Just a few short months away.

I love this time of year.
Not for the presents or the holiday 'cheer', but because I know that from now on, each day will stretch out just a little bit further and the light will last a little bit longer.

Soon spring will arrive and the flowers will come out of the dark, cold earth.

Hurry, Spring, I miss you!

(Oh, and while I'm here, I do hope everyone had a delightful holiday, no matter what the occasion!)

On storms and small rocks.

I went for a drive around the extreme southern coast of Vancouver Island yesterday...it was such a bright and sunny Sunday that I couldn't resist going through a tank of gas.

I stopped at a number of places along the way.
One of the first places I stopped was at Whiffen Spit near the very famous Sooke Harbour House (which I'm to lazy to link to). It's considered a prime international destination (EnRoute voted it the best 'country inn' in the world this year) due in large part to both it's specatular views, as well as it's food offerings.

I continued further along the tip of the Island and went into a lovely meadery along the way. Called the "Tugwell Creek Meadery", it's a lovely 'vinyard' specializing in honey and fruit based wines. They are very good and rather unusual.



I found this gargoyle nestled in the garden at the front gate.





And they had a Medieval declaration on how to care for bees posted by the wine cellar:



"Thou must not be given to surfeiting and drunkenesse."

I think I've got the surfeiting under control, anyway!





But as lovely as this adventure was, it was amazing and scary to see the evidence of the beating the south coast and Vancouver Island took in the aftermath of the recent storms that crashed through here.
It was a mess all along the road; huge trees the size of vehicles smashed down, homes crushed and telephones lines down everywhere.

I saw at least 7 crews working (on a Sunday!) to try to restore power and clear lines. I think it's lucky no one was killed by this storm, by the looks of it.

Comments anyone?

I suspect I'm not alone in this, but I'd like to add my complaint.

There are so many blogs I can't leave comments on! I've tried several times a day over several days with no luck.

Believe me...I've got things to say; I just don't seem to be able to!

Anyone else have this problem? Is there anything I can do or is it simply a 'blogger issue' that has yet to be resolved?

----------------

In other news, I have a new job!
Since moving to Victoria, I've been looking and looking and wasn't having much luck until now.
My new job is a block from my home and pays more for less work hours than my last job. Not to bad!
What will I be doing?
Well. Uh. I'll be...and then, um.

Yeah.

Not sure.

Executive assistant for a bunch of managers for the Ministry of Health by the sounds of it. Possibly making travel arrangements?
It's all a little vague.
BUT it's only for two months.
And that it's with the government means I'll have my foot in the door for other (hopefully!) cushy government jobs in the future.
As long as, you know, I don't burn the place down trying to make coffee or something.

I start Monday. And I'm rather nervous. But I'm sure I'll be fine. After all, I don't have a clue what I'm doing!

What's WRONG with me?!?

Weird things. A list of them.
But...what?

If I suffered from OCD, I could put something interesting down like, "count how many starlings (and only starlings) on my way home from the corner store" or "twist my left pinky 11 times when starting the laundry".
But I don't have even the slightest trace of OCD.

I don't care which way the toilet paper faces, and I'm not particular about how many wipes it takes to dry a bowl as opposed to a plate.

I don't NEED my clothes to be hung in a certain way, or my shoes to be pointing out.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm normal. I mean, everyone else has endearing little quirks that they need to see them through the day.

What do I do that could be contrived of as 'weird'.

The only thing that may qualify (and it's not something that I 'do' exactly), are my dreams.

Sounds pretty normal, yes? Everyone dreams.
But I defy anyone to hear any one of my dreams and find any kind of normalcy amongst them.

Full-blown, techni-colour 'lights-sounds-smells' dramas of epic proportions.

I've woken myself up during a particularly loud AC/DC contest.
I believe the contender playing 'Hells Bells' won, but as I said it woke me up.

I have dreams in which I die, only to be propped up in front of a mirror to watch myself decay; flying dreams and lucid dreams.
Dreams that spread themselves out over several days in the telling. Did I mention I can smell in my dreams, too?

I realize that everyone dreams, but I seriously think that my dreams can be easily defined as 'weird', even by weird dream standards.

What else?

I don't like cold leftovers but I hardly think that counts.

I always condition my hair after I shampoo. Definitely not weird.

Even when I smoked, I didn't have any habits like turning the first cigarette upside down and smoking it last for luck or tapping my cigarette a required number of times before lighting it.

Perhaps being an RPG'er might be constituted as strange in some circles, but the crowd I run with are all gamers, so it's normal/expected. It's nothing I can include in a list of "6 weird things about me".

Maybe I could include that I don't love shopping. That might just be a weird thing.

I was SURE I would have lots of things to make up a list with. With bowed head I must admit defeat.
Guess I'm not as weird as I once prided myself.
What a shame!
All these years I thought I was strange and it turns out that I'm really very normal.
How strange!

How December 6th looks in Victoria, BC

I walked all over Victoria today, enjoying the sunshine and balmy weather.


It's such a beautiful city, and Victoria loves to play up it's British heritage by keeping a close eye on how buildings downtown are renovated and maintained.
I read in a travel book once that Victoria is more English than England...and even if that isn't true, there is certainly effort made towards that claim!

Victoria's a really visually interesting city; it's range of architecture and style is wide and colourful.
I love these buildings...such bright colours are a boon to downtown design. Quite a lot of the buildings that comprise the core of Victoria are painted cheerfully. (But with complimentary colours of course. Needn't have anything clashing!)




















Of course, here's a Public House, "The Penny Farthing". Doesn't get more English than that, I suspect!

















I put this tree picture in just because the seed pods looked so soft and furry. I don't know what kind of tree it is, but the white fluff stood out so clearly against the black of the branch and the blue of the sky it simply had to be photographed.







Victoria was also a very important Chinese immigration point at the turn of the century and even further back.

It's now a large and vibrant Asian community that remains a valuable part of this city.

The 'Chinatown' stands side by side the beautiful old cathedrals and nestles comfortably amongst the the tartan shops and Irish pubs.

For a small city, Victoria certainly has a variety of cultural influence.

I'm ALIVE!

