tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41314932010-04-28T22:05:36.278-04:00WebGoddessCathyLiving life with passion in Toronto, and wherever I travel, including the things I'm passionate about: the Web, cooking, my new house, my relationships, stuff to do in Toronto and, of course, travelling.Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.comBlogger1329125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-62178658092272498532010-04-28T22:05:00.001-04:002010-04-28T22:05:28.718-04:00This blog has moved<br /> This blog is now located at http://blog.webgoddesscathy.com/.<br /> You will be automatically redirected in 30 seconds, or you may click <a href='http://blog.webgoddesscathy.com/'>here</a>.<br /><br /> For feed subscribers, please update your feed subscriptions to<br /> http://blog.webgoddesscathy.com/feeds/posts/default.<br /> <div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-6217865809227249853?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-85919262351702804832010-04-28T22:03:00.001-04:002010-04-28T22:03:05.905-04:00A day can make it all better, until it goes to poop again<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/virgomerry/30034483/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/22/30034483_3c268f3468_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/virgomerry/30034483/">View of Toronto from Ward's Island</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/virgomerry/">**Mary**</a></span></div>Last weekend was amazing.<br /><br />Seriously: I'm looking back on it today with a certain wistfulness. Right now, all I remember are the smiles and misty-rosy-joyous memories that are coloured by my crappy cold-sore-covered workday, and it was really quite wonderful.<br /><br />In actuality, there was a moment on Friday night when I worked late that wasn't so shiny-happy. Although coming home to watch Glee pretty much fixed it.<br /><br />And Saturday morning was slightly marred by some panic and consideration of staying home and doing chores. Thank goddess that didn't happen!<br /><br />Instead, we rode our bikes down the Don Valley and across on bike paths, mostly, to the ferry. Across on the ferry to Hanlan's Point. A lovely ride across to Ward's Island and a look at all the cute houses. Back to Centre Island to relax in the crappy Carousel Cafe for a hot chocolate (with whipped cream of course) and then back to Ward's for a house party pot luck -- Island Style.<br /><br />We had such a nice time. Everyone was so nice and brought such amazing food. I didn't want to stop eating. I was angry with my belly for being full. There were games and a song that they composed and we all sang to our friend for his bon-voyage from The Island. There was even a bonfire with the cityscape in the background. It couldn't get more perfect.<br /><br />We rode our bikes back and although I ran into the curb, completely sober, it was a wonderful way to end the evening.<br /><br />Next day, to make up for playing "hookey" my parents came over and we got stuff accomplished. We picked up Gordon's wedding suit and did some errands that needed a car and then did lots of landscaping projects.<br /><br />I now have less weeds and some mulch down in my front yard. I have a trellis with roses somewhat strapped into it. I have level patio stones and ground and some spreader onions planted.<br /><br />And Gordon made us an amazing dinner to top it all off. I couldn't have been happier.<br /><br />And then the week came and I was stressed and overwhelmed and all that good stuff and WHAM - got a really sexy cold sore that hurts like hell. Boo. Right before my trip to SF.<br /><br />But at least I have my rose-coloured memories for those moments when I can't kiss my fiance good night.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-8591926235170280483?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-17641020548323785892010-04-18T23:30:00.001-04:002010-04-18T23:30:33.429-04:00wedding dress<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thisyearsboy/18057144/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/13/18057144_5462b4a55c_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thisyearsboy/18057144/">wedding dress</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/thisyearsboy/">thisyearsboy</a></span></div>So I bought it. The dress.<br /><br />I tried on a lot. And none of them were better than this dress. And it was only $200. So there we go, done deal. Ordered.<br /><br />My mom's good for that: getting me to DO stuff. Another item I can tick off my list. And we had a lovely day together. Really quite relaxing and fun.<br /><br />And some other items off my list:<br /><br />1. Decided to only do the smaller reno, rather than the ginormous one. Really, the big reno? Not worth it. To my mental health, to our needs, for the return on investment. Small reno will be great.<br /><br />2. Gardening. Transplanted some bulbs (yes, I know it's late to be doing that).<br /><br />3. Made indian food. From SCRATCH! And it is awesome.<br /><br />4. Bills. Ok, not fun. But still done.<br /><br />5. Laundry. As above. BUT I got to use my clothes line for the first time this year.<br /><br />6. Groceries and a few household necessities. Anything that involves Winners has to be fun, though, right?<br /><br />7. Watched Sherlock Holmes. Finally. Well, come ON, I had to do it at some point! And I quite liked it.<br /><br />8. Tested my wedding website RSVP. It needs work, but it's not terrible.<br /><br />9. Made some decisions on wedding gifts and centre pieces (thanks goes to my mom and dad for all the natural resources and elbow grease)<br /><br />All in all, a productive happy weekend. And when I'm happy, everyone's a lot happier, really.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-1764102054832378589?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-17702257491390635112010-04-10T10:05:00.001-04:002010-04-10T10:05:20.725-04:00Anywhere but here<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/webgoddesscathy/2626518616/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3190/2626518616_d639a637b5_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/webgoddesscathy/2626518616/">On the dock, Canada Day Weekend</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/webgoddesscathy/">webgoddesscathy</a></span></div>This is where I want to be right now.<br /><br />OK, maybe not with this particular weather pattern. But you know what I'm saying? I just wanna be somewhere else that isn't here. And I want to have this smile on my face. My shoulders decidedly dropped away from my ears. Perhaps a lovely magazine or cheesey book on my lap. And no plans but to read 'em.<br /><br />I've been having issues with sleep lately. With Spinning-Head Syndrome. A touch of Butterflyitis and preoccupation. Lacking an ability to focus.<br /><br />I woke up this morning (Saturday morning) at 7am. Just opened my eyes. My stomach immediately started churning. Groan. I'm awake.<br /><br />So I made the best of it. I boiled water for tea. Cleaned up the kitchen from our Thursday-night dinner party. Sat down with a homemade london fog and a Canadian House & Home magazine. Normally, this is all it takes. It's my favourite time of the week.<br /><br />No deal.