I'd apologize, but I've been tending to the 'dying'. Also, I live in the same house with the best bunch of actors I've seen since Spartacus.

So here it is, New years is upon us, and I dropped the ball. I meant to get a post in everyday this month, but X-mas came, followed by boxing day, followed by three days of every male member of my family getting fevers and rashes. Although the only whining that was really necessary was perhaps from the baby... These are my excuses. So here I am, exhausted and a little worried about the New Year, full of last minute prep for the house gathering I didn't know I was having until 4 o'clock this morning, barely existing off caffeine and sugar from all the baking that no one ate on x-mas. I'm probably going to ring in the new year by sleeping in my youngest's room while the party goes on around me. Such is the life of a mom I guess...


Updated:
So I guess when I was talking with hubby I misunderstood him, it being, you know, 4 in the god-damned morning. Apparently the gathering is not here, but at one of hubby's friends house. And we're just to bring one thing for the 'potluck'. I told him I'm not leaving the house with two small children in tow if I'm not sure I'll be able to stay awake to watch them. So I'm going to spend a quiet new years at home with my kiddies, bestest Saskabusch friend and a bottle of wine, and hubby and anyone else is welcome to join us, since I have now made enough party snacks to feed a small army. fuck sakes. guys have no management skills. Dumbass.

How coffee helped me turn into a Real girl

I started drinking coffee when I was 11.

Along with my two bestest buddies, we'd get together on a regular basis at one or the other of our houses and brew a pot to share throughout the evening. There was always mounds of sugar and truckloads of creamer(powdered at the time-it was the 'in' thing) or milk injected into our cups, and at least a few times we experimented with melted chocolate, caramels, and once, candy corn. That one didn't go well at all, we almost exploded the microwave trying to melt the niblets down and those suckers basically turn into plastic when radiated heated.

The point of these meetings however, was not really the coffee, although it helped some, but to register the fact that we were growing into young women. The coffee was just a fancy sophisticated drink that let us feel ourselves as fancy and sophisticated, we often dressed up( although we weren't going anywhere)to show that we had grown-up tastes that didn't revolve around caffeine levels, and when the parents got sick of our shouting and experimental swearing and we got kicked out of our respective houses and had to find another place to hang out, we found a little Greek hole in the wall and took such pride in ordering our coffees 'black' and sitting in the smoking section like we were responsible and mature young adults.

It makes me laugh still, because that restaurant was forever getting fined from the police for letting minors in the smoking section without adults, and so we constantly had to keep an eye out for cops so we could make a break for it if we had to. It was a bit of a rush to be doing something illegal without actually committing the illegal act, since none of us had started smoking (actually smoking, not just carrying a pack and some matches around, only at school and pretending to inhale so you'd look like The Shit) until a few years after. But we were growing up. We were gossiping, and sharing stories and remember when?'s, although our remembrances were pretty tame at that time, after all, we were only 11/12.

We all met our respective first 'real' boyfriends in that place, broke up with them, cried and bitched over family issues, big or small, learned how to flirt with the waiters (who were much too old and probably thought us crazy when we finally got ballsy enough to slap their arses on the way by) and generally learned how to interact in a close friendship setting. I treasured those years, before bitches and backstabbers, before the hell years of high school and the horror of having to keep a budget, etc.

I'm friends with those girls still, although our coffee dates don't happen as often as we'd like. In fact just the other day, one of those girls and I had a coffee date while picking up our respective random crap in Walmart because, god dammit, that was the only time we had to spare. And that's okay, because it was one of the most enjoyable shopping experiences I've had with my kids in tow.

And it's all to the gratitude of a simple cup of coffee.

Is this the ending of the age of the innocence?

The year I stopped believing in Santa I was 8. or maybe 9. Anyway, sometime during that month, my dad had tried to start a fire in the upstairs fireplace, but the flue was clogged, and we almost got smoked out of the house. Both my sister and I nagged our parents about how Santa was going to get in the house when our fireplace was broken, or if he would skip our house all together. It was a very distressing time.
Well, on Christmas morning, we got up, half-worried there would be nothing under the tree from Santa. When we got to the living room, there was a big white snowy mess from the sliding door to the tree, with boot prints going both ways. I'm pretty sure my sister freaked out for a second, thinking burglars had broke in to steal the remaining presents, until she saw the box from Santa. I was curious as how the snow hadn't melted yet, so I tasted it. It was lemony fresh, and probably a little poisonous. So then I went all CSI on that shit, getting all the shoes and boots from the front door, matching the size to the boot prints in the "snow", looking for trace residue, etc. By the time my parents got up they were completely helpless to defend themselves, as I was firmly aware that Santa Clause was  a ruse. I wasn't unhappy though, and I didn't spoil it for my sister. I became aware that my parents were buying these 'Santa' gifts, and though it took me the better part of a few months to realize it, I became aware that they would keep buying them until they caught on that I knew their naughty secret.

Now my Son is only 6, but he's not quite as gullible as I was then, at least I don't think he is, though he might be...
anyways, even this year I'd become paranoid that whenever we discussed santa with him, he got this little glint to his eyes like he knew something more than I, and he even told me once that the Mall Santas were just people who really like to dress up, but they kept microphones in their costumes so Santa could still hear what everyone wanted. Then he laughed. (I fear he's becoming more like Hubby everyday, telling me something to see my reaction before he says it's bullshit... li'l ol' gullibull me)

So When we went to get Santa pictures with both the kids I was a little curious as to what reaction my eldest would give. Youngest I was well prepared for. Being only 6 months old, he dutifully sat on Santa's lap, until he looked up at the great masses of beard, and then promptly started looking for an escape plan. No tears though. that was nice. Eldest walked silently beside me until we got to Santa's village, and when we got up to the Chair, His eyes lit up, glazed over, and when he sat on Santa's lap, he was almost speechless, which is pretty much fucking impossible in it's own right, and he remained glazed and dazed for the rest of the day. When he went to bed that night, he said to me, 'Santa knows what I want for Christmas mom, so Don't buy it. He'll be mad if he gets a double. '

I needn't have worried so early.

X-mas things that should be year round

You know it's X-mas when you hear crashing and can yell out 'Cat's got the balls again!' and the reply is 'What Colour?'
My hubby's obsessed with X-mas trees now. Not in the getting of the tree, nor the decorating, nor even the looking at, but at the smell. That natural resiny smell that permeates the entire house, no matter what else in it to stink it up. He now wants to have a pine tree in the house at all times. I don't blame him, My childhood house had these big pine/spruce trees dotted all along our front yard, and lining the fence of the back, and it was like playing in my own personal forest. I used to climb up on the roof in the summer to suntan, and the treetops would be there, wafting their delicate scent over the baking roof. The people who moved in after us cut down all but three of the trees, and cut our apple tree down too. Bastards.
Anyways..

We need to have eggnog in the grocery year round. I know, I know, you can make it yourself, but what homemaking mother with a lonely looking bottle of rum wants to go through the trouble of all that cooking when you can just pay the 3.95 to get liquored on a weekday? And besides, it would bring more Festivity to the rest of the year as well, so Bonus.

Boxing Day should be once a month. That way everyone could go crazy at Walmart for the 30% off on everything that nobody needs.

Gingerbread should be in style year round too. What else am I going to dip in my Happy Mommy Eggnog?

