Well Red (not a typo)

So apparently this blog thing, like a pet (or so I would suspect) requires attention and feeding. Kids too, so all the books tell you. Or so other parents tell me the books say. Because, you know, the reading.

So I've been receiving nasty, passive-aggressive reminders from Blogging and Family Services [BFS - haw!] that it's time to attend to this dying pet before it gets taken away from me. And then I grow old alone -on the Internet - with no one to love me - on the Internet - and I have to rely on humans for contact. As an engineer, you can see the problem I'd have, so I'll be good!

So the outreach program outreached to me via my blogging mama Nenette. When Nenette tells me to jump, I say "how hi?" And she says "don't you mean 'how high?'" And I say "yes mistress" And so on. I think I might be digressing a little. Mostly, she knows I am a sucker for a meme.

This one has something to do with taking pictures of red shit. Well, not red shit, but shit that is red [hey, that's not better]. It would be helpful now if someone would shake me and say "you know you can edit this, right?", but I'm in kind of a stream of consciousness kind of mood. I'm so sorry. You can go if you want.

So here's all my red crap. I saw this meme and thought "Yeah!!! I LOVE red" and then looked around and saw that most of my home and wardrobe is black, white & brown (and variations)(well, of brown, since black and white are pretty well defined)

BUT it's those splashes of red that make me love that colour. [YES THAT'S A WORD!! Shut up Blogger, you let me have a google.ca home page, but you don't really mean it.]

So I gathered several of my favourite [THAT is a word too!!!] red things and assembled them on my bed. Please don't read anything in to that. It's just the tidiest surface in my home for taking pictures of stuff. I think it was supposed to be 7 red things. Turns out I'm either not good with counting, or not good with rules. Or lazy. Whatever.

Of course, every single one of these items has a story...

(1) Red bed sheet. When we moved into our house in 2001, I decided that Norah's room should have a simple theme of Primary Colours [I swear, Google spell check I'm going to fucking snap on you]. Well, just try and find primary coloured bedsheets. I did. This looks pristine, because it's never actually been used. I've only ever used the fitted sheet and a duvet with a cover, since that results in a bed actually being made every so often (I mean, by me).

(2) This is one of my very (very) few pieces of jewelery. I bought it from a former boss's daughter who brought back a bunch of jewelery from New Zealand (or Australia? I forget because I probably wasn't listening, I was drooling and groaning: "oooooo... preeeeeetty")

(3) M.A.C Viva Glam VI. At least I think it's VI. The two digits (they're roman numerals, so YES they're digits!) wear off, and I can not ever remember whether it's IV or VI. BUT as scary as those ladies at the M.A.C counter look, they know their shit! I walk in and say "I need a Viva Glam IV" and they kind of stare at my face and say (this has happened more than once) "are you sure it wasn't Viva Glam VI?" Like they know IV just wouldn't work for me. I DON'T EVEN KNOW THAT!!! So, yeah. you had me at Viva Glam whatever. It's the only colour I wear. If I'm going bolder, I do it with the lip pencil.

(4) This is possibly THE best -- game -- ever. I picked up Apples to Apples Junior because a friend/coworker recommended it, and was she ever right. With this game, a group of ALL AGES can have a seriously great time. The only real requirement is reading.

My family sets up nights to come over and play Apples to Apples with the kids (and we're allowed too). This game was so popular that one Birth/mas I picked the adult version for my sister. And no, it's not p0rn. It's just more mature themes. I want to just keep going about this, but maybe I should do a separate post. If anyone wants to provide ME with the grown-up version of the game, I could do a review? hmm? hmm? Wait. I already said it was awesome. I suck at this whole Internet marketing crap.

(5) This is one of my favourite shirts (blouses?) Way back when Jacob was only in Toronto & Vancouver, my then high-school-aged sisters were all "Waaaw! Jacob is AAALL that AND a bag of chips" and I was all "what the hell is Jacob?" (with it, I have always not really been).

So every trip that anyone ever took to TO, Vancouver or Montreal, was required to stop for souvenirs. So my dad did one time and dropped off mine & my sister's when she was living with me. It was this and a kind of plainish t-shirt (still very nice). He dropped off separate bags with instructions on which was which. When we opened them, we both (I'm sure) silently thought they had been mixed up because mine was WAY cooler and hipper than hers. But I just shrugged and quickly said "awesome!! I LOVE it!" And then she proceeded to borrow it any time she could! (Which was a fine trade). It's still in great shape and I even wore it last Saturday on my date with Max (whole other story: kids were pissed that we waste time on such frivolities)

So anyways, fast forward to Jacob opening locally and now it's pretty much the only place I can get clothes that fit me (they sell suits as separates, and go down to size OH LOOK SOMETHING SHINY!!)

(6) These are my notebooks.

The spiral one is where I write crap down that I have to get out of my head and I can't get on to our computers (yes, plural. I suspect it will get worse before it gets better). Also scratch lists, sketches of other posts that don't have form yet. Also, the beginnings of Rougie's requested nerd graph. It hasn't been forgotten. That's just how I roll. I'm not proud of it.

The *nice* notebook is the one that we are using to organize our lives. We started with family meetings (idea courtesy of Nicole, the Planning Queen) and putting our notes in a formal book. We've been lax with that for a while (though we have to revisit it, because it was a great thing to do), but we have been having regular planning meetings to map out projects or tasks that would otherwise just get done "later". We list a small number of accomplishable tasks like sorting through that pile of crap on the table behind me that's NOT staring me in the back of the head saying "What the fuck? A blog post? Are you serious?" I figure when piles of crap are talking to you, the best thing to do is pretend they aren't. Or start swinging at them with an ax. But I don't happen to have an ax (note to self: get ax).

(7) This is the suitcase; that carries the clothes; that Harmzie will bring; when she goes to Chicago; and meet up with her bloggie friends; and try an Irish Car Bomb for the first time (it's a drink, people... I think.)

If we decide that we have to bring the ball-gowns, the Victoria's Secret wings or the oversized inflatable Grey Goose bottle, I also have the next size up in the same colour.

(7a) (Late entry) Was inspired by Rougie's similar photo essay. Also by the fact that I'm pretty sure it's the same colour and brand. I KNOW!! It's like we were separated at birth. And 7 years.

This is my fave toe colour. Every time Margo & I go for a pedi, I think "I'm doing something different, and then I go with OPI's "Edinburgundy". Or "Vodka & Caviar". (Margo, incidentally, usually goes with "I'm Not Really a Waitress". I could totally be a waitress. Except for all the personabilty things. And the servitude. And the requirement to not say things like "get your own fucking water!")

There it is. Now the instructions tell me to tag a bazillion (yes, some duplication. But I really want to see your red pics)

AndreAnna @ Diary of a Modern Matriarch

McMama @ McMama's Musings

Nicole the Planning Queen

Marymac @ Pajamas & Coffee

Juli @ Wellington Road

Cass. Just Curious

Samantha @ Back to Me

Go, minions...

[sorry about the formatting. It did one thing with one batch of pictures and another with the other. The codes are like a mile long and I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT ANY OF THEM DO. So yeah. Totally zonked. Zonked means tired]