It could happen to anyone

How many things in my life could be prefaced by that, I wonder? Anyway: I had a two hour root canal this morning, and I...well, I fell asleep.

Wait a second on the judgement here folks! There was something not going according to plan (something else that seems to happen a lot in my life), so they took another x-ray mid way through the procedure and then went to discuss it. I was tired, the office was cold, the xray thingy was like a heavy warm blanket...and I dozed off. Just about hit the roof when they came back, too. What woke me up was the dentist's hand on my face - scared the bejeebers out of me. which is good, because I'm going on vacation tomorrow and I'd hate to be bringing bejeebers with me.

Also in the lovely world of fun times at the root canal - Has this thought ever run through your head when you're sitting in the dentist's chair:
"gee, his thigh is hot"?
Because it ran through mine, and it wasn't even in the sense that you'ren probably thinking. Just the way that he was sitting, his leg was resting against my elbow and forearm, and the weather here (today being the day the earth caught fire) is sufficiently horrible that it was uncomfortably hot. Not unpleasant, though. Far be it from me to ask hot (literally and figuratively) dentist to move his leg. I'm not stupid!

Get thee hence, Satan!

Oh, God is so going to be mad at me. I am envy ridden. Or lust ridden. Maybe even both!

M. and I went to a friend’s house on Monday to deliver a thank-you bottle of wine (her husband had notarized something for me at no charge, and at the last minute). This was the first time I’d been there since the kitchen renovations.

Now the house was lovely even before the renovation. I remember when they did the flooring: gorgeous hardwood imported from Quebec for living room floor, continuing up the curving staircase. Lots of big windows, lots of warm wood. Great house! But now…

Oh my word the kitchen. Beautiful cabinetry, granite countertops (and a huge island, also granite topped), open airy space and beautiful appliances. Is it wrong to want to hug a stove? And a fridge? They bought a stainless steel fridge, it is huge, and all shiny and stuff. And the stove; not sure if it is an actual Aga, but it is certainly in that style. Gas stove, lots of burners, a warming plate, warming oven. I want her stove! And her fridge! I’m going to burn in hell over kitchen-envy.

The OED let me down.

When reading, if I come across a word I don't know, I have to look it up. RIGHT AWAY. It doesn't matter if I'm in the bath, or in bed, or in a tree in the backyard, I go find a dictionary and look it up.

Now, the thing is I read a lot. No, really, a LOT. Always have. Consequently, I am not often stumped. This morning, though, I came across a word I didn't know. Sometimes you can figure stuff out just given the context it is used in, but not this time.

As this happened at work, I grabbed the Concise Oxford Dictionary and looked it up. Not there. Hmmm. Well, it is the concise version, after all. So online to the complete Oxford Dictionary. Not there either. At this point, I'm thinking either the author made the word up, or it is a different word altogether, and I'm trying to define a typo. Except it doesn't look like any other word that would make sense in the sentence it was used in. Last resort: google it. Et voila! (in Merriam Webster, no less. I can't believe the OED let me down).

So, the word? "Apolaustic". It's a great word, too. Means "Devoted to enjoyment". There, that can be your something new learned for the day. You're free to go back to bed and still feel you've accomplished something for today.

Baggin' it

I was driving past Vic park today, and there was a guy on the sidewalk, peeing. Into a bag. Now on one hand, eewww, peeing in public. On the other, I kinda want to commend him for peeing in a bag, and not onto people, or the street. On yet another hand (I could have three hands, it could happen), it was a Safeway-esque bag, so if my experience (with the BAGS, not peeing in public. Idiots) is at all common, the pee will be in the street soon anyway, because there is always at least one hole in every bag. Not a problem if you're putting gorceries in the bag, big problem if you're peeing in it.

Saskatchewan Chainsaw Non-Massacre

There was a tree growing into the edge of the roof of my house. On Sunday, the offending part was cut down, and guess what? I got to use a chainsaw! (When I told A. on the phone, his response was "who was insane enough to allow that?" M. wouldn't even come outside and watch). I've decided that it isn't something that I'd do on a regular basis, but at least I've done it! Yeah me!

