Just a quick one

Today as I was out shopping with my mother I was reminded why I do everything early. What a mad house out there. I can't imagine the huslte and bustle in the larger centre's. Where I live is bad enough. It felt Christmassy though which was rather nice. That was until we hit the stores. It kind of went down hill from there. Oh well, its going to be a rather interesting Christmas anyway. Things are all topsy turvy and I can't wait to see how it plays out. I plan on taking a lot of Robaxastuff to make it through. Everyone might notice if I'm drunk(it won't take much) but the Robaxastuff nobody will ever know. I will however pluck my eyebrows before hand to avoid anymore situations like the last one.

I discovered a new sport to add to my house cleaning array of fun. Speed bed making. The goal of the game is to make the bed before the dogs know what you are doing before they all jump on and in the sheets. Our Corgie X like to get under the sheets and have me make the bed over top of him. Where upon he will procede to scramble and attack them as if they were his worst enemy. By the way, I've yet to win the game. Whats worse, I have to help the Beagle up so he is in on the fun.

Well, Coffee and smoke are done. Time to get back at it.

A New Era

The tree is up and decorations are scattered about. We have a new tree this year thanks to my sister and mom. I was ready to put old Hareld (My daughter named the tree) up but I guess my descriptions of a tree held together with tie straps and kilt pins was more than my family could take. I was looking forward to seeing how many more lights I could get on the old tree. The new one is a georgeous fibre optic. Normally I don't like the fibre optic but this one, the more I stood looking at it the more I really liked it. It has very pretty lines and frosting on the tips. My sister accused me of choosing it for the price and not the tree. (it was a really good deal)

In a rather strange way it feels like an old era is gone. The house has changed looks going from florals to rich deep dark colours and less clutter. Even the tree has less ornaments on it than normal. For the first time the house is done with a little bit of thought rather than mish-mash thrown around because dear old Aunty Whojamicky gave me that stuffed whatjamicallit. I was ruthless and threw out one ornament because it was broken. Hubby was nicely surprised coming home to a house that was not wall to wall Christmas stuff all over. Daughter wasn't too happy with it. Her first comment was the tree needed more ornaments. All in all change has happened and for the better.

Daughter is turning twenty and still wants a chocolate advent calendar. I'm wondering if there is going to be a letter and cookies for Santa sitting out by the fake fire on the tv screen on Christmas Eve next. (We don't have a fireplace and the DVD works quite nicely even if she thinks I'm a dork) She is going through the pains of the threshold of adulthood and searching for her own identity along the way. Its been rough. I am watching as life removes the innocence from her eyes and wishing there was someway I can protect her from losing it. This part of motherhood really sucks.

Normally by now I would have the baking, cards and gifts finished by now. I have never left things so late before. My mother is already stressing over the fact my older sister is having Christmas Eve at her place. I can't be bothered to stress. It takes up way too much energy. It all part of that AF thing. It will all be done...eventually.

Hubby is a little miffed that I won't go up North with him to his parents for Christmas. I just can't see how much fun it would be for me to be handling five dogs with about thirty people around. Not only that, it is the last Christmas with my daughter before she leaves the country as there is no guarentee she will be home again and our budget is not alloting plane tickets abroad at high season prices. Besides, truth be told, I really don't want to go and leave our pretty house behind. I love the warm feeling this house now has.

I got the coolest surprise yesterday. Artist popped by with a card from Scribble. I was so delighted. I have been checking Scribble's site and (I must admit) was very covetess of a nude she is working on. Normally I am not one for nudes but there is something about this one that draws you in and you want to know the story behind the woman. I like the softness of it.

I couldn't believe when I recieved this wonderful card. It's made my week. I showed Hubby the minute he walked through the door I was so excited about. Daughter on the other hand gave me one of her looks and said "Yeah that's cool, but Mom, it's a card." Nothing like children to bring you back to earth. I very patiently explained that it may only be a card to her but to me, somebody was sharing their talents with others and that I given a piece of that talent. Then there was a comment about I was never as excited about the cards she made me. At this point I said, "You were in Grade One and you coloured a snowflake then glued it on to construction paper with the teacher's printing. Some how it just doesn't seem to be the same." This led the conversation to other Christmas delights the teachers tortured the parents with.

It was perfect. The snow gently fell adding to the already white blanket covering our little town. Inside the Christmas tree twinkled while Daughter and I were laughing as more coffee brewed on the stove. The dogs lazed as the sound of a crackling fire warmed the air. So thank you Scribble. Your card will always be treasured as it brought a wonderful gift, precious rare time spent laughing with my daughter and watching her innocence return for that brief moment.

Getting in Focus

So Hubby is home today and coming up with things he needs to go do to get out of the house. I'm in one of my chatty moods which tend to drive him nuts. I do tend to go on about one topic or another. Now I understand why I need Artist in my life. She is usually the target of my chattering. Not only does she listen to me without seeming bored but she doesn't roll her eyes at me when the topic comes up for the fifth time like Hubby does. Nor does she get impatient when I focus on certain details. Hubby can only take about fifteen minutes worth but Artist and I can spend an entire afternoon on certain topics discussing some of the details. How can you tell I am really missing her.

I got to watch her in action the other day. Now here's the point where she would tell me to hush. But I got to watch her take a huge sheet that was white and turn it into a desert scene for a backdrop of a play I am helping with. Not only that she did it with coffee, tea and several packets of coloured Kool-Aide. It was so cool to watch it transform before my eyes. I'd look out my back window and see her swooping her brush or crouching down eyeing something. Not only does it look good, it smells good too.

Snow is falling today. My thoughts are returning to Christmas and all that has to be done. I have the cards ready to go. I only have to write a few personal greetings. Some gifts are bought and others I am still trying to figure out. I'm already planning the baking to be done and my time frame. I took on a little more than I can chew with the Theatre Society and that has really cut into my time. Not only am I stage managing two productions but I am also directing and the Treasurer. I also have a building fund project with another friend that we need to get on. (We are renovating a building into a theatre as the venue we have now is problematic) Then there is the books waiting to be done and I want to give the house a really good scrub before Christmas. Then there is my writing which was at the back of the shelf but recently has propelled itself into the forefront and become a priority that may shove the rest to the side.

If I just pace myself and take on one project at a time, I will get everything done but today was running around downtown. I hate those days so I always drag Hubby with me. For some reason it goes by faster. When I'm alone I always get sidetracked but knowing Hubby is waiting for me or meeting me somewhere I stay focused and get everything done.

Speaking of which, I'd better get to it. I think I'm up for a session of vacuum wrestling

Christmas Time Already?

I brought out my snowman collection to start with the winter decorating seeing as the blanket of snow is still on the ground and does not seem to be leaving any time soon. I put everything out and stood staring at the room hating it. The more I fiddled the worse it got. It was too cluttered. So I choose a few and put the rest away. I won't start the Christmas decorations until the 1st of December.

We moved here from a small isolated town up north. The city put the lights up around Dec 1st and roughly the same time for the stores to start decorating. I remember the first Christmas advertisement starting at about the last week of November. You know, Christmas carols played through the phone lines at say....Christmas Time. When did the Christmas season start a week before Halloween? Did I miss that memo? I'm pretty sure I was around for the last twenty years.

I couldn't believe watching the first of the Christmas commercialism onslaught a week before Remembrance Day. The USA hasn't even had their Thanksgiving yet and we are already listening to Christmas carols while on hold. But I totally digressed there.

I was shocked to see Christmas Tree up at the last week of November and after Dec 1st, it seemed like every window had a light display or a tree lit up. I couldn't believe the transformation that occurred in such a small amount of time. We usually put our tree up two weeks before Christmas and some years that seemed early.

I always knew when Christmas was around the corner. I would come home from school and Mom would have baked the Christmas Cakes. I still remember the warmth that hit when walking into the door. (In Prince George, snow was usually on the ground before Halloween.) The smell of the spices hung in the air causing your tummy to gurgle. The house was warm from both the oven and the wood stove fireplace (Not a huge honking actual cook stove) would be lit in the rec room. To this day I love the smell of cinnamon, ginger, cloves and allspice, with a dash of nutmeg baking. Its like a happy place for me.

I was one of the lucky ones, I have fond memories of growing up. There was the trial and tribulations of the tender years if you want to put it that way. I didn't come out of it totally unscathed but on the whole looking back I can say that I was very lucky. I had parents to were always there even when I didn't want them to be there. Christmas time over the years changed and in some cases still needs to change. Its time for the adult children to set their own.

I guess in some ways that is what the house is reflecting this year. The change that has taken place. I don't feel the need to have every single thing out for decorations and live with the discontent because its the holidays. I have discovered the "Less is More" cliche. It the first year I have really like all the wintry stuff around. I plan on doing the same with the Christmas decorations.

