When Fluffy Flakes Fill the Sky

Blustery days and nights have been abound in Bruce County. We are weathered drivers ready to take on snow covered roads and face white outs.

Well, most of us are.

There I was, driving along the county road as flakes were making their way to the ground on the crisp night. The roads were not too slick, but slick enough to keep me well paced.

It's not so bad, I thought, as I slowed down for the village ahead. Warm windows glowed along the side of the road, revealing families inside safe and warm. I picked up the pace as I left the village.

Suddenly I was surrounded by snow - I didn't know where it came from. I took my foot off the gas and gripped the wheel.

Just breathe...

Sure, I didn't know where the shoulder was, or if I was in my lane, but, I thought, as least I know where I am. I know this road like the back of my hand. I am just past Lucknow....

Oh God. Wait. I felt like I was suckerpunched. I haven't gotten to Lucknow yet. Where in the F am I!?!? I can't see anything but white and I don't know where I am!!

I couldn't even breathe.

I started to talk to myself out loud. "Don't panic, don't panic. Where did I just drive through?" I drew a blank. Hollyrood. "Hollyrood. I just drove through Hollyrood. I know where I am."

Thank God this road is straight.

"Ok, think Melissa. Think of this road. Where are you on this road?" I felt the car go up an incline. I caught my breath. "You are going up this hill, and there is the house on the left, you'll go back down the hill, the road is straight."

The wall of white was lifting. I couldn't see the house on the left. My mind started to scream again WHERE AM I!?!?

Still creeping forward, I felt the car go up another incline. The snow was dissipating. I saw the house I thought was a hundred meters back. My shoulders fell, the constricted feeling in my chest subsided.

I drove out of the white out. Barely a flake was in the air. I could see the lights of Lucknow farther up the road. I could see the stars in the sky.

Winter driving sucks.

What you talkin' 'bout Willis?

I like to toot my own horn every now and then. Who doesn't? I am a woman of many capabilities, I can handle the pressure, the stress, the hundred projects thrown at me all at once. I am, however, a realist to a certain degree, and admit to a few faults.

Such as multitasking while driving. This I can not do. (Which, in my mind, is a good thing. Driving should demand all your attention, after all, you're steering a tonne of metal.) I can not eat and drive. I can not change cd's and drive. I can not text and drive. I can not talk on my cell phone and drive. I can not apply makeup and drive. I can not read the newspaper and drive.

Ok. I exaggerate. I CAN do these things at the same time, just not very well. (Or in the matter of reading the newspaper and driving, I CHOOSE not to do that. I feel no explanation is necessary here.)

I blame part of the inability upon the fact that I drive a stick shift. Unless I'm cruising down the highway and don't need to change gears at all, I'm left with no hand to either steer or change gears if I'm mid-multitasking. Sometimes an extra arm wouldn't be such a bad thing. Holding that phone up to my ear while sitting at a red light is ok until the light turns green. Then all of a sudden, what arm am I going to use to change gear? I have to excuse myself from the conversation so I can shift up to the appropriate gear. That's a bit rude to the person on the other end, I feel.

So I am an advocate of not talking on the phone while driving. I am perfectly aware that it is legal to do so in this fine province of Ontario, but I like to believe that there are some folks on my side here. Maybe even perhaps some men and women in blue.

How annoyed do you get by drivers swerving on the road, by drivers who sit too long at the green light, by drivers who are clearly not paying attention to the road and their surroundings? How much more are you annoyed when you drive past them only to see them yakking away on their cell phone??

In case you hadn't guessed, I get really annoyed.

The top of the list was blown off the other week when there was a driver up ahead of me who driving slow, veering into the lane I was coming up along. The car was no other than a police cruiser. We pulled up to a red light, our cars side by side. I looked over at the driver and what did I see? Officer Talks-A-Lot on his cell phone. Hmmm....likely not police business, after all, would not they contact him on the cb radio??

Rx for Technology

So I finally got myself a doctor. After all these years of going to the walk in clinics. How nice.

While I was there, I decided to ask her about the bruise I have on my shin. Sure, you're thinking, it's a bruise, what's the big deal?

Well...because it has been about a year since I fell down the stairs - or rather, slid down the cement and steel stairs on my shins. That's an awful long time to have a bruise.

This is what she said to me:

"Oh, well, it is likely a haematoma. Just look it up on the internet."

And then she progressed with taking my blood pressure.

So nice to finally have a doctor of my own who is concerned for my health and wellbeing, and making sure I understand.

