Fixing a wobbly shelf, Part One

So about 2 months ago I put up two "floating" shelves in my living room (you can find the post below). One of the shelves I put up did not feel secure at all, but I decided to leave that little problem for another day.

Yesterday was finally that other day. I had a vague idea of how to do it, I asked around a little, but I was still nervous. So to be sure I knew what I was doing, I turned to the best invention in the past 20 years...the internet. I read up and watched videos, and when I finally felt confident I went out to get what I needed.

My plan was to remove the offending shelf, then cover the holes, paint over the spots and put the shelf up again. It could have been a little higher anyway. One thing I did learn about covering the holes that I didn't know, was putting a patch over it before the putty. I don't know how much of a difference this makes, or if it makes it easier, but I felt more confident having it.

I may have put the putty on a little too thin in some places, but now that it's all dry and painted over it actually looks pretty good. You would have to get up really close to notice the little squares from the screen patch. I read somewhere to stuff the hole with paper, and I did. I still don't know if I should have, but the way I see it, I can't see it, so for now it isn't a problem.

I was worried that because the paint in the can has been sitting for a few months the colour might not blend in exactly and I'd be able to see the spots. I know I shouldn't have been worried about this...and it turned out perfect anyway. Not that any of this really matters because when the shelf goes back up you won't really be able to see any of it.

I'm waiting to put the shelf back up because it's really hard to do these floating shelves with only one set of hands. The bar you have to hang isn't light and it's hard to hold it with one hand while screwing things in with the other. Especially since it's higher on the wall.

So for now my one little shelf on the wall looks lonely, but the wall behind it looks great!

“Toast. The Story of a Boy’s Hunger” A book review

The thing I love about reading is the chance to escape into someone else’s world. If it is a really good book I feel as though the author has taken me by the hand and is leading me around. Toast, by Nigel Slater, is everything I want in a book. I picked it up because it sounded amusing and it was about food. I’ve really gotten into the flavours of food, in the last couple of years, and I’ve come to appreciate people who appreciate food.

Slater is definitely someone who appreciates food. As you read you have to wonder if he became a chef more for his love of eating food then making it. Slater writes of his childhood almost matter-of-factly, using the food of his childhood to take you through his most cherished memories, and sad events events of his life. He talks of the sad things without anger; he doesn’t want anyone’s pity. He describes traumatic events like he describes sitting around the table eating dinner, both simply as things that have happened in his life.

As soon you start reading, you can tell that Slater is a professional writer. His writing is entertaining, funny and elegant. His has the ability to make your mouth water on one page, while he pulls at your heartstrings on the next. He depicts all of the events and people in his life with honesty. His good guys have a bad side, and his bad guys have a good side.

I really enjoyed this book. I could even see myself rereading it, but probably not when I’m hungry...

Tornadoes in Ontario destroy more than people's homes.

Last night tornadoes hit south western Ontario. In one city alone 600 houses were damaged and 44 of those homes must now be torn down because they are “unliveable”. Cars were toppled over like they were toys throw about by children. Hundred year old trees fell, taking the power lines with them. Thousands were left without power, some until this morning.

As devastating as this sounds, houses can be rebuilt, cars replaced, trees replanted and power restored. What can’t be brought back is the life of the eleven year old boy who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When the news first broke that an eleven year old boy had died while taking cover in a forest from the storm, my first thought was, ‘What on earth was this boy doing outside in the forest when the storm reports had been on the news since the morning?’ I couldn’t help but wonder why his parents hadn’t gone out to look for him when the sky started to turn dark and stormy.
While the details are still unclear as to what happened, today the news reported that this boy had been at a day camp when the storm hit. The man who ran towards the dying screams of this little boy to try and help him didn’t seem to know the boy or have anything to do with him.

Where were the people who were supposed to be watching this boy? I know eleven year olds are old enough to wander off a little, but it wasn’t like this storm was a surprise. Sure it’s intensity was a surprise, as were the tornadoes, but there had been thunderstorm warnings all day. Just a few weeks ago a family was struck by lightning from a storm that seemed to be forming in the distance. The little boy in that case is still in the hospital.

