I was hungry. It had been a long bike ride into the dark country and I had forgotten to eat lunch before leaving. Always a no-no. I've never had a panini before, but the "Panini au Poulet" looked to good to pass up. I ordered it as written, in French.

Now as you can see from the above picture, I am at a beautiful little French cafe in a converted old home with lovely gardens and art work for sale scattered throughout the premises. After spending much of my summer "coffeeing" here I decided I was ready to try my hand at French.
As I approach the counter the young Frenchman behind immediately starts speaking in hyperspeed French. Is there, after all, any other kind? I am pleased by this, despite the fact that I have been attending this cafe a few mornings a week and always speak to this exact same fellow in English. He never seems to remember me, or at least that I am not a French speaking individual. This is good! I can practice on him.

"Panini au Poulet, et un petite cafe doux." I request politely.

"We will bring the Panini out to you when it's ready." he replies, in English. He's obviously marked me as the impostor I am.

About 15 minutes later a flustered version of this very same normally cool and collected guy comes out and starts giving me the low down on why I wasn't already enjoying a piping hot panini. He's now gone from speaking at the speed of sound, to breaking the sound barrier and moving in on light speed French.....and I have absolutely no clue what he is saying!!!!!

I sit and watch his lips in awe, trying to grab at least one word that I could make out and perhaps aide me in deciphering what it is he is trying to tell me. Suddenly he stops. He waits. He stares at me awaiting my response.

"Ummm, I'm sorry, I could only make out part of what you said." A little white lie on my part.

What took him about three times as long to say in French has been compressed to a quick sentence in English. French is such a wordy language!

"Oh! There was a mix-up with your Panini and we are now making another for you." he replies looking quite relieved.

You see, I have started remembering something else about the French while observing them at this cafe. Having had Francophone relatives I should have remembered that when they get annoyed, angry, or just slightly ticked off they tend to get loud. Very loud. They like to speak with their hands too! When he remembered I was only Anglophone, he knew he was as good as off the hook. There would be no unruly scene.

Eventually a young lady comes to my side and says, "Vous poulet?"
Now, about a half hour after I ordered my lunch I am sitting day dreaming, and have forgotten my panini for the time being and am taken aback by this woman calling me a chicken for no apparent reason.

"What?" I respond with an annoyed and slightly loud reply.

"Panini au polet?" she says not seeming to notice my raised voice.

"Oui, merci." I finally have my lunch.

Finally, as the final crumbs of my first and probably last panini disappear, I pick up my mug and bring it to the counter. I am polite and hate to see the staff have to come outside to get it. The young man looks at me and says,

"Panini?" in a questioning voice.

And I reply,"Non.... Finini."

Collecting Nuts

While the squirrels are collecting nuts for the winter, so will I. Here are the nuttier points of my Summer. An overview, as you will....if it really matters to anyone.

What I saw:

Jesus riding a bicycle. He was wearing a long brown hooded robe, sandals and had a face full of hair and long flowing locks. How did I know it was Jesus and not Moses? He didn't look a thing like Charelton Heston and wasn't a card carrying member of the NRA.

A very large and startled doe almost took me off my bike. In the middle of the city people, on the edge of the downtown core. I was riding over from Quebec. I looked over to see a doe running at full break-neck speed straight at me. I hit the breaks and freaked her out and she darted back into a wooded area along side the road.

I'm still not convinced that this wasn't a diabolical plot by the other half of we to take me out by bike. Mr. P would have loved the venison too, had they let him keep it.

I came across a smallish black bear foraging along the bike path. It was ok though! There was a roller-blader right behind me and he was moving slower than me. He was also juicier and tastier looking with a crunchier coating. (I had forgotten to wear my helmut that day.) At least to a bear I mean. I did warn him though....the man. More so because I wanted to see if he could see the bear too or if it was just a hallucination. Thank God! It was real.

I watched my brother in law looking very hot in his fire fighters equipment using the jaws of life to take apart a car. First of all, by hot I mean it was a roasty toasty day and I felt sorry for anyone in uniform. I won't completely admit though that it wasn't a double entendre! Second of all, it was just a demonstration and did not have anything to do with my driving. It's just too bad that they accidentally used the wrong car for the demonstration. kidding!

A middle aged woman of Asian decent walking sideways and/or backwards along the bike path every morning. I don't know. What more can I say about that?

Two individuals rolling around in the grass, making out along the bike path. They were dressed in clothing worn by a very strict religious group who have been known to get upset if you insult them. So I won't say anymore. I just sure hope for her sake she doesn't get pregnant!

My doctor cry. The medication for my Anxiety Disorder had the unexpected side effect of making me more creative, smarter, more charming and beautiful beyond compare....ok. Maybe just marginally more creative. She took full credit for my newly found talent and was quite pleased with my portfolio. So much so that she grabbed me in a bear hug while I was sitting naked in nothing but a paper sheet and a smile on the examination table. Maybe next time I show someone my portfolio I'll make sure I'm wearing clothes.

My favourite pastor leave our church. We took the summer off and now God has his work cut out for him! I'm like Dr. House on a bad day. That's what happens when you don't nourish the soul. I did attend one service at a new church. They started in on Global warming and I just had to never go back there again. PLEASE! Isn't there anywhere to hide from that bogus topic!!!?