I won't have you trick me into any kind of randy sex talk!

That quote will only make sense to those of you that I’ve loaned the tape “A Bit of Fry & Laurie” to, but it was too perfect to forgo. The thing is, if you get embarrassed at the least little thing, you might want to skip this post. And I’ll probably just pretend that no one I actually know in person reads my blog.

Last Thursday, standing in the driveway talking to my neighbour (with my girl listening to everything, ears twitching), I was invited to a Home and Gift party. This is a Tupperware-esque party, sort of a cross between Pampered Chef and Candlelight. I agreed to go – why not? It was a chance to visit with grown-ups. “Also” she says, glancing nervously at M., after that there is a…more…intimate party”. Can you stay for it?

Hmmm. Am I being invited to a lingerie selling party? (Hooray!), a love shop type party? (to use when?) or some weird sort of neighbourhood swingers party? (in Whitmore Park? Not likely and no thank you). I glance at M. and mutter “yeah, sure, I guess”.

Now in my head I’m thinking “oh come on, it’ll be fun. A bunch of women getting together laughing and having fun. I’m not some 20-something year old that can’t talk about sex in front of a bunch of women”. Yeah. Like there are 20-somethings these days that CAN’T talk about it. What era am I living in?

So; first party if fun. M. is away at a movie, I’m on my own. I bought a couple of pastry scrapers, some cool pastry bags and a tiered cooling rack. The rack alone made the party worthwhile: lots of cookie cooling space without using up tons of counter space!

Fast forward to party number two – which turns out to be a sex toy party. So I give myself another talking to, and stay seated. Now let me clarify things here: I have nothing against sex. It is, to the best of my recollection, a wonderful thing. It’s watching someone go on and on about various toys and their uses that I can’t cope with. There were two older women (older than me, everyone else was in their 20’s), one of whom looked like she might be shopping for her part time job (honestly, skirt that short? Make-up that thickly laid on?), the other, well, I’m pretty this party wasn’t for her. She wasn’t invited, actually, but decided to stay after the first party, just for fun. Because, and I’m not kidding “imagine what my church ladies will think!” Good Heavens, now there’s an interesting bible study in the making!

I am still not sure I can get through this without laughing my head off, or making horny 14 year old boy remarks when in walk several women…with their boyfriends! WTF? NO ONE brings guys to these things, that’s the whole point. So now I am doubly unsure what to do. So I stay.

Lucky for me, the first half of the presentation is for lotions and stuff. Some of it bath stuff, so useful regardless of whether you’re bathing with someone or not. And some of it has alternate applications. Trust me, though, I don’t think penis numbing cream as a solution for itchy mosquito bites is ever going to catch on.

I’d like to know whose job it was to name some of the things, or even to come up with some of the ideas. Vibrating bath tub sponge? (Oh I am so sad; my first thought was “how would you clean the tub with a vibrating sponge? And wouldn’t cleaners wreck it?”).

There was some pretty cool stuff; the honey dust was one that looked fun to me. Probably the only time the words “dust” and “fun” can be used in the same sentence. Not that I bought any – but should I end up with a honey who wants to be dusted, well, ya never know. Lots of oil based things, bath salt things and chocolate things. Chocolate really does go with everything. And I thought that was a cooking maxim!

We were almost done part one of the party when the doorbell rings and in walks my girl. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! Quick grab of the shoulders, turn her around to face the other way and out we go. I even left my purse and a cheque from someone who had ordered kitchen things on my order sheet behind. So I can’t even say that I’ve been to a sex-toy party. Half a one, yes, and nary a toy in sight.