Hi all...sorry 'bout the blogfree week I've had.
I blame the 'flu entirely.

I'm just about fully recovered, and with a little bit of luck, will have an interesting and informative post for you kind readers in the next day or two.

And if I don't, I feel confident that someone else will!

The sniggering is NOT becoming.

Over here in Victoria, we pride ourselves on the fact that we have the mildest climate and recieve the most sunshine in Canada.

Sometimes (and I'll grant this is rather mean), we like to call people who live in other, colder parts of Canada and casually mention that our daffodils have been out for about a week already.
In February.

We're a cruel bunch.

However, we too suffer at the hand of fate; 'lo...we received our first snowfall of the year.

Under the storm.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon driving around the seaside outskirts of Victoria. I wasn't sure where I was or where I was going exactly; my trusty map didn't show the borders of this city, only the heart.

It wasn't raining here yesterday, though the clouds looked imposing and dark. The wind had picked up as the day wore on and I could feel it pushing my little car about as I drove.

I picked an old boat ramp to park and look out from.

The hurling wind pushed and pulled, the waves furled and crashed. Seagulls seemed to think this was a fine time to be out and let themselves ride the gusts over the turbulent water.
As gray and foreboding as the storm seemed, across the strait glowed the coastal mountains.
The sun had still found a way to light them up.

I sat for a long time, watching the sea crest and drive towards the rock. One of the things that kept coming to mind was how glad I was to be back on 'my' Island.

My time in Vancouver seems almost a dream. I forget that it was 11 years of my life that I spent there, growing up and learning.

Oh, I'm so glad to be here again.

It's been said 'you can't go home again'; I suppose it's true.
You can't retreat back to your life of innocence and inexperience...but you know, you really CAN go home again.

If you're lucky, it's just as good as you remember it.

And if you're really lucky, it's even better.

I just can't believe how lucky I am.

Why are there no job descriptions under "Lara Croft"?

Funny thing this, looking for a new job.

What is particularly odd is being someone who has job skills that none of your friends can imagine you doing.

Yeah.
I push paper.

I'm damn good at it, too.
To the left and to the right, I make paper do my bidding.

Frankly, I never thought I'd be a paper pusher.
It has always seemed the least likely thing in my life I would ever do.
"Administration".

I had my dear friend 'Pol have a look over my resume a while ago, and she exclaimed that it was very strange to see an old friend of hers have a very different type of working life outside of our relationship.
A kind of working life she never really expected to see, there in black and white in front of her.

Let it be said that my working life does not truly reflect ME.

So what did I want to do with my life, exactly? I mean, before this 'other' office-type persona took over.

Well, it involved things like swashbuckling and swinging from vines; race car driving and flying helicopters.
I'm really very good at walking across fallen logs that span rocky chasms, and I can scramble along damp, mossy cliffs that fall straight down to shallow river beds without a second thought.
To mention nothing of the sword-balancing!
There's got to be a job with that kind of description somewhere, hasn't there?

Surely Angelina Jolie needs a stunt double now that she has a multitude of children to care for.
I'm more than willing!

Hollywood stunt person.
I think I missed my calling.

Oh, and the other thing I'm really good at?
Reading.
Give me a comfy chair (minus the Spanish inquisition) and a hot cup of tea or a good glass of red wine and I can read just about anyone under the table (on so many levels).

Aren't there jobs out there that simply require someone to read a book and say, "This was great" or "This totally sucked"?
If so, I'm the hot ticket.
I can't spell and my grammar is atrocious but, "Hire me!"

So, anyway.
Back to my original thought.

Finding one's place in the world.

How is it done?

Some people seem born to be able to do what they love best.
In grade five, I knew a girl that everyone just knew would be a rocket scientist. (As an adult she's a microbiologist. Kind of the reverse of outerspace, she studies innerspace, but my point is not lost.)
And then there was that nine year old I went to school with. Everyone, teachers included, knew he was going to be a criminal.
Sure enough, he and his little brother are often featured in the 'most wanted' portions of the local papers.

And so I keep returning to my initial query.

How do you know what you're called to?

AND, if you're called to something that there's no 'calling' for, how is that translated into a viable, life sustaining 'career'?

So...if anyone has any logs that need walking over, or a filing system that needs overhauled, I'm your girl!

Oh, and I just found out today that I can type 69 words a minute. Wonder if I'd be able to do that with a sword on my head. Gotta be a market for that...right?

Welcome to the world, little Snarl!

Since I was 12 years old, I have been a "Transformers" fan.
I am sure this is Kimbers fault, but nonetheless.

I bought one the other day.
His name is "Snarl".

"What's to stop a 34 year old, intelligent woman from figuring out how these wee toys work anyway!" I thought this in a fit of self-confidence.

But there's so much plastic and binding and twirly things holding it in...I can barely get past these impediments!!
"Come to me, my little toy! I release you from your twirly-binding plastic things!" (Hey, I might be able to use those for later!)

When I finally freed him from his plastic torture, I was too afraid of doing anything with him for fear of breaking him!

I can't quite figure out how to transform him; I know, I'll pretend to follow the step-by-step instructions.

Hmmm....seems to me it's indicating that I need to stick some kind of photon gun up his (ahem).
OH! It's his TAIL! His tail is actually a projectile launching "magnetic induction cannon or sword"!

This is so exciting!

Okay. One 'projectile magnetic butt thingy" and What?? Now I have to remove the butt projectile thingy to proceed?
Okay.
Alright. And now...rotate his hind legs so some guys head appears.

It was getting very strange.

Where's an eight year old when you need one!?!

Oh my.

My Snarl appears to have several wavering heads and a few limbs that are as of yet undetermined on this planet.

Egads!!

I've created a monster!
But c'mon.
I mean, he's a bit pigeon-toed and has several odd malformed heads shooting off in all directions, but he sort of inspires fear. And dread.
Dontcha think?

I know I'll be having nightmares.

Bowels of Hell.

Last week while I was in Cumberland I decided to have my hair done.

It's far less expensive to have it done at the particular salon I go too then anywhere else I've found.
BUT.
I may have to request that the dog who appears to be the shop mascot not be there next time I go.

