Not what I'd imagined adult Saturday nights would be

It's just wrong that I'm doing work at 11:50 on a Saturday night. Wrong! Yet at the same time it's right, because age has given me the sense to know that if I want to get a good night's sleep, which is what I need this week, I have to sleep without stress. Getting this stuff out of the way now will help with that. I know I'm going to wake up worried, but at least I will fall asleep in peace.

And working at home is something I kind of like. If I need to take a break I can watch some X games highlights like Bob Burnquist's amazing 2001 Summer X Games Vert run (see item 13) or Chick Carother's Body Varial Moto X trick from this summer. My office is a pretty cool place, but I know that I can't watch skateboarding on my breaks.

Also, all my music is here. I can only fit so many songs on my mini discs, and creating new ones with the dying equipment I have is proving more amusing every time. Here at home, gigs and gigs of tunes, itunes even.

I don't think that I could be a work at home person in general mind you. I can do the occasional day, or feel at ease throwing in some nights and weekends, but I really thrive on the social interaction that a work place provides. In fact, working with the cool people that I do, makes the less pleasant aspects of the work a lot easier to bear.

It now seems that forces beyond my control are telling me to go to bed. If the mail server has gone to sleep, then I guess I should too.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Everybody's Workin For The Weekend" by Loverboy

HRH

I'll bring all your dreams alive

The mixed tape as been a medium of communication for people for decades now (though I hear the kids these days are using those newfangled CD things). The mixed tape could express all the things your teen heart so desperately wanted to say, yet veil it under angsty, cutting edge music that could easily be written off as just cool and not representative of anyone's feelings. You know, just in case.

I have always been a lover of the mixed tape. Teenager me poured my heart into hours of tape making where boys who'd more than caught my eye would get a heartfelt mix of Enigma, The Pixies, Belly, Pearl Jam, Camile de Saint-Saens (I liked to mix it up a little), EMF and The Pet Shop Boys. Did I ever give them the tapes? No. No I didn't. I listened to the tapes and thought about giving them the tapes. I did that a lot.

M and I have exchanged many a tape, though less so since we started living together. You know, cause it's easier to say "Come here and listen. This song makes me think of you." Anyway, the first mixed tape that M ever made me was what pretty much sealed the deal in terms of my love for him. It was, without a doubt, the most perfect mixed tape ever. Songs that I like, but didn't necessarily own myself, the inclusion of rare remixes to flash those musical knowledge credentials (more important than you might think) and song selection that stated pretty clearly that he knew what I was all about and very much dug it. I may share the track list one day, but for now, it's between M and me.

Anyway, It was on the basis of this totally amazing mixed tape that I made possibly the most schizophrenic mix tape of my life for him. Feeling that at long last I had discovered someone who understood me, I made something that reflected me, spots and all. In fact I was at such ease that I actually included a song from the soundtrack of my guiltiest secret ever.

There's this awful, awful musical that was made in 1980 that starred Oliva Newton-John and Gene Kelly, the music done by ELO and the plot basically involves one of the nine muses of Zeus inspiring a disgruntled artist and retired singer to build a roller rink. At one point they turn into cartoons...

Everything about the movie is awful and I love it. It's like the 11-year-old girl in me, that wanted nothing more than to be a singer and dancer somehow transferred all her feelings onto celluloid after eating a lot of sugar. I used to screen this film with friends as kind of a test of fortitude. If they could make it through the film, an undying bond was forged.

So when I poured my heart onto a tape for M, I took a chance and included "Magic" from the movie Xanadu. It is a testament to his understanding of me, and how badly he wanted to be with me, because the song didn't scare him away. Which is pretty awesome. I was myself; the good bits and the cheesy bits and I'd found someone who gets it and even better embraces it.

Of course, I could only get him to watch the movie that one time...

Today's sing-a-long song: "Magic" by Olvia-Newton John

HRH

Crazy lady should sleep now

I'm twitchy today. Could be the sleep phase I'm in (read: sleeping poorly, can't turn brain off), could be stress, could be a bad case of the twitchies. Hard to tell.

