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"

Monday's Beat The Bus -- Fear Factor Style

Alllllright contestants. On todays beat the bus our family will be required to take caution while attempting to beat the bus, thus avoiding time consuming and potentially dangerous obstacles along the way. Can they do it? Let's just see.

5 minutes on the clock please as we play ....."Beeeeat the Bus!"

Perp: "Let's go! The bus is going to be here in 5 minutes! Let's get the lead out people!"
1-4: No dissernable movement in the house.
Perp: "I said let's go!!!!!!"
1-4: No dissernable movement in the house.
Perp: "I'm going ahead out to the bus!"
1-4: No dissernable movement in the house.
Perp: "No computer priviledges on the weekend if you don't.....umph!"
2 of 4: "Mom, are you ok, why are you lieing on the floor like that! We're going to be late for school!"

at the bus stop, as the bus drives past the end of the street to circle around the block....

3 of 4: "Oh no! I forgot my toy!"
Perp: "you don't have time to get it"
3 of 4: "Waaaaahhhhh! But I want it!"
Perp: "Too bad, so sad. You'll need to get yourself together earlier next time."
3 of 4: "But I can beat the bus! I'll go reaaaallly quick!"
Perp: "You miss the bus and there'll be big trouble! And I mean BIG!"

Faster than the speed of light....well, maybe faster than the speed of the neighbours dog....well, on second thought maybe not. He thinks it's a game. He's gaining on her, he's getting closer...closer....closer! He jumps..... he scores!

He sets 3 off balance, she stumbles, she stumbles, she slows, she gets her legging, she's up and running again! OH! But wait! It seems she's wearing flip-flops! With socks no less....oooooh! She trips on a flip of the flop. Bad fashion choice for today 3! And shame on you Mom for letting her make that decision! Especially the socks! tsk, tsk!

Here comes some further interference from down the street! A neighbour just entered the course and is assisting 3 to get up and brushed off. Three is angry, screaming and appears in pain, but has enough stregnth to beat off the kindly, helpful, neighbour. Ooooh! Three! Should you be calling her that?!

Mom is standing, stunned, up the street! Is she going to make a move? She appears to be....yes, turning red! She is embarrased about the beating the neighbour is getting. She starts to run towards 3. She apologizes, she grabs three and hugs her....

Perp: "Suck it up princess! Get your butt in that house NOW and get that toy or else! BIG TROUBLE!"

3 of 4 takes off again, here comes dad to see what all the yelling is about....Mom shoots him a dirty look! He knows not to provide further interference. Mom heads back to the bus. It doesn't look good for the team. Mom's shoulders slump in defeat. She sits on the curb. The neighbours dog comes and gives her a full contact face wash! Ooooh! Salt in the wound puppy!

But wait! Here comes three of four, with a stellar smile....well, she's still sobbing slightly, but with a stellar smile! Oh no! Here also comes the bus! Is she going to make it?

YEA! She just makes the bus! (but only because the driver sees the scrapped, sobbing child and decides to slow to a fast crawl.) Mom tosses the child on the bus as it passes.....another successful game.

Ok Vicki, lets tell Perp what she has won.....today you have won an all expense paid trip to your house with you're little 4 year old neighbour! You and you're neighbour will have a fun filled morning cleaning fish tanks and playing on kids web sites. If you're really good, you get a coffee later in the afternoon. Congratulations Perp!

God Help us! It's only Monday!

This is from Deb at A Simple Country Girls Dream

Nicknames: no. I have no names with nick in them.

Favorite Drink: Non-fat, no whip, decaf, half sweet peppermint mocha latte. (deep breath) and make that a venti please.

Tattoos: yes. I accidentally stabbed a pencil into my finger in grade school and the mark still exists. It's a blueish colour.

Body Piercings: just my ears. Do fillings in my teeth count?

How much do you love you job 0-10:10 but don't tell the other half of we that.

