I attended the Blue Mile run today. It was, obviously, just a mile long. A run, but you were supposed to wear blue. Well, I can do that in spades. I had a blue zentai outfit, so I thought I could out-blue anyone there.
I only participated in the fun run. And I did it with the hood up. This meant that my visibility was high, but my personal visibility was low. I didn’t have trouble breathing, but I could really only see shapes. I quickly realized how awkward that was when I twisted my ankle a bit in a pothole. I took to following someone in a neon-green shirt, and assumed he would avoid the hazards on the road. If the sun was in my eyes, I was effectively blind.
I got to run on Whyte avenue for awhile, and I was fairly popular there. Better than the walk to the course where I was frequently asked “Did you lose a bet?”
In theory, if you were one of the elites, you could only win the very large prize money if you were wearing blue. Almost none of them were. I didn’t think that was in the spirit, but when they can run a mile in less than five minutes, I’m hardly one to argue.
Afterwards there was a pizza party. And then I went to Feast. All while being completely covered in electric blue.
While driving home, on Whyte avenue, I saw three girls skipping along in their own zentai outfits. I can easily come up with reasons not to go out and meet them; I’m too old for Whyte; I don’t have anything to do with them; I wouldn’t be able to find them after I parked the car; I didn’t want to get harassed by drunk people on Whyte while I’m in a full body-stocking.
I still should have gone out.

The family dog, Harry, died in his sleep last night. He didn’t live with me, but of all the pets I’ve had, he was my favourite. This is because he only knew me as an adult. When I was little, I was not as nice to dogs as I should have been. But with Harry, I gave him attention, I scratched his ears, I took him for real exercise, and I gave him big, honking, cow bones. Dogs are always open to bribery. But even before I started giving him the bones, when I visited, he would go insane with happiness to see me. It is always nice to have someone love you.
I wasn’t responsible for picking him. I had moved away from my family when they got him. On his car ride home, he drooled a huge amount of water. In fact, in any car ride he was a nervous drooler. It took several years for him to calm down. And then he came to love the car rides. Even if he never left the car, he just liked being in it.
He was a rescue, but he had a significant amount of border collie in him. But since he didn’t have sheep to herd, he took to herding the family. He made sure we kept to a schedule: get up now, woof woof woof, eat breakfast, done breakfast so stop socializing and get to work, start making lunch, eat lunch, nap time, go get a drink, make dinner, eat dinner, go watch TV. Once he figured out the routine, he enforced it. When we went for walks, he always checked to make sure no one was straying from the pack. I took him for a run with the Running Room run club, and when I off-leashed him in Hawerlak park, he quietly circled the group.
His great love was tummy rubs. I preferred to scratch ears, but he would always show his belly and look expectedly at you.
He loved the cow bones I brought him, but in his later years he wasn’t as interested in chewing them as showing them off. He would only chew if someone would admire it while he did so. Otherwise, he just spent quality time with them. And would grown if you came to close.
He was my dog, and even though I didn’t see him all the time, he was mine. The family home will be empty without him. Who will tell us what to do now?

Tonight I decided to put my salsa lessons to work. I went out to “On the Rocks” to try their Salsa Thursdays. The entire point of salsa lessons has been to gain confidence when I do go out, so this should have been a good field test.
But like a quality university education, the real world is quite different from class.
Now I have to dance with people who don’t know what to expect. I have to actually Lead. I can’t just do the moves that I know my follow is expecting. And it doesn’t help that I don’t always remember exactly what the moves are.
I saved myself from feeling too discouraged by leaving early. At the next class I’ll have a better idea as to what to work on. Hopefully it will stick for my next field test.

