Moving and Shaking

I feel just wretched about not posting, but I've just been insanely busy with the house. Whether I'm having keys made, discovering new filthy pits in the apartments, or scheduling visits, I just haven't had a spare minute to blog. The start of the school year was never this busy when I was a student.

I will try to make time before then, but will be back to my normal ways on Monday.

In short:

-My hip still hurts.
-My father is happy that I'm working so hard for him.
-I'm tired of cleaning, but was reasonably impressed with the carpet cleaning machine that I rented at the local grocery store.
-I have developed a real taste this week for black licorice, fruit leather, and cinnamon-raisin bagels.

Weekend Wrap-Up

It's been a good weekend, but I haven't made much time for blogging. There has been a lot going on and over the past week, and things will continue to be busy for the next little while.

I managed to rent the two apartments and the new tenants will be moving in later on this week. That means that I have to move from the basement to the main floor. It shouldn't be a problem, but it will take a few hours to lug everything upstairs. I don't have to worry about boxes or anything, but can just grab a handful of stuff and carry it up to its new home. I think that I'll be able to move out and move in in about three beers.

Once I'm moved, I have to continue the massive clean-up. I rented a rug cleaner today, and will spend tomorrow morning shampooing the carpets in the two apartments. Once that's finished, I have to clean walls and windows, and make sure that everything is pristine.

I bought a powerwasher today and need to spend some time setting it up and cleaning around the outside of the house. Those pigeons suffered some significant losses, but have rallied and have struck back with some victories of their own. I did not watch my buddies die face down in the muck so that these pigeons can strut around like they're the ones in charge around here.

I haven't been running as my hip has been giving me some sharp, stabbing pain. I'm worried that this might put a wrench in the Boston-qualification plans, and I'm hoping to get back at it tomorrow.

The rest continues on as usual. I'll be happy when everything is taken care of with the house and I can relax a little. I'm just hoping that I don't have to paint the third-floor apartment for the new tenants. That would be horrible, and something that I think is a distinct possibility.

Opened House

I'm sitting at my computer typing this in the middle of an open house. I listed the two apartments and had so many responses that I couldn't be bothered arranging individual showings for that many people and so I decided to open up the house for viewing today.

My good friend is manning the basement while I fart around on the computer waiting for people to arrive. I expect that he's playing video games. In fact, I should go check it out and maybe have some breakfast. I've been up since 6:45 doing some last minute tidying and getting things organized.

The cleaning person who came yesterday did a very nice job, but I was very surprised. I got a call at 2 something informing me that the job was too big to finish in 5 hours. I couldn't believe it. Granted, the place was a mess; that's why I didn't want to clean it. Nevertheless, had I actually not been lazy I could have easily finished in less than 5 hours, especially if I was being paid. I suppose that this is an endemic problem of hourly wages. Why do a job in 5 hours when you can do it in 10 and get paid twice as much?

It doesn't really matter. He/She (I didn't meet the cleaning person) did a great job on the two bathrooms and cleaned the surfaces in the kitchen. I took some tome to wipe down the cupboards in the kitchen and to vacuum and sweep the rest of the apartment (which was relatively tidy).

So now people are wandering through to rent the apartments. It isn't so bad, but I feel really terrible since I, in essence, have to choose the best candidate, and since I can only choose one person, I have to shoot down the rest and leave them to the horror of other apartments and landlords who screw them over.

(pause)

There have been quite a few people who have come by to look at the house, but with so many people have emailng me I was expecting a lot more. I expect that it's because it's 10:30 in the morning and people have jobs. I shouldn't complain since you want tenants with jobs. I expect that things will get a lot busier this evening.

Other than finally getting off my butt and doing this chore, I haven't been doing a whole lot. I've been resting, perhaps too much, after my race, but my hip has been bugging me a little. It's the same chair problem that I've had in the past. I'm going to force myself to run tonight and see how it goes. The big race is only 33 days away!

Serviced

Big day today. I'm up early and have already showered and eaten. I've checked my email and have read a few blogs.

