Happy New Year

Two days after Christmas, my baby gave to me a fever of a hundred and one.  Unfortunately, I will be ringing in the New Year with my couch, my housecoat and a nice hot cup of tea (and ringing in my ears).  I have missed three days of work, although I did go in one night, just to leave half way through.  I haven't eaten anything other than pasta or soup for four days because my throat is so unbelievably sore.  I dress in layers (like 5 of them...) most of the time due to the chills, although strip down when the fever spikes.  I can't remember the last time I was this sick.  And I'm such a baby when I'm sick.  I wimper.  I whine.  I groan.

This is not really how I planned to spend my New Year, although I didn't really have any plans at all. 

How are you planning to ring in the New Year?

Q can't wait to see the 'ball' drop at midnight.  I think he's thinking it's going to be much more spectacular than it actually is...

I can't wait for my bed.

Happy New Year.  Here's hoping that 2011 is fabulous for us all.

'Q'-isms

Merry Christmas, to my Blogger friends!  From Juba, Sudan to Calgary, Canada and Kerala, India to (the other) Vancouver, USA may you all be blessed with the true spirit of Christmas, with peace and with joy.

Yesterday, Q and Uncle Steve went to do a little last minute Christmas shopping so Mommy could get a couple hours nap in after working all night long.  Before they left, I gave Q ten dollars in case he got hungry or thirsty along the way and a ten minute lecture on what to do if he and Uncle Steve got separated while shopping on Christmas Eve.  I'm usually procrastinator of the year, I know what malls are like on Christmas Eve, and I can freely admit this because I know my brother doesn't read my blog (hahaha) but I was having a little panic attack as the drove off. 

Anyways, a few hours later they both arrived home safely.  They were showing me what they had picked out for Nana, and Uncle Steve (hereafter referred to as US) told me that Q had given his $10.00 to put towards the gift.  I looked a Q, who was stoically staring ahead, and said:

Me:  Awwww, honey!  You didn't use the money on yourself?  You put it towards Nana's present?  That is so thoughtful of you.

He looks directly at Uncle Steve and says, "No, I didn't."

US:  Yes, you did.  You gave me the money in the store, remember?

Q:  Ya, and you took it.

US:  Yes, I did.  And I put it towards Nana's present.

Q:  No, you didn't.  You put it in your wallet.  I saw you.

US:  That's because I paid with my debit card.

Q:  Oh.  So what are you going to do with the money I gave you then?

After a few minutes of trying to explain the concept of debit cards and cash (Q thinks there is an endless supply of money in my bank account.  Sadly, often times I do as well...) we still couldn't convince Q that the money he had so generously given up was being put towards Nana's present.  Poor little guy still thinks Uncle Steve stole his money in plain day for all to see.

Christmas can be confusing for a kid:

Q:  What's Mistletoe, Mommy?  Why would people kiss under it?

Q:  What's a Winter Wonderland, Nana?

Q:  Mommy, Santa forgot to take the price tag off this one!

I never actually remember believing in Santa.  I think I was always way too practical for that.  I love Q's innocence and that he believes so wholeheartedly.  However, it is exhausting staying on top of things, especially with a super observant little guy.  Different wrapping paper (and then hiding the evidence), different gift tags, different hand writing, remembering to take the price tags off.

Hmmm, maybe I should go take another look before he comes home from his dads...

T'was the Night/Early Morning Before the Night Before

Oh...come on...it's funny...

On the day before Christmas, my employees gave to me:


Pearl Drop Earrings
An Engraved Key Chain
Cookies just for Q
SJP Perfume
Chocolate Cranberry squares

A *Starbucks* Card

Butter Pecan Tarts
Yummy Samosa’s
Macadamia Cookies
Homemade Shortbread
A Secret Santa Present

And they all stayed awake for 8 hours (spoke too soon...bugger, it totally rhymed too……)

Only three more business days and I will be moving to a new building, with new employees. Every day since I accepted the transfer, I have questioned whether or not it was a good move.

Remember how afraid I was that no one would like me here? How I wouldn’t learn the job fast enough? How I wouldn’t get enough sleep? Well, the one valid worry was the sleep, and I wonder if that’s enough of a reason to solidify a whole decision. The employees in my section have over 300 years combined experience. Do you know what that means for a Supervisor? It means that I have to do very little to manage the process, because it’s a huge insult telling a person who’s been with the company longer than I’ve been alive how to do their job. There’s always one in every crowd, so I have to tell one or two what to do, but mostly my job here consists of managing the people. This really is a good thing for me, because I am a people manager, process smocess I always say. After a super stressful (in a good way, though) job before this one, it’s been nice to sit back and erm….work very, very hard, as always…(phew! Nice recovery, huh?)

And I didn’t know how I’d get along with the other supervisors on this shift, either. I was surprised to find out that the majority of us are the same age with young children, so we always had something to talk about. The pretty supervisor I share my *office* (okay, my office is two desks behind a bright yellow railing, whatever. It’s my *virtual office*) well, he’s just so funny. We laugh and laugh, sometimes so hard that tears are streaming down our faces and our tummy’s hurt. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.

Staying here wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, it wouldn’t be bad at all. There’s even the off chance that I could run into my old employees and then I don’t feel homesick for them. One or two (or five or ten) really stand as a testament to how often we misjudge people, how much people can change when given the opportunity, and how being part of a motley crew just isn’t that bad at all. Before I went to the dock, I was told that “those guys” were scary and I wouldn’t like them at all.

I’m reminded that all my fears about my new job in the new building are completely ridiculous and unfounded. Quite honestly, I’m more afraid of how I’ll find the front door than I am about my new employees. Seriously, I googled the new building, so that I would know where it was, and it’s fricken huge, I don’t know how I’m going to find my way to the bathroom, let alone my new work area. That’s the only real thing I’m worrying about right now…which probably isn’t even “real” because I’m sure they have signs with arrows….right?

I think we totally undervalue the importance of a good night’s sleep. We really do. It’s horrible waking up tired every single day, and day dreaming about your pillow and your duvet. I’m grumpy all the time (poor Q), and I snap at the most ridiculous things. Sometimes, I just put my head in my hands because I’m so tired, I don’t know what to do. Do I get the Maxi’s with wings or without? You laugh, but I’m so tired, I can’t make a decision to save my life. Paper or plastic? Good thing they don’t as that anymore…but now it’s Bag or No Bag? Here’s a little tip, cashiers around the world: If I have more than 4 items, I’m gonna need a bag.

I might not have as much time with Q, going to days. Someone will have to drop him off and pick him up from school most days, but I truly believe that the quality of time that we have together will be so much better. Right now, I’m “not any fun” and “boring” – hopefully come the New Year, I’ll be “lotsa fun” and “so not boring” because let’s face it…the kid is only 6. If I’m getting eye rolls and “not any fun’s” now…I can’t even imagine what 12 is going to be like.

The gift of acceptance...knowing that you don't know what's before you, but being okay with that.  I think that's what I've learned most this year at work.  In addition to all the tangible gifts I mentioned above, I also received a hand shake, a hug, and the Christmas card I gave one of my employees'...well, it has a spot on his Christmas Tree.  That is a place of honour, if I do say so myself.

What gifts have you received, tangible or otherwise, this Christmas?

Deja Vu

You know that movie “Groundhog Day” with Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell? Well, I will let you in on a little secret. That movie is my life. True story.

Every morning at 7:53am, we run for the elevator (hey I only get paid for 8 hours, I’m only gonna work for 8 hours. They want me here before my shift starts, well…), I get into my car and every morning, the clock reads 7:58…every single morning. Two days ago, I got to the intersection at Oak and 41st and the exact same bus that was sitting there the day before was there with an advertisement for Jack FM that says “keep on rockin’ me baby” across the back. I see the same Honda Element every morning, with this funky plaid paint job. There is always the one car turning left that I am stuck behind, because every other car was in the right lane, and going the speed limit (I think we’ve already discussed my speed/road rage issues).