I did the Blackfoot 100km run on Saturday. Here are my thoughts.
It is a 25km loop that I have to do four times. I was not expecting it to be pleasant, due to the weather. I bundled up and was prepared for the worst. But 5km in I abandoned my rain jacket; it was making me too hot and there was no rain; just wet ground. I deposited it at an aid station, and they returned it to the starting area.
While the weather was pleasant enough, conditions were not good on the ground due to the previous rain. Wapiti trail is used by horses, and apparently an ambitious beaver, so it was a mass of mud. I liked it better than the 2.5km mud road through the hilly field immediately after though. I am very glad I had Goretex socks; they saved my feet from all the mud and wet grass. My shoes currently look like a complete disaster.
Half an hour into the third loop, it started to rain. In other words, when I was about three hours away from my rain jacket. But, I’m not made of sugar, and as I like to say “Suck it up, princess!” Luckily, I had a change of clothes waiting for me at the trail head as well.
It was about this time that blisters forming on the bottom of my feet. They weren’t bad enough to slow me down, and only caused pain if I stepped on an errant tree root. The next day though, they are nothing but pain.
Half of the people I know did not make it. One had kidney troubles. Another blew a hip flexor. I was lucky enough to catch up with a fast friend, and we stuck together throughout the race. She did keep trying to lose me at the trailhead, but then, I do take a lot of time at aid stations. I need to work on that.
At the end of the third loop, a girl gave me a meatball shaped snack. She said it had protein. I don’t know what it was, but it gave me a huge burst of energy. I was suddenly feeling good again. I really need to find out what was in that. Or at least, get more protein in my system. Which was good, because when I had made a request from some other volunteers for some of their chicken noodle soup, their first response was to fill the pot up with cold water. I think they thought I was done, and not in a rush.
After it was all over, I got a medal. That was a first for this race; previous years there were none.

When I first heard about the bombings in Boston, I was stunned, but I didn’t think of it as shocking as I should have. At the time, there were no fatalities. In my head, I think of anything else as an inconvenience. But injuries can be lifelong affairs. And I’ve now heard of limbs lost, which for a runner is a major tragedy.
I guess it really didn’t sink in as to how tragic this is.
If a bombing happens in the Middle East, I really don’t feel much of anything. I know I should feel sorry for the people killed, but it is so far removed from me, it is hard to feel much. This is where Hamilton’s Rule comes in to play. “The degree of altruistic self-sacrifice that might be expected as being proportional to the degree of relatedness.”
Now, we are dealing with a marathon. These are my people! I should be feeling more. And as time has gone on, I am becoming more involved. I check the news regularly. I want to know the details.
I’m also wondering how many runners were hurt? The bombs couldn’t have been in the streets as they would have been cleared for the race.
I take a certain pride that every real marathon I have run, I have done in a time of around 3:45:00. For me to qualify to run in Boston, I would have to be faster than 3:15:00. And these days, I am concentrating on slower over a much longer distance. The last time I came close to doing a marathon, was when I did the DisneyWorld marathon the day after I did the DisneyWorld half-marathon. I don’t count that as a true marathon though, more of a half-ultra. In any case, my time for that was four hours. Which is ten minutes before the bombs went off in Boston. If I had been there, there is a very good chance I would have been in the area.
Will we need to worry about other marathons in the future?

Because I apparently have too much time on my hands (I don’t), I signed up for the next level of salsa dancing class. So I am continuing to dance on Monday evenings.
It was looking like a good idea at the time. For the last few classes at level one, the instructor was complimenting me. She was also using me as the demo model; she assumed I knew the steps well enough so everyone was supposed to copy me.
I was sure this was going to end with me getting beat up after class.
I do have a problem with level two though. Mostly that it is actually level three. Everyone else in the class has taken it several times before, so I am behind. Did I mention that there are also twice as many men as women? So, even if I have a chance to figure out what I need to do, there is only a 50% chance that I can actually try and learn it at any one time.
I could go to some of the Friday evening sessions she has at a restaurant/bar. But they never so salsa there. They teach some other latin dance and then play music appropriate for that dance for the rest of the night. I am not smart enough to know two types of dancing; if I learn a new dance, I forget how to dance salsa. This is not helping matters.
Did you know the reason I took salsa classes? It was so that I could stop feeling stupid. I’ve gone salsa dancing before after an introductory session, and I never seem to grasp the fundamentals. I figured that if I took an actual class, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. I could dance with confidence.
Now I am back to feeling dumb. It is making me feel angry after the class is over. But there really isn’t anyone to blame. I suppose I could go back down to level one.

