Wednesday, November 30, 2005


BwaaaAAck bwaack bwaack BWAAAcccKK!
Ya. You heard me. I called ya'll chickens. Nobody wants to win a free scary book, eh? Why? Just because it's about the scariest haunted house story EVER, and it showed up in my slightly haunted house without anyone ever remembering how it got there? What's spooky about that?
Ok, fine. But, Barabara was closest without going over. There was $75.05 in CanAYdian Tire money. I'm gonna make you a present, OK, Barbara. You deserve it.
I've got a lot going on right now. I really shouldn't be on this computer at all, but I don't care. It's my happy place.
The roof is leaking somewhere. I don't know where. There is no inside damage that we can find. But it's a hundred year old metal roof. And we can hear the dripping. The problem with metal is, you can't really pinpoint the sound. Me, personally.....well, I don't care. There are rumors and talks at hubbie's work that we'll be posted in a year, anyway. I say we watch for obvious damage and then sell this heap to someone else. (I talk like I don't love my house, but I really do. I know I'll never have another house like this. But it's an army wife thing. Don't get too attached, cuz ya KNOW you're gonna move) But, NO. Hubby won't sleep again till he fixes this leak. At least I convinced him we can at least try to do it ourselves, before we call the only roofer in town that will answer our calls, and who also completely rips us off because he knows he's the only one returning our calls. So, I think we will be removing the drywall from a portion of my bedroom tonight. Fun.
We have a Christmas party to go to on Friday night. Haven't been to one in years. And it's an army function. The only redeeming thing about these parties is the food. They are always well catered. The people though....well, there's a reason we live off base. Individually, army wives are great. I'm not good with them when they group together. Which is what happens, since the husbands all go get drunk and compare tour stories. My choices will be:
1. hang with the army wives and listen to them all bitch about military housing and their husbands careers
2. hang with the boys and pretend I have even the slightest idea what the hell they are talking about
3. hang by the bar and get really drunk
I'm leaning towards number 3.
Then on Staurday we have to go to the inlaws for dinner. And a second birthday. Sigh. It's nice of them, but I would prefer they forget it, like most inlaws do.
AND.....drum roll please.....I've been knitting in the round!

I know, not so exciting to the rest of ya'll, but I LOVE it. As I was finally getting it last night, I kept yelling "Holy Crap! Look at this!" So my husband would dutifully screw up his face and say "That's nice, what is it?" And I would say "I don't know! But it's round!"
I think it may be a legwarmer in the end. Who knows.
And that's about it. Sorry. No more ghost stories. No snow storms or floods. No rants or raves. I can't even talk about the Canadian election, even though I do nothing but talk about it in real life. (I have a 'no politics' rule on the internet. Too much yelling in capital letters) So, sorry. For boring ya'll. I'll work on that. Ya know. On being more interesting. Or at least drunk.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

A Hat and a Contest

I have an appointment at the CanAYdian Tire to get . Can't says as I ever gone to the CanAYdian Tire for tires before. Don't that beat all. But at least I'll get lots more of the pretty pretty money that they's likes to give me.
In the meantime, something pretty for ya'll.
A hat:

Nuthin fancy. Just a cute hat. Your basic crocheted beanie with a couple of flowers attached to the ear areas, along with some braided yarn. So you can tie it on, ya know. In case you are prone to losing hats. Or, you can let it dangle. Just for poops and giggles.
I'd write ya'll a pattern, but quite frankly, I haven't had enough coffee for that. If you really need one, let me know. I'll go off of public demand.
The yarn is Bernat Chunky. I got it from the fancy yarn store that we fancy folks around here like to call Walmart. Judge all you like. I had a gift certificate from my birthday. And I happen to like cheap yarn. Ya, you heard me. Cheap yarn. Wanna fight about it?
Just for fun, lets have a contest. Whoever can guess closest as to how much Canadian Tire money I have in this photo, gets my copy of The Amityville Horror book (see previous post).

Ok, here's the rules:
~One guess per customer
~Closest without going over wins
~All guesses must be in by 11:59 PM, Eastern Time, on this day November 29th
~Winner must be prepared to email me their mailing address. Don't play if you think I'm planning to stalk you, which I am really just too busy for at the moment, thanks very much. I'm getting new tires.
~Anyone non-CanAYdians that don't know what the heck the money is all about, click here to enlighten yourself. It's a store.
Ok, start guessing!

Monday, November 28, 2005

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid

That's me. Stupid. Ok, not stupid. Crazy, maybe. Why? I read a book. I usually read stupid little cheap romance books...ya know, to escape reality. But I ran out. And I couldn't re-read another one. Again. I usually do. But I just wasn't in the mood. So I rummaged (I love that word, rummage) in a box of books in my closet. Maybe I would find something I didn't read before. I get a lot of my books from a local hardware store. People drop off their old books there and they sell them to make money for the SPCA. I support the SPCA, so I go there. Well, they got too many books. So, they started selling them cheap. As in 'fill up a plastic grocery bag as full as you can for 2 bucks' cheap. Cool, yes? Yes, it is.