And finally.....I quit drawing, blogging, writing. Biking pretty much filled my time. I have as much artistic talent right now as a one year old with a hand full of poop. I can draw something, but it just makes a mess. Ditto for the writing.

Curfew

When I mention the word curfew, most people would think about children and adolescence. It's something used to help keep our younger folks safe and out of trouble after the fall of darkness. Most wouldn't think of mandatory curfews being in place for individuals say....in their 90's!

My Grandmother is 94 years old. She has a curfew. Back to the Nursing home before 9pm or you're locked out baby! Just pull up a rock and sleep on the sidewalk cause you aren't getting in!

Now I'm sure there are rules such as this for safety reasons. Someone wandering in or out of the nursing home when there are possibly less staff to deal with them at night. Perhaps they are worried about undesirables coming into the home from off the street.

I never stopped to seriously think it could be to contain troublesome behavior on the part of the older folks. At least not until I watched Grandma start rockin' to Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell" on the way home. Then I started to remember.

At the age of 90, my Grandmother and her second husband could be seen cruising around the city in a new Volkswagon Beetle, (it's a very comfortable ride she told me.) decked out in leather coats, pants and boots. They were both always at the height of fashion. Hair perfectly coiffed, make-up and jewelry. She looked pretty good too;-) She has all her original teeth. Perfect and white. How I don't know, but true.

Soon after that, the housework became too much of a chore and they decided to move to a nursing home. He lost all will to live and passed on not long after. I think his son had instructed him in this. He is a well respected doctor. At least to some. I can't imagine telling my parents time to let go, so don't eat or drink for a couple of weeks and you can pass painfully away. From where I was sitting, that's what it looked like happened.

My Grandmother is a fighter though. She lost her first husband and 36 year old son to cancer within a month of each other. She has had two of her Grandsons fight brain tumors, and lost a Granddaughter at aged 40 suddenly to an aneurysm. Brother's and sisters have passed ahead of her. Her Mother died at 102. She was a fighter as well.

I was getting sleepy and decided to forgo asking if she minded my turning on the radio. I thought perhaps if I kept it low enough it wouldn't bother her sitting in the passenger seat beside me. Her mind isn't as sharp as it used to be, but there's nothing wrong with her ears!

I tuned in my favourite radio station to find they were playing a set of Billy Idol tunes. "Oh brother!" I thought as I turned it down further. Of all the Artists to start with, I was hoping for something a wee bit more mellow.

As we drew closer to her residence I could hear a tapping to match the music which soon became a full fledged drumming from beside me. Normally I'd yell at the kids to stop. I can't stand a back seat drummer. But I couldn't this time. My Grandmother was enjoying herself too much. She was keeping perfect time to "Rebel Yell." Head bobbing, humming and smiling.

Maybe there is a reason some 94 year olds have a curfew after all!

This is a practice on using coloured pencils. I've got much to do on this one still, but how much work should one put into a practice picture?

I can't believe it. I think Mr. P might be trying to take me out. As in to the great beyond. Why else would he have me cycle the hilly cliff laden path over on the "dark side" of the country? Oh sure, it's beautiful. Most of it anyways. Once you get by the hydo stations, industrial area, the crazy cursing French drivers and passed the old French overweight pot bellied bathing beauties lining the shore. All men. Yuck! I have pictures. I took them with my cell phone, but unfortunately they will not be shown due to technical difficulties. Ok. It's really due to my computer ineptitude.

I came to one hill that had a warning sign that showed a bike a steep decline and huge lettering that said, "DANGER." Good think I speak enough French to know what DANGER means! They didn't have it in English;-)

Funny thing I noticed when I was over there was that there were cranes, ducks, but not one Canadian Goose. There are loads of them on the Ontario side. You have to beat a path through them in certain points of the trip. I'm not surprised though really. It is Quebec. They don't even recognize Canada Day like the rest of the country. I wouldn't take a chance over there either if I were an animal with Canada in my name.

Anyhow, I made it back. Almost threw up a few times along the way. Is that a bad sign? Maybe he's trying to invoke a heart attack. To be fair, he didn't specifically tell me to try the 16.7 mile path in 98 degree heat. It's my last free morning before school is out and I thought I'd go for it before I'm completely tied down.

Boy, I can't wait for that 8 hour bike ride next Spring he's asked me to go on with him. I don't know how many miles it is, but at least it stays on the flat side of the country.

Just a wee bit more to go. With my luck lately though, I'm sure I'll spill something on it just as I get it done.

CU 3 coming alive....but not quite done!

I have been asked why I don't draw my own children. I guess one good reason is that Adventurer is my supplier of some of the best photos ever! I however am not a photographer. Since it is so hard to sketch a moving model with detail such as is displayed here, (at least a few hours worth) I'll keep sketching other peoples kids for the time being. But hey! Summer vacation is coming up. If I can get my kids to sit still for 8 to 10 hours.....aaahhhhh, maybe not.

CU 3 - continues

CU 3

Here's another one for grandma C. This is CU number 3. I thought I'd post this one at various stages of completion. The last one I did that to stalled. Hopefully I'll have better luck with this one.

It's a lovely day outside. Or it would have been had I decided to go about my usual routine and bike with the other half of we part way to work. This has become our routine. I go with him to the border of our province and let him do "that other one" himself. I hate to cross over to the dark side of the bridge because were I to get hurt, lost or find myself in need of a Gatorade I'd have a hell of a time trying to get them to understand what I want. C'est terrible! Excuse my French, but I just don't speak the language.

