On Sunday afternoon I was doing one of those things that mingles church people with street people. (As a side note: the truly irritatingly crazy ones were part of the former group, not the latter). As we're leaving - with various comments about bringing ugly coats, in case they were stolen, one dear old man (really old, 90+ at a guess) decided to add his two cents to the conversation.
The conversation had moved on to the best way to keep things from being stolen was to wear them the whole time. Apparently boot thefts were a big concern. Anyway...his two cents?
"even at church. I always bring rubbers when I go to church with you dear".
Hmmm. I don't know what church they go to...but it might be worth checking out! (It occurred to me as I was laughing my head off over this that my kids wouldn't get it. I don't think anyone uses the term rubber anymore, not for shoes and not for condoms).
Monday, October 27, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Imaginary Man has Imaginary Illness
You’ve heard about the wii, and the fit bit and the trainer who isn’t real. Yesterday I started my usual lame attempt at yoga (I am improving, though) and…my trainer doesn’t appear. Instead some skinny woman trainer appears and says “Hi. I’ll be filling in for your regular trainer today. Let’s get started”.
Now, yes, you can change trainers. But I hadn’t! I’ve no idea why this happened. Did they set things up this way so the mainly faceless figures seem real? As in ”fake trainer is sick today and will be staying home in his wii house ”?
What made it particularly galling – sufficiently enough to make me quit and go back and change trainer – is that she’s just a little bit….well… bitchy. At the same point where the guy says “excellent balance. Doing yoga every will strengthen your core body muscles and help you towards your fitness goals” she says “you will find the poses easier to do if you work on doing them with the correct form”. Not the exact words, but close enough.
So that got me thinking…do they assume women will choose a male trainer (which I did, but would never do in real life) and men a female trainer? And that women perform better with compliments, men with nagging? A man who does better with nagging does not, in my opinion, exist. NO ONE does better for being nagged. Encourage, yeah, nagged no.
Now, yes, you can change trainers. But I hadn’t! I’ve no idea why this happened. Did they set things up this way so the mainly faceless figures seem real? As in ”fake trainer is sick today and will be staying home in his wii house ”?
What made it particularly galling – sufficiently enough to make me quit and go back and change trainer – is that she’s just a little bit….well… bitchy. At the same point where the guy says “excellent balance. Doing yoga every will strengthen your core body muscles and help you towards your fitness goals” she says “you will find the poses easier to do if you work on doing them with the correct form”. Not the exact words, but close enough.
So that got me thinking…do they assume women will choose a male trainer (which I did, but would never do in real life) and men a female trainer? And that women perform better with compliments, men with nagging? A man who does better with nagging does not, in my opinion, exist. NO ONE does better for being nagged. Encourage, yeah, nagged no.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Beans are not fruit. But they are magical
I can be obsessive about food. Sometimes mildly, sometimes to excess. Although the boy sure enjoyed months of cinnamon buns during the bun quest (a term, by the way that you shouldn't Google).
One of the things that for whatever reason humours people who know about it is that over the course of about three years I worked on a baked bean recipe, striving to make them be as close as they could be to....canned beans. Why? Because I LIKE canned beans. But can't eat them. Even when they don't have added pork, they do have bacon in the cooking part (as I discovered after a rush trip to the hospital. So just because the ingredients list doesn't say bacon doesn't mean bacon wasn't involved in the making thereof), and as a consequence I can't eat them. But I want them.
So I make the recipe that was three years in the making. The problem - and here is where I step onto the crazy ship lollypop as far as my co-workers are concerned - is that I had already started the long and tedious task when I realized that a) I had no sweet onion. In fact, no onion at all and b) I was working lunch on the desk and wouldn't be able to zip home. So I did what any right thinking person would do:
I brought it to work, and at morning coffee break ran next door and bought a big sweet onion. Which I took upstairs to the coffee room and chopped and tossed into the beans already in the slow cooker. There is still salt pork, but I had it made for me without the nitrite. This is the first time I've used a slow cooker and not the ancestral bean pot so they may not be perfection. But I must have a pretty good reputation, at least with those who have eaten them before: the boy is going to his dad's after school prior to going to night class and this morning he asked me to stop by on my way home and give him some beans. Sweet Saskatchewan Lobster I love that boy.
