The Daily EO: June 17th, 2012

You know the space between sleeping and waking?  The one where you can easily occupy when exhausted, but not totally comfortable?  Like perhaps in the car, or sleeping in a loud/bright area?  I spent about 1 1/2 hours there Sunday afternoon.

I was laying on a couch that was too short for me, while the rest of the house carried on with their business.  I brushed consciousness now and then and certainly slept for brief moments.  During this period I believed my two of my teeth were loose – very loose.  As an adult without traumatic injury, loosening teeth certainly indicated awful disease.   I came to with a start, relieved to find my all teeth solidly stuck in my mouth.

June 17th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:   Napping.  Lifelike dreams that are not real life.

The Daily EO: June 16th, 2012

I was distracted as I was on the phone while we sat at the corner of Strachan and King in Toronto.  So I was rather surprised when my husband opened the door and leapt out of the car.   Afterall, we were driving and turning right, and there seemed to be no reason for this.

He grabbed his camera from the back of the car, got back in, and thrust the camera into my hands – well, hand because the other one was busy holding my cell phone to my ear.  What is going on?  He directed my attention to across the street, and a large group of cyclists.  So?

Oh.  Oh My!

Well, okay. Whatever floats your boat.

It was a case of not seeing the trees for the forest.

June 16th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  World Naked Bike Ride coming through.  Doesn’t that chafe?

 

The Daily EO: June 15th, 2012

Sorry for the delay, I was without a computer since Saturday (travelling).  Writing on my smartphone is like using a stick in the sand.  Slow and hard to read.

Friday was busy.  Due to our flood.  Nay, our trickle, or perhaps our moistening is a better term.  Nonetheless, the our landlord contacted insurance and disaster clean-up as the damage was done.  They responded quickly and by 10:30 am, I showered (at a friend’s house as water was off here), picked up a key for the storage locker, co-ordinating the stuff to be moved out, and agreeing to bring dessert for dinner out that night.

By 10:30 am, Emile had been at work for 2 1/2 hours needing to tie up all loose ends that day.  After all, it had arrived – his final day with the company.

At about 11:30 am, I was standing downstairs with my friendly landlord discussing whether the laminate flooring in the basement should be replaced with laminate or perhaps Berber carpet for warmth.  We were undecided but leaning towards the carpet.  The disaster clean-up team was moving boxes/furniture out, starting the ripping out process, and their equipment was all over the front porch.   The entranceway was filled with furniture and items that were not leaving, but just pushed out-of-the-way for ease of passage.

The doorbell rang.

A friendly looking fellow was standing there.  He said “We were just driving by and saw your sign, would this be a good time to look at the house?”.  We stared as him, somewhat dumbfounded – not because he wanted to see the house – but because after weeks of everything being just so, the house was not exactly show ready.  Well, never turn down a showing – and this way, they could see the work being done professionally.

Deb & Glen toured the house and were unfazed by the mess (“One time when were selling a house, we had a flood AND I was 9 months pregnant”).  They loved the place, and stayed as long as they could until they had to get to their next showing.  I casually invited them back if they wanted a second look in the afternoon, and off they went.  We forgot to even get their phone number.

That afternoon, I started making Strawberry Cake and Blueberry Muffin Cookies for dessert that evening.  Try to make dessert without water and see how that goes for you.   I was coated in butter, sugar, floor and the kitchen was completed covered in dirty dishes.

The doorbell rang.

Deb & Glen wanted to see the place again.  This time, the basement was cleared up – the crew was gone, the floor ripped up and the furniture all placed back.  But now the kitchen was a mess and I wasn’t the cleanest either.  I let them have run of the place – afterall, if this was a scheme to steal our stuff, they deserved it after executing the perfect plan.

They wandered around, discussing rooms, asking questions and I baked a cake.  This time, I remembered to get their number so we could follow up later.

June 15th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Less than 24 hours after showing up unexpectedly, Deb & Glen entered a verbal offer (no conditions) on the house.  What is the point of doing all that cleaning?