Mind you the "Less is More" thing does not apply to Christmas Tree lights. The more blinded the family is the better. Growing up, my father always did the lights. We would have trudged out to get the tree my father selected the day before and it would sit in the basement over night. The smell would permeate the house. Then we would wait patiently (as kids do) for Dad to get the tree into the stand and put the lights on. Then we got to decorate the tree. Growing up Dad would direct up and Mom would tell him to leave us be. He would spend the evening evening out the ornaments until he felt the tree was just right. It used to annoy the hell out of my mother but, as an adult I do exactly the same thing with the tree. Even our daughter is picky when it comes to where to hang an ornament. She wasn't home last year for the tree trimming but she sure critiqued the tree when she saw it.

We have a six foot tree. Last year I had 1500 lights on it. All clear. It was cool. I might see if I can hit the two thousand mark this year. Oh Yeah, I'll apologize ahead of time for any brownouts in the area. I gotta have my lights.

Re Grand Opening

Okay, I figured out what was happening with the dot thing but it took me changing the template in doing so. By the time I figured it out, I had already changed the template and I really didn't want to have to change it back then add the Link part in the sidebar and then my links. So here it is in it new glory!

(That is until I get the bright idea I want a font change or something like that)

Neptunians Arise

***You Are From Neptune***
You are dreamy and mystical, with a natural psychic ability.You love music, poetry, dance, and (most of all) the open sea.Your soul is filled with possibilities, and your heart overflows with compassion.You can be in a room full of friendly people and feel all alone.If you don't get carried away with one idea, your spiritual nature will see you through anything.

www.blogthings.com/whatplanetareyoufromquiz/


I checked out one of Artist's links called scribble-n-paint. (This is where I found the above site. I can't take the credit. ) Scribble is very talented and the roses are to die for. I'm honest, I'm green with envy as I look out onto my yard blanketed in snow. (Psst. Global Warming has got to be a conspiracy. Its too cold out to be considered warm.) I added the link no problem but have this dot thing that would not go away. I'm not good with puters on the best day but hey eventually I'll get it right.

On the blog, was the link to What planet are you from/, and my curiousity got the better of me and I checked it out. I'm from Neptune. My family will be happy cause now when they ask me where I came from. Now I can give them an answer. Hubby will be happy to know. He wonders too;>)

The coffee is finally entering the blood stream so I can get on with my day. Hubby's at work today. (Happy Dance, Happy Dance) Which means I can get a bunch of stuff done. I'm thinking I might bring out the snowman collection today. I think with the snow on the ground it would be fitting. And it would drive Hubby nuts. That is the bonus. I just love the extra little delights that life has to offer like driving my Hubby insane. He really does love me no matter how much protesting he does. Well I pretty sure he does. He said so once.

Life is fun.

Rambling

Have you ever had so much to say and when you sit down to say it, your mind goes completely blank. Like somewhere between the kitchen and the table (that whole two feet) it gets lost. Its not like it was an important earth shattering eureka thoughts but you know something rather amusing or entertaining. Why do I hear Artist softly laughing in the back ground of my head? I feel an age comment coming on.

Actually I discovered something. Now Artist has already heard all this so if your reading this just skip this section. Here's what I discovered. I love the feeling of my house when I have just finished cleaning it. It feels happier. Here's the thing the entire time I am cleaning my house my energies are becoming happier. The house is less cluttered therefore the positive energies are able to flow more freely. Now I can feel my mother's and my grandmother's rolling their eyes at me. My mother only lives four blocks away and my grandmothers have past on. None the less I can feel their amusement at my statement. But the minute my house gets cluttered I notice that the moods in the house decline with the lack of positive energy flowing. Now Hubby just laughs at my de-stressing the house. But I've watched Hubby walk through the door and as he is taking off his shoes he starts to relax. The days I don't do it, he is restless and can't sit still with his mind racing. And I'm the one who has had caffeine all day. I think I know why I am constantly calming the house energies down.

(And this one Artist) I noticed the dogs are calmer when the house is cleaner. Hubby is home today doing projects. I think. Stuff is gathering and cluttering. I know it will be eventually put away. But the dogs are seemingly more barky at every little thing. As for the cat, he's happy when his domain is clutter free. It allows him more room to torture the dogs.

(Its over with now Artist You can start reading)I think my fish has Ick. So I have been giving the fish treatment. So far the fish has survived. We have lost two of the pond fish. Every time Hubby adds fresh water, one of the fish die. I'm not sure who is left. My favorite Ming who was a coppery black died. He was the first. Hopefully we won't lose too many more. Where we get are fish from may not give us such good deals any more.

I went to the doctor's today. That was fun. Have you ever had the luck of walking into a full waiting room complete with screaming kids and the only seat available is the one by the old smelly guy. I'm not sure what Ladaum smells like but I think this guy cornered the market. He had a really loose phlemmy cough. You know the type, it goes one and on while the lungs empty out complete with the disgusting sound of clearing the throat at the end. What's with old people and that lavender, tiger balm, and menthol scent? Is there like a rule that old people in waiting rooms must smell funny. No offence to old people. I'm sure they all don't smell that way. My mother certainly doesn't. Now It looked really pointed that the only seat empty was beside this guy and if I stood. So I sat down. Lucky for me he was called right after I sat down. As he walked by, his rear end let out a sound only a trumpet would envy, and left a stench that hurt eyes. I pretended to look for something in my purse trying to breath. Unfortunately its canvas and doesn't provide enough of a barrier. The sad thing is I don't think the guy noticed his wake of people trying politely to find clean air to breath. What really added to the irony, when I left the doctor's office, the waiting room was practically empty.

I really miss my fish pond.

Hubby

The house is almost back to normal. I say almost because that Dark Being called Hubby is once again home today and I am very afraid. With a sore back we rearranged the bedroom because it needed to be cleaned. Of course my logic was then just clean the bedroom rather than rearrange the bedroom. I know silly little woman's logic. There is not enough robaxa-what ever its called to help with the pain I felt the next day. And he flippin wonders why I like it much better when he is working.

I am just thankful at the moment he is off at someone's house playing with their computer. I like my time in the house alone so that I can get things done without interruption. I am so not looking forward to retirement with him around 24/7. I may have to come up with longer Honey Do lists. The only problem with those, Hubby doesn't read them. I am still waiting for trim to be put up in our daughter's room and it was re-done about two years ago now.

I had a discussion with his mother on this topic. There is something in the men's DNA in his family ancestry that they can not finish an entire reno without leaving six inches that needs to be done. Ask Artist about my floors. I have lino being held down with slate tile cause Hubby is going to fix it. That has been five years now.

When I do something I really have to struggle to finish the entire project so I do not have to come back later. Hence the done part. For Hubby, this is a strange concept. I love the man dearly but there are times when I just want to reach out and slap him hard. You know, so hard your hand hurts. Then I take a deep breathe and slowly let it out and begin the nag.

Its like the grinding of the teeth at night. I have not had a decent night's sleep for two months now. One night it was so bad I could hear it as I was going downstairs to the sofa to sleep. The sofa is a love seat and trying to share it with a snoring Beagle and a shaking Chihuahua doesn't guarantee a fitful sleep either.

But hey, all is quiet except for the grinding of the washing machine. Maybe I can sneak a cat nap in. Somehow, I just can't see it happening. Oh well, thank God for Coffee.

It Don't Impress Me Much

I've started writing like, eight times now trying to formulate thoughts and get them down but for the last few days I have been feeling distorted in the brain. I have also been extremely bitchy because of my back and the frustration of not being able to get anything done. I have laundry piling up, books to get done, dusting and the coralling of the dust bunnies rampaging throughout the house. I really miss the fish pond right about now.

Have you ever met someone that you know you won't like no matter how you try to put aside your notions. I met a woman yesterday that showed up for auditions in a production I am co-directing. She walked in carrying Psycology Today as though she was a Jehova Witness pawning off their dogma. Some how I knew before she opened her mouth she was going to be from the east. "Would you believe I got lost, and I'm from Toronto."

My mother said it years ago. People from Toronto love to let you know where they are from and usually do within the first two sentances. You know, "The shopping is nice here but the malls in Toronto, where I live, have so much more variety." type comments.

Maybe what irritated me about the woman was the way she opened the magazine ensuring we could see the cover as she held it. The other director and I stepped out for a quick smoke while we waited for more to show up. When we came in she makes the comment about my dirty habit.

First of all, its not only rude to make such comments but as she doesn't know me from Adam what gives her the right to say something. I did not smoke around her or near her as I was outside enjoying the sun having a discussion about the production. I didn't say to her, you know, if you laid off the food, you might fit on the chair. I just smiled sweetly and said as every thing else in my life was organic, I needed one vice so my husband wouldn't think I was perfect. This of course caused my co-director to make a snorting sound while he tried not to laugh.

I did try with her. I gave her a run down on the type of group of people the society was made up of. An idea of the type of productions we do. For community theatre we do very ambitious productions. For some reason, the more difficult, the more appealing. We should be more afraid of the calibre we have taken on but nope, we just forge ahead hoping seats will get filled. Finally after nobody else showing up, we let her read. Somebody has got to show up for the other auditions. Or we might be in trouble.

The thing I think that I picked up on was that Psuedo-type personification. Its hard to describe. It was the show of the magazine and the way the comment was said. It was the general demeaner of her. Just one of those things I guess.

