Snow!

It’s snowing! Well, if we can call this Satan’s-dandruff-falling-from-the-sky snow, then yes…it’s snowing.

If I didn’t have anywhere to go today, I’d be more than happy to sit inside, have a second cup of coffee and see how much snow can build up on the powerline outside the window before it falls off. But I do have somewhere to go. I received a phone call at 10:30pm last night, from a certain ASM in a panic over an actor ripping his pants.

Okay…impending rant.

I’m not saying that repairing actor’s ripped pants isn’t my job. It most certainly is. Ripped pants put food on my table and a roof over my head, generally speaking.
My problem is with the perception that I am on-call seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. Because I am both a salaried employee, and when I’m not, I am a self-employee, I’ve gone to great lengths to set up careful boundaries. As far as I or anyone else should be concerned, I am available between the hours of 9am and 9pm. That’s a full twelve hours of availability. If work related issues can’t be dealt with within this generous time frame, frankly, that’s not my problem.

Assuming they are sent out in a timely manner (ie: an hour or two after the show comes down) I always read show reports either before bed, or first thing in the morning. This always allows adequate time to respond to any wardrobe-tastrophes. I’m afraid I will be tearing Ms.ASM a new one this morning when I go in, over the late-night phone call. I know I’ll come across as Grandma, but I was asleep!

Grumble. Ripped pants….grumble.

Realistic New Year’s Resolutions

Keepin’ it real, yo. So real, I’m even a week behind writing these.

1. I will write more. It keeps my brain healthy, and frankly, gives me something to do between that time when I get home and collapse onto the couch, and when I start to think about feeding myself. The cat may get slightly less attention as a result of this one. Collateral damage, as far as I’m concerned.

2. I will READ MORE! My brand new copy of Sebastian Junger’s ‘WAR’ has been cohabitating on my nightstand with discarded earrings and half-drunk glasses of water. It’s not a fancy coaster!! There are so many more books to read in this house, now (one of the large LARGE perks of moving in with someone, besides the regular, uninhibited sex life) No excuses.

3. I will use, and become good at one damned instrument, instead of being sadly mediocre at a dozen or so. You’d think a pack of highly skilled musicians lived in this house, instead of two career ‘noodlers’. To date, our inventory includes: 5 guitars (three electric, two acoustic), 2 ukuleles, two harmonicas, and one flute. The newest addition to the family is my gorgeous new mango wood ukulele. I will spend more time with this.

4. Use my crockpot.

That is all.

On Christmas morning…

I’m up early, yet again, with a severe case of Christmas-treat-related indigestion. My boyfriend is sleeping in a different room of the house (even though we live together) and it’s freezing cold. Must be at the parent’s place!

Nobody else is up, but it’s 8:00 and I’m dying for a coffee (in for a penny, in for a pound, right?).

Overall, it’s good to be here. It’s great to see Kristy again (been a year, save a brief hour-long-visit this summer), nice to see my family, and eat food that someone else made. (insert angel choir here)

It’s also the first year ever that I have brought a partner home for Christmas. Dan was an amazingly good sport last night, bless his heart, as my mother dragged his hither and thither to Skype this relative and that.

(*Side note: it both delights and induces much eye-rolling in me to see that Skype has replaced the Christmas Eve phone calls. “Can you hear me NOW?….I can hear you but I can’t see you!….are you there???”)

….but my family loves Dan dearly. Even my Dad, who has notoriously had very little time for any person I’ve ever brought home.

Merry Christmas indeed.

Moving on

So many changes. It never rains except when it effin’ pours.

I’m moving! A move was kind of the obvious next step due to my affianced-ed-ness. I’ve called The Half home for over three years now, but the time has come to move on. If the leaking roof in the spring doesn’t get us, the crumbling foundation will. Ahh Toronto rental housing. We’ve had a lot of laughs here though.

This was the house I stood on the front porch one blustery night, looking up at the sky, heart-heavy. It was the night I told C. “I can’t. I want to see other people” I wondered if I would ever find what I was looking for.
In this house we threw many Christmas parties – the house full of so much laughter, love and light.

