people i met today

1. a smarmy, gross older man, who sat next to me at a screening. he was maybe in his late 50s or early 60s, and he proceeded to try to impress me with all his credentials... all of which he "casually" let slip in the most obvious, look-how-fancy-i-am way. he is, he told me, a documentary-film producer. and a programmer for a festival. and the owner of a bunch of art-house theatres in the U.S. and montreal. and he's been to "SO many" film festivals, "sundance, cannes, you name it." and he travels all the time. and he sees SO many movies. eventually, i just looked away and started rolling my eyes with each new revelation. the more he talked, and the more he leaned into my personal space, the more i wanted to leave. plus, i couldn't stop staring at the random whiskers he'd neglected to trim (a couple hanging over his top lip, a few sticking out from his lower lip, TONS of long nose hairs sticking out... ick).

2. a delightful mother and daughter, while standing in line in the rain. they were very friendly and chatty, and we talked about the movies we'd seen and the fact that the volunteer captain at the theatre (the cumberland) kind of seemed like an asshat.

3. an older couple, who sat next to me at my last screening of the day. they were very pleasant, and they initiated a conversation after the wife complimented me on my keens (she, too, was wearing a pair). so we chatted about keens, then movies -- they'd actually stayed to the end of the doc on which i'd walked out earlier -- then film festivals. then the film started.

4. juliette lewis. seriously.

five items checked off the to-do list

1. finish writing my article on odd sidekicks and send it off to the editor. DONE!

2. pre-cut a bunch of vegetables for lunches and snacks in the coming days. DONE!

3. purchase my travel insurance and submit my hold-mail form. DONE!

4. watch this week's episode of Scandal. DONE!

5. post a blog entry, however feeble, because i have a little time to do so. DONE!

the brown-basmati-rice experiment

in case you were wondering where i was the past couple of days, i was swamped at work... largely fixing the mistakes of others (not writers, this time, but designers and the useless project manager on a special publication). it was very frustrating work and, by the time i got home each day, blogging wasn't super-appealing.

and, today, hot docs begins. i was supposed to go to a screening tonight but, after reviewing my options -- a doc about a pedophile, a doc about honour killings, a doc about a war photographer -- i ultimately decided my time would be better spent finishing the article i'm writing (which is due on tuesday). i don't want to have its completion hanging over my head, so i'm staying home to do my homework. then, tomorrow, i can set forth upon some 20+ documentaries, unburdened by unfinished business.

so, since i'm home, i've decided to finally use up the brown basmati rice i bought a couple of months ago. i've been hemming and hawing over what to make with it -- stir fry? chili? -- and, today, i finally figured out the perfect dish: a wrap.

last week, to use up some whole-wheat tortillas in my freezer, i decided to make micro-wraps (the tortillas were the small-sized ones). i smeared each one with hummus. i'd cooked some quinoa in vegetable broth, so i scooped some of that in. then i added black beans, chopped red peppers and chopped carrots... and OMG it was delicious!

when i thought about what to have for dinner tonight, i crrrrrrrraved another one of those wraps. so i went out and bought some fresh whole-grain whole-wheat tortillas (the big ones this time!) and a fresh red pepper. much to my chagrin, though, i discovered i'm almost out of quinoa.

enter: brown basmati rice.

:-D

thing was, i'd never made brown basmati rice before. so, i googled. soon, i was reading eight thousand different tips on how to make it perfectly.

cook it on the stove.

cook it in a rice cooker.

make it a 2:1 ration of water to rice.

no, 1.5:1.

no, 2.5:1.

toast the rice first.

don't toast the rice first.

soak the rice first.

don't soak the rice first.

honestly, cooking brown basmati rice shouldn't be this complicated. so, i decided to rely on my own experience cooking white long-grain rice (something i perfected years ago)... and then i just adjusted a few things to account for the longer cooking time brown basmati rice requires (something on which, apparently, every website on the internet agrees).

so, as i type this, the brown basmati rice is being steamed. my apartment has filled with the fragrant, nutty aroma of the rice... which i'm taking as a good sign and evidence that it's actually, you know, cooking. the cooker's timer bell should ring in about 20 minutes (it's been going for almost 30 minutes now), and then i'll see what i get.