One of the dangers of working in health care is fighting the instinct to self-diagnose. I work for doctors and scientists; I am not one, yet every time I write a press release, story or update a Web site or profile, I have a new condition. Right now I'm writing about Nematodes (roundworms, but nematode is just so much fun to say. Try it!), and I can happily say that this is a time when I do not believe I am afflicted with the disease or condition I'm writing about. Which is good, because River Blindness and hookworm don't sound like much fun.

However, today I am convinced that I have Arthritis. I know that I'm going to get arthritis at some point and several days of really stiff and slightly swollen hands and now led me to this diagnosis. (Cue post from my mother, full of logic and reason explaining how I don't have arthritis and I just need to get some sleep). I couldn't possibly be feeling stiff and swollen because I'm under a lot of stress and not sleeping well. Nope, not even possible.

Anyway, twitchy. I'm trying to listen to music, but every song that my itunes set on random calls up is wrong. Gigs and gigs of music and none of it soothes. The clementines aren't working either. Yes, they are giving me vitamin C, which will help me stave off the evil going around, but they're not relaxing me. I don't know where I got the idea that clementines can relax you, cause they don't. So now I'm twitchy and I smell like citrus.

Sitting still is also a bit of a problem. I stayed pretty late at work today and when I got home I started handwashing wool sweaters. These are not the actions of a sane person. I gave myself a manicure and I did the laundry. I did manage to sit still long enough to watch Pimp My Ride, and, obviously, write this post.

Hopefully the twitchies will give way to fatigue (which always hits me on the tram ride home. Yes I am that person asleep on the tram every night), otherwise I'm going to have to find something to clean or organize. It's taking a great deal of will to not re-organize my cardboard recycling right now.

Today's-sing-a-long song: "Lullaby" by The Cure.

HRH

Of tomatoes and trees

It's amazing that the day after I've finished most of the Christmas shopping that M was able to harvest 6 tomatoes off our tomato plant. Yummy red tomatoes that ripened in front of our windows. I like to think that they're laughing at the cold weather outside as they mature, kind of like someone who has cheated death. Of course they stop laughing when I eat them.



So Laura asked for some pics of the finished tree. When I showed the above photo to a fellow Star Wars nerd, he made the very astute observation that Luke's sword matches the rest of the tree. Ahh synergy.

Anyway, I have concluded that it's very hard to take a good photo of a Christmas tree with the simple digital camera that I have. It looks best with the lights out, but you lose all the blues in the dark. So here's my compromise. It doesn't do it justice, but you get the idea.



Today's sing-a-long song:"Lightning Field" by The Sneaker Pimps

HRH

Up to all kinds of trouble

I kind of snapped this week. I got it into my head that I would get ALL my Christmas shopping done by the end of the weekend. And you know what's a little scary, I've almost done it. One stocking stuffer, a toy for an eight-year-old and something "just so" for a good friend and I'm done. It's November 21st and I'm almost done. Everything that's been purchased or delivered has been wrapped and is now sitting under a Christmas tree that was decorated without any fights or fowl moods.

Such a sick, sick puppy I am.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Map of your head" by Muse

HRH

That's it. I'm outta here

I don't know if anyone noticed, in fact I hope that no one noticed, that I managed to publish a placeholder instead of witty text in yesterday's blog. You may recognize it as **. Normally when I write blog entries, I tear through the whole thing in one draft and publish it. If I stopped to edit, they'd never be published. Also I spend most of my day editing and perfecting, my blog is a release from that. A place where I can barrel through my thoughts without concern, giving proper grammar and linguistic pedantry the finger.

Anyway, yesterday I made the mistake of skipping ahead because I couldn't think of the right thing to say. I left a place holder like I usually do at work (remember, where I edit and proof) and forgot to go back. My bad.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Every day I write the book" Elvis Costello

HRH

Me vs. pants

I have a problem with my pants. It's not the usual problem that they don't fit properly or sit inappropriately low. No, it's that the zipper is possessed by Lucifer. And it's a darn shame because not only are they great pin-striped black pants (part of a great suit) that look great on me, but they're also obscenely comfortable.

Indeed wearing these pants is almost blissful, until it comes time to use the bathroom. Then things become complicated. Getting the pants off if easy enough (pause, for wisecracks) but dealing with the demonic zipper is like skating up a hill. Every time I fight with the zipper I mutter oaths to myself, promising to never be so dumb as to wear clothes that are broken. The words "idiot" and "fucking pants" are often expressed, which I imagine could be quite embarassing/amusing should I fight with my zipper when there's someone in the stall beside me.