One of the things that for whatever reason humours people who know about it is that over the course of about three years I worked on a baked bean recipe, striving to make them be as close as they could be to....canned beans. Why? Because I LIKE canned beans. But can't eat them. Even when they don't have added pork, they do have bacon in the cooking part (as I discovered after a rush trip to the hospital. So just because the ingredients list doesn't say bacon doesn't mean bacon wasn't involved in the making thereof), and as a consequence I can't eat them. But I want them.
So I make the recipe that was three years in the making. The problem - and here is where I step onto the crazy ship lollypop as far as my co-workers are concerned - is that I had already started the long and tedious task when I realized that a) I had no sweet onion. In fact, no onion at all and b) I was working lunch on the desk and wouldn't be able to zip home. So I did what any right thinking person would do:
I brought it to work, and at morning coffee break ran next door and bought a big sweet onion. Which I took upstairs to the coffee room and chopped and tossed into the beans already in the slow cooker. There is still salt pork, but I had it made for me without the nitrite. This is the first time I've used a slow cooker and not the ancestral bean pot so they may not be perfection. But I must have a pretty good reputation, at least with those who have eaten them before: the boy is going to his dad's after school prior to going to night class and this morning he asked me to stop by on my way home and give him some beans. Sweet Saskatchewan Lobster I love that boy.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving sucked. OK, not entirely but still. I love my family but I had none of them with me. My dad is in BC, as is my sister and brother-in-law, as is a semi-sister. I have two other semi-sisters, but one is in Edmonton and the other had to work. Although we did get enough time in to have a slice of pie together so I did have a smidge of family time.
What I did have big time was a headache. As a matter of fact I wouldn't be surprised to be told that my MRI revealed a large number of microscopic miners in my head, all of them working feverishly away with their little pickaxes.
Despite the lack of family and the lack of good health I - for no good reason other than I like leftovers - cooked a turkey. With stuffing. And I baked a pie. Which I did get a piece of, as did MayB. I would have had a second piece but in my headache driven stupidity I left the remainder of the pie on the table. And it's a given that anything left on the table will be consumed by the large black beast that roams the house pretending that no one ever feeds her.
The kids think that the little puppy talked big puppy into knocking said pie onto the floor and that he got some but large puppy definitely was definitely doing the "I-just-ate-the-rest-of-the-pie" guilt crawl, so I'm pretty sure she got it all. I suppose that is one way to diet; make sure all fattening left-overs are within reach of the dog.
I was faced the next day with the bird. Or what remained after the carving fight (if I'd filmed my "carving", it would be a hit on youtube. It was a fight to the finish...and the dead bird won). I packaged up enough for two really large turkey pies, and one meal of hot turkey sandwiches. I gave the stuffing to the dogs and then I made stock with the bits and pieces. Lots of stock. Many many cups of it. 32 cups, actually. It's a good thing we eat a lot of soup over the course of a winter, because that is a whole lot of stock.
My main regret is that I made the pie - because I can't bring myself to go the tinned route - with butternut squash and something from the garden. Because I'm pretty sure that big puppy didn't take the time to consider how much better a pie is when you start from scratch. I'm not even sure she took the time to savour it. I've seen her in action, it really is more of a pelican-with-a-fish gulping thing that she does.
What I did have big time was a headache. As a matter of fact I wouldn't be surprised to be told that my MRI revealed a large number of microscopic miners in my head, all of them working feverishly away with their little pickaxes.
Despite the lack of family and the lack of good health I - for no good reason other than I like leftovers - cooked a turkey. With stuffing. And I baked a pie. Which I did get a piece of, as did MayB. I would have had a second piece but in my headache driven stupidity I left the remainder of the pie on the table. And it's a given that anything left on the table will be consumed by the large black beast that roams the house pretending that no one ever feeds her.
The kids think that the little puppy talked big puppy into knocking said pie onto the floor and that he got some but large puppy definitely was definitely doing the "I-just-ate-the-rest-of-the-pie" guilt crawl, so I'm pretty sure she got it all. I suppose that is one way to diet; make sure all fattening left-overs are within reach of the dog.
I was faced the next day with the bird. Or what remained after the carving fight (if I'd filmed my "carving", it would be a hit on youtube. It was a fight to the finish...and the dead bird won). I packaged up enough for two really large turkey pies, and one meal of hot turkey sandwiches. I gave the stuffing to the dogs and then I made stock with the bits and pieces. Lots of stock. Many many cups of it. 32 cups, actually. It's a good thing we eat a lot of soup over the course of a winter, because that is a whole lot of stock.
