Another wonderful morning

Last night my neighbours had an open house and it was a ball. Scott and Elliott came late and left early because of hockey last night and early this morning. They are still out. The Bell Capital Cup is a big deal around here right now. Anyway, Henry, Audrey and I stayed out until midnight and Audrey is still sleeping at 11:00. So it's just me and my Henry hanging out. I've got the Smiths moaning on in the background (thanks Chris), the sun is brightly shining and my belly is full of egg nog and cinnamon roll. Perfect.

Henry is now bugging me incessantly about playing on miniclip and my bathroom is starting to smell like one in a European bus station so I'm making this a short one. Having only one goal a day is a pretty good way to accomplish everything you need to do. I swear, I can't wait to retire. This is the life...

kxx


Currently listening:The Very Best of the SmithsBy The SmithsRelease date: 07 June, 2001

This is a test

And the only question is: Does Scott ever read my blogs? Because if he does, this one will start an argument.

Scott is one of my biggest boosters. My loudest cheerleader. He's the one who encouraged me to start writing in the first place. Thing is, he's often bored by things he reads. Unless he's doing research for realistic plastic airplane models or reading true-life stories about WWII flying aces, he's just not that interested. And reading the blog of a marginally interesting suburban wife that he speaks to every single day and sleeps with every single night is way beyond his scope. Even I'm, in fact, surprised that I actually have 13 subscribers (welcome to the family, Cherise!). So, let's face it, people. Call a spade a spade (pun intended) I'm no Erma Bombeck. Even I can admit, though, that I may have the occasional moment of bloggy brilliance but that expression about the 10,000 monkeys and 10,000 typewriters comes to mind. Which brings me back to my original question. Does my biggest fan, the love of my life, my inspiration read this blog? The next sentence will expose him.

I have my own bank account. Nothing big, in fact it never has more than $200 in it. But it's my money to do with as I please. I never buy things for the house with it. I never buy things for the kids with it, I never even buy things for Scott with it. For all those things I use our joint account. This is for the occasional cute top, Payless shoe or sparkly handbag. Fun, useless things that I'd feel embarrassed to admit to Scott.

Now, don't get me wrong. Scott has never, ever denied me anything. He has never once told me I couldn't buy something I wanted. Except for the occasional eye-roll, he's never made a comment on even one of my impulse buys. Even when I wasn't working and we were scraping, he's been totally cool with the way I spend. It's just that if I see an orange purse or funky lipstick I want to buy them without having to explain why. Not that I have to but I feel like I do. Clear as mud, right? I'm not the Enron guy or anything. Geez. Oh, and how do I collect this money you ask? When Scott comes home, he empties his change into a container. I later sift through said container and commandeer all the loonies and toonies. You guys should try this. You sure can save a lot in a few months. Take it from someone who knows.

Now to await the fallout. To be honest I don't think there will be any because the man doesn't read my blog. I'll let you know what happens. And please, for the love of God, don't tell him about either this blog or the account. I'd really prefer to out myself on this one. Thanks, all!

kxx

Happy Birthday Henry!

What can I say? It's my baby Henry's 7th birthday today. He's the kid that's the most funny, expressive and dramatic of them all. Every single day this kid cracks me up. I'll refer you to the "Captain Underpants" photo I previously posted. That's him all over.

Out of all the kids he most looks like me (a dimple!), and his out-there personality is most like mine. Am I a horrible mother to admit that he's my fave? I know I'm not supposed to have one and of course I love them all in different ways but how can someone as self involved as I am not be completely enamoured of someone who reminds me so completely of myself?

Anyway, this is his special day and it's tough keeping it special because it's so close to Christmas. We're actually having the party today but in the evening in case parents have to work. I'm all partied out so we're having a "playdate" party so I don't have to obsess about themes and games. The kids will just come over and play for a couple of hours. It's from 5-7 so we're ordering pizza for dinner. Perfect.

Oh, I haven't told you about the birthday tree. Yesterday I took all the "Christmas-y" decorations off the tree and stuck birthday things in it. Balloons, streamers, party hats, and a birthday banner. Looks cool. And for the lootbags, they're in little holiday boxes. Hopefully it'll be a painless party. Wish me luck! You know how kids' birthday parties can get...

kxx

Ahhhh Boxing Day

I feel truly sorry for those who don't get to experience the joy that is Boxing Day. Here in Canada the only people working are those in the retail industry. And even then, only giant greedy stores are open. Every single other type of establishment is legally shut down for another day.

The history of Boxing Day? I have no clue. And apparently there are lots of people who disagree about it. Thay can argue all they want. All I know is I get yet another day off with the family.
I've been a busy little beaver, though. I've baked Henry's birthday cake (but have yet to decorate it), decorated the famous birthday tree and the room for the party tomorrow afternoon. Soon we'll be heading out to visit Scott's aunt Audrey (yes, we named our girl after her) and when that's done, I'll wrap presents and prepare the loot bags for the festivities tomorrow. It's a pretty full day so I'd better get on with it. Have a great one yourselves and I hope you aren't actually working on Boxing Day.

kxx

Happy Monday!

Hope everyone has a terrific Monday morning and isn't working too hard.

What's that kids? It's not a normal Monday? Eh? Christmas? Cool! I'm going back to bed.

And if what the children are saying is in fact true, Have yourselves a merry little Christmas. Looks like I have a turkey to cook...

kxx

Brains are cool

Scott and I were driving by the local multiplex the other day and I looked up at the marquis. I saw the movie Happy Feet and made that quiet laugh through the nose. You know the one. It sounds like a sharp exhale.

So Scott says "What?" and I'm forced to admit the little chain of events that my brain took me on between seeing the words Happy Feet and the laugh. I love when the brain does this. in the space of... well snap your fingers. I'll wait (I love that you did that just because I asked you to). In the space of that sound, your mind goes through a ton of thoughts. Very cool.

So here was my chain of thought:
1) I looked up and saw the movie title
2) I remembered telling Audrey we'd see it in the theatre over the Xmas holiday
3) I thought that since we're not travelling to see family this year, that maybe after the chaos that is Xmas morning, that we could go to the movie that day
4) Seeing a movie on Xmas Day (something I've never done) reminds me of the SNL short film "Christmastime for the Jews"
5) Here is where I made the laughy sound
6) I remembered that I set the vcr to tape David Letterman tonight because Darlene Love, the singer of the tune has Scott absolutely enthralled with her voice and I thought it would be a nice treat to see her perform in less Claymation form

Isn't the brain a neat thing? All that in the space of about a second. So nice to see that Alzheimer's hasn't set in yet. I only wish my brain would engage like that when I'm standing at the checkout counter talking to someone who knows me and my family intimately and I'm frantically trying to remember her name and where I know her from. Grrr.

kxx

I'm finally finished!

My Xmas shopping is finally done thanks to a final Mall run with my good friend and shopping buddy Lisa. This sounds bad but I honestly think this is the earliest I've ever been done. Now if I can get the wrapping finished before the horrible wrapping train wreck that is Xmas Eve...

For some reason I always hear the song Carol Of the Bells when my shopping is done. Usually the traditional version. Yesterday a friend posted a version by chickens that made me laugh out loud. It also made me think of the Burger King version that made me giggle last Christmas. Then I started wandering around YouTube. Always trouble.

Anyway, I hope you hear Carol Of the Bells soon yourself, if you haven't already. There's only 3 shopping days left. Hop to it...

kxx

What a bad sister I am

The 3rd of December was my baby brother's birthday and I let it go by without immortalising him. How terrible is that? I did call him, though so at least I'm not the worst sister in the world.
So today is all about Mikey. Well, actually Errol Jr., but he'll always be Mikey to me. Let it be known that he's my favourite brother. No matter that he's my only brother. He's my fave. He is so cool and so fun and so funny... I think the sun rises and shines out of his big black butt.
My parents told me that when they brought him home from the hospital I was so jealous that I poured a glass of water on him in his crib. I think that was the last time I felt that way about him. He's always been there for me. When we were teens we'd talk about moving out of our parents' house together to a cool apartment in Old Montréal. It didn't happen but I often wish it had.

