Saturday, June 23, 2007 

She speaks!

Hm, yeah. I suppose I am long overdue for a post on my beloved blog. *sheepish*

My excuse is pure laziness. Quite simple. As some of you may know, another online community has all but consumed my life when I am not out and about...which makes my poor little blog a distant item on my list of priorities. There are days when I feel I'm ready to touch base and blog but then I sign on to that other site and well...

Anyway, I'm here right now. Heaven knows I need some discipline in my life. :P

I'll try to get you up to speed. I spent an emotionally charged two weeks "back home" in the Philippines in April and turned my back on my darling Calgary Flames as they started their playoff run. Sad to say, they lost, and I came home to a dejected Big Boi posse and no more hockey games for the season.

However, I would not have traded those two weeks for anything. It is so easy to "forget" the family you have so far away...the lack of contact goes without question. And the cost...having been bit by the travel bug I felt I could not justify the cost of a ticket to the Philippines when that same amount of money could get me to another undiscovered destination. But I did the right thing. As I collected all my luggage and psyched myself up for the impending reunion just outside those doors various memories of past visits started playing through my head like a montage. It was like I was not even really there yet, it was all just a tease, a dream. A dream that was prolonged by the fact that Ninoy Aquino International Airport is such a gong show full of reunited relatives that I could not find my family. It had been 15 years. Would they even recognize me now?

As soon as I found my uncle and my cousins I could not contain myself anymore. Yes, I'm a crybaby. Apparently it runs in our family, so I am not ashamed of it at all.

Wow, our family has grown so much since I visited last. So many second cousins, so many new faces to remember. Halfway through my trip, although the tearful reunions were petering out, I started a whole other series of waterworks as I went to bed every night. The trip felt so short, I was just starting to get to know everyone once again, how could I possibly say "goodbye" so soon?

I am very grateful that I went, and I promise myself and all my loved ones that I will return more often now. Especially, as morbid as this sounds, while all my loved ones are still around. There is no other holiday that can compare to this, nothing more rejuvenating, nothing more surreal than the love and joy that comes with spending time "back home."

Leah busted a move 6/23/2007 02:47:00 PM
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Thursday, April 12, 2007 

GO FLAMES GO!

See you all in Round 2. I leave our boys in your capable hands. I've got a plane to catch. :)

Leah busted a move 4/12/2007 12:49:00 AM
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Tuesday, March 13, 2007 

Whodathunkit?

The Big Flames Fanatics (AKA my siblings and our friends) got together to cheer our boys on against Tampa Bay. In fine form, we had our horns, our thunder sticks, and thanks to Daisy's dad we had COWBELLS!

You can never have enough cowbell.

It was also a marvelous day because it was our first day of temperatures in the high teens this year. (Weather which was quashed today by a ridiculous amount of snow....which then melted almost completely...but hey, that's Calgary for you!) In my excitement I spent the evening in capris and sans jacket. Thank goodness I never had to regret my clothing choices!

So there we were, picture it, 14 of our bestest buds and blood cheering on our beloved hometown boys. There were some scary moments...stupid referees were driving us insane! But in the end we LOST! LOST! The Flames have never lost whenever we have attended a game. Never! It never even dawned me that they could possibly lose.

And they lost. And we all sat there, numb, for a good little while as the 'dome emptied out.

But the Flames squared their shoulders and looked onward to the next game. So must we do the same. As we filed out many "good times" pics were taken amongst the group. Lots of crazy ones, but Weird Kid's like that.

However, the craziest one of the group...you will never believe this...ended up being our very own baby sis! Weird Kid and most of his friends were far far ahead of most of us. My friends for the most part were trailing behind us. Big Boi J and I were discussing the finer details of changing his license plate to read "sxytyme" when my darling little sister bolted ahead, turned and faced a non-Flames couple, stuck her horn between her legs, and razzed them!

Big Boi J and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. Clearly, baby sis has been hanging with bad influences! Too bad the bad influences are us! :)

Leah busted a move 3/13/2007 10:26:00 PM
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Sunday, March 11, 2007 

Boogie oogie oogie till I just can't boogie no more

My dance instructors have started up a new salsa night in the city. We were lucky enough to come out and support their grand opening. As an added bonus, the venue was a recently renovated establishment I have wanted to check out for a couple of months.

