Tuesday, January 31, 2006

The Great Debate

Friends, fellow bloggers. The time has come. I have to do it. I know. I KNOW. There are important things going on in the world. War. Famine. Earthquakes and hurricanes. Tim Horton's is raising their coffee prices. I know.

But this is important, too. And a discussion that is LONG past due.

What's your favorite CSI? The original, Miami or New York?

Yes, this includes all you people that say you never watch TV. Ya'll know we don't beleive you, right? Fine, so it's mostly CNN and Discovery that you watch. But you flip. We know. And sometimes you stop on CSI. And then tell everyone at the office the next day that you don't watch that stuff. You'd rather watch (ick) Survivor. TV snobs don't fool me.

I'm not here to discuss all the factual errors in these shows. Yes, we all know it takes longer than that to process DNA or fingerprints. And yes, we know that it's the police that interrogate, not the CSIs. And YES, we have noticed that just about every single plotline was stolen from episodes of Quincy, ME.

But, for what it's worth, here's my take on the CSI triplets.

CSI (the original in Las Vegas)

Of the three, this is my personal favorite. But I like originals. For instance, I much prefer Disneyland to Disneyworld. I've also been to Las Vegas. I would love to see NY, but have no real desire to ever go to Miami. (Perhaps becuase of the show, but we'll get to that later).
For one, I like the characters better. They are more real. They have flaws. And I hate some of those flaws.

Like Catherine Willows.....is it just me, or did she turn really trailer trashy and bitchy the past few seasons? Sleeping with suspects? Never taking care of her own daughter? She has turned into that couger at the end of the bar that's pretty, but ooooozing desperation.

Sara Sidle is also rather bitchy. Apparently that stems from anger due to witnessing her parents kill each other, or something like that. Boo hoo. That's no reason to be rude, is it? Well, ok, fine. So maybe her mom wasn't around to teach her manners. But seriously, Sara. Turn down the intensity. Also, while I like Gil Grissom, he's WAY too old and into dead bodies for a young girl like you. Move on. I think Greg likes you.

And, as much as it's already been discussed all over the internet.....Nick Stokes. Dude. The moustache? What? What the hell was that? Oh, it's gone now? Great. So then what about the hair?!? You know that's all anyone will remember your career for, now, don't you? The bad moustache and cheesey hairdo. I'm sorry, but you should have consulted me first.

Gil Grissom is up there on my list of fav characters. He's just the right blend of creepy and neurotic, and cute and cuddly. Wouldn't he be fun at a dinner party? Just don't say anything stupid, or he'll give you that "I'm very dissapointed in you," stare. And then talk about the bugs.

My favorite LV dude is Greg Sanders. How adorable is he? And very human. Makes a LOT of mistakes. And he's not so creepy.

Overall, I like this show best because they all seem so much more real. Ok, so not totally real. But more than the CSI:Miami folks.


Oh my. Where do I even start.

I hate this version. HATE. H.A.T.E. Hate it.

But I still watch it. I really don't know why.

Let's dissect it from the head down....or is this starting from the ass up? Horatio Caine. Do people seriously think he's a good actor? What? Are you watching with your eyes closed? And your ears plugged? And while recently deceased? He's horrible! He has one look, one line with different variations ("Here's what we're going to do","This is what I think","I'll tell you what's going to happen"), one stupid move with his sunglasses. But, all that aside, here's my real problem with 'H'. HE'S NOT A DAMN HERO. He thinks he's responsible for everyone in Miami! And he's not very good at it, since they often get killed.
The episode that kicked the dead horse was number 307 'Crime Wave' from season three. There was a lot going on. You can read the summary if you really want to. This is my take on it. At one point, it's discovered that someone has been kidnapped and stashed in the underground parking of a very large resort hotel that has been schedualed for demolition. 'H' is standing outside of his SUV on one side of a bridge, the hotel being way over on the other side. Eric Delko says to him "'H', you've got twenty seconds," or something like that. But basically, he has twenty seconds. So, Horatio the Hero gets back in his SUV, drives across the bridge, through the parking lot, and into the parking garage. At this point, he has no idea where the victim is, but he drives through looking. There are probably a hundred support columns, but good ole 'H' finds just the right one without even breaking a sweat. Then he gets out of the SUV, breaks the duct tape wrapped around this guy (with his bare hands, no less) and they get back into the SUV. Then, as they are driving out of the garage, there are a series of explosions, one after the other, right behind the SUV and catching up, fast. But, phew, they make it out of the hotel and across the bridge to safety just in time. ALL IN TWENTY SECONDS! What? Time yourself for twenty seconds. I bet you can't even get yourself a fresh coffee in that time.

Also, I hate Calleigh Duquesne. She gives me temporary tourettes syndrome whenever I see her. I just start yelling and swearing at the screen. What a stuck up, know-it-all bitch. Isn't she? Boys? Did you hear me? Or are you too busy thinking about her ass in those super tight dress pants she wears? Because you know she'd be super high maintenance, right. There is no WAY you could be perfect enough for her. And last night, she made me swear again. They were discussing some suspects that were taking a film course. She said something along the lines of "Film Studies? So they watch movies? And I just went to university and got a [masters and PHD in everything] (I can't remember exact degrees, but very pretentious). What was I thinking?" All in her stupid fake southern accent. What a whore.

I also need to mention Alexx Woods. She scares me. Please, if I die, don't let her near me. Petting my hair and calling me 'Baby Doll' and asking me questions about my death as if I'm about to sit up and answer her. Is that what she sees? Dead bodies talking to her? Because that might not be the best quality in a medical examiner. I mean sure, occasionally Quincy said a few words, but at least he didn't fondle the bodies and give them nicknames.

And can I just ask....is Miami really all about nightclubs and drug dealers? Because I really don't want to visit if that is the case.


While I don't like this version as much as LV, I don't hate it as much as Miami. And that says a lot. My biggest beef with this one is that I guess who done it way too early. It's too predictable. And NY has been done to death. Leave it to Law and Order.

The characters are not too bad, but they don't mesh all that well. They always seem to pair up with the same people and never run into each other much at the lab.

I think Danny Messer is way too angry and wrapped up in his past. And rude, too. He should give Sara Sidle a jingle. They'd get on well together, I think.

The rest of it is rather unremarkable. But I still watch it. Don't judge.

So, that's it. My opinions on CSI. Fascinating, I know. And I'm sure ya'll have your own opinions. So go ahead. Opine. I'm dying to hear. (get it? Dying. That was a pun. Because CSI is all about dead people. It was funny. Shut up. Yes it was.)

