Merry Christmas to Me

I returned to work yesterday after Christmas to find a Christmas present from my managers in my mailbox. I sure got spoiled this year, they must really have blown the budget for the staff.

Our First Christmas Tree

It took a while, but here is a picture of our first Christmas tree . . .

From now on, it won't be taking quite so long to get pictures up on this site, thanks to the cool new digital camera we got for Christmas from Mike's parents!! Yay!! Quite exciting, to be sure.

It's Been a While

It's been a little while since I've last blogged . . . perhaps not as long a drought as some other bloggers, but for a newbie like me, it seems like a long time. I've been so busy with work lately, it's been quite crazy. At the end of last week, the Staples computer system went down across North America, the result of which was that a whole lot of product piled up in the warehouse over a period of a day and a half, without being received. When the system came back up again Friday afternoon two hours before I was supposed to be done work I wasn't terribly impressed, and this week will be busier than normal because of the back-log. I am SO happy that I have Thursday and Friday off, you have no idea.
On Saturday, Mike and I went out and picked out our very first Christmas tree. It is interesting trying to combine two different ideas of Christmas traditions. I've grown up looking forward to the last day of school, because Dad and Mom would pick us up from school at noon and we would go, all bundled up in our snowsuits and boots, trudging out to the Christmas tree farm (usually Klaas' out by Rockton). There we would spend a good hour or two at least running from tree to snow-covered tree, trying to pick the very best one and then trying to convince the rest of the family that that tree was indeed the very best one. Then Dad would saw it down with the old red bowsaw and we would "help" him to drag it back to the van and tie it onto the roof with copious amounts of rope. Once the tree was set up in the living room with the lights and the decorations, it always smelled so good. Christmas tree scent is, to me, a very important part of feeling Christmas-y.
For Mike, the Christmas tree tradition was a little different . . . I imagine Mom or Dad would announce that it was time for the tree to be set up, and then all the kids would race downstairs and unpack whatever cupboard the tree happened to be stored in. All the parts and boxes would be dragged up the stairs and the tree would be assembled in the living room and then decorated with the familiar lights and decorations, and topped with a lighted angel. No needles to clean up, and no snowy footprints down the hall.
I just can't swallow the idea of having an artificial tree.
We went half-way (well maybe more my way) and chose a live tree from Home Depot. Perhaps a little bit cheating on the tradition side, but I can forget about that and just enjoy the cheery smell of pine tree and the cozy-ness of Christmas lights glowing in our little apartment. I took some pictures with Lauren's digital camera, but they will be a little while in coming as I have to download them from her.
Anyways.
Something somewhat gross and embarassing: I was cleaning out the fridge the other day and I found a small and quite forgotten container in the back corner. Perhaps it would be sad for some people to discard something which has been around for more than half of your marriage, but in this case, I wasn't too upset to throw away the kidney beans and their container, which had been hiding out since August 17, at least according to the label. Four month old kidney beans smell really, really disgusting, in case you were ever wondering . . .
Don't worry, our house is usually fairly clean . . .

What a Tragedy

I have to apologize for making yet another blog about my work. I certainly don't want to write exclusively about my life from 7:30 - 4:00 (or 5:30, or 6:30, or whatever it may be) as I am sure no one is really all that interested, and besides, there is more to life than work. However, I have a tragedy to report. Perhaps it's not really a qualifiable tragedy to the majority of people in the world, and I suppose it isn't even a true tragedy for me, even though I am going to proceed with calling it so. Every day, I receive and open boxes with product. Sometimes, these boxes are very full. Sometimes, they are half empty, and sometimes, it is just one large box with, say, a pencil in the bottom or something silly like that. The tragedy I am alluding to involves the half-empty and almost-empty boxes. To make sure these products do not get thrown around or broken in transit, all empty space is stuffed with stuffing paper or, more to the issue, large, large bubble wrap. This bubble wrap is so big that when you jump on it to pop it, it sounds like someone is having a heyday with a gun in the receiving dock. Just imagine how much fun that would be! Unfortunately, instead of jumping on all the bubble wrap that I come into contact with during the day, I rip it out of the box, slash it with my knife, and throw it away, all in one fell swoop. All this in an effort to be efficient! Thankfully, when I come home, I have so much bubble wrap left over from the attack on my car several weeks ago that I can pop bubbles to my heart's content.
I heard something today which was of note. One of the women I work with has been sick for a few weeks, and although we thought it was the flu or perhaps something slightly more serious, it wasn't the flu. She was diagnosed with cancer, and it doesn't look good. She was at the hospital yesterday, receiving a blood transfusion, and, hockey fan that she is, she was wearing her good old Edmonton Oilers jersey. And who did she figure out was beside her in the room, also receiving a blood transfusion? It was Wayne Gretzky's mother! Imagine that! But it gets better. Who came to visit Wayne Gretzky's mother while she was having a blood transfusion? None other than but Wayne Gretzky himself!! He talked to this lady I know for a while. I'm sure that picked up her spirits a little!!

