Not enough time

I have a lot of dreams about work. I don't know why, but my students (both past and present) and coworkers seem to pop up in my dreams on a regular basis.

But this weekend I had my first dream that involved my future family. I think it was a combination of 3 facts: (1) there have been a number of "family birthday gatherings" in February, (2) Darren's and my great apartment search has officially begun and (3) I had just shown the movie Cool Runnings to my class on Friday. Let me describe the dream.

The scene is an island somewhere in the tropics.

Darren's sister-in-law and I were walking out of a house (presumably his parents') in which we had just finished a meal. "We" in this case means Darren's immediate family. Now, I don't actually remember seeing all of the members of th is group in my dream, but I knew they were there nonetheless (you know how dreams can be.)

Apparantly Darren and I were looking for a house to buy, but at this moment Christy (that's Darren's sister-in-law) and I were just walking. We stopped at a little vendor shop and without exchanging a single word, the desired package was handed to her and the money for it was handed back. Then they struck up a conversation like you might with a good friend. I thought we were simply stopping at a random shop.

Then we continued on our way and Christy pointed to a house and said, "You should buy that one." Here's the rest of the dialogue:

Larissa: I wonder how much it is.
Christy: It's got to be reasonable if it's on this street.
Larissa: Can I ask how much you paid for yours? (Apparantly Chris and Christy - yes, Darren's brother and his wife have pretty much the same name. One of their cousins thinks that's very courteous so they have less names to remember - own a house just down the street)
Christy: Practically nothing. Chris built it. It's not hard, if you have the time.

My immediate response was, "We don't have the time." At that comment Christy and I exchanged knowing looks and the conversation ended.

You see, time was not an issue for us, but because I knew that neither Darren nor I had the knowledge or skills to build a house...even a simple one made entirely of concrete. That's not to say we're skill-less; give us a month and we'll be bartering with the locals in their language.

But building a house is best left to professionals and those who read technical manuals for fun.

The invitations are coming

Vellum, what a funny word, but I know what it is...now.

I'm getting married in less than 3 months. Darren and I have slowly been getting things arranged. We've got a hall, church, attire, limo...but no guests. That is, we haven't invited anyone yet. So my task over the spring break, which incidently is next week, is to make invitations.

To that end, my friend Chrissy and I got together on Monday afternoon with an agenda: figure out what to do and how to do it, in terms of getting invitaitons put together.

There are so many possibilities when it comes to making invitations. That's bad for a terrible decision-maker like me. Darren's only input was, "Make it look like our reception: elegant and simple." (gee, thanks. As if I would 'ok' something gaudy or busy?)

So we went to a fabulous little store that sells custom rubber stamps and card-making supplies. The couple who runs it was so helpful and patient with me, a novice. I learned how to weave a ribbon so as to avoid tying a bow, how to invisibly adhere transluscent materials and what vellum is. I now feel prepared to get right at it...next week.

Thanks Chrissy, and thanks Duffy's.

Olympic confusion

I just discovered that the Olympics are on. Let me clarify that: The fact that the Olympics are on has just made a difference in my life.

I haven't been keeping up with the lastest from Torino. This is partly due to the fact that I don't have my TV on much of the time, and partly due to the fact that I simply am not crazy for the Games.

For the past few years, the Olympics haven't been sitting well with me. There's just something about them that bothers me. I'm not sure that I can explain, but it has to do with the general population claiming victory or loss for individual achievement.

I hear commentators talking about how a 4th place finish is a let down to Canada and that "we" should have placed in such-and-such a sport today. Who is this "we"? How is the failure of an athlete who worked for years (granted, with some financial support from "us") disgracing the country? Is that athlete trying to win a medal so he can show how great Canada is? Isn't it more likely that he's doing it for himself?

I don't understand why is it that no one (and by no one I mean the general population) cares at all about obscure sports like skeleton and speed skating until an event like this and then all of a sudden claim victory thr0ugh them. OK, what I actually don't understand is why this is considered normal. I know there are fairweather friends in all areas of sporting, (I will watch the NHL playoffs, for example, but not the regular season play) but can they really speak of victories or losses in the first person? I say no.

I don't really mind the international competition aspect of the Games - you know, the idea that countries are competing against each other in order to show their "supremacy". You'll notice that I never rant about the World Cup or World Hockey Championships - probably because such competitions involve only one sport and it's more likely that the folks who stop everything to watch are people who follow that single, well-televised sport year-round.