I finally found a book I hadn't yet read. I don't even remember buying it. I should have walked away from it. But noooOOOooo. I HAD to read it. At night. Late at night. In a snowstorm.
It was The Amityville Horror.
Yup. Stupid.
Read it? It's a bit scary. A lot scary. I knew it, too. While I was reading, I kept telling myself, "Put the damn book down, you stupid, stupid woman!" Unfortunately, not only am I stupid, I'm also stubborn. I HAVE to finish a book that I start. So I kept reading. All about spooky imaginary friends and doors being opened and flies on the windows and cold spots and whiffs of perfume and secret rooms and I freaked myself OUT! Because those things have happened in THIS house.
Ok, fine, so my house doesn't smell of human waste (it doesn't, I swear), and I haven't noticed any scary little pigs running around, and the doors are just opened, not ripped off the hinges, and I'm pretty sure there wasn't human sacrifices in the hidden room (which is not in the basement, but above my living room, and it's not painted red), and I don't know for sure, but I'm almost positive that a previous owner hasn't killed his entire family. Yet.
But, still. It was spooky. No, not spooky, that's too Halloween-y. It was terrifying. At first. But the more I read about it, the more I realized that:
1) My house may be haunted, but I can be reasonably sure that nothing is evil...excpet maybe my 3 year old, but that remains to be seen.
2) The Lutz's were chased out of their house in 28 days. We've been here almost 3 years. Maybe they're just lazy ghosts, but there hasn't been a huge effort to boot us out.
So, I'm feeling much better about the haunting thing, now. I even told my husband all of the details. I expected him to scoff and poke fun. Nope. Now he's scared. Which I kinda like. Twisted, yes? But, really, I've been spooked for 3 years. Now it's his turn. I'm OK. As long as Jodie the Pig doesn't come looking for a place to crash. And as long as they leave my yarn alone.

Hear that, Ghosties?! Stay away from my yarn!

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Happy Gobble Gobble Day

I know nobody is reading this, at least not unless I comment whore myself over at Michele's. And I will. All you Americans are having your wacky, crazy, holiday on a thursday, Thanksgiving. Well, la di da. I'm not jelous. Really. I really want sloppy joes for dinner.
And I know that if you are reading this, you should probably stop hiding from your family, or trying to get out of washing the dishes. Go. Enjoy your holiday.
Run, Turkeys, Run!
No, really, I have a nice safe spot for ya' my oven. I'm ever so jelous of my US neighbors, since they get to eat turkey today. This would make a great turkey day here. I know. I know. We already had our Thanksgiving in October. I have a secret though. And ya can't tell, since it's about my in-laws. Ready?..... They're french.
I know. I KNOW. There's nothing wrong with the french. I married one, afterall. It's the food. It's good. It tastes great.'s all meat. ALL THE DISHES ARE MADE OF MEAT. A typical Thanksgiving meal at my inlaws is:
~turkey, of course, which is almost always made of turkey meat
~stuffing.....which is made of ground meat, usually pork
~tortiere....that would be the minced meat pie
~ragoƻt....yup, meat stew
~and sometimes mashed yams
Like I said. It's good. It's.just.all.meat. And I grew up in Alberta, in cow country. I love meat. Vegetarian is a dirty word in my house. But I need the turkey dinner I grew up with. Bread stuffing. Cranberry sauce from a can (sorry Canny Cranny Granny). Candied carrots. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Crescent rolls from a can. Not croissants. They're french.
I love my in-laws, but I'm making Christmas dinner this year. And if they don't show up, then more english turkey for me.

So, happy Thanksgivng to the American, and to the bored Canadians like me, read the post before this one. It's a very important public service message. And if you live elsewhere...well....happy Thursday to you, too.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

New Tim Horton Rules

(This was sent to me via email. It needs to be passed on)

The following is the OFFICIAL RULES OF ENGAGEMENT for Tim Horton's. Please feel free to pass them along so that we can make the world a better place.

1) When you enter a Tim Horton's and see a line to one side of the restaurant that DOES NOT mean that you can start another line on the other side.

PENALTY: TOO MANY LINES. People guilty of this infraction must buy coffee everyone in the original line.

2) If you cannot see the donut you want available in the display you CANNOT ask for it since the server will then go into the back and eventually return and tell you that - guess what - they don't have it!

PENALTY: DELAY OF GAME. People guilty of this infraction must return to the end of the line.

3) The Drive-Thru is for ordering coffee and donuts ONLY. If you need to order a sandwich or soup get out of your car and go inside you lazy slob! It takes too long and they'll probably get your order wrong any ways so save some greenhouse emissions and remember NO ORDERING FOOD IN THE DRIVE-THRU!

PENALTY: OVER ORDERING. People guilty of this infraction will have tires deflated on the spot.

