The Ugly Sweater Brigade

Sometime ago, a certain sibling of mine inducted her then boyfriend into two exclusive clubs; the ugly tie and t-shirt clubs. Many years later and he has now graduated from these brotherhoods and has now entered the world of business casual. Now he sports funky t-shirts and suave ties, in replace of the free t-shirts and just plain old ugly silk nooses. She has won her battle.

I am just beginning mine.

There comes that time of day when PJs are tossed aside for the more restricting yet more fashionable attire of things such as jeans and sweaters. And so many times, my darling Nick has pulled on a sweater, looked at me and said "This is a nice sweater, right?"

Panic strikes. I don't know what to say. Do I agree? Do I pretend that, yes that thing is acceptable? Or do I tell him the truth? I don't want to hurt his feelings. So I do what every good girlfriend does. I cock my head to the side and go with obviously false agreement.

"Do you think it's a nice sweater?" Always best to answer with a question.

"I did...." The seeds of doubt have been planted.

"Well... if you like it, then you wear it."

The wheels turn in his cute little head. "Ohh...." he whines. "You hate my sweater don't you!"

Again not wanting to be cruel. "I don't hate it..." I lie.

"Fine." His tone reminds me of a child agreeing to eat his broccoli. "I'll wear something different."

I stop paying attention to what he's doing and continue getting ready myself. A few minutes pass and I turn around. He has changed his sweater.

I don't have to say anything. My face speaks for itself.

"You don't like this on either?!" Defeat is near.

"I didn't say that." Remain calm.

"Where's the sweater you bought me?"

"In the drawer." Another battle won, but the war is not over.Thus I bring you the Ugly Sweater Brigade.

One never knows when its soldiers may come over the horizon and into the tender light of day. Each of its members offensive for different, yet similar reasons. It is not going to be an easy task banishing all of its members to the good-will bag. But one day, in the hopefully not too far off future, I will be able to look in the closet and know that the Ugly Sweater Brigade has lost its fight and been defeated.

Whom I look Like (aparently)

Management

As of today, I am now management. I am the new manager of the La Senza Girl, which is just about to open in a mall here. It's actually pretty exciting.

My store (which it is) opens on friday. I have been spending the past few days training my new staff (which I hired). I found out today how much my salary is. Yes, the wonderful world of salary! I will now know exactly how much my pay cheque will be. No more guessing, no more weeks with less than 40 hours. And bonuses...!

Anyways.

I must admit there is a whole lot of responsibility that goes along with this job. I have a lot of paperwork and a lot of procedure to follow. And I'm not sure that I'm actually trained up to scratch yet. However, I met the manager of my sister store in the other mall and if she can do it (which she seems to barely do) I think i'll be ok with one hand tied behind my back. I have faith in myself.

Here's something kind of funny. Most of my staff are teenagers, and when we were training today, they were all making comments on the fashions that are in store at the moment. Which happens to be tunics and leggings. They are all going on about how they wore that when they were kids in the 80s. Ok. I've entered you into the system. You were born in 88 or 89! You do not get to claim you even existed in the 80s if you were wearing diapers the entire time. I can believe that you were forced to wear out-of-date fashions when you where children in the 90s. (Since you weren't even a teenager until the 00s). I mean, you are from Alberta after all. Kinda bugs me, and makes me feel pretty old.

Flashback: Anyone reading this remember how in grade 3 or 4 we all had matching leopard print leggings and shirts from kid and kabbodle? Yeah. That was cool. There were like 10 of us all with the same outfit. I remembering begging my mom to buy it for me, and her not wanting to because she thought I wouldn't wear it and that it was kind of expensive. But oh did I wear it.

Back to the point. I am now in charge of a staff of what currently stands at 7. They all report to me. I am responsible for them and the store. And for pretty much everything else. It's actually somewhat daunting. But I think I'm ready.

The store opens friday. I'll let you know how it goes.

A brief tour of Red Deer

Today I ventured out into the wilds of "downtown" Red Deer. I brought along my trusty camera phone, and snapped some shots as I walked along. Here is Red Deer in all it's daytime glory.

The trees and parking meters that line 53rd Street.

The old Red Deer Court House... which now houses businesses, including a psychic studio.

