Category Archives: Home Sweet Home

Movin’ on Up

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Man, when things happen in the “new condo construction” world, they happen fast.

It doesn’t help that despite having to solicit the services of “experts” to make this thing happen (mortgage advisors, lawyers, etc.) they all expect us to tell them what exactly is going on. I suppose that in any other real-estate transaction, “us” would generally be a Realtor, but there isn’t one in this situation, since we’re buying directly from the developer.

Kitchen

Suffice to say, there has been no hand-holding through the process.

So it’s been a stressful couple of days.

We scheduled an inspection of the unit for yesterday morning, and in between scheduling and the actual inspection we were informed that our closing date is going to be January 2nd.

Yesterday ended up being a complete clusterfuck of dealing with the inspection (nothing major is wrong, a couple fixes and some finishing work – should be easypeasy), dealing with the lawyer, booking a moving time and booking movers.

The biggest thing complicating matters right now is the fact that the GST has gone down twice since we initially signed our agreement to purchase.

And nobody ever asked when, exactly, we signed our contract (or apparently even looked at the contract). You’d think they would – it’s a pretty important date, since it determines how much GST we pay out of pocket.

Main living area

We finally spent a few hours last night looking up the legislation ourselves, and found that we do pay the 7% out of pocket (thankfully we had initially budgeted for that anyhow), and can fill in a short form to send to the CRA to get 1% back to make it equal to 6%. We’ll actually come out ahead on this one, since if you qualify for the New Homebuyer’s GST Rebate (which we don’t, since our home – like most in Vancouver – is well above the $450,000 threshold), they reduce the amount of your Transitional Period GST Rebate.

Another thing about “New Homebuyer” this and “GST Rebate” that: there are a number of programs for New Homebuyers to save GST, Property Transfer tax and to withdraw funds from one’s RRSP without penalty. There are also GST rebate programs for both new homebuyers, and any homebuyers completing a purchase bridging transitional periods around a reduction. Every. Single. Professional, without exception, has confused the programs with each other and told us we qualify for either none or all of them. Which isn’t true.

You’d think that the purchase of new property in Vancouver wouldn’t be such a challenge for those whose job is it to broker the sales of property in Vancouver, since so much of the real estate in the city is brand new construction. Apparently it is.

Also, while everyone and their dog has said that GST is going down to 5% January 1st, I can’t find anything that says the bill to approve the reduction has gone further than approval by the House of Commons (no approval from the Senate, no Royal Assent) – though if it does happen, everything we’ve found suggests we can fill out yet another form to get another 1% back from the CRA.

But! After some insane crazy-making research and a mostly sleepless night, I think we’re pretty much set.

And speaking of sets, I’ve created one with some of the pictures we took during the inspection. That’s our new kitchen and part of the living area, and you can check the rest of the place out on my flickr stream.

Shoo-Fly

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If you, like me, live anywhere near the Vancouver area you’re probably innundated right now with fruit flies.

Oh my holy hell, it’s like a fly convention in here. Despite religiously cleaning up any spills, keeping foodstuffs hidden away and taking out the garbage, all it takes is for us to make dinner or pour a glass of wine and they’re EVERYWHERE, again.

But!

I’ve found a really easy way to get rid of them!

So I figured I’d share:

Find a small jar or container you don’t particularly like (I’m using a small, empty mustard jar, but one of those tacky promotional mugs would work just as well). Put an inch or so of red wine into it (it’s the liquid the flies seem to like best ’round these parts, plus the dark colour means you can’t see the pile o’ corpses in the bottom). Put a couple drops of liquid dish-soap into the wine.

The flies are drawn to the wine, but when they land on it, the dish soap has broken the surface tension and the wee buggers instantly plummet through the wine to a grapey death at the bottom of the jar.

We’ve had this out for about a week, and have been fly-free ever since.

You’re welcome :)

Whaddya call a guy with no arms and no legs, hanging on a wall?

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I’m going positively squirrely lately with the lack of home-improvement/beautification efforts happening around my domicile.

Since we’re moving in a few months, all of that kind of stuff has been put on hold. There’s no point spending our hard-earned cash on things that likely won’t work out in a completely different space.

