Fact. James is back and I am glad.
Fiction. Read the "adventure's of Duddy Kravitz" for a good piece of literary fiction.
Fact. The month of May has seen an increase in shipping of 48% compared to last May.
Fiction. The notion that I will ever get off work before 7pm
Hey everyone. Work is busy, the sun is hot, the days fly by, and my summer so far has been swell. ( That word is underused, so I'm bringing it back.) The fact that James just arrived in Ontario this past Monday has allready improved my summer by a good, oh let's say 27 %. That number- be it high for some, or low for others, means absolutey nothing to me, I picked it at random. But what I'm trying to say is that there has been a marked improvement to an allready great summer which makes me excited for the next few months. Moving on.
Jersey, the golden retriever that tramples all the plants on the farm, attacked a gosling today and killed it. The mother is now in mourning. The little one is sorely missed.
The wildlife in the packing barn keeps me amused when I'm fairly bored. Each corner has a nest of different baby birds. They will be jumping out any day-- which makes me wonder, are they insane? They certainly can't fly, so what would possess them to step off a 16 foot ledge? It's a possible death sentence! ahh well- thank goodness for fluffy down.
Considering I'm talking excessively about birds, and that I just said "fluffy down" I am thinking that I have nothing too new or exciting to contribute to this update. It is also late, and I am beat. The sun has been relentlessly frying my skin. I feel like a sauteed mushroom. Eww.
Now it's really time to get to bed. Adios todos! Me gusta pato.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
Life of Pi
Prologue
This was written in an effort to vent some pent up frustration caused from work. It was not intended to be a blog- but, when my mom found it, read it, and then read it to my dad, I figured what the heck. ( At least he got a kick out of it)
Inspired by Life of Pi
Today I was attacked by a Bengal tiger. Not a deadly blow, but the sheer volume of his throaty roar turned my bones to liquid. My defiance flared, my blood simmered, and I stood. The stare returned by the beast made me balk. He was mad. I was no match against a tiger. He broke his hypnotic eyes from mine, distracted for a moment by a flying fish that had clumsily found itself caught in the crossfire between two seething creatures. I took what precious moments had been granted to me and fled to my safety raft. 25 feet of rope allowed for a 25 foot distance between me and the cat, with a double twisted knot tethering the two worlds together. Feeling the bruise where he had struck, right around my heart, I briefly considered slashing the life line that kept us uncomfortably close. The message being sent across the gap was made clear by the fixed stare and low growl of the tiger. This. Is. My. Territory. You. Listen. To. Me.
Today I was Pi Patel. Today my boss turned into a Bengal Tiger. Today was a hard day for a boss’s daughter. Tethered to the loading dock, amidst the hustle and bustle of rolling carts, surrounded by a sea of green, and always under the watchful eye of management- AKA- Bengal Tiger, the time was bound to come when territorial claims must be made, rights must be given, a voice must be heard.
The attack came unprovoked. Carts were properly assembled, we were on schedule, garbage did not abound in the work space, it was smooth sailing to 7:00. But of course, when do the big cats begin to stir? At dawn and dusk. We were pushing dusk, and the boss emerged from his lair. For the untrained eye, a quick scan of the dock’s activity would cry out chaos. Tractors buzzing in, trailers flying out, carts- endless amounts seeking safe haven through the gaping jaws of the ever hungry transport trucks- and the people. People everywhere. But to the trained eye the sight brought a surge of pride and relief- the peak of the days work was about to be reached, the winding down process was around the corner, the last stretch was beckoning…
THIS IS ALL WRONG! but the.. LISTEN! I DON’T CARE WHAT THE PAPERWORK SAYS!! Oh. why do I use it.. SHHHH!!! …..the time had come. Between my overtired, stressed, and intensity driven father I had overstepped my territory due to sheer personality. I am a smart ass. When attacked, I do not immediately step down in a reconciliatory manner. ( If I may just add, not in any means of self- praise, but as pure fact- my father WAS wrong) Accused of screwing up an entire order- and knowing the accusations to be false and unfounded, I was in no uncertain terms Pissed Off. But what can one do in the face of Richard Parker? Scream back? Certain death. Turn my back? Sudden death. Ignore his ominous presence? Against my nature. The only viable option was to stay rooted in position, clamp my mouth shut, and deal as much damage with my glare that was within my capacity. To think an ice storm on the 15th of May. I was chilled to the bone by the returned gaze. Option two would have been a bit warmer. Within seconds the ice spell was broken by the slam of the door. Parker had returned to his lair.
