I have been lacking in the blogging world lately. I haven't found the inspiration to wax poetic on any topic in particular. That's because I haven't done a lot lately. I had a chest infection last week. I spent Saturday in bed, hallucinating from a fever. I had a job interview this week that I wheezed through like a hair ball infested cat. I made spaghetti sauce from scratch this weekend. That's about it. A lot of phlegm and a whole lot of nothing.
Forgive me for my lack of words. Once I can take a deep breath again without collapsing into a coughing fit, I'll type again.
Wheezingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Know When to Hold 'Em
If there is one thing I have learned over the past couple of years, it's what battle to fight. Before, I would drop the gloves and fight over things I had no control over or business being involved in. Now, at 31, I am learning which battles to pick. Or am I...?
Several things have been brought to my "attention" lately when someone thinks I messed up. When I do mess up, I'd like to think I stick my hand (and neck) out. But in most of these recent cases, I am being criticized for things I have no control over or involvement in. I don't understand why I'm being chastized for a grown man not showing up to an event. Or why my knuckles are rapped when a stranger doesn't respond to an email. This is when I think I should stand up and throw the gloves off.
But I don't.
Instead, I wait. For what, I am not sure. Perhaps a better battle field? In the meantime, my knuckles are bloodied, my brow beaten, and my spirit crushed for no good reason.
I am afraid, though, that one of these days, I am going to get called on the carpet for something I have no invovlement in, and I will lose it. And I mean wall-eyed fit, riot-starting, throat-grabbing lose it. It won't be pretty and I'll probably lose my job. But I guarantee I'll feel a million times better!
I need to find a happy medium.
Straddlingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Several things have been brought to my "attention" lately when someone thinks I messed up. When I do mess up, I'd like to think I stick my hand (and neck) out. But in most of these recent cases, I am being criticized for things I have no control over or involvement in. I don't understand why I'm being chastized for a grown man not showing up to an event. Or why my knuckles are rapped when a stranger doesn't respond to an email. This is when I think I should stand up and throw the gloves off.
But I don't.
Instead, I wait. For what, I am not sure. Perhaps a better battle field? In the meantime, my knuckles are bloodied, my brow beaten, and my spirit crushed for no good reason.
I am afraid, though, that one of these days, I am going to get called on the carpet for something I have no invovlement in, and I will lose it. And I mean wall-eyed fit, riot-starting, throat-grabbing lose it. It won't be pretty and I'll probably lose my job. But I guarantee I'll feel a million times better!
I need to find a happy medium.
Straddlingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Ode to My Landlord
If you've read any of this blog, you will quickly learn that I live in a sketchier, although very colourful, part of Edmonton. I am pleased to update that the drug dealers next door have, in fact, moved out. And there has not been a crack head sighting in well over a month. Ka-za! I call that progress.
If you read any newspapers, or heed the media, you will hear all about the "Alberta Advantage" where there are hundreds of jobs and thousands of dollars just sitting here waiting to be earned. Yet, with that Advantage comes high prices, low vacancy rates, and people crying foul. I certainly can cry foul. Although I am gainfully employed, I am not raking in the big moolah like other Albertans, transferred or otherwise.
There has been a lot of coverage lately about landlords who are jacking up rents, sometimes doubling the rent. Some of these landlords have the audacity to raise the rent ridiculously for rat-traps. Oh, I understand they're in a business, and they have to raise rents according to the market. But to charge someone $1000 for a slummy bachelor? I think not! Plus, a lot of landlords are turning their buildings into condos. Most of my 'hood now has gone condo. Tiny apartments that are gross in the first place are now selling for $250,000. Nuts, I tells you, nuts!
So imagine my nail biting this spring when my lease was up. Was my building going condo? How much more would I have to pay a month in rent? Could I afford it? If it did go condo, would i want to buy my apartment? Fret fret fret...