I haven’t written here in awhile, which is against my New Year’s resolution. I am keeping up with others though, and I seem to be adding more responsibilities.
I have been doing my physical therapy exercises. I did them every day in February, and I’m still keeping an unbroken daily line going. I’m going to health sessions less and less as a result (if I am trusted to make a causality argument) and I’m hoping that next week will be the first week in a long time where I don’t see any medical people. This may be why I felt comfortable running 40km on Sunday.
Last week, my sister started a large assignment towards her Phd. She has been given three questions and has to write three papers on them within three weeks. To keep herself motivated, she gave me a challenge as well. Apparently we are supposed to compete.
I have to do a task each day while she is doing these papers. I was able to negotiate three separate projects as she has three papers. So each day, I have to do one of three things.

1. Go for a run. This was a requirement for me to agree to this. It isn’t a challenge for me to go for a run, but there is a price to pay for running. If I run, I have less time, and afterwards I may not feel like doing anything. I do not want to have to choose between doing a run and this challenge.
2. Contact a woman. I need to send out a message to a woman on a dating site. I generally hate doing this, but I need to. I want to have a relationship, so I need to work at it. This will be good for me.
3. Program for half an hour. I have programming projects of my own that I want to do. With this task, I’ll actually get around to doing them.

The sad thing is that this has been my first evening where I have time to relax in quite some time. I still did a run; hill training; six sets of hills. But I enjoyed spending the rest of the evening vegging out on television.
My weekdays are way too busy. I always have something I am doing. Weekends are when I have time to clean up and maintain my life. It makes visiting my parents very traumatic to my schedule. I love going and seeing them, but missing a weekend puts me behind schedule. It always takes me a long time to get my life back in order.

I have a theory.
Edmonton is a frigid place and many people don’t like it here because of that. Yet a lot of people also like this place, and go out of there way to move here. And I think I have figured out why:
People like Edmonton directly proportional to how much winter activity they do.
I go out running all winter. This means I don’t get cabin fever and I get to enjoy the spectacular river valley. If I did not, I would be stuck inside all winter, and understandably cranky about it. Most of my friends, who like Edmonton, are also healthy people with winter exercises.
The river valley here is key. It is a huge park that really sets Edmonton apart from other cities. It amplifies outdoor activities. If we didn’t have it, winter would be a lot worse.
And if you can’t enjoy winter, then Edmonton would indeed be terrible. But whose fault is that?

Am I undateable?
Okay, hear me out. This isn’t a grab for sympathy, but some introspection that I want to go through. And I am feeling good about this, because I think I’ve discovered something.
In my previous post on February 9th, I made this statement:

The thing going through my head is that I don’t want to let anyone down. If I ask someone to dance, I am taking responsibility for giving them a good time. If I don’t feel I have the skills to do that, I am feel bad and am disappointed in myself.

One could just glance over what I said, but if we look closer, what can we learn?
I saw a video recently of a friend and her boyfriend getting ready to go out for some clubbing. They were dressed more extreme that I am used to. But what got me was that the guy looked relaxed and okay with it all. He was having fun.
“I am taking responsibility for giving them a good time.”
That might just be the crux of my problems. Whenever I am with a woman I am attracted to, I can not be myself. I cannot just enjoy myself. The overwhelming responsibility is wrecking that.
If I am with a non-single woman, they are just a friend. It is not my responsibility to give them a good time. I can be myself. I still seem to be worried that they aren’t having a good time, but the pressure is far, far, less. I need to be like that more.
I need to stop caring about people!
Or be more trusting. Trust that another person isn’t going to try and get rid of me when I am not being entertaining. Except that past experience doesn’t support that hypothesis.

