Category Archives: I love my friends

Movember Madness

Posted on by

Yesterday as I was driving the kids to school, Maneater came on the radio.  You know it’s going to be a great day when Hall and Oates is on the radio! 

Oh oh here she comes.  Watch out, boys, she’ll chew you up!  Oh oh here she comes.  She’s a MANEATER.
Now THAT’s what I call a moustache.  Is it me, or is anyone else relieved that this is the last day of Movember?  Don’t get me wrong: I have a very personal connection to prostate cancer and so I am very happy at the funds and awareness that are raised every Movember, but nevertheless, I will not be unhappy to see clean shaven faces tomorrow.  All those moustaches are just so…startling.  It took me well into the month to get used to seeing men – who I see on a near-daily basis – sporting moustaches of various lengths and thicknesses.  The other day there was a news story on our hurricane-but-not-really-a-hurricane windstorm, and every single man interviewed was sporting a moustache.  I completely lost track of the story, I was so distracted by the moustaches.  I kept wondering if the interviewees were participating in Movember or if they had moustaches all the time.  I kept wondering if the moustaches were charitable, ironic, or earnest in nature.  I couldn’t concentrate at all.
What is it about moustaches?  They have the ability – with the exception of Magnum, P.I. – to make any man look extraordinarily creepy.  They make normal men’s faces into that which would bring to mind the warning “Do not approach”.  They bring to mind “70’s porn star” – although when I noted that recently, a Movember participant asked why and how I would be aware of that comparison, to which I respond get off your high horse.  There’s no porn like 70’s porn, and we all know it.  Also, regardless of porn, didn’t everyone in the 70’s have a moustache?  They were as common as gold medallions nestled in chest hair. 
Look!  Moustache, gold medallion, AND chest hair!  It’s the trifecta!
It’s funny how styles change.  These days, I associate moustaches with seedy criminals and/or a few select members of my extended family.  I’m not anti-facial hair.  I can pretty much get behind most facial hair styles, the exception being a soul patch, but moustaches?  They are the mom jeans of facial hair.

Okay, I’ll grant an exception for this guy.  I’m posting this picture for my mom, who thinks he is the bee’s knees.  What a fabulous daughter I am.  Even if I am now clinically insane from We Need A Little Christmas.

****Thanks to all the guys who participated in Movember, and thanks to all the people who donated to someone brave enough to make themselves look like a person who would make small children cry.  Prostate cancer research is important, and you’ve helped.  Thank you.****

These are a few of my favourite things

Posted on by

Every year, my very lovely friend Beck writes a satirical review of all the items on Oprah’s Favourite Things For The Holidays.  It’s one of MY favourite things, reading her review.  This year, she did not stop there, no, not Beck.  She instead created her very own dream team of bloggers to write about their own favourite things – a Christmas Gift List.  Guess who is on that team?  ME.  So go on over to Beck’s blog and check out what I want for Christmas (and no, I did not say “world peace” or “an end to hunger”.  Those are implied.)

A little note about the beautiful Beck: she is one of the reasons I started this blog.  Way, way back in the day, I was inspired by her very funny, very beautiful, very thought-provoking writing.  I started my blog, very shyly and quietly, and she was the very first person ever to comment on it.  Her support spurred me on, and here we are today.  409 posts and counting.  Beck and I are now friends, even if we are long-distance ones, and one of these days we are going to get drunk on wine together, wear black sweaters, and blog all about it.  xoxo Beck.

Enough mushiness!  Go over to Beck’s and read the gift posts – there are many talented writers over there and I am honoured to be one of them.

