Someone I know (I can’t say who) is embroiled in a very interesting email exchange (I can’t say about what). Now I happen to know this someone’s email and password so I could, theoretically, peek in every now and again and check out how things are going.

He/she (as in ‘he or she’ not ‘he who is also a she’) probably wouldn’t mind but I don’t want to ask just in case it makes him/her uncomfortable.

And I can’t morally peek without telling cause that would be wrong. I mean I probably wouldn’t like it if someone did that to me. Unless of course I didn’t know. Then I wouldn’t care. Or rather I couldn’t care cause I wouldn’t know. But if I found out I might care. Or I might not. I really don’t know.
anyhow…

It’s killing me.

It’s like waiting for an email about an impending job - except that the best I can hope for is a summarized account every once in a while. One of those overviews which you just know leaves out all the juicy details. Somehow it’s just so much less gratifying that way.

So instead of sitting in front of the computer all day fighting the urge to check someone else’s email, I am going to have to get a life of my own.

But…groann, it’s so much more effort.

Given how dull work has been over the past couple of weeks, I have spent my bike rides / walks to and from work dreaming about what I really want to do.

Unfortunately I don’t think that my dream job is all that original so I don’t know if it makes for a good blog post but if I don’t blog about this I will blog about my stuffy nose and scratchy throat and nobody wants that.

So, after having spent the past years in two different big and impersonal international organizations writing papers that no one will read and drafting projects that will never really make a difference I want to get my hands dirty.

Well not, ‘digging latrines’ dirty, but ‘talking to real people who actually need help rather than spending my entire time with equally disconnected international civil servants’ dirty.

In short, I want to work for a charity that actually makes a difference. Ideally I would like to work (or start) a charity to support orphanages in developing countries. I would like to make the orphanages more liveable and, as horrible as it sounds, help make the orphans more adoptable.

Anyway, that’s my dream and I’ve decided that if I still feel the same way when I’m 40 and it Bert and I are sufficiently financially secure, I will give it a go.

Until then, if anyone ever wants to wean themselves off sleeping pills, I have some great papers that I can ship on out.

I want the force!

Not necessarily the throw giant objects around a room force - there’s really not much use for that in my line of work - but the mind control force.

I can just imagine sitting in a meeting and projecting across to the very dull presentor ‘you will skip this slide’?

‘I will skip this slide’ - he would say, again and again compressing an hour long presentation into ten minutes.

The thought of it gives my goosebumps, literally (if I had a camera I could prove it).

I’d need an all-bands projection function as well for the inevitable ‘are there any questions?’ One quick blanket use of the force and the entire room would speak up in unison

‘We do not have any questions’

And off I’d go to have my morning tea and cookies with plenty of time to spare before having to really get back to work.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving everyone - yeah I know it seems early but it’s colder up here and we have to bring in the harvest before the end of November - at which point all the poor veggies and stuff would be under a foot or two of snow.
Of course when I say we I mean the farmers, not me.

I pick berries sometimes, and I even picked peas once, but I’m no farmer. Take my still cauliflower-less cauliflower. Someone from work advised that I’m not getting any cauliflower cause I haven’t added ‘the shit’. By which he literally meant ’shit’. Anyhow, no califlower seems like a fair price for maintaining a shitless back yard.
So in the great tradition of cheesy moments, I am going to take this opportunity to review those things that I am most thankfull for (other than my shitless backyard that is).

I am thankful that I have an amazing husband and a relatively well-behaved dog.

I am thankful that I don’t have triplets.

I am thankful that I am healthy (except for this weird hip thing, and an aching knee when the weather gets cold - geez I’m getting old).

I am thankful that the Banana Republic will be opening downtown soon.

I am thankful that I have a good job that justifies (almost) the purchase of Banana Republic clothes.

Most of all I am thankful that I was able to share the past year with great friends and loving family.

Ok so I found out yesterday afternoon that I have a work nickname. And to make matters worse (I think) it’s not even a nickname that people in the office (who have been working with me for months) have given me. It’s a nickname that has been given to me by people with whom I only spent a couple of days when I was on my business trip in Europe.

And I don’t know what this stupid nickname is!

I know it’s funny because my boss was actually giggling when he told me I had a nickname. I know it’s not complimentary because he wouldn’t tell me what it is because he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. I know that at least two division heads and three people around my level are using it to talk about me when I’m not around (I hate that).

What worries me the most is the fact that I obviously have one incredibly strong characteristic that is blatently obvious to all these people. But it’s not at all obvious to me.

How can I enjoy my three day weekend when all I can worry about is my stupid nickname?