Somehow, after a great deal of contorting, pleading, manipulation and occasionally holding things between my teeth (don't ask) the zipper is closed and all is well. I am awash with zipper amnesia and forget the trials of the moments before. Why? Because the pants are that comfortable.

This comes as an example of the stupid things I will put myself through to look good. It was only recently that I deceed that I will no longer wear clothes that cause me physcial pain (new boots excepted). Prior to that decsion I was consistently bedecked in an horrendous mix of circulation stopping, lung constricting and never quite long enough clothes. Add to that my insatiable lust to be fashionable and you have me looking quite silly.

The great part about getting older is that you get to exchange silly for savvy.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Exchange" by Massive Attack

HRH

Slightly Lame

The occupants of this house are falling apart. From M's messed up neck to my useless and now tightly wrapped wrist, we're quite the mess. The good news for me is that I can still type and thanks to the new wrap I procured today, I can also feel my fingers.

Which is handy (ha!) because I'm trying to get this site into some semblance of order. Life needs less chaos.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Bandages" by Hot Hot Heat

HRH

Ego and the webcam

Enough time has passed that the image moratorium can be lifted. Images of me that is. Rather than put up all the stuff that's been out there before I thought I'd do a little experimenting with my Web cam (my ego is enormous, but not so big that I'll take up someone else's time with my narcissim). Also there are a lot of advertising people in my living room talking way above my advertising knowledge and this is something else to do...



Rockin' out

Skeptical

Fun with webcams and halogen lights makes me a Sci-fi extra!

Today's sing-a-long song: "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers (but when he says Jealousy imagine he says Chelsea...

HRH

Milestones

I've decided that my life will not be complete until I have danced on the hood of a car. It's one of those silly things you need to do in life, just to keep things level.

Kind of like when I used to drive my father's truck through inclement weather while playing the opening score to the first Batman movie. It helps, honest. Anything to fight the bad case of "Serious-Disease" that I have going on.

Anyway, this car-hood dancing may or may not involve Whitesnake's Here I Go Again. I am, on occasion, a hot piece of ass, but I am no Tawny Kitaen. I'm not going to be doing this on any planned date or time, it's just something to add to the list of things to do before I get old or die. No one wants to see an old lady on the hood of a car.

Today's sing-a-long song: "If You're Getting Down" by 5ive

HRH

Looking forward

I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to December 18th. It's not a national holiday or a day where there's a big event happening. In fact, it's the total absence of importance of the date that makes it so wonderful. By December 18th, it will all be done. All the big projects, parties and add ons will be done. Not done in the long term now-I-have-no-work-to-do sense, but in the 2004-oh-my-god-I'm-so-tired-and-this-year-just-won't-end sense.

M will be finished his term and I'll be starting a much much needed 11-day break and maybe we'll have time to do more than pass out in front of the TV together. Not that I don't enjoy the semi-conscious time we share, but I think it would be nice for both of us to do something together that's not work or housework.

There may even be time for snow angels.

Today's sing-a-long song:"I am weary (let me rest)" The Cox Family

HRH

Pain in G minor

G minor harmonic is my favourite scale. I'm just throwing that out there for those of you taking notes.

I have been foolish. A smart person, when making the transition from chunky heels to almost stilettos and stretched out boots to perfectly fit new ones would take time breaking them in. They would maybe start wearing them for a couple of hours a day, like you would when you're preparing for a formal event and want to be sure that you can walk with grace and dance without blistering.* What they wouldn't do is wear them for the first time when they have a walking intensive 10-hour day ahead of them. They also wouldn't wear them a second day in a row, ignoring the pain in all kinds of places on their feet and ankles, for an 11-hour even more walking intensive day. Yes, good thinking all around.

*note: I am always very well prepared for formal events, but I have yet to attend one with a dancing element that has not wrought great evil upon my feet. That may be the fault of my enthusiastic dancing style, but I think it's the fault of shoe makers. Those in the know say it's possible to wear formal shoes and not cripple yourself, but I'm beginning to believe that those women were wallflowers.

