Happy Christmas and New Year's

what an insane Christmas.

the plan:
-take it easy!
what actually happened:
-chaos

So rockstar hubby's step-dad went in for knee surgery around december 16th. things were going well until the 23rd. He woke up in the middle of the night and was paralyzed from his neck down. He went to the hospital, then another hospital. We waited anxiously to hear what was going on. They thought he might have spinal meningitis blah blah. Immediately we were praying (of course) and wondering what the future would bring. Would we need to sell the house and move in together to take care of him? Would he be able to work again? Where would we move to? What would this mean? Etc.
Christmas eve morning rsh's mom called and asked if we could drive out to her house and pick up the 25lb turkey sitting in her garage and would we please host Christmas dinner? Sure we would. Then we got to spend an awesome lunch with friends of ours that we 'tricked' into having a little party so we had somewhere to go. It was a lovely time and at 3 we went to my parents. Which of course was a tad chaotic. We got home at 9, put the gaffer to bed and sat down to two and a half hours of putting together the Playmobile honkin knight's castle. We got to bed at midnight and at 7am I was in the kitchen preparing stuffing and getting the bird in the oven. After opening prezzies (my hubby is so good to me) I cooked. And cooked, and cooked and cooked. RSH's family came over and we had a lovely time eating. Well, they did. I cleaned and cooked and cleaned and washed and put things away. But it was nice.
Boxing day involved nothing. Which was kind of nice because we didn't have plans, but we sat at home doing pretty much nothing. Then RSH had to work the evening shift so I found myself wandering around aimlessly, wondering what to do. The tv won my attention.

So now, the eve on New Year's, we find ourselves with a quiet night and wine to look forward to. Step-dad has been moved home with an iv of anitbiotics which follows him around and strict instructions not to visit until next week. So today I will relish my writing time at coffee shop. If I can tear myself away from the internet...

Another reason I love Rockstar Hubby

He's building a snowfort for the gaffer and himself to play in. Right in the circle of our street.

Merry Christmas

I know.
It's been too long.
I'm actually surprised myself at how long it's been since I've been here. It's not like my life has not been interesting or challenging. It just never occured to me to blog about it. So here goes. In short form. Or point form. Some kind of form.

-I've been exhausted for about 5 weeks. The gaffer is having nightmares again. But this time he climbs out of bed and runs into my room, climbing into bed. I'm trying not to let this become a pattern. I don't want him sleeping with us. I don't sleep when he's in our bed. He moves too much. But right now, starting last night, I let him stay for an hour. And then instead of having his usual 5 nightmares, he had two. But he moved the entire time he was in bed. I'm discovering that I no longer sleep between the hours of 1-4am. It's starting to take its toll. I crave caffeine now.
-Christmas is coming! yay! Presents are wrapped, I'm going to bake a birthday cake for Jesus to bring to my parents, my brother may not show up (that's fine)and I have a lovely Christmas eve lunch with our good friends.
-I bought rockstar hubby that remote control flying helicopter. You know the one. Not the cheap 20$ one, but the 'mosquito' one where it requires 6 C batteries and a 9 volt. I bought it. I must be losing my mind. but he's going to love it.
-update on Jackson and His Great-Aunt Harriett. I don't believe in jinxing anything, but I haven't mentionned anything because I don't want to believe it to be true. Because if it doesn't happen, I know I'll be devastated (oh the pains of being a drama queen!). But an aquisitions editor for a lovely company sent me an e-mail and told me she liked the book and that it wasn't something they normally publish but she wants to see if there's room for it. She's meeting with the publishing crew after Christmas. Yes, I'm losing my mind. But the best part (apart from possibly being published) is that she wrote me the most amazing letter. She wrote that I was like 'Lemony Snickett without the gloom'. How's that for a compliment? And she said I had a unique voice...with potential. wow. Even if I don't get published, that was the nicest letter I've ever received. Yes I will be framing it.
-we're going away in four weeks. I can't wait. I just don't know where we're going yet. We're somewhat limited as it ain't that warm in Cuba and DR in January. So we've got Jamaica (muchos denaros) or Mexico. but if we fly to Mexico, that's about 5 hours of flying and I will need to be put to sleep or in first class so I don't yak all over everyone. I hate flying. Why does everywhere lovely have to be so frickin' far away? Why can't I just find a place where we will get an exclusively fabulous room with a fabulous beach with business class flying for under twelve hundred? Hm..
-might be going to Texas in February with Disaster Relief team. Am having serious doubts as to leaving gaffer alone for another week, four weeks after vacation. Is my heart worrying too much?

ok, i have to write now.

what's in a name?

Well, it was six days late.

I'm never late.

It freaked me out completely.

I had nights of glowing pleasure as I imagined a little something growing in my belly and dreamed up names of 'Nina', 'Joon', and 'Raven'.

I had nights of waking up in terror, pleading to God not to let me be pregnant.

And now it's here.


Probably a good thing. Someone would have me put to sleep if I named my child one of those names.

and on a more serious note...

I seem to be nesting.

I wouldn't even know what that was, except when I was very, very, very, re: very pregnant, I nested.

It started off with bringing the Christmas village out and putting it on the fireplace mantle (with the huge mirrors over the fireplace, it looks amazing). And then I sent rockstar hubby out to put up the lights on the house (note: they need to be fixed. They are all crooked and silly-like and I'm embarassed to turn them on as I am the daughter of Clark W. Griswald. No, I'm serious. You have to meet my dad.)then I 'made' a Christmas wreath which doesn't do it for me, so it's over the fireplace too.
But then I found my chest of magazines. The gaffer immediately announced it his 'treasure chest' and I emptied it. I organized my 'Cooking Light' from 'Bon Appetit'. And realized I am seriously in back-order reading denial. So I placed them in my lovely bookcase. But then I had to organize my books in the bookcase. And then I had to empty the other bookcase so the first would look full. And now I have an empty bookcase. While I have so many more books downstairs, I wouldn't necessarily bring them up because I don't read them often and I can't bring myself to get rid of them. So I brought up the videos. All of them. And then I realized how hideous it looked to have a gray bookcase full of VHS (you can buy them cheap!) so I put up pictures and frames in front of them. And then I had to move the couch. And then I started throwing things out. Can I just say it's 8:23pm and I started at 3:30? I can't stop. I ate supper, but I ate it too fast so now I'm running around and some kind of weird adrenaline with my tummy burping up icky green peppers (bloody sauce).

And then I found the bag.

The plastic Walmart bag that my friend had given me because she was finished with using the gaffer's newborn clothes.

The smell hit me like a tidal wave.

Baby smell.

I lovingly pulled out each outfit, did up all the buttons and snaps very carefully, and then held them to my face as I breathed deeply. I could remember the smell of my baby, when he was oh-so-young and I was so-out-of-my-mind with exhaustion. And as I sniffed slowly, remembering, my uterus ached. I unrolled the little sockies (yes I know they are 'socks' but you can't call them anything else when they are that little) and stuck my fingers inside. I never put socks on the gaffer. I was always too busy smelling his feet.

And it made me think.

How I'm 'due' for that time in 4ish days. But my breasts don't ache. And I count back to fertility time and we had done it twice. I remember praying that night, "Please God, don't let me be pregnant. I don't want a baby. I've changed my mind. But Your will, of course."

And here I am sniffing socks.

Last week, rsh and I went to a Christmas party and I got to talk to a casual friend of mine. She has 4 kids. She gets pregnant by just looking at her husband. I asked if she was having more. She tossed her beautiful head back, laughing out loud saying, "Of course! And what about you?"
I explained the situation.
Of course she laughed and told me that as 'soon as you stop trying, your body relaxes and it'll happen more easily'.
I wanted to slap her. And I love her. A lot. But I wanted to slap her.

I very much dislike smug women. I've always told myself if I ever have another child, I would never, ever say to a woman, 'oh just relax! blah blah'. My body, my state of relaxation/hornyness(sp?)/excitement/exhaustion has nothing to do with anything. It's all God's will. And that's what I want. His will.

But right now, in the dark of my dining room, the faint glow of the living room calling me back to be cleaned some more, right now, where no one can see me, my heart aches.

Dare I say it?

I want a baby.

Things you only see at Christmas time

Without stating the obvious lights, trees etc...

-large Tiger head on a fleece blanket
-coin distributors (gee I wish I had one of those!)
-antler headbands (who doesn't own one of those?)
-egg nog (which replaces lemonade. good luck getting a green tea lemonade)
-45 different kinds of Lindt chocolate
-animal head slippers
-fruitcake
-those blanket/housecoats for women who sit on the couch all day in their nightgowns and complain they're cold
-jewellery with tweety bird heads
-polyester sweaters with embroidered cats
-sweatshirts with wolves or loons (oh wait, that's Northern Reflections)
-a globe in a swivel stand that has a secret compartment for booze
-very large jewellery armoires (for all those tweety bird earrings and necklaces you collect)
-boardgames you've been searching for over the entire year
-8,000 different kinds of cheeses (but they are mostly goat's cheese or brie mixed with 1,000 different herbs ie goat's cheese with parsley, goat's cheese with parsley and garlic, goat's cheese with parsley and garlic and paprika, goat's cheese with parsley and garlic but in a red container...)
-large red bows for the front of your car
-large singing/rotating/dancing santa claus' that make you crap your pants when they start up as you walk by
-nuts, nuts and more nuts. And of course they haven't come up with a decent nutcracker yet unless you're popeye
-large fluffy dogs in different colours for only $9.99 (we have three)
-hot pink Barbie/Dora/Princess chairs for little girls (only $49.99!)
-singing/twinkling/vibrating - socks/ties/pins
-bright red sweaters with fake white lace around the colour that grandma's wear only one day a year
-hand cutters that cut plastic for all the plastic containers on all the packages you buy
-scented pinecones
-advent calenders with cheap chocolate
-mounds of nail polish/emery board packages
-cheap bbq utensil kits

ah well...hopefully I'll only receive one of the above...

gluttony at its worst

in 3.5 hours i've eaten:
-some chips and dip
-three chicken strips and two handfuls of carrots
-7 sugar cookies (homemade last night)
-half a chocolate bar
-vanilla yogurt with granola
-piece of toast with peanut butter

I must be pregnant.




