Musical Prodigy

I like sleeping in.

I used to think everyone liked to sleep in, and am still amazed by early risers, but, yeah, the truth is, I like to sleep in.

But the funny thing (maybe) about it, is that I enjoy sleeping in much more if I'm "ignoring" an alarm in some way.

Even on work days, I have a morning routine that involves setting my alarm extra extra early, and then re-setting it to go off an hour later, just so I can get that "oh good I get to sleep longer" feeling every morning.

(And even then, I still allow myself a certain number of hits on the snooze button.) (I really do like sleeping in.)

So this weekend, knowing I had no work to get to, I was in a haven of sleeping in.

I have my alarm tuned to a radio station and on long weekends they play "all requests" and I noticed something about myself.

I can, even while asleep, or being woken up from being asleep, pick out what song is playing, from a second's worth of melody.

On work mornings, I'm all business. I hear the music, roll over, hit snooze. Rarely do I like the song enough to listen to it because I know I have to get up soon for work and I just want those extra nine minutes.

But on weekends, I'll hear the music, listen for a bit, sometimes through a chorus or half a song before rolling over and hitting snooze.

I did this a few times this weekend because they played a lot of Canadian songs (it *was* the Canada Day long weekend after all) and I liked a lot of them.

But there was one moment that made me laugh. (Well, not laugh so much as think "hah, that was funny,zzzz.") I had already hit snooze a few (gazillion?) times and hadn't moved from the "hit snooze" spot and as soon as I heard a millisecond's worth of noise, I just hit the darn button again. Didn't wait for even a note, just smack.

But, yeah. I have kind of a cool skill.

I can, while asleep, figure out what song's playing in the few seconds it takes me to roll over, reach up and hit snooze.

I may, in fact, be some kind of un-discovered genius you know.

I should probably keep sleeping in just to make sure I don't lose this skill, eh?

For June

So it's July now (not sure how June went so quickly?) and I didn't even get to tell you my favourite June-related story. So, I'm just going to have to tell it a few days late is all.

My Mom and I (and possibly the rest of my family, I don't really know) have always had this thing around the weather in June.

At some point, who knows when, my Mom said "it's chilly for June!" and it just kind of caught on.

As the years went on we'd say it at any time it was strangely cold just for a giggle. Middle of December, massive snow storm? "Brrr, chilly for June."

But this June in particular was... really quite chilly.

As in, I've not worn flip flops. In fact, I've worn my winter boots and been just fine temperature wise.

So there was a lot of opportunity this month to say "chilly for June". Like, pretty much every day.

Which got me thinking.

Maybe June in the Pacific Northwest is always a bit on the cooler than expected side, and maybe that was unusual enough for my Mom (who didn't grow up in Canada) to notice that the weather was chillier than she was used to for "summer."

Maybe June just isn't the warm month we mentally expect it to be here?

Granted, this wasn't a usual June I don't think (would have to check the records and am currently not motivated enough for that) but yeah, maybe it's never a scorcher?

Nonetheless. It certainly was "Chilly for June" this month, that's for sure.

What about you? Are you in the mythical "roasting hot" zones I keep hearing about? Or are you still enjoying a blanket in the evenings like I am?

Ahhhhhhh

So, that was, by all accounts (or, ok, maybe just by my account, but that's the one that matters!) a pretty darn perfect weekend.

It's always an extra relief heading into a three day weekend because you know there's that bonus day that just stretches things out.

Saturday, I completely mellowed out on my couch and read and watched episodes of The Dog Whisperer and really did a whole lot of nothing, except for a "better get some fresh air and exercise" walk later in the day.

Sunday, I mellowed out for the morning, did some laundry and chores and then headed downtown with a friend to catch some of the Canada Day celebrations and fun. We found a cool place to sit and had a yummy drink and appy. Then we met up with another friend and sat on the Legislature lawns to listen to some music and people watch. Then I went home and finished my book while listening to the fireworks and happy crowd.

