17 May 2012
Guest-less again
As a result of all this traffic, I've become pretty good at turning over our guest room and getting it up to scratch for the next arrival. I feel like I may have missed my calling in the hospitality industry...would you like mint for pillow?
While I certainly don't mind the constant influx of visitors, I'm going to have to get better at learning how to maintain my routine when guests come to visit. I cherish being able to get to the gym (and it's physio-related anyway, so I have to make it a priority) and also being on top of my game where our meals are concerned. I've noticed that when guests come I end up adopting their vacation mentality, which isn't going to bode well for me if our guest rate stays at this level. Just because people come to stay doesn't mean that my good habits should go out the window; I need to still make it a priority to take care of myself and James. I feel better when I take the time to care for myself and it isn't fair to me that I feel I can't take that time just because we have guests.
That said, I also need to get better at being a hands-off host. Obviously if guests want company for activities (and they ask me to accompany them) and they fit with my schedule, then yes, I'd love to go along. I've gotten to have some interesting experiences and learn some really neat stuff as a result of hosting so many different people for which I'm very thankful! It's been a fantastic by-product of this move and something I wouldn't give up for the world. But I need to learn that I can't make my guests' vacation into my vacation. I'm comfortable with the city, but I'm by no means a pro. I can't tell you what everything we pass happens to be or why something is the way it is...I'm still learning too! And aside from the whirlwind itinerary I'm planning for my folks, I can't feel pressured to making the plans for every guest who arrives at our doorstep. It's going to leave me feeling disappointed, upset and guilty and that's not cool. I can't take responsibility for everyone's vacation, nor should I feel obligated to ensure that everyone has a good time. That's out of my control.
So yeah, that's what I'm going to be working on in the coming months. Being a good host with reasonable limits. I suspect it will be much easier once I'm working since James' attitude is completely different and far more in line with the one I'd like to adopt.
15 May 2012
I HAVE A BROTHER!
You see, I made sure, before I left Canada, that he and my parents each had a device that would be able to connect with us via FaceTime. So I thought we would have it all sorted with his iPhone. I mean, the kid has FaceTime and iMessage, both of which are free, so there's nothing stopping us, right? Apparently my younger brother leads such a busy and technophobic existence that making contact was incredibly difficult. I eventually forced a few iMessage conversations, but it wasn't really trucking along on the communication front.
Then I found out, through my parents (during a FaceTime conversation - they figured it out right away), that my brother was miffed at not being mentioned on this blog. Well, let me tell you, if you're not gonna contact your only sibling after she repeatedly emails and messages, well, you're not getting a mention until FaceTime happens. And that was my stance for a couple of months.
Thankfully my brother not only figured out how to use FaceTime, he also called me on it and we talked for nearly two hours! As pursuant to the terms of my grudge, Michael now gets a mention. And I've included some photos for everyone's amusement. Hopefully after this we are still talking. Hopefully on FaceTime.
Enjoy.
10 May 2012
My parent's vacation starts tomorrow
9 May 2012
Salt: Now it's just ridiculous
Well, how about this photo:
On the plus side, I was having a rather out of sorts day and when I realised that this was the only option for dishwasher salt I got to have a much-needed laugh in the aisle at the grocery store. Yeah, nothing off-putting about a girl staring at the salt, alone, and laughing.
So, I bought the salt and dragged it home. It was only then that I re-read the directions regarding the salt. You know, the ones I posted to the blog not a week earlier?? Yeah, apparently I was so stunned by the dishwasher-needs-salt issue that I misread how much salt was actually required. I have highlighted this for the convenience of the tl;dr crowd:
4 May 2012
There was an election
2 May 2012
Hmm, the dishwasher could use more salt
27 April 2012
The doctor's secretary is very thorough
- one phone call
- two personally written emails
- one auto-generated email
- three text messages
- and a mailed letter
25 April 2012
I need to be more mediocre and why we can't hire a cleaner
Before you start raising objections that James is very capable of cleaning and I should cut him some slack, know that I'm probably a more thorough cleaner than he will ever hope to be and that it isn't his fault. He just wasn't raised by my family. So as he's trundling about doing whatever task I politely requested, I'm bulldozing through the rooms doing a fanatic job of vacuuming every surface (how is that not a recognized verb??). He walks by me at one point and notices the TV remote might be in my way, so he helpfully moves it to one of the side coffee tables. Immediately I correct him,
Me: "That can't go there"
James: (confused look)
Me: "I haven't vacuumed (again, not a verb...why!?) that yet"
James: "You're going to vacuum the coffee tables??"