I am off to the grocery store in order to pick up a few essentials and to purchase a few cleaning products. I have a cleaning person coming over this afternoon to take care of the nastiness that is the top floor apartment. I couldn't face cleaning the bathroom or the kitchen, and though I think that it is incredibly horrible to pay someone else to do it, I am realistic enough to know that that is the only way that it will get finished and finished properly. Usually, I am an extreme cleaner, but the bathroom in that apartment is huge and I really am not up to the challenge. I am also a firm believer in cleaning up your own mess. I will never have someone else clean my bathroom; that's a job I take care of for myself. When it comes to the rental apartment, I think that the jerks who used to live there should have cleaned it themselves, but they didn't and I really don't want to do it.

So, I've become one of those people who will pay to have someone else do their dirty work. I'll justify it by saying that it's simply a professional service. I pay to have my eyes checked, I pay to have my cavities filled (my teeth, sheesh!), I pay (through taxes) to be consulted by a doctor. Granted, these are things that I can't do myself. Consider, though, going out for dinner. I can cook and enjoy cooking, but I will still go out for a nice meal every now and then. Might paying someone to clean be similar? I can clean and enjoy cleaning (in as much as one can enjoy cleaning). We don't look down on people who pay to eat at a restaurant, why do I feel so bad about paying someone to clean an empty apartment?

Well now that that rationalizing is out of the way I can stop feeling so guilty, lazy, and aristocratic about it. Still, it has this air of exploitation about it, and I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe I'm a bad person, or maybe I'm just thinking too much about nothing. It makes me a little sad to know that while I'm out working, someone will be doing a job that I should have done. That will never make me feel good.

With the apartment cleaned, I am having an open house tomorrow so that I can get the apartments rented for September 1st. I have had over 60 people who are interested in renting and rather than trying to arrange meetings, I have just decided to open up the house tomorrow morning and evening. With luck, I can get the place rented quickly so that I can stop stressing about it and stop feeling guilty about procrastinating. My Dad, too, will be extremely happy, and that will make me relax a little.

Back in Black

It's been a long time coming, but I managed to crawl out of credit card debt this afternoon. All my credit cards are paid off, and I actually have some cash in my bank account. Now I can create a savings account, and start to build a financial future. Hot dog!

30k A-Okay

Don't worry, I'm fine. I made it.

Sorry for the delay in posting. It's been a busy weekend and I haven't had a chance to sit down and post about my race.

On Saturday, I ran a 30 kilometre race. I have learned that in order to prepare for the full marathon, runners need to be able to run 32 k two weeks before the big day. I decided that in order to motivate myself, I would plan to run a 30k race this weekend.

I left for my father's farm at 5:30 on Friday. I hopped on the GO Train and met my sister at the Ajax station. Then we headed east on the 401, and arrived at my Dad's farm at 10:00. The first job was to repair bridge that I destroyed on my last visit. I got some gravel and some boards and got it organized. I headed to bed just before midnight.

I was out of bed and on the tractor by 7:45 the next morning and managed to pick up all the remaining bales of hay from the fields. I finished at 1:35 and jumped into the shower. My sister was angry with me because the plan had been to leave at 1:00 and then take the GO Train back into the city. She didn't want to drive downtown and the chances of us making it back in time to catch the train in time for my race were all but gone.

After a little mini-fit, she decided that I should take my father's pick-up truck. I did, and arrived in Toronto at 6:15. After packing and farting around for a few minutes, I decided to head out to the race. I caught the streetcar and made it there with 20 minutes before the race which was just about perfect since I don't stretch or warm up at all before running.

I was really nervous on the start line and considered walking away. What in the world was I getting myself into? On start line of a 30 kilometre race was the last place that I wanted to be at that moment. I'm looking around to see hundreds of people with fancy digital pace watches and half a dozen water bottles clipped to their belts. I'm standing there with nothing.

