Everyone seems to be doing a 2011 wrap up post. I don't want to because 2011 and I aren't speaking. I think 2011 is negative attention seeking and I don't feed into that type of behaviour.
Just kidding. Yes I do.
Seriously though, I'm blogging from my broken iPhone because my computer broke. That's how absurd 2011 has been. We have to wait until payday to fix it so.....that's good news.
Who knows how many typos are going to be in this post.
So 2011 was nutso and it flew by. I attempted many goals and accomplished a good chunk of them.
I worked out lots. I quit sugar for a month. I quit Facebook for a month. I was vegetarian for a month. I made rules and didn't follow them for a month. I managed my time poorly for a month. I read the Book of Mormon in a month. I did 30 classes of hot yoga in 30 days. I wrote a book.......which is stuck inside my broken computer, by the way.
I can't think about everything that's on that broken computer, possibly never to be seen again, without hyperventilating so let's just not go there.
Okay?
Out of the last 12 months my house has been for sale for ten of them. It never sold. We are still reevaluating that one
The upside of that one is that we didn't have to move in 2011. See? I can always find the positive.
4 kids, healthy and strong, is nothing to sneeze at. And a sexy man who always comes home to me tops my list of things to toast tonight.
We are chilling with my brother and his family this New Years Eve.
My house looks like a bomb went off in it and no one cares so on that note.........
Happy New Years everyone. I'll catch you on the flip side.
And ps, please don't drink and drive.
Ciao.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
stop the madness
Jack, who is 12: My tongue tastes funny.
Me: It's probably scurvy. You should eat a piece of fruit.
Jack: How about an orange pop. Can I have that?
Me: Sure, why not?
If I hadn't almost barfed at hot yoga this morning that conversation may have had different undertones. Or overtones.
I feel less than invigorated and it's because the food at Christmas is so very tasty. The madness needs to stop.
Stop the madness, I say.
Time for a green smoothie and a vitamin. For everyone. And maybe a nap.
Yes, a nap. That sounds delightful. But apparently I made some inane promise to take the children to the mall.
As if I haven't hated on myself enough today. Remember? I went to the hot yoga.
It was almost catastrophic.
Me: It's probably scurvy. You should eat a piece of fruit.
Jack: How about an orange pop. Can I have that?
Me: Sure, why not?
If I hadn't almost barfed at hot yoga this morning that conversation may have had different undertones. Or overtones.
I feel less than invigorated and it's because the food at Christmas is so very tasty. The madness needs to stop.
Stop the madness, I say.
Time for a green smoothie and a vitamin. For everyone. And maybe a nap.
Yes, a nap. That sounds delightful. But apparently I made some inane promise to take the children to the mall.
As if I haven't hated on myself enough today. Remember? I went to the hot yoga.
It was almost catastrophic.
Monday, December 26, 2011
the snow angel returns
Why Boxing Day? When did you get here?
We've gone from "2 months til Christmas" to "14 sleeps til Christmas". From "7 more sleeps" to "2 more sleeps". Then we had the big one.
One more sleep.
Amelia was asleep before 7:30. The excitement simply proved too much for her. Holden followed shortly after. Jack went on his own accord when he decided the sooner he went to sleep the sooner he would wake up. I sent Cicely to bed at 9:30.
Santa came and went by 9:45 and then I was in bed reading a book at 10. It was easy. And relaxed and stress free.
Just the way Christmas should be.
Lovely.
But for our family, the loveliest part of this month has been playing with the Snow Angel. On December 12 we started The 12 Days of Christmas for the Snow Angel and his family.
And it was fun.
We did it anonymously, or so we tried. I do detect, however, a level of delusion in myself in thinking we could get away with that for 12 straight days. We didn't want him to know who was leaving little treats on his front step. So we tried to be real covert-like and hid under a cover of darkness.
We have never met the snow angel and it took some time to figure out where he lived last year when I discovered someone was shoveling my walk every time it snowed. One day I saw him pulling out of his garage on his little green and yellow go-go machine. A little while later our next door neighbour confirmed it was him. We meant to take a thank you to him earlier in the spring but never got around to it. This Christmas, and my December goal, made it perfect for us to thank him properly.
We started every gift with a note that read something like this:
Dear Snow Angel,
On the 1st day of Christmas thy true fans gave to thee...
a partridge in a pear tree.
Or rather.....
a copy of our favourite Christmas CD.
Day 2? Was turtle Doves.......
And everyday after that we took a treat with a little note and tried to tie the treat in as best we could to the song. Sometimes it was a stretch, youknowwhatimean? We tried extra hard not to get caught. The boys were in charge of ringing and running, and in their excitement, some banging on the door.
After a few times I was starting to worry we were bothering them. But then I decided that if someone was doing it to me I would love it and so would my kids so we pressed on.
On day 5 they were having a party. We banged extra hard.
On day 12 I sent the boys up with 12 tiny little ice cream drumsticks and a longer note explaining exactly WHY we appreciated them so much and how grateful we were for their service.
I gave the boys the bag and the usual talking to.
"Now don't bang too loud or too long. We don't want to irritate them. And run fast. Don't walk in front of the windows and DO NOT GET CAUGHT! We've made it this far. Don't get caught!"
A few minutes later they were home and we settled into a game of Uno Extreme. Which is really fun, by the way.
Sometime later......
The man: What's that sound? It sounds like the Snow Angel coming.
Me: But, it's not snowing.
We all looked out the front window and, low and behold, Santa was riding a snow plow and stopped right in front of our house.
The kids freaked. I was a little surprised.
Me: Boys! Did you get caught?
The boys: NO! We ran fast down the alley. They wouldn't have seen us.
The door bell rang. We opened it. Santa, his wife and his two teenage children were standing there with huge smiles on their faces.
Santa (otherwise known as the Snow Angel): Merry Christmas!
Mrs.Snow Angel: Are you guys the ones doing the 12 days of Christmas?
Me: Maaaaaaaaybeeeeeeee?!?!
Snow Angel: We loved it. It was best Christmas ever. We loved it. Thank you.
I almost cried. Part of me was so mad we got caught but a bigger part of me was so relieved that they loved it.
Mrs. Snow Angel: We had spies out tonight and they followed your boys home. We needed to know who it was so we could say thank you.
They handed us a box of chocolates and a DVD and the loveliest of Christmas cards in the history of lovely Christmas cards.
We all introduced each other, shook hands, exchanged some niceties and it was over.
So a thank you for a thank you. And so goes the cycle of generosity and gratitude at Christmas time.
We were pleased but I did need to talk it out a bit.
Me: I'm glad they liked it but it was supposed to be anonymous.
Holden: I'm glad they caught us because now we get to eat all this chocolate!
Me: Hmmmmm, the point has been missed, me thinks.
But it hadn't. They got it. They loved it.
And they are already planning next year's escapades.
And me? I'm just hopeful the song "The 12 Days of Christmas" will exit my head and leave me alone for a bit.
Oy!
*************
Here's what we did:
A partridge in a pear tree. A homemade Christmas CD
2 Turtle Doves. A box of Turtles and a Dove Chocolate bar
3 French Hens. A bag of Chicken Bone Bark. Hens. Chickens. Bones. Get it? Me neither.......
4 Calling birds. They were calling for a dozen of our yummy spiced chocolate chip cookies. They flew away but the cookies stayed.
5 Golden Rings. 5 Honey glazed donuts from Tim Hortons. I was going to make them, but.......
6 Geese-a-laying. Some Cadbury Mini eggs. Yum.
7 Swans-a-swimming. In 2 mugs with Rolo flavored hot chocolate and some chocolate stirring spoons.
8 Maids-a-milking. Egg Nog.
9 Ladies dancing. I cut out 9 paper dolls and Amelia decorated them. We glued them to 9 French Vanilla candy canes and laid them on a Christmas platter.
10 Lords-a-leaping. They leapt right over some Maple Pecan Chocolate Butter tarts. They were goooooood.
11 Pipers Piping. Or Poppers Popping. 2 bags of microwave popcorn with BBQ Chicken Wings flavoured Popcorn salt.
12 Drummers Drumming. 12 mini ice cream drumsticks.
Good times.
We've gone from "2 months til Christmas" to "14 sleeps til Christmas". From "7 more sleeps" to "2 more sleeps". Then we had the big one.
One more sleep.
Amelia was asleep before 7:30. The excitement simply proved too much for her. Holden followed shortly after. Jack went on his own accord when he decided the sooner he went to sleep the sooner he would wake up. I sent Cicely to bed at 9:30.
Santa came and went by 9:45 and then I was in bed reading a book at 10. It was easy. And relaxed and stress free.
Just the way Christmas should be.
Lovely.
But for our family, the loveliest part of this month has been playing with the Snow Angel. On December 12 we started The 12 Days of Christmas for the Snow Angel and his family.
And it was fun.
We did it anonymously, or so we tried. I do detect, however, a level of delusion in myself in thinking we could get away with that for 12 straight days. We didn't want him to know who was leaving little treats on his front step. So we tried to be real covert-like and hid under a cover of darkness.
We have never met the snow angel and it took some time to figure out where he lived last year when I discovered someone was shoveling my walk every time it snowed. One day I saw him pulling out of his garage on his little green and yellow go-go machine. A little while later our next door neighbour confirmed it was him. We meant to take a thank you to him earlier in the spring but never got around to it. This Christmas, and my December goal, made it perfect for us to thank him properly.
We started every gift with a note that read something like this:
Dear Snow Angel,
On the 1st day of Christmas thy true fans gave to thee...
a partridge in a pear tree.
Or rather.....
a copy of our favourite Christmas CD.
Day 2? Was turtle Doves.......
And everyday after that we took a treat with a little note and tried to tie the treat in as best we could to the song. Sometimes it was a stretch, youknowwhatimean? We tried extra hard not to get caught. The boys were in charge of ringing and running, and in their excitement, some banging on the door.
After a few times I was starting to worry we were bothering them. But then I decided that if someone was doing it to me I would love it and so would my kids so we pressed on.
On day 5 they were having a party. We banged extra hard.
On day 12 I sent the boys up with 12 tiny little ice cream drumsticks and a longer note explaining exactly WHY we appreciated them so much and how grateful we were for their service.
I gave the boys the bag and the usual talking to.
"Now don't bang too loud or too long. We don't want to irritate them. And run fast. Don't walk in front of the windows and DO NOT GET CAUGHT! We've made it this far. Don't get caught!"
A few minutes later they were home and we settled into a game of Uno Extreme. Which is really fun, by the way.
Sometime later......
The man: What's that sound? It sounds like the Snow Angel coming.
Me: But, it's not snowing.
We all looked out the front window and, low and behold, Santa was riding a snow plow and stopped right in front of our house.
The kids freaked. I was a little surprised.
Me: Boys! Did you get caught?
The boys: NO! We ran fast down the alley. They wouldn't have seen us.
The door bell rang. We opened it. Santa, his wife and his two teenage children were standing there with huge smiles on their faces.
Santa (otherwise known as the Snow Angel): Merry Christmas!
Mrs.Snow Angel: Are you guys the ones doing the 12 days of Christmas?
Me: Maaaaaaaaybeeeeeeee?!?!
Snow Angel: We loved it. It was best Christmas ever. We loved it. Thank you.
I almost cried. Part of me was so mad we got caught but a bigger part of me was so relieved that they loved it.
Mrs. Snow Angel: We had spies out tonight and they followed your boys home. We needed to know who it was so we could say thank you.
They handed us a box of chocolates and a DVD and the loveliest of Christmas cards in the history of lovely Christmas cards.
We all introduced each other, shook hands, exchanged some niceties and it was over.
So a thank you for a thank you. And so goes the cycle of generosity and gratitude at Christmas time.
We were pleased but I did need to talk it out a bit.
Me: I'm glad they liked it but it was supposed to be anonymous.
Holden: I'm glad they caught us because now we get to eat all this chocolate!
Me: Hmmmmm, the point has been missed, me thinks.
But it hadn't. They got it. They loved it.
And they are already planning next year's escapades.
And me? I'm just hopeful the song "The 12 Days of Christmas" will exit my head and leave me alone for a bit.
Oy!
*************
Here's what we did:
A partridge in a pear tree. A homemade Christmas CD
2 Turtle Doves. A box of Turtles and a Dove Chocolate bar
3 French Hens. A bag of Chicken Bone Bark. Hens. Chickens. Bones. Get it? Me neither.......
4 Calling birds. They were calling for a dozen of our yummy spiced chocolate chip cookies. They flew away but the cookies stayed.
5 Golden Rings. 5 Honey glazed donuts from Tim Hortons. I was going to make them, but.......
6 Geese-a-laying. Some Cadbury Mini eggs. Yum.
7 Swans-a-swimming. In 2 mugs with Rolo flavored hot chocolate and some chocolate stirring spoons.
8 Maids-a-milking. Egg Nog.
9 Ladies dancing. I cut out 9 paper dolls and Amelia decorated them. We glued them to 9 French Vanilla candy canes and laid them on a Christmas platter.
10 Lords-a-leaping. They leapt right over some Maple Pecan Chocolate Butter tarts. They were goooooood.
11 Pipers Piping. Or Poppers Popping. 2 bags of microwave popcorn with BBQ Chicken Wings flavoured Popcorn salt.
12 Drummers Drumming. 12 mini ice cream drumsticks.
Good times.
Friday, December 23, 2011
makin' a list
Christmas presents bought. Check.
Christmas presents wrapped. Check.
All groceries bought until the new year. Check.
Baking done. Check and still checking.
Parents here for the the holidays. Check.
Insanely organized. Check.
Tired and not sleeping well. Check.
12 days of Christmas done for the snow angel. After dinner tonight we can check that one off. It's been amazing. More about that later.
Well, people, once again Christmas is almost here. 2 more sleeps! I know a certain 5 year old who is beside herself with excitement. It's going to be a crazy few days so I guess I'll see you on the flip side.
Merry Christmas everyone!! Have a fantastically wonderful holiday and be safe be safe be safe!
Christmas presents wrapped. Check.
All groceries bought until the new year. Check.
Baking done. Check and still checking.
Parents here for the the holidays. Check.
Insanely organized. Check.
Tired and not sleeping well. Check.
12 days of Christmas done for the snow angel. After dinner tonight we can check that one off. It's been amazing. More about that later.
Well, people, once again Christmas is almost here. 2 more sleeps! I know a certain 5 year old who is beside herself with excitement. It's going to be a crazy few days so I guess I'll see you on the flip side.
Merry Christmas everyone!! Have a fantastically wonderful holiday and be safe be safe be safe!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
my brain on christmas
Santa uses empty chicken boxes to wrap gifts in, right? Elves eat lots of chicken, it's how they keep their energy up. I swear I read that somewhere.
