Don't come to my house today. Don't knock, don't call, don't deliver any packages or ask me for a cup of sugar; I'm not answering the door, the 'phone or any questions except those pertaining to Lisbeth Salander.
I'm now the proud owner of the paperback version of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, third in Steig Larsson's Millenium series. I plan to read it cover to cover today.
It's been hard waiting for my mother to return from her latest European sojourn with the book, since the hardcover came out this side of the pond, months ago, and I could have read it several times by now. I've waited because I don't want to buy the hardcover just to have it sit next to the paperbacks of the first two books on my shelves. Yes, it might seem silly, but since I'm going to read this series, like, nine times, it seems to me the volumes might as well match. (note to smug e-reader people: please, I'm not ready!)
I don't have much time to spare before I dive into the book, but my quick advice to you, even if you don't like mysteries, horror or whatever genre you think the series everyone else on the planet is reading right now might be, is this: get over it.
These are awesome stories and I can't wait to find out how it all ends!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
August 27, 2010- Counting
I'm not going to harp on and on about the Hunting Weight thing. We all know there's little in this world more annoying than a recently converted dieter talking loud and long about their newly-formed and soon-to-be-abandoned habits.
However, two observations:
1: It is difficult to maintain a calm, cool and collected yoga-type focus-on-your-breath mindset while getting a face-licking from your dog. Especially while in 'downward facing dog' pose.
2: The McDonalds website makes you look through pictures of menu items if you're looking up nutritional information. Part of my little club thing is to keep a rough count of calories consumed, and yesterday, while driving to pick up my mother from her latest international adventure, I succumbed to the allure and convenience of the Golden Arches. When I went to the website later to see how many calories I had taken in (plenty!), I discovered that in order to count the calories in those fries, I had to search through pictures of each menu item, find what I was looking for, then drag and drop it onto a little virtual tray. Only once I'd put the item on the tray would a chart detailing calories, fat, sodium etc., appear. I suspect some serious psychology was employed in the design.
By the way, have you seen the Angus burger? It looks delicious!
However, two observations:
1: It is difficult to maintain a calm, cool and collected yoga-type focus-on-your-breath mindset while getting a face-licking from your dog. Especially while in 'downward facing dog' pose.
2: The McDonalds website makes you look through pictures of menu items if you're looking up nutritional information. Part of my little club thing is to keep a rough count of calories consumed, and yesterday, while driving to pick up my mother from her latest international adventure, I succumbed to the allure and convenience of the Golden Arches. When I went to the website later to see how many calories I had taken in (plenty!), I discovered that in order to count the calories in those fries, I had to search through pictures of each menu item, find what I was looking for, then drag and drop it onto a little virtual tray. Only once I'd put the item on the tray would a chart detailing calories, fat, sodium etc., appear. I suspect some serious psychology was employed in the design.
By the way, have you seen the Angus burger? It looks delicious!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
August 25, 2010 - Hunting Weight
I think there might be a bit of a misnomer in the club I've recently joined. I am happily married and not 'on the hunt' at all. If I manage to get to what we're calling, 'hunting weight', it will only be because I have worked hard and been strong, not because I have an agenda. (I just want to be clear on that, honey!)
At my 'girls cottage weekend' recently, as it rained and rained and rained, a girlfriend and I got talking about our respective disappointment in our growing...shall we say, assets.
She laughed at the phrase, but then, at the end of the weekend, proposed she and I create our own little mission called the Hunting Weight Club. Together, we're going to inspire and push and monitor each other as we try to reach our respective goals.
We're still working out the details, but there could well be some sort of race or something fitness-y built into it at the end. For now, we're setting weekly goals for exercise and keeping journals of our food intake.
For me, the goal is to fit back into my wedding dress, which I was very disappointed not to be able to zip up on my first anniversary, several years ago. It's in the spare room closet and I feel as though it looks at me reproachfully every time I go in there to get clean sheets. I want to be able to put it on again by Christmas. If I make it, I might even wear the darn thing to Christmas Eve dinner! Why not?
At my 'girls cottage weekend' recently, as it rained and rained and rained, a girlfriend and I got talking about our respective disappointment in our growing...shall we say, assets.
She laughed at the phrase, but then, at the end of the weekend, proposed she and I create our own little mission called the Hunting Weight Club. Together, we're going to inspire and push and monitor each other as we try to reach our respective goals.
We're still working out the details, but there could well be some sort of race or something fitness-y built into it at the end. For now, we're setting weekly goals for exercise and keeping journals of our food intake.
