Happy New Year and all that Jazz.

Look for my Year in Review and Resolutions posts coming up in the next few days.

Hope all your 2003’s weren’t too hard on you, and all the best in 2004!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bottle of Moet to chill.

I am back. I am well. Everything was lovely and then some.

I am tired.

I’m heading out of town for a few days, and plan on leaving as much technology as possible behind, including the computer. So no blogging from me until early next week sometime.

I’d like to leave you all a gift, and my gift to you is a story. It’s my favourite Christmas story of all time, because it transcends race and religion, and really brings out the true meaning of the holiday season.

The story is Barrington Bunny by Martin Bell. I hope you all enjoy it, and have a warm and wonderful Christmas (or other winter celebration of your choice) with those you love.

-Jen

Barrington Bunny

Once upon a time, in a large forest, there lived a very furry bunny. He had one lop ear, a tiny black nose, and unusually shiny eyes. His name was Barrington. Barrington was not really a very handsome bunny. He was brown and speckled, and his ears didn’t stand up right. But he could hop, and he was, as I have said, very furry.

In a way, winter is fun for bunnies. After all, it gives them an opportunity to hop in the snow and then turn around to see where they have hopped. So, in a way, winter was fun for Barrington.

But in another way, winter made Barrington sad. For, you see, winter marked the time when all of the animal families got together in their cozy homes to celebrate Christmas. He could hop, and he was very furry. But as far as Barrington knew, he was the only bunny in the forest. When Christmas Eve finally came, Barrington did not feel like going home all by himself. So he decided he would hop for awhile in the clearing in the center of the forest.

Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. Barrington made tracks in the fresh snow. Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. Then he cocked his head and looked back at the wonderful designs he had made.

“Bunnies,” he thought to himself, “can hop. And they are very warm, too, because of how furry they are.” (But Barrington didn’t really know whether or not this was true of all bunnies, since he had never met another bunny.)

When it got too dark to see the tracks he was making, Barrington made up his mind to go home. On his way, however, he passed a large oak tree. High in the branches, there was a great deal of excited chattering going on. Barrington looked up. It was a squirrel family! What a marvelous time they seemed to be having.

“Hello, up there,” called Barrington.

“Hello, down there,” came the reply.

“Having a Christmas party?” asked Barrington.

“Oh, yes!” answered the squirrels. “It’s Christmas Eve. Everybody is having a
Christmas party!”

“May I come to your party?” said Barrington softly.

“Are you a squirrel?”

“No.”

“What are you, then?”

“A bunny.”

“A bunny?”

“Yes.”

“Well, how can you come to the party if you’re a bunny? Bunnies can’t climb trees.”

“That’s true,” said Barrington thoughtfully. “But I can hop, and I’m very furry and warm.”

“We’re sorry,” called the squirrels. “We don’t know anything about hopping and being furry, but we do know that in order to come to our house, you have to be able to climb trees.”

“Oh, well,” said Barrington. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” chattered the squirrels.

And the unfortunate bunny hopped off toward his tiny house. It was beginning to snow when Barrington reached the river. Near the river bank was a wonderfully constructed house of sticks and mud. Inside there was singing.

“It’s the beavers,” thought Barrington. “Maybe they will let me come to their party.” And so he knocked on the door.

“Who’s out there?” called a voice.

“Barrington Bunny,” he replied. There was a long pause and then a shiny beaver head broke the water.

“Hello, Barrington,” said the beaver.

“May I come to your Christmas Party?” asked Barrington.

The beaver thought for awhile, and then he said, “I suppose so. Do you know how to swim?”

“No,” said Barrington, “but I can hop, and I am very furry and warm.”

“Sorry,” said the beaver. “I don’t know anything about hopping and being furry, but I do know that in order to come to our house, you have to be able to swim.”

“Oh, well,” Barrington muttered, his eyes filling with tears. “I suppose that’s true — Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” called the beaver. And he disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Even being as furry as he was, Barrington was beginning to get cold. And the snow was falling so hard that his tiny, bunny eyes could scarcely see what was ahead of him. He was almost home, however, when he heard the excited squeaking of field mice beneath the ground. “It’s a party,” thought Barrington. And suddenly he blurted out through his

tears, “Hello, field mice. This is Barrington Bunny. May I come to your party?” But the wind was howling so loudly and Barrington was sobbing so much that no one heard him. And when there was no response at all, Barrington just sat down in the snow and began to cry with all his might.

“Bunnies,” he thought, “aren’t any good to anyone. What good is it to be furry and to be able to hop if you don’t have any family on Christmas Eve?” Barrington cried and cried. When he stopped crying, he began to bite on his bunny’s foot, but he did not move from where he was sitting in the snow. Suddenly, Barrington was aware that he was not alone. He looked up and strained his shiny eyes to see who was there. To his surprise, he saw a great silver wolf. The wolf was large and strong, and his eyes flashed fire. He was the most beautiful animal Barrington had ever seen.

