This is Nymeria writing to you today. My servant, or “Ethel” as she asks you to call her, is otherwise indisposed this afternoon, and as such is unable to write her usual Monday post.
Are any of you familiar with the term brain melt?
Symptoms associated with this affliction often include stress, loss of sleep, fits of unstoppable laughter, and a much hindered ability to just roll with life’s little punches. I’m sure she is exhibiting a myriad of other signs, but my vocabulary is limited, and my aggressive cuddling regime has already calmed many of them.
So don’t fret too much.
I’ve seen her like get like this many times before in the time that we’ve shared a home together, and I’m happy to report that she has always managed to recover – and quickly at that.
(Also, let’s hope that she remembers to feed me on time tonight. Last night she was late by at least six minutes! It if hadn’t been for my continuous, obnoxious mewling at the food cupboard door, I’m not sure if it would have ever happened.)
Anyway, that’s neither here nor there.
Things should be back to their regularly scheduled program soon enough.
Now if you excuse me, there is a chair I need fur up.
It was the Hyack festival and parade today in New West.
After completing our morning training session, M and I sat out on sixth street and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the different cultural and community groups that are alive and kicking in our little city.
I really love going to parades, but for some reason I always have a really hard time not crying while I watch all the different floats and parties go by.
(I understand that this is really strange.)
I’m not sure exactly what it is, and like I said, I am the first to confirm just how weird this affliction of mine may be – it’s just that every time I find myself lining a parade route – BAM!
Like clockwork, I choke right up.
I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I cannot ever see a procession of elderly war veterans without getting a huge lump in my throat.
I immediately start to think of my granddad, and that folks, that just destroys me.
So you can imagine I was working extra hard to keep it together when these dudes walked by today:
I also have a HUGE thing for pipe bands, so the fact that I was treated to three different groups over the course of two hours – cor. I was happy as little Scottish clam.
No.1
No. 2
No. 3
Although, I have to say, nothing brings on the waterworks like the bagpipes.
I was a highland dancer for many, many years and nothing stirs my soul quite like ye olde cornemuse.
But I digress.
My favourite group was the Bangladeshi society who carried these absolutely beautiful bird puppets in their procession.
Check it:
I also met this guy:
The weather around these parts of late has been completely off the charts. I really, really hope it stays like this for a very long while.
All day today M and I bopped about our neighbourhood – walks down to the Quay for french fries (me) and beef brisket sandwiches (him); sushi down at the old Met hotel; wine and the NYT crossword out on our balcony; training runs in the park.
Oh, OH! I also bought a long (a little past knee length on me) forest green pleated skirt – actually, it is a skirt with a sheer pleated overlay – and believe me when I say that it is darling and a half.
I will wear it to work on Monday and be sure to take a snap to show off it’s gorgeosity (yes, I did make up that word, but I love it so moving on.)
I have been really quite stressed at work for the last little bit, and one giant project (it has been in the works since the beginning of February) is finally coming to a head at the end of next week. I cannot even begin to communicate how happy I will be to have closure on that part of my work year.
Today was a really nice way of putting my job on the back burner, if but for a little while. Though I cannot wait for the day when it will not even be on the stove (July baby, you are not coming quick enough!)
I hope you all have had a terrific first half of your weekend.
And that your stove tops remain clear of any employment related activities.
To round out a week full of travel-centric blog posts, I would like to share with you all a brief snap shot of Mr. M’s and my first few days in the magical city of Brum.
We lived in Birmingham for four months in 2009. I was on research leave for my MA, and M, being a Swiss citizen, was working as a language teacher at a community school, teaching ESL to young Afghani asylum seekers.
Here is a journal entry I wrote at 12:55 am because I couldn’t sleep due to my excitement yes, but also because I had an irrational fear that my landlady’s estranged husband (who also lived in the house) would murder us in our sleep:
I cannot even begin to communicate the hilarity that is M’s and my life here in Birmingham. We are enamoured with the city and its many eccentric but loveable inhabitants, impressed with its Balti and other culinary delights, frustrated with our “washing machine”, flabbergasted at the extremely cheap grocery prices, and proud of the fact that we turned an absolute dive into something that vaguely resembles a home.
Home sweet Brummy home!