But who can say no to free!

Duane Storey’s giving away 8×12 prints of his beautiful photography to the first 20 people who post about his new photo blog.

So here I am!

We’ve got art in our place from Korea, Japan, China, England, Italy and Sweden (if Ikea prints count) – but nothing local so far.

I’m thinking this one would be a beautiful start to a local collection on our walls.

Go check him out – you’ll be glad you did!

Surrounded

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Generally I’m a bit skeptical when it comes to new gadgets.

They usually come trussed up in pretty boxes, covered in promises that they’ll revolutionize my life and I’ll forget what ever came before them.

So far only my TiVo has ever lived up to that promise. And if you know TiVo, you’ll know that it’s a pretty tough act to follow.

So imagine my surprise when I received the Rocketfish Wireless Rear Speaker Kit to review – and found that, in line with the promises on the box, it just works.

The promise is that you’ll hook up the transmitter to your sound system using simple speaker cables, then place the receiver within 100′ and hook your rear speaker cables into it. The “CD Quality” sound is transmitted over a 2.4GHz wireless signal, and voila – you can hear a mustang MiG-28 scream across your room as Iceman and Maverick duke it out in the skies. It literally took me 10 minutes to set the whole thing up. And I really mean me! Even I – who normally foists these kind of things off on Neil because I just can’t be bothered – found it really, ridiculously easy to figure out.

There are only a couple potential issues with this solution:

1. If you have truly open concept living, it may not work super well for you. Both components require DC power to operate, so while the units don’t require direct line-of-sight to work, you do want a power outlet pretty darned near where you’re plugging things in to avoid unsightly wires – the problem you’re trying to solve in the first place. If your couch is smack dab in the middle of a loft, you’re going to have to run cables anyway.

2. The sound is good, to me, on my system. I have basically destroyed my upper register hearing, and my surround sound system is one of those $100 combo units (dvd-player, receiver, 5 identical speakers in a box) – so there’s not a lot of fine tuning going on in my audio visual experience. If you’re a die-hard audio-snob, I can’t vouch for the unit’s performance on your $1500 speakers.

At about $100 USD, the kit is completely reasonably priced for those who purchase high quality AV products. Personally – while I don’t know that I’d spend that kind of money on my own system (because generally I don’t care enough), it got me using the rear speakers that had been sitting in a box for over a year, because I couldn’t be bothered running ugly cables around my room.

And that’s pretty awesome as far as I’m concerned.


Hey Internets

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I’m having a party.

You’re invited (link removed).

Unfortunately, I think you need an evite account to view that.

But seriously – come on over, it should be a good time!

Dear Blogland

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I could certainly use a bit of a pick-me-up today.

So I ask you, blogiverse, to indulge me in my wee pity party, while I present to you a list of things that suck today:

I am still jobless. Not only that, but of the dozen or so applications I’ve sent out, I’ve received exactly one phone interview (which is as far as that candidate experience went). Otherwise, no responses at all. In addition to that, at least two of the jobs I applied for were re-posted within a week of sending my application. It’s not like I wasn’t qualified, and didn’t demonstrate that in my resume or cover letter, so it’s pretty sucky to realize I don’t even merit a phone call.

And while I would normally console myself with the procurement of something pretty or shiny (say what you will about filling personal voids with material goods), the EI gods who determined that unemployed workers in BC are entitled to 55% of their earnings, up to a maximum of [insert figure that launches one into abject poverty here], have convinced me I’d rather have groceries and electricity than trinkets.

The condo we purchased, waaaaaaaay back in May 2006, that was supposed to complete in July 2007 has been pushed back. The official word from the Realtor representing the developers is that they “hope to have everyone in by December.” That basically negates the awesome mortgage pre-approval interest rates we secured for a July closing (rates right now are at least 0.2% higher than what we got – but our rates are only good for 120 days from approval) and means we get to spend an extra 6 months pouring rent money into someone else’s pocket.

I make a shitty, shitty housewife. Being at home all the time means I go stir-crazy, and also lose all concept of space and time. I rarely know what day it is, and have no idea where time goes when it passes. All I know is that all of those “things” I figured would be so easy to get done around the house, still aren’t.

