We spent the weekend up in Erie with Nonna and Pap-pap. And it was a non-stop whirlwind of adventure, not something I ever considered Erie to be when I lived there. When Nonna and Pap-pap get time with their grandkids, it's go-go-go.

We spent a good amount of Saturday at the CelebrateErie festival. So did many other residents of Erie and its outlying areas. It was hot and crowded, fun and chaotic. Bun had not napped well in the car, and had no intention of napping more at Nonna's. As a result she was a mess. Still mostly pleasant and fun, but when not, really, really not. Also, she did not want to stop moving. I think she strongly suspected in her very tired and over-stimulated 19-month-old brain that if she stopped, she would immediately fall asleep. She did not test this theory.

I mostly ran around with Bun while Monkey stayed with Nonna, Pap-pap and Soul Sista. (This seems to be the breakdown most of the time when visiting Erie. I'm on Bun duty, and Monkey just hangs out with whomever is around. I'm not sure if this is a good thing, bad thing, or indifferent thing. It just kind of is. But, for example, Soul Sista (SS) helped Monkey make a puppet while I handled Bun -- or manhandled her, depending on how you look at it [childhandled? womanhandled? personhandled? Sorry. Grammatical/Politically-correct-phraseology tangent there]).

Sunday was Church (again, I go into the nursery with a misbehavin' Bun; Monkey stays with Nonna & Pap-pap), brunch, bubbles and digging in dirt in the yard. When Bun passed out for her nap, we left her to Pap-pap and went to visit GG. Then back home to a newly awoken Bun and a scramble to get things together to visit Presque Isle, also known as The Beach.

I had (accidentally on purpose) forgotten my bathing suit, so I was on shore duty. I knew Monkey would go in the water with Pap-pap and/or Soul Sista (Nonna can' t lift Monkey anymore -- at least she shouldn't and I'm not ratting her out to her chiropractor).

It was Bun's first trip to a beach. Two steps onto Beach 11, she was bending down picking up handfuls of sand. She would let it run out of her hand. At first, she seemed a little thoughtful, a little puzzled. A little, "Whatever is this?" And then she got serious. In her swimmy diaper and nothing else, she set about to digging up the beach.

And then maybe she thought it would be quicker to just eat it. I am going to have to get that girl checked for pica, I'm telling you.

As fond as I am of Presque Isle, and as much as it's been cleaned up since I was Bun's age, the sand... well, the sand isn't pristine, white (or even tan) beach sand. It's a gritty, dusty mixture of dirt and finely ground rock. And Bun had it everywhere by the time we left. Including in her belly.

The kids were a little too tired for a smooth bedtime (especially as Monkey had overheard Nonna & SS ordering a "Rainbow Roll" and thought she just had to try that), but we got 'em down (after extensive sand removal procedures in the tub), and sat down to a late dinner of sushi. And beer. And then pretty much everyone passed out in front of the TV.

Sorry I didn't get pictures, especially of the Sand Eater -- forgot the camera. If Nonna sends me any, I'll post them. But that gets you caught up to ... well, two days ago. I'm a little behind. But laundry is coming along nicely!

Countdown to Burgh Mom's dinner: Two days.

auf

gar

keinen

Fall

vorenthalten kann.

Jetzt sag mir nur noch bitte einer: Raucht dieses Pelzteil in dem Video eine Bockwurst?

Ich geh jetzt meinen Kopf vor eine Wand hauen und in den anschließenden 40 Minuten werde ich die Tapete anstarren. Vielleicht ist er dann weg, der Ohrwurm.

For those of you who are unaware, I work for Sustainable Prosperity and Academic and Policy Network housed at the University of Ottawa, which promotes market-based approaches to the enivironment. I'm the Network Coordinator, which basicially means that I make sure that the Policy agenda and the Academic agenda match up, and coordinate all network activities. Due to the complexity of this project, I end up organzing a lot of meetings. Or...at least in theory, i'm supposed to.

The work group spits into four large sectors. We have our steering comittee (Our Board), the Policy network, which consists of select academics, industry, governement, and corporate partners, our funders, and lastly, the academic Network, which consists of 16 academics arcross canada. Within all of this, we aslo have a series of subcontractors who govern some of our many projects.