Maybe I'm better off at the clinic.

Another "Dearest Blog" Blog

Dear Blog,

I just don't know what I have been thinking lately. I mean, such neglect!! I feel such a passion for writing, and I owe it all to you, blog!! Yet, here I am, living my life and not recording the funny finer moments.

Someone needs to reprimand me for it.

Sincerely,
Melissa

Say what!?!?

Do you want to know what I have realised?

That when I am out in public, listening to my iPod, the random and multiple thoughts that I have are often not kept in my head. I find myself muttering out loud, not realising what I am doing. The music in my ears fills all I can hear. I get quirky looks from the people around me, and as realisation sinks in, my expression changes to that "oh crap" kind of look. Then I smile like a goof in an attempt to redeem myself as a sane person, as a person who does not usually talk to herself like that in public.

But no....I think maybe they think I'm crazy.

And next...the world!

I felt a little like Carrie did when she finally got her book. Excitement pulsed through me, and I squealed at my desk. I couldn't believe it had happened!!

It was less than a month ago that I had decided to make a serious move about my love of writing. I thought to myself...."Self, you should become a freelance writer." So I answered, "Okey doke, smoke. I'll do that."

I put together a few pieces, sent them out.....and got a raving response!!!! I couldn't believe it! Sweet maria!! My silly little piece about the day I killed a fish while fishing is going to be published! Yippy!!

Soooo.....away I go! Freelance writer extraordinaire!

I'll keep you posted ;)

Plenty of....ummm....eek.

These online dating sites seem to have taught me a few things.

1. Guys really don't get my sense of humour. Rather, they misunderstand my sarcasm and take offence and do not speak with me further. I say suck it up buttercup!!! I was kidding! Sheesh....and yet they crack jokes and expect it should not be an issue for me. Which it's not. I like jokes. The giving and the getting. What babies. (hahah!)

2. Those black men sure don't hold back on the compliments! Woo woo, talk about boosting your self esteem when you get a flood of messages from fine black men telling you that you are beautiful! Made me blush a little, tee hee....

3. That online dating is not for me. I actually agreed to meet one guy, who was nice and all, but he just wasn't for me. We had a drink, some conversation, and parted ways, no hard feelings. I'm quite sure he had similar feeling towards me. I'm not sure what got into me that day when I agreed to meet him, but I'm glad that I did. I felt good about stepping outside of my little box and doing something I usually would not do. As for meeting people otherwise, or even giving them my msn and really, telling them anything very personal, flags go flying about in my brain, STRANGER DANGER!!!!!! I guess it turns out that I am not interested in meeting perfect strangers after a brief encounter online. Carrying on conversations with guys for an extended period seems to bore guys, however, I am not game to meet up after chatting once or twice. I guess I have more patience. Or more caution, anyways, lol!! I'm not sure.

I think I'll try my luck elsewhere....yikes!

Oh right. And number 4. I have also learned that there are quite a few men in their 40's who think I should date them. I say....no thank you, sir. Have a nice day.

Facing my Foibles

It really is true. Facebook seems to have taken over my life. I come home from work, and the second thing I do (the first being to pee - isn't that the first thing everyone does??) is turn on my computer to check my facebook. It's been since, when, November that I've been an addicted facebook user? You would think that by now, I'd have this thing all figured out.

Until.......I am friend requested by a Roberto in Colombia. Not so bizarre when you realise that I have a step brother who lives there. I accept his friendship, and promptly write on his wall the lone Spanish sentence I can confidently say. That being the lone Spanish sentence I teased 12 year old Roberto with when I visited Colombia February last year.

"Donde esta el bano"

Where is the washroom.

He thought I was nuts that I kept saying it to him for the whole week. But we would laugh and bond over this regardless.

But then, the very next day after I accepted his friendship, I got another friend request from a Roberto in Colombia. Hmmm....how peculiar. I was a little confused. I clicked on my new friend Roberto's link to his page and look at the top (as he does not have a picture posted of himself). It said Birthday: 1959. Oh my. Clearly this is not 12 - wait, now 13 year old Roberto. Who did I just become friends with and flagrantly toss around my lone Spanish sentence with!?!?! I really don't know. I rack my memory. Brenda (aka stepmother) has a brother, was his name Roberto too? I think so. Was little Roberto's dad's name the same? I don't know! I've never met him, so why would he befriend me? But I don't think brother (ahem, who would technically by my step-uncle) is quite that old to be born in 59. Oy. I need to be more careful who I accept to be facebook friends with.

