Last weekend I made a run for the border, quite literally, and took a last-minute trip down to Bellingham to stock up on some goods I can only obtain in America.

Even though the countries are practically kissing cousins, according to the American-but-Permanent-Canadian-Resident friend I went with, I was SO OBVIOUSLY CANADIAN that I may as well have a Maple Leaf tattooed on my forehead.

Exhibit A: Stopping first for pre-shopping fuel, we went to Taco Bell. I was smaller than most 11-year olds in the restaurant. And also, noticably overwhelmed by the sheer volume of my soft drink. I swear, if Americans across the country would just take the sizes of their soft drinks at Fast Food outlets down a notch or two, they’d have no need to be interested in buying Canadian Water.

Speaking of Taco Bell… American Taco Bell is SO DIFFERENT from the plonk they pass off as Taco Bell in Canada. Three words: Cheezy Crunch Gordita. It’s all I can think about. Sitting in the border lineup to come home, I wanted to turn around and go get another one. And another. And another. In fact, I want one right now - for breakfast! Don’t even get me started on the Nachos Bell Grande…

Exhibit B: When we walked into Target I insitinctively walked through the manual doors (since they were closer after all) which required I actually used my arms to open them, instead of taking 4 more steps to use the automatic doors.

Exhibit C: Shopping around Target, I was quite literally the ONLY person who used a basket for my goods, instead of instantly hunting down a Hummer Sized giant red cart.

Exhibit D: I expressed awe and amazement (in fact, I think I stopped and just stared for at least 45 seconds) at the fact that there is an entire Liquor section in Target - that whole buying alcohol outside of a separately licensed liquor store never ceases to amaze me!

Exhibit E: I got all confused by the money, as usual. You mean I have to read the numbers on the paper, instead of just picking the one with the right colour? Sheesh.

But despite my handicap more obvious than a moose in the middle of the highway, I did manage to return to the True North Strong and Free with enough stuff from Method and Bath and Body Works to choke a pony.

I really hope those product lines make it up to Canada soon, it would save me from looking like a fool every time I wanted dish detergent and body lotion. But until then, I’ll do my best to be less conspicuous on future visits - just please let me come back for the Gorditas.

This housesitting thing has been really nice.

Housesitting I have my laptop, a cat, tv, food, beer, books.

Back at home I have a high strung roommate, clutter, papers to be filed, bills to pay, laundry to iron and fold. I also left the house in a state of really needing to be dusted, vacuumed, and otherwise rid of grime. I asked Ray to tackle the bathroom, but I’m not sure if anything else will get done. Remember - the dishwasher detergent bottle is Ray-proof. There are also a thousand other small annoyances - like the fact that I’m sick of my furniture and want new stuff that doesn’t say “I took my parents’ old furniture”, the carpets suck and could really use a professional cleaning, and the bathtub DESPERATELY needs to be re-grouted.

Of course, the annoyances weren’t so apparent until I started housesitting, and remembered what a glorious thing it is to live ALONE. And subsequently, how much I want to MOVE. NOW.

The plan, as it stands so far, is to start on the process of getting rid of all my extraneous crap (I have boxes that I’ve moved more than twice, that haven’t actually been unpacked in that time), and save up some extra money so I can pull a double rent month - keeping the current place while I move in somewhere new, so that I can both find somewhere I LOVE without the pressure of a 1 month timeframe, as well as try to avoid driving myself insane by moving my entire household in one day. I’d also have my car long since paid off by then, which is also a good thing.

The problem with that plan is that it doesn’t have me moving until at least March 2006. Six looooong months away. March is a good time for me to move, since such a high percentage of my income is commission based - and with the nature of spelunking, business slows down in the fall and winter. I’d be incurring moving expenses as my income is picking up again, instead of declining. Living alone also means my rent and utilities will pretty much double - another good reason to wait until the low-pay cycle is on its way out.

Everything logical in me says the original plan is a good, sound one, and I should stick to it.