HAH!!!

secrets i keep

Ok, so i drove all the way to value village today to use my 'Boo Bucks' that I got in october. this meant i had ten bucks to spend. no snow storm was going to keep me home.
i went in, toured around and filled my cart.

and then i started sneezing.

a lot.

and sniffling. and crying with itchy eyes.

i'm not allergic to anything. but i couldn't figure this out. am i sick again? my nose itched, causing it to run and sneeze again, my eyes itched which leaked, thank goodness i left the mascara at home.

so i went to the washroom and grabbed some toilet paper to blow.

no, they don't use charmin. no they don't use cottonelle 20 ply that will not only caress my butt hole, but also caress my nose.
so i blew into hay and it didnt' do any good.
so i just kept sniffing and snorting and rubbing and wiping.

i decided to try on the clothes and just get out of there.

and i sneezed more.

with no kleenex.

i took off my sock. and yes, i blew my nose into it. can i just say that my sock is 100% super soft cotton? it felt lovely on my nose. and then i put my sock back on and jammed into my shoe.

and then i sneezed again.

i eyed the clothing sitting there. i felt all the fabric.

i found a hideous blue t-shirt (why did i pick it?) and felt it's downy-cottoness. it was worth 8$. surely no one would buy this. would they?

why am i attracting these freaks?

rant-time:

Ok, seriously, what is it with men who stretch?

I'm already avoiding weird-o guy whose pants are too tight and wears ugly socks and never shaves his face. Who is always yelling on his blackberry about houses and talking to people like they are idiots and he's always stretching. You know that guy-stretch? Where they stand up and groan a lot like they hadn't peed in a long time? And then he lifts his arms waaay up in the air and stretches and then his shirt goes up and I am exposed to brown-y skin with a lot of hair and black lint in his bellybutton. And it's like I'm supposed to swoon or something?

Ok, so I've been avoiding him. Wouldn't you?

So now there's a new guy. Who now joins me at MY writing table at Starbucks and he always sits right across from me so now I make sure my headphones are in and my music is loud so that when he talks to me, I can ignore him. Pretend I can't hear him although I'm not really pretending because all I can hear is the bass of Nine Inch Nails (why oh why did you evolve Trent? You're so sucky now!)I've already had a quick conversation with him, when he decided to ask me what I was doing. Writing. Hello???
So this guy is older, which is a tad creepy, and he doesn't shave either, a bit more creepy, and he's always STRETCHING! Makes this loud groaning noise like you make after a really great fart, (don't lie, I know you do it too) and stretches his arms up, making a big show of 'look at me stretch!'

Why? Why do men do that? I even got rockstar hubby doing it the other day, his arms way up in the air, grunting like a pig in heat (not that I've ever heard one) his shirt slowly going up and made him stop by punching him in his rockhard 8 pack abs (yes, yes, I know you're fit, now shut up about it). Then we launched into the whole 'why do men stretch and groan' conversation, ie me ranting and him watching CSI over my head and nodding in the right places. He finished my ranting by telling me that maybe the men were trying to get my attention because I was so hot.

Well, he did shut me up. I think I'm catching on though. I wanted to talk about Grey's Anatomy and he started telling me how pretty my hair was. I stopped talking. Hm...

ballet, toronto, atwood and shakespeare

I feel guilty about writing a funny blog today because of yesterday's pain. As an update, I met with her yesterday and told her about a great counsellor. And she was all for seeing them. And then at the last second, she backed out. I guess she's not ready. And I don't know what to say. Except, I'm here for you.

So tuesday night was ballet night. I love ballet night. I hate getting ready and driving there because I'd rather stay at home and snuggle with my family, but I went after missing three sessions, due to the teacher being sick, me being sick and the gaffer having issues.
There was only three of us that night, which is fine. One girl is from Toronto and she's quite the character. When she first showed up she turned to me and started telling me about an article in the Globe and Mail about Margaret Atwood and then she started defending her work and she got all hot and bothered. And as I'm looking at her smiling, I'm thinking:
-why are you talking to me about Atwood?
-I don't like Atwood. I don't understand why she writes. It's so pompous and annoying and she puts in things that are ridiculous.
-Why are you getting all excited?
-Do I look like I read the Globe and Mail? (is that a compliment?)
-Why is she still talking to me?
-And why is she wearing the full pink ballerina tights and shoes and flowy skirt and why is her make up so dark?
-Why am I still smiling?
-Why am I not arguing how crappy Atwood is?

(yes I know, I'm about to castrated from society for not liking Atwood because 1) she's a writer and 2) she's Canadian.
I don't care if people are from Canada. I'm not going to a movie, a concert, read a book because someone is Canadian. Don't even get me started on Jann Arden. I have a few choice words for her. But that's another story.
Can I also say, as a writer, and yes I classify myself as one even though I haven't published anything professionally YET, I don't like Shakespeare. I think I'm in trouble on that one and I think B and Zuzu are just going to have to agree to disagree with me. Why don't I like him? Just one reason. His characters irritate me. No seriously! The women are all cowards, (Oh I cant' tell him how I feel!) they are depressing (why won't he pay attention to me? Maybe I should just kill myself!)The men are either sexually charged up and need to make dumb comments about everything or they are idiots! The ONLY character I even remotely could appreciate, was Mercutio from Romeo and Juliet. Sure he was a jokester and a bit of an a$$, but his final line, "A plague on both your houses!" meant he finally got it! That he was wasting his pride on fighting a war with another family that he didn't even CARE about, that he realized that Romeo was an idiotic moony teenager who couldn't make up his mind on what he wanted, and at that moment, when he was stabbed, he just realized that his life was WASTED! A plague on both your houses! May both families suffer because I am about to die for nothing! Nothing of importance! The only thing I'll be remembered for is about having humour, that I was secretly in love with Romeo so that must be the reason I put up with his moods, (or maybe it was because Romeo had money?)I used to be a good swordsman but now I'm not because I lost, and I made good hot buttered toast! He realized his life was a waste! No one else did! Ok, I'd better shut up here, because I am ranting and given my two buddies are 'in luuurve' with Will, they may send me hate mail. And that's not the point.
What was I talking about?
Oh yes, ballet.

So the two ladies there, we are missing two as well, are chatting. For some reason I'm the only one married and with a child in this group. Did I mention i'm the only one over 30? Anyways, they are talking about this website for singles. I won't mention it because I don't want to give them credit for anything. Anyways, one of the girls, we'll call E, met two guys on this site and is apparently 'seeing' one of them. So Ms. Toronto decides to try it out. She now has a stalker. He found out her facebook, her msn and her work directory and keeps harassing her. Note to the notsowise. DON'T use your real name!!! duh!
Anyways, so we're bending and stretching and I think, hey, i'll go on the other side of the bar today because my right side is waaay more flexible and whatnot. Wow, was that hard! anyways, so i'm bending my back in ways i never knew possible (and once i feel better, i'll show rockstar hubby my new moves), but then she (the teacher) has us doing jumps. You start in first position, hands behind back like chickens (except it's a french word. a la poulet?) and you jump up into the air as high as you can and land in second, toes pointed the whole time and you must land gracefully. That worked for two jumps. Until I peed myself. Oh Kegel's! You've failed me again! So now I'm so embarassed by this dark stain (not huge but I could see it in the mirror, If I looked hard enough) and I start to laugh. Big mistake. I start landing harder like an elephant (and I just want to point out that I don't 'look' like an elephant)and I start laughing harder because I look ridiculous and I pee a little more. So I stop.
So now my back is sore, my butt has a cramp from some kind of jete-ing behing my back (I have no friggin' idea what it's called - but you know that butt cramp you get when you're...getting it on? same spot) so i'm laughing even harder, and now I have pee on my tights.

A story

Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl.

And this beautiful girl had a terrible secret.
Her father was psychotic.
When the girl gave her life to God at her boarding house school, he beat her.
When the girl fell in love at 16, her father locked her up in her house and threated to kill her.
But love knows no bounds, and that girl climbed out of her fortress window, and ran away to be with her love.
This beautiful girl moved in with her older boyfriend and they both worked full-time to pay their bills.
Two years later, they were married.
Her husband announced they were moving to Canada. So she went, begrudgingly.
She got a job within the first two weeks as a greeting hostess. She sucked it up for two years.
She got another job, and another job and another job and another job.
Where was her happiness?
And where was her love?
Her husband had failed. Her husband had a dark secret.
He liked to drink.
And he like to hit her when he drank.
A lot.
She tried to escape.
He hit her.
She tried to kill herself.
She was sent to a shrink.
Eight years later she has two beautiful children, and he still drinks.

And as she talks to me, with quiet sad eyes, she asks why her life has amounted to nothing.
I can't tell her she has a husband who loves her. I tell her her life has amounted to two beautiful children. She wonders if she can keep them safe.

But she won't leave him. And she won't take the phone from me as I hot dial the interval house.
I show her a bedroom waiting for her and her family.
And then she goes home.

I can't do a damn thing until she lets me.
So instead, I just pray.
I pray for her.
And I pray for him.
And I pray for the clenching in my stomach to go away.

A new job

So rockstar hubby has been run off his butt with tree jobs. Which is awesome. But, he's soo busy that he doesn't have time to look at all the tree jobs. Which brings moi into the question. I go look at them, talk to the homeowner if needed, take pictures and then show rsh. And if we get the job, I get 25$. Yay. I'm a part-time worker! With benefits!

It's an unusually warm day today. 17C on November 4th. How bizarre. Especially since about 4 days ago it was -5C. And a week ago we had a huge snowstorm/windstorm which knocked down some trees(goodie for us!) so I can't complain.

My birthday was yesterday. I'm now 35. I think that's a marvelous age. I don't mind getting older at all. Granted, I read a quick article yesterday about some kind of miracle skin cream (which I ignored) but they said it gets rid of 'crepe-ey skin around your decollatage'. What? I'm going to get weird skin on my boobs? Interesting. Will it look like crepe paper? Or will it just look like crepes in which I will need to add some strawberries and whip cream. Er...we won't go there.