Today's sing-a-long song: I'm sure there's a song out there about sore feet. If there is I'm sure that "Ow" is somewhere in the chorus.

HRH

Turning to the Martha side

It's hard for me to say this, but sometimes there are disadvantages to living beside a park. For instance, right now, all the beautiful fall leaves are coming off the trees and seemingly landing on my lawn. Week after week I rake them, load them into yard waste bags and stuff, stuff, stuff. I have a new found respect for my mother and all the raking she must have to do on the property in Kingston. She does have the advantage of the wind coming off the lake and blowing the leaves across the street, but still, there are a whole lotta leaves to be dealt with. There isn't a lot of lawn here, but somehow in the past 3 weeks I've raked up 15 yard waste bags worth of leaves.

As always I'm trying to find the positives in the situation. It's good exercise, and I'm always up for good exercise that's task oriented. Next, it ensures that I have a couple of hours outside to enjoy the fall air. Finally, it makes the property look better. One thing I thought might make the whole experiences truly fun would be jumping into one of the enormous leaf piles I created. I nearly did that today, but upon asking M (who was able to lend a hand) if I could leap into the leaf pile I was informed that it might be counterproductive. He had a point, but I may just have to do it next time regardless.

While were on the topic of domicile exteriors, I planted my bulbs for next year. With any luck and a whole lot of squirrel deterring garlic power I should have a nice collection of my favourite flower next spring. Tulips! White ones, pink ones and the ultimate in tulip coolness the Queen of the Night. A purple so dark it's almost black. If flowers could be goth, this one would have a lot of velvet in it's bulb.

This weekend also marked the hanging of the outdoor lights. Last year we had these perfectly lovely white lights for the balcony. The bulbs were opaque so which gave a really warm glow. Sadly, the critters around here not only like to mess with bulbs in your garden, but they also like to mess with bulbs on your outdoor lights. We searched in vain for a replacement, but the damage done couldn't be repaired with much ease. On a whim in the Canadian Tire store, we decided to give the new LED lights from NOMA a try. We were promised sparkle, and while we have sparkle, we also have white lights that shine with that really cold LED blue tinge to them. I'm still on the fence with them. I like blue. I have no problem with blue, but the tone of the balcony lights is now polar to the tone of the lights on the tree and the lights of the stars in the window. They're very warm toned.

It's entirely possible, and likely, that I am overthinking my holiday lighting scheme, bringing me a step closer to becoming one of those scary women whose lives revolve around their place settings. I feel it happening. I feel the conflict within me. As I tore through the holiday decorations at IKEA yesterday, stocking up on gift wrap and finding that elusive tree topper I've been hunting for years, I knew that I had turned a corner. Maybe I should dye my hair tomato red, just to keep everything in balance.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Promeny" by Cechomor

HRH

A truly excellent shopping experience

When Laura and I arrived at the Eaton Centre for the Sephora pre-opening party it looked rather dire. The line was seriously, seriously long. As we got into line with the other invitees to the party, we tried rationalize sneaking out of the office tomorrow before the lines started rather than wait in this one. I mean, it was a long fricken line. But to the credit of the event organizers Sephora staff members were walking through the line testing makeup on us, a clever way to keep us amused. An even more clever idea was having waiters walk through the line with hors dourves. A fed line is a happy line, especially when they're nibbling on roast beef.

The other thing that helped was that the line moved rather quickly and Laura and I are as good as it comes when it comes to conversationalists, so the time passed pretty quickly. Indeed I was in my own Mecca before I knew it.

And OH MY GOD IT"S WONDERFUL.

Now I've been to Sephora many a time but the knowledge that this store is within 7 minutes of my place of work was just so wonderful. It was great being in there with my kindreds. Women who love makeup. Who see it as more than a part of their morning ritual, they find it incredibly fun. It was so crowed, but the vibe was just awesome.

What put this shopping experience miles above anything else I've experienced was the fact that I was shopping for makeup with a glass of Moet & Chandon Champange in my hand. Further proving my theory that everything is better with a glass of bubbly in your hand (save the obvious things you shouldn't do while drinking, like drive or do your taxes). Add to that the presence of Carol Shaw, the founder of Lorac cosmetics, applying makeup and showing off her most excellent line of cosmetics. At least I'm pretty sure it was Carol Shaw. I didn't ask, cause I actually got a little starstruck.