Other than that, everything else can go. I have spoken.

An X-mas Ditty.

In the spirit of Eldest going around the house singing the Twelve days of Christmas non-stop for the last couple of weeks while not really knowing all the words so filling in the blanks with -bags of poop- (believe me it's a treat to hear that 9 out of twelve days his true love gave him poo) I have come up with my own version. But to keep the repetitiveness out of the game, because it's annoying, I'll start with Twelve and work my way down.

*Ahem*

"On the Twelfth Day of X-mas my Hubby Gave to me:
-Twelve tries to guess what he got me
-Eleven dirty dishes hidden
-Ten Hours to find a sitter for a
-Nine o' clock X-mas party
-Eight cups of Coffee
-Seven Farmville requests
-Six last minute presents to send out
FIVE BROKEN  TREE BALLSSS!!!!
-Four loads of laundry
-Three unpaid bills
-Two stinky kids
And a BAR FULL OF VODKA FOR MEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

thank-you.

Teaching the kids sports, or the Retirement Plan.

Eldest went skating for the first time yesterday. Well, the first two times. He and hubby went in search of a rink towing along their refurbished skates and sticks. Both were very excited, and this is the first new thing that Eldest has tried that on the beforehand there was no fear in his eyes, just excitement. They found a rink, and as hubby broke in the 'new' skates, eldest tried his luck on his own. Only when he fell down for the first time, and tears welled up in his eyes, did hubby tell him that skating is mostly about falling down, or not falling down. And as he looked around the rink at the older kids playing hockey or racing games, he saw that they too were in the process of either falling down, or getting someone else to fall down. By the end of their first run, he was so  enthralled, that instead of us going again today, he insisted he take me out after supper yesterday to show me how good he was. So after supper me and my Eldest went to the skating rink, empty this time, and bitter cold and blustery, to have him show me how to skate.
Now I admit, skating has never been my thing, I've always been more into Skiing, so I don't have skates, but I went out on the ice with him anyways, in case he needed hands for balance. So imagine how surprised I was when he out skated me. His second time Ever, and he was already faster than me. Sure, he was running more than skating, but there was some gliding in there, and he had excellent balance. I always thought that if there was anything Eldest excelled at that would pay for my early retirement, it would be in music or drama or writing books or something. But maybe we have a mini Sidney in the making. maybe...

I thought parvo was for Dogs...

I am perturbed. I have recently come more into the knowledge about children's sicknesses.There are 6 common diseases for a child to catch, that a child will most likely catch before age 10. Apparently they're called diseases now, and not just colds or infections. These 6 diseases are all viral, and most have a fatality rate lower than the common cold. The others we get shots against. All these diseases have a fever, followed by feeling crappy for a while, followed by a breaking of the fever and then 2-3 weeks of a rash that's non-contagious. You basically tell eaach on paart by what the rash looks like.  When I was younger and my Eldest was little, he probably got all of these, but I was much better at dealing with them, since I didn't have the internet and my neurotic Husband to make me all paranoid about the little things.

This year, My youngest Has gotten Sixth's disease, where the fever is high, the baby is a cranky bitch, and then the fever suddenly disappears, and it looks like baby has been rolling in the red ant hill, at least from head to belly.  My oldest is probably going to be infected with Fifths disease, since a letter got sent home from school saying there was an outbreak of it, and eldest always brings home treats for the family. Fifth's disease has a low-grade fever with a general malaise, or feeling icky, followed by a cheek-slap rash, which then moves down to the body. Great. so my child gets quiet and icky feeling, then gets a rash that looks like we beat him? Not to mention fifth's disease is a form of parvo. wait. parvo? Bloody Parvo!!!!!! Parvo isn't even in the spell-check dictionary for fucks sakes.

I can't wait for them to get the other diseases, and be the FIRST FAMILY TO COLLECT ALL 6!!!!!

yaayy....

By the way, here's where I'm getting all my awesome fact knowledge from. Medicine net. I chose it coz it sounded like where my grandparents live, and I always put all factors into account yo.

Tips for the half- awake mom:

1. When making Mac and cheese, Check the label on your soy milk to make sure it's not vanilla flavoured. There is not enough hot sauce in the world to tone that shit down.

2. Turn on the light when making Coffee. Yes, I know you know where everything is, and you're a master at the squinty pour, but when your hubby decides to be helpful by pre-making the pot the night before, it won't go well.

3. Take the Damn Dog to a groomer. He is a 90 pound lab.  He is sooo Not as easy to trim nails on as the cat is.

4.  Turn on the light when putting on your clothes.  come on. Even just a lamp. *sigh* you better be relieved you don't own any thongs. (due to the big butt collapse of 2009, in case any of you actually needed to know that )

5. Dammit, just because you go to the gym now does NOT mean you can reward yourself with cheeseburgers! No! Bad Mommy, that's NO! *face squirt from water bottle* that's a Baad Mommy.

6. Remember the laundry detergent when you do laundry.

7. Remember you did laundry.

8. Please, please, remember to let the dog out at night. He thinks he's a cat if you don't and it just scares Eldest when he has to clean the cat litter tray and he thinks daddy's been sleep-pooping again. (High-fives for the sleep-pooping thing though, wonder if hubby will ever catch on...)

9. Remember to let hubby help around the house, even if you have to reorganize what he did after he leaves the room. He offered to help, it's his funeral.

10. If you stopped drinking what's left in the coffee pot at night, maybe you'd get some actual sleep, and then maybe you wouldn't have to write these stupid tip sheets for yourself, dumb-ass.

I put it EVERYWHERE! wait. what?

Kay, what is up with Children's Cartoon Writers? seriously. They either have the Disney Complex(see: dirty old men trying to put dirty notes or peni into the background of Disney movies for shits and giggles) or have way to much time on their hands, or even worse, they aren't even aware of what they're doing...

Turned on the  T.V. today to come upon Dora the Explorer's Boots singing about blue balls. really.
I tried to find a vid for it, but all I got were parodies, or parents trying to video it as it plays on t.v.(which doesn't work. really) or people with even more ickies and time on their hands. So here is the closest thing to sane I found to purvey what I came across.




yeah...

We all need men like this, but maybe with less eye make-up...

In keeping with yesterday's theme of X-mas music, here is the only X-mas song I've found that is recent and actually meaningful. Damn you Tim Minchin, for making me all weepy.

Wham! Bam Thank-you maam

So, the Bulgarians have named Wham!'s song Last Christmas the most annoying holiday song ever. I agree.

*FLASHBACK!*

When I was young we always went to my grandparents for Christmaas, and sincew I was studying the piaano at the time, they had an electric piano they would haul out of the garage every year for me to bugger around on. Now I'm not sure if the new electric pianos have a demo song, I assume they do, since you can't step into the piano section of any music store without some annoying kid pressing all the demo buttons like a drunk at Walmart in the tickle-me-Elmo section. This particular keyboard had Wham!'s song as it's demo, since at the time it had probably just come out and was really popular. I didn't know what it was at the time, since my first big musical memories start around the time Aqua's Barbie Girl came out, so I didn't know how annoying it was to become. I used to push that damned demo button all the time and  pretend I was playing the song every Christmas, and my Gathered Family would all smile ingratiatingly and cheer at my "Skillz". I didn't even know what the song was called until a couple of years ago. But ever since I pulled my Big Girl pants on and moved out, I've hated that song with a passion.

