Dear Universe, Love Robynn

The Safeway Soviet Socialist Republic

2012-01-19T14:46:00.001-08:00

Why can't all trips to the grocery store be this amazing?

I just fixed my woolen military coat because moving to Vancouver from Edmonton has turned me into a weak little whimpering pansy when it comes to the cold (it's a whopping -3 right now) and I can't handle it without 15 layers. I head off, newly repaired coat on body, gigantic furry hat on head.

Checkout Guy: "Wow. You've got this whole Russian aristocracy thing going on. You royalty or something?"

Me: "Well, technically I *am* a Baroness, not that it counts for anything in THIS country."

Checkout Guy: <checks out all my groceries, I pay> "Thank you very much..." <looks at airmiles card> "...Baroness Romanov. It's been a pleasure to serve you." <salutes>

Old lady behind me: <baffled>

Love it. This is why I should have a camera crew that arbitrarily follows me around.

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn ilashchuk

On 2012, &c.

2011-12-31T18:37:00.001-08:00

Been a long time since I've posted; been a long time since I cared to post. I'm not going to go into a phenomenal amount of detail here, because anyone who needs to know my sordid bits already does, and nobody needs to hear me complain as I'm sure you've all got your own gripes.

Summing it up, 2011 was one craptacular year. From a failed marriage to failed health, it's been mostly a junkfest all around. There were some highlights, however:

A fabulous trip to Vegas with my awesome BFF Dan, even though I had the demon flu the entire time we were there.
Making some new friends and getting closer to some old ones.
Not having to wear spectacles anymore, even though the recovery was something I wouldn't wish on my dearest enemy.
Plenty of Mexican food.
A nice long visit with my Mom and Dad in November, even though it was on wonky circumstances and we had to sit in the dark the entire time due to my healing eyeballs.
Cabin rave with Dutchie et al.
A trip back to Edmonton at the changing point of my life and having my sweetest and best friends around me to give me strength.

The rest of it, however, was by and large a load of horse puckey.

Not to worry, though - I've got big hopes for what 2012 may bring. Frankly, anything at this stage is going to kick the spleen out of 2011.

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn ilashchuk

Very Wise Was She

2011-10-27T01:54:00.001-07:00

There was a girl - a very strange, enchanted girl
They say she wandered very far, very far, over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye, but very wise was she
And then one day, a magic day she came my way
And while we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this she said to me:

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn holmström

The Soundtrack of my Life.... Lately

2011-10-17T01:05:00.001-07:00

I've been a horrible absentee Baroness for a while. Apologies.

It all started here:

And then this happened:

Cut to end scene:

And drive the nail in the coffin home:

And until whenever things are right again, I'm going to wish and pray for one more precious, sweet moment of this:

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Like sands through the hourglass....

2011-09-06T11:50:00.001-07:00

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Albert's path is a strange and difficult one.

2011-08-25T10:20:00.001-07:00

Day three of my David Lynch kick. Albert Rosenfield and I are one and the same. If you know me well, you'll see it.

The foundation of such a method is love.

Love,
Robynn

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'You're my man, Pete."

2011-08-24T10:04:00.001-07:00

Sorry, kids. On a David Lynch kick. Bear with me.

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And I'll see you in the branches that blow...

2011-08-23T15:31:00.001-07:00

I had a demented morning. Actually, it's been a bit of a weird week so far and it's only Tuesday.

I'm not feeling remarkably well, and haven't been since Saturday night - my suspicion is that I ate something that didn't agree with me. In any case, food and I have been at distinct odds with one another for the past few days, and it's caused low energy, poor sleep, and a variety of screwed up dreams whenever I *do* get to sleep.

The screwed-up-edness has started working its way into my waking life as well. Case in point, this morning.

I woke up, did all my regular morning-stuffs, and was on my way out the door, headphones around neck, when I noticed that my mascara was sitting on the counter. I'm obsessive-compulsive, and that's not where it belongs. It was also open. Very atypical. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that I'd only done one eye and looked like a ginger version of Alex from A Clockwork Orange on Casual Friday. I went into the bathroom to fix myself, and had just finished up and was doing a quick once-over in the mirror to make sure there wasn't anything else crucial I'd forgotten (like pants) when my iPod decided to turn itself on without me knowing. To this:

As one of the world's foremost Twin Peaks fans, it extra-weirded me out.

Logic: "You woke up groggy from taking Gravol last night, and you're a little discombobulated this morning. Stop being a freakin' weirdo and get thee to work."