So now comes the big reflection of the year. Which I do every year. So let's break it down.
This past year I have:

-really enjoyed my friendship with the gaffer. this kid kills me he's so funny. today there was a worship song on CHRI and they were singing, 'there's no God like Jehovah' and he laughed and said, 'they're singing the chihuahua song!'.
-i like the fact the my two bestest friends are my hubby and the gaffer
-i ran another City Chase. And failed miserably. i mean, i finished, but that was not my goal. i wanted to win this stupid thing. wanted to be better than 5th. but we weren't.
-i finished my book.
-i attended a writer's conference and despite my knee-knocking and sweating like a pig, i approached 7 people about my book. three bit. i'm so proud of me. and i met two fabulous people. one, an author whom you can read about at fictionmatters.blogspot.com and an editor of a fabulous publishing company which i'm hoping will pick up my book but even if they don't i still admire and like him a lot because he's goofy and his blog is thesearebooks.blogspot.com
-i decided to start another book
-i healed. a lot.
-i don't need to control as much. and when i get controlling, i realize it and tell myself to knock it off
-i found a fabulous new restaurant in which i frequent and am known my name now
-i love my rockstar hubby even more
-i battled emotionally about having another child. i think the answer is no. but you never know
-i planned a bunch of events at our church and they all went fabulously
-i like me

ok, that's enough sentimental crap.
here's a video that kills me.



I don't know how to upload videos. or links apparently. maybe next year

Not a lot going on

Oof.
Ok, I really haven't written in awhile. You forget how easy it is not to blog. Maybe I've been too busy? Maybe I've had nothing to say? I don't know.
I almost came downstairs last night to do some blogging. For some unknown reason, I woke up at 3. Wide awake. Didn't fall back asleep until 5. I kept thinking. And not even of important things, which is quite sad. Did I have a babysitter for this day? Did I have something to wear? Are we going out too much next week? Etc. Sad. I tried praying for awhile, but my brain kept slipping into weirdness. And I kept having to sneeze. So that didn't help.
Now it's 7:30 and I'm struggling to stay awake. Supposed to go to the gym today but my house is a disaster. And I'm having company for supper.
Wow. This blog is boring.
I've been doing quite a bit of researching into my own life for the next book(s). I'm kicking myself now for having thrown out my journals 4 years ago. I did so because I didn't want to have the reminders. And now I'm ready to remember. But I did find an old book of quotes I collected and am remembering why that one and what I was thinking. And I'm going through an old book of poems. So I'm remembering a lot. And I'm not slipping into any icky zones without being able to come out. I'm copying old cd's onto my laptop to bring me back there. Music always reminds me of things.
Gaffer is really enjoying school. I love watching him write his name. Rockstar hubby is insanely busy with tree work. And I'm not complaining!

second thoughts, my brain is too tired

grrr...
i'm thinking too much. i hate it when i think too much because then i second guess myself. i've written in large letters, 'just write'. grrr...grr....grr.....

conversations with my gaffer and God

gaffer: Mommy, I want to bring my real Pirate Treasure Chest
me: what are you talking about?
g: to heaven. You said, God had toys for me to play with in heaven.
me: yeah.
g: but I want to bring my own Pirate Treasure chest
me: why don't you ask God?
g: (eyes closed tightly) God, can i...
me: may I
g: may I bring my Pirate Treasure Chest to heaven?
pause
me: what did God say?
g: He said yes.
me: did you say thank you?
g: thank you God. (pause) He said 'you're welcome'.

La-la-la

I'm bragging.
I wrote 5,000 words yesterday. And I have to say, it was tough, but I got through it and I was able to come back to reality instead of staying in that dark place.
Last night was fabulous as three other couples dressed up and we went out with rockstar hubby for his birthday. My mom brought me back a gorgeous dress from Italy and after putting a slip under it (ah, that's what they're for) I looked hot.
Dinner was Thi Fusion and it was amazing of course and then we went to a bizarre movie. It was 'burn after reading' and I have to say...yuck.

So off I go to ignore the housework and run errands.
Tomorrow I get to pull apart the backyard veggie garden and maybe part of the porch. What will I uncover?

Er...

As the gaffer and I left the grocery store, an elderly woman passed by us. She said, "pardon me, little one" to the gaffer.
The gaffer turned to look at me:
G: why did she say, pardon me one-one?
Me: no, she said, pardon me little one.
G: I'm not that little!
Me: no, you're not, but you're littler than she is
G: (looking at the back of her as she walks away) She has a fat bum!


Cue biting of tongue and trying to keep straight face as I give him the hairy eyeball.

distracted, frustrated, needing direction in a serious way

so now that the first book is off in the universe at the mercy of publishers, agents and God, i have to work on the second one. And the second one is doing well, i guess. but now i'm torn. how to finish it?
do i sell it as adult fiction?
do i re-write and add how God came into the picture? (i think that's a yes)
or do i re-write, adding God, keeping the grit and making it a teen series? would teens read about a growing up older teenager who becomes an adult series? would they even be interested? what if each book didn't have a happy ending until the very end? could i even make it a series? i think i could. but would they want to read every gory detail, every real detail about every single character that the heroine encounters? would it be too abstract?
i'm in serious need of direction because right now i have nothing and i don't know where to take it and if i don't have a direction or goal, i have no ending to look towards and so right now i am not writing.
instead i'm pretending to do ballet practice and i must say, it's going badly.

Shocked, doing my civic duty. Why do people treat firefighters badly?

So I went to the library this morning with the gaffer. As we walked in, I could smell a very strong gas smell. You know the smell when you first fill up your car? That clean gas smell. I walked into the front door and the smell went away. Huh. I collected my books and went to the counter and talked to the librarian. She came out with me and the smell was gone. Huh. She looked at me like I was nuts. Fair enough. I usually smell strange things that no one else smells.
So I let neurotic dog out for a pee while gaffer climbed a huge rock and I could smell it again. I walked over to a dodge charger sitting in the parking lot and when I got two feet away, I could smell it again. I smelled her engine, her trunk...it reeked. So I called Rockstar Hubby, who just happened to be at work. He told me to look underneath and yes, I could see a leak. So he hung up and called the fire department around the corner. They came by. During this time, the lady had yet to return to her car.
Of course I felt ridiculous. I felt like I was making something out of nothing. But RSH comforted me, and the boys didn't mind.
So they came.
And her car was leaking gas. Not entirely unsafe, but if someone dropped a cigarette, the car would catch fire. Should I go inside and get her? Of course, she should know she has a leak.
I found her and apologized profusely for my worry, told her it was nothing to be concerned about, my husband was a firefighter, the men that were there were my friends blah blah. She gave me a rather cold look and said, "I wish you had told me first". I slunk back to my car.
After a few moments of the men talking to her, I drove away quickly. She scowled at me.
Ten minutes later I got a call from RSH.
"Good thing you called", he said. Why?
"They had her start the car to see how bad the leak was, and she was pretty crusty. When she started it, the gas streamed out in a steady leak so they yelled at her to turn off her car quickly. She drove away instead."
What???!!!!
So now the FD have called the police as they had her licence plate number, and the police will probably wait at home for her.
Watch her own a pot plantation or something....

Ha!!!! Crusty cow.

gettin' er done

I can't believe I've been cleaning for almost three hours now. I've actually filled two garbage bags full of garbage, of things that no longer have a place in this house. I actually filed bills, receipts, notices, warranties and our insurance forms. I actually found our will kit. (why haven't we done that yet?)

I threw out old flours, rice and oatmeal. I organized my tupperware.

It's happening.

Domestic goddess...

What's next?

I'm finding myself suddenly at a loss of what to do with myself.

The book is done and gone. I don't 'feel' like working on the other one, even though it could be the one to get published.
I don't feel like painting anything.
Rockstar hubby mentionned focusing on ballet. But I've just started. Should I get passionate about something I'm only doing once a week? Maybe. I'll see after tonight's class. And how passionate can one get if there's no way it would become a profession and if there is nowhere really to practice. RSH offered to build me a wall of mirrors and a barre, but seriously, I can't see myself sharing space with the gunfights and ziplines in the basement. Although it would be interesting to try.

So for today, in all of its coldness, I'm going to work on the garden. Time to rip stuff out and chop things down. I don't know where I'm going to put it all, my bins are already full and I have no trailer.

The gaffer's off to school again today. Thankfully I bought another uniform because I forgot to wash the other one. He'll have a good day.

lazy or busy?

I'm becoming lazy.

Or is it that I'm just too busy?

I don't recall being busy, I don't really see anything 'accomplished', but at the same time I haven't had a chance to read either. Hm..

My tomatoes are pathetic. I have not done any gardening, including watering since we've returned from the cottage at the end of August. But it's been raining. But I've lost my 'want' of tomatoes. I did manage to plant my beans and they are growing well, but I'm not seeing any flowers. The cucumbers are too big. The leeks are mushy (how did they get mushy? how is it I'm buying my leeks to make soup?), my tomatoes are either cracked, moldy or aren't ready yet. My pumpkins are still turning orange. My watermelon disappeared. And I just sit back and look outside and think, "Meh". It must be the cooler weather.
I'm determined to start making my own bread. In the past ten loaves I've purchased, the first 5 were moldy by day two, the others were stale and yesterday's was moist, but half way through the loaf there was a big hole right in the middle. You can't eat sandwiches with a hole in the middle! I'm determined to make my own. But not the super yummy kind of cinnamon and raisin or the tempting rosemary olive. I'm going to find a recipe for whole wheat, flax blah blah. No really. I'll do it. I just have to get to bulk barn.

I want Fall.
I want the cool weather in the morning that gets warmer in the afternoon. I want slow leaves changing and I want ample opportunities to go crunching down the street in my running shoes. I don't want snow until december. I think rockstar hubby doesn't want snow until January so the tree work keeps coming in. And I'm praising God by saying, it keeps coming in.

I've started a ballet class...
it's amazing. It's brilliant. We're all adults and the other girls aren't little sticks. They're normal, like me. And it was fun. And hard. And amazing.

Things getting finished.

The sunroom is finally finished. It looks amazing. I managed to incorporate the two 'styles' of it being a comfy room to sit and read, and one to just eat chips and watch movies. Oh, excuse me, watch CABLE! Rockstar hubby did a brilliant job, even though it took forever. So today I'm supposed to be tidying the house, put things away etc....but I had to get my novel off.
And I did.
I took that jump and I emailed it off.

To find out that one of the interested parties no longer works there. Oh crap.

So I shed my two tears, maybe three, and now back to faith. See what happens.

A fudge. I need to shed another tear. Pardon me. Talk amongst yourselves.

updates are late in coming

So much for blogging everyday.

Tuesday brought us gaffer's first day of JK. He was very excited to go and loved his uniform. When we met the teacher he gave her a hug, removed his hat and sunglasses and blew me a kiss good-bye. Then he proceeded to dance in the middle of the room. I think he'll be fine. No tears on my side. I think I'm more excited that he'll learn things instead of thinking 'my baby's growing up'.

