Pass/Fail

"ASK ME ABOUT THE MR. SNUFFLEUPAGUS PASS/FAIL TEST!"


This used to be written on my brother's shirt. And what the test was is that if you could remember when Mr. Snuffleupagus was Big Bird's imaginary friend, you were old enough for him to date (Muppet wiki tells me this was in 1985). Chris figured this out when he decided anyone his little sister's age was too young for him, and since I only incredibly vaguely remember such event, it seemed to work. (I'm not sure about how this pickup line worked for him, but I suppose that's for his blog... his IMAGINARY blog because he doesn't have one... but then if he makes a real blog, maybe one day we can all make shirts that say "Ask me about the Chris' blog pass/fail test". It'll be like a club. With T-shirts. And decoder-rings. Awesome.)

In college I had a professor who gave the hardest tests ever. Half of the test was true/false and the other half was short-answer. But the bugger was if something was false, you had to make it true. So you'd spend for freaking EVER on one measly little point. And if you didn't make it COMPLETELY true, or one thing you said in your explination was incorrect, the whole thing was wrong. And true/false tests were supposed to be the easy ones... LAME.


Hey, quick aside... remember scantron sheets? I distinctly remember when we started using scantron sheets in elementary school. And the JOYS of the scantron. You finish your test, walk up to the teacher, put your test packet on the desk, scan your test (note the results) and then put the test on the desk and walk back to your seat. GENIUS! Whoever thought up that idea deserves a gold star. Again with the irony that because of the scantron, you didn't get gold stars anymore because there wasn't a person reading them.

Although, scandal, the last person to give me a gold star was Mo DeMoss. She was my boss when I worked at Tybrin and one day she was reviewing some technical-how-to of my job that was ridiculous and took common-sense to a new lame... and she put stickers on the top and said "good job." Apparently she didn't know that it stopped being cool/reinforcing a while ago because I just felt belittled.


I seem to remember gold stars making me feel good. Once upon a time... like when Robin gave Gold stars to all her friends in high school, but she gave Neals a green star because he sucked. Luckily, I totally got a gold star. YESSSS!

Back on point (if I can remember the point)... Yeah, sometimes life feels like a pass/fail test. I'm either SUPER-awesome, or a SUPER-failure. But the tricky thing is... life is always somewhere in the middle. It's not the teacher who gives you NO points if ANYTHING is wrong. And it's not the teacher who gives you a gold star and gives you points for just trying (and two points for writing your name correctly).

Life is both better and worse than we give it credit for. It's more awesome and more, like, SUCK. And it's also more gold stars than we see because we're too busy looking at the green ones.

Canada, Oh Canada - It's GREAT!

I am tired. Emotionally, physically, mentally. BLEH. I loves me some Canada, but I have gots to now take another week off work to recover from the whole ordeal.

Canada to me is a magical and awesome place. I know most of you think it looks like this:

And you are absolutely right! That is exactly what Canada looks like. All the time. In fact, all Canadians look exactly like they do in South Park. And summer is two weeks long. And all Canadians know each other (do you know Steve from Quebec?). And they live in Igloos (at least in the North-West Territory) and all of them wear fur pelts to keep warm.


But for me Canada is that one place that can do no-wrong. Sure it's frigid cold and they have $2 coins that weigh my pocket down and make me feel like I'm poor when in real-life I have a lot of cash... but it's that place that I talk about. The place where everything tastes better, and everything good comes from. All the people are nice, and the mountains and the prairies have better light on them.

Here are some musings as to why Canada is awesome:


- VINEGAR. Holy crap. Vinegar on fries is AWESOME. And tasty. And gives me 2/3 of the joy of eating fish and chips without actually eating fish and chips. And where else do they ask if you want vinegar for your fries?

- Know what else they put on their fries? Gravy. Nothing says "Canada" to me like offering gravy with your fries. YUM. (and death... but mostly yum)


- Know what ELSE they put on their fries? PUTIEN. Putien is gravy and cheese curds on fries. Clearly it was thought-up by those lousy French-Canadians... and it is... well... not my favorite. I mean, it's fun. And interesting. And had enough salt to choke you. And I'm glad they thought of it. But it is not for Sarahs.


