Blogland

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Reposting this for Fned ....

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Blog land. It's a different kind of place.

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For those of you who have recently moved to the neighborhood, welcome. This is really the kind of place most people usually only read about. It's nowhere in particular, but right outside your front door. You can be yourself. Or anyone else for that matter.

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You can be as open or as raw as you wish. You can be as creative or as imaginative as you wish. You can be the person next door, or you can be the one that's unreachable.

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Blog land has rules, as most good lands do. But blogland's rules are a bit sketchy and not as rigid. Most of us who live here are easygoing and there are not a lot of hooligans around. I am only guessing, but if we were to be asked what motivated us to move to blogland, I bet most would say we were just looking for a place to be ourselves .

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Be it fact or fiction, entertaining or dramatic, we all want a piece of our own land, here in blogland.

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So we moved and we built our own little space, eventually we met the neighbours. Like all lands, we'll have many that we instantly click with and like to catch up with every day and some that we don't click with as well, but feel like we have to stop and wave every once in a while or they'll get mad.

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Sometimes we get stuck in a neighbourhood with that one neighbour that nobody likes but everyone sort of puts up with. Probably the lady with the hundred cats, who nobody visits. She'll sometimes come by and you just think to yourself " I bet those cats would leave too, if they weren't locked in"...

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Another common trend in our land is voyeurism. We all have those familiar faces that we see, and start to recognize, but for some reason they never stop to wave or say hi. They just watch us from the car. Then they leave just as quickly as they came, but days later, we spot them again. Makes me wonder, why are they here? Are they scouting the neighbourhood, trying to decide if they want to move there? Or are they simply lost? Should I say hi first?

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I wonder if it's hard being a police officer in blogland. It's really not a very fast paced place. I doubt the officers get to write a lot of tickets for not stopping at the red blog. Or taking off too quick from another one. Indeed it's the kind of place where all happens at your own pace, and on your own time. If you don't have time for it today, blogland waits for your tomorrow.

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Sort of like Florida I would imagine.

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Sometimes it seems like a "masquerade party".... everyone has their own masks on, looking for clues to other's identity. Some are quite cleverly disguised...like the cat lady, (who I bet, if you look closer is probably male) and some not so much.

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After almost a year of being here, I have decided that I am glad I moved here, and have all of you as neighbours. I am happy to come home and catch up with you, learn about your day, and even after I am asleep, it feels good to know that you can still check up on me.

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Yup. I sure do have great neighbours here. I'd lend each of you a cup of sugar anytime.

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Even those of you who never stop and say hi.

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Is it over yet?

I am sure I have mentioned this before. I hate nature. I know a lot of you are going camping these days, happily sleeping outdoors in a tent and cooking weenies over a fire and dousing yourselves with bug spray.

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Not me.

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And this weekend reminded me of why I hate nature so much.

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1. On Friday, I had zero mosquito bites. By Sunday night, after spending Saturday and Sunday outdoors, I have 11 just on my legs. When I was little, my mom used to say they'd bite me because I was so sweet.
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I'm not that sweet at all.

Bugs just suck.

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2. I was at a girlfriend's house in her bathroom upstairs. So I see the shadow of a dragonfly on the window and open the window to flick the screen and make it go away. Well, I forgot that there is no screen and not one but THREE dragonflies flew into the bathroom. I had to flee, slamming the door behind me. I am only hoping they starve or run out of oxygen or something before I have to go back in there. Thank God for multiple bathrooms.

Again, bugs suck.

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3. We are out bbq'ing and I look at our patio set. WTF is that all over the chairs? OMG, it's spider webs, attaching the chairs to each other, and the webs are covered in a combination of teensy little spiders and spider eggs. We had just been sitting on these chairs a few nights before and there was none of this. DIS-gusting.

And, once again, bugs suck.

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4. A bee was in my kitchen. I freaked out. I smashed it against the window with a coupon-envelope-thingee. It fell to the window sill. I smushed it against the window frame with a big glass bottle that's on the sill. Whew, it's dead.
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I leave it there for Frenchie to pick up later. ( i don't really touch bugs in any way, shape or form) and I continue doing the dishes when I hear buzzing. OMG, the thing came back to life! I grab the coupon-envelope-thingee again and hit it, four times, against the window. It appears to be dead, but I do not fall for it this time. I see its little stinger twitching and I know it's trying to reincarnate so it can sting me. So I hit it again three times for good measure, then swipe it into the sink, into the drain and drown it. I run the water for a good 3 minutes, just to be sure. It swirls down the drain, never to be heard from again.

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If a soggy bee comes after me tomorrow, I'm making a movie about it!

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5. The scariest part of the weekend having to do with nature: we were outside golfing on Sunday evening. When we got back, I talked to the neighbors about enjoying the weather. When all of a sudden we hear a rustling noise. Now, I live in the suburbs, but practically the city. We do not have animals of any kind except for squirrels and the occasional chipmunk.