<br /><br />My head is pounding and my stomach is still doing flips. I've got both a marathon and a sprint going on in my noggin. There's the long-term house renovation plan, finances and marriage consideration. Plod, plod, plod. Keep going, you'll make it through, right? Then there's the groceries and painting project and banking and wedding invitations. Nevermind the gardening, dishes, floors, bathroom, exercising and dress-procurement that I should get around to.<br /><br />The problem is, there's nothing really wrong. I mean, getting married and renovating my house, cleaning after a night with friends, working hard at my interesting job and figuring out how to invest the money I do have... I should be so lucky to have such "problems".<br /><br />I know. Fortunate.<br /><br />And yet I feel... burnt out. I'm looking for cracks in my schedule so I can fit in more of the stuff I'm supposed to accomplish. Knowing that really what I need is more "me time." On a dock. In the sunshine. With a book.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-1770225749139063511?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-29858956333618929572010-03-30T20:46:00.001-04:002010-03-30T20:46:21.411-04:00Chocolate covered WHAT?!<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mattmendoza/3802286615/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3576/3802286615_508621a262_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mattmendoza/3802286615/">Chocolate covered bacon cross section</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/mattmendoza/">gtrwndr87</a></span></div>Sometimes you just have to do it.<br /><br />You know it's bad. Naughty. Wrong, even. But you still need to know.<br /><br />Can bacon really be eaten with chocolate? I'm here to tell you it can.<br /><br />It started with a birthday party for a beloved who adores, as you can imagine, bacon. Because who among us does not, really? Even the vegetarians out there secretly love bacon. They munch on it back-alley-styles. I'm not naive; I know it happens.<br /><br />But they've never been brave enough for this. As soon as Amie suggested it, I knew I was in. My place.<br /><br />Yes, there were seven cop cars parked outside my abode. No, it was not because they suspected our illicit activity. They were just cleaning up after a stabbing. Yes, a real one. And not a pig either. So, you know, it was just a usual Toronto evening in my hood. Stabbing and chocolate-covered pork products. On the same street.<br /><br />Amie had bought several kinds of bacon and we tried a few ways of cooking it. The most effective? Bake it on cookie sheets in the oven (baking sheets with lips, of course - just say "no" to grease fires!) and drain the fat after each batch. Yes, you'll make more than one batch. Otherwise, what's the point?<br /><br />Cool the bacon on paper towels. Give 'em a pat-pat-squeeze. I know it's a bit of a waste of perfectly good phosphate-filled fat, but you'll thank me in the end.<br /><br />Melt the chocolate chips. Go for the semi-sweet. I mean, what were you going to use those for anyway? Cookies? Pansy. The easiest was the microwave for melting. Melt for a quick sec, stir, melt, stir, melt, stir. Until it's smooth.<br /><br />Get some waxed paper on a pan or plate.<br />It's time.<br /><br />Take a strip of bacon. Dunk one side down in the chocolatey goodness, then roll it over to coat the other side. You're going to have to let go of the bacon to get good coverage. It's OK though, it just means you'll get some chocolate on your fingers and you can lick it off later. But if you can stand to share your pork-bars, then you might wanna resist the temptation to spread your cooties around for now.<br /><br />Place the shiny strip on the wax paper. Repeat until you've filled up the waxed paper without touching the pieces together. Put the whole thing in the fridge. Then, wham, bam, a few minutes later, the chocolate's all hard. And the bacon will be hiding -- lurking -- inside.<br /><br />Now's your chance. Take it by surprise. Just bite right in.<br /><br />You'll think: chew, chew, hm, kinda salty-sweet-crunchy like a Skor bar.<br /><br />Chew. Chew.<br />Chew.<br /><br />Um. That's bacon in there. Smokey meat. Yep.<br /><br />Chew, swallow, repeat. You know the drill. Go for it.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-2985895633361892957?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-13864009307518954642010-03-28T22:42:00.001-04:002010-03-28T22:42:18.103-04:00Planning<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/angelslens/853070269/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1292/853070269_d98fc08e3a_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/angelslens/853070269/">My grandmother's wedding rings</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/angelslens/">winged photography</a></span></div>I guess I expected my wedding to be different.<br /><br />I'm not a bridezilla. I haven't been thinking about this since I was seven.<br /><br />I thought: we have a small budget, surely there must come a lower number of silly details that can go wrong.<br /><br />No chance. Smaller budgets mean that people work harder to figure out how they can get a piece of it and loosen that budget up. I guess there are those women who will shrug and lay down the cash. I'm not one of them.<br /><br />Several emails, phone calls, negotiations and yelling matches later, it's worked out. Mostly. A few small details and we're good to go. With compromise.<br /><br />And now I start looking at officiants that we can both be happy with. Wedding bands that look fine and won't break the bank. Ordering THE dress. I know which one it is by now. And shoes. Where to look for those special shoes?<br /><br />Oh. I guess I should invite some people. Huh. And I thought the tough stuff was over.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-1386400930751895464?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-70716735627356957082010-03-21T21:48:00.001-04:002010-03-21T21:48:12.846-04:00Food just makes it all better<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chatiryworld/3468923860/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3663/3468923860_567a149a4f_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chatiryworld/3468923860/">Roast butternut squash ravioli and red pepper coulis</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/chatiryworld/">chatirygirl</a></span></div>I have had a very good food weekend.<br /><br />Check this out:<br /><br />FRIDAY:<br />Homemade Thai red curry (veggie) over mixed grain rice<br /><br />SATURDAY:<br />Pad Kee Mao (Drunken noodles)<br /><br />SUNDAY:<br />Breakfast - Pancakes with homemade banana caramel sauce<br /><br />Lunch - Grilled goat cheese and pear sandwich<br /><br />Dinner - Homemade squash (OK, pumpkin from my parents' garden, but close enough) and goat cheese ravioli with homemade tomato sauce (inspired by recent restaurant meals this week).<br /><br />I'm full and I'm happy. And, yes, I know I've gained a few winter pounds. But as the weather improves, so does my interest in walking and biking everywhere.<br /><br />But I really ENJOY cooking with Gordon. And I love that he can cook now. He's so fearless. And it's all part of an effort to save money on eating out -- since this wedding is trying to be expensive (I am fighting it!). Note that we have enough meals in the fridge for almost every lunch next week!<br /><br />I had a tough week last week. The wedding venue is not cooperating with us yet. ("What? We promised WHAT budget?! Perhaps you could invite LESS people. Or not have a photographer or DJ or cake or flowers or decorations at all." It took every ounce of my self-control to not freak out about how many people I am not able to invite already. But I am continuing to breathe normally. This, too, shall pass.) But cooking has really been taking my mind off it. That, and the fact that I think I've found my dress! ($215 - WOOT!)