I have to ask, didn’t we learn? Who was in charge of this eleven year old? When his parents dropped him off in the morning didn’t they have the right to assume that someone was going to look out for their child? In all of the destruction this death seems so pointless, so preventable.

Warm fuzzies

My cat just licked my leg like it was a salt stick. In between licks I could feel her hot little breath on my ankle. Then I felt her little teeth try to take a little bite. She's so adorable, I love her to bits. I know she would never hurt me which makes it even cutier. She's such a little sweetie. She makes my heart melt.

Starting again.

Can I start again?

Rewind the tape?

There is so much inside me, this energy that is making every bit of my body tingle. So much stuff is pent up inside me I feel like my body is going to start hovering. I’m worried that my pounding heart is going to break through my chest and give me away. I want to vomit all of it onto this page, but there is something blocking it. Something living inside of me is pushing it back down.

Despite the energy coursing through my body I feel fatigued. The strength it takes to keep this pulsing energy from exploding out of me weighs down on my body. It feels like walking around in a pressure tank.

I feel myself falling into a hole, and as hard as I scrambled to get out of it, I just go deeper and deeper. I wonder how I got here. I want to start over, where do I go for the redo? I want to shout out “Rewind the tape! I want to go back!”

And then as soon as it started, suddenly it’s gone. I look around, and wonder what it was all for. There is nothing I would change. No reason to go back. Everything is the way it should be. I feel silly.

Everything is the way it should be.

Blank Page

I can’t find the words, but I want to explain.

My fingers fly over the keys, as the page fills with words,

But just as quickly as they appear I make them disappear.

It isn’t a question of how much I want to share,

But how far back I want to go,

It’s such a complex web of events that brought us here today.

Where do I begin, when the story hasn’t ended yet?

Tomorrow

Do you remember what tomorrow is?

You always forgot what day it was. You always had to be reminded. But I didn’t mind. The day doesn’t mean to me what it means to others. I enjoy the excuse to get together and have good times. That’s all that mattered…and still matters to me.

It’s funny because it was a year ago tomorrow when it all started to end. I knew that the day would probably come, but this day was the day I had to accept it. I had to accept that for you out of sight was out of mind. I wasn’t worth the cost of the phone call.

So many times I needed to hear your voice; I didn’t care what it cost. All I cared about was talking to you. If I had told you how much I cared, would that have made a difference? Would you have cared more? Or was it always too much work for you?

I tried to forget. I really did. I pushed it so far out of my mind I couldn’t remember how it all fell apart. I don’t know what made me do it…look for you. Now your very public life without me has become almost an obsession. I go back and look one or two times a day, sometimes more. I try to make myself stop but I can’t.

Looking into your eyes again reminds me of all that we have lost. And for what? I started to blame myself.

Maybe I was asking for too much. Maybe I should have given you another chance. I had pushed the memories so far back I couldn’t remember. Was it me? I had to know.

I pulled up the letters that led to the final silence. I reread every detail. And then I remembered. I gave you a chance, more than one. But you blamed me. It wasn’t my fault, yet you blamed me. I gave you the key to get back in, but either you didn’t recognize it or you ignored it. That was your last chance. I don’t think we can go back. You proved I wasn’t worth it to you. But if not me, then who is? Who could ever be worth it more than I was?

So here I sit, knowing that I did all I could. Knowing that you didn’t. And I wonder. Will you remember what tomorrow is?

Sidenote: I just realized it was 2 years ago...how time flies...

Reunion of torture

Why do I keep going back? Ever time I look in those eyes the crack in my heart gets wider. It's like you're rubbing your happiness in my face. "See what I can have without you", you smiling face mocks me. The other part of me thinks your being so public because you are waiting for me to comeback, waiting for us to reunite, you want me to keep up so that I don't miss a minute. Deep down, I know that you probably have no idea how public your life has become.

The reunion that may never happen plays over and over again in my mind. Sometimes we forget everything that came between us, and just fall back into the good times. Other times we fight, cry, yell and shout. We let everything go, and put everything on the table. And then there are times when we pass eachother like we didn't see the other. This is how I think it will be.