Birthplace:The delivery room in the hospital. My Mom was there. I'm sure it was wonderful. The fact that she cried because I wasn't a boy doesn't bother me a bit. Sniff.

Favorite Vacation Spot:I don't go on vacation. Only Vicki does.

Stolen any traffic signs: No, they are usually attached to the other drivers and I'm not about to go and grab someones middle finger.

2 door or 4 door? My house has 2, car has 4 and bike has none.

Salad Dressing: No. I prefer to dress lawn ornamentation. Specifically gnomes.

Pie: Cow

Favorite Movie: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

Favorite Holiday: Christmas

Favorite Food: HAHA! I'll let you guess that one.

Favorite Day Of The Week: Thursday

Soap: (Now I just want to point out here that this says soap. Deb answered Tomato. ??? Does she like tomato soup or soap.) Baby's own. That's my favourite soap, not soup. I like tomato soup too....but not as a soap.

Toothpaste: No all my teeth are stuck in there on their own. I have known someone though who crazy glues his tooth in everytime it falls out. I expect he'll be dead soon.

What do you do to relax: sleep

Where do you see your self in 10 years: In a mental institution being visited by my four teenaged daughters and their biker gang, drug dealing boys friends and 15 kids. OK. Maybe they won't visit. That's just a pipe dream on my part.

What do you do when bored: I won't ever admit that I'm bored because something bad always happens when I do and I get reallllllly busy. Usually involves someone throwing up or bleeding, so I'm always entertained......whether or not I really am.

Now your turn.

After reading Rainy Pete's Unbalanced World, and following his links I used the "Voices of Many" translator set at buccaneer (pirate) to come up with the following adapation of an earlier post. It was worth it.

The other half o' we walked in the door yesterday afternoon after work. Two o' Four Greeted him with, "Hi Dad. How be yer game today." (As in golf.)

I think that I BE HAVIN' been a bit too understan'in' o' a wife. Altho he be indeed workin' yesterday, he does tend t' spend a lot o' time at the drivin' range an' at golf courses.

Befere ye say 'tis nay true Mr. Perp. Yer daughter just confirmed it fer me. Smirk.

On the opposite side o' thin's, one o' our Pastors came int' Chapters an' wasn't at all suprised t' see me sittin' on me butt in Starbucks sippin' on me Tall, non-fat, decaf, no whip, half sweet peppermint mocha latte.

If ye can't find me at home, just call thar or the fish store an' I'll get the message sometime durin' the day;-)

The "sippin' on me tall.....latte." particularily cracks me up in pirate. Sigh. I need a job or a hobby or something.

P.S. Thanks Pete! That was a lot of fun. I'll never read a news site the same way again.

I got a letter from the New Yorker magazine telling me that I had come in Fourth place in their photo captions contest. I was quite disappointed, because the first three picked ahead of me weren't even funny! It was because I was Canadian and they only accept submissions, funny or not, from Americans. That sucked big time,.............and then I woke up.

I heard my daughter rummaging around upstairs so, since I was awake I decided to go up and see what was the matter. She was feeding my best chocolate chips to my fish. Apparently they are only poisonous for dogs and they are really good for fish. Then she was feeding the big fat now hollow chocolate fish in my tank to Spotty, who was using the tank as his personal toilet. I did find this a bit disturbing.......and then I woke up.

I awoke to yet another lively game of beat the bus. Even though they moved the stop down the street, I have the advantage over "Speedy" and her haphazard ways. I have grown sticky pads on the fingers and soles of my feet. Like a tree frog. I can run, jump, grab the bus and hand on, banging on the windows until she stops................and then I woke up.

I was sitting in my Dentists chair getting frozen to the teeth (baha!) while he took out these horrendous drilling apparatus' and stretched my face like it was silly putty. My filling apparently needed to be replaced by a gargantuan one that felt like it took up my whole mouth. Although usually a gentle soft spoken fellow, he was laughing at jokes being told by other staff around the office and causing me great pain, the likes of which I have never felt before in his office, or in anyones office. Even during gum surgery I never felt this bad! I wish I could wake up. But this was not a dream. CRAP!