A couple weeks ago, while sitting in my living room, I heard the shuffle of paper under my door. I scurried to get it, and saw the doom. My landlord was indeed raising my rent. My heart sank as I read the notice. My rent was going up $95 a month! Come August I'll pay $645 for a HUGE one bedroom. So big, that it could easily be a two bedroom! $95 month?! That's nothing!
My landlord deserves this ode for this... When I went to pay my rent last month, she opened the door with teary eyes. She apologized profusely for the increase, and said she agonized over it. She said it was the last thing in the world she wanted, but she had to raise it, just to cover the rising costs. How refreshing! Her tears and apology made me realize I am lucky to live in the place I do, even though I live in the quasi-ghetto.
I don't live in an Elvis song after all! Hurray!
smooches!
xoxoSallyt
If you read any newspapers, or heed the media, you will hear all about the "Alberta Advantage" where there are hundreds of jobs and thousands of dollars just sitting here waiting to be earned. Yet, with that Advantage comes high prices, low vacancy rates, and people crying foul. I certainly can cry foul. Although I am gainfully employed, I am not raking in the big moolah like other Albertans, transferred or otherwise.
There has been a lot of coverage lately about landlords who are jacking up rents, sometimes doubling the rent. Some of these landlords have the audacity to raise the rent ridiculously for rat-traps. Oh, I understand they're in a business, and they have to raise rents according to the market. But to charge someone $1000 for a slummy bachelor? I think not! Plus, a lot of landlords are turning their buildings into condos. Most of my 'hood now has gone condo. Tiny apartments that are gross in the first place are now selling for $250,000. Nuts, I tells you, nuts!
So imagine my nail biting this spring when my lease was up. Was my building going condo? How much more would I have to pay a month in rent? Could I afford it? If it did go condo, would i want to buy my apartment? Fret fret fret...
A couple weeks ago, while sitting in my living room, I heard the shuffle of paper under my door. I scurried to get it, and saw the doom. My landlord was indeed raising my rent. My heart sank as I read the notice. My rent was going up $95 a month! Come August I'll pay $645 for a HUGE one bedroom. So big, that it could easily be a two bedroom! $95 month?! That's nothing!
My landlord deserves this ode for this... When I went to pay my rent last month, she opened the door with teary eyes. She apologized profusely for the increase, and said she agonized over it. She said it was the last thing in the world she wanted, but she had to raise it, just to cover the rising costs. How refreshing! Her tears and apology made me realize I am lucky to live in the place I do, even though I live in the quasi-ghetto.
I don't live in an Elvis song after all! Hurray!
smooches!
xoxoSallyt
Monday, May 14, 2007
Imagine My Horror
I am not a joiner. Let me clear that up right now. I don't join groups, or teams and I never have. It doesn't make me anti-social, I just loathe the idea of a company softball team, or a club of any sort. I have dabbled in that in the past, to tragic results. In fact, I joined a Scrabble club in Yellowknife once. I love the game, there was a club, I thought hey- this might be fun. Until I went to one "meeting" and some geek with ear hair and visible ear wax was the only one there. We played a couple games, he asked me how competitve I was with the game (not at all... I prefer the game with a few drinks, a joint and a few good friends), and then he re-arranged my letters to make better words. To thwart him, and to ensure I was never invited back, I blocked all the triple word score squares. Indeed, I was never asked back.
So imagine my horror with Corporate Challenge. I am the organizer of this for my work. In a nutshell, Corporate Challenge is when dozens of companies enter dozens of sports. This project has me stumped. I don't give a flying fig about these sports, yet I have to entice people to play. I have to make sure there is spirit and enthusiasm, yet I have none.
I went to a meeting last week, and it hit me why I loathe this project. Everyone there was the grown-up version of the people I loathed in high school. See, I hated high school. I hardly went, I spent my time smoking on the side of the building, or at the malls. I didn't join a team, a club or committee. I kept myself at arms-length from everyone and I liked it that way. The kids who joined everything and brimmed with excitement over sports and cheered for seemingly nothing annoyed me. And they still do, as 30 year olds. The room was full of the kind of people I loathed in 1992. The organizer said the word basketball, and there was a roar of cheers. She said the word games and there was whooping. The crowd clapped and cheered and hurrayed everything. Why? What is to cheer about? Why all the whooping? It boggled me, not to mention bothered me.