Our travel to the city was a gong show and a half, what with the airline deciding to add stops in both Calgary and Dublin at the last minute, and then charging most passengers between four and nine hundred dollars at check-in because their luggage was overweight.
There was more than a little anger brewing at the Fly Globe Span counters (worst airline in the world – copyright 2009) let me tell you. Luckily, I am a neurotic and anxiety-ridden individual and had already checked the allowances online, so we were in the clear.
Once we arrived in London we decided to take the bus to B town (or Brum, or Birmingham if you’re not into the whole Brevity thing) and not the train, which was a HUGE mistake, albeit much cheaper than the alternative.
The ride ended up taking about four and a half bloody hours.
I spent the time dozing under a pile of jackets because the air conditioning was set to arctic chill MAX, and I apparently have ZERO ability to cope with the cold, while M befriended a six hundred year old man who somehow didn’t succumb to the drop in temperature and die in his seat.
(I should have asked what his secret was.)
Anywho, we managed to finally get to our hotel (the glorious Etap Hotel, that may or may not moonlight as an elderly homosexual pick up joint) and fall into bed.
The next day we set out in search of a place to live and a cell phone plan. Once this (the plan) was procured, we needed to get our Canadian phone unlocked, which led to our first introduction to the Birmingham market, which we LOVE. We’re sure it’s the place where we’ll get most of our fruit and veg and any odd bits that we need.
Market! Well, just down the hill at least.
We then set off for the library in hopes of getting internet access to only learn that THERE IS ABSOLUTELY ZERO FREE WIRELESS IN ENGLAND SERIOUSLY THE INTERNET IS NO WHERE TO BE FOUND.
Why no internet UK?
Eventually we managed to find a connection and slowly began to contact potential landlords.
M was a bit flabbergasted when it came to actually talking to people on the phone and he kept telling me (while the person was still on the line, yammering away), “I can’t understand anything these people are saying!”
The Brummy accent folks, is truly something to behold.
When one woman asked him if he was a student he responded with “okay” to which she just said “okay?”
Believe me when I say the laugh attack that I had been suppressing since our arrival in the city was unleashed with full force.
The first guy we met was a complete jerk. He showed up twenty-five minutes late, did not say hello, and then mumbled that it was “six months minimum” before just walking back up to his car!
What an arsehole.
After this encounter, we were lucky enough to meet Sue – our now landlord. (Though we did have to walk over 10km in order to get to her place.)
No word of a lie though, the place was a total crap box when we arrived. However, we’ve cleaned like maniacs, and M has put up a ton of paintings that Sue gave us, a coat and towel rack, the bed has new bedding ,and we’ve been given a small tv with tons of vhs tapes.
After a day committed to making our home, well, livable, we bussed to Moseley – a very radtastic area of the city – for dinner and drinks. Once again I was reminded about how much I still hate beer, but seriously the chips here are MAGNIFICENT.
Curry and chips!
Also, this is completely off topic, but if one more person calls me “love” I am seriously going to have to have a sit down, because it DESTROYS me.
Further, I have also now come to realize that “You okay?” doesn’t mean “Are you damaged?” but is more of an expression of helpfulness. This is very good to know because people say this to me A LOT.
Up here in the Great White North (GWN) it’s the Victoria day long-weekend. You see, us Canadians have never been able to fully quit the British monarchy, and as such, the Queen’s mug is plastered all over our currency, we get to compete in the Commonwealth games, and we are gifted an extra day off every year, always around this time.
I’m no fan of the English royal family by any stretch, but when it comes to statutory holidays, I’ll take it.
Tomorrow is Mr. M’s birthday and we will be up to many a shenanigan to celebrate this auspicious occasion.
I am so excited to give him his gift, I’ve been asking him almost everyday for a week if he wants to open it early.
(I’m really crap at waiting for others to open their presents. Usually I try to coerce them into doing so immediately after I have purchased the gift. Seriously I am the absolute worst. I don’t know how many times I’ve bullied M into opening things before the actual occasion. In my defense, I’m just going to state that can get really excited, okay?)
This time however, he’s fought back hard, so it will be tomorrow morning that he’ll finally get to see what I got him.
In the meantime, we’ve been out and about all day soaking up the sunshine.