I went to the Telus World of Science yesterday. Nominally it was to see the Star Wars exhibit, but I also spent a good part of the day soaking up science.
And it led to some awkward questions.
Have we passed our pinnacle of science? Don’t get me wrong, science is still marching on and making discoveries. But there are very few big science moments that everyone can grasp. Things that people will sit up and notice.
For me, the pinnacle was going to the moon. No one can imagine it as being easy. Everyone can understand what is going on. People can wrap their heads around it.
The Large Hadron Collider is big science, but let’s be honest, I have no real idea what it is doing. I’ve attended a lecture that did describe it, and I may have the gist of it. But my heart doesn’t understand it.
I suppose this is that same kind of “logic” that anti-vaccine people use.
I still am in awe of the big lug, but it doesn’t inspire me. Space does. And so far, the biggest thing we do in space was to send a atomic robot tank to Mars. Impressive. But nothing beats an astronaut.
I read once that one of the benefits of the Apollo mission was that kids wanted to be astronauts, so they took science. It inspired people. Back then, NASA had cachet. Now, it doesn’t inspire as much. (Although I still get goosebumps just seeing a space shuttle go up.) Do kids these days think of returning fire to the gods, or are they more likely to want to be an investment banker to rape and pillage businesses?
Are we just rearranging deck chairs on the titanic? Or can we become gods again?

Well, that was interesting.
Interesting in the sense that I never want to do it again.
I had gone to, what I had been told, would be some salsa dancing. Since my class next week is postponed, it would be a good opportunity to keep in training. There would be a bachata starter class beforehand, but it would a good thing to be familiar with.
It was not mentioned that there is a bachata conference going on. So, after the simple class, there would be nothing but bachata music and lots of people who are far, far, better at it than you dancing it.
I feel self-conscious enough with salsa, which I am beginning to get familiar with. Under these perfect-storm conditions, nothing good could happen. The thing going through my head is that I don’t want to let anyone down. If I ask someone to dance, I am taking responsibility for giving them a good time. If I don’t feel I have the skills to do that, I feel bad and am disappointed in myself.
Now, I could probably say that I was there to dance, and that people would be friendly and happy to dance with someone who only knows the basic step. And I even said that out loud to someone else. But it is one thing to say it, and another to believe it. And I do know that I was having a mild panic attack while there.
I did know a few people there, which might have made it easier. The instructor was usually busy, and I did force her to dance salsa with me and critique it. There was the girl that I danced with last week, but she was popular to dance with so had more showy people to be with. Oddly, there was a runner I knew there, but she is in level 2 of bachata, which is not where I am at. I did spend some time talking to her though. And that was the extent of my social circle. Otherwise, just like a bar.
I should try and take some vitamin B complex before I go out. I hear it reduces anxiety.

The second last Newsweek ever had an interesting article about resolutions. It came out around the new year, so it is not without precedent. The general gist of it, is that most everyone will fail at resolutions. Instead of trying to achieve a target, you should try and do something each day to help with your goal. One of the methods recommended, was to put an “X” in a calendar for every day that you worked towards your goal. “Your only job … is not break the chain.”
I’ve got a running calendar that I’ve been using to keep track of my physical therapy exercises. The method has been working. I’ve actually gone running again, albeit on a treadmill, but tomorrow I plan to do my first run outside.
But I wanted to use the method on my new years resolution (to be a creator). However, I do not have another calendar in which I can keep track of those “X”s, so it has been somewhat more difficult to be as motivated. But I’ve been dancing, updating my blog, being proactive on Facebook… All good things.
There is an unfortunate side-effect of this though. I have been stressed. Maybe part of it is problems with my new bed, but I haven’t been getting as much sleep as I used to because I’m trying to do everything. This caused me to be sick last week, which messed up my Xs anyway.
So, I have to find a balance between being a better person and not burning myself out.

I tried to donate blood yesterday. Actually, I first tried two days ago, but due to a physical therapy session that ran long, I was fifteen minutes late for my appointment, and it was closing time. I rebooked for the next day.
Apparently, I am now exciting enough that I can’t donate blood. I wish I could say it was for wild, promiscuous sex, or horrible gashes from knife fights with rebel guerillas, or sharing needles with various homeless people; stories you can brag about. But instead it is because I went to the Dominican Republic and now I am the harbinger of doom for a malaria outbreak.
I could donate plasma instead. But looking at the literature I am a terrible donor for that. Type O blood is a the best blood type to donate red blood cells. It would be better if I was O negative, which is a universal donor, but my O positive is still pretty good. However, that is reversed for plasma: blood type AB is a universal donor for plasma, O is a universal acceptor
The literature does say “Male O+ donors needed to join our Plasma Program”. Since they asked nicely, I should go do it. But why aren’t women wanted? Does female plasma have cooties?

