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been a while...
Feb. 24th, 2003 10:08 pm...where to start? The last shall be first, I suppose, so here's the latest: I have signed up at the Y! And I did 32 minutes on the treadmill! Never mind that it was on the lowest possible setting, and that it was despicably easy to get close to 80% of my maximum heart rate; one must begin somewhere. (Jen has persuaded me to take the Self Challenge, so this is only the beginning.) Am currently eating half-frozen salad (fridge is still troublesome) and waiting for my lasagna to heat up.
Another Monday juggling 3 projects (I think... lemme count... no, more like 5 1/2 counting all the stray little bits). Going not badly although a bit haphazardly, inevitable consequence of having so many of the little devils. Gia, I think, is finally headed right over the edge; she just got a whack of beta comments back and was muttering "I'll kill them! I'll kill them! New logo! Disclaimer on every single page! T'es malade?" when I left the office.
Lead programmer quit. Shame, he's good when you can get him focused on something although I-don't-need-to-check-this-the-project-manager-will-do-it habit is infuriating. Sounds like he has a fun job though.
Terrible hard time getting up this morning after 3-day weekend. They should all be like that. Aaaaaah. Did tiny little bit of yoga, not sure if it helped or not...
Laundry and accounts last night, the latter rather a depressing proposition. I'm not spending extravagantly, really I'm not (OK, maybe the Mimi & Coco T-shirt was unnecessary, but one must have clothes after all) and yet I'm barely living within my income. Hopefully tax refund will haul me out of debt a bit, and I can submit my expenses and possibly some stuff for the wellness program, and Mummy's giving me a cheque for my train ticket last weekend... still. Would be so nice not to be living perpetually in the red.
Anyway, all this is minor. Jen came to stay for the weekend and we had a great time -- very low-key, but highly civilized. She arrived Thursday afternoon (train trip literally hellish unfortunately -- the heating was broken in the "on" position and they ran out of drinks around Kingston), collected the key, window-shopped (some real shopping too, I was very impressed), and fed herself at the Claremont while I frantically tried to get everything corrected and uploaded on one of my projects for QA. Finally made it out of work around 7 and went to Pourquoi Pas for some tulips, I figured it was the least we deserved (there are 6 of them, orange with yellow around the edges -- they were tightly closed when I bought them and now they've relaxed open, perfectly gorgeous). Had to run for the bus, but I made it. We then betook ourselves right back to the Claremont for far too much animal protein (steak in my case, teriyaki chicken in Jen's) and fries (only for me -- yum). We decided that we did not necessarily wish to have a wild, exciting time; we would lower our expectations to a reasonable level and do what we felt like.
Friday: slept in; rejoiced several times at the fact that it was Friday and we weren't at work; considered what to do today, and eventually decided to hang out in my neighbourhood and window-shop. Which we did. I bought a grossly expensive made-in-Italy periwinkle-blue sleeveless T-shirt and some plant pots and gravel (but resisted the siren call of shoes!), and we duly admired the many cool emporia along my stretch of Sherbrooke. Then went home, and Jen napped and I did some dishes (my apartment having become scarily messy yet again, although only in spots -- the living room didn't require any work except for the layer of grime behind the sofa, but really that could happen to anyone), and then we repotted some of my plants and got rid of the dead ones and considered what other kinds of plants would be nice to have around our respective apartments, and did more dishes, and generally puttered.
Eventually decided ("lowered expectations!" being our mantra) to cook and rent a video for the evening, so I tackled lasagna a la Anne Lindsay and Jen went to get a video. Ended up with City by the Sea, which was good except for a hideous stretch towards the end (don't people trust their audiences to be able to figure out ANYTHING?). Frances McDormand justified our faith in her yet again. We ended up eating rather late, but it was good (if I do say so myself -- although I have to admit I refused to use cottage cheese in the lasagna, I have my limits, so it was ricotta -- honestly it's not THAT much fat, and it tastes so good).
Saturday: crumpets and pineapple and tea for breakfast, nice long stretch with the papers (the Whiny Male Columnist appears to be alternating with Russell Smith, who was going on about waistlines), then off to the Botanical Gardens for the Butterflies Go Free exhibit. And I must say it was lovely -- despite the crowds. There's something so calming and energizing about a greenhouse in winter anyway -- you're in the tropics and it's freezing outside -- add in butterflies all over the place and it really is heavenly. I didn't quite get the emphasis on the blue morphos when I read the website, but having seen them I now understand -- they're utterly ordinary at rest, sitting with their wings folded, drab and brown and dull, but then they take off and you see the hidden sides of their wings, which are this marvellous iridescent blue. Gorgeous.