Originally in the fall,we were supossed to have basically, what i have affectionately termed "conference fest", which would have been a five day meeting bringing all these groups together. This event was to be tagged onto another conference and was supposed to occur kind of like this: othertwodayconference/ highleveldinneri'morganizingtowrapupothertwodayconference/ alldaysteeringcomitteemeeting/ twodaypolicygroupmeetingalongwithfunders/ jointdinnerwithacademicnetwork/ academicnetworkmeetinday. Clearly, I told them... this is insane.

This eventually turned into two different events named othertwodayconference/ highleveldinneri'morganizingtowrapupothertwodayconference/ academicnetworkmeeting and alldaysteeringcomitteemeeting/ twodaypolicygroupmeetingalongwithfunders, and the joint dinner got scrapped. They were to be as month apart, october and november, which was more doable.

Then, last week it changed to othertwodayconference/ highleveldinneri'morganizingtowrapupothertwodayconference and the academicnetworkmeeting moved to jan-feb, and alldaysteeringcomitteemeeting/ twodaypolicygroupmeetingalongwithfunders was still in november. Because our chair, who happens to be the director of the academic network, has decided to spend the fall in california with his wife who is on sabatical.

And Now, on monday, it has changed to othertwodayconference/ highleveldinneri'morganizingtowrapupothertwodayconference, and twodaypolicygroupmeetingalongwithfunders moved to jan-feb and academicnetworkmeeting in april. Because now the chair doesn't have time to think about it at all in the next four months. So essentailly, my fall schedule just freed up completely, and i suspect i will be bored out of my mind. Because i have to organize one dinner, and a steering comittee meeting, which takes like a week.

I wasn't at work yesterday, because Michał has turned into a viral incubus. So, I can only imagine how much things have changed since. o_O.

I forsee a very productive fall...

xoxo
irene

Dakara & Grey had an evening of brain-wrecking, manual work and then finally, triumph.

Yep we got down to actually making the ear muffs today. There were anguish, frustration, stupified moments, but in the end we manage to make something we can be very proud of. Well the product is not fully completed yet, but at least we've got the basics and prototypes done!

(Btw it's Grey hogging the blog again. ^^/)

And so we change the headband thingy red.. It was some tough work trying to wrap the red cloth around it. Had to determine the suitable length, width. We wouldn't want the headband part to look too fat ya?

Then the next important part, the panda faces! Gosh this took a great deal of brainstorming, hair-pulling, whatnot. First of course we had to decide the size, then the shape of the ears, shape of eyes, length of string for the mouth, how to stick the strings to the face so that the panda face don't look too spastic... The list goes on.

Presenting teh prototype~

And more were born just now (the real ones we'll be using). The faces are not yet done though lol.

I really have my family to thank. Especially my mum! She provided so much guidance in the sewing part. Without her.. I think our panda will not look as good as it is. Even my father and brother helped out too, in the sewing parts, mind you. I THANK YALL, really.

Now with the planning and experimenting parts done, completing the prop will be so much easier now. With that, I think this prop will be 100% done the next time me and Dakara meet.

-Grey, signing off.

Ein entspanntes Kochen gehört für mich zu einem guten, gelungenen Samstagabend. Ich habe Zeit nicht, dass ein Student praktisch immer Zeit hat und taue nicht nur irgendetwas auf, sondern gebe mir auch Mühe. Meist geht diesem Spektakel ein ausuferndes Extremshopping voraus, weil Sonntage auch überlebt werden wollen. Schön wäre es bei diesen Gelegenheiten einen Minielefanten zu besitzen, der die Einkäufe in die Wohnung trägt. So komme ich mir selbst regelmäßig wie eine Kamelunterart vor, wenn ich die Tüten hinter mir herzerre. Mehrere Male zum Auto laufen kostet einfach zu viel Energie und wäre ja praktisch.

Jedenfalls lebe ich nach dem Grundsatz, dass für die Zubereitung gesunder, wohlschmeckender Speisen, neben qualitativ hochwertigen Lebensmitteln, Wissen, Sorgfalt und Zeit die Hauptzutaten sind. Kochen macht Spaß und erfüllt den Bauch uns mit Vorfreude auf den Genuss. Gemäß dieser Maxime taue ich mir ein Steak auf, lasse die Dosenpilze für die Soße abtropfen, leere gefrorene Zwiebeln in die Pfanne und befördere die Tüten-Klöße ins Wasser.