Yesterday, I woke up and, you guessed it! Mellowed out on the couch for a while. Then C-Dawg and I wandered downtown to buy some books (BOOKS, YAY!) and then to our favourite pizza place for our favourite pizza (mmmmmm) and then I headed home to relax and eat leftover pizza.

It was nice having the feeling of not needing to be anywhere, and even the plans I made were kind of made at the last minute so they didn't feel like plans. Sunday was gorgeous and sunny and it was a perfect day to be out and about with the crowds of face painted, red and white wearing, Canadian flag carrying people.

It was also nice to not know, particularly, what day it was or to worry about having to be anywhere or do anything.

So triple yay for long weekends and sunny days and good food, hurray!

Weirdly Enough

I give you the songs that have been alternating in my head this week.

The first, because I asked my Dad to come to some mortgage meetings with me and I said to him it's because he's "the brains".

Which lead to this...


Pet Shop Boys - Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money) 

which lead me to listening to a ton of Pet Shop Boys songs while cleaning my kitchen. (Don't ask. It just happened to work.)


And then this one came along when I was trying to stop thinking about he who shall not be named because if I name him I may just slide back into thinking about him and let's not go there, ok but I kept telling myself to shake it off...which lead to this:


Florence + The Machine - Shake It Out


So there are the songs that have been playing in my head. Weird combo, eh? I could throw in a few others, but they wouldn't make me look any more normal.

Happy weekend though. I do believe it's a long one!

*insert huge grin here*

What Is *With* Me?

Ugh.

Now it's Fen I'm stuck thinking and wishing about.

What is going on with me these days?

Sigh.

Clap, Clap!*

Ok, that's enough DD reminiscing/wallowing.

How about I tell you about the kind of crazy or maybe just creepy guy from the online dating site? Ok!

So, there's a feature on this particular site where you can look at someone's profile and say if you'd want to meet them or not.

The first time I used this feature, C-Dawg and I were a glass of wine and some bad tv into a late summer evening and I found it all very amusing.

Until I started getting emails the next day and was horrified to realize the people you said you'd "like to meet" were actually informed you'd like to meet them. EEEK!

But anyway, whenever I get a notification that someone would like to meet me, I check them out. You know, just in case they're awesome or something.

Well, the other day, I got a notification that someone called "CarpetMuncher" (I kid you not) wanted to meet me.

I clicked on his profile, and I'm honestly hoping it was a joke. Like, maybe his friends created the profile as a joke when they were drunk one night?

But... I kind of think the guy was serious.

I shall try to be delicate here, but his profile talked about how he wasn't interested in any crazy ladies, but then went on to talk about his skill in bed and how he would make said non-crazy ladies feel and act in bed. In quite...interesting language.

I guess, when I come across this kind of profile, I wonder what these guys are thinking. Because if it's not a joke/novelty account....who, exactly, is he planning on dating? (Because, I'm pretty sure there are sex only "dating" sites out there. And this isn't one of them! Plus, his profile said he was looking for dating. Yikes.)







*you know, when you do that thing, like clap, clap, chop, chop, let's move on, dust things off kind of thing*

Witness

I was there for this


Dave Matthews - Farm Aid 2004 - Number 41 

So was DD.

I don't think anyone else was, although the crowd in attendance would suggest otherwise.

I don't have many items on my things I'd wish to do list, but seeing this man live and acoustic again is one of them.


Dave Matthews - Butterfly - Farm Aid

Can't Shake It Off

Last weekend at the barbecue party thing, one of the couples that stayed later into the evening ended up knowing my ex, the one I call DD due to his ridiculous drunk dialing episode after he'd ended things.

Now, DD, for all his (many) downfalls and faults as a boyfriend, is also the ex that I shared the most intense and intimate moments of connection with. Moments so pure, I waited for him for nine months while he was overseas when I should have let things go. I wanted those moments to continue. I wanted us to build on them.

Why am I talking about DD now?

I don't really know.

I just know that when his name came up at the party last week, and the three of us talked for a bit about him, I felt sad.

And for whatever reason, this weekend, I missed him terribly.