For me, the goal is to fit back into my wedding dress, which I was very disappointed not to be able to zip up on my first anniversary, several years ago. It's in the spare room closet and I feel as though it looks at me reproachfully every time I go in there to get clean sheets. I want to be able to put it on again by Christmas. If I make it, I might even wear the darn thing to Christmas Eve dinner! Why not?
Sunday, August 22, 2010
August 22, 2010 - Review
I'm starting to question my loyalty to Team Jen.
I'm already planning not to see the Jennifer Aniston movie that opened this weekend, the one that has every tabloid screaming about her desire to have babies again. I just can't do it. I'm so sure it's going to be...meh. Just like everything she's done in the last few years.
Thus far, I've been unwavering in my support of "America's sweetheart" compared with that crazy, heroin-taking, blood-drinking, brother-frenching, serial-adopting cutter of a vamp, Angelina, but seriously, can't Jen just make one good movie, please?
Jennifer Aniston's string of less-than-moving movies is starting to make her co-stars less exciting, too. It's quite a feat to make Gerrard Butler and his awesome abs less than amazing, but somehow, Bounty Hunter managed to be equal parts lame, boring, predictable and dumb. And I watched it with a group of grown-up women- its target audience! There was not one laugh among us, not one! Sigh.
Just once, I want to see Jennifer Aniston and someone, anyone, in even one scene as hot as nearly any scene from 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith'. I don't think it's too much to ask.
I'm already planning not to see the Jennifer Aniston movie that opened this weekend, the one that has every tabloid screaming about her desire to have babies again. I just can't do it. I'm so sure it's going to be...meh. Just like everything she's done in the last few years.
Thus far, I've been unwavering in my support of "America's sweetheart" compared with that crazy, heroin-taking, blood-drinking, brother-frenching, serial-adopting cutter of a vamp, Angelina, but seriously, can't Jen just make one good movie, please?
Jennifer Aniston's string of less-than-moving movies is starting to make her co-stars less exciting, too. It's quite a feat to make Gerrard Butler and his awesome abs less than amazing, but somehow, Bounty Hunter managed to be equal parts lame, boring, predictable and dumb. And I watched it with a group of grown-up women- its target audience! There was not one laugh among us, not one! Sigh.
Just once, I want to see Jennifer Aniston and someone, anyone, in even one scene as hot as nearly any scene from 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith'. I don't think it's too much to ask.
Monday, August 16, 2010
August 16, 2010 - Rereading Romance
A tip for all you fans of romantic fiction: under no circumstances should you try to explain the plot of the novel you're reading, no matter how breathtaking, sweeping or epic the story. Your sweetheart will laugh. Or worse, he might try very hard not to laugh.
I have been reading a lot of quite serious non-fiction lately, but decided on Thursday afternoon to go with something lighter, and I found myself revisiting my collection of historical romances by the creator of the genre, Kathleen E Woodiwiss.
As I settled in to finish 'Shanna' last night, my sweetheart asked me to briefly outline the plot.
Big mistake.
The corners of his mouth started to twitch as I told my sweetie of the immensely wealthy and striking blonde with a streak of willfulness who lived in the 1780s. She decides to thwart her father, who has demanded she find a man to marry within a year or face marriage to a man of his choosing. The year is nearly up and she decides find a man of good name bound for the gallows. The plan is, she'll marry the prisoner in exchange for easing his last days, then get to be a widow, thus appeasing Daddy and getting freedom to eventually choose her own mate. That's the first ten pages.
He had to cover his mouth to suppress his laughter as I explained how the chosen prisoner demanded a whole night with the blonde beauty, then, after being betrayed by her, through a series of impossible coincidences involving many, many corrupt and greedy men, he winds up a bondsman on the Caribbean island owned by the father where he distinguishes himself with his knowledge of engineering, horses and business, becoming indispsensible to the workings of the island.
I didn't get into the pirates, the kidnapping, rescue, near-fatal injuries, the nursing back to health, the steamy sex scenes or declarations of undying love, mostly because my sweetie couldn't hear me over the gales of laughter.
The laughter wasn't coming from him- it was from me!
It all sounded so ridiculous when I said it out loud - why is it so captivating on the page?
I guess some things just don't translate. So, my steamy romances will stay on paper from now on, complete with the 'thee's and 'ye's that make the dialogue so delicious.
I have been reading a lot of quite serious non-fiction lately, but decided on Thursday afternoon to go with something lighter, and I found myself revisiting my collection of historical romances by the creator of the genre, Kathleen E Woodiwiss.