When Mike got drunk for the first time it was with me and my friends. We have lots of great drunk stories but there's no way I'm sharing them today. Suffice it to say that he passed out. Often. Oh, and then there was the time he was actually the soberest person who could drive. So this high school kid drove a car full of drunken college kids home with only his learners permit in hand. Did we ever thank you for that one Mikey?

Fast forward to my wedding. When looking for my maid-of-honour I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to stand beside me more than my brother. So by cleverly changing the title to MAN-of-honour, I managed to manoever him into the role. He wasn't too happy about having to hold my bouquet during the ceremony but it was too late. Sucker.

So now he lives with his love, the beautiful new nurse Lisa, and her son just outside Montréal. But soon they're moving closer to Québec City. Which means farther away from me. I know they'll be happy there but since the world revolves around me, I'm broken-hearted about the whole thing. I only see him a couple of times a year as it is. And now it'll be practically impossible to get together. At least there's email, phone and this here blog.

So Happy (belated) Birthday, baby brother. Hope everything goes well in your life and I pray to see you at least once more before you go. You'll be at daddy's for Christmas, right? You better be or I'll tell him all about the time you...

kxx

Punchbuggy!

After the excitement that was this weekend, I'm all tapped out for blog ideas. So I'm going to ramble on for a bit.

On the drive home today I noticed a vw beetle on the road. I promptly hauled off and punched Scott in the shoulder gleefully shouting "PUNCHBUGGY GREY, NO PUNCHBACKS!" It made me wonder where this punching thing started. Who was the first person that did it? Why? Did they get punched back? Is that why there's the codicil? What's the original punchbuggy anyway? An actual buggy? Why don't other cars make people abuse each other? Who is responsibile for the carrying-on that goes on in my car on long car trips (besides me who taught it to them and encourages the blows)?

Questions for the ages. I'm going to google it right now. There's nothing like a bit of purposeful internet searching rather than the aimless wandering I tend to do on a daily basis. If I come up with anything interesting, I'll post it here. See you later and keep your eyes peeled for volksies. Because I come out swinging. Hard.

kxx

PS: Just found this website with the rules of punchbuggy! Too funny.

What an eye-opening weekend

It started with Scott getting so blotto at his work Christmas party on Friday night that he could barely stand up straight. It's quite the eye-opener to have to undress your soulmate and put him to bed like a toddler. Yup. That's the word. Eye-opening. I'm grateful he didn't pee himself or vomit, anyway. He just mentioned that he loves me. Many many times.

Needless to say that the next morning he was in no condition to take Elliott to his 6:30 hockey game. That's AM, people. When the alarm rang at 5:15 he was still drunk and muttering to himself. So I broke my cardinal rule of never ever sitting in a cold arena before 8am and took my son to his game.

Another eye-opening moment for me. I managed to make sure my boy was dressed all the way from his cup and neck protector (who knew?) in that stinky mildewy, boy-sweaty room. Then I sat at the freezing rink and did what I do best... chit chat with anyone within range and scream my lungs out the 2 times my boy got shots on goal. His team won that morning 6-4. It was actually fun. I may do it again minus the crack-of-dawn thing and the pungent locker room thing. After attending about 3 games in Elliott's entire hockey career, that sure is another eye-opener.

Sunday (after Scott had properly recovered) we took the kids to see Santa. My third eye-opening experience of the weekend. I should have known that it would take almost 2 hours. As usual I made friends with everyone in line while waiting. I feel really sorry for shy people. How do they make the time go by quickly in boring situations? Anyway, we waited patiently and snacked on pop, lifesavers and Bugles to keep our strength up. When we finally saw the big guy I was a bit disappointed that it wasn't the guy with the real beard but he made up for it by having a British accent (it forgives most sins with me and I guess that makes him Father Christmas) and chatting with the kids almost 10 minutes. No wonder the line was so bloody long.

All in all it was an interesting (eye-opening?) weekend. But to be honest, I can do with my weekends being a little less interesting. I like a bit of couch surfing and inappropriate pyjama donning. Just call me a lazy girl. Unfortunately we won't have a weekend like that for the next few weeks. But hey, it's the holidays. I'll slob out properly in 2007.

kxx

Clay Aiken is my new boyfriend

Okay, not really but apparently that's what my traitorous brain decided the night before last. I dreamt that Clay and I were smitten with each other. Quite a feat since I'm happily married and he's quite obviously gay. I think he's the only one who doesn't know it yet. To coin a phrase, "not that there's anything wrong with that".

Before the other night, Clay never once crossed my mind other than as a pop culture footnote. I didn't watch his season of American Idol, I'm not interested in his kind of music and always thought he looked like a squinty rodent. Maybe some variety of vole. I swear I never ever gave him a second thought. He's never even occupied more than a stray thought in my mind other than how much I hate his hair. But nevertheless, last night he was my boyfriend. Brains are weird.

I was walking through an arena where he was setting up for a concert and saw him standing nearby. Don't ask why I was there, it was a dream, dammit. As a pop culture vulture, I went over, tapped him on the shoulder and told him I just wanted to say hi. This is the only thing in the dream I actually would have done in real life. Except for being at Clay's concert venue in the first place but we've been over that.

Anyway, as soon as we saw each other we clasped hands and walked around together, talking, laughing and gazing into each others' eyes. Those tiny, rodentine eyes. BRRRR...

At one point I jumped on his back and he gave me a piggyback ride through the arena. That's when I spied my neighbour Norah dozing sitting up in a chair, wearing her trademark blue coat and earflap hat. Why she's wearing winter wear indoors is a question only Freud could answer. I wake her up and introduce her to my new boyfriend and she's shocked but trying not to show it. The 3 of us walk around together, Norah all the while making wild gestures to me behind Clay's back trying to figure out what the eff is going on. Damned if I knew, sleeping or awake.

I finally woke up all confused. Where did all that come from? Why gay Clay? Why the piggyback? Why Norah? In clothes that we haven't even had to wear outside yet due to the mild winter we're having? And did you notice we never kissed. If we did I think it would have been classified as a nightmare.

At least it was an interesting dream. Much more so than running around looking for my keys like I usually dream. I really need analysis.

kxx(Oh, and Chris, I have a gorgeous little mp3 on the other side of that Future Shop receipt. An mp3 that can't be used with the Windows2000 OS I have on my computer. But that's a whole 'nother blog full of bitterness and bile. I'll wait until I'm PMSing for that one)

Poof

That was the sound of my computer hard drive going south this morning. Scott finally managed to get it fixed but it's too late to blog properly. I actually had a good one about a dream I had last night. I woke up and wrote it down immediately on the back of a Future Shop sales slip so you'll have to read all about it tomorrow. Here's a 2 word hint for you to keep you wanting more: Clay Aiken.

kxx (Oh, and thanks to the 24 people that still logged on to see if I'd written something new. Love ya!)

I can't believe I forgot this!

A couple of days ago I listed my favourite Christmas tunes. How could I have forgotten Bob and Doug Mackenzie's 12 Days of Christmas? A hilarious Canadian Christmas classic. Moving on...

Tonight is shopping day 2. I went out yesterday and did about one third of my list. This is the night I go with my friend Lisa. She and I met many moons ago in Montreal, did drama together and now live in Ottawa together. Well not together. You know what I mean. This is our yearly shopping jaunt and I can't wait. I hope to get the second third of my list done. The third third (I love what I'm doing here) I have to do all over town at the stores that aren't in Malls like the Workdude supply store and Toys R Us. Then I'll be mercifully all done.