<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-7071673562735695708?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-57659004443334980642010-03-14T21:46:00.002-04:002010-03-14T22:14:39.177-04:00Sometimes I'm just that good<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/S52PxGa8S7I/AAAAAAAAB6g/EpXUHZ2s8Hw/homedepot-bathroom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 230px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/S52PxGa8S7I/AAAAAAAAB6g/EpXUHZ2s8Hw/homedepot-bathroom.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I don't know what happens sometimes. But sometimes I'm on fire.<br /><br />It seems like it has a lot to do with productivity or at least perceived productivity. But check out this weekend of ass-kicking:<br /><ul><li>Friday night with my mom after getting her cheap Chinese grocery store veggies and egg tarts. We dined on, guess what? egg tarts. And chrysanthemum tea.</li><li>Saturday morning, up and out the door to meet Ev so she can see me try on what might be "the dress"</li><li>We visit Anita and Benjamin (her very happy, cute boy) and I give her the baby quilt that my mom had brought on Friday. We ate, we chatted, etc. Haven't seen her since Ben was born, basically.</li><li>Ev drops me at Yorkdale. I figure I might as well take advantage of a Saturday night at the megaplex and go see Avatar (after reading home reno mags at Chapters - my fave pastime)</li><li>Sunday morning, up looking purposefully through my magazines for bathroom reno inspiration shots for my upcoming reno. And drinking homemade london fogs. Also my favourite thing to do on weekends.</li><li>Call a dress shop AGAIN regarding a price.</li><li>Measure up spaces where I want to put particular pieces of furniture so I know what to look for.</li><li>Take back all beer cans.</li><li>Walk to Danforth to try on dresses.</li><li>Walk to Home Depot to get paint for the coffee table I picked up a couple weeks ago on the sidewalk. Also picked out several bathroom items. See picture. This is totally what I'm going for, style-wise. And brought home what I think will be the colour for the back of my front door. Red. "Cranberry Whip."<br /></li><li>Pick up a few groceries.</li><li>Walk to the used furniture stores (OK, some were already closed) to look for aforementioned furniture</li><li>Chinatown for a few more groceries</li><li>Make jalapeno cornbread (mmm!)</li><li>Make lentil soup (the BEST one I've made ever!)</li><li>Clean kitchen, including dishes by hand.<br /></li><li>Figure out how to upload photos from my phone to my computer. Telus tries to make it like you can't. But you can. OK, yes, I know it took me a while to figure out. I was busy.<br /></li><li>Talk to my sister. Look up her potential bridesmaid dresses and comment.</li><li>Talk to boyfriend. Realize that I'm probably this productive because he's not around.<br /></li></ul>WHEW!<br /><br />Next up:<br /><ul><li>Email the wedding lady reminding her she said she'd work to the budget I gave her. Seriously, would pay for a $40-meal anywhere and NOT get a napkin? Come <span style="font-style: italic;">on</span>.<br /></li><li>Email the photographer about some ideas for his price coming down.</li><li>Bed time.<br /></li></ul><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-5765900444333498064?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-34449936790168328062010-02-27T12:42:00.004-05:002010-02-27T23:25:55.656-05:00My own personal olympics<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/WebGoddessCathy/SkiTrip2010#5442004766609097794"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 332px" alt="" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/S4XigJO3xEI/AAAAAAAABpk/w_a9Dt7TXgM/s512/IMGP5146.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I'm on vacation this week. Skiing in the Rockies, if you aren't on Facebook (otherwise you'd know - or you might gather that by looking at the photo).</div><div></div><div>It's something we do each year, my family and I. Sometimes a few more, sometimes a few less of us.</div><div></div><div>I'm not the greatest skiier -- I learned in my teens, I guess. But I never did much after that. Not until I started up again about 10 years ago. I tried, briefly, snowboarding. Two bruised hips, black-and-blue wrists and lessons later, I wondered why I bothered. Why put myself through the agony when I already knew how to ski?</div><div></div><div>So I bought the skiis. Online, cheap. And boots. And out I went.</div><div></div><div>It's been a long haul, this re-learning. Finally, I'm doing little baby jumps. Each time, I get a huge thrill: "WHOA!" Everyone knows when I'M getting a little air.</div><div></div><div>I know I'm pretty crap at it. But every time I get a little bit better. And when I stop to look around at the gorgeous snow-covered mountains and listen to the deafening silence, I'm so glad I'm doing this. I'm winning my own little gold medals every time I go out there.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-3444993679016832806?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-76696781410828765252010-02-17T21:38:00.001-05:002010-02-17T21:38:17.184-05:00I'm watching<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26349479@N07/4354788542/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2784/4354788542_c988288e94_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26349479@N07/4354788542/">Olympics rings Vancouver</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/26349479@N07/">adrian8_8</a></span></div>I'll admit it.<br />I'm watching.<br /><br />I don't own a TV, but we have a computer with a good screen. And I'm not sure how it happened, but I guess my fiance loves me SO much that he'll even watch figure skating with me.<br /><br />We've watched moguls and snowboarding and hockey and figure skating (pairs and men's) and speed skating. All of which I'm pretty sure he doesn't give a crap about.<br /><br />But we've been watching a little (to a lot) each day.<br /><br />For someone who's planning a wedding, running a website, renovating, getting ready for her vacation, volunteers and does all the other usual stuff including cooking and sewing, I'd say it's pretty impressive that it's all getting done. (Thank goodness for Family Day!)<br /><br />Yes. I just said I'm making time to watch TV.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-7669678141082876525?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-71049351681923785122010-02-02T21:34:00.001-05:002010-02-02T21:34:15.638-05:00geeking out<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/herbstkind/2202924903/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2096/2202924903_0b4608a9e1_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/herbstkind/2202924903/">computer girl</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/herbstkind/">herbstkind</a></span></div>Sure. I work on a computer all day.<br /><br />I could be said to do "geek work" by some. But that's really only if one doesn't know what I do. Yes, I do some HTML. I find and resize relevant Creative Commons graphics. I even create social media accounts and utilize their widgets in my own professional sites. I test features and submit bug reports and teach other people how to do the same. And to blog and use a content management system. I figure out how to make point-and-click softwares work together.