I am up to my eyeballs in it, people.
My eyeballs. Up to them. With Christmas.
Where is the time going?
I spent $700 at Superstore today and if I hadn't done yoga the last two days in a row I would have committed myself.
That is a surety.
Here's a question. Unsure is a word. And surety is a word. So how come unsurety is not a word?
I can't decide if I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day or I Saw Three Ships is my favourite Christmas carol. What's yours?
Have you ever seen the movie Elf? Does this post remind you of the part where Buddy meets Michael at his school? Yeah, me too.
I love that movie.
Monday, December 19, 2011
dearest
My dearest, sweetest, most affable husband,
I just wanted to let you know how astonishing I think you are. How bewildered by your talents I am on a daily basis. How much I respect you for all your hard work and dedication to this family. Tis the season to let loved ones know how much we love them. To show our appreciation for them. What better place to announce my adulation and express my devotion to you than my blog? Where millions and millions and tens of people come for daily enlightenment.
So here I sit, thinking only of you. Wondering where your thoughts are this sunny, wintery day. It's 6 days until Christmas and our children, our jewels, are beside themselves with excitement and glee.
Cicely has finally announced what she wants for Christmas. Money. Isn't she helpful?
Jack is dying to finally get his birthday present. Never mind that his birthday was 3 months ago and I talked him into waiting until Christmas to get it. That kid is gullible, isn't he?
Holden is just hanging on by a thread. The anticipation may kill him yet. Or me. It's still undecided.
Amelia has finally laid down a mountain of regret. See, she forgot to ask Santa for a Lalaloopsy doll in her letter this year. It has burdened her tremendously, for she wants one more than words can express. She asked me to send the big guy an email and let him know there was an amendment to the letter. Watching a 5 year old live with this level of stress is difficult. A burden I have borne, willingly, for over a month.
But then, all was right with her world again when you waited so patiently with her at the ward Christmas party on Saturday so she could see Santa and tell him herself of her grievous error.
You are a good father. You may have saved the day. Or season. Or moment. Or whatever it is you are experiencing when you are 5.
However, I wanted to let you know something, in the gentlest way possible. Or remind you. Or point out. Or whatever might be the least offensive to you. When you are working hard, everyday, and cursing my station in life. When it is cold outside and your toes are frozen and aching to the point where you long for death. When you come home to find that we are eating ichiban and grilled cheese, again. When you run out of clean socks (which rarely happens since you have 263 pairs of them). When you find out I have watched an entire season of Friday Night Lights in one day whilst you were working. When you close your eyes tight and repeat three times "I wish I was her. I wish I was her. I wish I was her," only to open them and find yourself still at work and not at home, in your jammies, bons bons in one hand and a pepsi in the other.
I want you to remember one thing and one thing only.
I do all the Christmas shopping.
Every year.
All of it.
And because of my existence you are spared this particular nightmare.
It is my hope and dream for you that having this singular, most imperative nugget of information will make your days flow smoothly and without too much perturbation at what may appear to be a gross diverseness of our situations.
And remember, always, that I love you.
And sacrifice much for your happiness.
Yours always and forever,
Catherine
P.S. I bought my Christmas present from you today despite the fact that we have an unwritten rule not to exchange gifts.
I'm sorry and......
you're welcome.
C.
I just wanted to let you know how astonishing I think you are. How bewildered by your talents I am on a daily basis. How much I respect you for all your hard work and dedication to this family. Tis the season to let loved ones know how much we love them. To show our appreciation for them. What better place to announce my adulation and express my devotion to you than my blog? Where millions and millions and tens of people come for daily enlightenment.
So here I sit, thinking only of you. Wondering where your thoughts are this sunny, wintery day. It's 6 days until Christmas and our children, our jewels, are beside themselves with excitement and glee.
Cicely has finally announced what she wants for Christmas. Money. Isn't she helpful?
Jack is dying to finally get his birthday present. Never mind that his birthday was 3 months ago and I talked him into waiting until Christmas to get it. That kid is gullible, isn't he?
Holden is just hanging on by a thread. The anticipation may kill him yet. Or me. It's still undecided.
Amelia has finally laid down a mountain of regret. See, she forgot to ask Santa for a Lalaloopsy doll in her letter this year. It has burdened her tremendously, for she wants one more than words can express. She asked me to send the big guy an email and let him know there was an amendment to the letter. Watching a 5 year old live with this level of stress is difficult. A burden I have borne, willingly, for over a month.
But then, all was right with her world again when you waited so patiently with her at the ward Christmas party on Saturday so she could see Santa and tell him herself of her grievous error.
You are a good father. You may have saved the day. Or season. Or moment. Or whatever it is you are experiencing when you are 5.
However, I wanted to let you know something, in the gentlest way possible. Or remind you. Or point out. Or whatever might be the least offensive to you. When you are working hard, everyday, and cursing my station in life. When it is cold outside and your toes are frozen and aching to the point where you long for death. When you come home to find that we are eating ichiban and grilled cheese, again. When you run out of clean socks (which rarely happens since you have 263 pairs of them). When you find out I have watched an entire season of Friday Night Lights in one day whilst you were working. When you close your eyes tight and repeat three times "I wish I was her. I wish I was her. I wish I was her," only to open them and find yourself still at work and not at home, in your jammies, bons bons in one hand and a pepsi in the other.
I want you to remember one thing and one thing only.
I do all the Christmas shopping.
Every year.
All of it.
And because of my existence you are spared this particular nightmare.
It is my hope and dream for you that having this singular, most imperative nugget of information will make your days flow smoothly and without too much perturbation at what may appear to be a gross diverseness of our situations.
And remember, always, that I love you.
And sacrifice much for your happiness.
Yours always and forever,
Catherine
P.S. I bought my Christmas present from you today despite the fact that we have an unwritten rule not to exchange gifts.
I'm sorry and......
you're welcome.
C.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
on this night, this merry christmas night.
The 12 days of Christmas for our snow angel is going swimmingly. We almost got caught last night leaving the Turtle Doves outside their house. Amelia screams with glee as the boys ring the doorbell and run for their lives.
Good times.
We can't get enough of these guys around here. Children and Christmas go together like Diet Pepsi and popcorn.
11 days. No Christmas shopping done. Could be a problem.
Off to find three french hens now........
Good times.
We can't get enough of these guys around here. Children and Christmas go together like Diet Pepsi and popcorn.
11 days. No Christmas shopping done. Could be a problem.
Off to find three french hens now........
Monday, December 12, 2011
and so goes the cycle. part 2
Remember this?
Well.....since then lots has happened in relation to my beloved iPhone. My iPhone has lived the quite the exciting life. It has taken the most amazing adventures. All of them dangerous and possibly fatal. My iPhone is an adrenaline seeker and it takes chances with it's life that I would never take with my own.
Some people are like that.
Hmm? What was that? What did you say?
My iPhone is not a person? Oh mercy, I dare you to tell it that. It's smart like a person. And it can do things other persons can not do. Like google stuff. Can you google stuff? Not without google you can't.
My iPhone has google and you don't. So there.
It also has Angry Birds and can tell me what movie is playing where and what time at the drop of a hat.
Can you do that? That's what I thought.
So let's recap. The man fixed the screen but my phone was still wonky. The home button didn't work all the time until Jack dropped it on the floor. I yelled at him. But then it worked perfectly. So I apologized. And, I was in love all over again. My phone worked and everything in my little iPhone world was all hunky dory. But.....then...... I noticed the sounds didn't work.
No sound. Whatsoever.
Who cares. If someone calls they can leave a message and I'll call them back. If someone texts then I'll see it eventually.
I can live without sound. On my iPhone.
Then Amelia dropped it on the floor and the phone didn't work at all. People would call. I would say "hello? Hello? Hello?" And they would say "hello? Hello? Hello?" It was like we were talking but not really because we couldn't hear each other.
So the phone part of the iPhone doesn't work. That's really not a big deal........is it?
This morning I dropped it. Face down. The screen shattered. A big chunk fell out, exposing what looks to be very delicate features indeed.
It still works so I texted the man.
Me: I just dropped my phone and totally shattered the screen. If I wasn't irritating to you enough already, I certainly am now.
To which he responded: Thanks for the update.
To which I responded: I sense emotion that might not be totally love related.
To which he didn't respond.
See, he's been less than enthralled with me as of late. Don't know why. I think it has more to do with his abrasive personality than anything but try and tell him that?? Woooweeee........have mercy on my soul.
Want to know what I was doing right before I dropped my phone butter side down? I was taking this picture.
This is my clearance letter so I can donate blood. The nurse said it would take months so I shouldn't hold my breath. It took one month, which is opposite of how the world is supposed to work so not only am I confused but now my iPhone is broken. Again.
I booked an appointment for me and the man to donate blood in January. Maybe by then he'll like me again. And maybe also, I'll have the new iPhone.
With an armor on it that will be indestructible to the all the forces of good and evil that will inevitably try to destroy it.
Namely me.
Well.....since then lots has happened in relation to my beloved iPhone. My iPhone has lived the quite the exciting life. It has taken the most amazing adventures. All of them dangerous and possibly fatal. My iPhone is an adrenaline seeker and it takes chances with it's life that I would never take with my own.
Some people are like that.
Hmm? What was that? What did you say?
My iPhone is not a person? Oh mercy, I dare you to tell it that. It's smart like a person. And it can do things other persons can not do. Like google stuff. Can you google stuff? Not without google you can't.
My iPhone has google and you don't. So there.
It also has Angry Birds and can tell me what movie is playing where and what time at the drop of a hat.
Can you do that? That's what I thought.
So let's recap. The man fixed the screen but my phone was still wonky. The home button didn't work all the time until Jack dropped it on the floor. I yelled at him. But then it worked perfectly. So I apologized. And, I was in love all over again. My phone worked and everything in my little iPhone world was all hunky dory. But.....then...... I noticed the sounds didn't work.
No sound. Whatsoever.
Who cares. If someone calls they can leave a message and I'll call them back. If someone texts then I'll see it eventually.
I can live without sound. On my iPhone.
Then Amelia dropped it on the floor and the phone didn't work at all. People would call. I would say "hello? Hello? Hello?" And they would say "hello? Hello? Hello?" It was like we were talking but not really because we couldn't hear each other.
So the phone part of the iPhone doesn't work. That's really not a big deal........is it?
This morning I dropped it. Face down. The screen shattered. A big chunk fell out, exposing what looks to be very delicate features indeed.
It still works so I texted the man.
Me: I just dropped my phone and totally shattered the screen. If I wasn't irritating to you enough already, I certainly am now.
To which he responded: Thanks for the update.
To which I responded: I sense emotion that might not be totally love related.
To which he didn't respond.
See, he's been less than enthralled with me as of late. Don't know why. I think it has more to do with his abrasive personality than anything but try and tell him that?? Woooweeee........have mercy on my soul.
Want to know what I was doing right before I dropped my phone butter side down? I was taking this picture.
This is my clearance letter so I can donate blood. The nurse said it would take months so I shouldn't hold my breath. It took one month, which is opposite of how the world is supposed to work so not only am I confused but now my iPhone is broken. Again.
I booked an appointment for me and the man to donate blood in January. Maybe by then he'll like me again. And maybe also, I'll have the new iPhone.
With an armor on it that will be indestructible to the all the forces of good and evil that will inevitably try to destroy it.
Namely me.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
black wednesday
I am eating frozen cookies out of the freezer. I blame Black Wednesday.
Have you ever had a cookie right out of the freezer? Homemade?
It's not fair that anything frozen should taste that good.
Yesterday. December 7th, 2011. Black Wednesday.
Amelia lost her first tooth.
I don't want to talk about it. She did though. She talked about it endlessly. I thought I was going to get a call from her teacher asking that I either come and take her jabbering mouth away or bring a muzzle so people could get their work done. She was so happy. So it's all good, I guess.
Also, yesterday, I had a couple of run in's online with a guy in my city who drives me bananas. He's a radio guy, which I think in man language might be code for God's gift to everything that is all things and beyond.
Have an opinion dude, that's totally cool but don't be an ass about it. It can be done. I promise.
Also, what you think is not what everyone thinks and that is fine. It's the contrast of opinions that make the world rotate in such a balanced way. But when you are rude and disrespectful to other's and their opinions then you are something less than...... nice. Shall we say?
And also, also, just because you CAN be jerk doesn't mean you SHOULD be a jerk. Youknowwhatimean?
He blocked me from Twitter. Cause he's like that.
It's probably for the best. Now I can live the remainder of my days less irritated by his cowardice. And jerkiness.
And also, again, also, yesterday, Black Wednesday, I lost two followers on this here bloggie. Why does this irk me so? I don't have that many to begin with so losing two in ONE DAY is like........is like........
Sad.
I'm more like a duck than not like a duck. Things just roll off my back no problemo. It's what allows me to blog without too much emotion invested. You know? I really don't care what people think about me.
Usually.
But this blogging thing hits a different chord and every blogger knows what I'm talking about. It's different and I'm not going to get into all the things that make that statement true for me.
It just makes me look lame.
Which I might be. Keep it to yourself.
But two in one day? Ouch. Maybe I talk about poo too much. Some people don't like poo.
I guess.
Fare thee well followers. I loved you as best I could. And to the rest of you who come back day after day in support of poo and other sundries.......
I thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Tomorrow is Fondue Friday. Yes it is.
**Addendum: I would like to clarify something so not all radio personalities think I have a biased, prejudiced opinion towards them. I do not think ALL radio personalities are rude, arrogant, cocky, over opinionated people. I only think the rude, arrogant, cocky over opinionated ones are.
I hope that clears things up.
Have you ever had a cookie right out of the freezer? Homemade?
It's not fair that anything frozen should taste that good.
Yesterday. December 7th, 2011. Black Wednesday.
Amelia lost her first tooth.
I don't want to talk about it. She did though. She talked about it endlessly. I thought I was going to get a call from her teacher asking that I either come and take her jabbering mouth away or bring a muzzle so people could get their work done. She was so happy. So it's all good, I guess.
Also, yesterday, I had a couple of run in's online with a guy in my city who drives me bananas. He's a radio guy, which I think in man language might be code for God's gift to everything that is all things and beyond.
Have an opinion dude, that's totally cool but don't be an ass about it. It can be done. I promise.
Also, what you think is not what everyone thinks and that is fine. It's the contrast of opinions that make the world rotate in such a balanced way. But when you are rude and disrespectful to other's and their opinions then you are something less than...... nice. Shall we say?
And also, also, just because you CAN be jerk doesn't mean you SHOULD be a jerk. Youknowwhatimean?
He blocked me from Twitter. Cause he's like that.
