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Pop Quiz: Finding Serenity

9 Mar

So I get my eagerly awaited Amazon order today, and I’m pawing through the luscious pile of books (yeah, I’m odd-bear with me) when I notice that I have two copies of one book.


I have two copies of “Finding Serenity”-it’s a book of essays about Joss Wheadon’s Firefly series, which I love. I figure what happened was that when the second volume went out of stock, I mucked something up and gave myself two copies of this thus far fun to read book.


Now, I’m a lazy girl. Just as the person still waiting for yarn (which I am going to mail out tomorrow I SWEAR, assuming I can still find your address.) Or the person waiting for the baby blanket for a kid almost a year old (I am nearly done-starting on the border this week!) I cannot be bothered to send this back to Amazon for a credit. That’s effort.

What I am willing to do if offer it to someone who wants it, and can follow simple instructions:

I’ll draw a name in a week’s time, on the day I get my next tattoo, March 17. All you need to do is leave me a comment on this post. Extra entry if you tell me why you love Firefly, or if you link to this post from your site as well.

That’s it. Nothing terribly difficult since as we’ve established, I’m lazy as hell. 🙂

I also now have about 40 books to be read. Good thing I’m currently unemployed.


25 Feb

My new(ish) friend Emma is one of the coolest, articulate, intelligent teenagers I’ve run into in the last, oh, I dunno, 20 years or so. (snark) If you’re not reading her, you should be-she’s at Errant Sock, and she’s damn cool. Read her latest post if you don’t trust me on this. I was not this smart at her age. It’s unnatural. I imagine she gets accused of being a middle age wife in Idaho a fair bit. 😛

ANYway, I did have a point.

My point is that Emma is in a competition, one where she could possibly win a 20k scholarship and be named sweet diggity dog something I’m too old to understand.

The real point is-I want to help her win. She’s the girl I want my girls to grow into-a smart woman already at the age if 15 (15, right Emma? I miss things sometimes) She’s the kind of person we need more of.

So what YOU can do is go HERE, register (takes on like, 2 minutes) and vote for Emma Saraff.

VOTE! She could be a fricken rocket scientist or finally find the cure for asshole. And wouldn’t THAT be nice.

She Blinded me with science!

26 Dec



Yes, that is a plastic stomach.

Santa, being a dutiful and women friendly fairy tale, remembered to bring Vivian something science related. He brought her “Sick Stomach“. Why yes, that means exactly what you think. I get to make pretend vomit with my kid. She’s pestered me all day long to do it, and I’ve been able to put her off because we need things to make it, like digestive cookies. Yes, I do see the irony on that one.

After all the candy and cookies and sheer crap that I’ve had, I couldn’t stomach making barf.

The sheer awesomeness of having a science obsessed daughter is my gift.

I, aside from my tattoo, got an Aerogrow. The bets are on for how long it takes for me to kill everything. It’s pretty cool, and also functions as a pretty damn good reading lamp.

Small Christmas, but good Christmas. Pooper Scooper Barbie was well received (poop already lost), T-Rex Playmobil caused squeeing, everyone happy, and gaining weight from the sheer amount of crap gifted to us. If I never see another gummy lifesaver again, it will be too soon.

Now if you don’t mind me, I have a bottle of white wine to finish off.

Good Weekend

27 Oct

Night out with significant other and music, shopping with friend, new movies bought, 12 hour sleep in-and pumpkin carving, with the dissertation of Vivian

Not bad. Not bad at all. Too bad I’m at work again.

Last Night

11 Oct

Went to my first show in literal years. No anxiety. No clutching at my chest or cold sweats. Amusement at the youngin’s, lost in memory remembering myself, years past.

The bands? They rocked. Too bad I’m old and my feet hurt too much to stick around for the encore. 😛

Opportunity: You say Party! We say Die!

I can’t tell you: Winter Gloves

Awesome night. It felt so fucking good to feel human again, let bass rumble through my chest and the beer sweat in my hand as I watched so many heads bobbing and hands dancing in the air.

It’s about fucking time.

Tina Fey is God.

