Thank you, Mr Miyagi

Mr. Miyaga taught an entire generation to paint, and for that I thank him. As does the house I'm slathering right now. Up, down, from the wrist. 
Now, to perfect my crane pose...

Life lessons

My recent disappearance has been mainly due to pride, namely the swallowing and surprise regaining of it. 


I'm now a manual labourer, painting the interior of a Globe colleague's house because a) I have nothing to do, and b) he has lots of bare walls. But what began as a grand idea turned into stark reality on Tuesday, when I went with T. to work so said colleague could give me the key.


We go up the ramp, and I wince as T. sails by the empty parking spots at the lot's periphery. "Can't we just stop here?" I ask, but he says no, he's meant to park in his allotted spot, just steps from the door. The fact that the car will be there for only a couple of minutes doesn't seem to occur to him.
I couldn't go inside the building, though. Having been in there as an award-winning journo, I couldn't bring myself to walk in as a manual labourer (in suitably daggy painting clothes).
So I hunched in the car to wait for my colleague. And naturally, that's when the National editors walk out to have a smoke. As I sit in a car just metres away. Trying to be invisible. Didn't work.


Despite my deep belief in the value of manual work and in the people who do it, I am a bit ashamed to admit I had to swallow my pride to go there myself. Do I think myself above it? If so, is that warranted?
These were the questions flitting through my mind as I sanded, washed, taped and painted the trim and doors on the second floor this week. 
And part way though, as I carefully slapped on the white gloss and assiduously cleaned up after myself, I realised why I was making such an effort: pride. I want to be proud of this, as proud as I am of anything I do.


I need to believe in the value of what I do, instead of judging my efforts by the world's pecking order. Methinks this is a good lesson for a whatever adventures are ahead.

Road etiquette

Warning to all useless drivers: If you continue to ineptly park in front of my house, taking up two spots with your willful inconsideration, I will write a polite rebuke and place it under your windscreen wiper blade, where I hope it will initially look like a parking ticket and thereby give you a double-shock.

Learn to park, people!!!

(Could I get away with a small traffic-crusader cape to wear at such times?)

Rainy Friday afternoon (I got no mind for worry)

So I visited the newsroom yesterday. It was a bit weird to contemplate, but great in actuality. A bit like ripping off the proverbial band-aid.


While I can be proud of that, I must humbly admit that my 'free thing a day' project is over before it even began. Schade!! Turns out, I'll be spending too much time this month helping people out, so my karma bank will be growing even if my blogging record doesn't. 
First up: help a friend paint the inside of his house. 
Then, later in October: Go and help run a super-nerd tent at a Waterloo nerd gathering called Quantum2Cosmos. Sure, all the lectures I wanted to attend are full, and the movies are sold out, but T rightly pointed out (read: slightly guilted me into agreeing) that I'd offered to help, and really shouldn't go back on my word.


So I'm going to be a handywoman, and a geek extraordinaire, all in a matter of weeks. Huzzah!
In the meantime, it's raining in Toronto, and the wonderful umbrella given to me by my fantastic bridesmaid on my rainy wedding day is getting many compliments. As it should.