and then will ferguson rang my bell

In all my ever loving, over flowing wisdom, at some point over the last year, I decided that it would be a super brilliant idea to join another book club. Because going to school, where the reading is endless, wasn't enough reading on top of the book club I am already a part of, and have been for 7 years. We'll call that book club 1.

Hmmmm, another book club? Yeah, let's read more, that sounds doable, I thought. So when a group of ladies I love love love formed a book club I said, "Count me in!"

I am enthusiastic like that. We'll call this book club 2.

So...along comes my turn to pick the book for book club 2. I mosey on down to my shelves of books that are waiting patiently for my eyes to grace them with their glorious green presence.

What to pick, what to pick? Sometimes the picking of something to read can be a real conundrum. It involves much thinking and pondering and wondering "what if I make the wrong choice?"

"What if the the book I put back is the book that needs to be read the most?"

I tend to treat my books as though they have feelings that might be hurt if I ignore them too long or tease them by reading their cover and making a face that might insinuate it's going to be the next great love of my life only to put it back on the shelf and choose the book beside it. Can you imagine the anticipation followed by that level of rejection?

Life can be cruel, yo.

So anyway, I see a book I had recently purchased and decided it was the one. I picked it. I let the ladies know.

419 by Will Ferguson.

6 weeks later my living room fills with women who have traveled through a raging snow storm to not only discuss this book but also to feast upon Cafe Rio. If you don't know what that is you need to make a reservation at Chez Dabels and chow down, Charlie Brown.

Yum yum yum.

Moving on. After we had eaten and settled in for a discussion about this novel, a conversation ensued about the various aspects of the book people liked or didn't like.

And then . . . the doorbell rang.

"Who could that be?" I proclaimed! "And on this blustery night, no less!"

I opened the door and low and behold, who was standing at my door? Why it was Will Ferguson, the author. Of the book. The very book we were discussing at that very moment in time.

Now, I don't know about you but for me this was PRETTY FREAKING EXCITING!

Will Ferguson came into my living room and chatted with us about his book. He answered all kinds of questions and cleared up Dana's misgivings. Because Dana always has misgivings about the legitimacy of the fiction inside the novel. A fictitious novel. A novel based in fiction.

Oh Dana.

He signed our copies. Graciously posed for pictures. And then left us there.

In our wonder and our awe.

Coolest book club ever.

Now if you're wondering how that came to be the answer is Sarah. Sarah knows everyone and everything and when I picked the book she casually mentioned that she knew Will and she would see what she could do to get him out. She made it happen as only Sarah could. I knew about the surprise, as did Sarah, but no one else did and it was all kinds of wicked.

Thanks Sarah, for knowing everything in the universe. Wink. And thanks Will, for being the amazing sport you were. We do appreciate.

the 'burbs

Have you ever seen The 'Burbs? The one where Tom Hanks stalks his neighbours because he's slightly insane and it turns out his neighbours are mass murdering psychopaths so it was right to stalk them like he did?

The other night I was Tom Hanks. Stalking my suspicious neighbour out my bedroom window. And then my living room window. And then my kitchen window. And then my bedroom window again. And then my living room window again.

Until I lost his trail.

It was late, I was getting ready for bed and he caught me peeking at him out my window so he stopped what he was doing and nonchalantly roamed his driveway until I had convinced him I wasn't looking anymore.

But I was.

Because nothing tingles my senses like you acting all weird-like.

He went around the side of his house and filled a wheelbarrow full of something, I'm sure it was body parts. He approached his driveway and looked around. He looked up at me but I'm nothing if not super sleuthy. He saw nothing. When he was sure he was alone in the dark, with his wheelbarrow full o' body parts he started out and began pushing that thing up the road.

Where on earth was he going with a wheelbarrow full of body parts?

I ran down to the living room. The man followed me. "What are you doing?" Clearly the excitement was more than he could bear, it got him out of bed.

"Our neighbour is acting weird. He has a wheelbarrow full of something and he's pushing it this way. I'm sure it's body parts."

"You're insane, I'm going back to bed."

Pfft. Whatever. Someone needs to protect the neighbourhood. Men.

I scampered between the kitchen and the living room trying to locate him. We live on the corner, I have a decent view of many directions but where did he go?

WHERE DID HE GO?

I ran back up to my room and peered out the window again. I noticed he'd left a wet trail behind. I'm sure it was blood but it was hard to tell with the night sky. I ran back down the stairs again to follow the trail. It went down the sidewalk beside my house and out of view.

WHERE DID HE GO WITH HIS WHEELBARROWFULLOFBODYPARTS?

The whole thing was sending me over the edge.

Since I was in my underwear and really too lazy to get dressed and follow the blood trail to this crazy man's location I chose to stand at my window and wait for his return. He was gone for some time but did finally return with an empty wheelbarrow and a look on his face that told the whole story.

I just don't know what that story is.

But I am watching you neighbour.

I.

Am.

Watching.

YOU!

i am awesome at holiday mondays. pictorial evidence included

Yesterday was a holiday. Victoria Day, to be precise. This means nothing except that all the kids were home from school while I was trying to do a major assignment. I set the whole day aside to do this project because I was pretty sure I was going to need it. I gave the children free reign on the computer and the X-Box.

Have at 'er, zombie children. I'll see you on the other side.

Let me tell you about this class. It's called Professional and Technical Communication, or something like that. Anyway, it is horrifically boring and so not my thing. I found the first two three hour classes coma inducing. Class one was lecture. Class two was exam (previously mentioned on this here blog) and class three, which was to be today, was first major assignment. A visual critique.

