Hella Stella

My head is feeling approximately one million times better. This is good.

I was going to weigh in on the parole office debate going on in my neighbourhood, but Megan says it better that I ever could. I agree ten million times over.

It's really easy to get hysterical about these kinds of issues, but it's sometimes better to take a breath and look at the facts. The facts are not nearly as scary as the television drama-version of the issue. What can I say? We live in a television drama-seeking world. This is the kind of issue where people let their imaginations run wild: parole office = dangerous offenders in the area = CERTAIN DEATH. I assure you, I have a vivid imagination, but I don't think moving the parole office nearby will magically make my neighbourhood seedy. Many of the parolees live in and around Centretown as it is. They are my neighbours; your neighbours. There will be no magical influx, no sudden transformation, no night and day difference. There will simply be a parole office... Moved. For chrissakes, the current parole office isn't even that far away - I can walk there in ten minutes.

Huh. I guess I weighed in after all.

This has got me thinking about my neighbourhood more generally, and what makes me so attached to it. I only moved here last August, but I am far more crazy about these streets than I was in my much quieter neighbourhood of Old Ottawa South. As charming as that area was, it was also rich and tame (I am neither of those things, as several of you can attest to). I like the sights and sounds down here. I like that I may one day be able to afford a house in the area, whereas my chances of owning anything past the Glebe would be limited to a large fruit crate. I like, nay, love my neighbours and my community.

It's all good.

Finding a community like this is why I love Ottawa. It's why I'd like to stay here, why I suffer through the harsh winters and bake in the heat all summer. It's not perfect, but at the same time, it's perfect for me.

If you need a cheer-up today, I encourage you to visit this site and let yourself giggle. There is profanity, but who the fuck am I kidding, you wouldn't be coming here if you cared.

I am not feeling so fresh this morning.

I'm not sure whether to blame it on alcohol consumption, bad sleep or excessive furniture rearranging. Perhaps it was all three that did me in. Either way, I will be very glad when this day is over. My head feels like a cinder block.

The delightful JonnyB has described the Disney experience much better than I can. Please enjoy his rendition of meeting the main Mouse. He must be relieved his mother-in-law was not there to make him sit on Mickey's lap!

Unrelated: May I describe one of my pet peeves?

I watch a lot of TV news, and I do not understand this aggravating trend of reporting extremely stupid studies. Here are some simplified examples of recent studies I've been subjected to:

Too many vitamins are bad for you.
Vitamins are great - take them all the time.
Smoking can shorten your life.
Being extremely fat is unhealthy.
Getting lots of sleep can make you feel rested.
Showering makes you clean.

WHAT THE FUCKING HELL. Are these things not common sense? Who in their right mind would pay for a study that tells us being morbidly obese is unhealthy? It makes me twitchy!

That is all for today - I must now focus my mind away from the overwhelming craving for Ethiopian food that just took over my brain.

XUP actually managed to guess where I went last night, so I may as well spill the beans. I went to Disney on Ice. No, seriously. Me. There.

First, a disclaimer that I know some of you out there really love Disney, and that's cool with me. It's just that since I outgrew the Little Mermaid, I haven't been able to stomach Disney-style cheese and I now avoid it like the plague.

So how did I end up losing two hours of my life in a hockey arena surrounded by thousands of screaming children in a sea of fluorescent pink cotton candy?

My mum-in-law loves Disney. So does my dad-in-law. So does their youngest son. And there was an extra ticket. When I was asked, I couldn't think of an excuse not to go, and I honestly didn't expect it to make my brain bleed the way it did.

The experience was... Interesting. Mostly humiliating. A lot of the kids were my height, and while I know I'm short, it was a bit of a jarring reminder. Also, my MIL made all of us sit on Mickey's lap and take a picture. I'M NOT EVEN JOKING. There is photographic evidence that I was at Disney on Ice, and it involves me sitting on Mickey Mouse's lap with a look of frozen horror on my face. I assure you, if I wasn't surrounded by family and a bunch of snotty children, I could have done much funnier things with that situation.

Perhaps you think I'm spineless for tagging along and even posing for the photo.... But honestly, that woman is so good to me. The least I can do is spend some time doing the things she likes to do. After all, she once showed up to a lesbian music festival I was playing at to say hi before my set. She's cool like that.

I woke up this morning with a crazy migraine, and so did my dad-in-law, so we're guessing that the Disney pyrotechnics show does bad things to a person's brain.

I personally think the migraine was caused by getting the Mickey theme song in my head and humming it as I went to sleep. That's enough to cause brain damage. Let's be honest.

Today is the kind of beautiful I've been dreaming about all winter. My BH and I are going to a BBQ for the first time since the fall. Best of all? I peeled the plastic off my windows!! It doesn't get much better than that.

Dang.

After posting about how I'm worried my friends will lose their jobs, I get a few messages that yes, indeed, they are losing their jobs. So, fuck. Seriously. Media Cull of 2009? FUCK YOU.