But there’s a huge part of me that says “live in the moment - do what you feel you need to and everything else will work itself out - living on ramen and KD isn’t that bad…” Especially since I know that if I act like a responsible human being, I wouldn’t actually have to compromise all that much on the lifestyle I’ve become accustomed to living.

I think.

Someone stop me.

Alternate title: what happens when A Beautiful Mind meets Everquest.

“Right now my focus is on one of my stats that I call CER - my Chick Exposure Rate. See, as my CER increases, my probability of performing a critical hit (getting a date) dramatically increases. It’s just a matter of simple statisti-” Davis then broke off, his eyes following an attractive University of Florida co-ed on rollerblades.

“Yow! Now that’s a perfect level ten,” Davis said appreciatively.

Davis explained that talking to the “level ten” girl was out of the question due to his lack of experience. “When you first start an RPG, you don’t immediately strap on your leather armor and charge headlong at a Lich King. You’ve got to work your way up to it. And so it is with women.”

Basically this guy has decided to approach life as an RPG, in order to battle his social anxiety. He’s had to logically break things down into a situation he understands, in order to function as a socially apt human being.

I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or break out the 20D D20 (I just lost all my nerd cred).

Remember a while back, when I talked about my physical type?

And that part where I said all of those were negotiable, and don’t really matter?

I think I lied.

Because as much as I may get along with guys of all shapes, sizes and colours, a pair of big chocolate coloured eyes, on a shaggy-rock-star-esque haired brunette with a killer smile will cause me to swoon.

Every. Single. Time.

…I re-joined the ranks of single women.

So far it’s been one of my best years on record.

This is the longest I’ve been single at one stretch in 10 years - pretty much since I discovered boys - and holy hannah the fun I’d been missing!

So I celebrated this morning with nookie and pannekoeken.

Here’s to another fabulous year - whatever it brings.

EXTREME CUTENESS AHEAD!

Cats in Sinks

You’ve been warned.

I went to a wine tasting last night (oh god, I’m becoming one of those people) and just wanted to do a little brain dump on some of the notables:

Stickleback White (Semillon, Chardonnay, Verdelho): it’s being marketed as “Fresh Crisp Zesty” and that’s exactly what this wine is. Stands up well to extreme chilling, and a perfect selection to drink ice cold in the hot, hot sun.

Angove’s 2002 McLaren Vale Shiraz (note: link to 2003 tasting notes): This is hands down the best Shiraz I’ve ever tasted. Big, bold, with all of the flavours you’d expect, and none that you wouldn’t. Other Shiraz’s should aspire to this.

Peter Lehmann Barossa Riesling 2003: Delightfully smooth and balanced. Very surprising for a Riesling - total flavour harmony.

DeBortoli Noble one Botrytis Semillon 2001 AH-MAY-ZING! A friend mentioned that he could lick late-harvest wine off of naked bodies all day, if only he could make money doing it. After tasting this one, I have to agree. I’m going to pick up at least a couple bottles of this ASAP - I recommend you do the same.

I should really invest in a wine fridge soon-ish. I have a feeling this could become a very expensive hobby.

Step 1: go download Google Talk.

Step 2: add me as a contact (peechie [at] gmail [dot] com).

Step 3: chill and enjoy!

54-40 T-Shirt

Originally uploaded by peechie.

At the Spelunking Club, there are a number of private events that take place.

Last night there was a “win to get in” concert and wine tasting sponsored by one of the local radio stations, and 54-40 were the feature entertainment.

Of course, I didn’t win to get in - but one of the perks of working at the Spelunking Club is that I have keys that get me nearly everywhere - including the “green room.”

Thanks for signing the t-shirt guys! And the new album (Yes to Everything) sounds pretty darned good!

I have no internet at work.

I can’t connect to my work email at home.

My job is about to spontaneously combust.

Help.

(UPDATE: Aug. 24 5:45pm - things are finally fixed. Fscking technology.