So weit, so gut. Es kocht. Um mir die paar Minuten bis zum Endergebnis zu vertreiben, lasse ich den Blick schweifen. Er schweift über die Reste der letzten Völlerei. Schweift weiter. Fällt zurück. Fällt gen Himmel. Ich entringe mir ein leichtes Stöhnen. Also das auch noch. Das Wasser läuft in die Spüle. Das Steak brutzelt munter vor sich hin. Ich stelle das Wasser aus. Plötzlich höre ich das Geräusch eines Wasserfalls. Kurz bevor ich gedanklich gänzlich in diese Regenwaldatmosphäre  eintauche, besinne ich mich darauf, dass ich mich eigentlich in meiner Küche befinde. Schock. Ich mache die Tür unter meiner Spüle auf und starre von oben bis unten durchnässt auf das Naturschauspiel, dass sich mir bietet. Ich entschließe mich dagegen nach Japanern mit Fotoapparaten zu suchen, die diese einzigartige Sensation fotografieren und drehe erstmal an allen vorhandenen Wasserhähnen. Nachdem ich endlich die Fontaine abgestellt habe, bemerke ich einen beißenden Geruch und schwarzen Rauch. Super. Also kein Steak sondern Kohle. PERFEKT. Löschen ist ein bisschen doof, wenn das Wasser abgestellt ist ist zu gefährlich. Deswegen stelle ich die Pfanne erstmal weg, drehe den Herd ab und beschäftige mich in einem Wutanfall mit meinem kleinen Feuchtbiotop namens Küche-Bad-Abstellkammer, bevor irgendwelche seltenen Kröten auf die Idee kommen selbiges zu bevölkern und es damit zu einem Naturschutzgebiet zu erklären. Argh! Gut, dass ich gestern nicht gewischt habe. Nach getaner Arbeit robbe ich mich total durchnässt und geschwächt (kein Essen, anstrengende Arbeit) zu meiner Vermieterin und erkläre ihr, dass ich ein kleines Problem habe. Sie kommt natürlich sofort mit, um das Problem zu begutachten. Leider folgt ihr der kleine Köter süße Welpe auf den Fuß und rennt einmal quer durch die Küche und hinterlässt dabei eine Spur aus feuchter Erde und Dreck. Gott sei Dank können Blicke nicht töten, sonst hätte ich auch noch einen Leichnam beseitigen müssen.

Letztendlich konnte mir meine Vermieterin helfen, sie schickte ihren Sohn und knapp 1 Stunde später konnte ich sowohl einen geplatzten Schlauch, als auch eine saubere, heile Küche bewundern.

Und jetzt fragt sich der geneigte Leser bestimmt, ob ich was daraus gelernt habe?!

Ja, hab ich. Ich werde NIEMALS mehr, also wirklich NIEMALS mehr behaupten, dass mir langweilig ist und nichts passiert! ;-)

Had an annoying day today, but the first half was good. Got a mail stating that I will be posted out of my misery and to a new unit. Quite excited and pretty nervous at the same time. That was the good part, and then got some shit at the very last minute. Seriously last minute.

Any ways, did something I thought I wouldn't do for a pretty long time - sending a message. Ah I don't know what to say about it, but I definitely hope that I don't get let down. Keeping the faith. 

Reached home at an ungodly hour of 9pm - ok fine, not that late. Had a late dinner and then now I'm about to fall asleep. Sigh.

Going to be busy tomorrow. I remember a friend telling me that it's at times like these, where we need a text message telling us that everything would be fine or a hug or a snuggle just to make things seemingly a little better. 

Come what may....

Chuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuupa!!!!

Argentina 3 x 0 Brasil

We bloggers - especially those of us with circulations under, say, 40 - toil for love, (and whether by that I mean self-love is for all 39 of you to decide), and are by no means immune to the gentle lauding of kith and kin. So as I sat reading these happy comments on a blog that is in point of fact mouldering, a discernible warmth soothed my breast. I resolved to blog again, furiously if fitfully, with purpose, or even better, without. I stand before you, 39ers, bearing my addled, silly soul. Judge me harshly if you must, I will love you all the same for having just shown up. I am a lousy and unfaithful servant in the blog trade. You can do better than this and it pains me only slightly that you do, day in, day out. But every now and then I promise to keep showing up, whether with Judy Johnson perched atop my head, or with Dewar's-induced slurred typing, or with contemporary opera (that most awful of phrases) on my brain, and have a hardy spew for your and my benefit. I will blog without photos, without sensical titles, without warning. My blog matters, it's been here almost 2 and a half years, and doggonit I'm good enough, strange enough, and deluded enough to age it further. 