So now I am little leery to accept this second Roberto's friendship. What if it's not little step-bro Roberto? Sigh, what is a girl to do?

I'll tell you what a girl is to do. Send a flurry of an email to the other step bro who has reasonable English skills and humourously tell him this situation and ask for clarifications of Robertos. My goodness. I hope he is able to follow my ramble and help a sista out.

Sheesh. This whole facebook thing is crazy.

Handle with care

I had to think about a handle. Not about my little love handles. Not about the fact that I need to get a handle on my life. Nooooo....but a screen name, a user id, a "handle" that other users would know me by.

Oy.

I mean, I consider myself a fairly creative person and all, but I was stumped. Not only did I have to do that, but then I had to come up with a line, a pick up line, if you will, to pose to all the viewers out there.

That's right. A pick up line. I signed up on not one, but TWO online internet dating sites. (Ahem, the free ones....) All in the name of humour, really. What can it hurt? I might end up with some comedic conversation, and now I have an outlet to practise flirting.

Within moments of registering myself, I had messages popping up on my screen. Men who wanted to chat with me. They were sending me emails. They were winking at me.

I'm not going to lie to you. I was scared!!! I didn't know what to do!!!!!

So I shut my computer off.

And then I turned it back on. And logged in again.

I looked at the emails again, read the profiles of these potential courters. Some of them made me groan with the "eek, are you kidding me!?!?" while others made me laugh. I'd like to point out that not one made me feel giddy. Not that I was expecting to, but still, I just want you to know. I even answered to one, just for the hell of it.

On one site, I wrote my line as "This fish wants a bicycle" (yup, compliments to Heather over at This Fish). I'm just waiting for someone to clue into what I mean. It clearly does not mean I want to go fishing, as one gentleman was mistaken in thinking. Honestly. Women's lib? Anyone? Gloria Steinem? Irina Dunn?? C'mon......

Yeesh, how would Gloria and Irina feel about online dating sites? Oh dear, maybe I should unregister myself and throw the notion of a bicycle out the window.

Green Peace

The longer I dwell in the city, the more it seems that I crave the peace and quite of the country.

On a particularly glum day for me last week, I woke up early, put on my jeans and t-shirt, and got in my car. I did not put on my dress pants and blouse and ride the subway downtown, even though it was the middle of the week. No, I needed a moment's peace, and I knew exactly where I could find it. I pointed my car northwest and drove until the concrete disappeared behind me, and fields of green extended for kilometers upon kilometers.

What should have been a 2 1/2 hour drive home, found its way well past 3 hours.

When I was safely out of the city, away from the noise, traffic and smog, and I pulled my car over to the side of the road. The crunch of the gravel shoulder subsided as I rolled to a stop. Not another car in sight. I emerged from my car, and walked around the passenger's side. I sat down on the shoulder, and rested my head again the car door. Before me was a farm field as far as the eye could see. The wind blew gently, making the tall grasses bow and sway with a rhythm that was in sync with what my heart was looking for. The occasional car drove by, but I barely noticed. I stared out across the land, taking in deep breaths, closing my eyes from time to time. The sun was breaking through the clouds that were slowly dissipating, beaming down to warm my face.

This is peace. This is serenity. This is where I find my centre.

I stood up, took one last long look at the expansive meadow. The day seemed a bit brighter now; the drive before me less daunting. I knew now that I could make it.

I had found my green peace.

It never ends

When he says to me "I was thinking about you today..." I just want to bash my head on the wall and scream out "WHY, GOD, WHY!?!?"

Is it appropriate to say back to him "I thought about you 67584 times today..."??

Not likely. Damn.

Caught on Tape

As of late, my roomie dearest and I have been attending the film screenings for the upcoming Mississauga Independent Film Festival. This is what I have learned:

I do not get short film.

I sit in my seat, eyes fixated on the screen (mostly) with a quizzical look on my face. This quizzical expression screams out what is being repeated in my head "W...T....F...."

The most recent screening we went to, in which the theme was Funny, had a myriad of short films that left me stumped. True, I did find them funny and amusing, but it was more or less because I was a bit confused. I had missed the point of these films, and much to my relief, so had my roomie. Phew....

The highlight for me of the selection of the evening was a short called "Robo-Jew." Yes, that's right, Robo-Jew. I'll let your imagination work on that for a moment. Tick, tick, tick...time is up. What do you think it's about? A giant Jewish robot??? Why, yes, then, you are correct. The basis of this flick is that a giant sized Nazi woman is stomping all over the city, destroying people with her Nazi hating laser gaze and striking fists. The people are running around the streets, scared and screaming. A young Jewish man is seen, praying for someone to come and help them. Then duh-duh-duh-duuuuuhh, Robo-Jew hears the call and comes to the rescue! He rids her with his Star of David weapon and saves the day! Yay for Robo-Jew!!!