Y'AAARGH. BELOW BE SPOILERS.

My Brain: "OMFG. I'm Bob. Crap. Ohcrapohcrapohcrap. How am I ever going to explain THIS one?"

And now back to your regularly scheduled program.

Love,
Robynn

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Stuck in Head.

2011-08-22T18:19:00.001-07:00

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Seal + Girl = Love

2011-08-19T15:44:00.001-07:00

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In Other News, I'm Actually a Big Jerk

2011-06-02T16:30:00.001-07:00

So as it happens, I jumped the gun and was a little hasty in my trademark Robynn™ response to the email of yesterday and am a total asshole. Sometimes it helps if you read the second paragraph of things, or so it would seem.

Of course nobody would want robynnholmstrom.com, unless they were crazy. Or infatuated with me for some reason. Or chemically imbalanced. Or something. Maybe just because it's Thursday. We don't know.

As it turns out, "Sandy" just wanted to exchange links. My bad. I'll read closer next time.

As an olive branch, here's some stuff about go karts. (I still do, however, harbour all of my resentment toward them. Being accident prone, close to the ground, and on wheels has distinct disadvantages.)

Love,
Robynn

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Um, No.

2011-05-31T18:36:00.001-07:00

Why in the hell would someone besides the one and only Robynn Holmström want www.robynnholmstrom.com?

It will remain one of life's great mysteries. I didn't hit send on the email because it's probably phishin' for something and let's face it - I'm not stupid. And hey, if it's for real, I guess "Sandy" can read my reply on the domain she so desperately wants.

Hope you have some good bags, Sandy. 5 million in bullion weighs a lot.

Love,

Robynn

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn holmström

On Random Events

2011-04-22T01:05:00.001-07:00

This evening, I ventured home from the house of some friends of mine. Since I was walking home alone and hate to be left to the devices of my own brain, I plugged myself into my iPod, put it on random, and went on my merry way.

Crossing Davie Street, I came across a gentleman standing on the opposite side of the road. Frantically waving at me, he coerced me out of my walking-home stupor. I figured he'd be asking for directions.

Gentleman: Did you see what I did just then?

Me: <pulls off headphones; last song playing on random was Alejandro by Lady Gaga> Maybe? I dunno. What did you do?

Gentleman: I got the light to change for you, just so you could come across the street and meet me. All night I knew I would meet a gorgeous woman, and there you were.

Me: Oh. Well, thanks for that, I guess.

Gentleman: My name is Alejandro.

Me: You're shitting me.

Gentleman: Um.... no?

Me: I have to go home now. Like, NOW.

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The Chicken Whisperer

2011-04-12T15:50:00.001-07:00

Two of my favourite things – MGG and chickens. That makes this the best Tuesday video ever.

Thanks go out to the ubiquitous Dan Pratt for always knowing just what I like.

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The Happiest Penguin

2011-04-11T10:42:00.001-07:00

This video is old news, but it’s my workplace stress reliever and has probably prevented a large number of homicides.

Robynn: “OMG, I am going to put my face directly through my monitor.”

Coworkers: “Go watch your penguin.”

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The Happiest Weiner

2011-04-10T15:13:00.001-07:00

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On My Uncharacteristically Maudlin Facebook Status

2011-04-09T15:22:00.001-07:00

It all goes back to this:

Your radius isn't supposed to tilt back like that. The far right photo illustrates it the most pronouncedly.

The story? Several years ago I was launched off a horse and broke both bones in my left forearm just above the wrist. (A Colles' fracture.) I was first suited up with a plaster cast, which was to be changed to a fiberglass one once the swelling went down. The appointment to change it was booked arbitrarily for two weeks from the date it was broken. My orthopedic specialist told me that the moment my cast became loose, I was to come in and have it changed early. It did after one week. I called the hospital to book an appointment. My doctor was on vacation. I was told that there was nothing they could do since he wouldn't be back until just prior to my appointment, and, not knowing any better since it was the first broken bone(s) I ever had, I didn't fight it. Hospitals should know best, shouldn't they?

Well, I waited the extra week until my doctor was back from sunny <insert tropical place name here>. I went to my appointment, he removed my plaster cast, and did some x-rays to see how things were coming along. Not well, apparently. Since my cast had become loose, my bones had shifted and were no longer set properly. And, since they'd already started to knit, they'd have to stay that way.