Here's the thing. If you want to impress me with your intelligence, try using a sense of humour. Psycology Today isn't going to impress me.

Sick Days

So Hubby has been home sick for two days. This has thrown everything out of whack for me. Its hard to explain. He comes downstairs blows his nose, then asks me or tells me something. If I am in the middle of something he will get cantankerous because I wasn't listening. The fact that I might be up to my armpits in receipts or in the middle of cooking has no bearing in his thought process. If I stop what I am doing and wait, he'll look at me and ask "What?" or something stupid like "Just ignore me." Pretty hard to do that. Like when he wants to watch a friggin movie at 9:00 am.

Okay here's the thing. I am prone to migraine headaches. I try to avoid many of the triggers that can throw me into that void. One of them is loud noise in the morning. I do not play any music or have the TV on in the morning because that can aggravate my brain. I need total calm and quiet. There are some days I know I can't be anywhere near the noise. Those are the days I just putter around the house or do books. Even the dogs can sense those days. The Beagle uses them as an excuse to stay cuddled up to me.

The Beagle hates the days I am busy cleaning. I never stay in one spot. One time I was running upstairs so much he gave up following me. I found him laying on a middle step snoozing waiting for me to emerge from cleaning the upstairs bathroom. I love that dog way too much. He gets away with way more stuff than the others. I love the other dogs just as much but the Beagle has a very special place in my heart. There is something about old dogs that pull at the heart strings.

On the other hand when they walk into the parlor and pee on a blanket without asking to go out then we have a problem. Time to dig out the bleach.

Coffee Talk

So my eyebrows still friggin hurt. Who ever came up with waxing was either a sadist or a masochist. May be even a bit of both. Hubby just laughed at my glowing red eyebrows. Yeah, there's a moment I want to remember. Hubby leans in to kiss me and then starts chuckling. I feel that love.

I decided today to put myself on a time schedule. I thought it might be a way to streamline my time to allow for more fun. This way I would have a good idea of where my time is spent. This was an effort in futility. OMG! I spent three flippin hours trying to sort my time in an effort to have more free time. I haven't progressed anymore on this. I work at it later in my spare time.

The other day I ran out of coffee and Artist generously offered to loan me some. Then she quips "but your so picky about your coffee." Picky! Not when you've been nursing what little caffeine you have in the house. Eight tea bags in a cup of boiling water does not substitute for a good strong cup of coffee. The caffeine rush just wasn't there. I stood and smelled the coffee Artist loaned me that I sent Hubby into the blinding cold to retrieve. (Okay, so it was really mildly dewy and chilly. And Hubby only had to go five houses down.) It was good coffee. I don't know what makes her think I'm picky. (Okay so maybe it was my pontification on the organic stuff but other than that I really can't figure it out.) She hasn't tasted my mother's coffee lately. Weak is an understatement. More like hot brownish watery liquid with hint of French vanilla and the reused coffee bean. I drink water because I like my water plain and cold. I love my mother dearly but the coffee needs a little something. Like maybe Coffee? Thank god she will never read this.

Hubby picked up coffee beans. He thought they were organic but they weren't. I don't care, its caffeine and a lot of it. I immediately brewed a pot filling the house with its erotic...I mean exotic aroma. Hubby's response "What? At this time of night? I have to work early." Strike fantasy number 28 off the list. Again.

Hubby was grumpy last night because we lost one of the fish. Ming went to the fish pond in the sky. Hubby was really upset. I know there are people who really connect to fish and have emotions of fondness towards their fish. I am not one of them nor did I think Hubby was. I guess I found out he is a closeted fish lover. I like my black molly named Pickles. I think he is cute and I enjoy watching him but I don't think I'll be stampeding around the house like a furious bull if Pickles happens to die.

Maybe Hubby didn't have enough caffeine yesterday?

Never Pluck Your Eyebrows Under the Influence

I fell down the stairs the other day and to everyone's disappoinment and Hubby's relief there is no funny story to it. I simply tripped over a dog and landed on my kiester and fell down the stairs. I picked myself after sobbing for an hour in pain. Everything seemed okay. Then yesterday as I was getting supper ready in the morning I could feel my back go and my hips starting to twinge. Hubby drove me to the bank and after seeing to my task I got back into the truck and told him to get him home and once I hit the door everything crashed.

Now today I have some movement but was up early because of Hubby's teeth grinding. So I'm feeling the pain. I took a Robaxa what-ever which is a muscle-relaxant. So now I'm slightly feeling a nice little buzz when I get the idea to pluck my eyebrows. I heat the wax up and apply it carefully. I pressed the strips in to the cooling wax and wait. Then (here's where we cringe) I ripped off the strips. I spewed forth an untterance something like this, "S***, S***, G*d D***, ow, ow, ow, ow, S***" while trying not to jerk my paining back. My nose piercing didn't hurt that much. Tears are streaming down my face as I am trying to breath away the sharp shooting pains through out my hips. (That's the Arthritis) Then I think what possessed me to think this was a good idea.

Now the initial pain has started to subside I take a look. I managed to rip off enough hairs to cause that much pain but not enough to have made a dent in the black forests above my eyes. So what do I do, I do it again! This time thinking the more wax the better. I stabbed the linen cloth into my brows smushing the cloth, waited then once again proceeded to pull the strips off. More pain, more cursing and not enough hairs but just enough pulled to leaved a huge hole surrounded by little black hairs. So I get out the pluckers and did it the old fashioned way which oddly enough, DIDN"T HURT AS MUCH.

I'm going to bed. I think I need sleep.

Quick Addition to Last Post

So Hubby read the Good Wife's Guide and wanted to know what man wrote it. I mentioned I was thinking of adopting some of the ways like not complaining. Hubby's response was "Like Hell you are, it will cost me too much." Ah, the man knoweth his wife a little too well. Must change that. Mind you he's still a little unsure of the forty thing with me. I thinks sometimes he wonders if I have gone a little bonkers on him.

If I have then oh well, its way better than I was before.

Today started out rough but once I changed my attitude its not to bad dispite the lousy weather. Poor Artist had to endure my rant of squeezed bread loaves and nearly having been hit in a parking lot. Funny she grabbed a coffee after it rather than steeling herself before with one. I'll have to think on this one.

1955's Good Wife Guide

My older sister gave this photocopy of an article from Housekeeping Monthly May 13th 1955. My initial reaction was OMG women actually believed this crap. There is 16 hints in this thing starting with having dinner ready as it is part of a warm welcome to show you have been thinking of him. I will give some examples

"Be a little gay and more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it."

Then a couple of hints as to picking up and dusting before the husband arrives. My favourite which is too long to type is on preparing the children and minimizing noise.

"Be happy to see him"

"Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him"

"Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember his topics of conversation are more important than yours"

Lets see, Little Jimmy just murdered his football coach for benching him is not as important as Honey, I had such a time with that paper clip. (Remember folks he has a boring job) How about Honey we were robbed or do we just let the poor guy walk in while talking about his day at the office and see if he notices the doileys are sitting on the floor.

Another favourite -"Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count it as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day."

Okay here is a slightly demented view. Did women really believe this? In this day and time, for everytime Husband did this, I'd have a new shiny rock hanging from my body somewhere. So the house goes into repo. He'd eventually learn and I'd would never have said a word.

Another little hint about taking off his shoes while talking in relaxing tones. Hubby would freak if I ever did such a thing. He would be looking for my flask or pill bottle.

The next two are the kickers (and worth the length of typing)

"Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness." (and the kicker to this one) "You have no right to question him." (Pulleeeze. Only if I was married to a made guy)

And the icing on the cake, "A good wife always knows her place."

I know this was written by a man. It had to be. Who else could come up with this crap. And if it was a woman, I want to know what she was smoking? Wouldn't you love to go back in time and walk up to this person, show them the article and ask "What the frig you were thinking?" Then just haul back and slap them.

Here's my Guide for the Good Hubby

* Must have an income that can support his wife's weekly visit to the day spa or must have the potential to earn such figure.

*Listen to your wife with your feminine side. Understand her emotions are not the result of that time of month or the change of life but that they from the fact you yet again left your dirty underwear on the bedroom floor and the dog decided they were a good chew toy in front of the minister (or priest/rabbi/head mistress of the Thoth temple).

*Prepare yourself, brush your teeth before having sex. Its the little things that will turn your wife on, like hygiene.

*Don't ask questions about her actions or question her judgment or integrity. Remember as the husband it is your duty to stay in the dark about things to do with money spent, household redecorations or the children.

*Be happy when she discovers a sale. She is saving you money.

*Take an interest in her conversations as she is discussing world peace, organic cooking or the Prime Directive no matter how many times the topic comes up after a bottle of wine.

*Clear away all computer wires, cords and god know what cable for whatever electronic. Finish all household renovations to the last inch. It makes cleaning an easier job and doesn't make your wife as irritable.

*Don't pout when your wife is too tired to have sex or complain she is never at home. It is unbecoming in a husband. Instead tend to her needs and try to understand her worries and stresses. She needs to relax and unwind.

*A good Hubby always knows he is wrong.

