...official goodbye

so...you both (both referring to my two viewers, Mrs. H and Seastar) are well aware that I am not the best at updating my blog...Mrs. H, I'm quite certain you've given up checking my page quite some time ago...am I right? Right.  Seastar, you've yelled at me on numerous occasions re: my lack of updates

SO! To combat my pitiful blogging diligence (but more so because previous postings are not "family friendly" - case in point: Thou shalt not fornicate post) Mr. L and I will be starting a new blog sometime in the near future, which will be authored by the BOTH of us.  Worry not - you will be relayed the link.

Until then, adieu dear friends!  Adieu.

seedlings, blossoms and lots and lots of manure

It's been a busy week here at the L&L household.  We cleaned up our "garden", went to see the cherry blossoms, and visited Mr. L's grandma/uncle's farm in London.  Proof is posted below.

The new comers

Weeds

After weeding...sadly, this is 100 times more "homey" and aesthetically pleasing than before.

breath of fresh air

Mr. L and I were supposed to go for our morning run today but a particular somebody (who shall remain nameless) decided to sleep in.   Okay fine.  T'was me.  I was tired, and I think I had a restless sleep and my fatigued legs just wanted to...not run...a little more.   In any case, as "punishment" we forced ourselves to go for a night run after we came home from our AQ courses.

I should be more clear; Mr. L called it "punishment".  I on the other hand find night runs a delight.  There's something very comforting about running in the cloak of darkness (perchance I was a thieving vagrant in a previous life).  I'm afforded the luxury of not having to worry about sharing the sidewalk with pedestrians, free from their stink-eye attacks as I sidle past them.  It's just me, the store fronts, the occasional headlights of cars whizzing past, and the concrete beneath me feet.  The cool night breeze slaps my face every now and again and urges me to keep going, to keep pushing forward, to make it to that bridge.

The bridge I'm referring to is the one located on the Danforth overlooking the Don Valley Parkway, and is another reason I enjoy my night runs.  There's something very calming about peering over the bridge and seeing the parade of lights ess down the Parkway, feeling the rumble of the bridge as the train passes beneath.

On that note, adieu.

liar, liar, pants on fire

Fine.  T'is not true.  One is not set ablaze for telling a tall tale - though...sometimes I really wish they were.  Moreover those hiding the truth or omitting information (probably because one knows it is - or can be conceived as being - questionable behavior) should be subject to the same fate.  


Today falls under the category of those "sometimes".  Alas - all I can do is squint my eyes and pretend their head is exploding.  I jest...but not really.  I think my pants just caught flame...

A liar...caught on fire...or perhaps doing a cool dance.  Who's to say.

see, see, no touch

I am a proud member of the Only-Child Society (heretofore referred to simply as "OCS").  I am certain that you (the general public) have made contact on numerous occasions with members of this highly recognizable group.   A high degree of independence and need-to-get-one's-way-ism, and "selfishness" (though this designation is often due to misinterpretation of our disposition by laymen) are some of the most notable characteristics of OCS individuals.  Not to expose myself as a celebrity, but...I am actually the poster child for OCS.

I could elaborate on several characteristics I share with my fellow OCS members, however, they are so vast in number that I grow weary at the mere thought of it.  So, I shall elaborate on the "selfish" aspect of our group only.

Unless it's the sharing of ideas/resources with colleagues, I do not like to share. It doesn't matter what it is - a toy, a pencil, my notes, my partner's affections....- but what's mine, is mine.  If you like it, you should have got one for yourself; leave mine alone.

Why do I have such an aversion to sharing?  For starters, people are generally disrespectful of other people's things.  They chew on the end of your pencil "unknowingly" and return the saliva covered, half eaten,  "writing utensil" back to you with a mere "sorry about that" as a pathetic attempt to rectify the fact that they've reuined a once perfectly prestine, working pencil (an act of blasphemy to the Business-Depot gods really). No.  I reject your apology.  If I wanted a sample of your enzymatic juices, I would have stuck my finger in your mouth, jerk.  You owe me a new pencil.  Or they borrow your notes, written on crisp, card-stock Five-Star quality paper and they get returned to you, doggy eared with coffee stains accompanied yet again by a mere "sorry about that."  I gave you the gift of knowledge and this is the thanks I get?  No.  I reject your apology...and I kind of want to stab you in your eye...

