Monday, October 30, 2006

New Rules For Halloween

I believe I have about 30 seconds of 'normal' before life gets hectic. Again.

I have no visitors. My alleged husband is at work. Big Brat is going to school. I don't work until 5:00pm. I have almost a whole day to do some normal things. Like laundry. And cleaning. And returning empty beer bottles. And carving a pumpkin, maybe.

Because starting tomorrow, it all gets crazy again. Halloween. I love it. But can they not make a rule somewhere that moms don't need to work on Halloween? So they can do CRAZY things like make dinner, take their jackets off, sit down. And a rule that the MOMS get to take the kids out Trick or Treating, and not the dads. A hot coffee or tea will be provided for each mom. And, if she worked all day, a large, muscled, half naked guy will pull her from house to house in a chariot. The dads need to stay home and hand out candy. With no beer or TV. And, if a dad is not available, an alternate treat distributor can be rented. And, if you cannot afford an alternate treat distributor, one will be provided for you.

And while we are at it, let's give every kid their own makeup artist. And costume designer with their own sewing machine. Because those Walmart costumes are looking crappier every year. What's next? Twenty bucks for a big paper bag with holes in it and a black magic marker?

And let's give the little darlings a list of how much discussion there can be about their costume. A time limit. Let's say, 1 minute a day. And not to start before October 1st. And not to continue past October 31st at midnight. Because I can have NO MORE conversations about what color of scarf and how much jewelry a gypsy should wear. How would I know? Do I look like a gypsy? I've been threatening to sell her to gypsies for twelve years, and NOW she takes an interest. I also have no more conversation left for how much pirate stuff is too much pirate stuff. For instance, would a hook, a parrot, an eyepatch, a sword, a hat, AND a bandana with crazy beaded braids and a painted on beard be a little bit TOO piratey? I don't know. Do I look like a pirate?

What happened to those great costumes that look like snowsuits and just zip on? I loved those. Little Brat was happy with that last year. She was a flying unicorn. Sure, there were 40 other flying unicorns trick or treating in the same area, but she didn't care. Then Kindergarten happened. And her new friends. I shudder to think how much time they spend at school talking about how to drive their mothers insane with complicated costumes.

And, for those who have mothers that wait until TODAY to find a costume for them....they should just automatically get extra candy. And I know I will see those mothers today, at work. At the dollar store. Where the Christmas stuff has been out for weeks. And anything remotely orange and black in color has been relegated to the "Let's just sell this crap and get it out the door" section of the store. No, we have no colored hair spray. No, no vampire teeth. No, no witch hats, colored wigs, pumpkin carving sets, halloween socks, giant paper skeletons, fake spider webs, fake blood, fake swords, etc, etc. No. We are out. We were out last week. Or the week before. It's the day before Halloween, bad moms. You are too late. You are going to send your kids to school tomorrow wearing their dad's garage overalls and calling themselves a 'mechanic'. And all the other kids will KNOW what that means. That they have a mom that couldn't be bothered. And now it's too late. Go to Walmart and buy a large paper bag and black magic marker. And hope your children are emotionally stable enough to not smother you in your sleep.

Ok. Who's with me? New rules for Halloween. One of us will have to get elected to something. The higher the office the better. Are any of your running for President or Prime Minister, by any chance? Or at least dressing like one for Halloween? No? Well, until we can make these changes, everybody just hang on. We'll get through it.

Then we just have to worry about Christmas.

Friday, October 27, 2006

That's kinda like I still feel. It's been a rough week. So far.

The visit with my mom was fun. We shopped, I worked, she took care of my kids and did the cooking. My Uncle came for a visit. He played my alleged husband's army games on my computer while my mom played word games on her own laptop. All very exciting.

I like when my mom cooks for me, but I have some issues with it. Some of ya'll may know I have a phobia about of food poisoning. And I am aware that it is an irrational fear. I think I handle it pretty well. I can function as a normal adult human being. Mostly. Fine, so I overcook all of my meat. And I use a thermometer on EVERYTHING I cook. And I will NEVER send my kids to school with a lunch that includes anything with chicken or mayo in it.

Basically, take all of your normal precautions and double them. I have issues.