Anyhow, that's all irrelevant because the other half of we blew me off today in favour of another woman! He was meeting her behind the Parliament buildings.

"But dear, I want to know where the path is so I can cycle behind them instead of in front of them." he insists innocently.

Like we all haven't heard that lame duck excuse before!

A date. My husband had a date. I was willing to overlook the lunch date. Both of them. This is different! This is my time. I actually even went further yesterday to keep him company. I went 20.53 km! Since he decided to stay in Canada a bit longer and take a different bridge.

Oh well. Makes me feel less guilty for purchasing those two art books online the other day.

And for the record....I only admired the black bald and buff fellow from a distance on the bike path last month. I didn't try to follow him behind Parliament Hill!

CU 1

I'm being urged out of artistic retirement by higher forces. I think!?

Here's one for Grandma C may recognize.

Mr. Hunter

This is the reason I find myself sleeping with my pillow and blanket at night half in a dog crate.

This is the reason that I have to wash my floors every couple of hours. Floors, carpets, deck boards, grass......(I don't was the grass, d'uh! I have to rinse the runny poops off though!)

This is the reason that I have perfect strangers approaching me and talking 'baby talk' at my side. Seems to especially attract the stinky people. Especially the ones that smoke. They can't seem to pass on by.

This is the reason I have to baby proof my house ..... again.

This is the dog that knows how to open his dog crate.

This is the dog that knows how to get food off of the cupboard and dog food from the closed bag.

This is the dog that absolutely loves yarn as much as any kitten you may find and can shred a baby blanket in the process of being created faster then I can grab it from him.

This is the dog that has his days and nights mixed up.

This is the smartest puppy I have ever come across. I'm talking scary smart!

This is Hunter. God have mercy on me!

The list of volunteers was growing. I offered to do portraits for free for family and friends. All they had to do was supply me with an appropriate picture that I could work from. I got what I asked for.

While flipping through the many sheets of models containing dogs, dogs, and more dogs, people, places and things, I settled on this one. Only.....I was feeling a little bored at the time, restless and silly. A bad combination in an artist apparently working on a wedding portrait. I accidentally put the dress and earring on him and the shirt on her. Darn it!

I inverted the picture as to not disclose the truly true identity of the people. The original is in graphite on white paper. I think though, I like this version even better! I may try it in white on black now!

Cute Kid Stuff

I found 4 of 4 laughing at the breakfast table this morning and so I asked what was so funny.

"The radio wezzah lady said that it was going to be number 11 today with clowns in the sky havin' showers." she laughed quite heartily.

"I think she meant it's going to be 11 degrees (yes, celcius) with CLOUDS in the sky and possible showers."

"oh....that's funny, eh!?"

Gettin' into my Jeans

The punchline was, "You're not the only one who wants to get into your pants." It came from my Mother-in-law when I mentioned that her abundance of desserts would cause problems with my waistline, and that I wanted to avoid them so I could get into my pants. She was looking at Mr. P when saying this with a grin as big as Texas as he gave her a warning glance and told her not to say it. Little did I know he took it a little more literally than figuratively.

He called to me from the living room while I was busy in another room. He sounded .... eager and playful. "Oh, what do you want now, I'm busy." I replied.

"Just come here. I want to show you something!" I bet you do I think as I head out to the living room. I was not however, expecting to see what I did upon entering.

There, standing in the middle of the living room, was the other half of we with nothing on but a smile and my jeans.

"You Bast***! (I am not a swearing woman, and don't believe I have ever called him a vulgar name in my life, at least not until yesterday.) You've got some nerve!" You see, I have told him on occasion, that the day he could fit into my jeans was the day I killed myself. I guess he wanted me dead, because there he stood in the middle of the room.....IN MY JEANS! He even looked better in them than I do!

"Well, they are loose on me you know!" I say, trying to save a shred of dignity.

"Hey, me too!" he answers with an even larger grin than before.

The only thing that saved him from a ice water bath in bed while he slept was that he's not fat. Otherwise he possibly wouldn't have lived to see another day.

My only question is why he was shirtless. Was he hoping to try my bra on too? Wouldn't surprise me I guess. That kind of thing runs in his family.

I've been remiss in my blogging duties. Life's funny that way.

It was the last half hour of the last day of ski season. Typical. The gravel had broken though it's winter confines and was now the prominent feature in the parking lot. I was in the ski lodge sketching and looking forward to packing up and leaving. Twenty more minutes to go and we were out of there! Then the news came.

Two of four came excitedly into the lodge. "Mom!!!!!!! One of Four fell on the last run and the ski patrol are taking her off of the hill in the toboggan. Oh ya....and Daddy said a swear word!"

After an entire season of three of the four of our kids skiing in the racing program, One of Four falls going at a snails pace down a small part of the hill to go and find her racing results. Apparently bindings don't release really well when you're going that slow when they hit a patch on the hill where there is actually still some snow.

Two days, one surgery and about 6 ice cream bars later, we are home. Full cast from the upper thigh to the ankle is what you get when you rip a chunk of tibia bone away from your knee cap. Ligaments are stronger than bone when you are 11. I'm told this is a good thing since bone heals better than ligaments.

