You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better. ~ Anne Lamott
Last year was a year like no other. True love came back, true love failed me. Diabetes, Hashimoto's, and cancer tried to kill me, I bounced back. I met people who would change my world forever, I said goodbye to people who were too toxic for me to forgive.
There were a lot of changes and one of those things was a commitment to be even more fiscally responsible. 2012 was the year I stopped making "oh its only ten dollars" purchases. 2013 was the year of savings and paying myself an allowance. Because someone has to pay for my dentist and his lovely wife to go to Africa. I am convinced Dr. Frank and Anne plan their holidays around my visits.
There are two very easy savings plans trending on the Internet (read that as Pinterest) that I tried with much success. I barely noticed I was saving money. These plans are not about deprivation or cash starvation; they are about saving money daily and weekly.
First is the five dollar savings plan. Whenever you receive a five dollar bill as change, when you return home, you take the five dollars out of your wallet, pocket, sock, shoe, bra, wherever you put your change and put it in a jar, envelope, box, etc. Set a goal for yourself (for me it was a paying for a root canal because I have a ghetto fantastic medical plan that doesn't cover shit when it comes to your teeth) or a specific dollar amount, and at that time use your fives. Had I not had to make a mortgage payment on my teeth, by the summer I would have had nearly $600.00 to throw in my savings account. To be honest, I stopped saving after that point. The guilt of spending five dollar bills still plagues me to the point where I have started saving five dollar bills again and I am committed to saving them all year long. Unless Dr. Frank and Anne decide they need to go somewhere exotic, do their voodoo dental dance, and I land in Frank's chair with a tooth ready to fall out of my head.
The second savings plain is being called the 52 week money challenge. This chart and others like it are making their way around the Internets:
The idea that drives this plain is pretty simple. Each week you pay yourself an "allowance" and at the end of the year, you will have saved $1378.00. Again, put the money in a jar, box, envelope, etc. You can download this chart, or other charts like it, to track your progress throughout the year. If you find yourself a bit short on cash due to buying Christmas presents and spreading Christmas cheer, try starting the chart at the end. This way, when December comes, paying out your allowance is manageable. I used the money I saved using this plan to pay for the crown that had go on top of the previously mentioned root canal. Frank is expensive company.
Be diligent and don't forget to feel the sun when it shines on your lovely face.
I am on a quest.
I am chasing food in Edmonton.
I am looking for local restaurants that are the best kept secrets Edmonton has to offer. You can keep your Olive Garden's and your Keg's. After the lobster I had while cruising a lagoon in Cancun, Red Lobster can bite me.
I am looking for that little hole in the wall that everyone in the neighbourhood raves about. Your suggestions are not only welcome, they will be tried and tested.
Yesterday, it was lunch at Bucas and Pastas in the West End. If you can find the West Division police detachment, you will be directly across the street from Bucas.
You can find their site, complete with menu, here.
The restaurant itself is located in a strip mall and it has about 10 tables, if you are interested in staying for your meal. I would suggest getting there early as the seating looks a bit cramped; we were there around 12:30, which in Edmonton is prime lunch time, and all the tables were full and there was a long line at the counter.
Do yourself a favour and study the menu. Pour over it before you get there. Make sure you know EXACTLY what you want when you get to the counter. There's a bit of a Soup Nazi vibe from the staff, especially Mumma working the line; she wants to keep things moving and the sooner you pay, the sooner she can make money off someone else. I can respect that, but it is best if you know what sauce you want or she will decide for you.
The daily lunch special (which comes in at a very reasonable $8.95) was chicken and prosciutto cannelloni with your choice of salad; I went with the creamy dill:
Forgive the pictures. The cam on my phone sucks a bag of you know whats. And lunch was a take away, so the food had been slapped in containers and tossed about on the way back to the office.
Believe me, it tasted miles better than it looks.
Ratings:
Appearance: Clean and quaint.
Service: Be ready or be roughed up a little. Things go fast so be prepared.
Food: Home cooked Italian. Very good, 7.5/10
Overall rating: Will be back.
Chicken and prosciutto cannelloni:
I'm not entirely sure my cannelloni had prosciutto in it. I was definitely missing the saltiness that comes from that kind of ham and I found the filling lacking somewhat in seasoning but it was hearty and combined well with the pomodoro sauce. The pasta was done perfectly and just the right amount of cheese was baked on. It was a bit messy to eat, mostly because it was in a take away container, but the small sized portion was the perfect amount of pasta for a lunch. Overall, 7/10.
Creamy dill salad:
I could very easily become friends with this salad. I would have preferred more dill and less carrots but that is a personal preference and not a knock against the salad itself. If you are a fan of salads that do not contain lettuce, this is a safe and yummy choice; it was simply cauliflower, broccoli, red peppers, carrots, and creamy dill dressing. Overall, 8/10.
I did not have dessert as it was lunch and I do not usually have dessert with lunch. That being said, next time, I will have death by chocolate!
