megfowler.com

That title is just for Cat and Ashleigh, who will immediately picture a large man exiting an elevator in an orange t-shirt with a giant bouquet of flowers and an odd expression.

You can, too.

This weekend was a fun one, with a Saturday trip to the U.S. for a tiny bit of shopping. I didn’t spend much at all — just some jeans and trouser shorts from an outlet — I was down to three pairs of functioning pants! — and cheapy, dangly earrings from Forever 21. I tell you — there’s something to be said for cheap and flashy, and not just for dating profiles!

(some of my summertime favourites…)

We had lunch at Pike Place Market (yes, we saw the fish-throwers, no, we didn’t go to the Starbucks “mothership”), we saw the sights, and got (my FAVOURITE) black tea-lemonades on the way home. More importantly, we laughed ourselves senseless the entire time at all the things Ashleigh said and all the things that Cat did and I… well, I’m pretty much ridiculous, so there you go.

What we learned:

You can’t trust border lineup predictions from ANY source, including the border itself. We were through in less than 45 minutes both ways, with much higher estimates.

I have a sign over my head that says, “TALK TO ME!”

Ash and Cat have no patience for Nordstrom Rack, or anywhere “disorganized”.

I have no patience for people who stop suddenly in the middle of walkways. I want to accidentally swing my purse at them. Accidentally.

I can walk into, and walk out of a Sephora without spending a DIME.

Ashleigh enjoys a quality sandwich on quality bread.

I am a sucker for kiosk pitchmen who have totally weird approaches, apparently… but not to the point of buying. (”NOOOOOOOO!)

It is GOOD to spend time with your friends.

Which is what I did on Sunday, too, with a nice brunch out and a drive along Marine in West Vancouver, which — if you’ve never been — is God’s preferred weekend jaunt. Lovely views, winding roads, and just enough sun-dazed pedestrians to make you feel like you’re part of a game of Frogger.

So, in the light of this awesomeness, a couple questions:

1. Do you prefer your weekends to be activity-filled, or relaxing?
2. Do you sleep in (if possible)?
3. Do you dress differently/groom differently on the weekends?
4. Do you eat differently on the weekends?
4. Tell me what your ideal weekend looks like…

That’s right — ALLERGY SUFFERERS ARE THE MOST POSITIVE PEOPLE ON EARTH!

I don’t know if you have allergies… but if you don’t?

YOU ARE MISSING OUT!

Those of us with a tendency to “react” are truly a breed apart.

We can itch and drip and swell at stuff that most people don’t even NOTICE.

It’s like having a superpower, really — Captain Ultrasensitive!

So whether you develop hives when someone uses the wrong detergent or mowing the lawn causes your face to come off or you turn into a giant circle of pain when you eat oranges, I SALUTE YOU!

Allergics of the world, unite!

10 Reasons Allergy Sufferers Are The Chosen

10. Curious what that unique flavour in the sauce is? Wonder no more! It’s cilantro — just check out how my tongue turned into a pufferfish!

9. We are some of the most skilled amateur chemists in the world, combining sprays, pills, syrups, inhalers and vitamins to create a cocktail of relief. If a worldwide epidemic breaks out, we’ll be the ones to stop it… as long as it makes us itchy.

8. Yard work? Just try sending us on guilt trip when pulling weeds = certain death.

7. We’re the kind of nut-free that doesn’t get you mocked in locker rooms.

6. If scientists ever figure out how to convert mucous into fuel, we are GOLD MINES.

5. Cat missing? Just invite an allergy sufferer into your home. They’ll be back and on our lap in NO time.

4. Certain kinds of decongestants alter creativity and perception to the point where Thomas Kinkade paintings give off ACTUAL light.

3. Where you might have to refuse that weird, oozing snack your boss brought into the office at least five times in a day and risk offending them so you’ll have to “go ahead and come in on Saturday”, all we need to say is, “Oh, looks good, but my heart will stop!”

2. Leaders in the “post-moistened” wipe industry.

1. As Dr. McMahon said, “Sneezing is better than sex. It’s a mini-instant-orgasm. Not only that, but you keep your clothes on, you don’t get involved, you can do it in public, and when you’re done, perfect strangers bless you!”

Trust me… I’ve heard so many blessings, I may well be the de facto Pope.

There are many things I believe for which I have no evidence.

Most people would call these things “suppositions” or “notions” “blog posts” or “AS IF, ASSHOLE” or “tell it to my lawyer.”

To them I say, WELL FINE BUT AT LEAST I BELIEVE IN SOMETHING, YOU GODLESS LOCUST-BAITING SIN-LIVING INSTANT-COFFEE-DRINKING COSTCO-SHOPPING MCDONALDS- EATING LEPROUS HAPLESS HOPELESS HERETI…

Ahem.

