Out of Water

I was born at a very young age in a galaxy far, far away – not a Ford Galaxie, that's probably where I was conceived (did you see what I did there? Ford actually made the Galaxie, and they existed at the time of my conception. That's called "research".) Actually, it wasn't all that long ago, and it was less than a mile from where I sit right now (crap, it's more like 5 km. What is that in dog years? I'm tired of research). I've lived here about 99% of my life (sunovabich, you're going to make me calculate this, aren't you? K: 3/41=7% of my life *not* living here. I'll take this opportunity to say "look waaaay up. What does that banner say?")*

Alright, so you'd think I belong here. But some of the typical conduct of my fellow citizens leaves me flummoxed. Here are but a few of the things that highlight how I may not belong here.

I:

• Don't vacate the city for the lake every summer. Yes, I need a second whole household to maintain and manage, because clearly I have too much time & money
  
• Hate the Guess Who. As in, *hate*. Can't stress this enough. It may or may not be that I've manufactured this entire post in order to be able to state that.
  
• Don't hate Toronto. More indifferent. And pity. They *so* want to be a world city. Not going to happen. This is Canada. That would be grandstanding.
  
• Didn't swoon over IKEA's announcement to open here (disclosure: already own everything, which makes me a good, cheap Winnipegonian; disclosure #2: I'll be there - with my paycheque in hand – the day they open; disclosure #3: I may have emailed them about it back in the day)
  
• Don't hijack any discussion of Neil Young with "he's from Winnipeg, you know". He left. I'm over it.
  
• Know where my turn signal lever is and know how to use it. And do. But not for hours at a time.
  
• Can use an acceleration lane.
  
• Don't make monthly shopping trips to Grand Forks (disclosure: Girls' GFF Weekend. Not my choice destination, but hey, I can spend money. And hey, it's my GFFs!)
  
• Don't pine for the Jets and hyperventilate when the league utters the word "expansion". They're gone. Get over it. In fact the only *possible* way to get them back is to let them go, move on and grow as a community until we earn them on our own merit. And for the love of Christmas, don't fucking call them "The Jets" if that miraculously happens. How about: The Wholesalers? Eh? Eh? Nice ring to it.
  

I've got about 15 or 200 more ways that I don't or haven't fit in to the various groups and communities I am either forced to, or really want to be a part of. What of you?

*And, ok further: a goodly chunk was spent just outside the city – some might call it "the country" – but really, our community was here, as it sure as hell wasn't out there. I have a long history of not fitting in. Also: damn right I double count that time as time toward my God-given right ability to call myself a country-girl. It probably landed me a husband, so I can't let it go now.

Paring

Pepper's last soccer game was Wednesday evening. The previous evening was Norah's last game. Both were, for some reason, the continuation of the spring soccer season.

That was it for the programmed activities for our kids for the foreseeable future. At least until the New Year, or until I scream "FUUUUCK YOU NEED TO BE SOMEONE ELSE'S PROBLEM FOR AN HOUR!", whichever comes first.

Last year's activities included:

Norah: Piano (half-hour lesson once a week, plus practice every day), Guitar (half-hour lesson once a week, plus practice every day), Dance (one-hour lesson once a week), Squash (one-hour lesson once a week), Soccer (one-hour practice once a week, plus two one-hour games per week at various locations around the city)

Pepper: Piano (half-hour lesson once a week, plus practice every day), Basketball (one-hour practice once a week, plus a one-hour games each week at various locations around the city), Dance (one-hour lesson once a week), Soccer (two one-hour games a week)

Stewie: Soccer (two one-hour games a week). For some reason (probably him NOT constantly badgering to join things), we didn't have him in much.

It was too much. We were constantly going. We started using Google calendar because between Max and me and one car, we had to strategize and analyze the logistics of every single evening. Including weekends. The kids – separately – said "Mom, we're too busy".

How did we get into this? We're not "those people". We always swore we wouldn't over-program our kids. We mock "those people". But there's just so much that's interesting. So much that we feel they should learn. Dance for flexibility and coordination. Basketball / Soccer for team-building and discipline. Music for brain-wiring and math skillz. And they asked for it all, were enthusiastic (at the beginning) for everything.

But while they liked dancing, they didn't love it. The team sports were fun, but none of them (so far) have the bloodlust I can see in other players the same age (as soccer players, they'll make great cellists). Maybe they will later, but I'm not willing to tear at their little souls to get it now.