4) Cleaning of the Hot Chocolate and Flavoured Coffee machines is FORBIDDEN during times where there are actually customers in the store. What kind of business takes a product off-line in the middle of the day?!

PENALTY: UNNECESSARY CLEANLINESS. Staff guilty of this infraction will be forced to eat hot, spicy food, then placed in restraints just out of the reach of a nice cool glass of water for a hour.

5) Placing the lids on the "to-go" cups so that the drink opening lines up with the crease in the cup is a crime against humanity since it has the same effect as gag dribble-cups. Plus, exactly how hard is it to miss that crease when placing the lid on any ways? Yet it seems to happen more than 50% of the time.

PENALTY: ILLEGAL LID ON THE CREASE. Staff guilty of this must floss with barbed wire for a week.

6) Franchise owners who open up a store with a Drive-Thru that can't handle at least ten cars in line are a traffic menace. Caffeine addiction is a scary thing that will cause people to stop dead on busy streets just to keep a position in line at the Drive-Thru.

PENALTY:INTERFERENCE. Owners guilty of this infraction will be forced to order their meals via the empty Wendy's Drive-Thru next door for a month.

7) Going on a coffee run to Tim's for five or more people is a non-starter. Firstly, you'll never remember what everyone ordered correctly. Secondly, you don't have a hope in hell of carrying that stuff back out to your car. Lastly, it will take too long!!! That nice person behind you in line was under the impression that you were just going to order your coffee and go.
BUT NO, you have to take 5-10 minutes of our lives while your botch the order then juggle the cups back to your vehicle.Get some backbone-force others to come with you. No more than two orders per person thank you!

PENALTY: OVER TWO MINUTE WARNING. People guilty of this infraction will be forced to drink ALL of the coffee they have ordered and eat ALL the food.. Doing this same infraction via the Drive-Thru = public flogging.

8) During Roll-Up-The-Rim-To-Win time all cups left unattended and unrolled for more than one minute are free game to anyone else. Since we know that all the really good prizes are only meant for people in Ontario we've only got a limited shot at anything decent so watch your cups!

PENALTY: INELIGIBLE ROLLER. People guilty of this infraction must forfeit any Prizes won past or present to the new roller.

9)Staff who fail to recognize that you are a creature of habit and order the same thing everyday for over a year at the same Tim Horton's and still meet you with blank stares and an indifferent "What can I get you?" are inflicting an inhuman mental torture. Isn't that what the commercials are all about? Where are the smiles and a hearty "The usual, Bob?"

PENALTY: INCOMPLETE RECOGNITION. Staff guilty of this infraction must be subjected To proof of identify and a strip search every time they pick up their paycheck.

...and the final rule of engagement.

10) Showing up at you son/daughters hockey game with a coffee from another outlet than Tim Horton's is VERBODEN! What are you - some kind of troublemaker? Don't you know the way we do things around here?

PENALTY: ILLEGAL COFFEE. People guilty of this must clean the ice with their Tongues between periods.

Hopefully if all of Canada buys into these rules we'll have a safer, more productive society.

Awww......Poor Baby

What could be more sadder than this? Maybe if his arm was in a sling, and he was just a baby puppy, and if all his friends were making fun of him. Well, actually, his cat won't play with him (scared of the bucket), so DAMN, that is sad.
I got home monday night to find a MASSIVE blood blister on Duke's left ear. I'm told it's common in dogs who flap their ears when they are itchy, and since he has food allergies that make his ears itchy, it was probably inevitable. I kinda wish I was told sooner. I could have started looking for buyers for my children so that I could afford the damn surgery needed to fix his ear. Stupid dog. Why'd he have to pick me at the SPCA? Why'd he have to be so damn cute and loving and protective and gentle and, except for his allergies and ears, the best damn dog I ever knew?

That's the terrible trio. I'm the cute one on the right. Your right. Assuming you are not reading this through the eyes in the back of your head. The party was fun. Suspiciously lacking in drama. I'm not sure what happened. My uncle didn't get drunk and pick on me. My step brother didn't get drunk and annoy everyone by yelling in their faces. My sister didn't get drunk and start crying that she doesn't have kids and it's not fair that I got knocked up at 17 and got to start early. My mom didn't get drunk and cry about me moving away and taking her grandchildren and favorite son-in-law. My other sister and her bitchy friends didn't get drunk and start acting like bitchy high school girls and making fun of everyone else.
Oh, they were drunk. All of them. That's a given. They just behaved. ALL of them. I don't think I've ever seen it before. NO DRAMA. That's just not like my family. There's no such thing as a quick lunch without drama in my family. Really, it's like a big soap opera.
So, I had fun.
The plane ride was something else entirely. First of all, I want to say to all Canadians who are flying.....FLY WESTJET! Seriously, they rock. I was still scared to death, and I hated every second in the air, but I knew that at least I would die with friendly people. Not the garbage that Air Canada employs.
So, on the way to Edmonton, they found explosives on my carry on bag going through security. Yikes. Luckily, my husband's job description is roughly 'blows shit up', so I had a reason for it. And I was all too happy to let them search me in front of everyone. Please. Be thorough. I appreciate it. Then they had to call the army and confirm that my husband actually did that job before letting me on the plane. But, I got on.
On the way home, I very nearly missed my flight. I wrote 8:45 down as the departure time, but it was really 8:00 am. I got to check in at 7:45. But Westjet got me on. I had to run (thank heavens I quit smoking), but the check in lady ran with me, to make sure I got to the plane in time. It was very very close. I love Westjet.
So, again, I have vowed never to fly again. I hate it. I am bad at it. I am cursed with the flying. If there were ever anyone who was doomed to end in a fiery plane crash, it's me. At the very least, I will end up on some crazy deserted island getting picked off by lunatics hiding in the jungle.
But, I am home now. To my sad little dog and my kids that don't shut up and my husband talking about blowing shit up.....and I couldn't be happier to be here.
Thanks for all the birthday wishes!

