Saturday, July 9, 2011

Down by the riverside. . .

July 9, 2011


Stephen has been working diligently on his doctoral proposal.

And it isn't easy.



In fact, at 4.19 pm on a Saturday afternoon, he is hiding in an office somewhere in Edmund Casey, writing, writing and more writing.

Dedication?

Insanity?

Commitment?

Or all three?



A trip to see Norma-the-greatest-hair-stylist-at-Klub-Soda was the first item on yesterday's agenda.

Em, Stephen and I experienced a collective pampering at Norma trimmed Em's bangs and ends, rid Stephen of his heat inducing locks, and covered my grey obnoxious for another few weeks.


Obviously, I'm not very good at taking pictures of myself.

I don't mind having grey hair.

I mind having grey hair just at the sides of my face.

Looking like two grey wings ready to fly me off to some distant land where hair dye isn't available.

Keith was also supposed to be in attendance, however, his work schedule didn't permit his presence.

The burgeoning bird's nest on his head will be massive by the time I wrangle him in to see Norma.

She won't need hair cutting tools so much as a chain saw and hedge clippers.




Two hour later, everyone was GORGEOUS and hungry.

Especially hungry.

Our next stop then, was M&T Deli.


This is the newest location for the very popular downtown eatery.

I spent many, many happy hours during my grad school days at the original M&T which was located at the bottom of Regent Street, and is now home to the Snooty Fox pub.

The moved to the corner of Queen and Regent, and more hours were spent eating one of my favourite lunch time meals, the bagel with cream cheese and dill pickle.

Oh.

My.

Gawd.

That's how good it is.

Sometimes, after a rough day negotiating through the political terrain of grad school, I'd stop at M&T for a much wanted homemade chocolate chip cookie the size of your head, and a steaming mug of peppermint tea.

I'd do the same now, but the peppermint tea doesn't seem nearly as delectable without the chocolate chip cookie.

I even had my own mug sitting atop their shelf.

And I was the only one who used it.

When Keith was much younger, the only birthday cake he wanted was a carrot cake from M&T Deli.

I'm just happy now if I see him on his birthday, let alone lavish him with luscious carrot cakes covered with sumptuous cream cheese icing.

They recently moved again, just further up Queen Street to more spacious quarters, so it seemed an ideal time to head inside for lunch.

A hungry Emily only leads to a hungry, cranky Emily.

Hungry Stephen's become miserable, headachy Stephens.

And I just needed to eat.

Falafel wraps with tzatziki for me and Stephen.

Club sandwich, no cheese, no tomato for Em.

Mmmmmmmm. . . . .

I strongly suggest you give them a try next time your downtown and feeling peckish.



Stephen and I took Em to work after lunch and then made the spontaneous decision to check out Jinglers.

A used clothing store on Prospect Street.

We go to Frenchies when we're in Oromocto.

Salvation Army store when we're downtown.

But we'd never been to Jinglers.

And of course I didn't have the camera with me.

Because only pictures could do justice to this nirvana of used clothing stores.

Located on the bottom floor, we opened the door and were immediately greeted with the largest piles of used clothing I've ever seen.

And it isn't a large space, not like Frenchies, but they have maximized what space they have.

There is barely room to negotiate around the piled-high-with-clothes tables.

Walls covered with scarves, purses and shoes, more clothes hanging up.

I've never been to a used clothing store that had so much in terms of plus sized clothing.

Because even though I've lost 81.2 pounds, I am still very much plus size.

Me and my ghetto bootie.

I actually didn't even manage to make a dent in the pile I was looking through.

Not a dent.

And next to the table piled high with t-shirts was the table piled equally high with shorts and capris.

Stephen was busy working his way through the men's section at the opposite end of the store, so I was blissfully left on my own to excavate the piles in search of things that would fit my slowly shrinking figure.