There are doggy-hair tumbleweeds blowing around everywhere, there is always laundry to do, the bathrooms are shamefully filthy (think college aged male bathroom levels of icky), the kitchen sink is always full of dishes – especially today, since I overcooked the basmati rice last night and made quite a dog’s breakfast of the aloo gobi (nothing says “good morning” like a pot full of tepid water and leftover stuck-on curry bits).

Obviously none of the aforementioned are terribly tragic compared to any number of things going on in the rest of the world, but they’re certainly harshing my buzz. And I still definitely feel entitled to a bit of a mope about my situation.

So blogosphere – I implore you – give me something to smile about!

Tell me something awesome that’s going on in your world. Give me an example of the best opening for a cover letter you’ve ever seen. Leave a comment with anything funny or smile-inducing (I have tried both Knut and the hand-holding Otters – I need something stronger).

And hopefully in a day or two I’ll return to tell you something that doesn’t suck.

Checking In

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I keep meaning to write, but I really have nothing exciting or interesting to say.

But I got sick of seeing the Fiber Bar entry, so here is a boring, uninteresting update.

Read on if you dare…

Because I have no kids, and don’t know too many people who do, I was completely oblivious to the fact that March 15, 2008 is the first weekend of Spring Break. So plans to have a wedding at a destination resort that day were firmly thwarted. The weekend following that is Easter. Of the remaining March Saturdays we’ve decided on the 29th. So a year from today we’ll be gettin’ hitched. Kookookachoo.

I’ve enlisted the services of a professional resumé writer, and used the past week as time to get my portfolio together and get a bunch of other long-overdue errands done. I still don’t like being at home all day, but I am getting used to it.

We’re hosting the 2nd annual Cinco de Mayo fiasco. Hopefully with slightly less hostess-experienced fiascos this year. That said, if you were invited last year, check your email inboxes (or the spam folders – it was sent through evite). If you somehow didn’t get an invite this year, this is the one occasion I open my house for all and sundry to partake in the debauchery and tequila. Comment or drop me a line if you’d like to join us.

Today I’m also playing Florence Nightengale. There’s some sort of flu-like thing going around and Neil has it. We also had his youngest sister over last night, and she sounds pretty sick too. So far I’m calling it the Watkiss Death Rattle, and popping ColdFX like there’s no tomorrow in an effort to ward it off. Then again, Gill has it too, so perhaps it’s some kind of Nerd Flu.

See. Told you life was boring ’round these parts. Anything exciting up with any of you?

Update (5:26pm): I am feeling snotty, and a wee bit achey. This does not bode well.

Homebody

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So today is the first day of the rest of my life. Or something like it. In any case, last Thursday was my last day at the former job, and after a lovely long weekend, today is the first Monday in a while that I’m at home with no idea when I’ll be back at work.

Hopefully it’s sooner rather than later.

Those who know me well beyond this blog know that one of my worst nightmares is to be a “stay-at-home” anything. I don’t begrudge anyone else their choice to not work outside the home or even “work” at all in the traditional sense (because holy hell, children and some academic pursuits are serious work), but that lifestyle is certainly not for me. I really enjoy having a job, contributing to a team and creating something at the end of the day that helps an entity outside of my four walls succeed and prosper.

But I don’t have that right now. So I’ve made a list of things that, in addition to looking for something outside these walls, will make a bit of a difference inside them.

I have a friend (who will remain nameless) whose domestic partner didn’t work outside the home. While I’m not sure if he ever said these words to her, he told me that he didn’t mind bringing home the bacon, as long as she optimized her time at home to do two things:
1. Keep the house clean
2. Keep herself hot.

He figured that some quality time at the gym and with the vacuum should be easily accomplishable with the 8-10 hours/day available that she’d otherwise spend at work – and that arrangement kept him perfectly happy.

I’ve set the same standards for myself.

Now that I’m back to 100% after the jetlag fiasco, I’m going to attempt to get back to working out daily. I feel far better when I do it and have all this extra time on my hands – so no excuses.