The icing on the cake occurred as we were leaving. I did make a purchase. I HAD to. So I stocked up on more of the Smiths Rosebud Salve (which I expect every girl in Toronto to get now, because it's that good for your lips), got some of the DoWop Lip Venom I wanted for my birthday and the long coveted tart Cheek Stain. Now these items would have been a great treat on their own, but imagine my delight to be handed a gift bag on the way out that contained:

Urban Decay Blackberry Body Powder
Cargo Lip Gloss in Soho
Philosophy Hope in a Jar
Lorac Lipstick in Stiletto
GoSmile Tooth whitening maintenance
Dessert Lip Gloss in Creamy

Many of these were not sample sizes. Such joy.

Add to that the Star Wars Episode III Teaser Trailer and it's been a pretty sweet day.

HRH

The perils of beauty

Scientists at the Universtiy of Bristol have unearthed and recreated an 1,800-year-old container of makeup. At last I have evidence to refute the claims of the cosmetics haters who say "Women today are so obessed with their appearance" implying that there was a time when women didn't go to great lengths to better their exteriors. Ha! Our undying fixation on looking pretty is eternal!

Women in Roman times even risked their lives for a perfect complexion. During that time, makeup was lead-based, so if you used it every day or every night you would slowly drive yourself mad, a side-effect of lead poisioning. Even in ancient times, people knew that lead-based paints and makeup would mess you right up, yet they still used them. I don't feel so bad all the things I do now.

Thanks to some help from "The Beltz" I can now finish this post.

Now this doesn't mean that I don't hurt myself with my impliments of beauty. Case in point, mere moments ago I nearly ripped one of my ear lobes off with an errant flick of my hand and a very large hoop earring. There was no blood, but it did make me think of this exchange from Season 7 of Buffy (again Kudos to Mike, who's Fu is best):

Giles: You know this is very dangerous
Buffy: Ah, you just heard the horror stories. Wear hoops, they'll catch on something, rip your lobes off. Lobes flying everywhere.

HRH

S-Day approacheth

Today promises to be a good day. Not only is the first Episode III trailer available for Star Wars fan club members (it will also be on the trailers for The Incredibles as well, for those of you who didn't shell about $30 to be a certifed geek), but I get to go to a Sephora pre-opening party tonight! Star Wars AND makeup. If only every day could be this good.

Today's sing-a-long song: "I feel good" by James Brown

HRH

So not good at waiting

So I said we'd meet everyone at the right side of the sound booth facing the stage at 8:45, cause you said you'd be out of there by 8 p.m., for sure. So I thought that would be reasonable. And I don't want to push, cause I know you're working so hard and behind the 8-ball with a deadline, but I can't help but notice that it's almost 8:30 and you're not here yet.

And I love you to death, but waiting like this, when I know there's a time commitment, makes me fucking loony. Loopy even!

But I know you're trying so hard, so I won't say anything. I'll just say "okay" and bite my tounge, because really, you know that I'm annoyed and that's why you're trying so hard to get everything done and be here on time. So I don't say anything. I just sit here and wait and try so hard not to be annoyed, thus continuing the great circle of trying so hard.

I'm just bad a waiting you see...

Today's sing-a-long song: "Time is running out" by Muse

HRH

Like a bad game of telephone

In the glitzy and glamorous world of PR (ha, ha) there are a lot of names flying around. Sometimes a harried PR person thinks they have someone's name right, but in fact have managed to learn it completely incorrectly. You would think that with a somewhat unusual name like Chelsea, it would be pretty hard to mess it up. Sometimes people slip up on it and call me Kelsey or Elsa and I've come to grips with that. But today I heard the BEST bastardization or plain wrong interpretation of my name ever. Some overworked person somehow managed to memorize my name as Charmaine.

Yes, that's correct. Charmaine. A french name that means bountiful orchard. A fry cry from port of ships. It was a forgivable slip up, but sadly one I don't think I'll live down around the office.

Today's sing-a-long song: "My name is" by Eminem

HRH