Also, I have this derranged belief that once I share something, its value is diminished to me, or conversely my significance to it is diminished.  If multiple people can have the same access to the same item, I feel like there is a diminished sense of preference/significance per individual.   I like to hold on to my possessions like they're my treasures - like I'm the special gatekeeper with sole, unlimited access.  Does this characterize me as a "selfish" individual?  Perhaps.  Ultimately, I'm just looking out for myself...it's not a bad idea that you do the same.

Like goats to my ears...

As a self-proclaimed "honorary member" of Mr. L's family, I have the privilege of being exposed to all sorts of whimsy and..."unique"...experiences.  Case in point: private Rik Palieri house concert hosted by Mr. L's parents last Saturday night.  

T'was my first house concert.   I had been ignorant to the existence of such concerts up to this point...though I've conferred with my Seastar and she too had been unaware...perhaps it's a cultural thing...perhaps its a deprived childhood/life thing...who's to say...toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.  In any case, the night began with Mr. L and I rushing over to the parent's nest for dinner...with Mr. Palieri in attendance.  Mr. L's family is a rather musical bunch, and their knowledge of obscure...yes...OBSCURE...artists and instruments (that never ceases to astound me) helped the dinner conversation progress smoothly.  I on the other hand, gave smiles and giggles here and there but for the most part, stuck to what I knew: food.  I don't mean conversing about it so much as eating it.  And let me tell you, the food was glorious!  The flavourful, savoury taste of the creamy red-pepper sauce of the pasta danced on my palate until I guided the delectable, morsel of food - a celebrity really - down its journey into my eagerly waiting stomach, in which, I imagine, an after-party was held in celebration of the arrival of such a special guest.  In short, I really enjoyed dinner.

The guests started to arrive sometime after 7pm and the show was ready to go by 8.  For the first half of his act, Rik had us singing along to his banjo/guitar (named lucky)/aboriginal love flute/harmonica (the silliest of all instruments in my mind) tunes.  There was singing, there was clapping, and there were smiles all around.  But it was the second half of his act that really had me blown away.  For one, he had a song about a doll with my FULL name...creepy...Second, for his second last song, he played....A GOAT.  Let me put in context...it was a goat that's been made into a Polish bagpipe.  I thought it was pretty cool at first...but then the inflated goat skin (which still had the form of a goat just head- and legless) really started to get to me...mmm it was a very similar moment to the Simpson's episode when Lisa turns vegetarian "Pleeeasseeee Lisssaaa don't eeeat me!  I thought you looooove me....looooove me."  Like that.  Though I suppose I wasn't eating the goat...just...listening to it.

Anyhow, I sulked my way into having Mr. L take a quick photograph of said goat before we left for home.  The proof is posted below.  Enjoy.

Goat.  Though I now realize it looks more like a cat in this pic.

Hurrah for Y chromosomes!!

We finally received a positive response from a school!

Mr. L fired off an email last night to an international school in Gyeongnam.  Actually...it was technically a follow-up email to the one I had sent them almost a month ago.  I've been trying to get in contact with this school since February 12, and each time I was sent an automated email saying "We have received your email and will respond to you soon." uh...yeah. no. They never got back to me. Mr. L shot off the email late last night, and they responded within hours!! I sense sexism at play...BUT! No matter! The school is "very interested in our application."

After a long hiatus of International School contact, days weeks of mulling over our apparently "undesirability" and a rough day at school (curses to shortened periods!), their response is most welcomed. Dangle a job in front of me and I can overlook their preference for the "male species"...after all, I tend to prefer them myself so who am I to judge?

quarter century + 1

Today, my beloved Seastar turns the big 2-5...for the second time.  It seems like it was just yesterday we were celebrating her 13th birthday...gathered around in a circle playing spin the bottle, slow-dance version. Now, our prudish ways have long gone (perhaps a more accurate statement for myself and not her...) and we can no longer depend on a bottle to choose our partners for us - no, that's what Universities are for.

It's always on my Seastar's birthday that I reflect on our age.  I often have to think about how old she is to remember how old I am.  In any case back to my train of thought; when did we get so "old"?  I know that in the grand scheme of things, we're actually in the prime of our lives.  Mid-twenties?  Pfffft!  We're practically new borns!  But seriously...thinking about the age as an abstract, numerical concept...or thinking back to how I perceived people in their mid- to late-twenties when I was younger...I feel I should have accomplished more by now!  Or at least feel different in some way...no?  In many ways...I still feel like I'm 18...

