Starting on Monday, I will be reporting to a new vice president, whose first day will in fact be Monday. I'm nervous, or as Mr. Crabby would say, "nerdvous". I get on quite well with my current boss, and I'm upset about breaking up with her and hooking up with "new guy", as everyone calls him. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Such terrifying, upsetting sorrow.

What if he thinks I'm an idiot? I come off that way sometimes, because I don't always take things very seriously (on purpose). What if he's a clock-watcher? I'm not always here at spot-on nine o'clock. What if he's a misogynist, a Conservative, a bad speller, a country-music fan, a jock?

How will I tell him that I'm taking time off to have surgery in the lady-regions? Will he get that I'm obsessively detail-oriented and that my first love is a seamless production schedule? Does he like to also unwind with an MS Project gantt chart? Will he too love the smell of cover stock varnish in the morning?

I guess we'll just wait and see. Stay tuned for the continuing saga of Crabby and the New Guy.

If it's No' Sco'ish, it's The Friday Five!

1) Irish Whiskey or Scotch? Which do you prefer?
I looooove scotch. I started enjoying scotch in my early 20s; in my late 20s, I was introduced to the good stuff by Mr. Crabby's friend. I owe a lot of rough mornings to that man. I like single malt, from the highlands, and the peatier and smokier the better.

2) Have you ever eaten haggis?
Yes, I tasted it once at a wine and food fair in Ottawa. It was horrible. My nephew and his fiancé (yes, that's right, but I'm not as old as that makes me sound) eat it all the time - by choice! Like Mike Meyers' character in So I Married an Axe Murderer, I think most Scottish food is based on a dare.

3) Any Scottish blood in your family?
My background is Welsh, but growing up I always said Scottish because nobody had ever heard of Wales. I hang out with a smarter crowd these days.

4) Bagpipes: a horrid mistake or nostalgic and endearing? Discuss.
Nostalgic and endearing, to be sure.

5) Do you own anything plaid?
Oh lordy, yes. I have plaid underwear, plaid clothing, plaid blankets, plaid napkins, plaid tablecloth, and even a sweet little plaid train case that subs for a purse/briefcase in the autumn.

Put Your Hands in the Air Like You Don't Care: One Bitchin' Lapsed Catholic
...but just don't clap them. Earlier this week, the Vatican drafted a document listing various liturgical abuses, such as dancing in the aisles, clapping, and (horrors), from having altar girls at mass. Yes, liturgical abuses! The draft document directs that "priests should never feel obliged to seek girls for this function". Well this really yanks my rosary. I was once a little Catholic girl who served on the altar, and attended a church that did in fact celebrate with liturgical dance. And damn us all, we even clapped at weddings. What a shame that like smoking, eating, and promiscuity, celebrating one's faith is now frowned upon. And the Catholic Church specializes in shame. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

Bugger that for a bunch of bananas. I'm tempted to find me a church at lunch time, barge in, dance, clap, maybe sing a little, administer communion, then leave. Watch for the headlines... "Mad Catholic Struck Dead in Street".

Respite
Today I found a farmers' market
Today I wore my favourite suit
Today my books arrived
Today I was Mary Richards
Today my wind was warm
Today I was a million bucks
Today I bought earrings
Today the price was right
Today she was pleasant
Today the kitty did not barf
Today Radmila made me laugh
Today dinner will be ready
Today I will have some wine.

What To Do

What to Rent: Door to Door. It won three Emmy's last night, deservedly so. Really, I just wanted to use the word "deservedly" in a sentence. It's so musical.
What to Stop: Watching awards shows. There's three hours I'll never get back, but I can't help myself. I watch them all, year after year. I even make a nicer-than-usual dinner when awards shows are on, to partake in the festivities. Somebody help me.
What to Eat: Risotto, stuffed peppers, baked apples, bbq pork chops, pizza, but not all at once.
What to Drink: Pinot Noir, but not on weekdays, unless it's been a very good or a very bad day. Somebody help me.
What to Feel Guilty About: Laughing at my spazz-cat when she fell, again, off the counter. Not cleaning my nasty kitchen floor. Letting another weekend pass without removing any wallpaper. Wearing jeans to work last Friday.
What to Feel Good About: Tomorrow evening at Icy's (excuse to drink Pinot Noir). Spending the whole day on the couch reading yesterday. An evening to myself tonight.
What to Read: Maeve Binchy. It's easy to consume 700 pages in a day when you have a cat on your belly for nine hours.
What to Do: Write a thank-you note to the owner of the Italian market who gave me a pot of her vegetable stock yesterday, for being a "good customer". Can you believe that? These are the people in my neighbourhood...
What to Celebrate: The end of construction, at least in my neighbourhood! No more shuttle busses! In the middle of the night, I heard a streetcar rattle past our house - the first one since late March. "Ahhhhh, that's the stuff," I thought to myself.