There are a bunch of things around here that nether Neil nor I enjoy or make the effort to do: Cleaning inside and around appliances (goodbye mystery slime under the crisper drawer), cleaning out the junk drawers (goodbye four-month-old pizza receipts and dead pens), take down the outside Christmas lights (goodbye white-trash balcony), etc. There are also a bunch of things I’ve been meaning to sell (books, dvds, sporting equipment) that I couldn’t be arsed to before – I may as well do it now.

And then of course, there’s that whole “finding a new job” thing. That one will probably take up most of my time and effort, and I hope it pays off and I’m working outside my home again, long before I get to “scrub the floor behind the toilets” on my list.

I <3 U CRA

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I always knew there was a reason I liked tax accountants.

Neil was a bit… delinquent… in his taxes and hasn’t done his 2005 return yet. Considering the deadline for 2006 is now coming up, he sucked it up and called an accountant to deal with filing it all. He had some capital gains/losses and real-estate transactions that spanned the years to deal with, so it made sense to have a professional go through it all to make sure it was all tickety boo.

But thus far, the best piece of accounting service we’ve gotten is some advice on a way to move some money around that we already have and make thousands.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that we’ve put a deposit down on a condo that’s supposed to be completed sometime this summer.

Well we figured that because Neil has already owned a home, we don’t qualify for the New Homebuyer’s Plan to withdraw up to $20,000 from an RRSP, tax-free, for part of the down payment.

We were wrong. “We” don’t qualify – but “I” do. Each person on the deed for a house may contribute individually from their RRSPs, up to $20,000 to be repaid over 15 years. So if “We” qualified, we could each contribute that much (if we had it of course).

Since the initial deposit on the condo, Neil and I have been furiously dumping money into a high-interest savings account over the past year in order to minimize the amount of mortgage we’ll have upon completion and cover closing costs. Thanks to some shrewd finanacial management on both our parts, it’s a sum nearing the $20k mark.

Conveniently, thanks to my compulsive need to be employed, even when said employment didn’t yeild enough income to contribute regularly, my RRSP allowance had more than enough room to contribute that amount.

So, with 72 hours to spare before the 2006 contribution deadline, Neil and I wrangled together a bank draft and RRSP account, and moved our money in the nick of time.

What did this accomplish?

Instead of my usual $1000 tax return again this year, I’ll be getting a cheque from the Canada Revenue Agency for a whopping $6000+. The conditions of getting that money into the house, along with qualifying for the plan, are just that the money must remain in the RRSP for 89 days (no problem there) and the bank will have to write a cheque for the amount directly to the sellers of the property, to ensure it’s being used for a home purchase.

Of course it’s not all sunshine and rainbows and frolicking in large piles of cash. That extra $5k will be used for some significant expenses, including going back into the house account, so we can meet our savings goal if emergencies come up, or my unemployment lasts any significant period of time.

In the meantime, though, it’s nice to be able to use one of the government’s RRSP borrowing programs for a significant benefit. I had no idea the program could be quite as beneficial as it has been to us this year.

And we very nearly missed it – if not for a poignant question about our financial planning and some great advice from our accountant.

Tax accountants. Not only are they useful, they are also (from my limited experience working in a firm) HIGHLY entertaining when intoxicated.

Be Glad This Blog Ain’t Scratch ‘n’ Sniff

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Normally I pride myself on being a person who can unquestionably hold it together and perform, nay exceed under pressure. When the going gets tough, the tough call Jen!

Until today.

Today, I completely lost my shit (figuratively), because the dog lost hers (literally).

I left work a smidge early today to go home and put together some final notes on a bit of market research I was going through for a client (reading and summarizing research is always best done on a comfy couch as far as I’m concerned), and was feeling pretty pleased with myself, and already half-writing the notes in my head as I walked up to the building.
When I opened the apartment door, I noticed instantly that something was Not. Right.

The Smell.

I looked in and didn’t see anything straight away, so I ventured in a bit further to see what exactly had gone on in my 8 hour absence. I made it to the kitchen.

Three full quarters of the surface of the 20 square feet of laminate that occupies the centre of the horseshoe that is our kitchen was COVERED in liquids of various colours and consistencies. The orifice they came out of was still up in the air.

