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Showing posts from December, 2008

Thankful For Cheezies And All Things Good and Cheesy

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Happy New Year to all of you, my dear friends, family, readers, stalkers, perusers, and ne'er-do-wells! I would like to end this year on a positive note, and hence begin 2009 in the same fashion. I thought I could do this easily enough by telling you what I am truly thankful for, and my wishes for 2009. Some of them may seem cheesy, but they're real and honest, and I like Cheezies a lot, so do with them what you will. Just don't put down the Cheezies . Or the Cheetos . They are all that is true, honest, and good in this world, and closest to heaven. Thankful For... supersize bags of Cheetos supersize bags of Cheezies my family's health my friends' health my son's continuing health my husband and children my family's and friends' existence memories of my dad Cheetos PhotoShop CS4 Extended (we're going on our honeymoon soon!) the little peace on earth we actually have at any given time smiles and innocence of little children Starbucks coffee that my

Psychedelic Mushroom

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Dante

On a less cheery note than yesterday's post (sorry, everyone...can you tell I'm in the depths of a depression?), I was surfing my fave blogs, and came upon Dawn's blog, titled " Because I Said So" , a great site if you have the chance to check it out. Her latest post was about a little boy named Dante, aka Trooper. This little boy is fighting for his life, going through his lifelong battle with a cancer called Neuroblastoma (see here for the full story). He's losing the fight, which is something I cannot imagine going through as a parent, although we ourselves came close more than once with our son, and we know many other parents who have had to deal with losing their child in exactly this manner. Please take a look at Dante's story, and send him a little of your love.

The Joys of Christmas

I look forward to the Christmas season every year. And every year I am disappointed. It seems that I aim too high, focusing on all the good things that happen at this time of year, but what seems to happen most often is that all the negative aspects of family life come to the forefront this time of year, rearing their ugly heads and reminding us all of how complex the family is, how duplicitous it can be. I don't exactly know why I love Christmas so much, since it seems to be so full of stress. But I do. I seem to forget about the extremes in emotion through the season, the buried emotions coming to the forefront, the angry outbursts that always happen between siblings, or mother and daughter, the past coming back to haunt us all, whether we realize it or not. What I remember about Christmas and look forward to is the family gathering together, the warmth, the love for my husband and my kids, the laziness, the wood fires we have in the fireplace, the look on my children's faces

Watercolour Spring

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Christmas Lights

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I Want To Marry PhotoShop

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All I can say is Holy Crap! Do I ever love PhotoShop! Even more than I thought I ever could! I got it for Christmas from Mr. Handsome. What a guy, eh? He shouldn't have. He really shouldn't have, because now I have to choose between him and my new love, and PS is winning, I'm afraid. Sorry, Mr. Handsome. It was great while it lasted. I don't know how to use my new PhotoShop yet, but I still love it. I'm like a kid in a candy store, except I'm just sitting on the couch on my ever-growing ass playing with photos on my laptop, and oohing and aahhing when I push a button and cool things happen. Not only did Mr. Handsome get me PS, he got me the newest extended version, PhotoShop CS4 Extended, which apparently allows me to create a new world and control it with the click of a finger. I am omnipotent. Hear me roar. For instance, take a gander at the photo below. Isn't that the most amazing thing you've ever seen? And I did that. Not sure how, but I did. And I

Doggone It

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Ho. Ho. Ho. Are we having fun yet?

Merry Christmas! And Don't Shoot Your Mother!

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I want to wish each and every one of you the best Christmas ever, with lots of food, happiness, music, laughter and even more love. This photo does not do our lovely tree justice. My camera sucks, which is why I hope I win the one Ree Drummond is giving away at Confessions of a Pioneer Woman . I have a wonderful Canon, but it's not digital. So I end up using this other Canon Powershot DX-1 that my mother-in-law actually won and then so generously gave to me. I like it, but it really doesn't work so well a lot of the time. Do you feel sorry for me? On Christmas Eve, the empty space you see under the tree will be chock-full of prezzies, goodies, and wonderful packages of joy. Not that I appreciate the commercialism of our Christmases nowadays, but that doesn't mean I don't like the odd diamond bracelet, or digital camera, or new laptop, or the latest version of PhotoShop, or...ok, I'll stop. This is Gryphon, our standard poodle, trying to figure out what the Christ

Holiday Horror

The kids are home from school for the next two weeks. Two. Weeks. They should be outlawed, school holidays. And kids. When I complain about holidays and kids, one of my best friends reminds me, with a smirk on his face, "You know, children are self-inflicted." And he takes pride is reminding me of this because he has no children of his own. Milly and Dennis are great kids, don't get me wrong. I love them more than life itself. It's just that, sometimes, they are more than any mortal can handle. And this time, they have me at a weak moment. And they know it. I know they do. I can see them give each other "the look" before they start pushing every button on the Mommy keyboard, ending with the "Make Mommy Scream At The Top Of Her Lungs" button. Which, if pushed again, turns into "Make Mommy Tear Her Hair Out And Ask Herself What On Earth Made Her Want To Ever Procreate" button. I am their captive for the next two weeks, and they are going to

