All I Want Post-Christmas Is...

Okay, so it's official. We are loft-owners.

After years of dreaming about having my own place (or our own place, once Dave was in the picture), and a year and a half of hardcore skimping, debt reduction, and saving, we finally got it together. It's been total torture waiting for the whole thing to be real, but this afternoon it turned from foggy fantasy to black-and-white life-owing.

So! Now comes the good part. The home-making! The following is my list of home necessities:

(1) Painting. I've been visiting the Benjamin Moore site like it's keeping me alive. I want to pick my colours for every room and hire some painters. Since we get in there on March 23rd, but don't have to move 'til the 31st, we have a week to get it all prettied up. Dave is somewhat hesitant on this one, as he thinks we should live there and feel out what it should look like first, but I'm pushing for it.

(2) Bedroom set. When we got married, my beloved aunt and uncle gave us the gift of a new bed. If by new bed, I mean cash to cover a new bed. Needless to say, that chunk of change was better used elsewhere at the time and we never got the cozy boudoir of which I dreamed. Now? Oh, hell yeah.

(3) Office stuff. We took a small apartment to save money as part of the scrimp and save strategy. Dave has made the corner of our wee bedroom his office. He works from home. This has been majorly harsh for him. At the new place, he has a good sized bedroom to turn into his office. He shall get whatever his heart so desires for his hideous sacrifice. As someone who has worked from home in the past, I can't believe he's been able to handle it for this long.

(4) Front bench. When people walk in, we want a place for them to sit their things down. I don't know what it will look like, but I will find it.

(5) Living room mirrors. The people who live there now had 'em. I loved 'em. I want 'em.

(6) Above-range microwave. Okay, this isn't exactly a necessity. But I really, really love those babies, and I'm going to get one. Maybe not immediately, but within a few months.

(7) Bosu ball. Okay, this isn't house-related, but I really freakin' want one.

Um, I think that's it. I made this list last weekend and thus far, I've bought a chocolate coloured curtain for the ensuite bathroom and some stainless steel salt and pepper shakers. It's going to be just way too much fun.

Kids Scare Me

So today was my adorable niece's birthday party. And what a party it was. I think that maybe I just don't get the whole parenthood thing.

So we arrive at 11AM at the Gymboree party zone. First of all, I have to take off my boots, and my feet are instantly cold. This disturbs me. I have to leave my jacket hanging on a rack with hooks at children's height. This makes me suspicious. We're quickly escorted to a room of small slides and barrels and tubes and bubbles. I'm looking around suspiciously, and next thing I know, this crazed lady start singing all her thoughts. "1-2-3, play a game with me! Let's all play, it's your birthday today!" My ovaries aren't twitching a single iota (as women with maternal urges often joke). My stomach is clenched in the most hideous zone of discomfort.

There are yuppie type parents and kids in clothes that probably cost more than mine. But the truly weird part? Everyone is just so... happy? It feels fake and creepy and cult-ish. "Row, row, row your boat!" The parents grin at each other as they swoosh some bizarro parachute up and down with the kids under it. "Skinamarinky-dinky-dink!" The children totter about as they're pushed to beat on the rubber tube while music plays -- though not to the beat. "I went to the store to buy a bike!" Everyone oohs and aahs as children smoosh cheesies into their soft skin. "The wheels on the bus go round-and-round!" We are the only two people there without children of our own -- other than the children. "Let's all sing along-along! Let's all sing alonnnnng!"

I am not singing.

I am sitting on a tiny bench with my arms crossed. I am feeling anxious and uncomfortable and just want to get away from the creepiness and singing and weird activities. I am hiding in the corner during lunch. I am avoiding the parents with their incessant cooing and their endless talk about their kids. I am wondering why they all ask me the same question -- "So how was your holiday?" -- and then sort of mentally exit the conversation halfway through my response.
I am wanting to leave and get the hell back to my real life.

And I am wondering how the hell I will ever, ever be a parent.

