As I sit here watching a rat lick the opening to the lid of my Starbucks mocha latte cup I ponder my purpose in life. Had I not been finished my latte, my sole short-term lifes ambition would be assuring the untimely demise of the household vermin. Luckily for him I was done.

Being a stay at home mom has it's rewards. Not as many as I used to have mind you, in my previous careers. In Nursing, I got to help people and their families though some difficult times. I was always up to date on the latest medical advancements and medications. Sometimes I was treated with respect, like a professional in my field. Sometimes I was treated like a maid, servant, hostess, hooker. It was rewarding sometimes, stressful always. The perks were that firstly, I got paid, and secondly, I got to keep all of the vomit, feces, and urine I could take home in my shoes and clothing.

As a Library Tech. for a high tech firm the perks included unlimited access to the stationary supply cupboard, first dibs on all Bellcore and Industry standards, and sticky buns from the company cafeteria. Oh wait, I had to pay for the sticky buns. But, I did get paid.

As a mom. Hmmm....well, I'm a kept woman. No salary, no benefits....well, Stephen Harper pays me $100 a month. I'm thankful for that. I didn't get anything from the Liberals! I get to spend that $100 sitting at a cafe with Adventurer some mornings pretending to be artistic, and with White Mocha some afternoons being a mom and shaping the future generation of coffee addicts. I enjoy that.

Sometimes I feel guilty for enjoying life in a way that Mr. P. doesn't. He's the only one drawing a salary, and that bothers me. I was always taught I need to work to save for retirement. Our governement has for years made it clear that a mom at home is bad for her children. She is lazy and they will all be stupid. Luckily that is not the philosophy of the current leaders.

I can't help but feel bad none the same for Mr. P. The poor man is right now away in Vancouver (Vicki Stripesless) working his fingers to the bone to bring home enough money so I can enjoy a comfortable lifestyle. He hates travelling. I'm sure that he also hates the upgrade to the executive suite and gacuzzi in his room. The meals out in restraurants of his choice are such a drag. The five hour plane ride....alone, without a single disruption or question from the peanut gallery. Going to the bathroom alone, no one to jimmie the bathroom lock while you're in the shower, to ask you to get them a drink of milk right that very second. How can he stand it? Oh well. At least he gets paid! If not, our rats would be living in the garbage instead of dining on Starbucks coffee. I suppose we would be too!

Hide and Go Seek.....By-Law Office Style

I wasn't impressed. The hands on the clock were inching forward closer to piano class time. I however, was not. I could be found standing fully dressed for my outing in my new winter coat and gloves with music in hand. This was how Mr. P and 2 of 4 found me as I charged down the laneway to the awaiting vehicle. It had barely been shut down. Only 20 minutes left. I would be late because they were late first.

Upon arriving at my destination, I finally found parking after a brief search, right in front of the building I would go and butcher a piano at. I wasn't the only car parked here. There were many others who had also lucked out. I was greatful as it was an exceedingly chilly night with a windchill strong enough to freeze the skin and to make ones nipples stand up in a full salute. Across the street large machinery of varying types plowed and removed to snow. I did a thorough inspection of the snowbanks on my side of the street to assure myself that it was safe to park here. There were no warnings of impending snow removal. I was safe.

Shoot!!!!!!!! In my rush to get to my lesson I had left the house without my purse. No money, no id in case I got murdered, no cell phone to call 911 and report my murder. An uneasy feeling crept over me, further stimulating my nipples. I had to go home after class. No coffee, No Adventurer, No CU 4.....no fun! I couldn't go without my purse. After witnessing the mugging 2 weeks ago, I refuse to be out past 9pm without at least my phone.

My evening already ruined, I proceed to class grumbling all the way. I managed to pass onto a new piece of music, so apparently disappointment and annoyance work for me as a stimulus to adequate piano playing. I pack up and leave.

As I walk out the door, I notice something is not right! The snowbanks, formally up against the sidewalk on my side of the street, are now sitting out in the middle of the busy roadway. My car is nowhere to be seen. Ahhhh SH*&T! The game is afoot....and I'm not dressed for the weather!

Our fine city considers it an appropriate action to remove cars and deposit them wherever their little hearts desire if they are in the path of a plow. Before doing this though, they are generally post notice in the snowbanks, forewarning drivers to consider parking elsewhere. This was not done. I was now fuming mad. I return to the store.

"You're right! They didn't have signs posted in front!" Mr. G. a very talented guitar instructor informs me. (I especially like him because he agreed with me!)

"They generally park them around the corner or in a lot nearby when they remove them. That's what they did with Mr. L's last time." he correctly informed me. I know he was correct because I went marching up to a group of plow operators standing around chewing the fat and demanded to know the whereabouts of my car!

After much looking and much walking I was starting to think that this was some kind of bad joke. The heavy equipment operators must have hidden mine and been having a giggle at my expense watching me stomp up and down the street, nipples high and goose bumps out. Hatless, scarfless, long underwearless, talking to myself like some madwoman who just let herself loose from some institution.