Was I saying something? Might have been. More next time, faithful readers and friends. Forgive me and accept me, as you know I would you.

They gave him an injection first to stop the nausea, and then some tablets, but on the way back to the hotel he threw them back up so we went back and now he´s on a drip getting fluids. I´ve heard the term amoebic dysentry mentioned. Eeek. He´s had other injections, one of which made me want to hit the woman doing it because she caused him so much pain. His colour is looking a lot better and he was making lame jokes when I left so I think he´s coming around. I just felt very useless earlier and I hate seeing people in pain and not being able to do anything.

I´m going to have a lie down then see how he is. Hopefully we will both be back on form tomorrow to make it to Antigua. There´s really nothing to do to kill time here in Chichi.

In komatöser Sauerstoffunterversorgung verbringe ich also die letzten zwei Stunden bis zum Weckerklingeln, wie eine Schlafwandlerin steige ich unter die Dusche, ziehe mich an, fahre mit dem Auto zur Arbeit, weil ich viel zu spät dran bin, werde von dem blöden Typen vom Bio-Institut angemacht, weil ich mich in meiner unausgeschlafenen Döspaddeligkeit auf die heiligen Institutsparkplätze gestellt habe (KackeHaltdieFresse!KackeHaltdieFresse!!). In der Mittagspause begieße ich mich mit WanTan-Suppe extra scharf aus der Tüte und genehmige mir nach dem Essen eine Extraportion Schmerz, indem ich ein Menthol/Eukalyptuskaugummi kaue. (KackeKackeKacke!)

Auf dem Nachhauseweg ist es mir, als hätten alle heute Morgen MC Winkel gelesen und beschlossen, in der Stadt, in der sonst bei gelber Ampel Gas gegeben wird, mal den Ausroller zu geben. Ihr kennt das sicher, wenn so ein Tag erst mal schiefläuft, dann aber richtig. Ich fahre also auf dem Nachhauseweg einen Umweg und besuche meinen Lieblingsdiscounter. Auf dem Parkplatz begegne ich meinem Ex mit neuer Freundin und neuem Kind und muss mir, unausgeschlafen, mit WanTansuppe bekleckert (deswegen mit Jacke und deswegen schwitzend und noch übler gelaunt als ohnehin schon), mit dicken Augenringen behaftet, vermutlich nach WanTansuppe riechend und extrem schlecht gelaunt die niedliche Kleinfamilie angucken und habe Mühe nicht (KackeHaltdieFresseKackeHaltdieFresse!) ein Exempel an ihm (dem Ex) zu statuieren. Stattdessen (har!) bewundere ich in den falschesten Tönen das Baby, welches auch prompt zu schreien beginnt (ja, schrei nur, ich bin die dreizehnte Fee! HA!!) und natürlich das neue Auto von Mr. Ich-fahr-Alfa-bis-ich-sterb: einen roten (ROT!!!) Passat. Kombi. Das hebt meine Laune soweit, dass ich auf weitere Gemeinheiten verzichte und nach Hause fahre. Gemein, ich weiß, aber (KackeHaltdieFresse!) da trifft es nicht den Falschen, versprochen!

Kaum bin ich zu Hause, klingelt mein Handy und ich reiße mir beim Versuch das Handy aus der Tasche zu angeln (liegt natürlich ganz unten, unter den Einkäufen!) das Nagelbett auf und blute auf den mit WanTansuppe bekleckerten Pulli. Am Telefon: Ein CallcenterAgent, zwar mit entzückendem französischen Akzent, der mir PORZELLAN verkaufen will. Ich beginne hartnäckig zu fragen, woher die renommierte Porzellanmanufaktur in Frankreich, von der ich noch nie etwas gehört habe, meine Telefonnummer und meine Daten hat. Als ich zum vierten Mal die Antwort bekomme, die Telefonnummer habe man von ebenso renommierten Handelspartnern in Deutschland, deren Namen man allerdings nicht nennen könne, da...richtig:

KackeHaltdieFresse! hab ich aufgelegt. Einfach so.

That is all.

:)

Was, wenn eine Note fehlt? Was, wenn ein Bereich nicht abgedeckt wurde? Was, wenn...?

