Monday, August 30, 2004

People should wear reflective devices at night and leash their cats. And refrain from threats and violence. Sheesh.
I call up to confirm my Victoria's Secret Angel credit card.

Ryan, the Representative: ...And what state do you live in?
Me: I live in Ontario.
Ryan: We're actually in Newfoundland! Can you believe that?
Me: That's odd...
Ryan: It is odd. Hey can you hear my accent at all?
Me: Yeah, a little.
Ryan: Okay, just wondering. Have a great night!

I love Newfies.

Saturday, August 28, 2004

One of my all-time favourite quotes...

The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.

- Blaise Pascal

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Today I noticed a sign on Peter's wood-refining device that says Danger--Do Not Operate. Perhaps I'm the only one who finds that mildly alarming.

The other day, as Quo was teaching me how to use a new drill, he said, "Don't hold foot pedal or machine go BAM!" What exactly do you suppose that BAM entails? I certainly didn't know, and I avoided finding out. I still don't know whether he was just trying to scare me out of doing it, because something somewhat unpleasant happens when the foot pedal is held down, or if it really DOES go BAM.

Minh: Diana, where's your boyfriend?
Me: They're everywhere!
Many Vietnamese men laugh.

I finally saw Alien vs. Predator. It was quite the good movie. I need all of the Alien movies on DVD. They're grand. And since my hair is so like that of Sigourney Weaver in the 80s, I'm pretty sure I could defend the earth against Aliens. All I need to do is start going around saying things like, "Everyone on the company will die," "There's a monster in your chest...a really nasty one," and "I'm the monster's mother."

I just realized the other day that the nice warm metal box that I sit on when I have a few moments between piles has a picture of a lightning bolt on it. Hmmm.

What is it? I don't know. Is it real, is it fake? Is it disguised? Am I on the wrong track, or the right one, or a benign one? Help!

Sunday, August 22, 2004

Hmmm...



How to make a Diana
Ingredients:

5 parts intelligence

3 parts self-sufficiency

5 parts instinct
Method:
Add to a cocktail shaker and mix vigorously. Add a little cocktail umbrella and a dash of wisdom
So many delightful activities have passed since last I blogged that it would be a travesty to attempt to recapture them all at this point. And so I shall leave you with only these few key words, so that I don't forget them myself:

Balsam Lake
Wasaga Beach
navigating
four consecutive
Alien movies until 5:30am with Tim and Melonie
the old Payless and its children
the Olympics
child-filled hotel swimming pools
the Olive Garden
turkey slices and cheese strings
Operation Chaos
road trip to GC? LOL!
Joe's abandonment
"Need a taxi?"
endless shopping


And now I shall share with you a song that I wrote while going to Buffalo last weekend:

The Border Song

Stop here,
Proceed when clear.

Where are you from?
How long are you going?
Why are you going?
Where, what, why, who, when?

Stop here,
Proceed when clear.

At the Canada-US border,
Here we are to cross;
To step over the line,
Go from one to the other.

Stop here,
Proceed when clear.

Firearms or contraban?
Cuban cigars or Molson?
Plaid shirts or Coffee Crisps?
...Any prescription drugs?

Stop here,
Proceed when clear.

Leave that Monopoly money.
Don't bring your Tim Horton's in here.
Stop looking superior.
You have peace but we have guns. Ha!

Stop here,
Proceed when clear.


And there you have it! Brilliant, eh?

Sometime I will share the new series of children's books that I'm working on with you. And you'll be astounded at my (and Monica's) creativity once again! Hurrah for us! :)

But now I shall go, and read, and then sleep the sleep of one who is content in so, so many ways...for once.

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Today, as I walked past Peter, I got the overwhelming sense that he was crouched and ready to spring. A wave of fear overcame me until I had passed safely by--the kind of fear that you experience when you suddenly realize that the dog you are petting is foaming at the mouth and looking at you strangely. The Search for the Truth continues.

Me: George, you should marry a Halminen.
Sarah: Why?
George: Because then I'd be an aristocrat!
Me: Exactly.

And why am I not at Millwork helping set up the display? You'd think they could've asked. Well, maybe next time.