hopefully, it'll be a big batch of deliciousness and the beginning of a new culinary relationship.

quality control

part of my duties at the publishing company involve editing. specifically, editing other people's writing. and, as i do, it never ceases to amaze me how sloppy and unprofessional the work of some freelance writers is when it's submitted.

these are people who, in some instances, get paid thousands (!) of dollars... and, yet, they seemingly can't be bothered to check their own spelling or punctuation before sending me what they've written. sometimes, the quality of the articles is even worse than those plagued by simple carelessness -- more than once, i've had to literally take a story apart, paragraph by paragraph, and then put it all back together (like a puzzle) just so the actual point of the piece is clear and the text cohesive.

there's one writer whom i'd like to gift with a huge bag of hyphens. they're almost never used, which means multi-part adjectives just wind up looking like a long string of unpunctuated words. like "super expensive home video surveillance system" or "a small business owner's social media marketing." at the other end of the spectrum is the freelancer who has to have at least two en dashes per paragraph... often, more. thus -- for real -- every paragraph, without question -- even a short one -- winds up dashed to the hilt. seriously.

sometimes, the crappy writer is actually well-known and i think, "wow. he/she must REALLY luck out with editors who are patient enough to fix all these mistakes to make the work look good." there have been a couple of times when copy's been submitted and i've just stared at it, dumbfounded at its sloppiness and mildly stunned that the person who was hired is actually able to keep getting work.

as a writer, i proofread and reread and tweak and reread again before i ever submit any piece of writing to an editor. i want my copy to be as clean and tight as possible, with everyone's name spelled correctly, commas placed accordingly and the facts entirely checked. i would never, ever hand in a story in the kind of condition some of our freelancers' pieces are in when they land in my inbox. i'd be mortified and embarrassed.

and then, sometimes, i get copy that's so clean and perfect that it's like a christmas present. we have a couple of regular contributors whose work i never have to edit (save for occasionally shortening it by a few words or a sentence for fit), and sitting down to read their stuff is a genuine pleasure. they GET it. they know what it means to be a professional writer who actually cares about the work, not just the cheque. sure, we might not always get the most scintillating assignments and the stories we're writing might not always be about a subject with which we're super-familiar or super-engaged... but we still do the work properly and with as much care as if they *were* fabulous, exciting assignments. it's a work ethic, plain and simple.

one day, i went to see one of our excellent freelancers in the office and went to tell her how great her copy was, and how happy i was that she was working for us. she was delighted, and thanked me, and went on to explain that, as a former copy editor, she makes sure her work is clean when she submits it. we then chatted for a good 20 minutes, comparing war stories of terrible writers and our mutual shock and dismay that they somehow remain gainfully employed. i told her about The Worst Copy Ever Written (a story i wrote about here many months ago), but she had one that beat any of mine.

during her tenure as an editor at a well-known, serious business magazine, she had a freelancer who submitted a story where all the "facts" -- and their citations -- were from, no joke, ehow.com and wikipedia. she sent the story back for revision, pointing out the errors (literal and figurative) of the author's way. the writer submitted a second draft, but it was no better. so, my former-editor pal decided to cut her losses and rewrite the story herself. she conducted actual interviews with real experts and wrote a mostly new article, but decided to keep the original (crappy) writer's opening lines. she also left the original (crappy) writer's byline intact, as a way of being generous.

cut to a few months later, when the original (crappy) writer actually had the gall to submit the rewritten story (with her name on it) for award consideration... and then won an honourable mention!

it's amazing to me that there are so many bad writers out there, and that they keep finding gigs. but i've begun to keep a list of the ones i don't want us to hire again. and, look, i understand that, as an editor, it's my job to fix mistakes and make work readable -- that's what i'm paid to do -- but i'm also getting tired of rewarding poor performance with more opportunities to make money at being lazy.

and... five more

* mr. poo's bones continue to creak. he's starting to *feel* like an old(er) cat -- if i run my hand along his back, i can feel each joint in his spine (which used to be nicely padded in fat) -- and i find myself getting weepy when i think of him not being around. he's a such a handsome, good cat.