- What IS for Sarah's are crumpets. YUUUUMMMM! It's like a pancake crossed with an english muffin. AND I LOVE BOTH OF THOSE THINGS! So you would assume that I'd like the off-spring. AND I DO. Esp with extra butter and lemon curd.

- Other awesome things include when people say it's beautiful outside... anything with the sun out is beautiful. It was 35 degrees and everyone was talking about what a lovely day it was. I was talking about what a cold day it was. Clearly I don't fall into the category of "tough Canadian."


- This is Radium. He is Liz and Steve's pet dog. Look at the pretty eyes, the adorable ears and the awesomeness generally surrounding this dog. This dog is the best dog in Canada. Perhaps you'd have to meet him to understand his cuteness/adorability/loyalty but trust me when I tell you that this dog is awesome.


- What I love most about Canada is my family there. Honestly, that part of my family is nothing but interesting an thoughtful and loving. In anything I do in this world, I know they will always love and accept me and never judge me. (obviously this picture is a year old...)



- ooh and also butter tarts. YUM to the butter tarts.

Hamlet

It's an interesting fact that I usually blog when I'm busiest. Apparently when I am busy I think of a lot of things that need to be said. Well... more than usual...

To sleep, perchance to dream


Last night I had a dream that I was riding a bike home from work (which was at the e-center). The problem with the dream is that every time I would stop, the bike would get harder to control and i would be less and less able to reach the pedals (the bike kept getting larger and larger). So, obviously, I looked-up what the dream meant:

Bicycle

To dream that you are riding a bicycle, signifies your desires to attain a balance in your life. You need to balance work and pleasure in order to succeed in your current undertakings. If you have difficulties riding the bicycle, then it suggests that you are experiencing anxieties about making it on your own.

Big

To dream that someone or something is bigger than normal, indicates that you either have an inflated opinion of yourself or of someone. You may be expressing a desire to be more dominant in some situation or relationship.

So apparently I have an inflated opinion of my anxieties and inability to find balance in my life?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all

Finding balance between work and pleasure, the spiritual and the every-day, truth and what is easy. There's a fine-line between all of it. I'm not sure what the right answer for any of it is. I think too often I just don't decide. It's not a strong argument... ooh, but as is so often the case with my arguments, I do have lyrics to back me up...

Then from out of the blue, and without any guide, you know what your decision is, which is not to decide. You'll just leave him a clue: for example, a shoe. And then see what he'll do. Now it's he and not you who is stuck with a shoe...in a stew...in the goo...and you've learned something too, something you never knew, on the steps of the palace.

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil

My grandpa died this week. It was really a blessing with everything going on health-wise with him. (do not read if you're eating) He had lost over 70 lbs in a month based on eating-less and puss/goo weeping out of his legs (which apparently was good because it used to be in his lungs?). What a strange feeling it is to pray for someone you love to die. A strange feeling to feel relief when someone is gone. And a strange feeling to be sad when what you wanted to happen... happens.

But, as I told my friend Tom, he was a good grandpa. Always with a camera, always with an organization structure to make sure he got the right shot. He loved good food, good people. The lovely people at the Imperial Palace knew, based on the structure of his plate, what he wanted boxed-up to go. And most of all, he was charming. Even when he couldn't remember names he would tell nurses that he "never forgets a pretty face." I will miss him terribly.

The undiscovere'd country

So, I'm going to Canada this week. Let me know if you need anything of the Canadian persuasion... Perhaps I should buy crumpets and we can all have a tea-party when we get back (ooh... suddenly that seems like a lovely idea).

To be, or not to be, that is the question

The window I can see from my office (through my across-the-hall co-worker's glass office's window) is closed today... I've just spent 20 minutes thinking I should go open his blinds... Maybe I will.

Also, just in case you haven't heard... I had my first vaguely-sporty event ever this weekend. It was a 5K and it was AWESOME. HOORAY!!!