Knowing Me, Knowing You, The Time Change Edition

Posted on by

With clock-like consistency, there are two times of the year that get me excessively agitated and stabby, and those times are the “Spring Forward” and “Fall Back” atrocities known as Daylight Saving-related time changes.  I may have mentioned this before.  I’m not going to bore you with the details, but I will say that, as I age, I myself seem to be more affected by this.  For example, I woke up at 3:30 this morning thinking that it was time to head over to the yoga studio.  I think my stomach is currently in danger of digesting itself, and it’s only 11:00.  My brain is a liquidy mess.  I can’t wait until I slip into a coma at 6:30 tonight – after it’s been dark for two hours, and I certainly can’t wait for the excitement of having two highly exhausted children at that time, when we will still need to finish our home reading and tidy up our rooms.  It’s going to be great!

Just pick a fucking time and stick with it, people.  Time change is an antiquated notion.  Let’s move on.

So as my brain liquifies and I sip my fourth cup of coffee, let’s play a game of Knowing Me Knowing You, shall we?  I picked up this meme from my very good non-lesbian-life-partner-she’s-just-a-friend Allison over at Bibliomama.  Play along – it’s fun!

1. What keeps you up late at night?
Oh, ha ha, this is such a funny question!  Nothing.  I have trouble falling asleep very rarely, and when I do it’s due to something ridiculously stupid like the guy who came to one School Council/ Parent Association meeting and raved about busing fees and the school naturalization area, but who actually did not want any involvement with the Parent Association because he is way “too busy”.  That guy irritated me so much I stayed awake until AFTER TEN O’CLOCK.  Travesty.  

2. Do you collect anything?
I have a lot of books, but I’m not sure I would say I collect them.  Clothes?  Yoga wear?  Boots?  At last count I have 10 pairs of black boots, and here is a (partial) look inside my closet:

My yoga clothes – sadly, I am doing laundry right now and so this is much neater and less crammed than usual.  Also note: I have a cowboy hat on my top shelf.  This is what living in Calgary does to you, people.

My sweater “drawer”.

My “drawer” dedicated to t-shirts of the long and short sleeved variety.

So I’m not sure if I can say I have a “collection”, but my husband would say that I have issues with clothing.  Hey, you can never have enough black tops and sweaters, am I right?

3. Are you addicted to Angry Birds?
I barely know what Angry Birds IS.  I have a flip phone.  I don’t even have voice mail on it.

4. What’s your idea of a perfect evening?
At the risk of sounding VERY lame, I love spending the evening on the couch, drinking wine and eating something made with cheese, and watching reruns of NYPD Blue.  Or Jeopardy.  I am so much fun to live with!

5. Are you looking forward to winter?
I live in Calgary.  It’s winter right now.  NO.  I like to be warm.  But at least the winter gives me an excuse to procure more black sweaters and boots. 

Here Comes Santa Claus!

Posted on by

It’s snowing right now, big huge flakes that are sending the city into a panic, traffic-wise, as always happens for the first serious snowfall.  DRIVE SLOW, HOMEY.  I should be more irritated with the snow, but it gives me an excuse to stay home and drink hot beverages, rather than take a trip to the leaf-and-pumpkin recycling depot.  The pumpkins have been sitting on our steps for weeks now.  They are probably disgustingly soft and mouldy, but I do not have the heart to bag them up, so I think I will leave them for my husband tomorrow.  It seems more like – not to be anti-feminist or anything here – a blue job, you know?  I was talking to Allison the other day and we decided that we would be the worst lesbian couple ever, given both our lack of talents in vehicle maintenance and ability to find the fuse box.  The latter is just Allison, I for one know exactly where my fuse box is located.  But I have been known to burst into uncontrollable tears when the “low washer fluid” light has come on.  Sorry, Allison, we are JUST going to be friends.

So instead of bagging up the disgusting pumpkins, I’m drinking a warming cup of tea.  I purchased a package of Yogi brand tea – because I’m pretentious like that – without realizing that there is the added bonus of an inspirational saying on each teabag!  Today’s saying: To love is to live for each other.  Actually, that’s kind of nice.  I can’t really say anything about that.  But yesterday the saying was Let your mind dance with your body.  I think my mind is doing the white-man’s overbite.