I was going to spend most of the evening putting together a really great photo entry documenting everything I did between Saturday and today, including new tires, new shoes, a great dinner, good friends, good wine, a picnic, a cat, a nap, a seal, and new books.

But my camera battery died.

So you get NOTHING.

Sorry.

It’s Friday night.

I managed to get eleventy frillion loose ends tied up at work today.

I got my hair done.

I went swimming.

I had drinks and dinner on a patio with friends.

I am now watching TV, covered in cat.

Success.

While I’m not ready to say that it sucks being single (because HELLO! It’s kinda fabulous!), occasionally it’s inconvenient. One of those inconveniences is attending weddings.

I’ve got an RSVP card for myself and “guest” that I need to get back to the betrothed in a week. Do I bother with a guest? Even though I’m not really dating anyone specific, I know many lovely gentlemen who I’m sure would be pleased as punch to don a suit, and accompany me to what promises to be a rockin’ good time of a wedding.

But there’s also that part of me that doesn’t want to bring a “random date” to what will be a pretty small and intimate wedding, where most people will know most other people. As good a friend as the date may be, there’s a 99.9% chance that he’ll have zero connection to anyone there but me - and that just has a whole gigolo vibe about it. So there’s a big part of me that thinks I may as well fly solo - these people are fun, and I always have a good time with them anyway.

But what happens if, in a month, there’s someone in the picture that I really would like to go to the wedding with? Do I RSVP with the +1 just in case? That way it leaves things open? Do I ask a friend to be a backup date (I know, nobody wants to be that person), in case I’m not with anyone by the time the wedding day rolls around? Do I be like this guy and find someone cute from craigslist to bring along (at least then I can make sure I pick someone who can dance)?

Then there’s the problem that Richard describes (which he wrote about concerts, but I think applies equally well to weddings):

Going to events “alone” when there are hundreds, sometimes thousands of other attendees sucks. A lot. Before is boring with nobody to talk to to pass the time. During is boring with nobody to dance with or steal a glace to see how they’re enjoying it. After is boring because there is nobody to compare notes with. It still beats sitting at home the day after wishing I had gone, but it’s not all it could be.

I feel like I’m stuck in that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie is trying to figure out what to do with the +1 on her invite.

So, what would you do? Feel free to also throw in a “get over yourself because someone else’s wedding is in no way about you at all” as well. But if there is even one snarky comment that says “I don’t know what I’d do because I’m blissfully in looooooooooove and never go anywhere alone,” well then as happy as I am with my current state, I will still cut you, bitch.

Coming back from lunch today, we ended up taking a wee detour past Second Beach Pool. Sadly, we didn’t stop to go for a swim… but it was mighty tempting.

Now it’s all I can think about.

So tomorrow after work, I figure I’ll hit either Second Beach Pool or Kits Pool. Who’s with me?!?!?

I usually end up leaving work around 3 on Fridays - how’s a swim in the late afternoon, then a drink or two on a patio somewhere afterward sound?

For someone who is so Type A, I strangely hate making appointments.

Sure, I can make plans - and usually do (the volume of places to be and people to see on my calendar is enough to frighten most people). However, appointments? Hate them.

Mostly (I think) because I’m at the mercy of someone else’s calendar, which usually doesn’t mesh that well with mine. These things also invariably take much longer than the allotted appointment time. And time is one thing I don’t have to spare.

A list of people I currently need to see:
-The Mechanic (scheduled for tomorrow, rendering me transportation-less for the day - I’m ready to have a panic attack over it all)
-The Doctor
-The Dentist
-The Massage Therapist
-The Hairdresser

Also, people who are likely kindof peeved that despite my newfound mobility, I’ve still been too damn busy to see:
-The Parents
-The Grandparents
-The Brothers
-Too many friends to count

And while I love and miss everyone - I have to say sorry, but if you want to ensure that you actually get to see me, you have to accept that spontaneity has gone right out the window.

I have no choice but to resort to those words I hate: Call me and Make an Appointment.