And, since you're obviously into reading great blogs, click on the thumbnail in my sidebar to go visit my tenant, Stephanie at Mystickal Inscense. After you're done here, of course.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Ta Da!

Just a quickie to show off my new purse (my OH so super secret granny square project)! It's really only remarkable in that it is a purse for ME. Also, that it has a matching wallet, which is great since I previously carried all of my bank and credit cards around in my back wallet. Also, that I don't own a sewing machine, so the lining was a PAIN to add in. But, a big must, since I would hate to lose articles from my new purse.

Click for the big pic

The square pattern is from here. I choose to use the square pattern and make my own purse design, though. The sqaures are just whip stitched together. The bottom and sides are single crochets. The handles are extended single crochets.
Now I just need to escape this house so I can try it out in the real world. My purse comes complete with New Year's resolution make-up, car keys for a quick getaway, and a cheesey cheesey romance novel. Shut up. They're a nice distraction.

Monday Morning Fever

Anyone wanna buy a kid? Real cheap? I have inventory on two different models. They're only slightly sick. A bit feverish. But that works to your benefit, really. They don't run around as much when they are sick with the [flu? monkey pox? black plaque?]. They don't even talk back. This is an oppurtunity you don't want to miss out on! Act now before they feel better!

So, ya. They're sick. But I'm getting tons done this morning. I've already worked on my great granny square project, which I will hopefully be able to show off later tonight or tomorrow. I've had a full pot of coffee. Cleaned the kitchen. I've got bread rising. Homemade bread, people! And it's still just past 9 AM.

So....this is what it's like to not have kids. Why didn't anyone tell me?

All the singles out there make it sound like it's all about fun parties, and going to the movies, and buying clothes for yourself, and so on. Which is all great and things that I covet. But what about the productivity? Why wasn't I told about that?

And why are single people without kids not running the entire world by now? You have so much time! And OH the sleep you must be able to get.

But don't stop partying. Or going to movies. Because parents need something to be jelous of. It's all part of the balance of the universe. We need to look forward to a time when the kids are out of the house. Or else all hope is lost and we just give up.

In the meantime, I am just going to take advantage of a day of lethargy. I'll probably even post again later today. Exciting, yes?

For even more excitement, go visit my blog tenant, Mystickal Inscense, over there in the sidebar. Just click on the thumbnail picture.

Friday, January 27, 2006


So. That's it, then. I'm the mother of a twelve year old. Sigh. Only one more year untill teenhood. Sigh.

She's choosen Pizza Hut and apple crisp for her dinner tonight. Then we will be going to Grandma's tomorrow, for the full family party.


I may need a day or two to adjust to this.

In the meantime, check out my new tenant! Mystickal Incense Blog! The blog owner, Stephanie, has done a great job on a new layout and design. I love it! And, she's holding a Designing Woman Contest in which the winner can get one of her stunning blog designs! I'm serious! Go apply! It's easy!

Stephanie also has a recent peircing. Oh, THAT got your attention, did it? Well, I'm not telling you where it is. You'll have to visit her blog to find out.

While you are there, don't forget to go visit her online store. She carries all kinds of beautiful incense, candles, bath products, etc. The link is at the top of her blog in her intro paragraph.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Granny Up!

So...uh. Hi. How ya'll doin'?

Not really all that much to talk about, but I didn't want ya'll to worry. Just in case you were. Worrying, I mean. Maybe think I was lying in a ditch by the side of the road somewhere.

No? Ok, then.

I've been in bed for the most part of the last 2 days, fighting off a migraine. Nasty little buggers. They grab on and just won't let go.

But I've been crocheting, too. It's a mystery project. Mystery to you, I mean. I know what it is. I hope. It's made with granny squares. I've decided to make more things with granny squares. Are they not the most perfectly tacky things in the world?

I say tacky in a good way. I love tacky. I got in a fight with some chick at a flea market once. Well, not a real fight. She would have beat my ass with both hands behind her back. Anyway. I saw a display with old vintage brooches and earings, and I commented to my husband how I looove tacky jewelry. So this lady comments to her friend that I was very rude, calling this man's wares tacky right in front of him. My general reply was:

1. I don't remember asking your opinion.
2. Tacky is a compliment...did you miss the "I loooove" part?
3. I'm pretty sure he KNOWS his stuff is tacky. He's selling it at a damn flea market, not an antique shop!

But I digress. I love tacky granny squares. Let's granny sqaure everything! Tables and beds and lamps and clothes and socks and......ok, fine. Maybe not everything. And I really don't think I would have the attention span to actually finish a blanket or tablecloth.

But I have a project now. Guess who it's for? ME! I'm making myself something for once.

So, I gotta go. I'm busy. Making granny squares.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Tag Along

I decided to take a break from organizing my pantry, and found myself tagged by Valbee! Perfect for a break!

Answer the four questions below and then name four taggees.

Four jobs you have held:

~Many, many, many fast food restaurants
~Blew up mylar character balloons for gift shops...then tied them to sticks. I got paid per balloon
~Office Supply Customer Service Specialist

Four places you have lived:

~North Bay, Ontario
~Winnipeg, Manitoba
~Borden, Ontario
~Pembroke, Ontario

Four vacations you have taken:
~Disneyland (only 6 times)

~Boston (loved it)
~Freeport, Maine (loved the shopping)
~Banff, Alberta (a 'must see before you die' place)

Four vehicles you have owned:

1980 Chevy Malibu
1985 Dodge Colt
1986 Chevy Chevette
1999 Mazda Protege

Four Bloggers you want to tag: (come on, you know you want to)

Crochet Mom

Coffee, anyone?

I'm drinking bucketfulls fo coffee this morning. Anyone else want some? I was up kinda late. Didn't get as drunk as I planned. I started getting a headache. It was all the stress and tension of waiting for the election results.

Don't worry, I won't discuss politics. But it was a very exciting night. I did a lot of yelling at my TV, and a lot of cheering, too.

I'm over my maternal hysterics of yesterday. Well. Mostly. I'm still upset. But I have a plan. It may not be a great plan, but it's that or run away and join the circus. It's probably quieter in the circus.

I know I almost always talk about my 3 year old. Because, quite frankly, she dominates my time. But I also have a 12 year old. Well, she'll be twelve on friday.

Yes, I just turned 30 in November.

I'll wait a minute while you do the math.....