Small victory for Pi Patel.
Day 2.
The ice storm was proceeded by a crisp wintry gale- hardly the ideal weather for spring shipping- due undoubtedly to the spat that occurred the previous night between boss and boss’s daughter. All further encounters decidedly dropped the temperature, so they were either avoided, or kept to a bare minimum. To sum up the day in a word- Silent.
Day 3.
Pi has been reservedly perched on his life raft for 48 hours. Ample time to brew things over, sufficient time for an angry cat to calm himself. I unconsciously decided to grab ahold of the metaphorical rope that kept us distant, and over the course of 9 hours, managed to pull myself within a distance that at least allowed for communication. The breeching point came unexpededly, and I owe it all to a pigeon. He came a few days ago, a stranger in a foreign barn, and he amused me. I named him Bert. He is a steady companion. My father thus entered the barn while I was cooing at my new friend. He thought I was nuts- and absurdly I mumbled ‘ his name is Bert…’ That was it. The ice was broken. I smiled. I don’t know what made me do it. I was bent on being pissed off for at least another full day, or until said apology was made…but who has that kind of will power? Who coos at a pigeon? Case closed- we are back to being Ted and Rebecca. Undoubtedly Richard Parker will rear his terrible head again, and Pi Patel will inevitably resurrect, but for today- I’m content to just be Ree.
This was written in an effort to vent some pent up frustration caused from work. It was not intended to be a blog- but, when my mom found it, read it, and then read it to my dad, I figured what the heck. ( At least he got a kick out of it)
Inspired by Life of Pi
Today I was attacked by a Bengal tiger. Not a deadly blow, but the sheer volume of his throaty roar turned my bones to liquid. My defiance flared, my blood simmered, and I stood. The stare returned by the beast made me balk. He was mad. I was no match against a tiger. He broke his hypnotic eyes from mine, distracted for a moment by a flying fish that had clumsily found itself caught in the crossfire between two seething creatures. I took what precious moments had been granted to me and fled to my safety raft. 25 feet of rope allowed for a 25 foot distance between me and the cat, with a double twisted knot tethering the two worlds together. Feeling the bruise where he had struck, right around my heart, I briefly considered slashing the life line that kept us uncomfortably close. The message being sent across the gap was made clear by the fixed stare and low growl of the tiger. This. Is. My. Territory. You. Listen. To. Me.
Today I was Pi Patel. Today my boss turned into a Bengal Tiger. Today was a hard day for a boss’s daughter. Tethered to the loading dock, amidst the hustle and bustle of rolling carts, surrounded by a sea of green, and always under the watchful eye of management- AKA- Bengal Tiger, the time was bound to come when territorial claims must be made, rights must be given, a voice must be heard.
The attack came unprovoked. Carts were properly assembled, we were on schedule, garbage did not abound in the work space, it was smooth sailing to 7:00. But of course, when do the big cats begin to stir? At dawn and dusk. We were pushing dusk, and the boss emerged from his lair. For the untrained eye, a quick scan of the dock’s activity would cry out chaos. Tractors buzzing in, trailers flying out, carts- endless amounts seeking safe haven through the gaping jaws of the ever hungry transport trucks- and the people. People everywhere. But to the trained eye the sight brought a surge of pride and relief- the peak of the days work was about to be reached, the winding down process was around the corner, the last stretch was beckoning…
THIS IS ALL WRONG! but the.. LISTEN! I DON’T CARE WHAT THE PAPERWORK SAYS!! Oh. why do I use it.. SHHHH!!! …..the time had come. Between my overtired, stressed, and intensity driven father I had overstepped my territory due to sheer personality. I am a smart ass. When attacked, I do not immediately step down in a reconciliatory manner. ( If I may just add, not in any means of self- praise, but as pure fact- my father WAS wrong) Accused of screwing up an entire order- and knowing the accusations to be false and unfounded, I was in no uncertain terms Pissed Off. But what can one do in the face of Richard Parker? Scream back? Certain death. Turn my back? Sudden death. Ignore his ominous presence? Against my nature. The only viable option was to stay rooted in position, clamp my mouth shut, and deal as much damage with my glare that was within my capacity. To think an ice storm on the 15th of May. I was chilled to the bone by the returned gaze. Option two would have been a bit warmer. Within seconds the ice spell was broken by the slam of the door. Parker had returned to his lair.
