Ophélie Lechat

Yes, I was one of those people constantly refreshing Twitter at work so I could find out the name and specs of the Apple tablet.

(On that note: I had a good laugh over the reactions to the name — I think #iTampon was at the top of Twitter trends for a good while today –, but my personal opinion is more along the lines of, really, that’s funny?  Even Feministing got all giggly and weird about it.  No one said anything about the ThinkPad, did they?)

Anyhow.  The iPad hasn’t become my new iWant.  That’s still the iPod Touch, but only because I refuse to sign another three year contract with Fido to get an iPhone.  Imagine!  I could check my email anywhere!  Completely abolish the work/life barrier!

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I had an hour to waste between my (wonderful, awesome) internship and tutoring, so I got a hot chocolate and walked around downtown in the snow.  Those were the biggest snow flakes I’ve ever seen, falling slowly but almost vertically.  After awhile, it stopped being pretty and became irritating.  I walked into Picks and had a rather delicious burger with caramelized onions, gouda and aioli on some kind of amazing ciabatta-like bun.

And now I’m home, doing that thing where I put all kinds of expensive cashmere yarns in my Etsy cart and then close the browser before I actually buy all of it.

When I was six years old, my aunt took me to Disney World.  We drove down from Montreal with three other people.  I had to eat many kinds of vegetables and fruit every day, but once that was done, I could indulge at the ice cream bar as much as I pleased.

One night, I made the sundae to rule all sundaes.  This thing was huge: chocolate ice cream, sprinkles, cherries, caramel sauce.  Six year-old me couldn’t finish half of it.  I got a stern lesson that night about biting off more than I could chew.

It’s been a good while since, but I’m finding that lesson valuable right now.

There are things I need: regular yoga classes, time to write in my journal with a cup of tea, time to grab coffee with friends, time to knit and listen to the radio.  When I start thinking that I’m invincible and that I don’t need these things, that I can volunteer, work, tutor, help, learn instead, I rob myself of that time.  I begin to have mini anxiety attacks, I don’t sleep well, my arms shake during yoga practice.

I think it’s time to pare down to the work I love, the work I’m great at, and to withdraw myself from the rest.

I was reading an article tonight about manifestations of the emotional self being expressed by the body.  (When did I turn into such a hippie?)  I realized that my anxiety attacks, my less-than-ideal communications and my restless nights have a source.

That tattoo on my arm, the one that says “knowledge is power”?  It applies to knowledge of myself, too.  I need to keep that in mind now.

I missed my yoga class this morning, but I still got a good workout by walking from the metro in the snow and the wind.  Later I’ll go shovel the front steps and that should complete my cardio requirements for the day!

It’s beautiful out there once you’re inside, drinking tea and writing.

Decided I need some work clothes and a Myriade latté.  Got the latté, the first since December 22nd, the night before I went to Mexico.

(Oh yeah, I just came back from Mexico. Gorgeous weather, great hotel, the food was delicious, I didn’t tan, I only brought back one bottle of Tequila and no, you can’t have it.)

So I was walking around downtown, and while many of the clothes were dirt-cheap discounted for post-Christmas madness, I didn’t like any of them.  Nothing fit right, the fabrics were all cheap, the seams were crooked.   Then I realized that I loved what I was currently wearing, and that it was all vintage.  I trekked down the hill to ERA Vintagewear, where I spent a lovely afternoon trying on suits and walking around in high-heeled sandals.  Wonderful.

Since getting back from Mexico, my evenings have been spent sitting in our living room (J. re-did it while I was gone, our books are finally on shelves, which reminds me that I don’t need to buy any new ones.) drinking tea (or Hendrick’s and tonic!) and reading The Joy of Cooking as if it were a novel.  Sometimes I’ll watch a TV show while knitting the beautiful Skara Brae sweater, and once in awhile I’ll get hungry and cook something from the book — on the 31st it was Mushrooms on Toast, which is much more decadent than it sounds.

The cold is teasing us.  I remember pinning a poppy to my red wool jacket last year, and this year I was still wearing cotton by the 11th, so I guess it’s been warmer, or I have finally built up that mythical east-coast tolerance to the cold.   We have days when there is frost on the front yard and days when I don’t even wear a hat.   The thermostat is set at 15, just in case there’s a cold snap.  I’ve started shrink-wrapping our windows, which is terribly unattractive but, hopefully, will keep the hydro bill under $500 for two months.

(I’ve been messing around with Wordpress for ten minutes trying to upload pictures of fall leaves and new knitting projects. No success.  While I figure out what the problem is, go watch this video and get as addicted to Sarah Haskins as I am.)

