Holy Mackerel

Today's post is chock full of sugar and spice and all things nice. Not. Except for, maybe, the part about Mr. Handsome having spent many long hours preparing a big and really important workshop he is holding at the same moment as you read this sentence, and about how wonderful it is that Mr. Handsome is all happy and joyful that his workshop planning has all come together quite well, and he's not even all that nervous about presenting. Because Mr. Handsome works very very hard, and is a perfectionist, and it sure is damn nice if once in a blue moon everything comes together solidly for him and works out all tickety boo like that. That, and the fact that Mr. Handsome gave yours truly the go-ahead to buy a new dishwasher without any worries about what Mr. Handsome might want or think about said chosen dishwasher. Let me just tell you that this just does not happen. Oh, and the fact that my interview on Monday went quite well, thank you to everyone who sent me good wishes and vib...

Quite a weird and wacky last few days, I must say. And what's weirder is actually starting a sentence with that. Maybe not. I spent the weekend getting things together for my job interview this morning. Had to put together some references (now, that's a job in itself, actually finding people who would say nice things about me!), polish up my knowledge of all things library, and last, but not least, find my damn job interview clothes. And all this in the midst of what seems to be a stomach bug that's been creating some havoc with my insides (as if they need any help in that respect). It's tough being me. I ended up in bed for most of Saturday with gut cramps that would down Rocky Balboa for the count and a headache that just would not leave me alone. Needless to say, I didn't get any job interview preparations done that day, or much of anything else, including speaking more than three words to my family, unless you count "Uhhhh," "Ohhhh," and ...

So, it's my blogoversary today! Yes, one year ago today, I was finally convinced by my best friend Slut to start a blog. I'm still trying to figure out what to write... Me celebrating. Notice the large cheeks, not unlike those of a very full chipmunk. So, I thought, all in the name of celebrating, I would have the plumber over to do some repairs, because nothing says "happy" and "woo hoo!" as much as a working bathroom sink and dishwasher. It almost makes me giddy enough to do a striptease for Mr. Handsome just thinking about it. Almost, but not quite. I might, however, install a dance pole in our bedroom while he's at work. Yes, my happiness is entirely dependent upon functioning pipes and running water. Such is my life. In other celebratory news, we were told on Wednesday that Dee does not need more surgery in November. This is not cancer-related, but surgery is surgery, and Dee already went through this back in February, and he was not looking forwar...

You know it's fall when ... ... Dee is out raking leaves (because it's "fun", not because we asked him to, because remember? we don't care how our lawn looks) ... ... and he can't quite decide how to dress, because fall here in Ottawa is often a jumble of every type of weather system in the book, and then some. Thank god I never put the winter coats away ... But, more importantly, thank god he's at least colour co-ordinated.

This morning, I lay in the comfort of my Kingsdown king-sized bed, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the morning. And then, suddenly, I was violently ripped out of my dreamlike state by Mr. Handsome shining a very bright flashlight on my face and shouting, "HEY YOU!" For a moment, I thought I had somehow landed in jail and was being woken for my court date. What. The. Hell? I guess it was Mr. Handsome's loving way of letting me know I needed to get up and help with the crisis at hand. I don't know about you, but a nicer and gentler, "Hey sweetheart, I need you to get up," would have worked a helluva lot better in my mood department. Are all men like this, or did I just luck out? Anyway, apparently Dee had lost his glasses AGAIN, and was all in a kerfuffle trying to find them, and Mr. Handsome had been helping him, but Mr. Handsome is not known for his patience, and he also had to get his butt out the door and to work, so that's a roundabout way of...

I can no longer say with certainty that summer is my favourite season. As I get older, I am starting to notice the beauty in all, regardless of how cold or rainy it is. Because even raindrops are amazingly beautiful. One of the last berries the birds have apparently missed in their usually fruitful ventures through our front bushes. The Spirea is waning, and even that has its very own sort of beauty about it. This smoke tree is almost Christmas-like in its appearance after a recent rainfall. Have a great weekend, everyone!

One of my least favourite ways to wake up in the morning is to the sound of high-pitched, screeching tires, with a touch of wailing as if the person (or thing) is in extreme pain. Unfortunately, I wake up to this noise more than only once in a while in this household. The cause of this noise, you ask? My children, of course! What else? Em and Dee often get up on school days before I manage to fumble my way out from between my warm blankets and to the bathroom to put in my contact lenses so that I don't stumble down 20 stairs and break my nose. They don't really need me any longer to come down and make their breakfast, make sure they're dressed, etc. They're pretty much self-sufficient, but I still like to make an appearance to show them I care, to make sure they eat something and brush their teeth, and, on some days, to ensure that they don't kill each other. Such was the situation on Wednesday when I awoke to the screeching banshee sound and knew that either someo...

