I made you tacos!

1. I made you tacos!
2. You look cute in that outfit.
3. I topped off the gas tank.
4. You can have the last one.
5. You can watch the game tonight.
6. Let me scratch your back.
7. I made an appointment at the spa for you.
8. I bought your favorite ice cream/cereal/cookies/whatever.
9. Your hair looks great!
   

Nine things you love to hear from your partner. It was hard stopping at #9! Way easier than the 'you can't put that in the dishwasher' post!

You can't put that in the dishwasher!

1. You can't put that in the dishwasher!
2. That's not a parking space.
3. Do you mind if I eat the last one?
4. Let me try.
5. It's not that hard.
6. You're doing it wrong.
7. While you're up, can you bring me back a glass of water?
8. It's your turn.
9. What are you wearing?
   
   Nine things you hate to hear your partner say. Any ideas for number ten?
   
   

Where are you from?

I get that question a lot. "Where are you from?"

Every once in a while I meet a local dolt (every town has one) who is shocked that I speak English. And not Apu-Quickie-Mart-accented-English, but suburban-Chicago-educated English. And it is always a pleasure to watch the blinking stammering dolt try to recover from his/her clumsy faux pas. Inevitably, they try to understand the situation by asking me where I'm from.

Dolt: (Walks into lab looking for something. Walks past me and up to sudoku-playing colleague). Hey, I'm looking for some chloramphenicol. The inventory list says you ordered it. Could I borrow some?

Sudoku girl: I didn't order any. Sorry.

Dolt: Are you Nancy?

Me: Oh, that's me, I already used it all. But I have might have some 10mg per ml aliquots in the minus twenty. What concentration do you need?

Dolt: (Staring) Er, I don't know.

Me:(And then I tell the dolt how to do his experiment.).......and be sure to keep it in the dark because it's light sensitive.

Dolt: Where are you from?

Me: Chicago.

Dolt: No, where are you really from?

Me: Chicago.

Dolt: Really? Because you don't look like you are from Chicago.

At this point I file thru my mental rolodex of Chicago people: Oprah Winfrey, Mayor Daley, Al Capone. I guess I don't fit the profile.

Anyway, what I really meant to write about today was about how several Canadians have asked about my accent. Canadians are far too polite to ask probing questions about my ethnic identity. But they are all pretty tuned into my Chicago accent. My co-workers have noticed that I don't use any English spellings (colour/color) and that I say the letter "zee" instead of the letter "zed". When Canadians learn that I am from Chicago, they light up and rave about how much they love Chicago. My nasal Chicago accent isn't glamorous, and it never gained me any advantage, but it sure is nice to have a hometown that is beloved.

As for "where are you from?", the answer to that question depends on who asks. In America, that question was usually directed to force a conversation about race. In Canada it's about hometown connections. I'm on the same wavelength as the Canadians....home is where the accent is.

P Mode

You know that little dial on your digital camera? The one that has the letters PASM and the little icons and stuff? Well, the P stands for Program mode. I thought it stood for Photo mode, but I guess that is kind of redundant. After all, isn't every mode on a camera photo mode? Anyway, I always use P mode. Every single photo I have ever taken has been in P mode. Because the P mode is the 'easy' button.

When I came back from India and saw how awful most of my photos turned out I grew really bummed and depressed. My Dad gave me my digital camera and I was hoping to take some lovely snaps of my family to share with my folks back home. But most of the photos were blurry or dark. And my photos of the Taj Mahal were flat and over exposed.

So I did something nutty. I read the camera manual. And it turns out that if you want to take a photo of something shiny and white on a sunny day (like the Taj Mahal), you can't use the P mode. You have to use the fancy mode. Being a gear head, I should have looked into this before my big trip to India, but I am playing with it now.

Which brings me to the odd photo above. That's my self portrait in the back of an espresso machine. And I took it in the manual mode. And it worked. Except for the upper right hand corner, but I can ignore that. And now I feel all smug and glad. Cuz I read the manual. Where's my trophy?

And the moral of the story is.......???

My new mp3 player

My new mp3 player
Originally uploaded by nanodudek.

My last mp3 player was my cell phone, and only held 512MB. But check out my cute lil mp3 player! It's slightly bigger than a sugar cube. My new lil girl is tewtally tricked out with features like:

• a rechargeble battery
• 2GB flash with a tiny USB connector that plugs into the headphone jack
• FM tuner with my local radio stations in memory
• voice recorder (so I can record love notes and/or podcasts, neither of which I will ever do)
• a tiny screen that scrolls track info (and plays video is you are the type of person who wants to watch Titanic on a 1" screen)

How schweet is that?!?