I only wish I could get the wrapping done as efficiently. I tend to save it all until Christmas Eve and regretting it every second. I run out of tape, tags and wrapping paper and end up wrapping Scott's gifts with a glue stick, a Sharpie and a copy of the Sunday paper. Humbug. And of course I'm even more cranky because it's now 3:30am, the kids will be awake in mere moments and I haven't slept a wink unless you count crashing in front of Miracle on 34th Street. Ah yes, another glorious holiday tradition...

kxx

FINALLY. She's written a blog with no links

This is Henry. He is easily the most bizarre child I know.

kxx

White Christmas, anyone?

No, I'm not talking about the weather, I'm talking movies. The Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye classic. What a movie. It's not Christmas without it. What movies do you like during the holiday? What tv shows are you really looking forward to watching? As an avid tv/movie watcher, this one plays to my strengths. I only hope I can keep this list shorter than my arm.

Scrooged. I know I could list the Alastair Sim version (and my traditional fave) but Bill Murray kills me in this one. And the Solid Gold Dancers? How can you not enjoy a Christmas special with guests the Solid Gold Dancers and Mary Lou Retton? Bobcat Goldthwait's magnum opus. Hilarious.

It's a Wonderful Life ("Don'cha know me Mary?")

How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (D'uh)

A Charlie Brown Christmas (When Linus does the speech I get goosebumps)

The Sound Of Music (I'm not too sure why they play it at holiday time but they've made it a Christmas classic. It's one of my favourite things. People, I had to do it.)

A Christmas Story. A recent discovery for me. I first saw it about 3 years ago. How did it escape me for so long? Love when the father gets his "major award" and he reads the box: "Fra-GEE-lay. Must be Italian." His long suffering wife says "I think it says fragile, dear". Hee.

Elf. "Son-of-a-nutcracker!". Saw it only once but to me it became an instant classic. How funny is Will Ferrell? The sheer unself-consciousness of the man is absolutely charming. The whole movie is a delight. Awesome family stuff.

The Year Without A Santa Claus. My favourite of all the Rankin/Bass productions. It helps that it's not overplayed. Watch for my favourite part: when the Heat and Snow Misers sing their songs. Love it!

Father Christmas. "Happy bloomin' Christmas." You may have seen this British production on CBC and it's lovely and funny and grumpy. Santa is portrayed as a grouchy, politically incorrect curmudgeon. He has a great summer holiday but has to come home and work for the Christmas season. You also learn that he prefers booze to milk and cookies (just to let you know).

There are tons more but I can't think of them right now. Disagree with any of my choices? Reply and let me know. But remember it's my blog and I can do whatever I want. Within reason, of course. On second thought, if you disagree with me, get your own damn blog and complain about me in it. Oh, and Happy Holidays.

kxx

Things that make me happy

I'm off today!
Have I ever mentioned how much I love my job? It's the first time in my life that I felt comfortable saying the following sentence: "Morning boss, the kids have a PD Day on Friday so I won't be coming in." No panic, no night sweats, no fear of being fired. I love this job. And I as sit here with a batch of cookies in the oven after baking with my kids, I'm actually wondering what they're doing over there. I love this job.

So onto more bloggy things... On a board I love, we were talking about our favourite Christmas songs. As I read the lists of the other women I was surprised by the number who loved really traditional tunes. Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, some Steamroller band... I found it interesting. Not that I don't love that stuff myself, mind you. If I don't hear the Sinatra Christmas Album as we open presents on Christmas morning, I'm cancelling it. I promise. And Harry Belafonte singing "Mary's Boy Child"? Gorgeous.

But I want to push for the more modern stuff. I also want an all-Christmas-all-the-time radio station in my neck of the woods but again the CTRC is showing me no love. Anyway, I digress. Let's hear some more modern Christmas songs. It's okay to embrace them. I'm sure Dino will forgive us.

So here's a list of some of the "newer" ones I love. I've conveniently linked you to YouTube for videos of these tunes. How much do I love YouTube?

Little Drummer Boy/Peace On Earth by David Bowie and Bing Crosby
Do They Know It's Christmas by BandAid
Santa Baby by Madonna
All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey
The Power Of Love by Frankie Goes To Hollywood (not really a Xmas song but the video sure is)
2000 Miles by The Pretenders
Fairytale of New York by The Pogues
Christmas in Hollis by Run DMC

Have a great weekend, all!

kxx

Things that make me celebrate

My Christmas list!

Scott just asked for it so I thought I'd share it with you all as well. There is still lots of time to get my gift in the mail if you're so inclined. If not, It'd be a great gift you you just kept reading my blog. Oh, and maybe if you told a friend to read it too. You know the friend I mean. The one who is a book publisher who's looking for a marginally amusing suburban Canadian mum to make rich and famous. That one.

Anyway, while I wait for my phone to ring, here's my list. I hope Santa is as generous as he is exceedingly handsome. You didn't know that Santa's a sucker for flattery did you? With 3 amazingly well behaved children, I have it in solid with the big guy.

Here's the list:
-Smart Car (black or navy blue)
-KitchenAid Artisan mixer
-Christian Louboutin shoes (black and sky-high)
-washer (front loader)/dryer
-oven
-Elliptical machine
-Tummy tuck
-TiVo

*********************

Okay, seriously here's the list I expect to get stuff from:
-Battery socks
-Bayshore gift certificate
-Spa gift certificate
-Now, Voyager, The Notebook, Notting Hill dvds
-Justin Timberlake FutureSex/LoveSounds, Essential Michael Jackson, best of bowie 2 disc set, (make sure tvc15 is on it), Run Lola Run Soundtrack cd

Have fun shopping!
kx

Things that make me sigh

Okay, it's actually one thing right now. I'm in love. I'm obsessed. I can't sleep without dreaming of them. I can't get dressed without coveting them. So it looks like I'm going to hell for breaking the 10th commandment. I want these so much I can taste them. Christian Louboutin shoes.
I've seen them on eBay for nearly $1000. I know that's a ridiculous amount of money. I'm not a moron. I know there are starving children in Africa. I'm not totally insensitive. Only a little bit. Everyone has something in life they want like mad but will never have. A million dollars, the cute blonde in the next cubicle, an Xbox 360. For me it's these sexy shoes. Something about the black leather ones with the signature red sole that just makes me crazy.

With most designer shoes you have to take them off to know how much you spent on them. You have to see the signature inside. With my Louboutins you'll just have to check me out as I walk away. Now that's a visible signature. Not that it's a huge endorsement but Oprah wears them. And Sunday night I was watching Studio 60 and one of the characters was at her doctor's office. As she put on the attractive paper gown, another character took her clothes away. Wait. What was that flash? Her boots. Her beautiful black suede boots had red soles. Louboutins. The rest of the show was a blur.

So keep your Jimmy Choos, Carrie Bradshaw. I'll take my Louboutins. And if I have to have them while my kids wear Value Village clothing and we're eating ramen/ground beef casserole, I'm okay with that. But I will have these shoes before I die. Believe it.

kxx

Things that make me roll my eyes

-Political debates
-When the kids ask to help me in the kitchen
-"Girls" by the Beastie Boys
-Soaps (but don't get me wrong, I still watch them. But ironically.)
-People that make me repeat myself
-Yes, you heard me, repeat myself
-Christmas cards from people I haven't heard from all year. You know what? I don't want your card or intolerable family update letter.
-Know-it-alls
-People that complain when it's hot outside. Shut up. It's gorgeous. You know this is Canada right? The country with winter 7 months a year...
-Modern art

kxx

Things that make me giggle

Shoes on power lines
Lighted signs with burned out letters
Archie Comics
men giggling
babies cooingThe Office
Watching people fall down or get hit in the privates (thank you AFV)
voices sped up on tape recorders
vcr pause when someone's talking (especially with slack mouths or half shut eyes)

kx (hee)

I am absolutely not blogging today

NaBloPoMo is officially over and I'm blogging to tell you that I'm not blogging on weekends anymore. My family kinda likes to have my undivided my attention. Having my eyes wander over to the computer while trying to console my crying child seemed wrong, somehow. My blog went wholly unnoticed by TPTB (the powers that be), anyway but hopefully I'll be in the pool for a prize or two. After all, I qualified. I actually blogged every day for the entire month of November. And it was sooo easy. Yup. Easy.

