Reading List

My new job requires a 30-minute bus ride every morning and every evening. During my first few weeks of work, I usually spent at least the bus ride home getting carsick, as I have done on buses for years. However, after consistently riding almost every day and learning at which stop I was most likely to get a seat at the front, I've been able to get to the point where I can read on the bus. This is great, because for the last several years, I've been so busy with school that my reading has dropped off a little (although not enough to stop me from devouring Stephanie Meyer's Host in the 24 hours before my Economics of Taxation final – don't worry, I still passed).

The past two months, I've read over 14 books (not quite back up to my high school level yet)

from such a scattered assortment of genres, the list looks like it was created by a butterfly with ADD. It's just reinforced what I told people years ago in high school: if it's got pages between two covers, I'll probably read it. Here's some of my favourites for those of you who are looking for a good summer read:

The Host, by Stephanie Meyer

The Host tells the story of the world after an alien invasion. These aliens are a completely peaceful race and have implanted themselves in our brains to prevent violence, war, and anything else nasty. The main character, Wanderer, has arrived on earth after the aliens' dominance is mostly complete, but is implanted in the brain of on of the last human survivors, a girl named Melanie. Melanie is strong-willed enough that she remains present even after the insertion and Wanderer begins to feel some sympathy for the human race and the remaining survivors. They go off on an epic adventure to find the rest of Melanie's family, who are still on the run. Yes, I know it's the same woman who wrote Twilight. I know that amongst my acquaintance, Twilight has gotten extremely mixed reviews. Let's just say that I do enjoy Twilight, but I'm under no impression that it's a work of fine literature. The Host, on the other hand, is much better written than Twilight. The drama that pervaded Twilight is still there, but feels less hokey and more believable. Even though I was reading it for the second time, I couldn't put it down.

Frederica, by Georgette Heyer

My sister Jaima got me into Georgette Heyer books after I got home from my mission, and I've been reading them whenever I can find them from the library since. Heyer started writing in the 1920s and most of her books take place in the Regency era, the same time as all the Jane Austen books. Frederica is my favourite so far. It tells the story of a girl in her mid-twenties, Frederica, who is left in charge of her family when her father dies. Determined that her younger sister will not waste her beauty on their insignificant country circle, she takes her siblings to London to attempt an advantageous marriage for her sister, who although beautiful, is rather stupid. She prevails upon their distant relative, the wealthy Marquis of Alverstroke, to sponsor them in society, which he does, mostly to spite his other scheming relatives. Adventure piles on adventure as the Marquis finds himself increasingly involved in the exploits of all members of the young family as they caper through Regency area London. As with all Georgette Heyer stories, the wit is plentiful, the characters sparkling, and happy endings abound for all.

The Firm, by John Grisham

I first read The Firm is high school, and for the following few months, took out every Grisham novel I could find at the library. Grisham has the ability to keep his readers glued to the page, throwing twists and turns and describing everything in compelling detail. The Firm is one of his earlier novels, from 1991, and has all the appeal of his very early stories without the dated feel that I've gotten occasionally from some of the very first. It tells the story of Mitch McDeere, a young Harvard Law graduate who gets an incredible job offer from a small sized firm in Memphis. They offer to pay off his student loan, arrange a mortgage, lease him a car, and pay him much more than any other offer he's received. It's only after a few months there that Mitch realizes that the offer too good to be true came from a firm that is really not what it appears to be, when he is approached by the FBI to assist them in an investigation of the firm and its number-one client. Caught in the crossfire and blackmailed from both sides, Mitch has to keep on step ahead of spies, goons, federal investigators, and lawyers to do the right thing and save his family.

Happy reading, and if you have any suggestions for my next book, let me know!

I love my job, I promise!

I should probably clarify from my earlier post... I've had a few people ask me about my job with looks of sympathy, apparently under the impression that I trudge off to work every day with a heavy heart and tearful eyes. I actually really love my job. Sure, I have the odd day every now and then when I'm bored, and getting used to a new schedule always has its blips. But in case you interpreted my earlier post to mean that I was dissatisfied with my job and life in general, I promise that I'm happy. Especially with my job.

We actually had an offsite meeting on Wednesday this week, where our department booked meeting rooms and a gym at the Talisman Centre. We got fed a custom-ordered lunch from Jugo Juice, had two hours of presentations from our VP and directors, and then we were let loose to play basketball or badminton. They had even booked a yoga studio and hired a yoga teacher for those who weren't into getting body-checked under the hoop by their supervisors.

I was invited to join our group's basketball team, the Market Operations Hawks. Or, as we liked to call ourselves, the MOHawks. Despite an ill-fated attempt by the Market Design Dream Team, or M-DDT (apparently the only thing they could think of that would kill hawks was DDT – I know, how nerdy can you get?) the MOHawks were triumphant in the end, thanks to our lovely cheerleader, a co-worker who grew up in Ireland and didn't even know the rules of basketball, having never played sports at her convent school.