I wasn't aware at the time that this would cause the cornucopia of problems I've had since. I've got chronic Carpal Tunnel Syndrome since my carpal tunnel has essentially been obliterated by the misalignment of my arm. Rotating my arm creates all kinds of nauseating snaps, crackles, and pops. While I used to enjoy playing the guitar, I can now play for approximately 5 minutes before my left hand goes to pins and needles or loses its feeling entirely. Anything that requires me to hold my weight on my left hand is impossible. Random numbness and/or tingling can happen at any time, seemingly unprovoked. Every couple of days I'll wake up and have to pop the joint back into articulation. Long story short, no fun at all.

I also dance - I have for my entire life, with the exception of a hiatus between 2008 and a month or two ago. For the first time last night, I caught a close-up view of my arm in 5th position and was mortified.

Take a look at my properly functioning right arm.

Nice smooth and rounded line, hey? Now, let's take a look at my left.

Wait a minute... that doesn't look so bad. But that's en face. What happens if I turn ever so slightly?

Jeezus! What the freaking hell IS that thing? Gah!

Anyways, that was the longest explanation ever for one of the stupidest status updates ever. Am I going to stop dancing? No. But I *am* going to be a little more self-conscious from now on.

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn holmström

Our Anniversary is Coming Up...

2011-03-03T08:32:00.001-08:00

... and my iPod reminded me this morning by playing all three of our first wedding dances in order while on random.

Our first dance:

Our second dance:

And finally the third:

Happy almost-four-years to The Husband. ♥

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Hey Mr. Tambourine Man...

2011-02-11T17:46:00.001-08:00

… I’m going to hire you to follow me around and play your tambourine like that EVERYWHERE I GO. I would never have a bad day again.

That is all.

No it’s not. Your days off will include, but not be limited to every day I happen to have a hangover.

NOW that is all.

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Donating to WikiLeaks and the Julian Assange Defence Fund Made Easy...

2010-12-18T02:47:00.001-08:00

See and download the full gallery on posterous
...or as easy as it's going to be in the foreseeable future.

Straight away, I'm not going to editorialize or comment one way or the other on the value of WikiLeaks as an organization or on the innocence, guilt, or multitudinous hairstyles of Julian Assange. There is another resource out there to help you make up your mind if you haven't done so already. It's called the internet, and it's right over there. →

The sole purpose of this post, from which you can likely gather my opinion on the matter (unless you're completely daft), is to make donating to Julian's defence fund (from Canada, at least) as simple as possible - because it's really NOT simple, at least to the layperson lacking in banking savvy. <sarcasm> Thank you, PayPal and various credit organizations. </sarcasm>

One: I bank with RBC (Royal Bank of Canada), so all of my screenshots are from their system. I provide the following hoping that most other Canadian banking institutions are similarly set up.

First off, you've got a function for paying bills and/or transferring funds online. Befriend it. You can go to the bank in person and pay $40 for a wire transfer, or you can pay $13 to do an International Remittance online. Select that. See below. (I've also included all of the following screenshots in a separate gallery as I don't trust that my formatting will work according to plan.)

Once you've selected your International Remittance option, your bank should be able to populate all of your personal information with what pre-exists according to your bank account data. Select the United Kingdom as the country to which you wish to transfer funds. Again, see below.

The next step is pretty basic. Pick which account you want to transfer funds from, and run with it. For currency, use GBP. Speaking from a finance background, you want to talk to the receiving bank in its native currency - it leaves less room for confusion. The receiving bank may not arbitrarily accept foreign funds, so you want to stay on the same page as them. Below for reference.

Once you fill in whatever you feel like in this form, it'll bring up a cost review sheet. The conversion from CAD to GBP isn't always a pretty thing. Suck it up.

THIS STUFF IS IMPORTANT. If you're already a dynamo in the world of wire transfers, you can find everything you need here. If not, copy precisely what I've shown below:

And then... * ALSO CRUCIALLY IMPORTANT *

After this, you should get a couple of screens asking to verify what you've entered in the last couple, then a very long list of terms that you need to agree to, and finally an option to confirm all of the above. Please ensure you double check everything you've entered above. For reference, again, in case you were too lazy to click on the link above:

Bank: Barclays Bank plc

Name of Account: “FSI - Julian Assange Defence Fund”

Account number: 93842452

Sort code: 20-77-67

BIC/Swift code BARC GB22.

