Ugh. I fully intended to write this post last night after having run home from work so that I could brag to you all about such! the great! start! I have on my latest! and awesomest! resolution… 1000KM OF RUNNING IN 2010!!

[insert crowd applauding and cheering enthusiastically HERE!!]

It is a resolution I put toward my “ten for ‘10″ when I first read about the idea on Twitter, and one I only contemplated for the two seconds it took to virtually shout to @georgewenzel to ohohoh!! pick me!! pick me!! I want to do it toooooooo…

Instead, daycare called. The Beaver had to come home, and quickly. Pink eye. And as her eyes shed goops of pus, I shed a tear for my first good opportunity to put a 7 km dent in my million metre goal…

(TMI, I know.)

But now that I think of it, the poor start is likely a good thing, since yesterday afternoon, after having calculated exactly how much running this goal entails (an average of 83.3 km per month, 19.2 km a week, or a short 2.7 km jaunt per day), I wondered if 1,000 km in 2010 was actually a valid target. I mean, I’ve already signed up for the Hypothermic Half in January and the 3rd Annual Army Half in September, so surely my training for those should bring me rather quickly to #1000kmin2010 (the hashtag I intend to use on Twitter to track my progress throughout the year), right? Does the objective really qualify if other ambitions get me there anyway?

And then the phone call from daycare rang in answer: Take nothing for granted in 2010…

My new resolution #1.

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.

]]> http://ottawadiva.ca/2009/12/31/dusty-owl-playdate/feed/ 0 http://ottawadiva.ca/2009/11/03/redworks-art/ http://ottawadiva.ca/2009/11/03/redworks-art/#comments Wed, 04 Nov 2009 02:09:14 +0000 Ottawa Diva http://ottawadiva.ca/?p=393

I’ve been back at work for a month. The transition has been scarily easy; my days quickly became bitterly concerned about documents and events that mere weeks ago merited no more than a polite nod whenever someone in my company would mention them, mostly because I’d lobotomized myself against the lexicon of bureaucratese. Like most of the Canadian public, I scarcely cared who the Prime Minister was, so long as the child benefit came each month so that my supplies of beer and popcorn could be replenished.

It was glorious.

And different now. Now, the toothpaste tube of real life is squeezed by 9-to-5 obligations, leaving a sticky blue mess in the bathroom sink that no one’s at home to clean up, and if I didn’t have time to floss before bed before, I sure as hell don’t now.

Behold! Here she is, my idol: Sheryl Siddiqui of Redworks Art in Ottawa. A month or so ago I went to pick up a few free community newspapers for a project I was doing and saw her face splashed across the cover. She was having an open house for the community, and so we packed up the kiddies and hit the road. I’d seen Sheryl at a mutual friend’s house a few times before but had no idea she was an artist, let alone a good one. A really, REALLY good one. All that, AND a mother of two young boys. I was envious. My creative talents compared to hers? Inadequate. Where, I wondered, did she find the time?

It was funny then, how when Sheryl asked me how I’d heard about the open house, and I told her about the paper-mâché Eiffel Tower hat I was planning to make The Beaver for her Halloween costume, she said, without a trace of irony: “I don’t know how you find the time for such things. That’s amazing.”

I smiled, made way for the lady coming next through the door, and left. We spent the rest of the afternoon at the park playing with the kids in the sand. The Eiffel Tower hat didn’t get done until weeks later, and after all that, The Beaver wouldn’t wear it anyway.

Anyhoo. This recent news article in the Ottawa Citizen prompted yet another search this weekend, because AS IF I’M NOT PARANOID ENOUGH. Thankfully though, most of the stuff I found is rather benign and uninteresting. So for a lark I thought I’d see instead what came back when I type in “Ottawa Diva”. You know. BASIC RESEARCH I SHOULD HAVE DONE WHEN I STARTED THIS BLOG. And lo and behold! What did I find? Photos from the 2005 Ottawa Drag Diva contest.

The resemblance? It’s uncanny.