In a couple weeks, it's the kickoff. I have to go to a luncheon where there will undoubtedly be cheering galore. The opening ceremonies barbecue is a couple days later, and it'll be a repeat performace. At least at the barbecue, there is a beer garden, but too little too late.
Don't get me wrong, I love camraderie and carousing. I just don't like organized sports. Or maybe I don't like the people associated with organized sports who act like it's 1992 and we're back at Prince Andrew High. At least now, I don't smoke and no one is in danger of having a lit cigarette thrown their way. And for the record, I apologize to anyone I may have hit. I've grown up a lot in the time since.
Begrudgingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
So imagine my horror with Corporate Challenge. I am the organizer of this for my work. In a nutshell, Corporate Challenge is when dozens of companies enter dozens of sports. This project has me stumped. I don't give a flying fig about these sports, yet I have to entice people to play. I have to make sure there is spirit and enthusiasm, yet I have none.
I went to a meeting last week, and it hit me why I loathe this project. Everyone there was the grown-up version of the people I loathed in high school. See, I hated high school. I hardly went, I spent my time smoking on the side of the building, or at the malls. I didn't join a team, a club or committee. I kept myself at arms-length from everyone and I liked it that way. The kids who joined everything and brimmed with excitement over sports and cheered for seemingly nothing annoyed me. And they still do, as 30 year olds. The room was full of the kind of people I loathed in 1992. The organizer said the word basketball, and there was a roar of cheers. She said the word games and there was whooping. The crowd clapped and cheered and hurrayed everything. Why? What is to cheer about? Why all the whooping? It boggled me, not to mention bothered me.
In a couple weeks, it's the kickoff. I have to go to a luncheon where there will undoubtedly be cheering galore. The opening ceremonies barbecue is a couple days later, and it'll be a repeat performace. At least at the barbecue, there is a beer garden, but too little too late.
Don't get me wrong, I love camraderie and carousing. I just don't like organized sports. Or maybe I don't like the people associated with organized sports who act like it's 1992 and we're back at Prince Andrew High. At least now, I don't smoke and no one is in danger of having a lit cigarette thrown their way. And for the record, I apologize to anyone I may have hit. I've grown up a lot in the time since.
Begrudgingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Friday, May 11, 2007
Hello, My Fans!
Thank you, sweet friends, for your words of encouragement of late. They, and you, mean more to me than you will ever know. Thank you for reading this pretty pink page, and thank you for telling me you like it.
When I started blogging, I did it simply to get my thoughts out of my head. I have a million of them, and this was my way of clearing my head, and spouting off on the absurdity of the world. I told a few people I had the blog, and then posted it on my Facebook page. And since then, I have gotten several messages from you saying you like my words. That makes my heart sing!
I got into journalism way back when as a way to write stories for a living. Foolish me didn't realize those stories came after years of slogging in the field, covering crime and crap. Now, I write for a living, but it's brochures and websites and not the things in my head. I wish I had a job where I could write creatively for a living. Hey now... that would make me a writer!!
That's my only desire from this life... to write as much as I can for a large audience. I have books in my head, complete with chapters and characters and plots! I have a children's book series in my head. I can see the characters as I write the tales. Maybe I will get my stories illustrated, and print them off myself for my little niece or nephew coming! I have short stories, and this blog, and words just spilling out of me all the time! If ONLY I had an avenue to get those words out and someone pay me for them!
Hmmm... I need a husband who will work to support us, while I write. I will keep a clean house and make supper and make sure he has clean underpants. But I will write and write and write. Are there any takers? Anyone? Anyone?! You'll be married to a future best-selling author! Anyone? No...? Okay. I figured as much.
But I thank you for your words of encouragement. Thank you for being my muse, my sounding board, and, most importantly, my audience.