Cursing the mess, but secretly smiling about the fact that, hey, at least it’s not on the carpet(!), I glanced over at the sliding door to the patio. Uh oh. Danger Will Robinson… There are some brownish drops and smears by the door. More dog mess? I wandered over to check it out.

Then

Out of the corner of my eye

I saw it.

THE GIGANTIC PILES OF SHIT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE (FULLY CARPETED) OFFICE FLOOR!!!

Ok, in all fairness, there was one gigantic pile of shit, and three lesser piles surrounding it.

And this was no ordinary shit. This dog had clearly gone for the extra grease, extra cheese, extra beans, extra extra hot sauce superdeluxe chalupah, and my carpet paid the price.

I was stunned. Dazed, I turned back to look at the door from whence I’d entered this, the 4th circle of hell that had replaced my home, and saw it. The other puddle of shit on the tile at the front door, that I’d stepped in on my way inside.

And then I lost it.

I picked up my phone and called Neil; as soon as he answered I just yelled “OH MY GOD THE DOG DIAHRREA’D ALL OVER THE APARTMENT!” To which he replied “So I guess I should come home?” To which I replied “OH MY GOD I CAN’T HANDLE THIS!” And promptly hung up.

I grabbed my purse, and the dog, and my keys, and just left.

I managed to make it down to the coffee place at the end of the block, tied the dog to a table outside, ordered a cappucino, and just waited for Neil to make it home (I did think to call at some point and let him know that I was in a place other than the befouled apartment).

To make an already long story a little shorter and spare you the grosest details, it took three hours, three kitchen catchers, one roll of paper towel, two dishclothes, a can of Spot Shot, a Rug Doctor rental, a method air pill and scented candle, Chinese food dinner OUT, three beer and two larger-than-is-decent-in-polite-company glasses of scotch, and we’re finally feeling better (if not ok) about the experience.

And now that I’ve made it to the other side, I can say that maybe, perhaps, there is a tiny inkling of indication that there is hope for me yet to be a parent of small children and actually enjoy it.

Because even with the experience she put me through, I can say with conviction that even if she were to do this again, I would still prefer that the dastardly hound spend her time at the end of my bed, rather than the end of my fork.

Initiative

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Scene: Wiederick/Watkiss household. Wednesday Morning, 7:45am.

Him: You know what I hate? I hate it when someone has the technical knowledge to do a task and just doesn’t do it.

Her: What do you mean?

Him: Well, the task has been discussed, it’s on the board, they know how to do it. They’ve acknoweldged that it needs to be done. Then I walk over and they’re reading Slashdot, and when I ask why it’s not done they said “it never occured to them” to start on it.

Her: Yah. I’ve had staff like that. It sucks.

Him: Ok, I’m gonna take the dog out – back in a few.

15 minutes goes by

Him: Hey! I’m back! You know, you might want to put a dog blanket or something on the couch, the dog’s really muddy!

Her: You know what I hate?

Him: What?

Her: When someone has the technical knowledge to accomplish a task, acknowledges it needs to be done, and then it just never occurs to them to actually do it….

Shave (almost) Everywhere!

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Alternate titles:
“Another post containing more than Neil’s parents ever wanted to know about their child”
“Yes people, Neil’s junk is being talked about again.”

I’m sure you all remember that Waxing post from the not-so-distant past. You may also remember that at the end I mentioned I wouldn’t mind subjecting Neil to the “Full Monty” for comparison.

Well I still haven’t found a place to do the man-wax, but I did receive an email offering an alternative solution, and I was sent the Phillips Bodygroom for Neil to try out.

I really did mean to review it before Christmas, but my subject was… let’s say a tad reluctant.

But I harrassed, and he relented, and I can vouch that it is a pretty keen little gadget!

First off, check out their awesome site: www.shaveeverywhere.com. It’s a fun bit of flash that went around the viral marketing circuit a few months ago – if you’ve seen it, it’s worth a revisit, and if you haven’t, well you really should watch the intro video, which is safe for work (barely). And to keep this site mostly the same (and perhaps keep the kinky googlers’ search results relevant), I’ll refer to the more delicate bits of the man’s anatomy by the pieces of produce referred to in the video.

