Squirrel vs. Bike. Again.

I'm pretty sure I hit a squirrel the other day. If by "pretty sure" you mean "absolutely certain." All I know is that my bicycle and a squirrel occupied the same space for an instant. I squealed. The squirrel may have, too. But when I looked back at the path, the unfortunate rodent had scurried into the woods. So... Sorry, squirrel. I felt fairly sick afterwards. I really hope that it wasn't too damaged. And based on my past encounters, it seems that I'm lucky that neither I nor my bike were damaged. Now I'm all squirrel-anoid. When I hear the unmistakable rustling in the undergrowth, I imagine it's all its little squirrel buddies, chattering to each other: "That's the one that got Chuck. Let's get her!" And I'm always watching for the little fuckers to jump out in front of me.

It's good to know that I am not alone.

Goal #25: Get a snowboard

I decided that August is clearly the best time to buy winter sports equipment. All the new-year gear is arriving at stores, and they've got to get rid of last year's models. So, on a recent jaunt to Vermont, J--- and I decided to hit up the ski shops in search of crazy deals. We shopped around, chatted with "the kids" in the shops (it's all downhill from here, folks -- for the first time ever I felt way older than the shopkids, instead of feeling like a peer. Although, one of them did call my sunglasses "rad" so I guess I'm still, y'know, rad.) and ended up getting some quality, brand-name secondhand boards and bindings, and brand-new boots, for less than the cost of a new board. Sweet.

Doubly sweet was that the gear was heavily subsidized by the Best In-Laws Ever!!! I am pleased with myself for accomplishing a financially based goal without actually having to shell out on the financial end. That's what I get for being the Best Daughter In-Law Ever.

Hey, I made peach crumble for a dinner party.

It's really good peach crumble.

Goal #91: Leave IATSE

I almost forgot about this one!
Here's the background: I worked my butt off to get into the union. I mean, I worked HARD. It was like bootcamp, but in the end I don't have the skills to kill a rival assassin with a dishtowel or a hardcover book. Instead, I got to pay the union even more money. I was a little pissed off that after a year and a half of slugging it out for minimum wage, my "upgrade" fee was over a thousand bones. I had to cash out part of my union-sponsored group RRSP in order to pay it. And, of course, my quarterly dues went up substantially. But it was worth it--when I was working. When I was stressing about my next gig and my next paycheck, it all seemed a little useless.
When I finally decided to change careers (like, I got a new job, with a regular paycheck), I naturally stopped paying my union dues, and I sent my local chapter of IATSE a letter telling them kindly and professionally that I wanted to leave, or rescind my membership, give up my privileges or whatever. Although I hadn't worked a union gig in over a year, they responded by telling me that in order to "honourably withdraw", I had to pay my outstanding fees. Um... No. Dishonourably discharge me then, I thought. I kept getting requests to pay my dues, and I was on the verge of calling on Ken the Axe, my buddy and labour-negotiator extraordinaire, when I finally got their version of a "final notice" letter, letting me know that I would soon be suspended for non-payment of dues. It's a crummy way to end things, especially since I tried to do it properly. But if neglect is the only thing that will let me reach my goals, so be it.
I'm out!
I think.

Goal # 83: Make a Strong Development Plan at Work.

Since I'm all about having goals these days, the fact that the company I work for strongly encourages us all to create a plan for our own professional development, and then helps us to accomplish this self-driven plan, really appeals to me. I wanted to create a strong one in order to fully take advantage of the corporate resources being offered to me, and also to generate some excitement about my own career. It would be all too easy to float along here, stress-free in my cubicle, just doing what I need to get by. And frankly, that's not good enough. I used to be really ambitious. I'm trying to reignite that ambition by exploring where my career could go, and quashing my insecurities by actively seeking to improve my skills. Adding a little fiber to the ol' resume, as it were.
So, I handed in my Personal Development Plan today, and I think it's a good one.

Napping is the New Smoking

I am a good employee. I am smart (yes, thank you), conscientious, and loyal. I have a fabulous work ethic. And yet, sometimes I take a nap at work.
This confession has been met with everything from dismay to disbelief. How could I? How dare I fall asleep in my workplace? I never really had an issue with it, but the extremity of some people's reactions made me feel as though I ought to defend my napping practices.
In my old career, napping was nearly a daily ritual. Sure, the days were one heck of a lot longer (two to three times, in fact) so it seemed completely justified, and we usually all had a shelf in the back of the camera truck to curl up on. It's interesting to bed down with your co-workers, like a mini sleepover in small, uncomfortable bunk beds. Or if it was summer time and you were on location, you could grab a patch of sunny grass. And if you were in a location or set that had actual beds, all you had to do was beat the Grips to it! Nice.
After the big career switch, at first the newness of having a sedentary job plus the overwhelming quiet prevalent in my department combined to make a lethal inducement to passing out in front of my computer. I would find myself suddenly jolting awake, one hand still loosely clutching the mouse, wondering how long I'd been out and if my cubicle neighbours had heard any snoring in the interim. For a while I was even worried that I might be becoming a narcoleptic, since I found it impossible to resist succumbing to those moments of unconsciousness. Now, I'm more accepting of my own need to nap.

