Resolving Timeline Issues

Archive for July 2008

Convert

Posted on: July 27, 2008

I have become a convert.

For the last while, my laptop was acting all weird with internet exploder 7.0. It was slow – to click a link would take a good 5 seconds to turn from a pointer into a hand, and then another 3 seconds past the time I clicked to actually start loading the page. Then it might load. Evenually, it would just become unresponsive and while I knew what the error was I didn’t know how to fix it (because the files the error referenced just didn’t exist. Hellooo? Mr. Gates? Can you fix this please?) except to reinstall IE.

So today I downloaded firefox. And it runs faster and better than internet exploder.

Ok, I’m late to the game on Firefox. But you can call me a convert now.

I just got  back from the Farmer’s Market that’s held every Saturday from May to October here. The end of July is usually a good time to go – crops are at their best around here, despite the cool-ish weather we’ve been having.

Today I picked up this bag of stuff:

Bag of goodies

 

Shall we see what’s inside?

(yes, yes, I know. There’s a mysterious paper bag in there – but I left one of my reusable produce bags in the fridge)

Raspberries: Local. Spray-free. Mmm.

I also got one of these cases of raspberries:

Hey, I just noticed that the box labelled “Fresh BC Berries is reflected in the window. Cool.

(Note to self: must learn how to use photoshop and deal with varying brightnesses. Or just learn to use the bazillion and three settings on my camera).

 Before moving onto the bag, lets get up close and personal with the berries:

)

Up close and personal with the raspberries. I think they might be embarazzed 🙂

 

So, back to the bag of bounty.

First I went to the Egg Lady and got some carrots and radishes. The radishes are big and plump, the carrots are a bright orange with long, leafy greens attached. They are also plump.

Radishes

Plump radishes

I don’t have a picture of the carrots. They will be eaten soon. Or the potatos I got too. They will be mashed up for Shepherd’s Pie shortly.

Pattypan Squash

Pattypan Squash

Next door to the Egg Lady was another stand with pattypan squash. I grabbed a couple because I want to try this recipe from Robyn. I wonder if it can be done on the bbq instead? 

yum

And the brown paper bag from above? That has campari tomatoes. On the vine.

There were numerous other yummy things there – beets and sweet onions and fresh garlic and artisan stuff too, from bread to handbags – all locally made.

So if you haven’t been this season, visit your local farmer’s market.

Things to be happy about

  1. Its Friday! Yay!
  2. T-6 days til laser surgery!
  3. Red Wine (from Mt. Boucherie – specifically this one)
  4. Cat sitting on the footrest and tickling my feet with her whiskers.
  5. Farmer’s Market tomorrow
  6. Time to actually get things done

And of it all, I think 3 and 6 are the ones I’m happiest about.

Pizza is ordered, wine is poured. I plan on catching up on some sleep this weekend.

Tomorrow is the Farmer’s Market here and my Egg Lady is always there with her amazing beans, cucumbers, tomatoes and peppers. And I have time to go to that and clear out the bottles and cans in my garage, and maybe even go to the chicken farm.

Unless I do what I did last weekend which was (a) sit on my kiester and (b) watch a bunch of movies. And right now, that is sounding pretty good.

Question for the masses: I have about 15 lbs of lean ground beef in my freezer – what do I do with it?

Edited to add: this post took a left turn on me.  Apologies if it rambles.

Aspeth is back! And you should read her post here.

When I recreated this blog after getting hacked, there was part of it I didn’t post. A very important part of my story.

Back in 2001,  I was sort-of-in-denial-dating Marty. Marty had been my first boyfriend about 10 years earlier, and we’d always been friends. Both of us had gone through rather bad breakups and found comfort in each other. He was my best friend, who knew me better than anyone else. Shortly after we got back together, he said to me, “You smell the same as you did 10 years ago” (and he didn’t mean a lack of deoderant – he associated people with smells).

Christmas 2001 was a bit mixed up. My parents came down and left on Boxing Day. I went shopping. Marty and I had planned to get together on New Years eve and do a Christmas/New Years celebration. We made the plans on December 26th. He was moving and told me he had given his barbeque away. I asked if he was okay and if he wanted me to come over. He declined.

That was the same day I found out a friend’s mother had passed away after a battle with cancer. The remembrance service was to be on December 28th at a funeral parlour next door to where I lived.

