Category Archives: Fleeting Time

One Size Fits All

Posted on by

For those of you who follow such things, the federal budget contained an intention to legislate an end to the price gap between goods sold in the US and Canada. It’s about time! In this day and age I find it ridiculous to find an online price that’s 30% higher on Canadian websites compared with the same item, from the same corporation, in the US. If this goes through, however, it will be the end of an era.

When I was growing up, the thing to do was cross border shop. I clearly recall driving down to Montana, or sometimes even Washington, to buy back to school clothes. Things were significantly cheaper in the US at that time, and the dollar was about par, and so even with travel costs it was a better deal to shop “across the line”. Not only that but the US was home to many stores and brands that were just not available in Canada. My husband recalls trips down to Washington in the 1970s when he would happily partake in A&W Root Beer, which was not sold in Canada, even though there were A&W restaurants. For me, the item that was shrouded in mystery was the Twinkie.

Twinkies and Hostess Cupcakes were not sold in Canada when I was a kid, but I knew all about them from Saturday morning cartoons and advertisements in Archie comics. They looked amazing and delicious and I clearly recall the first time my mother bought them, on a shopping trip to the States. The anticipation! The excitement! The…anticlimatic feeling when I bit into it and it was just a weird spongy thing with weird cream on the inside. How disappointing. The cupcakes, I thought, were better on account that they had a nice chocolate coating on them, but the Day of the Twinkie Reckoning was the day I realized that not everything lives up to your dreams. When the world never seems to be living up to your dreams, it’s time you started finding out what everything is all about.

A pivotal moment in my life.

The Great Twinkie Incident Of My Childhood did not, however, cure me of coveting exotic items not for sale in Canada, specifically those found in a little chain you might have heard of: Victoria’s Secret. Four years ago, when I finally decided I was ready to travel with the children, we flew to Palm Desert to visit my snowbird parents.

PalmSprings

This photo has nothing to do with the story. It’s just my favourite from that trip. The boys had just gotten off the plane and were amazed to see flowers! and grass! in February! WHAT KIND OF MAGICAL PLACE IS THIS? And look at their little shoes.

 

That trip, my mother and I ditched the kids with my dad and husband, and went shopping. We went to Victoria’s Secret which was everything I had dreamed of, and more. The selection of bras! The gigantic comfortable change rooms complete with disposable panties and t-shirts to test out the bras! The businesslike salesgirls walking around in their black clothing with tape measures around their necks! Prior to this I had always done my bra fitting at the Bay, with older Eastern European women sharply admonishing the fit of my current bras. You are vearing ze vrong bra! Look at zis! Zis is terrible. Terrible fit. You need different. But these girls were gentle and sweet and very earnest in their suggestions. Maybe the Dream Angel? I don’t THINK you’d like the Bombshell.

The best part about that shopping trip, other than all the underwear I brought home, was that it was actually Valentine’s Day when my mom and I were shopping. Have you ever been to Victoria’s Secret on Valentine’s Day? It’s pretty entertaining. There were literally dozens of men, some of them wandering around wide eyed, some standing motionless and overwhelmed in the middle of the store, but most of them lined up to purchase gift cards. Those men were no fools. There are too many (literal) booby traps in buying lingerie as a gift. There are just too many ways that can go badly; gift cards are probably the safest way to go.

So I was happy to cross-border shop for sexy and good-fitting bras and panties, until the magical happened – a store opened up in my city! It opened to huge fanfare but I still didn’t visit it very often, because it was in location very inconvenient to me. But then! To much less fanfare and women walking around with angel wings, a store opened up NOT FIVE MINUTES AWAY FROM ME. Hurray! I received a coupon in the mail for $10 off a bra and off I went.

It was the same great shopping experience, with the same earnest salesgirls. When I got to the counter with my Dream Angel, the cashier asked if I would like the free Valentine’s Day thong panty. I’m not made of stone, OF COURSE I wanted the free Valentine’s Day thong panty. I chose hot pink, as being something exotic and unusual for me, and the girl started to wrap it in tissue. Wait, I said, What size is that? The girl smiled at me kindly and said the thongs were one size fits all. The bees are doing what now? A one size fits all THONG PANTY?

Since then I’ve found out that Hanky Panky – home to, apparently, the world’s most comfortable thong – also sells their thongs as a one size fits all, and I have to say, I cannot wrap my head around this phenomenon. How is it possible? What kind of miracle fabric is this? I can understand how a caftan at Sears can be one size fits all – “fitting” not being synonymous with “looking the same” – but a thong panty? I just cannot understand. I need the physics explained to me.

