In which Chor-ZZzzzzzzzzz

I'm so tired this morning.

Last night, I worked a casino for Chamber Choir. (In Prairie Province, a portion of the revenue generated by casinos goes towards non-profit organizations, who come in and volunteer at the casino for two days once every couple of years.) I was working as the Banker, which means that I was responsible for ensuring that money and chips all reconciled at the end of the night. It's really a very low-stress position, because the casino advisor stands over you and tells you exactly what to do at every moment, so you're never without supervision.

The shift went well, though the casino was very quiet (Wednesday, apparently, is not a big gambling night). It was, however, 2:30am before I got home, and once home, it was 3:00am before I got the cats fed, and got myself washed and brushed and pj-ed and into bed. And then it was 6:15am when the alarm went off, and the cat-related bothering started. Cat-related bothering involves Baby Cat standing right next to my face, purring like a motor-boat, and picking at my pajamas with her front claws.

So it will be a long day.

That being said, tonight is World's Greatest Nephew's Grade Five musical, and I am going to go and grin at him in a Proud Auntie kind of way. That should end the day on a very cheerful note. I believe he is playing the very important role of third extra from the left. THAT'S MY BOY!

Who's Up and Who's Down

Who's Up! :)

1. The Canadian Women's Soccer Team, who last week qualified for their first Olympic Games. The team also came very close to winning the Olympic qualifying tournament, eventually losing to the US in a shootout in the final.

2. Trevor Immelman, who became only the second South African to win the Green Jacket at Augusta, following in the footsteps of his idol, Gary Player.

On this subject, just a quick word about Tiger Woods. There has been a lot of negative press about Tiger this week, about his inability to putt when it counted, about the seeming disappearance of the competitive spirit for which he's known, about his failure to dominate in his usual manner. Just a quick thought... HE CAME SECOND. Yes, he putted badly, and he didn't close the gap when he had the chance on Sunday, but he still. came. second. I appreciated so much the commentator who said that this is what makes Tiger special: when he is playing well, there is really a negligible difference between him and other top players who are playing well. But when he's playing poorly, he still grinds out 71s and 72s where other golfers log 75s and 76s (cough cough Phil cough cough). Just sayin'...

3. Frank Thomas and Ken Griffey Jr.: No really special accomplishment this week, but I wanted to draw attention to this article, which details how these two players have been successful big hitters in the major leagues for many years without a hint of drug-related suspicion.

4. Kevin Martin, who's Canadian rink won the Men's World Curling Championships last weekend!

Who's Down! :(

1. The Ottawa Senators: This team is really starting to get on my nerves. On the verge of being swept out of the NHL playoffs with a whimper, this team is full of rich guys with enormous talent, and they play like babies. BIG RICH BABIES.

2. Eating Competitions: Maybe this one is unfair because it's more based on personal dislike than on anything this "sport" or its competitors did, but I figure this is my list, and I can put who/what I want on it. Eating competitions are disgusting. And wasteful. And in a week when grain prices rose, worsening the already-horrid food crisis around the world, this guy put away THIRTY-FIVE DOZEN OYSTERS to win a stupid belt. Gross.

3. Sean Avery, our idiot of the week.

In which Chorus Cleans

*Not actually Chorus

So I'm taking a new approach to cleaning this week while WH is away. WH and I do a really good job of keeping our house "clean" in the sense that our floors are swept or vacuumed regularly, the bathroom gets cleaned often (WH does this, bless him). we're relatively clutter free in most rooms, etc. But we have a hard time finding the time and the energy to tackle the cleaning projects that are more involved (eg. involve moving furniture) or that need doing less often, like vaccuming behind/under couches. Because so many of our evenings are taken up with rehearsals, we tend to resist the idea of taking up the hour and a half that we're home between work and singing with a cleaning project. We use that time for making dinner and watching TV and catching up on what each other has done that day. And so these projects pile up.