Good Morning!

My mornings usually consist of my getting up letting dogs out as they wander (more like stampede) down the stairs. I put the coffee on then while that brews, let dogs in and load the previous evening's dishes into the dishwasher or unload it. Once the coffee is ready, I sit with my computer and surf the net or play games while I wake up.

This morning however, my routine got a little shaken up. In between my house and Artist, lives a woman, her two adult children and her teenager daughter. I have countless ideas for an alias for them but I can hear Artist's voice in my head telling me to be nice, so I will refer to them as the Doe's.

Doe's have three big dogs and a little thing that looks like a pug cross. Two of the dogs keep escaping from the fence and love to come to our yard to fence spar. This sets the Airedale off and off course who ever is out there with him. This morning is was my Hubby's rescue, the Corgie X. I managed to get the Airedale and the Long Haired Chihuahua in without a problem but the Corgie X was standing his ground. In the meantime I know these dogs can get into our yard and if they do, good bye Corgie X. Hubby was supposed to have fixed the fence.

I ran out the back door in my bare feet hopping through the wet dewy leaves and needing to be mowed grass that is hiding god knows what (Five dogs, think about this) yelling at and chasing the stubborn little mutt who wagged his tail right into the house. So I followed him right up the stairs and continued to yell at him while he crawled under the bed. Then I proceeded to tell Hubby not to cuddle him or baby him.

Now that is something that friggin sets my noodle baking. I get mad at one of the dogs and Hubby turns around in a baby voice and coos "Is Mommy mad at you buddy? Come sit with Daddy. Mommy just a little crabby today." Or something like that in tones that would even make a baby think his nuts.

I digress. As I am telling Hubby not to moddlecottle the dog, he tells me "Don't take it out on me 'cause your mad at the dog, yell at the dog." There's that love and support. So I uttered out a couple of stern sentences to the floor at the bedside. Then stormed out knowing I lost that battle.

I so need that coffee.

What to do?

So the house is relatively neat. I have some quick cleaning to do. I could work on the books or find something to occupy my time. Its a blah day. You know, one of those days that you just can't seem to get it together. I should really clean out the wardrobes and underneath the beds but I just can't seem to get the motivation going today. Maybe it will strike later.

Maybe I should just take today and relax. Just kick around the house. Mind you a few dust bunnies went rampaging by as soon as the furnace started blowing. I could always vacuum out the vents. Hopefully there will be something on TV.

But then I do not watch a whole lot of TV. Three years ago in an effort to cut down expenses we decided to cancel the cable. Here is the sad thing, we reconnected a month ago and there was still nothing on. You would think after three years they would have come up with something new. Its all the same shows but with different formats. Oh well. Hubby and I are debating whether or not to cancel it again. It will be if we don't watch it. Our border is quite delighted with it as we have satellite and she has found a zillion more music channels to drive me insane with. I was looking so forward to the empty nest syndrome. (Heavy Sigh) We all have our little dreams.

Actually I have discovered Jazz. Its great. I put it on and go to work house cleaning. I very rarely listen to music before Jazz. The music I used to listen to, now gives me a headache. I get tired of classical and I am not into today's top forty. I was flicking through the music channels one day and discovered Jazz. It must be that turning Forty thing.

Even the house is reflecting a difference of taste. No more florals or pink all through out. I have a deep red dining room and a cinnamon coloured parlour. I have been putting away and getting rid of things that just do not reflect who we are. Both Hubby and I have changed in our tastes. I think they have definitely matured. Got knows it needed to happen. I will admit too that the reason for putting the stuff away originally was to stream line the house for quicker cleaning. Out of it came a look we like better.

Its cools when that happens. Its like the food. I changed our diet to one that was for our health rather than taste. The downside was all the cooking I have to do but the upside is, we are finding the food is tasting better. I have had to relearn how to cook and stop feeling guilty that my Grandmother's recipes are just sitting on the shelf collecting dust. I figure in time I will be able to incorporate those recipes into our diet by altering some of the ingredients to fit our diet. The cool thing about it is some of those recipes go back hundreds of years. They also take two and three days to prepare. Now I'm thinking, if I use the better ingredients for those recipes, I bet they would taste even better.

I think I figured out what I am doing today after all.

Vacuum Wrestling and Other Sports

Is it just my vacuum or to they all have this penchant for tipping over while reaching with the hose? I love my Hoover because its not a canister. I am so done with those. Not only are they awkward to use but to put away as well especially in a house that does not have any closets in any rooms. I used to store it in the upstairs bathroom but as it was the only closet before its transformation, it would fill up the tiny space. In the middle of the night, it proved to be a quick wake up after stumbling, tripping and stubbing a toe.

So now I have an upright which I absolutely love. It fits in the wardrobe, it isn't as heavy to carry and it actually has suction. But then there is the wrestling sessions to get it to reach where it needs to. The vacuum doesn't paticularily care where it puts up a fight. Its favourite spot would be the stairs for added excitement.

I have discovered other household sports during my housecleaning. There is laundry shot put. The rules are, you must have a bundle at least twice the size you are and hurl them down the stairs. The aim is to get all the laundry on the floor and not on the steps. You have as many tries as you do the bundles. Little bundles don't count because you can throw them farther. I have never hit my target. For those of you who do not have stairs, try your hallway and then little bundles would count.

If I am really in a daring mood, there is always Hot Water Dipping. You fill a sink for cleaning with only hot waterand soap then dip the cloth in to wipe or clean something. The aim is to endure the hot water for as long as possible before adding cold water. You get extra bonus's for how many hot water dips you can do.

Sweep dancing is good if you want to exercise and clean at the same time. The rules are, the brush must have contact for 90% of the song no matter what is playing. Artist came in on one such occasion but I don't think she caught me. I'm positive she wouldn't have let that one go.

My daughter was very good at the Phonecord High Jump. We have a cordless but I got tired of losing it or the battery dying so we picked up a replica of the old phones to sit out. It ties in with the antiques and doesn't look out of place. If I am on it the jack cord is very long so I can move about down stairs. Depending on my location the phone cord at times can be taut and about 6 to 7 inches off the floor. My daughter only tripped once over the cord but ever since then she has managed to reach even higher heights. I'm so proud.

I personally like the Clothesline Crunch. That's where you bend for the laundry basket and reach for the clothesline, then stretch for the clothes pins. Its a seasonal type of aerobics. Doesn't work the same with the dryer, but I'm working on that.

Bedtime Thoughts

Okay, where did summer go? One minute I was happily sipping coffee by the fish pond and then within twenty-four hours I'm locked inside the house with five dogs while its pouring rain outside. And when did the leaves change? This is what happens when you spend two days chained to a chair madly catching up on all your work. Then you spend another two days cleaning the house 'cause you were too busy madly catching up on the paper work. I have to get my typical day schedual going some how.

And for some insane reason I have yet again committed myself for the fall, winter and spring to our theatre group productions and a smaller one that is independantly (within the confines of the group) being produced. This is going to be an interesting year and is definitely going to test the limits of my quest for stress free living.

Oh well, I guess some of the insanity in the family does stop with me.

So, I decided to get my nose pierced as a result of a little challenge set forth by my younger sister. She was always the more adventurous one out of the two of us. I was always home before curfew, she was always late. You know little things like that. I decided it was time to step outside my little comfort zone. You know mark my 40th year with something that I would have never done in my previous life or B40 (Before 40). So what the hey. I want something tiny that just sparkles enough but not something large and obvious. I already have my stud and will choose another hopefully just as tiny to wear for the first month until I can put the one I bought in. And I am actually excited about it.

Life is cool.

Typical Day

Its another kick back day. I will be joining the fish soon but right now I am sitting inside amazed my house is looking clean. I was about to say that I really didn't do much today but its early noon, the bed is made, shopping done at the farmers market, kitchen floor scrubbed and the house picked up. So I guess I actually did some stuff today. I strive to do one extra thing cleaning each day. Here's what I do, on a typical day, I clean the house for two hours, work on the books for two hours, then get the majority of supper ready and by that time I usually have free time. Somedays I decide to carry on with the task at hand or I go back to do more cleaning.

That is, on what is supposed to be a typical day. A non-typical day means that I start out doing one with the intentions of only doing that task for two hours and something usually interrupts me. A phone call, a drop by for coffee or one of the dogs needs a bath. Something along that line to interrupt my two hours. And per the usual, one thing leads to another and my original task has been abandoned. I have the attention span of gnat somedays.

Today was a non-typical day. But I already knew that starting out. So for once I was ahead of the game. Tomorrow with be another non-typical day as I will be in Border's room helping her to clean out and organize. But something will have been accomplished. Now Friday should be a typical day unless Hubby is home. Then it becomes Non-typical. I'm beginning to come to the conclusion albeit slowly, that my Non-typical days are more typical than my typical days. But then when a typical day happens I do appreciate the fact it happens. Those days are great.

Oh well, I hear the fish calling me. Better put in some pond time.