At least I know the Bulgarians have my back if I decide to go all Bat-shite cRazy on George Micheal or that Ridgeley guy.

With lack of anything better to do in my dreams, it seems I'm reverting to my high school self.

I had a dream last night that I was still in high school. or maybe college. Anyways, I was in the music class and we had to sing an x-mas song for the teacher, and the teacher volunteered me to sing the main bit. So Apparently I have been watching too much Sister Act 2 cuz all the sudden we were all singing Joyful Joyful,


*Totally not even an x-mas movie, but Lauren Hill was awesome before she went bat-shite*

 and I sang out the first verse. And it was horrible. In real life I sing, and in dream life I've always been better because I can access ll the little terms and ditties that I can never recall in real life. So you can imagine how bad it was for me to listen to myself in my dream. I could hear every missed cue, every inflection or warble gone horribly wrong, and how deep my voice sounded comparatively. But the other kids in the school didn't notice. They thought it was amazing, so they voted me to sing to some director of the board of Education or something. Maybe the program was going under or something? I don't know. So We started practicing, and it's just like every over-achieving-stressed kids nightmares, when all the students around you are saying 'I'm counting on you', and 'You better not let us down' and shit like that. And then I started mixing up the lyrics. Let me tell you it was Fucking terrifying. And then the big boss guy came in and all the sudden the room was bigger, and there was a stand in the front of the room and I got pulled to one side by the teacher basically telling me to 'Not screw up'. Then I went up and did the same horrible job I did the first time, only it was worse because the room was deadly silent, and every one realized this time round just how bad I was, and then I got pulled out of the room mid song by the big boss and the teacher, and they expelled me right there, and then the kids in the class decided to have a good ol' fashioned torch mob and come after me, and then I woke up.

Moral lesson? Don't eat the white Ferrerro Rochers before bed. They're coconut and white chocolate, and I swear the center has LSD in it, and that's why no one eats them anymore. fuck me.



p.s. I love the rap in this song, it makes absolutely no sense other than it's catering to the 'cool' people. Stay in School y'all.

False alarm

So apparently when I said we had a virus, it was actually a firewall that had been built by our 22 year old computer genius buddy to keep out viruses. This kid's a little bit weird, but he built our computer from scratch, put all sorts of junk in it to make it run Really fast, with all the newest programs on it. Verry nice.


p.s. the A on my new keyboard sticks so much that when I was writing alarm I had to do it 6 times cuz it kept looking like lrm. aalrm. alrm...... yeh....a........

New Nephew!

My hubby's sister had their baby on Thursday Night, a nice little baby boy, Easton. My hubby thinks it's funny that they're naming their kid after sports equipment, but I don't think it ever crossed their minds. She had to have a c-section because the baby's heart was slowing down, so she's going to be in there for a few days. Her mom said she booked a special private room in the hospital, but since she had the C, she can't have it because it doesn't have an adjustable bed. I'm not so sure what a special private room would include, mebbe a view that's not of the parking lot or cafeteria.....

Anyways, going to see them all today, although apparently you can't bring kids on the ward unless they belong to the one in the ward, which, whatever...

BABIESSSS!!!!!!!!

short, cuz my computers sick

My computer has frozen three times in the process of trying to write this post, and on the last time it froze I shut the computer down, and a grey screen came up for just  second, and all I could make out was a pixelated happy face and the words AWW SNAP!!
I think I have  virus or something.

Not perfect.

I'm following with the theme of showing you people things that I think are important to today's society. Well, maybe not important, per Se, but we all obviously think  about them now and again, and in fact, there's no better way to convey this meaning than in a well-written, extremely well-played comedic Song. Careful though, you might get swept away a little too much by the sheer awesomeness of this to realize all the little jokes written in.

On the subject of Gifts.

I was recently asked that I chip in for a gift for someone this year. When I replied that I wanted to do something a little more personal, I was told that everyone else was also giving seperate gifts as well, biut they were also chipping in on this, as it was a big-money item. I then asked what else the caller was giving, and they stated that they had thought up the idea for the community present, and since they were paying for the bulk of the gift, that was their gift. right.
From family and friends, but mostly us.
In the upcoming year, my family does have a titch more money than last year, but still feeble comparatively, and I have never felt an obligation to gift someone who expects it. I was told by this person, that it wasn't obligatory, but it was stated in such a manner to make it so. I'm not a fan of The Guilt Trip, and I am not a fan of being prompted or pushed into what to do, what other people think is the right way for me to act. Especially in the act of gift giving. There has always been a social stigma around this, and though I know the family that I talk to is very understanding, and well, acts like Family, I find it hard to believe that just because you're related to someone, that entitles them to trinkets from you at all Holly-days. I don't know what the rules are in cause to this, I don't know why immediate family is entitled to bigger gifts than non-immediate family, I don't know why grandparents need family mementos only, while children need the most impersonal of gadgetry, and I don't know why certain people will gossip over who got who what, and what that means in regards to who likes who better. I myself haave never had to deal with this kind of behavior in my youth, and so find it disturbing that I should reform to their ways now. When I was alone with my eldest, and X-mas came around, or any holly-day for that matter, my son gave me Hugs wrapped in a Blanket, a gift I remember my sister doing sometimes for my parents, and it didn't matter that it was free. What mattered was that they wanted to give. Crude crayola drawings, Toast, and one very crunchy pot of Coffee have been my gifts, aand I couldn't be happier at receiving them. In turn, due to my poorness, I sent out pictures of my son to family, and I know that sounds corny and show-offy and cheap, but when you're from a close family,(and not everyone is that lucky) and you don't live in the same area code any more, it's nice to get news of the family.
So this is what I have to say. Spend whatever you want on gifts, make it as impersonal or personal as you want, choose whatever. But don't do it out of habit or obligation,or expectation of something in return(because sometimes they won't, and they have their reasons) do it because you want to and care.

Wordless Wednesdays #5, X-mas Songs, re-did

In light of me having a pretty slow life, and still writing bout the Zeitgeist of the world, during X-mas no less, Here are a few of Cultures most Favoritest songies.



cuz everyone loves pop songs about latkes!






you know, he has a point.an extremely annoying crap-rap point, but still...



Just cuz I can. Every blog needs more bum.