All I can say is that I hope they can keep this up. This evening was better than anything I have seen in Calgary thus far. No scuzzy guys, no sticky floors, everyone dressed like the sexy people they are. Better yet, everyone was there to dance, much like how SoHo started out, but since then SoHo has fallen down a couple of notches.

The dancing was AMAZING! It was inspiring and incredible to watch. A lot of our fellow classmates were there, as were many of the students in levels ahead of us. If I could progress to their levels I'd be ecstatic. I would love to go every week, particularly since our classes will be ending again for the semester soon, and it will probably be very easy to do once the summer hits, but I'll go as much as I can until then. I am so hooked. I have never really been one to try hard to fit in with a particular crowd, but if I could get to know more of the regular dancers at my school it would be amazing to get to try dancing with them every once in a while.

Leah busted a move 3/11/2007 10:27:00 PM
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Monday, March 05, 2007 

Out of control

Last week was my annual checkup at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. Or rather, I guess I should specify that it was my fifth annual checkup. My five year anniversary, my supposed start date to buckle down, live my life, and move on as if I am just any other healthy girl on this planet.

I didn't get to see my normal oncologist, which I thought was weird. Once a year and he can't even see me? Instead I got a guy in residence and the doctor he's been shadowing (is that right? I don't know how it really goes). I realize that every budding doctor has to start somewhere, but why with me? He doesn't know my history, other than what's written on my charts. Making the best of it he told me what my results were telling him, and I told him what had been bothering me as of late. Chest x-ray came out clear, MRI was a-ok. But THEN they decided to see me again next year. I don't know about them, but I thought this was my final checkup. After thinking about it, I didn't really fight it. One morning a year to make sure I'm cancer-free is well worth the time. I'd see them once a year for the rest of my life if it meant keeping me healthy. Mind you, seeing them once a year also means I never get to fully ignore the big C word...but let's face it, I don't want to bury my head in the sand and get sick once again.

Unfortunately, and I remember this clearly 'cuz of the events happening at the time, on the day of the Halloween Club Crawl last year (October 28) my right eye would not open as wide as my left eye. It looked like I was in permanent wink-mode. I chalked it up to my mascara or the like irritating my eye, although it was taking forever to clear out...or maybe it was the start of an infection? Unfortunately, I did not have any time to get it checked out before my trip to the Dominican. Hope of all hopes: it would clear up and deal itself out of my system. Well, halfway through my week it was pretty clear things weren't getting much better. My eye would always open wider as the day progressed but first thing in the morning it was still in perma-wink. I texted my brother to ask my mom to set up an appointment with my GP for when I got back home...it wasn't such a dire emergency that I wanted to waste my time in paradise in a foreign doctor's clinic. (But I did let my imagination run a little wild. Did I suffer from a tiny stroke and that's why that eye was acting up? Were my muscles and nerves breaking down due to my radiation therapy from the past? What was going on??)

My mom one-upped me and instead of my GP she set up an appointment with my opthalmologist. I have not seen him in years since he decided that they would not do "normal eye exams" any longer. He took a look at it and decided that it was an infection that was already on its way out (of course my eye was opening somewhat better than most days that day).

Really, I thought he was right, my eye didn't seem to be so closed in the mornings any longer and it bounced back a lot quicker during the day. It still wasn't 100%, but it would get there.

Fast forward to my appointment at the Tom Baker. My eye still wasn't perfect so I thought I'd bounce my little theory about my muscles/nerves getting all tired on my right side and that's why it would not open as wide as my left eye. Mr Resident did a few rudimentary tests; my eye, and the muscles controlling its movement, were fine in his opinion. However, he and his doctor buddy figured that my eyelid was definitely puffier than my "healthy" one and that I should go see my opthalmologist again to sort out the puffy eyelid (infection?) and Mr Resident saw the beginnings of a cataract going on. Maybe the cataract was a side effect from the radiation.

Cataract? Was that not an issue for old people? No, I shouldn't be so age-ist.

However, my mom felt the same way. "But you're so young still!"

Fine, so I was developing a cataract. I've seen my grandma and others in our family circle deal with them, I knew the procedure. At least this issue was easily remedied and after that I'd be good as new.

Fast forward a few days more to today. I went back to my opthalmologist to have him look it over. It's NOT a cataract. (Or so he says. Mom is skeptical and wants me to get a second opinion.) My corneal scarring from my childhood was getting denser, and that was why my vision was getting worse. But to be honest, I have become so dependent on my left eye, I did not even realize my right eye's vision had been getting so bad!