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So I start freaking out. Their boys think it's a racoon, but I think "no way!" We don't have wild animals like racoons and tigers and giraffes around here! Her husband goes inside and gets a flashlight. He shines it toward the bushes and what do we see but a baby bear? Which means, his mother is not far behind.
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Did I mention this is in our back yard?! This cannot be. I decide right then and there, as I barricaded myself in the house, that we need to move someplace less rural.
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Nature sucks.

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I am never going outside again.

Today is not our anniversary. It is not my birthday. It is not even the day after a fight.

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But this is what he wrote:

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Hmmm .... I wonder what he wants?

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I'm doing what?!

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The reason I got into blogging at first is to journal. To put pen to paper and to write. Freely, and without censorship.

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I've always loved to write.
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But what started off as something I wanted to do for me, somehow ended up being something I do for others.

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Don't get me wrong, I love it. I love blogging. In fact, I love it so much that I forgot that it was supposed to be about me, and it became all about you, the readers.

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I look for comments and rejoice in the fact that there are some, or equally I am puzzled by other posts I write that hardly get any comments at all. As mentioned, at some point or another, slowly my writing changed and instead of 'journaling' as I'd intended, I'd turned into a comment counter.
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Which brings me to now:

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I'm writing a book. Probably not a great book, or even a good book. But nonetheless I am writing it and it's all mine.

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( Amazing, isn't it, that if you throw enough money at someone they will publish any old garbage?! )

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I've compiled a bunch of short stories, mostly like a diary, from my past that I would like to remember - or at least have someone read to me as I get old - that will remind me that I lived a full life and that each chapter of that life was filled with something memorable.

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Not everything in my life has turned up roses, and I'd like to remember that part as well. As I get older, I like to forget certain things I've said or done that paint me in a negative light, or that show my unflattering selfish ways, but those too, I've documented in this book.

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When it is finished, I will keep it, and perhaps when my kids are grown, they will read it and maybe for the first time in their life they will see me as I was, before I became their mama.

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"The night before we left on our trip, we went out to a club locally. Drunk and hot on the dance floor, I actually literally bumped into K. We both stopped in the middle of the dance and just stared. I was still mad, and tried to walk away. He grabbed my arm and escorted me outside. He wanted to talk. Reasonable as he always was, K told me how I had hurt him with my ultimatum. He said he never pictured himself with anyone else and he couldn't believe we hadn't talked in so long. He wanted to make up for lost time and hang out.I told him about my 2 week vacation coming up and he made me promise I'd call him once I got back. I promised I'd think about it.

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When my gal pal and I arrived at our vacation resort, we realized we were in heaven. Hot air filled up the airport as we stepped off the plane. Smoggy hot air. No airconditioning in sight. After a long cold winter, to us, it was heaven.The taxi driver drove like a maniac all the way to our hotel. It looked much fancier in the brochure but we didn't care. It was clean and it was in a tropical place. For the next couple weeks, it'd be home.I proceeded to unpack my suitcases, but my fun loving friend persuaded me to leave them and head out on the town. A quick change out of our travelling clothes and we were ready to party. There is nothing like being young and single on vacation with a girl friend. The world is your oyster.

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The first bar we went into, we sat down and met two other 'white girls' who became our bossom buddies for the night. Shooters, drinks and tequila shots flowed freely. Smoking like there's no tomorrow. Yup, this was the life.Our waiter was a very exotic looking fellow with dark curly long hair. You could tell that without the product holding it together it was unmanagably curly hair. It made me want to grab it and hold on to it. His eyes were the darkest of dark with long black eyelashes. When he smiled, he flashed perfectly white and straight pearly whites. One earing in one ear, and when he leaned in to poor the drinks I could see that he had a cross necklace through his unbuttoned shirt.

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The accent and exotic look were too much for me. I asked for his name. It was G. I introduced myself, and asked the girls to take a picture of my mystery man and myself. Oddly enough it didn't scare him off. I smiled brightly and he dutyfully posed for the camera.As we were getting ready to leave I took my napkin of the table and wrote "What time do you get off?" He took the napkin (later I learned it was to get it translated, as he hardly spoke -let alone read- english)and when he returned there was "5AM" written on it.I gestured that I would come back for him at that time, and he seemed exited as well. We barhopped some more, getting back to the hotel around 3am. As my girlfriend passed out in the bed next to me, I called the front desk for a wake up call for 4:40am. I took a cab and went back to the bar where G was.

