8 freakin' hours

So I've decided to give something crazy a shot:

8 hours of sleep. Funny how having a conversation out loud makes something seem so obvious. "Just go to bed earlier" he said. So I am.

For one week, I am working backwards from my get up time and making every moment from the time I get home about getting in bed at the magic 8-hour mark. Keeping up with this whole blogging thing is suffering, but I keep jotting down ideas & fleshing them out little by little.

Planned for the near and possibly distant future:

• Fish Tails (we've kept some of them alive for over a year!)


• My To Do list (everybody's got em)


• My Crackberry Rules of Engagement (I'm a n00b, but I don't want to be "that guy")


• Flashbacks (ooo, there's an original one. Don't eat the brown pixie stix)


• My Filters (you have no idea what's stopped at the gate. Be thankful)


• Fambly Intros (they've never been properly introduced!)


• Any other brain farts that come my way.

I'm off to bed. Goodnight!

Winter Protest

Toward the end of the Christmas break and in the middle of the first nasty cold spell (we're in another now, but so far it's not quite as bad), we awoke to a plan afoot.

From the billows of my warm down duvet and through the gossamer haze as I emerged to the conscious world I heard: "We need some sticks to make posts for the signs" and: "we can put our coats on and march on the sidewalk".

Uh... What? That can't be good.

So up the stairs came the questions: "Mom! Dad! can we have some sticks to put our signs on?" Requirements for sticks for a project is never a good sign.

"For what?"

"For our protest![1] We're tired of winter and we want to have a Beach Party!"

Oh. Well that makes perfect sense now.

It turned out that it was too effen cold to go outside to protest and I didn't even have to get into the logistics discussion of "who, exactly, are you protesting to?" (and more importantly, I didn't have to get sticks). Although, in the interests of just getting fresh air (relax, they wouldn't have actually stayed outside for more than 30 seconds) I probably wouldn't have bothered to fight it.

So we decided to have a Beach Party anyway. [That's an extremely loose interpretation of the term "we"]

We prepared snacks and drinks for our beach blanket. [Also a stretch of "we". This time - probably obviously - in the other direction]

And we went swimming in the pool - a blue blanket on the floor ["we" is used correctly here]. We practiced the safe way to dive into a pool that has pretty severe surface tension.

And then we sunbathed. We had all donned our bathing suits. When asked why I didn't *actually* have mine on, my response was that my imagination was just more advanced than theirs and I didn't need the physical manifestation of their metaphysical world[2].

I have no idea whether that actually makes sense, but they didn't challenge me and that's all that matters.

Well. That and we all had fun.

[1] Unasked and therefore unanswered throughout this was: "where did this notion of 'protesting' come from?" I don't recall the idea of civil disobedience ever coming up (disobedience, oh yeah, but never civil). Just chalk it up with the others in the long line of "how the hell did you piece THAT together" that started about when Norah began speaking and I imagine won't really end.

[2] OK, so I'm usually not warm enough to put on my bathing suit in the "worst" of summer (sorry, but for some reason, my brain will not come up with any decent adjectives to describe an unpleasantly hot summer day! Can't imagine why), I sure as HELL am not going to do it when I am in visual range of a snow bank - even if it is on the other side of these triple-paned beauties.

Nobody's Fool

[Edit: I should point out that I lifted this from my cousin's Facebook page. Thanks KT! Love ya!]
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press >> button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
4. Tag friends: Nen, wyliekat Go!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "ARE YOU OKAY?" YOU SAY?
Closer to Madness
[Jesse Cook]

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
I Have the Touch
[Peter Gabriel]

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Fire & Ice
[Pat Benetar]

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Tight Rope
[Kylie Minogue]

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Shut Up & Drive
[Rihanna]

WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Right Here, Right Now
[Fatboy Slim]

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
She's Come Undone
[Duran Duran]

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Proud Mary
[Tina Turner]

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
The Calling
[Santana/Eric Clapton]

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
The Lady Is A Tramp
[Frank Sinatra]
I can't make this stuff up!

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
I Had a Dream
[Audience]

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Ice Cream Man
[Van Halen]

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Kickstart My Heart
[Mötley Crüe]

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Whiskey Bar
[The Doors]

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Have a Drink On Me
[AC/DC]

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Enjoy the Silence
[Depeche Mode]

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Buttons
[PCD]

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Lazy
[Deep Purple]
This one doesn't really work, since it's not exactly a secret.

WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
Secret
[Maroon 5]
This one also doesn't quite fit, since what I really want is Maroon 5. Well, some of it.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Bizarre Love Triangle
[New Order]

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Nobody's Fool
[Cinderella]

The Predatory Feline Blues

So, Max & I goes to a blues show the other night. It's Sue Foley. It's in the "Ukrainian Labour Temple". Not knowing anything about the location or organization [or, uh, bothering to Google it], my brain is grappling with the notion of those three words cobbled together [yes, I know I'm sitting at a computer. Shut up. Look it up yourself and flame me in the comments. I find it more fun to grapple with that combination of words]. It is in a - hmm how shall I say... - "challenged" part of town. (I find myself pleased that we park behind a Lexus, because it makes our modest little Camry seem like less of a target)

Not the point. The show is awesome. What an amazing guitarista. Vocalist. Band. All of it. I want to buy a CD (or some), but decide I'm too drunk to make a decision and should just buy one on-line. [No, I haven't done it yet].

Also not the point. We are *among* the youngest there. The actual youngest are notable in that they are very "active" i.e. dancing. Not that there's anything wrong with that. That's just distinctive about them. They *really* like the blues - enough to hang out with folks who are decidedly not their crowd. We're still at the lower end of the bell curve. Several standard deviations south of the median age.

Also, not exactly the point - but getting closer. The point: There is a bar [OK, that's not the point - we are getting there]. The bar is at the back and on the other side of the room. Max gets up several times - mostly at the start and early part of the show to get us some drinks [most of our marital roles have more to do with who's least lazy about a particular task than anything gender-defined - I happen to be most lazy about a LOT]. The last time, during the set break, he sits down and puts my drink down in front of me.

"Man" he says. "It's like running the gauntlet to get that drink"

"What? Why?" Says me.

"The ladies. At this age, they don't even pretend to be subtle anymore."

"Oh, whatEVER!" [Yes, schmoopsie. You're desirable.]

(Not even cracking a smile) "Oh no. I'm not imagining this."

"Yeah? Ask BJ" Coworker/friend of mine. Essentially the same age as us.

"Oh, he'll agree, so no. I don't have to." So I shake my head [again: whatever] & lean across to talk to my boss's wife. Seconds later, Max whacks me in the shoulder. I turn around to see BJ with eyes wide open, howling with laughter.

"OH Yeah! NO doubt!!!" says BJ. It was literally seconds. No time for a set up. Not really Max's style either. Nor BJ for that matter. Both middle-aged Mennonite boyz [honest & honourable]

"I knew I wasn't wrong. I just needed to prove it to her" says Max. [Follow: lots of shared banter between Max & BJ about being just "meat" - not even "fresh meat" - about the desirability of not having to dial 911 for when they're "done"... etc - I go back to my boss's wife and continue an intelligent conversation about Sue's gorgeous knee-length leather boots...]

The boots in the photo above? They're sitting in the row next to us. Probably jumped out of the Lexus. I hope I never have to drive a Lexus.

Rake my Roof

So Max went out to rake the snow off the roof today.

There's absolutely nothing interesting to say about that. I was not home to take suggestive photos and Max refused to stage them himself for my exploitation enjoyment, but I am weak and unlike my former post where the notion came before the juvenile-but-irresistible title, this one came to be without a fascinating story to go with it.

So the risk of ice damming is minimized for another snowfall. Yeah. Think about it.

How to make Cinnamon Toast

... I couldn't even elicit a really cute version of "cinnamon" (i.e. "cimanum") from any of my kids. They have speech "quirks" (esp. the three-year-old) but not with this one. Not when I need one for my blog... Maybe I'll work on a really cool post involving "luninum"!

1. Toast the toast
2. Butter the toast to the edges
3. Slather on a judicious layer of brown sugar (not too judicious) to the edges
4. Sprinkle a very light dusting of cinnamon (that's starting to not look like a word anymore, even though spellcheck sez "okey dokey!")
5. Do steps 1-4 quickly & remove your fingers because once the vultures are circling, you could easily lose them (the fingers).
6. Make them brush their teeth (you can easily jump to this step, because they have inhaled it so fast that there isn't any point in waiting.)

