewing machine for me. Much like this one:
It worked just like a normal sized sewing machine, but it was mini. I liked this sewing machine. I enjoyed being able to be my mom`s sewing sidekick. But then Julia showed up. Now from what I can remember, I liked Julia. In terms of imaginary friends, she was cool. She wasn`t all that bright though. On this particular occasion, Julia decided to sabotage the mini sewing machine. She took a pair of scissors and cut the machines peddle right off the sewing machine! I don’t think she understood that without the peddle it was completely useless. She did not hesitate and had no regard for how my parents would react.
Parents: Jody, why did you cut of the foot of your sewing machine?
Me: Julia did it.
Parents: Jody....
Me: Julia did it.
Now my parents may say that it was me that cut of the peddle off my sewing machine but it was most definitely Julia`s fault.
Now on to the poodle. Let’s call it Fluffy because that’s the first name that comes to mind. Again, Fluffy’s death was so tragic; I have erased all my memories of him. This story is purely based on my parent’s recollection of the events.
Fluffy, not unlike Julia, was the source of many irritating moments for my parents. I’m sure I didn’t feel the same way but as noted with Julia above, we often had differing opinions on my imaginary friends.
My family was on a road trip, most likely to New Brunswick to visit family. I had decided on this particular trip that Fluffy should come with us. Being a small child, I sometimes had trouble controlling my imaginary dog. Fluffy was being particularly annoying on this trip. I can only assume that he was running all over the place, probably all over my dad while he was trying to concentrate on driving. Fluffy was out of control and my dad had reached his boiling point with my imaginary poodle. At the peak of the chaos, my father asked if he could see Fluffy. Being a trusting child, I handed over my precious childhood friend. I was not at all prepared for what was about to happen.
My father rolled down his window and tossed Fluffy out. –“Insert open mouth, wide eyed stare”-
Fluffy was never heard of again. My father maintains to this day that Fluffy might have survived this incident. I’m pretty sure that it was this incident that caused me to erase all childhood memories of my beloved imaginary pet dog.
Note: All animal lovers, please remember, that this is an imaginary pet. My father does not usually harm animals. His actions were out of sheer exhastion of dealing with his childs crazy imagination. Also, I do not normally think animal cruelty is humorous, aside from the first post about the dead bird. Sometimes I can’t control what things make me laugh.
Dad, I forgive you.
Friday, August 20, 2010
If Found Please Return to Room #__
One of my best friends was visiting Toronto on a job hunting adventure. Sarah was staying in a hotel for the weekend when I decided to visit her. From the top of the night, we could both tell it was going to be an evening to remember. It lived up to our expectations.
We ended up at a very nice restaurant on King St. They were booked solid but after some slight persuasion, they were able to find a table. This is where the madness began. The food was great but the wine was even better. We got the royal treatment with the chef sending out dessert and port on the house as well as an extra bottle of wine at no cost to us. Or at least not to our wallets, my dignity is another thing. So by this point it’s fairly late, we are 2 bottles of wine and a glass of port in the bag and ready to head back to the hotel. We wanted to ward off the hangover that was looming on the horizon, so we stopped at a convenience shop and each both a very large bottle of water.
Back at the hotel we changed into our pj’s, downed our bottles of water and said good night. This is the last part of the story that makes any sense to me.
My next memory is realizing that I was no longer in my bed, but that I was now standing in the hallway of the hotel...in a “kiss me I’m not Irish” t-shirt and my undies!!!! You can imagine my confusion. WHAT was I doing out here? At this point, I was still very disillusioned and disoriented. Since this was not my hotel room, I hadn’t made a point of remembering what the room number actually was. I did remember where it was in relation to the elevator.
At the time it seemed logical that I would just trace my steps from the elevator to the hotel room. So I did this a couples times until I was certain that I was outside the correct hotel room. So I knocked. Keep in mind, that it was now approximately 3am and I was dressed very inappropriately to be wondering around a hotel and randomly knocking on people’s doors.