And yet I got home and tried on the one size fits all thong, and it was the most comfortable pair of underwear I have ever worn. My mind is blown. There are a lot of things I do understand: advanced calculus, visual basic coding, economics, but this is the most mind-bending concept of them all. One size fits all thong underwear. It feels like NASA had a part in it.

FYI for teenaged girls, don’t date the Hall boys.

Posted on by

I’m really glad my ladies’ holidays aren’t coming up anytime soon, because my goodness I am an emotional girl this week; it would be pretty bad if I threw some hormones into the mix. Part of it, maybe, is the fact that my kids are now in the “big kid” section of the school, far away from the office so it’s really hard to just casually saunter past their classrooms and sneak a peek at them, which, looking at it objectively, is probably a good thing because they do not enjoy me sneaking a peek at them. I shouldn’t group them together, really, because Mark doesn’t actually mind. Jake, however, does. “Why did you WAVE at me? I’m supposed to be WORKING, not getting distracted.” Even in lineup in the mornings, I fist bump him and then back the hell off, because that kid does not want any extra attention from his mother, JAY-SUS. If I do attempt a wave while he’s lined up, he raises his chin slightly in what I take to be the world’s smallest head nod in acknowledgement. What is he going to be like as a teenager? A total dick, I’m guessing. I said this to my friend this morning who answered cheerfully, “Well, you always predicted that!” True.

I was grocery shopping yesterday and found myself teary-eyed and verklempt at the sight of young mamas with their babies and toddlers in the produce section. I heard the mamas talking to their little ones in the same way I did, in a previous era, when I had to put lipstick marks into the palms of small hands instead of fist bumping while walking through the compound. This is a lemon. It’s yellow! Look at this pretty red apple. It’s so red and round! Let’s put five in the bag. 1…2…3…4…5…I stared at the banana display for a while, swallowing hard. Thank god no one picked up a cucumber and pretended to tickle their toddler with it because if that had happened I would STILL be curled up on the floor singing Landslide* to myself. And if you see my reflection in a snow covered hill…Fortunately later in the day I found myself buying printer paper in Walmart and witnessing a complete toddler meltdown in the school supply aisle, complete with flopping boneless body and ear-piercing shrieks. I smiled sympathetically at the frazzled young mother and tried not to click my heels in joy as I went to pick up my big kids at the big kid doors at school.

Well, they’re not that big, I guess, since I haven’t yet started writing blog posts about teenage girls and the behavioural standards required to date my sons. Eeee. Can you imagine what kind of mother-in-law that woman will be? Here’s an FYI for teenage girls: do NOT date one of the Hall boys. RUN THE OTHER DIRECTION if one of them asks for your phone number. Do boys still ask for your phone number these days? Or do they just look you up on Facebook? But I digress. Truly, just think how overbearing poor beleaguered Mrs. Hall must be, and I can only guess that this is not something that will improve with time. Girls, if you become a “young Mrs. Hall”, you will be doomed for a life of in-law misery. You will never be able to vacuum often enough, is what I’m saying.

Things are tough for teenage girls these days, what with the striving to be the hottest bitch in this place and the expectation that one must stay up ALL DAMN NIGHT to get lucky. In my day, we just expressed ourselves or Vogued. Speaking of which, last night I was cleaning up the kitchen and Papa Don’t Preach came on. I cranked the volume and sang along; the boys reacted with complete and utter silence. Perhaps they were struck mute with awe? Moments later they went outside where they climbed our big Mayday tree and jumped down repeatedly. I didn’t think my singing was that bad.

*see, Sarah, I think we’re even on the Landslide references

I’ll be making another to-do list after this post.

Posted on by

As I sat down to write this, I realized that this is my 600th post! My gracious, I have had a lot to say. I’ve been writing this since 2008, when the boys were both in preschool and the first day of school looked like this:


And now it looks like this:

And just to be sure you appreciate how much they’ve stretched:


I feel like I should say something emotional and touching about the fleeting nature of time, but damn, I’m feeling like I’ve been flung into a first-day-of-school-suddenly-huge-to-do-list tornado. How did that happen? Just yesterday I curled up on the couch to read a book for hours; currently I’m feeling like a hummingbird on speed. MUST DO ALL THE THINGS IMMEDIATELY.