Just the thing on a frosty winter day. Max would say that the "to the edges" part is just my hang-up. He might be right, but screw him. It's my recipe, and *I* think it's important. Unfortunately, I shared the method with Norah and she can reach the brown sugar. Fortunately, soon there won't be any...

Winter Wonderland

At a particularly bitter point of this winter (this morning I woke up & checked the radio & radio's website to see if my kids' school was cancelled due to windchill - it wasn't. I still had to go through the excruciating process of waking them[1]), I thought I'd reflect on the beauty of this season. That is, in photos where you can look at it without having to experience the inexplicable.

People are not supposed to live here. To the pioneers that were forced to sustain themselves in this place for the first winter: "Take a frikin' hint, people!" You didn't even have a thermostatically controlled climate management system! Hot water! Flush toilets! Huggies! Tim Hortons! Magic bags! I suspect politics were involved, or someones manliness ("That Thom Selkirk thinks he's so big... says I couldn't last a winter out here... well fuck him and FUCK THEM ALL!! I'll show them" Yeah. Thanks for that bud)... But I digress.

Nenette bugged me inspired me to do this a while back when she posted her winter yard photos.

Here's my street. I love a fresh snow fall.

The front yard with enough even snow to be clean & beautiful, and enough footy prints to look like someone lives here (as opposed to just resides):

And last but not least, my last hangers-on[2]. The last vestiges of evidence that, yes, at some point in the not-too-distant future, life will spring forth from this GODDAM BARREN WASTELAND.

[ahem] I'm going to go warm up my magic bags and crawl into bed...

[1] Lest someone point it out to me, I am aware that I'm not even the one who has to bring them out in this madness to school. This morning one even asked me if I could give them a ride to school. "No" I said, I was already late for a meeting. They didn't bat an eye. Not a whimper. They got their dad's interior furnace genes, they did.

[2] In the past, I just chopped everything down in the fall to await regrowth in the spring. This year I read some crap about leaving it for "dimension and depth and to have it remind you of what's to come" (and some other load about a place for the birds). Personally, I feel like it's taunting me. Pretty impressive accomplishment for a dead plant...

Out of the mouths of ... uh... my kids

I'll be in a cold, cold grave before I call my kids "babes" in any context...

Exibit A:

Pepper: "Where do burglars sleep, since they don't have a place of their own?"

Kind of made me think about one's assumptions. To wit: I just assumed I always understood that burglary was not necessarily about need! More about asshat/dickwads with no respect for property/boundaries/values... I think I *might* have given a *teensy* speech about the difference between the homeless and asshat/dickwads. And I *might* have chosen more age-appropriate adjectives.

Exhibit B (OK, tonights are both Pepper's. Most of the way-out ones are):

Pepper: "When I grow up, I'm going to let my kids watch Hannah Montana"

[That's me: Cold, hard mom. Don't let the kids watch HM. "Beeeyotch!!!"
They'd say that if they knew that it would describe exactly how they feel about
it. It's not really a huge deal. It rarely comes up. The TV, if it's on at that
time of night will either have a movie or a Wii game on it (maybe Treehouse TV,
but that is becoming more and more rare)]

My response: "When you grow up, I'M going to MAKE your kids watch Hannah Montana". The return look said "what are you gettin at?" Oh yeah... messin' wit' da coconut...

R4te My R4ck

Did she just say that? Are things really taking a turn for the raunchy down Harmzie's Way?

Judge for yourself.

Before:

After:

Don't let the clock fool you. This did not take six hours. I managed to squeeze in a complete "Star Battle" on Mario Party 8. Blew away Bowzer & everything. Opened up a new level (got 15 minutes of credits afterward). The kids were thrilled. Which was why I did it, of course. Shut up. It was.

So uh, back to the point. What do you think?

I give it a solid six. In lay terms: it still looks like Hell, but the little demons are all lined up nicely and they've washed their faces. I mean, the spices are still sitting in the wettest, hottest part of the kitchen which, if you've spent any time watching Food TV (specifically Alton Brown >sigh<) you know is verboten.