Wednesday brought us B's birthday. She killed chickens and we met her and her hubby for dinner at Thi Fusion for lovely food and lovely wine, followed by lovely clothes shopping. How could I possibly have a bad time?

Thursday was gaffer's second day of school, and he learned 'bonjour, mes amies'. Which I'm thrilled with. Oh, and the letter i and the letter u. Fabulous. I even went for a massage. And it wasn't so great. I don't get it. I laid down, it felt nice, but it didn't feel relaxing. It was just...boring? I think maybe she didn't have magic hands. Although it's not like she did anything wrong...maybe because there were no smelly oils? Hm..

Rockstar hubby has been working like a maniac at trees. Our sunroom is in a holding pattern as we wait for the cement to dry before laying the laminate flooring. I can't wait to have my space back! Oh, and we've broken down and we're getting cable. It's been...hm...actually, we've never had it in our 11 years together. Hm...well, it's coming and it's the cheapest and least channels and that's the way I like it.

Have been procrastinating on cover letter for submitting book. I need to make myself sit down and write it. Tried to bribe B to write it, but she said we needed to write it together, and she's terribly busy being a successful jam/jelly/tea biscuit seller at the Farmer's Market. Perhaps tonight while rsh is at men's ministry meeting.

In other brilliant news: WE GOT OUR FREAKIN' BACKPAY!!! Could it have taken longer? Yes, it's been since 2003 since the last contract and now we get the raise and the backpay and I am soooo happy! We're heading to DR in the spring, and hopefully see our two Compassion Kids and have some seriously needed R and R. And the cloud bed will be paid for. yay!

a mother's moment.

yeesh. i think i need to blog daily or these things can get extra long.
in a nutshell: went to the cottage for a few days. had good times and bad times. weather was good and it was bad. am home now and am avoiding unpacking. except for the food of course. am pleased to say hubby is bringing home thi fusion food. yum.

am reading absolutely amazing book. 'Sahara Special' by Esme Raji Codell. it's junior fiction and i have never read anything so well written and so touching. i don't go for 'touching' books, nor do i go for sad ones. 'the notebook' is something that will have to be forcefed to me. i do not like crying. but this book...i can't stop crying. and it's not because i'm sad. it's because it's beautiful. read it. buy it. own it.

am proud of gaffer today. stopped at the local chapters to grab a latte (no i did not go to the carleton place one, i wanted it now, not later) and while gaffer waited on comfy chair for me, while i waited for my latte, he sat quietly. as we went to leave towards thomas' table, he told he had to speak to the two ladies, to ask them if they had Jesus in their heart. i said, ok, go ahead and quietly watched. he went right up to the first one, a woman about 60 i guess, well dressed, and put his hand on her knee and said, 'do you have Jesus in your heart?' and then ran back to me grinning and said, 'she said yes!' and i said, ok, let's go. and he said, no i have to ask the other lady. so he asked her too. i'm sure they were humouring him. but i don't care. i'm very very proud.

hmmmmmm

no baby.
no problem.


rockstar hubby brought up the idea of building a greenhouse in the backyard.


i can't stop salivating.....

I feel as though I should be witty but...

I know it's been awhile. And I don't even know if anyone missed me. It's not like I get anonymous comments, which means I am definitely not in the 'zone' or whatever it's called. And that's ok.
I just got back from Pembroke. Actually, I got back Wednesday night. I've been busy. Well, not so much busy, just not knowing what to write about. It almost feels mundane to write about regular events, although I keep reminding myself that at some point, I will probably print all of these blogs out to keep as a journal for later on. Just to see my growth.
And since last year, I've done a lot of growth.

As I said, I just got back from Pembroke. There's a retreat center out there called, St.Marguerite's, which I believe used to be a hospital. Or a nunnery for really old nuns. Regardless, it has some lovely lounges to sit it, a private bedroom, and you get fed three meals a day plus delicious snacks on the side. Which would explain why I'm back on the 'super-diet' because I gained a few while I was gone, even though I went for long walks everyday. I can hope that these few pounds mean I'm pregnant, but I won't hold my breath. (Incidentally, whoever out there tells people trying to get pregnant to stop trying? Shut up. Seriously! I don't want to hear I'm trying too hard. I want to hear, oh you poor thing, that sucks. Let me wallow for a few moments while I need to regain my hopes and desires for the next two weeks! I don't want to hear stories about how so-and-so stopped trying and now they are. Good for them. I don't care. This isnt' about them. And yes, I know maybe it's not part of the plan...you know what? I'm just going to stop talking about it and leave it at that. There. No more whining. Ok)
um...oh yah. So I went away initally to have a good cry. Life was getting a little too insane. I hadn't been away since last November (what was I thinking???) and I needed it. The gaffer was making me crazy and I had no patience left whatsoever. And all of life was pressing around me, tightly squeezing my chest until I couldn't breathe. And I felt it. The sadness. The sadness and despair and depression was coming. I only know this because I was 'depressed' before and it's not a place I'm going to allow myself to go again. So I was off for some spiritual healing. If you ever need healing baby, go to the big man. He knows what He's doing.
Taking all of the little silly details out, like how I shopped, walked the trail by the water (hello? beautiful!), visited garden centers and walked too far and got blisters....I did not cry. At all. What's up with that?

I wasn't sad. I was just...quiet. Not even introspective. I kept talking to God, saying, Ok, anything You want to tell me, I'm listening, I'm here for You! And basically He told me to chill out. So I did. And after much reading and studying I came up with one conclusion.

I'm growing again. One thing I always beg for, is for God to make me into who He wants me to be. Anything, any problem, no matter what. I want to be the best I can be, for Him. No one else. And that's when life got horribly icky. And I grew. I depend on Him and I grow.
I also remembered that I told God that I would do, be, suffer whatever, anything: for my parents to be saved. I told Him I'd do anything. Give anything. I would give up everything for this.
The other day I was listening to Chuck Swindall (sp?) on CHRI and he was talking about our souls and how they never die. How when you go to heaven, your soul lives forever in heaven. But if you go to hell, you soul lives forever in hell.
I wouldn't wish hell on my worst enemy.

So, in all, I was reminded of the simplicity of the world. How I need to keep it simple and focus on what's really important.
And I had a thought. That maybe all these children that I want, this huge family that I don't have yet, maybe they'll come to me in the form of the Indian Orphanage I want to move to. Or to all the children who will write to me when I publish my book and I get to write back. Who knows? Doesn't matter. I just want them.

Retreat in 4 days.
that's all i have to say.
i can't wait.

White Water Canoe Weekend

It was brilliant.

I don't know what else to say.

It was beautiful weather, we got rained on Sunday, but no wind so we made it back in record time.

I laughed a lot.



I got soaked. Notice the water in the bottom of the canoe?



Yes, that is a deer chasing the rapids.



We named her Psycho Deer. I figure she was looking for some kicks. Neurotic Dog jumped out of the canoe to chase her. It's been so long since she's been able to chase deer.

We had wine, lemon meringue pie, olives and cheese, granola bars, enchiladas, spaghetti, granola with too much chocolate, and a stop at Irving's for fries and gravy on the way home. It was awesome.

The Race

Ok, so last year we did the same race. The Mitsubishi Motors City Chase all over Ottawa.
Last year we were fifth.
This year? Er....Let me explain.
This year it was held at the Museum of Civilization. Which meant of course, that regardless of where you had to go, you had to run at least three kilometers first. Which is fine for runners, and my rockstar hubby. Not moi.
So they split us up in to two parts. One part, two hundred people, ran to the statue of Maurice Richard, the other half down to the water.
So we ran down to the water. It took about five minutes, downhill. Then we saw two people in yellow shirts (crew) and realized we had to build a tower out of seven rocks that was two feet high. Which was easy. Except that there were two hundred people there doing the same thing. And only one person giving the check to go. We waited fifteen minutes for ours to get looked at. I sang 'Hey beeeooootiful laaaaaady!' at the top of my voice for awhile, but it didn't work.
We then ran up a hill to receive our clues.
Rockstar hubby had to pee and was not focused at all. And the clue sheet didn't look too good.
We first ran to Jacques Cartier park, where we joined another team to walk on skiis around an obstacle course. Then I had to wear a helmet, with a cup attached and RSH had to throw balls at me to get them in.
Then we had to run. All the way to the Art Gallery. Uphill. We got behind it and there was the challenge. I had to 'golf' very heavy balls to a number. RSH then had to use stilts to walk the length. Thankfully, he grew up on stilts (???) and did brilliantly. Then we had to run to William Street. it was already 26C.
We had to use a Blackberry to video: 15 seconds of us playing leapfrog, 15 seconds of me singing with another person, 15 seconds of me tickling someone's foot, a tatoo below the waist, 15 seconds of me sharing food with another person. We did that quickly and efficiently.
Then we had to walk to the busstation and wait for the 7 bus to take us to Carleton U. That took 10 minutes. Then we boarded and worked on our trivia sheet during the twenty minute bus ride. It was about 3 miles, but I needed the rest and to refuel.
We got there and ran to the park where it was very busy. We had to run 'suicides' and then rsh had to shoot four cans down with a paintball gun. He got two. So I got to shoot him in the back and he was given five more shots. With the cans down, we took off again.
We ran down to the glebe, to the Running Room where we handed in our trivia sheet. The lady there was incredibly rude and said we failed. No check point. Then we had to convince five strangers to buy cans of iced tea. That was hard. Let me tell you how pissy people are in the Glebe. Woo!
Then we caught a bus up to Bank and Gladstone (which was only a fifteen minute run, but you have to understand that my body was tightening up, two hours had gone by, and I was exhausted). Then we ran into the Whalebone. I threw a die, and I got a four. We went inside and I had to eat four raw oysters.
Dude.
I can barely swallow eggs.
RSH opened them and I cleaned them with water and as each was placed at the back of my throat, I would gag, then swallow immediately. It tasted like slimey salt. It was gross.
Then we had to run to Elgin to find Jack Purcell Park. We were to bowl while blindfolded, but the line-up was incredible and the people at the front had already been waiting fifteen minutes. We decided to leave.
We ran up Elgin and decided to wait for the number 3. We had to go to Coventry to the baseball Stadium. That was far. The bus came every half hour. We had three check points to go. We had to choose.
We waited.
We got there, with many others on the bus, and realized we could not just go in because there was a HUGE thing going on with muscle cars and women not wearing much, so we had to go AROUND. I was starting to shiver. It was 30C. We had to run around the stadium, down the hill and inside.
I had to catch a ball that rsh would hit with a bat. I did. Then we had to run up the stands to another guy to get another check. Then we had to run back down to the field, all the way around the stadium, and to the bus stop.
I was exhausted. My head pounded and I was shivering at this point. My eyes felt like they were closing on their own.
We had to wait half an hour for the bus.
We got on and sat down. I ate more, drank more (this is where I tell you I had 4 litres of water in three hours, but it did nothing) and then I got the stomach cramps. RSH wanted me to quit and I said no. Just one more checkpoint.
We got off downtown, ran to Sussex and then to a bunch of cars. We had to grab three strangers, pull them into a car and we all had to sing at the top of our voices for thirty seconds to a song on the radio. We did.
Then we had to run all the way back to the Museum.
It took twenty minutes. Uphill.
We got there at 4 1/2 hours, we were number 166.