I had to stop myself, on Saturday evening, from calling him (I don't have his number anymore, but his work number is available online) or emailing him or something, anything, I just wanted to contact him.

I wanted to contact him and to see if we could get back those moments even though I know all the reasons why we probably couldn't and why I shouldn't. But I wanted to. I missed him... no, I missed US, with every bit of my self.

I know we tend to glorify past relationships at times. To gloss over the bad in only remembering the polished gems of this story or that. And I know, deep down inside why DD and I should not be a couple, but I'm aching for those moments. . . those moments that are forever etched into my heart and soul.

And, no, before you ask, it wasn't the sex. The "best sex I've ever had with an ex award" goes to someone else, not to DD, and as one of my exes pointed out to me, the trust you have in your relationship shows in how easily you enjoy sex, and I guess I never really trusted that DD was going to take care of me, never trusted he was looking out for me.

DD was an addict, of this I'm sure, and we broke up not long after I called him on it.

"I listened, I've heard what you said. Now don't ever bring it up again."

And still I would have stayed with him.

Such was the pull.

And I know how dangerous that pull is, but there's a part of me that would throw myself into that void, with him, with one or two others who have crossed my path, Fen perhaps, or the only boy I loved at the end of high school.

I can not understand why I missed DD so intensely this weekend, or why I thought, with almost all of me, that getting back together with him "just to see" was a good idea. But I did.

I can't seem to shake him off, and yet I know better.



Neil Young - Four Strong Winds (Live at Farm Aid 1995)

Thank Goodness It Wasn't Today Yesterday

I had an odd waking up yesterday.

I pretty much always let myself sleep in on weekends, but I still usually set the alarm. It's my attempt to keep my sleep schedule moderately normal, even if, on weekends, I sometimes hit the snooze button for hours on end. (No, really. Hours.)

So yesterday, I woke up thinking how light it was for still being so early. (My alarm's set to go off around 7 on weekends, so I was surprised there was so much light when it was clearly not yet 7.)

I drifted off again and then rolled over and decided to check just what time it was and when I flipped the alarm clock towards me, I was rather shocked to read that it was nearly 10 am.

It took me a minute to make sure it wasn't a week day (should I be at work? am I really late for work? have they fired me already? is today Saturday?) and then I sat up and checked why my alarm hadn't gone off.

Turns out I'd set it for pm instead of am and all I could think about was what would have happened if I'd done that on a working day instead of a weekend. What if it had been *this* morning and I hadn't woken up until 10? Yikes.

Kind of freaked me out and I think I'll be triple-checking my alarm clock settings for the next week or so.

Is That A Thing?

Ladies, tell me this...

I don't think I get PMS, but I think I get DMS.

Like, I get grumpy during the whole shebang.

Or maybe it's just co-incidence that I'm noticing it this time round?

Or, like, is that a thing?

The Story, Part The Rest That Wasn't

So then the cake was cut and the families start heading home and D. disappears again, and my brain alternates between the snarky "man, he just doesn't leave [friend's wife]'s side does he" and "geez, is he helping tidy up too? I wonder if he's really that nice of a guy to help cook and clean?"

After a while we all gather around the fire pit and start a (somewhat illegal, shhhh) fire (ahhhh fire) and I don't even know what we're talking about but by then I'm getting along like gangbusters with some other guy (married and older, but still, totally fun) and when Dorkface comes to join us, there's no open space next to me, so he ends up two seats over, directly out of eyesight.

Shrug.

The music runs out and someone says we should sing and he says he has his guitar (of course he does, he's cute) but instead, he puts on his shuffle and all his music rocks.

So then I'm sitting there loving song after song and half wondering if he's noticing that I'm loving song after song and half wishing I was drunker and sitting next to him so that when the smoke started blowing in my eyes, I could lean away from it and into him and make some kind of comment and we'd just start talking.

Because I think I'd smile if we did.

But I try not to get hung up on that and I just enjoy the evening and at some point I decide it's time to take myself home, as the only sober one left and the only one who's not either staying the night or walking home from there, I head out, and by the time I'm pulling down the street I'm grumpy.