My mom, on the other hand, is the opposite of a person with food poisoning issues. And this shows on many occasions in a short visit.

It starts with her dishes. They often have bits of food left on them. 'Often' is maybe too mild a word. Always. It's more like ALWAYS. I tend to rush in and wash the dishes when she isn't looking, just so I know they are clean. Especially since I have seen the cloth that she uses to wash the dishes with. Ick. She thinks I am very industrious, always washing my dishes so quickly. She knows about my food issues, but has yet to figure out that that extends to old flakey food stuck to my plate.

Then, there is the frozen food debate. When I go shopping, I plan my day specifically around making sure that the VERY LAST things I buy are my frozen items. I then rush straight home and put it all in the freezer. Because frozen keeps it safe. Safer. Whatever.

So, one day, my mom decides to make us all dinner. She stops at M&M Meat Shop to get perogies, cabbage rolls, and some chicken. All of it frozen. We still had shopping to do. It was ok, she assured me, we would be quick. Until we stopped to visit a friend of hers. Then we had to go meet her for coffee. And sit. And drink coffee. And sit. All the while, I can hear the frozen goods in the back of the looooser cruise, calling to me. 'Tara....we're meeeelllllting.'

When my mom finally figured out why I kept stealing glances at the van, then my watch, she brushed it off and said 'Oh. Your issues. Don't worry. I checked. You can keep frozen food out of the freezer and as long as it doesn't reach room temperature, it's OK.'

What?! Which PART? Because I bet the outside of those things are room temp by now!!!

So, we finally get home, and I rush it all into the freezer. But then, about 2 hours before dinner, my mom starts her prep work. So she takes the perogies out of the freezer. Why? I don't know. They can cook from frozen. But she decides to thaw them. Does she get a bowl or plate or even a cutting board? No. She cuts open the bag and dumps the whole whack of them straight onto my countertop. The countertop wiped by her, with the same cloth she used to wash dishes.

Can I help it if I think she might be screwing with me at this point?!?! Would a mom do that????

I was good, though. I ate all of it, and didn't imagine stomach pains later. I didn't dive across the table and slap a perogie right out of the mouth of one of my kids, just to save them from the horror of it all. I didn't accidentally pour lighter fluid all over dinner and then set it on fire, just to make sure all the germs were cooked off. But I wanted to.

It was the last thing that got me, though. The thing I WON'T eat, no matter how much I love my mom. It was the peameal bacon (aka Canadian Bacon for you Yanks).

We had four chunks of it safely in the freezer. Everyone decided to use it the next morning for eggs benedict. Yummy. I make a MEAN eggs benedict. So, I took all the bacon out of the freezer and put it in the fridge to partially thaw. Like I was SUPPOSED to do. But then the drinking started. Wine. Vodka. Whatever. I didn't have any. I worked the next morning. But nobody else was really up for eggs benedict the next day. Or any other solid form of food.

I decided to leave the bacon thawing in the fridge. We could have it later, maybe for dinner. Then I went to work. When I came home, my mom told me that they ate one chunk, but she put the other 3 chunks back in the freezer.

What????????? WHAT???? Isn't that, like, rule number ONE???? Never, ever, NEVER, refreeze meat that has already been frozen and then thawed. NEVER. So, it's just sitting there. In my freezer. Waiting for my alleged husband, who does NOT have the same phobia as me, to ask me why we don't have it for dinner. And when I tell him why, he'll roll his eyes at me and say, 'Oh right, your issues.'

So, ya. I have ISSUES. And I'm OK with my issues. Because they almost never interfere in my life. Except when my mom visits. Then I have to take those issues and hold them wayyyyy deep inside. And hope I don't die of food poisoning.

I'm so glad my mom doesn't read this. But just in case.....LOVE YA MOM!!!

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

I know. I'm not here much. And yes, my mom is gone. But, I'm not absent from blogging for anything glamorous like whirlwind vacations or job promotions or running away to join the circus. Finally.
No. I'm just sick. Again. I think it's another cold, but so far it's mostly a fever and sore throat. I had to cancel my dentist appointment for this morning. That would have SUCKED.
As it is, I have done nothing for the past 24 hours but lay around in bed and whine and moan and nap and watch the entire first season of Rosanne of DVD. Little Brat's meals have consisted of easy-to-cook things like Kraft cheese slices, pickles and Lucky Charms straight from the box.
But, I have to work tonight. So I am attempting my first coffee of the day. It kinda sucks, but I think the fever is messing with my tastebuds.
I really do have more interesting things to talk about, but I am barely conscious at the moment. We'll try again tomorrow.