Friday, November 18, 2005

Pretend it's Sunday

I most likely won't be blogging on my actual birthday, since my family doesn't even know about it (so that I can talk about them and all), and they also don't know what privacy is, since a person cannot be on a computer anywhere near any of them without someone hovering over your shoulder being nosy, and nosy is bad bad bad, since that is how my NOSY sisters ruined the surprise and found out I was coming. But I think they still don't know about the party. SO....I am posting my "Happy Birthday to Us" message now, because...well, I want to. And it's my birthday (assuming you are still pretending this is Sunday) and I'll blog if I want to.

Happy Birthday to You,

Happy Birthday to You,

Happy Birthday DEAR Tara and those other 2 that were born second and third so they were the accidents and Tara waaaaasssssn't,

Happy Birthday to YOooUUUUu!

Please pardon my singing voice. It's a little out of tune. But ain't I cute? I'm the one in the middle. That's the photo that ran in the newspaper on our 1st birthday. Triplets were rare 30 years ago, ya know.

See ya'll next week!

Thursday, November 17, 2005

For the Winners

I know, it was an easy contest, but ya'll did great anyway. Here's your rewards. Just right click and save them to your own 'puters.

I made you a banner and a blog button to match. I love the colors of yarn you use, so I wanted to reflect that in the banner.


I don't know why, but you strike me as a born diva at heart. Maybe I'm wrong, but I hope I'm not, lol.


Well, you know. It's a sheep. I know you like sheep. And it's wearing a tiara. Because tiara-wearing sheep make the best yarn, right?

I hope ya'll like them, and thanks for giving me a reason to use up some photo credits!

*Added later*

I was inspired by Lady Linoleum's post titled "Not your grandmother's crochet..." and her plea for us all to 'embrace our inner granny' (which I think I have been doing for a while, so I totally agree with her). I also had a few more extra photo credits, so I made another little pressie. This one's for you, Lady L!

30 Before 30

Shit. Too late for this little game. I suppose I could manage to get a few things done in the next....let me, really, I have to stop and think about this....about sixty hours. Sixty flippin' hours. Shit. Ok, let's see..
1. Drink a cup of coffee.
2. Surf my fav blogs.
3. Tell little one it's not lunch yet and no you cannot have your big sister's halloween candy for lunch even if it was (this hasn't happened yet, but I swear it will, I'm psychic).
4. Drink some more coffee.
5. Make lunch (not halloween candy, probably soup and grilled cheese).
6. Get more coffee (I made an extra few cups today. I have 30 things to do, dammit).
7. Get dressed.
8. Do laundry.
9. Clean kitchen.
10. Make dinner.
11. Clean kitchen.
12. Clean floors.
13. Finish making the Corny plastic bag holder for my sister for Christmas.
14. Watch everything except ER, which I love but is about a plane crashing and, um...ya. I'm going on a plane tomorrow. I think I'll watch it in reruns.
15. Whew. Half done. Go to bed.
16. Get up and make coffee.
17. Make myself all pretty with hairdryers and makeup and crap like that.
18. Get the brat dressed and fed.
19. Sigh. Go on the plane to Edmonton.
20. Shop at the Open-till-Midnight Walmart for Christmas gifts for everyone in Edmonton, so I don't have to pay to ship a package. I'm so cheap, I love it.
21. Sleep.
22. Get up and drink my dad's crappy coffee. I'll be hiding at his house.
23. Get to my mom's for the surprise party.
24. Yell SURPRISE!
25. Get a drink.
26. Get drunk.
27. Tell all the "cool" girls from high school (my sister's friends) what I really think of them. And make fun of their fat husbands, too.
28. Pass out.
29. ...umm....that's it, I guess. Out of time. I suppose getting all the way to 30 in 60 hours was just a pipe dream.

I need more coffee.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Waste Not, Want Not

So here's the deal. I bought some credits a while ago at istockphoto and I have a few left that are about to expire. I have nothing going on right now that would require the use of stock photos. But, I still love making stuff with stuff (technical term). So, for 3 so very lucky people, I will make you something from a stock photo for free. I know, a lot of you are graphic geniuses, but some people may want this, OK?
To make it fair, we'll have a little contest. Here's how it will work.

1. Find out the first names of my 2 sisters (*hint, I've mentioned them in this blog).
2. Search through to find an image that you want to use.
3. Post a comment with my sisters' names and let me know what you want the photo to eventually be. A blog button, a banner, a blog title, something else you thought of, etc etc.

The 1st 3 people to get the answer right will get their graphic made.
This site has a LOT of images, so there is a ton to pick from. I'll do my best to accommodate whatever requests I get. I'll post them here on this blog when they are done.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Hats, Bitches and Bling

We went to the Remembrance ceremonies in Ottawa on Friday. It was cold. Cold=cold weather wear. As in hats, and scarves, and pretty pretty shawls. And, since the biggest bitch in the whole city (more on her later) pushed me out of the way so she could stand right in front of me, I didn't see much. Except hats. So I took pictures of them.
Don't worry. I wasn't snapping pics when it was time to be quiet and remember our heros. I couldn't see anything, but I was still respectful.
Unfortunately, I couldn't get too close to take pics without looking like a raving lunatic and having someone call for the cops, so I had to be sneaky. I would pretend to be admiring the building/statue/flags/politician/etc. directly behind them. The pretty pretty hats just happened to be in my shot. SO, excusing the poor quality, here are a few of the nice ones I saw.

And of course, the cutest hat and scarf there:

The cute kid underneath it doesn't hurt the effect, either.

But, whenever we see cute in this world, strange and ugly is not far behind.

But I digress. I promised you a bitch story, didn't I? I can do one better. Bitch pictures!

"HI! I'm the big bitch that pushed Tara and her little 3 year old out of the way, because I am better then they are. I am richer and taller and I have snotty looking blond hair. But even that is not enough. I must stand with my chin resting on my knuckles so that I look richer and bitchier than all of you. That way, nobody will ever know that after I leave here, I will return to my trailer on the outskirts of town, where I will serve my 12 children Cheetos for dinner because my lazy husband won't stop playing X-box long enough to get a job! Shhh. Don't tell anyone."
I know. Catty. I don't care. She pissed me off. And her husband kept elbowing me in the head. I really hate people sometimes.
But, it wasn't all bad. I got to show off hubby and all his medals. He's a great peice of arm bling.

I notice something about all the military types there. They are very good at eyeballing each other's chests and quickly counting up medals, without seeming obvious. I wonder if they know that they are ALL doing it? But, I wasn't worried, since hubby had more than most there.

He has 6 (and a few commendations that are not showing). There were a few with 7, and and impressive vet with 9 or 10, but mostly 5 was the max. When I commented this to hubby, he said it isn't a contest. WhatEVER! If it isn't a contest, then why do they display them all? And why do they check out each other's racks? Hmmmm?
Overall, it was a fun day. A little chilly, but not too bad. And, on the way out, I saw the strangest thing. I took a pic.

A car got in the way, but look....that dog is entirely white, with a brown head. If it was walking next to a white wall, it would look like a brown floating dog head.
Hey, I don't get out much, so sue me.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

And Snow it Begins.....

I apologize for the bad pun. I can't help it. I was born this way. But, it's true. The snow has started here.

I know some of ya'll have already seen some of the white. This is actually a bit later in the year for snow than what I am used to. But the snow here is different. It's not heavier or colder or whiter. It's constant. ALL WINTER LONG. Most places get random dumps of snow with the odd thaw throughout winter. Not here. Nope. It doesn't stop till spring. We have a tree. It's a cute little pine tree. He wasn't much more than a pine cone when we moved here 2 years ago. Cute as a button, I tell ya. We can see him from the window on the side of our house. See:

I've noticed, while wintering in this house previously, that our little tree can be a great reference point to determine how much snow there is in our yard. So, this year, he has a job to do. Everyone, please welcome Reference Tree.

I'll be showing Reference Tree occasionally throughout the season, in order to better my bitching, moaning and/or complaining about the snow. It's a visual aid, you see. So, since the Apocalypse in snow form is nearly upon us, I have sped up my little knitting fingers to finish the hat I am making. It's at the part where I start decreases. (Pattern Here)

Oh my God, I'm so scared. I won't mess up. I won't mess up. I won't mess up.......I hope. What's the rush, you ask? Why, thank you for asking. We are going to Ottawa (Canada's capitol, ya know) tomorrow to witness the National Ceremony of Remembrance at the war memorial. Maybe go say hi to the unknown soldier. It's the year of the veteran, you know. And they deserve the 2 hour drive and the 3 hours standing in the cold and rainy snow. And they deserve so very much more. And OH, now I'm gonna cry again. Thinking of our war heros always makes me cry. I'm just a wreck at these ceremonies. Especially since my own hubby went off and blew things up and saved us from some bad guys. And especially since knowing actual people my own actual age that have lost someone they loved to war. They all make me so damn proud.
So anyway, I want my kid to be super cute for the veterans. I have also crocheted her a poppy pin, since I am scared of the regular ones poking a hole in her lung with that pin they use. The pattern is in the post below. Please read the poem, if nothing else, and don't forget to have a 2 minute moment of silence tomorrow at 11:00 AM.

In Flanders Field...A Poem and a Pattern

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead.
Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Crochet Pattern for a Poppy
*if you make one to wear, please still donate to the Poppy Fund.

You will need: Some red yarn, some yellow yarn and a hook. Simple, no? You can use any size hook. I used a size 6 (sorry, not sure what that translates to, if anyone knows, please post it in the comment section). Basically, the bigger the hook, the bigger the poppy.
With yellow: Leaving a tail about a foot long, chain 3. Join the last chain to the first with a slip stitch. Careful not to twist the chains.
Rnd 1: Chain 1. 16 SC into the loop made of chains. I know. Tight squeeze. Make them fit. AND make sure your tail that you started with is being crocheted under the SCs. Place your hook through the 1st SC made on this round, but bring your red through instead of the yellow. If you are more comfortable with it, tie a knot with the two colors and cut off the yellow.
Rnd 2: With Red. *Chain 2. 1 DC in the same sc as your chain. 2 TrC in the next 2 sc. 1 DC in the next sc. Slip stitch into the same sc. Slip stitch into the next sc.** Repeat from * to ** around to the end. There should be four petals. Use the last slip stitch to join the last petal to the 1st. Tie off.
Remember the yellow tail that you crocheted over. Now pull that tight and tie it to another tail to secure it. You can also use the tails to sew a pin to the back before hiding all of your ends.
This is my first time actually writing out a pattern, so if there are any big mistakes, please let me know.
And don't forget to hug a veteran!

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Remnants of Sanity

Nothing creepy happened last night. Unless you count the look on my face when I tried to bind off my very first completed knitting project ever. I say completed, since I have started and frogged at least a hundred of them.

I'm very proud of it. I know it's just a big rectangle, but I didn't drop any stitches, and all the stripes are the same size. I did make a pretty big mistake in the second last row (don't ask what, it just looked wonky). Part of me wanted to cry and cry and cry, but another part of me stood up and proudly proclaimed, "Look, I'm done! Now I can figure out how to bind off!" And nobody knew the difference. And, since it was made for a very grateful 3 year old that loves anything and everything that was made for her by Mommy, I doubt she will notice. And I did figure out how to bind off....eventually.
Now, I am onto the matching hat. What the hell am I thinking? It's like getting your driver's liscense and then trying out for a NASCAR race. I am using the
Basic Hat pattern at Bev's Country Cottage. I've heard that it's easy. Ya'll better not be lying. You'll be breaking the heart of a sweet little toddler if I can't do this. I'll keep you updated. It's either gonna be great or end up here.

As to the ghosties in my house. Like I said before, I know most of ya'll think I'm nutty. And that's OK. And I really appreciate the ideas of what it might be instead of a ghost. The only problem is, this crap happens daily. And it's great to say that everything has a reason, but when you have to review the reasons for all the odd things happening in a day before going to bed each night, eventually you give up. But, as long as even a few of you think I am cuckoo in the nuckoo, then I can still go to sleep at night. For the love of Pete (whoever the hell Pete is), don't stop telling me I'm a lunatic. As soon as everyone starts telling me that I'm right, there MUST be a ghost, I'm done for. I'll be in the mental ward, filed under Babbling Idiots.
However, to the one person who called me a "crazy dumbass bitch"....ummmm. OK. I guess we're all entitled to our opinions. Just like I am entitled to delete your comment. But I did check out your blog first. You know, the one you started yesterday. The one that has one post that consisted of two pictures of not-so-dressed young ladies. The blog with the eloquent description of "pic of gurlz". Why, WHY, would you have felt the need to visit the blog of a crazy housewife who talks about kids, yarn and dishwashers? Don't you have more pics of gurlz to go drool on?

Alright, small rant. Sorry. It's over.

I renovated my blog. You like? I'm still working on a few graphics for it, but I think this look will stick. Kinda retro. I like the retro.

OH, I almost forgot! I FINALLY got my new book that I bought off of Ebay.

