Vanessa Woznow

It was a beautiful day, the sun beat down

So not this past weekend, but the weekend before, forty-nine robbers came knocking at my door.

Um.

No.

That didn’t happen. (But does anyone else remember that rhyme? I did some mean double-dutch to that bad boy all throughout my grade two year – you know, when I wasn’t chowing down on eggos and drinking Labatt Blue that is.)

I asked them what they wanted, and this is what they said – Spanish lady go like this! Spanish lady do the twist! Spanish lady touch the ground! Spanish lady turn around! Spanish lady jump once more! Spanish lady out the door! [at this point you had to run out of the rope circle. This was always the hardest part of double-dutch. It’s crazy difficult to run in or out of the circle with two ropes going! Also, why Spanish lady? I HAVE NO CLUE.]

But I digress.

Two weekends ago, I over did it a little bit with the training. M and I ran a long run, filled with hills and sprints, before ending up at the circuit track at Queen’s park. The monkey bars were slick with rain, and as I worked my was across I slipped halfway and twinged something in my right bicep.

Of course, because I cannot ever leave well enough alone, the next day I ran a seven kilometer “recovery” run.

By the end I was completely and utterly knackered.

CIMG8400 - Copy — This is my “I am exhausted face”. Separate incidents though.

Things hurt. Things that don’t normally ever hurt, HURT A LOT.

I was done.

So for the next five days I didn’t do anything – no running, training, weight lifting, or core work.

I even went for a 30 minute massage on Monday after work.

And it was pretty awesome. I got to come home, cook food, write, read, watch Damages (if you are not watching this show YOU MUST SERIOUSLY START NOW), and hang out with Ms. Nymeria and Mr. M.

2012-04-28 21.20.34 - Copy — Date night. Yowza!

In all honesty, it was actually a little shocking how much extra time I had in the evenings, not lugging myself to the gym two or three nights after work – especially on the days when I would usually be rushing to the gym, rushing back home, rushing into the shower, and then rushing out the door for my volunteer commitments.

I’m certainly not going to give up my regular scheduled program (because at the root of it, I really like it) – but it’s good to know that when push comes to shove, and my body is telling me to rest up, I can, and I will.

And I did.

After five days however, I was revved up, ready to run.

This past Saturday I was practically giddy as I got ready to get out of the door and out into the sunshine.

And let me tell you, that week of rest did my body a world of good.

I had an absolutely stellar run, and I killed it on the circuit.

The loop at Queen’s park is about 2.5 km, and very hilly. I ran it three times. In between each lap I would head to the circuit where I would do one set of monkey bars (I felt like I really was a monkey – I made it across each time no problem. I could not believe it!), twenty push-ups, and ten box jumps.

At the end of my run, I did three sets of sprints – 1 minute as fast as I could.

And as I made my way home, I felt as though I was flying.

Over the last few hundred meters back to my house, a couple of tears leaked out of the far corner of my left eye.

Not from exhaustion, but from exhilaration.

I was on fire.

(Maybe that’s why I was crying – to put out the flames.)

I do, however, have some pretty brutal blisters on my hands from those accursed monkey bars. Check it:

Urg.

But even sore hands couldn’t keep me still for long.

The next day, Sunday, I set out once more, and my legs propelled me through another absolutely smashing run. The sun’s rays burned bright, but not too hot – the green of the park’s trees, so lush and ethereal, while the sky burned a white opal, sapphire blue.

It’s moments like that were I truly believe that my body is capable of anything.

As long as I listen to it, it will tell me when it’s ready.

And goodness knows, beware to anyone standing in our way.

…

Post script – I just received one of the most hilarious and completely incoherent spam comments of all time. It reads: Good afternoon fellow , probably fire a torpedo from grace is increasingly cumbersome due to the restricted set of telephone operators.

“Firing a torpedo from grace” is now what I’m calling my tough mudder training. Boo yeah.

Stock Footage

Hey you beauty cats –

I hope your Saturday and Sunday were lemon scented, and awash in sunshine.

Here are a few snaps from the boogie-fest that has been underway in our neck of the woods:

Dinner.

