Pixie Dust

Adieu

2010-08-30T09:27:00.001-07:00

R.I.P., P.D.

Is it the end of the dust?

2010-06-23T10:07:00.000-07:00

From Pixie Dust to just plain dust. The joy has gone, so the blog is currently comatose. A merciful death may be in its future. It's been fun.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

2010-06-10T12:49:00.000-07:00

I really really don't like looking in mirrors. Grant you, if I did it more often I'd have fewer incidents of clothes being on inside out. Nevertheless, it is something I go out of my way to avoid.

I don't like seeing myself, and while looking in a mirror won't make me look better that I thougt, there is, - for me - always the fear that somehow I'll look much worse.

And to prove that there is very little to be gained by mirror-checking, here's the sum total of what I learned this morning when I accidentally saw a reflection of myself in mirrored glass:

Yes, there are no other buttons on this shirt, this is as high as it goes.
Wow, that's a lot of warm wooly clothing for the tenth of June.
Born with knobby knees, live with knobby knees, die with knobby knees.

What they all mean.

2010-05-17T15:18:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the delay, but things have been a wee bit crazy lately. But for those of you who, like me, like to find out the meanings of words they’ve never heard of before here are the definitions for the words from here:

Minatory
–adjective
menacing; threatening

Desuetude
–noun
the state of being no longer used or practiced.

Incunabula in•cu•nab•u•la

1.
extant copies of books produced in the earliest stages (before 1501) of printing from movable type.
2.
the earliest stages or first traces of anything

Marmoreal mar•mo•re•al

–adjective
of or like marble: skin of marmoreal smoothness.

Carabosse The wicked fairy godmother, a figure rare in fairy tales, is nevertheless among best-known figures from such tales because of her appearance in one of the most widely known tales, Sleeping Beauty, and in the ballet derived from it. Anonymous in her first appearance, she was later named in some variants Carabosse, and in others Maleficent.
Phagocyte phag•o•cyte
–nounCell Biology.
any cell, as a macrophage, that ingests and destroys foreign particles, bacteria, and cell debris.

Jilt jilt (in the context it was in, she meant the latter definition
–verb (used with object)
1.
to reject or cast aside (a lover or sweetheart), esp. abruptly or unfeelingly.
–noun
2.
a woman who jilts a lover.

Swingeing swinge•ing
–adjectiveChiefly British.
1.
enormous; thumping.
2.
Slang. swinging

Inelecutable in•e•luc•ta•ble
–adjective
incapable of being evaded; inescapable: an ineluctable destiny.

Vitever apparently this is some sort of grass: From Ananda Aromatherapy, pure essential oil of Vetiver, steam distiled from from the roots of the herb organically grown in Sri Lanka. This is a lovely soft and earthy Vetiver...an outstanding variety both aromatically and therapeutically.

Because it's worth the research

2010-05-11T08:27:00.000-07:00

I bake. I bake things, not myself. Although August in Saskatchewan...yes, sometimes people themselves bake but that's another story.

I bake when: I'm happy, angry, sad, tired, frustrated, excited - in fact I think the only thing that baking doesn't make better is migraines. But who knows? I've never tried baking with a migraine; perhaps I'm missing out on the most productive cure ever.

Oops - way off track. Anyway, when a friend's life had to change drastically, I threw myself into doing something about it. Lots of experiments and lots of research.

Lots of reading, too. I've learned about things that are interesting in their own right (Like Britain's 1953 flour order), and things that I am hoping will help me in my quest. Things from other countries, sometimes in English, sometimes in languages that I can read and sometimes in languages that I have to find someone to help me out with. Which in itself has made me want to learn Arabic.

Drat - off topic again. I figured if I went back in time (oh, I really wish I could mean that literally) I would have a much better understanding of what I am trying to accomplish. So I read books from the early 1900's. Not good enough. So I went back a hundred years. Still not good enough. How far back did I go? Fifteen hundreds. Very helpful, if difficult to get trhough at times. Very helpful, though, and there were occasionally words that a) I didn't understand until I looked them up and b) should come back into circulation because they're awesome.

For your reading pleasure here is a bit from Thomas Muffet's Health's Improvement. Written @ 1595, published in 1655 by Samuel Thomson at the Sign of the White Horse in St. Paul's Churchyard:

"the water must be pure, from a clear river or spring" (HA! Don't even think about trying that today), the salt must ve very white, finely beaten, not too much nor too little , but to give an indifferent seasoning. The leaven must be made of pure wheate, it must not be too old least it prove too soure, nor too new least it work to no purpose. When a just proportion is kept betwixt them both Leaven corrects the meals imperfection, making altogether a well relished mass called Bread which is justly termed the staff of life...loaves made of pure wheaten-meal require both more leaven and more labouring, and more baking , than either coarse cheate or than bread mingled of meal and grudgins".

Seriously, shouldn't we start using grudgins again? Ok, they're just the coarsest particlles of husk and bran but still - I'd like to say "grudgins" the next time someone asks me what I had for breakfast.

And this genre of dance is what, exactly?

2010-05-07T14:19:00.000-07:00

So Tuesday night's dance class was...interesting. This is belly dancing, yes? Arabic music, fluid movement, the whole nine yards.

We had a substiture teacher (whose full time career is being a ministry of education substiture teacher) and the music was...the Beatles....reggae style. Yeah, confused me too. Not to mention that despite being a lovely dancer, she didn't seem to have a sense of rhythm. Which would almost be worth suffering with if I could shimmy like she does.

Common Sense 101

2010-05-07T13:21:00.000-07:00

You know what should be obvious but apparently isn't? Not to everyone, that is. You can't leave a message about when you're going to be over to fix the phone that doesn't work on the phone that doesn't work.

Definitions

2010-05-04T14:34:00.000-07:00

At the end of the week I'll add definitions to the previous post. In the meantime here is one for today: Jilt. A woman who is a harlot, originally, then one who is a harlot AND dumps a guy. Hence the term "jilted".

The List

2010-05-04T10:39:00.000-07:00

Remember this? Well I'm done the book. Many of her books, actually, but I'm done with the one that required reading with a dictionary to hand.

So now you can look at the list. And I'm no longer worrying about how many of you know some or all of the words on the list. Because one thing I did get through my thick skull from this read: the world is full of wonderful words. I could read a novel a day until I'm ninety and not know them all, so I'll be content with knowing a fair amount of them. And here, for your reading (and perhaps gloating) pleasure is the list:

Minatory
Desuetude
Incunabula
Marmoreal
Carabosse
Phagocyte
Jilt (yes, I know the word but I’ve never seen it used as a type of person, as in “she was such a jilt)
Swingeing
Ineluctable (I wasn’t sure I knew this word, turns out that my guess was right but since I wasn’t absolutely sure I’ve put it on the list anyway)
Vitever

I miss the elevator

2010-04-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

We don't have an office on the third floor anymore, so no more belly dance practicing elevator rides. And I'm kinda missing it. I do sometimes work on a Turkish shimmy when I'm walking if there isn't anyone around but it's not the same. And there is nowhere - people around or not - nowhere to practice chest popping.

Pretty as a Picture

2010-04-26T07:56:00.000-07:00

I put winter clothes away and brought summer clothes out over Easter. And for the first time in years, instead of having to keep on box of summer things away because everything was too small, I've been able to fit the dresses as well as filling the box with winter things that are too big that I will be giving away. Woot!

So here I am, at work on Boobquake day wearing a lovely pink and black dress. I know it's pretty, that is. No one else does because I've had to bury myself in the spare sweater I keep at work. Big warm and bulky, which is good. It is FREEZING in here. I guess I put the winter clothes away a little too soon. Spring on the prairies - always a surprise.

When sleep deserts you

2010-04-22T10:07:00.000-07:00

There are some good things about not being able to fall asleep. Not, unfortunately, if falling asleep is a real problem but if it is a rare occurrence then some good can come of it.

First, if you run a bath at four in the morning, NO ONE bothers you. There are no requests for car borrowing, money loaning, permission granting, cheque signing, snack finding, cookie making. You can have a full hour of sheer bliss.

Also, if breakfast is your favourite meal to make (as it is for me), you can make crêpe batter at five and let it sit for a full hour before cooking them up. And then you can do things like…

Take a handful of brown sugar, and liquefy it. Carefully! Then pour in whipping cream. Being careful not to be burnt by spitting sugar, naturally. Then you whisk it to creamy smoothness, add apple chunks, some cinnamon and a pinch of sea salt. Yes, you read that correctly. Caramel + salt are a lovely combination. In time, once things have simmered for a while you can cook your crêpes, fill them with cinnamon toffee apples, fold them up, drizzle some syrup on top and maybe some whipped cream and then a few maple flakes and then – well, then you stop. Because it’s just breakfast, not some competition.

Have to say waking people up with a hot breakfast already made is more effective than a bucket of cold water. The best, though, is baking something like cinnamon buns. Then people actually walk out of their bedrooms of their own accord, like hungry zombies looking for buns, not brains.

I’m a bit worried about supper. I figure if I stay awake that long the best I’ll be able to come up with is the suggestion that perhaps we should all fast. NOT a good choice with one of the “we” is a teenage boy!

More than Words

2010-04-15T14:54:00.000-07:00

I’m on my second Victoria Clayton book. I’ve decided to make a list of all the words I’ve had to look up, so I can post it whenever I’ve finished with the spate of Clayton reading.

I’ll probably find that instead of reading too much I don’t’ read anywhere near enough. Every time I’ve come across a new word the head voice (the one that is always quick to remind you that you’re not pretty enough, smart enough, kind enough, rich enough, skinny enough….it’s an endless list, almost) says “Betcha Ky knows that word. Allison probably does too. You’re an idiot”.

Some of the words I’ll never be able to use (kibe), but at least I’ll know what they mean! You know what I would like though? I’d like jargon from the 20’s to make a come back. I’m dying to call some guy a cuddle cootie.

No sugar tonight in my coffee

2010-04-15T09:53:00.000-07:00

No sugar tonight in my tea. Or tomorrow, or the day after or the day after that. I've become so used to eating a healthy balanced diet- 12 weeks as of the 12th of April! - that I need a new challenge. I went an entire year with sugarless tea. I didn't enjoy it as much as sweetened tea, but when I went back to sugar in my tea I used a lot less, so it was a good plan.

Now, however, there is a lot less sugar in my diet overall so I don't think it will be as difficult an adjustment as it was the first time. We'll see in a few weeks: today is my first day of unsweetened tea. And if you were going to suggest artificial sweetener that's ok, I've already tried them all.I can always taste the chemical aftertaste with them. Better to have nothing than a cup of bitter metal tasting ickyness.

New music on the Box

2010-04-13T10:39:00.000-07:00

Seems my most recent new discoveries music-wise (say for the last couple of years) have been either things that The Boy has added to my ipod (like Prodigy) or stuff from shows like Bones. The latter means a lot of weepy songs.

I'm including three. I've never looked at the video for the first, because I don't want to know what the guy looks like. His voice is so awesomely grief laden that I don't want it ruined by some cheerful chubby faced singing teenager. Because you never know what you'll find behind the voice these days. Anyway, the song (and the band, because I love their stuff in general) is She Just Wept.

I also really like I Hurt Too by Katie Herzog. And yes, I cried during this episode. Many times. I'm a baby.

One more? Why not. So, also from Bones, You by Fisher.

Say What?

2010-04-13T10:15:00.000-07:00

I like a book that isn’t written for grade eighters. I really hate classes on writing that insist that this is the level you should write for. Surely if we always aim for a grade eight audience eventually we’ll find that there are those that find it too lofty and we’ll have to aim for grade seven? And then six? At some point people who can read will be the elite minority. I digress. Sorry.

So yes, when an author has a word that I don’t know I am quite pleased. I look it up so I have a new word and I continue on with reading. The author I am currently reading (Victoria Clayton) is turning out to be quite the wordsmith. I’ve come across three unfamiliar words so far. It is far more usual to find three words in every hundred books read, so three in the first hundred pages of a single book is amazing. I think I’ll keep a paper in the back of the book to write things down as by the time I’d found a dictionary I’d forgotten the first word I wanted to check. The second word was tumid (in the context of the story, the first definition in the OED, "swollen". Also means bombastic). The third word, the one that made me stop right then and there to search for a definition was this: deliquescent.

Now maybe you know what this means. Kudos to you, that’s pretty good. Maybe I should learn Latin, to help with etymology. Anyway, I had to look it up. Not that the dictionary gave me an answer that solved it for me. Their definition was:
1.
the act or process of deliquescing.
2.
the substance produced when something deliquesces.

Ah, I see. Totally clear now. Sigh. Back to OED online. So, what does deliquesce mean?

–verb (used without object),-quesced, -quesc•ing.
1.
to become liquid by absorbing moisture from the air, as certain salts.
2.
to melt away.
3.
Botany. to form many small divisions or branches.

Does this count as continuing education?

Things your mother should tell you.

2010-04-08T12:45:00.000-07:00

You know how y'all get on my case about the...ummm... overspending on things that no one but I ever end up seeing? Well, let me tell you, I'm glad I did. Do. Whatever.

Because whilst your mother probably told you to always wear clean underwear in case you are in a car accident (apparently EMS people and trauma nurses are more uptight about clean undies than blood, gore and various bits of dismembered limbs), you know what else you should have been told?

Wear pretty underpinnings just in case, on a day when you're wearing shoes that really you shouldn't be wearing, you trip and fall landing in an ungainly heap with a torn dress. Because that would be a terrible time to be wearing ancient gray baggy underwear.

There, now you know.

et tu pain perdu

2010-04-07T07:16:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a McDonald's hamburger in over ten years. Or any other fast food hamburger for that matter. Why? Because they grill their burgers on the same grill they fry bacon. It isn't enough to send me to hospital with a reaction the the nitrites, but it is enough to make me very sick indeed, so no more burgers out. Same goes for eggs. If I have eggs in a restaurant (and I love an eggy breakfast) then I choose poached eggs.

The poached egg decision really started when I DID have to go to the Hospital after having egg and toast at a local breakfast place. Turned out that at the time they fried their eggs in bacon fat. Why? Because it was there, and it was cheap. I don't know if they still do but it doesn't matter, eggs fried on the same grill as bacon may not kill me, but they will certainly make me sick.

You'd think I would have worked out the grill thing, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong. I went out for supper last night, and had French toast. That in itself is odd. I normally don't pay for something in a restaurant that I make easily and well at home. Nevertheless, that's what I did. And of course....they fry their French Toast (or pain perdu as we call it) on the same grill that they cook their bacon.

Sigh. So what lessons did I learn last night? a) anything that is grilled or fried in a restaurant is likely to have some contact with bacon, at least anything breakfast-y is, b) French toast is better going down than coming up and c) fair skinned people look terrible and blotchy when they've been sick. Really really terrible, and really really blotchy.

Immature mind. In the literal sense.