On the elderly, fear, and Ice skating

As winter begins to present itself in full force, I\m again reminded of more reasons to be mortally afraid of driving with children.
When the First Snow hits, the drivers in the city remind me of little kids playing hockey, falling down a lot, crashing into each other, and usually forgetting altogether about the puck.
When the first melt comes, everyone becomes stock car racers,  trying to urge all puddles off the road by driving as fast and reckless as they possibly can.
Then the final freeze. When all the slush that's left on the road freezes over, and is made 'luxuriously' smooth by those fast tires.
Now, being where I am, it's pretty common for everyone to know how to ice skate, from a very young age, no less. But somehow all that training goes out the window when tires re applied instead of skates. Our insurance here is gov.t regulated, I think mainly because no other competing company wants to have to cash in on so many claims all at once.
Also, maybe it's the snow, maybe the cold, but a lot of people lose their sight really easily in the winter, eyes glazed past the 'baby on board' and 'student driver' stickers, which are pretty much no good here.
Then there are the types of bad drivers to negotiate with:
We've  got teens with novices licences wanting to joy ride and scare the crap out of everyone they drive beside; or Albertans, who are used to speed limits twice that of ours; or little old ladies who just want to get to bingo in their old school tanks that take up two lanes; or the farmers who only follow dirt road speeds and don't pay any attention to any driving sign,road mark, or light. I could go on, but those four types feature prominently, and for that alone the bus doesn't sound so bad.
But then I'm left with a conundrum on the buses too, since toting around a baby in the heavy-duty stroller that's needed for winter is pretty much banned from the bus, and the price of a bus pass costs more than insuring my car and filling the tank every month, ( though I have a pretty old and crappy car, so that cheapens things up a bit too)  and the buses are usually so cram packed with students and elderly, that there's no room for even me, let alone a baby.  So I'm left to drive on side roads to most of my destinations, waiting until peak traffic has passed, which only leaves about 4 hours in the days to drive, and I'm pretty much screwed in the bad driver department, since you'll never escape the little old lady with the penchant for bingo.  *sigh*

Everything sounds better in the Bathroom. Except frying meat. That's just disturbing.

 Here. Have one of the Best Canadian Bands Lead guitarist. In a Bathroom.

Eldest's Conditional Training

The family rule has been that no X-mas decorations go up until after mommy's b-day, that way it actually feels like X-mas. This year, since Hubby was out of town, and I was running out of ideas to keep both kiddos simultaneously entertained, and since eldest was all 'X-mas decorations!', and 'We should really get some decorations that we can decorate this year',. and 'When do we get to start making the X-mas Treats?' Usually I like this part too, because I get to go to the dollar store sand grab a whole bunch of crap to put up, and I love baking and giving people sugar overdoses, (especially myself) and mostly because then I get to wander around all the stores that bring tons of X-mas crap in and I can giggle like an idiot at the huge X-mas balls,

 or Santa on a rope,

 or the Rudolph that wiggles his tush at you when you walk by. 

 So this year, the house has already been half festooned with x-mas crap, in an effort to keep kiddo busy.

hehe, hairy x-mas balls...

Also, on a completely different, yet somewhat related topic, Nobody gets that when I start singing "sisters", that it's actually an X-mas song, since it comes from White Christmas, the movie with Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney (before she got the crazies) *sigh* even I know more stupid x-mas trivia than most.

This is the first day it seems best NOT to have candles on my cake.

As I type this, my youngest is currently typing on his keyboard, not quite copying my movements so much as beating the crap out of the keyboard. Also, he's now learned(from me) that if he says 'UM NOMNOM' in his loudest voice, he will eventually get some type of food. Conditional training. Although whether I'm training him, or whether it's the other way around is uncertain. But nevertheless, learning is being done in this house.


My birthday is today, so I won't type much, but it's early enough that no one else is up yet, so no harm, no foul. I got a wireless keyboard and mouse from eldest, who just couldn't wait any longer, so I got it last night. The A sticks so that any word I've typed with an a in it has had to be corrected, and I can no longer reaach the enter key with my pinky, but they got it so I could hook up the computer to the T.v. and watch movies, especially when they aare both out of the house, and youngest is asleep.

I'm a quarter of a Century old today, and I've been bombarded with requests to go out and party, but since I'm still feeding youngest, it's probably the best excuse not a great idea, and I'm too lazy to pre-make aa days worth of food for my little piglet, so I'm staying home, at least after I get my new tat with my bestest home girlie.

So, bon-voyge, and a verry merry un-birthday to you all!!!!!!!!!!!!

hmm. the 1 button sticks too.

No, I'm sorry, I can't play Pattycake, I'm left handed.

I'm left-handed. Not a big horrible thing, I know, but an imposition no less. I've always had issues with writing, my hand smearing ink and pencil alike, and my words cramped and slanted. But since the Computer got popular in school not too long after I started writing, that was never a Big issue. Even in Grade 4 when my Teacher had lunch-time Calligraphy classes, and she had to spend several hours extra with me because I was the only lefty she had taught other than herself, it was no biggie. It wasn't until I got into baking and cooking that being a leftie started to seem like a horrible thing. You would be amazed the utensils used in cooking that are for the majority, can-openers, pizza cutters, knives, etc. Even when I was stirring, it seemed so much more natural for everyone else than it was for me. I'd try to stir, and my shoulder would go up to my ear, my elbow out, my spoon or spatula getting constantly stuck in some invisible rut that only lefties could feel, while righties were smoothly stirring away, like they were whipping up a cloud. I began to try to do things right-handed, as some of the sports I learned were taught me by a rightie, and so it was easier in some ways, but it was of no use, as I felt like I had cut off some vital limb and was limping through my tasks, watching with tearfull eyes at everyone who glided past. I was teaching a friend to make fudge one time, and even she seemed to note that, while my finished product was amazing, putting it together looked painful. And all the sudden, Writing was important again, and though supremely tasty to clean up, I knew I could never be a cake decorator.
And of course, lefties have been made fun of for forever, from the Internets, to Religions, to bully-kids with nothing better to do( I still have fingers that don't point in the same direction thanks to them), to the Simpsons and South Park alike.
This post, like many others of mine, fails to have a point that I can match up in my brain, since my brain seems to have ADD when making valid points, but I think the gist of this rant was to say that we are all different, we all have things that we do differently. That does not make us bad. Or slow. Or Evil. It just makes us different. And as much as we are all the same, we are all different. So get over it.

Day two, the X-mas Spirit.

My household has always been rather muted during the holly-days, as we're not religious, so have no religious functions to attend, we're rather homey, so have no all-out-drunk fests to go to, and though we try to keep up with the Jones', we don't go through the big trouble of emptying our savings accounts to appease our children and the latest fads, although we don't go all crazy at what others get them. Our children, or at least the oldest one, as our youngest doesn't care about much but pooping, eating, sleeping and attention, knows the value of things, and the value of the hard work it takes to get those things. Of course he's still a bit of an 'I-want-er', as all kids his age are, but he knows better than to freak out his disappointment, he's well on his way to understanding that "Things" aren't important, but people are. That point seems moot in todays society, where you're only as valuable as what you own.  I don't see X-mas as a time to try and best each other with the things we give, nor do I see it as a time to please family members or appease social obligation, I see it as just a chance to get together if you want to, or be alone if you don't, and just relax and enjoy what's been going on the past year. I'm sure I've pissed more than a few people off with my way of thinking, but if I've offended them by not going to their house to praise the labours they've gone through to elevate they're social standings, that's their issue, not mine. Today's society needs to relax around the holiday season, and realize that if they don't get their kid that new x-box, or if they don't go to their neighbour's big dinner, toting praise and bottles of expensive wine, that they are not a failure as a result. That is all. and all-important.

Day One, the explanation.

I've decided to do the Nablopomo challenge again this month, as December's theme is Zeitgeist, or time spirit, meaning writing about the times we live in, and our place in todays culture. Eazy peazy right? we'll see.

Seems I could keep this up for the whole, month, as X-mas is coming up, and I always have loads to say about X-mas.
so here we go!

Disconnected thought stuffs, and longing for a sundae

I would put these into some kind of story for you, but they're all mostly too random to connect, so here ya go.

Pineapple.

