8 is Great! I like to Anniversiate!

Happy Eighth Anniversary Rodney!

Yes, that right folks! Today is the Eighth Anniversary of our very first, honest-to-goodness, completely legitimate date! :) My, my, I'm not sure what's more surprising...that we've last this long together, or that Rod's lived this long. *lol*

But truly, I've been grateful for each and every one of the days since that fateful Tuesday night on October 27, 1998, and even though we've run into a few uphill battles since then, I've never doubted for a moment that Rod and I belong together. Long before we started dating, and while I was still dating someone else long distance, people on Main Henday remarked about the "chemistry" or "electricity" between us, and it's true...I felt it there, and I know he felt it too, even if he couldn't exactly identify the feeling.

I love you Rodney

******

In other news...

I finished my assignment for the Seniors' care facility, and I was unemployed for a whole day! Then I took an assignment that has proven to be very interesting. I cannot get into any details really, other than to say I'm mostly doing transcribing work. I can't say where, what kind of place it is, nothing that would potentially undermine the Confidentiality of those involved. Sound mysterious? Well, it's not The X-files.

And finally, after my last post, Gail just had to inquire about the origins of my name, Fancy, and I told her I would answer her in my next post...

The truth is, I don't know. For about 1 or 2 days, I was Audrey Bawtinhimer (my mother's surname at the time, a leftover from her first marriage, back in the days before divorced women legally reverted back to their Maiden names). No kidding. Then, propelled by reasons still unknown to anyone except the culprit himself, my Daddy came to the hospital, and told my Mummy that they were naming me Fancy. My Mummy, caught off-guard, looked at dear old Daddy and questioned him about this. Daddy, ever the puzzle, calmly replied that they were naming me Fancy, or he was going to walk out of the hospital room. Thus, history was made.

To this day, we still have no idea where the name came from. No one except Daddy knows, and he ain't talking. Go figure :)

Some Fancy Writings

No, I won't torture you all with my own writings, though if I may so say, they are most impressive in their maturity, and unpretentious in the quality of storytelling (...if I were 11!).

No, this is a post devoted solely to the rejects of literature not proudly displayed on my fledgling webpage. There are some truly interesting, highly literate, and completely original statements in the English language employing the word 'fancy.' And I chose a few that I really liked in one way or another, but ended up settling on a last sub-sentence from William Hazlitt:

Humour is the describing the ludicrous as it is in itself; wit is the exposing it, by comparing or contrasting it with something else. Humour is, as it were, the growth of nature and accident; wit is the product of art and fancy.

That, from his work, “On Wit and Humour,” Lectures on the English Comic Writers (1819). I couldn't resist it's charm, and narcissistically adopted it for myself, because I believe that when I'm struck, I can be particularly witty (but not today, mind you). Anything involving the word fancy can only inspire narcissism in me, which everyone knows I'm very capable of, because of my unique moniker. True, I go out of my way often to be quite plain, but I'm also notoriously vain, which means anything related to my unique name strokes my ferocious ego.

But enough about me, persay. On to the rejects, some of which were really good in their own ways!

"It is new fancy rather than taste which produces so many new fashions."

-François-Marie Arouet Voltaire, Philosophical Dictionary, 1764

I consider myself lucky that I am a little out of my mind and can escape some trends and set my own instead. I also consider myself lucky that many of my trends don't catch on with others.

Ever let the Fancy roam!

Pleasure never is at home:

-John Keats (1795–1821), British poet.

All due respect to my home and my life, but I am a traveller. While physically I am confined to my present location, in my mind, in my books, in my incessant learning, I am travelling to new and fascinating places that offer what a quiet life at home cannot.

All charming people, I fancy, are spoiled. It is the secret of their attraction.

-Oscar Wilde (1854–1900), Anglo-Irish playwright, author.

All charming people, (I, FANCY) are spoiled...as if this really needs further explanation to those who can say they know me (and still love me).

She ’s all my fancy painted her;

She ’s lovely, she ’s divine.

-William Mee: Alice Gray.

I'm Rod's Fancy, lovely and divine! *wink*

All impediments in fancy’s course

Are motives of more fancy.

-All ’s Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.

William Shakespeare

This quote was a very close second in my final decision, because as it relates to the noun, Fancy, I am incredibly stubborn and determined to overcome obstacles large and small when I really want something. This is also a trait known to my friends.

Aggressive Fancy working spellsUpon a mind o’erwrought.
Thomas Hardy, (1840–1928)The Dynasts. Act i. Sc. 6. Napoleon

Rod loves this quote, painting me in a wicked light, and trying to deflate my hyperinflated ego, but I like the quote because it acknowledges the power I hold over an overwrought mind. Like Rod's.