I feel guilty. Constantly.
I have not committed any crimes. I am not religious. God is not judging me. I have no reason to feel guilty.
But I do. If I do anything slightly wrong, it bothers me for a long time. Even little things. The fact that I am too tired and exhausted to work on my resolution is making me feel like a bad person. And since part of my resolution is to make an effort on dating sites, which you should only do when you feel good about yourself, I’m getting stuck in an ugly feedback loop.
Contributing to this is the knowledge that my dating life, and lack thereof, is completely MY fault. If it was important to me, I would work at it. Apparently it isn’t.
Things at work bother me. I’m probably not being as good a friend as I should be. Why do I not give more to charities. Guilt, guilt, guilt.
I’m frankly tired of it. I don’t deserve this. I would like to be free from my conscious. I would like to be able to swear. I would like to take advantage of intoxicated women with loose morals. I would like to not feel bad about asking a woman out. That last one makes no sense, but I always feel like I’m doing something rude when I’m talking to a woman I don’t know.
And if people comment on this post with sympathy, I’m going to feel bad that I guilted people into feeling sorry for me.

I’ve been wanting to do this again for a long time, and tonight I finally got around to doing it. I took my laptop to Starbucks, got a hot chocolate, and did some work. Well, not work-work, but self-improvement work. Starbucks has the advantage that it does not have internet access. (As far as I know. Please don’t tell me otherwise.) So it is much harder to be distracted. I also can pretend I am getting out to see other people. That last one is probably a lie though.
So, I did some work on my D&D campaign, updating the website, even though I can’t post it until I get home. I worked on my French manuscript website. That I’m not planning to post yet, but since I can host it on my laptop, I can play around with the database, code, and presentation. Unfortunately I can’t do any work that I desperately need to do on the dating sites I’ve joined.
This weekend has been rather shut-in. Going to Starbucks is the first I’ve been out of my building since Friday. And I only left my condo this morning to use the exercise room to abuse the exercycle for a couple of hours.
It has been a fairly productive weekend though. I got through a lot of my financial paperwork, getting it into my computer and filing the papers away. I have a lot less loose papers cluttering up my office. I also watched some Doctor Who episodes. (See the reason I go to Starbucks.)
Unfortunately a lot of the progress on cleaning up took a big step backwards when I turned my place upside down trying, unsuccessfully, to find my Starbucks gift card.

Salsa classes started today.
The first class didn’t teach me anything much; the three basic steps and a twirl. I don’t get to twirl, only the girl gets to do that. I’ve had all this training before at various drop-in classes I’ve been to in the past. Unfortunately, I usually forget the lessons by the time I go to the next drop-in. This time I’ve actually paid for a six week course. The plan is that if I do this regularly, the lessons might stick.
It is embarrassing to not be able to remember the difference in steps between salsa and swing.
The course hasn’t started as well as I had hoped. Usually I am told that more woman sign up than men. That never seems to be the case for me. And now I’m stuck with this male:female ratio for another five classes. It isn’t too bad; with the instructor, there is only one more female than male. And she has said she will bring in some more women next time.
In addition, I’m trying to take the advice of some female friends. I am going there to learn salsa, not to meet women. I have no intention of doing anything more. Women can sense desperation, so I am doing my best not be interested in any of them.