I don't know about kids. I totally love hanging out with them one-on-one for specific time periods, but I am not drawn at all to this cult of mommyhood. I don't like the idea of hanging out exclusively with other parents and finding children to be my most interesting conversational topic and listening to the Wiggles and all that crazy stuff. I know that not everyone does this -- and, to be fair, my in-laws and few friends with children are great examples of normalcy when they're not around other parents; they're relaxed and laid back. However, this doesn't make the possibility any less likely, nor any less frightening. And my brother-in-law made a joke this weekend about how we say right now that we plan to live in a condo for five years, but just wait 'til I pop out a kid. I responded with a dry "Um, that sure won't be happening in the next five years." His reaction? "You don't think you'll have a kid in the next five years? How old are you, anyway?" I laughed it off. Besides, I get this kind of thing a lot from people with kids. (They generally think I'm missing out on life.) And, yes, I am pushing 30.

I just wouldn't be that parent. I wouldn't be able to handle bad music and fakery and competition and mommies, and I wouldn't be able to abandon my old life. I would want to make a newborn listen to real music. I would probably be snobby about hanging out with mommy cults. I would want to avoid group stuff at all costs and make the kid a cool part of my life instead of its star. Is that unfair to be that wrong kind of parent to a kid? Cripes.

The idea of never having a kid (and a is the key word -- there would never be more than that) seems a little sad to me, but the idea of actually doing it? I fear it's not for the best. What if that maternal thing that everybody else seems to have just never kicks in? How am I supposed to know what to do, or when to do it, or whether I should just trust my gut and stick with life as regularly scheduled?

So It's Eight Days Later...

And we bought a place. It's a conditional offer, they accepted it tonight. Should be official by Monday. Should be official by Monday?

I am dying. Dying!

I am so excited, I am calm. I feel jittery and quiet and it's terrifying to spend that much money and it's thrilling to see your dollars finally turning into equity.

And the place is lovely and dreamy and central. It's a loft and it's spacious -- two good sized bedrooms, two great bathrooms, and a big living room. Beautiful kitchen, upgrades galore, gym, billiards room, all that good stuff. You know what sold me, though? The built-in bookcases. There is even a ladder. I will be living in a lovely library. And the washer and dryer are super capacity. And there are sensor lights! And the closets all have built in shelving and drawer systems. It's crazy. And it will be all ours on March 23.

I called my sister right after we signed the papers. She was exuberant. I was serene. I just can't get my head around it.

It's not that it happened so fast -- we've been saving our asses off since moving to Toronto so we'd have a good chunk of down payment. It's that once we had the dollars in place, we got straight to business. It just feels like it happened so quickly. And it doesn't feel real. It's kind of unbelievable.

But I know it's not, really. People everywhere do this every single day. It's just... we haven't done it before and if you'd told either of us a year and a half ago, when we were in Halifax, that we'd be buying something like this in only eighteen months, we never, ever would have believed you. Moving to this city has really made everything kick ass -- it may be the dastardly centre of the universe to my east coast self, but to my future homeowner parts, it's a freaking dream.

Goddamn. I guess the countdown begins here.

(ETA: I removed the pictures for now. I guess I should wait 'til Monday when it's all official. Also please note that it's 6:30 on Friday morning, I totally woke up at 6 with all the excitement and haven't been able to get back to sleep. Losah!)

The Waiting Game

I am a woman obsessed.

We met a potential real estate agent on the weekend. She was cool and super nice and we instantly knew that she'd be a good match. She specializes in the area we're searching in, and the type of property we're seeking. In any case, she sends us a few properties to look at every day. We've seen some almost-exactly-right places thus far, but no match worth going to see since the weekend (Perfect But in a Totally Sketchy Neighbourhood).

In any case, even though we are still on the hunt, I feel like moving day is just around the corner. I've taken to this cleaning spree thing like a duck to water. In the last bunch of days, I've scrubbed, swept, pledged, mopped, cometed, decluttered, and re-organized like it was going out of style. I am just beyond psyched about getting the heck out of here and having a place. A place where I can do laundry every day if I want. A place where our equipment would be in closets or lockers instead of our living room. A place where the bedroom and the living room are separated by more than French doors. A place where the office has its own room. A place where the kitchen doesn't take over the bulk of the house. A place that's ours.