My Hair Is Emo & My Husband Is Blind

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So, I got my hair done Saturday. It was time. Beyond time. I was once again beginning to look like the Yeti. That's how I know it was time for a trim. I was wearing a perpetual haystack on top of my head. And plus, Christmas is coming (in case you didn't know). I know it's time for a haircut when my nerves are all a-jangled because my hair keeps going in my eyes, and is very unruly, and its fingers are digging into my face, my scalp, begging me to take it out of its misery. Cut me! Cut me! it pleads. My hair is emo. I got my hair highlighted with foils, and cut and blowdried. For those of you (read: mostly men) who don't know what foils entail, read on. Foils is basically just that: foil. Yes, Alcan foil cut into wide strips and then wrapped around chunks of your hair with some dye brushed on. I end up looking like a candidate for a 1960s exhibition freak show, or an airplane with a very wide wingspan. Foils is, in my opinion, a much better option than, say, the highlig

Yeah. Whatever.

Mr. Handsome, groping me around the waist: Oops, sorry. I didn't know your breast was that low. Me: It's not my breast. It's my stomach...

Secrets About Me

I hate being home alone at night. I wish I looked like Heidi Klum, Charlize Theron or Katherine Heigl. Honestly, any one would do. I want to be 24 years old again, but knowing what I know now, and being who I am now. Sometimes I hate myself. I feel like a failure a lot of the time. I wish I could swim well. I still want to be a "successful" author before I die. I was extremely insecure in my 20s. I've pretended to be sick in the past. I think I'm a pretty good person overall. I have hair growing on my face. Thanks, perimenopause. Oftentimes, I wish I could just be.

Meet Nanaimo

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This is Nanaimo, who also likes to be called Mo. She is the newest member of our family, coming to our home a little over a week ago as Furry's newest companion. Nanaimo has settled in quite nicely, after being quarantined for a week, just in case she was carrying scurvy or tuberculosis or something just as awful. She was not happy being by herself, and would hide under her hay pile, not eating or drinking. We were a bit concerned, so we were hand-feeding and offering her lots of drinks, to make sure she didn't die. We then decided we might as well introduce her to Furry, our five-year-old guinea pig, who's been alone since Cuddles' demise Nov. 30. We were a bit concerned, since Furry is a more assertive piggy, and has been around for five years, hence as far as she's concerned, she's the boss and ain't no one gonna tell her otherwise. We had read that guinea pigs are often very territorial and can be quite vicious, so we were a tad hesitant to leave the tw

Milking My Face For All Its Worth

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Once I hit my 40s, which was really only nanoseconds ago (honest!), I began to notice a definite change in my appearance. See here and here for examples, if you dare. What has really hit me hard, however, is the change in my skin, especially on my face. I never had wrinkles to speak of until the 40s era reared its ugly head. First, it was around the eyes. Very noticeable, very awful wrinkles that not only appeared overnight in the corners of my once-beautiful green eyes, but also bagged wrinkles that accumulated underneath my once-beautiful green eyes. These wrinkly bags are so noticeable and so large that I look part-elephant. No, they're not laugh lines, and no, I should not be proud of them as I am of my stretch marks. No. These are just plain old elephant-skin bags of wrinkled skin, hanging from tethers under my eyes, like a deflated hot air balloon that's begging to land. Soon after, the jowls began their downward dance. Now, most of my friends and family poo poo me whenev

I Want To Look Like Jennifer Aniston -- No, Really I Do

If I were turning 40 and looked like Jennifer Aniston, I'd be pretty damn proud of it too. Apparently, she's on the cover of January's GQ magazine, and she's naked, but for a striped tie, AND she's surrounded by almost-naked men. If I were lesbian, I would be buying up every GQ there is. I still may. Become lesbian, that is, and then buy up all the GQ s. Sorry, Mr. Handsome. It was great while it lasted. Apparently the article is about Aniston turning 40 and being hotter than she's ever been. And I can't say I disagree. She has a certain je ne sais quoi about her now that she didn't have 10 or 15 years ago. It's not just about how amazing her body is. I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure some PhotoShop and airbrushing is involved. What "normal" woman can look like that without daily work-outs that last hours and involve five different personal trainers and assistants? What has changed, and what's more important, I think, is

