Wednesday, September 30, 2009

I've got a nickname!

One of the salesmen at my new job calls me “Smiley” and I absolutely love it. I’m thinking that he’s having trouble remembering my actual name but who cares.

I’ve never had a nickname before. Well, except for the unfortunate “Antonius Rex” in my college days, but it felt forced and didn’t stick. Plus, I made it up myself, ignoring the horrible dinosaur reference. And of course “Oreo Cookie” which, in high school, was just meant to be mean.

I’ve also been part of collective nicknames… you know the kind. Given to you by someone in your life who calls everyone the same nickname like “Dude” or “Buddy”. I myself have been guilty of going the “Sweetie” route.

But, Smiley? I wholeheartedly approve. I hope it catches on around here.


Tuesday, September 29, 2009


Have you ever heard of this stuff? Oh my hell it's the best thing since sliced bread.

I have issues with many many things. Not the least of which is my own er... issue. I won't "go" anywhere but home. It has to do with the smell and the fact that everyone will know that I befouled the room. Yes, I'm aware that everyone does it but I just can't get past it. It's my crazy and I own it, okay? I'll pinch and flex until I get home even if I've had to go since I was in the car on the way to work. If that doesn't equal intestinal fortitude, I don't know what does.

Anyhoo, this weekend at Moms Go Wild, during one of our many (many) shopping trips I found among many (many) things a bottle of something called Poo-Pourri. It solves my issue issue completely. You spray it on the surface of the water before you go, then you go. Seriously, I don't know how it works and I don't care. It's flipping fantastic. It actually works!

It's a little bottle so it fits in my purse. I'll be able to poop everywhere. Tim Hortons, the arena, friends houses and yes, even work. Look out world, here comes my... err.. well, you know.


Monday, September 28, 2009

Another crazy weekend

We had a "Mom's Gone Wild" weekend in a cute little town about 2 hours away from here. It was so much fun. In point form we:

  • rented a Victorian cottage
  • drank copious amounts of alcohol
  • ate gourmet food
  • had the best baths of out lives in a clawfoot tub
  • spent copious amounts of time pretending we weren't repsonsible adults
  • played a karaoke game on the PS2
  • met a gorgeous calico cat we chrisened "Brit" after the name of the house we stayed at
  • bought tons of stuff we didn't need
  • watched a chick flick
  • played Scruples...
It was a complete scream. Then as soon as I got home I went to a rock concert. My ears are still ringing. That's what'll happen when you're sitting the the 7th row. The Tragically Hip are the best Canadian band ever, put on a fantastic show that was well worth the nearly $300 I dropped on tickets. And I still think so even though they didn't play my favourite song of theirs (see below). The tickets were so close to the front that when Gord Downie went for a walk down the backs of the seats into the crowd, he came to our row and let people sing into the mic. Sweet.

To wrap it all up, I had another great but busy weekend. I can't wait to get to work so I can sit still for a while. As my mother used to say, I'll rest when I'm dead.


Friday, September 25, 2009

You can't spell smother without "mother"

I'm a mother in every sense of the word. Both the noun and the verb. Case in point:

I was on my way to the toilet at work (where I’ve barely been a week, keep in mind... the job, not the toilet) and there was someone coming out of the kitchen. Don’t get me started on the locations of both places. Anyway, this guy, who I’m sure I was introduced to but whose name I’ve promptly forgotten, came out holding a can of pop. He sheepishly said to me as I passed “I was thirsty.”

It was small talk because we were in a narrow hallway going in opposite directions so I’m sure he didn’t expect the (s)mothering answer I gave: “Well you should be drinking water, then. It’s better for you.”

Yaaargh! Really? This is a complete stranger at a job where I haven’t even been working seven days. But the comment came out just like I was talking to one of my kids. Obviously you can give a mother a full time job out of the house but you can’t stop her from mothering once she gets there. Mothers. Driving people crazy since the dawn of time. And she doesn’t even have to be yours. Or know you in any way.

Hoo boy…


Thursday, September 24, 2009

Want to know how much I love to bake?

Tuesday I worked an 8 hour shift, came home and ate dinner (reheated lasagne) and got to work. I baked a coconut cake but substituted coconut creme instead of coconut milk. Same difference, right? Wrong. The cake turned out to be a sweet, crunchy flat lump. I effed up. Royally.

The cake needed to be done by today and the rest of my week was crazy so Tuesday was it. I had all the ingredients I needed but the coconut milk so I ran out at 7:30 to go get some. I found it at the third (?!) grocery store I tried, came home and made the cake all over again. I finally finished the cake at 11pm. It was perfect. I was exhausted and frankly, a bit pissed off about how long it all took. I mean, I had to be up at 6:15 Friday and did I mention I missed dragonboat practice to bake too? But there was a kernel of something else too. Deep down there was a booger sized nugget of pride and happiness. Joy, even.

