swollen expectations

I started working out in earnest this week, and it seems that I have forgotten what happens when you do a full workout after not really doing any kind of workout for a long time. Fear not, for my muscles are reminding me in such a way that I won’t forget for at least a couple weeks. I am sore, sore, sore. Everything kinda hurts (I was going to say throbs, but I’m sure I’d get priior talking about the latest purple helmet fashion), and I’m trying to convince myself that it’s a good thing.

I thought it was a moderate start… actually, I’m sure it was. Unfortunately, when you have muscles with the consistency of limp noodles, and a brain that is semi-convinced that those noodles are really just a small step away from bands of iron, bad things happen a day and a half later. I did everything right and included stretching and ice baths (which I find are amazing for speeding recovery) after working out, but it’s still the wonderful rediscovery of just how out of shape I am.

I remember this from last time (hence the use of the word “rediscovery”), and by my count I’ve got two weeks of suckage to endure. The key is to keep at it and to attempt to stay as loose as Paris Hilton around a camera. I think I can do that. The worst part is I had finally started sleeping well again, and that went out the window with my usual thrashing making me keenly aware of which muscle groups hurt more than the others.

And so it goes. Yay for Advil!

must have missed the memo

Remember the special envelopes that used to be included with Christmas cards sold here in Canada? You know, the ones with the 6 boxes on the bottom line for the postal code, all by itself? Those things have, until this point, led me to believe that leaving the postal code all lonely on the bottom line is the cardinal rule of addressing mail in Canada. I always figured it was done this way because of magical mail sorters, and so I went along with it despite preferring the method popular in the US.

After seeing most of the bills I get using the method I’ve grown accustomed to in the US, I got a little curious what the “right” way is. Turns out that the way I preferred it, and the way Canadian businesses are sending it (which, really, should have been my first clue) is actually the correct way, after all. Damn you, Christmas Card memories messing with my head. I’ve also noticed that most mail from friends and family uses the “wrong” way of addressing an envelope, so I’m not the only brainwashed one.

Oh, and kudos to Canada Post for explaining how to address mail so well, I’m impressed (seriously).

—

Completely useless update – the sample address given on all the envelopes of Canada Post’s addressing information is a street that’s about two blocks away from where I grew up. It was also part of my paper route for the long-defunct Ottawa Journal (where the Journal Towers buildings get their name), which was heads and tails above the Ottawa Citizen. So endeth the useless trivia.

wrong number

* ring ring *

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this the Mexican Embassy?”

“No ma’am, it’s not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

*pause* “Is it because I’m using English?”

“No ma’am, it’s because this is my home, not the Mexican Embassy.”

*click*

I love it when people phone here and ask if I’m sure they’ve dialed the wrong number. My number is one digit off an oft-called establishment here in town, so I get a _lot_ of these calls. (no, it’s not the Mexican Embassy, but that was who the lady asked for about 3 minutes ago, and the above is an actual transcript) Do the people who are supposed to take these calls dupe their callers enough that there’s a general lack of trust, or is it simply that the caller can’t believe they made a mistake dialing, so it must be me who’s mistaken? I also love the hang-up with nary a “sorry to bug ya”.

Idjits.

easter in cranford

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It’s not quite Christmas in Hollis – in fact it was nothing like that – but it was damn good. I hopped on a plane last weekend to take in the long weekend with Walt, Lee, Zoe, and Jake. I flew Mapleflot and it was a surprisingly good trip both ways; it’s almost like they’re starting to understand that their customers aren’t packing crates. The new touch-sceen AV systems on the Embraers are awesome, and my favourite bit was the warning screen telling me that the show I chose contained scenes of airliners crashing and may upset me. Excellent programming choices for the aviophobes out there. 🙂

There was zero shyness from Zoe this time around, and the welcome smile, run, and hug at Newark was a great way to start a holiday. Walt showed his impresive navigation skills through the god-awful NJ traffic by finding the FedEx depot despite taking the wrong exit. Even Zoe was impressed, and kept the editorial comments on how the roadways were similar to a parking lot and she had had quite enough thank you so let’s go home now to a minimum. The evening was pretty laid back, with some excellent home-made pizza, some beer, and maybe some wine. Lee was sick, but was a trooper and went on the offensive in a valiant attempt to drown the bug she had in alcohol (we’re not sure who drowned, so we’ll call it a draw).

Saturday was a trip to home despot to pick up roofing shingles for the moss-embank… err… garage. I’ve never been in a Home Depot where there are Securitas personnel checking to make sure what’s in your basket is paid for, despite the fact that you paid for it two feet away from them. After it was determined that Walt wasn’t hiding an extra package of shingles in his jockey shorts, we were permitted to pass. The late morning and afternoon was spent taking in some Fresh Mex brunch and a bit of shopping. I was mildly disturbed by the fact that the only stores I wanted to go into were Coach and Victoria’s Secret, but I got over it. Dinner was Chinese Food, which was most excellent.

I missed the Easter egg hunt, but awoke in time to see Zoe cracking them open and retrieving the booty within. The empty shells were passed onto Jake, who happily attempted to fit each and every one into his mouth. Also, good to know, crinkly wrapping paper keeps babies occupied for forty-five minutes or more. Lee prepared an awesome brunch, and one of Walt’s colleagues joined us for the feast, a nice walk, sticky ball throwing, and entertaining Zoe.

At some point we also watched Walk the Line, which was a pleasant surprise. I say some point, because already I can’t remember what night we watched it on. I know it wasn’t Friday, but that’s about it.

All in all, a terrific weekend, and it only took me three days to recover 🙂 More pics are here.

Oh… also, don’t take the chocolate easter egg you had stuck in your ear and put it in your pocket. Bad idea. Trust me.

game on!

