[But I do want to say that there were things about work trips-luxurious king sized beds, television, internet access, a bathroom in my hotel room, being driven around everywhere, delicious hot buffet breakfasts, staff that asks you how you want your eggs prepared, and fry up a whole bunch for you-amenities I had begun to take for granted.  This trip was clearly intended to remind me that not all trips are fluffy blankets and decadent dinners (and desserts) at local restaurants.  Sometimes you have to walk 30 minutes to find a decent place to have dinner, and sometimes you have to learn to read maps because you have no coworkers there with you to tag along with, and sometimes, breakfast means cereal, yogurt, an apple, a granola bar and juice, very complete and filling, but not exactly pancakes, bacon and eggs.  And fresh fruit.  And your choice of juice.   And a hot cup of coffee or tea.]

I wrote about the importance of being prepared (and how this came up for the trip) here.

I wrote about being assertive and an incident with one of the speakers at the symposium that made me want to scream here and how I devised a plan to get what I wanted here.

I talked a tiny bit about a friendly cat at the end of this entry, but I’ll provide the whole story here if you’re sick of clicking:

My last morning there, I was loaded down with material for the day’s events, so I set my things down to adjust them, all under the watchful eye of a cat.  S/he suddenly got up and approached me and very politely extended a paw before beginning to paw through my stuff.  I am not a cat person, mostly because I find most cats are “unfriendly, nasty creatures” (that’s what it says in the dictionary beside the word ‘cat’, right?), but this cat won my heart.

I also ran across this creature on my way to dinner, strolling along like s/he hadn’t a care in the world:

But s/he quickly grew bored of me:

There is something about bathrooms that brings out profound questions and thoughts in people:

[If you had to add your own answer, what would it be?]

I convinced Nora to join in the festivities and that girl’s dance moves were hot!  She put the rest of us to shame on the dance floor, let me tell you (please note my perpetually askew glasses, yet another reason I need to get myself new lunettes):

Friday started off the friend-full weekend, and I was able to hang out with Rich and Ves (my married friends who put up with my incoherent ramblings so well that I wonder if it might be a paid position for them) on Saturday and Vera (who claims she’s going to update her blog regularly…hah!) today.

And now I’m home, my good deed of the day (driving my sister to and from work) complete, and Sunday evening stretches before me, free of duties.  My submissions for MIMI have been submitted, with the exception of two paragraphs that may be interpolated into one of the articles (based in large part on this entry).  I keep patting myself on the back because these articles are normally expected by the end of the month and here we are, the week before and I’m done! 

I will be interviewing a life coach for my Life Tips Daily website, and I was wondering if you had any questions that you would like to ask a life coach.  If so, please leave them in my comments and I’ll be sure to ask them!

It’s sad to think that many of those people who were killed this past Monday in Virginia looked forward to today for so many varied reasons, or perhaps they even dreaded today due to some hardship that they were expecting to face.  One thing is certain (I hope):  none of them wished to die.

When tragedies like Monday’s happen, I’m left with an overwhelming feeling toward the killer.  I want to stand in front of him, and ask over and over again angrily: Why?  What gave you the right, in your insanity/misery/despair/anger to take away the lives of others, innocent people who were living their lives parallel to yours, who were perhaps better handling the crap that life was throwing at them…what did they do to deserve this?  How can you take the life of another human being, and do it over and over again? 

I attended a wake almost five years ago, and saw the body of a young man who will never laugh, walk, or move again and that sight chilled me.  I do not understand how anybody could wish that state on any other person, how any one could cause that state to happen to their peers or elders.

I have not spent much time reading up on the aftermath of this event, but I understand that there were either signs that this guy was dangerous, or sick, or twisted.  In retrospect, in hindsight, everything is always so obvious.  I’m not saying it’s not worthwhile to piece things together but there is always that sense of “so what?  In this particular situation, it changes nothing”.

I grieve for the families that are hurting so much during this time and I am beyond grateful for my life.  I am thankful for family and friends.  I know that in the coming weeks and months (and hopefully forever, although human nature does not work this way) I will always put things in perspective, I will not sweat the little things, I will look at fights and disagreements with friends and weigh them against the big picture.

I will appreciate each day that I have here and make the most of it.  I want to be remembered for how I impacted people.  It’s truly the relationships with people that matter.

I don’t own a spring coat; I own spring jackets.  To the untrained, the distinction is subtle, to the fashionable it’s apparent:  “coat” conjures up visions of looking sleek, sophisticated, and put together, while “jacket” implies functionality and purposefulness.  When wearing a coat, you think of accessories [a pashmina or stole, perhaps?  gloves in a contrasting colour?] and there is a desire to coordinate; with a jacket you barely blink when you notice that said jacket clashes with your  pants [or perhaps I am alone in this analysis].

It’s easy for me to throw my arms up in the air and sigh that I don’t ooze “fashionable femme” because “plus size clothing is sooo unfashionable!”  This is only half true [you see, some designers of plus sized clothing assume that in order to have a weight that registers that high on the scale, you must be 6'9 or prefer shirts that hang around your knees]:  I see plus sized people who dress with panache and flair regularly enough to know that, unless they have a personal seamstress, even girls whose primary consideration when purchasing a shirt is “is it long enough to cover my belly?” can find clothing that doesn’t make them look 5 months pregnant and bloated.

[Which leads to another gripe about plus sized clothing:  why are there so many shirts with empire waists?  I've seen empire waists make a size six figure look lumpy, why would anybody think that this would be flattering on a female whose size 6 figure has a '1' or '2' in front of it?  Furthermore, if you're going to make shirts empire waisted, please ensure that the empire waist is generous enough that women of all bust sizes can wear them [this may mean having two different forms of empire waist bust sizes:  fat and flat, or fat and full]!  Not only can I not wear empire waisted shirts because they make me look enceinte, they also serve the dual purpose of forcing me to show off half of my chest if I wish to avoid having the empire waist seam cut across the middle of my bust. 

This is at least the third year that Reitmans persists in modelling 80% of its shirts after this formula of “let’s encourage people to inquire from our plus sized customers how far along in their pregnancy they are” and I just might get off my soapbox to write a letter to the powers that be :)!]

After my disappointing shopping excursion in TO, more research is required to discover where the stylish girls who don’t fit into tradional sizing hang out.  Either that, or I might have to bring my extremely lonely sewing machine out of retirement.