I'm on a countdown, man, and the waiting is going to put me out of my mind.

Smell Ya Later, 2005

Alright, I could just see you later. You weren't so bad. In fact, you were pretty darn nice to me -- moving to finally start to feel like a grown-up, letting me start grad school, meeting my first niece, really getting down with my job. Not so bad. And thus I bring you: This Year in Review.

Dee-doo-doo-dee-dee-doo-doo-dee-dee-doooo-doooo-deeeeet-dooooot. (A la This Week in God.)

January 2005:

• New Year's Eve in Toronto with the boy, his dear friend, and my coworker who calls me because her much-older man broke up with her. A night of many eyeliner reapplications and pitchers of beer ensues.
• Alex is born! I'm scared to hold her, but I think she's damn cool.
• I have some lame obsession with ponchos.

February 2005:

• I plan an event in Mexico for work and Dave and I get to go care of the company.
• I continue with the stupid poncho obsession.
• I see the Mexico pictures upon getting home and go obsesso style with WW.
• I get to go to my first welcome-to-grad-school initiation thing and feel thrilled and lucky.

March 2005:

• After the Mexico thing ends, I get really frustrated with work.
• The poncho obsession is dead.

April 2005:

• I get a surprise promotion at work with small bonus -- there are challenges left.
• I start school!

May 2005:

• School is nuts!
• Work is nuts!
• I love it and never want to be bored again.

June 2005:

• I get a fun raise.
• I barely have time to think about how much it rules.

July 2005:

• We go to the cottage!
• My mom and dad come to visit and love the city, pleasing me endlessly.

August 2005:

• I miss my final exam when a plane crashes puts me at a standstill on the 401, and don't get to rewrite for three whole weeks.
• We go to Halifax for ten days. It rules, and how. We see everyone and have an absolutely killer time.
• Ruby Foo and OMM get hitched! They have the nicest wedding evah, and I get sixties hair for the occasion.

September 2005:

• Second semester begins. I find myself loving statistics for the first time ever. My professor is a flipping saint.
• I am now a first-time manager.
• I think this is when I went to San Diego? The stopover at the creepy Atlanta airport is totally bizarre, but it's otherwise dreamy.

October 2005:

• My sister comes to visit! We have drinks, gossip, eat bad Chinese, and trek up to the cottage for Thanksgiving leftovers.
• I hire the first member of my new account team! She is a star.

November 2005:

• I visit New York City for work for the first time -- though it's fun, I am a little let down due to way over-the-top expectations.
• I visit Dallas for work for the first time -- though it's not terribly exciting, I actually have a spectacular time with my coworkers!
• I have a fantastic 28th birthday and am ever-so-thrilled with where I've come thus far in life.

December 2005:

• I hire two people in a row for a position someone has majorly fucked up and been fired over -- they both quit (one within ten hours, one after four days). I hire a third person who stays and works hard for the money.
• I am charmed by my husband's spending more time teaching me on the bunny hill than boarding himself when we go to Tremblant (aw).
• I spend the holidays in the sun but kind of can't wait for next year with my family.

And what are my resolutions?

1. Start looking for a condo/loft of our own as soon as we get back home. I've already stalked down a real estate agent, we're meeting her mid-month as soon as we get all our ducks in a row.
2. Learn to cook -- and seriously do it this time. Not just for a few weeks, like forever.

How I Spent My Christmas Vacation (And the Weeks Preceding It)

Gads, has it really been two weeks? Okay, here's a quick rundown of what happened since I posted last:

(1) Studied for then wrote exams. Macro and stats. Two classes, same professor. Nearly effing knocked his head off after the first, wanted to kiss him after the second. Made it through both alive.