We got too close, you hurt me too deep. I will always wonder why I wasn't worth it. Why you couldn't muster up the energy to care just a little more. I gave you so many chances, but you just didn't try. Maybe I should have shown you how much I cared, how hard I tried.

At the end of the day, it was me who ended it. I'm the one who walked away. I hoped that you would call me back, run after me. But you didn't. You just got angry and walked away. I doubt you even looked back.

Funny thing is I shed the tears of this moment a year before, knowing that it would come, hoping it wouldn't.

I hate your cat

I feel sleep heavy on my eyelids,
I slowly let myself succumb to the darkness.
Just as my brain is shutting down there is a noise,
A sad cry jerks me from my slumber.
I know you miss her,
So do I.
I reach out to stroke your soft fur,
But you pull away from me.

You run back and forth,
Nails skittering across the hardwood floors.
Your moans fill my room,
I reach out and again,
You pull away from me.

You crawl across my legs.
You cry some more,
I know this is your way of asking,
Where she is.
I reach out to comfort you,
But you pull away from me.

Together we watch the hours pass by,
I drift in and out of a restless slumber,
Your whiskers in my face as you cry for her.
You sound so sad, so lonely, so forgotten,
I know it isn’t my comfort you seek,
But I still try and when I reach out,
You pull away from me.

As the sun begins to rise,
My patience begins to wane.
Where I once felt guilt and sympathy,
I now feel anger and frustration.
You come and nestle up to me,
You search for my hand,
Looking for comfort,
But I pull away from you.

I did it!

When we first moved into our apartment, we bought shelves to put up. The task, as usual fell to me, and I have to admit I was terrified to do it. Finally yesterday I plucked up the courage, and I did it! The first shelf I put in doesn’t feel as sturdy as I would like, but we just won’t put anything heavy on it. I think I made the holes for the anchors a little too big. It comes out from the wall a little.

The thing I’m most worried about is the cat jumping up there with her big bottom and pulling the whole thing down.

Here are some pictures of my handiwork...

This is the first, and very wobbly shelf.

Here are both shelves together.

The second one is a little uneven but I think it’s hard to tell.

No Touching

This skin that has rarely been touched by love,
It trembles whenever someone comes near,
Involuntary spasms shoot up my back and I shudder.
Their finger tips on my skin feel like burning embers,
The pain runs deep from their touch, and I wonder,
Will I ever be able to feel?
Or will I always be numb to touch.

Others don’t understand,
They laugh at me,
Mocking and taunting me.
They think I am cold and cruel,
They think that the unfeeling extends to my heart.
Sometimes in an attempt to help,
But mostly just for their own amusement,
They surround me in an unwanted grasp.
A bear hug not filled with torment,
Meant to make me feel inadequate and awkward.

Sometimes when the loneliness overtakes me,
My body aches for your touch,
The only touch that I crave, the only touch I need.
I dream about running my hands over your soft skin,
Gently squeezing your flesh,
Our bodies radiating heat as we lie curled up together,
Your calm breathing lulling me into a dreamless sleep.

I’ve accepted that this will never happen,
My body will never touch yours,
Your fingers will never run across mine.
I am a prisoner to the fear that cripples me into this life,
Afraid to be exposed and to be vulnerable,
I will remain forever alone.

When I heard about Michael

My reaction to the death of Michael Jackson surprised me. It shocked and upset me more than I would have ever guessed. I was “working” a booth at a baseball game with the new guy at work. We had been standing around chatting about the nothing things you talk about with people you barely know. I got a text message, so I glanced down at it to see what it said. It said, “This is weird. Michael Jackson is dead.” I gasped “Oh my god!” and I must have looked upset because new guy looked at me concerned and said “What’s wrong?” to which I answered, “Michael Jackson is dead.”

His reaction to the news was as surprising as mine. He was clearly shocked and kept asking me how reliable my friend was, and started texting his friends to see if anyone had heard about it. Finally he remembered he had the internet on his phone, so he googled it and sure enough it was true.