Me: "Well, yes, but with the dusting attachment, not the floor brush" (Insert the "well, duh" voice)
James: (stunned look) "Can I put it on the dining room table?"
Me: "Of course, I don't vacuum the dining room table - that's silly!"
The dining room table, in fact, is cleaned using other methods.
What this all means is that I can't hire a cleaner. And again, before you get all nasty with me, know that since moving here I've found that hiring a cleaner is incredibly normal, even for renters with seemingly available time for doing such things as scrubbing their own toilets. More to my point, however, are questions such as, will the cleaner do the baseboards EVERY TIME? Will they vacuum the couch in a manner that restores it to near-new conditions? Will they use the dusting attachment to clean the lampshades on the bedside tables and then use the crease tool to vacuum inside the wall sconces? I highly doubt they will. And if they do, how much am I going to have to pay for that sort of methodical work?
If I were willing to accept a more mediocre standard, I'd be a-ok with mediocre work. But as it is, I can't. For better or worse, I cannot settle in this or any other such matters.
21 April 2012
My derby heart is breaking
I've been with the Slaughter Daughters since they were born (and before that too - long story, not worth discussing). With my injury putting me out of play for the last two seasons, I've been supporting, sewing and helping to jammer manage on the bench. Watching them skate without me while I was injured was hard, but I was comforted by having a place on the bench to still be a part of the machine. Now that I'm in London I can't help them at all or share in any of the fun. All I can do is tune into Canuck Derby TV and watch from over on my side of the pond (and scream at the monitor...which I've been doing). It's been a really hard day for me. I miss them so much and wish I could be there for them.
20 April 2012
English Weather
- No snow...or at least very little. It's currently snowing in certain parts of Canada. I'd rather not be a part of that. But when it does snow here, people are all a-tizzy about it and act like children. Do you remember, Canada, what it felt like to experience snow as a child? Yeah, I'd forgotten as well, but these people aren't so over-exposed that they're complacent. It's wonderful. We had snowball fights.
- Along with that no snow thing, imagine no crazy freezing temperatures. Some of the people I've talked to didn't even realise negative 34C was a temperature people CHOSE to live in for months at a time.
- We may not be getting the extreme highs that Ontario is (unseasonally) getting, but then again, we're also not going from 28C to 6C in a 24 hour period. I'll take a consistent 12C or 14C for the better part of the spring, thank you very much.
- English rain is actually pretty calming and subtle. Granted, this week we've also had some serious thunder, but from what people at the pub told me, it's unusual and they were pretty freaked out by it all. I, of course, loved it. I was reminded of standing on the front porch or in the garage with my dad and watching the weather change and tire itself out. Today I was certain people thought I'd gone loony - I willingly walked home from the gym in an amazing downpour (including a moment of hail) with a huge grin on my face. It was just really peaceful and felt like the perfect moment.
- This is serious pants weather. And by pants, I mean trousers. Because pants are underwear, according to Brits. And I'd rather not talk about my underwear on the blog since my family reads this (shout out to Lilac Lingerie in Ottawa! I miss you!). So North America pants = trousers. I love trousers. I'm not huge on shorts and I've only recently really branched out into dresses and skirts, but oh man, can I rock a pair of trousers. Therefore, this weather is pleasing to my sartorial direction.
- Also, I hate to sweat. Or rather, I hate to sweat when I'm doing NOTHING. Sweating at the gym or because it is warranted it completely acceptable. But what I don't care for is sitting on a patio in the middle of Elgin St, having a drink with friends and feeling sweat run down my back. Humid, sweaty Ottawa, I'm sorry, you lose on this point too.
- The light here is remarkable. Even when it's overcast and rainy, it's still abundantly luminous. I like that a lot.
- Weather here is constantly changing, which I adore. I love getting up to a bright sunny day and getting things done, then getting a good dose of rain in the afternoon just in time for tea so that I get all snuggly on the couch. It's fantastic. Sort of schizophrenic, but fantastic.