On November 1st, I started feeling excessively festive and dug through my drawers until I could find my special green pajamas with reindeer imprinted on.  Then I did some Christmas shopping, culminating with a trip to the post office/ Hallmark store yesterday.  I had to pick up a package anyway, but I thought I would get a head start on my annual Christmas letter.  I asked the man working there if they carried any Christmas stationary.  “WHAT?” he asked, frowning.  I explained to him what I was looking for – printer paper, with a Christmas or winter-like motif.  “No.” he said, shaking his head in a very disapproving way.  “No, we don’t have that.  And I don’t know anyone who would.”  O-kay.  I went back over the conversation in my head, wondering if I had accidentally asked for something completely obscene and inappropriate, like maybe an inflatable Santa Claus complete with erection.  No.  I had just asked for Christmas paper. 

Then I went to pick up my package and asked the woman at the post office counter if I could purchase Christmas stamps.  “Christmas stamps?  No.  They are not AVAILABLE yet.” she said, looking at me like I was maybe the most insane person ever.  I guess she and the other guy were in cahoots?  I don’t know.  People, I was in a Hallmark store.  Three-quarters of the place was filled with Christmas-related items and probably had been for the past three weeks.  I don’t think asking for Christmas stamps was THAT strange.  But maybe it was.  Maybe it was.

"Pa Ingalls Was Such a Massive Dickhead"

Posted on by

Few things, I find, are more offensive and soul-destroying than trying to find parking in the busy Costco lot and then finding some spots, only to discover at the last minute that there are several giant carts stranded in the vacant parking spots, the vacant parking spots that are mere steps from the parking lot cart corral, which is totally devoid of carts.  Quite honestly, it makes me sad for the state of humanity.  Can we not all walk five metres to return our giant Costco carts to the cart corral?  Why?  Why is this an issue?  Are Costco shoppers just completely depleted after their trips and the extra steps are just too much to take?  Does Costco just destroy people’s souls so much that they cannot return their carts to the corral, but instead leave them where they lie and rush home to consume recently purchased extra-large bags of potato chips?

I still managed to return my cart to the corral, although I did feel like my soul was being swallowed when I was in Costco, as usual.  For one thing, I sustained an arm injury while attempting to lift a giant box of San Pellegrino.  The very tender skin of my inner forearm got stuck between two of the boxes, which was very painful and also led to the unfortunate result that I couldn’t actually move one of the boxes, since my arm was painfully stuck.  Moreover, after this debacle, I discovered that Christmas decorations and other assorted Christmas-related items were on display.  On September 7.  As if I didn’t feel like time was fleeting enough.  Not half an hour prior to witnessing this early Christmas display, I had dropped the boys off at school after lunch.  They insisted that they could get to their door by themselves, so I watched as Mark led Jake through the playground, placing his hand so gently on Jake’s shoulder.  And then I cried.  I did not need to see the Christmas display, Costco. 

So I felt a gloom permeate the air as I narrowed my eyes at the Christmas display, but then fortunately remembered the most cheering remark I had heard – possibly the most cheering remark I had heard in my entire life – after my last blog post.  Beck can be credited with what is, most likely, the greatest Little House on the Prairie quote of all time:

“Pa Ingalls was such a massive dickhead.”

I cannot help but feel that she has summarized the entire series quite admirably.  From my friend at Hodgepodge and Strawberries came this fabulous quote about Ma Ingalls:

“His wife was either a laudanum addict or a saint.”

And that is nearly all one needs to know about Little House on the Prairie.  There have been some questions regarding the appropriateness or otherwise of reading these books aloud to small children, and I would say that, despite my sarcasm, they are great reading.  Some things to note that may need editing/ teachable moments/ beforehand preparation:

1) As mentioned before, Pa throws the family into financial ruin by building a fancy house – with glass windows and a stove, my stars! – on credit, to be paid back with the lucrative wheat crop which never materializes.  This right there could be used as a teachable moment given the state of the world’s economy.  Stay in the damn sod dugout, Ingalls family. (On the Banks of Plum Creek)