My main regret is that I made the pie - because I can't bring myself to go the tinned route - with butternut squash and something from the garden. Because I'm pretty sure that big puppy didn't take the time to consider how much better a pie is when you start from scratch. I'm not even sure she took the time to savour it. I've seen her in action, it really is more of a pelican-with-a-fish gulping thing that she does.
For reals, people.
As you can tell from the list, I occasionally take a peek at photoshop disasters. They're not all disasters, but still, they're entertaining. And if you read the comments, there are apparently large handfuls of people willing to argue as to whether some is a disaster or merely bad. Where do they get the time? Or, for that matter, desire?
Anyway...there I was in belly dancing class, despairing over my inability to bend like an overcooked piece of spaghetti, when my eye, in a desparate attempt to not have to look into the mirrors that line the walls saw the arm of the woman across the room from me. And my first thought was "that arm is SO photoshopped. What a disaster". But then my brain caught up with me. Because I was looking at an actual arm. I'm telling you, though, it was so photoshopped it was creepy. Where was the elbow? And why was it so much longer that her other arm? It is only supposed to be CALLED snake arms. You're not actually supposed to have an elbowless monstrosity in place of your arm.
And then I got smacked - accidentally - by the woman next to me because I hadn't kept moving to my right. So I stopped staring at the creepy arm. But it fills my nightmares even yet.
Anyway...there I was in belly dancing class, despairing over my inability to bend like an overcooked piece of spaghetti, when my eye, in a desparate attempt to not have to look into the mirrors that line the walls saw the arm of the woman across the room from me. And my first thought was "that arm is SO photoshopped. What a disaster". But then my brain caught up with me. Because I was looking at an actual arm. I'm telling you, though, it was so photoshopped it was creepy. Where was the elbow? And why was it so much longer that her other arm? It is only supposed to be CALLED snake arms. You're not actually supposed to have an elbowless monstrosity in place of your arm.
And then I got smacked - accidentally - by the woman next to me because I hadn't kept moving to my right. So I stopped staring at the creepy arm. But it fills my nightmares even yet.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
3.14etc
I have my babies with me this year for Christmas, but not Thanksgiving. That's ok - it is when they are away from me for Christmas that I go insane. Insaner? Anyway...still making a turkey because I both need and want Turkey pie. And turkey sandwiches.
I am also planning on making a pie. And having one piece. Because if I don't give away the pie I'll eat more than one piece and so help me if I'm not svelte by this time next year I'll run away to a fat farm. And yes, I'm making a pie instead of going somewhere and buying a single piece ,because Sweet Saskatchewan Lobster if I get one treat a week - or one every two weeks - it sure as sugar isn't going to be some storebought cardboard monstrosity.
I am also planning on making a pie. And having one piece. Because if I don't give away the pie I'll eat more than one piece and so help me if I'm not svelte by this time next year I'll run away to a fat farm. And yes, I'm making a pie instead of going somewhere and buying a single piece ,because Sweet Saskatchewan Lobster if I get one treat a week - or one every two weeks - it sure as sugar isn't going to be some storebought cardboard monstrosity.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Not a Stork
As well as taking belly dancing lessons I've started taking Yoga. And it turns out that I...I can't stand on one leg. Not for long. And not with any grace or stability either. I'm doing the Yoga with Wii Fit. So at the end of the two poses that involved standing on one leg I always get a very calm voice saying "you seem a little shakey" or, even better "you put your other foot down didn't you?" YES. Yes stupid little man in a box I put my frickin foot down. It seemed preferable to flailing my arms around and crashing into the coffee table. So BACK OFF.
It's all in the wording
My second most favourite bit from the trip (ok, there were only three but that's better than nothing) was a sign we drove by the read "Can't read this sign? Call us at 555-xxxx, we can help".
Friday, October 03, 2008
Because I'm your MOM, that's why.
So yesterday went far away in a handbasket as I got news that there is some sort of problem with my son's heart. They want to do more extensive testing right away...today in fact. They said to not panic (do they ever say "go ahead and panic, by the way"?) but that they needed to get moving on things. So we're going today and I'm trying - with a complete lack of success - to not worry about it.
My boy must think I'm crazy, though: yesterday getting out of the car ( a few hours after I'd got the news) he said he chest hurt. So I PANIC. Just about leap down his throat. "What do you mean, hurts? How badly? Where (don't know why I asked that, I'm pretty sure his heart is where it always is) does it hurt? What's happening? TALK TO ME."