(2) Went to Tremblant. Left at midnight to arrive at 7AM. Actually arrived at 3PM due to weather issues. Stayed at lodge on bottom of hill. Despite strike, managed to learn to snowboard on the bunny hill. Looked damn adorable in Burton gear. Ate delicious lamb and had creme brulee for the first time. Stopped using people's names, right hand, and numbers all at once. Enjoyed lots of beverages. Fell even more. Hands, knees, and jaw terribly bruised. All worth it.

(3) Finished up insane amount of pre-vacation work in hopes that nobody would be burdened during holidays. Miraculously completed commercial that should've taken three weeks in just over seven days. Removed the word Olympic from more phrases than seemed possible. Crashed into a non-work frenzy. Gossiped with the receptionist.

(4) Went to work holiday party. Gambled on the ponies. Came up even. Ate salmon and pate. Enjoyed more drinks.

(5) Flew to Montreal for a night. Ate incredible sushi at astonishingly empty restaurant. Went to bed early.

(6) Hit the airways for Barbados. Landed in jeans and a sweater, nearly passed out within fifteen seconds. Saw how the proverbial other half live. Hung out with sister-in-law's family. Dropped jaw at grocery prices. Ate way too much heavenly food. Understood the meaning of chichi while sadly dressed in Gap shorts and Tshirt. Cracked up at adorable niece. Slept in a bedroom whose French doors should never be shut. Fell in love with Banks Beer and rom-ponch (nutmeg!). Took too many self-portraits (note: see below for exhibit A). Ate heaviest sweet bread of all time. Learned what jug-jug was. Went wild for fan-say boats (note: see above view from patio for prime reason). Read a bunch of books. Saw an incredible number of British mummies in bikinis with flat stomachs and Chanel sunglasses. Befriended both locals and fellow visitors. Theoretically high-fived voice on radio saying parents should search kids' rooms. Told boss I would be happy to run international office (yes, in jest -- for now). Babysat. Swam. Snorkelled. Kayaked. Surely gained ten pounds. Vowed to never do White Christmas again.

And there's still a week to go. Sometimes, a girl just can't really complain.

He's a Machine

A machine freak, that is.

I love a boy who's a total nut for stuff. Gadgets, doodads, toys. He loves them all with the fire of a thousand suns. Every time he gets into a new hobby, I find myself wondering if it's the subject he loves or the stuff related to it. In the past few years, I've witnessed the madness for:

(1) Music. He's played in bands forever (and even once toured with The Inbreds -- if you're a Canadian rock and roll kid, you'll know why I always giggle when my nineteen year old self thinks about this). He's had a gajillion guitars, four-tracks, pedals, mics, and amps. He bought a bass. He bought a drum kit. He took the drums apart and deskinned them. He had a guitar body that he designed built so he could buy all custom parts and make his own guitar. He's even bought guitars for friends so he could be in charge of renovating them from garbage to perfection. I don't even know how many pieces of musical equipment are in our house right now, as they're all over the place. He now whispers here and there about wanting an electronic drum kit for practice. I pretend I can't hear.

(2) Golf. He's golfed with his dad since he was a teenager. I don't even know how many sets of clubs he's had, but in our three years of marriage, he's on his fifth. He'll buy a set, take them apart, fix them up, then give them away or sell them or trade them in for his new set. I even apparently have my own set of clubs -- an old set of his, you would think, but no... he really bought them to fix them up for me, who's golfed all of once in her life. Right.

(3) Biking. There's no doubt that he's been biking since childhood -- he was that kid who was riding his bike off makeshift ramps in the early 80s. He had a great BMX when we first got together and used to do tricks around our little apartment, but then decided he was too old for BMXing and sold it. A few years later, we're on a nice summer walk, step into a riding shop, and end up home with a top of the line mountain bike. And everything that had to be bought with it. The bell, the lights, the good lock, the thing that holds stuff... he couldn't have been happier.

(4) Gaming. Started with a computer. Moved to a Playstation. Now it's an XBox. There was even a skateboarding game involved -- he claimed that it was so I could dress a character up in a cute outfit and play along. I claimed it was so he wouldn't feel like he was a nerd on his own.