Monday, October 23, 2006

Still here.....just visiting with my mommy. I'll have some neat-o yarn and crochet treasures o show ya'll soon.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

I just made a cup of coffee, drank some, and it tasted sour. So, I poured it down the sink, poured a bit of milk in a glass, made Big Brat taste it to see if it had gone bad.....and she said it didn't. So I made a second cup of coffee, with the same milk.....and it's fine.

What the hell????

Today is just NOT the day to screw with me, people. My house is one vacuumed hallway away from being clean, I have to leave for work in the next hour, and my mom and her friend will get here sometime while I am at work. Hopefully the dog is OK with that. But he loves Granny. And they'd better not snoop.

My alleged husband and I had a disagreement last night. And yes, it was a disagreement. If this was something we actually fought about, we wouldn't still be married.

It was about pumpkins. Small pumpkins, to be exact. Little Brat's kindergarten teacher sends home these calendars with notes about what they should bring to class. Fine. I'm fine with that. For little things. Like dress in blue this day. Or bring a stuffed toy that day.

For today, she wants them each to bring a small pumpkin. And the word SMALL is where the problem comes in. Try, TRY, to find a small pumpkin in this town. At least one small enough for Little Brat to carry without getting a little toddler hernia. I went to 4 different grocery stores and Walmart in the last few days.

No small pumpkins.

Darling alleged husband, at about 7 PM last night, wanted me to keep searching. To drive further and keep looking, no matter how long it took. When I had a house to clean. And dinner to eat (I was delayed for various reasons from eating my own dinner). And an alleged husband that needed to occupy the passenger seat in the loser cruiser while I drove him hither and yon for his work. Hither and yon, peeps.

My take is that the teacher can take her small pumpkin idea and shove it up witty and inoffensive item that relates to kindergarten teachers. Preferably orange in color.

So, no pumpkin. And darling alleged husband can find the NEXT fun item for her to bring. Watch. It'll be something like a beer bottle cap. Ya. That'd be hard to find, eh?

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Today sucked. When's tomorrow getting here?


Yes, I should be cleaning and sanitizing my house in anticipation of my mom's visit. Not that it's a HORRIBLE mess (or I suppose that depends on your definition of horrible). It's just that if anything is left unfinished, she wants to do it FOR me while she is here. And, while that would have been a dream come true when I was teenager, I don't want her cleaning out my fridge NOW.


Anyway. So I got tagged. By Lorraine (Blogger won't let me post the link, so look up Stuff, Junk and Whatnot on Google). Who's name I really like, but I am biased, since that's Little Brat's middle name. Which is my mother in laws name. Which REALLY ticked off my mom since nobody named a baby after HER. I guess she should should have cleaned out my fridge more when I was younger.

I haven't had my coffee yet. It's taking too long to brew. My thoughts are a little disorganized. So sue me.

Anyway, I was tagged. To do a MEME. I think I may have done this one before. Way, WAY, at the beginning of my blogging days. But things may have changed. So I'm doing it again. While my coffee brews. And my house doesn't get cleaner. So, goes.

Four jobs I've had:

Paper Delivery girl
Mylar Balloon blower upper and stick on a sticker-er

Soup Maker

(I've had like about 35 different jobs or so at last count, so those are just the four I thought of first)

Four movies I can watch over and over:
Dazed and Confused
Peter Pan (Disney animated)
Any of the Back to the Futures (I have the box set)
The Pirate Movie (I know nobody has heard of it but me, but I love it. Look it up on Google)

Four places I have lived:
Edmonton, Alberta
Winnipeg, Manitoba
North Bay, Ontario
Borden, Ontario

Four television shows I love to watch:

All the CSIs (yes, you too Horatio)

Four places I have been on vacation:
Grand Canyon

Four of my favorite dishes:
Fettucini alfredo with roasted red peppers and terriyaki chicken on top
Donair Pizza
Terriyaki chicken nachos with LOTS of sour cream
Denny's Sausage Scrambler

Four websites I visit daily:

A few message boards for army wives. I'd post the link, but ya know, they're my real life peeps and ya'll are my blog peeps. Sorry. It's not you. It's them. Really.

