Preparing for Parkage: Getting it all Clean to get Dirty

I hate laundry.

I really and truly do.

It takes little snippets of time that add up.

It isn’t so much the actual doing of it, though it is a pain to have to set timers and get everything down there (especially if you put off laundry and have more than one basket load to do), but it’s the fact that it needs to be done, and that you have to put everything away afterwards.

It makes me sound like a lazy slob, but it’s the truth, and I’m sure that everyone at least has some days where the thought of doing laundry prompts a groan.

Laundry is a bit of a must at the moment, making sure that my work clothing is all packed and ready to go for on the 26th.

I must have at least five work shirts and 5 work pants, paired with at least three tank tops and three t-shirts. I must have a couple of sweaters and a few long-sleeved shirts as well, just in case the weather goes Wonky.

The weather network says that it’s supposed to be a warm summer, but Lexy worked at Sleeping Giant Park, and it started snowing partway through a canoe trip.

So that’s adding Long Johns to the list as well.

That’s just work clothing.

Pants from the side... most times they aren't as obvious as this, and just have the same colour as the pants material for patches. I go to TNT for my pants.

To clarify, work shirts are pretty much tan/other coloured button-up shirts that have sleeves. The buttons can be undone, and the sleeves can be rolled up when it’s hot. But it also means that you have the option of protecting your arms from bug bites, or from unexpected coldness. 😀

Work Pants have very simple requirement for me, and it’s something that a couple of the other girls at Rangers found out about after the unfortunate sound.

Work pants must have reinforcement patches on both the knees, and, as uncomfortable as it must sound, the crotch.

The unfortunate sound is the sound of ripped pants.

It’s really not great  when one of your work shirts is borrowed so that your buddy can cover the rip in her pants, and it’s not all that great having your bug spray/bug wipes used up because people spray it down the rips in their knees to attack bugs that have crawled in there.

So Laundry is the next part of Summer Parkage Prep.

Fun…

Why am I doing this again?

Oh, right, money, experience, and muscle buildup, as well as being paid for a camping trip…

Ciao and Zzzzz for now.

~Doodled93~

P.S. Props for this girl for going on a four-day camping trip when life was a bit too much, and for publicly apologizing when she gets back because she didn’t tell anyone and everyone thought she’d gone missing, sans id and wallet.

*THUNK* AAAAAH! Save the Birds

Today I was startled from working on Part 2 of my Woofstock post by a startling noise combination.

*Thunk*

AAAAAAHHHH!

And then general sounds of bustling around.

I had thought that perhaps someone in my family unfamiliar (like one of my parents, or Emma) with how to use our chuck-it (a ball flinger) had jokingly gestured with it towards our back deck, and, in the way luck usually goes, a ball was flung at one of our windows and the rebound nearly hit Lexy.

Maybe on the back of her head, maybe on her arm, but I was picturing it as it was nearly hitting her in the head.

No, not because I have secret wishes of violence towards Lexy, but because it is usually the worst possible (and most times most amusing) situation that runs through my head.

So I ran to the back door, expecting someone injured (possibly) and someone embarrassed (possibly), and likely someone laughing.

If no one was there to laugh, I feel a bit as if I would have been the one to laugh, after asking the needed “what’s wrong?”.

That was not the case.

No laughing.

No.

I looked out our screen door and saw Lexy pulling and excited looking Gwynn off of our back porch, and Mom and Dad looking worried.

It is at this point that I should tell you that my actual first thought about what the *THUNK* noise was, was that it was a bird, as many, many birds end up hitting into the window right next to the computer, and then fly away. occasionally a lesser *THIK* will hit the window, and it will turn out to be a rather large bug.

But this happens regularly, the *THUNK* fly away.

Less, now, that we have shadow stickers on our windows, but I’ll get more on that later.

But it was the following “AAH!” that threw me off, as well as a moment of poor directional hearing.

Here is a picture of the window by the computer in our living room.

To the left, if you could see below it, there would be the porch, and my sister sitting in a chair right below it...

The window that I thought the bird had hit was the one to the right. After I heard Lexy yell I thought that a ball had hit the window, not a bird, and that, as I said earlier, it hit Lexy (prompting the “Aah!”).

But back to the story. Lexy was pulling Gwynn away, and dad was not looking happy. In front of one of the chairs was a little yellow thing.

As you can see, this was no ball...

It was not a Ball.

And it was obvious why Gwynn was looking so excited.

He probably thought it was a chew toy that came from above.

Mom thought we should probably move it, but Dad was pretty stern in saying “NO.”

