All Boats Have Spiders, But ESPECIALLY THAT ONE.

When I was an early teen, I had a fairly healthy fear of spiders built up. We've seen evidence of this in previous posts, but this story is one of the instances that morphed my fear into a downright paranoia. It will also explain why people saying "But THIS spider is just a baby" sends me into a rage. Our cottage had a rowboat, a canoe, and a small one-person sailboat that my dad would take out.

The Girl Needs Her Hair Ties. Also, I Am 'The Girl'.

My hair is growing. It's always growing, like everyone elses, but mine is growing ESPECIALLY fast. Like rocket ship hair. Or maybe those weird vines from Jumanji. So I started buying hair elastics like there was going to be a hair elastic famine and I was going to be that person whose hair spends the first day of the famine trying to EAT MY FACE and makes off with one of my eyeballs and part of my nose.

Do Not Wack And Unwrap When Angry

I wasn't having the greatest day. In fact, I just received a phone call that made me rise out of my seat, cleanching my fists and growling my one coworkers name with a murderous gleam in my eye. Caileigh tried to distract me and make me feel better by offering me some of her chocolate orange.

"You need to WACK AND UNWRAP THESE!", I cried.

The Sweet Smell of Christmas Lights

It's December and I am filled with the spirit of Christmas! Some years it whips by me in a frenzy and I miss most of the best activities, but this year I am going after it like a ferocious red and green striped tiger. Those totally exist.

My coworkers have been really backing me up, we wrapped all of our cubicles and office doors in wrapping paper. Time consuming and resulting in hours of overtime that I absolutely brought upon myself -- but so worth it.

We're In The Elevator - Break It Down!

When I got in the elevator the other day I surprised someone in the middle of a dance move! He looked embarrassed but I was in love with the idea of dancing in the elevator when you are on it by yourself. Or with coworkers. Or the CEO. Okay, maybe if it's the CEO, restrain yourself. But otherwise, why spend your time standing there and being boring? Plus elevators can have some really great mirror effects going on that make even the most mundane dancing seem awesome.

I Never Mean For Things To Go Up In Flames

Growing up I was a terrible cook. I was impatient with instructions, impatient with waiting, impatient with mixing things properly. I wanted to cook everything at once, on the highest heat and without reading directions so that I could eat faster. That hasn't really changed.

But over time I have learned to make the things that I love and do them well, as long as I can avoid rushing. With some painful exceptions.

Shrimp Hat Wedding? Count Me In!

I had dinner with my friend Hitoko a week or two ago. She is one of my favourite people because her laugh is so outrageously, bawdily contagious and she claims to be a "medium sized woman" even though she is tiny. She also indulged me the year we worked together where I only spoke in acronyms. Maybe because she was the only one who could understand them. (Don't worry, those days stopped when I was no longer being exposed to hat lacquer. That stuff is TOXIC.).

Writer's Block. It's Like Being Pummeled to Death With Tangerines.

I haven't posted. Probably some of you haven't noticed but some of you have. I have noticed. Admittedly, I just moved and I spent the week unpacking boxes feeling like the first time I had an iced capp from Tim Horton's when I was 15. Which is to say: BOUNCING THROUGH THE CEILING. I've also stopped leaving the apartment except for situations where I run out of food or am bribed. Because my apartment is AMAZING.

How Not To Wake Up On Moving Day

Do not wake up on moving day in a complete panic. Not that this is new news to me. I have woken up in panics before and it never ends well. But this time I was so sure I would wake up calm, trot over to Crema for a delicious Americano and sail back to my apartment ready to take on the day. Ha!

Instead my first thought as I opened my eyes was: "REMEMBER THAT TIME THAT YOU HAD THAT INCIDENT WITH THE CRISPY CHINESE NOODLES? You probably never got them all and when someone moves your bed they are going to find them AND JUDGE YOU!!!"

Most Futile Tennis Lessons Possible

When I was a pre-teen, my parents decided they would spring for tennis lessons for my sister and I. I remember having little-to-no interest in this, but they were near our house and I was reaching an "epic fail" level of athleticism so I succumbed to the pressure. The worst way I can possibly imagine to teach tennis to an athletic failure would be to--get this-- run laps every time they fail to hit the ball.