<br /><br />But mostly I work on online strategy, which is basically communications that just happens to be online. Different, sure. But communications all the same.<br /><br />I'm not a coder.<br /><br />I know enough design to be a nuisance to a real designer. I dabble in information architecture. I edit blogs. I manage a team.<br /><br />But I'm not a coder. I'm also not a network gal. So, really, in the grand scheme of geeks, I'm not all that geeky (much as I wish I were, I would be insulting the truly amazing geeky people I know if I put myself in the same category). I get annoyed when I think about changing systems that I've set up that are working but I can't remember exactly why.<br /><br />So when Blogger emails me that that they're moving away from how I do things on my own blog (because only .5% of people do it this way -- although I'll bet you it's the really smart, hard-core bloggers who do - ha!)... well, I had a moment of panic.<br /><br />I started reading their documentation about what I was going to have to do. And it all seemed so easy until the dreaded "unless" came up. And wouldn't you know it -- my situation is the one detailed under the oh-so-unlikely "unless" caveat.<br /><br />What does that mean? It means that I'm going to have to work harder than all the other .5% to move my blog to something that works for me and for you, the people who read this blog. And I've been reading for the past two hours to ensure I know what I need to know to sort out what I need to do. <br /><br />It all has to do with my custom domain, webgoddesscathy.com. And that I've been using webgoddesscathy.com/blog as my blog address. And that my host provider doesn't make it easy for me to switch to blog.webgoddesscathy.com. <br /><br />I know, riveting stuff.<br />My first instinct was to move on to something easier. Like buying an iron with my Aeroplan points. But I decided NOT to have ADD tonight. I decided to focus on ONE thing and see it through to the end.<br /><br />And, let me tell you, it made me feel pretty geeky again. All that DNS and subdomain talk - it's hot.<br /><br />But what it did not get me was to the end of the task. Nope, because in the end, I had to put in a support ticket to see if there was anything I could do.<br /><br />And once I get THAT answer back, I have to make the next decision: switch to a new blogging service or just piss off all the two people who read my blog: my mom (HI!) and her friend Marlene (Hi Mar - I know you're gonna be so excited that I mentioned your name!). OK, and Raye, Steph and maybe Kat. I know from my stats there are others, but you don't really post comments so I can't name you. (Apparently David still reads me from time to time - yay! - so hi to you, too!)<br /><br />So it's all to say that:<br /><br />a) I like geeking out and wish I had more time so I didn't feel so stupid when I did get down to it<br /><br />b) I wish blogger had chosen a better time to change their service<br /><br />c) It's probably a good thing they're doing this as it may force me to redesign and goddess knows how much that is needed. (For goddessakes, it wasn't even on my New Year's resolution list!)<br /><br />d) Now you know what I do... mostly.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-7104935168192378512?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-89199791783393666632010-01-31T21:43:00.001-05:002010-01-31T21:43:31.344-05:00Alone<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/muehlinghaus/204169004/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/61/204169004_b779703057_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/muehlinghaus/204169004/">2006-04-23 We all want eternity</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/muehlinghaus/">[ henning ]</a></span></div>Sometimes I want to be alone.<br /><br />It feels almost as if I'm sick. The tug in my stomach is insistent, but not always specific. I don't always know it's time. But I always know there's something wrong.<br /><br />It's a wonder with all the amazing people I know and how much I truly do value their presence that I could possibly feel that sometimes it would just be better to be unknown. Because it's not just alone that I want. Or silence. It's being around those I don't know. Being anonymous. Wandering. With no expectations. Allowed to be selfish. Or not. But as I choose.<br /><br />I do need to have more time for myself and my thoughts. For nothingness. For lack of things to do. Without guilt.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-8919979178339366663?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-28064747788284921732010-01-26T23:06:00.002-05:002010-01-26T23:06:48.667-05:00Thinking<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pocketcanoe/3630683328/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3328/3630683328_87973c9213_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a><br /><span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0.9em;" ><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pocketcanoe/3630683328/">pocketcanoe</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/pocketcanoe/">pocketcanoe</a></span></div>I do my best thinking when I'm walking by myself at night. And tonight I was thinking a lot.<br /><br />I was thinking that I've been all stressed out lately. Overwhelmed. A little bit short-tempered. A wedding, a renovation, a work situation that's impossible to win right now. It would do it to most people, I'm sure.<br /><br />And then I went to teach. And my learner, well, he's been doing something thinking too. About what he's going to do with his life. Or just about how to get a job. Or even some work in general.<br /><br />As we compared stories (me: "I'm just so busy; there's no time to do all the stuff I want to do" - him: "I'm so bored.") I wistfully thought about a time when I did so much fun stuff. When I remembered what life is really about (which is to say NOT work, NOT getting "ahead", NOT how much one can accomplish in one lifetime, not even how much one can experience in one lifetime, but how much one can enjoy each moment in a lifetime). I did lots of stuff. But I didn't worry about the stuff I wasn't doing. Because it didn't matter.<br /><br />And suddenly I remembered that I'd been forgetting my all-important mantra: NOTHING is really all THAT important.<br /><br />The wedding? It will pass. Most people regret worrying about one day so much anyway. It'll either be stupid or fine, but stress-free will make it that much better.<br /><br />The renovation? Worst case scenario, it could wait until I have more money and more time. Or I could do the big government payback parts and leave the rest til later. I could pay people to just take care of MORE of it instead of trying to do it myself. Or I could do nothing. It's not the worst place in the world. I've managed to live here quite some time with it in sub-perfect condition. Imagine that.<br /><br />Work? It's just a website. And while everyone loves to have an opinion on websites and imagine that they could do better or know what exactly should be done because they're just that smart... well, it's still just a website. I am not judged on the quality of the website (not, at least, by the people who care most about me -- in fact, they don't really understand websites all that much and just love that there's a picture of me on it).