Well, clearly, I'm the most beautiful of them.

Oh, wait, that's not what you meant. You wanna know who my diddy is.

I think it's so interesting that I get asked this in my day to day travels around the Island. I feel like I'm famous (even though I know that many people on the Island get asked this on a daily basis).

I actually hate my last name but it is quite an interesting one. I'd love to change it if I could. To something that no one would ever recognise. So no one would ever ask me again who the hell my father is. Or, I could always just leave and be among the anonymous. I would have no problem with this.

My family is also quite well known in the restaurant business and in the sailing world (my dad). The man behind the counter at Marine and Ports was the one who asked me while I picked up the registration for my kayak today. I'd never seen him before in my life. I just answered, "I'm EB's daughter."

Sometimes I like to embellish a little more.

"You know, EB and LB, they're the managers of (very popular seafood restaurant). That's my mom and dad."

or

"Yeah, my dad's EB. He went to the Olympics." That's my favourite one. Then I really feel like I'm famous.

On some occasions they'll reply that they went to school with one of them. Later on I might find out that my father actually dated the person back in the day.

It's too small sometimes in this place. Just too small.

I began rowing as a senior in high school up in Massachusetts. I remember how awesome I looked in my prom dress after a season of butt kicking on the erg and as seven seat in our 8.

When I left high school and became the couch potato I am today I never imagined that I would ever be able to row again, especially if I moved back home. When I saw them sculling along Kindley Field Road last summer I was thoroughly taken by surprise but ecstatic that someone had gotten rowing up and running on the Island.

A few calls and a little Internet research by NTF and SarahT and I were out doing one of our favourite things.

Yesterday, I received an e-mail offering me a seat in the associations new 4 (which can also be turned into a quad as seen in this picture)

Photo provided by BRA

I'll be training three to four times a week if we can work out scheduling and it will be the major butt kick I need. I'll be rowing with younger girls, two of which are currently rowing competitively at school right now. So, I'll need to pull out all the mental and physical stops to keep up with them. If it all works out, it will finally give me the motivation I've been looking for and maybe I might look as good as I did in that prom dress (I won't actually be wearing the prom dress but bathing suit or anything that currently resides in my closet) six years ago!

I was so scared when I looked at myself for the first time in at least 6 months in the mirror at the gym earlier this week. I finally got a little motivation via a kick in the butt by our new writer to actually step foot in the gym as my new kayak isn't going to be purchased until Saturday although, the amount of shock after seeing myself in said mirror makes me wonder how I thought a kayak was going to help.

I'm still hoping that I'll come across an article about gym mirrors and the tricks of the eye that occur to make people think they just HAVE to keep spending money to workout never actually losing weight because of that trick of the eye. Oh, what am I talking about! I'm just FAT!!!

There are no two ways around it.

So, tonight, I will go back with a tank top a little less tight and hopefully get a chance to stand a little further away from the mirror and I will intently try to sculpt my lumpy body into some beautiful, Michaelangeloesque statue all while trying not to imagine stuffing my face with a slice of delicious cheesecake or some other luverly dessert.

And it's so sad how easy other things are to lose:
money- my checking account is dying a slow, slow death.
food- that goes real easily.
clothes- in the sense that they were once in a shop and now they've gone and made their way into my closet.

Yet, somehow my love handles continue to grow by epic proportions so much so that they're almost another limb entirely. Ugh.

Motivate me!

Gus and I had a great morning swimming with friends yesterday. The parks are the only places where dogs can be at this time of the year (on leashes, but what the hell is he going to do to someone in the water???).

My friend and I finally found the perfect spot for Gus and his friend Humper, I mean Cosmo. We love hanging out with Cosmo but Gus still hasn't really caught on to the concept that Cosmo is not supposed to hump him ALL THE TIME! Gus finally started being brave and growling and nipping at his neck. Cosmo sort of got the clue but did embarrass us a few times when we were in public and not paying attention.

The spot we found was off the rocks next to a small beach. We liked the rocky bit better because there was actually more sand and Gus swam and swam and swam to his heart's content. He loved being in the water!

Despite barracuda warnings from friends we weren't bitten and thankfully didn't see any, just a few cow pollies, which I can handle as I'm not a huge fan of fish (as NTF can attest- I like to eat them but I don't like when they sneak up behind me and bite my ankles).

We stopped at a restaurant and sat out on the porch where the dogs were actually allowed, which was surprising but nice in this dog fearing country! Gus was too tired to beg so other than Humper doing a little humping at the table we had no doggy mishaps. Now I just have to figure out how I can persuade the Government to open up a doggy park/beach for extra fun in the sun- for Gus at least!

Silence is so inviting after listening to a generator for 10 hours. In bed last night, I tried to lay as still as possible, changing positions so my head was right against the window screen in hopes that July's sweet, gentle breeze would replace the hum of my airconditioning. The sound of tree frogs- the Island's soundtrack- replaced the generator.