Don't get me wrong: I like the idea that the Olympics are televised so people can watch their friends, family or even acquaintances compete. I even like that fans of a particular sport can watch how the international competition is progressing. My problem comes when somehow, magically, I am in 5th place in terms of number of medals or I have had a disappointing day on the slopes. I'm not even competing!

Having said that, I did enjoy watching the glimpses into the women's figure skating competition that were shown on CBC this afternoon and I checked the score of the hockey game each time I walked past the library at work where the Olympic coverage is being broadcasted all day long. See? I'm not a complete humbug.


As an aside: Today's post on Darren's blog gives a whole new meaning to urine tasting...I mean...testing.

Sleeping is not always restful

Dreaming is exhausting!

Thrice in the recent past I've woken up tired. It's not because I didn't get enough sleep; I went to bed at a good time in both instances. The problem is that I had very long, intense dreams that seemed to use up my daytime energy.

The most vivid of these experiences was about a week ago. In my dream I was in a parking lot and witnessed a man drive away, leaving behind a credit card-looking pass that would allow me access into the parking lot at U of T. I proceeded to complete a number of sneaky events before I realized that I had to get the card back before the owner returned for it. But many obstacles presented themselves. (The details are a little foggy now...this was a week ago!) In the end it was revealed to me that the entire thing was a set-up by some people who wanted to kill that man. I woke up angry and embarrassed for being duped.

The first of this series of exhausting dreams involved my meeting a co-worker of mine in a mall with her two children and boyfriend. This dream took us to a number of locations in which much dialogue was exchanged, while all the time the question was burning in the background: "What happened to her husband?" I woke up concerned for the wellbeing of this family that I like so much.

The most emotionally tuckering of these dreams came most recently and - can you believe it!?! - I can't remember what happened. I have no frame of reference for the dream at all, but I do know that I woke up thinking, "If this keeps going on, I'm going to have to stay awake all night in order to have the energy to make it through my day!"

I know science will disagree with me (aren't dreams only fragments of seconds long, for starters?) but I know how I feel...regardless of how it actually works. I'm not sorry that I am remembering my dreams, but I wish that at least there was something that I could learn from them...besides don't take parking passes that don't belong to you!

Yes, I'm pathetic

I have a lot of issues. I know it. I admit it. I won't pretend to have it all together. If you and I ever have a conversation that goes beyond the surfacy acquaintance stuff, I'll reveal my crazy (well, as much as I think you and I can both handle.)

While I have come to terms with the fact that I have a long way to go before I can call myself fully functional, I'm not content to say in this place...usually. Darren tries to help me out, and he does a terrific job. I've come a long way in the past year, thanks to key events and key players in my life. But whenever we try to get past the next hurdle, it seems the same conclusion is always reached: I need a friend.

Don't get me wrong; I don't live in a people-less bubble. But it seems that scheduling issues always get between me and the women I know whom I love and connect with. We used to see each other at least once a week - for a greeting and hug, if nothing else - but that was before I started going to church in another city, a decision that I almost always think was the right one.

I realize that I've pretty much done this to myself. I also realize that if I did have a real, good friend that my problems wouldn't disappear, but somehow it seems like the best way to make progress along the road to "normal"-- whatever that is.

Sometimes I am surprised by the consequences that come with particular decisions. Who knew that deciding to get married would actually make me lonelier?

Home sweet relaxing home

My apartment is a life-sucker. It seems that the moment I walk in the "front" door, any hint of motivation leaves me.

My workplace is wonderful, but there are far too many interesting people there and I get easily distracted. Somehow it's always better to talk to them than prepare for class. So I got into the habit of coming home to work. That's fine in theory, but I always forget to factor in the life-sucking quality of this place.

Don't get me wrong; I love my apartment. (Especially the past couple of days -- my landlords have been gone!) I don't blame this lack of energy on these walls or this address. Rather, I think it's more of a "the day has come to an end" mentality or a "I'm now in the relaxing place" mindset.

I wonder if this is something experienced by the masses or if I'm especially vulnerable. Either way, I've got to either train myself to focus and get more done at work or not allow my home-mode to kick in until the evening.