By the time we got out of the metro there was a blizzard going on. A bit disconcerting. We had snacks at the Mess Hall, which has gone all wine-bar and was pretty empty, then decided the best thing we could do was get another movie, so we picked up The Maltese Falcon (which Jen was convinced she'd seen, but it turned out she'd seen The Big Sleep -- easy to confuse the two, although of course Marlowe is much more obviously on the side of the angels than Sam Spade).
Sunday: more papers, hot-cross buns and tea, then brunch at the Claremont with Kelly and Jean. Blizzard was still in force, but the snowploughs were out by that time. (Didn't affect the Claremont's clientele at all -- as Jen said, it's nice to know your preferred neighbourhood hangout is preferred by so many dedicated souls.) Then backgammon (she kicked my ass -- although I believe she has been playing on computer, and I will have my revenge), and we nearly managed to miss the train or would have if it had left on time (after frantic taxi ride to the station we found a line backed up to the main doors -- such a waste of adrenaline). Turns out this was A Sign of Things to Come, it took nearly 7 hours for the train to get to Toronto (was supposed to be 4 hours 20 minutes). Bloody Via.
All in all a great weekend, not so much for the activities or lack thereof, but just because it's nice to spend 3 days of quality time without distractions (and there are always distractions when I'm in Toronto). You don't feel so pressured to get all caught up, there's time to sit around and chat and be silly. That's what I miss most, I think, living here -- hanging out with my friends in the full knowledge and expectation that there will be other evenings to Do Stuff, and for this evening we can just relax.
Time for bed, but before I go I shall just rhapsodize for a second.
First, let me explain that before I came to Montreal my sole experience of snow was in the city of Toronto, where "Be nice! Clear your ice!" was the city's preferred sidewalk-clearing mantra -- in other words, individual householders/business owners were expected to keep their own sidewalks clear of ice and snow. This worked about as well as you might expect.
The city of Montreal, by contrast, places no such softheaded dependence on the public spirit of its citizens. Instead, it maintains a fleet of small vehicles for the task -- some custom-designed for the purpose, others converted tractors with ploughs welded on the front. These are driven up and down the sidewalks during and after blizzards at a speed that can only be prompted by a merry yet somehow magnificent disregard for pedestrian life and limb. Some are equipped with flashing lights; most are not. None of them to my knowledge makes a great deal of noise. I've never been brave enough to face one down and see if it will stop -- I suspect I know the answer to that one. Pedestrians fortunate enough to see one coming are wise to leap into the nearest snowbank. Those that don't see them coming -- well, those snowbanks are deep, and when all the snow is scooped up it's dumped in the river, so...
Lunatic, yet fun to watch. Those snowploughs just epitomize Montreal for me.
Whoa, long. Sorry about that, hope nobody minds. You all have scrollbars, right?
Another Monday juggling 3 projects (I think... lemme count... no, more like 5 1/2 counting all the stray little bits). Going not badly although a bit haphazardly, inevitable consequence of having so many of the little devils. Gia, I think, is finally headed right over the edge; she just got a whack of beta comments back and was muttering "I'll kill them! I'll kill them! New logo! Disclaimer on every single page! T'es malade?" when I left the office.
Lead programmer quit. Shame, he's good when you can get him focused on something although I-don't-need-to-check-this-the-project-manager-will-do-it habit is infuriating. Sounds like he has a fun job though.
Terrible hard time getting up this morning after 3-day weekend. They should all be like that. Aaaaaah. Did tiny little bit of yoga, not sure if it helped or not...
Laundry and accounts last night, the latter rather a depressing proposition. I'm not spending extravagantly, really I'm not (OK, maybe the Mimi & Coco T-shirt was unnecessary, but one must have clothes after all) and yet I'm barely living within my income. Hopefully tax refund will haul me out of debt a bit, and I can submit my expenses and possibly some stuff for the wellness program, and Mummy's giving me a cheque for my train ticket last weekend... still. Would be so nice not to be living perpetually in the red.
Anyway, all this is minor. Jen came to stay for the weekend and we had a great time -- very low-key, but highly civilized. She arrived Thursday afternoon (train trip literally hellish unfortunately -- the heating was broken in the "on" position and they ran out of drinks around Kingston), collected the key, window-shopped (some real shopping too, I was very impressed), and fed herself at the Claremont while I frantically tried to get everything corrected and uploaded on one of my projects for QA. Finally made it out of work around 7 and went to Pourquoi Pas for some tulips, I figured it was the least we deserved (there are 6 of them, orange with yellow around the edges -- they were tightly closed when I bought them and now they've relaxed open, perfectly gorgeous). Had to run for the bus, but I made it. We then betook ourselves right back to the Claremont for far too much animal protein (steak in my case, teriyaki chicken in Jen's) and fries (only for me -- yum). We decided that we did not necessarily wish to have a wild, exciting time; we would lower our expectations to a reasonable level and do what we felt like.
