The Late Syndrome

Every morning I arrive at my école de français between 8:40 & 8:50 a.m. School starts at 8:30 sharp, but I have fallen into the pattern of arriving at around 8:45. In my world, I have come to believe that if I arrive at 8:40, I am early, and if I arrive at 8:50, then I am a tad late. To me 8:45 is on time.

My classmates have come to expect this behaviour from me. They have now started timing themselves according to me. If a fellow student shows up after me they think 'I must be really late, Sara is here!'

The truth of the matter is that is that every morning I have the choice to be on time, but I choose not to. I arrive in the parking garage about 8:25, and it's less than a 5 minute walk to my school, so if I walked straight to school I would be on time, but instead, I choose to make a stop at Tim Horton's (and who can really blame me), as coffee has become a morning ritual since joining the public service. By the time I get through the coffee line at the local Timmy Ho Ho's (and its quite a line, there are atleast 25 people with the same look on their faces 'gimme my coffee and no one gets hurt'), I then proceed to walk to school, which makes me 10 to 15 minutes late by the teacher's watch.

I enter the classroom each morning with a smile on my face, I take my seat knowing that I will be able to survive the morning schedule of French activities because I have my large coffee in hand to support me (similar to a sponsor in an AA program). I am sure that the teachers, along with a few of my fellow students (not to mention the director of school) are largely perturbed at me for the late entrance, but in my world, if the stop at Tim's makes me a better student, then it makes the class a better place to be for everyone involved!

I know, most of you are thinking: if you are always 20 minutes late, then why don't you leave 20 minutes earlier? - I too have entertained this idea of getting up earlier and leaving earlier, but no one likes to break routine. There are many studies out there that say having a routine in life is good for the spirit, as is spontaneity -- but I only like to be spontaneous once or twice a month, which is the only two days a month that I actually show up on time for school, at 8:30 (and this calculates as being early in my world).

My mother will read this post and I am sure she will begin to feel the guilt for the reason I have this habit of being late. She tried to be proactive and put me in the morning class in kindergarden. I guess she was trying and instill those earlybird habits in me, but personally I think her choice backfired. The only thing the morning class did for me was allow me to meet my good friend Jamie King (Ozerkovich)...other then that I was wasting precious years of sleeping in (also a waste of energy on the part of my Mom having to drag me out of bed every morning).

The late patterns have been present my entire life. I was always late for school, late for the bus, at work I am usually late for meetings, and for curling games I usually show up later than my other teammates, the Bellerose side of my family also has a reputation for being late to family functions, and now P has contracted the syndrome as well, he is showing up late for things more so than I (...and he always has to explain to everyone how it's MY fault when WE arrive late to an event - yeah right!).

Being late really is a syndrome. I believe the one and only thing I actually did show up on time for was my wedding! Those who know me well were surely amazed, but I think that's the point. When things are very important to you, you make sure you're on time, but when they're not so important, such as French, you don't give a damn about whether your 10 minutes late or an hour late. A shame one might say, but for me, the syndrome kicks in and no matter what I do I just can't break the lateness. I believe I should have been named Sara Late Bellerose, or something to that effect.

I think there are stages to the syndrome, and surely French has put me in the worse stage of it which I like to refer to as consistently late -- you know what they say, the first step to recovery is admitting the problem: so - hello my name is Sara, and I am late to school everyday. (Now you say: Hi Sara and welcome - or something to that effect).

Everyone knows a problem like this doesn't go away over night, so for today I will take the next step on the 12 step program and I will consciously make an effort to be less late for class starting tomorrow- that's a start, right?

Any suggestions for curing the late syndrome?

Laundry & Leisure

Yesterday, I was a LAZY bum. I say with this much enthusiam, because although I ditched French to do this, I do not feel any remorse. The day was beautiful....and I took full advantage of it. I did nothing.....well, that's not true, I did laundry....but between loads, that's when I did nothing. I couldn't even bring myself to check my email, or make a post on here. That's how stinkin lazy I was....and I loved every minute of it. Laundry & Leisure....the perfect Tuesday in my books. The second best part was that I had curling last night in Maxville, so I didn't even have to cook a meal - oh the life!!!

Last night driving home from curling, my sister-in-law Ange and I were discussing the life of leisure, and how it would be ideal to have the summers off. Work would be so much more enjoyable if you knew you could have July & August off, no strings attached. You would work and feel stressed for 10 months out of the year, knowing that July & August were free to spend at the cottage or doing whatever the heck you wanted.

We did bring up the fact that teachers currently enjoy this life style, but I don't particularly think I would be a good teacher (and lord knows you don't want me teaching your kids -- I have no patients for those who are learning!). Ange is currently a certified teacher, and she would make a good teacher, but she too is not into the teaching option at this point in her life.