My every night starts with me hitting the snooze button at least 5 times. I purposely set it half an hour early just so that I can hit the snooze button. I used to think I wasn’t a good morning person, but I’ve since realized that I’m not a good waker-upper. It takes me a good hour to shake the cob webs out of this noggin – and that’s with coffee.

Point is that it’s pretty hard to get out of a rut when your whole life is a rut. Did you know that the definition of *insane* is doing the same thing over and over and over and expecting a different result? That runs shivers down my spine. About the only excitement I have in my life right now is what pair of earrings I’m going to wear to work.

Seriously, what is there? I can’t smoke for obvious reasons, I know. But still, it was always something to look forward to. I haven’t been able to look forward to a cigarette for 8 ½ weeks now. In an attempt to not gain another 30 lbs from not smoking, I also cannot eat excess amounts of chocolate…also something to look forward to that I can no longer look forward to. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost almost 10 lbs this time around, although that’s not confirmed. Drinking is nice, but it’s just a little loser-ish to drink alone all the time and not quite as much fun, either. And the last time I went on a date was sometime in 2009 and that one doesn’t even count, ‘cause I’m pretty sure he was high and doesn’t remember any of it anyways.

Normally, I’m one to look at all the above and think, “Wow, her glass is half empty!” but instead (and because it’s me, and not someone else…) I prefer to think, “Wow, what will power that girl has!” Seriously, the last year has been a lesson in will power. No smoking, no over-eating, no married men (no men at all, to be clear). I’m waiting around for the healthy food, not the junk (most of the time, ahem….did you know McDonald’s has salads now? Very nice, indeed, but I’ve heard they’ve got more fat and more calories than their burgers…I just feel so much healthier eating lettuce than beef…). Everything in moderation, I always (never) say.

I’m being much pickier with the men too. Hmmm, maybe *picky* isn’t the right word. I mean, so what if they’ve only got four toes on their left foot (ewww!) or one eye is a little lazy, I’m looking for a manly man - one who knows how to take care of a woman – although, that’s really a fine line…being attentive, but not a scary stalker or a controlling ass. But the task of finding this man is like gardening – well, if you’re gardening in my flower beds - a whole hell of a lot of weeds and not many flowers. Especially when I’ve been single for 4 years (*gasp* this month - four years). I think I’m allowed to be a little picky, I’ve been waiting long enough.

Hopefully, next year will be filled with less cravings, lots of healthy food, and one good man.

Cross your fingers for me.

And your toes.

Transaction Not Approved

After work this morning, I decided to go shopping.  I knew that if I went home and straight to bed, I would lie awake in bed thinking, "Oh, I need to go here to get this and there to get that."  I was being proactive.  Then, I reasoned, I could go home and sleep like a baby knowing that everything I needed to do was done. 

Ya.  It didn't work.

I would kill for a smoke right now.

First of all, when I'm tired I'm not the most decisive person ever.  I ended up wandering around aimlessly, picking things up, carrying them around, then putting them back and picking something else up.  For an hour.  Finally, I find what I *think* I'm looking for and stand in line.  But when I try to pay, my bank card won't work. It says 'Transaction Not Completed' which to me means that there's a missed connection somewhere, but to the cashier, it means, "Oh, your card has been declined," really loud, so everyone can hear.  I'm like, "No.  It means that the transaction wasn't completed."  And she replies, "Ya, they couldn't complete the transaction, because there isn't enough money in your account."  Blasted, I'm in my uniform...you know, because I've just come from work...so I can't get all up in her face, but boy oh boy, I was really super tempted.  So I calmly leave, go to the bank and take out the cash, no problem-o. 

Next, I stop to pick up a remote control car for Q from my dad and it's on sale, so I'm super stoked.  Go to pay for it with my card that is now working (right?) and this time it decides that I've 'Exceeded Daily Limit'.  Of course, of course I have.  I nearly scream at the cashier, "NO I HAVEN'T!!!!  I HAVEN'T!!!!!!"  But instead, I calmly smile and say, "Okay, I'll just come back later.  I must be having a problem with my card."

Here I am... I've just wasted two hours that I could have spent sleeping.  And I just checked my bank account.  Absolutely nothing is wrong with my card.  There is money in there, just like I knew there would be.  I have not exceeded my daily limit.  Ugh.  I want a cigarette so bad...

It's been almost two months, FYI.  On Saturday, I will be two months smoke free.  How is it possible that I could still really, really, really want one?  Maybe I should go to bed.  You can't crave a ciggie when you're sleeping, can you? 

That is, if I can sleep.  I'll probably just lie awake, thinking of all the things I *still* need to do.

Has Panic Set in Yet?

On the third day of Christmas, the company gave to me sixty bucks an hour to supervise. Well, here we are folks…the busiest time of the year at the post office. My employees are all whistling away (I finally yelled, “If YOU’RE ALL GOING TO WHISTLE, AT LEAST WHISTLE THE SAME SONG!” Miraculously, the whistling stopped.) No one has fallen asleep, probably because of the incessant whistling. And in a crazy twist of fate, it’s me that’s trying to stay awake. If you’re like most people in the world, you’ve sent off your Christmas cards and gifts to all your loved ones around the world (complete with correct postage, of course). If you’re like me…you’re utterly shocked to find out there are only 12 days and 19 hours until Christmas.

How did this happen?  I'm NOT ready.  At all.

Here is an interesting little tidbit of trivia for you...  If you have relatives in South America, you should have sent them their Christmas card by November 29, and their parcels by December 1. Have no fear though, because for a small fortune, you still have until December 17 to get them there. If your relatives live in Africa, you have until Wednesday. Now, I’m not going to lie. You’ll probably have to sell your internal organs on the black market in order to afford it, but that’s *somebody’s* fault for not planning ahead.

Would you like some little tidbits on how to get your mail safely (and timely) from point A to point B? If not, stop reading here.

• Print legibly. It doesn’t matter how pretty that silver pen looks with your calligraphy writing and a snow flake dotting your eye (btw..something I totally would have done pre-post office...), if our machines can’t read it, it will sit for days until we can sort it manually.

• Make Sure the Address is Correct. Seems pretty standard, right? WRONG. We at the post office, are not mind readers (although many of my employees think they are…) Every part of the address is important, so put every part of the address in. The postal code/zip code is probably the most important part of the address, so make sure it’s there and make sure it’s clear.

• Put a Stamp on it. One woman ran out of stamps, so she taped 54 cents to the envelope. This is not okay.

• Do Not Send Cash. Yup…people still do this for reasons I will never understand. No, we're not going to steal it, but chances are yours will be the one card that gets snagged as you put it in the letterbox, run over by a semi truck, and ripped to shreds by a rabid dog that just attacked your mailman. A cheque you can cancel, a $20 bill is gone forever.

• Musical Cards SUCK. Last week, in addition to the humming and whistling, I had to listen to “Jingle Bells” for 8 hours because the card was malfunctioning and just kept playing over and over and over. If you really want to play Jingle Bells for your grandson this holiday season, call him and sing it to him over the phone.

• Give us Time. We’re human too, you know. We make mistakes. One letter going from Vancouver, BC to Vancouver, BC ended up bouncing from one part of the post office to another for 10 days before we actually got it out. It was just a comedy of errors, what can I say? It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Do you really want Great Aunt Martha to think you forgot her this holiday season? No, I didn’t think so.  Do as I say, and not as I do.  I have an *in* at the post office, so *fingers crossed* my Christmas cards won't get lost when I send them on Monday (or Tuesday...)