As I settled in to finish 'Shanna' last night, my sweetheart asked me to briefly outline the plot.
Big mistake.
The corners of his mouth started to twitch as I told my sweetie of the immensely wealthy and striking blonde with a streak of willfulness who lived in the 1780s. She decides to thwart her father, who has demanded she find a man to marry within a year or face marriage to a man of his choosing. The year is nearly up and she decides find a man of good name bound for the gallows. The plan is, she'll marry the prisoner in exchange for easing his last days, then get to be a widow, thus appeasing Daddy and getting freedom to eventually choose her own mate. That's the first ten pages.
He had to cover his mouth to suppress his laughter as I explained how the chosen prisoner demanded a whole night with the blonde beauty, then, after being betrayed by her, through a series of impossible coincidences involving many, many corrupt and greedy men, he winds up a bondsman on the Caribbean island owned by the father where he distinguishes himself with his knowledge of engineering, horses and business, becoming indispsensible to the workings of the island.
I didn't get into the pirates, the kidnapping, rescue, near-fatal injuries, the nursing back to health, the steamy sex scenes or declarations of undying love, mostly because my sweetie couldn't hear me over the gales of laughter.
The laughter wasn't coming from him- it was from me!
It all sounded so ridiculous when I said it out loud - why is it so captivating on the page?
I guess some things just don't translate. So, my steamy romances will stay on paper from now on, complete with the 'thee's and 'ye's that make the dialogue so delicious.
Friday, August 13, 2010
August 13, 2010- Pizza Friday
I'm a little afraid of publishing today's thoughts. I'm worried if I'm too enthusiastic in my praise, you might rush to my favourite pizza joint and in future, I'll have to wait in long lines for my weekly treat.
But....I like it so much, I just have to share.
Each Friday, my sweetheart and I get our supper from Mountain Shores Pizza; it's a small place in the fourth block of Collingwood's main street, and man, is it ever good!
Seriously, it's the best pizza in town, and we know because we did our own little non-scientific test over the course of several months. Starting last October, Sweetie and I ordered pizza from every chain, franchise and corner shop in Collingwood, after we decided Friday night at our house would be Pizza night in perpetuity. We even tried the frozen kind from the box, and once in a while, I made pizza from scratch.
Mountain Shores won, hands-down: the mushrooms are fresh, the peppers are fresh, the cheese is plentiful, the sausage just spicy enough and the sauce is unique and delicious and the whole thing is just... awesome.
It makes Friday my favourite night of the week. Not just because of the treat, but because I don't have to wonder what we're having for dinner that night.
Now, if only we could come up with a such a brilliant and tasty plan for every other night...Sushi Tuesday, anyone?
But....I like it so much, I just have to share.
Each Friday, my sweetheart and I get our supper from Mountain Shores Pizza; it's a small place in the fourth block of Collingwood's main street, and man, is it ever good!
Seriously, it's the best pizza in town, and we know because we did our own little non-scientific test over the course of several months. Starting last October, Sweetie and I ordered pizza from every chain, franchise and corner shop in Collingwood, after we decided Friday night at our house would be Pizza night in perpetuity. We even tried the frozen kind from the box, and once in a while, I made pizza from scratch.
Mountain Shores won, hands-down: the mushrooms are fresh, the peppers are fresh, the cheese is plentiful, the sausage just spicy enough and the sauce is unique and delicious and the whole thing is just... awesome.
It makes Friday my favourite night of the week. Not just because of the treat, but because I don't have to wonder what we're having for dinner that night.
Now, if only we could come up with a such a brilliant and tasty plan for every other night...Sushi Tuesday, anyone?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
August 11, 2010, Not a Minute Too Soon
My contact at the Ministry of Transportation tells me we're going to see heavy equipment back on the planned and much-delayed revamped Highway 26 in the next little while.
Has it been ten years since the project was announced? Or is it fifteen? It's hard to remember. What I do remember is the last seven years of being pretty sure the project has little to do with anything other than politics- both the start and the stall of it as far as I can figure.
For once, though, I'm tempted to believe the highway through nowhere might actually be finished one day. Here's why:
I went for a stroll along the Batteaux River Saturday afternoon with a group of cousins during a family reunion. (the naildriving competition was over and we weren't interested in the hayride...) As we checked out the inch and a half of water flowing over the area we call 'flat rock', we spied, in the middle of what looks to be a field, an overpass. No road on either side of it, mind you, but an overpass nonetheless. It was like a scene from Legend, the futuristic dystopia featuring Will Smith, with overgrown roads and no traffic. Truly. Bizarre.