There are so many reason why I love my job.

The Racy Chart

At work, a few members of my team are working on a system that outlines our project planning process. It outlines the different required tasks along the way and tells you who is responsible and accountable for each task, and who should be consulted and informed each step of the way. What can I say, I work for a large company with a very complicated approval process, but we do it to keep YOUR lights on.

On one of my first days, we had a team meeting where everyone gave updates on their projects. I was still adjusting to my new work schedule and, as usual, was drifting off in a meeting. Suddenly, I started awake when I heard a co-worker say, "... and the racy chart is coming along fairly well."

First, I should clarify that I work in an environment of very lovely, but fairly average people. Most are somewhat middle-aged with families and we don't work in the sexiest industry. Most of my days consist of separating authoritative and informational content in procedural documents that outline the Alberta transmission line system or trying to determine a satisfactory definition of the term "acceptable operational reason". Not the most glamorous job in the world, but I like it.

Now imagine my surprise when my colleagues start talking about some racy chart. I started wondering what I had gotten myself into.

Fast-forward through about three minutes of bewilderment. Apparently we have a RACI chart (Responsible, Accountable, Consulted, and Informed individuals), not a racy chart.

At first a relief, in retrospect, maybe a bit of a letdown. It would have really spiced up my workday.

How do you know when you've arrived?

I've always thought that the epitome of being a responsible adult was having a security pass to a building that was attached to the waistband of your pants via a yo-yo cord, a health and dental plan, and my very own workspace. My sister Elena has always thought it meant having real business cards that you can hand discreetly to people, like they do on TV. I guess that although I've had some jobs that definitely had their perks (like the practically free clothes when I worked at The Gap and getting paid to take kids to the library as a nanny) and others that met some of my grown-up requirements (being a receptionist for Dad meant my own desk, while my internship last summer gave me a snazzy key card complete with yo-yo cord), I never had the full package, until now.

In late January, I got a call from my previous boss from last summer. I was hoping to hear great news about them having a full-time position available for me, but unfortunately that didn't pan out. However, she did have good news. Through some industry networking, she had passed on my information to the Market Services Division at the Alberta Electric System Operator (AESO), and from what she had told them about my summer internship with her, they were interested.

Over the past few months, I've had lots of opportunities like this come up. It seems like all over the place, people have leads for me on the job front. I've even had an interview come from them. But until recently, none of them came to fruition. I went to two interviews at the AESO and from what I heard about the position, it seemed like my dream job. I tried to stop myself from getting too excited about it, but it was in vain. I remembered my previous disappointments and prayed that this one, finally, would work out. Not only would it allow me to support Benjamin through school and pay off my student loans, it was a great job in the industry I loved. I got the call from HR at the AESO just a week before my wedding and started as soon as I got home from my honeymoon.

It's been an interesting challenge to catch up and try to learn everything that I need to know to function in this position, and I've gotten frustrated once or twice as I struggle to understand what exactly VArs standards are. Whenever I need a little pick-me-up, I look down at my security pass and for some reason it's so exciting to think that I'm a grown-up now! Friday morning I was having a particularly boring morning as I ploughed through technical and regulatory documents, trying to get some context for the work I'm going to be responsible for, and even my key card couldn't stop me from feeling like I was going crazy. Just then, I got an email from reception, telling me that my business cards had arrived. I went down right away to pick them up, and as I looked them over, I thought to myself, "That's right, you're Janine, Market Rules and Policy Analyst. Not just a student anymore!" And I knew I had arrived.

Get me to the Temple on time...

Elena and I had a fun time singing that song from My Fair Lady in the car on the way down to Cardston. I had always looked forward to my wedding (I've got a box of wedding magazines that I've been collecting since I was maybe 13, that has now been passed on to Elena) and it was everything I could have wanted. The best part about it was of course my wonderful husband, Benjamin, and our temple sealing, but so many other parts of the day were incredibly special. Like taking pictures with all my sisters and making sure we caught Peter and I doing oursignature kung fu pose. Like coming out of the temple and seeing my best friend Aurora. Like trying to round up all the ibbi (most of whom were either waaay too tired or else sick) for a few shots. Like walking into the chapel in Leavitt and seeing how gorgeous all those paper lanterns looked, and watching Ben's cousins attack the candy bar. Like dancing with my prince to the Sleeping Beauty waltz and then groovign with Daddy to Frank Sinatra's Swingin' on a Star, and seeing tons of other parent-child duos join in (I especially loved seeing Karen andbaby Charles on the dance floor!) I am so happy to be married to my lovey, Benjamin.

Even though these photos aren't from the wedding day, they're still lovely. Enjoy!