I remember last summer I was working up near Thunder Bay at a dock, cleaning off the underside of boats to prevent invasive species from spreading, and a woodpecker flew into a door. I was fairly far away at the time, and was pretty worried, but before I could get there, some people started crowding around.

One guy had the bright idea to try to pick it up.

The stunned woodpecker had enough energy to recognize that it was injured, and a large THING was touching it, so it did what any injured and confused animal would do.

It fled.

Flew a fair distance too, right into the edge of a dock, whereupon it sunk in the water.

So Mom did not move the bird. It was a good idea, at least in the mindset that Gwynn was still looking longingly at the bird, but we just took him inside for untill the bird left.

It did not move for a while either, but I could see its beak moving, probably from it freaking out.

We left it alone, making dinner (which had SOME mild interaction with it, since it was right in front of our bbq, and we needed it to make dinner), and I thought it had died from shock, since I couldn’t see its beak moving anymore.

It’s legs were pulled up tight to its body, and it’s beak wasn’t moving. I wasn’t about to feel and see if it’s chest was moving, so Dad suggested/Told us to leave it alone still.

I left for a while, and then, TADA! It wasn’t on its side anymore! It was just sitting on our porch!

HE LIVES! For now...

 It was very exciting, and dad was quick to point out that he was right in leaving it alone.

But it wasn’t moving after that.

What a great thing to happen on Father’s day, huh? And right in front of Dad too… But then again, it happened pretty much ON TOP of Lexy, so at least it isn’t as bad as it could have been.

I left again, after taking the picture, very happy that the little guy was living.

I have to admit that the reason why I decided to take pictures in the first place (besides the fact that I now have bloggeritis, a disease that says “take a picture, and write about it!”), was because if it didn’t live I was going to write a memorial Blog for it, and encourage people to put shadow stickers on their windows, but, it seems like the little guy had a will for life.

The next time I checked, he was still there, and even the time after that, and I was kind of worried about him possibly being dead even after standing up (“If I have to die be some strange bit of solid air, I’m gonna do it standing, dammit!”), but on the third check, he wasn’t there.

Now here’s where the crazy and sane parts of me kick in.

Sane: “YES! He LIVES! Fly Free and Alive Cute Yellow One!”

Insane: “Oh my GOD! Gwynn got out and ATE HIM!”

I happily told Mom and Dad about the fact that the bird was gone, since, the Sane part of me said that if Gwynn had gotten out, SOMEONE would have noticed, right?

Insane: “OhMyGOD! Hunter ATE HIM!!”

Sane went quiet.

For those of you who don’t know, Hunter is the stray black cat with green eyes that hunts around my back yard. He walks like a hunter, which is why I call him that, and he kills the pigeons in our backyard. Also, he walks like a villain in a children’s movie, like Edgar from Arisocats.

Mom calmed me down by saying that yeah, he few off a few minutes ago.

Sane breathed a sigh of relief, even as Insane muttered about how the Yellow One was safe, but the Pigeons probably weren’t.

I put off finishing off my Woofstock Pt 2 post to tell people about this struggle (?) for life, and about the hazards our windows pose for our feathered neighbors.

If you scroll up to the picture of the two windows by my computer, you will notice the shadowish looking bird shadow on the window to the right. That was put there so that it would show that there was something solid there, or at least something that the birds should avoid (hence the predator-bird shape, rather than a sparrow or something).

If you have window space that is clear , and have nothing in the way of it, please put up a sticker, or some other indication thing on your windows.

They do not damage your windows, and you don’t have to get them wet or sticky to put them on, though it is suggested to put them on the inside of your window rather than the outside.

Save your feathered friends the trauma of hitting a window.

It’s not a nice sound, and it is rather startling to see little poufs of feathers floating away, as once happened when a Bluejay hit the window.

That bird was well enough to fly away immediately (Insane muttered about the unfairness that none of the pretty feathers fell off, only the grey blah looking tiny ones), and this Yellow Finch today managed to fly away after about an hour of sitting in shock, but it is always a worry that some day Hunter will get a free snack, thanks to one of our windows.

Check out this site and this birding site  for some more ways to keep birds from hitting your windows.

Also, if you notice, hitting something when you are unaware of it is much more painful than if you notice it at the last second. Windows are always clear to birds, and it has the bad joke at the end in the fact that they still don’t know what hit them afterwards.

Not all birds are like Angry Bird, and can go through things like that.

He's angry because his brethren are being held up to his unrealistic standard! He will not stand for this!

 Save the Birds!

Buy a sticker!

Preparing for Parkage Part I; Driving Boots

Okay, as I mentioned in one of my previous posts, I have a job this summer at Grundy Park, working maintenance for the Park.