2010-04-06T10:16:00.000-07:00

Through a rather convoluted route I ended up re-reading Day of the Triffids. If you’re involved in Agriculture and/or international trade this won’t seem an odd choice. To everyone else it may be. Anyway, I re-read it.

When did I first read it? Grade four. Or maybe grade five. I’m trying to remember which teacher said she thought it was inappropriate. One of those years, at any rate. And don’t worry, not all of my reading was like that. I had shelves full of Nancy Drew, The Happy Hollisters, The Hardy Boys and Cherry Ames too. I may have been a reading nut, but I was a well-balanced nut!

What I’ve come to realize with reading it this time around is that it is a completely different book than it was the first time. Oh, sure, the words are all the same. But reading it then, it was just a story. The deeper points went sailing over my wee little head. It was like reading a completely different book this time.

And now I’m wondering about the rest of the John Wyndham books. Maybe I should read them again too? And various other authors who no doubt were doing more than just telling a story, although I won’t go so far as to agree with those who see deep political importance in The Hobbit. Lord of the Rings trilogy yes, The Hobbit, no. But I could be wrong about that. I was wrong about Triffids, after all!

The Alter Ego

2010-03-31T13:20:00.001-07:00

I find it vastly amusing when a movie or tv program that I am watching has a character with the same name as someone I am friends with. Not so enjoyable if the name is something like John or Mary, but when it's an unusual-ish name like Ky, then it is AWESOME.

This happened just last night, so I'm still having a good time with it. We were watching NCIS, and the bad guy - or woman, as it happened - was called Kai. Different spelling but the point is we spent an hour hearing about what an incredibly brilliant assasin Ky was. A genious. Unstopabble. And who's to say they're wrong? Maybe our Ky IS a brilliant assasin. Could happen!

How to Shop Less on Vacation

2010-03-31T13:10:00.001-07:00

I am back from my extended BC vacation. And even though I was there longer, I spent less money. How is this possible? The trick is to be busy. The kind of busy you might be if you were helping a sister and brother-in-law with two month old twins. Yes, that kind of busy.

Not that I returned with out spending anything. Duh. A couple of things for friends and babies, some hard to find ingredients, bacon and ham (and score, Chorizo!) without nitrites/nitrates and some dark maple syrup and I was done. Oh, and a pair of sandals.

*Before I get blasted again for spending money on things no one sees, it's better than having the more common shoe weakness, isn't it? Less expensive, at any rate!

Never never never.

2010-03-23T14:39:00.000-07:00

You know what you should never ask someone? Not even if:

You've been searching for a particular ingredient.

You've been thinking about this ingredient to the point where you've forgotten the words have other meanings.

You're frustrated after searching more than half a dozen stores for said ingredient.

The thing you should never ask is "where do you go when you're looking for good sized breasts?"

Unless, of course, you do want to know that. All I want to know is where I can buy CHICKEN breasts of a decent size, in order to make a stuffed chicken recipe that I've been wanting to do for ages but had to wait until I had ham from BC. The breasts - sorry, chicken breasts - at the local grocery stores have so far been flat and unsuitable for stuffing.

Math 101

2010-03-05T06:45:00.000-08:00

So here I am at my last day of work prior to a very long vacation. Very long for me, that is. Perhaps y'all take months off at a time, jaunting around the globe.

As was to be expected, despite having cleared up my list of things I wanted to get done before I left, I arrived at work to find a list of five things someone wants me to complete before I leave. The heading for the email?
"One last thing to do before you leave". Apparently five is the new one.

Zut Alors, it iz 'ere!

2010-02-18T12:29:00.001-08:00

So, my parcel from Victoria's Secret arrived today. Dress is gorgeous. They described the colour as blackberry and I'm telling you that is exactly what it is. I've picked many a wild blackberry and I know what I'm talking about.

The two t-shirts are very...Victoria-y. Not in this sense. In this one.

No, not EXACTLY like that. It's just...well, I thought I was getting a regular person t-shirt. Nice summer wear. But the v neck of the thing. Sweet Saskatchewan Pineapple that thing dips. It's like they knew...EXACTLY...where my underpinnings ended. And the material clings like fuzz on a peach. Except over the tummy part which I didn't expect but was happy to see. It's not Empire, all loose and flowing, but it's not every-dimple-and-roll-showing tight either.

So I don't have two simple summer wear shirts, same style two colours. What I have are two very V.S. type tops with a curtained stage for the girls to be front and centre. Not that they're ever back and off side - although I've worked in nursing homes I'm sure that particular joy still aways me - it's just that there will be less looking at my face when I wear them that there might have been. Whether they'll ever get worn, outside, where other people can see...well, that may never happen. Ever.

Pretty in Pink

2010-02-17T11:36:00.000-08:00

Most of the time having little feet is a problem. Not an unsurmountable problem but a problem nevertheless.

For instance, if I want to buy some grown-up dress shoes, I end up spending lots of money and/or time. For the most part I just have to buy them a little big and then buy inserts. ‘Course, if I ever want patent leather Mary Janes I’d have it made in the shade.

Sometimes, though, I like buying kid stuff. F’rinstance: I wanted to get some comfortable billy boots for a trip to BC. The store I went to had some really cute daisy ones in the grown up section. Cute, but waaaay too big, even with inserts. So I went to the little girls section. Found some boots that were loose at size four but perfect at size three. And they’re pink! With polka dots! And I didn’t pay tax on them. Why not? Because they didn’t ask who they were for, that’s why. If they ask, I say yes, they’re for me, and I pay the tax. They don’t ask, I don’t tell. This balances out the fact that I’ve been paying tax on footwear for The Girl since she was ten or so. Seriously, her feet are huge. Or maybe mine are just stupidly small.

The Why of it all.

2010-02-10T11:40:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to tell you everything I got from V.S., but I can tell you why I got one of the things. The thing is, I bought a pair of boots. The type - or height - I've been looking for for decades. Oh sure, they're easy to find, just not easy to afford. But find some I did, my size, good price. So I bought them. And really, don't you think they need an outfit of their own? Don't they?

Not that much of a secret

2010-02-10T09:51:00.000-08:00

So, I'll be single on Valentine's day. No biggie, really. But the normal temptation to deal with any potential whinging would be reading a book and scarfing chocolate fudge. Which sounds nice - great, even - but eating sweets right now would not be good. Not good at any time, I guess, but why ruin a healthy-eating streak now?

I've decided to deal with Valentines in advance. How? Buying something lingerie-like. "No surprise there", you think to yourselves. "She does that all the time". Well, yes, but you know what I've never done? Ordered something from Victoria's Secret. I can no longer say that, because I did. Just now. Thank you online shopping!

Thin Ice, Big Puppy, Thin Ice

2010-02-08T07:27:00.000-08:00

Remember this?

I left for work one morning last week, and was very careful making sure there wasn't anything the puppies could eat. Not easy, because that means not only no garbage left behind, but nothing that resembles food. Doesn't have to actually BE food for Big Puppy to give it a try just in case.

Went off to work secure in the mistaken belief that all would be well when I got home. Oh the wrongness of it all.

When I reached the kitchen it was to discover that the floor was a sticky mess. Why? Because Big Puppy had been into the cupboard with the three level lazy susan. It's where I keep spices and various other things.

The cupboard door was open. Jars of various sizes were all over the floor, some open and spillied some still tightly closed. The cupboard was a mess of knocked over jars as well. And why did B.P. go to all the effort of opening the door and twirling the lazy susan around? Apparently so she could eat most of the bag of dark brown sugar, and pretty much all of the balck decorative sugar. That night and the next day she was as subdued as she's ever been. Stupid dog.

Turns out The Girl was right about the black sugar being deep dark green instead of black. How do I know this? Because I'm the one that walks the puppies and consequently does the scooping when there's pooping. Be thankful I didn't take pictures because I'd be posting them if I had.

I Can Sing A Rainbow

2010-02-05T12:32:00.001-08:00

I have an idea for a new cookie recipe. For which I needed dried strawberries. Not freeze dried, just dried, like cranberries and cherries. I also needed durum semolina flour. I can buy it in a giant bag at one place, or a more reasonable amount at the same place that has strawberries. That place would be Bulk Barn (Thanks, J.D.!). I needed the semolina for this weekend, so I went yesterday. With a shopping list of two things: berries, flour. Easy, yes?

Well. I spent just over $70.00 (curse you J.D.!). I got the berries, and lots of semolina. I also got the yummy bones the dogs like (they claim they’re yummy, I don’t have any personal experience), really really dark brown sugar, white chocolate couverture, pecan meal, pecans, natural sliced almonds, Turkish Delight for The Boy, yeast, pepitas, parchment paper which, I should tell you, they sell for more than $2.00 less per roll than anywhere else I’ve purchased it, and instant sugar.

Most of this is stuff I need for various baking orders. I only went off track a little, really. Ok, maybe I didn’t need the bright pink decorative sugar crystals. Or the black ones (which are in reality a very dark green) but seriously…pink sugar! And black decorative sugar, how awesome is that? I think I showed a great deal of restraint in not buying decorative sugar in orange, sky blue, deep purple and lemon yellow. They had other colours, too, I think. Red, maybe? I don’t remember I was overwhelmed as it was with hot pink and greeny-black.

So over all I am glad that J.D. told me about Bulk Barn. Not just because they have good prices but because they have a lot of unusual dried fruits/flours/sugars/pulses. It’s up in the north end of the city, but worth checking out if you bake. Or snack – their selection of gummi things and salty things and sugary things was extensive. They’re just verboten, so I don’t look too closely at what they have.

I’ll let you know if the cookie idea was a good one or a terrible one. I may even be looking for tasters!

Ups & Downs

2010-02-02T07:06:00.000-08:00

Down:
Had to spend money on a tow truck to get the car out of a snow bank*.

Up:
Car is fine, Boy is fine, just feeling a little guilty which is not a bad thing.

Down:
Working with one arm in a sling, and icing it at work and not being able to take pain killers because I'm at work.

Up:
No break, just ligament damage. So no cast, and apparently a broken elbow is a terrible break to get, so this is a really good up.

Down:
Arm won't feel fully useful for a month.

Up:
I have a month before I go visit The Wee Girl and The Wee Boy.

Down: I totally suck at choosing clothes.

Up: My friends rock at choosing clothes, and at choosing clothes on sale.

Down: I want to eat doughnuts. Thanks, Mayb.

Up: NOT eating doughnuts and exercising is starting to show a little bit in the mirror. The mirror that I had to look in to see if I liked the clothes The Girls had me try on. Which I did. Hooray for girlfriends!

Down: There are no other downs. None!

Up: See above. Surely it is an up that there are no other downs?

* The Boy and his friend tried getting it out Sunday night, when it went in. Yesterday The Boy and various other strong teenage boys tried pushing it out with me driving. Didn't budge. Even the tow truck driver said he had to give it quite a pull to get it out. So no, I didn't cave and call for a tow truck right off the bat. We did try other alternatives.

It's all in the timing.

2010-01-28T06:52:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to buy some decent shoes for walking and running. Normally I workout/jog barefoot, and if I'm working out outside (during the few months I am willing to do that)I wear cheap shoes from Wal-mart.

Now that I'm an aunt, though, and an aunt that will be visiting her niece and nephew for two whole weeks in the near future I decided I should buy some proper shoes. I remember from my own babies how much walking with a stroller I did and I intend to do the same with these new family memebers.

I went to Sportchek and bought some real people shoes. Had to buy something to make them fit (kids shoes fit, but aren't cushioned for grown-ups), which added to the expense of course. Nevertheless, I was happy to have spent the money, because everyone knows it is bad for your feet and knees to run barefoot. Right? RIGHT?

Because it's what we do.

2010-01-27T07:21:00.000-08:00

Everyone has been blogging about the giant storm. We had snow that started late Friday night(after freezing rain at the airport on Thursday and fog Friday morning), and ended in the wee hours on Monday. I delievered bread Saturday morning in an incredible blur of snow and ice and didn't drive anywhere again until Monday.

Monday we had to go. If it weren't for exams at school I would have kept us all home. As it was, about three blocks before school - at the point where you turn right for the school, left for the main drag - traffic stopped. Completely and totally stopped. We sat there for ten minutes before the kids started panicking about getting to school on time. So they got out of the car and joined the other kids pouring out of the other cars and started walking. I turned left and took the long way to work.

The long way that took much longer than it would have on any other winter day because of course people stop to help those that are stuck. A little bit, I'm sure, because you never know when you may be the one looking for help. But mainly because the people here are friendly and helpful. Helping is what we do. Young and old, we help out. For instance:

The Boy went to school wearing a jacket, mitts and a toque. No boots. Nevertheless by the time the day was done he had helped push 14 cars and one snow mobile out of the snow. Why would a snow mobile need help? Due to a typical teenage mix of smart and not so smart.

Someone at the school went there by snowmobile. Smart! On the trip home he tried to take it through a back alley. Not so smart! A back alley with light and fluffy six foot high snowdrifts. It went for a little bit and then sunk...and tipped over onto its side. After that rescue The Boy called to ask me to come and get him. It had taken them at least twenty minutes to drag the thing out of the alley. It sure wasn't going forward, and they don't drive backwards at all. The got it right side up, and then dragged it out. All of this in snow up to The Boy's shoulders. When I got him he was soaked and had snow everywhere. We went home- stopping once to help another stuck vehicle - and not only were his shoes snow-encrusted, there was snow down his jeans, in his shirt and in the hood of the jacket. We even had to shake snow out of his jacket pockets! As cold as he was, he got rid of all the snow and came with me to do some grocery shopping which he LOATHES, so I wouldn't be driving alone with the possibility of being stuck myself. We weren't stuck, but we stopped for two more cars that deep in snow banks. I was a little bit sore in the shoulders yesterday morning but The Boy...he was a mess of aches and pains. But he said that he didn't mind, people needed the help. This is Saskatchewan, and helping is what we do.

Pendulum Swings

2010-01-27T06:58:00.000-08:00

Life's pendulum is returning from the dark side and one might even say swinging a bit towards the light. The bank finally fixed things, and refunded me the money that I had paid to get things done by a particular date. A date that came and went without anything happening, leaving me stranded and about as close to tears of frustration that I've been in eons. The bank staff here were very helpful. The over-the-phone Ontario people should be glad they're far far away.

One out of three issues related to the car has been dealt with. The second should get started today and be done by tomorrow, and Friday I will do what I would have done last Friday if the bank hadn't messed up. So car-wise, things are ok, or soon will be. Unless there is some further disaster. Which could happen. Far be it from me to court bad luck by saying that nothing could possibly go wrong!

Kid wise I'm getting better. Yes, I meant to say I am getting better. They're fine. I'm just progressing in the whole watching my babies mature anxiety stakes. The Boy went out on Saturday night. He was going to stay at a friends after the concert. Yes, I met the parents first to make sure they would be home. I'm not crazy! One of the other boys was driving them all home after the concert. And I agreed to that. I didn't even let him know how incredibly difficult it was for me to say yes on that front, particularly with the storm that hit on the weekend. But I said yes. And I DIDN'T spend the entire evening - or any part of the evening - picturing him dead in a ditch or buried - and dead - in a snow bank. I'm getting better!