Besides teaching, I don't know what other legal professions currently enjoy this option. My friend Kristy, her boyfriend works for the Coast Guard, and he currently enjoys a month off at time. This year, he will enjoy the majority of his summer from the comfort of his own home, but the downfall in that job is that he is away from home for a whole month and as a trade off has to work the month of December -- he does enjoy his job, but that wouldn't be ideal for me.

The other option would be to have kids, one after the other, timed perfectly so that maternity leave works out during the summer months. However, the trade off here is that you would actually end up with a pile of kids, which would then result in no time for leisure. While maternity leave is an option, it's only a temporary solution -- and not an ideal one for me (at this time).

Short of taking over the country and shuting down government offices for July and August, I think I will be committed to working through the summer for the next 30 years. The life of leisure will have to be reduced to the precious three weeks of holidays that I get, and of course the odd sick day. However, the good part about these types of thoughts is that it keeps me day dreaming, and day dreaming definitely puts in the time at school....so while I contemplate how to actually take over the world, I also get through another dreaded day of French - and this a good thing!

Anyone else have some bright ideas on how to get the summers off?

Role Reversal

And they're off.....

This morning I got up and took my parents to the airport as they were catching a flight to Florida. We went for a nice breakfast and then I dropped them off at the airport. What a werid experience. Usually, it's my parents dropping me off at the airport and sending me on my way, but today, I pulled up to the departures lane, unloaded the luggage, and sent them threw the front doors -- I drove away thinking 'geez....that was weird'. They didn't seem to mind the situation either, they both smiled and said 'okay...see you next Tuesday'.

You have to wonder...who is the child and who are the parents here!!

Last night, we drove into Ottawa for dinner, so my Dad and P could hit Golf Town. My Mom and I went to IKEA and then we had a nice dinner at Baton Rouge. After dinner we drove home and Mom and I ended up in our basement going through odds and ends of stuff I was looking to get rid of. I was going through a few tubs, saying 'do you think you would use this?' and she would say yes or no. The same bewilderment crossed my mind - it was odd - usually she is the one going through things around her house and saying to me 'do you think you would use these' or 'I don't know if you want this or not, but if you do, take it'. Last night Mom was able to fill a woole rubbermaid tub with things that she was going to take back home with her, but again it was weird....when did the role reversal take place...or better yet, my transition into full adulthood? Obviously, I missed it.

Since P and I have been in the house and have been married, I find myself thinking more and more about all the responsibilities we have. I often wonder how did we get to this place in our lives. It still feels like yesterday that I was asking my Mom (and then my Dad) if I could have some money to go to the store and get a treat at Lawrence's MiniMart.

I guess no matter when the transition happened...it has happened, but I bet I can still get some money out of my parents for at least a treat!! Even better, since they're on vacation for the week, god knows what I could get away with having their truck parked in my driveway -- I told my Dad before he left that we were going to put an orange tarp in the back of the truck, fill it with water, and let it heat up all week. Then next weekend, we would invite over 20 of our closest friends and have a pool party in our driveway -- oh that's right...I can still be the child here!

Survived: 6 months of Marriage

Today P and I celebrate our 6 month wedding anniversary. I say celebrate, but really I will just post it on here, and it will be forgotten. Yesterday, driving home in the car, P and I had the following conversation:

Me: 'Do you know what tomorrow is?'
P: 'No...what is it?
Me: 'You don't know?'
P: 'No...tell me?'
Me: 'I shouldn't have to tell you...you should know?'
P: 'Well I don't know....so tell me.'
Me: 'No.'
P: 'What's the date tomorrow?'
Me: 'What's the date today?'
P: 'Is tomorrow the 24th?'
Me: 'Yes'
P: 'O.K...how many months are we at?'

You can't help but laugh, because I do this every month around the 24th. I get excited that we have survived another month of marriage. All the articles and books I read state that surviving the first year of marriage is the hardest, so I am thrilled to get through another month without any major divorce-type issues!

I personally believe that the first 5 years of marriage are going to be hard, since I know that the divorce rate for couples in their twenties is a lot higher than it use to be 15 years ago. I always hear about young couples who split up after only a few years of marriage and I ask myself 'how does that happen?' - although I know it does. I have been super cautious of this so far in our marriage, as I definitely don't want to be one of those people who wakes up one morning and wonders 'where did we go wrong?'

Judging from the first 6 months, we are no where near that. So far it has been fun. It's been busy for us, but we are relaxed and just enjoying life, which is what I think is what we both knew would happen.