...Yes, I got knocked up at 17. So, while it may seem like I am a novice at this mothering thing, I'm in my last year before being a mother to a teenager.

The difference with my oldest is that, for the most part, she's been really really good. Better than most kids her age. It's easy to forget that, here at home, when she ignores me and spaces out on the TV and Gameboy and acts snotty to her little sister. But in the real world, held up next to other 12 year old girls, she's an angel.

Sometimes I need to actually stand her up next to other 12 year girls to remember that.

She's always been good. She was a good baby. She was a good toddler. She was never any trouble. I could take her anywhere. I never felt like I was 'tied down', because I wasn't. She went to movies and restaurants with me. She always behaved.

The first time she ever talked back to me, she was 8 years old. I can remember it clearly, because it had never happened before. My 3 year old has told me off at least 6 times so far today.

I spent 8 years saying to people "I don't know what the big deal is....kids are easy."

Then I had the brat. Who started life out as colicky. I should have known then what I was in for.

So, you see, it's hard to tell other people how angry she makes me. Because in the outside world, she is soooo good. But at home....she needs to help me. She needs to want to help me. Because she's gotten selfish and lazy. Thinking I will do everything for her. Nu-uh. Not for a 12 year old.

So, plan B will commence as of now. For the big brat, less mothering. She can do more for herself. For the little brat, more structure. I'll let ya'll know how it's working.

In the meantime, I just may spend today relaxing and maybe even crochet a housewarming gift for the new residents of 24 Sussex Dr.

Monday, January 23, 2006

That's IT!

I quit. I'm finished. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. I give up. I surrender. The white flag is waving. I'm jumping ship. I have been defeated.

All things shorter than me that live in this house.....have won.

Yes, today has been another day of struggling with kids and animals. But it hasn't been just today. This has been building for a while. They have been very determined in their group effort to bludgeon my sanity into the ground. And then stomp on it. And then spit on it.

Two kids, a dog and a cat...against me. I never had a chance.

So, they win. They can do whatever the hell they want from now on. Because I quit.

I'm selling the whole bunch off to the very next band of Gypsies that pass by.

Wanna know what finally did me in? The straw that broke this camel's back? This:

It used to be a matched set. It looked like this:

I don't care about the broken stuff. I have lots of stuff. I care about the little brat and the cat getting together to play on the end table, and completely ignoring me when I said 'get off'.

I really don't drink often, but I am drinking tonight. I was going to anyway. It's election night. I always drink on election night. I've already been to the booze store. Got myself some good old Snowcreek Berry Boone's wine. And some Piat D'or for hubby (I hope I got the right one. It sounds like 'pee on a door' to my non-french ears when he says it, and there is Piat D'or and Pinot Noir at the store, so it could be either one, really).

Now I know what my mother meant when she would hysterically yell "YOU KIDS ARE DRIVING ME TO DRINK!" Funny how she's still drinking. Were we as hard on her sanity as my kids are on mine?

Triplets? Hard on sanity?


To be quite frank, if I didn't have to go pick hubby up from work, I would have been drunk an hour ago.


The brat is upstairs in her room. She is staying there for a bit, so I can clean up the glass. Well, fine, so I already cleaned it up. She doesn't need to know that yet.

Where the hell are those Gypsies?

All's Well

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.
~Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well, Act IV, Scene III

Ya'll know how much I love yarn. L.O.V.E it. I love the feel of it. I love the colors of it. Mostly, I love the possiblilities of it.

But right now.....I hate yarn.

You heard me. I HATE YARN! Hate. H.A.T.E.

Je déteste le fil. (as translated by www.babblefish.com)

Because of the damn tangles. You know what I mean. Tangles!

I've been sorting yarn all bloody weekend. Masses and masses of tangled yarns. My office was overflowing. Which doesn't normally bother me, as my office is my
'Monica Closet'. But this was getting bad.

Lost children and pets, bad.

So, I sat around all weekend, untangling endless tangled balls of yarn. Some of it was my own fault, not storing it properly. Some was because I buy the cheap factory seconds sometimes, and it's not always as neat and tidy as the factory firsts. A LOT of it was because every single person in my family has given me bags and bags of their unwanted, partially used, or leftover yarn.

Don't get me wrong. I never turn down free yarn. But, really. They just stuff it all in a garbage bag. Sigh.

I even bought some new baskets to hold all of my sorted yarn. Not just any baskets. Eucalyptus scented baskets. What will they come up with next!?

But it's OK. I still love yarn. Or at least I will, once I can start making stuff with it again. I need to use some of it up. Hubby had a somewhat stunned look on his face when he realized just how much yarn I have.

Helloooo. Have we met, honey?

I think I will have a project blitz in February. To use up as much of this yarn as I can. I even signed up for the Bright and Breezy tote swap at
Crochetville. My first swap, so be gentle, please. And I won't be buyig any more yarn until I use a LOT of this up. Any ideas? No. Really. I'm all poncho-ed out.

But, it will all be OK. That's what Shakespeare was saying. That tangled yarn is good, if only to make us appreciate our untangled yarn all the more.

That Willy was a smart guy. And possibly a bit of a yarn fondler, hmmm?

Yarn still left to sort.

Yarn all tidied up.

P.S. Don't forget to check out my tenant's blog, Life According to Princess Grace!


Friday, January 20, 2006

French Friday!

I've mentioned my inlaws before. I could search for the posts, but I haven't had enough coffee yet. But the main thing you need to know is....

They. Are. French.

At the risk of insulting french people, let me explain why this is an issue....

I'm. NOT. French.

I have nothing against the french. I really don't. The problem is, they all know french and english. Which is great. I envy them. But they expect ME to know french. Why? Because of all the french I needed growing up in Alberta? Yes, fine, now I can look across the river from main street where I live and SEE Quebec, but that's just the last few years.

I know a lot of ya'll think ALL Canadians can speak french. Do you think anyone that says "ya'll" in normal conversation speaks anything but english? I don't blame you. It's TV and movies. It's the way we are portrayed. Canadians are all backwoods hicks that live in cabins and pick their teeth with whittled down moose horns(antlers?)...or they are french. And in Montreal.

I've only been to Montreal once, and we just drove through at 3 AM on our way to Maine. It was dark.

The point is, we are NOT all french. But my inlaws feel I should be. Or at least try. It's not that I don't want to try, it's that I know I can't. I can't even say my own damn last name after 5 years. I took french class in school. I was OK with the written part. But as soon as I tried to speak it, it came out with a drawl. I got yelled at. The teacher thought I was poking fun. I can't do a British accent, either. Shouldn't someone yell at me for that?

