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