AND:  Emile finished his contract and is ready for our next adventure.  I’m proud of how professionally and well he worked to set up robust systems that needed little support.  And with little to no direction from headquarters.  If you need a Systems Manager, Emile is one of the best.

The Daily EO: June 14th, 2012

About 8 pm on June 14th, I was going to write the June 14th EO.  I had my EO decided, and I had the time to write – and most importantly, I felt like writing it.  However, I try to publish one EO each day – except when I am late – so you get a daily dose.  You, know, “Daily EO”.  So I decided to put it off until June 15th morning.

I had a great thing to tell you about:  Postcrossing.  Harkening back to your days in grade school, Postcross has improved upon and merged the antique and annoying chain letters with pen pals.  It works like this.  I register at their site, request an address (or 2 or 3) and then send postcards to the address.  When the recipient gets the card, he takes the Postcross ID number off the card and enters it on the website.  I then get “credit” for sending a card and my address will now show up when someone else requests a postcard.  On your profile, you can state what kind of postcards you like, or stamps, or what you want to know about.  If you want to correspond with your Postcross recipient, you obviously can, or you can just have a brief contact.

To date, there have been 12 million postcard sent and there are currently ~370,000 postcards in transit.  It certainly seems to have to transcended the fizzling out effect in chain letters.  I like the idea of touching someone’s life briefly across the world.  Not one to do anything small, I requested 5 addresses (the max I can have at the beginning) and had addresses from Finland, Russia, USA, Hong Kong and The Netherlands.  Despite the lack of postcard selection in Huntsville and the $1.80 cost to send the card, I am happy with today’s activity.  I am so excited to receive my postcards when they do come.

But, that is the EO runnerup.  You never know what is going to happen.

Last evening, Emile was at poker night.  I spent the evening reading and watching West Wing episodes.  Our cat – who normally wants nothing more than a warm body to curl up with – was on patrol in the basement.  Beavis is quite an accomplished and patient mouse killer.  Despite his front claw removal, he catches quite a few.  Then he bats them around for a torturous couple of hours.  The mouse eventually dies of terror and exhaustion.  But if there is a mouse in the house, Beavis lets us know.  Instead of retiring for the evening, he parks himself in the mouse area and waits.  For hours.  In the morning, he eats his breakfast, and then sleeps the day away after his night shift.

So, when Beavis starts the patrol, we know we have a mouse somewhere.   Given that our house is for sale, we put down traps right away.  Last thing you need is a mouse running through during a showing.  Now, I don’t mind mice – I don’t really want to share my house with them – but they don’t scare me that much.  However, I don’t like dead things – and Emile being less squeamish than me, is the trap checker and resetter.

We live in a 3 bedroom house – it’s a two-story with a rec room, 3rd bedroom, powder room, and laundry room in the basement.  The main entrance is through the basement.  Because of the temporary nature of our living arrangements, 1/2 of our furniture and things were not unpacked.  Instead, we furnished the upstairs and then filled the 3rd bedroom and rec room with the extra furniture, belongings, etc.  Essentially, the basement is used only for entrance, laundry and storage, and I rarely go downstairs unless I need something from the boxes (maybe a couple times a month).

Emile arrived home from poker about 11:30 pm.  He was tired and nearing the end of a long week at work (his last week).  He was going to make his way up stairs (to where we generally live), but remembered he needed to check the trap in the rec room that he put down.   And reset it if necessary.

Emile found the trap in a puddle of water.  He thought at first that Beavis was so intent in catching the mouse that he used the floor as his toilet.  But that is unlike Beavis and it certainly didn’t carry the familiar scent.  Emile called me down to look at it, and we quickly discovered that the rec room didn’t just have a small puddle of water – it was saturated along the edges of the room – floor and walls.