So the new approach, first attempted to great success last night, is not to worry too much about DECIDING to take on one particular project. Instead, I started at one part of the house and looked around and saw something that needed to be put away. So I put it away. Then, I looked around the room where I had put Item #1 away, and saw something that needed to be dusted. So I dusted it. Then I noticed that the baseboards needed vacuuming. So I vacuumed them. And by the time I was done vacuuming, I had moved into another room, where I noticed that a piece of furniture we never use was collecting a lot of dust. So I moved it into our storage room. And while I was in the storage room, I noticed that the litter box needed to be emptied. So I emptied it. And while I was throwing out the litter, I noticed that there was a collection of brooms on the back porch that needed to be brought downstairs with the other cleaning stuff. And while I was looking at the cleaning stuff, I saw some old cleaning tools that could be put in the rummage sale pile. So I took them to the rummage sale pile, which is currently in the spare bedroom. And while I was in the spare bedroom... well, you get the picture.

The result was that in only the 30 mintues that I had to work on house things, I did something impactful in about 4 different rooms of the house. And I didn't worry so much about COMPLETION. I just did stuff.

And felt pretty good about it!

In which Chorus kicks her blog

I am suffering from grumpiness, related to a kind of blogging block. It's not that I don't have anything to write about; there are dozens of potential posts dancing around in my brain at any given time. But when I've tried to write some of those posts, the words don't come in the way that I want them to.

BAD BLOG. (Kicks blog several times in the knee-cap.)

There now. Having failed at my attempt to write the post I wanted to, I instead present a list of things I'm hoping to get accomplished before WH gets home on the 27th

1. Get our hockey pool money all paid out. (Progress report: email sent this morning to our winners; making arrangements for delivery of payments, hopefully sooner rather than later.)
2. Arrange for piano delivery. (Progress report: DONE. The piano will be delivered on Friday.*)
   
3. Spring cleaning. (Progress report: Thought about it a lot; haven't actually started yet. What I have thought about is my desire to spend significant time in every single room of the house at some point in the next two weeks, to the effect that when WH gets home, the house won't just look clean, but IMPROVED.)
   
4. Deliver our donations to the church rummage sale. (Progress Report: I've set aside the clothes that we'll be donating, but I still need to have a look through our downstairs storage shelves to see what else might go. Have I mentioned on this blog before that I am clutter's worst nightmare?)
   
5. Bake a pie. (Progress Report: Just thought of this one in the last few minutes because I saw a picture of a pie. And I've never baked one before. This may wait until late next week so that WH can help me eat the pie.)
   
6. Put away dreaded pile of unsorted music at the church. (Progress report: I look at that pile with pure distaste every time I'm at the church. Hopefully one of these days, that distaste will turn to action.)
   
7. Surprise for WH. I can't provide too much detail about this one, suffice to say that I've consulted with my expert, and I think I have an action plan. Tee hee hee...
   

* Friends of ours have asked us to babysit their piano while they rebuild their garage, in which the piano was being stored while its refurbishment was pending. It's a beautiful old piano, with great carvings - just very badly needs to be tuned!)

In Which Chorus is Overcome by the Cuteness...

We have some dear friends, J and D, who have a truly precious little boy. Their boy has just turned two years old, so WH and I went out last week and bought him a Tonka drag-racing set, one of those ones where you push the little cars into their slots and press the buttons, which release the cars forward at a relatively impressive rate of speed.

So this afternoon the phone rang, and I picked up and J answered. She said, "Hi Chorus? Hang on one second." And a little tiny two-year old voice said, "Thank you for the race cars."

AWWWWWWWW.... Love him to bits, I really do.

Speaking of WH, he's off to Big City in the East to adjudicate their music festival there. So I'm on my own for two weeks... I handle it better than Bridget Jones though...

Friday Five: Moving!

Mother Laura from the RevGals gives us this wonderful Friday Five about moving!

We are right in the middle of a move--only twenty minutes away, but we're still a mix of busy, excited, nervous and surprisingly full of grief about what we're leaving, for me at least. So this week's Friday Five asks about your experience of the marvels and madness of moving...

1. How many times have you moved? When was the last time?

I've moved 3 and a half times, and I add the half because the last move was in two stages - we moved everything out of my apartment and into storage, and then a week later, we moved out of storage and into our wee house. That was in November of 2006.