So, now we are in a place where I occasionally have to deal with french . And it can be quite confusing.

Funny Tara Doesn't Know French Story Number One:
The first time hubby took to me to Ottawa, we were driving down the main highway while I read the street signs. Finally I looked at him and said" What the Hell is a 'Chemin'? (Che-min)
"A what?" he says. "A Chemin. That big sign up there said Chemin." After laughing for a bit, he informs me that 'Chemin' (pardon my accent, but it's more like Sha-man) is a word for Street.
This was even funnier when he told my inlaws about it. They all looked at each other and wondered what a twit my husband married.

Funny Tara Doesn't Know French Story Number Duex:
Just before Christmas, we were driving to my MIL's house. Now, I am starting to get used to seeing french signs up in Ottawa. I'm actually getting pretty OK at deciphering them. Maybe not word for word, but I can usually get the gist of it.
We were passing Canadian Tire, and the sign below the main sign had the weekly special on it. In french. It had me stumped. So I asked hubby "What the helll is a Pneus?" (Pe-NOOSE). He looked at me funny and asked "Are you being serious, or just being a smartass?" I assured him that I really am that french-stupid, so he told me it was 'Tire'. As in Canadian Tire. The big store where they sell tires. Well, how the hell should I know?! It's not like anyone ever buys tires there!

I imagine those stories are a lot funnier if you know french. At least that's what I gather, since all the french people that have heard them have laughed at me.

Anyway, the whole point to this post is that I am (secretly, so don't tell) trying to learn more french. I am looking up random french words on a daily basis, so I can maybe recognize a few once in a while. And maybe know what my inlaws are saying about me.

Today's word is: “ficher” (fee-shay)

Definition: (ranges from inf to slang) - to do, give, put, leave
Qu'est-ce qu'il fiche ? - What the heck is he doing?
Fiche-moi la paix ! - Leave me the hell alone! Shut up!
Il me fiche la migraine - He gives me a headache
Fiche-le sur la table/dans un tiroir - Stick it on the table/in a drawer
Fiche(-moi) le camp ! - Get lost!
Ça lui a fichu un coup - He was touched, That touched him
Je m'en fiche - I could care less, I don't give a damn

This word may come in handy. Stay tuned for more.

French words and definitions are courtesy of http://french.about.com/.

P.S. Don't forget to check out my tenant's blog, Life According to Princess Grace!

Thursday, January 19, 2006


Click for Big Picture

Do these ponchos count as antiques? I think that picture was taken about a billion years ago. I guess that surpasses antique and heads right into artifact, doesn't it?

I'm the one 'pretending' to be tallest, by the way. I was never the tallest. But I am the oldest.

Those ponchos were made by my granny, Mary Jane. She was a crochet and knit whiz. Actually, it's her hooks that I use most of the time. I'm pretty sure I channel her when I crochet.

She used to make us all the cutest things. I can remember the most adorable navy blue zip-up sweaters, each with a kitten on the back. And, smart granny that she was, she gave each kitten a different colored bow around it's neck. To avoid fights, ya know. Not that we ever fought. NoooOOooo.

I want to try and recreate that poncho. I was sure I remembered pom-poms on them, though. Does anyone see pom-poms in that photo? Sorry for the poor quality photo. It's a digital picture of a computer screen of a scanned slide from the early 80's. I couldn't get my Print Screen funtion to work.

Since we're strolling down memory lane, check this out:

That's my grandma, Mary Jane, on the left.

No, you didn't read that wrong. Both of my grandmothers were named Mary Jane. I love that name. They also grew up in the same town. They used to tell us about the schoolyard taunt that the kids would yell at them:

What's your name?

Mary Jane.

Where do you live?

Down the lane.

What's your number?


What do you drink?

Bottled ink.

What do you eat?

Pig's feet.

Ha ha ha ha. It's not funny, but we thought it was a riot when we were kids.

Unfortunately, all of my grandparents have been gone for a long time. It actually makes me appreciate that I got knocked up so young. My daughters will, hopefully, enjoy their grandparents for more years than I did.

Of course, they also have a lot MORE grandparents. What with every single one of them getting divorced and remarried. Sigh. Not like the old days, is it?

But I digress. I was really just showing ya'll the poncho I plan to make. For my youngest daughter and neice. What do you think? The pink looks like SC or HDC increased at the front and back points. Maybe 4 rows. I think the white is one row of 1TRC, Ch1 and then a few rows of hdc. I'll keep track of what I do and try to write up a pattern for it.

Has anyone else ever recreated garments from their past?

P.S. Don't forget to check out my tenant's blog, Life According to Princess Grace!

P.P.S. I'm having issues with getting all of my text to be the right size in this post. Sorry if you need your reading glasses.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Welcome Wagon!

Looky, looky! I have a new tenant! Everyone please welcome Life According to Princess Grace! Put on some coffee, make a bundt cake (has anyone ever even had a bundt cake before, or am the only loser that hasn't?), crochet up some booties for her future babies. (Because the welcome wagons I've dealt with ALWAYS have booties.)
Grace's blog is bright, cheery, fun to read and OH SO girly. I love girly blogs. Not that there's anything wrong with boy blogs. And if you are a boy, you can read this blog, too. We won't tell. It's like reading Cosmo. To understand the females better. You know that can't hurt, right?
Grace is a fun and outspoken girl that believes in blogging what she thinks. A great place to visit. Don't forget the bundt cake!

Strawberry 'Jamma Bag Pattern

This FREE pattern is still available at
CLICK HERE to go right to the pattern.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Return of the Conquering Hero

Hubby just got home last night from a trip to the US. It was a work trip. Army stuff. He has to go occasionally and pretty much just sit around and wait for other army stuff to finish. So he shops. For stuff we can't get in Canada. Isn't that great?

For the big brat, he got Cookie Crisp and Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp cereals. For the little brat he got Trix cereal.

I have no idea why we can't get those in Canada. It's like Campbell's Chicken and Stars soup. We get the regular chicken noodle. And every single other kind of Campbell's Soup. But not the Chicken and Stars. I know. We poor, poor Canadians are to be pitied. Because we have no Chicken and Stars. Hey, how many times could I say Chicken and Stars before ya'll stop reading? Chicken and Stars. Chicken and Stars.

Moving on....