We pulled all of our things out of the wet area, and found that although the damage to the walls and floor is extensive (it will all have to be replaced), our furniture was only superficially wet.  The only thing of concern was the leaves for our dining room table (Mom!  BREATHE! They are okay after being dried off this morning).   Rob (our friendly landlord) came over right away, and we got all the furniture up on foam pieces, dried off everything, and in general found the damage seemed limited to the house itself.

If we didn’t have mice, Beavis wouldn’t have let us know.  If the house wasn’t listed, we may have let Beavis have his mouse fun for a couple days.  If Emile wasn’t the reliable sort he is, he may have waited to check the trap.  If Emile didn’t enter that room, the water would have been undetected for several days (we are going to be away this weekend also).  If the water was unnoticed for several days, then our boxes and wooden furniture would have sustained damage.  If unnoticed, the open house scheduled on Sunday would have likely not garnered too many offers as viewers trudged through water.

June 14th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  With a nail, the kingdom was saved.

June 14th, 2012 Runner-up:  Sending Postcards!!

 

The Daily EO: June 13th, 2012

I hate my toaster.  It’s okay to hate things – just not people.  I guess I don’t hate it, as I would have replaced it before now if I truly hated it.  I dislike it a lot.  It is a 2-slice stainless steel KitchenAid toaster that I ordered from Sears.  I did not see the toasted in person before purchase, so I cannot be totally faulted for having bad taste.  When the toaster arrived – I was certain they sent us the 4-slice one because it is so big.  I am sure some people would love the hefty slots and the beefy, manly appearance.  I do not.  It also doesn’t always engage when I press down on the tab.  I hate that.

On the other hand, I love my kettle.  It’s a Breville stainless steel electric 1.8 liter kettle that is simple (No, I do not need to control the water temperature).  It boils water quickly and has a lovely blue glow when it is on.  Do you think in 10 years that stainless steel is going to be out?  Will it be the “avocado” of the seventies?  I think it may.  Anyways, I also bought this kettle from Sears and I am pretty happy with it.

Our microwave is weird.  It came with the house, so I cannot be blamed – we sold our built-in over-the-oven microwave with our house.  It is quite attractive – stainless steel again – and has a quick start button and preprogrammed food buttons.  But it is disturbing.  For some reason when the microwave finishes, the fan keeps going.  So, even if you have retrieved your reheated leftovers or warmed up tea, the microwave still sounds like it is running.  Now, this seems quite reasonable to me – it’s like your interior car lights staying on for 10 seconds after you turn off the car.  But it stays on for a while.  A long while.  Every now and then, you find yourself suddenly jerking up and running over to the microwave because you think you have left your food to heat to record temperatures.   But it is not really running.  It’s weird.

I almost bought a new toaster at Sears about 2 months ago.  I had a gift card from my grandma and it was on sale and it was a Breville one that matches my kettle.  Why didn’t I?  Well, we were in the deep throes of Fit April and eating little to no bread.  So, buying a replacement appliance for something that is working 95% of the time and we aren’t using it 95% of the time seemed a waste of resources.  The KitchenAid one is just fine.   Until now.

One of my favorite food is a toasted 1/2 Dream Bagel (high fibre and protein) with 1/2 ounce of extra old white cheddar cheese.  It comes in at 125 calories and is a huge protein, fibre and energy source for me.  I eat it at least once a day.  (Please note, the toaster’s wide slots overwhelm my poor little bagel).  I cut my bagel and slipped it into the toaster.  But the toaster would not engage.  Again.  Again.  Again.  Stupid toaster.  I want my bagel!

June 13th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Did you know you can toast a bagel half by placing it on a ceramic stove top element and turning the heat to medium high?  It burns a bit and stays cool on the rounded side, but boy does it toast fast.

 

 

The Daily EO: June 12th, 2012

The Independent (“Promising you low prices”) recently tricked me into purchasing a bag of sweet cherries.  They put the cherries in their flyer – with no price – and then put the cherries on the end of a row – with no price.  Both of these actions made me believe the cherries were on sale.  But they were not.  The cherries cost me $8.99.  Gasp.

