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29 Jan

Since I don’t envy you Americans your overly involved way of electing a leader, I’m giving you this. I figure, so long as you know who the good guys are, it’s easy.

Thank you for choosing Hoover!

25 Dec

Now, this will likely sound ungrateful.

No, actually it WILL sound ungrateful.

Mogo had been hiding my present from his parents in the garage for a few weeks. I was excitedly hoping it was a sewing machine or a waffle maker.


Apparently, my bitching about our broken vacuum a few months back was remembered by my inlaws. Cause that’s what I got. Mogo got an 80GB iPod, I got a vacuum, frying pans and skin cream.


This is compounded by the fact that a friend received a SLR for Xmas from her husband. While I am under no illusions about the fact that we can’t afford that, and I’m likely buying one with my bonus in March, it still inspired a desire to stamp my feet and whine. Loudly. Which I had to restrain from doing since I’m 30 and all.

Still. It kinda sucked. Recieving gifts for the house, and not me makes me feel ripped off. At least the baking related item last year was a cool bundt pan I wanted. A vacuum just feels like the ultimate of domestication.

I do appreciate it. We do need it, and it DOES kick ass. (OMFG the crap that came out of the carpet in our bedroom) But it’s depressing all the same.

Granted, the rest of the family did good. My brother brought me 25 hanks of Louet yarn since his friend runs the company (and believe me-it looks amazing on the website-it’s DIVINE in person) which would have ran me a good $$ buying. I got a bunch of books I wanted, like this and this and these. A couple of CD’s I wanted. Some shortbread (yum!).

But when you’re expecting something else….jebbus it makes you feel like that 8 year old who didn’t get Fashion Plates….


The girls cleaned up, but awesomely enough, they LOVED everything we got them. The dollhouse was a HUGE hit. Rosalyn loved her top (we left the batteries out) and the pogo stick was fun for both. We’re happy that they’re happy.

Bits of paper are strewn all over the basement, I’ve eaten too much candy, and I think I’ll go finish off the wine.

Despite my own whining, it’s been an awesome day.

oh, and the test tube alien? Is actually pretty damn cool and she loved it. 🙂

What did YOU get?

In This Twilight

20 Dec

For some reason, I have some weird thing with apocalyptic, end of the world stuff. I don’t know why-ever since I was a little kid, I’ve felt like I should prepare for the end of the world, nuclear winter, all that good stuff. Maybe it’s the paranoia side of bipolar, or hell, maybe I acknowledge something others try not to-that we live in times that could lead to all sorts of bad things very easily. I try to take comfort in the fact that usually cooler heads prevail. It’s hard to, since eventually, I know they won’t.

I finally got around to picking up Year Zero by NIN. I had put it off since I hadn’t “loved” the last few albums, and I don’t have the same need for aggression. I still like it, I’m just not in any hurry to get it.

I should have bought this when it came out. I don’t know if anyone is aware of how they promoted this album, or what the album is like, but it’s damn cool. The album is basically this narrative, imagining 22 years in the future, assuming Bush’s reign of terror leads to it’s logical end point. (If you’ve read Octavia Butler’s Parable books, you know what I mean). So in the music, it’s basically the end of the world. (I’m not doing it any justice-go to the link) It’s this incredible viral marketing campaign as well, using the fan base to figure it out.

SQUEE for this paranoid little freak. Squee. It’s rare that an album reminds me what it’s like to be inspired, and to dream, and hope. Oddly enough, this one does.

This is an awesome fan created video of one of the best songs on the album, In This Twilight


13 Dec

I don’t dig a lot of Hip Hop. A personal quirk. But when I hear some that I like, I tend to REALLY like it.

I heard M.I.A awhile back, kept meaning to buy her albums, kept meaning to, and finally bought the newer one at Musicworld (since they’re closing down and shit is dirt cheap).


A moment to squee

5 Dec

This year, we’ve been trying to buy better toys-i.e. less crap, more brain food, toys that will actually last…

I really wanted to get Ros some wooden trucks. First I wanted to get this awesome tow truck from Craftsbury Kids, but they wanted 45.00!!!! for shipping! (Looks like it’s at least half that-there was an error on the site. Whew!) For a tiny truck!

N-O spells nu-uh.

So I decided to look to Etsy, and am I glad that I did.

I found Woodcraftedtoys, and got a toy tractor and train for Ros. I received them the other day and I am over the moon at the coolness! Who needs plastic when you can have such awesomeness? The smell of pine when I opened the box, the smooth wheels-I would have loved them when I was a kid.