Taking a Deep Bow,
xoxoSallyt
When I started blogging, I did it simply to get my thoughts out of my head. I have a million of them, and this was my way of clearing my head, and spouting off on the absurdity of the world. I told a few people I had the blog, and then posted it on my Facebook page. And since then, I have gotten several messages from you saying you like my words. That makes my heart sing!
I got into journalism way back when as a way to write stories for a living. Foolish me didn't realize those stories came after years of slogging in the field, covering crime and crap. Now, I write for a living, but it's brochures and websites and not the things in my head. I wish I had a job where I could write creatively for a living. Hey now... that would make me a writer!!
That's my only desire from this life... to write as much as I can for a large audience. I have books in my head, complete with chapters and characters and plots! I have a children's book series in my head. I can see the characters as I write the tales. Maybe I will get my stories illustrated, and print them off myself for my little niece or nephew coming! I have short stories, and this blog, and words just spilling out of me all the time! If ONLY I had an avenue to get those words out and someone pay me for them!
Hmmm... I need a husband who will work to support us, while I write. I will keep a clean house and make supper and make sure he has clean underpants. But I will write and write and write. Are there any takers? Anyone? Anyone?! You'll be married to a future best-selling author! Anyone? No...? Okay. I figured as much.
But I thank you for your words of encouragement. Thank you for being my muse, my sounding board, and, most importantly, my audience.
Taking a Deep Bow,
xoxoSallyt
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
I Have So Much Love
MY SISTER IS PREGNANT!'
Jane and Craig are expecting their first baby in December, and I am so excited to become an aunt! My dear friends have known this news since I came back from Abu Dhabi, but I am shouting it from the rooftops! My sister is going to be a mom! It was the best souvenir I could bring back from Abu Dhabi.
On my last Monday there, Jane woke up and was still not feeling right. She keeps a very close eye on her body, so she knew there was something amiss. We went for coffee, and she stopped and got a home pregnancy test. We came home, and she did her thing on the stick and we waited. She sent me to the bathroom to check for her, and sure enough, there was the pink dot. I closed the cap and calmly walked to the living room and said nothing. She raced past me, to the bathroom and saw the dot for herself. I will never forget her face that day. Ever. She started laughing and crying at the same time, she started jumping and hugging. She called Craig and he came home to be with her. In that one moment, I saw what true love and pure happiness is.
I have never been so full of love for something that isn't even born yet! That tiny little baby growing in Petite's tiny little body is loved so much already by the people around it.
To Jane and Craig, I promise to be a good aunt. I will love for and care for your baby. Will babysit and give you a break when you need it. I promise not to give you toys that make noise, but promise me this... do not call me "Aunt" or "Auntie" or any variation thereof. That's tacky.
Familially Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Strange Currencies
Summer is here in Edmonton. For the time being, at least. And with it brings a host of strange and annoying habits of my fellow city-dwellers.
On Sunday, the temperature broke the 20 degree mark, so I whipped open all my blinds and windows and my stale apartment breathed fresh air again. I sat on my patio to get some sun on my now-pale skin, since I lost any tan I got in Abu Dhabi. But I got roared back inside. I have a neighbour with a big motorbike who loves to rev it in the parkade. The motor reverberates in the parkade, and then in the alley and drowns out all coversations going on in my head. Do you think I can get away with poring a bit of sugar in his gas tank? I'd like to.
Then yesterday, I was walking home, and I saw a homeless man in the middle of the road. Seriously, in the middle of an intersection on one of the busiest streets in the city. He had a cart full of cans and his life. He was struggling to put a shirt on in the middle of the road. Cars would inch past him, no one honked, and no one was trying to get him off the road. I shouted at him that he would get hurt but he drunkenly gave me the finger. But he was so drunk he pointed the finger in the opposite direction. I turned back after I crossed the street, and a man had grabbed his cart and shuffled him to the sidewalk. I've seen things similar to that before, but to see him weaving in the middle of the road was a bit strange.