Kicking Back

Housework is all done, cookies baked, apple crisp baked, and the books are as caught up as they are going to be for now. Even my hands are giving me a relatively pain free day. It’s now September, which means my Manitoba Maples are shedding their leaves. They are the first to come out in the street and the first to fall on the street. That’s okay, they are lush, green and form a canopy during the hottest part of the year.

With the baking and the fresh coffee perking on the stove, it will only be a matter of time before Artist finds her way down to the pond. For the first while that I knew her, she had the uncanny knack of appearing for coffee with twenty-four hours of my baking. Now she will tell you that I was always baking. Now here’s the conundrum, was Artist over so much that she always caught me baking or was I was always mixing a batch of cookies. I figure it will be one of those mysteries of life they never solve.

It’s a good day to kick back and relax. Especially when the phone is inside the house so no one will reach me. With the odd out bursts from the dogs defending their turf from every predator out there. Did you know that a little old man with an equally old poodle could possibly be a threat to their turf? This of course results in my bell like tones, yelling at the dogs to shut up. Mind you if the little old man was scoping out the house for his grandson to rob then at least our house will not be a target. I will admit I tend not to yell when it’s a questionable person walking by.

My Hubby’s rescue, is a furry mix of god know what. He’s really cute but extremely fence aggressive. He will start it more times than not from underneath the shed. Then there’s my so-called Chihuahua. I paid an airline ticket and hotel fees to get this dog. Now I absolutely adore him. But I do admit he has some very angry issues to deal with. He hops sideways when he is at his worst. The first time I saw this I burst laughing which did not help in shutting up the dogs. He is the first one at the fence and looks behind him to see whether or not his back up is coming. If they are, it only urges him on. If not, he lets out a few yips to call them. Then the Calvary arrives from inside the house. The Beagle hangs back to figure out which direction everyone is at so he can come up the rear. The sad bit is, he will go the wrong direction if he has been sleeping. The two little one will lead the charge to the back fence and the Beagle will run to the front. Hubby explained as the Beagle was covering the weak spot.

On a typical day this is the normal routine. But then you throw the cat into the mix and you’ve got entertainment for the entire afternoon. Just depends if the cat has had his treaties or not. Who says I have no life? Not me.

I had one once. I traded it in for a broom and dustpan. Best trade I ever made.

Baby

Finally the eczema is letting up and things are getting caught up around here. I spent a few days taking the chance to get caught up on the paper work. Of course the house went to hell in a hand basket. So yesterday I donned the gloves and attacked the house. Today I only have a few things to do and all will be as done as quickly as possible.

Hubby's new hours are really wonky. I got to take the Baby out for shopping. I miss driving that truck. We drove crap vehicles for years. The Dodge Caravan I drove had an engine that would overheat within a half hour of driving it, no heat in the winter and a wiper that did acrobats in the middle of a torrential down pour. My mother bought it at an auction cause she thought it was a good deal. For the guy who sold it maybe. We poured too much money into that thing. Hubby's car which was a really wonderful car, was a 1983 Buick. I have to admit I cried when we brought it to the wreckers.

How not to buy a vehicle. Clapping your hands and bouncing in the passenger seat at every little thing, like heat. Hubby came home one last September and said there was a vehicle that was really low for payments and good on gas then asked if I would like to take a look. So we hop into the crap van and take a look. Its a silver Toyota Echo. Its really cute. But, I get thinking, 5 dogs, camping equipment including tent, food and screenhouse and possibly more that two humans. I expressed my thought to Hubby who said "Lets see what else there is."

We went to the used car lot of a dealership we bought the Buick from and was looking at a large sedan style when I see this Burgundy GMC suburban. Lets skip to the past briefly for those who may someday read this, My first vehicle I bought all on my own, that I never had to share with anyone, was a two toned, 1984 GMC Sierra Classic. I loved that truck. It was my baby. It had the best feeling about it. That truck loved me. This was an affair that started my love for GMC. I missed that truck when I sold it to move where I live now so much I was heartbroken. There was one parked by an apartment building, same year, same colour, same everything. I walked or drove by it hoping that they would put a for sale sign on it.

So I'm looking at this suburban and I said to Hubby what about that, pointing to the vehicle. He walked over and took a look. He said "Yeah maybe." Ah, a sign hope. The more I look at this truck the more I wanted it. It gave me the same feeling that the Buick and my truck did. We drove away and I was having an anxiety attack at the thought of not getting it.

After supper I went to Hubby's dungeon and said "Let's talk truck." And he blew. He tore a strip of hide off me that left me seething inside. He ranted, it wasn't the right time, he just started a new job, we can't afford the payments, and a bunch of other stuff. I sat on the step of the dungeon and when he was done I stood up. My fury is now so great, I am shaking. I knew if I started I might of done bodily harm to this man. This was the sixth time he had pulled it. Like a fool I fell for it. In my angry quiet voice, which is the dangerous one, I said between my teeth, "Fine. I will never go look at another vehicle with you so long as we are married. This is the sixth bloody time that you have done this. I will drive those shit vehicles in to the ground and then walk before I look at another car or truck with you." I went up stairs and cleaned the kitchen.

I didn't speak to him the next day except to tell him I needed the van for groceries. He called me in the mid morning to ask if I was still speaking to him. I said no. Then he asked if I could do him a favour, not for him but a customer. So I brought him the funny looking hose from the shed and dropped if off. Here's how pissy I was. Hubby says can I be there at six on the dot. Already knowing I asked why really clipped and nasty like. He said we had an appointment to see the truck. Instead of being all forgiving and sweet, I folded my arms across my chest and said, "You said no." Hubby looked around and said "I'm tired of driving those shitboxes we own."

So I pick him up on the dot at six. He gets into the van and starts his list this vehicle must have or he will not consider it. Here's the start, "It must have a 308, it must be two wheel, it must have an automatic transmission, it must have the doors that open vertically and not horizontally, it must have a driver's seat without the lumbar support but must be comfortable." Now here is where it gets really stupid. " It must have cruise control, it must have an extra jack for cell phones other than the lighter, air conditioning and it must have a decent sound system." At that point I was concentrating on not smacking him while he drove.

We get to car lot and the salesman meets us at the suburban. He unlocks it and opens the hood apologizing because they just got it in and it hadn't been cleaned yet. I look at the engine while the guy is telling my Hubby its a 308. Bingo one down, twenty eight stupid other ones to go. This engine is clean. Not a speck of oil anywhere. The guys says, "Oh wow. Its tight." Next he explains its a two wheel automatic. Yahoo! Two for one. I walk around the back and sweetly call out. "Oh Honey it has the doors you wanted." that's number four out of the way. We hop into the cab and I see cruise control, air conditioning and very pretty sound system that is not only top of the line, but anti-theft. Hubby looks down and says "Oh look the extra jacks." At that point I had to laugh. I pointed to the cell phone holder and said, "You got a bonus."

We were handed the keys and told to take it for a test drive. I'm wanting this vehicle so bad I can taste it. Its not only met every condition Hubby set but was now exceeding it as we drove. We drove it through a few streets and asked Hubby if I could drive it. "You would drive this!" The tone was surprised. Option A) Beat Hubby with purse. Option B) Beat Hubby with purse. Dismissing those I just looked at him and said, "Excuse me, I drove a truck for years." We are out on the highway and I asked again if I can drive it. Hubby says yes as soon as he pulls over but first he wants to see how it is in reverse. I asked again when we were going forward. "Yeah as soon as I pull over." He pulled over in the car lot.

Now here is where we acted like two kids in a candy store. Hubby discovered tons of storage, I found extra cup holders. It sunk in this vehicle had leather seats and a surround sound that made you feel like you were in a concert hall. The extra bonus was the manual still in the glove box. The icing on the cake was they would take the piece of crap of a van as a trade in for $500 less than I paid for it. How cool is that. Despite a few other odds against us we managed to get Baby. Its my baby.

I'm the one who had the temper tantrum to get it and Hubby knows when we get a second vehicle, he is driving to work and Baby stays with me.

I talk to the truck every time I get into it. It knows I love it. Hubby thinks I'm a little nuts when I talk to the truck but I'm not worried. I heard him greet the truck one morning. The best thing about the truck isn't the fact that its everything I love or everything that Hubby must have, it the fact that we are blessed to be in the situation that enabled us to own it. In watching life, I have realized that we make choices. The choice to stay in our situation or the choice to somehow combat it or make it better. Somewhere along the line Hubby and I have been making the correct choices in our lives. Please don't ask me which ones cause we haven't a clue. I'm beginning to think we just kind of stumbled upon the right away a few times. But when we look around now we feel blessed. We no longer see what could be but rather what is. And what we got isn't a whole lot by comparison. We would never make Home and Garden. (Did I mention the gothic garden with the dead fountain.) The house and yard isn't middle class. More like somewhere in between lower and middle.

But I look at our friends and our lives. We a far richer than most. I was once told that a single true friend is worth more than any huge bank account. I have several, one I have never met but only through emails. I think she's in Rhode Island or somewhere like that. (I'm not good with geography of my own country let alone the USA), another who lives down the street and others who I only see once in a blue moon. They have all enriched our lives. It can't possibly get any better than this.