Although we won't be having a major celebration tonight, internally I am pretty happy to be at the 6-month mark. Hopefully after the first year of marriage I will stop counting each month....I don't want to be like those mothers who knows exactly how many months old their children are when they're past the age of two (perhaps this will change when I actually become a parent). In three and half years I don't want to be caught saying 'oh...we've been married 42 months.' However, I do fully expect that I will know the exact number of months we have been married from now until eternity, and I am sure I will continue to quiz P around the 24th of every month, just to keep him on his toes.

Oh the joys of being newlyweds -- I know....we are still in the sappy love phase of marriage, but if wouldn't bother me a bit if this phase lasted forever -- it's good to be happy...and god knows French makes me miserable, so I will take this special occasion and try to milk it for all it's worth today -- because I can!

Potty Mouth

Last week I burned myself a new CD for the Escape. I had about a list of 10 songs that I wanted to put on the CD, but then I had to search the charts for a few more songs in order to fill an entire CD. One song that I came across was by Eminem called Shake That...I previewed the song online and heard the chorus which goes like this (move your head rapper style):

Shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
C'mon girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
Ohh girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
C'mon girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me

I know it's probably not the nicest choice of words for a twenty-something catholic-girl to be singing, but the beat was just so addictive. I decided to download it and put it on the CD. I was pretty pleased with all my selections, until I heard the entire version of the song --have you heard it? It's a DIRTY DIRTY song, worse than the famous tune from my University days called Put it in your mouth (which the girls from 130-O knew all the words to).

All I can say is that my Mother and Father, or for that matter, parents in general will not be pleased with Eminem's choice of lyrics. If I had kids in their teens, there is no way in hell that they would be allowed to listen to anything by Eminem -- but particularly not this song. However, since I'm a grown adult, I will continue to listen to it knowing that it's a bad song.

At any rate...I am not a fan of the lyrics because like I said, it's a DIRTY DIRTY song (it refers to some sexual activity that nobody wants the hear the details about) but here is where is gets complicated. I've listen to the song about a dozen times or so and even though the lyrics are bad, the tune just sticks with you. I find myself singing bits and pieces of the song all day long (and it doesn't matter what part of the song you choose, it all sounds bad...very bad). The more I sing it, the more I realize what a little potty mouth I have.

P has caught onto the song too (although he already has a potty mouth), and now we are at home reciting the lyrics back and forth to one another -- it's a hilarious, but if anyone ever caught wind of these lyrics out of context, I have to wonder what they would think of us.

If you've heard this song on the radio, it's practically the instrumental version because they have to bleep out the f-bombs and all the other derogatory terms used -- which is practically every second word. This is good, because you still get the beat without the dirty lyrics, however, it's probably going to turn into something like Billy Idol's hit song Mony Mony -- where even though the dirty lyrics weren't sung by Billy himself, everyone and their dog knew the dirty parts and shouted them at the top of their lungs at the appropriate parts (not me of course, but some people I knew!).

What I have come to realize through the years is that our tolerance for potty mouths on television, the radio, or in literature has definitely increased over the years (my Mother wouldn't exactly agree with this statement, as her tolerance has always been the same - she has none -- especially for the f-bomb, although P has slowly tried to change her opinion!).

10 years ago if the word bitch was used in a movie, there was no questions asked, it was rated R, but today, Disney is practically making Beauty and the Bitch their next big hit. I will say that I know my mouth can get the best of me, especially at work or when I am frustrated, but this new song by Eminem has sunk to a whole new low.

I picture my kids in 15 years, going through Mommy and Daddy's CD collection and coming across this tune.....my 7 year old will be singing 'met a bad bitch last night at the D...c'mon girl shake that ass for me...' - Oh god, what have I done!

Anyone want to play in traffic?

Monday, as you may recall, I was in a good mood, and while I thought that good mood may carry over during the week, it appears that Good Mood Monday has disappeared faster than chocolate milk in the refrigerator (at least our fridge).

Tuesday, French was long and painful journey through the passé composé, and while I understand the concept and when it should be used, I sound like a bumbling idiot when I try to actually utilize the past tense en français.

Today, was yet another reminder of how long this course is actually going to be -- generally most days I feel like I have accomplised something, but this week my french fatigue has really set-in and it doesn't appear to be taking a vacation anytime soon.Each morning the teacher asks you how are you doing (like a normal english conversation), but since my classmates and I only have the vocabulary to answer 'good' in french that is all we respond with. I have come to realize that they only teach you the answers 'good' or 'very good', as they're not interested in hearing the real answers.