I do hope I win a t-shirt of some kind. I do love a commemorative t-shirt. I was the one who bought one at every single concert I went to in the 80s and if I couldn't afford one, I bought a counterfeit one outside. Yes it was illegal but I love me some shirts.

Why did I do this blogging thing? For the glamorous prizes? (Ummm a hat or mug? No. T-shirt? Maybe.) The recognition of my fellow bloggers/writers? (Ya riiiight). When I figure out myself why I undertook this assignment, I'll let you know. I guess I like a challenge. I suppose.
Anyway, I haven't said this for a while so it's a happy pleasure to tell you to have a wonderful weekend and see you back here Monday. I'm going to use my downtime for baking and coming up with hysterical and highly amusing blogs for your perusal next week. See ya!

kxx

My mum said hi to me

I'm a big believer in messages and winks from the "great beyond" especially since my mum joined the choir invisible in 1993. Yesterday I got a message from my mother.

I was at work and slowly going through the piles and piles of bags. There are so many bags of clothes in this one little room it really goes beyond all description. There are 4 of us taking turns going through them and when I grabbed the bag it was the one teetering at the top of the pile. Just before a "bag-alanche" as we call them.

I started going through the clothes inside. Nothing too interesting and I accepted about 1/3 of the items inside which is pretty normal. At the bottom of the bag I see a piece of paper. I pull it out and read it. It's a french wedding invitation. Even though most of Ottawa is bilingual, finding an all french wedding ceremony here isn't too common. I read down to the bottom and saw that the wedding took place in October. In Montreal. At the very same church in St. Hubert where my mum is buried. What are the odds?

Anyone could have pulled that bag. Most girls there can't read french so they would have glanced at the paper and tossed it. Ottawa is 2 hours away from Montreal. Not too far but that particular church? Weird. And the invite with the church's name being in a bag of children's clothes to be donated? At a job I just started? Bizarre. So you know what I say to all that? Hi mummy! I love you too! Picture me smiling big and waving madly at the sky like a moron.

Missing you more than anything,
Your daughter,
Karen

Scared of Santa?

I was surfing around online trying to find an idea for today's blog when I came across this website. It's blogibility is evident once you start looking at the photos. Needless to say I have a headache induced by hysterical laughter. I'm going for a pill. Be forewarned of the dangers of:

Scared of Santa

My favourite photos are not so much the children (although mouths in perfect soundless "O"'s of sheer terror can barely be beat), but of the Santas themselves. They're either resigned to their lot in life or about to snap like serial killers. It's those eyes. Those cold dead eyes.

Speaking of eyes, I have to now remove my other contact lens. The first one actually swam out in a pool of tears caused by the 10 minutes of non-stop giggling. Where's my Tylenol?

kxx

I don't get it

Yesterday Elliott asked me how to spell a word for a homework assignment. I said the first automatic/idiotic thing that came to mind: "Go look it up in the dictionary". He gave me the inevitable answer: "How can I look it up if I can't spell it?" He's right.

Parents and teachers for eons have been using that "look it up in the dictionary" gambit when it comes to spelling. Why? It makes absolutely no sense. So I told my handsome son how to spell the word and we both went on with our lives. Take that teachers of the world. Nyah.

kxx

Water water everywhere

It poured rain two nights ago and yesterday morning we woke up and saw the ground gushing water from under the fire hydrant across the street. A water main broke. We called the city and they advised us to fill the bathtub and every available container with water in case they had to shut it off.

It's weird how you take water for granted living in this part of the world. We flush without thinking, we wash our hands, we let the shower run a bit so it's nice and hot when we get in... we are really fortunate. I made hamburgers for dinner and sighed deeply because I had to use cold, stored water to wash the meat off my fingers. How spoiled we are.

They only turned the water off for a couple of hours so no showers were in jeopardy but seeing my bathtub filled to the brim with water and watching Henry learn how to fill the toilet tank to flush it made me pause. There are so many people who have to walk for miles to get dribbles of dirty water. Who have to bathe in rivers or share their bathwater. And not in the fun way.

We are really very lucky and take so much for granted. I feel guilty. I wish this stuff crossed my mind more often. I can be very shallow and self involved (really!?) and that makes me feel guilty too. In fact, I may not even remember this episode in a few weeks. At least I have this blog. And maybe tomorrow I'll jump in the shower without warming the water first in honour of those who would love even a freezing cold shower. If I remember to, that is.

kxx

Things you don't know about me

I've blogged every weekday since 17th January 2006 and every single day in November so far. You all know so much about me if you wanted you could show up at my house in the next 30 minutes with a minimum of research and a bottle of Orangina (my favourite).

But there are some things you actually don't know about me. Believe that. But today I'll enlighten you with a few things I haven't yet blogged about.

1. I floss every single day. Haven't missed a day in probably 20 years.
2. I only like blue pens. Writing in black ink or, God forbid, green, makes me feel stressed.
3. When you compliment my cooking, I feel the same as if you tell me I'm pretty. Shy, giggly and flustered.
4. The first thing I ever wanted to be in my life was an archeologist. I wanted to be one before I could spell it. I'm over it now but dinosaur bones and fossils at the natural museum can mesmerise me.
5. I use Vaseline to moisturise my skin. Everywhere but my face (but I use it on my lips, though). If you don't believe it works, you should feel my skin. And it's dead cheap.
6. I hate used books. Library books give me the creeps. When I read a brand new book, I never ever bend the spine. I just crack them a bit and peep inside. My used books look like they've never been read.
7. I count things. Even though I suck at math, I'm fascinated by the numbers of things. But weird things like syllables in this sentence (11). Or how many steps to walk my kids to school (214).
8. I hate pyjamas but won't sleep nude. I wear a tank top and undies to bed.
9. The sound of half-dry markers on any paper (but particularly construction paper) makes me want to cry and punch someone simultaneously. But unfortunately the only people usually around in drawing-with-marker situations are children.
10. I can only eat kiwi with the skin on. Otherwise the texture is too slimy and it becomes yucky.

So there you have it. 10 things you didn't know about me. Take them as you will. I've got to get the kids ready for school. Happy Monday!

kxx

I'm feeling better since yesterday's post

Everything has blown over and all's right with the world once again. The comics last night actually helped. Sugar Sammy, the headliner, was hysterical. He is East Indian and he kept joking about the fact that no one could remember his name and will often call him "Super Paki". Hee. Loved him.

I'm awful at remembering jokes which I find irritating because I'm able to make people laugh in the course of a conversation. But jokes? Not so much. The ones I can remember are mostly clean and always dorky. Like this one I just heard:

Why can't centaurs dance?
Because they have two left feet.

I can see you rolling around in front of your monitors right now. I tell you, it's a rare gift.

kxx

I SO should not be blogging

Besides being in a foul mood (brought on by MANopause if you get my drift, and the impending arrival of Aunt Flo), I have groceries melting on the counter, laundry mouldering in the washer and a babysitter due in an hour. See, Scott and I are going to a comedy show tonight. Hello Irony? Meet Life. Life, Irony. We've been grumping at each other all day. The last thing I want to do is sit in a car with him all the way to the club pretending that everything's sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows then sit together to listen to some lame-ass comic talk about relationships all bloody night. Oh yeah, baby. Just what the doctor ordered.

Sigh. Well off I go to prepare for my evening of hilarity. I dare this guy to clear up my black mood. He'd better be fucking funny.

kxx

I gave blood Wednesday night

I have to say that giving blood makes me feel superior and terribly smug. Scott is afraid of needles and I never get tired of telling him how cool it is to watch the big sucking needle slide slowly into your vein. I love to watch him go green and queasy. Such a good wife. And this time for an added bonus we had our dialogue in front of Elliott so Scott had to uncomfortably explain what a good thing I was doing and how much of a wimp he was for never going. It's terrible the day a son realizes his dad can't leap tall buildings in a single bound. Hee.