You see, the dog farted the entire time I was there.

Loudly.

Repeatedly.

And what a tear-inducing stench it produced.

The owner didn't appear to be very chagrined about her dog's overwhelmingly bad odor.
She merely explained it away by saying, "It's because he hasn't poo'd in two days. That's why he's farting so much."

Seriously.
That was all she had to say.
I was expecting a horrified apology and a rush to put the dog outside or something.

I don't think I'll go back.

That smell was bad enough, but I really didn't need to be made aware of the state of the dogs (desperately foul) bowels as well.

It's a shame, really.
There were VERY cheap.

(And I suspect that she might want to take her pooch to the vet. Anything that smells that bad HAS to be rotting from the inside out. It's gotta be a sign of imminent death or something.)

Lest we forget.

"God help our first contingent if this continues." - Gunner, Frederick Rawson, from postcard home, days before he was gassed at Ypress, 1915

Less 'ouching' more sweating.

Since spending time with Spider Girl at the gym whilst in the valley, I've found that healthy living is sort of catching.
It's so catching, in fact, that I sussed out the Oak Bay Community Centre here in Victoria and bought myself some passes.
And not only that, I actually used one yesterday!
It's not the same without a friend to go with, but there's still value in it.

I go so that I develop a habit of being healthy for the rest of my life...something my teenaged self (who despised 'gym' class) would have cringed over if she knew I would one day actually enjoy treadmills and lifting weights.

What I hope to never emulate is the female weightlifters who get all ripped and oiled and look...well...kinda scary.
(Truth be told, I'm not fond of the appearance of any hardcore weightlifter. Popping veins rather alarms me.)

So that, in a nutshell, is my time in Victoria to date.

Oh. And looking for a job of course!

There goes the neighbourhood.

Here we all are!
Pol, Kimber, and Spider Girl and me, all congregated in Cumberland.
We've gathered to celebrate our collective 'Un-Birthday'.
It's a bit late this year.
Normally we hold it in the summer, but due to life-stuff like moving and babies, things got put on hold a bit.
Which is entirely acceptable of course.
That's what the 'Un-Birthday' is all about!
It's simply a time for all of us to make time for each other whenever that may be.
In lieu of presents and angst, we decided a few years ago to stop stressing out over birthday's and Christmas.
Instead, we gather together for dinner, drinks and a terribly fun sleepover at the hosts house.


Nothing outrageous going on here, just a nice dinner out with friends. Really, twenty years of friendship is certainly something to celebrate!Here's me and Spider. Fairly normal, non?

But add a wee bit of wine, a bright moon shining through the clouds, eyeliner and red lipstick and suddenly, nothing is as it seems.

Between the bears using the backyards of Cumberland as their own personal toilets, and us hiding in the trees, Kimber's neighbours must be ready to cut and run!


(I think I'll write more later...we were up till 3:00am this morning and I'm exhausted! But I wouldn't change a thing.)

Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

I'm still here...really!

This changing of ones life is more time consuming than I thought.
That, and all this time off is certainly putting a blogging damper on things.
(Not to mention the flat tire.)

Oh, and SpiderGirl has been cracking the whip and making me go to the gym on visiting time.

"It's good for your health." She says.
"I want you to live for a long long time." She says.

Some friend.
"Here, bike for 7.5 kilometers and then run another 3. It's good for you."

The sting of her whip burns still.

I think I've foiled her attempts to improve my health though.

Beer and pasta!!

The 'Scottish' Play

I'm sorry to admit it, but I had never seen "Macbeth" performed.

When Chris said let's go see Macbeth last Thursday I jumped at the chance.

As we drove out a long,dark and winding road, I asked about the production company putting it on.

"'William Head on Stage' is putting it on. It's a bunch of convicts at a Federal Penitentiary."

"We're on our way to a prison!?"

"Yup."

This was...something I had never done before!

When we arrived we were informed that we were to have nothing on our person at entry. No money or personal effects; nothing but the tickets to get in with.

Rather unnerving.

Once we made it through the security measures, a small group of us were lead outside to a waiting van.
Piling in, we were driven about the grounds to where the play was being presented. Past the beach, past the individual cottages and the rolling green hills, we stopped at last across from the craft building and went into the gym.

The inmates had been busy!

Upon entering the large room you could see it had been separated into two distinct rooms, one room was made up of a bleak gray looking stage and the remainder of the space being turned into a bazaar of sorts.

Many woodcrafts and other bits of art were displayed for viewing and purchasing (though there was some puzzled looks by the patrons...none of us had any money with which to purchase), it was quickly explained that if you saw a piece that appealed to you, it would be set aside and one of the guards would see to the collecting of monies.
As one of the inmates explained with a laugh, "They don't like us to have the credit cards."

The lights flickered. Time for the first act to unfold.

Dressed in an interesting combination of kilts and army fatigues, the men put on a driven performance.
The four women who were brought in from outside (all of whom are professional actors themselves) to perform as the witches and Lady Macbeth held their own.

Macbeth himself you could easily imagine dressed in leathers astride a large motorcycle and looking menacing.
His performance, while a little on the rushed side, portrayed an angry and confused Macbeth instead of a pushed and prodded one.
Lady Macbeth was fabulous, but then, she was a trained actor. The vicious and gleeful delivery of her lines plotting Duncan's death by her husbands hand was wonderful and alarming to watch.

I could go on and on about it. It was that good.
It was a surprise, too.

One doesn't imagine a group of convicts even wanting to take part in a play, let alone a play so challenging.
In fact, the director Ian Case (himself a convict) noted, "We would be dealing with difficult language, complex emotions and difficult situations-all with a cast who for the most part had never read Shakespeare and never acted before."
He added, "It is a serious look at the consequences of our decisions, both bad and good. That, for me, is what makes this play especially poignant and important to do in this environment."

And it wasn't just that the play was good, there was an unusual element behind it.
I think it was the feeling that perhaps giving people something good and productive to do with a positive result might mean something in the long run.

It would be naive to suggest that doing a few plays in prison can turn someones life around, but you just never know.