The race started off well. I was cooking along nicely and just going about my business. At one point someone came up to me and I asked him how long we'd been at it. He said about 38 minutes. He asked, "What is your pace goal?" "Pace goal?" I thought. I told him, "I have no idea. I'm just running my natural pace and will go for as long as I can." He said, "Well, you're fast."

I was surprised that he would think that, and I continued on. Mileage markers ended at the 15 k mark and I was very confused about the route. There were people on the course, but there were large gaps in between, and for much of the time I wasn't sure that I was going in the right direction. Because of this, a lot of people cheated and cut corners. When the route doubled back people would just turn around rather that running the complete course. I found it rather frustrating, and then I decided that the only important part was my time and running my own race.

The mileage markers resumed at 25 k and I was much more comfortable knowing that I was going the right direction. There were a few problems at the water stations as the volunteers were more concerned about giving water to the 15k walkers than to the 30k runners. I was absolutely drenched in sweat, and needed fluids badly, but I missed a couple of water stations because of their inattention. Actually, it really ticked me off and at one point I stopped at a table and got my own water. They were volunteers and I couldn't stay angry at them. I was thankful that the effort was there.

At the end of the race I was knackered. When I stopped, I was given a bottle of water which I finished in three steps. I grabbed two more and downed them. My knee hurt like crazy, and I could hardly stand. I managed to get to the food table, and ate a bagel, an energy bar and a banana. I stripped off my shirt and was able to ring out the sweat. I towelled off and put on a dry shirt. I walked to the portolet and got out of my soaked shorts and into dry underwear and jeans. By then the food and water hit me and I began to feel like myself again.

I continued eating and drinking and put all my running stuff away and got into my civies. My knee had stopped hurting and other than being tired, I felt fine. I went into the bar and ordered a pint of Becks. That might have been the best tasting beer of my whole life. I sat outside at a picnic table with friends as people continued to eek across the finish line.

I finished in 8th place out of 215 people with a time of 2:12:49 with a pace of 4:26 per kilometre. I didn't expect to be under 2.5 hours, and thought that if I could break the 2:30 barrier I would be very happy. I was so happy with my result, and have started to wonder if maybe this running thing is something that I'm actually good at. I'm certaintly not going to win any races, but I am really happy about finishing in the top ten.

When I started running on March 27th, my goal was to get into better shape and stop feeling like crap all the time. I ran 2 kilometres on my first day. After training for a few weeks, I decided that I needed a loftier goal and thought that finishing a half marathon would be reasonable. After running a half marathon in training a full two months before the race, I decided to just go for the full. I wanted to simply finish, but eventually qualify for the Boston Marathon. With this result and another 5 weeks of training, I really think that I can accomplish both. I can't really imagine having a time that would qualify me for anything but maybe it is possible.

So that's that.

I also got a call on Friday afternoon at 4:53 advising me that I did not get the teaching job. Looks like I'm back at square one. I'm not that upset about it. It irks me a little that this is the third time that I've narrowly missed a great opportunity, but something great is just around the corner, and I hardly have anything to complain about.

I Can Give You Life, I Can Take It Away

In many ways, my whole future has been hanging in the balance for the past week.

I'm still waiting to hear about my possible teaching job. Though most times I believe that no news is good news, when it comes to jobs, the sooner you hear the better. I've been waiting since 9:00 on Friday morning, and I am acutely aware that as each minute ticks by the chances of being the successful candidate diminish. No matter how busy you are at a school at this time of year, it doesn't take terribly long to discuss the candidates and come to a final decision. Certainly, the job of calling the successful candidate is a pleasure and something that any administrator enjoys, whereas I could see putting off calling the losers for as long as possible.

When I think about the importance of the outcome of their decision on my life it can be rather overwhelming. Aside from the work, the staff, the parents, the students, and everything else that will change, I often wonder how more minor events will affect me. For example, rather than walking south to work, I will be walking east. I will see different people and pass different intersections. I will become a part of other people's lives and will have an impact on them as other will impact my life.