George: Are any of you guys at Millwork?
Me, Sarah, Monica: No...
Me: I want to go to Millwork! Why didn't they ask me? I could bring tons of good ideas to the table...
George: I'm sure you have lots to contribute.
Me: Wow, thank you, George. You don't know how much that means to me.
George: Wait, what did I just say?

Sarah informed me of a large pile of sawdust behind Woodwork.

Me: WOW! Let's go jump in it!
Sarah: No, I don't want to get all sawdusty...
Me: Oh, come on!
Sarah: No... Why don't you ask Monica? She doesn't think of things like that.
Me: Hmmm... Excellent idea!

And so, Monica and I jumped in the sawdust pile, until Neil drove up. We thought he was going to yell at us. But he didn't. Then he started talking, and we realized that Mr. Knowles was halfway up the side of the silo, right beside us, looking in to see how full it was.

Sarah: Can I climb it?
Mr. Knowles: Yeah, sure.
Monica: Ooo...can I climb it too?
Mr. Knowles: Yep.
Me: Me too, me too?
Mr. Knowles: Just don't fall, or I'll never talk to you again.

We climbed up. We saw. We gazed in astonishment as all of Oshawa lay at our feet. We wondered what the spear-like things fastened to the top were. (I thought they kept the dragons away. Monica thought they kept flying dogs away. Sarah thought they were lightning rods. Sarah was probably right.) We decided that it would be a pity to be up there and not spit over the railing. We spat seventy-three feet to the ground below. We climbed down.

Now to organize this camping adventure that I shall embark upon before Wakestock. Pity me; it is not a task to be taken lightly, especially when surrounded by nincompoops. (Just kidding. A-ha. Ha. Ha.)

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Keep alert--keep alive. This is what the signs posted around my place of work instruct us, amidst line drawings of hands being crushed by gears or ripped to shreds by exposed saw blades. It may astonish some of you who know me well that I am still alive in a place where keeping alert is one's only protection against shuffling off the mortal coil. Quite frankly, I'm rather surprised myself.

Today my suspicions that Peter of the Tenor beside Cutoff is a wolfman, or werewolf, if you will, were greatly increased. Evidence follows.

1) His physical characteristics.
He has black shaggy hair, and a gray-white shaggy beard. His nose is rather sharp, and he moves like a wolf might if he were capable of walking upright.

2) His behavioural tendencies.
He tends to stumble on occasion, probably because the flourescent lighting is so far removed from the light of the full moon. He can probably see almost better at night than inside the Mill. His speech is a little bit rough and unrefined. And today, when I threw a small piece of wood at Matt because he poked me, Peter looked at it almost as though he would have liked to fetch it. (Mind you, a wild wolf would not fetch, but one exposed to human influence, either from the outside or within, as the case may be, might.)

3) His attire.
He frequently wears shirts or hats with wolves on them. This is either subconscious or it is intentional baiting; he may want someone to discover his terrible secret so that he doesn't have to bear the weight of it alone, even if it means confinement, or worse.

4) Folklore.
"Peter and the Wolf." Coincidence? I think not.

I am almost on the point of mentioning to him that I know another of his kind in California. I would, if that wouldn't lead him to think that I am insane (should my suspicions prove false), or might expose the identity of the other one I know. Both would probably be unpleasant at best. Now, the other one that I know hides the truth slightly better. Peter has a cruder knowledge of concealment, in my opinion, and perhaps isn't quite as intelligent.

I am not condemning Peter for being a wolfman. Oh no. In fact, I find it quite interesting. So don't get the wrong impression. However, I offer you the circumstantial evidence that I have gathered so that you might reach a conclusion as well. I shall continue to Seek the Truth, which is all I desire.

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Canada has managed to enslave two of the still-half-heartedly-wriggling flies in the proverbial American butter: the French and the Vietnamese.

How, you ask?

Woodwork, I reply.

And another week begins, with many bruises. Ah well, such is life. Nothing comes easy, as they say. I am so very, very glad that I am in university.

Last night, Monica, Sarah, Zach, Katie and I went to David's house. Always a fun place to go. His dad took us all out in the boat (er, one of the boats) for wakeboarding. It was fun, and I enjoyed spending time with my friendlings.

