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!

Quotes of the moment

A perfect one to follow the previous girly quote...

From one other girl to another:

   "These are really juicy melons."
   "Are you saying you like my juicy melons?"
   "I am."
...

This long weekend, we had a BBQ which we ended off by playing Cards Against Humanity.  If you've ever played it, you'd understand.  It's like mad-libs for people who have no sense of decency. Anyway, we had a howling good time, especially considering the fact that it was some people's first time getting to know each other.  At the end of the game, two strangers-turned-new-friends said their goodbyes to part ways.

   "Hey, that was fun!  It was nice playing and getting to know you."
   "Yeah, same here. I'm sure we'll see each other again."
   "Yup - in hell."

Maybe you had to be there, or maybe you'd have had to have played the game...that was pretty slick.
...

One of the winning card combinations of last night:
I got 99 problems but fisting ain't one.

Indeed.

Corporate culture can be enthusiastic

   "Hey, oh my god it's sunny!  The sun is out!  Oh, sorry guys, I was just so excited that it was sunny out.  Like 'what IS that big orange thing?'  Oh my god, don't mind me, guys."
   --my Director this afternoon as she passed by the windows by our row
...

Have I mentioned I love working here?

Pimp sleepwalking

I love my workplace.  I talk about playing racist volleyball and using pimp sticks and no one bats an eye. 
...

As I have done most of my life, I spent last night out playing at the CNE until late instead of doing "responsible things" and upon returning home after midnight, was faced with the task of having to pack and prepare myself for the next three days of volleyball tourney that I had in front of me.  And also, as I have done most of my life, I had not planned far enough ahead to have my favourite gear and clothing ready and washed to pack for this weekend. 

Some time after 1am, I threw a half-load of the things I absolutely needed into the wash and convinced myself that I could go to bed for a bit because I'd definitely hear the "I'm finished" alarm on the washing machine.  The plan was that I would then get up and throw the clothes into the dryer before going back to bed so that everything would be clean and dry and waiting to be thrown into my bags in the morning during my dash out the door to work. 

So this morning.

First of all, I slept later than I should have.  When I woke, I realized I couldn't remember falling asleep.  And then I realized I couldn't remember getting up and then going back to sleep.  Crud.  And yet.  When I walked down to the laundry room, not only did I find that I'd managed to get the load into the dryer (WITH a dryer sheet), I had somehow had the sense about me to hang up my incredibly-shrinking-dress to line dry as well as Malcolm's dress shirt.  Amazing.

After seeing all of the things as I'd apparently left them the night, I could vaguely recall being down in the laundry room in a ridiculous stupor, however, to save myself the strain of trying to recall details, I'm happy enough to believe that the house elves did it for me.  Or the bats.

This past Labour Day Weekend

...was awesome. :)

Worming through it

There's a story that I want to tell you about, but first I have to tell you another story. It's not that this one plays a big part of anything, but I think it deserves a mention because it continues to resurface time and time again in our volleyball memories.

And it's unfortunately one of those stories that you had to be there for.

Years ago, our volleyball team had a coach. He spent one practice trying to get us to refine our diving techniques. Describing it, he wanted us to learn to dive gracefully--chest on the ground first, then stomach and legs to follow. It was basically like doing the worm.


It was understandably a little awkward, but after just a short while on the mats, most of the girls got it. Except for T.

Her many attempts were in earnest, but she never got the grace of it. Not once. Over and over again, she jumped up, and flopped straight down. Jumped up, and flopped straight down. Many of the other girls were in tears, and ehbaba did her best to stay steady enough to capture a video of it on her phone. Unfortunately, the video has since been lost, so I tried to find an accurate representation of the event with google. This is the closest I got.


It was epic. Over and over again she flopped onto that mat. Enough so that none of the girls have ever forgotten it. Enough so that all of the girls that knew there was a video, rue the loss of that video. So now you know, and now I can continue with stories about me. :)

Twice in one day?

Mmmm...volleyball...

Where I was

I was at a friend's house--one of the volleyball girls' boyfriend's house. Most the team was there with a spattering of guys too. There was pizza, wings, pop, and a belated birthday cake. There was Smartfood too--damn you, yummy Smartfood...