I don't believe that , "there is one all-powerful force that controls everything," but I do think that the choices we make have a tremendous impact. I was walking to work yesterday, and was struck by the fragility of it all. I was walking down Bathurst and was faced with a decision: I could continue south and then turn left at College, or I could cut across an elementary school playground and save a little time. I decided to take the short cut, but as I walked across the field, I was plagued by the possible life impacts of that mundane choice. Since I saved a little time, will I therefore be somewhere I shouldn't be when I'm not supposed to be there? Could a car come flying around a corner and plough into me because I arrived a few seconds too soon? Likewise, might I have also missed being smashed because I had passed that crash site seconds before?

At the end of the schoolyard, I had to jump a fence, I thought about my 30k race this weekend, and how jumping this fence might affect that. Usually, I would bound over the fence, but instead I skulked over it slowly and deliberately. I figured that if I took even one bad step, I might twist and ankle or pull my knee. I wasn't willing to risk it.

Something that has had a big impact on me has been my decision to visit my friend Brian on Tuesday. I headed over for a drink on his patio with a few other friends. That evening, Blockhead was recommended to me. I've been listening ever since. How has my life changed because of it? I'm listening to different music as I walk around the city, and that it has an impact my mood and the way that I see the world. Maybe I'm noticing different people, and storefronts. Maybe I'm thinking about different things, and drawing different conclusions about the world because at that particular moment, I am listening to track x from album y by band z instead of track a from album b by band c. All of that has to matter. All of that small stuff has to make a difference. It must.


Blockhead "You've Got Maelstrom"

A Taste of Convalescence

My phone rang this morning at 6:30. The last time my phone rang at 6:30 in the morning, was January 27th. I missed the phone, and then dreaded listening to the message. It was from my Dad, and I couldn't face it so I cruelly and selfishly put off calling him back for two hours. The message was cryptic at best. It cut off halfway through which left me even more confused and reticent.

Last weekend, my Dad broke his leg/ankle. After suffering for a few days, they put him in a cast and gave him some crutches. He decided, as stupid men are wont to do, rather than using his crutches properly, to instead hop around on his good leg. It wasn't long before his rather ample frame did damage to his other leg, thus making him completely immobile.

My father now sits at his local convalescence home. He has nurses who can now help him to and from the bathroom, and someone prepares his meals. He will remain there until he is able to recover enough to walk a little on his own.

I have suggested to my Dad that he come and live with me. I will cook his meals and clean his bedpans, if necessary. I will keep him company and take care of his dog. My father weighs twice as much as I do, and with no training, I will not be much help to him when it comes to mobility. That said, I think that it would be much better for him to not be in a home, and I think that that space would be much better used by someone more needy (presumably, my Dad is not putting anyone out, and should someone more in need come along, the space would be made available to them).

So, in a week that just keeps on getting more and more interesting, I may have now added caring for my father to my life. I willingly will do the best I can. I am always just so amazed at how quickly things can change and how there is always something new when you don't expect it.

Codename: Nugget

I was asked the question last night, "What about your blog?"

I have been a long time reader of Girl With a One-Track Mind, and have been particularly fascinated by the posts of the last few days.

The author of the blog, Abby Lee (a pseudomnym), has gone to painstaking efforts throughout her blog's life to hide her true identity. Her blog chronicles her sexual exploits and her reflections on her life and loves. It's a fascinating read, especially for a man like me who knows painfully little about women.

Lee has recently had a book published that has become an immediate bestseller (whatever that means) in the U.K. and has been fodder for the British newspapers. She has been recently outed as her name has been uncovered and published (along with pictures) for the entire world to see.

From her recent posts it's difficult to believe that this is a publicity stunt. She seems genuinely upset as her life has been thrown into the judging spotlight.

I can empathize with her. When my mother died, I was shocked to discover that her fatal car accident had made the local nightly newscast. Details of the accident were aired with images of the crumpled car. Her name was read.

