...reporting for duty. so, i kinda failed my G1 written knowledge test. it was HARD! wicked hard! it's split into two parts, each with 20 questions, and you have to get at least 16 right on each of them (but i think you can only get 4 wrong overall). the first part consists of written questions and the second part consists of identifying road signs. i'm pretty sure i aced the road signs...but i totally bombed the written part, mostly because i stopped reading the book after all the driving info.
my achilles heel (which can often, in equal measure, be my greatest strength) turned out to be my motto of: "how hard can it be?" (ie. if angelina jolie can fly a plane, i can fly a plane...if jamaicans can learn to bobsled, i can learn to bobsled, etc., etc.) well, in this case, 16 year olds and immigrants with english as a second language had a leg up on me because they actually READ THE WHOLE BOOK. INCLUDING THE PART ABOUT DEMERIT POINTS, which i only breezed through superficially (and by "breezed through superficially," i mean: "turned to as a respite when reading cormac mccarthy's 'the road' became too depressing"). it turns out i'm much more of a hardass than the ministry of transportation. where i would hazard that G1 and G2 drivers are not permitted to have ANY demerit points, the MTO graciously (and foolishly, i think) allows them 9. nine! i say throw the book at 'em! that's why cars are deathtraps, people! 9 is a LOT! whereas, if you receive a criminal code violation, i would take away your license for life, the MTO is much more generous (again to their detriment, putting the good people of our province at risk). the point is, i have to pay another $10 and somehow book time off of work to get this shiz done at a later date. and it's 3 hours of my life down the tubes. shaaaaaame.
in other news...the dr. rei is getting teh marriedz0rz!!! with the hanbo!!! and is sporting a hefty rock on her slender little dr. rei finger! like hella hefty! like, could take out my cat, boddington's eye, hefty. she's beside herself with happiness, which in turn, makes me beside myself with happiness (although not in the shrieky, girly, jump-up-and-down way...more in my cynical, hard-boiled, incredulous way) and has spurred me to start planning me and the dotytron's performance piece in earnest. i mean, if dr. rei and hanbo can get their acts together to get hitched after 7 months...then really, with 7 years under our belt, me and the dotytron have no excuses. so ready yourselves...i'm throwing myself into wedding (not really) planning with a zeal and eye for detail and attention and spreadsheeting the likes of which you've never seen!
actually...not all that true. no bridezilla over here. more like comedic-zilla. i want this thing to be hilares. and to embody the spirit of myself and the dotytron. which is: hilares. and: taking the piss. and: unsentimental as romance and sentimentality are commonly understood to be.
so you'll have to look elsewhere for your romantic proposal story - none of that over here. after 7 years, when your togetherness is pretty much a foregone conclusion (excitement and ambition having long succumbed to the succour of regularity, comfort, and routine) in concert with the fact that i could care less about being surprised with a picture-perfect proposal and have an extreme aversion to anything resembling cliche (even as that sentiment puts me smack dab in cliche-ville)...it seems a little redundant and silly to try to cobble something like that together. in this day and age, when women go ring shopping with their partners, what's the point of the surprise proposal? you know it's coming. it's just a matter of what day/what time of day? i guess it's just not my style. i mean, the very thought of just moving apartments makes me breaks out in hives, so ergo, vis-a-vis, i reckon that i've thrown my lot in with the dotytron because finding someone else who'll put up with me is just too much for me to contemplate/fit into my life. isn't that romantic enough? do you know how much time it takes to train someone to bear my nightime, teeth-grindingly pitchy, falsetto, coldplay lullabies? now THAT'S romance, people. do you know how hard it is to find a girl who doesn't drink a single drop but is obsessed enough with the idea of cocktails to go out and set up a home bar in the space of an afternoon and research drinks for her beloved? THAT'S love. biking home with 2 twelves of craft beer in a non-back friendly knapsack because you can imagine the pure, unmitigated joy of a cold beer on a hot day (having never experienced this phenomena yourself) is love.
in other other news...my grandpa, kung kung, totally dropped the best zinger ever. over japanese all-you-can-eat on saturday night (at which kung kung [maternal grandpa] and poh poh [maternal grandma] weren't present) my siblings and my mum got into a spirited discussion on nationalism. my mom thinks that the lack of volunteer and community spirit in canada is due to nationalism and that our nation's policy of multiculturalism has had unintended consequences of ghettoization, etc., etc. (my mom is one of the most community-minded women i know...she's a tireless hospital fundraiser, works hard for scarborough, and does so much do-gooding that she was recognized by the province and appointed to a trillium foundation organization board for organ donation. go mumsie!)
the next day, at asian legend for shanghai dimsum, at which kung kung and poh poh were present, we started talking about the olympics (my kung kung is an avid tennis/baseball/swimming/most sports fan). so i asked him who he was rooting for at the olympics:
"kung kung! were you rooting for china, or canada at the olympics...what do you think of nationalis---"
at which point he interrupted me with a booming and declarative:
"NO! one world. one dream."
hahahaha...hilarious!!! the fact that that was the olympic slogan for 2008 only makes it all the funnier.
last night i made paninis of ace multigrain bread, ricotta, figs, proscuitto, and baby arugala.
with a big mixed salad with a balsamic honey vinaigrette.
tonight i made farfalle with beet greens, ricotta, guanciale, and roasted peppers. with a tomato and basil bruschetta (toasted st. john's sourdough, rubbed with a cut piece of garlic).
i'm also making a batch of blueberry muffins for us for breakfast, featuring ontario wild blueberries. there are few things more magical than warm, buttered, crusty-topped blueberry muffins, made with so many blueberries that the muffin batter becomes an exception to the whole. and it has to be salted butter. melting into the nooks and crags and dripping down your arm. now that one of us is in school again, we need some provisions so that we're not going without handy snacks and quick breakfasts.
poor dotytron...his school schedule is killer. lucky for him, i'm probably the best lunch packer this side of snackables and capri sun juice. today for instance, i wrangled together a sandwich of sliced ribeye, with arugala and ermite blue cheese, on st. john's bakery sourdough bread, with an apple, and a 1L sigg bottle of water. when everything calms down (we're going away for the weekend again) i'm going to throw together some granola bars and mixed nuts for mid-day pick-me-ups.
it's nice to be appreciated. last night i made my own dinner and then called the roomie (knowing she and the dotytron were both going to be home late) with the mom speech of: "there's salad already made up, the salad dressing is right next to it on the counter. the sandwiches are ready to go and just have to be put in the panini press - you remember how to use that, right?" and she responded with a heartfelt, emotional, "i'm so glad you're back." lol! the roomie has fully acknowledged that her already piecemeal cooking skills have atrophied in the time she's been living here. when left to her own devices while we're on vacation, i always come home to find a fridge full of food elements, multiple boxes of cereal, and various "sentiments" (organic milk, seaweed for snacking that she never eats, m-bars).