For a long time, the silver wolf didn’t say anything at all. He just stood there and looked at Barrington with those terrible eyes.

Then slowly and deliberately the wolf spoke. Barrington,” he asked in a gentle voice, “why are you sitting in the snow?”

“Because it’s Christmas Eve,” said Barrington, “and I don’t have any family, and bunnies aren’t any good to anyone.”

“Bunnies are, too, good,” said the wolf. “Bunnies can hop, and they are very warm.”

“What good is that?” Barrington sniffed.

“It is very good indeed,” the wolf went on, “because it is a gift that bunnies are given, a free gift with no strings attached. And every gift that is given to anyone is given for a reason. Someday you will see why it is good to hop and to be warm and furry.”

“But it’s Christmas,” moaned Barrington, “and I’m all alone. I don’t have any family at all.”

“Of course you do,” replied the great silver wolf. “All of the animals in the forest are your family.” And then the wolf disappeared. He simply wasn’t there. Barrington had only blinked his eyes, and when he looked — the wolf was gone.

“All of the animals in the forest are my family,” thought Barrington. “It’s good to be a bunny. Bunnies can hop. That’s a gift.” And then he said it again. “A gift. A free gift.” On into the night, Barrington worked. First he found the best stick that he could. (And that was difficult because of the snow.) Then hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. To beaver’s house. He left the stick just outside the door. With a note on it that read: “Here is a good stick for your house. It is a gift. A free gift. No strings attached. Signed, a member of your family.”

“It is a good thing that I can hop,” he thought, “because the snow is very deep.” Then Barrington dug and dug. Soon he had gathered together enough dead leaves and grass to make the squirrels’ nest warmer. Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. He laid the grass and leaves just under the large oak tree and attached this message: “A gift. A free gift. From a member of your family.”

It was late when Barrington finally started home. And what make things worse was that he knew a blizzard was beginning. Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. Soon poor Barrington was lost. The wind howled furiously, and it was very, very cold. “It certainly is cold,” he said out loud. “It’s a good thing I’m so furry. But if I don’t find my way home pretty soon, even I might freeze!”

“Squeak. Squeak….”

And then he saw it — a baby field mouse lost in the snow. And the little mouse was crying. “Hello, little mouse,” Barrington called. “Don’t cry. I’ll be right there.” Hippity-hop, and Barrington was beside the tiny mouse.

“I’m lost,” sobbed the little fellow. “I’ll never find my way home, and I know I’m going to freeze.”

“You won’t freeze,” said Barrington. “I’m a bunny, and bunnies are very furry and warm. You stay right where you are, and I’ll cover you up.”

Barrington lay on top of the little mouse and hugged him tight. The tiny fellow felt himself surrounded by warm fur. He cried for awhile, but soon, snug and warm, he fell asleep. Barrington had only two thoughts that long, cold night. First he thought, “It’s good to be a bunny. Bunnies are very furry and warm.” And then, when he felt the heart of the tiny mouse beneath him beating regularly, he thought, “All of the animals in the forest are my family.”

Next morning, the field mice found their little boy, asleep in the snow, warm and snug beneath the furry carcass of a dead bunny. Their relief and excitement were so great that they didn’t even think to question where the bunny had come from. And as for the beavers and the squirrels, they still wonder which member of their family left the little gifts for them that Christmas Eve. After the field mice had left, Barrington’s frozen body simply lay in the snow. There was no sound except that of the howling wind. And no one anywhere in the forest noticed the great silver wolf who came to stand beside that brown, lop-eared carcass.

But the wolf did come.

And he stood there.

Without moving or saying a word.

All Christmas Day.

Until it was night.

And then he disappeared into the forest.

Work has been hella stressful lately. Hopefully today was the “head” that it’s all coming to, and things will start to simmah down.

Fewer things are more relaxing than 2 hours in a massage chair getting a festive manicure and pedicure. To increase the joy - make it one of those rare occasions where you hit the “power off” button on the cell phone. Unexpected bonus: I can’t do dishes, laundry, cleaning, etc. until tomorrow, or I’ll ruin my nails.

My roommate is supposed to be on an airplane to T.O. in just under 2 hours. Her half-packed suitcase is still on the couch, and she hasn’t made it home yet. She’s a workaholic and won’t leave work. Stupid psycho bitch. If she misses her flight and ends up moping around here all night I’m gonna be uber pissed off. I’ve been looking forward to her getting the hell outta here for weeks, and I’m not in the mood to put up with a delay.

My life has been a whirlwind of randomness lately.

Between circles of friends, family, work & personal stuff, not to mention the holidays, I feel I’ve hardly had time to breathe. So here’s what’s been going on with me for the past little while:
(more…)

busy. cranky. tired. overwhelmed. will write later.

So I just took a little bathroom break at work (because you all wanted to know that, right) and dutifully washed my hands, as I’m inclined to do after such a task, and was staring blankly at the paper towel dispenser.