Funny thing is, she seems to have enjoyed much of the process (although not all). The ambulance ride with the silly singing paramedics was a ride of a life time. Getting to order your food in the same manner you would through room service in a five star hotel, and getting to choose pogos, fries, ice-cream, pizza from the menu was unlike anything she has been allowed at home! Your own personal t.v. in bed, people running to your every beck and call at just the push of a button and ....ah yes! Morphine! Hooked up to a self administration pump. Finally...."crotches" as she frequently called them. Once we explained the difference between what a crotch was and a crutch, she finally got it right. Unfortunately her French Canadian physiotherapist couldn't. They were crotches to her as well.

Not my dog

As per your request Adventurer......the creepy eye;-)

Bath Time

Portrait #1

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.

Congratulations!

An old cartoon for a new baby boy. Congratulations to Adventurer, DH, and CU's 1-3 and Grandma C and family. The baby (from now on to be know as CU 4?) was a whopping 10lb 12oz healthy boy. He was not due for at least another week. Could you imagine if..... Yikes!

Now on to Robbie Burns day. Mr. P. If you so much as try to set foot in this house with that stomach turning, vomitrocious, putrid dish know as hagus again this year....May you rest in peace! I'm the Scottish one, you're NOT! So bring me home some green beer and we'll pretend we had hagus instead.

Don't they have anything that doesn't taste like you're licking a dogs butt? (not that I've ever tried that people!) They must have some....tasty dessert or something more palitable and, you know....edible!!!?

Onion Brain and Sour Cream Delight

I've written a few blog entries lately. Unfortunately I've done so only in my head. I was just thinking that things will be so much easier when they find a way to hook the computer directly to my brain. I don't expect that will happen in my life time. Upon reflection, I started to wonder if this sort of device would be such a good idea after all.

My brain tends to think in layers. Kind of like an onion. For each single thought awaiting verbalization, there are always multiple thoughts simultaneously vying to be the one chosen to be expressed. Luckily, there is a little "thought traffic controller" in my head editing and choosing the most appropriate dialogue. Sometimes the forces gang up on this little fellow and over ride it, at which point I generally end up looking like a shrew or a total ass. (I don't normally like to use obscene language when blogging, but if the big ass fits....)

A friend, as well as my brother, an artist, recommended a book called "Drawing on the Right Side of Your Brain." What it said seemed to make a lot of sense to me. The only problem was that I don't think that I actually have a right side of the brain. Not that I'd ever noticed anyhow. I never visualize in pictures, feelings, etc... I believe though, I may be a wee bit hasty in this assumption!

The other day I was walking through the dairy section of the grocery store and I had the most intense desire for sour cream that I had ever had before. This was not expressed in a verbal format as left-sided thinking is, but in a gut retching desire that I could not explain. It was all I could do to pass by the sour cream without at least feeling one of the containers. Sniffing the container. Maybe a quick lick of the container would suffice? I didn't understand this strong feeling I was experiencing. I had never liked sour cream that much before.

As I passed through the sourcream aisle, I moved onto the potato chip/soft drink aisle. Then it hit me. Dip. I needed sour cream to make dip for the vegetable plate I was bringing to my brothers for Christmas dinner. Great! Now I don't just have a multiple layer onion brain talking to me in words, now my Right brain has finally kicked in, after all these years of just atrophying in my head, and finally decided to function and throw in it's two cents too!

Why wouldn't it send me a picture of vegetables with dip all arranged beautifully on a plate. Wouldn't that have been more effective? What's with wanting to slather myself in sour cream and absorb it through my every pour? Does this mean that not only is my left brain an opinionated know-it-all ass that is incorrect most of the time, now my right brain is stupid too? [sigh] Maybe hooking up directly to my brain isn't such a good idea after all.

Thank goodness I wasn't shopping for personal feminine hygiene products!

Someone just sent me this e-mail link in an attempt to assist me in the realization that I am indeed not too old to try something:

http://www.solsup.com.au:80/greenman/Nevertooold.jpg

EWWWWWW! That's just wrong! I don't feel better, just sick! The age of these individuals isn't the main point of this article. It's that they are all insane!

I have always been told that God gives each of us a gift. Some of us have even been fortunate enough to receive more than one. Wow. The trick is to find out what that gift is and to use it to the best of our God given ability to serve him and others. Did he doze off when I got up to bat or what!?

I'm not sure what my gift is. Perhaps in my case he decided to send me on a scavenger hunt to figure out what it might be. Maybe eventually I will figure out what the heck I'm doing, but not yet. I just hope I've actually figured out exactly what it was before I finally expire! I think I may be getting close.....to expiring that is. Much like that green powder puff tangerine in my daughters lunch bag, along with the 5 sandwiches sitting there since December 22nd that I just found....I should be put out to pasture. Squirrel food.

My melancholy mood all started with two boxes of hair dye and a book called "2006 Artist's & Graphic Designer's Market."

Santa decided that my daughters were good this year and should get what they asked for for Christmas. 2 of 4's heart's desire was a box of temporary hair dye. Copper Explosion to be exact. What does that mean in laymans terms? Honey... that means Orange.

Now there was a time that having orange hair meant that you called yourself a red head and hoped that you didn't get beat up before lunch. If you didn't get called carrot top before the end of the day it's because you stayed home sick from school. Now unbelievably kids actually want to have orange hair.