I guess the large part of my problem is that I hate repetition, and every day the schedule is basically the same -- warm up exercise, a few activities, a break, a few more activities, lunch....how 'bout we do some activities after lunch, another break, why not wrap up with AN ACTIVITY. I hate activities....but even more then the activities, I hate being put on the spot. If the teacher asks you a question and you give him an answer, and it's the wrong answer, he will re-ask you the same question in hopes that you accidentally gave him the wrong answer on purpose. I feel like saying (screaming) 'obviously I don't know the right answer or I would have given it to you in my first answer.'

I don't believe learning French should be rocket science, but you have to wonder somedays. The other night I caught part of Oprah -- she was talking about the Invisible Poor -- it broke my heart to see these families really struggling just to put food on the table and support their kids. The one mother said she was happy because she had her kids and her husband and that is all she really wanted from life, but watching that show really put everything into perspective for me --- while I hate French I do know that it is a privledge to have the oppourtunity to learn a second language for the sole fact that I will probably end up with a better job when I finished (if I ever finish). I shouldn't be complaining all the time, but it seriously does get me down.

I think I'll go grab a coffee, and contemplate playing in traffic on my lunch hour.Thank god I have plans to go to Pizza Hut tonight with Clapper and Air....or else the day would be a complete disappointment.

Here's for hoping Thursday is a better day in this roller coaster ride called French language training.

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet Québec

Who would have ever thought I would have a post with the title Sweet Québec. Not me, but today I have the feeling of general happiness and appreciation for Québec and Québecers.

Why you ask....? Not because they're good drivers -- no! And not because they're famous for poutine, Joe Louis', and pepsi -- no! The reason (the only reason) is because of curling!!!

Last night was an entertaining evening of the Brier final in our household. I say our household, but really P was only interested in the game until the Soporano's started at 9pm...then I moved upstairs to the bedroom to shout and scream all on my own!

While I was rooting for Gatineau's J.M Ménard all the way, I was surprised to see Québec leading 4-0 after only 2 ends. The game was great...every end was exciting. The 10th end was pretty nerve racking....I was on the edge of my seat (bed) right down to the final rock....as J.M. spilled Ontario's stones far enough out of the rings to win the first Brier title for Québec since 1977.

On the last shot when J.M started screaming hard, I started screaming 'Haaaaarrrrrd', louder and louder, clutching the comforter, jumping on my bed... I jumped up so high when he won that I actually bumped my head on our bedroom ceiling. I can just imagine my neighbours peering in my bedroom window -- they were probably thinking 'what a lunatic!' -- but I didn't care...it was a great moment for Québec and for Rideau Curling Club fans!!

J.M's win put me in a good mood today.... but also it's the first day of spring (even though it's -16 without the windchill this morning), and I spent most of the weekend cleaning my house so the place is spotless (as inspector gadget and co. (a.k.a my Mom & Dad) are coming to town next weekend). A Brier title, a new season, and a clean house -- it's great to be me!!!

The Gas Bill

For the last three months I have been extremely peeved at the ENBRIDGE gas company. Since January our gas bill has been through the roof -- it was so high that I have told P we might have to put the house up for sale and move to a less luxurious french neighbourhood.

What gets my blood pressure up is the fact that everytime I think I have the problem resolved -- they manage to screw up again - and everytime I receive the bill in the mail, its after 6pm when I can't call to yell at them because their customer service hours suck.

Since January, between P & I, we have contacted Enbridge four times to resolve our little billing problem. At the end of the last phone call I was under the impression that I would receive an updated statement in the mail detailing all of the corrections to our account.

Last night, I received the updated bill in the mail and was expecting to read that I had a HUGE credit on file. On the bill, they managed to state that I do have a large credit, but it also stated that they would still be taking millions of dollars out my account at the end of this month -- WHY?? I have no freakin' clue...I wanted to scream.

Enbridge starts taking calls at 8:00 a.m.....so this morning I politely call their billing enquiries number at 8:01. The agent on the phone was very pleasant, but proceeded to tell me that even though the bill stated they would withdraw millions of dollars at the end of the month from my bank account, they actually weren't going to do so.

Why would the bill say this, if in fact they weren't withdrawing any money??

I asked her to confirm this and so she put me on hold for 5 minutes and comes back on the line with this reply:

'Well...I am glad I decided to double check your account as you are scheduled to have a payment come out at the end of the month'

Geez....thanks for checking... and the award for best phone agent goes to.... I was not impressed at this point, but by the end of our pleasant conversation she did manage to defer any automatic withdrawals until I am in a debit situation - so she said.

In the end I was satisfied....but I cannot believe that these companies survive by having shitty customer service. Switching to a different company is more work than to phone them and have them correct your bill, but if this happens again (and believe me you will hear about it if it does) I will have P removing the gas fireplace, gas dryer and gas stove (starting at 5:30 a.m. on the next nice Saturday we have here in Embrun!).