Music is even more difficult to ditch, as both the girls have actually been advancing fairly rapidly. Plus, we bought a whole mother-fucking expensive piano. Norah, after (Guitar Hero induced) begging to take guitar lessons all summer last year, got exceedingly belligerent and ornery (I mean more than normal) after only about a month. We forced her to stick out the entire year (until June – acquiring Guitar Hero at Christmas may or may not have bought a little time). She was (and is) actually amazing. Her teacher – a local rock-star himself – commented on her skill and potential (I think he was also secretly a little jazzed to have a nine-year-old girl asking him to teach her Metallica's "One" and AC/DC's "Thunderstruck")

So, we quit. Everything. This fall and winter we are going to do some one-off family stuff. Skating. Movies. Skiing (hey, we may be in the flattest area in the FREAKING WORLD, but we've got a lump or two suitable for kids. And me. And there's always cross-country) And looking forward to some unprogrammed time. There is much to do to regain control (assuming it's "regain" and not just "gain", but either way). I hope to be able to document some of it here, but don't hold your breath. Cleaning up and gaining control of this cluster-fuck we generously call a blog is unfortunately not terribly high up on the list. But since I enjoy whining sharing here, look for continued, random brain-farts!

Paring down is only step one. I hope it works. What do you think?

Watch This Space

We'll call this one "BEFORE".

And it's the source of all my whining this week (other than the cold, of course) as well as the project of my "staycation".

Also? Anyone who mentions The Basement or inquires on the progress on The Basement will be banned for life. You've been duly warned.

Back to Nature (there's dirt there, I swear)

Time for an update on the outside world. Stewie saw me going outside with the camera, so he took over first:



[take special note here Wylie, that red stuff in the background is the bergamot we were discussing early in the season]

And then I wrestled the camera from his hands and got him to sit still (you can't see it here, but I put velcro on his butt):

Chartreuse? Pear? Pistachio?

We're pretty green, but pretty much everything we do is for another reason.

* We use a "reel" mower because Max doesn't want to deal with gasoline (I threatened that if he dies, the first thing I'm doing - assuming it's summer - is buying an electric mower)

* We drive one car because it's too expensive for 2 for our needs.

* We compost - again, Max liked the challenge and now it's a habit

* We don't use weed killer because I've found they just don't work on dandelions like pulling them out. Or any other weeds for that matter

* We don't drink bottled water because it's just too expensive considering it's basically tap water that someone else bottled (this was hard, since it's sooooo convenient - and actually got me drinking water regularly) Cost of bottled water (cheapest I've found): appx $0.1275/L; cost of tap water: $0.003111222/L. I could get 41 bottles of tap water for one bottle of the cheapest.

* We use reusable grocery bags... sometimes. We've got about a dozen of them, but if they make it to the car *I* usually forget them there & don't think about it until I'm at the checkout. My weaselly solution is that I give the plastic ones to my sister to reuse as dog-poo-bags (sorting out the ones with holes in them is up to her!)

* We've got a front-load machine, but only because less water saves $$
[have been planning to replace the toilet for years. Let's see: 7L - current 13L toilet - 6L "green" one - x 15 flushes/day x 365 x about 4 years we've been "meaning to" X $0.003111222/L = $477 wasted since we figured it would be a good idea. Can't recall the exact time; have never counted number of flushes; didn't account for leap year! Also didn't account for many times using the 3L flush which would make our 7L difference 10]

* I, um... drink wine from the box. Because there's um... much less... um... packaging.

* I bring stacks of (printed one side) paper home from work for the kids to draw on. THEN (depending on the artwork) it goes into the recycling. This is a cheap thing... Do you know how much art these kids produce?

On the other hand:

* I don't give a crap about watering my lawn & garden (i.e. I'll do it) - don't bother selecting low-water plants.

* I will usually drive if I can.

* I will usually turn up the heat if I can get away with it. Put on a sweater you say? Yes, I'll do that. And then I'll turn up the heat anyway.

* I live in urban sprawl. Yes, it is an "older" (beautiful) neighbourhood and the anti-sprawl crowd for some reason looks favourably on my 'hood. But the lot sizes are the same - and sometimes smaller - in what "they" generally consider to be the blight on our urban environment [the evil suburbia]. Also, because I have a back lane AND a sidewalk AND a front street (and grid is not the most efficient layout of pavement to reach every property), I consume more infrastructure than I'm generally given credit for. If we're talking density, I'm not in a particularly dense area. Screw 'em all. I like my neighbours, but not in my lap. Subject for another post? If I get around to it [ha!]

Anyone else a lazy shade of green?

The one where a bicycle factory exploded on our street

And all the kids ran off because
"HEY! THERE'S SOMETHING SHINY DOWN AT JAKE'S PLACE!!!"
(there's never anything said on the street that is in anything less than a screaming voice.)

Four

I thought Norah was Gigantor, and then Pepper was my delicate little princess at 7 lb 7 oz. Stewie brought along yet another anecdote to put in the file labelled "THERE ARE NO PATTERNS, STUPID", weighing in at 9 lb 3.5 oz (evidence to the left)

This was the first time, of all three that at the exact moment of birth I uttered "thank GAWD that's out of me". There may or may not have been expletives.