The game started quite promptly at 3:15pm as scheduled, and we'd all secured ourselves seats around the room to watch. We cheered at 1-0, we whooped and were on our feet at 2-0. At 2-1 we booed but were still confident--at 2-2 we were deflated but still held on to hope.

After the third intermission, we were all riveted to the screen. Whenever our opponents had possession, the French Teacher was on the edge of her seat, cursing him ("fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou")--much to the strained amusement of all the rest of us. Strained, because we were all intensely focused on the game, but amused because we were all silently cursing the same blue streak.

7 minutes and 40 seconds later, it happened: Canada scored.

We were all on our feet, cheering and screaming--the French Teacher of course being the loudest. My boyfriend swept me into his arms for a celebratory, bone-crushing squeeze. Moments later he swept another girl into his arms to sandwich me between the two of them to the point of lacking oxygen. I didn't care. It felt good.

When we'd finally calmed down, the boyfriend and I made a mad dash out of the house and scooted downtown to catch a show in the theatre district. Thinking we were late, we parked the car as quickly and closely as possible, and sprinted down the street towards the theatre.

With the crazy celebrations that gripped the city in the wake of Canada's golden goal, throngs of people were swarming the streets to pledge their national pride. Having worn my Canada jacket that day in honour of the game, I found myself running through the crowd meeting high-fives being thrown my way at random. It was delightful.

That's where I was. Where were you?

Because it's...

Volleyball cures everything. I was super peeved the other night, but then headed to volleyball, and all peeved-ness was forgotten. I bashed some balls, I hit the floor, I laughed at myself and at my teammates, and I felt better. In fact, when I was later faced with what I'd been peeved at in the first place, I was caught off guard and had to remember to be peeved again.

And then tonight, I was super tired. I guess the itis hit me from chowing down on a heap of pasta before practice. But heck, we started running and passing and digging and hitting and man, I forgot I was tired. In fact, despite the vigorous practice we had tonight (good job, ladies!) I left the gym with more energy than I'd had going in.

This is why I could never give it up. I admit, I tried to cut back a lot over the last two years, trying to discover what life was like (with someone) outside of volleyball, and yet, I still couldn't just give it up completely. If an entire week went by without volleyball, I'd survive, but I'd know something was missing. It's a part of me. I can't deny it. And I never will.

Passed me by

I had to do a double-take and actually visit my own site before I could believe that this was my first post of this year. Though I don't apologize, I do miss it. I was too preoccupied--and not--to write. I seem to have (re)learned what a joy it is to do absolutely nothing. However, doing nothing for too long gets me antsy to the point I panic and become quickly irritable until I do something.

Video games don't count.


If they counted, then I could consider myself as having been well-accomplished over the past few weeks. But no; like watching TV for a marathon stretch of time, video games are the worst. If I sit there long enough, I get cold sweats and lose circulation to my extremities. I shit you not. TV only kind of counts when I come out of the boob-tube coma having completed knitting a scarf or something. Video games only count when there is usually more than one player, and all players, as well as passers-by, get a huge hoot out of watching the goings-on. Though, as much as I am against those marathons stretches of solo TV-watching or video game playing, I have to confess, I am more than a little in love with my new PS3 game...


I haven't even been able to do many casual chores around the house because apparently I'm not the only one with too much time on my hands. My laundry's been folded for me more than once; my cooking catastrophes have been tackled before I could finish my creations. Most people would feel grateful, and while I do, I also feel more than useless.

However, I've had a chance to rediscover (as I do every little while) how much I love to read. Having traveled the 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea that I've always told myself I would (though arguably, not ALL those 20,000 leagues were under the sea), I have now built myself up to The Glass Castle--a trip that started in Japan and took two years to actually happen. All of my shelves are littered with so many books that I've either read, want to read, or am meaning to re-read. One of these days my floor's going to fall through to the basement.


Something I miss more than I care to admit though, is my volleyball. I haven't played in weeks, and due to a hesitation, I missed my chance to break the streak this past weekend. But, I DO get to give it another go on Thursday. I remember the days when it fit so easily in to my life. It wasn't an addiction though, it was a passion. Always was, always will be. I'll be honest, it's been hard cutting back the way I have, but I guess we all have to make sacrifices in life; it was only going to be a matter of when I would do it.

Finally, there's some drama amongst the trinity. I was beginning to think it'd become complacent and boring and was slowly fading. Thank goodness I was wrong.

Lost...again!