IMG_0723 - Copy — Spinach salad with fresh chèvre, blackberries, red onion, satsuma, and chopped walnuts. Vinaigrette.

Hail storm.

IMG_0733 - Copy — Hail the size of pennies. Thunder and lightening just off of our porch.

Cat.

IMG_0677 - Copy — Staring contest + pine mustache.

Super moon.

Dog friends.

Adventure:

IMG_0749 - Copy — Stepping into the unknown. Or my courtyard. (One and the same.)

Cat, redux.

Weekends just seem to fly by! But seeing as though I seemed to have blinked somewhere in mid-February and here we are the start of May, this doesn’t seem to be an isolated phenomenon.

The next month is going to be absolute madness in terms of work and other commitments, but as soon as we get into the meat of June, Mr. M and I can look forward to some adventuring of our own.

We have some pretty nifty ideas for both July and August – it’s just a matter of finding the time to sit down and plan things out.

I am so, so excited.

What did you all get up to this weekend? Any travel plans on the table?

I want to hear about all about them.

Smoking, or non?

I did a lot of crazy stuff as a kid.

(This probably shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of you.)

In grade two, Ms. Nolan (full disclosure: I LOVED HER) asked us to bring in props for our “class store.” We were going to learn how to add and subtract integers through the purchase of goods on sale in our shop.

The student buying the products would have to add up the price of their groceries, while the cashier would have to calculate the correct change owed.

As a class, we were darned excited about this math unit.

Now, other kids brought in cereal boxes, soup cans (that had been – responsibly – cleaned and dried), kraft dinner packages, and egg cartons.

And what, you may be asking yourselves, did young Ethel bring to the project?

A jumbo box of Eggo waffles and an (empty, thank goodness) twelve-pack of Labatt Blue.

That’s class with a K right there folks.

For all you non-Canucks out there, LB is a kind of beer. And a pretty bad beer at that. (Actually, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t even exist anymore.)

Ms. Nolan must have been pretty flabbergasted, especially because our grade four buddies had come down to help us set up shop (literally) and bunch of them were play-acting drunk, slurring their words and taking pretend swigs from the bottles.

Needless to say, most of my props went home with me that day.

Though the Eggos stayed.

Flash-forward to grade five. We had a student teacher named Michael, who was wonderful and completely lovely.

He was patient and soft-spoken, was always excited and dressed really well.

(In my memory he’s about fifty-nine, but in reality the guy couldn’t have been older than twenty-six.)

And as a class, we used to make him sweat like long-tailed cat in a room filled with rocking chairs.

And I, I was a chief culprit of this stress (though not of my own volition or intention.)

Like I said, I just did weird stuff!

Case in point:

One of the assignments he got us involved with was a cross-Canada anti-smoking campaign, which was also a competition to see who, out of all the elementary students across the country, could create the best anti-smoking poster and catch phrase.

In order to participate, you had to finish the sentence: “If you smoke – …”

I’ll never forget the winner from the previous year, because my ten year old self thought it was absolutely freaking brilliant, and the poster looked like it had been drawn by a professional artist.

The winning poster read:

If you smoke, you’ll be hooked!

The accompanying picture was that of a really sad killer whale being fish-hooked by an evil (and obviously soulless) smoking henchman.

Aha, I thought to myself. This was what we had to live up to!

So what did I pull together you might ask? Did all my hard work ensure my victory?

Well, I’ll let you decide for yourself.

My slogan was: If you smoke, you’re just a butt!

Genius, right?

I mean, who would want to do anything that reminded them of bums? No one, that’s who!

My poster, while a little avant-garde, was sure to wow the judges.

This is (a recreation of) what I drew:

IMG-20120504-00076 — That’s a border of cigarette butts by the way.

Needless to say, I think Michael may have had a heart attack when he saw this.

He kindly let me know that there was no way, not for all the tea in China, that he was letting me send in a poster that depicted a bare ass smoking a cigarette.

I fought back hard.

Couldn’t he see how much effort I had put into it? Yes he could, he told me. Couldn’t he see where I was coming from? Yes he could, he told me. Didn’t he like my border of cigarette butts? Yes he did, he told me. Didn’t he think that the thought of putting your mouth on a bum would make kids not want to ever smoke a single cigarette in their entire life? Yes he did, he told me.