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I'm sure he never expected to see me, as he seemed pleasantly surprised. I stayed until they cleaned up, and at the end of his shift, a bunch of them went out for breakfast. I joined them, my first taste of deliciously local food. As my tastebuds rejoiced, my eyes feasted only on G.I hardly knew him, but I couldn't keep my hands off him. He was only too happy to oblige, and we went back to his apartment and made love in his pool. Then we fell asleep wrapped in each others arms and I spent most of the morning taking in his scent. He was unlike any other man I had been with. He was nothing like sweet K. He was daring, exotic, mysterious and dangerous. He looked like trouble and I was hooked. That afternoon when we finally woke up, we talked for the first time. Really talked. It was rough at first as I didn't speak his language at all and he barely spoke mine. But we managed. We drew on napkins, we acted out charades and made sound effects in order to get ourselves understood. To tell you the truth, we clicked immediatly and neither one of us seemed concerned about the language issue.

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We took a cab back to my hotel, where my poor roomate was frantic that I hadn't returned. Her mouth dropped when she saw me with G. Even more surprised was she when I told her I'd be taking my bags and 'storing them' at G's apartment for now. I wanted to be with him every second of this short 2 weeks and she thought I had gone mental.Of course we had the normal "how do you know he's not some psycho?" conversation, and she reminded me that he probably thought I was some easy chick from abroad looking for a fling. She told me to be careful and safe and I assured her I'd see her that evening after G went to work.

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For the next 2 weeks, I hung out with my girlfriend in the evenings and partied with her, but I always found my way back to G's bar before closing time to pick him up and 'go home'. G had a motorcycle and on his days off we'd take off and explore the surroundings. It was so different being with him, there were no rules. He did what he wanted when he wanted. He and I answered only to each other. We talked about our home lives, our families and how we grew up. We noticed similarites in our upbringing and cultures that at first one may not see right away. We bonded and for the first time in my life I had met someone who, like me, thought the only thing that mattered in life was love.

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All else would fall into place."

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Now don't you go worrying your pretty little heads, I will still blog for comments on this blog!

Blogger eats comments?!

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How odd... I've heard of this, but it's the first time that it happened to me... I had 2 comments eaten by blogger yesterday, Hammer's and Sayre's. Both were there, and then they were gone... has that ever happened to anyone?

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Sayre's comment was a meme, so here we go:

(she did bribe me with an award, so how can I refuse?)

Attached or single? Attached. Married to Frenchie.

Best friend? Frenchie.

Cake or Pie? Pie a la Mode.

Day of Choice? Sunday.

Essential Item? A purse to complete your outfit.

Favorite color? Red.

Gummy bears or worms? Gummy bears.

Hometown? Little town in eastern europe.

Indulgence? Massages, purses, shoes.

January or July? We have both kids birthday in January, right after Xmas...so I'd say July.

Kids? A couple.

Life isn't complete.... without my husband and my kids.

Marriage Date? Sept 11... I know... I know.

Number of Brothers and Sisters? I'm an only child.

Oranges or Apples? Apples - does anyone really prefer oranges?!

Phobias? Someone hurting my kids. I'm paranoid.

Quote? "This too, shall pass."

Reasons to Smile? Tonight? Jesse got evicted from Big Brother. I'm addicted, remember?!

Season of Choice? Fall. I love fall. Beautiful colours everywhere, and hands down the best wardrobe choices.

Tag Seven People No thanks.

Unknown Fact? My mother and I do not get along. At all.

Vegetable? Cilantro. Is that a vegetable?

Worst habits? Micro managing everybody.

XRay or Ultrasound? Xray. Broken limbs can be fixed.

Your favorite food? Mongolian. Thai. Indian. In that order.

Zodiac sign? Cancer.

So there you have it, another meme all done. Learned anything new?

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And thank you, Sayre, for the award... you know I'm an attention whore, don't ya?

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I love awards, recognition and all sorts of bling!

A tourist in my own town

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I am so tired, I can barely type. We've been playing tourist ever since the kids arrived from Montreal.

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We've walked downtown, we've gone to Grouse Mountain, even did the Grouse Grind Trail (which, by the way, for those of you who don't know is an insanely steep 'hike', 2.9 km uphill) we've gone to Stanley park, Capilano Suspension Bridge, and tomorrow we are heading to Vancouver Island.

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I have come to realize that although I live in this city, I don't know as much about it as I should.

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Jp's eldest son is quite curious and smart, asking all sorts of good questions, like: "how many people live here?" "When was this bridge built?" "Why did they name it Stanley Park?"

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I had to shrug at all of them. "I don't know kid... I just live here".

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Have you ever had company in town, and been a really bad tour guide?

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One that shouldn't be allowed to show tourists around?

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The kind like me?

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I mean, you have to make shit up if you don't know, right?

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So I did... we'll see how much of my crap they're going to remember once they get home and tell their mother.

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I can already see her eyes rolling now.

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(All indignant, like only the french know how to do)

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We are the host city for the 2010 Olympics, I'd better learn some trivia fast so I can answer the millions of questions that will come from the many many tourists.

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Before I do that, I'm gonna pass out of sheer exhaustion first.

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