-On this next Saturday, I will be 25. One Quarter of a Century. That is all.

My hubby and eldest went shopping on the past weekend for birthday gifts. After an hour of being gone, they called to ask me what I wanted, them both being too self-absorbed to notice my not-so-subtle hints,( 'gee I'd really like an mp3 player for when I go to the gym', 'We should get a proper speatzle maker, maybe for X-mas?') So I repeated the hints, a mite disappointed to have the surprise ruined, the only thing I actually like about birthdays. When they got home, they both pestered me about opening my gifts straight-away, both lacking the patience. I have so far successfully declined, although when I went in my son's room today to get his laundry hamper, his gift was right out in the open. I will pretend to not have noticed, although my disappointment has ceased, since it was none of the things I had told them on the phone.

-My youngest has had a running fever for the past two days, nothing but the fever. Right before the tylenol kicks in  he is somewhat delirious, and the effect makes him very giggly and cuddly at the same time. He laughed at the cat coming into the room for ten minutes. He grasped faces and gave big sloppy kisses on my cheek(something he has just learned) then he puked down my shirt and laughed for another ten minutes. Helped along by daddy, of course. 

-My hubby's schedule has been changed, due to the fact that he is soo badass at his job, they're keeping him in town until after New year's so he can help train others of the relief persuasion. This means that the food bills go up, but my general stress level goes down. 

-Leslie Nielson died this weekend from Pneumonia, or complications thereof. I know a lot of people who will miss him, as he either directly influenced, or was copied by, a lot of the comedic actors I know. He was 84, so I hope he did at least most of what he wanted to do in life. 

-I watch more than my fair share of t.v., since even at the gym they have it blaring in my face, and lately I've gotten obssessed with "Man VS. Food" Which is basically a show about some guy who loves to eat so much he looks constantly on the brink of heart attack, but he visits some of the coolest restaurants in the states, so I can see why. 

The challenge he's doing is called the kitchen sink, which is 2 gallons of ice cream and toppings in a sink. yup. I couldn't find the video I wanted with the perfect sundae, but this one's just as, well, interesting. He does a lotr of challenges, and most of them make me never want to be hungry again, but I always come away craving chicken wings, or a fat and sexy sandwich, or pancakes.

Of Raccoons, Rubber Chickens, and Inflammation of the Exasperation Bone

~And then, with one final expelling of breath, her head exploded into a fine white dust, and the cat sauntered over and proceeded to lap it up like powdered sugar~

Well, not really. But my Fourth Grade teacher always said that to hook a reader into a story you needed to have an outrageous Title, and an equally gripping first line. So there you go. You're welcome.

*WARNING! This post does not contain any of what was just said above. except for the head bursting maybe.*

So After a week and a half of not staying in bed to sleep off a vicious flu, although in retrospect I should have, as it might not have lasted a week and a half if I did, I decided today I was well enough to try the gym again. Well, for more than one reason. Remember how I said I got three months free? well, at the time I had also decided to sign up for a couple of years thinking that if I eventually had to pay for it, that would keep up my motivation for going, as I'm quite a stingy person, and like to get as much out of what I pay for as I can. Well, upon checking my bank the other day, I noticed that the account I use for expenses was 40 dollars overdrawn. Well, it was originally 85 bucks overdrawn, but since there was no money to go through, the payment was retracted and the NSF fees put in. So I called up the gym in a panic, why the hell were they charging me this? And since the girl who had signed me up was unavailable, the half wit at the desk tried politely explaining to me what the payment was for, as if I didn't know. A registration fee, a monthly fee, and a babysitting fee. Even after I tried telling her that since I had the first three months free my sign-ee had waived the registration fees, and, oh yeah, I HaVE THE FIRST THREE MONTHS FREEEEEEE.   She didn't grasp it. So I called back later in the day, when dim-wit stated she'd be in, and when I finally got her on the phone she noted everything down, and said the next time I came in I should come to the front desk and they'll give me a refund on the NSF fees. So I came in today with multiple purposes. Not to mention I get the best showers there, because I don't have a distressed hubby and baby just outside the door asking when I'll be done. Another motivating factor. When I first came in, however, the desk was pretty busy, so I decided to wait until after my 'workout' and relaxing shower. So I came back after I was done, and when I told the front desk about it, lady lack-wit tending me said, 'but there's no payment come through on your file, you have three months free..." *Head smack* When she finally grasped what I was telling her, she said she had to get someone else who knew what she was doing, and That girl had to call head office to bring up the file so she could properly get the paper work straight. I'm not sure what my sign-ee did to prepare the front desk for me, but apparently it wasn't much, if anything at all. So while girl #2 was on the phone, I went to get baby from the gym sitter's as they were closing for lunch. My youngest has developed a healthy hatred for his car seat unless he's in a moving vehicle, so I had a cranky kid on my hands while girl two was on the phone. When she got off the phone, she told me that I needed to bring in a bank statement to verify what had happened in the account, since head office didn't have a record of giving me an NSF fee, that it might not have shown up on their records yet, but I could call the bank right now and have them fax a statement to them. By this time youngest was putting up a big stink and since the front desk is in the open area with the gym, plenty of people were looking to see who was choking the baby, and I was steadily getting redder in the face at the whole situation, and at seeing the sorry look on the poor girl who basically told me my wait was for nothing, I cracked a little and stomped out the door, barreling into a construction worker who tried to hold a door open for me when I would have none of their courtesy, and slightly banging the outside door, though in more of a 'whoops didn't realize it was that easy to open while holding a gym bag and a car seat', rather than in a show of anger. Of course Scream-y McGee shut up and passed out as soon as the car was on and I had backed out of the parking lot, and then I started to feel guilty, not about the situation as a whole, but about little things. I wanted to apologize to the construction worker who had so politely opened a door and was snubbed; I wanted to apologize to the door.  Frustration does not become me. So I went home and smoked three cigs in a row, and wrote this to get it out of my head, and now here I am. Not sure if I want to show myself in that gym for a while, but seeing as how I also don't want a stupid charge that somehow doesn't exist on one end on my end as well, I guess I'll have to go back. sheesh.

Look Ma! I's a picture artistical! *Wordless wednesdays #5

The Finding of the Feet

Really ma? New sheets?

Gangsta Baby

The Conversationalist

My two

Bedtime

Not endorsing it, but it did work..... against my will...

Since I started going to the gym, I have seen definite improvements in areas. Such as my two sets of butt cheeks have grown into each other to yet again become one set. My thighs no longer make a loud cricket noise when I walk. You can barely tell there's any noise at all. And when I do the Arm Dance? The motion no longer continues when I stop flapping.  But let me put the numbers up to you anyway. With the Gym? No pounds lost yet, as all my fats and their little fat children are being converted to muscles, and apparently muscle weighs slightly more than fat. or the same. I dunno. Having the Stomach Flu this past weekend, that left me in more pain than a day at the gym has ever done, ever? 12 pounds. yup, 12 pounds of whatever I was eating, would eat, and did eat was forcibly shed from me. Funny.

Gym'n it!