The eating-better-food and making-healthy-snacks plan - as opposed to the forgetting-to-eat and then scarfing-fat-and-sugar plan has now become a routine that I am used to. I'm not going to make light of the first ten days, they were tough. I was hungry, cranky and tired for most of that particular nightmare. But I was determined to soldier through for at least ten days before I thought about quitting. I remembered from working overseas that ten days is about what it takes me to adjust to new foods.

Exercise seems to be going well too. I no longer look at the magic clock (runs on water and lemon juice) hoping that my time would be up. I sometimes even go over now without noticing. I need to be in serious shape, now that I am an aunt. I'm in training for miles of walking with the twins in a double stroller. Six weeks til I get to see them!

The Boy is closer to Cuba, The Girl is closer to her Quebec trip and I am closer to a really long break from work. So life is good!

I don't have time to kick your ass and I'd just as soon shoot you anyway.

2010-01-19T12:53:00.001-08:00

Things in my life have been somewhat stressful as of late. I'm sure that's no surprise, given some of the recent posts.

After a Walmart-face* sort of a morning, things have calmed down. Hooray for meditation and the willingness to make things as plan as possible to irritating bank people. Does this mean I threatened a bank person? Why yes, yes it does.

*What is Walmart-face? It's this: when you are SO ANGRY that as you stride through Walmart on a Saturday the waves of shoppers part before you like the Red Sea. My co-workers kept themselves to themselves as I went from office to copier to office to fax and back, several times. I am upset so infrequently that they knew that whatever it was it would be best to leave me alone. Which was a good call. I had the energy but not the time this morning to kick ass, so I would have been obliged to shoot and move on.

Everyone has the right to be stupid, but some abuse the priveledge.

2010-01-18T11:27:00.000-08:00

Sweet Saskatchewan Lobster. As coat rack is my witness I am not making any of this up:

The Girl lost her wallet. We think. There was one place that it might have been so I said I would call the lost and found and see what was what.

I went online and found the Lost and Found number. I called that number.

I got transferred, because apparently the lost and found number on the site is actually just a general number, despite being called the Lost and Found Contact number.

Told the person I was transferred to what I wanted. Was transferred. Again. Because the number I was transferred was still not the elusive L&F.

The phone rang on and on, and finally the man that made the last transfer was back. Very mystified and apparently asking me why they might not be answering the phone. He was a little irked with me in fact. After all, the computer he was looking at SAID they were in. Where were they?

Having convinced him – maybe – that I had no idea where they were, I asked for their direct phone number. A number that is a secret, since he couldn’t tell me what it was. I don’t know why, and I didn’t want to ask, so I left it there. He suggested I call him directly in half an hour. Maybe then there would be someone in L&F.

About twenty minutes later I called him again. And indeed it was him, the exact same guy. Who proceeded to say that he couldn’t help me, I’d have to call L&F directly. And then he gave me the number. Acting, the whole while, as though we hadn’t JUST TALKED.

I called the number. Except….it wasn’t L&F. It was a totally different area of the company, and the woman who answered the phone had no idea why I’d called her. She suggested that perhaps I should go to the web site and get the correct phone number for L&F. I said thank you and hung up. Why did I not call her several different kinds of stupid? Well, partly because she had not, after all, given me her phone number to call. And maybe she was having a bad day and didn’t know the loops I’d already been through.

I called Bozo back. Told him he’d given me the wrong number. He was...puzzled. His only comment was “hmmmm... oh…really?”. I assured him that yes, indeed, really. He said he would transfer me to L&F. Which he did. No answer. We had another discussion as to why I thought that might be. I suggested that perhaps he could leave them a message with my phone number. Or he could let me call them directly and leave my name and number and a message.

Silly me – I’d forgotten about the secrecy involved with the direct number of L&F. And he didn’t think he’d be “allowed” to give them a message. His solution was to keep trying them, over and over again - with the occasional return to me stating that they were still mysteriously absent - until someone answered.

In time - a very long time or perhaps it just seemed that way - I got someone in the L&F department. Only to find that no, there was no lime green animal print wallet anywhere. I’m counting this as a cosmic test of my patience. A test to see just what it would take to make me cry in frustration. I must have passed the test because I didn't cry. I don't think whinging in a blog counts as losing my patience.

And you thought quitting smoking was bad.

2010-01-18T08:45:00.001-08:00

I have changed the way I eat. Not because it is the new year but because
a) the Wii has been repaired and returned and I am NOT going to exercise just so I can keep eating whatever I want. I'm going to exercise to get in shape. Also,
b) I am going to a wedding in the summer and my home town in the spring. I am NOT going to be looked at with pity at the latter and I WILL be able to dance as much as I want without collapsing. Not to mention I would like to wear something other than a caftan.

Anyway - I know from working overseas that it takes me about a week to adjust to a different diet. So for a week I've been mean and snarly and fairly tired. I just wanted to let you know that I have adjusted - plus or moin - to the new regime and you are safe to talk to me. Actually, you would have been safe whislt I was adjusting too, I was too tired to act out on the general crankiness.

That is the end of announcements, you may return to your regularly scheduled program.

And I don't drink, either.

2010-01-14T11:15:00.000-08:00

You know what doesnt' help in difficult situations? This. Not in any real way, that is. I tiny bit of emotional release but other than that people just look at you oddly and your friends start to worry.

What might be behind my desire to self-injure?

A car issue. I suppose you're wondering if I mean the bit about the lease ending and the bank not keeping in touch with me regarding the arrangments I'm trying to make. You'd be wrong. Not that that situation has improved. No indeedy it hasn't. It's just not the specific catalyst for the head banging.

Well then, you think to yourself (I'd say "selves" but really, do I have more than one reader?), it must have to do with the fender bender and the problems with the hitter waffling on paying. Nope, not that either. And whilst the waffling has ended, the car is still not repaired. No fault of Auto Extremem, they're still awesome. More of a timing thing.

So, a third thing, then? How can there be a third car issue. EASILY. As it happens I'm going to assume that there may be a fourth fifth or sixth thing. Prudent assumption, I'm thinking.

The problem is this: car is still a lease. For a few days. Also covered by extended warranty, for a little longer than that. I've been trying to get it in to be looked at because the engine light came on over the weekend. If there is going to be some hugely expensive repair needed I would like it to be paid for by someone else.

I called Monday morning and made an appointment for today. When I asked about a ride back I was told no problem, but there might be a wait if I came in first thing. I said I could drop it off at 10:15. "Great!" she says. "You'll be able to get a ride right back". Yeah. So in I go this morning.

Me: Hi, I'm Jane Doe, here to drop off my car.

Service Person: Oh - well - you were supposed to have dropped it off early and leave it all day with us. What would you like to do since you didn't do that?

Me: Actually, I talked to you (ALWAYS pay attention to the names of people who promise you things will be done) on Monday and made arrangements for 10:15. YOu told me that would be fine.

S.P. (looking at computer) So you did.

Me: My plan is the same - leave it here for the day, and get a ride back when you're done.

S.P. No problem. We'll call you when it's done. The scan to see what the problem is will be ----- dollars. We'll call you when we've diagnosed the problem, and you can decide if you want to go ahead.

Me: Cost? We had a fairly long conversation on Monday about the warranty on the car. There shouldn't be any charge.

S.P.: So we did. No charge then.

She gets keys, I leave. Not long after I get back to the office I get a call.

Me: Hello, blah blah blah.

S.P. This is the service department calling. We know what the problem is, would you like us to go ahead with that? The cost will be -----.

Me: Warranty. (I think that despite the terseness of the answer it was nevertheless nicer than the answer in my head).

S.P.: So it is. There is one thing we can do here that isn't covered, which might help. Or it might not. The problem is with something covered by your extended power train warranty. But we can't do that, so you'll have to get the car and take it to one of the blank dealers in town. When can you come and get it?

Me: Well...when can you come and get me? When I dropped it off you said someone could pick me up when you were done.

S.P.: So I did. The number is 555-0000. If you call him you can arrange a pick-up.

Me: Thank you. (Why thanks? Because that's how I was raised).

So - car not fixed. Not the bumper, not the engine. Appointment for engine? Not until next week. Appointment for bumper? Just waiting on a call. Appointment with bank guy? Soon. As in as soon as I calm down a bit.

If you're not thinking about banging your head on my behalf...well, why not?

Meditation. That's what I need before I call the bank. Five minutes meditation. Much better than head banging.

For you. A bit. But Mainly for Me.

2010-01-12T07:41:00.000-08:00

Read this.

And repeat # four to yourself four times a day.

Twas the night before Christmas

2010-01-11T07:13:00.001-08:00

It's hard to come up with the right words to properly convey Christmas eve. So I'm going to tell the story with fewer words. Here we go!

Went to work.

Came Home.
Baked.

Had one of these.

Got picked up.

Travelled.

Went to something like this. heading for this.

Ate some of this.

Headed out to something close to this.
Had a lot of this, and it was.

Went to another one of these.

When it was time to leave, these had broken out and needed this.

This is the type of emergency that everyone pitches in on. So I did. Wearing this, these and these. In this. Coat and mitts too, thanks heavens!

A Christmas eve to remember fondly. Forever.

Dude, Where's My Car?

2010-01-08T10:30:00.000-08:00

My poor M.I.A. car. Well, M.I.R. really. Missing in repair. Took it in Tuesday and thought I’d never get it back. I did, though, and I am totally gob-smacked at how awesome Auto Extreme is. They do things other than body work, and I would recommend them to one and all. They're on South Railway, Regina. Totally great guy owns it too. (oh relax, you guys, he isn’t single. Figures – I meet two guys over the hols: one married and one from out of town) I went from a really bad/dreadful/awful day/week to my usual bouncing optimistic in less than an hour. They

Oh, and I learned something that ya’ll should pay attention to: in this cold prairie weather you should use your parking brake either all the time or not at all. Always or never, ok? Unless you want to end up with your car in the shop. Has to do with condensation on the cable and the effect the expansion of freezing water has on cables. Maybe everyone else knew this, maybe they didn’t, but it’s a good thing to know. I’d lived here a year before anyone explained the need for a bloc heater. I just wondered what all the plugs were for. Anyway, back to the week of badness*.

First, so ma famille doesn’t panic, let’s list the good stuff:
No one I know is dying.
I'm not dying.
No one I know has recently died.
I still have my kids and they are as fantastic as ever.
I have my car back.
The Girl will (thanks yet again to the body shop) get signatures on her Rider Jersey, and pictures!
I have a house.
I am fed.
I have a wonderful family.
Co-worker bought (and brought) me a large peppermint hot chocolate, just to make my day better.

Things are well and no worries with my overdue aunt status. Soon, guys, soon!

Got the car back spic and span…and if you’ve seen my car (I have teens, and the elder uses the car from time to time) and know the weather that fact alone should make you gasp in shock. And maybe even a bit of awe. I’m seriously going to have to bake for them as a thank you.

Ok, the week:

No car from Tuesday afternoon until this morning.

Guy who hit car is waffling on paying for it.

The kitchen has two sinks. Only one can be used.

The fridge, fixed for an unknown length of time.

I have two bathrooms. Only one toilet worked…until this morning. Neither work now.

The gap at the bottom of the door is not the only problem. The handle is wrecked. Mainly this is a laziness problem. I've bought the replacement, I just need a warm-ish day and some spare time.

The Boy needs shots prior to travel. The “two business days” that the travel clinic promises to take before they call you back with an appointment is bleeding into three. No shots=no trip.

The car lease finishes on the 18th. I'm trying to make plans for that. The bank was supposed to get back to me yesterday. Nothing so far.

Until the above is done I can’t free any $ for toilet repair. I’m seriously hoping that the problem has magically been fixed in my absence.

Hair still not cut off, and as I was thinking about this past summer – which is when I decided that I’d cut it off it I hadn’t had a date by the end of the year – I realized that I didn’t just finish a year of dateless ness, I finished a decadeof dateless ness.

Baking going well except that…I’m now doing two wedding cakes this summer. I’m not really sure if this should go in the good things column or the bad things.

I am completely and absolutely ready to win a lottery. ‘Cept I should probably buy a ticket, yes?

*Should I ever decide to have a week of bad assness, I’ll let you know in advance so people like Mayb can join in.

Oh sleep it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole.

2010-01-06T12:04:00.000-08:00

I like my sleep. I really really like my sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I have a life, and I get that there are other fun things to do in bed (reading, writing, snacking, folding laundry) but sleep is a big deal. Clearly people know this about me as I can recall one Christmas where every single present was somehow related to sleeping.

Anyway,I don’t usually pay to much attention to things people tell me as I’m drifting off to sleep. My chances of remembering what was said – as opposed to just incorporating it into a dream – are pretty slim anyway, so what’s the point? I guess there would be a point if the house was on fire, but that hasn’t happened. Not so far.

On Monday night, I was just falling to sleep, rejoicing in the return of my babies to the family fold, reviewing the greatness of the just-seen Holmes movie when I heard a loud THUMP. At which point things went like this:

Me (quietly, in my head): Oh, good boy. He DID let the dogs out again before going to bed, just like I asked. Hope he remembers – now that the door has thumped shut – to put the cold air blocking towel back at the base of the door.

The Boy: ummm…mom? Are you awake ?
ME: Don’t forget the towel.
T.B.: Towel? Right. Well, the fridge door is gone.
ME: Where is the fridge door?
TB: Wha…? The door. The door to the fridge is off.
Me: Off what?
TB: The DOOR of the FRIDGE came OFF. It’s OFF right NOW.
Me: Oh. Coming.

Dazed mother lurches into kitchen. “HEY! The DOOR is off the FRIDGE”.
TB: I KNOW. I was getting something to eat and it opened and then it just wasn’t on anymore.
ME: So. (this may have been followed by some confused blinking on my part).

TB: So….let’s fix it. Ok?

Me: Yeah…fixing….ok.

This was followed by some not very intelligent fixing, fixing which nevertheless sufficed for the time. The fridge was at least closed by the end of it all. The actual fixing came the next day. When I was awake, and able to think about how to repair the stupid thing. If only I’d been awake enough the night before to wash grease off my fingers prior to returning to bed. Can’t have everything, though, and at the very least the door was closed and the towel was in place at the back door. A moderately successful evening.

I don't know. What do you think it looks like?

2010-01-06T11:40:00.000-08:00

I occastionally have too literal a mind. This morning, for instance.

The gaming console I bought last year is in Toronto, getting fixed. With the wonder of modern techonolgy I was able to track its journey from here to there, with the added bonus of being able to track its repair status once it arrived.