* it was cold and blustery today, but i ventured out to go for a short walk to the library. i'd hoped to pick up a DVD or two (since the weather was ideal for hunkering down on the couch with a film), but i'd already seen everything they had in.

* instead of watching DVDs, i researched my next story for the entertainment magazine. even though it's not due until next tuesday, i want to get it done before hot docs starts. so, i'll probably write it tomorrow.

* earlier, i cooked a big batch of quinoa so i have something to take to work for lunch later this week (i'm working on wednesday and thursday). then, tonight, i decided to spoon some into the chili i'd heated up -- it was delicious! not as delicious as the vegan patties YB made this weekend, though. those things are spectacularly good, and i'm going to have to ration them (she made me a bunch to take home and freeze) so i don't eat one every day for the next six days.

* shortly, i will bake a few cookies (from some frozen dough balls) and, later, will start reading the fresh-off-the-presses book i picked up at the library last week. then, at 10pm, i will put the book down (reading before bed keeps me awake) and watch Buy Herself, the new home-search show about single women buying property solo. i think it's fitting.

five quick hits

* the annual documentary festival starts in less than a week and i cannot wait! ten days of non-stop docs. i won't be going in to the office at all and, instead, will be spending my days going from one film to the next. i've already seen a half-dozen docs at pre-fest screenings -- three were excellent, three were meh.

* i just finished reading The Miseducation of Cameron Post and, though i very much enjoyed the book, i felt unsatisfied when it ended. i suspect (and hope, actually) the author is planning a sequel. so many loose ends left untied.

* my new favourite TV show is Scandal. good grief is it ever delicious. speaking of, kerry washington, though the size of a toothpick, is insanely hot in the role of ass-kicking, kick-ass DC "fixer" olivia pope.

* this week, as part of my prep for a possible 30-day vegan challenge, i decided to buy a carton of almond milk. dairy is a big part of my diet so, if i'm not going to be able to drink (cow's) milk for a month, i'll need an alternative. i've had soy milk before, but i'm wary of too much soy (for hormonal reasons). i enjoy coconut milk, which is mild and doesn't actually taste like coconut. so, on thursday, i picked up the organic almond milk and... it's very almond-y. i opted for the unsweetened variety, so i'm not sure if added cane sugar would take a little of the edge off, but i'm not sure almond milk is for me. i did use up a bunch of it in a breakfast smoothie today: a frozen banana + a few cubes of frozen mango + a tablespoon of cashew butter + a tablespoon of chocolate syrup + the almond milk. it wasn't bad!

* my hipass pain has been mostly gone for a couple of weeks, much to my extreme delight. but, this morning, i have a weird hipache... which, i hope, is merely due to sitting on my ass in front of the computer for a few hours too many yesterday.

when lightning strikes (or: how judi dench gave me a shot in the arm)

the day after i saw the sign declaring that a condo might be going up next to my building, and while i was still very much eye-deep in an "aww, f-word" funk about what this would mean for my future, i got up, got dressed and walked to a morning screening.

the film was The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (opening on may 4th), and i didn't really know much about it, save that it was about a group of retired brits -- played by a kick-ass that included bill nighy, maggie smith, celia imrie and judi dench -- who go to india. i was entirely preoccupied with my housing future when i sat down in the theatre, and my brain was still looping around and around the "what will i do?" question as the lights dimmed.

within about five minutes of the first frame, i was in love with the movie. totally. and, as it continued to unspool before my eyes, my heart swelled more and more. most importantly, it was exactly the film i needed to see right at that moment. it was funny and poignant and smart and insanely rich in detail. all the characters were distinct and defined and, even at more than two hours, it all flew by so blissfully fast.

more than anything, though, the story was about embracing change in the face of unforeseen, unpleasant or unlikely circumstances. like, really embracing it -- diving in head-first, terrified, and learning to keep your head above water… then learning to swim… then effortlessly doing the backstroke while smiling up at the sun.

