megfowler.com

Sunny!

Rainy!

Sunny/rainy!

Snow!

Hail!

Wait, no! HEAT WAVE.

Oh, crap. Rain.

It’s 3 degrees!

Two hours later: 31!

Vancouver weather is known for being consistently rainy, but that’s only a small portion of the story. No, we get all the other kinds of weather, too… we just like to fit them all into the SPAN OF A SINGLE DAY.

For Pete’s sakes.

So, in order to make myself feel better about the fact that I somehow needed both sunglasses and an umbrella on the way to work today, a small list:

TEN THINGS THAT ARE MORE UNPREDICTABLE THAN VANCOUVER WEATHER

1. Paris Hilton’s jail sentence
2. Ted Haggard’s sexual bent
3. The amount of children in Brad and Angelina’s family from day to day
4. Olympic figure skating judges
5. Britney’s ability to wear undergarments after 6 pm
6. Radio formats in Vancouver
7. Tom Cruise’s ability to sit on a couch
8. Jewel’s voice
9. The temperature of McDonalds’ fries
10. The Canucks’ defense

1. What does your mother call you?

2. What do your friends call you?

3. What does your parole officer call you? And how often does he call, anyway?

4. Do you have any pets?

5. Do your pets sleep with you?

6. Do your pets… erm… sleep with you?

7. Do you live with your parents?

8. Do you hate your parents?

9. Do you write about how much you hate them all over your arms with a Sharpie?

10. Do you live in any imaginary worlds, either in your head or online?

11. Have you been married in any imaginary worlds?

12. Have you been involved in any imaginary polygamist relationships?

13. Have you ever considered starting your own religion so you could have real polygamist relationships?

14. Do you believe you are a god?

15. If so, do you speak of yourself in the third person?

16. Are you into public nudity?

17. Did you just misread the word “public”?

18. Are you on MySpace?

20. If yes, are you a teenager, a pervert or an undercover police officer? Please choose one:

21. Do you live on a “compound” of any kind?

22. Do you own more than, say, eight guns?

23. Do you keep them loaded?

24. Do you use them when YOU’RE loaded?

25. Speaking of loaded, do you think the world needs more romantic comedies?

26. Do you pretend you’re in a romantic comedy now and then?

27. Do you pretend you’re Meg Ryan?

28. Are you Meg Ryan?

29. Do you dream of having a naked polygamist relationship with Meg Ryan and your pets on your compound?

30. If you answered yes to the above, what is your estimated date of prison release?

I’ll be honest with you, chickens.

This girl is tired.

And when this girl gets tired, (which she really should be more often, given that she barely sleeps, yet spends her days fidgeting and futzing about like a wind up toy… but the caffeine! oh the caffeine makes us a real girl! a real girl!) she loses track of what she means to say.

This turns every blog post I write into one of the following three things:

a) Mental tapioca
b) Mental Ikea Playroom Balls
c) Mental cord tangles behind the television set

You think that sounds good, but what I really mean is:

a) Mushy
b) Random
c) Chaotic

And while those may be the three most accurate descriptors EVER for me as an individual, I’d rather my blog not be quite so… like that.

SO.

SOMETHING ELSE FOR A MOMENT!

QUESTIONS!

Do you have any? Any at all?

About me?

About anything?

About what’s on my iPod?

About my favourite cheeses?

Be specific.

I pledge to answer them as best I can if you leave them in the comments of this post.

GO!

1. Dreamweaver — Gary Wright
2. Give It To You — Jordan Knight
3. It Takes Two — Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock
4. Somebody To Love — Jefferson Airplane
5. Theme Song from The Greatest American Hero
6. I’d Really Love to See You Tonight — England Dan and John Ford Coley
7. Hands — Jewel
8. Black Velvet – Alannah Myles
9. Danger Zone — Kenny Loggins
10. Miami – Will Smith

Seriously.

1. Song stuck in your head? Disturbed that said tune is by the Pussycat Dolls? Well, it’s no match for this. That’s right. You have my permission to get down.

2. That word on the tip of your tongue that you can’t find? Don’t worry! It’s “obfuscate.”

3. That person you went to elementary school with but WHAT WAS THEIR NAME? It’s Tyson. And yes, his head really was that big.

4. Person on the bus/train keeps brushing against you with their bag in such a way that you think someone is repeatedly touching your ass? Just imagine that it’s Ryan Reynolds. Or Jessica Alba. Or someone that you might not want to have a long, meaningful conversation with but DAAAAMN. Brush away.