On December 28th I cleaned the house top to bottom, went grocery shopping and then next door to the funeral parlour where I attended the service. I remember Katie (who is a vegetarian) saying to me, “I touched MEAT to make these sandwiches.”

I went home after, flipped on the TV and poured myself a drink. A bit later, the phone rang. It was Marty’s mom. “Have you seen my son?” she asked.

Well, no, I hadn’t. And I wondered how she’d gotten my phone number. Apparently, she’d phoned my parents in the Cariboo and asked how to get in contact with me.

I tried to reassure her – saying Marty does this sometimes: he goes away and then comes back a day or two later and tells us about his travels. But something didn’t sit right.

I phoned his roommate, Dan, who was trying to pack up Marty’s waterbed. Marty had been in the midst of moving. I offered to go over to help – Dan declined as he’d just gotten the waterbed draining. Really, I was looking for some sort of contact with him.

The next morning my mom called to make sure I was okay. The fact she thought something was wrong was enough to set me off.

Sunshine called – she was in town from Japan and was returning a call I’d made asking if she’d heard from Marty. She hadn’t.

That afternoon, I called Maple Ridge RCMP and helped out with a missing persons report his mother had already filed.

That evening, I got a call from Marty’s mom saying they’d found his car at the Pitt Meadows Airport. My world shattered.

Sunshine came over on the 31st and dragged me out to New Years’ at the Wild Coyote. We left early and headed out early the next morning to the Pitt Meadows Airport. Dan came whizzing by in his car, pulled a screeching u-turn, leaped out and grabbed me. He told me we shouldn’t go wandering around the airport because they’re bringing out a dog later to look for him.

(Goddamn, this is still hard to write).

In the next 3 or 4 days, I lost 6 pounds. I suffered mood swings like you wouldn’t believe, I called in favours to people in various sectors. I took time off work. I raged and I cried. A lot.

To this day, Marty is still considered a missing person.

 I recovered. I moved along. Despite the fact I’m crying like a baby at the moment, I am happy. And I’d like to think that Marty would want me to be happy.

A couple of weeks ago, I came across an article on missing men in the Lower Mainland/Fraser Valley. I scanned it, but nothing jumped out at me. It was a bad memory – one I didn’t want to focus on.

I believe things happen for a reason. That when the Universe nudges you and you don’t respond, it begins screaming.

Aspeth’s post was the scream.

I sent her an email earlier today:

I have to say, about your friend, that really fucking sucks – because it does. I know when I’ve suffered loss the last thing I wanted anyone to say to me was “I’m sorry about…”; I just wanted them to agree with me that it sucks (and when I was being pitiful about it that it was unfair).

And that is why I didn’t post this before. I was tired of having to comfort when the grief was supposed to be my own. I tried to leave it behind. The whole thing sucked. I just wanted someone to come out and say that to me.

Yet, I believe there’s something in the Universe that prods us – whether you believe in God, Buddha, or the Wind in the Trees, it doesn’t matter. I think the Universe was trying to prod me with the “Missing” article. And I didn’t pay attention.

Today, I read Aspeth’s post on Loss. And then I did a google search for marty.

And I came across a Facebook group about him – with people I haven’t had contact with for years.

I deactivated my Facebook account awhile back for a reason based on principle.

Tonight, I reactivated it, for a reason based on faith.

Of all the advice I could give you, the best is \"Use sunscreen\"

Edited to add: those are not my feet. Those are Darren’s feet and legs. Mine are somewhat less hairy. When I have razor blades and shaving gel anyways.

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I went to the optometrist yesterday and he put those dilate-your-pupils-to-blind-you-completely drops. I normally beg off on them, but this time I had to have them so that he could stare deep into my eyes and tell me my eyeballs are perfectly healthy. In fact, he hasn’t seen such healthy eyeballs (except for the myopia) and I continue to be an excellent candidate for PRK laser surgery. Go me.

(Note: You can only get LASIK if your corneas are thick enough. Like my mother, I have thin corneas so must get PRK instead. Apparently, PRK is more painful. I hope I get some good drugs.)

At any rate, my eyes turning into saucers. I normally beg off because, well, I hate them. I had a headache already, and all that light pouring into my eyes didn’t help. I also had a hair appointment that I was supposed to drive to but couldn’t because I couldn’t focus. So I cancelled my hair appointment and went to London Drugs for some clip on sunshades for my glasses and wandered the mall with sunglasses on. And checked out my pupils – there was barely any iris visible.