The weekend is almost here AND I survived another week of my French training so I guess I should be celebrating instead of dwelling my little gas issue!

HAPPY ST. PATTY'S DAY

Dumb & Dumber

So it's no secret that I don't exactly LOVE the french training that I am on these days, but I still believe that it is better than being at work and having to suffer through the daily annoyance of listening to the public servant that sits across the wall from my office (don't get me started on that). However, I think I have discovered my equivilant annoyance here at my French school.

There happens to be two women who I would guess are a tad bit older than moi....but who are the most annoying two woman you have ever met. The majority of students at the school do work for CRA, but in this case I hope these women work for HRDC or some department of the government that doesn't happen to be known for its intellegence.

Let me set the scene for you....actually, let's skip that and get to the annoying part about the dynamic duo. For the sake of this post, let's refer to these ladies as Dumb & Dumber.

Dumb & Dumber work 3 classrooms down the hall from my classroom and they have voices that talk about 8 octaves louder than the average person. We normally work with our classroom door closed, but we still hear them - plain as day - bantering away as if being on language training is some sort of a field trip (perhaps Mr. Harper will deem this course a field trip and get me the hell out of here...oh...je me exuse).

It took me weeks before I openly commented about these ladies, but everytime I saw them my blood pressure would rise... the icing on the cake comes when they enter the computer lab earlier this week and begin their discussion on how they are going to start a protest web site on why Hailey Wickenheiser should be allowed to play in the NHL. Picture two non-athletic type females discussing this....I mean I love Hailey Wickenheiser just as much as the next Canadian, but I am not about to spew off at the mouth or go as far as to start a web site.

Here's an idea....why don't you talk to Hail...and see if she is even interested in this big idea before you start up your hell no we won't go web site. Clearly this post is just a rant but if you could honestly see the stupidity I have to encounter each day I am here, you would be able to relate to my insanity around this place.

On a lighter note, I enjoyed an awesome dinner last night at my friend Roz's... she claims she doesn't do much cooking but she made a great meal and we enjoyed a few glasses of wine while looking at my wedding scrapbook and playing with her adorable doggie (can we get a dog....please!). The evening was a lot of fun --- much better than having to listen to Dumb & Dumber during the course of the day.

Does anyone else have daily encounters with social morans or is it just me?

1 down, 19 to go

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of P & I living in our house. It's hard to believe that a year ago today we were receiving the keys to our very first home and making our very first mortgage payment.....I guess the tagline for this celebration should be 'only 19 more years until we pay off our mortgage!'

How depressing is that.....?

It was at the start of this year that I received another depressing piece of information. It came in the form of my annual pension plan report from my employer -- the lovely federal government. The report details your pension contributions to date and nicely outlines the earliest year you can retire. According to the report, I am committed to working until .....2035. I will admit, it was a bit of blow when I read that....it's 30 years away for cryin' outloud....and with moral in my work place at an all time low, I will be lucky to survive 5 more years.

However... (and thank god there is a however in this case) if I do the math correctly the bright side of all this depression would be that with 30 years of work left to do and only 19 years left of the mortgage to pay, I will have 10 good years of work in there that won't require me to pay a mortgage. That sounds better than Freedom 55 or whatever that B.S. is that people rave about -- of course, that all depends on if we stay in this exact house for the next 19 years and we continue working for the Feds for the next 30....which is a whole other can of worms, but for now I think I will enjoy the rest of the day, dreaming of my 10 years of a mortgage free life.

(Hopefully in 10 years Winners will have gone out of business or I know exactly where P will be spending his extra mooola!)

The Pop Shoppe

A few weeks ago at our weekly Tuesday night dinners in Maxville, it was brought to my attention that the Pop Shoppe still exists. I had no clue.

For those of you not familiar with the Shoppe, it was a store that sold different flavours of pop in bottles. It doesn't sound that great but it was....I use to love to go to The Pop Shoppe. I can remember when I was a child, I would get great pleasure out of going to the Pop Shoppe with my Dad, carefully choosing the flavours I wanted. My sister and I were into the good flavours like Black Cherry & Cream Soda, but my dad stuck to regular old Cola. (I now realize why Cola was such a popular hit with him as Cream Soda and Rum probably didn't go that well together).

The best part about the Pop Shoppe was that you saved your bottles and once your case was empty you brought them back to the Shoppe and again went through the process of choosing your next case. It was a blast....but once the The Pop Shoppe closed down in Sault Ste. Marie, I just thought that it had closed down all together across Canada (just a small town girl living in a small town world - I know).

