It should have been safe

When you're on a conference call at work, it's customary to call in, and then put yourself on mute while you listen. With that in mind, when I had to burp during my after-lunch meeting, it should have been safe to do so, so I did.

..except I wasn't on mute.

Office lingo

I've been back to work for a few weeks now and while I'm pretty much adjusted to it, I'm still a little rusty on my office lingo. For example, the following conversation happened:

Boss: YOA come to 6F oooppss
Me: ?????
Me: are you asking me to come to 6F
Boss: Yes.

If I'd been in full swing, I wouldn't have had to question it. Duh.

The muffin (wo)man

In an attempt to be the wholesome, ideal mother save a couple of bucks every week, I've been trying to make use of my muffin tins by baking muffins once a week to serve as a quick grab item for breakfast. I've tried a couple of recipes so far and the best one to date was a banana chocolate chip muffin. Being banana, this recipe was great because it also allowed me to make use of all the overripe bananas I was prone to having at the end of the week.

So far, my plan was going well:
1. Muffins from home so I'm not buying muffins while at work.
2. Banana muffins mean I'm getting to use overripe bananas instead of tossing them out.
3. Chocolate chip banana muffins mean "yum, chocolate!"

However, this week, the batch didn't turn out so hot. I was trying to convey that the muffins weren't "throw immediately into the garbage" no good, but they just weren't tasty. Some couldn't understand how they could be bad when there was chocolate involved, some just thought I was being modest. But the conversation I had with Malcolm last night perfectly relayed why they weren't so hot.

Me: Sorry the muffins this week weren't so great.
Malc: Oh, honey, don't be hard on yourself, they're good!
Me: No they're not, you can barely taste the banana.
Malc: These are banana muffins?!

See? Chocolate chip banana muffin fail. Accidental chocolate chip only muffin win.

The boots of regret

Something like 10 years ago, I went down to Washington D. C. to play in an annual volleyball tournament. Along the way, our driving convoy stopped in Grove City, PA to shop at the outlets there. It was my first time there, and man, were there ever deals!

I was still a new player back then, young and probably barely employed. But I made out like a bandit on things that cost me no more than $10 - 20 apiece. I stuck to the stores that I was familiar with and was pretty sure that I could afford to shop in: The GAP, Aeropostale (and this was before it came to Canada), the Nike Store...it was there I scored some great deals. Thinking I'd done all I could, I tagged along with another friend into a shoe store I'd never heard of before. Today, I couldn't tell you what it was called, but that's where this story REALLY began.

While she shopped, I browsed. As I browsed, I came across a pair of knee-high boots. Back then, I guess stretchy leather was not as common because when it came to these kinds of boots, you either had tiny little calves that fit the all-leather made boots, or you had giant-sized calves that had to be squeezed into boots that were part leather, part ugly-black-elastic-stretch-section-in-the-back. Being of the latter half of the population, I didn't have high hopes with these all-leather boots.

But then.

They fit! They fit like a glove! They were all leather! I was astounded. I took a few steps in them and they were comfortable. I checked out the brand name on the box - Kenneth Cole. All I knew was that it was a brand name that was typically out of range for my starving-student budget.

But then.

I flipped my heel and looked at the price tag stapled to the bottom of the boot: $98. $98?! You can never get boots - knee-high boots - for less than a hundred dollars!

But then.

My inexperienced shopping mind made the following "logical" deduction:

• I hadn't come on this volleyball trip prepared to shop
• Everything else I had bought on this unexpected trip was less than $20
• These boots were $98 and were 5x more expensive than anything else I'd bought so far
• I didn't need the boots
• Therefore, don't buy the boots.

And so, feeling good about brain power, I didn't buy the boots, got in the car, and continued on with the caravan, away from the outlets and on to our volleyball tournament in Washington. Surprisingly, it wasn't until I got back to Toronto the next weekend that it kicked in.

I should have bought those boots.

Perhaps I should have. but hey, they were just boots, I could find another pair. And so, feeling a little bit of regret, I decided to find myself a pair of replacement boots. That's when the REAL regret kicked in.

I couldn't find another pair.

All leather boots didn't fit me. Boots that did fit me had that terrible ugly elastic section in the back. Any boots that came close to being not-ugly-enough-to-want-to-buy were astronomically expensive. None of them were comfortable.

It plagued me for years that I couldn't find another pair. The scene played over and over in my mind: me standing there with the boots ON my feet, deciding I didn't need them, and then me walking out of the store without them. I wanted to scream at that past reflection of myself, buy the damn boots! You'll never find the same!

I regretted it. Oh, I regretted it hard. For YEARS. Since then, I've made it a point in my life to be sure that I'll never regret NOT buying something while I could, again. And that is the story, of the boots of regret...
...

...and that, honey, is why I HAD to buy these new Kenneth Cole boots while I was supposed to be grocery shopping!

After the show it's the after party

And usually the after party (of the party, that is...I'm not exactly putting on any [free] shows at my house) involves a mountain of dishes, a buffet of leftovers, further party-activity coordination, table and floor clean-up, simultaneous guest entertainment, not to mention baby-watching. Is it worth all the trouble, just to have a few hours of socializing with friends?

Always.

Besides, many hands make light work and none of the guests could be coerced to sit down and enjoy themselves. Dishes were washed, leftovers were packed, tables and floors cleaned and swept, and the baby not just watched, but bathed! With all of that so quickly out of the way, it was no time before we jammed a candle into a box of doughnuts and called it a cake for the birthday guest amongst us (despite the actual cake sitting a little further away on the table).

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I had a good time with good friends and family last night. That's all.

Mom-ninja level: 0

I put the little guy down for his second nap of the day. It was a great success: he fell asleep without needing to be nursed or rocked, and since I didn't swaddle him, I was able to tuck a blanket tightly around him without him waking up. All I had to do from there was extricate myself stealthily from the living room and let him nap away...

From my lying position on the couch, I sat up...onto a crinkly toy. I put my feet onto the floor...and kicked a rattle. Standing up...a jingly ball rolled into my vacant spot on the couch.  Tip-toeing from the room...I knocked a pen onto the glass table-top.

...and my little guy slept through it all...phew!

Like Chandler's gum

One of the most ridiculously coldest days out ever (-42°C) and I was struck with a moment.  Freezing cold as it was outside, the sun was streaming in the windows, warming all of the rooms it touched. I was in the kitchen with the sunshine pouring in through the glass patio doors. A pot of congee was cooking on the stove, steaming up the tops of the windows. Ed Sheeran softly played from the radio and the house was quiet as Malcolm was upstairs putting the baby down for a nap. The dishes were done and all plans for the day had been cancelled due to the extreme cold outside, and yet there I was having a perfectly warm and cozy moment inside. It was good.
...

This was what was playing during my moment: