Kiss My Ash

scallops wear hats too

2009-07-12T12:49:00.001-05:00

office space

2009-06-30T16:31:00.005-05:00

what I wore today...

2009-06-16T13:03:00.006-05:00

When:
June 15, 2009

What:
Blue B.U.M. shirt from Wal-Mart - $6
Men's Carhartt work pants from Men's Work Wearhouse - $60
Gators from MEC - $50
Cruiser Vest - $120
Geotool and Pick - $180
Hardcore hiking boots - $300
Super sweet shades from Blink Optical - Priceless

does anyone even read this anymore?

2009-05-27T22:09:00.003-05:00

Unemployment + Poor = Cooking Club Challenge

May's submission was a White Chocolate Banana Loaf.

attempt #2 at donating blood:

2009-05-25T18:55:00.001-05:00

Iron - Good
Blood Pressure - Good
Pulse - Good

Nurse lady punching a needle through my vein - Not good
Friends passing out after successfully giving blood - Also not good.

We are disasters. I guess 3rd time's a charm.

for papa

2009-05-10T20:14:00.003-05:00

happy birthday papa

2008-12-16T21:43:00.001-06:00

omg...is this a recent post?

2008-07-27T20:39:00.001-05:00

The 2008 Committee Bay geos

yeah....well i drive a helicopter

2008-06-15T08:59:00.002-05:00

mom said i had to post

2008-05-20T18:07:00.003-05:00

Bathurst, Inlet, (Inuinnaqtun: Qingaun or Qingaut, Inuktitut), is a small Inuit community located in Bathurst Inlet in the Kitikmeot Region of Canada’s Nunavut Territory. As of the 2006 census the population was 0 as opposed to 5 people in the 2001 census.

i can make christmas cards too

2007-12-26T16:42:00.000-06:00

sisterly love

2007-11-27T22:06:00.000-06:00

Sister: Christmas list. Now. Otherwise, you're getting dust bunnies.

Me: dust bunnies are cute!

Sister: You are not helping.

Sister: P.S. LIST ?*#$&!#(?!

Me: I love you.

my posts are totally worth waiting for

2007-11-18T21:35:00.000-06:00

haha...

you said uranium.

marting luther king jr. 1963

2007-10-25T10:55:00.000-05:00

I had a dream last night that my wedding toast bombed and my own brother walked out on it.

Is that a bad sign?

eau de stink

2007-10-09T21:36:00.000-05:00

Dear lady beside me,
Please stop bathing in pools of perfume and hairspray prior to coming to the gym. It makes it even harder than usual to breathe while I'm working out.

Thanks,
L

we like to party - we like- we like to party

2007-09-21T21:21:00.000-05:00

My papa is sitting in the Bonus Room right at this very moment pre-selecting the "good tunes" in a pile of Ukkie polka CDs. The selected tunes will be put onto a CD for my big sister's upcoming wedding.

Of the song titles my current favourite is "Saskatchewan Wedding March". I wish I was kidding.

this conversation x 100

2007-08-29T21:22:00.000-05:00

Me: So my brother and sister are getting married this fall...

Various Random People: ....uhh?

Me: Not to each other.

losing my religion

2007-08-29T21:08:00.000-05:00

In my elementary school days part of my summer holidays were spent at a bible camp out in Caddy Lake. All of my memories of this time were completely pleasant. In fact I can recall no stigmatic or post-childhood crippling events ever taking place. (Don’t worry Mom; you’re clear.) My days were spent making crafts, rock climbing and suffering through the part of the day I hated most…. Nap time. Though Bible Studies wasn’t my favourite part of the day, it was tolerable. We sang songs, danced and prayed. I can remember coming back home at the end of the summer full of spiritual energy, curious about how religion applied to my life in the city.

Until one summer.

The last year I attended bible camp I discovered doubt. I found myself questioning religion. I began wondering who God really was and if he was real. If he was real, why had I never seen him or felt him? While in Bible Studies one cloudy afternoon I remember being told that if I EVER doubted my faith all I had to do was ask. So I did. I went for a walk alone every night after dinner. I went to the same place every night, sat down on a log and I spoke. I told God that I was beginning to doubt, that I felt like I had never really experienced him before and that I wanted him to show me that he was real. I asked for a sign. Nothing. Night after night. Nothing. And so…at the tender age of 10-ish; I lost my faith. Amazing that I can literally pinpoint the moment that religion failed me. Ironic that it was while at bible camp.

here lies "fudgy"

2007-08-27T15:56:00.000-05:00

Last night at about 7:30 pm my power went out. I patiently waited for electricity to kick back in. It never did. I thought about phoning Hydro to report the outage…but my phone didn’t work and I don’t have cell phone reception in the cabin. Patience is a virtue, or so I’m told. I waited some more. When the darkness began to overwhelm things I sloppily managed to take out my contacts, brush my teeth and crawl into bed. I think I probably woke up every hour as I normally do when things of minor importance consume my thoughts; but how would I know since I had no clock to tell me the time. I guess around 2:00am, I woke up and went to check on the stuff in the fridge. It was starting to warm up and things were beginning to melt. Things that included the last two… Fudgsicles. Mostly everything else was still frozen; but those Fudgsicles….they weren’t going to make it through the night. So I did what any sensible person would do. At 2:00 am; I ate one of the two remaining Fudgsicles. Don’t judge me.

Special thanks goes out to Manitoba Hydro who promptly took care of the outage this morning. I regret to tell you that no; the other Fudgsicle didn’t make it. However, in efforts of preserving perishables my milk is temporarily a milksicle.

skinny window

2007-08-07T22:04:00.000-05:00

Tuesday idiot move: Locking my keys INSIDE the cabin.

Tuesday genius move: Skillfully climbing up the terrace-like deck; popping the screen off the tiny window and successfully squeezing through. Good thing I’ve been biking lately.

stop drop and roll

2007-08-01T19:56:00.000-05:00

When I first started thinking about moments and their occurrence in daily life I was under the impression that they were a rarity. It wasn’t until I started stopping to appreciate the so called moments that I realized how often they actually did occur. It was simply up to me to physically acknowledge the said moment. And so; my mantra for this month is to stop and smell the moments:

1. Taking my first crutchless steps; one step closer to throwing the things in a fire. (No pun intended)
2. Taking my bike out for a spin after what felt like an eternity of paralysis.
3. Discovering the “Beach Path” which I will now refer to as my own personal beach.
4. Taking a well deserved work break to pick wild blueberries and raspberries.
5. Sitting in “Casey’s” on a Wednesday night (stripper night) with the boys from work. (And by boys I mean men old enough to be my father.)
6. Sleeping naked for the first time without the fear of someone randomly walking into my room. Even in Iceland; you never know who would just walk right on in.
7. Deciding it’s completely legit to pee in the lake of my own “private beach”.
8. Enjoying a cup of coffee first thing in the morning outside on the patio.
9. Lunch break = Jumping in the lake fully clothed after an extremely hot morning in the hottttt humid sun.

immobility sucks

2007-07-06T15:15:00.001-05:00

Today I successfully took one step...that's right ONE STEP!

I also dreamt about throwing my crutches into a giant pit of fire.

Where the eph is my July writing assignment?

I'm boooooreeeeddddd

summer work fun fact #2

2007-06-27T18:43:00.000-05:00

Bruises produced by a sprained ankle vary daily in colour.

Today's colour: Zombie vomit green.

karma

2007-06-27T18:40:00.000-05:00

My foot thunders toward the ground and I bulldoze mercilessly through thick forest. Insects fly assertively around me attempting to find a piece of fresh skin to latch onto. The heat is practically unbearable yet as I look up, I am inspired by the fortress of trees in which I am engulfed. Through my clothing I feel twigs and branches scratch my skin. I can’t help think about the microhabitats and animal nests that I destroy with each step I take.

…And then the carnage intensifies…

We plough through the forest de-rooting large trees that have probably taken decades to grow leaving a cat-carved path behind. Suddenly my small footsteps seem far less detrimental.

As I step off the cat to scope out the site we have strategically chosen based on geophysical data and geochemical analyses…

I fall.

Maybe it was because of the heat, maybe because of my dehydration or maybe I was just feeling tired.

I spun.

Spinning trees fading in and out of focus and a throbbing pain rushes up my leg. I try to stand. I fail. A big burly diamond driller lifts me to my feet and rushes me out of the forest.

Now left catatonic with a sprained ankle, a cast and crutches I reflect; I guess this is nature’s karma. Shouldn’t have squashed that little frog’s home.

office equipment I learnt to use this week...

2007-06-15T20:27:00.000-05:00

summer work fun fact #1

2007-06-07T19:59:00.000-05:00

My new cabin/home is fully equipped with satellite TV... including the Playboy Channel.

to do:

2007-06-06T22:02:00.001-05:00

1: Get picked up new boss.
2: Get a Prospector’s License.
3: Go to Best Buy to buy office keyboard and new DVD player for boss’ home.
4: Go to Safeway to pick up fully funded groceries while boss gets a haircut.
5: Drive into Lac Du Bonnet to drop off groceries and bags at cabin. Discover cabin is already FULLY stocked with food.
6: Drive out to mine site for tour of area.
7: Head back to cabin to end day. Make a pit stop at beer store for a 24 of beer and bottle of scotch. (Part of groceries/necessities).

homeless

2007-05-16T20:40:00.000-05:00

Sunday May 13th, 2007.

Packing Day.

Tuesday May 15th, 2007.

Moving Day.

My now empty walls look surprisingly white and horribly bare. They feel cold. The scratches on my hardwood floor look more obvious. My oversized suitcase and hockey bag appear out of place in the corner of “my” room. My room….for the next 12 hours at least.

Packing for me took place in stages. Saturday night was my first run through. I started getting a few things together, taking down pictures and mentally preparing myself for the large task at hand.

Sunday was stage two; full on packing mode. I condensed, seeded through and eliminated most unnecessary objects.

Stage three involved the physical act of stuffing EVERYTHING into my suitcases. At this point I had no mercy. I threw away clothing, old lip glosses and worst of all… shoes. Three pairs to be exact. No mercy. It was terrible.

The silver lining however, is that I currently have more space than expected which means I can go buy brand new shoes to replace the ones that I have lost.

Sunday May 27th, 2007.

Goodbye.

The end of my Icelandic travels. Eight months of amazing experiences... a plethora of emotions and memories which fit conveniently into two large bags. I pack away everything I’ve experienced and hope that when I return home for my travels that my memories will have remained intact. I hope that the lessons I have learnt will not have been altered or destroyed by the long journey home. I hope that these souvenirs will stay fresh in my mind forever. Though it will be difficult to finally say goodbye and to leave this little island, I look forward to my next travel adventure.

shadows are fun

2007-05-02T16:14:00.000-05:00

Making shadows at Háskóli Íslands with G.

emit

2007-04-30T16:02:00.000-05:00

No time

Time Magazine

Time signature

Real time

Father time

Quality time

Time out

Time travel

On time

Time capsule

Geological time

Lifetime

Time zone

Time Square

Taco Time

Primetime

Part-time

Time’s up

d day

2007-04-24T18:17:00.000-05:00

You would think that my brother’s 29^th birthday would be reason enough to post a well deserved composition of cheap shots and jokes directed at my brother’s expense. I would tell about the time he “flushed” my pet kitty down the toilet, or the time he “accidentally” threw me into the furious metal stationary bike up in the bonus room. I could write vivid descriptions of his offensive boy stink or the way he turns into Bill Nye the Science Guy the second you ask him anything science related. (Geology questions now being deferred to me). I could mention his childish behavior and the ridiculous comments he leaves on my blog like this one, this one, or this one. (See if you can guess which ones he submits...) Finally, I could explore his obsessive compulsive (AKA anal) tendencies. For example, even at a tender young age, big bro would separate all the candy we found on Easter morning into equal portions ensuring we would all get the same amount of candy in equal colour ratios. Five green jelly beans for me, five for big sister and five green jelly beans for big bro. (We took turns choosing the undividable goodies.)

This birthday is different. This time I’m away from him. The truth is I kinda miss him. Ana...errr... obsessive tendencies aside, he's actually pretty cool and I wouldn't trade him in for any other big brother. So this year I will hold back on the puns, and simply wish my brother a very Happy 29^th Birthday.

blatant disobedience

2007-04-21T11:36:00.000-05:00

The laws of the sidewalk are simple. When approaching another person, it is common courtesy for both walkers to deviate slightly to their right. This rule may be an exception in the case of the elderly, women with strollers, people with crutches or weird limps and... PEOPLE WITH LARGE BAGS.

The law is universal. Everyone knows it… which is why I am consistently amazed at the blatant disobedience Icelanders exhibit on a day to day basis. This daily defiance strikes a particular nerve with me. For the most part I rather enjoy my grocery shopping experience. I love the mixture of colour and texture; the bright red apples next to the green ones, the colourful peppers and the sharp lemons and limes. I take my time carefully choosing which apple is of the best quality. I hunt for bruises and irregularities. It’s an adventure choosing non-english labeled items. You’re not really quite sure what you’re going to get.

By the time I get home, my cheery mood often turns sour because of some cute little old lady who nearly side checked me to the ground and didn’t even bother to look back. What if I broke my eggs? Today however, something managed to cheer me up after my violent grocery shopping episode.

Melting Popsicles. By Meredith Allen. Heck Yeah.

i can't believe we wore the same outfit

2007-04-13T07:33:00.000-05:00

are you too cool for your own blog now?

2007-04-12T16:25:00.001-05:00

It’s not like I don’t have anything to write about... in fact I think I have too much on my mind right now.

1) I fly to London May 27^th. What the hell am I going to do?

2) A paper entitled: The Effects of fluctuations in the Thermalhaline Circulation system on climate change. (When did I become smart enough to understand scientific articles? Seriously.)

3) The Bjork and Hot Chip concert. My. God.

4) The weird smell coming from the corner of my room.

5) April’s Writing Topic: Time.

6) My insomnia.

7) My spontaneous desire to make spinach and cottage cheese pizza and then probably blog about it.

8) An amazing job offer to work with the Yukon Geological Survey which would require me to “postponed” any travel plans.

9) The overwhelming feeling that I have incorrectly spelt "postponed".

perogy sisters

2007-04-05T09:24:00.000-05:00

This proves that I wasn't adopted afterall. I knew it.

perogy queen in training

2007-04-04T13:34:00.000-05:00

Easter holidays at home are best celebrated by stuffing yourself full of perogies, holopchi and rye bread with kolbasa.. Since I happen to have an entire week off from school, I figured what better way than to attempt (for the first time on my own) to make….perogies. That’s right. Perogies. Blindly. Blindly because there is no recipe and I have no other choice. I decided to attempt to recreate my Baba’s delicious perogies based on her teaching me once over Christmas holidays.

Step 1: Boil the crap out of those potatoes. The softer the better.

Step 2: While the potatoes are boiling; make dough. Take some flour, some water and some oil. Work it until it looks right. (This is awesome.) Wrap it in plastic wrap and let it sit. I really have no idea why.

Step 3: Mash chopped onions and potatoes. Mash ‘em good. (Normally my Baba would fry the onions first with about a kilo of her home-rendered lard… I chose to omit this step. Obviously.) Let potatoes cool. So far so good.

Step 4: Roll out dough. Here’s a tip: If you don’t happen to have a rolling pin beer bottles work just as well.

Step 5: Cut dough into squares and begin to stuff perogies. This part is considerably harder. Since the dough’s consistency wasn’t quite right, this part was slightly harder than I had remembered. These are without a doubt the ugliest perogies I have EVER seen. I keep telling myself: “It’s not how they look, its how they taste.”

Step 6: Boil perogies lightly and fry them to taste. Serve with Icelandic Skyr. (Note: I am hiding a particularly ugly perogy under the four nicer ones. It was really deformed.)

Normally when my Baba makes perogies she makes 25 dozen per batch. I figure that if I had made that large of batch that by the time I reached the 14^th dozen, the perogies probably would have been a lot prettier. I guess I have some work to do.

the ultimate iceland experience?

2007-03-30T06:25:00.000-05:00

Bjork in concert.

hard candy

2007-03-27T14:03:00.000-05:00

While I would first like to go on the record of stating that I tried to make this month's writing challenge sincere and honest; I couldn’t do it without feeling over the top cheesy. And so, for lack of vulnerability and bravery I give you a horrible childhood memory. (Now particularly hilarious).

When I was roughly 6 years old, my best friend was two years older than me. She lived across the street and we played together everyday. On her 8^th birthday, she held a sleepover to which I was invited. (And allowed to spend the night).

Before bed, we laid our sleeping bags out on the floor in one single row and started to watch a movie. The movie? Candyman. For those of you who don’t know; the movie is about an old superstition suggesting that if you stand in front of the mirror and chant the name “Candyman” five times, Candyman himself will show up behind you and take your life. Candyman was incredibly scary, had a hook for a hand and breathed bees? Something about bees. It’s all somewhat blurred these days. Anyway, being the youngest among the older third graders I had to act like I wasn’t scared. When the movie ended and we decided to all take turns repeating his name in front of the mirror, I also had to act like I wasn’t afraid. One of the older girls went first to show us that there was nothing to be afraid of. She exited the bathroom smiling proudly with no marks on her body and no sign of Candyman. My turn approached. I bravely walked into the bathroom and watched the door close behind me while the lights were shut off. I closed my eyes tightly and began reciting his name…

“Candyman.”

A pause.

“CANDYMAN!”

Just in this moment as I recited the name for the final time I felt someone behind me… breathing down my neck. Oh my god. I screamed and ran for the door. It was locked. Behind the door I heard the older girls laughing. I was panicked and this moment seemed to last for hours. Suddenly the lights turned on and I was face to face to my so called best friend’s little brother. He had hidden in the bathtub the whole time and was waiting for my turn.

Since then I have managed to overcome my fear of Candyman, bees and hooks, but I always check the bathtub for hiding pranksters.

don't forget to floss

2007-03-20T10:29:00.000-05:00

mad scientist

2007-03-05T16:33:00.000-06:00

Right now I should be studying. However, procrastination has led me to experimenting in the kitchen again this evening. With a severe lack of cooking utensils; (including measuring cups) I have found motivation to cook according to my own senses. Add a bit of this; observe; taste; adjust. Rest assure many meals have turned out extremely unsuccessful, including the time I tried to create less viscous melted chocolate topping by adding skim milk. The result was more of a chocolate Play Dough type mush. (Mmmm… Play Dough) Tonight I decided to venture into the wild that is the kitchen and attempt to create a hearty batch of carrot ginger soup. Carrots? Ginger? Soup? Awesome.

Starting with a batch of runny spiced mashed potatoes, I added grated carrots sautéed with onions and garlic. From that point on I randomly adjusted liquid concentration to achieve my desired texture and blindly threw in a blend of ginger, nutmeg and cinnamon.

Let simmer.

Next, I (again blindly) mixed a combination of flour, oats, baking powder, a dash of salt, milk and yogurt. When the consistency looked approximately right, I threw little blobs of my batter on a baking sheet and successfully made biscuits to accompany my hearty soup experiment.

An hour later I enjoyed what I would consider a successful meal and an excellent way to divert my attention from studying. I may be no Martha, but it sure beats a repetitious dish of pasta.

winter solstice and a revolution

2007-02-26T18:33:00.000-06:00

Whenever I am working on an assignment that requires me to submit some sort of written component (which is surprisingly seldom), I start by looking up various definitions of assorted words that I believe “define” my hypothesis. (Clap your hands if you love science!)

Two Solitudes.

First of all… I had to “wikipedia” it. (is that a verb now?) Upon “wikipedia-ing” (You better believe I just wrote wikipedia-ing…) I came to realize that:

1) I have not read the book.

2) I have not seen the movie.

3) I live with two very proud Quebecers…. In Iceland.

Step two was to ignore the initial definition and move on to find a meaning that best fit MY hypothesis. (I’m a real scientist now) I break it down in the smallest way possible so that even I can wrap my head around the concept(s) that are before me. It is a small effort towards discovering and defining my theory, and then proving it. (Is everyone still clapping?)

Solitude:

1 : the quality or state of being alone or remote from society : SECLUSION

2 : a lonely place (as a desert)

Are you serious? How about living on an island in the middle of the Atlantic? Does that qualify as seclusion?