Speaking of to-do lists, my husband was reading something on personality types, and he hilariously realized, after eleven years of marriage, what “type” I am.

Mr: Wow, you’re really a Type A.

Me: I know.

Mr: You and all your lists. You’re exactly a Type A.

Me: I know.

Mr: No, I mean, you have every trait on this list.

Me: I KNOW.

Mr: “Obsessed with time management”, “rigidly organized”, “want people to get to the point”, “always try to help others”, “impatient”.

Me: I’m not impatient!

Mr: *hysterical laughter*

It’s true, anyway, which is why I’m making lists upon lists about every little thing I have to do over the next six weeks and it seems like a lot right now. It’s the September rush, I guess, and we’re all into it. This happens to me every year, and it’s why I learned after Mark’s kindergarten year that I should say no to being on every single committee.

In any case, the boys are pleased to be back at school. They are in conjoined classrooms, which is nice for them – they can see each other but still be fairly autonomous. They are with the exact opposite teachers that I thought they would be with, but that’s okay; they each have good friends in their classes. So far, so good.

The dog, though. The poor puppy. He’s slumped into his usual back-to-school depression, with the realization that going forward his days are going to be spent exclusively with the least interesting person in the house. When I came home after drop off, he went outside and lay in the sun for a few hours; a squirrel was in our yard and even made it out alive, that’s how depressed he is. Not to worry, if history is any indication of the future, Barkley will perk up soon and find many small animals and/or birds to kill/ eat/ and have me pick up in various forms, crying.

Since it’s my 600th post, I feel like I should do something to show my appreciation to you, my dear readers. Another giveaway, perhaps? I do not know what the prize will be. A Starbucks gift card? Chocolates? An old economics textbook? Kidding, the shipping on that would be murder. To enter this random, prize-to-be-determined giveaway, leave a comment about any of the following: what personality type you are, what topics do you like to read about on this blog, do you prefer sweet things or salty things, or just say hi! Name to be drawn September 13! Friday the 13th….spooooookyyyy. xoxo

A peek inside my house, or the snowball effect of cleaning.

Posted on by

You know when you have one of those days where you wake up totally normal, and you seem totally normal, and you go to do a little housecleaning like a normal person – bathroom cleaning here, a little dusting there, ooh, maybe should sweep the floor – and then suddenly you become an obsessive cleaning machine who starts rearranging the children’s shelving units amd scouring bootracks and the mudroom floor on your hands and knees? I had one of those days yesterday. But look how great Mark’s shelves look:

It feels like I should have taken a “before” picture just to illustrate the impact. The impact is immense! I was worried that Mark was going to be a future star of one of those hoarding reality shows, but it turns out he has little to no emotional attachment to anything obtained prior to age seven. He was just too lazy to purge craft items, Kinder surprises, and strange Lego creations from said era. The number of dried out, unused miniature Play-Doh containers obtained from years of trick-or-treating at earnest households was enormous. I felt gloomy as I chipped out the Play-Doh to recycle the tiny containers like the earnest hausfrau I am.

I really should have taken a “before” photo because prior to this rearranging all of these were on the floor:

 
It was getting a little hard to sweep around all that Lego, and I was especially worried I would break something and have to fix it, and as we all know, building Lego is not my forte. I had to fix something off of Jake’s Palpatine’s Arrest and I nearly had a nervous breakdown over it. It seemed, at the time, like so much was on the line, besides putting on a movable door.
 
 

There’s Jake’s collection, including the giant Muk-Muk-Atron that is the colourful creation in the background, made yesterday with the discovery in Mark’s room of a basketful of smaller creations, made years ago and then forgotten.

In the interest of sibling fairness, here is a photo of Jake’s fairly neat shelves. Note that his room is painted orange and blue. Home decor note: orange is a bitch to paint.

Besides obsessively cleaning, I did some gardening and the boys played in the sprinkler. I’ve got some pretty blooms happening right now:

This is the daylily that, like love, will go on. About twelve years ago my husband accidentally sprayed it with weed killer, seven years ago we paved over the flower bed with stamped concrete, and somehow it has grown into a four foot long patch of daylilies with dozens of blooms. Lazarus in flower form, if you will. Isn’t it pretty?