Watching it travel was mildly entertaining. The first entry was a note that I had given the parcel to the courier. What wasn’t mentioned was that it was the wrong one. Right company, wrong guy. The guy I gave it to happily took it, and I signed in the space that I was asked to, but then later in the day I had a very grumpy courier complain that my parcel was HIS pick-up, and that no one tells him ANYTHING, and what is THE POINT to it all? I tried to cheer him up but still spent a bit of the afternoon worrying about the possibility that he’d throw himself off a bridge before the day was over. ‘Course, given where we are, that wouldn't be so much fatal as entertaining, would it?

The next entry was that it had arrived at the local depot. Then there was the slightly mysterious entry “Stop-off at Winnepeg, MB”. No explanation given. Did the parcel want to visit someone? Was it traveling to Ontario in someone’s car? Some employee who was going that way anyway and said that take a parcel along?

The stop over turned into a couple of days, because there were no entries until today, and today is when it all happened. Arrival in Toronto. Dispatch to dispatch (I think some bored clerk was making things up. Can something really be dispatched to dispatch?), then to the actual address where it was “Received by Rob”. Very homey that. Not signed for by Shipping and Receiving, not logged as being left in reception. Maybe Rob was out for a smoke and said that yeah, he’d take it in. When he was done, of course. Never mind, the point is it had arrived!

I found the repair bill number and decided to go to the site to see how things were going. And here was the status: “Console has arrived and we’re looking at it”. That was the message, in its entirety. And now all I can picture in my head is my console sitting on a bench….surrounded by a handful of employees with serious contemplative looks on their faces. Which may explain why I was told that most repairs take two weeks.

They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end.

2009-12-31T08:28:00.000-08:00

Nothing like the bible for nailing drunkeness on the head! No, not me. I did not get drunk, cause...well, why start now?

Anyway - a few months ago I made some home made liqueurs. Creme de Menthe and Vanilla Cordial. So last night I decided to make a grasshopper (I had a bottle of Cacao from Christmas baking) using the Magic Bullet*.

I made it, and took it into the living room to watch some TV show. And then the phone rang. Leaping to my feet (which is not my normal reaction, but it MIGHT have been the "you're an aunt" call). I bolted into the kitchen to get it before I missed it. I didn't miss it, and I'm not an aunt yet.
After that I decided to do the dishes before returning to the relaxing portion of the evening. I know myself too well: once out of the kitchen I might not have returned to the dishes at all. Dishes in the dishwasher, china washed and in a rack counters cleaned I was ready to go back to the aforementioned green goodness. And it was gone.

I now know what happens if Big Puppy has too much to drink. She gets sleepy, walks into things and then looks around with great confusion and shakes her head. Repeat as required. Hmmm. I think I know some people that do that.

Christmas was great, by-the-by, and I'll blog about the cow herding in filmy trousers on Christmas eve event later.

*I have a lot of strange and interesting kitchen gadgets. Some useful, some not so much. I'm going to review them all in the new year, so y'all can decide what your next kitchen gadget purchase should be.

The lining of the cloud

2009-12-21T09:03:00.000-08:00

Silver...no, gold...lining to the cloud of having someone run into the back of my car:
through a tale too long to relate, an in with the Rough Riders that will make it simple for Alec to get Maddy's Christmas present signed by many many of the players. Yeah!

Good times, good times.

2009-12-20T14:44:00.000-08:00

I love Christmas, yes? What I don't especially love is:
Burning a tray of tarts
Being crashed into by a sled, and slammed into my own car.
Being rear-ended, when I've no time to go get an estimate
Having my skirt fall off...not down, OFF...in Walmart

On the up side:
I had spare tarts
They were very very sorry, and although I have a bump I didn't actually bleed
Accident minor, and not my fault
No one...ok, no one I knew, there were actually LOTS of someones...seeing me in undies* in the kids section of the store. And I high tailed it out of there before security came to arrest the undressed perv.

*I don't know if it is a good thing or a bad thing that the undies in question were Mrs. Claus undies; red satin shorts with white fluffy trim. At least the were shorts, and not oh, a thong or something. Thank heavens for small mercies.

How many people does it take?

2009-12-17T07:57:00.000-08:00

So we're finally getting a sink in the break room. For the past three months we've had to do our dishes in the bathroom. Very awkward under any circumstance but made worse by the placement of the paper towel machine.

How can that be a problem, you ask? Well...it's like this: we used to have a regular grab-the-towel type machine. It was replaced with a hands free dispenser. One of the anti-swine flu measures the building managers installed. The problem is that they put it so close to the sink that when you're washing dishes, or hands or whatever else you care to wash the thing keeps dispensing towels. So by the time you're done there is a pile of p.t. on the floor. You can make it run a bit less if you perch partly on the counter and lean at an uncomfortable angle. Which, I can say from experience, makes people new to the building look at you strangely when the walk in. Or, as happened to me, it will make them walk in, look at you askance and then back away slowly out the door. I'm not sure why with such a look of alarm, and slowly- I was not doing anything that looked dangerous. It just looked at little....odd.

Anyway, back to the story:
They booked six guys and three days to put a sink in. They're putting it in on the same wall that backs onto the bathroom sink to make the plumbing part easier. I did wonder why it would take so many people, and so much time. Here is what has happened to date:

9:00 am Wednesday. Six guys come in and partially cut a hole in the plaster. Then they all stand and stare at it. After some serious staring they come to my office (I'm the only one on this side of the building) and say they'll be back.

11:00. They return. And finish cutting the whole. Then they go into the back of the building. Turns out the pipes are there. They stay in the back for half and hour and then come and say they're leaving for lunch.

2:00 They stop by to say there is a problem with the water supply. Then they leave again, and don't return the rest of the day.

9:00 am Thursday One guy, not one of the original six, comes to the door to be let in. I let him in and he says "I'm here to hammer something. I won't be long". True to his word his is not long. Loud, grant you, but not long. This is where things still stand. A big hole in the wall and plaster dust on the floor. And a general perfume of glue. Smells like super glue, actually. I really really hope it isn't super glue.

I'm beginning to think that three days wasn't long enough.

Omnes paucis annis prosedae erunt

2009-12-10T11:55:00.000-08:00

The above title is for Dr. F. For the rest of you....nothing. I have nothing as accurate as that. So, on to the blog:

Yes, young one winter is upon us
The cold that chills the spine
Is here and all hurry to warmth and comfort
Run, run if you are able at all
To do more than balance on those spikes
But wait! As you come within my compass
Where I patiently wait for my own girl
I see your long uncovered legs
Blue against the snow,
Bare midriff white as wax
And I think mayhap I have it wrong.
Is this not, then, a school?
Is it perhaps a place for high flyers
And you a barque of frailty?

Oh Frabjous Joy!

2009-12-10T11:20:00.000-08:00

You missed the happy dance that I just did, so you'll have to do a little one (even if only in your head, I don't want anyone to get into trouble at work) on my behalf instead.

Why all the merriment? Did I win the lottery? No, but then if I did I'd tell y'all in person, money in hand, if that happened. So not that and not a home makeover win either. But this is just as good. Better, even. The Boy is not going to be going to university in Alberta. For almost certain. He's going to try for the same program in the local U. Which is mere minutes from home which is awesome! I had him stay with his dad whilst The Girl had swiney sickness. What an eyeopener, I really missed him and that was just over a week. I ended up going over to drop stuff off as an excuse to see him and get a hug.

Yeah, I know - they have to leave the nest at some point blah blah blah. I'll deal with it when it happens. I'm just happy that it doesn't appear to be on the agenda for next September.

The Girl is in driver training, The Boy is in his last year of high school, so I know time has passed but where did it go? I feel exactly the same as I did when they were four and six. Now if I could work out how to look the same as I did years ago then...well, I wouldn't need a lottery because it would mean that I had access to the (or a?) fountain of youth.

Smoke and Fire

2009-12-07T11:22:00.000-08:00

This one is for you, Lindsay. The only thing that the rest of you need to know is that I've had a bit of bad luck vacuum cleaner-wise. Three of the vacuums I've owned have caught on fire mid-use. The Girl says four, but the last one was all smoke and no fire so I don't think that counts.

I used to think that it was all a strange coincidence. I mean I didn't do anything odd with the vacuums, unless not using it often enough is considered odd. And I suspect that people who own them and don't use them as often as they should are so common that there is no oddness in it at all.

I'm beginning to suscribe to the theory (held by the kids and maybe Lindsay) that perhaps it is me. Because I had another appliance fire issue. Not the vacuum this time. Something else. Something that had a fire (flames and all) whilst in use. And that something is so odd, so bizarre and yet so easily explained that I guess maybe I do have a problem with all things electric.

Oh, sorry, did you want to know what appliance? Ok, then: the dishwasher. Yup, and it was on. Water swishing and all. Which I would have thought would be the best place for a fire to be - I mean instant out, yes? No, as it happens. I had to turn the dishwasher off and dump a big bowl of water on it. All is well in the end but IS this the end? I mean...if I can have a fire in the one thing a fire shouldn't be able to thrive what hope is there for me? And if something is going to burn, why can't it just be the house itself? When we're all out and well alibied, of course.

is or is not that into you

2009-11-26T14:06:00.000-08:00

So I was reading an article about the supposedly difficult task of knowing whether or not a guy is into you.

I didn't finish the article, and I would not recommend any one else reading it. Why? Because one of the signs is "what you see in his eyes when he first looks at you". That means you have to be looking at him when he first looks at you. Because the first thing he thinks may be apparent in the first second, but after that it is likely hidden.

Nevertheless, that isn't what made me stop reading the article. The author ( a woman, which should have tipped me off in the first place) insists that you don't wear ANY rings. Any at all. Because men "can't tell which hand a wedding ring belongs on, let alone which finger".

This article should have been titled "how to know if an idiot is interested in you", and it would be something you would read to save yourself from idiots.

I took a speed reading course and read 'War and Peace' in twenty minutes. It involves Russia. (Woody Allen)

2009-11-23T12:39:00.000-08:00

Here’s the thing: I am a reader. No really, seriously, a reader. Not quite a book a day. During vacation it sometimes works out to a little more than a book a day and during the busy baking times – like Christmas – it works out to much less than a book a day.

I don’t only read books, mind you. Not a lot of magazines mainly British Columbia Magazine and the occasional Harrowsmith Country Life. I also read various blogs and online columns. Some of the blogs belong to friends and such, some to strangers that write in a way that interests me.

One of the odd things about being a compulsive reader (I’m not sure if that is an actual condition, but if it is it certainly applies to me) is that sometimes you read something in a way it wasn’t intended to be read. Say what?

Ok, here’s an example: I read a weekly sex advice column (yeah, I get the irony. Shut up). When I first found the column I went through the archives and read every single column in it. Two years worth of letters. And I did it all over the course of one weekend.

Not surprisingly, I don’t remember many specific questions but I certainly remember the overall impression: we (and I mean ALL of us) are obsessed with “normal”, which is kinda sad given that normal is not a constant, nor is it something that any two people can agree on a definition of. T

he vast majority – and possibly all – of the letters could be boiled down to our fear of not beeing seen as normal. I like this Is that weird? I don’t like that Am I normal? I don’t look like this Is that ok? I do look that. Is that odd? It was quite the eye-opener. I knew, in general, that society likes to conform. Even those who think they are not conforming are nevertheless conforming. The teens that I know that are the most proud of NOT fitting in are almost exact copies of everyone else in the group they have chosen to identify with. I just didn’t know to what extent acceptance – particularly in such a sensitive area as sexuality – mattered. Really mattered. I learned a whole lot of other stuff too but the big lesson was to question myself when I worried about what was normal.

Recently I read many years worth of archived blog entries written by someone I don’t even know. It was interesting in a sad sort of way to watch the marriage of the writer slowly fall apart. I’m assuming the blogger didn’t include every detail but such a life-change couldn’t help but be hinted at over the course of years. Despite the occasional hints, I finished the whole thing wondering how and why it all happened. Early entries spoke of such love and compatability and then there were suddenly hints of anger and resentment. I thought that perhaps as a non-player I’d be able to see some sort of ultimate truth about the whole situation. Turns out that there is no ultimate truth, at least not in a story half-told. Perhaps if the other half blogged the reason behind the sea change would become clear. And perhaps not. Maybe this all comes back to me and my own marriage break down. However many years later it is, I still find myself looking for the “why” of it all. And the truth - ultimate or not - is that I don't really need to know why.

Dear Lyn

2009-11-18T07:31:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I could just email her but I've been sadly remiss on the blogfront, so I'm blogging it:

Dear Lyn;
We need, you and I (and possibly The Girl) to go to my little hometown in Quebec. Why? Do they have a Christmas celebration there that we'd enjoy? As a matter of fact they have....twelve.

Yes, you read that right my fellow Christmasaholic, twelve. They do something called the Twelve Days of Christmas. Twelve days of different things, different interesting Christmassy things. And not all in a row, spread out a bit so some of them are in NOVEMBER. I think this could be worth running away from home/university for oui?

Hair today

2009-11-13T07:38:00.000-08:00

Hair tomorrow. In the end the cut didn't happen. The salon had the wrong date so they had no time for me when I showed up. And by the time my post-poned date came up, I had to choose between a retreat for The Girl and a hair cut for me. Chose The Girl. So I'll either have to wait, or just shave my head myself. Depends on how the weekend goes, I guess.

Parental Blindness?

2009-11-09T06:53:00.000-08:00

I have nothing against Halloween. And I have nothing - or nothing specific, at any rate - against girls in their mid-teens. Yes, the giggling/texting/talking/eye rolling can make my crazy but still, they're just kids. I also have nothing against dressing up as a naughty nurse. I haven't - yet! - but I have no strong feelings against it. What happens in Vegas....you know the drill.

You know what I do object to? All three of those things in one place. As happened on Halloween this year. A 14/15 year old friend of The Girl went trick or treating as a naughty nurse. Her words, not mine or The Girl. And it wasn't some innocent "I'm a nurse" costume that turned out a little too risque. Because on the ride to the farm (I was taking her and The Girl out to visit some horses) she was quite vocal about how much her friend's fathers liked the outfit. Me, I was just creeped out.

Adieu Rapunzel

2009-11-04T08:13:00.000-08:00

The time has come. The monkey on my back has got to go. In more straightforward terms, the cost (in detangler and frustration) of hair long enough to TUCK INTO MY JEANS is now equal to the cost of maintaining a short haircut. So on Friday....snip. The length will go to Wigs for Kids and then hopefully I'll emerge as close to a butterfly as this particular caterpillar can hope to be.

My kids have got my number

2009-11-02T07:08:00.000-08:00

I had, for a brief bit this weekend, (Saturday night until late Sunday) three dogs instead of two. Why? Because my kids have me worked out.

They know that I'll hug if asked, always, and quite often when not asked. They know that if they ask me to make a favourite meal/salad/cookie/dessert for them I will. They know that if they have a friend that needs cheering up and they want to take them cookies that I'll bake some. They know that if someone/something needs rescuing, I'll ride in on a white horse. Or something like that.