It's probably for the best. Now I can live the remainder of my days less irritated by his cowardice. And jerkiness.
And also, again, also, yesterday, Black Wednesday, I lost two followers on this here bloggie. Why does this irk me so? I don't have that many to begin with so losing two in ONE DAY is like........is like........
Sad.
I'm more like a duck than not like a duck. Things just roll off my back no problemo. It's what allows me to blog without too much emotion invested. You know? I really don't care what people think about me.
Usually.
But this blogging thing hits a different chord and every blogger knows what I'm talking about. It's different and I'm not going to get into all the things that make that statement true for me.
It just makes me look lame.
Which I might be. Keep it to yourself.
But two in one day? Ouch. Maybe I talk about poo too much. Some people don't like poo.
I guess.
Fare thee well followers. I loved you as best I could. And to the rest of you who come back day after day in support of poo and other sundries.......
I thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Tomorrow is Fondue Friday. Yes it is.
**Addendum: I would like to clarify something so not all radio personalities think I have a biased, prejudiced opinion towards them. I do not think ALL radio personalities are rude, arrogant, cocky, over opinionated people. I only think the rude, arrogant, cocky over opinionated ones are.
I hope that clears things up.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
hello, my name is 'not me'.
There's a rogue hooligan that lives in my house. He's stealthy and fantastical. He confuses the masses and creates contention. He is masterful at his art. He lives to confound. His purpose is clear. Destroy destroy destroy.
His name is NotMe. He does, however, have many an alias which only aid him in the perfection of his evil craft.
NotMe.
A.K.A. IDidn'tDoIt.
A.K.A. IDon'tKnow
A.K.A. ItWasn'tMe
But the best one of all is 'IThinkItWasSoAndSo'. The name he uses whereby confusing the questioner into looking at someone other than him for blame. It is his coldest, most calculated name of all.
Me: Who left the bread out?
The Kids: NotMe.
Me: Blast that NotMe!
***************
Me: Who left the milk on the table to go sour?
The Kids: IDidn'tDoIt.
Me: Blast that IDidn'tDoIt!
********************
Me: Who farted?
The Kids: IDon'tKnow.
Me: Well tell him to stop before I gag!
***********************
Me: Who made this big mess and just left it for me to clean up?
NotMe: IThinkItWasHolden.
Holden: IDidn'tDoIt.
NotMe: Then IThinkItWasJack.
Jack: ItWasn'tMe.
Me: Then WHO DID IT?
The Kids: NotMe
Me: Why I oughtta.........
*******************
Me: How many times do I have to tell you guys to stop leaving poop in the toilet. Just flush the bloody thing. (I flush the bloody thing) See? How hard was that? (I stare everyone of them in the eye knowing that, if I try hard enough, my super sensory detective skills will unveil unto me the culprit.)
One by one they chant: ItWasn'tMe. ItWasn'tMe. ItWasn'tMe. ItWasn'tMe.
Me: Well then, who was it?
Them: IDon'tKnow. IDon'tKnow. IDon'tKnow. IDon'tKnow.
Me: I think you do know.
Them: NotMe. NotMe. NotMe. NotMe.
Me: (hands on hips. Stare is strong. Never. Back. Down.)
The Kids: IDidn'tDoIt. ItWasn'tMe. IDon'tKnow. NotMe.
Me: (hushed violent whisper meant to instill fear to their very cores) When I find this 'NotMe'....this 'IDidn'tDoIt'......this 'ItWasn'tMe'.....this 'IDon'tKnow'...... I'm going to bring him before you and make an example out of him. It won't be pretty. You won't like it. You may even cry. So if I was you, and I saw him lurking about in the shadows, I would tell that cowardly no good punk, who loves to wreak havoc amongst you little people of my womb, that he should head for the hills. Do you hear me? I will find him.
I will.
And he will rue the day he came here and took me on. And pooped without flushing. (My voice getting louder, aiming for the general air around me, meant for 'NotMe' to hear, wherever he may be.) Do you hear me? NotMe. Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you. That was a threat. Come on out!
Mmm hmmm. That's what I thought.
Chicken.
(I walk away leaving my spawn to their thoughts)
The Kids to each other: It was you, wasn't it?
IDidn'tDoit.
Then who did?
ItWasn'tMe.
Was it you?
IDon'tKnow.
Well, It Wasn't Me.
Was it you?
Nope, NotMe......
Fade out.
His name is NotMe. He does, however, have many an alias which only aid him in the perfection of his evil craft.
NotMe.
A.K.A. IDidn'tDoIt.
A.K.A. IDon'tKnow
A.K.A. ItWasn'tMe
But the best one of all is 'IThinkItWasSoAndSo'. The name he uses whereby confusing the questioner into looking at someone other than him for blame. It is his coldest, most calculated name of all.
Me: Who left the bread out?
The Kids: NotMe.
Me: Blast that NotMe!
***************
Me: Who left the milk on the table to go sour?
The Kids: IDidn'tDoIt.
Me: Blast that IDidn'tDoIt!
********************
Me: Who farted?
The Kids: IDon'tKnow.
Me: Well tell him to stop before I gag!
***********************
Me: Who made this big mess and just left it for me to clean up?
NotMe: IThinkItWasHolden.
Holden: IDidn'tDoIt.
NotMe: Then IThinkItWasJack.
Jack: ItWasn'tMe.
Me: Then WHO DID IT?
The Kids: NotMe
Me: Why I oughtta.........
*******************
Me: How many times do I have to tell you guys to stop leaving poop in the toilet. Just flush the bloody thing. (I flush the bloody thing) See? How hard was that? (I stare everyone of them in the eye knowing that, if I try hard enough, my super sensory detective skills will unveil unto me the culprit.)
One by one they chant: ItWasn'tMe. ItWasn'tMe. ItWasn'tMe. ItWasn'tMe.
Me: Well then, who was it?
Them: IDon'tKnow. IDon'tKnow. IDon'tKnow. IDon'tKnow.
Me: I think you do know.
Them: NotMe. NotMe. NotMe. NotMe.
Me: (hands on hips. Stare is strong. Never. Back. Down.)
The Kids: IDidn'tDoIt. ItWasn'tMe. IDon'tKnow. NotMe.
Me: (hushed violent whisper meant to instill fear to their very cores) When I find this 'NotMe'....this 'IDidn'tDoIt'......this 'ItWasn'tMe'.....this 'IDon'tKnow'...... I'm going to bring him before you and make an example out of him. It won't be pretty. You won't like it. You may even cry. So if I was you, and I saw him lurking about in the shadows, I would tell that cowardly no good punk, who loves to wreak havoc amongst you little people of my womb, that he should head for the hills. Do you hear me? I will find him.
I will.
And he will rue the day he came here and took me on. And pooped without flushing. (My voice getting louder, aiming for the general air around me, meant for 'NotMe' to hear, wherever he may be.) Do you hear me? NotMe. Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you. That was a threat. Come on out!
Mmm hmmm. That's what I thought.
Chicken.
(I walk away leaving my spawn to their thoughts)
The Kids to each other: It was you, wasn't it?
IDidn'tDoit.
Then who did?
ItWasn'tMe.
Was it you?
IDon'tKnow.
Well, It Wasn't Me.
Was it you?
Nope, NotMe......
Fade out.
Monday, December 5, 2011
TLC's all time low
This morning, on the way to school, I asked my kids what I should blog about today. Three of the four of them said The Virgin Diaries. The fourth said "me". I'll let you guess which of the four that was.
Me: The Virgin Diaries?
One of them: Yeah, you talked about it enough today.
Me: Well, honestly, you should have seen it. Well, no you shouldn't've, but I could tell you about the kissing at the end.
All of them: NO mom!!!!
Me: It was unreal. I feel like my eyeballs have been scorched. They were burning when I went to bed. I couldn't get to sleep because I couldn't stop thinking about the girl's father. He was a total pervert and said really inappropriate things.
Cicely: This conversation is inappropriate.
Me: It was horrific. I mean, what was she thinking? It was like she was eating his face.
Brief demonstration given by me. Appreciated by all.
Okay, not really.
Jack: Geez mom, you're grossing me out. Why do you watch that stuff? (he shuddered in his seat. Maybe I should have been an actress)
Me: Because if I don't keep up on the garbage they show on TLC I won't have anything to tell you Monday mornings. And Twitter would confuse me to death.
Cicely gave me a look that suggested I knock it off at that very moment or she may jump from a moving vehicle.
We wouldn't want that.
Amelia started to sing Jingle Bells and we drove in silence.
Me: You really should have seen it. I mean, who kisses like that? Isn't it supposed to be a natural thing? Do some people naturally have the urge to eat your face when they are kissing you? I feel trauma, people. Trauma.
It was at this point I noticed I was alone in the vehicle.
Me: Hey, where did everyone go? I wasn't done talking about my trauma.
Fickle. That's what they are. A bunch of fickle kids with no consideration for my poor nerves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We set up the tree yesterday. I put black ornaments on it to match my house. It didn't have the BANG I was looking for. It's hard to get a good picture of it.
Jack said it was EMO. Ummmm, okay?
Amelia put the star on top and asked "Does the star bring the Christmas tree joy? "
She's about to lose her first tooth and the devastation is hovering around me like a vulture looking for a place to land and devour the scraps of cute. How will I survive it? The end of cute is near.
Can you feel it?
Me: The Virgin Diaries?
One of them: Yeah, you talked about it enough today.
Me: Well, honestly, you should have seen it. Well, no you shouldn't've, but I could tell you about the kissing at the end.
All of them: NO mom!!!!
Me: It was unreal. I feel like my eyeballs have been scorched. They were burning when I went to bed. I couldn't get to sleep because I couldn't stop thinking about the girl's father. He was a total pervert and said really inappropriate things.
Cicely: This conversation is inappropriate.
Me: It was horrific. I mean, what was she thinking? It was like she was eating his face.
Brief demonstration given by me. Appreciated by all.
Okay, not really.
Jack: Geez mom, you're grossing me out. Why do you watch that stuff? (he shuddered in his seat. Maybe I should have been an actress)
Me: Because if I don't keep up on the garbage they show on TLC I won't have anything to tell you Monday mornings. And Twitter would confuse me to death.
Cicely gave me a look that suggested I knock it off at that very moment or she may jump from a moving vehicle.
We wouldn't want that.
Amelia started to sing Jingle Bells and we drove in silence.
Me: You really should have seen it. I mean, who kisses like that? Isn't it supposed to be a natural thing? Do some people naturally have the urge to eat your face when they are kissing you? I feel trauma, people. Trauma.
It was at this point I noticed I was alone in the vehicle.
Me: Hey, where did everyone go? I wasn't done talking about my trauma.
Fickle. That's what they are. A bunch of fickle kids with no consideration for my poor nerves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We set up the tree yesterday. I put black ornaments on it to match my house. It didn't have the BANG I was looking for. It's hard to get a good picture of it.
Jack said it was EMO. Ummmm, okay?
Amelia put the star on top and asked "Does the star bring the Christmas tree joy? "
She's about to lose her first tooth and the devastation is hovering around me like a vulture looking for a place to land and devour the scraps of cute. How will I survive it? The end of cute is near.
Can you feel it?
Thursday, December 1, 2011
the snow angel
There is a man who lives about 3 blocks away from me. He isn't an old man but he's a retired man. He is the type of man that has his youth, some money and lots and lots of time to kill. He has a beautiful home with lots of garages and in those garages he has toys. Toys that look like trucks and fancy cars and a cute little green and yellow snow plow.
When it snows he hops on his little green and yellow go-go machine and plows the snow on the sidewalk in front of his house. But he doesn't stop there. Oh no, not him, he keeps going and does the loop around the whole neighbourhood. He just motors on, around and around and around until the snow stops. And then he does one last loop, I assume for good measure.
In all my amazing good fortune, my house happens to be on that loop.
He shovels my walk. Now this doesn't affect me so much because I don't do shoveling. I am of the opinion some chores are for men and so I allow the man the opportunity to serve us by working full time AND shoveling our walk. I am gracious like that. It's just who I am, I can't help it.
But.....because the snow angel is who he is the man doesn't have to shovel either and when the man's job gets easier, my job gets easier and that is a win-win. Plus, it allows us more free time to feel the love.
And we choose to love the snow angel.
My last goal for 2011, can you believe a whole year has gone by since I started this little goaling journey? will be to have me and my family perform little acts of kindness for the snow angel and his family. I thought it would be fun to get everyone involved since it's Christmas an' all. Why not have all of us feel the cheery-like feelings that come when one is doing something nice and fun for someone else.
We are calling it 'the 12 days before christmas' because that's what it's called. For the 12 days before christmas we will be dropping off, anonymously of course, something sweet to eat with little notes of our appreciation for this family. Maybe they will have a Dr.Suess vibe to them since I have mad skills in that department. We will be ringing doorbells and running for our lives and laughing all the way. Ho ho ho.
I haven't quite figured it out yet but when I do I'll be sure to share. If you have ever done this before and have any good ideas pleasepleaseplease feel free to leave me a comment and tell me what it is. Or email me. Or facebook me. Or whatever.
It's going to be a fun month filled with baking goodies, lots of giggles and some seriously good times. A great way to end a great year.
Don'tyouthink?
When it snows he hops on his little green and yellow go-go machine and plows the snow on the sidewalk in front of his house. But he doesn't stop there. Oh no, not him, he keeps going and does the loop around the whole neighbourhood. He just motors on, around and around and around until the snow stops. And then he does one last loop, I assume for good measure.
In all my amazing good fortune, my house happens to be on that loop.
He shovels my walk. Now this doesn't affect me so much because I don't do shoveling. I am of the opinion some chores are for men and so I allow the man the opportunity to serve us by working full time AND shoveling our walk. I am gracious like that. It's just who I am, I can't help it.
But.....because the snow angel is who he is the man doesn't have to shovel either and when the man's job gets easier, my job gets easier and that is a win-win. Plus, it allows us more free time to feel the love.
And we choose to love the snow angel.
My last goal for 2011, can you believe a whole year has gone by since I started this little goaling journey? will be to have me and my family perform little acts of kindness for the snow angel and his family. I thought it would be fun to get everyone involved since it's Christmas an' all. Why not have all of us feel the cheery-like feelings that come when one is doing something nice and fun for someone else.
We are calling it 'the 12 days before christmas' because that's what it's called. For the 12 days before christmas we will be dropping off, anonymously of course, something sweet to eat with little notes of our appreciation for this family. Maybe they will have a Dr.Suess vibe to them since I have mad skills in that department. We will be ringing doorbells and running for our lives and laughing all the way. Ho ho ho.