So On Monday, I went to the gym. I know, A little late to be talking about it, but whatever. I went to the women's section, cuz on Mondays the regular section is Filled with big Muscular Boys, and girls with tiny waists, and the ability to run marathons, and frankly it's like being an In-valid on Gattaca, and so I go to the women's section with all the other old biddies, which is actually more depressing, because then I follow around 70 year old grandmas who could ALL kick my ass.
Anyways, I went on my aunt's favorite machine, the Road that goes Nowhere, or the Deathmill to Hell. I went on for a staggering 30 minutes, on a rising incline throughout, slowly turning a lovely shade of Pomegranate. Twice the employee who watches over the women's section to make sure none of us old biddies keel over, came by to ask how I was doing. If I was anywhere near capable of speech at the time, I would have told her that turning funny colours is sort of a family past-time when it comes to exercising, My aunt turning a pretty Poinsettia, my day almost a rusty beet. But I was trying to concentrate on panting evenly, so I just nodded and smiled while looking ahead, half-afraid that if I turned to look at her, my body would follow my head, as I was no longer able to move my body parts separately, and that could be Catastrophic to me. I'm clumsy enough as it is.

My deathmill faced a window at least, so I could imagine I was running on real ground, impervious to the biting cold, rain, and uber-slippery sidewalk. Of course, since I was staring at the crappy day instead of the mirrors on my backside, I didn't notice the little booger that was peeking out at every exhale like a ghostly jack-in-the-box waayyy too late for halloween. Thank goodness when the trainer came around the third time to see how my self-inflicted Cardiac Arrest was coming along, she got distracted by my peek-a-boo booger, and instead of telling my to get off before I fall off, she made nervous eyes at my nose, and made wiping motions. My intuitive self thought she looked about to sneeze, so I politely averted my eyes until she passed me a kleenex. I decided that it was about time to do something else, so I wandered around until I noticed the backwards ab machine that looks like this:

See the ones where his bum is in the air? That's what I decided to do. One set of 10. by the fifth time up I had to fart something fierce, and I thought I could get away with it if I let it out slowly the next time up. But while I was upside down formulating my plan of action, I was oblivious to the fact that the trainer had let two contractor guys in to look at a ceiling crack directly above my bum.

Needless to say the workout was over pretty much instantly. Though, all in all, it was one of my better workouts....

Wordless Wednesdays #4. Laugh Riot

The First real Giggling we've seen so far, and he only does it for daddy. But to make me feel better, hubby looks re-donkulous, and will probably take more than a bit of flak for this, so it's all good.





btw, this was the one I couldn't download directly because google doesn't like high-def video. Take THAT GOOGLE!!! Hah!!!

A really, really bad apology, that doesn't really apologize in any way...

I know. I haven't written in a while. Lemme explain.

On Wednesday I tried to post a video of my youngest and hubby giggling like little school girls, but apparently it had not been filmed in the right definition, and I'm not techie smart in any way, so I don't know if you can even change that, and it kinda made me really mad, and random thing throw-y, and I ended up smacking myself in the head with a surprisingly resilient eraser, so I gave up.

Hubby came home from his first of four weeks out in Lloydminster on Thursday. Hence House had to be spotless to show him that indeed I was right, he was the main cause of all the mess in the house.

Friday was hubby's birthday, and so we did hubby birthday things, which strangely always includes shopping, which he always says he hates, but seems to take great pleasure in on his birthday.

Saturday I'm sure I had some excuse, but I don't remember it, so just remember I had some excuse, and it was probably awesome, and would have made you forgive everything I ever did, like that time I accidentally dropped your fish down the toilet, but I couldn't get him out with out sticking my hand in the toilet, and that's just gross, so I flushed him so he could be with fishy friends back in the river. No one wants a lonely toilet fish. But I digress.

Sunday was the football game. Well, actually, it was several football games, all day long, with some hockey thrown in just to be funny, but somewhere in the mash of sport viewing was the game that was actually meant to be watched.

And then yesterday, I got a really good post together, and then forgot about it, so now you're probably not going to see it until Thursday, which is okay, because I plan to add to it.

So there. I explained. And I actually don't give two, or even three shits what you think anyways, so this was basically an exercise in futility.

And I just found out that my name means blowjob on Urban dictionary.com. That's not Funny Urban dictionary!!
Can you sue a public forum website?

*sigh* Boys. surrounded by boys...

So, My Eldest went to our Local History Museum, The Western Development Museum, on a field trip with his class to learn about how school worked in the 'olden days'. They learned how the boys and girls had different doors they went in and out of, how punishments worked, and how houses were made and how long it took to make them. They Learned about hard work, and the long days they endured. And what my son got out of this?
Direct Quote.
" There was this outhouse! it was just a hole in the ground! and they didn't even have toilet paper! They just had to shake their bums to get the poo off or something. I wouldn't like living there, because it would get too smelly with poo on everyone."

Fantastic.

Whoever Thought up Daylight Savings time, needs to be Bitch Slapped

Fuck you World.
Indeed.
How is it that all the new fucking alarm clocks all have this DST thing built into them, and they don't have a setting for those of us in the world that don't participate in it?
Bugger all.

Anyways.
So Hubby is gone for Three weeks, to LLoydminster to relieve some co-workers and get into the good points bin with the bosses. He's also been sick all weekend, with a bad stomach flu virus, and after grumping and groaning all of Saturday, he thought the worst had passed on Sunday, you know that fleeting feeling that all is right with the world and you are SUperman... By lunch on Sunday, he was back in bed, after graciously harfing hotdogs all over me. It's a good thing I already hate hotdogs, or this would've put me off... Then, This Morning, all of our alarm clocks failed to go off,since they thought it was an hour earlier, which wasn't a big deal since we were up at 5 am anyway, but since our time doesn't change, and also that Lloydminster sits on the borderline, they DO fall an hour behind, so Hubby had some time to kill before heading off today. So he I finished his packing, and he laid on the couch and shivered, and did his inner turmoil dance on how he Should go, but didn't want to cuz he felt like crap on a bun, blah, blah, blah. And then he went. And I am free to keep a clean house for almost a MONTH!!!!!!
Of course, he'll be home on the weekends, so I'll have things to do on Monday, but still. Plus, money! so, yay!

I want pancakes.  So I going to make them. with bananas. yum. And then possibly take a nap, because as I was reading this post back to myself I realized that it doesn't make sense, but I can't possibly make it any better right now, so sleep will be necessary to fix the glitch in my brain that seems to be happening.

It's Sunday, Right? Kay...

As a tribute to Sundays, and the laziness that ensues, at least with the other members of my family, Here is a lazy post. Done entirely in Youtube!


I would've like to see this with the Police, since I can never understand what they're saying, but it's just as well. Plus, poo.





Take that Historians! For all you know, you don't know shit!





yes. I see. shun you say?





Did anyone else know that Kermit is Multilingual?






And Finally, Not having to do with Music at all, or poo, Here ya go.

I reeally, really, suck.... Flag Football 2010

And continuing on with the Suckiness which is my procrastination, Here are the videos from Eldest's and Hubby's Last Flag Football Game. If I was more coordinated, and knew what I was doing, these would've been pieced together into one, but as i am a technology noob in every sense of the word, they are not. Not sure how much more work I saved in the long run though...

Running Catches before the game.

In the opening huddle.

Eldest throwing the ball to the Quarterback, No clue what the position is. (Marvel at my magnificent Camera-work)

It's always a battle to see who gets the flag.

Coach doing what he do best. Eldest as Quarterback.