At this point I remember his face getting really red – not from anger I’m sure – but more from the fact that if he didn’t laugh soon, his entire head would explode.

In the end, I received an A on the project and I got to keep my slogan, but I had to go home that night and make a new poster.

So this was the one I sent into the competition:

(The stars are the cigarette butts – I was too lazy to draw them out again.)

Needless to say, I didn’t win.

But hey, it wasn’t a total wash. In fact, looking on the bright side, I don’t smoke, and if I ever hear someone say that a person has a “smoking ass” – well – only I know the real truth of the matter.

But like I said, crazy stuff guys.

CRAZY STUFF.

I’ve found a driver and that’s a start

Happy Wednesday you winsome and wonderful weirdos! I don’t know what I’d do without you.

So here are five things that make my little heart smile:

Lunch dates with my rad mates.

On Tuesday Ms. A, Ms J. (good grief, do I sound like Tyra Banks?), and I had lunch at one of Vancouver’s newer food carts – Mom’s Grilled Cheese.

These roaming food wagons are getting more and more prevalent – especially around the downtown core where we work – and offer a huge amount of choice in terms of menu options.

It’s not just chili cheese dogs and cans of coke anymore, folks.

You can get Vietnamese subs, shawarma, Asian-fusion, Ukrainian pierogies (who knew that spell check doesn’t know what a pierogi is!?), pulled-pork sandwiches, BBQ – seriously the list, like Rip van Winkle’s beard, grows ever long.

(Man, I can’t believe that the most hip facial hair reference I could think of is a make-believe dude who slept a lot!)

Yeesh.

Anywho, grilled cheese was eaten; grilled cheese was loved.

IMG-20120501-00066 — SO blinkin’ good! And they give you a pickle!

By all three us.

I ordered Swiss with tomato on multi-grain.

Cor. Absolutely delicious that was. If you ever visit the truck, and you’re wracked by indecision – give that a go.

You won’t be disappointed.

Trying on pretty pretties.

Today at lunch I bopped about the usual circuit (Vancity’s downtown/shopping business district) with the usual suspects (Ms. J + friends) and I tried on this dress:

IMG-20120502-00073 — This dress made me feel like the queen of hearts.

And then this one:

IMG-20120502-00071 — All aboard the covered wagon dears!

It’s funny, because in the store I felt like I was veering towards the red (I didn’t buy either) – but now that I’m looking at these photos, I’m particularly drawn to the white.

When it was on me, I thought I looked super “Little House on the Prairie”, but now I’m thinking more along the lines of “Pilgrim chic.”

I’m not sure – I’m turning over the issue to the experts.

(aka YOU!)

Either way, it’s always fun when you have someone with whom you can motor, who also is game to play dress up in the middle of your work day.

It’s a great way unwind, albeit briefly.

Plus it gives you the chance to say things like, “does this look like a giant bedazzled compression sock?”

IMG-20120502-00070 — Just. Not good…plus the jeans made me look like a headbanger-carney!

To which the answer is always, yes.

Yes it does.

Tulips.

Spring means many things here in Lotus Land.

It heralds the arrival of the chickadee dee dees – and other bird friends – who have recently returned from their tropical, winter sojourn. You can hear them in the morning as you draw back the blinds, or the moment you step out your front door as you leave for work.

It also means a boat load of rain – but I don’t want to write about.

I want to write about all the amazing tulips that have sprouted everywhere! Their colours are so rich and vibrant, I can practically feel my heart swelling inside my chest every time I see them.

IMG-20120426-00058 — Tulips make my two lips SMILE!

I also have tricky fingers and want to pick all of them, so I have to walk by quickly, for fear of snatching them all to myself.

(And therefore also the police. I fear them too.)

Nail polish.

I don’t paint my fingernails all too often. So when I do, I always feel as though I’ve accomplished something pretty cool.

In fact, I’m always a little startled that no one presents me with a plaque to mark the occasion.

The other night, as M and I sat in front of the fire (yes! A fire at the beginning of May! I am just as appalled as you are!) I painted my nails a sort of aubergine-maroon colour.

