R.E.

Is about to begin, because, after all, this is my blog despite its tiresomeness.

In my time, I've visited a fair number of large cities in various countries, and I'm often left wondering why Torontonians seem to have so many more arguments with each other than the residents of the other places I've been. I have long held that Canadians are not well-suited for life in bustling crowds, as my normally polite (stereotypically, anyway) countrymen and women are easily transformed into angry and yelling beasts, and all seem to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. To tell you the truth, I'm so sensitive that I sometimes stay home just to avoid seeing others fight. Today Kaz and I went to the illustrious Dufferin Mall (in our blue-collar, ethnically-diverse neighbourhood) to pick up our replated wedding rings. In less than one hour, I heard one young mother shrieking at another woman in the ladies fitting room at Winners, for allegedly speaking harshly to the other woman's child, the clerk manning the entrance to the aforementioned fitting room was given a harsh verbal blast for wanting to count a customer's items of clothing, and finally, one customer was loudly lecturing another customer for standing too close to her in the line.

Today I formulated a theory: there are too many gaps in the "universal", unspoken rules of politeness in Canada, and since we are mostly of varying cultural backgrounds each possessing their own standards of polite conduct and with varying degrees of fluency in our lingua franca of English, we are bound to get infuriated with each other and fight when our expectations are not met.

You see, I lived in Hong Kong for quite some time, and even though it is infinitely more crowded, hot, and frenetically-paced and loud than Toronto, I've witnessed far fewer arguments and lived a much less stressful life. As much as I love the HKers (and absolutely consider myself one of them in my heart), I would not say it's because they are naturally more polite and thoughtful than Canadians, but rather that they have a much higher tolerance to perceived slight, and that the Hong Kong government clearly identifies how they should behave in every situation. No one cuts in front of you to get into the bus, because there are metal bars defining the path to the bus' entrance and each person must line up in advance. There are also marks that show where to line up to board the subway (MTR) unlike in Toronto where each person chooses a random spot along the platform and then rushes forward to beat others into the train like hippos converging upon the mouth of a funnel. No wonder people are all glaring and cursing by the time they've entered the train!

I certainly am not advocating erecting corrals to direct my fellow Canadians like cattle, but a more uniform education in etiquette would be a step to improving our society and fostering goodwill. A conscious effort to live out the golden rule would be an excellent start.

(It would seem that my Canadian politeness and oversensitivity to the possibility of causing offence has kept this from turning into an actual rant. My parents say this will make me a good diplomat, though that has yet to be seen.)

This is dorky, but I'm very excited to see my new iRobot vacuum as soon as it arrives!! With a dog, a cat, a rather messy husband and 1600 square feet of industrial loft in Toronto's dustiest area, the concrete floors became something I gave up on shortly after moving in, but perhaps the little robot vac can turn things around for me! We'll have to wait and see.

There are many more attractive and sleek models, but we definitely need the toughest one, the Dirt Dog.

Irobotdirtdog

UPDATE: This thing rocks my socks. If I wasn't already married, I'd marry this vacuum; I love it that much.

In other news, blogging holds no appeal for me these days, so I'm taking a hiatus. *^_^*

Wow, it was so gorgeous. My baby sis and my darling brother-in-law tied the knot last Saturday in Belleville, Ontario. It was perfect in every way. Everyone was so happy, and it filled all of our hearts with joy to see these two take this momentous step. Now they are in Costa Rica on honeymoon, and Kaz and I are exhausted and trying to regain our strength from eight long months of wedding planning.

DSC01357

These are my two closest friends in Quebec - Karin and Maria Andrea. I didn't intend to make any close friends, but I anticipated a lot of friendlets (my new term for people to hang out with, but who you can't call when you're down or rely on for anything.) What I found was exceptional. I LOVE them.

Vous me manque, colombianas!

I'm back!!! After five tumutuous weeks without my husband, I'm back from my intensive french school in Quebec. I've made some good progress.

It's very surreal - nothing in my apartment seems the same and my dog is looking at me like I've returned from the dead. The taxi driver was ranting to me about how only Pakistani women are "clean" before marriage and I was too tired to give him the blast he so richly deserves. He drove, honking, through two red lights and I thought, "I'm home." Only in Toronto do I pay someone to force their opinions on me!

I realized how much I enjoy speaking English. I LOVE this language, and I just never realized how much I enjoy its nuances.