as i watched, i kept thinking, "this is the perfect thing for me to see this morning. this is the universe sending me a big, fat message, 20-feet high!" i just loved it, from start to finish. though i realized the situations in the story were dramatic, and the characters fictional, their journeys paralleled mine. they were all faced with relocating (some, very much against their will) to a completely new place and, though the transitions were filled with challenges, they learned to adjust, adapt and thrive.

now, about ten minutes into the film, and perhaps due to some kind of bizarre intuition spurred by the heart swelling that was already happening, i had a fleeting thought. "wouldn't it be funny if ol wrote this?"

by "ol" i meant ol parker, a british screenwriter with whom i had a short, but important, email pen-pal-ship back in 2005/2006. it started after i saw his directorial debut, Imagine Me & You, and sent him an unapologetically gushy letter explaining how and why i absolutely LOVED his movie. he was very kind and generous, and offered me advice on my own writing, my would-be career and, eventually, went so far as to read a script i'd written. to this day, i have his feedback email pinned to the bulletin board above my desk.

for those of you who remember that time (:::waving at matt!:::), it was one filled with great momentum and change. i wrote a screenplay in the months that followed our initial emails, and was already in my "year of living outside the box" when i decided, partly inspired by IM&Y, that i wanted to spend my 2006 birthday riding the london eye. though our emails eventually dropped off and ended, and i didn't meet up with ol while in the UK, that year was filled with so much stuff -- good and bad (it was also the year the magazine for which i worked folded, hell house became hell house, etc.).

and the night at TIFF when i'd seen ol's film for the first time (of many) had been the very start of it all. in fact, it's one of the few genuine Turning Point Moments i can cite in my life.

i hadn't really thought too much about ol in the past couple of years, save for thinking how embarrassed i'd be to tell him that i'd essentially abandoned my screenwriting. yet, as i was watching … Marigold…, somewhere deep inside, way deep down, something twigged to that night and his name popped into my head. the tone of the film did have something ol-like about it, after all.

then, two hours later when the film ended, the credits rolled.

directed by john madden.

ah, yes. the guy who did Shakespeare in Love. very good.

written by ol parker.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i just about fell out of my chair. in that instant, in that second when i saw his name all by itself in big letters on the screen, it was like a giant bolt of lightning had been shot through the roof of the theatre, aimed squarely at me. i'd honestly had NO CLUE before right at that second. HOLY CRAP.

the coincidence was too enormous to ignore… and, really, not a coincidence at all.

it was as though i'd suddenly been injected with the world's biggest B12 shot -- there was this surge of joy and inspiration in my heart, the magnitude of which i really can't properly articulate. i couldn't wait to get home and tell people all about this humungous "aha!" moment, and i swear i walked back to my place from the theatre faster than i ever have before. in fact, i practically floated home.

because i knew that the film, and that morning, marked another Turning Point Moment. it really had been about me getting a much-needed message right when i needed to get it. and, just to be sure i understood the significance and paid proper attention, the universe had it delivered by a guy who'd indirectly caused one before. in fact, that message is one that's even repeated several times in the movie, as characters struggle -- however valiantly or comically or resentfully -- with change:

"everything will be alright in the end. if it is not alright, then it is not the end."

"this year's iceland" -- part deux

once my therapist pointed out the obvious, and compared house hunting to flying across the ocean to a teeny nordic island, something clicked in my brain. yes, i thought, here it is. this year's iceland.

even though, for all intents and purposes, the actual buying of a property is not something that will happen until at least 2013, if not 2014 or later. still, the idea of embarking on that "journey" was enough of a daunting, kind-of-scary thing to more than adequately fit the Something Big to Overcome bill for 2012… even if only as i begin thinking about doing it.

because, as i well know (and as my therapist knows and as anyone who's ever met me probably knows), i am very very good at taking something relatively minor and blowing it up to epic proportions through fear, worry, anxiety and doubt. the notion of having to pack up and move -- anywhere -- would be more than enough to get that ball rolling, and the challenge would be (will be) controlling, if not thwarting, its momentum.

for a while, after the lightning-bolt-to-be-discussed-later, i was excited. i was looking at this as an opportunity to face my fears, change my life, embrace the unknown! my wonderful and amazing real-estate agent was ready to show me properties "just for fun" and i started to spend a lot of time browsing listings on the MLS site.

