It's only a Felony

I spent all of last week in St. Petersburg Florida for work.  Now if you buy the city's advertising, St. Pete's boasts Florida's best beaches, and a great and friendly marine life (including manatees and dolphins) which often comes to shore..... Not that I would know, I saw little more than the inside of the hotel and my office.

It thunderstormed every single day that week, and the humidity kept climbing - even when you thought it couldn't get any higher.  It was stifling, and I feel like that's an understatement.

I had some trouble sorting out a flight home, and ended up staying through to Saturday.  So I found myself late Friday afternoon bored out of my mind, with work completed and stuck in the hotel because of the storm outside. 

To pass the time I decided to make use of the Spa located in the hotel, and get a manicure.  It was a very expensive manicure ($27) which I anticipated as a Spa located in a Hilton Hotel.  So despite the fact that it's about twice the price of a manicure at home, I went ahead and booked it.

I arrived for my manicure, and was introduced to my manicurist.  She was completely covered in tattoos, including one on her bicep which I thought was Freddy Mercury, but it turns out it was Burt Reynolds.  Not a problem or anything, just an unusual look for a manicurist in a Spa in a fancy hotel.  She also had a ring through the middle of her nose, which looked like the ring you find in a bull's nose.  And to top off her look, she had several piercings in each ear, with her primary piercing having spacers in, and the hole was looking big enough to carry the nail polish bottle in it.

Normally when you get a professional manicure, there are numerous steps include a hand and wrist massage some cuticle clean-up, and a soft filing of the nail bed itself, not just a sharing of the nail.  I got a very quick soak, nail shaping file, and then the polish.  That's it.  I paid $27 dollars for less care than I give myself at home for free.

So putting that aside, I was of course chatting with my manicurist.  I have no idea how we got on the subject, but she mentioned that she was ineligible to vote, because she was a felon.  Not the typical thing you expect to hear form your manicurist.  Then she went on to explain that it's not a big deal, it was only a DUI with a drug possession charge.  Trying to take it all in a stride, we continue our conversation.  So we get on to how she can in fact go through a process to have her record expunged, that it takes 10 years and that it can get expensive.  When I suggested that she might want to start the process sooner than later, since it is a 10 year process....she said she had started it, but you have to have a clean record for that 10 year period, and she was recently arrested again for a DUI.

At this point in my experience I was at the tail end of my pretty crappy half service manicure, but I had a strong conviction to smile and say it's great, and tip well.  I was most definitely not interested in incurring the wrath of my felon-manicurist.
  
She was in fact a nice girl, who had obviously gotten herself into a bit of a cycle of trouble.  In retrospect, I wonder if this is an intentional strategy on the Spa's part to ensure good revenue.  Not a bad plan if you ask me - it most definitely worked on me.

Angry @ my Pants

Have you ever found yourself angry at an inanimate object?  So much so that you couldn't stand to look at it anymore?

I've actually had that experience twice now.  The first time was years ago while I was away on business in Ottawa.  That Christmas we had received a $100 gift card from work as a Christmas bonus.  I took my gift card in early January and decided to use the whole thing to buy a nice purse for everyday work use.  At this point in time it was the most I had ever spent on a handbag.  And it was a beautiful camel coloured Liz Claiborne bag.  I received numerous compliments on the bag.  All in all I was feeling it was a great purchase, it fit all of my work documents, lunch, usual purse contents, etc...

Early March I was on business in Ottawa, and of course had taken my fab new bag.  Day 2 into my week long trip, my bag broke.  That's right, the stitching completely unravelled and the handle came right off the hardware buckle, and it slipped off my shoulder and onto the dirty gravel.

I was Angry!  It was the most money I had ever spent on a purse up to that point in time, and it was my first one to ever break.  While I was away on business, and unable to just come home and switch to another one!
I was forced to purchase, which fueled my anger.
So I went to a nearby Zellers, and purchased the cheapest handbag I could find.  It's important to note here that it was also Liz Claiborne but this time only $10, and I still own it today, several years later.

I was so Angry with the offending purse, that I was planning to throw it out.  I ended up giving it to a friend, who said it was repairable, and shouldn't be thrown out.

Yesterday, was my second such anger experience.  Ironically enough it was another article of the Liz Claiborne brand - this time my pants.

I am innocently using the ladies room @ work, when I notice that the stitching has come out at the seam of my pants in the read-end.  So there's this hole in my pants, which I just notice around 2pm.  And it's pretty low down, so no shirt or sweater is going to cover the offending area. 
Suffice it to say that I did a very good job of sitting for the rest of my workday.

After work, I was slotted to go to my Mom's place.  When I got there, I was so angry @ my pants that I threw them out.  So then my dilemma became, what to wear home, since my pants were in the trash.  I have spare PJs @ my Mom's, so I wore pajama bottoms home.

Here's the moral of the story - if I get angry I like to throw the offender in the trash (so don't make me mad when we're around a garbage bin).

Hopefully it'll be several years before this phenomenon resurfaces again....

You know you've been working too long when.....

I've started creating "SMART" goals for my life in general, and think in terms of quarters.

Here's what I'd like to accomplish this quarter...
We should get together at least once a quarter.....
My birthday is in Q4, that's next quarter...

Sad state of affairs!

The Miraverse Time Paradox

First you'll need some context.
The Miraverse has been derived from the phrase 'the Mira Universe".