Unfortunately, this seller isn’t accepting anymore orders for the year, but there are many more on Etsy. Not only was this seller Canadian, he was extremely affordable, and the goods rule.

I’m planning a bigger post on what the girls are getting, but I have zero time for that at the moment. I just needed to squee about these for a bit.


Remember, awhile back…

26 Nov

So remember awhile ago when my friend Tess came to visit? Well she FINALLY sent the pictures. (and yes dear, that is my subtle way of giving you shit. ) 🙂

Vivian gave her shit as well.


She recovered though, and posed for her audience.


Good thing Tess is just so darned cute.


Cuter than me in fact. But that’s ok. I still like her.


Well….well well well

22 Nov

It being Thanksgiving and all (and I AM giving thanks to the fact that ALL of my american coworkers have the day off and I can split out early), I should show you what someone decided to award me with.

 Nyjlm at So Love is Hard and Love is Tough gave me this:


And apparently, there are rules: I need to list three things that I feel make writing powerful, and then hand this puppy off to 5 other people.

Writing for me is a powerful thing I’ve always wanted to do-however, I don’t have the discipline to do it professionally. I had begun an Honours Arts degree splitting my major between english and history, but I dropped out, something I regret in part, but mostly understand as not being right for that point in my life. I grew up knowing I’d have a degree from a university, and someday, I will have it, even if I’m 80. I yearn to learn baby.

In the writers I admire, I look for many things. A keen eye for the smaller details, compassion towards the characters they write about, the ability to draw in a larger context to their smaller world. I need writers to speak to me, on that subtle almost molecular level that whispers “I know you” as you lay in bed, reading by the small light. I want writers to amuse me, make me cry, trigger some type of response.

Writers I like are sincere, they are disturbingly candid about their lives and they believe-they believe in the inherent good in all of us, and in themselves.

So….5 people whose writing I admire:

  1. Gabriel-not only has he given me some great advice regarding my recovery from bipolar, but he’s an incredible writer, wide open about his own recovery, and always willing to help others. He believes we can all be better, and he does what he can to help. He makes me cry and laugh, sometimes both at once.

  2. Kate: Not only is she local, but she’s incredible both at writing and photography. The glimmers of her life, good and bad, and her perspective on them through her words and through pictures, is incredible. She has a grace and wit I don’t think I could have in her circumstances.

  3. Marcela: In posts written mostly for her children, we get a picture of a life lived by someone equally frightened and brave, looking forward while living today. It’s refreshing, it’s tear jerking, and it’s funny.

  4. Mad Hatter: She gives me perspective, makes me giggle, makes me think. As any good Canadian should.

  5. Crib Chronicles: Always, always featherlight and heavy, all at once. I don’t know how she does it.

Would you look at that. 4 of 5 are Canadian. Man we rock.

Happy Turkey Day (or half week, depending on your job)

21 Nov


And no, it’s not Thanksgiving here. We had ours in October, and Canadians don’t get all weird and weepy and obsessive about it like Americans. Although I do envy the day after sales.

Have a great day, eat lots of food that’s bad for you, and prepare for the Christmas onslaught.

Wonderful, beautiful news!

9 Nov

Go see Bon….she has something to tell you!

Thanks Jen!

7 Nov

Jen, new mother to baby Francis, sent me a box o’stuff! And it is teh awesome! The girls and I had a ball playing with everything.

The kitty however, stays with me. She’s making friends with Skully the Pen.


I also had a thought. Anyone up for a little anon Kris Kringle action? I’d be willing to put a list together and sort out who gets who if y’all are interested…

What wonderful thing did I just go do?

4 Oct



“Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title.”

1 Oct

We stare at each other for a brief moment, and immediately hug, my usual disdain for touch lost behind my excitement at seeing a bit of my past in front of me. Like a plum, she looks good to me.

15 years falls away like nothing more than a second skin, discarded and left to float, fertilizer for another day.


My children love her. They run to her without inhibition, without fear-even my normally shy second born warms up almost immediately, and starts crowing. They all laugh and laugh and she tells me “Your house is so full of life!”

And she’s right. It’s never quiet, it’s rarely dull, and at times I envy her silences, the silences I once had. But my house is full to it’s brim with heart and love and noise and cacophony and wonder.

My girls wave goodbye from the deck as we drive off, toothy grins and blindly happy smiles wishing us well. My friend waves and waves back, her face crested in a grin itself.

I can’t help but grin back at all of them, immersed in the world I have created for myself.