and that's when my long-entrenched coping mechanisms kicked into gear.

a giant sticky roller made of fear, worry, anxiety and doubt began rolling through my head, quickly and easily picking up every other dormant fear, worry, anxiety and doubt tucked into the corners of my brain. soon, the search for a home became something much much bigger and scarier than just casual pondering. suddenly, it felt like something that was really happening right NOW… as though i had only a few months to figure out where i wanted to live and how i was going to pay for it because i was moving immediately.

again, let me point out: this buying-a-home thing is at least a year or two away. not happening now. not at all.

somehow, though, things got twisted in my head. the more i searched listings, the more discouraged and panicked i became. the available options in toronto were ridiculously slim… unless i wanted to live in a hell hole or pay hundreds of thousands of dollars more than i can afford. options outside the city were more promising, and my money will go a lot farther, but i don't actually want to live outside the city… especially not when getting into town would take an hour by train.

soon, that sticky roller had collected all kinds of tangential brain lint, and i started thinking about my whole life and what lies ahead. this solo search for a home brought up familiar issues of me being alone, and living alone forever. of settling down by myself, of never having kids, of my mom never being a grandmother. of me paying for and maintaining a house on my own -- and all the related fears and worries. what if work dries up again like it did in 2008 and 2009? what if i get in over my head?

what if everything doesn't turn out okay?

(really, i should probably never be left alone to my own devices (and inner voices) in situations like this.)

once the sticky roller was filled to capacity, i stopped myself from further rolling. i realized what it -- what i -- had been doing. i'd been readily and mindlessly doing laps on a well-worn track that, really, has never ever served me well. i'd been forgetting to act and live mindfully, in the present… not completely fixated on, good or bad, the future. i started to remind myself that this move wasn't happening now, and reassuring myself that i had plenty of time to meander along this new road. no one was forcing me to do wind sprints down it in the darkness.

so, at the moment, i'm trying my best to keep the sticky roller locked in a drawer. it doesn't always work, and the roller still manages to pluck out fibres of bad stuff, but i'm trying to be mindful about it. and trying to remember to focus on all the good things that might lie ahead with a home search.

because, really, that's what this is: the search for a home. not a house, not a condo, not a co-op.

a home.

"this year's iceland" -- part one

early this year, sometime in january, in a discussion with my therapist, i talked about a deep-rooted sense of restlessness and uncertainty i was feeling about my life. a nagging wondering over where, exactly, my life was going. about what i was doing. and about what changes or challenges might lie ahead. even though i was preoccupied with the Big Picture of my entire future, my therapist encouraged me to make the picture a little smaller and more manageable and, perhaps, to just focus on the year ahead instead of all the years to come forever and ever. she suggested challenging myself -- with accomplish-able goals or tasks -- as a way of shoring up my self-confidence and proving to myself that i can do whatever i set out to do, that i can overcome, that i can forge ahead and that i can succeed. and, in doing so, lay a sound, well-fortified psychological foundation in preparation for bigger challenges down the road.

during our talk, and in thinking of examples of situations in the past where i overcame some kind of obstacle, i cited iceland. more importantly, what that experience (before, during and after) meant to me last year. how life-changing it was, despite all the pre-trip fears and anxiety. and i said that i wondered what "this year's iceland" would be. at the time, i really had no idea and i thought maybe it meant i needed to close my eyes, spin a plastic globe and point to a random spot on the planet… and then go there to prove to myself that i could. somehow, though, that didn't feel right.

weeks and months passed after that session, but the notion of seeking out some kind of metaphorical mountain to climb remained in the back of my mind. i contemplated booking a trip to paris -- the lovely, friendly owner of the guesthouse where i stayed in iceland had, after all, invited me to come see him there (and has repeated the invitation a couple more times since last august). or maybe, i thought, i need to face my fear of bed bugs head on and (*gulp*) go to NYC to see ericanddan. the more i thought about travel, though, the less i wanted to anywhere and the farther it seemed like i was going from whatever mysterious Thing i was truly meant to do/face/defeat/embrace in 2012.