IBAN: GB86 BARC 2077 6793 8424 52

If you're having any difficulties and need some assistance, please contact me at robynn.k.holmstrom@gmail.com

And if you don't appreciate what I've written so far, why are you still reading?

Love,

Robynn

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Why I Shouldn't Do Laundry Vol. 1

2010-12-13T18:00:00.001-08:00

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What Happened at The Husband's Christmas Party THIS Year

2010-12-11T10:53:00.001-08:00

As you are aware from yesterday's post, last night was The Husband's Christmas party. I promised you an update. In the best interests of my hangover, I'm going to keep it very brief and to the point. Here goes:

Number of minutes spent lurking near dessert table during "Operation Steal Cute Pinecone"

Number of times "Husband, cover for me!" was uttered:

Number of times The Husband had to question why he was covering for me:

Number of minutes it took to explain "Operation Steal Cute Pinecone" to The Husband

Number of cute pinecones successfully stolen:

6 (YES!)

Number of funny looks I got when I left the bathroom stall where I had photographed said pinecones* and went back to the party:

Number of funny looks that were probably due to the fact that it appeared that I had used the washroom and gone back to the party without washing my hands:

Number of minutes it took me to figure out that "oh, THAT'S why" I was being looked at scornfully:

There are numerous other things I could tabulate, but honestly, the most important thing is that I got my pinecone(s). The party was fun. This year I avoided awkward conversations by wandering around and finding interesting things to look at. On that note, I'm going to head to the couch and look at the inside of my eyelids for a couple of hours.

As a parting gift, allow me to share with you the best text-message interchange of the evening:

RH: My husband's boss just pulled my ponytail. On purpose. I may stab him.

DM: Holy crap. You should. Just do it. Act like it was an accident. Use a spoon.

Happy holidays, all. xo

______________________

* photo attached

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A Refresher: What Happened at The Husband's Christmas Party LAST Year.

2010-12-10T09:45:00.001-08:00

Here, on the day of The Husband's 2010 Christmas Party, I find myself reflecting upon what happened at his last Christmas Party. I wonder if tonight will be similar. Or different. Or better. Or worse.

Below is my blog post from Saturday, December 12, 2009. Stay tuned for a Saturday, December 11, 2010 update.

_____________

DISCLAIMER: The statements below do not reflect the opinion of others present at The Husband's Christmas party. They also don't mean that I had no fun at all at said party. The food was excellent, the venue was beautiful, the band is always really fun, and the staff was wonderful and attentive. Well, except that one guy. Anyhow, as parties go, it was a good one. Below is more the fault of me being socially awkward. And the funny thing is, I'm not particularly socially awkward. But throw me into a room where everyone only talks about work that I know very little about and most have trophy wives that are either at the Peg Bundy end of the spectrum or the Jacquelyn Kennedy-Onassis one (nowhere in between), and, well....

I like to count things.

Minutes spent applying cosmetics:

Minutes spent otherwise getting ready:

40 (not bad, if you ask me.)

Minutes spent in hotel lobby looking like lost sheep because we couldn't remember which room the party was in and The Husband wouldn't ask anybody:

3.5

Awkward conversations with people I've never met and/or only see once a year that made me wish I'd feigned a migraine or appendicitis:

Times The Husband remembered to introduce me to anybody:

People from The Husband's workplace that I enjoy talking to:

People from husband's workplace that I enjoy talking to who actually showed up at party:

Alcoholic beverages (caesars) consumed:

Alcoholic beverages (caesars) consumed that were "allegedly" doubles from above total:

Minutes spent wondering if there was actually any alcohol in the bottles they were mixing drinks with or if it was all a watering-down ruse to save the company tons of cash on the open bar*:

More plausible number of alcoholic beverages (caesars) actually consumed:

Amount of tomato-clam cocktail consumed:

approx. 4 gallons

Amount of Tabasco® sauce consumed:

approx.1 gallon

Amount of Worcestershire sauce consumed:

Who knows. I can't pronounce it, so don't care.

Meatballs consumed:

Meatballs that were actually meat:

Meatballs that were actually falafel:

1 (but delicious)

Minutes spent wishing I was way more intoxicated, otherwise having more fun, or far more inclined to take an avid interest in everybody "talking shop" around me:

335

Minutes spent in washroom texting more interesting people, tweeting, or just plain enjoying the notion of sitting down somewhere quiet (with a cupholder**):

Items stolen from washroom:

2 (But both were hotel lotions and just sitting there on the counter. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to take them.)