I define solitude as 3 hours of daylight per day. I define solitude as walking to school at noon in darkness. I define solitude as a major supermarket that is sold out of apples. This just may be Seasonal Affective Disorder at its greatest.

Thankfully the Earth also tilts in the opposite direction and the declination switches creating days of eternal sunshine and a plethora of drunks walking home (or to the next club) at 4 am in broad daylight. These 23.5 degrees of tilt make all the difference and it is the tilt, the change of viewpoint that makes this solitude seem obsolete.

When I am tilting 23.5 degrees away from the sun, things seem bleak and heavy, but tilt my vision 23.5 degrees towards the earth and things suddenly seem a little brighter and a little less secluded. Although the Northern Hemisphere has not yet reached its maximum tilt towards the sun, a change is taking place and the lightness is becoming more prevalent. I guess it’s a scientific fact; it truly does take an entire 360 degrees for a revolution to occur.

silence is the wit of fools

2007-02-12T11:22:00.001-06:00

I have tried to keep quiet and I have tried to be unbiased. I have tried to understand: Two weddings in one year; my god. A spontaneous trip to the Westfjords has reminded me just how unbelievable this country is. It has pushed me over the edge and I’m afraid I can keep quiet no more.

NO ONE plans on going to Iceland. It is random and it is completely underestimated and no one really knows a thing about it. For example, the number one question I have gotten regarding Iceland is:

“What language do they speak there?”

Answer:

“Icelandic.” (Now don’t you feel kinda dumb?)

I have complained incessantly for the past 6 months but the truth of the matter is I am extremely lucky to be here. I am so fortunate to see it, to experience it and to learn about it. There is NOTHING like this place anywhere else in the world. That is a geological fact. I love the clean air, the eruptive geysers, the wandering sheep, the insanely varied landscapes and the overabundance of art.

Enter Mom and Dad. I sincerely do not remember the last family vacation we went on. I can barely remember the last time either of them took a holiday. It’s time. Recognize the opportunity; you have an experienced tour guide who is willing to work in exchange for food. Take this once in a lifetime opportunity to see a place that is nothing like anything you have ever seen before. They made it possible for me to be here, I owe it to them to show that it was really worth their efforts.

I fear that voicing my opinion will put pressure on them. I’m afraid that they won’t want to disappoint me if I tell them how much it would mean to me if they came here. I want them to experience it; I want to share this with them. They have two weddings to worry about and I understand that… I know that it may be just too difficult to get to Iceland! I can be silent no more. I am certain, you will regret not coming and I will regret not encouraging you to come; I will regret keeping my mouth shut. If the answer is “no”, then I understand, completely.

I see flights filling up, I see guesthouses becoming fully booked. It’s time to put the pressure on. Mom and Dad need to see Iceland. They deserve it more than any parents in the world. For always putting their children first, it’s finally time they did something for themselves. Isn’t it time to cash in on a vacation?

A photo from Westfjords: February 11th, 2007
How can you say "no" to this?

it smells like something died in here

2007-02-09T11:08:00.000-06:00

Þorrablót (Thorrablot) is Iceland’s midwinter feast. The menu? A legitimate Viking dinner. (AKA the worst food I have EVER eaten)

One by one, the international students piled into an ammonia stinking room and piled up our plates in order to reluctantly sample different Icelandic “delicacies”.

We started off boldly before any of us had the chance to back out. G, A and I sat in a circle with a large glass of soda next to us to wash away the taste and a small shot of Brennivín.

First up was:

Hrútspunga: Sour rams testicles. (Seriously) Surprisingly not terrible. Slightly sour but not totally disgusting. We’re doing OK.

Svið: Jellied sheep’s head. Oh dear god.

Sviðasulta: Pickled sheep's head jam.

These two kinda seem somewhat blurred together. They were both equally bad and enormously worse than the testicles.

At this point we take a short break and munch on some…

Flatbrauð: Flat bread served with butter and smoked lamb.

and

Rúgbrauð: Dark rye bread. (Almost black) "thunder-bread" served with butter and topped with pickled herring in a garlic sauce.

After a few sips to wash away the taste, we feel sufficiently ready to take on the next foods. (Why are we doing this again??)

Slátur: The general word for sausage. We tasted two varieties.

Lifrarpylsa: Pickled liver sausage

Blóðmör: Pickled blood sausage. (For the record, this was the worst)

Both sausages contain rye meal which encourages the sourcing process. Apparently the crumbly texture is due to extended pickling. The blood sausage made me gag, and I almost quit right on the spot. Dis-gust-ing. More bread needed.

Moving on.

Harðfiskur: Simply dried fish. (I can handle that)

Hákarl: Putrefied rotten shark. The shark is buried for approximately 3 months until it is ready and properly rotten. Why do I keep eating this?

The rotten shark is topped off with a well deserved shot of:

Brennivín - caraway schnapps, locally known as Svartidauði or "Black Death".