I haven't quite figured it out yet but when I do I'll be sure to share. If you have ever done this before and have any good ideas pleasepleaseplease feel free to leave me a comment and tell me what it is. Or email me. Or facebook me. Or whatever.
It's going to be a fun month filled with baking goodies, lots of giggles and some seriously good times. A great way to end a great year.
Don'tyouthink?
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
my life in an update
Well, hello there November 30th. How you doin'?
Me? I'm doin' well. Thanks for asking.
Oh..... you weren't asking? All right then............
So I finished November's goal. A day early. And I'm pretty pumped about it. I did have a moment where I thought it wasn't going to get done. It was causing me some angst and I tend to retreat when I feel angst. I was ready to walk away, hang my head and admit defeat. But then yesterday came and my main character got all sassy and she found herself in big doodoo and her dad showed up and he was real angry-like and her mom and dad had another mongo doozy of a fight and mean words were said and she and her mom moved out and her dad started drinking himself to death and this was just one chapter.
Before I knew it I had written 5600 words and.......
voila!
Just like that I am a nanowrimo champion.
I should clarify something though. I did not write an entire novel in 30 days (well 29 but that's not the point). I wrote 50,000 words (well 50,118 but again, not the point) of a novel in that time. So, it's not done yet. It's almost done. I will finish it. I need to because the end isn't done and that's the part I wanted to write from the very beginning.
People die.....shhhhhhhh. It's a secret.
Anyway, today I have to get ready for the big Cub Christmas Craft. It's going to be .......... how do you say.......challenging?
I showed you what we were going to do but I needed to give it pizzazz. You know?
And by pizzazz I mean food.
So for family home evening Monday night we made some as a family. The prototype.
The chocolates were too heavy and pulled the centre paper all which way and back again. The clothespins were falling and pulling and it was a real pinterest nightmare. So we cut the centre out of cardboard, which fixed that wagon. But then the chocolates were falling off the clothespins because, again, they are too heavy and the two sided sticky things I had were from the dollar store because stuff is cheap at the dollar store and I have a meager budget. Like really skimpy. Anyway, they weren't sticky enough. Chocolates were falling all over the floor and I would yell things like "stop falling on the floor, I'm trying to write a book over here" and "I hate you stupid cheap dollar store two-sided sticky tabs!"
They weren't sticky enough. And it was irritating unto me. Shocker.
So the man suggested hot glue but my hot glue gun was malfunctioning. So the man went to the garage and got tools and I said a quick good bye to my already not working glue gun because we all know when the man shows up with tools a inanimate object funeral is imminent.
He took that $3 glue gun apart and made that sucker work. It's a good thing the man works pro bono because there was no way the time he spent fixing that piece of poop was worth it.
Anyway, we glued them and made them strong and then I cracked open a Diet Pepsi because it really had been quite the day.
And dinner was delicious too, I might add.
And then we watched Canada's Worst Driver. Do you watch that show? It really is something to behold.
Tomorrow I reveal December's goal. I'll give you two hints:
1. It will be lovely.
2. It involves this dude.....
Me? I'm doin' well. Thanks for asking.
Oh..... you weren't asking? All right then............
So I finished November's goal. A day early. And I'm pretty pumped about it. I did have a moment where I thought it wasn't going to get done. It was causing me some angst and I tend to retreat when I feel angst. I was ready to walk away, hang my head and admit defeat. But then yesterday came and my main character got all sassy and she found herself in big doodoo and her dad showed up and he was real angry-like and her mom and dad had another mongo doozy of a fight and mean words were said and she and her mom moved out and her dad started drinking himself to death and this was just one chapter.
Before I knew it I had written 5600 words and.......
voila!
Just like that I am a nanowrimo champion.
I should clarify something though. I did not write an entire novel in 30 days (well 29 but that's not the point). I wrote 50,000 words (well 50,118 but again, not the point) of a novel in that time. So, it's not done yet. It's almost done. I will finish it. I need to because the end isn't done and that's the part I wanted to write from the very beginning.
People die.....shhhhhhhh. It's a secret.
Anyway, today I have to get ready for the big Cub Christmas Craft. It's going to be .......... how do you say.......challenging?
I showed you what we were going to do but I needed to give it pizzazz. You know?
And by pizzazz I mean food.
So for family home evening Monday night we made some as a family. The prototype.
The chocolates were too heavy and pulled the centre paper all which way and back again. The clothespins were falling and pulling and it was a real pinterest nightmare. So we cut the centre out of cardboard, which fixed that wagon. But then the chocolates were falling off the clothespins because, again, they are too heavy and the two sided sticky things I had were from the dollar store because stuff is cheap at the dollar store and I have a meager budget. Like really skimpy. Anyway, they weren't sticky enough. Chocolates were falling all over the floor and I would yell things like "stop falling on the floor, I'm trying to write a book over here" and "I hate you stupid cheap dollar store two-sided sticky tabs!"
They weren't sticky enough. And it was irritating unto me. Shocker.
So the man suggested hot glue but my hot glue gun was malfunctioning. So the man went to the garage and got tools and I said a quick good bye to my already not working glue gun because we all know when the man shows up with tools a inanimate object funeral is imminent.
He took that $3 glue gun apart and made that sucker work. It's a good thing the man works pro bono because there was no way the time he spent fixing that piece of poop was worth it.
Anyway, we glued them and made them strong and then I cracked open a Diet Pepsi because it really had been quite the day.
And dinner was delicious too, I might add.
And then we watched Canada's Worst Driver. Do you watch that show? It really is something to behold.
Tomorrow I reveal December's goal. I'll give you two hints:
1. It will be lovely.
2. It involves this dude.....
Monday, November 28, 2011
a random assortment of me
It's Monday. Yesterday brought a crazy wind that gave me the shakes. Natural disasters might be my biggest fear. You can't win against the wind. Unless your superpower is fighting the wind. Which mine isn't. Mine involves fighting myself, which just so happens to be a full time job. I'm too busy to fight the wind.......
I heard crazy stories yesterday about the havoc the wind was wreaking. They even closed downtown. This tree is lying on the street by my house.
Crazy!
Speaking of downtown, I took three of the kids downtown to see a show on Saturday. The man suggested I take the c-train.
"The kids would love it," he said.
"You're right," I replied. "The kids would love it."
Huh? Hello, me. Have we met?
Two of them loved it but it's me who should have known better. What do I care if the kids are having fun? I sold my sanity for six dollars and twenty five cents.
Someone got a screaming deal. Let's just say construction in the downtown core made it so we had to get off the c-train and take a shuttle and walk to where we were going. It was fine though because the Calgary Tower is real tall-like and I could see it. The problem came when we got out of the show and I didn't know how to get back to wherever it was I needed to be. I am not public transit savvy. Nor do I ever care to be.
Jack said only podunk hobos take the c-train. I chastised him, explaining the concept of public transportation. I argued, endlessly, that he was wrong. And he is wrong but he's also right.
Purell, anyone?
I only had one plan. Take the train there and then take the train home again. I did not make room for concessions.
And to make matters worse, I wore really uncomfortable walking shoes.
Anyway, we worked it out. A one hour show took 4.5 hours to accomplish. No biggie.
"Lesson learned," says my aching feet.
****************
I'm under the gun people. I have 42,708 words written in my novel. I have only three days to finish. But...... I am also in charge of the Cub Christmas Craft on Wednesday night. There are 23 cubs and this is what we're doing.
We are also gluing Kisses to the back of every number otherwise they won't make it. There has to be incentive when you are a 10 year old boy. Food.
Thank-you Pinterest. I may have caught a glimpse of your value last week.
I have some punching out little white circles to do. Like 500-ish. And also.......some writing. Last week my book made me cry. Hard.
That's a good sign, right?
I heard crazy stories yesterday about the havoc the wind was wreaking. They even closed downtown. This tree is lying on the street by my house.
Crazy!
Speaking of downtown, I took three of the kids downtown to see a show on Saturday. The man suggested I take the c-train.
"The kids would love it," he said.
"You're right," I replied. "The kids would love it."
Huh? Hello, me. Have we met?
Two of them loved it but it's me who should have known better. What do I care if the kids are having fun? I sold my sanity for six dollars and twenty five cents.
Someone got a screaming deal. Let's just say construction in the downtown core made it so we had to get off the c-train and take a shuttle and walk to where we were going. It was fine though because the Calgary Tower is real tall-like and I could see it. The problem came when we got out of the show and I didn't know how to get back to wherever it was I needed to be. I am not public transit savvy. Nor do I ever care to be.
Jack said only podunk hobos take the c-train. I chastised him, explaining the concept of public transportation. I argued, endlessly, that he was wrong. And he is wrong but he's also right.
Purell, anyone?
I only had one plan. Take the train there and then take the train home again. I did not make room for concessions.
And to make matters worse, I wore really uncomfortable walking shoes.
Anyway, we worked it out. A one hour show took 4.5 hours to accomplish. No biggie.
"Lesson learned," says my aching feet.
****************
I'm under the gun people. I have 42,708 words written in my novel. I have only three days to finish. But...... I am also in charge of the Cub Christmas Craft on Wednesday night. There are 23 cubs and this is what we're doing.
We are also gluing Kisses to the back of every number otherwise they won't make it. There has to be incentive when you are a 10 year old boy. Food.
Thank-you Pinterest. I may have caught a glimpse of your value last week.
I have some punching out little white circles to do. Like 500-ish. And also.......some writing. Last week my book made me cry. Hard.
That's a good sign, right?
Friday, November 25, 2011
the plot: wreaking havoc
This post will be point form since I need to save my really good writing for my novel. Which is crap, by the way.
These are the things I know to be true in regards to writing a book, or the first 50,000 words of a book, in 30 days:
-my head hurts. A plethora of things are to blame. Chinook, endless reading and writing at the computer, kids who interrupt every 2 seconds, men who wake me up at 5:30 am with all their bed hogging and snuggling.
-men? I mean man. Just one man. The man. He is driving me bat crap crazy. I need my own bed.
-I am capable of procrastination in the most ingenious of forms. None of which include folding the laundry.
-the kids are digging through this daily and no one is complaining. So I'm going with it. It's all clean, what's there to whine about?
-I am 37,935 words into a book with a stellar beginning and a wicked ending and nothing in between. It literally is the book that went nowhere. Fast.
-actually, really slow. Painfully slow. I'm making it up as I go so it's a lot of blah blah blah blah............
-I should have taken typing 20 and 30 in high school. Yes, mother, you told me so.
-it's hard to know if what you are writing is any good when you are the one writing it. Youknowwhatimean? I see it like a movie in my head. It's as real as if I was there. But would you see it too if you were reading it? This must be what drives writers insane.
-I'm feeling a little insane.
-I have taken jammie day to a whole new level. And what is make-up? Someone remind me please.
-bra? Bra shma.
-I have practiced the piano more this month than I have in the last 4 years combined.
-my hips get achy and I need to walk around every two hours.
-time is flying. I only have 6 days to get 12,065 words written. They literally may be "blah blah blah blah" at the rate I'm going.
-writing makes me tired. Not hot yoga tired but a kind of tired that makes me stare at my couch in the middle of the day like a long lost lover who has finally returned to me. "Come to me" it beckons from across the room. It's hair blowing in the wind. "Fabio? Is that you?"
-I am all caught up on American Horror Story. I've been watching it online because the computer is right in front of me all the time. I love that show. Plus, it has the coach's wife in it. Her hair. Oh, her hair.
-It is possible, perfectly conceivable, quite literally probable, that I am eating myself to death.
-and there isn't enough Diet Pepsi.......... or Advil Liquigels, on the planet to reduce this chaos into something comprehendible.
-if I was a writer, an actual writer, I'd be that writer you'd talk about at dinner parties. The crazy one. The one you saw at Safeway in her jammies. The one who never washes her hair. The one who lives off ichiban and Diet Pepsi. The one who drank a 36 pack in 4 days. Now that's something to talk about. The one you wouldn't let your kids talk to or touch if you met me anywhere because "she's crazy, children. Stay away." There is a level of unkempt that can only be defined with the aid of a doctor. A straight jacket kind of doctor.
-I need a schedule. And not one that has a deadline.
-I have to stop now because I could do this all day. Plus it's making me anxious. And I have a deadline.
Toodles.
These are the things I know to be true in regards to writing a book, or the first 50,000 words of a book, in 30 days:
-my head hurts. A plethora of things are to blame. Chinook, endless reading and writing at the computer, kids who interrupt every 2 seconds, men who wake me up at 5:30 am with all their bed hogging and snuggling.
-men? I mean man. Just one man. The man. He is driving me bat crap crazy. I need my own bed.
-I am capable of procrastination in the most ingenious of forms. None of which include folding the laundry.
-the kids are digging through this daily and no one is complaining. So I'm going with it. It's all clean, what's there to whine about?
-I am 37,935 words into a book with a stellar beginning and a wicked ending and nothing in between. It literally is the book that went nowhere. Fast.
-actually, really slow. Painfully slow. I'm making it up as I go so it's a lot of blah blah blah blah............
-I should have taken typing 20 and 30 in high school. Yes, mother, you told me so.
-it's hard to know if what you are writing is any good when you are the one writing it. Youknowwhatimean? I see it like a movie in my head. It's as real as if I was there. But would you see it too if you were reading it? This must be what drives writers insane.
-I'm feeling a little insane.
-I have taken jammie day to a whole new level. And what is make-up? Someone remind me please.
-bra? Bra shma.
-I have practiced the piano more this month than I have in the last 4 years combined.
-my hips get achy and I need to walk around every two hours.
-time is flying. I only have 6 days to get 12,065 words written. They literally may be "blah blah blah blah" at the rate I'm going.
-writing makes me tired. Not hot yoga tired but a kind of tired that makes me stare at my couch in the middle of the day like a long lost lover who has finally returned to me. "Come to me" it beckons from across the room. It's hair blowing in the wind. "Fabio? Is that you?"
-I am all caught up on American Horror Story. I've been watching it online because the computer is right in front of me all the time. I love that show. Plus, it has the coach's wife in it. Her hair. Oh, her hair.
-It is possible, perfectly conceivable, quite literally probable, that I am eating myself to death.
-and there isn't enough Diet Pepsi.......... or Advil Liquigels, on the planet to reduce this chaos into something comprehendible.
-if I was a writer, an actual writer, I'd be that writer you'd talk about at dinner parties. The crazy one. The one you saw at Safeway in her jammies. The one who never washes her hair. The one who lives off ichiban and Diet Pepsi. The one who drank a 36 pack in 4 days. Now that's something to talk about. The one you wouldn't let your kids talk to or touch if you met me anywhere because "she's crazy, children. Stay away." There is a level of unkempt that can only be defined with the aid of a doctor. A straight jacket kind of doctor.