_______________________________

Addendum - Feb. 9, 2006
Darren said he used to experience the same thing...until he designated a certain spot in the apartment the work area. There's now a mental assiciation between that space and productivity. The problem with me, though, is that all of my apartment is "lazy space"...except the kitchen counter/sink. That's where I'm most productive - washing dishes, making dinner. I guess what I really need is a to make the kitchen counter my work space. Man, do I wish I had registered for a bar stool!

The Art Gallery

Relief has come to me at last! After a very stressful week that began with a less-than-desired incident (which you can read about on the wedding blog), we've finally found the perfect place to hold our reception. I haven't been this relieved since...oh...November 25.

When Darren and I first got together, I distinctly remember commenting that there was nothing beautiful about Hamilton. He told me that there certainly were beautiful places and that he would show them to me. Slowly but surely he has kept that promise. As you can see from many of our photos (pretty much all taken somewhere in the city), there are lovely places.

Downtown itself, which I'm sure was once a spectacular cultural centre, is now pretty run down and scary. But amidst all that, there is a fabulous jewel which we have rented for our party! We love it, our parents love it, and our guests will be blown away. Darren actually saw it first because I couldn't make it at the time when we could have an appointment last week and he left thinking, "This is where we're going to hold our reception." I'm so glad he was right.

Things aren't finalized; we're still negotiating menu and budget issues, but I'm just so glad to have chosen (not settled for) a hall!

Bakin' a batch of frosted flakes

I learned how to make frosted corn flakes today.

We spent the last 2 days in listening class watching a program that explained how items are made and it caused me to realize how little I actually consider the steps and processes that go into the stuff I use on a daily basis. I've never been one for taking things apart to see the mechanics inside or for trying to understand the inner workings of...well... anything. I did pass grade 12 physics, but it's only because I'm an excellent regurgitator of information.

Incidentally, I am now also the proud owner of the knowledge of how to build a kayak, but that's a story for another day!

Back to Frosted Flakes: I don't know how I thought this cereal was made, but it's rather quite simple. Kernels of corn are taken, mushed up a bit, and rolled. Each kernel, now flattened, is baked until it becomes a flake. Then the sugar solution and vitamins are sprayed on and taa-daa! Frosted Flakes!

It reminded me of the Rice Krispies commercial a few years ago in which a man was interviewing people asking them if they realized that the cereal was made from rice. The question at the end was "What did you think it was made from?"

I knew Frosted Flakes were made from corn but I always figured it was a corn-something hybrid. It's a good thing we have the Discovery Channel!!

Incidentally (again), when I told Darren about my new knowledge, he just happened to be glancing at his box of Frosted Flakes. And you thought sugar cereal was only for kids. (I wish you were right!!)

Superficiality and photos

Saturday Darren and I had an appointment at the Bay in Niagara Falls to complete a gift registry. What became an all-afternoon task was a very trying, exhausting, and revealing experience.

It seemed by the look on the face of the registry woman that we are very disappointing. For our 3 hours of walking around the store scanning items, - after she explained to us that we would need about 180 gifts on our registry, give or take - we came up with only just over 2 pages of "stuff" that we need or want.

Darren said he guesses we're just not superficial enough for such a task. It's also that we don't need a lot of things. The registry's main job is to help us avoid getting duplicates of items and having to either regift or return.

Anyway, before heading to Niagara Square, we decided to go to Denny's for breakfast. This is where my day started to go south.

For those of you who don't know, I have a hard time making decisions. No decision is worse than (probably) choosing what to eat at a restaurant. It's not that I'm picky; it's that everything sounds so good that I can't make up my mind.

It's even worse when I see a picture. In fact, 9 times out of 10 I end up ordering something that I can see simply because I can see it. I can't really remember a time recently in which a trip to a restaurant didn't include a "Gasp! I want that!" (pointing to a menu picture).

It works with real food, too. If the wait staff brings food to a nearby table before taking our order, the chances of me changing my mind double.

So the reason that the Denny's experience was so difficult is that they have a fabulous, large colour menu with the most delicious food pictured. Even after placing our orders (not an easy task on my part), we kept the menu to drool over it a little more.

Incidentally, the food was excellent and despite the over-pricing and over-filling of the plates, I was able to finish my meal! Of course, it was enough protein to last me 3 days, but that's what eating out for breakfast is all about, isn't it?