I’m concerned about my knee. It has been a month since the run that injured it, and it still isn’t perfect. Over the past week it has been getting better, but it still hasn’t healed completely. Last week, a friend who is a physical therapist, thought I should get an MRI. With that state of panic in my head, I made an appointment with my regular physical therapist.
This knee injury probably happened because I have a weak gluteus medius. I’ve been going to River Valley Health to try and get it better. I haven’t seen my physician for about a month, because Christmas interferes with everything and she was away on vacation. So I made a pledge for that period of time to try and do the prescribed exercises every day. And I was good at keeping that promise. So when I had my visit on Wednesday, I apparently had made a lot of progress.
So, doing the exercises, that the expert wants you to do, actually helps! Who could have guessed?
She had me do some other exercises to see how things are. The reason I have a weak gluteus medius is that all my other muscles have gotten really strong and feel the need to take over its normal duties. So these exercises require me to activate it. I figured out the best way to do that was to actually punch my offending muscle a few times. It seems to give it the idea that it is supposed to be doing something. My physician finds this amusing. I think she is judging me.
In any case, I went to my actual physical therapist today to get his opinion. I know I misheard his prognosis, but what I recall is “A resolving MCL sprain, with a pez dispenser strain.” He game me permission to sign up for the Blackfoot ultra in May. So I have my goal again.
I probably should have asked about the salsa lessons I start on Monday, but it slipped my mind.
I have new exercises to do, but already I feel myself getting into bad habits. With my family visiting and the rush to clean my place up, I have become negligent in my therapy.
I’m told I don’t need an MRI. I still tempted to try and get one. I’m sure by the time the appointment comes around, I will have injured myself again.

To run the Blackfoot ultra, one has to have volunteered for some organization that promotes running and/or healthy living. Since the organizer of that run also organizes the Fat Donkey run (Not actually called that. Look up a synonym for the second word in a thesaurus. Pick the one that is alphabetically first), I thought it would be a good event to volunteer for. Since my knee is still bothering me, I couldn’t run it. However, when I tried to volunteer, I was told last Tuesday that they already had enough people.
Then on Thursday, I got another message asking me to show up on Saturday at 6:30 AM. On the day, I found out the other early morning volunteer was unable to make it. So, from being not needed, to being the only one standing between the ultramarathon and failure.
It’s a fairly laid back race; show up when you want, pay $3, let us know when you leave, and when you are done. Heck, start out before the volunteers get there and when you are back, let us know when you left. We trust you. Prices are kept low by an utter lack of prizes. Although many paid extra. One person just handed me a bunch of loose change ($3.40). And we discovered, after the fact, that that loonie was actually a car-wash token. (Probably worth more.)
The first half hour was cold, because the Kinsmen doesn’t open until 7:00. And they are sticklers for not letting people in early.
But I did learn, that people are very trusting. If some homeless guy had been at the front entrance of the Kinsmen with a piece of paper and a pen, he could have collected $3 from a lot of people. It did probably help that I had on a Death Race toque and jacket. And more importantly, I had on my Mont Blanc ultra t-shirt. It was a good conversation starter. No one else around here has one.
At about eight o’clock, another volunteer showed up. I got her doing the text messaging to the aid station volunteers; to keep track of who they should expect. When the third volunteer appeared, she was mainly in charge of taking pictures. I was only supposed to be there for three hours, but it was enjoyable enough that I hung around for six. My only plan for the day was to avoid cleaning my home, and it was easier to do that when I wasn’t at home.
In the end, we only lost two people. Two set out on the half run (25km) and just disappeared. They never checked in afterwards. There wasn’t a lot we could do; we didn’t have contact information for them. When the race director finished his run, it became his problem.

I don’t know how much of this is coming from my resolution, but I am just exhausted lately. I am not sleepy. I am wide awake. But I have no energy right now. Even though there are things I feel I need to do.
The best way to get around this is to make commitments that I have to meet. No excuses. So, on Saturday morning I will be volunteering to help organize an ultramarathon. I have to be at the Kinsmen, bright and early, at 6:30 AM.
That will teach my body to feel tired.