I am happy to announce that our Thanksgiving was a success. Yes, including the entirely homemade apple pie that Em and I made FROM SCRATCH, crust and all. I KNOW! I'm still reeling from the thought of it. My hands working hard at making the apple pie crust. Notice the flour that happened to end up everywhere, including halfway up my arms and on my sleeves. Despite our inexperience, the crust turned out perfectly. No pastry cutter tool needed for these experts. Look at that pile of apples. That's what I'm talkin' about! Mr. Handsome's and Dee's extraordinary pumpkin pie. To.Die.For. Excuse me while I run to the fridge for some leftovers. Be right back. The long weekend went by way too fast, as it always seems to. Today, Mr. Handsome is back at work, the kids at school, and me? I'm still here, fumbling along, looking for work, trying to figure things out. Feeling rather out of sorts, withdrawn from life, forcing myself to take nibbles of whatever is put in fr...

We're gearing up for Thanksgiving here in the cold North, which is also called Canada, eh. Our Thanksgiving happens in October, unlike the Thanksgiving in the States, which happens right before Christmas, which doesn't make much sense, if you ask me (which you didn't, I realize), because then it means you overdose on turkey and the tryptophan, and end up splayed on momma's couch for a month, tongue lolling, drool pooling around your armpit. Nice image. We're celebrating this Thanksgiving on Sunday, although it actually occurs on Monday, because having it on Sunday gives us Monday to recuperate from -- you guessed it -- the turkey dinner. We're going to have a big turkey, stuffing, roast potatoes, roast carrots, roast onions, and probably some brussels sprouts, parsnip or rutabaga (although everyone around here erroneously calls it turnip, which really confused me for years and years until I grew a brain), and homemade dessert. Yes, folks, that's right. Em an...

Mr. Handsome's been working his tail off lately, which I now understand is why his buttocks are so firm. Anyfirmandtinybuttocks, he decided to take a day off yesterday, which was nice because it meant actually seeing him for a change instead of swearing under my breath as I can only think of him while I pack Dee off for yet another hockey game. Yeah, being Canadian is JUST SO WONDERFUL. Because, if you haven't noticed yet, I am now in charge of everything under the sun that has anything at all to do with our household and family because I am not currently working full-time, which apparently also means that I have all the time, energy and inclination in the world to take Dee to a bazillion gagillion hockey practices a week, take Em to her waterpolo games, take them to all their various and sundry doctor appointments, and why am I complaining because really? It could be much worse. So, I'll just shut up now and show you lots of pretty pictures of the lovely walk Mr. Handsome...

Trying to find work is a job in itself. I know, I know. I didn't come up with that saying. It's not in the least bit original, unique, or "smart". What it is, however, is very appropriate for my present condition -- that is, in the process of trying to find a job. I went for yet another test on the weekend, this one for a part-time job with the city as a library page. What's that, you're asking? Well, heck, I'll tell you! Another word for 'library page' is 'gopher'. Which is to say, someone who does anything and everything she is asked to do for nominal payment. Yeah, that would be me. Anyway, it's a job, right? And that's what I need. So to the test I went, with photo ID and pens in hand. I had no idea what to expect, only knowing the test was an hour long, was being held in an arena, and that I wasn't psyched. After showing the big bossy people my identification and finding a spot at one of the long tables, I watched as perso...

Let me just start out by saying I love my husband very much. There, got that out of the way. Now on to the important stuff: Nacho Figueras. No, it's not an appetizer. Wait a minute! Yes, it is! Here, let me show you. OH MY GOD. Oh.My.God. Save me from myself. Excuse me while I pull my tongue back into my mouth and wipe the drool off my chest. Order me a large plateful of that, please. I saw this guy on Oprah the other day, and I have to say he has got to be one of the most handsome men alive in this century. Nay, this millenium. Just look at him, will you? I know even straight men will probably have a hard time not getting a bonk on when they take a look at this fine specimen of mankind. Not only is he amazingly handsome, but Nacho is also a polo player. That's right. I said, a polo player, as in, he rides a horse and deftly hits balls with a mallet, all the while looking stunning as the sweat drips off his forehead, his hair curls "just so" around his ears, and ......