Kay, I would have more of the actual Game, but at this point the  other team had tackled our guys three times(which is punishable by severe penalty or benching. it's flag football people) two of which resulted in bloody noses and one with a nasty knee bruise for our kids, and after the second one hubby-Coach let other Coach know that his kids needed to stop tackling or they would stop the game. The other Coach laughed in his face and kept encouraging his kids to tackle. Hubby-Coach called half-time right after the third hit, and once again warned the Coach that the Kid sport crew and the Community association  would definitely hear about his behaviour. The other coach called the game, saying that if they couldn't hit, it wasn't football. Hubby-Coach then asked for a handshake from the teams, out of good manners, and then gave his team a congratulatory, and easily over-heard speech on how good  they were for obeying the rules, and didn't hurt anyone, even though they might have wanted to.

Then:

Clean up time, since game was over. If you look really hard, you can see other team doing their own game by themselves, complete withe kids tackling still.(also you can tell which kid is mine, since he stops everything just to pose for the camera.)
The Parents of our kids were mighty impressed by the way things were handled by our team, and in fact encouraged hubby to come back next year to Coach. The kids did too.
Here is the result

 And there, in a nutshell and really long post, is the last game of Flag Football.
And then we went to walmart. But that's not really part of the story...

Wow, I suck at this... Halloween 2010

So, I'm really bad at keeping up with myself apparently.
Without further ado and such, here is Halloween.

KaPOW!!!

Wideshot, KAPOWW!!!!

 Youngest absolutely fucking enthralled by Iron Man.

Also, Slightly frightened. Eldest ended up having to take off the mask.

Suddenly, Skunks!

Skunks who need to bounce!

And then, Iron Mommy. Iron Maiden? meh. Since the mask was a little snug, My Giant Face pushed it out at weird angles and made me look like Iron Down-Syndrome. Drunk-style. oh yeah....

Can you smell that? it's fear...

Once again, I am appalled by the school system. I wonder if my parents ever had this much trouble with my school.  sheeesh...

So yesterday My eldest brings home a note from the principals, stating that the school had practised a 'General Lockdown". Here. I'm going to type it verbatim, because I feel it's necessary, so the message can be heard.

" On Wednesday, November 03, 2010, Bappity-bap School practiced a "General Lockdown" of the school.
A general lockdown means all students remain in their classroom with the door locked and the lights turned out. Students move out of sight of windows and doors. 
The general lockdown was practiced so that staff and students are prepared in the event we have to institute a lockdown procedure. The City Police were involved in this practice and gave students and staff meaningful advice on to how to conduct ourselves and make our practices better. 
We are very proud of our students who listened closely to our directions. 
If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call.
Sincerely,
New principal (who's about to get ousted by PTA.)"


Soooo........

This is terrifying. Sad. There is a whole schwack of emotions still roiling down right now. I'm not sure when our school system decided that instilling fear in elementary students was the best plan for safety, and right now in my head is a picture of kindergarten students playing hide-n-go-seek, because that was the only way the teacher could get everyone's attention.  I especially like the part where they DON'T TELL US WHY THEY'RE DOING IT!!!! No reason whatsoever. What event would constitute a lockdown procedure? what? WHAT DO YOU KNOW TEACHERS????? fuck me. I don't ever remember having to do shit like this. ever.

This whole 'exercise' reminds me of the bomb raids of old , where they taught school children, not to mention everyone else, to hide under their desks with their hands over their ears. You know, I used to volunteer at an elderly home, and there was one gent there that couldn't even have an alarm clock within 3 rooms of his, the p.a. system had to be unhooked in his room, you couldn't even blow a whistle. Perpetually afraid of the Bomb sirens. He probably died afraid.

My point being is how dare they instill fear in my child in a place of learning? In one of the only places he's excited to go to right now, that he feels most trusting in?  And shouldn't it be my child's choice on whether or not to be afraid? the letter cleverly masks what he should be afraid of.  Shouldn't it have been a choice as to whether or not he even participated? And why were the parents informed only after the fact? This wasn't even mentioned in the School Newsletter.

We're not backward rednecks here, and this is not an issue of Conspiracy Theory. This is  Canada, and we should not be afraid. Just let's look at it. Would anyone want to see their child doing this?

So yeah. You can bet I'm going to be asking a LOT of questions to this new Principal, and I'll go as high as I need to get answers.
Fuck.
Unacceptable.

The attack of the 50 foot PEANUT!!!!!

My son goes to what's called a 'nut-free' school. Not by my choice, it's just happens to be the public school in our area. I received a phone call message today from the principal, reminding all students, and parents of, that even though candy is still unfortunately permitted in the school, any candy containing nuts will be confiscated, and letter will go out to the parent of the child as a warning.
Well. I have a few bones that need picking with this whole "Shelter our kids from their allergies' thing.
In what way are we possibly protecting our children in a nut free school? In my opinion, everyone is just screwing these kids over. How about this- We teach them about their allergy, and how to use an epi-pen?
Cuz okay, you're catering to these kids in school, but what happens on Halloween? Or when they have a sleepover? Or when they go to a grocery store? or mall? if their allergy is so severe that they can't be breathed on with peanut butter mouth, or touch something that someone else who ate Nutella touched without becoming seriously ill, they need to be the ones prepared for it. We Can't cushion these children into believing everyone will bend to their whim, cuz they won't. And I don't see Wal-mart, or Safe-way advertising the fact that they'll be nut free anytime soon. So please people, stop punishing the rest of the world for this shite, and instead grow a little knowledge on the people forced to deal everyday with these allergies.
Now, don't get me wrong, I've a number of friends with nut allergies ranging from mild to severe, most who've tried total isolation from all things nut, or have tried exposure therapy, both with mixed results. My best friend in elementary school was so allergic to peanuts, that her mother wiped down every package that came from the grocery store, had anyone wash their hands if they were coming in the house, and since she was a nurse, had plenty of epinephrine in the fridge, since this was before epi-pens were cool. My friend would need it at least once a week, sometimes more, depending on what she was around. But My friend learned about how to help herself, refused when her mom suggested homeschooling, and played with us neighbourhood kids anyway, with her little fanny-pack filled with the tools for resuscitation if necessary. Plus she's now a nurse herself, who helps conduct an allergy clinic to teach kids what she knows.

I guess I'm just trying to say don't shelter your kids so much, or you'll end up screwing them over. And don't think that your kid is more important than everyone else's. again, they're not. Teaching our kids to think that they're special, yay what ever. But remember, that when everyone's special, special ceases to be.

Homebound Mothers, part 2

So went to the gym yesterday. Had a plan in mind, went on the treadmill for 15 minutes of brisk walking, with a bit of jogging thrown in when I felt the walking was too slow. Then I did what's called a circuit route, which is 9 cleverly masked torture machines lined up, which you follow by number, each tearing apart a different set of muscles.

I followed a 70 year old she-hulk on this route, each time shamefacedly lowering the weights by half on whatever device she had finished with. I was amassing sweat in large quantities at each station, not to mention my lovely sickness had me hacking up a storm, so that I had a large clearance from the other women in the gym, so they would not catch my plague.

By the time I was done the circuit, I had caught a second wind, so I decided to finish it up with 15 minutes on the elliptical thingy. there was a nicely toned youngster next to me going what seemed a decent pace, and you know that thing that makes us fall into a pattern, like when there's four of you eating at a table, and somehow you all end up chewing at the same time to some silent beat? yeah, that thing. well, somehow I ended up keeping pace with her.