I dream of individually labelled little stainless steel cups magnetted to a board inside a cupboard far far away (from the stove). But this was driving me nuts so I purged.

They're even alphabetized. I nearly melted when Max suggested this! Yes, it's possible I might have a problem.

And no, I did not invent a whole project to I could write a post called "R4te My R4ck". The brilliant title came later. And it's not even that brilliant, since it's not even a spice rack...

Not my best Mommy-moment

(but not the worst, either)

So just now, Norah just comes downstairs & says:

"Is Stewie 32 years old?" (wtf?)

"What? Why?"

"Well, he's been in a time-out for 32 minutes and..."

"SUNNOVABITCH!!!" (I think it was something like "auugghhh!!" But in my head...) This is what not using a timer gets me. Er, him. I had a 'quick' phone call to make and, hey, I'll just check my email... They were so quiet up there!

Yes, we subscribe to the One-Minute-Per-Year school of punishment. Other than being effective (for us & our kids), it has resulted in some humourous conversations, mostly occuring when I have done something that the youth faction in the household disapproves of:

"Mom, I'll send YOU for a time out! - 38 minutes!" (OK, so we haven't had
this conversation in a while)

"Sweet! Will you send me to my room? I'm THERE!
Wake me up when the timer goes off."

But back to Stewie. It's really serious to throw a book at your sister's head.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

[Edit Jan 9/08: photo that makes me feel a little better]

10 Favourites

Man, this took a long time...

10 Favorites

Season: Summer - it's construction season!

Color: blue

Time: 12:34. There's a stupid Facebook group called "I make a wish at 11:11". I want to join and tell them that they are all retarded and that the real magic time is 12:34 (I mean, LOOK at it!), but I don't think they'd see the light. They're all just beyond my help.

Food: Sushi. Pasta. Turkey dinner with all the fixin's (YOU can have all the rest of the fixin's, I just need the turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy & cranberry sauce)

Drink: Australian red wine. Some others are good too.

Ice cream: chocolate

Place: At home with everyone at home (second: at home with nobody at home, provided it's clean & there's no pressing "issues")

Sport: meh. OK, soccer. no, hockey. no, squash. meh...

Actor: meh. OK, Brad Pitt. Shut up! He's good! Shut up!

Actress: meh. OK, Cate Blanchett (kick ass Elizabeth II)

9 Currents

Feeling: time to go to bed

Drink: empty red wine glass (d'oh)

Time: 11:16

Show on TV: We don't have a TV anymore. We have a Guitar Hero display unit.

Mobile used: old Samsung flip. Very functional & does what I need it to, but I'm holding out for the Crackberry in spring...

Windows open: 4 Internet Exploder windows & my lookOut email platform (thanks to Albert for those monikers)

Underwear: what??? None of your business! OK, since it doesn't make me look too bad: Lululemon "boy shorts" & Victoria's secret some kind of push up thing. Oh yeah. It works for me baby...

Clothes: My Facebook status hints that I was in my pjs with bedhead all day, so this one doesn't make me look too good. It's late now, so pjs would be OK. Fleece pj bottoms are toasty

Thought: "Just crank out some answers & get to bed, dumbass!!"

8 Firsts

Nickname: Would come to close to revealing my true identity. Plus there isn't really one. One that's worth discussing. [Edit Jan 9/08: "Harmzie" - d'uh]

Kiss: Ick. I'm not going there. Suffice to say the super-mature boys in my high school had material for days (pretty long considering their attention span)

Crush: First *real* long-term one was one of the aforementioned super-matures. Probably long-term because I didn't have ANY kind of guts to pursue it (and thus get either affirmation or, y'know, closure - bitter cut-to-the-bone-painful kind of closure. Gee, why didn't I have the guts?) I didn't really have very good taste in crushes until Max

Friend: I'm not about outing people here, but I met her in grade 8 & it was the first time I discovered that people could like me for me. Kind of still wrestling with that...

Vehicle I drove: Drove? As in the first time I controlled anything large with a gas pedal? 1972 Dodge van (was a farm vehicle in an open field). First road-worthy (and I use the term loosely) vehicle generally considered to be mine? 1976 Toyota Corona station wagon (excellent durable vehicle despite the fact that it had practically no front quarter panel). First vehicle registered in my name? 1985 Chrysler LeBaron. Totalled that baby.

Job: Goose-tending-girl. Crappy, crappy job. Got good pipes though, hoisting all that grain in a wheelbarrow.

Date: Whoa. Too far back. Couldn't have been memorable. I think it was a movie.

Pet: a cat named "Glasses" I know. It's stupid, but I think I was, like 5 and I was under enormous pressure to name the damn thing. I looked around the room & saw my mom's glasses on a shelf and the rest is history. Including Glasses II & Glasses III (OK, so I wasn't very creative in that department)

7 Lasts

Drink: I've been out of wine (I know!!!) since before New Years, so Max just bought a box tonight. Where have you been, my precious darling??? I missed you so...

Kiss: Max just got back from Calgary last night, so... [bown chick bown bown] Oh, crap. It was actually Pepper's bedtime kiss. OK, so maybe I'm a little preoccupied with the return...

Meal: Mexicasa Taco Express (or some damn thing). Hey, Stewie ate a taco shell WITH MEAT & CHEESE IN IT!!! OMGWTFBBQ???

Website visited: blogger.com. Hello? Oh. Real website. Other than FaceCrack (or CrackBook, if you will), and LifeCandy (to cut & paste this), it would have to be Cracked.com. Sorry. Not very interesting today.

Movie watched: "Hancock" with Will Smith. It was OK, but not really challenging, y'know? Max suddenly realized that Charlize Theron is hot. Yay. Oh crap. That's the last movie I watched where I chose the movie (which technically, I didn't choose, Max did). The last movie I watched (like, 200 times since Christmas day) was actually Kung-Fu Panda.

Phone call: some squash date dude for Max (I should be more respectful. I think it was the guy that owns the store where Max got my awesome Christmas present - see photo at left). Filtering out all the "please buy my crap" (telemarketers) and "what time is dinner? What if we swap cars & bake half dinner here... etc" (my Over-Complicate-Things family, of which I am a full card-carrying & founding member) phone calls, it would have to be a nice long chat with my friend after her New Year's party (which she hosts the weekend after New Year's every year).

TV Show watched: I don't think I watch TV any more. I just commandeered the first season of "Arrested Development" from my folks and intend to watch that soon. Jason Bateman was one of the highlights of an otherwise bleak "Hancock" (see above). Other than that, I tried to watch "The Tudors", but found I wasn't intrigued as much as I had hoped and Henry's hotness (which was supreme, I'll tell you) only lasted so long... I find that a good brain-numbing hour is any of the CSI franchise. It's so bad it's good...

6 Have you ever...

...broken the law: That's what they're there for, no? (Oh wait. That's "rules", not laws... dang)

...been drunk: Do you even know me at all?? Of course I haven't.

...kissed someone you didn't know: I don't think so. There are far too many accounts of "kissed someone you didn't really want to", so I'm glad that wasn't the question. Then I'd have to get into the story of my first kiss, the old creepy retiring guy who said "I'm kissing ALL the girls before I leave" (FUKKETY that still pisses me off), the date-that-I-didn't-know-was-a-date-until-it-was-over in first year... That's about it, but it's far too many IMHO.

...been close to gun fire: Yes (grew up on a farm - the hunting, the rats, the cans, the precious antique cans)

...skinny dipped: Yes.

...broken anyone's heart: If the drunken slobbering ex-boyfriend blithering "I would have married you!" is any indication, then yes. But that's the only actual heartbreak "evidence" I have. There were countless others, let me tell you. when I pointed at Max and said "You. Me. Now." (Never mind that the post script to that is "who the hell are you?")

5 Things

...you can hear right now: Since I first read this item, my brain has snapshotted (have I mentioned that I get to make up words here?) a number of "what I'm hearing right now". The first time was the hum of the fan on my computer and that was it (my computer really needs the dust sucked out of it soon); the next six times had something to do with that fucking intriguing Guitar Hero... Right now, it's "Hit me with Your Best Shot" (at least GH picks good songs), 10 minutes ago it was "Talk Dirty To Me", which Max has been trying to master for a couple of days. The shrapnel of ear-worms has spread around the house and now my three kids run around our house singing "In the driveway; in my old-man's Ford; behind the bushes; until you're screaming for more more MORE!". At least I like the song.