This morning after we completed our compulsory tough mudder training, we glammed ourselves up and walked down to the quay for some brunch time crepes.
Phew, and what a week it has been. Thirteen hour days, volunteer gigs, tears, runs, blisters, beauty cats – and heading into next week, I’m just going to do it all over again.
Do what exactly, you may ask?
The same thing we do every night Pinky…try to take over the world!!!
Because it’s the end of the week, and I am so very excited for the (long!) weekend, I figured it was time to bring back the ol’ Friday Fry-up.
First on the docket:
Street food.
Simply put, I cannot get enough. Although I really try to bring my lunch every day to work, there is only so many days a girl can survive on nutella-almond butter sandwiches (this week was a little bleak in terms of foodstuffs available at the homestead. I am glad to report, however, that to balance this out I ate oatmeal everyday for breakfast, as well as at least two fruits over the course of the work day.)
I wrote earlier about all the great new joints popping up around the downtown core, and it’s nice to try out a different one every now and then.
But there are some days where the only thing I can think about is getting my little mitts on a tofu hotdog, slathered in fried onions, bbq sauce, ketchup, and mustard.
And today, my darlings, was one of those exact days.
I needed to get out of the office, stretch my legs, and spend some time in the sunshine, all alone – on my own.
I walked over to the law courts, purchased my dog, and sat down in my own little sun-soaked spot.
Nom.
Bliss.
Also, it is weird that as much as I love the hotdog itself, my favourite part of this meal is the two last bites – bites that are nothing save for the bun, the onions, and the condiments (that have all mixed together to form a orangey-yellow super sauce?)
Da best part.
Or is that just me?
Either way, it was fab. And amazingly enough, I didn’t spill a drop on my dress.
Look ma! No dry cleaning bill!
Second on the docket:
These ads from Aldo.
Barf.
First, let me preface this by saying that I pretty much despise Aldo and never shop there. Their shoes are totally overpriced, and the quality absolute shite.
Plus there is nothing remarkable about the styles they offer. Everything is boring and bland.
So when I see something like this, well, don’t colour me surprised:
Double barf.
Colour me bored and scornful.
Aren’t we over this trope already, or what?
I mean, if we’re going to keep pumping out ridiculous and sexist advertising campaigns, can’t we get something a little original?
For heaven’s sake, just have a vagina wearing the shoes (hell, have a vagina eating a popsiclewearing the shoes, for all I care) and get it over with.
Because the whole banana/iced treat as phallic symbol is old as dirt and twice as stupid.
(Or, you know, if you want to be totally off the charts risqué, just rely on quality products to increase sales, and have your marketing campaign revolve around your merchandise – a radical thought, I know.)
In the meantime, I won’t hold my breath.
Third on the docket:
I CANNOT stop buying clothes.
Okay, that’s a big of an overstatement. I’m not exactly out on a bender, slinking about outlet malls and breaking open my bank account.
However, over the last month I’ve purchased two dresses!
TWO!
Good grief. That’s one less than I purchased all of last year.
Just typing these words, I feel as though I need qualify and explain how cheap the items were, but then another part of me starts shouting WHO CARES STOP IT YOU WORK HARD ENJOY IT LOVE IT.
Today at lunch I ventured to H&M (holy crappola, this place is like my fricken Brokeback Mountain – for serious, WHY CAN’T I QUIT YOU!?) and tried on a couple of dresses.
I feel as though these past few days I’ve been oscillating wildly back and forth between über feminine and über masculine looks. For instance, yesterday I work skinny-legged men’s dress pants, a man’s sweater, collared shirt and tie, and today I wore this:
And then I tried on this:
Jewel tones FTW.
Which actually has a ridiculously cute bow on the right shoulder:
Bow!
And then I tried on this:
Love me some spots.
Dudes. It’s a lady-bug dress!!
(Okay, not really. But that’s what it makes me feel like.)
In the end, I wound up purchasing both, but got the first one in black.
(For a very, very low – combined – price.)
STOP IT ETHEL! MOVE ON.
So there you have it folks: Food, fashion, and fallacies (otherwise known as the world of advertising.)
What are your favourite street foods? Have you bought yourself anything nice of late?
Put your feet up, pour yourself a cold drink, and tell me all about it.
Rant and Roll 