2) When the Ingalls family moves from Wisconsin to Kansas, they are moving into Indian Territory.  The government is supposed to give them the land that belongs to the Indians, but in the end it doesn’t.  There is a lot of racism, not subtle, in this book.  This could be used as a teachable moment regarding past attitudes towards non-whites in North America.  (Little House on the Prairie)

3) Several older boys plan to beat the new teacher and break up the school, and are supported in this endeavor by their parents, who are bragging to the community that their sons are going to give the teacher a beating of a lifetime.  Previously they beat a teacher so badly that he died of his injuries.  Oh boy!  Manslaughter!  Happily, Mr. Wilder – a gangsta, for sure – provides the new teacher with a bullwhip which he unleashes on those boys.  Revenge, Little House style.  (Farmer Boy)

4) Bored with the quietness of their lives, Pa and his cronies dress up in blackface and put on a show for the whole town.  The townspeople think this is the greatest thing ever.  Much time is spent applauding this showcase of talent.  (Little Town on the Prairie)

5) Laura – who is fifteen and forced to work as a teacher, which she hates, so that her blind sister Mary can attend the College for the Blind – is billeted at a house where the wife is driven insane with hatred for her husband who forced her to move from civilization to some god-forsaken shanty in the middle of the prairie.  This woman pulls a knife on her husband in the middle of the night, threatening to stab everyone in the house right then and there if he doesn’t let her move back to her home.  It’s a little creepy.  (These Happy Golden Years)


Despite all this, the books are definitely worth a read.  Little House in the Big Woods is an especially cozy family book.  After reading it as a child, I kind of wished WE would have a pig slaughter just so my dad could inflate the pig’s bladder and I could play with it like a balloon.  And if six year old me could feel that way, imagine how delightful these stories truly are.  Despite the manslaughter, insanity, racism, and poor economic choices.

Updates and a meme!

Posted on by

I feel like I, perhaps, left my dear readers hanging; I will make amends by updating you on the goings-on in the Boyhouse.

1) Mark has been using an inhaler for a week, and he has NOT COUGHED FOR A WEEK.  Happy coincidence?  Related: I have been sleeping uninterrupted through the night.  Not once have I woken up and listened to coughing for two hours!

2) I found a new esthetician.  I chose this particular place because of the incredibly convenient hours, but they also advertised “pain-free” waxing, of which I was deeply skeptical.  Now, you may or may not believe me, but the waxing was actually PAIN-FREE!  For every ending there is a beginning, I suppose. 

3) Related to aging and fleeting time:
 a) INXS’ “Devil Inside” was played on the local “oldies” station, and
 b) While in the pharmaceutical section of Wal-Mart, I noticed three ladies who appeared to be in their sixties giggling and talking to one another with regards to their favourite product.  The product in question?  Personal lubricant. 

I will leave it at that.

Marilyn over at A Lot of Loves tagged me in a meme, about seven posts that I’ve written.  I love memes!  I especially love them on Friday nights when I have a big glass of wine beside me.  I had to dig through a whole lot of archives, and discovered posts I had forgotten that I had even read!  But here goes!

Most Beautiful Post
This was tricky because I don’t tend to think I write particularly beautiful posts, but I do like this one about happiness with children (plus it has super cute pictures of my kids as babies!), and I also like this one about my very grumpy grandpa.

Most Popular Post
My post that has the most pageviews is this one, and I’m going to guess that its popularity is based on the fact that I reference “mom jeans”.  My second most popular post referenced Scaredy Squirrel, which just goes to show that in order to gain popularity you need name-drop a little. 

Most Controversial Post
I’m not huge on controversy around here, but my post on breastfeeding spurred some discussion.  Breastfeeding = controversy, AM I RIGHT?  If you want to ignite some flames, just bring up breastfeeding!  But I urge you, my dear readers, to always be kind, especially to hormonal and sleep-deprived new mothers who may, years later, still ache about certain memories.