The "City" of Red Deer, "City" Hall. I'm not sure I can accept the whole city thing.

The bus terminal, where I catch the number 1 to get to work.

I found this banner today. It claims that Red Deer was the 'Cultural Capital of Canada' in 2003. I'm not convinced, and slightly confused by this.

I had to stop taking photos at this point, because not only did I feel really strange taking pictures on the street (it's not like Toronto, there aren't any tourists), but my hands were absolutely freezing. However, I am definitely getting used to the cold. It was minus 20 today, and I was surprised to find out it was that cold. Not sure how I feel about that.

It burns!

The other night I came home from work to Nick making me dinner. Or rather Nick boiling water for pasta, but I guess that counts. On my way home I had to pick up some milk to help quench his insatiable need for the mammary liquid of cows, and I also pick up some garlic bread. I called ahead so that the oven would be nice and up to temperature when I got home. I was pretty tired from my day and also quite hungry.

I decided that I'd shower after dinner, and changed out of my black work clothes (no blazer at the moment... instead we get to wear shirts that are as long as dresses that say "Sexy is Back!" in hot pink across them... try wearing those on your break in the mall!) and into PJs. I oversaw Nick as he cooked the pasta, and when the timer when off I grabbed a tea towel and took the baking tray which the bread was on out of the oven. Unfortunately the cloth was quite wet, and the heat went right through and started to burn my fingertips. In a hurry I threw the tray down on the stove top, and ran my fingers under cold water. I had sort of thrown the tray in a bad place, so Nick moved it to on top of the cutting board on the counter.

After setting the table, Nick went into the fridge to grab a drink, I backed out of his way and directly into the just-out-of-the-over baking tray. I immediately screamed bloody murder. I had managed to burn my skin directly. My shirt was a bit pulled up, and my PJ bottoms low. Perfect.

Initially I didn't think the burn was that bad, and even though my initial reaction was to run the burn under cold water, the placement of the burn made that rather difficult. Looking in the freezer, the only frozen things we had were hamburger buns and bread. No good. So instead I settled for cooling the area with a can of diet Pepsi (the same drink Nick had been getting out of the fridge!). For the first little bit, the Pepsi can worked to numb the area. But then I could feel the burn heating up. Me (already in hysterics, I'll admit it) was very freaked out by our lack of ice. Then Nick, with a shit-happy grin, grabbed a zip-lock bag and a big spoon and went out on to the balcony. It's winter. Who needs ice, when you've got snow?

For the next hour or so I sat on the couch feeling sorry for myself as I iced my hip. But then I had to tackle the next issue. I had to get up early for work the next morning and I wanted to wash my hair that night, to save time and energy. However, as anyone who has had a burn knows (sunburn most definitely applies here), showers can be incredibly painful. I had yet to thaw out the area around my burn and didn't really feel like inflicting any more pain on myself. So, Nick filled me a new baggie of snow and he very kindly held it on my back for me as I sobbed and washed my hair.

Feeling very pathetic, I knew I had to thaw out my burn before I went to bed. So I tossed my baggie of snow, and waited for the pain. And painful it was. Fortunately the pain plateaued before I went to bed, and I managed to sleep ok.

The burn is looking okay now but is still causing some discomfort (especially as my trousers rub against it).

I have learnt several things from this experience.

a) i hate my baking tray

b) burns in strange places are no fun

c) snow is a wonderful thing

You Betcha!

Nick pointed out to me the other day that people in Alberta say "You Bet" and "You Betcha" a whole bunch. I had noticed it myself, but hadn't payed all that much attention to it. But now it's all I freaking hear. Any question can be answered with one of the two. Any query, quandary, wonder, ponder... yeah, they can all be answered with one of those two highly irritating phrases.

"Is it ok if I go on my break?"

"You bet."

"Is that everything for you today?"

"You bet"

"$86.73 on your visa today?"

"You betcha."

"Did you find the size you were looking for?"

"You betcha."

"Do you have a Prestige Card?"

"You bet."

"Did you find all the quasi S&M lingerie you were looking for today?"

"You betcha!"

Am I going to go crazy?

You Bet!

Have I started saying it?

YOU BETCHA!!!