18 April 2012
Pounds and pence
17 April 2012
Lessons learned on tour
This is the longest tour I've had the pleasure of experiencing with the band (I'm one of two go-go dancers. I know, right? Ridiculous fun) and I've learned a few things over the last two weeks of tour:
- Having seven people in our flat meant a trip to Argos to buy an air mattress. And I got the privilege of carrying home said air mattress on the bus. Slogan on the side of the box? INFLATE YOUR FUN. Yup. Not sketchy at all. *eye roll*
- Only one set of keys for five guests makes for some seriously complex scheduling...but someone (poor drummer) will still spend a late, rainy evening on the front porch waiting to be let inside. Bonus knowledge: our wifi extends to the front porch, so you won't necessarily be bored!
- If you wait until the last minute to buy your go-go boots, you're going to end up with a pair that permanently smell as though they've been through a warehouse fire. In fact, for the price you pay, you can guarantee they have!
- Seven people. One toilet. *shudder*
- There hits a point where everyone just needs alone time. It's perfectly acceptable and necessary for band survival.
- I am not made for staying in a hostel. No matter how "nice" it may be.
- Chips, cheese and curry is an amazing combination and the closest poutine substitute available over here.
- Not everyone appreciates having their antics captured on digital video...and broadcast to Twitter.
- No matter how hard you try, your eating habits will, for the most part, go right out the window when trying to accommodate six other peoples' needs and preferences. Relax, go with it and get to the gym the second they leave.
- Band sickness exists. It is inevitable and it will take you all down one by one. The person who escapes it is a jerk for not getting involved and participating
16 April 2012
Missing Molly
14 April 2012
A wrinkle in my plan
With all of this knowledge at his disposal, he still chose to pull the freshly-laundered-but-not-yet-meticulously-ironed shirt from the hanger, and believe it was a wise move. Foolish, foolish James.
Point of Interest: Martha Stewart has an entire ROOM in one of her houses devoted to ironing. She has huge machines that iron sheets. I think I've mentioned this somewhere before. She's my ironing hero, second to my dad, who taught me how to iron (Sorry dad, Martha has a whole room for ironing. You taught me to iron in the laundry room - true, that is a room, but with multiple uses so it just isn't the same). James clearly doesn't have an ironing hero...if he did, he wouldn't commit such a heinous crime against good taste.
God, and he won't stop talking so that I can finish this before I lose Internet connection. C'mon James! Yeesh.
13 April 2012
A little audio from Brighton Beach
This is my test-run with an audio recording I took while James and I were at Brighton Beach in February. If this doesn't entirely cock up, I have a bunch more I'd like to post. As added pressure, I'm on a train headed for Scotland when this is scheduled to post, so that's definitely tempting fate to have this backfire. Or be entirely all too brilliant. We'll see.
When we were at the beach it hit me how the waves make a noise similar to those hokey rain stick thingies as they're receding from the rocks. I liked it so much I wanted to record it, but only had my iPhone. So that's what I'm doing now. Recording the world on my iPhone.
12 April 2012
Buying salt
11 April 2012
Less me. I get it, I get it
In an effort to be less about my medical history, because let's be honest, aside from my mom, NONE of you care for the details, I thought I should give you a little tour of our flat! And that means this post relies heavily on photos, relieving the all-consuming pressure I feel to be the brilliant spark of amusement in your mid-week work routine. Sighs of relief all around. If you've already received the virtual tour via FaceTime, I won't be offended (much) if you scroll to the bottom feigning interest and then carry on with your day.
10 April 2012
Physio revisited
I showed up at the hospital for the CT scan and was taken to the machine. The same doctor who performed my ultrasound was present and they took a number of scans to try to see what they were after. When he'd had enough of that, he decided he wasn't getting the imaging he wanted from the CT so he casually suggested we walk across the hall to the MRI. Canadians, please pick up your dropped jaws. I know. I was dying over how casual the whole affair was. No rebooking at another facility, no waiting several months, no showing up at a children's hospital at one in the morning to sneak into their machines while they slept. None of that. Remember: I'm on private care here. Apparently if I were on NHS (think OHIP equivalent, but across the country), it would still be relatively simple. I'm sceptical, but that's what I've been told. Anyway, into the machine I go and within minutes we're done.