There are a couple of things that I generally have to have for the job to be open to me (as I said before, most of it was obvious like I

I got a surprising amount of help from the driving instructor...

must be a Canadian resident and suchlike), but it was mainly that I needed to have certain forms filled out before I got there (the acceptance to the job for one, and the staff house I-agree-to-the-rules agreement that they sent to me about a week ago), certified steel-toed work boots, and, oh, my G2 license.

The license that I didn’t get until Tuesday (Mark it, Tuesday June 14, 2011, Doodled93 got her G2 License!)…

No, I wouldn't have let this happen. Don't be a dink, don't drive and drink...

Yay I got my License!

So happy! XD *hugs*

It was only 15 minutes or so, and it was pretty easy. They made me do left and right turns, parallel parking, uphill parking, and a 3-point turn on a road that I could have easily done a U-turn on.

The guys talked more than I thought he would (I thought it would be limited to directions, but he told me [among other things] that I should be less cautious about my turns), but was really nice.

And I passed 😀

Don’t worry, despite the picture I don’t drive drunk, I’m underage…. But when I’m 19, ho ho, look out world…

Joking! Don’t arrest me!

Ahem.

Yay for that it of stressfullness being gone.

So I’ve been born and raised in Canada, I have filled out and sent the forms, I got my License, and from last summer I have my certified steel-toed boots!

Yay!

But wait, what does it mean to have Certified Steel-Toed boots?

The Green Triangle of Certified-ness

Besides the fact that you can drop heavy things on your toes when wearing them without worry of injury, your steel-toed boots are certified if they have a little green triangle on the side of them.

Yeah, it’s that simple.

My boots do not look like my sample picture though. Well, they have the little green patch, but they aren’t brown, and they’re entirely leather. And dirty.

We (my sisters and I) wore our boots to this huge dog walk thing out in the woods, and it was rainy and wet (MUD) when we went out.

My boots were kind of scuffed up as well…

So Dad brought out his dad’s old shoe-polishing kit, gave me some saddle soap, and told me to wash the boots (including Lexy and Emma’s).

Well…

Of course I hadn’t even thought about taking pictures of the before they were cleaned, and only of the next stage, but whatever.

The bottom one is what you use to put and rub in the polish, you just dab it into the polish and rub like a fiend. the top brush is what you use to make it shiny and cool looking. You rub it over the polish after t's dried to take off the excess.

Hot water and a cloth took off the worst of the dirt, and then using that cloth on the saddle soap took off a

This is a slightly blurry picture of the polish (not people from Poland!)

great deal more, and quickly dunking the boots into the bucket of slightly+ murky water took off the saddle soap.

And then we waited for them to dry.

A couple of hours later Dad gave me two long brushes, and this odd-looking jar of what liked to me like someone had scraped off all the dark sticky stuff from a grill and stuck it into a jar. It wasn’t, in case that wasn’t obvious. It was a jar of Polish. (not people)

He showed me how to do my own boots by demonstrating on the grayish looking scuff on the toe, and mumbo presto the scuff was gone!

This is the after picture, of my pretty unscuffed (looking) boots!

Hah, Microsoft Word hasn’t underlined mumbo presto in red. (wp did though)

Yes… because I am right! It’s gone!

Bwahaha!

 Yes, yes, First Mine and Lexy’s boots, Next THE WORLD!

EVERYTHING SHALL BE POLISHED!

 Not really, that would use up all fo Dads polish…

Moving on.

I did the little that was to do on my own boots (they had one summers wear on them) and moved onto the colossal task that was Lexy’s boots (which had TWO summers + Construction site use + More regular use).

Had to unlace the boots to get at every part of it....

Sadly we couldn’t find Emma’s boots in order for my newfound ability to polish to be abused more, and the boots that she used on that walk weren’t the right kind of leather and weren’t steel-toed. We really need to find them… You don’t realise it untill you have to find it, but Size 5 Steel-toed boots are hard to come by.

I didn’t have to do it for mine, but her boots tongue had to be done as well, so I had to take out her old, taped-at-the-end laces too.

 Her boots took a significantly longer time to polish up…

And she wasn’t around when I was polishing Boots, so I was worried that she’d get home and tell me that she REALLY DIDN”T WANT TO HAVE HER BOOTS POLISHED, and that Dad was wrong in saying that it’s be a NICE surprise for her.

Was honestly worried about that, yeah.

Thought that her boots were almost like this from the beginning, and that she would be upset at me for changing their look… untill she came home, seemed pleasantly surprised, and I remembered that no, she didn’t buy the boots looking like this, they were just well used and haven’t been polished for 5-6 years.