Which would explain the extra dog. The Boy went to a party on halloween, way out in the east end. I drove him there (of course I did - let him go to a party where I haven't met the parents? Without making sure that the parents really are home? Not going to happen) and then went home to hand out candy.

The kids at the party - 17 & 18 year olds - went out to some of the neighbours, after all the little kids had been around. They were joined by a small puking lost dog. The dog went with them from house to house. No one at any of the houses they went to had seen the dog before. They took it back to the party house, where it continued to puke. And there was a cat in the house and the mom didn't know what to do with a dog. So...The Boy called me. Which is how we had - temporarily - a brindle pug. Sweet little thing he was, too. Once he stopped being sick that is.

No collar, but he had a tattoo. We signed up on the lost/found site that is a link from the Regina Humane society. No listing of it up, but there were several "ran out the door on halloween" notices up, even that early. The voice mail on the RHS phone says their hours are nine to five on Sunday but in the end they weren't open until noon. We finally got the name and number of the dog owner, but no one was in when we called. Out looking for the dog, maybe? Anyway - he was returned to his rightful owner, evenetually. And both the kids and the dogs we have were sad to see him go. I myself thought about trading him for the two we own but that would involve heart-breaking ande dog stealing so in the end I'm back where I started: two dogs, two kids, lots of love.

Maybe I'm skinny, mean and non-cuddly.

2009-10-27T09:49:00.000-07:00

I read someone's mini-autobiography recently. Someone I knew personally that is, not some writer or politician or famous person I've never met. Someone who's life I knew. Or at least that's what I thought.

Because when I finished reading I realized....this thing sounds like a completely different person. Which made me start thinking - if everyone we knew wrote a biography leaving out family names and such, how many could we put names to? How many of them would we read and think "I haven't a clue who this person is. Not anyone I know, that's for sure".

That in turn made me wonder if I am actually a completely different person than I think I am. Maybe the way I see myself is totally non-recognizable to everyone else. Scary.

So if I ever write a mini-biography I'm putting in the multiple vacuum fire incidents. Just so people know for sure that it's about me.

Yes, even I

2009-10-26T13:13:00.001-07:00

Yes, there are time when even I am speechless. I don't mean those times (those many many sad times) when I'm reduced to incoherent speach, I mean when there is a long silence in the conversation because I am just too gobsmacked to speak. Moments like the one I just had on the phone.

The conversation is about something I'm catering. They want a variety of breakfasty things. I'm ok with that, I know what they mean by breakfasty. They would like them to be related to a specific theme they have going. That too is fine - expecially as the theme is something I have a lot of access to, recipe-wise. I even found one recipe with a title that is almost identical to the title of the theme. I collected a number of recipes/ideas, things that fit the theme and also things that didn't require spoons or forks or plates. Also didn't include anything really messy or crumbly. Once I had several different things to choose from, I started making the ones that I'd never made before. Just to make sure they were worth serving.

Anyway, I tell the woman who is placing the order that one cake in particular is going to be particularly perfect for the theme. To which she says "yeah, ok...but will it taste good at all?"

Silence. For a good twenty seconds. Count that out, it's actually a long time. And in all that time all I could think of to say was "well, yes". I'm worried that the "duh" that I was keeping quietly in my head was audible in the tone of my voice.

Life is...well, it's a see-saw

2009-10-22T14:40:00.000-07:00

So here's how things have shaken lately:

Last Thursday: Grocery Budget Tanked

Saturday: Friendly Angels emptied a freezer in my direction.

October 19th: I have to move to the down town office. No wait, I can stay where I am. No, not any longer, I am moving, in November, nope, make that Monday the 26th of October.

This Morning: Ok, we dont' know what to do with you. So we're going to wait for your supervisor to come back so you can stay where you are. For now.

Today, noon School call. "There's been a bit of an accident"

Today, two PM No stitches, lots of antibiotics and the souvenir of a large shard of wood, botttom 2 1/2 to 3 inches bloodied. Great story to tell friends, viewing of said souvenir included at no extra charge.

Today, 3:30 Message to call Saskenergy. No problem, equalized payments. Thank heaven they're not calling to collect on an unpaid bill.

Today, 3:40 Saskenergy says it's time to balance out what I paid for with what was actually used. So I owe a schwack of cash.

Today, right now: I'm going out for supper. Sans enfants. And I don't even have to drive.

Yes, the ride will go down again. But I'll worry about whatever it is when it happens, and not a minute sooner.

Don't like Cabbage soup, can't do Atkins Bacon happy.

2009-10-16T10:23:00.000-07:00

So - if I channel hurt and anger and unassuaged libido into exercise, I figure I can lose fifty pounds before Christmas. I may still have moments of unhappiness, but they'd be moments of skinny unhappiness. Actually, if I lost fifty pounds they'd be moments of skeletal unhappiness. I still think it bears looking into, though.

This would be a good time to find something that works - I've had so many orders for fudge that nearly every night the whole house smells of chocolate. Makes resisting treats well nigh impossible.

I had a flash of inspiration on the fudge front this week. The Butter Pecan is now brilliant, instead of just wonderful. I think this may be the earliest I've ever had Christmas baking orders. Why one customer wants 10 pounds of chocolate fudge is somewhat mystifying, but orders is orders, and the more I have the more $ for Christmas. Hooray for the start of what a co-worker refers to as the eating season. Spring, summer, autumn and eating. Works for me!

The discovery of a new dish does more for human happiness than the discovery of a new star.
(Brillat-Savarin)

Not a real food

2009-10-14T08:07:00.000-07:00

We're having a pot luck at work today. I made puff pastry last night (I needed some quiet contemplation time) and baked it up this morning. Normally I enjoy pot lucks. Who knows what people will bring to share?

Well, I know what one woman brought because she was putting it all together when I was upstairs making tea. She'd made meatballs the night before, which makes sense. Do what you can the day before. But when she was making the sauce, all I saw (before I blanked out in shock) was her putting hot water into a mainly empty cheese whiz jar, shaking it around and pouring it over the meatballs. Now perhaps, if I'd burned out tastebuds with a hot curry, this could be ok. It might even be ok if a) there were lots of other ingredients, which there may be or b) I didn't see the whole water+ whiz bit. But I saw what I saw. And there is no going back.

Yes, that's right, you are an idiot

2009-10-13T15:36:00.000-07:00

I was in an elevator at a different office last week. The ususal elevator small talk being inevitable I decided to do my best to just a successfull small talker. Normally I either a) say something that makes no sense at all or b) say nothing, and just look akward and uncomfortable. So I did my best. Too bad I can't say the same for the other person:

OP: Pretty cold this morning. And snow - can't believe there's snow!
Me: I knew it was coming but now that it's here I don't know what to do about raking the leaves.
OP: Well, you should have raked earlier. Procrastion can catch up to you!
Me: The problem is that the leaves haven't fallen. Most of them are still green. So if it keeps snowing, we'll have leaves on a deep layer of snow.
OP: You still should have done them. Don't put off to tomorrow what you can do today.
Me: Silent. But giving my best raised-eyebrow look of incredulity.
OP: Gears running in his head. "Oh. Yeah".

But I Prefer the Whole Story

2009-10-08T12:15:00.000-07:00

There is, or used to be, a website along the lines of "overheard in the office" or "overheard in the street". Because the truth is, hearing one bit of a conversation is occasionally sureal. Sufficiently sureal that sometimes it is hard to figure out what the conversation could possibly be about that would make sense of the one bit you overheard.

I used to read it, but I found that it wasn't fun when I didn't get to find out what on earth prompted someone to say that.

The worst scenario as far as I'm concerned, is when I overhear something and know that however curious I may be, it really isn't the done thing to intrude on the conversation. Which sucks, because I hate not knowing.

What promted this little post? Out for lunch with office people, at a buffet. Walking back to the table, I heard this line: "...been living in a facticious apartment". Now...giving a factitious address, ok, that makes sense. But how can you live in a facticious apartment, given that the word is defined as
1.
created, taken, or assumed for the sake of concealment; not genuine; false: fictitious names.
2.
of, pertaining to, or consisting of fiction; imaginatively produced or set forth; created by the imagination: a fictitious hero.

I suppose that if someone took an apartment in order to conceal something then the first definition works. Sort of. Still seems like an odd thing to say though.

Does this apartment not exist in the real world? Does this person have an invisible apartment as opposed to an invisible friend? I don't know. And I never will, because I didn't go and ask them. Because if I did, then they would be back at their office, talking or blogging about the crazy women at the restaurant. So I left them alone and ate my non-fictitious plate of food.

But she's an honest saborteur

2009-10-01T09:51:00.000-07:00

There is a borrowed book on my coffee table: Why Mr. Right can't find you. Or something to that effect. There are also three cookbooks, two fantasy novels, three mysteries and a sci-fi anthology. So you can see where my priorties are - baking and reading.

Mr. Right? Eh, maybe. Depends on when you ask me. If I've been out as the third wheel for the fifth time in a row then yes, I'd be wondering where he was. If I've been busy with two kids, two dogs, two jobs, a crumbling house, mountains of laundry and no dryer and trying to find a minute or two to work on writing, well, not so much.

Anyway, The Girl saw the book. And wanted to know if I was dating someone. Because if I started dating someone, she'd sabotage it. I was a bit surprised (because she is old enough to have her own life) and asked her why. Why wouldn't she want me to be seeing someone?

"Because I like things how they are. I like it that you do everything. If you were dating it wouldn't be all about me".

For the record, I do not do everything. I don't even do a lot of things. And I do go out and do things on my own, so my life is NOT all about my children. I'm putting that in so that I don't get any lectures about getting a life of my own. However, I suppose that I am more around than a parent who dates. That's a guess, though. Haven't dated for ages.

To be fair to The Girl, if it came down to it she wouldn't really sabotage anything. And to be even more fair - I think most people would like it if things were all about them.

Classism, 1940's Style

2009-09-29T14:06:00.000-07:00

Here I am reading insanity files, and this is the line I come across:
"They belong to that class of people who make themselves a nuisance everywhere".

The interesting thing (after you get over the dismay of someone writing that about actual people) is that it is totally unclear what he means. Is it that they're poor? Or that they're foreign? Is this anti-catholic sentiment, of which I've found plenty? Perhaps they were just not sufficiently obsequious to suit him. From the tone of the rest of the report, I'm opting for the last as being the most likely.

What weddings can teach us

2009-09-22T12:37:00.000-07:00

A friend got married this last weekend. And I learned a number of things from the wedding:

Making a tiered wedding cake could kill you. But it isn't a certainty. Because I survived and overall it went well. The Girl has pictures, I'll get something posted when she is over today's orthodontist visit.

Short grandparents don't necessarily make for short grandchildren

Fondant should not be eaten. SERIOUSLY. Ick. But it sure looks purty.

Les filles Hingston are as pretty as I've been telling you all this time.

Even the warm-huggy ambience of a wedding doesn't mean you won't want to smack someone for being irritating.

A small church basement filled with people - and no A/C - when the outside temp. is + 30 is no place to spend a great amount of time.

Everyone but me can keep their head down and their eyes closed when weird stuff happens. I know this because I looked around in shock/confusion at one point and everyone else was bowed and closed, praying. Bad me.

Family is as important as I have always believed it to be. It's just nice to see it confirmed in other people's familes. And even better? Being included as a part of someone else's large family. I even got to sit in the family pew! May not sound like much to you, but it meant a great deal to me.

It is possible for a middle of the road chubby middle aged white woman (moi) to look nice, given the right dress choice. And I had three on loan to choose from, all of which were very swish! I've decided to never go dress shopping without Mayb. Because the dresses were all hers. Clearly she has some serious shopping skills.

You can't learn to walk about in really high heels without some practice. Especially after a summer of mainly barefeet and flat sandals.

Romance isn't dead.

It isn't always the bride that makes people cry. I had it all together until the groom made the sweetest kindest gesture. And then the tears came. Drat.

I need someone else to get engaged, so I can get caught up in someone else's love life.

I need some romance in my own life.

Winning the lottery isn't likely to be the solution to the current life crisis.

Ok, so I didn't learn those last three at the wedding. But they're important, so I tossed them in.

How to make sure you stay home all the time.

2009-09-15T10:54:00.000-07:00

There is a way to make sure you never go anywhere special. Buy something -say an outfit, a dress matching undies or what-have-you - and then NEVER WEAR it/them, becuase in your head you're thinking "no, I won't wear that, I'll save it for something special".

If you do that, as sure as the sun will melt your wax wings if you fly too close, you'll end up never wearing said garments. I should know, as I have many things I haven't work yet, all waiting for that special person/event/tabloid scandal. Perhaps next year I'll work on wearing everything I have at least once. Maybe. But not until next year, because 2009 still has 3.5 months left for something really really wonderful to happen that would require a special outfit.

Even Worse than Cart and Horse

2009-09-14T14:12:00.000-07:00

I can't say that I'm surprised, but it is still bizarre enough to blog:

We have a huge project going on at the moment. And this morning, in what was referred to as "a bit of a problem" something came up that is actually akin to mailing away all your winter coats BEFORE the new ones have arrived, and the date is December 1st.

Right events, wrong order. Stupid News.

2009-09-10T12:55:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure....just using basic logic...that when there are two people, both dead, one by suicide and one by murder that it should always be "murder-suicide". Because...if you killed yourself first, well, murder would be kinda hard, don't you think?

Well, a lot of stuff

2009-09-10T11:05:00.000-07:00

What else can one say when asked what one listens to musically? I mean, I just finished listening to music from Bleach and now I'm listening to K-K-K- Katy (which ,yes, in my head sounds like my name), and next is Old Piano Roll Blues and then D'yer Maker. So...a lot of stuff. A lot different stuff.

Hooray for Christmas!

2009-09-09T08:21:00.000-07:00

Put Christmas music on my ipod. Ok, there is at least one song that is there year round but now most of my Christmas music is there. I know only LMH will understand that, but I'm ok with that. I figure if at least one person gets it, I'm happy.

Baking. Seriously baking

2009-09-08T11:06:00.000-07:00

The grandparents are in town, so the kids are with their dad. Which means, of course, that I had a long weekend to myself. Guess what I did?

If you guessed headache, you're partly right. If you guessed went out and had fun you'd be totally wrong. If you guessed housework, studying and baking you'd be right on the money.

The current baking issue is a) studying the math and chemistry of baking, not just recipes. Also working on technique and b) making a totally mind blowing best-in-the-province deli rye bread. Which is going to happen, but having started the process on Saturday, it will be next week before rye loaf mark I is ready to try. At which point I'll be testing, and probably looking for testers.

I did get the most a crust on a banneton raised country loaf, though. Too bad I was impatient and didn't let it rise long enough. I started a new batch which I should be able to work on tonight. If it works, I'll ask The Girl to take a picture to show you. The loaves from last night were beautiful. And I could have eaten just the crust for supper and been happy.