cut to several weeks ago, when i discovered that sign noting the application to re-zone the land next to my apartment so that a big, obnoxious condo can be built there. as i wrote at the time, it was a heartbreaking discovery. yes, i knew (and know) that this is a process that could take a lonnng time, and it could be years before anyone even breaks ground, but still. suddenly, the possibility of something highly undesirable happening landed, quite literally, on my doorstep.

and, in typical vickie fashion, it turned my insides out.

for a good, long day, i felt sad and depressed and panicky and queasy. my mind raced and started troubleshooting -- specifically, pinpointing every possible trouble that might arise as a result of this new development, and then wrapping itself around each one like an itchy wool sweater three sizes too small. i was nursing a full-on case of hell house PTSD, and was having a hard time not being completely overwhelmed with feeling like the rug was being pulled out from under me again.

yet, in the weeks since, and after a big lightning bolt moment that arrived less than 48 hours after i first saw the re-zoning sign (something i'll write about another day), my perspective has changed. the turnaround in outlook happened very abruptly and almost serendipitously, but i've been trying to hang on to that more-positive approach ever since.

so it was that i found myself sitting in my therapist's office about a week after the lightning bolt, explaining in great detail everything that had been happening and how i was trying to change my perception. instead of looking at the potential of moving as this big, traumatic, negative inevitability, i was seeing it as an opportunity. as a chance to embrace change instead of fleeing it. as the start of a new chapter in my life.

my therapist kind of smiled and flipped back through her notes. she said one thing kept coming to mind as she listened to me talk: that, early in the year, i'd wondered what "this year's iceland" might be.

"maybe this is it," she said.

[to be continued…]

probably about 18,000-20,000 words...

... added to the photo blog since your last visit.

this is the 1200th post to this blog...

... and i really wish it would have been something a little more substantial or colourful or interesting.

like the entry i keep postponing... the one about the future. but i am SO BEHIND on my blogging. and on my writing, in general. i've hit kind of a patch of listlessness and, each day when i think, "aha! today i'm just going to sit down and WRITE!", inevitably, i do not. i know part of it is also because things are still changing, and i haven't yet figured out what, exactly, i want to say.

and now i am sitting on YB's sofa, under a big blanket because her house is rather cool, waiting for her to be done with her shower so we can bake cookies and then watch Take Shelter.

so, all this to say: entry #1200 won't be anything memorable.

and i know i'm overdue.

and i really need to be much more disciplined.

five assorted items

* yesterday, i returned to the office after about two weeks of working from home. i was never really, truly "off" so, for me, it wasn't like returning after a vacation. still, i'd been away from my desk, and i was pleasantly surprised at the reaction i received from my pals. "we missed you!", "i missed you!" and "i like it when you're in the office." it made going back (several weeks early) nice.

* that said, i had today off (i'm working sporadic days for the next two weeks) and was able to go to a daytime press screening. it was a documentary about the economic collapse of detroit, directed by the women behind the film Jesus Camp, and it was fascinating. i really had no idea detroit was in such dire straits -- you can buy a house there for $6000!

* i walked home from the screening because it was a beautiful day out, and because i really can't justify using a subway token to go three stops. i decided to take a new route home and, in the process, discovered a library branch i'd never visited before.

* on and off for the past month or so, i've thought about trying a 30-day vegan challenge -- which is to say, eating vegan for 30 days. i go back and forth on whether to do it. i know there are myriad health benefits, but i don't know that i could give up (milk) chocolate and dairy products. i continue to mull.