The Receiver

Starting officially today, my territory at Staples has been decreased to less than 5% of what I previously was entitled to. Rather than wandering the store looking for customers to please, I will now be busy in the back, receiving boxes and boxes and boxes of products all day long. Scan, beep, cut, rip, grab, scan, close, move on. It's quite the juggling game and I'd have to say I'm quite tired now, even though I did manage to get home at 6:00.
Despite being quite anxious and concerned over how today was going to go, I'd have to say that I did alright. I didn't finish all the work I had to do, but my manager told me to go home, so I did. I would have gotten more done this morning, if I hadn't arrived at work to find about 30 large garbage bags, boxes full of garbage, and random loose garbage and empty boxes strewn throughout my work area. This was not a pleasant discovery. Neither was the discovery that the "baler", the machine which crushes down space-consuming boxes into non-space-consuming scrunched up bales of cardboard, was on the blitz. Also not pleasant was the discovery that the lights in the receiving area were not on and as much as my manager, Gord, tried to convince me that this was a "romantic atmosphere" in which to enjoy my first day of receiving, I didn't enjoy not being able to see. Thankfully, today was also the first day (actually I think it was yesterday but whatever), that our new general manager, Carm(en) was working. Gord assured Carm that an electrician had already been called to remedy the no-lights situation, but superhero Carm turned on the light switch and the lights were magically working again.
Although my new responsibilities do require me to spend my days in the back room away from people (well, non-truck-driver people), I do venture into the store once or twice during the day to bring away high-ticket items to be locked up. On one of those trips today, I noticed that the freaky phone (see an earlier post) has been taken out of commission. No longer will people walk by and have the phone talk to them - perhaps it didn't bother anyone but me, but I am personally quite relieved that the phone is leaving.

The Very Last

Tonight the very last Tangerine Orange Zinger tea bag in our home was steeped and sucked dry of its tea-yummy-liciuos decaffeinated flavour-ful-ness. The original plan was to save this teabag and several select others until I was done the "Summer Berry" tea purchased from Food Basics some time this summer, but tonight has officially, just now, by me, been designated Tangerine Orange Zinger night, and if you have any other kind of tea on a night which is officially a Tangerine Orange Zinger night, there could be severe consequences.
If you ever have a desire for a fruity kind of herbal tea, I urge you not to purchase Summer Berry tea from Food Basics. When I think of summer berries, daydreams of sweet strawberries, juicy raspberries and blackberries, mulberries and blueberries, and perhaps even cherries and a dollop of whipped cream (though they are not a berry at all) cross my mind and make my mouth water. Thus, while perusing the tea selection at the local cheap food store, Summer Berry herbal tea was the natural choice. Perhaps the MasterChoice label should have tipped me off, but alas, the juicy strawberry on the package caught my attention and urged me to add the tea to my shopping cart.
The aroma which reached my nose when I opened the package at home was slightly suspicious, but I gave the tea the benefit of the doubt and steeped a bag. However, once I sat down to enjoy some berry-licious tea, the flavour was more than slightly suspicious. This could not be berry tea!! This tea belonged in the deep winter, a tea tasting of apple and cinnamin and reminding me of cold winter evenings and warm apple cider. This couldn't be!! Where were my raspberries? Where were my blueberries? Where were the strawberries which so tantalizingly graced the package of the tea box?
I sprang up from my cozy chair to examine the package once more. While the description on the package promised a "delicate blend of strawberry, blueberry and raspberry flavours" which would "create a taste of summer sunshine", the ingredients told the bitter truth.

Hibiscus flowers
Apple granules
Rosehip
Cinnamon bark
Natural flavours
Elderberry

What kind of a "Summer Berry" tea ingredient list is that? The first four ingredients are not even berries at all. Who knows what kind of "natural flavours" they are talking about. And another thing, who thinks of elderberries when they hear "summer berry"? I don't think I've ever even eaten an elderberry before. The whole thing was a scam.
So now it is getting into the winter, and I decided that I have to work through this tea before I can justify buying some real berry tea. I have 11 bags left out of twenty, and I'm sure I'll eventually get through them. Anyone want to come over for a cup of tea?