Played a great volleyball tournament today with my Sugar girls. We lost out in the semi-finals, but it wasn't for a lack of heart, I can tell you that. I'm pretty sure I can speak for the team when I say that none of us were upset about the loss--we'd put our all into it and came up with great results, only we lost to a better team in the end. There's no shame in that.

However, despite the great teamwork and performance, my personal end of the volleyball day ended off on a sadder note...my volleyball--given to me by these girls for my last birthday--was nowhere to be found. WAH!!! Not even half a year mine (though the broken in and battered condition might suggest otherwise) and it's gone! I'm still hopeful that perhaps someone picked it up by accident and will return it in all honesty by the next play date. We'll see. In the meantime...WAH!!!

Damned Quote of the Moment:

Coach:
    "Okay ladies I want to check with you all about practices this week. Who's going to be there for Wednesday's practice?"

Enthusiastic chorus:
    "I'll be there!"

Coach:
    "Okay, now how about Thursday's practice? Don't forget that Thursday is Valentine's Day so if you have plans, I need to know if you're bailing on me."

Un-enthusiastic chorus:
    "I'll be there..."
...

Now, that either means we're a bunch of really dedicated volleyball players who are committed to practices no matter the occasion...or we're a more than available bunch of ladies.

Who needs a specific day out of the year to show the one you love that you love him? When you're in love, you show him every day of the year; every minute of every day. You never take him for granted, and every morning that you're lucky enough to wake up next to him, you fall a little more, and smile to yourself as you get butterflies in your stomach because you remember that the best part of it all is that he loves you back--just as much.

Love/Hate

Talk about love and hate.

It's been 4 weeks away, 4 turkeys eaten, 3 weeks catered lunches, 3 hangovers, 2 weeks on lack of sleep, 1 hard core practice, and now it's back to volleyball.

My eyes have never been so happy to be in glasses instead of contacts.
My body has never been so angry with me; it aches to breathe.

My physical being is hating it.
My soul is lost in love.

Because it's volleyball...

Combusted and burned

And so in my not-feeling-like-stepping-up-to-my-responsibilities mood yesterday, I decided that my blog needed a face-lift. Pink just didn't fit what I felt. And so...ta-da! It still needs a little work, but I'm starting to feel like it's me again. This layout and colour scheme is pretty close to the one that I originally began blogging with...only the colours are a little off. But I'm liking it. And now when I post pretty pictures like the one below (which I borrowed from someone else's blog that was WAY more artistically inclined than my own--click on the picture to go there) they won't clash so hard with the background colours of my blog.

While going through the layout of my glob blog (true typo) last night, I realized that a bunch of my links were a little out of date, and while updating them, I realized I had to delete one. As much as I love reading about dimps and her musings, I had to respect the fact that while she recently moved that blog, it's location was released to only a select few--out of the way. And so, off she came.

Speaking of dimps, however, I just wanted to throw a quick thing out there. This weekend, I spent an entire day out in the sun, playing a beach volleyball tournament. By my own standards, I'd like to think I got a quite a bit of colour to me for an asian, but then I came across dimps's MSN picture. Tell me...

...do you see a korean in this picture--because I don't!

I have nothing on her. Granted, she spent a week in Cuba lying in the sun, but still. I was so proud. Damn you, dimps!

Pay it forward

On Saturday I headed down to the beach to meet a friend for her BBQ. Of course the place was PACKED. Regardless of the severe heat and humidity warnings, everyone and their mother was down at the beach, bbq-ing, volleyball-ing, sunning, kite-ing, biking, blading, rowing, swimming; you name it, they were down there doing it.

As a consequence of everyone's enthusiasm for the summer weather, there was absolutely no parking to be found. And on top of that, the city had decided to reinstigate paid parking at the Beach! While it only took me 20 minutes to get down to Ashbridges, sans le Lakeshore, it was another 20 minutes at least until I spotted someone preparing to pull out. The spot was on my right, so I pulled up, put my car in reverse, and threw on my turn-signal as I waited patiently. Just then, another car entered the parking lane behind me. However, observant driver as he was, he realized that by being behind me he would not only block me from reversing, but he would also block the guy vacating the spot from backing out, and so he pulled around me and continued his own search for a spot.