...on your bed: uh... pillows? (Those ARE pillows)

...you ate today: Alton Brown's (he's my back-up guy if Max ever goes on a chef's strike. He knows he's replaceable too, so that's why I'm set for life) Home-made lemon meringue pie. OMFG it was good. (I made it, for the record - Max does the sustenance stuff, I do the fluff stuff.)

...you can’t live without: Home-made lemon meringue pie. Sorry. Lapse... There's nothing you can't live without. It's all about adapting. There are a number of things I would be devastated without, but "can't live without" suggests (to me) something like suicide should they disappear and I like to think that I'd not venture down that path. This also opens up the definition of "live" (like you'd be breathing, but would you really be "living") but then I think I'm overcomplicating the question a little (hey, it's what I do).

...you do when you get bored: I don't get bored because I never get enough done, so there's always something to do. But I surf the Internets a lot (I swear that will become a word if I have anything to do with it)

4 Places you have been today:

the bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement... yeah, I didn't leave the house either.

3 Things on your desk right now:

Only 3? OK, weirdest 3:

- Guardrail from Speed Racer slot car set (cheap piece of crap);

- Green paper crown from Christmas cracker (opened Sunday - yes, Jan 4. It was either bring them to dinner, or my sister was going to throw them out);

- "Steamboat Hardware Kit"- Max gets the weirdest shit in his stocking at the farm. I wish our scanner worked because the package is priceless. It depicts a wonderfully crafty little wooden boat - beautifully painted with the steamboat hardware embedded with it. In fine print, it states "wooden structure not included". On the side, some key quotations include: "...an ideal inter-generational project"; and "It requires only very basic woodworking skills, a few handsaw cuts and one drilled hole". Yes, I'm going to say that at the Emergency Room Desk...

2 Choices

Black or White: WTF??? I'm not falling into this racial trap. But I wear black a lot. But I wear white a lot too. Usually together. Side-by-side. In harmony. Oh, lord, why can't we?

Hot or Cold: Hot. I hate being cold. One time Max pointed out to me that I hate being too hot to (he says a lot of stuff about me being too hot, but I won't go into that)

1 Place you want to visit:

Italy. OK. I saw my cousin's photos from her trip last spring & I'm really, really jealous. Could be that it takes me back to when I was 16 & went to France for the summer (sounds so worldly, classy, extravagant & worldly, doesn't it? Well, it was all of those things. It was also the first time I kicked myself in the ass and said "you WILL do this" and then did it. The Eiffel Tower rocked pretty hard too.)

Stand back...

My Christmas present to my dad this year:

I'm just dying for dad to wear this the the next round of Clean Environment Commission hearings... (I have no idea if there's another round of CEC hearings)

For the record - #35 on Discover Magazine's top 100 Science stories of 2008. He's not personally listed, but he co-authored the paper. Them sciency-type-people, they know the score...

Personally, I think it's the nerd equivalent of People's "Sexiest Man Alive". I mean, like People, it's not like it's a *real* recognition from your peers (which he's received as well), but it's got WAY more mainstream coverage!

Oh, and it was made and hand-delivered by my secret crush: Randall Munroe at xkcd.com. (It is possible that part of that might have been me mixing up my waking & sleeping memories)

He's holding two beer because it was Christmas at the farm and everybody was doing it. Or he was just tidying up. There was a lot of both (having 12 people in an albeit large house for three days requires a lot of both), so I can't recall.

Suddenly Feeling All Naked & Exposed...

My mom caught wind of my Christmas card and wants to know what all the fuss is about.

So I considered a number of ways to go about this:

Option A: Actually mail her one - she is currently working overseas. To mail anything takes, I am told, six weeks. To get a Christmas card to her in time, I would have had to NOT pull the idea out of my ass on Friday, December 19; run to Staples at closing time; crank them out of the printer - including all the mailing & return labels; [hosted a major (for me) annual Christmas function]; scribbled some deeply meaningful & personal greeting on each one; instruct Max to deliver them to a Canada Post receptacle that picked up at 10 am (as opposed to the ones that only pick up at 5 pm) on the Monday; and rely on that Wonderful Canada Post to make me look like I didn't do a, b, c, & d. (They arrived locally TWO FULL DAYS before Christmas! The day after they were dropped in the box!)