I honestly did not know if somewhere in there someone out there should be offended or not. I guess I should say no, since after all, I keep an action figure Jesus in the living room for my sheer amusement.

When the film was done, Jen and I turned to each other, baffled, we both opened our mouths to say something, but found ourselves speechless. Then we burst out laughing.

We had a similar reaction to the rest of the films that night. Hmmm....Maybe I need to introduce myself to these film making people and ask them if they can provide a Coles Notes booklet to me so I can get a little better direction. That's not too much to ask, is it?

I suppose the important thing is that I thought they were funny. So in essence, they served their purpose. Well done, film makers, well done!

The Subway: It just seems like the thing to write about

I know what I might sound like. A little snotty, a little judgemental. But honestly, I think you will agree.

I am continually horrified by the way some women sit on the subway. I'm all for being comfortable, and understand the notion of relaxing a bit after a gruelling day in the office, or suffering from the morning sleepies.

But, Ladies.

When you are wearing a skirt, sit with your legs closed. I don't care how tired you are. I don't care what your day was like. Close them up. No one needs to see up there.

I hate to think that I randomly notice, and then quickly avert my eyes elsewhere. But I hate to think even more of pervy guys who notice, and then slouch down in their seats a bit more to get a better view. Who wants to expose themselves like that? And I mean that both literally and figuratively.

Gah!!! And while I am going to sound terribly judgey again - I think the bit that really gets me about these peepshow women on the subway, is that they are usually dressed in their nice business attire and look like classy women. Women who would be classy enough and smart enough to sit in that polite fashion with their knees together and their ankles crossed.

I don't know. Perhaps I just live in a different world. Maybe it's a big city thing to flash your va-jay-jay around and I just didn't get the memo.

Now that I think about it....I hope I don't ever get that memo :S

A little different this time...

Sleeping in was not an option during my summers as a kid. Everyone loves to sleep in -- I bet you do. But no, not me, not then. The sun rose, the roosters crowed, and my feet hit the hardwood floor.

Every year, my brother, sister and I spent the summer at my dad's farm. We ran wild and rampant in fields, forests and farmyards. We had chores to do, hay to bail, chickens to feed, and sun to soak up. True, I left behind my gaggle of friends in the city each time, but I knew I was heading for an experience that my friends would never have. I felt kind of lucky.

My dad opened up a whole new world to me. He made me appreciate nature and life away from my barbie dolls. I learned about animals, about crops, and about eating without having to go to the grocery store. Have you ever made a meal that came from your own backyard? Can you just imagine chicken so fresh and juicy you don't want to stop eating even when you're ready to burst? That was our typical Sunday night dinner.

That meant Sunday morning we had to go out to the yard to catch a chicken. I don't know if you've ever been chicken chasing, but let's just leave it at it's not so easy. I would end up with fits of giggles and find myself being chased by the chickens instead.

There is one Sunday I will never forgot. I don't think my brother or sister will ever forget either. The choice chicken had been captured, my brother was holding it as steady as he could upon the tree stump, while my dad held up the axe like a bronzed god ready to provide a table of plenty to his family.

The axe fell. My sister and I were perched upon the old wooden fence, patient in the shade. Flies were buzzing around our heads, the horse was switching his tail on the other side of the fence, vying for the small spot of shade from the tall birch tree, but careful not to get too near us. My sister jumped down and made her way to where my dad and brother stood. After all this time, I still don't know what urged her to walk over and look at the beheaded chicken.

There it lay. There she stood. And there, upon that chopping block, it found a surge of life and jumped up, beating it's wings, landing on it's feet, and ran headfirst for my sister. I say 'headfirst', but really, it was 'headlessfirst'! You can't imagine the look of sheer horror that moved across my sisters face. She was frozen in place for only an instant, but then kicked up dirt like she was running for her life! I, safe upon the fence, had to hold onto the rail to stop from falling off with laughter. This beheaded, and now bloody chicken was chasing my sister! It was karmic retribution right before our eyes!