At Christmas time, I went to every Walmart and toy store within a 3 hour drive of my house, looking for a specific toy for Little Brat. A Little Tykes Animal Flashlight. Nowhere. And from what info I gathered, Walmarts in Canada decided to discontinue that item two weeks before Christmas. But it was what she asked Santa for! I was so screwed. She even mentioned it on Christmas morning, after all her gifts were open. Not rudely, just wondering, in that cute and pathetic way kids have, why Santa didn't love her enough to bring her what she asked him for. Sigh.

So, guess who walks in the door with one last night. Daddy. Daddy the hero. Daddy who hasn't had to feed her and clothe her and play My Little Effing Ponies with her for a full week, walks in the door with the only present she ever truly wanted. Sigh.


He also got me yarn.

Yep. You read that right.
The man who HATES yarn, bought me a big pile of it. See:

It's all Caron Simply soft, in a variety of colors. I'm not sure what to do with it, so if anyone has any ideas for Caron Simply Soft, let me know.

So, I can forgive him. But now he's raised the bar. I want yarn every time he goes away, now. Sucker.

He also came home just in time to criticize my latest crochet project (he said the color was wrong and that it looked obscene. But I don't know what he meant by obscene). But he was tired. It was a long day of driving. Usually he knows better than to pick apart my work. It's not safe to do that.

It's a pajama bag. Does anyone else remember pajama bags? Aparently hubby doesn't. And apparently he was too cranky and surly to hear all about pajama bags.

I made this for Little Brat (I don't know why, since nothing will measure up to her damn flashlight). It's a strawberry pajama bag. To put her pajamas in and place on her bed. Hey, how many times can I say pajamas before ya'll stop reading? You're at your limit now, aren't you?

Well, the good news is, I wrote the pattern for the, uh, PJ bag. I will type it up sometime this week. So ya'll can make cute (or possible obscene?) Jammie bags for your little brats. Perhaps while eating Chicken and Stars.

Monday, January 16, 2006

Look at the Poncho...Not the kid, the PONCHO

Ok, I get it. She's adorable. Blah Blah Blah. But, before you goo and gush over her, keep this in mind:
This is about the PONCHO.
I am showing off my crocheting here, people.
I am NOT showing off my stunning abilities to create beautiful children. I don't need feedback on that. I already know.


She's evil. I know I have mentioned this before. But it's true. She hears voices. She walks around the house saying "Red Rum, Red Rum," and she knows what it means, too. I once heard this conversation in the back of the car while I was driving:

"Hey, look. Ducks."
"Those aren't ducks."
"Yes they are."
"No. They aren't."
"Fine, what are they?"
"They're crows. Duh."
"I don't believe you."
"They ARE crows!" (yelling)
"Fine, then! They're crows!" (more yelling)

What's wrong with that? you ask. SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE BACK THERE!

Need more proof? Ok. Her toys bleed a lot, according to her. They always have these mysterious 'accidents' and need medical attention. I think her Care Bear may have 'run into a doorknob', if you catch my drift. Want to see what the mind of an evil 3 year old looks like? CLICK HERE

So, now that you have all been forwarned, look at the poncho.

The PONCHO. Don't look her in the eyes.

It was made using cheapie-pie Red Heart acrylics (what else?) and increasing rounds of triple crochets. And it's now on Ebay. The last sweater sold, for anyone who is curious, but only for the starting bid. Oh well, money is money. It keeps me in yarn.

Ok, now gush. About the poncho. Focus, people!

Saturday, January 14, 2006


One day, while beating the tar out of each other, Duke said something that altered Spooks naive little existance.
"You know you're not a dog, don't you?" Duke said.
Spook stopped swatting clawlessly at Duke nose long enough to give him a 'what are you, stupid?' look. "Of course I'm a dog. What the hell else would I be?"
"Duh," replied Duke as he placed his big paw on Spooks head and pushed it to the ground. "You're a cat."
"What?! A cat?! You're insane! I'm just as much dog as you are. Ask Mom and Dad!"
"I don't have to ask Mom and Dad. I know what you are. I've been around longer than you have, you know. Ow, stop biting my ear."
Spook kept biting. Duke was starting to tick him off. "Fine. I want proof. Evidence. Facts. I watch C.S.I. I know how it works."
"Ok, let's start with the food," Duke said.
"What about it?" asked Spook.
"Didn't you ever wonder why your bowl has pictures of cats on it?"
"Isn't that what dog food is made of?"
"Umm, no. Also, haven't you ever wondered why you got declawed? Mom and Dad never had me declawed. And what about the litter box? Dog's don't use litter boxes. We just crap anywhere."
"Are you sure?" By now, Spook had stopped trying to wrap his paws around Duke's throat. This was getting worrisome. "Ok, then explain the, uh.....um. Damn. What else ya got?"
Duke was starting to enjoy this. "You get to sleep on the bed. I don't. You get to stay home alone for a few days. I have to go to a kennel. You don't wear a collar. I do."
"Maybe they just love me more."
"Ya. Sure. That's it." Duke was starting to get annoyed, now. " Look, buddy. I've been here longer than you. I've seen more of the world than this house. You wanna play dog once in a while, fine. But you're a cat. And dogs are in charge of cats. End of story." Stupid cat.
After the initial shock of this discovery, Spook starting thinking. Cat thinking. "So I can be evil, can't I?"
"Well, aren't cats evil? I mean, don't they live to hatch evil plots that would end in the demise of their parents? Oh! I just realized! That must be why I have the uncontrollable urge to trip Mom and Dad when they are going down the stairs! It all makes sense now!"
Looking slightly worried, Duke replied, "Uh, ya. I suppose. But you don't really want to hurt Mom and Dad, right? You love them, right?"
"Oh. Ya. Sure. Love them. Right,"said Spook. Then he muttered under his breath, "Love them, kill them. Tomayto, tomahto."
"What was that?" Duke asked, ears perked up.

To be continued......

Click here to see a picture of the real life Duke and Spook.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Happy Thursday the 12th...or Saturday the 14th

ya'll know what tomorrow is, don't you? You know, tomorrow. Tomorrow is Friday. Since today is only Thursday. Or possibly it's Saturday. But it's NOT Friday.

No. It isn't.

Stop arguing. It is not.

Because if this were Friday, it would also be the 13th.

Friday the 13th.

So, it's Thursday. Or possibly Saturday. Because if it were Friday, I would still be in bed. Hiding. And ya'll wouldn't be reading this, because you too, you little paraskevidekatriaphobic, would also be cowering in fear somewhere.