Forget Me Not

So far, I have spent my whole day wondering what it is that I forgot to do. It started right after breakfast, and since then, I've been plagued with a little worry in the back of my mind that is telling me that I have forgotten something important. I checked several times during the day for some obvious things: yes, I brought my lunch with me; yes, I brushed my teeth this morning; yes, I put on my pants this morning; yes, my fly is zipped up. So now, it is 5:30 p.m. and I still haven't remembered what it is that I forgot. I was supposed to water the plants this morning, so that may or may not be the forgotten task. Anyone have any grand ideas?
I was working in the furniture department this morning, and I had a lady come in who needed a specialty chair. She was diagnosed with an incurable neuromuscular condition which affects mostly her neck but also her back, and subsequently she has a lack of control over her neck movements. After talking to her for a while and trying to find the best solution for her, she talked to me about her condition and how the doctors said there was no cure and nothing they could do for her. Instead of giving up, she has made up her mind that she's going to beat this thing and stun all the doctors. She has dedicated herself to a vigorous schedule of physiotherapy to strengthen her muscles, exercises to retrain her brain in its control of her movements, and Botox injections. I found it so enjoyable to talk to her, as she was so cheerful, friendly, and determined. After she purchased an Obusform chair, I took it out to her car and loaded it in for her. She gave me a big hug afterwards, and she was so thankful - she definitely made my day!!

What a Weekend

Well, it's now Tuesday evening, and although it's been a day or two since the weekend sadly drew to its inevitable close, it certainly was a weekend which merits some attention on this blog of mine. First of all, CONGRATULATIONS to Sarah and Jeremy!! I am so excited for you two, and I hope and pray that you will continue to grow closer together in this new stage in your life, and that everything goes smoothly in your plans for your wedding day and the rest of your lives together! This is going to be so fun!!
And I also must add how thankful I am that my wonderful husband is still alive and well, along with several friends, after an accident which could have turned out so much differently. It could so easily have been a "caution - escarpment ahead" sign rather than a "caution - use boat ramp at own risk" sign which warned them of imminent danger that was too late to slow down for. Sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction.
Not too much else is new . . . unless anyone is remotely interested in the fact that yesterday, I received my buttons. I now have three shiny silver buttons on my nametag which, although they are earned as a team, make it look a little bit more like I am a nice and good employee just like everybody else. Perhaps I should post a picture of my buttons. If only I had a digital camera . . .

Reminiscing

I know I'm a little late on the draw, but this past weekend sent me on a trip down memory lane. It wasn't a super long trip, not like a 10 kilometer hike into the one-digit-age years when I was much shorter and much less wise. This trip was only only a few hundred meters into the past, into the wonderful month of June. The event triggering this trip was the wedding of Elaine Bosma and Rick Mechelse . . . congratulations, guys!! (although I have a feeling you'll never read this). It was such a nice wedding, from the nicely decorated church, the beautiful ceremony, the happy and gorgeous/handsome bride and groom, the delicious food, and the great entertainment among many other things. The day brought back so many good memories of June 4, and I have to admit that I found myself fairly emotional the whole day, perhaps because on the day of our wedding it was so busy that, for the most part at least, there wasn't really enough time to process everything that was going on. I wanted to post a couple pictures, actually I'd like to post a whole bunch more but I don't know how much people really want to see a million pictures. So I chose just three.

What are You?

Tonight, I spent some time trying to figure out how to put pictures on my blog. It is quite frustrating. I found that this little eraser picture was mysteriously on my post when I returned to this page. Since I didn't put it there, I figure it tried to jump off the blog menu onto the post, and if it wanted to be part of a blog that bad, I'll let it stay. I am currently trying to drink the biggest glass of chocolate milk I have ever tried to drink.
As for the point of this blog, I decided to steal something from Bonnie's website that I thought was fun. You can figure out what classic movie / famous leader you are. I am a sucker for personality tests and IQ tests and any random tests that I can find on the Internet. Our representative personalities are shown below:

Movies:
Rachel = Mr Smith Goes to Washington
Mike = The Godfather

Leaders:

Mike = Abraham Lincoln

Rachel = Ghandi

http://similarminds.com/movie.html http://similarminds.com/leader.html

The Bad Week

Once upon a time, there lived a girl whose wonderful boyfriend gave her a beautiful aquarium for Christmas. She carefully chose a number of fish, who happily swam and played in their new aquatic habitat. They chased each other, ate food, and grew a lot bigger, and the girl was happy with her fish.
When the girl and her wonderful boyfriend got married, the fish made a big trip to their new apartment. They set up residence in a different, but also nice, aquarium, where they happily swam and played. They chased each other, ate food, and grew a lot bigger.
Then, there was a bad week. No one knows why there was a bad week, but there was, and it was bad. A neon tetra died. Another neon tetra died. The green and orange glass fish died. The red glass fish died. And one of the zebra danios just up and disappeared.
The girl was very sad. Her aquarium was very empty. There were only two neon tetras and a zebra danio left, along with a very large algae eater who probably ate the missing fish.
It was not a very good week.

Apology

An apology to any readers who happen to be out there: I've been a lazy blogger who hasn't written back to your comments! I will try to amend my ways, as long as the Internet service wants to cooperate with my efforts.