Small victory for Pi Patel.
Day 2.
The ice storm was proceeded by a crisp wintry gale- hardly the ideal weather for spring shipping- due undoubtedly to the spat that occurred the previous night between boss and boss’s daughter. All further encounters decidedly dropped the temperature, so they were either avoided, or kept to a bare minimum. To sum up the day in a word- Silent.
Day 3.
Pi has been reservedly perched on his life raft for 48 hours. Ample time to brew things over, sufficient time for an angry cat to calm himself. I unconsciously decided to grab ahold of the metaphorical rope that kept us distant, and over the course of 9 hours, managed to pull myself within a distance that at least allowed for communication. The breeching point came unexpededly, and I owe it all to a pigeon. He came a few days ago, a stranger in a foreign barn, and he amused me. I named him Bert. He is a steady companion. My father thus entered the barn while I was cooing at my new friend. He thought I was nuts- and absurdly I mumbled ‘ his name is Bert…’ That was it. The ice was broken. I smiled. I don’t know what made me do it. I was bent on being pissed off for at least another full day, or until said apology was made…but who has that kind of will power? Who coos at a pigeon? Case closed- we are back to being Ted and Rebecca. Undoubtedly Richard Parker will rear his terrible head again, and Pi Patel will inevitably resurrect, but for today- I’m content to just be Ree.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Today
6: 36 am- woke up, woke up the boys, ate honey bunches with oats. mmmm.
6: 53 am- in the car, realize we have very little gas
6: 59 am- ran out of gas
7:01 am- ran in the rain to work
7: 09 am - got to work
7:15 am- the day begins
12:00- had "festivus" at grandmas- which has been renamed "grunch". Basically
the words grandma and lunch have been combined to create grunch- which is a delightful midweek treat thrown together by my grandma to revive our souls and fill our bellies with what she calls "a light snack" which in reality is a 3 course meal complete with cake and coffee. Glorious.
5:00 pm- much work still to be done.
7:00pm- much more work to be done
8:06 pm- the last of 800 Cedar trees are loaded onto trucks
8: 10 pm- time to head home
8: 25 pm- dinner has been lovingly prepared by my sick mother- steak, potatos, salad and fresh green beans- accompanied by a glass of white whine
8: 27 pm- I realize how incredible my mom really is.
8: 30 pm. The family sits. We eat. We talk. We bond. Michael Buble is playing in the background
9: 15 pm. We get off the table, I hit the shower.
9: 30 pm My mom has coffee and chocolates waiting in the living room.
9: 31 pm- We sit. We drink. We bond some more. I realize my mom missed us today.
10: ish.. I get on the internet, read some great blogs/ emails. I realize how much I miss my Redeemer friends- and I make/am making an attempt to keep you posted.
10:49 pm I end my blog, I say farewell. Tomorrow will be another day much like today, minus running out of gas, festivus, and working 'til 8.
10:53 pm- a more accurate time. I'm done here.
6: 36 am- woke up, woke up the boys, ate honey bunches with oats. mmmm.
6: 53 am- in the car, realize we have very little gas
6: 59 am- ran out of gas
7:01 am- ran in the rain to work
7: 09 am - got to work
7:15 am- the day begins
12:00- had "festivus" at grandmas- which has been renamed "grunch". Basically
the words grandma and lunch have been combined to create grunch- which is a delightful midweek treat thrown together by my grandma to revive our souls and fill our bellies with what she calls "a light snack" which in reality is a 3 course meal complete with cake and coffee. Glorious.
5:00 pm- much work still to be done.
7:00pm- much more work to be done
8:06 pm- the last of 800 Cedar trees are loaded onto trucks
8: 10 pm- time to head home
8: 25 pm- dinner has been lovingly prepared by my sick mother- steak, potatos, salad and fresh green beans- accompanied by a glass of white whine
8: 27 pm- I realize how incredible my mom really is.