I'm grumpy that Dorkface (which is a milder version of the name I gave him on the drive home that night) didn't make an effort to talk to me. Grumpy that this didn't go the way house parties used to go for me - with me ending up with this guy and that guy wanting to talk and me only wanting to talk to the one. With someone getting my number or someone and I sitting somewhere with just the two of us talking until I realized my friends were desperate to go home but not wanting to interrupt us.

As much as I love the campfire circle thing and yes, my jacket still smells like smoke all these days later, it wasn't conducive to talking or seeing anyone other than the person directly next to you.

I was pretty quiet, Dorkface was pretty quiet, the other hilarious guy was so quiet I actually forgot he was there, and despite the quieter ones of us, the conversation was lively and entertaining.

There were good people there, and I'm glad I got to meet more of my friend's friends.

And even the moment when I realized one couple was good friends with my ex DD only dampened my spirits so much.

So, there you go.

I met another cute, single guy.

I don't think he was interested. (In fact, I'm pretty sure he wasn't.)

It's a bummer. Such is life.

The end.

The Story, Part 2

It was drizzling out and cold, and the front room was full of kids and their parents, and Dorkface and my friend's wife were in the kitchen and in the corner of the kitchen was a table with food and chairs around it and I safely deposited myself over in the corner where I could seem social, but still have some space and distance from all the strangers.

I sat there and chatted with a great guy who, it turns out, is the husband of a gal I worked with years ago and I occasionally threw a line or two at Dorkface, who was helping my friend's wife with the cooking.

"Are you in charge of the oven there D?" I'd say, always the paragon of wit.

And he'd make some comment back, and I'd smile and go back to my beer and my new-found hilarious buddy.

It's not like back in the house party days of my mis-spent youth where everyone just mingled and jibed and you ended up in one space with the people you wanted to be with.

Here, people were watching their kids, or if you were Dorkface, helping with the cooking. Or if you were me, sitting at a table, chatting with some people.

The day eventually cleared up and we headed outside to eat and push children on swings.

Dorkface, who really did nothing wrong to be called "Dorkface", still didn't come and join the general flow of things, but continued to watch over the salmon.

There's a part of me that wonders if he was in a similar situation to me and didn't know very many people and so found something to do that he was comfortable with - helping cook the food with his co-worker.

I wandered by him a couple of times while he was tending the barbeque and made some stupid remark or other but I just couldn't make myself stop and engage him in a conversation.

I don't even know why. It should have been simple.

"So, you work with [friend's wife], eh?"

Easy, yeah?

Except here's what my brain said...

"Well, geez, Victoria, you don't even know what friend's wife does, so what are you going to do, start up a conversation with 'so, you work together, eh?' and then segue into 'what exactly is it that you guys do?' because that'll make you sound stupid. And you can't just go ask some other random, out of the blue question like 'so, where do you live' because that just sounds creepy and weird and he'll probably be like, 'dude, why is this chick hitting on me so obviously?' so it's better to just avoid eye contact when you head back inside."

So that's what I did. Just kind of say some odd thing here or there and smile, so I at least didn't look like the freak my brain was making me feel like.

The Story

So yeah, I was at a social gathering this weekend.

I suppose this is the new reality: going to events where there are kids for the first few hours, and then they clear out and the child-less adults are left. Can you call that a party? I guess so.

There was even cake.

My friend had invited me a long while ago... well, actually, he'd had my friend invite me. I guess I've chickened out of going to barbeque's at his place before (I really am pretty shy) and I think he knew that if I knew my co-worker was going, I'd feel safer going. Which I totally did.

"And [my wife's] cute co-worker Dorkface (names changed to protect the innocent) will be there!"

Which half made me not want to go. So I tried to ignore the fact.

It helped to not talk or think about it, as I was nervous enough about going in the first place, so by the time I showed up at my friend's place, I'd convinced myself that Dorkface wouldn't be cute anyway, he'd be the kind of "cute" your friends tell you about when they're trying to be nice. As in, "he has a nice personality" kind of cute.