At least I got away without spending money on something that I wouldn’t be using, anyway. I had already spent an hour in the afternoon sorting out the half of my dresser that I keep lingerie in. (Three drawers for underwear, three drawers for everything else. No wonder I’m not married – where would he put his stuff?) I had to cull old things, to make room for new things. I realized when I was done that I had a drawer of everyday stuff, a drawer of more fun stuff that I nevertheless wear all the time and a drawer of stuff that I’ve never worn, ever. I was appalled. I know other women that do this: buy things they never wear – shoes, clothes, etc. But do guys? I can’t see a guy buying a pair of shoes and then not ever wearing them. I hope I’m not the only one with a collection of things never worn, ingredients never used, tools that remain pristine in the tool box. ‘Cause I’d hate that.

Possibly the dumbest thing ever.

Which is saying something, I hear and see a lot of dumb things. Anyway:

Yesterday afternoon I took M. and a friend of hers for some vacation-esque fun. We went to the Royal Saskatchewan Museum, and Government House, a short drive in the country and pizza when we got back to town. Now, just so you know, we had a good time. They behaved well, we all enjoyed what we did, so don’t judge the fun by the complaint, ‘k?

I understand averages in life, so I am aware that there are…people who are dumber than average to balance those that are smarter than average. So I don’t waste much time contemplating the things people come up with, but Sweet Saskatchewan Lobster there are times when I do gape in shock. Or just laugh my head off, depending on the mood. And let me tell you, dear readers (or perhaps I should say dear reader), yesterday was one of those times.

For those of you that may not know, in the museum First Nations Gallery there are several dioramas to look at. One of them is titled “Fishing in the Qu’Appelle Valley”. Tipis, fish, people, canoes, fish drying on racks, the whole shooting match. There were two other people in the area, and they came over to look at the fishing scene. At which point I hear (I swear I am not making this up – she really said it) “Oh. Did the Indians know about fishing back then?”

So I laughed. Not to be mean, but because apparently I have insufficient self control. But honestly, even if she had been totally ignorant about fishing in general, and first nations entirely, did she really think that fishing was a recent invention? That for thousands of years people around the world looked at the pretty things in the water, watched other animals like bears eat them and never thought to catch them? Fishing, the invention of modern man, I can just picture it.

“Holmes”
“Yes, Watson?”
“What are you doing with that stick and string?”
“It has occurred to me that fish, if caught and cooked in some manner involving say butter and fresh herbs might make for some mighty fine eating”.
“Brilliant!”
“Elementary”.

Melons

M. wanted to try some type of melon that wasn't one of the big three, so I bought a Sharlyn melon at Safeway. It had white flesh, which was odd, but it was very sweet. Sort of a honeydew-canteloupe cross.

This made me wonder just how many types of melons are there out there? I remember a fruit juice chain in S.A. that had at least a dozen to choose from, so I decided to get a definitive answer. And because I'm really clever, I Googled "Melons". Hmmm. Not so clever after all. And so begins a new day.

More window/mirror shenanigans

Along with the woman obsessed with her own prettiness, there is a skinny skinny skinny blonde woman obsessed with the fear that she's gained weight. She pats her stomach - no wait, there is no stomach: she pats her pelvis - and turns back and forth just in case she's gained a jellybean's worth of weight. The sad thing is, she isn't thin, she is skinny. The personification of the Cadbury Thins bar.

Clean 'N Dirty

I have an issue with time, here. Every now and again (once a day, and one time TWICE in a single day), I'll go outside, take my shoes off - if indeed they were even on in the first place - and wander around. I stretch a bit, feel the grass beneath my feet and breathe in the fresh air. I swear the air in here is jsut circulated over and over, with no intake from outside.

I was asked today if that was "fair" to the company; spending a minute or two outside for no particular reason. I laughed, as this person is one of the few smokers we have here, and there are WAY more smoking breaks taken than fresh air breaks. Ick. Going outside to get polluted air is how I see it. Apparently though, that's "different". The smokers are going outside for a reason. I, apparently, am going outside on a fancy. Trust me, if I could have anything on a fancy, I'd choose something involving more than two minutes on the grass outside.

In the end we agreed to disagree. Actually, this person agreed to disagree, I agreed to see them as insane.