Oh, and my eye not opening as much? I guess the brain works to "protect" the eye, and it is keeping my right eye more closed so that less light enters in since its vision is more light-sensitive right now.

"See me in six months." No breakdown as to how we were going to deal with this problem. Nothing.

To be honest, I would have been a lot happier with a cataract. At least I know how that can be fixed. I was really hoping to get a car real soon. If my eyesight is getting worse, how can I confidently get around in my cute car?

On a less trivial note, I'm again feeling sort of helpless. I'm a girl of science. Have cancer? Nuke it with some radiation = all better. Have a cataract? Fix it with a little bit of surgery...again, all better. But when you don't give me a clear solution to my issues I feel pretty lost. Not only that, but you would think that the one person I should be able to rely on in this world is myself. How can I do that if my own body is working against me?

I am so thankful that I still have such a close and loving family. Not to mention my friends, though I try to burden them even less than my family. It's not very often that I'll admit that I am frustrated.

Leah busted a move 3/05/2007 09:05:00 PM
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Sunday, February 25, 2007 

Mas caliente que tu

"Let's go!"

And with that we left our friends with the ever-entertaining French pirate and headed back to our rooms to freshen up. What a group! Some sassy cougars (C and S), a darling small-town wide-eyed girl (J), a good girl (yours truly...or that's how I pictured myself), and a friendly glamazon (L).

We were staying at the Occidental Grand Flamenco in Puerto Plata, right in the Playa Dorada complex. Just down the street was Mangu at the old Jack Tar village. The night was young and Mangu was just opening (11pm) and it would not be Puerto Plata if we did not check this place out. The only bar that let locals mix with the tourists within the complex. Enough of the French pirates and the other Europeans. Bring on the Dominicans!

Personally, I was uber excited. I was already on a music high ever since we landed, merengue and bachata all around me! Seeing the locals living in the music was an incredible experience. Now I would get to see them show how merengue and bachata are truly danced.

The cougars came out in crazy heels and as a result we had to take a 2 minute taxi ride down to the club. Thanks to our resort bracelets we got in without any cover, but it made me wonder how much they normally charge the locals. But before we stepped in:

"Be easy on these guys, girls. They fall for outsiders easily. They'll promise you the world just to keep you" a friend warned. Inside I groaned and snickered all at the same time. I can't stand it when people get all patronizing and lecture me on things I already know, but I am usually good at biting my lip. And "fall for outsiders?" As if she did not actually mean that they love sleeping with outsiders. Was she speaking from experience? It sure sounded like it. But, you know, open mind open mind open mind. Let's run with the generalization that Latinos are hugely family-oriented and with that they would never disrespect women. Benefit of the doubt.

So just past the security bouncers was a large open area with a DJ behind his turntables at the other end. It was dead, to boot. This was what we came for? Our own resort disco was more jumping than this!

But I was so wrong. The cougars (could you tell they had been here before?) gathered us up and led us through the doors on the side. Now this was a club. Great lights, multiple bars, circular dance floor, not a whole lot of booths but what are you going to do at a club but dance, right? Oh what? Is that a cage over in the corner? We had to step aside as a midget man in a beret and kilt walked past carrying a box of cerveza over his shoulder. I know I should say "vertically-challenged" but I'm just too lazy to type all that out.

As we lined up to order drinks (there was just something that made me bitter about paying for drinks after getting spoiled at an all-inclusive only a few days into the week)a mega-tall woman walked by. The glamazon and I exchanged looks.

"They've got women taller than me here!" and I nodded in agreement. But halfway through my nod we realized the amazon lady was a dude! A dragazon, if you will!

Here I was, in this tiny Caribbean country, and I was seeing things that I have never seen in Calgary: city of a million-plus.

And from then on all week we would say "it ain't a party without a drag queen and a midget."

Later, the midget dressed down to jeans and no shirt and the dragazon entertained, dancing in the cage. Craziness.

Oh, the dancing! I just watched in awe. This was like SoHo multiplied by 5,000 times the allure. All of a sudden S was grabbing my hand and leading me over to one of the local guys. It was like her mission to get everyone out on the dance floor. I didn't resist. I wanted to dance. Merengue was easier than salsa and I felt pretty confident. So away we went and all was good.

Or so I thought. Being trained in something and being born with it are two totally different things, obviously, and I found myself flustered...thinking much too hard about following his lead. Alright, fine, I was having a bit of difficulty getting into the groove of things but then...