I’ve been telling people this story and pretending that I didn’t notice the cost until I was at home.  But that is not true.  I noticed when they were rung in.  And for some reason – be it social pressure, fear of looking cheap or a pulsing desire for cherries – I didn’t say “No, Thank You”.   Shame.

This bag of cherries was the same size that I previous purchased at Fresh Co. the week before for $3.99.  So, with the trickery and memory of the previous purchase, I ended up with another bag.  I told Emile the cost, but he did not seem to like the $8.99 any more than the $3.99.

I sat down with a book, the bottom half of the pricey cherries and a pit bowl.  My fingers skimmed across each cherry – looking for the smoothest, firmest and sweetest cherry to savour.  To often, my fingers skipped to the next one.  And I found myself staring into a bag of fruit that while edible, had lost its peakness.  I’ll be damned if I don’t enjoy every single one of these cherries, so I started considering options – jam or baking.  Not enough for jam, so baking it is.

I found a great recipe and started off.

When I was a kid, I grew up near the Okanogan Valley and Creston, BC.  These two places were – and still are presumably – is where you got your fruit.  Strawberries, peaches, cherries, nectarines, grapes, apples, raspberries.  Every year we’d have fresh fruit so sweet and warm and often delivered by my grandfather.  I remember my little brother eating cherries until his face was purple and he couldn’t spend too much time away from the bathroom. I remember BC MacIntosh apples in the fall – that we kept on the porch.  So sweet, so small, so crunchy.  No matter where I get apples now, none compares.

I’d make jams with my mom.  And I loved using her strawberry huller and cherry pitter.  Vintage now, they were simple metal tools that easily did what you needed them to.  And I missed that hand-held cherry pitter today.

I sliced each cherry with a knife and then picked out the pit with my thumb nail.  Over and over again.  My determination did not waver.  Every single one of these cherries would be used.

I made three little cherry crumble ramekins – one for me, one for Emile and one for our guest Jefferson.

June 12, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Perfect Cherry Crumbles.  Purple fingers.

 

The Daily EO: June 11th, 2012

A couple of days ago, my husband and I were having a rare lunch out.  I ordered a “Goddess Salad”, chock full of leafy green things, roasted veggies and feta cheese.  After completing my meal, I sat and sipped at my decaf chai tea with cream and sweetener (yeah, it’s weird, but it’s awesome).  I did a “teeth check” with my husband.  You know you all do it – pull back those lips and grin like a maniac to see so your companion can see if there are any stray food bits lingering in your teeth.

He told me I had a “white piece” and a “brown piece” caught in my teeth.  I used my tongue to probe and push, but despite my best efforts, Emile kept telling me the “brown piece” was still stuck on the right of my right front tooth.  I gave up sitting and headed to the bathroom for some serious intervention.

I’ll interject here, and tell you that I hate going to the dentist.  Yes, I know this doesn’t make me unique.  My mother made sure that I had good dental health as a child.  She didn’t seem to care that I hating the scraping, the probing, the needles, the drilling and everything else.  Later in life I have begun to also hate the cost (though covered with insurance most of my life), the inane small talk while my anxiety level rises, the ridiculous “safety glasses” (these are cheap sunglasses – you cannot fool me) and conversation while you are frozen or having 15 instruments in my mouth.  You’d think I’d have gotten used to it by now – 3 retainers, braces, probably 20 cavities/fillings, pulled teeth, filing, etc, etc.  But the dentist still fills me with dread.  It’s the freezing process that is the worse – going in and coming out.  I haven’t seen a needle in decades – because as soon as I get in the chair I keep my eyes closed until they start actually doing the work.  There is a note on my file that says “do not talk to patient after local in”.  Love it.

I always think of two things while in the chair getting freezing:  a torture scene in Alias where Jennifer Garner’s friend is tortured by a crazy man using a dentist drill/tooth puller until the friend gave up info he didn’t actually know.  The other is my friend Judy J who hates freezing so much that she endured having 6 veneers placed on her teeth WITHOUT it.  (having veneers done requires significant prep work to the tooth – including filing and drilling.  What a spine she has.)  I deal with the freezing because I consider these alternatives much worse.

