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!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, October 26, 2009
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??!!!
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??!!!
Friday, October 23, 2009
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."
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."
Thursday, October 22, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Vince
Have you seen Vince? Of course you have.
He's one of the most obnoxious characters on TV, in a "can't look away from the horror" kind of way. His sales method is annoyingly aggressive, totally cheesy and a little bit frenetic. All the things I dislike in a salesperson.
I've been known to freeze salespeople in place with just a glance and a cool "no thank you, I'm fine". (Spike says I should be nicer. He's probably right. He goes over and chats with them while I happily browse on my own.)
No one actually admits to liking Vince. No one actually believes his threat of "limited time offer" - it's been going on for months now.
But he's growing on you, isn't he? Watch the commercial enough times, and you'll find yourself waiting for the lamest part. And then you're walking through the grocery store, absent-mindedly reciting the rhythmic "fettucine, linguine, martini, bikini". Next thing you know, you're grudgingly admiring Vince for his inexplicable passion and endurance. You think to yourself, "Ya gotta give the guy credit for ... something."
That's when the walls come down, and the genius is exposed. For Vince's commercial, over-edited and unsophisticated as it is, has been internalized. "Hmmm, it IS good that it opens up like that for easy cleaning ..." "Yes, I DO want more veggies on my pizza!" "My life IS going to be more exciting!"
Until one day, to your personal chagrin, you realize -
"I want a SlapChop for Christmas. With the Graty. Thank you."
(but let's keep that embarrassing secret just between you and me, k?)
He's one of the most obnoxious characters on TV, in a "can't look away from the horror" kind of way. His sales method is annoyingly aggressive, totally cheesy and a little bit frenetic. All the things I dislike in a salesperson.
I've been known to freeze salespeople in place with just a glance and a cool "no thank you, I'm fine". (Spike says I should be nicer. He's probably right. He goes over and chats with them while I happily browse on my own.)
No one actually admits to liking Vince. No one actually believes his threat of "limited time offer" - it's been going on for months now.
But he's growing on you, isn't he? Watch the commercial enough times, and you'll find yourself waiting for the lamest part. And then you're walking through the grocery store, absent-mindedly reciting the rhythmic "fettucine, linguine, martini, bikini". Next thing you know, you're grudgingly admiring Vince for his inexplicable passion and endurance. You think to yourself, "Ya gotta give the guy credit for ... something."
That's when the walls come down, and the genius is exposed. For Vince's commercial, over-edited and unsophisticated as it is, has been internalized. "Hmmm, it IS good that it opens up like that for easy cleaning ..." "Yes, I DO want more veggies on my pizza!" "My life IS going to be more exciting!"
Until one day, to your personal chagrin, you realize -
"I want a SlapChop for Christmas. With the Graty. Thank you."
(but let's keep that embarrassing secret just between you and me, k?)
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
sshhh... i iz makng "to do" planz
I am on vacation.
Thus, there are things that absolutely must be done.
Here is my list, just off the top of my head.
- Blog
- Make beef stew (for dinner)
- Make meatloaf (for freezing)
- Make carrot-basil soup (for freezing)
- Make turkey soup (with leftovers, for freezing, in case you didn't get that)
- Pay bills
- Fill out insurance paperwork (last task from the Summer of the Flooding Basement)
- Do a LOT of yardwork
- Write a small proposal
- Catch up on academic reading
- Clean out the fridge (which has a number of interesting science experiments in progress)
- Renew driver's licence (which almost certainly has expired, but I'm afraid to look)
- Admire new table and chairs that we scooped off kijiji on the weekend
Or...
I could take a nap.
Monday, October 12, 2009
what a wonderful world
It's Thanksgiving Monday - my family's day for turkey dinner, apple pie and (weather permitting) a turkey walk somewhere in the area. There may also be a Monopoly game in the offing.
With that in mind, I just thought I'd start this day off right. Enjoy a little Louis Armstrong - and Happy Thanksgiving to you!
With that in mind, I just thought I'd start this day off right. Enjoy a little Louis Armstrong - and Happy Thanksgiving to you!
Thursday, October 08, 2009
pure nerd!
You KNOW you will have a moment this weekend when you are bored, and you can't move much because you ate too much turkey and apple pie, and you need to get away from your family for a few moments.
(Not me. I don't need to get away from my family, ever. Nope.)
When That Moment Comes ...
I give you the Nerd? Geek? or Dork? test.
I got it from my Famous Author Cousin, who is a far superior human being to me in almost every way. I've decided I'm OK with that.
Do the test, OK? Then report back, either via the poll or the comments. I want to know who I'm hanging out with here. (Don't be paranoid. I can't trace you. I won't expose you to the world.)