Once I'd changed out of my fashionable gown/house coat ensemble, I returned to James in the inner waiting room by the MRI. The doctor overseeing my whole diagnostic affair was sitting in a dark room at the end of the hall and he beckoned for us to join him. On the screen in front of him he had both my CT and MRI images side by side and was doing crazy digital comparisons of both. He proceeded to point out what he was looking at and explain several of the findings to me on the spot. I was just thrilled. James was slightly taken aback ("Did you see your ovaries?! He could see your ovaries!"). As I left to pay for the tests I was handed a disc with all my images from the day on them. I was on my own little Cloud 9.
I went back in to see my main doctor and we discussed the options. It was very clear that the scarring was superficial and didn't affect either muscle - it was just inconveniently wedged between them, making it difficult to resolve. Because surgery was going to require doing damage to the muscles that were perfectly fine, it was ruled out and the option we came back to was physiotherapy. At this point, I was done. I came in too optimistic and hoping for a wild, radical, revolutionary solution to get me set right asap. Hearing that physio was the recommended course of action put me right back to the countless hours (and thousands of dollars) already spent in Canada on this injury and that was it for me: I cried. My doctor became uncomfortable. All around, it was a lose-lose scenario. I couldn't get my points across and he was at a total loss for how to handle me further. So he wrote out the name, address and phone number of the physiotherapy practice he'd like me to visit and I took my leave.
Apparently my crying was difficult for him because within minutes of leaving my doctor's office, he'd called the physio practice and had a discussion with them regarding my case. Then they called me to book me an appointment. I was gob-smacked. And relieved.
I was exceptionally hasty to judge the physio recommendation because what I've experienced in physio in the UK is completely unlike any of the care I received in Canada. It's not to say it's better, just very, very different. Quite frankly, it's kicking my butt. I've got a constantly updating list of exercises to do and am expected to be in the gym doing weights four or five days a week. On top of skating. And at-home stretches and movements. And now I'm running. I secretly believe my physiotherapist wants to make me into a marathon runner.
The physio practice has a podiatrist on site who has assessed my gait and alignment. That was a strange experience in itself, but it has given me a better insight into my body. I'm very symmetrical, apparently, with high arches. Combined with a few other factors, it was decided that I should change my running shoes immediately. Good thing too, mine are filthy. So with his recommendation in hand, I went to Runners Need as directed and picked up a pair of Brooks Adrenaline. Now, five weeks into physio, I'm feeling pretty positive. It's all steps towards getting me fully functioning, but even more than that, it's helping to decrease the pain. Skin pain still abounds, but it takes less time to subside now.
If I can be permitted, which, let's be honest, I can, I consider this to be mehab Step 4: get your body sorted.
9 April 2012
More mehab. The Things.
In any case, when I feel like I'm more in control of my environment, I'm better able to handle situations. Thanks mehab!
8 April 2012
Mehab. It's a real thing, I swear
There, since I've made up mehab, I've also just made up the first step in the mehab treatment process: admit you are an adult. I'm already rocking this recovery plan. That I invented. Shut up.
So what did my mehab involve? Well, I could say I disconnected a little bit...but if you follow me on Twitter or Facebook or Instagram or anywhere else online, you know that's sort of a fib. So basically, other than blogging, I was still around. But the blogging part was on my mind....I just wasn't in a place where I could produce output, you know? I spent a lot of time absorbing information and thinking about all sorts of things related to who I've become and what I would rather be (and what I do actually like about who I am). And I also covered some basics like learning how to walk again (thank you, amazing physiotherapist who is kicking my ass and correcting two years of injury issues) and how to eat again.
The eating thing is actually a huge one for me. There's this blogger, Danielle, over at Sometimes Sweet and back in the beginning of February she challenged her readers to eat clean. She also added the part about dropped sugar as it related to her, but since I have a sordid saccharine history, I included that in my plan too. This challenge coincided with moving into our flat and having almost nothing in our cupboards as well as me having all the time in the world, so it was the perfect way to embrace a new pattern of eating. And so we did. I've gone from a sugar-heavy diet of "I thought I ate really well" to turning my back on sugar and really embracing food changes that are more meaningful and beneficial for my body. To say that this has been a huge change is probably an understatement.