CFRA ~ My radio station. I get my morning news there.

My bank sites. Again, sorry. Ya ain't privileged enough to see THOSE.

Google ~ I'm a search-a-holic. I search for EVERYTHING that pops into my little head. And that's a lot. I think Google owes me a little of their wealth.

Four places I'd rather be right now:
Tim Hortons

Somewhere in Europe that has sheep and a lot of rain and warm sweaters, like Ireland or Scotland.
The land of houses that can't get dirty.

Four bloggers I am tagging:
Anyone with the letter Y in their name.
Anyone with brown eyes.
Anyone with a dog.
Anyone that wants to.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

IHHCC ~ The Abridged Meeting

I'm typing as fast I can. I woke up 15 minutes late. Which gives me 15 minutes less to get Little Brat ready for kindergarten and 15 minutes less to yell at Big Brat to hurry up. And if that's late, then I have 15 minutes less to shower and smell pretty before work. And, folks, my hair NEEDS that extra 15 minutes. And that gives me 15 minutes less to drink coffee and ramble on this here blog. So, sorry about the following typos. No time for spell check.

I will leave my fellow I Hate Horatio Caine Club members with a few points from last night's episode of CSI:Miami that you may want to discuss.

~ The standing of H in front of the big stained glass window, like he is some avenging angel, out to punish all of the obviously evil and corrupt judges of Miami.

~ The way that ALL of the crimes tied together......again. How do they keep doing that? In MIAMI? It's a big city, isn't it?

~ How NOBODY even once wore a bio suit, even though they mentioned them and the words biohazard, bloater, and 'popping the body'.

~H's ability to save anyone, ANYONE, from trouble. Just what has he done to earn so many favors? Hmmmm?

I would have stayed up last night to start the meeting, but I had to run errands for my alleged husband, who, due to reasons undiscussible, cannot FETCH his own damn things (annoying, but necessary, and I suppose I won't bitch about it since he's all about saving the world and all). At 9 pm. When Heroes was on. And I NEED to watch Heroes. So I had to watch it at 10 pm. Which pushed H back to 11 pm. And I was too tired to type last night.

All right. Your turns. Discuss. And stay out of my liquor cabinet.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Walmart won. This is approximately what it sounded like.

Mom, can I push the cart?
Can I sit in the cart?
Ok. Mommy, can I go to the toys section?
I'll be good.
Is that stuff for making stairs smell nice?
That stuff.
What stuff?
The powder stuff.
The carpet fresh?
No, it's for all carpets, not just stair carpets.
Oh. Can we get some?
Yay. Does that smell like lavendar?
Oh. Does THAT smell like lavendar?
Can I smell?
Can I take the lid off and smell it?
Can we get some little plates that look like animals?
How about spoons?
Is that a blanket?
Does it look like a blanket?
Then it's a blanket.
Can I have a Strawberry Shortcake pillow?
How about Spongebob?
Will you make me a pillow with yarn?
Can I have some yarn?
What for?
To play with the cat.
Can I look in the toy section?
Can YOU look in the toy section?
Are we getting cookies?
Lucky Charms?
Can I get some scissors?
Are we paying now?
Can I have that flashlight?
Can I push the button?
What about THAT button?
Mommy, can I have some Smarties?
Have I said yes to ANYTHING yet?
The stair freshener.
Oh. No Smarties.
Can I have....
No to the next 10 things, ok.
Ok. ...If I ask for 10 more things, then can I have some gum?
Can I drive?

I should have stayed home and cleaned.
Should I clean the house....or go to Walmart?

Beacuse if I don't clean the house now, it won't get done. And my mom is coming to visit on Thursday. So it should really be clean and smelling pretty. And my uncle from Montreal is coming, too.

But, Walmart has stuff. Lots of stuff. Some stuff I might like. Like yarn stuff and linen stuff and fun new cleaning product stuff.