Fish and Feathers

Sad and happy things to report today. Unfortunately, last week, among the busy days and tired nights, the passing away of a little neon tetra in my fish tank did not manage to attain an announcement on this blog. Of course, I missed this little fish and was very sad by its departure into the sea beyond, but to be completely honest, he was one fish among four, a member of the crowd, and he did not develop much of an individual personality. And perhaps this sounds cruel, but he can be replaced.
This is not where my sad tale ends. Yesterday morning, just before I left for work, I went to feed my fish, as I do most mornings. I was terribly dismayed to find the smaller of my two painted glass fish swimming upside-down and trying to right himself among the aquarium plants. He certainly did not look very healthy. As I am not well-trained in fish CPR, I knew the only thing I could do was go off to work and hope for the best - perhaps he was trying to teach himself new swimming techniques. By the time I got home, however, his self-training lessons did not appear to have been very successful, and undertaker Mike flushed him to his watery grave. This poor little fish had such a fun personality and he will be missed, especially by his remaining buddy. If anyone has any idea where painted glass fish can be purchased, please let me know because I can't find them anywhere.
Happy news!! Happy news is much needed after so much sorrow. Yesterday, I got a new pillow from Ikea. It is big and fluffy and comfy, it does not hurt my ear, it does not poke me with feather shafts, it does not lose feathers all over the place, and it is actually filled with down, not tail-feathers (75% anyways). Home Outfitters also accepted my story and gave me a refund on my old pillow, and when the bedding lady took one look at my pillow she agreed that it did not look very healthy at all, and that my pillow was definitely "defective". Yay for good customer service!!

Wild Weather

Yesterday, I worked in the furniture department from 12-9:30. Although it's only the second night shift I've done, I've already decided that 9 1/2 hours starting at noon is way, way too long, especially because by about 8:00 I am sleepy enough that quality work becomes quite difficult to accomplish, and small things become far too amusing.
It was dark and rainy yesterday, and although I was working at the back corner of the store with no windows, I was glad I could hear the rain pelting the roof all day. However, around 3:30 or so, I was wishing desperately that I was scheduled to work cash, which is right up by the big front windows. There was a terrific thunderstorm developing, with wild winds and heavy rain and strange colours in the sky. All of a sudden, the power went out and alarms started going off all over the place! What excitement!
When the battery-powered lights came on again, I decided that for a few minutes, I could schedule myself to work cash - who wants to buy furniture during such weather anyways? It was just crazy outside, it was raining so hard that you couldn't see anything. Apparently, a tornado was developing and headed over our area, later to touch down in Hamilton and wreak some havok there, including ripping the roof off part of an elementary school and injuring some students, thankfully not too seriously. Who would have expected a tornado 'round these parts?
And this morning, we wake up to a sunny, albeit moody sky. It's cold and calm, and for some reason there are still colorful leaves on the trees outside our apartment, while most of the trees on campus are bald and dark. I'm glad they're still there - forecasters have predicted possible snow for today, and I'm still desperately clinging on to the last cool wisps of autumn before winter moves in for good. Soldier on, leaves!

Bubbling Over

So last night we went to bed, tired and with no expectations of mischief. Unbeknownst to us, however, sometime during the night, a group of three vandals snuck into the parking lot outside our little apartment and attacked our helpless and innocent little Escort. Already braving the high winds and the rain, the poor car now had to deal with the effects of some crazy and conniving mischief-sowers-of-the-night. When we woke up, Mike looked out the window and exclaimed, "What happened to our car??!!" Fearing that it had gone missing, I was somewhat relieved to look outside and see it sitting there, but it didn't look like how we had left it the night before. Mike went outside and discovered that it was covered in metres and metres of . . . bubble wrap? Yes, folks, bubble wrap. 50 feet of bubble wrap, to be exact, complete with a poem which handily gave away to us the identity of the perpetrators. There are few people I know who can craft such poetry, and while she could scarcely commit such a crime on her own, there are two more villains who we know would happily aid and abet.

Bubbling Over

There once was a girl, there once lived a boy

They loved each other and had much joy!

They did lots of things and had lots of fun

They sure worked hard and got stuff done!

But once in a while, where there was trouble,

The only solution was a bubble . . .

A bubble, you say, how could that help?

How can air stop a yell or a yelp?

Well, you see, here's the big clue

Bubbles give you a new thing to do.

Spend countless hours popping air pockets

Instead of valuable things like eye sockets.

Small bags of highly compressed air

Will soon alleviate every care.

Bubbles can be blown from dishsoap

But they pop fast, they can't help you cope.

But here's a solution that cannot fail

A wonderful plan that will never grow stale.

25 feet of the best bubble wrap

Of course, STAPLES brand to make you clap.

According to wise and expert input

That's just an amazing .31 cents a square foot!!!

And if you popped a square foot per day

All calculated out in a wonderful way

A day would cost just 3.6 cents

Leaving lots of money for food, books and rent.

Self-therapy that works for worry and stress

Bubble wrap is just about the best!