I like my dentist....lucky for him. If I didn't, I was thinking how much fun it might be to eat garlic bread and spaghetti and maybe a bit of curry before my appointment. Some navy beans might also be an appropriate choice to spice up the atmosphere. Then Que sera sera baby!

I mean, who in there right mind....or my insane one for that matter, would pay $269.00 to give them such agonizing pain. Don't answer that! It's just a rhetorical question.

If you'll excuse me, I sure could use a tylenol.

Dear Adventurer,

That chocolate didn't stand a chance! Not one of the bars made it home. That was the best tasting stuff I've had in a long, long time! At least since the last Kaluha cake you sent over.

I feel now that fall approaches, it's time to go and make fun of lawn ornamentation again before the snow hits. Our regulars are going to feel rejected if we don't at least pay a halloween visit.

Perpetual Chocoholic

...and I bet you thought I wouldn't post a clearer view Anon;-)
I feel like I'm the photographer for "Play Rat" magazine.

Spotty "Potster" the Rat

Did I lie?

Note: No rats were harmed in the taking of this picture. Humiliated and a little annoyed, but not harmed.

The other half of we walked in the door yesterday afternoon after work. Two of Four Greeted him with, "Hi Dad. How was your game today." (As in golf.)

I think that I've been a bit too understanding of a wife. Although he was indeed working yesterday, he does tend to spend a lot of time at the driving range and at golf courses.

Before you say it's not true Mr. Perp. Your daughter just confirmed it for me. Smirk.

On the opposite side of things, one of our Pastors came into Chapters and wasn't at all suprised to see me sitting on my butt in Starbucks sipping on my Tall, non-fat, decaf, no whip, half sweet peppermint mocha latte. If you can't find me at home, just call there or the fish store and I'll get the message sometime during the day;-)

Ahh, the innocence of a child. This masterpiece was an bold attempt at a lifelike drawing of Three of Four's pet rat "Spotty." Three is seven years old. Spotty is 5 months old and is a male. Obviously.

I explained to Three that when you draw a portrait, you need to keep your audience in mind....mainly her three sisters and parents, and that it didn't need to be quite so anatomically correct. She told me it wasn't. She felt her drawing didn't truely reflect the true likeness of his......boys. They are bigger. She is right. They are about a third of his total body size. They put most men to shame and make women blush.

So here he is in all of his glory, standing up on his hind legs, sending you all a hug.

Let the Parade Begin

I generally try to get to bed by midnight. Ok, actually 1am, but I was good on this particular night. Just when I was starting to settle two, almost 11 years old, gigglers (only one was mine) called me to the room with a very grave concern.

"We hear scratching coming from the wall! Then a thump, thump, thump, then more scratching!" Says one.
"The 'Extra child' thinks it might be a ghost." says One of Four while laughing nervously.

"hmmm. Considering that Spotty the Rat lives in his cage against the wall you are talking about, I'm quite sure that it is him you are hearing." I reply.
"But if you are really worried, and you think that it IS a ghost and you see it coming for you, just yell out "Whoooowaaaah!" and that'll take care of it for you. At least, that what works for me." I leave behind two giggling pre-teens.

Finally sleep catches up to me when I hear a loud bang. Three of Four jumping down from her bunk to go to the little ladies room. I fall back asleep.

"Psssst. Psssst." I hear a leak in a tire somewhere I say to my husband.
"No, it's me (1 of 4.....yet again). Three of Four went to the toilet about 20 minutes ago and didn't go back to her room. 'Extra' and I went to check up on her and she's asleep on the toilet." She says her voice broken intermittently by hysterical laughing.

"Gee Three. I didn't know toilet paper holders made good pillows too!" I sighed as she grumbled and shot me a hateful look as I awoke her and escorted her back to her room. Getting her there was one ordeal. Getting her into a high bunk was yet another. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't fun.