I've had serious improvements in my body, skin and moods and in the most recent two weeks, it has shown dramatically. We've had guests for a while now and my routines are off, which means my choices are bad and my diet has suffered. The hiccups are so evident and I'm hating how difficult it is to make better choices when my life is disrupted, so that's something I need to work toward overcoming. I truly believe spending more time in picking up recipes that I love and can make easily will make a difference on that front. Thankfully I've been exposed to so many amazing blogs and clean eating resources, so recipes are plentiful.
In any case, Danielle, some woman in the United States, whom I've never met (and likely never will), changed my life. The internet is powerful ya'll!
15 February 2012
Oh look, it's Wednesday
This last little while has been full of much-needed me time. After the commotion of trying to settle in and set up our new home (or get as close to finished as I can for the moment) I felt exhausted and also couldn't quite figure out how to manage my new routine. As if adapting to British living and exploring the neighbourhood weren't enough, I took on all the laundry, ironing, house work, shopping and, don't die from shock....in fact, if you know me well, sit down.....I also do all of our cooking now. Yeah, I know. I'll let that soak in a minute.
I found I needed a little break from talking about things. I have told my parents a few bits and pieces, but FaceTime has been very useful in letting me know that people really don't get as excited as I do about things like finding the perfect garbage can, the back-and-forth ordeal with my recent trolley purchase (spoiler: it was resolved and I love my trolley), and, as I learned today, not everyone shares my enthusiasm over finding the best glass/mirror cleaner I've ever used. Seriously, this stuff is incredible and I now fully trust that man in the little hardware store. He will always get my business first, if ever necessary.
Last week had me back at a doctor's office. I actually got in touch with my specialist in Ottawa and explained to her that I need help. My leg is painful far too often and, for a while there, the colour was going off again. On her recommendation I contacted a doctor who deals in "difficult" cases. I've seen a few really impressive docs, but I think he might have the best resume. He's also lovely and things move quickly in his clinic. I had my appointment on the Thursday. Friday morning I had my ultrasound and X-ray and tomorrow, because they cannot do it in-house at the clinic, I've been farmed out to a hospital for my CT scan. Optional MRI back at the clinic may follow if warranted. To say I'm thrilled with my treatment thus far is an understatement. Now, it is private care, so I can expect things will be top notch, but it also happens to be the clinic where all of the London-based football teams send their stars for treatment, so I'm in good company. Will I finally get this chronic injury resolved? I don't know. I can only hope that they've got an idea that my Canadian team hadn't considered. I'm hopeful. Above all, it does give me a different perspective on health care and the state of the Canadian health care system. I'm dismayed when I think about the way my injury was first treated in light of the conversations I've had with my new doctor here. I know we have a lot to be proud of in Canada when it comes to our health care, but in retrospect, it feels like some backwater village in terms of priorities and advocacy for the patient. Without becoming mired in a conversation I don't quite feel I'm prepared to have at the moment, I do know that I'm incredibly grateful for the chance to be able to access private health care coverage in ways that I could only dream of in Ontario. I know just how lucky I am.
Oh hey, let's lighten this up! Here's a picture of coffee....I'm going to go make coffee now...
2 February 2012
Slightly obsessive
A shopping trolley.
Yes, that's right, an old lady shopping trolley. It just makes so much sense! I spent a lot of money on chiropractic care, I don't see the point in tossing it all way by carrying heavy bags to and from the grocery store every day (yes, I go every day...more on that some other time). It also would make a big difference if I didn't have to make three trips back to the house when I go out to buy larger things. This week in one afternoon I did three round trips from house to shops and back again for veg, a garbage can and a proper food shop plus filing cabinet. That last trip was a bit difficult, but I couldn't stand the thought of going out a fourth time. So I need a trolley.