14 Sep

I totally forgot this was on last night…and I should have stayed awake to watch it…


Viking Beer!

30 Aug

Went out last night with a local friend (Hi Cynthia!). Rescued her from suburbia via pimp van & in-laws. Met cute CUTE daughter again. (Think fey elf)

Then, drank BEER.

There’s beer, and then there’s “hey, did you want THAT glass (read: little wussy glass) or do you want the 36oz (he MIGHT have said 32-I don’t quite remember)

Oh, bring us the big one. Why not?

For the record, it takes commitment to drink to the bottom of this puppy when already fairly inebriated. Just sayin….



Had a great time-surprisingly not in that much pain. Forgot how nice it can be to just go out and not worry about anything or anyone else.

I’ve missed that.


10 Jun

Love these guys, as does Vivian. I dithered about seeing them live when they were here in the Armpit, didn’t go. Regret, sigh.

Never Meant Any Harm: The Golden Dogs

AND they’re Canadian. Do you really need any more reasons to buy their albums?

Construction Worker: The Golden Dogs


1 Jun

I don’t believe in luck. I believe in hard work, perseverance, dedication, harmony. Somedays, I don’t believe that happiness is a simple thing-an equation of love and contentment, divided by the lives we live.

Somedays, I don’t care. I just look ahead, and see my life, and smile.



Days like these….everything just makes sense.

In honor of Vivian, and rubber nipples…

31 May

Last night, while watching my stinky feet ( I hate socks and have sweaty feet, ok?) Vivian blurted out

“I wish I had rubber nipples to stick in my nose so I couldn’t smell your stinky feet!!!”

ah, youth. I watched FAR too much Ren and Stimpy as a teenager, and I’ve proudly passed the torch. They found my Ren & Stimpy tape, and it is good.

So, for the amusement of my generational cohorts, and your children, I present some of my favorite clips.


Living Color

22 May

In my head, they all merge into one woman. Graceful, creative, caring-they are everywoman-or perhaps the idealization of her. They speak with one soft lyrical voice, laugh with wisdom and ache with sadness.

I rapidly page through all of them, pausing to evaluate, lips twisted in thought.

The girl I wanted to hate, before, whose beauty and talent far surpass my own, who seemed to have it all, but more than I could dream, simple loves, quiet content and adventure. Then came the rabbit hole, and then this past weekend, when she became real to me, flesh and feeling and raw seething. She glowed though, even if she thought she didn’t, with an expectation, a knowing even she might just be ignorant of. Something burbles for her. I see her in green, for growth.

Someone else, the age my mother was at death, exactly, but different, easing only lately into motherhood, far enough removed from my past, but maybe not quite enough. Sharp edges and primary colors-simplicity of thought and singlemindedness-the solid stance of someone who knows exactly who she is. I see her in red, and smile.

In an obnoxiously upholstered arm chair sits yet another woman, angles corrected and purposefully maintained. A place for everything and everything in it’s place, well researched, well spoken. A laugh that fills the house and your heart-a woman you’ve known time and time again, and trust, implicitly,without question. You’re at ease with her. Perhaps you are her. Jests are easily found, yet seldom meant. Her eyes dance. She’s striped in reds and yellows, the duskier versions, the muted, vastly more interesting ones.

Another, I recognize before meeting as a soul I’ve known before, an immediate kinship, an exhaled breath saying “oh thank the lord you’re here.” We don’t recall this feeling, or why it stretches between us, but we don’t mistake it for anything other than friendship. She has an easy laugh and silky voice you could listen for until slumber, a simple motherhood I envy, finger permanently crooked in a tiny baby mouth. She’s coated in purple, tangy grape purples.

More pattern, more riots of color sits a woman I hardly know, a woman bearing more substance than I. A grey, the grey of possibility and clearing. A pause.

Red hair, the color of melon and sweet flesh, a color that brings my memory back many years to a boy who fascinated, and I find myself feeling yet again enthralled with a voice and an eye that sees what many do not, a life that calls foul on my excuses of no time, no chance to do the things I feel prone to do. She lives-she really lives, the joy of her son flowing clear through her and onto all of us. She’s no single color, no steady influence but a jumble, a rainbow, a can of paint half stirred. In my mind, her head is thrown back, crowing, Peter Pan….