Don't deny it. I know I'm not the only one. There is an estimated 21 million paraskevidekatriaphobics in the US alone, and we all know the people are a lot loonier up here in Canada. So that adds up to....well....a lot more.

I don't think that anyone in a hockey mask is going to kill me tomorrow (or possibly yesterday), but it's still a scary day. Bad, bad things can happen. For example:

~You could get a hole in your sock
~Your dog could run away
~Your cat could run away
~Your dog could run away with your cat
~Your kids could run away (oh wait....)
~You car could break down
~On a deserted road
~In a blizzard
~With no Tim Horton's in walking distance
~You could get fired
~You could get stuck in traffic
~You could get a speeding ticket
~You could totally mess up your latest crochet/knit/cheese sculpture project
~You could get food poisoning
~You could....well..Ok, you get the point.

Just don't DO anything tomorrow (or yesterday)(but if it was yesterday, I'm glad you stayed in and hid, since you wouldn't be able to read this if you hadn't). Don't go to work, don't drive, don't shop (shopping cart accidents, people...hello), don't rent movies, don't FLY, for the sake of my sanity people DO NOT FLY. Oh, please don't fly. Don't even eat, if you can help it. Ok, crackers and water. No cream cheese. Ya never know.

Now, don't be one of those idiots that thinks you can cancel tomorrow (or yesterday) out. Don't be foolish and go walking under a ladder or breaking a mirror or anything. That doesn't work. Not that I ever tried. I was hiding.

But, really folks. Have a good Thursday. Or possibly Saturday. And ignore all those people who tell you it's Friday. They're wrong. Just look at my calendar above with the ever-so-yummy boys from Supernatural on it. Would they lie to you?

Thursday, January 12, 2006


Run. Do not walk. RUN to Utenzi's blog (my current tenant, but I'm not biased). He has the FUNNIEST personality test for ya'll. I'm serious. I'm still laughing.

The Armpit Zit Story : Part Duex

I know you've all been dying to hear how Armpit Zit's trip to the doctor went yesterday. Dying.

But first.....I apologize for any typing errors today. There is a good reason, and it's related to this story.

It was not a pleasant trip. I was already in a bad mood, due to my oldest child watching TV instead of getting ready for school. Yes, the buses were cancelled, but she didn't know that. It was not my idea to get her the damn TV for Christmas. So, an argument/lecture ensued.
"A TV is a privilage, not a right. You think you can do whatever you want? Not in MY house! I'M the boss here, not you! I'll take that thing away. You just watch me. I'll give it to the poor kids. And your Gameboy, too!"
(Raise your hands....who just had flashbacks?)

It wouldn't be so bad if she acted all snotty and beligerant like a regular kid her age. Instead, she gets all hangdog looking and acts like I'm about to hit her with a broom. If I actually WAS going to hit her with a broom, that would make sense. But I'm not. Because I have control. Usually.

We drive the skating rink roads (due to freezing rain) and get to the doctor's. Then I try to park. No parking spots. So, I have to park across and down the street. And walk to the office. On icy sidewalks. Holding onto the hand of a bratty 3 year old. (Yes, I know I show cutie-pie photos of her, and you all say "aawwww" and think she must be an angel sent to earth....but she's not. She's a manipulative, stubborn brat, and I'm pretty sure she's plotting my demise). She keeps yelling "Whooaaa" and throwing her feet out in front of her. On a slippery road we are crossing. Just to MAKE ME FALL. What? Why is she trying to kill me? Do I not feed her and clothe her and hug her and play My Little Effing Ponies with her?

So I promise treats if they behave. No, that's not bad parenting. Ask Dr. Phil. Bribes can work. Unfortunately for my kids, I actually mean it when I say they have to behave.

In the waiting room is another kid. A boy. I think he may be the offspring of the Jolly Green Giant. Not that he was green. But big. HUGE. He was a good 2 inches taller than mine. I asked his mom how old he is. Nineteen months. My littlest will soon be four. I know she's tiny, but my GOD what is she feeding that kid? And he was loud. Ear splitting loud. Moms: If your child's voice is louder than a foghorn, please don't let them stand in the middle of a small room full of sick people and yell. That's just rude. And stupid.

Once in the little room, the brat got worse. Running around, grabbing books. Acting like she had a mother that would actually put up with that crap.

I don't.

Then the 'doctor' came. I think he was the doctor. It's hard to say, since he didn't even look at my armpit. He just listened to what I said about it, wrote a quick prescription and walked out. Didn't even say 'bye', the bastard. I called him back and asked him if I have to look forward to getting one of these every month (because the pills cost money, dammit). He looked at me all cheery and said "Could be!" and then walked away.

Very unsatisfying.

The brat didn't act any better, even after reminding her that she would get NOTHING from the store if she continued her brattiness. She would just scrunch up her sweet little face and say "Sooorrryy Mommy," and then continue pinching her sister. So, an argument/lecture ensued. "You think you can just say 'sorry' and make everything go away? I don't think so, Missy! An apology is not a word, it's a promise to change your behavior. There's no way you're getting any treat. What am I? Crazy? I don't THINK so. You can just sit there and think about why you don't have a treat!"

I was upset. And I still had some Walmart gift certificate money left from Christmas. So I shopped. I decided to try to pretty myself up a bit. Partly because of my New Year's resolution to look more like a grown up, but also because A.Z. makes me feel very, very ugly. Uuugly. (he didn't read that, did he? I mean, it's a zit. It's not like he has eyes, right?) I got some hair highlights in a box, to be applied later (when I can raise my arm above my head again), some new anti-wrinkle face cleanser (yes, I have wrinkles. Don't smoke, kids) and some fake nails. And I put the fakes on last night while watching LOST. Hence the bad typing. And they HURT, too. Beauty is a bitch.

So, I think I will need a new approach when next dealing with A.Z. The doctors I have seen are not willing to do anything but give me drugs. Which work, but they take days and days and days. And cost me money. A trip to the emergency room to get surgery is free, but I'm paying for these drugs, dammit. So, next time I go to the hospital. I can fake unrelenting pain. I have kids.

I've heard a few different things that this could be called (besides Armpit Zit, but I really think he's partial to that name). The most common phrse I have heard, from the real doctors and the armchair ones, is 'sebaceous cyst'. Just for giggles, I looked that up under a Google image search. Try it. It's very gross. And a great place to end this post.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

My New Favorite Photo

I recommend clicking on the above photo to see the biggie view. That way you can get the full pout, for maximum patheticness.
This is my new desktop, by the way.