In other words, I would have had to have been someone else. I come from a long line of Perfect Planners. People who get their Christmas shopping done in July. People who actually DO put meaningful & personal greetings on their Christmas cards (my definition of "personal" from above: I remember your kids' names. And mine). And get them to you in MID December. People who don't send their husbands out into the wilds on Christmas Eve saying: "Oh my GAWD!!! We left out AN ENTIRE KID!!!"

I'm pretty sure Grandma's mailman was not like that, and that line was - shall we say - interrupted. Just sayin'

Option B: Post it here - Yikes. Hi Mom! I have done the blog-equivalent of quickly scanning your apartment's living room for stacks of newspapers, stray underpants and empty vodka bottles in the time it takes to ride the elevator up from the entry buzzer to your door. For the record, that never happened (not with her anyway). I quickly scanned my entries so far. Fortunately, because I am a lazy ass, there weren't that many.

So here is the outside:

I stole [ahem] borrowed [grr] was inspired by an ad I saw for a company that will create & print cards for you.

Here is the inside:

I was inspired by the nuthouse peaceful sanitarium sanctuary in which I live.

Happy Arbitrary Day!

So another season has passed.

The children are nestled all snug in their... uh... couch, while visions of... Kung-Fu Panda dance in... their TV screen. Parenting at it's finest.

So I'm grabbing a moment that it seems I haven't had in about six weeks to reflect on the past & the future. I feel like that should be printed all wavy & spooky like it sounds in my head - with my arms waving around too. But I can't find an HTML code for that. OK, ok - I'm too lazy to *find* an HTML code for that.

2008 summarized - what I accomplished last year:

Not much really:

• Kept three humans alive and somewhat challenged (may have had some help with that one. Especially the feeding - some say essential in the whole "keeping alive" phenomenon). And they don't hate me entirely, depending on the day/moment/way the wind is blowing. The "bad mommy" is a new one. I mean, I always knew, but it was never said *out loud* until now y'know?


• Stayed married. Not sure which one of us this is a bigger accomplishment for. Depends on the day/moment/way the wind is blowing.


• Got a new job. When I started this, I promised I wouldn't write about work (I mean, that's just stupid). But this is about me, and the new job (same bat-office, I don't like my changes to be TOO massive!) was a seriously new direction with seriously new challenges. As I spent most of this past fall I sick in one fashion or another, Max pointed out that I was probably stressed. I'm not stressed, I said. I love my new job. But further reflection revealed that I am actually absorbing and processing an awful lot of information & with relatively little down-time (self-inflicted, I know). So, to kick you square in the ass, stress doesn't have to necessarily be the They're-All-Out-To-Get-Me-And-Make-Me-Fail-And-I'm-Going-To-Lose-It-All-And-My-Family-Will-Starve variety.


• Turned 40. So maybe I didn't do this and it's more something happened to me, but I like to think that I had some part in my *making* it this far. Plus, I think I handled it well. I mean you don't really have a choice in the matter (and it certainly beats the alternative), but some of my learned colleagues (IMHO) have not taken the beatings of time with such gentle grace & good humour as myself.


• Started a blog. woo hoo. I feel like I have joined the children's table at the Nerderati Banquet. Like I get to hear all the grown-up conversation even though I don't 100% get what they're talking about. Like I chirp up now and then and mostly get ignored, but once in a long while I happen to accidentally say something profound - comment the right random thing at the right random place and some grown-up gives me a pat on the head and says "good one!" People I know - though I love them - don't count. It's like your mom saying "good one, dear!" (Which, by the way, everyone still needs to hear, but it just doesn't take you away from the kids' table!)

This year:

• Get fit/Gain weight. Sorry, but it's true. Why is it that someone can come up to me and say "you're so skinny! I could just pick you up & toss you across the room. I hate you! haw haw!" If I were to walk up to someone and say "wow your ass is huge, how do you get through doors?" *I'd* be labelled the big nasty BeeYotch. But that's not why.

This is:

And this:

(omgwtfbbq???)

There's more I'm sure but after looking at these pictures, I'm done reflecting for a while. That's all the reason I need for pretty much everything. Happy New Year!