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Wednesday, May 31, 2006
The Good News Bees OR: Je suis un mogul du miel! I now own 10 shares in the Karo apiary. BEES! A new tier/hive is being installed tomorrow afternoon, and I'm heading up to the roof to watch. Yes, I'll be wearing the standard bee wrangler chapeau, although if I inherited my grandmother's bee-charmer tendencies, I may not need it. Two or three bees have followed people inside the office already, which has caused great panic among the hive investors. "Don't hurt them! Just--shoo them outside!" Picture a bunch of adults gently flapping one hand in the air to get the bees' attention, pointing to the front door with the other hand. Today's insight: Bees don't "get" sign language. Now we're waiting for them to visit the receptionist's flowers, whereupon we'll take same to the nearest exit and drop the bees off. Tune in tomorrow for more exciting bee tales.
This should be good. During last night's class we heard that the acting "showcase" will take place at the end of June, and that because of time constraints and the need to involve as many classes as possible, only four scenes from our class can be featured. With this news in mind, my classmates and I proceeded to perform our scenes one by one. Do I think I and my partner have a chance? Yes, but we're not a shoe-in. We already know at least two scenes that'll be chosen, because the acting involved is stellar. I and my partner, Mandie, have achieved some great moments, but our scene from "Agnes of God" still needs work. So, while it'd be nice to be part of the showcase, I won't be surprised if we're passed over. However, I will also admit to having the typical actorly lack of objectivity, in that if A.'s craphole scene gets chosen over ours, I will pop a cranial artery.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
What's the buzz? There I was, all vexed, as is my usual state during employee evaluation season, and be durned if this company didn't find a way to make me chuckle AGAIN. Because we own the building we work in, we're able to make use of all of it (except the bits we've rented to two other companies). So now we're raising honeybees in our new rooftop apiary. The bee whisperer among us is our computer technician, and when he was asking for investment capital earlier this month, I thought he wanted it for his country property, but no! I wonder if I could still invest. Money honey or vice-versa. Also, I must remember the Eddie Izzard line about being covered in bees. We're situated close enough to the river and a lot of backyard flower gardens, so the bees should be happy with the pollen situation. I LOVE BEES.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Sometimes I think they're a waste of money, my acting classes, that is, since I'm not all that talented and not exactly what you'd call photogenic. Then I remind myself that creativity is the point. The only point. Staying creative at all costs. Then I can gloss over the minor irritations (the rampant egos in class, the tedious one-upping of every conversation, the name-dropping, the snobbery of the "Casted Caste" towards the untouchable "Uncasteds," etc).
Funny how I don't think the riding lessons are a waste of money, even though the concussion has caused a noticeable setback in my confidence. Then I suppose they're not what you'd term creative, although the way I inevitably drop my inside rein on a collected turn has raised clutziness to an art form.
Woke up with a dog on my head this morning, proof that Piper has remembered how to get the morning routine going.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
I lived in a work of art for a week with some of my favourite people. Les and John's new house, built of cement and steel, is profoundly creative. The inhabitants become artworks themselves. Certainly Leslie and I, in our riotous caftans purchased at the store she calls "Cross Dress for Less" (in reality it's Ross--Dress for Less), were fabulous in stereo. I hope still that having me as a guest wasn't too much of a strain during a worrisome time--although perhaps I was a sufficient distraction. Speculated again on "grappa" as onomatopoeia, this time in the rhomboidal hot tub. Found olives stuffed with Thai chillies, ow goddammit HOT. Was delighted by Jordan and Noah's (the children's) imaginations and senses of humour. Still cannot digest broccoli or shiitake mushrooms in comfort, but did that stop me? Hell naw. Not surprised by how much I love Les, John and offspring more than ever, not at all.
It came to me yesterday, during the "corpse" pose in yoga: hope. Welcome back, you absconderous varlet.
Which reminds me of "varmint," a.k.a. Piper, who has been vacationing on Jean's farm until tomorrow, when I'll drive up after work to get her back. It's weird how much you can miss a dumb little dog. There've been occasional comments over the past two years that I should find another home for Piper, but each time I just want to shake the commenter and say, "Hey, look closer! Middle-aged and single! Tell you what, I'll give up the dog on the day you give up a kid, 'kay?"