1 of 4 decided that if her sister was to have orange hair there was no earthly reason why she shouldn't be allowed to have passionate plum to enhance her beauty. Translation: A burgandy purple. I don't even think the colour purple had yet been invented when I was a kid. Nobody wore or dyed anything purple that I can remember. Huh. Purple?

Anyhow, a very dear friend gifted to me some business cards with kind and supportive words, along with the above mentioned book. I was pumped. I was going to sell my art. Well, not the stuff that I've already done, cause I haven't done any yet, but the great stuff that I would produce. Then I read the book.

Apparently it helps with your endeavours if you have actually trained as an artist first. I'm friggin' 41 years old! Do they think that I'm some kid just out of school or something? Do I look like a have hours a day to sit down and produce art, go to school, wear weird clothes, become gay and learn the art lingo? Heck! My brother-in-law is just recovering from a heart attack at 39 years old! I'm on my way down baby! Art couldn't possibly be my gift to give! Is this some kind of a sick joke, because I'm too old to learn something new now!

Please note that in the afore mentioned book..."2006 Artist's & Graphic Designer's Market"....the editor instructs the user that the first stage when one considers a career in art is the Denial ("I can't do it!) stage. I'm there baby!

After entering one of the caption contests in the New Yorker I received a form e-mail encouraging me not to give up. After all this particular cartoonist submits at least 40 cartoons for every one that get's published. Great. At a cost of about $3.50 cdn to mail it with a SASE to the states per cartoon, plus paper, ink and envelopes I'm looking at a profit of about negative $90-$125.00/accepted cartoon. Woohoo! [wimper, sob]

At 39 I took up the piano, quilting, co-ordinating a children's program, dressing up lawn ornamentation of strangers. At 40 I took up blogging. What makes my true passion so hard to take a chance at? Fear of failure? An inadequate amount of time? Not wanting to see naked people modelling knowing I couldn't draw the private parts without a giggle? Your guess is as good as mine!

It's beginning to look a lot like Spring time
Warm temperatures everywhere
The skis are all out
Even with no snow about
Warm balmy breezes blowing everywhere.....

It's beginning to look a lot like Spring time
Hot cocoa heats you up
Shed off that winter coat
The cocoa burns your throat
Mucky leaves and mud cakes everywhere.....

It's beginning to look a lot like Spring time
Santa can't come by
There's not a stitch of snow
He'll land on his ass I know
If he tried to land a sled without the snow

It's beginning to look a lot like Spring time
How can this all be
We're in Canada
Not in Nevada
Where the hell's the snow this time of year????

It's beginning to look a lot like Spring time
A white Christmas?
Not a chance
So get out your shorts and pools
With mitts you'd look a fool
And do your "Happy Global Warming" dance.

It's beginning to look a lot like Spring time
Jesus was born we know
In a warm climate
We're just being authentic
So let's have Christmas this way every year!

Christmas Caroles For The Mentally Disturbed

1. Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?

2. Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Kings Disoriented Are

3. Dementia --- I Think I'll be Home for Christmas

4. Narcissistic --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me

5. Manic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streetsand Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Treesand.....

6. Paranoid --- Santa Claus is Coming to Town to Get Me

7. Borderline Personality Disorder --- Thoughts of Roasting on an OpenFire

8. Personality Disorder --- You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'mGonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why

9. Attention Deficit Disorder --- Silent night, Holy oooh look at thefroggy can I have a chocolate, why is France so far away?

10. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder --Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,JingleBells,Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,JingleBells, Jingle Bells, Jingle

This was e-mailed to me by a friend. If you take offense to any of this and think that I am posting this with you personally in mind, go back to #6 and Merry Christmas.

My excitement yesterday was too great to contain. I had to call somebody! I knew just who. Being the owner of one of the pair of angel fish I was excited about, I rang "White Mocha" with the good news. It went as follows:

Perp: "Our angel fish have spawned and there are little squiggly things squirming around on one of the leaves of the sword plant......(blah, blah, blah.)"

Mocha: "Great. I'll have to come and see them tomorrow."

[ding dong]

Perp: "Oh! Someones at the door and I'm naked. I have to go."

I opened the door to find my parents there, after I dressed myself of course, and it hit me. I just blurted out that I was naked to White Mocha. Will she think I always disrobe before making a call? Or just before I call her perhaps? I relate the end of the conversation to my parents. My father burst out into a fit of laughter. Not good. He has a more .... interesting sense of humour. I have to call her back to explain.

Perp: "I want to appologize and explain about my naked comment..."

Mocha: "huh?"

Perp: "I had been getting dressed when I noticed the angel fry and called right away before I got dressed. I had been wearing my underwear, so I wasn't actually naked. I usually don't make a point of calling people when I am dressing, but I just was so excited about the fish....."

Mocha: "S'ok. I didn't actually hear you say it, but I understand anyways."


After hanging up I started to wonder what exactly she understood. That she too would have been so excited and could not wait to make that ever important call, or that I am an insane person that has been know to do bizzare things and blurt out even crazier phrases and she's used to my odd behavior. Hmmm. I wonder.