I am pretty sure this trip to Mexico is going to kill me. Before I even get to the airport.
I have had a nervous breakdown in a Walmart dressing room over the size of my ass and how much cleavage is too much for a trip taken with colleagues from work.
I could not find a dress at Old Navy that didn't hang like a muu muu off me.
I thought my arm was going to fall off after the first Twinrix shot.
I am having a crisis over which bags to take and which to leave home. They all want to go to Mexico and I think only two or three will be making the journey.
I have been told so many diarrhea stories that I am already taking Imodium.
Travel Companion A turned out to be a total ass hat of a boyfriend. Travel Companion B said if I could not find someone of the male and available persuasion to go, she would. Travel Companion C was a douche bag about coughing up a copy of his passport, taking days off, and cost me my entire budget for resort wear hundreds of dollars because he did not answer an email. Travel Companion B then had a family crisis that involves funeral plans. Travel companion D is happier than a pig in shit to be going.
Travel Companion A, no I will not have hate sex with you and you can go hump an ant hill.
Travel Companion B, stay strong girl. Be brave. Chin high, shoulders back, heels in the best pair of stiletto's you have.
Travel Companion C, you are not the only ride in the amusement park. Your loss. Again.
Travel Companion D, let's rawk.
Ya, so there's that.
Now, if you know me, you know my skin is pale. The kind of pale that is only one shade darker than albino. And when one is off to Mexico but is currently residing in the North Pole, one must "pre-tan." Sounds simple enough, right? I have been tanning before, I own ceramic protective eye wear, and I know how to nude up in less than two minutes. Yes, this is important information for all of you who do not tan and keep in mind, I was naked for what I am about to describe to you. OK, just the tanning bed part. Things can get pretty sexy at The Office, but we keep it G-rated. Who am I kidding, it is all NC-17 in that place.
The lovely Della, Queen of the Countdown to Mexico, and I have been tanning buddies for a couple of weeks now. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I have a date with Della at 12:30 to go get microwaved. Last Friday was particularly stressful as I had to empty my savings account onto my credit card to pay for Travel Companion C's cluster fuck bullshit game playing (ya, I said it and I meant it). It was exacerbated by Judy The Travel Agent when she called to say the credit card number I had given her was invalid. Big sighs of relief when it was discovered she had transposed the last two numbers. BIG SIGHS. I have never been so close to needing to jump half the people I work with for their antidepressants.
The lunch date tanning session was supposed to relieve all these frustrations. On a regular day it would. Not on this day and not in tanning room three. I did the typical flight of the bumble bee to nude up, goggle up, and jump in the bed. As I lay there na-na'ing with Rhianna, I heard some creaking from above me. I was mindful of it but did not pay much attention as I was more concerned with finding the optimum tanning position and Drake's "uuuuuuhh".
I should have paid attention.
At about the seven minute mark, the Plexiglas from the top side of the tanning bed came crashing down on me. Yes, it was no longer part of the tanning bed and I was nakedly sandwiched between it and the rest of the bed, having a near death experience and totally freaking out leaving me to quickly ponder my future. Why? There are speakers attached to that tanning bed. Speakers that have electricity flowing through them and they are about to kill me.
I cannot remember all of what went through my mind at that moment but it was all prefaced with "I am naked, I am not a size two, I cannot scream for help. I am uber fucked." I managed to slide and then push and fall my way out from under the Plexiglas and onto the floor of the tanning room. By this time, I was nakedly crawling about the room with my eyes squished shut (protective eye wear seems to be the first thing to fail you in a tanning crisis), feeling my way around to the stop button, not so conveniently located in the back of the bed. When I opened my eyes, I was relieved to find that the speakers on the Plexiglas are actually just covers and the speakers are actually hard wired into the top of the bed.
Big sighs.
Am not dead.
Am naked on my hands and knees, with my ass up in the are like I am worshipping some tanning god.
Are we there yet?
PS:
To the The Office Goddess... thank you for being you. Thank you for having shoulders to cry on, hugs that make the pain go away, and boobies to rub up against.
I'm just going to come out and say it.
I do not support the war effort or Canada's participation in that mess in the Middle East. I do not recognize Queen Elizabeth as a queen, much less the queen of Canada. I would never take an oath where I had to swear on a Bible that I would protect and defend her either. I think it is time we removed Lizzie's face from our currency and stopped singing "God Save The Queen."
I'm pretty sure that all of this is going to get me kicked out of Canada, even though I bleed maple leafs.
Whatever. Prince William needs hair plugs and Kate Middleton looks like she's been rode hard and put away wet. Even the monarchy are not immune to human trappings like male pattern baldness and emaciation and fatigue resulting from blind ambition.
So there's that.
What I do support are the troops, the military personnel who took an oath to protect Canada and all that this country is and stands for.
Bless you for not being as selfish as I am.