A moonlight traveler in Fancy’s land.

Madison Julius Cawein (1865– ?)

Okay folks, if I ever decide to move into the *ahem* high class entertainment field, there is no doubt whatsoever that this delicate quote will be printed on my very special calling cards. It's incredibly corny and suited best to some gruesomely terrible bodice-ripper, and I love it because it would be a private joke, considering what I think of those trashy romances.

O Life! how pleasant is thy morning,

Young Fancy’s rays the hills adorning!

Robert Burns (1759–1796)

Yes, this man is a true visionary, prognosticating on the glory of my life as the centre of the universe! True, gifted poet! So graciously painting the picture of my magnanimous role in Life!

Vanity Run Amok Indeed!

Change is a many splendid thing

This is just a quick update to the ongoing Web Page Updates drama:

• There are Links! It's not a pretty presentation, but they are up, and that's all that matters after tonight's wrangling.
• It's a new(ish) look! Fall is in people!
• Poor Grammar and bad editting have been eradicated (as much as I found when I bothered to look anyway)
• Call the cops, some things have gone missing! Nah! It's bye bye bad free counter link! As if I want to advertise other people's crappy stuff on MY page. Family History? Pffft...that would take a GIGABYTE or two to explain. The Life story? Well, it's not a presentable story really, so it got a makeover into a yet to be developed 'Fact or Fancy' page

As for the Poetry...still slogging my way through that one folks, and since I've got other things cooking in the pressure cooker at the moment, the poems have been moved to the simmering backburner.

Naturally there will be a few minor modifications to the new layout, etc. over the next little while as I fine tune the aesthetics and new possible grammar and spelling errors, but more or less, what you see is what you get :)

Blogiversary Two

What a difference a year makes! A new city in a new province, basically a new lifestyle, and a new reason for asking myself, "Now What?"

Last year I was dealing with some heavy shit in many respects: family problems were unusually more dramatic, my job was proving to be unsatisfying and lacking in challenge, and worst of all for me, somewhere along the way, my consciousness was lost in a tailspin from which there was no recovery. Normally I am built to handle a great deal of adversity, but since I was not myself when all this was going on, it was all so hard to handle. I was lost, sort of locked away deep inside of myself, silently watching while I tried to deal with everything, and not doing a good job because I wasn't familiar with the manner in which I was responding.

This year is much improved. On the family front, things have been relatively quiet; a few dust-ups, but nothing to make me despair. The work situation has taken a turn for the worse, but I'm managing to deal with it because if all works out for the best, I will be starting a diploma in Social Policy Issues at SFU in January. Either way, by January, I will be somewhere different, and I can safely say that the job has been a learning experience. And as you may have read earlier last month, I am on the road to recovering the wit and humour I once possessed in abundance, and my passion for observation is once again rekindled. I recognize myself these days.

Last year, I was hopeful that things would improve. From a low point, I wrote, "I guess I've taken my knocks for the year, and it hasn't been all high drama, but I'm certainly hoping that the next year of this blog reads a little bit happier than the last." This past year was a bit of a wild ride, but it was more in the sense of an exciting new adventure, rather than seeming to be fraught with disaster.

I wasn't going for some witty, esoterically high-brow turn of phrase in my profile when I described myself as a work in progress. Just look at the progression of the meaning of the question Now What from year to year. Two years ago tonight, at a loss for words, and yet bursting with too many of them, I feebly explained that the question was one I tried to avoid answering. One year ago, in the midst of a personal crisis, the question was simaltaneously exasperating and hopeful, as I tried to deal with so many, well, bummers at once. This year, I think it's a question asked enthusiastically, and I can't wait to ask it again and again after something else is conquered.

So.

Now What?

Run for the Cure Day

This is just a very quick shout out to my friend Heidi, who is taking part in the Run for the Cure in Edmonton today. Next year I'll go out for it myself. It's time for it to happen.

Around the time of my birth, my beloved Grandmother, Christine, had a total mastectomy, which for years, I was unaware of. And again only 22 years later, she had another to remove the other breast shortly before her death. She had no biological daughters that lived beyond infancy, and the irony is that in the massive Poitras roll call of grandchildren, there is actually only a small handful of her biological female offspring, who are all relatively young (myself included) . Off the top of my head, I can think of four of us. We can only wait and see.

In my case, I'm unnerved by the fact that I already have very fiberous breast tissue, which makes detecting a lump with self-breast examinations difficult. A doctor may be trained to know the difference between my regular dense breast tissue and a lump, but I'm not, and to be on the safe side, once I'm 30, I will start insisting on yearly mammograms.

Happy Run for the Cure Day!