Okay, so any further questions? Check out this link…

http://www.canadapost.ca/cpo/mc/personal/holiday/default.jsf

The Tree

After two (!) trips to Wal-Mart for lights that work - grrrr...talk about frustration...what is it about Christmas lights that refuse to work? They've been sitting in a box all year.  They worked last year.  How do they not work this year?  And by the way...putting the lights on the tree is totally the man's job.  Wait...where was I?  Oh ya,  here's the finished product.

And here's a pic of the freak snow storm we experienced last week...

No google images here.  It's all me.  I know, right?  I should quit my day job and maybe take up photography.

Of Course Santa's Real...duh, He's Online...

We’re all busy. We all have gifts to buy and wrap, cards to mail, parties to host. On top of all that, we have the children to think of. Sometimes, Mommy just needs a break. 20 minutes to sit and enjoy a hot cup of coffee (or tea…or brandy…whatever - I don’t judge). Here are a few Christmas themed techie ways to entertain the little loves. Q has tried some of them and loves them. Plus, it’s educational…’cuz they’re on the computer and everything, and I’m all about educating our children…especially if it means I get 10 minutes more to myself. But seriously, it’s almost 2011…computers are everywhere. It’s important that our kids learn how to use them early.

My dad sent Q an e-mail message from Santa. This is probably one of the coolest things I have ever seen. Santa starts by welcoming your child, by name and then shows them around North Pole HQ. He throws in a reference to the beloved air hockey table (geez, now we’re totally screwed if *Santa* doesn’t deliver) and tells Q he needs to work extra hard at his reading!! Score! Q literally ran to bed tonight to read his story, and he did a pretty fine job, if I do say so. He got 100% on his spelling test today, too. Woot woot! I totally wish I could loom the Santa threat over him 365 days a year, because the tooth fairy doesn’t have the same pull. My dad sent it from http://www.portablenorthpole.ca/ although I’ve found that http://www.magicsanta.ca/ does the same thing. Best of all…free!!! Well, that and we had some bonding time while watching it together.

One of my *former* employees and a *current* friend sent us an Advent Calendar that you download to your computer. Every day, you click on the new day, and a beautiful Christmas scene pops up. Maybe you’ve heard of Jacquie Lawson’s artwork? I don’t know, but check it out at http://www.jacquielawson.com/. The icon for the calendar is this beautiful snow globe. The cost is minimal, and you can still send it (or download it yourself) now, because it’s retroactive. Q looks forward to each day’s new scene.

Have you ever elf’d yourself? I know, it sounds a) painful or b) dirty, but fortunately (or unfortunately) it’s neither. My brother sent this to us last year – he photoshopped my head, my mom’s head, Q’s head and his on these elves doing a Christmas Hoe-down. We laughed so hard, we cried. You can do a free version, or pay a bit and get the deluxe videos. It’s all here, folks at… http://www.elfyourself.com/.

On Christmas Eve, Q and I go to http://www.noradsanta.org/ and track Santa’s sleigh. It’s super exciting for Q to see where *Santa* is and how soon until he’ll be at our home. Last year, when he saw Santa was an hour away, he went to bed so that he wouldn’t be awake when he arrived. I’ve never seen him jump in bed so fast. You can click on different cities around the world and see *actual* footage of Santa delivering presents to all the good girls and boys.  If you go there now, you’ll find a count down already and your child can take a look at Santa’s village.

I bet my parents are wishing they had this stuff when I was a kid. Then my dad wouldn’t have had to climb on the roof and jump around pretending to be the reindeer, and my mom wouldn’t have had to eat 15 cookies and two glasses of milk (Santa’s a big guy…) Nah, to be honest with ya, I can’t ever remember believing in Santa. I remember pretending to believe, so the presents were still waiting for me under the tree…

Now, go enjoy your coffee while it’s still hot. The kids are good for at least another 15 minutes.

You’re welcome.

Again…

Mmmmmm, Turtle Doves Sound Yummy...

On the second day of Christmas, the company gave to me…employees that actually work. I know it’s often the little things in life that make us happy, isn’t it? Every year about this time, we hire employees just to work the Christmas rush. If they do well and impress us during the holiday season, then we invite them to come to work when volumes get high during the year (ie: tax time, back to school). If they still seem eager to work, about 5-10 years down the line, we offer them part time work. By the time they’re working full time, they’re crazy just like the rest of us. Anyways, they don’t know that yet, so they work really super hard. Here are some of the things they don’t do...

1. Hum. One of the employees who sits roughly ten feet from me hums. All. The. Time. And it sounds like old hymns – just like the ones they used to sing down south while picking cotton. I know you’re laughing. Try listening to it for 8 hours a day.

2. Whistle. Another employee whistles for 8 hours a day. I have this thing about whistling: The only person who enjoys whistling is the person who’s whistling. That means that everyone around them is not enjoying it. Christmas carols, commercial tunes, you name it…this guy whistles it. And he stops every time I get near, so I can’t confirm it’s him – ergo I can’t do anything about it.

3. Disappear. I have this one employee (who has a cane…this will become relevant in a mo’) who is at her station one second and the very next one, she is gone. Gone. I turn my head for a second and then have to spend the next 20 minutes looking for her. I’ve moved her to where I can see her from my desk.  I caught her once, waddling away just like a penguin.  You know where I found her?  In the gym.

4. Look Busy. Some employees work harder at looking like they’re busy. If only they actually were….

5. Cry. Well, they might cry when they get home. But at least they wait til they leave work. One gal cried her whole shift yesterday because she didn’t like where I made her work. Geez, if I did that…I’d be crying 8 hours a day/ 40 hours a week.

6. Sleep. When the hummer isn’t humming…she’s sleeping. It really sucks when they fall off their chair while sleeping because that means a whole heckuva lot of paperwork for me. This one employee falls asleep standing up. Now, I’ve been given the gift of ‘sleep’, but I could never, ever fall asleep while at work standing up.

7. Climb. I caught an employee climbing on company property last night, trying to adjust a fan. Now, to be honest, I don’t really care except….if he falls, again…a whole lotta paperwork for me. And then I get the, “you saw him standing on the table and didn’t do anything?” Hello? We’re all adults here.

9.  Fake Illnesses.  Again, I can't prove it...but come on, people.  Do you not understand the paperwork involved in faking illnesses?  It's ridiculous.  I know it gets you insane amounts of time off work, but most of you have 7 weeks anyways.  Do you really need more than 7 weeks off in a year? 

8. Whine and Complain About EVERYTHING. Okay, we all get paid a lot more money than we’re worth to do absolutely mundane work. Suck it up and deal. It’s not my fault you’re miserable. Do something about it. Just don’t complain to me. Okay? Okay.

Nope. My casuals work. As we speak, they’re all working hard sorting mail. No one’s asleep, no one is falling off their chair (they don't even get chairs).  Some of them don’t even know where the restrooms are located. I think we do that on purpose so they keep working. I mean, if they ask, we’ll tell them…

p.s. The whistling just started. I can’t even make out the tune…

There's no Partridge in this Pear Tree...

On the first day of Christmas, the company gave to me...a transfer to VPDC.  Doesn't it have a nice ring to it?  In the new year, I am the proud owner of a day shift supervisory position in our parcel hub.  Coincidentally, the parcel hub is 10 minutes from my home.  Do you know what this means?  Do you?  Do you?  It means no more hour and a half commutes to work, it means no more working through the night when normal people are sleeping.  It means having a (dramatic pause) life!  Well, to be accurate, as much of a life as I make for myself...but at least I'll have a normal schedule.  This is the first time, basically in my career, where I'll be working a normal 9-5 (or 7:45-3:45).  No more shift work, no more!  Take that, shift work, I say.

I think the most rewarding thing about being a supervisor is having some one else do all the work, while I get all the credit.  Wow.  I can't even say that tongue in cheek without feeling absolutely horrible.  It's not true.  It's funny, but it's not true.  It just happened to be a fabulous segue into this....