Sometimes I go but can't donate. I'm frequently anemic and their test picks it up. Thankfully yesterday I was okay. Also, sometimes it takes me forever. Often over a half hour. One time the nurse pulled the needle out of my arm and saw that my blood had clotted in the tube because it was running so slow. Ew. Maybe that explains why I'm always so flipping cold.

Anyway, Wednesday the nurse told me I set a record for the day. My blood fairly sprayed out at a rate of a full pint in under 6 minutes. Not that it's a competition or anything. But just for the record, I won.

kx

Oh my hell, my mother looks like a hooker

Scott and I went to see Borat on the weekend. No review here just suffice it to say that I should have worn Depends and waterproof mascara.

I'm not giving anything away when I say there's a prostitute in it. The moment she came on screen Scott and I gasped and started elbowing each other. Except for about 30 extra pounds and blonde hair, the actress was the spitting image of my mother. She's been gone since 1995 so seeing someone that looked so much like her was surreal. The fact that she was a hooker was hysterical. My mother would have loved it. It helped that her character was the kindest, sweetest person in the movie, too.

On the left is Luenell, on the right is my mum Mabel (30 years ago as evinced by the 60s bug glasses)

kxx

Wednesday "Would You Rather"

I constantly had a rock in my shoe yesterday and it was driving me nuts. As I stood on the sidewalk of Richmond Road shaking it out the first time of the day, a thought occurred: "This sucks but it's better than losing a sneeze". I often think moronic things.

But seriously, which would you rather? Always having something stuck in your shoe or never really sneezing... just always having that moment where you think you are but don't. Augh. For me would be way too close to call.

Actually it was an all around "would you rather" day yesterday. We Ottawans haven't seen the sun in about 3 weeks. But it's been relatively mild with no snow yet. Yesterday was a sunny day but colder than it's been all month. So the question everyone asked each other was (and all people seemed to talk about was the weather, for some reason), would you rather cold and sunny or mild and cloudy? I couldn't pick one. Every time I was asked, I seemed to be busy shaking out my stupid converse.

kxx

Let's go for stream of consciousness today...

In other words, I got nothing. That said, let's look around my environment. Remember this is last night and not this morning. I've got that new "working girl" system where I write at night and publish in the morning, remember? You know how it is with us dedicated worker bees...

Sounds:
1. As usual the tv is on. I'm watching the recap show of Project Runway. Canada ran the series after the US so I know who won already. But it still doesn't stop me from enjoying the process.

2. Scott's mum's mantle clock. Can I admit that I hate the thing? I was able to disable its horrible bonging on the half hour but it's the only clock in the living room so the incessant ticking lives on. It's so loud people who sleep over here in the guestroom downstairs often ask to stop the racket while they try to get to sleep. I know it's got sentimental value for him but it's fugly. I evilly wish it would fall off the wall. What a good wife I am.

Time:11:04pm

Things to do before bed:
1) Make my lunch for work
2) Sweep the kitchen floor
3) Put out my clothes for the morning
4) Write in my diary (yes, I still do it even though I blog). Why? I dunno.
5) Read my Archie comic. You heard. Wanna make something of it? It's a vice. Everybody's got one.

Well, bed is looking really good right now so I'm going. And from the looks of the list above I've got a few things to do before I get in there. You have just read another stellar blog by yours truly. I'll bet you wish you had that time back, don't you? Eh? Be honest. This NaBloPoMo thing is tough. Especially when I have nothing to say. But that's never stopped me before.

kxx

What the hell has happened to English?

Please help me out here. Can I be the only one in North America that knows what "shat" means? I saw an ad for William Shatner's new game show that describes it as "Shatastic". Are you kidding me? Are they high? How on God's green earth did that get past every single censor and purveyor of good taste and make it to air?

Is the show any good? I have no idea. Frankly, I don't care. I do know, however, that it's full of "shat". Or so I'm told by the network. And what the eff is up with the dancing girls? Again, I say, complete and utter shat.

kxx

TomKat, Brangelina et al

I was thinking of TomKat after the wedding of the century (Umm. Ya.) and wondering about those ridiculous blended one-name thingies that star couples get. I heard it started in the soap opera chatroom world where people would talk about their favourite couples in those ridiculous terms. Okay, I shouldn't talk since I've referred to my favourite soap couple as "Zendall" on more than one occasion.

Who else is there besides TomKat and Brangelina? Bennifer, Vaughniston, Ashmi (for Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore)... The whole thing is "stipid". That's my blended word for stupid and insipid. I guess we media whores are just plain lazy. Or "plazy".

What if we did this in real life? Would a telephone caller looking for either Scott or me ask for Scaren? Would our property tax bill come addressed to Karott? Frankly I wish it would. It would prove to me without a shadow of a doubt that property taxes were not meant to be paid.

Well, I've blogged enough. Henry, Elliott and Audrey are asking me to play Monopoly with them. Or rather "Hellau" need my attention. Just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? Blech.

kxx

Ahhh, the good old days

A couple of months ago Audrey and I went to pioneer village and I took a photo of a poster that listed the punishments for misbehaving in class. Let me just state that I am very pleased to have been a student in the 80's. That said, maybe a few of these could come back for either teachers or parents to administer without being brought up on criminal charges. Kids today are running rampant. I particularly like the burning the ankles with a poker penalty. Oh, and the gagging. Love the gagging. Those were the days, eh?

kxx

Why, oh why, do I open my big mouth?

Audrey and I went to a pet store a few months ago and we saw a glass thingie (see how NaBloPoMo is expanding my vocabulary?) full of miniature rabbits. Even I, who is unswayed by even the cutest shitty-poo puppy or whatever the hell they're called, went all smooshy inside.
Audrey had the incredible foresight to ask me in my mentally weakened state if she could have one for her birthday. Mercifully it's in June so I said something incredibly stupid like "Absolutely, Diva, anything you want. Aw, look, that one is crawling on his brother's head. Aren't they sweet?". Never say something so definite to an 8 year old girl.

Here I was thinking she'd forget as soon as her butt hit the car seat but no such luck, dammit. Every single day since, she's been talking about the thing. It's name is "Lucky" whether it's a boy or girl. It'll be black. She talks about the high shelf she'll put it on in her room so Taz doesn't treat it like a lovely, fuzzy chew toy. She came home today saying that all her little girlfriends in her class want to come to her birthday party next summer so they can see Lucky's big debut. Uh oh. Hasn't she forgotten about this yet? I'm so busted. I don't want a flipping rabbit. But I deserve one for opening my big flapping gob.

How could I think that she'd forget what I promised? Do I not know my own daughter? I've been at this mother thing for over a decade. I should really learn to check myself. How long do rabbits live, anyway?.... I just checked. Five to 7 YEARS. I'm so busted.

kxx

Can I gush about my new job?

If you have to work and are obligated to give up taking care of your house, baking, working out and soap opera watching, this is the job for you. I love it.

I work with an awesome bunch of women. The room we're in is stuffy and windowless and once after coming in from lunch I saw that my boss was in her panties. On day 3.

The girls and I had a conversation about how much we loved our dishwashers. I mentioned that on occasion I like to hump mine in an obviously misguided expression of affection. The room broke up laughing and I knew I'd found my peeps.