Thanks to Kevin for the gift!

It's called the MobiBlu Cube 2 and you can find it at Amazon.

I Quit.

Maybe it's because I am over thirty. Maybe it's because I have enough experience to recognize bullshit. Maybe it's because I really don't care about being nice and pleasing everyone anymore. I can do it. I can say "I quit."

It's an essential skill that I have had to use twice in the last month. In the first instance, I was getting the run-around from a charity I wanted to volunteer with. After three months of lost files, ignored emails, canceled meetings and phone tag, I told them I was no longer interested in helping them. I tried to put it kindly and coolly, and I was disappointed that it didn't work out. But a simple cost analysis revealed that I had put in a lot of time and effort and received nothing but abuse in return. It was a simple decision, it was time to quit.

This weekend I decided to quit skiing. Sure, the views are unforgettable, the sport is thrilling, and the physical vigor is a challenge. But after a ski weekend in Whistler, I realized that I have spent many hours packing/checking my equipment, traveling to the slopes, and waiting in line at the lift. Add in the cost of lodging, lessons and lift tickets and my conclusion is that skiing is a huge expense and time sink in exchange for a few hours of excitement. I would rather use that time and money for recreation and entertainment closer to home. I gave skiing my full attention and effort, multiple times, with different people in varying weather conditions and skiing is just not for me. So I quit.

Quitting isn't easy. We're raised to be plucky, committed women who don't give up. But quitting is a critical survival skill. When you realize you're finished, quit.

Life’s Little Victories March 2007

• Witnessing a spectacular photo opportunity and you actually happen to have your camera ready.
• Oversleeping but you are still the first one into work.
• Finding a parking space in a busy part of town during the busiest part of the day AND the meter is broken, so you don’t have to pay.
• Snagging a freshly cleaned and scrubbed shopping cart.
• Cooking a difficult recipe for the first time and it works.
• Accidentally buying a strange, unfamiliar flavor of potato chips and they turn out to be delicious.

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tree House

I have a fascination with the future. I love dreaming about robots and flying cars and rice cookers that also function as mp3 players. I like to wonder what my house will be like in the future...

Maybe my appliances will be semi-intelligent and send me emails. Wouldn't it be great if the refrigerator could send you a reminder when your veggies and leftovers are about to go bad? Or even better, the pantry would sync its inventory with the fridge and send you an email detailing meal ideas for the week and a shopping list for the essentials.

But I never imagined that my future home might be a tree house. Imagine a home made out of a grafted tree. The trunk and branches would be grafted into a lattice framework that supported your home. Your home would become a living, breathing, creature that was continually growing.

The benefits are obvious....your tree house would be literally and figuratively green. Your home would cool the planet while scrubbing the air clean. Your house would smell earthy and fresh. And to top it all off, your neighbors would be squirrels. How cute is that!?!

The only drawback I can think of is that it seems like living inside a treehouse would be itchy.

What do you think, would you be willing to live in a tree house?

Vancouver Morning

This winter, just about every single morning in Vancouver has begun with this dreary view.

Mucus Trails

Check out this nutty article about how Snails Save Energy by Re-Using Mucus Trails .

It turns out that snails play follow the leader, and slide along in the mucus trail left by the snails before them. This saves them energy and mucus.

I was glad to read that there is a group of scientists who had a job worse than I did. I have had to kill mice, grind testicles, and pick worm eggs, all in the name of science, but these poor saps had to measure the depth of snail mucus. They didn't even get to work in the comfort of a lab, they were out shivering in damp tidepools with calipers and clipboards.

I am also fascinated by the similarities between snails and celebrities. Imagine all the snails that are following the mucus left behind by the likes of Paris Hilton with the hope that it will save them some energy on their path to stardom.

Thundersnow

Earlier this week I received an email from a Chicagoan describing the recent awful weather and she mentioned the meteorological phenomena of 'thundersnow.'

The first thing I thought was "what an awesome name for my band!" It takes something fearful and something romantic and marries them together!

Of course, I don't actually have a band, but I know what I would name my band if I were ever to have one. Thundersnow, Snake Surprise, Soldier Chutney, Charming Andrew, etc. etc. I have a shortlist in the back of my mind.

I'm not the only one who names her band. Everyone does it. In fact, the CBC just wrote this fun article; What does a band’s moniker say about its music? , with a hyperlink to a random band name generator.

So, it's time to share, dear blog readers....what's your band's name?