Points of Interest

Ok, fine, they're interesting to me. I never promised you I'd be interesting to everyone.

P.O.I #1: The buses were cancelled today. Freezing rain. Oldest brat stays home with me today. Mwahahahaha. I get a laundry folder. It's very very very icy out there. I just finished driving hubby to work (I needed the car to go to the doctor, but I discuss that later in the list. So keep reading). I feared for my life. But I got Tim Horton's anyway.

P.O.I #2: Hubby came home last night with great news. He's getting promoted. And posted. But we don't have to move. The military is creating a new regiment, a special ops thing, and they choose him to help get it up and running. If he does well, he could come out the other end with another promotion. This was very unexpected, but also very welcome and exciting. And now I can get a job, since we know we will be staying for a while. Yay. Money.
I can't really keep you updated on his job. Much. Some of the soldiers tell their wives over the phone that they can't discuss military things, but then they go home and spill.
Not mine. Lips sealed. Mums the word. I get ZERO details. And it will be worse now. Which I am OK with. Usually.
It is a little odd telling people that your husband is away..."where? oh, well, I don't know. Somewhere in the world, anyway". He usually tells me where he's been after he gets back, at least. So, as long as he's making me money, I'll live with the secrecy. And as long as he doesn't abuse it. I'd better not start hearing things like, "Uh, ya, I gotta go somewhere tonight. Work, ya know. No. No. I can't say where. I'll just be a few hours. Don't wait up. What? My uniform? No. It's not required. Why do I smell like Axe Body Spray and have gel in my hair? Um. It's part of the disguise. Ya. That's it. A disguise."

P.O.I #3: The armpit zit. It's back. Did you hear me, people? IT.IS.BACK! I can't handle this again. I have too much to do. It's just little, but I noticed it last night. Right on top of the stretch marks from the old one. Yes. I have stretch marks in my pit. That's how big this thing can get. And DAMN can it hurt. It's starting to now. Seriously. I've had two kids. If you asked me if I would rather have another armpit zit or give birth again.....it would be a toss-up. I mean, sure, labor sucked, but it was never more than 5 hours (I apologize to all mothers who had to labor for more than 5 hours).
So, I'm going to the doctor today. And I expect something to be done. I need an ending to this drama. At least hubby is actually worried this time. But that's just because he's so happy and giggly about his new job.

P.O.I #4: Is it me, or is Ebay a bit slow? Or does everyone just totally hate the sweater I listed. Because I don't hate it. And it took me days to make. But there isn't even anyone watching this auction. I'm a bit worried. I've never had a crochet item not sell on Ebay before. And if nobody is gonna buy it, I may just have to keep it for my own brat. Even though she has a gazillion crocheted sweaters already. Every time I try out a new design, she gets the prototype.

P.O.I #5: Ignore number four. I'm just being whiny.

P.O.I #6: I got the photos back from Walmart. It all worked out well. And it was pretty cheap. They have some sort of online sale right now, I think. So, now I can order just the photos I want and not have a hundred gazillion prints of pictures I don't want. I'm one of those people that takes at least four shots for every pose...just in case the sun moved a lot in 6 seconds.
Also, now I can get the right amount of prints for all of my family. So there is no more fighting. The old way was to get doubles, take out a few I like, send the rest to my mom. She was supposed to take a few she liked, then pass them to my sister, who in turn passed them to Dad, and then my other sister. Sometimes, to be fair the order was changed, but someone was always left with the crappy out-of-focus pictures of the kids where neither one was looking at the camera, and at least one of them looks like a troll (not naturally, just the angles and shadows and all that). Now they all get THE SAME PICTURE. And they can quit their damn bitching. OH, and if I really want to be mean, I can send the photos to the Walmart where they live, and then THEY have to pay for them. Mwahahahahaha.

P.O.I #7: I apologize for all of the evil laughter today. I'm not actually aiming for world domination. But I think the Armpit Zit may be. (I've decided to capitalize 'Armpit Zit' from now on. Out of respect. And fear. I think it's trying to kill me) So, just in case you read about me in the news, you'll know the voices told me to do it. Shut up. They did, too.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Crochet Chart ~ Maple Leaf

I had a bit of response to the crocheted maple leaf in yesterday's post. It was crocheted onto a halter top that was sold on Ebay last year. But, I still have the chart for it. In fact, I have many charts. I L.O.V.E. crocheting images. It's a bit daunting to some, but I have a little secret for you......it's really, really easy. Once you can master the yarn color change, you're good to go. Unfortunately, I'm not the best teacher. But there are a few links that may help at Crochet Pattern Central.

This graph is 30 by 30. In the halter top that I made, I used hdc (half double crochets), but you could also use sc or extended sc. If you use a dc, your image will be too long.

Please keep in mind that this is not a pattern. It is only a chart. To print it, right click your mouse on the image and choose "Print Picture".

I have a whole bunch of charts that will eventually all be posted. Keep watching!

Well, There Goes the Neighborhood!

I have a tenant! Hi Utenzi!

Darn Blog Explosion. Like I needed something else to keep me busy. I decided to jump in and rent out my blog. I had a lot of great bids, but I HAD to pick Utenzi this time. Not only was he the one who drew my limited attention span to blogexplosion, but he was also the first memebr there to "battle my blog". And he won.

But, ya know, bygones and all that. Also, I already had Utenzi on my blogroll, so I can definately recommend his blog as a good read.
I find his posts to be very imformative and interesting, and also very commentable. And he's great for commenting back.
He also shows some beautiful photos that he has taken, obviously surpassing my stunning photographic abilities.

Go. Visit. Beacuse it's fun. And I said so.

Monday, January 09, 2006

My Lips are Sealed

I am so excited, ya'll, I'm practically vibrating. But I can't talk about it. Because it's politics.
I LOVE politics. But I have a rule for my blog.

Rule #1: Don't EVER discuss politics on this here blog. It pisses people off.

Not that this blog is all about making everyone happy, or that I'm scared to say what I think (cuz I'm not). It's just that this is a crochet blog. I know. I talk about everything else, too. But politics are different. They piss people off.

Me included. But in a good way.

Anyway......for those of you outside the bubble, Canada is having a federal election in two weeks. It's a big one, too. Well, they all are, but this one is extra exciting. And I love it ALL. I love press releases and debates and lawn signs and TV attack ads.....I love it. Election day is like Christmas for me. Because I get to VOTE.