Thankfully, I slept better than I had anticipated. Not like how I slept during Hurricane Fabian in 2003- in and out of sleep, waking up in fits and a sweaty heap from the hot, oppressing September nights. After a week without electricity we quickly bought a generator- prepared for the next one. We were prepared this time for no electricity

My mom woke me up at 6.30 a.m. on Thursday. She'd been up since just after 3 when the electricity went out and her airconditioner stopped (we're clearly very reliant on these cold makers). Her first instinct was to look out the window as the power station, Belco, is right outside her window, across the road. A cloud of smoke covered the early morning sky and sirens started to blare about that point. She never went back to sleep.

When she woke me up I was obviously confused. I had just set my alarm clock the night before, after unplugging it to use it for a shoot at work that day.
"The electricity out Islandwide."
"Belco's on fire," she said.

She'd been waiting all morning to wake me up and drag me out of bed. I'm surprise the gossip queen didn't bound in my room the instant something happened. She was confused too.

Confused, I stumbled to her window thinking I was still in a dream. But there, right outside our house was a huge cloud of black smoke drifting over houses and away from our home. I could still smell the smoke, though, it was stifling and it made me cough. I just hoped no one had been hurt.

Here's what happened- the technical part!

Power made it back on to most of the Island last night and even though we weren't part of the mix (being the next door neighbour of the power company doesn't mean you get your electricity right away) we had our generator and I had the cool breeze and water, which tends to be my biggest concern. I hate when I get hot and sticky from lack of coolness and all I can get is a whore bath- the worst!!!

Unfortunately, the city was hit the worst. Some shops and several companies- those lucky and big enough to have generators- are back on today. But other places, the small shops, that will come out of the end of this disaster hurt the worse haven't faired so well.

This was a freak accident. Something completely unexpected but it is also the beginning of hurricane season and few people were prepared. Many people scrambled to the gas stations where Police had to direct traffic and at the grocery stores others stocked their baskets with water. Maybe this was a little warning to remind residents that they better kick their butts into gear and get themselves together.

This article on a local website pissed me off more than I should have let it. Read below and I will rant- or at least discuss without spitting on people:

There's an epidemic in Bermuda and around the world right now that I must address. It infects the young and the old and if you are affected you should know that I hate you. I'm glad I found this out at the beginning of the article
I'm talking, of course, about the plague of these ridiculous plastic wristbands that adorn the wrists of far too many people. What is the attraction? Why are these silly things popular? Has everyone lost their mind?
We're talking about a crappy piece of colored plastic stamped with some contrived icon or word, which people shell out $2 for so they can feel like they have done something philanthropic. Should I stop putting my loose change into buckets to get "silly" stickers now too?
I blame Lance Armstrong. This all started when he decided to celebrate his missing testicle by stamping his ridiculous charity name on one of these plastic monstrosities. Wow. That's a little below the belt in so many ways. Do I detect a small hint of jealousy because you don't have ANY balls? LiveStrong? Are you kidding me? Is there any name more self serving and self promoting? Why not call it "Lance Armstrong is freakin' amazing for surviving cancer?" I think LiveStrong has a nice ring to it for people WHO ARE DYING OF CANCER, you prick
Don't even get me started that Armstrong felt the only way to help cancer research was this self serving marketing ploy. There's a ton of great research organizations that could use not only the funds, but also the publicity that would have come with Lance Armstrong's endorsement. Have you only just noticed that philanthropic organisations are constantly marketing themselves? How else would they make money? I resort back to the buckets that I should hope you're dumping at least some of your loose change into??? This is called marketing. Instead he makes up a charity in honor of "lefty" and names it after himself. Congrats to Lance. He's an evolutionary miracle and a freak of nature. If his wins at the Tour de France weren't evidence enough, surviving cancer surely was. This comment is such a low blow for all the people the world over who have survived cancer. Clearly, this guy has no conscience. Make fun of the stupid plastic bracelets but lay off the cancer survivors for Christ's sake! Unfortunately most people aren't so lucky to be as genetically gifted as he is. But I digress.
My question is why are people buying and wearing these things? I hear people say they buy these rings of stink because, "All the proceeds go to cancer research!" Here's the thing about the proceeds. Are the bands being manufactured for free? Are they being shipped for free? Is the advertising free? The answer to all of those questions is NO. Ok, let's just take this little scenario and assume that "these rings of stink" probably cost all of about 2 cents to make. Again, I resort back to those sweet Salvation Army ladies and their buckets. Who made the stickers? The nice sticker fairy? No sweetheart, your philanthropic proceeds! Duh! People are making money off of these things and what do you get? You get to look like a 5 year old as you wear an elastic band around your sweaty wrist. The proceeds on these things are infinitesimal compared to the amounts of money being made on them. Ok, I'll admit I'm not an economics major or proclaim to know anything about math but I would say that the $1 that's going to charity (you can always give more if your big heart be so generous) is more profit than the bracelets original cost? Ahhh...I'll shutup, what do I know, I'm just a writer. So that reason is out the window.
Maybe they buy them because of how fashionable they look? Forget Tiffany or Cartier, I want a piece of jewelry that looks like it was made by Fisher Price. Or maybe you're going for the, "I forgot to take off my entry bracelet from the club last night," look. Better yet, you too can look like you were just released from the hospital.This fad has officially jumped the shark. Time to let it die. Release your wrists from their plastic prison and feel free for having done it. Or continue to wear the bracelets and your pink ribbon for breast cancer and your red ribbon for AIDS research and the dozen sitckers you've probably accumulated (or possibly thrown away) and continue to support charities. Regardless of whether Lance Armstrong is the poster boy for his charity or the red cross is the symbol for the Red Cross this is how marketing is done. Even for charities If you want to give money to charity, that's great. There are a ton of organizations that you can donate to who would appreciate the assistance and won't even make you wear any gaudy adornments. Or as most of them like to do and slap that sticker right on your boob So to sum it up; Cancer is bad. Wow, this guy is a freaking genuis! It took me all this time to figure that out! Donating is good. Yellow silicone is bad. Lance Armstrong is a superhuman and an egregious self promoter. And finally, if you are still wearing one of these wristbands, I hate you.