For about 2 minutes.

Then I almost had an asthma attack.

After my self torture, I went back and had a nice hot shower au gratis in the changing room.While in there, i decided that this is how I will make my self keep going to the gym, I will cut myself off from taking showers or baths at home, and only take them at the gym, so that I have to go, just so I don't get overly stinky. Plus I'll be saving like 3 dollars on my water bill. bonus!

Then I got home, and proud off my self for actually taking advantage of this, I decided to keep up my little healthy trend, and had some yogurt and berries, and a roast beef sandwich on rye. yay me!

Today, I cannot move. seriously. I can't even move my fingers, so I'm dictating this to my 6 yr old.
No, not really, but that's a good idea, and I wish I had thought of it sooner. ouch. Right now, even my baby's crawling faster than me, and he doesn't even crawl yet!

side note: really only pay attention to the first 40 seconds of this video. I'm not educated on my new video edit  program, so after 40 seconds, it just turns into whiny baby, and bad language.

The Homebound mother

HaHa!!!
My homebound life is paying off!!
Remember when I went to that Ladies Convention, and signed my name up to a whole bunch of shit? Well, I got a call from a beauty products line saying I've won  a free pass to another Ladies night, Called Wine, Women, Spa, and Chocolate. The night is basically open bar with trays full of mini-foodstuffs, silent auction, product sampling, and a CHOCOLATE INDULGENCE BUFFET!!!!! *drool*

And THEN, I got a  call from A fitness center here, saying I won 3 months free at their gym, complete with free babysitting by qualified people even! Bonus!

And even though I still feel like someone's trying to take a rancid turdle on me, I'm soooo going to the gym today, and my free ass is going to try not to snot on all the machines, for free. 
Oh,yeah....

Bored, so here!

So bored. Nothing to do, it's kinda icky outside, snowy, slippery, and cold, like -15 degrees cold, (I know, I'm a chicken-shite) so baby and me are staying inside where I have control of the heat. Toasty. I've also been sick the past week, so I have no intentions of leaving this house anytime soon, which limits the things we can do.

Speaking of poo,
Baby has started eating Real People Food, apples, naners and the like, and if you've had kids before, you know what I'm talking about, but if you are child-free, let me tell you that poo from babies that have just started People food, are nasty. Doesn't happen as often as before, but it's like he's packing enough stench to more than make up for it. It's like changing a little Person. No longer do I get to look forward to the poo that looks like it came from a baby-be-mine dolly, but a real turd worthy of Daddy's gags. Nasty stuff, that.
Anyways...

And Now for something Completely Different:



Angry Raspberries!

Wordless Wednesdays #3, or, the Cog

The Cat that has been raised by the dog, and is now, with his borrowed mannerisms, a Cog. 

Random thingers. Again

It snowed last night. and continues to snow this morning. I'm hoping we don't get the alarming 5 inches slated for the north part of the province, but I wouldn't be surprised. Snow is abundant in the winter here. As is cold weather. My friend used to tease me that My good ol' Norse ancestors moved to Saskatchewan specifically for the cold, so it would feel like home to them. Also, that I was pasty and couldn't tan for shit because I had come from Saskatchewan. She was probably right on both parts. Saskatchewan is the one of very few places in the World that can range anywhere from -60 degrees Celsius(with wind chill) and Snow drifts waist high in winter, to +45 in the summer with miles and miles of Sun. Because Saskabusch is Flat, and the wind bends the trees, so there's no cover. Which is partly true, but every myth has to have some semblance of truth in it.

On a sort of related note, When it comes to first snow and all that jazz, I am totally a sucker for my memories. The smell of fresh-baked cookies, wet coats and mittens, fireplace fire, etc, but the one that really stands out is the smell of Hot toddy.
Being one of the Trendiest people of my time, I am always the first one to get sick when winter arrives, and I  remember one specific elementary school year when I was 7 or 8, and both my sister and I caught the flu at the same time. I always remember my dad staying home with us when we were sick, giving us hot lemon water and such, but this one time he wanted to nip the colds we had in the bud, so he tried Grandma's Recipe for curing the ill. A Hot toddy. Now, A Hot toddy is basically a hot lemon-honey tea, but with the added benefit of rum or whiskey. I believe we had the whiskey version. So he made up a batch for both me and my sister, reminiscing to us about how his Grandma used to use this as a cure-all, or something. I don't remember that well people, I was sick!!.
Anyways, I don't remember which one of us started puking first, but one of us caught the other, and it started a chain of puking that lasted quite some time(although to my ill-induced mind, I could be exaggerating- I see it as a cartoon version much like the WB cartoon with the two pigs see-sawing a handcar, but with puke).

yeah, but with the guys harfing when they go down. pretty picture, I know..

Anyway, I'm sure we totally grossed out my dad, but in the end it did us little to no harm, and my dad learned a very important lesson. And as my husband makes this after he eventually catches my colds, I cringe a little inside. To this day I cannot drink whiskey in any form, unless I try really, really, Really hard. *shudder*

And now for something Completely different-

My eldest son is obsessed with poop. Or at least the word poop. He's 6, so I'm not really surprised when he starts singing 'Mary had a little poop', or 'This old man, he had poop', but also with his extreme science knowledge,as he can now berate my husband about their head-farting contests,(charming, I know) letting him in on just how one gets pink-eye and the like. *sigh* My house is a never ending battlefield with new horrors every day. I would have my youngest stay small forever, so I don't have to endure three half-grown males all at once.

Big Boy's night in

My Husband and I have come up with a plan, that every couple of weekends one of us gets either an In night, or an Out night, on a rotational basis of course. Well Let me tell you about a little thing called the Evening's best intentions.
It was my Hubby's turn last night, and he got a couple of guys together for an In night, (football/hockey/videogame hockey was on) so him and said buddies went shopping like little girls for sports food, booze, and other such things. They came home with smelly cigars, tonnes of finger food, and a bottle of rye with pop for mix. When they arrived back at the domain, they huffled and gloated on how, 'This is going to be awe-some, man', and how they bought enough stuff to last them through the 7+ hour marathon of sports and pigging out that was to happen at a steadily drunkened pace. This is the Evening's Best Intentions.

Reality? They each poured a little too heftily in their glasses, so that by two glasses in, they were waayy ahead of the game. They pigged out on the finger foods, so that 10 minutes into the game, they were all stuffed to the brim. They lasted roughly an hour and a half before the first of them succumbed to slumber, and by the end of the football game, all were not-so-silently snoring into their respective chests.

My turn comes Nov. 13th, with a whole bunch of us ladies making a big Mexican Feast, with nary a drop of the good stuff to be found, as most of us have babies, and the others are 'dieting'. I wonder what our Evening's Best Intentions will amount to. lol

Attention all you doomsdayers!!!!

Listen up!

There's new evidence saying that the Constant they used for Calculating and mapping out the Mayan Calendar is probably Wrong. See? Take that, Crazy buschwackers who refuse to let their children have friends because "The world's gonna end in 2 years anyways" (as seen in Wife Swap) Those who are fans of Science, know that the current theory isn't necessarily right, it just hasn't been disproved yet.