By this time, my vacating car was just beginning to back out...when yet another car pulled up in the lane behind me. This time, the guy wasn't so observant. For some reason, he couldn't figure out why the car in front of him (me) was signalling right with her reverse lights on. So dude decides to patiently wait behind me. It still didn't dawn on him that he was in anyone's way, even after my vacate-r honked him because being behind me put him absolutely in the way of EVERYONE.

Exasperated, I was on the brink of deciding to take a more aggressive demeanor with the stupid car behind me when I noticed another spot opening up on the left, just ahead--that new driver had no problems backing out because of the stupid guy's "patience"; he was blocking all incoming traffic.

Executively deciding that it wasn't worth it getting out to explain to the dude what exactly the signals coming from my car meant, I just threw my car in gear and sped into the new spot. As I begrudgingly relinquished my firstly found spot, I noticed something that immediately released all my grumpiness: the girl that had just given me her spot had pulled over and was waving something out the window at me. My car now in park, I jumped out and scooted over to her.

"Here, take it."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely! It's good until midnight tonight."
"Wow, thanks so much!"
"No problem, have fun!"

And with that, she drove off, leaving me behind in a humid cloud of unintentional dust, her paid parking stub clutched in my sweaty hands; any disgruntledness that might have been brewing was decidedly dissipated after that. I locked up the car with her ticket in my window, and headed out to enjoy my first official day at the beach this year.

When I finally returned to my car on my way home early to catch a pot-luck birthday, I spotted the ticket on my dash and warmly remembered where the ticket had come from. I crept out of the parking lot, scanning the crowd intently until I spotted a couple heading to the parking meter.

"Excuse me, have you paid for parking yet?"
"No, not yet."
"Well then here, take it, it's still good until midnight."
"Oh, well, gee, thanks!"
"No problem; have fun."

A little something can go a long way. Thanks, lady, for saving my day and starting something good.

Just getting darker and darker

So I spent last post ranting and raving about how there's not enough time in the week for my balancing act of work, club, play, and what happens today? I'm told I have to meet an insanely near-impossible deadline for Monday, and I've got NO WHERE to pencil in the extra hours. Eff. Sometimes I think my boss' PMS can be worse than mine--and he's a guy.

Anyhoo...the street light across from my window just went out the other night and I have since been enjoying a natural sort of darkness that I can't get enough of. It happens about every three years or so, and I look forward to it everytime. Without the artificial light to flood the street below, I can venture opening my blinds at night and catching a glimpse of what an un-light-polluted sky might look like; if it weren't so cloudy out, I'd actually be able to see stars.

While I know myself to be a city girl through and through (though the occasional adventure in the outback is more than okay by me), I love the night sky and know that I just don't get enough constellation sightings living in the urban sphere. My most favourite home star-gazing happened on the night of the big Blackout four (?) years ago when there wasn't a light in the land, but all of the stars in the sky. It was beautiful. It doesn't happen often, but I do relish it when it does, just as I'm relishing it tonight.

On a small side-bar, I'd like to mention that I know the sleeplessness is getting to me because (though I've edited it since) while reading through my last night's post, I apostrophized the word "reason" in order to make it plural: "reason's." I, of all people abhor the misuse of simple apostrophes in writing SO much--I was appalled to have discovered that I made that sort of slip myself on my own page. I was so embarrassed. Ugh.

On the same side-bar, I was trying to type the word "street" just a few paragraphs up and knew my fingers were going to have trouble (my nails are a little too long for accurate keyboarding) so I concentrated really hard on getting the word out without any spelling errors. So out comes the word with perfect spelling--only it's the wrong word--I went and watched myself type "stress" instead of "street." Freudian slip? Perhaps.

And now, believe it or not...sleep. I am going to sleep. I've got full day of losing my head tomorrow, before (yay!) leaving to watch the Canadian Men's Volleyball team again take on Brazil this time in Mississauga! I'll DEFINITELY find energy for THAT!

Perpetual movement

I feel like I haven't stopped going in years. As my previously posted schedule indicated, of all of the days in the week, I have Tuesday, and Tuesday alone, off from sports. Not posted was my full-time job and my every-night commitment of help to direct the volleyball club for this year.

I. Am. So. Tired.

But I love it. I love playing and I love doing and I love being involved. As exhausted as I am, I think I'm more likely to wimp out on work (don't tell!) than I am to wimp out on sports or my club. I can't begin to tell you how much I look forward to Tuesday nights to unwind via a leisurely stroll or a complete veg-out-with-phones-turned-off in front of the tv.