We wander the mall, something we never did as teenagers. Were we ever that young? Just yesterday I was stoned in her basement, trying to understand the allure of All My Children and getting sucked into a story line about someone being possessed by the devil while tripping over her dog. We wander, looking, not looking really but talking, the hurried catch up talk you have when you know time is short and limited.

And I was comforted in the familiar, a person who knew me, knew who I was, where I was, who was steadfast and unwavering in her person, who had changed but not changed. My friend has grown, but remained at her core someone who calmed me to be around. Someone I felt no need to pretend with, no need to build a facade around. I felt my defenses shatter, useless and unnecessary, and for the first time in a long time, it was like I could breathe air fresh and free of the garbage I usually let fester in my lungs.

We pondered buying a gong, and wondered what happened to us as we admired the bakeware.


We rush to a pub, trying to not speak over each other. She offers a book from long ago, one I vaguely remember as mine. I don’t remember even reading it.

“Keep it.” I say.  “It’s a better story this way.”


We try to remember to eat while filling each other up on 15 years of life, divorce, sickness, alcohol, fear, fulfillment, desire. Who we are. What we want. Where we are. Are we where we imagined we’d be? Are we who we thought?

Why did we think we’d change?

We speak of the love we hold for our partners, the simple love that comes of time and knowledge, that which runs deep like fault lines in each of us. How we can never imagine our lives without them. How lucky we are to have found at least this.

She reminds me that my children are wonderful, and blessings, and that we are doing something right. My daughters have gained an Aunt.

We pick at our food. We look at each other. The pauses in conversation are deliberate and meaningful. We fill up on starch and conversation.

We leave with bellies patted and full.

Together we have a vernacular, a common theme that makes sense to us, and I have missed this, living city to city with no roots, making no home, no past with anyone but myself. I envy those who have this, the immediate recall in a group of a grade 3 teacher or a grumpy old man from Halloween.

She reminds me that this needs to be created, and home is where you put it.


When it’s time to leave, I find myself wanting to say all the words but can’t. Wanting to tell her how I really have missed her and hadn’t known, how I had missed our common thread of humour and seriousness, our easy friendship. How I appreciated her visit, and did, in all honesty, want to visit again and again. My jokes about her moving to the Armpit were not jokes. My body screams for a piece of my past to be near.


30 Sep

With the kids gone, and a long lost friend on her way, with the pine sol in the air and the momentary break to sip some Coke and let the floors dry, I can imagine back to when I had no kids, and everyday was much like this one.

Doesn’t seem like much to aspire to right this minute. Damn floor will be clean though.

I’m excited, no, to use the cheeseball dialogue of my youth, I’m fucking STOKED to see my friend Tess after almost 15 years. She calls and immediately we can chat, the intimacy of being teenagers together resurfaces, and the giggles start.

oh giggles, wherefore art thou giggles? I’ve missed you! I’ve missed having frivolous friends around me who are a joy to be near, who light up the street with their genuine desire to be good people, their simple happiness. How I’ve missed my old friend, she who I never meant to lose touch with in the first place.

Many people in my life I left behind on purpose. Ok, let’s say 99% to be honest. They were parts of my life that I didn’t need anymore, didn’t want, or in some cases, just couldn’t bear to look at. But not Tess. She was a steady reminder that some people aren’t your friend because you have dope, or because you have tits, or because you can stay out late. She was a friend because she was a friend.

And how much better can life get than that?

Is there anything better….

21 Sep

than the smell of dried oregano and fresh tomatoes simmering, both from your own garden?



My awetastic pen!

19 Sep

Isn’t he GREAT!



He boxes like those little plastic robots you can get, AND his eyes light up. I’m pretty sure he’s likely covered in lead too.

I love the dollar store.

Things I can get behind…

13 Sep

Colin Farrell & Ewan McGregor Admit to Illicit Affair.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Tasty.

Today was a nice, normal whitebread kinda day.

19 Aug







And yes. That’s my impossibly horrible basement in the backround.




A new Love

17 Aug

Fanta Red Tangerine, I love you, you tasty tasty sugar filled ruby colored liquid. (I’d give you a picture, but I just drank it all.)

ON a lighter note, take a look at the flavours worldwide. Especially in Costa Rica.

Vivian, 6:52am, August 11, you arrive

11 Aug















Happy Birthday honey bear. You’re driving me nuts lately, but only because you have too. I love you my big four year old girl. 🙂

Totally. Kicks. Ass

8 Aug

And this from a person who normally kinda hates math rock.

Run, don’t walk, to buy Mirrored by Battles. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good.