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
In which cheaping out effectively bites us in the ass AGAIN: I don't get airlines, you know. I really don't. I'm flying to San José, but not directly, no. First I'm flying to Los Angeles, then to SJ--and herein is the ass-bite, a longer flight and an extra two hours in the trip. Now, if I'd chosen the usual flight, from Calgary to Denver to SJ, the flight would have cost $300 more, even though it's shorter. Go figger. On the way home I'm flying through Denver, and it's $250 less than the same route the other way, six days later. Ow, my head.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Off to Modesto in a day, the better to visit me beloved cuzzin Lester Polyester. It is a bittersweet visit, sweet because I adore Les and her family, and I get to see the house that Les and John had designed and built, an immense liveable vision that is finally finished, and of course, you know, CALIFORNIA after all. Bitter because John's health has taken a sudden and shocking turn for the worse, and I love that man. And while my middle name might as well be "contraindicated," I don't intend to force John to act as a host while I'm there. In fact, knowing John, it'll take Kevlar restraints to keep him from acting as host, so Les and I will have our work cut out.
Had a lovely Sunday barging in on Mother's Day activities at Jean and Tyke's farm. I brought an asparagus tart to the potluck dinner, which consisted of mostly vegetarian fare. Picture nori rolls with vegetables, some with surimi, some with seasoned omelet, a stir-fry with noodles, asparagus tart, and assorted pastries. Sort of your Franco-Sino-Nipponese menu. Jean and I also played with the horses and dogs and went for a lovely ride down to the lake. The world's luckiest dog, Piper, gets to stay with Jean and the farm dogs, i.e., the beings she worships, while I'm away.
The condensed visit to Edmonton on Friday consisted of 6 hours of tense, irritated driving (going to be late! on the way there, going to be late to pick up the dog! on the way home), without so much as a cup of Timbo's pretend coffee for solace either way, a brief visit and encouraging semi-lecture from my esteemed surgeon, and a blood test. The lecture part was expected, even welcomed. The encouragement was a warm surprise. Thanks, Dr. D.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Despite all my forgetfulness of late, I have never forgotten the following:
Baldwin was twenty-eight and severely depressed on the August day in 1985 when he told his wife not to expect him home till late. "I wanted to disappear," he said. "So the Golden Gate was the spot. I'd heard that the water just sweeps you under." On the bridge, Baldwin counted to ten and stayed frozen. He counted to ten again, then vaulted over. "I still see my hands coming off the railing," he said. As he crossed the chord in flight, Baldwin recalls, "I instantly realized that everything in my life that I'd thought was unfixable was totally fixable--except for having just jumped."
Laughs of the week:
1. Knitting Daiquiris, by Gail Armstrong.
2. Skot goes to Yakima.
O Edmonton, My Edmonton! I went to you last weekend, and now I must go back! Nay, not because I left my annotated script of "Agnes of God" in the condo of my mad auntie (although I really must pick that up), but because it is time for another trip to the bariatric clinic, featuring our favourite activity, the weigh-in! Only for you, my Edmonton, will I do this.
Why be happy? Here's why.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Though mostly non-violent, I reached the point yesterday where if I saw the words "walk the talk" one more time, some mofo was going to die. One of my coworkers, whom I call Lingo Boy, had asked me to write a case study for a company he used to work for. I said sure, just give me some details, point form. I get what looks like a stock listing, a page sprinkled with such initials as "CRM" and "CSR" and the standbys, ROI and FYI. And, don't you know, the IT team for this company really walks the...yeah. But do they touch base before converging in a 121 with a stakeholder? I asked Lingo if next time he could substitute lay terms for the initials. Oh, what's a lay term? Never mind, not important, but if you could write Customer Relationship Management in full just once, or Corporate Social Responsibility, that'd help.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
What We Have Learned in Life, Chapter XLVIII:
  1. Playing with Dad's butane lighter, saying swear words too close to an adult, and damaging household furniture in any way will definitely result in a spanking.
  2. For some reason, the world must always notice when you wear mismatched socks.
  3. Book-learned people can still be astoundingly small-minded about religion.
  4. Being in authority does not make you one.
  5. The moment you boast about conquering a demon, the ones you have not conquered will immediately reintroduce themselves.
  6. What's funny when you're drinking very rarely really is.
  7. If you've hurt someone's feelings, apologize at all costs and mean it. If they continue to act resentful, let them. It's no longer about what you did.
  8. Occasionally it's okay to let the phone ring. Alas, it is also addictive.
  9. Loving yourself may be impossible. Loving your own company isn't.
  10. You will buy at least one crockpot before you die.