Alas...I must accept the fact that the years are just going to keep on coming and keep on adding...well...unless you live in denial like my lovely...who will stay 25 forever...

In any case...I digress...partly because I don't want to think about it anymore, but mostly because I'm running on 2 hours of sleep and I'm quite certain this entry is rather incoherent.  

On that note...adieu...and good night.

Additional qualifications: wedding bands

"We have spoken of marriage and plan on it, however marriage is not financially nor logistically possible between now and August"  Mr. L, in correspondence.

Korea seems quite adamant that Mr. L and I tie the knot.  As though one of my relatives has infiltrated every possible foreign/international school, time and time again we are met with the same "Christian Biblical values" that beseech us to walk the aisle.  

Mr. L is currently in an "e-mail-off" with a director of human resources, explaining our unmarried cohabitation rooted in our "conscientious Catholic faith."  This was in reply to the director's e-mail informing us that although couples have formed and consequently married in their school faculty, if we are "intimately partnered" already, we may not be a strong fit to their school.  An eloquent writer, Mr. L is not having much difficulty drafting up a well articulated, concise rebuttal - though, he toyed with the idea of ending with an "if you were wondering if I know her in the Biblical sense...the answer is yes."

Update:  The director's reply is in; a roundabout "no."

Despite our pleading, the lack of jewellery on our fourth fingers bars our entry to yet another school.  

curses to cereal

...I'd never thought I'd say those words.  But today...oh today...CURSES I say!  Context?...

I was famished after my workout considering I had a pretty meagre breakfast/lunch today...and it was well into the evening when I had wrapped up.   Mr. L explicitly said that we weren't going to have left over pasta tonight and that he'd cook something.  Oh sorry - I should have prefaced this post with a bold Ms. L DOES NOT COOK. I'm not one to cook up a frenzy when I am upset.  In fact, I am not one to cook when I am hungry.  I will wait hours on end until someone *Mr. L* comes home to feed me, or will snack on no-preparation-needed foods.  No.  Ms. L does not cook.  In any case, so I raced home (sadly to an empty house) to eat my favorite snack: a full bowl of oatmeal crisp (of the Almond variety) with a little bit of bran...to you know...keep it regular. ("eeeeeeuw" says you.  "shut it - it's biology" says I).  I was trying to eat it in a hurry though.  Mr. L has a vendetta against cereal.  Something about preservatives?  Anyhow, no matter.  Point is that Mr. L does not like that I eat cereal at the frequency and amount that I do, particularly before dinner....something about spoiling appetites.  Anyway, so as I'm hurridly shovelling the wonderfully delicious flakes of goodness into my mouth, Mr. L walks through the door.  I froze like a deer caught in head lights and was immediately met with the all too familiar "you're doing something you shouldn't be" gaze from Mr. L.  After a good scolding, Mr. L made me cook dinner as punishment.  Okay he didn't actually say "punishment" but that's what it felt like to me.  Needless to say, I was not pleased.  Curses to you cereal, CURSES!

... yes I am aware that I am deflecting my blame to an inanimate object.  Listen you; nobody likes a Captain Obvious.

Private, home concert

No no no. It's not what you think - this post is not an adjunct to my fornication post...

It's Friday night and I'm just tinkering away on my Mac in bed as Mr. L strums away on his guitar.  There's no other place I'd rather be than right here, listening to him play his heart away right into mine.

Melted Snowflakes

"I watched as the words fell off his lips
 like dancing snowflakes off my eyelashes
 in an instant they were gone
 leaving me dazed
 wondering if they were ever really there"

"Thou shalt not fornicate..."

is essentially what we were told.  Context?  Read on.

Mr. L and I were off in Kingston Ontario this weekend for the Teachers' Overseas Recruiting Fair.  Preferred destination?  Korea.  (Mr. L and I are pretty set on Korea...no country shopping here!  We've made up our minds!)

Only three Korean international schools were at the fair.  Though to be fair, we knew this going in...but in any case, of the three, two were sister CHRISTIAN schools, sharing the same administration.  Unfortunately for us, the school we really had our eyes on didn't grant us an interview because we didn't have the number of years of experience they required.  Seeing how it is a reputable, well established school, Mr. L and I can see how they can afford to be more discriminating in their selections.  Fair.  So off we went to visit the headmaster for the other school to take our chances there.