But change comes around again. M. has bought a condo, and I’m moving in with D, with a wedding to follow in 10 months or so. I almost don’t believe it.

But I’m excited. I’ve never lived in the east end. I’ve been spending a lot of time out there, and I’m falling in love with our new neighborhood. Our home is fantastic. It’s a 3 bedroom house with a garage, a full basement, two washrooms and plenty of room for friends and family, should they decide to visit.

I’m going to miss the Half, and the life I’ve had here. But if that same life has taught me anything, it’s not to cling to the past. Life only goes forward!

So here’s some news.

So hey. Did you ever think I would be the type of girl to go from zero to engaged in the space of six months? Bet you didn’t. Turns out I am exactly that girl.

About two weeks ago, D. and I decided that we were going to have a set of rings made. We’ve been sure about each other since approximately 30 seconds after we met. After some discussion about what our rings mean to us, and endless craft websites, we finally settled on Titanium Knights – A mom-and-pop type operation in the States, who do such simplistic, beautiful work.

I get a text at work. “I feel like go-karts or something competitive tonight”. Thus we found ourselves on the way to Playdium. Yep. Playdium in Mississauga. What can I say? I was in the mood for skee-ball.
I won three game. He won three games. We were down to the tie-breaker.
“Okay, one more game”, D. said, fishing around in his pocket. “We’re playing for this!”
He slams down a small gold bag.
“What is that? I don’t know what that is,” I say, peering closer. “Ohhh….OH!!!”
D, in his slightly sadistic way, makes me play the game first. Of course he wins. He stands, looking me in the face, and asks, “Will you marry me?”
I laugh, “Yes….of course…..of course I fucking will!!!”

I suspect I will continue to be just as curmudgeony about weddings as I have been. Suddenly, I find myself a member of a club I don’t remember signing up for. Anyone who’s ever had a wedding, is chock-full of (well-intentioned, I’m sure) advice on what to do/not do. Having worked in weddings and events for quite some time, the thought of having a big wedding continues to give me hives. The question I am asking myself is, “How do we keep it SIMPLE without having it snowball out of control??”

Too hot

It’s too hot. Too hot to sew. Too hot to read. Too hot to anything.

I long for the days of autumn that I know will all too soon be upon us. I honestly can’t wait to crunch through the leaves in my new Fryes (!!!).

Soon school will be back in session, and delinquent George Brown students will smoke joints underneath my shop window, blissfully unaware that I can hear ever inane thing they say.

But for now…it’s too hot.

Back.

I’m back friends. After a brief foray into the world of Tumblr, I’m back to WordPress, and all it’s comment-y, stat-y, user friendly glory.

So much has gone on, since my last slightly-cryptic post regarding being in capital L-ove.

In no particular order: (Okay, maybe just a little)

DG: My lovely man. A man I should have met years ago, really. For literally years we’ve been like ships passing in the night – one of us working at a place mere weeks after the other has left. But worlds finally collided early this summer and it’s been bliss ever since. We drank a beer together. We drove places. We laid out under the stars (really, it was amazing). We BBQ’d. We snuggled on the couch. We talked late into the night. We fell ‘bonce-over-fanny’ in love.
DG connects with me on every level imaginable, right down to the way he smells. He is smart, capable, funny, handsome and a plethora of adjectives. I could go on and on, but I won’t be that gushy and bore you all to tears, so suffice to say I’m stupidly happy, and he shall be a regular fixture in my writing from now on.

Uke: I learned the ukulele this summer. You heard me. And I’m actually getting pretty good with it. It’s the perfect size for my wee hands. I’ve always had a bit of a problem with the guitar for this very reason. My hands just are a tiny bit too small to comfortably play the thing. Anyway, I purchased a cheap one, and now that I know I love it, I’m in the market for a proper Koa wood concert uke. Gonna need me some cash-money for that one.

Driftwood: Twelfth Night was amazing this year. I’m very very happy with my designs this year. Didn’t have to compromise a thing. Woohoo!