In the encapsulation of the Miraverse time and space, is the reality and the fantasy me that exist simultaneously.
For example the Fantasy me, gets up @ 6am, goes for a jog in a cute outfit everyday, makes her own bread and jam, makes her own clothes (haute couture of course), knits prolifically, hand makes most gifts for others. Embroiders pillowcases, speaks 6 languages, etc...
You get the picture.

The reality me spends a lot of time feeling tired, watching TV, working, working some more, and sneaking as much time out with friends as possible.
Not horrible, but a far cry from the fantasy me.

Ok so here's where the time paradox kicks in. I have been working pretty hard lately. Not that I don't always work hard, but it has included a lot of extra hours. I feel totally disconnected from much else. I am so busy these days, that I am getting frustrated with my schedule.

I have been mentally looking forward to this long week-end for ages! It's been a literal countdown for maybe 2 weeks.

So Friday night was the David Crowder Concert @ Queensway. Rush to finish work a smidgen early, rush to get to the church - complete frustration on an almost completely stopped highway with 4 students who are hot, restless and hungry in the car for well over an hour and fifteen minutes, rush to get something to eat (so hungry, I actually feel sick at this point), miss the entire opening act which was Hillsong Youth.

Saturday, another very, very full day - gym workout, laps in the pool, fixing the steering wheel controls on the car (oh, as an aside, Kevin & Bruce totally figured it out, and it was a faulty harness - so I promised them some kind of manly magic wands, because they were like fairy godmothers - any suggestions on manly magic wands?), visit with friends in the evening.

Today started out with me having to get to church early for welcoming team, then I picked up a pizza for lunch, took a nap, and then ran to Costco to pick a pie for tomorrow's festivities.

Now I am totally bored. I could be knitting, baking, making bread, something - but I am lump on the sofa bored.

So I spend the bulk of my time wishing, hoping, praying for some free time, some slack from the busyness - and then as soon as I get it, I don't know what to do with myself, and I dislike it.

The Miraverse Time Paradox.

Getting Caught in the Rain

I was in Montreal for most of last week on business. Montreal is reputed to be an amazing city, with shopping, dining and sights that are from another time and place. Sadly while I know this to be true, this was not my experience last week.

My office, and hence my hotel is in a suburb called ST.Laurent. It's close to the airport, and not much else.
So I was only there for 2 nights...and there were a few restaurants and such within walking distance of my hotel.

The first night, it was raining when I went to walk out, and so I wisely borrowed a hotel umbrella from the concierge. But the second night it was sunny, without a cloud in the sky when I left the hotel and I did not consider the possibility of rain later on.

So I was bored, and had done a lot of perusing of the sparse offerings the night before - I needed something that I could do that would use up a good chunk of my evening. Enter - the movie theater I walked by. I figured I could get something to eat in there, and watching a movie would take me to around 9pm, at which time I could go back to my hotel, get ready for bed, and manage to have passed the evening away.

If you know me at all, you know that I am a SUPER SOCIAL person, and going to the movies alone is pretty low on my list of fun things to do. But I figured I needed to just suck it up, and go for it.
So I buy my ticket, and dinner (can you believe I got chicken fingers and fries from the concession stand?!?) and head into the theater.

I am the only person in the theater. Ok, it is a Thursday night, and the movie doesn't star for another 20 minutes, but seriously - the ONLY ONE! This is getting creepy.

About 5 minutes before the movie starts a couple walks in, I can't tell you the relief I feel. They come in, and sit directly behind me. I make a funny comment about how glad I am they came in, and didn't leave me alone. We strike up a conversation, and chit-chat until the lights dim and the movie begins.

Approximately halfway through the movie, I start hearing some noises from behind me. Now, naive as I am, it took me a minute to realize that my new friends, were being exceptionally friendly with each other. Ok, no problem, just ignore them, and make sure to not even hint at turning around.
Once the movie was over they went darting out before the house lights came on, but the guy did pause for a second to wish me an enjoyable rest of my trip in Montreal.

I step out of the theater, and it's thunder storming. I take a deep breath, pull my incredibly flimsy shrug closer in around my neck, clamp my hand on my purse, and step out into the action. It's cold, and the rain drops are heavy, they actually hurt as they land on me. I get about halfway to the hotel when this car stops, the passenger window rolls down, and the lone male driver offers me a lift. Now I'm from Toronto, and I have an ethnic mother (who's a catastrophizer) I have already identified the 17 ways this man could capture, molest, torture and kill me before he finished rolling the window down. So I kind of frown at him, and he figures I don;t understand his French, so he repeats his offer in English. I frown even more deeply (if that's possible) and say "Non, ça va" I didn't even say thank you. He shrugs, rolls up his window and drives on.
Now it occurs to me that not every stranger who stops to help has to have evil intentions. I would never actually get into a car with a single strange man - but I could have been a little nicer in my declining his offer.

I get back to the hotel, soaked through, and my adventures seem to be over for the evening.

The next morning, I am leaving my hotel room, the door shuts behind me, and I hear some unusual noises from the room directly across mine. Now it's 7:45am, and all's quiet on the eastern front - except for the strange noises. Again, I'm a little slow when it comes to these things, and it is pretty early in the morning - it took me a minute to register what I was hearing.

What is up with Montreal?! That's twice in less than twenty-four hours. Although hopefully the folks in the movie theater were not quite as engaged as the folks in the hotel room. At this point it's conjecture - but I'd like to believe that it's true.

That's what happens when I get caught in the rain.