Morning Routine

A clock in Brussels... not too useful!

I have never been a morning person.  Literally never.  As a kid I didn't want to get out of bed; by my last year of high school, when people saw me at school before second period, they'd greet me in the hall with "What are you doing here?".  It didn't get any better in university.  For some reason I took a Psych 100 class at 8:30 AM in first year.  I went so infrequently that one day I decided to call the professor's office because I had an inkling a mid-term must be coming up.  It was that afternoon.  You can imagine how well I did, but at least I learned never to take a class before 10.

I even maintained some level of comfort with an early job at a bookstore; I made my own hours, so I often scheduled myself for 10-6:30 or 12:30 to 9.  I miss that... I don't miss the flimsy paycheque, however.

As I advanced (a bit) up the corporate ladder, the ability to sleep in has slowly evaporated.  Despite that, I still get to sleep in longer than most people.  I don't have kids, and my commute is an enviable walk of 15 to 20 minutes.  No traffic jams or public transportation to deal with, just the occasional downtown crazy homeless person.  A small price to pay for extra sleep!

The thing is, I have always envied Morning People.  They seem so together, so organized.  While they are calmly reading the paper and having a healthy breakfast, I am scrambling to find matching shoes and counting the toothpaste I swallowed as a breakfast food.  How do I become one of them?

Ideally, I'd like to get up about an hour earlier, which would give me enough time to hit the treadmill and eat without having to do it over the sink.  

I picture something like this:

6:30 Wake up, have water with lemon

6:40 Get on treadmill

7:10 Hit the shower

7:40 Have breakfast

8:15 Leave for work

This seems ridiculously easy; I'll bet 99% of the (5) people who read this get up by then.

For comparison's sake, here's my typical morning:

7:20 Hit snooze button

7:30 Hit snooze button

7:40 Turn off alarm but still don't get up

7:45 Jump out of bed in a panic and run to the shower

8:15 Leave for work with wet hair.

Surely this can be improved upon.  If anyone reads this, and has somehow managed to change from a Night Owl to a Morning Person, please let me know how!

The Forty Buck Experiment

This blog is called Spends 2 Much for a reason, and I think that has been amply demonstrated in these posts. But here's the thing: I have decided to see if I can live on only $40 for an entire week. This is for groceries, incidentals, lunches, and anything else that pops up during the week.
I know I should be able to do it, because I have done it. When I moved to the city in the 90s, I worked as a publicist for a small publishing company. It was my dream to work in publishing. It was not my dream to earn 28 grand a year. After rent, my Metropass, and other bills, I had much less to spend on food than I do now, but I ate perfectly well.

I have to remember how to shop as though I only have $40 on me, so I will be leaving my debit card at home this week.

I have plenty of stuff in the cupboards and freezer, so I should only need veggies and beverages. One of my problems has been that I "start again" every time I shop, rather than buy things that complement what I already have. I have a feeling that spending less will result in healthier dinners, so I'll post what I come up with.

Off to make the shopping list!

One of Those Days

One of my favourite episodes of the old Mary Tyler Moore show was the one where Mary had a really bad day. Bad hair day, spilled coffee on her shirt, screwed up at work, tripped and sprained her ankle... when she finally got home, she had this exchange with Rhoda:
Mary: Have you ever had one of those days?"
Rhoda: "Mostly."

That's how I'm feeling lately. Today was a banner day- I was going to stay home, since I'm not feeling well, but at 8:00 I remembered I had a few meetings with some vendors who were flying in from Montreal, so I picked up the first clothes I could find, did a lousy makeup job, and bolted out the door. On the way to work, a crazy man yelled at me" Hey you fucking smart cookie- LOOK AT ME! I know it was you!", then he SPAT on me. Fantastic.

Sat at my desk, and opened a vanilla yogurt. Must have been vacuum-sealed, since it exploded all over my sweater.

My boss came by and told me that another project was due today, and we were having a team meeting. I raced between projects, skipped lunch, and worked like a madwoman to be ready for my 1:30 meeting. Tick, tick, tick. Where are they? Oh, they declined the meeting last week, but no one bothered to tell us. Great.

Finally, I had time for lunch. I spilled Ginger Carrot soup on my sweater.

Amazingly, nothing went wrong between the hours of 2 and 5 PM.

And as soon as my boots hit the pavement at 5, it started to rain.

What Project Runway and the Bush Administration Have in Common

I am a huge fan of Project Runway. Not because I want to see 14 variations of cocktail dresses made from recycled car parts.  The draw for me is the contestants themselves.  I don't care about the group dynamics, or anyone's sappy back story.  What keeps me tuning in week after week is the chance to hear the contestants critiquing their own work.  Nothing on this earth impresses these people more than themselves, and it is utterly fascinating to watch.  These people are blown away by their own awesomeness, and say so out loud.  In fact, "blown away" is one of the most frequently used terms when the contestants watch their creations come down the runway.  No matter what sort of disaster they have draped on some poor stick-figured model, they tear up when they see the girl sashay down the runway draped in the hideous mess of their design.  Each contestant is happy to say that his or her own work towers above anyone else in the competition, and if the judges disagree, the judges are wrong.  Really, what would Michael Kors know about fashion?  Listening to people so confident in their own abilities despite ample evidence to the contrary actually evokes some wistfulness from me.  I do not have the ability to heap praise, warranted or not, upon myself, and mostly I think that's the way it should be.  There is self confidence, and there is delusional self confidence.