I couldn't believe that that information was aired. It was, obviously, an absolutely horrific crash, and one that I suppose was newsworthy since the highway was closed for hours. Still, no one contacted us to ask for permission to air the story, nor did they ask for permission to mention her name.

I'm not sure if legally, journalists are bound to ask for permission to publish such details, but from an ethical standpoint, shouldn't a journalist seek out the family before showing video of the destroyed vehicle and airing the victim's name?

I think that Ms. Lee's treatment has been reprehensible. Sure, she's selling a lot of books, but at what cost to her own freedom? I could only guess that based on the events of her life over the past week that if given the chance to go back in time, I doubt she would do it again.

So, indeed, what about my blog?

I have often wondered if my students have ever stumbled across it. A simple google search will uncover it, and I am quite sure that on the first day of school, any number of students will be googling their new teacher. I would if I were them.

So, would I want my students reading my blog and all its personal stories? I suppose not. It isn't as though I have anything to hide, or that I regret any of my posts. Maybe I should, but I don't. This is my life and I don't believe that it is a particularly unusual one. I think that it's relatable and I think that it's good for a few lessons.

I'm wondering, though, if I could glean a lesson from Ms. Lee's story. I think that I must now go through a series of precautionary measures to ensure that my anonymity is maintained, not because I want to hide, but simply because I want to have the freedom and comfort to continue what I'm doing.

Friday Fizzle

It was a slow evening last night. I had gotten up so early (6:15am) that by the end of the day I was wiped. During the afternoon, it was a struggle not to nod off at my desk. I was captioning a documentary on AIDS which was very interesting, but quite heavy, and so my brain was a bit fried by the end of my shift.

I sent a follow-up thank you email to the principal who interviewed me. I took a long time on it and made sure that it was perfect. I figure that if she's on the fence, then this might seal it for me. My fingers are still crossed.

That afternoon, a friend called because he wanted to hang out in my apartment and play vids. I didn't care and so he came by my office building and I gave him my keys. As I walked home, I called him to find that, 6 hours later, he was still there. What a nerd. It was nice to have some company when I got home and we chatted for a while.

I got changed into my running gear and as I sat on the couch watching his golf character win some sort of lame tournament, I tried to convince myself to actually go running. I was so disinterested in it, and it took all that I had to get out the door.

I did manage, through will power alone, to run. It was a very cool evening; a little too cool, actually. My legs felt good, but I was struggling throughout with my motivation and my stomach. I've had a really sore stomach for the last little while for some reason (probably too much raisin-almond granola). At the end of every block I considered turning around. In the end, my determination ruled and I ran up Bathurst to the 401 and back to my apartment: 16 kilometres.

When I got home, I took a shower and had a big slice of watermelon. I curled up in bed and started reading The Kite Runner. A friend let me borrow it and I've heard a lot of great things about it. I managed to read the first chapter. That's no accomplishment since it was less than one full page. I slept soundly until my alarm went off at 7:45. As I was trying to force myself to get up, I glanced at the book on the shelf and really wished that I could spend the morning (and afternoon) reading and napping. No luck.

I got up and dressed and headed off to work. Forty-five minutes on foot, half an XFM broadcast, and a muffin later, I'm back at my desk with my AIDS documentary.

Post-Interview Blues

My interview is over and on the way home I had the usual internal conflicts. I think that it went well, but I can rationalize anything. I could see them giving me the job and I could justify it with sound arguments. I could also justify with equally sound arguments why they would not give it to me. That's the rub, and the self-inflicted psychological torture.

It was one of those getting-to-know-you interviews. The ones where they are already convinced that you are capable, but want to find out if you're going to be a productive part of the team. There was chit-chat, anecdotes, and a few laughs. It really felt like a first or second date. I was a little nervous, and had to walk the fine line of being confident, but not being arrogant. I digress, but I've never understood exactly what confident means in the phrase: "I like a man who's confident." To me confidence is pomposity and who wants that?