So pop all those bubbles and have lots of fun

Then drive to the store whenever you're done

Ask a nice sales clerk and she will agree

That this is the best solution you'll see.

We hope you like it, that you'll think it neat

So relieve your worry with 50, yes 50, feet

of Staples best brand of Bubblewrap!

Pop a bubble, it is a snap!

Pictures to follow

A Show of Hands for Hands

When I was at work today, for some reason I was really noticing people's hands. Possibly it was because my own hands were dry and had a sliver that hands were on the forefront of my attention today, or possibly because I was working cash and people were handing me things all day long. Anyways, hands are really interesting and can sometimes tell you something about the people who wear them. There are the pudgy fat-fingered hands which hand you slightly moist and wrinkled bills, the warm dry business hands handing over credit cards, and the dirty construction-man hands offering grimy money. There is the fine-boned lady-hands, and of course the fine-boned man-hands, we get those too. Some hands have terrible scars on them, and I wonder what kind of damage and pain they went through. Fire? Acid? Addiction to nail-chewing? Sometimes these damaged hands are peeling or blistering or just a funny color. One older hand that came through my line today was missing a finger. I wonder what it would be like to be missing a finger? I happen to like having the use of all my fingers.

Pebble in my Shoe

Tonight, I hope to get something fixed that has been frustrating me for over 4 months. Actually, to be completely honest, I don't think it's been at a level five frustration for the whole duration of time since June 16, and probably isn't quite at a level five now, but it's still been frustrating and it's always nice when you manage to get rid of something frustrating, like getting a pebble out of your shoe. The pebble in my shoe has been my pillow. My new pillow was purchased on a post-wedding purchase spree, as my old pillow was making me wake up every morning with a sore ear and was hence ready for retirement, as no one likes a sore ear in the morning. This pillow was advertised as a down pillow, and, sure, it felt like down in the store. It looked for all intents and purposes like a down pillow. The price was worthy of a down pillow. However, for reasons to be further pursued, I am now sure it is not, in fact, a down pillow at all. It is a tail-feather pillow.
After about two months, I noticed that my pillow was collecting hard lumps in the corners. Hard lumps are not comfortable to sleep on! Another problem was that whenever I was settling in for the night, I would randomly get poked in the face with feather-stalks, or whatever you call the stick part of a feather. So, already two months ago, I was growing dissatisfied with this pillow which was not a down pillow, but was more of a mix between a rock pillow and a bed-of-nails pillow.
Then, as time passed, I also noticed that everytime the pillowcase got changed, there was a flurry of feathers spread all over the room. This had happened at the beginning as well, but not to such a serious degree. Now, as I was cleaning up these feathers, I began to notice that these feathers were somewhat on the big side to qualify as down feathers. In fact, some of these feathers were LARGE and PRICKLY, and most likely not down feathers at all but tail feathers. I have saved some of the largest offenders to show to the people at the store tonight: one of them is 4 1/2 inches long.
So anyways, I hope my case will be accepted by the folks at the store. I still have the receipt (DOWN AROUND PLW Q, item #021191121547 994), which I imagine is a good thing. I believe it is false advertisement to sell a pillow as a "down" pillow, while in fact it is a "tail-feather" pillow. If I wanted a tail-feather pillow I would have bought one that said so. I wouldn't recommend it though.

Happy Reformation Day

I currently am situated in the Redeemer computer lab, blessed with surrealistically fast internet service. It's quite shocking, actually, to click on something and have it come up within two seconds instead of 2 hours. Would it be so difficult to extend such wonderful speed to our apartment, I wonder? Or are we just destined for perpetually slow-like-molasses internet? Sigh. I think I pose a rhetorical question.
Work today was work. At least no one asked me to take down a fridge from the overstock and prepare it for delivery. Do I look like I can carry a fridge? Do I look like I have worked there long enough to have a license to drive their machinery? No, I don't think so, Wally with a dolly.
Mike and I just returned home from a dinner out with my family at Swiss Chalet. Mmm!! And the Halloween . . . . Reformation day dinner tradition lives on.
Yesterday we had our first annual fire drill at church. Of all the eligible people in the church, I happened to be one of the few lucky ones chosen for nursery duty in the morning. It wasn't too busy, at least not in the infant nursery, as we only had four kids. Fire-savvy babysitters that we were, we smelled some hypothetical smoke and just happened to have the kids all bundled up for the entrance of the elders, one of whom announced with a completely convincing monotone intonation of "Fire. There's a fire. Everybody out. There's a fire." So we left, and somehow in the commotion a renegade toddler escaped from the nursery next door and was found later, alone in the church, looking for his parents. This indicates a problem in our fire evacuation procedure, I believe.
I only have one more thing to add. Today I talked to a fellow employee at Staples about one of his most interesting sales experiences. He sold a laptop to an Amish man who had never seen a computer before in his life. Quite funny actually. It was for his daughter going off to college, and they were planning on hiding it in the barn whenever she didn't have to use it for school. This guy had no idea what he was looking for in a laptop, so my colleage explained the concept of a computer in relation to the workings of a tractor. The hay wagon is the hard drive, where you keep all your stuff. The tractor wheel is the "input device", or the keyboard. The engine drives the tractor like the CPU drives the computer. It's strange to realize how accustomed we are to computer terminology, and to think there are people who have absolutely no clue about what a computer even looks like.

