Two apples a day keep the doctors far away...

This Friday will be the last day I wake before the hour of 8am, wear heels and slit envelopes with a smile on my face. No more of that. I suppose in a few weeks I will return to waking before 8am as my school routine takes its toll. Regardless, the end of this summer office job is in site, and 4:30pm on Friday afternoon will bear my march of glee down the elevators, out the doors and onto my free spirit. Ahhh, fall is upon us.

This summer has been one of many novelties. New husband, new home, new car, new job. This job, new this summer, has also been new in other summers. Three times the charm is my motto, and back again I was for one more round of Master Anglers, good mornings until 12 and good afternoons until 4:30. Everyday I open the doors, turn on the lights and deliver the newspaper; The Sun and Free Press to the lunch room, the Globe & Mail to the President. I go to my desk, turn on my computer, take the phone off call forward, check the voicemail and remove my travel mugged coffee from my bag with haste. At 9:30 I eat one apple and at 10 I go for coffee with Betty, a lovely lady of 54. I ask her what she did last night, she says "Oh, nothing much", then she asks me and I tell her about the events that last night beheld. At 10:30 we return to our desks, I open the mail, do the Master Anglers, deliver the mail, and answer any odd phone calls that come my way. Then I come back to my desk and eat another apple. Usually at this point someone will have brought me whatever small task that they don't feel like doing that day, licking envelopes, making labels, or preparing packages. At 12 I hop on my bike and pedal as fast as my legs allow, to my sweet home for lunch. For one hour I feel like a normal human being with feelings, thoughts and things to do. It's important and I need it. At 1 I return from my blessed abode, and tend to the awaiting invoices. These are the longest hours when my only company is this screen, and the game which is to wait. I am the winner everyday. At 2 I drink a can of diet coke which is merely an action to keep me occupied so my eyes don't run their free will and fall slowly but surely to their most desired position, it works every time. At 3 I print and proof my batch of invoices, then slowly take a stroll down the hall through the office where I deliver them to the accounting clerk. The rest of the day is a blur. No coke, no invoices, only silence until 4:30. And that, dear friends, is my day and was my summer. Thankfully in between all of those things I had one companion to keep me updated on the beauties and events of the world, and discuss decisions, annoyances, and the humour of our jobs. Thanks e-lady, T-lady - you have carried me through the summer.

Now it is 11:51 and I am hungry as a duck. 9 minutes until lunch time and then I will feast.

Cheers to zombie office life that will be brought to an end in 2.5 days. Thank goodness.

xoxo V.

Inspiration

I wanted to write that in French but it's the same. It is in French and English. It is a bilingual word.

Today I feel oddly/odly (however it is that you spell that word) inspired to be me. To be the young, and wild, and free 22 year old girl that I am. I feel happy and content and largely in love with my husband, extra thankful for my friends and extra extra happy that I live in Winnipeg with everyone else who lives in Winnipeg.

Today I had lunch with my very dear friend. Tomorrow she is going to venture into untracked land (un-tracked by her) and accompany her beau to his highschool reunion. While drinking coffee at a small table for two, she confessed to feeling silly about her fresh age of 21 amidst a class of adults - 10 years post-highschool. I looked her right in the eye and said "homegirl - never be ashamed of your age." Then I repeated a line which an equally dear friend once uttered, unknown to what significance it would have to me, "Confidence is key." That is what I believe. Admittedly, there have been times when I have felt disadvantaged by my young age as I, like her, typically can be found among people that don't share this age as common ground. In the past few months I have taken very strongly to my age and dread the days of an older one. Again, I have to admit that it's not because of this key confidence that I am so bold to preach about, but more in fear that life won't be what it is now, that it will not bring flowers and kisses and giggles, as it has consistently at age 22. Regardless of the reasons, my age is one thing I hold dear to my heart and I would defend to the end. 22. That is me. That is my age.

Sometimes I confuse who I am with who I want to be. I might say, think, or write something, re-visit it and wonder, with all the honesty within me, if it were merely a wish-filled thought, or the strings of my heart. I would love to crack the code. Aside from this confusion, today I feel content about this struggle. Today I feel like the scrapes I have inside my soul are okay to have; acknowledged and free, they will be sorted in due time. In this moment and in this year, this is who I am pleased to be.

Ummm... Also this weekend will be grand. I feel it and I know it. Me and my team are going to storm the streets, the stores, the wedding and our very own living room with love and fun and I just can't wait.


xoxo forever,
V.

En route

I wouldn't say that my ride to work is a commute, no, it's more of a jaunt. I wear my work clothes while cycling, and they are far from sweaty when I arrive at the tinted glass doors on the 7th floor. 155 Carlton is a short 10 minute bike ride, at a fast pace I might add, from my door step on the 3rd floor of my lovely abode dans le village. Yesterday, in that short yet stressfull trek through the roar of rush houred drivers, the leg of my right pant got caught in the chain of my bike. I realize that wide leg pants are not the ideal outfit for riding a bike, but rolled up and ready, I thought they proved themselves fairly versatile. The quick spin on my trusty two-wheeler would turn to into a hike when I turn it in for walking shoes. The 10 minutes of travel time would turn to 25, and 25 minutes is the amount of time that would be stolen from me and my peaceful cradle. What to do, what to do...Ride those pants to shreds, take the hike, or put together a work riding outfit and change upon arrival. None are great options but one will have to suffice. Not today though, I wore a dress.

My email team abandoned ship today, designsponge is leaving a lot to be desired, my daily creeps have yet to post and Landy is not answering his phone.


Bored forever,
Vanasty.

Mountains of fun

Ah, back to work after a long weekend. Something typically not anticipated, yet this year's extra day felt longer than average. Do I have a job? When was the last time I was there? Honest thoughts scrolling through my brain on Tuesday's eve left me gratefully logging the events of the weekend, and with content I compiled a mental list of the fun that was had over the last few days: breakfast date, biking, coffee, 2 movies at the theatre, exchange district wandering, sangria, mall walking, more biking, lunch date, birthday party in the park, a movie at home, etc. Yikes. Could it get any better?

This summer has been a different experience for plenty of reasons. The weather has been sub-par to say the least, but regardless of that seemingly significant downfall, it has been one to be remembered. Friendship is at an all-time high, and love is swinging from him to her to her to him. Dates and day-trips galore, I don't feel as though this summer is passing me by with nothing to show. No, this season has brought and taken more than I imagined, and for re-assurements sake, it won't stop in September.

Also, one month until school starts. It's slightly shameful how eager I am to buy my textboks and sneak into my favorite homework location on campus. My courses are picked and my schedule is made. A planned life is a happy life in my books.


Happily yours,
Vanessa