-I need a schedule. And not one that has a deadline.
-I have to stop now because I could do this all day. Plus it's making me anxious. And I have a deadline.
Toodles.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
if rudolph were from newfoundland
Yesterday I took part in a facebook debate between husband and wife. And really, who doesn't love to get in between a husband and wife conflict that is not their own? You can throw your opinion every which way knowing that your own personal doghouse will remain empty that night.
Love that.
The debate involves an age old song that over time may have lost some zest in terms of pronunciation.
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
As it was brought to my attention, one member of the couple insisted it was pronounced doff, the L being silent.
Oh for shame!
I sang it over and over. I was convinced, and remain still, the L was, in fact, pronounced and not silent. But..... maybe I was wrong.
Enter......the 'research'.
Yes, people, I like to know when I am doing something wrong. I could be walking around, year after year, singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with an L audible to all when, in fact, the L should be silent.
We are talking first world problems here. To a spectacular degree.
So I researched it. Even more so than what was being said on facebook.
Turns out the people who thought the L was silent are all from Newfoundland.
This is neither here nor there. Well, it may be more here than there but I'm not getting into it.
This is what I discovered in my extensive research on this most important matter.
1. This most confusing and not very helpful audio.
2. And this cha cha Q&A.
Cha cha is always right, isn't it. Didn't Ellen say that once on her show?
I'm sure there is more but what I have decided is that, in the spirit of Christmas and all that is gleeful singing and joyous reindeers, people should sing it how they want.
No one can tell the difference anyway.
So....... how do you sing it?
Now that the song is conveniently stuck somewhere in your right hemisphere, or maybe your left depending on whether or not you are from Newfoundland, are you feeling hungry?
Perhaps you should whip up some of this amazing soup. You know, for the carol festival you are sponsoring in your head right now.
My friend Sara gave me the recipe and I don't know where she got it from but holy mother of soup, it is the best soup I have ever had. And I can say with pride and astonishment that every single member of my annoyingly picky family loves it. Kale and all!
Yummy Potato and Italian Sausage Soup
RECIPE INGREDIENTS:
8 to 10 medium cleaned Idaho potatoes with skin on and cubed
2 lbs of mild Italian sausage, loose or links with the skin removed
3 ribs of celery, sliced length wise then diced
2 scallions (only) diced
1 large tablespoon of chopped garlic
1 litre of half & half
10 cups of chicken broth (sometimes I add more)
1 half package of Real Bacon Bits
1 package of cleaned and dried fresh spinach or Kale
1 container of fresh grated parmesan cheese( fresh kind only)
1/2 cup of flour
Seasonings:
1 teaspoon or 2 nice shakes of red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon of paprika
1 teaspoon of sea salt
DIRECTIONS
Brown sausage meat in a large pot. Drain. Add scallions, celery, bacon and garlic. Saute for a few minutes. Then add potatoes and 8 cups of chicken broth. Add paprika and red pepper flakes. Bring to a mild boil and turn down and simmer for 45 minutes to a hour or until potatoes are fork tender. Then slowly add the spinach or kale and work into soup, and simmer a couple more minutes. Mix the flour with the remaining broth and gradually add to the pot. It will not make it thick but it will add some body to broth...and finally stir in slowly the half and half (I used 3/4 of the quart). Salt to taste. Simmer a few minutes more and serve in bowls with a nice sprinkle of the fresh parmesan cheese.
The changes I personally made to it are:
-I use both fresh kale and spinach. I chop and add the kale to it when I add the potatoes and let it simmer. It never takes 45 minutes and I think that's because I use red potatoes because they are my favourite. I add the spinach towards the end.
-I use the entire litre of half and half.
-I skip the parmesan because I'm cheap and I don't really like parmesan. But mostly because I'm cheap.
-I also cook up a whole pound of bacon and chop that up to stick in the soup because I like bigger pieces of bacon and also because it's cheaper than buying the real bacon bits. And, as I may have already mentioned, I'm kind of cheap.
I prefer frugal but.......
Whatever.
Enjoy!
Love that.
The debate involves an age old song that over time may have lost some zest in terms of pronunciation.
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
As it was brought to my attention, one member of the couple insisted it was pronounced doff, the L being silent.
Oh for shame!
I sang it over and over. I was convinced, and remain still, the L was, in fact, pronounced and not silent. But..... maybe I was wrong.
Enter......the 'research'.
Yes, people, I like to know when I am doing something wrong. I could be walking around, year after year, singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with an L audible to all when, in fact, the L should be silent.
We are talking first world problems here. To a spectacular degree.
So I researched it. Even more so than what was being said on facebook.
Turns out the people who thought the L was silent are all from Newfoundland.
This is neither here nor there. Well, it may be more here than there but I'm not getting into it.
This is what I discovered in my extensive research on this most important matter.
1. This most confusing and not very helpful audio.
2. And this cha cha Q&A.
Cha cha is always right, isn't it. Didn't Ellen say that once on her show?
I'm sure there is more but what I have decided is that, in the spirit of Christmas and all that is gleeful singing and joyous reindeers, people should sing it how they want.
No one can tell the difference anyway.
So....... how do you sing it?
Now that the song is conveniently stuck somewhere in your right hemisphere, or maybe your left depending on whether or not you are from Newfoundland, are you feeling hungry?
Perhaps you should whip up some of this amazing soup. You know, for the carol festival you are sponsoring in your head right now.
My friend Sara gave me the recipe and I don't know where she got it from but holy mother of soup, it is the best soup I have ever had. And I can say with pride and astonishment that every single member of my annoyingly picky family loves it. Kale and all!
Yummy Potato and Italian Sausage Soup
RECIPE INGREDIENTS:
8 to 10 medium cleaned Idaho potatoes with skin on and cubed
2 lbs of mild Italian sausage, loose or links with the skin removed
3 ribs of celery, sliced length wise then diced
2 scallions (only) diced
1 large tablespoon of chopped garlic
1 litre of half & half
10 cups of chicken broth (sometimes I add more)
1 half package of Real Bacon Bits
1 package of cleaned and dried fresh spinach or Kale
1 container of fresh grated parmesan cheese( fresh kind only)
1/2 cup of flour
Seasonings:
1 teaspoon or 2 nice shakes of red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon of paprika
1 teaspoon of sea salt
DIRECTIONS
Brown sausage meat in a large pot. Drain. Add scallions, celery, bacon and garlic. Saute for a few minutes. Then add potatoes and 8 cups of chicken broth. Add paprika and red pepper flakes. Bring to a mild boil and turn down and simmer for 45 minutes to a hour or until potatoes are fork tender. Then slowly add the spinach or kale and work into soup, and simmer a couple more minutes. Mix the flour with the remaining broth and gradually add to the pot. It will not make it thick but it will add some body to broth...and finally stir in slowly the half and half (I used 3/4 of the quart). Salt to taste. Simmer a few minutes more and serve in bowls with a nice sprinkle of the fresh parmesan cheese.
The changes I personally made to it are:
-I use both fresh kale and spinach. I chop and add the kale to it when I add the potatoes and let it simmer. It never takes 45 minutes and I think that's because I use red potatoes because they are my favourite. I add the spinach towards the end.
-I use the entire litre of half and half.
-I skip the parmesan because I'm cheap and I don't really like parmesan. But mostly because I'm cheap.
-I also cook up a whole pound of bacon and chop that up to stick in the soup because I like bigger pieces of bacon and also because it's cheaper than buying the real bacon bits. And, as I may have already mentioned, I'm kind of cheap.
I prefer frugal but.......
Whatever.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
waxing nostalgic
Looking at old videos and pictures of my babies is creating in me some emotion.
I am waxing nostalgic.
Nostalgic for the olden days. Not the olden days like the days of Laura Ingalls. Just the olden days of me.
The days when my babies were being born. The days where I could pull a baby to my nose anytime I wanted and breathe him in. It was a never ending inhalation around here.
November seems to be a month of babies this year. They are coming all around me. I can smell them. I haven't even met them yet and I can smell them. It is scrumptious. The nostalgia is making me yearn.
Don't get carried away. This does not mean I want another baby. I know it doesn't. I wondered for a fraction of a second myself.
What is this? I pondered to myself. Do I want another one?
And then BOOM. Reality. No way. No way do I want to that again. No way do I want to put my body through that again. And my mind.
No way.
The other night I had a dream. I guess that is what sparked this internal discussion within me. The dream must have been prompted by all the babies being born in such a short time. And also by my eternal fear that my body will fail me and one day I will wake up and discover a life within. Every woman who knows her mind is done having babies has this dream.
Right?
The dream. It's the dream where I'm ‘late’ and I say things to myself like "this can't be happening" and "what are we going to do?" All the while rubbing my belly and just knowing in that womanly way we sometimes know things that there is a life inside. The dream turns into a nightmare when my husband says really unsupportive things like "everything will be okay" and "I guess we're going to have a baby" with a super fake and painfully forced smile on his face. There are visions of stabbing him in the eye.
Is that part just me? Oh……..
I can tell you I didn't wake up feeling happy from this dream. I was panicked and worried. I checked my calendar. Then I danced a dance designed to coax the gods of womanhood. To convince them that I am not a vessel for childbearing anymore. But instead, a museum. I am a museum of awesome that has all the indicators of the amazing abilities my femininity has allowed me. I needed to convince those gods that I was not a willing participant. My body does not approve. My time is done.
It was just a dream, I told myself when I awoke. No need to panic.
It was just a dream.
The feelings this dream has invoked within me are proof enough that I am only nostalgic and not in reality missing, or wanting, or needing a baby in my life.
Maybe the waxing nostalgic comes from remembering. A remembering of a time in my life where things were hard but steady. Hard in the work of birthing babies. Steady in the struggle of raising them. My waxing might come from remembering that I did that.
Me.
I did that.
I lived it and I came out the other side.
Times are different now. New hard things, new phases of my life. Mine and my children’s. A newness that presents challenges both difficult and scary.
If I look hard enough, strain my neck, squint my eyes, I can see the other side of this.
It's real pretty.
I am waxing nostalgic.
Nostalgic for the olden days. Not the olden days like the days of Laura Ingalls. Just the olden days of me.
The days when my babies were being born. The days where I could pull a baby to my nose anytime I wanted and breathe him in. It was a never ending inhalation around here.
November seems to be a month of babies this year. They are coming all around me. I can smell them. I haven't even met them yet and I can smell them. It is scrumptious. The nostalgia is making me yearn.
Don't get carried away. This does not mean I want another baby. I know it doesn't. I wondered for a fraction of a second myself.
What is this? I pondered to myself. Do I want another one?
And then BOOM. Reality. No way. No way do I want to that again. No way do I want to put my body through that again. And my mind.
No way.
The other night I had a dream. I guess that is what sparked this internal discussion within me. The dream must have been prompted by all the babies being born in such a short time. And also by my eternal fear that my body will fail me and one day I will wake up and discover a life within. Every woman who knows her mind is done having babies has this dream.
Right?
The dream. It's the dream where I'm ‘late’ and I say things to myself like "this can't be happening" and "what are we going to do?" All the while rubbing my belly and just knowing in that womanly way we sometimes know things that there is a life inside. The dream turns into a nightmare when my husband says really unsupportive things like "everything will be okay" and "I guess we're going to have a baby" with a super fake and painfully forced smile on his face. There are visions of stabbing him in the eye.
Is that part just me? Oh……..
I can tell you I didn't wake up feeling happy from this dream. I was panicked and worried. I checked my calendar. Then I danced a dance designed to coax the gods of womanhood. To convince them that I am not a vessel for childbearing anymore. But instead, a museum. I am a museum of awesome that has all the indicators of the amazing abilities my femininity has allowed me. I needed to convince those gods that I was not a willing participant. My body does not approve. My time is done.
It was just a dream, I told myself when I awoke. No need to panic.
It was just a dream.
The feelings this dream has invoked within me are proof enough that I am only nostalgic and not in reality missing, or wanting, or needing a baby in my life.
Maybe the waxing nostalgic comes from remembering. A remembering of a time in my life where things were hard but steady. Hard in the work of birthing babies. Steady in the struggle of raising them. My waxing might come from remembering that I did that.
Me.
I did that.
I lived it and I came out the other side.
Times are different now. New hard things, new phases of my life. Mine and my children’s. A newness that presents challenges both difficult and scary.
If I look hard enough, strain my neck, squint my eyes, I can see the other side of this.
It's real pretty.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
take backsies
Remember when I trashed on twitter?
I was wrong.
I am deeply sorry.
I #heart twitter.
@Twitter be dope, yo.
Thought you should know when I admit how shamefully wrong I am.
Tweet me sometime. Maybe we could be facebook friends.
Wait....what??
I need to go to bed now.
Good night my peeps I mean, tweeps, or twits, or fb friends, or....... who are you again?
I was wrong.
I am deeply sorry.
I #heart twitter.
@Twitter be dope, yo.
Thought you should know when I admit how shamefully wrong I am.
Tweet me sometime. Maybe we could be facebook friends.
Wait....what??
I need to go to bed now.
Good night my peeps I mean, tweeps, or twits, or fb friends, or....... who are you again?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
seemedly, I am fustrated........
Yesterday I wanted to blog a little sumpin' for your lovely eyes. But seeing as how I was over 6000 words behind on my book I needed to do that instead. Four day weekends with 4 kids will kill a certain momentum, youknowwhatimean? So...... I needed a day to catch up.
I almost did catch up but then, all of a sudden, I couldn't see straight anymore and I started making up words. This is when I figured that not only should I stop but I should probably not bother mashing words together on my blog either.
I started making up words. Well, it was one word and I didn't know I was making it up. I thought it was a real word but the little red line kept telling me no.
I hate it when the computer is wrong and I am right, I thought to myself. So I googled it. Nothing. So I dictionary.com'd it. No results found.
Well, what the heck??? Seemedly was surely a word. I tried hard to prove it. But to no avail. Here's the sentence I wanted to put it in:
"And seemedly more in control of his temper than I would have given him credit for."
I was perplexed. What happened to the word seemedly? Did someone remove it from the dictionary because they hate me?
Well, I never. I had to remove it from my almost New York Times Best Seller and insert seemingly instead.
Because apparently, seemingly is a real word. Seemingly. Pfft. Whatever.
Who can I email to get my word made into an official word? I want copyrights.
People use words all the time that are a total crock of madeupedness. But because they are oblivious to their own ignorance (and I mean that in the nicest possible way) they get to spew those freely out into the universe.
How is that fair?
Here are a few examples for you to consider incorporating into your everyday vocabulary. I will give you the word and then give you a highly intelligent sentence as an example.
Acrossed. As in "He was acrossed the street." Nope, sorry, not a word. Not in any context whatsoever.