Oh, and the broadswords they were swinging around were pretty impressive, too.

In the news today.

First of all: THANK YOU ALL so very much for all your e-mails and concerns regarding the MIA status of my blog.
It just flabbergasts me that so many fine and funny and far more articulate writers are so interested in my relatively pedestrian life.
Really.
Thank you.

(oh, and Mom says 'Hi!')

Next of all: My move went splendidly well.
The movers I hired were courteous and efficient.
My dear friends Spider Girl and Jeff and Danny helped immensely with packing and encouragement.
Saturday after the move was one of the best Saturdays a girl could ask for.
A spa treatment and dinner and the Opera...a divine day after a very loooong one.

Third in the list and completely unrelated: a query.
It's come to my attention that a teacher recently convicted of sexual assault has been sent to exile in Canada.

Pardon me, what?

Exile?

"You are going to Canada in exile for your crimes." Says the Judge.

You must be joking.

Right??

Are we America's own Australia suddenly!?

(No offense to Australia of course.
I merely refer to the transportation of criminals from English shores to Botany Bay in an historical sort of fashion.
This is only to compare with the sudden American shipping of their criminals over the border to Canada in an ironic sense.

I'm sure all modern Australians are fine and upstanding individuals!

Not at all related in any tangible way to England's dark and criminal past.

I've never been to Australia of course.

But I'm pretty sure I'll meet some lovely good people there.

If I go.

Ahem.)

Anyway.

My point.

I LIKE living in Canada.

Bloody Hell!!
Don't send your convicted anything up here, thanks very much!

Fourth and very important:
Blackcrag?

You are right, of course.

Moving doesn't get you anywhere.

It is what's inside that moves you.

SO!

That's all the news that's fit to print.
From Victoria, British Columbia,
Signing Out,

~TAI~

8 long and seriously disturbing days.

At last AT LAST!!

My blog has made a miraculous reappearance!
After over a week of waiting and wondering, it has returned!

I thought for sure it was lost and gone forever, but no, it seems it merely went on a temporary hiatus unbeknownst to me.

So we're back baby, and just in time for my 2 year blogiversary which is coming up on the 27th of this month.

Two whole years I've been at this!

Thanks to everyone who has sidled up 'longside and taken a look into my world (and said 'hi' to my mom...she loves that!)

It still amazes me that kind people all over the world have stopped by and wondered what I was up too.
People have taken my book recommendations to heart (G'Night Girl!) and seemed to have found my posts interesting and funny (I presume it was more than just my spelling that amused you!).

So just know that even when it appears that I've abandoned 'post' I haven't...I'm still here, blogging away in my head.

And I'm still visting all of you enchanting bloggers.

Cheers and thanks...all of you make it a great place to be.

Book recommendation comin' right up.

Oh, those poor orphans!

What a great series; Lemony Snicket's tales of the Baudelaire children is wonderfully dark and dangerous.

Quick, run out and buy "Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events: The Bad Beginning", the first in the series.

Sit alone in a dark house and read it all the way through.
Cuddle up on a couch with a small candle burning in the background for effect and dive in.

It'll only take an hour and a half (or less) and two cups of tea and you'll be a fan, too!

The writing style and pictures put in my mind of Edward Gorey.
Now there's another author who you should acquaint yourself with if creepy crawly tales about tots amuses you.

It's not THAT ugly!

It's funny.

I'm moving and I have furniture that I don't want any longer.
Quite a bit of furniture, in fact.
There's a couch and a love seat, a big comfy chair, a coffee table and an end table.

I won't say that it's beautiful furniture.
Actually, it's old and drab and really rather plain.
But it IS comfortable and serviceable, of that there is no doubt.

Anyway.
I wanted to give this dull but serviceable furniture away to a charity.

My first thought was to donate it to a women's shelter.

Women's shelters sometimes try to set women up in their own places to establish a safe residence away from the abusive partner.
I thought furniture (despite being unattractive) would be very helpful.
Well received, even.

"Hi. I have some furniture I'd like to donate."
"How much do you have?"
"A complete living room set and a dining table if required."
"No. Thanks."
"NO?"
"Yeah. We don't have room for it."

Hmmm. All right.
Next stop; "The Covenant House" for troubled/runaway youth here in Vancouver.

"Want some furniture?"
"No."
"Oh. I see."

Big Brothers might want it I speculated to myself, doubtfully.

"Furniture donation?"
"Is it re-saleable?"
"Probably."
"Nah."

Salvation Army will DEFINATELY take it, I thought.

"Couch?"
"Can you sit in your apartment for 9 hours on a Tuesday waiting for us to MAYBE take it depending on if we decide it would be worth it or not?"
"Umm...no."
"Then forget it."

So. At last.

""Trash to The Curb". We haul everything except dead bodies." *
"Will $70 dollars rid me of this blight I used to call my living room furniture?"
"Sure. We'll be there whenever you want us."
"Oh THANK YOU!"

Moral of the story?

Money talks and charitable inclinations are sadly laughable.
And that really bothers me.




*I changed the name of the company, but that really is their motto! I'll be hiring THEM again!
But what to do with the bodies remains (teehee!) a problem.

To say nothing of the robot and Ninjas!

I just had had HAD! to post this for everyone's viewing enjoyment.

If you were required to read "To Kill a Mockingbird" in school I believe you'll REALLY enjoy this new and improved version.
You need lots of pirates and they need flaming sharks and dinosaurs; yes, it's HOW to Kill a Mockingbird.

You're right Kimber it's HARD CORE, YAAAH!!!

Hey, Zombies! Keep it down, I'm trying to sleep here!

1. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? Hmm, seems rather harsh. But there's a certain president of a certain country with a shrub-like I.Q. that could stand some blowing up I think.

2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be? Wow, these questions are really aggressive! Ummm...I don't know. I mean, all they are doing is singing; it's pretty innocuous.

3. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? uh. See question 1. I mean, if I'm going to blow him up, what's a little punch in the face?

4. What is your favorite cheese? St. Agur. Yum, smelly blue cheese.

5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal. What kind will you make? Mmmmm, butter, cream cheese, red onion sliced very thinly and avocado sprinkled with hand harvested French sea salt (of course!), and fresh cracked black pepper on toasted multi-grain bread.

6. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once. Who is the lucky celebrity of your choice? Well finally, someone I don't have to blow up or punch! How 'bout John Malkovich? Joaquin Phoenix also springs to mind. Angelina!?! So many to choose from!

7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who do you pick? I have slept with a music-celebrity of my choice, so my quota is filled. (No, I won't kiss and tell!)

8. Now that you've slept with two different people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy shit, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it? Silly question...on books of course!

9. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Southern France, mais oui!

10. Upon arrival to the aforementioned location, you get off the plane and discover another hundred-dollar bill. Shit! Now that you are in the new location, what are you gonna do? Good wine and delicious food. Bring on the buttery garlic snails and a fresh baguette; all that sleeping around and traveling has made me hungry!

11. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. It is...? Seems a little excessive, non? Well, if I MUST choose. The finest red wines will have to do.

12. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there? Who the hell is Rufus and why does he have a time-traveling phone booth!?! Why does he want ME to go time-traveling in his stupid phone-booth?? Well, I suppose if I must answer the question I'll say the Italian Renaissance...15th century. As long as I'm a Medici. What will I do? Eat of course. Have my portrait done. Try to figure out who the hell Rufus is.

13. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? First rule: No one named Ralph, Jack or Piggy will be allowed on the island.

14. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and what's the premise? It'll be called "Feminine Protection" and be a true to life story of 4 young women in charge of the safety of a castle. Complete with magic and swords of course.

15. What is your favorite curse word? H-E-double-HOCKEY-STICKS!!

16. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren't really doing anything, they're just standing around your bed. What do you do? Shoo them away in an irritated fashion and go back to sleep. I hate being woken up for nothing.

17. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don't worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely.So what's the item? My Brian Scott painting. Oh. Wait! My vacation pictures...NO! My St. Agur cheese!! That's a tough question. It certainly won't be my couch. It can BURN!!

18. The Angel of Death has descended upon you. Fortunately, the Angel of Death is pretty cool and in a good mood, and it offers you a half-hour to do whatever you want before you bite it. Whatcha gonna do in that half-hour? Go to my office and tidy my desk of course.
Gee, what a silly question! I'd spend my half-hour tell my family and friends how much I love them.

19. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be? Invisibility. What sneaky fun!

20. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? I think I'd like to spend another half-hour lounging in bed with my cat Bentley. I miss him.

21. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? (the answer "nothing" doesn't count) School time from about grade 4 to grade 12 seems like a pretty good idea!

22. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit... you can move to anywhere else in the world! Bitchin'! What country are you going to live in now? Italy, they have the BEST coffee.

23. This question still counts, even for those of you who are under age. Check it out. You have been eternally banned from every single bar in the world except for ONE. Which one is it gonna be? One in Ireland, I think. They have so much fun!

24. Hopefully you didn't mention this in the super-powers question.... If you did, then we'll just expand on that. Check it out... Suddenly, you have gained the ability to FLOAT!!! Whose house are you going to float to first, and be like "Dude, check it out... I can FLOAT!"? Well, I'd just 'float' my special-powered self directly over to Spider Girls. She'd really appreciate seeing me levitate I think. Only I wouldn't call her dude. And I would say levitate.

25. The constant absorption of magical moonbeams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier has given you the ability to resurrect the dead famous-person of your choice. So which celebrity will you bring back to life? I'd like to have a chit chat with Richard Feynman I think. But I bet Mozart would be pretty interesting, too.

26. The Celestial Gates of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn't think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person, etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? Death AGAIN?! What's with death and that other "death-angel" thing hanging around me for, anyway? Well, I guess I'd bring back my cat. I know I know, the question says person, but damn it, that cat THOUGHT he was a person!

27. What's your theme song? "Highway to Hell"...or maybe "Bad to the Bone"? I'm rather partial to Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" as well, but that's just me.

Mooooving.

I have a HELL of a lot of books to move.

~Sigh~

Back to work.

You want to see my WHAT?!?

Saturday saw my friend and I take the 'two and a bit' hour drive down to Seattle.
(Not to mention the hour-long wait at the border!)

I'm always happy to go to Seattle, and perhaps it's because it always feels a bit more seasoned than Vancouver to me.
Despite the fact that both are similar in size and age, it's rather like having a slightly older cousin who knows "what's what" and won't let the younger one in on the secret.
You know they know 'SOMETHING' but it's not anything that can be described; it's a kind of knowledge that's as elusive as a shrug and as tantalizing as a drag on a forbidden cigarette.

As far as beauty, I believe that Seattle really rivals Vancouver in the realm of natural wonder.
It is a city that is comfortable within the boundaries of water, forest and mountain.
Seattle (much like Vancouver) features a backdrop of glorious green forest and stretches of blue water and still manages to have a coffee shop on every corner.

As far as the few American cities that I've visited it remains one of my favorite.
When I was young, I used to think that Seattle WAS Canadian.
(Needless to say, geography eluded me when I was 8.)

So, to Seattle we went.

We ate at a great Italian restaurant on the edge of Pioneer Square ("Cafe Bengodi"), and investigated a few bookstores.
And of course, we walked through the multi-scented gauntlet of Pike Street Market.

Then we made a stop at an Irish pub ("Fado") for a pint of resuscitating ale, and that's when it happened.

"I need to see your I.D. please." He looked sternly at me.

"Uh..." I dug through my purse.

"Gosh, this is going to sound lame but...I left it in the car." I hurried to explain, "I had to have it out for the border crossing, I must have left in the car by accident!"

"You're going to have to leave then. Sorry."

"But I'm 34!"

"No I.D., no service."

"Oh THANK YOU!" I exclaimed happily and hurried out the door with the biggest grin.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?" My friend Danny said dourly.

"Yup. Chances are the novelty will never wear off!" I beamed.

I love Seattle.

Who says you can't go home again?

Almost 11 years ago to the day, I packed my bags and left my tiny town of 5,000 people to move to the city of Vancouver.

4 years after that move my boyfriend and I broke up.