The other night P located the Pop Shoppe in Cornwall and brought me home two Cream Soda and a Black Cherry. I was pretty pumped about the whole situation. Each bottle still requires a bottle opener -- and the bottles look exactly the same. We cracked the Black Cherry and the memories came flooding back...ahhhhhhhhhh the taste was the same as 15 years ago. I wasn't long enjoying the first sip when P told me it would be the last one I would enjoy as each bottle sold for a whopping two dollars a piece - can you believe it - that's highway robbery. Has inflation really had that much affect on the production of Pop Shoppe pop? I guess some childhood memories come with a price attached to them, but for me two bucks is well worth the taste of an ice cold black cherry!

Keeping up with the Jones'

It has become apparent to me that we live in a neighbourhood that consists of to-doers. A to-doer in my books is someone who has to be the first to do everything. Always getting things done pronto, not wanting to be the last one to do so.

I use to consider P & I a to-doer type as we like to get things done in a timely fashion, but lately, I have come to realize that we need to step it up if we are in fact going to 'keep up with the Jones'.

Every Thursday morning is garbage day on our street....I have noticed that we seem to be the last house our street to actually get our garbage to the curb, however, I didn't envision this a contest, but after Saturday's events I think it might be.

Saturday morning we awoke to the first nice day we've had in a long time. P decided to go into Ottawa with his brother for the morning, and I decided to sit on the deck and enjoy a cup of coffee while at the same time enjoying the last few hours of having our rent-a-pooch Kira (who I might add decided that before she left she should take a fairwell poop on the neighbours lawn!).

At any rate, while outside, I heard a lot of voices on the street, so when I came inside and looked out the window I realized everyone on our street was out taking down their Christmas lights. These eager beavers weren't wasting anytime, by the time I thought 'geez, today seems like a nice day to take down the X-mas lights' - our neighbours had theirs down, organized, labeled and neatly stored in their attic, ready to go for next year.

When P arrived home from Ottawa everyone was enjoying a nice cold beer in their driveway. By the time he decided to get up on the roof, everyone was starring at him because he was just starting a chore that they had completed hours ago.

I picture each of them having a list of house chores on their fridge and on Saturday when they woke up at 5:30 a.m. they rushed to fridge and read:

First nice day of March - take down X-mas lights - complete by no later than 10 a.m.

It's apparent now that I must get one of those lists going and I must make sure that P starts getting up by no later than 5:30 a.m every Saturday and now Thursdays too, if we want to compete for first place. It's time to get competive -- we'll see who has their patio furniture out first!

Houston...we have a problem.

Last night P and I arrived home to 4 inches of water sitting on our garage floor. It appears that some ice clogged the eaves-troughs which resulted in an excess amount of water backing up and pooling on a small dip in front of our garage, which then proceeded to leak inside the garage. With all the rain we had yesterday, it didn't take long to accumulate.

P & I were in Ottawa later than usual last night, so we called our neighbour to come and let our rent-a-pooch (Kira) out for a pee. He gladly agreed to do the favour, but then called us to give us the bad news about the water situation.

P drove like Mario Andretti to get home in under 15 minutes in order to examine the situation. Immediately after we received the phone call from our neighbour, I pictured Kira clinging to life on the very last stair to the house, but was relieved to find out that the water had only made its way half way up the garage floor. Kira's food and bone were safely resting on the floor without any water near them, although she was enjoying bathing in her new indoor pool.

This was the first major maintenance problem that we've had with the house since we bought it. I was eager buy a house and of course I still think that it's one of the best decisions we've made, but the joy about renting was that when you had a problem with your place you just phoned the landlord and it became their problem. Clearly...not the case for homeowners. I will say that P would make a very good landlord, he's quick to repair the situation and only uses the F-word about 10 to 15 times while doing the repair job -- not bad in my books. I will take him anyday over the landlords I've had in the past. The girls from 130-O can relate to evil Ivan who thought that a bathtub falling through the floor into the kitchen was sufficient for 6 girls to shower in for 3 years, but that story will make a good post all on its own (another time)!

To sum up our evening, the water was cleared, the rain stopped and we ordered pizza to take our mind off of the incident. All I will say today is TGIF!

LOST: Motivation (please return to Sara if found)

I have realized lately that I am lacking motivation to do anything these days. I mean I love curling and I am committed to it 110%, but outside of that I don't have the energy to do much more in the winter.

