Holy Mackerel

For your viewing pleasure, here are a few more photos from my recent voyage to Switzerland and Venice. I'm busy gulping coffee in an effort to wake up enough to RE-PACK my bags since I'm leaving for New Yawk City Thursday morning. But first, I have to follow Gryphon around the house as he drops shit nuggets. The poor animal has such a sensitive digestive system, any stress (or food he's not used to) sends his body into the throes of eruptive disorder, which creates further disorder for everyone around him. New York, here I come! Swan in Lake Geneva, ignoring me. Typical. Another boring shot of Old Geneva, with Mont Blanc in the background. I wanted to climb that mountain, but it was not to be. I couldn't find my cleats. And I have no idea what soccer shoes have to do with mountain climbing. Just accept it as it is, and move along. Busy waterway in Venice, with a lone gondolier in the middle, trying not to crash into parked boats as he maneuvers both his gondola ...

Today I was going to write about the stupid squirrel in our neighbourhood, but I'm agitated and annoyed, so I'd rather just bore you with complaints and whining about how I feel useless and worthless and how I have so much stuff to do before the end of this month that I think I might die from the stress of it all. But, as my friend Slut would say, I just need to relax. Remain positive. Breathe. But honestly, how do you breathe and relax when you have an anxiety disorder to begin with, coupled with having to plan for three trips in the next four weeks, clean the house, finish up more Grade 11 Biology stupidity, and decide whether to enter the paramedic or the nursing program? I've also been having all these weird dreams that include visions of my deceased parents mixed with strange houses, and very creepy and undesirable themes. Oh, and I have to get my son's health card renewed so that he can actually have health care (yes, actually, I AM a good mother, why do you ...

I just discovered something about Mr. Handsome that I did not know, which is huge (and possibly dangerous), because we've been together now 23 years, and I was pretty sure I knew everything about him, including the location of that strangely-shaped mole just under ... oh, never mind. I found out that speaking a foreign language in his presence really turns him on. As does me wearing granny glasses. Can't imagine what would happen if I wore my granny reading glasses AND talked to him in Swahili while holding a whip and handcuffs. I will wait while you imagine this scenario. Let me demonstrate: And now, replete with granny glasses and Swahili speech: Yeah. I know. All this to say that we went to the local bookstore the other day to peruse the travel section, because it's been decided that Mr. Handsome is going to Switzerland this month to give a presentation at some United Nations blahblahblah, and I am apparently accompanying him so that he makes it there and back in...

I've been thinking a lot over the past week or so about this potential trip to Switzerland with Mr. Handsome . And when I say thinking about it, I mean dreading it. But not in a bad way. Let me explain. Well, first of all, apparently now we don't know for certain that Mr. Handsome is going any longer. It's called government budget cutbacks, yo. He said he should know by the end of the week. Stupid government people. But if he gets the go ahead, I then have to figure out what to do. Because although I know I've said before that I've never been to Switzerland and would love to go to the land of the hosen, good beer and dark chocolate, I also now know about the Al Qaeda. Call me crazy. Why not? Most people do. Thing is, we've already seen them in action just last weekend with the pizza delivery WITHOUT THE CHEESY BREAD , so god only knows what else they could do. They're obviously VERY serious and mean business. It's spooking me out, guys, and I think I...

So it looks like Mr. Handsome is going to Geneva. As in, that place in Switzerland. And I'm not. So I've been wracking my brains trying to think of a way to make it necessary for me to go along with him, besides the fact that he is lost without me. Lost, I say. Not that he would even remotely realize this perpetual state of lostness because, guys, THAT's just how LOST he is! Mr. Handsome is heading over there to present some nonsense to the United Nations blahblahblah. And what did YOU do today, Mary? Oh, I changed my underwear, picked three toes and called the cops on some guy who thought he could just park in front of our house and use his cell phone, as if I wouldn't know he was actually a spy, or a ninja. Probably both. I begged and pleaded with Mr. Handsome, but alas, he said there was "NO WAY, NO HOW" that I could accompany him because a plane ticket would cost us our firstborn, to which I said, "Where do I sign?". So, as a form of revolt, I...