Philips Bodygroom

So, what’s in the package? (And by package, I mean the box the shaver comes in… we’ll get to the other package in a moment.) The bodygroom of course, an instruction book (boring, as they usually are, but efficient and clear in its directions), a plug-in charging unit, three attachments for different lengths, and a handy rubber wrist cord for use in the shower (on top of everything else, it’s a wet/dry unit), so you don’t drop it on your toes.

Before I really explored the shaver, I honestly thought it would be pretty similar to most other electric razor or beard trimming appliances.

I’m glad to say I was wrong, and it’s really like both devices in one, and definitely designed for body hair, which is much finer (and generally longer) than either scalp or facial hair (which the instructions emphatically note one should NOT use the bodygroom on).

The head of the shaver has a shaving foil in the centre, perfect for taking any unwanted hair right down to the skin. Of course, as with any shave, this will leave stubble and stubborn regrowth, so I wouldn’t actually recommend it for areas with thick and very noticeable hair, like say, on the average caucasian man’s legs. (I say caucasian, because those are the legs I’m most familiar with, and I know both density and coarseness of body hair can be affected by ethnicity.)

What the shaving foil IS good for, is easily and painlessly getting rid of strange, sporadic patches of hair. Neil has about 12-16 hairs on each tricep – about the texture of chest hairs, and with a good two inches of separation from where his noticeable arm hair starts. The foil was awesome for that.

Then on both the top and bottom of the foil, the body groom also has trimmer attachments (much like those you’d find on a beard trimmer). You can use the trimmers with either of the two reversable guards, or with no guard at all, depending on the hair length you’re attempting to achieve.

The key differences here between the Bodygroom and any other trimmer I’ve seen are that a) the gaps between the teeth are a lot narrower, resulting in better precision when trimming finer hairs (like those on the underarms) and b) TWO trimming heads (with reversable guides), so you can still hold the shaver comfortably while shaving up, or down – which is really important when navigating the delicate carrot, kiwis and peach.

So after all that, how’d it actually work?

Turns out, pretty darned well. The body shaving and trimming performance is on par with a facial shaver at the same price point. The handle is comfortable, and the wet/dry capabilities are a big plus. It performed well on all types of body hair – underarm, arm, chest and undercarriage – either trimming or shaving as attempted. The only thing it wasn’t tested on, was the peach (Neil stormed off saying “No f*$king way something sharp and buzzing is getting near my a#$!” – hence the “almost” in the title).

Of course, while it does what it does extremely well, the bodygroom is still ultimately a shaver and trimmer.

Trimmers, unfortunately (with their side-to-side blade), sometimes catch and tug hair instead of slicing it off (Neil says “ouch!”).

Shavers ultimately cut the hair off at the skin level, allowing the roots to grow stronger and produce thicker, coarser hair and leave the issues that come with stubble and regrowth (Neil says “my bits itch”).

Of course, if you’re already a die-hard man-scaper (which Neil is just… not.) and would like to scrap the beard-trimmer and manual razor combination for a product that’s designed especially for your body, you really can’t beat the Bodygroom.

There – the end – you made it! No more talk of Neil’s junk, and the squeamish can now uncover their eyes.

Just be thankful I posted an image of the shaver, instead of a picture of the “Extra Optical Inch.”

I’ve created a monster

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I can’t really call it a “New Year’s Resolution” since it started in late November, but Neil and I are on a bit of a health kick these days.

Summer was great: we had salads nearly daily since fresh, organic produce, meats and cheeses abound in our neighbourhood, and took epic walks with the dog (2-3 hour wanders around town) a few times a week. I rowed, he ran, we rollerbladed and hiked and generally our bodies were tighter than… well… fill in your own simile regarding very tight things.

And then the rains came.

The salads were no more, as all of the fresh things went out of season. Sure, we can still get lettuce, but it’s leathery and flavourless. The tomatoes have lost their tangy zip. Broccoli is wilty and brownish and sad.

The once epic walks have become instead games of “how fast can we run around the block, scoop the poop, and dodge as many raindrops as possible” and “how much stuff can we toss around the apartment for the dog to chase before she breaks something.”

We turned to stews and tubers and TiVo. And lo, our waistlines grew.

So we decided to nip the fat in the proverbial bud.