I was devastated.

It was definitely a runners' race, and we had planned poorly.

Ah, well, there's always next year.

Being Busy Enough to Avoid

We go camping this weekend with three other fabulous couples. The yearly retreat to the Petawawa River. I have to say, I'm not really looking forward to it. I think my body is getting too old to sleep uncomfortably on the ground. And the bugs, oh the bugs. And my period is due. Which has happened for the past three years. Yuck. That's the biggest reason.
And so much has to be done around here! My front garden which I've worked so hard on, is now full of crabgrass. My backyard is full of doggie-doo-doo and sharp thistles. My greenbeans are out of control. My tomatoes are on the verge of turning red, but it's just not sunny enough. I've already had to chuck four due to blossom end rot.
My book. Sigh. Don't even talk to me about my book. You'd think I'd have it done by now, but it seems that family pressures and challenges are keeping me distracted. And my rockstar hubby isn't working enough. I know that sounds ridiculous, but he's been home at weird times, so 'me' time becomes 'us' time. And I'm terribly happy about that.
And then, I haven't been feeling very well. It must have something to do with the race we did on Saturday. I think I hit dehydration well, because I still have stomach aches and headaches and a bit of nausea in the head. Hm...
ah well, suck it up princess.

Conversation on the way to the Car

Me: I'm not opening your batman mobile until we get to the car ok?

gaffer: when we get to the car

me: that's right

gaffer: but when you open it, you give me the package, ok?

me: ok buddy

gaffer: cause you're giving me the package, right?

me: ok

gaffer: i'm aaaaalll about the packaging.


(incidentally, he still has the package. and he calls it the 'batman bumblebeel')

:)

Conversation in the Car

Gaffer: Mommy? You're a rockstar!

Me: Oh, thanks buddy! You're a rockstar too!

Gaffer: No, I'm the teacher of rockstars.

On the Hunt

It took seven stores and five hours...

...but I found it.


my bathing suit.

Harnessing the Rage

Our fabulous neighour, the one who smokes, the one who has large tree trunks right on the edge of our 'shared' property which he cuts with a chainsaw, in shorts, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, has built a firepit in the backyard.
I'd like to say that it smells lovely, all that woodsmoke, the fire cackling etc.
But it doens't.
It reeks.
Which is why at 9pm on a Sunday night, with beautiful winds and temperatures of 15C, my windows are closed and my air conditioning is on.
This seriously pisses me off.
What pisses me off even more is that he is not outside enjoying his fire at all. No, he's inside his house, probably sitting in front of the tv, waiting out his drunken stupor.
And my house stinks, because his stupid fire is exactly 30 feet from my house.

Tonight, I can't do anything about it, and rockstar hubby has pretty much chained me to the sofa so that I don't go ballistic all over his butt. He said tomorrow when our fabulous neighbour was remotely sober, he would discuss with him how stinky it is.
And then we'll check the by-laws. Because I have no problem calling the cops on his butt.
I'm praying he stops having fires. We have been seriously nice to this family, even rock star hubby doing their freakin' driveway ALL winter and if I can remind you, we had a crapload of snow which resulted in him snowblowing EVERY SINGLE DAY! And no, we he didn't do it for anything in return, a thank you would have been nice, but that's fine.

I am currently having nightmares of moving again. I cannot deal with my clothes, my sheets, my couch smelling like campfire smoke. Yes, campfire smoke is lovely...in the forest!
I don't want to move again. I like my house. I love my house. It's starting to become home.

I think I'm going to lose my mind.

a secret

I have always wanted to do the L.A. thing.
You know where you pack up your bags, bring your best profile photos and go to millions of auditions? Of where you have a roomate in an apartment and you read 'Variety' to find out where the auditions are, and work as a waitress to make ends meet?
To spend weekends rollerblading down the ocean, getting tanned and swimming in the salty waters.
To always audition for the 'fat girl' spot because I'm not a size 0 or a hundred pounds.

I know it's sleezy/cheezy but it's something I've always wanted to do.

My Moment of Brilliance

We always get credit cards in the mail. And it's always the same. I open them, cut them up and throw them out.
Today a card came from Desjardins Bank.
What the?
I opened it to find a credit card with rockstar hubby's name on it. And a note saying, 'Call this number to activate the card!' Yah, ok, not in this lifetime. So I pulled out my scissors and chopped it up, tossing into yesterday's leftover chicken bones.
Talked to rockstar hubby.
'Can you believe they sent us a credit card? They are getting really gutsy with their ploys!' I say as I clean the kitchen and get ready to bag the trash.
"Oh, that's the visa we had to get to buy the cloud. Once we pay it, we can deactivate it."

Oh. Oops.

It's now sitting on the kitchen counter, in 12 pieces.

Berries and Controls

Today started off with a trip to Cedarhill Berry Farm near Pakenham. I'm embarassed to admit that 'adventure girl' has never picked strawberries (I know, I lived a tough childhood). So I packed up the gaffer into semi-cute clothes and we hit the road. After about a 20 minute drive involving a 20 minute talk about farts, fart-statues, baby Smedley farting (stuffed dog) and strawberries not farting, we arrived. And I have to say, I was pretty impressed. I've seen berry farms before, one being in Richmond, the other along hwy 7 (why would you want to eat something that grows beside the highway?), but this was nice. It was clean, organized, there was hay everywhere. So we grabbed our three baskets and head out. I'm proud to say I picked my three baskets full in half an hour. The gaffer lost interest after about thirty seconds, and I sent him on the task of going up and down the aisles. It worked. We (I) carried the baskets to the cash and only paid twenty-two bucks! I was so pleased! Then we went home. How easy was that? Then I actually washed our sheets (the cloud was getting black from dog hair), pretended to clean the kitchen (I actually only made green-tea lemonade...yum!) and have cleaned out the hall closet. Yes, this is it. I'm grabbing that horny bull and I'm PAINTING THE HALLWAY! I'm in shock myself. It's only been what? A year? Oh wait, a year and 5 months. Yeesh. So now I have a plan with shelves and we will be hanging all of our coats on various hooks of all designs.

So on a more serious, spiritual matter. Yeck. I've forgotten. I've forgotten everything I learned last year about control. I don't have any. I need more. There's a huge difference between controlling yourself and controlling 'things'. So, here's my reminder. I cannot control anyone else's actions. I cannot control anyone else's behaviour. I cannot control how people will react, what they will say, what they will say/do to me. The only thing I can control, is how I will react/say/do. And God knows what's going on with me. He's controlling what's going on with me. So I need to LET IT GO.
Why is it so easy to forget stuff like that? Ok, so off to paint, and off to rant to God about all this crap and I'll wait for an answer or two.

Blood, Dating and Dirt Pig

Today started off with a bloody nose from the gaffer's forehead smashing me while snuggling in bed. Then rockstar hubby came home and we packed up and dropped child off at sitter's and headed downtown for a date.
We walked the Glebe, walked the Canal all the way to downtown where we stopped for lunch at the Mezzanote and had a shrimp caesar salad. Yum! Then we walked some more. Through the market, through the rideau center, through to the glebe. I mentionned it would be a dream to own a house in the Glebe for a few years, and just enjoy biking everywhere and walking everywhere and rockstar hubby being able to walk to firehall. Of course we'd need our own parking space though.
Then we stopped at the cycle shop and I picked up a set of 'Ape' handlebars for my dirtpig! I'm super excited and the handles are about two feet long so it'll make biking much more enjoyable. Am seriously debating buying hot pink tremclad to make the dirt pig more piggy. Hm....Might look more girly and I might like that.
Dropped rsh at work, picked up gaffer, came home, sighed at my peas as the bottom of their huge planter broke through and now they are half on the ground.
Am feeling somewhat ...sad today as today is brother's birthday and we haven't spoken since Christmas. Am tearfully wondering what happened to our amazing friendship and closeness. Am also in a bit of pain (in shoulders, knees and ribs) from slight fender bender today. Lady hit me from behind and thankfully I didn't swear in front of gaffer. Come to think of it, I believe my exact words were, "Oh my goodness!" And thankfully, my trailer hitch put a hole in her bumper. But I feel, icky and sore. Am debating whether to hide under duvet for awhile or tackle book and then eat copious amounts of baguette and blue cheese while watching, 'So You Think You Can Dance.'
Given I've just painted my toes a lovely shade of pink, I think I'll work on my masterpiece. And think of the lovely time rsh and gaffer will have tomorrow morning at Cosmic.

Bobos and bad editing

It's one of those days where my body thinks it's growing. That I'm twelve years old again and I'm all arms and feet. I smashed the corner of the car door into my 'bad' shoulder (ok, it STILL hurts), I smashed my head on the car roof (???), walked into a corner right in my groin, and kicked the table leg, barefoot.

However, I did see the doc and he says the ticker is fine. And that when I have 'an episode' of tachio-fibri-heart-whatareyoutalkingabout, that I'm to ...er...bare down. Or stick my finger down my throat to activate my gag reflex. Or poke my eyeballs. Or shove my face into a sink full of icy water. Er...I'll take the bearing down. And hope I don't poop myself in the process. Apparently doing this will slow down the psychotic heartbeat, my body thinking it's drowning. O-kaaaaay. Maybe I should keep on my floaties?