Most nights when I get home from work and don't have to curl, I make dinner, clean up, catch a tv program and hit the hay around 10:30 or 11. It's ridiculous....I can't imagine having kids at this stage....where would I find the energy? I am sure there are a pile of mothers out there that will tell me 'somehow you find it' -- and I do believe that, but it's hard to envision it at this point in my life. P and I are so busy through the week that I welcome the nights to just do nothing, but its hard to do that without feeling a little bit of guilt. I always think I will take a walk after dinner around my lovely francophone neighbourhood, but when push comes to shove, I would really rather watch a rerun of Sex in the City or Friends. The weekends that I don't curl I usually spend cleaning the house, doing laundry, groceries, etc. -- if I don't absolutely have to leave the house, then I don't. It's becoming increasingly more satisfying to stay in doors on the weekends when I don't have to curl, which again...is ridiculous.

All I can say is that if I were walking through Shopper's Drug Mart and saw an over the counter drug packaged with a label that said 'MOTIVATION' I would buy it without even reading the fine print.

But since I haven't seen this package of pills (and believe me I've browsed the aisles of the local Shopper's D) I will continue to search for some motivation for this poor little French student.

'Oh...so close'

Yesteday, I took the plunge and decided that I needed to get contact lenses. I had my first eye appointment in two years and since I knew my eyes were getting worse, I told the doctor that I thought I would like to get contacts as I am back in school, reading the board everyday, and I find that I need my glasses more and more for driving, curling, and other sports, etc. So she agreed, and set me up with her assistant for the 'teach & try' session....what an interesting half hour that was.

They have you scrub in, like your going to perform surgery on someone....in this case yourself. So I scrub in, dry off my hands and prepare to learn how to poke myself in the eye in a consistent fashion so that the end result is better vision. Years ago, I would not have wanted to be the monkey who this test was first performed.

So...let's set the stage. On the right hand side of me, there is a mirror 5 inches away from my face, and on the left hand side of me there is the teacher (Tina) 5 inches away from my face. So now that we are nice & close to the teacher & the mirror, let's begin.

Tina proudly shows me how easy it is. First you place the contact lens on the tip of your index finger, then you take your left hand and approach your eyelid from overtop the forehead (so that your eye doesn't suspect it coming) and you forcefully pull the top of your eyelid up towards your eyebrow (which I can see need a wax after looking that mirror). Then you take your other hand and forcefully grasp the bottom of your eyelid. Now that the eye is pried open and drying out, you proceed to place (ever so gently) the lens on the middle of your eyeball. Sounds easy enough, until your eyelid & eyeball start having a spasm and you can't seem to forcefully hold anything open, then your eye starts to water and Tina announces in a dramatic voice 'oh...so close...try again....you're doing good'. Thank god it's not actual surgery, because I wouldn't want to hear 'oh...so close'.

I think it took me so long because I was getting caught up in the look on my face in the mirror as I tried to gently place the lens on the eyeball. My mouth was wide open, and the wider I would open my eye, the wider I would open my mouth (why do we as humans do these things???) I started laughing a few times and that threw off my concentration....so I had to refocus and get back to the task at hand.

At any rate...after about 10 attempts of 'oh...so close' I manage to get the lens in.

Whooooooooooooooooooooooooo hoooooooooooooooooo

But doom set in as Tina announced 'now...for the left eye'.

Dun...dun...dunnnnh.

After another 15 minutes of prying open the eye, poking, and jabbing, I successfully (although I wouldn't say this word is appropriate given that it took 15 minutes for me to complete the task) was wearing my contact lenses.

Once you get the suckers on....then you have to show Miss Tina that you can take them out. I felt like saying 'Good god, give me a minute to bath in my success, would ya?'. But since Tina was on a tight schedule, I removed them a lot quicker than it took me to insert them, so I was off to the races.

I am happy to report that this morning, in under 10 minutes, I managed to put the contacts in with little to no trouble, and was quite surprised how enjoyable these babies are. I still had my mouth wide open, but hopefully that will change over time.....HOPEFULLY. For today, I am just going to enjoy reading the bored at school without squinting anymore and without wearing glasses.

Techinically....I didn't get support.

Last night I spent most of my time on the phone with Bell's so-called tech support service. Honestly....I have to wonder what the critieria is for hiring these so called 'help agents'. I called them to reset my password as per an error message on my computer -- what should have taken 5 minutes turned into an hour. The HELP agent did reset my password, but then had me uninstalling my virus scanning software, reinstalling it, checking my email, and every possible folder on my computer. I had to tell him three times that the virus software I had was working perfectly fine before he had me uninstall it. I felt I had to be the expert on MY computer and give him some support about how to support me.