For the next couple hours we both started reminiscing about Michael, and what a big part of our childhoods he had been. For me, he was really the first person I recognized as being a musician. I remember watching some sort of biography thing on him and being intrigued.

As I grew up, his music and the bizarre events in his life have always been there in the background. While I enjoy his music, I have never bought any of it, (although my sister has his greatest hits tapes somewhere...). Before this I would have never considered myself a fan. Now I would like to think so.

I’m sure many people will talk about all of the weird things he has done, and the allegations that have been made, but I have decided that I would like to remember him for the good stuff in his life. No matter what his faults were I think he genuinely loved his children, and tried to do what he thought was best. He was after all human.

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I have both spoken and laughed at many a joke at his expense, but right now while it is still fresh, I am going to respect his memory as best I can.

Bread

I just ate a giant piece of a baguette and I had to chew it so much I could feel it in my temples. I've had this happen before, it's a very weird sensation. It almost feels as though, with each bite your temples are going into your head. In a strange way it makes me feel like a frog, if I knew what a frog felt like...

The Remote

The room is dark except for the glow coming off the tv. The “gentle” sound of breathing drowns out the sound of the horrible show I am being forced to watch. My eyes search around the room looking for any sign of the remote, but I know where it is. It is somewhere under the body sleeping beside me.

I gently poke and prod searching for a glimpse of my salvation, but still I find nothing. As the minutes pass I get closer and closer to the point of no return. The point where it is too late to see the show I want to watch. My choices are growing limited, either I finish watching this horribly fascinating late night time filler, or I sit in darkness. I’m not lazy, you see, I can only change the channel with the special and my beloved remote. The “clicker” which rests, (uncomfortably?) under my sleeping comrade.

It’s going off...grown men are crying.

NOT INTERESTED!!!

I usually screen all my calls. We rarely get phone calls and we usually expect the ones we get. When the phone rang this morning I thought it might be my friend, so instead of waiting for it to go to the machine to be sure, I picked it up.

Immediately the guy on the other line asked for someone who wasn’t me. I figured as soon as I said “Sorry wrong number” that would be the end of that conversation. I was sorely mistaken.
He went on to ask me if the address was, “Blah, blah, blah”, I said “No, not at all.”, and once again thought that was the end of it. But it wasn’t. He then went on to ask me if I was interested in...”No not interested, thanks.” This is when he became aggressive.

“But you haven’t even heard my offer.” He began to tell me his offer, it was for a newspaper, I know I don’t want a newspaper, so once again I said “Sorry I’m not interested.” He started getting frustrated with me saying, “Can you just listen to me? We’re trying to start up a route for the youth in your region, this would really help them out...blah, blah, blah.” Ok first of all, I already told him he had the wrong address, so he doesn’t even know what region he is calling, second of all I AM NOT INTERESTED!!! I tell him again, and say I have to go, he then starts desperately trying to convince me, telling me I’ll get coupons in the paper and such. Now the reason I haven’t hung up on this guy yet is because I realize that they are just doing their job, and occasionally I have to call people (not for sales, or anything, but they always think that’s why I’m calling at first), so I like to be polite.

This guy just wouldn’t let up so finally I just said “Sorry I have to go” and hung up on him while he was midsentence. What I don’t understand is why this guy kept me on the phone, I’m not going to change my mind, so really you are just wasting your time keeping me on the phone. I’ve done sales and you can tell when you have a chance, and when you don’t. I think I’m going to have to go back to not answering the phone.

Riverdud

I went to see Riverdance the other night. Now I have always been under the impression that Riverdance was just a bunch of people tap dancing in unison. I love tap dancing, and as a kid I wanted desperately to take tap, but was never allowed. I was very excited to see this, tapping my toes at my desk in the days leading up to it. One of my co-workers had seen it a few days before me and in retrospect she had tried to warn me that it wasn’t all tap, but I was just too excited.

As soon as it started I began to get nervous, but after a bit they started tapping and I settled in to enjoy it. The tap dancing was amazing!!! If only they stuck to tapping.