I turn down yet another street and walk for some distance when I see it! Like a beautiful 17 year old rusting mirage in a frosty white desert. Beasty! Oh Beasty.....I've been looking all over for you! What have they done to you!

There sitting, not next to the curb, but a third of the way into the street was my car. Not just around the blog, but a good ways around the block all the way down to kingdom come.

Relief flooded over me. I wasn't going to get into trouble for loosing the car from Mr. P. I wasn't going to have to drag my family out into the cold night in our van, kids and all, to drive around and find my missing ride. Some of the anger started to melt away....well, not too much actually. When I looked up and saw the little love note the tow truck driver left me. A ticket.

Now luckily for them there wasn't any monetary value assigned to the ticket. BUT! the fact that they had the gall to post a ticked saying I had broken a by-law by parking where they were removing snow, as indicated by the SIGNS, I had gotten my car moved.

Let's just say that all driving regulations on the way home where optional where there was no chance of injuring anybody.

This means war.

Happy Valentine's Day

Still here, not dead yet. But... the day is young.



Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If Mom should die before I wake
I sure hope Nana bakes a cake

Perpetual Chocoholic

Dod: February 9, 2007

Yes, apparently I am one of those people who has had a near death experience.

I went to school to pick of 4 of 4 after her morning junior kindergarden class. Her teacher approached me with a sly kind of smile which was soon replaced by a bubbling giggle that just wouldn't stop.

Mrs. Giggles: "4 of 4 told one of her classmates and then the rest of us that you had died and gone to heaven. She insisted she was ok and well taken care of because Nana and Poppa came to take care of her while you were dead."

Perp: "Huh?"

Mrs. Giggles: "Is everything ok? I mean, I can see your not dead (she's a very bright teacher as you can tell!), but were you sick recently, in the hospital....have PMS or....something? (ok, she didn't ask about the PMS, but she might as well have!)

Perp: "Not even a hangnail."

Mrs. Giggles: "oh well, maybe it was a dream."

Perp: "My brother (when he was about 4 of 4's age) had on more than one occasion dreamt my Grandmother was in the hospital and would ask my parents why. They would assure him she was fine and at home in her appartment. At least she would be until the next day when she inevitably always ended up in the hospital. Maybe 4 has the gift! Maybe I'll be dead tomorrow!!!!!!!"

Mrs. Giggles: "Oh no, I'm sure you'll be fine."

Perp: I give her a stoney look and the silent treatment. [why does she think that my daughter killing me off in her dreams is so funny!!!?]

Mrs. Giggles: "She did also say that everything was ok now though, you came back from heaven."

Perp: "yah, what a relief."

I then proceeded to the office to sign myself out and repeated the conversation almost verbatim with the school secretary. Only she started off with,

"Oh, and here I thought you were dead.....hahahahahah!"

So in case there is no tomorrow, Goodbye for now. See you all on the flip side. God willing!

This picture describes how I feel today. Confused.

I've never been one of those people who automatically attracts a crowd of admirers. You know the type. They just have to enter the room and everyone gravitates towards them. It's like some magnetic invisible force. They don't have to even be physically attractive....or have large breasts or anything. They just have that certain something. That certain something that I lack.

When I'm somewhere out in public and I reeeeallly want to be alone, I then become that person. Unfortunately, I don't attract the normal human beings. I get the wacko ones. Never fails.

Last night I stood in front of a group of approx. 30 kids. The children's pastor was away, and being the co-ordinator of the program I was the one expected to do the closing routine. I became that first person in the extreme. Not only did these kids not gravitate towards me, but they down right ignored me! As I looked across the sea of faces, including group leaders and assistants, I could see nobody had the slightest interest at all in what I was or wasn't doing and saying at the front. This called for drastic action. I screamed. Silence gradually fell across the room in a wave.

"You need to listen to me NOW! I am trying to get started so we can all get out of hear on time." I yelled as loudly as I could. Although I could still hear mumbles, primarily from the kindergardeners, but generally I had caught their attention.

"Alright now. Pastor S. is away tonight. I need somebody about this tall to come up and take her place." I indicated about someone upto my shoulders height. The Pastor is a wee bit on the short side. One of the boys volunteered. In fact it was one of the more rambunctious gentlemen.

Tonight this is Pastor S. And now Pastor S. will lead us in our song and Bible verse. I stepped aside. (heeheehee!) The guys 11 year old face dropped and registered both panic and confusion. The room was quiet.

"Well....we're waiting....SING!" I was barely able to keep my face straight. This was way too much fun.

He sang, he lead the verse. I allowed a couple of the other children to come up to the front so the poor guy wasn't totally alone. I had asked one of the leaders to finish with a prayer. The end to a successful evening.

I suppose that I learned that when you are ignored, the best way to get noticed is to become a bit silly.....a wacko. This doesn't mean that I want to listen to every nut case that comes my way when I'm out in public, but maybe the odd one. You know, just to make them feel heard.