This is the difference before and after I finished using the polish on Lexy's boots... Left= Done, Right= Not Done

There was definitely a bit of stress for those few minutes of I-haven’t-finished-polishing-these-and-she-isn’t-home-yet…

So I scrubbed and polished untill I was done, noticing that this was much easier on my back than scrubbing the dirt off of them was, and had a nice time outside talking with Dad while I worked.

Still scuffed, but now pretty 🙂

It’s interesting to see that, though I’m polishing them and making them look all (kinda) new and shiny, you can still see that they’re scuffed. Well, that seems kind of obvious, but from far away they just look mildly used, rather than constantly used like Lexy’s boots have been.

And then they were done.

My boots (left) and Lexy's boots (right), looking all prim and polished...

Now I just have to finish spraying the boots with this suff that’ll make the leather a bit more water proof, and i’ll be done prepping my boots for the summer! I still ended up taking my laces out to spray them down, and after another coat of the stuff I’ll put them back in.

Yay for Part 1 done!

Grades vs. Prom Dress Shopping

Hey all!

It was fairly recently (as in before I even started the blog) that my school gave out our midterms, something that means that, sometime soon, the school will then be sending out those grades to universities and colleges. That is something that is different than the past 11 years of my schooling, but there was one more thing that was radically different, at least for me;

This time I wasn’t dreading the marks.

This is what I used when Marks were coming in...

There is something that I should point out now, before I tell of my not-so unspectacular marks, and hopefully it will explain a bit as to why I took the courses that I did.  For the past three years I was pretty convinced that I wanted to go into Engineering, architectural or civil, and took courses that would get me into a good university so I could go on and BE an engineer. I did all the sciences, I took all the math’s, I did a lot of looking into the various kind of jobs that I could go into—all that stuff, and it was about 3/5th’s of the way through first semester this year that I realized quite how much I really didn’t want to deal with that.

My schedule went something like, physics, religion (I am not religious, but go to a catholic school), double art, and Advanced functions, and my schedule at the beginning of THIS semester was English, Calculus and Vectors, double art, and chemistry.

It was due to my Physics class paired with the fact that I was doing less than stellar in my math class that made me realize that I was mainly going for engineering because a) Lexy was an engineer, b) it would pay lots of money and would almost guarantee a job, c) I really like buildings, and thought it would be cool to be like “hey, I helped build/design that house/building/structure”, and a great deal of d) I don’t actually know what I want to do, and this seems like a good option.

Physics is a class that I didn’t really have an issue with in grade 11, but I don’t know whether or not it was the teacher this year, or because of the content, but I am absolutely serious in saying that if there is any way to avoid physics, I will. If someone offers me money to redo the class, it would have to be a large sum of money, and it would have to be on the promise to pay me double if I got higher than 70. I may sound violently against this, but that’s because I find it extremely easy to despise a subject that makes me feel like an absolute failure, no matter how much I study for it.

This is an example of Brownstone...isn't it awesome?

I think it may have also been the math in it and for those of you who haven’t realized yet, you kind of really need math (and Physics) to be an engineer.

Like, really, really need it.

So nope, I reevaluated everything, and figured out that no, I just really like old buildings (like Victorian and brownstone buildings), and I think that a majority of the idea of Eng as a career was because I had no clue what else I could do and figured that my sis was doing pretty well as an engineer, so why not?

I don’t know how many people go through their high school career thinking things like this, or maybe going for what seems convenient, but it was not a great feeling, realizing I could have been taking a number of more art-oriented courses.

In a way, I was kind of lucky that I didn’t use any of my spares (my school only allows two spare periods) first semester. Because there was no way that I would be able to get through the day with both Calc. and Chem. in one day. As it is now, I have only English and then after a spare, Art, and then I can go home. Escape! Bwahaha!

Ah! What a wonderful thing that is!

This is a Victorian building... I want to live here!!!!!

But I have pretty much gone almost entirely off track from report cards.

So yeah, report cards come around, and I’m not worried in the least. I did not do well in Math or Physics first semester, and I couldn’t get out of Chemistry until after midterms came out, so that was my lowest mark.

Anyway, including an online mark, my top six marks average up to 83.333… %, so I’m good for the average since it’s only the top six marks that universities look at. So I personally don’t see an issue, except that maybe I could get a couple of marks higher in my online course. However pretty much EVERYONE is cranking down on me to get higher marks, to watch my marks, to make sure that I do my best.

Really, I have two courses this semester, with one online course. Art is something that I could do with my eyes closed, and still get a high mark (I got a 93 in both courses), and English is my favourite subject, and I’m getting an 81 while in Advanced placement. Advanced Placement is exactly what it sounds like, and if your school has an IB program, it’s kind of like that.

