7 mile beach, Grand Cayman.
Life could be worse 🙂
7 mile beach, Grand Cayman.
Life could be worse 🙂
Had a great first night of vacation in Tampa – went out for drinks at 5, drunk by 7pm, home and in bed by 10! We managed to pick up booze for our group at Walgreens while we were drunk. Go us.
Lets drop anchor and get out of here!! (Editors note: Clearly ‘dropping anchor’ wouldn’t send us on our way.. but you get the point)
Once again I find myself killing time at the Air Canada Maple Leaf Lounge and trying not to destroy my progress too early in the trip. It’s a bit easier not to imbibe as the beer taps aren’t even turned on for another ten minutes – but I’m still doing pretty well by enjoying copious amounts of water and the sustenance of a banana.
Needless to say, my efforts in proper nutrition will be sailing right out the window (or porthole?) as we Embark on our Caribbean Cruise aboard the Carnival Legend tomorrow!!
While I’m off enjoying fun in the sun, and gorging on the never ending supply of food – you can be damn sure the pump cheese machine and I will be well acquainted early on in the trip.
Don’t judge me, I’m already judging myself 😉
Have a good week ya’ll!
When traveling abroad as a Canadian I am always reminded of the things I say or do that are “very Canadian” like saying Eh all the time, pronouncing about like winter footwear (we do not say aboot!!) and being overly polite and hyper apologetic. This past week I received a text from a wrong number and totally experienced the whole “polite and apologetic Canadian” thing.
The text conversation, verbatim:
Stranger Danger: Caitlin, right?
Nancy: Hahaha no, sorry
Stranger Danger: ?
Nancy: Not Caitlin, sorry. Someone called me that last week in person as well. Twilight Zone
Stranger Danger: Haha no kidding. Thats funny.
Nancy: It is, but sorry not Caitlin
Stranger Danger: Yea, no worries. I messed up the number. Got it all sorted. Weird coincidence though.
Nancy: True indeed – and the chuckling was justified on my part. Good luck on your quest for Caitlin!
Stranger Danger: Haha thanks, much appreciated
Strangers phone number was a Vancouver area code, so I guess Canadians are pretty polite – or just desperate for conversation 🙂
Friends, Stalkers – it’s all pretty relative, right?
Ok, so I mentioned the other day that the Manager a local Wendy’s knows my order off by heart and is possibly a little too familiar with me. Well after a week of being a good girl and bringing my own lunches (and a company event that involved copious amounts of Corn Dogs), I found myself scurrying down to the food court today in search of a meal. When inspiration didn’t instantly strike, I aimed for Wendy’s to pick up my trusty Baja Salad.
As soon as I got to the front of the line and the Manager saw me he flashed me a big smile and said “Hey friend! I saw you this weekend at King & Niagara!“.
Me “___”, “______”, “_________”, “Uhh… Yup I was visiting a friend.”
Manager “It was about 9:30 on Saturday night – I tried to call out to you but you were talking to someone else”
The conversation carried on for a minute, with him asking me if I lived in that area and other such details I normally don’t share with strangers. I kept wondering how he would have tried to get my attention since he clearly doesn’t know my name (nor do I know his, and in all fairness I’ve tried to subtly read his name tag a few times to no avail) – did he just yell out Hey Friend!? Regardless, I don’t remember anyone hollering at me when I arrived in the neighbourhood or as my friend and I were scurrying off for a late dinner a short while later.
Is this just a small world situation, or am I being stalked? Stalked by the guy that gives me a full size Chili with my half-size Baja Salad simply because I don’t want the dressing or the chips it normally comes with. Most pathetic stalking ever, if that’s the case!
I was having a conversation with Jillian today that reminded me of a story from my Childhood.
My Elementary school put on a yearly show at a local theatre, showcasing all the “talent” of its student body. I seem to recall that there were some Choirs, Dance groups and likely a few acts from the school’s Drama Club. In one of my earlier years (can’t remember if it was Kindergarten or Grade One), I was in the Folk Dancing club and was very excited for my first on stage performance. Being that most of the dancers were 5 or 6, we didn’t have proper dance attire, but our look for the show was jeans or a jean skirt and a top. Adorable and easy.
For some reason, I took it upon myself to refuse to wear my own jean skirt and insist on wearing one of my Sister’s – all I can remember is that it was darker, which I guess I preferred. The fashion police were after me at a young age, I suppose. The skirt itself was fine in theory, but given that my sister was three years older than me and we were both on the small size of our own age groups, it was definitely too big. I’m sure I fussed enough and demonstrated that it would be fine (which it wasn’t), so Mom gave in and let me wear it. Later in life I’m sure a therapist will note examples like this as cause for my incessant need to have things go my way.
The skirt alone would have led to an amusing scene, but that was not enough for young Nancy. You see, I had these white gloves that I was just dying to wear. Seriously, white gloves. I’m not even sure why I had these, or if my Mom even knew I took them to the recital with me, but I had them and they most definitely ended up on stage.
Regardless of the little details, it ended like this: In a group of kids where I otherwise would have just been another bobbling dancer, staring at the other kids in order to remember the next move, I was the one random little girl wearing white gloves and stopping ever third or fourth step to pull up my skirt.
Star of the show, and I didn’t even know it. I’m sure its moments like these that make Elementary School recitals bearable for the crowd – comic relief and all. You’re welcome.
Ok. So I’m totally an epic example of a creature of habit. I’m highly scheduled, completely predictable and at my best when I know what to expect (well by best I probably mean most calm – ‘besting’ at Nancy involves more variables than consistency alone). Not surprisingly, I have a tendency to order the exact same thing at specific restaurants. I figure, if I already know I like it, why risk it on something different – which is a bit ironic since I love so many different kinds of food. I digress.
Typically, my office building food court doesn’t provide a plethora of healthy options (or at least healthy options that appeal to me) so I try to avoid relying on it for lunch food. When I do end up in the food court, one of my go to options is the Baja Salad from Wendy’s. I know, I know – doesn’t sound that healthy right? And to be honest, I could do better, but in terms of a quick lunch it’s not that bad. The Salad is served with Guacamole, Chili, Tortilla Chips, Dressing and – my favourite – Hot Sauce. Personally I have always found that the Chili and Hot Sauce provide more than enough to the meal, that I always ask not to have the chips dressing – which also helps improve the nutritional content slightly. Somehow over the years, a Manager at this particular location has begun to recognize me, even saying hello at a different location I once went to on a weekend. He also seems to understand that I’m really more interested in the hot sauce than the salad itself, and gives me a heaping pile of the little golden packages without me ever having to remind him.
Being a known customer at a Fast Food joint isn’t exactly a highlight for me – but the Manager is always so friendly that I just go with it and make sure to wave even if I’m just passing by. I went down for my usual lunch on Monday, and as he was cheerily filling my order and joking about the quantity of hot sauce I consume (apparently, this banter doesn’t get old) he looked up at me and smiled and said “You’ve lost weight! Excellent!” I smiled, nodded vigorously, grabbed my lunch and bolted.
Is it wrong that I was slightly horrified? And I’m not really sure why – was it because I eat at a Wendy’s often enough for an employee to notice a personal change, or was it because a veritable stranger chose to comment on my weight? I’ll just take it as a compliment and move on – and maybe start packing my lunch more often 🙂