* even though my apartment has been unusually cold for the past four days (due to a broken furnace and, subsequently, a malfunctioning building thermostat) and, until today, i've had to wear thermals under my clothes just to be warm enough... i have had a few nights of really great sleep. everything seems to be working again, though, which means it's back to being 22ºC inside.

pysanky poeym

pysanky poeym

each spring when all the flowers bloom and eastertime is nigh

tradition calls for eggs and wax, for kistkas and for dye

for folks to spend a day just having fun creatively

an afternoon of laughter and sublime camaraderie

“pysanky” is a word that isn’t easy to pronounce

but past its tricky name is all the stuff that really counts

when people whom you know and then some others whom you meet

decide to roll up sleeves and join in this communal treat

soon all the candles flicker and the work gets underway

there’s warmth to melt your worries; stress floats off without delay

with each successive line or dot or accidental smear

ideas become reality and magic can appear

for there amid the tea lights something special might occur

(i know that those who’ve felt it will undoubtedly concur)

it’s not about the drawing on the eggs, though that is swell

it’s not about wax dripping and then glooping on a shell

it’s not about the pattern or the depth of your design

it’s not about the pizza or the prizes or the wine

it’s not just arts and crafting – that’s a part but not the whole

of something deep within you painting colours on your soul

pysanky is the twinkling that you get inside your heart

it’s all about the you you share through tiny works of art

it’s sitting down and playing around and something you create

that goes beyond the kistka strokes or all the pie you ate

like life, it’s in pysanky that the following holds true:

whatever you put in is what it gives right back to you

and when the eggs are finished, if you look you’ll surely see

the spirit of each artist on display so beautifully.

* * * * *

© yepimawriter 2012

an eastertime tradition: this year's crop!

coming attractions

coming soon to this blog:

* the much-delayed "what does the future hold?" entry

* a pysanky poem (in lieu of the annual pysanky-related entry)

* pondering a vegan challenge

and other stuff. i'm chez YB tonight, and at my parents' place tomorrow, so i probably won't be blogging again until monday.

have a wonderful easter or passover in the meantime!

and neither does this one

yeah, the 40 in 40 at 40 has, i think, pretty much derailed. or stalled.

i thought about writing tonight, but then got home from a screening to discover that, sometime earlier this week, my VCR had apparently automatically reset its own time ahead an hour (due to the preset daylight savings time dates that had been entered into its memory by the manufacturer back in 1998).

so, instead of taping NBC from 9-10pm so that i wouldn't miss the final two episodes of amanda peet's insanely charming and clever show Bent, it recorded what was, in reality, the 8-9pm hour.

i got home at 9:27pm and immediately checked for the familiar whirring sound that meant the VCR was recording. when i didn't hear it, i panicked. i checked -- it wasn't recording a thing and was sitting idle. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

i saw the time on the VCR's clock read "10:27pm."

DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the show isn't being carried by another station in canada but NBC, and NBC isn't rerunning episodes. once they've aired, that's it. they're done. never to be aired again. and NBC's website doesn't allow canadians to view content. it's also wise to proxy servers, so i can't even sneak in to watch.

i immediately grabbed the remote, turned on the VCR hit "record" so that i'd at least get the 9:30pm finale.

so, now i'm just too frustrated and bummed to write about anything other than being frustrated and bummed.

this entry doesn't count towards the 40!

but i wanted to offer a quick update because it's been three days since my last posting... and i know i've kind of left a cliffhanger hanging.

the weekend was filled with story-finishing, laundry-folding and tax-doing, and i spent much of it in the 'burbs. ever since my parents wound up with malware (which has since been turfed) on their PC and my mom's email was hacked a couple of months ago, i've been hesitant to use their computer to log into anything that requires i cough up a password. blogger included. so, i was mostly offline.

anyway...

i have spent many, many hours over these past three days -- between CPP calculations and adding fabric softener and waxing poetic about what makes actors decide to try singing -- pondering my future. what i will do. where i will live. what i want to do. where i want to live. it's all been kind of churn-y and weird. at times, exciting and hopeful. other times, terrifying and filled with gut-punching doubts.

on saturday night, YB and i treated ourselves to ricotta gnocchi in fresh tomato-basil sauce, which was fabulous, and two designer brownies -- hers, a coffee/toffee things; mine, a salted-caramel delight that i heated in the microwave and then ate with fresh vanilla ice cream. ohsoverygood.

then i browsed real-estate listings.

and felt panicky.

and thought about my big windows and beautiful view and felt sad.

then, after putting on my pyjamas, i watched Celebrity Apprentice with mom for three hours and had a nice evening.

and, though i'd hoped to have this week off, it looks like i may have to go back into the office.