But when I walked in, there was a cute guy in the kitchen and my first thought was "oh geez, please let that not be him because if it turns out he's someone's husband I'll be disappointed" but that didn't make sense because my brain immediately after said "I wonder if that is him" and then I went and hid in a corner.

Almost literally.

Let Me Ask You Something...

What's the strangest animal you've ever seen someone take for a walk?

I'm torn, but I think even though seeing someone out with a ferret on a leash was pretty bizarre, for me, seeing someone walk their cat is probably the strangest thing I've seen.

To The Dorkhead From The Barbeque

Dear Sir,
I don't know if you noticed, but you were cute and I am cute and we were the only two single people there and so really it would have been a nifty idea for you to come talk to me at some point.

And if you weren't able to do that, which, somehow it seems you weren't, you could have used the few times I got up the guts/nerve to say something to you to continue the conversation.

I know, in general, I'm to take your behaviour as a sign that you're not interested, and yes, I did get that, thank you very much, but it was frustrating to have my friends telling me to "talk to him!" when I was doing the best I could and that's saying a lot for my dorky self.

Because while I was able to talk to the other people, you were cute and so I couldn't just saunter up and chat with you.

Plus, we both seemed a little wall-flowerish and so it was hard for me to come out of my corner to go talk to you in your space.

But, yeah. I was kind of annoyed for no particularly good reason except that your eyes were smiley and I thought you were cute and god-damnit why isn't anything easy anymore because I feel like if we were both nineteen we'd have been making out by the end of the night or something.

Yours,
Victoria (you know, the one you didn't talk to all night?)

Just Me?

I know I'm a few days behind here (cut me some slack, that was a busy/rough/long week) but I just watched the first few minutes of the latest True Blood episode (first of the season) and even with the "here's what happened last season" catch up? I'm totally lost.

Like seriously, I have no idea what's going on and/or, more importantly, what went on.

Not sure if it was too long since the last season ended or if I've just forgotten everything or the fact that I'm reading the books and they're nowhere near where the show is or what, but I'm so seriously lost.

More Stuff From My Brain

I feel, perhaps, that this has turned into the "all weather and all sleep all the time" blog, but seriously, I woke up yesterday morning and my first thought when my alarm went off was "YAY! IT'S SATURDAY! I CAN SLEEP IN!"

And then, of course, my second thought was "oh no."

Le sigh.

And I've only worn sandals for one week so far this Spring. (That's your weather update, you're welcome.)

I wish I had dating and romance stories for you, but all I can really report on is that I changed the settings on my online dating site so that you can't message me if you're over a certain age. Because while I may not be twenty, I'm also not fifty, and I'm not currently interested in dating men who are fifty. No offense. Ask me again in a few decades.

Speaking of decades, can I tell you how much it weirds me out to think that if I do buy a place and therefore have a mortgage, I'll have it until I'm really very old? And I mean, I suppose it's no different than what I'm currently doing - paying rent every month until I am no longer on this mortal coil, but somehow it weirds me out to think that I'll never actually own the place I "buy."

Like, with my car loan (and yes I still love my car to pieces and am so very glad I bought it), I knew it would take a while, but eventually I'd pay back the loan and the car would be mine for reals.

But I guess it won't be like that with a house/condo/whatever. Which is weird.

Which somehow brings me back to dating and how this looking into the buying of a place has distracted me quite handily from caring about finding a husband/mate/boyfriend/whatever and it's quite nice to not have that thought at the forefront of my mind, even if that means I'm kind of still freaking out whenever I see a listing or consider going to an open house.

I suppose it will all play out in the end.

I haven't been to the gym in a few weeks, and now that I'm out of the habit it feels like a massive undertaking to go. Which I know is on the crazy side, but hey, when did I ever say I was normal?

I've still been exercising (if you happened to glance in my window the other night, you'd have seen me doing made up aerobic moves while watching the Bachelorette) but I do want to get myself back into the routine.

