Friday, May 18, 2007


Last night I had a dream that my legs were tan.

How weird is that? I don't remember anything else about the dream except for the tan legs. It was like I had been sitting in the sun with my pants rolled up – slouched in a chair with my feet on a table so that my shins were situated for maximum exposure – because only the front of my legs, from the knee to the ankle, were tanned.

Why would I dream this? First off, I don't tan, I burn. Second, I believe our dreams are a subconscious processing of what we encountered during the day. Or, a processing of our fears. Or, a processing of our desires. Maybe I desire tan legs. Yes, I kind of do desire tan legs. I'm also kind of afraid of exposure to the sun (see blog below – Morbid Imagination). Maybe I dreamt of tan legs because I both desire them and fear the process, thereby killing two subconscious birds with one stone. But then, that leads to the next question…

Don't I have more important things to dream about?

Thursday, May 17, 2007


My glue gun, my friend
With you, I fix and create
Craftiness abounds!

Wee scraps, bits of cloth
Prints, stripes and solid pieces
Bold transformation

Clickity click clack
Flashing needles, twisted yarn
Trailing purple scarf

Friday, May 04, 2007


The other day at work I started thinking about euphemisms. I like words and word play, but sometimes I don't like euphemisms. Take "death". There was a death in the family. Her grandfather died. I saw a dead guy on the sidewalk in Vancouver. These are all perfectly fine for me. What often bothers me are euphemisms that exist to soften the blow of death. He passed. Passed what? Statistics 101? Departed. Deceased. Gone to a better place. Checked out. Bit the big one. Bit the dust. Bought the farm. Cashed in their chips. Gone south. Pushing up daisies. Six feet under. Kicked the bucket. Croaked. Some of these soften by making light of the matter - I like them best. I was talking to a friend once about when my Grandma died and he corrected me - he told me I should say passed, it sounds nicer. It may sound nicer but it's not brutal enough to correspond with the devastation of having lost my Grandma!

So while thinking in the euphemistic vein, I wondered how many I could come up with for that part of the anatomy on which we sit. We got 43. I say we, because it became a group effort.

DUFF (does this mean on the Simpsons, they're drinking Butt Beer?)

A couple of these terms were completely new to me, and one may be a word specific to my family, well really, specific to my Grandma. (Did I mention she was my most favorite person in the whole world?) Have we missed any?

P.S. Thanks to my cohorts, George & Michael.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007


Who invented the toaster oven? Some clever person, interested in efficiency and small spaces. Someone interested in appliances that can do double duty. Someone who knew that people without toasters or ovens would buy them. Who also knew that people with toasters and people with ovens and even people with toasters and ovens would be lured by the cleverness of the toaster oven. Someone with small hands.

The other day I burned my hand on the toaster oven in our office kitchen (the other market for this cunning appliance). Whatever niche the toaster oven may fill, it does not work for people with big Hungarian peasant hands. I smelled the burn before I felt it. It was on the side of the knuckle of the index finger. That patch of skin had turned tan. Soon the redness started. I ran it under cool water and wrapped a wet paper towel around and ice cube. I held the ice against the burn on and off while I ate my lunch. Forty five minutes later I was back at my desk and looked at the burn only to find that I burned my hand in two places! There was another, much larger lesion where the thumb attaches to the carpal bones. This second burn made an interesting comparison of what happens when you treat a burn right away, and what happens when you don't. It's better to treat right away.

The theory on burn treatment is to use cold water or ice as the primary treatment in order to stop the skin from burning any more. If you don't cool it down right away, the skin continues to burn long after it's it is removed from the heat source. So, my second burn blistered a bit and hurt for days, while the first one gave me no discomfort at all. I have patches of red on my hand now, and if previous burns are anything to go by, it will be months before they go away. A bit unsightly, but not too bad. I could be wearing chipped nail polish.

What is the deal with the chipped nail polish anyway? Is it an affected fashion or is it neglect and laziness? I never wear nail polish on my hands because I can't go a day without it chipping and I don't have the time to constantly fix my nails. I used to have the time. Polished nails were important to me. I've realized though, that in the whole scheme of life, they are unimportant as hell. I have much better things to do now than to constantly fix and fuss over my nails. Not that I don't like a well manicured hand. It is nice to have longer, well shaped nails, cuticles pushed back and trimmed, hands softened by lotion, but you can have that if you spend fifteen minutes a week. What is with this chipped nail polish?

This is what I see all over town: Young girls with bitten-to-the-quick nails sporting chipped dark or black polish. First of all, if you have a nail biting problem, why would you want to call attention to it by applying color to the bitten nail? It exacerbates the problem. It makes the fingers looks stubby. And, if you want color on the nails, why would you want chipped color? It's ubiquitous - the bitten, chipped-color nails on the younger girls. I think it must be a fashion statement. What else could it be?

I guess it's OK if that what you want. But then, in the mornings, when I'm trying to get to work and wishing I was still in that drowsy state in my bed all snuggled under my luscious down comforter, and I stop at my local coffee place to get my jump start caffeine groove, my apprehension grows. It grows in a way that is not good for your health so early in the morning. It grows in a way that is really not necessary, and therefore quite irksome. I don't need this extra stress, as I carefully watch my barista make my double tall non-fat latte, wondering if any of that chipped nail polish is making its way into my morning beverage. Ugh!