I've done all your Christmas Shopping research for you.  I've done the work, you reap the rewards.  Christmas has never been so easy, folks.  Be sure to leave your tips for a stress-less Christmas.  We can all be stress-free and merry (and even a little tipsy if we want, because we don't have to drive anywhere...)

1.  www.canadapost.ca/shopper is probably one of the most helpful Christmas shopping tools I have ever stumbled upon.  Again, I'm really not one to toot my company horn, but if you've ever needed to find oh, I don't know...a telescope for your six year old son who has forgotten he really, really, really wants one, maybe...this is the place for you.  It comparison shops at 100's of shops (on-line and in store) for the best deal, breaks it down by price, shipping, and in stock availability.  It's better than any search engine I've used, because it breaks it down in Canadian Funds.  I bought Q's telescope through there, and it was delivered to my house within three days.  It was also the cheapest (with shipping included) that I had seen.  I mean, Q is six.  And he still doesn't even remember that he wants one, so I'm not going to spend the earth on it.  But there is no use in it being crappy either, because then he really won't like it.  Plus, right now they've got a promotion on (because it's a new service) where you can win $2500.00.  Who's not up for that?  If you try it, say I sent you.  They'll have no idea who you're talking about.  Seriously, they won't.  But it would be super funny.

2.  What do you buy the person who has everything?  I know you think I'm going to say a *gift card* but you are so wrong...what a cop-out (unless you're buying for me and then, YAY!  I love gift cards...nothing says "I love you" like, "Here, go shopping.  It's on me!")  But I buy them box sets of DVD's.  My brother, who coincidentally does not have everything, quite the opposite...and yet he's still so hard to buy for, loves movies and such - so I got him the box set of HBO's Band of Brothers.  I haven't actually watched it, because it's all war and stuff, but I've heard it's really good.  http://www.amazon.ca/ is great for books and movies, because it comparison shops for you too.  New and used items, shipped through UPS within two business days.  Or how 'bout trying Barnes and Noble (ahem...to the right, nudge, nudge....)  I've heard they offer FREE SHIPPING!!

Have you noticed I haven't even gone into a store yet?  No pushy crowds, no fighting for the last size XXL sweater for great aunt Martha. 

3.  Also for the person who has everything (or nothing):  a Magazine subscription.  It's the gift that keeps on giving, really.  I love magazines.  I have a little affair with each new one I buy.  First I look at the pictures (from back to front), then read the articles (in order of interest) and then start from the beginning just in case I miss something.  How can this not be the best idea ever?  There is a magazine for everything and everybody.  Do you love horses?  They have "Horse Illustrated" just for you!  Crazy about cooking, and you're a vegetarian?  How about "Vegetarian Times Magazine"  FYI:  I've linked these magazines just so you know I'm not making up the titles.  Who knew, right?  Not me!  You don't have to set foot in a mall, and they get a nice little reminder of you, once a month for the next year.  What could be better?

4.  I am crazy about this next idea.  So often we get caught up in stuff...all the things at Christmas.  We forget those less fortunate than us.  Or we want to give, but don't know how.  This is the *how*...Through http://www.worldvision.org/ you can buy a family in a developing nation an animal.  Two goats can create a viable business for a family in a third world country.  Can you even imagine that?  One goat, for $75, can produce 16 cups of milk per day.  But it doesn't stop there.  There are choices!  You can buy ducks or chicks or sheep or even shares in a well for their community.  And you can donate it all in someone else's name.  How awesome is that?  For Christmas, I bought you a well in India.  Enjoy!

There are four very helpful suggestions...you're welcome very much.  If you've noticed, not one of them requires you to step foot out your front door, spend over $100.00, or talk to a human in any part of the process. 

What could be better than that? 

What are your ideas?

No. 

Seriously...

...what are your ideas?

I'm still not even close to being done...

Did you all notice how I could totally get a job as a late night host for the slap chop infomercials?  I think I'm a natural... And if you call within the next 5 minutes, I'll throw in an additional....

Fa la la la la la la la la

There is something about having a child around the holidays that makes me ten times more excited than I normally would.  And I guess I should clarify that when I say *having* a child, I don't mean birthing a child.  I can't imagine any time of the year that would make me excited about that unless storks do in fact deliver 2 year olds.  I mean that having a 6 year old around the house makes things exciting...makes Christmas exciting.  Our house looks like the North Pole opened up and puked in every single room.  To the outsider, it's probably absolutely gawdy, but I don't care.  I think it looks warm and inviting.  I'm sure our electricity bill is going to be through the roof.  Tonight the Christmas tree goes up and the theme will be "home for the holidays".  I've never been one to actually have a theme, you know like those black trees with purple birds and silver tinsel; or the white trees with fluorescent blue and pink balls;  mine have always been homemade ornaments on a beautiful green tree.  Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas with pink and purple and black and white. 

A few changes this year.  Instead of mailing a letter to Santa, Q decided to send him an e-mail.  Welcome to the age of technology, where 6 year olds are sending e-mails to Santa.  Now, I'm not gonna lie, this was way less time consuming for me.  I didn't have to spell every single word out, forget to mail it, and then have to write a letter from "Santa" on Christmas eve and pop it in the mailbox.  I will tell you that was probably the best letter that Q ever received though, the year I forgot to mail his letter.  It was brilliant.  Anyways, not like I'm trying to plug my workplace or anything, but if you'd like to send your Santa note by e-mail, http://www.canadapost.ca/ has a link for kids.  They can write an e-mail to Santa (you have to put in an adult's e-mail address to receive a response), play Christmas themed games, like matching the gifts or helping Santa navigate through the sky to deliver presents.  

Q is also covering his bases, and I'm not sure why he's decided to do it this way, but he's decided to give Santa his requests using different avenues.  In the e-mail, he asked for a Nintendo DS game (that I don't even think exists, but whatever...it's Santa, right?  He can make anything in the North Pole...).  Then his dad's work Christmas party was yesterday, and Santa made a guest appearance - Q asked for the air hockey table.  Next, he wrote a hand written list that included a Webkinz and Beyblades (which I'm still trying to figure out.  Unfortunately, I don't think that *Santa* will be bringing him those this year...)  I'm wondering if maybe he's beginning to question the validity of Santa, and figures that just to be sure, he'll leave little hints everywhere.    Notice that nowhere has he asked for a telescope.  I wonder if I should remind him how much he really, really wants one.

Another change - I haven't made my cards this year.  Between supervising the world, winning the Mother of the Year Award and sleeping, I've decided that it would be a little overkill to make my cards.  I value my sanity, even moreso after losing it a time or two, so instead I bought these cards that *look* like I made them.  It's brilliant,  no one will be the wiser.  Truthfully, I don't make them for everybody else.  I make them for me, it's a creative outlet.  But creativity is at a premium this year, so just be thankful you've received one at all.

Along the lines of sanity, I've decided to throw a Christmas party this year.  There's just something about a big house, gawdy decorations and December that make you want to do just that.  It's going to be small, just a couple of my really close friends who would love a party even if there was laundry in the living room, greeted them in my jammies, and served Macaroni for dinner.  That's what makes it even more rewarding to make little sandwiches and gift baskets and such.  Spending time with these girls rejuvenates me, renews my spirit, and helps me realize we're all a little crazy and that's okay.

So, turn up the Christmas tunes.  If you're in the Vancouver area, 103.5 QMFM and 106.3 Praise FM are both playing all Christmas music All. The. Time.  It's a horrible luxury.  Seeing as how we've been listening to it since the third week of November.  I'm humming jazzy renditions of every Christmas carol ever sung.  Every one who's anyone has done a Christmas Album.  Makes me want to do one too.  Then, maybe then, I will have made it, too.

p.s.  Have you notice the blog has changed for the holidays as well?  What can I say, a girl gets bored working midnights...