Delicate neck, delicate wrists and scarves and all those things this 15 year old drama student strived for but didn’t have the bone structure for. Delicate like spider web though-deceiving and free, awaiting. She is bigger than herself, bigger than the room-her smile so simple and yet like a lighthouse, a beacon we crave. Not her approval-her happiness. She is earthy brown, green, the moss beneath our feet balancing us and cradling our heads. Her sorrows countered by living. I see her long brown hair, and grin.

One last, one quiet, one ponderous and questioning, watching. I clawed myself back and waited, unsure, curious, yet not. Then she opened, and I felt myself smile quietly at finding a truly interesting person, finding someone I wanted to ask questions of, someone who seemed new and eternal all at once. She was blacks and greys for me, but in the simplest and best of ways. A sharp laugh, a sharp wit, all edges but not painful.

In many ways, we’ve all suffered our losses, then, or now. Yet when coming together, the loudest sounds heard were laughter, the laughter of being understood, the laughter of being together, of having nothing to prove and no where to be. Even the soft sad moments have their value, memories and actions borne aloft and aloud for the first time ever or the first time in 20 years. There is healing to acknowledgement. There is healing to a circle of women, even if they hover on the dessert tray.

I am not known as someone who usually finds much value in the company of other women. But last weekend, I felt so much at home that it scared me more than the likely haunted bathroom in my room. It felt real-it felt like I was doing something real for the first time in years.

Wandering through shops full of incredible soul swelling pieces of art that spoke on that other level, that ethereal level-I felt peaceful and anxious and happy all at one time. I felt peace. I didn’t feel crazy or mannish or fat or annoying. I felt normal.

And what a gift that is.

I saw all of you in colors ladies, as part of an ever changing rainbow of life and personality, each as valid and pointed as the last. Even if I couldn’t keep my mouth shut half the time, and kept saying stupid shit, I felt enveloped and cared for in a way I haven’t felt in many years.

And I thank you.


If all else fails, color their world.

16 May


Most mornings around here are hurried, irritated moments. I don’t rise early-I tend to stay in bed as long as possible, since I never shower in the morning (today being an exception so I don’t gross Mad out of the car). Hurrying to get dressed, eat, create a lunch etc etc with a three year old doing her best autistic imitation is very….charming to say the least, and generally leaves me in a foul mood. So much so that I’m looking forward to waking at 6:30 again in the hopes of sneaking out of the house. The fan we leave on in their room is for our benefit more than theirs after all.

This morning, in the interests of peace, no screaming and no repeat of yesterdays “yes I want eggs, actually no, I don’t, I want Krispies and I just dumped all the eggs in the garbage” I offered pancakes-something that takes just a little too much time and brainpower most mornings. I make them from scratch after all-and yes, it’s better this way, and no, it’s not that much harder. I wouldn’t have the brain for Aunt Jemima most days.

Rosalyn started howling “I want dem cowored!!” and I had no idea what the hell she meant until Vivian translated gibberish into “She wants them colored.

Ah. Food coloring. My friend.

It’s amazing that 3 drops of blue food coloring can make everything right in a preschooler’s world. A few pink drops in the milk makes it even better, and I feel a lot calmer than I do most mornings.

Although not having to go to work kinda helps too. 🙂


So in a few hours, I am off to meet a fantastic group of women who blog. I’m not that anxious-sorta nervous, but excited to have a much needed weekend to clear my raging brain, and to meet some lovely ladies I’ve become so warmly acquainted with. My father said many warm things about Chester as well, so I look forward to that too. Something new-always a favorite.

So cheers for the long weekend folks (in Canada at least). It’s May 2-4-have a beer for me!

If you were wondering

14 May

Walking 3 miles or so in 17 mile a hour winds SUCKS ASS.