When we decided we should go, not because we were anywhere near finished, but because the invisible cord connecting us with our loyal canine companions was not-so-gently-tugging at us as we knew their need to pee was increasing exponentially, we checked out with the following items:

Me:
Two pairs of capris
A pair of shorts
Five t-shirts
Two blouses

Stephen:
Three polo shirts
One short sleeved cotton button down shirt (his favourite kind!)
Two sleep t-shirts.

All for the grand total of $46.10

Now THAT is what I call shopping.

The last time we were at the Salvation Army, we ran into someone we know, and she looked at us, shocked and amazed we were there, and said,

I can't believe YOU shop here.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

That just because I can, if I want to and usually I don't, put a Dr. in front of my name means I can't be a careful shopper?

Stephen and I have no money.

We have teenage, young adult dependents.

A husband completing an American doctorate.

Budget conscious is our real last name.

I admit.

I was insulted.

But I just smiled and said, why of course we do.

And really, if someone is constantly trying to stretch their dollars as far as they can go, why would they want to pay for overpriced clothing at the mall?

Even Em is intrigued.

We're going back Tuesday.

And this time, there will be no canine bladders calling to me.




To top off what ultimately resulted in being a no-work-all-play kind of day. . . .

. . .the kind of day we hadn't at all planned for at all. . .

. . .we spent a lovely evening with friends, eating great food, enjoying wonderful conversation along the banks of the Saint John River.

Every summer, my book club has a let's-get-together-with-our-husbands gathering.

Always at our friend, Wendy's house.

The last couple of years it was raining on our scheduled day, and we had to stay inside.

But last evening was glorious, and we were more than happy to be outside, gentle breeze blowing while the river softly lapped at the shore.

Smoked salmon. . .


. . .ribs so tender they fell off the bone, maple baked beans that most definitely did not feel like cement, cole slaw, potato salad, stuffed mushrooms, shrimp and pasta salad. . . .

Really, I should have taken more pictures, but I was simply too busy eating.

Although in the presence of such bounty, not eating like I hadn't seen food in six months was very difficult.

But I was the model of restraint.

I had to be.

Weigh in is Monday and there's still the weekend to get through.



Plus being along the river. . .











And other neat things . . .








We were joined briefly, by a group of ducks swimming lazily down the river, seemingly in no hurry to get anywhere. . .

This is as close as they'd let me get to them.







As well as some four legged friends. . .


Glorious flowers. . .












Overall, a lovely evening spent in good company.

Much needed in light of traversing the mall with mother this afternoon.

And that will have to wait until tomorrow.



Title Lyric: Down by The Riverside by Patsy Cline

Thursday, July 7, 2011

I'm on the right track baby, I was born this way. . .

July 7, 2011

What have I been doing at the library all this time?

Reading.

A research study from 1933, looking at the affect of motion pictures on the criminal activities of adult and young offenders, male and female.

I am halfway through this book Movies, Crime and Delinquency, which is certainly very interesting.

Currently, I'm reading the chapter where female offenders discuss how films made them feel, in particular "love films" and how this lead to their delinquent or criminal activity.

All of which seem to centered around sex.

Yet another example of how women were punished for being sexual beings.

So I vacillate between "you're-kidding-right!!!!????" and "this-is-so-interesting!!!"

It's an exhausting place to be.






And yesterday was a bit more difficult than usual.

Typically, I LOVE my time at the library, and always lament its end.

Cool, quiet (at least most of the time), no computer directly in front of me, calling me, calling me to distractions I don't need.

Or want.

But yesterday I was tired.

Two venti cups of coffee didn't even help.

When normally they would have put me on the moon.

My concentration was off.

It took me forever to get through one chapter.

Common sense would dicate that I should go home and get some sleep.

But so far, common sense hasn't had much of an impact on what I do.






In addition, I have to read this so I can write a grant application for mega bucks to replicate/modify Blumer's research.

And it's due, in New York City, August 1st.

Lots and lots of formatting restrictions.

Time, as usual, is running out.

So I'm a bit panicked.