If You But Let

If you but let the Father guide you,
Relying on His faithfulness,
He will be evermore beside you
In all your sorrow and distress.
He on whom God Most High depends
Builds not his house on shifting sands.

Will anxious care or bitter sighing
At any time give true relief?
And what avails us our decrying
Each morning's evil, trouble, grief?
We only add to grief and stress
By discontent and bitterness.

Be still! What God in His good pleasure
To you in wisdom may impart
Is given you in perfect measure;
Thus be content within your heart.
To Him who chose us for His own
Our needs and wants are surely known.

With song and prayer, in faith progressing,
In all you do God's will obey.
Expect from Him alone your blessing:
He will renew it every day,
For God will never those disown
Who put their trust in Him alone.

Disjointed

Today I feel somewhat disjointed. Not in a particularly bad way, but just one of those days when you start off a little off balance, like one leg's longer than the other. So far, though, it is a better start to the morning than yesterday's, where almost the first thing I did in the day was drop an open box of Q-Tips into the waiting toilet bowl. My day definitely improved after that, though, for which I am thankful. I found my name on a "Top 3" list for special orders in the lunch room, which was somewhat exciting.
There is a really freaky phone in Staples. It is set up near the front of the store, and advertised as a courtesy phone from Bell for anyone who needs to make a phone call. That would be all fine and dandy, except this phone talks to itself. It has a screen with random video clips of happy people using telephones (well, I think that's what it has, but honestly I haven't wanted to spend too much time around that phone, either because I'm too busy or it makes me nervous). When you walk past it, it talks to you, and it makes me jump everytime.
Did you know you can buy a 25 foot roll of bubble wrap for $7.83? I really had no idea how much bubble wrap would cost, but $0.31 a square foot doesn't seem too ridiculously much for hours and hours of self-therapy. If one were to use 1/4 of a square foot every other day for stress relief purposes, a 25 foot roll of bubble wrap would last you 28 and a half weeks, or about 7 months and 4 days. That would last me till the end of May, which would possibly be the end of my Staples career, depending on when and where we move. That works out to 3.6 cents per day - possibly a worthwhile investment for countering the negative psychological effect the courtesy phone is having on me.
This morning, I am having a coffee and a cookie for breakfast, just because I can.

Grey Monday

Well, it was another long and tiring day at work. A Monday, which began dark, dreary, and wet, without a sunrise to light the way. While busy filling shelves and checking up on items misplaced or reported out-of-stock, I completely missed the main excitement of the day, which involved fire and danger of explosion and fire trucks. How sad! I would have enjoyed something as interesting as a burning car in the parking lot and a subsequent dousing of said car by a pumper truck.
I watched two strangely dressed young women pick out Sharpie markers for whatever project they had on the go. I decided that they either belonged to a strange monkish cult or working for a Heritage Canada place acting out people who belong to a strange monkish cult. They were wearing maroon and yellow robes to the floor, covered in ornamental beading and tied at the waist with a metal chain. Their hair was exactly the same length and was done in exactly the same way, brushed back very tight with clips on the side. They received my vote for the interesting part of the 11 o'clock hour.
I had a long conversation with a elderly Swedish woman today, if it can be called a conversation when she talked for most of the full twenty minutes at the pace of an auctioneer, hardly letting me get a word in edgewise. She complained of the poor treatment of senior citizens by the Canadian government and the isolation she feels living in Canada. When I told her that a church community does a lot to bring more meaning to life, she told me she left the church because it was full of hypocrites and disrespectful people, and wanted nothing to do with any further church conversation.
My replacement did not come at 5:00 as scheduled, but arrived late enough (5:35) to give me ample time to discover and report the theft of a number of high ticket items, which had been stolen and their packaging dumped amongst the file folders in the nether regions of aisle two, which apparently is the favorite dumping ground for thieves. Sometimes, people are disgusting.
Tonight, I broke a beautiful champagne flute, a wedding present from one of my brand new sisters. This did not make me happy at all.
I have 900 pages left in my book, so I think I'll wear some cozy clothes and curl up in a comfy chair and read till its bedtime.