I'll decided after my coffee.

Friday, October 13, 2006

The Honeywagon Adventure

Ya'll know what a honeywagon is, right? The poop pumper? And other various disgusting names that all mean a tanker truck that empties septic tanks for a fee. Right.

Keep in mind, folks, that I am a city gal. Always was. Always had a sewer pipe attached to my toilets. Until this house. In which the toilets are attached to my backyard. And a large underground tank that collects all the various waste.

Aren't ya glad you stopped to read HERE today?

So, my adventure started a few weeks ago when I called to book a day to have my poop pumped. The nice lady on the phone said "How's Friday the 13th? Is that day OK for you?" Really? Friday the 13th? Friday the 13th? That's the day you want to come and stick a large hose in a big hole in my backyard, where my kids play, and pump 3 years worth of human waste? Really? (Red flags popping up everywhere, sirens, flashing lights, ABORT ABORT). Sure, that day sounds fine.

She then proceeded to tell me where to dig to find the cover. What??? Dig? ME? Don't THEY do that? What the hell????

A few days ago, I started digging. I used the markers, in the form of white bricks, that were left by the previous owner of the house to mark where to dig. I have come to the conclusion that the previous owner is an asshole. Because the lid wasn't there. But I now had THIS hole.

And this little plastic toy sheep. Not exactly burried treasure, but it's better than a punch in the face.

So, I called the nice poop lady back and had her tell me where she thought I should dig. She asked me where the poop pipe comes out ofthe house. Um....from the basement. She said I should see it where it comes out of the house. What? It's underground. I'm supposed to see that? With my x-ray eyes? No, I can't see it. So, I have to measure fom the spider infested wall of my basement, to the spider encrusted poop pipe. Then add a few feet for the GIANT stone foundation. Then go outside and find the right spot. She said it would be no more than 5 feet from the house and no more than a foot down. Easy as pie, right?

I start digging. And hit something. I think 'yay, I found it!' but, I am wrong. I have found a brick. What kind of a moron burries a brick? So, I get Little Brat's little plastic garden shovel and dig around the brick until I can get it out. And continue to dig. And hit another damn brick. And another and another.

Let's forget the fact that I can barely dig through grass, let alone hundred year old bricks. Who the HELL burries a PILE of bricks????? What kind of sick, twisted person does that? Was it done in anticpation of a weak little housewife, a century in the future, trying in vain to dig through them? Because that's sick.

And I was obviously in the wrong spot. Knowing that the marked spot was wrong, and the measured spot was wrong, and it was dark and raining and I was covered in mud....well, I panicked. I called in a backup husband. He was actually a loaner from a friend. She brought him right over to me. So we could drink coffee in the nice warm house while the loaner husband dug up half my backyard looking for the damn spetic tank lid. Loaner heroes are good, too.

And so then I had THIS hole.

So, the lid was found. Harvey the poop pumper came this morning. Nice guy. Kinda big, but I think that's probably a little like a safety line in his line of work. Ya know. In case he falls. He won't fall in. He was interested in talking about crochet patterns, too. While he was pushing the poop around with big poop pushing poles.

You didn't HAVE to keep reading, you know. Don't blame me if you're grossed out.

The smell, people. The smell was insane. And Harvey MUST be a little insane for smelling that all day.
And as Harvey drove the honeywagon away, on this glorious Friday the 13th, all I could think was "Nice man. Bad job. I sure hope that cap at the back of the truck is on tight."

And if THAT little adventure didn't go horribly wrong today, maybe it won't be so unlucky afterall.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Survivor and CSI

Ok, I feel I have watched enough of this season of Survivor to comment a bit. But just a bit. Because I'm honestly not following as close as I usually do. I did like the immunity challenge tonight. That was great. A thrilling watch. I'm also going on record as saying my fav to win is Flica.

And that's all I have to say about that.

But, what about tonight's CSI??? What did they do to my Greg???? How DARE they? My poor, poor baby. Man. And what was with the chemistry with Sara while poor greg was lying and bleeding internally to death? Huh? Did she forget about her fling with Grisolm, or is Greg just the younger man?

