Cool Kids and Ham

So I was never all the cool in highschool, what with the bad early 90s perm, big glasses, braces and sweaters my mother picked out. So, you know, I got over that, I went to University and got my groove on trying out different cool trends from the hippie-flower child to joining a Renaissance Anachronism club (yes, I was THAT awesome - sidenote: my boyfriend at the time was so inspired, he dropped out of Vet School to go work at Medieval Times for 10 years) until moving to Toronto and got a bit grounded, got some wicked friends and found my place in the world. Therefore, I sort of felt that I had become somewhat hip in my newly-found confidence as an independent, moderately financially secure early 30s woman with an admirable shoe collection and back-to-back jobs which some might consider relatively glamorous in the fashion industry. So it was with this attitude that I came up to Nunavut with my big sunglasses, new Canada Goose parka, my newly acquired stylish-yet-outdoorsy-and-I-can-handle-the Freakin'-cold wardrobe and the idea that I might be regarded as "that cool girl from Toronto". It took exactly 4 weeks for the cool kids up here to figure out that if you switch some of the letters in my name around to form the word "Assilon". Wonderful. At first, being the suave, confident adult that I am, I laughed it off and with a laisser-faire attitude that clearly stated "Chuh.... TEEN agers"... until 2 weeks later it really started to piss me off and I finally lost my cool and told them off, which to my frustration as I walked away, heard the telltale giggling of those girls who probably terrorize the kids in the cafeteria. Grrr... Fortunately, redemption. Not just one, but TWO of the staff told me the other day told me that they are so glad I moved here because I make work fun and that they really like me. And they don't call me Assilon. Hoorah!!! And anyway, I have other friends. More mature friends. So there. Losers. I mean, silly children with nothing to do but torment your manager who is just trying to be patient and kind and learn life up in the North. And tonight, as a thanks to the people who ARE nice to me, and have opened their doors I offered to bring food. A ham, in fact. Do I know how to bake a good ham? No, of course I don't, but that didn't stop me. I emailed my aunt who makes the best darn ham you've ever had. Good lord, maybe I should have done a practice ham. But at least I have back-up yams (god, if this gets out, I'll be Assilon the Ham/Yam girl) and chocolate cupcakes for the kiddies. Yes, I made Easter cupcakes for children. While listening to Country music. Can we say Identity Crisis? I don't like children. Or country music. At least I didn't until I moved here. Which just goes to show you, getting out of you comfort zone can be an amazing thing, and you can really learn a lot about yourself. Which, isn't that what life is supposed to be about it? Now hopefully, I will get something more indepth out of moving half way across the planet than just that I like country music and children, but even if I don't, well, that's ok by me. Because after all kids, every experience in life is a blink of an eye. Highschool tormenting felt like a life time and yet it was over before I knew it and suddenly I was 33 and being tormented again by highschool kids and not caring (much), and I was smiling at little runny-nosed children and listening to music that I have never listened to before and baking hams. All while there are 80km/h winds outside and my friends are all posting about patios and beautiful days on Facebook. And it doesn't bother me.