And election night.....oh, don't get me started. A bottle of wine, yelling at the TV, watching all the little zones and constituancies turn different colors. I always have a hangover on the morning after an election.

But, I won't discuss politics. It pisses people off.

So, I will talk crochet. Because wouldn't Canada be a much better place if we all just sat and crocheted a bit each day? I am crocheting a Valentine's day sweater. Not for me. It's a toddler size. Yes, I pretty much only crochet in toddler size. It works for me.

Speaking of which, the last sweater is now up for auction on Ebay, in case anyone is sooooo envious and they HAVE to have it for their own kid. CLICK HERE to see it. Or to bid. No pressure, though.

Ok, so. That's it. Sorry. I'm all about politics right now. But I won't discuss that here. So I don't piss you off.

But I take emails....

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Quick Pic

I'm spending my evening trying to navigate the mysterious process of ordering photo prints online, to be later picked up at Walmart. Is there a reason they make this so difficult? I mean....it's Walmart.
So, since I would hate for ya'll to be as bored as I am, and since I have yet to show off my stunning photographic abilities, I present you with this:

I took this on Christmas day, tramping about my yard through the snow, wearing my fleecey jammies and my snow boots from CanAYdian tire. It's a birdhouse hanging out in front of my house. Which is a schoolhouse. Just like the birdhouse is. Get the irony? No? Ok, nevermind. I'm befuddled by Walmart.

Wish me luck!

Thursday, January 05, 2006


Well, at least she woke up cheery. But there was a lot of payment in apple juice.

Vanessa asked about a pattern in the last post. Sorry folks, all off the top of my head. But maybe after I make a few more I will write something down.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Sucker for Stripes

I can't help it. I love crocheting in stripes. I don't know why. It takes almost as long to hide all of the ends as it does the actual crocheting.

This is my latest. And best, if I may say so. And I will. Since it's my blog. And if I can't toot my own horn here, than where can I?

So, uh....toot, toot.

I love this sweater. I want one. Alas, it is only a size 3 toddler. And also for sale. Or it will be. Once my model wakes up in the morning and helps me get some proper pictures of it.

I haven't crocheted much since Halloween. In a bit of a slump, you may say. But, once again, I am awake all night thinking up new ideas. ALL NIGHT. I miss you, sleep.

And I bought more yarn. LOTS AND LOTS OF YARN. At Walmart. With a gift certificate I got for Christmas. I bought three 1000 gram balls. ONE THOUSAND GRAMS EACH! That's THREE THOUSAND GRAMS! Dudes! They each needed their own Walmart bag!

Yes, it's Red Heart. So sue me. I still like the cheap. It makes pretty stripes (see above).

Miss Me Yet?

I know. I KNOW. I can feel the sadness and despair. It's a lonely, lonely internet without Tara. I know.

But I've been busy. Crocheting, if you can believe it. I swear! Among other things.
Also. My husband is still home on holidays. And I don't write in this here blog when he's around.

So I can talk about him (Hi honey!).

Like how's he's deconstructing the house.


This time it's the front closet. He's making it smaller and minus the ugly bi-fold doors. Great. love the idea. Hate the mess. And, he needs to learn that this is a 100 year house old that's been re-modeled at least 70 times, I'm sure. Nothing is just a closet. So, now it's taken apart. And he's not sure what to do with it. And he may be going away for another six weeks at the end of the month.


And we've been doing the family thing, driving back and forth to Ottawa. Back and forth. Back and forth. I'm starting to hate it. A lot. Especially since the only really good reason to drive there is to shop (Hi Inlaws! Sorry, but you know it's true!) and all the stores are closed on holiday days. And the days they aren't closed, we're too busy with the inlaws.


Is it me, or has this turned into a total whine-fest? All right, sorry.

So, I'm spending the day crocheting, and I PROMISE pictures for tomorrow. Tonight I am going for a grown up coffee, so I may be a tad less pathetic tomorrow.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Happy New Year, Yall!

Well. That's it. Two thousand and five. Was it good for you?

Two thousand and five was the year of the kitchen reno, in my house, anyway. It was pretty much all consuming. There were a few other personal notes of interest: hubby's six week bomb course, me quitting my job, a beautiful summer weekend in Maine, my sister getting sick and no doctor that can tell her what it is, my oldest girl surpassing me in height, my youngest girl surpassing me in smartass-i-ness, etc, etc, etc.

Now, if ya'll have been paying attention, I'm not up with all the standard resolutions (
RSTLN and E). But I do have a few non-standards. At least for me they are. (And if you haven't been paying attention to my blog and had to click on the link to read back, then may I suggest a resolution for you? Hmmm?)

This year, 2006, I resolve to:

1. Paint the house. The previous owner has a scary and bizarre fascination with faux finishes. And stencilling. Not that there isn't a place for those things. But not on every wall. And baseboard. And not in my house. Ever. I love color. I love choosing colors. But I love nice flat walls that are all one color. HEAR THAT, LADY THAT USED TO LIVE HERE? ONE COLOR! AND NO DRAGGING OR SPONGING FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!

2. Make money. I'm not sure how. I probably won't be getting a real job any time soon. Hubby has too many upcoming trips away, so I would, again, be too unreliable in a job. But I will make money somehow. You'll see. Or at least you will when I tell you. I love making money.

3. Dress like a grown up. I'm in my thirties, now. I should stop wearing jeans and t-shirts. Not all the time. But maybe at least once a week. A skirt, or some dress pants. Maybe even own more that one pair of shoes at a time. Gasp.

4. Same as number three, but with make-up. It wasn't really my thing in high school, like all the other girls, so wearing makeup has been a process for me. But I think I'm OK at it now. I watch What Not to Wear. They have good tips.

5. Find out everyone's birthday and send a card. OK. Not everyone. For instance, since nobody I know in real life reads this blog (I hope), if you are reading this, I am most likely not sending you a birthday card. But I suppose anything is possible. You could always tell me your birthday and wait patiently for the mailman. Dreams can come true.

6. Drink more coffee. Lot's of it. I know. Bad resolution. But with friends, I mean. I just need to go out more. Be more social. Stop hermitizing myself.

7. Buy more yarn. Again, bad resolution, but one I can definately keep!

I'm sure I will break every one of them by Tuesday, but isn't that what resolutions are for?

Have a happy and healthy 2006 everyone!