Welcome, sweet friends, to the world of blogs Ms. Candie B-A. My best friend of 14 years (we met when we were 10) started her blog. Ch-check it out at www.oksothisisthedeal.blogspot.com. She is funny and talented and smart and you will love her world. I do.
On the not-so-strange front.. I have two stories written for the Slam-Off next week! Two! I am putting the finishing touches on them, and will decide soon which one to read. Two stories! Yay!
Head-Shakingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
On Sunday, the temperature broke the 20 degree mark, so I whipped open all my blinds and windows and my stale apartment breathed fresh air again. I sat on my patio to get some sun on my now-pale skin, since I lost any tan I got in Abu Dhabi. But I got roared back inside. I have a neighbour with a big motorbike who loves to rev it in the parkade. The motor reverberates in the parkade, and then in the alley and drowns out all coversations going on in my head. Do you think I can get away with poring a bit of sugar in his gas tank? I'd like to.
Then yesterday, I was walking home, and I saw a homeless man in the middle of the road. Seriously, in the middle of an intersection on one of the busiest streets in the city. He had a cart full of cans and his life. He was struggling to put a shirt on in the middle of the road. Cars would inch past him, no one honked, and no one was trying to get him off the road. I shouted at him that he would get hurt but he drunkenly gave me the finger. But he was so drunk he pointed the finger in the opposite direction. I turned back after I crossed the street, and a man had grabbed his cart and shuffled him to the sidewalk. I've seen things similar to that before, but to see him weaving in the middle of the road was a bit strange.
Welcome, sweet friends, to the world of blogs Ms. Candie B-A. My best friend of 14 years (we met when we were 10) started her blog. Ch-check it out at www.oksothisisthedeal.blogspot.com. She is funny and talented and smart and you will love her world. I do.
On the not-so-strange front.. I have two stories written for the Slam-Off next week! Two! I am putting the finishing touches on them, and will decide soon which one to read. Two stories! Yay!
Head-Shakingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Friday, May 4, 2007
Writers Block!!!
Ugh! I am suffering from a case of writers block. Sever case, in fact. I have a big story writers thing coming up, and I need to wow the crowd with my words. But I have no words right now.
I go to this thing every third Wednesday called Story Slam. Writers from around the city gather and have 5 minutes to read a short story in front of the corwd. You're judged, graded, and given points. I have won three times already. And I'm not going to lie, folks, I love winning!
So on May 16th, it's the Slam Off, where all winners from the past year read their best work. It has to be original. I have some ideas, but nothing is coming to mind.
I like to write stories in the vein of David Sedaris. I take something that has happened in my life and blow it up into comedic proportions. Lots of crazy things have happened in my life, and I have no qualms about writing about them. But my well of ideas has dried up for the time being.
This is how I write... I walk. I walk around, and as I'm walking, usually the first paragraph comes into my head, and the rest of the story just tumbles into place. I'll walk around with a story in my head, and then one day, usually on my lunch break, I write my story. All the stories I write for Story Slam have been fermenting in my head for a week or so, and then I write them on my lunch on the day of the contest. But Slam Off is a big deal! I just can't let the stories mull in my head for a week. I have to start writing now! But when I do, nothing comes. Or if anything comes, it's cack.
I do have a story written already, about my desert safari. But I'm not sure it's the one I want to showcase at this event. I also have a collection of children's stories stored up, but that's not the proper venue for my children's tales. I need something funny, something innovative, something that has hidden layers, something with a delicate play on words, I need a grip!!
Thank you for allowing me to vent. I'll let you know how it all goes. Maybe someday, I will even publish a story right here on this pretty pink page.
Scribblingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
I go to this thing every third Wednesday called Story Slam. Writers from around the city gather and have 5 minutes to read a short story in front of the corwd. You're judged, graded, and given points. I have won three times already. And I'm not going to lie, folks, I love winning!
