Category — rants

I learned this past weekend that I am not the least bit graceful. Like, at all.

Spastic Things I Did This Weekend:

1. Burned my finger on the side of the slow cooker.

The Universe was warning me, but I very foolishly ignored it – a few hours later, I did the following:

2. Spilled the contents of a fresh and full glass of iced tea directly into the vent of my new PC.

This is what happens when you play World of Warcraft on your weeks old PC and get too excited. I gestured wildly at another player, who cannot see or hear the real me, because he had the effrontery to ride his gargantuan dinosaur into Undercity and cut off my view such that I fell off a staircase. This gesture connected solidly with a full glass of iced tea and sent it pouring directly into the air vent of my new PC.

I pushed my chair back, swore impressively, and threw myself at the PC (smartly tipping it to the side to avoid more iced tea getting in) while madly unplugging it.

Joe and I blotted the video card dry, dried the inside of the casing and the fans and decided to let it take some air for awhile.

3. Covered my feet in shattered glass.

After we’d mopped up most of the iced tea we remembered that the table I use as a desk has a leaf that would extend directly over the PC; thus protecting it from future acts of stupidity. In order to extend the leaf we needed an inch more of space to move it forward and then up and back into place.

The bookcase next to the table was blocking us a bit, so I decided to wiggle it forward by degrees. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to check for objects that might fall on my head.

A small glass candle holder that we kept our Bic lighters in (the cool ones with long stem thingies so you don’t set your hands on fire lighting tea lights) fell from the shelf mid-wiggle, bounced off my shoulder, and smashed rather spectacularly all over the tile floor.

At this point, I am standing directly in a puddle of shattered glass and iced tea that we missed in the initial cleanup; plus completely soaked pants, shirt and sweater (from the iced tea mishap).

I decided pretty quickly that whole situation was actually pretty funny and laughed my fool head off while Joe rolled his eyes and got the broom.

I have never, ever, spilled anything on any computer ever. What better way to remedy that than to spill an entire glass of iced tea into my first ever new PC.

Lucky for me, the PC dried OK and everything still works fine.

I found the last of the glass slivers this evening several feet away from the crash site and got to it before I stepped on it. I also had a very good day at work.

I might be the Universe’s bitch, but sometimes, she throws some good luck my way.

My Grandad passed away on May 4th.

I still have no idea what to write.

What stories can I tell about George Clements that will convey a clear and accurate picture of him?

There are the obvious things: he was an incredibly talented stone mason, he had a wonderfully dry sense of humour, he could be quite a stubborn smarty pants, he was generous, kind, handsome, a great whistler and stone skipper, built the best fires ever and grilled a mean hamburger.

He also taught me that no one is going to just let me win, I’d have to earn it (playing Battleship with Grandad was a sure-fire way to prove that however clever you thought you were – he’s far more clever). I learned that listening is a lot more useful than talking, paying good money for good things is smarter than paying a little money for cheap garbage and that honour and manners still matter.

But none of these things really convey the whole picture either.

Maybe it’s enough that I have the good fortune to be his granddaughter. You don’t get to choose your family, but I would have chosen him had I not been born to the right family.

I’m looking at a great picture of Grandad on the beach: he is looking up, eyes narrowed a little against the sun, just beginning to smile up at my aunt (and what you can’t see is the rusty little dinky car he’d found and offered her) with the waves just coming in on the shoreline.

That picture is my Grandad – it’s the perfect picture – relaxed, happy and just wandering along the shore of the beach looking for interesting things.

If there is a heaven, I hope that’s what he’s doing now.

For me at least, there is no goodbye, because I’ll always remember and I like to think I’ve learned enough from him to carry it with me into the world.

Are all of these words inadequate? You bet they are – but I’m not sure what else to say.

Valentine’s Day is coming up soon and I was curious about its origins. My Google-fu was strong today so I have a few possibilities to list about this day of love and romance:

• We’re celebrating a martyred priest, a dead bishop and a guy martyred in Africa (all on February 14).
• We’re celebrating the martyred priest only (beaten, stoned and beheaded for refusing to renounce his faith).
• We celebrate the St. Valentine who was apparently so heartbroken after getting dumped by his mistress, he cut his own heart out and sent it to her.
• We’re celebrating the wrong St. Valentine altogether (there are five others which are not commonly celebrated).

Of course, most of us celebrate Valentine’s Day the way they did in Geoffrey Chaucer’s time when courtly love was as its peak – a day of romantic love, poetry, expensive gifts and possibly wedding proposals; not that I can find anything romantic about self-mutilation, stonings, beatings and beheadings.

If nothing else, our modern way of celebrating St. Valentine’s Day gives everyone at least one day of the year to feel special, loved and appreciated by their partners.

Yet, every year I feel slightly nauseated at the sight of the shiny red hearts and cute, plush kissy-face critters on sale at the local Hallmark stores. I am annoyed by the number of signs implying that if don’t buy Joe something really amazing, then there is a chance he’ll think I don’t care.

Thank goodness Joe dislikes Valentine’s Day more than I do!

We do exchange cards and sometimes I even get him gummy bears – but that’s it. No fancy dinner out, no diamond ring in the champagne or other Grand Gesture. Nothing that distinguishes this day as more important than any other in our relationship.

We tend to pick out little gifts all year long; a book, candy, a video game or silly card. We show our appreciation for each other everyday. Small gestures like a genuine “I love you” or taking care of a chore the other despises so the other one can play a video game instead. Those small things add up throughout the year so that Valentine’s Day has become just another scheme to make me part ways with extravagant amounts of money on cutesy stuff that will end up on a donation pile within six months (or less).

I never thought that cynicism could be born out of feeling incredibly lucky – but there it is: I’m incredibly lucky to have someone who shows his feelings for me everyday without all the fanfare and soppy drivel that usually accompanies Valentine’s Day.

Happy Wednesday Joe – I love you.