So, it is resolution time. And tradition demands I better myself. And I am a sucker for tradition. So what is my resolution?
I suppose I should look back to previous resolutions to see how I did on them. But it’s not like I write them down. Oh wait, I sort of do. I can look in old journal entries and see what I have said. For 2009, I wanted to reach out more to people. I wonder if I have done that? I also remember once asking people to tell me something good and something bad about me so I could learn what to improve and what I should keep doing. I don’t recall a lot of feedback from that. I assume my friends don’t feel comfortable criticizing.
In any case, this year’s resolution is mostly reflected by a Cracked column about how to be a better person. Sure, it is a comedy site, but it speaks wisely of things softened with comedy.
Essentially, I want to stop being a consumer. Not as in “stop shopping”; that would be crazy hippy-talk. I like buying things! How else do you keep score? 🙂 No, I want to stop consuming and start producing.
I want to be a creator. I want to stop being passive, and create things this year. At the very least, I will not passively read Facebook. I will actively let people know that I enjoy what they post, and not assume that they somehow know I’ve read what they have written.
I have projects that need to be done. I want to complete the manuscript index with my father and put it online. I should learn to play the guitar. I want to update my journal more often than the once a month it appears to have been lately. I suppose my first task should be to make a list of projects that I should attempt. No, scratch that! A list of projects I should finish.

And so ends Christmas. If you celebrate the eve.
My family, this year, made an announcement that they would not be giving presents. Instead, the plan was to give really good birthday presents. Which isn’t that bad, since all our birthdays are within two months of today.
I did not agree to this plan.
So, I stressed myself out and went shopping for the past week. I decided to go for quantity over quality; if I was the only one providing presents, it was important to have a lot under the tree. However, my family is hard to shop for.
I tried to ask innocent questions, like what they would like for their birthday. All I got from my father was “Peace and quiet”. But then he generally doesn’t want anything for his birthday but to be with the family. Basically, at Costco I grabbed anything that look somewhat plausible for a member of the family; chocolates and treats were my friend. I did the same at Southgate Mall. I tried to avoid clothes, because I have no fashion sense for myself, let alone another person.
Today, when no one was looking after dinner, I dumped my stash of contraband presents under the tree. (Smuggling them in was also a struggle.) When it was finally noticed, I tried to blame Santa, but I fooled no one.
So, while we watched the candles burn on the tree, I handed out presents. Apparently I did surprisingly well. Even dumb ornaments were appreciated.
I feel I have saved Christmas for my family.

Last Sunday was Auxiliary Turkey Night. The once a year tradition where I prove I can make a turkey. I had a grand total of 16 people. I even used a counter to keep track, because I am compulsive like that. Although I don’t know if should count the couple that showed up a day earlier because they had trouble reading email. They didn’t show on the day of the party, so I don’t think they count.
It was a stressful weekend getting everything ready. The food was one of the easier parts. I’m honestly wondering how people clean up without throwing a party. It is so much easier to focus on cleaning when there is the imminent threat of party-goers. The 20km run in the morning primed me for the meal; the skipping of lunch helped.
I would like to give a thank you to Rem, Sophie, and Sol for their help in the kitchen. And also to Alan, Rachelle, Michael and Sol for being nice enough to show up early and leave themselves open to being drafted to set the tables. And I was very happy to have been the target of a toast by Michael.
Thank you everyone.
There was a lot of food involved. The turkey was 11.5kg. This year it wasn’t a Butterball, and I’m not sure if it was as good. I think it got a little drier than I would have liked. The stuffing could have used a bit more cooking on the celery. Green beans were good. The waldorf salad came out perfectly. We finished the gravy. The cranberry sauce, I felt, was not as good as it could have been. The cake I whipped up with “frosteline” (as derided by people who read the ingredient list of the frosting and equated it, nutritionally, to vaseline) was amazingly popular.
It may sound like I am critical of my works, but that is because I can be. I made it, I can critique it. But, I think I did a very good job of feeding people and not poisoning them.
I would like to, one year, claim that I made everything. But I am still thankful that people brought desserts. I do not particularly care for mashed potatoes (I massively prefer stuffing) but it was nice of others to bring potatoes for the majority of people who do.
I’ll try and do better next year.