Please Play Again...

Here in Canada, it's the small things that make us happy.  I know the whole world thinks that we live in Igloos and drive around town on dog sleds with huge smiles on our faces.  While we're not that simple, a good cup of coffee sure makes us smile.  And the chance of winning something even sweetens the deal.  We have this ridiculously large coffee chain up here called Tim Hortons - which co-incidentally is named after a hockey player - yet another thing that makes most Canadians happy (myself excluded...).  You can win things like a donut or a coffee or a car or a big screen T.V.  Or you get this,



Yup.  That says, "Please Play Again"

I often joke that if there were ever a movie made about me (although in my wildest imagination, I cannot even fathom why there would be) the title, most definitely, will be, "Please Play Again."  I just have bad luck.  And truthfully, I've made one or two poor choices that have also led me to (please) play again. 

I know I'm a little bit biased, but I really like me.  In fact, I think I'm fabulous.  I really do.  I think I'm funny.  I make myself laugh all the time.  I'm kind to people, even strangers.  I'm sarcastic, I'm witty, I'm smart.   I think I'm the whole package.  The thing is, not every body agrees with me.  I've thought long and hard about how I was going to write this post.  I mean, I knew I was going to write it, because we all know this is my therapy.  All you poor saps read along for whatever reason.  I write because it's cheaper than therapy and I feel so much better when I get everything off my chest.  Having said that, knowing that others read it...it has to be a tad um....modified.  For instance, not every second word is a curse, and I try really hard to remove the whiny, feel sorry for me air and replace it with a "when life gives you lemons" attitude.  So...this is not in any way meant to make you feel sorry for me.  I'm fully convinced that I'm going through a crappy time at work solely for one purpose;  When I make it big, I'll have a I-came-from-nothing-single-mom-worked-the-graveyard-shift-to-support-her-kid kind of story.  Woot, woot, yay for me, right?

I've always been kind of normal.  Mediocre, really.  Like in high school, I was in the 80 percentile, while all my friends were in the 95th.  Except in math where I basically got through by the seat of my pants - but honestly, I have never, ever had to use calculus since I learned it.  Anywho, there was always someone who was better than me.  Smarter than me.  If I got 85% on a test, you could bet your ass there'd be someone sitting next to me who got 95%.  That's just the way it was.  All. The. Time.

My first job, I was next in line to become an assistant manager until at the very last second the manager made up with her best friend after a spat and gave the job to her instead.  Which was a total mistake, but whatever.  At the airport, I applied for a promotion at the same time as my girlfriend, who started at the same time as me...and she got the job.  I did not.  Same airline, different job - another person applied and told them she was applying specifically so I did not get it - and she got it.  Eventually, I moved up in the company, but it took me twice as long as everybody else.  And not because I'm not smart.  I am, dammit, I am.  Smart, that is.  Everybody else just doesn't know how fabulous I am, I guess.

Recently, I applied for a job within the company I am working right now.  After about a week or so, I got a no-reply, cookie cutter e-mail thanking me for my interest, however I did not possess the "basic requirements for the job."  Are you kidding me?  Could they have stated it any differently?  A little less cold, perhaps?  How stupid do I seem to people?  I don't possess the basic requirements?  What?  I can't walk and chew gum at the same time?  (That's not true by the way....I totally can walk and chew gum at the same time.)  I can't breathe in and out and pump blood through my veins while also creating new blood cells?  Actually, I can.  That's basic, in my mind.  Can I do long division in my head?  No, probably not.  But that's not even in the job description.

And truthfully, I don't have one of the requirements.  I don't have a post secondary education.  But, c'mon people.  It's the post office.  No one has a post secondary education, unless the post office paid for it as part of a job advancement program.  Then I find out (get ready to gasp here, people) that they have offered the job to people who have either the same or less qualifications as I do.  Some were offered the job who have less basic requirements than me.  And they were offered the job.  As in, they didn't apply.  They didn't even want the job.  They were approached and asked to take it.  Hello??????  I'm FABULOUS over here...

It makes me so angry, I could spit.  And maybe I will spit.  Sometime.  When no one's watching.  And maybe into a garbage or something.  Because I think we all agree that spitting is gross and completely unsanitary. 

Honestly, this is why I haven't started writing my book.  I'm afraid I'll put all of my effort and all of me into it, and it will just be mediocre and no one will see how fabulous I am. 

You Know You're Old When...

I know that in the big scheme of things 33 is not old.  Geez, hopefully I'm not even middle-aged.  I'd like to live older than 66.  75 - 80 would be good.  Old enough that you've lived a good life and seen your child graduate university and marry, not too old that someone else is dressing and bathing you (God willing!)  But I am getting older.  Older than my 20 year old self, that's for darn sure.  Lately, I've been compiling a list in my head of proof I'm not as young as I once was....

1. I say things like, "that's for darn sure..." (and this time I purposely left out the "tooting" for fear it made me seem reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaallllly old...)
2. The store I've been shopping in for years starts selling pants that have no buttons/zippers, and have an elastic waist - for 'ease' - say the in store advertisements.  Sorry, Reitmans...you have one less customer, effective immediately.
3. My bedtime is 10:00pm on the weekends. 
4. My idea of a fabulous night out, is a night in...
5. My son comes home from school asking for Silly Bandz and BeyBlades and you have no idea what he's talking about.  I had a difficult time googling it too, because I did't know how to spell it.
6. I have to take the new winter coat I bought Q back because it makes him look "like a girl..." (it's red).  This is momentous.  It's the first thing I've bought him that he doesn't like.  Here we go...
7. My son's soccer coaches are 14.  Now, I realize they're in high school and all, I guess I forgot that I wasn't.  They were talking about their school dance next month...which is formal...so one is going to wear a bow tie.  My last school dance was almost 15 years ago.
8. A night out with the girls is dinner and a drink and home by 11:00.  No more wild parties, no more drinking til I'm stupid, no more poor drunken choices...
9. Someone says "back in the day" and they're referring to MY day...true story.  And yes, she's still alive.
10. I'm choosing function over fashion.  Like every.single.time.  High heels are not my friend.  Ballerina flats, however, are.
11. My excuse for my behaviour/memory/exhaustion/weight is my age.

How do you know you're old(er) than before?

Baby, It's Cold Outside

I am of the mind that every story is so much better with exaggeration.  It keeps your audience on the edge of their seat, wanting more.  So, while Vancouver does not look like this...

...the story is soooooo much better if I tell you that I took this picture of my street this morning when I got home from work.  Truthfully, I pulled this one off of google images and it's of a street in Montreal - but I totally have your attention now, don't I?

I grew up in Calgary, where temperatures routinely dipped well below -30 (Celsius)  sometimes -45 with the windchill in the long winter months.  Most school boards have snow days, but in Calgary we had *cold* days where skin froze in less than 30 seconds, they couldn't keep the schools heated, and everyone decided it was too stupid to leave the comfort of your own home.  Vehicles were kept running, some over night, with the fear that they wouldn't start in the morning if turned off.  Snow would fall on to streets and before you could clear it, more would fall...making the roads a virtual skating rink.   

The year before I moved to Vancouver, it snowed every month of the year in Calgary.  This included a freak snowstorm in April that crippled the city in less than two hours.  Drivers were forced to abandon their cars on the side of the road, and in some cases in the middle of the road as the snow fell.  Rescuers wrote *OK* on the car windows, just so everyone knew that there was no one stranded inside the cars.  Today Calgary, Alberta, Canada was the second coldest place in.the.world.  The South Pole came in first at -36.  Calgary was -31. 

All this to say that I'm used to cold.  I'm used to snow.  I lived it for my entire childhood. 