It's a compilation. The main reason I wanted it is the story by Lynn Kurland. I've read it before, but lost the book somewhere and I wanted to read it again. Ok, all you book snobs. I know it's a cheesey romance. I'm aware. And yes, I read them. I read a lot of things. And how is reading a romance any worse than watching a sitcom? It's fast, fun and has nothing to do with real life. And I skip the smut parts, anyway. Stop rolling your eyes, I do to. I've read hundreds of these books. There are only so many ways to descibe the act of sweet, sweet love. It gets rather repetitive. In THIS particular book, though, there's a bit of yarn porn. She works in a wedding store and never sees anything but white, so she goes home at night, opens up the trunk that has her secret yarn stash, and fondles it. Oh, I'm getting all excited just thinking about it. I may just have to curl up with my ghost tonight and read it.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Boo! Part 2 (This gets really good)

Ok, light of day, full night's sleep, rational thinking and all that. I STILL think I saw something. I'm not telling my husband about this one. He thinks all this ghost stuff stopped a while ago. I just stopped telling him about the creepy stuff. Like the lights that dim down and up again.....and they arn't even on a dimmer switch. I mean, I can be sitting and reading and the lamp right beside me will do that. The power doesn't go out. The bulb doesn't burn out. The lamp on the other side of the room didn't do it.
I know ya'll think I'm nuts. Which is fine. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I would rather be crazy than have ghosts. They make pills for crazy. I can handle crazy. But in the meantime, I don't have any pills! And things are freakin' me out!
As far as I can tell, everything that has happened in this house, to me at least, is centered around the stairs. I have no idea why. I know it's a hundred year old house, but the stairs were only built in the late 80's.
As for the tall ghost thing, trust me, it makes sense. All of my imaginary friends and fantasies, for as long as I can remember, have been short like me. Not in a concious way, I just never have to look up or stand on my tippy toes when my knight in shining armor comes to sweep me off my feet. So, seeing a very tall person, almost as tall as a door frame, standing and peeking around a corner, makes me think that it's not my imagination. Like I said before, I can't say for sure what it was, since it was out of the corner of my eye, but it was something.
So, in my desperate need to show ya'll what the hell I'm talking about, I decided to take some quickie pics with my digital camera of the area where I saw something. I used my darling daughter, dressed up in her ballerina costume for just this occasion, to demonstrate where I saw the.....whatever it was. Only it was taller than a 3 year old.
Here's where it gets good. Hold onto your socks.

Check out the odd little white orbs that showed up in the pictures! (not the white circles, I put those there to show you where they are, but if you click on the pics, you can see the biggie version without the white circles drawn on it). I swear to ya'll on the heads of my children, I have not done a thing to cause that. And I took about 6 pictures in a row of that same shot, like I always do (to get the best pictures, of course) and the little balls of light only showed up in these two. Usually I enhance pics a bit before posting them, since my camera sucks, but I haven't even sharpened these images.
All right. Cast your votes. Am I crazy or haunted?

Monday, November 07, 2005


Ok, seriously. I think I just saw my ghost. Or one of them. It was just peeking around a wall. I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was more of an impression than an actual sighting. But I'm sure I saw it. I'm a little freaked. I have the feeling it was female, and tall, and light clothing, yellow or cream, I think. And tall. That's what convinced me, I think. If it was my imagination, I don't think it would have been so tall.
More tomorrow. I have to go hide under the covers now.

I Hate Birthdays

My mom booked plane tickets for me to go to the surprise party for my sisters. Ok, first off....I get that I am the surprise, but this should really be my party, too. See, this is the part of being a triplet that I hate. HATE. I WANT MY OWN DAMN BIRTHDAY! Yes, it's petty, but I don't care. When you spend 30 years plus 9 months in the womb with 2 other people, then you can judge me for wanting my own friggin' party. With my own friends and a cake that I like. And I know they will be playing country music at this party. I hate country music. I hate birthdays. When it's your birthday, you're supposed to be special, and the center of attention. You shouldn't have to split it 3 ways. And you should be allowed to have your own damn cake. And all you relatives of triplets that thinks it's a great idea to give them one present to share.....THINK AGAIN! Oh, and along that same line of thought, if you have to give money to triplets, please please PLEASE make it divisible by THREE. Try to split up 100 bucks evenly 3 ways. I dare you. Then tell me how to split that last penny in three. To little kids who only know that SOMEBODY is getting more than they are. Is it really so hard to write a check for 99 bucks?
But anyway, I have hated birthdays for a long time. I suppose I hated them when I was little, but the 1st really horrible birthday was in grade 9. We were having a big party that year. We were each allowed to invite 5 people. Too bad I only had one friend. So, what was I to do with 4 more invites? Oh, well, how easy. Just let my sisters use them for friends they didn't have enough invites for. Ya. That sucks. Not only do these people not like me, but they have to BUY me something. Talk about crappy and thoughtless gifts. I can't even remember what the gifts were. That year was crappy.
Then in grade 10, my friends (I had a few by then) set me up for a blind date for a dance. Nice guy. He was a basketball player. Oh, about 6'8". Have I ever told ya'll that I'm short? Right now, full grown, I am only 5'1". And I was less then. I sat on the bleachers all night. I wasn't in the mood to dance with a bellybutton.
Grade 11, a favorite relative died. Nuff said.
Grade 12. I was living with an aunt and uncle in a new town. It was going well. I had friends and a boyfriend and it was the 1st birthday away from my sisters. My boyfriend decided to throw a huge party for me. Rented a hall, got some bands together, lots of fun. Till nobody showed up to check coats and I had to do it. And while I was, someone was vandalizing my car out back. Fun, fun, fun.
Next year was my 18th birthday. That's the age you can drink in Alberta, where I was living again. Knocked up. Not allowed to drink. And back with my sisters. And one of my sisters invited MY ex-boyfriend, who she was then dating, to the COUNTRY bar that we were at, where he proceded to make fun of me for being knocked up.
Seriously, it goes on like that. I have very good reasons for hating birthdays. Now that I am married and live away from my sisters, my birthdays have been rather low key. A brownie birthday cake, a rented movie, a Timmie's in bed, things like that.
But now they are luring me back. And I have to FLY. Can you believe, my mom's original plan was to fly me back home the Sunday after the party? That's the day of my actual birthday. HELLO!?Somebody hasn't been paying attention! There is no way in Hell I will get on an airplane on the most cursed of all cursed days. Nu-UH. Can't you just see my husband on the news, shaking his head and saying, "It's so horrible. She was so afraid to fly. And it was her birthday, even. She told us so." I told my mom the only way I would go is if I fly back on the monday.
All right. I know I sound like a spoiled little brat. But I love my sisters. And I do want to see them on our 30th birthday. Even if they play country music. But watch the news. You just never know.