It's starting to set in that I've returned to my responsibilities and I can't just party every night - not that I was really enjoying that anyway. I feel like I left 25 here, and have just stepped back into my age. I made one very close friend, and I miss her already. I'm never leaving my Kaz again - that was absolute hell.

Which is where we'll be this weekend. It's a gigantic festival for dogs held in Toronto each year. We'll be exhibiting our pet photography for the second year in a row, and debuting our fantastic new coffee table books. Come by and say hello if you're in the area!

Tired today because of super-fun dancing with new friends last night in a near-empty club. Still, we showed them that we don't need a big crowd to enjoy ourselves, right guys? Kaz's paparazzi dance is a hit wherever we go. ;-P.

From the time I was a baby, my parents taught me to respect my elders. I volunteered at three nursing homes throughout highschool, and I think the elderly are to be treasured as beacons of wisdom, and should never be the recipients of abuse of any kind.

However, THEY KEEP PUSHING ME TOWARD INSANITY.

Even though it's the last thing I'd wanted, I've been dragged into an battle with an elderly couple who live on our street. Parking in Toronto is always a hot issue, but I really wasn't prepared for the degree of childishness that things would deteriorate to. These people, well into their seventies, have nothing better to do with their twilight years than scream obscenities at us for parking on our street, despite the fact that we hold a permit to do so and there are plenty of spaces. For the last 6 months, the man has been sneaking out in the night and spitting large quantities of phlegm onto our car, and the cars of our neighbours. (He was recently caught, and warned by the police.)

One day last winter we inadvertently left one door unlocked and emerged in the morning to see all four doors and the glovebox open to the elements, with snow inside. Nothing was taken, but there was more spit inside and it was clearly intended to intimidate us. I was shaken. Now that we bought a new car, we try to park as far away from their house as possible, but there were no spots today when I brought Koharu back from the park and the wife (who appears close to death and is on oxygen yet still smokes two packs a day) started in on me again. I called Kaz to help me get away from them, and they had the nerve to scream racial slurs at my husband and call him a "Jap". Surely no one could blame me for losing my temper after that?

My blood started to boil and I demanded to know why they would choose to spend their last years quarelling with young neighbours (who have always been polite, respectful and kind before they commenced with the spitting and cursing) when they could live in peace, and told them that if they so much as touch my car, I will "press charges with the police, sue you and drag you into court until your very last day on earth and make your life a living hell until you are dead and I am free to continue living my life." Then I gave my most ferocious death glare and continued my verbal tirade until they had retreated into their house. Hmm... did I go a tad overboard perhaps? 

(Sidebar: As has been mentioned, we are stressed. Busy and stressed. We are working around the clock, I haven't talked to any of my friends for weeks and weeks, and we are exhibiting in a major trade show in 4 days and are completely unprepared.)

What I didn't tell them is that I have the unfortunate distinction of indirectly causing harm to an old neighbour of my family. This horrible man was verbally abusive to his small frail wife, his children and his grandchildren, and became fixated on the property line that divided our back yards. After lengthy sessions of screaming at my parents, he insisted that his property began 4 feet onto our property, even though there was a small wall between us that was declared the property line. My parents were splitting up and the neighbour battles were adding extra fuel to the fire, I was very stressed with my highschool life (I was an extreme overachiever to combat the lack of control I had to alter the happenings in my family) and I was very close to my breaking point. One evening following a large family fight, I was watching dishes by the window overlooking the yard when I saw Mr. Armstrong climbing over our wall with a fist full of neon stakes. He trampled my mother's flowers, and began driving the stakes into her flowerbeds, presumably to mark "his" territory. I rushed out the back door and began to yell. Things escalated, he swore at me, and all of the pain, frustration, rage and exhaustion boiled up as I screamed, "FUCK YOU!!!" in the loudest voice I've ever used. This was the first time I'd ever said anything like this to anyone, as I was always a very "good", very restrained girl and I never swore. My curse echoed throughout the town and rang in my ears, and Mr. Armstrong turned very pale and backed himself into his own yard. I stood there stunned at what I had just done. My family rushed out to find 17-year-old me bawling guiltily on the porch, and asked me to explain what had happened. It's hard to explain, but I felt very guilty and yet strangely proud; much like I feel now. When an ambulance came to Mr. Armstrong's house the next day because he'd had a stroke, I felt bad, but also like I had finally been able to do something to protect my family. After years of seeing my parents tear each other apart, I was able to defend our family from outside attack.