So they said that they would let me know sometime next week. I had hoped that they would be able to give me the word today, but it doesn't sound like that will happen. I have learned that the longer the wait the greater the chance that the job went to someone else. For now, I will run things over in my head and think about what I might have done better. I'll also be hoping against hope that the news is good.

I guess that the tell-tale sign that the job is mine wasn't there. There were, however, a couple of "if you are the successful candidate" slip-ups, so that could be interpreted as a good thing. I can, and will, torment myself about it all. At this point, though, there isn't much that can be done. It's so hard to want something that is so close and have no control when it comes to actually getting it.

Ban The Bomb

When I read that terrorists were planning on using liquid explosives aboard flights from the U.K. to the U.S. I laughed and laughed at the reaction to ban carrying liquids onto planes.

Airport security is one of those things that we all have to cope with every time we take a flight. Though we grumbled when our bags were checked and nail files and golf ball-mark repairers were confiscated, we all knew that it was for our safety. I might argue that it is absurd to take sewing needles from an 85-year-old grandmother of 17. Nevertheless, we have accepted our new lives as passengers. Still, I expect that any terrorist who has worked their way up through the organization is probably quite capable of killing a man with his/her bare hands; a pair of cuticle scissors would, I expect, be more of a hindrance than a help.

In this propensity to ban rather than think, we are now being advised not to carry shampoo, gels, makeup, suntan lotion, and toothpaste in our luggage. Well, so be it, but I hope that we all enjoy our blast down this slippery slope.

My suggestion to terrorists is to create a bomb that is made out of cloth. What a tremendous blow it would be to tourism and the global economy if airports were forced to ban clothing from luggage. "I'm sorry ma'am that brazier and blouse are banned. Sorry sir, we're going to have to confiscate that Speedo. Excuse me, Gran, if you're planning to take this flight, you're going to have to strip down and be completely naked, but be sure to wiggle your hips a little."

My advice to terrorists is to just think a little about the idiocy of your enemy. Any system that bans air passengers from carrying toothpaste isn't much of an adversary. To be honest, after this morning, you might as well accept the fact that you've won and revel in the success of knowing that millions of air travellers will be suffering from halitosis, razor burn, clogged pores, and sunburn.

This Just in...

Second interview on Friday morning!

The only problem now is that I'm even closer to actually getting a real job.

Weekend Away

I managed to get out on Friday at 10:00. We arrived at the cottage at midnight and didn't do too much the first evening. We were tired and headed to bed fairly early.

I woke up early the next morning and went for a run. It was nice and relaxed and I did 8k in 40 minutes. It wasn't really even worth doing, but I thought that I needed it.

We had a bunch of jobs to do and so after having breakfast and sitting on the dock, I started mowing the lawn and picking up all the branches that had fallen during a storm earlier in the week. With the jobs finished, I spent the rest of the afternoon swimming, reading, and drinking. I dropped a backgammon piece under the dock, so I spent a good part of the day trying to find my diving mask and then trying to find the piece. No luck.

I was wiped by the end of day, because I had resisted the afternoon nap, and had downed about 8 beers. We had an extravagant dinner and I decided to call it quits early and went to bed at around midnight. Everyone wanted to go to the bar. I'm sure that they just wanted to line shots up in front of me, but I went to bed.

I was up at 7:30 the next morning and headed over to Minett for a 10k race. It was very hilly and I ran like crazy. I finished in 8th place with a time of 41:02. Since I finished 3rd in my division, I got a medal. As we waited for the awards to be handed out, I won a door prize of a bag, hat, and book. It was a great day, a fun race, and I ended up ahead.

When I got back home, I cracked a beer and read on the dock. I was sleepy, so I napped for two hours. I stayed up for a little while and then decided to give in and I had a second nap. I've never had two naps in the same afternoon, but it was worth it. I woke up refreshed and ready to go.

We had hamburgers for dinner and then after a brief locking-the-keys-in-the-cottage panic we headed over to the Sloan concert. I thought that the concert was great, but that might be because I had had so many drinks. It was fun to bounce around again circa 1999. I'm luvin' the new single.