And, Emily had yesterday off.

About as rare as me waking up a millionaire.

When she has days off, she likes to do something.

With me.

I know.

I am flattered, believe me.

She had yesterday afternoon planned down to the last second.

Lunch at The Garrison.

Shopping, movie, shopping.

Dealing with an issue at work.

Oh if I could write about it.

You have no idea how hard it is to not write about it.

Em, however, would immediately become infused with such anger towards me that she'd morph into a female version of the Incredible Hulk and that'd be it for me.

Done for.

Shot to below the depths of hell in her esteem.

Not a place I want to be.

So, I have to keep my mouth shut, my thoughts to myself, and the words I want to write locked up tighter than Fort Knox.

But. . .

There is always a but.

I can say one thing.

Anyone, I don't care who you are, who thinks they can bully Emily at work, or anywhere, is most deluded.

Don't.

Seriously.






So, back to yesterday. . . .

Tired.

So tired.

And at the library at 8.00 am, in spite of not sleeping well the night before because I knew the afternoon was planned to the nth degree by my own personal entertainment director, Emily.

She did acqueise to me having a 30 minute nap prior to our shenanigans, but, knowing I had to be up and moving in 30 minutes prevented me from getting to that I-can-doze place.

Plus Frankie was licking himself beside my head.

Not a sound that welcomes sleep.

Fifteen minutes into my "nap" I gave up, got up, changed and we were off.

Lunch was good.

Shopping was tolerable.

Em was in search of a new bathing suit for our August trip to the beach.

In fact, she was excited.

I was not, simply because bathing suit shopping with Em has never been on the top of my list of things I want to when at the mall.

However, Em did brilliantly.

She knew what she wanted, where it was, and she was willing to pay for it.

So how could I have been do averse?

And, she looks stunning!

I really wish that Emily could see herself the way I see her.

Beautiful.

Funny.

Stunning.

Intelligent.

Gorgeous.

Brilliant.






(Ignore the poodle masquerading as hair on my head)

Instead of how she sees herself through the media saturated images of unrealistic looking young women gaze she has been inundated with.

At the corner of Queen and York, after we left the restaurant and we were waiting for the light to change so we could cross the street, a young man was giving Emily a very appreciative glance.

More appreciative than I was comfortable with, that's for sure.

In fact, he was lucky he had wheels and I was on foot, or there would be one blind young man in Fredericton today.

Once I poked his eyes out.

But Em merely said, he wasn't looking at me.

Oh.

Yes.

He.

Was.

I wish she could see herself the way I, and everyone else, sees her.






Movie?

Well, let's just say that seeing Monte Carlo with Selena Gomez was clearly, most definitely, shall always be considered an ultimate sign of just how much I love and adore Emily.

Because only love and adoration was stronger than the loathing and aversion I was experienced when Em informed me of what film we were seeing.

Parents really do things just because they love their children.

Really.






It has been so warm here.

So very warm.

Even the pets can't find much refuge and respite.

Goblet has resorted to drastic measures.

Hanging out in her travel crate.





Look at those teeth!


This is how she looks at me all the time.





Drives Frankie crazy because his access to her is limited.

I don't think she has a problem with that.

At all.






Today I'm going to try to work from home.

Partly because I want to begin leash training with Frankie.

Partly because both kids work tonight and it'd be nice to see them for longer than it takes to drive them to work.

Partly because I just want to be at home.

The only thing I've planned is the purchase of a fan for my mother's room.

I might have accidentally given hers to Meredyth by mistake.

I didn't think we had four fans, but, there are days I don't remember my own name, so I'm not completely reliable.

All I know is that Mum's room gets awfully warm, and while she doesn't notice it at all, in fact, she still gets her warm blanket every night, the rest of us certainly do.

Especially my father.

I'm surprised no one has called me about it.

He's coming in to see her today.

Meaning there'd better be a fan in her room before he gets there.




Title Lyric:  Born this Way by Lady Gaga