Can it?

Scrubbing

I scrubbed the bathroom floor yesterday. Not that it was a big job but one that had to be done never the less. Our bathroom is where the old pantry used to be hence the size. So it has room enough to fit a bathtub, sink and toilet. The bathroom is small enough you can multi task without any effort. But that is not the point.

While I was on my hands and knees with a knife attacking all the corners and the dead dust bunnies glues to the corners, I recalled sitting at a desk, answering phones, monitoring shipments and orders for the plant that I worked for. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy some aspects of the job but it wasn't what I wanted. Believe it or not, I got more satisfaction from my sparkling (okay maybe not sparking but mildly shiny) clean floor than I ever did from that job. Or from any job now that I think of it. (Except being a Mom but that goes without saying.)

The money was good. But at what expense? My daughter, my family and my relationships. I slowly figured it out that that the money was not worth it. I never wanted to be a working mother. I never wanted to be a working wife. My mother was an at home mother and I very much admire her for her choice. Before I continue I will explain something about my family, especially on my Mother's side.

The women left a legacy of not really giving a damn about what society set as the rules for women. For example, my grandmother was one of the few married school teachers of her day. She taught while she was a wife and mother as well. Her sisters, also were not lumped in with the generalization of the day. One wrote text books and another was a Professor of Education. On my mother's side, her grandmother was a single mother with nine children. She drove the mail and put the last spike in a provincial railway line.

My own mother stayed home when working outside of the house was the thing to do. Now no offense to the feminists out there, but I do ask the question who is the stronger the ones who swim with the tide or the ones who decide to against it. Personally I like it when a man treats me as a lady and holds the door open for me. I like to be called Mrs. Men and woman are different. Science has proven that but so what. It is my choice not to be a feminist because I do not feel the need to go out and prove something. I believe in equality for all despite the differences. I took a composition course for writing once. I could not believe how this turned into a male bashing session for the two hours I was there twice a week. I paid money for this?

I digress. I will save this for another rant another day. My point was I had felt more satisfaction in that clean floor than I ever had for any other task I had been paid to do. That felt so good. So good in fact I turned my attentions to the kitchen. Hubby came home took one look at the bathroom, kitchen and washer ('cause that got scrubbed too) He checked my temperature.

Here's the scary thing. I got right into cleaning out all the grubby hard to get spots. Its like I became obsessed with removing all the grime and dirt. It became addictive. One spot led to another and then to another My vision tunneled and all I could think about was how was I going to clean the next spot and hoping nobody called to break my stride. The more I cleaned the better I felt but the more my hands protested. My eczema really started to complain. So I think today I'll just do the regular stuff and ignore the rest.

But there is the fridge....

The Last 24

Now I would love to write something chipper and happy but that is not going to happen. Its like the Creator decided my nice little quiet world needed a volcano erupting, earthquake and a hurricane all at once to give me a reality check.

Firstly our border is dating a creep way to old for her who can't seem to keep his attitude in check with me. She is 18 he is 23 turning 24. Now as I have previously stated I mean no disrespect to those who have children involve in this age gap and are in such a relationship or to those involved. But I must wonder why a young man of that age must go trolling for the younger catch. Could they not find anybody over 20 to date or have they run through the lot? I have never met someone who I did not want in my home. I have only ever banned one person from my home. He thought is was funny to kick my little dog across the room during a social gathering.

This guy though, not only sounded my warning bells and sent for the Calvary. I couldn't figure why he had my instincts screaming to push him out my door. I asked him his age and he told me 22. Like that is any better than 23. Its still too much of an age gap. Our border is very sweet and very naive. She came from a home where her curfew no matter what was 9 pm. She doesn't seem to think that lying, drugs and excess alcohol is a bad thing. Or am I just too old fashioned?

I have two hours sleep because I was mulling it over in my head until my eyes burned. But can I sleep, no because my exzema has flared up. I have been battling it for a month now and just as I think its better, it gets worse again. Now I could handle the exzema but now it has aggravated my arthritis. Not only are is my skin red, itchy, blistered, oozing fluid, but now my hands are aching from the arthritis. So this has only added to the fun.

In the middle of the hoopla with the Border, the Beagle decides to have a bad dog day. From getting on the table, to getting into the garbage and constantly nagging me for treaties. Like with his bloated freckled tummy he is going to get anything other than his soy milk.

In the middle of this, Hubby called to give me his new schedule. Ten on, four off. But of course for the first week he works eight days then one day off. Some where in there is a reason why he feels he must do this. I'm not sure that the insanity is all in my head.

So now I'm feeling a little punch happy. You know, like you have had that one bottle of wine too many. Laying down only leads to the world spinning faster and faster. I know in this house, there is a soft pillow and a comfy bed. I only have to shove five dogs over so they will let me share a corner of the pillow. They are generous that way. Well except for the Chihuahua. He doesn't play well with others.

Life's little Mysteries

I was bragging to Artist while she was here for coffee about how well I have been doing at keeping my house clean. Today after vacuuming and dusting I cleaned out a nook of stuff that was cluttering. Going more streamline. (Less to dust) I turned around to see the Beagle running around tossing somebody's sock like it was a toy.

Where do these things come from? I cleaned under the sofa and chairs a couple of days ago. You would think something like that, a sock, would get stuck in the vacuum. Its like this cat toy that I found a few days ago being eaten alive buy the dust T-rex under my sideboard. I have no idea where this toy came from. My walking carpet with a heartbeat (as one friend called it) of a cat has never played with a cat toy. Dogs are much better prey. Toys are beneath him.

He is a Ragdoll. Nobody warned me this was a cat with an attitude. I was told soft, cuddly and quiet. Not a bunch of hair skulking around waiting for the Airedale to walk by to release anger upon.

My daughter got the cat hooked on these Caribbean kitty treats. If the cat does not get his little fish shaped smelly kitty snacks, he gets mad. Not only will the cat not jump up to his food, he now demands his treaties. He will meow to be put up for his food and then meow at you again. If you walk away he jumps down follows you and meows at you until to do it right. He is a patient teacher to his dense humans. But every once in a while he gets a little miffed. That's when he either will take a swing at you or try to trip you. What happened to cute and cuddly?

We did have two female cats. One was my Hubby's and one was mine. They found little bits of paper more entertaining than a ball with a bell. Hubby's loved anything that would crinkle. I hating wrapping gifts with her in the same room. I never knew which angle the cat would decided the paper need to die a slow and shredded death.

My cat on the other hand found string a much more delightful way to pass the time. She never ate which I was thankful for. I was making a wreath with a string of lights that I was planning to give the neighbours. Each year they have a little get together for on Dec 23rd. We weren't able to make it this year but I wanted them to have something that I had made especially for them. I was working on the wreath trying to pull the string of lights through the branches when I could feel something behind me snag them. I turn around to see my little kitty with eyes the size of saucers as attacked the string of light like some snake slither across the floor. I removed her teeth from the wire and pushed her back telling her no. (Like that will work with a cat intent on killing) I managed rather quickly to get the lights woven in to the wreath. But then ribbon, it was decided by my sweet little kitty, could not live. I managed to finish the wreath after I put band-aids on to stop the bleeding.

So like I say they had no use for this toy. So I haven't a clue where this thing came from. Its just one of those little things in life that make it a little more interesting.

Oh Yeah, I read that Artist. At least I don't wolf whistle and say pretty girl. I just laugh.

Rainy Day Blues

It's raining today. Normally I don't mind the rain but today I do. I guess its because I had to go shopping. Or it could be the doggy tracks piling up. I'm not sure. Its not like its even a bad day really. I managed to get the majority of my running around done in a timely manner. I was able to go for coffee and a friend's on a whim.

I think it might be the clouds. You know, the smoky gray billowing clouds that cover the sky. Not one ray of sunshine can pierce through they are so thick. There is even a chill in the air but only a hint of it. Maybe it realizing that there is only so many days left before the trees start turning colour.

Even the dogs aren't as full of energy as usual. All are lazing about on any piece of furniture that is free. Except for the Beagle. The Beagle is by my feet. Now I would love to say, it is out of loyalty to me. Nope. Its in case I move off the chair and into the kitchen where he will nag me for supper or soy milk. (This is the one I have to specialty cook for. He loves his soy milk.) And yes I will admit he is spoiled. He is old. Hounds seems to age faster than other dogs. Or its just mine.

He will stand and whine at me by the hour while I sit and complete a task. He knows when I say "Let Mommy finish her coffee." He will go lay down. But the minute my coffee is done. He starts nagging me again. Like right now for instance.

Better go feed them or Artist might complain about the Beagle waking her up.

Cooking Thoughts

Ever have one of those days where you don't want to cook. You know, you go to the fridge several points through out the day, open the door and stare. Then you close the door and open the freezer and just stare. Then you close the door and walk away. Nothing popped out, nothing appealed to the senses. And you know you gotta cook because A) you can't afford take out and B) because only that morning you pontificated about your organic, unprocessed, granola crunching diet. Which means I'm cooking.