Here's the thing -- it doesn't make me a bad employee. Seriously, it really doesn't. Consider this: I don't smoke. Long has "I don't smoke" been my battle cry that excuses many other vices. After all, is there anything that you do voluntarily that is worse for you than smoking? Nope. So what if I drink too much and eat crap? I don't smoke. I didn't exercise all winter? Yeah, but I don't smoke. However, in this instance, it is actually a valid comparison. Think about smokers at work. They've got to get up from their desks, make their way downstairs and outside, smoke a cigarette, chat a bit with the other smokers, and then make their way back to their desks and resume their work. Let's say all this takes an average of 15 minutes. I don't even know how long it takes to actually smoke a cigarette, but I think my guess is probably even on the skinny side. And they do this at least twice, probably more, times a day. That's a minimum of 30 minutes spent not working, and possibly up to an hour.
So if I need a little 20 minute shut-eye in the middle of the day, well, excuse me for not feeling guilty about it. Plus, I don't smell disgusting when I'm done. And yet napping is frowned upon, where smoke breaks are still accepted. Really, which one should we encourage? The unhealthy habit or the healthy one?
If I need a little break, I don't want to have to pretend to be a smoker, the way I did in high school. I would like to advocate a new openness about napping at work. It's healthy! It increases productivity! The Europeans have it right, shutting down for siesta right around the time your body (and mind) is craving a little rest.
Let's turn out the lights, grab a cozy sweater and lean back in our ergonomic chairs.
Let the computer go to screen saver.
Take a few deep breaths.

Wake up feeling sooo much better.

Excuse me, it's time for my afternoon nap.

Restaurant Review: Smalltalk

Smalltalk, 1580 Bayview Ave.

While Toronto's Summerlicious event seems to be a good way to experience higher-end restaurants for a reasonable price, I worry that at smaller, more neighbourhood-oriented venues, you end up getting a crummy deal and substandard food. Sometimes, your very participation in an event that has brought you to a new restaurant, one that could thereafter become a favourite or a regular haunt, causes the staff to treat you as second-class customers. This is a really dumb business practice.
That being said, when we went to Smalltalk, we had the option to dine either from the regular a la carte menu, or to use the Summerlicious prix-fixe selections. We all went for the Summerlicious deal. I'm not sure if that was the cause of what was to come, but it wasn't good.
Smalltalk looks like a cute, neighbourhood place, and I was excited to try it. Until I noticed that the banquettes were stained and dirty, and the pencil drawings on the walls were amateurish and clearly copied from photographs (I have a thing about bad art in restaurants). It was also Arctic icy inside. Due to rain, sitting outside on the attractive patio was not an option, so I just shivered through dinner.
Plus: Everyone enjoyed their fancy, fruity martinis.
Minus: The promised amuse-bouche arrived after the appetizers. Like a palate cleanser? Um, no...just in the wrong spot. It was a tasty confection of sun-dried tomato, herbs and a creamy cheese mousse, but was rather irrelevant by the time we got it.
Plus: The basket of bread arrived warm and was very delicious. Spiced and herbed olive oil was nice for dipping.
Down to serious business: The appetizers were pretty good. Caramelized onion and goat cheese on salad (although from the description in the menu you never would have known it came on salad) was tasty. The Summerlicious portion size was a great deal smaller than the regular menu size, but smaller was better. It would have been an overwhelming amount of spring mix lettuce otherwise. The spicy Malaysian red lentil soup was robust and flavourful, although the promised accompanying chicken dumplings turned out to be a single cardboard-textured, dried out little bit lurking at the bottom of the bowl. For mains, the Guinness braised short ribs were in a yummy sauce, although the ribs were a little unnecessarily fatty; garlic mashed potatoes are hard to screw up, but the roasted root vegetables seemed like space food--as though they had just been rehydrated before plating. Herbed, seared grouper was dry and overcooked. Accompanying vegetables were cold. As was I.
We were desperately looking for some salvation in desert, but the double lemon tart was too sweet, completely lacking the nice tart-sweet contrast that you crave in a lemon desert, and was on heavy, doughy pastry.
It was a disappointing experience since I'd had high hopes, but unfortunately the misses outweighed the few hits.

rating: * (Wouldn't go back, wouldn't recommend it)