In my defense, it was very dark outside. I wanted to keep sleeping well past the second slap of the snooze button at 6:20am, but I knew I was already in the bad place where taking a cab would be the only way to arrive punctually at the office. So I got creative. I thought it would be easier to cajole myself out of bed if there was motivation. Dressing like a cowgirl seemed to fit the bill.
It didnâ€™t seem too drastic: embroidered red leather boots, long denim leather-trimmed skirt, brown western shirt with lace trim and a long red duster. Itâ€™s not like I wore a Stetson to work. However, upon entering the Legislature to audit a press conference on racism and national security threats, the guard on duty waved and yelled, â€œHowdy, pardner!â€ It then occurred to me that I would likely be on national television tonight, and that my identification badge clearly marked me as a government-employed cow wrangler. Not very professional. When I entered the media studio, the press gallery turned and stared at me as one: there were some arched eyebrows. For the love of heaven, somebody get me a new job. Sadly, my interview for this one is tomorrow. If I win the competition, I get benefits, and thus new glasses. I may also commit seppuku within 2 months.
Interruption: I must keep a promise I made to my poor, abandoned Mum who hasnâ€™t seen me in three weeks and is curious about the new, improved fiery locks. I will publish two photos of the latest dye job. Apologies for the blatant self-exhibition.
This is promising to be a busy week. I was originally planning on visiting my dear friend Dave at his hopping new pad in Manhattan, but circumstances changed and Iâ€™ll be putting off my trip to NYC for another couple of weeks at least (there is also a tentative Colorado trip to the Lock family ranch in the works, which may never come to fruition but man, what a great vacation that would be â€“ mmmâ€¦. mountains).
Now plans include a trip to the Harbourfront Centre tomorrow to see the talented Peter McGillivray, baritone extraordinaire, kick-ass winner of the CBC Young Artists competition, and Polka King of my Heart. Peter and I go way back, back to the days when he was a lowly Poli. Sci. student, a mere shadow of the opera superstar he has grown to be, and I was a fickle young English major, with a wacky hairdo and a lot of pez dispensers. Our usual social interaction is limited to drinking beers on rooftops, but weâ€™re branching out.
On a more community service-oriented front (the new hair really has turned me into a post-makeover Joan-of-Arc!), Iâ€™ve got an appointment with the CNIB to resume my old after-work position doing audio recordings for the blind starting next week. Christieâ€™s new emergency ward volunteering position got me all fired up, and I think I am now on a volunteering binge. All volunteering, all the time. So much so, in fact, that I let Peter from the Beguiling strong-arm me into helping organize the 2005 TCAF street party. Oh, who am I kidding, I was ecstatic that he asked. While I was staying in France a couple of years back, my friend from Shakespeare & Co., Caroline Castanet, and I organized a comic book festival in Paris. I only helped out a little bit, but it was incredibly fun, despite my rather weak grasp of French illustration and design lingo which made getting posters printed a serious challenge. “Uh, le ‘font’? C’est… mal? Votre travail dans le Photoshop est comme un petit enfant? Vous… suck?”
Must leave work now. There’s blue shadows on the trail…