"Do you want help moving back to the Island?" He said.

"I'm not going back. I'll make my own way, thank you very much." I stuck out my chin, found myself an apartment and a job and dug my trench.

There was no way I was going back.

Nope.
I was staying.

I wouldn't budge despite the fact that my family and dearest friends all resided on Vancouver Island, and despite the fact that I sometimes struggled to pay my rent AND buy food.

At one point I actually considered a second job...to pay for my cigarettes.
But if I got a second job, when would I have time to read?

I quit smoking.

I would NOT go crawling back defeated.

So I stayed and had a good time.
I explored Vancouver within an inch of it's life.

If there's a particular kind of food you seek, in a particular kind of restaurant I can tell you it's exact address.

Want a sublime walking experience around Vancouver? I can point you in the right direction.

The view of the mountains with or without snow? Dawn, dusk or mid-afternoon I can take you to the best view.

Best nightclubs? I used to know them.
I don't do that scene so much any more...it really does look all the same given enough time.

So I must confess.
For the last year, I found myself wanting more and more to go back to 'my Island'.

I think I've conquered whatever it was that I was fighting.
Whomever I was trying to prove something too...I'm pretty sure I've proved it.

So now?

So now it's time to put aside the 'quest' and cool down the swagger, I don't need to fight anymore.
Whatever it was that I was waiting for? I'm not waiting any longer.

I've quit my job and put in my notice for my apartment.

I'm going 'home'. *

And not a moment to soon.







*Well, actually I'm going to Victoria.
I've never lived in Victoria before but it's a city I've always wanted to live in.
Don't worry Mom, I'm only two and a half hour drive away. No more ferries to contend with!
And there's always the train!

I'll be back on my island, and I'm so excited!

Can you just NOT touch that?

I've never been a fussy 'OCD' type person.
I know things in the world are germ laden...I realize that people have probably had their grimy hands all over the produce I may just buy.

Generally I can ignore that fact. I make my selection and then go home where the fruit and vegetables receive a thorough cleaning and I continue on my merry way.

Yesterday may have changed all that for me.

You see, I was standing before a large and succulent selection of nectarines at the Granville Island Market, imagining my breakfast the next day.

The two I picked out were given to the clerk to weigh.

"$2.23." She said, the nectarines shining at me from the scale.
Handing over a five I waited a moment for the change.

Then it happened.

She backed slowly away from the counter and sneezed a big wet sneeze into her cupped hands.
Then, hands still glistening damply with-what-lord-I-don't-want-to-know, SHE PROCEEDED TO PICK UP MY LOVELY INNOCENT NECTARINES to give to me!!

I recoiled. I must have grimaced.
"I don't want those, you just sneezed all OVER your hands and then picked them up!"

Visibly annoyed she dropped them right.back.into.the.bin.

"Nevermind. Can you give me my money back? Nevermind! Just don't touch it!"

I reached over and grabbed my money before she could get her mucky paws on it and made my escape.

Made me stomach turn, it did.

How am I EVER going to eat produce again?

To dream, perchance to sleep. *

What fascinating things dreams are.
In this amazing time of space exploration and genome mapping, we are still held completely captive and deeply puzzled by dreams.

What are they? What purpose do they serve?

No science has ever fully determined what a dream is, or why they occur.
Yet despite our ignorance, they continue to happen to each and every one of us every single night of our lives.
And we all dream; we may not remember our dreams in all their misty details, but we do dream.

How can it be that these multi-layered shows of light, sound and gripping emotion mean nothing?
How can it be that despite some of our most illustrious minds taking a stab at dream 'interpretation', we can't even know if they really DO have meaning beyond random brain spasms.

And how is it that not everyone dreams in the same manner?

I often wake with dazzling images of dreams still flashing full color in front of my alarm opened eyes, and blaring music (even AC/DC's "Highway to Hell"), echoing at full volume in my ears, while others claim to dream in only black and white and silence.

What about the raw, left over emotions that can grip one long into days afterward?
Who hasn't awoken, tears streaming down their face from grief?
Or smiled joyous throughout the day in remembrance of a particularly wonderful dream?
Turning bright red at the sight of a co-worker that one was involved with in a torrid affair not a few hours earlier isn't unheard of either.

Dreams contain everything we could hope for and all that we fear.
We understand so little about them that their shadowed secrets are safe for a long time, I think.
We can only lie back, settle into sleep and hope that we have 'sweet' dreams instead of the biting, chasing dreams we dread at 2:34am.

Of what do YOU dream?




*Apologies to W. Shakespeare of course!

Blog blog blog!

1) Are you happy/satisfied with your blog’s content and look?
I don't mind the look at all; simple and unadorned. As for the blog content? Well, sure! I write as I feel, and sometimes I don't and I don't have a single 'topic' I feel obligated to continue to revisit so I have a lot of freedom.

2) Does your family know about your blog?
Yup, but neither of my parents have a computer. Once in a while I'll show my mom. I think it amazes her that all you wonderful people from all over the world stop by.
She's particularly fascinated by the fact that everyone seems to like to say 'hi' to her via the blog.

3) Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog? Do you consider it a private thing?
No way! I love that I can share all of this with my friends. On the other hand, I don't share it with my co-workers. (They all think I'm right looney as it is!)

4) Did blogging cause positive changes in your thoughts? This is a rather oddly phrased question. Maybe it did. I prefer funny, warm blogs rather then negative angry ones (though those can be a laugh riot!) so MAYBE it's directed my thoughts more towards the positive?


5) Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or do you love to go and discover more by yourself? I LOVE comments (who doesn't!) and often bookmark my new 'friends' pages after exploring their blogs from their comments. Also, I like doing random jumping about...I've found some great blogs by doing that.


6) What does a visitor counter mean to you? Do you like having one on your blog? I like having a counter, but I'm not a slave to it. What I REALLY like is just seeing all the different parts of the world show up. That really entertains me.


7) Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures? Sometimes but not generally. It's always nice to have a face to go with the blog, but it's entirely understandable that someone would be reluctant to post it.