If I was in Canada, I feel like I'd have a pretty good idea of where to go to get said trolley. Over here I'm not having the same luck. Obviously I'm not as familiar with the stores and their wares, nor am I a pro at navigating my neighbourhood, so that's going to count for something. But oh man, I'm seeing them everywhere! I just can't buy them: people are using them. They must come from somewhere. I mean, they can't all be coming from Shopping Trolleys Direct, but I also don't want to be the crazed lunatic who stalks people with good quality trolleys to ask them where they were purchased. No matter how innocent and well-meaning I can make that inquiry sound, the obsessive look in my eyes will give me away. I think it's safe to say that I've given more consideration into the features of a $50 trolley than I did over our $22,000 car. Wheel composition is my biggest concern, followed closely by compact shape and, finally, if I ever hope to get James to do the shop, I need to consider colour (or lack thereof). Despite the fact that it goes against every fibre of my being to look at something plain, I will not be getting animal print. In this, and only this, James wins.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue scouring the internet for the trolley of my reasonably priced dreams.
27 January 2012
So behind!
19 January 2012
Something as simple as scissors
I was sitting in Claire's bedroom this evening and happened to glance at her desk. There, hanging from a hook in the most casual manner, was a pair of scissors. Do you know how many times I've needed to use a pair of scissors in the last week!? Do you have any idea how much easier life would have been if I hadn't had to use nail clippers and cuticle trimmers in lieu of such a simple tool?? You cannot even begin to imagine how many different scenarios and uses for scissors I imagined, beyond my most immediate needs, when I thought about having full-time access to a pair of glorious scissors.
This is what moving has done to me: I now covet scissors. I almost asked to borrow them.
Wanna know the worst part? I am 100% certain that my favourite pair of Fiskers scissors went into a box that went into a dark room, not to be seen for two years. *facepalm* On the bright side, I get to go scissor shopping!
18 January 2012
It's not the end of the world and other disappointments
I've had to take a "me" day today. I needed a day where I did the things that I wanted to do and did them in my own time. Yesterday drove me to this, which is a bit funny given that the day prior I had just posted about how happy I am here. I still am happy here, but it's just been a number of little irritations all at once that have left me with a deep desire for "me" time.
So what went down yesterday? Nothing major, let me assure you. A week ago or so my mother sent me a text asking if I'd gone to the gym yet or if I'd made any friends. The answer at that time was "no" on both counts. I still haven't made any friends (thank goodness for relatives - James' British family have managed to be my primary social outlet, a burden I'm sure they were unaware they'd be shouldering). But I did buy gym passes through GroupOnUK. Turns out I could get 10 single use passes for £10, so I picked them up.
Yesterday was my third trip to the gym and I think I had confounded them during my first two. Because of my injury I can't do anything major in terms of cardio equipment and since it's my first time back in the gym in ages, I was taking it a little easier; no sense injuring myself by being overzealous. So they watched me spend all of my time on the erg or stretching. And, to make it worse they also saw me not upgrading my passes into a membership. So after being circled by personal trainers for two and half sessions, one finally sat down bedside me, interrupted my steady-state workout I'd been three quarters of the way through (grr) and pestered me about what I wanted out of my time at the gym. When I finally gave in and removed my headphones (isn't that gym lingo for "don't bug me"!?), he asked me questions, didn't absorb my answers and insisted that what I was doing wasn't going to get me the results he knew I wanted. Uh, what? You don't know what I want. Ok. So he offered me a free training session. And a pile of cliches. I've accepted the free session, but the whole experience left me a little peeved.
Then I returned to the "hotel" flat and had just enough time to get through the shower before visiting with Claire for lunch. Except the cleaning staff were right in the thick of it. I was gone for TWO HOURS during their usual drop-in time...I give up learning their system. We ate in the flat and I had a long soak after Claire left....then I promptly threw up my lunch. Honestly, I cannot figure out what my body needs right now, but after 30 years of continuous use, it's acting up.
Ok, so all of this isn't really a big deal, right? Right. I acknowledge that. But what if I tell you it was a critical time in the month for me yesterday and that I was already very prone to irritability. Yeah, you follow.
The tipping point for me (and the real core issue) came when I got an email that my trip to Germany for a trade show was cancelled. I wasn't expecting that and I cannot even begin to describe how thoroughly disappointed and upset it made me. It was something that I was not only really looking forward to, but it had also become a trip that represented a commitment back home and a way to understand what my future would hopefully be upon our return. Now I don't feel that way. I don't feel so secure and it is so scary. I doubt it makes sense to many people, but it was more than a work trip for me.
So that mandated I have a total "me" day. And so far, I have, thanks to a few suggestions from friends.