When I arrived at the bus shelter today, there was a grown man sitting inside with his wool cap and winter jacket and jogging pants on, smoking a Number 7. There were four or five people standing outside, froze. I went into the shelter, gestured towards the no smoking sign and said, "I don't think you're supposed to smoke in here".

He laughed. No one ever said anything. Not bothering anyone.

"Well, I'm saying something, and you're bothering me."

He rose with a little huff and went and stood just outside the door. Mission accomplished. Two women and an elderly gentleman tucked themselves inside. One of the women commented that she was glad somebody said something, because non-smokers shouldn't have to suffer in the cold because of smokers.

How terrible to be smoking in the bus shelter.

"Well, he's gone outside now." There is no longer a problem, missus. All I had to do was ask.

I raised my eyebrow at her and explained that I used to be a smoker. She confessed the same. I raised my eyebrow some more.

Outside, the man with the cigarette gave a light to another smoker before taking one last quick draw and sitting back down inside on the bench.

I tries to quit, he said. Three months one time.

"Can't be three months! Got to be forever! You'll do it when you really want to. I was addicted! Couldn't have one, I'd want a carton". All in one breath. The only way I know how to give advice.

I know, he said. That's right. Smiling and nodding.

"Don't give up!" The route 3 pulled up and I hopped on. I hope he really thinks I'm right.

Sorry, couple dozen guests whose envelopes I sealed and stamped before I changed my mind about the rsvp cards. You don't get the space-agey design, but you'll get your invitations first. Patience is not my strong suit.

Randomly, and as inspired by Andrew J. Hiscock's recent flurry of blog awesomeness:

Following a forced hiatus due to a move to the sub-suburbs, I’ve recently found myself once again blessed with the joys of walking through the downtown area. I walk the same route daily, from the Delta to Forest Road and encounter dozens of people, including fellow walkers, commuters dashing from the office doorway to their vehicle, shoppers, shop owners, tourists, parking enforcement officers, and so on. I don’t mind the black ice. I don’t mind the wind. I don’t mind the hat wearing lady in the Corolla who nearly ran me over yesterday near the Craft Council Shop (mostly because I was stupidly wearing gray at dusk and she was close to 100 years old). What I do mind, though, is the fact that nobody, not nobody says “hello”, “hi”, or even “kiss m'arse” (okay, maybe “kiss m'arse”, but you know what I mean) to passersby anymore, let alone the classic “whaddayat” so popularly embraced fter the Jake D'yle/Strombo interview earlier this week.

Now, I’ve done my share of complaining about customer service here in NL, and I’ve tried to encourage more talk about good customer service, via twitter and occasionally via my blog. But this is way more alarming than the obvious breakdown between the service industry and the public. What does this say about a place that supposedly prides itself on its warmth, its character, and the decency of its people? I know everyone’s busy, everyone has other stuff on their mind and all that, but seriously, would it kill you to acknowledge, just for a split second, the fact that another human being is occupying the same 3-foot-wide space as you? A simple smile or even a chin toss would do. Especially if that other human being already spoken to you. Please don’t leave ‘em hanging! I challenge anyone who is reading this to take a leap: meet eyes with the next person you pass on the street, instead of casting yours downward. Just see how it feels. We’re all in this together, you know.

‘Til I see you on the street,

Janet

DIY Kitchen Remodel - The Janet and Sean Method

When we moved into our house in the cove two years ago, my one reservation was about the kitchen. Painted a shade of persimmon that made my eyes hurt, making the orangey oak of the cabinets stand out even more.

I painted it lavender, thinking that the purple would tone down the cabinets and to give a nod to the ultra modern in hopes of counteracting the country feel. We also installed stainless steel appliances. While the purple is getting old and has moved into the "has to go" category, the real problem in our kitchen is the awkwardness of having framed cabinets.

Framed cabinets are used for various reasons, one being price. Narrower doors are likely less expensive. However, they limit the size and shape of items that you can store in a given space. With a wedding upcoming, a new kitchen is not in our near future. Not even new doors. Barely even new knobs.

Now, I've been thinking about removing the frames for a long time but never got around to it. Enter Sean, who just successfully completed a $10 pot rack project that turned out quite nicely and is another component under our Kitchen Improvement Initiative. The wood shelving that he used for that project was on sale, and if I didn't distract him, I was going to end up with DIY six foot long shelving above the kitchen table for people to hit their heads on.

different, messier cabinet with frame removed

cabinet with frame (in place of true before picture

"Look! We could have WAY better storage in here if we removed the cabinet frames in the pantry!"

Sean started sizing up the cupboards; immediately I could tell he was measuring in his head (a major flaw in many a design process around our place. "Yeah, that looks like 17 inches...")

His focus shifted away from the shelf dream, as planned. He got a hammer. The frame was out in 45 seconds.

After some sanding, more measuring and some wood glue (only one mishap: I measured and applied glue on the wrong side the first time...oops), we were left with two newly functional spaces. 

Just read an interesting article about which font sizes save the most ink. Turns out that Arial (which is suggested for use at work) is on the higher end of cost for printing. Luckily, I don't print much. It is good to know, though, so I don't waste all that extra ink down the road. anyway. I thought I had a lot more to say, but I don't (which always happens when I start typing).