Holy Mackerel

So, I got another call from Adonis yesterday, telling me his office has blocked my blog so that he can no longer read it while he sits at his desk pretending to work. I feel sorry for you, Adonis. Really, I do. And then I felt kind of proud that they felt it necessary to block my blog. I should probably get an award for that because, in my opinion, this is a HUGE success! Who doesn't want to be blocked by the federal government?! And then Adonis told me I should email him my posts, or type them out in Microsoft Word and email them to him so that he can read them at work instead of doing his job.  I told him I didn't have time for that, and Adonis laughed at me because he knew I had tons of time. But alas, I no longer have the time to even scratch my left buttock crease because, guys, I start my library job today, and I am still doing my biology course, which is a hell of a lot harder than my biology course last year, which is kind of making me freak out a little bit becau...

Still no reply from Fiskars, guys. I'm getting really angry now. Pulling out the big guns, as they say. Methinks they aren't taking me seriously, which is just ridiculous. So, I'm in the midst of putting together another email to Nikki at Fiskars Headquarters, and this time, I'm not mincing words. In the meantime: * Waiting for my garden boy, and almost having a heart attack when I see a Harry's Hedges truck across the stress. * Still waiting for my garden boy, and getting kind of tired of it all really, which actually means I'm pretty much just a pathetic excuse for a person who has no life and would rather live in her wild and wily imagination than actually face reality, whatever that is. I also spent Saturday with Adonis and Wood Nymph, who, along with Dee, went to my parents' gravesite and planted flowers to make things look all pretty and presentable, because if we're about anything, we're all about image. I didn't take any pictur...

You'll all be very happy to know that there is no mention in today's post of my awesome neighbours! Can I hear a hooray for small miracles?! Amen. And you're welcome. Mr. Handsome went away for the weekend, leaving me and the kids alone.all.weekend.long. Yeah. Guess I could end the post right here. But I won't. Mr. Handsome gets invited to this "all men's" weekend every spring at his sister's husband's cottage up in the Muskokas , and of course, he goes. Very thoughtless of him, if you ask me. And gender biased. Anyway, it sounds extremely boring because I asked him what exactly all the guys do up there for three days, and he looked at me like I was the stupid one, and said, "Poker." So I said, "You play poker for three days straight?" and he said, "Yeah," as if it was a totally normal and not obscene and very boring thing to do. And then he added, as an afterthought, "Well, we intersperse it with some x-box,...

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...