I realize that the marks are important, but I really don’t believe that stressing over marks when they are fine is going to make them better. No, I don’t have as great marks as, say, Lexy did when she went to high school, but honestly I’ve grown up with people telling me that I shouldn’t hold myself up against, or try to be like Lexy, and yet this keeps on coming up?

This is my last few months as a high school student, and I will be acting like a total dork when I graduate and will probably only ever visit to be able to say “I’VE GRADUATED AND I’M NOT HERE FOR SCHOOL!”

I want to be able to enjoy it until the last week at least, where upon I will study my butt off for my single exam.

Until then I will do my assignments, fill out job applications for the summer, and look for a prom dress/grad. dress, WHICH, I might add, is stressful enough.

I have never seriously gone dress shopping until last weekend, and the trip only secured the knowledge that I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT IT REALLY MEANS TO DRESS SHOP.

Guys, if you are reading this and scoffing at the thought of dress shopping being that much harder than, say, suit shopping, then you are wrong. Those who have the y chromosome and have no interest in wearing (let along shopping for) a dress will now be regaled with the kinds of questions that one of my friends (who is more than adept at dress shopping) asked when we walked into the first dress shop. Please note that by the end you would probably be freaking out as much as I did, if not more.

Guys, you'd be freaking out like this kid, or perhaps like this horse...

This looks darker in real life, and looks (in my opinion) better on me than on this model... I don't really like it on the model...

What kind of cut do you want?

What length do you want?

Does the fabric matter to you?

Do you prefer sequins, ___ (insert something she mentioned but I have no clue what it is) ___ or stones?

Why don’t you want floor length?

What colours do you prefer?

Well then, what colours do you NOT want?

Do you have any idea of what LOOK you even want?

Did you want a halter top, strapless, ___, off the shoulder, blah-de-blah, insert-some-other-kind-that-made-me-baffled, or what?

Are you planning on wearing heels? Flats?

Do you want to be able to wear leggings with it?

And it went on like that; until it got t the point that I hid out in the changing room, and told my two friends to just grab whatever they think would look good, or whatever. And to just guess what size I am, ’cause the numbers freak me out. Why can’t they just put XL, L, M, S, or XS rather than the numbers? My one friend (the more than adept one, since Buddy#2 was just laughing because she had to go through this before, and already had her dress, and is just as not-adept as I am) said that I might be a 1, but that seems too small, but I tried on a 5 and it was TOOOO big. 

Yeah guys, a 5. In shoes that’s downright tiny, and it was too big as a dress.

 And Friend 1 was right, I’m a 1… pssh…

Quick bit of info about my two friends since I feel as ifI’ll be mentioning them again in the near-ish future: Friend 1 /Buddy #1(both will have code-names later probably) knows about dress shopping and is someone I’ve known since middle school, but only really got to know in highschool, and Friend 2/Buddy #2 is someone I’ve known since gr. 9, but have had almost all of my classes with her… Friend 2/Buddy #2  is not less than Friend 1/Buddy #1, but I figured for the moment I would call her 2 because i’ve known 1 longer. If you read this, 2, don’t shake your head at me, it’s certainly not MY fault that you didn’t go to a public school for middleschool ;P

And yes I realise that it’s also not YOUR fault that I didn’t go to a Catholic School in middleschool.

This is my third choice...

So I tactifully retreated (some may call it hiding), and occasionally came out in between fighting with zippers, stupid gauze-ey things that were supposed to tie in some odd fashion, zippers that HID from me and were infinitely more irritating than the ones that just fought with me, little clips and clasps that didn’t clip or clasp the right way, and got a couple of pictures of the ones that weren’t entirely horrible…

I’m fairly certain that the maker of the dresses were fairly devious when they were figuring out how ther wanted it to be tied and whatnot, since everything was complex enough that I had to get it readjusted once I got out… the only reason why I didn’t get help while puting it on was because I didn’t feel like flashing the entire store, nor did I want to go out of the changing rooms clutching the dress to my chest.

And yeah, the entire thing was mildly scarring for me, so I’m going to do my best to avoid that stuff in the future.

But hey, I got a couple of dress options that I like (second choice is here), and will probably be going to pick one of them up soon-ish…

But I’m not going to let prom shopping worry me any more than I’ll let grades worry me 😀

Instead I’ll wallow in agony over the fact that the prom tickets are $120 each, and the prom comittee, instead of booking us for a cool, old Opera house, decided to go to some sort of community hall-type thing…

Ciao~