for the boys

*sigh*

OK boys, I'm only gonna say this once.

The next time you are helping your friend with some backyard raking, and ... um ... "nature calls" ...

Don't assume that the old window you glanced at has no one behind it.

There might be a running pastor sitting at her desk directly in front of that old window.

And she might be a blogger.

Consider yourself warned.

in other news

I hate it when this happens, don't you?

Just ruins my day.

I almost had it all together

You know how, every now and then, a moment comes along when you say to yourself - "There. For this one little moment, I have it all together."

And you know it isn't going to last. You know it's not a true reflection of how life works. But for that one little moment - it's all under control.

I had the briefest of moments like that about a month ago. The moment hasn't repeated itself, but I gaze back fondly at it. My to-do list at work was somewhat realistic. The dustbunnies at my house had been beaten back to small villages under the couch. And I even had managed to ... wait for it ... prepare some tasty and nutritious food ahead of time. Meals were all wrapped up in the freezer, smug and self-satisfied, one of them even a previously untried recipe.

In fact, it was SUCH a lovely moment, that I thought I'd take one of those delightful little freezer meals and pass it along to someone else. Because when you have it all together, even for the briefest of moments, you feel like that moment should be shared.

*sigh*

So a month later, Spike and I pulled one of those perfect little meals out of the freezer. Because this week, we do NOT have it all together, and there is no sense that it will all COME back together in the next few weeks. So we heated up that little meal, and dished it out. Added some salt. Added some pepper. Added some hot sauce.

And finally looked at each other and said - "Does this taste ... BLAND?"

Yes. Yes it does. And the really lovely part of that is, that the little freezer meal I passed along was the same recipe. Bland and tasteless, although filling.

So much for my all-together moment. Back to crazy.

Halloween 2009

Another Halloween has come and gone.

I wish there were more kids. We had maybe 30 or so.

But still, it's all good.

Two vampires (a pretty little one, and a suspiciously adult-like one) arrived early with a friendly zombie. They shared some pizza with us before heading off for trick-or-treating.

Beetlejuice rode his bike up and down my street, singing and hollering greetings.

A unicorn carrying a chatty little dimpled cherub with a lisp may just win the most-adorable prize.

A pre-teen dressed as an old grandma made us laugh the most, due to certain, shall we say, "assets" which had ... um ... fallen.

There were also two ladybugs, two screams, a tiger, spiderman, batman, a butterfly, a hippie, and a grim reaper who couldn't remember what he was.

Wrapped in a quilt, I went across the street to where the action was, and had a great chat with my favourite neighbours, all shivering while we talked. Got invited to a party next month.

A sad moment, looking next door and seeing the darkened porch where Oma used to live. She passed away two months ago. I miss her.

Halloween.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

one hour

Forgive my skePticism.

As I am sure you know, the clocks change tonight. We all get an extra hour of sleeP.

Unless you live in Saskatchewan, I think. In which case, life goes on, and you're Probably not reading my blog anyway.

I love that extra hour of sleeP. I do. No, seriously, I really do.

I love the delight of the evening before - "It seems like it's 10 PM, but it's only 9! Look how much evening is left!"

I love that this year, that delight is combined with the delight of kostumed kidlets on my brand new Porch for Halloween.

But every year, when the time changes in spring and fall, the newscasts are full of the same cautionary soundbites. APParently, that one hour of extra (or less) sleeP deePly imPacts many of us, in that we forget how to drive, and car accidents Prevail.

But I ask you - don't most of us live in a PerPetual state of constant stress and mild sleeP-dePrivation, not to mention unhealthy eating Patterns? Don't we all regularly find ourselves short on time, with suddenly changing Plans and disruPtions in our schedule? Don't we all, for the most Part, coPe in some way?

And by coPe, I mean smile and function until you have a moment to yourself, at which time you eat sweet or salty comfort food ... or Play video games ... or gaze sadly at your Leafs merch ... or read someone's blog ...

I want to know. Who among you has so Perfected your life's routines and schedules, that one hour - ONE HOUR - turns you into an incaPable, wildly-swerving, accident-causing driver?

If you are this Person, you may confess below. You can use the anonymous oPtion. I just want to hear from you. I won't judge you. I want to understand.

If, on the other hand, you are taking this brief moment to coPe with your crazy life, by reading this Post while eating a giant chocolate bar for breakfast ... you may confess that too. You're in good comPany.

the emperor's new hairspray

I'm trying out a new hairspray.

They didn't have my regular (read: cheap) kind, so I had to find another. I found one that was not only a decent price, but also "flexible hold". This is important to me.

In the 80's, I needed spray-on concrete, for the ever-enlarging, gravity-defying, teased-to-distraction hairstyles. But in today's chic world, we scoff at such silliness. Today, we cheer for natural looks - you know, absolutely "naturally" straight, with the slightest of perfectly-placed "natural" flips, and of course, in a variety of "natural" colours. (Plus my hairdresser and I engage in high-level negotiations regarding the length of hair at the front. She wants me to look gorgeous. I want to see out of both eyes.)

But I digress. No more spray-on concrete for me. It's all "natural," baby, and that means - "flexible hold" hairspray. Which oddly, is not that easy to find.

So I found a new one. It's SO flexible, the label said, that it sprays on with a dry mist, leaving you with none of the stickiness or stiffness that characterizes other hairsprays. Just perfect, natural, flexible hold - no side effects.

I've been using it for a couple of weeks now. But here's the thing. Imagine it with me. Your hair is perfect, the best it is going to be all day. You stand in front of the mirror, and carefully reach for the hairspray, without allowing a single strand to move from its place. You hold up the bottle, and spray. But it goes on dry. Not a hint of moisture. And it's flexible. Not a hint of stiffness. In fact, the only evidence that you've sprayed anything at all, is the smell wafting up your nose (competing with the smell of your shampoo, deoderant, perfume and mouthwash - we're smell-a-holics, you know).

Are you with me? And here's the question: How do you know it's there? What if the makers of this product have SO THOROUGHLY SCAMMED me, that I'm actually spraying scented air around my head, and it's doing FAT NOTHING, and I'm PAYING for it???

What if ... *gasp* ... the emperor has no clothes??!!!

better to hire a man

I have recently discovered a new blog, "Letters of Note," which posts ... well ... old letters that are worth reading again.

The letters are of a wide variety, sometimes crude, sometimes thought-provoking, but mostly funny, now that they are removed from their original context.

And I just MUST direct you to this one.

Because it's important. (No it isn't. It's outrageous and deserving of derisive laughter, is what it is.)

After all, "It is extremely doubtful if a woman could, year after year, under a variety of conditions, stand the fairly severe strains and stresses, mentally and physically, which are part of the life of a Trade Commissioner."

technologized romance

Spike answered the phone. "Thanks for the flowers, honey. They're beautiful."

Except I didn't get any flowers. And Spike swears he didn't send flowers to anyone else who calls him honey. (It might have been momentarily understandable if he had, since I used a day and a half of my vacation to go to a conference this week. He puts up with a lot of nonsense, sometimes.)

So I erupted in a suspicious, jealous rage and began hurling his clothes out the window, demanding to know who would leave a message like that for him.

In return, Spike pointed out that the "honey" was unspecified, and the only conclusion he could come to was that I, not he, had sent flowers to someone outside of our happy twosome. There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

No there wasn't.

Nor was there any hurling of clothes.

The robotic voice verbalizing the text message that had been sent to the wrong number could never inspire such passion.

But the romantically-driven technological error did make us laugh. One can only hope that although the text message went to the wrong person, the flowers (in all likelihood ordered through an automated online robot) went to the right one.