Or nothing, really.

Because sometimes, as they say, it’s enough that YOU know. No one else needs to.

Do you hear me, Tom Cruise?

I believe mall kiosks are actually holes in the time-space continuum.

I believe those who remember the dances of their youth are doomed to repeat them at weddings.

I believe, while onions will always make you cry, shallots will probably only leave you mildly depressed.

I believe most people would rather that Oprah gave them a car than a book recommendation.

I believe eHarmony is nature’s way of matching up all the really fussy people so the rest of us can get on with it.

I believe chickens have neither fingers nor nuggets… but their wings are like gold.

I believe spilled milk is more of a reason to swear.

I believe bathrooms should not smell like anything you would put on or in a cake.

I believe the amount of time you spend bitching about Christmas decorations in stores is roughly inverse to the amount of fun you are at Christmas parties.

I believe civilization actually began in a Tupperware container left in a warm car.

I believe binding is for contracts and books, not bras or men.

I believe the gift of carnations is a husband’s way of saying, “Today is a good day to build a parade float, Honey.”

I believe that bottled water never forgets being free.

Yes, I promise, I’m still alive.

My lack of motivation to post has dug in about as deeply as my cough, though, which has led to the longest run of silence here since I started my blog.

Oops.

Pneumonia isn’t THAT big a deal. Really. The word freaks people out, but the reality is doable.

Although I still have it, and that’s more than a little irritating.

Anyway.

How are you? How have things been going? How are the kids? The wife/husband? Seen any good movies lately?

Right.

What have I been up to? Well. Other than hacking up a lung, I’ve been busy with work and the occasional hockey game (which I’ll be writing about later today) and doing a little bit of reorganizing/decorating/throwing massive amounts of stuff into the garbage around my house to slough a little dead weight off of my life.

I’d like to be working on the OTHER dead weight, too, but if I so much as move my arms too quickly, I’m coughing.

Charming.

But man, am I restless. Is it being sick? Is it that my birthday is coming up?

Is it that I’m CRAZY??

I’m not sure.

But enough about me. How are YOU?

1. All that personal space you wanted on the bus/elevator/sidewalk? One cough, and people scurry like mice.

2. If your loved one is considering buying one of those expensive “Ocean Sound” simulators to help them sleep, just let them put their head on your chest. Also works for “Storm Sound” and “Cement Truck In Full Mix” simulators.

3. Who can get enough of illnesses with a silent “p”?

4. SARS jokes galore for April Fool’s.

5. It’s like the honour student version of a cold. Extra points for take home antibiotics!

6. If you swallow a goldfish in a college prank, that fish could well live happily in your lung for a year.

7. You can stand outside in the rain in bare feet with no coat or hat on, shivering, and when some old woman goes to yell at you as they walk by, you can yell: “NO, I WON’T! I ALREADY HAVE IT! SO THERE!”

8. People who come to hand you assignments at work tell you kindly that you should be home in bed.

9. You drink enough tea and juice to become the living embodiment of 1/3 of a continental breakfast.

10. You get fodder for a list that will probably make your mother wring her hands involuntarily while struggling to laugh.

I know, I know. I should suck it up and write.

But I’m so ACHY. And whiny.

Fever still up, coughing on the scene, and chills like you would not believe (even in fleece pants, with the fireplace UP.)

I can’t. blog. coherently.

But it’s coming, I promise.

Fever is now down to 101 F. Not bad.

Don’t want to write a post about something special when my nose is running down my face, though.

Love to all. Back soon.

This morning, when I got on the bus, I was the only person standing.

Which is cool… I don’t mind standing, because I sit most of the day, and also?

Squishing up to people is kind of meh on the best of days.

But my standalone moment was not to last, because another woman got on and walked the length of the bus to STAND DIRECTLY NEXT TO ME.

Not, you know, a couple feet away.

Or even a couple INCHES.

In fact, her bag was digging into my side from the second she arrived.

So I stepped away from her to occupy ALL THE ROOM THAT WAS LEFT to avoid the bag-poke, and do you know what she did?

She moved with me. And came in even MORE closely. Now there was something extra-pointy protruding from her bag into my side, and I had nowhere to go to avoid it.

Every bump we hit? POKE!

Every corner? STAB!

The whole trip? OW!

Even when I would try and angle my body a different way to reduce the poke, she would follow me and YIKES!

Eventually, I turned to her (with a kind smile, assuming the best) and said, “Oooh, I think there’s a little something that might be about to poke out of your bag, there.” and pointed at this THING that was leaving dents in my flesh.

She turned to me, smiled (with eerily unwavering eye contact), and said, “Oh, yes. Those are my shears.”

No moving the bag.

No apology.

No breaking her gaze.