Umm...mom...I did a fitness test at school and my arms and chest are sore. Just...sore. OK?
Ah. Ok. I'm fine for now.
My boy must think I'm crazy, though: yesterday getting out of the car ( a few hours after I'd got the news) he said he chest hurt. So I PANIC. Just about leap down his throat. "What do you mean, hurts? How badly? Where (don't know why I asked that, I'm pretty sure his heart is where it always is) does it hurt? What's happening? TALK TO ME."
Umm...mom...I did a fitness test at school and my arms and chest are sore. Just...sore. OK?
Ah. Ok. I'm fine for now.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Meaghan Smith
Last night I went to see Ron Sexsmith at the Exchange. I'd never heard any of his music but I'm trying to get out more (something I clearly need to do, given the looks of incredulity my babies flashed at me when I said I was going out) so I went.
Turns out that it wasn't the headline act that was fantastic but the opening act. Don't get me wrong, Ron was good but Meaghan was excellent. So I bought the four song extended disc and am looking forward to the full album's release early next year.
Her music is cheerful, and really really hard not to want to sing/dance to. She herself is totally adorable too. Pretty, actually. She looks like Ky to be honest. They are both a mere pretty until you look at their eyes and then you realize that they're beyond mere pretty. They both have the kind of eyes that romance writers make their heroiones have. The kind of eyes that latin musicians write about. Hmm. Sounds like I have a bit of a crush on Meaghan. Not for her, if you're worried, but certainly for her music. So go out and listen to her if you have a chance!
Turns out that it wasn't the headline act that was fantastic but the opening act. Don't get me wrong, Ron was good but Meaghan was excellent. So I bought the four song extended disc and am looking forward to the full album's release early next year.
Her music is cheerful, and really really hard not to want to sing/dance to. She herself is totally adorable too. Pretty, actually. She looks like Ky to be honest. They are both a mere pretty until you look at their eyes and then you realize that they're beyond mere pretty. They both have the kind of eyes that romance writers make their heroiones have. The kind of eyes that latin musicians write about. Hmm. Sounds like I have a bit of a crush on Meaghan. Not for her, if you're worried, but certainly for her music. So go out and listen to her if you have a chance!
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Oh Curves, Please. As if!
So there I am at Curves with my girl working out. And they have a sign that says "is your 30 minutes at Curves the toughest 30 minutes of your day? If not, talk to a staff member!".
No, working out - even pushing it is not that hard in comparison. Start asking me to find things, pay for things, sign things and maybe I'll agree. But for the moment the hardest 30 minutes are right before we three leave in the morning:
Mom, Lexi escaped and Jazz is eating garbage...and I think my lunch.
Can you sign this paper because if it isn't in today I can't go on a field trip. Oh, and I'll need money.
Mom, A took my lunch because the dog took his
Mom, where are my jeans?
I need a cheque for band
I need to be at school early
I told a friend you could give them a ride
Where's the toothpaste
M. caught Lexi in the park but now she's all muddy, what do you want us to do?
I can't find the bottle for the rabbits hutch. I filled it with water and put it down somewhere.
I'm going to dad's after school, can someone else come home for the dogs?
Did you put anything with nuts in my lunch because I'm going to a friends house and his sister is allergic
Mom, I can't find the homework I printed last night.
mommommommmommommommommommommommom
That half hour work out is a sweaty bit of peace in my day.
No, working out - even pushing it is not that hard in comparison. Start asking me to find things, pay for things, sign things and maybe I'll agree. But for the moment the hardest 30 minutes are right before we three leave in the morning:
Mom, Lexi escaped and Jazz is eating garbage...and I think my lunch.
Can you sign this paper because if it isn't in today I can't go on a field trip. Oh, and I'll need money.
Mom, A took my lunch because the dog took his
Mom, where are my jeans?
I need a cheque for band
I need to be at school early
I told a friend you could give them a ride
Where's the toothpaste
M. caught Lexi in the park but now she's all muddy, what do you want us to do?
I can't find the bottle for the rabbits hutch. I filled it with water and put it down somewhere.
I'm going to dad's after school, can someone else come home for the dogs?
Did you put anything with nuts in my lunch because I'm going to a friends house and his sister is allergic
Mom, I can't find the homework I printed last night.
mommommommmommommommommommommommom
That half hour work out is a sweaty bit of peace in my day.
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