While were were having a walk around and under the overpass, trying to imagine how a four-lane road was going to fit on its rather small width, and checking out the predictably obscene yet somehow boring graffiti, a pickup truck rumbled along. An official-looking type guy got out to snap pictures of the overpass, the river under it and a space beside it.
Afterwards, as he drove on the overpass, he told us there would be a second overpass built to accommodate westbound traffic. It would go a few yards to the east of the one we were standing on. He explained that he was a worker for the company which had won the tender, and work would be starting in the next couple of days.
Finally. Simcoe Grey's highway boondoggle might be about to come to an end, and if the timelines come to pass, two years from now, you'll be able to get from Collingwood to Stayner really fast.
Thank Goodness! It's so very important to hurry so you can get to the Airport Road/26 all-weekend-long bottleneck and practise your cursing.
Has it been ten years since the project was announced? Or is it fifteen? It's hard to remember. What I do remember is the last seven years of being pretty sure the project has little to do with anything other than politics- both the start and the stall of it as far as I can figure.
For once, though, I'm tempted to believe the highway through nowhere might actually be finished one day. Here's why:
I went for a stroll along the Batteaux River Saturday afternoon with a group of cousins during a family reunion. (the naildriving competition was over and we weren't interested in the hayride...) As we checked out the inch and a half of water flowing over the area we call 'flat rock', we spied, in the middle of what looks to be a field, an overpass. No road on either side of it, mind you, but an overpass nonetheless. It was like a scene from Legend, the futuristic dystopia featuring Will Smith, with overgrown roads and no traffic. Truly. Bizarre.
While were were having a walk around and under the overpass, trying to imagine how a four-lane road was going to fit on its rather small width, and checking out the predictably obscene yet somehow boring graffiti, a pickup truck rumbled along. An official-looking type guy got out to snap pictures of the overpass, the river under it and a space beside it.
Afterwards, as he drove on the overpass, he told us there would be a second overpass built to accommodate westbound traffic. It would go a few yards to the east of the one we were standing on. He explained that he was a worker for the company which had won the tender, and work would be starting in the next couple of days.
Finally. Simcoe Grey's highway boondoggle might be about to come to an end, and if the timelines come to pass, two years from now, you'll be able to get from Collingwood to Stayner really fast.
Thank Goodness! It's so very important to hurry so you can get to the Airport Road/26 all-weekend-long bottleneck and practise your cursing.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
August 10, 2010- Drawing Profits
Hmmm...horse-drawn carriages in downtown Collingwood?
They'll be operating by the end of the week, providing tourists and perhaps a few romantic locals with a chance to ride around the town sans engine. It's kitschy, but kinda cute, too.
I'm divided on the issue.
On one hand, I avoided the Village at Blue for the longest time, objecting to its fake facades (really, a fake fire hall? come On!), until I had an awesome meal at the Greek place, with a calibre of dining we never would have enjoyed without the massive development, Disney-style or not.
On the other hand, seriously, horse-drawn carriages? Are we completely out of cliches?
But then, I think about Frankenmuth, Michigan, a little nowhere town in the most depressed state in the US. I was there as a tourist a few weeks ago. While much of the rest of Michigan is sad, dilapidated, falling apart and unemployed, my friends and I had trouble getting a table at a patio on the very crowded and admittedly very kitschy main street on a Wednesday night.
While we were there, spending our money, a horse-drawn carriage passed by.
They'll be operating by the end of the week, providing tourists and perhaps a few romantic locals with a chance to ride around the town sans engine. It's kitschy, but kinda cute, too.
I'm divided on the issue.
On one hand, I avoided the Village at Blue for the longest time, objecting to its fake facades (really, a fake fire hall? come On!), until I had an awesome meal at the Greek place, with a calibre of dining we never would have enjoyed without the massive development, Disney-style or not.
On the other hand, seriously, horse-drawn carriages? Are we completely out of cliches?
But then, I think about Frankenmuth, Michigan, a little nowhere town in the most depressed state in the US. I was there as a tourist a few weeks ago. While much of the rest of Michigan is sad, dilapidated, falling apart and unemployed, my friends and I had trouble getting a table at a patio on the very crowded and admittedly very kitschy main street on a Wednesday night.
While we were there, spending our money, a horse-drawn carriage passed by.
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