This was sent to me by Adventurer. I just want to know if they sell a version of these that snores and wakes you up claiming that it's you snoring. Also, if it would just about bounce you off the bed when turning over and occasionally talk in it's sleep it would be just like the real thing. (If you had them scented with "ode to garlic breath after a large feist of foreign food breath".....heaven;-)

Last Mom Standing

Caution! This entry contains Barbie nudity and possibly some course language by the end of my rant. Viewer discretion is advised!


I was going to spend this blog entry speaking about the charming creature I found dressed in a skirt and lovely matching scarf at the grocery store a while back. (No....it wasn't a kilt he was wearing. Most definately a cordoroy skirt.) The cable to hook my cell phone up to the computer was missing....big suprise. This led me to sit in frustration and scan my desktop.

I just want to know who the heck had a party at my desk and forgot to invite me! I will clean it, yet again, and by tomorrow or the next day tops it will be right back to the way it was today.

I stood at the bus stop this morning (after a rousing game of beat the bus) with my neighbour and her two daughters. Long after the bus had left her remaining four year old child continued on with the all out screaming tantrum that she had apparently started long before in the house. Let's call my friend"White Mocha" after her favourite Starbucks treat, offered to kindly donate the minor to our family free of charge. As generous as the offer was, I had to decline. I have an identical model already inhabiting our humble abode. She's called Three of Four. And on some days she can seem horrendously evil.

I feel bad for my friend having to remain cooped up in her house with such a beastly creature. So, out of the kindness of my heart, I will go out to coffee with her this afternoon so that she will have a chance to get away from sharing quality time alone with her daughter. I don't do this for just anyone you understand. Going to coffee is one of the more trying dutiesthat my job entails.

Anyhow, this lead me to think that there should be a show in the spirit of "Last Comic Standing" called Last Mom Standing. As painful as it would be to watch, I would get a deep down sense of relief watching the show and seeing that other peoples' kids can be as rotten as mine sometimes are, and that doesn't make me a bad parent for wanting to donate them to my friends occastionally.

As much as I love my children, there are times when I wish that children were something that you take out on special occasions and put away when you aren't using them. The rest of the time however, I feel blessed and greatful that they are here. Oddly enough at the end of a particularily trying day, it's usually when they are asleep and looking so angelic that I am greatful.

Well, that's it for today. I need to dislodge the rat from the pencil he has just destroyed and get him to his cage before he moves onto the wiring.

It's a lovely day in the neighbourhood

Notice to all neighbourhood squirrels:

Please refrain from leaving squirrel nuggets on our fence. Although yes, we did spend a substantial amount of money to errect a new perch for your sitting pleasure, it was not intended to also double as a toilet. Also, please fight the urge to urinate on the bike seats, stroller tray and any other item sitting around the doorstep.

Stop begging at the back patio door for your breakfast after 8am....the kitchen is closed! If you don't get served by Mr. P. before that time, no amount of begging, chirping, twitching or flinging of squirrel nuggets will persuade me to give up the goods.


Notice to new Canadians:

We welcome you to our country, enjoy. Please however consider wearing deodourant and showering once in a while, especially before shopping at a mall. We here in Canada have lots of water. Don't worry about running out, we won't.

Also, although I am sure you were brought up to speed on the weather situation here, let me reinforce the fact that it is a colder climate than most. Sandals with bare feet are not an appropriate choice for now or during the middle of winter. Feet are especially unattractive when they are cold!

Finally, to the gentleman (and I use this term loosely!) who was pleasuring himself in front of the potato chips at the grocery store:

Maybe you could wear some underwear under your robe. Maybe some people are impressed with your "tent" making abilities....I am not one of them however. I would prefer not to have to explain to my children why "that man in the long white dress is spending so much time smiling at the barbeque potato chips. Oh, and by the way mom, what's that he's holding on to through his dress?" Also, please find a more suitable place to shake hands with your best friend. I don't need to share that.

I've seen this a few times and it never fails to amaze even my little brain. Someone needs to go back to grade school to learn how to spell!;-)

The phenomenal power of the human mind

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdaniegThe phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid! Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer inwaht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? Yaeh, and I awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.

Givin' Money To God

I was preparing to post for today when it was preempted by 4 of 4's comments. I now post her conversation....already in progress:

4 of 4:"So Dariah and Charlese, some people sneaked into their house and took their somethings and their stuff. They were really bad people. Why would they do that?"

Perp: "They did it because they wanted money probably."

4 of 4: "Why they want money for?"

Perp: (hmmmm. I don't want to get into a discussion about drugs, or wayward teens or pawn shops....) Maybe they were hungry and wanted money for food. It's not right that they stole something to get that money, but it happens."

4 of 4: "They should have just went to the bank machine."

Perp: "But you can't take money out if you don't have any money in your account. You have to put money in before you take it out!"

4 of 4: "Like the woman Jesus talked about who gave all the money she had away to the bank machine."

I guess this must be the modern version of the old parable.

Clarification

There has been some concern raised that the "blemish" on Mr. P. in the afore mentioned blog entry may be assumed to be on one of the more delicate and unmentionable areas of his body. Let me take this opportunity to make it clear that the blemish was actually on his face. He just didn't want it known that he used a touch of concealer to cover the outrageously large zit. Oooops!

Yesterday I also received the following from one of my dear cousins:

Warning!! Aliens are coming to abduct all the good looking and sexy people. You will be safe, I'm just e-mailing you to say good-bye.