So on May 16th, it's the Slam Off, where all winners from the past year read their best work. It has to be original. I have some ideas, but nothing is coming to mind.
I like to write stories in the vein of David Sedaris. I take something that has happened in my life and blow it up into comedic proportions. Lots of crazy things have happened in my life, and I have no qualms about writing about them. But my well of ideas has dried up for the time being.
This is how I write... I walk. I walk around, and as I'm walking, usually the first paragraph comes into my head, and the rest of the story just tumbles into place. I'll walk around with a story in my head, and then one day, usually on my lunch break, I write my story. All the stories I write for Story Slam have been fermenting in my head for a week or so, and then I write them on my lunch on the day of the contest. But Slam Off is a big deal! I just can't let the stories mull in my head for a week. I have to start writing now! But when I do, nothing comes. Or if anything comes, it's cack.
I do have a story written already, about my desert safari. But I'm not sure it's the one I want to showcase at this event. I also have a collection of children's stories stored up, but that's not the proper venue for my children's tales. I need something funny, something innovative, something that has hidden layers, something with a delicate play on words, I need a grip!!
Thank you for allowing me to vent. I'll let you know how it all goes. Maybe someday, I will even publish a story right here on this pretty pink page.
Scribblingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
But I Didn't Do That Many Drugs!
I have a problem remembering some things. Candie is witness to my problem. I can remember recipes after reading them once, I kick ass at that Memory game, and I can recall who won what award for what role. But ask about my past and I just shrug my shoulders.
Every now and then, while talking with Candie, something will trigger us back to the strange days at ABC. That's Atlantic Baptist College for you uninitiated. And yes, I was there for 2.5 years. Those years sucked ass, and the only good thing to come out of it was a desire to want more from my life than a weak husband and a slew of children. Oh yeah, and my friendship with Candie. But I digress.
Anyway, something triggers a memory of ABC for Candie and she asks me if I remember when so-and-so did this and I said that. Huh? I usually do not. I honk "what" to her and wonder if I, indeed, ever threatened to throw someone into a field. I can't remember old friends who, at the time, meant the world to me. It's all a blur. And I was at Baptist College!! It's not like I had access to hard drugs there to erase my memory!
Which brings me to Facebook. Or what I like to call "Online Heroin". I love it. Love it, love it, love it! I have connected with old friends, lovers, and family. But every now and then, and it happened today, someone made a reference to something that apparently happened. It was from an old friend from high school (!) and I had no clue what she was talking about. None. When it comes to high school, the only thing I remember is hating every second. That's about it.
So I wonder... when I'm an old woman, will I tell my grandchildren how to make this zesty sauce I made once back in 2001, or will I be able to tell them about the woman I was? Thank god for blogs and journals!
Thoughtfully Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Every now and then, while talking with Candie, something will trigger us back to the strange days at ABC. That's Atlantic Baptist College for you uninitiated. And yes, I was there for 2.5 years. Those years sucked ass, and the only good thing to come out of it was a desire to want more from my life than a weak husband and a slew of children. Oh yeah, and my friendship with Candie. But I digress.
Anyway, something triggers a memory of ABC for Candie and she asks me if I remember when so-and-so did this and I said that. Huh? I usually do not. I honk "what" to her and wonder if I, indeed, ever threatened to throw someone into a field. I can't remember old friends who, at the time, meant the world to me. It's all a blur. And I was at Baptist College!! It's not like I had access to hard drugs there to erase my memory!
Which brings me to Facebook. Or what I like to call "Online Heroin". I love it. Love it, love it, love it! I have connected with old friends, lovers, and family. But every now and then, and it happened today, someone made a reference to something that apparently happened. It was from an old friend from high school (!) and I had no clue what she was talking about. None. When it comes to high school, the only thing I remember is hating every second. That's about it.
So I wonder... when I'm an old woman, will I tell my grandchildren how to make this zesty sauce I made once back in 2001, or will I be able to tell them about the woman I was? Thank god for blogs and journals!
Thoughtfully Yours,
xoxoSallyt
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