Friday, November 04, 2005


You are Shetland Wool.
You are Shetland Wool.
You are a traditional sort who can sometimes be a
little on the harsh side. Though you look
delicate you are tough as nails and prone to
intricacies. Despite your acerbic ways you are
widely respected and even revered.

What kind of yarn are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Freebie Friday!

So, I was bored last night. So I made this.

It's 85 pixels wide, great size for blog sidebars, if any of you want to use it. It doesn't do backflips or anything, but it's kinda cute.

I should have added this before, but I always forget that someone will ask me what I use to make graphics. I'm an old-fashioned kinda gal. I use Jasc Paint Shop Pro version 7.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Random Updates

~Halloween was fun. The kids got a good stash this year. The tall girl was an Egyptian goddess and the short girl was a flying unicorn. There were enough little flying unicorns out there this year to start a little plushy horned uprising, I think.

My neice and nephew were pretty cute, too.

~I've been playing
Bespelled a lot. I have to beat my mom. She's very competitive. And great at most games. But not the word games. I kick ass at word games. My classmates used to call me the Walking Thesaurus. Nobody will ever play Scrabble with me. My last score was somewhere just over 820,000. And I didn't even break a sweat. Beat THAT, Mom! I think she just broke 300,000. Ha ha!

~I just finished a christening poncho for my mom's friend's grandbaby. I'm driving to the next town over today to drop it off. It's pretty cute. I hope it fits. I didn't have a real baby to try it on, and I've never even seen a picture of the baby it's for. I used my old Cabbage Patch doll. His name is Rudy. Well, it was Rudolph, but 7 year old me thought that was too much like the reindeer, so I shortened it. Anyway, I like how it turned out, considering I was winging it completely.

I like how the trim looks, too. I tried about 5 different things, and I liked this one the best. I'll try and get pics of the baby wearing it.

~I've been knitting.

I think I am getting the hang of it, but it still makes me feel pretty dumb. I am so scared of making a mistake right at the end, and then it's ruined. How do you knitters handle the stress of it all? It's going to be a scarf to match my daughter's winter jacket. Maybe, if it works out, I'll try a hat. Or is that too ambitious? Oh, and why are my sides curling up like that? Is it too late to fix it? Not that it matters. I'm going to finish it now, no matter what it looks like. Just so I can finally say I knitted something. Besides a bookmark in Girl Guides. I wonder whatever happened to that bookmark....

~I'm getting really annoyed with the Tim Horton's I go to some mornings. They keep messing up. A LOT. In what universe does "3 cream, 2 sweetener" sound anything like "double double"? And I can't even complain, because I want to go ask them for a job in about a month. Ive been dying to work at a Timmies for years. Don't ask why. I just think I would rock there. Just you wait. If you see cars just flying through the drive through, you can think to yourself, "Wow, that's fast. Must be Tara working there." Really, I just want to get out of the house more. And this Timmie's is a few blocks from the army base. And it's already been proven that I'm a sucker for a boy in a uniform. See:

Coffee, Timbits and army boys. What girl wouldn't spend her evenings that way?

~I have been eating WAY too much Halloween candy.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005


After all of these years, I finally got to walk through a corn maze. Not bad. It was a fun day.

Then the kids went to visit the animals. Cute donkey, eh?

Careful, he bites. What an ass.

Sorry, no baby pics. I finally found him, but my camera batteries died. Poor Kim finally got a c-section after 24 hours in labor and not even close to having the brat. He's awfully darn cute, though. I'd write more, but my oldest brat used up all the milk this morning, so I am getting my caffine from Diet Coke instead of coffee, and it isn't nearly satisfying enough. Grrrr.