She deeked right, the chicken followed. She made a hard left, the chicken followed. It trotted along behind her, keeping pace like an assassin. I think now of the headless horseman, and the poor townsfolk who were haunted by him. Lucky for my sister, there was no way a chicken could claim her head for its own. But then it started to close in on her, she was trapped by the tractor shack. She was screaming like a girl -- oh wait, she is a girl. It moved in for the kill, it darted up along beside her, brushing it's body against her skinny little chicken legs, leaving traces of blood running down into her sock.

We were no help to the situation, my dad and brother were laughing just as hard as I was. My sister was now crying. My dad had to swallow his laughter. The chicken had it's last run. It fell over in a heap. My dad walked over to her and wiped her tears, wiped her leg. He told her to go into the house to wash it off and then scooped up the chicken and followed behind her. A prize for his wife.

I can't recall now if my sister ate much dinner that night. For all I know, she reached for a chicken leg with relish, thinking "you little....". She's like that though, a little mean, a little saucy. What older sister isn't?

It was just another day on the farm, though. Monday morning came, the dawn cracked like a whip sending us off to the barn to brush the horses and feed the chickens. We were back on track; all barnyard duties were seen to which left the rest of the day open to a fairytale land for us to invent until supper time. I wouldn't have traded it for a summer of concrete and sleeping in at all.

Riiiiiiiiiight

It just seems so ironic.

There I am, minding my own business on the bus, when I notice this guy giving me the eye. He holds my gaze for a moment and looks away.

I think to myself, hmmmm......he actually has a few features there in his face like Brad Pitt. Wow.

Stunning fellow.

I look away.

I look at him again. There is he, looking at me. I kind of smile. He kind of smiles. We both look away.

This carries on for about the next 5 minutes. He gets up to walk towards the door. Nice. One stop before mine. What are the chances.

He looks back one more time, this Brad Pitt look-a-like.

I give him the complete once over -- which means I look at his hands. As in, I look at his left hand. Call it a habit of mine.

And what do I see?????

A wedding band. Shiny gold ring.

Apparently, he already has an Angelina.

Just as well. I'd say I'm more like Jen anyway.

You know you're nearing the city when....

This past weekend, I took the three hour trek northwest to visit my folks. They live up in the country, out among the rolling hills of Ontario and the mooing cows. (And the damn crowing roosters.)

Driving home, while long and somewhat tiresome, is one of life's little pleasures for me. I feel at peace speeding along the country roads, farm and forests for kilometers beyond my imagination. On these wintry days when the snow covered fields are kissed by the shining sun, I want to pull over and stare across the landscape, soak in every sight to be had and breathe deep the fresh air.

The lack of traffic is another bonus on the drive home. The farther I get away from the city, the more it becomes just myself and the open road. The other cars I do encounter are either speeders such as myself, or lackadaisical drivers in their pick up trucks enjoying the beauty of nature -- drivers who are easy to overtake on the two lane highway.

The drive back to the city, however, is a different story. I leave behind me the horses braying in the paddocks on the side of the road, the freedom of space, the notion that a simple life is a good life. I also leave behind me drivers who drive like me. Confident with weather change, accustomed to snow drifts, a natural ease of rough driving.

The first half of my drive home found a couple dozen small snow drifts across the road. With such open fields, snow drifts are to be expected. There I was, popping along in my pregnant rollerskate of a car, on the tail of a farmers pick up, at about 115km/hr. Not terribly fast, but fast enough for the rural life. The impeding snow drifts made us ease up to about 110km/hr. Behind this pickup, I felt confident about my safety and skill.

Eventually, I parted ways with the pickup truck and met up with a line of traffic that slowed my speed to about 90km. I did my best to not be the impatient driver I usually am and pass those ahead of me. The line was too long and I was not in the mood for the weaving required to be first in line.

Suddenly our speed decreased to 70km/hr, to 60 km/hr! What was going on?? An accident???

Nope.

A miniscule snow drift has found it's home across the roadway. Drivers didn't know how to handle it. They slowed down, they waited for oncoming traffic to zoom by so they could drive AROUND it. Little did they know that their cars could drive right through it.

I snorted. I grabbed the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I yelled at them all "Are you kidding me!?!" A moment's vented anger for me is like a release of a week's pent up anger. I felt much better, sighed and sat back in my seat. I turned up the music even louder and sang at the top of my lungs.

Silly city drivers. They just need a good drive in a blizzard up north to get themselves sorted out. What nonsense!

All the things you said, running through my head

I sit here this Sunday evening, sipping my wine, watching Sex & the City, and can't stop thinking about my 28th birthday. Turning 28 does not seem to have the same stigma attached as turning 27. Which is a sigh of relief, I must say.