The Return of Heat

It was somewhere around the beginning of September that we discovered our trusty little car's heater was refusing to work anymore. How long this was a problem, we can't be sure, but it certainly was a sad discovery. For the weeks since then, the lack of heat was not too bothersome and we were not thinking ahead to the imminent arrival of cold weather and the unfortunate reality of frost and foggy windows. This past Thursday I was met with the evil reality of a frosted-up windshield when I arrived at the car on my way to work early in the morning. Lacking a snowbrush and enough time to search for one, I unhappily scraped the ice off with my fingers, and drove to work with hands so cold that the beautiful sunrise did not get as much respect and awe as it certainly deserved. It really was a fantastic sunrise - do they become extra spectacular in the autumn or is it just that I'm able to enjoy them more now? Anyways. While I was visiting my parents this afternoon, my Dad went out in the rain to take a look at the car and, "all done", he fixed it!! Thanks Dad!!

Sleep Deprivation

I can't write much today because my fingers are burnt. Oh, not too badly but enough to make the tips shrivelled, red, and occasionally quite painful, especially when doing dishes. After a long and tiring day of work, I came home with a depleted reserve supply of active and alert brain cells. It was to be chicken pot pie for supper, and the oven needed to be heated up first. Unfortunately, we store our cookie sheets and the like on the two shelves in the oven, and these were not unloaded before they were heated up along with the oven to a crispy 350 degrees F. When we realized this, Mike, using his very intelligent brain, grabbed oven mitts and removed the first load of cooking stuff and when he had the second load of stuff and nowhere to put it, I had a brain fart and grabbed the first load with bare hands to stick it on top of the fridge. Needless to say my fingers got a little bit frizzled, and now they hurt. It was dumb, and I have decided that next time I burn myself it won't be my fingertips but it will be some body part that isn't quite as essential - perhaps my appendix. We had an extended conversation on the possibilities of such a thing being accomplished - how does one go about burning one's appendix without burning anything else in the process? My idea was a hot hot chili pepper encased in a slow-dissolving capsule, swallowed and then deftly manouevered via handstands and crunches to end up lodged in the appendix, where the capsule would break open. Mike's creative idea included many lasers coming from different directions, all converging on the appendix. Anyone with better ideas, feel free to let us know. Anyone else, who may think this conversation seems to be a little strange, you must realize that it is fueled by a mixture of creativity, curiousity, and exhaustion. Anyways, since I'm not going to be experimenting with chili peppers or lasers anytime soon, I need to get some ice.

Death of the Mistletoe

Hooray for the return of our oven! Our fuse has been replaced and once again we can make pizza and cookies and pies and yummy potatoes. Except that we've never made pies. Unfortunately, however, as the maintenance guy was leaving, he took a glance up to the ceiling and noticed the absence of our smoke detector . . . and the mistletoe in its place. He took one look at me and said, "ok, where is it?" Those readers unfamiliar with Redeemer's apartments should be informed that these fire alarms are located directly outside the bathroom door, and the bathrooms are equipped with ventilation fans which serve purely decorative purpose - they do not function as ventilation. In fact, if the shower is on for 30 seconds, the whole bathroom fogs up and as soon as the door is open, the smoke detector is activated. Every time. So imagine - two people living in an apartment, taking an average of one shower per person per day, this ends up with the alarm going off two times a day, 14 times a week, and a stunning total of 730 times per year. That is competitively worse than an oven timer going incessantly. So, before we moved into the apartment, the smoke detector had been removed by the previous occupants and we found it tucked away in a cupboard on top of the fridge. Now I fear that the mistletoe, which had happily taken its spot on the ceiling, will have to be removed and replaced with an oh-so-much-less fun smoke detector. Who needs fire regulations anyways?

Especially for Rebekah

After enjoying a great evening out drinking luxury coffee, eating fancy cookies, and talking about this, that, the other thing, and the meaning of life in general, I feel it is my duty to confirm to my wonderful teacher friend ex-roomie that her birthday gift coupon, which I neglected to bring with me last night to let her redeem it, has been officially deactivated. She is no longer on the hook for birthday treats, but anytime she wants to go out for coffee again, or whatever, I'd love to go!!