My house is super-stinky. I made Patak's last night and I forgot to add the onion at the beginning. Ah, whatever, it'll be fine. And then I tried it at the end. Ew. And the brown rice? Ew. Who in the world eats brown rice? I thought it was organic long grain or something. Yuck! So rockstar hubby was kind enough to buy clubs and salad all around. But I packaged it up and shoved it into the fridge, thinking I'd wash it off (yes, in the sink with water) and add to my omelette. So when I get home today, my house is still stinky, regardless of many sticks of nag champa, and I'm looking at it, thinking, the dog will eat it. And then I realized that not only did I forget the onion, but I also forget the cilantro and the milk. Hello? Where is my brain? Yeesh. So I'll fix it. Tomorrow. Tonight is baguette, blue cheese, grapes, olives and perhaps just a leeetle bit of vino. Mmmmm. Yes, rockstar hubby is working.

Worked on the book today. Debated overhauling it. Got very frustrated about 'my voice'. I still don't think I completely understand it. Maybe I should just send the silly thing to Andy and hope he can be blunt enough to say, "Um...it sucks" and get it over with. (Or maybe he'll think it's brilliant and he'll fly me to uh, Michigan or Memphis or wherever he is..or I'm dreaming again)

So rockstar hubby had a brilliant canoe weekend with 19 guys and they loved the food. Which I, the campfire cooking goddess, prepared. He got home super-late Sunday night so of course we had a nice big fat fight and snuggled in. Monday was returning stuff, having breakie with friends who are moving to Botswana forever (!!!) and a huge nap. Then the dinner fiasco. We get to have a day date tomorrow and then he and the gaffer are hitting cosmic thursday so I can pretend to work on my book.

judgmental

Today’s creepy factor comes from old guy sitting across from me at Starbucks, writing a paper on Lolita.
And he’s eating a breakfast egg thingy with way too much enthusiasm.

I’m trying not to be judgmental because I just prayed about not being judgmental with double standards. I’ll be the first to admit that if you put a bloody steak in front of me, it's not a pretty sight. I’ve tried thinking around his excuse for writing about such a dirty book.

The only thing I’ve come up with is perhaps he’s arguing against it. He’s wondering what’s happening to our society, where sex sells and we accept it. Yes, that’s it.

Now if he’d only stop farting. It’s starting to smell like old man poo.

and while I'm on the subject...

Yes, I'm posting again. My rockstar hubby is gone until Sunday night and I'm lonely.


Ok, I've had my bath and all I did was stare into space. It was nice. Couldn't tell you what I was thinking about. Oh yes, I was telling myself to go do my quiet time. Not enough time with God, I said to myself. My body sighed in guilt.

Ok, proof I am not a grown-up:

1)I bought a purple striped t-shirt because it was purple and cute.
2)I just ate a handful of carob chocolate chips.
3)I read children's fiction
4)I can't remember how old I am. 30? 34?
5)I'm wondering if I can climb into the mirror over the bathroom.
6)I blew bubbles in the tub. No, not from my bum.
7)I giggle when women fart in the cubicle next to me. If I fart? Forget it.
8)The big one: my parents came for supper the other night and asked about gaffer's school in the fall. My baby is turning 4 and will be attending JK because God was not particularly loud on homeschooling or not. When we went for our interview my questions were:
What will he be reading? Is there a nap? Will they be praying? Will they be learning bible verses?
That's it.
My parents? Asked. Me. 64 questions.
What do they do with learning disabilities? Who funds the school? What organization is it under? What do they do for disciplinary action? What if he's failing? Why are they wearing uniforms? etc.
I had no answer. Never occured to me. All I came up with was: If there's a problem, we'll homeschool.
Huh.
My kid can almost burp his ABC's. He also tells me stuff and then says, "that's just an expression". He knows all the words to 'I Love My Pirate Papa' (brilliant book by the way. bring a hankie) And whenever he sees the dog, he sings 'Bicycle built for two'. His favourite song is the Bellybutton song (veggietales) and Modern Major General.
Huh.
And I'm his best friend.

Ok, recipe for my 'pretend it's tabbouleh'
1 cup of cooked quinoa (i didn't feel like cooking it so i made kamut/quinoa pasta)
1 cucumber chopped
3 tomatoes (field grown)
1 huge handful of cilantro (cleaned and chopped)
1 can of black beans, rinsed
1 can of chick peas, rinsed
a lot of olive oil
some lemon juice
a lot of salt
some oregano
A LOT of cumin.

taste. change. mix. put in fridge for 6 hours. tastes best next day when it's soggy.

Ok, I'm going to lick the fake chocolate from under my ring finger now.

under the duvet

It seems like the summer is a big waiting game. I think I'm not appreciating each day as it comes. I've been living with schedules, and what's coming up thoughts. Such as: Men's wild at heart weekend, city chase, couple's weekend, our holidays at the cottage, our 8 year anniversary, when do we start trying to have another baby, the gaffer starting school ...etc.
I think I'm having a hard time just enjoying things. I mean, granted, it's been pretty hectic around here with getting ready for the men's trip with all the cooking and shopping and changing lists and adding people. And then getting ready for the Guelph trip and then getting rockstar hubby out of here today. And now I have all weekend to just hang out. But tomorrow is a 'me' day where I will learn the art of 'active voice' and then to a 'going-away' party for old friends. Then Saturday is a visit with Gigi and girls and Burb and girls and dinner. Sunday is church and ... waiting for rockstar hubby to come home. The front yard is finished (for now because I'm tired of working on it, and now it's time for maintenance and fertilizing), I have to finish my book...

(insert tangent here) I'm a little concerned about it actually. I tried working on it on Tuesday, trying to figure out how to make it active and I've changed the beginning.
(insert beginning here)

"Jackson doesn’t know it yet, but far away, yet closer than he thinks, is a little creature sighing in frustration.
This little creature is sighing because she has no idea what to do. This really isn’t a surprise in itself, especially if you know her.
The trap door is shut. Locked in fact. And it isn’t supposed to be locked. It is supposed to be unlocked and wide open. And this little creature was sent to unlock it and then open it, so it would no longer be locked, or unopened. But given that Meeka Sodo was just that kind of elf, given that she was who she was, she forgot the key.
So now here she is, standing at the top of a 30 foot high ladder, trying to open a locked trap door, with a fish."

Which I do like a lot more. I think it's intriguing and ridiculous. However ... I'm starting to doubt, and get frustrated and ... (in a whispered voice) think it won't be good enough.
There, I've said it. I'm usually pretty vain about my creativity but now...psshhhh. It's not like I think, "well, if so and so says no, then what do I do?". I'm not even there yet. Yet. I don't think I will be. See (insert vanity here) I've read some of the stuff out there and it's junk! I read a bit of local guy's book, about Sir Fartsalot and sure it's a funny name and the knight is rather old, but it's B-O-R-I-N-G! (insert local author contacting me and crying on the phone or leaving flaming poo bags on my front step)It's too complicated a story! And then there's the 'Diary of some kid who uses cartoon drawings to explain his life' and that too, is : D-U-L-L. I don't get it!? What am I missing? Am I expecting too many people to actually snort grape soda through their nose? Am I expecting the world to be full of people who 'get' Far Side? Am I expecting the world to almost pee themselves because they're having such a great laugh? (or sneeze? stupid useless baby muscles) Sigh. I know I've written a great book. But what if everyone else thinks it's crap? And who am I to trust? And what if (insert friends who are important writers & publishers & editors) think I'm crap? Will they tell me nicely or just stop subscribing to my blog?
Oh great. Now I've done it. She's here. The insecure lady with the blankets over her head is telling me to go upstairs and have a hot bath and start a recommended book (The Swallow - rec. by Andy) and feed bubbles to neurotic dog because I have two and a half hours before So You Think You Can Dance comes on. And I still have to make famous Tabbouleh salad (which is made with quinoa and no mint, so technically it's not longer Tabbouleh but I haven't made up a fab name for it yet) for tomorrow's going away party. And if I'm not home all day and then go to dinner, what will I do with neurotic dog? Sigh.
I'm going to lie in my cloud bed and hide under the duvet.

(Yes the cloud is lovely but I still have problems with solid sleep. I keep waking up expecting to be sore or stiff. Instead I sit up in bed and yell at gaffer not to touch electrical plug or tell dog not to eat bleach that I've spilled. Rockstar hubby wakes up and says 'huh?' and I wake up fully and say, 'Oh never mind'. I love sleep-talking)

My Tomato Forest

I planted ... um... 84 plants. They're all doing well .. huh.

The First of the Season

It was brilliant.

To: Andy

Ok, I can't win. I can't talk nicely about anyone, without someone else asking why I'm not talking about them.
So here's Andy.

Andy is fabulous. He is hilarious. He can take a joke. Especially mine. Which means I like him a lot because I know my humour is insane and weird, and not too many people get it. And I feel sorry for people who don't, and I bet they don't get 'Far Side' either. I'm willing to bet Andy has one or two posted on his tiny little cubby-hole's wall. Actually I think he mentionned his office isn't allowed pictures and he sits cooped up all day like a chicken. Ok, I'm making up the chicken part, but given I am a WRITER I'm allowed to embelish. A little.
So, when I met Andy of Zondervan, I asked him if he was in Canada. He said yes with a strange look on his face. A look I am not completely unfamiliar with. The look that tells me they are going to go sit somewhere else now. But then I said, 'Where are you?' and the face became more contorted with a bead of perspiration on his forehead, answered, "Guelph". D-uh. I MEANT where his office was, but given I am never direct in questions, no wait, I'm always direct, urm ... I don't usually speak clearly? Huh. Anywayzzzzzzzzzz, I teased him mercilessly and he took it like a man, so now he's practically my favourite-est editor (sorry, Burb is first), and I think he'd be fun to go shoot ducks with. Or spend the day at a waterpark.
So, check out his blog which is linked on my page, and read the books he's 'discovered' and then e-mail that he's brilliant or a nutcase. And his beautiful family is on there too because he doesn't mind showing them off. Whereas I am more ... private.

apologies all around

I forgot a gigantic detail in my blog of Friday.
I mentioned all the wonderful people I met, naming two fabulous authors. However, I only explained Janice Dick and after re-reading the post, and getting a 'shot' from B.G., I need to apologize. Anyone who read the blog will think, 'Um, who's Bonnie?' and of course I didn't give any details.
This is the part where I RAVE about Ms. Bonnie Grove.

She's brilliant. She is so funny and so energetic and so fabulous....she reminds me of me? (Oooh, how vain!) She gave me a TON of encouragement, explaining how to have an active voice, to punch it up a little and then she explained the 'voice' thing which I am just now understanding. I have never met a more encouraging woman, and as I explained to Ms. Janice Dick, "she definitely has the gift of exhortation". And she gave me great advice on which books to read to better my writing ability. So, if you have a chance, by all means read her book(s) (I'm only aware of one, but I am a terribly ignorant person who is new to all of this) and Janice Dick's.