First the bad news: Ottawa Diva went back to the office this week after nearly two years of being blissfully ignorant of cubicle culture. Example? When she needed help with the printer, she told the new admin not to “disrespect” her technological capabilities. Clearly, Diva needs to re-learn the language of 9-to-5. Asking her boss if he remembered to wash his hands after going to the bathroom is creating a rather awkward workplace tension, and not in a good, “quit looking at my boobs, this is sexual harassment” kind of way.

Diva won’t lie; it was a rough week, made worse by the swine flu The Beaver picked up last Friday when she went to test out her new daycare. (This is the good news: You buy the swine flu, you finally get hair long enough for pig-tails for free. See figure 1 below. Squee!!)

Although Diva would tell you that knowing she was missing all the projectile vomiting that was happening at home made being on the 85 at 7:30 on Monday morning bearable, then came the poop. And the coughing. And snot. And the next thing Diva knows, it’s four days in to once again being a Working Mom and already her turn to stay at home and sop up the soggy mess also known as her daughter, insaneamountofpaperworkpilinguponherdeskohmygod howisshegoingtogetallthatsh!tdoneontime BE DAMNED!!

You know who Diva thinks should win the Nobel Prize? WORKING PARENTS. At the very least, Diva encourages you to think about the sanity of the person who baked the cookie you’re about to bite into after the next United Way campaign bake sale. It’s probably perilously close to “I put arsenic in that brownie you just shoved in your mouth, you dual income, childless asshole.” At the very least, it could be “I refer myself in the third-person. I mean she. SHE refers to herself in the third-person. Man this Catcher in the Rye stuff is tough.”

The point? If you’re looking for some balanced mommy blogging, you ain’t gunna get it from Diva. She rather suggests you check out Postcards from the Mothership by Dani, Ottawa mommy blogger extraordinaire. Diva? I think she’s baking. Or drinking. Whatev.

figure 1:

Check it: The ELgiN StreEt iRReguLars blog. Best served with a side of “WTF??”

I manage my life according to my horoscope. Specifically, this one. I am loathe to admit that what Susan Miller says for Sagittarius sometimes affects my decision-making process beyond simply who I send an email to, and when (but I’ll admit it anyway, reader, won’t I, because we’re in a bit of a dry patch, aren’t we?) No doubt dear old dad would send me to my room if he knew that I’ve even SIGNED REAL ESTATE CONTRACTS BASED ON THE DATES MY HOROSCOPE SAID TO SIGN THEM. Yes, that needed to be cap-locked, lest I fail to realize JUST HOW #%$*ING RIDICULOUS I AM.

But since life is so good that I have the leisure time to keep a half-assed blog, I must be doing something right, non? Thus, during this morning’s coffee I could scarcely pay attention to one of Husband’s usual rants (was it the CBC this time? Jack Layton? Rod and Todd from across the way? I forget), so entranced was I in October’s newly-released horoscope. Particularly this passage:

You may be speaking in front of others after Jupiter goes direct, publishing articles or books, or appearing on TV. You seem to have built a name for yourself, and the media will want to hear what you have to say.

I won’t lie: I thought of Ottawa Diva right away. But mostly because the other name I’ve made for myself isn’t PG rated, and I doubt anyone would want me speaking in front of them when those F-bombs went off.

But that’s beside the point, which is that JUPITER IS GOING DIRECT, PEOPLE. So if you’re a Sagittarius, CHECK YOUR EMAIL. In it, you might find a whole schwack of invitations to write about awesome Ottawa events, JUST BECAUSE THE NAME OF THE CITY IS IN THE TITLE OF YOUR BLOG. Because, seriously – that’s my only qualification.*

So here’s the first shout-out, since they asked for it, but I woulda given it to them anyway: Fashion Cures, a downtown extravaganza from November 4 – 7, which I can’t wait to write about, and not just because I only recently learned the definition of ’sartorial’, and now will have an excuse to use it in a blog post. But also because the events look positively squee-worthy, and the designers? Well, Relishing.ca and I were salivating for them over email this afternoon, as a matter of fact.

The best part? Proceeds will be donated to Ovarian Cancer Canada. Divas playing dress-up to help another diva out…GOD I LOVE THIS CITY.

*Shhhh! Don’t tell anyone!