When I moved to Vancouver on November 4, 2003, we watched the temperature change from -27 to +9 degrees as we drove out west.  The day I arrived, I walked to the store in capris and flip flops.  I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  Initially, I moved to Vancouver for a guy, but we all know how that panned out...now, I tell everyone that I moved here for the weather.

But it's effin' cold out there.  Out here.  It's minus ten degrees Celsius, -19 with the wind chill.  There is snow on the ground that has not melted.  And it has been there since Friday night.  And I'm not even exaggerating.  I'm cold.  The house is cold.  Houses in Vancouver aren't meant for cold like this.  We have towels wrapped around the pipes so they don't freeze.  The windows and walls aren't insulated the way they are in Calgary.  My car, good ol' lil Rosie, who always gives 150% is having a difficult time starting. 

It's a good shove in the arse to get ready for Christmas.  Once again, it's beginning to look like the North Pole opened up and puked in my house.  There are decorations and lights and garlands everywhere you look.  I've even begun my Christmas shopping which is unheard of for me.  I'm the one who starts mid-December and not because I'm a procrastinator (although, I am.)  It's because I just can't keep a secret.  I get so darn excited, I want to give the gifts like right now. 

I told Q that I bought one of his presents (a telescope!!!) and he says, "Oh, is it an Air Hockey Rink?!?!?!?"  and I'm like...."uhhhh, no...."  He laughs and says, "I totally know it is because of the look on your face.  I guessed it!!"  What look?  This look?  Oh ya, that's panic.  An Air Hockey Rink?  What happened to the telescope?  Just last week he wanted a telescope. 

Gah!  Kids!! 

Guess I should ask for a Christmas List...

In My Day...

Hello there! 

Where have I been?

Well, let me tell you.  The past two or so weeks have been a whirlwind!  A last minute trip to see my best friend.  We shopped for like 6 hours straight, like only she and I can (in high heels, no less) and we got our noses pierced.  Let me just say that if you've ever wondered if it hurts to get your nose pierced I can tell you that it really, really, really does.  Like a Mother.  I was *stupid* enough to go second and thought it was a good idea to watch how they do it, you know so it wouldn't seem as bad.  This was a huge mistake - HUGE - because it looks as painful as it is.  First of all, they stick this metal rod up your nose so they don't puncture anything else with the needle.  Then they take this super sharp needle about the size of a toothpick and jam it in your nose.  They leave it there, while they take a nose ring with a spiral end and screw it into your nose.  The whole process takes about thirty seconds, but when you're watching it and you know you're next, it seems more like 5 minutes. 

The gal who was giving us the piercings...the *artist* I believe they're called - must still be laughing at us...especially since she had the bridge of her nose pierced...like in between her eyes - and she had the back of her neck pierced.  I'm not sure how that's done.  I'm also not quite sure how/why anyone comes up with that...piercing the back of your neck.  Anyways, I now feel like a super bad ass 33 year old momma with this thing in my nose that feels like a perma-booger.  I'm hoping a get used to it.

In the past two weeks, my birthday has also come and gone.  I puked my way through it, and not in a good way.  I had the stomach flu and my birthday dinner consisted of crackers and fizzless ginger ale.  When I wasn't puking, I was sleeping.  Whooooooo hoooooooooo, what a party animal.  I think I'm creating a nice little tradition here because I was also sick for my birthday last year.  So far, my thirties have been fabulous. 

Best present ever:  Realizing I'm 33 and not 34.  It's like I gained a whole year.

This was the year of gift cards, which I absolutely love because I love shopping and shopping with someone elses' money is always better (even more reason why I should end up with a sugar daddy, right?  Am I right????)  So, I'm standing in line at Old Navy with a new pair of Jammies (yes, they deserve capitalization...) and Slippers (ditto) and I'm minding my own business.  In the line behind me is a teen-aged boy about 14 or so...you know, the age where it's cool to wear a toque inside and his mother.  From out of nowhere, this kid winds up and punches me in the arm.  Not super hard, kinda like a 'yellow punch buggy' type of punch.  I look at him and he laughs and mumbles, "sorry."  (No capitalization there...)  His mother also laughs.

I'm PMS-ing, by the way....

I stand there.  I look at my mom.  I stand there.  I start saying, "I'm going to freak out" like it's a mantra.  I calmly pay for my stuff, and I'm super polite to the cashier.  I'm about to leave, and I just can't let it go.  I turn around, and this is what comes out of my mouth...

"You know, it might be cute and funny that your son is going around hitting women now, but in a few years it won't be funny.  It'll be assault."

The mom freaks out (Mama Bear Syndrome) and starts telling me it was a mistake, and I walk away - shaking like a leaf. 

What is going on in this world?  Children are randomly assaulting women while their mothers stand by and watch?  And laugh?  (Why yes, yes I am still PMS-ing...how'd you notice?)  I put myself in the mother's shoes.  If Q bumps someone, intentionally or not, he knows it's wrong and I would be mortified.  I wouldn't laugh.  What kind of parent laughs at that?  Maybe I overreacted.  Probably I overreacted.  But if nothing else, that kid will never hit another woman without thinking twice and thinking of me.  At least, I hope he'll think twice.

I'm in Walmart today.  It's one of those new Super-Walmart stores.  It's a novelty.  It's a zoo at two o'clock in the afternoon.  I'm standing by the meat counter, bending over to get said meat when a woman comes between me and my cart and pushes me out of the way so she can get some meat.  I look at her, and she's like, "Oh, I'm sorry, I need some meat..."  Really?  I didn't notice.  I don't need meat.  I'm just standing here  IN FRONT of the meat because I thought it would be fun.  Why not consider waiting until I've moved on?  Like I just did when there was someone there 30 seconds ago? 

Seriously.  What is wrong with our society?  Have we become so rushed, so multi-tasked, so impatient that we've lost our manners?  I know Walmart is the lowest of the low in terms of social standings, but c'mon people...we're nothing if we're not polite and courteous.  It takes so little to smile, to wait a moment, to be patient.  And it can mean so much.  We forget sometimes that we have the power to make or break someones day with one simple gesture. 

So, the next time you get in my way, remember that.  Okay?  Okay!

The Experiement, Phase 1

Where I work, we have a social media policy.  To be honest, I've never actually read it.  But just the fact that we have one makes me think that it's a pretty big deal around here.  Then they throw around words like "fired" and it makes you think twice about work-related blogs.  Of course, if I were to blog about work, I would have only positive things to say and wouldn't even think about mentioning less than positive or even unpositive things about my work place.  Especially in my position of authority (okay, okay, I'm just a lowly supervisor...of the world) it would be completely unprofessional of me to slag my employees or my colleagues or my managers.  In fact, I wouldn't even consider it.  So I don't have to even read the social media policy, because I would never, ever, ever write a post about my work, employees, etc., etc.

However, I have this friend...

No seriously, I know when people say they have a "friend", it really means themselves, but really it's not me.  It's my friend.  I've already stated above how dedicated I am to the secrecy of my work place.  So much so that I haven't even mentioned (in this post) where I work.  If you're eager enough to go through all my previous posts to find out where I work, well I appreciate your dedication to the blog, I absolutely do, but that's your problem.  This post is definitely about my friend's work place.  She tells me stories, like all. the. time.  So many stories, that I actually feel as though I work there (but I don't) and I feel equally qualified to talk about some of her co-workers and such.  Because she talks about them that much.

So much fodder, she gives me, I'm actually considering a regular post about her job.  Of course, she'll get royalties if I ever get that famous off it.  I'm that generous of a friend.  I really am.  Tell me what you think...

There are a few similarities between her job and mine.  I cannot explain this, it's pure coincidence.  For instance, she works the night shift too.  Also, she works with unionized employees who's collective agreement is substantial.  It covers most everything.  And let me tell you, these employees are covered.