Bonnie. You. Are. Fab.

reeling, wheeling and dealing

ok, first i need to apologize because my mind is spinning so much on its own right now, that i can't be bothered to 'edit' my blogging, using proper punctuation and capitals. so, if you're a very important person reading this because i gave you one of my cards, sorry. but, i'm not sorry at the same time because this is pretty much how i talk. actually everything would be in capitals but then someone would get the wrong idea and think that i yell all the time, which i kind of do, but not in anger. whatever.

so i got here on wednesday, as you have read the other blog from wednesday. thursday morning i woke up and drove to chapters to get some good quality God time. it was awesome. i drove to the conference and registered. then i walked around so i could find where i was going but it made no difference because i couldn't find anything anyways.
so i attended the first session on: why you are here and where are you going? i already knew why i was there (to sell a book darnit!) and where i was going didnt' help much.
met two very nice ladies. one which happens to be a minister's wife from nb, and is moving to arnprior! hello? here's my card babe, i'm 20 minutes from you! she's young, is on her third child...typical minister's wife i think. love her. met another girl who writes 'historical fiction'. seriously? i had no idea what that was until this weekend. basically it's a mushy romance book based before 1950. huh. i asked what her plot was and it sounds pretty juicy and i may have to beg her to let me read it.
went to next class on 'idiot's guide to Christian fiction'. guy who wrote the book is teaching the class and there are 5 classes. i've been to 3 so far and they are fascinating.
at dinner i positioned myself right at 'important person i wanted to talk to' from zondervan. we chatted. i pitched my book. regardless of the fact that he doesn't take kids' books, he offered to read it. fabulous! and i think i made a new friend because i kept shoving my foot in my mouth and he seemed to enjoy it. i guess he likes loud, abrasive people. fabulous! inside joke being 'you're in canada!' duh.
another class...er...uh...hm...'getting your book published in canada'. which was very interesting. afterwards i hit up 'important person i want to talk to' from harpercollins. who doesn't take kids books. but after i spoke to him, he gave me his card and told me to email the manuscript to him and he'd give it to the right people. fabulous!!!
got back to hotel at 10:30, shrieking the entire way, had to take a gravol so i could actually sleep, and slept.
woke up at 7 with that wonderful 'did i just drink all night?' feeling in my mouth. found pillow in my mouth. huh. serves me right for going to bed without a snack in my belly.
got my latte (!!!) and headed to breakfast. managed to snag table with 'important person i want to talk to' literary agent guy and he told the entire table to just start pitching him. so i did. knowing he doesn't do kids books. oh! you do kids books? huh. well....blah blah. he gave me his email address and told me to send him the manuscript but to write an awesome cover letter. i have to 'SELL' the book to him. huh. fabulous!
went to more workshops. my mind is a blur. listened to 'what is a platform and why do i need one' and figured i probably don't need one.

oh, oh! i'm out of order. ok, i had my manuscript critique with fabulous Janice Dick (yes i'm including names now!) and she critiqued me very...uh...constructively. love her. said i had a 'fresh new voice'. eeee!!! told me to tighten it, fix the grammar (sorry burb!) and remove a lot of the tangents. okeedokee.

so today, i met 4 people to talk about kids book and the new 'contemporary fiction' one i've half written. except i don't know if it's contemporary fiction. maybe it's memoire? no idea. anyhoo...
met with one publisher who said no to kids, yes to adult - send proposal. okeedokee. next met with zondervan guy again, just to harass as he is now a friend, and pitched adult book. RESULTS!!! i love new friends. then met guy who wrote my fiction class book and said no to kids and told me to re-write adult with three plots and began to break it down and lots of advice and i'm not going to bore you. then met with bonnie grove to ask some questions and wow did i get answers! she grabbed my kids book and read a bit and said: awesome voice, very original and to stick with it. tighten it. fix the presentation (indents and whatnot) and gave me two books to read. told me it was a brilliant idea and the book would do extremely well. (!!!!)
then went to dinner and sat with janice dick and she said immediately "bonnie loves your book". (!!!!!)
after dinner i had to leave. i couldn't take anymore sitting on my butt and i've eaten too many carbs and meats (like i minded) so i hit the mall and after a soy chail latte, bought some stuff because i couldnt' help myself. then came back to hotel where i am trying to organize my thoughts, my papers and pack for check out tomorrow. i will be leaving at 3 instead of 5 because i really want to get home by 9 and i don't want to get lost in the dark.
so tomorrow i meet with literary agent person and we'll chat. he's the same agent who's worked with very important people! stormie o'martian! tim lahey! gaaaaaaaahhhh!!!!!!

plan of attack: rewrite for two weeks and send the sucker off!!!

cloud nine is coming.....

and tomorrow i get to sleep in cloud bed. :)

morning of driving

Of course I didn't sleep well. I mean, I slept well enough. There was a lovely cool breeze last night so the windows were open and the earplugs were jammed into my ears. I didn't even hear rockstar hubby snore. Although I did poke him in the face twice for twitching.
I woke up at 4, but got out of bed at 4:45 and had a shower. Then dressed and ate. I was on the road by 5:30.
My first stop was to be Kingston, at Starbucks.

At 6am I began to yawn. A lot. My eyelids were very heavy and I realized I had forgotten to put the 'book on tape' onto my Ipod. So I turned on the tunes. But I was still very sleepy.
I pulled into Kingston and saw the sign for the 401. Perfect. I'll just come right back here.
As I followed my directions to Starbucks, I couldn't find Montreal Road. Huh. So I followed everyone else and passed the RMC and then went over the bridge to downtown. Where else would it be?
I ended up on Princess Street and then Wellington where I knew it was there somewhere. And as I found the Indigo and the Starbucks I had the prime parking spot out front.
Closed until 9am.
Seeing as how it was 7:30, I decided not to wait. I got very crabby and then I saw a Second Cup. Fabulous!
I used their washroom which was strangely dirty and gross and ordered a latte. As soon as I took a sip, I knew it would be crap. And it was. I got into my car rather gruntled, and saw a boy crossing the street with a Starbucks cup in his hand. I quickly jumped out.
"Oy! Where'd ya get the Starbucks!"
He pointed down the street.
And so I went.
It took me 5 minutes to find parking because I had no idea where I was going. Down the street does not mean there will be parking available.
So I found it and went in.
And she made it wrong.
Nonetheless I got back in my car and was on my way.
Er...
Ok, so I'm ON Wellington, I just have to find Queen street. Ah there it is. No wait, huh. Ok, it's Ontario Street. Well, maybe they just renamed Montreal street, Ottawa. So I followed it.
Oh yes, now I know where I'm going.
over the bridge, past the RMC.
Um...
huh.
Where's the hwy?
10 minutes later...

Why am I in Joyceville???? Oh, there's the 401. Huh. It sure is taking a long time to get there. Ah, I'm here. Get on.

15 minutes later...
Hey, there's the 15! And Montreal Street. Huh. I guess I was supposed to get off there? what? whatever.

Stopped for pee at rest stop near Belleville. The famous mcdonald's esso thingy.

huh. no running water.
I'm peeing anyways.

Do you know what it's like to pee on top of other pee? Like, a lot of other pee?
Pen runs out as i write down adventure in book. Yes I had travel wipes.

Ya.

Back on the hwy.

Singing the whole way to Oshawa. Got off in Oshawa.
Wrong exit.
Got directions.
Back on 401.
Right exit.
Starbucks!
Lalalalalala!
Screwed up my drink. Cashier and drive through guy kept staring at me and laughing. Check nose for boogies.
Maybe they're looking at me cause I'm hot?
huh. Sure. I'll believe that instead.

where is the 407?
huh.
ask for directions.
ah, didn't go far enough.
on 407.
running low on gas.
huh.
well, i'm not getting off there. or there. or there. nope. not there. huh.

ah! the 401! yes, yes, i'll go fill up.
esso!
gas.
water.
hmmm. no bathroom.
coffee time across road!
'must be paying customer to use washroom'
i buy a cranberry juice.

have thought: would i be arrested for not buying anything? would they kick my car? throw stale powdered donuts at my head? hm...am debating stopping there on the way home and not buying anything just to use their bathroom.

ah, guelph exit.
no wait, not it.
there it is!
huh. where am i?
oops. wrong exit.
back on track!
hotel!!!
yay!
wireless internet for free!
yay!

going shopping now.

Dream a Little Dream

So...tomorrow I leave at 5ish to go to Guelph.
The Guelph Writer's Guild Conference.
Where there will be publishers, agents and editors and other writers.
I get to spend tomorrow all by myself.
I get to stay in a hotel room all by myself.

Will it happen?

I have my 10 outfits, my three pairs of shoes, my three toiletry kits.
I have 20 Bio's, 10 copies of Chapters 4-5, 10 copies of first Chapters.
I have a full tank of gas, some cash, my map routed out with two stops at Starbucks (Kingston and Whitby).
I still have to pack my papers, my laptop and my bible.

I think I'm bringing too much. Is that possible?

Is it time?

Will it finally happen?

Is this the dream I've been waiting for?

text messaging

huh. This is the second message I've received from someone texting me that they love me. Which is very sweet.
Except I have no idea who this person is.

The first text message was on my husband's cell phone.

Of course I was a tad suspicious. Who wouldn't be? Then I asked him about it, and of course he denied it.

Which made me more suspicious.

And then I fell on the floor laughing because I realized that my husband has no idea what text messaging is, nor how to do it.

Today's text message was on my phone line. So I called them back, and a girl answered then promptly hung up on me. So I called back and listened to her voicemail.

I think she's ten.

Today's deep thought

If my neurotic dog licks the floor clean whenever food is dropped, why won't she lick my cabinets?

Business cards

I am officially a grown-up.
Yes I know 34 is a little too late to decide to be a grown-up and I'm still not sure I am one, as I tell the gaffer repeatedly "I am a beautiful princess, not a grown-up", but:
I. Have. Business Cards.
Oh yes.
And they look fabulous.

They say my name, then underneath it says: writer, artist, garden goddess.
and then a link to my blog.