(5) Snowboarding. This is still fresh, but he was out walking downtown one day and went into the snowboard shop. He saw a familiar board on the wall. He asked the guy if it was for sale, and the guy said, "Dude, that's for show. It's an antique!" It was the model he'd started on way back in the day. Never one to give up the dream, he learned everything he possibly could about the latest and greatest in boarding that he's missed over the last ten years and bought a crapload of gear for both himself and me. Again, do I board? No. But I am charmed to be included in the obsession.

(6) Technology. The obsession of all obsessions, this crazy love involves everything related to computers, MP3 players, monitors, televisions, printers, PDAs, cell phones, and all other make-my-life-easier gadgetry. The man just can't get enough. In our house (and keep in mind that there are two of us), we have his main computer, his rendering computer, the computer attached to the TV that has music on it, and the laptop (he claims to need all of these things for business). We have a huge TV, speakers all over the freakin' place (they have to be set up just so, you see), an upconversion DVD player, and the PVR. If it's new and it's cool? I'm going to be hearing about those two facts until there's one in our very wee apartment.



And tonight, I am sitting her blogging away while my boytoy gets his jollies from the latest and greatest gadget in his little marketplace. A DVD duplication machine. Okay, this one really was for work. But it's hilariously huge (picture a sideways microwave from the 80s) and I feel like I'm watching How It's Made when it's running. It's like a little robot, pulling DVDs from this enormous naked stack into its guts, spitting it out, moving it with the arm of a grabby teenaged boy, swallowing it again, then grabbing and dropping it into the dressed stack. Hilarious. And the kid is in heaven, examining and testing like a bloody machine.

But, um, I think we need a bigger place.

Sensitivity Training

So I decided to go to the dentist a few months ago. I had a dream of whitening these otherwise dreamy teeth (thank you, braces) so that there would be no turning back. The dentist was actually insistent that (a) laser whitening was "bullshit", (b) professional whitening should be a last resort, and (c) Crest White Strips were great and are a cost-effective alternative that generally works pretty much as well as the pro treatments for most people. However, she also discovered my extreme level of dental sensitivity. She recommended a course of action: use at least one entire tube of Sensodyne F (and continue using it forever), then give the strips another shot before booking an appointment for the pricey whitening treatment. So after finishing the tube of paste a week ago, I started trying to get up the nerve to do it again.

Well, I got up the nerve. And now the nerves of my teeth want me dead. No, the pain isn't life-threatening, but it sure seems like a lot to go through just to pretty up. I'm only on day two of seven, and I've only done one of today's two treatments. That's only 3/14 of the way through! I have to do one more today and am avoiding it like the bloody plague. It's just so... gads, gads, gads, I have to press on them to stop the ouchness. I have to stop thinking about it. I have to train myself to stop listening to these icky signals. I desperately want to get through three days of this crap so that I can start seeing results and then maybe switch to just one treatment a day, but I don't know if I have the will power.

A Little Sunshine

I don't know what happened today, but I clearly took a little stop on my trip towards Nervous Breakdown Alley and decided to turn back to Good Times Ville. There's still a crapload of work to be done and lord only knows what madness will ensue as I try every trick in my book to perfect this little world I keep trying to make myself, but whatever happened, I am back to me.

I had the best time at class tonight. I have been totally stressed over school, as the crazy-busy with work has been causing me to be consistently late or in another country. Har. In any case, tonight we had a big exchange rate discussion, chatting about whether we should be fixing ours to the US. Clearly, there are benefits to this, most of which come from the fact that the US is our top trade partner, to the tune of 80+%. And, according to today's discussion, at some optimal point, the costs of having a fixed exchange rate are outweighed by the benefits. In the opinion of our professor (and he is truly the most delightful of professors I've encountered in grad school this far -- the joy and excitement he finds in statistics has made me finally really get it), we're past that point. I, on the other hand, believe it's totally wacko to fix our exchange rate and thus make our own monetary policy makers utterly impotent. We lose all power to control our own destiny -- because, much as we're loathe to admit it, money makes the world go 'round, and inflation and interest rates affect every single one of us.