And Kevin Federline as a guest star? Kevin Federline? What? Ok, I can see if the guy wants to audition and get a bit part like anyone else, but what the hell is with the 'guest star' credit? What the hell has he done to earn that, besides knock up Brittany Spears.

And that's all I gotta say about that.
Hey. What's up?

I'm on my way to work. So, amongst yourselves for now.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006


Ok, settle down people. Take your seats. You there, put down that pizza. The meeting is starting now.

So...this week's meeting of the I Hate Horatio Caine Club has now come to order. Kawano , you were the last to join, so I hope you brought the beer. And if any of the new members did NOT throw random objects at your TV screen during last night's episode of CSI:Miami, please slink out the back door now. Thanks.

Ok. New club business. There is a new blog sidebar button available. Pick one up on your way out. Careful of the pin on the back, it's a little tricky. And may contain lead. Sorry 'bout that.

Let's now discuss why we hate Horatio Caine this week. Super Horatio's part in last night's episode was mercifully scarce, but he still managed to tick me off. How? By using another character's name FAR too many times to make a point. For example, if 'H' were speaking to me, he may say something like:

"Tara. Here's what we are going to do, Tara. Tara, I want you to cut me to shreds on your blog. Tara, can you do that, Tara? Tara, I need you to do that for me. Tara. Don't worry, Tara, nobody will ever, Tara, hurt you again, Tara. Tara. Here's my card, Tara. Tara, you call me, Tara, whenever, you, Tara, need me. Tara."


Now. I KNOW that this week's meeting started a little late. I'm sorry. I can only blame Horatio Caine for making my day really busy and frustrating. I am also blaming him for:

~ waking up with a migraine
~ my clothes not getting dry in the dryer
~ the big scary spider behind my cash at work trying to eat me alive when I had a lineup of customers.
~ the mean lady at Walmart that acted all snippy, as if it was MY fault she is 95 and working at Walmart (we know who to blame)
~ bad drivers
~ bad kids
~ bad milk in my fridge
~ bad milk in ANYONE'S fridge
~ cold weather
~ North Korea

Please submit your list of things you blame Horatio Caine for when you grab your sidebar button.

Next week, we will be reviewing ways in which Horatio Caine could perish. Oh. OH, the ways he could perish.

Thanks for coming, and take your empty beer bottles to the kitchen on your way out.

Button ------->
(Just take one, leave enough for next week's new members, you greedy, greedy pig. Are you the one that ate all the cheesies, too?)

Monday, October 09, 2006

She Dressed Herself Today

So young, and yet already so filled with irony.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

So, some of ya'll know how I don't tell my family about this blog. Especially my husband. But, not to talk badly about him. Ya'll know that. Just so that it's more like a private diary. That 2 or 3 hundred people read. But, basically, it's because I want to write without worrying if what I am saying is being misconstrued by someone I know in real life.

Now, I knew it was bound to happen eventually, that SOMEBODY would finally do a simple Google search and find me here. And someone did. My sister-in-law, Steph. She almost blew my cover, but I pulled her aside and explained to her why she shouldn't mention this other, yet brilliant, side of me when in the company of other family members, especially her brother.

So, everyone give a great big blog wave to Steph.


Friday, October 06, 2006

De-Lurking Red Friday

The Tim Horton's breakfast sandwich on a biscuit was good. Surprisingly good, considering the service at all of the Timmie's around here makes me want to pull my hair out, throw the loose change from the send-a-kid-to-camp-even-though-I-ALWAYS-wanted-to-go-to-camp-so-why-isn't-there-a-grown-up-Tim-Hortons-camp-where-we-can-sit-around-all-day-and-drink-coffee-and-play-on-the-computer charity box at the cashier, then hop over the counter and start showing those stupid twits how to make a GOSH DARN chicken salad sandwich and bagel without taking a full twenty minutes.

But I digress.

Did ya'll notice anything different? Like the red? That's because it's Red Friday, to support the troops. So wear red. Do it.

And did ya'll notice the lack of Friend of a Friend Friday? Actually, no, don't answer that. If you say 'Yes, I DID notice. Huh, how 'bout that,' then I may feel so guilty that I can't sleep for weeks, and you wouldn't want that. But, if you said 'Why, you know, I never even noticed that,' then I will realize (finally) that all of this babbling and rambling is read by many, but loved by only a few stalkers (love you, stalkers!).