Yesterday, an hour before the end of the day, I got a call from the kids' school. There was a plumbing issue and I had to go collect them. Oh crap. I've only been there a few days. How will it look? I explained the situation to my boss and she sympathetically said "see you tomorrow". No stress about leaving, no forms to fill out, no inconveniencing a room full of toddlers and parents, I just walked out the door. Never ever in my entire working life have I had a job like this. Since I got home early I baked cookies and will bring them a big batch as a thank you.
Have I mentioned how much I adore this job?

kxx

Vinegar and oil

How much vinegar does one family need? I just went through my pantry and this is the inventory:

rice vinegar
malt vinegar
white vinegar (x2... one in the pantry, one in the laundry room for stinky clothes)
red wine vinegar
white wine vinegar
cider vinegar (x2... not sure why)
balsamic vinegar

Here's why. I'm a fastidious recipe follower. If a recipe calls for something specific like, say balsamic vinegar, I'll buy it. Even if it calls for only a tablespoon. I realize since I started this blog that I have many "things" (such as having perfectly pedicured feet year round and never wearing jeans and a jean jacket together) and this, apparently, is one of them. I need to follow every recipe to a tee with no deviations or exceptions. Even recipes I've used for years I'll very rarely substitute ingredients. So obviously it's another one of my "things". Something else this blog has made me realize: I'm very obviously neurotic. Sigh.

Now that I've prostrated myself in front of you all (yet again), I don't even want to admit my flavoured oil obsession. I guess I could make a kick-ass salad dressing. If I liked salad, that is.

kxx

FIRE!

I may have mentioned this once or twice before but I love my house.

I bought a new alarm clock yesterday. I don't even want to go into the frustration of having two people wake up with one alarm setting on the clock. Let's just leave it at grrrrrrr. Anyway, I found one with 2 alarm settings and put my old one in the boys' room. They've never had an alarm clock before and they sleep very deeply. It usually takes me 15 minutes of begging, pleading and bribing to get them moving. Not today, though.

I thought it would be a lark to set it and see what happened. I knew that they'd never wake up to music so I went for the awful buzzer. Fast forward to this morning.

I wake as usual at 6:30 and get ready. When 7:00 rolls around, the bathroom door is open and I'm letting the steam out and putting on my war paint for the day. I hear the alarm go off in the boys' room and think how clever I am and how I should have done this ages ago. Then I hear this:

Henry (drowsily): What's that, Elliott?
Elliott: It's the fire alarm, dummy! Oh SHIT! There's a fire in the house! (Remind me to talk to him about the potty mouth)

Elliott jumped from the top bunk, gallantly pulled Henry from the bottom bunk onto the floor and ran into the hallway. He stood there in his undies and socks jumping up and down screaming "FIRE!" at the top of his lungs. His poor eyes were as big as saucers and I think he wet himself a little. It took ages to calm him down and explain about the clock.

Besides having to go over proper fire procedure with the family and the unfortunate cursing issue, I really enjoy this house. We sure have a ball over here.

kxx

So great to meet you, Chris(topher)!

I met Chris online here on MySpace a few months ago and we got to meet in person over the weekend. I'm not sure how many of you have met an online friend but it's surreal. A bizarre mix of trust, luck and hope. You've got to trust that the person you're meeting is not an axe wielding kook. You've also got luck on your side when you finally realize that the person you're meeting isn't an axe-wielding kook and hope that they don't bring out the axe-wielding kook hidden deep inside you. It's all very psychological.

I've met online friends 3 times before. The first time was the most scary when I actually took a flight to Calgary to meet my gorgeous friend Lori. The second was a trip to Toronto to the Safari Park and the third was that long drive to camp in Delaware this summer. All these were women and all were from the same board where we first got together because we were pregnant and due in June 1998. Pretty safe, I'd say.

This weekend was different. MySpace is not known for it's quality inhabitants (present company excluded, of course). Anytime there's an online pedophile on the loose, chances are MySpace will be mentioned in the news. Chris contacted me because he saw from my profile that I loved the Smiths and so does he. We emailed often and he eventually became my first. IM buddy, people. Get your minds out of the gutter.

Anyway, it turned out that his wife would be here in town for business and the family would travel to Ottawa. I didn't hesitate for a second. We met at the cenotaph right after the Remembrance Day ceremony. Right in front of the tomb of the unknown soldier. It was perfect.
His wife was awesome and sweet, his son was one of the most adorable children next to mine that I have ever seen and Chris? Contagious smile, full of fun and life and thankfully, no axe in sight. But loads of CDs. Thanks, hon!

We went out for lunch then to the dinosaur museum. We had such a good time that we met again the next day. Sunday it was off for Beavertails and a walk around the market, ending with a toast to new friends with pints of Guinness. Couldn't have asked for better.

So Chris won't see this until he gets back from New York in a couple of days but I want him to know how much fun we all had meeting him and his family and we'd do it again anytime. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love the Internet. Isn't it great when one of your best computer friends isn't an axe-wielding kook?

kxx

Funny things I overheard today

As I was getting dressed for work this morning, Henry walked in on me in the bathroom. He said "Mummy, you have a giant wedgie!!" I was wearing a thong at the time.

On our way to meet my Internet friend Chris(topher), Audrey and Henry asked if Robert (his 3 year old son) would be there. They squealed with joy when I said yes and started a loud extended chorus of "CUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!" all the way down the Queensway that had me in stitches. Hm. I guess you had to be there for that one.

Audrey and Henry were discussing which birds they wanted to be. Henry wanted to be a blue jay. Audrey thought maybe birds weren't the way to go since they'd have to eat worms and bugs. I explained that to birds, bugs and worms are like french fries. She replied "All right, I'll be a bird. Also, having babies won't hurt as much either." Wha? Where'd that come from? Too funny.

I love this family.

kxx

Nut bra?

Does this actually happen to guys? Eww. How awful. I mean having saggy boobs is one thing but having your family jewels fall in the toilet every time you need to go? How undignified.
I often ask Scott how he manages with his twig and berries. There seems to be so much, well, junk to take care of. You can't smack 'em by accident yet they're always bulging. One brief thought crosses your mind and you can't stand up for 10 minutes unless you want to look like the creepy guy down the street who always has his hands in his pockets.

Boys' junk has also made me wonder why clothes evolved the way they did. Why do women wear the skirts and men wear the pants? You'd think that because of the outdoor plumbing issues that men have and the fact that they often wear their thoughts on their er... sleeves that skirts and dresses would have been the more logical evolutional step wardrobe-wise for them. I'll always think the Scots had the right idea. Think of it. The woman would have been the one to wear the pants in the family.

kxx

Good Evening!

Okay, it's afternoon to you but I'm writing this last night... er... I wrote this last night... oh, whatever. It's Thursday night right now. For me. I decided to blog at night and post it the next day. I'm a working girl now, you know. I've got to rethink the way I did things for the last 8 years. Have I actually been a stay-at-home-mum for over 8 years? How surreal. Oh, that reminds me: I have to put in a load of laundry for Audrey. Tomorrow is "Red Friday" and the Diva has demanded her red velour track suit. BRB...

"They" say that wearing red on Fridays doesn't necessarily mean we support the war in Iraq, just that we support our troops. And, really, how can we not? They're usually kids, have kids themselves and they leave for months at a time to fight in an illogical war. I'll admit I don't agree with our being there in the first place but when I wear my red every Friday, it's to support the people (usually mums) who home alone raising their kids.

Hey, I was being really political up there, wasn't I? That's so not usually me, is it? Let's lighten things up with this unexplainable solider-y video. Hey, there has to be some down-time for these guys, right? And thank goodness for it.

kx

This gave me a giggle today

I rarely watch their tv show but the swishy dishy Scottish boys from How Not To Decorate are coming to Canada and I couldn't resist going to the HGTV website to check them out. And boy, am I glad I did. These little videos have made my day. The mincing walk in the RCMP uniform, the syllable separation of the word "Mountie" (I'll never hear the word without giggling ever again), the children's book, the food tasting... all gold, baby.

Enjoy and have a "fruitful" day. Hee.

kxx

Ah yes, the amazing excess of America

I give you, ladies and gentlemen, the Heart Attack Grill in Tempe Arizona. I worry about a restaurant that thinks this is okay. I'm so not a prude and have a terrific sense of humour but this goes beyond good taste (Hee. See what I did there?).