I even wore them while sitting in the hair place in the mall because those lights in the hair salons are really bright.

Sunglasses inside the mall. How much cooler can you get than that?

(Also, apologies to any people reading in readers – I tried to upload a post earlier with a picture but wordpress’ picture hosting is sort of fubared at the moment)

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But! I am going to type it anyways. Who knows? It may actually keep me on track this weekend.

To Do

  • Shower (believe me, I need a shower)
  • Drive to Coquitlam to have a pre-op appointment for laser surgery in which they will probably make my pupils huge and with my luck I’ll get pulled over on the way back and the cop will think that I’m all strung out or have a head injury (note to self: digress later and tell the story of the girl who got whacked on the head with a softball last night)
  • Drive to Maple Ridge and get a haircut (in which they will wash my hair. again)
  • Drive home to feed and water cat and grab 3 bottles of wine and a bucket of cherries (note to self: digress later about the cherries)
  • Drive to the butcher in Pitt Meadows to get some steaks.
  • Drive to New West to watch Darren umping the softball tournament.
  • Drive to Surrey (somewhere) to team bbq.
  • Drive home and die.

Well, that’s sort of dull. How about some stories about my lady bits?

The Diva Cup. LURVE. I finally got one and seriously it is the BEST THING EVAR. Quite possibly, the most interesting thing is its graduated so you can see exactly how much of your innards are coming out.

The Digression about the Girl who Got Whacked In the Head with a Softball

I was sitting at Darren’s softball game last night, minding my own business and keeping score (sort of – I doubt how accurate it was but it didn’t matter because it was LOTSANDLOTS to FOUR. For the other team). And then I heard a sound: the sound of a head hitting something. I swallow my nausea and look up and the other team’s firstbaseperson drop.

And wow – the instinct. Seriously, I was like one of Pavlov’s Dogs. I zipped over, cleared her teammates, got one to hold her head still, another one called 911, calmed her down, checked her for neck injuries, oohed and aahed over the goose egg on her forehead, got her up, talked to 911, then waited for the firemen.

And got many handshakes and hugs from her teammates.

And I got to see firemen.

Although I haven’t been on deck lifeguarding in a few years – that sound, the one of a head hitting something firm still gets me. Although, its nice to know the training sticks.

The Digression About the Cherries

This will have to come later. I have to leave soon and still have to shower.

The other night, I went to a townhall meeting with TransLink where they presented their Transport 2040 strategy.

Now, at the risk of sounding forgiving, you have to realize that they’ve been given a nearly impossible task. On January 1, 2008, some new legislation kicked in that said they had to have a plan of some sort by August 1, 2008. That’s an awfully short time to develop a comprehensive, 30 year plan. So what you’ll see on this link is a strategic plan – broad brush strokes that point the way to some future.

That being said, after the meeting (and there were a LOT of angry people there – more on that later), and I said to some guy that I thought the whole plan was a load of horseshit.

I live in an area that’s not well-served by public transit. There’s the WestCoast Express which runs only during peak hours. The result of that is this morning was a mad dash in time for last train to get me downtown. I’d planned to go into work late and I did – I got there at 9:15am. There’s the 701 to Coquitlam Station which is an “express” bus – with 30 stops. There are numerous community shuttles – which are unreliable. One 16 year old at the meeting told a story of how she waited for 45 minutes for a shuttle – late at night that never came.

There is little transit east of 200th Street. And Maple Ridge is supposed to be a city centre.

There were a lot of angry people at that meeting. TransLink wasn’t even going to come to Maple Ridge (probably because they knew there was nothing in that plan for Maple Ridge) until the Mayor asked them to come. They looked sufficiently chastised, especially when they were asked no more than 4 times if they’d taken transit out to the meeting (of course not? are you crazy? THEY IS HI POWERED EXECUATIVES!)

But none of that really fazed me – its part of the reality of living here. And I love this town.

What got me what what the accountant guy said:

To me, this isn’t a plan, because its not financially sustainable.

Well, no shit, Sherlock. And yet you want to keep increasing my property and fuel taxes, and we don’t get any benefit from it?

Other highlights:

  • investing $24M in cycling and $29M in WestCoast Express over the next 10 years (do YOU see a discrepancy here?)
  • West Van has half the population of Maple Ridge and twice the bus service to downtown Vancouver (I guess that’s what money can buy you)
  • people out here want to take transit but can’t; its offensive that TransLink believes all that’s needed is a behavioural shift (FOR SHAME. It goes without saying that in order for people to change their behaviour, you have to give them the resources to do so)
  • for what it costs to build one kilometer of underground skytrain (an oxymoron, really), you can build a line of light rail from Maple Ridge to Mission.