And quite a weekend we have planned too. I hope it all works out! :)

Sunday, August 01, 2004

Last weekend, I went to Kingston, for Pam's annual family reunion. On the way from her parents' house to her aunt's house, we came to the little town of Delta. It was the weekend of the Delta Fair, starring Shania Twin. Yes, Twin. And no, it's not really her. Clearly. Anyways, the parade was just beginning when we got there. Of course, Delta only has one road, and it is neatly situated between two lakes. So, we were forced to pull off into a gas station/grocery store, and watch it go by for 45 minutes. Ah, it was truly impressive. There was the OPP in all it's glory, leading and tailing. And, of course, many floats by the Shriners, for miles around. Ottawa, even. And little tiny cars, being driven by...Shriners! And an "Oriental Band" (which was terrible, by the way) made up of...Shriners! Hurrah for the community spirit of the Shriners!

In any case, after that, we proceeded on to Pam's aunt Carol's house. Carol's husband makes his own maple syrup, and keeps bees, and then sells his wares at the local flea market. He also sells plants. He's a fine fellow, who played his guitar and sang marvelous songs like "Rocky Mountain High" and "The Squaws Along the Yukon". He told us that the idea that "rural people" have of a stag party is getting together with a case of beer. To liven things up a bit, they sometimes have minnow races. Oh yes, minnow races. Fascinating sub-culture, really. Thrilling, fast-paced, and all that. Pam's uncles are awesome.

Uncle Tony, 74, and dating after the death of his wife three years ago gets up to leave.
Uncle Rick: Where are you going? Got a hot date?
Uncle Tony: Well she isn't now, but I hope she warms up later!

Then we returned to Pam's parents' house for the night and the next day. We swam in their new pool, which was quite entertaining. Pam's dad, Art, keeps a bull.

Pam: What's the bull's name?
Art: Cow.
Me: Woah. How emasculating.

Cow had a brother, but he fell down a well.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were ten-hour days at Woodwork. Yay. I think I did stuff in the evenings. But it's all become a blur of sawdust and aching muscles.

Friday my mom and I drove up to the cottage. There was traffic, which there usually isn't at that time of day, because of an accident on the 401. It took us four hours to get there. Insanity! My grandparents were up there, in their trailer. And my uncle, Gis, Remy, and Tim were as well. It was rainy, so we didn't really do much. We mostly just talked. But it was quite fun anyways. Thoroughly enjoyable. We came back late Saturday night, because we both had stuff to do today. My mom had to go to Andy, and I had to go to Monica's mom's wedding.

Ah, the wedding. It was marvelous. It was a nice ceremony...short and to the point, but nice. Which I greatly appreciated. Monica's mom looked very nice. Her dress was beautiful. Monica looked lovely herself, of course, and also had a very pretty dress. Weddings are such good excuses to acquire dresses. :D The reception was at 4:30, in an area of Oshawa that I've never seen before. Odd. The best man was highly amusing. Friends of the bride had grape juice, and friends of the groom had wine. Also highly amusing. The food was good, and I got to meet some of Monica's cousins that she's always talking about, which was interesting. I think that Mark and Liisa will be very happy together. I hope so, anyways. Let us pray that their marriage is not a box, taped shut, but a pretty lidless wicker basket.

And there was dancing! Oh it was wonderful. I finally got to dance with someone male! Hurrah! :D And with Monica's charming and attractive young male cousins, too! Josh and Chad. Very sweet. But of course I danced with Monica too. I was highly thrilled by the dancing, and quite glad to get some use out of the dress I bought to dance in in Italy but never used for such. Well, it's been danced in now, and happily, too.

Paul, after my repeated observations that I'd danced with charming and attractive young men that aren't related to me: Do you feel sinful?
Me: No. I feel happy. And if that's a sin, well, I'm going to hell!

After the bride and groom left, and everything was winding down, Monica and I got a ride in the best man's Corvette.

Some man, to the best man, as Monica and I squished into the single passenger's seat: Well, now, doesn't this look familiar...

Ah, dancing and young men and fast cars. And all in one night. I think I'm spoiled now. Sigh. But oh well, it was worth it. ;)