"I'm sorry. You can't merengue."

Did I hear him right? So much for having patience! I couldn't believe it. I have danced with my fair share of rhythmically-challenged people and worse but I have NEVER told them they suck to their face. Rarity of rarities, I took the higher road and thanked him for the dance, walking off the dance floor with a pinched ego. Pinched, not bruised.

Luckily for me, I was not a wallflower for very long. A tall, dark guy with the body of 50 Cent (but without the "duh!" face) came over to dance with me. Transition in the evening, the merengue music moved onto RnB and hiphop. Alright, I have not been "trained" in dancing to RnB and hiphop but I highly doubt anyone would ever tell me that I can't dance it. "Only You" by 112 came on and, though it's still somewhat uptempo, he held me close and serenaded me. But, um, serenading and grinding seem kind of incongruent.

Where do I go? What must I do 'cuz I can't live without your love? Thinking of you makes me feel like you are the only one for me

His name was Ariel (Like the little mermaid, I thought) and he worked in Internet Services at the Marien Coral. Coincidentally, I had just stopped by the Marien Coral that day. To prove this (did I look skeptical?) he showed me his staff ID. I don't know what it is with guys always showing me some form of ID. It reminds me of that time in Toronto when John opened his wallet and showed me his AHC card to back the fact that he used to live in Alberta.

Then another song came on, and frankly I can't remember what the other songs were after Only You. He started to bump with me and normally I think that dance is kind of immature. Whenever I've been at the clubs here in Calgary and some drunken fool starts bumping me I get all disgusted. Besides, who knows why they think it's making them look sexy? It certainly doesn't do anything for me. But this time...there was a *cough* "rock hard penis" as J was prone to repeating numerous times throughout the evening. Yes, my 50 Cent was not the only guy dancing with a "rock hard penis," apparently.

But yes, a "rock hard penis" (I will keep typing that out to sort of reenact how J sounded the whole evening.) makes the stupid bump dance move pretty, er, interesting. Or maybe Ariel and I were just the right height for things 'cuz it had me feeling pretty good. *blush*

Ok, off the dancefloor I went. I needed a breather. Along came J with her "rock hard penis" experience. FYI: J is married to a farmer much akin to a Hutterite colony. Married should mean that she knows all about "rock hard penis(es)" but I guess she's not used to other men's "rock hard penis(es)" which would make sense.

I lost Ariel somehow, alas. Along came another guy, not very built and not as tall. His name was Antonio and he worked for the Pizza Hut at the Playa Dorada Complex. Again, he showed me his staff ID. It must be a common thing to do over there. He, too, had a "rock hard penis" though it wasn't as impressive(?) No, I can't think of the right word right now. Anyway, here I was, thinking that I was being a pretty good girl. It wasn't my fault these guys were in a perpetually aroused state ("rock hard penis," for good measure). J just proved it wasn't just me, not that I am that vain to think such a thing, so me dancing with these guys is just some good innocent holiday fun.

Then Antonio kissed me, and he's not even that good of a kisser! In fact, he's kind of a sloppy kisser. But the little devil on my shoulder got together with the little angel on my other shoulder and both said "screw it, you're on a trip!" So, I kissed back. Just like the bump move here in Calgary, it wasn't doing much for me. Truth be told dancing with Ariel did more for me than kissing with Antonio. If I had been a good girl I wouldn't have just went along with it, but I did.

We danced/kissed for a little longer when he took my hand and led me across the dance floor. In the back of my mind I had an idea of what he was up to but I let him have the benefit of the doubt. We were also headed towards the bar where the original bartender (the lady who served us our drinks) had been replaced by a hot HOT guy in a wifebeater that my friends had been raving about. It was a good opportunity to check out what the fuss was all about. I had to agree. That bartender guy looked like Hotness-a-la-mode. Unfortunately, we walked past the bar...which meant he wasn't looking to buy me a drink and my initial instincts were right. *sigh* I stopped in my tracks, let go of his hand, and started walking back to where we had been.

What's wrong?
I'm staying with my friends.
How come?
I'm not leaving the club.
Alright

And with that he took my hand again and led me through the crowd around the dance floor (the long way) back to my friends. Once we got back L saw Antonio latched onto me and asked "ready to go?" Very much so!

I told him I was leaving, but either he didn't hear me or he pretended that he didn't as his arms wrapped me up from behind and he started kissing my neck.