Oh, and have I mentioned the lovely long days and evenings lately? Because yeah. In love with them. I'll take a slightly chillier Spring/Summer for an extra month or two of days this long.

And, one more thing. One of my neighbours had three handsome men visiting her. She's from Austria (or Switzerland, I should know, whoops) and I don't know where they were from but my oh my, that was a nice treat for a few days.

Dreamy smile.

Dream On*

I had another "woke myself up to do something" dream last night.

My face was itchy. Specifically, the side of my nose, and I guess it was itchy enough to wake me up, because I came half awake and reached for the tube of special anti-itch cream the doctor had given me and that I keep next to my bed.

And as I lay there, my hand scrabbling around on the bedside table, my eyes still closed, I became more annoyed that I couldn't find it, it should have been right there where my fingers were reaching, how come I couldn't find it, it's always right there.

And that's when I woke up enough to realize that the doctor hadn't actually given me any special anti-itch cream and that the tube I was so sure was there didn't actually exist. Whoops.

So, there you go. My brain's just trying to help me out really. It's a helpful brain. Just... not right.

*And now it will help by making you sing this all day. Toodles!

Random

So, hey, it's Wednesday, how about that.

And this has been the oddest month of weather, with everything from really cold to fog and then some warm days and rain and it's not been very June like, but then again, I can't really remember the last time weather was well suited to the season it was in and hello is this global warming or just a cycle.

And I don't usually re-read books, at least not within the same year, but I re-read Divergent before reading Insurgent because I started it and couldn't quite remember what had happened (I've read a few similar books since I finished Divergent) and I didn't want to lose the story or be confused. And if you haven't read Divergent, maybe check it out. I saw it on someone's blog and decided to check it out and loved it.

Walking into a bookstore for me is kind of like walking into a crack house or something. I love books.

Speaking of . . . did I ever tell you that post-apocalyptic is the new vampires? Well it is.

And I think stripes are the new black. But not really.

But I'm right about the vampires.

Three more days til the weekend!!!!!

Time, And The Healing Of Wounds

This weekend marks a year since my Dad's open heart surgery.

I'm taking my parents out on Saturday to celebrate, both how much healthier he is but also what we all went through in the hours, days and months after his surgery.

But let me tell you, the closer I get to the actual day. . . well, I think the easiest way to put what I'm going through is to say I'm having "flashbacks", even though I'm sure that's not the proper term.

I keep seeing the images in my head from that day and the next, and keep remembering how he looked and what we thought and how just him making it through the surgery wasn't a guarantee of anything, didn't mean he'd make it through the next days and man oh man it was awful.

I'm surprised at the intensity of feelings I still have, thinking about it, one year later, but I suppose that's what anniversaries do; remind you, bring it all back for a while, for better or worse.

I want to be happy, I want to celebrate all the joy and wonder at how much healthier Dad is since last year but I also just want to sit and cry over how awful it was and how we kind of only barely made it through.

I looked over a couple of posts from last year and I said in one of them that I was a different person, and I am. I am, a year later, stronger, and somehow more collected, if that even makes sense.

I've grown a lot this year, and perhaps that's the positive side of trauma. . . that if you choose to grow from it, you'll have at least gotten something out of the situation, as difficult as it may have been.

I'm endlessly grateful that I was able to go to a wonderful psychologist before, during, and for a good while after, and I would recommend that to anyone; get help. Good help. It won't be easy, but it will work, it will help you through.

I think the portion I try to ignore is that the repair that was done on my Dad's heart seems to have a limited functional life-span, and I suppose this is the choice that's made with an older heart patient. He may out live the repair, and I don't know what that would mean, or he may not, and I suppose I know what that would mean.

And perhaps that's what I've dealt with the most since last year; my parents are mortal, and are not going to be here for ever, and while that's not ok, I will find a way to be ok, and I know their love for me and my love for them will be with me forever.

Life's a funny thing, and a year ago this weekend, my Dad kept hold of his, and I'm so very thankful for that.

Here's to many happy returns of this anniversary.

Many.