And all of these scheduled events don't include joining in on the unscheduled social events that take place throughout the week either. For example, last night, we celebrated a friend's birthday at the local bar. Most nights after practice, there's some food eating to be done en masse. Beers to be had after work but before practice. Clubs to be danced at, tournaments to be played. Sometimes I ask myself, why don't you just say 'no' to some of these things and either get some work done, or get some rest? The answer is that I just can't.

I might MISS something.

Heaven forbid. I'll sleep when I'm...no longer capable of performing normal functionality.
...

Quote of the Moment:

"Don't poke those [love handles]! Those are my fat reserves for in case I ever get skinny!"
    --Moi, being overly comfortable at work

If I go to sleep now, I will be sleeping 20 minutes earlier than I have been doing all week!

For the love of the game

Sunday - baseball game & volleyball practice (every other week)
Monday - volleyball practice
Tuesday - rest
Wednesday - volleyball practice
Thursday - volleyball league games
Friday - volleyball practice (every other week)
Saturday - volleyball tournament or fundraiser
...repeat.

My body is so angry at me that I don't think there's going to be any reconciliation in the near future--not at the pace we're going. The arches of my feet hurt, my calves are tight, my knees ache, my quads burn, the small of my back sears with pain, my shoulders and arms are sore. I feel alive. I love it.

Quotes of the Weekend:

    "Oh hey, look! Greek Myths! I love these things--and they're translated by Robert Frost too; he's supposed to be good!"
    "Wha...?"
    "How come they're in this book case, mom? That's a weird spot for them." *I begin to reach for one of the volumes*
    "Oh, no, wait, you can't read those! They're holding up the shelf above!"
...

I am such a geek (c'mon, Greek Mythology for fun?) and my house is so ghetto. Mom and I had a good laugh.
...

    "PerfectGame (a female), our kissing monster mascot is SOOOOOO cute!"
    "I KNOW! If something were ever to happen to his dad, I think I'd have to step up and marry his mom."

...

This kissing monster is just the cutest, sweetest little thing EVER! AND he's soooooo well-behaved! How I haven't devoured him during one of our tournaments yet is simply a miracle of nature.
...

Volleyballer11 and I headed out to London this Friday to catch the first match of the Men's National Canada/Finland volleyball game. While the teams were warming up, balls would go flying around the arena and the young volunteers would have to go and chase them down in order to return them to the court. A few whizzed by our seats, though none actually landed in our laps--as hard as I hoped they would have. After watching a while, I leaned over to VB11 and told her that if one happened my way, I'd snatch it and stuff it under my shirt, and if they came to question me for it, I'd just pretend that I had nothing and that the bulge under my shirt was normal. That's when, with perfect timing and tone, VB11 pretended she was me speaking to the ball chasers and said:

    "What do you mean you want my baby?!

I died. I think everyone in the whole stadium heard me.

Quote of the Moment:

"...and he put his sword through his heart and gave it to the dragon and said my love is in here. Take it."
...

I love Heroes.

Update: 2am

I'm home from all my volleyball and socializing and decided to get this quote down right. With a heavy heart (yeah right) I sat myself down and watched the Landslide episode again and got it all.

Hiro Nakamura:

Kensei and the dragon.

Takezo Kensei longed to unite Japan. He went to the dragon of Kiso Mountain and asked the dragon to teach him the secrets of the sword. The dragon taught him to become the kensei—a sword saint. He fought his enemies and won, saving his people. Then, the dragon came to his palace, demanding the life of the princess. Kensei drew his sword and plunged it into his own heart. He handed it to the dragon and said “my love is in here; take it.” And then he died.

I seriously don't want the season to end. But, in a conversation with a coworker today, we decided that even if they ended the series as a whole after this next episode, the entire season itself was so awesome, we could consider ourselves satisfied with a job well done. One of the most refreshing things about this series was the reminder that we didn't all have to be obsessed with reality tv anymore. Creativity, imagination, and fantasy still exist and can enrapture us all.





What's so hard to believe about there being unsung heroes among us? Everyone has a hero--you know you do. But what's truly spectacular is knowing that each of us, as normal as we may feel, has the potential to be a hero to someone else.