Friday: slept in; rejoiced several times at the fact that it was Friday and we weren't at work; considered what to do today, and eventually decided to hang out in my neighbourhood and window-shop. Which we did. I bought a grossly expensive made-in-Italy periwinkle-blue sleeveless T-shirt and some plant pots and gravel (but resisted the siren call of shoes!), and we duly admired the many cool emporia along my stretch of Sherbrooke. Then went home, and Jen napped and I did some dishes (my apartment having become scarily messy yet again, although only in spots -- the living room didn't require any work except for the layer of grime behind the sofa, but really that could happen to anyone), and then we repotted some of my plants and got rid of the dead ones and considered what other kinds of plants would be nice to have around our respective apartments, and did more dishes, and generally puttered.
Eventually decided ("lowered expectations!" being our mantra) to cook and rent a video for the evening, so I tackled lasagna a la Anne Lindsay and Jen went to get a video. Ended up with City by the Sea, which was good except for a hideous stretch towards the end (don't people trust their audiences to be able to figure out ANYTHING?). Frances McDormand justified our faith in her yet again. We ended up eating rather late, but it was good (if I do say so myself -- although I have to admit I refused to use cottage cheese in the lasagna, I have my limits, so it was ricotta -- honestly it's not THAT much fat, and it tastes so good).
Saturday: crumpets and pineapple and tea for breakfast, nice long stretch with the papers (the Whiny Male Columnist appears to be alternating with Russell Smith, who was going on about waistlines), then off to the Botanical Gardens for the Butterflies Go Free exhibit. And I must say it was lovely -- despite the crowds. There's something so calming and energizing about a greenhouse in winter anyway -- you're in the tropics and it's freezing outside -- add in butterflies all over the place and it really is heavenly. I didn't quite get the emphasis on the blue morphos when I read the website, but having seen them I now understand -- they're utterly ordinary at rest, sitting with their wings folded, drab and brown and dull, but then they take off and you see the hidden sides of their wings, which are this marvellous iridescent blue. Gorgeous.
By the time we got out of the metro there was a blizzard going on. A bit disconcerting. We had snacks at the Mess Hall, which has gone all wine-bar and was pretty empty, then decided the best thing we could do was get another movie, so we picked up The Maltese Falcon (which Jen was convinced she'd seen, but it turned out she'd seen The Big Sleep -- easy to confuse the two, although of course Marlowe is much more obviously on the side of the angels than Sam Spade).
Sunday: more papers, hot-cross buns and tea, then brunch at the Claremont with Kelly and Jean. Blizzard was still in force, but the snowploughs were out by that time. (Didn't affect the Claremont's clientele at all -- as Jen said, it's nice to know your preferred neighbourhood hangout is preferred by so many dedicated souls.) Then backgammon (she kicked my ass -- although I believe she has been playing on computer, and I will have my revenge), and we nearly managed to miss the train or would have if it had left on time (after frantic taxi ride to the station we found a line backed up to the main doors -- such a waste of adrenaline). Turns out this was A Sign of Things to Come, it took nearly 7 hours for the train to get to Toronto (was supposed to be 4 hours 20 minutes). Bloody Via.
All in all a great weekend, not so much for the activities or lack thereof, but just because it's nice to spend 3 days of quality time without distractions (and there are always distractions when I'm in Toronto). You don't feel so pressured to get all caught up, there's time to sit around and chat and be silly. That's what I miss most, I think, living here -- hanging out with my friends in the full knowledge and expectation that there will be other evenings to Do Stuff, and for this evening we can just relax.
Time for bed, but before I go I shall just rhapsodize for a second.
First, let me explain that before I came to Montreal my sole experience of snow was in the city of Toronto, where "Be nice! Clear your ice!" was the city's preferred sidewalk-clearing mantra -- in other words, individual householders/business owners were expected to keep their own sidewalks clear of ice and snow. This worked about as well as you might expect.
The city of Montreal, by contrast, places no such softheaded dependence on the public spirit of its citizens. Instead, it maintains a fleet of small vehicles for the task -- some custom-designed for the purpose, others converted tractors with ploughs welded on the front. These are driven up and down the sidewalks during and after blizzards at a speed that can only be prompted by a merry yet somehow magnificent disregard for pedestrian life and limb. Some are equipped with flashing lights; most are not. None of them to my knowledge makes a great deal of noise. I've never been brave enough to face one down and see if it will stop -- I suspect I know the answer to that one. Pedestrians fortunate enough to see one coming are wise to leap into the nearest snowbank. Those that don't see them coming -- well, those snowbanks are deep, and when all the snow is scooped up it's dumped in the river, so...
Lunatic, yet fun to watch. Those snowploughs just epitomize Montreal for me.
Whoa, long. Sorry about that, hope nobody minds. You all have scrollbars, right?