One employee doesn't show up to work for 7 months.  Seven months!!  They send him letter after letter saying, "Uh, hello?  Are you there?  We're worried about you..." and progressively get more serious, like "Okay, now we're really worried about you.  You must come back to work.  Or at least call us."  And then, "Now, Mister...now, we're really mad.  You have to come to work.  Now.  Okay?"  Then they fire him.  Well, they send a letter saying,

"Dear Mr. Such and such,

You haven't been at work for four months now, you haven't contacted us, so we're pretty sure you're either not coming back or you've dropped off the face of the planet.  We wish you luck in all your future endeavours. 

Sincerely,

The Management"

The employee gets this letter and evidently figures he's in trouble, so he starts calling in sick.  And he sends in a doctor's note as an additional CYA.  For three months, he does this.  Sends doctor's notes every month and calls in.  For a job he no longer has.  For a job from which he's been terminated.  Then, one day seven months later, he shows up for his job.  With a list of conditions (he can only work four hours a day).  And the company takes him back, conditions and all.  They've decided to give him a 'second chance'. 

Isn't that thoughtful of them.

These employees are Teflon coated.  And they know it.

It makes me wonder...

It makes me wonder how far we have to go these days in order to get fired.  If you can not show up for work for seven whole months and still have a job at the end of it...I wonder, what else can you get away with?  What is it that makes people think they can get away with it and then actually get away with it?  What does it say about our society where it's acceptable to have little to no work ethic?  What's happening to us?

To be clear, my friend does not work with youngsters, the gen X-ers who've never had to work hard for anything and therefore have no appreciation for the value of a dollar earned (typically...tsk, tsk to the generalizations, I say).  These are all people in the prime of their career.  They are not working in a highly skilled profession nor a job that requires physical exertion.  They do not have degrees or trades or special powers.  Well, they might...but they're not specific to this job.  They have entry level jobs that requires very little training.  They all get paid very, very well ($20.00/hr - where the minimum wage in BC is $8.00/hr.) for the job they do.  They have health and dental benefits up the ying yang and they will all retire with a full pension and benefits package.  To slack off in this environment is an idea completely foreign to me.  Where does this sense of entitlement come from? 

And why don't I have it?

Funkity Funk Funk Funk

Why is it that being in a funk isn't as cool/acceptable/fun as being funky?  Well, I should rephrase that, not funky as in, "Gee, that smells funky."  More like, "Wow, she's cool.  She's super funky!!"  (yes, I know....no one talks that way anymore, unless it's a SNL skit.)  But no one would have decided to make a song with the lyrics, "Can you take me to....fun-ky town?  Can you take me to...fun-ky toooown?" if funky town wasn't so much fun.  I think the real problem here is that there are too many meanings for the word funk.  English in general is so ridiculous that way.  You'd think that all those scholarly types could think up enough words so we didn't need to clarify the difference between a tear and a tear, not to mention the differences between bare and bear.  One time years ago, when my brother and I were young, we're playing Pictionary and he gets the word 'Hoe'.  Don't even ask me how my brother knew what a 'Ho' was and why decided to draw that instead.

All that just to say I'm in a funk.  And it's not fun.  It's not cool.  It's would be way better to be funky (and not in a smelly way...)  I'm so bored that last week I had to talk myself out of chopping off my mid-back super long blonde high lighted hair and dying it black.  Seriously, it's that bad.  I mean this is what my nightmares are made of, my hair being cut with or without my knowledge.  I have literally woken up in a cold sweat after a horrid night terror consisting of my hair being cut.  But last week, it seemed like such a good idea.  And the colour, I couldn't decide whether or not to go platinum blonde or jet black.  Both would have been equally as shocking to the system.  I was thinking of a Victoria Beckham-esque bob.  Kind of like this.  Actually, exactly like this...

Or this....

Minus the tattoo, of course. 

Hmmm, or maybe not...I wonder what it means and if it's applicable to me...

So, I thought I'd try one of those web sites that takes a picture of you and merges it with the celebrity hair styles of your choice so you can see what you look like with Jennifer Aniston's hair (hmmm...I wonder if they have a site that does that with celebrity noses too...)  But get this, you have to pay...for a (minimum) three month subscription.  I'm trying to be spontaneous here, people.  I don't need three months to decide.  I want to upload my face and download Victoria's hair.  Simple.  Fast.  Bingo Bango...Bob's your uncle. 

With that idea out the window, I thought I'd keep the length and go black.  Jet black.  But the problem with that is it's so final.  Just as they say, once you go black, you cannot go back, and that's not just with men my friends.  You cannot just go back to blonde if you decide you don't like black.  Well, you can...after about $300.00 - $500.00, after they've stripped your hair and it has the consistency of straw, then you're back to blonde...only it's got a bit of a greenish hue to it.  Well, except for the parts that are orange.  Or falling out from all the processing, for that matter.

In the end, I couldn't even commit to bangs.  Bangs are always a mistake.  For me, anyways.  And they take forever to grow out.  Instead, I'm going to just live with my brown hair with blonde highlights and my funk.  At least until next week, when I have some solo girl time with my bff.  Who knows what trouble her and I will get into, but it's always good times with T.B.

Happy Halloween...mwahahahahaha...

Before the night is over, here are a few pics of our Halloween.  The final product, if you will...

I'm a late 80's / early 90's chick, in case you can't tell.  I got a few funny looks tonight, I think by people wondering if I wear leg warmers and mismatched fluorescent gloves every day.  And dude, I hope my hair forgives me for all that back combing and hairspray.

 The spooky house, with the spooky skeleton, with the spooky pumpkins and the even spookier mommy.

Cutest little skeleton I even did see, if I do say so myself. 

Thank goodness we're done for another year.  I did forget to mention how much I loooooove all the candy!  It's difficult to choose, but I think the tootsie rolls are my favourite.  Or maybe the lollipops with the gum inside.  Of course, chocolate is always there when I need it.  I guess I'll just have to have one of each (except for the all natural pineapple slices.  Q can totally have those...)

Here's hoping you all had a safe, and spooky Halloween.

Take a Bite

I'm not really sure how I feel about Corporal Punishment.  I think that most times when people hit their kids they do it because they're angry and they need a release, not so much because they're trying to teach a valuable lesson.  But that's just me.  I think children who are smacked around are more effed up by the time they're adults.  So I guess I do know how I feel about it.  I'm not so crazy about corporal punishment.

Capital punishment, on the other hand....well, I'm super glad I'm not the one who has to make that decision.  I mean, how do you know for 100% every single time that you have the right guy?  It's not like they're all that willing to confess.  I don't know if rehabilitation works 100% of the time either, though.  There are many, many effed up people out there.

I do, however, think that some forms of punishment are highly effective.  Say you get caught stealing, well...let's just chop your hand off.  You'd think once or twice before stealing something if you knew that was the punishment, wouldn't you?  At least I know I would.  I like my hands.  And I like the fact that I have two.  It's very convenient.  However, 3 hands would come in handy every so often...

Rape..well, I'm a huge proponent for chopping the guys penis right off.  With an axe.  Quick and painful.  I don't think a law will ever be passed that will support that, though, so here is the next best thing as far as I'm concerned.

I remember watching this Oprah episode years and years ago, and this poor older woman woke up in her bed in the middle of the night with some guy trying to rape her.  Well, she grabbed the guys penis and squeezed real hard to the left, grabbed his testicles and pulled real hard to the right.  The guy was in so much pain that he was begging her to call the police just to put him out of his misery.

This is the next best thing...it's called the rape-axe.  It's a condom with teeth.  Teeth that embed themselves into the penis.  And they can only be removed by a surgeon.  Can you say deterrent?  It's been developed by Sonnet Ehlers who has been researching it and developing it for 40 years.  Did you know that in South Africa one in two women is raped in their lifetime?  One in two.   That's like half, in case you're wondering.  How horrible is that.  A condom with teeth...just what the doctor ordered...