The Needham boys always worried that their sister was adopted. She was very politically correct, declaring in the middle of dinner how inappropriate our conduct was, and then leaving (more food for us). She also didn’t swear a whole lot.

Thankfully, over the years, those fears have been put to rest. My sister knows how to wield the word “fuck” (and many others) with considerable skill, and is no where near as understanding now when people are driving her batshit for whatever reason. Today I got confirmation that she also likes going against the grain when people assume she’ll go with it.

As y’all may be aware, the playoffs start today. Calgary is a huge hockey town. My sister is in Calgary. She’s a transplant. Here’s her story:

Today is Calgary Flames Day at Kieran’s daycare. The kids were encouraged to dress in Flames apparel, or at least red and white.

We sent Kieran to “school” in his little Sens jersey (thanks, Grandad and Mamie!).

GO SENS GO!!!!!!

I know people in Calgary. They are huge Flames fans. Naturally, I forwarded my sister’s email to them. Within ten minutes, Ev responded:

One more time:

It’s the “C of Red.”

Wearing white doesn’t count. How can you tell if what you’re wearing is appropriate? Look at your shirt. If it’s red, it’s okay. If it’s not, it isn’t. For example, a white shirt isn’t okay, because it’s not red.

A little Q & A to set things straight:

Q: Is my Flames home jersey appropriate in the C of Red?
A: Yes, because it’s red.

Q: Is my classic Flames home white jersey appropriate?
A: No, because it’s not red.

Q: But my game-worn black snotty moosehead jersey that I paid $400 for is okay, right?
A: Not red.

Q: Would it be better to go down to Value Village and buy a $8 knocked off Flames t-shirt?
A: Only if it’s a red tshirt.

Q: What other colour shirts would be appropriate?
A: All of the red ones.

Q: Does a wifebeater with a large spaghetti stain count?
A: Yes, although it would be helped by wearing red pants. With the crotch cut out. On your head.

Q: Would a Carolina Hurricanes jersey be appropriate in the Saddledome?
A: Their home jersey is, because it’s red. Unless we’re playing the Hurricanes in SCF, during which it is is appropriate to wear the road white jersey, and let the assembled Flames fans turn it red for you. Best just to avoid the Red Wings jerseys from the get-go.

Q: The C on my road white jersey is red. Is that enough?
A: It is, if you supplement the rest with a red marker.

Stupid daycare.

Ottawa doesn’t have a prayer.

If there was ever any doubt, that doubt has now evaporated.

It’s on.

Welcome to the playoffs.

basket lunch

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I decided to pass on the whole “eat” thing at lunch, and headed over to Jacques Cartier Park for a round of disc golf instead. The water was pretty high along the river, so hole #1 was underwater and unplayable after the drive. The rest of the course is pretty dry, and it was an awesome way to spend my lunch hour. I will remember to use some sunscreen next time, as I did manage to burn my ears a wee bit. I had my best drive ever on #14, and a tee shot that skipped and clanged the basket on #7. Overall I shot a +7, which isn’t great, but I’ll take it cosnidering it’s only the second round of the year.

ode to leafs fans

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It’s fun being a Leafs fan in Ottawa (disclaimer: I thought Alfie’s impersonation of Mats was pretty damn funny, and it was a shame that a Lady Byng candidate such as Tucker was on the receiving end of a questionable hit). No, really. People send you the nicest things in the mail. I will confess, I did like the two Tucker portraits, and the Mat’s victory lap picture made me snicker. We’ll see what happens in the first round, because it’s really surprising how few people here think the Senators are going to make it through the first round. I’m not one of them, but it is the playoffs, and anything can happen.

I love the Leafs. I hate what Quinn and that fucktard, cement-head Ferguson have done to them. They used to at least try before the last ten games of the season. There used to be some actual talent besides Sundin, because heart, grit, and cheap shots will only get you so far. The last two seasons it’s been nothing but excuses, whining about officials, and blaming anyone but themselves. Quinn has proven his coaching moxy in the Olympics and this season, although some slack could be cut if he whined about what he’s been given instead of everything else. Ferguson has demonstrated his complete inability to balance a team (or to at least hire talented veterans when going the veteran route. Lindros and Allison? That’s the best you could do in last years free agent market? Jesus.).

The early golfing season shows that, and from what the Leafs front office has been saying, it’s probably not going to change next season. I guess for the playoffs, it should be “Go Habs, Go”.

*sigh*

Update: Quinn got canned today. I can’t say I’m terribly upset, but I really don’t think he’s the problem. We’ll see if Ferguson can actually do anything in the off season now that he has no one to blame anything on.

determined

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Just got back from Cranford, NJ after spending a great Easter weekend with Walt, Lee, and the kids. There was brunch, chocolate, fresh Mex, wine, beers, and a little walking of a line. As always, it was great to stay chez Trotta, and pictured here is Jake, now nine months old, and acting out his descriptor (which is also this post’s title 🙂 ).

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Both pics here were snapped by Zoe (who’s 4), who took a number of great shots for me. I’ll post a little more in a bit, but am in desperate need of some caffeine and a shower. Spending the first six hours of the week in the air or in an airport is ick-inducing.

Thanks again for getting up at 4am and driving me to EWR, z.

states I’ve visited

Because moggy posted hers, and I’m awake too early for my liking, and everything I have to do I don’t want to, I will procrastinate instead. Here’s a pictoral represenation (in red) of the states I’ve visited down South.


create your own visited states map

Yes, I actually have been to Kansas. It was like a giant suburb with no downtown. And the security around the Raytheon plants made me wonder if there were ninjas on site. And Applebees was haute cuisine. But the people were nice. Still, I won’t go back if I don’t have to. So endeth all I have to say on Kansas.

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