Sometimes my dad says that various strong foods “put hair on your chest”. Well I think it’s safe to say that those Vikings were probably real hairy fellas and I might be coming home a little furrier than before.

you do the math

2007-02-07T15:19:00.000-06:00

Things I bought today:

A new bottle of L'Oreal Happyderm Facial Cleanser
Cost: 900 ISK

Health Insurance for the next 6 months with a convenient 50 000 ISK deductible
Cost: 12 000 ISK

A brand new pair of Nine West shoes on sale from 12 000 ISK
Cost: 3000 ISK

(Now that's a good deal even in Canada)

why i write in 200 words or less

2007-01-31T13:28:00.000-06:00

First obvious answer: Because my sister made me. Thinking back to the “Ode to Blog Land” post (AKA peer pressuring little sister into blogging); how was I to say no? The post was like literary puppy dog eyes.

Upon deeper consideration the so called “literary puppy dog eyes” was really a literary nudge. Do I consider myself a writer? No chance. I do believe however that by putting into words my experiences and thoughts, my sister as well as everyone who knows me can imagine exactly how I would tell the story. They can imagine the awful jokes that I would present and they can imagine the stupid smile on my face when I laugh at my own jokes. (For example: the dorky smile that is currently plastered on my face for coming up with the term “literary puppy dog eyes”.) So for the sake of spreading a few more poorly put jokes that recognizably depict my persona and in order feel a connection with the people I love; I write.

i'm a legal alien (for now)

2007-01-29T05:40:00.000-06:00

Me: So I spoke with immigrations today about my Residence Permit.

G: Oh yeah? What did they say?

Me: That they're stupid and they hate Canada....

november 28th, 2007

2007-01-22T14:48:00.000-06:00

Outgoing 22 year old female with slightly obnoxious and sarcastic sense of humour seeking handsome and potentially wealthy young pup between the ages of 21 and 35. Must be able to cook, shotgun beers and tolerate shoe fetishes. No mutants.

NOTE: We must be wed November 28^th, 2007.

holy chicken ball, batman...two posts in one day!

2007-01-01T10:09:00.000-06:00

Apparently the cool thing to do today in blog-land according to the pro (Big Sister) is to post your New Years Eve pictures. Seeing as how I’m new at this, I will give her the benefit of the doubt in assuming this is standard procedure. And so… according to blog-land regulations… I give you… New Years Eve 2006 – Reykjavik.

Photograph stolen on account of it being a billion times better than mine

Nasa 90's Party - including lots of glow sticks

Even little Chicken Ball got down

home sweet home

2007-01-01T09:49:00.000-06:00

It seems impossible that a two week vacation and Christmas spent in Winnipeg along with two extremely long and eventful flight segments (insert: getting literally drenched by a passing car on my way to the bus stop, spilling coffee on my WHITE shirt, almost missing the bus, phone lines getting crossed while attempting to contact my hotel in Boston and even losing my luggage) has left me idea-less for a post. Perhaps because Christmas can basically be summed up perfectly in my sister's post or perhaps because all of the terrible travel experiences seem somewhat insignificant after such an amazing Christmas. (Besides, who needs socks anyway?) Christmas truly was perfect and it wouldn’t have been complete without my dad’s jokes and half an ipod full of polka tunes (plus a few Ace of Bass hits), mom’s inspiring Christmas spirit; her Christmas ice sculpture stars and her delicious cooking which I nearly ruined, my brother’s contagious cheerful child-like glee (and monkey slingshot), my sister’s equally contagious love of wine blended masterfully with her slightly dry sense of humour and finally a combination of good friends and lots of laughs. (Not to mention mutant gingerbread men). I simply cannot imagine spending Christmas with anyone else any other way and I am incredibly grateful for those who pushed me and those who made it possible. I have no regrets and while I’m happy to be in Iceland, nothing can be compared to the best day of the year spent where I really belong. Home.

number 206 most favourite thing

2006-12-31T07:05:00.000-06:00

Blatantly vulgar pyjamas with matching slippers...

and a slingshot monkey.

a christmas miracle...

2006-12-01T12:03:00.000-06:00

I decided yesterday that I would start my serious Christmas shopping. While roaming the streets of Reykjavik I made my way to Kringlan, one of the shopping malls. I am in a particularly good mood until I walk past the shoe store with MY SHOES still sitting in the window. Aware that they don’t have my size I merely pick them up and look at them. I sigh and look around the store for another equally beautiful pair of shoes to fall in love with. I feel uninspired. I leave the store and go on to a new shop. After a quick walk through the next store I find myself back in the first shoe store looking at MY shoes. I pick them up again….realize….the shoe I am holding is my size.

I try it on.

It fits.

Perfectly.

Almost too perfectly.

That’s it.

They’re mine.

I ask no questions and I walk up to the counter and declare to the girl working that I would like to purchase these shoes. This size. She smiles and walks to the back bringing out a brand new box with my shoes in them. I consider it destiny that for some reason today they have my size available. I ask no questions and simply hand her my Visa. I am now the proud owner of a new pair of delicious mary janes. I consider it fate.

eye swear...it's not that "bah"d

2006-11-30T13:56:00.000-06:00

At approximately 4:00 PM Tuesday shortly after the sun had set, the Alfholl Guesthouse put on a large pot of boiling water. The boiling pot of water was being prepared for and Icelandic delicacy – Sheep’s head. The sheep’s head is exactly that – a Sheep’s head. You can literally buy it at any supermarket with a freezer area and it is probably one of the cheapest things you can buy. You buy them in halves with only the brain removed. These puppies will set you back about 200 kr. This is the equivalent to a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee or a sheep’s head…. What a decision.