Since we lived in a very small town (population 1300) filled with chatty gossiping women, they had heard my bellowing curse and the story spread throughout the town. However, because I was such a goody-two-shoes and no one had seen me do it, everyone thought that it was my sister who had been involved in the altercation. (Heehee!). Mr. Armstrong never came home and I never saw him again, and I blamed myself for many, many years. Everyone tried to tell me that he was a ticking time-bomb because he never got along with anyone and used to scream and yell night and day, but I still felt responsible.

Eventually, we even discovered that the property line was actually 4 feet on his property, but it was a hollow victory. My parents had split up, I had fled back to Hong Kong to nurse my wounds and prepare for university, and Mrs. Armstrong had died of cancer. (We had visited, and I had asked her for forgiveness.)

Now, finally, I've reached the point where I can forgive myself and move on, and it seems that God has placed me in a similar situation and I have the option of choosing a different response. I know that I shouldn't threaten and scream, but react with love and patience. And humility, which will be difficult because Kaz and I are clearly not in the wrong. I will think about it more, pray, and get back to you. :-). Any suggestions?

or does everyone cry at the sight of a bowl of Ritz crackers?

One minute I was laughing with my sweetheart about the prospect of buying a new car, and the next minute I've dissolved into a pile of tears - frantically trying to gather up the crackers in case we need to eat them if we one day go bankrupt and my marriage dissolves and WHY CAN'T MY PARENTS GET BACK TOGETHER? So, poor Kaz is standing there holding my sobbing frame upright, and trying to figure out how we got from crackers to impending divorce in under five seconds, and goodness knows I have no idea.

We went car shopping yesterday, and I drove a gigantic SUV in the pouring rain and felt like a tiny ant in a monster truck. I told the salesman said SUV is far too big for our needs and terrible for the environment, and he laughed condescendingly and said that it is always better to have more room than you need than not enough. And then I bashed him on the head with a tire iron. (Oh wait, that's just what I wanted to do.)

I'm very late in sending my numbers to the accountant, and I'm drowning in receipts and useless chits of paper. Kaz says maybe we should hire a bookkeeper as well. Right about now, I'm liking that idea, and I'm thoroughly depressed at how much money we spent over the past year. Ridiculous! I'm going to drown my sorrow in cheese twists.

I am also in the midst of exams. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to the behemoth that is the four-hour French Grammar test.

Until I am done with these unpleasant things, I'll comfort myself with this K-Os song, which I love for many reasons - one of which is that it shows that I'm not the only person who finds Toronto to be a tad unfriendly. We have a love/hate relationship, Toronto and I.

K-Os_-_Atlantis_Hymns_For_Disco_-_03_[1].Fly_Paper

K-Os

In other news, our TV show was fun! Actually, Kaz was awesome and I was obviously shy. I did get quite a few messages from friends across the country who saw the show without me telling them, and were surprised to see me on television wearing one ridiculous outfit that somehow cost $1900.00. No, it was not a designer dress, but some freaking denim culottes! And $700.00 sandals that I inadvertently destroyed at a cottage wedding last summer. What a disaster. Maybe I should sell that Hermès scarf on eBay to pay my accountant! *^_^*

Deeply in love, Rhiana and Kaz want their fledgling marriage to flourish, but a clash of cultures in getting in the way of romance. Kaz wants to be a loving Canadian husband, but says his Japanese upbringing hasn’t taught him how. Instead, this young couple spends all their time working on their new business. Rhiana is spending way too much time working from home in her pajamas. 

Steven will show Rhiana that she needs to lead by example if she wants Kaz to learn to romance her, and will take her from PJs to Party Days in capris and platforms, a playful embroidered cap-sleeved blouse and fitted vest. Kaz’s idea of mix and match is combining black, brown, gray and navy all at once, causing him to fade into the background. 

Chris will give Kaz the confidence to express his personality and his desire to please his Western wife, taking him from Dark Horse to Front Runner in fitted pants, a white sport jacket and lavender and white patterned shirt. While Rhiana is in makeup, Chris takes Kaz for a romance lesson – how to relax his hardworking wife with an aromatic hand massage. When Rhiana and Kaz hit the happening Rock-a-Preppy party and its rock-edged Polo set, they’ll be all fun and games in “Preppy Chic.”

Or so it says on the Slice.ca website today - only 1 more day until our show airs - Monday at 9 ET. It should be hilarious.