My Hubby, bless him, is very tolerant of my sporadic attempts at trying new recipes. Now for reasons, I had felt in the past, it needed to be justified as to why I am experimenting. I would always say I saw it somewhere or I read it. Now, I tell my Hubby its Surprise Night. Will it or won't taste alright? That's the surprise if tastes good. Now I say, I thought I would try this. It feels good not having to justify myself.

Last night we had a late supper. It was too hot to cook. Except that I had to cook the dog's special tofu stew. Hubby looks into the sludge filled pot and asks if that's for supper. I swear he paled as a bit of tofu bubbled up. I said "Yep, thought I would experiment." that's when I heard it. The under the breath prayer for mercy. So, after asking him to taste to see if there was enough salt, I blew the bluff. I started to giggle at him. He was quite relieved to see the neat little packets of tin foil we were BBQing when it cooled down.

Yesterday was a good cooking day. Not today. I can't decide between pasta or rice. Potatoes are out, their just too much work. Do we go vegetarian or meat? Then there's the egg issue? And that's just way too much thinking for me.

Most days, I really enjoy cooking. Because our diet is for health reasons and not because we were pre dispostioned to granola, I spend a lot of time cooking and planning meals. If we want pizza, I make it as with hamburger and Asian.

The last time we had Asian we were so disappointed. It was our anniversary and Hubby said he'll cook. As we were deciding the best choice for our diet we went with Asian. For the money we paid, I could have gone to the grocery store and bought the ingredients; came home and made it for a fraction of the cost. It would have tasted better too.

I have a fondness for Chinese cuisine. There is something about that I get a warm comforted feeling from it. I think it stems to my childhood when my parents lived next door to Mr. and Mrs. Lee. Their family owned the Outrigger in Prince George. I was two or three years old. I remember being in the kitchen of the Outrigger. My other memory of is of Mrs. Lee. She was a tiny Chinese lady that hardly spoke a word of English but with a pretty smile. I remember her smell. She smelled so good like spices and soft flowers. Her kitchen smelled wonderful too. I would sit at her counter while I babbled on to her incoherently and she would talk to me in her language while I tasted what she was cooking. I remember Mr. Lee having a long thin face with very kind features. I often think of them. I would love to tell them that they had an influence on me.

Sigh.

I still have to figure out what I am cooking for supper. Maybe if I shake the fridge something will fall out.

The Joyful Artist

I did it! I added a link. Now it only took me an hour and a half but I did it all on my own. I am lousy with computers and this kind of thing but I try very hard to learn stuff on my own so I do not have to continually nag Hubby. Hubby is a computer technition. He tried one night to make me a little more computer savvy. My answer was, stay out of the kitchen and I'll stay away from the computers.

I would like to tell you a little bit about the Joyful Artist. Firstly, I do not need to say she is a talented artist. I have a couple of her pieces of her work and I love to see what she posts next. I have watched her develope and grow with her skill. I have seen confidence replace uncertainty as she continually hones her craft.

When we first met we were complete opposites. I was uptight, conservative, and I would also add judgemental. I can hear her saying, "Your still judgemental just not as bad." She was ecclectic, almost bohemiem, and with a carefree nature. We were at opposite ends of the stick. She was open to new people, and I was desperate for somebody to like me. She seemed to like me. Artist and I started a relationship.

This is a relationship that not only grew but taught so much. I learned a lot from Artist, more than she will think. I learned courage. Not courage to face adversity but the courage to face your emotions. I have learned to be comfortable in my skin. I have learned to listen, not just to the words but the feelings as well. She has taught me its okay to cry in front of others. She taught me to be freer with my emotions.

She has these amazing blue eyes that dance when she is telling a funny story or she comes up with a new idea. Eyes tell you a lot about a person. Hers are warm.

I lost a twenty two years old friendship. The good that came out of it was, that I appreciate the friendships I have cultivated now. They aren't based on highschool hang ups and the way we were still viewing each other as fifteen. We failed to recognize that we grew up and that we change. We still held each other in the teen age mode. I would love to strike up a friendship with her now. I hear things are good for her. We each have bettered our lives. Maybe we needed to part in order to do that.

Artist understood and listened while I sorted some of the baggage out over it. Once I got thinking about it, her friendship had somehow superceded the other. She had become the one that I relied on to make me laugh when I needed it. She was the shoulder I wanted to cry on and it was her opinion that mattered to me more. It was Artist who had become my best friend. All during the last part of that dying relationship, Artist was the one that I turned to for my reality checks within one or two phone calls. And she thinks she leans on me. She is the one who has to put up with my insanty.

Yesterday Artist and I had coffee. Overhead was a slow moving storm. You know the type, the thunder rolls soft and lazy like. Rain comes down like a sheet of water. Inside I had candles going, Micheal Buble playing in the background while we had coffee. Thunder crashed while we laughed over something funny my Hubby did. It was one of those moments that just felt so right. It was one of those moments that create the bond of soulmates.

I'm very lucky she is one of mine

Dust Bunnies from Hell

My house is in a pickle. There is clutter, books waiting to be done(I do one set of books for a client), vacuuming, dusting needing to be done. In the mean time I am getting our freezer stocked for winter. Its all part of my little scheme to keep costs down during the more expensive months. I sit down with a cup and coffee, as I type a very large dust bunny rolls by my chair. Where it came from, I have no idea. I don't think what I have could be considered a bunny. Bunnies are cute and soft. I think I have Dust Hippopotami(Spell check hasn't a clue either). Large, lumber and anything but cute. This is my cue I need to take a serious break from the harvesting (from the farmer's market)(I'm scary with a sythe) and give the house a cleaning.

I hate dusting. Always have. I have a sister who loves dusting. I knew insanity run in my family but I didn't think it end up all in one place. I always liked the look of every thing when I am finished. I try to cheat. I have used the vacuum cleaner attatchments. That works well to a point. You are still left with a film. Then I redusted. So I wasted more time trying to cut corners. I have tried dry dusting with a cloth or duster. That didn't work. I ended up having to go over everything with an oil or polish to actually pick up the dust instead of it floating through the air causing one of the dogs (The big one of course.) to sneeze. So instead of being quicker I spent twice as long redusting and cleaning a wall.

Not that my house is neat and tidy at the best of times. When it is, nobody is around to see it. I guess the messier the house the more coffee you serve. If I know someone is coming over who has never seen the house, I can clean it from top to bottom. The advantage of having a smaller older home. The disadvantage, is there is no storage areas to stash the clutter. So I actually do clean out as well. Its a bonus I guess.

Time to attack the dust bunnies. I think one just ate my Chihuahua.

Dear Anonymous

"Anonymous said...
Wonderfully smug blog... Too bad you didn't bother to give any thought to those of us who have to wait on people like you. Working on the front lines for the public is no fun. thanks for making me feel like what I do is unneeded and unnecessary. I'll never be lucky enough to have a husband or baby, much less a socially accepted relationship."

Dear Anonymous
First of all I will say now for the rest of the time I write this blog. My apologies to anyone whom I offend. It is not done with any intentional slight. This is only a vent. An avenue of expressing my individual thoughts. This is not a slur on any nation, any race, any creed, any religion, any breed or of anyone else I have not listed.

On this though, how is my rant in any way connected to this person or in any way making them feel unneeded or unnecessary? Yes I did refer to the staff as hiding or grouping like Sharks. As a customer in my town it is very much like that. Getting bitched at by a cashier is just a great way to end my shopping trip. Having trouble finding someone to help me and having to walk across a 90,000 ft store thus leaving me crippled for the rest of the day. I think there is complaints on both sides of the counter.

Having been there I learned how to deal with a diversified clientele. From the one who treated my like shit because I was merely a cashier to the ones who would thank me for being pleasant. I would wait patiently for the little old lady to count out her pennies for a can of Dutch cleanser. I wouldn't autocratically decide every teenager was a hoodlum as they stood glaring at me while they paid. I did my best to handle the customer who was threatening bodily harm as my manager hid in his office. Yep, I got the scars to. My only point of the blog was, I was once the way other people reacted in the line up. My point was I know what's its like and I stopped myself from doing that. If that was not conveyed then again my apologies and henceforth will write with more clarity.

My point is this. You don't know me or have you walked in my shoes. You do not know what tradgedies or battles I overcome. My creed is this "Do not pronounce judgment on me and I shall do the same for you." And for the record smugness only leads to self doubt. I may be many things but smug is not one of them. I don't know you or your circumstances nor is it any of my business. But I do hope for your sake and your spirit, you seek help. Because the fact you signed yourself anonymous and the tone of your message means you already feel invisible. You must see yourself first before anyone else can see you no matter what kind of relationship you seek.

May the Creator grant you many blessings
Winbul

Grocery Shopping

I went grocery shopping today. I hate shopping at the best of times. My idea of a good shopping trip is sitting with my coffee and have a cigarette while browsing through eBay. I love eBay. Shopping in big store surrounded by families with screaming children or eBay. The scales just don't tilt the having to leave the house way. I get frustrated at having to hunt down every aisle for one freakin tapered candle. And the staff is no help. If they aren't hiding in the back they are grouping like sharks.

