A few months ago, while we were all playing The Question Game (don't make me link; you know the one I'm talking about), I became ambitious, and created my own survey. Then, when I went to go look at it, it wasn't there - probably because it was only 35 seconds later or something, and it hadn't had time to do that thing it does so that it sticks. Anyway, I promptly forgot about it until today, when I was browsing around my profile and, lo and behold, there it is! My survey! Whee! So, be a sweetheart, and make me feel all joyful inside by taking it, will you? Darlings? Please? Thank you.
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JournalCon... JournalCon...
The thought of going and meeting a Diaryland rock star is reason enough, isn't it? The whole weekend is rumoured to be more fun since the invention of fun, which is entirely too tempting for words. AND I looked into flights again, with a much more positive result. The first few travel agents I spoke to could only get me from Toronto to Austin in 14 hours, two layovers, and over $800.00. My investigation today reaped far more promising results, getting me there in five hours, for half the cost, and only one layover. Reasonable, I think. Very reasonable.
More to come... the jury is still out, but it looks entirely positive.
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Did I ever tell you about the Chapters debacle that happened a few weeks ago? Oh God, insanely humiliating. Totally awful.
Right, so my hearing loss includes things like the tinkling of change and the click of keyboards and your average low-speaker. And it includes the ring of the cell phone. Every so often, I'll hear a mobile ring and rejoice about it, only to find out that it's set to full volume and has the power to deafen the average full-hearing individual. The usual scenario is that I'll be sitting with a few phone-owning friends, and all of a sudden they'll dive into their purses and jackets and such. My face will register confusion until they all pull out a phone, and one of them says hello. Ahh. It rang. Gotcha.
I, obviously, do not own a cell phone. However, that day, for reasons too long and varied, I needed a way to get a hold of my sister at a certain time. I borrowed my mother's cell and at four o'clock, while on my way to Chapters, I called my Teacher's cell. She didn't answer, so I left a message, reminding her not to return the call because I wouldn't hear the ring, and letting her know that I'd call back at a certain time. Now, Teacher knows full well that I can't hear a cell phone ring. I felt kind of foolish reminding her, but better safe than sorry, right?
So there I am, browsing through the goodness that is the multitude of bookshelves at Chapters, basking in the glow of over-priced books and comfortable seating areas, enjoying the caffienated fragrance floating from the Starbucks conveniently and brilliantly located inside the giant book emporium. Every so often, I somehow get the impression that people are glancing up at me, staring at me, smirking even! I notice one shifty character eye my purse and I clasp it to me, wondering if I'm about to get mugged under the bright lights and security cameras. I put it out of my mind, dismissing it as fancy, as paranoia, as plain old silliness. Of course no one is looking at me! Tsk!
The fact of the matter is, I managed to successfully disregard that notion a few more times over the course of my wandering up and down the aisles of books. A good amount of time passes, and I realise I've got to ring my sister again, as the time I've promised to call has arrived. I take the phone out, and see Missed Calls: 3 flashing on the screen. Missed calls? Missed CALLS?! I check the numbers, and sure enough, they had all come from my sister's phone. All by herself, my sister Teacher, educator of deaf students! had managed to make me look like a complete ass while I walked around the store, blithely ignoring the shrill of the phone that was coming from my purse.
Good God, poppets. Any vague hope that your Mare was looking supremely and miraculously lovely that day, thus eliciting body splash commercial-type gazes and offerings of flowers were completely dashed. Instead, I just looked like a fool with my head in the clouds.
Ah well. At least the tale is good for a guilt trip or two. I may have bad ears and my head in the clouds, but my mamma didn't raise no fool, poppets.
Love you, darlings. Remember - survey!
Kisses!
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