Upon further clarification we were told that I too was to be abducted, but not Mr. P. I guess no amount of concealer can adequately cover blemishes as to render them invisible to aliens. As for myself, well you saw the picture I posted a couple of days ago. I'm not holding my breath. I think I'll be on the planet for a long, long, long, long time.

Thank you. That's all.

Growing Older, The Funny Part

Today I awoke to a sore back and a husband that thought it would be hilariously funny to write a "tell all" story on my deterioration through the aging process. I did not, however, find this amusing. Not at first anyhow.

I spent some time this morning reflecting on some changes that I have noticed with regards to The Other Half Of We that I do find funny. Here they are.

You know you are getting old when:

*Your wallet, which you have worn in the same pant pocket for many a year, starts to cause problems in your back and you are forced to wear it on the other side. TaDa! This works!

*There is more hair growing on previously virginal hair areas than what is actually growing on your head, which now looks like virginal hair territory.

*The sport which was once enjoyed as a true passion to the point of obsession, is now more of an uphill battle than a downhill ski run.

*Golfing seems like a more age appropriate workout than cycling.

*While you once threatend to replace an aging wife with two twenty year olds, that now seems like child molestation, since they are closer in age to your daughter than yourself.

*You're asleep by 8pm sharp on the couch.....oh wait, that's not something new. You've always done that.

*The mathmatics that was once advanced calculus for you in high school is now being taught at your 11 year olds grade 6 level. And there aren't nuns with rulers standing over her ready to beat it into her.

*People you know are starting to look like their relatives when their relatives were really old.

*You just don't get that younger generation anymore. You know.....anyone younger than 42.

*You used to sneak all manner of creatures onto school buses and into your parents home, but now don't want your kids to get even a dog.

*Psst...I won't mention the thing you were worried that I might mention on my blog....you know, the hiding of a blemish.

I think I'll stop there. I have a couple more good ones, but I don't want a divorce just yet, so they'll have to wait for another time.

Anyhow Mr. Perpetual Chocoholic, I still love you, you old man. And I never threaten to trade you for two twenty year olds. You can thank me by sending me for a trip to Jamaica baby.....alone;-)

Well there goes Spotty trying to impress by showing off his more flashy end again. Not my doing. He likes to be the eyes in the back of my head. If something nasty is coming my way he just digs in...literally, and scratches my face off trying to get away. But at least I know something nasty is coming!

Things were a little harried for a while in our extended family. Birthdays, serious illness' of relatives, death in one case. (We'll miss you Uncle J.) But look out, I'm back. I think I may have been abducted by lawn ornamentation again, because that's the only reason I can explain my not writing for so long. It seems time is in a vacuum when I'm with them.

Boy, do I ever feel like Garfield looks this morning. Only I'm not holding a coffee, but I wish I were! Happy Monday.

Like my new mouse cover?

I'm swimming in a sea of ordinary. Normal people surround me at every turn.
I've not seen a single solitary gnome this whole entire week. (except my own.)
Speedy actually stops the bus to let my children on and off.
No weird people have asked me for my opinion on their choice of purchases at the big "Wallies."

Sometimes the abnormality of normal needs a little push to return to the normal of abnormality. Tonight feels like a night for bunny ears at church.

Only a couple more weeks and a very small amount of make-up, and this lovely lady will be greeting kiddies at the door!

It's Monday morning again. At least in my head. Long weekends do that to me. Extra long weekends just make me crazy.

Due to Thanksgiving being this past Monday, garbage day will be pushed back until Saturday from Friday. This does not bode well for me or the turkey carcass just screaming to escape the clutches of the sealed garbage can to the ever waiting little grubby hands of squirrels. It was a wild turkey the other half of we caught this past Spring. They will set it free once again all over my driveway. I can look forward to cleaning it up. Frequently.

I had gotten a fair amount of yard work completed this weekend. I'm sore. It's not so much that I'm out of shape as my shape is ever changing and my current form isn't conducive to hard physical labour.

My piano teacher told me that gardening is bad for my hands as far as the piano goes. If I get a note from her, is that like getting a note from your doctor? Can I stop the gardening indefinately? At least for as long as I am studying piano?

I found my gnome again amounst the overgrown, dried out echinacea and poppies. Why doen't my gnome help me with the yard work. What good are the blasted things if they don't give a hand once in a while!? I suppose they are like any celebrity. All presence and no substance. I am assuming they are celebrities after all, since they do have their faces on gum packages, and t.v. commercials. I can't seem to go a whole day without seeing one of the hideous creations plastered across something.

Well, I've pretty much covered everything for today. Except.....no, I'll leave my rant about "Speedy" the bus driver for another day.

Happy Thanksgiving Weekend.

I can say that early because, the school board decided that wouldn't it be fun to tack a PD day onto a long weekend and give the parents four days home with whining, fighting, energetic kids.

We actually celebrated last weekend since my sister is moving to Nova Scotia. We couldn't have a family fight at the dinner table without her after all. Think of what she would be missing.

We headed up to my parents a whole week early so that Mr. P. could act as if his seat was on fire, and my Father could turn red and even I could get into the fray this time, wanting to jump across the table and give my brother in law a good shake. At the end of the political discussion I suggested we move onto a rousing talk on religion, but it was decided it was better not to. They had a large trip ahead of them, and it would have been hard to drive in a body cast.