After all that nonsense I realize I must really love to bake.


Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Everybody's working for the weekend

Still getting used to the full-day working thing. My body’s getting better at it but my family is having a hard time adjusting. Questions heard most often at number 29:

Q (from take your pick): Could you make pizza tonight?
My answer: Are you kidding? It’s 5:30

Q (from Henry): Do I have to go to the neighbour’s today?
A: Of course

Q (from Henry): Why can’t you walk me to the bus stop?
A: Because I have to go to work

Q (again, take your pick): When is supper?
A: Around 7pm

Q (from any and all): How come we’re eating so late?
A: Because I can’t start cooking until 6pm

Q (from the man): What's for dinner?
A: What are you making?

It seems like dinner is the biggest issue here. I need to come up with simple meals that are healthy and quick. I can't believe they're already tired of hot dogs and KD. Looks like it's time to teach Audrey to cook. Hard boiled eggs just won't cut it.

But cooking is my thing. Of course I prefer making desserts, but I enjoyed the daily control of doing dinner. I shopped for it, decided what to make each day, and prepared it (usually from scratch). Now it's a frantic rush to get something (anything) on the table before 6:30 when the kids (and hubby) have various sports and events. Ugh. Things were so much easier when I could start cooking at 4pm. Oh well.


Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Am I going to have to be irritated for the rest of my natural life?

The other day on the radio I heard a car ad. Not a strange occurrence to be sure but here's what was: they kept referring to the upcoming car year as the "Oh-elevens". Uh oh. Is this going to be a thing because I hate it. It sounds ridiculous and illiterate.

In my life there are lots of things that bother me, among them; mascots, black pens and people using my towel; but this is beyond reason. And it'll last forever. I'll have to hear about the "oh-twelves" and "oh-thirteens" until they mercifully reach "oh-ninety-nines". And yes, I plan to live that long. So who do I lobby to get this stopped before it's too late?


Monday, September 21, 2009

Public service announcement

If you are in a pissy mood and someone says to you "It takes more muscles to frown than to smile", just reply, "bugger off, I need the cardio."

That one is a freebie, care of me.


Friday, September 18, 2009

Guess my age!

Last month we went to the Ex which was a farm exhibition back when the earth was cooling but now is an extravaganza of greasy fried foods and rickety rides on which to potentially forcibly expell those fried foods. It was a blast. We did everything we could. We did the aforementioned rides and "food", saw a terrific band (Bedouin Soundclash... if you've never heard of them, get thee to iTunes) and trolled the midway.

On the midway was a stall where a questionable "woman" claimed she could guess your age within 1 year or you win a toy. Well, me being the vain, egomaniac I am (fuelled but you people constantly telling me I look young for my age), I thought I'd try to stump her.

She looked me up and down and in 5 seconds wrote down a number on her little white board. She showed it to the gathering crowd then made me speak my age into a microphone (the greasy-haired sadist). The crowd started to whoop and holler. "I won!" I thought, mentally picking out the tiny stuffed ladybug. Then she turned the whiteboard around where it read "41". Dammit!! And I had just turned 42 the weekend before. I knew I shouldn't have shown up with my family. She must have seen my hubby and the kids and guessed it from them. Stupid family cost me my ladybug. Hmph.

What's that saying? A fool and her money are soon parted? That describes me and my loonie.


Thursday, September 17, 2009

I worked a full day!

Like a real life person. I took a lunch (salad, cottage cheese, a banana and sunflower seeds) and ate in the break room. There were other people there and I talked to them and everything.

I learned how to file invoices, and answer the phone and everyone was super nice. I even remember a few names (besides Aimee and Paula who interviewed me): Tom, Pierre, JM, Charlotte, Judy, Mike, Andrew, Randy... whew! And that's not even all the people. Of course I have no idea who the rest are. But I'll learn.

There was a scary bit when I had to look for an order for a client. The box wasn't where it was supposed to be but that wasn't my fault (thank you baby Jesus). Everyone is really patient and kind so I didn't even feel weird asking for an hour off next Friday when I go away for the weekend. Three words: Moms Gone Wild.

Anyway, I'm writing this just before 9pm and I'm just about done for the night. I don't know how people do this every day. I wasn't interested in cooking dinner (we had yucky hotdogs) and I can barely muster up a modicum of enthusiasm for Glee and that's really saying something.