Pop Went the Fuse

For strange and somewhat amusing reasons, our oven is currently out of commission, and most likely will be in such a condition until next week as the campus maintenance men are gone for the weekend. It all started last week . . . for some reason or another, the timer was set for a random time on the ancient, possibly first-ever-constructed Kevinator mini-stove we have in our apartment. Upon reaching the set time, the timer went off. And off. And off. Or was it on? Well, off or on, the timer was buzzing and there was no way we could figure out how to turn it off. If you've never heard an oven timer on an ancient stove before, you should know that it has to be one of the most annoying noises ever created, especially when you know there is no good way to shut it off. So, off Mike ran to grab a pair of plyers, and, after pulling off all the dials on the front of the stove with no success in cancelling the noise, the whole center timer portion of the stove somehow became completely dislodged from its casing in the stove. So here we were, wires and innards of the stove hanging out on the stove top, and the buzzing continued. After random and frantic pulling of wires, the noise finally stopped. Oh, well, we thought, we didn't need that timer anyways. And we thought the story was done.
But lo it was not! Before he picked me up from work, Mike had made pizza dough so we could enjoy our wonderful and perfectly perfected pizza for supper. Having enjoyed proper stove functioning for a week or so, we expected nothing unexpected - it would be a simple matter of turning on the oven and letting it heat up, and then soon we would enjoy our pizza. But NO!! That was not to be. It was discovered that the evil buzzer, somehow and for some strange reason, had decided to associate itself not with the timer but with the temperature control knob on the oven; perhaps our oven is possessed but now it wanted to buzz when the oven is on. And that simply is not a good idea, if we would like to remain sane. And sane is good most of the time. Once more, it seemed an attack on the oven and its wires was warranted - out came the plyers again. This time, sparks were flying and buzzes went on and off, then sparks, then buzzes, then . . . . silence. And the discovery that the fuse popped, for some reason. All this excitement has made me very hungry.
Thank you Karen for letting us use your oven :)

Failing rambles

There's something about sitting behind a computer and staring at a screen that makes my mind go blank. I don't know if this is a case of minor writer's stage fright, or if it is a lingering effect of having graduated from university and leaving the world of essays, assignments and exams behind. Oh, I remember the days and late blurry nights of being chained to the Computer Beast, pumping out words and paragraphs and citations as though my life depended on it. I wonder how many hundreds of pages of writing a university graduate has put together over the years - and how many of those, on average, are a result of last-minute scrambling and caffeine-stimulated brain cells working in overdrive.
It seems that my morning cup of coffee isn't affecting my brain quite the way it used to.
I think my brain is shrinking.
I need a book.
Yes.

Hooray For Safe Returns

After over two months (actually I believe since Civic holiday Monday) our most favorite and cherished trivet/pot-holder has returned to his home in the tea-towel drawer. It is unfortunate that such objects are not equipped to relate to us their stories, because we certainly would like to know where he has been for those many weeks. With no warning at all, he just up and left that unfortunate day in August, leaving us bewildered and confused. Perhaps he grew tired of that small, dark little drawer, and after yearning to see the world beyond the kitchen, he finally decided to take off for a while. His return today was as unexpected and surprising as his departure - we just opened up the drawer, and there he was, nice and quiet, as if he had never left at all. Silly pot-holder!

Thanks

Well, Mike and I just finished our first ever Vander Deen family Thanksgiving dinner for two. Granted, it was a few days early, and did not include a turkey or apple pie, or even stuffing (not that I eat it anyways) but it was still very yummy and we were both thankful for it, so I think that qualifies it as a "Thanksgiving" dinner. Plus it's almost Thanksgiving, so what more do you need? Mike is such a wonderful cook - I came home from work to the smell of roast cooking and potatoes boiling, and by the time it was all said and done there was the table, laden with meat and potatoes and gravy and broccoli and cheese sauce. It certainly is easy to take all our many blessings for granted - here we are with great food on the table, each other to eat it with, meaningful things to fill up our days with, a place to live with everything we need and many things we don't, a fantastic family, a strengthening church community - when you are living in a bubble world of blessings it becomes almost hard to notice them unless you really sit back and count them. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

On podiatry and patience

I think my feet are just about ready to give up the ghost and fall off. They've been so overwhelmed by the whole new job thing that they've gone into shock, and I don't know how much hope to hold for their recovery. As soon as I'm done this blog, I'm going to dress them up in soft fuzzy socks, sit down with them on a comfortable chair and read them a good book. I'll treat them to some warm tea and perhaps even a piece of chocolate, and then a good night's sleep and we'll see how they are bright and early tomorrow morning. And THEN after all that, I'll take them along with me again to work and plunge them back into the marathon mayhem that I have learned is working the aisles at Staples.
On another note, it has not taken me very long at all to discover that this whole new blogger-identity that I have assumed is likely to do one of two things for me, both of which stem from the sporadic and unbelievably slow internet service provided to us by our trusty institutional landlord. I will either quickly learn a whole new level of patience and anger management techniques or I will be driven to such a level of frustration that the damage suffered by our computer may quickly end my new blogger career before it really takes off. Let's all hope for the first option, as everyone could use a little extra patience.

Welcome to the World of Blog

So. Several years after the word "blog" first entered my vocabulary, I have finally broken down and joined the mass of bloggers who post their minds on the net. Thanks to my wonderful sister-in-law Karen, I have (semi) committed myself to being creative and dedicated in drafting tidbits about my life and times, sending them into cyberspace for who-knows-who to read. For those who stumble in, be warned not to expect hilarious entertainment or the deepest philosophical thoughts - if these make their way in at all, they will be rare and created very late at night when the brain juices have started to ferment. Welcome to the world of Rachel!