My much-loved and pampered clematis, which is blooming and filling up the entire trellis.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine. Most of the other flowers are done their blooming, with the exception of the annuals, of course, and the blue sage and yarrow which apparently NEVER stop blooming. The leaves on my front Mayday are starting to turn, already. I’m starting to feel a bit glum that summer is almost gone (cue Doors music) and that the kids are back to school in twelve – TWELVE – days. Once they’re back I’m going to be thrilled to have a quiet house in which to get ‘er dun, but I’m going to miss those crazy kids and their constant chatter about Animal Jam and Star Wars.

****************************************************

The winner of the giveaway was Kat! Congratulations Kat, and thanks everybody for playing along! The next giveaway will be…whenever I think of one!

The Opposite Of Extreme Makeovers, and a Giveaway!

Posted on by

Lawsy, I’ve been busy – relatively speaking – since returning from vacation. It’s amazing how much piles up after an eight-day hiatus from the homefront. I’ve been multi-tasking like a motherfucking riot; taking the boys to the playground while mentally composing posts, responding to constant “fun facts” about animals while making 16 litres of tomato sauce, preparing frantically for my solo trip to Saskatchewan while photographing plates of tomato-based dishes. Did I mention I have a whole lot of tomatoes in my possession? My mother-in-law supplied me with “a few” tomatoes; “a few” meaning “fifteen pounds”. It’s a good problem to have, all these sweet and delicious tomatoes.

Although it’s been warm here the past few days, there is a slight change in the air and I realized there are only three more weeks of summer vacation left! Cherish every moment goddammit. In addition to cherishing moments and tomato preparation, I am also beginning my usual August routine of thinking about back-to-school items and festive things like snowsuits and boots. The children are sweltering as I force them to put on their boots and mittens to ascertain fit and what is needed for the imminent winter. In Calgary, you never know. WINTER IS IMMINENT PEOPLE. Cue music of doom; perhaps an instrumental version of Patio Lanterns or maybe The Devil Came Down To Georgia.

The music of doom was also playing in my mind as I found myself in the mall at 5:00 on Saturday night. Unfortunately earlier in the day I was getting my old grey mare roots coloured, necessitating the late-afternoon mall shop, which is – as we all know – is the most spirit-crushing time to attend to all your shopping needs. Why is that? Why are there so many crowds, screaming children, rude people, and despondent employees at that time? And why do I never learn? There were two lights at the end of this tunnel of consumerism: Sport Chek had sales on running shoes, which I liked since we had to buy the boys each two pairs, and we had dinner at the food court, which is the kids’ favourite, as I have undoubtedly mentioned before. A teenage girl and her boyfriend sat at the table next to us, along with this cute fellow:

Speaking of the old grey mare and giant orange bears, I decided that I was going to make a dramatic change in my hair colour, and so I took this photo to my hair therapist, who looked at me quizzically. “Okay,” she said, “But it’s kind of the colour you already have. It’s pretty similar.”  No no! I said cheerfully, explaining that I wanted something more coppery. She made a change to my formulation, coloured my hair, and…it’s marginally different. Dramatic overhaul fail.  It looks pretty much exactly like this photo, taken poolside last week, pre-colour. Note: my dad makes this exact same face when he’s thinking, leading me to believe once again that I am an actual younger, female, and artificially red-haired version of him. Thanks for the grey hair genes, Dad!

It’s giveaway time! Prize yet to be determined but sure to be awesome. Or at least kind of fun. Leave a comment and let me know what you’re up to this August. Or what colour your hair is. Or at what point in the year do you start thinking about snowboots? Ah, who am I kidding – leave a comment about anything and I’ll enter you in the draw. Name to be drawn August 22!

Summer, So Far

Posted on by

Because of all the flood craziness around here, it feels like it’s been months since the kids were in school, when in reality it’s only been, officially, four days. It has been sunny, warm, and dry here which I am hoping will expedite the death of the billions of gargantuan mosquitoes in the city. The mosquito situation was crazy before the flooding; now they are epic. They seem to really love my bootiliciousness since they bite right through the seat and back pockets of my jeans. Forget the wisdom of wearing long sleeved shirts and pants to avoid getting bitten; these babies are so desperate for my apparently super succulent blood they go through sweaters and thick denim. My friend Nan mentioned that mosquitoes are attracted to dark colours – specifically black – which explains things somewhat. In other words, I need a whole new wardrobe. Watch for my new look, which will consist of pale pink items bought from Northern Reflections.