Also: "Hey look! A boy!", as we were rather expecting a girl. For no other reason than, um, patterns. With three kids & two engineers - constantly looking for patterns, don't you know - the file is getting full.

He was born ON his due date, making him a "ten-percenter".

One year later...

And additional three...

He wants hot-dogs for supper. And Shark-bite bay Trick-Trax for a present. I have no idea what that is, but we can do hot-dogs.


Mostly, I include this one as it's a good depiction of those *freakish* eyelashes. You know, the ones girls pay thousands of dollars to have implanted.

Happy Birthday, Boy!

How to Bild a Tiyr Swing

Pepper came up with this plan all on her own and showed it to me (click on picture to get more detail)

I was particularly impressed with her ability to sketch out a plan.

The only flaw I could see (which of course I pointed out to her because I'm like that), is the absence of a large cantilevered strong horizontal post upon which to fix all of the above plan. She seemed unfazed.

Unorganized Thoughts on a Block Party

We had a block party on our street yesterday. It was a wonderful thing in that is was not so much DISorganized as it was just NOT organized.

That may sound on the surface like a criticism - which given that I did *absolutely* nothing to make it happen would be not only completely unwarranted and even rude, but would legitimately earn me the title of "That Neighbour" (you know the one) - but it is most certainly not. One neighbour had to go around with a petition getting support to close the street; one had to arrange the closing of the street c/w city councillor support (= funding the $250 permit - thank you councillor!) to do it; one ran around putting notices in mailboxes. Easy peasy. Even I could do it (y'know, if I wasn't such a lazy tool). Message? "Bring a lawnchair & a snack to share."

There was a couple of tables set up that ended up being full of watermelon, pineapple, a zillion bags of chips; wagon wheels & several kinds of homemade cookies. One genius super-mom (the "my-hero" mom on the block that is always doing cool stuff with her kids - and sometimes mine!) pulled out a kids' picnic table and had cookie decorating and playdough (not sure which I got when Pepper gave me a "specially decorated cookie" the playdough and sprinkles happened to be the same colour). Kids were occupied when they got bored of biking / rollerblading / scootering down the car-free street (which they didn't seem to!)

We just sat & visited. Hung out, if you will. No one tried to make it *perfect*. People just don't get too many low-key, high-Q moments any more.

My big contribution turned out to be the moment I said "hey, we need music" and pulled out the iPod and sound dock.

There's something kind of unexpectedly unnerving about bringing out your own music selection. I hadn't really considered that in all the various conversations I had had with my (wonderful) neighbours over the years, there is always a part of yourself that you hold back. I said "screw it" and set up the sound dock.

I announced "I play all kinds of music for my kids and have explained to them that there are plenty of songs with bad words in them and ideas/expressions that they will not necessarily understand and they know they are not to repeat things that are swears and that they don't understand the meaning of. If any song needs to be skipped, let me know and I'll skip it."

No one did. The only song *I* skipped over was "I see you baby" by Groove Armada, as it has a very prevalent "Shakin' that ass" line repeated. That one has taken a very focussed effort on our part - including threats of losing things - to ensure our children don't chant it. I thought I wouldn't put everyone else through that.

The only time I thought it was maybe too loud and tried to turn it down, I got yelled at to not touch it. So, success.

My favourite work-nerd moment was when the kids pulled up the crack-sealant in the road and were using it as a giant, tar skipping rope.

Me: "Dammit kids! You've compromised the integrity of the pavement surface! Now water will infiltrate to the substructure and undermine the supportive granular base layer. Accelerated deterioration is the natural consequence" [crickets]

Neighbour Kathy (aside): "Dude, leave work at work."

Me: "Also, your hands are all black from playing with tar"

Neighbour Kathy: "eww"

-------------
I wrote this earlier today but was not happy with how it all tied together. I just opened it up and decided "If I just add the words 'Unorganized Thoughts on a' in front of the title, it will all make sense!" *genius*!! So I'd better post it before my "yesterdays" don't make sense any more.

...Summer...?

...is that you?

Wowzers. You sure took your sweet effin time this year. Assuming this is you, of course.

Max & I were yesterday negotiating the day's chauffeuring duties - two dance classes for "picture day" [which only meant that there was extra fruffing to do just prior, and of course for some reason, having two girls in no way commits a man to know anything about putting in a pony tail. In fact, neither of us know how to do a French braid, but for some reason I am the one who needs to learn how to]

I said that I had a whole bunch of plants to put in the ground, as we received them from the girls' school on May 5th and they weren't doing very well in the dining room. We had lost several already.

