How young we were…

Lately, it seems my extended family has become obsessed with posting oooooold photographs of each other in embarrassing 80’s outfits.  Can’t say I’ve participated, since Mama Bear carefully hides the evidence in one of our home’s many storage areas, but I did stumble upon some very fun blasts from the past in our truckloads of Christmas tree ornaments.

The three little bears, while we were still little.

Notice a) my haircut – the exact one that my mother has always worn, b) my stylin’ shoulder pads, c) SMB’s (centre) face full of chocolate, no doubt due to his inability to hold a fork properly, d) the number of uneaten slices of cake occupying the table space around Cyborg (the two finished plates in front of me are obviously a poorly disguised attempt on the part of Cyborg to appear as though he hasn’t eaten anything yet… but you see he’s even eyeing the chocolate on the birthday boy’s face), e) we weren’t wealthy enough to enjoy three chairs so we shared two, and f) if I had the same hair today I would look exactly as I do in this picture – minus the puffy shoulders, for now…

Any other observations?

Breaking news: “Wedgy [sic] foils plan”

Since Mama and Papa bear decided they were above paying for the news in print form, I’ve been forced to stay tuned to important world events via Metro and 24 Hours. 

Classy, I know.

So I just couldn’t help but reprint this short article by Matt Kieltyka at 24 Hours, which ran today on page 3 – which is pretty much the front page, since there’s only one column of text on the actual front page, and the second is just celebrity gossip.  

See how eventful Vancouver is?  With the US presidential inauguration just days away, the ongoing turmoil in the Middle East far from over, the Olympic village controversy… clearly the following story is the most important.  Leave it to the definitive news authority that is 24 Hours to print this.  

Brace yourself for some high quality journalism.

Wedgy foils plan [Note: I always thought it was spelled "wedgie" - anyone with me?!]: A suspected auto thief is behind bars after his attempted escape from police was foiled by a Coquitlam resident Thursday night.  RCMP were watching a stolen Jeep when they saw a prolific offender get in and speed off.  Police popped the Jeep’s tires but that didn’t stop the suspect.  He ran to a nearby house and begged the homeowner for a ride.  Instead of lending a hand, the resident noticed police cruisers approaching and gave the suspect a “wedgy” until the officers arrived.

I appreciate being able to say that I “read the news” without having to think.

Now, if only I were so clever and bold as to give a wanted criminal a wedgie… someone give the guy a Bravery Award!

How my Blackberry has turned me into my mother

My new Blackberry is just the latest reminder of how I am ever-so-quickly evolving into my mother.

Not that this is a bad thing, because I’d bet a good sum of money that Mama Bear is the cutest one around.

But I’m certainly far from ready to face the inevitable truth.

I recently “succumbed” (as my nearest and dearest have called it) to the call of the Blackberry – not because I really wanted it, but because it was the fanciest deal I could swindle from Rogers after my beloved, trusted Nokia (the one with the flashing lights on the side) called it quits.  I was long past my three-year contract commitment, but I couldn’t bear to be hooked to Rogers, for whom I have never publicly withheld my extreme distaste, for another three years.  Especially with the upcoming changes in the telecom industry, which promise increased competition – I know!  Who’d've thunk it!  

But alas, instead of waiting to have my heart broken by what could only have resulted in the same oligopoly, I caved.

I tend to be late to such things.  Facebook?  September 2008.  Years late.  So you can imagine my resistance to the Blackberry’s complicated functions.  

I couldn’t change my ring tone for days.  (I can now proudly say that I’ve set it to the Entertainer… you know, the one that the ice cream truck plays when it circles the park, lurking, waiting for small children to covet its goodies.  I’ve even set the volume to “escalating” so it sounds like it is approaching!  Sure brings me back.)  And what’s the difference between the envelope and the envelope with the globe and the phone with the envelope?  Why isn’t my wifi working?  What’s a “battery pull”?  

And why is the start up guide so incredibly useless?!

And then I realized… I’ve become my Mama Bear.

The same Mama Bear who recently sat down at a foreign computer whose Internet Explorer home page was not automatically set to her email account.  So she had absolutely no idea how to access the page.  And when we asked her how she had been checking her email all these years, she simply replied, “How should I know?  It just appeared!”

(Note: I’ve been using my Macbook Pro for just over a year now, and I have honestly forgotten how to work a PC.  Not that I’m a snob in any way – just out of practice, which is why it was so hard for me to help Mama Bear figure out how to fix her frozen computer.)