Did you know that there’s no bus service from Maple Ridge to Mission? And that people in Abbotsford have to go to Mission, then the WestCoast Express to get downtown?

So kudos to Mayor Robson for getting TransLink out here. And more kudos to him for wanting to get Maple Ridge out of TransLink. I can tell you which Mayoral candidate out here will get my vote in November.

Edit:

Oh and a couple of days later, I found out another interesting thing: TransLink didn’t ask any municipalities for input until the strategy had been created – they weren’t considered stakeholders.

This is crossposted over at WetCoast Women  where Nicole also rants sometimes.

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I didn’t realize it had been quite that long since I wrote about the Elephant on My Head. I feel much better now.

So, first things first, the password for the post below can be acquired in two ways.

  1. It is the name of the character that said, “Life…don’t talk to me about life” from a certain work that answered the question to life, the universe and everything.
  2. You can email me at rtissues at gmail dot com. But try the first one first – its much more fun.

And for those that had the password before, it is the same.

Now that the administrative stuff is out of the way, I really have nothing to say because all I’ve been doing is (a) working (b) WORKING and (c) working. And drinking some wine.

We made it to the driving range a couple of times and it is abundantly clear I haven’t been out in almost TWO YEARS because the driving range is just not fun. Apparently, Wii golf doesn’t count when it comes to playing real golf.

The first time we went out, my sides hurt for awhile. Then I spent about 8 hours over the course of two days working on other people’s swimming strokes (have not done this in YEARS). And then I had to go to work and try to maintain some semblance of normalcy in my private life.

Thank god the cleaning service came at some point in there. Really, I don’t know what I’d do without them.

And then the thing in the password protected post happened and weirded me out.

So I have a month off working weekends. Not that it matters because next weekend I have an optometrist appointment, then have to stop wearing my contacts and on the 31st I go under the laser. Am quite excited about this: not only do I get my vision corrected, but my mommy is coming to take care of me and cook. Daddy is coming too. Maybe I can guilt him into kindly ask him to be removing the laminate from the laundry room for me because its pretty nasty?

So yes, a rather abrupt end, but I have to go get ready for the thing in the password protected post.

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On Monday, I ate a chocolate bar. A Mars bar. And you know what? It tasted damn good.
(cue body nudging me)

On Tuesday, I had ice cream. It also tasted damn good.
(cue body kicking me in the shin)

On Wednesday, I had another Mars bar. It tasted really damn good.
(cue body beating me over the head)

Why does this matter?

I don’t have a sweet tooth. I’m pretty fussy about the chocolate I eat and usually a Mars bar is the last thing on my list of sweet things to eat. Ice cream ranks higher (but that’s because its got a lot of fat in it). But the last few days I wanted the sugar. There’s only one time when I want sugar – and that’s when I’m about to get a migraine.

This morning, the alarm went off at the usual oh-god-thirty. I reached over and slapped it off, then sat up and felt an elephant on my head. So I laid down for another 15 minutes.

I sat up again and the room spun around and a jackhammer started digging at my brain. My stomach turned into a pancake and was flipped over.

Once the room and stomach settled down, I stumbled downstairs to get my cel phone. I made three calls: the first was to my carpool buddy (whose alarm doesn’t go off at oh-god-thirty, but earlier at you’ve-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me-forty five), my manager and another coworker, just in case to let them know there was no way I would in on time. I’m not really sure how coherent I was but I think the message got across.

At some point Darren came upstairs to wake me up. I think I grunted at him and said something about an elephant on my head. When he finished his morning ablutions, he kissed me goodbye and I went back to sleep. For FOUR MORE HOURS.

My head was still hurting when I got up, but the elephant was gone and had been replaced by a…I don’t know. Some slightly smaller creature like a large cat. A lynx maybe? I stumbled downstairs again, reheated some coffee and fed the cat.

The coffee stayed down, thank god.

I trundled off to work, head still pounding, and sulked at my desk – especially when the ambulances went by (I work 3 blocks from a major hospital).

And now I will take some coedine and go to bed.

*to give you an idea of what time oh-god-thirty is, I offer this: I slept for an additional four hours, have an hour’s commute to work, and still managed to get there at 11am)


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