<br /><br />it will all pass. All of THIS.<br /><br />The blog that needs to be edited. The performance goals that need to set. The strategy that needs to be devised. The venue that must be found. The money that needs to be saved. The dress that needs to look hot. The contractors that need to be guided. The estimates that need to be reviewed. The budget that needs to be trimmed. The investments that need to be researched.<br /><br />All of the things that seem so important right now will someday be that thing that I may or may not remember doing all those years ago that really had no significant effect on my future.<br /><br />And so, I thought, as I walked home, let's focus on that enjoyment of every moment thing... while of course achieving a few goals along the way (let's not go crazy now and pretend I can give them all up and go hippie-styles).<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-2806474778828492173?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-45520287947176547252010-01-14T23:31:00.001-05:002010-01-14T23:31:53.386-05:00wedding dresses<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/steventom/38256590/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/30/38256590_b5180ea5ba_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/steventom/38256590/">wedding dresses</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/steventom/">killrbeez</a></span></div>There are a lot of wedding dresses in the world.<br /><br />Most of them are:<br />a) Not in my budget<br />b) Not my style<br />c) Pretty, but not sold in shops I've been to<br /><br />So where does that leave me?<br /><br />It leaves me with lots of dress-trying. Which, really, if you think about it, isn't that bad. <br /><br />I don't spend any money. I get to shop. I get to play dress-up. I get to pretend. I get to gag. I get to laugh. And every so often I get to consider.<br /><br />I've tried on three that aren't terrible. But one of them only came in dark brown, so let's say two. And really, if I had to get one of those, it wouldn't be the worst thing that ever happened.<br /><br />I'd have to say that the wedding dress shopping is my favourite part of the whole wedding planning fiasco. Good thing that I have much more of it ahead of me!<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-4552028794717654725?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-10932886245293474692010-01-10T10:40:00.004-05:002010-01-10T11:11:35.257-05:00Resolutions: Finding joy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs122.snc3/16968_395212535087_637380087_10613894_7446247_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 354px;" src="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs122.snc3/16968_395212535087_637380087_10613894_7446247_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I've been thinking over the past week about the holidays. And life.<br /><br />Life was pretty stressful prior to the holidays. I know what you're thinking: "Didn't you just go on holidays to wonderfully warm resort island?"<br /><br />Why yes, we did. And it was lovely. And I did relax quite a bit. But I got back to work for a week and it was all undone for me. I scrambled to see everyone I could for the holidays and get shopping done and baking. Not that those things are tough things to do, but they took time -- time which was in short supply and meant that I had a deficit of time for myself.<br /><br />The holidays, thankfully, supplied that. Time to myself. But also time with family. Time to pretty much do nothing. And it's a good thing, too, because that luxury won't be afforded to me again for a very long time. Why? check out my list of "things to do this year" :<br /><ol><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Plan a wedding. Get married.</span><br />I thought this would be fun and easy because we're agreed that it will be small and not formal or traditional. Turns out everyone has an opinion (as I was warned) and "small, informal and untraditional" means different things to different people. It resulted in a few tears and some need to stop talking, regroup and make lots of compromises. Still no decisions, but we're well on our way to some options. The best part so far has been trying on dresses even though most of them are terrible.<br /></li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Renovate the second floor of my house.</span><br />You might have seen the pictures, or read the posts about the renovation of my first floor. I'm still working on it, in fact, over a year later, but it's getting there. I've got to make architectural plans because I <span style="font-style: italic;">think</span> this might be a floor-plan-changing endeavour. I've got to put together inspiration photos from my home decor magazines and I've got to get a contractor on the job who doesn't suck. Oh, and don't forget the budget, which will likely quadrupal the budget of the wedding.<br /></li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Be more active.</span><br />I've lately become dissatisfied with my shape. It's not that I'm necessarily bigger than I was. But definitely less toned. My back hurts when I even just sit there, doing nothing, never mind when I undertake heavy lifting. My core stabilizers needs strengthening. My cardio needs some work. But I'm wondering how to fit this in, what with all the other stuff that I'm doing. My idea is to try to fit it in with social time and everyday transportation.</li></ol>I had some other ideas this New Year's. Like, cook more. Which has benefits for my pocketbook and likely my waistline as well, which feeds into other items on my list. And figure out how to reduce my house's impact on my allergies. Which should help me sleep and make me feel more energized, helping me feel like being active. And partly feeds into the house renovation (as well as cleaning, cleaning and more cleaning).<br /><br />But everything requires planning. And I'm my planning muscles are a little overworked. I'm taking it in bite-sized chunks, but it's starting to feel a bit like I never get time off. I'm always working. It makes Cathy a grump.<br /><br />So, do I need yet <span style="font-style: italic;">another</span> resolution? To take more time off? To have more fun. To calm the F down? It begs the question: how do achievers fit enjoyment into their life? I suppose it means a change in the way you think about things: find ways to enjoy cleaning, cooking, planning, being active, and all the rest of it.<br /><br />Perhaps that is the final resolution: Find joy in the everyday.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-1093288624529347469?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-13345290696732605482010-01-05T21:18:00.001-05:002010-01-05T21:18:56.509-05:00Winter Wonderland overcomes winter blahs<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/justingaynor/3114129160/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3102/3114129160_df56225f71_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/justingaynor/3114129160/">Winter Wonderland</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/justingaynor/">justingaynor</a></span></div>I'm sitting at home now, in front of my computer with my Christmas tree lights on, drinking mint tea.<br /><br />My toes have that itchy feeling they get after they've been really cold and wet. Like they're defrosting.