So I was told that if something is bothering me, I should journal it. The act of writing it out will take it off my mind. It doesn’t have to be public, but here we are.
I was at a party over the weekend, and photographs were taken. They’ve been posted onto Facebook. I’m in some of them, and there is one that is fantastic. Except my watch, my great big triathlon watch, is clearly visible and detracts from the awesomeness of the picture. Comments have been made that it destroys the shot.
I can’t argue with any of that. I should have taken it off before being in the pictures.
But the comments that bother me the most is people deriding the very concept of a watch. At a party I shouldn’t care what the time is. A cellphone is a replacement watch.
I feel I should address that… in this place where none of the commenters will read it. Just humour me.
I need to know the time and date. If I do not, I get antsy. Call it a time fetish if you will, but that is part of who I am. A cellphone is not a good replacement for several reasons. Firstly, it is not attached to my body, so it is far to easy to not have it next to you. Second, a cellphone needs to be turned on to display the time; a watch is specialized in always displaying the time.
Thank you for letting me get that out of my system.

I figure that today (well yesterday now) is the one day I’m allowed to be cranky. The whole, another year older thing, allows me that liberty.
Part of this may be due to a poor choice back in St. Patrick’s day.
I met a girl a year ago that was beautiful and had a lot of the same interests as myself. But, she had a boyfriend. However, they had broken up by March, and I attended a St. Patrick’s day get-together that she organized at a bar. This would have been a great time to ask her out. Except it was crystal clear that she was not ready to date. She was still emotionally damaged from the breakup. She needed time to get herself together. Trying to date someone that fragile would be wrong.
I found out yesterday that she has a boyfriend now. The other guy at the St. Patrick’s day party. The one who suggested going downtown to another bar by the time I was exhausted from socializing.
Obviously, I did the wrong thing. I should not have cared and just asked her out. Maybe I was just trying to find an excuse not to get rejected. But the fact of the matter is, he has a girlfriend now. I do not.

For eight years in a row, I went to Jamaica for the first week in November. I go with a group organized by one guy. However, the past three times I’ve gone, it has been disappointing. It hasn’t been bad, but it has gotten more expensive and nothing seems to improve. Still, I had a lot of friends that were great to see. I met a lot of good people over the years.
Since it was so disappointing three years ago, a splinter group formed. They weren’t trying to make money, but just get together with friends at a different place, and try and do it as cheaply as possible. They started going to the Dominican Republic. The first event was two years ago, and it was great. The latest one was two weeks ago, and I had a blast there. I was astounded at how many of the Jamaican people had also decided to go there instead. I’m almost expecting that the Jamaican event is going to have very few people.
Because, for the first time in eight years, I decided to give Jamaica a pass. The event is happening right now. Part of me is regretting not going. I see from some other friends a few pictures from the event. I don’t think there are many people there, but there are a few surprises.
The organizer never updated the event page with a list of who was going. If I had known, I might have changed my mind. Maybe it is for the best. Attending is a woman I knew from before, and even stayed with in L.A. back in April 2010, before I got hit by a lot of unexpected drama. It would be nice to see her again, but maybe it would be better if I never did again.
But you always wonder about these things.

I enjoy halloween parties. I like costumes. I like seeing other people in costumes.
I had plans for a party to go to last Saturday. However, on Friday, during my trip home, I discovered it had been cancelled. (The location had been double-booked.)
Which was probably for the best, because I got smacked by something on my vacation and I spent the entire weekend in bed, trying to sleep it off. I didn’t have the energy to go looking for a back-up party. I barely had energy to make a soup for dinner. I couldn’t even troll Whyte avenue to look at the costumes there.
By monday I could go back to work, but my GI was still bothering me. I am still not healthy. Strangely, I am exhausted and sleepy in the morning, (partially because of issues during the night) such that it is impossible to get out of bed. But as the day wears on, I get more awake. I’m feeling rather alert right now. But we’ll see how my stomach feels after getting some food in it.
But now it is halloween and it feels very unspecial to me. I think this is probably the most adult halloween I’ve ever had.

I asked for a window seat, but they gave me an aisle one instead. However, the aisle seat is in the exit row. So I have plenty of legroom. It isn’t like I’ll be looking out the window much anyway. I wonder if the ticketing agent thought I was charming? Mind you, she is the same one who collected me for the security check of my bag.
However, this plane is really cold. I am still dressed for the Caribbean.
It has just gotten really bumpy. I suspect that this has something to do with Hurricane Sandy, which I’m told is visible from one of the windows.
2012-10-26 16:25