8) Admit it. Do you think there is any real benefit in blogging? Sure there are benefits. My writing (I think!) has improved dramatically since I started blogging (it's been what...almost 2 years?) and the connection with other like mind people is a definite gain.


9) Do you think that blogger’s society is isolated from the real world or interaction with events? I sometimes purposefully seek out external activity so that I can blog about it (is that counter-productive?) so I'd have to say that the fact so many people are blogging and 'reaching' out to others is not isolated at all.


10) Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it’s a normal thing? I don't know...I haven't been criticized about anything...that or I just didn't notice it.


11) Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them? Fear them? Um..no.


12) Were you shocked by the arrest of some bloggers? I didn't even know it happened.


13) What do you think will happen to your blog after you die?

This, too, is an odd question.

14) What song do you like to hear? What song would you like to link to on your blog? I like to hear many songs...I don't want any songs linked to my blog, thank you very much.

So. There you have it.
Blogging as seen by me.

If you want to run off with these, feel free.
I took it from Ian who got it from Moof.

Have fun!

Riposte...no that's not right. REpost! **

Mos*qui*to = A dark minion fresh from the dankest levels of hell.

MOSQUITO
Main Entry: mos•qui•to
Pronunciation: m&-'skE-(")tO
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural -toes also -tos
Etymology: Spanish, diminutive of mosca fly, from Latin musca -- more at MIDGE
: any of a family (Culicidae) of dipteran flies with females that have a set of slender organs in the proboscis adapted to puncture the skin of animals and to suck their blood and that are in some cases vectors of serious diseases

TORTURE
Main Entry: 1tor•ture
Pronunciation: 'tor-ch&r
Function: noun
Etymology: French, from Late Latin tortura, from Latin tortus, past participle of torquEre to twist; probably akin to Old High German drAhsil turner, Greek atraktos spindle
1 a : anguish of body or mind : AGONY b : something that causes agony or pain
2 : the infliction of intense pain (as from burning, crushing, or wounding) to punish, coerce, or afford sadistic pleasure

HELL
Main Entry: hell
Pronunciation: 'hel
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English; akin to Old English helan to conceal, Old High German helan, Latin celare, Greek kalyptein
1 a (1) : a nether world in which the dead continue to exist : HADES (2) : the nether realm of the devil and the demons in which the damned suffer everlasting punishment -- often used in curses or as a generalized term of abuse b Christian Science : ERROR 2b, SIN
2 a : a place or state of misery, torment, or wickedness b : a place or state of turmoil or destruction


MOSQUITO TORTURE HELL

So, anyone gleaming what the general topic of today’s blog is going to be from the above entries?

If you guessed unmitigated mental (and physical) anguish in the deep dark corners of the night, you’d be correct!

Lucifer himself decreed that I should lie awake in endless torment, awaiting the whining, soul destroying 'zzzzzzzzttttt' that announces a host of mosquitoes set to converge on my poor, prone sleepy body and bleed me dry.

I was sound asleep last night, when I awoke with a start; something hurt!
Something on my body was burning and insanely itchy.
OH, it’s my entire right arm and left kneecap.
DRAT! There’s a horde of mosquitoes in my room!

“OH PLEASE PLEASE,” I begged out loud to the enveloping dark, tears streaming down my face in fervent supplication...my hands clasped at my chest in an age old gesture of humble and earnest entreaty *, “Please leave me be...look yonder,” I pointed at the prostrate body of my sleeping cat, “Take him. I have to work tomorrow!”

(At this point, I have to admit to a certain amount of guilt about that whole 'offering up of the cat' part.
But before you judge me too harshly, consider the considerable misery and torment that must have induced me to offer, as sacrifice, my cat to the demanding and vicious mosquito god...but he’s a right bastard (The "mosquito god" I mean...not my cat of course)! But I had no choice! I was tired and oh so itchy.)

That incident takes me back to the time I was riding a beautiful white horse across the plains of the Camargue in Provence.
I think it was lovely. I mean, I’m pretty sure it was.

The wild black bulls, the amazing and startlingly pink flamingos and vast green wetlands, all would have been a wonderful thing to see as I rode along that memorable day.

Unfortunately, the many flocks of MOSQUITOES that also grace the rough and rugged beauty of the Camargue got in my way.
All I could see was a great, black swarm of the blood thirsty agents of Beelzebub coming to carry me away to their pestilent leader.
The travel agents certainly didn’t mention THEM in their pamphlets, now did they!!

In short, I wage a daily battle against that wee terror.

I fight valiantly though, killing as many as I can with wild abandon.
I do, despite the knowledge that it's a war I'm destined to lose.






*oh, I do go on so, don't I!

** I've been SUCH a deviant blogger these days that I'm reposting things. BUT, the same hell-driven insects visited me this year so it's not as if it's irrelevant.

POLYGLOT!

1) A book that changed my life: That's a tough question. All books to some degree have changed my life; they all leave a kind of adjustment behind...even if they're not directly recalled, don't they?
A book that changed my life...well.
I going to name a book that changed my life not so much for the content (though it's a great story) but more for the forward and for the fact that if it hadn't been written and I hadn't read it, an intrinsic and valued part of my life would possibly still be lost to time and distance.
So.
The 212 pages of The Tattooed Wolf by Ms. K. Bannerman gets to hold that title.

2) A book I've read more than once: "The Rebel Angels". Robertson Davies. I believe I've raved about it before!

3) A book I'd take to a desert island: Can't I just take my library card? Damn! Another tough question. I can't answer it. Not possible that one single book could suffice. (Though a book about survival on a desert island might come in handy, no?)

4) A book that made me laugh: "Monty Python's Flying Circus: Just the Words". (Nudge nudge, wink wink!)

5) A book that made me cry: See answer to question 1.

6) A book I wish I had written: I think any of the books by Robertson Davies would have pleased me to have written. Or maybe Carol Shields? Of course books by Carl Sagan and Joseph Campbell all could stand in that spot, too.

7) A book that should never have been written: They're out there, but fortunately I've erased them from memory so I don't have titles to supply!

8) A book I'm currently reading: "Salt: A World History" by Mark Kurlansky. I've experienced some mocking for this title, believe you me!