Battle of the BBC Series

I have been, for a very long time, a fan of BBC movies, especially those based on pre-1950s literature (I would say pre-1900 literature, but that would exclude Horatio Hornblower and early Agatha Christie, which will never do). I've seen the 5-hour version of Pride and Prejudice numerous times (and it IS five hours and not six, as everyone claims—there are six episodes of 50 minutes each), watched both old and new adaptations of Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, and my favourite, Persuasion. I had also eventually branched away from Jane Austen into the Brontë sisters, C. S. Forrester, and Elizabeth Gaskell. I loved them all, with the exception of a few of the later Horation Hornblower episodes. I will be the first to admit that I mostly enjoy the movies. The novels that I've read from the above list have tended to be somewhat dull and I can never get quite as invested in a book that leaves so much to the imagination.

Somehow, though, I had never discovered Charles Dickens. Well, I had seen Oliver! the musical and countless stage performances of A Christmas Carol, and even read a graphic novel of Great Expectations, but my exposure to Dickens was very lacking.

Last week, Elena took Little Dorrit out of the library. I had never even heard of it before, and suddenly there it was; over 450 minutes of miniseries there for the watching, most of it featuring Matthew McFadyen, which is never a bad thing. It was while watching this that I realized why Dickens has his very own adjective. The characters, settings, and plots were so very Dickensian that there was literally no other word to describe them. Every scene at the Circumlocution Office was brimming with satire and scathing judgement on the British civil service. Characters like Flintwinch skulked through narrow, crooked halls in a manner that can only be described as Dickensian, while Andy Serkis played a masterfully creepy Rigaud. In some movies, the side characters are so interesting that one loses sight of the main plot, but with incredible performances in the lead roles of Amy Dorrit and Arthur Clennam, I was riveted almost the entire 7 hours (minus a bit of a slow part in Italy towards the end of the movie). I would recommend Little Dorrit to anyone with either a weekend to kill, a series of boring evenings, or a love of BBC miniseries. I promise that once you start remembering who all the characters are, it gets really good.

The worst thing is, on every BBC production, there are previews for even more tantalizing movies. I've added several to my list, including The Way We Live Now, Bleak House, and Lorna Doone. At this rate, I don't think I'll ever be able to watch them all—every time I discover a new one, there's three more waiting.

Bless you, BBC, for your prolific miniseries making.

The Ultimate Daddy-Daughter Date

My saintly father has six children, the first five of which are girls. For many years he has lived in a female-centric home and has had his own special way of bonding with each of us. For me, I used to love it when both he and I would be excused from cleaning the kitchen after supper to do some sort of fix-it job around the house. Fixing the broken washing machine? Sounds like a job for Super-Dad with his trusty assistant, Little Neen. The highlight of my Saturdays as a little girl was getting to go on errands with Daddy to the now-defunct Beaver Lumber that used to be in the parking lot of Market Mall to pick up nails and screws. I remember being in kindergarten and walking over to my Daddy's office at the Market Mall Professional building a few blocks away from our house to take him his lunch—what's even more surprising was that I seem to remember doing it once or twice on my own . . . either Mum really trusted the traffic on 40th avenue or my memory isn't what it should be.

The best, though, were Daddy-daughter dates. These were the special occasions when Daddy and one of his daughters would have a special outing, just the two of them. This outing might consist of ice cream at Lic's, a canoe ride at Bowness Park, or once when I was really lucky, dinner and a movie. It was always fun to have special time with Daddy.

The few days when Mum and Daddy picked me up from Finland felt like a long Daddy-daughter date, as Mum's health at the time kept her resting in the hotel a fair portion of most days. Daddy and I went for a run down Neitsytpolku to the ocean, went grocery shopping in Espoo for all the Finnish delights I wanted to bring home, and visited a street market in Leppävaara. We explored the tunnels of the old fortress at Suomenlinna and met some of my friends for strawberries at the harbour market. I loved sharing a part of my mission with my Dad—he truly understood how much that place meant to me and how hard it was to leave.

Last weekend, however, was the best Daddy-daughter date of them all. Daddy had lift tickets for the resort at Revelstoke, home to some of the best powder in existence. Originally, the plan was for him, Peter, and me to go, but when Peter bailed at the last minute, the trip became a Daddy-daughter date—the last one before I get married in three weeks.

Over those two days of skiing, we discovered powder up to our knees on almost every run. It was like skiing in a marshmallow. The whole time, we kept shouting to each other that the snow was unbelievable, that this was paradise. We found heavenly little chutes filled with powder and trees spaced just right. When I found myself on a section that seemed to steep for me, Dad coached me through the turn. Even when we got separated on our last run of the day and both lost skis on a 50 degree incline and were lost for over 25 minutes, we had the most incredible time. Well, I was worried to death that he had fallen headfirst into a tree well and he had the ski patrol searching for me, but that's another story—it was all part of the adventure that made this weekend the best Daddy-daughter date ever.

But the one thing that made this ski weekend the best ever wasn't the snow or the perfect hill. It was being there with my Daddy, one last time for us to have an adventure with him while I'm still all his, still his little girl.