In my adult life, I have learned about the glories of flossing and the pain and suffering that it avoids.  Frankly, whoever invented those one-handed flossers deserves recognition.  Now I can simultaneously floss and read before bed.  Now the dentist tells me that I have “tough gums” and they there is no more cavities, fillings, bleeding or lectures.  I sure wish my mother had told me about this when I was a child.

Even with Emile’s benefits running out this Friday and my desire take as much from his company as possible, I have avoided the dentist.  I drink a glass of water and my teeth ache, I still avoid making an appointment.  Logical considerations about dental health being part of overall health did not sway me.

But when I looked in the mirror at that restaurant and saw that the “brown piece” was actually a 20-year-old white filling that had finally discoloured enough that it was quite noticeable, I made the appointment.

June 11th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Vanity wins out every time.  And as wait to feel my nose again, I know I don’t need to go back for 9 months – if I need to of course.  Please don’t talk to me.

 

The Daily EO: June 10th, 2012

Goals:  Emile:  29:53 Minutes     Susan:  34:25 Minutes

You should know I walked up that first hill.  My adrenaline was pumping, my stomach was twisting, and I needed to try to calm down.  So, I started out running, but walked the steepest part.  I was passed by a man portaging a canoe, but I felt no shame.  As I was being strategic – saving myself for the end.    Watch out, Canoe Head.  I’ll be coming for you.

At the top of the short but steep hill, I started running.  I was able to run the next 1 km, but it was all generally uphill.   At this point, I was questioning “Why do I do this?”.  I could easily put $50 into something else.  But if I could just make it to the 2.5 km mark, the race got easier from there.  I stopped and walked briskly for 10 seconds.  I started running again.   I  walked again.  There was someone I knew at the corner, I started running again.  Gave a high-five to the kid at the corner – made his day.

And that was a general summary of my race today – running quickly, walking quickly, running, walking.  Running, Walking.

Emile and I did not start out at the same place on the race today – I didn’t want to be distracted by him or what he was doing.  But, our racing styles are completely different – and completely reflect the way we face the world.  Emile doesn’t worry or plan for all contingencies.  He starts and keeps running until complete.  No fuss.  A solid and steady pace from beginning to end.  I, however, plan, think, and strategize every step of the race.  I concern myself with how I should handle everything.  I need to have music and sunglasses.  I get nervous, I fuss.  But when I run, I run fast.  Faster than Emile.  But I also stop and walk because I can’t run 5 km at that speed.

I didn’t feel very good running this race – I felt slow, sticky, tired.  But I kept going – but really what was the alternative?  Was I just going to lay down on the road and await a medic?  You just keep going despite your mind wondering why your lungs and legs hurt.  When I crossed the finish line, I forgot to look at my timer, and forgot to look up at the race timer.  I was just so glad to be finished.  Why do I do this?  Get me some water.

After minutes of recovery, I started wondering about my time. Here is the before and after Emile checking the chip times:


June 10th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Personal Best for both of us, wife of the 40-49 Male division Winner.  I’ll never hear the end of this.

Emile Results:
Time: 25:26  (personal best, and -4:28 from target)
Overall Finish:  9th (OMG!!!)
Gender Finish:  5th (OMG!!)
Category Finish: 1st (with a medal and ceremony to prove it)

Susan Results:
Time:  30:39 (personal best and -3:46 from target)
Overall Finish:  33rd (!!)
Gender Finish:  22nd (!!)
Category Finish:  8th (OMG!!)

The Daily EO: June 9th, 2012

I get nervous about lots of things.  I don’t like to make mistakes.  Which is funny because if you asked anyone – most think I am bold and brave.  I’m not really – it’s just bravado.