Once again, sleep manages to find me despite my frequent changes of address on this night. Unfortunately, they must feel I'm ready for yet another rude awakening, despite my thinking I may actually be able to live in my dream land for a while.

"Mom," says Two of Four quite firmly, not to be left out of this evenings events, "can I invite a friend over too?!"
"You mean now, at 3:10 in the morning?" I reply disbelievingly.
"Oh. Maybe now wouldn't be good." she mumbles, seemingly shocked by the time.
"Can I tomorrow then?" She asks sheepishly.
"Two! " I will not have a discussion about social invitations at this time of the night! GO TO BED!

God bless little Four of Four. The one that usually wakens me with nightmares, lonelyness, or requests manages to sleep through the night. That's ok though. Her sisters and friend more than made up for her one night off!!!

By the way. Mr. P. tells me I should go to bed earlier then I won't be so tired all of the time. Honestly. Would it really matter? It's just that much more time that someone would have to wake me up.

It was late. I decided to check the locks before retiring to bed for the evening. I casually walk over to the door of my apartment, sure that it must be locked, since I am the only one living there. Darn! It's unlocked. It's that crazy woman again leaving the door unlocked when she comes in. It's just then that she re-enters the apartment. Rushed and dressed to the teeth for an outting with....an ostrich perhaps. Her feather boa is full, fabulous and definately out of style.

I have never actually met her before, and am a little taken aback by her flamboyant appearance. None the less, I give her heck for leaving the apartment door unlocked. "It's not safe you know!" I chide her. Annoyed with myself for allowing her to have a key.

She seems unconcerned and goes on with her business. The tramp!

I walk down the hall towards the bedroom. It's dimly lit. The only light is provided by God's own moon. The windowless hallway is short and it's but a few steps to the comfort of cool sheets, warm blankets and a soft pillow. Perfect peace and happy slumber.

Unfortunately, Two other individuals have other plans for me. They must have let themselves in through the unlocked door.
"Blasted woman!" I say as I see their wispy figures materialize before me. Ghosts.

"Wooooooo! We're here to get you Sandi." Says the first.
The second pops in unceremoniously.

I am frightend at first, but then just annoyed that they are standing between me and my cozy bed. I know there is no polite request that will assure their departure. One must be firm when dealing with the spirit world.

"WWWWUUUUAAAAAH!" I scream as loud as humanly possible. It's drastic, but the only chance I have to rid myself of my unwanted visitors is to scare them away.

"Shhhh. It's ok dear! It's ok. Shhhh." I hear as I feel a gentle pat on my arm. I awaken.

"Did I just scream out loud?" I say unbelievingly
"Yes!" The other half of we replies, "and you just about gave me a heart attack you screamed so loudly!"

We settle back, letting sleep again overcome us. Well, one of us does. I get a bad case of the giggles. Actually, it starts off as giggling and then turns into hysterical belly laughing and snorting. Enough to shake the bed.

Twenty minutes later, after I start to come down from my happy high, I tell the Mr. that, "at least I'm not my father!"

One night while entwined in his sheets, feeling he is being restrained by an angry assailant, he uses his best kick boxing and karate moves to fight and break free. My mother was not a happy woman that night.

Not to be undone, my mother, also being attacked by unrelenting night time assailants, brings her leg back to get a full kick at her ghostly enemy. My father finished his sleep in the other room.

I'm not sure why my family is plagued by these types of dreams, which tend to end in our partners being startled, bruised, or just plain sleep deprived, but gosh....they sure are fun!

I fear it's too late my friends. While shopping at a quirky, up-scale little toy store yesterday I came across Gnome cinnamon flavoured gum. After my initial shock wore off I noticed the gnome lip balm hanging from a rack above. Where is this world going to.

I'm not sure, as shocking as the gnome products were, how I felt about the "Next to the Last Supper" Jesus Gum, and "Jesus Rocks" candy. Something just seemed so wrong about them!