I think this guy, whose pseudonym is Che Guevara, by the way (my co-worker put it nicely: that revolutionary is probably rolling over in his grave.), has an issue with the bracelets, which is fair, but I think it's completely unfair to use his position in the media to openly mock someone who, not only survived cancer but also is probably an inspiration to many people, who lived, survived or died with cancer. One of those people, namely being my grandfather, who died 2 years ago of cancer, wanted so desperately to read Lance Armstrong's autobiography but was too sick and never got the chance. I always wish I could have been there to read it to him.

I dunno...I'm really bored.

Ever since I've gotten back from Argentina I've had lots to say (wow, like that's a shocker, Islandgirl) but just nothing interesting to write on my blog. Hence, the boring I don't have anything better to write post.

It's finally raining out and it's like the good tank rain so I can shower with peace of mind that the water won't sputter off on me while I have soap in my eyes and I can actually flush after two wees instead of five (ewwwww...that was a great TMI).

Oh! This is a great segue into a history lesson about the Island of Comeoniwanalayya (new name provided by Jackie at 86 Tips):

Back in the day some really smart Comeoniwanalayyians decided that a good system of catching and storing water would be to keep it in a tank under each house on the Island.

They painted all the roofs white and (this is the part that gets a little confusing for me) somehow miraculously realised that limestone is like a filter for acid and some other bad stuff found in rain water. And there was tons of limestone on the Island because that's what the Island has a lot of.

So, anyway, with limestone roofs painted white and clean they could catch water and let it drain down into their tanks (back in the day a lot of people built their tanks off the side of their house, I think, I've just seen some really old houses with tanks on the side like little side buildings so one, without a thorough knowledge of the history of her Island, would assume that was the case back then). To this day, all of the houses have beautiful, white roofs (sometimes people let them get really dirty and I really hope for those families that they drink bottled water 'cause that's just gross).

And one may wonder how I could think that it's not gross just drinking the water that's caught off your roof whether the roof is sparkly white or not. What with bird droppings and insects getting caught all up in the water and stuff, ok, that is kinda gross, but I'm lucky enough to have a filter on my water and regardless all that stuff is good protein.

But during the summer when there isn't a lot of rain, like this one, for example, which has been one of the longest droughts we've had in many, many years, people run out of water in their tank and have to get really short showers and it's just an all around bummer.

But before someone shoots me for being so clearly inept in the workings of my Island I will finish this post NOW and provide you with a picture. Always speaks louder, huh? (notice how dirty THIS roof is!)


Lumika.org

I want a kayak.

This one because notice how (no, not the little girl doing ballet on the bow) you can also hold a dog on that kayak???

This is not the only reason I want this kayak in aqua thankyouverymuch. But being able to row around Hamilton Harbour with Gus in tow would totally motivate me to get my fat ass out of the office and doing something more active.

Yesterday, NTF's friend, who is one of the instructors for our Outward Bound programme, took us friends out to the island where he spends most of his time so we could utilise his job by using the kayaks, the beach, the b-b-q, the boats and what does the girl with the minor OCD complex have to do? Fall in love with kayaking, of course.

So, for the moment I'll be obsessively discussing my kayaking options:
1. Yellow will totally make me look like I'm paddling in a banana.
2. Will it look OK if Gus has a red life jacket or will it clash with the aqua kayak?
3. Do you think the guy on the Island selling this kayak secondhand will think I'm crazy if I call him and ask him what colour his kayak is? RE: option one. It just can't be yellow.

Ya know, the important things.

And for at least a week I'll be scouring the classifieds while also trying to figure out where I can best launch the boat (somewhere close so I always have the option of taking my new paddling companion).

As soon as I get one I'll make sure to post a picture of Gus in his new lifejacket and matching goggles.

(My dad thinks he'll jump off and start swimming away. I can't see why?)