5. Computer keeps crashing? Oh, okay.

6. Long lineup in the grocery store, and you’re in a huge hurry but you have 16 items, and the express line says 15 or less? Just tuck one of the items into the magazine rack until you’re just about to pay and then go, “Oh! And one of these.” BAM! NO ONE EVEN SAW IT COMING.

7. Huge clog in traffic? Well, just get someone with a giant foot to move it. (Get it? Clog? Sorry. I laughed really hard and I don’t know why.)

You’re welcome.

People ask me all the time what I’m planning to write about next.

And unless we’re speaking of the writing I do for work, I really couldn’t tell you.

Not because I wouldn’t tell you, mind you.

I just don’t have a clue.

I sit down at a keyboard, and whatever needs to come out, comes out.

Or it doesn’t. Then I scowl and proceed on to Facebook.

Occasionally, I do come up with a blog idea and mull it over for a couple of days. I might even mention it to people, at which point they offer me suggestions as to how I could make the idea better or more interesting.

Then said idea dies on the vine, overbloomed by the sunshine of their insistence that I include a story about that thing we did at the lake once. With the inner tube? Yeah. That was funny.

Most people like the idea of me writing about them.

Most people are curious to see what I’d say, given only their name as a topic.

But it’s pretty hard to just write about a person. You need a reason to write about them, or an anecdote of some kind, and even then, does anyone but the two of us care?

Only if I’m dating them.

More than anything else I could possibly write about, I’d say that’s what a good half of you hope to find here each day.

Will today be the day she writes about a boy?

About the love of her life?

About finding romance in a crowded elevator or city bus or some other scenario straight out of a deodorant advertisement?

Or will she just write about coffee again?

Yep.

Sorry.

Quad Venti nonfat latte.

Not the love of my life, per se, but damn… lookin’ good in that cup there, buddy.

… lie in bed at night wondering just exactly how you got, well… there?

Not how you found your way to bed, or the exact details of moving into your home, or the process that led you to your city.

No, no.

You wonder about all the events and choices and reactions and fears that have put you smack dab into the middle of your own life.

(Then again, you might not wonder at all. Maybe you’re one of those people that falls asleep the second your head hits the pillow. You aren’t a “worrier.” You just “live in the moment.”

Both of which, by the way, are phrases that drive us neurotic types nuts.)

Sometimes I wonder where my confidence goes when I want something for my future, but don’t have the courage to pursue it.

Sometimes I wonder where this body came from, when I started out as a skinny little kid who loved to run.

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up single at 33, when I have always wanted a marriage and a family.

Sometimes I wonder what gifts and talents I am supposed to be using to drag me out of this restless, frustrated state.

And sometimes I get sick of wondering.

I want to believe that there is so much more to me than this.

That I am capable of anything.

That there is no such thing as too far gone.

That these scars will fade.

That someone will love me in spite of all my quirks and mistakes and flaws and stretch marks and veins and ecchhh…

That a day will come when I’m not lying here wondering how a million different bends in the road took me to the fork I’m at now.

It’s exhausting to look at the magnitude of the moves I need to make. It’s exhausting to know that anything I undertake is going to take so much work and effort that at times… well, it just won’t seem worth it.

And it’s especially exhausting to take in all the advice and counsel and admonitions people give me about where and how to get started, and what’s wrong with me, and what I need to try, and what I should have done differently all along.

But for all the exhaustion? Still wide awake and worrying.

I guess it’s the only thing that will eventually make me crazy enough to change, instead of just crazy enough to sit here and let my failures consume me.

If you’ve been reading my blog for very long, you know that I have a great father. A father I love. A father who sets a standard in my life.

Also? He has nice socks.

I’ve written about him quite a bit. Here are some examples:

He takes nice pictures. Oh, and here.

He’s a savvy shopper.

He uses modern forms of communication. Oh, and here.

He’s the best dad ever.

My family has never been overinvolved in holidays or occasions beyond Christmas (that’s when we go bajiggity.) I mean, we do birthdays, we do Mother’s and Father’s days, but they’re not the be-all, end-all of our efforts to appreciate one another.

We appreciate one another randomly. In random ways. As it comes up.

We’re random like that.

You know?

But since I have a blog, and since y’all are listening:

I love my dad more than I can express to you, or to him.

He has given me a solid understanding of so many things that I can’t count them all.

Even when we disagree about stuff, he extends me grace and does his best not to go, “WHAT??”

He is devoted, wise, gracious, funny, loving and cool.

So Happy Father’s Day, Father.

Kudos.

Whew. Happy weekend.