“Oh, okay — just didn’t want you to lose them if they poked right out of your bag.”

At this point she shuffles in CLOSER. OW.

“I think they’re safe.”

“Great.”

At that point, I finally just went to stand at the front of the bus, so she and her poky bits could have their space.

She continued to stare at me until another man got on the bus, and her face lit up. He headed down the aisle past me, and within moments, I saw him jump and touch his side.

Yes.

Public transit IS awesome.

I love those little “Under Construction” images people put on unfinished websites.

And when I say love, what I really mean is loathe.

Not because I don’t support construction workers — heaven knows, someone needs to face the ever-present threat of rebar impalement and IT’S NOT GOING TO BE ME — but because people tend to leave those images up FOREVER.

MONTHS.

YEARS.

As though some tiny cartoon crew continues to dig holes endlessly behind the scenes and take tiny cartoon breaks where they eat from tiny cartoon lunchboxes and ogle tiny cartoon women walking by.

Wait. That’s awesome. I’m putting up a GIF right now.

BUT.

I’ve been so inconsistent about posting lately that I considered putting up a tiny cartoon dude today just to be ironic (or annoying, which is what people become when they consciously try for irony.) But I didn’t, since I can’t really afford cartoon labour insurance.

What AM I talking about?

Oh, yeah. I haven’t been posting much lately.

Which is the OTHER MOST ANNOYING THING SOMEONE CAN POST ON A WEBSITE.

“Sorry! I’ve been super busy lately!”

“Oops, just catching up! Will post soon!”

“I’ve got some posts in the pipeline I’m working on… please come back soon!”

I mean, true, true…. some people are so popular in terms of readership that no one can go longer than a day without hearing from them.

But, save for my dad and his love of “Refresh”, I think everyone is okay if I take a wee break now and then to do what I do when I’m not doing this.

Which is:

1. Sleep, kind of. Sometimes.
2. Eat, kind of. Sometimes.
3. Work. Definitely.
4. Write. See 3 and 5.
5. Laugh. Frequently.

And cookingsingingdancingrunningaroundlikeachickenwithmyheadcutoff.

You know?

I’m kind of up to my neck in life, but that’s no excuse not to tread water like a good girl and tell you how everything is going down.

So!

Here are my four goals and obsessions as of late:

1. California! April! YES! Still working out a schedule with the lovely Eric but I MUST GET TO THE PALM TREES. And L.A. And penguins. All of which are unrelated (but also related.) I. cannot. wait. I need to renew my freckle count and see waves.

2. MacBook Pro! I have to upgrade. I use my computer too often not to. And as a friend was saying to me the other day, “I feel like you’re lacking the technology you need to do the big things.” And to you, my friend, I say YES. But as with Lawrence’s Rocking Horse Winner, “there must be more money!” Which I am also working on. Because that’s how you make money, unless you inherit it or steal it, neither of which really seems an option at this point.

3. Wedding! My brother is getting married in Yellowknife (yes, you read that right) at the mid-end of this month, and… wait for it… the ceremony is in a SNOW CASTLE. So I have to figure out how to pack for both a nice dinner reception and FREEZING TO DEATH LIKE THE TASTIEST MORSEL IN THE DONNER PARTY.

4. Self-marketing. I’m still working on this. I suck at it. Truly. (AND IF YOU ARE LOOKING TO HIRE ME, HELLO! I WRITE. CAN I WRITE FOR YOU? FOR MONEY? HI! I HAVE MANY WORDS TO CHOOSE FROM!) But I think I could get better at it if I just started operating more professionally and effectively, rather than exceedingly casually. And Other Words That End in “LY”.

(Irony: The first time I published this, I forgot to bold the words “Self Marketing”.)

But enough about me.

How are you?

I was tired.

So very tired.

So very tired that by the time Friday night rolled around, not only was I sending out emails with spelling mistakes and non sequiturs, I overtipped a takeout delivery guy who disoriented me with shiny coins, and fell asleep curled up like a donut in a chair by 8 pm.

Tired.

When I woke up two hours later to Catherine’s gentle suggestion that perhaps my bed might be a better spot for me to snore, I was impossibly confused and even MORE tired.

Which is why I was surprised to wake up at 8 am the next morning, completely unable to sleep in.

What?

I think I’m getting old.

Next thing you know, I’ll be having tea and toast at 7:45 pm (midway through watching Alex Trebek, before the ever-stressful Final Jeopardy!, and crawling into bed with my shawl to read my “stories.”

In other news, I’m beginning my Annual March Sinus Infection with nearly clockwork precision. My face feels like someone punched me in my sleep (which may well have happened, Catherine can be violent when she sleepwalks) and I’m clogged and weepy like a bad pore.

Which might have contributed to being so tired.

Someone get me my shawl.