At the end of a very frustrated and lengthly conversation, he says to me 'is there anything else I can assist you with this evening?' -- I felt like saying the same thing back to him, but sacrastically said 'no -- that about does it for tonight'. And of course, I get the standard 'well then...thank you for choosing Bell, you have yourself a great evening'. EVENING??? What evening?... it's over because I wasted it all on the damn phone with you.

The crappy part about this whole thing is that there is no way around tech support....if you have a problem with your Internet or computer or phone line, you have no choice but to call them -- whether they actually give you the proper support you need or not. The one thing I will say that I did appreicate was not having to talk to EMILY, Bell's famous automated customer service representative. I can't stand EMILY -- as she always says to me in her slow and unagitated voice... 'I'm sorry, I didn't understand you, can you please repeat that'. I guess my experience could have been worse if EMILY was working the night shift last night!

Can we get a dog...PLEASE

So for months now I have been hounding P to get a dog. But as usual, Mister Voice of Doom gives me all the excuses my parents gave me when I was a child.

• We're never home.
• It's not fair to the dog.
• It's a big responsibility Sara....
• You know you have to walk it and feed it everyday, not just when you feel like it....

And on ...and on... and on!

But after the events of last night, I think I've reconsidered my need for a dog.

This week, P & I are looking after his brother's dog, Kira (and I should add, we are doing this favour while P's family is off sun tanning in CUBA for a week - perhaps the jealously has set in -- as I look at my pasty white skin...but back to Kira!) She is a really good dog...and I have fallen in love with her in the 3 short days we've had her. Last night I cooked a nice dinner (roast beef, potatoes, corn, salad) P came home from reffing and we sat down to eat... it wasn't 5 minutes into the meal, when Kira decides that she needs to be sick right under the dinner table, and I am not talking a little burp, I mean 2 pounds of dog food mushed up and nicely assembled on the floor for your pleasure.

Can you say 'there goes my appetite'.

The poor thing, she just started puking and puking....so we let her outside and she puked some more on the deck, and then at the side of the house. We thought she done, so we let her back in, and there she goes again on the floor, and then on the door mat this time. I really felt bad for her the first three times, but I have to admit, once the mat fell victim to her vomit, my 'poor thing' attitude dimished just a bit.

I have no idea what made her sick....but she really did a number on our floors. P spent most of the night washing the floors, the deck, and everything else she came in contact with during the episode.

She did manage to recover a few hours after dinner. We gave her a little bit of dog food and she managed to get through the night. So we will see how she is tonight.

However, having gone through that last night, and having P do most of the clean up, I've come to the conclusion that dog sitting for a few people here may be the answer to the question 'Can we please get a dog'. They're sooo cute....BUT...I'm not convinced that we really need a dog that bad anymore.

The first one!

Well...here it goes, my very first post on my very own blog. This is something that I have been thinking about doing for a while, but wondering if I would have the time to keep it up...so we'll see!

If your reading this --- I probably sent you a link to say`check it out' -- I can' t guarantee that you will find anything overly whitty on this page, but you will find the update on me, my thoughts, and my regularly old boring life.

I guess part of the reason I wanted to start a personal blog, came from the notion I had that if someone was trying to track down S. Bellerose these days, it would be a bit of challenge. I wonder if people I knew in the past ever wonder, what ever happened to her? Likely not, but hey everyone likes to think that he or she is important to the world, so perhaps it's just an excuse to have a blog!

These days, I must admit that I get excited everytime I sign my married name on a piece of paper, but yet I still wonder if there is anyone out there looking for the original, the one and only, Sara Bellerose. To the world, I just want to say "It's ME, in the flesh, alive and well!"

No...nothing has changed other than the fact that I am now one letter lower on the alphabet, although this would have come in handy in grade school when they called you by the class list for speeches.

So...here is the petit history to bring you up to date on moi! 2005 was an exciting year for me, I turned 25, got engaged, bought a house, and tied the knot all within 9 months. I was on a bit of of high for quite some time, and I guess I still am in some ways...BUT, then came the beginning of 2006, when I turned 26 and started full-time INTENSIVE French language training. Every time I say that, I hear the words I spoke to my mother in grade 9 "I'm not taking French anymore, because I am NEVER going to use it." If I had only listened to reason, I would probably be running some part of the government by now instead of trying to adapt to it's demand for bilinigual civil servants. I don't want to drag on too much in my first post, but to date, it's been a challenging 2 months of 9-5 French training, and the bad news is I have 9 more months to go. Don't worry, this blog will keep you posted on how things are progressing, or not progessing. You can look forward to a few rants on this in the future.

I hope you will find this blog fun, a place to find out what's going on with me because most people know that I suck at returning calls and lately even emails. Feel free to post comments on here at anytime.....and if all goes well, I will respond promptly!

CHEERS...