Currently on my desk:

- A metal stand that holds a yoga schedule, a coupon for a free massage, and some course outlines

- The plant M. gave us for our housewarming.  It’s grown so much in the past year.

- A fork, from the chocolate cake I had for “lunch”

- The glass teapot J. gave me for Christmas two years ago.  The filter is broken and the handle is threatening to fall off, but I’m reluctant to buy a new one.

- A calculator and some paper, filled up with economics homework.  I have an exam in the morning, and I’m still doing practice tests.

I find it useful to take stock once in awhile, to note down exactly what I see.  I’m having trouble with this economics exam because it requires no research, no further reading, and no imagination — just numbers and formulas and understanding.

My knitting keeps tempting me — it’s kind of the opposite of economics.  It requires imagination, it’s tactile, you don’t need to understand, just follow along and obtain the end product.  I enjoy understanding the intricacies of knitting, but I don’t need to.

Listening to an episode of This American Life recorded in 2001, about Ted Haggard and his neighbourhood prayer program, then reading about the gay-sex-and-drugs he was engaging in, which came to public attention in 2006.

First non-medicinal ingredient in Solarcaine, in english: Aloe Extract.

First non-medicinal ingredient in Solarcaine, in french: Acétate isoceteth-3 de propylèneglycol.

Either way, it feels pretty good on my face. The Sunscreen Queen, who usually slathers on SPF 50 every morning, took a break for the long weekend. I went up to J.’s family’s cottage, where I read, knit, went for long walks, and sat in peace by the lake. It was a nice chance to relax before school starts to get hectic.

Birthdays seem to be less and less of a big deal.

I don’t remember it, but my first birthday was, I think, a big deal.  My mom kept written records of our first birthday parties, and I remember seeing a list of gifts, people invited, celebrations.  Of course, by then, my sister was a week away from being born, so there was probably much excitement for that, too

Since our birthdays are so close, we more often than not had joint birthday celebrations.  I remember having a few friends over, sitting at a small table on the front porch, decorating cupcakes.  I must have been pretty young for that one.

Another year, (Seventh?  Eigth?) my babysitter brought us to McDonald’s (down the street; the usual place for cookies and apple juice), and when we came back home, there was a surprise birthday party.

Another time, I remember a pretty fancy iced-tea party.  Actually, I’m not sure that was for a birthday.   My mom threw some pretty awesome parties!  The more things go, the more my aesthetic tends to resemble hers.  I’d totally throw a fancy iced-tea party today!

My ninth (actually, probably tenth; my ninth birthday was just a few weeks after having moved to Vancouver) birthday was spent at Buntzen Lake.  I remember someone drowned; some dude jumped out of his canoe to fetch his sandal from overboard, followed it too far down, and couldn’t swim back up.

My fifteenth birthday, we’d just moved back to Quebec, and knew hardly anyone.  My mom, wanting to be festive, invited some people I’d been hanging out with over.  They were, I realize now, exactly the wrong people for me to hang out with, but, you know.  Small town.

My eighteenth birthday was handled by MusiquePlus, the French-Canadian MTV.   Having been born on September 2, 1986, the day they went on air, they decided to throw a whole bunch of co-birthday-celebrators a party, complete with guests, a concert, and beer.

Two years ago, for 21, J. and I went to Boston for the weekend.  Stayed at a gorgeous bed and breakfast, went to a Red Sox game.  I had been toying with the idea of shaving my head, and I finally did it on that day.  I got the most spectacular chills from the wind on my bare scalp that afternoon, and seeing myself in the mirror the next morning was thrilling.

Tomorrow is 23, and I have nothing planned.  J. and I are going to his family’s cottage for the weekend, and there’s a joint birthday fancy-outing with my dad scheduled for later in the month, but tomorrow, I’m going to work, and then going to school.  Birthdays make me nervous.  It’s almost like a judgment: how many people will remember?   Will it be special enough?  It’s terribly hard for me to not care.  Everything becomes very personal around my birthday.

What do you do to mark your birth date?

Things I want:

• To remember that wonderful post-yoga feeling all week.
• To lose my fear of fabric stores and finally learn quilting
• Higher quality stuff for the price I pay — no more runs in brand-new stockings.
• Less noise, less violent movies, fewer people blowing smoke in my face on the street.

I did not read “The Secret”, I don’t adhere to that belief in the law of attraction.  What I do believe in is that by putting things out there, they become commitments.  Accountability is powerful!

I’ve been reading a few great sites lately, notably The Art of Non-Conformity and The Fluent Self and Millionaire Mommy Next Door.  I get lost in their archives, I get their content sent to my inbox instead of reading it in an RSS feed.  There’s a ton of inspiration out there.