There's not much going on with me lately, but I wanted to send a message out to everyone who is going away this long weekend. Have fun and play safe.

Yummy! We made strawberry jam yesterday. We weren't as ambitious as Maikopunk, who picked her own berries on the way back from Summerland. Our only effort for securing the strawberries was to drive out to Krause Berry Farm and buy a box. It's an interesting little place. They've built themselves quite a little berry empire. There's a stand where you can get all kinds of baked goods, fresh fruit smoothies, and other berry-related refreshments. Check it out if you're looking for local berries and have some time to kill.

Question: What can ruin a perfectly good day?

Answer: Taking transit.

Last Thursday was the first of the two-day long Magazines West festival of learning and schmoozing. Thanks to Melanie's urgings to join her in volunteering for the Western Magazine Awards (I soon found out that her motive was for self-preservation), I was able to attend, gratis, many of the seminars/workshops. They were held in a room with almost too much view in the Vancouver Renaissance hotel. And even though the door was distractingly noisy, we managed to absord some of the information which was being lobbed at our heads.

Thursday's seminars included tips to develop a one-year growth plan, a disappointingly rudimentary editing workshop (which was attended by some PF-ers and some folks from alive...it was good to see them), and a workshop on creating your editorial vision. We couldn't get into the Keynote address luncheon, so we walked done Hastings to find this fancy new chocolate shop, which has at least 30 different chocolate bars, delicious chocolate drinks (hot and cold, with organic peppermint), and fondue! We blew our budgets on cold drinks, and had to slum at Tim Hortons for sustenance before returning to the evening seminar.

When 5pm rolled around, I was safely in a good mood. I had seen some good friends (unexpectedly ran into someone I had worked with a couple of years ago), learned some good stuff, and had spent too much on a delicious chocolate drink.

Then I had to hop back on Skytrain in the middle of rush hour to get home. What ruined the day for me wasn't the crowdedness, the smells, or the white trash mothers. What ruined the day for me was the worry that while in that crowded car, inundated by the horrible smells and horrible children, that I might have caught whatever was causing that woman to calmly and quietly spew grossness into the battered paper cup she had with her for just that purpose. She did it all the way from Waterfront Station to the other end of the line in Surrey. There was nothing I could do but hold back the vomit, hold my breath, and hope that I wasn't breathing in her germiness while I waited for the crowd to thin so I can creep away from her.

I wonder if her name was Mary?

The most observant readers of my blog will have noticed that I changed the format. I had felt for a couple of weeks that that groovy, dark blue layout with the multi-coloured dots was making my eyes do bad things. My eyes were freaking out every time I was looking at my blog. I figured that the colours were a little too dazzling for me, and probably for you, too.

So I decided to change the template to something more plain and perhaps more reader-friendly. The ever-observant Josie immediately saw the change, and sent a witty comment my way.

But my eye-saving change brought an unforeseen and unwanted side-effect: I lost all my comments. I think that I was using haloscan for the commentary, but even with Xine's help, I still haven't been able to resintall. I hope, one day, to retrieve everyone's witty comments. Truly, I would be nothing without them.

And now, a few days after I changed the format and lost all my comments, I realize that my eye problems may have had nothing to do with the template. Last Friday turned from bad to worse when I suffered a sudden onset migraine while volunteering with Meladuck at the Western Magazine Awards headquarters. I had driven in to Vancouver, and was therefore stranded while my eyes did wondrous things that prevented me from getting behind the steering wheel.

It seemed like the room was filled with spinning fans in the periphery of my vision. There was no way that I could even think of getting into my car to drive the 45-60 minute (not minuet) drive home. I had to sit on Sherry's couch and wait for the swirling to subside. When it did, my headache was increasing, as was my nausea. I bid a swift adieu, and bolted. Still hoping to cash in on the "let's go to Starbucks" conversation that we'd had earlier in the day, Meladuck followed me out the door. I felt so bad when I told her that I had to skip the Starbucks this time around. The thought of piling sugar and caffeine on top of my headache made me ill. I just hopped into my car and sped off.

I almost made it home without incident. But the nausea climaxed ironically at the turnoff for alive's spiteful offices. So I found myself puking into a handy plastic bag just down the road from the place that had so meanly inflated my ego, and then stuck it with a giant pin. Don't think that I wasn't tempted to deposit my spillage on their doorstep. However, I was still far from home and still nauseous. I kept my plastic bag just in case.

I'm glad that I did. After waiting a tortuous amount of time to get onto the Patullo Bridge, I almost made it home before the nausea hit again. I ended up asking a lot of that handy little plastic bag after contributing more spillage.

Even though I didn't think I'd ever make it home, I did. I grabbed a couple of pills, and went to bed. I slept for 10 hours.

This is another tale that can be added to my short story collection, so aptly titled Secretions by the ever-observant Josie. I'll get to writing that once the nausea has passed.

