This past Monday we watched Life of Pi and I brought 3.14 cherry pies, which actually looked like awful olive weird things and weren't great, and some sort of Indian hickory sticks. Dru brought super spicy samosas (but apparently only to me and the two present children) and blue ocean cocktails while Jen made tiger cookies, without a cookie cutter. Moms never cease to amaze me.
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Having been around the block once or twice on the dating scene, I have become adept at the "break-up". And I use this term very loosely; I don't mean with actual relationships, I mean with those fleeting encounters that comprise of one to four dates. These are not relationships, they are blips on the dating journey on my way to happily ever after. They're trying people out to see who fits. Very few fit. Once I realize this, usually very quickly, I am insistent on treating the person with enough respect to be up front and straight forward about my interest, or lack thereof. When it comes to dating, or any relationship really, there is nothing worse, more rude, more disrespectful and more hurtful than disappearing from someone's life without an explanation. So, in this way, I am a big fan of telling and being told the truth, straight up, rather than dodging calls and ignoring texts. Ok, maybe 'fan' is the wrong word.
However, since I insist on doing this with every unsuccessful date I go on, I have sent this text/email or made this call more times than I'd like to remember. Sometimes it's easy and I feel a great relief at tying things up in a nice bow and other times I feel disappointed, dejected and emotionally spent. This past week was one of those times. Dating can really chip away at your optimism some days. Most of the time I enjoy dating, meeting new people, the hope that exists that maybe you'll really hit it off, and the excitement and butterflies of a first date. But once in a while, after going on yet another date with someone who you don't feel "IT" with, it can be really disheartening. That was my week.
But on the upside, I did get an email this week that went like this: "Hey. What's up? Your pretty." Awesome.
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Nothing cheers one up like eating French toast on Pancake Tuesday with a friend while being introduced to this season of "The Bachelor". Andreana filled me in on all the crazy details (i.e. crazy ho-bags) and I found myself instantly invested. It is a good thing I don't have cable at home.
Sample quote from aforementioned ho-bag: "I can't control my eyebrow!"
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Wednesday was "Hamilton Day" for me as it brought both a HIVE meeting and a South Sherman neighbourhood meeting. The South Sherman meeting was a presentation on women in our neighbourhood and how their sense of place is created. There were about 30 people in attendance and quiche! That was unexpected. The funny thing about our neighbourhood is that it varies greatly. It is a predominantly blue-collar, lower to middling income area, but a gentrification trend is growing and there are a lot of young professionals buying houses here. So, at the meeting, it was quite a cross-section of residents. My friend and I made up the "I'm-dressed-up-from-my-professional-day-job-and-wearing-a-fur-collar-and-heels-and-likely-giving-off-a-snobby-vibe" portion of the crowd. Whatever.
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It's almost Oscar night, the night where all these terrible movies I've been watching the past two months will be worth my while. Or not really at all. Either way, the hunt continues for the perfect (awful) Oscar dress. The last several years have been all over the place, but I'm looking for an amazing taffeta confection with bows if possible. This was a serious contender, but it didn't fit:
It also seems like I have a strong affinity for purple this year, but we'll have to see what my stylist says. This contender, while is super droopy and makes me look like I have massive saddlebags, is really comfortable. Doesn't that count for something when you're sitting around eating and watching TV, which is essentially what our Oscar parties are all about?
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This afternoon, a friend and I tried our hand at pottery with a McMaster University alumni event at the Dundas Valley School of Art. I've never done anything like this and I wouldn't say I'm that great at visual arts, but I thought it would be fun to try.
We did two types of pottery - one dry with our hands and one wet with the wheel. Truth be told, we both signed up to use the wheel. I was pretty proud of my dry one, especially when the instructor used it as an example to the rest of the class. Until she told me that the sides were too thin and it would crack into a million pieces in the kiln. Humph.
Using the wet wheel was exactly the opposite of the scene in the movie Ghost, but still really fun. And messy. I made...guess...a bowl. Yep, that's pretty much what I could 'master' in a couple hours. In two weeks, we come back and glaze/paint our creations and then presumably give them to our parents so that they can relive decades past by receiving a gift seemingly made by a child.
This week I had to replace my second car horn in the last several years. The only explanation I can think of is that the craftsmanship of automobile noise makers has really declined recently. Someone should really look into this.
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