Thank God they didn't start talking about hockey! We would have all ended up in the hospital!

I don't think, other than grace, we actually mentioned we were thankful for anything. I'll save that for a quiet weekend at home on the actual date. Maybe over the turkey Mr. P shot last spring. I hope he fits in the oven......the turkey that is. As in the wild bird, not Mr. P.

this was emailed to me from Adventurer....

NEW YORK-- A public school teacher was arrested today at John F. Kennedy International Airport as he attempted to board a flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a set square, a slide rule and a calculator.

At a morning press conference, Attorney General AlbertoGonzales said he believes the man is a member of the notorious Al-gebra movement. He did not identify the man,who has been charged by the FBI with carrying weapons ofmath instruction.

"Al-gebra is a problem for us," Gonzales said. "They desire solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on tangents in search of absolute values. They use secret codenames like 'x' and 'y' and refer to themselves as 'unknowns', but we have determined they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country. As the Greek philanderer Isosceles used to say, '"There are 3 sides to every triangle'.

" When asked to comment on the arrest, President Bush said, "If God had wanted us to have better weapons of math instruction, he would have given usmore fingers and toes."White House aides told reporters they could not recall amore intelligent or profound statement by the president.

Howwwwwl! Bring On The Full Moon!

I missed Thursday evening coffee. Poor Adventurer wasn't quite herself. My piano teacher is going off to have a baby and so this was her last lesson for a few months. Our Barista from the coffee shop (my un-named night-time coffee shop.) has changed shifts and a new crew of less generous individuals have taken over. They actually charge us for the coffee. Even the Starbucks crew (my daytime coffee shop) hasn't pitched in a free one in what seems like eons. I even hear that they are going to raise their prices by .05. What....your coffee isn't already costing me enough?!

I found my bunny ears sitting on a bedside table last evening. One of the house monsters must have deposited them there in passing, thinking I looked like I needed to get out for a good coffee and enhancement of lawn ornamentation.

Where is this world going to? Is it Karma? Is this something cyclical? And to add salt to a wound, it's miserable outside. All I can say is when is the next full moon?! That will shake things up.

As a nurse, many, many years ago, I did a float shift on a Psychiatric ward. I was fully in uniform at the time (unlike the regular ward nurses.)I stood out like a glaring beacon of white in a sea of blackness. And yes, it was a full moon to boot.

Now they say that the moon really doesn't have anything to do with the behavior of human kind....poppycock!!!! It was a full moon on this particular night. You should have been there THAT night when the elderly lady was moaning because somebody cut off her penis! And the well spoken young man wouldn't take half his meds because....and here he lost me. It had something to do with quantum physics though. Then there was the gentleman who found the elderly lady's missing appendage. It was attached to him unfortunately. Too bad for her.

I'm not saying I want that kind of confusion brought on me, but do you know I've been to Walmart three times of late and not one 'interesting' individual found their way to me! Is the world going all normal on me? Where's the full moon....bring it on!

....darn, it's not until the 7th of Oct. Sigh.

Wednesday Funnies

I have no idea if I've posted these yet or not. A neighbour sent them to me and since my brain is chocolate depleated (yes, I'm attempting the impossible yet again, to give it up.) I haven't got more than a couple of neurons firing. I'm also low on energy and therefore don't want to expend precious reserves to go back and check.

My brain is pretty much a blank slate of late, but not to worry. I'm heading off to Walmart to do some shopping. If that doesn't invite craziness and mayhem to find me, I don't know what will. Enjoy...or don't.

One day my housework-challenged husband decided to wash his Sweat-shirt. Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, he shouted to me, "What setting do I use on the washing machine?""It depends," I replied. "What does it say on your shirt?"He yelled back, "University of Oklahoma."And they say blondes are dumb...
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A couple is lying in bed. The man says, "I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world." The woman replies, "I'll miss you..."
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"It's just too hot to wear clothes today," Jack says as he stepped out of the shower, "honey, what do you think the neighbors would think if I mowed the lawn like this?" "Probably that I married you for your money," she replied.
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He said - "Shall we try swapping positions tonight?"She said - "That's a good idea, you stand by the ironing board while I sit on the sofa and fart."
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Q: What do you call an intelligent, good looking, sensitive man?A: A Rumor
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A man and his wife, now in their 60's, were celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary. On their special day a good fairy came to them and said that because they had been so good that each one of them could have one wish. The wife wished for a trip around the world with her husband.Whoosh! Immediately she had airline/cruise tickets in her hands.The man wished for a female companion 30 years younger... Whoosh...immediately he turned ninety!!! Gotta love that fairy!
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Dear Lord, I pray for Wisdom to understand my man; Love to forgive him; And Patience for his moods. Because, Lord, if I pray for Strength, I'll beat him to death.AMEN
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Q: Why do little boys whine?A: They are practicing to be men.
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Q: What do you call a handcuffed man?A: Trustworthy.
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Q: What does it mean when a man is in your bed gasping for breath and calling your name?A: You did not hold the pillow down long enough.
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Q: Why do men whistle when they are sitting on the toilet?A: It helps them remember which end they need to wipe.
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Q: How do you keep your husband from reading your e-mail?A: Rename the mail folder "Instruction Manuals"