Most Helpful Post
Oooh, this is a tough one.  I don’t feel my posts are particularly helpful OR informative, unless you want to commisserate about weird things.  However, here is my public service announcement about what NOT to say to pregnant women.  I urge you to read the comments. 

Post Whose Success Surprised You
Well, obviously the one about Scaredy Squirrel, because I discussed DEAD SQUIRRELS in my neighbourhood.  Not exactly that interesting.  Kind of revolting, really.  I was also surprised at the success of my varicose-vein stripping update, but I guess it was popular because I used the word “stripping” in the title.  I imagine the people who were googling “stripping” were probably somewhat disappointed when they ended up at my blog.

Post That You Didn’t Feel Got The Attention It Deserved
Hey, I’m just happy to be here.  I’m happy that people read my blog at all.  However, early on in my blogging days, I wrote this about Woodstock, Ann Landers, and Alice Munro, and I really liked it.

Post That You Are Most Proud Of
Honestly, I have no idea.  My favourite posts are always the ones leading up to Christmas, but I found this little gem in the archives.  It’s not exactly fine literature, but it pretty much sums up life in the Boyhouse.

Sloth and the Splash Pad – Summer of Awesome

Posted on by
We have been on summer vacation for one week and we have turned into a slothful people.  This is why I don’t register the kids in any organized activities; we are too busy being completely lazy every morning to get anywhere.  I’m in my sweaty yoga clothes, drinking coffee and accomplishing nothing, until finally showering at 10:00, which sounds pretty benign until I realize I’ve been up for over five hours.  It’s all we can do to get organized enough to leave the house by early afternoon.  Mark has created a game he calls “Left Hook” which involves a chutes and ladders board, the corresponding superhero game pieces, sharks, and death.  This game goes on for hours.  HOURS.  Each morning he sets up the board and the boys are occupied for a very long time.  Jake joins in as well but alternates between Left Hook and his own complicated game that involves aliens, clay, and death.
The weather here has been so sunny and warm that I secretly wonder if I moved without knowing it.  I don’t THINK I did.  When it’s warm like this I have the frantic urge to seize the day and spend every second doing warm-weather activities, like swimming.  Not that I am swimming.  But I’m enjoying watching the kids swim.  I am also defiantly displaying my scarred, scarred legs. 
Outdoor pools are something of a novelty to me, since it is rarely so warm here that one would crave “cooling off” in a pool.  Mostly when it is warm I have the urge to become as hot and sweaty as possible in the hopes that I will store up the heat for when the weather turns.  There are a few outdoor pools here, and we have been enjoying them, by the time I pull myself together and get the kids in their suits and sunscreen.
Yesterday we went to an old favourite, a little wading pool that has been recently turned into a splash pad.  If you’re in the area, you should check it out with the following caveat: the recent refurbishment means that grass sod has been newly laid and so, in the spirit of following the signage to keep off the grass, there is very little space to lay out picnic blankets, although I’m sure that will sort itself out as the summer goes on.
The kids had a great time, despite being disappointed that their friends couldn’t join us due illness.  I managed to snap some super cute pictures; however, I was disappointed to discover that unfortunately I a) didn’t notice the moms in bathing suits standing behind the kids, resulting in mom bums in the background of most of the shots, and b) I don’t know how to photoshop things. 
I used little black stars to mask the moms behind Jake.  I AM CREATIVE.

Mark got soaked and then coughed for an hour. 
Oh, post-pneumonia-infection cough!  When will you leave?

Calgary may not be the prettiest city around, but look at that blue sky!  And look at me, wearing a bathing suit and NOT EVEN CARING ABOUT MY VERY SCARRED LEGS.
*************************************************
As some of you have noticed, I have a new logo!  I love it so much.  My beautiful friend Tracy, over at makemesocial.com made it for me.  She’s creative and fabulous and she sees me every morning at 5:00 am and she LOVES ME ANYWAY.  Those are my feet, by the way!  Thanks Tracy – you’re the best, baby.  xoxo