Minutes spent lurking in foyer waiting for staff members to disappear so I could clandestinely steal a cute pinecone out of a floral arrangement:

Number of cute pinecones successfully stolen:

Number of times I made an arse of myself:

a shockingly low 1***

Notes:

* Verdict: no booze included in booze. Came home shockingly sober.

** Handy cupholder in restroom.

*** During heartfelt speech about former staff member who tragically bit it earlier in the year, my cellphone starts ringing. The Exorcist theme. On a positive note, I had recently changed my cellphone ringer from Chopin's Funeral March, which would have been a horrible combination of both more and less appropriate simultaneously.

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My Birthday Gift, Courtesy of The Husband.

2010-11-26T19:28:00.001-08:00

The Husband took a "sick" day today, mostly because his job drives him bonkers and sometimes he just needs a day off. Whatevs. It can happen to the best of us. To me, this meant that *hopefully* he'd use some of his multitude of free hours to do something productive around the house. Like... oh... I don't know. Cleaning the bathroom or something. Especially since we're having people over tomorrow for MY BIRTHDAY. It might be nice to not have to spend my Friday night scrubbing the toilet, since it's MY BIRTHDAY. In any case.

I came home from work to discover that, indeed, The Husband had had a productive day. The issue is that *my* idea of productive and *his* idea of productive come from two different planets. And we're not talking Mars and Venus, here. They're FAR too close together. Mercury and The Planet Formerly Known as Pluto are more likely.

The Husband decided to rearrange the house. What does this mean, you ask? A number of things that I'll cram into point form because, frankly, I need to get back to the tasks that are before me.

Random stuff EVERYWHERE
An ammunition crate (I know, I know) that was essentially my Junk Box being unceremoniously dumped in the free zone in the lobby by my husband who didn't realize it was full of stuff
A whole crapload of papers that I'm now in the throes of sorting
A nasty papercut on my thumb from opening the two years worth of bills I never open (who needs paper in these, the days of the Internet) that make up the crapload of papers aforementioned
20 minutes of tears (and approximately 50 cents worth of skilfully applied Dior mascara being wasted) as I'm sorting through said papers and find all these wonderful things from my past, for instance
- Speeches written for me and The Husband's wedding, which, even though I'm incredibly pissed at him right now, are quite touching
- Letters of reference written for me by various professors from my stint in The World of Academia
- My First Paystub™
- The pamphlet that came with My First Electric Guitar™ complete with original hex key
- The list goes on

Okay. Back to it. Happy Birthday to Me.

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Hallowe'en.

2010-10-31T17:22:00.001-07:00

Well, hallowe'en is as good a time to post as any.

Over the past few years I've become increasingly disenchanted with female hallowe'en costume choices. They seem to be becoming less and less creative and more and more akin to sticking "sexy" in front of whatever comes to mind.

In the spirit of the season, I have decided to give you ample time to prepare your costume for next year from the list below (in no particular order), which I have crafted using a random word generator. They're all yours. Run with them.

Sexy Pimiento
Sexy Escutcheon
Sexy Ellipsoid
Sexy Humidor
Sexy Committeeman
Sexy Numismatist
Sexy Pragmatist
Sexy Outbuilding
Sexy Reagent
Sexy Pergola

Love,
Robynn

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Dear Universe, Love Robynn

The Safeway Soviet Socialist Republic

On 2012, &c.

Very Wise Was She

The Soundtrack of my Life.... Lately

Like sands through the hourglass....

Albert's path is a strange and difficult one.

'You're my man, Pete."

And I'll see you in the branches that blow...

Stuck in Head.

Seal + Girl = Love

In Other News, I'm Actually a Big Jerk

Um, No.

On Random Events

The Chicken Whisperer

The Happiest Penguin

The Happiest Weiner

On My Uncharacteristically Maudlin Facebook Status

Our Anniversary is Coming Up...

Hey Mr. Tambourine Man...

Donating to WikiLeaks and the Julian Assange Defence Fund Made Easy...

See and download the full gallery on posterous...or as easy as it's going to be in the foreseeable future.

Why I Shouldn't Do Laundry Vol. 1

What Happened at The Husband's Christmas Party THIS Year

A Refresher: What Happened at The Husband's Christmas Party LAST Year.

My Birthday Gift, Courtesy of The Husband.

Hallowe'en.

See and download the full gallery on posterous
...or as easy as it's going to be in the foreseeable future.