This is what brings me here today. So, I go to where the assignment is posted to see what I need to do for it. The prof is nothing if not extremely detail oriented. She has so much detail written in what she wants to see it takes hours just to decipher her lawyer/English major/university professor lingo. I decide to print off the assignment so I can read and re- read it in my thinking chair.







See how wrinkly that chair is getting? I think a lot.

So back to this deliciously exciting story...I print off the assignment. It is 5 pages long.



FIVE PAGES LONG.

Now, if you'll be so kind as to read what it says beside length of the assignment.



Yep. 750 words. Single spaced. Which is a page and a half. Or maybe two pages, if you have all the rigmarole at the top of page one.

So let's recap. To explain a 1.5-2 page assignment it took the prof 5 pages, SINGLE spaced, to do that.

This is so unbelievably asinine to me that I was forced to go and check my degree requirements to see if, in fact, I do have to take this course. I thought I did, but it's always wise, at my age, to check and double check stuff because I tend to recreate things in my mind that are simply not true. And low and behold, this class is one of many I can choose from.

So KAPOWIE!!! Off to the online student centre I go to drop this dumb class that is making me so unhappy. I list my text book on kijiji and within minutes it's sold. And all of a sudden I am as free as a bird for the rest of the day. The rest of the week actually.

I ask the children what they would like to do and they looked at me with their zombie eyes and said, "Uhhhhh, play on the computer, obviously. YOU SAID WE COULD PLAY ALL DAY!!"

Then I decided I would like to walk around the mall but the man wanted to come so we waited for him. He got home, showered and we headed off to the mall. Half way there the man announced he did not have his wallet.

"Well, when you're around I don't even bring mine," replied I.

So we did the giant, time sucking loopdy loop to get home and retrieve finances to pay for dinner. We arrived at the mall at 5:41 and were gathering food in the food fair when we were informed the mall was closing in 15 minutes because of this holiday I have already mentioned.

Well, of course it is. Huh? Am I new here? How did I not realize that? This getting old and not bright stuff is exhausting.

And then I had terrible guilt that my children did not see the light of day on Victoria Day so I went to bed to end it as promptly as I could.

Come back tomorrow and I will tell you a story that is actually a good story.

points of slight exaggeration

Ok. Wow. What a week. Spring semester started Tuesday and I am already drowning in homework. There is so much reading and thankfully some of it is half way entertaining. The rest of it?

Might just kill me with boredom!

So my sister had a baby last night in about 32 seconds. Which is how I like it because I watch her kids while she's doing it and I don't like to wait.

As we well know.

So usually I show up at her house and someone is there watching the kids because I am not near fast enough. Shortly after I arrive and assess the state of the other kids I get a text from her husband. And by shortly after I mean like 15 minutes...give or take.

One thing about my sister, when she wants something done, it gets done.

Mallory Anne is as sweet as you could imagine. I do declare that she represents the very last time I will be made an auntie. I am at 26 now and I do believe the child bearing is done. Although, I wouldn't put it past my one brother to get some banana idea in his head...

Speaking of university professors...I might have some advice for them. It involves common sense but I am skeptical professors have much of that. It seems to me that the professor-type has a tendency to give exams worth only 10% of your final grade and then proceed to inform you that the info covered on the exam will take you approximately one million hours to study.

So here's my advice: either don't bother with a test worth 10%. Or, make the test worth more than a measly 10%.

Duh.

Well, I am off. I have a psychology class tomorrow for almost 6 hours, (yes, I know it's a Saturday) and the prof has assigned 80 million pages to read. I also have an assignment due for a class that might just be considered the most boring class offered at the university.

If you are ever wondering where I am, I am here. Hiding under text books that only cost 473 millions dollars.

rotting on a beach. a picture essay.

So, I am back from Mexico. You know what I did in Mexico? I laid on a chair and read books. And when I got hot I got up and ran into the ocean or when I was sanded out I hopped into the pool. When I got hungry I walked to the nearest buffet.

It was glorious. Maybe not the backpacking across Spain or the ruin seeking adventure many people aim for when they choose to vacation but it was exactly what I wanted and needed. I didn't lift a finger to serve anyone and instead let myself be served and I have no guilt about that.

The man was a good sport, he just followed me around and carried my stuff like the good sherpa he his. 

The sun soothed my soul. It was nice to be away from life with just my husband. 

I read four novels and only one sucked beyond words. I'll give you a hint. It was called Divergent. What a piece of crap. Anyway...

The internet was sketchy at best down there but we didn't care because we were escaping the world. Well, I didn't care until half of my pictures got sucked into oblivion from my phone. iCloud is cranky in Mexico. I'm sure they are somewhere in the inter webs but I have no idea how to find them. So I only have a few pictures to share and not my faves. Like the awesome puffer fish that got washed up on the beach as I walked by and viciously tried to take my life.

No he didn't. He actually just laid there like a gentleman while I took pictures of him. But those pictures are gone, so...

Here's what's left.

This little monkey missed me. A lot. Sweet little thing.

adios, amigos

Me, to him: Look, just humour me. I am a person with OCD tendencies and an anxiety disorder. If I want to do the laundry, fold it, put it away in the drawers and THEN take it all back out to put in suitcases then I'm going to bloody well do that.

Him, to me: You're insane.

Adios, amigos.

you probably think this song is about you...

This is what happens when your insanely vain child gets a hold of your phone. He thinks he spammed me. He did. I don't think, however, he is aware of how far I am willing to go. Scroll really fast...or you'll probably get bored.

You're welcome.