The entire interview request session was riddled with awkwardness and confusion.  There were 4 representatives from the school with various different titles, so Mr. L and I weren't quite sure who to speak/leave our resume package with.  In any case, after some awkwardly met gazes, we sat down arbitrarily in front of one representative and pled our case.  As it turns out, we were talking to the wrong person.  No worries - the headmaster was sitting right next to the guy we were talking to.  I suppose he heard me say that I'm seeking the HS Bio position and tuned in...no matter.  Anyhow, he grabbed the resume packages and silently leafed through them.  Then he turns to Mr. L and carries on a conversation about how my Biology teachable is very desirable...Mr. L's English teachable mmmm not so much, but considering we are a package deal, they will make it work.  So...it's a Biology teacher they want...as in...me...and yet...all the comments were directed to Mr. L...with not even the slightest attempt to make eye contact with me and at least acknowledge my presence.  He offered us an interview though he spoke to us as though we had the positions for certain saying such things as: "We're building a third school right now.  When that's finished you guys can choose to teach there also."  Great!  He likes us...or more precisely, he likes me for my qualifications, and Mr. L for his gender.  Regardless, we were offered an interview for the next morning at 10am.  Then the headmaster decides to take the conversation on a little detour.

"I don't mean to put your personal lives on the spot...but...are you eventually going to get married?"

He very bluntly told us that we cannot live together as a non-married couple.  His school teaches strict Christian BIBLICAL values and he felt that it is important that he makes this known explicitly to us.  Not only that, but that we also embody and exemplify these values ourselves.  We appreciated his honesty...and I hope he appreciated ours.  We called to cancel our interview when morning came.  And so, our fornication continues - contract breachment free.

For those who have read this and are convinced that we made our decision solely on the basis of sex...and in consequence...are judging us...clearly you are going through a dry spell.  I hear plenty of fish is highly successful in one-nighter hookups.  all jokes aside - give us the benefit of the doubt.  I assure you we are not as superficial as I have made us out to be.  

On a different note, I've fallen back in love with Kingston.  I haven't been back to that magically quaint town since my high school days, but as soon as we drove into town, all the warm, fuzzy, nostalgic feelings came flooding back.  Strange considering I've only lived there for a week.  Regardless, I feel oddly at home there and Mr. L is definitely on the same page.  Now...all that's left is for me to sell the idea of living in Kingston to my best friend and husband...results will be posted shortly.

What do we want? DEMOCRACY!

WHEN DO WE WANT IT?

"Uh....sometime in the near future would be appreciated.  But if not...I suppose that's alright too...but we'd really appreciate the consideration."












Oh Canadian protests.  How civil and organized they are!  I still cannot get over the directives of the rally organizer.  In true Canadian spirit, he outlined the rally route then asked if the people at the back could kindly turn and follow the drummers - so you know, to avoid any confusion of sorts.  But hey, I truly admired this orderly conduct!  I thought it was a well orchestrated peaceful attempt to show some Canadian solidarity - for a change.

Despite my participation in this protest, I am ashamed to say that I am not one to actively (nor regularly) practice my civic duties.  I have often left my voting card in my mailbox, turned the channel when any political debates were aired, and often relied on hearsay news to get the down-low on parliamentary shindigs.  I have often felt the need to be more of an activist, but as we all know, our personal lives have a tendency of suckering us into this oblivion of anything beyond our immediate surroundings...thus despite my desire to be more...engaged in all things political...I have found myself isolated from the proceedings of our parliamentary system.  However, my immediate surroundings have recently been infiltrated by politically minded activists...namely, Mr. L and his family.  Thus, I currently find myself placed in a situation where two of my objectives happen to coincide: 1) to increase my civic duty participation 2) to integrate myself to said family.

Stay tuned, as updates of said objectives will be posted intermittently.

Breathless...

...it's dawned on me that I've lived my life wishing for time to stand still just for a moment so that I can catch my breath, take a look around and enjoy the scenary.  Sadly, I'm not quite certain what all that whirlwind of activity was about.  It's as though I've been "busy" all these years chasing after something, someone, some time that doesn't exist.  Projecting my happiness to the future, I've never really appreciated what's in front of me...attributing my apathy to the lack of time to fully appreciate anything.  In hindsight, I've realized that it really wasn't a lack of time...but of ability.  My breathlessness was the only thing that reminded me that I was still here...
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then everything changed...and so, here I sit...breathless...worried that this too will fade away...that this too, shall pass, and my happiness with it.   