Fustrated. As in "I feel fustrated when people don't speak real good. Y'know?" Come on now y'all. Come on.......
Supposably. As in "Supposably he's a Rhodes Scholar. Hmmmmm, I wonder why I'm not." Don't quote me on this but I think it supposably has something to do with the people who love you not telling you the truth. Or something like that.
Actually, I think we can blame that one on spell check since it doesn't recognize the word as being UTTERLY and ridiculously wrong!
Irregardless. As in "Irregardless of what people try and tell me I don't believe in redundancy."
Don't even get me started on the whole controversy surrounding the to/two/too epidemic and the plague what is they're/there/their. What about the fact that yesterday does not have a U in it and that definitely is spelled wrong 97% of the time. Yes it most definitely does not have an A in it.
For the love of all that is good grammar and spelling correctness someone teach the people!
So back to my point. I want seemedly to become a word. I believe it makes sense and I like the way it flows from my tongue.
I wrote this post late last night so I could post this morning and still get another 6000 word day in on my book.
I seemedly have my priorities straight.
See what I mean? It's a word.
I almost did catch up but then, all of a sudden, I couldn't see straight anymore and I started making up words. This is when I figured that not only should I stop but I should probably not bother mashing words together on my blog either.
I started making up words. Well, it was one word and I didn't know I was making it up. I thought it was a real word but the little red line kept telling me no.
I hate it when the computer is wrong and I am right, I thought to myself. So I googled it. Nothing. So I dictionary.com'd it. No results found.
Well, what the heck??? Seemedly was surely a word. I tried hard to prove it. But to no avail. Here's the sentence I wanted to put it in:
"And seemedly more in control of his temper than I would have given him credit for."
I was perplexed. What happened to the word seemedly? Did someone remove it from the dictionary because they hate me?
Well, I never. I had to remove it from my almost New York Times Best Seller and insert seemingly instead.
Because apparently, seemingly is a real word. Seemingly. Pfft. Whatever.
Who can I email to get my word made into an official word? I want copyrights.
People use words all the time that are a total crock of madeupedness. But because they are oblivious to their own ignorance (and I mean that in the nicest possible way) they get to spew those freely out into the universe.
How is that fair?
Here are a few examples for you to consider incorporating into your everyday vocabulary. I will give you the word and then give you a highly intelligent sentence as an example.
Acrossed. As in "He was acrossed the street." Nope, sorry, not a word. Not in any context whatsoever.
Fustrated. As in "I feel fustrated when people don't speak real good. Y'know?" Come on now y'all. Come on.......
Supposably. As in "Supposably he's a Rhodes Scholar. Hmmmmm, I wonder why I'm not." Don't quote me on this but I think it supposably has something to do with the people who love you not telling you the truth. Or something like that.
Actually, I think we can blame that one on spell check since it doesn't recognize the word as being UTTERLY and ridiculously wrong!
Irregardless. As in "Irregardless of what people try and tell me I don't believe in redundancy."
Don't even get me started on the whole controversy surrounding the to/two/too epidemic and the plague what is they're/there/their. What about the fact that yesterday does not have a U in it and that definitely is spelled wrong 97% of the time. Yes it most definitely does not have an A in it.
For the love of all that is good grammar and spelling correctness someone teach the people!
So back to my point. I want seemedly to become a word. I believe it makes sense and I like the way it flows from my tongue.
I wrote this post late last night so I could post this morning and still get another 6000 word day in on my book.
I seemedly have my priorities straight.
See what I mean? It's a word.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
where have all the babies gone?
Amelia is at that stage where she just wants to write everything down. She wants to make lists and write love letters.... to me, of course. She wants to read books and copy them out. She wants to write write write.
Mommy, how do you spell.......? Is what I hear numerous times a day. I'll bet a bazillion times, at least.
And the list of words I have spelled for her over the last three months is endless.
She is almost at the end of her cute and almost into the real person phase of life. You know what I'm talking about, right? The phase where they make plans that don't involve me anymore. The phase where they say things like "Well, my teacher said...." and I start to feel like a second class citizen. The phase where I have to start with the whole "guiding and directing" part of child rearing as opposed to the "they are right under my thumb and therefore I have a lot of control they don't know about" kind of child rearing.
It was always fine when the one of the children started to grow up because there was always someone younger to coddle, snuggle, squeeze and control...... I mean love.
But soon all of them will be 'big' and there will be no more 'little' and.......
................ I am growing up.
Where have all my babies gone?
Mommy, how do you spell.......? Is what I hear numerous times a day. I'll bet a bazillion times, at least.
And the list of words I have spelled for her over the last three months is endless.
She is almost at the end of her cute and almost into the real person phase of life. You know what I'm talking about, right? The phase where they make plans that don't involve me anymore. The phase where they say things like "Well, my teacher said...." and I start to feel like a second class citizen. The phase where I have to start with the whole "guiding and directing" part of child rearing as opposed to the "they are right under my thumb and therefore I have a lot of control they don't know about" kind of child rearing.
It was always fine when the one of the children started to grow up because there was always someone younger to coddle, snuggle, squeeze and control...... I mean love.
But soon all of them will be 'big' and there will be no more 'little' and.......
................ I am growing up.
Where have all my babies gone?
Thursday, November 10, 2011
it was an accident, i swear
So I woke up a bit of a train wreck this morning. Just a little wreck though, nothing traffic stopping.
Look away! Look away!
I woke early, at 4:15, and I knew that my little blue lover was not fulfilling it's purpose. Sometimes it does that. Sometimes I pop the pill and it's like my doctor has slipped a placebo in there. If that's true then she did that on purpose because, well, she's like that.
Anyways, I suspected last night would be rough when an hour after I took it I was still staring up at the ceiling WIDE WAKE.
Why am I talking about this again? I didn't mean to, I swear. This is what happens when I'm tired. I talk....endlessly. And with no point. I do apologize.
No, actually, I don't. This is my blog so..........
After I started speaking to my people this morning I knew that I was officially cranky and therefore warned the masses. They ignored all warnings and walked straight towards the fiery wreck.
At this point I am not responsible for what happens to them. I did warn them. It's not my fault if they burn up in my wrath.
Just kidding. I don't have wrath.
Half way to school I adjusted the mirror so I could see Amelia's eyes. I wanted to teach her a little something about herself when, what do I behold? She is proving my point all over the place. See.....she was upset that she had forgotten her Canada flag at home, she wanted it for the Remembrance Day assembly today. The same assembly I am not going to because I "have really important things I need to do." The children don't know that I actually don't have anything 'important' to do. And no one needs to tell them. Youhearme?
Come on now! I can't be the only mom who 'doesn't do assemblies'.
Back to the wee child. I had asked her to put the flag in her back pack or else she would forget it because that's what she does. Naturally though, she ignored my stellar parental advice because that is ALSO what she does.
When she announced in the truck that she had forgotten it, I lowered the rearview mirror to see her sweet, sad eyes and hopefully teach her a little self awareness. This is when I noticed she wasn't wearing a coat.
I had to halt all talk about awareness....
"Where is your coat, young lady?"
"Ummm...."
...... because what kind of teacher/parent/grown up would I be if I pointed out to her that she should have just put the stupid flag in the back pack when I suggested it while the whole time I am preaching my preach she is sitting there in 2 degree weather with NO COAT ON?
Never you mind.
Last night I went to the Calgary Herald launch party for their new local blogger page of their online newspaper.
(Every time I try and type the word blogger I type blooger instead and have to fix it. Interesting.....)
Anyway, I was invited and I went and isn't that exciting? It was a fancy night, with fancy food, and fancy people from the Calgary Herald. They were wearing suits and dresses and stuff.
Here's the link: http://www.calgaryherald.com/opinion/calgary-bloggers/index.html
It was an open bar. This is good news for two reasons. First of all, I didn't bring any cash and I was concerned that I'd have to go all night without a diet cola. But I didn't have to worry about it. That's how fancy it was.
Second, when I turned to my table, after watching a presenter, and took a ginormous sip of someone's alcoholic beverage by accident, because his glass was where my glass originally had been which had obviously (it's obvious now) been taken away by the wait staff who were so very efficient at their jobs, and just about barfed all over the table that person didn't need to be upset with me because he could just replace it for free. And isn't that great?
Yes, that was a run on sentence. Whatsyourpoint?
Which, when all was said and done, I see now that I should have just spit it back into the cup, instead of swallowing it, because !!seriously!! how does anyone drink that stuff? I thought it was poison. Imagine my shock when I thought it was my Diet Coke and it WAS NOT!!!
Gross. Ewww. Splat. Ick. Hiccup. Well I never......
So anyway. I felt defiled. And poisoned. Ugh.
It's the 10th today which means there are 7 days left in this never ending contest. And really, I am just sick of asking. It annoys me to be so beggy so I can only imagine how annoyed you all must be.
I may not ask anymore after today......... we'll see.
Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs
Go vote, if you feel so inclined.
For me....obviously.
As of tomorrow I will have four days with the kids home. All day. Everyday. How ever am I supposed to be a serious author with all the raucousness that is the roofers and now the children.
Oy vey......
I have almost 16,000 words of my book written which leaves me a tad behind but not too much.
Hmmmm....... maybe I should kill someone off today. That'd be fun. No?
Look away! Look away!
I woke early, at 4:15, and I knew that my little blue lover was not fulfilling it's purpose. Sometimes it does that. Sometimes I pop the pill and it's like my doctor has slipped a placebo in there. If that's true then she did that on purpose because, well, she's like that.
Anyways, I suspected last night would be rough when an hour after I took it I was still staring up at the ceiling WIDE WAKE.
Why am I talking about this again? I didn't mean to, I swear. This is what happens when I'm tired. I talk....endlessly. And with no point. I do apologize.
No, actually, I don't. This is my blog so..........
After I started speaking to my people this morning I knew that I was officially cranky and therefore warned the masses. They ignored all warnings and walked straight towards the fiery wreck.
At this point I am not responsible for what happens to them. I did warn them. It's not my fault if they burn up in my wrath.
Just kidding. I don't have wrath.
Half way to school I adjusted the mirror so I could see Amelia's eyes. I wanted to teach her a little something about herself when, what do I behold? She is proving my point all over the place. See.....she was upset that she had forgotten her Canada flag at home, she wanted it for the Remembrance Day assembly today. The same assembly I am not going to because I "have really important things I need to do." The children don't know that I actually don't have anything 'important' to do. And no one needs to tell them. Youhearme?
Come on now! I can't be the only mom who 'doesn't do assemblies'.
Back to the wee child. I had asked her to put the flag in her back pack or else she would forget it because that's what she does. Naturally though, she ignored my stellar parental advice because that is ALSO what she does.
When she announced in the truck that she had forgotten it, I lowered the rearview mirror to see her sweet, sad eyes and hopefully teach her a little self awareness. This is when I noticed she wasn't wearing a coat.
I had to halt all talk about awareness....
"Where is your coat, young lady?"
"Ummm...."
...... because what kind of teacher/parent/grown up would I be if I pointed out to her that she should have just put the stupid flag in the back pack when I suggested it while the whole time I am preaching my preach she is sitting there in 2 degree weather with NO COAT ON?
Never you mind.
Last night I went to the Calgary Herald launch party for their new local blogger page of their online newspaper.
(Every time I try and type the word blogger I type blooger instead and have to fix it. Interesting.....)
Anyway, I was invited and I went and isn't that exciting? It was a fancy night, with fancy food, and fancy people from the Calgary Herald. They were wearing suits and dresses and stuff.
Here's the link: http://www.calgaryherald.com/opinion/calgary-bloggers/index.html
It was an open bar. This is good news for two reasons. First of all, I didn't bring any cash and I was concerned that I'd have to go all night without a diet cola. But I didn't have to worry about it. That's how fancy it was.
Second, when I turned to my table, after watching a presenter, and took a ginormous sip of someone's alcoholic beverage by accident, because his glass was where my glass originally had been which had obviously (it's obvious now) been taken away by the wait staff who were so very efficient at their jobs, and just about barfed all over the table that person didn't need to be upset with me because he could just replace it for free. And isn't that great?
Yes, that was a run on sentence. Whatsyourpoint?
Which, when all was said and done, I see now that I should have just spit it back into the cup, instead of swallowing it, because !!seriously!! how does anyone drink that stuff? I thought it was poison. Imagine my shock when I thought it was my Diet Coke and it WAS NOT!!!
Gross. Ewww. Splat. Ick. Hiccup. Well I never......
So anyway. I felt defiled. And poisoned. Ugh.
It's the 10th today which means there are 7 days left in this never ending contest. And really, I am just sick of asking. It annoys me to be so beggy so I can only imagine how annoyed you all must be.
I may not ask anymore after today......... we'll see.
Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs
Go vote, if you feel so inclined.
For me....obviously.
As of tomorrow I will have four days with the kids home. All day. Everyday. How ever am I supposed to be a serious author with all the raucousness that is the roofers and now the children.
Oy vey......
I have almost 16,000 words of my book written which leaves me a tad behind but not too much.
Hmmmm....... maybe I should kill someone off today. That'd be fun. No?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
anxiety
Anxiety is always changing around here. Before we started the reno I didn't have much anxiety. Except PMS, of course. My doctor told me PMS was a form of depression and anxiety and that I should be preparing myself for the day when I either suffer from depression on a regular basis or anxiety to such an extreme that I may have to do more than what I am doing to control it. I don't see the depression being a problem, I really don't. But the anxiety? Oh yeah, me and anxiety.....we're tight.
I take my doctor with a grain of salt. She's great but she's a pessimist. I really like her though, she's smart and funny. She's thorough and she listens to me. This is important to me. She listens. When I go in and I tell her I am losing my mind she listens and does whatever I want her to do plus anything else she may deem necessary.
She's a bit of a pill pusher though so I tread lightly. Actually one time I went to see her because I was going on a trip and I was terrified of all the airplanes we were going on. The trip was a week away and I was already losing sleep. I went for the specific purpose of getting drugs. The kind of drugs that keep me from turning all crazy-like on the airplane forcing the pilot to make an emergency landing in the middle of the ocean. Which would induce in me a whole new level of psychosis. Landing in the ocean? Holy crap, can you imagine it? Excuse me while I breathe into a brown paper bag.
My doctor always asks me about my life and how many kids I have now and are there any foster kids and so on and so forth. When I updated her about my life she asked me if there was anything else I wanted. Like, say, valium?
Oh that woman, she is my temptress.
I said no, by the way.
Anyway, the reno or Willacy, as I like to call it, added a level of anxiety to my life that I don't particularly care for. This level of anxiety has introduced me to chronic insomnia. Chronic insomnia brings out in me, an already emotional type human being, a new level of emotion that rears it's ugly head at the strangest of times.