And, since I m SOOOO busy with my high stress dollar store job (seriously, people, it's ALL a dollar. Stop asking me the price), I have decided to switch things up a bit. My favorite ever Friend of a Friend Friday was when all of my lurkers were asked to say Hi. And they DID. By the BOATLOAD. It was great!

So, let's do that this Friday. Lurkers, silent stalkers, bad typers, whatever. If I haven't heard from you before, say hi! I LOVE finding new blogs. Especially ones that have owners smart enough to visit little old me.

All you old-bees can say Hi, too. There's enough love in me to go around. And if you don't want to see me, and are a little scared at the 'enough love to go around' comment, then go see my new tenant, instead (thumbnail on the sidebar).

Thursday, October 05, 2006


I don't have time to entertain ya'll today. I have a JOB, ya know. And, unlike some of you, my job does not involve a computer with internet access. Although we do sell blank cds for a dollar. And mousepads. For a dollar. But that's it. And I have things to do BEFORE work, people. I have to make myself pretty so I can get out of the house before Little Brat's school calls me to pick her up for having a little cough. Big deal. She probably got it from those kids anyway. So they're immune, right? No guilt here. So, I need to flee. To Tim Horton's. To try the new sausage and egg breakfast sandwich on a biscuit. I know, that doesn't sound all that exciting to my American readers, but there is something you may not know. Canada doesn't do biscuits. Really. No biscuits at KFC. No biscuits at McDonalds. No biscuits anywhere. Except maybe Denny's. And a box of Bisquick if you want to make them yourself. Canada doesn't do sausage gravy, either, but that's a whole other issue.

So, since I am FAR too busy to be entertaining, I will throw some photos at you. Duck.

This is how pretty my house is in the fall. Although, it would be prettier if it wasn't raining. And my chimney wasn't in need of repair. Whatever.

And this is my proof that I HAVE been crocheting. See? Right there. Proof. You'll find out what it is soon. Hopefully.

And here is One-Eyed Bob. I don't think he's actually one-eyed. But he likes it when we call him that.

And here is proof that One-Eyed Bob is a HUGE HAIRY BEAST. See. It's not just paranoia. See. It's also proof that I do actually have a husband. Or somebody's husband, anyway.

Monday, October 02, 2006

The NEW I Hate Horatio Caine Club

That's it. That's IT. I've had enough. I'm at my limit. I cannot, CANNOT, let this continue anymore.


Horatio Caine MUST be stopped. I am hereby bringing to order the very first meeting of the I Hate Horatio Caine Club. So far I am the only member, but I imagine a few of you may join in. If so, here are some ground rules. These rules are designed to keep out anyone who secretly admires Horatio Caine and must therefore be ridiculed by the rest of the club.

1. NEVER wear your sunglasses indoors. It was not cool when Corey Hart did it, and it's just plain creepy when Horatio Caine does it.

2. NEVER call somebody, or have anyone call you, by the first initial of their name. For instance, never call me 'T'. Ever. I mean it. I'll do the same for you.

3. ALWAYS look at a person when you are talking to them. Yes. I mean the WHOLE entire sentence. Don't look out into the horizon over the ocean/at the big white mansion in the background/into the depths of the shimmering Miami pool water with flowing scraps of white fabric blowing in the breeze behind it and then turn to the person you are talking to at the very last word of the sentence, glaring at them through your creepy sunglasses. It's stupid. Real stupid.

4. NEVER EVER EVER crouch down to a small kid and say something creepy like "I'll always be here if you need me," in a deep and gravelly whisper, then handing them a card with your name on it, knowing that handing the kid said card means he/she will soon be placed in imminent danger.

5. If you are a kid, NEVER EVER EVER accept a card from Horatio Caine. Seriously. Never. Imminent danger.

6. Do NOT act like you, and you alone, can control all of the criminals in Miami. All of the mob, the ganstas, the rappers, the rich kids killing their girlfriends, etc, etc, etc. You are NOT a God. And I am pretty sure there is more than one police station in Miami.