Which brings me to the Bush administration.  These men and women are the political equivalent of Project Runway contestants.  They believe in themselves and their choices despite the fact that most of the world believes they are wrong.  They don't learn from mistakes, because they don't think they've made any.  They consider themselves to be divinely inspired.

Problem is, the consequences from George Bush's delusional self confidence will be around a lot longer than those fugly Project Runway dresses will be.

UGH!

I love snow this time of year.  And only this time of year.  From now until Christmas, I'm all for a light dusting of snow every few days.  After all, I am a born and bred cold-weather Canadian, so I know how to walk like a duck to keep from falling in snow.  This year, I thought I was being extra clever by getting a pair of new boots, both warm and functional.  I thought...

Yes, I got myself some shearling boots called Emus.  Uggs are too damned expensive, and I really was going for practicality more than style (if I had wanted to look like a fashion victim, I'd have bought a pair of Uggs 5 years ago and worn them in the summer).  That being said, these boots were a big mistake!  Ok, they are warm, and the inside is soft, but the treads on the soles are useless.  I know this because this morning I slid off the sidewalk at the corner of Jarvis and Carlton, did a sort of demented pirouette, and landed on my butt in a pile of filthy slush. I got to work wet, dirty, and more pissed off than usual, and I'm always pretty pissed off on Monday mornings. 

 Sartorially, as well, these are not the boots for me.  I look like I was built at the Muppet Workshop at FAO Schwarz .  I'm not that freaking old, but I think I am too old for these boots.  This was confirmed for me on the way home from work, when a 4 year old pointed at my feet and shrieked to her mother: "those are the boots I want!"

It's not enough that I look like a fool in these boots, I am also endangering my life.  My old boots are already at the Goodwill store, so tomorrow I have to go to the mall to drop more money and get some boots that will keep me from ending up underneath a streetcar on a slippery day.  That, or I can go to Goodwill and buy my old boots back for a Loonie.

Stand Back, I Have A Glue Gun!!

The early 90s were fun, weren't they?  Well, they were for me, but I wasn't paying a mortgage, or even rent, back then.  I know that the lousy economy at the time is what helped elect Bill Clinton in the US, and that certain trends always seem to accompany lean economic times. Nesting, cocooning, or whatever the currently fashionable term might be, comes back in style when we all pretend that the thing that got us to the point of worldwide financial meltdown was the fact that we go out to dinner on occasion.

Whatever, I have decided to wholly embrace this "recession"  (it isn't real if you use quotation marks, right?) by digging out old Martha Stewart Living magazines and getting insanely crafty. I will be baking a lot, but that's not unusual for me at Christmas, but this year marks a return to home made ornaments, decorations, gift wrap, and whatever other silly things my friends and I come up with. 

I'm off to Michael's Craft Store to buy some provisions, and will update once some of the disastrous but fun results are in.  It's a Good Thing!

Mildred Pierce, R.I.P.

Went to Oasi last night, for a preview of the restaurant opening in the space that used to be Mildred Pierce and The Cookworks. Made me want to barf to see the part that had been The Cookworks turned in to such a generic club space, with all the obvious design tricks- white-painted brick walls, pointless videos projected on the walls, and the same music you hear everywhere.

The restaurant part was nice, though. My main aesthetic concern with restaurants is the lighting, and this place had cool fixtures and subdued, flattering lighting. (I hate feeling like I'm in a giant tanning booth when I'm eating an expensive dinner.) The banquettes were upholstered in a subtle neutral stripe, and there was a mix of dark and light wood.

The menu was intriguing, and no more expensive than any other new restaurant in town. (That's another trend I hate: exorbitant pricing as a marketing gimmick.) There's an extensive wine list, with a bafflingly large selection of both reds and whites from Greece. I'll definitely go back for dinner, but I'll mourn the passing of Mildred Pierce, and look forward to Mildred's Temple Kitchen!

Obama-Rama

America had a great night on Tuesday, and so did I.  Had about 15 people over to watch the election returns.  Happy that we had a result at 11PM, though I was prepared to stay awake all night if I had to.  What the hell, I did it in 2000...

Served some good food.  Made pulled pork in the crock pot.  I'm sure my neighbours appreciated my searing the pork shoulder at 7AM, but it adds so much flavour.  Made the standard Barefoot Contessa dips that I have been doing forever, and the prosciutto and cheese palmiers.  I'm thinking it's time to retire those options, and come up with some new things to impress my guests next time.  So I'll be trolling cookbooks and trying some new things.

Less Shopping, More Blogging

I can't believe I just used "blog" as a verb.  Surely I am too old for that.  In any case, since the economy is in the crapper, I might as well write instead of run up my credit cards.  I have been living like a junior Rockefeller on my vacations, and it's time to pay the piper.  If the piper is Visa.