No one answers.
I knocked again. Imagine my surprise, when the person who opens the door, isn’t Sarah, but a middle age man. He looked very confused. As mentioned above, I still had no idea why I was in the hallway, so I can only imagine that my explanation to him made little to no sense. I got out of there as fast as I could and started to work out plan#2.
“I have to go to the Lobby”
I was scared to take the elevator in fear that someone might see me. I wasn’t thinking that once I got to the lobby I was going to have to see people. So I took the stairs. A lot of stairs. Finally I emerged from the stairwell, barefoot, in my undies and my “kiss me I’m not Irish” t-shirt.
The Lobby is full of people. WHY???
Now everyone was staring at me. Rightfully so. I tried to act normal but I just managed to look more awkward than I already was. You know when you can tell that a person thinks you are crazy even before you open your mouth? This is the feeling that I had when I approached the front desk. I think the conversation went something like this:
Me: I can’t find my room.
Scared Man: Do you have a room here?
Me: No. My friend does, but I don’t remember the number.
Scared Man: Why are you not in the room?
Me: I’m not sure. I think I had to pee.
Scared Man: -Blank Stare- I can’t give you the number. You are going to have to call your “friend” and ask yourself.
I walked across the lobby to the courtesy phone and found my friends name. I called. No answer. I called again. Still no answer. I called again and Sarah picked up. I calmly tried to explain that I needed the room number and that I was in the lobby. Her response was “but why are you not in the room right now? Why did you leave?” Again, my answer was “I don’t know!!”
Finally, at least an hour later, I had the room number so I headed to the elevator. I figured that I had left the last bit of my dignity in the lobby as the crowd of people clapped and pointed. It was safe to take the elevator. As I got into the elevator, someone tried to give me a high five and the person already in there was completely dumbfounded.
The next morning when we finally woke up, I realized that I smelt like a camp fire. After going over the story with Sarah, I could not figure out when I would have come in contact with anything remotely smoky. I chalked it up to it just being an incredibly bizarre evening. We headed to Starbucks.
As we were having a coffee in Starbucks, we noticed a commotion going on down the street from out hotel. Fire trucks. A store was on fire! Sarah turned to look at me, eyes wide.
Me: I swear...it wasn’t me!
We ended up at a very nice restaurant on King St. They were booked solid but after some slight persuasion, they were able to find a table. This is where the madness began. The food was great but the wine was even better. We got the royal treatment with the chef sending out dessert and port on the house as well as an extra bottle of wine at no cost to us. Or at least not to our wallets, my dignity is another thing. So by this point it’s fairly late, we are 2 bottles of wine and a glass of port in the bag and ready to head back to the hotel. We wanted to ward off the hangover that was looming on the horizon, so we stopped at a convenience shop and each both a very large bottle of water.
Back at the hotel we changed into our pj’s, downed our bottles of water and said good night. This is the last part of the story that makes any sense to me.
My next memory is realizing that I was no longer in my bed, but that I was now standing in the hallway of the hotel...in a “kiss me I’m not Irish” t-shirt and my undies!!!! You can imagine my confusion. WHAT was I doing out here? At this point, I was still very disillusioned and disoriented. Since this was not my hotel room, I hadn’t made a point of remembering what the room number actually was. I did remember where it was in relation to the elevator.
At the time it seemed logical that I would just trace my steps from the elevator to the hotel room. So I did this a couples times until I was certain that I was outside the correct hotel room. So I knocked. Keep in mind, that it was now approximately 3am and I was dressed very inappropriately to be wondering around a hotel and randomly knocking on people’s doors.
No one answers.
I knocked again. Imagine my surprise, when the person who opens the door, isn’t Sarah, but a middle age man. He looked very confused. As mentioned above, I still had no idea why I was in the hallway, so I can only imagine that my explanation to him made little to no sense. I got out of there as fast as I could and started to work out plan#2.
