Those who know me would almost certainly agree that the “Ottawa Diva” nom de plume is perhaps less apt a handle than oh, say “Ottawa Obsessive-compulsive-who-makes-lists-listing-the-lists-she-needs-to-make” might be. A Planny Plannerson, or killjoy, if you will.
Case in point: Not once in the six years since I moved to Ontario have I ever gone out on New Year’s Eve. It is, instead, the night I kick back with a bottle of Shiraz and update my five-year strategic plan. A PERSONAL strategic plan. With PERFORMANCE MEASURES. And clarity between outputs and outcomes, because nothing drives me more batty than when people use these interchangeably.
(Note to self: Admit this less and maybe you’ll be invited to more New Year’s Eve parties.)
Thankfully, 2010 has long ago been designated my year to chill, mostly because my visa told me so. But also because there are two little weiners who’ve recently taught the meaning of “bunker down”. And FUBAR, heavy on the ‘F’.
So. When recently plotting 2010’s extracurricular activities, my two top criteria were “cheap” and “after the witching hour”, aka bedtime. What I came up with is the Dusty Owl Playdate, a weekly meet up for Ottawa writers looking to hang with others of the ink ilk. Free (though a small donation is suggested), it’s held on Tuesday nights at 8:00 pm at Mother Tongue Books on Bank Street. The output? An hour to write, guaranteed every week. The outcome? Probably immeasurable.