Anyway, I really am pooped. I have to go to bed to be fresh for the rest of my workaday life. This stuff takes a lot of getting used to.


Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Romy & Michelle

So over the weekend my honey and I were watching Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion (don't ask and I won't lie to you and say that it's stupid and doesn't make me laugh like a drain) and it prompted us to talk about our own reunions.

When he went to his, he told me that he went to reconnect with old friends. How noble. Because when I went to mine, I admit that I went to lord it over my old friends. I said that like the girls in the movie, there's no way I would have wanted to go had I been in the same town, with a crappy job, and/or no hubby/boyfriend or kids.

He thought that was awful of me but I threw all womandom under the bus and claimed that there's no way another woman would go just to "reconnect with friends". But then I realised that I shouldn't speak for all women. So answer: would any of you go to a school reunion just to see old friends? Seriously. You wouldn't be delighted just the teensiest bit that you're more successful than a schoolmate? Come on, admit it. I won't tell...


Tuesday, September 15, 2009


RIP Patrick Swayze. For women of a "certain age", Dirty Dancing was on our list of the 10 hottest movies ever. And Partick Swayze was actually sexy playing air guitar. Unless you're him, don't do it.

And Ghost? Siiiiigh....


Monday, September 14, 2009

I heart dragonboating

Despite my ribs, I managed to self-medicate and make it to Carleton Place safely on Saturday morning. We had 4 400m races and miraculously my back (and front) didn't even give me a twinge.

I've never paddled a regatta where every race I was completely satisfied with my (and the team's) performance. I put a lot of pressure on myself since I usually sit in the front seat of the boat. I feel a lot like a goalie where the game hinges on him, win or lose. If I can get the strokes for the start, sprint, race pace, series, race pace and finish perfectly right, then I feel good. But I hadn't been able to get it right in practice and then I hurt myself. It seemed impossible. I know in my head it's not entirely my fault if we screw up but I always feel totally responsible.

Luckily I didn't have to worry on Saturday. Whether it was the drugs, the great weather, the aligned stars, the blueberry oatmeal cookies, the team atmosphere or the actual training, I finally got it. Every race was effing fantastic. We won every heat but one and came in second by just tenths of a second in that one. We were an all women's team and we came in second in that category. Silver bling! After the race we calculated that our average age is 45.6. The women's team that came in first trains all year long, has "boot camps" and an average age of about 25. I'm just saying. I'm not sure how we did overall but it was definitely top 20 in a field of over 40. For a bunch of mums and a few grannies, we did pretty good.

Did I mention we rock?


Friday, September 11, 2009

Hee. Ouch. Eff.

This rib thing is really getting to me. It's not so much the pain as the fact that I feel like I'm getting punished just for laughing. I'm a happy person. It's not a put on, seriously, ask anyone that knows me IRL. I laugh a lot. I'd like to think I'm a funny person (although I can't tell a joke to save my life). I had a friend Patricia years ago who'd only call me when she needed cheering up.

So having these torn ligaments (which got re-diagnosed to cartilage yesterday by the chiropractor, by the way) is really chafing my ass. Every time I giggle, chortle, chuckle, guffaw or otherwise express my joy and/or delight, I feel like I've been set upon by a well manicured gang whose weapons of choice are nail files that they drive between nearly all my ribs. Good times.

I'm on tons of meds since I'm due to stroke for my dragonboat team at a regatta tomorrow. I'm pretty sure there is no crying in dragonboat. I discovered that inconvenient fact during 2 practices last week where I spent an awful lot of time covering up the fact that I was bawling in pain.

Yesterday's practice was much better. My ribs were sore but (Yay!) no tears. Looks like I found the perfect drug cocktail. Two hours before getting on the water I rub my back and chest with Deep Cold then pop an Advil Liqui-gel, a celebrex, and 2 robax platinums. I'm the highest paddler on the water. Whee!


Thursday, September 10, 2009

Did I not say there would be fodder?

They offered me the job! I'd be a receptionist at a sales office. Cool. The only (and biggest) wrinkle? Childcare. I'd start work at 8:30 but Henry's school bus doesn't come until 8:55. He'd need care for about an hour. How sad is that?

If Henry was a girl I'd think about leaving him alone for the hour. Unfortunately, he's a boy and you can take that any way you like as long as it ends up that he can't be left alone. So, I have to find a caregiver who's willing to take him.

My friend Kathy had a great idea of having him stay home (he's going to be 10 in 3 months) but stay on the phone with him until he goes to school. Not bad...