Anyways, we plop two brainless halves into the boiling water for about an hour and a half. There are NO words possible to explain the smell emanating throughout the house. It was disgusting. Good thing it only takes an hour and a half to cook. *sigh*

A painful and stinky hour and a half later we’re ready. Mentally as well. We begin by peeling back the skin and cutting through the layer of fat over the cheek. The meat is revealed. We all take a small bite and agree – “It’s not as bad as I thought….”

We move on to more disgusting parts of the head. Toward the black rotten teeth there is a papillose like meat to which we cannot stomach. We push it aside. The tongue comes next; It proves to be an interesting experience. Kinda spongy. We have eaten almost every part of the head except one… last…part.

I sense a hush coming over the crowd…could it be? Did she?? EAT THE EYEBALL? Yes, ladies and gentlemen. I ate the eyeball. In honour of my dear brother. And now - For your viewing pleasure – the eyeball feast.

Click The Sheep!

lost my sole

2006-11-26T13:29:00.000-06:00

October 20th, 2006: I see the shoes in another store uptown. I am still in love with them from our first meeting back in September. I touch them…walk away….return…and touch them again. We part.

October 21st, 2006: I have not tried the shoes on yet. I have basically decided that if I do try the shoes on I will not be able to resist them. Based on my enduring love for these shoes, I have decided that I will in fact try them on in the near future. They will be mine.

October 23rd, 2006: While going for a walk on a beautiful Monday I stop in to visit my shoes. I hold them; think about trying them on but I don’t because of my gimpy foot. I leave. Heal damn you. Heal!!

*Note: I come to realize that I refer to the shoes as “mine”.

October 25th, 2005: Looked up the word “addict” just for my own peace of mind.

Addict: 1 : to devote or surrender (oneself) to something habitually or obsessively

I find myself wonder what qualifies as “obsessively”…

I look up the word “obsession”.

Obsession: 1 : a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling; broadly : compelling motivation

Decide there is nothing “unreasonable” about my wishes.

November 3rd, 2006: Get paid. Discover I’m making over $20/hr. Finding it easier to justify a new pair of shoes. Have yet to try them on.

November 6th, 2006: Hand over almost my entire month’s pay for a five minute visit at the hospital in order to have a doctor confirm that my burn is in fact infected. Shoes put on delay.

November 17th, 2006: Having a sub-par kind of day. I decide to cheer myself up by trying on the shoes. They were sold out of my size. I panic.

November 18th, 2006: Head towards the second store in Reykjavik that has these shoes. They are also sold out of my size. I grieve.

November 26th, 2007: Have come to terms with the fact that I am now sole-less. I am now waiting to be inspired by a new pair of equally gorgeous shoes.

the massacre...

2006-11-25T10:41:00.000-06:00

A few short hours post creation and in the wee hours of the night, I hear a cluster of giggling Icelandic men followed by a "thud". In this moment I know. Our beloved Snókarl is no more.

We will miss you Karl.

i bring the snow with me...

2006-11-19T16:44:00.000-06:00

A Saturday Evening snow storm left a lovely thick blanket of sticky snow the following morning….

This can mean only one thing….

SNOWMAN!!!!!!

We named him Karl…because in Icelandic snowman = Snókarl. (genius)
.

my achilles heel (so clever)

2006-11-07T14:02:00.000-06:00

Upon the disappearance of my ankle bone, I decided it was due time to seek professional help and see a doctor.

Today after classes, I managed to correctly jump on a bus headed towards “Landspítali Fossvogi” … the hospital.

I walk into a small waiting room and approach the reception area to speak with one of the nurses at the front desk. She asks me a series of question to which I answer almost naturally. It’s as though I’ve been asked these questions before, or perhaps I’m equipped with some sort of experience in dealing with medical practitioners.

“What is the problem?” she asks me.

I pause and take a breath…

“Well, I burnt my skin about three weeks ago. They were second degree burns and one of the blisters popped. I’ve noticed some swelling and slight discoloration and think that there may be sign of infection….”

No more questions were required regarding my injury.

I finished filling out a form and waited.

Two and a half hours later I am called into a room where I wait another half hour for my doctor to arrive.

The doctor is of course young and good looking and I proceed to shove my foot into his face. He must think I’m a babe. I bet he loves looking at my partially manicured feet and three-week unshaved leg. (The truth is I tried to shave around the wound, but there is inevitably sections surrounding my burn which are left monstrously furry.) It’s sort of like a fuzzy picture frame.

After a few minutes of looking, and lightly pressing my swollen ankle, he tells me it is slightly infected and he will have a nurse clean the wound. He prescribes topical medication and leaves. His job is done.

Another half hour passes and the nurse comes in and cleans my burn. I cringe slightly as she peels off one of the scabs. I try to initiate conversation with her regarding my medication but she doesn’t take much to my small talk. As she leaves the room she flashes me a big (and rare) Icelandic smile while I proceed to dress my naked feet.