Here's a link to an awesome photo essay by Time magazine called "What the World Eats." The writers/photographers visited families around the world, and took photos of their weeks' food supply. It's simply brilliant and informative.

Huzzah!

Sometimes it takes a rainy day to put your life in order. Due to the oppressive, unrelenting weather, I spent the afternoon on the computer, searching through my storage cds. I was looking for a particular project from my past which I want to revisit. It was one that was never finished. Once finished, though, it will be a stellar example of many of my skills, especially editing and design.

This particular project is a rewrite of an article that appeared approximately 20 years in an issue of Science magazine. As per our lessons of the last two years, this article demonstrated a keen interest in and understanding of the subject matter by the writer. However, the poor girl needed to be smited heavily by the mighty red pen of the editor. The article is a horrendous mash of fake-your-way-to-the-top writing. The writer used all the big, overblown words and all the convoluted structures that indicate that she wasn't too comfortable in her role as writer. I will correct all that. And I'll make the layout interesting, too.

But I digress. While poking around on this cd, I found a whole cache of projects which I'd thought I had lost forever. I had been certain, until this discovery, that they had been saved on another cd...the one with which I have had so much trouble. Whenever I try to open it, either at home or at the library, the cd jams the machines, and I have to take drastic measures to get the computer to stop and let go. I still don't know what is on that cd. But I do know that it wasn't hiding the documents I was looking for. So yay!

But then again, boo, for all the found distractions.

One more thing...here's a link to the concert Sara and I went to about a month ago. Click there if you like Ron Sexsmith, Sara Slean, Veda Hille, or that french guy. Also, click there if you like Gordon Lightfoot, Joni Mitchell, or Buffy Ste. Marie.

I was googling myself today (yes, I know that sounds dirty), and I found this: http://forums.dogphoria.com/forums/post/59.aspx. It's the first time I've been linked. Yay for me.

I had this moment today, after I missed going to the graduation ceremony (sorry to everyone who went), that I was totally anxious about missing Wegnerd and her class. I had this horrible, sinking feeling that I was forgetting all I'd learned from her, and that I was wasting time by not learning more from her. What is wrong with me?

I mowed the lawn quickly this morning, running around the yard, pushing the lawnmower like one of those too fit parents who push their kids in jogging strollers. I was trying to beat the rain, which I did.

When I got back inside, I went to my room to get stuff for my shower. I was sweaty, rainy, and smelly of grass and gas (not mine). As I usually do, I flicked on the tv while getting my stuff. It was 11am. I always wonder who’s on Ellen (not literally, although anything could happen, and that would certainly make for “good tv”).

The sound came on first, and I couldn’t recognize the voices. As the picture came in, I realized that I was on channel 47, and I was hearing and seeing the indominitable Mrs. Garrett. In her shrill voice, she was sassing back to Mr. Drummond in the way that only indominatable redheads can sass back to their employers. She sassed, “I don’t do boys.” He reacted with typical, D-list, sitcom actor skill. (Oh, my god. I just found out that Conrad Bain, the actor who "portrayed" Mr. Drummond, was born in Alberta. Yikes! Another fine Canadian export to Hollywood.)

I reeled from the double and triple entendres of that phrase. It made me wonder about naivete. I used to watch Diff’rent Strokes (oh, the entendres…and what’s with that apostrophe, maikopunk?) when it was first on tv. I don’t remember it being at all racy (except, you know, the plotline about a rich white guy adopting to Afro-American kids from the ghetto…and we all know how well that social experiment turned out: Arnold; Willis; Bitchface/Kinberly). So I had to think to myself, which was more naïve…me or the ‘80s? I’ll leave it to you, my e-friends, to decide.

I don't know why I did it, but I decided to search FaceBook for groups/people connected to my elementary school and high school. Although there were a lot of groups for my elementary school, none looked familiar. But when I searched for my high school, I found one group of myv very own: a group for my graduating class.

It's a small group of only 8 people. Considering that we had over 160 people in my graduating class, that's a small amount. But they're trying to get it to grow because IT'S OUR FREAKING 20 YEAR REUNION NEXT YEAR!

I was not emotionally prepared for this shocking bit of news. I was just innocently (I thought) nosing around through the internet. Now I'm in a state of deep panic. I'm so unsuccessful.

I feel compelled to run out and get published. In a big way, not in the tiny, thrifty way I've been published in a certain magazine. Yes, it's nice to see your name in print. But it's even nicer to get paid hugely for it. I realize that I shouldn't complain. Please don't berate me for my whinging.

But now that I think about it, I realize that I didn't get a phone call for the 10 year reunion until the weekend before it was happening. Obviously, I wasn't high on anyone's list of priorities. Maybe they will forget me this time around, too. That would be okay. I don't really want to see anyone. Besides, I don't really understand the concept of a reunion, anyhow. Don't people who want to stay in contact stay in contact?