<br /><br />I've just been stood up by my learner. I'm a literacy tutor. I teach on Tuesday nights, usually, unless my learner cancels. He once asked me why I do this for free -- what do I get out of it? I get a different perspective on life. I get to remember what's really important. I get to feel like I'm making a difference in someone's life.<br /><br />None of them small things, to be sure.<br /><br />Except when I rush to leave work on time and spend the $3 in TTC fare (seriously, when does it become too much?) to go all the way there just to find out he's not coming... suddenly those things don't seem very important at all.<br /><br />But tonight I decided to turn it around. Turn the disappointment into an opportunity. So I walked home. It takes an hour and 15 minutes to walk in good weather. Not so much on slushy, slippery sidewalks. Especially when you have to duck into Shoppers Drug Mart to warm up and browse the wedding magazines.<br /><br />Honestly, the time went by quickly. My mind wandered. What will I say at my performance review? What kind of wedding dress do I want? Where should I have the wedding? Whom should I have over for dinner next? What should I tackle next on the house? How can I get more exercise into my life without paying for a gym membership?<br /><br />Before I knew it, I was home. My feet were wet, but I wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, I picked up the snow shovel and cleared my sidewalk, walkway and steps. Gordon asked me if I was feeling OK.<br /><br />I think I needed the time. I needed to walk in the snow and enjoy the evening. Not talk to anyone. Window shop. And breathe. <br /><br />It was the best Christmas present I got.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-1334529069673260548?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-78177315604227993292009-12-17T20:54:00.002-05:002009-12-17T21:13:21.225-05:00So, ya, I'm engaged<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/gpolevoy/Engage#5415637899109030786"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 237px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_GUUidqEUHGM/Syg1-diJW4I/AAAAAAAAEMk/sqd_MKwGGoE/s640/IMG_1121.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />If you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or in general just KNOW me, then you probably already know that I got engaged on Tuesday.<br /><br />You might have even seen this picture and/or my ring.<br /><br />What you might not know yet is the story.<br /><br />Tuesday night, I was working a little late at work. I called Gordon to let him know that I was about to shut down my computer and ride my bike home.<br /><br />"Did you figure out dinner?" I asked with trepidation, not at all thinking he had.<br /><br />"Yes."<br /><br />I nearly cried right there. I was so relieved as I'd had a bad day/week, trying to catch up after my amazing vacation. There was just SO much. And nothing was working out. And it felt like I had to do everything myself. I just wanted some help with SOMETHING. And here, he'd taken care of dinner!<br /><br />"Oh thank you thank you thank you," I gushed tearfully.<br /><br />"Yeah, I'm badass."<br /><br />Whatever. So I take off on my bike. It's snowing. The first snow that I've been in all year. Sucks (although admittedly pretty if I weren't so damn cold and riding my bike). I'm greeted by a dark house. Assuming Gordon's upstairs, I carry my bike up and inside my house.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/gpolevoy/Engage#5415637692238527122"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 335px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_GUUidqEUHGM/Syg1ya4X-pI/AAAAAAAAEMY/3Cd0TUbjdig/s512/IMG_1119.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>On come the lights. Gordon appears from around the corner... in a <span style="font-style: italic;">Star Trek uniform</span>. Commander class - basically, he's Captain Pickard with hair (actually, really good hair and in my opinion, better looking, though his accent is lacking).<br /><br />"Cathy Bogaart," he says seriously, "Engage." And he makes the motion... the engage hand signal that Pickard always uses. And there, held out, is a ring.<br /><br />I look at the ring, I look at him. Ring, him. He's wearing a Star Trek uniform, so clearly this is a joke. Back to the ring. Ring looks real. Back to Gordon. Still holding out his hand with that ring.<br /><br />I cock my head uncertainly, "For real?"<br /><br />"Yes," he says, nodding. "What are you going to do with it?" He asks, as I stand staring at it, thinking how pretty it is. But he hasn't asked me a yes or no question. I point this out.<br /><br />"That's all you're getting from me." Apparently someone is Mr. Tough Guy all of a sudden.<br /><br />I can't put it on because I'm still wearing my mittens and carrying my keys. I shove it all at him and take off my bike helmet. I put the ring on and it's perfect and of course it's right because we're right together. We kiss and I'm laughing and crying at the same time. I think I've been doing this for some time now.<br /><br />We drink a bottle of champagne while we call, text and write to various friends and relatives. And take pictures. And then we order Pizza Hut. Basically, it's the perfect evening with my dorky fiance. Fiance? Weird. Will I get used to that?<br /><br />Anyway, that's the story.<br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/gpolevoy/Engage#" target="_blank">See more pictures here ></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-7817731560422799329?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-81352939973913742172009-12-14T23:12:00.002-05:002009-12-14T23:18:46.381-05:00Back from the land of sun and sand<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-h.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs022.snc3/10941_347485350087_637380087_10163129_5799369_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 344px;" src="http://photos-h.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs022.snc3/10941_347485350087_637380087_10163129_5799369_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />We're back.<br />Belatedly, but we're back.<br /><br />And I'm tanned. I know, big shock.<br /><br />You know, I wasn't looking forward to this vacation. What with all the work stress and other stressful events going on in life just before this, I was ready to just do a staycation. I was loathing the early-morning trek to the airport. The stress of travelling with someone who gets stressed about travelling.<br /><br />But it all turned out great. We spent too much money. We got a bit of sun. I got a pretty bauble. We swam and snorkelled and drove zodiaks and slept and ate way too much and met the most wonderful people.<br /><br />We definitely took way too many pictures of sunsets and not enough of me enjoying the sun and sand so that I could use that for my blog photo. Quelle domage!<br /><br />But we're back. And I'm already looking forward to next year.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-8135293997391374217?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-48446807509421099372009-11-30T22:48:00.001-05:002009-11-30T22:48:17.755-05:00Powerful women<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/marsdd/2100395661/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2374/2100395661_2f67e16413_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/marsdd/2100395661/">Wendy, Cathy, Veronika, Ilse</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/marsdd/">mars_discovery_district</a></span></div>I'm pretty strongly focussed on my career: doing well at it and achieving.