Naturally, I did all of this baking of bread when what I should have been working out proportions for the wedding cake. But if MayB can procrastinate, so can I.

Brains make for Beauty

2009-09-08T10:50:00.001-07:00

I used to wonder at the fact that my crushes (on the famous, that is) don't seem to have any physical characteristics in common. And then a friend said that they have brains in common, and I realized she was right. Stupid and pretty doesn't work for me*. Smart, witty, articulate, well read - all these things count. Beyond that either there is chemistry or their isn't.

My latest crush? Well, I accidentally watched the first episode of the new season of Top Chef. And a few minutes in I had my fave all picked out. And yeah, I have a crush. Why not? He can cook and I'm assuming he is smart. Not guessing, assuming.

Guessing would be thinking "hmmm. He says 'you' not 'youse'. And he enunciates. Maybe he's smart"

Assuming is....well, he gave up a full scholarship to MIT to cook. So yeah, I'm crushed.

Oh, the contestant? Here.

*Except once. Getting over it guy was lovely. But dumb as a bag of hammers. Nevertheless, that's what I needed at the time.

The Giant Green Post

2009-09-04T10:19:00.001-07:00

The post is giant (not that I'm saying size matters, this is more of a warning) and it's about the garden. I had meant to post bit by bit but in the crazy business of life that just didn't happen. So here you go, the summer of the garden:

When I am playing a new board game, particularly if the game is German and complicated and whoever is teaching it to everyone (naming no one here!) needs 45 minutes to get us all through the rule book, I don’t play to win. I don’t even plan to do well, although I don’t complain if I do. What I do do, so to speak, is play to learn. I figure I can wade through one game, and then when it hits the table the next time around I’ll know the game. And then I’ll play it with the hopes of doing well. Or at the least well-ish!

I decided – yesterday – that I’m going to have to think of the garden plot that way. Not that I haven’t been successful, it’s just that there are a lot of things I intend to do differently next year. Stuff that I didn’t think about until the garden was well underway. So, in chronological order here is what’s been going on:

March, 2008 I contacted the Community Garden people about getting a plot. They were polite – inasmuch as they saved their huge guffaws until I’d hung up – and let me know that I was MONTHS too late for the 2008 gardening season. Did I want to be put on a waiting list for 2009? Yes, yes I did. See? I can plan ahead!

Early January, 2009 I get an email…they have an available plot for me! Every year there are some people who don’t return, and I guess there would be those that move or die or what have you. Some people have had their plots forever, it seems. I know two couples, both of whom at the more-than-twenty-years point. The only changes one couple has done is to divide their large part in half, once the kids had moved out. There is only so much produce one couple can eat! The email wanted to know if I wanted a full plot (20’x50’) or a half (20’x25’). I opted for the latter.

February Awesome brother-in-law flies me out to BC. I find it much easier to think about gardening, as they have FLOWERS. That are BLOOMING. In FEBRUARY. Lucky buggers. Decide not to bring plants back with me. I’ve done than before, one time taking a whole flat of herbs as a carry-on. I figured that they’d die before I got them home and if by some chance that didn’t happen, I’d have to keep seedlings living for MONTHS before I could plant them in the garden. Good call, as we had to walk outside from the plane to the airport in screaming wind, with a temp at minus thirty something.

April Having decided what to plant – potatoes, carrots, peas, strawberries, tomatoes, corn and peppers – I get an email reminding people that there are no perennials allowed in the garden plots. So, out go the strawberry plans.

Late April The gardens are roto-tilled every fall. If you want it done in the spring as well, you have to hire someone to do it or do it yourself. I decide to pass on the tilling. Bad call, or at least not a great call. The soil where we ended up planting carrots was really dense, heavy with lots of clay. I should have gone the extra step. Lesson learned for next year!

May Cold. And snowy. I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll be able to use the traditional date of the May long weekend for planting. As it turns out no…it was much to cold. I did buy seed potatoes, though. And learned another lesson. Don’t worry about what the bin says, read the label. The store I went to had an enormous bin of Yukon Gold seed potatoes. So I grabbed one, and added it to the card of seeds. When we got home I put them all out on newspaper to sprout, just like the instructions said. After we’d done all of that the girl said “you do know that these aren’t Yukon Gold, right?” No, I didn’t know. Turns out that the bag I’d grabbed from the Yukon bin was a bag of Red Pontiacs. Ah well, I’ll be more careful next time.

Mid-May Time to plant. To start with we had:
Seed Potatoes, sort of sprouted
Seeds for: carrots, peas (the mange-tout kind) cucumber, pumpkins (two types, regular and a heritage orange and black)and corn.

Plants: tomatoes, red yellow and green peppers (here’s a question: I thought red and yellow sweet peppers were just green peppers, ripened. Is that not the case?), hot banana peppers and four different types of melon: Mini Sweet Watermelon, Cantaloupe, Early dew and Lambkin. I have no idea what the last one is, but it look healthy, so we bought it.

When we had everything planted it became apparent that I didn’t really understand how big 25’x20’ really is. We had a rectangle of space with nothing planted. So The Girl and I went out and bought a set of six Spanish onions, went back and planted them and considered the whole thing a job well done.

June Still cold. And when the temp. went down to +3 a few nights in a row we went to see what damage the garden had sustained. All of the peppers were sad and dead looking, and more than half of the tomatoes had definitely given up the ghost. Happily for us, a good and kind friend (yeah Allison!) had extra tomato plants, so we replanted. And got a few new peppers as well. The rest we just left, lesson learned.

Mid June Where is everything? The peas and corn have sprouted, but no potatoes, no carrots, no pumpkins no cucumbers. I thought for sure the potatoes would be up, but no.

End of June The girl is leaving for a month in BC (oooh, envy) and at least the cucumbers and about half of the potatoes are poking about the ground. The peas, too, are up. And considering that we just planted them willy-nilly in the ground and then shoved tomato cages over them they’re looking ok. Not more than four inches tall, but they’re there!

Early July Well, once those potatoes started coming up, they almost all came up with great enthusiasm. 39 for 40 potato hills have lovely green plants thriving on them. The corn looks excellent, the peas are thriving and the pumpkins are up. And in the wrong spot! Turns out that believing that I’d remember where the blank rectangle was about as stupid as it sounds. What was I thinking? So the pumpkin vines started growing in and amongst the onions. Right beside the empty space. It kills me everytime I see them.

Third Week of July I get a cold and miss a whole week of gardening. The weeds are crazy and everything that we planted is doing well. Even the almost-dead peppers have come back to life, somewhat. I take a coffee break to race over in the morning and water…the days are hot, and we haven’t had rain. In the few minutes I’m there, The Girl (who returned from BC at twelve am and went to Kenosee at nine am the same time) appears. Giant hugs and excitement all round. Turns out that the family that she went to a cottage with were driving her home and wanted to see the garden, since it was on the way. She realized someone was in the garden, and then realized it was me. Joyous reunion, many hugs and kisses. What can I say, we’re a huggy family! She is thrilled with how wonderful everything but the carrots look, and wants to pick stuff RIGHT AWAY. I explain that we’re not there yet, but that before I head to BC for a while, we’ll get some potatoes for supper. Mainly because if I tell The Boy don’t pick any potatoes whilst I’m gone he won’t, but if I tell The Girl the same thing she’ll come up with some very convoluted explanation as to why the fate of the world hung on the need to pick one plant. And that she knew I would understand. So I figured that if she got to eat something before I left, then perhaps she leave the rest be until I got back.

Last Week of July There are bald patches with the carrots and the cukes. We used seed tape for both, and in the cucumber spot I found nibbled bits of seed tape to explain the blank patches. I’m assuming the same thing happened to the carrots, although I continue to water the blank spots just in case. I never did find eat tape so perhaps some seeds were just slow. For no reason that we can figure out, the 40th potato plant peeks its leaves above ground. What was it doing whilst its mates flourished?

First Week of August Just about to go to BC for a while, so I get everything weeded and watered. The house and puppies are being watched after by The Boy, so The Girl is responsible for the garden. We pick some potatoes, and steam them with herbs from the garden (I have an extensive herb garden at the house, totally unrelated to the plot), eat them with butter and pink salt. Heaven on a fork. Even if they are Pontiac Reds!

End of August The scraggly little banana pepper plants are producing like mad, as are the peas. The pepper plants produce peppers as long as the plants are tall. Turns out they’re sweet, so The Boy is a bit sad, but still, we end up with more than twenty six inch peppers from four sad looking little pepper plants. Sadly, the green peppers don’t seem to be doing as well. And the tomatoes…lots of them, but no colour yet. And the cukes, which were a mass of flowers when I left were a mass of flowers when I returned. Will be ever get actual cukes from them?

Early September We’ve eaten potatoes, carrots, pea, onions and peppers from the garden. The melons…suffice it to say that I have AWESOME melons (ha!). There are at least six that are almost ready to eat, and if the 30 degree weather we’ve had so far continues, we’ll do just fine by the melon crop. The pumpkins are finally more than just flowers, and there are a few minute cucumbers amongst all the cucumber vines and leaves, so they may be ok too. This weather is what we should have had – but didn’t – in August. Better late than never!
So there, that’s the garden story. Overall I’m thrilled that I decided to get a spot of a plot in the community gardens. Next year I’ll till in the spring, write down what got planted where, add some sand to the carrot spot and read labels carefully before buying.

Better Yet

2009-09-01T09:34:00.000-07:00

You know what would be nice? If people, when they see you reading during a break at work, just left you alone. I mean seriously, how hard is it to work out that you're involved in something and chat isn't what you're there for?

Better yet...I should develop enough of a backbone to say "I'm on a break and just really want to read. You can ask me about work stuff during work time. Sorry".

You'll get fails, not passes if you cook without glassses

2009-09-01T08:32:00.000-07:00

So, I realized this morning as I was unloading/loading the dishwasher (putting it off until the morning seemed like a good plan last night, but seen in the light of day it was a bad plan) that I had no lunch makings as such for the kids. This whole back to school before the Labour Day weekend messes everything up, so I am not as prepared as I will be once I get back in the school lunch habit.

I also realized that while I did have cold cereal as a breakfast offering (because they're not babies, they can get their own breakfast) I also had blueberries that I needed to eat and/or freeze before they got mouldy and needed to be tossed.

I solved the two problems by making blueberry muffins from a recipe and winging some baked mac 'n cheese. The mac and cheese turned out fine; cheesy, creamy a bit of spice and a cruncy panko topping. Thr crunch likely won't survive being microwaved as school, but it will still be tasty.

The muffins, however....apparently any bite that had a blueberry or a chunk of white chocoalte was fine., bar the slightly soapy aftertaste. Any bite missing on fruit/chocolate was bland. And this all happened because my glasses were at work.

I checked the recipe when I got here (I brought it with me) and as it happens I read baking soda when it was baking powder and I was a third of a cup short on the sweetener. 2/3 cups sugar looks a lot like 1/3 cup sugar when you need glasses and you don't have them. And although I read barking soda and was pretty quick to realize it was baking, not barking I could have saved us all the soapy aftertaste if I'd read powder instead of soda. Ah well, lesson learned. And the muffins will be eaten, and I only used half of the blueberries. The rest got frozen, so I'll be able to redeem myself, blueberrily speaking.

Because they have a black market value.

2009-08-31T08:50:00.001-07:00

This is from the end of my vacation...but I don't want to forget it, so I'm posting. First, a reminder:
Remeber the post about the penguin? Because you need to read it to understand this.

I went on my vacation with two half packed suitcases. One had the few clothes* I was taking, and lots of space and the other had smoked meat things as a thank you to my sizzler and her hubby (Because nothing says "thanks for having me and spoiling me rotten" like freezer packs of bbq, brisket and smoked porc) and more space.

Naturally, on my return both cases were stuffed full. And I still left things behind! I bought tea (duh), clothes, shoes (including my first and only pair of Italian dress shoes), kitchen stuff (duh again) and lingerie (yeah, you could have made this list out yourselves and been pretty much right on target). I also got to bring the penguin home! Almost didn't, and here's why:

We got to the airport and it turns out that one suitcase was overweight and one was underweight. So the check-in person said I could repack them. So I did, and decided that the penguin would just have to stay with dad until some other trip. I took it out and gave it to him. One of the check-in people said I could take it as a carry-on. I didn't think that would work. I already had two carry-on items, my knapsack of cookbooks** and a bag with two boxes of giant Pocky***. Not to mention the fact that the penguin would look like a bomb when the bags got x-rayed.

She went and got a bag and I ended up putting the Pocky and the penguin together. And off I went through security. And yes, the penguin caused some giggles when it went through the scanner. Don't know what they thought it was, but clearly it didn't appear bomb-like because no one asked me about it.

When I got on the plane I decided the penguin could go in the overhead bin, and the knapsack under the seat. I had my book, glasses and wallet in the knapsack, and knew I'd need them. The penguin not so much. It proved to me far more difficult getting the penguin into the overhead bin than I thought it would. I mean it's metal, there is no give. And it's not flat at all, totally the wrong shape for an airplane's overhead bin. I suceeded, but it wasn't easy.

The flight was direct, in the sense that I didn't have to change planes in Calgary. There was a stop in Calgary though. And as we were late leaving BC, we were late arriving in Calagary. The flight person asked everyone that didn't have a connecting flight to stay seated, so that the people who did could make their flights. Naturally, no one listened,and the aisle filled with people desparate to get off the plane so she had to say it again.

The connnecting flight people left, and then the people who were stopping in Calgary left. Which leave a dozen or more still on the plane. There was only a fifteen minute break, so no sense in leaving the plane. Or so I thought.

Turns out they wanted us off, so they could clean the plane. And we were supposed to take our belongings with us. And here's how the conversation went:

Flight Attendant: Please take your belongings, and leave the plane while we give it a quick clean prior to continuing on the flight.
Me: We have to get off? For fifteen minutes?
F.A.: Yes, we need to clean up.
Me: ok...and we have to take our stuff, then?
F.A.: Yes please, everthing.
ME: Everything? Even the overhead bin? You need to clean the overhead bin?
F.A. (with the other passengers listening, and not looking overly happy). Yes, everything that you brought on board has to be removed.
Me: But...it took me forever to fit the penguin in there. And it almost didn't come on the flight at all, because it's a bit akward. Seriously, you want me to take the penguin out, and then try to get it back in ten minutes later? It would be easier to leave it.

This, of course, made perfect sense to me. I knew what I was talking about. I'm guessing, though, from the look on the faces - all of the faces - that everyone else thought I was talking about an actual penguin. I had to show it to EVERYONE then, at their insistance. I think they were disappointed at not capturing a penguin-smuggler.

The weird thing is that the spilled bits of airplane snacks that were on the floor by me seat - they were not mine, there were there when we boarded in BC - were still there when we got back on. So I guess "clean the plane" is code for something else. Like "find the escaped snake and get it off the plane".