Now I understand that it is hard to tap for two straight hours, but I’m sure they could have come up with a better idea than what they did. To me Riverdance was like The Hobbit mixed with A Christmas Carol. Confused? So was I. One moment there were fairies dancing across the stage, and the next moment carollers came out with candles lit. Meanwhile in the background there was a cheesy video screen with images such as moons, trees and at one point a flame on the screen.

The worst part of the show was when a woman came out and started stomping around on the floor. The only comparison I can think of is when the people who live above me walk around their apartment with their shoes on. There was no real rhythm to her dancing, and when she wasn’t clomping around the stage, she was swooshing her dress around. And if once wasn’t enough, near the end of the show they had her come out again to torment us some more.
After the intermission a black man came out and started singing about being a slave. Immediately following that 2 black guys came out and starting doing “jazz tap” and ended up in a “tap down” with three folky type tappers. In the end they all made up and tapped off the stage together. Don’t get me wrong, it was great, but very staged.

Occasionally on the news, or in a talk show they will show you a scene from a play or musical. Riverdance felt like I was watching a series of these. One part didn’t seem connected to the next.

Overall the show felt professionally boring. You could tell that these people have been doing this for years, and there was no passion in their dancing. The attempt at a story to string the show together was both confusing and boring. I found myself very restless about halfway through, and barely made it to the end without pulling my hair out (I tried to nap, but with the occasional tapping, that was too difficult). I give Riverdance two toes down.

The USA and Iran

I find it interesting that some people want the USA to get involved with the election fiasco that has happened in Iran. Although it was 9 years ago, it doesn’t seem like that long ago when the US allowed George Bush to be sworn in as President when Al Gore won the election.

I have no problem with citizens speaking out against this, and protesting. What I do have a problem with is other countries thinking that they have the right to step in and “fix” the problems of other countries. I realize that there are some exceptions to this, but unfortunately we don’t seem to step in when those situations arise.

The way that I see it, if that happened in Canada, even if I was against what was happening, I would be angry and frustrated that we weren’t allowed to sort things out for ourselves. It may take time, it may be bumpy, lives may be lost, but it’s up to us to sort it out.

Perez again!!!!

I turned on the news this morning when I was still half asleep. Before I even had my eyes fully open they were talking about Perez Hilton AGAIN!!!


I wrote about this briefly yesterday, and what I still don’t understand is how this whining boy makes the news? Someone hit him? So? I can’t imagine this is the first time he’s been hit, and if it was, it was long overdue.


They showed a clip of a video he posted onine, and he just looks like a pathetic whiner. He should be ashamed that he is taking attention away from real news. Like Jon and Kate Gosselin getting divorced.

Top News Story This Morning...

Wondering what the big news story is this morning? Perez Hilton was allegedly beat up by Black Eyed Peas group member Wil. I am. So after he got “beat up” and called the police what did he do? He started twittering about it. Who does that? If you get beat up wouldn’t you call a friend or family member?

Oh and it gets better...I went to his website to see if he had posted anything about what had happened. The first thing I see when I get there is a GIANT ad for the Black Eyed Peas, and there isn’t just one of them. The entire site is covered with ads for them. His whole background is ads.

There is something wrong with this guy on so many levels.

.75%, 1.25% or 3%

.75%, 1.25% or 3%

These are the interest rate on the savings bonds this year.
I remember when I was a kid my dad had me put any excess money I had into savings bonds, and he always said “Never go below 5%.” I’ve moved most of my savings into other things, but I still have a couple of the savings bonds from when I took my dad’s advice. Just last year some of them matured and I only got about $75 for $400. That was with an interest rate of higher than 5%.

I can’t imagine putting my money into a bond that only gave me 1% interest. It wouldn’t even be worth my time to go in and sign the paper work. I’m wondering though, if there are some people out there who will still get these bonds. I guess it’s a given that some people would.
So how on earth do these banks and such get away with charging us ridiculous interest for any money we borrow? Or even better yet, they charge us for the ability to loan out our money and earn even more money.

Man am I in the wrong business.