Last night we were talking to a guy who owns a custom stair company in town. The way he spoke about it was beautiful. He was explaining how he uses shapes he sees in real life to design his projects. His favourite set (it's in a store in town but I forget which one) was modeled after the curve in his wife's back.

There's nothing more beautiful than that - a guy who works with his hands, loves what he does and is his own boss, funnels his creativity into the mix so that side is fulfilled, AND he loves his wife so much that he designs and builds a lasting monument to her, because that's basically what it is.

He was proud of himself. That's another thing I love: people who are proud of themselves when they genuinely deserve to be. There's nothing assholey about that.

So if you need stairs, I would go with the guy who loves what he's doing.

I also like listening to these one after the other

Confidential

This is a blog, as much as I hate the label. And it's about me, as much as it makes me cringe. And you are reading it, as much as you're pretending not to care. I know that's what you're doing, sitting back, judging me, your arms crossed, eyes scanning for any (of many) signs of selfish idiocy, yet inexplicably compelled to read on just the same. Yeah. I know you. You're me. It's like fingernails on chalkboard to me to write about myself, but it's all I ever do.

I just want to say, today, that it's a false notion that people don't change, or aren't capable of it. I have changed. There have been major tectonic plate shifts with entire mountain ranges disappearing and new ones springing up in previously flat areas. That's how it was; there hasn't been any one individually strong, life-altering event, it's been gradual. But is there anything more unstoppable than geological change?

Before

1. Cared about what the next person in line thought about my purchases
2. One-word answers to anybody I didn't know, and also to most people I did
3. Hyper aware of my physicality: my appearance, my stance, my size
4. Constant comparison of myself to others
5. Constant keeping up with gossip - living to know about others
6. Felt intimidated by a lot of people

After

1. Don't give a fuck
2. I had a 2.5 hour conversation with a stranger on the weekend, with no silences on either side. I didn't even ask her name
3. I'm good with it so don't think about it once I step away from the mirror, and I feel comfortable most of the time
4. I now admire people for who and what they are, and I don't usually enter into the equation. Their success does not take away from my potential, because there's enough for everybody, and it can only bring more your way if you help others
5. Don't want to know and find it annoying and mean - I never want to fill my mind with negative thoughts about others again
6. I... haven't been. The other day I felt no jitters at all while talking to who has to be in the Top 10 of world improvisers. A week ago I had a stare-down standoff with a big guy in his 50s, and it felt right that it could have gotten a little pushy. People aren't going to get away with being dicks around me anymore.

It's highly scientific, I know, but it is true, I have changed. The Winter of my discontent seems to have paid off, now that it is Spring again. Bring on the Summer of... getting into fights and feeling fabulous.

Maxfield Parrish

Last night's clouds reminded me of this:

Angelina's in there too, for being a bad-ass mofo. She has one steely pair of tits. I think tits should be the metaphorical equivalent of balls, what do you think?

A Tiny Hell

I've never been addicted to anything. I suppose technically I would experience withdrawal if substances like food, water, air were taken away. Essential vitamins and minerals. But I can't think of any non-essentials that would throw me into a tail-spin, were they to be taken away.

I've had a few cigarettes lately. I like it. If it wasn't unhealthy and nasty, I would totally smoke. It doesn't make me feel cool, it makes me cool for those few minutes it takes to inhale. It takes swell things and elevates them even higher. Don Draper is sexy, but Don Draper with a cigarette is faintworthy. Ugh smoking is awesome, aside from the actually doing it part. It tastes gross.

When we went to see Leonard Cohen in concert - by the way, I'm so glad we did! If you have a chance then do it! - he revealed that he's 79 now. As soon as he turns 80, he's taking up smoking again. Throughout the night he pointed whenever he usually would have a cigarette, with this or that song. That's a man who truly loves smoking and isn't a slave to it. He can stay away for his own good, yet remains true so that when the right time comes, they can be together again. It really is worthy of Shakespeare. Actually, in the Shakespeare version he'd die the day before his 80th, at 11:59 pm. Rats!

I don't love smoking; it's more of a hard-on for it. I've felt her up a few times but I only call her when I see others taking her out. However, I've had enough lately (3 in a week) that I had an episode of withdrawal the other day. I was mid-point on my run. I started feeling shitty. The air felt thick, my stomach felt a slight but constant contraction, and some sort of unfamiliar black emotion was building up inside my core. I had no clue what was going on, but because of my panic attack a few months ago (eyeroll - yeah, I know) I decided to nip it in the bud and call M to pick me up rather than an ambulance. Embarrassing.

While I was waiting for him, I realized that all I really wanted was one of those tiny white motherfuckers who were hanging out in a box inide his pocket. I wanted a ciggy. Now I know what addiction feels like; a tiny hell. Should I be a complete bitch and hate myself and everybody else for a few days to ride this out, since I haven't gone far, or give in and keep feeling good without ever taking notice of the monkey on my back? It's a crossroads moment. The Alanis-irony of it all is that I'm going out for a run right now to think about becoming a smoker (or not). Don't worry. The answer will most likely be 'not'.

All American

I'm a total fan of Canada. I own an HBC coat, sweater AND T-shirt, all with the iconic multistripe. CBC shirts, hats and bags. Not only that, I actually watch the programming and listen to the radio. I went through a long phase where I only read Canadian authors. I dig the beav (our national animal).

Lately though I've been craving things that are more typically American. I don't mean the actual America, I mean the idea. Elvis, apple pie, baseball, picket fences, squeaky clean 1950s, that sort of thing. A perfect version too, where everybody is golly-gosh-gee-whiz and there's no racism or sexism or unpleasantness. Basically, Pleasantville but with no downside. I want to live there for a while. I don't want to think about bombings or tragic death or worry about the world my kids will have to live in after I'm gone.