Toxic Waste

Milly is a careful, cautious and conservative child, always on the watch for anything out of the ordinary. She's always questioning, searching, wondering, skeptical, investigative. Have I given you enough adjectives to get the drift? Good. I had no more to give. Honestly. Milly has been like this almost from Day One. Of course, when she was first born, all we knew about her was that she had an awesome scowl, could poop out really weird black stuff (yeah, I know, it's meconium , but I DIDN'T know that back THEN ), she had these amazing, baggy knees, and she looked just like Yoda. Soon enough, however, we realized who we were dealing with. This bald child with a black soft silk tuft on top of her head was inquisitive, always wanting to know more. By the age of 2 months, she was already listening intently while Mr. Handsome read to her from his macro-economics text (he was in the first year of his lifelong PhD program). If she could speak at that age, I just know she would h

The Colour of the Grinch

A family was watching "How The Grinch Stole Christmas", the original cartoon version we all know and love: Girl 1: What colour is the Grinch, Daddy? Dad: Well, he looks green. Girl 2: He's not green, Daddy! Girl 1: Yeah, he's not green, Daddy! Dad: Sure he is. What colour would you say he is if he isn't green? He's green. He's always been green. Girls 1 & 2: He's chartreuse, Daddy! Dad, to his wife: What's chartreuse?

One Person

Unfortunately, I had an experience yesterday that reminded me of how angry and impatient people in our society have become, how quickly they are to lash out at strangers, and for no good reason, often for no reason at all. An older man yesterday decided it was my day to get shit on. I happened to drive into a laneway so that I could drop off something. This man had just pulled into this same laneway ahead of me, and then had pulled back out and parked on the street. I got out of my car, and this man, who looked like a cross between Eddie Albert (god rest his acreage) and, strangely enough, Mr. Ed. This man had pure white hair like Santa Claus, and a face as red as Satan. And what came out of his mouth was stuff I hope my son never hears again. There were also tiny balls of saliva that flew out of his open, angry maw as he shouted at me, and steam I swear coming out of his sizeable, flap-worthy ears. Anyway, this older man, who should have definitely known better, was screaming at me be

Living in Ottawa

You know you're in Ottawa in the winter when you place your snow brush on the trunk of the car, and then forget about it, and it freezes to your car, and you end up driving all over the city with it, and then you find it at the end of the day in the grocery store parking lot, still sitting on the trunk of your car. Is it spring yet?

Life In The Fast Lane Surely Make You Lose Your Mind (Thank You, Eagles)

This life we live is lived too quickly. I'm sure there are more people out there than just me who believe this. Nowadays, we have the many conveniences at our fingertips that we could only imagine 30 years ago. And imagine we did. We tried to imagine what life would be like with computers, laptops, remote phones, the Internet, cable television. I found it very hard to imagine, almost impossible since it was so far from our reality at the time. How wonderful it would be to be able to actually have a phone in your pocket when you're at the mall, for example, and you see something that perhaps your dearest husband would love, so you think you may call him and just see if you're right. Or imagine how perfectly fabulous it would be to have a portable computer that DOESN'T need a WIRE to connect to the Internet. Imagine going to Starbucks (which didn't exist 30 years ago, I know) and bringing your laptop and being able to surf the Internet while you relax in a cozy wing c

Ahhhhh, Akhassa

I recently had the opportunity to review a wonderful product for my oh-so-ignored and worn feet, and I will be forever indebted to Akhassa and Mom Fuse for this! Akhassa is a company that creates amazingly delicious (I swear you'll want to eat them for dessert) spa-quality products for use in the privacy of your home. They have a variety of products devoted to transforming your every moment into a personal spa experience. Only natural ingredients are used, with pure essential oils and extracts distilled from exotic Asian plants, flowers, fruits and herbs, inspiring their holistic philosophy. There are no animal-based ingredients, artificial dyes or fragrances in any of their products, and all are cruelty-free. There are three distinct lines in the Akhassa home spa collection, each featuring a unique balance of aromas and natural ingredients. The "Nurture" line was created to fortify the body and mind. Products include Ylang Ylang Body Lotion, Jasmine Body Scrub, and Ylan

Thawing The Shoulder

Having a frozen shoulder doesn't only hurt a ton, and isn't only HUGELY inconvenient, it SUCKS BIG TIME. So, last week, I went into the hospital for a procedure they call 'capsular distention'. It's a fancy way of saying they fill your shoulder joint with lots and lots of fluid under pressure with very large needles while you writhe in absolute pain and continue trying to smile and not kick the doctor in the gonads (which, of course, means he was a he, and not a she, in which case the kick would probably result in contact with the lower vaginal area). I had a frozen shoulder in my right shoulder over 4 years ago. They don't know why these shoulders 'freeze', but it happens with relative frequency, and apparently can be a real problem with diabetics. Of course, I'm not a diabetic. Cortisone shots and physiotherapy helped with it that first time. Then, at the beginning of this year, I noticed similar pain in my left shoulder, but ignored it as I always