For more information:

http://www.antirape.co.za/index.htm

I hate Halloween.  Hate it.  Like on a scale of 1 - 10, where 1 is love it and 10 is hate it, I'm a 15.  And, I hate it on more than one level.  I hate it on many levels.

First of all, I hate the dressing up part.  I don't 'get' what's so fabulous about dressing up as a rocker chick or an eighty's girl.  I don't get what's so fabulous about getting dressed up at all.  I don't want to be a cow or any other barnyard animal.  I don't want to be a ghost or a goblin.  I don't want to be a cat or a mouse.  I want to be me.  That's it.  Just me.  All day, every day.  Dressing up, to me, is just plain silly.  It makes me feel silly. 

Not only that, but it seems that these days, you can't just dress up as a cat...you have to dress up as a sexy cat.  If you're an angel, you're an DD cup angel with wings.  Halloween seems to have become an excuse to dress like a hooker.  Police women do not wear 5inch stiletto boots - it's not very practical - they'd have a hell of a time chasing a perp in those.  Nurses don't wear mini skirts - because just your luck - it would be a 60 year old nurse in that mini skirt and she'd be bending over to pick up her pen.  Nothing about Halloween is realistic. 

Mostly, though, I just hate being scared.  I hate it.  I hate that feeling when someone jumps out of a dark closet and yells, "Boo!"  I hate ghosts and goblins and devils and vampires.  I've never watched a horror movie (unless you count the Blair Witch Project...but that was just stupid.)  I don't like haunted houses or bumps in the night.  There are enough scary things to worry about in every day life, like germs and drunk drivers and bugs...I don't need 'fake' things to worry about, too.

Crazy though it is, for as much as I hate Halloween - I have a six year old who loves it.  The other day he asked me why he gets a day off school for Christmas and Easter, but not for Halloween.  It made me stop and think that maybe I'm not teaching/stressing enough the reasons for Christmas and Easter.  Until he asked, if Christmas was Jesus' birthday, who's birthday was Halloween. 

So, instead of sitting at home in the dark with the doors locked (don't laugh...this is what I remember doing when I was younger...my father also hated Halloween...) I've chosen to make it an opportunity for Q and I to make memories together.  Hopefully, memories that will last him well into adulthood and make up for some of the screw ups I'm sure I have/will need to make up for by the time he is an adult.  Each year, he picks what he wants to be and I make it for him.  Well, we make it together...but really, I make it.  I try to let him help, really I do...but at some point, I inevitably push him aside, saying, "Here, let me do it..."

This year he decided that he wanted to be a skeleton.  So, a skeleton he is...actually, he's a glow in the dark skeleton....



The "bones" are foam painted with glow in the dark paint.  And yes, I did cut out each and every little bone... 

You can kinda see the refection from the paint in this one... 



Something about being a skeleton that makes you wanna be scary, I guess.



I was going for a smile here, he switched it out for this at the last possible second. 

Next year, he wants to be a ghost which I'm really super excited about  because it will be very simple, like  slap on a white bed sheet and we're good to go, like way easier than last year's shark.  I'm pretty sure I sewed my fingers together at least twice last year, and there was blood and curse words on numerous occasions.  This year, only one minor burn from the glue gun, and I think I only swore once...or twice...

Don't Wanna Jinx This, Yo...

Saturday morning at 11:00am, I decided that I had had enough.  For about a month now, I've been doing it but not enjoying it.  In fact, every single time I did it, I felt ill.  It wasn't fun anymore.  It was smelly.  It was  expensive.  I was done.

I took two puffs of the cigarette, and then put it out.  I've not picked one up since.  Now, that's not to say that I've not wanted one.  But it hasn't been an overwhelming need to have one because I cannot breathe without nicotine in my system.  Plus I am so effing nauseous that the thought of a smoke makes me want to well...puke.  For some ridiculous reason, my withdrawl from nicotine, tar, formaldehyde, etc...is extreme, horrid, nausea.  I am on day 5 now, though, so hopefully the waves of "I'm gonna puke" will only last a day or two more.  What makes someone go through this 4 times is absolutely beyond me.  You'd think that someone would quit once, realize how friggen horrible it is to quit and never. ever. ever. pick up another cigarette again.  There's something in our brain that forgets pain and agony though...I guess it's the same thing that makes us have more than one baby and stuff.  Yes.  Yes, I did just compare quitting smoking to pregnancy and labour and delivery. 

Anyways, I totally decided that I was over smoking at the wrong time of the month, because not only am I going through withdrawl, I'm also feeling a tad PMS-ish.  So not only do I feel like puking, but I feel like puking in your shoes because you're so annoying to me right now.  Well, not you in particular...but someone.  Someone's shoes. 

*Someone* who calls me and tells me that his 'friend' is in town and she'll be picking Q up from school instead of me.  On my day.  Call me just a little bit crazy, but I'm not just going to step aside and let some woman pick up my son from school ("oh, but I thought you could sleep more if she picked him up...")  So, I'm like crazy psycho detective momma...

me:  "I don't really know how I feel about this.  I mean, I don't know anything about her."

him:  "Oh ya, totally.  She's not comfortable with this unless you are.  She feels the exact same way."

Okay...I'm not really sure she feels the EXACT same way as I do, seeing as how she didn't go through 24 hours of labour before pushing out a 10lb 6oz baby, you know.  And she hasn't raised him for the past 6 years, but I can totally see how she feels EXACTLY how I do about this child. 

me:  Can I find out some stuff about her?

him:  Oh ya, totally. Sure.

Dead silence...

me:  Okay, well how long have you known her?

him:  Two years.

me:  Where did you meet her?

him:  On the internet.

Holy Shit.  First of all, pulling teeth would have been a) faster and b) less painful.  But *on the internet*, really?  Do I really need to go through all the reasons why I should feel a little bit leery about someone he met on the internet looking after my child???  I know she's standing right by him while I'm asking the questions.  I can totally picture them both rolling their eyes at me.  But, um...hello...let's turn the tables here.  I've just met a man on-line and he's come to visit me for a week, and I'm gonna have him pick up my son from school while I'm at work.  Alarm bells, anyone?  Why is it that just because she's a woman, I'm supposed to be all okay with it.  Women can be serial killers too, can't they?  I realize it's way less common, but I'm not going to just trust the safety of my child to some stranger.

In the end, I told them that I didn't feel comfortable with it.  Not to mention, I was free and could totally pick my kid up.  It was just easier for Mr. Ex.  It just sucks that I'm always the bad guy.  Q is in the background saying, "She's really super nice, mommy.  It's okay."  Kinda like the time Q told me that he needed his passport because he and daddy were going to an Island under Florida to meet one of daddy's friends who lives there.  Uhhhh......no....no, I don't think you are.  Turns out it was Costa Rica and it was his dental hygienist and they had no real *concrete* plans to visit.  I don't know about you, but my hygienist has never ever once invited me to visit them in Costa Rica.  I guess I'm going to the wrong dentist.

But no, I'm the bad guy.  I'm the one who enforces the bed time.  I'm the one who makes him read and reads him stories.  I'm the one who makes the doctors appointments and dentist appointments and parent/teacher interviews.  I'm the one who enrolls him in sports and school and makes him eat all his dinner.  I'm the one who does all this stuff.  Mr. Ex just shows up.

I don't let Q ride his bike in the house (!!)  I don't have a completely empty living/dining room so we can play hockey in. the. house.  I wonder how many times he hears "you're mean."  Sometimes it just gets a little tiresome.  Why do I have to be the responsible one all the time? 

So, not really a good week to quit with the smokes.  But really, when is a good time to quit?  It would be really nice to release some of this angst.