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Hey! If you haven't heard already, Vancouver's First Furry Convention is coming to town, and they're looking for volunteers.

I found out a few days ago, when my co-worker was approached by a fresh-faced kid wearing a fedora and a cape. As I read over the poster that he was hoping to put up, I had to stifle a laugh, but I agreed that nothing about it was offensive.

As soon as he left, I asked my co-worker if she knew what a furry was. Her response: "Well, judging from that guy, some Jewish thing."

"Umm..."

"No, really. Did you see him? Totally a Jewish thing."

Once I told her what my understanding of a furry was, she ran over and took down the poster.

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Things are so great, thanks to alcohol....

Not sure who's still reading thing, but if you're interested, I will update on what I've been up to.


This bike has already died. I got it for free, and in the few weeks that I owned him, I broke the chain, replaced the chain, then had the derailleur get pulled into the back wheel (yes, I was changing gears going uphill. I suck, okay?) and then locked the totally broken bike to a sign post on the side of the road, came back in the morning and practically carried the damned thing back to my apartment in the hopes of fixing it, which didn't entirely work out, but man, it was fun unscrewing things and making the whole thing fall apart. I managed to take the derailleur cog? off and extricate it from the back wheel, and bashed at the wheel until it would move forward and backwards again.
Umm, anyway, that bike didn't last long. And when I finally put him in the back alley, another bike was lined up for donation. Yeah, I am the person who will take all of your old stuff. It's like charity, but sadder.
So my new bike is a 1993 Rocky Mountain Fusion. It has quick-release everything and clip pedals and some crazy wheels that are titanium or something. I brought it in for a tune up a few weeks ago, and am planning on learning all there is to know about how a bike works. The bike is in great condition, considering it was someone's commuter bike for 15 years, and then sat dormant in a bike locker for two more... And now, I get to find all of the fun equipment needed for cycling in Vancouver, including rain gear, panniers, etc.

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I know I mentioned it in my last post, but it didn't really sum up how I had been helping to plan and was about to carry out my father's funeral and burial. In the process, I ended up with my own grave plot, which seems a bit morbid for someone who just turned 30.

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Am feeling a bit stunned, partially from the amount of alcohol I've imbibed in the past two weeks, but also by how small over-looked details pop up at such inopportune moments. Reading through my dad's biography (it's not long, only a few paragraphs), with only two nights until the funeral, I suddenly felt bad because it didn't mention his love of soccer. Or his particular enjoyment of blow-em-up action movies. Isn't it strange what you remember about someone once they've passed away?

Talked for a long time with *tizbarb* last night about the guilt (tied to relief) that people feel when they lose someone to an illness. I feel less guilt and more regret though, because as much as I'd given up hope that my dad and I would ever really reconcile our differences, now we're definitely never going to. It's so sad to admit to myself that I was holding on to a tiny glimmer of hope that some day, I would have a dad who hugged me and told me how happy he was for what I'd become.

I guess now I can just focus on pretending that I'm anything close to fit enough to run this half marathon the day after the funeral.

Don't worry. It's going to be okay.
My dad was admitted to VGH on Friday night, and I visited him on Saturday morning, but couldn't bring myself to see him again that same day. Instead, I'd spent the rest of Saturday kind of moping around with *TM* and crying. Work had told me that they could cover my Saturday shift, but no one was available to cover Sunday night. I figured that since I didn't have a choice, that was fine.

Sunday morning, my oldest childhood friend got married on Burnaby Mountain, with a bright sun overhead and a cool breeze sweeping across the proceedings occasionally. There was a cute dog in a tuxedo and tie, and the bride and groom gave each other a high ten (?) after the kiss.

We moved into Horizons for hors d'oeuvres and sangria, followed by a five course lunch and a lot of wine.

It was the slickest wedding I've ever been to. My friend looked stunning, her husband seemed like a great guy, and they kept the silly games to a minimum.

Half way through lunch, I found out that my dad had passed away.

My mom had sternly advised me to keep the news to myself, for fear of bringing bad luck to the newlyweds, so I spent about an hour or two pretending like nothing was wrong (well, in the grand scheme of things, nothing was wrong). It was strange, having people tell me to say hello to my dad for them and awkwardly replying that I would. I had hoped to go to the hospital to meet up with my mom, but we weren't sure how much longer the lunch would be. Our ride up and down the mountain was my friend's cousin, and we were politely waiting for whenever she was going to leave.

By the time we left, it was clear that I was going to be late for work. I was a bit of a mess by then, and though *TM* said that I shouldn't have to go to work in the state I was in, I knew that I had to go in to at least close the store, since no one else was available. My manager called me to tell me that she was on the North Shore, or else she would have come in. So I worked a 4 hour shift, suffering the anger of customers who demanded to know why we were closing early (I just said that we didn't have enough staff to close later).

After work, feeling a bit lost, I headed down to Firefly and bought enough alcohol for a few days of crying and feeling sorry for myself. So hurrah for that. There's nothing quite like getting drunk and cleaning and baking before having to help plan a funeral.