8: 30 pm. The family sits. We eat. We talk. We bond. Michael Buble is playing in the background
9: 15 pm. We get off the table, I hit the shower.
9: 30 pm My mom has coffee and chocolates waiting in the living room.
9: 31 pm- We sit. We drink. We bond some more. I realize my mom missed us today.
10: ish.. I get on the internet, read some great blogs/ emails. I realize how much I miss my Redeemer friends- and I make/am making an attempt to keep you posted.
10:49 pm I end my blog, I say farewell. Tomorrow will be another day much like today, minus running out of gas, festivus, and working 'til 8.
10:53 pm- a more accurate time. I'm done here.
Friday, May 11, 2007
a new blog
This week was good. In fact, it was great. Although an 11 hour work day on a farm may seem mundane, I kind of like it. Waking up early ( I do that anyways)
surrounded by a core group of friends ( Vaness brought me a coffee this morning, bless her heart) singing, laughing, eavesdropping on my Mexican friends who don't realize how much I actually learned in Spanish class... ahhhh it is good to be back. I am so glad that going to work isn't a chore. I mean, how crappy would my life be if the only thing I had to look forward to was the pay cheque? A bunch of numbers on a piece of paper dictating my happiness...sounds stupid when I put it that way, but that piece of paper is what makes the world go round. On second thought.. I think that's God.
It's interesting. When I get paid, the first thing I feel is pride. Satisfaction with what I've accomplished, my achievements, and my work. An hour ago, I wouldn't have given that any thought. Who cares? I should be proud of myself. Rev. Al kind of laid it out there a little differently in this evenings prayer day service. He gave a bit of a recap over the decades of how society reacts during poverty and affluence- the general trend being that when times are bad, the church is full, and when times are good, the church is empty. Perhaps this blurs the meanings of "good" and "bad"- but you know what I mean. The point is, when we succeed 2 things happen. We praise ourselves, and we forget God.
What really gets me is that this cycle has been repeating itself for centuries. I really can't imagine being in God's situation. He gives to us, we take what He gives, often thanklessly, and then praise our own efforts. Sure, I guess I was the one who worked for the pay cheque..but then again, my ability to work is thanks to a functioning body, which I have no control over. That's God's department. I guess all I'm trying to say is that God deserves a lot more credit than I give Him, and the message tonight was a good wake up call.
Now that I got that out of my system, I just want to give a quick shout out to my Redeemer buds that as much as I love being back home, I miss you all and the crazy life on campus.
Life is good.
surrounded by a core group of friends ( Vaness brought me a coffee this morning, bless her heart) singing, laughing, eavesdropping on my Mexican friends who don't realize how much I actually learned in Spanish class... ahhhh it is good to be back. I am so glad that going to work isn't a chore. I mean, how crappy would my life be if the only thing I had to look forward to was the pay cheque? A bunch of numbers on a piece of paper dictating my happiness...sounds stupid when I put it that way, but that piece of paper is what makes the world go round. On second thought.. I think that's God.
It's interesting. When I get paid, the first thing I feel is pride. Satisfaction with what I've accomplished, my achievements, and my work. An hour ago, I wouldn't have given that any thought. Who cares? I should be proud of myself. Rev. Al kind of laid it out there a little differently in this evenings prayer day service. He gave a bit of a recap over the decades of how society reacts during poverty and affluence- the general trend being that when times are bad, the church is full, and when times are good, the church is empty. Perhaps this blurs the meanings of "good" and "bad"- but you know what I mean. The point is, when we succeed 2 things happen. We praise ourselves, and we forget God.
What really gets me is that this cycle has been repeating itself for centuries. I really can't imagine being in God's situation. He gives to us, we take what He gives, often thanklessly, and then praise our own efforts. Sure, I guess I was the one who worked for the pay cheque..but then again, my ability to work is thanks to a functioning body, which I have no control over. That's God's department. I guess all I'm trying to say is that God deserves a lot more credit than I give Him, and the message tonight was a good wake up call.
Now that I got that out of my system, I just want to give a quick shout out to my Redeemer buds that as much as I love being back home, I miss you all and the crazy life on campus.
Life is good.
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