I can tell where someone thought this could be a great idea. The anti-granola crunching feminist, the anti-veggie burger eater, anti-Zone/South Beach/Atkins diet craze. I get it. It's like an SNL skit. But in a country where they make custom toilets because people's asses have gotten too large for standard ones, it seems like a slap in the face to those who are trying to be healthy, doesn't it?

This place brags wait staff dressed like doctors and nurses and will even push you out to your car in a wheelchair if you find you've eaten too much. They serve a Quadruple Bypass Burger and Flatliner Fries. Don't forget your Diet Coke. Ew. I hope they also have portable defibrillators and 911 on speed dial.

That said, a teeny weeny part of me wants to swing by there the next time I'm in Tempe. Maybe it's because the whole idea of the place needs to be seen to believed. But I think more of it is to actually try a Bypass Burger. I admit it. Because as much as I like to complain about the Sodom and Gomorrah-ness of our neighbours to the south, I love their moxie. Their sense of entitlement. Their appalling sense of I-can-do-whatever-the-hell-I-want-because-I-live-in the-best-gd-country-in-the-whole-damn-world nonsense. What other country on this planet could come up with something so ludicrous, so deliciously insulting? To health care professionals, vegetarians, health nuts, women, thin people, the obese, the wonky US health care system... the list goes on.

So basically I need to keep quiet. I like to complain but from the safe distance that is Canada. Close enough to see (and love) this stuff but far enough away to be grossed out by, and look down my nose at it. So. I wonder if the Heart Attack Grill does takeout?

kxx

I want a "Jeopardy story"

I watch Jeopardy almost every night and after the first commercial break the contestants have a chance to tell Alex a short and interesting story about themselves. Alex would say something like: "Marvin I hear that you have an amazing model railway setup in your basement." And Marvin would say: "Yes, Alex, it's modelled after the Kings Cross 9 3/4 platform that Harry Potter uses to get to Hogwarts school." Alex would reply something like: "Your wife must be very tolerant. Haha." "Yes she is, Alex," Marvin would say, "she's a peach" (or some such nonsense). And down the line Alex goes to the next contestant. "So Lance, I hear you spent a very interesting night in a Tijuana jail", he continues...

I want a Jeopardy story. Something fascinating to tell Alex that would only take a few seconds. Something that may even make him laugh. I tend to have a staggering case of blabbermouth-itis on top of the fact that most of my interesting stories are just plain epic long. I'm talking Beowulf long. How do they come up with such tv-friendly sound bytes?

Should I tell about the time I puked down my boyfriend's heat register so every time their heat came on for ages after it smelled like vomit nachos? Long story. Not to mention seriously inappropriate. May get a laugh, though. What about the story of my 37 hour labour with Elliott? Not only does that one take about 3 hours to tell (if I leave out the slides) but it would be seriously boring to 98% of the viewing audience. And I'd wonder about that 2%.

I can see it now:
Alex: So Karen, tell us about the first time you made a cake for your dad's birthday.
Me: Um. Well, I was about 10 and I had no frosting so I used chocolate pudding instead thinking it was basically the same thing.
Alex: Did it work?
Me: No.
Alex: Oh well. Too bad.
(crickets)
Alex: So, Marie! Tell us about your life-saving work with the Peace Corps...

Gaaah! And if you win, you need 5 of these stories. I'd be the only player in Jeopardy history to never once buzz in.

It's amazing the way my mind works. Did you know I've been thinking about this off and on for years? And with little to no chance on ever getting on Jeopardy you'd think I'd just let it go. I'm wasting valuable brain space on this one. Space I frankly don't have the space to spare. Can someone just help me think of one interesting story for Alex? So I can move on with my life? I keep a blog for goodness sakes. You'd think there'd be one good, funny and mercifully short story I could share with the world. Right?

kxx

I'm a working woman now

I just got through my first day at work. It really is overwhelming the sheer amount of clothes we have to go through. The room we're in is piled to the ceiling with garbage bags full of clothes for sorting. I'm not even exaggerating. To go to the toilet I had to scramble over them to get out the door and to leave for the day I had to use the front door as the back door was blocked with bags.
I learned the computer system and how they choose clothes to keep and toss. And they are really picky. Which is good because the clothes they end up selling are extremely good quality.
We had lots of laughs today too. You wouldn't believe what people put in bags. It's as if they're actually putting garbage in those bags. If your baby pukes out their pea soup all over his white Gap sweater, don't send it to consignment, people. Same goes if your daughter wore those OshKosh overalls when she was a baby. In 1982. No thanks.

The girls are so nice and friendly. I met Diane, Candice, Ivana, Tara and Linda. Oh and how can I forget Gurudeep? She's a yoga instructor and was given her name by a yogi. Her old name was Nicole. Interesting, eh? What a first day. I'll definitely be enjoying this job. First time in ages and you know what? No stress. But I am exhausted. See you tomorrow.

kxx

My first ever Sunday blog

My cold is lifting and I'm feeling better and thank goodness because I still had to work. There was a conflict with Elliott's hockey so I had to take Audrey and Henry with me to work as well as take a taxi. Yuck. It sucks taking a cab to the Y since it costs about $20 and I get paid $16 for my 2 hours. I have to keep reminding myself that I do it for the free Y membership. Although now that I have the new day job I don't know when I'll actually get to work out. I hate going at night. Maybe Saturday and Sunday mornings?

Tomorrow is my first day at the consignment store. I'm excited but not nervous. This job also cuts into my baking time. We actually bought cookies yesterday. Being home at 3pm means I can make supper with no problems but cakes, cookies and special breads (like my mall pretzels) will be a no go. We all have to make sacrifices, right? And just think: we can afford to buy Oreos again. Mmmmm....

kx

So welcome to my first weekend blog

I slept in late because I woke up with a cold. Here's a haiku on feeling gross today:

Sick on Saturday
Chicken soup in a big mug
Does not help at all

Hey, that wasn't too bad. Now I'm going to veg in front of the tv, mug in hand. See you tomorrow.

kx

Another two topic blog

First, I'd like to warn all my loyal readers that I'll be blogging on weekends for the month of November so expect more writing from me. November is National Blog Posting Month or NaBloPoMo and I'm committed to doing a blog a day for glamorous cash and prizes. Most of which, I'm sure, won't be available to Canadians as I've come to expect with the weighty Americanness of the Internet.

Anyway, the prizes aren't the point. It's the pure love of words and writing and okay, the prizes a teensy bit. I've decided to share a photo or amusing haiku of my own invention to keep it simple since weekends are crazy busy here. You didn't know I wrote haiku did you? My poetry sucks like an Electrolux but trying them makes me laugh. Hey, all my blogs can't be solid gold.

Topic 2:
Well, people, it's the end of an era. Your Karen has a job. I got called last night by my new boss Diane and told the "good" news. Good is in quotes only because while I need a job in order to buy brand name cheese again, I'd frankly rather stay home all day. I was meant to be a 50s housewife. Cook and clean all day, vacuum wearing pearls, roasts on weeknights, the occasional bonbon, soap opera watching kind of wife. Except for the pearls and bonbons, that's me all over. The irony is that in order to afford those bonbons, I need an outside job. Most of you know I work Sunday mornings at the YMCA but $14 Canadian a week does not a bonbon buy. And let's call a spade a spade here (no pun intended), I'm only doing it for the free gym membership. I'll be keeping that job too, by the way. It keeps me in treadmills.

So the job I've got has delicious hours. When I asked Diane what they were, she, in turn, asked me what I wanted them to be. Huh? I told her that I had 3 kids that I didn't want to put into care before or after school, so how about "ummm... 9:30 until 2:30"? Fine, she said. Just like that. She's very flexible about working around sick kids and school holidays and stressed that the job is stress-free. I couldn't have written better job description myself.