Though the nearing 28 does inspire me to behave like a grown up. When I think back to when I was a child, and what I thought of my parents' acquaintances who were in their late 20's... I would not peg them to be the teenager-struggling-in-this-adult-body like me. I could not imagine them giggling with their friends while watching old reruns on tv, or of making childish perverse jokes, and discussing the finer points of drinking.

But that is exactly it. I still feel like a teenager. I still feel like I want to run with reckless abandon. But then I hear the 28 year old voice in my head who says things like "Melissa....that's not a wise idea. Stay on the sidewalk where it's safe." She also says "Melissa...you don't need another drink..."

It's a tough struggle, I tell you. I'm sure I'm not the only one who faces these situations. Infact, I'm pretty sure most of my friends do. But it's not like we actually sit around and say "Hey, you'll never guess what the voice in my head stopped me from doing the other day!" No one wants to admit to voices in their heads, after all.

I digress. Wine, Sex & the City, and Melissa. The antics and trials of those 4 women puts a little something in my soul -- a little something that tells me I'm not alone. Fiction eases my mind.

Admit it

Yes. I know it's true.

I am a crummy blogger in 2008. Believe you me, it breaks my heart too.

Either one of two things has happened here:

1. I have lost my interest in my blog

2. I have poor time management skills

I elect number 2.

Though there is also the factor of 2.3: Not very much blog-worthiness living has been going on. Or at least funny things anyways.

Not to say that I suck lately or anything, but....... Just kidding....(maybe).

So I have a few highlights. Some funny, some not.

• My boss is a charming fellow, one who has his funny moments, but he mostly wears his serious pants at the office. We recently returned from a business trip down south where I got to experience his outside of the office personality. At the airport, we had to take a shuttle from where we returned the rental car to the main terminal. As I sat beside him, not paying attention to him reading his paper, but rather staring out the window at the greenery, suddenly the lady standing in the aisle infront of us, apologizes in an embarassed voice to him. Seems when the bus turned, she went to grab the rail, but grabbed his knee instead. With that charming glint in his eye (one comparible with the devil) he flashes a cool grin in her direction and says "Oh, carry on" and winks. The lady and her two companions giggle at him and smile while I laugh and sigh with that "You're so encouragable" smirk on my own face.
• My dearest little niece, Olivia, had entered into her terrible two's. Smart little cookie that she is, when she causes a fuss, yelling for Daddy, and does not get the response she is wanting, she resorts to calling him by his first name. Hehehehe....this is very funny to me. Not so funny to my brother.
• And last, but not least, is an update on the progress of my business :) M&L Ideas has been selected as a feature workshop presenter for the Mississauga Independent Film Festival this summer!!! Woo woo!!!! How sweet is that!?!?!?! So my mom and I are busy beavers writing our material with a new angle on it. If you want details on that, check out my site, www.ml-ideas.com and look on the sidebar for the link to events of where you can find us. Pretty damn cool I tell you.

I hope this little update has been as good for you as it was for me. Oh bloggerland, I miss you. Blogspot sites in general has recently been blocked by our firewall at work so I can't even read blogs (seriously, you have no idea how much that pains me).

Regardless. I should not make excuses. Blogging is back on the priority list.

Choo-choo! Chooooo-choooooooo!!!!

Why is it that babies and toddlers draw such attention? What is it about them that us grown ups can't get enough of?

These little folks are not often riders of the subway, but when they are, they seems to be the centre of attention. Their silly little nattering on and wiggling around put smiles on the faces of dopey commuters. I, myself, find that suddenly I have arrived at my stop and almost missed it, because I'm so mesmerized by the sweet innocence of these little ones.

It's nice. I like seeing them on the subway even more than I like to see the mice running around the tracks in the station.

2008 is bound to be great! (that rhymes so it must be true)

A brand new year. And just like every brand new year before, it's a chance to make a change.


Welllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll......I feel I made lots of changes in 2007 to last me a while, but perhaps I'll aim for a few more. While I need to continue to grab life by the reigns, I must also be confident in what I am doing. I need to step outside of my comfort zone and grow.


I will take this in steps. Now, I am a visual person. So let me lay it out here for myself. I should live life like this:

Step 1) Jump at opportunities and don't be afraid.

Step 2) Accept a bit of help from friends if I just can quite get there myself.

Step 3) Get situated well -- though it may feel weird, perhaps its right.

Step 4) Sit back and enjoy the ride!

So if everything goes according to plan, life will be just like riding a horse. Soooooo natural.