My cleaning lady - that's right. I have one! And I love it! Exclamation points alone do not do the fact that I have a cleaning lady thing justice.

When I first started working, a friend recommended a book for me "Smart Women Finish Rich", the only financial advice book I have ever read. It was a good read and for someone who is terrible with her money an enlightening insight into how so many people are even worse with theirs. Many of the tricks on how to save I already did - I brought a lunch to work and limited the number of coffees I buy a day / week, I had a quasi budget for my regular expenses and while I was spending too much, I knew how and why I was spending it. But one tip really stuck out for me; if as a woman you make more that $60,000 (US / 2004) a year, you should have a cleaning lady.

The logic stuck me as sound, but the reality screamed decadence. As an able bodied individual, why can't I spend a few hours a week scrubbing and cleaning? Vacuuming, sweeping, dusting and mopping? Washing windows, toilets and showers? How much is my time really worth? And what am I doing on weekends anyway ... besides, it is a great workout? Hauling the vacuum up and down the stairs, reaching around the toilet, it is a mini cardio and yoga workout rolled into the comfort of your own home.

At first I refused to hire a cleaning lady because I lived with other people who were messy and I wasn't sure why my good money should pay to clean up after them. I also lived in fear of the weekends designated for a "good cleaning". I did learn that a messy house leads to stress and over-all grumpiness. Now I live alone. For people who do not know me, I am a bit of a neat freak. Everything has a place and is put away, I hate clutter and love walking barefoot on clean floors. It seemed a waste to spend money on what I thought should be a quick job.

And then one day, I popped over to pay my neighbors cleaning lady for him and my life changed. It was a whim, I admit. My parents were in town and the first thing my mother did was clean. I thought I had done a OK job - but it wasn't up to her standards. She complained about how the blinds were dusty (who has time to dust blinds?) and that my stove could do with a really good wipe-down (OK, it was a little greasy, but how do you really scrub the grim off?). Tired of her comments about my inability to clean a floor so that a five course meal could be eaten right off it, I asked the cleaning lady if she would do my house as well - and she said yes!

There is something about ever second Friday knowing that when I get home, my place will be clean. What is even better is sleeping in on Saturday morning and not having to make anytime for cleaning my house. Yes, it is totally decadent - but I am worth it. So this evening while I am admiring my wonderfully clean house, I will raise a glass to my cleaning lady.

When did gas-mileage become a pick-up line? When I started this blog, I thought I would share stories of dating in Ottawa. Needless to say I have yet to post a blog on this topic because - well - I don't think there is such a thing! I have been single for a few years and am so far removed from dating, I doubt I would know a date if it was at my door with flowers! I am not even sure what people do on dates these days or if there is anyone in Ottawa to date! When I was younger bars, clubs and class where were you met people, and the lines they would rattle off are stuff from bad jokes. Some pretense to inform me about a car, an income, or a life-style that was hardly possible at the tender age of 22.

A few years ago I tried my hand at internet dating, and the only good thing about it were the ridiculous stories that came from the experience. One was such a disaster that I didn't even get his name, or the guy who referred to himself in the third person. Not to be out done, there was the guy who believed that panty-hose was the best thing that ever came from publicly funded science (and no - he was being ironic!) Here the rhetoric was about "healthy life-styles", how often do you work out? And you play how many sports? Weekly? Wow ... and a full time job! It was intimidating enough to make even an olympic athlete think twice!

They say love finds you when you are not looking - but more important, you have to be open to it. And as much as I thought I was ready ... I was not. For the last few years something was holding me back and a text-message from a friend this week made me realise that I was finally ready. What was shocking about the text was that I felt nothing ... nothing. And that made me know, that after all this time I am can move on. And now I see them. There are some great guys in this city, and they have nice smiles, do fun things, smell nice, and some of them are even single!

When someone started boasting about gas-mileage, and someone else extolled the virtues of a car-less life-style last week, it made me stop and think. If you listen with an open heart you can often hear the hint of a pick-up line. Now I am not going to say that every friendly smile is someone trying to get with me, I am old and wise enough to know that is not the case. It has actually been happening all around me all the time, but instead of being open I scowled, avoided eye contact or turned the other. Next time someone tells me about their organic meat obsession, I will smile back! Perhaps that and my vermicompost will be enough to create opportunities that I would not have dreamed about, even from the kookiest on-line profile.