"You're reading a book about WHAT!?! Salt!!? Oh.My.God. Are you serious?

Mind, I've also been ridiculed for using the phrase "I'll keep you abreast of the situation."

I work with cretins, what can I say.

In fact, just yesterday I said something about being obtuse and this reply followed.

"Obtuse? Why do you have to use words like that? I guess I'm just not as smart as you Tai. Oh, wait. I am as smart, I just don't have to use big words to prove it."

I was, to say the least, stung.

"But I REALLY speak like that." I protested. "In fact, all my friends do as well. I can't help it!"
I spoke my defense to uncaring ears.
Sigh.
Good thing I didn't trot out my current favorite word, 'polyglot'.
That would have REALLY annoyed her.

But I digress....
Back to the books!

9) A book I'm planning to read: As many as I can. I figure I've got at least another 50 or 60 years.
I'll just have to plan my time carefully!



*Thanks Dagoth, I enjoyed this quite a bit!

Blogger come back...?

More like deadbeat blogger!

What do they call an old, unused blog?
A 'cobweblog'.

HA!

(groan, yes I realize that was awful and I beg your indulgences. What with this betablog thing they've set up I barely figured out how to get to this one!)

So.

How you doin'?






p.s. a wee picture of my lil' cat Attessa to amuse and entertain

I'm on my way to a blogging comeback...

...but until then the bubbles will have to suffice.
Oh. Right.
There were bubbles AND my mom as the 'White Queen' in a life sized game of chess.

And I found another one of these signs:
It won't be long...I'll be back.

"The Shakespeare Incident."

I want to share with you an amusing episode from the other night (now referred to as "The Shakespeare Incident").
Twas the night before I went to see the Shakespeare play "Midsummer Nights Dream" at Vancouver's "Bard on the Beach Festival" (for which I should include a link instead of being lazy, but alas, I'm expected for dinner shortly and so am pressed for time.)

Spider and her dear husband were visiting that evening, in preparation for said event, and we were all fast asleep in my wee apartment.

Suddenly, in the dark hours before summer's dawn, a voice rang out across the alley, "You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
it: I loved you not.
Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
breeder of sinners?"

"Hey," I started, "That's Hamlet!"

More sonorous quotes, more passages from Hamlet...something about balconies.
But it was the rocks that had Spider leaping to her feet in consternation.

Check out Spider's account. She made me laugh out loud!


(Also? I'm on HOLIDAY! Thus the questionable posting output. I'll be back sometime next week!)

Learning new things.

Early the other morning I believe I found one of the most stunning trees I think I've ever seen.

Oh! And I've seen some truly beautiful trees, I must mention that...there once was a Maple tree in a gently sloping field that I will never forget.
Remember 'Pol? Remember it's limbs that we drowsed in?
And the cows that followed us, hoping for dinner?

Anway.
I digress.

My friend and I happened upon a truly remarkable tree in the Point Grey area of Vancouver last weekend.
We were wandering about, admiring the stately old homes and August full-blown gardens when the most stunning of trees rustled softly over us.

Looking up through the green-glowing sunlight we stopped dead.

A white gray trunk 3 people around full with long delicate branches stood over us, filtering the morning light in a patched spectacle on the pavement where we stood.

Walking across the street to admire it from a distance, we murmured as if on holy ground, "I wonder what kind of tree it is...it's spectacular."
"It must be very old to have grown to that size. I wonder it's age."

As if the tree had sent a messenger to answer us, a non-descript middle aged man on a bicycle rode slowly near, then stopped by us.

Almost unbidden he said, "That's an American Beech Tree. The neighbourhood was established in 1912 and it's thought that that is an original planting."

And just as slowly, our thanks echoing after him, he rode on.
Of course, when I turned to look to see where he had gone, he had vanished.


I love learning new things.

I learned a marvelous tree I love lives at Dunbar and 1st, and that people sometimes still stop to chat with strangers.

Eureka!

It's possible that the entire free world is already acquainted with what I'm about to rave on about, but nonetheless. Here I go.

I have just discovered the very best FREE music site known to (wo)mankind.

At the risk of having all of you dear people raise an concerned eyebrow at me and quietly think to yourselves..."Um, yes dear. And here in North America we also have wonderous inventions called "com-pew-turs" and "in-tur-nets"", damn it. I'm willing to take that chance.

This site is easily navigable and fun. *
It has music on it that I listen to...this is an important requirement, certainly!
(Django Reinhardt is always a difficult one to find and they have it! Lots of it!)

And thus far, it doesn't seem to be the virus distribution site that other 'free music sharing' thing was.
Honestly, that was SO 3 years ago. I can't even remember what it was called! 'Sleeping' something? 'Ster' whatwasit?
Anyway!
This is better. Far, far better.

Oh, and for us Canadians?
Here's a little secret.
When they ask you to create an account (it's free) they'll require you to use an American postal code.
I've heard it rumoured that 12345 works wonders.
Mind...it's just a rumour.
~ahem~






*I must admit here and now that I suffer from a little bit of paranoia.

I worry that this site is just a cleverly disguised gambit to suck all the personal information out of my computer and thereby cleverly obtain a way to possess my soul. (Which, frankly, I'd be more concerned about if I hadn't lost it at a pool game years ago.)

Yet I soldier on.
Spreading the word.

I'm listening to the wonderous music RIGHT NOW.
All hail the amazing music site.
Let us bow down.

AND, a tremendous amount of thanks to M. Viking for bringing this to my attention.
Cheers!

I hate to sound like a nag but...

Be careful out there!

There were two occasions over this weekend where motorcyclists almost hit me, and neither my mom or I were impressed.

The first one involved a motorcycle trying to run a red light in front of me, almost causing a major accident (I don't think his girlfriend on the back was too impressed with him either).

The other incident involved a motorcyclist attempting to change lanes into my car!

C'mon guys!

As the driver of an enclosed vehicle I know to look out for you guys on two wheels (believe me, having also driven a motorcycle I know how vital that is) BUT you have to take care of yourself as well!

There's only so much I can do when you dart out in front of me or try to merge yourself into my car.

So don't do it...okay???