We stumbled back to the cottage, and then I went to bed. I didn't partake in drunken swimming, but the tradition continued in my absence.

Monday morning was grump-time. The day of departure always stinks. It's really depressing. People are disappointed either because they built it up too muchand are let down, or are just dreading the return to reality. Nevertheless, tempers were a little short. We cleaned the house and got everything put away. We were real pigs this weekend, but managed to get everything sorted.

The ride home was fun. I was a little hungover, but I enjoyed the conversation and being the DJ.

I got home at about 4:00, went for a 10k run, and then got ready to go to the Roger's Cup tennis matches. The event was great but would be so much more popular and better attended if it wasn't in the middle of nowhere North York. York University is a helluva long way from my house. It is amazing to me that an event like this can happen when the venue is so inaccessible. Sure public transport will get you there, but it is a long ride from the Bloor line to your seat and back.

The matches were great. Bester got smoked by Blake, but Benneteau surprised Baghdatis in a very entertaining three set match.

Today was my job interview. It went very well, and I'm thinking that I'll get a second interview. The two women who interviewed me were very nice, and thanks to some good preparation, I felt like I did a great job answering their questions. Cross your fingers!

I got kicked out of my house for a showing this evening. I was supposed to have a friend over for a barbeque. It's a good thing it didn't happen, because I ran out of propane halfway through cooking meal. I had to resort to the old stove-top finish off.

So now I'm eating chicken breasts, baked yams, and salad. I'm waiting to see where the evening takes me before I head back to work tomorrow for a day of time and a half.

If I'm Lost It's Only For a Little While

You can enjoy "Monsters" by Band of Horses. Be sure to crank up the final 90 seconds.

I don't have time to post much. I have a big job interview this afternoon, and have spent the morning rummaging through shipping boxes to find lessons and evaluations. I've researched the school and their academic program. I've been running through possible questions in my head and have studied some important names that I need to drop. I've done laundry and have some fancy clothes set out to wear. The only thing to do now is to shower and make sure not to cut myself shaving. If I can do that I think that I'll be set.

The cottage weekend was a blast and I will post about that later.

Checking In

It feels as though I haven't posted in a while and this will be the last entry for a few days. I'm headed out of town for a cottage weekend.

It's been a very interesting week. Things have been quite busy at work. We've been working hard to get the series, Hockey: A People's History, finished. When we have a big series like that to work on, we usually pick away at it in our spare time and on weekends. During a typical day, there is usually a lot of regular work to do that will keep us from concentrating on ongoing series. But with the deadline of 3:00 yesterday, I decided that I should head in early. Work doesn't arrive until the mid to late afternoon, and so going in 9:00 would give me 5 hours of uninterupted time.

So, I went in early on Wednesday and Thursday. It meant that I had to seriously adjust my sleep cycle. When you're accustomed to sleeping until 11:30, getting up at 7:30 can be tricky. The problem that I've been having this week is that I've had a lot of trouble sleeping. I only really got 4 hours of sleep on Tuesday and 5 hours on Wednesday.

So yesterday, I woke up at 6:05 and decided that I would go for a run. I'm not sure exactly why I thought that was a good idea, but I headed out. It was cool and quiet and peaceful. I ran to Yonge and Lawrence and arrived back to my apartment a sweaty mess at 7:35. It was showertime and then off to work.

I managed to get the final episode finished with 30 minutes to spare.

After work, I barbequed and then decided to play free poker. On the first hand, I was dealt 9-4 of spades in the big blind ($50) and I called a $200 raise for some reason. The flop came 6s-4d-4c, and I'm luvin' it. The turn was an Ace of spades, and so I was looking at a set and a flush draw. There was some very heavy betting, and then the river came 2s. I hit my longshot flush so I was confident that I was all right. My opponent had pocket aces and the full house and so I gave up about 75% of my chips.