Anyhow, everywhere I go gnomes seem to be invading my space. I'm completely sick of talking about them, but can't get away from them. Sadly, as much as I regret the passing of summer, the one thing to look forward to is that there will be few gnomes dotting the landscape during a good Canadian winter. At least here in my city. If you are a resident of a other certain city. I'm not mentioning any names Toronto, they need to call the army in to help when you get a snow storm. Wimps!

Now onto the really exciting and important business. Only two more weeks to school! Yeah baby!!!!!!!

Gno! Say It Ain't So!

It was a substitute for our missed Thursday evening romps through the neighbourhood, coffee in tow. There was a couple of weeks worth of conversation to make up for. News was exchanged.

A strange thing happens when you fall out of a regular routine for a time. Muscles take offence to being fired up after a vacation. Coffee shops close earlier than was previously the norm. The long and short of it is that we landed up back in the yard of adventures abode.

We had been coming to the end of a refreshingly cleansing discussion. Purging all of the anxieties of the past weeks under the bright light of a 3/4 moon. The grass felt greener in her garden. The air cool, the chairs more comfortable. The neighbours more interesting than the walker clad ones inhabiting mine. The soft bubbling from the koi pond in the background. Perfect peace! And then I saw IT!

Much to my alarm, out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a flash of red. Normally under these circumstances I would feign ignorance to the offending creature, but unfortunately I stopped mid sentence and froze. Like a tongue on an icy door handle on a cold winters day (yes, I have unfortunately tried this. As a child of course!)

"Oh gno! You have.....a gnome." I mutter as if in doing so quietly it won't take notice of my knowledge of it's presence in the yard.

"Yes, but it's not the other kind." she calmly replies.

I'm not sure I know what she meant by "the other kind." I believe she may have been referring to the fact that it was not an actual forest gnome. I couldn't ask for an explanation. Much to my chagrin, one of my most favourite safe and happy places had been assimilated by them.

Sadly my friends, I have to report that Adventurer, a previously brave mocker of lawn ornamentation, is in posession of a lawn gnome. Or actually....a lawn gnome has taken possession of her family.

Be afraid.....be VERY afraid. You may be next!

Friday Funnies on Saturday

I was quite annoyed to find out that the usual radio talk show that I listen to late week night evenings had been replaced by "The X Zone" while the regular host was vacationing.

Aliens, Big Foot, conspiracy theories and any other wackiness you can think of is the basis for this show. Well guess what was on the other night!
I was just about to turn off the radio when I heard a guest discussing forest gnomes. Apparently, he had seen them himself! A large adult female and younger child gnome frolicing along the edge of a wooded area. I have just one question.

WHAT THE HECK IS A FOREST GNOME!? And do they look like the one planted in the front garden of my home? Beware! Gnomes are everywhere!

Enough with the serious and on to the silly. This was e-mailed to me by a neighbour. Let's call her White Mocha after a favourite Starbucks treat.

TEACHER: Maria, go to the map and find North America.
MARIA: Here it is.
TEACHER: Correct. Now class, who discovered America?
CLASS: Maria.
____________________________________

TEACHER: John, why are you doing your math multiplication on the floor?
JOHN: You told me to do it without using tables. __________________________________________

TEACHER: Glenn, how do you spell "crocodile?"
GLENN: K-R-O-K-O-D-I-A-L"
TEACHER: No, that's wrong
GLENN: Maybe it is wrong, but you asked me how I spell it. ____________________________________________

TEACHER: Donald, what is the chemical formula for water? DONALD: H I J K L M N O.
TEACHER: What are you talking about?
DONALD: Yesterday you said it's H to O. __________________________________

TEACHER: Winnie, name one important thing we have today that we didn't have ten years ago.
WINNIE: Me! __________________________________________

TEACHER: Glen, why do you always get so dirty?
GLEN: Well, I'm a lot closer to the ground than you are._______________________________________