We headed up to my parents’ lakeside place this weekend, and on the way I saw a billboard advertising the World Plowing Championship. Before you think this is something pornographic, let me hasten to assure you that the World Plowing Championship involves tractors and other farm machinery. I immediately imagined something akin to the tractor scene in Footloose, involving non-Kevin-Bacon-like individuals. I wonder who are the winners of past World Plowing Championships and if that title is something that grants the holder of special privileges. Very special privileges, if you know what I’m talking about. I imagine this ratchets up the datability of the title holder in certain circles.

We had a fantastic weekend at my parents’, and now we are all somewhat petulant about being back in the city. My dad said something this weekend that struck me as fairly accurate, in terms of travelling with children: kids pretty much enjoy any holiday, wherever such holiday takes place. The majority of my childhood summers were spent a) visiting relatives in southeastern Saskatchewan, and b) attending Bible Camp. Neither of those things may sound all that thrilling, but I always looked forward to them with great anticipation and enjoyed them thoroughly. Spending my days with my cousins in the outdoor swimming pool that had myriad dead bugs floating in it, being evacuated due to severe prairie thunderstorms, were nothing except fun. Playing in the ice-cold lake and making crafts out of crosses and going to chapel morning and night, that was the height of summer camp enjoyment for me.

I think of my own lucky, lucky children and wonder what kind of summertime memories they will have. I wonder if they will remember the hours spent playing with a fishing rod with a stick tied to its line, christened “Sticky”, and how they made up a game and enormous backstory for humble Sticky. I wonder if they will remember how we spent our first day of summer vacation in the pool and I neglected to reapply sunscreen and they got their first (mild, I hasten to say) sunburns. I wonder if they will remember how I frantically sent their father out to drive into town to buy the cortisone cream that I forgot to pack when it was evident one of my children was having a weird allergic reaction to…something…and was covered with angry, raised red hives, and then their father got stuck in one of those severe prairie thunderstorms, unable to see the road in front of him, hail pelting the car. I wonder if they will remember the water gun fights, the trips to town with Grandma and Grandpa for ice cream, the small-town Rotary Club Canada Day celebrations. It occurred to me today that it might not be much longer that they want to play in those bouncy structured supervised by the glummest looking teenagers ever – in fact, one day perhaps they will be those downtrodden looking teenagers telling kids to slide down feet first. It’s hard to imagine.

It’s the end of the school year as we know it (and I feel fine)

Posted on by

Hello there! It feels like a long time since I’ve posted, so I’m hopping right back in the saddle. Things have been busy around here. I’ve oscillated from overwhelming love for the city and all the generous and kind people in it, and overwhelming despair that it will never be enough, no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to help. It’s a silly feeling because of course change is the sum effort of individuals, and every little bit matters, and with that attitude I bake more cookies and muffins, buy more diapers, offer to do laundry, etc., etc. Things are improving, but it’s taking time, of course.

Because of the flood school was cancelled until today, which is a half day merely to say goodbye, clean out desks, and pick up report cards. It was very strange to go back to school today; almost as strange as not being in school for four days just before summer vacation.

 
 
As usual at the end of the school year I’m a little verklempt at the thought that they are now FINISHED another grade, in this case Grade Two and Three. On the one hand, it feels like all the awesomeness of having older kids, who I am closer and closer to launching into the great big world, and I feel like I’m doing well with preparing them for that. On the other hand, time makes you bolder, children get older, I’m getting older tooooooooo….
 
A while back I read this fantastic post by my friend Swistle that really summarized how I feel. It’s ALWAYS the Best and Worst of Times is extremely apt when talking about children, right? There has been some discussion lately about favourite ages and least-favourite ages and I can say, firmly, that I don’t have a favourite or least favourite. Part of this is because I don’t remember the stages very well. I think this is due, in part at least, to extreme sleep deprivation over the years 2004-2010. You would think that such sleep deprivation would lead me to say that those years were not great, but you would be wrong. Such memory lapses means that I can be like one of those sweet old ladies who only remember nice things and not the horrible ones. Sure, there were gross diaper blow outs and incessant crying and no sleep and terrible worries about introducing vegetables before fruits and would that ruin their eating for the rest of their life OMG he is trying to eat playground gravel. But there was also this:
 
 
 

And this

 
Also this
 
 


Actually, that last picture reminds me of the baby screaming while I tried to bathe him and the very young toddler falling off the stool while trying to help and everyone crying and…well…I like my biggish kids very much.

In any case, we can’t stop time so we may as well enjoy it! Here’s to another great summer!