Which means I need to write witty, important things on my blog now as I am searching agents and publishers and a need to be taken somewhat seriously. Perhaps I should start a silly blog? Or maybe I'll just be me, and continue with the silliness and then whoever reads my blog will know that I am the real deal and I am not TRYING to be funny, but actually I AM funny.
At least I think I am.

knowing

You know how sometimes you just ‘know’ something? Regardless of what anyone tells you, even if that person is incredibly close to you, and you value their opinion a lot, if they disagree or try to pull you away from something, you just don’t listen?

The subject in question would be my book. I leave in 16 days to go to Guelph to the writer’s conference. I have signed up for some amazing writing courses, held by amazing authors and speakers. I have signed up for a manuscript critique that will last only 15 minutes. I get to sign up for a one on one with publishers and editors where I have basically 30 seconds to pitch my book. Zondervan is going to be there for goodness sakes, both the U.S. and Canada publishing company. And the beauty of this conference, is that it is being held by Christians. Which means I can pitch my book the way it was written. As to why it was written. It was written because 1) God told me to and 2) because there aren’t enough Christian kids’ books out there. And the ones that are out there are crap. Actually I won’t be saying that part. I’ll just say that there needs to be more diversity, so that non-Christians will pick up the literature as well and incorporate new thoughts and beliefs into their hearts and minds. And I get to go by myself. I haven’t gone anywhere by myself in a very long time. So I’ve dog-eared the Starbucks on my map for the 6 hour drive. Regardless, I’m getting off topic.

So I’ve written my book, and I’m ecstatic it’s done. I have enough doubts pop into my head, I don’t need to fuel the fire. And I have some very well meaning friends. But one in particular is standing out today, and it’s really bothering me. When I told her about my book and that it was almost finished (a few months ago) and that I was seeking publishers and I knew it would be hard etc.. and she could have said: good for you! Or ‘wow, I’m so proud of you!’ or even ‘Can I read it?’ (always my favourite) But no. What she said was, ‘Well, maybe it just won’t be published until after you’re dead.’

?????

I really didn’t know what to say to her, but I respect her very deeply and I said something like ‘huh’.

I probably should have said: ‘you are not making my heart feel very special right now’. (something I’ve taught the gaffer to say, even though it sounds kinda weiny-ish) or I could have said, which I what I probably should have said, as it is something I would most likely say, is: ‘you mean, good job! I’m so proud of you! Aim for the moon! You can do it! It’s God’s work so it’ll be blessed!’

But I didn’t.

So I guess I’m just writing this not to tell people to stop ‘stepping on my mojo’ (seriously, what does that mean??), but to stop discouraging people! These are their dreams! We don’t need crabby crabs like you who are incapable of believing six impossible things before breakfast to talk to us at all! Blah blah! Nyah!

Ok, that’s all.

the fabulous long weekend

was ok.
friday involved a date day with rockstar hubby which was fabulous. we dropped the gaffer off and went to Cora's for another messed up breakfast (we will not be going anymore, they don't seem to understand what hot food means), then to the Glebe for a three hour walk. then he went to the firehall.
then he cut trees on saturday and went back to the firehall. gaffer and i purchased more flowers and worked in "_______'s big backyard" (insert gaffer's name). saturday night i put the gaffer to bed at 6 so i could have some quiet. he was asleep by 6:30, so that tells you what a handful he was.
sunday was church, and then homegroup fell apart so we went home and we all had a much needed nap. then we gardened, and i cleaned. i mean CLEANED the house. i was a machine! then we watched the Bee movie (not impressed, in my opinion, inappropriate for children with all the sexual inneundos). sunday late night involved watching 'Stardust'. good movie, but waaaaaay too long.
monday we took down the tree in the backyard, so now we only have one left. :( but it was dying, and there is nothing uglier than a dying chinese elm. Ulmus chinensis. then more cleaning and we went to bed at 8:30. the exhaustion hit hard.

looking forward to glebe garage sale and guelph conference..am experiencing teeny tiny butterflies.

regardless

Ok, what a weird weekend. It started off well enough. I mean, I’ve been in a rough mood all week, what with the g.i. diet, no more sugar from junk food, no junk food for that matter, cutting back carbs (how many pieces of toast do I need anyway?), and eating more veggies and fruit (the diet tells me to use a sweetener but I can’t stand the taste, so I don’t use any): and with the heart monitor for a day, another crick in my neck (where oh where are you cloud bed?), and the horrible headaches from no sugar, it was indeed a weird week. As a side note, I’m pleased to say that I’ve lost 10 pounds in the process. not in a week. But I’m not seeing any changes. Except I’m not as bloated. And I poop twice a day. Yay fibre! So I’m glad that I only have 13 to go.

Regardless.

So Friday I was in an awesomely happy mood. I spent the day by myself. I wrote two amazing chapters of my new book, then I went for a walk with our neurotic dog in the dog park, then picked up the gaffer to go home. Rockstar hubby finished early so I was very happy. Except we had to go to a family function at his house. With people who don’t talk to me. One family member in particular can’t talk to me. I’m ‘unapproachable’. I hate that. I hate being classified like that. Like when I helped organize bring 30 ladies out tree walking, one of them said, ‘oh be on time or she’ll freak out’. That’s not a nice thing to say. It reminds me of being told that to be near me, one has to walk on eggshells. That really cuts.

Regardless.

This family member of rockstar hubby’s, couldn’t tell me that they were angry that I told their child to stop being a tattletale.

Background:

Went to a family function. Gaffer was playing with two other children. One child (the tattletale), came up to me to tell me what gaffer had done wrong. So I went to check it out. Gaffer wasn’t really doing anything wrong. He was upset because the other two wouldn’t play with him. (and that always hurts a mom’s heart, turning her into bear cub mama, when other kids won’t play with her own child) so I said to the child tattletale, he just wants to play with you. Half an hour later, child tattletale comes up to me and says, ‘gaffer broke a necklace’ and I said, ‘so you’re tattling on him’. he said, ‘um, no.’ and the child’s mom was there and she rolled her eyes and said, ‘he’s going through a phase with being a tattletale, we’re working on it’. So I turn to him and say, ‘you know what? You don’t need to be a tattletale. If gaffer is doing something dangerous, then you can tell me, ok?’ and he leaves.

I find out two weeks later from rockstar hubby that the father of tattletale called him to say that when he got home, tattletale child was hiding under the table because he was afraid that daddy would be mad that he tattletaled. Apparently tattletale child was ‘traumatized’ by the event. And could I please not say that to their son anymore. That I need to respect their own parenting skills and to leave it alone.

Huh.

So yah, I got pissed. But for the right reasons. I was pissed off because he couldn’t tell me himself. I got pissed off because the kid’s mother was right there when I said it, and she agreed with me afterwards. I got pissed off because she wasn’t the one telling me that. I got pissed off because if someone is being bad, to my face, I am going to tell them. That’s how you parent with love. I didn’t tell him he had to play with gaffer, I didn’t tell him that he was being mean by excluding him (although I really wanted to), I told him he didn’t need to tattletale, to try and get gaffer in trouble so that gaffer would stop ‘bothering’’ them.

Psh…I didn’t think there would be family politics now. Sigh. Whatever. So at the family function, I spent half an hour in the bathroom reading, barely ate anything because it was all chips and dip. Then I ate a sausage, and I got sick. Oooh was I sick.

For mother’s day, it was lovely. Rockstar hubby gave me a lovely gift card for chapters, gaffer got me body shop bergamont body ‘rinse’ (clean your armpits mommy, they’re stinky!) and the dog got me a set of salt and pepper shakers in the forms of cows. Cows that are so fat, their legs don’t touch the ground because they are sitting on their big pink udders. I love them. At church I got to teach, which involved me feeding them two boxes of crackers and tracing their hands onto paper and colouring them and framing them. Then we came home. A very nice friend gave me a bag of clothes which she didn’t want anymore. That made me happy. They were very new and very beautiful. It wasn’t like someone gave me some crappy castoffs that had missing buttons or holes in the jeans or were just so ugly they got rid of them. So I was tickled pink. Steak and salad supper and half way through ‘catch and release’.

I had an interesting conversation on Saturday with a lady and it super pissed me off. More than the weird relations argument. I was talking to her about kids. She asked me if we were having any more (can we please talk about something else?) and I said, I don’t know. Then I mentioned my huge heart for India. The girls. That maybe that’s where my extra kids will be.. and then I said that if we didn’t have any debt (student loans, cars etc) I’d be begging hubby to pack up with me and move to India to live there and work there. and this lady says, ‘well, it’s so awful over there.’ and I said, I know. And she says,’but it’s a poor country. It’s filthy’. And I said, I know. And she says, ‘but it’s disgusting! There is a garbage truck that comes by daily to pick up dead bodies’. And I’m like, hello? I know! What’s your point? And I almost snapped on her. I wanted to say, yes but what am I going to do? Live in a bubble, safe over here in Canada where no one can hurt me? I’ll just keep buying my tommy pull my finger clothes and buy a bigger house and have garden parties on my new deck? (incidentally I do have a few tommy sh irts but that’s because they were on sale at the salvation army) and I wanted to slap her. It doesn’t matter to me that it’s ugly and scary. I need to be loving little kids. I need to be spreading God’s love. Hello????
Then we got onto a conversation about homeschooling and private school. The gaffer might be going to a lovely private Christian school in the fall and we went to visit it on Thursday. I’m sorry to say that I found absolutely nothing wrong with it, so it makes the idea of homeschooling a lot more unclear. I expressed how I liked how the teachers were involved, that there was a no tolerance policy and they were strict. And I said how important it is to protect our kids for as long as we can, because we need to instill them with the confidence that comes from God, not from peers or the media. I read in dr. james dobson’s book, bringing up boys, that when his dad was a kid, he was severely bullied at school. The teachers would not get involved and nothing would be done so the grandfather picked up the family and moved. That is love. That is showing your kids how important they are. If gaffer was being picked on a lot at a place, I’d move him. keep him safe. I was severely bullied in school, and I was not protected at all. And it’s only by the grace of God that I am safe now. That I am not who I was. But how many people suffer from this? From awful schools? From bad teachers? So she got all, ‘oh the kids need to suck it up. they need to be in the real world to figure it out. ‘ and it made me soooo mad. Why do I keep having these conversations with people? How can someone knowingly send their kids to a school where they are not protected? To schools where there are mean kids, kids who bring guns to schools, who hurt people, who are not regulated? Sigh. I love my son so much that I would move across country for him if I had to/needed to. I think that not enough people put their families first and it makes me so sad.

Ok, I’m getting off the soapbox now.