The same Mama Bear for whom I recently set up a Gmail account so that she can chat with our faraway SMB.  (Sure, he’s a nanotech engineer, but he can’t work a damn phone card.)  The challenge is, beyond logging in (which seems self-explanatory but apparently isn’t, especially if you hit CAPS LOCK by accident!), the actual chat set up with the desired fellow Gmailer.  I thought I was explaining the obvious when I said that she had to click on SMB’s name on the chat box on the left hand side of the inbox so that she could begin chatting.

And she followed the instructions, leaned her face towards the screen, and said, “Hello?  [SMB]?”

Innocent mistake.  Humorous, yes, but I can hardly judge.  I couldn’t figure out how to fit all my fingers on the itsy-bitsy Blackberry keyboard… until I was so gently told that I was to employ my dear thumbs.  Which, despite their small size, still seem to be lacking the grace needed to navigate the letters accurately.

And I have to remind myself constantly, It’s a Blackberry, not a phone.  (Seems to be frowned upon to mix this up.)  

So I’ll save you the trouble, wave my own finger at myself, and in my firmest tone of voice, tell myself to “get with the program!”

Ah, to be too lazy to wait at the bus stop…

But as Martha would say, it’s a good thing, because I otherwise wouldn’t have this wonderfully entertaining tale to share with you.

So apparently not that much changes in two and a half days.

With TDH away on assignment, mountains of work rivalling the ones in his driveway, and several of my friends still “snowed in”, I was more than happy to remain in my pjs since dinner on Monday evening.

The problem is, the honeymoon had to end.  And so I was forced out into the bitter cold, all by my lonesome, to fend for myself against Mother Nature’s worst – to visit my physiotherapist.  (Speaking of which, I wouldn’t be surprised if business is exceptionally good right now; I can’t even count how many times I’ve ever-so-gracefully wiped out in plain sight of witnesses!)

Foolishly, I assumed that the monsoon angrily pounding our kitchen skylight would have washed away all remnants of the recent snowstorm that tore Vancouver apart.  But my naivete went unrewarded, as I found myself clenching muscles I didn’t even know I had in an attempt to avoid slipping on the ice – oh, it’s still there! – and falling flat on my face.

I could easily have waited at the bus stop and avoided such ordeals altogether, but I simply found myself too lazy to just stand there when I had two perfectly good legs as transportation.

Long story short (sort of), I made it there and back safely on foot (uphill both ways in three feet of snow, and barefoot at that), with only a few embarrassing slips on heavily-trafficked major streets.  But the best part of my trip (har har!) was the frighteningly ingenious move made by a darling, little old lady in a fuzzy lavender beret and bright red coat.

Confronted by gale force winds, which had me literally retrace my steps on several occasions and which I was certain wouldn’t let up before I found my way home, I lowered my head (am I not more aerodynamic that way?!) and pressed on.  But the little old lady couldn’t be bothered to contort herself in such an undignified manner.

Instead, she decided to draft.

Note: I have no idea if I’m using this term correctly.  I merely knew that something of the nature existed in the sport of cycling and thus decided to look it up… which was no picnic, since the fundamental idea behind search engines is knowing the term you’re looking for information about.  Nonetheless, for those of you who aren’t familiar with the term, shame on you!  Er, I mean, USA Cycling defines it as “Riding closely behind another rider, which creates a slipstream, or air pocket.”

By drafting, little red riding…coat was allowing me to expend 30% more energy than she would.  Must’ve got the memo that I needed to work off the entire batch of cookies I baked and then proceeded to eat.  Smart though; if I had thought of it first – and wasn’t concerned about any social repercussions – I would have done it too.

So why don’t people want to get old?  Personally, I can’t wait to get all wrinkly and clever!

Makes-Me-Happy-Moment #12

Those of you who have had the great pleasure of meeting SMB will know that he really doesn’t care for hair cuts.  (Not to be mistaken for hair hygiene though – he does wash it, and it is nowhere near Sopel-greasy.  But it gets really long.)

His excuse is that he’s away for school most of the time, apparently in a place where there is no place to have one’s hair cut…  And when he’s here, he just can’t be bothered.  It’s been four months since the last torturous session, and it will be eight months till he’s back in town again.  One year of hair growth at his rate… and it will likely be longer than mine!

Reading a Future Shop flyer over breakfast…

Roshenahuang: Did… you… hear… that they have a MULLET KIT for Rock Band?!  How awesome is that?!

SMB:  (nonchalantly) Yes, actually, I saw that. 

Roshenahuang: Well… why didn’t you buy it?!

SMB: Because I’m growing my own.

Duh…