* Not only just a few, but totally the wrong type. The week before I left I'd been watching the weather reports. BC was setting heat records all week long. So I brought nothing warm. Not a single long sleeved shirt, even. Good thing I was going somewhere with clothes I could borrow because they didn't set any heat records while I was there. Nice weather, just not screamingly hot is all.

** I put a cookbook in a suitcase once, and it got lost. The cookbooks I took out were two binders. One with all the family recipes and one with the business cookie recipes. I wasn't going to risk losing either of them. So I kept them with me.

***The boy eat these Japanese snacks known as Pocky. They're not very big, maybe three inches. I found a box of Giant Pocky, and they were about a foot long. So I bought him two boxes (he was thrilled), and then realized that if I put them in a suitcase they'd be nothing but Pocky crumbs when I got home. So I kept them with me. Me, the penguin, the Pocky and the sacred cookbooks. And we all made it home, safe and more or less sound.

Vacablog

2009-08-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

I am going to postpone - or possibly cancel - blogging about my vacation. Not sure why. I don't feel like blogging about anything, actually. Who knows - perhaps tomorrow I'll wake up and be all excited about blogging. Maybe.

Vacablog/09

2009-08-24T12:20:00.000-07:00

Vacation, day one, and a bit of the night before:

So, the flight for day one of vacation left at 5:25 AM. Which is early, but it means that I have a full day of vacation when I get there. Leaving at noon makes it seem like your whole day is spent traveling. This way, arrival in BC was 8:00.

The night before…ok, I wasn’t as great at getting ready as I could have been. But I was better than usual! I thought The Girl would be pleased with how early I started getting ready. Early to me, at any rate. Not early at all according to her: I was in the bath at nine PM (nothing done at that point) when she knocked on the door and said “I would be packed TEN TIMES OVER this close to leaving. Why aren’t you PACKING?”

So when I got out of the tub I brought two suitcases upstairs. Progress, yes? But really, it was only ten. I had HOURS to get ready. I did try to sleep, for a bit. And the trying worked, since I slept about an hour. And I didn’t go to bed until I’d packed one suitcase. Of course, that meant when I got up (at two, with a departure time of 3:30ish) I still had stuff to do. And the boy never did go to sleep. I drove us out to the airport, and then we switched and after a giant hug (unprompted!) he drove home to sleep and I went to get checked in. I really just needed to get my baggage checked, because I had already done the online check-in that most airlines offer. It makes the whole check-in process much quicker. Always take that option!

No problem with the check in – I’d remembered this time to take my foldy knife thingy out before I went to the airport. Forgot to wear the right underwear, though. Still can’t figure out if the security person who asked if I was wearing an underwire bra – I beeped going through, and the wand thing beeped when he went over the girls – wanted to know because that is part of his job, or if he just wanted to know. Because when I said yes, all he said was fine, you’re good to go. But really, if I’d had a weapon, I would have said yes to that question anyway. I mean, what kind of criminal says “no, it’s a shive” when asked what may be setting the metal detector off? Anyway, barefoot and not really late at all I made it through. And I’m glad that I didn’t get there really early. There was no line to speak of at security and I didn’t have any money on me for tea or anything. So I spent my time making up stories about the other passengers waiting to board the plane.

Quiet and sleepless flight to Calgary, and quiet and sleepless flight to Victoria. Not much to see from the plane due to cloud cover, but there was a LOT of smoke cover as well over BC’s interior. Those poor people – the smoke went on and on and on.

Ma chere sister and her beloved hubby picked me up at the airport. I realized that it was this first time that anyone other than dad had met me at that airport. It was odd not seeing him but he was golfing in a tournament and I was going to be seeing him at the end of my vacation. And a change is as good as a rest, yes?

Breakfast in Victoria at Swans, and that was the beginning of people treating me to things. Seriously, I was spoiled beyond belief this trip. Ok, every trip. I get spoiled every trip. Princess for ten days, really. It was awesome.

Of course not

2009-08-24T10:01:00.001-07:00

There was no happy dryer dance. There was, however, a "bumble bee up my pants repeatedly stinging" bossa nova, a "tap vs. knuckles vs. vise grip” quick step and a “head injury, blood and lump included” hip hop.

I can’t bring myself to go into details. Suffice it to say that I have a new washer that works, and a dryer that would work, except…there is a problem with the wiring. No power from the outlet= no working dryer.

Happy Dryer Dance

2009-08-21T09:00:00.000-07:00

I know, I'm supposed to be blogging about the vacation. But first things first:
Today, at seven PM, the appliance round about begins:

7:00 Mover guy comes to the house and takes away three dead appliances. Two dryers and a washer. There is a dead stove down there too, but that will have to bedealt with some other day. There is also a fridge that works, but I may someday have a need for a beer fridge. 'Cept I don't drink beer. Hmmm. May have to get rid of fridge too.

Mover guy also takes a washing machine that does work. He gets it for free, I don't pay to have it removed and I get a better deal on the cost of the moving.

7:30 I'm guessing here, because I don't know how long it takes to get appliances out of a basement, but when it is done, I head off to the house of the woman that is selling me a new washer and dryer. I pay her and then go back home to clear out a space for the new stuff.

8:15 New dryer arrives, and I will have hopefully figured out how to break off the mighty putty that is holding the old hose onto the taps. Because I'm gonna need those taps!

8:30 I will be frustrated as the news stuff has been delivered and I will be struggling with the duct for the dryer. And no doubt bleeding from whatever stupid thing I've done to get the old hoses off the tap for the washer.

9:00 (a) Filthy but happy, I have a shower and rejoice in the fact that once again I can do laundry in my own home.

9:00 (b) Filthy, angry and in tears I give up and decide to spend Saturday afternoon making things right.

Really hoping for (a). Really quite desperately hoping for (a)!

Delayed Reporting

2009-08-18T10:05:00.000-07:00

I intended, truly I did, to blog during my vacation. This plan was thwarted by a Mac and a stubborn PC. The Mac was an exercise in frustration and the PC just plain hated me. So I didn't get to a computer until I was at dad's.

The upshot of all of this is that I will tell about the trip, but in retrospect not as-it-happens. And at the moment I'm not even sure when the retrospective is going to begin. This week at some point. Maybe.

Vacation in 20 hours

2009-08-04T08:46:00.000-07:00

I leave tomorrow for my much anticipated vacation. My longest-since-maternity-leave break. And given that my babies are 17 and almost 15, it's about time, yes?

I'm not really ready, though. Not at all, actually. No packing done. Because I haven't done any laundry. Which sounds stupid, given that I just had a four day weekend. The problem was not the time, the problem was lack of facilities. I am washer/dryer less. The plan was to have the new washer/dryer in place yesterday afternoon. I was not happy when appliances died, but I ended up with a really good deal. And I was very excited at the thought of a dryer that didn't leave rust spots on anything left in the dryer for more than ten minutes after the cycle ended. I was not surprised when the thing gave up the ghost altogether.

You'd think I would be in a panic to buy new stuff, given the lack of funds that I seem to find myself permanently in. Whoever...I had an extremely lucky serendipitous moment. I ended up arranging to buy a new washer/dryer set. $400.00 for the set, $150.00 to haul four appliances out of my basement and move two new ones in. See? I told you sometimes the weird stuff that happens to me is good stuff!

I had the mover guy set up to do all the moving on Monday. And then I got a call from my washer/dryer seller. She had the flu, and was not allowed to fly home from Edmonton in time for the move.

Right off the bat I’d like to say that I am TOTALLY fine with this. If I were to get on the plane tomorrow only to find that I am seated next to a feverish puking person I would be extremely angry at the airline for allowing said sickie to fly. So I have no problem with the delay, it will just have to be done when I get back.

This, however, means no way to do laundry before I go, and The Boy – who is house/puppy sitting- will have to wash his uniform at his dad’s house. Maybe this will prompt him to buy a second shirt. Maybe I’ll buy him one myself. Maybe not! Because of course, the Friday before I leave I:

Took The Girl to the orthodontist
Took myself to the optometrist
Had the oil changed in the car
Got the money for the washer/dryer
Got the money for the mover
Picked up the stuff from Prairie Dog BBQ to put into the thank you package

All of which, of course, required payment of some sort. And my next pay day isn’t until the 7th. Why I would want to start out my holiday with next to no money is beyond me. It just sort of worked out that way. And I still have to fill the car with gas (because I told The Boy that I would) and give him the money for house sitting. I don’t really need to pay him, but since I won’t be around to feed him, and given that he is WAY cheaper than having the puppies go to a kennel for a long stay I figured some food money would not be amiss.

I didn’t fill the freezer for him this time. I did, though, buy him four litres of milk, two of juice, a bag of bagels and a jumbo box of cereal. I am assuming that he’ll do some eating at his dad’s, and some at work (for instance this week he works Tues-Friday over the supper hour) and other than that he can work it out on his own.

We did get some of the pre-holiday chores done last night: poop scooped and mowed the lawns, moved the new bbq into the back, got the old one ready for the junk yard, moved the wood for the fire pit from the driveway to the back of the house, leveled off a path from the side door of the house to the driveway for the appliance moving guy and raked up broken branches from the last wind storm. Some house work too, but my theory is that The Boy won’t care – much less notice – if the house isn’t perfect. Not that it ever could be, but it could be better than it is. And I may yet do more cleaning. I’m leaving for the airport at 3:30, and if I can’t sleep I might as well clean. I am baking/cooking before I leave too, additions to the Thank-You box ‘ o treats.

In an attempt to make the early morning check-in easier, I went to do the online booking this morning. You can do that 24 hours in advance, and it means you can go in the short line at the airport. Naturally, that didn’t go smoothly. I couldn’t get on because my last name kept coming back as invalid. By the time I found a way to get my booking number (the insurance file), I had already been trying to call their “help”* line for forty-five frustrating minutes. Turns out my last name was fine (duh – I do know how to spell my own last name), but the booking number was wrong. I managed to be fairly wound up not to mention irate but I’ve since calmed down….somewhat.

The problem was that I couldn’t get to my reference number from the email they sent unless I had…the reference number. Thank heavens that the insurance form had a side note that included the flight booking number.

I put help in quotation marks on purpose. The line was VERY unhelpful. The recorded voice said that due to the number of people trying to book flights, the line was busy. Please call again. No number to call if you were NOT calling to book a flight, and no being put on hold with “your call will be answered as soon as a customer service representative becomes available”. Just call back. Which I did, over and over again. Not helpful, not in the least.

That is my day so far. In the end I’ve decided not to worry about laundry, thanks to the insurance form I have checked in and have my boarding pass and given that I started ridiculously early and will be skipping lunch (three people away sick, so I am working over the lunch hour) I can leave quite early. Hooray!

Vacation Blogging

2009-08-04T08:44:00.000-07:00

I am going to make an attempt to blog every day of my impending vacation. With the exception of Friday-Saturday because I don't have a lap top and I don't know if I'll have access to a computer in Vancouver.

I may even blog today's events. Because despite the hour, there are vacation related events already!

If, or I am going to?

2009-07-23T07:02:00.000-07:00

My homepage occasionally starts my day with an ad. Not usually a problem, as I frequently don't even notice what it is. Today, however, my day started with this in bold type staring me in the face:

If you die TODAY, life insurance could be your family's Prince Charming.

Kinda sounds like....they think it would be best all around for the family if I DID die today. Or are they trying to tell me that I am going to die today? And seriously - they wouldn't get any actual money until they're 18. So it would be living with their dad all the time, waiting to be old enough to inherit. And given how things are going at the moment I don't think my family would be all that thrilled. So forget it insurance ad, I am NOT going to die today. Not on purpose, anyway.

Opportunity may knock only once, but temptation leans on the doorbell.

2009-07-22T08:38:00.000-07:00

When you’ve got energy you have to sublimate, temptations best left alone (murder, sex, arson, yodeling, bank robbery) there are things you’d think would work that just don’t. And because I’ve tried them out and know they don’t work I’m willing to let you know what they are so that you can try something else. Something more helpful.

Housework: this is the worst one. It gives you time to think about how to get rid of the body.

Gardening: ok, this is better, but can be dangerous depending on what’s tempting you. If it’s canoodling then hanging around fit shirtless men – or short shorts wearing women should that be your preference! – is not a good plan.

House Repairs: doesn’t work at all – just reminds you of how much easier it would be if the whole thing just burned to the ground.

Biking/Gym/Walking/Biking: similar problem to gardening.

Making Butter: No, that’s not a euphemism for something you’re trying to avoid. I mean actual butter, from actual cream. Doesn’t take long enough and while the result is yummy it can also lead to a boycott of anything but homemade butter. And that just increases your workload, so take my word for it and don’t even try.

Baking/Cooking: this one isn’t too bad. But it might explain the size that I am, so be careful with this one.

Canning/Preserving: This comes the closest. As a matter of fact, if you have boxes and boxes of fruit to can and/or jam, by the time you’re done you’re way too tired to do anything. But getting boxes and boxes of fruit is expensive and it means….

Shopping: Terrible, just terrible. I hate shopping, so the only thing that makes it moderately enjoyable is having fistfuls of money. Which I never seem to have. Which leads to the contemplation of robbing a bank which puts me back at square one.

I’ve been as helpful as possible. In return all I ask is to let me know if you find something that works. Please.

My Mother was a Circus Clown

2009-07-20T13:40:00.000-07:00

For those of you who firmly believe that I never have even a moment of co-ordination, this is for you:

I was biking to church on Sunday. In a skirt and top, on a really lovely day. However...not far from home a spider that had been hiding somewhere decided to climb up over my hand. Which elicited a scream from me. And I didn't fall off the bike.

And because it was clearly out to kill me, I started flailing my arms in a panic, hoping to kill it first. And I didn't fall off the bike.

Said flailing arms hit the basket - which had baking, a raincoat and my only pair of glasses - which promptly popped off its hook. With one arm still flailing I managed to catch the basket before it hit the ground, and get it hooked on a handle. And I didn't fall off the bike.

The spider was either killed or disappeared on its own, I had my basket with all of its contents intact, and a shred of a shred of dignity and through the whole thing I didn't fall of the bike.

See? I'm not always a klutz. At least that's how I'm looking at the whole thing.

Sadly, that one shred of dignity melted away when we first went to stand during the service and I realized that the lining to the skirt (totally necessary, given the thin material of the skirt and the screaming fuschia of the underwear) was more or less around my waist. I tried surreptitiously pulling it into place but in the end had to scuttle past the couple holding hands, trying without an unsurprising lack of success to pull the hem of my top down far enough to hide the wardrobe malfunction. Still, it was a nice day and I enjoyed the ride home. No spiders, and I arrived home with all articles of clothing where they were supposed to be.

No, I didn't

2009-07-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

You know how when you google something, or seach on a website sometimes (particularly if you type too quickly and spell things incorrectly) you get the "did you mean" message?