The camping trip of errors, a learning opportunity? There is a secret lake, I can't tell you were it is. It is crystal clear and the fish are friendly, there are beautiful camp sites and no booking fees. I can get there in less than three hours and then just dive into the warm waters or watch the sun set and loons play. At least, that was supposed to be what it was like ...

Growing up we didn't camp. I was a bathrobe on the back of the door kinda gal, sometimes we over nighted on our sail boat, which was my definition of hell, and there are always bugs, you are always sticky from sea water and it was a whole 48hours of no privacy with my parents. Now I am in Canada, and while I miss the ocean - I love to camp. Who knew? I am becoming a better and better camper and can tend a fire with the best of them, solo a canoe and prepare hassle-free gourmet meals on a camp-fire.

So this weekend, four of us strapped canoes to the top of two cars and drove to find this secret lake.

The thing with secret lakes is that the road is far less traveled. In fact, it was off-road for 3km, steep nasty climbs full of rocks and pot-holes, washer-board descents, tight and twisty - I felt like a rally driver. And then I missed the turning, probably doing another 1km  on the path even less traveled! Trees hung over the route and there was barely enough space for my little Civic to make it through. When I finally pull the most precarious 3-point turn of my life and found the slip-way, the canoe has slipped off the rack, scratching my roof and one wheel-well is not a very wheel-like shape, making strange sounds whenever the car moved up-and-down too much. Planning on taking the car in on Tuesday anyway - no biggie.

Unload vehicle, try and find a parking spot, and accidentally slip the front end into a sand pit! No biggie, I have dealt with worse in snow ... WRONG. Now the car is stuck. I pulled it up onto some hard-pack where my front wheels have some traction and decide to deal with it on Sunday, after all, it is a pretty good parking spot and there are almost no others. Sunday saw me digging the front wheel out of an even bigger sand trap when our efforts to extract my poor Civic went array. The entire nose ended up buried and there was nothing I could use to gain traction - especially since the nose of the car was pointed down and the "road" was up a steep incline.

Other issues this weekend, apart from my only pair of shoes breaking and having to spend the better part of 24hours barefoot around the camp-site? Well, turns out the secret lake is not so secret and by around 3pm on Saturday afternoon people where circling our little island looking for spots. We had a huge spot for the two tents, and so by 5pm, we had to "invite" one of the way-ward groups to set-up shop: 14 22year-olds with a guitar and enough alcohol to start their own shop. Some negotiating was done and for the most part they left us alone and thanks to a wind on Saturday night, they were "quiet" (apart from repeating renditions of "Zombie" by the Cranberries ... where these kids even alive when that single was released?)

But lots went right! Our site was spectacular. My tent was on a little point so both vestibules overlooked lake, we had great jumping rocks right off our site and a rope-swing off a tree where we spent hours flying through the air out into the lake. We only had bugs one night, and they were not vicious, there was a turtle checking things out yesterday morning and this morning during my morning skinny-dip, fish were nibbling my toes! The company was wonderful, the food plentiful, the loons friendly and the star numerous, and apart from worrying about my car on-and-off all weekend, it was a peaceful and relaxing two nights.

I learned a lot about not worrying about something you have no control over. Ensuring that I left the issues with the vehicle behind me to focus on not focusing was not easy. But I did it, and something told me it would be OK. It was ... after an hour of digging and my three camping buddies standing around watching, a truck finally came by - he happened to have tow-rope and after he unloaded, pulled me out. It took mere seconds. Next time I hit Canadian Tire, I will be purchasing some stuff for the scratches on my roof and a tow-rope! Lesson learned!

A water baby -  I love water. Something about being completely submerged in a large body of H2O rejuvenates me. In summer I try and just be in water and in winter I will take long hot baths, just to disengaged from everything for a while. Apart from the per chemistry of 60% of me actually being water - water gives me life. My parents associated me with water even before I was born - having met scuba diving, when my mother found out she was pregnant, she called me "Ting Hou" or "Goddess of the Ocean", and insisted that my name had the initials "T.H.".

I grew up around the ocean, and when I was small we had a sail boat and would explore the beaches, islands and coves around the South China Sea. At one point we lived less than a three minute walk from one of Hong Kong's largest beaches and I could spend hours dipping in and out of the water. There is a mystic about the ocean that lakes and rivers (no matter how high or fast) can match and nothing is nicer than falling asleep to the sounds of waves lapping a beach, or waking to the sound of storm crashes.