Back to work: I’m back in the ol’ costume shop, and it feels nice to be back with a regular paycheck, benefits and RRSP contribution. This is going to be a fairly well-paced season for me, I think. It’ll get a little harried around Christmas, but that’s always the case with me. I’m going to try to plan ahead as much as possible, and in the event I need to hire extra help, well….’sew’ be it.

(*cricket chirps*)

Moving on…no literally, moving on. I’ve decided to leave my little nest here with Mark at the Half. This decision came about for a few reasons. 1. DG and I are moving in together. We love each other, and we truly want to live together. After many discussions about this, we’re confident that we’re very well-suited to co-habitate. 2. Mark is feeling the desire to live on his own. He’s never done so, and would like to. Fair enough. 3. This house is crumbling into the ground. Literally. The foundation is disintegrating at the northeast corner. Neither Mark nor I want to participate in another landlord-involved home renovation. Especially one of this magnitude.

And so it works out well for all parties involved.

More soon.

I’ve moved!

Hey lovelies. I’ve finally moved my blog. I’m not overly loving the WordPress.

http://greenteadiary.tumblr.com

BOOKMARK IT.

In Hindsight: The Man Child.

A couple of months ago, as this blog can probably attest to, I swore off a number of ‘types’ which I will detail in the next couple of posts. In this installment, we look at The Man Child.

The Man Child (TMC) is easily spotted in nature, when one knows the signs to look for. Initially, TMC will attract willing mates with his carefree nature, sense of humor and, likely, boyish good looks. At first, you’re intoxicated – swinging on swings in the park, eating ice cream at all hours of the day and night and letting yourself sleep until noon – it’s just so much FUN.

TMC is usually available to hang out with you, regardless of the time of day, which only adds to his appeal. It’s only until this pattern repeats for a number of months, that you begin to realize that all this availability, is due to a lack of real employment. His sexual stamina is really only orgasm tolerance, built up from years of four-times-daily masturbation.

Eventually you begin to realize that his world, much like any child, only revolves around him. His space. His stuff. Your space. Your stuff. Smart people realize, at this point, that this is not the type of man who can share. What was once charming has now become irritating and tiresome.

It’s only when you’re hailing a cab at three in the morning, because he couldn’t have you sleep over ‘because he wouldn’t sleep right’, that you think to yourself “I can’t do this anymore. I need a real man.”

Beware, friends. Beware.

Taking life by the balls.

Okay, so first of all, I don’t know if those of you in Toronto have noticed, but it’s fucking gorgeous outside. I know this, because I watched the sun float by my (admittedly awesome) south facing shop windows today. I walked home after work, even. Couldn’t help but giggle at how funny we warmth-deprived Canadians are – mercury rises slightly, and everyone is tearing off their clothes and sitting on patios in the sunshine, and errrmm SEVEN degree weather.

Nonetheless, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and spring is soon upon us. I saw shoots of grass coming up today. Maybe we don’t yet know it’s spring, but the earth sure does.

Okay, okay. You’re sitting there asking yourself, ‘What’s with the sudden optimism there, Ms Otherwise Grumpy Pants?’ And you’d be right. For the past months I’ve been in a funk. The decline and subsequent death of my last not-quite-relationship had me down. But spring brings the promise of a decided upswing.

First things first. I couldn’t really go into detail about this before, but now the deadline has passed and what’s done is done. I’d mentioned an award, and it’s a big one from the Ontario Arts Council. The Pauline McGibbon Award to be exact. I don’t know who nominated me, and I don’t get to find out until a yet-undetermined date. The winner is announced at this year’s Dora Awards I’m terribly excited. Looking at the list of past winners, (and as cliche as this may sound) I’m honored and thrilled just to be nominated and counted among these people that I admire and respect.

The other thing is that I’m in the early (practically zygote) stages of seeing someone. Someone I’ve truly sparked with. Honestly, I haven’t felt like this in YEARS, and it comes as a total shock to me, considering how I was feeling about relationships none too long ago. The ridiculous part is, he seems to be as crazy about me as I am about him. Twitterpation Station up in here….

Oh, also….who’s going to New York in May? This guy!!!