My BH passed out last night before the knitting book launch (I hear ya XUP, he's a sleepy boy), and I was getting seriously worried that he wouldn't wake up in time to go to the event. I'm a fairly light sleeper, but my BH sleeps with the heaviness of a dump truck and he's impossible to wake.

Thankfully, Milan stopped by to give me an awesome bulldog comic strip, and the visit was enough to rouse my sleepy BH. Thanks Milan! I owe you one knitted item (please make it something simple, for your own sake).

So we made it to the book launch, which was probably even more fun than we were expecting. Have you guys been to Workshop on Dalhousie? It was held there, and man, I love that store. They had food, a live jazz band, shopping, and of course, my hot knitting teacher. She signed our books ("To my favourite knitting students EVER") and she even remembered how to spell my BH's name. It's been two years since we took classes, so that's pretty admirable.

Her book is so great that I'm inspired to start knitting again. Even though I can't really remember anything past casting on. Booo. I'd also like to stock up on cotton yarn, because wool makes me itch more and more every year. Does anyone know a good store that carries nice cotton yarns? I know there are some knitters out there...

Tonight I'm going to *mumblemumblemumble* and this weekend will be a laundry marathon.

Bring on the 15 degree sunshine!!

My hot knitting teacher wrote a book with her very famous knitting author mom.* They are having their book launch tonight. My BH and I are going and I am nerdily excited about it. I never know what to wear around my knitting teacher. She always looks like a million dollars. It's kind of intimidating. I usually look like I rolled out of bed into a puddle of mud.

Perhaps I shall wear lipstick to fool the masses.

My BH had a fancy presentation to make today, so this morning he got dressed up in a suit with a pink dress shirt and tie. I think I've mentioned how I feel about men in pink shirts. Naturally, he had to pry me off him when I woke up and had a look at his fine self.

This weekend, I'm hoping to do more spring cleaning. With my BH's help, we're going to do a bit of a drastic rearranging of the apartment. This is partly because we just feel like a change, but also because we have just inherited a giant workout bench and weight set. I'm not sure any amount of rearranging will make a workout bench look good, so it may have to live in the basement with the ghouls.

A few of you know that I studied journalism and worked in radio for a while. Several years ago, I turned down an offer to help produce a show for CBC in Toronto. It was the kind of job I'd always dreamed about, but I had just taken my current job and was tied to Ottawa in a million other ways. I said no, and have occasionally regretted it. But considering the state of the media these days, not to mention the 800 positions being cut from CBC, I wonder what sort of divine intervention led me to stay in what is arguably a fairly tame office job. I'm also quite worried for my friends who are probably losing their jobs right now.

I could go on about this issue ad nauseam, but you didn't sign up to read a novel.

I've agreed to go on an outing with my mother-in-law tomorrow. She's lovely and it's fun to spend time with her, but our tastes, uh, differ. Which is why I'm a bit embarrassed to tell you where we're going.

Nevermind. I'm not telling.

Talk amongst yourselves.

*This may seem like a silly thing to say, but she has sold more knitting books than I would have ever thought possible. I think her first book is still considered the highest-selling craft book EVER.

I have bumped into several bloggers in my neighbourhood recently, and the consensus over Morty's ass explosion seems to be "sucks for you, but damn it was funny to read."

I can live with that. I will write about my pain if it amuses you. But luckily for me, the pills seem to be working and Morty is no longer leaking every time he sits down.

What? I'm just sayin'...

Remember yesterday when I alluded to both Morty and my BH being sleep-talkers? Sure enough, when I went to tell my BH that I was heading to bed, he sleepily shouted "PANCAKES!" and resumed snoring into the couch cushion. He has no recollection of this, but does remember Morty growling at something in his dreams.

I went to bed at 8pm last night. That means I got 11 hours of sleep. That means I feel like a fairy princess today. I wonder what life would be like if I was always this cheerful?

My BH got even more sleep than me, probably for the first time in about a year. This morning he was singing songs and cracking jokes, and I realized how drastically low sleep affects his moods. It was like I had a brand new partner standing next to me, but with the same hot bod as the one before! So excited for his degree to be done. So excited.

Only one year left.

I am wearing my favourite post-work uniform: ragged boyfriend sweater, ratty pink pj pants and t-shirt that says I am a "fantastic father." I'm not looking smoking hot per se, but holy hell am I comfortable.

My BH is asleep face-down on the couch, and Morty has taken this opportunity to curl up on his ass. It's the cutest. It'll be even better when they both start muttering in their sleep.

Today was rough... Lack of sleep, lack of lunch, general annoyances that come with office work. I am so happy to be home.

All I've got left on my slate is feeding Morty his pill, cleaning the kitchen, and going to bed. I'd love to be asleep by 7:30 tonight.

I'll tuck in before the sun.

Happy end of Monday.