<br /><br />But I wouldn't necessarily call myself "powerful". Interesting when I work in a company that is so wonderfully rich with female role models. Certainly it's all led by my CEO, Ilse Treurnicht.<br /><br />She's the first person that I've worked for that I've truly admired. And she's built an environment filled with exceptionally intelligent, talented women who make the organization sing.<br /><br />Tonight, she was honoured as one of <a target="_blank" href="http://www.wxnetwork.com/about.aspx">Canada's Most Powerful Women Top 100 Awards</a>, in the category of "Trail blazer". It did what it was likely supposed to do: inspired me.<br /><br />I sat around a table with other amazing women, all at different stages of their careers. Even in the midst of one of the biggest projects of my career (which Ilse mentioned during dinner -- we're all excited about it) I still managed to squeeze in some thoughts about "what next?"<br /><br />All of these women are so amazing and have done such amazing things. There's no reason I can't be just like them. I'm just not sure what I need to do or be to get there. I know that I want to continue to work in organizations that have meaning. I absolutely want to do good. And I need to use my brain. And learn from people who are smarter than I am. I want to be surrounded by these really amazing people, no matter where I go. I want to learn from them how to be better. Being appreciated is a must, of course, but I know I must earn it.<br /><br />Congrats to Ilse. Congrats to all the women out there who have chosen powerful paths and have inspired all of us who follow to aspire to more.<br clear="all" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-4844680750942109937?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-89614064238302787022009-11-21T13:47:00.004-05:002009-11-21T14:03:34.288-05:00I'm so tough<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/Swg0kjnL6BI/AAAAAAAABeo/9NqyL5f44BE/s640/face%20the%20tool%20man.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 227px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/Swg0kjnL6BI/AAAAAAAABeo/9NqyL5f44BE/s640/face%20the%20tool%20man.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It's not often that I get to use a saw, a drill, a stud finder and measure, mark, cut, pre-drill, sand, measure, drill.<br /><br />My mom and my aunt Jane visited last Tuesday. We went out for dinner like other families do when they get together. (I rode my bike back home and they drove - we arrived at the same time. I love it when that happens. Everyone always thinks that riding a bike is so inconvenient, but really it's awesome: free transportation and parking, free exercise, pollution-free. And less stress biking around the city than driving around the city, let me tell you!)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/ScGokmpvnsI/AAAAAAAAA1A/w_ymzVYVE9Q/s640/IMG_0021.jpg"><img style="float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 340px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/ScGokmpvnsI/AAAAAAAAA1A/w_ymzVYVE9Q/s640/IMG_0021.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>And then, like OUR family does, when we got back to my house, after checking out the latest changes, they decided to help me with a project. My front hall closet shoe rack.<br /><br />The closet is pretty shallow. Which is great for a narrow house like mine. My boyfriend has a particular hate-on for the limited size of it, but there are many closet-less home owners who covet my solution. But it only works if you're OK with arranging your shoes in such a way that they don't get in the way of closing the door. My boyfriend is not OK with that. And so a solution was required to save the relationship. Turns out wooden pegs are just the thing.<br /><br />Mounted on the wall, angled up, you can hang your shoe heel off the pegs and VOILA -- organized, compact, non-door-wrecking shoe solution! It remained only to mount the inexpensive pine columns on the wall of the closet. Which of course also didn't EXACTLY fit the space. So we measured, cut, re-measured, sanded, found studs (in the wall, not my boyfriend), measured, pre-drilled, fit/held, drilled and drilled some more.<br /><br />Now it's all in place. Neat as a pin. And I feel powerful. Ready for my next big project: hanging curtains!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-8961406423830278702?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-78100144253851607342009-11-15T22:54:00.003-05:002009-11-15T23:21:02.391-05:00another day, another renovation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1265/1382554080_4abd550b76_m.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 159px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1265/1382554080_4abd550b76_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It's been a crazy couple of weeks -- always something going on.<br /><br />But this particular project had been planned since my mom's birthday/family reunion, just before Thanksgiving. My uncle told me that he was a whiz with the bricks and mortar.<br /><br />And the next weekend we had available get down and dirty with my house exterior was this one. So my aunt and uncle came over with my mom who was the main "helper".<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/SQiFsLFK5RI/AAAAAAAAAD4/R9_1Bn6eB9A/162munro-exterior.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 170px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/SQiFsLFK5RI/AAAAAAAAAD4/R9_1Bn6eB9A/162munro-exterior.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I was able to get a bike fixed, pick up supplies at Home Depot, make banana bread, coffee, lunch and dinner -- and take my cousin out to Chinatown for some cheap grocery shopping. All while my uncle did a beautiful job taking out the old hack job (think: glued-together bits and pieces of brick-shards and stone) and replacing it with perfectly mortared and fitted bricks. Gorgeous. Now I just need to do a bit of touch-up painting. (Just? I laugh at my own bravado.)<br /><br />On top of it all, my uncle finished quickly and we were able to get to yet another project that's been on my to-do list ever since my new door was installed this summer. The door threshold. There was a huge gap between the door sill and the tiles. Something had to be done. And in went the cement. Now it's curing and soon there will be a lovely piece of stained oak trim melting into my front hall tiles.<br /><br />It's all coming together.<br />Slowly.<br /><br />Ssssloooooowlyyyy...<br /><br />Thanks to all the wonderful people who've contributed. My uncle did a wonderful job and I got to see and visit with him and my aunt and my cousin and her baby and so on. I realized just how much I absolutely LOVE having them over to my house. I love the chatter and the laughter and the fullness of it all.<br /><br />It's what a home is supposed to be.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-7810014425385160734?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-59905142589094261242009-10-24T23:38:00.003-04:002009-10-24T23:50:28.851-04:00art<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/SuPIPlqAPOI/AAAAAAAABds/fA-twJON3-4/s800/IMG_0343.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 236px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/SuPIPlqAPOI/AAAAAAAABds/fA-twJON3-4/s800/IMG_0343.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It had to happen sometime.