The longer this house is for sale the more my anxiety and I become intimately acquainted. I've been trying to break up with it but I fear it's a bit of a stalker, youknowwhatimean?
I'm doing research into the current stalker laws but...........
Fruitless.
Wanna see what my anxiety looks like right now?
It looks like the old roof lying all over the exterior of my house. It looks like dust and dirt and little itty bitty pebbles and bits of tar and bigger bits of tar and it's even hanging in my neighbours tree.
My latest anxiety sounds like this:
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG! As they replace the old with the new.
What was that? Did you just ask me a question? Well sorry, but I can't hear you. BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
Light fixtures are falling from the sockets and I hear banging in my medically induced sleep.
Today they are putting 'torch on' on the roof. This involves a blow torch which is just a fancy way of saying fire. My anxiety is mutating by the second.
We just hit 9 months with the house being on the market. Is there a pharmaceutical I can take for that?
The other day the man came down off the roof to take a wee break from all the banging and enjoyed a plate of tater tots with the kids.
When I asked him why he was eating with chopsticks he said he was being sophisticated.
Yep.
Speaking of sophisticated. Wouldn't it be super sophisticated of me to place in the top three in this contest I am in? I am holding #4 right now but I'm over a hundred votes away from #3. This simply will not do people. No no no. In the interest of saving my sanity I do declare you must go vote for me.
GO VOTE NOW! Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs
******
I take my doctor with a grain of salt. She's great but she's a pessimist. I really like her though, she's smart and funny. She's thorough and she listens to me. This is important to me. She listens. When I go in and I tell her I am losing my mind she listens and does whatever I want her to do plus anything else she may deem necessary.
She's a bit of a pill pusher though so I tread lightly. Actually one time I went to see her because I was going on a trip and I was terrified of all the airplanes we were going on. The trip was a week away and I was already losing sleep. I went for the specific purpose of getting drugs. The kind of drugs that keep me from turning all crazy-like on the airplane forcing the pilot to make an emergency landing in the middle of the ocean. Which would induce in me a whole new level of psychosis. Landing in the ocean? Holy crap, can you imagine it? Excuse me while I breathe into a brown paper bag.
My doctor always asks me about my life and how many kids I have now and are there any foster kids and so on and so forth. When I updated her about my life she asked me if there was anything else I wanted. Like, say, valium?
Oh that woman, she is my temptress.
I said no, by the way.
Anyway, the reno or Willacy, as I like to call it, added a level of anxiety to my life that I don't particularly care for. This level of anxiety has introduced me to chronic insomnia. Chronic insomnia brings out in me, an already emotional type human being, a new level of emotion that rears it's ugly head at the strangest of times.
The longer this house is for sale the more my anxiety and I become intimately acquainted. I've been trying to break up with it but I fear it's a bit of a stalker, youknowwhatimean?
I'm doing research into the current stalker laws but...........
Fruitless.
Wanna see what my anxiety looks like right now?
It looks like the old roof lying all over the exterior of my house. It looks like dust and dirt and little itty bitty pebbles and bits of tar and bigger bits of tar and it's even hanging in my neighbours tree.
My latest anxiety sounds like this:
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG! As they replace the old with the new.
What was that? Did you just ask me a question? Well sorry, but I can't hear you. BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
Light fixtures are falling from the sockets and I hear banging in my medically induced sleep.
Today they are putting 'torch on' on the roof. This involves a blow torch which is just a fancy way of saying fire. My anxiety is mutating by the second.
We just hit 9 months with the house being on the market. Is there a pharmaceutical I can take for that?
The other day the man came down off the roof to take a wee break from all the banging and enjoyed a plate of tater tots with the kids.
When I asked him why he was eating with chopsticks he said he was being sophisticated.
Yep.
Speaking of sophisticated. Wouldn't it be super sophisticated of me to place in the top three in this contest I am in? I am holding #4 right now but I'm over a hundred votes away from #3. This simply will not do people. No no no. In the interest of saving my sanity I do declare you must go vote for me.
GO VOTE NOW! Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs
******
Sunday, November 6, 2011
and the winner is..........
The Divine Ms. M!
Congrats. You have won the 5 free hot yoga class pass at Breath Hot yoga.
I will get in touch with you.
Congrats. You have won the 5 free hot yoga class pass at Breath Hot yoga.
I will get in touch with you.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
christmas wish list and a little bit o' poo
So the Holts catalogue came in the mail which is such a relief because I was stumped as to what I wanted for Christmas. Could not, for the life of me, think of what to ask for. This catalogue just makes everything so much easier.
Youknowwhatimean?
I am torn, however, between the Dior watch for $10,350 and the.......
the Chiclet bracelet for $4410
The prices are on opposite ends of the spectrum, I realize. I guess we'll see what the budget allows.
Strangely, at this point, I am feeling an urge to pay homage to Kim Kardashian. How could anything that seemed so right go so wrong? But I feel as though she might be receiving too much negative attention in the media. I wouldn't want what I have to say to be misconstrued so I think I'll step away.
Anyway, last night was this event and I was so excited to go. I harassed you and begged you and basically made you feel like poo if you didn't participate. I got all gussied up and made someone else drive me there only to be turned away after an intensive discussion regarding my previous heart issues. The nurse told me that 47 years of doing what she does and she'd never been faced with a condition like mine.
I felt so special.
Whatever. She checked with the head nurse, who also said no, and then we filled out paper work to be sent to my cardiologist. Hopefully in a few months time I will be cleared and be able to donate with my very own special permission letter.
I couldn't donate and now I feel like a piece of poo.
We went out for dinner after and it was still a great night out and I look forward to doing it again. And next time I will be bleeding into a tube. If not, I will be eternally devastated.
Isn't this a sad story? If you feel bad for me then you should feel free to go vote for me to brighten this otherwise less bright day. Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. In fact, you can vote from every apparatus in your house or on your person. Which is simply awesome, no?
And by the way, if you have voted for me I love you. If you have voted for me more than once I owe you big time. Perhaps my 5th born?
And there is still time to throw your name in the hat for the giveaway.
Youknowwhatimean?
I am torn, however, between the Dior watch for $10,350 and the.......
the Chiclet bracelet for $4410
The prices are on opposite ends of the spectrum, I realize. I guess we'll see what the budget allows.
Strangely, at this point, I am feeling an urge to pay homage to Kim Kardashian. How could anything that seemed so right go so wrong? But I feel as though she might be receiving too much negative attention in the media. I wouldn't want what I have to say to be misconstrued so I think I'll step away.
Anyway, last night was this event and I was so excited to go. I harassed you and begged you and basically made you feel like poo if you didn't participate. I got all gussied up and made someone else drive me there only to be turned away after an intensive discussion regarding my previous heart issues. The nurse told me that 47 years of doing what she does and she'd never been faced with a condition like mine.
I felt so special.
Whatever. She checked with the head nurse, who also said no, and then we filled out paper work to be sent to my cardiologist. Hopefully in a few months time I will be cleared and be able to donate with my very own special permission letter.
I couldn't donate and now I feel like a piece of poo.
We went out for dinner after and it was still a great night out and I look forward to doing it again. And next time I will be bleeding into a tube. If not, I will be eternally devastated.
Isn't this a sad story? If you feel bad for me then you should feel free to go vote for me to brighten this otherwise less bright day. Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. In fact, you can vote from every apparatus in your house or on your person. Which is simply awesome, no?
And by the way, if you have voted for me I love you. If you have voted for me more than once I owe you big time. Perhaps my 5th born?
And there is still time to throw your name in the hat for the giveaway.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
dr.suess was an amateur
Here is an excerpt from my new book. Tell me what you think.
On Monday, the little one woke warm, with emotion.
She said "my stomachs' not well, it's like a rough ocean."
Her forehead was hot and her fever ran high.
We sent the others off to school, good-bye.
It was just her and me for days to come.
Just her and me and medications some.
I do not like it when she is sick
I do not like it. Not one lick.
It hurts my heart and leaves me hopeless
I can't fix it and I wish for mope-less
Besides that point it infringes on me
But that doesn't matter, it's about her, you see.
I had things to do both in and out
Things to do that are not about
being sick with sore throats and fevers galore
But instead about haircuts and plenty more.
The little one cried and whined and fussed.
She looked disheveled, her hair a-mussed.
Her throat was on fire, her cheeks were red.
I medicated and medicated and put her to bed.
On Halloween night we ventured out
And walked and walked with nary a pout
The little one was tired but walked longer still
She pressed on bravely 'cause her friends weren't ill.
She wanted her fair share and who could blame her?
She exclaimed,"This is the best holiday EVER!"
Four days off school so far but we'll see
When I told her "fever is broken" - glee!
She asked if she could go back to school because
She was better and bored and no more 'twas
This fever to take away all her fun
Days upon days with just mommy are done!
Fingers crossed.
Just kidding, this is not from my book. It's not a memoir, silly.
I am going loopy (how can you tell?) from being home bound and trying my hand at writing a book all whilst waiting out the fever that never ends. This rhyming crap is way easier. Maybe Dr. Suess is looking for a replacement?
Here's to hoping that Amelia is well. Poor little thing. Breaks my heart.
On that note...... here is what's driving me insane most of all. No pun intended.
Let me demonstrate.
This is a picture of the Mazda 3, the ugliest car known to man. (No offense if you own one of these, to each their own.)
And this is Jack's impersonation of the Mazda 3, which we not-so-fondly refer to as "smiley car".
This is neither here nor there.
This is the part that drives me mental. When we are out driving there are approximately 3562 of these cars on the road. Everytime we see one one of the kids yells "Smiley Car!" And what song do you think pops in my head every single time?
That's right. You guessed it. Now maybe you'll go insane as well and then we can be friends.
Speaking of friends, go here to vote for me or I'm comin' after you. What? You don't believe me? Try me. Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs .
Also, I'm giving crap away, if you're interested.
On Monday, the little one woke warm, with emotion.
She said "my stomachs' not well, it's like a rough ocean."
Her forehead was hot and her fever ran high.
We sent the others off to school, good-bye.
It was just her and me for days to come.
Just her and me and medications some.
I do not like it when she is sick
I do not like it. Not one lick.
It hurts my heart and leaves me hopeless
I can't fix it and I wish for mope-less
Besides that point it infringes on me
But that doesn't matter, it's about her, you see.
I had things to do both in and out
Things to do that are not about
being sick with sore throats and fevers galore
But instead about haircuts and plenty more.
The little one cried and whined and fussed.
She looked disheveled, her hair a-mussed.
Her throat was on fire, her cheeks were red.
I medicated and medicated and put her to bed.
On Halloween night we ventured out
And walked and walked with nary a pout
The little one was tired but walked longer still
She pressed on bravely 'cause her friends weren't ill.
She wanted her fair share and who could blame her?
She exclaimed,"This is the best holiday EVER!"
Four days off school so far but we'll see
When I told her "fever is broken" - glee!
She asked if she could go back to school because
She was better and bored and no more 'twas
This fever to take away all her fun
Days upon days with just mommy are done!
Fingers crossed.
Just kidding, this is not from my book. It's not a memoir, silly.
I am going loopy (how can you tell?) from being home bound and trying my hand at writing a book all whilst waiting out the fever that never ends. This rhyming crap is way easier. Maybe Dr. Suess is looking for a replacement?
Here's to hoping that Amelia is well. Poor little thing. Breaks my heart.
On that note...... here is what's driving me insane most of all. No pun intended.
Let me demonstrate.
This is a picture of the Mazda 3, the ugliest car known to man. (No offense if you own one of these, to each their own.)
And this is Jack's impersonation of the Mazda 3, which we not-so-fondly refer to as "smiley car".
This is neither here nor there.
This is the part that drives me mental. When we are out driving there are approximately 3562 of these cars on the road. Everytime we see one one of the kids yells "Smiley Car!" And what song do you think pops in my head every single time?
That's right. You guessed it. Now maybe you'll go insane as well and then we can be friends.
Speaking of friends, go here to vote for me or I'm comin' after you. What? You don't believe me? Try me. Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs .
Also, I'm giving crap away, if you're interested.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
nanowrimo
Do you know what a nanowrimo is? No? Well, until about 9 days ago I didn't either. About 9 days ago I was doing something dangerous. I was surfing the web whilst waiting for my sleeping pill to kick in. It's either that or talk to the man but the problem is that this particular brand of pill makes me really chatty.
And when I say really chatty I mean like no breathing, run on sentences and complete chaos kind of chatty. It acts like a truth serum as well and I tend to divulge things that are better kept under wraps.
Youknowwhatimean?
Anyhow, this particular night I was surfing. A bunch of my tweeps were talking about the upcoming nanowrimo challenge. I clicked and clicked until I felt I had a pretty good idea of what it was.
Foggy, mind you, but I was excited. I wanted to tell the world that my new November goal was to partake in nanowrimo. It was at this moment I got up and went to bed for fear that I would start blogging or status updating incoherence that would scare the universe.
The next morning I thought it was a dream. I told the man about this amazing dream I had where by the end of November I would be famous. It occurred to me I should look it up. Well, I'll be........ It was real!
I talked to the family about it. They all thought it was a cool idea and then I started to get really excited so here is the big news.
Nanowrimo stands for...........
National Novel Writing Month. And you can check it out here.
Now, I just want to clarify a couple of things.
1. This is my first attempt at a novel or anything that may even resemble a novel so it's guaranteed to be crap.
2. Because of that no one, and I repeat no one, will be allowed to read it. Unless you ask about 30 minutes after I've taken a sleeping pill. In which case I would most likely read it out over the radio.
3. The point of this challenge is to commit a month to doing something many many people I know would love to do, including me. Not to become a world famous authoress by December and I am perfectly aware of that so don't poop on my parade okay?
Although that would be so cool, wouldn't it?
The challenge is 50,000 words by November 30. I think there are prizes but I will admit here that I haven't actually looked into it all that much. I know the basic rules.
So I have some work to do. I'll be busy because I have to write on average 1667 words a day. I don't even know how long that is so I guess Ima gonna go find out!
Oh mercy......... what should the first line be?
This is going to be a crazy month. I herby declare the man to officially be in charge of the grocery shopping.
Let it be so!
Also, don't forget about my giveaway at the end of this ridiculously long post.
And....please go vote for me. Pretty please? Once a day even. I love love love you!
Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs .
Off we go. To write a book. About?????????
Oh boy.............
And when I say really chatty I mean like no breathing, run on sentences and complete chaos kind of chatty. It acts like a truth serum as well and I tend to divulge things that are better kept under wraps.
Youknowwhatimean?