7. DO NOT gather all of your co-workers together at the end of a long day and have them meet you on the beach with nothing but big black Hummers for a backdrop. And, while you are not there, DO NOT then line said co-workers up and walk down the beach with the sunset behind you, trying desperately to look like a) superheroes in expensive business suits that are far too fashionable for any cop to wear, b) a wannabe boy band, but without any boys (ya, you heard me, oh yes I did say it), or c) the only thing that stands between the law-abiding citizens of the planet, and total destruction at the hands of gussied up drug dealers with nice cars and hot porn star girlfriends.

8. Do NOT have some stupid clever line for each and every tragedy that befalls someone. Seriously. Show some sensitivity.

9. DO NOT date and/or marry your employee's sister who is dying of cancer but looks like she just walked off the fashion runway. And if you do, don't be surprised when she finds some way to get herself killed shortly afterwards. Because, really, who wouldn't?

10. And most importantly, whatever happens in the I Hate Horatio Caine Club STAYS in the I Hate Horatio Caine Club.

So, what do ya'll say? Any new members? Initiations start next week, during CSI:Miami. You have to throw random objects at the TV whenever Horatio Caine is talking. And don't wimp out and throw things like marshmallows or bread crumbs or anything.

Whoever is the last to join brings the beer the next week. Deal?

Meeting adjourned.


My thoughts are rather jumbled at the moment. Due to my cold. Or the cold medication. Or both. Whatever. Let's do this post in point form, shall we?

~ I HAVE been crocheting. There is even a pattern forthcoming. But, I need to find the charger for the camera batteries. I think it's hiding. Either that, or my office is just a big mess and I can barely find my own self in here, but I'm pretty sure it's just hiding. That little rascal.

~ I got my advance payment for my previously alluded to publication that's coming out in March. Yay. Now I can afford to have my septic tank drained. Woohoo! Fun times. Fun times, indeed.

~You know what I really hate? When I get a cup of coffee and there is lipstick on my coffee cup.

~You know what's worse? When the cup came out of my own cupboard.

~My dad is getting out of the tanning salon business. Didn't I tell ya'll he owned a tanning salon? Huh, well, he does. At least for a few weeks. He used to own an oil change shop. Sold that, too. Now, he wants to buy a kayak and canoe store. Not that I don't think that would be cool. And I would be in charge of the website, which would rock. But the guy is almost 60 . He flew helicopters for 25 years. He's worked harder since he retired. Dude. Take a break, already.

~I think I need gel insoles for my new shoes.

~Dollarama is still fun. But I am working a TON more than originally planned. That's not bad, just a bit of a shock. I was only supposed to get a few hours a week, to work around my alleged husband's and non-alleged kids' schedules. Unfortunately for my boss (but not for me), he has to keep firing people. They're dropping like flies! And everytime someone gets canned, I get extra shifts added to my schedule. And my alleged husband and kids can work around ME once in a while. Ha.

~A friend of mine had a great idea. She thinks we should start an agency for part time husbands for military wives. You know, somebody to hang out at your house and open jars and kill spiders and reach for things up high and ask where things are that are right in front of their face, for heaven sakes.....Etc. No, not the OTHER husband stuff. Perverts. Just the basic husband things that you may be without for a few months at time. The only problem is......finding the part time husbands. Because they would have to be better looking than our own real husbands. And if your man is army already, that's pretty hard to beat. And they would need a uniform, too, because if he's been gone a while, you'll miss the uniform. And good looking guys in uniforms don't come cheap, my friends. Unless.......what if I offered beer? I wonder.....

~ My house and yard look GORGEOUS right now. All the vines on my house have changed to fall colors. If I can ever find that damn battery charger, I'll show ya'll. But trust me, it's very pretty.

~I really can't think of anything else right now. I took some daytime cold stuff, but I think it may be having an opposite effect. Or reacting badly to the pot o'coffee. I am getting a little befuddled. I think I may go back to bed. Four year olds can take care of themselves without incident, right?

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Fear not, dear friends and fellow bloggers. I have not abandoned you. I am simply DYING of a bad cold. EVERYTHING hurts. I am placing the blame on either Little Brat's forays into kindergarten, or the aforementioned WET money. Either way, I'm now DYING.

I am attempting to crochet through the pain.