Hot People See the Light

The last few days have been kind of a life clean-up in the aftermath of my major projects for the spring season. January to the end of May have been a series one-thing-after-another in both work and life. When I was in university, this after-the-crazy-subsides time was usually followed by a few weeks of listless depression and total lack of motivation in finding a summer job.

Well...the job keeps going (although, some days I wonder; I often take bets on Thursday for how many people booked on Friday will actually show up), so that's one problem solved. But last year, the sads had definitely set in around this time. So far this year, it hasn't happened.

So what's different?

Well...I think an obvious answer is the fact that I'm pretty comfortably attached right now. My lack of attachment was a source of major concern for me just about a year ago. But...a year ago, I kinda thought I was attached. Plus I really don't feel like it would be truthful to say that my lack of sads is entirely dependent on my being in a comfortable relationship. But it certainly helps.

No, I think that despite the fact that I've not been to the gym in an innumerable quantity of days, and despite the fact that I've not seriously worn makeup on a regular basis since...well, ever (how do people do it? I JUST DON'T HAVE TIME EVERY MORNING), I just feel more comfortable in my skin. When I first started this blog, I didn't know who I was. Without that knowledge, I couldn't really settle comfortably on anything or anyone. And I'm pretty sure that's where the sads came from. In the last year, I've found things I'm comfortable doing, and people I'm comfortable doing them with. It's awesome.

It's so awesome, I'm even doing a few things I'm not totally comfortable with. I played softball for the first time last week since I was in junior high. It went...well, about as well as softball did WHEN I was in junior high. So...pretty poorly. BUT, despite a little bit of pre-game anxiety, I always had in the back of my mind that the people I was playing with weren't hanging out with me because of my baseball skills but because they kinda want to hang out with me. And for the first time in my life, I don't doubt this (all the time).

Sure, I still have (many) moments of personality anxiety. And sometimes they're hilarious. And don't worry - you'll still get a full report of those activities. So stay tuned, kids.

***In other news, though I haven't learned to play guitar or be ab-tastic, I did have a counselling session with a client the other day almost entirely in (not entirely grammatically correct) French. Hurray me!

Hot People Move (or, How I Spent My Summer Vacation): Part 3, Bike

As I'm sure any faithful reader has gathered, I like to cycle, and despite being in the hilly Canadian Shield, I'm finding these hills much more manageable than the ones in New Brunswick that begin at sea level. Again, make no mistake. I am not a "cyclist" (except, of course, when it makes me seem extra heroic or athletic to say so). I don't own any fancy shorts or spandex tops. I can't cycle 100km/d ad nauseom and I don't have one of those super hero-shaped helmets. Mostly, again, I like to go fast...usually downhill, because it's less work that way.

Cycling around here also comes with lots of scenery, and wildlife...especially if you don't mind seeing two-dimensional chipmunks and rabbits (helpfully flattened by the tire of a local F150), with occasional partial internal anatomy, or Jackson Pollock-esque renderings of leopard frogs. Sorry. That was gross.

Anyway, I've been cycling a lot here, training for my 20km commute to work this fall (yay bike paths!) and attempting to undo all the dessert-eating I've been doing with my grandmother. My greatest feat thus far has been a 37km loop. Hardcore cyclists (such as those I allude to in my illustration of the sort of cyclist I am not) will scoff at that, but it's my longest ride to date and I'm proud of it (so nyeah).

It was, however, not without incident. The trip started with some pretty, and familiar scenery. However, just before I turned into new territory, I heard a loud and unfamiliar sound. I soon realized I was being chased by three (rather angry sounding) unleashed dogs who appeared to believe that my ankles looked like they might be tasty. I had to ride for my life, and I outrode them! When I was sure I was not going to be eaten by a pack of rabid dogs (three's a pack, right?), I stopped for a rest and admired this cabbage patch.

I soon turned again into even less familiar territory, at which point the pavement ended. The dirt road that followed seemed to be covered with looser and looser sand...to the point where I amused myself with the notion that I was riding through the Guinness World Record holder for longest outdoor sandbox. Seriously, you could have made some sweet castles with that shit. My amusement was also tempered with the fear that at any moment I would be met by an Ed Gein or Michael Myers lookalike, brandishing a chainsaw, who would drag me to some cabin in the middle of the forest to carry out some sinister and unspeakable deeds on my person. Houses on this road, you see, were few and far between, so only the trees would be able to hear my scream (and, presumably, the rabbits, chipmunks and frogs not yet dispatched by the tire of a pick-up).

Fortunately, I emerged from the forest unscathed to the intersection of Rockingham (I say intersection rather than village or community because it consists of a stop sign and an historic church) From there I continued my thereafter mostly uphill battle (which I gave up on the last leg of the UP). While the view at the top suggested I'd reached lofty heights, the ensuing downhill, though fast, was not as satisfying as I'd hoped, and when I'd reached the last intersection of my trip, (upon which a stand of red pine once stood, until obliterated by the great tornado of aught-seven), my legs were more or less ready to fall off, despite (or perhaps because of) their knowledge that there were only five more or less flat kilometres to go.

Anyway, I reached home with the knowledge that this feat was also achieved...and it feels pretty good to have been a country girl driving on the 401 through Toronto without fear, and to have sailed my grandmother's Laser without falling out or getting stuck in a reef, and to have taken my longest bike-ride ever despite the (real) threat of hungry dogs and the (imagined) threat of chainsaw-wielding homicidal maniacs.

My return to a city (an unfamiliar one) is impending, and if my quest for hotness (I achieved some goals, right? Hot people do that...) seems to be going too successfully, I am sure my new habitat will provide me with plenty of opportunity for blunders and mishaps on the road to being hot. Fear not.