You want to go and dance again?
No, I told you my friends are ready to go.

But just as I said that J got pulled onto the dance floor again by another "rock hard penis." Great woman, but she seemed to be having the best time she's ever had in ages so she wasn't fighting to leave the club at any point soon. She would never cheat on her husband, though, so we weren't all too concerned. But what about me?!

Your friend is dancing now. You can dance a little more.
No,no, we're going really soon.
Leah, I like you. Ok? (There it was!!! What my friend had warned me all about! Was this guy for real? No no no no no...it must still be all about getting me into bed.)
Ok
Will you come see me tomorrow? I will be at work. (Pizza Hut.)
I don't know. We've got some plans for tomorrow already.
Please come and see me. (*sigh* It doesn't matter where I am in the world. The pansies still manage to find me.)
I'm not promising anything. Maybe, (not really) but don't wait for me.

L managed to wrangle J from her dance partner and S was ready to go (no luck for her) while C had managed to find 2 young Germans from our resort to accompany us back.

We all got ready to pile into a taxi-van when S insisted that this time we would walk. Was she nuts? She gave our taxi away to another group and started walking. C dragged at the end of our line and kicked off her heels for better stability in the darkness and her alcohol-influenced state. We must have been a sight. The 10-minute walk took, I'm sure, a good 20 minutes or more. All the while, S kept gushing about me and Antonio, though I sensed a bit of catty jealousy on her part. (Later that week, she actually asked us "what does it take for a girl to get laid around here?" So if there was any doubt as to why she was always looking for an opportunity to hit the bars or meet the locals, the disillusionment was swiftly lifted.)

"Oooooh, did that guy ever like you! He was on you like white on rice. *chuckling to herself about her little analogy* White on rice, don't you get it?"

"White on rice" soon became the new "rock hard penis." The next morning at breakfast S was still telling the rest of our group about how Antonio was on me like "white on rice."

It looks like Antonio bet on the wrong girl. If he had wanted to have some fun that night he should have chosen S. Not to speak ill of S's virtue, but at least we knew what she was after.

Other than that, Mangu was fantastic. I would highly recommend it to anyone going to the Dominican Republic in the next little while.

Leah busted a move 2/25/2007 02:32:00 PM
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Wednesday, February 21, 2007 

You can't have it your way here!

So somehow I have lucked out and been to Falafel King twice AND I had my favorite calamari caesar at the gas station in the past couple of weeks. I do love me some Mediterranean cuisine.

We lucked out on our first trip to Falafel King as they were about to close in 15 minutes. I was not all that hungry, but I had not had a falafel in months and everyone knows I am horrible at denying myself something I want. So there you had it.

The prices at the gas station have gone up a dollar across the board. Who cares? I'll gladly pay it for the yummy yummy food. (I would tell you the name of the place, but it is a hidden city gem after all. If you haven't heard about it by now through newspaper articles and such through the years then it sucks to be you! Haha. Besides, we can't have you all rushing over and ruining a great thing. I hate it when that happens.) So good! And yes, my calamari was not in little heart shapes but I couldn't have asked for a more satisfying Valentine's Day meal.

Our second trip to Falafel King and I was better behaved. All I wanted was something little to nibble on. So I went for an order of baba ghanouj (oh baba, how I adore thee!) and decided to finally ask what a kibbie ball was. They didn't bother answering me 'cuz apparently they were already sold out of kibbie balls for the evening. Well alright then. I decided to ask for some baklava to end off my baba snack. No baklava, either! Guy says "I'm sorry my dear. Today has been crazy!" No kidding! You see what I mean about too many people ruining a great thing? I can't even get my own goodies to eat. So I asked for a mango juice instead. Mmmmm. I had never had one before but it was just as good as my mango bubble tea at Dessert House. Minus the pearls, of course.

While I'm on the subject of Mediterranean goodness: I am quite happy that the city has decided to exclude the shisha bars from the no-smoking bylaw. I have not gone to Cafe Mediterranean or any of the other local shisha bars in years, but I never considered shisha smoke to be as intrusive as cigarette smoke. I was a tad melancholy when I realized I may never get to try other shisha flavours again due to the bylaw, so the exemption was wonderful news. I think the city would miss out on a great cultural experience (should they opt to try it) if shisha smoke had been banned.

Leah busted a move 2/21/2007 09:12:00 PM
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