It was Professor Plum, in the car, with M’s camera.

And I like it!

A lot.

(Way more than I do the idea of a fire in May that’s for darned sure.)

Tina Fey.

I just finished reading Bossypants and boy did I ever enjoy it. The lovely Emily of Well Fed, Flat Broke lent me her copy and I pretty much hovered it up over the last two days.

Ms. Fey is hilarious.

There were pages that just kept me laughing non-stop. It was also nice to read about a woman with whom I really identify.

We’re not the same person by any stretch of the imagination, but so much of what she writes about, I found myself nodding along, feeling like I could relate to much of what she was talking about.

(Except of course working at a bleak-as-hell YMCA in Chicago during the early 1990s. Of that I have little knowledge or experience.)

I also have a massive crush on her and Amy Poehler’s friendship. Is that possible? Can you covet a best friendship?

Memo to all my real-life friends: Get cooler. And fast.

(I kid, I kid. If you were any cooler, you’d all be ice cold.*)

*In my mind I sound like Arnold Schwarzenegger when I say that.

Yikes! I must get back on track. SO – if you’re thinking of picking up the book, do it, do it!

You won’t regret it.

Unless of course your name rhymes with Parah Salin. Then, maybe, stay away.

…

So there you have it, you wacko beauty cats! Five things that bring me the lolz and smiles.

I hope they could bring you some too.

Don’t stand. Don’t stand so close to me.

So after all that writing about tofu, I realized I had a great desire to wok and roll. Indeed folks, the time was nigh to whip up a classic tofu stir-fry for Mr. M and I.

It’s been such a crazy start to the week – in fact, I cannot believe that today is only Tuesday – and I wanted something healthy, and tasty, and that I could put together with my eyes closed.

And since I wasn’t too keen on the idea of eating banana bread for dinner (only because I ate half of a lemon meringue pie for my supper last night), stir-fry it was.

À la tofu.

This morning, while riding skytrain, I did two things – two things that can be perfectly summed up by just one word:

Mortification.

Holy doodle, it’s a boon and a half that I don’t embarrass easily.

First, I was SO into my crossword that I actually drooled onto my paper.

Or maybe it got on my purse – I’m not sure.

And although it wasn’t a ton of drool, and I desperately tried to keep it in, once I realized that I was leaking from my mouth – alas.

To no avail.

I’m pretty sure the girl sitting to my right was busting a gut for all of Canada, because the seat was vibrating pretty steadily for the next ten minutes.

(The fact that I too was laughing my face off could also have something to do with this.)

I couldn’t look up for the life of me, for fear that I would make eye contact with someone else who had espied my errant behavior because this would have undoubtedly propelled me into the most epic case of the “laughs” ever recorded in the history of the world, from which, I’m sure, I would never have recovered.

Then, about five minutes later (although in my completely cracked mind it seemed like these events happened simultaneously) my umbrella got loose from where it was resting between my knees.

I watched it fall in almost slow motion – although again in real life it was moving at quite a clip.

(This along with its steep angle of trajectory alarmed me.)

It kept tumbling forward, before making contact with the the legs (or you know, bum cheeks) of the man standing in front of me, only to come to rest, wedged in his crotchular area.

This, in the parlance of our times was very, very awkward.

Like, the most ever.

EVER.

The look he gave me may have taken years off of my life.

Good thing all that laughing just piles them back on.

So there you have it. My Tuesday started out on a high point, hilarity-wise, and will end on an equally stellar note, health and taste-wise.

And knowing M and I – there will be a ton more laughs too.

Let’s get down to business:

Chop it!

These colours - in whatever form I find them in - always make me smile.

Wok it!

I really appreciate to no end the number of puns you can create with the word wok.

Sauce it!

Add spinach:

But seriously, add more:

Like you mowed the lawn and then made a meal out of the clippings!

For a brilliant, final result of:

Multi-coloured noms! The best kind (but also lemon meringue pie.)

So there you have it folks – tofu stir-fry for the skytrain rider’s soul.

How were your Tuesdays? Anything crazy happen around your parts?

I would really, really love to hear about it.