And now I live in land-locked Ontario ....

Late last night, after an evening rowing on the Ottawa river, I was biking home along the Rideau river. Zipping along in the almost darkness with the dampness in the air, brought on by sunset and the proximity to the river and the smell was fresh and sweet. There is something about the wonderful smell around lakes and rivers, the dampness in the air. The river was calm - mirror flat with only small ripples from where fish were coming up to feast on bugs. There was a stillness. I have learned to love fresh-water.

Ottawa is surrounded by lakes and rivers and many of them are swimable. On a hot summer Sunday morning, I can hop on my bike and be at the secret swimming spot in ten minutes. Here I leisurely drift around in the cool water for an hour either alone or with a friend. A short 45 minutes hike leads me to Meech lake, where there is a bench to watch the world go by and a wonderful sandy spot to enter the kale. There is something wonderful and refreshing about a quick dip in the cool and clear water around here and there is something even better about being able to get on a bike or hike home, without the stickiness of salt drying on my skin.

But I still prefer the ocean.

Summer sunshine - it has been a while since my last post ... I have been enjoying the summer that has finally arrived. Been rowing (well, coxing), been camping. been hiking and hanging out, have found patios, BBQ's and get-together with friends - generally been busy. How do I do it? By bike!

I used to bike around Toronto a lot. It was a great way to get around but in the years I did I had three bikes stolen and as many unfortunate encounters with vehicles, usually thanks to the people driving them (but not always, I was also door-prized by a kid). I have been on my bike around Ottawa (and Gatineau) for five years now and I have to say that this city has it going! Of course, things could be a lot better and every afternoon when I cross the Cummings Bridge I really believe I am taking my life into my own hands, but on the whole there are bike lanes and bike paths and sweet smelling air to breath.

A few of my favorite bike moments:

• Biking along the canal late at night, zipping past couples snuggling on benches, runners enjoying the cooler air and people just enjoying the sites. The lighting isn't the best, but it has this strange other-worldly quality that puts me in a zone and just slows me down. There is peace to be found at night even in the heart of this city.
• Biking home late at night after a patio with friends. Nothing beats racing up Rideau in four inch heels at 2am. There is little to no traffic and finding a cab or bus at that hour is impossible. There is a certain reckless abandon that overtakes me as the cool air rushes up and I slalom the pot-holes.
• Riding to work. I usually do not choose my attire to suit my bike, I make my bike suit my attire, so I have been known to show up at work in a skirt, heels and helmet hair! A little cardio and fresh glow to start the day. Although the double takes some people give me as I walk up Sparks street with the panier and dress is also wonderful.
• Doing stuff for the Roads and Cycling Advisory Committee. This one sounds really geeky, and it is! We are a city advisory body that helps provide insight on roads and cycling issues around the city. I feel we are actually doing good and helping improve the environment for cyclists.

I own three bikes - only one has seen any road time yet this year. It is a shame, each year I spend less and less time on any of them, but when ever I do get out, I love every minute of it. I don't break any speed records, and get there is something fast about being on a bike, something nimble and liberating and I do hope that my road bike gets some serious mileage this year.

Meat and vegetables - It is the May long-24, the first official day of the Canadian planting season. I put in a few vegetables last weekend and hope to have home grown lettuce and tomatoes, as well as some herbs and cat-nip. The farmers markets are now open as well, and while I am looking forward to the selection of fresh fruit and vegetables, what I will miss is my monthly meat delivery.

Last fall, a friend of mine and I signed up for to share a cow. We technically didn't get the WHOLE cow, just choice cuts from her friend, Farmer Paul, who spent last summer raising these beautiful bovines, and this year will be raising even more. A few things that rocked about my shared cow:

• It was honestly some of the BEST beef I have ever had in my life. Purests will tell you that great meat should never be frozen, but I beg to differ. I defrosted a Porter House to open the BBQ for the season, and with very little marinating, the steak just melted in my house. It was fresh and juicy and a moment of pure bliss ... times like that I am glad I am single; I don't have to share it with anyone!
• Farmer Paul drops it off all through the winter. When I first started looking into whole beasts purchased from local farmers, I found that they often just give you half the animal. How am I supposed to store that much meat? Receiving a drop-off every month, meant that I only had enough to eat through the month and didn't have to worry about losing choice cuts somewhere deep in the bowels of a chest freezer.
• No tyranny of the cow. I once signed up for a vegetable box and I felt that every week I was beholden to the goodness in the box ... there was just too much to consume and sometimes produce had to be disposed of. It was heartbreaking and a huge waste! With a shared purchase, there is only a small drop-off with a variety of cuts every month for six months. Three-to-five pounds is more than enough to keep someone satisfied for a month without feeling beholden to emptying the freezer before the next delivery and giving me the space to eat other things during the month.
• No commitment. Paul did door-to-door deliveries once a month, but sometimes I was just not around to receive them ... but with a shared purchase, someone is bound to be home on the cold Saturday morning when the meat is delivered. It resulted in the freedom to enjoy winter to its fullest without having to worry about being around to receive the monthly drop-off.
• Variety every month. On the whole, we knew what was coming in each box, but as it was shared some months I would get mince - leading to wonderful spaghetti sauces - and just as I was getting tired of that, a new box would arrive and this time I would have a roast and sausages. There is something fun about not exactly knowing what you will get this month, that leads to creativity in the kitchen.
• Sharing brings you closer to your friend. Winter can be cruel, with people disappearing for months either because they revel in every second of the season or they are holding tight waiting for spring. Sharing meat with a friend means you get to see them at least once a month. You can share recipes, barter over cuts, invite them over for dinner to help devour the roast.

This summer, I hope to actually meet the cows that will sustain me over the winter at Grazing Days farm. And  I plan to share a purchase again this winter. To summer, and the produce it will bring us, the rain, the sun and the cows that will grow healthy over the next few months so that I can make sauces, stews, sausages and steaks through the winter months.

A moment of pure bliss - Ah vacation ... how I miss you, the ridiculously long flights (over 46hours on an airplane over 2 weeks), living out of a suitcase, the lack of clean laundry, the fantastic food, the cheap massages ($5.00 for an hour), the home coming in Hong Kong, the usual sights and real public transit! My two-plus weeks in Hong Kong and Bali (Indonesia) were really needed. It was fantastic, but I was numb leaving Hong Kong and realising that I had to come back to "reality" soon.

The homecoming is always bitter-sweet and suddenly the lack of hot-water and water pressure in that hotel on the beach seems quaint, the mosquito nets and haphazard air-conditioning seems like fancy extras and the total disconnection from smart-phones, e-mail and computers in total a release. There were no moments when I felt home-sick, where I wondered about home or work, where I thought about my bed - NONE. I was 100% there and just living it fully. But there were a few moments, that were the perfect moments. Moments I will not forget.

108-foot under water
I had two criteria when I invited friends to join me; Hong Kong and scuba diving, everything else was negotiable! I got five days of diving on a remote beach in Bali, in a tiny town called Amed, the closest ATM was 30 minutes away by car, the sea was calm and the locals friendly. On day four, there were other divers, but none could join me on "the wall" because they were not experienced enough (note I was always with an experienced local Dive Master). The wall was over 120ft deep and teeming with life, from pygmy seahorses and cheeky clown fish to cuttle-fish and giant hump-nose Napoleon fish. But one thing always lures me - the vastness of the deep. Swimming away from the wall and just watching the blue - wondering what is out there and what might appear. The world isn't quiet when you are 100ft underwater but out there, beyond the wall there is a different quiet and an emptiness that is full of life. It excites me and scares me and something about just waiting thrills me and makes me feel alive.

Alone on the beach after sunset
On  night number six in Amed, I was alone - the others had gone on ahead to Ubud. My usual after scuba diving ritual included a late lunch, a swim, a massage, another swim, a shower, drinks watching the sunset and dinner. None of this change except that I was running behind "schedule" and ended up on the beach with a cold beer after sunset. The sea off Amed was calm, like glass, and reflected the full moon the first few nights, but this last night, the moon never made an appearance, instead the perfect stillness reflected the southern stars. As I lay on the beach-chair gazing at the upside down star-scape, I watched a distant thunderstorm slowly move north from over Lombok, across the ocean - just on the horizon. Each bolt of lightening shadowed the monstrous thunder-caps, and yet where I was there was no breeze, no rain, no sound - only stars.

I am now basking in the joy of an Ottawa spring, the weak sunshine and early morning bird songs, but often I think back to my seven days in Amed and how peaceful and uneventful life was, and yet how alive I felt.