We’ve embraced frozen vegetables, smaller portions, cut down on “white” food (rice, flour, pasta) and started exercising most mornings.

Frankly, it was all my idea (brought on by some pants that suddenly “shrunk”) and wouldn’t you know it, Neil’s taken to all this like a damn duck to water.

I am not all that impressed.

I am the penultimate procrastinatrix, and instead of getting out of bed at 6:30am to work out, I’d rather make all sorts of excuses about how I can do it later (or tomorrow) and just ONE brownie won’t kill me (ok, maybe two).

But Neil practically springs out of bed in the wee hours to hit the road for a 35 minute jog with the dog. Then he comes home all chipper and and concocts fat-free fruit & yogurt smoothies in our spanky new blender (thanks again Chris & Jill!). He takes an active interest in sticking to a low GI diet and comes home gloating and proud to share his good food choices.

And what do I do? As he leaves for his run, I begrudgingly stumble out of bed and let Carmen Electra and Michael Carson kick my ass. Neil and the dog usually arrive home when I’m somewhere in the middle of a set of excruciating donkey kicks, and more often than not I nail the dog in the head while she’s running around being crazy.

I suck back my tasty smoothie, think about how good for me it is, and dream of the 24g of fat in a Tim Horton’s bacon & egg breakfast sandwich.

I get to work, I plug through, sometimes I have soup and salad for lunch, sometimes I have pie. Neil goes to Salad Loop nearly every damn day (which I don’t have near my work). I fantasize about cheeseburgers.

Neil will even get up and go for his regular run on Wednesdays AND Thursdays, when we ski Wednesday nights. He claims he feels Grrrrreat! I did a light upper-body workout Wednesday morning, snowboarded Wednesday night, and suffered through most of my workout Thursday afternoon. I had to go to work with my hair in a wet ponytail today, because my arms are so sore, I can’t bear enough weight to wield the hairdryer.

But I am noticing that overall I’m feeling better. The pants are mysteriously un-shrinking themselves. I’m standing a little taller now that I’m not feeling bloated and puffy all the time. I’m even sleeping better.

Is that enough to keep me going? Hell no.

I do it because I’m stubborn. I will not be shown-up by my fiancé. Whatever he can do, I can do backwards in High Heels.

I’m just hoping he starts to feel the same way about doing the laundry…

O Tannenbaum

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As November draws to a close, and it’s FINALLY appropriate to start with the decorating of houses and wearing of Santa hats and sending of cards, there is a holiday dilemma that’s cropped up in my house.

When he heck are we supposed to buy our Christmas Tree?

A little background: I have been a fake-tree person for many, many years. I think the last live tree my parents had was when I was about 6. And I’ve always had my modest, wee, artificial trees in the various apartments I’ve lived in.

But lo, the man of the house has decreed that no plastic coniferous-tree-like abomination shall ever sully his holiday abode. And I’m up for some actual pine smell (epsecially now that I have a vacuum that sucks), so I figured, what the heck – real tree it is!

Thing is, this man of the house, he’s not so good with that whole “memory” thing – specifically in regard to the passing of time – and says things like “oh I totally did that just recently” when this thing he’s referring to actually occurred 7 or 8 years ago. Then when he realizes he’s conjuring up ancient memories he sits, mouth agape, at this betrayal by father time. How could memories that feel so fresh be so far past?

Or he says “Oh this other thing is still so far away, we have AGES of time to plan” – far away being about 3 days. Then when he realizes this other thing is only 3 days away (instead of the weeks he swore he had), he freaks out and pulls some sort of all-nighter to make up for the days that cruel father time sneaked right out from under him with nary a how d’you do.

So you can understand that when he says “Oh, we can totally get a tree this weekend, I always get mine right around now – it totally won’t die by Christmas” I’m a bit skeptical.

So now I turn to you, gentle reader, to clue me in: Can I buy a live Christmas Tree this weekend and still have it glorious and green, and not a brown and droopy shell of its former self by the 25th? If not, when?

And if I can, where the heck in the Vancouver city limits do I find such a thing? Because the man, all he remembers is going out into the woods at the back of a farm and cutting one down “like it was yesterday.”