That said, I am generally a big fan of the market and its mechanisms -- I think it's cool as hell how we generally move to equilibrium where things are pretty much optimal for consumers and buyers alike -- but I don't believe that it is perfect. All social issues aside (and, believe me, I hardly take these lightsly, but it's too much for one conversation with people who all think politically differently), we can surely all agree that anti-trust issues alone are a perfect example of why the government sometimes needs to intervene. Look at monopolies and collusion and all those little market-imperfections that allow specific companies' profits to be maximized but don't allow the consumer to experience optimal efficiency. It's just a fact -- while it's totally dreamy and, as a rule, allows profits to consistently to be maximized, is it always forward-thinking?

For example -- if we are to believe that we're indeed in the position where my professor (and a certain Canadian Nobel Prize winner) says we are, and the benefits to fixed exchange are surpassing the risks, will we always be in that position? This situation may maximize our national profits for the time being -- and clearly, it does, or businesses would be trading with other countries -- but what about in twenty years? We've fixed our rates in the past, only to have to break off when our political differences caused major economic differences (see Vietnam for details) and suffer the consequences of getting back on our own. We've spent the last crapload of years getting through the tough times of managing monetary policy to bring our zero-inflation dream to life in the long term, you're saying that now we're going to just give up our controls because the US happens to be our top trading partner? To be sure, it's been that way for a long time -- but no-no-no-nothing lasts forever.

Theoretically, having one trading partner take up four fifths of our business is risky to begin with -- and that's something we need to address for the long-term implications. Perhaps the dollars would dictate that, at this time, the cost of encouraging economic integration with the US is exorbitant and unnecessary. After all, if it's more efficient to trade with others in the long run, won't that happen anyway? Doesn't the market fix itself? Sure. But don't we want to temper the blow of that transition? Isn't intervention worth it if, in the long run, it causes economic positives by reducing the economic negatives? And isn't this why we have to care about politics? Because there are so many bloody crazy questions and no one really knows the answer but it's so insane to imagine that we might figure it out or make it better?

So clearly, I got into a little frenzy of curiosity and begin with the question-asking, and next thing I know, we're having the most fun conversation! Anyway, I left and I still had a million questions in my head. And the fun just keeps on coming.

Did I Mention...?

So this week has been nuts. Did I mention that last week, my I hired a customer service person and she left the job after ten hours? Right. It was too crazy. So I hired another one, and she made it through the whole week 'til today at around noon.

Between the loss of another customer service person, the firing, the client-facing short-staffedness already caused by the fact that I need a new account person, and the gazillion things that my girl-who-is-fired mixed up before getting the old heave-ho, I am losing my effing mind. Actually, I was losing my effing mind. Did I mention that I came home at 8-ish, vented to Dave for fifteen minutes, chatted with my sister on ICQ, then I had a beer with frozen pizza and watched PVRed TV? This worked for me.

I didn't get to the passport office this week. I have vowed that I will go on Monday. It's an appointment. (Did I mention that I have a hair appointment on Saturday and a doctor's appointment on the 12th?) I need it to go to Barbados. (Did I mention I have two weeks there now?)

On the other downside, I was working so late every day that I didn't get to help my group much on this stats project we're doing, so I'm now responsible for making the presentation spectacular and, well, presenting. Did I mention that I have to work on the weekend to make sure everything is ready for invoicing the client by end of day Wednesday? I have to go to school for a meeting tomorrow morning, then get my hair cut and blondified at 11:30, then go to work. I guess I'll do the presentation stuff when I'm at home.

Did I mention that I was supposed to do my Christmas shopping this week because I have that presentation next week, then maybe Dallas, then exams, then Montreal, then last-week-before-vacation, then Barbados? I didn't go yet. I was thinking maybe I could go on Sunday if I got most everything else done on Saturday...

Holy crap, I am babbling. Did I mention that I'm exhausted?