I couldn’t sleep last night worrying about our race the next day (Band On the Run – 5 km).  What if I don’t get enough sleep?  What if I can’t handle the hills?  This is a much harder race than the Chocolate Race. (we burned 300 calories just walking the race route)  What if I don’t hydrate enough?  What if I hydrate too much?  Should I run or walk up the hardest hill right at the beginning?  What if I can’t handle it?  What if it rains?  So I lay in bed, counting down how many hours of sleep I might get if I go to sleep right now.

But here I am the morning of, up, hydrated, eaten, and listening to my husband update his FaceBook about his “wife going to do great”.  Now he’s proclaimed it.  I’d better do it.

June 9th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Being stupidly nervous about things that just get worse when you get nervous about them.  Don’t you think I know that?

The Daily EO: June 8th, 2012

Late one night I was driving home from a 12 hour shift from work to my house in Midland.  I was tired, but my pockets heavy with tips.  My trip was about 20 minutes and required me to travel on Highway 400 and Highway 12.  Highway 400 runs from Toronto to Parry Sound and has 4 lanes with exits with huge overpasses, etc.  Highway 12 is smaller with only 2 lanes and if you want off, you just turn.  I started our on Highway 400 at my usual 110 km/hour.

Shortly after departure, the car started making a weird noise – kind of like a grocery cart with a wonky wheel.   I slowed a bit, but other than the noise, all seemed okay.

I hate to contribute to the cliché of females being car ignorant, but unfortunately I must admit I am not particularly car knowledgable.  I own a 2007 Honda Fit with standard transmission – good on gas and fun to drive.  I am a pretty good driver, I like to drive and I like to drive fast.  Emile taught me the four strokes (intake, compression, um .. .  power, and exhaust) against my protests.  I know enough – keep it filled with gas, oil and wiper fluid; how to change a tire (thanks mom and Emile) and that when it starts making weird noises, listen.

I pulled over to the side of the road to examine the tires.  All four were fully inflated, no sticks in the wheel well, nothing looking out of the ordinary.  Hmmm.  Well, carry on then.  I called Emile to get him to listen to the noise over the cell phone.  Shockingly, he could not identify it.  He told me to come on home, but to drive a little more slowly.  By then I was on Highway 12, so I slowed and counted the minutes until I would get home.

Well, I should have pulled over.  I should have listened to my gut.  Because soon after the call, my front driver’s side wheel came off, leaving me to drive my car with only 3 wheels.  I am pretty proud of how well I drove that night to get the vehicle back under control and quickly to the side of the road.   Nobody was hurt, people stopped to help me and we even were able to find the seemingly perfect wheel in the tall grass.

You all know the rest of the story:  call home, call a tow truck, insurance claim, lengthy repairs, police investigation (as there was no physical reason that could be found as to why my wheel come off, they suspected mischief), etc.  I am thankful I had come of Highway 400, I had slowed down and that the wheel didn’t cause any injury to any other vehicle on the road.

Today I went for a run.  I tend to take my car to drive to a starting point because our street has lots of speedy traffic and limited shoulders.  I parked, hid my keys and headed out.  2 km out, 2 km back (record pace again!).  As I rounded the last bend, I noticed I’d left my lights on.  No matter, I can now run 4 km in 23 minutes.  Surely my battery can handle that.  No, apparently not.  I was a 3 minute walk from home, but what a pain.  Sigh.

I called Emile to confirm it was the battery (not the alternator, starter, etc) based on the noises when I turned the key (the guy really needs to get better at cell phone diagnosis).  He told me to turn everything off and let the battery rest.  Let the battery rest?  What kind of stupid advice is that?  Seriously man – the battery is just going to spontaneously re-energize?  Well, I guess I’ll call a friend for a boost.   Thanks a lot.  Honestly, like I’ll just sit here for 3 minutes and then miraculously turn the key and the car will start. . . Oh.  Well. . . look at that.

June 8th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Batteries apparently need rest.  Emile’s advice is pretty sound.