I remember going shopping as a young pregnant newly wed. I loved walking up and down the aisles pretending to make the right choices while not having the money to do so. I remember picking up a little extra something like a treat for the dogs, feeling like I had the extra to do so, coming home and being berated for four hours cause it could have bought something else that would have given him (The Ex!) an extra lunch. Yap, and I wonder why I hate shopping and my ex. Actually he not a bad guy. He is compassionate, tender and gentle. Unfortunately, it is also combined with a cowardice, avoidance, and single mindedness. If you met him, you would he is a really nice guy. Which he is. Just not with me. He'd be so freaked if he knew I said this on a blog. Right now, I'm really giggling to myself. This is some kind of therapy! I love it. I have just informed the entire world of a small confession and nobody really cares! But its out there! This is so cool!

I have digressed somewhat. I was standing in line waiting to pay for my items. Ahead of was a young mother who felt like I did. I must explain the crap in cart cause the only thing that might possibly have any amount of nutrition is the canned beans. I look to my cart which now is full of the organic. I was so happy the store had organic chicken. I mean, I was excited as my mother looks at the price in disgust. I'm looking at the items and comparing to even three years ago. I couldn't help but laugh. I was the woman ahead explaining the mac and cheese to lady behind who has nothing but soy and organic in the cart. My how time flies.

I now hold back some of the money for the farmer's market. Now, I have know idea how a farmers market in others cities are like but I'm pretty guessing they have the familiar ways. I have never met a group of more aggressive senior citizens. Even at Walmart they give way. Oh my God, if their not giving you that "I'm on pension look" to inspire guilt to buy their crocheted granny squares then their stomping on your foot to get into line. The ones with the carts are the ones to avoid. They can claim bad eye sight as they mow you down. Now I like senior citizens. They are a hoot. Just not at the farmer's market.

Shopping is like a tedious mundane task that must done every week. My hubby claims that at least I get to spend money. Oh yeah, trying to decided between the organic raisins which are twice the price for the regular raisins, is what I call fun.

Actually one of the things I will say here, I also appreciate the fact that I have the budget the decide if I want to spend the extra on organic. Years ago I was doing a household budget of $100 and $150 a month. That was for three people, four dogs, and three cats. That money also had to cover cleaning, bathroom, laundry and any extra like a prescriptions or gifts. I was making my own pasta because I could not afford the dollar to buy it but I could afford the thirty cents to make it. Why that extra fifty cents can buy you another tin of soup for another meal. Man did we struggle. Now I look back on it, I see it gave me the tools to be able to afford going organic. I plan meals, I shop on a weekly basis, I always double check pricing. Gee, why my grocery shopping isn't a fun chore. Hey Honey, I've got an intimate night of meal planning going on, care to join? Yeah somehow I don't think the hubby would jump right in there with even the sultriest voice I could conjure up.


My mother was looking at me like I had grown a second head when I told her about the organic sour cream and organic yogurt. She gave my cart a sweeping glance then gave me one of those "that's good Dear" looks. Hey its a good shopping trip if I can find a few more items organic. My husband thinks I'm going a little nutty because I describe going grocery shopping to him likes its a night at the opera. I will give him a detailed blow by blow of what happened and who I ran into. Never mind the job that with his company he can advanced to; that's hardly a discussion but the condition of cauliflower kept too long on the shelf, is some how pertinent to his life. For some reason who I ran into at the grocery store is important in his day to day functions. Why I can sit for two hours discussing why I choose the butter over the margarine and some how try to justify it.

My daughter once told me I seek approval for everything I do. From staying at home to the groceries I buy. Actually she was right when I stopped to think of it. So I stopped. I quit justifying why I do, and will do things when I turned 40. (That whole month and a half ago) It was all part of that baggage thing, I spent a year and a half discarding. I quit explaining. I started doing instead. If someone asks I sometimes say "because I wanted too." And it feels great saying it.

So now I shop and not care that the person behind me has no meat in their cart because they are vegetarian. I am the lady with the organic cart behind the young mother with eight boxes of Captain Crunch going through the till.

And oddly enough, it feels right.

My Life as a Housewife

I have no idea where this is going but a friend does this and says it helps. She said "Its like an on line journal where you can channel thoughts and express your ideas to everyone and anyone and nobody listens to you cause there are others doing the same thing that would be more interesting." Somewhere in there I think my friend had a point. I said "I have nothing to say, that what? My existence with five dogs, a lazy cat and a fish named Pickles is going be significant to somebody else's life?"

Interestingly enough here I am. Its rather a surreal feeling as the dogs mill around my feet looking for some morsel of food to eat. The cats so lazy it just follows me around meaowing until I shove on top of the cupboard to eat because it won't jump. Oddly enough this seems normal. It becomes an arguement between my husband and I. Who's turn to put the cat up for the night.

Someone told me you could train a fish by the sound of your voice. I think it God's way of making you feel utterly stupid alone. Its bad enough when your husband catches you singing some eighties be bop song to the dog as when you are talking to a fish alone saying "Who'se the pretty fishy? Are you the pretty fishy?" And the neighbour's dog who barks at you through the window stops and cocks her head at you like your an idiot. And its even sadder that I tried it.

I once asked my mother if there was more to life than this. Her answer was "Nope, this is it." What can you do but just laugh. Here I was, the daughter asking her mother a question with limitless boundries for a deep meaningful conversation. What happens, I get "This is it." Yea, thanks Mom I feel so much better. My God, here's my life, cats, dogs, a fish, cooking, cleaning, kitty litter ect. Can it get any better than this? Strapped money, trying to cook organic, a dog I must cook for and a husband who doesn't like asparagus. Wow! I hit the jackpot. I must be the envy of every woman out there.

I do enjoy my life as dull as it is. I would describe our life as middle class. We have what would definitly be described as an older home. Our back yard has room for pool( Not that we could afford one.) and a pony? (Don't they poop?) We drive a nice older vehicle that could carry our five dogs, camping gear and tow a twenty foot trailer. (Not that we can afford one, we're the ones in the tent) Our daughter has just moved out and her best friend moved in. My husband is moving ahead with the company. I feel like frickin Donna Reed. I should be skipping along with my husband's slippers and pipe greeting him at the door. The only thing is, the high heels kill me, my figure doesn't nip in, it nips out, way out, and I can't be bothered.

We are in a good place right now. We are active in the community, we have good friends and family close by. Its like we've some how settled. We know this is the house that will be condemned after we retire and will forced to move. We know this is the area that we want to live in. We are landscaping the back yard. Okay let me rephrase that, we are playing in mud in backyard. Landscaping no? Gothic dead gardens with broken fountains, yes! I was asked if my one flower bed of poppies was a graveyard for the dead pets? I said, "That's where the lily of the valley is planted." Oddly enough this seemed normal?

But then again what is normal? Is my life normal? I sure as to hell hope so, cause I would be very afraid of what wasn't normal. I mean who controls what is normal? I've decided that my normal is a good normal. If someone had told during a peticularily (try sounding that word out) rough time of my life, I would live in a town that actually has signifcant history past 1969, in a great old house with tons of character (Our term for the previous idiots who owned the house's renovations) and being part of a community. That I would have a good solid marriage (Okay, once he is convinced of that it will be), a step-son who had made me a grandmother, a daughter who seeks out the depraved side of life and finds it interesting from the phsycological aspect, and a dog I am cooking for, (have I mentioned that one?) I would have sobbed for weeks and weeks.


Actually, I do have a great life. I like the fact that things feel right where they should be. My life is complete. Its like groovin with the now. What ever that means? My husband laughs at me because of the changes of I have made in my life. When he met me, I was more uptight, stressed, worried over things and generally feeling like I was going fifty different directions. Now, I try to do what I can to relax and enjoy things. I do what can and try not let what I can't eat at me and cause me to feel guilty. For years I carried the I should have done this or the why didn't I do that and beat myself up for things I did. I not only took the responsibility of what I did, I flogged myself. Every little thing that I did to make me wince when I looked back on it, a death by firing squad wasn't good enough.

I let go and man what trip. My husband didn't know what would be coming out of the kitchen. Some days I was chipper and nattering and other days is was the devil incarnate complete with the voice. "Supper!" was either known as a gourmet delight or a sacrifial victim to the demons of Hellspawn. Everynight my husband would eat supper, thank me, then run to the computer and create projects he needed to urgently do. Then I'd say something stupid like "I baked you cookies today." in my chipper manner. Oddly enough it seemed quite normal.

I bake organic cookies and make my own granola. How sad is that. Its all part of my trying to avoid processed foods. I also try to go organic and recently fair trade. I have been using stone ground flour in every measure possible. I use flax seed like its a food group all on its own. Even the freakin coffee is organic. Our friends are raising their eyebrows at us like we have gone bonkers. My husband says he'll worry when the beaded curtains go up. I search the internet and scour through my cook books looking for recipes with stone ground flour. I have four. I don't mean the bread. There are a gazillon recipes for stone ground flour bread. I have four for cookies, cakes, and muffins. But they're a really tasty four.

Yep, life is good.