But today I stared slightly less blankly, and noticed the paper towel manufacturer.

Our office paper towel is made by “SCA TISSUE NORTH AMERICA”

Now I have visions in my head of RenFair people emerging from the woods and marching into some Fordist factory (in full costume, of course) to produce paper products. Their website makes no mention of this, and has nothing to do with the SCA - but I know different!

Just don’t get those kilts caught in the rolling machines boys!

Today has been an incredibly Good Day.

I had perfect skytrain timing for my morning commute.

I registered for my Yoga class in January.

I was approved for the best group in a funds-matching program called Learn$ave - and will receive up to $4500 in government cashola, plus some financial planning services.

I had a great day at work - complete with one of my occasional “brilliant ideas” (I love it when I have those).

I hope I didn’t jinx it - wouldn’t it be ironic though, if the rest of my day suddenly went down the tubes :p

I think that today, I had one of those life-impacting moments, one of those “Where were you when….” moments that everyone seems to love to share.

Where were you when Elvis died? Not born yet.

Where were you when Princess Dianna died? At an amateur stock-car race in Victoria.

Where were you when they caught Saddam Hussein? Sleeping peacefully, except I forgot to set the sleep timer on my TV, so I was rudely awoken at 4:00 AM to the sound of anyone who was at the press-conference this morning cheering uncontrolably. Great.

I’m actually sortof surprised that I didn’t get the “You ain’t no geek, you poseur” result

I just had a lavendar bath.

oh. my. god.

I feel soooooooo good.

Blogger keeps having errors publishing. Grr.

I know I mentioned I was starting Body-for-LIFE on Monday, but that didn’t quite happen.

Tomorrow is the day though!

And to prove it, I’ve started a new blog to chronicle the process!

Wish me luck!

With the recent bruhaha going on over BC Ferries here with the Union fighting for whatever it is they’re fighting for (I haven’t actually heard - all the media tells me is that the Union “claims it’s about more than wages”) I wanted to add my own little tangent.

Comments on this are already abundant on both Donna and Darren’s sites. So rather than infiltrate their pages, I figured I’d start my own thread here.

One of the discussions that came up was the attempted unionization of McDonald’s. I spent a little over three years at my McJob when I was in high school, and I must say that I was treated really well there. Perhaps my boss, the franchisee, was an exception, but I kind of doubt it. McDonald’s was so highly regulated and automated that I don’t think even he had a whole lot of control over how employees are treated. It’s actually run almost like a union shop already - without the part about protecting idiots simply because of senority.

The scheduling system is automated to both comply with labour laws, and maximize efficiency based on staff availability and customer volume.

There is a set disciplinary system in place, complete with set numbers of warnings and times written up for an offense that don’t fluctuate. The only things someone could be fired for immediately were serious offenses like stealing. Duh. I bet if McD’s were unionized they would no longer be able to do that without a fight from the Union (silly as it seems).

This system also includes a regular review process in which employees who are performing their job with any degree of competency at all receive regular incremental wage raises twice a year. If unions were present, there would be no incentive to perform the job well to receive your earned compensation - because you would get your raise for just showing up each day (and stealing if you want to).

There is also a grievance process. Staff are encouraged to use postage paid forms to submit their complaints directly to their regional head office. These complaints are then typed, voided of details identifying the complainant, and returned to the franchisee, who is also evaluated based upon his/her handling of the complaint.

The other point I feel it’s important to address is that people go into jobs knowing full well what to expect. If you’re applying at McDonald’s, you know that you will be either making or serving fast food in a highly automated environment. You will receive training, but not a lot of skill or interpretation is required to perform the job, and your compensation reflects that. You also know that the restaurant (at least the drive-thru) is open 24 hours now, and you may well be expected to work shifts between 4 and 8 hours any time during business hours.

The same goes for Starbucks, Translink, BC Ferries, Telus etc. You know you will be making coffee, or driving a bus, or ringing up cafeteria food, or photocopying.

I know there are a shortage of jobs out there right now, and it’s not easy to say “if you don’t like your job, get another one or go to school to improve your skills” - because that’s not always an option. The better answer is to say “I’m sorry you don’t like your job, but do whatever is in your power to either find something else, or find value in your work as long as you have to be there.”

I do think Unions are dinosaurs, and don’t have a place in the 20th century workplace. I don’t think that the labour system is fair to workers in general either. If Unions want to redeem themselves, why not fight for all workers (like they did when they originally formed) and try to reform the labour code? Childcare, Equal Pay for Equal Time, better compensation for overtime, better (or any) benefits packages subsidized by companies and the government for all workers - the list goes on - where are these issues in Union negotiations?

These arguments don’t come up, because if the system reformed, the pseudo-need that Unions create for themselves would fade, and they would disappear. And people like Jimmy Hoffa would no longer be pseudo celebrities and live off the dues from the “working man.”

Can’t I be Anti-Union and Pro-Labour Reform? Where’s the Union for that?