The job itself isn't the best. For very little pay I'll be sifting through bags of children's clothes looking for good stuff to consign and pricing them. The room is in the basement and has no windows but it's brightly lit and painted and filled with women who have yet to hear my tired old stories. Oh yeah baby, fresh ears for my stale tales. A room full of mums who haven't heard my "A" material. This is gonna be great.

So unless I get an early morning brainfart, most blogs should be online after 3pm daily. Try not to miss me too much. I'll be here. See what happens? As soon as I sign up for this daily blog thing, life throws me a curve. Isn't it interesting how things work out?

kxx

Today is Mexican Day of the Dead

Even though I'm not Mexican or even know any Mexicans, I love to celebrate Day of the Dead. It's a lovely tribute to the people you loved who have died. Traditionally you tidy up their gravesites, gather around and remember their lives. Sometimes they'll decorate an altar in their homes draped with flowers and keepsakes of the dead loved ones.

I liked the idea of this so much that we do a modified version here. I make Pan de Muerto (bread of the dead) and after dinner we share it and Scott and I talk about our parents. It's just informal, usually funny stories about my mum and his parents. If I was nearby I'd go to my mother's grave and fix it up but she's in Montréal.

It's just another day to try to remember those who've left us and there can never be too many of those, can there?

kxx

Halloween hangover

We had about 5 knocks on the door and maybe 10 kids in all. And with the 20 bags of home made caramel corn and box of 100 mini chocolate bars, we have a few things left over. Oh and I can't forget to mention the yes sir, yes sir, three bags full of junk that the kids brought home. We haven't even cut the pumpkin cake I made. Needless to say we're pinging with sugar over here.
The kids literally crashed last night. After storytime Henry wouldn't leave Audrey's bed and slept there all night.

All day today I was running errands and taking grocery bags of candy along as I went. I took a bag to the gym (it's amazing how fit people like to eat crap LOL!) and I had a job interview so I took a bribe (I mean BAG) of chocolates (only the good stuff) to the store. The interview went really well, by the way. I think the chocolate put me over the top. I got a good feeling from them, actually. I may have a job, people. You know I'll keep you posted.

Later I'm taking a bag over to the seniors residence near my place. What toothless octogenarian wouldn't love a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop and some caramel toffee? Oh and I should throw in some of my caramel corn, too. Hee.

kxx

Boo!

Busy Halloween day over here. I got all the kids ready for their Halloween parties complete with cookies and costumes. I just picked them up and Audrey brought back all her cookies because her teacher only wanted "healthy snacks". Hmph. If I'd known I'd have saved myself the pain-in-the-ass of baking all day yesterday and the day before. I was impressed with his "Mr. Bergstrom-ness" but now I've gone off him. Again I say hmph.

After I got the kids off to school I went to the gym then visited with a new friend Steph. Great girl, gorgeous house. I'm definitely playing an extra set of lottery numbers this week.

When I got home I baked a cake in the shape of a pumpkin and made another batch of caramel corn (I'm actually still working on that). I'm getting grumpy, I wore my horns all day and they're getting itchy. And we haven't even gone out yet. I'm starting to feel like my profile photo. Save me.

kxx

It's pronounced "mo-RISH-us".

The Amazing Race was on last night and one of their destinations was Mauritius. Off the coast of Africa near Madagascar. Home of the Dodo. Am I alone here? Yes, I had a friend in high school from this gorgeous country (Hi Ichelle!) but am I the only one who's heard of this country? Well me and Elliott, anyway? And face it, I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer and he is in grade 5

My son and I watched as team after team got the clue and read it aloud. We tittered then giggled then howled as 10, yes, TEN people had the most creative pronunciations for Mauritius I've ever heard. The only ones to get it right was the final team. Coincidentally they were male models who met in rehab. Will wonders never cease?
I have the offenders on tape saying:
1) mo-RASH-ius
2) mora-TI-us
3) mo-RID-ius
4) mo-REACH-us
5) mo-RUCH-us

That's 5 different pronunciations, 5 teams and 10 different people. I was shocked and highly amused.

They were even asking to buy tickets to the place using those mangled pronunciations. If I was the ticket agent I'd have sent them all over hell's half-acre. Hee.

Now I'm not saying we have to know the GNP, population and capital city of every country on the planet but I honestly thought that Mauritius was more well known than that. Especially when Elliott knew how to pronounce it and what their flag looked like. Okay, that last one wasn't fair. I had to take his word on the flag thing until I could Google it. And he was right. He's "Rainman" when it comes to flags.

Anyway, the whole thing made for a riotous evening. Even Scott had to come up and ask what was going on. And better yet, Elliott and I had a great bonding moment. So thanks, racers. Oh, and it's "mo-RISH-us". Just so you know.

kxx

I'm tired of your ads

I love American tv. I spend the bulk of my day watching American tv. "Heroes" is my absolute favourite new show of the season. An amazing example of the deliciousness of American tv. I even love the commercials. In fact, I laugh every time I see the one with the people whose credit cards have been stolen speaking in the voice of the thief. The big sweaty black man singing an awful version of "Unbreak My Heart" is a particular fave. But I hate your ads during an election year.

We get your political attack ads and they are terrible. They're mean, unflattering and worse yet, they only tell you NOT to vote for. Ummmm... what about the issues of the candidates you want to vote for? How are people going to find out the way their candidate thinks? Read a paper?

Sorry to tell you but more people watch tv. If I was voting (and there is a mayoral election in Ottawa next month... can't wait) I'd be looking to my television to hear and see my candidate tell me what he/she is going to do for me and my community. Seeing them bash each other would just make me want to not vote at all. It's so irritating. You know what would make this a lot more fun? A cage match. Stick all the candidates in a cage and let them fight their way out. Then the ads would make more sense because it would be like pro wrestling. And who doesn't like a good steel cage match?

kxx

I don't like Halloween and it's my parents' fault

I try to get into it but I hate decorating. I think it's a waste of money. I also hate the idea of kids going door to door and (usually impolitely) demanding candy. Some don't even say "trick or treat" they just hold up their greedy little bags. And don't get me started on when those 14 year olds ring the bell after 9pm wearing half-assed costumes and looking all menacing. And I don't mean the costumes.

This is all my parents' doing. My West Indian dad was dead set (no pun intended) against the "begging" aspect of Halloween. Not to mention his ultra Roman Catholic wrong-thinking that the whole day was about the devil and evil. So we'd hide in the darkened basement and wait until the doorbell stopped ringing. On the rare occasion that we did give out something, it was pennies and/or apples. Yes, we were that family.

I've never been able to get into Halloween since then. When I hit high school I got invited to parties but my indifference toward Halloween never lifted. I never tried to win the costume contest... I barely wore a costume at all. I was a nurse one year because my mum was a nurse and there were few a uniforms in the closet. I've gone dressed as a boy and worn my brother's clothes. Once I tried to go as a hooker... daisy dukes, shirt tied in a knot, high heels and fishnet stockings and my parents refused to let me leave the house. Now I get it. Then? Not so much. A few years ago I was a devil. All I did was wear a cape and horns over a sexy black dress. See? No effort.

I try because of the kids. They get so excited. But I just can't muster up any enthusiasm for buying a bunch of chocolate for ungrateful neighbourhood kids wearing superhero costumes under their snowsuits and toques. Superheros don't get cold, do they?

My kids keep begging me to put up decorations like the neighbours but I just can't. I just don't care. They're lucky we even buy and carve a pumpkin. I don't even like to take them trick-or-treating. It's usually freezing and/or drizzling. I use the old "if-I-go-out-with-you-all-there'll-be-no-one-here-to-give-out-treats" ruse. It works every year. And for that they can blame their grandpa. Thanks, dad.

I just have to let it be known that I'm wholly impressed by those who love Halloween. The people who dress up to hand out candies, who make "victims" walk through their "haunted" houses and who set up the screams-and-scary music cd. I just wish it was me. I think I may put dry ice in my jack-o-lantern this year. See, I can grow.

kxx