I say it almost every day, but the weather here is horrible. It’s either freezing or windy as shit. Just no wind-that’s really all I ask…

However, watching some moron trying to drive around the barricades blocking off a road, despite the giant “Construction Zone-NO ENTRY” sign and the person yelling frantically at them nearly made the whole thing worthwhile….

I now sit in a “visible” area at work, so if I’m not around during the day, it’s not personal. I just figure that using the internet at work inappropriately isn’t something to do near members of the HR department.


4 May

Run. Don’t walk. RUN and go watch Iron Man.

Fucking awesome. Totally fucking awesome. I can’t even use a normal adjective it was so good.

The added benefit of Robert Downey Jr. in tank tops has NOTHING to do with my opinion. Nothing at all.

Even Gwenyth Paltrow seemed to be acting instead of moping. And I can’t stand her…


oh so good….

This little piggy……

14 Apr

My first born hates having her hair brushed, or otherwise toyed with. She’s low maintenance. Loves pink, hates her hair. I’m cool with that.

But some part of me has been just itching to put pigtails and braids and ponytails in someone’s hair. Which is funny, since I’m just like Vivian.

Yesterday, fresh from the shower, I had my hair in a braid. Rosalyn looked up and said, very seriously of course “Mummy, you have your hair tied up?”

Why yes I told her I do.

“Mummy, want my hair tied up too.”

And so was born the CUTEST pigtails I have ever seen. Can you bear it? There is something so bloody adorable about a 3 year old in pigtails.

My mother is smiling somewhere, having finally got a girlchild who acts like one. 🙂


31 Mar



Pretties….The grey one is 8, the black one 5. They are both little ladies. I go pick them up tonight.

I’m not going with the SPCA because they’re, well, idiots it seems. Despite having filled out the CAT application (it says this clearly on the paper) they were calling my references saying I wanted to adopt a dog.

This lady replied to my ad on Kijiji-she’s reluctantly parting with her ladies because her granddaughter has allergies. This way, unlike last time, I know the previous owner and can ask about problems. She’s been very upfront and honest. We’ve had our doubts about the information that came with Velcro.

AND because someone from work is helping me with the drive, it won’t cost me anything, although I might go buy a nice plant to thank the lady for the gift of her kittehs..although, if the baby is allergic to cats, maybe a plant isn’t a wise choice.

Currently they are named Boo-Boo and Sweetie. That will be changing. Hell, one cat we had (Edgar) would respond to Hitler or Mussolini if you said it in that sing song voice, so who cares…

My new tattoo, let me show it to you

13 Mar

So, this picture is shitty since the camera on my phone is shitty, but I hope to have a good picture sometime tomorrow to replace this with. Good picture now. 🙂

I’m just so fucking happy with this that I MUST squee now.


Brandon at Kustom Thrills Tattoo in Nashville did this for me tonight. The price was incredibly reasonable for the absolute kickassness of this piece. I’m over the moon I’m so happy. It’s like he knew exactly what I was thinking of without me having to actually say it. I’m so overwhelmed by how much I like this.

So glad I didn’t go back to the place in the Armpit that ripped me off last time. This piece is quality-and did I mention that it’s also a coverup? It’s the last piece I wanted to do for my mother, and it being this fantastic makes it mean even more.

Having a tattoo artist that didn’t spend his time trying to make me feel inferior, and having a shop full of artists who were friendly and open made all of the difference. I’ve never been so pleased with anything. I’ve already warned him I’ll be coming back next time I’m here. Check out their gallery on their site-really awesome stuff.

So happy…….

The awesomeness you see…

2 Mar

My new header? Courtesy of Suburban Mum, who, frankly-RULES. She also made this in a few colors. Vivian was campaigning for the purple one, but I like the orange for now.

I LURVE it. So much. So thank you!

She also lost a close relative lately, so she could use a hug.

Have you played with StarDoll?

23 Feb

Dear gawd, this thing is stupidly, inexplicably addictive….

but then, I loved paper dolls when I was little. And there was no pretend near nekid Johnny Depp then.


15 Feb

Now normally, I can’t stand Iron Man.

Throw Robert Downey Jr into the equation and SQUEE!