I was searching for "Cooking with Mint", and got this:
"Did you mean 'Booking with mintey'?"

I don't even know what booking with mintey would be so no, I didn't.

Millions of Peaches. Or Parcels.

2009-07-15T12:03:00.001-07:00

I have caught the bug of online ordering. Not that I do a lot, but every now and then there is something, some ingredient or some pan or tool, that I can’t find locally that I end up ordering online. I always have whatever I’ve ordered sent to the office instead of the house, so there is no waiting around for a convenient time to take the delivery notice to the post office to pick up my package.

So far I’ve ordered vanilla pulp (twice!), a cookie cutter, a set of cookie stamps, some edible silver pearl dust for an upcoming wedding cake and some books.

After years of getting the same out-of-print book from the library every summer (yes, I’ve copied some of it but it isn’t the same), I’ve decided it was high time to buy a used copy for myself.

The book in question is a cookbook – what, me, a cookbook? I bet you’re totally surprised – called Canadian Country Preserves by Blanche Pownall-Garett. It is the book I get my recipe for spiced peaches*. A recipe that has the highest PIA factor of anything I do, including puff pastry and such. It takes DAYS. And I’m making some this summer. Just for me and those I love – it would be impossible to sell, the price I’d have to charge to cover the effort would make it un-sellable.

I really enjoy the book because she not only does she have recipes and pictures for the usual things like crab apples and peaches, but there is a host of things that grow wild that one never sees in stores. I’ll be in BC in August this year, so my hope is that the book arrives before I leave (I’m gone in three weeks). Then I can take it with me and look for island hidden treasures.

Since I was ordering one book anyway, I went ahead and got another book of scented poetry. I’d wax on about that too but I don’t know any other poetry readers. I know they’re out there, I just don’t know any.

*Spiced Peaches are an eight day task, but one ends up with sweet/sharp slippery cool peaches that are the BESTEST accompaniment to Curry. Or any other Indian food for that matter. One tends to question one’s sanity during the making, but during the eating it all becomes clear. You suffer during the making to enjoy the result. I haven’t made it in ten years, but this is the summer. No excuses!

What you see depends on what you want

2009-07-15T09:06:00.000-07:00

I sometimes mis-read ads, generally because I've mixed up a letter or two, or because my brain read one word or phrase incorrectly.

Today, though, I read the subject line in a piece of spam correctly and yet got it completely wrong. Why? Because I'm not an older man, I'm an under-rested middle aged woman.

The subject line was "You too can spend more time in bed!"

And my instant thought was 'AWESOME. There is a way to spend more time sleeping, less time working, doing laundry, walking dogs, cleaning the house, cooking, driving, repairing things, working a second job blah blah blah. Oh. They're selling Viagra. Ok. I get it. Oops".

Shopping unzipped.

2009-07-13T10:43:00.001-07:00

Why, when you're at a doctor's office going over an x-ray (where you had to get undressed and into that paper outfit thingy) would said doctor not mention that your dressed is still unzipped on the side?

WHY?

And if you're wondering why I wouldn't notice, well...it had a slip lining thingy, so there was no breeze or anything And it was a new Sunday-go-to-meeting dress that I wasn't familiar with. Didn't even realize it had a zipper until I took it off in the little x-ray booth thingy. Urgh.

You know it's bad when

2009-07-10T09:46:00.000-07:00

So I haven't been blogging for a bit. I've been sick AGAIN. But now I've had a bazillion tests. Not to find out what is wrong (although that was what the doctor wants to know) but to find out why, (given my vastly improved diet, exercise routine and sleeping habits) I am STILL catching every cold that comes along. Pneumonia once, colds forever - is it possible that having pneumonia killed my immune system?

Anyway - back at work. I worked a half day on Wednesday, and that's been it for me for this week. And how did I know it was bad on Wednesday? I was in a meeting, a teleconference. I wasn't coughing - nor was anyone else - but at one point someone on the other end of the phone asked "is there something wrong with the line? We're getting a weird noise". Turns out the weird noise was me. Just breathing. Breathing that came out in whistles and rails. Hooray for liquid lungs.

"Come let us have some tea, and continue to talk about happy things"

2009-06-30T08:24:00.000-07:00

People-ok, not many, but enough -keep telling me I need to get out there and meet someone. I’m fine with the getting out bit. I don’t want to end up as the crazy lady with all the teapots* and puppies, so I started a new plan last October:
If I’m invited to something and it is free, I have to go. If I’m invited and it doesn’t cost much I either go, or come up with a really good reason to decline. If it costs a lot, but I really want to go and the only reason I’m not is because I’m single then I go, and have fun because I’m somewhere doing something I really want to do.

That takes care of the going out bit. Meeting someone? Not so much. God’s going to have to plunk someone down right in front of me, and just to be sure I don’t walk past said fellow it would help if he was plunked down wearing a giant red ribbon. There is, of course, the possibility that the going-out part will lead to the meeting part. But given the places I seem to end up going to, that seems unlikely.

Take last night for instance. I was invited out to a craft class. Despite being totally non-crafty, I said yes. It’s a good thing the girl doesn’t read the blog, she’d be falling off her chair laughing at the thought of me taking a craft class. I am not glue-gun gifted. As it turned out, I was one in a class of twenty or so crafty, overweight, middle-aged white women - except I wasn’t crafty. I fit the rest of the profile, though! There was one thin woman in the group, and one young (say twenties or so) woman. And the only colour in the room came from the craft projects. Skin-wise we ran the gamut of colour from pasty white to pasty white with a sun burn.

I did have a decent time though and, most importantly, it saved me from my planned evening of housework. And if such a class comes up again, I know the girl would love it so I may end up going again.

*I collect teapots, somewhat unintentionally. How does that happen? Here’s an example:
Christmas 2007 I made the comment that it was odd that I didn’t have a Christmas teapot, given the number of teapots I DO have. In January, a co-worker dropped off a poinsettia teapot from the Monet collection. Then at some point in the summer, I saw the Water Lilyfrom the same collection. Both of these teapots are at work.

Last summer I bought a different co-worker some tea. It was a blend that we had both enjoyed but hadn’t been able to find. The next thing I know, there is a new teapot on my desk as a thank you. Two weeks ago, I came into work on a Monday to find a teapot on my desk with a note saying “this teapot called your name, so I got it for you. Happy Monday!”

Lastly, at a silent auction my girl ended up getting me a tea pot set. A lovely little boxed teapot with four wee cups. And somewhere in their Mayb gave me this lovely tea box. So now I have five teapots on a shelf at work, along with the tea box. Everyone that sees them assumes I’m purposely collecting teapots. Not that they’re completely off the mark – I do buy teapots myself sometimes – but I never started out to purposely collect them!

The title? Chaim Potok.

Karma.

2009-06-23T09:03:00.000-07:00

That saying “what goes around comes around” doesn’t always happen. For instance, I was a typical – perhaps even worse than typical – veggie-hating child. I was ok with raw veggies, just didn’t like them cooked. Except corn, of course. Not liking creamed corn is like not liking puppies. If you meet someone who hates corn AND puppies, run. Run for your very life.

Sometimes Karma does catch up to one, though. When my girl was six, we got new neighbours. She took it upon herself to meet them. A feat she accomplished by marching over, walking into their house and announcing a) her presence and b) her intention of becoming best friends with them. And guess what? That line of chatter hasn’t stopped, not in the nine intervening years.

Not with them moving away to various locations. Not with anything. If she could phone the dad up – he lives in the Ukraine now – she would. And talk his ear off. Mayb bears the brunt of it, as she is the only one that hasn’t moved far away. Did they move to escape the chatter? Could be, could be.

So this spring we got new neighbours. New neighbours with small children. Three of them, and a fourth on the way. The little girl is five. Here is an actual conversation (it counts as conversation even if I only say one thing, right?) we had one day when I was leaving to pick the boy up from work:

Small Chatterbox:
Hi! What’s your name again?
Did you tell me your name before?
Do you remember my name?
Where are you going?

Me:
To pick A. up from work

Small Chatterbox:
Really?
Where does he work?
What’s his name again?
Why does he have to work?
Do you always have to get him?
Are you coming back?
Is he coming with you?
What’s your name again?
My name’s XXXX
Does he come outside?
Does he like to play?
Is he old?
Where’s that girl you had? (good question!)
What’s she doing?
Aren’t you taking her?
Does she get to stay alone?
When are you coming back?
Do you have a dad? (to be fair, I think she meant do the kids, but who knows)
I have brothers.
I’m five
How old are your kids?
How old are you?
Ok. Bye!!!
She then skips off, not one of her questions answered. Not because I wouldn’t answer, but because she didn’t even pause to take a breath between them all.

Buttery Tears

2009-06-22T20:07:00.000-07:00

I don't know what y'all do when you're close to crying and really don't want to, but I bake. Pastry, generally. Something time consuming and fiddly, and completely distracting.

So tonight I made puff pastry. Roll, chill. Fold, roll, chill. Repeat. Until you have the required layers of cold butter and pastry. The problem with this method is that you end up with pastry. Oodles of buttery yummy pastry. Or, in this case, three dozen hazelnut Palmiers.

Don't get me wrong, I'd happily eat them all. But that would serve no purpose, now, would it? So I wrapped up three containers and delivered pastry hither and thither. Which may be weird, but at least I'm not as big as a bus. Yet.

Merci, Mental_Floss

2009-06-17T13:30:00.000-07:00

I've been trying for years to explain my preference for across-the-pond humour over south-of-the-border humour. Not to mention my preference for spelling, grammar, world view, nudity and gun laws. Back to the point! Thanks to a bit from Mental_floss, I have the perfect line. The two shows they refer to are A Man about the House and Three's Company, by the by:

Despite the basic similarities between the two shows, the British version relied more on crisp writing and witty dialog than the slapstick and “jiggle” used to attract the American audience.

Row upon row of chairs, and this is the row I get.

2009-06-10T12:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Woman Sitting Next to me in this long row of chairs;

There are things people shouldn’t assume. Not all squealing teenagers at a Hannah Montana concert will be girls. Crazy + Cat Lady don’t always go together. Very few people who ask "how are you?" actually want to know how you are. A man’s shoe size means nothing, or clowns would be more popular. Using a blackberry doesn’t mean the text is too small for someone sitting beside you to read. Please pay particular attention to that last one, ok?

You know what else? Don’t assume that I didn’t recognize a) your name, b) the name of your lover, c) the name of your lover’s wife and d) the name of your husband.

You’re right if you’re assuming that I wouldn’t stoop to blackmail. You’d be making a bad assumption if you think that most people would be above it. I don’t think the gentleman on the other side of you would stoop to it either, but the possibility of his having a heart attack reading the salacious details of your messages is, on the other hand, moderately high.

I get that sometimes meetings like this are boring. I myself understand wanting to nip out for a quickie – take note, striped blue tie guy in the back row – but seriously, in the men’s room? During a conference? Do you WANT to be caught?

Speaking of being caught…your insistence to online lover that your teenage son can’t possibly know what you’re doing is seriously misguided. Do you recall being a teenager? I mean, I have a teenager too, but I think even in his most self-involved moments he would notice late night arrivals/early morning departures. When this coincides with your Mr.’s out of town trips the chances that he knows go up to oh, say, 100%. For all you know, he may have his OWN late night arrivals/early morning departures going on. And if he does he either thinks you don’t know or has justly decided that what is good for the goose is good for the gander.

So…put the Blackberry away and start paying attention to the speaker. Or keep your thoughts in your head and off your easy-to-read blackberry. Thanks.

Shift your Gift

2009-06-08T15:05:00.000-07:00

I generally like to mosey along when I'm at the office. I work hard, but I don't think I need to run to lunch, or jog to the bathroom or race to the other branch when the need me. However...

I DON'T like standing behind people who have stopped to think about what they're going to do next and have decided to have the conversation about that decision whilst they're standing in the doorway. The doorway I need to get to. Most people, when they see you waiting to get through move aside. Some politely, some with a hint of embarassment ( I do that) and some with a snort of irritation, as though their need to stand in the doorway outweighs your need to pass through it.

This afternoon, though, the two ladies in front of me weren't most people. They didn't move out of the way at all. Yes, they saw me, they just didn't move. So I said - quite politely - "pardon me" and went to move forward. At which point they stopped their discussion and one woman said "yes?" as though she was sitting at the front desk at a hotel waiting to check me in. Clearly, the only reason I would interrupt this important discussion was to ask them something. Something burningly important. Fine - you want a question, I'll give you a question.

"would you mind moving from the doorway that you're blocking? Great. Thanks".

I could have added where in the building they could find a woman's bathroom but decided against it. That's one door you don't want blocked in time of need. And her snooty "yes?" made me decide that she could use having to wander around looking for relief somewhere.

Of course I did.

2009-06-08T09:42:00.000-07:00

I decided to take a tea break today, despite the work I need to have finished by the end of the day. I wanted to read a bit more of the current book. The current book that is with me, of course. Because I have one at home that I'm also partway through, and one in the car that is almost done. Anyway, as is my wont, I took the elevator so I could read on the way upstairs. And was joined by a guy, also going to the third floor. I know he was, because I asked. One always asks, if you're standing in front of the buttons, just in case the person wants a different floor.

The doors close, and I continue to read. And then I wonder if this is rude. I also found myself wondering if it was STILL raining outside. Day three of constant rain. So I took my glasses off and closed my book. Looked at the guy, who said "dismal day out there, isn't it?". And because I'm brilliant, I said this bit of insanity:

"I was just checking out your shoulders".

What I MEANT to say was "I was just wondering if your shoulders looked rained on, or if we were lucky enough to have the sun come out for a bit". Naturally, as soon as I said the first part, I realized how it sounded and froze, making it all that much worse. It took me until just before the doors opened to say "looking to see if you looked rained on. Not that I mind the rain. I like the rain. And it's great for farmers. The rain".

Yup, that's me at my eloquent best.

No title. My mind is a blank.

2009-05-29T12:35:00.001-07:00

I may notice spelling/grammar/pronunciation mistakes, but I don't often point them out to the offender. Mainly because the one person I know who does it all the time is rude and irritating and nowhere near as clever as she thinks she is. Sometimes, though, I don't point it out because the mistake is just too entertaining to correct.

For instance, in pre-natal classes, the teacher kept talking about how men need to develop bondage skills. One night she actually said this: "dads-to-be might even think about going into the woods for a male bondage experience. You'd be surprised at what you might learn". Yes indeed, I bet they might! We were the only ones to find this funny, everyone else was so young and so earnest at the whole becoming parents adventure that they just nodded as though their lives depended on doing every thing she said. Or maybe they thought it was the correct use of the word, who's to say?

Today I decided not to correct the woman in the coffee room who was telling one and all (as if we wanted to know) about the surgery she is getting done to get help with her "vicarious veins" problem.

Wow. Absolutely you should get help if your veins are vicarious.