I managed to hang around until the break and then after the add-on, I had $1,700 in chips. It was very sad considering you start with 5,000 and then add 1,000 after the break. So I was very short, and had to play carefully. I managed to hang around and doubled up a few times. By the time we hit the final table, I had 36,000 in chips.

I bled out a few chips at final table while player knocked themselves out. I couldn't get any action on my pocket aces, and then again with my A-K suited. I was forced all-in when I had my second AK. I was dominating preflop as he had K-J. The flop came 6-J-Q. I quickly became the underdog and had to hope to hit my Ace. The turn was a 4 and helped nothing, but I caught a 10 on the river to hit my straight. I was the chip leader at that point as I had taken a big dent out of Mr. Bigstacks. I got heads up as the chip leader and played what I thought was perfect heads-up poker. I had drained him of a few chips when I had hands and then folded my 7-2 and 10-3. I was dealt Q-6 in the big blind and checked. The flop came Q-4-6. I forced him all-in. He called quickly and flipped Q-4. What a beauty. I avoided the 4 and won the tournament. It was my second win on "the tour" but my first at that location. I earned a whopping $15 gift certificate.

So poker people might have enjoyed that, but my guess is that most of you just skipped ahead. Poker players have an annoying habit of talking about their exploits. I don't mind it, but will try not to make a habit of it.

I'm heading downstairs to pack and get ready. My coworker asked if he could arrive and leave early today, and I said all right. I've left him to work the evening shift two days in a row week and as much as I would have liked to have made it three, and I couldn't say no to his request. Guilt is a terrible thing, but much worse when it is completely unnecessary. I want to get packed and ready so that I can just stop at home load the car and go. It should be a fun weekend. See you on Tuesday!

Don't Mug Yourself

This evening was a friend's birthday get-together. I hope that he had a good time, but it is really hard to go out on a Tuesday night and really tie one one. Well, to be fair, it isn't hard for me since going to bed drunk at 3am and waking up at 11:30 is a fairly normal evening. For all those people who "care" and are "going places" that's not really a viable option.

It was kind of a strange evening. I was supposed to see a movie tonight because I got mixed up on the day of the soiree. Instead, I took my date to the party. I sent this email to a friend:

"It's been a long time since I've seen anything funnier than the look on your face when I arrived at [the bar] with [the girl]. You seemed so bewildered and so proud. It was something that I wish I could bottle and sell. It was absolutely brilliant. Thanks for making my day."

The look on his face was priceless, and I think that it really was a glimpse into the kind of life that I have. Despite all the bumps, I know that evenings like this where you can go out with friends and just have a great evening out is all that I really need. To be able to witness something like that look was not only a laugh-riot, but just so comforting.

It puts the past few months into perspective and makes me wonder about what the next few months will bring.

Sometimes, I really can't believe my luck.

TGIAugust

Again with the excessive heat. It's been so hot here for the past few days and it's so cold in my basement apartment that when I go outside my glasses steam up.

At 10:30 last night, it was 28 degrees and with the humidity felt like 42. I'm not sure why, exactly, but I ran 12 kilometres. It was an accident. I registered for two races: a 10k on Sunday morning, and a 30k on the evening of the 19th.

August is my favourite month of the year. The summer is beginning to wind down, and people realize that if they haven't enjoyed it, they had better get on it right way. The haying is usually finished by August (and it is this year, too, by the way), so I can take time at the cottage with friends. My relationships, that all seem to end in March, have all started in August, and though I think that both those facts are a little strange, I'm not going to worry about it too much.

What else can I say? Today is haircut day. I feel sick to my stomach for no explainable reason. I woke up at 9:00 to get laundry soap. I cleaned my apartment yesterday. I wore shorts at work for the first time yesterday. I ate a low-fat blueberry muffin yesterday that I suspect is not actually low-fat, but I don't think that there is any way to prove it. I'm all alone at work today, thankfully (my controlling co-worker, and the loudmouth are both off). Other than that everything continues on as usual until the big weekend out of town that begins in t-80 hours.