In which I am disappointed in my company

Had an incident a week ago where one of our regulars was listening in on a conversation I was having with a barista. Keep in mind, the customer has a tattoo of the Harry Potter scar on his forehead and has legally changed his name to a mixture of a several popular fictional characters' names. At any rate, I was telling my barista about a homeless guy who has come in several times, fallen asleep in the store, spent hours drinking through our condiment bar milks and adding all of the powders until we ran out.

The customer balked, and said that it was obvious that the man couldn't pay for the milk, and I explained that regardless, we are not a charity and the items on the condiment stand are for paying customers.

After some scoffing and making faces behind my back to my barista, he called me over by name, and asked "Are you Jewish?"

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Have been sitting at home procrastinating for the past four hours. I know exactly what I should be doing, and that it probably wouldn't even take much time, but the fact is, I'm scared.

Found out on the morning after my birthday party that my dad has stage 4 liver cancer.

So far, I've been telling people with a sort of cheerful, 'Don't let this get you down', but it's entirely because I just don't want to turn into a sobbing wreck (like I am right now). As my brother, the Doctor, has informed me several times, this is the best health that my dad will ever be in... it's all downhill from here. And I've repeated this to people sort of casually, as though I don't understand what that entails. I kind of hoped that I could save up all the grieving and being upset until later, when things get really bad. But I guess emotions don't work that way.

So. I don't know how to deal with this. A lot of kind, close friends have offered up their help and a sympathetic ear, but the fact is, I'm not good at accepting help (not knowing what other people could do), nor do I know what to do with it without feeling a bit ashamed. So thank you, internet, for being the way that I can share how I'm feeling without the embarrassing SHOWING people how I'm feeling.

Free bandages and gauze!

Sun Run Number 2. Headed out pretty late, and so ended up behind what seemed like a few thousand people in the same class as me. Because of this, my experience this year was a lot closer to those of my friends who have run this race in the past. I spent a lot of this race dodging people and trying to run around groups of highschool students who had suddenly chosen to walk.

At around the 2 KM mark, I tripped on the road (yeah) and landed mostly on my hands and my left leg. (I've decided that I seem to hate my left leg, and therefore have to punish it regularly). I picked myself up and kept going, though my palms were stinging pretty badly. I thought that I might have skinned my knee, but didn't give it much thought.

Around the 6th kilometre I realized I was bleeding. A bright red trail of blood was headed down my leg, but nothing else was really wrong with me, so I figured that there would be some first aid at the end of the race.

Afterwards, the nice lady in the medical assistance tent was very sympathetic and talked about how difficult it was to dodge around so many people. I sheepishly agreed and didn't mention that I'd actually just tripped on the pavement with not a single person within ten feet of me.

I managed to pick up a juice box before heading to the meeting area, where *TM* had very kindly brought me a jacket and some very delicious cookies. Yay!

Time this year? 59:13. Yeah, I'll admit I was a bit disappointed, and if I hadn't been struggling to get past so many people, my time might have been better, but it's still 20 seconds faster than last year, and my photos might even include blood running down my leg as an added bonus. =)

Going for a run this morning...


Last year, the Sun Run was pushed into May due to the Olympics hogging up everything. It was a pleasant, pretty warm run.

This year, it's 4 degrees out there. Ugh. Still, better than the 2 degrees with freezing rain that was falling only three days ago.

In which I turn 30.

Celebrated my two-year anniversary with *TM* with dinner at Refuel yesterday night. Pork cheek terrine, fois gras, 40 day dry-aged steak and the Lois Lake halibut made for a pretty extravagant celebratory dinner. *TM* got me a lovely bouquet of flowers, which was a wonderful surprise.

Yep. It's a special day. No, not really. I started at 8:00 this morning, but I figured that since I wasn't doing anything exciting tonight, I may as well be useful and help out my old store by covering one of their shifts. The baristas were more upset about the idea than I was, which was cute. Then, during my evening shift, they bought me a slice of chocolate cake from "the place that will not be named" and wrote out a small card in highlighters and Sharpie. =)

Umm, I guess it's been a while, so I'll just list off the things I've been doing lately:

- getting rid of stuff (donating, putting things in the lobby for others to take and some things have simply gone into the garbage)
- buying second-hand clothes (because it's fun and a cheap sort of hobby. I've also pulled out my old sewing machine to do some alterations to things I've bought)
- running (the Sun Run is this Sunday, which is why I couldn't have a proper birthday party this week. Getting drunk before running 10K is not a great idea if you care about your time.
- working (my days off are now Wednesday and Thursday, which doesn't work very well for having a social life)
- breakfast (any day, but particularly on Saturday with Brunch Club) Over two years and still going strong.

Oh holy shit, that was the brightest flash of lightning and the loudest crack of thunder I have ever heard.

Did I mention that it was my birthday? I also happen to be drinking a good amount of port tonight.

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