Youth in Revolt

So it's 1am and Mr. L and I are already in bed...ready to head on to sleep.  I'm quite certain that the majority of the twenty-something-year-olds are belligerently galavanting on the streets of Richmond (or the like), disrobed in their Friday best, perhaps in the hopes of engaging in a variety of mating rituals...we, on the other hand, opted for a more quiet affair: dinner (at home - Mr. L prepared a scrumptious pork chop and rice number) and a movie.  Guess which one.


Perhaps it is because Mr. L and I are quite the square ourselves, but we really enjoyed this movie - perhaps even identified with it?  Even for those of you, who are of the "cooler" variety, I'm confident in saying that it is a film that will grab a few chuckles out of you.  T'was a light movie but filled with witty script written with literary poise, and it was refreshing to sit through an amusing 1.5 hours that was more than just teens being idiots.  If for nothing else, watch it for the script.  Mr. L approves also...and he is more pretentious than I.  


I've somehow just got suckered trying to read over Mr. L's shoulder...with my poor, bi-focal needing vision, I am not succeeding.  Yes. A square indeed.


On that note, good day.

Operation "cram-in-nooks"

Mr. L landed safely yesterday morning and I was extremely happy to be reunited with my charming (though disheveled at the time...) partner in crime.  I was all the more excited because his flight was delayed and I waited a good two hours in Terminal 3...alone...sleep deprived (ah yes, I forgot to mention that my procrastination on packing cost me my precious sleep. curses!) and growing hungrier with each passing minute.

Oh!  I should mention.  Somewhere...out there...there is a photo floating around of me, sitting in terminal 3 arrivals at Pearsons, looking incredibly confused.  "Why's that?" You may ask...well see, I was hurriedly taking a picture of the arrival flight status display (hurriedly because I was worried I"d get tackled for my "reconnaissance" work)when I heard a camera shutter go off from behind me.  I turned towards the direction of the sound and I was met by a sly gaze of a girl, also waiting alone.  "What the deuce?!?" I thought "Did she just take a picture of me??"  As I was in mid-thought, she did it AGAIN!!  And again I was met with the sly look!  I was partly flattered, but mostly creeped out.  Unless she took the photo of me because I looked doped out (recall no sleep previous night)...or some other less attractive reason...in which case...not creeped out but ired!  How dare she either way.

In any case...moving on.

The move last night went quite smoothly.  Had to take two cars because apparently, despite all that triaging, I still have quite a lot belongings...which were further reduced when I got downtown and realized; we have no space.  However, we trimmed down on much of our clothing and found every nook and cranny to cram our belongings into.  All in all, I'd have to call our operation a great success and Mr.  and Ms. L are now officially roommates - literally.

Where will life take us next?

Moving on...

January 1, 2010: when the deuce did that creep up on us? I blinked and 2009 was over. And now, here I sit with my Mac on my lap, sipping my coffee, creating yet another blog which may or may not stand the test of time.

In any case, lets move along...

Speaking of moving...whatdoyaknow! Ms. L's first adventure of 2010! Yesiree! Ms. L is moving on to bigger and better things. Well technically, I'm sizing down...significantly...but lets just roll with the popular phrase. The big day? Tomorrow. Am I ready? Not a chance.

Current Progress Status:

• two suitcases full of clothes;
• a duffle bag of text books/teaching resources;
• a pile of clothes waiting - patiently - to be packed up on my bed;
• an army of flats/boots/sandals/heels awaiting orders;
• a closet stuffed with coats/jackets/blazers that need to be packed;
• a bookcase full of literary gems waiting - patiently - to be triaged (limited space in our home prevents me from taking them all - curses!);
• a case full of documents waiting - patiently - to be shredded or packed away

Perchance I should get a move on this moving business though...t'is already 6:40 pm and I must call it an early night since I am to pick up Mr. L from the airport tomorrow morning. Perhaps "pick up" is inaccurate. As my dear friend Unitb612 points out, you can't "pick up" someone via public transit. So let me rephrase: I must meet Mr. L at the airport tomorrow morning, then together trek home in true Plebeian form.

So, this concludes my first post of (hopefully) many. Although I am sporadic and inconsistent in my writing (I'd also like to attribute any typographical errors to literary style...yes...style...), I hope some will find some amusement in my rambles...if not...then stop reading! Geez~ who invited you anyhow?

On that note...adieu.