“I have to go to the Lobby”
I was scared to take the elevator in fear that someone might see me. I wasn’t thinking that once I got to the lobby I was going to have to see people. So I took the stairs. A lot of stairs. Finally I emerged from the stairwell, barefoot, in my undies and my “kiss me I’m not Irish” t-shirt.
The Lobby is full of people. WHY???
Now everyone was staring at me. Rightfully so. I tried to act normal but I just managed to look more awkward than I already was. You know when you can tell that a person thinks you are crazy even before you open your mouth? This is the feeling that I had when I approached the front desk. I think the conversation went something like this:
Me: I can’t find my room.
Scared Man: Do you have a room here?
Me: No. My friend does, but I don’t remember the number.
Scared Man: Why are you not in the room?
Me: I’m not sure. I think I had to pee.
Scared Man: -Blank Stare- I can’t give you the number. You are going to have to call your “friend” and ask yourself.
I walked across the lobby to the courtesy phone and found my friends name. I called. No answer. I called again. Still no answer. I called again and Sarah picked up. I calmly tried to explain that I needed the room number and that I was in the lobby. Her response was “but why are you not in the room right now? Why did you leave?” Again, my answer was “I don’t know!!”
Finally, at least an hour later, I had the room number so I headed to the elevator. I figured that I had left the last bit of my dignity in the lobby as the crowd of people clapped and pointed. It was safe to take the elevator. As I got into the elevator, someone tried to give me a high five and the person already in there was completely dumbfounded.
The next morning when we finally woke up, I realized that I smelt like a camp fire. After going over the story with Sarah, I could not figure out when I would have come in contact with anything remotely smoky. I chalked it up to it just being an incredibly bizarre evening. We headed to Starbucks.
As we were having a coffee in Starbucks, we noticed a commotion going on down the street from out hotel. Fire trucks. A store was on fire! Sarah turned to look at me, eyes wide.
Me: I swear...it wasn’t me!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Perfect Beginning
I have been humming and hawing over how I was going to start this blog without it feeling awkward. After becoming frustrated, I decided that it could wait until another day. Then I got home and found the perfect story to start with as an example of the strange things that happen in my day to day life. So here is the story. I must give the credit to my cat, Foxy Lady (aka Kitty).
Last night I found a dead bird in my yard. Mostly intact and proudly displayed as what I can only assume to be a loving memento from Kitty. I scooped the thing up with a shovel and put it in a plastic bag to dispose of next garbage day. I made one critical mistake. Instead of tossing the bird casket into the garage, like any other normal person would do, I left the bag sitting outside the garage door. Big mistake.
I got home from work today, to find that Kitty had dragged the dead bird in it's bag, back upstairs (a small feat on its own) and had almost successfully chewed through the plastic bag to find what she would see as a mid day snack. The plastic bag, now full of holes from her dagger teeth was sitting next to her food dish as if to say "Dinner, please!". I can only imagine what I would have come home to if she had of been successful.
Sorry Kitty, I'm very proud of your hunting abilities, but it's going to be kibble again tonight.
Last night I found a dead bird in my yard. Mostly intact and proudly displayed as what I can only assume to be a loving memento from Kitty. I scooped the thing up with a shovel and put it in a plastic bag to dispose of next garbage day. I made one critical mistake. Instead of tossing the bird casket into the garage, like any other normal person would do, I left the bag sitting outside the garage door. Big mistake.
I got home from work today, to find that Kitty had dragged the dead bird in it's bag, back upstairs (a small feat on its own) and had almost successfully chewed through the plastic bag to find what she would see as a mid day snack. The plastic bag, now full of holes from her dagger teeth was sitting next to her food dish as if to say "Dinner, please!". I can only imagine what I would have come home to if she had of been successful.
Sorry Kitty, I'm very proud of your hunting abilities, but it's going to be kibble again tonight.
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