Heute war es nun soweit. Die letzte fehlende Note erreichte mich, der Schein wird nächste Woche pünktlich eingereicht, alles in Ordnung. Wäre da nicht dieses Hin und Her wegen eines Anerkennungsantrages für eine Lehrveranstaltung. In einer verwirrenden Email wurde mir mitgeteilt, dass ich mir Lehrveranstaltung X nicht für mein Nebenfach Y anerkennen lassen könne, da sie nicht das Themengebiet Y beinhalten dürfe. Blablabla. In der Prüfungsordnung steht davon aber nichts! So. Das kann ja wohl nicht wahr sein! Einen kleinen Nervenzusammenbruch und etliche Tränen später schrieb ich meine Verwirrung. Und nun heißt es wieder warten. Und zwischen den kleinen panischen Herzaussetzern leben. Alles scheint am seidenen Faden zu hängen. Und niemand an dieser gottverdammten Uni scheint einen Plan zu haben. Man schickt mich von A nach B über G² und 4,6; jeder verweist auf einen anderen, der dafür zuständig sei und so weiter.
HALLO...?! WO VERDAMMT NOCHMAL SIND WIR DENN HIER?!

Note: By now, I assume we're all fully abreast on the Edwards "situation," and if you aren't, what hole have you been hiding in? (Check out this Associated Press story, Edwards admits he had affair after heated denials.)

While I don't condone his cheating - while his wife fought cancer, of all things ... not a cold or perhaps the flu, hell, even bird flu, but CANCER - I really don't see this topic as the public's business, unlike my fellow Tribune employees. I felt the same way about the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal of the '90s. What an individual, public figure or otherwise, does sexually behind closed doors is simply none of my concern.

Thus arises the question, "if he's putting himself in the public eye, doesn't his infidelity then become public information?" To an extent, this is a logical thought, and a person thrusting him/herself into the spotlight should realize the lack of privacy his/her life would then carry. However, at what point does the media's desire for scandalous news like sexual activity become little more than titillating chatter?

As a reporter, I should have this inward desire to hunt for the truth and expose people like Edwards who claim faithfulness to their spouse despite evidence pointing elsewhere. But when it comes to a topic like sex, I don't feel as though it's my place to pry into a public official's life for the truth. That is an issue that should be handled by a husband and wife - perhaps the immediate family, if necessary - and not one that should be picked at by society.

Yes, he lied, repeatedly, to the media about his 2006 affair with campaign staffer Rielle Hunter. And clearly he has lost the trust of many people as a result. But was it ever truly the public's information to know? What right did they ... we ... have over knowing Edwards' personal life, personal mistakes and personal drama? Once admitting his affair late last week, he claimed he told his wife of the affair. This was his statement:

"In 2006, I made a serious error in judgment and conducted myself in a way that was disloyal to my family and to my core beliefs. I recognized my mistake, and I told my wife that I had a liaison with another woman, and I asked for her forgiveness. Although I was honest in every painful detail with my family, I did not tell the public ... I was and am ashamed of my conduct and choices. With my family, I took responsibility for my actions in 2006, and today I take full responsibility publicly."

And why did he openly admit his error in judgment to the public? Because following The National Enquirer's (what a reputable source of information, eh?) expose (okay, I can't get a little accent mark to work!) about Edwards' infidelity, various media outlets would not stop hounding the man until he came clean with the truth. It was only a matter of time before he cracked, and clearly he did. But, as he blatantly mentioned, he already took responsibility for his actions nearly 2 years ago with his family, the singular source he needs to answer to on this planet.

My coworkers believed Edwards - as not only a public official, but a man who wanted to become our next president - had a right to be honest with members of this country. He owed it to Americans, and specifically the North Carolinians he represented as a state senator for many years, to be upfront and truthful in all his endeavors. And that remains accurate in his political moves, in my opinion.

But, despite being a senator and a man with presidential dreams, Edwards is still a human being ... a man, nonetheless ... who is apt to err in some fashion. In letting down the person he loves most in this world by cheating, it does raise questions - rightfully so - of his leadership abilities and the likelihood of disappointing people across the nation. But what line did we cross in forcing him to tell us? This was his own battle to fight, one he had to reconcile with his wife and family alone. Who are we to badger and pester him until he spills the truth to the entire world?

If you were to continue pursuing the thing you know you can't get, you'll be in for a world of hurt and lots of shit.

Life's unfair and Karma's a cunt.

Fuck!