<br /><br />I had to put art up sooner or later. My walls have been completely bare and cheerless.<br /><br />And I had a day. A day when I didn't have any particular plans. As I drank my tea and finished reading my recent House and Home, I got inspired to unearth an art project that I'd dreamt up over three years ago at IKEA.<br /><br />Out came the frames and the postcards and the paint. (And a present that I thought I'd lost, but had actually just not yet unpacked. Happy Belated, <a href="http://www.webgoddesscathy.com/friends/sarahp.asp">Sarah</a>!) And the scissors, tape, hammer and nails.<br /><br />And after a few distractions (brunch with aforementioned present-owner, a pre-winter planting spree and backyard clean-up, errands and Mexican dinner with my favourite guys -- goodness, I thought I had no plans??) I managed to get the thing up on the wall (you can <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/WebGoddessCathy/House#5396376299592122322">click here</a> to see what wall it's on).<br /><br />I quite love the number of things I was able to get accomplished today. I'm a little less excited about the art project than I thought I would be. But I'm starting to get excited and motivated to actually decorate. Problem is, I just had so many to-dos on my list today that it feels like I did nothing.<br /><br />Ah, but tomorrow is another day. Time enough for putting plastic on my windows, tea with an old friend, furniture shopping (it never ends) and finishing up the backyard pre-winter project. That's not to say that THAT would be the end of my list, but I suspect that moment is a long way off.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-5990514258909426124?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-63352270444767360802009-10-21T17:41:00.002-04:002009-10-21T17:50:05.170-04:00My sexy new thang<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/WebGoddessCathy/House#5395171344744416546"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 231px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/St9_wNHbhSI/AAAAAAAABco/eOQa-814iOQ/s720/couch.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It's new and it's here. And you can sit on it.<br /><br />It's my couch. (Or sofa. Or chesterfield?)<br /><br />Delivered fresh about an hour ago.<br /><br />So far, I love it. And I haven't even sat in it at my own house yet. But I still love it. The right colour (too dark? I'm bluffing this confidence.). And it had better be the right size (you see?).<br /><br />The old orange couch is now in my back room, ready for a new adventure.<br /><br />The new couch is ready for some contrasting cushions and blanket, a real lamp, a small side table, a chair, my upholstered window seat cushions and some other manner of table across from it. Oh, and shelves in the wall niches. You know, not much. Just, well, everything.<br /><br />It's all a work in progress. I just happened to find the couch first. (And get buyer's remorse on it first.) Come over and sit on my couch and tell me it's the best couch you've ever seen. Lie to me if you have to.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-6335227044476736080?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-3159456952631836242009-10-18T01:26:00.003-04:002009-10-18T01:44:50.038-04:00Blue Rodeo. Basically, we're best friends now.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.webgoddesscathy.com/blog/uploaded_images/photo-752543.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://www.webgoddesscathy.com/blog/uploaded_images/photo-752540.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>So, you know, you're at a 40th anniversary party for the molecular genetics department at UofT. And, you know, Blue Rodeo happens to come on. Jim Cuddy and Greg Keeler. And they're singing and playing and you're thinking, "Wow, is this really happening?"<br /><br />But, ya, this just happened.<br /><br />My brother Matt and I are a little bit stunned right now. And Matt's singing in the shower. After just emailing them.<br /><br />At first, I was a little weirded out -- there was an awkward introduction to the band by the chair of the department -- a man with a wonderful personality and great sense of humour, but a charming lack of understanding of what to say in such a circumstance. And then there was this amazing concert going on and people didn't seem to notice. And when Jim Cuddy invited all to the dance floor, it was all that Matt needed.<br /><br />"Let's go," he said.<br />I knew what it meant. We were up and the first ones on the so-called "dance floor". Matt was so excited I thought he was going to pee his pants. I couldn't stop smiling. He couldn't stop singing. And even got in some air guitar. It was awesome. (And felt really short.)<br /><br />"I feel like they're doing a concert just for me," Matt said. It was amazing, because I kind of felt the same. We danced and sang and danced. It was surreal.<br /><br />And now Matt's in the shower, singing Blue Rodeo on a total high. Probably still grinning ear to ear.<br /><br />Thanks to the universe that just made that happened.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-315945695263183624?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4131493.post-34145030474427862912009-10-15T17:26:00.003-04:002009-10-15T17:36:06.534-04:00The couch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/SteMo8YekmI/AAAAAAAABcE/2y4FdNBZFno/s720/couch-store.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 218px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OopDTdqY0LQ/SteMo8YekmI/AAAAAAAABcE/2y4FdNBZFno/s720/couch-store.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>You may have seen <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/WebGoddessCathy/House#5311009131901294034">The Orange Couch</a> in previous pics of my house online. I like The Orange Couch. It's a good couch. A pull-out. Bright. Comfy. Cheap. It's been like a friend for the past five years.<br /><br />But someone recently told me that I probably need a different couch. And so began the search. I won't say it's been particularly arduous. Certainly not as time consuming as my search for the perfect upholstery fabric for my window seat, which, this weekend (a fine, wonderful, relaxing weekend), led me to break down and use the fabric that I'd long ago picked out, bought, but thought was inappropriate. It probably IS inappropriate, but over six months later, I'm kind of thinking I don't care. I just want to sit on the stupid window seat.<br /><br />Anyway, this past weekend I had the opportunity to go furniture shopping with a couple of friends who'd rented a car. They were also looking for a couch. We'd both been to the usual suspects. Now it was time to try out some others. And that brought us to GH Johnson, where I saw The Grey Couch.<br /><br />It's grey. It's tailored. It's cheap (well, it's an expensive couch, on sale). It's pretty comfy. It's microfibre and thus easily cleaned (although I have a friend who would say that I'll also easily see my butt imprint on the fake-suede - but I think I'm OK with that since I love her couch). I think it's for me. And I think I need to stop thinking about it. Or I'll still be thinking about it six months from now and I've got other things I'd rather think about.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4131493-3414503047442786291?l=www.webgoddesscathy.com%2Fblog%2Findex.html' alt='' /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04012505119546667645noreply@blogger.com0