2. What do you love and hate about moving?

Well, I suppose what I love about moving is the opportunity to start fresh, the opportunity to re-organize and de-clutter, but that's about it. I really hate the process. I hate the feeling of seeing everything I own in boxes. I hate packing. I hate unpacking. I hate cleaning the old place when all you really want to do is get out and move on.

3. Do you do it yourself or hire movers?

I have always moved myself, but when WH and I moved into our little house, we swore that the next time we would hire movers. We'll see how we feel when we get there, and we'll see what the finances are like, but I suspect we'll stick to our plan and bring in the professionals. I'd like my hide-a-bed lifting days to be over.

4. Advice for surviving and thriving during a move?

Well, my advice for anybody involved in a move with me is to take nothing I say to you personally. I apologize in advance for the epic bad mood and the potty mouth.

Also, frequent hugs are good.

5. Are you in the middle of any inner moves, if not outer ones?

I can't think of anything tangible at this point that will blog effectively!

Mother Laura provided a bonus question, but I'm going to create my own here and tell the story of my most memorable move. My first move "out" was into a two bedroom apartment with a dear girlfriend from University. We lived together for two years and had a wonderful time. Then she got married and moved into her new house with her new husband. There was absolutely no reason for me to stay in a two-bedroom apartment, so I asked the landlord if I could move into a one-bedroom suite in the same building. I was assured that one would be coming available at the end of the month because another tenant was being evicted. I wasn't able to get in to that suite to see it, but I was shown another identical suite and it looked perfect. (FIRST LESSON - Always press to see the exact suite you'll be moving in to.) As the month wore on, there was no sign that the tenant in the other suite was going to recognize the eviction notice, which foolishly had not had a firm exit date put on it, but rather, a "please leave as soon as possible" caveat. Chorus's stress level began to elevate. About two days before the end of the month, after much pestering of the other tenant by the landlord, the other tenant finally left. I was very glad, and asked to see the suite. I was told no, that I really didn't want to see it until they had a chance to get the cleaners in... Alarm bells started to go off. I put my foot down. And the landlord said, "Ok, you can see it, but don't worry." Alarm bells at a major high pitch by this point.

So we went over.

And the apartment was an absolute and complete disastrous mess. There were several contributing factors:
-the previous tenant had been evicted and so chose to take her furniture and leave all her trash
-the previous tenant appears to have lived in a big pile of garbage
-the previous tenant appears to have been some kind of wacko

There was garbage everywhere. The fridge and kitchen were full of rotting food and dirty dishes. There was food all over the walls, mostly ketchup by the look of it. The hardwood floors had been scarred beyond repair. The bathroom was... gross. She had drawn a picture of herself in permanent paint on the bathroom mirror. There were beer bottles everywhere.

I wept.

In all my years, I don't think I've ever been as grateful as I was to the women that came in to clean that apartment. In 12 hours, they turned what was essentially a one-bedroom landfill into a nice, clean space. We came in on their heels and painted every surface, and the apartment turned into a beautiful home for me for two years.

In which Chorus Features Stan Rogers

I have really very little to blog about today that wouldn't involve whining, so I figured that rather than whine at you, I would quote Stan Rogers at you, and that at least would make me feel good.


Northwest Passage

Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea;
Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage
And make a Northwest Passage to the sea.

Westward from the Davis Strait 'tis there 'twas said to lie
The sea route to the Orient for which so many died;
Seeking gold and glory, leaving weathered, broken bones
And a long-forgotten lonely cairn of stones.

Three centuries thereafter, I take passage overland
In the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his "sea of flowers" began
Watching cities rise before me, then behind me sink again
This tardiest explorer, driving hard across the plain.

And through the night, behind the wheel, the mileage clicking west
I think upon Mackenzie, David Thompson and the rest
Who cracked the mountain ramparts and did show a path for me
To race the roaring Fraser to the sea.

How then am I so different from the first men through this way?
Like them, I left a settled life, I threw it all away.
To seek a Northwest Passage at the call of many men
To find there but the road back home again.

And here's a particularly moving rendition of it, sung by the Bard of Cornwall.