Ideally I'd love for him to go to a neighbour who'd just watch him for a few minutes and push him out the door to his bus stop. They wouldn't even need to walk him there since the stop is only a few houses away. There's also a before/after school programme at his school but even though it's open to everyone, it's Asian focussed with about 90% of the students and all the teachers are Asian. Also, they speak Mandarin a lot, as well as learn chess and origami. I don't mind but Henry has a language processing disability even in english. But it is only for an hour.

Then there's after school where my idiot 13 year old Elliott will be looking after the kids for an hour and a half. The thought honestly gives me chills...

What to do? I can still turn it down but the thought of looking for something else makes me itch.


Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Job interview today

It's for a receptionist (I think... I really don't care, frankly, I just need to work) and I'll neeed all the luck I can get from you all. Why? Because I have no idea what a rItaliceceptionist actually does. However it turns out will certainly be blog fodder so stay tuned.


Tuesday, September 8, 2009

What a week last week!

Now that I have some distance to it I can laugh. Okay, maybe not laugh because laughing hurts my ribs, but smile ironically.

-I got downsized
- I returned my lovely Macbook to my former workplace (and finally said a proper goodbye)
- I went to the chiropractor who told me I had bronchitis and a bunch of strained rib ligaments from the coughing
- my modem blew up so no internet for 2 days
- The cable went out Friday for about 12 hours so no tv either

- I got my dead modem replaced pretty quickly
- I learned where the computer hotspots are in my neighbourhood
- I bought a lovely pair of shoes and 2 tops.
- I watched All My Children right when it comes on at 1pm
- I baked and did laundry and actually ate bonbons on the couch

Crunchy with the smooth, eh? They say that life works out the way it's supposed to but can I still say that I'm really happy last week is over? Onward and upward...


Monday, September 7, 2009

I forgot an anniversary... typical for the week

Okay, it's not a big one but as I said to the Audrey, if it wasn't for that one, none of the others would be possible. My husband, the house, the kids, the cat, my minivan, in fact, my entire life in Ottawa.

Friday the 4th was the 21st anniversary of the day I met my honey. We don't celebrate it in any way except to acknowledge that it actually happened. Usually punctuated with jokes (mostly tasteless) about how our lives would have been different had I chosen another bar at which to get shitfaced on that fateful night.

With all the craziness that's been going on, I completely forgot so Happy Anniversary, Dollface!


Friday, September 4, 2009


No connection to the outside world for me.

To add insult to injury, my modem blew up yesterday! I'm typing this in the parking lot of a community centre. Oh the indignity of it all. So needless to say, there may not be a blog Monday. Sorry peeps! The good thing is that if shitty things happen in 3s, then I only have one more craptastic event to look forward to.

Have a good weekend.


Thursday, September 3, 2009

I've had a bad cough for a couple of weeks

And trying to soothe it "old school" made me realize that as potent as Vicks smells, it still smells like being taken care of. It has a motherly, cosy, soothing and loved smell. It's like a mother's hug. A greasy, sinus opening, mentholated squeeze...


Wednesday, September 2, 2009

I got downsized

That was the big deal yesterday. In fact it happened at the end of the day Monday. It's embarrassing and it hurts. And of course I blog it for the world to see. Typical me.

I didn't even know how to say goodbye to the people that made my day every day for the past few months. I just slunk out of there with my tea bags and framed photo of the kids crammed in my purse. I felt later like I should have made a speech or something. I just didn't expect it. I was flummoxed. I've never been "let go" before. But I got some really nice notes from former co-workers (thanks Facebook) so after hours of licking my wounds and pouting, I'm feeling more hopeful.

It was no one's fault... my position was just made redundant. But the fact remains that now I need a job. Again. I have 3 kids (including one bottomless pit of a teen) to feed and a rusty old minivan with a quarter of a million kms on it. I can't go back to buying no name cheese again. It's vile. So is anyone you know hiring? You all know what I'm like. Hmm. On second thought, maybe that's not such a good thing.

Now let me get back to copying all my photos and music onto CDs. That may be the saddest part of all this. I have to return my shiny new Macbook and go back to the ancient, busted up cruddy laptop we have here in the house. It shuts down without prompting after about 20 minutes. Not to mention the racket it makes when it does, well, anything. Sigh. Isn't it easy to get spoiled by brand name cheese and brand new toys?


Tuesday, September 1, 2009


Not feeling too chatty or "sharey" today. In fact, I've been in kind of a funk the last few hours. I'm sure I'll be my usually cheery self soon but today I just feel like brooding. In my jammies. Maybe even under the covers. With a big bag of Doritos. I'll explain tomorrow, peeps, don't worry, I'm fine and so is everyone. Really.