In a previous life, Diva’s fashion taste was sometimes classified “grunge” when, really, she simply couldn’t be bothered to spend any more on apparel than the cost of old man trousers at the local second-hand store raising money for charity. After all, there were more important benefactors of her hard-earned minimum wage. The two Johns Player and Molson spring to mind.

(Diva is such a consummate fashionista that even her lungs and liver knew the value of classic black dress.)

Fast forward a dozen years, a steady pay cheque and 190 kms to Montreal: Diva’s been schooled, yo, and now prefers her accoutrement au courant. Or at least not perfumed with a whiff of Grandad’s long-ago smoked cigar and Granny’s sour mothball soup.

Thus, Diva had hoped for more Jennifer Glasgow at last weekend’s Capital Clothing Show at the Carleton Fieldhouse, and was surprised by the proportion of vintage booths as a share of the sparse number of stalls to begin with. Happily so, as it turns out, since Diva’s style is trending more toward “recession chic” this fall (read: she. is. a. broke. mess.) and Ottawa’s vintage scene is a comparative steal. (Diva found a never-used nut-coloured Nine West bag for $12 bucks, people. 12 BUCKS!!) Nevertheless, here’s hoping that the 2010 Spring edition (May 7 – 9, already populating next year’s mommy calendar) features more Oriole and Feathermoss.

Drool.

***

Upcoming events:

Landsdowne Park Fall Flea Market Sept. 26 – 27, 2009

The Ottawa Antiques Sale Oct. 23 – 25, 2009

Capital Clothing Show May 7 – 9, 2010

Three years ago, after the birth of Thing One, I started running. The first few bouts came courtesy of Jules, Ottawa trainer extraordinaire at the Strollercize sessions hosted by the Bank Street Boomerang Kids. My good friend H and I would haul our post-partum asses over to the canal two or three mornings a week to commiserate with 25 other new moms who also regretted every DQ Skor Blizzard we made our partners leave the house for in the middle of the night. Jules made us pay for those Drumsticks – big time – and waddling across Sunnyside with our shiny new Zoopers, Chariots and Bugaboos, we looked like a paddling of ducks.

Best of all, Boomerang makes this contribution to the community completely free of charge – and judgment. There are moms of all shapes and sizes, and never once did I feel like my thick thighs didn’t belong.

Starting to run wasn’t easy, but the physical aspect I found less challenging than the mental one – getting past that pesky brain blockage that so often mocks attempt at self-improvement. The first week, I ran for one minute, then walked for two. The week after, I ran two, then walked one. H and I kept doing this until yesterday, when we both PBed at the Army Run half-marathon. Though I only began to formally follow a running schedule a few months ago in preparation for the race, training for it began way back then. If only that huffing and puffing girl could see herself now.

photo credit: some kid’s myspace account

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Reader.

Reader, get the *%#$ out of here. I’m busy with bleach in a not-so-well-ventilated room making my own acid wash. If I don’t post by tomorrow, call the police. And then check out The Fashion Press.org – a fashion blog by a couple of Ottawa cool cats. They’re who I’d want to be if I never grew up. Le sigh.

How’s this for my new business card?

Ottawa Diva: On the cutting edge of cool. Since July 11, 2009.

Because that was the date the girls and I went to see the Slaughter Daughters give it to the Thames Fatales. No, this is not porn; it’s roller derby. (Though some of those outfits look like they could have come from the closet of one Miss Jenna Jameson. Not that I know who she is. Or what her boobies look like. REWIND! REWIND!)

Husband told me it was fake. (Roller derby; not Jenna Jameson.) I came home that night and told him that if all that thrashing and smashing was fake, I’d quit using alliteration to get my point across. Sorry sucker’s never been so sick of me hissing the letter ’s’.

Anyway. After hearing a CBC radio story on the revival of this popular sport from the 70s over the weekend, and reading Lainey’s coverage of Drew Barrymore’s new movie Whip It! at the Toronto International Film Festival, I realized I never posted the pictures we took at the match in July. There isn’t a home game currently scheduled on their website, but when there is, I plan to go. The t-shirts are awesome, and the short short silver shorts over fishnets even better.

GOD THESE GIRLS ARE HOT.