Anyhow, this particular night I was surfing. A bunch of my tweeps were talking about the upcoming nanowrimo challenge. I clicked and clicked until I felt I had a pretty good idea of what it was.
Foggy, mind you, but I was excited. I wanted to tell the world that my new November goal was to partake in nanowrimo. It was at this moment I got up and went to bed for fear that I would start blogging or status updating incoherence that would scare the universe.
The next morning I thought it was a dream. I told the man about this amazing dream I had where by the end of November I would be famous. It occurred to me I should look it up. Well, I'll be........ It was real!
I talked to the family about it. They all thought it was a cool idea and then I started to get really excited so here is the big news.
Nanowrimo stands for...........
National Novel Writing Month. And you can check it out here.
Now, I just want to clarify a couple of things.
1. This is my first attempt at a novel or anything that may even resemble a novel so it's guaranteed to be crap.
2. Because of that no one, and I repeat no one, will be allowed to read it. Unless you ask about 30 minutes after I've taken a sleeping pill. In which case I would most likely read it out over the radio.
3. The point of this challenge is to commit a month to doing something many many people I know would love to do, including me. Not to become a world famous authoress by December and I am perfectly aware of that so don't poop on my parade okay?
Although that would be so cool, wouldn't it?
The challenge is 50,000 words by November 30. I think there are prizes but I will admit here that I haven't actually looked into it all that much. I know the basic rules.
So I have some work to do. I'll be busy because I have to write on average 1667 words a day. I don't even know how long that is so I guess Ima gonna go find out!
Oh mercy......... what should the first line be?
This is going to be a crazy month. I herby declare the man to officially be in charge of the grocery shopping.
Let it be so!
Also, don't forget about my giveaway at the end of this ridiculously long post.
And....please go vote for me. Pretty please? Once a day even. I love love love you!
Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs .
Off we go. To write a book. About?????????
Oh boy.............
Thursday, October 27, 2011
the hot yogi and a giveaway!!
Well, I did it. It is done. 30 hot yoga classes in 30 days. Actually, since I didn't go Sundays and there was one Saturday I couldn't go, I did 30 classes in 25 days. That's right, you heard me.
I did that.
Can you even believe it?
Nor can I. Seriously I can't. After the first week I thought for sure I would melt up and turn into some kind of bendy gelatinous goo. Like gumby. But all melted-like.
Then week two came and I began to feel the love. For the hot yoga and pretty much not for anything else in my life. The timing of this challenge was serendipitous. I needed it.
Week three was more of the same but I could do poses deeper and harder and longer. I was able to move it to the next level and then some. Just try, they would say. And I tried. My hands didn't hurt so much, at all actually. And my feet were not angry anymore in warrior pose. I started to think yoga was the way, the truth and the light.
Sort of.
There is one instructor who is the epitome of ultra zen yoga teacher and he said all the time "Breathe. Be happy. Do yogaaaaaaa."
He cracks me up.
Anyway, week four and I was worn out. Every single day (except Sunday) and sometimes twice a day I am there, sweating profusely, bending my body, breathing, quiet in my mind, amazed at others and sometimes even at myself.
But I was tired. I wanted a break. But.....no breaks for the wicked. I mean committed. I pushed through and finished it up.
I thought I would do a pros and cons list for you and answer some FAQ's.......if you are interested to know my thoughts on such things.
The pros of hot yoga:
1. It's a tough and intense workout. In all honesty, and I mean this to the very core of my being, hot yoga was the hardest (next to carrying four babies in my belly) thing I have ever done. Exhaustion. I'm sure that was the 30 day challenge but man, oh man........
2. Strength. I have never ever ever felt so strong and put together in my entire life. It amazed me how after one week I felt stronger than I ever have after a week of anything. And strong everywhere. I could feel every muscle in my body working and changing and loving it. I never worried about going too far or injuring myself. Even my hands are strong now. I'm not so clumsy anymore. Good news, says the man.
3. It was somewhat spiritual. It's so peaceful. Despite the 3 litres of sweat that pours out, in that quiet darkened room, breathing so strong, so powerfully, I felt in tune and connected. To what? Well I think that is a separate and personal thing. But I felt like I was doing something deep and meaningful for me. There is no music blaring. No tv's mounted on the wall to help distract you from the pain. In fact, there was no way you could be distracted. Focus was easy to attain, hard to avoid. Wandering minds were a thing of the past. I was there, in that moment. Breathing deep. The stresses of the world melted away, literally. This surprised me the most. And it was this that I came to rely on the most. I needed this focus and break from the stress of life.
4. Appreciation that everyone is different. Many people have said to me over this past month things like: "I could never do yoga in a room with experts." And "I just couldn't do that in front of other people." This is so not the case. Everyone is different and it is so obvious when you are there. I never once felt like I was trying to keep up or that I stood out in anyway. You just do your best and if you need a break you take a break. If you need water you drink water. This attitude of taking care of your body, listening to it, not going too far or too hard, appeals to me like no other. I never left feeling like I didn't work hard enough. I never felt like a let down. Brand new experience, for me.
5. Gentle progression. There was one point, while I was trying to do a pose that I found painfully uncomfortable, when the instructor came over and gently told me I wasn't ready for what I was trying to do and that I needed to back up a step and stay there until my body told me it was all right to move forward. I thought this was ridiculous. I needed to push through. No pain, no gain, right? I decided to listen to her, to really test out the theories behind yoga. Go at my body's pace and not my mind's. She was right, as the month progressed I could see daily the changes my body was allowing. During the last week I did that particular pose and my body allowed it. The progression is steady and gentle and I love the idea that we let our bodies tell us what is okay instead of us taking our bodies to the gym and telling them they have to do things that hurt. That they aren't earning anything until they have felt pain.
Whoever came up with the saying 'no pain, no gain' is NOT a yogi.
Cons to hot yoga:
None. There is none. And that is the gosh honest truth.
Okay, maybe the price but that's it.
Seriously, it was an amazing experience. One that I would do over and over and over if the funds allowed. Maybe after November's goal I can think about it but November's goal is nutso and I think I'll be supremo busy!
Two FAQ's that I have been asked over and over this month are:
1. Did you like it?
YES, I loved it. More than I can say. This would be my new form of exercise if I could justify the expense at this time in my life. When my dumb house sells and I get my life back I will definitely be taking it back up. Or, at least, that's what I want right now, 30 minutes after my last class.
2. Did you notice any difference?
I'm not really sure what this question means or what the askers are asking. Did I notice a difference in my weight? No. But I ate like there was no tomorrow all month. Am I more flexible. Hells YES! Sorry for the language but seriously, I can bend in ways that I never knew were possible. Do I feel better? Absolutely. I feel calmer and more relaxed. I know how to breathe to calm myself in any moment. And there have been many moments this past month where I wanted to cry/scream/bang my head due to the not feeling calm. I feel as though yoga is a good thing. You know, like eat your vegetables and drink your water kind of good.
One night, I was standing outside the hot room waiting for a class to open up I heard two ladies talking behind me. This was their brief conversation:
"Isn't this a nice studio?"
"Yes, it's the nicest in the city. I've been everywhere and I like this one the best."
Are you wondering where I was?
It is called Breathe Hot Yoga and it is in Avenida Village just off Macleod Trail in SE Calgary. 321, 12445 Lake Fraser Drive SE.
AND........... here comes the giveaway part.........
the owner of this fantastic studio has kindly offered to donate a 5 class pass to a lucky reader of my blog. That's an $80 value!
So here's what you do:
leave a comment if you want it for you or to give to someone you know (stocking stuffer, maybe?) Then if you refer anyone to my blog for the purpose to win the prize or even to read my awesome blog and they leave a comment and ALSO says who referred them and they will get an entry and I will enter your name again. If you do this 1 million times, you will have one million entries. I will keep this open for one week and make the draw Monday November 7th.
Capiche?
It's a beautiful studio, clean and calming and hot hot hot!
But that chilly lemongrass cloth they give you at the end of every class to put on your eyes and forehead? I would knock little old ladies down to be the first to get one of those.
And so should you.
October was a great month. It flew by. It was awesome to challenge my body in a way I never have before. I loved it. I really did.
Breathe. Be happy. Do yoga.
Namaste.
P.S. Come back tomorrow if you want to know what insanity November brings. It is insane. Seriously.
Crazy.
Another p.s..... I was not compensated in any way to gush about Breathe Hot yoga. All thoughts are my own.
And also....sorry, I know this is dragging on....please go vote for me. I am getting pwned over there.
Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs .
I did that.
Can you even believe it?
Nor can I. Seriously I can't. After the first week I thought for sure I would melt up and turn into some kind of bendy gelatinous goo. Like gumby. But all melted-like.
Then week two came and I began to feel the love. For the hot yoga and pretty much not for anything else in my life. The timing of this challenge was serendipitous. I needed it.
Week three was more of the same but I could do poses deeper and harder and longer. I was able to move it to the next level and then some. Just try, they would say. And I tried. My hands didn't hurt so much, at all actually. And my feet were not angry anymore in warrior pose. I started to think yoga was the way, the truth and the light.
Sort of.
There is one instructor who is the epitome of ultra zen yoga teacher and he said all the time "Breathe. Be happy. Do yogaaaaaaa."
He cracks me up.
Anyway, week four and I was worn out. Every single day (except Sunday) and sometimes twice a day I am there, sweating profusely, bending my body, breathing, quiet in my mind, amazed at others and sometimes even at myself.
But I was tired. I wanted a break. But.....no breaks for the wicked. I mean committed. I pushed through and finished it up.
I thought I would do a pros and cons list for you and answer some FAQ's.......if you are interested to know my thoughts on such things.
The pros of hot yoga:
1. It's a tough and intense workout. In all honesty, and I mean this to the very core of my being, hot yoga was the hardest (next to carrying four babies in my belly) thing I have ever done. Exhaustion. I'm sure that was the 30 day challenge but man, oh man........
2. Strength. I have never ever ever felt so strong and put together in my entire life. It amazed me how after one week I felt stronger than I ever have after a week of anything. And strong everywhere. I could feel every muscle in my body working and changing and loving it. I never worried about going too far or injuring myself. Even my hands are strong now. I'm not so clumsy anymore. Good news, says the man.
3. It was somewhat spiritual. It's so peaceful. Despite the 3 litres of sweat that pours out, in that quiet darkened room, breathing so strong, so powerfully, I felt in tune and connected. To what? Well I think that is a separate and personal thing. But I felt like I was doing something deep and meaningful for me. There is no music blaring. No tv's mounted on the wall to help distract you from the pain. In fact, there was no way you could be distracted. Focus was easy to attain, hard to avoid. Wandering minds were a thing of the past. I was there, in that moment. Breathing deep. The stresses of the world melted away, literally. This surprised me the most. And it was this that I came to rely on the most. I needed this focus and break from the stress of life.
4. Appreciation that everyone is different. Many people have said to me over this past month things like: "I could never do yoga in a room with experts." And "I just couldn't do that in front of other people." This is so not the case. Everyone is different and it is so obvious when you are there. I never once felt like I was trying to keep up or that I stood out in anyway. You just do your best and if you need a break you take a break. If you need water you drink water. This attitude of taking care of your body, listening to it, not going too far or too hard, appeals to me like no other. I never left feeling like I didn't work hard enough. I never felt like a let down. Brand new experience, for me.
5. Gentle progression. There was one point, while I was trying to do a pose that I found painfully uncomfortable, when the instructor came over and gently told me I wasn't ready for what I was trying to do and that I needed to back up a step and stay there until my body told me it was all right to move forward. I thought this was ridiculous. I needed to push through. No pain, no gain, right? I decided to listen to her, to really test out the theories behind yoga. Go at my body's pace and not my mind's. She was right, as the month progressed I could see daily the changes my body was allowing. During the last week I did that particular pose and my body allowed it. The progression is steady and gentle and I love the idea that we let our bodies tell us what is okay instead of us taking our bodies to the gym and telling them they have to do things that hurt. That they aren't earning anything until they have felt pain.
Whoever came up with the saying 'no pain, no gain' is NOT a yogi.
Cons to hot yoga:
None. There is none. And that is the gosh honest truth.
Okay, maybe the price but that's it.
Seriously, it was an amazing experience. One that I would do over and over and over if the funds allowed. Maybe after November's goal I can think about it but November's goal is nutso and I think I'll be supremo busy!
Two FAQ's that I have been asked over and over this month are:
1. Did you like it?
YES, I loved it. More than I can say. This would be my new form of exercise if I could justify the expense at this time in my life. When my dumb house sells and I get my life back I will definitely be taking it back up. Or, at least, that's what I want right now, 30 minutes after my last class.
2. Did you notice any difference?
I'm not really sure what this question means or what the askers are asking. Did I notice a difference in my weight? No. But I ate like there was no tomorrow all month. Am I more flexible. Hells YES! Sorry for the language but seriously, I can bend in ways that I never knew were possible. Do I feel better? Absolutely. I feel calmer and more relaxed. I know how to breathe to calm myself in any moment. And there have been many moments this past month where I wanted to cry/scream/bang my head due to the not feeling calm. I feel as though yoga is a good thing. You know, like eat your vegetables and drink your water kind of good.
One night, I was standing outside the hot room waiting for a class to open up I heard two ladies talking behind me. This was their brief conversation:
"Isn't this a nice studio?"
"Yes, it's the nicest in the city. I've been everywhere and I like this one the best."
Are you wondering where I was?
It is called Breathe Hot Yoga and it is in Avenida Village just off Macleod Trail in SE Calgary. 321, 12445 Lake Fraser Drive SE.
AND........... here comes the giveaway part.........
the owner of this fantastic studio has kindly offered to donate a 5 class pass to a lucky reader of my blog. That's an $80 value!
So here's what you do:
leave a comment if you want it for you or to give to someone you know (stocking stuffer, maybe?) Then if you refer anyone to my blog for the purpose to win the prize or even to read my awesome blog and they leave a comment and ALSO says who referred them and they will get an entry and I will enter your name again. If you do this 1 million times, you will have one million entries. I will keep this open for one week and make the draw Monday November 7th.
Capiche?
It's a beautiful studio, clean and calming and hot hot hot!
But that chilly lemongrass cloth they give you at the end of every class to put on your eyes and forehead? I would knock little old ladies down to be the first to get one of those.
And so should you.
October was a great month. It flew by. It was awesome to challenge my body in a way I never have before. I loved it. I really did.
Breathe. Be happy. Do yoga.
Namaste.
P.S. Come back tomorrow if you want to know what insanity November brings. It is insane. Seriously.
Crazy.
Another p.s..... I was not compensated in any way to gush about Breathe Hot yoga. All thoughts are my own.
And also....sorry, I know this is dragging on....please go vote for me. I am getting pwned over there.
Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs .
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