I walk out to the cashier with my purse and wallet in hand ready for the damage. The nurse at the front desk warned me about how expensive it would be and to be honest, while sitting in the waiting room I almost left convincing myself that my body could heal the infection itself. I didn’t leave. I simply decided that my health insurance should cover a large chunk… 24 800 ISK later I am on my way home, prescription in hand and infection on foot. (24 800 ISK = $400 Canadian Dollars) Ouch. That hurt more than the burn.

Sitting here now, I wonder if my burn really IS infected or if the doctor just told me that to make me feel better about spending $400 dollars. Either way, another victory is in Iceland’s hands. Well played Iceland, well played.

Iceland: 2 – Me: 0

i'll be home for christmas

2006-10-29T10:20:00.001-06:00

Let’s face it… your parents’ behavior while growing up rubs off on you. It’s inevitable. For example, pre-Icelandic departure, my father (whom I love dearly) brought home an entire box of Halls from Costco. For when I got sick. In Iceland. You see Iceland may not have Halls…. Or any other cough candy that the world produces. I only brought 10 packages with me. I haven’t opened one package yet. The real kicker? The University was giving out free Fisherman’s Friends the first week of school. Our house is stocked to the max with cough candy.

What I know? Costco is the best store in the world. Always buy in bulk. From Papa I have learnt to appreciate the value of a deal. (AKA I am cheap, except of course when it comes to shoes)

Now for mom. She knows what’s coming and yes, it will probably haunt her forever. It all has to do with her being a nurse. One would think that she would be able and willing to supply valuable medical advice to her children. She can… However, I can recite numerous occasions whereby I would crawl to my mother seeking sympathy and confirmation that I was OK and well. Did I get sympathy and reassurance? No. She told me I was dying. The only way I was actually allowed to stay home from school was if I was puking. Basically we children developed subconscious denial towards sicknesses. We children don’t actually know if we’re sick… unless of course we’re puking.

The immediate effects? Second degree burns on my feet? Big pussy blisters? I don’t need to see a doctor… I’m not puking. I’m fiiiine!

(Side Note: My mom thinks I should have seen a doctor. Who woulda thought?)

All that aside, my parents did imprint important values on me to fit in along with these idiosyncrasies. (Its OK guys, I looked it up) I would not be my mother’s daughter if I could resist the charms of Christmas. As much as I protest the fact that my mother actually writes on the calendar when she is to start decorating for Christmas… (November 1st because it’s after Halloween) I admit that I have myself thought about how I will fancy up my own place for the holidays. And so, with much thought I came to the simple decision that I must be home for Christmas. I will be home for Christmas. It’s the most important day of the year… and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. On Christmas morning, what I would like more than anything is to complain about the fact that my big brother is ACTUALLY taking a shower and eating breakfast as my sister and I sit and wait eagerly while eating our stocking candy breakfasts.

my celebrity lookalikes

2006-10-23T05:49:00.000-05:00

http://www.myheritage.com

proof that iceland is geothermally active

2006-10-21T11:24:00.000-05:00

Fact: Iceland is situation on top of a “Hot Spot”

Hot Spot: A localized region in the world where magma circulates very actively beneath the crust’s surface.

What does this mean? : It means Iceland has lots of Volcanoes and hot springs.

See Seltun: An extremely active geothermal region of Iceland.

See Boiling Crater: It is in fact boiling water/goop.

Equation Used:

One part mini boiling crater + one part photo happy traveler + one part quicksand + three parts sheer stupidity

What does this equation give?

The ground suddenly collapsing under my feet.

And therefore… Second Degree Burns on my Ankles.

Conclusion: Iceland is in fact geothermally active. My classes are correct…. Just wanted to make sure.

Score:

Iceland:1 Me: 0

(Stupidity Level: 6.5)

reason #315 why I love my mom

2006-10-19T13:19:00.000-05:00

She remembered all the things that I never would have thought to pack.

Eg.) My hot water bottle.
Oh hot water bottle... I declare you the greatest invention...ever!

should I start my own blog...

2006-10-03T13:25:00.000-05:00

While entertaining the idea of starting my own blog, I decided that it would benefit me to make up a list of Pros and Cons. The list went something like this...

Pro: It will let people know what I’m up to.

Con: It’s kinda nerdy.

Pro: It will give me a sort of diary so I can look back at what I’ve done and where I’ve been.

Con: It’s not always easy to keep up with postings.

Pro: It will allow me to be more creative.

Con: It’s pretttty nerdy.

Pro: Because I am a pundit. (Look it up bitches)

*Senses big sister cringing*

Con: My friends will probably make fun of me.

Con Neutralizer: My friends already make fun of me. In fact, they’re probably going to make fun of me for neutralizing the con… not to mention stumbling upon the word “pundit” and attempting to use it.

Pro: It will work as a form of therapy. (Especially for when my friends make fun of me)

Con: My mom will be upset with me for using words like “bitches”

Pro: It will make my big sister very very happy. (And all her peer pressuring friends)

Con: It’s super nerdy.

Pro: One of her friends came up with a wicked blog name….

Con: But the name is nerdy too.

Pro: It will make my big sister very very happy….

And so it is decided… the birth of a blog. Kiss My Ash….bitches!

*Note: See Peer Pressuring Posting + Peer Pressuring Comments.