Me? I'm a Nerd. And proud of it.
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd. The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendencies associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful. Congratulations!
74% nerd
26% geek
30% dork
(oh, i forgot to say, the test is on a dating site, so don't sign up at the end, unless you are looking for your soulmate!)
(Not me. I don't need to get away from my family, ever. Nope.)
When That Moment Comes ...
I give you the Nerd? Geek? or Dork? test.
I got it from my Famous Author Cousin, who is a far superior human being to me in almost every way. I've decided I'm OK with that.
Do the test, OK? Then report back, either via the poll or the comments. I want to know who I'm hanging out with here. (Don't be paranoid. I can't trace you. I won't expose you to the world.)
Me? I'm a Nerd. And proud of it.
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd. The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendencies associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful. Congratulations!
74% nerd
26% geek
30% dork
(oh, i forgot to say, the test is on a dating site, so don't sign up at the end, unless you are looking for your soulmate!)
Monday, October 05, 2009
no radio today
We all have our routines.
My morning routine is to make coffee, feed the cat (who believes he is starving to death at THAT EXACT MOMENT, despite the fact that his bowl is still half-full from the day before) and then ... if Spike has already left for work ... I turn on the computer to listen to the station I like, on-line.
Why don't I use a radio? Because my radio is 593 years old, and sounds like a tin can.
What's the station I like these days? Well, I can't show you because they hyped up a new line-up, new theme, new everything, starting today - and it doesn't work. Weblink is "broken".
*sigh*
I was feeling tentative about it anyway, because the morning guy I like is all about the outrage and the rants, and even when I don't agree with him, it makes me laugh. How can anyone be so opinionated that early in the morning?
The new morning guy used to be the afternoon guy, and in the afternoons he's all reasonable and intelligent and witty - which I'm not sure I can handle in the morning. I have to be smart all day long. I need an intelligence-optional show in the morning.
So here I am, on my day off, knowing I should be getting some things done. But my routine is broken.
I may still be in pj's at dinnertime.
My morning routine is to make coffee, feed the cat (who believes he is starving to death at THAT EXACT MOMENT, despite the fact that his bowl is still half-full from the day before) and then ... if Spike has already left for work ... I turn on the computer to listen to the station I like, on-line.
Why don't I use a radio? Because my radio is 593 years old, and sounds like a tin can.
What's the station I like these days? Well, I can't show you because they hyped up a new line-up, new theme, new everything, starting today - and it doesn't work. Weblink is "broken".
*sigh*
I was feeling tentative about it anyway, because the morning guy I like is all about the outrage and the rants, and even when I don't agree with him, it makes me laugh. How can anyone be so opinionated that early in the morning?
The new morning guy used to be the afternoon guy, and in the afternoons he's all reasonable and intelligent and witty - which I'm not sure I can handle in the morning. I have to be smart all day long. I need an intelligence-optional show in the morning.
So here I am, on my day off, knowing I should be getting some things done. But my routine is broken.
I may still be in pj's at dinnertime.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
hockey woes
No hockey for Hamilton.
Please don't get all indignant on me. I know there are hockey teams here. I've even been to a few Bulldogs games.
(Which puts me in a real pickle, by the way. Am I supposed to cheer for the Bulldogs, because they're in Hamilton? Or am I supposed to not cheer for the Bulldogs, because they're the farm team for the Habs-our-sworn-enemies?)
But there's no NHL team for Hamilton. No reason to stop cheering for the Leafs.
(Again, I know there are all kinds of reasons to stop cheering for the Leafs. But in this house, only geography will change that.)
Ah well. The B & B Conflict (Balsillie & Bettman) was an exciting diversion over the summer; far more exciting for me than the actual game of hockey. I just wanted my town to get a shot of excitement. I wanted my property value to increase a little bit.
And I wanted new hockey bling in the basement.
Please don't get all indignant on me. I know there are hockey teams here. I've even been to a few Bulldogs games.
(Which puts me in a real pickle, by the way. Am I supposed to cheer for the Bulldogs, because they're in Hamilton? Or am I supposed to not cheer for the Bulldogs, because they're the farm team for the Habs-our-sworn-enemies?)
But there's no NHL team for Hamilton. No reason to stop cheering for the Leafs.
(Again, I know there are all kinds of reasons to stop cheering for the Leafs. But in this house, only geography will change that.)
Ah well. The B & B Conflict (Balsillie & Bettman) was an exciting diversion over the summer; far more exciting for me than the actual game of hockey. I just wanted my town to get a shot of excitement. I wanted my property value to increase a little bit.
And I wanted new hockey bling in the basement.
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