He said "you're going to risk it out there?" I said "it's actually the frost day today" (May 23 is the statistical day when you can expect that there will be no more overnights below zero around here). He laughed at me. I responded that while, yes, the "summer" weather might be another bluff, they were probably better off taking their chances "out there" than with me. There was no more discussion on the point.

So yesterday and today were beautiful. I don't know the actual temperature, but I didn't have to wear three coats (fleece jackets, come on). I planned & planted & moved some stuff around. I checked the tags for height & spread (I always plant things way closer to each other than they say to, but I like to know how badly I'm breaking the rules) & dug stuff in. unfortunately, it still looks like a cluster-fuck. But it's another in the long list of things that I love to do and would be very good at if I would bother to focus any energy on them, but I don't so I suck at them but I still enjoy doing them.

So, remember the beach party? Well today we were finally able to take it out doors.

Giving the whined/begged options of:
(a) Super Soakers [I'd probably get wet - I hate getting wet];
(b) Blow up the pool [Hella-effort, minimal payoff. Also, I'd have to stand there the whole time, because of the, y'know, five inches of DEATH sitting there in the yard and all];
(c) Sprinkler [I'd definitely get wet, because I was trying to work there]
I chose (a), because I could make them all (army of neighbour kids involved too) go & have their Epic Battle on someone else's lawn. OUR yard would be the "neutral zone" (for refilling - brilliant, eh?)

My favourite thing I yelled out? "You can't have a water-gun battle and then complain about getting wet!" It wasn't to any of my kids, but it could have been.

And then the requisite sun-bathing afterwards. Please ignore the brown patches in the "lawn". We're working on that. Not very hard, but we're working.

Also? Tulips need Super Soaking. It's a known fact.

[I had a lovely shot of Pepper lounging on her beach blanket. Somewhere in editing this, it got eaten. The replacement is all the way downstairs. By the pose she was striking, it only really shows how much of a handful she will soon become & I don't need any more reminders of that than I already have]

Victory Is Mine

I Overcame:

Other than the obvious, this is especially relevant, since our VCR hasn't worked in about three years.

Also, and quite seriously, I don't think we ever watched the end of the video.

Filthy Furniture

Whilst our basement is being finished, we've had to contend with extra crap orbiting around us in the living zone, as opposed to the dead zone of a basement storage area. You should know that this temporary project was started when I was pregnant with Stewie [he turns four in June. There are still drainage trenches in the floor of our basement].

We had a collective melt-down a few weeks ago and have decided to tackle some of the worst areas & the entrance was this week's project.

Here is before & after for the hats/gloves/bike helmets' hole:

(Pepper has already decorated her own basket).

It's your basic pressboard-assemble-yourself-hope-it-lasts-a-year crap from Rona. It looks OK, but, whatever. It controls the flow of crap. Hopefully.

Most importantly, it afforded Max & myself the opportunity to have a perfectly innocent conversation in the dining room, with the charmingly innocent children surrounding us.

Me: I need some help with the screwing.

Max: I can help you with screwing.

Me: OK, that's good. I just needed it started.

Max: That's fine. I'll just watch you finish.

Me: You like to watch?

Max: Yes. I like to help you start and then watch you finish.

Me: You realize I've been in here screwing without your help for the last half hour?

Despite it being a cheap piece of crap, I think it's suddenly become my favourite piece of furniture.

Tip-toe

Hi there Harmzie, it's me, Spring. Sorry I'm late:

NOW GET THE FUCK TO WORK:

And if you could get on that before the grass rots away under the mulch, I'd 'preciate that. Thanks!

Also: I plan to rain on Friday, so sooner would be better. Enjoy!

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.

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...

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...

I Heart Garbage Day

I know it's a horrible symptom of our throwaway society, but I love garbage day.

It's not that I like disposing of stuff. It's more the feeling of letting go. Even if it is garbage. I prefer giving my excess stuff to Canadian Diabetes, who comes and picks it up on pre-defined days. I have a personal policy of never saying no when they call, even if I can only cobble together one bag, so I am regularly purging in a good way.

But I have categories. Stacks and stacks of things "organized" (if you can call it that) into distributable piles: (1) Clothes from my #1 to my #2; (2) Clothes from my #2 to my #3 (the boy-appropriate stuff); (3) Stuff from my #2 to Nen's girl (that would be the girly stuff!); (4) Baby stuff that never made it to another baby, but my baby sisters & my own pack-rattedness (I get to make up words in Harmzieland) won't let me release to the rest of society - it's to go out to the farm; (5) Bigger stuff ("furniture" & small appliances, that they won't take on pick-up days) to go to Goodwill (6) Hazardous waste (paint, etc) - the depot's open when? I think last Saturday of the month... or is it the first? That is just the stuff on the move. There are many other categories & piles.All this stuff is on the way out and about and all requires one more (major) step to get it all the way out the door.

But Garbage Day comes every week.