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.

kxx

Poo-Pourri

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.

kxx

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.

kxx

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…

kxx

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.

kxx

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.

kxx

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?

kxx