TEACHER: Millie, give me a sentence starting with "I."
MILLIE: I is...
TEACHER: No, Millie..... Always say, "I am."
MILLIE: All right... "I am the ninth letter of the alphabet." _________________________________

TEACHER: George Washington not only chopped down his father's cherry tree, but also admitted it. Now, Louie, do you know why his father didn't punish him?
LOUIS: Because George still had the ax in his hand. ______________________________________

TEACHER: Now, Simon, tell me frankly, do you say prayers before eating?
SIMON: No sir, I don't have to, my Mom is a good cook. ______________________________

TEACHER: Clyde, your composition on "My Dog" is exactly the same as your brother's. Did you copy his?
CLYDE: No, teacher, it's the same dog. ___________________________________

TEACHER: Harold, what do you call a person who keeps on talking when people are no longer interested?
HAROLD: A teacher.

Only three more weeks until school starts. This year I have to walk down the street to the "New and improved" bus stop. It should be interesting.

The Other Use for Gnomes

They aren't just for decorating any more folks!

I picked up "Velocity" by Dean Koontz and read the following.....

.....Ned Pearsall raised a toast to his deceased neighbor, Henry Friddle, whose death greatly pleased him.
Henry had been killed by a garden gnome. He had fallen off the roof of his two-story house, onto that cheerful-looking figure. The gnome was made of concrete. Henry wasn't.

You were all right! Lawn gnomes are evil! And Mr. Koontz is under their control. He's threatening us with death by lawn gnome. It's a warning to us all!

Who woulda thunk they'd make such good weapons too! Well....aside from many of you who tried to warn me of their evilness!

Your Friday Giggle

I know, I know. It's not Friday. It just feels that way. It's 48 degrees up here today with the humidity....yes, celcius. Which I am told by the radio announcer is 118 F. So we need something to laugh about. It's also the start of Mr. P.'s holidays. (And Vicki's, she's just returned from South Carolina and was too tired to type.) A neighbour sent me these and they were funny .... for a change.

JOKES TO OFFEND EVERYONE

What do you call two Mexicans playing basketball?
Juan on Juan

What is the difference between a Harley and a Hoover?
The position of the dirt bag.

Why is divorce so expensive?
Because it's worth it.

What do you see when the Pillsbury Dough Boy bends over?
Doughnuts

What do you call a smart blonde?
A golden retriever.

What do attorneys use for birth control?
Their personalities.

What's the difference between a girlfriend and wife?
10 years and 45 lbs

What's the difference between a boyfriend and husband?
45 minutes

What's the fastest way to a man's heart?
Through his chest with a sharp knife.

Why do men want to marry virgins?
They can't stand criticism.

Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?
Because those men already have boyfriends.

What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog?
After a year, the dog is still excited to see you

Why do men chase women they have no intention of marrying?
The same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving.

Why don't bunnies make noise when they have sex?
Because they have cotton balls.

What's the difference between a porcupine and BMW?
A porcupine has the pricks on the outside.

What did the blonde say when she found out she was pregnant?
"Are you sure it's mine?"

Why does Mike Tyson cry during sex?
Mace will do that to you.

Why did OJ Simpson want to move to West Virginia ?
Everyone has the same DNA.

Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?
Breasts don't have eyes.

Where does an Irish family go on vacation?
A different bar.

Did you hear about the Chinese couple that had a blond baby?
They named him "Sum Ting Wong".

What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the other?
A speech impediment.

What's the difference between a southern zoo and a northern zoo?
A southern zoo has a description of the animal on the front of the cage along with... "a recipe".

How do you get a sweet 80-year-old lady to say the F word?Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell *BINGO*!

What's the difference between a northern fairytale and a southern fairytale?
A northern fairytale begins "Once upon a time ..." -A southern fairytale begins"Y'all ain't gonna believe this s**t....

Why is there no Disneyland in Japan?
No one's tall enough to go on the good rides

Believe it or not I did edit out a few of the more.....colourful ones!

Happy Friday!