I was remined of this little fellows request when visiting Rainy Pete's blog. I saw Shane on t.v. and thought that it would be nice to share this address as Pete did. I know the school my house monsters attend are having the children make cards for Shane. Maybe you would like to as well.


Hi, my name is Shane I am 7 years old. I am diagnosed with leukemia.

My Birthday wish this year (May 30th) would be to receive the largest amount of cards as possible and from all places. If you can help me, it would be appreciated.PLEASE, contact your friends…THANK YOU !

Shane Bernier
P.O. Box 484
Lancaster
ON
Canada
K0C 1N0

JAILED?

Ok. I realize the irony in this whole thing. After complaining that I felt that I was "jailed" in at home, I had a lovely evening out with a good friend and a week old boy with that new baby smell. Heaven! (and no I'm not talking about the poopy diaper smell!!!!!) That's how my evening started. It ended with 45 minutes in the back of a police cruiser.

I've never before had occasion to sit in the back of a police cruiser. I never realized how little room they afford you back there. I suppose the tighter someone is crushed in, the less likely they would be able to cause any significant problems. I honestly don't know how in the world they squeeze anyone of generous proportions into that little itty bitty space. The problem wasn't getting in so much as it was getting out. I suppose that's the whole point. Once you're in, you aren't meant to get out so easily. Which is why you also can't open the door from the inside, even when you are allowed to leave. The cop has to physically release you.

I witnessed a mugging. At the time, we didn't realize that was what was occuring. I thought just a couple of crazy teenagers messing about on the sidewalk. Tripping over the snowbank, running and jumping in a van.

"hmmm, crazy kid! He just left his girlfriend standing at the side of the road! Maybe they had a fight!?"
"oh, look! She's running out into the middle of the street to .... ? Look at his license plate?!!!!!!!!!!"
"D'OH!!!!"

We were a block away at least and they were just sillouettes moving quietly under the light.

I stopped on my way back from walking my friend to the corner and asked if she was ok. I had a blackberry thrown at my ear. This was my second first time event of the evening. I had never before used one of these wretched creatures. I felt like I was speaking to a calculator!

"This is 911 dispatch, would you......blah, blah, blah......and please remain on the scene until the police arrive. They may want to take your statement."

They did and they did. I could see on his screen in the front of his car the woman's name, address, and that she had been held up at knife point after just coming out from a bank machine.

After writing my info and then being subsequently interviewed, all in the darkend back of teh vehicle without my reading glasses might I add, the officer took my id which happend to be my driver's license and swipped it into the computer. Yikes! Good think I didn't have any outstanding warrants or anything. I was a sitting duck!

Anyhow, he thanked me, uncaged me and laughed with me as I fumbled my way out of the back of the car. I tucked my purse into my jacket and pensively walked the last few blocks to my car.

The only thing I really saw was perhaps the colour and shape of the vehicle the mugger was driving. It differed from the description of that of the woman making the claim. It seems though, that my description turned out to be the one that was probably right. I guess there was a purpose in my being there after all. And no, I don't mean that now I won' t go out so late in that area alone, Mr. Perp. It just means that next time I'll make sure that my purse is tucked into my jacket, and that I don't go to a bank machine that late at night!

I've been jailed. Yes, sad but true. The weather finally warmed enough to stick more than just a nose out the front door....and I am house bound. Fond memories of a place I used to love to visit every winter taunt me. I can almost feel myself gliding semi-gracefully down the seemingly never ending smooth ice surface of "the worlds longest skateway." AS RECORDED by the Guiness Book of Records people (so in your face other Canadian city who thinks it's you! HA!)

I can almost taste the beaver tails melting, oh so slowly, in my mouth. I like mine with cinnamom and sugar. MMMmmmmm! And a hot chocolate with little marshmellows is a nice finish to this fine delicacy. I haven't tried any other flavours of beaver tail, but why do so when you have tasted perfection with your first choice?

My children's virus' decided that it would be more fun to have only one child home sick at a time to stretch out the amount of time that they can keep me held up in our home.

Ottawa's Beavertails
One particular form of this "bread," adapted from a recipe in Renfrew County in Ontario, has become very popular at Winterlude, Ottawa's annual cold weather festival. Indeed Pam and Grant Hooker's Beavertails are the culinary hit of every winter carnival in Canada's capital city. The Hookers adapted an old family recipe, from a grandmother who lived near Medicine Hat, based on a German dish called Küchl or Kökle ‘little cake.’
To make Hooker's Beavertails, a swatch of sweet, whole wheat pastry dough is put through a roller and stretched out to a vaguely beavertail-like shape, then it is fried for a minute or two in hot vegetable oil. The fried dough is then painted with melted butter and various savoury toppings are applied. Among the Hooker's best-selling Beavertails are those bedecked with cinnamon and sugar. They have many franchise operations across Canada. A popular Beavertail at the British Columbia skiing resort of Whistler is one slathered with cream cheese and smoked Pacific salmon.